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Gibbs awoke with a start, ragged edges of a nightmare already fading from his memory but not his heart as he instinctively clutched the object in his arms closer to his chest. He shook his head as if to fling off the last dregs of his latest bête noire, his sleep-mussed hair catching the early morning light as it shifted with his motions.

It took him a few moments to remember where he was as the final vestiges of his sleepy fog lifted, and he belatedly realized that the object in his arms was, in fact, his Senior Field Agent. Memory of last night flooded his mind as he shifted uncomfortably. My back and neck are not going to forgive me for this.

Parts of his body certainly had yet to awaken, the static-fuzz feeling of sleeping limbs prelude to an uncomfortable revival. Gibbs noticed that Tony was still fast asleep, brow creased as if some painful thought flitted still through his mind. Gibbs frowned at that, unsure if he should shake his agent awake or let him sleep a bit longer.

Part of him was embarrassed to be in this position, and he was very glad that nobody was around to see them like this lest they either draw the wrong conclusions or decide to take photos for posterity’s sake. Abby, especially, would have been delighted to find them in such an interesting position, and Gibbs knew full well there was an office pool surrounding the exact nature of his and Tony’s relationship. This would just be fuel for the more… imaginative interpretations. Gibbs shook his head at that absurd idea, chuckling ruefully. Some people sure do like to play matchmaker in the weirdest ways.

Before he could really make up his mind one way or another as to what to do with Tony, the younger man shifted in his grip and opened his eyes, looking straight into Gibbs’ bemused gaze.

“Uh, hi, Boss. What’s going on?”

Gibbs could barely contain his grin at the sight of his agent’s sleepy confusion. His bedhead was especially profound, hair standing up at every angle imaginable. Gibbs gave the slightest squeeze of his arms as he replied, amusement hanging on every syllable.

“Well, Sleeping Beauty, I was just about to serenade you awake in my arms, but it seems you’ve shaken off the spell all on your own.”

Gibbs watched as Tony’s confusion shifted to realization and almost laughed aloud at the blush he saw rising in the younger man’s cheeks as he took in the situation. He didn’t fight as Tony sat up, sliding out of his grip as he did so and turning in the bed to half-face him.

“Oh man, I’m so sorry, Boss! I didn’t mean to, uh, ya know, fall asleep on you. I’m sure you didn’t need that.”

“It’s okay, Tony. I think we both slept better for it.”

Gibbs watched the surprise flicker across the younger man’s face before it was swallowed up in a surprisingly shy smile, Tony’s body losing its tension as he realized that Gibbs wasn’t upset. Gibbs let his affection for the other man show in his easy smile and the relaxed set of his eyes and body. I promised myself I’d tell him how important he is to me if he’d only survive. I almost lost him. Can’t waste whatever time we have left.

After Tony had fallen asleep, Gibbs had laid in bed for a while and kicked himself for all the years he’d wasted hiding himself away behind walls of seeming indifference and callous behavior designed to keep people away. He’d thought that his rare words of praise and recognition, often couched in jokes or only wrenched from him in desperate times, would be enough to show that he cared, but he knew better when it came to Tony. Tony was constantly seeking his approval and reassurance, and Gibbs had played on that, feeding him small morsels of praise to keep his agent to heel. He’d called Tony his loyal Saint Bernard, but he hadn’t worried too much about being the type of man worthy of that kind of devotion.

Oh, not that he’d consciously done all of that. It wasn’t as if he sat down one day and pondered how best to manipulate Tony to do his bidding, but the end result was the same. He’d demanded so much from Tony - from all of his agents, really - and hadn’t given much consideration to what he may owe in return. He figured they knew that he’d take a bullet for them, that he’d die for them, that his door was open to them, but beyond that… Gibbs had left a lot unsaid and undone.

Can’t change the past. All I can do is move forward and do my best. Time to man up, Marine.

Despite his resolve, Gibbs was unsure of exactly how to execute his promise. He was set in his ways, but he knew he needed to change for Tony’s sake. He’d decided last night to speak with Ducky about the situation; he could count on the other man’s discretion and wisdom. Not that he intended to tell Ducky the secrets that Tony had spilled; that was for the other man to share if and when he was ready.

He was brought back to the present when Tony shifted off the bed, standing carefully and looking at the mess of the broken lamp on the floor.

“Don’t worry about the lamp, Tony. I’ll clean it up after we eat. Why don’t you hit the head and take a shower. I’ll see what Ziva has for us for breakfast.”

Gibbs would have offered to help Tony into the shower, but he knew there was no way the younger man would accept his assistance after waking up in his arms, no matter how innocent the context. Tony needed some time alone to reset himself, and Gibbs would give it to him.

“Sure thing, Boss.”

