The rest of the drive was made in relative silence.

Normally Tony hated prolonged silences, but he had learned to be a bit more comfortable with it around Gibbs. Gibbs didn’t need noise or distraction, and his quiet nature put Tony at ease. Tony knew that Gibbs saw through his act, so he felt no need to perform for him when they were alone. Still, Tony often filled the gap himself anyway simply because he needed something to do.

Silence left too much time to think about things best left alone.

Tony used the remaining drive time to plan, plot, and even scheme a little. He knew that he had made a deal with Gibbs and that the man would collect, but that didn’t stop him from trying to find a way to weasel out of his end of the bargain. He couldn’t help himself. He felt like he was standing on the margin of a great chasm, and one wrong step would send him over the edge and into oblivion.

There was a part of him, small but persistent, that had been urging him to tell Gibbs for a long time. Unfortunately, that part was drowned out by the much louder part of him that told him to trust no one, not even Gibbs - Gibbs, who was his best friend and the older brother he’d never had. Gibbs, who was more of a father to him than his own had ever been.

It scared him how much he had come to depend on the older man, how much he cared about him, how much he mattered. He was so used to being on his own and taking care of himself, and just the thought of needing anyone to help him made him want to pack his stuff and run to the opposite side of the globe. By the time he realized how much Gibbs and the rest of the team had become his family, it was too late. NCIS was home. He couldn’t leave, despite how much he might want to at times.

It wasn’t the secret of the outdoorsman in him that was the issue, not really. That secret was silly, he knew, at least on the surface. Had he told Gibbs from the beginning, it wouldn’t have mattered at all, but years of habit and distrust had led him to play it close to the vest, not knowing that he would eventually come to the place where Gibbs and safety were synonymous in his mind. Telling him now would lead to questions that he didn’t want to answer.

And Tony knew that there would be no halfway measures in this. Gibbs would not settle for anything less for the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help them God. Gibbs would dig and dig until he got to the bottom of everything, until every last scrap and bone and shard had been uncovered, categorized, and analyzed.

Great, now I’m confusing the Boss with Indiana Jones. All he needs is a hat and whip and the picture will be complete.

“It belongs in a museum!” Tony muttered under his breath.

He saw Gibbs glance at him from the corner of his eye, but he steadfastly ignored him. Unbidden, an image of Gibbs running from a giant boulder appeared in his mind, and Tony had to fight to stifle a laugh. He heard the rattle of that box in his brain and knew that the panic was trying its best to get out and wreak havoc again. He bit his lip and pressed down on the accelerator, suddenly desperate to get out of the truck and away from Gibbs for a moment so he could regroup without an audience.

Fortunately, they were almost at their destination. Before he knew it, he was pulling into the ranger's station and checking in. He had reserved a campsite located about two miles from the nearest parking area on one of the more obscure trails. They would have to hike in, but it wasn’t so far that they couldn’t get to the truck in a hurry if need be or force themselves to carry everything in one trip if it wasn’t necessary. The more remote nature of the trail gave them good odds of being undisturbed, even on such a busy holiday weekend.

After checking in, Tony had driven them to the small parking area at the trailhead. Tony slipped into the single restroom and locked the door behind him, grateful for a moment alone to order his thoughts. He relieved himself, then washed his hands. Looking into the mirror, he watched his reflection stare back at him and took a deep breath, then another.

“Pull yourself together. DiNozzos do not panic. DiNozzos do not panic. Neither do they pass out, cause a scene, or short-sell stock without an inside track.” Tony quoted a truncated list of his father’s mantras to himself, aware on some level how ridiculous that idea was, but nevertheless used it to leverage his burgeoning hysteria back into the overstuffed box where it belonged.

Tony turned the faucet back on and splashed water on his face, using the cold shock to reset himself. With a deep sigh, he reached for the paper towels and dried his hands and face before straightening his shoulders and making his way out of the bathroom and back to the truck where Gibbs was waiting.

Gibbs had obviously not been idle while Tony was straightening himself out; he had his gear organized into a well-laden pack that leaned against the back wheel well, ready to go. The man himself was leaning against the passenger door, arms crossed and one knee bent, looking for all the world like one of those black cowboy cutouts that some people used as yard decorations - minus the hat, of course.

Tony had a momentary flashback to their trip to Arizona the previous year and smiled. He had enjoyed his time with Gibbs and the Sheriff a lot more than he had let on. He had played the tenderfooted fool to the hilt, slipping into the role like it was another undercover op. Gibbs had been none the wiser, and Tony had gone home feeling quite proud of himself. If there had been just a bit of sorrow and longing underneath it all, well, Tony was good at ignoring elephants and pretending everything was fine.

Tony made his way to the bed of the truck and grabbed his own pack, giving it a thorough once-over to ensure that everything was in place and ready to go. His tent and bedroll were fastened to the medium-sized hiking pack; his fishing pole was collapsed and placed securely inside along with his compact tackle box. He was already wearing his hiking boots, having changed into them before leaving his storage unit. Everything else was in the pack, so Tony hopped out of the bed and closed the tailgate.

