~October~

After going on two months, Tony still wasn't sure he'd done the right thing by taking the Portsmouth transfer. He'd rather be back in DC, in the thick of things but from a personal standpoint, he'd needed an escape. This was just a place to be until the desire to find something different came along. It wasn't a bad job really. Jenny had definitely shuffled him off to the back of beyond; her petty retaliatory move for the various things he'd done to piss her off…like breathing for one.

The Portsmouth Naval Yard on Maine's southern coast was home to a shipyard that overhauled, repaired, and retrofitted Navy submarines. He was the lead agent for the small NCIS office there and also had oversight of the NCIS field office at the submarine base in Groton, Connecticut. He spent a lot of time traveling back and forth. The job kept him unexpectedly busy, for which he was immensely grateful. As weeks passed, the knife-sharp pain of losing Jethro was slowly fading and his mask of carefully cultivated detachment was easier to maintain.

He compared it to his bad knee…his skin looked fine on the surface. Underneath, there was an ever-present dull ache that could unexpectedly flare to life; pulsing and throbbing with a fiery pain. Those moments, when he was alone in his rented room and had time to think, were the most dangerous. It was all he could do not to crawl into a bottle and stay there. He found it ironic; Jethro lost his memory and he wished he could lose his.

His partner shifted in the car seat next to him, pulling his attention back to the business at hand. Mark Baker was the sole agent in the Groton NCIS field office. He'd been running an investigation into a group of submariner sailors running an illicit drug ring. Baker had recently identified the two responsible for drug distribution on base and Tony wanted to back him up when the bust went down.

Today was the day and they were just waiting for their suspects to make an appearance. Tony, Mark, and the base MPs were waiting for the two suspects to leave the sub and they would apprehend them at the pier.

"That's them," Mark said, looking through binoculars. "They're coming across the gangway now."

"OK, alert the MPs," Tony directed.

"Roger."

Tony checked his weapon then kept watch while Mark used his earwig to alert the nearby MP's that the suspects were coming across to the dock.

"Dammit," Tony hissed. "The MP's moved too soon and spooked 'em. Let's go!"

Tony and Mark exited the car and took off running toward the gangway and their suspects. One made it off onto the dock and Tony shouted at the MPs. "Take that one! We'll take the sub!"

The other suspect panicked when he saw his escape blocked, foolishly retreating back across the gangway and through the hatch to re-board the sub.

As Tony and Mark followed, cautiously descending the ladder into the sub, a gunshot was heard.

"It's a submarine, jackass…where do you think you're going to go?" Mark mumbled irately.

"Right now, he's an armed jackass who's just cornered himself, so keep your head on a swivel."

"Got it," Mark nodded as he jumped off the ladder onto the deck behind Tony.

Tony peered carefully around the ladder and cursed. Their suspect wasn't as completely panicked as they'd first thought. He'd come back inside to grab a hostage.

He edged into the open, covering the suspect with his weapon and saw Mark in his peripheral vision doing the same.

"Stop! Don't come any closer!" the suspect screamed at them. He was backed up against the opposite bulkhead; arm around the neck of another crew member and holding a gun to his head.

"Petty Officer Jackson," Tony said calmly. "Why don't you let him go? Don't make this any worse than it already is."

"We're leaving…move aside or I'll shoot him! I will," he shouted, his eyes desperate as they flicked toward the ladder.

"Where are you going to go?" Tony asked reasonably. "The MPs are outside on the dock; we've got your partner and intercepted your drug shipment. It's over. No one has to get hurt now…let us help you."

The suspect slumped, loosening his grip on his hostage and that was when disaster struck. The loud bang of a hatch cover somewhere close by startled the suspect. He flinched hard and his gun discharged.

Tony heard the ping of a ricochet and almost simultaneously felt the bullet rip through the muscles in his left upper arm. He stumbled back against the bulkhead behind him, briefly lowering his weapon.

"Tony!" Mark shouted.

