***

Chapter 11

Gibbs really wasn't looking forward to the end of the week. Three more days—only three—and Sandburg and Ellison would return home. He hated admitting it (and he wasn't admitting it to anyone but himself), but he'd been taking more than a little security in the fact that Ellison knew firsthand what Tony was going through, and Sandburg was an expert on knowing what to do when things went wrong. The kid's intuition was uncanny when it came to this Sentinel business. Tony had marveled over it in private to Gibbs on several occasions, along the lines of, "I guess the guy really does know what he's talking about, Boss. Mumbo-jumbo or not…"

Another thing Gibbs would never admit was that Tony's growing appreciation for, and gratitude to, Sandburg irritated him. Sometimes, for all he owed Sandburg, he found himself resisting the urge to snap at him. The urge was declining now, however, and his irritation with himself increasing. It was becoming more and more apparent that, for all his esteem for Sandburg's knowledge, Tony still ultimately looked to Gibbs to make this right. No…"make this right" didn't describe what Gibbs' job was now. Make this work, was more like it. Make it so that Tony didn't zone out and get himself run over while crossing a street on a simple coffee run.

Yeah, Gibbs would admit that: this was setting him on edge. But Tony? Nope. Tony gradually seemed to be coming to terms with all this. For all his bewilderment over Gibbs' matter-of-fact treatment of offering to be his Guide, Tony seemed at ease with the idea now. He actually seemed pleased about it, in a mildly embarrassed way, and eager to learn from Sandburg—and above all, utterly confident in his boss's ability to learn his own role as Guide. Ziva and McGee were a little surprised at the concept, but actually took it very much in stride. And, odd though the whole thing was, they were confident in him. Abby had been thrilled and supportive, and Ducky had nodded with a smile, and an approving, "Yes indeed, Jethro. I do believe you're right."

But was he? It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. It still did, in theory. After all, who else would he trust to watch DiNozzo's back? But this wasn't just watching his back, or knowing when to offer a gruff word of approval, or an admonishing head-slap. This was knowing how to help him through stuff neither of them entirely understood. It meant Gibbs had better learn to understand, or, at the very least, Tony would suffer a lot of needless pain while he tried to get his act together. At worst, he could get him killed.

Gibbs really wasn't looking forward to the end of the week. It meant Tony would be depending on him instead of Sandburg, and right now Gibbs felt grossly ill-equipped. Being ill-equipped to back up a fellow agent, much less one of the people under his command, was unacceptable.

Hence all the practice runs. Gibbs urged them, Sandburg enthused over them, Ellison cooperated, and Tony worked as hard, and with as much focus as Gibbs had ever seen him show.

The park, or Gibbs' house, seemed to be their primary training grounds, and today they'd chosen the wide open spaces. Gibbs was impressed with the number of times Abby had risked getting a sunburn to tag along on their outings. The fascination of it all, combined with her more potent concern for Tony, must've simply been too much motivation for her to stand against. Today, however, she'd had to focus on catching up on some lab work, and her cheerful presence was notably absent.

However, Tony would have quite the progress report to hand to his surrogate mother hen/protective sister. He'd been passing Sandburg's "experiments" with flying colors. The focus today had been on using his sense of smell, which he seemed to be grasping fairly quickly.

Sandburg was currently beaming with pride. "You're really doing great, Tony. You're doing awesome. It hasn't even been a week, man, and look at all the progress you've made."

Tony looked pleased as well, but not entirely in accord with the anthropologist's pronouncement. "Yeah. I only zone…like, once a day, now. Look at me go."

That really deserved a head-slap, and Gibbs wasn't sparing, but it was only partially a check on his sarcasm, and more importantly meant as encouragement.

Tony flinched happily under the reproof, and whined, "Geez, Boss, it's not fair. I get head-slapped if I'm negative, I get head-slapped if I'm too cheerful, I get head-slapped if I zone…" He shot Sandburg a look of reproach. "You just had to tell him his 'unconventional methods' were 'effective', didn't you?"

Blair shrugged, smiling unapologetically. He still often showed signs of bewilderment while witnessing their peculiar brand of friendship, but he at least was beginning to recognize their way of relating as being of a fonder nature than it appeared at first glance.

"You looking for fairness, DiNozzo?" Gibbs drawled.

Tony knew the right response. "Not me, Boss."

"Well you've at least earned a break. Hotdogs?" Blair suggested.

