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Tony sat very still on the bed, barely daring to breathe, and stared at Gibbs as if by doing so he could delve into the man’s mind and read his thoughts.


His interest had been piqued the moment he saw the photo album in the older man’s hand, but the seven words that launched out of Gibbs’ mouth to hang in the air between them like a harbinger of doom made the bottom of Tony’s stomach drop out and his heart stutter-step. He froze like a gazelle before the roar of a lion, completely taken by surprise.


His mind scrambled to find purchase as his thoughts tumbled and slid amongst the scree that had suddenly replaced the firm footing of his mental landscape. Gibbs’ statement, tone, and body language were so unexpected, so out of character, that Tony struggled to find something, anything, with which to compare them. The first moment that came to mind was just after Kate’s death; Gibbs had been… soft … lost… nice … Tony struggled to find a word to accurately explain that version of Gibbs and came up empty.


Tony had hated his Boss then, in those terrifying, devastating hours after Kate’s death, ashamed even as he had thought it but unable to deny the emotion as it had flooded through him. He needed Gibbs to be strong, to be mean, to be Gibbs , his rock, and the older man had faltered, albeit briefly. He knew it wasn’t fair, but he couldn’t control his reaction any more than he could have saved Kate. He had been beyond grateful when Gibbs had snapped back to his grumpy, demanding, Second B self and taken charge again.


Tony’s world had reordered itself, fixing on Gibbs as his own personal Northern Star, and he had pulled himself together and done his job. The fact that he had quietly fallen apart later, after the funeral, was acceptable only because he had held it together when it mattered - and he had only done that because Gibbs had been Gibbs in all his irritable, Ahab-ish glory.


When Gibbs had come out of his post-explosion coma, lost in a broken world fifteen years gone, Tony had found himself thrust into a position he was unsure that he could handle, but he had risen to the occasion as best he could. When Gibbs had left him - and oh, how that had hurt! - and fled to Mexico, Tony had been lost. It was a horrible four months, and the pushback from McGee and Ziva was only a small part of that misery. He could handle those two; he had known that they were hurting and taking it out on him and did not resent them for it. No, his troubles stemmed from an empty basement and a dusty, half-built boat, the smell of sawdust and coffee slowly fading away in the long weeks turned months between Gibbs leaving and returning.


Then Gibbs had returned with that creepy moustache and leaky memory, and Tony had known that he would do anything to help the older man become the Gibbs he remembered. That strangely lost, unsure version of his Boss had shaken him worse than his sudden departure four months previous. When Jenny had offered Tony that position in Rota, he’d known instantly that he wouldn’t take it. He’d drawn it out, but in his heart he knew that he couldn’t leave Gibbs. His explanation that Gibbs wasn’t ready, that the older man needed him, was just a cover hiding the deeper reason. He’d already lost Gibbs once; he didn’t think he could do it again, especially not so soon after getting him back.


Even the pain that came when Gibbs callously emptied out his desk of Tony’s belongings and dumped them unceremoniously on his old desk hadn’t been enough to drive the younger man away. He’d swallowed his demotion down and pushed it into the mental box with all the other unpleasant thoughts and memories, too loyal and relieved to see Gibbs returned to mention it. Sure, it had stung, but that was nothing new. Tony was used to being hurt.


Gibbs after Kate died and Gibbs after getting blown up - those were the closest frames of reference he had for the Gibbs who stood before him now, but neither version matched the one currently standing in front of him. Tony felt his insides clench as he mentally braced himself for impact, unsure of who, exactly, he was looking at and dreading what he would find.


The silence stretched uncomfortably between them, Tony for once unsure of what to say to diffuse the tension in the room. Gibbs shifted slightly on his feet, a subtle but sure sign that he was nervous, before moving around the bed to sit next to Tony in what was rapidly becoming a habitual position. Tony turned towards him, staring at the album in Gibbs’ hand while his stomach churned.


Tony watched, spellbound as a bird before a swaying serpent, as Gibbs’ fingers gently rubbed the cover of the album. He could have sat there for hours, silent and unmoving, but Gibbs’ voice broke through his reverie and brought him back into the moment.


“Tony, look at me.”


Tony’s head snapped up, his eyes automatically seeking Gibbs’ own, quick to obey even that gentle command from his Boss. What he saw was almost enough to send him flying off the bed in surprise and wonder.


Gibbs’ expression was open, honest, and earnest, a look that Tony had rarely if ever seen before. That sense of something being different in his Boss rose up like a tidal wave to wash over him, leaving him disoriented. Who is this man and what has he done with Gibbs?


“A lot has happened in the past several days, and you and I both know that things are changing between us. I’ve been thinking about it, and I’ve talked to Ducky a bit - no details, don't worry - and he just about tore a strip off me over some things that I think he’s been sitting on for a while. Thing of it is, he was right. You and I… well, there’s a lot to talk about.”


Tony blinked slowly, his mind hiccuping for a moment as it tried to process this version of Gibbs. He wasn’t sure where Gibbs was going with this, and frankly he would rather not have this conversation at all, but he knew Gibbs wouldn’t let it go. Besides, we both know he’s right - we do need to talk .


Tony nodded his head, encouraging the older man to continue.


“When you were on the ground, and Chip was standing over you with that belt… I’ve never felt so helpless in my life. I thought for sure he was going to kill you and I wouldn’t be able to stop him in time. I had already been thinking that some things needed to change, that we both needed to change, me especially, and then it was almost too late. I… I almost lost you…”


Gibbs trailed off, his eyes clouding over, and Tony knew he was back in the forest watching it happen again. He reached out and grabbed Gibbs’ forearm, trying to anchor him. Before he could say anything, Gibbs’ eyes cleared and he continued.


