Thank you so much for all your glowing reviews! My fingers have been inspired to type faster. (Essay? What essay? Oh, right, the one due Monday… err, I'll do my best.)

Sorry this is late, guys; my Internet's been down.

WARNING: There is some disturbing imagery in this chapter.

/\/\/\

Chapter 8: Bete Noir

/\/\/\

Ducky had tucked Gibbs up on the couch with a blanket and headed out to take care of a few errands. Just as he arrived back juggling grocery bags, his cell phone rang; and Scotland the Brave sounded through the house; the doctor winced, answering hastily to try and avoid waking his patient.

"Doctor Mallard," he said quietly.

"Ducky, have you seen the news?" The familiar throaty voice asked urgently.

"I'm afraid not, Abby, my dear; why do you ask?"

"Because ZNN's reporting a rumour that Dominic DiNozzo got beaten up by an FBI agent yesterday and it can't be a coincidence and I can't get hold of Gibbs and has anyone even called about Tony yet? And…"

"Abby, Abby, please; take a deep breath for me. Now; I believe that Mr DiNozzo's attacker was none other than our Jethro himself. He has some minor injuries consistent with a fight."

"Gibbs is hurt!!! Why didn't you call me? Is he in hospital? Do I need to come see him?"

"I found Gibbs unconscious in his basement this morning."

"Unconscious?!"

"For goodness' sake, Abby, calm down. Jethro is fine; or he will be, once the hangover wears off. He's sleeping on the couch."

"But why would he fly all the way to New York just to hit Tony's dad?"

"I suspect that was not his intention when he left; they must have had a disagreement when he tried to break the news. In his current emotional state, it wouldn't take much to set him off. Now, don't worry. I am already in his kitchen and I will be looking after him. There is no need for you to come over. Where are you?"

"Kate's place; McGee and I stayed over."

"Good; I'm glad the three of you are together. Pass on to the others that Jethro is fine for me."

"Ducky? Is… he OK?"

"None of us are, my dear," Ducky replied sadly, before he disconnected.

/\/\/\

Gibbs was driving down a darkened street; there was another car in front, which seemed vaguely familiar. And then it hit him. It was Tony's car. He honked his horn, pulling out to cut Tony off. But apparently DiNozzo didn't recognise him because he accelerated, swerving to avoid Gibbs' overtaking manoeuvre. And then his tyre blew.

The Corvette span wildly out of control even as Gibbs slammed on his own brakes, the squeal of his tyres almost drowning the crunch as metal met tree.

Gibbs was out of the car before it had stopped moving, running for the driver's door. I have to save Tony…

The achingly familiar eyes met his through the window as Gibbs yanked desperately at the badly dented door; but it wouldn't move. Blood was flowing freely down the side of Tony's face as he banged frantically on the glass, naked fear on his features. The smell of gasoline was everywhere.

"Gibbs! Help me! Get me out! Please, Boss…"

"The door's stuck. I'm going to break the window." Tony turned his face away as Gibbs pounded his fist into the glass, ignoring the pain as his knuckles split and blood smeared across the surface. On the fifth blow it gave, showering the younger man with glass. He was reaching inside to help Tony out when the gas tank blew.

Gibbs was flung away from the car, landing on his back on the grass verge. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the images he saw before him.

Tony was a human torch; he screamed in agony, arms flailing wildly as the flames licked up his body, devouring the closest thing Gibbs had ever had to a son. The smell of burning flesh engulfed Gibbs even as the shrieks of pain etched themselves onto his memory; and yet he couldn't move. He could only watch, as Tony's beloved face vanished behind the flames.

He hated himself for wishing the terrible sounds to stop; for wishing Tony dead even as the screams died away and the movements quieted. And then he was alone.

/\/\/\

"Tony!" Gibbs fell off the couch in his living room, drenched in sweat, Tony's name on his lips and the smell of human briquette in his nose. He managed to grab the trashcan before he threw up, the force of the retching almost causing him to overbalance.

Suddenly Ducky was running in, grabbing at his friend to steady him; supporting him as he emptied his stomach of what felt like his toenails.

Finally, Gibbs recovered enough to speak.

"'S OK, Duck. I'm done."

"I should say, my boy. A nightmare?"

"I was there; I saw it and I did nothing… The screams, and the smell…"

"It was just a dream, my friend. Just a bete noir."

"Wish it were, Ducky."

"Come on, Jethro," the doctor said sympathetically, taking his arm. "Let's get you cleaned up. And then I am going to make you the most effective hangover cure known to man. It was invented by my great uncle Andrew after a particularly heavy night of drinking one Hogmanay…"

/\/\/\

Hope you didn't think the dream sequence was too much.