Four days after arriving in Houston, Gibbs found himself sipping a cup of hot, dark coffee while watching Lundy’s horses graze peacefully in the nearby pasture. Tony had been released from the hospital three days ago. To Gibbs’ surprise it had been LaFiamma who’d suggested he stay with Tony. Whatever animosity the younger man harbored toward Gibbs seemed to have faded. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that meant he was trusted completely, or considered a friend, but he took it as a positive sign that he was allowed to stay in their home and was considered trustworthy enough to look out for Tony.
Gibbs smiled ruefully. Not that he was flying solo in taking care of Tony. Dewing had stopped by every morning. The blonde always brought some little treat for Tony--dark chocolate truffles, one of Tony’s favorite kinds of jelly filled doughnuts, chocolate chip cookies. Ordinarily Gibbs would have objected to the junk food knowing Tony needed something more substantial and healthier to regain his strength and usual energy, but the younger man’s appetite hadn’t fully recovered making Gibbs reluctant to deny him anything he showed a real interest in. Besides, he’d reasoned, it wasn’t as if Dewing went overboard with it. It was only one doughnut, a handful of candy, never anything excessive. He figured as long as Ducky and LaFiamma didn’t find out about it, it would be okay.
Mendez had visited every evening after work. He’d even brought his sister and her children to see for themselves that Tony was getting better. Even though he’d known about Tony’s relationship with Mendez’s three-year old niece, he was still stunned by Tony’s easy rapport with her. Gibbs had seen Tony make connections with a few teenagers, but never younger children. Tony had been comfortable handling Angela’s infant baby boy as well. They obviously meant a great deal to Tony, and he was clearly just as important to them.
Gibbs had tried to fade into the background when they stopped by. He told himself it was because he hadn’t wanted to intrude. But it would have been closer to the truth to say he felt like an outsider and had no idea how to fit in. Tony’s closeness with his partner and the man’s family just made Gibbs realize anew how settled into Houston Tony had become.
Gibbs sipped his coffee slowly. His team stopped by every day for a few hours as well. Abby and McGee kept Tony entertained with DVD’s Gibbs hadn’t even known they’d packed. More often than not Tony would doze off during the movies, but he clearly appreciated the gesture. No one minded, understanding that he still recovering, and it gave Ducky time to perform a few unobtrusive check ups on Tony while never stopping a steady flow of words that worked well to keep Tony sleeping soundly.
Ziva spent most of her time in the kitchen cooking. It was a sure sign she was both nervous and anxious to please that she made enough for a small army. No one called her on it though. Leftovers would have spilled out of the fridge if Gibbs hadn’t taken the initiative and sent some of them off with Dewing and Mendez. He was fairly certain some of it made its way to Lundy and LaFiamma in the hospital, and the rest was likely consumed by other police officers they worked with. The remainder Gibb was sure would last long enough to be consumed when Lundy and LaFiamma finally made it home tomorrow and until Tony’s appetite was once more back to normal.
Gibbs sighed softly. His team wouldn’t be coming by today. He’d sent them home yesterday. Three days was the maximum time they could be on sick leave without providing medical documentation for needing more time. And while Ducky was technically a doctor, Gibbs doubted Vance would accept any diagnosis he might give. He would miss having them around. They hadn’t been around 24/7, but they were still there enough to act as a buffer and make Gibbs feel more at ease.
Gibbs was in Houston on a leave of absence request that as far as anyone knew Shepard had approved before her death. She had approved it; he just wasn’t supposed to be taking the time until later in the year. Gibbs had gotten McGee to hack into the official duty roster calendar and change the dates. Making it official gave him more time than unapproved sick leave would have. Even with the months he’d been in Mexico, Gibbs still had plenty of leave time on the books. More than fifteen years in government service had given him time to accrue a lot of vacation.
