Numb was the only word that could describe how Tony DiNozzo was feeling at that particular moment. Abby and Palmer had brought him back to Gibbs’ house where he was now sitting on the couch, his gaze fixed on the coffee table in front him in an effort to avoid the worried filled glances being directed at him by his friends. The one thing that he couldn’t block out was Abby and Jimmy’s hushed whispers coming from the kitchen as they busied themselves fixing him something to eat. He had no doubt that his earlier meltdown was the topic of conversation and they were trying to figure out exactly what they could say without him having another emotional upheaval.
Tony wondered if he should inform them that they were wasting their time; he didn’t feel like eating and he certainly didn’t feel like talking. The thought of doing either of those tasks set his stomach churning and the last thing he wanted to do was to throw up on Gibbs’ floor. Within a twenty-four hour period, he had destroyed the team leader’s basement and boat, freaked out at his doctor’s appointment, and had admitted to killing a man. He had caused enough trouble for the former Marine for one day and he was certain that making street pizza on his floor would not be the way to endear him to the agent.
He sighed as his thoughts centered on the enigmatic Gibbs. Why had he told him what had happened? Why couldn’t he fight the memories? Tony had kept them at bay for so long, but now, he couldn’t rid his mind of the vile images that were constantly assaulting his ability to distinguish the past and the present. Everyone, including Gibbs, had told him that he could reclaim his life, but now that was impossible. The door of his past and been opened wide for all to see; now there would only be more questions and he would lose what little ground he had gained.
Cradling his head in his hands, he intertwined his fingers in his hair and began tugging at the stray locks. The pain would help keep him focused or so Steve had told him many times. Tony had quickly figured out that Steve was a bold faced liar. Pain had only served to humiliate and destroy his soul and his had been completely torn to shreds. There was nothing left of him except a scarred body and a damaged mind and he had been a fool to believe that he wasn’t anything more than a drunkard.
A drink was what he wanted at the moment, but he knew that Gibbs had cleared out all the liquor in the house. Despite every agonizing moment that he had endured during his physical withdrawal, Tony still had a difficult time quelling what the doctor had referred to as the psychological dependency of the alcohol. Although his body no longer craved the substance, his mind was not completely free from it. There were times that being sober wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
“Pull yourself together,” he quietly chastised.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, he sat back against the cushion. “Great,” Tony mumbled. “Now I’m sitting here talking to myself; maybe I need to be locked up.”
It was at that moment that Abby and Palmer elected to join him, carrying three plates and three glasses of milk. Obviously, they were determined to make sure that he ate something and had invited themselves to be his dining companions. “Did you say something, Tony?’ Abby asked.
He shook his head. There wasn’t any need for them to know that he was losing his mind. “No,” he lied. “I didn’t say anything.”
“If you were talking to yourself, that’s okay. I do that all the time.”
Tony managed a tired grin as the Goth placed his plate and glass in front of him. “Grilled cheese ala Scuito,” Abby proudly announced.
He was fighting the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him as the sight and smell of the food assaulted his senses. “Uh, no thanks, Abby. I’m not very hungry.”
“Gibbs said that you had to eat something, Tony. You need to put some weight back on and besides, you love my grilled cheese.”
“I do?” He knew that he would just have to take her word for it. For the last few months, food had not been one of Tony’s priorities; he had been more concerned about where his next bottle of whiskey was coming from.
“She does make an incredible sandwich,” Palmer added, interrupting his trip down memory lane.
Abby nodded in agreement. “It’s the combination of three types of cheese and instead of mayonnaise, I use…”
“You use three different types of cheese? I only saw you use two and…”
“Uh guys?” Tony swallowed hard. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m really not hungry.”
“I can fix you something else,” Abby offered.
Tony closed his eyes and laid back against the cushion, hoping that the dull throbbing in his head would not develop into a full-fledged migraine. “I want a drink,” he whispered, forgetting that Abby and Palmer were still in the living room.
Abby sat down next to him and leaned against his shoulder as her long slender fingers wrapped around his. He found the demonstration of affection oddly comforting and natural; it was a feeling that Tony could get used to. He heard Palmer gather the plates and excuse himself from the room, leaving the two of them alone.
“Do you want to talk about it?” the Goth asked.
“Not really,” Tony admitted. “I just want to forget.”
“But you can’t.
He shook his head, wincing at the slight movement. “No, I can’t.”
“Maybe it’s time for you to remember. Maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you that it’s time for you to put the past behind you and move on.”
“I don’t know. I killed a man in cold blood,” he reminded her. “How can I move on from that?”
“Tony, no one is going to blame you for killing him; he was an evil, sadistic man and he deserved to die!”
“But I should’ve been stronger. I let him get to me.”
“Look at me,” Abby demanded.
Opening his eyes, he met her determined gaze. “What?” he sighed.
“I don’t know everything that happened to you, but I do know that it was bad. I also know that I’ve never met this Steve guy, but I do know that I’m not upset that he’s dead.”
