This is a transition chapter, but it's still full of angst. Thank you to all my loyal readers and those who have just joined the party! Your support is what keeps me inspired. Hope you enjoy the chapter. Thanks to AZGirl for her awesome beta job…any remaining mistakes are mine!

Part 18

Tony silently contemplated shoving Dr. Neal's stethoscope down his throat, but he knew to do so would insure him another day in the hospital and more than likely earn him a visit to the psych ward. Today was the day that he was supposed to get out of the hospital and go stay with Gibbs, but first he had to tolerate a so-called final examination without punching his physician in the face. He struggled to keep his emotions in check; Tony was determined not to show any pain or weakness. His body was taut as his eyes followed the doctor's every movement. There had been too many times in prison when the Hippocratic Oath didn't seem to pertain to him, making him extremely wary of the medical profession.

"You're blood pressure is still a bit on the high side," Dr. Neal observed.

He bit back the sharp retort on the end of his tongue, deciding to forgo the profanity running through his mind. "White coat syndrome," Tony coolly answered.

"Really?" the other man pressed.

"What else do you want me to say?"

"I'd like a little bit of honesty as to how you're feeling."

Tony shrugged. Did the good doctor already forget the fiasco of the other day? "I'm right as rain." He hoped that his icy tone provided Dr. Neal with a hint that he wasn't in the mood for small talk. "Can I leave?"

"I'd like for you to stay another day, but since Agent Gibbs has made arrangements for another doctor to take over your care, I guess my objection doesn't bear any weight. I'm going to prescribe an antibiotic and something for pain. The pain medicine also has a mild sedative that…"

He shook his head defiantly. "I'll take the antibiotic, but you can keep the other; I don't need it."

"I think you do," Neal countered. "You're a smart man. You know that pain will interfere with your recovery both physically and mentally; I'll make sure that it's a mild one; just enough to take the edge off."

Tony's eyes narrowed, his hardened gaze daring the doctor to continue down the path he was on; he didn't need to be reminded that he was on the edge of losing his sanity and he most certainly didn't need any kind of medication that would affect the tenuous control that Tony had over his emotions. "No," he firmly repeated.

"All right, I'll write the prescription but you don't have to fill it," the physician reasoned.

Either the doctor was aware of the fact that Tony was about to reach his emotional limit or he had decided that he simply didn't want to argue any longer. He mused that it was probably the latter; Dr. Neal more than likely wasn't too concerned about his mental well-being. Tony figured that the physician was probably thrilled that he would no longer be in his care. Truthfully, he couldn't blame the doctor; if he were in Dr. Neal's position, he would be ecstatic to get rid of such a troublesome patient as himself.

"Can I go now?" Tony asked. His patience was waxing thin and he wanted nothing more than for the doctor to leave him alone.

"Yeah, you can go. Agent Gibbs is waiting outside with your clothes. Want me to send him in?"

Tony didn't bother to hide his frustration and irritation with Dr. Neal; the man obviously had a gift for asking stupid questions. "Yeah, and I want you to leave," he growled.

He fought against the urge to literally wipe the smile off of the doctor's face. "Whether you believe it or not, Mr. DiNozzo; I'm trying to do what's best for you," Neal stated.

DiNozzo visibly bristled. He clenched his fist and pounded his mattress. "Who are you to tell me what's best for me? Just go!"

"If you need anything, you can…"

"I won't."

The doctor nodded and hastily left the room. Ignoring his body's protests, Tony sat up and shoved the sheet off of him. He studied his still swollen knee, muttering a curse under his breath for his obvious weakness; there wasn't any way that he could watch his back if he couldn't even walk. Taking a deep breath, he took his good arm and slowly began to carefully maneuver his legs off the side of the bed.

"Heard you were ready to get out of here."

Even though Tony wouldn't admit it out loud, he was almost glad to see Gibbs. The team leader was the only link to his freedom and he desperately was trying to cling to it with all that he had. Meeting Gibbs' piercing orbs, he finally to find his voice and answered, "Yeah. Been ready."

