A/N: i'm back again! and this time, i come bearing a sequel :) -- here, by popular demand is the sequel to Anniversary... meaning that you really won't understand what's happening in this one, unless you go back and read that one first (and don't forget to review while you're at it :P).

for those of you that have come back for more, i'll apologize quickly for the wait (as always, school got in the way - sigh)... now, go get R&R'ing - i hope that this is what you were looking for!

Navy NCIS: Anniversary Blues

By: thebondgirl

'Why is it always so hot in this place?' Tony thought to himself as he struggled to push the sheets off his pajama-clad legs without jarring any of his still-healing injuries. After a few frustrating minutes of maneuvering around two casts and countless stitches, and only having managed to get it halfway down, he gave up with an exasperated huff, leaning back against his pillows and working on getting his breath back; apparently having both lungs surgically re-inflated really took the wind out of you for a while... no pun intended.

Staring up at the ceiling, he thought back to his first few days there and wished desperately that they would go back to giving him the drugs that helped him sleep through most of the pain. At this point, it wasn't a matter of the pain being unbearable - he'd dealt with much worse during other work-place mishaps, and for far longer. It was just that it seemed like everything was constantly conspiring against him getting a decent rest... ever. It was as though that whole mess surrounding his apparent post-traumatic-stress reaction and subsequent accident at the warehouse had triggered something in his mind, making it so that whenever he wasn't in a drug-induced unconsciousness, his normally scattered nightmares went into overdrive. They were happening every night now, sometimes a few times per night depending on if he were able to fall back asleep after the first nightmare jolted him awake and left him with unfortunately clear pictures in the darkness of his room.

Although he would've been quite content to avoid sleep altogether, he'd been threatened by his doctor and a flock of nurses that if he didn't rest up, then no matter what he said, he wouldn't be allowed to leave the hospital at the start of the second week, like he'd insisted on. And so he'd consented and forced himself to continue to close his eyes, no matter what waited for him when he did. After all, he didn't hate nightmares quite as much as he hated being trapped in this sterile environment, constantly bombarded with attention that he didn't want, and personally thought that he didn't need.

And so the end of the week had come aggravatingly slowly, but it had finally come. Now, all he had to do was go to sleep one last time, and when the night was over, one of his team members would come to bring him home, as promised.

'If only it wasn't so damn hot

Tony was finally on the verge of falling asleep when a faint clomping sound reached his ears, pulling him back awake again, though he kept his eyes stubbornly shut, grumbling irately to himself. The clomping continued, fading in and out with the occasional prolonged pause as it got closer and closer until it stopped directly outside his room. He had a feeling he knew who it was, even before the door slowly creaked open and the clomping entered in what sounded like an attempt at tiptoeing, accompanied by the light jingling of dangling chains. The owner of what he now recognized to be platform boots stopped directly beside his bed, and he smiled, eyes still closed.

"Come to keep me company Abs?" There was only silence at first and then, uncharacteristically calm, Abby answered.

"Sort of." Frowning, he opened his eyes just as she was sitting in the chair beside him, and he stared curiously at her somber expression.

"What do you mean 'sort of'? What's up?" Her gaze dropped to her lap for a moment, as though she were collecting herself for something, and when she raised it back up, Tony's eyes were narrowed slightly in suspicion, which turned out to be justified.

"I need to ask you something Tony... about what you said in that warehouse." Trying to keep the twinge of panic buried, he raised a brow and offered a slight smirk.

"While I'm bed-ridden in a hospital? Seems to me that'd be a bit of a stressful question, under the circumstances - might 'hinder my recovery', as Nurse Ratchet puts it," he said with forced lightness, referring to the staff's head nurse and resident bed-rest enforcer.

"You're getting out tomorrow - I guess I figured this was probably my best and only shot of pinning you down long enough for a Gibbs-style interrogation," she said, only half-joking with a small, somewhat sad smile on her face. He stared at her expression a long moment before he finally had to look away, trying not to sound as apprehensive as he felt.

"So, what'd you want to ask me?" A gentle hand rested on his forearm, but he wouldn't look back at her as she spoke.

"Before I get to that... do you remember when you came to see me in my lab after what happened to Kate?"

"As I recall, we ended up getting shot at... and you pointed out that I have a very nice butt." She gave a small reprimanding swat to his arm.

"I meant before that, Tony." He sighed quietly.

