CHAPTER 7

Immediately Tony stood and said, "No."

Wendy protested, "But Tony…"

He shook his head in disbelief. After everything Wendy had said and done, after everything she had put him through? "No! You cannot be serious."

"Tony? Let's be sensible about this. Why not stay married? I know it won't be easy, and we have certain trust issues, but I'm certain we can act like adults and…It's not like we have to live together 24/7. I'm working here, and you're in DC a lot."

"We have trust issues? I'm not the one who forgot our wedding vows, Wendy! I'm not the one who…" Tony backed away, hands raised. "You know what? I'm not doing this. I'm not."

"But Tony…think of Zachary."

"Do not use Zack as a bargaining tool. Do not! I think of my son all the time, of his safety and welfare. All I want is for him to be happy."

Spitefully, Wendy said, "You think he cares about a dad who's hardly ever here? He'll forget you and–"

"You know damned well I spend every free moment I have with my boy," Tony retorted angrily. He coughed a couple of times, but he kept on talking. This had to be dealt with now. "I know exactly what it feels like to have a father who's absent, or abandons him because something more important comes up, or who just doesn't care. I know, and I will never make my son feel like that." Tony grabbed Wendy's arm and said in a low, dangerous tone, "And if I catch you ever saying anything negative about me to him…"

Wendy stared at Tony with wide eyes for a long moment, then she shook him off and glared at him. "Is that a threat?"

"You know what? It is. Yes, it is. So I advise you to take it seriously," Tony said, his voice getting more hoarse every time he opened his mouth. "I'm going downstairs to have dinner with my son, and I would prefer it if you're not there," he said, making it clear he was finished with the conversation.

It took Wendy a moment to respond, but when she did so, her voice was a little strained. "I'm going to the office to pick up work to take with me. You can have him to yourself. There's a pizza…Just make sure you cover up all those bruises. I don't want Zachary to see…what that man did to you." Wendy started to leave but stopped in the doorway. "You be careful what you say to him, Tony. I don't want my son to know what happened to you. I've done my best to shield him from everything, but children talk and he knows something's wrong. You make sure this is all done with by the time we get back from my parents' next weekend."

Tony held his tongue as Wendy walked out, closing the door firmly behind her. As soon as she was gone, he let out a tired sigh. Every time he came by the house, even if it was only for a few minutes, to pick up Zack, she managed to get in a few digs. It seemed as though she couldn't resist yanking his chain, and was only satisfied when she made him angry. Tony tried not to fight back, but even after all this time, he was not inured to her barbs.

Tony sighed and ran a hand over his mouth. He wasn't feeling too good. All he wanted to do was fall back into bed, but he needed to see his son, spend some time with him. Besides, he really needed to eat something before he took his next round of medications.

It was hard to believe that once upon a time they'd loved each other, he and Wendy. They had planned out their life together, had brought a child into this world, had stuck together for twelve years. It was even harder to believe, considering everything they'd meant to each other, that she would ruin it by having an affair with her boss. Even after he'd found out about it, Tony had tried to hold their marriage together, but things between them had gone from bad to worse when he'd discovered that after he'd taken her back, she'd seen her lover again. There had been recriminations, tears and promises, and more promises, and at the end of the day he'd taken her back.

That was two years ago, and since then Tony had done his best to act the part of a good husband, at least to the outside world. But over time, he'd come to realize that their sham marriage wouldn't work, and that the pretense was making them hate each other, a bit more with every passing week. He had finally had enough, and told Wendy he was filing for divorce. It would become final at the end of the year, just as his term in Congress was up.

She had fought him on it, had called in his father, thinking that Senior would be able to influence him into changing his mind. But not even Senior's subtle bullying overlaid with guilt-trip tactics had been able to sway Tony. He was done, and he had told them so.

Once again, Tony sighed. No point in crying over it any more. Whatever they'd had together, it was over, and any semblance of affection or loyalty was long-since gone. As Tony walked down to the kitchen, he thought only good thoughts, about his son, and how much he'd grown lately, how he was showing an interest in earth science, how he was doing well in soccer and pole-vaulting, and how, when Tony had looked in on his sleeping son the last time he'd seen him, he'd smiled at the copy of Robinson Crusoe lying next to him on the bed.

