Damage - Part Two: Darkness - 3/3

[xanthefic]

Gibbs dropped Tony home and then went straight to his basement and spent a couple of hours working on his boat. He knew it was pointless going to bed – he was too angry and hyped up to sleep in any case, and he needed to bring himself down. There was no way he’d be in any shape to interrogate Admiral Parrish tomorrow if he didn’t get a grip on himself first, and when he did question that bastard, he had to do it *right* - for Tony’s sake.

Working on the boat was the only way he knew of calming himself. The smell of the sawdust and the rhythm of moving back and forwards as he sanded down the wood helped. He bored some holes into the boat and then slammed in some wooden pegs, allowing his pent-up rage to flow into the motion.

He was just about to call it a night when his cell phone rang. He reached for it quickly and felt a little spike of anxiety as he saw the name on the caller display: DiNozzo.

“Gibbs,” he answered. “You okay, Tony?”

“Uh…this is Terry Dyer,” an unfamiliar, slightly squeaky voice replied. “Um…are you a friend of Tony’s?”

Gibbs threw down his hammer and began walking towards the stairs – fast. “Who the hell is this?” he demanded, running up the stairs and out of the door. He grabbed his keys from the hall table and reached for his jacket. He had a bad feeling about this.

“It’s Terry – like I said. Look, I’m at Tony’s place, and he’s…well he’s gone kind of weird on me. It’s like he’s zoned out or something. I don’t think he can even hear me.”

“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in ten. Stay there. Do not leave him,” Gibbs ordered tersely, hanging up.

He probably broke every speed limit in the book, but he pulled up at Tony’s apartment building nine minutes later, ran up the stairs, and knocked impatiently on the door. It was opened, and he found himself looking at a diminutive guy with wide, almond-shaped brown eyes and a scared expression on his face.

Gibbs looked the man up and down. He was about twenty-five, with peroxide blond hair, wearing a tight tee shirt, impossibly tight jeans and…Gibbs thought he detected a hint of eyeliner. This must be Terry Dyer – but who the hell was he, and what was he doing in Tony’s apartment?

“Are you Gibbs?” Terry asked, in a drawly, camp tone of voice. “And do you have a first name, honey?”

“Where’s Tony?” Gibbs asked brusquely, brushing past him.

“Oh yeah, you’re Gibbs,” Terry muttered. “He’s in the bedroom. I’ll show you…”

“I know where the damn bedroom is,” Gibbs growled, heading towards it.

He strode through the bedroom door and then stopped dead in his tracks. Tony was sitting on the side of the bed, dressed only in a pair of boxer shorts, and he was staring into space. There was a vacant expression on his face, and he was humming to himself and stroking his hair absently, the way Gibbs had noticed him doing a few times earlier this evening.

“Hey, Tony,” he said softly, crouching down in front of his agent. “You okay?”

Tony made no reply. He just continued staring into space, his eyes blank and empty. Gibbs waved his hand in front of Tony’s face, but there was no reaction.

“How long has he been like this?” Gibbs asked, glancing up at Terry who had followed him into the bedroom.

“About half an hour,” Terry replied. “I didn’t know what to do. I was going to leave but that’s not me, you know? I wouldn’t leave someone in trouble. Besides, he’s a nice guy – and I wasn’t sure what would happen to him if I just left. Is he an epileptic?”

“No,” Gibbs answered shortly. He got up and glared at the diminutive man standing in the doorway. “Now, explain to me – who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?”

~*~

Terry took a step back. While he’d sensed that Tony was dangerous in his own way, this guy here took danger to a new level. Also, what was it with these guys being so tall? He knew he was short, but this man in front of him was almost as tall as Tony. He felt like he’d stumbled into a land of giants. There was one sexy, little-boy-lost giant sitting on the bed, and one grim-faced giant, just as sexy but scary as all hell, looming over him and looking at him like he was a criminal.

Terry wondered if he’d done the right thing calling this stranger. He was so curt and terse. Would Tony thank him for it, he wondered? On the other hand, who the hell did this guy think he was, coming in here and treating Terry like *he’d* done something wrong when all he’d been trying to do was help?

“I told you on the phone, I’m Terry Dyer, I’m a friend of Tony’s and…oh, okay, ‘friend’ might be overstating the case as we only just met tonight but…oh shit, you’re not Tony’s boyfriend, are you?”

Terry knew he was babbling, but he always talked too much when he got nervous, and he was definitely nervous right now. Gibbs gave him a glare so baleful he took a step backwards in alarm.

“No, I’m not Tony’s…boyfriend,” Gibbs growled. Terry relaxed slightly.

