After speaking with his uncle, Tony seemed okay. And he was okay, if Gibbs was willing to overlook how the usual weekend chores morphed into a belated, nearly monumental exercise in spring cleaning. Everything that could be vacuumed, dusted, and washed was. Nothing was left untouched. The entire house practically sparkled and the air was lightly scented with lemon.
Gibbs understood how the need to stay busy, to just not think beyond the moment could become an almost obsessive compulsion. That same need was how he ended up building a boat in his basement before it occurred to him there was no obvious means of getting it out when finished. So he didn't comment on Tony's actions, didn't question his motives or reasoning, didn't really think it all that odd for Tony to suddenly want rust stains and soap scum he'd ignored for months to be gone. Gibbs just helped move furniture when asked, threw away whatever they'd agreed had out lived its usefulness, got more bleach when they ran out, and tried not to look overly concerned.
He'd harbored a faint hope that all this frenzied activity would keep Tony from having a restless night. Gibbs suspected Tony hoped the same. Unfortunately, it wasn't a peaceful night for either of them.
Tony's nightmares weren't something he ever talked about. And Gibbs never pushed him to explain them, mostly because the former Marine wasn't sure what to say. Words had never been his strong suit. He was better with actions. It worked most of the time; all Tony seemed to want or need was for him to be there, to have Gibbs ground him, reassure him he wasn't lost in whatever night terror or memory had risen up to haunt him, that he was safe; Gibbs could do all that without ever saying a word.
And if Gibbs did push Tony to talk, forced him to tell him about what made him whimper in his sleep, struggle to breathe, shiver, cry out in pain, curl into a defensive ball….Gibbs worried that he might end up admitting he knew a lot more about Tony's childhood than his lover had seen fit to share. He didn't want to irreparably damage the trust Tony so obviously had in him by admitting he had secretly dug into his lover's past. He didn't want to fracture Tony's faith in him by letting it slip that a PI friend had provided Gibbs with a detailed medical history from the time Tony was born until he graduated from high school. He knew about Tony's mother being physically abusive while daddy dearest was either too drunk to care or simply never gave a damn to begin with. Gibbs was betting on the later. The miserable fucker had abandoned Tony in a hotel room for two days never even realizing his son was missing until he got a room service bill.
Gibbs had even called in some favors and researched Tony's other family members, assessing them as possible targets if and when the time for retribution arose. First rule of combat was to know as much about the enemy as possible. He hadn't expected to have to use the knowledge quite so soon, but he wasn't going to face off against the DiNozzo clan unprepared. He was determined to take no prisoners to protect Tony from these people.
Gibbs found himself praying that the Catholic Nuns who'd told him all about the torments of Hell in an effort to coerce good behavior hadn't gotten it wrong. He wanted Elizabeth and Anthony DiNozzo Sr. to be writhing in agony. It wouldn't bother him one bit if the rest of the family ended up there too. Pricks.
Sunday, Gibbs thought maybe Tony was doing better. His normally lively green eyes were dulled, showing the effects of too little sleep, but he seemed calmer, more settled. He ate breakfast, albeit not as much as he usually did. It worried Gibbs, but that was a normal reaction. Tony's appetite always suffered when he was stressed. Gibbs wasn't going to give Tony any grief over it until he failed to eat anything at all. As long as he was making the effort, Gibbs wasn't going to force the issue.
Tony waited until nearly noon to call Andrea. He got the details on the time of the funeral, reading of the will, who would be there, and what to expect. Gibbs had stayed close, shamelessly eavesdropping. It earned him a look of fond amusement and a wry smile from Tony. The younger man has just tilted the phone so it would be easier for him to hear her for himself.
Tony gave Andrea their flight information. They'd fly out Tuesday night, first class, and back Thursday night. Gibbs got Tony to agree to ask for Friday off as well. The younger man might not think so, but Gibbs was pretty sure he'd need the long weekend to recoup. If he needed a distraction, they could always clean the house again.
Andrea didn't seem at all surprised to hear Tony wasn't coming alone. Gibbs didn't think she new they were lovers or that Gibbs was his boss. His assumption was confirmed later when Tony explained later that most of his family, as very wealthy individuals, routinely traveled with a small entourage. Personal assistants, nannies, lawyers, bodyguards---they all had someone in tow. Gibbs grinned wolfishly, realizing most would assume he was Tony's bodyguard. They would have little idea that he was much, much more than that, or just how vigilant and dangerous it would make him. Tony was his, and he took care of his own. Always.