"I'm OK," he answered as he regained his balance. It didn't feel too bad yet; not with all the adrenaline coursing through his system. He ignored the pain and raised his weapon again, feeling the trickle of blood inside his jacket sleeve.

The suspect had tightened his grip on his hostage again and his eyes shifted wildly around the compartment, looking for a way out.

"I didn't mean it!" he yelled from behind his human shield.

Mark frowned as he noticed blood seeping steadily from Tony's jacket sleeve, falling in fat drops onto the deck. "Tony…" he said uneasily.

"It's fine," Tony told him, keeping his focus on the suspect. "Look Jackson, we know it was an accident, don't we, Mark?" he said, calm reassurance in his voice.

"Right, just an accident," Mark agreed, trying to ignore blood dripping from his partner's arm even more rapidly with every passing second. They needed to end this now.

"We know you didn't mean to hurt anyone…" Tony placated. "Just like you don't want to hurt your crew mate there."

Tony stiffened his arms against the tremors starting to develop. Come on, kid, he thought, drop it.

"That wasn't supposed to happen…you tell them I didn't mean it," Jackson insisted.

"We'll tell them," Mark assured him. "We just need you to drop the gun now."

Jackson relaxed his death grip on the crewman and dropped the gun in his hand, staring vacantly at the deck.

Mark quickly moved in while Tony covered them, kicking the weapon aside and cuffing the suspect. "Clear," he called, using the earwig to alert the MPs outside. "Move in."

"Oh good," Tony said. This was bad; the blood loss was starting to make him nauseous and shaky. Dark spots were creeping into the edges of his vision. He moved unsteadily backward and leaned against the bulkhead, leaving an ominous trail of blood drops on the deck.

Suddenly Mark was there easing him down to sit on the deck; carefully pulling off his jacket and grimacing at the blood-soaked sleeve. "Shit," he breathed when he got a look at Tony's blood-covered arm, still bleeding freely.

Tony flinched and hissed in pain as Mark clamped a hand over the wound and made eye contact with a nearby sailor. "Call an ambulance now, and get a corpsman in here," he ordered sharply.

Blood leaked steadily from between Mark's fingers and he pressed harder. He looked grim as Tony barely responded to the new application of pressure. "Looks like the bullet nicked an artery; that's some kind of luck you got, DiNozzo."

"Story of my life," Tony slurred. Then the dark spots coalesced and voices became more and more distant, until loss of consciousness rendered him oblivious to the commotion around him.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Gibbs watched Tony sleep; desperately wanting him to wake up but at the same time, afraid of what would happen when he did. Tony looked a little thinner than he remembered, and he was so pale. Gibbs hoped the pallor was due to the blood loss and not ill health. Neither diminished the joy he felt on seeing him again…and gratitude. Gibbs had no idea what sort of reception to expect once Tony woke, but he was warm and alive, and Gibbs was grateful for the chance to find out where they stood. He hoped Tony would want to come back home.

A lot had changed back in DC. With Jenny gone, Ziva had opted to stay in Israel and removed from her influence, McGee was getting his shit together. He was flourishing again working in the cyber division and hoped to join the new team Gibbs was recruiting. Jenny Shepard had been removed from her position and had made one hell of a mess on her way out the door. They were still dealing with the fallout and it had delayed him from contacting and trying to reconcile with Tony. He hoped that wouldn't be added to the list of things he'd given Tony to hold against him.

Now this…he could have lost him before Tony ever even knew he'd recovered his memories of them together. He remembered how panic welled up in him yesterday when the hospital called with news of Tony's injury. He'd been speaking with the new director in the bullpen when the call came and his reaction was so disconcerting to the man that Ducky had been called.

"Tony's been shot," he said numbly as he disconnected the call and turned to Ducky.

"Oh dear," Ducky breathed in dismay. "His condition?"

"Critical…he lost a lot of blood before they got him to the hospital."

"Who is Tony?" Director Vance asked.

