A/N: Back by popular demand. Thank you to everyone who reviewed! And thanks for reading, enjoy.

Gibbs wandered Tony's quiet, darkened apartment and finally ended up in the kitchen, seeking caffeine. He opened a cupboard and smiled at his brand of coffee sitting on the shelf. The little bag had magically appeared shortly after Gibbs' first experience with Tony's migraines. The smile faded as memories of that night came flooding back.

Flashback:

"I did tell him that rule, right, Duck?" Gibbs asked. "Never be out of reach. You wouldn't think that would be so difficult. He was a detective a couple months ago, for God's sake. You'd think he'd be able to figure it out."

Ducky gave Gibbs a long-suffering look as the agent paced autopsy. "Now, Jethro, you must calm down. It's a Friday night. Well, Saturday morning now that it's a bit past one. Perhaps the young man has gone out for the evening. Maybe he's at a club like those dreadful ones that our Abigail enjoys. You can't hear anything in those places. I'm sure he'll check his phone soon enough and call you right back."

Gibbs didn't speak; he just glared at a gleaming autopsy table. Ducky found himself almost glad the young petty officer lying on it was already dead.

"You think he's drunk?" Gibbs asked suddenly. "We're on call this weekend and I swear if I find out he's passed out at some bar…"

"Oh, give him the benefit of the doubt, Jethro," Ducky interrupted before Gibbs could come up with any ways to torture the poor lad. "Perhaps he's just a sound sleeper."

Gibbs' eyes lit up at that. "You're right, Duck."

"I am?" Ducky said, not liking the sudden glint in his friend's eyes.

"I'll just go give him a personal wake-up call."

"Oh dear," Ducky said as Gibbs swept out of autopsy. "I hope, for your sake, dear boy, that you are indeed a heavy sleeper."

"DiNozzo! Open up, dammit! I saw your car in the garage. I know you're in there."

Gibbs pounded on his agent's door, not particularly caring who else he woke up at nearly two in the morning.

"On call means available and in contact, DiNozzo. Open the door."

Gibbs ignored the flicker in his gut at the silence beyond the door and he huffed out a frustrated sigh while fishing his lock picks out of his pocket. "Damn you, DiNozzo," he muttered while glancing both ways down the hall to make sure he was alone. "I'm getting a key from you first thing Monday morning. If you still have a job, that is."

Gibbs made short work of the lock and opened the door, blinking in surprise at the yet unpacked boxes littering the living area. He flicked one of three switches beside the door and a light came on in the hallway, softly illuminating Tony's prone form on the floor.

"Gibbs!" came a strangled cry.

Gibbs quickly took in DiNozzo's fancy clothes and the puddle of vomit beside him and fumed. Maybe he had made a mistake in hiring the Baltimore detective.

"Goddammit, DiNozzo!" Gibbs roared, crossing the floor in two steps and grabbing the agent roughly by the collar. "NEVER be unreachable, first of all. And we're on call this weekend. I think I made that perfectly clear. I would think you would understand that means not drinking yourself into oblivion and passing out on the floor."

"Please… please… Gibbs," DiNozzo gasped.

Hand still fisted in the agent's collar, Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Knock it off, DiNozzo. I'm not going to hurt you. As much as I'd like to kick your ass for this, I'll probably just fire you, you damned drunk."

"Please… please," DiNozzo whispered again.

Gibbs jerked DiNozzo to his feet, making a sharp sound of disgust when the young man swayed on his feet and gasped, "Bathroom. Gonna. Puke."

Gibbs all but dragged him down the hall and into the small bathroom. He watched distastefully as the agent emptied his stomach again while clinging to the bowl. He thought about calling and getting a replacement team sent in but decided to teach his new agent a lesson. He didn't care how many cups of coffee it took, DiNozzo was going to learn something valuable tonight besides drinking in moderation.

"You done?" Gibbs asked without sympathy when the gagging finally stopped.

Gibbs grunted in disgust again when DiNozzo collapsed onto the floor.

"What was that?" Gibbs barked when he realized DiNozzo was saying something over and over again. He leaned down and was surprised to find that he didn't smell cigarette smoke or alcohol on him. Must be a vodka drinker. He strained to hear what DiNozzo was panting through clenched teeth.

