The gentle rain that began sometime shortly after midnight continued to fall even as dawn was breaking across the city, painting the homes and streets in a wet watercolor of drab gray washes. There was no visible sun to speak of, just a gradual shifting from dark to not-so-dark. The thick, choking clouds diffused any light attempting to penetrate from the sky to the ground, keeping the locals within their dry, warm homes and secure from the precipitation that varied from light sprinkles to mild drizzles to steady showers. It seemed the world continued to sleep under the influence of the inclement weather, even though it was well past the time most of the neighborhood's inhabitants were ususally up and about, working in their yards, puttering in their gardens, or accomplishing their Saturday morning chores. It held everyone at bay, except those brave enough or foolhardy enough to venture outside.

Jethro Gibbs stood by the large front window of Candace DiNozzo's home, hands pushed deeply into the pockets of his slacks, and gazed out into the dreariness, watching the rain fall unabated. A bright flicker of color caught his attention and he refocused, seeing an elderly woman in a yellow raincoat and matching hat suddenly appear, walking her leashed dog along the sidewalk across the street, the feisty terrier skipping happily, unconcerned about the weather or it's soggy owner. Jethro frowned at the energetic animal's antics and continued to peer at the strange-looking pair until they turned the corner and disappeared from view, unreasonably disturbed at such a common-place sight. It was too normal, too mundane, too much like life should be for those living here. But the world of someone he deeply cared for had changed overnight and he, somehow, wanted it to be rflected in everything he saw, up to and including the soaked duo now somewhere traversing the next block. It had been a truly miserable night and was turning into an equally rotten day and he thought everything was almost tailor-made to fit the foul mood within the house as well.

"How much longer do you suppose they'll be?" A deep, cultured voice inquired quietly from somewhere behind Jethro.

Consciously restraining himself from flinching at the unexpected words, Jethro silently damned himself for forgetting the other man sitting casually at one end of the large, floral-print sofa, waiting somewhat impatiently for the pair upstairs to finally make an appearance. Senator Foster Hathaway had arrived in Manassas shortly after five o'clock this morning and, if he'd been the least bit surprised at having the front door to Candace's home opened by the ex-Marine, he masked it very well. Now, several awkward hours later and no closer to getting answers to the questions plaguing his mind, the older man had broken the silence in the living room.

"Don't know," Jethro responded simply, keeping his back to the man but refocusing on the clean glass of the window to find Hathaway's reflected image in one of the panes. He could watch the man without actually looking directly at him and it made Gibbs feel a moment of extreme pleasure.

As he continued his reflected surveillance, Jethro saw Hathaway give his wristwatch a cursory glance and rise gracefully from the soft cushions, strolling casually toward the large bookshelf and homing immediately in on the framed photograph of Jethro, Tony, and Mike by the cabin at Great Neck Bay, skimming the glass surface with one well-manicured nail. Suddenly realizing the silver-haired man was intentionally trying to bait him, tossing out a worm to see what kind of bite he'd receive, Jethro felt his hackles rise and bared his teeth. He saw the buffed nail still touching the photo.

"How's the new job?" Hathaway inquired quietly, a small feral grin turning the corners of his mouth slightly upward. "I understand working for NCIS can be very...exciting."

Jethro nibbled at the bait but forced himself to ignore the man's chosen verb. "I find the work very satisfying."

Hathaway nodded and stepped away from the photo, eyes passing over the titles of the books he saw on the shelf. He stopped and reached for one of the bound hardbacks, pulling it from it's assigned nook and caressing the solid cover with his long fingers. The green eyes glanced briefly in Jethro's direction once more.

"And your lovely wife? How is she?"

Bastard.

Jethro took the bait, hook and all, and whirled to face the older man, his own eyes igniting into blue flame. He clenched his teeth, trying to control his anger, knowing his lack of sleep was making him more sensitive to the Senator's off-handed remarks. The ex-Marine knew there were no secrets in his life anymore, between the required governmental background checks for his job and Hathaway's competent investigations since coming into Tony's life, Jethro realized he was pretty much like the open book now poised in the Senator's hands, ready for the reader to leisurely leaf through. It wasn't a good thought but it was true. He watched the older man calmly lift his gaze from the volume in his grasp and match the intense stare unflinchingly, the small lift to his lips curling into something more.