In a couple of weeks, Tony would be spending a long weekend with his son. They would plan something special to do together. "Just us guys," Tony had said, when they had talked, unbelievably happy to see his son's eyes light up in anticipation of having alone-time with his dad.

It struck Tony that Wendy had not even asked him how he was feeling, even though she had exclaimed over his injuries. Whatever he'd once felt for her was now gone, not an inkling of affection remaining, and despite him being angry when they'd been talking, now he felt nothing but sadness at the whole situation. Mostly, he was sad for his son, who had yet to be told, who would go through stages of distress and resentment, and who might even hate his parents for divorcing each other. Tony knew what it felt like to be abandoned by a parent, and even though his young mind had understood that it wasn't his mother's fault that she got sick and went to live with the angels, he'd been consumed by grief because she hadn't loved him enough to stay behind.

Tony took a breath, put on a pleasant expression, and walked into the kitchen. Zack was sitting at the table with an open pizza box in front of him.

Zack looked up, his blue eyes lighting up. "Dad!" He was out of his chair and in his dad's arms before Tony could even say hello.

There was an elbow digging in his stomach, and small arms pulling on his bruised neck, but Tony didn't care a hang. Hell, he'd put up with any amount of pain if it meant he'd get such an all-out, loving embrace from his boy.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

"Mom's gone to work," Zack told his father as soon as he released him. "We've got cheese and pepperoni!"

That was fine by Tony, both having a pizza for dinner, and Wendy leaving them alone. "Great, that means you're in charge," Tony said to his son.

Unfortunately, the minute they sat opposite each other at the table, the boy took in his father's bruises. Tony knew that his black eye looked pretty bad, but there was no good way to explain how he got it to a ten-year-old. "You know, in the movies, when a boxer gets a black eye in the ring, he puts a raw steak on his eye, to help it heal."

Zack's eyes went to the fridge. "Do we have steak?"

Tony chuckled. "No, and I wouldn't waste one on my eye anyway. It's the cold that makes it feel better, like an ice pack. Remember when you bashed your fingers between the shopping carts and the lady at the fish counter gave you a baggie full of ice? It made your fingers feel better, right?"

Zack immediately jumped up and went to the fridge. "I can get you an ice pack, Dad."

Tony watched his son dump some ice cubes in a baggie, and twist a tie around it. "Tie it tight so the water doesn't spill out when the ice melts," Tony suggested, letting Zack do it himself. Tony took the bag of ice and held it to his eye. He made sure to thank Zack, and smiled to let him know it felt better.

They ate a slice of pizza each, but Tony could see the worry creeping back into his son's eyes.

"Did you go boxing?" Zack asked, eyeing the bruises on Tony's neck.

"No, although your old man has been known to do a round or two in the ring. Not this time, though." Tony carefully chose his words. The truth was hard to speak, but he managed not to mess it up too badly. "Daddy got hurt by a bad man," he said, hating that Zack was looking at him with wide, fearful eyes. "But a good guy helped me out, took me into his own home, and saved me."

"Was the good guy a cop?" Zack knew all about Tony's days as a police detective, and Tony had taken him to an open house at the local stationhouse, so he thought of cops as the good guys.

"Yeah, Jethro's a good guy."

"His name is Jethro? Jethro Bodine?"

Tony laughed a little. "No, not the Hillbillies, though this Jethro does live on a farm. He takes care of horses who don't have any homes."

Zack remembered they were talking about a bad guy, and that scared expression came back. "Is he coming here?"

For a second, Tony thought his son meant Jethro. "Oh, no. No, nobody is coming here. See, Jethro took care of the bad guy, and he won't be going anywhere." Tony was sweating, not sure how much of this Zack was understanding. He held the ice pack to his eye for a bit, and then put it aside with a sigh.

The boy watched him for a bit, then asked, "Is the bad guy in jail?"

Tony cleared his throat. Of course vague explanations weren't going to be enough; Zack wanted to know more details. "Yeah, he's in jail. He won't ever be getting out. So I want you to remember that Dad and Mom love you very much, and we're here to protect you, okay?"