"My partner, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo," Gibbs answered, not caring a bit how Vance would interpret that. If Tony took him back, the first thing that would change was their relationship being a secret. "I'm his medical proxy and next of kin. I need to go."

"Leave approved, Gibbs," Vance agreed with a curt nod. "I'd like to know a little more about your partner…at a more appropriate time, of course."

Gibbs managed a mumble of agreement as he turned to the door; his mind was whirling trying to figure out how fast he could get to Groton.

He'd turned back as Ducky called out, "Keep us informed, Jethro."

"I will, Duck," he said as he reached the door.

"Jethro," Ducky called once more.

"Yeah?"

Ducky gave him a long look, full of meaning. "Good luck."

"Thanks, Ducky," smiling at the show of support from his old friend.

Now he was sitting at DiNozzo's bedside, hoping he wouldn't get tossed out on his ass as soon as Tony opened his eyes. He couldn't help his compulsion to touch, to feel the throb of Tony's pulse under his fingers. He squeezed Tony's hand, frowning at the chilled skin. Moving his hand up, Gibbs wrapped his hand around Tony's wrist, pressing his fingers against the pulse point. He closed eyes burning with fatigue, and settled back in the chair to wait.

He must have drifted off. He jerked as the sound of Tony's voice snapped him out of his light doze.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Tony hated waking up in the hospital; hated the smells of antiseptic and sickness, the desert-dry air, and the fuzzy, drugged haze. He cracked his eyes open and stared in disbelief. This time, he wasn't sure if it were the drugs or blood loss responsible for the impossible vision in front of him.

He looked down to find the source of the warmth circling one wrist and saw Gibbs' hand there. "Gibbs?" he whispered.

Gibbs' eyes flew open. Profound relief and happiness welled up in his chest. "God Tony, I'm so glad you're awake," he exclaimed as he leaned over and pressed the button to alert the nurse's station.

"Am I dreaming?" he asked in a raspy voice.

"Nope."

Tony frowned in confusion; he had no idea how to respond to Gibbs' unexpected appearance at his bedside. Gibbs just kept looking at him, relief written plainly on his features but before Tony could question his presence, they were interrupted by the door opening.

A nurse peeked in, and then broke out in a friendly smile as she entered and approached the bed. "Ah, Mr. DiNozzo…you're awake. It's good to see you back with us. You did keep us on our toes for a bit," she said with a wink. She looked over at Gibbs pointedly and asked "Would you mind waiting outside while I give Mr. DiNozzo a brief exam? This shouldn't take long," she said as she donned latex gloves.

Gibbs hesitated, looking over and half expecting Tony to ask Gibbs to stay. He didn't, and it hurt more than he expected. "Of course," he replied quietly. "I'll be just outside Tony."

Tony didn't answer; just watched him with a guarded expression while he stepped outside and paced anxiously.

"What happened?" Tony asked as the nurse unwrapped and checked his injured arm.

"Do you remember being shot?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah," he answered as the pain from having his injury prodded ramped up significantly. "It didn't seem all that serious at first."

"Well, you were lucky," she replied.

"It doesn't feel like it," Tony grouched as she checked his stitches, causing a bright flare of pain.

The nurse re-wrapped his arm as she explained, "The bullet nicked your brachial artery. Right about here," she said pointing at the inside of her own bicep. "An injury to this artery can cause life-threatening blood loss. You're lucky it was only a nick and that treatment began when it did."

"Oh," Tony offered weakly; a little surprised at his close call.

"All done," the nurse said, patting his shoulder and removing her gloves. "Shall I let your friend back in, or would you rather rest?"

Tony stole a glance outside the door, where Gibbs still paced in agitation. He sighed; not sure he was ready for this but not wanting to put it off either. "He can come in," Tony said reluctantly.

A few minutes later, Gibbs resettled himself in the chair next to Tony's bed and laid his hand over Tony's, seemingly without even thinking and Tony wasn't at all sure how he felt about it. Time to get this over with, he thought.

