Tony stared at Jarvis for another moment. Then leaned forward and said very seriously, "If it weren't for O'Shea, we would not be having this…little discussion we're having. I might have never come back…" his eyes flicked up to the mirror and back to Jarvis. "Or…I may have come back and killed you, for all I know, and ended up in prison or the looney bin…" he trailed off…then looked off to the side, saying speculatively, "Maybe I'll still end up there…"
"O'Shea was on The Phantom?" Jarvis asked.
"Yes."
"Was he working directly with Latham and Stratton? Anything to do with the microchips?"
Tony shook his head, "No. He was just…in the right place at the right time…again."
(Flashback)
Tony was lying on the floor of Latham's interrogation room. He was on his side, afraid to put any pressure on his damaged back. And he heard whispers in his mind…he couldn't silence them. Nor could he tell what they were saying.
He had been hallucinating again earlier, while they were torturing him. The horrible pain that had wracked his body was causing his mind to conjure up nightmarish visions.
He thought he was in a river, swimming, but realized he was actually floating above it. It was lined with rainforest type trees and plants. On the bank of the river, sat a desk, and McGee was at it on the phone. He called to him desperately, but he was too far away.
He kept floating, strangely just above the rippling surface. He looked down. It was so dark…he couldn't see what was in it.
Suddenly, a blinding, excruciating pain shot up his thigh. It took his breath from him. He couldn't understand how, but pihranas the size of truck wheels were floating with him above the water, and one was floating next to him, his flesh in it's teeth.
He'd screamed. And the pain kept coming, and the hallucination continued, until he passed out.
In between "re-programming" sessions, they gave him drugged water, and little to eat. They used electroshock and knives, in an overlapping series of combinations, with Stratton's face always somewhere looming, mocking him.
It would go on for a few days, before the "nice" phase.
Two men would pull him up off the floor, out of a puddle of his own blood or vomit or urine, and drag him to the door of the room, taking him out into the fresh sea air, where he could hardly see because his eyes weren't used to getting much light.
He was ushered into yet another room. The"clean up"room.
Hands he couldn't connect yet with faces stripped him of his clothing, standing him up in a shower stall, and washing away the blood and sweat. Sometimes he felt he would pass out while they did this, but being naked and vulnerable set off enough adrenaline in him to keep him at least semi-conscious. Sometimes he would be silent, and sometimes he would quietly weep.
Then it was into new scrubs-type clothing, unless they needed to stitch up the latest damage Stratton inflicted on him, so he didn't bleed to death or get an infection. After all, they wanted him fit enough for his mission. The one they were trying to break him to do.
And finally, the sickest part of all.
The civilized dinner with Latham.
They would drag him to Latham's quite luxurious state room. It was decorated with maritime antiques, and U.S. Navy paraphernalia. A large walnut desk sat up against one wall, a round dining table at the other, and straight ahead the open hatchway revealed a similarly decorated bed chamber. It all seemed out of place, for a military vessel…
But Latham wasn't military anymore, exactly, was he?
Tony was sat in a chair, in front of a round table. He could usually, only barely sit up.
The table was set, plates, silverware, glasses, and napkins. And a covered platter in the middle, which gave off the mouth watering smell of cooked food.
It made him almost sick at how hungry he was.
Latham would come in and sit down, smiling politely. And it made Tony feel even more insane when Latham talked to him, so…nonchalantly.
He remembered the first conversation.
"I had an excellent meal prepared for you, Tony. Stratton gets rather angry when I do anything nice for you. But," Latham poured himself a glass of wine from a bottle on the table, "I keep telling him you'll agree to do what we want soon. Right?"
Tony looked at him, the whispering voices in his mind still murmuring…something.
Latham took the lid off the platter, revealing what looked to be beef brisket and vegetables.
He took some, and put it on Tony's plate, and then onto his own.
He looked at Tony for another moment, "I think Stratton likes you, really, to spend so much time with you. But, he just can't bring himself to show it in a nice way. It's probably why he has so few friends."
Latham took a bite of the meat, and motioned for Tony to eat.
Since it didn't appear to be poisoned, he slowly picked up his fork, and ate some, wondering if he should try to kill Latham with the fork, if he had the strength to do it. But he'd already been labeled a traitor to any of the crew who were aware of his existence on the ship. He wasn't sure what the right move was. And the whispering voices kept distracting him.
Maybe he should just say yes, lie and tell them he would do it. Would kill Jarvis. And then get home, and not do it, and tell them all the truth…but how could he get any kind of real proof? To open up an investigation and have Latham arrested before he and Stratton hurt the people Tony loved? It would only be his word. He knew Gibbs would believe him…but Jarvis?
He thought about E.J. And thought about the team, and how he could never live with one of them being murdered by these bastards. He wanted to trust Gibbs could fix it, the whole mess. But the night he had gone to talk to the older man, he discovered Gibbs had been keeping something from him. And it made him second guess coming clean about the chip…
He forced himself to chew slowly, knowing the food would just come up on him after not eating for days, if he ate too fast.
"Have you revisited your decision on helping us?" Latham asked, as he would at each dinner after with Tony.
Tony just stared at him, and said nothing.
Latham sighed. "Well, I hope things don't get too bad for you with Stratton. He wants to try out some other…interesting things with your reprogramming." He said it casually, as if it were usual dinner conversation. Tony shuddered, closing his eyes for a moment.
"I hope you'll reconsider soon. Stratton gets a little too much pleasure out of this."
Latham got up and called two men in, who dragged Tony out, back to the interrogation room, which had been hosed down with bleach and water.
This was repeated, several times over. Tony knew after a few weeks, he was slipping down the rabbit hole, losing his mind…
But then there was the day, while they were dragging him from the interrogation room, being blinded by the light outside again, when he heard the voice.
"Whoa, what's going on here?" it was a familiar voice…
Tony squinted and picked his head up, seeing Brian O'Shea look him in the face, and shock register in his eyes.
Tony immediately shook his head, in subtle warning, for Brian not to acknowledge they knew each other.
One of the men holding him up said, "This guy is an enemy of the country, been selling military secrets to foreign governments. Latham's got him here for questioning. Other than that, can't tell you." And then they ignored O'Shea, who was dumbstruck, watching them disappear around a corner with his friend.