Title: A Piece of Blue Sky
Pairing: Tony DiNozzo/Jethro Gibbs
Warnings: Some naughty language, adult themes, supernatural themes and screwed up situations. Also this story is slash –though nothing hardcore. I mean, Leroy's seven for most of it people and I don't write chan.
Spoilers: None really. Just the show in general. And if you don't watch NCIS then why are you reading this?
Disclaimer: Unless you live under a rock, you should know this isn't mine. And for those who do live under a rock... how'd you get access to a power point, let alone a computer?
Summary: When Tony is shot in action, he's surprised to find himself stuck somewhere between life and death. Which would be cause for concern even without a seven year old Leroy Jethro Gibbs for company. As Tony is plagued by questions of his own existence, Leroy finds himself in desperate need for help. Can Tony get them home safely?
Authors Note: The next part. I've changed a few things in the first chapter –nothing major. Changed the remote control (which didn't exist in the sixties) into an empty glass and the part where Tony tells Leroy they've worked together for six years now reads nine. I couldn't find it in me to change the Dr Who reference. It's just too prime a use of it. You're going to have to live with it I'm afraid. On another note, thanks go to everyone reviewing –it's really heartening how positive a response this fic has gotten and it means a lot.
I'm sick to death of shadows
I long for something real
hate these inconsistencies
Give me something corporeal
For it seems my life is faded
That all the colours all are grey
Give me blue, pink, mauve or white
To wash it all away
I hate this foul existence
It's like living in a mirror
But nothing here is solid
Outlines seem to shimmer
Tell me what I need to do
To escape this harsh brutality
And please, offer me something more
Than a reflection of reality
Chapter Two: Reflections of Reality
They were on the bus not even ten minutes, but Leroy spent the whole of it glued to the window. Looking at him –this tiny boy who was still so filled with innocence despite the day he'd had –it was hard to believe he'd one day grow into Gibbs.
Of course, there was still very good chance he was imagining this.
Deciding not to dwell on that possibility, Tony instead tried to imagine that this was real. That he'd died and had, somehow (through some twisted, but classic, form of DiNozzo luck) ended up in the past. What sort of implications would it have?
Then again, perhaps it wouldn't have any. If this was the past then anything that happened had already happened –and Gibbs had never interacted with Tony as though he'd remembered him. Would something happen that would cause little Leroy to forget what had happened? Or had Gibbs eventually dismissed his invisible helper as the over active imagination of a child?
"Tony –I mean Emily," Leroy corrected himself with a smile, "There's the train station up ahead –see? You can see the sign."
"You wanna pull the cord?" Tony invited and, like any child, Leroy jumped at the chance –in this case literally as he sprang to his feet, reached up his tip-toes and gave the cord a firm yank.
The bus slid to a halt moments later, jerking slightly as it became stationary. Leroy was up at once, grabbing Tony's hand and pulling them through the walkway and down the steps, waving cheerfully to the bus driver as he dismounted.
The train station was underground. The walls were an endless sea of gray concrete, the floor liberally covered in filth and the lights barely adequate. It was also several degrees colder than it had been outside and markedly stuffier as well. Tony put up with it all with very ill grace, trying (with mixed success) to navigate his way through the identical walkways.
"Alright," Tony plotted when they finally found the ticket booth, "So don't talk to me and ask how you can get to Stillwater."
"Okay," Leroy agreed, already disregarding the first order completely.
Tony resisted the temptation to head slap him. Somehow, Gibbs would find out about it and kill him –already dead or no. He settled for feeling a profound sense of doom as Leroy approached the window.
"Excuse me?" he began, with a butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth demeanour, "Ms? How would I get to Stillwater?"
"Little young to be travelling alone, ain't ya?" The woman asked, concerned.
"I'm seven and a half!" Leroy protested, honestly indignant, "Sides, my daddy's gonna meet me on the train. Only I forget which one it is."
It wasn't exactly a mastermind of a story. The woman, rightly so, didn't look like she was buying what Leroy was selling. Still, apparently children wandering around by themselves was cause for concern but not for action, because she nodded as though she believed him and gestured to the railway map behind her.
"No direct routes," she explained, "Stillwater's pretty isolated. You'll need to go to Orangeville first and change there. At Orangeville, you'll need to hop on a train to Fishing Creek Township. From there you'll have to get a train heading towards Benton –but make sure it's an all-stop train. Otherwise it might not stop at Stillwater first. You get all that hon?"
"Orangeville, Fishing Creek, Benton," Leroy recited obediently, "How long will that take me?"
"You'll likely have to wait between stops, so I can't rightly say," the woman admitted, "There's a good chance you won't get there before dark."
For a trip that would take Tony just over two hours to drive, that was bothersome.
