AN: Thank you again, the kind people who sent messages but weren't logged in, and one shy person who always messages (she knows who she is,) all the alerts and favourites...the encouragement is so much appreciated. Logged in people, heck, thanks again!

I've tried to get into Gibbs' head a bit, although we won't get Tony's take on it until next chapter. See what you think.

Weekends With Doris

Chapter 6

Gibbs wasn't even sure what he was doing crouched here on the side of the hill, looking down at the stables... he hadn't been sure where he was going as he'd hurried away from the bull pen last night towards the front entrance; he just couldn't stay where he was. Something was wrong; he'd made a huge error of judgement, going by the story McGee had told, and the way the junior was standing up to him. Except it wasn't a story, was it... and his own part in it covered him in a lot less than glory.

Waking up in the hospital as the man he'd been then, the grief fresh, and raw, and devastating, his girls, his two wonderful girls gone for ever... trying to reconcile all that with someone he apparently was now, and didn't remember, he hadn't wanted that, why should he? He knew they all blamed him for fleeing from a situation that overwhelmed him... But the thing about the flight to Mexico was – he'd come back. He'd rejoined the present, in response to a plea from a girl he discovered he owed... and you can't both rejoin and reject the present at the same time, Jethro. He winced – that last thought arrived with Ducky's accent. He was here, and it was time he accepted that –

"Special Agent Gibbs!" A voice called to him from the front desk, relief and recognition in its tone. Simon Townley handed the visitor's badge back to the guard. "It's OK... I can talk to him here, thanks..."

"Townley – how's your son? He OK?"

"No, Agent Gibbs, he's not -"

"I thought they said he wasn't hurt!"

"He's not. Physically he's fine, but he's worried about Tony, and we can't find anything out. He wasn't taken to any of the local hospitals; Amos Frame said he'd call me but he hasn't..."

"You've checked? The hospitals?"

"I had to. Adam saw the blood on the serape, and he's afraid Tony's dead because no-one seems to know. I've left a kind neighbour sitting with him, but he won't go to bed, and he's supposed to go back to school tomorrow... I thought Tony must have come back to DC with you. Is he here?"

Gibbs didn't know how to answer that. "No... no he's not. He stayed behind – seemed to want to." His phone buzzed. He listened for a moment. "OK, go home. Get some rest." He disconnected. "He was treated by the EMTs at the scene for cuts and bruises, but refused to go to hospital. Didn't say where he was going. But he's not dead, Mr. Townley."

Simon thought for a moment. "The day we first met him he said he used to work for a marine. Was that you?"

"Yeah..."

"And now he's working for you again."

"Yeah."

"I thought a Marine never leaves a man behind."

Gibbs was in too much of a turmoil to be offended. "Couldn't bring him back if he didn't want to come," he said mildly.

"Did you find him? You were going to your car last I saw."

The slight belligerence in the young Marine's tone peeved Gibbs just a bit. "Mr Townley, you seem to be taking an almighty lot of interest in my agent."

"Well, yeah..."

A few moments later he'd known the whole story of the Townleys' first meeting with DiNozzo, and the details of the rescue as Adam had told them to his father. Gibbs winced. He hadn't given DiNozzo a chance to tell him, not that he supposed he would have done. Never took anything seriously, never one to seek praise when he'd done good. So he must have done good sometimes for me to remember...

It also seemed clear that the local man – Amos Frame, did he say? – who he'd casually given the job of assigning search parties, the job he wouldn't even trust to his own agent – knew more than he'd been prepared to say. Seemed like DiNozzo was putting his trust in strangers these days... hell... seemed like strangers thought more of his SFA than he did.

"Tell Adam it was just cuts and bruises, like the paramedics said; and I'll be in touch," he'd told the young father. "I'll find him." He'd hurried off, leaving Simon Townley thinking "WTF?"

Gibbs had thoroughly abused the big agency car, of course, retracing the journey he'd completed not an hour earlier in the opposite direction; even so it had been late when he reached Duet again. His thoughts during the drive had ranged from anger, through bewilderment and guilt, tagged on to a bit of fear, and back to anger again.

