Gibbs noticed that Ducky waited until the rest of the team had left before approaching him. Things had been strained between them since Tim's visit in the hospital. Hell, since Ducky had forced him to face the truth. Gibbs hated knowing he was imprinted, but he hated more that he'd run away from the truth for such a long time.
'Get you a drink?' he offered, making the first move.
'I'd love one,' the ME said, crossing the room to sit on the couch. He waited quietly until Gibbs had put a glass into his hand. 'Thank you, Jethro.'
Gibbs poured himself a glass of bourbon and sat in one of the two armchairs. They sipped their drinks until Ducky finally cracked.
'How are things between you and Anthony? I can't help but notice that things are a little...'
'Messed up?'
'I was going to say awkward.'
Gibbs frowned. 'What do you expect? It's not like either of us asked for this.'
'No, I suppose not. But does it have to be the end of the world?' Ducky asked.
Gibbs felt his scowl deepen. 'You tell me, Duck. You told Vance, you told the team. God knows what's gone on our records, but I doubt it's a secret round the Yard by now.'
'I did what I had to, Jethro. I turn a blind eye to a lot of things, but not this. It's too important. It would be criminally negligent of me to allow this to go unrecorded.' Ducky sighed. 'Jethro, I regret the strain this has placed upon our friendship, but as your friend and Anthony's physician, this had to be done. Would you have expected me to ignore it if either of you had developed diabetes? Kidney disease?'
'But this isn't a disease, Ducky. You can't treat it, you can't cure it,' Gibbs argued.
'No, it's not. But is it so very terrible to make a life with Anthony?' Ducky asked.
Draining his glass, Gibbs poured himself another and didn't answer. 'You letting me get back to work next week?'
'About that...' Ducky began.
'I'm not going to like this, am I?'
'I doubt it. Director Vance wants you and Anthony to talk to someone. In a professional capacity,' Ducky said.
'No,' Gibbs said firmly. 'Not just no, hell no.'
Ducky sighed in exasperation. 'Jethro, Director Vance will not let me sign you off until you and Tony agree to at least six sessions of counseling. Together. If you wish to return to work any time soon, you are going to have to concede this point.' When Gibbs merely glared at him, Ducky added, 'He wanted you to undergo six sessions before your return to work, with at least another six afterwards. Be thankful I managed to talk him out of that.'
A vein pulsed in Gibbs' temple, but he capitulated with a last ferocious scowl. 'Fine. Set it up. But you tell Tony.'
'I'll arrange the first appointment for as soon as possible,' the ME beamed. 'And I'll do the paperwork so that you can return to work on Monday.' Leaving Gibbs in the living room, he trotted up the stairs to the guest room where Tony was ensconced in bed, the various injured parts of him supported by every spare pillow Gibbs owned.
Gibbs moved to the bottom of the stairs so that he could hear the fireworks. He heard Ducky speak, braced himself, and then the explosion came.
'Vance is sending us to couples counseling?' Tony's voice rose, clearly audible downstairs. 'We're not even a couple! He's crazy.' There was a pause and Gibbs could hear his friend's low tones, soothing but firm. 'Look, Ducky, it isn't that I don't appreciate everything that you've done for us, because I do, really. But a shrink? Counseling? With Gibbs? There's no way that could possibly end well.'
Gibbs climbed the stairs carefully as Ducky talked, avoiding the couple that squeaked. He could have fixed them, but this way he always knew when someone was trying to sneak upstairs: useful in a house where the front door was rarely locked. He stopped a couple of feet away from the guest bedroom and leaned against the wall.
'What have I got to lose? Oh, how about the few shreds I have left of my sanity, not to mention the tatters of my dignity and self-respect.' Tony sounded far more bitter than Gibbs had suspected and it made him wince.
'You could do with talking this through with someone,' Ducky said. 'Don't keep it bottled up. It will only eat away at you and make the whole situation far worse.'
