Chapter Two

Back in Abby's lab after DiNozzo's departure, the team was glad for Gibbs' direction. "We need to find out about this 'deal' Senior is involved in. All Tony said is that it involved a hotel/casino Senior talked about for two months or so."

"I'll trace the money and search for any current contracts with Mr. DiNozzo's name on them," offered McGee.

Ziva added, "As soon as we know some of the other players in this investment are, I will find leverage points amongst them."

"Good. Senior's main contact in Saudi Arabia seems to be Prince Omar ibn Alwaar… 'Al'," Gibbs said with no small amount of sarcasm. "See if his investment company is the one that issued Senior's visa."

"Boss, how much should I…" Tim huffed out a breath. "I mean, Tony was just betrayed by someone he thought he could trust. Is it ok for me to snoop through his financials like this without his permission?"

Abby added on, "We don't want to make it worse Gibbs, but we have to do something, don't we? I mean Tony usually thinks it's his place to take care of us, even if he's waaay too nosy about it sometimes, and he doesn't even imagine anything back for it."

Seeing Tim's wide-eyed look, Ziva said, "Stealing our food does not count McGee."

Gibbs paused thoughtfully. "DiNozzo did something he may never have done before, by confiding the problem to us straight away. Maybe he did it just so you wouldn't find out by rumor, but I think he did it more for the right reason… he knows the family he can trust. He's placed his trust in us."

"Find out what you can McGee, leave the rest to me." Gibbs said. "Duck?"

As always, Ducky was able to interpret the Gibbsian request, in this case to describe the effects of this emotional upheaval in one Anthony DiNozzo, Jr. "We must do something which may prove somewhat impossible my friends. We must attempt to bolster Anthony's self confidence, usually a very healthy entity, without appearing to cosset, or heaven forbid, pity him in any way. Quite rationally, he has already anticipated his reaction to our desire to render aid..."

"Control?" murmured Palmer.

"Yes," immediately said Ziva, "he is forced to face what he has lost, both in blood family and financial security, so he controls what he has left."

Ducky cocked his head to the side briefly, "Definitely involved to be sure. His pride will make him excessively prickly about accepting what he interprets as charity, anything material especially. We must be creative if it comes to that. But no, I'm a bit more concerned with the hint of absolutism in his self-abasement. Anthony is a rather complicated fellow in his innermost workings; finding fault, carrying guilt, and punishing himself accordingly usually takes place with none of us being the wiser."

Seeing Gibb's raised eyebrow, Ducky amended, "Well, not apparent to most of us at any rate. But I am concerned this time may be very different. As long as nothing new arises… well, we must simply wait and see at this point."

Gibbs worried over the same issue, as he dismissed the assembly to get back to work pursuing what leads they could find and returning to cold cases when DiNozzo and Dorneget returned. Heading out on a coffee run, Gibbs was concerned at some point Tony would pull back to lick his wounds in private. And as usual he wouldn't reach out for help at that point no matter how bad it got inside that hard head of his.

Although he usually comes to me...

…I go to Gibb's house too often to talk about my freaking issues.

That night, Tony shook his head while sitting at his kitchen table, sighing at what passed for dinner tonight. I've got to make sure he knows I'm grateful, but not hang on him. With all this new drama, he's going to get tired of me being a needy idiot. And he's said he relies on me… means I've got to be reliable for crying out loud.

Besides now it might look like a freaking handout, showing up just in time for a great steak and potato dinner.

Looking at his bowl of white rice topped with leftover salsa he found in the back of the fridge… steak sounded unbelievably good right now. Note to self: Never make food that actually looks like vomit. Ever.

Struggling to eat the unappetizing meal, Tony agonized over telling Gibbs the latest phone conversation with his Dad, versus sucking it up like a man. What would John Wayne do?

Dumping the last half of his soggy red rice in the trash, Tony said to himself in disgust, "John Wayne would hurry up and sell something so he could buy a decent dinner." At least he'd already taken pictures of the TV and entertainment unit and posted them online to Craig's list, just waiting on a good offer now.

As Tony slouched into his cushy armchair, it didn't even occur to him there was no movie or music on. He spiraled deep inside his own head. Why did I even answer the phone? Can I be so stupid that I thought there was a chance he'd have a good explanation? That maybe he's calling to apologize? No, he was just calling to update me that there's been a slight snag, slight delay on the big payout. Like that's any big freaking surprise? And he wanted to make sure I wasn't taking things the wrong way, that this is practically a guaranteed investment as he had tried to tell me. What the fuck other way am I supposed to take his ripping me off? "Take you out to your favorite restaurant" my ass. "Investment" my ass. Calling me too dramatic "just like your Mother" pushed me too damn far. And the bastard hangs up on me in the middle of my telling him off because my language is "too abusive"? Fucking piece of…!

Blood pressure high and his face red, Tony watched the tremor in his hands for a moment, visualizing them around his father's throat briefly. How many times have I seen this as the origin of a crime? I thought I understood the motivation of "crimes of passion", but I had no idea. God, he wants to make it just about the money, but it's so freaking personal, that's what hurts. I've been trying so hard since I was twelve not to let him hurt me anymore. That's a big fat fail right now. It's like he took an axe to the heart of me and now I just want to hurt him back, but I have got to stop.

Have got to be reliable for Gibbs and the team. They're all you have left, don't let them down too just like you did Mom, just stop dammit.

Can't go down that road. You're whole career you're a good guy, remember? You know you'd regret actually choking the life out of... don't even think about that for God's sake, just stop this.

Just suck it up and stop this Anthony.

Just stop...

Just stop.

…

Silent hours passed. Glazed eyes wide open, blinking occasionally, staring past his hands.

A phone rang… reflex to hold it to his ear, "Agent DiNozzo? This is Dispatch, sorry to wake you sir."

"No problem, what have we got?" As she spoke in his ear, he looked at the clock. Is it really 04:00? What happened?

"I'll call the others, thanks Sandy."

The feeling there was an elephant in the room, hiding in his blind spot diminished as he sprang to action in a well practiced work routine.

Days of exhaustive non-stop work followed. The whole team struggled to find out why Senior Chief Petty Officer Wilkerson, Antisubmarine squadron U.S.S. George H.W. Bush fatally stabbed three shipmates and the resident NCIS Agent Afloat in a mess hall, before killing himself. The aircraft carrier was in-bound to her homeport of Norfolk after a long tour of duty. The team took a flight out and had completed the herculean task of interviewing every witness and contact of each of the five dead men just as the aircraft carrier reached sight of the mainland.

Although Wilkerson's superiors were immediately suspicious of PTSD being the cause, the interviews with his crewmates and friends did not support that theory. Tony noticed a breach of protocol in the initial on-board blood test and determined it had been tampered with, suggesting a more complicated situation. Tim eventually found a deleted poor performance review on a mirror backup server that threw suspicion upon one Petty Officer 1st Class Kyle Miller.

Miller, on being accused of drugging Wilkerson in order to maintain his record and receive an expected promotion, completely defied rational thought by panicking and running… while trapped on board a ship. Screaming behind him, "He wasn't supposed to kill anyone but himself! That wasn't supposed to happen!" Miller ran at top speed away from his pursuers.

Having been a restless resident on a Nimitz-class ship for many months, DiNozzo was more familiar with the corridor layout than his teammates. He managed to take a shortcut to get ahead of PO1 Miller and tackled him sideways, unfortunately into some open utility shelving. Breaking one shelf holding paint buckets, the last thing Tony saw was one bucket tumbling towards his head.