This was a challenge, pure and simple, and Jethro was smart enough to know he wasn't in Hathaway's league...yet. Senator Foster Hathaway had made his mark in politics at a very young age by using his quick wit and sharp tongue to systematically defeat one opponent after another, his verbal skills surpassed by virtually no one in Washington. He was a master of the spoken word and could tear a man down just as easy as he could build one up. Jethro took a long, deep breath and reigned in his anger, deciding quickly to try a different approach.

"She's fine, thank you," he responded cooly, moving away from the window to take a few steps closer. "And your wife? How is she?"

Hathaway slowly returned the book to it's appropriate slot and moved back toward the sofa, stopping when he was standing directly opposite the young agent. "In perfect health, Gibbs."

They eyes each other from across the small distance until Jethro allowed himself to relax his stance. The relative position of their bodies was not lost on him and he couldn't contain the honest grin that emerged. He saw Hathaway arch an inquisitive eyebrow.

"If we were somewhere in the Old West right about now," Jethro said with a tinge of amusement, "I'd be thinking you were calling me out."

Hathaway's green eyes sparkled at the analogy as he took a moment to examine their postures. "Ah, I see. So, I would be the seasoned gunfighter and you would be the young up-start trying to hone in on my territory?"

"Something like that."

"And you think you've got the skill to make that happen?" The older man asked pointedly, folding his arms across his chest in a deceptively relaxed gesture.

"Perhaps."

Hathaway's eyes turned icy, all humor evaporating instantly. "Don't mistakenly believe you can outgun me, Agent Gibbs. I have the experience you lack in this type of arena. And, although I know from your background you can handle a weapon very well, it will be some time before you'll be a worthy adversary for me. Trust me on this: today is not the day for our showdown."

Jethro listened to the carefully worded message and silently agreed. No, today was not the day of their final contest but they both knew it would happen someday soon. The ex-Marine nodded his understanding and saw the older man relax.

Before either could speak again, soft footsteps could be heard coming down the staircase, and Hathaway was moving quickly to meet Candace and Tony as they finally made their first appearance since his early-morning arrival. Both looked drained, emotionally and physically, but only Candace would meet the direct gaze of the two waiting men. Behind her, Tony kept his eyes lowered to the carpet at his feet, his young shoulders seemingly drooping with the weight of the entire world. Jethro frowned at the boy's posture, images of whipped puppies and broken spirits flashing in his mind, and had to restain himself from moving to his side. Candace stopped as she stepped of the last riser, forcing Tony to halt, and focused on Hathaway.

"My dear," the Senator soothed, seeing the dark circles under and the fine lines around her usually lively eyes. He took one of her hands and, without even glancing at his grandson, steered her into the living room and toward the couch. "Please sit down before you collapse."

"Thank you, Foster," she said softly, easing onto the cushions and leaning back. She watched as the older man turned his glare on the boy stil standing uncertainly at the foot of the staircase.

"Anthony."

To everyone's ears the name suddenly sounded much like a curse and the small flinch the teen gave dud not go unnoticed. The boy shifted nervously but did not raise his face.

"Grandfather," he responded politely, his young voice rough and pain-filled.

Hathaway frowned at the submissive reply and refocused on the woman, taking a seat directly at her side. Jethro couldn't restrain himself any longer and took a cautious step closer to the youth, seeing Tony nervously flick his blood-shot eyes in his direction. As their gaze met, he could tell the boy was relieved to see his presence in the room and the drooping shoulders straightened fractionally.

"Tony," Candace called from her spot on the sofa, "come in here and sit down."

The teen moved immediately at her order and eased onto the armchair closest to her position on the couch, his hands digging nervously against his denim-covered thighs. He quickly looked to Jethro again before pointedly dropping his gaze to a spot on the floor next to his chair and was relieved when his Gunny moved to sit on that designated position without even pausing. If Tony needed his support, Jethro would be ready.

