Fic Commentary: The Widening Gyre
A 'Broken Tony' story. Or is it?
Title: The Widening Gyre
Pairing/Warning/Rating: NCIS fandom, no spoilers, rated G
Word Count: 1123
Beta: mad_jaks
Summary: Tony was still capable of surprising Gibbs- and teaching him a thing or two about life as well. I easily spent an hour coming up with that summary. I didn't want to give away too much, but didn't want to shock/surprise readers either. I settled for this summary and using a quote in the lj cut that made it obvious this wasn't the Gibbs and Tony from immediate canon.
Author's Note: The title comes from the Yeats poem "The Second Coming." Titles are also hard for me. I wanted to convey the idea that things can change and my mind went to the line from the poem "things fall apart, the center can not hold," and the excellent book by that title by Chinua Achebe. But I wanted a twist- the idea that things can fall apart and become something so entirely different that you can barely recognize them, but that different isn't always terrible. Change is what you make of it, after all.
Gibbs knocked and then waited, not patiently, but he waited nonetheless. A full three minutes passed before he heard the familiar clop- drag- skip that signaled Tony was making his way to the door. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. He wasn’t about to let the stresses of his day intrude here. I wanted to immediately clue the reader into the fact that the Tony in this story was not the Tony they might expect, that something had happened. My description of how he walked came from thinking back on a few people I knew who had mobility issues.
“W-w-who is it?”
Gibbs smiled. Everyday, the same question. “It’s me, Tony.”
“Boss?”
“You're supposed to check who it is before you unlock the door,” Gibbs said as he heard the deadbolt come off. “Did you look through the peephole?” Gibbs is such a mother hen. In canon he hides it, but it still sneaks out on occassion (the moment in "Twilight" where he demands Tony eat the Chinese food comes to mind.)
“No,” Tony announced as the threw the door open. “But I di'n’t need to. Y’re the only one that g-g-growls like that. Besides, it’s down-and-over and you always come when the clock says down-and-over.” I'm not sure where I came up with the idea for Tony's time telling abilities, it wasn't originally part of the story (there had been more of a focus of his adventures with Mr. Joe the storekeeper) but suddenly I had one of those 'light bulb' moments and there it was.
Before Jethro could process that statement Tony threw his good arm around him for a hug. “Hey, Tony.” Gibbs returned the hug with equal force. “You going to let me in?” he asked when Tony made no move to let go. I snuck in mention of the 'good arm' here, further illustrating that Tony was "damaged" in some way.
“Course I am, Boss. That’s why I opened the door,” Tony answered, his head still buried in Gibbs’ shoulder. Tony is a physical person, in my mind that's why he likes the headslaps so much. The hug and his head being buried also gives Tony a more child-like, or at least less manly man, persona.
Right, always expect a literal response. He knew that, but it was too easy to forget sometimes. “I meant that we should get out off the porch and go inside so we don’t let all this cold air in.” I'm a big fan of showing instead of telling in my stories. Here I was trying to get across several things: whatever happened to Tony was awhile ago, Gibbs has been with him the whole way, and Tony's condition (whatever exactly it is) isn't going to improve a whole lot. This also shows more of Gibbs' paternal side, which we usually only see through how he treats Abby.
“Oh.” Tony looked up, a sheepish smile on his face. “G-g-good idea,” he said as he released Gibbs from the hug. As soon as they were inside however, Tony grabbed Gibbs’ wrist, pulling him after him as he lurched into the hall. “I have something to show you!” Tony's happy. He's excited to see Gibbs and doesn't fret over his misinterpretation of what Gibbs had just said.
“Let me get my coat off first.” Gibbs twisted his arm gently, slipping out of Tony’s grasp with practiced ease. “Tony, what’s down-and-over?” Here, again, I'm showing some of the history between Tony and Gibbs. Tony's grabbed Gibbs like that before and Gibbs isn't surprised or concerned by it. He doesn't even mention it.