Jim brightened considerably at the prospect, but Gibbs noted Tony's lack of usual enthusiasm over mention one of his favorite food groups.

"Tony?" Gibbs prodded.

"Ah…I don't really feel like it, Boss. You guys go ahead though." Under Gibbs' critical look, Tony elaborated, "Just caught a whiff of jalapeño while I was doing that last test. I think it was from the stand—must offer 'em as a topping. And, of course, there's mustard…" He made a face. "Not terribly appetizing."

Blair clenched his jaw. "Honestly, I'd like to give that Forester guy a piece of my mind…"

Abby had shared the saga with Sandburg, and both of them had shared their indignation. Seeing Sandburg take Forester's juvenile action—and it had been an obvious one, at that—as a personal offence had definitely eased some of the tension Gibbs had been feeling towards the younger man.

Tony chuckled. "Oh, believe me, Abby and everyone else shared enough of theirs with the jerk." He gestured to the hotdog stand as they approached. "Really, don't let me stop you guys."

Gibbs took charge—and ordered four hotdogs. He handed Tony his, with a look that dared him to protest.

Tony did so anyways. "Boss, really, I don't think I can stomach anything right now."

"Eat."

Tony was really looking green as he eyed the food. Just when pity was starting to win, but before Gibbs could say anything, Tony took a large bite, apparently hoping to get it over with in three bites. A split second later, he looked like he was struggling not to gag or spit it back out.

Hindsight is twenty-twenty. Gibbs cringed inwardly, regretting the heavy-handedness too late. But making sure his agents ate enough was, in its small way, one of the everyday ways Gibbs tried to show he cared about the welfare of his team. He wasn't always the best with words, but buying a pizza—yeah, that was something he could do. With DiNozzo, for all the younger agent's love of food, when the kid got distracted he often forgot those bothersome necessity of life things, i.e. eating and sleeping.

Right now, however, Gibbs felt not only inadequate to the situation, but also afraid of compounding the situation he'd created by having the gall to turn around and try fixing it. Automatically, he looked for aid to Sandburg, who he realized had been glancing expectantly at him.

But Sandburg was ready for every emergency, as always, and stepped into the gap Gibbs' momentary hesitation created. He gripped Tony's shoulder, and urged, "Dial smell and taste way down, man—way down." He smiled ruefully. "I'm really sorry, Tony, should've made sure things had settled down after all the training we've been doing today."

Tony shook his head in the universally understood gesture of wide-eyed desperation that signified that, if he wasn't choking or throwing up now, one option or the other was soon going to have to happen.

"Easy, Tony," Blair continued soothingly. "Just ignore the taste and swallow it."

Tony managed to get it down, gagging afterwards with a grimace. Gulping in air, he shuddered, and moaned, "I've gotta stop doing that."

Finally, Tony got it under control, returning to what was steadily becoming his habitual post Sentinel-related crisis expression. Sheepish. Annoyed. Frustrated with himself. And, again, sheepish. "I guess I'm just a little sensitive about food right now. Apparently taste got turned up along with smell." He laughed self-derogatorily. "I don't know what I'm expecting the food to do… Just turn spicy?"

"Hey, it's understandable," Blair reassured.

"Been there, done that," Jim sympathized. "Only it was spoiled milk for me."

Tony cringed. "Ouch. How did that happen?"

Blair laughed nervously. "Story for another time. How're you doing now?"

Tony eyed the hotdog in his hand. "Eh, fine…"

"Abby made me buy all that salad; someone better eat it," Gibbs ordered/suggested gruffly. He had, after all, just displayed doubly how out of his depth he was with this. He'd frozen on Tony, letting Sandburg be the one to jump into action. He expected at least a little reproach from Tony, but got rueful good humor instead, and a buoyant cheerfulness.

"Yeah, salad actual sounds almost edible, Boss." Tony snorted incredulously. "Look at me, I'm gonna turn into a health food nut, or something."

Jim gave him a clap on the back. "No worries. It'll pass."

They turned their footsteps towards home, and Gibbs sighed inwardly. He was beginning to think Tony would really be better off not trusting him so unconditionally in this instance.

Sandburg fell into step with Gibbs, as, in front of them, the two Sentinels did some bonding over junk-food talk.

Blair said quietly, "You'll get it, man. Tony knows you're there for him, and you are, that's what counts. He's got to learn a lot, and so do you. It's no piece of cake being a Sentinel, but neither is being a Guide."