"I know." In the short silence that followed, he swore that he could hear her chewing worriedly on her bottom lip, and his mind gladly wandered away on just how much of a miracle it was that her lipstick always managed to remain in tact through it all...

"Hey, I know that look - don't you go tuning me out yet, buddy." He sighed again and despite the urge not to, he forced himself to listen. "I'm sure you remember that I really wasn't taking it too well."

"You were laughing like a nut when I walked in - I thought you'd cracked for a minute there," he whispered with a small grin, which she returned for a second before going serious again.

"I remember you hugging me, and after that, feeling better and more like me than I had since the call came through that Kate had been killed." She stopped long enough to grip his hand tightly between both of hers, and when she continued, he could hear the tears in her voice. "You've always been like a brother to me Tony, always picked me up when I didn't think anyone could and... and you asked me if I was all right, and just knew that I wasn't, and you made it better... and I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you like that. You needed me to be... you needed anyone to be, and I just didn't see it... I know I should've, but I didn't, and nothing can change that now..." He looked back to her face then and felt something inside himself break at the sight of tears streaming down her face. He reached his free hand over to thumb some of the tears away.

"Don't be so upset Abs, it's all right, I'm all right." A touch of anger colored her features.

"Don't you dare lie to me, Tony DiNozzo. I don't care how many casts you've got on - I will hurt you." She looked away for a second to get herself back under control, and when she looked back the tears had nearly stopped, though the sadness was still there in terrible abundance. "Now, back to that question I had... What I want to know is what in the hell would make you think I would've somehow been better off loosing you, that any of us would've been. And don't even try to deny you said it - I've talked to three reliable witnesses, and they all heard the same thing." He swallowed down the lump in his throat, and decided that he might as well be honest, for once, while he still had the nerve.

"I - all of us know she shouldn't have died -" The grip on his hand became almost painful as she cut off the explanation he was about to give.

"Don't you get it? We've always needed you just as much, all of us, more than we can ever say, even though we really should." Her eyes welled up fresh again, and he would've kicked himself - if one leg wasn't in a cast and the other trapped in his sheet - for making her cry like this. He was sure the sentiment must've shown on his face, but she seemed to push past it to continue her tirade. "And as much as we all loved Kate, and as much as we all miss her... there isn't a single day that goes by that we're not glad you're still here, as much to keep us going and make us smile as to simply be a part of our lives." She bit her lip again before she could manage to finish. "You have to promise me something Tony... promise me you'll never pull something like this again, not ever. Losing one was more than enough, and I just... I couldn't take it if I lost you too. Please Tony, promise me..."

Her voice had gotten frantic, her rambling choked with emotion and difficult to handle, and so despite the pain it brought, Tony pushed himself into a sitting position and leaned forward, pulling her into as tight a hug as he could manage without passing out, her face pressed to his shoulder and her hands fisted in his shirt. His eyes burned in warning, but he squeezed them shut, refusing to let the tears fall; just like she had before, Abby needed him to be the strong one now, to once again be the go-to guy, and he'd be damned if he let her down on his own account.

"It's okay Abby, shhh, it's okay - I promise... I'm not going anywhere."

"Are you ready to leave?" Tony looked up in surprise at Ziva, who had appeared suddenly and silently in his doorway, and was now regarding him with her normal calm countenance. Subconsciously straightening up in an effort to look at least a little better than he felt, Tony grinned tiredly at her, barely managing to hold it for as long as it took him to answer.

"You know it," he said, taking his time in maneuvering himself on his crutches to stand beside her, careful of putting too much strain on his wrist in the action, or jarring his aching ribs. Spotting his bag leaning against the doorframe, Ziva quickly stooped and picked it up, slinging it effortlessly over her shoulder in a motion that Tony was sure would've done him in if he'd attempted it himself. He sighed inwardly, trying hard to remind himself that he had to be patient with his recovery time, while at the same time dancing around the fact that he was the one that put himself there in the first place.

"I was allowed to park just outside the doors, so it will not be a long walk," she said over her shoulder, already headed for the elevators at a leisurely pace.

Tony was grateful both for the fact that she was subtly going slow enough for him to keep up, as well as for her not treating him as though he were made of glass, forcing him to take a wheelchair to the car. In fact, she was the only one on the team, including Ducky and Palmer, that wasn't acting any differently towards him since the warehouse. She didn't make him feel guilty for getting himself hurt, didn't psychoanalyze his every word, and didn't seem to be waiting for him to have a complete breakdown.

