CHAPTER 6

As Gibbs had predicted, McGee turned up at the hospital around six the night before, along with Dorneget, Ducky and Ellie. They joined Abby and Palmer, who had been hanging around for hours, waiting for the chance to see him. When Gibbs emerged from the VIP wing after visiting Tony, it was to be jumped six well-meaning people who were there to take him home.

All seven of them packed into a passenger van that McGee had acquired from the NCIS vehicle pool. In less than an hour they arrived at Kelly Brook Farm, where they were met by Ducky. "I'm fine, Ducky," Gibbs said tiredly, wishing they'd all just go away. Ducky asked some questions about the injury, but otherwise left Jethro alone.

Dornie and Ellie cooked up a meal for everybody, but Jethro was too tired to do it justice. Although they all tried to be helpful, it got to the point where Gibbs had to tell them all to go home. It was decided that Abby and Palmer would stay, though Jethro had little say in the matter. Abby had made sure he was comfortable in bed, and kissed him good night. Palmer gave him the prescribed dose of painkillers and, Jethro later found out, checked on him at regular intervals throughout the night.

The next morning they found Jethro mucking out the stalls one-handed. Abby lost her temper and gave him a lecture, saying there was no shame in asking for help. She then gave Gibbs a big hug, and as soon as they let the horses out into the paddock, she started cleaning out the stalls as if it were the best job in the world, and when BigBoy pooped in his water bucket, she exclaimed, "Isn't he funny?"

Standing to one side twiddling his thumbs was frustrating for Gibbs, but the way his arm was trussed up, and with Abby now in charge, he had little choice but to take it easy. Both Abby and Palmer knew their way around horses, so apart from Abby's early morning chatter getting on Jethro's nerves, everything went smoothly.

Palmer volunteered to drive Jethro to his appointment with the FBI, because even if Jethro insisted he could drive to DC with one working arm, his truck had still not been repaired. "Dr. Mallard left his Bentley here for us to use," Palmer said with an eager smile. "It's a shame his Morgan finally succumbed to termites and he had to put her down. It was a sad day, indeed." Apparently McGee had driven Ducky home in the van, along with the others, last night.

"I think my truck's got a few years in her yet," Jethro replied, thinking he should get on with the repairs to his only mode of transportation.

Seeing what Jethro was about to do, Abby volunteered to fix the truck, since the mechanic had left the parts they needed in the garage. "I was ten when I stripped down Uncle Larry's '57 Chevy. I think I can handle your F-250," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Don't you people have to go to work?" Gibbs demanded.

"Director Vance gave us both the day off," Abby said, beaming as she waved goodbye, and headed for the shed where Gibbs kept his truck. "You relax, Gibbs, and let us do this for you."

Jethro gave in, grumbling as he eased himself into Ducky's Bentley. "You need me to navigate?" he asked Palmer.

"No thanks. I've got it. I even took a class in GPS navigation," Palmer said proudly.

Palmer drove way too slowly for Gibbs' liking, but his boast about knowing all about GPS proved to be true, so Gibbs not only arrived at the FBI headquarters without incident, but he was also on time.

On the journey to DC, Gibbs zoned out Palmer's chatter, and instead thought about Tony. The truth was that he had thought of little but Tony since he'd left Tony's hospital room the night before. Gibbs didn't know what to make of his…well, his interest in the congressman. Initially, Gibbs had wanted to get to the bottom of the mystery of his uninvited guest, who'd appeared during what had to be the worst storm Prince George's County had ever seen, but that wasn't all of it. He had also felt protective towards Tony, and had wanted to get his hands on the kidnapper so he could tear him apart. Later on, when Beals had intruded in his home, and had laid his hands on Tony, had hurt him…Well, the white-hot anger Jethro had felt coursing through him could only be called murderous.

Gibbs had liked Tony pretty much from the start, and had admired the young man's inner strength that shone brightly despite everything he'd gone through. He admired Tony's bravery and openness. Tony had been candid with him, which apparently was not the norm. Gibbs had soon discovered that the Congressman had two quite different faces, the public and the private one. Now that was something that Gibbs knew about through personal experience. He'd learned over the years to keep his emotions dampened, not to let criminals or their victims see what he was feeling. It was the best defense against ex-wives, too, because nothing good ever came of letting his emotions loose, or from exposing himself and allowing any vulnerability to show. If you showed one iota of weakness to those women, they immediately pounced upon it.

