Title: Road Trip
by: rose malmaison
Characters: DiNozzo, Gibbs
Genre: Gen, friendship, pre-show (1991-1993)
Rating: PG/teen
Warnings: Language, hint of earlier physical abuse
Spoilers: None

Chapter 3 - Strange Moments

..and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn't know who I was…
~ Jack Kerouac

December, 1991, Columbus, Ohio

"Hey, DiNozzo, there's a dude downstairs asking for you."

"For me?" A tube of hair gel in hand, Tony halted in mid-tweak of an errant lock of his hair, and turned away from the mirror. A glance at the clock told him it was 10:45. Sort of late for callers, even on a Saturday night. Cautiously he asked his roommate, Barry, "He isn't wearing a designer suit, is he?" He couldn't bring himself to ask outright if it was his father.

Arriving unannounced might be Senior's style, but not at a college dorm. If he wanted to meet, Dad would pick a neutral location, maybe an upscale restaurant in the city, the kind of establishment that loaned you a tie if you came to dinner without one. Seeing as Tony hadn't laid eyes on his father since last summer, and had only spoken to him, briefly and angrily, on the phone a couple of times since then, he doubted the visitor could be him.

Barry shook his head and leaned against the frame of the door that was open to the busy corridor. This was a big night with plenty of celebrations and parties going on and the dorm was pretty noisy. "No, he looks like…um…"

Tony asked, "Like what?"

Barry threw himself on his bed, not bothering to move any of his papers, clothing or other stuff strewn upon it. Tony's half of the room was neat, a by-product of his years at boarding and military schools; his friends had commented that all that order didn't seem to match the free-style ways of Tony DiNozzo. "He looks like a cop. You let another cow loose in the science lab, DiNozzo?"

A cop wanted to see him? Tony quickly cast his mind back to his recent activities and tried to think of anything that might warrant a cop looking for him. He shook his head and replied, "No, and I know this'll ruin my reputation, but I can't think of anything I've done wrong lately." If it were official business, wouldn't the man be at his door flashing a badge instead of waiting downstairs? "What'd he look like, other than a cop?"

"Wasn't wearing any uniform," Barry said helpfully. "He's all in gray. Gray suit, gray hair, and I'll bet that bulge under his jacket is a big gray gun."

Tony dabbed a little more gel on his hair and was about to ask for more details when there was a knock on the open door, and there stood the cop, as described, dressed all in gray. Startled, all Tony could take in was the man's blue eyes. "Gibbs." The name escaped Tony's lips, almost in a whisper. Then, louder, with a broad smile, he said, "Gibbs!"

Leroy Jethro Gibbs stood there for a minute, looking over Tony, his roommate and the small dorm room in what appeared to be a detached way. When his gaze slipped back to Tony and their eyes met once again, Gibbs gave a nod and a slight smile. "DiNozzo. Can we have a word?"

Realizing he was standing there like an idiot, grinning, with a tube of hair gel in hand, Tony shook himself. "Sure…sure." It then struck him that Gibbs may be bearing bad news and his heart did an uneven dance.

Gibbs must have seen the flash of fear in Tony's eyes because he immediately said, "Relax. I'm not here on business." He looked pointedly at Tony's roommate and back to the young man he'd come to see. "I'll take you for coffee."

It sounded like an order, but Tony didn't mind. After casually introducing Gibbs to his roomie, Tony grabbed his red and white Ohio State jacket and led the way downstairs and out. They had to shoulder their way through crowds of students, many of them in a celebratory mood and somewhat inebriated state. Several of the college kids patted Tony on the shoulder and congratulated him on that night's basketball win.

"There's a place a couple of miles from here," Tony suggested as soon as they made it outside and away from the dorm building. He pulled up his collar against the cold December air and said, almost apologetically, "I'm sorta hungry and it's the nearest place with real food. It's a diner, if that's okay."

"I'll drive then," Gibbs said, pointing in the direction of his car. "I'm not keeping you from any parties, am I?"

He was, but Tony didn't care. "I'd rather get some food."

The implication that he'd rather spend time with Gibbs was not lost on the older man. As they walked across the campus, Gibbs said, "Thought you had that apartment."

"It was only for the summer, and besides, this is where the actions is. I have to wait for a place to open in the frat house before I could move in. I'm pledged to Alpha Chi Delta but there are twice as many brothers as there are beds in the house."

Gibbs led the way to his car and as soon as they were on their way, he said, "Caught the last half of the game. You played well."

Glad that the interior of the car was so dark that Gibbs couldn't see the way his face reddened at the praise, Tony said, "Thanks."

