"You okay?"

This was the second time Kate Todd had seen her fellow agent grab onto the side of the van in an effort to keep upright.

"Just dizzy," Tony DiNozzo muttered, squinting at the green-lit surveillance screens in the dark confines of what, for more than half the week, had been their four-wheeled prison. "How much longer are we going to wait, anyway?"

"Patience, DiNozzo." Gibbs leaned in toward the nearest monitor. "You'll get to run in, weapon at ready, soon enough."

"We've been on this surveillance four days and nights, boss. I just think we deserve a little downtime."

"If you're bucking for that sick day again, forget it." The senior agent looked up, the green light reflected from the screens haloing his graying hair. "So help me, if you call in sick tomorrow, you better be dead."

"Yeah, yeah." DiNozzo waved him off. "I got that part loud and clear. No rest for the weary."

"Or in your case," observed Gibbs after a sip of what had to be his fourteenth straight cup of coffee, "the wicked."

He put the cup down. "You see that?"

"Oh yeah, it's going down." Kate's hand moved automatically to check the position of her weapon.

"Let's rock and roll, agents," said Gibbs sliding the van door open.

"Finally," muttered DiNozzo. He stumbled as he stepped from the van, earning a frown from Gibbs in the process.

Yeah, this was definitely the way to get on Gibbs' good side. Not that he'd actually found which side of Gibbs might be considered 'good' even after two years of close proximity.

~oOo~

"No, DiNozzo. What part of the two letters don't you understand? The ‘N’ or the ‘O’?"

Tony’s head was still spinning, but at least it was a casual kind of slow loop-de-loop and not the gut-twisting carnival ride that had landed him on his butt at the bottom of the stairs of his apartment building that morning. "I just need a day or two. A small break."

"Let me guess," said Gibbs. "You've got expiring frequent flyer miles? You've won a free weekend at some condo place up in the Adirondacks?"

"Really, boss. I just need a break."

Gibbs sauntered over to the younger agent's desk and flipped open the top folder of a Pisa-esque tower of paperwork. "Your status report on the McKinley case should have been done two weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago you had us camped out in Trailers-R-Us looking for stolen jet parts."

"You could have taken your paperwork."

"Taken my--" DiNozzo suddenly grabbed at the desk as the room did a brief imitation of a Tilt-A-Whirl. "Whoa."

"Yo, DiNozzo."

Tony shook his head to try to clear the vertigo.

"Go see an ear, nose and throat guy and get that inner ear thing fixed. I don't want you pulling your weapon one day and falling flat on your face. You got it?"

"Oh yeah. I got it." DiNozzo managed a pitifully fake smile. "I got it."

~oOo~

"Hey, boss." DiNozzo hunched his tall, rangy body into the chair across from Gibbs’ own. "You know that ear thing that was making me dizzy?"

"Yeah." Gibbs looked up from his e-mail when the silence became lengthy. "You got something to tell me, or are you just gonna sit there and stare blankly until I give you that sick day you've been whining for?"

"Um," Tony licked dry lips and his hand pushed back the wayward strands of his hair. "I took your advice and saw a doctor. Actually I've seen a couple of them at this point. It's not my ears." He apparently found something terribly fascinating about the few inches of Gibbs' desk directly in front of him. "It's MS."

This was just a murmur and Gibbs had to lean forward to try to catch it. "Multiple sclerosis?" he confirmed just to be sure he'd heard the whispered words.

"Uh, yeah, from my symptoms they think it's the progressive kind, maybe the kind that doesn't go into remission." He pushed a piece of paper across the desktop with a hand that was more than a little shaky. "That's... that's my resignation. I..." Now that he really looked at him, DiNozzo looked stunned and more than a little lost. "I'll clean out my desk tomorrow. I think I have disability insurance. I pay for something, or maybe that was life insurance." Pushing himself up from the chair, he swayed a little as the disorder stealing his balance made itself known again. "I, uh, I'll tell the others."

"Tony!" Gibbs rose to reach across and latch a hand onto DiNozzo's arm as the younger man’s knees gave. "Sit down. That's an order."

Still looking dazed, Tony merely mumbled "yes, boss" and sank back into the chair.

Gibbs cursed silently. This wasn't his forte. Gibbs was an interrogator, and not exactly of the finesse type. He wasn't much of a manager, either, at least in the touchy-feely department, and comfort wasn't something he had a lot of skill at - you could ask his ex-wives. But he kept his hand on DiNozzo's bicep as the younger man eased himself back down into the chair.

"Stay there," he ordered. "I'm going to go get my stuff and then I'm going to drive you home. Okay?"

DiNozzo's eyes were locked on the hand clasping his arm as if he expected it to make a sudden move he'd need to defend against. "I can take a cab. I took one over here."

Shit. How long had DiNozzo not been driving?

"Stay," Gibbs repeated. "Do not move from that chair until I get back."

~oOo~

"Which way?"

Their ride had finally ended in one of those trendy, upscale apartment complexes, the kind with willow trees curtaining manicured walking trails. And, Gibbs noted sourly, stairs. Lots of stairs.

"Second floor, building B."

The only time DiNozzo had spoken the entire trip was to give him directions, so he pulled silently up at the foot of the building, parking next to a concrete and steel outer staircase.

Christ. As ditzy as DiNozzo's balance had been on the walk to the parking garage, there's no way he should be going up and down that.

"This place got an elevator?"

A short bark of laughter greeted the question. "Nope."

Probably, mused Gibbs, a short bark of laughter was exactly what it deserved. DiNozzo staggered slightly as he got out of the car, but shook it off. When he reached the offending staircase he took the right-side rail in hand and levered himself up the first riser.

Gibbs watched as the younger man's left leg nearly gave as he mounted the step, his own guilt growing. How long had this been this bad and how the hell did no one notice? How the hell did he not notice? It had seemed like the kid had taken to daily whining ... Christ, not whining. He'd complained he was tired and dizzy. Always dizzy. And Gibbs had told him to shut up. Repeatedly. It was Todd who'd finally badgered the younger man enough that he found a doctor, and not without a few little private asides of griping of her own.

Tony stopped beside one of the identically neutrally-painted doors. "Okay, you got me here. Thanks, by the way. I'd invite you in but I'm not much of a housekeeper."

"You going to be okay tonight?"

DiNozzo palmed the wall to keep himself steady. "Yeah. Sure."

Gibbs nodded. "Then I'll see you in the morning."

"What? Why?"

"I never approved that sick day." Headed back down the stairs, Gibbs turned back to look one more time at his junior agent. DiNozzo was struggling a bit with the lock, but Gibbs ignored it. "Seven o'clock and I don't want to wait."

Confused, and still rocked by dizziness, DiNozzo did what came naturally to him, at least where Gibbs was concerned -- he demurred. "Yeah, boss. Seven o'clock."

~oOo~

"I thought you'd gone home." The medical examiner watched Gibbs pace around the autopsy table, oblivious to the open chest of their latest victim. "I was just about to weigh the heart, if you're looking for some entertainment."

"Ducky, what do you know about MS?"

"Interesting lesions in the white matter at autopsy. Axonal transaction identified by the presence of terminal Axonal ovoids."

"Ducky..."

"May I ask for what reason you are asking? Is this about the case?"

"It's about DiNozzo. Those dizzy spells he's been getting."

"I see," said Ducky, lowering his head slightly and giving a small pat of condolence to the face of the corpse who was having to wait. "The central nervous system controls much of the body's functioning, and much of that activity passes through the white matter at some point. White matter is rather like the body's optical cable."

"And that's what makes him dizzy?"

"Vestibular ataxia. Lesions in the white matter can produce all manner of symptoms: blindness, paralysis, spasticity, tremors, loss of bladder and bowel control, impotence."

"Ducky, I don't need the whole encyclopedia." Gibbs hissed sharply. "It's bad, then, I mean, that's what you're saying."

"Actually it's rather a fickle disease. But, if I remember correctly, patients who experience a sudden onset of motor symptoms tend to be hit harder than someone whose first symptom is, say, optic neuritis."

"Tremors? Trouble walking? That kind of thing?"

The pathologist looked long and hard at the chief field agent. "Yes. That... sort of thing."

Gibbs gave a small frown. "Is it fatal?"

"Not generally, no. His life span should be normal. His energy level will suffer."

"And he could end up paralyzed in a wheelchair."

"Possibly," Ducky picked up a wicked looking electric saw, contemplating the inner workings of the body on display in front of him. "I believe the most common symptom is fatigue."

"Can he keep working?"

"I'd rather think that would be up to him. The associated cognitive dysfunction is usually quite mild and I think it's mainly a matter of speed of performance not the performance itself. So, yes, Anthony should be able to work, probably not in the field, but possibly in research. It would be best if I get you the number of my good friend, Sherri Lenz, she's a specialist in the field. I am not qualified-"

"This isn't on the record, Ducky. I just wanted an idea of what we're working with here."

Gibbs looked at the silent member of their trio. The vic was young, probably about DiNozzo's age. There were worse things than a diagnosis. Ending up on Ducky's table, being one of them.

"I better go; you've got a... date" Gibbs gestured at the burdened gurney. "I'll let you know... something."

"Please do that." Ducky pulled the down the clear protective eye gear and fired up the saw. Then he shut it back off. "Jethro--"

Gibbs stiffened at his given name. "Yes, Donald."

"If he wants to work," Ducky's lilting accent always reminded him of a paternal English prep school teacher, "you should let him try."

"I'll take that into consideration, Dr. Mallard."

~oOo~

It was a little past seven when Gibbs again rolled to a stop outside the well-kept apartment building. No DiNozzo in sight. With a sigh, Gibbs put on the parking brake and left the car running in the early morning chill. He bounded up the stairs, his steps pounding a steady rhythm on the concrete risers.

Lifting a fist to knock on DiNozzo’s door, he found it swung open instead and could barely pull the punch that threatened. Equally as startled, Tony stepped backward and his slow left foot caught on the rug, sending him butt-hard on the floor, left leg crumpled under him.

"Sorry about that, DiNozzo." Gibbs reached a hand to haul him up, but took no more notice of the episode than that. Tony brushed himself off then, limping slightly, shut the door and silently followed Gibbs out onto the landing.

So that, Tony supposed, was the way it was going to be – Gibbs was going to be "Gibbs." And he was going to, what, pretend he didn’t have a debilitating condition that would eventually lead to his very early retirement? Gibbs might have a control-freak nature and think this could be overcome by sheer willpower, but Gibbs didn’t have a carnival ride spinning in his head, didn’t have a half-numb leg slowing him down.

Gibbs went down the stairs much slower than he’d gone up them, a hand on the railing, using his body to unobtrusively shield Tony in case the younger man stumbled again. If he fell, it was going to be into him, not down the steep steps.

~oOo~

The ride had, again, been made in remarkable silence, considering DiNozzo’s usual propensity to talk his way through … anything.

Gibbs swung into the Starbucks drive-through and fished out his wallet. "How do you take your coffee?"

"You’re buying me coffee?"

"Don’t look so shocked, DiNozzo; I’m sure I’ve bought you coffee before."

Tony fiddled nervously with the knob to the glove compartment. "No, you haven’t."

"Okay, well I’m buying you coffee now. How do you take it?"

"Um…"

"I’ve seen you drink coffee, DiNozzo. It shouldn’t be that hard a question."

Tony swallowed hard. "Black is fine."

Gibbs nodded in approval. "Good choice."

~oOo~

"We having a meeting, Gibbs?"

"Of a sort," Gibbs gestured to one of the free seats in Abby’s lab and Kate joined the lab tech and Ducky on the rolling chairs.

Abby silently swung her seat back and forth while the three of them waited. Even the avuncular ME was strangely quiet. And Gibbs was uncharacteristically in motion, pacing a precise three steps to one side and then three steps to the other.

"We’re waiting on Tony?" surmised Kate when the uncomfortable silence became lengthy.

"Ah," Gibbs crossed his arms across his chest, "no."

"Okay," acknowledged Kate. "Then we’re waiting on …"

"Me," admitted Gibbs. "There’s an issue we need to discuss."

"And this issue concerns Tony." Kate found herself suddenly defensive of her sometime partner, "I mean he’s not here, so—"

"Tony asked that I do this." Gibbs ducked his head before looking back up. "Not that it’s making me particularly comfortable. Tony has been diagnosed with MS."

"It’s the cause of the dizziness he has been experiencing," put in the medical examiner, leaning forward. "I’m afraid the current prognosis is not particularly kind. His physician believes the onset of his symptoms point to a non-remitting diagnosis."