"Grandpa Tony, too?"

"Yes, Grandpa Tony will protect you, too, although he doesn't like being called Grandpa." Tony took another slice and pushed the box closer to Zack. "More?"

Zack bit into his pizza and as soon as he swallowed his mouthful, he smiled. "Grandpa wanted me to call him Tony, but I told him my dad's the only Tony."

"I'll bet that went over well," Tony muttered under his breath. He wiped his mouth and then handed his son a few paper napkins. After they'd both cleaned up, Tony suggested, "How about we go watch a movie?" Thank God the conversation was over, he thought.

Zack hopped out of his chair and stood right in front of Tony, crowding him so he couldn't get to his feet. "Dad?"

Tony ran a hand over his son's back, thinking how close he'd come to never seeing Zack again, and it almost brought him to tears. "Yeah?"

It took Zack a moment to figure out what he wanted to say, and Tony waited patiently. "Dad? Why's your voice funny?"

Touching his throat, Tony swallowed. "It'll be as good as new real soon." He couldn't tell his kid that a mentally ill man had had him in a chokehold, and would have killed him if Jethro hadn't stepped in.

Zack reached out, frowning, and gently touched his father's neck. "Does it hurt?" he asked in a small voice.

Tony smiled. "No, it is just a flesh wound," he said in a British accent.

Zack pulled a face. "Mom says you deflect when you're nervous, by talking about movies and doing dialog."

That floored Tony. Was he that obvious? "Oh. Well, yeah, guess Mom's right. It lightens the mood. Sometimes I can't figure out what to say, and so I pick a line out of a movie, or talk about a plot or–"

"You don't have to do that with me, Dad."

"I don't?"

Zack shook his head. "It's not that I don't like talking movies with you, Dad, but maybe sometimes we can just talk, about real things and not movies. I'm not a little kid any more, you know."

Tony took Zack's small hand in his own. "Wow, I guess you're not. I'm sorry if I…uh…deflected. I'll try not to do that any more, but if I do, I'll need you to remind me about it, okay?"

Zack nodded solemnly. "I know you do it because you love me, and you don't want me to know some things, because you don't want me to get hurt. But I'm not stupid, and…and I've heard you and Mom talking. You're loud."

Tony's heart sank. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. We never want to say mean things to each other, but sometimes…"

"Dad, are you and Mom getting a divorce?"

For once in his life, Tony was rendered mute. His kid, his ten-year-old kid, was calmly asking I his parents were splitting up. Did Zack even know what a divorce meant, what it really entailed? How could he explain it to the boy when he was having trouble understanding it all himself? "Son…" Tony's mouth was so dry he couldn't get out any more words.

Of all things, Zack smiled. "It's okay, Dad. Not that you're getting a divorce, but that you don't know what to say. I know about it, what it means."

Was the kid a mind reader or something? "You do?"

"Grandpa Tony, he's been married twice and divorced twice that I remember, and you've said he's been married lots of times, so I guess that means lots of divorces. He gets really sad whenever anyone talks about being married, and he drinks a lot, even though he covers it up by chewing on Menthos." Zack shrugged. "Then he gets back on the horse."

"The horse?"

"Sure, like when you've been thrown, you're supposed to not be afraid, and you try again. Like in Alice in Wonderland. "Just be brave, and always get back on your horse.' Right?" The boy nodded sagely. "He's pretty good at getting back on the horse. Must be all the experience."

"Oh my God, please do not repeat that to anyone," Tony pled, hugging Zack to him, and then releasing him so he could look in his eyes. "Look, Zack, just because my father…Grandpa Tony…gets married every couple of years like it's some kind of Olympic sport, and he's a gold medalist like Mark Spitz, and have you ever seen him do the butterfly–"

"Dad, you're babbling," Zack warned.

"Okay…okay…" Tony coughed a couple of times and reached for a cough drop.

Zack asked, "Who's Mark Spitz?"