"I got your ride right here," Gibbs said, patting the back of the wheelchair he had pushed in the room. "I also brought you some clothes to change into," Gibbs said. "Soon as you're ready, we'll get out of here."

Gibbs laid the bag beside him and unzipped it. Tony reached inside and pulled out a blue button up shirt. It seemed silly that he found himself grateful that it wasn't orange; he really didn't care if he ever saw or wore that particular color again. Clutching it tightly, he quietly appreciated the softness of the material; it was nothing like the shirts that he had worn in prison. He then pulled out a pair of gray sweatpants and laid them on his lap as he wondered why the team leader had kept some of his clothes.

"Something wrong?" the older man asked.

Tony shook his head. "No, I just…I just can't figure out why you still have these."

"I packed up your clothes; I knew that you would need them some day."

"My suits?" He wasn't sure why he was even concerned about his designer suits; Tony really had no desire to wear them any longer. They represented a part of his life that no longer existed and he had no intention of trying to recreate his past.

"They're hanging in the closet in my spare bedroom, along with your other clothes."

At least he wouldn't have to go and buy a new wardrobe; of course, at the moment, he couldn't purchase anything. Tony didn't have any money and it didn't look like he would be getting any in the near future. His injuries would keep him tied to Gibbs' place for a couple of weeks, but he was going to have to figure out something. He couldn't rely on others to take care of him; the only person he completely trusted was himself and there were days that he wasn't sure that he could do that.

Unsure of what to say, Tony finally settled for, "Guess it's a good thing you thought ahead."

"I told you Tony; I never doubted your innocence," Gibbs reminded him.

Tony shrugged, wincing at the pain that the simple movement had caused him. He quickly schooled his features and slowly reached around his back to undo the tie of his hospital gown. A groan escaped his lips as every bruise that littered his body began screaming in unison, prompting Tony to silently curse those responsible for his latest injuries.

"I can help you with that."

He met the other man's concerned gaze, sensing nothing but genuineness in his offer. Tony wasn't used to having anyone offer to help him and he certainly wasn't used to accepting help from anyone. If he allowed Gibbs to assist him, then it would be a giant leap of faith on his part and he wasn't sure he was ready to take that jump. Then again, he really didn't have a choice. The dull ache resonating through his body and the fact that he had a cast on his wrist made normally easy tasks extremely daunting; Tony wasn't sure he could even lift his arms to slip on his shirt, much less put on his pants.

The younger man despised being dependent on anyone; even before his time in prison, he had done his best to keep his pain and weakness hidden from others. It was a trait that had served him well-up until now. To admit that he needed help was to allow Gibbs to see the pathetic man he had become; of course, the agent probably already realized that and would one day regret ever trying to help him.

Tony barely nodded, but it was enough for Gibbs, who proceeded to undo the back of his hospital gown. He visibly tensed at the other man's closeness, wondering if he had made the right choice to let the team leader help him. He clenched his fist and closed his eyes, silently willing his mind to escape to a safer place; unfortunately, his thoughts wouldn't cooperate as his unwanted memories began to return full force.

"Tony?" Gibbs called to him. "You okay?"

His eyes snapped open as he gasped for a breath. Swallowing hard, Tony forced those undesirable images back towards the dark recesses of his mind. "Just get it over with."

Moving swiftly and efficiently, Gibbs helped him maneuver his arms out of the gown and into his shirt. Tony couldn't look the silver haired man in the eyes; he didn't like the fact that he was too weak to perform the most basic task of getting dressed. He also didn't like the fact that Gibbs had seen the myriad of scars that covered his chest and back; although the Marine had yet to say anything, Tony knew that it was only a matter of time before the questions began to flow.

No longer able to tolerate the closeness of the other man, Tony pulled away from Gibbs and began buttoning his own shirt with his uninjured hand. "I've got it. Thanks."

Gibbs took a step back and watched Tony as he clumsily tried to manipulate the buttons. Determined, the former agent finally settled for getting three buttons in the correct holes. He stared at the pants that were still lying on his lap and wondered how he was supposed to get them on. Tony was sure that his throbbing knee was not going to support his weight and he wasn't prepared to ask for help again.