His plane ticket was open ended but he knew he’d have to give Vance some sort of answer about when he was coming back--if he was going back at all. The jury was still out on that issue. He wasn’t at the mandatory retirement age, but he was old enough he could retire without penalty. He had enough in his savings and 401K to live on if he was frugal, and having been frugal his entire life, Gibbs didn’t think that would be a problem. But he didn’t want to end up doing what he did the last time. He hadn’t been ready to let go when he’d run off to Mexico; returning would have held no appeal at all if he had been, nor would coming back have been so easy to do. He was good at what he did, one of the best, but the doubts he had about who he was doing it for hadn’t faded since leaving DC.
Shepard’s funeral would be in another two days. He should go to it; his attendance was expected, if not outright required, but he really didn’t want to. He was sorry for how she died, disappointed that he hadn’t been able to see justice done, but he wasn’t overly upset by her death. Their relationship over the past few months was more confrontational than cordial, and in light of what he’d learned about the years she’d devoted to her obsession with Benoit Gibbs found himself wondering if he’d ever really knew her at all.
Gibbs sipped his coffee again. He was going to have to make a decision about attending the funeral soon. He wanted to have his mind made up on staying at NCIS when he did. It just made sense to have his ducks in a row when he went back. It would save a lot of time, money and aggravation.
Gibbs glanced over his shoulder when he heard the door slide open. He wasn’t surprised when Tony stepped out. Since his release, the back porch had been Tony’s preferred spot in the afternoon. Gibbs could understand the appeal. The fresh air and sunshine were a definite improvement over the hospital.
Tony made his way to the padded lounge chair, tucking his stocking feet under the fleece blanket that had been left lying on it. It wasn’t cold out, but Gibbs knew Tony would feel any chill more until he was fully recovered. He was tempted to go inside and get a jacket or sweatshirt for Tony, the light t-shirt and sweatpants he was wearing didn’t seem like enough to Gibbs.
“I’m okay, Boss,” Tony said quietly, giving him a knowing look. “This is Houston for crying out loud, it doesn’t get cold here.”
Gibbs snorted. “Bet you the locals say different.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “It’s almost seventy.”
“You just got out of the hospital-"“
“And I don’t want to spend any more time staring at walls,” Tony all but snarled at him, frustration, anger and determination all present in his voice.
Gibbs held up one hand in a classic surrender position. “I’m not saying you have to go back inside, just let me know if you need a jacket or another blanket.”
Tony blushed, looking away. “Didn’t mean to snap.”
“Yeah, I know,” Gibbs said, his lips curling upward in a smile at the not quiet apology Tony had made.
Gibbs sat in one of the chairs, elbows resting on his knees, hands cradling his coffee mug. “I’d have started snapping days ago.”
Tony chuckled. “I seem to remember you didn’t wear a sling as long as Ducky said you should after Ari shot you.”
Gibbs arched an eyebrow. “You came back to work early after having the plague.”
“Okay, so we’re both idiots,” Tony said with a grin. “That make you feel better?”
Gibbs laughed softly. Having things in common with Tony, even stupid macho things did make him feel better, but admitting that out loud wasn’t something he thought he should do. Tony’s expression made his failure to answer moot; clearly the younger man already know what he was thinking.
Tony took a breath, holding it for a moment before releasing it with a sigh of satisfaction.
Gibbs felt a similar sense of satisfaction at how much easier Tony was breathing. A week ago a deep breath like the one he’d just taken would have made him cough harshly, and then struggle to get his breath back. While still pale, his color was much better and every day Tony seemed to regain more of his usual energy and zest for life.
“You need anything?” Gibbs asked.
“Nah.” Tony shook his head. “I’m good.”
Gibbs nodded, sitting back and stretching his legs out in front of him. He sipped his coffee.
“I didn’t get a chance to ask…did you make any progress on the boat?” Tony asked quietly, an eager childlike expression on his face.
Gibbs hid his smile behind his cup. “A little.”
“You got any new pictures?”
Gibbs had gotten McGee to show him how to make the camera feature on his phone work so that he could send Tony pictures of the progress being made. He’d sent them the first time as proof he was still working on it, that he was going to finish it so Tony would have no doubts as to his determination to actually come visit. Those photos had prompted a number of questions from Tony on the actual construction process, everything from why Gibbs was using a certain type of wood to how the mortise and tenon with wooden peg system used on the ribs could hold together. Initially Gibbs answers had been short and to the point until he realized the subject gave him something to actually talk to Tony about, and he’d come to appreciate the younger man’s willingness to show an interest in something that he was interested in until they could branch out to other topics.