"What's going on here, Candace?" Hathaway began immediately. "I expected to see Anthony's suitcases lining the entryway when I arrived but, instead, I'm greeted at the door by Agent Gibbs."

"Yes, I'm sorry, Foster," Candace apologized but, in Jethro's eyes, she looked anything but contrite and, amazingly, steadier than she had in a very long time. "You'll have to excuse me if I seem a little scattered but we've all had an extremely long night that's kept us all from our beds." She looked to where Jethro sat on the floor next to Tony's chair and offered a genuine smile. "Even Jethro has gone without sleep and I only hope he knows how much his presence here means to this family."

Jethro nodded his understanding, hoping she knew how much this family meant to him. He caught the sour expression on the older man's face before it was replaced with polite blankness.

"But when you called me last night," Hathaway was reaching for her shoulder, his hand coming to rest on the curve of her neck, "you said you'd reached your limit with Anthony and it was time for him to come live with me. Did I hear you wrong?"

"No," Candace assured, watching Tony fold slightly forward in his seat, and then shifting until she was facing the older man, "you heard me correctly. He has gotten uncontrollable and...and I don't trust him anymore."

On the armchair, Tony continued to lean forward until his face was pressed against his knees, his hands rising to cover the back of his head, trying not to hear the awful words repeated once again. From her place on the couch, Candace could see Jethro reaching out and resting a soothing hand on the boy's closest shin, lending his quiet strength and encouragement, the strong fingers rubbing over the faded fabric of the jeans. She extended her own hand and let it rest on the distraught teen's head.

"What's he done now?" Hathaway's voice was hard and cold and the eyes he turned on his grandson were filled with open disappointment.

"He's managed to hurt me more than anyone in my life ever has before," she spoke quietly, never removing her fingers from Tony's hair. "Everything I thought I knew about him was a lie and I'm left with this stranger." She could feel the tremors starting and knew the boy was crying again. She continued to speak to Hathaway nonetheless. "He's deceived me, he's repeatedly snuck out of our home, both here and while we still lived in New York, he's taken foolish chances with his life on a number of occassions," she looked quickly to Jethro, knowing her next statement would anger him, "he's participated in unprotected sex..."

"What?!" Having heard enough, Hathaway was rising from his place on the couch and glaring at the boy's bent head.

On the floor, Jethro's hand clenched tightly on the teen's leg. This was not good.

"...he's been in numerous situations where he's consumed alcohol," she continued, ignoring the angry tone of the older man and the sobs of the youth, " and I don't know how I will be able to believe anything he ever has to say to me again."

"You stupid, ungrateful child!" Hathaway erupted, his face flushed with anger and his voice rising in fury. "I should have known you'd turn out to be like your worthless, good-for-nothing father!"

"Foster, don't..." Candace tried to stop the man from saying anymore, stretching an arm out in his direction as Jethro was moving up on his knees, leaning toward the weeping boy.

Hathaway all but ignored her request and took a step toward the youth. "He was an alcoholic, too, Anthony. Doesn't it make you proud to know you're following in his footsteps? And we should have known you'd be out fornicating with your friends by now..your mother...your mother began her whoring ways when she was about your age, too! You're just like them, aren't you? Aren't you?!"

Candace gasped at his cruel words and surged to her feet, blocking the boy from his grandfather's line of sight with her small body. She could hear Tony choking painfully on his tears as he continued to sit where he'd been instructed and knew his grandfather's hurtful revelations had done more damage than anything she could have ever said to the youth. She was depending on Jethro to take care of him while she handled Hathaway.

"Foster, you will not speak to Tony like this!" She ordered and watched as he shifted his cold gaze from the boy to her.

"Excuse me?" He fumed, his threatening posture having absolutely no effect on the petite woman.

Unbelievably, Candace turned away from the sputtering man and looked down to where Jethro had gathered Tony into a protective embrace, the teen now clinging to his Gunny like a lifeline. "Jethro, would you take Tony back upstairs and put him to bed? He needs to get some sleep or he's going to become ill."

Jethro nodded but cast a worried glance back toward the Senator. "You sure?"