"Darn," Leroy swore softly, making the woman give him a very disapproving look, "What platform?"
"Platform two," she replied, still looking at Leroy as though to chastise him, "And you're in luck. Next train to Orangeville is only five minutes away. That'll be a dollar fifty please."
Leroy handed the money over dutifully, taking his ticket with a soft word of thanks before turning back to Tony.
"Let's go then," Tony prompted, grabbing Leroy's hand, "Platform two, huh? Where's that, do you think?"
Leroy shrugged articulately but, as it turned out, it wasn't too much of a strain finding it –there were only two platforms, both of them adjacent to each other and situated at the top of some steps that were easily located in the centre of the tunnel. Though the streets had been rather busy, the train station was utterly deserted with Leroy and Tony being the only one's there... and that's if Tony counted himself which, corporeal as he was, was questionable.
At least there were benches.
Leroy sunk into the nearest one the moment he saw them and Tony followed suit. He felt oddly he was fulfilling the role as Leroy's stark opposite for where Leroy was half falling asleep where he was, Tony didn't feel tired at all. Nor did he feel particularly energised. Rather he felt weary in mind but not in body –his body seemed to be running passively, neither too fast nor too slow. Thinking about it only made Tony feel twitchy, so he forcefully ignored his own physiological existence and focused instead on his charge.
"Do you think Harley's awake yet?" Leroy wondered, yawning halfway through his question.
"I don't know," Tony mused, considering that, "Probably. I don't think I hit him that hard."
"You hit him?" Leroy probed, perking up a little at that.
"Knocked him out cold," Tony confided, "Wasn't going to let him get away with hurting you."
Leroy grinned at that and looked up abruptly as the strange rattling sound that heralded a coming train began to echo through the chamber.
"That's us," Tony prompted as he levered Leroy to his feet.
There was a loud screech, metal jarring against metal, as the train streamed before them and rolled to a smooth halt. Like the bus, the train was decades older than the ones Tony was used to catching and, like the bus, it seemed far from stable. Apparently transport safety guidelines hadn't been all too strenuous in the sixties.
As though to further taunt Tony, the doors refused to open smoothly. Leroy gave them a firm tug to pull them ajar completely nonchalantly enough that it was clearly commonplace and climbed onboard with Tony sharp on his six –as always.
Unlike the trains that existed in the year 2010, this train was only a single story –which, considering its stability, was likely a good thing. Another detail to note was that, while the station had been empty, the train itself was half full of people on their way to Orangeville. Leroy found a bench with two seats and slid in, slumping down tiredly as he did so.
"You can go to sleep," Tony assured, "I think we'll be here a while."
"I've slept enough," Leroy protested.
"Which doesn't mean you need it any less," Tony rebutted, "I won't let anyone hurt you."
"I'm not sleepy," Leroy snapped moodily, his temper disproving his statement more than any argument Tony could have dreamt up, "And I can look after myself."
"But you don't have to," Tony returned quietly and, seeing Leroy's mulish look, decided to try a different track, "You're a good man, you know. In the future. A good boss. Saved my life more times than I can count. Before McGee and Ziva and even Kate it used to be just you and me. Which wasn't always a good thing."
Leroy was listening... or trying to listen. The rhythmic rocking of the train and the soothing tone of Tony's voice was working some sort of spell on him that made his eyelids seem overly heavy. He stifled a yawn and leaned against Tony –just a little. Encouraged, Tony continued.
"Some days it was terrible. I'd never worked anywhere for long and you were so hard to please. But, oddly, that made me more determined to last. It was as though I knew you expected nothing less than perfection from me... which made me think you believed me capable of it. No one had ever believed that of me before. Certainly not my father. At first, I wanted to prove that I could live up to those beliefs. But the longer we worked together the more that changed."
Leroy leaned even further against Tony's shoulder, his eyes slipping closed completely. Tony didn't falter, knowing the child hovered on a precipice –stopping now might break the spell completely.
"I got to know you. I'd never worked for anyone so determined to solve a case, so persistent. And you didn't even want the recognition –actually sought to deny it. All you wanted was justice for the victims, for their families. You cared –you cared more than anyone I'd ever met. You made me not only want to be a better cop but a better person. You made me see in myself everything I could be instead of everything I wasn't. It was... a revelation."
Leroy's head dropped completely. Shifting back, Tony coaxed it onto his lap and manoeuvred Leroy's legs so that he was laying on the bench completely. Leroy stirred only slightly at the manipulation and, soothingly, Tony began running his fingers through Leroy's hair as he spoke.
