Gibbs awoke the following morning, surprised to find Tony awake and dressed and staring out the window. Gibbs almost sighed as he took in the black suit and determined set of the man's shoulders. Don't do this, Tony, he thought, getting up wordlessly and entering the small bathroom. Don't go. You're not going to find what you need there.
Gibbs returned to find Tony had not moved and he stared at his agent's back for a moment, realizing Tony had slit the sleeve of the expensive suit to allow for the cast on his left hand. Gibbs knew the significance of the action, and he suddenly wished he hadn't always been so insistent about not showing weakness. Sometimes he forgot just how deeply Tony took the things he said to heart.
Looking at the slit sleeve, Gibbs noticed he'd cut the material straight up the seam. An experienced tailor would easily make a repair, leaving no trace of the damage. Gibbs found himself wishing there was an equivalent for his friend's tattered soul—and then wondering if that was really for the best.
Tony turned, and Gibbs forced himself not to wince at the pain in his eyes. He saw Tony evaluate his own dark clothing with an odd expression that bordered on guilt, but neither man spoke as they left the room for the last time.
Gibbs drove while Tony gave him directions in a monotone, his voice barely above a whisper that Gibbs had to strain to hear. He heard Tony's breathing hitch and a glance to his right revealed a pale-faced Tony who looked like he was going to be sick.
"Pull over here, would you?" Tony asked raggedly, pointing to the wooded shoulder of the deserted road and making Gibbs realize how far they had driven.
Gibbs complied, watching Tony get out of the car unsteadily. He wasn't surprised when his passenger walked to the treeline, and Gibbs stayed put to give him some privacy. But he was surprised when Tony didn't stop and walked into the woods purposefully. Gibbs got out of the car and jogged lightly after his agent, deciding not to call his name.
Gibbs followed as Tony walked through the woods, not sure if his agent even knew he was there. They picked their way through the trees, Gibbs wincing every time a branch snagged the expensive material of Tony's dark suit.
They finally came to a small pond in a clearing bordered on one side with trees, softly rolling field on the other, and Gibbs approached his silent friend, watching him stare at the water, his eyes similar in color but nowhere near as calm as the gently rippling surface. Gibbs didn't speak as he stopped and stood off to Tony's right. He simply watched him watch the water and wondered what he was thinking—and what the significance of this place was.
As if in answer to his thoughts, the first thing Tony said after a long while was, "This was her favorite place."
Gibbs realized with a start that they were on the property of Tony's old home and suddenly the circuitous route through the woods made sense. Tony had no idea if his family still owned the place.
Gibbs didn't know what to say—or if he should even say anything. He desperately wanted to ask if Tony wanted to be alone, but he didn't, figuring he would say yes either way and not wanting to leave him if he didn't actually want the solitude.
"Her ashes are scattered here," Tony said, his eyes still on the water but not entirely in the present. "It was a huge fight between the families because hers wanted her buried in the family plot. But we knew what she wanted. And that was to be here. I think it was for me. She knew I loved spending time with her out here, and she always thought cemeteries were depressing. I think she wanted me to be able to remember her as she was when we were here. We made snow angels in that field over there, right before she got sick."
Gibbs watched Tony's hands start to shake, watched him draw a deep breath. He wanted to touch him, but he knew it was a bad idea—that he would shut down immediately at even the barest of contact. Gibbs didn't dare speak for fear of breaking the spell.
"It was really the most kind thing he ever did for her, fighting her family like that and making sure her wishes were followed. Really the most kind thing he ever did for me, too, but I don't know if he knew why she wanted what she wanted. But he could never say no to her."
Tony wrapped his arms around himself, his head down and his eyes closed as he fought the emotions threatening to tear him apart. Gibbs just listened and watched, feeling more helpless than he had in a long time.
"He was stone-faced through the entire little ceremony. He didn't cry, didn't speak a word to anyone. One of her sisters held me the whole time, and I barely saw any of it because I had my face buried in her neck. I didn't want to see the ashes, didn't want to think of her reduced to nothing like that. I think I was still having a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that she was never coming back. My aunt smelled like roses. Just like my mother. That's really all I remember. That and his face, because I was sitting in her lap, facing him. He didn't look at me once. Not until it was over and she tried to hand me over to him. I was a tiny little kid back then, but he put me down immediately without a word. He just stood here, staring at the pond, while I wrapped my fists in his jacket, clinging to him for dear life."
Gibbs noted that Tony's right hand was clutching a fistful of his own black suit jacket, his knuckles white with the strain. Tony's mouth twisted into an expression somewhere between a humorless smile and a grimace.
"I remember him reaching down and prying my fingers off him, smoothing the wrinkles from the material and pushing me away. I just stood there—here. Forever it seemed. People came up to us, but he didn't speak to them. They tried to pull me away, but I wanted to stay with him. Every time I reached out to touch him, he just batted my hand away. And one by one they left us there—here. I don't remember giving in and sitting on the cold ground, but I remember him coming back to life and looking down at me with disgust, asking me what my mother would think about me ruining my new suit."
Gibbs flinched, lifting his hand and letting it hang in the air before letting it drop again. He just waited for Tony to continue, selfishly hoping he wouldn't have to stand there and listen to another emotionless description of abuse. He wasn't sure he could handle that.
"I didn't say anything—there wasn't really anything to say to that. I just sat as still as I could, thinking about that night after he made me leave the hospital and hoping he wouldn't hit me again. But I think that would have taken too much effort," Tony said, his voice shaking as hard as his hands as he stared at the pond. His anguished gaze lifted and settled on the field, vibrantly green in the morning sun. But all he saw was freshly fallen snow. "He walked away, that way, toward the house. I followed him because I couldn't think of anything else to do, but about halfway across the field, he held up his hand to me and told me to stay away from him. I'll never forget the sound of his voice when he said that. It was December, but the temperature was practically tropical compared to the coldness in those words."
Gibbs' hand twitched again at his side, but he let it hang there. Rage warred with grief at Tony's sad monotone, and he found himself wishing Tony would share the anger Gibbs felt at the callousness of a father turning his back on a hurting child. You didn't deserve that, Tony. He was about to give that thought a voice when Tony continued, an odd little smile on an otherwise tortured face.
"They found me making snow angels in the field around dusk, still wearing my muddy little suit. I couldn't feel the cold anymore, and that freaked them out—which freaked me out, too, because I had two grieving Italian women suddenly worried I was going to die or something."
A soft, shaky laugh escaped his lips at the memory, and Gibbs smiled back at him until he realized that Tony had done it again—taken a horrible, painful memory and twisted it into something amusing.
Tony suddenly turned to Gibbs and stared at him for a moment, as if remembering he wasn't alone. He took a breath, shrugged and said, "But I'm not dead, and they both are, so can we go home now?"
Gibbs blinked at the abruptness of the shift in his mood. He sounded like typical bored-Tony who had solved the case and was ready to move on.
Gibbs didn't buy it for a second.
But he also wasn't about to challenge it, either, so he just nodded. "Ready whenever you are."
Tony glanced back at the pond before turning toward the woods.
He whispered, "I'm already gone."