As he stepped into the elevator that she'd held open for him, and braced himself against the wall as it begun its decent, he observed her calm and composed exterior, really feeling for the first time entirely grateful for Ziva's tough persona, and near-unshakeable foundation. If he were honest, he could admit that it was that foundation amidst all the flying emotions and questions from the others that was keeping him together. As long as Ziva stayed as Ziva, his world felt just that little bit more stable; she was his one piece of normalcy in all this, the one thing still around that was his link to the undamaged, sarcastic, goofy, dependable Tony DiNozzo that he needed so desperately to hang on to in order to get through all this.

'The woman should get a medal... How exactly do you thank someone for something like that?' he thought to himself as they exited the elevator and left through the main doors. After he'd slid himself semi-gracefully into the passenger seat and closed his door, he watched her place his bag in the back seat, closing his eyes and leaning back into his seat just before she sat behind the wheel, continuing his train of thought as she wordlessly drove off in the direction of his apartment.

For a while he bounced back and forth between dismissing her apparent thoughtfulness as typical Ziva, therefore meaning nothing note-worthy, or finding a way to somehow slip a thank-you note into her things where she might find it. By the time they'd reached his building, he'd vetoed every 'thank-you note' scenario as just plain ridiculous, and was starting to lean towards dismissing it all as they both exited the vehicle and headed indoors, Ziva once again carrying his pack without comment or hesitation. Luckily the elevator was working for once, and in no time at all they'd reached his door, which she unlocked for him, holding it open for him so that he could crutch unsteadily inside without risk of it hitting or hindering him.

Every thought of dismissing it flew out the window however when she entered behind him and closed the door, his bag still on her shoulder, rather than making her usual brusque exit, and he caught sight of the expression almost hidden just under the surface on her face as she looked curiously around her. In that brief moment, she looked just as worn and worried as everyone else did, and only then did he realize just how much harder it was for her than anyone. Whereas the rest of the team was being open in how much his brush with death and his delirious confessions had disturbed them, Ziva was pouring all her energy into hiding it, for his sake, and his sake alone. He saw right then just how much it was costing her, and new beyond a doubt that it was a giant neon sign of how deep her respect for him ran, and of how strong their bond as partners and friends had become since they'd first met.

And if she was willing to go to such lengths to ensure his well-being and recovery, she deserved something in return - it was the least he could do.

"Hey Ziva?" he said quietly, interrupting her scan of her surroundings and drawing her gaze to himself.

"Yes Tony?"

"...Thanks." He poured as much of his gratitude as he could fit into it, trying for all he was worth to convey everything he was thanking her for through that one simple word, trying to say without words just how much her gesture and support meant to him, would always mean to him. They stood looking at each other for a long moment like that, neither moving an inch as the silent exchange took place, one doing the thanking while the other assured that it was appreciated, though it would never be necessary.

At last the connection was gently broken as Ziva offered up a small smile and nod, carefully lowering his bag to the ground.

"Shalom," she whispered, then walked out the door, closing it behind her with a soft click.

Alone once more, Tony turned and headed directly for his bedroom, discarding his crutches next to the bed before he slowly lay down on its soft surface with a moan of appreciation. Too tired to bother with trying to maneuver his casts enough to get under the covers, he managed to make himself comfortable on his back, and was fast asleep within seconds, blessed quiet dragging him under before he could think to dread what always came next.

The wind whipped around him, biting swiftly through his jacket and making him shiver, arms automatically moving to hug himself in an effort to conserve warmth. The sky was a miserable, cold gray, and there wasn't a sound to be heard on the rooftop where he stood, the bodies of the men they'd shot lying on the ground behind him. For a long moment he stood staring out at the buildings sprawled around his own, effortlessly thinking about nothing in particular, and content to simply stand there in the peace and quiet, however temporary it was going to be.

He remembered then that he was not alone up there, and looked to his right so see both of his teammates standing there, Gibbs standing frozen, eyes staring off to the side, while Kate stood facing him, staring unblinkingly at Tony with an unsettling look on her face. It took him a second to recognize the accusation where there was normally warmth, the realization making his throat tighten convulsively.

"Why won't you do it?" she asked, sounding both confused and hurt as she continued to stare at him. He swallowed in order to get his voice working.

"Why won't I do what?" She shook her head minutely.

"I don't understand why you won't... why I have to do it." He took a step closer to her, inches away now and able to see the pallor of her skin and the slight flush to her cheeks despite the cold.

"What is it Kate? What do you have to do?" Her voice dropped to a whisper, her answer sending chills down his spine.