“Oh thank GOD,” he said, mock-fanning himself in relief. “Only you’re exactly his type, and I thought if you were his boyfriend, and you found me and him in here together, then you might go crazy. And you’re tall, and, if you don’t mind me saying, pretty damn scary. And I just noticed that you have bruised knuckles, so I’m guessing you’re the kind of guy who likes to solve disputes with his fists, and I’m really…not. That kind of guy. So if you were going to hit me I’d just go straight down. No resistance! So, uh, don’t hit me,” he added, with a nervous laugh.

“His type?” Gibbs interrupted, his forehead wrinkled up into a frown.

“Yeah – you’re the kind of guy he usually picks up in bars; you know - straight-acting tough guys. Older guys. I was surprised when he went for me, but it was late and there weren’t many other guys around, so I guess…well, I’m not selling myself short here, because I happen to think I’m pretty cute, but I guess he had to settle for what he could get at that time of night.”

“Bars?” Gibbs growled. “Gay bars?”

“Well, duh.” Terry rolled his eyes.

“Tony isn’t gay,” Gibbs said blankly. Terry laughed out loud.

“Oh honey!” he giggled, and then he caught the expression in Gibbs’s eyes and the laughter died in his throat. “Well, maybe he isn’t,” he said hurriedly, “But I’ve seen him trawl the bars often enough to know he isn’t 100% straight either. Maybe he’s bi?”

Gibbs turned back to Tony, a puzzled expression on his face. Terry watched as he reached out and gently touched Tony’s shoulder.

“Tony – it’s Gibbs,” he said. “Wake up.”

There was still no response. Tony just kept on staring, and stroking, and humming.

“DiNozzo!” Gibbs rapped out, in a harder tone of voice, making Terry jump. Tony's eyes remained blank. Gibbs rested his hand on Tony’s bare shoulder and then frowned.

“Tony, you’re cold. I’m going to put a blanket around you.”

He grabbed the red velvet blanket from the bed and drew it towards him, and, as he did so, the tube of lubricant and the condom Tony had got out of his night-stand fell onto the floor. Terry winced, and swooped down to pick them up. He flushed, feeling embarrassed, because Gibbs had seen them. Terry doubted there was anything Gibbs didn’t see; the man had eyes like a hawk.

Gibbs wrapped the blanket carefully around Tony’s shoulders – he was much gentler than Terry would have expected of such a terse, grim-faced man. That eased his mind a little about phoning him – whoever this guy was, he obviously genuinely cared about Tony.

“Do you know what’s wrong with him?” Terry asked quietly, replacing the condom and lube on the nightstand with an apologetic smile.

“Yes,” Gibbs replied, and then he frowned slightly. “Well, kind of,” he added grimly.

“Does this happen to him often?”

“No.” Gibbs grabbed Tony’s ceaselessly stroking hand. “Tony, I want you to stop doing that now,” he ordered, in a firm tone of voice. Tony’s hand stopped immediately, in midair.

“Wow – he really responds to you,” Terry said. “I tried doing that, and he just kept on stroking.”

Gibbs took hold of Tony’s arm and moved it down to his side. Tony started rocking gently, back and forth.

“Well, I guess that’s a little better,” Gibbs sighed. He turned back to Terry. “Tell me exactly what happened,” he ordered. “What were you doing right before Tony zoned out?”

“Uh…” Terry flushed. “Well…we were…obviously having sex. Or at least, trying to have sex.”

“Trying?” Gibbs loomed over him, looking angry. “In my experience sex is something you’re either having, or you’re not. Which is it?”

“Not. Tony uh…he couldn’t…” Terry muttered, wondering if he looked as embarrassed as he felt. There was something about this tall, terrifying man that made him feel like he was a stupid, insignificant kid, and he didn’t like that feeling or the kind of men who made him feel this way. He was worth more than this. Gibbs raised an eyebrow at him.

“Had he been drinking?” he asked. Terry shook his head.

“He said he hadn’t. He was upset – he said this had never happened to him before, and I know that’s something guys say, but I believe him. He looked pretty freaked out about it – l mean, he looked really desperate rather than just a bit pissed off. I told him it was okay, and that he was probably just tired, but then he just zoned out on me. He’s been like this ever since.”

“Had he taken any drugs?” Gibbs asked, glancing around the room.

“Not with me!” Terry bristled angrily. “I don’t do that kind of shit. And I didn’t get the vibe that he did, either. I mean, his eyes were kind of glowing, but I didn’t think at any point that he was high. If he was, they were really crap drugs. What’s with all the questions anyway? Are you a cop?”