"Why are you here?" Tony asked quietly, his body tense and expression suddenly shuttered. Gibbs' heart sank as Tony pulled his wrist from his grasp.

"I'm still on your papers as next of kin."

"Sorry you were inconvenienced," Tony said coolly. "You can go back to Mexico now. You're not responsible for me."

"You think that's the only reason I'm here? That I'm checking a box out of some sense of responsibility?" he said incredulously.

"Aren't you?" Tony shot back, hurt and anger helping to dispel the fog of the drugs he'd been given.

"No, dammit!" The words tumbled out before Gibbs could stop them. "I'm here because I came back and I remember. I'm here because I was terrified I'd lose you before I got a chance to tell you! You almost bled out," he said accusingly.

Tony's heart pounded at the revelation and he didn't know what to do with it. A few weeks ago, this would have been everything he wanted to hear. Now he didn't trust it; didn't trust Gibbs.

"Tony?" Gibbs reached out to touch his face and he shied away from the hand. There was a flicker of pain in Gibbs' eyes and he seemed to wilt at that, but he sat back and respected Tony's unspoken need for space.

"Madam Director pissed that you're here?" Tony asked, changing the subject.

"She's no longer a concern. Not for me and not for you. She's been removed from the Director position."

"What? When did this happen?"

"It was a couple weeks or so ago. The powers that be are keeping it out of the news and out of agency communications. It's all very hush hush," Gibbs said. "I know what she tried to get you to do, Tony."

Tony closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "She didn't let it go, did she?" he guessed.

Gibbs shook his head. "La Grenouille? No. She killed him. He was in DC to see his daughter; she tracked him to his yacht and shot him," Gibbs explained. "Jenny was investigated; we found her private files on Benoit, notes and journals going back years, including the ones that outlined her plan to have you become involved with Jeanne Benoit. Her plan all along was to draw him out and kill him. She used his arms dealing as justification to get you to go undercover and help her find him."

"I tried to warn her to let it go," Tony said regretfully, knowing Gibbs had once been fond of her. "She was obsessed."

"There was nothing anyone could have done to stop her," Gibbs assured him. "The CIA has someone waiting in the wings to take Benoit's spot and has no interest in seeing any of this come out in the wash. She's been forced out and her career is done, but that's it."

"So they're sweeping a murder under the rug," Tony said distastefully.

"Yeah."

"What now?" Tony asked, confused and more than a little overwhelmed.

"Can we talk about us, Tony?"

Tony sighed and closed his eyes. "What if there's no us to talk about, Gibbs?"

Gibbs was crestfallen. He was 'Gibbs', not 'Jethro' now. He'd hurt Tony too deeply. "Is that how you feel?" he asked; heart in his throat.

"I don't know how I feel right now, Gibbs."

"I can tell you how I feel, Tony. I know the damage I did by leaving that way; by forgetting what we had."

Tears prickled behind Tony's closed eyes and he clenched his fists, sending sharp pain shooting through his injured arm. But he didn't stop Gibbs from speaking; he needed to hear this.

"I'm ashamed I forgot how much you meant to me. I can't explain why it happened, but it's not because it wasn't real. It was as real as me and Shannon. Set aside those insecurities that say you weren't good enough," Gibbs entreated. "You were…you are."

Tony wanted so badly to believe, but he'd gotten used to being alone again. "I don't have it in me to go through this again, Gibbs."

Gibbs itched to take Tony's hand. "You won't ever have to. What can I do to prove it to you?"

"I can't do this right now, Gibbs. I'm sick, tired, and in pain. Not to mention foggy from the painkillers. I need some time to think when I don't feel like crap."

Gibbs nodded. Tony was vulnerable and wanted to find his equilibrium so he could feel on equal terms again. "Whatever you want, Tony. Just tell me there's a chance."