"Die."

"No... Kate..."

"I don't want to die, Tony. Please, don't make me." The pleading in her tone and in her eyes made his heart break, and he shook his head fiercely.

"You won't die Kate, I won't let you," he said with as much confidence as he could muster.

Then suddenly he felt it: the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention, a silent warning pricking at him, and he knew without a doubt that they were in a sniper's crosshairs. The development spurred him to attempt to step forward, and push Kate out of the way, but his limbs refused to cooperate. His efforts to get to his partner became frantic as he felt the danger build - the sniper was preparing to fire, he could feel it, and he needed to get her out of the way, now.

All the while that his panic at his inability to act grew, Kate stood staring at him, her eyes growing sad.

"You won't do it, will you? You're going to let him kill me instead." His heart faltered, and his struggles increased as he opened his mouth to deny it, only to find he could no longer speak. "Why won't you stop him? How could you let this happen?" She sighed, sounding almost betrayed. "I guess I should've realized from the start - when it comes down to either you or me, you'll pick yourself every time... self preservation." Seemingly oblivious to his anguish at her words, she turned away from him then, facing the direction that Tony knew the fatal shot would be coming from. She stared blankly into the distance, as though she were actually looking down the scope of her murderer, and spoke one last time. "Take care of yourself Tony... it's what you're good at."

The sound of the gun firing roared in his ears, despite the distance, and he watched, horrified, as her head jerked back from the impact in a grotesque movement, not feeling her blood on his skin as he watched her fall to the ground, her eyes dull where once there was life.

The hold on his voice broke and he opened his mouth to speak, but as he stared down at her crumpled body, screaming filled his ears, surrounded him to the point of suffocation as he dropped to his knees by Kate's side. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the dark, neat wound in the middle of her forehead as the terrible, pain-filled sounds continued. They grew hoarse, even harder to listen to, and he clamped both hands over his ears, wishing that they would just stop, uncertain of how much more he could take.

He listened to Kate's parting words bounce around in his head in an endless, vicious repetition, and never even realized that the screams were coming from him.

Gibbs was careful to keep perfectly silent as he let himself in, knowing that Tony would be sleeping, and unsure as to where in the apartment he might have chosen to lay down. After all, according to what Ziva had relayed, his senior field agent was beyond exhaustion, leaving it quite possible that the man hadn't managed to drag himself any further than the couch in his living room before giving in and grabbing a nap.

A quick inspection of said room revealed it to be amazingly neat, and without an unconscious, snoring Italian, and so he continued on to where he remembered the bedroom was from his last visit, which had taken place after the plague fiasco. Even before he'd pushed the door open, he could hear the rustle of clothes against bedcovers the proved the room was occupied, and looking in, he saw Tony sleeping restlessly, obviously dreaming as his fingers twitched faintly, his legs shifting now and again.

Walking over to his side, Gibbs could see his agent's eyes shifting rapidly back and forth beneath his eyelids, and could hear his breath occasionally hitch in his throat. Frowning slightly, he placed the back of his hand against Tony's forehead, his frown deepening when he felt that the skin was slightly feverish to the touch. However, the man needed his rest, so he decided that he'd let him sleep a while longer, and check up on him every half hour or so, so that he could wake him up for meds and fluids if his temperature got any higher.

Satisfied with that decision, he left the room and walked back to the spacious kitchen, where he proceeded to make himself a pot of the strongest coffee DiNozzo owned, which still wasn't as strong as Gibbs' normal batch. It would have to do though, for he desperately needed the caffeine after the week he'd had at the office.

The results of their raid on the warehouse had not come without its consequences, which were admittedly few, and its paper work and write-ups, which had been far too many. It had not been easy explaining Tony's actions and accident to the director who, though obviously concerned for him, was mad as hell about the outcome of it all. In the end, she had agreed not to issue a suspension and psych-evaluation, deciding to let Tony by with medical leave and the standard psych-evaluation that would come before he could return to active duty.

And even after that, she'd still insisted upon an extra boatload of paperwork that she claimed was necessary, when every single person in that damned building knew this sort to be a not so subtle punishment to any wayward or overenthusiastic agents that might dare to show their true colors, be it on or off the clock. In Gibbs' case, it was apparently thought by the upper-ups that he should've been able to separate Tony and their suspect before they went over the rail, thereby preventing the loss of the guilty party, as well as the near-fatal injury of one of NCIS's best agents.