Thankfully, Gibbs seemed to be able to read his mind. "I'll get them started and then I'll stand you up and you can pull them up," the team leader offered.

Once again, Tony knew that his options were limited. He was having a difficult time controlling his urge to strike out defensively. "Okay," he whispered.

His eyes closely followed Gibbs' deliberate movements as the agent reached into the bag and pulled out a pair of boxers and his socks and shoes. Kneeling down in front of him, the Marine carefully put the socks on Tony's feet. The knowledge of what the Marine was about to do made him nauseous. Grabbing the edge of his mattress, he struggled against the urge to throw up while he once again wrestled against the memories of the past year.

Gibbs seemingly knew what was going through the younger man's mind as he stood up and waited for Tony to acknowledge him. "I'm not going to hurt you, Tony" he vowed. "Whenever you're ready."

He kept reminding himself that Gibbs then quickly and efficiently slipped on the younger man's boxers and sweatpants, pulling them up just above his injured knee. Tony was grateful that his gown still covered him from the waist down; the thin piece of material was the only thing that was preventing him from falling off that dangerous precipice he was teetering on.

"Doing okay?" Gibbs wanted to know.

Truthfully, Tony felt like he was in a whirlwind of anger, anxiety, and frustration, but he refused to acknowledge those emotions and simply replied, "Yeah."

He knew that Gibbs didn't believe him, but that didn't deter the man from wanting to help him. "I'm gonna put your shoes on and then I'll help you stand."

Tony nodded, inadvertently holding his breath as Gibbs finished putting his shoes on. Standing to his full height, the team leader situated the wheelchair in front of him and waited for him to make the first move. He slid forward and permitted Gibbs to assist him to a tenuous standing position. Keeping his weight off his bad knee, Tony had no idea how to keep the gown in place while managing to finish pulling up his pants, so he reluctantly allowed the gown to fall to the floor. Moving as swiftly as his aching body allowed, he pulled up his pants with his good hand while the Marine held on to his trembling frame. Gibbs then carefully helped him sit in the wheelchair and pulled up one of the leg rests in order to prop his knee up.

"There you go," Gibbs said. "Comfortable?"

"Yeah," Tony sighed. "Let's get out of here."

Gibbs pushed him out of the room and headed down the corridor towards the elevators. The fact that he was actually leaving the hospital and not returning to prison was mind boggling. Part of him still didn't believe he was going to be a free man; something was bound to go wrong and he would be right back behind bars. He knew that he should try and tamp down the negative thoughts, but undesirable memories and feelings were now a part of him and he doubted that he could ever change that.

He half listened as Dr. Neal gave the team leader his prescriptions and instructions. Tony really didn't care what the physician had to say; he still didn't have any intention of taking anything but an antibiotic. Ignoring the doctor's well wishes, he stared straight ahead as Gibbs pushed him down the hall. As the doors opened and the lead agent wheeled him in the lift car, Tony closed his eyes, mentally counting the seconds until he was out of the elevator and heading towards Gibbs' car. He blew out a slow breath as he absorbed the warmth of the sun. Freedom was within his grasp; however, Tony had no idea if he was going to be able to hold onto it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The ride home had been silent. Gibbs had never been one for small talk, but in the past, DiNozzo had always talked enough for both of them. Now, Tony's monosyllabic responses had all but quenched any hopes of a lengthy conversation. The Marine never thought that he would miss the incessant chatter, but now, he would give anything to hear DiNozzo spout a couple of movie references. He could only hope that one day, things would return to some semblance of normal, not just for Tony, but for everyone.

It had been an hour since they had arrived at his house; it had taken nearly half that time to get Tony inside and settled on his couch. Gibbs knew that Tony was in a great deal of pain but the team leader was also aware of the fact that DiNozzo wouldn't take any medication to alleviate his discomfort; he hoped that his friend would eventually be open to taking something over the counter. Thankfully, the young man had fallen asleep from pure exhaustion and now Gibbs was in the kitchen fixing a pot of coffee, waiting for Ducky to arrive.