Tony sighed, agreeing reluctantly. "I'm driving down to Annapolis for a law enforcement conference in three weeks or so. I'll be on the mend by then. I'll stay for an extra couple days and we can meet; try to talk some things out."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Gibbs left Tony in Groton; giving him the time to recover and decide what he wanted, and if that would include him. Tony surprised him a few days later by reaching out first; calling him at NCIS to give him the upcoming dates and times he would be in Annapolis. Tony continued to rest and heal over the two weeks following that first call. During that time, they shared both easy, relaxed phone conversations and contentious ones where they worked through issues surrounding the outpouring of pain and loss in the letter Tony left him.

They seemed to have come to an understanding and reached a point where they might be able to decide where their relationship would go from here. Gibbs knew what he wanted but pressuring Tony was the wrong thing to do, so he just worked on his plan to convince Tony of the place he had in Gibbs' life. He recalled Tony's heartrending words in the hospital and how he'd responded.

I don't have it in me to go through this again, Gibbs.

You won't ever have to. What can I do to prove it to you?

Today was the day he would see Tony again. He'd been working day and night on finishing the gift he hoped would prove to Tony how he felt, and was as nervous as he was the night he asked Shannon to marry him. If this didn't convince Tony, he didn't know what would. All his hopes hung on Tony's response to his gift and his belief in what it meant. He climbed into a taxi and headed for Tony's hotel.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Gibbs paced the lobby impatiently. Tony called to tell him the last day of the conference ran long and he wanted to shower before they met for dinner. Every time the elevator doors opened he stopped pacing only to be disappointed as a stranger stepped out each time. Finally, the doors opened and Tony stepped out.

Damn, but he looked fantastic. He'd lost the pallor he had in the hospital and looked tan and healthy in jeans and a light V-neck sweater. When Tony turned in his room key to the front desk staff, he couldn't help but check out his ass. Those jeans were snug in all the right places. He flushed as Tony turned and gave a bright smile on seeing him waiting there.

"Hey Jethro," Tony greeted. "You look good."

Gibbs smiled; he was back to being 'Jethro' and it was a start. "You too."

"Let's go, I'm starved," Tony said as he hefted a bag on one shoulder, still favoring his injured arm a bit. "You said you made reservations?"

"Yeah…a place at the marina. You mind driving?"

Tony gave him a side eye glance as they walked toward his car. "Who are you, and what have you done with Gibbs? You want me to drive?"

Gibbs just shrugged and smiled. "Been a while since I've seen the Mustang."

Tony shook a finger at him. "I know you; you're up to something," He teased as he unlocked the car and threw his bag in the back seat. "Okay, I'll play along," he said.

They drove to the marina in relative silence. Gibbs seemed preoccupied and nervous. It was out of character. Tony had always been preternaturally aware of Gibbs' moods and responded instinctively. Gibbs was beginning to make Tony uneasy.

When they arrived, Gibbs climbed out of the car and waited, staring out at the boats in the marina as Tony locked up.

"Jethro, we've been getting along fine these last couple of weeks with the phone calls, but you're weirding me out right now."

Gibbs looked chagrined. "I'm sorry."

"Just tell me what's going on with you."

"I will…play along a little longer?" Gibbs asked, laying a tentative hand on Tony's shoulder.

Tony reached up, placed his hand over Gibbs' and gave a small smile.

"Come with me, I have something to show you before it gets dark."

Tony looked at him quizzically, but followed as Jethro led him along one crowded pier, where boats and yachts of various sizes were tied up in the slips on either side.

"When you moved out Tony, you left something behind," Jethro said out of nowhere.

Tony steps faltered and he tensed a bit at the unhappy memory. "Yeah, what?"

Jethro stopped and reached into his pocket and withdrew something and held his closed hand out to Tony.

Tony reached out and Gibbs pressed a small brass key into his hand. "Whether you come home to me or not Tony, the doors will never be locked to you."

"Thanks Jethro. So…you have all your memories back?"

"I have the important ones."

"You called me McGee," he reminded with mock resentment in his voice.