“I’m a federal agent,” Gibbs replied.

“Oh shit,” Terry hissed, glancing over to the nightstand where he’d emptied out the contents of Tony’s jacket pockets. “You’re not just one of Tony’s friends, are you?” he sighed, catching sight of the NCIS badge he’d found.

“No,” Gibbs agreed. “I’m also his boss.”

“Oh Tony, honey, I’m sorry,” Terry said miserably, kneeling down in front of Tony and gazing at him. “I didn’t know. I mean, who the hell has their *boss* as number one on their speed dial? I don’t even know my boss’s cell phone number, let alone have her on speed dial.”

“You did the right thing,” Gibbs said curtly from behind him.

“I wonder if Tony will think so when he wakes up.”

“I need your name and contact details, and then you can go.”

Terry leaned forward and deposited a tender kiss on Tony’s forehead. He heard Gibbs make a weird little sound in the back of his throat, and got the distinct impression that he didn’t like him touching Tony.

“Good night, handsome prince,” he said softly to Tony. “I hope you’ll be okay. Maybe a kiss from your own Prince Charming will wake you, huh?”

He glanced up at Gibbs who was looking at him like he was a rattlesnake he wanted to shoot. Terry got up, pulled out his wallet, plucked out one of the little personal cards he’d had made to give to guys in bars who asked him for his number, and handed it to Gibbs.

“That’s me,” he said, pointing at the card. “Terry Dyer.”

Gibbs gave it a peremptory look and then pocketed it. “Thank you, Mr. Dyer. I’ll call you if I have any more questions about this case.”

“Tony isn’t a case – he’s a person,” Terry snapped, feeling angry. He’d had a shit night, he was tired, and this guy was really starting to piss him off. “I don’t know what the hell you see in him, Tony honey,” he said, in a flash of anger, glancing at Tony - who continued to gaze off creepily into the distance, taking no notice of him whatsoever.

Gibbs did though – he took a step towards Terry, eyebrows raised in disbelief, looking at him as if he’d gone insane.

“Oh what?” Terry said, with a defiant toss of his head. “Like there’s any way those guys he picks up in bars aren’t all you in his head.”

“Good night, Mr. Dyer,” Gibbs growled. He took hold of Terry’s arm and pushed him unceremoniously towards the door. Terry shook him off, irritably.

“I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure meeting you, but that’d be a lie. You’re not exactly a people person are you, Mr. Gibbs?” Terry snapped.

Gibbs turned towards him, his entire body stiff and intimidating, and shot him a glare that would have had many a grown man quaking in his boots. It cut no ice with Terry. He wasn’t going to be pushed around by anyone. Terry drew himself up to his full height – which admittedly wasn’t very tall – and shot him a glare of his own in response.

“Thank you, Terry,” Terry said. “Thank you for not running out on Tony, thank you for calling me, thank you for staying with Tony until I got here and explaining what happened to him. Sorry you had such a shit night and the hot sex with the very hot guy didn’t happen, but hey, you did the right thing. So thanks.”

Gibbs stared at him for a moment and then those stony blue eyes of his suddenly softened, his body relaxed, and his mouth quirked up into a little grin - and that was when Terry saw it.

“Oh…now I get it,” he said softly. “Now I get what he sees in you.”

Gibbs held out his hand. “Thank you, Terry,” he said, quietly and sincerely. “Thank you for helping Tony.”

Terry took the hand – it was warm, extremely hard, and slightly calloused. Gibbs shook his hand firmly, gazing at Terry from those beautiful blue eyes, and Terry felt himself going ever-so-slightly weak at the knees.

“You’re welcome,” he muttered. “Take good care of Tony – he really is a nice guy. Personally I don’t think you’re good enough for him but…”

A finger was placed over his mouth. “Let’s both quit while we’re ahead shall we?” Gibbs said pleasantly, grasping his shoulder and ushering him firmly but courteously out of the door.

~*~

Gibbs shut the door behind the feisty little guy who had seemed to want to pick a fight with him, reached for his cell phone, and dialled.

He had to wait for several rings and then, finally, a flustered voice answered.

“You do know what time it is, Jethro, don’t you? I thought we’d established that you’d only call me at this time of night in the case of a genuine emergency.”

“It is. I need you, Ducky. Tony’s apartment. Now,” Gibbs said, and then he disconnected.

He returned to the bedroom but there was no change in Tony’s condition. He just sat there, staring blankly into space. At least he wasn’t stroking his hair again – but he was rocking back and forth and humming to himself. Gibbs knelt down in front of him again, rested his hands on Tony’s knees, and gazed into his eyes, looking for something – anything – that would reassure him that Tony was still in there.

