Gibbs came down the steps from Vance's office.
Well, he thought, that went better than I expected.
Vance had nearly had a stroke when he was told both Gibbs and Tony would be out for three weeks.
He saw that telltale vein in Vance's head stand out, as he came to the conclusion Gibbs would not back down. Vance had already approved Tony's leave, but was surprised about the additional request from the team leader.
The Director softened just a bit though, when Gibbs pointed out that they all rarely took any time off at all, and worked weekends whenever necessary. It would just mean a few weeks of a different rotation schedule...
They'd get over it.
McGee and the two covering agents sitting at Ziva and Tony's desks looked up as he got to his desk to gather up his things.
"Uh, Boss? We got a case?" McGee was the only one who dared speak to him, based on the look of intensity on his face.
"No," Gibbs said, closing his drawer and putting his badge in his pocket.
"Uh…-" McGee was going to ask another question, but Gibbs stopped him.
"McGee, you and both Agents Cullen and Gemata are temporarily being reassigned to the other teams."
McGee's eyes widened.
Gibbs leveled his glance at the younger man.
"It's temporary, McGee," he said in a more gentle tone. "Tony has taken three weeks off, to wrap up some loose ends with his father's estate."
"Three weeks?"
"Yes."
McGee looked around for a moment, and looked back at Gibbs again, even more worried.
"Do you think…that's a good idea? I-I mean…he…" McGee was fumbling for the words, but Gibbs knew what he was trying to say.
"Yeah, McGee. I know. I'm taking some time off myself."
"Oh," McGee said, understanding, and relieved that Gibbs was going to make sure Tony was okay. He was almost a little envious Tony would get that kind of attention from Gibbs. But also he knew how badly Seniors death, and that letter, had affected his friend. Still…three weeks…
He sighed.
"So- you're going to hang out with Tony…for a whole three weeks? I mean…won't you kill each other just after two days?" he asked, almost wondering it out loud. "Uh…I mean-"
"Not exactly, McGee. Tony doesn't know I'll be around right away." Gibbs turned to leave. Then he added, "I'll be in touch McGee. Make sure you're still reachable."
The other two agents looked at McGee, clearly shocked at the turn of events.
He shrugged a little, smiling at them, having nothing to say.
The ride to New York was relaxing. Except for the three missed calls from Abby he let go to voicemail.
He didn't want to talk to anyone.
He just wanted to drive, to focus on the road, and let his mind be empty.
He was exhausted from all the thinking, and the nightmares, which had terrorized him twice the night before.
Tony sighed.
He knew he should probably not have canceled all his appointments with Rachel Cranston for the month, but he didn't see the point. He wasn't sure if he was going back. He wasn't sure if he wanted to talk about it with her. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with the whole three weeks.
But he needed…something.
For now, going home was the one thing he felt he had to do.
It was a long day of driving.
By the time he pulled up to the gate on Dunemere Lane, in South Hampton, it was already 18:30.
The property his father's substantial house sat on was a twelve acres lot, and surrounded on all sides by a simple wrought iron fence. The front gate, flanked by two bricked pedestals, lions atop them, was kept closed for the most part.
On one of the pedestals, was attached an ornate iron mailbox, with the number 43 on it.
He got out of the car and reached into the mailbox to extract the keys to the house. Mr. Gardiner had them placed there for Tony earlier in the day, after he called to let the lawyer know he was coming. He made no mention of the money yet…since he was still unsure of his next move.
He stood, looking at the gate for a moment, and the long driveway that stretched to the imposing house at the end of it.
A flutter of anxiety passed through him.
He let out a shaky breath.
Tony opened the gate, and got back into the car.
He parked in front, on the circular drive before the front doors of the house.
As he turned off the ignition and got out, he looked up at the grey and white façade, the multiple levels and several chimneys that reached up into the evening sky.
The property itself was still much the same.
Pine trees mostly, with some other deciduous species littered in between.
He could almost see himself running through them, with Tommy laughing at his heels as they raced for one particular tree.
He closed his eyes, and shuddered.
When he forced them open again, he got himself moving, taking his bag from the car and carrying it to the front doors.
The jangling of the keys seemed loud against the quiet of the place.
As he entered and turned on the lights, the familiar smell hit him.
Pine, old paper, and dust.
All of the stately antique furnishings were in exactly the same spots he remembered. Senior had traveled so much, he hardly had time to redecorate or move things.
Tony slowly walked past the large family room, taking in the fireplace and sofas that were still the same.
He passed the large twisting stairway, with its polished, luxurious balustrade.
After the stairway, further down the hall, was his father's study.
Where the piano had been.
His breath now shallow, heart pounding more heavily in his chest, he opened the door, and turned on the light.
It was all the same. All dark wood. Except, there was a large club chair, where the piano had been…
But next to it was the old floor lamp. It had once lit the sheet music he read from, while Robert Anselmo stood, looking over his shoulder…so close…
He walked into the room, on trembling legs, and almost stumbled.
He felt dizzy, and sat down in the club chair, the only item in the room that wasn't a witness to his shame and torment.
Trying to force himself to calm, he looked around the room some more, at the walls lined with books, the grand mahogany desk, and the rolling cart on which rested crystal decanters, glasses, and bottles of assorted alcohol.
His eyes started to blur, as he looked down at the floor.
There was a burl in one of the old floorboards, next to the base of the lamp.
He laughed, but then choked, remembering how he tried to just stare at it sometimes, while Anselmo punished him with the ruler, or leaned him over the closed piano, to put his hands under his clothes…
He groaned and covered his face.
Isn't this why he came home? To really look at it all? And to remember?
Years. Anselmo abused him for years. And Senior had let it happen.
It shouldn't have been that way.
"You…bastard," he whispered in agony. "You didn't have to do it. You could have let me be…"his body clenched, with the pain twisting him up, the anger and the helplessness all coming back to him in a rush.
Suddenly he couldn't breathe, and jumped out of the chair, grasping the doorframe for just a moment as he blindly ran from the room.
He landed against the wall in the hallway, and slid down, feeling lost in the expanse of the hellish place.
"God," he blurted out, gasping and starting to sob, "what am I gonna' do?"
Gibbs arrived at Tony's apartment in the late afternoon.
His gut was talking again…screaming at him that something was terribly wrong, and that Tony was in trouble.
Quickly seeing his car was gone, he called McGee.
"Yeah Boss?"
"I need you to track Tony for me."
"Uh…okay. I'm going to my desk right now…"
He heard McGee punching the keys.
"Boss, Abby's been trying to call Tony…"
"Uh-huh."
"Well, I uh…may have mentioned to her you both took three weeks off…"
Gibbs smiled, knowing Abby would try to hunt him down next after not reaching Tony. He was in for it with her...he'd probably need to buy Abby her very own Caf-Pow machine to keep in the lab to make up for taking off like this.
"Yeah, McGee, and?"
"I …just... wanted to warn you-"
"McGee, sometime today."
"Ah, okay, Boss. He's…in New York. On the Southern State Parkway."
"And what's Senior's address out there ?"
"One second…"
Gibbs heard more keys clicking.
"Forty-three Dunemere, South Hampton."
"Thanks McGee."
"Boss-"
He hung up before McGee could finish, now intent on getting to New York as quickly as he could.