Compelled

by Headbanger Rockstar

"I don't look any different. I do all of those things that normal, everyday people do. I am just like every random Joe who walks down the street. Until someone gives me a direct order. Then all bets are off." A look into what makes Tony the Tony we all know and love. AU. Slash Tony/Gibbs pairing. Thanks for reading!

4. Plausible Deniability

Thanks as always to my beta Gotgoats. Goats braved staying awake through the stomach flu to beta this chapter for you guys! Love ya! :)

Author's Note: I dinked with the timeline in the episode again. Loosely based on episode 1.10 Left For Dead—with references to mild spoilers from Season 1 before this episode.

Compelled
Chapter 4: Plausible Deniability

So I packed up my modest apartment in Baltimore (with help from Gibbs and Ducky who refused to leave my side the entire time I was in the city—no one wanted a repeat of what had already happened!) and I moved to Washington D.C. I insisted that I wanted to have my own apartment—Gibbs and I might be in some…kind…of relationship…but I wasn't ready to give up my independence and become a kept man just yet. Hell I'd only met the guy a few days before. Now, some of you might say that it was foolhardy of me to trust someone—anyone—as quickly as I did with Gibbs. But keep in mind one very important thing. He kept me alive when the whole world wished me dead—including me. I wished I had died too.

But anyway.

I moved to DC. And I got this really awesome apartment—ok it's a bit dull, white walls and kinda bare and all, but really awesome. I had room for my piano, my television, my buttery soft leather couch…you know—all those things in life that make existing fun. The apartment building was old, the superintendent was old, and the boiler in the building was very old. I wouldn't be surprised if someone told me that it was used when it was put in the new building that is now old. I'd ventured down to the boiler room once or twice and was always genuinely amazed that the building still had heat at all.

I went through FLETC and joined the ranks as a federal agent. And I took a number out of Danny's book and invested in several well-made, well-taylored suits, in hopes of making myself look more presentable. Things got off to a bit of a rocky start at first…but eventually, once Agent Vivian Blackadder moved on, Gibbs and I became a two man team. We worked well together. He was careful to avoid giving me direct orders most of the time, and in return I followed him blindly and carried out every unspoken order he gave me. We were a fluid team, sharing responsibilities and our solved cases rate grew each month.

So of course something had to go and screw it up.

After about a year of working on our own, the director informed Gibbs that he needed to find a third person for our team. I didn't understand why we needed another person on our team—we had an exemplary solve rate. When I asked Gibbs about it he just shrugged and said we must be showing up the four-man teams with our solve rate.

That was how we came to have Caitlyn Todd on our team. Kate and I hit it off pretty easily and became fast friends. Gibbs didn't mind that and he didn't mind that she and I would occasionally hit the bar or the pizza parlor after work, and he didn't mind that some weekends we'd go clubbing with Abby and sometimes Gerald from Autopsy. Gibbs and I had elected not to disclose the nature of our relationship, or the nature of my genetic makeup to anyone at NCIS. He has his house, I have my apartment. It didn't take Abby and Ducky long to figure it out, though. Apparently Gibbs had been acting a lot less…Gibbs-ish? since I came to NCIS.

The three of us, Kate, Gibbs and myself, we settled into ourselves pretty quickly. There were several cases right in a row that required us to travel a bit, so it didn't take us long to see each other at our best and at our worst. I don't mind traveling so much, but it's always nice to get back home so that our lives could go back to normal. Normal for Gibbs and me meant that some nights we each stayed home and some nights we both stayed at Gibbs' house. I didn't so much mind that we didn't spend all of our time at my apartment…it's kind of my happy place ya know? My zone, my space, my…my sanctuary. Nothing could hurt me there because it was MY space. I created it for me and me alone, as evidenced by the twin-sized bed in the exceptionally large bedroom. Gibbs knows about it—helped me move it into the apartment. He never mentions it though. Hasn't ever questioned it. He gets it.

Gibbs doesn't so much like my apartment because he says any time he's there he always feels like he's getting distracted by all the things in the building that need fixing. Cracks in the ceiling, seals on the windows, leaky faucet in the bathroom, those sorts of things. Me? I love it. Everything about it. It's quirky and weird and it suits me just fine. I love my crappy little apartment with all of its imperfections. But on nights that we stay together, we stay at Gibbs' house. He's lived there for something like twenty five years or something…he says he can't imagine living anywhere else. It's an unspoken truth in our relationship that if he and I ever decided to take our relationship to the next level and move in together, that I'd be moving in to his house with him. And I'm ok with that. As much as I love my apartment, I love Gibbs' house too. It's homey and cozy and smells like Gibbs, and I'm very comfortable there. It's my other happy place.