What was he angry about? What wasn't he. DiNozzo for not trusting him and going missing. Unreasonable... and he wasn't going to list the reasons why, because that led to the guilt. Still anger... at DiNozzo for disregarding instructions and getting hurt. Poor instruction though, given out of spite... back to the guilt. What the hell had the guy done to inspire it? The spite? He'd felt anger... watching DiNozzo strutting around ordering his team about. His team! Ack, come on, Jethro, what did you expect?

More anger … fury at the holes in his memory – worse than Mike Franks' roof – and the difficulty of patching them... Not unreasonable, but pointless – it was done. Anger at himself for hurting the man who'd always stood by him... he had, hadn't he? Guilt again. Anger... bitter, bitter rage at his beloved girls for leaving him. Anger at fate for plunging him back into that terrible time. At himself and everyone else, especially the smiling DiNozzo, for staying when they were gone.

Bewilderment that he hadn't seen all this shook him... and so did fear of where it was going to take him. So you've suddenly decided you want to keep the guy... more fool you if you're too late.

His first intention had been to find the Frames' place and ask Amos what he knew. Two things held him back; first off, it was late and the ageing couple, who were probably regularly up with the dawn attending to their animals, wouldn't appreciate a late night visitor. And then, of course, if Tony had told them he didn't want to see his boss, and they wouldn't tell him anything... he wasn't the sort of character to take humiliation lightly. No, if DiNozzo wasn't coming back, he needed to hear it from him; besides, he thought ruefully, the kid deserved the opportunity to tell him where to go.

Hiding the sedan in thick brush, he approached the trail-riding centre on foot, keeping to the shadows whenever the moon came out. If his SFA wasn't here, he'd have to rethink... but this was the place where Tim had implied his colleague was happy. He came to chill... needed to chill...

From a pool of darkness beyond the paddock fence, Gibbs watched as Amos Frame carried a Mexican saddle from the tack room across to the kitchen door of the house; his heart slalomed as his sniper's long-sight noticed the burst of tiny silver stars on the side of the saddle-horn, and then the dark stain on the strapping. That was the saddle he'd seen on DiNozzo's horse. He'd noticed that, but not the state of his agent... Amos had left the door open, so Gibbs knew he'd be back, and waited.

He could see motion sensors on some of the boxes, but since Frame was moving around he thought the rustler alarm wasn't yet set for the night. He worked his way round the back of the rank of boxes, intending to dash across the space between it and the other rank that faced it, to get across to the house. He was hoping that the alarm hadn't been turned on there yet, and that a look through a lighted window might show him where his agent was.

He was just about to make the dash for the next pool of cover, when Amos came from the kitchen again. Gibbs shrank back into his patch of darkness, and heard the tack room door being closed. He held absolutely still as the man came round to the back of the building, where there was another door, closed and darkened. He went in without switching a light on, leaving the door ajar, and Gibbs heard the unmistakeable sound of feet climbing a bare wooden stair.

He noticed that this door had no motion sensor anywhere near, although it was directly behind the tack room. There was a window with frosted glass next to it, and Gibbs deduced shower or toilet. It was logical that you wouldn't alarm a doorway that people might have to use at any hour of the day or night depending on what was going on in the yard. There was a skylight let into the roof, and as his eyes fell on it Gibbs' stomach lurched. There was nothing but his gut to tell him him so, but he'd found DiNozzo.

The light didn't go on upstairs, and after a short while, Gibbs heard the footsteps coming down again.

Amos sighed with relief as he came down from the loft. The patient was curled up on his right side, the blankets neat... he clearly hadn't moved, and he hadn't reacted to someone coming into the room; so hopefully he was getting the sort of deep sleep he needed. He'd leave him now until morning.

As he stepped out of the door, Sally came round the corner of the building. Her hair, greying now but still with chestnut highlights, was loose around her shoulders, instead of in the plait she used to keep it out of the way on a working day. He caught a glimpse of the pretty, feisty champion rodeo rider she'd been when he fell for her, and smiled fondly. She misunderstood.

"I guess he's all right then?"

"No need to whisper, Sass, he's dead to the world. Whatever Steven put in that painkiller, it worked. We'll see how he is in the morning, but I'm inclined to let him sleep all day if that's what he needs. Come on, let's turn in."