"I was constantly amazed by your strength, you know. It seemed endless some days. I became so in tune with you that I could tell what you wanted before you demanded it –began fetching you coffees before you asked, walking in sync behind you, anticipating your actions and acting to compliment them. Even when we were only a two man team we had the highest solve rate in all of NCIS. It's humbling to know you like this, Leroy. You're nothing like him –not yet. A mere shadow... there's stubbornness there, of course. A willingness to persevere, to never give up. Not to mention your curiosity. And your eyes. Your eyes haven't changed at all."
Leroy was deeply in slumber now but Tony persisted in running his fingers through his hair.
"I think I would have known who you were," he mused, to finish his soliloquy, "If I hadn't known you were from Stillwater or your first name. Or even anything about you at all –I would have known you for your eyes alone."
Inexplicitly, there was so much more that Tony wanted to say. He wanted to stay everything that always felt too hard to say: he wanted to apologise for dying, for all the times he'd screwed up. He wanted to tell Gibbs how much he'd admired him... how deeply he'd come to love him. But the boy sleeping innocently in his lap wasn't that man (not yet) and it wasn't fair to treat him like he was –like a substitute.
So Tony remained mute as he drew Leroy closer to himself and waited patiently for their stop. It was only twenty five minutes later that the conductor was announcing Orangeville as the next stop and, reluctantly, Tony shook Leroy awake.
"Mmmm?" Leroy managed as he stirred.
"It's our stop," Tony explained, helping him sit up. Leroy shook his head, clearing the sleep out, and raised a hand to rub at his eyes, looking ridiculously young as he did so.
"Orangeville?" Leroy checked, yawning.
"Yep," Tony agreed and, already the train was beginning to slow, "Next stop Fishing Creek."
Leroy groaned in protest but nonetheless staggered to his feet and dismounted the train with Tony guiding the way. The train set off again pretty much the moment their feet touched concrete and, looking around the station, Tony spied a timetable. He coaxed Leroy onto a bench and went to examine it. Fishing Creek wasn't on it, which meant they were on the wrong platform. Tony looked towards the sky, hoping it wouldn't rain. Unlike Bloomsburg, this station wasn't underground –though on the bright side, Tony could see the other platform very clearly across the way, the two connected by a bridge.
Resisting the impulse to pick Leroy up (which would look very peculiar indeed to anyone that saw them) Tony hauled the child to his feet and all but dragged him up the steps, across the bridge and back down again. Thankfully, Fishing Creek was on the timetable here, the trains every half hour. Tony checked his watch, hoping for the best, but the next train was sixteen minutes away.
Leroy, this time around, was too tired to even put up a fight or require a story. He curled himself up on the bench, head in Tony's lap, without having to be prompted and was asleep almost instantly. Tony, feeling his heart clench for the boy, began his rhythmic petting up again. With the day Leroy had had, what the child really needed was a warm cup of hot chocolate and a feather bed.
"Poor thing," Tony couldn't help but sympathise quietly, very thankful Leroy was dead to the world –he would have glared fiercely at the endearment otherwise.
It occurred to him then that Leroy never would have made it this far alone. Even supposing that he hadn't been raped and killed in that derelict hotel room (an image that made Tony's blood run hot with fury and desire to knock Harley out all over again) he never would have managed on the streets by himself. With no money, nowhere to go, no idea where he was –even the most stubborn of children would have found themselves quickly at a loss or, worse, taken advantage of by those possessing a less scrupulous nature.
Unsettled by the idea of a world without Leroy Jethro Gibbs in it, Tony clutched the child a little more tightly and allowed his hand to linger as it swept the hair out of Leroy's forehead. The motion was aborted abruptly, however, and Tony frowned, pausing to lay his hand directly over the boy's brow.
It was warm.
Tony swore. Raising his other hand, he double-checked his findings but they proved to be conclusive. Leroy had a fever.
Considering he'd spent two days drugged into submission (not to mention dragged all over Bloomsburg) this was not all together surprising –merely inconvenient as hell. Still, Tony could hardly blame Leroy for possessing a body that reacted badly to being heavily drugged and, thus, his frustrations were denied a convenient outlet.
For a long (and largely irrational) moment, Tony considered waking Leroy so that he could grill him about his wellbeing. But even Tony knew that nothing could be done –if Leroy was sick, waking him up wouldn't serve to make him any less so. All Tony could do, actually, was try to ensure he got some rest. And perhaps keep him warm.
As though to spite him, the sky rumbled ominously.
Tony looked up appraisingly. The sky was a collage of furious greys that waxed and waned rapidly. A streak of lightning jumped from one cloud to another and, a few seconds later, thunder sounded. Teasingly, a drop of rain fell, landing directly onto Tony's upturned nose.
Winkling said nose uncomfortably, Tony checked his watch optimistically. Six more minutes to go.
Tony peered down the railway track futilely, as though the train could conjure itself into existence on the foreseeable track before him. Of course, no such train designed to do so.