So one night I'm sleeping at home and my cell phone rings. We have a case. Of course, this is in the middle of February so it's as cold as a witch's…erm…it's really cold out. I'd been feeling a bit antsy for a few weeks since I'd just past the two year mark of being in DC. I felt tense, like I was holding my breath. It seemed that every two years or so the Universe thought it necessary to screw with Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo. Two years ago it was Danny. Two years before that was Robby. Two years before that was Chief. Two years before that I broke my leg…I think you get the idea. Anyway, so I'm all on edge, waiting on something to happen, waiting on the powers that be to give me some reason to have to pack up my life and move on again. Only I don't so much want to move on now…I'm happy here. So I was on edge when the call came in. It was one of those nights when Jethro and I were at our own houses. I figured he didn't answer the phone when dispatch called him—that was why they called me. So I tried calling Gibbs and he didn't answer for me either—which is weird. Knowing we had to have our boss in order to run the case, I headed for Gibbs' house.

When I got there, Gibbs was in his basement. It took me about five seconds to determine why he hadn't answered—if the pint sized jar filled with bourbon and a pickled cell phone were any indication.

"Hey Boss," I called. He was working on his boat (Yes he builds boats in his basement. Yes I help him. No I will NOT tell you how he gets them out. That's classified information.). I cringed at the cell phone again. He followed my gaze and smirked. "Telemarketers?" I asked weakly. I picked up the jar and eyed it like a specimen.

Gibbs snorted and picked up his planer. "Ex-wife," he muttered. "Calling to tell me what a worthless piece of shit I am," he picked up a beer bottle and held it up to the bourbon jar, clinking the glass together in a toast. "Happy Anniversary."

"Boss?" I asked, not entirely sure I was following what he was saying.

"She calls me every year on our anniversary to tell me how much I screwed up her life." He set the planer down on the workbench, and took the jar from my hand and set it beside the planer. Gibbs put one hand on my hip and smiled at me. We shared a sweet kiss, and for a moment, I'd almost forgotten why I'd come over in the first place (though kisses are ALWAYS a good reason to go to Gibbs' house).

"We got a case," I told him regretfully.

Gibbs' head thunked down hard on my shoulder. "Dammit," he muttered.

I kissed him again and smiled. "Lady was buried in Rock Creek Park. Turns out she wasn't dead, and she didn't stay buried." I smiled. It sounded like something out of a movie.

Gibbs sighed. "Alright. Let me change and we'll go. You're driving and I need coffee." He started up the stairs and I followed right behind him.

"On your six Boss," I said cheerfully. It was almost a joke between us—ever since Baltimore and the promises Gibbs had made to me there…it's a secret way of saying 'I love you' without having to be sappy and actually come out and say the words.

Turns out our victim, who was not-so-dead when she was buried, managed to dig herself out of the shallow grave she'd been thrown into. It also turns out that she was not quite as innocent as we all originally thought. AND she might have possibly been just a shade on the loco side.

If the bomb she dropped on the lab was any indication.

As I picked myself up off the street, two nights after the original call came in, I seriously considered the fact that my ears may well be damaged for life. I couldn't hear anything over the ringing. From the look on Gibbs' face he couldn't hear so much either. Gibbs was pretty pissed though—crazy woman nearly took out the whole team! I brushed the dust off of myself and tried not to curse the dead, but dammit I really liked that suit.

We were pretty lucky when it was all said and done and the medics had looked us over. Kate had taken a knock to the head, and was beating herself up pretty badly that she'd somehow missed this key piece to the case. How were we to have known that our victim was sleeping with her boss? He'd tried to have her killed when she insisted he leave his wife. He hadn't succeeded…instead, she'd decided that if she couldn't have him no one could. That was why she'd blown up the lab. I had a pretty good cut on my hand and my shoulder was dislocated. Medics put it in a sling and gave me some muscle relaxers and told me to see an ortho next week. I'd make the appointment eventually. Gibbs had a cut on his arm and he lost his hat, but other than that he was fine. Pissed about the hat, more pissed about the injuries the three of us had. Once we were cleared by the EMTs, Gibbs called the Director and told him what had happened. Director told us to go home and get some rest—we could come in tomorrow and write up our closing reports.