Abby frowned. "So Tony’s going to wind up in a wheelchair?"

"That is a possibility." Ducky clasped his hands together. "He has shown symptoms of vestibular ataxia and numbness in his legs."

"Our main concern right now is that he can’t go into the field. I’ve spoken with the director about transferring McGee to Tony’s position. If we realigned the job duties and created a research position--"

Kate found herself unable to get past the lab tech’s prognostication. "It’s hard to think of Tony … handicapped."

"Yeah, but if you think about it, he's already been working with a handicap." Abby sucked thoughtfully at the Big Gulp she’d retrieved from her desk. "His parents are filthy stinkin' rich."

"You're kidding me," said Kate

Gibbs had tilted his head slightly taking in this new information.

"Nope," replied Abby, "heard of NewGen BioMed? Started out in med supplies. Now they’ve got their greedy little corporate hands in medical imaging and, get this, DNA sequencing." Abby leaned back in the lab chair, tilting up on her toes. "Multi-million dollar, closely held, family company."

Kate shook her head as if trying to rattle the idea into place. "Family being … DiNozzo?"

"He said his father bought him a chain saw," said Gibbs, frowning.

"Unlikely," divined Abby. "Tony’s been officially disowned. Kind of like Charles VI, or Jackie Chan in The Legend of Drunken Master."

"And you know all this because…" Kate prodded.

"I was working late one night and Tony, I guess he didn’t have anything better to do, so we talked."

"Admittedly, Tony can be…" Kate paused, searching for the right descriptor "…immature. But what did he do that made them disown him?"

"Became a cop," supplied the forensic specialist, sliding the straw up and down in the sweating plastic cup.

Gibbs’ face took on a sharp, pinched look. "His father disowned him for becoming a cop?"

"I think he was hoping for a new vice president instead of a patrol officer."

"Tony’s rich." The way Kate repeated it, it sounded almost whimsical.

"Tony was rich," corrected Abby.

The dark-haired agent exchanged a look with Gibbs. "You think they know?"

~oOo~

"It’s a dog."

"Yes, he is. And his name is Rufus."

"Rufus," repeated Tony. He had the vague feeling he should be … suspicious. "Big dog."

"Yes, he is." Gibbs handed him the leash. "But you’re a pretty big guy."

"I don’t get it." Tony never tightened his hand around the leather loop and it simply fell to the floor. "I can barely take care of myself, boss. I don’t think a pet is the best—"

"Not ‘pet’. Service dog. If you two work well together, that is. He’s specially trained to help people with balance problems walk."

"You’re kidding me."

"No."

"Is this a condition of my continued employment?" asked Tony, eyeing the dog warily.

He didn’t notice Gibbs kneeling down until he felt the hand on his knee. Then he turned his head so quickly that the carnival ride snuck up on him. "Whoa."

"Tilt-a-whirl?" asked Gibbs.

"Himalaya in reverse."

Gibbs braced him with a hand against his shoulder. Tony’s other knee was now supporting a fair amount of large, furry weight. Tony waved them both off, not sure what to make of the double show of support.

"A dog, boss? You got me a dog?"

~oOo~

The light hurt his eyes and he squinted at the two blurry copies of Gibbs, trying to mentally force them to combine into one seriously scowling likeness. Two Gibbs were more than he could handle right now. "I thought they called Abby."

"They did. I just happened to be there at the time."

"I wanted Abby," protested Tony, trying to not make the whining sound like … whining.

"Well, she was in the middle of something, so you got me."

Gibbs bent down and peered at the shiner rapidly swelling Tony’s right eye shut. He looked reproachfully over at Rufus who whimpered in the corner where someone had tied him to the treatment room’s supply cabinet.

"Don’t look at him that way. It wasn’t his fault."

"Stairs," surmised Gibbs, lightly touching Tony’s wrapped wrist. "You fell down the fucking stairs."

"Well, grace never was one of my attributes. Ask Todd."

"You’re moving."

Tony tried to clear his aching head. "What?"

"You’re moving," repeated Gibbs.

"I’ve got a two-year lease."

"Then you’re breaking it." Gibbs caught himself starting to push back the lock of hair curling drunkenly over Tony’s forehead and quickly lowered his open hand. "Better it than you."

Lending his grip, he let Tony pull himself up. "They said you can go, but just take it easy. Sit there while I untie Rufus." He turned back to see DiNozzo holding himself upright with a white-knuckled grip on the gurney. "What part of ‘sit still’ escaped you, DiNozzo?"

He wrapped Tony’s free hand around the harness, feeling Rufus instinctively position himself to give the swaying body stability. Then with a gentle prodding he managed to separate the tightly clasped fingers from the gurney frame.

"Let go, Tony. I’ve got you." When DiNozzo finally stopped swaying he took the first step toward the door. "Tonight you’re coming home with me."

"You’ve got stairs," mumbled Tony.

"And I’d advise you to avoid them."

"Gibbs."

"It’s got a first floor master bedroom, you know that."

"That would be your bedroom, boss."

Gibbs tucked an arm around the younger man’s waist, ignoring the protest. "Not tonight."

~oOo~

"How come you never told me your folks were rich?"

"How come you never told me, like …anything," countered Tony.

"Okay," Gibbs straddled the kitchen chair. "What do you want to know?"

"What’s with the ex-wives?"

"Same reason you’re here." Gibbs ducked his head. "I’m a sucker for a pretty face."

Tony sighed. "I didn’t say anything about answering honestly, did I?

Gibbs took a reflective sip of his coffee. "No, you didn’t."

"I’ll never learn."

"No, you won’t." He tried not to let the confused look on Tony’s face cause him to reveal any more than he had already. "So, the folks are rich?"

"Wealthy. They would never say ‘rich’."

"So, what are you doing sitting my kitchen?"

"Ah," Tony looked around the small but tidy room. "I wasn’t exactly keen on following in my father’s footsteps."

"You talk to them?"

"Mother’s Day. I call once a year on Mother’s Day."

"She talk to you?"

"She tells me that if I just give up these stupid ideas about being in law enforcement I’ll be welcomed back with open arms."

"Would you?"

Tony looked down at Rufus who was busy draping himself over his shoes. The large, furry body hid the new brace that strengthened his left leg.

"With a wheelchair looming in my future? That wasn’t in my father’s plan either." DiNozzo squinted in the direction of the small window over the sink. "You have kids with any of those ex-wives, boss?"

"Nope."

Tony picked up his own cup. "Good choice."

~oOo~

"What’s up, Abs?" Tony blinked at the bright orange mass blocking his usual path. He swayed a bit and Rufus counterpulled, steadying him. "What is it?"

"What it looks like."

"Ah … yeah." The lab tech turned around to catch DiNozzo putting out a hand toward the life raft she had sitting on two saw horses. His fingers stretched out to brush the reinforced fabric then his palm cupped around the curved edge following the smooth bulk until he reached the rope handle. More confident now, he straightened, returning his hand to his side. "You expecting a flood?"

"Uh …" Abby watched as Tony used the strangled syllable to refix on her position. "It’s from the Rivera case."

Satisfied he’d picked the Goth’s white lab coat out from the bland mosaic of the rest of the lab, Tony fastened his gaze on the oval of her face, pale beneath her darkened hair.

"You … okay, Tony?"

"Got a little problem, actually."

"You need to sit down?"

"No, I …" Tony ducked his head. "It’s not my legs. It’s my … uh …" Tony’s forced smile was more of a grimace than a grin, "… I can’t read the computer screen anymore, even with the font pumped all the way up, and if I can’t do database searches there’s not much left I can do. I just thought you might—"

"We can fix this."

DiNozzo smiled, a real smile this time. "Abby, I’d think you could fix most anything. I guess that’s why I’m here. I’m just not sure this is … fixable."

"Tony, my parents are deaf. When the phone or the doorbell rings their lights go on and off. When I want to talk to them, I used the TTDY. And when I want to talk to them in person, I sign. I’m thinking somebody’s probably worked on your computer problem before."

"If it’s something that needs to be requisitioned, we’ll have to tell Gibbs."

"And that’s a … bad thing," deduced Abby.

Tony sighed. "I’m thinking it’s not a good one."

~oOo~

"Anthony, I do not think I am the proper physician—"

"Just look at him, Ducky." Abby nodded encouragingly at the ME as she helped Tony hoist himself on the exam table.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"My vision’s getting worse. It’s like I’m trapped in an early Kandinsky."

"Around the time he founded Der Blaue Reiter?" Ducky grinned. "He gave this wonderful quote. Color is the keyboard, the eyes are the harmonies, the soul is the piano with many strings."

"Forget I said it," moaned Tony.

"There is nothing wrong with being a connoisseur of the fine arts." The medical examiner gently lifted the right eyelid. Tony blinked at the intrusion of the beam from the penlight. Then he repeated the action. "Your pupilary response seems adequate."

"I see the light. I just don’t see much else."

"Color?"

"Yeah, color is still there, maybe not so … bright. Just no detail." Tony brought his hand up, his errant fingers soundly smacking his reluctant physician in the nose. "Sorry!" In embarrassment he launched himself off the cold metal of the table and, legs not prepared to hold him, nearly landed face down in the floor, but two pairs of arms wrapped around him, steadying him.

"Easy," soothed the Englishman. "Come on." Together he and Abby wrestled him back on the table. "Stay there." A hand patted Tony’s shoulder before the ME shuffled away.

"We have nearly everything in that storeroom. I believe, if I’m not mistaken, there is still an evidence box in there from Jethro’s first case." Tony tilted his head in the direction of the scuffle the ME seemed to be having with whatever he’d dragged out of storage. "This is a Snellen eye chart, devised in 1862 by Dr. Hermann Snellen, an Ophthalmologist of the Dutch persuasion. If you would, measure off twenty feet and mark it, Abby."

"Sure."

"Come stand here," said Ducky, easing Tony from his resting place and wrapping his hand around Rufus’ harness. When he’d positioned his subject properly and made sure he was steady, he went back and flipped the sheet hiding the chart.

"Tell me what you see."

Tony squinted at the only clear letter on the rectangular white blur. "E," he finally conceded.

"And?" urged Ducky.

"That’s it, just … E."

"No others?"

Frowning, DiNozzo tried to force the smeared shadows below the ‘E’ into something recognizable but they remained formless blobs of gray.

In the silence, the ME re-covered the offending chart.

A warm hand took Tony’s wrist. "Come sit down."

The young agent laughed thinly. "Good enough for ‘blind’?"

"Legally, yes. At this point, I’m afraid so. When have you seen Dr. Lenz?"

"It’s only been a few days; she said in most cases this resolves itself."

"Anthony," Ducky knelt, ignoring the creaking of his knees, "this is an inflammation of your optic nerve. It may resolve. It also may … not. But what you need is some cortico-steroids to reduce the inflammation."

Tony reached in his pocket and produced a prescription bottle. "That’s these, right?"

Ducky took the bottle, turning it over in his palm to read the label. "Yes, this is prednisone." He placed the drugs back in Tony’s hand.

"I’m taking them."

"You should be resting, as well."

"It’s not like I’m straining myself here, doc."

Abby watched as Ducky lowered his head, gathering himself. "All right," he said, patting Tony’s leg, his cheerful voice belied to by the look of worry on his face. "Why don’t you stay down here with Abby and relax. I’m sure she has some soothing music you could listen to."

"Sure, I just got Dark Orchid’s Kali Yuga CD."

The lab tech’s grin was faked but, with luck, Ducky was the only one who noticed. He pointed toward the door mouthing "Gibbs."

~oOo~

"How long have you not been able to see?"

"Define ‘see’," countered Tony, fixing his eyes on the featureless skin-colored oval he knew was Gibbs’ face.

"Then read this." A rectangle of mosaic color was slammed down on the table in front of him.

"I’m not reading a cereal box, Gibbs."

"How’d you know it was a cereal box?"

"’Cause I’m not blind?"

"Damn it, DiNozzo. You could kill yourself. Rufus is not a guide dog."

"Most cases of optic neuritis resolve within a few days," Tony retorted, pushing the offending box away.

"How long?" repeated Gibbs.

"It hasn’t gotten worse in a couple of days."

"But it hasn’t gotten any better, either."

"Ah … no," admitted Tony.

"What can you see?"

DiNozzo dropped his head, his mumbled answer barely heard. "I can see the ‘E’."

"The ‘E’?"

"Yeah, Ducky dragged out an eye chart and I can see the ‘E’."