'Like I could really open up with Gibbs there?' Tony asked, incredulous. 'Yeah, I can just see him being supportive when I tell a goddamn shrink that for the last year I've only had an erection on the days he's headslapped me. Or how about the last time I managed to jerk off and actually felt some relief was when we took that road trip up to New Jersey to see Doctor Childs because I could hear Gibbs moving around in the other room and just knowing he was close by made me come so hard I saw stars.'
Tony made a choked sound that was suspiciously close to a sob, but as Ducky drew in a sharp breath, he continued, quiet now, but sounding just as bitter and angry, just as desolate.
'Let's not go there, shall we? Because we both know that Gibbs is never going to give in to this fucking imprint. He doesn't want to want me, he doesn't want me in his life and I don't blame him. This whole freakish thing is a violation. It's a rape of who we are at the most basic level. So what if I'm never going to have a relationship with anyone else? It's not like I was ever going to be anyone's idea of happily-ever-after anyway.'
Gibbs felt as though Tony had punched him in the gut. He couldn't draw air into his lungs and his knees wouldn't hold him steady. If he hadn't already been leaning against the wall, he would have fallen to the floor.
'Maybe when I can get out of this fucking bed without help I'll give Abby a call, get her to drive me over to see the nuns. They should have some great advice about living a life of celibacy, right?' Tony continued.
'Anthony...' Ducky's voice trailed away.
'Maybe it's God's way of telling me to be a monk. You think there's an order with designer robes?' When the ME remained silent, Tony sighed. He sounded utterly exhausted. 'Ducky, Gibbs is my boss, that's all. He's probably the best damn boss I've ever had and I'd hate to lose that. Hell, no one else I've ever worked for would've put me up in their spare room and made sure I didn't kill myself trying to take a shower. I have a home in NCIS, and that's more than I've ever had before. I'll go to the damn sessions if it's the only way I can get back to work, but don't expect me to talk about any of this in them. I've put too much into working here just to lose it all over some freak accident of biology. If anyone can beat an imprint, it's Gibbs, and I hope he manages it. He doesn't deserve any of this.'
'Neither do you, dear boy. Neither do you,' Ducky said, his voice thick with emotion. He cleared his throat. 'Very well, Anthony, get through it as best you can. But I want you to know that you can always talk to me instead and I promise not a word of what you say will pass my lips.'
Gibbs managed to stagger away from the guest bedroom and back down the stairs. He didn't think he'd made any noise to give away his eavesdropping, but he couldn't tell for certain and right now, he didn't much care. He collapsed into a chair in the living room and buried his face in his hands with a groan.
What the hell was he meant to do now? Half of him wanted to march back upstairs and wrap Tony in a hug so tight he'd never feel alone again. The other half wanted to punch the wall and shout in rage at being forced into lov- into caring so much about his senior agent, his colleague.
He jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder, but before he'd got more than a move into disabling his attacker, he let go and dropped back into the chair, releasing the ME, who rubbed his wrist.
'I take it by your uncharacteristic lack of awareness of your surroundings that you overheard Anthony?' Ducky said grimly, taking a seat on the sofa.
Gibbs looked away under the weight of his friend's disapproval. 'Guess it wouldn't do any good to say no, would it?'
'Not in the slightest. I suppose the only question is what you intend to do about it.'
Gibbs remained silent.
'Jethro, the situation as it stands is intolerable. I understand you're suffering too, but that young man needs your help. It isn't like you not to face up to a problem. Be a man.'
Gibbs huffed a mirthless laugh. 'That is the problem, Ducky. I'm a man, and so is DiNozzo. And some problems are better off buried.'
'If I have to get up and come over there and start headslapping you I'm going to be very annoyed. Life is very often far shorter than it should be and chances for happiness come along infrequently. For goodness sake, have you learned nothing?' There weren't many times that Ducky got genuinely angry with Gibbs, but this was clearly one. 'I never pegged you for a bigot.'
'You know me better than that, Ducky,' Gibbs protested. 'I have no problem with other people's sexuality. Who they choose to sleep with and how, as long as it's adult, consensual and safe, is none of my damn business.' Gibbs glared back at the older man. 'This thing might be adult but it sure as hell isn't consensual.'
