Gibbs took Tony home in the afternoon, glad for the information that was provided to him, and the meds that would hopefully help his friend recover.
But he also knew, most doctors had never treated someone who went through what Tony did. So, he took nothing for granted, but was hopeful.
Tony was still withdrawn, but there was definitely a bit of improvement.
They were both slow, getting out of the car and into the house.
Gibbs made coffee.
Tony sat on the couch.
Gibbs in the chair.
And they were just quiet for a while.
After a while, Tony's eyes were closing, his head falling back on the couch. Likely, Gibbs thought still exhaustion, as he hadn't taken any more medication since the morning.
Gibbs gently sighed. He was relieved they were home, and that the nightmare was over. And he hoped above all else that Tony would be okay in a few weeks, and they could all move on from the damage Latham and Stratton did.
He remembered the first real look at the damage they did to Tony's body, in autopsy, after Jarvis' interrogation.
He shuddered and shook his head to himself, worry lines around his eyes intensifying for a moment.
He never imagined something like this could happen, as a result of someone in their own military. And it really bothered him that Jarvis had forced Tony into it, right under Gibbs' nose. It still made him burn with anger, if he thought about it too long. About Latham, and Stratton, and all the pain they caused.
Tony could have easily been dead several times over, and could have had a complete breakdown. It was a testament to his strength and courage, that he survived as intact as he was. Tony came close to losing his mind because of what was done to him. Gibbs almost couldn't bear the thought.
Gibbs gazed at the sleeping face.
"What would we do without you, DiNozzo?" he asked softly.
At least, with Rachel Cranston helping, Gibbs knew Tony had good chances of passing a psych eval when he was ready to take it. When...not if. Thank God, he thought.
Gibbs closed his eyes for a moment, continuing the silent prayer of thanks.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
It was Vance on the caller ID. He scowled.
"Gibbs."
"Like you don't know who's calling, Agent Gibbs."
"And how was your day, Leon?" Gibbs offered a little smugly.
"Well, so far, about as well as you might expect, Jethro, considering I've had a lot of explaining to do."
Gibbs was silent.
"I already told the President, our President, that Secretary Jarvis was shot while trying to personally assist in the arrest of Sean Latham. And I told him that though Latham had been disarmed, enemy fire from his men caused the distraction he needed to get hold of a weapon and discharge it."
Gibbs was still silent, raising his brow, feeling surprised by what he heard. It was a good corroboration with what Ziva had seen, before she was placed outside in the fray. Leaving the only crucial report to him.
"Since both Agents David and McGee were not there, and you have been otherwise preoccupied, can I assume that I filled in the blanks correctly? And that Agent DiNozzo's...condition was due to the stress of the kidnapping and the mission?"
Gibbs said, "Leon..."
"I was in that room with you, when Jarvis brought DiNozzo in. He's been through enough. But I want your report tomorrow, on my desk by 11:00 hours. And Gibbs, don't make me regret it," Vance said, a little angrily, and hung up.
Gibbs looked at the phone for a moment, and smiled while flipping it closed. " You're getting soft in your old age, Leon."
He put the phone down on the kitchen table as he went in for more coffee.
He was about to pick up the pot when he heard Tony cry out and something hit his living room floor.
As he turned quickly to run in and see what had happened, Tony got up from where he must have landed on the floor, and stumbled to the corner of the room near the couch.
Gibbs watched as Tony leaned into it, putting his hands on the wall, and slid down into a ball while struggling to take deeper breaths. He put his shaking arms around his legs, pulling them to him.
Gibbs approached slowly, sitting down a few feet from him.
Tony put his head down, on his knees.
"Tony," Gibbs said calmly, "what's going on? Were you dreaming?"
He didn't answer right away.
Then, with a quivering voice, "I dunno, because...I don't know... if this is the dream..."
He picked his head up to look at Gibbs, with desperation.
"What if..." he swallowed, "What if I'm still there, in the chair..." his green eyes were wild now, looking at Gibbs. "or...I'm still hanging from the hook...and..." he was having trouble finishing,"what if I'm not home..."
"You are. You. Are. Home."
"Maybe..." he swallowed back a sob that got caught in his throat," you're not real..."
Gibbs looked at him for a long moment.
He leaned forward, and smacked Tony in the back of his head.
"Ow," Tony rubbed his head, eyes wide.
"That feel real to you, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked gently.
"Uh..." his eyes were still watery but he smiled just a bit, "yeah, Boss. It did."
Gibbs smiled back at him. "Good."
"That one…that one was pretty hard, Boss."
"Yeah, well..." Gibbs said, groaning as he got up,"the harder the head the harder the smack." He smiled and offered a hand to Tony.
Tony looked up at him, hesitating, but finally reached up with his shaking one. Gibbs helped haul him to his feet, steadying him.
Gibbs could feel see slight tremors still going through him.
"How about coming downstairs and keep me company while I sand? Maybe I'll order food in a while..."
Tony nodded, but didn't look at him or say anything else.
He kept Gibbs company, choosing to lie under the boat, with some bubble wrap he found under his head, opposite the end where Gibbs was working.
He was content enough to be there, near Gibbs. He focused on the sounds coming from the fine sandpaper Gibbs was using on the wood, doing his best just to be home, to feel it, and not think about it.
He didn't speak another word that night.