All in all, we were pretty lucky. And…judging by the state the remains of the building were in…it looked like our little bombmaker got what she wanted in the end too.

Gibbs told me I could go back to his house with him. After the events of the past couple of days though, and with how grouchy Gibbs had been throughout the entire case (no doubt due to the anniversary lingering in the background), I really just wanted some space. I wanted to crawl into my bed, sleep off the case, and not have to think about anything until tomorrow. I unlocked the apartment and shivered when I entered. Felt a bit chilly in there to me tonight. The building was drafty anyway though. I turned up the heat, thinking to knock off the chill, and crawled into bed. I nearly cried a few hours later when I woke up shivering in my apartment. I knew I'd turned up the heat, and I knew that it was late winter. That could only mean one thing, and I flopped down on the mattress and groaned, knowing what would happen next. The boiler must have gone out. Old Rusty finally let go, finally kicked the bucket, and now we were all going to freeze before morning as a result.

I rolled outta bed, thankful that I was wearing sweats at least, and pulled on some socks and shoes. I was moving a bit slower than normal thanks to my bum shoulder. I picked up my keys and my cell phone and headed for the basement. I was hopeful that the building superintendent would be there, but I wasn't betting the ranch on it. When I got to the basement, it took me some time to dig out the door to the Boiler Room. I made a mental note to talk to the superintendent (who was nowhere to be seen) about leaving the door to the Boiler Room unblocked, and started working on the door. Our Boiler Room was an old bomb shelter that was converted into a boiler room. It had thick steel walls and one of those old steel doors on it—kinda looked like something that would come off of an old battle ship—it even had a lock on it that resembled a ship's wheel—it was heavy and rusted and it was all I could do to unlock the damn thing. I finally got the door open and a waft of hot steam met me in the face when I swung the door open. Looks like I'd found the building's heat.

Pulling out my cell phone, I dialed up the building super. I knew it was like four in the morning, but I didn't honestly care. He took lousy care of the building and I'd do everything in my power to make sure he knew that I knew what he was doing.

"lo? Wha'thefuck? Who's this?" The super barked into the phone.

"Hi there Dale, this is Tony DiNozzo in 7C. Calling to let you know that the boiler is out. I'm looking at it now, and it's leaking all over everything here in the boiler room. Making a big mess."

"So mop it up, Smartass," Dale sneered in my ear. He and I weren't close.

"Ok," I agreed, feeling that familiar feeling of dread wash over me.

"Heh, Heh," Dale chuckled. "I'll be there in a minute."

"I'm concerned it might explode," I told him, already looking for a mop. "Need to turn the water off."

"Need to turn the water off," Dale mimicked me in my ear. "Just shut the hell up DiNozzo and quit yer whinin'. I'll get there and fix you right up."

He hung up in my ear, which was good, since I was unable to speak. I set about mopping and, true to his word, a few minutes later, Dale showed up. The boiler was stinking and smoking now, more hot steam was pouring out and condensing on the steel walls. There was water still being pumped into the boiler—and it was cold outside, which likely meant the water being pumped through the cold underground pipes was cold too. Cold water pumped into a hot boiler could NOT be a good thing. I was no expert on boilers, but I was smart enough to figure that much out.

"Well, well, well," Dale sneered. "What do we have here?"

I was still mopping silently, trying to clean the mess up as I'd been instructed to do. I looked up at him, my eyes pleading for help, and Dale's glare only hardened. "You ignoring me now?"

I shook my head, no. I was still not able to speak.

Dale walked over to the boiler, and began checking it out. He raised up with a slightly nervous look on his face. I moved over closer to where he was standing, hoping to see what he was seeing, but didn't really know what I was looking for. The water was gushing out over my feet now. The water was being heated to boiling, which was burning the hell out of my feet—and warming the floor to almost uncomfortable levels too. I was still using the mop, but it was no use. The water was too powerful and I was only one guy with a little mop trying to keep up.

"Suppose I shoulda turned off the water," Dale said snarkily. He looked at me and I nodded my head. "Maybe you're not such a dumbass after all, DiNozzo," he said incredulously.