"You going to leave that saddle in the kitchen all night?"

"Thought it was beyond cleaning, but it'll be fine. Just needs a new latigo – most of the blood was on Tony's clothes."

"You're telling me that? I've washed everything... going to have to patch that shirt..." Their voices faded as they went back towards the house.

In Iraq, the local kids had called Gibbs Khayal... ghost... he could enter a room where a whole family slept, check for hidden weapons, and leave again without anyone knowing he'd ever been there. One agent on a heavy painkiller dose - no problem... and yet his heart was in his mouth as he went silently up the stairs. For all his bravado about giving DiNozzo a shot at him, he really didn't want to talk to him yet... he hadn't a clue what to say. Sorry? Sorry I was riled because you were dong my job ? Doing it well, for all the strutting? Sorry I took it out on you because they're gone?He didn't damn do sorry.

He stopped at the top of the stairs, and forced himself to take stock of the tiny room, in order to leave it exactly as he found it, before looking at the figure curled up on the cot. In the Corps he'd been able to lay a hand on a sick marine's forehead without disturbing him; and a light touch told him his agent wasn't fevered. He listened to the steady breathing, wondered why that was important, and nearly lost it as he seriously recalled the y pestis.

Of course he'd remembered about it in an abstract way, but now he heard that breathing in his mind.

Oh God, Tony...

He calmed down with an effort. This had been such a stupid idea. He turned to throw himself silently back towards the staircase,and stopped himself with an effort. Chicken now too? He lifted a folded sweat top from the single chair in the room, checking exactly how it lay before moving it, and sat down quietly.

He had no idea how much time passed while he sat, not really thinking anything, or deliberately reaching for memories, as he watched Tony sleep. Mostly he reran things he'd already recalled, but some of the things that came into his mind he was pretty certain he was remembering for the first time. Being chased down a back street in Baltimore by a kid whose mouth ran as fast as the rest of him... and then, 'ya don't waste good...' He nodded to himself. How near had he come?

The younger man stirred in his sleep, and Gibbs tensed, but he simply shifted his position and settled again. His Boss noted ruefully the amount of bandage that the shift exposed, and pulled the blanket up over his shoulders again.

He pressed the light button on his watch – soon be dawn. He'd go back to his car, nap until it was what other people thought was a civilised hour, phone Simon Townley. Let Tim and Ziva know Tony was OK, then what? Give him more space? Turn up casually here to see if he was ready to return, and did he want a lift? He didn't like indecisive, didn't do it, but he'd have to wait on all that for a while. He left almost as unnoticed as he'd arrived. Doris flicked her ears and huffed as she dozed, as something crossed her equine dreams, but nothing stirred in the yard.

NCISNCISNCIS

Tony sat on the edge of his bed, arms on his knees, hands dangling. He wasn't imagining it. What the f...reaking hell was going on? Gibbs had been here. Why wasn't he here now? Why come while he was asleep... Did he just want to check the days events hadn't killed him? Was still alive to fire?

He knew that was foolish and borderline hysterical, and pushed it aside. A guy who'd brought himself up learned self-control early, and he could do it when he needed. But stopping the next thought took more doing. He came... does it mean he cares? How dangerous is it to let yourself get carried away on that one, Anthony? He breathed deeply. If he cared, why did he go again?

He realised there were any number of reasons... Gibbs might be as uneasy about talking to him as he was about talking to Gibbs. It was going to have to happen... he went carefully down to the tiny shower room, and looked longingly at it, but settled for a wash. No shave – he'd stay stubbly for now. He grinned – hung over the towel rail were his cords and shirt, washed and dried, the shirt also neatly patched. Bless Sally – apart from the sweats he hadn't brought a change of clothes... he hooted when he found his boxers there as well.

Amos said from the doorway, "Your jacket's beyond repair... but we've plenty of serapes... you need a hand dressing?"

"I'll pass."

"You won't pass on breakfast, though?"

Clearly, Amos didn't know about Gibbs... Tony decided not to mention it in case the older man went for the shotgun he kept for rustlers. "Bring it on – I'm hungry. And sore. But not too bad..."

"So put your damn sling on."

