Buckle up! It's a roller coaster of a chapter! Lots of emotional angst, tortured memories, and a few other goodies! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I appreciate your patience and loyalty and hope that it's worth the wait. I'm honored by the continued alerts and reviews to this story. Thank you so much!

Part 19

Tony silently cursed the awkwardness of the cast on his wrist as he attempted to hold the steaming cup of coffee between his hands. Gingerly taking a sip of the brew, he tried to avoid looking at Ducky or Gibbs, both of who were seemingly waiting for him to make a move. Ever since the ME's arrival, Tony had felt like he was being evaluated not just physically, but mentally as well. He had agreed to permit Ducky to assume the responsibility of his care, but the injured man wasn't prepared to have his thoughts and feelings dissected.

He carefully placed the cup on the table in front of him and then leaned back against the cushion. Tony was in pain, but it was bearable; he had to remain in control if he was going to be able to stay focused enough to dodge Ducky's probing questions. The ME would probably put every action and every word under a microscope to find out what was going through his mind. Tony honestly wished he could share the memories and images that haunted him, but they were a burden he was obviously meant to carry alone.

For the last few minutes, he'd been half listening to Ducky as the Scotsman tried to engage him in small talk; there had been a time when he would have enjoyed soaking up the older man's volumes of what others deemed as useless knowledge. However, right now, he would have been just as satisfied if Ducky and Gibbs left, leaving him alone so that he could come up with a plan for the future.

Tony also knew that it would be a long time before he was truly alone; he wasn't sure how long he could handle the constant scrutiny and well-meaning platitudes from his friends.

Friends. That was a word that he used sparingly. Tony really wasn't sure exactly how many friends he had left, but he knew that two of them were sitting across from him. He also had no idea why they would still want to be his friend; he wasn't the same Tony DiNozzo and it seemed like they couldn't accept that fact. Both Gibbs and Ducky seemed determined to force him back in the mold of the perfect agent, but that image had been shattered by the harsh reality of prison. He was a different man, his heart calloused by the experiences that he had endured and would take to his grave.

"Anthony?"

He forced himself to meet Ducky's concerned glaze. "Yeah?"

"Did you hear my question?"

"No," he sighed. "Sorry. Guess I drifted off."

"That's quite understandable; you must be exhausted. Are you in much pain?"

"No," he lied. Truth was, he did hurt, but he didn't want to be drugged. At the moment, control was at the essence of his being and Tony couldn't afford to lose the last miniscule piece of his soul. "I'm fine, Ducky."

"Anthony, you can let your guard down long enough to…"

Tony stared at the ME, masking his disbelief at the naivety of Ducky and his statement. There was no way in hell that he could let down his guard; not now, not ever. It didn't matter that he was among friends; the young man couldn't afford to display even the slightest hint of trust towards anyone, including Gibbs and Ducky. He was aware that he was condemning himself to a lonely existence once his name was officially cleared, but Tony was beginning to like the idea of becoming a hermit.

"Did I say something wrong?" the doctor asked.

He blew out the breath he'd inadvertently been holding. Tony realized that Ducky had only wanted to help and he certainly couldn't fault the physician for trying to lift his spirits. "No," he finally replied. "I think I'd like to rest now." Even though he wouldn't sleep, resting would provide him an excuse to avoid the strained conversation that had been taking place the last hour or so.

"Certainly," Ducky conceded. "Rest is just what the doctor ordered. Perhaps later, you will permit me to change your bandages."

Tony didn't want anyone else seeing his scars, but his freedom required him to submit to Ducky's ministrations. He gave a slight nod and then slowly and carefully, swung his legs upon the couch and lay down. His body tensed as Ducky stood over him and started to cover him with an afghan. Tony's good hand shot up and grabbed the elderly man's wrist.

"It's all right, Anthony," the ME assured him. "It's a bit chilly in here; Gibbs doesn't believe in heat."

The doctor was trying to alleviate the tension with a small joke at the team leader's expense, but Tony failed to see the humor. "I can do it," he quietly insisted.

Releasing Ducky's wrist, he took the blanket and with some effort, covered his aching body. Closing his eyes, he found himself hoping that Gibbs and Ducky would take the hint and leave him alone. He wasn't ready to talk and he certainly wasn't in the mood to sit around and dance around the awkward silence in the room. Tony wondered if there was always going to be that stigma of uncertainty and fear whenever he was in a room. The looks of pity and the unnerving silence were almost as difficult to deal with as the nightmares that constantly plagued him—the key word being almost.