“I’m not either,” Tony conceded. “But by killing him, I sunk to his level. I’m no better than him.”
“Don’t say that! You’re nothing like him,” she insisted.
Tony clenched his jaw. “I stabbed him over and over even after he wasn’t moving. I had to make sure he was dead. I didn’t just kill him, Abby. I butchered him.”
He felt her squeeze his hand as she brought up to her dark lips and kissed it. “Tony, what did he do to you?”
There was no easy way to answer her question. Pain and indignity had become his constant companions, causing time to no longer exist. He remembered the day that he finally accepted the fact that no one was ever coming for him; Tony had never felt so alone in his life. The constant taunting and torture had finally become too much for him to bear. A breaking point had been achieved and the man known as Tony DiNozzo was no more.
“I…I remember waking up and it was dark.” He felt his throat constrict as he began to recount the first few hours of captivity. “I couldn’t see anything. I could hardly stand to move. I tried to get up but my leg was shackled to the floor; I guess I started to panic.”
“I can see why,” Abby soothed. “You’ve never been fond of the dark.”
“No, I’m not. Not sure why it bothers me, but I guess that it will come back to me sooner or later.” A weak, mischievous grin spread across his face. “Or you could just tell me.”
“Nope. Your memories have to return on their own.”
His smile faded. “Yeah.” The only problem with his memory returning was that there were too many things that he wanted to leave buried; unfortunately, circumstances were not going to work in his favor.
“What else do you remember?” Abby pressed.
“The first time…Steve came, he stood just out of my reach and simply stared at me. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was there. He never said anything; he just kept looking at me. I don’t how long he stayed, but right before he left, he finally spoke. He said that he was looking forward to breaking me. I mouthed off to him but he just laughed; he had the most evil laugh you could imagine.”
He could still hear Steve’s laughter whenever he closed his eyes, but he decided not to reveal this to Abby. Tony was already questioning his sanity; he didn’t need to add fuel to the fire. With his free hand, he scrubbed his face. How could he begin to describe the horrors of his captivity? He couldn’t bear to think about them; how could he talk about them?
“Tony?’ she prodded. “Are you okay?”
Shaking his head, he pulled away from her and wrapped his arms around his trembling frame. “No. No, I’m not okay.”
He didn’t resist as she pulled him against her into one of her infamous hugs. “You’re safe now, Tony. No one is going to hurt you ever again.”
“You’re right about that,” he vowed. “I’ll die before I go through anything like that again.”
“You still haven’t told me what happened when…”
Their conversation was interrupted as the front door opened to reveal an attractive red headed woman now standing in the foyer. He had seen her before and remembered being told that she was the Director of NCIS, but as he stared at her, there was a familiarity that he couldn’t explain. Tony sat up as she made her way over to them; the knot in his stomach pulling tighter with every click of the woman’s heel.
Abby stood up and greeted her. “Director Shepard. What are you doing here?”
“I was just coming to check on Tony and see how he was doing,” the Director replied.
Tony pushed himself up off the couch and maneuvered himself between this obviously powerful woman and Abby. There was something about this woman that he did not like. “I’m fine,” he finally grunted, refusing to elaborate and hoping that Abby and Palmer, who was now standing in the foyer, would follow his lead. Until he knew why the alarms were going off inside his mind, he would not let his guard down around the Director.
“That’s good, Tony. I’m not sure if you remember my name. It’s Jenny.”
He didn’t acknowledge her, but simply stood his ground. What was it about this woman that he didn’t trust or like? Tony stared into Jenny Shepard’s green eyes searching for an answer, but all that was reflected in her fixed stare was the unspoken request to speak to him in private.
The Director smiled at him, her eyes riveted to his rigid body. “Abby and Jimmy, would you please excuse us? I’d like a few minutes alone with Tony.”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Abby said. “He’s had a long day and…”
“Consider it an order, Abby.”
Tony nodded at his friends, indicating that he would be all right. He figured that Abby would be on the phone to Gibbs in a matter of seconds so he probably wouldn’t have a lot of time to figure out why he was so uneasy around the Director. Today had been the day for unwanted memories resurfacing; what was one more?
As he watched Abby and Palmer retreat into the kitchen, Tony was suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of vulnerability that frightened him. The Director looked around the room. “Is there some place we can talk?” she asked.
He was about to suggest the basement, but being trapped underground with her was not something that he was going to subject himself to. There was definitely something about her that did not set well with him. Tony motioned towards the front door. “How about the porch?”
“That will be fine, Tony.”
Tony shuddered as his name rolled off her lips. He had heard her voice before and now he was certain that she had been in the room that had been his prison all those months. But why? What had he ever done to her that would make her approve of the torture that he had been forced to endure?
He followed her out on the porch, hoping to find the answers he was looking for, but at the same time, scared of what those answers would be. Tony wasn’t sure how much more he could handle today, but he was about to find out. He closed the door behind him and waited with baited breath for Jenny to address him. When she finally spoke, he found himself struggling not to flee back inside the house.