“Where are you, Tony?” he asked, waving his hand in front of Tony’s eyes. Tony gave no reaction. “You are full of surprises, DiNozzo. Christ, what a day.”

He hesitated, and then gently stroked Tony’s cheek with the back of his hand.

“First, finding out what you’ve been hiding all these years, and then finding out what you like to do in your spare time – or at least who you like to do it with. I always had you down as straight, Tony – but I guess that was just another thing you wanted us all to believe. Damn it – so much of your time and energy has gone into all this hiding and lying. Aren’t you tired of it?”

There was no reply. He got up and saw the lubricant and condom on the nightstand where Terry had left them. He picked them up and stowed them away in a drawer.

“I’m going to have to tell Ducky about what happened to you when you were a kid, Tony,” he said. “But I’m not going to give away all your secrets.”

He sat down on the side of the bed beside Tony. Then, awkwardly, he put his arm around Tony’s shoulders and squeezed.

“I will get you through this, DiNozzo,” he said. “Just don’t go under – because I don’t know how to reach you wherever you are right now. I can’t follow you there, and I don’t know how to bring you back.”

~*~

Roy was smiling at him, gently petting him all over. Tony lay there unmoving, feeling angry and resentful.

“Do we have to do this now?” he asked petulantly. “You said you were going to take me to the movies.”

“And I will, later. Tonio…do this for me and after I take you to the movies, I’ll buy you those roller skates you wanted - hmm?”

Tony sighed and moved his legs, so Roy could do what he wanted. "You mean it about the skates?" he asked.

"Yes, Tonio…of course…my beautiful boy. Just be good for me, and you can have whatever you like."

Roy beamed at him and then leaned forward and kissed his mouth. Tony hated the taste of cigars, the feel of rough stubble on his chin, and the way Roy's tongue darted between his lips. It made him want to wipe his hand over his mouth, but he knew Roy didn't like it when he did that.

He closed his eyes and thought about what colour roller skates he'd get Roy to buy him afterwards.

~*~

Ducky looked dishevelled and more than a little peeved when Gibbs opened the door to him half an hour later.

“Well, what is it, Jethro?” he demanded, walking in, carrying his medical bag with him. “You said it was an emergency?”

“It is, Duck.”

Gibbs led the ME into Tony’s bedroom, and Ducky paused, glancing at Tony with a quizzical expression on his face.

“Anthony?” he enquired. “Tony?” There was no response. Ducky raised an eyebrow at Gibbs.

“It’s a long story, Ducky,” Gibbs sighed. “I didn’t know if there was something we should be doing for him right now, or if he needs to go to the hospital.”

“How long has he been like this?”

“At least an hour,” Gibbs replied. “It’s happened before but just for a few minutes at a time – I’ve never seen it last this long.”

“My God – are you saying this isn’t the first time…?” Ducky broke off, shaking his head in disbelief. He undid his coat and threw it onto a nearby chair, along with his hat. Then he bustled around, doing various little tests – pulling up Tony’s eyelids, taking his pulse, and all the time muttering under his breath.

Finally, he turned back to Gibbs. “I don’t see there’s any point sending him to the hospital at this stage. He could come around at any minute, and he’s not in any physical danger. But I do think we should make him more comfortable. The boy will end up with a stiff back if he stays like that for much longer. Well don’t just stand there! Help me, Jethro.”

He beckoned Gibbs over, and between them they managed to get Tony into the recovery position, lying on his side on the bed. He went easily enough – he wasn’t stiff or unresponsive. His body uncurled into the position they put it in, and he lay there, still humming and rocking. It was eerie.

Ducky pulled the blanket over him and tucked it in under his chin. “Oh, my poor dear boy,” he sighed. “What on earth has happened to you?” He glanced up at Gibbs. “I think it’s time you told me everything,” he said firmly. “And then we can decide what to do next.”

Gibbs gestured with his head for Ducky to sit in the armchair next to the bed while he sat down on the side of the bed, next to Tony. Then he spent the next fifteen minutes telling Ducky exactly what had happened to Tony – everything he knew, starting with the existence of those photographs, and the entire story of how he’d been sexually abused when he was twelve.

Ducky remained uncharacteristically silent throughout – but his face grew paler and his eyes more watery behind their spectacles as Gibbs continued. When Gibbs finished, Ducky took off his glasses, wiped his eyes, put the glasses back on again, and then gave Gibbs his finest glare.

