Most people believed that Gibbs' coffee runs were purely for caffeination purposes, a misconception he was perfectly happy to let stand. It was the main reason, of course - anyone who worked with him knew better than to get in the way of a non-caffeinated Gibbs - but he also used the trips to get out of the office when he just needed to think. He didn't know if it was the walk, the coffee, or simply the routine of it, but by the time he got back he had usually worked through whatever had driven him out in the first place. Most often it was about a case, something that wasn't adding up. Occasionally, though, he used them to mull over the best way to handle a particularly tricky situation, generally defined as something he couldn't bulldoze his way through.

There had been a lot of coffee runs lately.

This one, he hoped, would lead him to some kind of decision about what to do with Tony. Gibbs had finally reached the limit of what he was willing to overlook. Unlike McGee and Ziva, he had the added perspective of seeing Tony after hours as well - or, for the past week, not seeing him. After last night, he finally knew why.

It was sometime after midnight when Gibbs finally shut off the lights and climbed the stairs from the basement. He'd been unusually absorbed in his work tonight, taking solace in the familiar, repetitive motions of sanding, the scent of sawdust mingling with the indefinable earthy smell common to every unfinished basement, and the quiet. Mostly the quiet.

The quiet, though, was what eventually drove him from his workshop. He hadn't heard a sound from upstairs all night, and with Tony around, that wasn't typical. Tony's evening routine generally consisted of flipping on some movie from the growing stack of DVDs beside the television, and trying to talk his boss into watching it with him. Gibbs occasionally gave in; even more rarely, he made it through the entire movie without getting bored or annoyed with it and retreating to the basement, his boat, and sometimes his bourbon. Still, the faint strands of dialogue (occasionally punctuated by explosions, depending on the movie) would filter down the stairs, signs of life from above.

Tony, for his part, had taken to wandering down and sitting on the stairs after the movie ended. He didn't say much, aside from the occasional smart-ass comment about the farm report or whatnot. Once in awhile they talked about whatever case they were currently working, but mostly, Tony seemed content to watch Gibbs work. A silent Tony was out of character, perhaps, but Gibbs figured that Tony more than anyone had a right to have a lot on his mind.

During the past week, though, Gibbs hadn't seen a sign of him once they'd walked in the door at night. Tony retreated to the guest room - his room now, really - and didn't emerge until they left for work in the morning. Gibbs assumed he needed space, and had no problem giving it to him, but he was getting the feeling there was more to it than that. If it happened again, they would need to have a little talk. Space was one thing, but he wasn't about to let Tony keep hiding like this.

Gibbs made his way down the dark hall. The door to Tony's room was half-open, and as he passed he could see Tony sprawled across the bed, snoring softly, still fully dressed. As Gibbs watched, he muttered something in his sleep and rolled over, arm flopping off the side of the bed.

So that was it. He hadn't been hiding at all - he'd been coming straight upstairs and falling asleep. Tomorrow, Gibbs knew, he'd be more than a little annoyed with Tony for letting himself get so exhausted he couldn't even get his shoes off before crashing. Tonight, the sight touched every parental instinct Gibbs had.

He slipped into the room, initially intending just to remove Tony's shoes and at least get him under a blanket. He was untying the second shoe when Tony's sleepy voice said, "Am I late?"

"Nope. Go back to sleep."

"OK." Gibbs thought he was out again, until Tony mumbled," 's cold."

"I know." It wasn't really that cold, but between having lost weight and being perpetually anemic these days, Tony had a hard time staying warm. If he was awake enough to notice it, though, leaving him with just a blanket wasn't going to cut it. "C'mon. Get in bed."

Once they managed to get him down to his boxers and T-shirt, Gibbs pulled back the covers and Tony, still mostly asleep, crawled under them. "Never thought...you'd be tucking me in, Boss," he said, yawning hugely. "That's...Abby's job."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it." Gibbs paused. "Sleep in tomorrow, would you?" Getting him to agree while half-asleep might be cheating, but Gibbs had no problem with that.

"Mmmm." Too late. He was out again.

This morning, he'd found Tony sitting at the table waiting for him as usual, as if nothing had happened. Maybe, as far as he was concerned, it hadn't; Gibbs couldn't tell if he even remembered it. Whether he did or not didn't really matter. His mask was firmly back in place, and when Gibbs tried to suggest he take the day off, he flatly refused, insisting that he didn't need it. Like hell you don't, Gibbs had thought, but he didn't press him. It would be addressed soon enough, one way or another.

And he had been right about one thing: he was annoyed with Tony. Damn annoyed. Gibbs usually felt like he had a pretty decent handle on his senior field agent, but for the life of him he couldn't see what Tony was hoping to accomplish by pushing himself to the breaking point. He'd gotten used to Tony being overly demanding of himself; this was taking it to a whole new level of ridiculous.