The memories of the humiliation and pain that he had endured were forever etched into his mind. Even in his waking hours, those horrid images never truly went away, but at least Tony felt that he could maintain a tighter grasp on them. He despised himself for the control that his memories had over him, but in order to release those demons, Tony would have to confront them and he couldn't do that until he was completely alone. The sooner he could get out from under Gibbs' watchful eye, the sooner he could begin figuring out how to cram all those memories into a box and throw away the key, providing there was a box big enough to contain them.

He heard Gibbs and Ducky head into the kitchen, prompting him to open his eyes and stare at the ceiling. Tony knew that he wouldn't be able to hold out against the exhaustion that was seeping into every fiber of his being. He realized the he was safer than he had been in a year and therefore, he should take advantage of the opportunity to sleep; however, Tony knew that it was going to be a long time before he truly believed it.

As Tony's eyes began to close, he found himself wondering if perhaps Gibbs or Ducky had slipped something in his coffee to make him sleep. Surely they wouldn't risk shattering what little trust he had placed in them just to get him to rest; if he had actually thought that was the case, he would have walked out the door of Gibbs' home and taken his chances on the streets. Gibbs promised that he had Tony's six; he just hoped the team leader could keep his word.

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Gibbs poured himself another cup of coffee before heading towards the door that led to his basement. He figured that if Tony was going to sleep, it would probably be a lot easier to do so without an audience. Motioning for Ducky to follow him, the two men quietly went downstairs. The Marine left the door slightly cracked so he could hear Tony just in case he needed anything; of course, that was providing that DiNozzo even asked for help.

Leaning against his workbench, he stared at the frame of the boat in front of him. This particular project had been abandoned after Tony had been sentenced; trying to prove DiNozzo's innocence had taken priority and had consumed every moment that he was not working a case. Gibbs had lost his desire to work on his boat, but now the urge was returning; he had a feeling that he was going to need this refuge in the future days. Once DiNozzo was officially cleared, he would have to face the monumental task of helping Tony rebuild his life. If today was any indication, the agent was going to have his work cut out for him.

"So, Duck," he sighed. "What do you think?"

The ME didn't have to guess as to what he was talking about. "I think that Anthony has a long road ahead of him. He's scared."

Gibbs nodded in agreement. Tony was definitely scared, but then again, so was he. The lead agent was terrified that he would screw up and DiNozzo would end up paying the price. He felt like he was walking on eggshells around the younger man, which was something that he wasn't used to doing. His ability to read his former senior agent seemed distorted by the man that Tony had been forced to become.

"Can't blame him," Gibbs pointed out.

Ducky sat down on one of the sawhorses and crossed his arms; his eyes betraying a mixture of worry and sympathy for the injured man upstairs. "He's been through quite the traumatic experience this past year. I don't think either of us could begin to understand everything that he has endured."

"I've read his medical files and the other reports from the prison; you probably should take a look at them," he suggested.

"Are you sure that Tony would be all right with that?"

"No, but he's not going to tell you anything and you're responsible for his medical care now; you need to know what you're dealing with."

"I agree, but…"

"Duck, please."

Gibbs didn't want to admit that part of the reason that he wanted the physician to read the files was so that he wouldn't be alone in his knowledge regarding what had happened to Tony; perhaps Ducky would be able to come up with a better way to approach DiNozzo and help him conquer the demons that were haunting him.

"All right, Jethro. I'll do it, but you have to make Anthony aware of what I am doing," Ducky warned. "We can't take, actually, let me rephrase that. You can't take the chance on breaking what little trust he has managed to salvage; honesty is the best policy."

He knew that the ME was right. Tony's trust was fragile and it wouldn't take much to shatter it. "All right," the team leader conceded.

Truthfully, making sure that Ducky was aware of DiNozzo's medical history was the least of his problems. There were so many things that needed to be done regarding Tony's future that he had no idea where to begin. Although there wasn't much he could do until Tony was officially cleared, he could at least set the proverbial ball in motion.

"I guess I need to figure out where to go from here," he mused. "All he's got right now is what's in that corner over there." Gibbs had boxed up Tony's possessions and placed them in storage; his clothes were upstairs in the guest room. "Thought about maybe taking up his movies, just in case he felt like watching them."

"I think that's a good idea. It might provide him with a much needed distraction," Ducky reasoned.

Their conversation was interrupted by the ringing of Gibbs' cell phone. Glancing at the caller ID, he recognized the number of Tony's attorney. "Gibbs," he answered. The team leader listened intently as she informed him that the judge wanted to see DiNozzo; it seemed like she had been pushing the paperwork through, trying to get an audience with the court.