There was just one more thing Tony needed to grab before they could set out. He opened the driver side door of the truck and reached into the center console, pulling out his badge as well as his Sig in its holster. He secured the Sig at his side where it rested as naturally as if it were an extension of his own body. The badge he slipped into his pocket.

Tony knew it might look just a little bit paranoid to be carrying in a national park while camping, but his status as an NCIS agent was all the permission he needed to bring his gun along. He had a Swiss Army knife in his pack as well as his hidden belt knife, so Rule 9 was doubly covered.

The backup revolver strapped to his left ankle may have been overkill.

Tony wasn’t sure why he felt the need to be so heavily armed on a camping trip. He chalked it up to years of being a cop and then a federal agent. One never knew what could happen, even in the middle of nowhere. Going anywhere without a gun felt like walking out of the house naked. Tony would rather be considered paranoid than wind up dead because he was unarmed.

Tony hadn’t missed the fact that Gibbs had his own Sig secured to his side. He felt strangely reassured at the sight.

Tony hoisted his pack onto his back and secured the strap around his waist. Gibbs did the same with his own pack. With a smile at the man, Tony turned towards the trail and led the way.

“You know, this reminds me of a movie…”

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

The hike through the woods helped to calm Tony’s mind. It was odd to have a companion on the trail, but Gibbs was unobtrusive, though Tony knew that the older man was watching him with curious eyes. Tony let his senses roam, taking in the sights and sounds of spring. The trail wasn’t particularly difficult; it rose at a tolerable grade through the forest, meandering around large, old growth trees that were flush with the bright verdant hue of new foliage.

Tony had stopped talking soon after they hit the trail; his heart just wasn’t in it. He would rather enjoy the natural beauty around him and let it cleanse and soothe him. Gibbs, of course, was more than happy to maintain his silence.

It took them about half an hour to reach their campsite, which was little more than a clearing in the forest large enough for a tent or two and an old circle of stones that was obviously used as a fire pit.

There wasn’t another site or soul around for miles.

Tony smiled; this was exactly where he needed to be. He took off his pack and leaned it against a tree, grabbing his tent bag from where it was strapped to the outside of the pack. He could feel Gibbs watching him even as the other man took off his own pack. Tony had to work hard not to laugh to himself; he was sure that he was about to surprise his boss with his heretofore hidden skills.

Tony began scanning the ground where he planned to pitch the tent, picking up sticks and rocks and tossing them clear of the area. When he was satisfied, he opened his tent bag and pulled out the ground cover. With quick, efficient movements, he spread the cover out and made sure that it was square and smooth. His tent was high-quality, compact, and lightweight, designed to assemble easily and withstand a wide variety of environments. He set it up with practiced ease, running the poles through their sheaths and pitching the tent in a handful of minutes. He carefully staked everything down before putting on the fly. Stepping back, he examined his work with a critical eye before adjusting a few of the lines from the tent.

Finally satisfied, he turned to check on Gibbs and had to smile at what he saw.

Gibbs had opted for a much more militant approach. His tent was a genuine Marine-issue combat tent, complete with camouflage-colored fly that complemented Tony’s own muted green setup. Gibbs pitched it with the speed and familiarity of old habit and long drills; though his obviously took longer to set up, he was not far behind Tony. With a few more practiced movements, he was done.

Gibbs stood up and brushed the palms of his hands on khaki pants. Tony watched as Gibbs turned to examine Tony’s handiwork. The barely discernable crinkling at the corners of his eyes and the ever-so-slight upturn of his lips was all the reaction he saw, but to Tony Gibbs’ approval was as obvious as a clap on the back and a “good job”.

Tony felt a warm rush fill him up inside and had to turn away to hide his pleasure at Gibbs’ reaction. He grabbed his pack and made his way inside his tent to set up his sleeping quarters for the night. His bedroll was a simple, no-frills affair, and it took him only moments to situate everything to his satisfaction. Tony reached into his pack and grabbed his hatchet and Swiss Army knife before exiting the tent to gather some firewood.

Gibbs must’ve had the same idea because when Tony exited his tent Gibbs’ pack was gone, as was the man himself. Tony could hear him rustling around inside his tent and left him to it.

Tony stepped into the forest to gather some wood for the fire. He looked for fallen logs with bare branches sticking up from the ground; they were much more likely to be dry than wood that was actually touching the earth, plus they were smaller and easier to break apart. Tony didn’t need a large, roaring fire but rather just enough wood to cook with and tide them over until bed. They had about an hour until sundown, but Tony didn’t want to waste a lot of time hunting for firewood when most of it could wait until morning.

Tony quickly found what he needed and, with the aid of his some elbow grease and his trusty hatchet, managed to gather a respectable armful of wood in no time. He hauled his bounty to the fire ring and deposited it near the stones. Tony turned back towards his tent and grabbed a lighter and a small ball of wax mixed with dryer lint. Using his knife to shave wood chips off one of the smaller branches, Tony then placed the wax ball in the fire pit and places the wood shavings around it. With a quick flick of his lighter, he set the ball on fire.