"That means you’re 20/200."

"Yeah, and it also means technically you were right, Gibbs. Is that what you wanted to hear? You’re right and I’m blind."

~oOo~

"Gibbs?" The basement resounded with a steadily rhythmic scrape and smelled slightly sweet, like young wood.

"Don’t you dare come down here," ordered Gibbs.

"Come on, boss. I’m bored." At Tony’s feet, Rufus hunkered across the top step protectively.

Which, to Gibbs’ mind, made him smarter than his owner.

"I can sand," wheedled DiNozzo.

"Do not move." Gibbs put down his microplane. "If you’re going to come down here I’m going to come get you."

Tony held up a hand in front of his face. "Actually it’s not too bad this morning. I think I can see fingers."

"Come on," muttered Gibbs when he’d reached him, latching one of Tony’s hands on the railing and the other on his shoulder. "Just go easy."

They almost made it to the bottom before Tony’s feet tangled and, with an almost acrobatic twist, Gibbs ended up chest-to-chest with the younger man, his hug the only thing holding DiNozzo upright.

This close, Tony could feel the heat of Gibbs’ body seeping through his chambray work shirt and, in embarrassment, he tried to pull away, but the strong arms held him close. Squinting in confusion at the face only inches from his own, Tony only nodded mutely when Gibbs asked him if he was all right.

"You sure?" As Tony tried to find his feet, Gibbs steadied him, Tony’s still-damp hair brushing his cheek.

"Yeah," Tony finally managed. "Sorry."

Gibbs loosened his hold only slightly, waiting to see if DiNozzo would remain upright. "No need to be sorry."

Steadier now, Tony backed out of the grip, fumbling for the stair rail, not quite sure what had just happened. Or what had seemed to happen. Although undoubtedly he was somehow ... hallucinating that Gibbs didn’t seem to want to let go. This was Gibbs after all. Ex-gunnery sergeant. Thrice-wed lover of redheaded females. Gibbs.

The gray-haired man seemed to be studying him, but then he tilted his head and smiled in that kind of Gibbs’ half-smile Tony was used to. "You asked for this, DiNozzo."

His mind still ... elsewhere Tony gulped convulsively at the statement, but Gibbs was already turned around, replacing Tony’s free hand on his shoulder. "And I’ve got plenty of sanding."

In the dim light of the basement, the ship was like a beached whale’s skeleton, lighter ribs against a dark, receding shore. Gibbs pressed Tony’s palm to one of the transverses. He nudged a chair with his foot, pressing the aluminum seat against the back of the younger man’s legs, never letting go of the hold he had on his arm. Finally getting the message, Tony folded onto the hard seat.

"This is one of the transverses. They give the boat its contour. This one’s amidships, where there is the greatest strain, so here they’re closer together. This notch," He brought Tony’s hand to the cut, "is so the longitudinals can pass through. Got it?"

"Got it," nodded DiNozzo.

"Sanding," continued Gibbs, wrapping Tony’s other hand around a sanding bar, "can be seen as a sculptural exercise. You are not merely smoothing the surface, you are revealing, creating."

"Boss ..."

"Yeah?"

"I can barely see fingers, remember? I don’t think you want me ... creating."

"How about copying?"

"Copying?" repeated DiNozzo.

"Here," Gibbs stretched Tony’s arm out until he fingered the neighboring rib. "That one should feel like this one."

He wrapped his own hand around the outstretched fingers. "Here, see, they taper just a bit. You can measure," he circled their twinned digits around the wood. "Feel that?"

Tony’s palm slid downward over silky smooth wood, the top of his hand warmed by Gibbs cupped palm. "And here?"

"Um," the hand was pulled out from under Gibbs own. "I think I got it, boss. Thanks."

"Okay, then I’ll be over there."

Oh, yeah, Tony mouthed silently. That would be good. Over there, away from here, right now would be a very good thing.

~oOo~

Tony limped to the front door slowly, mindful of the precariousness of his balance and the fact that his vision, while a bit better, was still far from actually being useful. Gibbs had taken Rufus to the groomer and ordered Tony to rest while he was gone. Resting was … pointless, at least as far as Tony could see. Although, admittedly, these days that wasn’t far. Gibbs was the one who’d been working non-stop on a case. The older man was tired, which made him fussy. And fussy made him bossy.

"Coming," he called out as he reached the foyer, belatedly realizing at the pace he was setting, whoever it was may have already left.

He fumbled for the doorknob and finally managed to swing it open.

He didn’t see the first punch coming. Or the second. Or the third.

~oOo~

Gibbs pulled into the drive and immediately noted the open front door and the dark shadow lunging ungainly within. Bolting from the car he snatched out his weapon, taking his front steps two at a time.

"NCIS. Freeze!"

The hulking form hunched over in his foyer jolted in surprise and then, unexpectedly obedient, held up his blood-streaked hands. Not chancing a glance down, Gibbs slid his left hand to the back of his belt and jerked up the cuffs, springing one.

"Turn around! Hands on the wall! Do it!"

The perp put his palms to the wall and Gibbs came up behind him, ripping the right arm from its hold and securing the cuff.

"Get out on the porch. Now!"

Where he’d peeled the hands away from the hallway wall, two red handprints marred the white paint.

Dragging the cuff chain between the wrought iron bars of the sturdy side rail, Gibbs fastened him snuggly.

"DiNozzo!" He gave a tug to make sure the stranger was secured. "Tony!"

"Fuck!" Gibbs pulled out the cell phone, dialing even while sinking to his knees, a shaking hand reaching for the neck pulse.

"I have a Federal Agent down! This is Jethro Gibbs, NCIS." His fingers slipped in the slick coat of blood making its way down Tony’s neck.

"Never mind my badge number! Get an ambulance out here!" He recited the long-familiar address by rote, his fingers slipping as he searched for the carotid.

"Don’t do this to me, Tony."

A harsh gurgle and more blood seeped from Tony’s mouth.

"Goddamn it."

Beneath splatters of red, Tony’s eyes flickered open. "Gi…Gibbs."

"Ssh," he soothed. "I’m right here."

"Wha’ happ’n?"

"I don’t know. You tell me, buddy." The body under his hands was starting to shudder and Gibbs shrugged out of his coat and laid it over Tony’s upper body to combat the shock.

"Jus’ opened the door and … wham…" Tony’s voice trailed off and his eyelids shut, covering his unfocused eyes.

Mercifully, over Rufus’ frantic barking, Gibbs heard the sirens in the distance.

~oOo~

"You stupid fuck!"

Gibbs was down the stairs and making headway on an assault charge of his own before two of DC’s finest stepped in.

"You assault the fucking handicapped?"

"Agent Gibbs?" queried one of the paramedics stooped over DiNozzo.

Panting, Gibbs backed out of the cops’ restraining hold. "He’s got MS. He’s legally blind and partially paralyzed."

"Oh, Christ," murmured one of the men in blue.

"So what the hell did you think you were doing?" Gibbs yelled.

He felt a certain satisfaction when the assailant blanched under his gaze.

"Agent Gibbs," the younger of the pair of EMTs shook Gibbs’ shoulder, "I think we need you back here."

"Yeah … right."

~oOo~

"Gibbs?"

Kate Todd had never seen Gibbs look quite like this – disheveled, pale, with a smear of blood streaking one cheek. She was even more shocked when he opened his arms to her, silently burying her face against the nape of his neck when she stepped up into the hug.

"Is Tony--?"

"Oh, God, Kate, no … I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to think—"

"What happened?"

As if regaining his senses, Gibbs pulled away from her. He ran a still shaky hand through his hair. "I came back to find the front door open and this … he had to weigh at least two twenty, Kate, and he just laid into him."

"Why?"

"I don’t know why." Gibbs gave a swift kick to the plastic waiting room charge. "Goddamn it! I was only gone an hour."

~oOo~

"Anthony DiNozzo’s family?"

"That would be me," acknowledged Gibbs, rising slowly from the chair. His knees ached. His neck ached. Hell, his whole body ached.

"You’re his brother?" presumed the physician.

"No, I’m his boss, but I have his medical power-of-attorney."

"He has no family?"

Gibbs restated his claim. "You’re looking at them."

The doctor frowned. "Very well. Anthony was worked over pretty well, but we found no broken bones other than his septum. I want to keep him here a couple of days, though, to control the pain and watch his drug interactions. This may well aggravate his MS."

"Can we see him?"

"He’s been sedated, but you’re welcome to look in. We’re just waiting for a room assignment."

DiNozzo was on a gurney, lined up in the busy ER hallway with the other waiting patients. They’d cleaned him up, noted Gibbs dully when he reached Tony’s side. Kate watched, equally numb, as Gibbs stroked a strong hand through light brown hair occasionally still stiff with blood and betadine.

Okay, so, too often DiNozzo was like the annoying little brother she’d never had and never wanted, but she’d always thought of him as a force, a non-too-subtle vital presence. You were always aware that Tony was there. But in the harsh hospital lighting he looked frighteningly ethereal, his bruised skin translucent where it wasn’t marred purple and black from the capillaries broken by the force of the assault. One bruise spread across the whole left side of his face, transversing a swollen, purpling cheekbone.

She hadn’t realized she’d reached out until her fingertips met the cool skin of his cheek.

~oOo~

"Gi’…" Tony moved slightly and groaned. His head was turned in Gibbs’ direction and Gibbs could make out the name puffed out nearly silently between cracked and swollen lips. His left hand squeezed Gibbs’ calloused one too lightly. Like his leg, his left arm was growing weaker, something they both knew and neither mentioned.

This slight movement reached Kate as she slept in an ungainly sprawl in the opposite chair. She silently called out as well, but it is not Gibbs’ name on her lips.

"Hey," Gibbs whispered, leaning over the railing, "you coming around, DiNozzo?"

Tony’s eyelids fluttered then he jerked back awkwardly, his hands coming up to ward off a non-existent blow.

"Hey, hey," Gibbs placed his hands open-palmed against the battering, making no move to restrain the flailing fists.

The commotion caused Todd to start, but she froze at the scene taking place before her.

"Easy," murmured the older agent. "It’s okay. It’s just me, Tony."

The fight went suddenly out of the body on the bed and Tony collapsed back against the pillow.

"Oh God," he murmured, bringing a hand to his swollen face. "Where?"

"We’re at the hospital. They wanted to keep you under observation."

Tony spread his hands out to the sides, scuttling them across the sheets until they hit the bars of the railings.

"You want some water?" asked Kate, pouring some of the pitcher of melted ice into a small Styrofoam cup.

"Todd?" whispered Tony, opening his mouth when the straw tapped against his lips. "What you doin’ here?"

"Somebody had to keep Gibbs in line."

Tony swallowed then pressed further back against the pillow. "You kill him, boss?"

"They wouldn’t let me."

"Who--?" Muttered Tony, slipping away again.

Gibbs pulled the sheet up and tucked it around the once more sleeping form. "That’s what I want to know."

~oOo~

"Gregory Nathan Hale. Any idea why he’d like to knock on my door then beat you senseless?"

The bruises on Tony’s cheekbones were just beginning to turn a sickly yellow but he still moved gingerly as Gibbs helped him into his shirt. Tony squinted up at him, "Greg Hale?"

"So you know this bozo."

"Baltimore," acknowledged Tony, wincing as he tried to bend and bring the sock he held in his hand and his recalcitrant left foot within reaching distance of each other.

Gibbs jerked the offending article of clothing from him and performed the maneuver himself. "From when you were a cop? Somebody you put in jail?"

"Even worse – " Tony sighed as Gibbs finished the job of shoeing his left foot and started in on the right, " -- Hale was my partner."

"Why would your partner--" began Gibbs, tightening the laces with painful military precision.

"I haven’t always been the mature, easygoing guy I am today."

"Really?"

Even though his vision was improved, it still took a touch on Tony’s arm to get him to realize he was being offered a hand up.

"I’m not kidding … I was something of a hard-ass. This loveable guy you and Todd know was not always me."

Tony flinched as a peppy "Mr. DiNozzo" wafted from the hall. "If that’s a perky volunteer with a wheelchair, boss, I’m not going to be held responsible for my actions."

Gibbs steadied the slightly weaving figure. "I thought you were always up for a pretty girl, Tony."

"Tony?"

"Uh, sorry, boss." Tony swayed more heavily. "Guess I’ll take that wheelchair now."

The steel frame was cold and the supersized seat made Tony feel small. Gibbs’ car turned out to be warm and dry in the slightly damp air and Tony curled silently against the passenger-side window, watching the traffic blur by.

