There Loomed An Ogre - 13/?
They walked back in silence, Tony trailing along beside a Gibbs who seemed content to just let him be. The anger had disappeared back into the dark crevice it came from; the panic was distant, and muted, and under his control again. At least for as long as they ambled along in clean night air and undemanding silence.
The muscles in his legs protested with every step, but he didn’t mind that. It gave him something ordinary to concentrate on. Without that, he’d have to look Gibbs’ last comment full in the eye, and he wasn’t ready for that. Just thinking about it obliquely was more than enough. So it pottered around the edges of his thoughts, occasionally catching at his attention. Just there.
He’d made it sound so solid. Certain. Final. Enough so that he’d ended up trotting along home without actually engaging in the decision, at any rate.
Then again, that might have been the point.
To be fair, it did seem like a very convoluted way of getting him in line when the man could have just marched up to him, made a couple of pointed growls and glared him out with a lot less hanging around.
He was at a loss. None of this was making any sense. Although really, why should it when nothing else about his life did recently?
He could feel his hard won equilibrium beginning to falter again, and put the comment away for consideration at a later time, when he was alone and could examine it at leisure. He wanted to enjoy the peace for now. Because it couldn’t last; no doubt once they got back to the apartment the verbal fencing would start up again, as his boss started chasing after answers he didn’t have and couldn’t give, and had no intentions of letting go of in any case.
Right. Who did he think he was fooling? If Gibbs chose to carry on pushing, he really didn’t think he could find any more energy to keep fighting him off. He’d lost it all somewhere, in the running, or in the silence, and he felt utterly exhausted. Shattered, that was the word.
He was shattered.
***
The calm lasted right up until they got back to the apartment. Gibbs unlocked and opened up, leading the way. After three steps, he turned back when there was no movement behind him.
“Tony?”
I can’t. Not in there. Not where he’d…
He could feel the strangest echo of that all-consuming flame of anger, like it was there, looking at him, but just out of reach. Like if he tried, he could reach out, and grasp it and make it part of him again. He could use it as a shield against the doubts and the hurt. He could drown them all in a sea of endless red, of fire and blood and…
“DiNozzo! Hyperventilating will not help!”
Of course it wouldn’t, but it didn’t seem to be quite that easy to get the message through. Instead he just stared back at the older man through the doorframe, and realised that at some point while he was off in a violent fantasy land, his body had shot out of control again. It was a feeling he loathed, and it was happening altogether too often. Three times, tonight? More? He’d stopped counting. Too close to reality.
He could feel the sweat rolling down his spine, and the discomfort in his chest. Could hear his own dragging, rasping breaths, like something out of a horror movie. Dizziness was on the rise, and oh God, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get air, couldn’t...
Yes you can, Tony. Done this before. Just don’t think about it. Think about something else. Let it pass. It will pass. It always passes.
Hadn’t had a panic attack in years. Not since…
Actually, probably as well not to go there right now. It wasn’t exactly going to help.
He didn’t resist at all when a pair of large hands took his shoulders and moved him through the problem door and into the apartment. Distantly he could hear the murmur of a voice, and he realised Gibbs was still talking to him, even if he hadn’t caught the words.
A few moments later he was abruptly manhandled onto the couch, and his head pressed between his knees.
“Breathe. That’s an order.”
He wanted to complain, point out that it didn’t work like that, and demand to know if the other man believed that the world would stop spinning if he told it to, but completely against all sense, his body had turned traitor and was obeying anyway.
Perversely, that managed to both make him feel better and piss him off in equal measures.
He heard feet retreating, and allowed himself to wallow in the nothingness for a few minutes. He carefully kept his mind blank, knowing from experience that if he concentrated on the physical, he’d only make things worse. Instead, he let himself drift along on a cloud of nothingness.
It was well on the way to being over when the footsteps returned, accompanied by more coffee smells, and he reluctantly floated back down again.
“Don’t even think about moving.”
How did he know? He was distracted from the question by a mug appearing in his vision, and he took it without thought. Then he breathed in, smelt chocolate and felt the knots in his spine and his stomach give way just a little more.
