Chapter 11

So he actually was running away after all. You're not solving your problems by ignoring them; Tony repeated the sentence distorting it with a mean voice, imitating Gibbs. He felt anger rise that constricted his chest. He felt all ugly and dark inside. What does he know about my problems?

He had told him that he cared. Why the hell would he say something like that? Tony had been shocked by that admission.

One some level he'd always hoped for someone to care, but truth be told, it had scared him to the bones to hear his gruff-ex-marine-second-b's-for-bastard-boss talk in this comforting, calm, reassuring tone. He had been nice for god's sake!

Must be pity.

He did not want pity. He did not need pity. Things were difficult enough being a pathetic screw-up, without others shedding tears about it. It wasn't an honest sentiment anyway. Couldn't be.

Pity was only one step away from revulsion. You gave pity to people who would not be able to take your honest opinion, people so pathetic that you can't be so cruel to let them know it anymore.

So he had lost his boss' respect. Gibbs now felt the need to pamper him like a lost or wounded child.

He was angry at Gibbs for putting him in this place.

He also felt a small outrage at being called an idiot again, but considering the circumstances, he probably deserved it.

Mostly, he felt embarrassed. Gibbs had seen just how needy and weak he was; otherwise he would have never had to say this load of crap about caring and stuff.

He didn't need Gibbs or anyone picking up the pieces for him. He didn't need mothering; he definitely hadn't had mothering since he was ten and got along just fine all these years.

Well, that was a load of crap to. He had been sleeping in his car last night and you probably couldn't label that a 'getting along just fine'. His life hadn't been a walk in the park. Maybe, a little mothering would have been nice.

He wouldn't cast Leroy Jethro Gibbs for the part of the mother in this movie though. He had to let out a silent laugh, when he imagined Gibbs dressed in a dress, with lace and hood, like in an episode of Little House on the Prairie.

He'd reached the level of the bullpen, but hesitated to leave the stairway. He didn't really feel up to facing his fellow agents right now. He sat down on the stairs. This was not as comforting as the elevator, but it would have to do.

Maybe now he was actually more confused than embarrassed. The strangely nice Gibbs had scared him.

His experience told him that no one was to be trusted, especially not those who had power over you. He knew that one, nice and compassionate word was more often than not, equaled by a hundred bad ones coming afterwards or being spoken behind ones back out of the same mouth.

Up until now he had not seen Gibbs betray his own word though. He had told him that he would have his six and in the field he had lived up to that every time. Tony had come to rely on that.

Could it be that if Gibbs said he cared, he actually did? That he was not making way for some kind of joke? He wasn't very good at telling jokes anyway.

The stairs weren't very comfortable. His butt was getting cold, his back hurt from leaning into a sharp edge. He was tired though, he hadn't gotten very much sleep lately. So he shifted his back until he was leaning against the banister. His legs stretched out across one step. He rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes with a weary sigh.

He must have been fallen asleep, at least he had managed to be startled awake by a nightmare and not a team member. Now, that would be embarrassing. No rest for the little, stupid ones.

With an effort he got back to his feet. He could only hope that nobody had used the stairs and seen him during his little nap.

For a bunch of field agents they sure were choosing the comfort of the elevator a lot over the exercising effect the stairs held.

He had not thought it possible, but he had found a place to sleep even worse than his car. Tonight he might just go for it and look for a nice bridge.

It had passed a little over half an hour since he had run away from autopsy. He could probably pull off pretending he just made a stop at the head.

You could try sleeping in a toilet cabin, they're reasonably clean.

He took a deep breath, to lose the sleepiness, to shoo away the pictures of his nightmare still vivid in his head, and to steel him for the coming. Then he stepped through the door into the bullpen. Gibbs had returned to his desk and was typing, probably his report. Kate and McGee were doing the same.

He lowered his gaze to the floor and made his way to his own desk. He was hoping that if he wasn't looking at them, they would refrain from looking at him to. Yeah right, like that's the way things worked.

He sat down. Giving a hostile glare to his co-workers, that was aimed to prevent all questions, and continued his own work.

The hours passed and he was working with full concentration. He didn't say a word to anyone and no one talked to him.

He was sure Gibbs had stared at him a few times, but he didn't bother to look up and meet his eyes. He could do without the full power of the famous Gibbs glare.

He wondered if Gibbs had sat in front of a mirror to practice that. It was extremely effective, no matter what.

Finally, Gibbs gave the signal to leave.

"Go home. We did a good job today. Take your rest, you earned it!" Kate and McGee instantly packed their stuff and hurried out, relived to escape the tense atmosphere and end the exhausting workday full of reports and other paperwork.

Tony took his time, as he didn't have a place to go; he figured there was no need to hurry.

"DiNozzo!" it was a patented Gibbs bark, which left no room for defiance. It was the call used when he ordered him to follow, to pick up a lead, or to get coffee. It was a bark one had to obey. So Gibbs wasn't finished with him yet. That figured. He braced himself for the coming.

"You're with me."


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