As Tony gradually came awake, he became aware of the soft warm blanket that had been carefully spread over his prone body. Turning his head, he wasn't surprised to see the glass of water sitting on the coffee table, or the two white tablets sitting patiently beside them. Even when he was as mad as hell at something his senior field agent had done, Gibbs was still looking out for him.

The late morning sunshine which came streaming through the windows was more unexpected. He must have been more exhausted than he realised to sleep so long or so late. Scrubbing at his face, he blinked as he caught sight of an all too familiar figure, dressed in very unfamiliar casual clothes, sitting in the arm chair, reading a newspaper as he obviously waited for him to return to the land of the living.

"Brad, what are you doing here?"

"I don't suppose you would believe that I just happened to be passing?" The young doctor made a face at Tony's disbelieving look. "No, I thought not. Well, then I guess I'm making a house call."

"Really?" Tony eased himself upright, as he reached for the water, not believing it for a second. "Does my health insurance cover home visits?"

"I think you already know the answer to that."

"I'm sorry, man," Tony apologised sincerely. He knew all too well what Gibbs could be like when he required something to happen. It was bad enough that his Boss had obviously dragged Pitt halfway across town on his day off. "I hope he didn't threaten the life of your first born or anything?"

"He's worried about you," Brad glanced over at him. "And from the sound of things he has good reason. I mean, basketball on the driveway, seriously?"

"I wasn't even moving my feet and my breathing was fine," Tony defended his actions. "I know a Phys Ed degree doesn't command a whole lot of respect from you brainy types but I've been Gibbs senior field agent for almost two years. He ought to at least listen to me when I tell him I'm doing fine."

"Because you've never ever down played your injuries, or told him you're fine when you're actually bleeding out?" Brad challenged mildly.

Tony scowled it was true that whilst he might play the sympathy card when it didn't really matter he did have a history of trying to gloss over any serious illness or injury. He just hated feeling so vulnerable or dependant on anyone. Yet Gibbs had always called him on it, every single time. Maybe, he did have only himself for blame for his Boss not believing he was the best judge of his own health and well being. But how on earth did Brad know all of that?

"Jethro and I spent a lot of time together these last couple of weeks trying to keep you breathing." Brad read his expression.

"You call him Jethro?" Tony blinked at the moniker. "Just how close did you guys get?"

"Close enough to see that he thinks of you like family. Because not even the best of CO's would sit by their agent's bedside night after night before heading into the work to put in a full day at the office. Or open up his own home and take whatever vacation time he needed to nurse that agent back to health the way Gibbs has."

"I know," Tony admitted. "And believe me, I'm grateful. Its just that .."

"You think he can't respect you as an agent if he's seen you stripped bare," Brad shook his head. "You don't know a whole lot about unconditional love do you, Buckeye? Trust me, that man has nothing but respect for how hard you've fought this damned thing. The only thing that pisses him off over all of this is that he can't be the one to just make everything better for you."

"Yeah," Tony managed a small smile. "That does sound like Gibbs."

"And I'll bet he hasn't even told you that he already got an official reprimand from the Director of NCIS for taking a security guard down with his own baton and holding a civilian scientist at gunpoint, to track down who the hell had done this to you, when he could simply have flashed his badge and asked nicely?"

"Gibbs never told you that either." Tony stated confidently.

"No, he didn't," Brad acknowledged. "But Cassie Yates did. She said she'd never seen Gibbs so scared before as when he thought you might die. You really need to get it through your thick skull this man loves you."

"He really did all that for me?" Tony asked almost shyly.

"Just like he really called me up on a Saturday morning and sweet talked my butt out of a very comfortable bed, a bed which by the way was also occupied by my very beautiful fiancée, to come over here and check on your health and well being, because, as hard as he might find to actually say it, he really does care about you."

"Next thing you'll be telling me he actually said 'please'." Tony joked.

"He did," Brad surprised him. "And he even offered to pay for Serena and I to go out to dinner to make up for breaking into our weekend. I'm telling you Buckeye, that Marine is hell bent on giving you everything you need, no matter what it costs him."

Tony considered that as he submitted to Brad's regime of poking and prodding to check on his health. His father had been good at providing the things he wanted, fashionable clothes, the latest toys and gadgets, those things were never any problem. His costs were always financial ones. But the stuff Tony really needed, his Dad's time and attention, a closer relationship, those emotional costs, had never been forthcoming. Yet Gibbs offered up those things freely, like it was no big deal and no more than he deserved.

Could it really be that Gibbs genuinely believed he was worth all the trouble?

He pondered that deep revelation as Brad left him with a relatively cleanish bill of health. Stretching out on the couch he didn't strain to hear the murmured voices in the hallway as Brad reported in to his Boss. He already knew everything he needed to know. Gibbs still respected him as an agent. Gibbs still cared about him as a person. Despite his weakness Gibbs still thought of him like family. For the first time in his life he knew for a fact that he didn't need anything else.

Not even his father.