Nevertheless, he made sure to wait long enough to prove that he was listening, before sitting up and drinking.
He could feel the warmth seeping in from both the mug and the drink, and it was only then that he realised just how cold he’d gotten. He held on a little tighter and took a few deeper breaths, trying to absorb the sweetness through air alone; and was very glad to find that everything seemed to be back on track again.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
***
They sat there for a while, until the last notes of the attack were long gone, the shivering had all but stopped, and the peace was hovering almost within touching distance again. Then Gibbs broke the silence.
“Why Boston?”
There was neither inflection or accusation, just question.
“Why not?” He got an impatient look for that, and shrugged his shoulders. “Seriously. Why not?”
“You just stuck your finger on a map?”
“No. I made a few calls, sent a couple of applications, and waited to see if there were any bites.”
“You thought you’d hang a CV like yours out there and there’d be no interest?”
“Didn’t know.”
He stared at him for a moment, before carrying on. “So, if it wasn’t about going to Boston…”
He sighed, knowing that Gibbs wouldn’t give up until he’d got some answers. “It was about leaving DC.”
“You are running.”
Did he have to sound so… so… so Gibbs about it? “If you want to look at it like that.”
“I don’t know how to look at it. You won’t tell me.”
Apparently the quiet portion of the evening was over. Shame. He’d been as near to relaxed as he could remember recently. He wasn’t ready to commence battle yet.
“Do we have to start this again?”
Blue eyes looked at him with something frighteningly close to sympathy. “Yes.”
Helpful. Two could play that game. “Why?”
“Because this isn’t about your job, Tony. Its about you. I meant what I said - I’m not gonna give up on you. No matter what.”
He didn’t want to hear that. He couldn’t even process it, much less deal with it, so he chose to ignore it.
“I wasn’t giving you a say.”
“Having one anyway.”
“Got that.”
He found himself being studied yet again, and he had to fight not to squirm like a kid under the direct gaze. He was about ready to scream before Gibbs spoke.
“Come on, Tony. Give me a chance here.”
What was it about the man that made him completely impervious to the fact that Tony had no intention of rolling over and exposing his weaknesses just because Gibbs thought he should? Three weeks ago, maybe. But now?
“Forget it McGee. He’s still alive.”
Friends? He could tell Gibbs had meant it. Didn’t change the fact that apparently they had widely differing definitions of the word.
Did he have friends? He’d thought so.
No. Not exactly. He’d wanted it to be so. He’d felt like he was on the inside for a change, and he’d been stupid enough to let his guard down. Taken a leap of faith instead of working from the evidence. Trusted them; opened up to other people for the first time in a long time. He’d offered that chance, and it hadn’t been easy. And it wasn’t taken. It wasn’t wanted. He wasn’t wanted.
And now he wasn’t being sufficiently co-operative?
“A chance? A chance to what? A chance to tell me what a mess I’m making of my own life? A chance to remind me I’m not good enough for your team? A chance to keep me running too and fro on hot coals until you decide I’ve outlived my usefulness and can kick me out on your own terms? His voice had gotten louder as he gave rein to his frustration, and the other man didn’t interrupt, instead dropping his gaze to the floor, where it stayed.
He paused for a moment, the flood of words temporarily stopped by the fact he quite simply couldn’t think of anything to say that could make the slightest dent in that damned self-assurance.
He waited for the comeback, the put down, the anger, but none was forthcoming. Instead, his boss just sat there, leaning his forearms on his knees, staring at the carpet.
No way was he going to get away with ignoring whatever he didn’t feel like answering if Tony had anything to do with it. “For fuck’s sake, boss! Quit with the dancing and give me the bottom line. Just what exactly is it you want from me?”
There was still no response, and he felt a small stir of unease at Gibbs refusing to behave like Gibbs. How he was supposed to keep on top of things if people insisted on going off script, he didn’t know.
Still, at least the subject was over. He got up to find the remote for the CD before the silence got oppressive, and as a result, damn near missed the one word answer he got.
“Absolution.”