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It was night, Tony knew that much. The window near the top of the cell showed nothing but blackness outside it, and the artificial light in the hallway was dim and flickering. Not off, no, because the FBI couldn't let any of their suspects think they could get away with murdering their cell mates. Tony could hear the faint buzzing of the electricity running through the light bulbs. The sound had been grating as he first heard it, but he had tuned it out for the most part now, unless he chose to listen to it. Unfortunately, right now it was his only companion in the silence.
There was sudden shouting coming from a holding cell down the hall and Tony tucked up his legs onto the bed he was sitting on. It was hard and uncomfortable on his butt, though the floor was worse. He bit back a whimper. He wanted to be home. Papa could fix this; Papa could fix anything...almost anything. He couldn't fix Kate. Was that what was going to happen to him? Was he going to die in here? Was Papa going to let him rot in jail? Just move on and focus on the one good son he had? I was good, too, Tony thought to himself. I tried so hard to do everything right, Papa. Don't leave me in here.
Tony's eyes stung. He was positive Papa was going to leave him here to fend for himself, at the mercy of the federal prosecutors and the FBI. He didn't want this! He had never, not once, intentionally hurt someone who wasn't trying to hurt someone else! He was framed! And nobody believed that he was innocent, not even Papa or Timmy or Ziva! Maybe Abby did, maybe, but she's the one who ran the evidence, and she believed science above everything! And science was saying he had done it!
"Hey, kid, are you going to continue wallowing in self-pity or are you going to say hi?"
Tony looked up, wiping his cheeks clear of tear tracks that had formed. Fornell was standing there, arms sticking through the bars of the cell, but crossed at the elbows. Tony sniffled and looked away. He didn't want to talk right now, especially not about this whole snafu. And definitely not in an interview setting while little; he'd cry on camera for all to see and that would definitely become blackmail the instant the recording was saved.
"You're not going anywhere for the night, kid, and if you don't respond, neither am I. Can't let security film you bawling your eyes out while everyone else is asleep, you-know-who would kill me."
"No he wouldn't," Tony mumbled.
"Oh? And why's that?" Fornell asked, withdrawing his arms from their previous position to lean against the outside of the cell.
"He's..." Tony sniffled. "He's done with me."
Fornell grunted in surprise. The sound didn't echo too much, and Tony felt a single knot in his stomach disappear at the thought that at least no one else would hear him if he spoke quietly enough. "Why would he be done with you?"
Tony looked over to Fornell, trying to decide how much of his conclusions and worries he should reveal. Would he be called crazy? Sometimes the others did that when he saw conclusions no one else did. Would he get blown off, like Daddy always used to do to him? Or would he actually be listened to, like Papa would do whenever Tony got worried about something? Even if Papa knew Tony wasn't correct, he'd let Tony voice his fears before responding. Right now, that's what he wanted before anything else. "He...he thinks I did it."
Fornell frowned. "Did you?"
"No!" Tony said, a little more forcefully than necessary.
"Then why would he think you did it?" Fornell asked. "I've never known Gibbs to be wrong about something like this."
"He...he didn't even help me with any bail," Tony said softly. "He didn't offer. He didn't say anything, not even about going to his house once I'm out. He didn't say...anything. Papa just gave me a pizza and a slap on the head and expected me to be fine."
Fornell made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat. "I need to talk to him, then."
Tony shook his head. "He wants me to deal with this on my own. I gotta be big. An adult."
"Kid, if you're getting that vibe from him, then I need to tell him. He's absolutely worried sick about you. He probably saw you taking this about as well as anyone would, assumed you were doing better than you were, because we both know you're good at faking how you feel, and treated you like the adult you are most certainly not."
Tony buried his head in his knees. "I wanna be home at Papa's," he admitted. "I don' wanna be here. I didn' do anything. I just want Papa."
Fornell sighed, and shifted on the metal bars, causing them to creak. "I know I'm not your papa, and I could never pretend to be him, but I could help you keep calm until you fall asleep? Knowing Gibbs you'll be out tomorrow, Tony."
Tony sniffled. "Not before the bad man records me, and watches me cry and laughs."
"Sacks?" Fornell asked. "Kid, he's one of those people who I throw into a room with his problems to get them solved. He's sometimes ignorant, yeah, and he's certainly not fond of you. But if you break down in front of him he won't mock you."
"He'll say that's why I'm guilty," Tony argued. "'Cause when I think about what happened to that girl it makes my tummy feel yucky, and when it feels yucky it makes me sad, and when I'm sad I cry."
"You get...sick at gruesome crimes?" Fornell asked, skeptical.
"Not at work, 'm adult at work, and adult Tony can deal with big problems better than little Tony," Tony explained. "But I only ever feel yucky thinking about what happened to her, and even adult Tony felt sicky."
Fornell straightened. "I can use that to help you, Tony. If you don't have the stomach to deal with what you saw at the scene, then we can start working on reasonable doubt, if nothing else."
"You'd...help me?" Tony asked, tilting his head to the side.
"I would, and immediately after I'd beat up your papa, for making you think he didn't want you anymore," Fornell said seriously. "But right now, I need you calm, and I'm going to help you sleep through the night."