“S’what the big clock in the den says when you get here. The alarm beeps at down-and-up to remind me to eat dinner. I’m usually done by down-and-down. Then I clean up like I’m supposed to and by the time I'm finished it’s down-and-over and that’s when you come! ‘Cept on the days you don’t come. But I like the days you do come better.” Numbers no longer meant anything to Tony; the various therapists had worked out a system of alarms and phone calls to keep him on a schedule when he was by himself. Gibbs hadn’t realized Tony had figured out his own way of telling time. He should have though, Tony was always one for figuring out his own way of doing things. Minor info dump here, but I liked Tony's babbly excitement over his telling time. Gibbs is also showing how much he knows about Tony's life these days with the therapists and whatnot.
“So, down-and-up is...?”
Tony didn't answer right away. Instead he bit his lip and carefully set his feet, shifting his weight. Having seen Tony fall over more times than he cared to remember Gibbs knew better than to interrupt whatever Tony was doing. Even on Tony's best days his balance was precarious to say the least. Once happy with his positioning, his good leg directly under him, Tony lifted his left arm straight up over his head while his right arm dangled limply, pointing at the floor. “Like this! Well, sorta anyway.” mad_jaks really helped me work on how to word this paragraph to have it present the image I was going for. Tony's got mobility issues, he tries to work around them and Gibbs is a little hesitant as a result, but accepts it.
“No, you did it fine. So, this is when I come?” Gibbs simulated six forty-five with his hands.
“Yeah. You’re good at telling time, Boss.”
Tony seemed so sincere that Gibbs chuckled. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”
“Is that ‘cause you’re old and g-g-grey? Mr. Joe’s old too but he tells time different. He uses numbers. He says he never saw no one tell time my way before.” And here's my introduction of Mr. Joe. The original story focused much more around him, and Tony's neighbors in general.
Mr. Johansson ran the corner store at the end of the block. Now that Tony was doing better he’d started walking down there on his own. At first Gibbs had been worried about Tony bothering the storekeeper too much, especially since he rarely remembered to take money with him. Not even when he going there specifically to buy his daily candy bar. But, Mr. Johansson told Gibbs that he didn’t mind, explaining that Tony had helped him out a lot before and he’d considered this his chance to return the favor. Mr. Joe was a good man. The last line here seems very Gibbs to me.
“I guess that makes you special.” Gibbs reached out to ruffle Tony’s hair. Awww. I wrote this bit because I like the image, but also because it reinforces the parental role Gibbs is now playing in Tony's life.
“Guess it does.” Tony laughed, leaning briefly into Gibbs’ hand.
“So, what did you want to show me?”
Gibbs couldn't help but notice the slight hesitation as Tony’s brow furrowed as he tried to remember what he'd been so excited about just a short time earlier. Moments like that always hit Gibbs hard, like an ice cold hand clenching his gut. It reminded him how much had been lost, how much had changed, and how much he hated having to accept it. Even if, and perhaps most ironically, those moments slipped by without seeming to bother Tony at all. This is the key bit to the entire story, the entire verse (if I were to ever write more). Tony is happy. He's content. Maybe he doesn't remember his life before, maybe he does. Maybe he is aware of his mobility or memory issues, maybe he's not. But it doesn't bother him. Gibbs has probably punched many, many walls and spent far too many hours with his boat since this happened to Tony, but he can't dwell on it. Or that's what he keeps telling himself.
“Oh yeah!” Tony laughed, and he grabbed Gibbs’ arm tightly. “You’re g-g-gonna love this!” he yelled as he clop- drag- skipped into the kitchen, dragging Gibbs behind him. “Maggie showed me how to make coffee so it’ll be strong enough for you. See? We put another scoop in here, a special scoop, just for you.” He held it up. “So now when I make coffee I use the red scoop and the white scoop and the brown scoop but when you’re here I use the blue scoop too. And I don’t have to try to mess with the water pitcher, I can just pour the whole thing in. The water’s the same, but there’s the extra blue scoop of coffee to make it nice and strong for you.” I'm only vaguely aware of what occupational therapists do, but someone explained to me once that while physical therapists help get past trauma to bring you to a place where you can manage better physically the occupational therapists help you with the everyday things you need to do to live your life as you are now. Since I'd established earlier that Tony couldn't count I had to come up with a way for him to still prepare coffee so that's how the various spoons came to be.