The boiler was making more and more racket, and the steam was building and increasing, and the water levels in the boiler room were rising.

"Best thing to do is seal this room until I can get a repairman out here," Dale decided. He started towards the door. I was still mopping, but was moving towards the door behind him.

"You're a good little mop boy, DiNozzo," Dale told me. "You should stay down here and keep that mess from flooding the basement til the repairman gets here." He laughed and stepped out of the boiler room.

I looked at him in horror as my body started working even harder to keep up with the command. Dale glanced back over his shoulder in surprise that I wasn't following him out or making some snarky comment to him. Believe me—I had LOADS of snarky comments, I just couldn't get them to come out of my mouth. His eyes widened in surprise and knowing and I could feel my gut churning. I didn't like the look on Dale's face.

"Say…are you one of those guys who has to do what he's told? They did a news report about people like that the other night on Nightline," Dale said. "Even the smallest little command becomes the focus of your whole existence…is that what's going on here? Is that why you aren't talking?"

I looked down and kept mopping. Dale took a step forward and he had a really, very sinister grin on his face. "Answer me," he said.

"Yes," I blurted, unable to stop myself. "Yes I'm one of those people. What the hell are you thinking? You can't leave me in here like this I'll die—what if the boiler explodes?!"

Dale really wasn't a bad guy, but it's funny what people will do when they realize they have power over someone else. "I'm thinking I have a new mop boy." I took a step towards the door, every bone in my body trying to get ahead of the order I knew was coming. "Why don't you just step on back inside there," Dale said. "And keep mopping like I told you until the repairman gets here. I'll even make it easier for you," he said and now his grin was purely evil. "I'll even close the door for you."

I knew with my dislocated shoulder and with the drugs I'd been given that I wouldn't hold up well in this steam and heat for long. It wouldn't take me long to get completely dehydrated. "Hurry," I begged, my body already mopping again. Dale looked at me and sneered in disgust. "People like you are freaks," he said. "You shut up and don't make a sound. No yelling, no banging. Not a sound. Last thing I need is to get in trouble because of you."

My eyes widened as the door slammed, and over the racket of the boiler, I just barely made out some very disturbing, very frightening sounds. Dale locking the door. Dale piling all the stuff back in front of the door. A moment later the light went out—the switch was located on the wall outside the boiler room.

I was trapped. And boy was it dark.

xxx

It didn't take me long to figure out that I was pretty much completely screwed. Remember how I told ya that the boiler room was an old bomb shelter? Reinforced steel walls surrounded by concrete meant I had no cell phone signal. I couldn't stop mopping because that jackass Dale told me I had to keep at it (even though the water was inches deep in the floor now—covering my shoes in hot water). My shoulder was beginning to ache because the muscle relaxers were wearing off and I was doing exactly what the doctor had told me NOT to do with the shoulder, and that was USE it. I had no idea if Dale was going to actually call for a repairman, or if he was going to leave me here to die. I didn't know if the room was airtight or not—which immediately makes it feel airtight, and without any light I couldn't keep an eye on the boiler to make sure it wasn't about to explode on me.

I didn't have a watch, but I was able to keep track of time on my cell phone. I was frantically pacing around the boiler room waving my phone around like mad trying to find a signal. No luck. There was no signal to be had.

My head was pounding and I wondered if it was from the heat in the room, the dehydration from the heat in the room, the explosion earlier that bounced me into the street, or exhaustion. I was so tired. God I could barely hold my head up. My shoulder was burning with an intensity that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room, and I figured I was doing permanent damage to it. Or at the very least I'd require surgery to fix it.

The clock rolled past 8am. Then 9am. Around 10am I finally sat down in a heap in the hot water, unable to go any farther. My arms still tried to mop but I was just too tired. I couldn't do it anymore. The hot water washed over me and I knew that I'd likely die here. I wasn't optimistic that a repairman would show up. I wondered if the other residents in the building would notice that the boiler was out. It was cold enough outside that they likely would, but most of the older people had space heaters, so maybe it would take some time.

Time I didn't have.

