A/N: I can't believe it's almost been six months to the day since the last part of this was posted. I bet many of you thought I had abandoned this verse. But alas! I have not. Finally, after months of hard work and extreme writers block concerning this story, I am presenting you with the sixth, and last piece to the first multi-chapter verse I ever did for NCIS. It has been a wonderful experience, and I hope you all are happy with this story. Once again, thank you so much for all your kind words and for the people who sent PMs, which kindly kicked me in the behind to get this story started. Without further adieu, the last story to the Leaving Rhapsody!Verse.
Finishing: Something that completes, concludes, or perfects; to arrive at or attain the end
Rhyme: identity in sound of some part, especially at the end
It was dark, when he opened his eyes.
Somewhere out there, he could hear the voices.
Faster…Slow down….Coming for….Hurry….
He stood shakily to his feet. Everything hurt. He didn't understand. His arm wasn't working right and it felt as if someone was inside his brain, playing with the controls to his hearing.
Coming….Look….Over there…..Find him….Bring him back…..
Who was out there? What had he done? Were they looking for him? Why? What had he done?
He used the hand that didn't hurt to pat himself down. He searched quickly and blindly. It was dark. Voices were all around him and someone was coming, looking for him.
Kick his butt…..Find him….Shoot him….Look….
He stumbled back, biting down hard on his lower lip to keep the scream of pain in his throat. He searched faster, coming up on an ID of some sort. It was too dark to see it really good but he could make out the first name.
Kill him….Tony's out…..
Anthony set the ID down, continuing his search.
"Look…here!" a voice rang out, about fifty yards away from where Anthony stood. Why couldn't he hear right?
Anthony stood. He had to move. He couldn't let them catch him.
Hurry Anthony, before you father…
Anthony, my dear boy, why in such a rush…
Anthony grabbed his head with his hands. Too many voices. Too loud but too soft. His head hurt. Everything hurt.
Hurry Anthony. They're getting closer.
Anthony please, do listen…
"Stop stop stop," Anthony whispered. It hurt. He didn't understand what was happening...he didn't-there were too many voices, too many noises everywhere. He didn't know what to do. His head hurt and nothing was right.
So Anthony turned his back and ran.
Tony opened his eyes and gasped, the old familiar nightmare taking his breath away just like it did every time he happened to dream it.
It didn't happen often, not anymore at least, but every time it did, Tony knew what to expect.
Soon, Tony's back muscles would spasm. They did so every time Tony tensed his muscles, something he had a habit of doing when he woke up of a particularly nasty dream.
Sure enough, Tony bit his lip as the lower back started to tighten. It was gonna hurt.
Brooke, who had more than likely woken up when Tony had woken up gasping, rolled over and placed her hand on Tony's chest.
"You okay?" she asked quietly, mindful of the other person sleeping in their room.
Tony hummed his answer, not fully trusting himself to open his mouth and not scream in agony.
"Let me go get your medicine," Brooke made a move to get out of bed but Tony reached over and grabbed her hand out of desperation.
"Stay," Tony whispered, "Just…stay."
Brooke frowned, knowing the pain would more than likely continue to escalate.
"Honey," Brooke whispered, laying her hand on his stomach.
"Please," Tony breathed before closing his eyes. He knew that most of the time, the back pain wouldn't just go away. But he had to believe that each day it was getting better.
That he was getting better.
And if that meant suffering through a few minutes of torture, then Tony could do that.
A month after leaving the hospital, Brooke's due date was set for less than six months away.
"That's a lot shorter than I remember babies taking," Tony smiled from his place in his wheelchair, "But according to some of the doctors I might have brain damage so I could be wrong."
"Tony," Brooke huffed in exasperation and rolled her eyes are her husband, "I might have known for awhile. But with…well, with what happened and everything that lead up to this I…I just wanted to be sure. And the chance for miscarriage goes down after the first trimester and I just…before I told you, I wanted to be sure."
Tony shook his head, "You should have told me. You shouldn't have had to carry that by yourself."
Brooke smiled before leaning forward, placing her head on his shoulder. It took Tony a few seconds to realize that Brooke was crying.
"It's gonna be okay," Tony whispered, wishing he could stand and hold his wife properly.
"In six months, I promise," Tony hugged Brooke tighter, thanking the heavens that he had such a strong woman for a wife, "I'll be walking by then. I don't care what the docs say. I'll be walking and you and our baby will be just fine."
"Nate!" Tony yelled, hoping his son hadn't left for school yet.
"Yeah Pops?" Nate glanced in, a frown quickly shifting across his face when he saw his dad in his wheelchair. His back was bad today then, if Pops was in the chair. Most of the time he walked around the house using his forearm crutches.
"Can you check on Lizzy? I can't," Tony huffed in annoyance and shook his head, "Mom's already left for work and I don't think I'll be able to lift her out of the crib."
"No problem Pops," Nate turned and hurried down the hall, walking into the room. Sure enough, Lizzy was crying, a soft mew that reminded Nate more of a small kitten than the one month old baby she was.
Max, his now twelve year old son, hurried in, leaning over and giving his dad a kiss, "Papa Pete's gonna take me to school so I gotta go now."
"Love you Max," Tony gave the middle boy a hug and a kiss before waving at his surrogate father. Pete gave Tony a wave before closing the door behind him.
"Daddy," Jake walked in, his chubby three year old legs carrying him quickly over to his dad, "I go bye with Mom? And Nate?"
"No," Tony shook his head, "We're staying home today. Okay?"
Jake let out a long winded sigh, as if a travesty had just occurred, "Kay daddy."
"Here you go Pops," Nate brought Lizzy over to his dad, "I changed her diaper. Did mom feed her?"
Snagging his pillow from the nearby table, Tony set the pillow on his lap, securing it with the Velcro straps before taking Lizzy from Nate and setting her in the valley of the pillow.
"No, it's about time to," Tony adjusted the tiny socks on her feet before rolling over to the kitchen.
"Do you need help?" Nate asked quietly.
"No," Tony said, working to keep the frustration out of his voice. When Lizzy had first been born, Tony would have needed help. But as he became more mobile, the amount of help he needed decreased, "You get to school on time before I tell John to let you have it at practice."
Nate laughed, "Dad, you know Mr. Fields wouldn't be able to make me do anything without stuttering it for a few minutes."
"Give me another year," Tony smiled at the thought of his sometimes overly-shy coaching assistant, "You'll see. One more year and he won't be a stuttering guy anymore."