"Does he really have to be there?" Gibbs wasn't sure how Tony was going to handle what was probably going to be a media circus. After a brief pause, he muttered, "I'll see what I can do."

Hanging up his phone, he threw it on his workbench. "That was Tony's lawyer; she's already got him a date in court."

"Is that bad?" Ducky asked.

"I don't know. I guess we'll see." Gibbs had no idea how Tony was going to react to the fact that he had to go back to court so soon. DiNozzo no longer enjoyed being around people and he certainly didn't want any extra attention drawn to him; however, this was a necessary step to guarantee his freedom, which would allow Tony to get on with his life.

"I have to check his bandages; I'll be happy to hang around and offer my moral support when you tell him."

Gibbs took a sip of his coffee. "We'll play it by ear. For now, we'll leave him alone. Give him some space."

Picking up two pieces of sandpaper, he handed one to Ducky. "It's good therapy," he explained. As the two men began working on his boat, smoothing the rough areas on the wood, the Marine half listened as the ME began to recall one of his numerous adventures. His mind was racing as possible scenarios formed in his head as to how Tony was going to react to the news that he was supposed to go back to court when the companionable silence was suddenly shattered by a heart wrenching scream.

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Tony wasn't sure how much longer he was going to be able to stay conscious; he would normally welcome the dark void that sleep provided, but to do so now, would guarantee his death, if not something worse. The young man no longer had any concept of time; he'd been handcuffed to the chair in his cell for so long that the hours had morphed into one seemingly unending day. However, Tony was very much aware of the fact that he was in his current predicament because he was a former cop. Because of this, he had been placed in solitary, but that hadn't guaranteed his safety; to the contrary, it had made him even more susceptible to the beatings and whatever other torments that the guards or inmates could conjure.

This particular time, he had been overpowered on his way back from recreation, forced into his cell and handcuffed to a chair. Banks and several of the guards had been taking turns delivering blows to his torso and face; Tony was pretty sure that he had felt a couple of ribs break from under the strain. His wrist and hands were bleeding from his struggles against the restraints keeping him securely fastened to the chair. He had been gagged to keep from calling out to anyone, but it didn't keep him from crying out in pain.

Just when he had thought that they were through, they had begun using a taser on him; Tony could hear their laughter as he writhed in agony. Banks truly enjoyed this form of torture and had exercised that option numerous times. His nerves were on fire, his limbs twitching mercilessly from the repeated volts of electricity coursing through his body. He was almost grateful when they discarded their tasers and returned to using him as a human punching bag.

His left eye was swollen shut and he couldn't feel the right side of his face. He groaned as the gag was forcibly removed; Tony ran his tongue over his teeth to make sure that they were still intact. His head was jerked back roughly and he felt Banks' rancid breath on his neck.

"Want us to stop?" the guard taunted.

Tony swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. After a few seconds, he managed to speak; his voice was hoarse from the muffled screams that had been coerced from his throat by the guards' brutality. He wanted them to stop, but he wasn't about to beg; Tony still had some pride, but he knew that bit by bit, that was being stripped from him as well.

"Figure…you'd have…better…things…t…to do," he rasped.

"Not really," Banks said. "We've been instructed to make sure that you know who's in charge. It seems you have a problem with authority and following the rules."

"There's only one man's rules…that I follow…and you aren't him."

He winced as his tormentor wound his hair between his fingers, making Tony wish that he should rethink the decision to let his hair grow. "We know all about Gibbs and his stupid rules," the crooked guard exclaimed. "Unfortunately for you, he's not here."

If he had been more cognizant, the hurting man would have thought to ask exactly how Banks knew about Gibbs' rules. Right now, it didn't matter; all his energy was focused on staying conscious and more importantly alive. One of these days, he had a feeling that he would welcome death, but this wasn't that day. "I guess…that means…that it's fortunate for you…that he's not here," Tony pointed out.

"You really think Gibbs will get you out of here?" the guard seethed. "If you get out of here it will be in a body bag!"

Even though he had no idea how he still had any saliva, Tony managed to spit in Banks' face. He was actually surprised that he had any fight left in him, and although that infamous DiNozzo stubbornness had kept him alive so far, it was probably going to get him killed. Unfortunately, his attempt at defiance was met with vicious backhand. He could feel the blood trickling down his chin, but at least he could briefly relish in his small victory.

"You will learn respect!" Banks roared. "I own you, DiNozzo. You're mine to do with as I please!"