I wanted to find a way out of there—needed to find a way out of there—but my body refused to cooperate. I was in yet another deadly situation thanks to my stupid body, and this time I didn't see how I'd ever get out of it. I glanced at the phone again as I struggled to my feet. I leaned heavily against the wall, but it was hot to the touch, thanks to the flooding boiler. The steam pressure was getting higher and I felt a bit like I was in a pressure cooker. I knew that with the room having nowhere to vent to, and with no release for the steam eventually the pressure would begin to do physical damage to me and that would only complicate my situation—that was assuming the boiler didn't explode before that.

I felt sluggish, like I was dehydrated, and I couldn't help but laugh at my predicament. I could see the headlines now: "Man Dies From Heat Exhaustion, Dehydration In Boiler Room Flood On Coldest Day of the Year."

Some days my life just really sucks.

I kept trying to send out text messages only to get 'Out Of Service' notifications after each attempt. Talk about frustrating. I couldn't scream, I couldn't beat on the walls, I couldn't do anything but lay on the floor and hope to either drown or suffocate before the boiler exploded. I'd nearly given up and was beginning to lose consciousness when I heard something. Something faint—so faint I almost convinced myself that I imagined it. But I refused to let my hope die and fought to keep my eyes open. The noise from the boiler was getting louder and my ears were aching terribly—the noise coupled with the boom of the explosion last night was wreaking havoc on my hearing.

My lips felt dry and chapped, even though I repeatedly scooped up water and ran over them. I didn't know if the water was clean, so I didn't drink it, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to put some on my lips. I was soaking wet anyway—if the water was toxic I was screwed. I fleetingly wondered if I would glow in the dark if I survived this, and tried to focus on the noise that seemed to be continuing. I lifted my hand out of the water only a second too late to realize that I'd dunked my phone down in the water when my hand last dropped. The screen on my phone was now black and the phone was useless. The noise seemed to be getting louder and steadier, though I still hadn't identified what it was. It wasn't the boiler though—the noise that I hoped I was hearing was coming from outside the boiler room.

I took a deep breath and tried to push myself up to lean against the wall, but I just didn't have the energy.

I heard a loud creaking noise then, and I wanted to open my eyes to see if the boiler was going to explode, but I just didn't have the energy. I was too exhausted and my eyelids felt like I had weights on them. I couldn't have moved or opened my eyes if my life had depended on it—which it did. Realizing that this was, in fact, how I would go out, I let out a soft sigh. The creaking noise was suddenly ear splitting and then it stopped. A wave of cold washed over me and I shivered uncontrollably, noticing that the water was receding. I tried to force my eyes open, but couldn't. I was exhausted.

The last thing I heard before everything drifted away was the sound of Gibbs' frantic voice echoing in my ears.

xxx

I could hear a weird beeping noise. It was niggling at my consciousness and really becoming quite annoyed. I was comfortable and warm and didn't want to come out of the gentle, relaxing blackness that I'd been in. I didn't know how long I'd been out, didn't know where I was, didn't know what had happened. I slowly inhaled through my nose and the smell of coffee reassured me to the fact that I was not alone.

"…'th me Tony? Can you hear me?"

I think I groaned. I'm not sure. The blackness crept back in and I slept again.

xxx

The next time awareness came back, the beeping was gone. Cold hands were touching me, poking me, moving me around. I felt like shit. I hurt all over. What the hell had happened? An instant after this thought drifted through my brain, memories of what happened slammed back into me with such force that my eyes popped right open.

"Hey, hey easy," Gibbs was standing right over me. There was a woman on my other side, someone I didn't recognize. I tried to move my arm, but it was restrained—I quickly realized it was in a sling. My head was splitting—had I hit it on something?—and I was dreadfully thirsty.

"Christ you scared me," Gibbs whispered, relief bleeding through his tone. "Are you thirsty?"

I nodded my head carefully, scared to move it too much.

Gibbs looked at the woman. "Can I give him some water?" he asked. His voice was soft—softer than normal, and he looked scared. Well. As scared as Gibbs ever looks.

The nurse nodded and Gibbs reached over and picked up a cup with water in it and a straw from the rollaway table. "Here we go," Gibbs said lightly, forcing a gentle smile to his face. "Small sips ok? Don't want you to get sick again."

Again? I took a sip of water and my throat felt strangely raw—the way it gets after I throw up. When had I thrown up? How long had I been asleep?

The nurse said she'd be back to check on me in a while and to let her know if I needed anything. Gibbs thanked her and she left. Then he turned to look at me. "You scared me," he said again, his tone a bit harder this time.

