The waiting was killing him…and the worry of Kort double-crossing them.

But The CIA had made things crystal clear to Kort – he would be taking a dirt nap for his retirement if he screwed this up. They had to hope it was enough. They knew if Latham caught wind of the sting, he would disappear with some of the blood money he's stashed in the Caymans.

Two days after Tony's father had angrily stormed out of the office, the news was relayed that Kort was successful in interesting Latham about his new potential buyer, Prince Omar Ibn Alwaan.

According to Kort's report, Latham took the bait, salivating at the vast resources Ibn Alwaan had. When Latham checked into the Prince, he found the well of money was deep enough to surprise even Kort himself.

Now they just had to wait for the auction, and put everything else into action based on the terms they were hoping Ibn Alwaan could negotiate.

There were five days left to go.

Tony was restless. Confined to the Yard or Gibbs' house. He was starting to go stir crazy. And his stitches were itching him madly.

He had no choice but to go down and ask Ducky to take some out, but dreaded the focus it would bring to his ordeal. As it was, he was still suffering nightmares, and random flashbacks that always included the damned whispering voices.

"Why hello, Tony. So nice to see you!" Ducky greeted him as he entered the suite. Ah, everything alright?" The M.E. was glad to see him, though he hadn't expected him.

"I'm okay, Ducky...I just need...some of the stitches out. They're driving me crazy..." he said plainly.

Ducky stared at him for a bit. "Yes, I would imagine you are quite uncomfortable. Alright. Sit down. Give me a moment to gather the proper supplies."

As he moved around the room, he casually said, "How is your cough? And any fever?"

"I'm fine."

Ducky frowned behind Tony. "Yes…I thought you'd say that. Well, I will take your temperature just in case then."

"Ducky, I-"

He didn't finish as Ducky swiped the thermometer across his head.

"Excellent. Normal."

"I'm glad something is," Tony said, a little sadly.

Ducky came to stand in front of him. Looking into the tired green eyes, he carefully asked, "Are you experiencing some effects of the hallucinogens?"

Tony frowned and looked down. He nodded.

Ducky gave him a sympathetic glance, and turned, saying, "If you would, this will be easier if you removed some clothing and lie down on the table. I'll get a sheet so it's a little less frigid on your skin. Did you take the percoset this morning? I think you'll need to lie on your side because of the fractures in your ribs."

"I took it," Tony said, almost like a confession. He hated taking painkillers, but the ribs were still too hard to deal with otherwise.

Within a few minutes, Tony was laying on his good side, facing the wall on one of the autopsy tables, his head resting on his arm. Ducky covered him with another sheet, and just left visible areas he needed to work on. He sat behind the younger man, and squeezed antibacterial solution onto a cotton pad to prepare the first of the many cuts.

Tony shivered at the contact of the cold liquid on his skin.

Ducky knew it would be easier for Tony to talk to him, while he didn't have to look him in the eye. The younger man was brave, by all accounts, but struggled with emotions like fear and anger. He'd known him long enough to know when to be a little of a trickster, if necessary.

"So," he said as he pulled at one of the stitches, "What kind of flashbacks are they?"

"Uh, what do you mean?" Tony asked, and then winced as another stitch came out. He was trying not to let himself become more nauseous than when he came in. But the feeling of someone touching his back again…made his skin crawl.

"Well," Ducky said, maintaining the casual air, "flashbacks can be visual, auditory, olfactory…they can manifest differently or even overlap…"

Tony sighed shakily.

"I'd say… visual, and auditory."

Ducky was silent, waiting him out a little while he worked.

"It's different every time…but," he swallowed, "Stratton is always in there somewhere…and the damned whispering…"

""Whispering? Very curious."

"Yeah…and, it's like, I can't understand what it is they're saying. It really drives me- ah!" he hissed in pain as Ducky pulled harder to get one particular stitch out. His heart was starting to thump faster in his chest.

"I am sorry, Tony. If you need me to stop for a bit, let me know, but most of these really need to come out. The longer ones…should stay in for a while. They were a bit deeper."

Tony just nodded, trying to control the panic that was rising in him.

Ducky continued, "And how are you sleeping?"

He noticed Tony was quiet for a while.

"Tony?"

"Well, if you don't count that I wake Gibbs up almost every night with my yelling…just fine."

"I'm sure he is more than willing to help you with just about anything, Tony." His tone was gentle, as he pulled at another, more stubborn stitch, he knew had to hurt.

"I…I'm really lucky." Tony said it, so softly, Ducky strained to hear it. "I dunno what I'd do without Gibbs, and you. And the team…"

It brought water to Ducky's eyes.

Another pull at his back almost had him jump, but he knew Ducky was just trying to help and take care of him.

So he made himself be still, and though memories of Stratton causing him excruciating pain tickled at his mind, he willed them not to come.

"It must have been awful, on that ship," Ducky said sadly. "We are very lucky you came back alive, Tony. You mean a lot, to all of us. I just…can't imagine what it was like for you…"

Tony tried to hold them back, but tears fell from the corners of his eyes, onto his arm, and then landing on the table.

"It was…lonely…" he almost whispered it.

Ducky stopped what he was doing for just a moment, and put his fingers on Tony's shoulder, "You're back now, and we won't ever let something like this happen to you again."

Tony nodded again, and prayed that was true.