"You cut it pretty close with your last layup, DiNozzo. You hot-dogging it there?"

"I was being blocked. If I coulda got a clean shot it would have made it in before the buzzer," Tony explained somewhat defensively. "It was 'cause it bounced on the rim. I didn't think it was going to go in, but then I heard the crowd cheering. That's when I knew it was good." It had been a good game, one of their best team efforts, he thought. "Coach Ayers said we needed to work together to beat the Tar Heels, and he was right. Did you see Prentiss' offensive moves? He was on top of his game tonight."

Gibbs nodded. "80 to 73. It was a solid game. Looks like you're a scrapper out there on the court." He glanced over at Tony and gave him a smile that was incrementally wider than the one that had accompanied his greeting in the dorm. "Glad I had the chance to finally see you in action, Tony."

Tony felt a combination of surprise, pride and satisfaction at Gibbs' words. He said quietly, "I'm glad you could come."

***–***

Once they were at the diner and seated opposite each other, the two men perused the menu and then ordered. Gibbs wasn't much of a conversationalist but he was content to listen to Tony. The younger man kept up his end while they waited for their food, talking about that night's game, sports, and college life in general. After their food came – roast chicken with rice and black beans, and a large cup of black coffee for Gibbs, two sides of fries, and a huge plate of spaghetti Bolognese, along with a glass of milk for Tony – they ate in silence for a while.

The last time Gibbs had seen Tony was at the end of the summer, when he'd taken Tony to a ballgame and they'd spent the next day hanging out – with Tony that meant spending half the time eating – before Gibbs had to head back to DC. It was then that Gibbs had vowed to make an effort to visit Tony whenever he could.

It was obvious the boy needed a father figure, just as Col. Hargrave had pointed out. Instead of being a stand-in for Senior, the thought of which didn't sit well with Gibbs, he decided he'd be a friend to Tony. He could do that, be there for him for advice or whatever, be a constant for a long time to come. Before he left, Gibbs had told Tony of his intention, though not in so many words. Just said that he'd visit when he could, that the demands of his job made it tough but he'd like to come back during football season, if Tony would like that.

Tony had stared at him for so long that Gibbs had thought he'd said the wrong thing, although for the life of him couldn't figure out what it was. Then Tony had smiled, his mouth slowly dawning into a great big grin, and he'd simply said, "Cool."

Now, surreptitiously inspecting Tony across the diner table, Gibbs found he looked good, healthy. The first time he'd met Tony, in that rundown apartment he'd called home, the kid had been underfed and almost gawky – but no longer. Now he seemed happy and more confident, too. It was apparent that Tony had packed on some muscle from all the sports he was involved in. He was tall and lean and, to Gibbs, seemed made for basketball, or swimming or track, rather than football. He'll get killed out on the football field, thought Gibbs, his gut churning unexpectedly.

The diner was busy considering the late hour, and the waitresses, hard-working women who called everyone 'honey', worked briskly and efficiently. A couple of college girls who were on their way out stopped at the table when they saw Tony, and he flirted with them without breaking a sweat. Gibbs sat back and watched the young man at work, keeping his amusement to himself. There was no doubt that Tony was as practiced with girls as he was with shooting hoops. When the girls reluctantly said good night and left, Gibbs wondered, if he hadn't been present, which one of them would have been warming Tony's bed that night. Maybe both?

After he'd left Tony with his relatives in New York, Gibbs had thought about Tony occasionally, and wondered how he was doing. He'd been busy though, was recruited by NIS and relocated to DC, but even so, Gibbs had occasionally discreetly checked on Tony's progress. For some reason, he felt responsible for the young man. Even if DiNozzo Sr. had been worried enough to arrange for Gibbs to act as Tony's bodyguard, the man was almost entirely absent from Tony's life. Kids needed someone to be there for them, even kids going on nineteen who thought they were tough as nails and could manage on their own.

Like Col. Hargrave had said, Tony needed a steady adult in his life, a mentor, if nothing else, and so Gibbs took on the job. He liked the kid, he admitted to himself. No, he wasn't responsible for him; Tony wasn't his son. But they'd made a connection during their brief time together, and he had a feeling that by simply making himself available to Tony, it would make a huge difference in Tony's life. And a difference to his own life as well, he expected. Gibbs realized that he didn't mind the good feeling that gave him, not at all.

Tony pushed his food around on his plate, seemingly preoccupied. After a while he asked, "What made you come to the game? And out to eat with me?"

Gibbs drank some coffee and then said matter-of-factly, "I was hungry."

Tony looked up in disbelief at the too-simple explanation. "Oh, so you just happened to be in the neighborhood?"