Ziva and McGee coming to him that morning had only reinforced his feeling that it was past time to deal with the issue. For awhile he simply let them talk. Ziva had a laundry list of concerns - Tony wasn't eating right, he wasn't resting enough, he was pushing himself too hard, and on and on. "I tried to talk to him about it, Gibbs, but he did not want to listen," she had said.

Well, no, not when you corner him, Ziva! Gibbs could have told her that was a direct route to making Tony shut down, but from the look on her face she'd either figured it out for herself or had it driven home for her by DiNozzo. Probably a bit of both. Still, he couldn't completely fault her for trying. What the two saw in their teammate worried them, as well it should. He'd promised them both that he would deal with it, and he had every intention of delivering on that promise.

The walk did its job; by the time he got back to the building, Gibbs had his plan of action mapped out. First stop: autopsy. As he cut through the squadroom, McGee said, "Boss, the director's looking for you. She said to ask you to come up to her office."

Gibbs didn't break his stride. "OK." He had no intention of going up to Jen's office. He knew perfectly well what she wanted to talk about, and he didn't have an answer for her yet. No sense wasting both of their time.

"Uh, what do you want me to tell her?" McGee called to his retreating back.

"Whatever you want, McGee," he said, hitting the button for autopsy. "Be creative."

"Jethro!" Ducky looked surprised to see him, most likely due to the absence of bodies on the spotless stainless steel tables. "What brings you down here?"

"Tony."

"I'm afraid Tony's not here."

"I know that." Gibbs knew perfectly well that Tony was with Abby. Her lab had become something of a safe haven for him, and after what he'd heard from Ziva, Tony needed one. Gibbs was content to leave him be for now. "I need to talk to you. About Tony."

"Ah. I admit I have been wondering when this might come up." Ducky moved a stack of files off a chair and Gibbs slid into it. "I take it our dear director has been pressuring you for a decision?"

"She would if I let her corner me," Gibbs said, hearing the doors to autopsy slide open.

"If you let who corner you, Jethro?"

Jenny. He was gonna kill McGee.

He turned in his seat to see her standing behind him. "Did McGee tell you I was down here?"

"No, just a lucky guess. I wanted to speak to you -"

"About Tony. I know." Gibbs sighed. He'd hoped to have a chance to talk to Ducky privately before he had to deal with Jen. Briefly, he considered kicking her out (in a respectful, professional manner, of course...sort of...) but decided against it. Regardless of what Gibbs himself preferred, in the end it would come down to what he heard from Ducky. "You might as well sit down."

"Gee, thanks," Jen said. She pulled a chair over and joined the two men at the desk. "Jethro, if we're going to get someone assigned to cover for Tony, I need his leave paperwork."

"I haven't said I'm putting him on leave, Jen."

She sighed, looking resigned. "He needs to go on leave - you don't have a choice."

"I don't have a choice? Or you're not giving me a choice?"

"Please, be reasonable about this. I've seen Tony today - he doesn't need to be here."

"That's your expert medical opinion?"

"No, it's my opinion as Director of this agency. He's on leave, effective today."

Gibbs closed his eyes, cursing Tony's infinite stubbornness, and his own failure to rein him in sooner. "This is a mistake, Jen," he said. "Do you have any idea what leaving will do to Tony?"

"I'm more concerned about what staying will do to him," she replied.

"If I may..." Ducky began tentatively.

"By all means, Doctor," Jen said.

Gibbs didn't waste any time. "Can he handle it, Duck?"

"I don't know, Jethro."

"Not helping. I need a yes or no."

Gibbs eyed him closely while he considered. "If," he began slowly, still thinking, "he continues the way he has this week, no. He will either push himself to collapse, or overtax his already-weakened immune system.

Jen started to speak, but Ducky wasn't finished. "But, if he slows down, allows himself to rest, perhaps works fewer hours...then, all things remaining equal, I believe he will be all right."

"OK, then." As far as Gibbs was concerned, that settled the matter. "He stays."

"It will be difficult, though," Ducky said. "Anthony does not know his own limitations - or, rather, he does not accept them. He needs to be careful, listen to his body, allow himself to rest when he needs to, or he will be putting his health at risk."

"You let me worry about that, Duck."

"Whoa - now hold on just a minute," Jen cut in.

"Ducky said it's fine, Jen - what else do you need?"

"I don't know that I'm comfortable with this."

Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stay calm. Jen didn't get it, and she never would. He was aware that she had come to know Tony well during the La Grenouille op, but she never understood this side of him. The drive, determination, and dammed pigheadedness that led him to put his own health and safety at risk to get the job done, was also the force behind who Tony was.

