Tony hated crying.

Crying didn’t change what had already happened, and it rarely changed what was about to come for the better. In his experience, crying often made the immediate future worse. His father had despised his crying; it had only made him angrier, made his blows come swifter and heavier. Tony had learned early to hold back the tears, even if it meant biting his cheek until he bled or finding that scarily empty place in his head where nothing existed outside of his own mind.

Tony didn’t like going to that place, but sometimes it had been his only choice. He was afraid that a day would come where he wouldn’t be able to come back. He tried not to go there much, but sometimes there were no other options. He’d found a way to be half-there, keeping enough awareness of his surroundings to follow what was happening in the outside world but putting most of himself away in that quiet, safe place, but even then he was worried that he’d get stuck.

It had happened on a few occasions; Tony had lost time, coming back to himself minutes or hours later, sometimes in the same place, sometimes relocated. He hated to remember those moments. The fear and confusion upon returning to himself was a horror all its own, and it was only his phenomenal acting and undercover skills that had kept him from falling apart in front of any other people who might have been present at the time.

Still, it was better than crying. Crying was the ultimate admission of weakness, and weakness made you prey, made you vulnerable, made you an easy target for those who were bigger, stronger, and crueler than you.

Yet here I am, crying into Gibbs’ shirt again . Pathetic, DiNozzo.

He couldn’t relax, couldn’t allow himself to sink into the comfort Gibbs was offering to him. He refused to trust it; bitter experience had taught him too well that it was a feint, a setup, a trap.

His father’s words rang in the haunted corridors of his mind as harsh lessons that had literally been beaten into him rose up to remind him of his place.

You’re weak, Anthony. You’ve always been weak. DiNozzos do not cry! No son of mine will be seen weeping like a woman! If you want something to cry about, I’ll give you something to cry about! You’re pathetic!...

His father’s voice was loud, but there was another voice, too. This one was saying something completely different, something Tony had never heard before. The voice was familiar, important, and definitely to be obeyed.

It was Gibbs, whispering into his ear, almost but not quite drowning out the angry voice of his father, saying incredible things to him, words of praise and respect and value. They were unexpected, and they suggested that perhaps this wasn’t a trick after all.

It was risky, giving in to that hope, but Tony trusted Gibbs. Gibbs never lied to him, never said something he didn’t mean... but his father’s angry words would not be denied, either, with years of experience to back them up.

It was all so confusing. Tony didn’t know what to do, which voice to trust. He wanted to relax into what Gibbs was saying, but his father’s words held him back.

Then, without warning, everything changed.

“I love you, Tony.”

What was said in a whisper resounded in a roar in Tony’s mind. It wasn’t a candle guttering in the dark; it was a star gone supernova. It was the death of an old way and the beginning of something new, something greater. The battle that had been waging so furiously a few seconds ago was over. The confusion and fear disappeared; the dueling voices ceased their struggling as one fell, slain. The other stood tall, glorious in victory.

Tony couldn’t hear his father anymore.

All he could hear as he felt his knees give out beneath him was four simple words, resounding over and over again.

I love you, Tony .

He was a complete and utter mess, clinging to Gibbs and the hope that he brought like he was a rock in the midst of a sea of suffering that filled all the hollow sections of Tony’s battered self. He felt the dampness of Gibbs’ shirt beneath his cheeks, soaked through already, heard the sounds of his sobs echoing through the room, felt the way his body shook uncontrollably as he wept.

And, for once in his life, he didn’t hate his tears.

~***N*C*I*S***~

Reality returned slowly as Tony’s sobs lessened. The floor was hard and cold beneath his knees, but Gibbs was warm and comforting, though only marginally softer than the floor.

Gibbs had stopped whispering at some point, but Tony didn’t mind. He could still hear the older man’s word echoing in the spaces around them, a chorus of I love you, Tony s surrounding and reassuring him.

Tony felt the first small flutterings of panic and fear start to stir somewhere deep in his belly as warnings long engrained in his heart and mind began to sound that he had made a mistake, that he would be punished for his indiscretion and weakness. He felt that familiar tension rising, that need to run and hide again. It told him to flee, to leave Gibbs and NCIS far behind and start over somewhere new and far away where his secrets could be safe, where he could be safe.

He pulled back slightly from Gibbs, the need to see the other man’s face, to get a read on him, suddenly overwhelming him. He felt Gibbs arms tighten, the other man obviously not yet ready to let him go, but he gently continued to lean back until Gibbs’ grip loosened and Tony could shift himself to get a good look at his Boss.

He was not prepared for what he saw.

Gibbs’ eyes were red and wet, and damp trails down his cheeks showed that he, too, had been crying at some point. It wasn’t a stoic single-tear-at-your-best-friend’s-funeral kind of crying; no, it was clear to Tony that Gibbs had actually wept . What was even more amazing was that the other man wasn’t trying to hide it.

There was nothing graceful or dignified about it; Gibbs wasn’t a pretty crier. Not that I ever thought about what kind of crier Gibbs might be before. I didn’t even know the man had functioning tear ducts.

Gibbs met his gaze without shame, unapologetic as always. The simple reassurance Tony found there settled the swirling emotions in his gut and silenced the panic that was even now trying to direct his feet out the door. There was no condemnation, no disgust, no judgement in those eyes, but there was something there - something so deep, so seemingly impossible, that Tony wanted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

All of Gibbs’ emotions were writ bare on his face, for possibly the first time in Tony’s memory. All his affection, empathy, and love were on display for Tony to see.

