Author's Note: It's shorter than usual, but I realize I left everyone on a cliff-hanger, so I didn't figure anyone would mind.

I am at a bit of a loss as to where to go from here. Feel free to leave suggestions in your reviews; if I like it, I will shamelessly appropriate it. Otherwise, it may be a while before the next update.

Enjoy!

He was in a basement he vaguely recognized. Gibbs was there too, and somehow, Tony wasn't afraid. He had a bottle in his hand, and he took an absentminded sip.

It burned his mouth, hot, liquid fire. His father's favorite drink. He spit it out and dropped the bottle on the ground. It shattered into a thousand pieces, the liquor spreading over the floor.

"What the hell are you doing?" he heard. He looked up again, and suddenly, it wasn't Gibbs standing there, but his father. His eyes were bulging and bloodshot, and he was furious. That had been his liquor!

Tony ducked, putting his arms protectively over his head. He felt the crack of another bottle—where had it come from?--crashing against his skull. His world went dark.

And suddenly, he realized he couldn't breathe. He was in a glass room, and there were blue lights shining down. Gibbs stood over him. "DiNozzo..." he heard. And then Tony noticed the water; were they in a fish tank? And he couldn't breathe because they were underwater. He flailed against the water, swimming for all he was worth, but he couldn't find the surface, and Gibbs was holding his legs, holding him under the water...no, it was his father! His father was holding him under, holding them both under, and he knew he had to get Gibbs, had to help him, or they would both drown!

He kicked hard, kicked his father right in the face, except then it was Gibbs again, and he was green and rotting and dead, and no one was holding him back anymore, but he had to rescue Gibbs. He grabbed Gibbs' cold, slimy hand and swam as hard as he could for the surface, but he couldn't reach it. And then, the weight he'd been pulling was gone. Another glance down; he was holding a rotting arm, but Gibbs wasn't attached to it.

Someone grabbed his arm and jerked him up through the water, and he screamed. His father had his arm, and his mom...what was wrong with her? He saw a spray of blood; a bullet hole in her forehead. No; no blood. Her face was whiter than he'd ever seen, eyes staring blankly as his father shoved him to the floor and began to beat him. Why wasn't she trying to help him? Why didn't she care? Why was she watching?

She was dead, he realized, and it hit him harder than any of his father's blows. Heedless, he opened his mouth and screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

He hit the light as he raced into the room. Now Tony was screaming full out, a high-pitched, ear-piercing cry that Gibbs never would have guessed his body could produce. Tangled in the sheets and blankets, Tony was absolutely drenched in sweat. Tears flowed down his cheeks.

"Tony!" Gibbs knelt on the edge of the bed, grabbed both of Tony's flailing arms and pinned them against the mattress, trying to prevent a fist to the face. The sheets worked themselves more tightly around Tony's torso as his legs thrashed. "Tony, wake up! It's okay, wake up!"

But the fierce fighting didn't stop, and neither did the screams. Gibbs leaned over the screaming kid, his heart pounding in his chest. "DiNozzo!" he roared in his best C.O. voice, hoping that it might break through to whatever was left of the senior field agent hiding behind that child.

The shriek came to an abrupt halt. Tony shrunk violently away from him as if he wished the bed would swallow him, but Gibbs didn't release his arms. "You with me, Tony?" Gibbs asked in a much softer voice. Tony was breathing hard, his arms shaking under Gibbs' hands.

"Gibbs?" The voice was raspy, strangled, and completely desperate. "Gibbs?"

"I'm right here," he answered quietly. He released Tony's arms and sat back on his heels so he wasn't looming over the boy.

He saw Tony swallow hard, and then his eyes met Gibbs'. He was startled at the utter fear he saw in those green orbs. "Really you?" Tony challenged again. "Alive?"

Gibbs nodded, noticing as Tony's eyes roved over him, taking in every detail. He put his hand over Gibbs' wrist and pulled hard. What was that about? But it seemed to satisfy him, and then Tony's eyes welled up, and he launched himself at Gibbs.

He'd seen the relief in Tony's eyes, so he let Tony crash into him and throw his arms around his neck. He managed to catch him and prevent them both from tumbling off the side of the bed. "It's okay," he murmured instinctively into Tony's hair. "Just a dream." It should have felt awkward, having Tony in his arms like that, but instead, it reminded him of comforting Kelly, despite the fact that Tony was at least three times her size.

"She was dead. A bullet in her forehead...but then not a bullet, because her face was so white...and Dad was...we were drowning...couldn't breathe. Blue lights, in a fish tank...you were rotting, green and rotting, like the corpse in the freezer..." Tony was babbling into his ear, shaking like a leaf.