"You gonna tell me when you started quoting poetry?"

Tony let his head thump softly against the glass. "You should know that most everything that comes out of my mouth is, if not a lie, at least an exaggeration."

"I don’t believe that," said Gibbs, turning a corner with unusual care so as not to jostle his passenger.

"See?"

Tony closed his eyes and shut him out.

~oOo~

"I want to drop the charges."

"Good morning to you too, DiNozzo." Gibbs pulled a chair away from the kitchen table. "Sit down and I’ll get you some coffee." He looked over the sleep-mussed man clad only in a wrinkled tee and boxers, Rufus unharnessed but still helpfully pressed against his side. "Then we’ll talk."

Tony sank stiffly into the chair, burying a yawn that pulled his face painfully against the palm of his hand. "Nothing to talk about, boss."

Gibbs placed the steaming mug on the table and wrapped Tony’s hand around it. "I’d say wanting to drop assault charges against the man who put you in the hospital is something I want to talk about."

"What if I deserved it?"

"How the hell could you have deserved that?"

Tony took a generous sip of the dark liquid. "’Slept with his wife."

Gibbs groaned. "Why’d he wait two years?"

"Don’t know," shrugged Tony. "Maybe it just now got to him."

"Do you learn anything from this stuff, DiNozzo?"

Tony seemed to ponder this thoughtfully for a few seconds. "That when I answer your door I should duck?"

~oOo~

"Take him to Room Two." Gibbs fingered the file on his desk containing the police report on one Gregory Nathan Hale and didn’t look up at the hulking cop he’d last seen spattered with Tony’s blood. "I’ll be there in a minute."

Although he let him chill at least twenty before he sauntered into the interrogation room.

The greeting he received was a terse "you can’t keep me here."

Gibbs turned the available chair backwards and straddled it, putting the file down and leaning across the table. He could feel Kate’s eyes watching from behind the one-way glass. "You’ve assaulted an agent of the Federal government, Officer Hale."

"I assaulted my bastard ex-partner who fucked my wife."

"Why now?"

"She wants a divorce."

"To be with … Tony?" Oddly, Gibbs found his normally steady stomach twisting.

"Fuck, no. Gretchen doesn’t want any more … burdens." The big man picked at one of his short nails. "I wanted custody," he finally conceded softly.

"Custody."

"Of Sam. I wanted my son." The hands clenched into fists that rattled the table when they were pounded against it. "Who it turns out is not my son at all. He’s Tony-friggin’-DiNozzo’s."

Gibbs brought his own hands together, steepling them. "Have you considered it could be that she’s just telling you that?"

"The DNA match was negative."

"Has DiNozzo been tested?"

"Nah. But it’s him."

Gibbs looked toward the mirror lining one wall, knowing Kate was observing them … both of them. "Has she contacted him?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

"You know he couldn’t fight back."

"Yeah, man, I know that now. I …" He looked up to meet Gibbs piercing eyes. "I’m not sorry, if that’s what you’re after. But I wouldn’t have been so … rough if I’d known."

"DiNozzo seems to bring that out in some people." Gibbs closed the file, suddenly weary. "This isn’t my decision, but he wants to drop the charges."

Getting up, he stopped long enough to look down on the seated man. "There will be a restraining order. And as a personal note," he added softly, bending down to whisper into Hale’s ear, "you get within spitting distance of Tony and I will kill you. Myself. Personally."

~oOo~

"Beer, DiNozzo?"

Tony shrugged and brought the illicit bottle to his lips once more.

"Won’t that—"

"Don’t say it," interrupted Tony. "I’m tried of doing all this … shit to improve my health."

"Your vision has improved."

"Doubt a lack of beer had anything to do with that."

Gibbs retrieved his own bottle from the refrigerator and settled across from his recalcitrant houseguest. "So, how come you won’t talk about it?"

"About?" queried Tony.

"The MS."

"I don’t think you’re the type to ask me that, boss."

"I’m not?" questioned Gibbs flatly.

Tony smiled a little. "Well, no. You’re not exactly loquacious there yourself, Gibbs."

"Loquacious?"

"Gregarious?"

"Gregarious?"

"Talkative."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Give me a break, I’m running out of synonyms here."

"Gregarious?" repeated Gibbs.

"You." Tony poked a finger in Gibbs’ chest, emphasizing each word. "Talk. Little. Kemosabe."

"Aren’t you a little young for The Lone Ranger, DiNozzo?"

"I spent most of my childhood in front of a Sony," dismissed Tony, fingering the bottle of beer.

"So, how come you don’t talk about it?"

"And talking about it would do … what? Don’t tell me you’re actually advocating a guy examining their feelings."

Gibbs crossed his arms against his chest. "Actually, I am."

"Do that a lot in the Marines?"

"You’re not a Marine, DiNozzo."

"Nope, but I’ve learned from the best."

"I’d talk about it," protested Gibbs.

"Suuure, you would," Tony drawled. "And who would you talk about your declining health to? Me? Todd?"

"Probably Ducky."

"You’re kidding me."

"No, I’m not." Gibbs shifted against the cushions. "I talk a lot to Ducky. He’s a very smart man. You could try him."

"Look, if I’m going to talk about it to anybody," conceded Tony, "it would be you, okay? But, I’m … not."

"Why not?"

"’Cause talking won’t solve anything."

"Make you feel better."

Abandoning his bottle, Tony got shakily to his feet, the effects of the beating still painfully obvious in his slow shuffle.

"Where are you going?"

"To look for pods. Someone’s taken Gibbs and replaced him with an alien life form."

"Hang on." Gibbs latched onto Tony’s forearm and settled him back down on the sofa. "No pods."

"I’m not so sure, boss."

"Can you be serious for a moment?"

"Ah," reclutching the bottle, Tony worried with the edge of the paper label. "It would probably be better if I wasn’t."

"Try," ordered Gibbs.

"Okay. Uh, serious. How’s this for serious? Your freeloader is a trust-fund baby, born with a gigantic silver spoon, not to mention a golden cup. A product of the finest boarding schools in the northeast. My parents always called me ‘Anthony’, by the way, when they called … long-distance. According to my father, it was always my fate to ‘wind up in the gutter,’ which, also according to my father, was pretty much what Ohio State was and will always be. Never mind what he thinks of the Baltimore PD. What he’d say about you, boss, will fortunately go unrecorded as I haven’t spoken to him in over three years." Tony tore a strip from the loosened label and wrapped it thoughtfully around a fingertip. "I can guarantee you it wouldn’t be complimentary."

"My father," said Gibbs, taking the bottle from DiNozzo’s long fingers and impounding the strip of paper, "was a Marine. Enlisted. A gunnery sergeant."

"A real military kind of guy, I bet."

"Oh yeah."

"You ever see him?"

"He’s dead. Been dead for quite a long time now."

"Sorry," Tony shrank back into the couch.

"Gotta let them go, Tony. Still blaming your parents into adulthood can be a very ugly thing."

Tony sighed. "You think I’ve got some kind of … father fetish, don’t you?"

"You have a strong need to please authority figures."

"You got that from Abby, didn’t you?"

"Maybe," admitted Gibbs. "Abby’s a pretty smart girl. I tend to hire smart people -- they don’t get on my nerves as much."

"So what you doing with me, boss?"

Which was, mused Gibbs, the question indeed.

~oOo~

The ME stepped from the lab into the autopsy room with a small, pleased smile lighting his face that did not go unnoticed by the room’s other occupant.

"Flirting with Abby again, Duck?"

"Whether or not Ms. Sciuto compels my aging libido to new heights is not a proper topic for discussion." Ducky glanced sideways at the impertinently breathing body lying on his autopsy table. "I am old enough to be her grandfather."

"Love knows no age."

"Or gender," added Ducky somewhat enigmatically. "You’ve got that ‘I want to talk’ look on your face, Jethro."

"According to DiNozzo I never want to talk."

"It may seem so to young Anthony. I, however, have the wisdom of age and experience."

Gibbs heard the light box power on with a click and a wheezing sizzle, heard the snap of x-ray films being lined up against the illumination.

"Do you know that practically everything they have ever said about English boys’ boarding schools is true?"

Gibbs frowned up at the ceiling and waited for Ducky’s often-circuitous mental path to connect this to something vaguely applicable to his lying there.

"What I’m saying is that even though I have never personally experienced coitus with a man, that I am neither unfamiliar nor uncomfortable with the concept."

"You telling me you … dabbled, Ducky?"

"As much as any testosterone-laden schoolboy in the sole company of other testosterone-laden schoolboys. My preference, however, was always for the female form." Ducky snapped one of the x-rays off the light box and held it above his head, squinting at it. "And you, Gibbs?"

"I don’t think this is the kind of discussion I had in mind when I came here, Duck. I wanted to talk about DiNozzo."

"We are talking about DiNozzo," rejoined Ducky, frowning at whatever he saw in the translucent film.

"No, if we were talking about DiNozzo we would be talking about his propensity for screwing around, not yours or mine."

"Ah," Ducky frowned even more deeply at the exposure, "perhaps I was mistaken then; they do say the mind is the first thing to go."

He replaced the film and moved to study its neighbor. "What of our Anthony, then – who has he bedded lately?"

"No one that I know of," admitted Gibbs, his brow suddenly furrowing worriedly. "I figured the MS—"

"If Anthony has experienced a sudden turn toward the … celibate, I do not believe you can place the blame solely on disease processes."

A long sigh rose from the direction of the table. "If you have something to say, Duck, at least say it in English."

"If you want to look for the cause of Anthony’s newfound abstinence, my dear boy, I think you should perhaps look no further than your own backyard."

Gibbs rolled over. "Oh thank you, that was much, much clearer." He logrolled back onto his back and muttered "not".

~oOo~

And, frankly, Gibbs didn’t think about it again for the next few weeks. It took a double homicide involving a married and male non-com and the non-com’s male lover to bring the conversation with the ME back to the forefront.

Even then it wasn’t so much the facts of the case, but the fact that DiNozzo was back working it, albeit stiffly and with a lot of silent grimacing over the still tender deep bruises.

"Hey, boss."

Gibbs lifted his head with a "hmm?" and gazed in the direction of Tony’s old desk only to see McGee bending over his keyboard, his lips moving as he typed.

"Boss?"

"Yeah?" answered Gibbs, swinging around to see Tony wiggling his fingers at him. He got up to answer the ‘come-here’ gesture, a concession he was sure Kate was taking in with watchful eyes.

Tony’s screen, though it allowed Tony to slowly read the gigantically zoomed print, was a nightmare for anyone else and, leaning over DiNozzo’s shoulder, Gibbs peered myopically at the one-and-a-half letters on the monitor.

"You got something?"

"It seems that Cole and his – other – significant other got charged with disorderly outside The Purple Onion last year."

"The ‘Purple Onion’?"

"Oooo," a passing Abby leaned against the front of desk. "Best gay bar in the city."

"You been?" queried Gibbs.

Abby grinned, undeterred as ever, her jet-black hair shining in the reflected light. "You bet. Got fabulous fruity punch drinks."

Tony grinned back at the "fruity-drinks" line. "I think we should take a look around."

"All right." Gibbs straightened, leaving a hand on Tony’s shoulder. "McGee."

His voice carried clear and strong and he wasn’t dissatisfied when McGee jumped in his seat.

"McGee?" hissed DiNozzo quietly. "You’ve got to be kidding. You can’t send McGee in there."

"He’s got a tatt –" began Gibbs.

"—that says Mother," finished Tony in a whisper.

"Okay …" he gestured McGee back down and scowled at Abby who was clearly enjoying herself more than she should. "Kate?"

"Kate?" echoed DiNozzo, still sounding skeptical.

"I’m running out of staff here, Tony."

DiNozzo leaned back, his gaze fixing on him, although Gibbs really didn’t know how well he could see at this point. Well enough to get around without bumping into things but not well enough to read anything smaller than the pop-art "r" currently filling his screen. "Send me."

"Field staff go into the field."

"I can handle myself." Tony paused meaningfully. "And, of everyone, I’ll have the best chance of fitting in."

Abby pushed herself off the desktop. "TMI. I think this is where I leave."

DiNozzo graced her with a laid-back, open-palmed wave. "Take it easy, Abs."