“It would’ve been like losing my girls all over again. I can’t handle that, not again. I don’t think I could survive watching you die.”


Tony’s eyes widened, and his grip on Gibbs’ arm tightened without conscious thought or control. The whole world seemed to stop; air wouldn’t expand in his lungs, his heart wouldn’t beat, nothing moved. He was frozen, seized up, caught in that moment as what Gibbs had just said - beyond implied, but outright said -- that he, Anthony D. Dinozzo, Jr., was equatable in value and worth to Shannon and Kelly Gibbs -- that outrageous, incredible, unbelievable thought - sunk in.


It seeped through his skin, down though his bones, into cracks and crevices so dark and forlorn that Tony himself didn’t know what deep and hidden things might dwell there. It spread like light, like hope, warm and golden, into cold and desolate places. It felt like… like…


Like home. Like family. Like belonging.


Like love.


The moment stretched, spun, lengthened itself, doubling over and over as the very air around them became charged with the heaviness, the weightiness, of what had finally been admitted. Neither man moved, barely dared to breathe, as Tony processed those words.


Of course, it could never be as simple as that; too many years of neglect, abandonment, hurt, and betrayal had fused together into a sharp, bitter goad that caused Tony to recoil instinctively away from what Gibbs had just offered him. He seemed to shrink in on himself, not physically but emotionally, and Tony couldn’t hide it from Gibbs as he struggled to pull away from everything he’d ever wanted, too used to being hurt with hope to risk his heart again.


He let go of Gibbs’ arm as if it burned him, putting physical distance between them as he scuttled sideways on the bed. In the space of a long breath, he was on his feet and out the door, halfway down the stairs before he was aware that he had moved. His movements were rushed and jerky, heartbeat rushing blood through him as his body demanded that he run-flee-escape-now-now-now !


He made it as far as the living room, eyes roving wildly around as he looked for an avenue of escape, but they fixed on something unexpected that stopped him in his tracks like a dog hitting the end of its leash.


There, on Gibbs’ mantle, a space had been cleared. A photo sat there, two smiling faces beaming out at him, their names like burning brands in Tony’s mind. Shannon. Kelly .


Tony couldn’t move, Gibbs’ words flooding his brain and stilling his feet as his eyes stayed locked on the photograph. In all the years he’d worked for Gibbs, he’d never really heard the older man speak of his lost family, not even after several shots of bourbon in the privacy of the basement. He’d certainly never seen any sign of them in the house; whatever evidence of their existence that Gibbs possessed was kept carefully hidden away, private and safe. They were his most precious treasure, one that Gibbs guarded jealously, fiercely, with all his formidable will and deadly experience. They were completely off-limits, no questions asked, and no amount of curiosity Tony possessed had ever been enough to convince him to inquire about them, directly or indirectly.


Tony wasn’t stupid; upon learning about Gibbs’ tragic past he had quickly slotted together several bits of information gleaned over several years of studying his Boss, assembling the missing jigsaw pieces into a more thorough understanding of the man he worked for. It hadn’t taken him long to comprehend the Gibbs-Abby dynamic in a new way or understand his Boss’ fascination with redheads and the entirely related three failed marriages. Unlike Ducky, Tony hadn’t been offended at Gibbs’ glaring omission; after all, he certainly understood the importance of keeping certain matters secret.


What he had never been able to sort out was what role he played in the Gibbs Universe. Gibbs, of course, was incredibly tight-lipped about the whole matter, leaving Tony to flounder about trying to figure it out himself. He’d certainly never expected his Boss to clarify the subject; he had always been half-afraid of what he might find out if the older man ever did.


This was far, far beyond anything he could have imagined.


Tony had only ever seen one photograph of Gibbs’ girls, and that only briefly when he glanced over the old NIS file on their death. He’d not dared to dig any deeper, sure that Gibbs would know about it and smite him for it. He’d respected the other man’s privacy, sure that if he wanted Tony to know he’d tell him directly and just as sure that the man probably never would. Tony had accepted that, made peace with it long ago, or at least thought he had.


To see them now, displayed openly in a place of honor in Gibbs’ home, was so outside the realm of anything Tony had ever expected to encounter that it literally stopped him halfway across the room on his way out the door, possibly never to return. If he had started running, Tony wasn’t sure he would ever have been able to stop. Something that big, that world-shaking, was too close to the deep desires in Tony’s heart of hearts to handle. Running seemed like the only sane thing to do.


But he couldn’t run now, feet firmly fixed on the floor of Gibbs’ living room, head still screaming to go-go-go but his heart arrested at the sight before him.


He heard Gibbs come up beside him, felt the other man lean into his space a bit as they both stared at the picture on the mantle. Tony felt his eyes prickle and burn with tears as his throat clenched half-shut, and he strained to keep them in. He felt stuck, halfway there and halfway gone, unable to leave but unable to accept what was being offered him.


It was the photo of Shannon and Kelly that had stopped him, but it wasn’t what kept him there. Instead it was the second photograph that sat next to it on the mantle, sharing the honor and pride of place, deliberately set, simply belonging where it was with a certainty and finality that could not be questioned.


Tony stared, amazed, at his own face smiling back at him, Gibbs standing resolutely at his side.

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