Gibbs tightened his arms around the boy, mentally cursing Palmer again for planting those morbid images into Tony's head, and then it struck him. A bullet in the forehead...that was Kate. The fish tank with the blue lights was when Tony had Y-pestis. Drowning. Tony had saved him and Maddie from drowning. He was remembering things, and he didn't even realize it.

"...and I couldn't stop screaming...she was dead, Gibbs! Mom was dead!"

"Shhh," Gibbs soothed, wishing that Tony hadn't remembered his mother's death. "You're okay, Tony. You're safe. Everything is just how it was when you went to sleep." He found himself praying that Tony wouldn't ask him if his mother was really dead, because Gibbs didn't think he could handle lying about it, and Tony couldn't handle the truth right now. "C'mon, son. Take some deep breaths."

He could feel Tony's back rising and falling under his hand. "That's it," he said, encouraged that his breathing seemed to be returning to normal. Ever since the plague, he'd been inclined to worry about it. He patted Tony's back. "Keep breathing. You're all right."

Suddenly, Tony pulled away from him, quick as a flash. He was kneeling on the bed in a mirror image of Gibbs. He was still tangled in the covers from the waist down and he'd dropped his eyes. His hands were now wrapped protectively around his torso. "I'm sorry, sir," he said. His voice, rough as a cat's tongue, was absolutely devoid of emotion.

Gibbs was startled. What had happened? Tony had very nearly been in his lap a minute ago, and now he was back to calling him 'sir'? If he hadn't known Tony had been sobbing into his shoulder mere moments ago, he would have thought HE was dreaming. What the hell? "Tony?"

"Yes sir."

"Tony..." Gibbs was completely unsure of what to say. Tony didn't utter a word. So he just said what was running through his head. "What the hell is going on?"

There wasn't any bite in his words, but Tony flinched anyway. And Gibbs realized.

"Look at me," Gibbs said softly. Tony's eyes glanced up, then shot down again. "Look at me," he said again, and finally, Tony's eyes met his. "Tony, it's okay. You're not in trouble. You're safe here with me."

"I'm sorry I woke you," Tony said. It sounded like he was pleading. "I didn't mean to."

"Don't be sorry," Gibbs said. "Can't help a bad dream."

Tony's eyes dropped again. "Really didn't mean to," he mumbled. It made Gibbs' heart ache. No child, no person, should be afraid of waking someone because of a nightmare. Being comforted from a nightmare should be a child's birthright. He very gently put his left hand on Tony's shoulder. Tony flinched.

"I promise you," Gibbs said, pretending he hadn't seen. "I'll always have your six. You're safe with me. Not gonna get mad at you for something that's not even your fault, and I'm not gonna hurt you."

Those green eyes jumped up again. Gibbs wondered if Tony was making himself dizzy. His eyes were piercing into Gibbs' own now, and the question in them was as plain as if Tony had shouted it. Prove it.

"I'm a marine," he said in answer to that silent query. "Semper fi. Always faithful. We never make a promise we don't keep." He put his other hand out. "Never."

After a long pause, Tony reached out and shook it. "Okay," he said quietly in that coarse voice.

There was a moment where they both were silent, and then Gibbs stood up, patting Tony's shoulder. "C'mon," he said. "Kitchen. Tea."

Tony sat at the table, cradling a mug of tea in his hands. Gibbs had made it, gesturing at the table as he filled the tea kettle. Tony had watched as he poured honey into two mugs. "Good for your throat," Gibbs had said by way of explanation. Other than that, he hadn't spoken, placing the mug on the table in front of him.

The concoction was good, he decided as he slowly sipped it. He could feel the warmth soothing his throat. How long had he been screaming, that he'd woken Gibbs and given himself such a sore throat?

He looked at the man sitting across the table from him. He seemed to be deeply contemplating his own mug of tea, his eyes on the surface of the dark liquid.

Semper fi, he'd said. Always faithful. A marine doesn't make a promise he doesn't keep. I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe with me. It sounded good, and Tony could hardly stand how much he wanted to believe it. But did he dare?

He'd seen Gibbs smack Jimmy in the head today. Pretty hard, too. But then he'd invited him to dinner. And he hadn't seemed mad during dinner; he'd even joked with them both.

And he'd whacked Tim upside the head the other day, when Tony had asked to shave his head. But later, when they'd been wrestling in the living room, Gibbs had been trying hard not to smile; Tony had seen it in his eyes. He hadn't stayed angry.

And he hadn't hurt either of them. Not that the smack hadn't probably hurt, the way Jimmy had been rubbing his head, but it had only been once, and they were okay. He hadn't hurt hurt them. More than once, when his mom wasn't around, his dad had beaten him until he passed out. Even when Mom was around, sometimes his father would whip his butt so hard that the belt broke the skin. He couldn't imagine Gibbs doing either of those things.