Gibbs swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, wincing as his sleeping limbs began to awaken. Pins and needles shot through him, and he couldn’t hide his limp as he made his way over to the dresser and pulled some clothes out for Tony. He handed them to the younger man as he made his way out the door and down the stairs, holding onto the railing as his tingling legs weren’t quite up to snuff yet.

The first thing he did was start a full pot of coffee, pulling out hazelnut creamer and sugar that Ziva had thoughtfully stocked. He made quick work of getting breakfast ready, finding some sort of quiche dish that only needed reheating. While that was warming, he got Tony’s morning round of meds ready and set them beside Tony’s place at the table.

We’ve been doing this enough that Tony has a place. We have a routine.

The thought pulled Gibbs up short for a few moments before he smiled and turned to the coffee pot, pouring himself a generous mug of the fresh brew and chugging half of it with a contented sigh. He refilled his cup just as Tony made his slow way into the kitchen and made a beeline for the same pot. Gibbs motioned him to the table in the dining room as he poured the other man a cup, nodding to the creamer and sugar set directly in front of Tony’s spot when he handed him the steaming mug.

While Tony doctored his coffee and took his first few sips of the day, Gibbs pulled the pyrex dish of quiche out of the oven and served up two generous helpings onto plates, setting them at each of their spots before seating himself comfortably.

The next few moments were devoid of conversation as both men tore into their breakfasts. Gibbs was surprised at how hungry he was, and he was glad to see that Tony wasn’t lacking an appetite, either. He’d been scaling back the pain meds since he’d left the hospital, and that combined with the improved food quality seemed to have improved his hunger levels.

Gibbs made a point to stare intently at Tony and the tiny plastic cup with his morning meds. Tony rolled his eyes but dutifully swallowed the pills, washing them down with a generous gulp of coffee. Satisfied, Gibbs returned to the last bites of his breakfast. Soon enough, they had both finished their plates.

“Want more?” Gibbs asked.

“Nah, I’m good, Boss. Thanks.”

Gibbs gathered their plates and forks and took them to the sink where he made quick work of washing them and stacking them in the drain rack to dry. He put the leftover quiche away before refilling his cup and making his way to the front door to grab the paper. He sat back down at the table and pulled out the sports section, passing it to Tony, before turning to the front page.

They sat in companionable silence, reading the news and sipping their coffee. It was all very domestic, and Gibbs felt a pang go through him as he realized just how content he felt. It had been a long time since he’d had anybody to share his mornings with, and he found himself wishing that Tony would never go back to his apartment.

Strange how fate has thrown us together. I lost my family, and Tony’s never really had one to speak of. We’re two ships adrift at sea, joining broken forces together to form some strange armada. Wonder what Shannon would think if she could see us now. She’d love Tony, I’m sure of it, and Kelly would have wrapped him around her little finger with ease.

Gibbs was surprised that the thought of his dead wife and daughter didn’t bring with it the soul-crushing pain that normally accompanied their memory. Instead, there was a low ache in his chest mixed with love that hadn’t faded the slightest, even after all these years. It hurt, but there was a sweetness in it, too, that kept the dark clouds away.

Gibbs folded his paper and set it down on the table, looking at the man across from him as he took another sip of his coffee. He thought about what he was going to say to the other man, about how much there was still to discuss. He wasn’t quite ready yet breach the heavier subjects; he wanted to run things by Ducky first. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was already past 0800. He stood up, taking a last swig of coffee before turning towards the stairs.

“Gonna go clean up the broken lamp now. If you take the last of the coffee, make another pot. I’ll be back shortly.”

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

The day passed in a blur of movies, woodworking, food, and meds. Gibbs had made short work of the broken lamp before Tony made his way back to the guest room where he made himself comfortable with another movie that Gibbs thought he might have seen before but didn't stick around to watch. He'd made a beeline for his basement where he pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and some simple drafting tools. He had an idea for a new boat, one that he would actually keep this time, one that he could share with Tony.

He'd thought it up over breakfast, the idea coming to him like lightening in a clear sky, and he'd latched onto it immediately. He knew that Tony was curious about sailing, and he privately wondered if the younger man already knew how to sail and was keeping that a secret, too. He'd spent several hours drawing up plans for a new sailboat. His previous boats had all been 22' sloops, but he wanted a larger one this time. He'd settled on a 27' sloop that would just barely fit in his basement. Getting it out would be tricky, but he could do it. He might even share with Tony his secret of how he did it.

After dinner, Tony had said he was tired and going to bed, so Gibbs had seen him settle in before returning to the basement. He was drawing up lists of what lumber and tools he would need to start on the new boat when he heard footsteps on the basement stairs. They were too light to be Tony's, and he lifted his gaze just in time to see Ducky remove his hat as he made his way down the steps.