So, with all of the extra forms and reports to fill out, combined with the interrogation of their living suspects as well as everything involved with officially closing both the weapons dealing case, as well as that of the Navy officer's murder, the entire team had been working eighteen-hour days, basically every day for the past week... and with barely any breaks for coffee runs. The result: he was damn tired.

A few minutes later, he was pouring the first cup-worth into a mug he'd pulled out of the nearest cupboard, and he was in the midst of enjoying his first scalding gulp when he heard a loud gasp come from the master bedroom. Having left the door open for this very reason, Gibbs immediately replaced his mug on the counter and strode back to the room, seeing as he reached the doorway that instead of the gentle shifting of before, Tony was now nearly thrashing about, hindered by the awkward weight of both casts. His head was tossing back and forth, sweat dripping from his furrowed brow, and every breath ending on a soft, nearly inaudible whimper. It didn't take an expert to see that he was in the throws of a nightmare, and Gibbs had no intention of leaving him to it.

With this goal, he moved into the room. He was halfway to the bed when the most chilling, and heart wrenching screaming he'd ever heard in his life erupted suddenly and without warning from his agent. He had stopped thrashing and was now, more disturbingly, clawing at his ears, the screaming continuing into hoarse wails that were nearly physically painful to listen to. Unable to stand watching such suffering for a second longer, Gibbs lunged at him, locking both of his hands around Tony's wrists in iron grips that he used to pull them out and away from causing any further damage, at the same time using them to try and shake him back awake without hurting him.

"DiNozzo! Tony, wake up! C'mon Tony, c'mon..." His efforts went unrewarded for the longest minute of Gibbs' life, until, to his immense relief, Tony fell silent. The relief was short-lived however, when a second later Tony's eyes snapped open, darting wildly and unfocussed around the room, his breaths harsh and rattling in his healing chest. When his eyes finally settled on and recognized Gibbs, the older man's breath was stolen away by the sheer depth of unrestrained despair he saw there. He thought fleetingly that he had nowhere near the tools necessary to deal with this sort of thing, then dismissed the thought a second later, trusting his gut, which told him he was probably the only living person that could get through to Tony as was needed. It was sadly ironic, he thought, that the only other person that might've been able to help in this instance was the reason such help was needed in the first place.

Out of nowhere Tony began struggling wildly, and at first Gibbs attempted to keep him still, until Tony's desperate, gasped words reached his ears.

"I... can't breathe... I-I need air... need to get outta here... Jesus, I can't breathe..."

Recognizing the signs of the panic attack that was building, Gibbs hurriedly helped him out of bed, his fear nearly choking him when Tony couldn't even hold himself up, needing his boss to literally drag him from the room, holding the casted arm across his own shoulders while taking firm hold of his waist, all the while looking around frantically for a window that would open. He led them on a controlled stumble through the apartment until his gaze landed on the glass door to the balcony, after which he focused all of his energy on getting them there as fast as possible while Tony hyperventilated at his side.

The second they emerged into the cool air, Tony slumped into completely dead weight, barely conscious as Gibbs lowered them both to the balcony floor, pulling Tony's upper body into his lap. Only half worrying about causing him further pain, he pulled Tony in tight against his chest so that his head rested over his heart, resting his chin on top of his sweat-soaked hair and forcing his voice to come out stern, as though this were any regular order he were giving.

"Breathe Tony, now - slow, deep breaths, c'mon... breathe with me - in... out..." Tony shuddered weakly against him, his hand trying and failing to grip his sleeve as he breathed in and choked on the air. "Dammit, you can do this!" he all but yelled, giving the man in his arms a small shake, before pulling him in tight again, unable to help the waver this time. "N-now... breathe, same time as me. Ready? ... In slow... then out... in... good, that's good," he encouraged, gently this time as he heard and felt the man in his arms start to breathe a little easier.

He gradually slowed back down to normal as he continued to breathe in tandem with the other, both equally relieved when at last he'd recovered enough to be able to sit up mostly on his own, leaning only slightly against Gibbs' shoulder as they descended into an awkward silence. As both men stared straight ahead, each was wondering where to go from there, one embarrassed at having a witness to yet another moment of weakness, the other wracking his brains for the right words to say to someone he'd promised he would help.

Gibbs figured he might as well be the one to start, and he cleared his throat quietly, choosing his words carefully.

"Was it about her?" he asked, knowing that he needn't be specific in order to be understood. Tony appeared to be making a supreme effort to keep it together as he nodded, head bowed. "I hear it helps if you talk about it," he offered. Tony scoffed unenthusiastically.