During their regular phone calls questions about the boat were always included even though finding ‘common ground’ was no longer a problem. Being able to involve Tony, even remotely, made it feel less like he was building it alone and more like Tony was part of the process. Hearing Tony sound so eager to hear more about it made it obvious the boat meant as much to him now as it did to Gibbs.
Gibbs dug out his phone. He offered it to Tony knowing he’d be able to scan through the memory faster than he could. According to McGee he’d be better off using a digital camera, but Gibbs didn’t own one and had no intention of buying one.
“You still planning to sail her to the Gulf?”
Gibbs nodded. That was never in doubt, but he knew Tony wanted reassurance that things hadn’t changed because of his being injured. “Yep.”
“How long will it take you to finish her?”
Gibbs shrugged. “I should be able to put her in the water by June.” Progress on the boat had been slowed by recent events, but he’d put in a lot of extra time trying to meet the original deadline. June was still doable.
“You still haven’t told me how you are going to get her out of the basement.”
“No, I haven’t.” Gibbs agreed with a smirk. He had no intention of telling anyone how he was getting it out.
Tony rolled his eyes. “I should have Abby bug the basement.”
Gibbs arched an eyebrow. “You think she’d risk it?”
“She wants to know just as badly as everyone else, Boss.”
Gibbs had to admit Tony had a point. He glared at the younger man. “Don’t go putting ideas in her head.”
“How do you know I didn’t already suggest it?”
“DiNozzo.” Gibbs put as much warning into that one word as he could.
Tony held up a hand in surrender. “Okay, okay. If she doesn’t think of it herself, I won’t bring it up.”
“Good.”
Tony grinned. He settled in on the lounge. When he shivered, Gibbs shot him a dirty look and reached for the blanket, spreading it over him.
Tony rolled his eyes. “If I wanted that I’d have gotten it myself.”
“Shut up, DiNozzo.” Gibbs’ tone was far too warm to be considered much of a reprimand. Tony smiled back at him.
Gibbs took a deep breath enjoying the companionable silence and fresh air. It was already getting green this far south; the subtle scent of growing plants warmed by the sun perfumed the air. Gibbs closed his eyes and titled his face upward. He’d forgotten how nice it was to be outside and just be able to enjoy being outside.
“How long are you staying?” Tony asked quietly.
Gibbs opened his eyes and looked at Tony. “Shoving me out the door, are you?”
Tony snorted. “You know better than that. But I don’t expect you to stay here indefinitely.”
Gibbs pursed his lips. “I’ve been trying to decide if I should go back for Shepard’s funeral.”
Tony frowned, his head cocking to one side as he stared at Gibbs. “I thought they’d held that already.”
“Her death had to be investigated first.” Gibbs made air quotes around investigated. “The date for her funeral wasn’t set until her death was deemed accidental.”
“More shit done for show.” Tony snorted. “Although, I do have to give Vance credit for follow through on the details.”
“Probably why he gets to sit in the big chair.” Gibbs sipped his now not quite hot as he’d preferred coffee. “If you’re going to plan a cover up, you want someone with an eye for details.” He sighed. “Would have been easier for them to just tell the truth.”
“You know that. And I know that. But I don’t think anyone that high up the ladder does.” Tony raised one shoulder in an abbreviated shrug. Gibbs knew that his still healing broken ribs kept him from fully executing the move.
Tony grinned at him. “It’s probably why neither one of us will ever get to be the guy in charge.”
Gibbs shook his head, fighting down the urge to grin back at him. He’d never wanted to sit in the director’s chair. But at one time he thought Tony might be a good candidate for the job-until he realized just how much like him Tony was. He was more of a people person, better able to schmooze and make nice, but when it came to where he stood on important things Tony was every bit as stubborn as Gibbs. To play politics effectively one had to be willing to bend more than stand fast.