Oh sure, he would still like a closer relationship with his Dad. But he didn't need it. Not like back when he was a kid and there was nothing else to fill that void. Now he knew that Gibbs would always have his six. Always be there for him. It was almost worth having the damned plague, to be as sick as he had been, to have the chance to really understand the lengths to which his Boss would go to in order to watch his back. Tony didn't think he had ever felt more loved and cared for. It was kind of humbling.

"Hey, DiNozzo front and centre."

Gibbs' voice called him to the kitchen table, for a late breakfast. The gruff tone very much at odds with the loving care invested in the delicately whipped omelette and the painstakingly chopped vegetables, designed to balance nutrition demands with his agent's limited ability to digest just about anything right now. As Tony forked up the first few mouthfuls he tried to remember a single time his own father had cooked anything for him with his own hands and came up empty. They had mostly eaten in fancy restaurants or sat down to formal meals prepared by the staff. The fact that the former marine would go out of his way to make something he could actually eat spoke volumes to the younger man. Unfortunately, his stomach still rebelled at the idea of more than a mouthful or two of solid food, leaving him pushing the remains of his portion around his plate, to give the appearance of eating.

"That trick ever actually work for you when you were a kid?" Gibbs asked, noticing what he was doing without apparently looking up from his own meal.

The certain knowledge that his Boss cared about him, coupled with his own sense of gratitude and obligation at everything Gibbs had already done for him, forced Tony to be more honest that he might otherwise have dared. The other man had already gone above and beyond for him, the very least Tony could do was tell him the truth, no matter how mortifying that might be.

"It's pretty hard to notice what your only son might or might not be eating when you're in a different room, another state, or sometimes a whole other continent. Apart from Christmas, Thanksgiving and some of his weddings, my father and I didn't eat together a whole lot." He admitted, even as the tips of his ears turned bright pink at the admission of neglect. Because, what did that say about his worth as a son, that his own father couldn't be bothered to spend time with him?

"Yeah, well," Gibbs tone didn't change. Didn't descend into the pity Tony couldn't bear. "You must be a whole lot sicker than I thought if you figure that kind of crap will work on me."

It was something of a risk but the former marine knew that DiNozzo responded best to a mixture of plain speaking and gruff affection. Gibbs figured his words had had the desired effect when Tony stopped poking and prodding at the remains of his breakfast to shoot him a rueful smile.

"I thought your eyesight was supposed to be shot."

Gibbs just raised a brow. When it came to DiNozzo they both knew there wasn't anything he didn't notice. Spearing a piece of the wholesome egg and vegetable concoction without a hint of pepper, paprika, or cheese, Gibbs chewed slowly and tried to pretend it was thick juicy steak.

"Could we maybe go out for dinner tonight?" Tony asked hopefully, almost reading his mind as he added. "Ducky said that the Rooftop Grill at the Adams House does the best rib-eye in town and I miss the sight and smell of real food."

"Sight and smell huh?" Gibbs looked at him. "Are you planning on eating anything?"

"Boss, going out for dinner is about so much more than just the eating," Tony shook his head. "It's about dressing up and having a cocktail or two. It's the whole social thing."

"You have a cocktail right now and you'll fall flat on your ass." Gibbs told him bluntly.

"Alright, skip the cocktails," Tony agreed. "But we could hang out in the bar cast our eyes over the babes. It's all about the company, the ambiance, dressing up in a tux and checking out the other people checking you out."

"Got plenty of ambiance right here," Gibbs pointed out. "The company's not going to be any different if we go out. Just the check will be larger. But feel free to wear a tux if you want."

"C'mon Boss, please," Tony tried his best puppy dog eyes. "I'm begging you here. I don't mean to sound ungrateful but I'm going stir crazy looking at the same four walls day after day. I just want to dress in something other than sweats and go out into the real world where the people live for a couple of hours."

Gibbs sighed. He could understand the sociable young man's need to get out and just soak in a little company and if it perked him up enough to eat a few more mouthfuls than normal then the former marine would happily slip on a good jacket and pair of pants nice enough to pass muster in the kind of fancy places his senior field agent liked to frequent.

"Do you promise to at least try to eat?"

"Absolutely," Tony nodded fervently. "Whatever you say, Boss."

Afterwards, Gibbs would admit it was entirely his fault that he let DiNozzo persuade him into allowing even a single lite beer. And in hindsight the medium rare steak was defiantly a mistake. So, he could hardly complain when the kid threw up all over his shoes as soon as he staggered out of the restaurant and hit the fresh air. Still, it was totally down to DiNozzo that he needed to be towed out to the parking lot in the first place, given how he had kissed that waitress until his weaken lungs had run out of oxygen and he had almost passed out.

"I just wanted to see if I still had it," DiNozzo slurred slightly in apology. "M'sorry about your shoes."

"I don't give a damn about the shoes," Gibbs retorted. "But if you pass out before I get you home I'm taking you straight back to Bethesda."

"DiNozzo's don't pass out," Tony insisted weakly. Then he paused, considering. "But I think I might be going to throw up again"

"Of course you are." Gibbs sighed.