I realized that Dale's orders to not speak were still in effect. I schooled my features into the best expression of "sorry" that I could manage.

"What the hell happened? How did you get locked in the boiler room?"

I felt sick, recalling how I'd tried to be helpful when I figured out the boiler was flooding. I remembered the crazy look in Dale's eyes when he'd realized the power he had over me. I shuddered at the memory of being left in the dark sub-basement to die. He'd left me…the irony of the case we'd just worked—with the woman who was buried alive—I was buried alive in the sub-basement of my own apartment building…I swallowed hard and Gibbs shook my good shoulder.

"Hey you with me? You ok? Talk to me," he said, and I immediately felt the effect of the contradicting orders. I must have gotten a sick look on my face, because Gibbs caught on quickly. "Were you given orders to not talk?" I nodded. He sighed. "You can talk any time you want or need to," he told me patiently, and ran a hand through my hair. "You're released from your earlier commands." I sighed then, relief washing over me.

"Sorry," I whispered. "Didn't…didn't meant to."

"Well, knowing you were told not to speak makes a lot more sense than anything else I've been told today," Gibbs grumbled. He looked away, and I reached out and touched his hand. He looked at me sadly. "Your building superintendent…he said he didn't know how anyone could have gotten locked in there," Gibbs told me. "But you and he had a confrontation, didn't you?" I nodded. "And he probably told you to shut up, didn't he?" I nodded again, suddenly tired. I remembered this feeling from once before…in Baltimore, I'd felt this way after being told not to jump off the bridge by Gibbs. It seemed I was always being given contradicting orders.

"Told me…couldn't talk…couldn't bang…couldn't leave…locked me in…" I looked sadly at him. "I was trying to help him," I whispered.

"Well he's going to get some help, alright," Gibbs muttered, his tone murderous. "I'm going to help him right into a prison cell for attempted murder."

"Gibbs," dammit I sounded so…weak. "Gibbs don't," I pleaded. "They'll just drag me through the mud, and the press will be involved, and I'll never be able to work safely as an agent ever again," I said, my voice fading down to a whisper by the time I finished.

He knew I was right. It pissed him off, but he knew I was right. "Let me do some digging," Gibbs said. "I'll find something, don't worry. And then I'll get Fornell to make it stick. I'll even let him have all the credit for it, so that it doesn't look like we're involved."

I nodded. I could live with that. Gibbs leaned over and kissed me softly. "I was so scared," he told me again. I knew it must have really made an impression on him. You didn't show up for work…and then you didn't answer your phone…and then I went to your place and your car was there and your door was locked, and I couldn't figure out where you were. But I knew…could feel it in my gut…that something wasn't right."

"How'd you find me?" I blinked hard, trying to stay awake.

"I got IT to trace your cell phone. They've got this new kid working down there…smart guy…name's Tim McGee. He was able to trace your phone. I knew you were in the building somewhere. So I found your building super. Told him who I was and who I was looking for. He looked kinda uncomfortable, so I…erm…convinced him to show me where you were. I threatened to go through every door and every apartment in the building," he added sheepishly.

I smiled, knowing that he wasn't lying. "My hero," I whispered.

"Your hero who took hours to find you," Gibbs muttered. "How long had you been in there?"

"What time did you find me?"

"Nearly eleven."

"Mmmh…since…bout four."

"You were in there seven hours?"

I shrugged, then winced. I didn't know. Didn't care. I wasn't in there now and my shoulder was hurting. "Thought…thought I was gonna die there," I whispered. "Kinda…'ronic…I mean…think of the last case we had…buried alive… I nearly was too…I nearly drowned in a basement…nearly burned up on the coldest day of the year," I giggled and it broke off in a chuckle. Christ I felt like shit.

"Only you," Gibbs said affectionately. "You were sprawled out on the floor…your eyes were fluttering, but you wouldn't wake up…thought I was too late."

I shook my head and closed my eyes. "Not too late," I murmured. I squeezed his hand—to reassure him as much as to reassure me. "'s wrong with me? Feel…like crap," I whispered.

"Heat exhaustion," Gibbs said. "You were in there for hours, and the temperature had risen to well over 100 degrees…you're pretty dehydrated too, so they're giving you lots of fluids. Not sure what happened to your shoulder yet, but it's looking like you've somehow strained it where it was dislocated earlier."