"I don't…think so," the hurting man gasped. "Nobody…owns me."

"We'll see about that."

Tony could barely see what Banks was doing, but he knew that it couldn't be good; one of these days, he was going to learn to keep his mouth shut. He tensed as the other two guards, Frick and Frack, as Tony liked to refer to them, held his shoulders firmly back against the chair. His screaming body prevented him from putting up too much of a fight; Tony could barely make out Banks' image as he came towards him carrying what looked like to be a syringe in his hand.

"W…what's that?" Tony stammered.

"I'm not quite sure. It could be heroin or it could be morphine," the officer taunted. "You'd like that wouldn't you? A little pain relief?"

He had to admit that some morphine certainly would take the edge off the constant agony he was enduring; Tony also knew that losing that edge could possibly mean losing his life. "No," he grunted.

"Or it could be something far worse."

The former agent clenched his jaw and tried to fight against his restraints as the needle pierced the bruised skin of his forearm. Tony cried out in frustration as the medicine coursed through his system. His limbs began to grow heavy and his ability to move was quickly diminishing. He heard the sound of the handcuffs being undone and as much as he wanted to strike out, Tony couldn't move. He felt one of the guards push him out of the chair and to the floor. Why couldn't he move? He could hear, he could feel, he could...a sense of dread consumed Tony as the guard knelt down beside him.

"It could be something to take the fight out of you. Thanks to the doc, a little bit of this concoction and you can't move. You can't fight, DiNozzo." Tony could now feel Banks' breath on his ear. "You can't do anything but lay there and take it. We can do anything to you and you can't do a thing about it."

No! Tony felt like he was going to throw up. The thought of what these men could do to him terrified him. He had to fight, but he couldn't even lift his arm; he was helpless and Tony could do nothing but rectify his current situation. His ability to scream out loud had been stolen from him; the only form of vocal protest was a feral growl as he attempted to warn his attackers. As Banks and the other guards laughed at him, a string of profanities ran through his mind. He vowed that one day these men would get what was coming to him, provided that he lived through this nightmare.

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A savage scream tore from his throat.

Tony sat up, drenched in sweat; his breaths coming in strained gasps. His eyes darted about the room, making sure that he was alone; it took him a few seconds to realize that he wasn't in prison. He shivered and pulled the blanket up around him as he struggled to control his breathing; his throat was sore from the scream that he had not been able to give life to back then. Tony silently chastised himself for losing control of his emotions; he should have fought harder against his body's desire for sleep.

He heard the pounding of feet coming up the basement stairs. "

"Idiot," he mumbled to himself. Drawing attention to himself was the last thing he wanted to do, yet apparently he'd done just that. The basement door opened and Gibbs and Ducky came rushing over to the couch.

"You okay, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.

"I'm fine," he lied, trying to hide the fact that he was trembling.

"You sure?"

"I said I was fine!" he roared, wiping the sweat from his head with his good hand. "I'd be even better if you'd leave me the hell alone!"

Once again, he wished that he had another place to go; a place where he could be alone and not have to worry about disturbing others with his nightmares. Tony was going to have to spend the rest of his life learning how to deal with everything that had happened and he didn't want an audience. The young man knew that he probably shouldn't have snapped at Gibbs and Ducky, but he had only a tenuous grasp of his emotions, and the two men had been a convenient target.

"I can't do that, Tony," Gibbs calmly replied.

In Tony's opinion, the team leader was too calm. It was almost like he was afraid that he would say something to upset him; he couldn't stand the fact that Gibbs walked on eggshells around him. DiNozzo knew that he needed to cut Gibbs some slack, but he was afraid. He was terrified of trusting anyone; the only person he could trust was himself and there were days he wasn't sure that he could even do that.

Tony buried his head in his hands. He had to pull himself together or else risk losing his mind. Swallowing hard, he finally met Gibbs' concerned gaze. "I know," he whispered. "I know."

He tried not to tense when the older man gently squeezed his shoulder. At one time, he had craved attention from this man, but now that he had it again, he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to accept it. Tony pulled away from Gibbs and lay back down on the couch. "Sorry to bother you."

"No bother at all," Gibbs assured him. "But since you're awake, there's something I'd like to talk to you about. If you're up to it, that is."

Tony stared at Gibbs, uncertainty dancing upon his weary features. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like what the agent had to say. Blowing out a slow breath, he tried to mentally prepare himself for whatever news that Gibbs had to deliver. He kept telling himself that as long as he wasn't being sent back to prison, that he could handle anything. Now, he wasn't so sure.