"I'll be fine, Jethro. I was hoping we all could join in this discussion but I think it would better now if I just spoke to Foster myself," she took a deep breath and offered a weak smile, trying to bolster her own confidence. "Just take care of Tony. PLease."

The young agent all but lifted the boy from the chair and, together, they staggered toward the staircase, leaving the nervous woman and the irate man to come to terms with what needed to be done with the emotionally-broken youth. As they started up the first riser, Jethro looped one of Tony's fairly-lax arms around his shoulders, got a tight grip on the back of the boy's waistband, and prepared to climb.

"Let me know if you get a wedgie," Jethro whispered to the listless boy, hoping to put a spark of life back into the alarmingly lethargic teen. It was a wasted effort. Tony kept his eyes on the steps and concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other.

As they neared Tony's bedroom, the boy hesitated in front of the upstairs bathroom doorway. He tried to get his mouth to work but ended up choking out a dry cough instead and had to settle for a weak hand gesture to communicate his need.

"Want to make a pit stop?" Jethro asked and watched the head nod, frowning at the sound of the boy's harsh cough. "Okay, no problem."

As they entered the white-tiled room, Tony veered away from the tiolet and headed straight for the sink, bending at the waist and positioning his lips directly under the faucet. He turned the cold water knob until he got the flow exactly as he wanted and began to gulp huge mouthfuls of the sweet liquid into his parched mouth until Jethro stepped forward to stop him, the young agent concerned the boy would end up making himself sick. No one in the house had eaten anything since yesterday and, besides the beer Tony had confessed to ingesting at the party last night, this must have been the teen's first chance to quinch his thirst.

"Tony, come on, you'll just end up puking it all out if you drink too fast. Just back off for now, okay? I'll get you a glass after you get into bed."

The boy nodded but, unbelievably, reached for his toothbrush, his fingers awkward and clumsy as he tried to slip it from the holder. Jethro grabbed the questing hand and pulled it away from it's destination.

"What are you doing?" he questioned gently, shaking his head at the boy and seeing new tears forming in the red-rimmed eyes. "Tony, stop this. You don't have to brush your teeth right now."

"Yes...yes, I do," the teen rasped and tried to free his trapped hand. "I've got to do...everything...Candace tells me to do or...or I'll be gone," his voice broke and new tears spilled. "I'm...I'm always suppose to brush my teeth before I go to sleep. Always."

"Oh, Tony," Jethro wrapped the boy into a tight embrace and held him close, slowly rocking from side to side. This was a small sampling of the youth's frame of mind and it tore at the man's heart. "Not now, okay? It will be okay to just go to bed."

"N-n-no..." he stuttered and tried to pull away, his weak struggles no match for the stronger man, "I...I've got to do...what she says. G-G-Gunny...please, she'll...she'll send me away..."

"Tony, stop," Jethro tried to break the mindset but had to settle for manhandling the youth out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, listening to the pitiful pleas and the broken sobs all the way. He eased the crying boy onto his bed and gently pushed him back, bending on one knee to untie and slip the sneakers from the large feet and strip the loose jeans from the trembling body. He bundled the boy around until he got him where he should be on the mattress and was surprised when Tony tangled his fingers in the fabric of his shirt and would not let go. Jethro sat beside the boy and eased a hand through the teen's messy hair, gently soothing with the kind touch and soft murmured words. "What? What is it, Tony? Tell me."

"Will...will you stay...for awhile?" He asked, eyes drooping with fatigue but hand still gripping the front of Gunny's shirt. "Will...will you lie down with me?"

Jethro heard the words, felt his heart lurch in his chest, and knew he couldn't deny the boy this small measure of comfort. He pushed at the closest shoulder. "Move over a bit."

Tony managed to move but, as soon as Jethro stretched out on the twin bed, the youth was pressing close, shifting to lay his head upon the broad chest and wrapping one arm tightly around the trim waist. When one leg started to ease up and over the young agent's thigh, Jethro's hand shot down to stop the movement, needing to keep a handle on the amount of comfort the boy required. Finally settling, Jethro felt Tony sigh.

"Better?"