Yeah, he could be rough and scary sometimes. But he wasn't mean, wasn't cruel. Tony had been so afraid when he'd woken up with Gibbs holding him down on the bed. But Gibbs hadn't looked angry, just...scared? And he'd let go of him right away. Tony had been so relieved that Gibbs really was alive that he'd hugged him. His father would have had a fit. DiNozzos did not act like children, crying like that in front of another person and hugging them. But Gibbs hadn't even cared. He'd hugged him back, for goodness sake!

He wanted to believe him, so badly it hurt. And Gibbs had been, well, nice. Nicer than he would have ever expected; nicer than he deserved. He'd tried so hard to be good, but he'd messed up more than once, and Gibbs hadn't snapped yet. Would he? Or was he safe, like he'd promised?

He swallowed the last mouthful of honey-tea and looked over at Gibbs again. Those blue eyes caught his.

"Ready for bed?" he asked quietly.

Tony considered. He nodded. Gibbs stood.

"C'mon, then," he said. "I'll tuck you in."

Maybe, Tony thought wistfully. Maybe he could believe.

Once again, he guided Tony down the hallway with a hand on his shoulder. He had relaxed over the tea; Gibbs had watched him out of the corner of his eye. He'd been deep in thought, it seemed, his forehead wrinkling.

Once inside the room, Tony didn't tumble back into the bed like Gibbs had expected. Instead, he turned so they were face to face. He didn't speak, though.

"Tony?" Gibbs asked.

Tony looked like he was debating with himself. He must have lost, Gibbs thought as he watched Tony tuck his lips into his mouth and glance down before turning back to the bed and sitting.

"You okay?"

Tony bobbed his head, still not lying down.

"You need something?"

His lips disappeared again. Gibbs just waited.

"Can you...uh," Tony stopped himself again.

Gibbs glanced at the clock. 02:56. "What do you want?" he asked simply. It probably would be something small, and then Gibbs could get back to bed, which his tired bones definitely wanted.

"I don't want to be alone in the dark." It was nearly a whisper.

"Scared of the dark?" he asked. Tony's hesitant little nod only confirmed his earlier suspicions. "That's easy enough," Gibbs replied. He turned and left the room. He'd thrown a bunch of junk into the hall closet when he'd cleaned out the guest room, and he knew he'd seen a lamp among the mess.

He looked into the closet. It was over-full, but luckily, nothing tumbled down on him. He'd balanced it well. Now, where was that lamp? He'd put it on top of a box...

It only took him a minute to dig it out. He carried it back into Tony's room. "Found it," he said, plugging it in at the side of the bed. Tony had used the time he'd spent looking for it to change into his Navy sweats, and was now perched on the side of the bed, his knees drawn up to his chin, arms clasped around them.

"You don't mind?" Tony looked between Gibbs and the lamp a couple times. "It's okay to...I can sleep with the lights on?" He sounded a little wary, as though Gibbs might pull the plug and say it had only been a trick.

"You can," Gibbs said, turning and flipping off the overhead light. Poor kid, couldn't trust much of anything. Gibbs wished he could change that. He wished he'd known before. "C'mon, lay down."

Tony obediently swung his feet up onto the bed. Gibbs fought the sigh.

"Under the blankets," he directed. Tony squirmed his way underneath without disturbing the tightly tucked in sides. It was impressive, actually, bordering on an athletic feat.

He sat down on the side of the bed. "You gonna be okay to sleep now?" he asked, looking down at Tony's surprisingly vulnerable eyes peeking out from under the covers. Those green eyes met his own.

"Yeah," Tony said. His eyes, though, begged Gibbs to see something else besides that simple word.

Gibbs sighed again. Kelly would have just crawled into his bed, making her way in between himself and Shannon. "You want me to stay?" he asked, already knowing the answer as the words left his mouth.

Tony's eyes went wide and hopeful. "You...would?"

Hell, if it meant he got to sleep, he would have crashed in the bathtub. He'd slept next to Tony before; on a case where there had been some kind of mix up in booking a hotel room, they'd ended up at a shabby little motel off the beaten track. In a way that generally only happened in movies, they'd had one room open. He, Tony, Ziva and Tim had all smashed themselves into the one king size bed, as the carpet looked and smelled as though someone had gotten violently ill on it. It had been an uncomfortable night; he'd woken with Tony's face in his armpit, and Ziva's elbow lodged in his kidney. But he had slept. And that was all he wanted right now.

"Move over," Gibbs said, pulling the sheets out from where Tony had tucked them in along the side of the bed. Tony scrambled over until the wall stopped him.

Gibbs got into the bed and pulled the covers over himself. "Now you can sleep?" he asked Tony, turning his head.

Tony's eyes were shut. He nodded sleepily. "Uh huh," he murmured. "G'night, Boss."

Despite himself, Gibbs smiled just a little. "Night, Tony."