"Trust me on this," he said. "Give me a week. If you're still convinced that he shouldn't be here, then you can pull him."

Jen looked skeptical. In the end, though, Gibbs knew that she did trust him. And that was what he had been counting on. "All right," she finally said. "You can have your week. But you need to handle this, Jethro," she said. "If you don't, then I will."

"Oh, don't worry," Gibbs said. He stood to leave. "I'll handle it."

By the time Gibbs got back to his desk, Tony had returned and was buried in a stack of files. He said very little for the rest of the day, as though he were trying not to call any attention to himself, and McGee and Ziva pretty much stayed out of his way.

Once they were gone, Gibbs looked across the bullpen to Tony. He was slumped at his desk, chin resting on his hand.

"Tony."

No answer.

"DiNozzo!"

Tony started, head snapping up. "On it, Boss!" He blinked, then squinted at Gibbs. "Uh...what am I on?"

"Your way home, that's what you're on." Gibbs couldn't help smiling. He'd seen that DiNozzo many times before. Disheveled, half-awake, and still ready to move at Gibbs' word.

Of course, he thought, it was usually at around 0700, after Tony had clearly pulled an all-nighter at his desk. Not after a typical workday.

Gibbs slid his chair back. "Let's go. Grab your gear."

Focused now, Tony quickly turned back to his computer screen. "Just gotta finish this up."

"It can wait, DiNozzo." The glow of the monitor highlighted the pain and exhaustion written across Tony's face. Gibbs mentally kicked himself, Ziva's words coming back to him yet again. "I do not know what he is trying to do, but he is going to kill himself doing it, Gibbs!" He'd known she was right, known Tony was pushing himself too hard. But now, in the harsh light of the screen, it was as if he were seeing Tony for the first time that day. How had he let this go on for so long?

"No, really, Boss, I'm almost done." He peered closely at something on the screen, then blew out a breath of frustration and resumed typing at top speed - or what passed for top speed with DiNozzo.

"Tony." Gibbs waited, but either Tony had become so absorbed in what he was doing that he didn't hear him, or - more likely - he was hoping Gibbs would give up and let it go. "Tony!" Still no response.

Enough of this crap. He was obviously sick if he thought Gibbs would be so easily deterred. He slid his chair across the floor, came to a stop in front of Tony's desk, and reached out and unplugged the computer.

"Hey!" Yep. That got his attention. "What the hell are you doing?"

Gibbs raised a brow. "Want to try that again, DiNozzo?"

Tony took a deep breath. "I mean," he said slowly, deliberately, "I'm not finished yet. If you need to go, I can get myself home."

"This is not about me," Gibbs said. "Tony, c'mon - you're exhausted, you look like you're about to fall over."

"I'm. Fine." He turned away and began flipping through the file on his desk.

Fine. Sure, he was fine. Of course he was. Tony was always fine - he could be bleeding from a damn artery and he'd tell you he was fine, and probably make some sort of damn joke about it while backing away to make sure he didn't get blood on your shoes. "If I hear that word from you one more time..." Gibbs broke off. Tony's eyes were still glued to the file, carefully avoiding any eye contact. Gibbs had to stop himself from reaching out, from grabbing him by the chin and forcing Tony to look at him.

"What, exactly, are you trying to prove, DiNozzo?" The worry, the anger, the utter frustration that had been building all day - hell, all week - were dangerously close to the surface. "That you can push yourself till you collapse? That you can keep going until your body gives out? Because that's exactly what's going to happen - you understand that, right? All this treatment, the hell you've been through - well, just screw that! Forget doing your part to make sure this works - you'll just keep going until you're too weak to - "

"I am not weak." Tony nearly hissed the words, but Gibbs didn't miss them. Not weak. So it came back to this. What the hell have I taught him?

"I know you're not, Tony."

"No, I don't think you do." Finally, Tony looked at him. "I don't think you know that at all. You all think I'm someone who needs to be taken care of. Who can't handle it. Who isn't strong enough to get through a day at a goddamn desk!"

Gibbs felt like he'd been hit. "Is that how you think we see you?" he said quietly. His anger faded as understanding dawned. Did I do this? Did we do this?

"That is how you see me. Why else would you be trying to figure out how to get me out of the way?" Tony looked at his watch. "It's 1900, Boss," he said, his voice harsh, mocking. "Only five hours left in the week. If you're going to meet your deadline, you'd better get moving. I'm sure there's paperwork or something to sign - there's always paperwork, right?"