"Yes, Gunny," was the soft, scratchy, contented reply. "Thank you."

They reclined peacefully together on the narrow bed, the silence in the room amplified by the sounds of the rain beating a steady tattoo on the windowpane just to one side. Jethro allowed a hand to card through Tony's hair, the gentle, repetitive motion of his strong fingers easing some of the tension from the younger body. He knew the boy had to be exhausted but there were questions he needed to ask and, if the situation was as he now suspected, Tony would be able to give the answers.

"Tony," he whispered, giving the boy a slight squeeze.

"Hhhhmmm?" The drowsy, relaxed response warmed his heart.

"Can we talk a bit?" He asked carefully, honestly expecting the boy to say he was all talked out. "Do you feel up to answering a few questions for me?"

Tony squirmed but nodded against the broad chest, clearing his raw throat as best as he could before speaking. "What...what do you want to know?"

Jethro swallowed and voiced his first inquiry, knowing it could send the boy back into tears. "Is Candace going to let you stay?"

Again the head moved on his chest but he wasn't clear about the non-verbal response. He squeezed the youth again, pressing his lips to the top of the boy's head, and asked once more. Tony stirred and shifted his cheek against the man's shirt until he could peer up into Gunny's face.

"I think so," he rasped and swallowed thickly. "She...she said she really didn't want me to go but didn't...didn't know how I could stay if she couldn't trust me. Oh, Gunny," the voice was filled with remorse and regret, "I...I ruined everything."

Jethro pulled him close and turned so they were facing each other on the small bed, noses just inches apart. "You made some terrible choices, we both know this, but Candace loves you like you were her real son. This is probably one of the hardest decisions of her life. Tony," he just had to know, "what were you thinking?"

"I...I don't know," the boy choked as his eyes filled with new tears, spiking the lashes, and making the green pigment shimmer like rain on the windowpanes of this home. "I get angry or disappointed and just do stupid stuff. I...I get tired of being treated like a little kid..."

Jethro watched as the tears spilled and traveled from the eyes, over the smooth, pale skin, and end as a growing wet spot on the pillowcase under Tony's head. The brushed the damp trails away with his fingertips and slowly moved to place a brief kiss to one of the boy's cheeks, hearing a soft, satisfied sigh.

"Every teenager feels like that at one time or another," Jethro said as he pulled back and searched the young face. He wanted to tell the boy he was, indeed, still just a kid and his reckless actions only illustrated his immaturity but knew this was not the time for those lectures. Tony had probably heard all that from Candace already anyway. Instead, he asked his next question. "Did she set some new rules or restrictions or something? If you get to stay, what's going to change?"

"Everything," Tony breathed out rapidly, turning his head in the direction of the window. "She said the tree may have to be cut down so I'm not tempted to sneak out again. I told her I wouldn't but she..."

When the boy hesitated, Jethro finished. "She wouldn't believe you."

Tony nodded and looked back to Jethro, his eyes filled with hurt. "She said...she said she would take my door off the hinges. She doesn't think I deserve to have any privacy anymore."

Jethro pressed his lips tightly together. To leave the boy without the means to have his own area of seclusion was harsh but, in a way, he could understand her logic. When there was no trust in a relationship, one member always paid the most, and it appeared Tony was going to end up with nothing if he was allowed to stay.

"She said I'd have to quit the baseball team," Tony continued with a ragged sob, "that I wasn't going to be allowed to associated with any of them again, even...even Josh."

Jethro pulled him close again and tried to ease some of the pain, knowing what it felt like to be denied the comfort of a best friend. His mind flew to Mike and, even though Tony's youthful relationship with Josh was not on the same level, Jethro knew this would probably be the hardest for the boy to bear. He squeezed tighter when he felt the teen's body begin to shake and reached down to snag the edge of the blue comforter, drawing it up and over the trembling form. He pulled them back to their original position, with Tony's head pillowed on his chest, and waited patiently, holding tight and wondering if there were more restrictions. When Tony started to speak again, Jethro couldn't contain his exasperated sigh.