“So Tony, how are you really doing?” she coyly began.
“I told you I’m fine.”
She took a step closer to him and instinctively backed away from her. “In that case, Agent DiNozzo, I have a few things I need to say to you.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“So what do you think Duck?”
While the ME had been examining the remains of the man that DiNozzo referred to as Steve, Jethro Gibbs had scoured the dungeon where his senior agent had obviously spent several torturous months. Dried blood and bodily wastes decorated the floor as well as some of the walls. Assorted knives and syringes lay scattered on the single table in the room; chains were attached to the walls in various places, each one of them obviously used in some fashion to keep Tony bound while unspeakable pain was inflicted upon him.
He had gathered as much evidence as possible, hoping that Ducky and Abby could find a clue to Tony’s nameless tormentor who had managed to remain elusive. The team leader took special care with the syringes, hoping that the drugs could be identified, giving him more insight into what had happened to Tony.
Joining the Scotsman, he tamped down his own urge to vomit at the sight of the corpse. He had seen many heinous sights in his career, but the knowledge that Tony had been responsible for this act made this one almost unbearable. The thought that DiNozzo had reached his breaking point was almost unfathomable; but Gibbs knew that a man could only take so much. He had reached his breaking point years ago and it had taken him a long time to recover from it.
“I think that this man died a very painful death, but I daresay that he deserved it,” Ducky replied. “I can only imagine the desperation that Tony must have felt to…”
“He’s only human, Duck. Judging by what all I’ve seen, the dirtbag got off easy.”
“I’m not sure that this…um…Steve would agree with you. He was stabbed over 20 times and his throat was slit; a very violent death indeed. I still can’t believe that Tony could…”
Gibbs eyes narrowed. “You don’t know what this man did to him, Duck. I don’t even know all the details. I just know that it’s a good thing he’s dead; it saves me the trouble of hunting him down and killing him myself. There’s at least one more bastard out there and when I find him, he’ll regret the day he ever laid eyes on my agent,” he vowed.
“Just don’t let your pursuit get in the way of Tony’s recovery,” the physician warned. “He is going to need you even more now that the memories of his captivity are surfacing.”
The team leader bristled. “I wasn’t there when he was lying in his own filth calling out my name and I wasn’t there when they were shooting him up with drugs that kept him from thinking straight, but I’m not going to let him down again.”
“I didn’t mean…”
Gibbs waved off Ducky’s apology. “It’s all right, Duck. I’m just a little on edge.”
“That’s understandable.”
He stared at the corpse lying at his feet. “I want this kept under wraps,” the team leader insisted. “DiNozzo doesn’t need this broadcasted right now. There are still too many variables out there.”
Puzzled, the doctor asked, “Such as?
Gibbs blew out an exasperated breath. “Such as Tony’s memory. I don’t know if he’s holding back or if he just doesn’t want to tell me. I think he’s trying to hold on to this Todd Gibbs persona and that something is keeping him from completely accepting that he’s Anthony DiNozzo. Now that we know the truth about Steve, I’m worried that Tony will find a reason to stay away.”
“Have you thought about my suggestion of hypnosis?”
“Yeah, but I just don’t know. Right now, he’s not even willing to talk to a counselor; I can only imagine his reaction to the idea of someone hypnotizing him.”
“Perhaps I could talk to him. He seems a little more at ease around me.”
Gibbs felt like the ME had just punched him in the gut. He knew that Tony still didn’t completely trust him, but to hear his friend confirm his suspicions was more painful that he wanted to admit.
“I’m sorry, Jethro,” Ducky apologized. “I didn’t mean to imply that…”
“Don’t apologize for telling the truth. He doesn’t trust me, at least not completely.”
“I don’t think that he trusts anybody, well with the exception of Abby, but truthfully he only trusts her to a degree. Just give him…”
“I know,” he finished. “Just give him time.”
Ducky nodded as Gibbs patted him on the shoulder. “I just hope we have the time, Duck. I just have this feeling that DiNozzo is running out of time.”
His cell phone rang and the panicked voice of Abby greeted him. “Gibbs, you better get home quick.”
“What’s wrong?” he demanded to know.
“The Director is here.”
“Jenny? What’s she doing there?”
“She wanted to talk to Tony and I just don’t have a good feeling about him being alone with her. I mean I’m not saying that the Director would hurt him or anything, but Tony looked nervous.”
Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where are they now?”
“On the front porch.”
“I’m on my way,” he growled.
Snapping shut his phone, he headed towards his car. Calling over his shoulder, he instructed the ME to take care of the body and that he would meet him at NCIS. His mind focused solely on Tony, he barely heard Ducky calling out to him.
“Is something wrong?” the Scotsman cried out.
Gibbs paused at the door and met the older man’s concerned gaze. “I think I just found a piece of the puzzle.”
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