"Lights… please… lights… off… please."

"You want the lights off?" Gibbs exploded, not caring when DiNozzo flinched away from him, trying desperately to get away from him in the small confines of the bathroom. "If you're gonna beg, you should be begging me not to fire your sorry ass."

"Please… please," DiNozzo whimpered.

"Knock that off," Gibbs growled. "It's pathetic. You're drunk, get over it. We've got a case."

"Not … drunk," DiNozzo whispered so quietly Gibbs barely heard him.

Gibbs barked a harsh laugh, eliciting a shudder from DiNozzo, who had his face buried in the bathmat. "You're not? Really? So not only are you a worthless drunk, but now you're gonna lie to my face? Or to the floor, I guess. Look me in the eyes and tell me you're not drunk. Now, DiNozzo."

Tony lifted his head and pried his eyes open, instantly sending tears down his pale cheeks once the light burned his retinas. "Boss," he said, his agony evident in his shaky voice. "Migraine."

Gibbs blinked, remembering walking into the darkened room and the way Tony flinched away from his yelling and had barely opened his eyes until now. "Aw, hell, DiNozzo," he whispered, immediately shutting off the bathroom light and closing the door against the light from the hall.

Tony couldn't help the soft moan of relief that escaped his lips. He jumped when he heard Gibbs' soft whisper beside him. "What can I do?"

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Tony moaned, unable to speak actual words until the searing pain from the bright lights eased from his eyeballs.

"Well, yeah," Gibbs whispered, his volume roughly a zillion times lower than during his tirade. "What else? I'm not gonna just leave you here like this."

Tony shuddered and Gibbs had a funny feeling it was more from his kind words than the pain. Gibbs watched DiNozzo try to push himself up, and he put a hand on his shoulder, keeping the weakened man down easily.

"Need…" Tony gasped.

"What? Where?" Gibbs asked, sotto voce.

"Case… top… drawer… right."

Gibbs fumbled in the dark, his hand finally closing around a black plastic case about the size of a paperback book. He popped it open and ran his hand over what was inside, quickly realizing it contained syringes. He suddenly wished he'd brought Ducky.

"I'm gonna need some light," Gibbs whispered.

Tony groaned in response, and Gibbs cracked the door, letting a sliver of light spill into the dark room.

"Let's get you to bed first," Gibbs said, sliding a hand under DiNozzo's arm.

"No, now," Tony begged, not caring how pathetic he sounded. Gibbs' earlier words had stung him badly, and if he weren't in such agony, he'd have thrown the older agent out ten minutes ago.

And with that quiet demand, Gibbs finally realized just how much pain the man was in. "Okay, Tony, okay. How do I do this?"

Tony groaned at the thought of trying to speak enough words to explain. "Alcohol wipe… in case."

Gibbs found the small packet and saw DiNozzo pull up his shirt, exposing his belly. A shaking finger pointed to a spot just to the left of his navel. Gibbs brushed the wipe across the skin, and DiNozzo said, "Prefilled syringe… Push a little out, like on TV."

Gibbs tried to remember the last TV show he'd seen, but he did as he was told, uncapping the syringe and pressing on the plunger until a small amount of liquid shot out of the tip of the needle. He hoped it wasn't too much because the kid obviously needed as much of the stuff as he could get. Gibbs had seen a lot of wounded men over the years, but he'd never seen anyone who wasn't bleeding or beaten in pain like this. And that it was his agent writhing on the floor beside him didn't help the slight tremble in Gibbs' hands. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this nervous.

"Here," Tony whispered, pointing to the spot Gibbs had wiped. "Harder than you think necessary. Gotta get through the skin and into the muscle."

Gibbs didn't miss that DiNozzo gagged on the end of his choked sentence. Nervousness aside, he had to do this. Gibbs didn't bother giving the kid a warning; he just jabbed the needle into DiNozzo's belly and pressed the plunger until all of the fluid had been injected. He pulled the needle out and set the syringe on the counter. He released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and put a gentle hand on DiNozzo's forehead.

