Tony sat up, physically wrenching himself free of his nightmare, a scream dieing stillborn as he struggled to catch his breath. "God," he ground out in a harsh whisper, unsure if it was a prayer or a curse. He shivered, pulling the quilt up around his shoulders, unwilling to lie down again just yet.
Even though he expected the nightmare it still caught him by surprise, hitting Tony with more than its usual force despite having had the same dream dozens of times. It showed up every time he thought about Caleb for more than a fleeting moment, or talked about him in any detail. Tony ran a shaky hand through his hair, sighing softly. Maybe it just hit so hard now because it had literally been years since he'd talked about Caleb or even dared to look at his photo.
Tony hadn't been there to witness Caleb's beating firsthand. However, he had access to the crime scene photos, had read the witness reports and heard perpetrators allocutions. Those were more than enough fodder for his imagination to recreate what happened in his dreams.
In his dream, he could only watch, unable to interfere, his warning unheard, his order to stop unheeded as three men brutally assaulted Caleb. Two held his lover while the other hit him repeatedly with a baseball bat. Tony's imagination readily supplied the dimly lit dirty alley, the sound of wood hitting flesh, screams and pleas for mercy, curse words and derogatory comments spewing forth from the batter in a steady stream. Tony winced as things like 'fucking faggot' and 'take your punishment like a man, you cocksucker' echoed in his head.
Those echoes didn't bother him half as much as the look in Caleb's eyes. In his dream, Caleb begged him for help, begged him to do something, anything. In real life, he hadn't been there, hadn't even known about what happened until after the doctors declared Caleb DOA in the emergency room. In his dream, Tony was always running forward, desperately reaching out for his lover, yet never got any closer. He could see the final blow to Caleb's temple, was close enough to feel the spray of blood, knew when Caleb closed his eyes forever.
Tony rubbed a hand across his face, shuddering as cold sweat reminded him of the feel of cooling blood. He never dreamed about Kate's death, but had yet to forget the feel of her blood on his skin. His mind had no trouble incorporating the knowledge into an old nightmare, making it seem even more real.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, hyper alert to everything around him. Pale moon light streamed silently through a single paned window. He heard the sounds of insects and an owl calling from not too far away. Wood smoke scented the air. The bed was familiar but not the one he slept in most nights.
"Cabin," Tony murmured to himself. Just saying it made him feel safer.
He glanced at his watch, the luminescent hands and numbers relaying the time. Three A.M. Too early to be up, but going back to sleep wasn't really an option. He never went back to sleep after a nightmare. Tony sighed, wondering if he'd wake Gibbs if he got up and got something to read.
The older man had been insistent on taking the couch when they'd come back to the cabin after dinner. Tony didn't see any point in arguing about it. The couch wasn't a bad place to sleep, and it wasn't like he'd win the argument anyway.
Tony shrugged to himself. He knew where everything was in the cabin. Not like he couldn't find a book in the dark and be quiet about it. He'd light the lamp by the bed when he got back.
He was tempted to get out of bed still wrapped in the quilt, but forced himself to leave the blanket on the bed. Tony hadn't used anything for tangible security since he was five and his mother threw away a stuffed rabbit he'd carried everywhere. I'm an adult, Tony told himself. He wasn't going to let a dream, no matter how bad, turn him into a wuss.
He padded silently to the door, glad he'd left it open when he'd gone to bed. It had a tendency to creak. He listened carefully. Gibbs didn't snore like Ziva. Thank God. Tony could just make out the sounds of deep, even breathing.
The fire had died down to nearly nothing, just a few embers still glowed in the hearth. Tony considered building it back up, before dismissing the idea. It wasn't worth the risk of waking Gibbs.
Tony stepped over to the bookshelf. Mentally reviewing what he had there and where. Not that it mattered. He wouldn't own it if he hadn't liked it so even if he grabbed something other than what he expected it would still be a good read.