Maggie was Tony’s occupational therapist. Gibbs had liked her, even before she’d figured out a way to ensure Tony’s coffee was to his taste. “So I assume that means I’m getting some coffee tonight?” We all know how important coffee is to Gibbs. Although I'm sure he hadn't complained too much about Tony's earlier attempts at coffee, even if it was weaker than he'd have liked.
“Remember what you say about assuming, Boss.” Tony waggled a finger inches from Gibbs’ face.
“I remember. But you need to remember what happens when you get between a marine and his coffee.” For a second the familiar banter made Gibbs flash back on the days, the years, when he and Tony would be stuck on a case, and how no matter the time or place Tony would know how to ease the tension with a joke or comment and pull Gibbs back from the verge of cracking and get him able to focus on the matter at hand again. Another one of those moments for Gibbs. No matter how well he was accepting what had happened, they would still creep up from time to time.
“I don’t know about a marine, but I think you g-g-get g-g-grumpy when you don’t have coffee. Am I right, Boss?” I left this open so that you could choose to read that Tony was unaware Gibbs had been a marine if you wanted.
Gibbs looked up in time to see Tony’s smile broaden, his face lighting up. Whenever Gibbs found himself cursing the events that brought them here he tried to focus on that smile. The past couldn’t be changed, but Tony, this Tony, was happy and content in the present. “You sure are, Tony. You sure are.” And there's that smile, reassuring Gibbs and the reader that yes, Tony is different, but we shouldn't force *our* opinions of that different on him. He's happy and we need to accept that.
Many people asked about what happened to Tony, how he got like this. And to be truthful, I have *no* idea. I didn't want to bog down the story with a long winded info dump about what happened and when and all that jazz, so I left it open for the reader to fill in the blanks however they wished. I'm sure whatever you came up with was great.
Title: The Widening Gyre
Pairing/Warning/Rating: NCIS fandom, no spoilers, rated G
Word Count: 1123
Beta: mad_jaks
Summary: Tony was still capable of surprising Gibbs- and teaching him a thing or two about life as well. I easily spent an hour coming up with that summary. I didn't want to give away too much, but didn't want to shock/surprise readers either. I settled for this summary and using a quote in the lj cut that made it obvious this wasn't the Gibbs and Tony from immediate canon.
Author's Note: The title comes from the Yeats poem "The Second Coming." Titles are also hard for me. I wanted to convey the idea that things can change and my mind went to the line from the poem "things fall apart, the center can not hold," and the excellent book by that title by Chinua Achebe. But I wanted a twist- the idea that things can fall apart and become something so entirely different that you can barely recognize them, but that different isn't always terrible. Change is what you make of it, after all.
Gibbs knocked and then waited, not patiently, but he waited nonetheless. A full three minutes passed before he heard the familiar clop- drag- skip that signaled Tony was making his way to the door. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. He wasn’t about to let the stresses of his day intrude here. I wanted to immediately clue the reader into the fact that the Tony in this story was not the Tony they might expect, that something had happened. My description of how he walked came from thinking back on a few people I knew who had mobility issues.
“W-w-who is it?”
Gibbs smiled. Everyday, the same question. “It’s me, Tony.”
“Boss?”
“You're supposed to check who it is before you unlock the door,” Gibbs said as he heard the deadbolt come off. “Did you look through the peephole?” Gibbs is such a mother hen. In canon he hides it, but it still sneaks out on occassion (the moment in "Twilight" where he demands Tony eat the Chinese food comes to mind.)
“No,” Tony announced as the threw the door open. “But I di'n’t need to. Y’re the only one that g-g-growls like that. Besides, it’s down-and-over and you always come when the clock says down-and-over.” I'm not sure where I came up with the idea for Tony's time telling abilities, it wasn't originally part of the story (there had been more of a focus of his adventures with Mr. Joe the storekeeper) but suddenly I had one of those 'light bulb' moments and there it was.