Tony called his lawyer after speaking with Andrea, making sure his legal representative could be there for the reading of the will. Overhearing only part of that conversation, Gibbs realized Tony was probably good friends with his lawyer. Tony's voice was far warmer than it would be if he were speaking to someone he had an exclusively professional relationship with. And no attorney Gibbs had ever used accepted a work related call on a Sunday---but then he only had experience with divorce and criminal attorneys. Maybe those that did this sort of civil stuff were a different breed.
Gibbs thought Tony was handling things well enough….until he went running. Tony going running wasn't unusual. It was part of his typical routine. But Gibbs couldn't shake the feeling that his lover might use the exercise the same way he had the simple chores the day before.
Forty five minutes after Tony left, Gibbs found himself looking from his watch to the door, impatiently waiting for the younger man to appear. After an hour, he was pacing the living room. Tony's usual run was took an hour or less…assuming he went for his usual five miles. Gibbs knew his lover added miles when upset. When Tony had been gone an hour and a half, he had his coat on, and keys in hand.
He cursed with quiet vehemence as he drove. Tony had several routes he ran whenever he stayed at Gibbs' place. Assuming his lover would pick the hardest one, Gibbs headed up the street toward an area of steep hills. He knew when Tony ran this way he would always do a lap or two around the small park at the cul de sac at the end of the street. If Tony wasn't there, Gibbs hoped the elevation would give him a good vantage point to see where he was.
The suspension of his car protested when Gibbs crested the hill faster than was wise. He turned into the small parking area, blue eyes scanned the green space in front of him anxiously. He slammed the car into park when he spotted Tony sitting on a bench looking out over the pond in the center of the park.
Gibbs growled, torn between being pissed and relieved. He turned off the car and got out, striding purposefully toward the younger man. He stopped several feet away, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. It wouldn't help if he blew up at Tony, especially when his fear and worry would only sound like anger.
"When I was a kid," Tony spoke softly without turning around, "all I ever wanted was for him to notice me. Wanted to have that kind of father son stuff with him I saw on TV. Just wanted him to give a damn about what I thought…what I wanted…how I felt."
Gibbs frowned. He shouldn't have been surprised Tony knew he was there, but he was. He stepped closer, sitting down next to Tony. Gibbs watched Tony warily, unsure of what to make of the carefully controlled tone, and painfully blank expression. He waited patiently for more, understanding instinctively that Tony only wanted him to listen.
"I don't remember a single time he ever asked. Not once."
"Asked what?" Gibbs questioned softly after Tony remained silent for several minutes.
"How I managed to split my lip and get a black eye." Tony sighed. "He never asked….Never wanted to know how I managed to break my arm or fall down a flight of stairs."
Gibbs' hands curled into tight fists. He struggled to contain his rage. Tony didn't need that right now. He was finally talking, and he needed Gibbs to listen…not to pass judgment or interrupt.
Tony shook his head. "I think I was twelve when I finally figured out I wasn't ever going to be what my father wanted for a son. I wasn't good enough…was never going to be important to him. It's why he found it so easy to ignore me. Forgetting I was even around if I didn't force him to see me."
Gibbs' eyes narrowed. "How did you—"
Tony laughed gently, a sound of genuine amusement. "I learned to play the drums."
Gibbs found his own lips curling in a wry smile. "Atta boy."
"Was Aunt Sully who recommended percussion instruments." Tony shifted, resting his shoulder against Gibbs.
"Think I'd have liked her."
"You would have." Tony sighed deeply. "She helped me understand that it wouldn't matter what I did or didn't do, I was never going to make my parents happy. She told me it was best if I focused on making myself happy."
"Good advice," Gibbs murmured quietly.
"Wasn't until I met Joe and we talked…a lot…that I really started to believe it wasn't about me." Tony grimaced. "Least I thought I started to believe. And then…shit…then suddenly I'm back where I started. Like some sort of dog chasing my own tail."
Gibbs wrapped an arm around Tony, pulling him closer. He knew Joe was one of Tony's frat brothers, and was still one of Tony's best friends. It was gratifying to know his lover had someone to talk to----even if it wasn't him.