Nothing too heavy, he decided. In spite of the adrenaline rush the nightmare had caused, or maybe because of it, he was tired. He still hadn't quite recharged his batteries from the last case, or even the one before that if he were honest with himself. Tony hadn't yet mastered Gibbs ability to run forever on coffee alone.
Physically, he was tired, but mentally, he felt like his mind was still running at high speed. The frantic, constant activity of his thoughts, the desperate need not to think about the nightmare wouldn't let him focus enough to wade through something like War and Peace. If he had to think too hard, Tony wouldn't be able to lose himself in reading. The past would keep intruding and would defeat the whole purpose of sneaking into the main room for a book in the first place.
He skipped the top shelf. That was mostly non-fiction with topics ranging from the constitutional law and the federalist papers to art history and filmography of the late 20th century. Tony hesitated on the second shelf, fingers running lightly over tops of the volumes there. He'd never admit to actually enjoying quality works of literature. Not that it mattered. No one he worked with would believe he owned a copy of the complete works of Shakespeare or that he'd read To Kill a Mockingbird more than once.
The third shelf was lighter works of fiction. Tony grinned to himself as he mentally reviewed what he knew was on that shelf. Dashiell Hammett wasn't a bad writer. Tony enjoyed his books as much as the movies made from them. He pulled free what he thought was probably 'The Thin Man' or 'The Maltese Falcon'. Either one would work and neither suffered from his already having read them several times before.
Tony didn't think, he simply reacted when someone grabbed his right shoulder as he headed back to the bedroom. He dropped the book and spun to the right, hoping to turn into his attacker. He knew he'd guessed right when his left hand felt the flat planes of a man's chest. His right hand grabbed an arm near the wrist, pulling while he pushed with his left, his right leg swung forward to sweep his attacker's legs out from under him. Tony went to the floor with his attacker, hitting hardwood with bruising force. He used his weight to pin whoever had grabbed him.
"Tony! It's me. Stop--"
"Shit." It had been Gibbs, not some mystery attacker intent on doing to him what had been done to Caleb. Tony scrambled back, releasing the older man as though he'd been burned. "Sorry...Sorry, Boss. Didn't realize it was you."
"Yeah, I kind of figured that," Gibbs counted dryly as he sat up. Tony couldn't see him glaring in the dark, but he was pretty sure Gibbs was doing it.
"Where did you learn that move?"
"Sammy." Tony shrugged. "He started drilling me in Judo and Aikido not long after--" Tony stopped abruptly not wanting to bring up Caleb again. He cleared his throat. "He's been teaching me stuff for years."
"Why the hell didn't you show me any of this when we were in the gym?"
"Because that was boxing." He wasn't about to tell Gibbs that he thought it better to keep what skill he possessed in unarmed combat a secret. He didn't want to become Gibbs' full time sparring partner. Tony needed his gym time to get away from the man he reminded himself almost hourly was physically off limits. A hot and sweaty Gibbs wasn't something Tony thought he'd be able to resist on a regular basis. He couldn't afford to do anything more stupid than usual.
"Why don't you sit tight while I get us a little more light?" He didn't give Gibbs a chance to answer or argue, rising smoothly to his feet and heading for the fireplace. The candles on the mantel were easily lit from the still glowing embers. He used one of them to light the hurricane lamp, turning up the wick.
"You should get this place wired for electricity at some point," Gibbs commented as he rose to his feet, picking up the book Tony had dropped.
"Like this better." Tony shrugged. It was more homey with natural lighting. Electricity just didn't fit the rustic nature of the place and the building had existed as it was for more than a century, updating seemed almost an insult to the original builder.
Gibbs glanced at his watch, and ran a hand through his messy gray hair. "What are you doing awake at this hour?"
"Couldn't sleep."
"You want to tell me why?" Sharp blue eyes narrowed.
"It's nothing." Kate said she never had nightmares, so Tony was pretty sure Gibbs didn't have any either. Nothing seemed to bother him much.
"Tony?"