“You will find these men who hurt Anthony, and when you do you will not be gentle with them, Jethro,” he instructed.

“Oh trust me, Ducky, I have no intention of it,” Gibbs growled. He put his hand on the blanket covering Tony’s shoulder. “Damn it, I shouldn’t have left him on his own tonight. I knew it was a mistake.”

“How did you find him?”

Gibbs hesitated. “He went out after I dropped him off. Picked up someone called Terry in a bar. Terry called me and told me he’d zoned out.”

“Bless Terri,” Ducky said, with a little smile. “That restores my faith in human nature somewhat at least. There are good people out there as well as bad.”

“What’s wrong with him, Ducky?” Gibbs asked.

“I can only make a guess,” Ducky said, glancing over at Tony’s humming, rocking body. “But you said that Tony put these memories into a box in his head and refused to acknowledge them for all these years?”

“That’s what he said to Justin, yes,” Gibbs nodded. “He said he’d found ways of distracting himself.”

“Ah yes…” Ducky gave a sad nod. “Our Anthony is very good at providing distractions, isn’t he? I always did think it strange that such a fun-loving young man spent almost as much time at the office as yourself, Jethro. And then there was all the mischief, and the movies, and the generally frenetic level of activity involved in just being Anthony DiNozzo. And of course, sexual intercourse clearly helped distract him, strange though it may seem given the nature of the abuse, but that’s not uncommon in such cases. And, I would suppose, given how stressful today was for him, it was almost inevitable that he’d go out looking for a young lady to spend the night with tonight.”

Gibbs nodded. He saw no reason to disabuse Ducky of the conclusion he’d jumped to about Terry’s gender.

“But what happens when the distractions don’t work any more?” Ducky mused. “Knowing how determined our Anthony is, I would imagine that he’d redouble his efforts – try harder. Yet, today must have been such a shock for him. It’s one thing to suppress memories for all this time, but quite another to confront photographic evidence of the very memories you’ve been keeping under lock and key. His mind has probably been struggling to cope with the intolerable strain all day.”

“He knew the abuse happened, Duck,” Gibbs said. “He was able to recount it in a fair amount of detail, quite lucidly. It clearly wasn’t easy for him, but he did it. So it’s not like he’s blocked it out.”

“No. I think it’s all rather more subtle and complex than that,” Ducky sighed. “Tony most definitely does know it happened. After all, it’s likely that his whole psyche is constructed on the basis of keeping himself from ever being that boy again – someone who could be hurt, abused, and taken advantage of. You say nobody ever found out about the abuse?”

“No. He tried to tell his father, but he wouldn’t listen. I’m only the second person he’s ever told,” Gibbs said, feeling his jaw tighten as he spoke.

“So it’s been his secret all this time, and he’s been protecting that twelve year old boy inside the best way he knows how. It might not be perfect, but it’s worked for him all these years. It does require him to keep busy – which explains a lot - I think we all know how wearying a bored Anthony DiNozzo can be,” Ducky said wryly. “But those are his coping mechanisms. Then, today, those mechanisms broke down – spectacularly. Firstly he had to talk about the abuse, which meant remembering some of the details he’s been trying to avoid, and then his various means of distraction - such as sex - stopped working for him.”

Gibbs winced, recalling what Terry had said about Tony’s failure in the bedroom and how distraught he’d been about it.

“I don’t understand what this is all about though,” Gibbs said, his hand still resting on Tony’s gently rocking shoulder. “Where is he right now? Is he conscious? Can he hear us? He's definitely not asleep.”

“No, he isn’t,” Ducky sighed. “Oh, Jethro – haven’t you figured it out?”

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

“By suppressing those memories, Tony has given them enormous power,” Ducky said. “If I may use an analogy…”

“You usually do,” Gibbs muttered. Ducky shot him a wry gin.

“Imagine, if you will, that you are on a diet…”

“I’ve never been on a diet, Duck,” Gibbs interrupted irritably. Ducky glared at him. “Okay…I’ll imagine it,” Gibbs grunted.

“If I ask you, right now, NOT to think about chocolate cake…tell me, what is the first thing that you think about?”

“Chocolate cake,” Gibbs retorted immediately.

“It’s a well known psychology experiment,” Ducky said, with a wave of his hands. “Ask someone not to think about something, and usually that’s *all* they can think about. Tony’s coping mechanisms have broken down, his distractions aren’t working because of the shock of today’s events, and those memories have come back with a vengeance. And, because of the enormous power they hold for him - the power he has invested them with - and all the no doubt turbulent emotions he has associated with them, they are stronger and more overwhelming than any normal memory. Strong enough to disconnect him from the present and plunge him back into the past.”