Gibbs tried not to let doubts haunt him. He preferred facing them head on. "Sandburg, if I'm not cut out for this, I need to face it—and find someone who is qualified."

Blair smiled. "Oh, you're cut out for it, no doubt."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

"You care about him, and you know what he needs. It's just a matter of getting your own inhibitions out of the way."

"There's one other thing I've been wanting to talk to you about."

"Yeah?" Blair glanced at him expectantly.

Gibbs kept his face a blank. "I've been having the urge to strangle you a lot lately."

"Well, that's not actually all that unusual…" Blair's laugh was strained. "Seriously, though it's probably some sort of Guide-to-Guide tension, and feeling instinctively protective of 'your' Sentinel. The same thing works the other way around, too, with the Sentinels getting kinda territorial over 'their' Guides sometimes."

"Hmm… That would explain it." Gibbs glanced sideways at him through narrowed eyes.

"And not giving in to the urge to strangle, that's an inhibition you need to keep, man."

***

Gibbs sank unto the couch, handing Tony his requested bottle of water, and taking a drink from his own can of pop. He watched passively, save for a few grunts and murmurs in response to Tony's running commentary on the current program displayed on the TV screen. Gibbs wasn't even aware of what the program was. He was intent on studying the younger man, even as he explained the finer points of…whatever it was he was going on about. The word "classic" was being used liberally, but Gibbs didn't recognize anyone on-screen at a glance. Which wasn't saying much.

What Gibbs did know something about was Tony's behavior. Sure, it could look rather self-explanatory to the casual observer (either that or monumentally and hopelessly bewildering and contradictory), but Gibbs liked to think he'd learned a thing or two about reading Tony.

Right now, for instance, Tony's babbling wasn't the nonsensical babble of a Tony that was taking the current lull in work-related activity to revisit his childhood and indulge in unabashed enjoyment of television. Instead, Gibbs was becoming more and more convinced that this was the babbling of a Tony that was steadily becoming overwhelmed by the changes facing him, and was reverting by default to his simplest and easiest façade. Tony the self-admittedly juvenile movie fanatic was not all an act. Right now, however, it was certainly part of a failing cover-up for deeper issues.

The direct approach was always good, and necessary where an evasive Tony was concerned, but too much directness would only send him deeper into hiding. Thankfully, Gibbs was practiced at sounding casual. "You sure you're all right, Tony?"

Tony raised both eyebrows in an expression that tried unsuccessfully to express complete and absolute surprise that Gibbs felt it necessary to even ask. Why, in fact, would he be anything but all right? Was there some reason why he wouldn't be all right?

Gibbs humored him. "The hotdog incident."

Tony deserved the reminder for his insistence in attempting obliviousness. He scrunched his face up, but kept his eyes glued to the TV. "Oh, ah. I'd really rather not think about it…"

"Salad." Gibbs left if to Tony to decide whether it was an accusation, question, or order.

Tony seemed to have some trouble deciding, hemming and hawing, before smoothly covering all his bases with, "Yeah, forgot…not really hungry."

Gibbs sighed inwardly—something he was doing with more frequency, and most often in regards to Tony, of late. Gibbs was feeling about as close to pliable and lenient as he ever got after the fiasco of the afternoon. But, Tony was still going to have to eat enough to support life, and ever since the hijacked sandwich, Gibbs had sensed a lack of the usual gusto in Tony, even when it came to things like pizza. Yeah, it worried him—and yeah, if his being a Guide gave him a good excuse to be a little more openly paranoid than he might usually allow himself to be, then he'd take that excuse.

Ordering Tony to buck up and eat something already probably wasn't his best course of action, though something of the sort, if perhaps not of the precise wording, was hovering on the edge of his mind. Besides, there was no need to revert to techniques that would have horrified Sandburg. Not yet anyways. He had a few tried-and-true methods left.

Gibbs watched the Lone Ranger gallop across the screen for a few minutes, before stating, "I could've reacted faster."

Tony didn't brush him off. Quite to the contrary. He covered his taken aback reaction quickly, but it had been there alright.

"I should have reacted faster," Gibbs continued, forcing each word out precisely, and firmly. Sounding convicted wasn't hard.

Tony squirmed, and tried to feign distraction via the TV. Gibbs could see easily enough that an apology was not what he wanted to hear. Too bad.

"I can't expect you to get used to all this if I can't. And if I can't be there to back you up, I shouldn't be asking you to count on me."

"Yeah, well, speaking of…all that."