Just the tone of his voice was enough. Tony looked away not wanting to see Gibbs' disappointment or disgust as he answered. "It was just a nightmare. Nothing. Really, Boss. I'm sorry I woke you. I was just going to get something to read an--"
"Tony...sit down."
Tony sat on the edge of the couch watching Gibbs warily. He was still half expected the older man to read him the riot act for executing a take down that had dumped him on his ass so easily. Or to tease him about being so childish as to be afraid of a dream.
Gibbs set the book on the end table before moving to stoke the fire. He added a few pieces of wood. The fire burned merrily, wood popping as it was consumed. Gibbs joined Tony on the couch.
"You okay?" Gibbs asked, studying him closely.
Tony hadn't expected that question. "I'm good. Why?"
"You're shivering."
"Oh." Tony hadn't noticed. The t-shirt and shorts he'd opted to wear to bed were damp in places, the clammy material making him suddenly aware of how cold he was.
Gibbs offered him the blanket that had been shoved to one end of the couch. Tony shook his head, intending to refuse, but the look on Gibbs face made him take it anyway. He wrapped it around himself, sighing silently when the residual warmth from Gibbs' body heat soaked into him. He took a breath, unconsciously relaxing as the scent of coffee, spice and faint traces of sawdust reached him.
"Thanks." Tony gave Gibbs a sheepish smile.
"You want to talk about it?"
Tony shook his head violently. He'd sooner slit his own wrists than show any more weakness in front of Gibbs. Especially now, when they'd come so far from where they'd been. He felt like he had a lot more to risk than he had before. Now, he knew Gibbs played for both teams. Tony didn't want to fuck it up before he even got the opportunity to find out if he might have a chance.
"They say it helps to talk about it." Gibbs offered slowly, looking at the fire, elbows resting on his needs, hands loosely clasped.
Tony opted not to call the older man on the irony of his statement. "Yeah, I've heard that."
"It works."
Tony couldn't help it. He snorted. "Doubt you would know that."
Gibbs looked at him. "You think I don't have my own share of nightmares?"
No, I don't, Tony thought. He sighed. That was probably not a good thing to say aloud, so he opted for something a bit more diplomatic.
"Thinking you don't really talk much about them." And probably not to someone like me, if you do, Tony mused silently. That would be more a topic of conversation for someone like Ducky maybe, or hell, Fornell even.
"I told myself I wouldn't dream about Kate," Gibbs said after a moment, voice quiet, gentle. "And that worked...as long as I remembered to tell myself that before I went to bed."
"Never had a nightmare about her," Tony admitted softly.
"Why not?" Gibbs looked surprised by his admission.
Given that I was right next to her when Kate died, Tony thought, Gibbs being surprised makes sense. Tony struggled to find the right words to explain it.
"Guess...in some ways, in my own head..I still see her as alive. I don't really think of her as gone." He wasn't going to tell Gibbs that he'd actually seen Kate after she'd died. He knew seeing her was probably little more than a product stress and his imagination, but it worked to erase his last real view of her with a bullet hole in her forehead. To Tony, Kate would always be young, lovely and still capable of harassing him with her sharp wit and words.
"Wish I could see her that way."
That heartfelt wish made Tony look at Gibbs sharply. Nodding to himself, Tony decided Gibbs' wish was something he could give the older man. He'd done it for McGee, helping the junior agent deal with Kate's death by talking to her corpse as though she were still alive.
"You remember showing her how to repel?" They'd tested the cable links to see if a Marine's fall to his death had been the result of his equipment being tampered with.
Gibbs smiled ruefully. "I thought she was going to piss her pants."
"Me too." Tony chuckled. "How about those horrible veggie tofu things she wanted us to eat?"
Gibbs grimaced. "They were...disgusting."
That was putting it mildly. Tony would prefer to eat paper to trying another one of those. "She was such a good Catholic girl."
"You think she still had the uniform in her closet?" Gibbs asked suddenly, eyes twinkling.
