He groaned.
The vertigo that had him stumbling in the dark to the bathroom during the night was still teasing at his brain.
Someone had helped him…Gibbs.
And he had basically, puked his guts up. Violently. And totally.
He stayed on the cool tile of the bathroom floor, eyes closed, as he felt the washcloth pass over his face and neck.
"Boss," he had moaned, in misery, stomach twisting in an excruciating knot and skin feeling way too hot.
"I need to get some water in you, DiNozzo," the tone was gentle but somewhat sour. "Guess it's been a while, since you tried to kill yourself with alcohol poisoning."
"Y-you…shouldn't…talk…you prob…probably own stock in a bourbon…manufacturer…" he moaned pitifully again and tried to roll on his side.
"Come on," he heard Gibbs say quietly, as the calloused warm hands helped him sit up a little against the sink of the bathroom.
He still couldn't open his eyes.
"Sip a little…"
Tony felt the paper cup at his lips, and did his best.
It took an hour, and several attempts.
He remembered the hand on his back, soothing circles into it as he tried and failed, throwing up the water before eventually keeping some down.
Then he didn't remember anything else.
Gibbs must have dragged him back to the bed.
He cracked an eye open, thankful that the curtains were drawn, because he could tell by the sliver of light that it was day.
"Boss?" he rasped out. But there was only silence.
He was in a hotel room.
He was on a full sized bed, and across from it was another. It had been slept in.
Where was Gibbs?
His head pounded.
"Ohhhhhhh…." He let out almost mournfully, needing to close his eyes against the pain.
When he opened them once more, he saw the aspirin and cup of water on the table.
He moved slowly to take them.
Once he did he was exhausted, closing his eyes once more.
Remembering vague snippets of Gibbs finding him on the car, he murmured, "How screwed am I…"and drifted back to sleep.
The next thing he knew, was rolling over, and feeling like his mouth was made of asphalt.
He blinked his eyes open, smelling something good. Pizza.
Suddenly, his stomach chimed in, letting him know that food, was not currently an option.
He felt the bed dip down next to him.
"Hey," he heard the angry voice snap at him, "you know what this is?"
He opened his eyes, looking at what Gibbs had in front of his face.
"Um…" he said looking at the hand, holding a piece of light grey fabric in it. It was little and shredded, and from the smaller fibers, looked like jersey.
"This," Gibbs growled, "is what you left on the fence when you were not so stealthily committing arson last night."
Tony swallowed nervously, remembering something about his tee shirt getting caught on the wrought iron fence.
"This, along with what you had in your damned car, could have been the end of your career, not to mention it's a damned felony!"
"M-my car?" Tony asked, confused.
Gibbs sighed, putting down the fabric fibers.
He got up off the edge of the bed and took off his coat, talking as he moved around the room.
"I got a cab, to take me over, after the fire was out and the excitement died down. And by the way, your cell rang a few times- I'm pretty sure it's your father's lawyer, trying to reach you about the house. I brought the car back, but stopped first along Main Street and threw out all the garbage in a dumpster behind a bakery…"
"Boss, I-"
"What?" Gibbs yelled suddenly, "You're actually gonna' say anything right now? Now? After I find you almost dead drunk on top of your car? After you burned the fucking house down?"
Tony saw Gibbs had become white, and was so furious his hands were shaking.
"Of all the irresponsible-"
"Stupid," Tony said, quietly.
"Stupid-"
"Selfish," he added, still not looking at Gibbs.
Tony licked his lips, and looked down, letting out a shaky sigh.
He waited for more, but it didn't come.
He warily looked up at Gibbs, who had two hands to his face, trying to breathe and calm down.
He lowered the hands, looking Tony right in the eye, "You could have been killed." The words sounded rough and strangled.
Tony saw the worry. And felt bad about it.
But, Gibbs just didn't know. He shouldn't be so concerned about him…
Tony looked down again, and then to the side. He remained silent, feeling a kind of cold settle into his body, head pounding.
