Chapter 17:

"Don't say anything son," Senior said as they were read their rights and led through the airport.

"Thanks Dad but I think I know the drill."

"How about the pair of you keep your traps shut!" Gibbs said.

They were taken through security doors to the private access area where the Airport had their interrogation rooms and holding cells located.

"They can stay in here until we can get the flight cleared to take them back to DC." Fornell told Gibbs. "You watch them while I go and get cleared for takeoff. Hopefully we can get out of here within the hour."

Gibbs took both men into one of the rooms and sat them down. He unlocked their cuffs from behind their backs and resecured them in front so they would be more comfortable. He removed their hats and glasses and threw them on the table but just out of reach, ensuring the glasses Tony had worn faced both men. It was hoped Tony could get his father to admit at least some of what he had done making prosecuting him all the easier. He then went and stood in the corner of the room, like a silent sentinel.

They sat in silence for close to a half an hour when suddenly the room's lights went out. Only the emergency exit sign gave everyone in the room an eerie green glow.

"What the hell," Gibbs said. He opened the door to the now dimly lit hallway and stuck his head out, "Fornell, turn the damn lights back on."

There was no answer, "Fornell!" he shouted. "Damn it." He turned to the men, "stay here and not a word. I'll be back in a minute."

Gibbs left the room with one last glance over his shoulder. The black out had been pre planned, giving Gibbs a reason to leave the room and allow Tony to be alone and unsupervised with his father.

Senior looked up in the corner and noted that the red light on the camera had also gone off. He assumed they could now talk without being overheard. "Son, what did you tell him when he came around," Senior asked.

"I told you what I said," Tony said playing the part of a petulant detainee. "What you think this is my fault?"

"You didn't tell him about… what you did?"

"No, but they will find out, it's Gibbs. Hell, he probably already knows. If I confess maybe they will let me off with a lighter sentence and I will say you were just trying to protect me. Maybe you will get off completely."

"Son, now lets not do anything hasty - lets discuss this … quickly," Senior said. "Now what I want you to say ..."

"Can you tell me one thing, before he comes back?" Tony interrupted, looking at his father, "what is my name?"

"Now son, that is the past, we have to worry about what is happening now. So when they come back…"

"Ok then, who was my mother?" Tony said starting to sound a little more angry.

"Son, I've told you this before, your mother died in a car accident when you were little. There is nothing else to tell. Why do you want to know now after all this time. Don't you think we have more pressing matters!" Senior was getting frustrated at his son now.

"So you aren't going to tell me anything else about her or me, even though I will probably go to jail and probably never see you again … you are happy for me to never know?"

"Son, I have done everything in my power to protect you, not knowing about your background is part of that. What you don't know you can't tell. Don't you trust me?" Senior was getting antsy now. "You killed a man, everything I have done has been to protect you from that. Confessing now will undo all my work."

"You are of course referring to Donald Hampson," Senior's eyes widened in surprise at that name.

"You know his name? But I thought you never knew who it was."

"I'm a Federal Agent Dad, don't you think I would have been curious all these years?" and he had been curious but his fear of being caught stopped him from ever looking, but Senior didn't know that. Tony leant in closer to Senior, "And you know what?"

His father pulled back as far as he could from someone who had never intimidated him before – until now. "What?" he asked, jaws clenching, eyes darting back and forth as he tried to decide which of Tony's eyes to look at.

Tony whispered, "I didn't kill him."

Tony could see the micro expressions flitter across his father's face until he settled on a look of mock hope, "Son that is fantastic, they have nothing on you now, you don't have to confess."

"No I don't – but you do. You see, it wasn't the hit in the head that I did that killed him, it was the multiple blows from the rock you used to kill him; you know the one you used to tie him down with."

The panic returned to Senior's face, "Son I don't know what …"

Tony tried again, he wanted his father to admit what he had done. "And you know what else? He was the brother of Wanda Thomason, one of my stepmothers. She was found strangled to death in her bed, coincidentally the same night poor Donald went missing." Tony glared at his father, "What are the odds?"

Senior leapt to his feet, "I don't know what you are trying to imply but I won't ..."

