Tony stared at the long garment bag an hour later, feeling physically ill. It wasn't surprising, though, since he had come home and gone straight to the bathroom to throw up before retreating to his bedroom to pack. He had thrown several random things into his bag without really thinking about them, and he figured he'd be lucky if he ended up with a matching pair of socks. He had mostly been glancing longingly at his bed. He wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep for days.

But he couldn't. Gibbs would be here soon.

You're such an idiot. Why the hell would you agree to this? If anyone was to come with you on this hellish mission, it should be Abby… or even McGee. Abby would understand, and you can fool McGee with your act. Gibbs? Yeah, not so much. You're screwed.

He looked at his bed again. You could lie to him. Tell him Marianne called back and said he's already dead. She had said she would call… "if anything changes," she'd put it. You know that just means when he dies. Because she's not expecting me to come. She didn't even know I existed until this afternoon. Goddamn, I'm going to have to meet her, make small talk, tell her things about my life she should already know. But he won't have told her a damned thing about me. You know that. Nothing about your life, your work. Even when practically asked point-blank, he hadn't said he was proud of you.

Shut up, he commanded his brain. Focus on the task at hand. Get through one thing at a time.

He eyed the suit bag as if it were a body bag—containing the most rotten, stinking corpse he'd ever come across. And he'd seen some bad ones. Like that one in Philly that had been in—

"Stop it."

Right, the suit. Is it wrong to bring it in case you end up attending a funeral? What will Gibbs say about it? Leave it. He's already going out of his way for you—massively out of his way, several states and several steps beyond the role of "boss" out of his way—so don't chance it by assuming he'll stay for a funeral, if there even is one.

His phone shrieked from his pocket and he jumped about a mile. Gibbs, shit. No wait, maybe he changed his mind. Why else would he be calling?

"Where are you?" came Gibbs' voice as Tony realized he'd opened the phone but not answered it. "I've been knocking for five minutes."

"Uh, be right there," he said to dead air. Shit.

He turned around and squeaked in alarm at Gibbs standing in the doorway. Breaking and entering? That's how we start off this weekend?

"Oh, hey, come on in," he said, fighting an irrational giggle.

Gibbs just rolled his eyes. "You need better locks."

Tony forced down the giggles again. "Said the man who never locks his doors." He grabbed his bag from the bed, feeling oddly guilty about the pile of dirty clothes in the corner. "Let's go."

Gibbs stayed planted in the doorway. He tossed a nod over Tony's shoulder at the garment bag. "Forgetting something?"

Tony blanched. "I don't think I should—"

"Be prepared," Gibbs said simply. "Bring it."

Tony nodded mutely and went to retrieve the bag. "No way were you a Boy Scout," he said, needing to fill the silence.

He turned to find Gibbs raising a silver eyebrow at him. "Why not? You saying they weren't around back then?"

Tony paled.

Gibbs winced, realizing he would have to be more careful with this new, skittish version of his agent. "Relax, Tony. I'm kidding."

"Oh," Tony said, badly faking a smile as he headed to the door.

Gibbs watched him lock up, hearing Tony's slightly uneven breathing, and he felt his anger flare again. Did the man even know how much power he still held over his son? Would he care if he did? How would he feel knowing he could still reduce eternal-optimist Tony, who could find a joke no matter what the situation, to a quivering mass of poorly imitated humor?

More importantly, what had the man done to Tony to make him react like this? Was it just the neglect? As if that isn't bad enough...

They reached the car without another word, and Gibbs watched Tony's eyes widen slightly at the bright yellow classic. Gibbs flipped the keys at him, wincing again when he caught them barely an inch from his face. "Want to drive? You know where we're going, not me."

He caught them easily when DiNozzo tossed them back with a firm shake of his head. "That's really nice of you, Boss, but not really."

Gibbs just eyed him as he unlocked the car.

Tony saw the look and huffed out a soft breath. "I almost killed myself five times on the way here," he admitted, not looking at Gibbs as he dropped his bag into the backseat. "I'm not taking you down with me."

Gibbs nodded his understanding as he settled behind the wheel. "And there's no way you'd endanger a beauty like this."

Tony found a genuine, if small, smile for him. "You know me so well."

Gibbs started the car.

Not even close, DiNozzo.

The drive wasn't nearly as awkward as Tony imagined it would be. He realized it was because they had spent countless miles in quiet cars together, on their way to crime scenes, interviews and the like. Gibbs usually ignored him, though, so even the infrequent glances his boss threw at him had him slightly unsettled. He knew it was the concern in them that was bothering him. God, you're so screwed up.

Somewhere in the middle of New Jersey, a thought occurred to Tony that made him groan a little before he could stop himself.

"You all right?" Gibbs asked immediately.

"I…"

Gibbs' eyes left the road to study his face for a moment before flipping quickly back to the Friday night traffic. "Tony?"

"I need to call Marianne," Tony said resignedly. "I can't just show up."

Gibbs made a rude noise. "Yeah, you can. You're his son."

Tony flinched.

But he just said, "I should still call."

Gibbs felt a flare of pride at the man's resolve. "That's good of you, Tony. I'll find a place to stop."

Tony already had his phone in his hand. "You don't have to. It won't take long."

Gibbs eyed him. "We could stop for dinner. You hungry?"

Even through his grief and confliction, Tony knew saying no would be a bad idea, so he nodded. "Sure, you pick the place. I'll pay."

"Suggestions?" Gibbs asked, feeling slightly relieved that DiNozzo hadn't turned down food.