A poorly executed retreat from the topic on Tony's part. Or at least a change in the direction the topic took. To Gibbs it seemed more as if Tony were too preoccupied with getting whatever was on his mind out, than as if he were deliberately trying to keep Gibbs from further apologizing.

That wasn't all, though, that had Gibbs shooting gauging looks in Tony's direction. They weren't exactly pros in their knowledge of this Sentinel business, but they did at least know what to call it now, and "all that" was not it. Gibbs understood Tony's need to treat the situation flippantly. He realized an excess of jokes and a devil-may-care attitude usually meant the subject did mean something to Tony. That didn't mean Gibbs condoned it, especially when the problem threatened Tony's life, whether or not Tony chose to acknowledge it. If there was one thing Tony needed, it was for someone to take his problems more seriously than he allowed himself to.

"Hmm?" While trying to keep it casual, he wasn't going to let Tony back down from the conversation altogether.

"It's just this—" Tony cut himself off with a grunt that sounded self-disgusted. He tried a new opening. "Boss, I really do appreciate the time and effort you, and Ducky, and Abby, and everyone, have put into helping me out with this. I mean," he laughed, "talk about going above and beyond the call of duty for a co-worker."

The kid really didn't get it, did he? He couldn't differentiate family concern from a work-related act of goodwill. Gibbs kept his mouth shut, since he wanted Tony to get to the bottom of whatever he was trying to say. He had a good guess what that might be.

"I mean, you guys even went to bat with the director over this, and even she agreed to give me a chance, which is definitely touching." He grinned, not looking at Gibbs, still pretending his interest was wrapped up in the TV. "But you know, eventually, there's only so many second chances you can give one person." His grin widened. "Even if said person is brilliant and undeniably hard to replace."

"You giving up on me as a Guide, DiNozzo?"

Tony's head jerked away sideways, TV-watching pretence a lost cause. "Of course not, I—"

Gibbs' raised eyebrow challenged him to finish.

"Boss." Tony's tone said he was grateful for the attempt Gibbs was making to place himself with as much blame as Tony for any failure. However, it also said that Tony was certain that Gibbs wasn't in any way to blame, and that he wasn't so naive he didn't realize Gibbs was only trying to make him feel like less of a complete and utter lost cause. Though he didn't come right out and say it in so many words, Gibbs could read between the lines: "Thanks, boss—but get real."

"By 'brilliant and undeniably hard to replace,' I didn't mean you." Tony stopped with a wince. "Not that you're not, Boss."

Tony was meriting more than one head slap in a surprisingly short space of time—even for him. He'd get his full quota too, later.

"Boss, what I mean is…"

"I know what you mean, DiNozzo."

"I just thought it might be a good idea to reconsider—"

"You can un-consider it as of now."

"But what if the director wants to reconsider—"

"She doesn't yet, and if she does, you leave that to me."

Tony looked like he was trying to come up with another "but" or "what if." Gibbs had heard all he needed to hear, though. Sometimes Tony was the only thing that stood in Tony's own way. "So you had some trouble, and I wasn't fast enough. You ready to move on already?"

Tony was obviously carrying the weight of a hundred real and imagined failures as a Sentinel, and the occasional pep talk wasn't going to make him grin and shrug it all off. However, Gibbs did like to imagine that the surprise he saw in the other man was the beginning of comprehension. You're not a failed experiment yet, kid. Not by a long-shot.

"Yeah, Boss, I'm ready."

***

Hi everyone! *waves* This is actually not Sweet Anonymity, here. I'm her sister, Imbecamiel, aka Cami. So why am I here instead of her? Well, she wanted to update earlier, but things got kind of crazy, so she didn't have a chance. And now, as I type, she is having her wisdom teeth removed. But her last thought, even as she went to meet her fate, was of you, her beloved readers! Should she fail to make it, she still wished to ensure that you received this chapter in a timely manner. Thus - my role. *bows*

On a more serious note - the next part will be up as soon as she's feeling better. Or when she asks me to put it up, should it take her longer than expected to recover. Her body's been known to have a pretty rough time with even supposedly minor surgeries.

Many thanks to anonymous reviewers Verdad y Vida, diana teo, Dani, and Random Flyer (hope I got everyone!). And thanks to all you other reviewers, too! Seriously, you all don't get to see firsthand just how encouraged and energized your reviews get her, but I do. And I can certainly attest that they've got her writing like crazy! You've got some very fun stories to look forward to, coming up. :)