"Is that so? And what do you want me to say?" he asked quietly.

"The truth works," Gibbs said bluntly. He felt Tony tense beside him, and wondered at the usefulness of his words until, in an unexpected twist, Tony actually spoke up.

"You want the truth Boss? Well, here it is, hope you can stomach it. Every night, I get a front row seat to a riveting, techni-color replay of Kate getting a hole drilled into her forehead," he said with unnerving frankness, a sick smile plastered on his face. "Oh it gets better though. I've got a terrific variety going - sometimes I'm the one pulling the trigger, or pushing her right into the line of fire. And on tonight's screening, there's my all time favorite: me just standing there, and listening to her beg me not to make her die on that god-damned rooftop, after which I still let it happen." His voice, wavering through the entire narrative, failed him at the end, and it was a moment before he could keep going. "It doesn't matter how they start, they all end the same way: Kate... beautiful, funny, sensitive Kate, who had a family and a real future was the one to die. And who got to live? Me. A chauvinistic joker, who might as well have been an orphan from the day I was born, and who will either end up getting shot somewhere else, or handed off from job to job until the day a stroke finally takes me out for good..."

In the silence that followed after he trailed off, Gibbs sat speechless, stunned at the level of damage that had been done by that one, horrifying moment one year ago. It seemed almost unreal that one man could shoulder so much blame without any outside encouragement, but then again, this was Tony DiNozzo: the reigning expert at self-reprimand, as of yet the undefeated champion in that arena.

Stubborn little bastard...

A fresh dose of determination to right this unforgivable wrong hit him full on, and he suddenly turned to face Tony, gripping his shoulders firmly and turning him as well, so that he would be forced to see the truth of Gibbs' words for himself. Gibbs' eyes narrowed slightly, and he jumped in head first, praying to whatever God did or didn't exist that he could reach him.

"Do you have some sort of a death wish that I don't know about DiNozzo? Do you really hate yourself that much?" Tony's eyes darted away, then back to his again.

"It shouldn't have been her." Gibbs sighed at the veiled 'yes' that came from that answer, but forced himself to keep on task, and say what needed to be said, for once.

"Well, it was her - Kate's dead and gone, and nothing can change that. It's something we'll have to learn to accept, something we'll have to live with for the rest of our lives. But there's something that you've got to accept first, and you better damn well do it: nothing you could've done would've changed the outcome, and nothing you did do was wrong..." He broke off for a minute, searching for the right words before continuing. "She saved my life on that rooftop, but... neither one of us were allowed to save hers - we just didn't have the chance to take the bullet for her, or push her out of the way... we weren't given the opportunity to make sure she went home that night. You can't be blamed for something like that, not when it blind-sides you like it did. It was out of our hands, beyond our control." Tony's eyes were filling with tears, his head shaking slowly back and forth, still trying to push away the simple truth, and so Gibbs moved one hand to the back of his neck, his squeeze there stilling the weak movements, his voice soft as he finished. "You never needed forgiveness from me, or anyone for what happened that day... but you and I both know if Kate were here, she would've forgiven you the second it happened... she never would've thought to blame you in the first place, and she would've been as glad as all of us are that you were still alive." He swallowed hard, his throat tight. "So now, I need you to forgive yourself Tony. For all of us... for her... let it go."

Nodding in a silent agreement to try, Tony finally let the tears fall and allowed Gibbs to wrap him in a warm, comforting embrace that neither broke for a long moment, both accepting the reassurance from the other that they really could get past this, that things could be made better, that it wasn't too late for either of them to fix it...

When at last they separated, Gibbs got to his feet and helped Tony to stand, draping one of Tony's arms around his shoulders as he helped him to hobble back inside and into the kitchen. Once he'd gotten him settled comfortably in a chair at the table, Gibbs fetched a second mug and filled it with coffee and the appropriate fixings before handing the mug to Tony, and sitting beside him to enjoy his own. They drank in an amiable silence for a while, before Gibbs spoke once more.

"And DiNozzo?"

"Yes Boss?" A smirk played itself across Gibbs' face.

"You tell anyone I hugged you... I'll break your other leg." Levity washed over him as Tony grinned in return, his eyes lighting up with good old fashioned DiNozzo mischief.

"You can count on me, Boss..." And both of them smiled wide at the unspoken ending.

...to tell everyone by sundown.

End