Gibbs expected that he had felt a bond with Tony once he'd learned had been a cop before he'd turned to politics. Tony had also run his own threat assessment company and had expressed his desire to get back into that line of work. Most law enforcement officers, no matter what their branch, felt a brotherhood with each other. Hell, he liked the guy, but if Gibbs was truthful with himself, he'd have to admit that there was more to it than one man helping out another in a time of need. A lot more. There was no denying that he found Tony to be damned attractive, even when he was banged up and wearing nothing but a towel.

Right from the start, there had been something more to this affinity he'd felt for Tony, beyond simple attraction. Exactly what that something more was, remained rather elusive.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

Gibbs had written up hundreds of case reports over the years, and he had taken a thousand statements, yet being interviewed by Agent Fornell about his part in the Congressman DiNozzo kidnapping case was not easy.

After Palmer dropped him off at FBI headquarters, Gibbs got his clearance and was escorted up to Agent Fornell's office. Gibbs wrote his statement by hand, and Fornell also conducted an interview, which was recorded. It was like being interrogated, although with plenty of coffee at hand. Gibbs told the facts about what had occurred the night that Congressman DiNozzo had appeared at his door, asking for shelter from the storm. He kept it brief and impersonal, and gave a detailed account of his encounter with Frank Beals, and the man's subsequent death.

Afterwards, Fornell offered him lunch, but Gibbs said thanks, but no thanks, though he did accept an agent and a car to drive him home instead of making Palmer do the trip out to Bowie again. Once they were in the car, he asked the agent, a young man by the name of Ruttiger, to stop at the hospital, so he could check on Tony's progress. Actually, Gibbs ordered the man to pull over, and got out before the parking brake had even been set.

When heading for the VIP wing, Gibbs encountered Dr. Mason. The doctor was on his way to see a patient, but he stopped when he recognized Gibbs. "Back already?" the doctor asked with a smile.

"I'm here to see Congressman DiNozzo," Gibbs explained.

The doctor's face fell. "Oh, I'm sorry, but he…"

Fear made Gibbs' heart go cold. Tony, something had happened to him…

Dr. Mason reached out and touched Gibbs' arm. "No, it's all right. The Congressman is fine, or he was when he left, about an hour ago," he assured Gibbs. From the doctor's displeased look, Gibbs knew that Tony had been released earlier than was medically sound. When Gibbs asked where the Congressman had gone, thinking Tony would have gone to his Baltimore condo, Dr. Mason said, "His wife picked him up. They were being escorted by a team of FBI agents, to the DiNozzo home, I gather. I heard them say Roland Park."

That was where Tony's wife lived, with their son. A nice big house with a picket fence. The perfect place for the Congressman and his family to reside. Perfect wife, cute kid, PTA meetings and soccer practice, with a nice family dinner together every Friday night.

Hadn't Tony said their divorce was pending? "We filed a few weeks ago. We'll be tied to each other for a few more months."

Gibbs absently thanked the doctor and made his way back to the hospital entrance. Agent Ruttiger was waiting for him at the curb. Once Gibbs was settled in the passenger seat, Ruttiger said, "Agent Fornell told me to take you wherever you want to go. Sir?"

"Take me home," Gibbs said. "To Kelly Brook Farm."

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

There was a knock on the bathroom door. Tony quickly wrapped a towel around his waist and opened it.

Wendy stood there, looking down at a pile of clothing in her arms. "There's still a box of some of your stuff down in the basement. I thought I'd thrown them out."

For a moment Tony had a sense of déjà vu. Instead of his dark-haired, soon-to-be ex-wife, Tony pictured Jethro Gibbs offering him a change of clothing after he'd helped him, shivering and afraid, to undress and get into a hot shower.

