Hi! I'm in a really annoying period of writer's block right now, so to get me going I've written this little piece. It's early in the seasons. Just a little angsty family drama, I suppose.

Hope you'll enjoy. /Belker

"Hey, boss", a voice called to me softly. It took a while for my blurry mind to work out the meaning of those words, but I vaguely recognized the melodious baritone as belonging to my SFA. A hand landed tentatively on my shoulder. "Boss, you okay?"

"M 'wake", I rumbled, mostly because my aching head couldn't handle to string more words than those together. As I blinked my stinging eyes open, the worried face of my young agent swam into view. The steadying hand was snatched away. Hell, not those issues again. I sighed deeply, and winced when I noticed Tony stiffen even more at the smell of alcohol on my breath. I turned my head and mumbled "'M good", before sitting up with a groan.

Tony backed away, looking at me guardedly. "Morrow was worried." Not I or we, but Morrow. Shit.

"'M good", I slurred again, hoping that by repeating those words it would actually become true. The way my agent backed away even more told me just how miserably that had failed.

"Good", said Tony.

I could feel myself being scrutinized, measured. Not judged - never judged - but that only made it worse. Tony's wary energy vibrated in the stuffy air; bounced off the basement walls, echoed in the empty bottle of bourbon, stirred up the memories seated in the dust.

"What time is't?" I asked instead, coughing as I got up. I didn't miss the way Tony's eyes twitched at the unexpected sound. That really hurt.

I stilled right then and tried to collect myself. I scrubbed my hands over my face. "I'm not him, DiNozzo." Tony shifted, but didn't answer. By the way he didn't react, though, I knew he understood just fine what I was talking about.

I lifted heavy eyes to glance at the young man standing before me. A young man I - in a sense - had raised, taught never to stand down, never give up, always fight for what he believed in. In that moment all my efforts were wasted, vanished on account of one too many glasses of liquor. I could see it plainly in DiNozzo's eyes, even if his stance with crossed arms and set jaw belied all that.

My boy, I thought before I had the time or judgment not to. I'm so sorry. For what he's done to you. For what I've done.

"I'll wait in the car", Tony mumbled and climbed the stairs two steps at a time.

I had brushed my teeth for a good ten minutes and had changed my clothes, but Tony didn't talk to me for the rest of that day. When we caught a case later that afternoon, Kate was already giving both of us glances. Couldn't have that.

I cornered him in the elevator late that night, when all his paperwork was filled and all his energy was depleted. I didn't ask, I didn't accuse, I just looked at him in a silent plea. He leaned heavily on the wall and heaved such a world-weary sigh a man of his age should never be able to.

"I don't want to be reminded of him by you", he finally said and I had to strain my ears to hear him. "It's wrong." He shifted. "I'm not - I'm not supposed to be afraid of you."

The hug I gave him was as much to give him reassurance that he never, ever had to be afraid of me, as to hide my own tears.

Later that night I tossed a new bottle of bourbon in the trash.