A mistake, it turns out, if Tony's shriek was any indication.

Gibbs immediately withdrew his hand with a softly murmured "Shit, sorry." He moved his hand to DiNozzo's shoulder, scooting away a bit when his agent curled into a tight little ball and pressed his hands to his head. Gibbs reached over DiNozzo's shaking body and shut the door, throwing the small room into complete darkness. He stroked gentle circles on Tony's shoulder and wondered somewhat desperately how long the medication would take to ease his suffering.

The silence gave Gibbs time to think about what a bastard he'd been. He remembered telling DiNozzo that he wasn't going to hurt him. So much for that. Guess I'll have to break the rule on apologies for this one. He thought about saying it now, but he doubted the kid was in any shape to hear it.

Gibbs shifted uncomfortably on the hard floor and realized DiNozzo had stopped shaking. He whispered, "Bed now?"

" 'K," came the soft reply. "Go slow…"

Too late, Gibbs thought as he pulled the kid to his feet in one smooth movement. He felt the shudder that ran through Tony's body and pulled him to his chest before his knees buckled. He resumed rubbing circles into DiNozzo's shoulder and murmured softly, soothingly. He blinked in surprise when he felt tears soak into his shirt.

As he stood there, Gibbs tried to reconcile the cocky, brash detective he'd hired with the trembling man crying in his arms. He wondered if migraines were like concussions and maybe Tony wouldn't remember this part. For the kid's sake, he hoped so.

Finally, DiNozzo had collected himself enough to start moving toward the door. Gibbs pushed him gently against the sink, propping him there while he slipped out of the door and turned off the hall light. Tony murmured a soft "thanks" as they made their slow way down the dark hall. Gibbs picked his way through the absolute blackness of Tony's room and lowered him onto his bed. He felt a pang of sympathy when he realized the blinds and heavy curtains let not even a sliver of light into the room. He wondered how long DiNozzo had been dealing with the migraines. And why the hell didn't you tell me?

Gibbs watched DiNozzo curl up and struggle with the blanket so he helped him with it, covering the trembling young man and giving his shoulder a quick squeeze. I come here to ream him out for being unreachable and end up tucking him into bed. Gibbs smiled in the darkness. You're something else, DiNozzo.

Gibbs woke up later that morning to DiNozzo watching him from the hallway. If Gibbs didn't know better, he'd say the kid looked terrified. He asked, "Feeling better?"

DiNozzo nodded slowly. "I'm sorry, Gibbs, I should—"

Gibbs held up a hand as he sat up on the couch. "Listen to me, DiNozzo, because I don't apologize often. But in this case, it's due. I'm sorry, Tony. When you didn't answer, I thought you were out at a bar or something and then when I got here and saw you lying there—"

"In a puddle of puke," Tony said wryly.

Gibbs smiled. "I wouldn't say in it, exactly." The smile faded. "I am sorry, Tony. I must have really hurt you yelling like that and hauling you around."

Tony shrugged and gave a sheepish smile. "It's okay. You didn't know."

"If I were going to yell at you for anything, it'd be for that," Gibbs said, giving DiNozzo a stern look. "You should have told me."

"You're right," Tony said, looking at his hands. "I felt it coming and I knew we were on this weekend. I'm sorry. Did I get us in trouble?"

"Nah," Gibbs said, "I passed it to another team and they— Wait, what? You felt it coming? And you didn't say anything? Goddammit, DiNozzo!"

Tony flinched at his boss's rising volume. "I'm sorry. I should have told you so you could make other arrangements. I screwed up, but it won't happen again, Gibbs."

Gibbs gave him a hard look but kept his volume down when he said, "Hell, DiNozzo. I'm not mad about the weekend duty. It's medical, they'll get over it. I'm pissed because you didn't trust me enough to tell me about this."

Tony wasn't sure what to say.

"You tell me next time you feel one coming," Gibbs said sternly. His voice softened a tiny bit. "So you don't have to go through this alone again."

Tony swallowed hard and nodded, not trusting his voice.

Gibbs rose and headed for the door, but not before picking up a half-full mug from the table and shoving it into Tony's hands. "And get some better coffee. This stuff sucks."