Her name was Kristi, her breasts were worthy of worship, she was far from stupid and deserved better. Fucking her hadn't shaken this...this what? Desire? Fixation? Freudian Daddy desperation?

He'd gone out and jogged, pushing the pace, ignoring that this was THE stupidest time of night to be out on your own on city streets. Even with a gun strapped on under his sweatshirt. He still felt like shit afterwards. No endorphin high for this boy. No, that would be too easy. Fuck.

If he wasn't so scared of ending up like his alcoholic dickhead of a father he would have started kicking back shots of tequila.

Two am on a Friday night and despite using every trick he knew at personal pain management, he was miserable.

It had to stop.

It hadn't started with Kate. The attraction was there well before that but her death broke him open, the knots of restraint slipping out of his control. He didn't remember much of what had happened after the shot. After feeling the warmth of her blood on his face.

He'd gone a little nuts. OK, a lot nuts. He wouldn't let the EMT's wipe it off. He didn't want it gone, didn't want HER gone.

He'd had trouble breathing. And then there was Gibbs, holding his hand and resting another hand on his forehead. Leaning close to his ear "let them help Tony. Don't make me lose you too." For Gibbs's a statement so close to love it shocked him into acquiescence.

And damn if that didn't turn him into a sobbing wreck. Too embarrassed to look at Gibbs, too needy to let go of him. Oxygen mask and the swift trip to the hospital.

He'd missed the funeral. They had him ‘under observation' – between the sedatives and his own desire to drift into la la land it wasn't a hard sell.

Two weeks later the shrink had asked him what thought he needed.

No fucking way he was going to honestly answer that question. Not out loud. To himself, sure "I want to fuck my Boss. No, I want to live with him, follow him around, curl up in his goddamn armpit at night, suck his dick, pour him coffee."

Instead he'd said "I think it would be best if I could get back to work."

He'd been cleared. It surprised him that it was so easy to bullshit his way out. He felt both relief and fear. He knew he was still skating on the far edge of wacko...but what the fuck? He took his meds prescription, filled it and ignored it. He'd go in for refills when he was supposed to. Meanwhile he had a nice stockpile of whateverthefuck they were supposedly dosing him with.

It was close to three now...he couldn't sleep, he couldn't rest. He wondered; if he took all the pills at once would it be enough to do him in?

That's when he decided. If he was willing to off himself why not go for broke?

He drove to Gibbs house on autopilot. The door was open. He walked through the kitchen towards the door to the cellar. It was open so he stepped in. And felt like the biggest jackass who ever lived.

Jethro was where he expected to find him. Working on the boat. He looked up without the slightest glimmer of surprise. "Want a drink?"

"Uh, no." Then a belated "thanks." He kept his hand on the rail and his feet on the top step. He could back up and leave now, that would minimize the damage. He'd chalk it up to confusion. He started babbling "I was uh, in the neighborhood...thought I'd stop by, forgot I'm meeting someone" the babble stopped and the shakes started. Damn.

Gibbs put down his tools and walked up, coming level with Tony as the shakes amplified. His teeth were chattering both hands white knuckled on the banister. Gibbs spoke softly "let me help you with that." Prying his fingers off the wood, placing his arms around his chest. Then a quiet "sit down." Tony collapsed docilely.

A splash of bourbon in an old cup held to his mouth. Burned going down. The blue eye's watching him carefully. He looked at his feet, embarrassed, anxious.

Gibbs poured another shot and drank it himself "you going to tell me why your here?"

Tony shook his head "can't."

A hand at the back of his neck. The voice low and gravelly "S'OK, I'll handle it."

One arm around his waist, hoisting him up. Past the kitchen and living room. His shoes and socks taken off as he sat on the bed. Pushed back, pants and t-shirt pulled off. He felt weightless, boneless...well almost boneless.

Under the blanket and the fucking shakes were back, until Gibbs slipped in and held him close.

"Boss?"

Rough lips kissed his forehead "easy, I've got you."

He pressed against him and wondered for how long.

Gibbs whispered in his ear "for as long as it takes."

Spooky fucker, unless he'd said that aloud. Had he?

Then he didn't care.

END