Gibbs was graced with a kind of "go-on" nod from his lab tech. When he just continued to scowl at her, she mouthed "let him" in overly distinct syllables and brought her hands up like she was about to sign, but Gibbs shook his head warningly at her. She shrugged, her twin ponytails bobbing glossily, and retreated, stopping to smile encouragements at an unsure-looking McGee on her way out.

Watching her, Gibbs sighed. "You want to go question possible witnesses."

"Yep," answered DiNozzo easily.

"You know, you never quite answer this question. Exactly how much can you see?"

"Well, you’re wearing blue, Gibbs. Good color on you, by the way. Contrasts nicely with your hair, which I can still see is gray."

If he could have made out the resulting glare, Gibbs knew Tony’s smile would have broadened.

"Kate, however," Tony squinted down the line of desks. "Is just kind of a red … blob."

A threatening-sounding "I heard that, Tony" wafted back across the aisle.

"I can see enough not to bump into any furniture as long as everything is well-lit. Faces are a bit of a problem, unless I get really, really close. And details are pretty much still shot to hell."

"Then you’re not going alone into the field."

"Who said anything about alone, boss?"

"I am not babysitting you at a gay bar."

The "babysitting" remark stung but Tony shifted in the chair, dredged up his best smile and said. "Who said anything about you, Gibbs? I was going to take Abby."

"No" was the only reply he received, and it was in Gibbs’ flattest tone.

This was the kind of thing that really made the whole vision problem more than just an annoyance he could pretend to be bravely overcoming -- because he needed to see Gibbs’ face. The Corp had long ago stripped most expression from Gibbs’ speech leaving only "bark," "bark louder," and, on those rare occasions Tony had been privy to it, a soft, gentle concern that sent pleasant shivers up your nervous system. Or at least up his currently malfunctioning one.

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Gibbs regretted it. Tony’s slight wince, before he managed to hide it behind an apparently carefree smile, was more than enough for even Gibbs to realize the damage.

"There’s no way you’re taking Abby."

Tony snorted, coming closer to insubordination than he’d ever dared, and suddenly finding he didn’t give a damn. "Taking Abby might be … fun? Is that the problem? God forbid any of us find this job enjoyable?"

"She’s not field personnel."

"Well I’ve ruled out McGee and Kate," Tony stubbornly crossed his arms against his chest. "And you’re not ‘babysitting.’ So I guess that means I have typing to do."

Gibbs’ looked over this new, not-quite-backing-down version of his agent. The office had taken on a still hush as everyone within earshot had gone into a kind of covert listening mode. It might look like Todd was deep in communion with her case file, and that McGee was in the same intense unity with his database, but Gibbs knew better.

Leaning back over his agent, Gibbs nearly brushed his lips against Tony’s ear. "What time does this joint start hopping?"

DiNozzo leaned back blindly, blinking rapidly at the blur that Gibbs hid in. "Around ten should do it."

"Fine. Get McGee to drive you home."

Conversation with Gibbs was often like that. A kind of Morse substituting for real dialogue in which "get McGee to drive you home" served as Gibbs’ shorthand for "I’ve given in, but you’re going to admit MS is a debilitating illness and you’re not going to make it until ten if you don’t get some rest; so go take a nap and I’ll pick you up later."

Tony shook his head as Gibbs walked away. After nearly three years he was finally picking up Gibbs-speak.

~oOo~

"You have got to be kidding me."

Tony grinned triumphantly as Gibbs actually groaned as he stepped through his front door. "Hey, undercover work, you gotta look the part."

"You, yes," agreed Gibbs. "The dog? No."

"Oh come on," Tony fingered the deliberately wicked looking nickel-plated spikes in the broad leather collar.

"Do I even want to know where you got that?"

"Wasn't PETCO."

"It better have been Abby, because I do not want to know if Kate or Ducky possesses such a thing. Or, worse, that you do."

"A pale blue leather spiked collar? Come on. Do I look like a pale-blue-leather-spiked-collar kind of guy?" Tony put a hand behind his back and dug into the pocket of jeans Gibbs was trying not to notice were lethally form fitting. He came up with a handful of black cowhide, his fingers examining it momentarily before he flipped it right side out for Gibbs' viewing. "Mine says 'SLAVE'."

The growl was low and disgruntled. "Christ. DiNozzo."

About that time the object of his ire staggered slightly, bumping into the hallway credenza and Gibbs' arm shot automatically out to stabilize him ... until he realized it was not dizziness, but laughter, making the younger man shaky.

"God," Tony leaned into Gibbs' steadying presence. "I wish I could have seen your face."

His arms holding the body still quaking with merriment, Gibbs stared over Tony's shoulder defeatedly. "Abby?"

"Oh yeah. And just wait ‘til I tell her."

"So help me, DiNozzo..." Gibbs unwrapped one of the hands Tony had fisted into his shirt to help him balance through the worst of the laughter. He rewrapped it around the harness Rufus still wore under the thick collar. It took a minute, but eventually the other man steadied.

Gibbs looked at him critically. "Where's your brace?"

"Orthotic appliances, that's a whole other area of kink, boss. Not sure we want to go there."

"Well you're not going much of anywhere if you fall flat on your face."

Tony sobered. "I can make it."

"Uh huh."

"Besides, it ruins the line of the jeans. Act the part, remember?"

"Sit down," ordered Gibbs, carefully pushing both his wayward agent and the costumed mutt toward the nearest chair. Still aware of the not completely healed bruises and the decidedly weak left leg, he helped lower DiNozzo against the cushions. "I've got to get dressed."

He was halfway to the bedroom when he heard Tony softly conversing with the canine. "Great, Gibbs is doing Carson Kressley," DiNozzo said almost too low for even Gibbs' attentive hearing, "and all I'm gonna see is a blur."

~oOo~

"You ever get the feeling you were being watched?"

"It's a gay bar, DiNozzo. If I wasn't being watched I'd feel slightly ... insulted."

Most eyes, however, were focused on DiNozzo, the dog and the jeans apparently combining into an irresistible siren song. He'd dissuaded the first few with a glare but knew he couldn't keep it up if he wanted DiNozzo to actually do his job.

Figuring possession was nine-tenths of the law, even here, he fastened a proprietary arm around DiNozzo's tight waist. Oblivious to everything but the small circle of blurred but still visible space six or so feet around him, Tony moved momentarily into the touch but then stiffened, realizing what the older man was doing.

"I don't need your protection, Gibbs. I'm a big boy."

"You certainly are," purred a voice to their right, causing Tony to snort.

"Ignore him," ordered Gibbs, jerking Tony forward.

He settled the younger man at a table strategically central to the path to the bar and went to get two beers. Not that he was going to drink his, but sarsaparilla as a prop took on a certain unwanted irony in a gay bar. Waiting on the bottles, he glanced back at the table, noting with a scowl that "Big Boy" had made a beeline for an unaccompanied Tony. Gibbs knocked his knuckles against the bar impatiently, looking, he knew, like a jealous boyfriend. Which would have made the gesture merely a flourish on his cover, if the actual emotion hadn’t come along with it.

The bartender, beers in hand, stopped before handing them over, his eyes following Gibbs’ intense stare to a relaxed Tony sprawled in the wooden seat, Rufus at his feet, and the man next to him leaning forward in obvious lust.

"If that were mine, I think I’d be getting back there before my goods disappeared."

Gibbs threw a five on the bar top. "He’s a big boy."

"He certainly is," observed the bartender wistfully.

"That some kind of running joke around here?" spat Gibbs, gathering the drinks up, the bottles clinking heavily.

~oOo~

"Move along," ordered Gibbs, his foot trapping the table’s free chair so he could swing it around backwards and perch menacingly.

Big Boy blew him a sarcastic kiss while dipping his hand to DiNozzo’s lap and squeezing gently. Tony’s reaction would have been priceless if Gibbs hadn’t been locked in a staring contest with the predator across the table. As it was, the startled look went completely unnoticed. Although the recoil Tony made was enough motion for Gibbs to rise threateningly.

"Easy, bos--" Tony stammered slightly, "Jethro."

Big Boy wrinkled his nose. "Jethro? You bring the rest of the Hillbillies?"

"Leave." Gibbs helpfully pointed the way to the bar. "Vamoose."

"All right, beautiful." He gave Tony a final, parting clutch. "You get tired of him; you know where to find me."

Gibbs glared as the retreating butt gave a pointed shimmy in his direction.

"And you," he finished, rounding on a smug looking Tony, "don’t you ever call me Jethro."

"Ducky calls you Jethro."

"Ducky calls you Anthony."

"Right." Reaching out Tony ghosted his fingers over the table in search of the beer. Gibbs pushed it toward him, watching the long fingers fasten on the chilled glass. "Now get out of here and let me work."

"Pretty dim in here," remarked Gibbs, watching Tony replace the bottle then measure the space to the table edge with the back of his hand so he could find it again.

"It’s a bar, Gibbs."

"You going to be okay?"

"Not if you don’t quit scaring off all our potential witnesses. Go … dance or something."

Gibbs pushed back from the table. "Let’s make that ‘or something’."

He found a booth in a darkened corner and reluctantly set up surveillance.

~oOo~

So Gibbs … surveiled the steady stream of admirers Tony attracted. Watched him charm just about everybody with a brilliant smile and, on the rare occasions when that wasn’t enough, there was always Rufus’ bondage collar to provoke conversation.

The man was good. That much Gibbs knew. Had known that from the first, and was the reason he hired him. Gibbs wasn’t one to let someone’s idiosyncrasies blind him to what they could do – look at the rest of the staff: Abby, Ducky, McGee. Kate was the only one of them that might pass for most definitions of normal. And Tony DiNozzo -- the moment he met him, Gibbs knew the man was born to go undercover. He had a disconcerting vulnerability that made people trust him, or at least put them temporarily off their guard. At the same time he could turn that trust off in a millisecond and deal. It caught up with him, later, Gibbs knew. But in the field, the man had been a decided asset.

It took practically all his will power to watch Tony cheerfully allow a light groping here and there; but then, to Gibbs’ relief, he demurred every time it started to get heavy, waving a hand in Gibbs’ direction, probably saying something about his pouting, insanely jealous, partner. All Gibbs knew is there were chiding looks toward the back booth whenever one of the hopefuls was dissuaded.

"You fight?"

Gibbs was surprised to find anyone sliding across the bench of his booth.

For the first time he took an actual sip of his beer, smiling around the rounded glass. "What makes you think that?"

Unlike the crowd clustered around DiNozzo, Gibbs’ first visitor of the night was easily pushing the back end of forty, gray tinting his dark brown hair. But the still well-muscled body was tight and compact.

"You keep watching him."

Gibbs gestured toward DiNozzo’s attentive audience. "Everybody keeps watching him."

"Myself? I find this May-December stuff rarely works."

"You’d have to know him."

"Jeff," the man extended a hand across the table. "Jeff Haskins."

"Most people just call me Gibbs."

"Okay," Jeff shook hands in a strong, firm grip. "Gibbs. What branch?"

"Hmm?" Gibbs dragged his gaze away from Tony’s table.

"Military, aren’t you? What branch?"

"Marines."

"Should have figured. Pretty boy like you …" The man leaned forward and Gibbs wished he would move so he could have his unobstructed view back. "I have a theory about Marines."

Gibbs met the declaration with a hard, dark look.

"Hey I’m entitled," explained Haskins. "I’m a sociology professor at George Washington."

"With a ‘theory’ about Marines."

The tone did not dissuade his conversational partner. "You do this often?"

"No," admitted Gibbs, stating what was apparently obvious – that he hadn’t … indulged in a long time. "At least not on US soil."

"How long’s it been?"

"I get the sense I’m being studied here."

"Okay, so you’re obviously a cut-to-the-chase kind of guy. Want to go out back?"

"Nope."

"Ah. So, this was his idea." Haskins waved his thumb back in Tony’s direction.

"You might say that."

"What is it with age and monogamy? We get some feeling of impending doom and get all risk-adverse."

"Maybe we just know when we can’t do any better."

"So it’s that kind of thing." The professor turned around to see Tony skillfully putting off another admirer who was trying the hands-on approach. "I wish you luck. At my age I wouldn’t want to be trying to hold that tiger by the tail." He slid toward the open side the booth. "Mind if I go …"

Abandoning the barely-touched bottle Gibbs made his own move to get up. "No, in fact, I’ll introduce you."

~oOo~

"Hey," Gibbs laid a hand on Tony’s shoulder, unsure he could make him out in the muted light, and was rewarded by one of those smiles he’d watched the younger man throw around all evening.

"Hey yourself." Tony patted his own hand on top of Gibbs’ and left it there.

