DISCLAIMER: I don't own NCIS.
Warning, this chapter gets pretty dark. Tony talks about his mother and it gets kind of nasty, don't worry nothing graphic, but I felt I needed to warn you guys. Hopefully you'll bear with me the next few chapters because it's all Tony and the psychiatrist. After that the sun comes back out! I promise!
***
It took only two hours for them to notice a change in Tony DiNozzo after he was released from the hospital. Gibbs brought him to his house because the apartment was still messed up from the previous week. That was one reason, the other was because he wanted Tony with him at all times as a precaution.
It was McGee who noticed the change in the first two hours. He asked Tony if he wanted to watch television, his voice betraying his concern. Tony hadn't said a thing about television or movies. The answer surprised them. No. Without an explanation all the others could do was change the subject.
The first time someone entered Gibbs' house without knocking they noticed another change. Tony didn't have his Sig on him but the lamp on the table was suddenly raised over his head ready to throw. Abby still couldn't get over the fact that Tony was about to throw it at her, no matter how well Gibbs or Ducky explained it to her.
Ava had taken some time to come and talk with Tony for an afternoon, but time had passed and they knew it. So she left after dinner to make her way back to New York.
"Ready for your first session Tony," Gibbs jingled his keys to get Tony moving.
Tony sighed and dragged himself off the couch and followed Gibbs. It was painfully obvious to Gibbs that Tony didn't like psychiatrists, not that he did either, but it was mandatory. Mandatory and a saving grace because he sure as hell didn't know what to do. At least if Tony came back from the session pissed off they could slam the world of psychology together as the boat was worked on.
Gibbs looked at Tony as he pulled up to the house that the psychiatrist worked out of. If the clenched hands and shaking right elbow had any say, they'd be screaming 'I don't want to be here.'
"You'll be here when I'm done?"
"Yep," Gibbs said simply.
Nodding Tony opened the door and stepped out. Gibbs half expected him to say something about a quick get-away, but the changes in Tony made him wary to expect anything.
The door slammed shut and Tony stalked up to the house. Hearing his phone ring, Gibbs answered.
"Hello."
"Gibbs! How's Tony? Is it okay? Did he complain much about going to the psych-"
"Abby."
"Yes Gibbs?"
"He's doing," Gibbs didn't want to lie, but Abby would over-react if he said what he really thought, "as well as could be expected."
Abby was silent for a moment, "I guess that means he could be worse? Don't lie Gibbs!"
"He could be worse, he could be better."
Abby stomped on the other side of line. He heard her huff angrily, but he didn't know what to say to her.
"He'll be fine Gibbs," Abby pleaded. "He always bounces back! He can't not bounce back! He's Tony, it's his reflex!"
Gibbs stayed outside the house the entire time, so when Tony finally came out he had the car running and ready to go. Tony had his head cocked slightly to the side and his hands were in his pockets. It couldn't be too bad, Gibbs decided, otherwise Tony would be rushing to the car and they would already be half-way home.
As he pulled the seatbelt across his torso, Tony mumbled. Gibbs let his face tell Tony to speak up.
"Can we get some pizza, boss?"
Gibbs suppressed a grin as much as he could, "Sure Tony. Call it in, we'll pick it up and take it home."
Tony nodded and pulled out his cell phone dialing a well-known number. After placing the order he snapped it shut and didn't speak again until they made it through Gibbs' front door. So Tony made it far enough to want pizza again, but not enough to talk non-stop about the merits of the Americanized Italian meal.
That's the way it continued for awhile, a month going by without hardly any change in Tony. The team all knew why. It was because he had yet to discuss things with the psychiatrist. However they couldn't do anything about it, it would only aggravate the issue. Plus, all of them had their own opinions about that particular field.
***
"My mother," Tony began. "Let's not get into that."
"Humor me."
Tony chuckled tightly, "That won't work."
A shrug, "Please?"
"Hmm, not fair. Who told you," Tony asked. "That you should ask about my mother."
"Perhaps I'm just good at what I do, Tony."
Tony lifted a shoulder and let it fall as he shifted in the chair, drawing his leg up onto the other. Staring at the man near him, Tony tilted his head to the side as if contemplating.
"A lot of psychology is reading people, their emotions, lack thereof, and listening to changes in the voice."
Tony sighed, "Just like interrogation. You know that's what you guys do, interrogate us until we break down."
Silence permeated the room as the psychiatrist tapped his forefinger on his cheek. He sat at an angle from Tony in an armchair. Waiting for the younger man to begin talking, to open up to him.
"When I was five my mother went through this phase, Louis the fifteenth. I had the canopy bed, the candles, everything. I even learned to play the piano," Tony kept his eyes on the bookcase in front of him.
"The funny thing is that I was more frightened of the vampires in my canopy then of my father at the time…"
Tony drifted off a bit and cleared his throat, uncomfortable with his admission. The older man waited a second before saying,
"You know we aren't here to talk about your father."
"At least today," Tony looked over at the doctor briefly. "Right?"
Shrugging, he answered, "Definitely not today."