"Ah, Jethro, I just got your message about half an hour ago. I was busy working on a body for Balboa's team most of the afternoon, a particularly unusual case, I must say. A marine corporal was found stripped naked, tied to a pier, and left to the ravages of the incoming tide, but not before having a scuba tank placed on his back with the breathing apparatus in his mouth. Unfortunately for the poor fellow, they had provided him not with oxygen but rather helium. The mystery seems to be over whether this was a prank gone sadly wrong or a rather sadistically inventive murder."

Gibbs figured he better head Ducky off before the older man segued into one of his seemingly infinite you know, this reminds me of a time... stories that could lead anywhere and go on forever. He turned to retrieve the two jars he'd prepped earlier for the bourbon he knew they would wind up sharing, pouring a healthy serving in each and handing one over to Ducky as he spoke.

"Duck, I need your advice on something."

Ducky's eyebrows went up at that, and the older man sat himself on Gibbs' shop stool and took a sip of the bourbon with a look that said continue, Jethro.

"It's about Tony."

"With you, Jethro, it often is. I don't suppose this has anything to do with the mysterious reason the two of you wound up in Shenandoah National Park, does it?"

Gibbs had been very tight-lipped with both his team and the Director as to what, exactly, he and Tony had been doing over the weekend. He didn't want to share Tony's secrets, so he'd dodged their questions in his usual ways: glares, pointed changes of subject, and outright ignoring them. It had worked; the Director didn't really care enough to risk pushing him, having apparently learned to choose his battles, and his team knew better than to try.

"Yeah, Duck, it does."

Gibbs frowned as he took a sip of his bourbon, wondering how exactly to explain to Ducky his predicament without giving away too much. He knew that his long-time friend could be discreet when the situation called for it; the man had learned and forgotten more secrets than Gibbs would ever know.

"Jethro, you know that you do not have to tell me anything that was revealed to you in confidence, nor do you have to tell me that you desire this conversation to be kept private as well. Anything we say here will never leave this basement without your permission. Tell me what you can, old friend, and we shall work from there."

Gibbs smiled at the genial, perceptive medical examiner, once again glad that his friend could read him so well. Outside of Tony and perhaps Tobias Fornell on a good day, there was nobody better at it, and it set him at ease.

"I almost lost him this time, Duck. We've come close before, but this was different. We... talked about some things, and I learned some things about Tony that really helped put who he is to me into perspective. When Chip was standing over him with the belt, I... I thought..."

Gibbs trailed off, staring into space somewhere between him and Ducky. He didn't realize it, but he was gripping the edge of his work table as though it was the only thing keeping him from falling off the face of the earth. He could still see the glint of the belt buckle in the late evening sunlight, could see the flecks of blood on Chip's face and the fresh droplets flung from the buckle to sprinkle the leaves around them. That helpless feeling rose up in him again, mixed with the fear that he wouldn't get there in time, wouldn't be able to stop him before he killed Tony. Tony, face down on the ground and screaming like a wounded animal in a trap.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up into the concerned blue eyes of Ducky.

"Jethro, breathe. You are not in the forest anymore; we are in your basement. Charles Sterling is dead, and young Anthony is safely ensconced in your guest room. It's okay, Jethro. You're both okay."

Gibbs found himself gulping in deep breaths, shaking his head to clear it of the horrifying memories of Tony's blood and screams. He felt fine tremors running through him into Ducky's arm, and it pissed him off that he couldn't control himself better. He grabbed his jar of bourbon and threw back a large mouthful, focusing on the burn as it slid down into his stomach to steady himself.

"I'm alright, Duck. I'm alright."

Ducky continued to stare at him for a few long moments before giving his shoulder a squeeze and stepping back to resume his perch on the stool.

Gibbs mentally winced as he looked at Ducky, sure that the other man recognized his symptoms for what they were. Damned PTSD. I hate this crap. Gibbs was no stranger to post-traumatic stress disorder, having been through it more than once in the Corps and as an NCIS agent, but this particular bout seemed especially potent. His previous experiences had manifested as nightmares, insomnia, and general irritability, but he wasn't used to having vivid flashbacks like this. The hypervigilance was even more prevalent than usual, too, especially when he had still been in the hospital with Tony.

 Gibbs decided to ignore the flashback for now, focusing instead on what he'd initially called Ducky to discuss.

"I thought I'd lose him this time, Duck. I didn't think I could get to him fast enough. Just when I was finally pulling my head out of my ass enough to realize what was right in front of me, somebody like Chip comes along and I almost lost everything. Don't think I could take that, not again."