'So you consented to fall in love with your wives?' Ducky asked. 'Or was it simply more acceptable because you weren't actively aware of the neurochemical processes involved? Love isn't some mystical happening, Jethro; there's no Cupid shooting arrows into your unsuspecting heart. It's a perfectly natural biological occurrence. Imprinting is merely one extreme of the same phenomenon.'
Leaning forward, the ME argued, 'Have you thought about what you gain by imprinting? No? In Anthony, you have someone who won't leave you, won't cheat on you, won't find you too much like hard work. He doesn't care that the hours you both work are ridiculous. He's unswervingly loyal, to say nothing of extremely intelligent and fun to be around. All the times you've been looking for someone to spend the rest of your life with, and he's right here.'
Gibbs jerked back, astonished. 'But he hasn't got a choice!'
Ducky snapped, 'Of course he does! People live with heartbreak every single day as you would do well to remember. If he truly wanted nothing to do with you, he would already be gone. He'd find some way to survive, just as you have both been doing for the past eighteen months.' His tone softening, he continued.
'Tell me, honestly, Jethro: what is it that bothers you so very much about the thought of a relationship with Anthony? Is it truly that you are both men and neither of you had contemplated that kind of a relationship before? Or is it because, in Anthony, you have the one person who will never leave you, never stop loving you, and who has very nearly died so many times since you met him? Because if you refuse him out of the fear of being left alone as you were when Shannon died, then you don't deserve him or anyone else.'
Shocked into silence, Gibbs remained seated as his friend got up and left.
It took a thump and loud swearing from upstairs to bring Gibbs back to himself. The shadows in the room meant that at least an hour had passed since Ducky had left and he really should have checked on Tony by now. Pushing himself to his feet, Gibbs felt old, aching in muscles that had been tense for far too long and in bones that had broken and healed long ago. The deepest ache of all was in his heart.
He climbed the stairs and found Tony holding onto the doorframe with his good hand. He was pale and sweat stood out on his forehead; he looked as though he was about to throw up. 'Going somewhere?' Gibbs asked mildly.
'Have to take a leak, boss,' Tony managed. 'Give me a minute and I'll be fine.'
Gibbs slid his shoulder under Tony's good arm and wrapped a hand carefully around his waist. 'I've got you.' This close, he could smell Tony's usual clean masculine scent overlaid with the thin, sour notes of sweat and pain.
His subordinate tensed at the contact, then winced and relaxed a little, letting Gibbs take his weight. 'Everything's stiffened up,' he said after a moment. 'And sitting up makes my ribs hurt like a mother. Forget standing: my hip's never going to forgive me.'
'I thought that was just bruised?' Gibbs said, inching Tony down the corridor.
Tony took a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other. 'Yeah, well, the bruising goes down to the bone.'
'Ow.'
In silence, Gibbs helped Tony into the bathroom. 'You going to be okay?'
'Been pissing by myself for a whole bunch of years now,' Tony said drily. 'I'll yell if I fall over.'
Gibbs retreated and closed the door behind him, then leaned against the door to wait, trying not to listen to the noises that slipped under the door. When it opened, he took his place at Tony's side again and helped him back to bed.
'Time for your pain pills,' he said. 'I'll get you something to eat with them.' Tony didn't argue, which told him how much the younger man was hurting. He went down into the kitchen and opened his fridge. Inside, the shelves were filled with dishes covered in tin foil, courtesy of Ziva. He pulled out the one on the top shelf and peeled back the foil.
'Lasagne,' he grunted. With a spoon, he carved out a portion and put it on a plate, then slid it into the microwave to heat. While it warmed through, he dished up a second plate and swapped them over. Rooting around, he found a tray that he hadn't used since his second wife left. He loaded it up with the plates and flatware, then filled a glass with milk and put it and a bottle of beer on. Carefully, he carried the tray up to the spare room.
Pale-faced, Tony was lying back against the pile of pillows, his eyes closed. The shadows under his eyes were so dark they looked like bruises. He looked fragile and that wasn't something Gibbs ever wanted to think about his senior agent.
'Going to stand in the doorway all evening?' Tony asked without opening his eyes.