“Ducky…” Gibbs gazed at the ME, horrified. “Are you telling me that’s what’s happening to Tony right now? That he’s re-living those memories?”

Ducky glanced at Tony sadly. “Well, I can’t say for certain, Jethro, but yes, I’m very much afraid that he is.”

~*~

Tony wasn’t sure if he hated Luke or Marco more. Marco hurt him, but Luke scared him.

Luke undressed him while he stood there, sullenly, eyes down. Then Luke pulled him, naked, onto his lap and caressed him firmly, hands sweeping over his body. He talked as he touched him, whispering straight into his ear.

“So Tony – I enjoyed our last little meeting. Do you know what I liked most? I liked it when I stuck it in you, and you squealed like a little piglet. A juicy little piglet. You can squeal again this time if you like. Are you afraid of me, Tony? You should be.”

He *was* afraid. Luke was a tall, broad-shouldered man, with thick, dark hair, and steely grey eyes. His hands were always cold but not as cold as his eyes. Luke placed him onto the bed, on his hands and knees. Tony moaned, and curled up into a tight ball. He hated this. At least Roy stroked him, and told him that he loved him, and that he was a good boy.

Cold hands descended on him, roaming over him, demanding and clinical. He heard the mattress give as Luke knelt on the bed behind him.

“Roy told me you were a good boy, but I’m not seeing much evidence of that right now, Tony. Open up for me…that’s right… Come on - I saw those photos of you, you little slut – I know you can do better than this. That’s it…squeal, little piglet, squeal.”

~*~

“Christ, Ducky.” Gibbs got up and paced around the room. “We have to do something to wake him up.”

“Jethro, you said he’s been in these fugue-like states before and always came out of them by himself.”

“Yeah, but he’s never been out of it for this long before. I don’t pretend to understand how this works, but you didn’t hear his statement earlier, Ducky. Those men raped him repeatedly – one of them raped him so viciously he bled and was scared that he was going to die. It’s bad enough he went through that once, but to re-live it over and over again? While we damn well stand by and watch?” Gibbs slammed his fist against the wall, barely noticing the flash of pain as the movement hurt the self-inflicted wounds of a few hours ago.

Ducky got up, came over to him, and grabbed his right hand. “Do I even want to know how this happened?” he asked, glancing at the torn, bloody flesh and the bruising across the knuckles. Gibbs pulled his hand away. Ducky blinked at him owlishly from behind his glasses. “Jethro, I remember that case with Kyle Boone many years ago; the one that cost you your second marriage. Your fists looked like this a lot then, too,” he said softly. “You always do this when a case gets to you, and of course Tony is so much more to you than just a case.”

“Ducky, it’s not important. I’m fine. I’m more worried about Tony, and how we get him to wake up. Supposing he’s lost inside his own mind and can’t find a way out?”

“I think you should have more faith in the boy, Jethro,” Duck told him gently, glancing over at Tony. “He’s very determined. He might be struggling right now, but I don’t think there’s any way our Anthony will give in without a fight, do you?”

“It shouldn’t be a battle he has to fight alone,” Gibbs growled. “Bad enough that he didn’t have anyone to help him when he was twelve, but I’ll be damned if he has to do it by himself now.”

He went over to the bed and sat down beside Tony. He hesitated for a moment and then reached out and stroked Tony's hair.

“Tony, it’s Gibbs. Listen to me - you’ve been out for long enough. You need to find a way back to us now.”

There was no reaction.

“I mean it, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said in a firmer tone of voice. “Get your ass back here.”

He glanced up at Ducky who was giving him a sad look, as if he thought this approach was very unlikely to work, but Gibbs wasn’t about to give up yet. He remembered a few years ago, when Tony had been fighting for his life with the plague, and how he’d ordered him not to die. Even leaving aside the night’s revelations, and the dubious character insights provided by Terry Dyer, he had always known that Tony worshipped the ground he walked on and would do his best to obey any order he threw at him.

“Tony!” he rapped out. “Come back now. It’s safe here – just me and Ducky.”

He stroked Tony’s hair again and then remembered something else about that time with the plague. He leaned forward and spoke directly into Tony’s ear.

“Tony, wherever you are right now, you will *not* stay there. Understand me? Come back. Now!” He combined the firm crack of that last word with a sharp tap to the back of Tony’s head.

Tony blinked.

~*~

Tony glanced around, disoriented. Last thing he remembered, he’d been sitting on the side of the bed, and now he was lying down and Gibbs was here. Where had his boss come from and what the hell was he doing here?