"Told me…hadda keep mopping the mess," I said. "Hurt…hurt so bad…couldn't stop…tried to text you…couldn't…out of service…"

"You were in a reinforced steel box," Gibbs said. "Damn wonder that McGee kid could trace you."

"Mmmm," I hummed my assent.

I smiled slightly when I felt Gibbs' lips on my forehead and then on my lips. "Get some sleep," he told me, and I felt the wave of the order wash over me. With a quiet sigh I drifted away. "We'll talk more when you wake up," was the last thing I heard.

xxx

I crossed my arms and set my jaw. I'll admit it. I was pissed. I'd been released from the hospital the day before—after spending two and a half days there—not my fault I spiked a damn fever. Anyway, once I got out of the hospital, I begged to return to my apartment, but Gibbs refused. He didn't order me to go to his home with him (he knows better than to do that—he knows I'd leave and not look back), but he didn't drive me to my apartment, instead he stubbornly pointed the car in the direction of Alexandria and headed for his own house.

And really, he went out of his way to make sure I was comfortable and that I had everything I needed. I was still kinda sick, and really exhausted, and didn't have any energy, and I'm not entirely sure how I would have made it up the flight of stairs at my apartment…but dammit I wanted to go home.

"Gibbs—dammit JETHRO!" I hollered when he walked away. He brought me here, not where I asked to be taken, disrespected my wishes, and ignored my requests and he brought me to HIS HOME and then he fuckin' walks away and leaves me sitting here—"JETHRO DAMMIT GET YOUR ASS BACK IN HERE AND FUCKING TALK TO ME!" I yelled. Oh boy I was mad. I was pushing myself up off the couch—his really comfortable couch (dammit)—when Gibbs stalked back to the doorway and leaned against it. He crossed his arms, poker face firmly set on his features, and he didn't say a word.

"You can take me home or I can call a cab," I said. "I want to go HOME. This?" I looked around. "This is not my home Jethro! I don't live here! I want to be able to watch tv and sleep in my bed and lay on my couch and take a shower and—"

"And be murdered by your building superintendent who's on some crazy power trip because you can be controlled so easily?"

Oh I didn't like the way he said that. My anger quadrupled. "FUCK YOU!" I shouted. Part of me thought I was overreacting, but I HATE feeling powerless. "If you think I'm so easy to control—if you think I'm such a fucking threat because I'm so easily persuaded—why the HELL did you hire me in the first place? Can't say you didn't know because sure as hell you knew—you're the one who kept me from jumping off the fucking bridge in Baltimore—but then again maybe we'd all be better off if you'd gotten stuck at the red light that day," I snapped angrily. How dare he say that to me?!

Gibbs was right in my face in under two seconds—and so close in my space that I let out a startled "eep!" in response to it. "I never said you were a threat," his voice was dangerously low. I braced myself for the shitstorm that was about to hit. "I never said you were easy to control. I never. said. you were easily persuaded. YOU said those things. Not me. So whatever it is you're internalizing about yourself, don't push that shit off on me," he growled. "And I can't even believe you'd say such a thing about the bridge incident." An incident—that's what he calls it. I snorted. "I saved you because I saw everything that is GOOD in you. And you've not proven me wrong—not in two years! You're the best agent I've ever worked with—the smartest, the best detective, the quirkiest, the funniest—you keep things light, but you know when to be serious—you do your job and carried the load of three agents when it was just you and me. So don't start this shit about how I'd be better off if I'd let you jump. You're the best thing that's happened to me since—"

And then he stopped. His face actually drained of color and he took a step back. "I need coffee," he muttered.

He started to turn and I grabbed his arm. "Oh no," I snarled, still angry. "You're not walking away from me til we finish this."

Gibbs stopped and turned. He looked at me, cool as a cucumber. "Finish it," was all he said.

There was no fight in him. The anger was gone, and I couldn't figure out what it had been replaced with, but it was…weariness? Something?

"What do you want from me?" I asked, shrugging my one good arm.

"I want you to be safe. I want you to not be a bonehead. I want you to be happy." I blinked, surprised. Ok this is NOT what I expected. Gibbs took a step closer to me. "What do YOU want?" he asked.