Wendy's voice brought Tony out of his fog. "Tony, you need to get dressed if you want dinner with us," she said sharply. Her eyes traveled from Tony's face to his neck, and down his torso. Her hand rose to cover her mouth, a look of shock in her eyes. "Oh my God, I didn't…"

Tony covered his chest with his arms, but it was a futile gesture, doing little to hide the smattering of bruises on his ribs and chest, mostly dark plum, but some already turning a sickly yellow-green. There was no way he could conceal the bruises on his jaw or his neck; he knew from experience they'd look a lot worse over the next week or so. He joked, "I've been on the Kidnapper's Diet for the past week, followed by a course of yummy IV fluids, so I've lost that spare tire you kept telling me to get rid of. And it only cost me a couple of million in ransom money! You should recommend it to all your friends. Of course, the side-effects include getting beaten up and freezing your ass off when you make your escape…"

"Tony, stop! What happened to your shoulder? Stop fidgeting and let me look at it." One thing about Wendy, she recovered quickly and became Ms. Practical. After placing the clean clothes next to the sink, she gave Tony another once-over, though this time her expression was a lot more clinical when she inspected his many bruises and abrasions, including his wrists, where the zip-ties had cut deep. "You didn't tell me it was this bad," she accused.

"No," Tony said tiredly. "No, I didn't."

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

By the time Wendy had arrived at the hospital, he had been dressed in the sweats that Lydia had brought him. Tony had made sure that jacket he was wearing was zipped up to his chin. He didn't want Wendy to see what Beals had done to him, didn't want her to know how vulnerable he'd been. Apart from a black eye and a couple of minor bruises on his face, there was no hint as to the broad spectrum of bruises across his body.

Dr. Pitt had signed the release papers mid-morning, and only because Tony's temperature was back to normal, and he was only occasionally coughing.

"Nothing short of a miracle," Pitt had said, before giving Tony a lecture about taking care of himself. "I know that right now you're feeling positive about getting out of here, and you want to get back to your normal activities, but you've been through a traumatic event, Tony."

"I'm fine," he'd replied, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe so, but I can pretty much guarantee that sometimes in the next few days, this whole thing is going to hit you pretty hard," Pitt had warned. "After any traumatic event, the survivor needs a safe and supportive environment to recuperate in. I'd recommend counseling, too. I know, I know…that's a dirty word. Just the same, let me know if you have trouble sleeping or eating, or have negative changes in your mood–"

"Thank you, but I already know all the symptoms," Tony had said, realizing a second later that he'd raised his voice. "I'm not angry…I'm just tired," he had acknowledged.

Under duress, Tony had agreed to call Brad if he had any issues at all. He'd taken the doctor's card and stuck in his jacket pocket; he had a follow-up appointment with Pitt on the following Tuesday.

Right after Dr. Pitt left, Agent Fornell had arrived, and Tony had figured it was as good a time as any to get his statement out of the way. Once Tony had started writing his version of the events, from the time he'd been kidnapped to the arrival of the police at Jethro's farm, his police report-writing experience had kicked in. He was able to write a decent report by keeping it as succinct as possible.

Fornell had looked it over and had seemed suitably impressed. After asking Tony to clarify a few points, and jotting some notes in the margins, Fornell said he would be in contact with him as soon as he had anything.

"Like finding my money?" Tony had asked.

"At the top of my list, Congressman," Fornell had said in parting.

Soon after that, Wendy had turned up, with an FBI agent on her heels. As soon as she had set eyes on Tony, who had been sitting on the bed, she said briskly, "Good, you're dressed. You've been released so we can go." She had looked him over, and had frowned at the sight of his black eye. "They said you were ready to leave," Wendy had said dubiously.

"They can't wait to get rid of me," Tony had joked, while winking at the nurse who pushed a wheelchair up to the bed.

Once they were in the car, with an FBI agent driving, Wendy had agreed that Tony could stay at her house until the next day. "I'm taking Zachary to my parents' place tomorrow. He has the week off from school," she'd said, as they were driven to her house. "It's ridiculous, sending an agent along with me, as some sort of bodyguard. I can't imagine where he's going to stay, and my parents are going to have a fit over the whole thing. At least I'm able to take some of my work with me," she'd said, casting a resentful look at Tony.

Glad he wasn't accompanying Wendy to her parents' place, Tony had pretended to sleep for the rest of the journey.