"How?" Tony asked.
"Well first, I'm going to help you not worry about the bad guys a few cells over, by giving you something else to focus on to calm down, sound good?"
Tony lifted his head from his knees and rested his cheek on them. "Like what?"
Fornell offered a smirk and stuck a fist through the bars of the cell, opening his fingers to reveal a matchbox car in his palm.
Tony's eyes lit up and he stood, walking over and picking it up from Fornell's palm. "Emily didn't much care for it, it was a cereal prize. But I figured you might like it."
Giving it an experimental roll across the cell bars, Tony was pleased that the wheels only made quiet noise, not an obvious clack. The exterior was a deep blue, with lighting stripes on both sides. It wasn't much, but it was something. "Thank you," he said with a grin.
"No problem, kid," Fornell brushed off. "Now, before I go, because I'll have to soon, I want to ask you something about being here."
"Hm?" Tony hummed, still focusing on the car.
"Do the guys down the hall still scare you?" Fornell asked.
Tony looked up guiltily and shrugged. "A little."
"Why?" Fornell asked. No judgement in his tone, no snicker afterwards. A simple and honest question that demanded a simple and honest answer.
"They sound like they'd hurt me," Tony said, spinning the wheels of his newfound car. "Like they'd find out who I am and break out and come over here and hurt me until I had to go to the hospital."
Fornell frowned. "I'm just going to explain to you why you don't have to worry about that, okay? And I want you to listen to everything I have to say before you try and insist you're right."
Tony nodded, feeling the rubber on the toy tire, the small bumps and ridges as he waited for Fornell's response.
"The guys down the hall aren't cops, that's true, but they also don't know you're a cop. Their cell is full; and so is everyone else's down the line of their sight. To them, it just looks like we're opening up another cell for use, not like we're protecting you before anyone gets prosecuted." Tony nodded, unconvinced. "Also, you've felt these bars, you've heard how the creaking sound carries. If anyone gets out, the guards will know immediately, and they'll take care of it. Nothing to worry about there, right?" Another nod, more reluctant. "Also, kid, if you go to the hospital, it might be scary, but it means you're out of this cell, and you can see just how much your Papa cares about you. You and I both know he doesn't really think you did it, but he's being forced to be quiet about what he does. I'm sure the second you get out of here he'll be all over you, trying to make it up to you."
"You think?" Tony asked, hoping against hope Fornell would say yes.
"Of course I do, kid," Fornell said with a smirk. "I know Gibbs, and I know how he is with his agents, even if I don't know his actions around his kids as well. He'll be all over us for putting you through this, before getting all over you to make sure you're okay."
Tony smiled and nodded. "Papa's always super nice if he does something wrong. He always makes sure everything he does is okay and does what I ask if it's safe, and he's super good at being Papa. He always is, but he makes it a point to be better about it if he does something bad."
"There, you see? Something to look forward to when you get out."
"Will I get out?" Tony asked, smile dropping.
Fornell looked down the hall before murmuring, "There is no doubt in my mind that you are innocent, Tony, and you have to understand that I'll be fighting for you in this investigation however I can. Every part of this...all the evidence is too perfect. It doesn't all just lead it to one killer right away unless it was planted somehow. We just have to prove it."
"And what if you can't?" Tony asked.
"I'll mail you a file in a cake when you're in prison," Fornell said.
Tony laughed and Fornell ruffled his hair. "See? You're laughing. Laughing is good. You're gonna be just fine."
"I guess..." Tony said, playing with the car.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, kid," Fornell deadpanned.
Tony grinned.
Fornell tapped against the bars of the cell and hummed in thought. "You think you'll be able to sleep tonight?"
"I 'unno. Maybe," Tony allowed. "Would've preferred house arrest."
"Yeah, who wouldn't, in a place like this," Fornell said.
Tony moved to the other end of the cell, running his fingers along the brick where the paint had chipped, the roughness like sandpaper gripping for purchase on his skin. Little did it know Tony had formed callouses years ago.
"Would you like a song to help you sleep?" Fornell asked.
"Papa doesn't make a habit of singing lullabies," Tony said, nonetheless moving to the bench that was supposed to function as a bed.
"Who said anything about a lullaby? I was hoping for a song with an ironic twist. 'Warden through a party in the county jail--'"
"'The prison band was there and they began to wail.' I know what Jailhouse Rock sounds like Mr. Fornell," Tony finished with a grin.
"Yeah, but I've got a killer Elvis imitation," Fornell said. "Don't you want to hear it?"
Tony grinned and considered shaking his head, but that wasn't exactly true, so he just shrugged. "I'll listen if you do something for me," he offered.
Fornell arched an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"Tell Papa that I'm expecting a hug when I get out?" Tony asked.
"He'll skin me alive if I do that," Fornell said.
"Not if you say it's from Tony. Not DiNozzo, Tony."
Fornell considered, before sighing and nodding. "All right. What have I got to lose?"
"Your dignity," Tony giggled.
"Fair enough. 'Warden threw a party in the county jail...'"