“Boss?” he muttered, sitting up. He groaned, his back and shoulders aching. He felt stiff. Then he saw Ducky standing by the wall. “Ducky? What the hell is going on?”

“You had another one of your episodes, my dear boy.”

“Episodes?” Tony frowned.

“You were out of it, DiNozzo. Like you were in the parking lot earlier,” Gibbs told him. “And like you were a couple of times during your statement, although just for a few seconds. This time it was longer.”

“How long?” Tony asked quietly.

“A couple of hours,” Gibbs replied. Tony bit on his lip. “You want to tell us what’s going on?”

“Not really.” Tony swung his legs over the side of the bed and then looked down, flushing. He was at least wearing a pair of boxer shorts, but apart from that he was naked.

“You do know…?” Ducky began.

“That I’ve been losing time? Yes, Ducky. I know,” Tony said curtly. “It hasn’t happened in a long while. I thought it was just a temporary blip, and it’d go away again.”

“I don’t think the human brain works quite like that, Anthony,” Ducky murmured. Tony glanced at him sharply, and then at Gibbs for confirmation.

“He knows,” Gibbs said.

Tony knew it had to happen sooner or later, but even so, he felt a wave of impotent fury at the news.

“I’m most terribly sorry, my dear boy,” Ducky said quietly. “I’m also very concerned about your mental state right now.”

“I’ll be fine,” Tony snapped. “I just need some time and space…and I’d really like to be left alone for just a goddamn minute.”

“Out of the question,” Gibbs told him tersely. Tony glared at him.

“What Jethro means is that you were lucky tonight, Anthony,” Ducky said, in a placating tone. “Your lady friend, Terri, had the good sense to call Jethro. Another time you might zone out while taking a bath, or while driving, or in some other potentially hazardous situation.”

“Terry? Oh shit.” Tony buried his head in his hands, remembering. He glanced up at Gibbs who was gazing at him steadily from those steely eyes of his, giving nothing away – as usual. Tony cleared his throat. “What happened to Terry?”

“Gone,” Gibbs replied. “Nice person though,” he added. “Thought the world of you. Didn’t like me for some reason. Told me I wasn’t a ‘people person’.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how to break this to you, Boss, but you don’t always make a great first impression.”

“Tony…” Gibbs gazed at him thoughtfully. “Do you know where you go when you ‘lose time’ as you put it?”

Tony gazed back at him blankly. “I need a drink.”

“I’ll go and get you some water,” Ducky said, disappearing out of the door.

“Lady friend?” Tony queried when he’d gone, raising an eyebrow. Gibbs shrugged.

“I just told him the name – and from there Ducky jumped to his own conclusion.”

“Fuck it!” Tony roared, slamming his hand against the night stand. “Can’t I have any kind of a fucking private life? Does everyone have to know every last damn thing about me?”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Gibbs said. “None of my business.”

“It’s not what you think,” Tony muttered, embarrassed by his outburst. That wasn't like him – usually he managed to keep everything buttoned up and under control. He sure as hell never lost it with Gibbs of all people. “Well, it’s not exactly what you think anyway,” he said quietly. “I’m not lying about the women – there have been plenty of them. I’ve just never mentioned the men – there have been plenty of them too.”

“Okay.” Gibbs shrugged again. “You don’t need to explain anything to me, Tony.”

“I need the sex,” Tony said quietly. “And to be honest it’s never really mattered who it’s with – men or women.”

“Distraction,” Gibbs said. “I understand.”

Ducky returned with a glass of water and Tony took it, his hand shaking slightly as he reached out.

“You didn’t answer my question, Tony,” Gibbs said to him. “Do you know where you go when you lose time?”

Tony swallowed down the entire glass of water in one gulp.

“Yes,” he said, in a tight, pinched voice. “I know exactly where I go.”

~*~

Ducky looked from Tony to Gibbs and back again. Gibbs looked both furious and appalled at one and the same time, and Tony – well Tony looked scared and oddly defensive. Ducky's heart went out to them both, and he decided it was time that he took charge of the situation.

“Look, it’s practically dawn, and you look terrible – both of you,” he admonished. “Anthony – you need some sleep. I’d really prefer you not to fugue again, so I’d like to administer a sedative if that’s alright with you, my boy? It would give your poor brain a rest and allow you to recover.”

“Oblivion sounds just great to me right now, Ducky,” Tony muttered, still gazing wretchedly at Gibbs.