Tony grinned. "Doubt it, but then knowing her, she just might have kept it." Seeing her in that school girl uniform was still a personal triumph even if it was only the product of his imagination.
"Still can't believe you used her PDA for target practice."
"Made you use your hat." Gibbs reminded Tony.<
"Yeah, but that was a lot cheaper to replace." Tony shook his head a little amazed that she'd gotten another PDA and had it programmed in less than an hour.
"She learned her lesson."
"Yeah, so did I." Tony practiced on the shooting range regularly ever since. His scores stayed well within the acceptable range.
"She never learned how to get used to riding in the car with you, Boss." Tony knew Gibbs would recall the many times Kate had a white knuckled grip on the 'oh shit' handle, or the times he'd made her squeak in fear, her pride keeping her from screaming outright.
Gibbs snickered. "Only one who seems to have done that is you."
He wasn't used to it. It was more a function of Tony trusting Gibbs. The older man was often impatient and reckless, but he was never truly careless. His driving really showcased a skill in handling a car that would put most to shame. Tony wasn't sure he'd put Ziva in the same classification. She seemed a bit too out of control, too aggressive in her driving for him to really have the same level of faith in her ability.
Reminiscing about Kate felt good. Tony realized with some surprise that they hadn't talked about her at all since the funeral. She deserved better than that. Sorry, Kate, he apologized silently.
Trading stories was entertaining and calming; it was a good diversion from his earlier nightmare, far better than the book he'd picked out. He didn't know if that was what Gibbs had intended, but it was a nice byproduct if he hadn't. Tony found himself settling in on the couch, relaxing. He was startled to realize he could easily fall asleep. That had never happened before after a nightmare.
Tony yawned, blinking sleepily at the fire. He tried to hold up his end of the conversation, but knew he was failing. He was warm, comfortable and with Gibbs nearby Tony knew he was safe. Nothing was would dare to hurt him with the former Marine around. The man had been there to rescue him from the sewers, had stayed only minutes behind when Tony was chained to Jeffrey White, had hung tight when relying on a possible foreign spy to defuse a bomb, he'd even fought off the plague reassuring Tony that he'd live when just breathing hurt like hell. Against Gibbs, nightmares didn't stand a chance.
"You're half asleep, aren't you?" Gibbs voice was laced with what sounded like affection and amusement.
Tony fought to open his eyes fully. "Long week, Boss...very long week."
"Lay down, Tony." The command was gentle. "You'll hurt your neck if you fall asleep like that."
Getting up to go to the bedroom seemed like too much effort and would take more coordination than Tony was sure he had at the moment. He wanted to stay near the warmth and safety he'd found. The bedroom was so far away...dark and cold, lonely. Tony sighed, giving into the inevitable. He struggled to free himself from the blanket, but Gibbs stopped him.
"I meant here, Tony. Lay down."
"Oh." Tony's eyes closed completely. "You can...take the bed...if you want," he mumbled as he slumped sideways. He thought it odd that his pillow seemed firm and warm but he was too comfortable to really give a damn.
He sighed softly, breathing in Gibbs' scent. It seemed to be so much stronger than it had been when he'd first wrapped himself up in the blanket. Tony smiled, reassured by the familiarity and sense of safety that came with the fragrance. He shifted, burrowing in closer to the source of warmth and comfort.
"Shhh...I got you."
There was a hand in his hair. Tony frowned, eyelids flickering as he struggled against Morpheus' irresistible pull. Something wasn't quite right...unfamiliar but soothing...welcomed...wanted...not wrong, but not...Tony tried to concentrate, working on the puzzle.
"Shhh...I got your six. It's okay. Sleep, Tony."
Tony sighed, accepting the situation. Gibbs would make sure whatever wasn't right wouldn't hurt him. It was safe to sleep. He'd figure it out when he got up.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Tony has a nightmare.
Chapter End Notes:
language bad in a place or two. More spoilers.