"I...I'll have to come home straight after school everyday," the voice was beginning to sound hollow and dull. "I'll have to start my homework right away and wait at the kitchen table for Candace to get home from work before I can do anything else. If...if there are chores to do, I'll start them when she gets home. If there's no chores to do, I'll be allowed to watch tv or go to my room. I...I have to stay inside," the quite words stopped for a few moments and Jethro knew Tony would hate being cooped up in the house, "unless there's yard work. I'll have to be in bed every night by nine o'clock. On weekends..."

Tony stopped and swallowed roughly, pressing his forehead hard against Jethro's chest. He clutched at his Gunny with a desperation that shook the man to his soul. Whatever the boy was about to say was scaring him.

"What?" Jethro prompted. "What's going to happen on weekends?"

"Oh, Gunny," Tony breathed harshly, "I'll...I'll have to go to my grandfather's house every weekend! How...how can I do that now? I think...I think I could do everything else Cnadace tells me I've got to do but...oh, Gunny, how will I be able to do this now? Did you hear what he said about my parents? He...he said I was an alcoholic like my father! He...he thinks I'm just like my father! Am I? Am I like my father, Gunny?" He was panting now, almost on the verge of hyperventilating, and pushing against the man as he struggled to comprehend the abstract idea. "Gunny, tell me!"

Jethro reared up on the narrow bed, pulling the struggling youth with him, and grabbed the boy by the biceps, holding tightly and trying to make direct eye contact. Tony's gaze was wild and unfocused and Jethro almost considered slapping the teen to get him to settle. He immediately rejected that option. Violence was not the answer for this boy.

"Tony!" He raised his voice slightly and used his sternest tone, gently shaking the youth until the untamed eyes began to focus. "Tony, just look at me. Come on...just look at me."

The pair were sitting knee to knee on the small mattress, covers askew and pillows tossed to the floor, but Tony finally did as requested and turned to look at the one person who'd helped him through most of the roughest patches in his young life. The green eyes took in the concerned expression and the worried gaze and slowly raised a trembling hand to stroke along the stubbled jaw. This was his Gunny, here for him now, like he always was when needed the most. Tony's heart filled again with the love he'd put away when Gunny married Carolyn and, without thinking any further than this very moment, he pushed forward and twined his arms around the stiffening shoulders, mouth pressing desperately against the stunned man's unresponsive lips.

Jethro jerked and pushed the youth away, quickly jumping from the bed and retreating several steps from the confused boy. He brought a trembling hand up and wiped roughly across his mouth, seeing the perplexed expression forming on Tony's face, the teen's own fingers rising to reverently touch his own lips. Jethro could plainly see the kiss had been a spontaneous reaction to the rampant emotions and, now, embarrassment began to slither it's way into the mix. The pale face flushed with shame and the expressive eyes slid shut, the hand at his mouth dropping to his lap with a dull thud. For once, the ex-Marine was unsure how to proceed, so he continued to stand uncertainly at the foot of the bed. The boy's kiss, though very brief and very unexpected, had reminded Jethro of the latent desire he'd managed to keep under control and knew he had to get a handle on it again...immediately.

After a few awkward moments,Tony's eyes opened and pinned Jethro with a desolate gaze. "Is my father like this, too? Is he a queer?"

The questions were like ice water on fevered skin and Jethro shuddered, quickly moving back to the boy. Without giving the situation another thought, he opened his arms and was gratified when the youth instantly sprung into the offered embrace, head pressing tightly to his chest and arms wrapping like bands about his waist. He returned the boy's hold and tried to soothe him as best as he could.

"Ah, God, Tony, don't say things like that," Jethro implored quietly. "Don't go putting labels on yourself when you don't have the experience to know for sure."

"I know how I feel about you and I know what that means," the boy was adamant. "And I know how I felt when I had sex at the party last night, how sick I felt afterwards. If I'm like my father than maybe he..."

"Tony, for God's sake, don't do this," the man continued to plead.

"I...I need to know, Gunny," Tony whispered against the soft fabric of Jethro's shirt, fingers gripping at the tense back. "Please, tell me."

Jethro swallowed and brushed a hand over the boy's head. "Tony, I don't know your father. I can't tell you any..."