"Had enough?" He could feel the slightest tremor in the hand that covered his and he began to wonder if, after this long, he’d even be able to get Tony on his feet.

"I could … go home."

"Not before I introduce you." Squeezing DiNozzo’s shoulder lightly, he gestured the professor to the empty chair. "This is Jeff Haskins. He wanted to …"

"Get him to go out back with me, actually."

Tony’s head whipped in Gibbs’ direction. "So, did you?"

"No." Gibbs felt an undeniable burst of annoyance. "He has ‘theories’ about Marines."

"Really? Kate and I have some theories ourselves."

"Okay, that’s enough." Gibbs frowned as Tony shifted uncomfortably in the hard chair. "You going to be able to get up?"

"And if I’m not?" observed Tony placidly.

"Let’s not go there." Gibbs pushed the table back away from the chairs, giving him some room to help heave DiNozzo upright.

Rufus roused and yawned, then professionally took his place by Tony’s side. Gibbs could see the professor taking in the vest that proclaimed Rufus’ service dog status. In a second he had clearly put two and two together and come up with something like four.

"MS," explained Gibbs quietly, noticing the slight flush the explanation brought to Tony’s cheeks.

"Please tell me everyone isn’t watching us," Tony hissed softly.

There were more than a few eyes turned in their direction, but what Tony didn’t know wasn’t going to hurt either of them. "Afraid you’ve used up your charm; they’re pretty much all otherwise engaged."

"Okay." One of Tony’s hands groped toward the table edge. "Then let’s do this."

He pushed up, weary legs complaining but, thankfully, not turning totally to spaghetti, and felt Gibbs’ hand under his right arm. And an unfamiliar grip under his left. Tony turned in the direction of the unexpected touch.

"Exactly what kind of theories have you got about Marines?"

Gibbs let out a sibilant breath.

~oOo~

"He’s got a point you know." Gibbs handed Tony the seatbelt buckle and closed the door, opening the back to let Rufus jump up. Tony’s observation continuing after Gibbs climbed into the driver’s seat. "Most Marines are obsessed with the male body."

"Did you learn anything?" Gibbs interrupted, taking the buckle back from Tony’s fumbling and connecting it with a solid snap.

Tony smirked. "Well that one guy gave me more information than I’d ever care to know on CBT. Think it was something to do with the dog collar. You know, I wonder about Abby sometimes."

"DiNozzo."

Thankfully, the tonal reprimand served to put the younger agent back in reporting mode. "Well, our dead duo was occasionally two-thirds of a threesome."

"Got a name of the third?"

"Probably not of the easily traceable sort. Some guy that likes to call himself ‘Suicide Blond’. Regulars said he still comes in."

"Suicide Blond," muttered Gibbs, repugnantly.

"Hey, I’m proud of you, boss. You didn’t punch out the professor. Seemed like a nice guy."

Tony wasn’t sure if the sound Gibbs made was a sniff of disdain or a disbelieving snort. "You think I don’t know how to handle myself undercover?"

"Most weapons dealers don’t ask if you want a blow job in the backroom. Unfortunately, at least, not the ones I’ve met. Figured it wasn’t something you were used to."

"You might be surprised," returned Gibbs.

He relished the resultant silence coming from the passenger seat as they covered the remaining blocks to the house.

~oOo~

"Hey." Gibbs had thought Tony was still trying to figure out what to make of his last comment, but when he pulled the passenger door open he found the man was actually on the edge of sleep. "We’re here." He reached over and unlatched the seat belt as Tony rubbed at his eyes.

"Come on," he continued, coaxing DiNozzo to turn. He noticed Tony had to lift his left leg with his hands to manage to twist and sit on the side of the seat.

With a slight groan, Tony anchored his hands on either side of the open door and tried to push himself to his feet. Rufus pressed forward as if he could help, but even Gibbs’ quick hand under his arm wasn’t enough to make up for his rapidly wearying strength.

"Fuck," he murmured quietly to himself as he sank back down.

"Here, give it another try." Gibbs bent down and caught him around the waist, bringing Tony’s arm over his shoulder.

In a moment they were successfully standing and eyeing the front steps warily.

"Come on," prodded Gibbs again and got them both moving, Rufus trailing behind them.

He assaulted the stairs with tactical precision, fixing Tony’s hand around the right-hand railing and practically lifting him up each riser while Tony tried to keep his balance. Manhandling him, Gibbs managed to get the door open, and he continued to support him to the bedroom that had once been Gibbs’ own.

"I’m sorry," breathed Tony as he collapsed on the bed. He flopped awkwardly on his side, his feet still tangled on the floor, and curled into himself.

"Nothing to be sorry about." Gibbs sat next to him and, leaning down, untied the shoes. He lifted the dead weight of Tony’s legs to the bed. "You probably just overdid it a little"

‘Yeah," Tony scrubbed a hand over his face. "Thanks." He rolled further into the pillow. "Think I’ll just sleep with my clothes on."

"Okay," agreed Gibbs, patting his back.

He got up to leave, stopping long enough to turn off the lamp. But Tony’s soft entreaty made him turn back toward the bed.

"Hey boss?"

"Yeah, Tony."

It was that oddly tender tone and Tony opened his eyes enough to get a blurry view of the man beside him. "I’m surprised you weren’t surprised."

"Go to sleep, Tony."

It was that same gentle timbre and it made Tony smile into the pillow. "Sure, Gibbs."

~oOo~

Gibbs was a little surprised to find DiNozzo up and dressed for work by the time he’d stumbled into the kitchen in search of coffee.

"Thank God for timers," mused Tony good-naturedly as he listened to Gibbs inhale his first cup. "I can’t imagine what you did without them."

Gibbs noted Tony’s own half-filled mug. "You should talk."

Now that the first burst of caffeine had chased away at least some of the fog in his brain, Gibbs could see that Tony had looked ... better. At least he didn’t look as ragged as he had the night before, but his eyes still looked tired, the skin under them slightly purpled. The cane Tony had used temporarily after the beating had made a reappearance, too. Although Tony slid it surreptitiously from his view.

"You okay this morning?"

The question was met by the usual dismissive wave. "Just fine." Tony cocked his head, doing some studying of his own. "You?"

"Fine."

"Oh," said Tony, looking unconvinced. "Good."

~oOo~

The cane had disappeared by the time DiNozzo limped to the car, leaning more heavily than usual on Rufus. Gibbs opened his mouth to suggest Tony take a few hours, come in later, but Tony shot him a kind of precognitive don’t-even-think-of-saying-it look and he shut it again.

Gibbs was vaguely aware that Tony had chattered the entire fifteen miles to the office but, later, he realized he hadn’t heard a word the other man had said. Although he was pretty sure he’d grunted in most of the right places.

After that he’d gone one way, to a meeting with the combined task force committee, and Tony had gone the other, limping with painful slowness.

Gibbs was pretty sure he’d heard very little of what was said in the meeting either.

It was something of a relief to go downstairs and find Tony again surrounded by an attentive crowd, only this time it was the entire rest of the staff haunting his desk. For once not scattering them, Gibbs took a seat at his own workstation, doing a little quiet, covert eavesdropping of his own.

"So it could be a love triangle," surmised Kate.

"Could be a square," put in McGee, making Gibbs think again that the young agent was spending far too much time with a certain lab technician. Thinking non-linearly had its place, but one Abby was quite enough. "The wife’s still alive isn’t she?"

"Ewww," Abby screwed up her face. "A threesome is pleasantly kinky. A foursome is like a travel-sized orgy."

Gibbs had to keep from smiling as you could hear McGee draw in a sharp breath.

"Could I see you?"

This voice was much closer but Gibbs didn’t look up. "You’re seeing me, Duck."

"Privately," he clarified.

Gibbs did look up at that. "Something about the case?"

"Liken it to doctor-patient confidentiality."

"You’re not my doctor."

The ME inclined his head in Tony’s direction.

"Oh," said Gibbs softly.

~oOo~

By the time Gibbs escaped from Ducky’s clutches, Tony was alone, squinting with difficulty at the screen in front of him. Gibbs watched him a moment before he leaned over. "Tony."

The object of his examination startled then smoothed the frown from his face. "I think I can find him."

The first fifteen minutes of the ME’s lecture had been about inadequate computer support and it was spiced with so much technical mumbo-jumbo that he knew it had to come from Abby or Kate or McGee or possibly all three in concert. Anyone but the practically computer-phobic Englishman. Although the vague threats about reporting violations of the ADA were probably Ducky’s own.

Even now the scolding was still ringing his ears. There was something about a lecturing Ducky that always made Gibbs feel like he’d been dressed down by a commanding officer. If DiNozzo had said he needed a new computer, he would have gotten him one in a heartbeat. Only DiNozzo hadn’t said anything.

And what was Tony talking about anyway? "Who?"

"The third member of our trio."

Gibbs sighed. "You want to go back to the bar."

That had been the second fifteen of Ducky’s address. That somehow he’d misunderstood Ducky’s admonition about letting Tony try to keep on working on and apparently the ME had only meant in the safest possible conditions. "Let’s give it a couple of days."

Tony squinted, this time, as if it were Gibbs he was trying see clearly. "Since when did you put the brakes on a case?"

"I’m not putting the brakes on the case."

Tony closed his eyes. "I knew it. I knew you were going to be uncomfortable."

Gibbs leaned in, lowering his voice. "I was telling the truth last night. I wasn’t uncomfortable."

DiNozzo pressed his lips together. "Then what’s this about?"

"Ducky came to see me."

"Oookay."

"You need to take it easy."

DiNozzo finally opened his eyes, but he wouldn’t look in Gibbs’ direction. "He ratted me out, didn’t he?"

"He just suggested that you might be overworking a little. He also said your doctor suggested you take some downtime and ---"

"He ratted me out," confirmed Tony.

"Okay, he ratted you out. By the way, I’ve put in a requisition for a new computer with voice recognition."

This last piece of information transformed Tony’s soft replies into a decided hiss. "I’m fine, Gibbs. I don’t need special treatment."

"We’ll get you what you need to work. Whatever you need to work. But you gotta keep me in the loop here. If nothing breaks on the case in a couple of days, you can go back to the bar." Gibbs paused. "Provided you do what your doctor says."

"I hate this," muttered Tony.

Gibbs found himself putting a hand over the one worrying the keyboard aimlessly.

"I know."

Tony sat perfectly still for a long moment, then he disentangled his hand.

Gibbs hunkered down beside the desk, his own voice even softer now. "I need you to talk to me about this."

"Because you’re my boss," acknowledged Tony. "I know I haven’t exactly been playing fair, here. I just..."

"If the only way I’m going to get you to tell me what you need is as your employer, I’ll take it. I can demand it, and will, but only if I have to. I’d rather you just tell me."

"There’s a ‘you’ somewhere in there, boss?"

Neither of them could muster the energy to make the weak attempt at banter work.

"Somewhere."

Tony nodded and sighed. "You want to do it here?"

"Only if this is where you feel most comfortable."

"I could go for your couch."

Tony felt the touch on his hand and held himself remarkably steady as Gibbs’ warm fingers clasped his own.

"It’s a date."

A weak but reassuring grin crossed Tony’s lips. "For God’s sake, don’t let Kate hear you say that. I’ll never hear the end of it."

The warmth encircling his hand briefly tightened, then his fingers were released with a brotherly pat.

"See you at five."

Tony flexed his now chilly fingers. "’kay."

~oOo~

"Abby … would you mind?"

The lab tech looked from Tony to Ducky and back again. "Um…"

"I’d like to talk to Ducky, alone," Tony clarified, tightening his grip on Rufus.

"Go on, Abby," soothed the ME. He hooked a hand on Tony’s elbow. "Come into my office."

Tony’s gait was uneven and he leaned unconsciously into the solid grip. Even while supporting him, Ducky observed with a physician’s eye.

"Thought we had an agreement." DiNozzo didn’t sound angry so much as … defeated.

"I did not break your confidentiality, Anthony. I merely had a few words with Jethro about the … disservice he is paying you."

Tony frowned as he settled in the chair, Rufus plopping warmly onto his feet. "What disservice?"

"There are things which can make life easier; equipment that you need to function. It is the Navy’s duty to provide them. I merely pointed this out."

"You didn’t tell him?"

"No." Ducky crossed his arms, leaning against the edge of his desk, still observing the man before him. "But you should. It is a small … adjustment, not the end of the world."

"Yeah, well, it’s a pretty big thing to me."

~oOo~

"Beer?"

