Gibbs sat in the chilly darkness of his basement, staring at the space where a boat had been. A jar of bourbon was held loosely in his hand, the bottle sitting on the floor next to the stairs. He wasn't drinking, just staring into space. Unbidden, the image of Tony's burned out car and the charred body curled around the steering wheel rose up in his mind's eye. He closed his eyes and shook his head, but instead he saw two charred cell phones, a soot-covered service weapon, and a warped and burned ID and badge. He drew in a breath - it wasn't Tony - and took a sip. It burned down his throat, erasing the ghostly images wavering in his imagination.

He wasn't sure what emotions he was feeling. There was pure relief, that Tony was alive, that he hadn't had to bury a second agent, another comrade. He was coldly furious with Jen and the way she had used Tony in her personal vendetta - and it was personal, no matter what she said about it. And here in his basement, he could admit to two more emotions - the bone-deep grief and sorrow he still felt at the thought of Tony's death, and his deep seated fear that this would be it, the moment that he lost Tony.

It felt wrong, to be sitting alone in his basement tonight. Usually after a close-call, DiNozzo eventually made his way to his house and they sat in the stillness together, sometimes talking, other times drinking, but always reaffirming that they had made it through another day. He didn't know where DiNozzo was tonight, and he knew (because he checked before he left the building) that Tony hadn't requisitioned another cell phone. Rule number three, DiNozzo, he thought, never be out of reach. He snorted. Right Jethro. Because when you went haring off to Mexico, you followed rule number three. Gibbs shook his head again, and took another sip. If he hadn't left, maybe Tony wouldn't be in this mess. No point in blaming yourself, Jethro. What's done is done. Gotta fix this now, before Tony does a runner.

His phone rang and he picked up without looking at the caller i.d. "Gibbs," he answered.

"Boss?" It was Tony, "Boss. . . Boss, I screwed up. Didja know you aren't supposed to fall in love with your mark, Boss? Jen thinks I need reminding."

Jethro's chest twisted. Tony was drunk, far drunker than Gibbs could ever remember him being. "Yeah, DiNozzo, I know. Where are you?"

"Nowhere you'll find me Boss. Maybe I'll go to Mexico and not leave a number," Tony's voice faded, and it sounded like he was talking - no, arguing with someone. "Here. He wants to talk to you."

"DiNozzo! Who wants to talk to me? Where are you?" He tried to keep his voice level, but the end of his question turned into a growl anyway.

"Jethro, what the hell happened to DiNozzo today?"

"Tobias?" What the hell was DiNozzo doing with Tobias? "Where the hell are you two?"

"My house. He wanted to call you so I gave him my phone. He showed up here a half hour ago. Jethro, he's completely wasted. Can hardly stand up. I haven't a clue how he got here, either. He's got no phone, no badge, no weapon - and I did check thoroughly," in the background, Jethro hears Tony say something about 'not on a first date,' and if things weren't so serious, he'd laugh, "and I don't know what the hell is going on."

"I'll come get him."

Tobias' response gave him pause. "Like hell you will! I don't know what the hell you did to him at NCIS today, but the kid's a wreck. He's not going anywhere with you until you tell me what is going on. And after the way you came back from your little Mexican siesta, I'm not sure I should let you anywhere near him when he's this vulnerable."

He drew in a deep breath, let it out. He's looking out for Tony, like you were supposed to do and didn't. Don't get angry with him just because you feel guilty. "We watched his car get blown up in MTAC today. Found out he'd been on a long term under-cover assignment, and that the girl he'd been seeing was his mark. I watched Jen tear him down over a personal vendetta not twenty minutes after he returned," he swallowed, "I thought he was dead. For over an hour, I thought he was dead."

There was silence on the other end of the line, and then Jethro heard quick footsteps and a door shut. "Jeanne was the undercover assignment?"

How did Tobias know her name? "Yeah."

"Shit," was Tobias' succinct summation of that fact. "Christ, is he meant to have all the important women in his life disappear or disappoint him? No wonder he's a mess. And what the hell do you mean you though he was dead? Why the hell didn't anyone call me?"

"Why would we call you?"

Tobias hissed, "I'm his fucking next-of-kin, that's why!" He sounded unnerved. "What, you didn't check? How much of a bastard are you?"

Gibbs sat in stunned silence. Fornell was Tony's next-of-kin? When had that happened? When he'd . . . left, it had been him. He hadn't checked because he thought he knew who Tony's next of kin was. Never assume, Jethro. He thought back over the conversation. Fornell hadn't asked if the girl was an undercover assignment, he asked if she was the undercover assignment. Fornell already knew Tony was working undercover. Let it go, Jethro, he cautioned himself. The end goal is not losing Tony - and apparently I'm closer to losing him then I thought - I can't afford to piss his friends off. He swallowed his instinctive anger over someone stepping into what he considered his position at Tony's side, and instead of barking at Tobias, asked quietly, "Can I come over? I'd like to see him. Its been a hell of a day."

"You don't bother him," Fornell said warily, "You leave him alone, and we'll talk. Kid's probably passed out by now anyway." Jethro heard the door open, and footsteps again. "Oh hell, kid. Why didn't you say anything?" He was pretty sure he hadn't been meant to hear that. His chest twisted again.

"I'll see you in a few," he said, and hung up. He set his jar of bourbon down on the step next to him and rubbed his face with his hands. Finding out that Tony had gone to Fornell to find a place to lick his wounds, that left an ache in his chest. That Fornell had replaced him as Tony's next of kin, that burned. He rubbed his face again. Be honest with your subconscious, at least. You're jealous. Tony was yours - your responsibility, yours to care for, to take care of, and you liked that. You liked him being your loyal St. Bernard. You've always been possessive of your people, but Tony's always been a special case. You always wanted to know where he was, and who he was with. Spent extra time at work, sometimes, when you knew he had paperwork to fill out. Had him over for dinner, to work on the boat. Tried to keep him out of trouble in his personal life.

He swallowed hard.

Oh hell.

I'm in love with DiNozzo.