SPOILER WARNING: Contains spoilers for Season 4, particularly 'Angel Of Death'
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own NCIS. I know, its hard to believe sometimes :P All hail DPB.
A/N: Takes place after the season 4 finale. I've never written anything quite like this before, so I'm really interested to see what you think. My apologize if it doesn't make sense, its kinda late. This is about the friendship and almost fatherly relationship Gibbs has with Tony, but reading through this again, I think this could almost be read as a pre-slash story. That wasn't my intention, but it's completely up to you how you interpret it. Thanks for reading!
Fateful Night
He sighs as the water pours over him, enveloping him in a cocoon of steam and heat. Leaning back against the cool tiles of the shower wall he closes his eyes, losing himself in the almost scaldingly-hot water. He doesn't know how long he stands like that, but the rapidly decreasing temperature of the water indicates that it is quite a long time. Forcing himself back to reality, he shuts of the water. The crisp air tingles on his skin as he steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his hips without bothering to dry himself. He pauses in the hallway, gazing longingly at his bed. Weariness tugs at his eyelids but he doubts he'd be able to sleep. He'd probably just lie there restlessly, gazing at the ceiling for what's left of the night. No. He'd have better luck with late-night television, letting the informercials and black-and-white movies lull him into a sense of mindlessness. He has a feeling that's the closest thing he'll get to sleep. For tonight, at least.
He hears something, a soft 'clink' coming from the other end of the hallway. Usually he'd dismiss it, but tonight his senses are on hyper-alert and his special-agent training kicks in. His hand reaches for the Sig on his dresser and he advances down the hallway, hands poised on the gun. He arrives at the kitchen. It takes a second to register, but he lowers the gun.
"Boss?"
Gibbs turns from the refrigerator he's been rifling through. He almost grins to see his senior field agent, wearing only a fluffy white towel, pointing a gun at him.
The urge to smile completely fades as he takes in the dark shadows around Tony's eyes and the grim lines framing his mouth.
"You leave any hot water for the rest of the building?"
Tony frowns but says nothing. Gibbs swings the fridge door shut, ending his fruitless search for food. He pulls out a stool at the kitchen bench, noting the unnaturally pale palour of his agent's face.
"Sit down, Tony, before you fall down."
Tony glances down, only just realizing that his attire consists solely of a low-slung white towel. With a nonchalant shrug he pulls himself onto the stool.
"When was the last time you ate, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asks, opening the nearest cupboard door and peering inside. He finds nothing, and moves on to the next door before Tony replies.
"Not hungry."
Not much of an answer. Gibbs pulls out a slightly dusty packet of biscuits, scanning the use-by date. Good for another month. Not about to get Ducky's stamp of approval, but they'd do. Anything to get the blood sugar up, Gibbs thinks, as his eyes rest on the man hunched over the bench in front of him.
"And the last time you slept?"
Gibbs pulls out the tray of biscuits, pushing them in front of Tony. Tony's eyes are fixed on an invisible spot on the bench, and he doesn't react to the movement.
"I didn't know."
His voice is soft, so soft that Gibbs barely hears him.
"Six months, and it never occurred to me…."
He blinks, his eyes meeting Gibbs as his voice falters and fades. He is bare. His mask is gone, and all Gibbs can see in those deep green pools is pain. Raw, soul-wrenching emotion. And emptiness.
"She used me, Gibbs. She used me and I didn't –"
His eyes drop back to the bench.
"I thought it was real."
Gibbs knows better than to speak. He knows Tony has to get through this if he's going to have any chance at moving on. Or getting to sleep at the very least.
"I thought we had a future. I – I thought she loved me."
His voice drops, his fingers curling into a tight fist.
"Fuck."
Tears prick the edges of his eyes and he forces them back, refusing to yield to the fatigue pressing down on him.
Gibbs steps forward so that the kitchen bench is all that separates them.
"You didn't know." Gibbs wants to reach out and touch his hand, to make a physical connection. Tony needs to know he's not alone.
"A background check, Gibbs. If I'd bothered to run a simple, five-minute background check, none of this would've happened. I could've stopped it. I could've known…"
"What, that your girlfriend was the daughter of an arms dealer, or that she was in on the dealings too?"
Tony flinches, but Gibbs does not relent.
"Because, Tony, the director's been chasing La Grenoulle longer than any of us, and even she didn't know he had a daughter. Let alone an arms-dealing one."
Tony stands, gripping the doorway as he sways slightly.
"I could've stopped this."
Gibbs straightens up, stepping forward and placing a firm hand on the shoulder of the pale, wavering agent.
"Tony, you were her bait. Their bait. They would've killed you, and the director, and anyone else who got in their way."
Tony nods numbly. He knows. Now. Everything was a lie. Six months of happiness, of togetherness, of love. All a lie. All to give her father a leg-up over the director of NCIS. All for nothing.
He can't shake the image of Jeanne, lying there, a clean bullet-hole through her forehead.