Another drop of rain fell, this time on Tony's hand. The next came only seconds later, landing on the crown of his head. After that, they came more rapidly and it wasn't long before Leroy was stirring, peeking blearily up at the sky above them.
"It raining?" he mumbled worriedly.
"Just sprinkling," Tony assured, hoping it would stay that way, "Here."
He dragged Leroy towards him, shucking off his jacket as he did so. The resulting position left Leroy curled up on his lap, head resting in the hollow of Tony's shoulder. Tony used his superior height to hunch himself over the child and, using the jacket as a buffer, wrapped it around them both, shielding Leroy from the worst of the elements –and Tony not at all.
It began to rain more steadily almost at once, as though the heavens had seen this as permission, and Tony found himself slowly (but thoroughly) soaked. Luckily, his bulk and the way that he'd arranged Leroy and the jacket, meant that the child remained largely protected. To the extent that the boy had fallen back into a light doze.
Knowing his makeshift cover wouldn't last, Tony managed to check his watch again. Three minutes to go. Now that it was raining, the watch had apparently decided to slow time to an infinite crawl. Which, really, was just Tony's sort of luck.
Beneath him, Leroy shivered. Tony hugged the boy ever closer, trying to use his own body warmth to keep him warm. He didn't know much about medicine but it seemed to him that the worst thing for Leroy to be right then was cold and wet.
"Come on," Tony pleaded the still absent train, starting to shiver himself at the cold, "Hurry the hell up."
Begging clearly had no effect and the next three minutes absolutely crawled. The only thing Tony had cause to be thankful for was that while the rain didn't slow, it didn't up its tempo any either. Which was a lucky thing indeed, for Tony doubted his barrier would continue to protect Leroy if it began to pour.
At last, Tony heard it. The best sound in the world. The swoosh of air and the metal against metal as a train pulled into the station.
"Leroy," Tony coaxed, poking the boy gently, "Come on, up and at 'em."
"My head hurts," Leroy complained tiredly, nonetheless allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.
"I know," Tony sympathised, "We'll be home soon enough. I promise. Just get onto the train for me."
Leroy nodded, shamelessly stealing Tony's cloak as they separated and wrapping it around himself. It dwarfed him completely, earning some curious looks from the other passengers, but Leroy seemed beyond caring.
Tony all but dragged him to a seat and forced him onto it. Leroy leaned against Tony at once but didn't sleep. Laying a worried hand against his forehead, Tony frowned. Exact temperatures were hard to gauge using skin alone, but it felt as though Leroy was warmer than he had been before.
"How are you feeling?" Tony asked.
"Pretty horrid," Leroy admitted, blinking at Tony sorrowfully, "Achy all over. And really heavy. Like my bones are filled with lead."
"It's because you were drugged so long," Tony explained, "Sedation is always risky. Your body is reacting badly to the harsh changes."
At least, that was what Tony hoped the problem was. If this was an infection from a dirty needle or a nicked artery from an awkward injection, they were screwed.
"Hate Harley," Leroy muttered darkly.
"Me too," Tony agreed earnestly, "I should have hit him harder."
Leroy grinned at that, eyes brightening slightly before they turned to the window.
"Wow," he managed, blinking a touch bemusedly, "It's really pouring down."
Attention caught, Tony peered out of the window. The rain was coming so furiously now that Tony couldn't see the scenery past it. The sky was now a chaotic sea of black and, wet though he was, Tony thanked god they'd missed this.
Which was perhaps pre-emptive since they still had another train to catch.
"How much longer?" Leroy wondered, mind running along a similar track.
"We're over halfway," Tony offered in place of a concrete answer, "Only one more train to before we get to Stillwater."
"How're we going to get from the station to home?" Leroy persisted.
"Is it far?" Tony asked, "Could we walk it?"
"Well yeah, we could," Leroy admitted, eyeing Tony oddly, "But in this?"
He waved a hand towards the window to emphasize his point. The bolt of lightning that flashed just as he did so certainly provided a convincing argument.
"How far?" Tony repeated, stubbornly.
"Fifteen minutes if we hurried," Leroy replied at last, slouching down unhappily, "Usually takes me twenty. We're walking, aren't we?"
"Not unless there are many cabs in Stillwater?" Tony prodded.
"No," Leroy managed mulishly, "You have to call them in advance."
"Then we're walking."
Thunder clapped loudly, heralding that declaration, and Leroy groaned.
*~*~*~*~*
TBC...
*~*~*~*~*
Note: The places are all real –they actually exist –but the transport details are utter fiction. So sue me.
Next chapter will be longer, promise. Things will heat up a little as well. And yay for exams being over! *dances*
Oh, and all the poems are mine. ^^