Before Jethro could process that statement Tony threw his good arm around him for a hug. “Hey, Tony.” Gibbs returned the hug with equal force. “You going to let me in?” he asked when Tony made no move to let go. I snuck in mention of the 'good arm' here, further illustrating that Tony was "damaged" in some way.
“Course I am, Boss. That’s why I opened the door,” Tony answered, his head still buried in Gibbs’ shoulder. Tony is a physical person, in my mind that's why he likes the headslaps so much. The hug and his head being buried also gives Tony a more child-like, or at least less manly man, persona.
Right, always expect a literal response. He knew that, but it was too easy to forget sometimes. “I meant that we should get out off the porch and go inside so we don’t let all this cold air in.” I'm a big fan of showing instead of telling in my stories. Here I was trying to get across several things: whatever happened to Tony was awhile ago, Gibbs has been with him the whole way, and Tony's condition (whatever exactly it is) isn't going to improve a whole lot. This also shows more of Gibbs' paternal side, which we usually only see through how he treats Abby.
“Oh.” Tony looked up, a sheepish smile on his face. “G-g-good idea,” he said as he released Gibbs from the hug. As soon as they were inside however, Tony grabbed Gibbs’ wrist, pulling him after him as he lurched into the hall. “I have something to show you!” Tony's happy. He's excited to see Gibbs and doesn't fret over his misinterpretation of what Gibbs had just said.
“Let me get my coat off first.” Gibbs twisted his arm gently, slipping out of Tony’s grasp with practiced ease. “Tony, what’s down-and-over?” Here, again, I'm showing some of the history between Tony and Gibbs. Tony's grabbed Gibbs like that before and Gibbs isn't surprised or concerned by it. He doesn't even mention it.
“S’what the big clock in the den says when you get here. The alarm beeps at down-and-up to remind me to eat dinner. I’m usually done by down-and-down. Then I clean up like I’m supposed to and by the time I'm finished it’s down-and-over and that’s when you come! ‘Cept on the days you don’t come. But I like the days you do come better.” Numbers no longer meant anything to Tony; the various therapists had worked out a system of alarms and phone calls to keep him on a schedule when he was by himself. Gibbs hadn’t realized Tony had figured out his own way of telling time. He should have though, Tony was always one for figuring out his own way of doing things. Minor info dump here, but I liked Tony's babbly excitement over his telling time. Gibbs is also showing how much he knows about Tony's life these days with the therapists and whatnot.
“So, down-and-up is...?”
Tony didn't answer right away. Instead he bit his lip and carefully set his feet, shifting his weight. Having seen Tony fall over more times than he cared to remember Gibbs knew better than to interrupt whatever Tony was doing. Even on Tony's best days his balance was precarious to say the least. Once happy with his positioning, his good leg directly under him, Tony lifted his left arm straight up over his head while his right arm dangled limply, pointing at the floor. “Like this! Well, sorta anyway.” mad_jaks really helped me work on how to word this paragraph to have it present the image I was going for. Tony's got mobility issues, he tries to work around them and Gibbs is a little hesitant as a result, but accepts it.
“No, you did it fine. So, this is when I come?” Gibbs simulated six forty-five with his hands.
“Yeah. You’re good at telling time, Boss.”
Tony seemed so sincere that Gibbs chuckled. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”
“Is that ‘cause you’re old and g-g-grey? Mr. Joe’s old too but he tells time different. He uses numbers. He says he never saw no one tell time my way before.” And here's my introduction of Mr. Joe. The original story focused much more around him, and Tony's neighbors in general.
Mr. Johansson ran the corner store at the end of the block. Now that Tony was doing better he’d started walking down there on his own. At first Gibbs had been worried about Tony bothering the storekeeper too much, especially since he rarely remembered to take money with him. Not even when he going there specifically to buy his daily candy bar. But, Mr. Johansson told Gibbs that he didn’t mind, explaining that Tony had helped him out a lot before and he’d considered this his chance to return the favor. Mr. Joe was a good man. The last line here seems very Gibbs to me.