"She was still warm," He murmurs, his hand rubbing his cheek where her blood and brain matter had splattered on him. The skin is pink where he scrubbed it.
"It had to happen, Tony. It was the only way it could end."
Tony shakes his head, anger flooding into his face as he looks at Gibbs. "No."
It didn't have to happen like that.
"She went alone. She could've – should've called you."
Tony's eyes flash as he remembers. Getting in a car with Jeanne. Finding himself face-to-face with the NCIS Most Wanted La Grenouille. Being driven somewhere, tied to a chair as Jeanne stood beside him, smirking as she ran her fingers across the pistol her father had handed her. La Grenouille taking his cell phone, calling Jenny Sheppard and telling her to come alone if she ever wanted to see Anthony DiNozzo alive again.
And then,
Jen storming in, alone, armed with only the back-up gun strapped to her ankle. Finding Tony tied up and a slim brunette standing beside him with a gun pointed directly at him, the Frog standing to the side. Jen talking, bargaining with the Frog for Tony's release, but then, as Jeanne's attention was diverted, whipping out her gun and shooting. Three shots, one straight through Jeanne's head and a double-tap to the heart of the Frog.
"She didn't have to die, Gibbs." There is almost hint of a plea in his voice, tears once more sparkling in his eyes.
He falls silent, the lines around his mouth deepening as he frowns, still thinking back. Jeanne falling to the ground, her blood splashing his face. The Frog falling seconds later. Jen striding over, untying him, a smug look of success enveloping her face. Gibbs arriving, McGee and Ziva in tow. Gibbs taking one look at Tony, standing pale, shell-shocked and still dripping with blood and ordering McGee to drive him home.
"She looked like Kate," He mutters softly, his fingers curling around the doorway.
"I'm sorry." Gibbs says, reaching out and steadying Tony as he starts to droop. He doesn't resist as Gibbs arms pull him back to his feet.
"Eat something," Gibbs says, steering him toward the biscuits. Tony's body stiffens.
"No. I can't."
"You look like you're about to pass out, DiNozzo."
"DiNozzo's don't pass out, boss." Tony says, although its clear that even he is unconvinced. "I just need to…"
"Sleep?"
Tony nods with a resigned sigh, allowing himself to be pushed toward the bedroom. He tugs on the knotted towel to keep it from slipping as the thought registers that he should get dressed. He tucks that away for future reference, when his mind can actually focus on anything.
He blinks and realizes that they've arrived in the bedroom. Gibbs rifles around in the dresser and tosses him a pair of long cotton pants with a drawstring around the waist. His hand catches them by reflex and Gibbs turns, walking into the bathroom as he dresses. A minute later Gibbs reappears, a tube of antiseptic cream and a white roll of bandage in his hands.
"For your wrists," He explains, gently sitting Tony on the bed and taking his arm. Tony looks down dumbly. His wrists are red, raw and bruised from the restraints. He doesn't remember pulling so hard. Gibbs applies the cream and lightly wraps each wrist.
"Ducky'll do it properly in the morning. For now, you need sleep."
Tony is too weak, too out of it to protest as Gibbs pulls back the downy bedspread and pushes Tony back until his head makes contact with the pillow.
"Sleep, Tony. You're safe now."
Gibbs draws the cover back over Tony and straightens, fervently hoping that the nightmares the younger agent seems so susceptible to leave him in peace for one night.
"Boss, I screwed up. I'm sorry." Tony mutters, lifting his heavy eyelids to meet the vibrant blue irises.
"DiNozzo, what did I tell you about apologies?" Gibbs says, his voice affectionately harsh. "You have nothing to apologize for. It wasn't your fault."
He can see that Tony wants to argue, but simply doesn't have the energy to do so. With a soft exhalation Gibbs reaches for the light switch, drowning the room in darkness.
"….thanks boss," Tony mumbles, his voice slurring.
Gibbs smiles sadly, pulling the door so that it is only slightly ajar. He pads softly down the hallway, unclipping his gun and cell phone, placing them on the bench. He kicks off his shoes, grateful for the soft cushioning of Tony's couch.
The media would be all over them in the morning. Jen had a lot to answer for, Gibbs thinks grimly. Going into a hostage situation without backup, without even telling anyone where she was going, and then shooting when she was outnumbered and they had a hostage. It had all worked out, so to speak, but it could've just as easily been Tony with the coin-sized hole through his skull. If it weren't for Jenny's obsession with the Frog, Tony would never have even been in such a situation.
Gibbs sighs, swinging his legs up onto the couch. He knows it will take a lot of work, a lot of reassurance and a lot of time to rebuild Tony into the confident, charming agent the team has become so accustomed to. Even then there is no guarantee he will be the same DiNozzo they know and love. Having the woman you love betray you and be murdered in the space of one evening tends to change a person. But Gibbs has faith. He knows Tony is strong and eventually the fractures and cracks will heal. It won't be easy.
But for now, Gibbs is happy just to get him through the night.
The End.
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