Wendy had put Tony in the guest room, which was fine by him. He would never have been able to sleep if the pain meds he took hadn't made him so drowsy. He'd slept all day, somewhat restlessly, until Wendy had knocked on the door around five, to tell him dinner would be on the table in an hour.

"Where's Zack?" Tony had asked groggily. The room was dark and the clock on the nightstand said 5:00 PM.

"He's doing homework until dinnertime, a book report he should have handed in this morning. The teacher gave him until tomorrow to hand it in, considering…everything," Wendy had said, casting a look over her shoulder. "He's down in the rec room. I haven't told him you're here yet. I don't want a fuss."

Tony had nodded, not really understanding. "I really need a shower. You got any clothes for me? These ones smell like hospital," he'd said, sniffing at the sweats Lydia had brought him from his condo.

Wendy had gone to find him something to wear.

Getting up had been difficult, as Tony had felt like crap and everything had ached, but the hot water had done wonders.

He was looking forward to seeing his son for the first time since he'd been kidnapped. He still didn't know what Wendy had told Zack about what had happened to his father. It was funny, but for a woman who wrote news stories for a living, she tended to keep current events out of the house; no news tv and no newspaper. Of course, Zack was only ten, and although he had a general idea of what was going on in the world, he was more interested in movies and video games.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

Tony craned his neck to check out the wound on his shoulder, where Jethro had extracted a big splinter. They'd taken care of it at the hospital, even though the nurse had said that Jethro had done a fine field dressing. The bandage must have come off in the shower. "Guess I need the first-aid kit." Flushing under Wendy's scrutiny, Tony made light of the damage. "''Tis but a scratch.'" Then in a higher voice he said, "A scratch? Your arm's off!'" Back to the first voice, he replied, "'No it isn't.'"

Wendy's expression hardened. "How can you joke about this? About what that animal did to you? Those marks are from a fist, Tony! And your ribs and your neck–"

Tony blurted, "I know damned well what the crazy man did. I was there, remember?" He picked up the sweats he'd worn from the hospital and tossed them in a hamper. The smell of antiseptic made him feel nauseous. "Just…drop it, okay?" he requested, turning away.

"What else did he do to you?" Wendy asked, somehow making it sound as if whatever had occurred was all Tony's fault.

Tony could hear his father's angry voice as if it were yesterday."What have you done now, Junior?"

Tony took a deep breath, draped another towel around his shoulders, and turned to smile at Wendy. There was no way she was going to let this go, and he'd already had enough curiosity about what had really happened, from his own friends.

Early that morning, when Lydia had come by the hospital with Tony's clothes, she had been accompanied by two of Tony's friends. One was his fellow congressman, John Rodriguez of the 1st District, and the other was Senator Van Buren, from New York, who'd come up from DC when he'd heard Tony was in the hospital.

The two men had done their best to avoid looking at his bruises, but it had been a bit awkward. Tony had taken pains to put them at ease. Lydia had burst into tears as soon as she'd seen him, but after a hug and some good-natured ribbing, Tony had had her smiling again. Even though these people truly cared about him, it had been obvious that they were wondering exactly what he'd been through. He had seen a bit of guilt in their eyes, because it had been obvious that they were glad it hadn't happened to them. It was human nature, a survival instinct, but even knowing that didn't make Tony feel any better.

With Wendy scowling at him across the bathroom, Tony tried to lighten the mood by doing what he often did – he started taking about a scene in a movie that seemed to fit the situation. "You remember the couple who kidnapped Bette Midler on the phone, making demands to her husband? The kidnapper is pressing a spatula down hard on a burger making it sizzle while he demands a bigger ransom, and Midler's screaming in the background, and her husband doesn't give a–"

"Tony!" Wendy protested. "The FBI advised against paying the ransom, but you know your father was trying to raise the money."

"C'mon, you loved Ruthless People," Tony cajoled. "Besides, I had kidnapping insurance."

"You what? Why didn't you ever tell me?" she demanded, her hands on her hips.