"But you could find out," the boy broke in, pulling back only enough to look up. "With your job...you can get that kind of information, can't you? Gunny, I don't even know where he is or what he looks like. Maybe," he took a deep breath and looked away, "maybe I should try to find him...go live with him instead of..."

"No!" Jethro all but yelled, the tone of his voice immediately stopping and condemning the boy's thought. He pulled roughly on Tony's arms and shook him until the teen's eyes widened in alarm. "You will never, *ever*, say anything like that again. Do you understand me? Do you?!"

"Yes, Gunny," Tony was afraid of the fury shining in Jethro's eyes. He'd seen the man angry before but never directed so fully and pointedly at him and the sight scared him terribly. Not realizing what he was doing, a much-used but almost-forgotten instinct surged and Tony dropped his head to gaze up at the angry man from under partially lowered eyes, pulling an arm free and raising it just enough to protect his face from a blow.

Jethro recognized the position immediately, had experienced nightmares of seeing the bruised and battered child reacting just like this, and remembered their very first meeting, when a cast-encased arm had risen to this exact defensive placement. He released his grip on the teen's other arm and backed away, his eyes filling with remorse.

"Oh, God, Tony," Jethro whispered, "I'm so sorry."

Jethro turned his back on the boy and let his chin drop to his chest, feeling like an utter failure. In his mind, he was no better than those who'd actually abused and abandoned Tony as a child. This was just too much.

A gentle hand on his back startled him, as did the kind words that followed. "It's okay, Gunny. I know you'd never really hurt me. I'm...I'm sorry I upset you so much."

Jethro turned and gathered the surprised youth into a bear hug, whispering his apology into the shell of an ear, lips skimming the skin. "I think we both just need to stop for today and get some sleep. We're saying and doing things we don't really mean. Damn it, Tony, I don't want to be like this with you...you mean too much to me."

Tony could only nod against the solid shoulder, glad he wasn't being rejected. He stayed perfectly still and soaked in the sensation of being engulfed by his Gunny's embrace and knew he'd remember this moment for years to come. It wasn't what he really wanted but knew it was all Gunny could give him.

When Jethro finally eased his grip on the boy, he saw Tony was almost asleep on his feet. Quickly, he steered the teen back to the bed, got the pillows and comforter back where they belonged, and got him safely tucked in. The tired, green eyes tracked each movement until, finally, they closed in exhaustion. Jethro gazed at the boy for a few moments longer before forcing himself to turn away and head back downstairs. As he got to the doorway, he hesitated, wanting to shut it to keep the boy insulated from the conversation below but now aware of Candace's new open-door policy. Swearing silently, the man left the room wide open and quickly returned to the living area, hoping to hear what was being decided about Tony's future.

As he descended to the final riser, Jethro couldn't detect the sound of any voices and got concerned when he found the living room deserted. He stopped by the couch and extended his senses, finally hearing a muted sound and smelling the enticing aroma of coffee from the direction of the kitchen. Shifting quickly back into motion, he strode to the cooking area and was surprised to find Candace, alone, leaning heavily against a counter near the stove, her eyes focused on the coffee maker slowly brewing near the toaster. She turned when she heard the footsteps and offered Jethro a wan smile.

"Where's Hathaway?" He asked quietly, shifting until he was at her elbow, leaning back to rest against the counter, too.

"You just missed him," she sighed. "If I'd known you wanted to say goodbye, I would have yelled for you to come down."

Jethro smiled at her words. "Yeah, I'm so disappointed...maybe I'll give him a call later."

Candace nodded and leaned to rest her forehead against his closest shoulder. "How's Tony? Is he resting?"

"He's in bed," Jethro let out a big puff of air. "Candace, he's very confused right now. About where he stands with you, about his parents, hell, just about everything, I guess."

She straightened and walked stiffly to the table, her own exhaustion radiating off her in waves. Sitting on one of the comfortable wooden chairs, Candace propped her chin tiredly on one fist and eyed her friend, grinning as he eased his face closer to the coffee maker.

"It'll be a few more minutes until that's done, Jethro. Why don't you sit down and rest while you can still move."