Deadline? "Tony, what - "

"Got someone lined up to replace me? Lee? Jardin? Sorry I didn't get my desk cleaned out." He stood, shoving his chair out of the way and grabbing his backpack.

"Tony -"

"Y'know, you could have at least told me to my face if you didn't think I could take it. Or were you hoping I'd just give up on my own? Save you the trouble of kicking me out? Well, let me make it easy - "

"Hey!" Gibbs' bark snapped him out of his tirade. "Sit down, Agent DiNozzo."

He glared at his boss for a second, then sat, staring at the floor. In the silence, Tony could hear his own breathing: rapid, shallow, furious.

"Are you through?" He had expected some show of anger on Gibbs' part. A headslap; yelling in return; perhaps the stare that made you wish for one of the first two. But there was none. Instead, Gibbs spoke in that quiet, calm voice that always made Tony wonder if someone had died - or was about to.

"Yeah." He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest.

"Good. Then would you mind telling what the hell you're talking about? What deadline?"

"You were supposed to have me out of here this week."

"Really. I must have missed that."

"Oh, don't give me that, Boss," Tony said. He was well aware that his tone would normally get him headslapped into next week, but what the hell. He'd already dug the hole; might as well jump on in. "I heard you talking to Ducky about replacing me."

"What?"

"At the hospital. Before Dr. Weiss came in. You said next week. Which is this week, since that was last week."

"So, according to that...timeline...I'm supposed to be replacing you this week."

"Right."

"Uh-huh. And you heard me say that?"

Tony nodded slowly.

"Then there's either a problem with your hearing or your memory, DiNozzo. I never said that."

"You said 'next week.'"

"You're right; I did. I told Ducky that I would wait and see how you were doing 'next week' before making any kind of decision about your leave."

"Oh." Tony's shoulders sagged, and he slumped in his chair. Oh, shit...and I just said...did I really just... He had to force himself to keep looking at Gibbs, and not let his head sink into his hands. Well, wasn't he well and truly screwed?

"Yeah. Oh."

Gibbs fixed him with a long, level stare until Tony felt himself starting to squirm. "So...um...did you make a decision?"

"Well, I don't know, DiNozzo. Looks like that's up to you."

"I...don't follow you, Boss."

"Let me spell it out for you, then. If you keep pulling this bullshit trying to work yourself into the ground to prove some point, I will yank your ass so fast your head will spin."

Too late, Tony thought. But, he'd said if...which meant there was another option. "And..."

"And if you get your head on straight and quit trying to ignore your limitations -"

Tony laughed nervously. "I don't have limitations, Boss..." Gibbs just looked at him. "Well, OK, maybe a few, but it's not like..."

Gibbs was clearly not amused. Tony cleared his throat. "Sorry. You were saying?"

"I was saying that if I can trust you to be smart about this, to take time out when you need to take it, then no, I'm not putting you on leave. If I can trust you to do that. And let me tell you, DiNozzo, I'm not feeling too confident about that right now."

All hint of humor gone, Tony said quietly, "I can do that."

"Can you?"

His immediate impulse was to reassure Gibbs that of course he could, but he stopped himself. Could he? It hadn't been so bad up until this last week, and he wasn't sure now if he was feeling worse from the chemo or from pushing himself so hard. If it wasn't just overwork...well, he'd be taking more downtime than before, and that did not sit easy with him.

But if the alternative was sitting at home, bored to death and waiting for...whatever...then hell, yes. He could swallow his pride, shut his mouth, and do what he had to do. If it meant he could stay...

"Yeah, Boss. I can."

"OK, then. We'll give it a shot. But I am damn serious, Tony. Be smart about this."

There was one other thing Tony needed to know. "Um...what about McGee and Ziva?"

"What about them?"

"Are you sure they want me here?"

"Well, yeah, DiNozzo. What makes you think they don't?"

"It's extra work for them. They've seemed kind of, y'know...annoyed..."

Gibbs gave him his patented look that said: I know you're not an idiot, but you're sure doing a good impression of one. "You're damn right they're annoyed. They've been watching you run yourself into the ground for the last week. They're worried."

Maybe that was true, but he was not about to become the object of anyone's pity. "Look, if I'm not going to be any good to the team - if it's just because you feel sorry for me - "

Gibbs snorted. "I'm not running a charity here. I wouldn't keep you if we didn't need you."

"But if I'm not pulling my weight...I mean, I can't be in the field as it is, if I have to cut my hours too..."

"Tony, I don't need 'someone who can be in the field'." Gibbs was starting to sound thoroughly exasperated. "I can always get an extra pair of hands to work a scene - that's not the issue. I told you a long time ago that you were irreplaceable, and I meant it. Don't make me say it again."

Tony bit back a smile. You just did.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Boss."