Gibbs pointed the agency car towards the highway. He'd called everyone in DC; he'd phone later, and come back tomorrow... it wouldn't be fair just to turn up out of the blue... 'Chicken,' Shannon's voice told him severely, so he turned the car round. He wasn't ready for this... his gut wasn't reassuring him Tony was either. He returned the car to its hidden parking spot, and began to walk back, then turned again to retrieve a set of binoculars from the trunk. He had no idea why he was going about things in this way; he told himself that a Marine would gather intelligence before going into a situation, but he still felt a little crazy as he hunkered down in the long grass.

Tony said 'Good Morning' to Doris before going over to the house for Sally's home-made bread, toasted to perfection and dolloped with her own marmalade. She was just wrapping some bread and treacle in foil. Tony looked at it in astonishment. "I thought you'd tell me I couldn't ride today."

Sally was severe. "And you'd go right ahead anyway. We trust Doris." Tony put his good arm round her, and kissed the top of her head.

"Hey," Amos said. "Get your own!"

Little as he liked the idea, Tony had to accept Sally's help in saddling Doris, and then his embarrassment was complete as she insisted on his using the mounting block. The fact that she was right didn't help. But a gentle ride with Doris was just what he needed, and he was smiling as they headed towards the back gate that led to the trails. As they passed through it, he stiffened. "Whoa, girl," he said softly, and she did, instantly. Her rider looked out towards a low, grass covered slope maybe three hundred yards away. He didn't see it again, but he knew what it was, and who it was... and having known Gibbs as long as he had, he knew why it was too. This was going to be up to him... or down to him... semantics, Anthony.

He stared hard at the spot that he'd seen the flash of reflection coming from, and nodded slowly. Turning Doris back into the yard, he said "Guys, I need another horse."

Sally said "Is Doris OK?" in alarm.

"She's fine, Sal. I mean, another horse as well. Please."

Amos came out of a box. "Gibbs?" he asked. He was leading a showy copper chestnut he'd been saddling up ready for exercise. "Take Jezebel," he said at once, handing up her reins. "She's not been worked for three days, she's full of herself. I hope she dumps him on his ass."

The other mare had a blonde mane and a wide blaze, and really did look like Champion the Wonder Horse – if slightly overweight – but, Tony insisted, she wasn't that smart. Not as smart as his Doris. They set off again, with Jez bouncing alongside, and before they were half-way to the foot of the hill, Tony had spotted Gibbs walking down towards them. He stopped alongside him, with a cheerful smile.

"Fancy a trail-ride, Boss?"

"Sure... why not."

Tony handed Jezebel's reins over, and waited while Gibbs climbed aboard. He knew the Marine was a good rider, but he still looked pointedly at the latigo just in case the Boss had forgotten. Despite Amos's sentiments, Tony didn't think it was a good idea to inflict the old sideways saddle trick on him. Gibbs caught on and tightened the cinch.

They set off up the trail, Doris in the lead, and Tony was quite aware that two pairs of eyes watched them out of sight.

Gibbs kept looking as if he wanted to say something, but he was having to hold back an over eager Jezebel which made it difficult. In the end Tony took pity on him. As they came to Doris's favourite stretch of running trail, he drew her back. "After you, Boss..." The copper coloured horse leapt forwards, and the darker one followed, at a slightly more sedate pace. She was taking good care of her human.

After a long gallop, Gibbs slowed down, and waited under the shadow of the fragrant pines until Tony caught up. "You all right, DiNozzo?"

"Not up for a full gallop just now, but yeah, I'm fine." He looked the Boss straight in the eyes. "Slept really well last night... wouldn't have heard a thing."

"How did you know I was there?"

"Smelled bourbon and sawdust when I woke up. And bengay. Horse liniment works just as well, ya know, doesn't cost as much. Did you let me see the binoculars deliberately?"

"I... don't know. Look, Tony..."

"Boss," the younger man said calmly, "you don't have to talk right now. Can if you want... but this is a trail ride... right now, inhale, smell, listen, feel the sunshine, pat your horse, look around, catch the views... just ride."

AN: Had to get this up quick as VP2000's coming up tomorrow, for a Tonyful couple of days while her hubby does exciting racing car things down the road. Much talking, drooling, not much writing!