"He won lots of gold medals, and is a nine-time Olympic champion in swimming in the '70s. Tell you what, son, we'll have a 'highlights of the Olympics' evening real soon, but right now we need to focus." Tony took a moment before saying, "There are lots of couples who stay together their whole lives. Some of them though, they try really hard but they grow apart…they can't seem to get along any more…But no matter what happens, or where Mom and Dad live, we will always love you and take care of you. Do you understand what I'm saying?" Tony asked, worried it was going over Zack's head.

Zack nodded slowly. "It's like with Jeremy. I liked him a lot when I was in second grade. We did everything together. Sports, sleepovers, building a cardboard city for his cat…But when I started third grade, it was like the magic had gone. I didn't play with Jeremy any more. I played with Albert. We did karate together, and were on the same baseball team, and traded Lord of the Rings action figures." Zack picked up the large soda cup Tony had refilled with water to take with them down to the rec room. When he had finished drinking, Zack turned to his father and said seriously, "You know, the Power Rangers say that magic is never gone. You just have to know where to look for it. Oh, and to not be afraid of moving on to something new."

Smiling in wonder, Tony asked, "How'd you get to be so smart?"

Zack shrugged. "Probably because I'm a DiNozzo. It's in the genes. C'mon, let's go watch a movie. I choose! I choose!" He ran from the room, and Tony took a few minutes to clean up their dinner, and to collect himself.

Halfway through the 1938 version of Robin Hood, in a scene when Errol Flynn was making what Zack called 'goo-goo eyes' at Maid Marian, Zack asked, "Am I going to live here with Mom?" Before Toy could respond, the boy looked up at him and added, "Because I think she'd be really lonely without me, and even though she says she likes to work, she likes being home, too, so long as I'm here."

"Then that sounds like a plan," Tony replied. "Things will stay pretty much the same. Okay?"

"Okay." After a few minutes of watching Robin Hood sword fighting with Guy of Gisbourne, Zack commented, "I know we're supposed to hate Gisbourne, but I think he's cool."

"He's a great swordsman," Tony agreed.

"But he's the bad guy," Zack replied, his eyes glued to the screen.

"True, but did you know that that actor, whose name is Basil Rathbone, played Sherlock Holmes in fourteen movies?"

After a minute, Zack said, "He's a good actor then."

"Yes, he is." Tony kissed the top of his son's head, noticing how his blond hair was turning darker. His little boy was growing up; it was sort of sad to think about. "I love you, kid."

"Mmm." Zack cuddled up to his father with a contented sigh, and soon both he and Tony were fast asleep.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

Wendy and Zack left for her parents' place in Pennsylvania early the next morning, and Tony barely had time to kiss his son good-bye before the FBI agents in charge of their safety whisked them away in a big black sedan.

Tony gathered his belongings, including a leather jacket that had seen better days, a couple of awards from his days on the force that he'd thought Wendy had thrown away ages ago, his favorite leather shoulder holster that had taken months to break in, and a few other items Wendy had tossed in a corner of the basement. He locked the house behind him and turned to FBI Agent Jerome Brown, who was the primary on his protection detail. "Ready to roll, Agent Brown?"

"I will be, once you get in the vehicle, sir." Brown scanned the peaceful neighborhood, eying a slow-moving Subaru carrying a mother and noisy kids as if it contained the enemy.

Tony gave the folks in the passing vehicle a wave. "You worried about something, agent? Ninja assassins, zombie killers, or maybe soccer moms?"

"They don't bother me, except for the soccer moms," Brown said with a straight face.

"How about masked slashers? Killer clowns?"

"How about you get in the car, Congressman, and then we can talk about my deepest fears?"

"Really?" Tony assented and slipped into the back seat. As soon as they pulled away from the curb, he demanded, "Well?"

Brown made a face as if he were thinking hard. "I'd have to say that the scariest things were those silent ghouls on Buffy. You know, the ones who stole their victims' voices… 'The Gentlemen,' right?"

"That was the episode where they couldn't scream. It was called Hush. A classic, got an Emmy," Tony agreed with a smile. He covered his mouth to cough, then leaned forward to ask, "So tell me, Agent Brown… Can I call you Jerome? Who do you think is a real killer at heart, Angel or Spike? Is it a case of nurture or nature, do you think?"

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~