Gibbs gave himself a quick mental shake. 'Lasagne okay?' He crossed the room and put the tray down on the nightstand. With the care he usually reserved for dealing with children and the most vulnerable of victims, he slid an arm around Tony's shoulders and helped him sit up, ignoring the way the younger man's hiss of pain made his own stomach hurt. He rearranged the pillows to support Tony's back, then let him relax.
'Thanks,' Tony said tiredly. He waited patiently while Gibbs lifted off his own dinner and the glass of milk, then placed the tray across a pillow on his knees. 'That for me?' He nodded towards the beer, a hint of his usual mischief briefly sparkling in his eyes.
Gibbs picked up the bottle and took it and his plate over to the armchair. 'Not a chance, DiNozzo. You need the calcium. Plus it should help cushion your stomach against those pills.'
'I thought that was what the food was for,' Tony said, making a face.
'Nope, that's so Ziva doesn't get her feelings hurt,' Gibbs said, straight-faced.
'Ouch! Don't want to see Ziva with hurt feelings,' Tony grimaced. 'Right now, I'm not sure I'd live through it.'
'Then you'd better eat up.' Gibbs suited his actions to his words and tucked into Ziva's cooking. Tony picked at his food, but eventually managed to eat most of it. Gibbs took the tray and stacked his plate on it too, then handed Tony his pills.
'I hate this,' Tony said quietly. He still sounded exhausted and Gibbs could see how few reserves he had left.
'I know. Won't be like this forever,' Gibbs said as Tony tossed the tablets into his mouth. He handed over the glass of milk and watched Tony drink it down, then pull a face. He put it on the tray, then helped Tony to lie down. When Tony was settled, he picked up the tray and went to take it downstairs.
'Didn't mean the pills,' Tony whispered as Gibbs reached the door.
He stopped and half-turned. 'I know.' He cleared his throat. 'Sleep, Tony. You need anything, call.'
The next few days, Gibbs fell into a pattern that revolved around Tony. Making sure he ate and took his pills, helping him to the bathroom and back as the bruising on his hip slowly turned from black to purple, sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room while he slept until he couldn't stand being so close and retreated to the basement, where he worked on the boat until the need to check up on Tony grew too great and forced him back up to the spare room.
He slept at odd times, restless in his bed down the hallway from Tony, but unwilling to give in to the urge to get up and walk that dark expanse of carpet, to slip into the room and take comfort from the sight of his agent, asleep in his spare bed, until a whimper cut through the stillness of the night and he had the excuse of checking on him, making sure he was okay. Gibbs figured that Tony didn't need to know he slept better sitting in the damn chair anyway.
He ignored the voice in the back of his head that whispered how much better he'd sleep in the same bed.
Ducky came by every day to check on Tony's progress, making encouraging noises about his increasing mobility. On Sunday afternoon, after spending half an hour with Tony, he cornered Gibbs in the kitchen.
'He's looking better,' Ducky said, accepting the proffered cup of tea. 'Thank you, Jethro.' He took a seat at the table and helped himself to a biscuit from the shortbread Gibbs had put onto a small plate. 'I'm pleased with his progress. His first physiotherapy appointment is tomorrow afternoon, at the hospital. You should take him.'
'I thought I was going back to work tomorrow,' Gibbs frowned. He sat down across from Ducky with his cup of coffee.
'You are, but I think Director Vance is planning to be lenient with your schedule, both for the physiotherapy and for you both to attend counseling sessions. The first one is scheduled for Thursday, three thirty pm.'
'I could have someone take Tony instead. I'm going to have more than enough to catch up on.'
Ducky fixed him with a steely gaze. 'Anthony is going to need help with the exercises he will have to do in order to regain full mobility in his shoulder, otherwise he's at risk of permanent weakness and disability. You need to help him, Jethro, unless you want to have to find another senior field agent.'
'You never mentioned a permanent disability,' Gibbs said, startled. 'I thought Tony was going to be all right.'
'Yes, well, these things are usually straightforward, but it will take work to ensure that it remains so,' the ME said. 'No one else is so well placed to help Anthony and, to be honest, I doubt he will accept help from anyone else. If all else fails, he will at least respond to your ordering him to cooperate.'