Gibbs smiled sheepishly. "I really was in the area. Finished a job at the Naval Station Great Lakes and was heading to DC. Thought I'd see how you're doing."

Tony scrutinized Gibbs' face for a long moment but he seemed satisfied with what he saw and went back to eating. At Tony's prompting, Gibbs talked a bit about one of the NCIS investigations he'd worked on recently. Tony asked questions as if he were an investigator on the case and made some astute observations.

Even though Tony had almost driven him crazy with his chatter during that long drive from Ohio to New York, once they had gone their separate ways, Gibbs had missed him a lot more than he would have expected. He put it down to having been lonely. Gibbs had barely spoken to anyone since he'd been notified of the deaths of Shannon and Kelly, but he'd opened up a little to Tony, and within the short time they'd spent together that crack had widened considerably. Now, sitting opposite the young man, just talking and sharing a meal, made him feel good, like he was at home.

Gibbs had gone out of his way to look into DiNozzo's dealings after he'd joined NCIS and he had not liked what he'd found out. Not that he was going to reveal any of his findings to Tony. He hoped the older DiNozzo had learned to keep his business problems under control, if only to prevent putting Tony in further danger. At some point the conversation Gibbs had an opening to ask something he'd been wondering about. "Does your dad often come to your games?"

Tony stopped eating and became very still, all emotion draining from his face, his eyes darkening. His eyes dropped and he appeared to be concentrating on something very interesting on his plate, but Gibbs could see a muscle twitching in his jaw. It was such a change from the animated young man of only a few seconds earlier that Gibbs was concerned. "Hey, Tony, you okay?" He reached out and touched Tony's chin with a couple of fingers, gently urging him to look up.

Tony's green eyes, usually so expressive, were flat. It was as if he didn't even see Gibbs, they were so blank and far away. As quickly as he'd changed from vibrant to lifeless, Tony changed back to his usual outgoing self with a quick smile. He shook his head. "No, sports aren't his thing. Besides, he's really busy with work and everything. He travels a lot, you know? I ever tell you he took me to Hawaii once, when I was a kid?"

Gibbs shook his head, wondering what it was that he'd just witnessed.

Tony helped himself to a couple of fries from Gibbs' plate, so casually that Gibbs knew it was a habit. "I really like this place," said Tony. "Great atmosphere, don't you think? Hey, have you ever seen the film Diner? It's about a group of high school buddies from Baltimore who meet up over the holidays in 1959 and hang out in a diner like this."

If Gibbs hadn't seen Tony's transformation with his own eyes he never would have known that there was something going on with him. That the mere mention of Tony's father had changed Tony so drastically was troublesome, to say the least. Witnessing those few seconds of withdrawal chilled Gibbs to the core.

Gibbs watched the young man sitting across from him as he started a discourse on a film. If any of that troubled Tony was in there, it was well hidden. He wondered if Tony even knew how his expression had changed, how his whole body had tensed up. Had it been a flash of something dark in an otherwise sunny disposition, or was it possible that Tony could be concealing his true dark self with a fresh, shiny face that he put on for the public? No, if that were the case, he would have seen it when they were on that road trip; they'd been together for three solid days. They'd gotten to know each other, as much as was possible in that time, anyway.

"There's no coherent plot, really," Tony said, pushing his plate away and leaning back in the booth. "It's episodic, concentrates on character, but there's this great scene when the friends take bets on whether a regular customer, this huge guy, can eat his way through the entire menu."

Gibbs knew, all too well, the price of living a lie, of acting as if everything was fine when all he wanted to do was let it all out, to yell, to strike out, to hurt somebody. He'd become used to hiding his true self, and it was second nature now, but he'd seen a war's worth of death and senseless cruelty. His family had been murdered…taken from him. Gibbs felt emotion squeeze his heart, both for the loss of his wife and child, and with worry over whatever Tony was going through on his own. What had happened to him to make him like that, to bottle everything up? Gibbs had had a bad feeling about DiNozzo Sr. since their first phone contact and his uneasiness about the man had only grown worse since then.

Tony waved his fork in the air as he spoke. "So this guy has to eat his way through appetizers, side dishes, pancakes, pork chops, pies and everything. There's a hundred things on that menu. These friends spend hours eating greasy food, drinking bad coffee and arguing over movies, music and women. Great film."

Whatever had come over Tony, it was long gone and apparently not about to make another appearance. When Tony reached for another of Gibbs' fries, Gibbs pushed the plate closer to him. "You always this hungry? Go ahead. Finish them up."