Gibbs was suddenly glad Tony had left NCIS when he did. The La Grenouille case and things that had happened afterward had come close to breaking him. Pulling up stakes before anyone at NCIS, himself included, could do irreparable damage really had been in Tony’s best interest. The question he had now was if leaving NICS would be the right choice for himself.
The last time Gibbs had left, he hadn’t talked about it, he’d just gone. In hindsight he realized what a mistake that had been. If he’d taken the time to really think about what he was doing, to talk to someone, he would have stayed rather than run off to Mexico. A lot of things would have been different if he had. Oh Shepard’s obsession with Benoit would have continued unabated of that Gibbs was sure, but at least if he’d been around Tony likely wouldn’t have been drawn into it--not without decent backup at any rate.
Blue eyes met green. “I’m thinking of retiring.”
Tony didn’t look surprised. He clearly remembered Gibbs earlier admission when they’d talked in the hospital. “Still tired?”
Gibbs hesitated for a second before nodding. No Marine ever wanted to admit he was beaten, but knowing Tony had been there himself, had said enough was enough, he felt comfortable admitting to being near the end of his rope.
“I’m not sure I can work for Vance when I don’t know if I can trust him.”
“Can understand that.” Tony played with the edge of the blanket, his gaze shifting away from Gibbs to the horses. “You got plans for what to do if you leave NCIS?”
Gibbs chuckled, dark amusement bubbling forth. “Hell, Tony, I never thought I’d live long enough to have to worry about retiring.”
Tony laughed, eyes once more on Gibbs. “Guns, bombs, and terrorist, oh my.”
Gibbs appreciated Tony making light of it, knowing he understood. Hell, there were times when it didn’t seem like Tony would make it to 35 much less have to worry about retirement when he was working at NCIS.
“Don’t compare me to Dorothy again, DiNozzo, or I’ll smack you one.”
Tony smirked. “I’ll tell Joe.”
Gibbs waved a hand dismissively. He wasn’t afraid of LaFiamma--not really. He did respect what he was sure the other man was capable of though. There was no doubt he’d kick Gibbs’ ass if he thought he’d hurt Tony in any way while he was still healing. But it wouldn’t do for Tony to know that his threat carried any real weight.
“Hiding behind your cousin?” Gibbs clucked his tongue. “What are you, a little girl?”
Tony just smiled, not rising to the bait. “What’s the point of having a guard dog if you can’t sic him on people?”
“You think he’d appreciate being compared to a dog?”
“You already called him that before and he didn’t mind.” Tony grinned. “He’s kind of like having a Rottweiler. Better actually since he doesn’t shed on the furniture, drool or make a mess in the yard.”
Gibbs snickered. He had missed Tony’s humor. Very few people ever made him feel so much honest amusement. The rest of his team came close, or at least they had when Tony was there to egg them on but on their own not nearly as much. McGee didn’t banter with Ziva the same way he had with Tony, and he was still too wary around Gibbs to really let loose. Ziva wasn’t exactly the sort to be silly or childlike without someone to goad her into it, and she didn’t really know how to laugh at herself. Abby inspired more paternal feelings from him, bittersweet since she tended to remind him a lot of the daughter he’d lost. Ducky sometimes drove him to distraction, but as a long time friend, he was too fond of him to ever be amused at his expense.
Thinking about the rest of his team was sobering. Would they be okay without him there? He had left them in Tony’s capable hands the last time, but who would take care of them if he retired?
“Probie has grown up a lot,” Tony murmured, following Gibbs’ thoughts with uncanny accuracy. “He can take care of himself.”
Gibbs thought Tony might be right about that. McGee had come a long way from when he’d first joined the team. He wasn’t ready to be a team leader yet, at least not a field team, but he was definitely capable and competent being a senior field agent.
“Ziva’s taken care of herself for years, Boss.” Tony looked sad for a moment. “Don’t think she ever had anyone she trusted, really trusted to watch her back until working with you so being on her own again or having to rely on McGee for most things won’t faze her much.”
“She trusted you,” Gibbs pointed out. “She still does.”