'Fine,' Gibbs snapped. 'Anything else?'
'Have you talked with him yet?' As his friend remained stubbornly mute, Ducky set his cup down firmly on the table. 'Jethro, you cannot simply expect things to continue as they have done.'
'Try me.' Gibbs drained his mug, then got up and poured himself another coffee. 'If that's all, I'll be downstairs.' He retreated to the basement and his boat, hanging on to his anger and trying not to let doubt creep in that his old friend might just be right.
The next morning, Gibbs left for work a little later than usual, having spent an extra twenty minutes ensuring Tony didn't slip and fall in the shower, was dressed in comfortable sweats and a t-shirt, had eaten breakfast and taken his first set of pills and was ensconced on the couch with the TV remote. It meant that he ran into the heavy rush-hour traffic he normally tried to avoid on his drive into work, and by the time he emerged into the bullpen, coffee in hand, his temper was at a decent simmer.
'Report,' he snapped as he rounded the dividers. Tim was seated at his desk, typing away at something or other and Ziva was reading through what appeared to be a cold case file.
'Boss! Good to see you!' Tim beamed, his face falling when he noticed Gibbs' stormy expression. 'Uh... Not much to report. We've been on cold cases since you were signed off.'
'How is Tony?' Ziva asked anxiously. 'He is getting better, yes?'
'He'll be back to his usual cheery self in no time,' Gibbs said. 'Now tell me what happened with Vorash.'
'He still hasn't talked,' Ziva said, scowling. 'I have not been allowed to question him. But two of his men have given up substantial details of his operation. I believe Agent Fornell has been working on bringing the other members of his organization to justice.'
'The director wanted to see you when you got in,' Tim said.
Gibbs eyed the pile of paperwork stacked in his in-tray with evident distaste. 'Anything else I should know about, McGee?'
'No boss. Well, Abby wanted to know when you were here.'
'I'll see her later,' Gibbs said. Coffee still in hand, he jogged up the stairs to MTAC and the director's office without spilling a drop and entered the office without knocking.
'You wanted to see me?'
'Sit down, Special Agent Gibbs,' Director Vance said coolly. He pulled a fresh toothpick out of the box on his desk and popped it into the corner of his mouth.
'I've got a lot of paperwork to catch up on,' Gibbs said, taking a seat in front of the director's desk. 'Can we make this quick?'
Vance eyed him critically. 'How're you doing? And how's DiNozzo?'
'He's getting better; Ducky wants me to take him to physio this afternoon. I'm pissed that I have a stack of papers this high that I have to go through,' Gibbs said and took a sip of his coffee. 'What's this about, Leon?'
'All right, Jethro.' The director leaned forward. 'I talked to Ducky. I did some research. I'm not happy letting you back in the field until you get this thing with DiNozzo sorted.'
Gibbs stared at the director. 'That's none of your damn business.'
Leon nodded. 'I know. But as I see it, if you and DiNozzo don't quit pussyfooting around, sooner or later there's going to be one hell of a blow-up. I can't afford for that to happen in the field. You know as well as I do, better than I do probably, if you end up distracted, someone's going to get killed. I don't want that on your conscience. I don't want it on my conscience. Get it sorted.'
With a glare, Gibbs said, 'Let me get this straight, Leon. You're ordering me to take my senior field agent to bed. My very male, very straight senior field agent.'
Leon raised his eyes to the ceiling and thought for a moment, then looked Gibbs in the eye. 'Yes. Get over yourself. Be happy. Just don't screw this one up or I'll have both of you benched until DiNozzo's ready to retire, understand?'
'Since when did my sex life become everybody's business but mine?' Gibbs growled.
'Since it became a medical condition that could get two of my best agents killed. Not to mention the collateral damage I'm certain you'll wind up inflicting on the rest of us. You're off the Vorash case completely. Agent Fornell should be by tomorrow to wrap up NCIS's involvement.'
'And what about Carl Drevitt?' Gibbs asked. 'He's still missing.'