Gibbs took another deep breath to calm himself.
He looked at the nightstand.
"You took the aspirin. Good." He was still angry, but not as hot. He went to the small circular table in front of the window, where a pizza box rested.
"Wanna' try to eat?"
Tony shook his head no, still not speaking. He sat up for a moment and rubbed his eyes and face.
Gibbs sat in the chair, watching the younger man.
He knew the anger had affected him, but he wasn't seeing Tony throw any back, and that alone was upsetting.
"Tony," he said in a much more gentled tone, "You have to talk to me."
Tony swung his legs over the side of the bed, back now to Gibbs.
"No…I don't," he said softly, as he got up and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
He leaned against it for a while, closing his eyes.
Gibbs didn't deserve this. He shouldn't have come. Even though, Tony knew, Gibbs had saved his ass. Big time.
He shouldn't have.
A he could have gotten into a lot of trouble helping him.
And he didn't deserve it.
Why couldn't Gibbs see it?
Gibbs stared at the door and sighed.
It was silent for a while, and then he heard the shower running.
He took some pizza for himself, and ate while he continued thinking about everything he had seen…and heard last night.
It was almost 16:45.
Tony was in no shape to go anywhere yet. And Gibbs had just under three weeks time as well. He could wait Tony out, if that's what it took…
Eventually, Tony came out of the bathroom, towel around his waist. He went to his bag, the one Gibbs had brought in from his car, and fished out some sweatpants and a tee shirt.
After he got on the clean clothes, he sighed, walking over to the little round table, and taking a seat across from Gibbs.
He was hungry, but not sure yet he should eat.
As if reading his mind, Gibbs reached into the pocket of the coat draped over the back of his chair, producing a small bottle of liquid antacid.
He handed it to Tony, with no expression on his face.
Tony took it, smiling a little, still not sure how Gibbs did that.
"Thanks," he said, and took a large swig of it.
They sat in silence for a bit.
As usual, Gibbs had no problem, sitting, silently, eyes on Tony.
Suddenly, he felt like he was in interrogation, not sitting in a hotel room, with pizza.
He took a deep breath through his nose and looked around, eyes drifting back to Gibbs'.
"Okay, so…I freaked out a little."
Gibbs brows almost shot off his head.
"A little, Tony?"
He rolled his head a bit, looking around, to release tension, and put his hands in his lap, willing them to be still.
"Boss…"his eyes drifted back to Gibbs' face. "I ah…I…"
"You need to tell me, exactly what this is, Tony," Gibbs said in the most quiet, and sincere tone. "This isn't you."
"No…I guess it's not." Tony looked around the room again. "You're right about that."
"So…tell me, or – Hell, tell someone," Gibbs was almost pleading with him, "but you can't keep going this way."
Tony's mouth twisted a little.
"I…appreciate what you did for me here Boss…"
Gibbs scowled, "But?"
"But…" Tony looked down at the table, brow furrowing. "I…" his eyes suddenly stung, and his vision misted. "I need…time…I can't…"
Another sigh from Gibbs.
Disappointment.
Tony knew Gibbs was worried and now…probably upset he wouldn't confide in him…but it wasn't the first time he'd been a disappointment was it?
"Okay," Gibbs said plainly.
He looked up.
"Okay?"
"For now."
Tony stared at Gibbs.
He realized at that moment, Gibbs was not going to let it go. He was going to wait, with the patience of a master hunter, for the right moment, and then strike.
He was going to stick with Tony, until he cracked, or he got the information some other way.
"You ready to try some food now?" Gibbs asked, grabbing a newspaper from the dresser near his chair.
"Definitely," Tony said, taking a slice and shoving it in his mouth.
If he was eating, he couldn't talk.
When Gibbs awoke the next morning, at 05:45 as he usually did, he knew right away something was wrong.
He sat up quickly.
He growled in frustration, seeing the empty bed, and Tony's bag gone.
"Dammit."