He turned on the hot water as high as he could stand it, just shy of scalding his skin. Fresh bar of soap, new washcloth, new bottles of shampoo, everything. He just needed to get clean, scrub the dirt and the pain and the grief of the last case off him.

An entire family was dead for no reason other than one man's insane jealousy over something that had only existed in his own mind.

"Fuck," he whispered, sinking to his knees in the shower. "Oh, Christ."

He didn't know how long he stayed there, water pouring down over him, scouring him, before the tears came. Slowly, painfully, salt mixing with the taste of the shower, hot tears and hot water running down his face.

He knelt in the shower, burying his face in his hands, and cried.

His skin was bright pink by the time he got out, shivering in the relative coolness of the bathroom. He brushed his teeth twice, combed his hair, wrapped himself in a thick robe--all normal. Mostly. If he didn't count the way he avoided looking at himself in the mirror.

The bedside lamp was on when he went into the bedroom. He ignored it as he hung up the robe and pulled on sweatpants and a faded white T-shirt, crawling into bed wearily.

If he was lucky, he wouldn't dream.

A warm, callused hand reached for him, tugging gently on his wrist and pulling him across the bed. Too tired to resist, he let himself be drawn into strong arms, resting his head over the steady heartbeat that had lulled him to sleep so many times before. Gentle fingers stroked through his hair, offering wordless comfort and support.

He closed his eyes, trying to will away the visions of what he'd seen. The lieutenant's body, sprawled like some grotesque rag doll in the living room. His wife, crumpled at his feet. And the little girl's room, blood spattered over the peppermint-striped walls and on the fur of her teddy bear.

Tears pricked behind his eyes again. He closed them, willing them away. This wasn't the first bad case he'd had. It wasn't going to be the last. He had to let it go.

"There was a story once," the quiet voice said, arms holding him close. "A prince, although to look at him you'd never know it."

"I'm a little too old for bedtime stories," he said wryly.

"Shush." Lips pressed against his forehead. "Just relax and listen."

He closed his eyes, listening to the soft quiet voice spin a tale of princes and battles and love, the heartbeat under his ear a steady counterpoint and the arms around him keeping him warm and safe.

Somewhere between the prince's battle to win the hand of his love and the monster that showed up to challenge him, he fell asleep, velvet darkness wrapping around him and carrying him off.

Gibbs looked down at the man sleeping in his arms and sighed, stroking Tony's hair back from his forehead. This wasn't the first time this had happened, nor would it be the last. Any time there were children involved--something that was an infrequent occurrence, thankfully--Tony took it hard.

He'd done the job, just like he always did. And if it tore a piece out of his soul as a result--well, there wasn't much Gibbs could do about that except hold him and soothe him to sleep and watch over him in the night.

It wasn't enough. But it was all he had.

Nothing was going to bring little Jane Lovat back to life. She wasn't going to turn four in April, her parents weren't going to see her grow up, teach her how to ride a bicycle and watch as she learned how to put on makeup or drive a car. The unfairness of it all made Gibbs' throat tighten and made him want to hit something.

Tony shifted in his arms and Gibbs smoothed a hand down his back, not wanting to wake him. It was hard enough for Tony to sleep after a case like this; if he woke up now he'd be up the rest of the night. He kissed Tony's temple, tasting the faint spearmint of his soap. "Sleep," he whispered. "Sleep, Tony. I've got you."

He lay awake, watching Tony cuddle closer, burying his head against Gibbs' collarbone. Gibbs tugged the comforter up around Tony's shoulders, moving a little to ease the weight on his left arm--a move that turned out to be a bad idea. Not because it woke Tony, but because sensation flooded back into his arm and he gritted his teeth with the pins-and-needles fire of it. "Shit," he said under his breath, rolling over onto his back and taking Tony with him.

"Mmm?" Tony mumbled, half-awake.

"Shh," Gibbs murmured, kissing the top of his head. "Go back to sleep, Tony."

"Mmph." Tony sighed and kissed Gibbs' collarbone absently before drifting off again.

He woke up in the morning to the feeling of a warm heavy weight pressing him into the mattress and a mouth nipping at his throat. "Well, that's one way to wake up," he managed, blinking his eyes open.

Tony smiled and bent to kiss him. "Thank you," he said softly. "For last night."

Gibbs brushed his fingers down Tony's cheek. "You okay?" he asked.

"I will be." Tony turned into the caress. "Eventually."