“I guess that makes you special.” Gibbs reached out to ruffle Tony’s hair. Awww. I wrote this bit because I like the image, but also because it reinforces the parental role Gibbs is now playing in Tony's life.
“Guess it does.” Tony laughed, leaning briefly into Gibbs’ hand.
“So, what did you want to show me?”
Gibbs couldn't help but notice the slight hesitation as Tony’s brow furrowed as he tried to remember what he'd been so excited about just a short time earlier. Moments like that always hit Gibbs hard, like an ice cold hand clenching his gut. It reminded him how much had been lost, how much had changed, and how much he hated having to accept it. Even if, and perhaps most ironically, those moments slipped by without seeming to bother Tony at all. This is the key bit to the entire story, the entire verse (if I were to ever write more). Tony is happy. He's content. Maybe he doesn't remember his life before, maybe he does. Maybe he is aware of his mobility or memory issues, maybe he's not. But it doesn't bother him. Gibbs has probably punched many, many walls and spent far too many hours with his boat since this happened to Tony, but he can't dwell on it. Or that's what he keeps telling himself.
“Oh yeah!” Tony laughed, and he grabbed Gibbs’ arm tightly. “You’re g-g-gonna love this!” he yelled as he clop- drag- skipped into the kitchen, dragging Gibbs behind him. “Maggie showed me how to make coffee so it’ll be strong enough for you. See? We put another scoop in here, a special scoop, just for you.” He held it up. “So now when I make coffee I use the red scoop and the white scoop and the brown scoop but when you’re here I use the blue scoop too. And I don’t have to try to mess with the water pitcher, I can just pour the whole thing in. The water’s the same, but there’s the extra blue scoop of coffee to make it nice and strong for you.” I'm only vaguely aware of what occupational therapists do, but someone explained to me once that while physical therapists help get past trauma to bring you to a place where you can manage better physically the occupational therapists help you with the everyday things you need to do to live your life as you are now. Since I'd established earlier that Tony couldn't count I had to come up with a way for him to still prepare coffee so that's how the various spoons came to be.
Maggie was Tony’s occupational therapist. Gibbs had liked her, even before she’d figured out a way to ensure Tony’s coffee was to his taste. “So I assume that means I’m getting some coffee tonight?” We all know how important coffee is to Gibbs. Although I'm sure he hadn't complained too much about Tony's earlier attempts at coffee, even if it was weaker than he'd have liked.
“Remember what you say about assuming, Boss.” Tony waggled a finger inches from Gibbs’ face.
“I remember. But you need to remember what happens when you get between a marine and his coffee.” For a second the familiar banter made Gibbs flash back on the days, the years, when he and Tony would be stuck on a case, and how no matter the time or place Tony would know how to ease the tension with a joke or comment and pull Gibbs back from the verge of cracking and get him able to focus on the matter at hand again. Another one of those moments for Gibbs. No matter how well he was accepting what had happened, they would still creep up from time to time.
“I don’t know about a marine, but I think you g-g-get g-g-grumpy when you don’t have coffee. Am I right, Boss?” I left this open so that you could choose to read that Tony was unaware Gibbs had been a marine if you wanted.
Gibbs looked up in time to see Tony’s smile broaden, his face lighting up. Whenever Gibbs found himself cursing the events that brought them here he tried to focus on that smile. The past couldn’t be changed, but Tony, this Tony, was happy and content in the present. “You sure are, Tony. You sure are.” And there's that smile, reassuring Gibbs and the reader that yes, Tony is different, but we shouldn't force *our* opinions of that different on him. He's happy and we need to accept that.
Many people asked about what happened to Tony, how he got like this. And to be truthful, I have *no* idea. I didn't want to bog down the story with a long winded info dump about what happened and when and all that jazz, so I left it open for the reader to fill in the blanks however they wished. I'm sure whatever you came up with was great.