“Not enough,” Tony made another abbreviated shrug. “It was you she went to when she was in trouble, not me. I don’t blame her for thinking you’d do a better job. You did do a better job.”
“Bullshit.” Gibbs glared at him. “You were a good team lead and she should have come to you. You would have done as well as I did if she’d have given you half a chance.”
Tony smiled shyly. “Thanks.”
“You don’t have to thank me for telling you the truth.”
“Still nice to hear it just the same.”
“I should have said it then.”
“Hey, we’ve already covered this ground,” Tony admonished him. “It’s done. You don’t need to beat yourself up over it any more.” Tony grinned brightly. “Besides, better late than never, right?”
“Right,” Gibbs agreed, willing to agree for now rather than argue about it.
“Abby and Ducky will be okay without you.” Tony assured him. “They might not like it, but they could handle you retiring if they knew it was what you wanted. Especially if you explain why, and don’t just disappear on them. Call once in a while. Send a postcard. Figure out how to answer an e-mail. You know, communicate now and again and let them know you aren’t dead in a ditch somewhere.”
Gibbs nodded. Talking with Tony weekly had made him appreciate the simple act of staying in touch. Tony was still part of his life even though he was no longer on the team or even in DC. It was a novel experience for him. Usually when people left, Gibbs rarely encountered them again or made any effort to stay in touch.
“So just a few postcards?”
“Not like anyone expects you to write long letters.” Tony snickered. “Hell, you are practically a functional mute, Gibbs, they’d be happy with smoke signals as long as they knew they were from you.”
Gibbs reached out and cuffed him lightly. “Shaddup.”
“Like that ever works.” Tony snorted.
“It used to.”
“Once upon a time I was short too. Things change.”
Gibbs smiled fondly at him. “Yeah they do.” And sometimes it was for the better.
“You know, if you decide to stay at NCIS, it won’t be the worst thing ever either.” Tony offered quietly. “I mean, Vance might grow on you…evenutally. He’s not an idiot even if he does play politics. You could work with that. And you’ll still have your team on your six. You can trust them even if you can’t trust him.”
Gibbs had already considered those things. He didn’t mind hearing Tony voice them though.
“You would still be doing something worthwhile, fighting the good fight.”
That was really the heart of his issue when it came right down to it. Gibbs took the responsibility of looking out for servicemen and women seriously. Taking care of them and their families was important. Regardless of who sat in the director’s chair, the people putting their lives on the line for their country deserved the very best.
Gibbs sighed. He wished the decision was an easy one. But it wasn’t.
He nodded to himself. “I’m going to go back for Shepard’s funeral.”
“Okay.” Tony gave him an expectant look, waiting for more.
“I need to talk to the others, let them know what I’m thinking and see where they stand.” Gibbs gave Tony a rueful look. “Don’t want to leave them in the dark like I did the last time.”
Tony nodded. “I’d say that’s a good start.”
“My father used to tell me you should start out the way you intend to continue.” Gibbs hadn’t thought about that in years, but his old man was right. If you wanted the end product to be worth keeping you had to start out right otherwise it wouldn’t be worth having.
“Sound advice that.” Tony yawned, rubbing at his eyes. “Damn, you’d think I never got any sleep at all.“
“It’s all this fresh air and sunshine.” Gibbs told him, voice as deadpan as he could make it. “Wears a body out.”
Tony flipped him off, eyes drifting closed as he shifted on the lounge to find a more comfortable position. Gibbs closed his eyes and tilted his head back to face the sun again. He’d wait until LaFiamma and Lundy were home before he’d look into flights back to DC. There was no way he’d leave Tony completely on his own.
Once he knew what flight he was on, he’d call his team and see if they’d meet him at his house. Talking with Tony made him wonder what sort of input they’d have to offer. Would they understand his reasons for thinking about retiring? Would they think themselves capable of doing the job without him?
He took a deep breath and released it slowly. In a few days he’d know and he wouldn’t have to wonder any more. No point in worrying about it now. Better to just enjoy the moment. It wouldn’t be anywhere near this nice outside in DC.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Gibbs and Tony talk a bit about Gibbs' future.