Again the two sat in silence until Tony took a deep breath and continued, "She drank my sea monkeys once. Not kidding! She thought it was her mint julep.
"You know the one time I told that story everyone thought it was funny," Tony grew a little perturbed. "No one thought to wonder why the hell she was confused in the first place! It was just a story I told!"
"Did she do that often? Confuse things with her alcohol?"
Tony wanly smiled, "Meaning was she an alcoholic? Yes."
"But that's not what scares you about her," the doctor prompted.
Tony reacted almost immediately. He shot the doctor a grave look and shifted in his seat again, bringing his hands closer to his body as if to keep himself from jumping up. Drawing in a deep breath, Tony shook his head,
"Can we call it a day?"
"No. You're here for another," he checked his watch, "forty minutes Tony."
Tony nodded and tightened his lips, "Alright. She, she dressed me like a sailor until I was ten years old."
"Dressed you or made you dress yourself," the older man asked kindly, his eyes already knowing.
Tony turned his head from looking straightforward to looking at the wall to his left, effectively shutting his face away from the doctor.
"Dressed me."
"And whe-"
"She would dress me and play with me like I was her little doll, make me play the piano for her every night, okay? And when she died I was glad! Glad! No more sailor suits, no more sea monkeys, no more vampires!"
Tony had jumped up and was pacing the room agitatedly. Every few steps his feet would falter before renewing with a forceful vigor. Running his hand through his hair, Tony shook. His voice had altered, jumping an octave higher and when he exclaimed his feeling over her death his voice had squeaked.
"Jesus, she was my mother! Wasn't she supposed to protect me?"
"Yes Tony," the doctor said gently. "Mother's are supposed to put their children's safety before their own."
"Every time it made me feel… dirty and scared," Tony continued. "Mother's shouldn't frighten their sons like that."
"You right Tony, what happened was wrong."
Tony abruptly stopped and whirled around to see the psychiatrist. Almost suspiciously he looked at the older man.
"You're the first. To believe me, tell me I was right," Tony clarified.
The statement seemed to anger the man slightly because he said more forcefully, "Why would a child lie about being sexually molested? They wouldn't. They don't know. I'm sorry Tony that people are out there that do that to children."
"My father probably paid them off, or scared them, into telling me it was my fault. That I was asking for it," Tony sat down heavily, breathing hard.
The doctor composed himself, "Undoubtedly that didn't help matters."
Tony chuckled almost manically, "No! It did not."
Leaning back into the cushions, the doctor asked quietly, "Does she still scare you Tony?"
"Yes."
The word seemed to bounce off the walls and reverberate in Tony's ears so he continued, "You know, one of my old partners, Kate, she asked that very question. Is it so obvious that she still scares me twenty odd years after?"
Shaking his head the psychiatrist answered, "No, only those trained in psychology or profiling really see it. Or the very perceptive."
"I think she just asked out of spite."
"Maybe."
Tony glanced at the older man, wondering what time it was having had to leave his cell phone and watch in a drawer in the receptionist area. A small shake of the head let Tony know they still had time on the clock.
"We're making progress Tony," the doctor said. "The last few times you were here all we talked about was the problems in the OSU football team last year."
Tony tried to grin, "It's great to know that someone watches football in this town."
The doctor shrugged. Tony shifted again and they sat in silence for awhile. It wasn't too uncomfortable, Tony decided as he sighed. The uncomfortable was talking, which he was great at, but talking about things that happened to him before college was brutal.
"It's not just remembering that bothers me. It's the nightmares," Tony said quietly. "Because I can't stop them."
"You can't control them," the older man supplied.
"Yeah," Tony's face twitched. Leaning forward, he rested his arms on his legs. "Control."
"And that's okay Tony. Needing control. Nothing you have to defend yourself over. But what do you do after the nightmares? Do they come one at a time or in groups?"
Tony clenched his jaw, "Usually they start the day of her death and don't stop for a week or two."
"Hmm."
"Ah, oh, huh," Tony was beginning to get malicious.
The doctor smiled slightly, "Do you drink during those two weeks Tony? To help you?"
"Sure, sometimes. But boss doesn't like it when I come into work hung-over," Tony said flatly. "You know, don't cross Gibbs otherwise…"
He trailed off briefly, "But we're not here to talk about Gibbs."
"Not yet," the doctor said.
Tony nodded slowly, resignedly. The doctor looked at his watch surreptitiously before standing.
"Alright Tony, we'll talk some more next time."
Tony took his time to stand and held out his hand, saying as the older man grasped it, "See you doc," he walked to the door and said as he opened it, "Tune in next week for more revelations about Tony's relationships!"
The older man just looked at the troubled agent as he shut the door behind him. With a sigh that validate his age, the doctor sat down heavily at his desk and opened the file with Anthony DiNozzo written on it. Jotting down 'sexually abused by alcoholic mother from time of age five years to age ten years,' he rubbed at his forehead tiredly.
A/N: I spent a lot of time writing ahead so the chapters should be pretty regular from now on!