Gibbs swung the bottle enticingly in front of Tony who reached out for it, his fingers missing the cold glass narrowly before he finally managed to fix on it.

"Yeah. Thanks," he said, taking a deep swallow.

"So …" began Gibbs when the silence stretched out uncomfortably.

"So," repeated Tony.

"So, why don’t I start?" Gibbs offered. "What would you like to know?"

"What would I like to know?"

"As you said, I’m not exactly … gregarious." Gibbs took another swallow of beer. "So, go for it."

DiNozzo pondered the proposition for a moment. "Okay, how are you going to get the boat out of the basement?"

Gibbs choked. "That’s your question?"

"It’s been bothering me. I mean you have this huge…" Tony’s hands spread wide, ‘…honkin’ huge thing with ribs and you’ve got a door you can barely get yourself through."

Gibbs shrugged. "I’ll take it out the 20-gauge steel sectional door."

"You don’t have a 20-gauge steel sectional door."

"I get the boat done and I’ll get one."

Tony laughed, closing his eyes and keeping them closed.

"My turn. You do that a lot. Does the light hurt your eyes?"

"Uh," Tony scrubbed a nervous hand through his hair. "It’s just a bit disconcerting because I really can’t focus on much of anything, so after a while I just …"

"Shut it out?"

"That’s one way to explain it."

"But that’s not what Ducky thinks you need to tell me."

"Ah … no."

Gibbs waited but Tony was clearly not in a forthcoming mood. "So you listened to me," he observed, finally breaking the growing silence himself. "You talked to Ducky."

"I always listen to you, Gibbs." Tony’s hand groped for the abandoned bottle and Gibbs pushed it into reach. Tony took a long drag of the amber liquid before pointing out, "I can even repeat the twelve Marine rules, remember?"

"There were twelve of them?"

"So you said."

Gibbs laugh was deep and warming.

"You are a bastard, you know that?" observed DiNozzo.

"Never denied it."

Tony took a deep breath and, again, Gibbs … waited.

"The doctor thinks it’s time to think about a wheelchair." Tony’s brief smile was patently faked. "Just for ‘long’ journeys, you know. Anything over, say, forty feet."

Gibbs took a moment to compose himself. It made a certain amount of sense: Tony could live with the dog, the brace, the weakened sight, but this particular suggestion would be what threw him. He knew Tony used his height. Occasionally even lording over him or Ducky. It was the primeval ethos of the playground. The game of who’s bigger, who’s stronger. If you couldn’t measure dicks in public, you could at least compare how far you made it vertically.

"You can still walk."

DiNozzo ducked his head down and wouldn’t look back up. "She thinks I’m headed for a big, ugly fall."

"Screw her," resolved Gibbs decisively, not liking the way DiNozzo had turned inward, his head still down, his shoulders slumped.

"What?"

"You heard me. Screw her. What does she know? Besides, if you fall I’ll be there to pick you up."

The reply came out mixed with a sound that could have been a laugh, or a hastily strangled sob. "You will?"

"Sure," replied Gibbs as if it were self-evident.

At least Tony shifted stiffly against the sofa back, uncurling a little. "Exactly why am I here, Gibbs?"

"Told you the first time." Gibbs leaned over and tapped Tony’s cheek. "I’m a sucker for pretty faces."

"Not sure how I make that category, boss."

"Stop calling me ‘boss,’ Tony. It makes what I’m about to do … disconcerting."

Tony blinked. "What are you about to do?"

"This …"

Gibbs framed the face before him in his hands and leaned in slowly, giving Tony time to compensate for the lack of clear visual cues. His thumbs brushed lightly over rough cheeks and the first contact his lips made was welcomed softly. The resistance he met as he pressed further forward was that of a strong, male body, a pleasure he’d not permitted himself in a long, long time. And this was sweeter, deeper than the brief encounters he usually allowed himself. This was Tony with all his odd mix of strength and vulnerability.

Tony made that sound again, the one Gibbs wasn’t sure was a laugh or a cry, before he dove forward, his weight wedging Gibbs against the arm of the couch.

The horizontal dance bound them in a shared rhythm. Tony had his eyes closed again, his hands tangled in Gibbs’ short hair. And, this close, Gibbs couldn’t focus either, so he let himself drift on sound and touch: the soft, short pants that Tony made; the feel of warm, muscular hands moving down to lift his shirt and scrape along his ribs. The strong digits left his skin to fumble at his belt buckle and eventually a short curse was moaned against his mouth.

"Here, let me," whispered Gibbs, arching against him while he untangled the loop of leather. When he was done he moved to undo the buttons of Tony’s shirt while the younger man braced on his arms to hold himself above him.

What was truly a laugh escaped as he brushed a palm down DiNozzo’s flank. "Ticklish?" he inquired, repeating the motion, discovering the secrets of the body held trembling above him.

"I just can’t believe this is happening." Tony groaned as Gibbs’ hand dropped lower, cupping his hipbone.

"Believe it," whispered Gibbs, his other hand guiding Tony downward so he could capture his mouth again. "Believe."

~oOo~

It had been … well, too long actually … since he’d woken to the warmth of another body in his bed.

Particularly one that snuggled as much as DiNozzo did.

Gibbs tried to untangle himself from the body that seemed to be all limbs. Tony was softly snoring face down, one arm and a leg wrapped securely around the older man as if he thought, in his sleep, Gibbs might try to get away. The other arm was curled under Tony’s chin and he was twisted so that the other leg pressed a knee firmly against Gibbs’ hip.

Failing at unwrapping himself, Gibbs fell back against his pillow with a sigh.

"Tony." He gently shook the nearest shoulder. "Yo, DiNozzo."

"Hmmm?" murmured his bed-partner right before he wriggled to get more comfortable, entangling Gibbs even more.

Sighing, Gibbs looked at the glowing digits on the alarm clock. He’d gone on two hours sleep many times but DiNozzo didn’t need the stress of barely adequate rest – even if it was for a good cause.

Hell, a great cause as far as Gibbs was concerned.

Leaning down, Gibbs planted a kiss on the bare back. "Let me up," he instructed.

Tony groaned but laboriously pushed himself upright. "It can’t be time to get up."

"Not for you, it isn’t," ordered Gibbs, pecking another kiss under the fringe of bangs falling over Tony’s forehead. "That sick day you never used? You’re using it."

"Hey, no," Tony protested. "I’m okay. I’m--"

"Staying home," finished Gibbs, sliding out of the sheets. "That’s an order."

Tony buried his face in Gibbs’ abandoned pillow. "We’re in bed. You’re not the boss of me."

"No, you’re in bed and, as it’s officially six a.m., yes, I am the boss of you. You’re staying."

Gibbs knew Tony was tired or he never would have acquiesced, even with a laugh.

~oOo~

"Gibbs? Where’s Tony?"

"Yeah," added Abby, both women crossing their arms and looking all too much like a divorce decree would shortly be requiring his signature.

"Why do you say that like I’ve done something?" Gibbs demanded, knowing from long practice it was better to take the offense in situations like these. He got up, scooped up a file folder and tried to beat a retreat only to have his way blocked by one seriously scowling lab technician.

"I mean it Gibbs. If you did do something …"

"He’s asleep."

Kate raised a doubtful eyebrow.

"That’s all," he reiterated irritably. "The last few days have been a little stressful. His doctor told him to take it easy, so he’s taking a sick day."

"You’re sure you didn’t say anything?" interrogated Kate.

Raising placating hands Gibbs backed behind his desk. "Take it easy, ladies. I promise DiNozzo is fine."

"Yeah, well," Abby was still scowling, "we’re keeping our eyes on you."

Gibbs gestured toward his phone. "You can call him if you want."

"No," declined Kate. "We …believe you."

"Good. Then if you’re finished being DiNozzo’s big sisters, could we all go back to work?"

~oOo~

"And where, may I ask, is Anthony?"

Gibbs groaned and lowered his head with his thud against the desk.

"It was merely a question," stated the amused ME. "When I walked by, I noticed his computer hadn’t been turned on."

Gibbs looked up cautiously. "I’ve already been grilled by the interrogation team of Todd and Sciuto. DiNozzo’s taking a sick day. But," he hastily amended, "he’s fine. He’s just a little tired after yesterday."

"Ah," said Ducky knowingly. "May I ask if you and he had a conversation?"

"He told me." Gibbs’ voice was flat.

"It is not … unexpected. His symptoms have proven both chronic and progressive. With luck, he may reach a plateau, but …"

"I told him to tell the doctor to go screw –"

"Jethro," admonished Ducky sternly. "You didn’t."

Gibbs shrugged. "I did. Christ, Duck, just the thought of it was destroying him."

"You may be able to temporarily soothe his psyche, but you cannot prevent his physical decline."

"Give me a shot," said Gibbs.

"Anthony is not you, Jethro. He has many redeeming qualities. Your adherence to discipline, however, is not among them."

"Give him a chance. You might be surprised."

The ME looked unconvinced. "Do I need to go check on him?"

"Ducky …" began Gibbs irritably, only to stop when he saw the genuine concern on the other man’s face. "Fine. I’ll go check on him. Will that satisfy you? And would you try to spread the word to the other two members of the DiNozzo Protection League that I’m taking good care of their coworker?"

Ducky stepped out of the Gibbs’ path, recognizing the mission-bent look of the agent. "I will do my best," he murmured as Gibbs swept by, then he chuckled at the half-wave of thanks Gibbs belatedly threw in his direction.

~oOo~

"Hey."

Tony rolled over and blinked sleepily up at the shadow blocking the windows’ noonday light.

"Hey," he returned. "Weren’t you just here?"

"It’s lunchtime."

"Mmm." Tony murmured contentedly.

"Thought I’d come make sure you were alive before your concerned coworkers lynch me."

One eye reopened. "Lynch you?"

"They’re convinced I’ve done something nefarious to you."

"If they only knew," mused Tony with a grin.

He threw back the sheet, revealing an enticing expanse of fair skin. Gibbs took his reaching hand and helped him pull up so he sat gloriously naked on the edge of the mattress. He reached up to scratch his spiked hair into place. "So what’s for lunch?"

Gibbs knelt down and leaned in to capture the tempting mouth. "I’m thinking … you."

~oOo~

Gibbs backed up, almost right back into the elevator. "I checked on him!"

"And he’s okay?" Kate pressed for verification.

"He’s fine. He’ll be back tomorrow. I promise."

"It’s not that we don’t trust you …" disclaimed Kate.

"It’s just that we know you," put in Abby.

Gibbs fished his cell phone from his belt. "Call him."

When neither of his tormentors reached out for it, he flipped it open and dialed the number, pointing it in Abby’s direction. "Go ahead, call him."

The lab tech took the cell gingerly, smiling when a familiar voice answered "’lo."

"Tony?"

Whatever DiNozzo was saying was too low for Gibbs’ hearing, but Abby was laughing, so that was a good sign.

"Yeah, well, it’s just that we weren’t quite sure, you know." Abby nodded into the phone. "Yeah, will do. I’ll tell him. Yeah, Kate, too." She looked up, narrowing her eyes at Gibbs. "Yeah, yeah. We’ll play nicely, I promise."

She handed the open line back to Gibbs. "Here, boss man. He wants to talk to you."

Gibbs took the phone cautiously, overcome by the sudden vision of Tony as he’d left him, rumpled and sated in the tangled sheets of his bed. "Yes, DiNozzo?"

They hadn’t discussed it, how they were going to handle having two suddenly incompatible versions of their relationship, and maybe they should have, before he was standing there, holding a decidedly unsecured cell phone within hearing distance of two inquisitive colleagues.

But Tony was appropriately all business. "Any breakthroughs on the case?"

Which meant, what he’d been doing – probably since Gibbs left him – was plotting to return to a certain bar.

"We’ll talk about it tomorrow," he found himself saying irritably, finding it, thankfully, all too easy to fall back into managerial mode. "Tomorrow, DiNozzo. Just … take it easy today, will you?"

He noticed that the protective duo had drifted back to McGee’s desk, satisfied that Tony was all right and that this was the Gibbs they all knew and … tolerated.

Which was just fine with him, he’d leave being loved to DiNozzo.

~oOo~

"Told you," said Gibbs, pointing a thumb at DiNozzo following behind him as he strode by Kate’s desk, deliberately leaving Tony to bask.

Still, he couldn’t help keep one ear turned toward the pair. The normal sibling rivalry between the two agents had mellowed over the past weeks – a victim of Tony’s weariness and Todd’s otherwise well-hidden mothering instincts.