Gibbs had never told Ducky about his moment on the beach after his girls died, looking down the barrel of his own gun and contemplating pulling the trigger. It had been close, far closer than he'd ever want to admit. Still, he figured that the other man at least suspected something like that had happened, though he'd never brought it up. By the understanding look on Ducky's face as he studied him, Gibbs reckoned he was right.

"I suppose the question is, are you going to allow this experience to hinder you, or are you going to use it to improve your relationship with Anthony and, by extension, the rest of us? It's no secret to me that you love the young man like a son, though I'd wager good money that you've never come out and said it. You're far too recalcitrant regarding emotional expression for that, and Anthony has been so emotionally starved that he wouldn't even begin to request you say it even if he does need it for fear that he'd lose what little he has."

Gibbs shook his head softly in confirmation of Ducky's theory, and the older man continued with a stern, knowing look.

"You want to know what to do with Anthony, hmm? You and I both know that you already know what to do. Tell the young man how much he means to you, and back it up with your actions. No more dropping tiny scraps of praise to make him come to heel. He's not a dog, Jethro, nor does he deserve to be jerked around by your unthinking disregard for his emotional well-being. Life doesn't often hand you second chances at family, and you'd be a bloody fool not to take it, no matter what the risk."

As Ducky spoke, his brogue thickened in that way it did when he was truly upset, and Gibbs had the feeling that the older man had been wanting to say this for a while now. Considering that the ME rarely had an issue with letting Gibbs know his opinion, Gibbs was surprised that he'd waited so long to express it. Guess he figured I wouldn't listen, and he's probably right. I needed a solid kick in the pants first.

"You're right, Duck, and I was wrong," Gibbs said with a sigh, running his hand over his face.

His admission seemed to pull the Scot up short, cutting him off before he could really get a full head of steam going. Gibbs filled the silence by taking another small sip of his bourbon, not making eye contact with the other man. When the ME finally resumed speaking, his voice was not quite back to it's normal light Scottish lilt.

"I know it's difficult to risk reaching out to somebody when you've spent so much time protecting yourself, especially after a great tragedy, but if you live the rest of your life behind your walls, can you really say you've lived? That's a very lonely, desperate way to go through life, Jethro. It's not fair to Anthony, and it's also not fair to Shannon and Kelly."

Gibbs' head jerked up at that, his gaze meeting that of the older man, a stinging retort ready to fire, but the serious expression on the other man's face caused him to hold back. They stared at each other for a moment before Gibbs gestured with a short nod of his head for the ME to continue, body stiff but eyes saying he was willing to listen.

"Do you think Shannon and Kelly would be happy with the way you've been living? Do you think Shannon would want you to continue stumbling from relationship to relationship trying to recapture something that can never be reclaimed? Do you think Kelly would like to see her father shutting the world out and blocking off the loving heart she knows him to possess? You dishonor their memory in doing so by hiding away the man they loved. I understand why you did, but it's time to let it go, Jethro. Stop punishing yourself for your perceived failure to save them and let yourself be happy again."

As Ducky's words sank in, Gibbs found himself barely able to maintain his composure as he realized the older man was right about all of it. He thought of his girls long gone and the hard, lonely years sprawling between then and now, all the wasted opportunities, and he was suddenly very grateful that his friend had the guts to point out what nobody had ever dared to mention. Everyone knew that Shannon and Kelly were off-limits; nobody even so much as whispered their names in his hearing. He'd lost years with his father that he could never reclaim, burned through three marriages trying to find that spark of life and love again, and had pushed away almost every person who tried to breach his walls. Oh, a few had made it through, but it was nothing like it could have been.

Ducky's risked our friendship to tell me the truth; the least I can do is listen. The man's tongue is as sharp and accurate as his scalpel.

Feeling suddenly exposed, Gibbs wanted nothing more than to escape the pressure of Ducky's presence, but he held himself still. Running won't fix anything. It'll only make things worse and prove his point. Besides, gotta start somewhere.

Gibbs looked at Ducky, and as the other man searched his expression he apparently found what he was looking for because his confrontational posture relaxed and his eyes softened.

"It takes a great deal of courage to allow oneself to become emotionally vulnerable and to feel deeply. It is certainly easier to run or entomb oneself in seeming indifference, but in the end it leaves one hollow and wasted. You know that I am here for you, but you are the one who has to the difficult work of reaching out. It will require you both to admit that you have been wrong and to change your ways. You've already begun the first; I have no doubt that you will succeed in both areas if you put forth your best effort."

With that, Ducky hopped off the stool and reached for his coat and hat, taking a last sip of his bourbon before setting it on the table. He donned his effects as he mounted the stairs with a do let me know if there's anything I can do for either of you, Jethro. Before Gibbs could even begin to put himself back together, Ducky was gone.

He stood alone in his basement, plans for his new boat spread across his workbench, thinking deep thoughts.

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