Tony snorted. "How about we wait twenty minutes and pick somewhere not in Jersey. That whole 'Garbage Capital of the World' moniker should be extended to their cuisine."

"Spoken like a true New Yorker," Gibbs said, smiling and feeling a touch more relaxed. He wasn't surprised, though; Tony was nothing if not capable of pulling humor out of even the worst situations.

Tony half-smiled again. "There's a good little place just across the state line if you don't mind waiting. Or pizza."

I'd eat fried monkey tails for you tonight, DiNozzo, if it keeps that smile on your face.

"Works for me."

Gibbs watched Tony pick at his dinner and tried not to sigh. He had been relatively fine until he had excused himself to go call Marianne, his newest—and likely last—stepmother. Gibbs couldn't really wrap his mind around the term. He couldn't imagine how Tony dealt with the parade of women, knowing from early on that they were probably only temporary, especially after losing his own mother at such a young age. He wondered how the women had treated Tony, if any of them had even tried to be what the boy had lost.

So when Tony returned to the table white-faced and appetite-less, Gibbs wanted to say something but found that he, again, had no words. He had plenty of questions, though. But he couldn't make himself keep interrogating his agent, bringing up old hurts just to fill the silence.

Tony paid the bill as promised even over Gibbs' protest, and they returned to the car. Gibbs drove, sneaking glances at his silent passenger, who simply stared out into the black night. Wracking his brain for long-buried knowledge of the geography of Long Island to give Gibbs directions, Tony found himself wondering if his old house was still owed by his father and his new wife. He felt a sudden need to go there and cursed himself for not driving himself, for not coming alone. His chest ached with the intense longing to go find the house and sit in his mother's music room—whether it was DiNozzo-owned or not. Hell, I've got a badge…

He felt tears burn his eyes as he thought about his mother's piano. He blinked furiously to clear the moisture, his need to have the instrument back as urgent as the need to draw oxygen. He closed his eyes and felt his breath hitch. Goddammit, get a grip. You will not cry. Not here. Not now.

A quick glance to his left and the tight set of Gibbs' mouth told him his boss had heard him but was mercifully ignoring him. Tony forced himself to calm down, to breathe slowly and evenly. He opened his eyes and saw they were approaching the hospital.

"There's a hotel just down the block. I'll check in with you and walk back," Tony said. "I'll get you your own room, and if you even think about paying, I'll shoot you," he added quickly.

Gibbs gave him a look. "Only one of us is armed right now, DiNozzo."

Tony's eyes widened in shock as he reached to his bare side. "Holy hell, Boss, I…"

Gibbs just shook his head. "No rule saying you have to carry off-duty."

"I know, but I always…"

"I know," Gibbs said, shooting a glance at his distressed face. "Don't worry about it, Tony."

Gibbs pulled into the hotel parking lot and got out of the car, stretching and leaning on the roof. "One room, DiNozzo. We've shared before." He watched Tony shift uncomfortably and try to mask the movement under the weight of his bag. "Unless you really want to be alone."

Tony debated. It wasn't a financial decision but an emotional one. He gave in, knowing he couldn't make Gibbs sit in a hotel room alone all weekend while he shuttled back and forth to the hospital. If that was even his plan. Right then, Tony had no idea what he was going to be doing all weekend, but he figured being around Gibbs would help ground him if he needed it—that was why he had agreed to let Gibbs come anyway. In truth, he really didn't want to be alone.

"Okay," he said, following Gibbs into the hotel.

They walked into the room, Tony letting Gibbs go first and letting him claim his choice of beds. Just looking at the neatly smoothed comforter made him realize how tired he was and how much he wanted to simply sleep through this whole mess. Gibbs dropped his bag onto the bed nearest the door and watched Tony eye the mattress longingly.

"Been a long day," Gibbs said. "Long week."

Tony sighed. "I'm going tonight, Gibbs."

The lead agent smiled softly. "Had to try."

Tony went to stand by the window and looked out into the late-summer night. "I'd like nothing more than to pass out for the rest of the night and go tomorrow," Tony admitted to the glass. "But he might be gone tomorrow," he said so quietly Gibbs almost missed it.

Gibbs didn't know what to say to that so he asked, "You bring your badge? Might help you with stubborn nurses trying to enforce visiting hours."

Tony nodded. "Apparently I wasn't completely out of my mind while packing." He was silent a moment. "There's another reason I want to go tonight."

"She might not be there?" Gibbs ventured, studying Tony's back, noting the tension in his shoulders. He could practically see the knots there since Tony had changed out of his suit, and it made Gibbs realize he had been able to read DiNozzo so much easier when he had dressed more casually. Gibbs suddenly couldn't remember the last time he had seen Tony not in an insanely expensive suit, but he also found himself thinking of Kate and shook off the thoughts.

"Yeah," Tony said. "How crappy a person does it make me? That I feel like I can judge her by whether she's there holding vigil or not?"

Gibbs lifted a shoulder. "Doesn't make you a bad person, DiNozzo. That's the investigator in you."

Tony flinched at the slight hint of pride in Gibbs' tone, and the older man saw the reaction in the glass. Hell, DiNozzo…

Tony turned finally. "I'm going to go before I fall asleep standing here," he said, moving toward the door. "I'll be quiet when I get back."

Gibbs glared at him.

"What?" Tony asked, seeing the look.

"You really think I'm going to let you go alone?" Gibbs asked, erasing the glare and trying to soften his tone.

Tony winced. "I was hoping…"

Gibbs fought the urge to headslap him. "No way. I came here for moral support, Tony. I can't do that remotely. And I don't skip out on my promises. Come on."