“And you, Jethro,” Ducky said firmly. “I know you like to pretend you don’t need any sleep, and yes, I also know that you can keep going for days on end with just the occasional catnap. Now, I’m sure that’s a very special and vital sniper skill and so forth, but everyone needs sleep. Therefore, I suggest that you go home and catch a couple of hours' rest, while I stay here and watch over Anthony.”

Gibbs didn’t look happy about that, but Ducky managed to quell any incipient rebellion with a glare.

“I really don’t intend to take no for an answer,” he said. “From either of you.” He turned to glare at Tony as well – he didn’t seem too happy to hear that he’d have company while he slept. “I will be staying,” Ducky said in a tone that brooked no argument. “You won’t hear a peep out of me. I’ll sit on the chair over there.” He gestured to the armchair next to the bed.

Gibbs grunted and then got up. “Get some sleep,” he said to Tony. He grasped Ducky’s arm and led him out into the hallway. “Do not leave him,” he said. “At any point. For any reason.”

“I can assure you, Jethro, I’m quite capable…” Ducky began. Gibbs cut him off.

“He ditched McGee earlier. He might be looking all pale and pathetic right now, but he’s still *Tony*, which means…”

“That he has an inventive mind and the ability to dissemble rather well. I know, dear boy, I know. I have known our dear Anthony for quite as long as you, and I know all his admirable and also less than admirable little traits and foibles. Don’t worry about us, Jethro. I will ensure that Anthony gets some sleep – I simply ask that you go home and do the same.”

“I will.” Gibbs glanced back at the bedroom door again and then left. Ducky went to get another glass of water from the kitchen, and then he returned to the bedroom.

He opened up his medical bag, got out the sedatives, and handed them to Tony.

“I always come prepared,” he said, giving Tony the glass of water. “Whenever Jethro calls me in the middle of the night, it’s either because he’s found a dead body or there’s someone requiring medical assistance. I’ve therefore learned to come prepared for the dead or the living.”

“Or someone who’s a bit of both,” Tony muttered wryly, throwing the pills into his mouth and gulping down the water.

Ducky gazed at him sadly. “Ah, my dear boy, I very much want to keep you in the land of the living,” he said softly. He watched as Tony slid back into the bed and pulled a sheet and blanket over himself. “I’ll be here, Anthony,” he said, turning off the light. He sat down in the armchair beside the bed.

“Seems kind of weird – someone watching me sleep, Duck,” Tony muttered.

“It won’t bother you for long, my dear boy,” Ducky replied softly. “Those are very good sedatives. Before long you will be…”

He broke off as he heard Tony’s breathing change, and a gentle snore emerged from under the blanket.

“I really am most terribly sorry about all this, Anthony,” Ducky said softly, knowing his patient was asleep. “I fear that I may have misjudged you. Of course that was precisely what you wanted, I’m sure. Far better that we all saw a clown than that we caught a glimpse of that vulnerable young boy you must still be underneath. And yet I do blame myself – you see, I often *did* see glimpses and chose to ignore them, like pieces of a puzzle that I discarded because they didn’t fit the preconceived image of it that I held in my head.”

He clasped his hands together in his lap and gazed at Tony’s sleeping form.

“I’ve always been aware of your somewhat complex personality, my dear boy,” he continued. “I’m afraid I completely misdiagnosed you when I told Jethro that you were a narcissist not so long ago, and I feel I absolutely must apologise to you for that. In fact, I suspect you might be the complete opposite. What you are, what you *really* are, far from being so obviously on display for all to see and judge, is actually very well hidden.”

Ducky reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of mints. He popped one into his mouth. “I suppose we all present a face to the world,” he mused, as he sucked quietly on the mint. “We all wear a mask that we want the world to see to a certain extent, but I doubt that many people’s masks are as carefully constructed as yours, my dear Anthony. Yours is really a work of art – a thing of quite considerable beauty in its own way. I do not mean to imply that you have been deliberately deceiving us all this time. I doubt that is the case at all.” He shook his head in the darkness, one ear listening for the deep rise and fall of Tony’s chest as he slumbered.

“You were simply forming a defence, lest anyone get too close. You see, I really do believe that adult Tony is doing his best to protect that child who was so cruelly used, and if he has to spin a rather elaborate web of subterfuge to do so then that is simply what he *has* to do. There are some things one cannot hide of course. Your sense of empathy has always been well known to me, and your courage and loyalty cannot be faulted. These features shine through. For the rest? I suspect we barely know you – the real you – at all. And for that, Anthony, I truly am very sorry.”

~*~

End of Damage - Part Two: Darkness
Friendly feedback adored!
Damage - Part Three: Disintegration - 1/3