"It isn't the kind of thing you advertise," Tony pointed out. "The likelihood of being held for ransom in the United States is statistically quite low, compared to Mexico or India…or being kidnapped by Somali pirates." Despite his throat becoming increasingly sore, Tony continued, "Did you know that the pirates have to ask for $2 million ransom just to break even, because each crewmember demands $75,000 in pay. Plus…now get this…the pirate who brings his own ladder to board the ship gets an extra $10,000 in bonus money." His voice was fading towards the end of his speech. The medication they'd given him before he'd left the hospital, to ease the pain in his throat, was wearing off. He'd been warned not to exert his voice for several days. It was a bit late for that. The way his luck was going, he'd have no voice by tomorrow.

Tony's office and his attorney had had his instructions about what to do should he ever be abducted, and they'd followed them to the letter. Ransom money was obtained from the bank, and it was delivered according to the kidnapper's instructions. Technically, Tony should have been released upon payment – although there was a 60% chance that a kidnapper would kill his victim anyway – only it had turned out that Tony's abductor was a nutcase who had apparently planned to kill him right from the start. Currently the insurance company's two million was out there somewhere, with the FBI still looking for it.

"You purposely kept me, and your father, out of the loop, Tony," Wendy criticized. "And they said that you were taken from directly outside your condo, which only confirms what I told you, that it was a dangerous neighborhood. You never take any precautions and–"

Tony shrugged and cut her off. "You're right. I brought this on myself. Just be happy you didn't have to sell of this house to pay for my safe return." Before Wendy could reply, Tony quoted his favorite sci-fi, Firefly. "'Dear diary: Today we were kidnapped by hill folk, never to be seen again. It was the best day ever.'"

Wendy's cheeks were turning red. "You can't make it all go away by pretending that life is a movie, Tony!"

Tony put on a shocked expression. "I can't?"

"You'll never change," she accused.

"I'm sorry to remind you, I've told you so, lots of times," Tony retorted, a little sadly. "You shoulda believed me, honey." He pulled a soft, long-sleeved T-shirt over his head, wincing. "You, on the other hand, have changed. It's pretty sad, isn't it, that you don't know me at all, and yet I know you too well."

For a moment he thought his wife was going to slap him, but she didn't. It was a close call.

"Your father and I both feel that you need to re-think your position," Wendy said, her voice hard.

Ah, now that the kidnapping was out of the way, his wife was thinking about what she referred to as 'your ridiculous idea to leave politics and go back to that company you started.' Tony huffed out a breath of air. "It's none of my father's business, as I have told him on more than one occasion."

"I've been talking to him and–"

"You and Dad have been plotting, putting your heads together? I think I should be scared." He really shouldn't have been surprised. His father had always had a soft spot for Wendy, and she wasn't above recruiting Dad if she thought it would help get her what she wanted.

Tony was curious about what Senior had said when Agent Fornell questioned him about his connection to Marian Tozier. And why had the man who had kidnapped Tony placed a phone call to Senior in the first place? Tony didn't believe his father had anything to do with Frank Beals, although the deranged son-of-a-bitch may have tried to extricate an additional ransom from Senior. His father could explain his way out of anything, and Tony wished Fornell luck in getting anything useful out of him. Being unable to do any investigating himself was frustrating, and he had to put his trust in the FBI's skills.

Tony made a motion for Wendy to turn around so he could pull the sweatpants on. Wendy rolled her eyes. It wasn't his junk he was trying to hide from her – although she no longer had any right to see him naked – but the dark purple bruises on his hips and thighs. She had already seen enough. "Okay, decent now," Tony said. He coughed a few times, hoping to clear his throat, but the tickle in it just wasn't going away.

Wendy collected herself and said, in a pleasant tone that sounded slightly forced, "Senior believes in you, Tony. You know he always wants the best for you. He's spent time and money paving the way for you–" Tony waved a dismissive hand, but all that did was fire Wendy up again. "No, you listen to me. This is your chance to go places, to do good things, Tony. You're a shoo-in for another term, and at the end of it, you'll be in a perfect position to run for the Senate. Your father has been working very hard to set this up; he knows all the right people, the ones with influence. Look, I know that this kidnapping was a horrible, truly awful experience, but if any good is to come of it, now everyone in the country knows your face, and your Q Factor is 25, which is higher than its ever been."

"My what?" Tony asked, bemused.