"Weird how having the son of a bitch die made me realize how little I'd actually come to terms with." Tony rubbed a hand over his face. "It's like there is all this unfinished crap between us that now will never be finished."
Gibbs wished Ducky was here. He'd know what to say. Something profound and meaningful that would reassure Tony his feelings for normal. That death often made people feel at loose ends. Tony was certainly not unique in his feelings.
"Thing is…most of the crap is his…or was. None of it is really mine. At least that's what Joe tells me."
Gibbs definitely wanted to meet Joe. He sounded like a smart man.
"Sully told me that my father had the chance to leave the family business. Could have struck out on his own. Been his own man instead of what my grandfather had in mind."
Gibbs blinked, unsure how that fit. "And?"
"He didn't have the balls to stand up to my grandfather. He was too chicken shit to take the risk." Tony snorted, shaking his head. "My father opted for the easy way and picked the gilded cage. Married the woman my grandfather selected, took the job at the company grandfather made for him. He started drinking and never really stopped."
Understanding how Tony's father became the man he was didn't make Gibbs feel any less hostility toward him. Anthony DiNozzo Sr. had made his choice. He had no right to make his son suffer for his own self-induced unhappiness. He could have made the best of the situation, found something redeeming in his choice that made it worthwhile. Instead, he punished everyone around him for his inability to be man enough to stand up to Michael DiNozzo and make a life for himself he wanted. It was ironic he should raise a son who managed to do what he couldn't.
"I keep thinking I should be sorry he's dead. I should feel some sense of loss."
Gibbs nearly growled. "Why?"
"Cause he was my father." Tony shrugged one shoulder. "Seems like I should care he's dead. But honestly, I care more about people I've never met. Like the homicide cases we work on. They mean more to me than he ever has or will. Not sure what that says about me."
"Never met your father, but I hate his guts," Gibbs said conversationally, keeping his hostility inside where it belonged for now. "And I know what it says about me."
Tony looked at him, a small smile forming. "What?"
"That I love you, Tony DiNozzo." Gibbs smiled warmly back. "Your father was a fucking moron not to see that there is nothing more important than you. Nothing." He made eye contact and held it. "You are a damn good man. How you feel or don't feel about your father doesn't change that."
Tony ducked his head. "Thanks."
"Welcome."
Gibbs felt Tony shiver and noticed for the first time how damp his sweatshirt was. It was warm enough for a fall day, which meant it was too cool to be sitting around in wet clothing. It wouldn't take much for Tony to catch a cold.
He cocked his head to one side. "How far did you run?"
"Don't know." Tony frowned thoughtfully, forehead wrinkling. Gibbs knew that meant Tony had probably been moving on autopilot. He'd done that himself enough to know what it was like.
Tony shrugged. "I was on my way back when I got a stitch in my side. I walked around the park to work it out. Just got to thinking and…well, lost track of time."
Gibbs nodded. He was betting Tony had pushed himself harder than he usually did and likely went farther than his normal five miles. But given his willingness to talk, Gibbs thought it was probably just what the younger man had needed. Certainly had worked better than cleaning the house had.
"C'mon, let's get you home." Gibbs ruffled Tony's hair. "Thinking you need a little more hot water therapy."
Tony grinned. He stood up, a soft moan escaping. He rubbed absently at his quads. "Thinking a bath."
"My tub isn't as nice as yours." There was no denying the wistful envy in Gibbs' voice.
Tony laughed softly. Gibbs was pleased to green eyes sparkle with familiar good humor and mischief. "Maybe not as nice, but it is clean."
Gibbs chuckled, wrapping an arm around Tony's shoulders, leading him toward the car. "It is at that."
Gibbs figured with the run and a hot bath, he wouldn't have any trouble convincing Tony to lay down for a nap. They could both do with a little more rest. Monday morning was going to come with another set of challenges to be faced. Those would be best met with a clear head.
"Thanks for coming to get me." The look he gave Gibbs made it clear Tony was grateful for more than the ride.
Gibbs nodded, accepting the gratitude even though he didn't think it really necessary. Unlike the DiNozzo family, Gibbs knew the value of the treasure he'd been given. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for Tony…and he hoped some day his lover would realize that. He fought bad guys, bullets, bombs and the plague for him, Gibbs sure as hell wasn't going to back down in face of Tony's fucked up family.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Tony talks a bit about his father.