I swallowed hard. "I want to go home," I said in a small voice. "I don't like…I don't like feeling like I have no power. I get controlled by people without them even realizing it happens…it's exhausting…and sometimes…sometimes I just want to make a request of someone, and I want them to respect it. Even if it isn't the best choice." I shrugged again. I was exhausted, but I refused to sit down. I would not appear weak in front of him. I wouldn't do it.

Gibbs noticed though. "Can we sit down and discuss this?" he asked, gesturing the couch with his head. He was being careful not to say anything that my body would mistake as an order. I sank down on the cushions and stared at my lap, waiting to hear what he had to say. "I would like to give you some more information," Gibbs said after a long pause. "Something I haven't mentioned to you."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Do you remember when you were in the hospital, and I told you that I was going to do some digging on the superintendent at your apartment building?"

"Yes," I said softly. I looked up at him. "What'd you find?"

"I didn't find anything. I have a source who found something…it's been turned over to the FBI and a warrant has been issued for Dale's arrest. They're going to your apartment building…right about now…to pick him up and take him in."

Realization dawned and I felt like I'd been kicked in the gut. "Why didn't you just tell me?" I asked.

"Plausible deniability," Gibbs said. "Same reason I'm not telling you what the charges are."

"That's why you were so insistent that I come here," I said.

"Yes," Gibbs said.

"You didn't have to be such a bastard about it," I retorted.

"Second B for bastard," Gibbs said by way of explanation.

"I think I hate you a little bit," I grumbled.

Gibbs wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close, being mindful of my wounded shoulder. "I think I love you a lot," he whispered in my ear, before nibbling on my earlobe.

I pulled away. "Ohhhh no Mister, you're still in the doghouse," I said.

Gibbs leaned over and kissed me again. "I just can't help myself," he said after I'd kissed him back. Then he sat up and looked at me seriously. "I don't apologize for much Tony, but I will apologize for making you feel like you were powerless. That was never my intention. My intention was, and always will be, to keep you safe."

I nodded. "I get that," I said. "I just wish…just…next time don't ignore me—tell me a half truth if you have to, but don't just ignore me. Can you do that?"

"I can do that. Can you try to trust me a little bit? I'm not like those other people Tony. I won't ever hurt you."

I laid my head on his shoulder. I was still mad, but at least now I understood the situation. "I'll try," I grumbled. I looked up at him. "Forgive me if it takes some practice? I'm new at this whole, having people in my world I can trust thing."

"I understand that," Gibbs said with a patient smile. I wondered how I'd gotten so lucky. I figured I'd have been told to shut up or jump off a bridge again or something, but Gibbs was trying to make this work, it seemed.

"You know," I said with a snarky grin. "For a guy who's been divorced so many times, you sure are working your ass off to make sure I don't leave you."

Gibbs blinked, a surprised look coming over him as though he never considered that I'd ever consider leaving him. "Um…is it working?" he asked nervously.

"It is," I agreed firmly. Gibbs smiled and kissed me.

"I'm not happy," I grumbled.

Gibbs nodded. "I get that."

"And you screwed the pooch when you ignored me. Made me feel like shit."

"I understand that too. I'm sorry Tony."

"Thanks. So back to my original question, only now slightly altered. When can I go home?"

Gibbs—my best friend, my best lover, my best partner—rolled his eyes at me. "How bout we have Cowboy steak and a good night's sleep here tonight. It'll give Fornell time to get the mess at your place all cleaned up. I'll take you home tomorrow morning, first thing. What do ya say?"

I smiled. "Will you stay with me?"

"I'll stay," Gibbs nodded. "I'll stay right beside you tonight, and I'll stay with you tomorrow if you like. As long as you want me," he promised.

I nodded. "I like that," I agreed. I yawned deeply. "Damn this heat exhaustion…Gonna be the death of me," I muttered. "You'd think I had the plague or something."

Gibbs smiled and helped me ease down on the couch and covered me with the afghan that hung over the back—quite possibly the softest blanket I'd ever encountered. I was still trying to get out of Gibbs who made it. "Wanna take a nap?" he asked me. "Got some time before dinner." I yawned and nodded.

Just as I was dozing off a head slap rocked my head forward slightly and I cracked one eye open. "Oh and Tony," Gibbs said snarkily. "As unlucky as you are, I'd never even joke about having the plague if I were you."

I think I was still giggling when I fell asleep.

TBC…