Wendy continued, sounding like a politician giving a rousing speech, "This is the best time to step up and let people know you're not going anywhere, that this whole thing has made you stronger. You need to strike when the iron is hot, and make it known you have your eye on the White House and–"

"Are you kidding me?" Tony exclaimed, his voice cracking. "Is this what you two have been…" Tony shook his head and half-turned away, not wanting to even look at his wife. "No. I told you before, I'm seeing out this term, but that's it. I'm already in negotiations to buy back into SafeZone, and then–"

Wendy grabbed his arm. "You're a fool to give all this up just because you'd rather work with that Parker Prentice. And you'll be traveling so much, you won't have any time for Zack. I don't see why you want to go backwards, why you'd give up a career that people would kill for."

Trying to keep the lid sealed on his growing anger, and knowing his son had probably heard their raised voices by now, Tony gritted his teeth and said quietly, "First of all, Zack always comes first, so don't you ever say otherwise. Secondly, SafeZone was my company, and I worked damned hard to get it off the ground." Wendy's fingers were biting into his forearm, close to his injured wrist, so he carefully removed her hand.

"But you could be somebody important, Tony."

Tony snorted. "You know how I feel about this. I believe I can do more good on the outside. I want to help people, be out in the field, not spending all my energy sparring with politicians who seem to have lost sight of why they're there in the first place. Look, I…" The tickle in his throat caused him to cough, and the coughing jag that followed left Tony gasping for breath. Damn it, he had to hold back his temper; every time he raised his voice he started coughing. "I'm not…talking…about this," he managed to get out. Tony moved past Wendy, walked into the guest bedroom and sat down to pull on his socks.

Wendy followed him. She didn't know when to leave something alone.

Tony knew it was his father's expectation that he remain in politics, and to consider making a bid for the Presidency, but for once, he wasn't going to let his father dictate his career. No longer was he going to take the easy road and let the old man coerce him into doing 'what was right.' It was time for him to move on, Tony knew, and at the end of the year he'd say his goodbyes to his staff and the people in his district, and it would be without any regrets. Far from it; he'd done a good job, had accomplished things he was proud of, had made a difference in many people's lives. Crime and poverty weren't going away overnight, but he'd put some building blocks in place that should set Baltimore on the right road. Tony was confident that the changes he'd brought about would have a long-lasting, positive effect on his district, as well as on the city and state.

While Wendy continued arguing her case, Tony rummaged in the bag of medications that had been sent home with him, and found some throat lozenges. He popped one in his mouth, while Wendy said, "You know that both Senior and I believe you go could go all the way to the top, Tony, if only you'd put aside your silly dreams. Parker is a bad influence on you, not to mention he's taken up drinking heavily again, and he's a womanizer. All that money you plan to sink into the company should be going towards your campaign, not towards a company that focuses on security in other countries. I don't understand you…"

That much Tony knew. He spoke around the lemon-flavored lozenge that was already doing a good job at soothing his throat. "Well, you know what? I just happen to believe in SafeZone, and it's important to me. Besides, I don't see why you care whether I'm working in politics or in corporate security. Why do you even care what I do when we're going to be divorced in a few months? You have already revoked any right to have a say in my life."

For a moment, Wendy looked taken aback, but she collected herself, and said, "I will always care about you, and what you're doing with your career, Tony, and…well, I wasn't going to say this, but your dad is very worried about you."

"Yeah, right," Tony muttered as he pulled on a pair of boat shoes that had seen better days. "If you're worrying about money, don't. The company's doing better than ever, Parker says. He's backlogged with work." Tony still had to play out his term as his district's representative, but he had already had some long conversations with Parker about SafeZone, and their plans for expansion. As far as Wendy's accusations about Parker drinking and being a womanizer, hell, the guy had always been a drinker and he liked the ladies. So what? He was a hard worker and always lived life to the fullest, which was one of the reasons why he and Tony had always gotten along so well. "You don't have to worry about alimony," Tony said.

Wendy seemed affronted. "Of course that's not it. It's just that…well, your dad and I are worried about your health, of course, and after this…this kidnapping and the trauma you've been through, we…we think you may need some guidance to keep you on the right track. Your father has engaged the services of a top Washington PR firm and…they believe that it would be to your benefit if…perhaps…we should re-think about our decision to get divorced. See, I think it would be for the best if we remain married. Don't you agree, Tony?"

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~