As it burned, the fire spread to the shavings. Tony carefully fed twigs to the flames, gradually reaching for larger and larger pieces until the fire was crackling merrily. Soon he was placing the largest pieces he had on the fire, careful to keep the logs close together but with enough space to allow for airflow.

Satisfied with the quality of the blaze, Tony stood to go to his pack and almost ran smack into Gibbs. Startled, Tony jerked back violently and would have fallen into the fire if Gibbs hadn't reached out lightning-quick and grabbed his shoulders to steady him.

"Easy, DiNozzo. It's just me." Gibbs let go of Tony with a reassuring squeeze once he was sure that he was stable.

"Jeez, Gibbs, are you trying to give me a heart attack? I didn't think my ticker could take this many shocks in one day." Tony theatrically placed his hand over his heart and took deep, exaggerated breaths, hoping to hide how the sudden adrenaline rush was making his fingers shake.

Gibbs just rolled his eyes and stepped out of Tony's way. Tony stepped warily past him and grabbed his pack from his tent before returning to the fire. He pulled a compact metal grate and camp cooking set from the pack, setting them aside until the fire burned down enough to leave a decent bed of coals.

Tony focused on the task of getting food out of the pack and prepped while he waited for his heart rate to return to normal and the last of the adrenaline to fade. God, but Gibbs was sneaky! Tony thought that the man just couldn't help himself; all that Marine training had sunk deep into his bones until he became physically incapable of making unnecessary noise.

Normally Tony could handle stealthy Gibbs, but he had honestly forgotten all about the other man for a few moments, so used was he to camping in solitude. The sudden reminder of his presence combined with the adrenaline coursing through him was enough to bring his panic over the upcoming conversation back to the forefront of his mind. As usual, the panic caused Tony's mouth to start running without first consulting his brain.

"You know, Boss, you really need to watch the movie Predator. 1987, starred Arnold Schwarzenegger, Carl Weathers, Jesse Ventura, about an alien warrior hunting humans in the jungle. Invisible, deadly, savage. Very scary. A lot like you, really. Though to be fair, an argument could be made that you're actually Arnie. 'Get to da choppah!'" Tony thought he captured the accent quite well. "Though you don't quite have Arnie's build - then again, who does?"

Gibbs' snort interrupted Tony before he could really take off.

"DiNozzo, the biggest problem with your theory is that I am real, and I don't need any sci-fi alien mumbo jumbo to kick your ass from here to DC, which I will do if I hear one more movie reference before dinner!"

Gibbs' growl had turned into a roar by the end of his sentence, but Tony wasn't intimidated. He was used to Gibbs' irritation by now and secretly got a kick out of it. Chalk up another one for DiNozzo!

He grinned up at his boss, eyes sparking with mischief before turning back to the fire and their supper. The wood had burned down enough to start cooking, so Tony set the grate over the coals and placed a lightweight frying pan on to heat up. He set his percolator next to it, already prepped and ready to provide fresh coffee to soothe the savage beast in Gibbs that was demanding a sacrifice of dark roast.

Dinner didn't take long to prepare. Soon Tony was serving up two healthy portions of the hash-like concoction he had fried up, handing a plate to Gibbs who already had poured himself a cup of coffee. They ate quietly, not lingering over their food. They were finished and cleaned up faster than Tony would have liked. Coffees topped off, the silence between them suddenly grew tense as they stared into the fire.

Tony waited for Gibbs to start the conversation, in no hurry to kick things off. He felt the panic jibbering away in his mind and took a large gulp of his coffee, mouth suddenly dry.

God, I'm not ready for this.

Tony suddenly stood up with the jerky movements of a spooked horse, turning towards his tent as the last embers of daylight died a glorious death above their heads.

"Well, Boss, I'm beat. It's been a long day. I'm turning in for the night. I'll see you in the morning," Tony called to Gibbs over his shoulder, already halfway to his tent. He didn't quite make it all the way to his tent before Gibbs was on him, spinning him around and standing almost nose-to-nose, his blue eyes blazing even in the rapidly fading twilight.

"No way, DiNozzo. We had a deal. Or are you chickening out on me?"

That's exactly what I'm doing, Boss, if you'd just let me. Of course, Tony couldn't say that out loud, and he didn't like feeling cornered on top of panicked, his back already almost pressed against the door of his tent by the ferocity of Gibbs' presence. Gibbs might be the one with a reputation for being a Grade-A bastard, but DiNozzo had been taking lessons for years. Freaked out and with no way of escape, he lashed out.

"Screw you, Gibbs! I don't need this, and I certainly don't need you!"

Some dim part of his brain recognized that he sounded like a petulant teenager rebelling against his old man, but Tony was too angry and scared to care. The enormity of what he had foolishly agreed to do (Tell Gibbs? Have I gone insane?!) struck him all at once. He couldn't do it. He felt himself starting to shake, his heart pounding erratically, and suddenly he was pushing past Gibbs, practically running out of the camp and into the dark woods beyond.

He thought that he heard Gibbs yell something behind him, but he couldn't make it out over the rushing of blood in his ears. One thought rose above the chaos in his mind as he stepped out of the firelight and into the darkness: Gibbs is going to kill me.