Tony couldn’t help himself; he started to laugh.

It wasn’t a deep belly guffaw, or the chuckle that came at a good joke, nor was it the fake laugh that covered a wide gamut of emotions from nervousness to anger to fear. There was no hysteria in it, no panic or worry. It wasn’t a snicker or a chortle, either.

It was a giggle.

Tony leaned back on his heels and giggled as he looked at Gibbs.

He giggled while Gibbs sighed and pulled him to his feet. He giggled as Gibbs gently led him over to sit on the couch before disappearing into the kitchen. He was still giggling when Gibbs came back with a wet washcloth and two beers, tops already popped.

He was finally starting to wind down when Gibbs gently wiped his face clean with the cloth, erasing the tear tracks and the remnants of snot from his face, but that was apparently enough to start him up all over again. Gibbs, for his part, just sat next to him on the couch and seemed content to wait him out.

It went on long enough that Tony’s already abused ribs and healing bullet wound began to scream in renewed protest. That was enough to bring himself under control again, only the occasional burst of giggles escaping every once in awhile. Soon enough, the last bits of laughter ceased with a giant sigh, and Tony sank back into the couch cushions, exhausted, and closed his eyes.

He startled slightly when he felt something cold and damp touch the skin of his left wrist. He opened his eyes to see Gibbs offering him one of the beers. He took it and they clinked bottles together before they each took a swig. They drank in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, before Gibbs finally spoke.

“You alright, Tony? Gibbs asked.

“Depends. Are we gonna pretend that what just happened didn’t really happen and never mention it again, or are we gonna talk about it?”

“Oh, we’re gonna talk about it. Probably more than once, even.”

“Well in that case, I have no idea how I’m doing right now. I just went from sobbing in my Boss’ arms to giggling like a schoolgirl at a slumber party. I’ve pretty much spanned the emotional spectrum in the last hour or so. How am I supposed to feel?”

“Yeah, this day has been an emotional rollercoaster,” Gibbs replied, deadpan.

Tony swung around to face Gibbs, mouth hanging open in astonishment for a moment before a smile blossomed on his face.’

“Boss, did you just quote Oscar? That’s amazing! You quoted a movie !”

Gibbs chuckled quietly, and Tony could see the spark of mischief in the older man’s eyes as he took a sip of his beer.

This is so surreal. I never thought I’d see the day that Gibbs quoted a movie. Rule 6 doesn’t count.

The moment of levity, though it did not detract from the seriousness of the situation, helped Tony to relax even further into the couch. He knew they were about to embark upon a conversation that could prove to be both painful and embarrassing, and Tony honestly wasn’t sure how to feel about that. So much had changed in the last several days, and every time Tony thought he was starting to get back on solid footing something else would come along to knock him down again.

Neither one of us are very good at heart-to-hearts. How are two emotionally repressed federal agents supposed to navigate these uncharted waters? Well, at least it will be interesting.Before Tony could say anything, Gibbs was on his feet and walking away. Tony watched, brow furrowed in puzzlement, as Gibbs climbed the stairs. Tony had no idea what Gibbs was up to, and that little voice inside his head immediately started whispering dark, twisted things.

You’ve gone too far, Tony. Gibbs doesn’t need a weakling on his team. He’s going to get your stuff and send you out the door. You never should have come here.

Tony frowned at that, sudden irritation rising up inside at the incessant negativity residing in his brain. He wasn’t stupid; he knew that the little voice in his head - the one that sounded an awful lot like his father - was often wrong, was definitely wrong in this case. Objectively, he knew that Gibbs wasn’t about to throw him out, but sometimes that little voice could be so convincing. Historically speaking, Tony had rarely questioned its authority, but for once he was sick and tired of listening to it.

“You’re wrong,” Tony whispered to himself.

“Who’s wrong?” Gibbs asked.

Tony didn’t startle this time, but only because he had so much practice at surviving being Gibbs in stealth mode. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t heard Gibbs coming back down the stairs. He looked up just as Gibbs sat down on the couch next to him again.

“Nothing, Gibbs. So, what’s that in your hand?”

Gibbs had brought that mysterious photo album downstairs. Tony had no idea what was inside it, and his insatiable curiosity was piqued. His hand twitched with the desire to take it out of Gibbs’ hand and start flipping through it, but he wasn’t insane enough to try it. For one thing, a ten-year-old girl could out-wrestle him at the moment, and for another, Gibbs would probably kill him.

He felt more than saw Gibbs tense beside him before the other man deliberately took a deep breath and let it out slowly, relaxing his body as he did so. Tony’s eyebrow rose at that, and he stared at the album as if his mere gaze could force it to give up its secrets.

Rather than answer, Gibbs opened the album to the first page, placing it in such a way that it rested with one half on Gibbs’ right leg and the other on Tony’s left, angled slightly towards the younger man.

Tony sat stock-still, afraid that if he so much as breathed too deeply, Gibbs would grab the album and bolt. Smiling up at him from the first page was a photo of Shannon and Kelly, arms wrapped around each other, so happy and full of life that it almost hurt to look at them while burdened with the knowledge that they were dead.

Tony struggled to find something, anything at all, to say, but he came up empty. Surprisingly, Gibbs beat him to the punch.

“Tony, I’d like you to meet my girls, Shannon and Kelly.”