Tony nodded. "Thanks, I'm always really hungry after a game. I can't decide if I'm going to pursue basketball or football but I've already had a football scout approach me." He leaned forward eagerly. "I don't care so long as I get a chance at a sports career. Coach says I need to weigh my options carefully."

"There's nothing wrong with having dreams, Tony. Your coach sounds like a man with a head on his shoulders. You should listen to his advice." He'd better check on Tony and make sure he had someone to talk to, especially if what his gut told him about Tony's father was right, that Senior was not only one selfish bastard, but something far worse.

"I'd listen to you, Gibbs, if you've got any advice to give me."

"Keep up your studies. Even jocks need to use their brains." Gibbs handed Tony his card, even though he'd made sure he'd had his numbers when they'd parted last May. "I'm only a phone call away. Day or night."

Tony stared at the card and then put it away safely in his pocket. He said in a quiet voice, "Thanks, Gibbs. That means a lot to me." In the blink of an eye Tony hid his serious side away just as if he'd tucked his feelings in his pocket alongside Gibbs' business card. His face lit up once again. "Anyway, in Diner, one of the guys gives his fiancée a football test. Over a hundred questions on it. If she doesn't get a good score he won't marry her." Tony laughed and slapped the table. "It's virtually impossible to get a perfect score. You can tell he's setting her up to fail." He shook his head at the stupidity and the cleverness of it all.

"Maybe I should get hold of a copy of that test," Gibbs said with a wry smile. "Might come in handy."

"Hell, I don't care if a girl knows about football or not, so long as she'll make out during half-time," he said with a laugh. Tony changed gears again, saying, almost shyly, "We have a game in Charlottesville in two weeks. Not too far from you."

Gibbs couldn't promise anything, particularly as he knew that if he couldn't attend due to work, more than a promise would be broken. "I'd like to come but if I'm on a case…Look, I'll try, Tony."

Their eyes met and Tony seemed to be searching for something in Gibbs' face. Gibbs caught a glimpse of some of that seriousness he'd seen before, but this time there didn't seem to be anything dark hidden behind it. After a moment Tony nodded. "I don't expect any promises. All I ask is that you try."

***–***

Gibbs turned off the engine but neither of them made any move to get out of the car. "Guess I'll head back to the motel. Have to leave at the crack of dawn."

"Back to the old grind?" Tony asked.

"It's a tough job sometimes. Not the work, but the people, the victims…"

Tony didn't know what to say to that. "Thanks for everything, Gibbs."

Gibbs shrugged. "Just a meal. Glad I could come though, and get a chance to see you play."

"Thanks for that, too. Next time, let me know you're in the audience and maybe I can score a hoop for you," Tony said with a grin.

"Will do." Gibbs cleared his throat and said, "Look, I've been thinking, maybe you could visit for Christmas break." He reached into his jacket pocket and handed Tony an envelope.

Tony carefully opened it. There was an airline ticket in there, a round-trip to DC for the 22nd of December. He stared at it, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, his eyes pricking.

"Unless you have other plans," Gibbs said in an offhand manner that Tony knew full well was anything but casual. He could read Gibbs pretty well by now which, he had a feeling, was quite an achievement.

"No, no plans." Tony stared at the ticket.

"You're not going to visit your dad?" prompted Gibbs.

"Uh, no. Dad's going to the Caymans with his buddies. I was gonna put in some extra hours at work but they shut down the health center for the week." Tony had been prepared to be alone during the holidays, which was nothing unusual. He had planned on having his own private Magnum marathon on Christmas Day. All of his precious Magnum episodes had been left behind in New York when he'd split from his father's house, but he had finally replaced all his videos from a kid on campus who sold bootleg copies. Tony realized that Gibbs was looking at him intently, so he cleared his throat and said, "I'd like to come and visit for Christmas, Gibbs."

Gibbs continued to stare at him, to the point where Tony was becoming uncomfortable. But then Gibbs made a small sound as if he, too, was clearing his throat, and he said, "Good. That's settled," and he smiled.

Tony smiled back, suddenly feeling very happy. He picked up a white cardboard box that sat on the seat between them. "You sure you don't want to take this pie with you back to the motel? Late night snack? It was a really good pie."

At that moment Gibbs looked over at him and their eyes met. "It's good," he said.

Not quite sure whether Gibbs was referring to his impending visit or the taste of the apple pie as being good, Tony realized it didn't matter. "Yeah, it's good," he agreed. Tony opened the car door and got out, taking the pie with him. He ducked to look once more time at Gibbs. "You gonna be all right, Gibbs?"

Gibbs smiled back at him. "Yeah. I think I am all right, Tony, just fine."

***–*** end chapter 3 ***–***