Tony leapt up as well, slipping out of the cuffs Gibbs had very loosely put on him, and pushed his father back into the seat. "SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!"

Tony leant in to his father, as close to his face as he could, the anger was rolling off him in waves, "And you know who else you killed?"

"I never killed …"

"There was Sandra Sullivan, Dorothy Harmon and Susan Mendleson … and I am sure there will be more."

"I never heard of those women." Senior said stubbornly. Tony's temper was rising beyond anything he had ever experienced. He would get his man to admit what he did or else.

"Seriously?" Tony spat incredulously while leaning in as close to his father as he could. His fury was building higher with every word he was saying. "You know I was there right! I may not remember them all but I remember Susan and Wanda. You know what else, I gave them my DNA and now we have the physical proof we need. You are done! And you know what other name came up when we looked into you?"

Senior still refused to admit anything, refused to even look at his son – the man who had double-crossed him to save his own ass.

"Does the name Julie Brooks sound familiar?"

Senior turned suddenly and stared at his son's eyes and said weakly, "I don't know who…"

"Ok then, how about Michael Brooks?" Again Senior refused to admit to anything. Tony had never been so angry in his life, his hands clenched so tightly his nails were biting into the skin of his palm. His neck and shoulders so tight anyone touching him would think he was made of stone. He was barely able to restrain himself from punching his father in the face.

"Fuck you... Michael!" then Senior spat in Tony's face.

That broke the damn. All the hatred he had been attempting to hold back flooded through his body. Tony grabbed his father by the shirtfront and threw him to the ground. He fell on top of him and started to punch. Blow after blow rained down on his father's face, he felt bones break under his fist. Blood splattered on the walls and floor, cast off from the ferocity of his strikes everytime he lifted his arm back to strike again. He knew he should stop, knew he would kill his father if he kept going, but he had no control over his hands, it was like someone else was controlling his body. He also heard someone screaming; again his conscious mind taking a moment to work out it was him doing the yelling. He had heard people say they felt like they had had out of body experiences, but he never believed them. Now he did; he watched through his eyes, but he was not part of his body. He knew he had to stop but his body would not respond to his mind's demands.

He was going to kill his father, and he was OK with that … more than OK, he deserved it. The hatred had become a physical thing, he could feel it envelope him, could taste it and could even see it. He watched as this murderers face became a bloody misshapen mess, cuffed hands clawed and scratched at Tony's arms and face trying to stop the slaughter.

Arms grabbed him from behind and pulled him from his enemy, words were shouted but they made no sense. He watched as Senior tried to gasp for breath through his broken and bloody face. Tony kicked out, fought against his captors with every last bit of strength in his body to get back, growling in frustration; desperate to finish the job he started but those strong arms held him back keeping him from his prey. That is what he had become, an animal, desperate to take down his weaker opponent. He could hear someone whispering in his ear, "Tony, it's OK, we have him, he's not getting away now. You're OK, you're OK…" Finally these words broke through the fog of rage and he collapsed back against one of the three men holding him back.

His anger gave way to overwhelming sorrow. Why should this man live when so many people had died his hands, including his own mother, and the little boy who had once been know as Michael. Uncontrollable sobs now escaped from him, his body shook and bucked with the power of them. Gibbs and Fornell knew the fight had gone out of him, so they, along with the other Agent needed to restrain him, let him go. He fell to his knees, every ounce of energy gone from his usually strong body.

Gibbs knelt on the floor beside him and put his arm around Tony, pulling him in and holding the crying man as tight as could. "It's over, we got him," he repeated over and over.

Fornell placed his hand on Tony's shoulder and squeezed and then left Gibbs to deal with the distraught man while he helped pulled the disoriented and barely conscious Senior up from the floor and removed him from the room, calling for medical attention as he left.

Eventually Tony regained some composure. He slumped back against the wall and Gibbs sat back beside him. They sat quietly for a long while before Tony finally spoke again, "What happens to me now?"

"We got him; apart from being the star witness, you are free to walk," Gibbs said.

"No I mean... who do I become now?"

Gibbs shook his head, "That I can't answer."