But the day of rest had left DiNozzo feeling, he’d said, "almost normal."

To which Gibbs had cheekily replied, "How would you know?" and was immediately rewarded with a smile – a real one. Not Tony’s soft, almost shy, private smile, he’d seen that one quite a bit over the past two days; but the cocky smile he’d so often bestowed on a grumbling Kate or Abby.

"Heard you cared, Kate," Tony had the smirk down to perfection.

Gibbs felt his breath catch. He suddenly found himself praying Kate would know that now was not the time to do anything but adopt the same smug pose.

Kate wisely didn’t look up from her case file. "Can’t believe everything you hear, DiNozzo."

"Can’t hide the truth, Todd," shot back Tony, smirking triumphantly.

Kate rolled her eyes. "You live in that delusion?"

The act earned a pleased chuckle from DiNozzo. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

He limped off toward his own desk, not catching the small, tightlipped smile Gibbs graced on Todd and the nod of understanding she sent back.

~oOo~

"You said if you didn’t get a break in the case I could—"

"I know what I said," huffed Gibbs.

"Boss-" began Tony, hesitating uncharacteristically.

"Say it," Gibbs ordered.

‘Okay. Is this a MS-thing or a …" Tony wished he could trust that the vague, blurry hulking shapes he could see were truly empty desks and that an unseen observer didn’t lurk within hearing distance. That odd feeling of being watched still plagued him from time to time, although he put it down to the frustration of his ever-blurring vision.

"An … us thing," finished Gibbs, knowing what caused the prolonged squinting in the direction of McGee and Todd’s desks.

"I –" Tony reached down and tussled with the rope tug a temporarily off-duty Rufus was happily worrying. "I need to do this."

He looked back up at Gibbs, regaining confidence. "I can do this," he restated. "In fact you need me to do this ‘cause you’ve got bupkis."

"Bupkis?" repeated Gibbs.

"Yiddish for ‘nothing,’ though the spelling can vary. The literal meaning is ‘goat droppings.’"

Both men started as the medical examiner and his erudite explanation appeared seemingly from out of nowhere.

"One day you’re going to give me a heart attack, Ducky," groused Gibbs, rubbing the left side of his chest pointedly.

"Yes, well, then you’ll be lucky there’s a physician nearby."

~oOo~

"Uh uh, I agreed you could go and you agreed that we’re wiring you. So sit," directed Gibbs, not releasing the hold on Tony’s arm until he was settled on the rolling chair. "I’ll be in the back booth and McGee will be in the van."

"Okay. Fine. Just watch where you put the wire Abs, last time they had their hands all over me." Tony’s voice trailed off. "Are you sure you want McGee in the van, boss? I mean I’d hate to teach him things his mother never warned him about."

"He’s not as innocent as you’d think," retorted Abby, clinically popping the buttons of Tony’s shirt.

Gibbs leaned down to ear level and murmured, "He’s slept in the coffin."

"Really?" Tony winced as Abby’s cool fingers fitted the delicate wire so it ran just below the jut of his collarbone. "The coffin, Abs? This must be serious."

"Don’t know," the lab tech muttered. "He still won’t drink out of the thod-pa."

Gibbs frowned warily. "Thod-pa?"

"Skull cup," translated DiNozzo. "It’s a contemplation on impermanence thing."

"Yeah," agreed Abby, snapping the tape with her teeth. "He just doesn’t get the whole momento mori shtick."

Pale fingers affixed the electronics and patted the tape down firmly. "Wear a t-shirt," she advised. Then she smiled, rather predatorily, Gibbs thought. "Something tight."

"Come on, DiNozzo," Gibbs hauled up on his right arm and Tony, after a second to get his bearings, followed. "Let’s get out of here before you’re sleeping in the coffin."

"Don’t worry, Gibbs. He’s not my type."

Gibbs did a double take, but Abby had turned back to whatever graph she’d been staring at when they’d invaded her domain.

That left him only DiNozzo to question. "A contemplation on impermanence thing?"

The shoulder he was holding onto pulled in a shrug.

"There was one in ‘Eight Legs to Love You.’" In the resounding silence that followed this pronouncement Tony continued, "Scull-cup potion? Thirty-five breasts? Two dead bodies? One giant tarantula attack? One shower scene? Insect moaning? Multiple topless writhing, with fright wig? Oh, come on, you’ve had to see it, boss."

"Somehow I must have missed that one." He tugged DiNozzo not quite so gently into the elevator. "Thirty-five breasts?"

~oOo~

Tony heard the back door of the van bang shut and tried unsuccessfully to make out Gibbs’ approach in the amber glow of the streetlight. His fingers sought out the plain-banded Seiko Ducky had pressed in his hand weeks before and he deftly popped the crystal, oriented the tip of his index finger on the ‘six’, and read the time tactilely.

Ten o’clock on the dot. Gibbs was nothing if not punctual.

"You ready to play the jealous lover?" he murmured when Gibbs drew close enough.

Abby had daubed the older man in the new Hugo Boss from the stash of fragrances she’d ended up accumulating for testing purposes and Tony breathed in deeply, bringing in the scent of cardamon, lemon and wild mint. Then the heart notes of nutmeg and sage. At the bottom was a hint of sandalwood and vanilla-infused bourbon, and then the delicious warm and slightly spiced scent of coffee and fresh wood that was just … Gibbs.

"I am the jealous lover," replied Gibbs succinctly, pressing DiNozzo up against the side of the van, keeping his voice low even though the steel body of the vehicle separated them from a jittery McGee.

Tony smiled. "Yeah, hey, that’s true. So, do I get a kiss for the road?"

Gibbs brushed his lips briefly then moved quickly to the throat DiNozzo happily exposed, the crown of Tony’s head brushing against the cool metal before Gibbs put teeth and tongue to work and Tony groaned.

Satisfied with his effort, Gibbs pulled back.

"Did you just--" Tony rubbed a hand over the circle of reddened skin. "Did you just give me a hickey?"

Unable to fix adequately either on his own reflection in the van’s passenger mirror or the expression on Gibbs’ face, he mutely ran his fingertips up and down his throat.

"You did," he accused.

"You’re on the clock, DiNozzo." Gibbs rapped his palm against the van - the signal to McGee to go live on the wire. Then he snagged a hand around Tony’s waist and, as they had left both Rufus and his collar at home, he buttressed his hip against Tony’s, providing stability. "Let’s go see if you can do a little investigating."

"You gave me a hickey," muttered Tony again. "I can’t believe you did that."

"Rule thirteen of undercover work," Gibbs reminded, holding the door to the bar open with his right hand and keeping his left firmly locked above Tony’s hipbone.

He smiled minutely when Tony joined in the unison. "Always dress the part."

"But a hickey, boss?"

And then they were through the door and Tony could feel the eyes on him, could feel Gibbs stiffen convincingly against him.

A very jealous lover indeed.

~oOo~

This time Gibbs sat down at the small table across from Tony. He scanned the press of bodies for anyone matching the description of the "Suicide Blond" and met a couple of very interested glances thrown DiNozzo’s way with a petulant glare of his own.

"Anybody you like?" asked Tony, his hands worrying the edge of the table as if they were in search of something to do.

"Platinum blond in the corner. Looks like a leather fetishist. Could be him." Gibbs frowned in the direction of the dance floor. "Couple of blonds dancing."

"Big Boy!"

Gibbs held back the snarl that threatened when Tony’s admirer from the previous night landed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. He couldn’t hide the hardness in his eyes, though.

"Touchy, touchy," tsked ‘Big Boy’, his hand straying to ruffle DiNozzo’s hair.

Tony leaned minutely into the touch and Gibbs pressed his chair back suddenly, "I’m getting a beer."

Whether he was just playing his part, or whether his real emotions were getting the better of him, it was the right move. "Big Boy" occupied his vacated chair in an instant and, leaning against the bar, he could see that Tony had gotten him to call the leather-clad blond over.

He tried to lip read but it was far too dim to make out what was being said. Just not dim enough to hide the hands being laid on Tony’s thighs.

With a disgruntled sigh he retreated to his perch in the booth and set about watching DiNozzo’s back.

~oOo~

McGee sat in the darkness of the van, watching the track of the recording and listening to the disembodied conversation, which, even filled with profanity, was far less startling than what he thought he’d heard murmured between DiNozzo and Gibbs.

What he’d hastily wiped from the start of the recording.

He rubbed sweaty hands on his pants and fervently wished Abby were there. She’d say something to make it okay that it seemed like Tony DiNozzo didn’t find Agent Gibbs near as frightening as he did.

Personal sexual preference aside, he just couldn’t get over the idea that anyone could find the senior agent anything but heart-stopping … in a totally terrifying, decidedly non-tempting kind of way. And Gibbs had …

He’d not only kissed DiNozzo, he’d apparently …

McGee shook himself. The thing was not to go there. Not to even think it.

Gibbs made Abby’s coffin look like his grandmother’s chintz sofa.

~oOo~

"You’re back."

Gibbs’ gaze flicked briefly to the professor then returned to DiNozzo.

"This is getting to be a habit."

"It seems," Gibbs agreed sourly.

"Offer is still good."

Gibbs snorted, watching the leather boy lean in toward Tony. "Who’s the blond?"

"Calls himself ‘Suicide’."

"Catchy," returned Gibbs, trying again to make out what was being said across the barroom floor.

"So …" speculated Haskins, "you let him come and do this because –"

This time, at least, Haskins managed to get his full attention. "You still studying me?"

"Maybe. I didn’t realize until you helped him up that he was—"

"Crippled?" finished Gibbs sharply. "Half blind?"

"So," the academic returned to his previous question, "you let him do this to you because he’s …"

Gibbs gave in and took a deep swallow of his beer before he replied, not untruthfully. "Because it’s who he is. It’s what he does."

"Suicide won’t mind a threesome," Haskins ventured and found the suggestion, not unexpectedly, immediately shot down.

"I would."

"So, you’re a one-man man," the professor observed. "Very old-fashioned of you."

Gibbs worried the beer bottle. "What can I say? I’m a conservative kind of guy."

A hand he hadn’t been expecting tightened over Gibbs’ own. "And I’m just trying to broaden your horizons."

Gibbs gaze locked on the unwelcome touch, which was quickly withdrawn. "I’m not interested."

And he truly wasn’t. The trim and somewhat slight professor was not his type. Not in his early years when he’d always wanted to meet strength with equal or greater strength -- Haskins was far too bookish-looking to have ever fulfilled that need. And not now when his desires apparently ran to Italians with quick, cocky grins and a tendency to get under his skin – in more ways than one.

"Fair enough." The sociologist nodded toward the front of the bar. "You have my condolences that he doesn’t feel the same way."

Gibbs felt a prickle of fear go up his back and knew, even before he glimpsed the leather-clad blond holding the door open for a smiling Tony, that the younger man had again managed to break the first fucking rule of team surveillance: don’t voluntarily leave the sight of your backup.

He flipped the cell open, thumbing the direct connect. "McGee, where the hell is he going?"

"Some place called Messrs DeSade."

"Fuck! McGee, follow them. You so much as let him out of your sight and you’ll be doing cold cases in Norfolk until you retire, you hear me?"

What he was going to do to a certain other agent when he caught up with him would be something he’d work out later.

"You’re a cop," observed Haskins.

"Not exactly," said Gibbs as launched himself off of the bench. Seeing him stalk toward them, the crowd wisely parted.

"Where the hell do you think you’re going, Professor?" he snarled as he flung open the front door of the bar and a hand caught the swinging block of metal and glass before it could fall back with a satisfying clang.

"With you."

"I don’t think so," Gibbs enunciated precisely.

"I do. You want to get in to DeSade’s without causing a ruckus; you’ll need a membership card."

Gibbs stopped. "It’s a fucking private sex club? So help me, if I get him out of this in one piece, I’m going to kill him." He thumbed the direct connect again. "McGee, you still with him?"

"Y-y-yes sir. Going down Andersonville past Highland right now."

He eyed the waiting academic. "You know where this place is?"

"Oh yeah."

Gibbs tossed the keys to the agency sedan at Haskins. "Then drive."

***

McGee kept one hand on the steering wheel and used the other to press the receiver tighter against his ear. Even so, the broadcast crackled and popped. He could tell Tony had been ... surprised when both men climbed into the car with him. The blond in leather driving and the other – the one that kept calling DiNozzo "Big Boy" – shoving next to him in the back.

"You coming with?" ask