Two.

If anyone thought being sick would get them off Gibbs 'Bastard' radar, they rethought this immediately, when they saw him barking at his senior field agent, not a minute after he'd been violently ill by his desk.

"If you're going to be sick, do it somewhere else, DiNozzo, I don't need you infecting the two agents, who still just barely function around here!"

Ziva and McGee winced, not only at the insult thrown at them, but by the way Gibbs was treating Tony. Gibbs had yelled at each and every one of them before-hell, he'd yelled at strangers! But it was never this bad, and the insults never dug so deep either.

Ziva couldn't take being in the sidelines anymore. Let Gibbs bite her head off. "I will take him to Ducky-" she stepped in, only to be interrupted abruptly-because Abrupt was practically Gibbs middle-fourth name.

"Like hell, I don't want either of you wasting Ducks valuable time with this none sense. Go to the bathroom and wash up. Either come back to your desk and work on that damn cold case, or go home. I don't care, just get outta' my sight."

Ziva glared at her superior, but prior training in her country had taught her better than to strike at her commanding officer, so she bit her tongue and helped Tony off the floor from his knees, and accompanies him to the mens washroom. "Are you alright? Well, clearly you are not alright. That was a dumb question to ask. I am sorry, I don't know why-"

"M'fine Zeevah," he smiled down at her. "Just something bad I ate this morning that came back up, thanks." he said, as they reached the bathroom. "I think I can take it from here."

She nodded hesitantly. "Are you quite certain? And...back in the bullpen, I am sure Gibbs did not mean what he was saying." she tried to assure him, "It has been a very straining day, and for some reason he is being more..." she struggled with the right words.

"It's okay Ziva, really." Tony walked into the bathroom and rinsed out his mouth. He still wasn't feeling a hundred percent, and his head still hurt. Maybe he was getting sick. A cold, probably. He hoped not, though. He tried to ignore the ache in his chest. Gibbs words had hurt. He hadn't even let him see Ducky; apparently a waste of time.

Tony tried to excuse the older man. He knew what today was, after all. It was the anniversary of his wife and daughters' death. All the extra stress combined was most-likely why he was on a killing spree. Still, it didn't change the way he felt currently. Not physically or emotionally. He hated remembering his father, and it was rare that something in his life right now ever made the terrible feeling of being ten and around his father again, brought up.

No one instilled fear in him like that man had. No one had ever made him feel so useless. No one had ever left such deliberate scars on him.

Tony shuddered, closed his eyes, ran a hand across his chest. Underneath his button-up shirt, a thin white line marred his chest. Who knew broken wine bottles could do so much damage to a seven year-old. After all these years the scar was still taking its' sweet time to fade. He doubted it would ever be completely gone. That was the thing about scars. They often served as reminders; whether or not you really wanted to be reminded.

Tony thought of his mother. She had always been a beauty. Even with all those bruises that littered her body underneath those lovely three thousand dollar designer gowns her husband purchased for her. She was always drunk or tipsy, on her way to becoming quite blitzed. The one thing about her, really, that always kept with Tony, was the fact that she'd take all the beatings Senior dished out, every degrading comment, every scathing glare, and never, ever, did he see her once shed a single tear. So, neither did he.

Tony had no control, and neither did his mother. The one thing they did have some control over were their own emotions, and if not crying when Senior knocked them against bookshelves or called them morons or made them feel more worthless than the ground he stood on made them feel just a little less powerless, then they'd be damned if their eyes even watered.

Wiping his face with a napkin from the dispenser, Tony took a deep breath. He was fine. Dizzy and probably starting to get a migraine, but fine.

He had to get back to that cold case.

A.N. Sorry for the super shortness of this :/ I wanted to write more but real life is calling my name! So when I get back home I'll write more, plus update a few other fics I have pending! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR READING MY STORIES AND ESPECIALLY FOR THE WICKED AWESOME REVIEWS. :D *hands out the membership cards for the hug-a-tony foundation*