Gibbs laughed. "I know, I remember…I'm sorry, okay?" Gibbs' face went serious again. "I also remember saying the night before I got hurt that I had things to tell you. That when the boat was done, if you were still here, I'd tell you anything and everything you want to know."

Gibbs gently took Tony's shoulders and turned him toward the slip just ahead of them at the end of the pier. "The boat's done," he said meaningfully. "It's yours."

Tony's jaw dropped; he recognized it immediately. "Oh my god…this is our boat." He just stared for a moment and finally managed to ask. "What are you saying here, Jethro?"

"That I'm ready to let you in; to put an end to the secrets and break the bad habits that kept us in limbo. These last months without you, I learned some things," Gibbs said earnestly. "The past is the past. I can't fix it, I can't change it, and I can't live in it. All I can do is try to build a future; make new memories. I want to do that with you, if you'll have me."

Tony was still shocked at the boat. "You built me a boat. I'm not dead, you know; and I didn't leave you. You left me."

"I know, Tony. Ever since Shannon, I've been building boats for all the ones who've left me behind one way or the other. This boat isn't about loss and abandonment. It's meant to be sailed; it always was. I just wasn't ready to tell you yet." Gibbs braced himself for rejection. "This boat was never about exorcising demons or the ones who left, it's a gift for the one I hope will stay. That's you, Tony."

Tony felt the last of his resistance melting away. He was drawn to the beautiful sailboat, and walked along the slip for a closer look.

Gibbs followed Tony as he took in the boat. His heart pounded in his chest; he was uncertain about what Tony was thinking, and whether his silence was good or bad. Had he done enough to win Tony back?

Tony paused at the stern of the boat, taking in the name, and then looked back at Gibbs bemusedly. Knowing Gibbs, the name he'd selected was something deeply meaningful. With a raised eyebrow, he queried "Breaking Habits"?

Gibbs offered a tentative smile. "It's about letting go of all the reservations and bad habits that kept me from giving you, and our relationship one hundred percent. It means I'm all in, Tony and you deserve nothing less. I'd do anything; give anything to make you happy."

Tony's throat tightened as joy, and a myriad of other emotions rose in his chest. This was what he'd always hoped for; that Gibbs would finally be able to give all of himself without reservation. What more of a declaration could he ask for? He swallowed down the lump in his throat, ready to give Gibbs his answer. "I thought you said you weren't into grand romantic gestures. When you do get it in your head to make one, you go all out don't you?"

"Is it working? Come back and I'll tell you how I broke the bottle," Gibbs bargained with a sly smile.

"I guess I'm going to have to now, seeing that little secret is on the table," Tony teased. "Besides, I can't have you going back without me and burning my boat in the backyard, Jeth."

Gibbs smiled at the nickname making a reappearance. "Is that a yes?"

"Depends…" Tony said, rubbing his chin and looking thoughtfully at the boat.

"On?"

"You did put a bed onboard there somewhere, right?"

Gibbs' face broke out in a rare wide grin and the blue eyes shone with relief. "Ya think?"

Tony moved nearer and cupped Gibbs' cheek. His green eyes were luminous and happy as the hand slid around to the back of Gibbs' neck and gently pulled him closer. Tony touched his forehead to Gibbs' and then their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss. Gibbs' hand stole up along Tony's arm and shoulder to his face, where his fingers brushed lovingly across Tony's skin. The kiss felt like coming home to them both and they pulled apart reluctantly. "How about a tour?" Tony asked with a soft smile.

They climbed aboard and Tony admired the workmanship and gleaming wood as Gibbs pointed out the various features above deck. Then by unspoken agreement and hand in hand, they went below. They broke apart just long enough to secure the hatch; and then set out to get reacquainted with every inch of each other and make the first of many new memories on Tony's new boat.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

AN: So ends my first full-length Tony/Gibbs story. I hope you enjoyed it and if you'd like to leave a comment, I'd love to hear from you.