"I'm trying to absorb it by smell," he responded, inhaling deeply, but left the counter and joined her at the table anyway. He mimicked her position, chin on fist, and turned his blue gaze on her fully. "Okay, spit it out. I want to know everything."

Candace puffed a wayward strand of hair off her face. "I told Foster I was going to let Tony remain here with me and he didn't like it. I apologized, again, for making him come all this way for nothing and he didn't like it. I told him his little trophy wife has been giving Tony alcohol and swimming nude in front of him for several month now and he *really* didn't like it."

"Well, damn," Jethro spat in disgust, wondering what else was going to be exposed. "No shit? She's really been doing that?"

"That's what Tony said."

"I bet that little bit of info went over real big."

Candace rolled her eyes. "You have no idea."

Jethro looked at her closely. "So, I guess you and Tony had a really intense session together."

She nodded and met his gaze. "Jethro, he confessed things to me I don't even think you know about."

"Do you want to tell me?" He asked, suddenly worried about what Tony may have said regarding his feelings.

"Some, I think, would be good for you to know," she agreed and then pinned him with her tired eyes, "but some is not for me to tell you. Tony...Tony has many secrets, Jethro. I think there are things you best not know just yet."

The comment made him sit back hard in the chair. Since Tony had come into his life eight years ago, Jethro had been privy to some of the boy's most intimate thoughts and hearing he was now being omitted was a tough pill to swallow. He lowered his gaze to the smooth table surface and ran a finger along one of the grain patterns, trying to wrap his brain around the whole situation.

"You seem different, Candace," he whispered, not looking up. "Calmer, more confident."

Candace captured his restless hand with one of hers and waited until he looked up. "I don't have any other choice. I finally had to take a hard look at who I was and how I was handling Tony and, believe me, I don't like what I saw." She released his hand and folded hers tightly together. "Jethro, I'm going to have to be very strict with Tony now because I will always doubt him, no matter how responsible or obedient or mature he acts. There will always be that little seed of doubt."

"Candace, you'll end up suffocating him, maybe even make him hate you," Jethro shook his head in dismay. "He told me about some of the changes you expect and, I've got to tell you, it sounds like he's going to be a prisoner in his own home."

She was nodding her agreement. "I think I need to start out just that way, like the big, bad warden. If, and I mean *if*, he can prove to me how serious he is about wanting to remain under this roof, I can re-examine my rules." She waved a hand and shifted in her seat. "Look, we've got another problem I need to address with you. This unprotected sex he had last night, he says it was his first time. Do you believe him?"

"Yes," Jethro stated firmly and without hesitation, vividly recalling the conversation he'd heard in the car last night. "I didn't know he didn't use a condom. He's going to have to be tested."

"I'll make sure that happens," she frowned, thinking about having to explain this to the pediatrician. "Good Lord, Jethro, how do people talk about this stuff?"

"Just like you did with Tony," he assured. "You open your mouth, you listen, and you do the best you can. I'm pretty amazed at how far you've come in this short span of time. To tell you the truth, you scared the hell out of me last night. When I heard you'd already called Hathaway and he was coming for Tony, I thought you'd lost your mind. Tony loves you and I know you love him. Candace, do you realize how close you came to throwing him away?"

"Jethro, don't...please."

"I'm sorry," he quickly apologized and rubbed his forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache building. "That was way out of line. Look, if it's okay with you, I really just need to get some sleep."

"Not going to wait for the coffee?" She tempted.

"No, I..."

The ringing of the telephone broke his thought and he watched as Candace rose to grab the receiver off the wall, her eyes immediately looking toward the staircase. Jethro stretched and rose and was just about to leave the kitchen when Candace's voice stopped him.

"Jethro, it's for you."

He arched an eyebrow, wondering who would be calling him on Candace's phone, and accepted the receiver from her hand. "Hello?"

"Jethro, when are you coming home?"

He immediately recognized his wife's voice. "Carolyn, is everything all right? I wasn't planning on returning until early Monday morning...you know this. What's going on?"

There was a huge pause.

"I'm pregnant."


TBC