Vance winced. 'Between us and the FBI, we've had teams going over all three sites with ground penetrating radar. Got a couple of possible hits. The Feds have been doing the digging; should have something for us soon.'
Gibbs scowled. 'So, what, my team's on cold cases indefinitely?'
'For now, yes. Look,' Vance leaned forwards, clasping his hands together on top of the desk, 'I know we've had our differences, Jethro, but you're a hell of an agent. So's DiNozzo and you know how much it pains me to have to say it. Work it out. I need you back on your game and I don't want to lose either of you.'
'What do you mean? Leon? Why would you lose either of us?' Gibbs asked sharply. He stood abruptly, looming over the director.
'You work best together. If you can't do that, tell me, can you honestly say DiNozzo would stay?' Leon asked softly. 'Don't leave it too long, Gibbs. That boy knows how to walk.'
The agent stared at Leon, face seemingly carved from granite. 'We done?'
'Not quite. I think Cynthia has some paperwork you'll need to sign. And Jethro, I know you're not happy about this, but try not to take it out on the rest of the office, okay? I appreciate how you're feeling and if you need to talk...'
'I very much doubt that.,' Gibbs said. He turned and stalked out of the office, stopping at Cynthia's desk to take the proffered papers with a glower that she ignored.
'If you could let me have those back some time today or tomorrow, that'd be great,' she said with a professional smile that remained unwavering in the face of his bad temper.
Gibbs grunted and strode out, down the steps and, dropping the papers on top of his in-tray, went straight to the elevator. His back crawled, between his shoulder blades, under the weight of all the eyes watching him. He wanted to turn and shout at them, not a freakshow, tell them to get back to work, but only two pairs of eyes belonged to his team and they knew better than to stare. He escaped into the elevator with relief. As he turned to face the doors, he noticed heads turning away, one or two people red-faced as he caught them watching him.
He really needed a coffee.
Armed with his customary strong coffee and a Caf-Pow, Gibbs entered Abby's lab. The wild strains of Gogol Bordello echoed off the concrete walls, the tall goth bouncing between her computers and various pieces of equipment. Stealthily, Gibbs slunk around the lab behind Abby, ducking out of sight as she glanced round suspiciously. When she turned back to her laptop, Gibbs stood, grinning as she let out a yelp and stepped back, turning off the music.
'Gibbs! You scared me!'
He handed over her Caf-Pow and let her hug him. 'Missed you too,' he said.
'I thought you'd abandoned me,' Abby pouted. 'You've been back all morning and you haven't come to see me.'
'Been kinda busy, Abs. Lot to catch up on,' Gibbs said, moving away. 'How've things been while I've been away?'
'No one brings me Caf-Pow when you and Tony aren't here and there's no one to growl or make sure I go home before midnight or eat properly. It's like half my family went on vacation and left me behind.'
Her expression was so woeful that Gibbs laughed. 'Hardly a vacation, Abs. And you've been over to visit, you've seen how Tony's doing.'
'It's still not the same.' She slurped her overly-caffeinated drink through the large straw, making a noise almost as rude as when she squeezed Bert, her farting stuffed hippo.
'No, it's not. But I'm back now and Tony will be in before you know it. Probably long before he should be, at that, so don't get too used to missing him,' Gibbs warned. He dropped a kiss on top of her head, avoiding a pigtail to the eye, and left her to it.
It took him twenty minutes to sort out the paperwork that had accumulated on his desk in his absence. Not to work through it, just to put it into appropriate piles: junk, delegate, look at later, urgent. There wasn't much in the urgent pile, which he took as a good sign. Unfortunately, right on top of that pile was the bunch of papers from Director Vance. Reluctantly, Gibbs picked them up and read through them.
'Son of a-' Gibbs slammed them down on the desk. When Tim and Ziva looked over, alarmed, Gibbs scowled ferociously and stood. 'I'm going home. DiNozzo's got physio this afternoon.' His junior agents exchanged worried glances. Gibbs ignored them and stalked out of the office, only remembering when the elevator doors slid closed that he'd left his coffee on his desk. It was the perfect end to his first morning back.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.