He wondered how Tony was going to accept Ducky's constant presence. The Scotsman had a way of putting people at ease; he just hoped that Ducky could work his magic on DiNozzo and that the injured man would allow the ME to help him. Tony was completely on edge and his ability to trust had been shattered; both he and Ducky would have to use a great deal of caution as they tried to help Tony rebuild his life.

Gibbs took a sip of his coffee as he sat down at his table. He began sorting through his mail but soon found his eyes drifting towards the sleeping man on his couch. Even asleep, Tony seemed to be guarded; his face was drawn as he struggled with demons that Gibbs could only imagine. The team leader had seen and experienced a great deal in his life, including losing his family; that was an emotional and physical pain that couldn't be described. However, he couldn't begin to comprehend having his freedom taken away so abruptly and spending a year in prison; Tony had lost everything during that time, except for a few close friends and even those he had kept at a distance.

He watched the uneven rise and fall of Tony's chest, wondering if he had made the right choice to take DiNozzo out of the hospital. Tony could barely sit up and it was obvious that he was feeling every bruise that littered his body; the only consolation that he had was that at least DiNozzo felt safe enough to close his eyes. Gibbs silently contemplated the scars that he had seen when he had been helping Tony. The pale stripes that crisscrossed his torso were evidence of more than one knife fight. There were some scars that he couldn't identify, but he easily recognized the ones caused by cigarettes. He'd read Tony's medical files from prison; they were obviously incomplete and Gibbs wondered if he would ever know the whole story of how Tony received some of those wounds. Truthfully, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

The sound of the door opening forced his thoughts back to the present. Tony sat up, gasping as he was reminded of his aching ribs. His expression betrayed his uncertainty and his anxiety; the little bit of sleep that DiNozzo had managed to get did very little to soothe his frazzled nerves. Gibbs gestured for him to stay put. "It's all right," he reassured Tony. "It's just Ducky."

Gibbs rose to meet the ME, Tony's eyes following his every movement. "Hey, Duck," he quietly greeted. "Come on in."

He took Ducky's hat and coat as the older man carefully approached Tony. Now was the moment of truth; it was time to see how DiNozzo was going to react to his longtime friend. The two men used to be able to sit and talk for hours about absolutely nothing; Gibbs had a feeling that this conversation was going to be rather one sided.

"Hello, Anthony," Ducky said.

Tony cleared his throat and replied, "Ducky."

"It's good to see you."

The team leader watched as Tony sat up straighter. Gibbs realized that DiNozzo was going on the defensive; he didn't want to be caught off guard, even if he was surrounded by friends. The knot in the agent's gut pulled tighter. Doubts began to resurface in his mind; despite the fact that Tony had agreed to let Ducky take over his medical care, Gibbs wondered if he should have waited a day or so before allowing the two of them to meet face to face.

He had to give Ducky credit; the doctor was making sure that he wasn't perceived as a threat by Tony. "Do you mind if I sit down in this chair?" the ME asked.

Tony shrugged. "It's not my house."

Gibbs and Ducky exchanged a worried glance. The Marine motioned for the doctor to sit. "Want some coffee, Duck?" he asked, trying to break the uncomfortable silence in the room.

"Now, Jethro, you know that I do not drink that swill; but I will have some tea." The lead agent rolled his eyes as he turned to go towards the kitchen, hoping that Ducky didn't delve into the benefits of hot tea versus coffee.

"I'll have some coffee," Tony rasped.

He was taken by surprise by Tony's request. With just a couple of exceptions, this was the first time that Tony had actually asked for something for himself. Usually his requests involved leaving him alone, but this was personal and for a moment, Gibbs felt a glimmer of hope. "Still want that crap you call creamer?"

"If you got it."

"Coming up."

Gibbs went to the kitchen and put the water on for Ducky's tea. He glanced in the living room to see Ducky softly talking to Tony. DiNozzo seemed to be listening even though he had yet to offer any kind of response. The former agent wouldn't talk until he was ready, but at least he was listening. Gibbs wanted to hear what the ME was saying to him, but he allowed them some privacy. He was sure that Ducky would fill him in later, but until then, he would wait and make Tony the best cup of coffee that he'd ever had.