Chapter Nineteen

In the wake of Gibbs' apology, Tony thought about making a joke about the Four Horseman approaching, but he didn't really feel much like joking. He wasn't too sure what he did feel, honestly. Gibbs had just apologized to him. To him. Anthony DiNozzo Jr. That had to be one for the books. It sure as hell had never happened before, and Tony doubted it would ever happen again. But he had said it. And it sounded like he meant it. He wouldn't have said it if he didn't mean it. In fact, in all the time Tony had known him, he'd never heard him say it at all. Not once. Not to anybody.

That had to count for something right?

But there was so much hurt and anger and bitterness between them, and so many things left unresolved. Tony still wanted answers to a lot of questions, and he was determined to get them. For the moment, he pushed aside Gibbs' apology, not sure what to make of it. He went back to the issue at hand, the way Gibbs had left without a word. He stood, moving around in agitation. "At first, I thought you just needed some time, you know? You'd just been blown up, and in a coma, and lost your memories, and, hey, that's got to take a toll on anybody, right?" His weak attempt at humor sounded lame to his own ears. "I figured you'd take a few weeks off to recover, but then you'd call, or check in, or – something. I don't know. But you didn't."

Gibbs faced him, saw the wounded eyes that were fixed on his, read the depth of emotion in that gaze, and cursed himself once again for how badly he had messed up. He knew DiNozzo had abandonment issues, knew they were brought on by the death of his mother followed by years of neglect by his bastard of a father. It had taken many nights and a fair amount of alcohol to pry even the barest of details from his agent about his childhood, and he'd only touched the tip of the iceberg. To have left Tony in this manner was the cruelest form of treatment he could have managed.

"I needed to talk to you, Gibbs," Tony continued. "It wasn't going so well, you know? Abby fell apart on a daily basis. You shattered her world when you left. McGee and Ziva – they found any and every excuse to stick it to me. They hated that I was in charge. They couldn't respect me, and I don't blame them for that. I know what I am."

Gibbs bristled at Tony's casual dismissal of his abilities, and moved to jump in with his opinion, but Tony continued before he'd opened his mouth.

"And I was trying to deal with the fact that you'd left. Abby wasn't the only one whose world was rocked." His face flushed as he admitted the embarrassing truth. "Pretty sure it's no secret to anyone that I looked up to you. You taught me everything I know about being a Federal Agent. You were always there, keeping an eye on me, watching my six, head-slapping me into shape. I relied on you, probably a lot more than I should. And suddenly, that was all gone; I had nobody to turn to, and I couldn't even take time to deal with it, because I had to worry about being there for everybody else, whether they wanted me or not." He sighed and walked over to the boat, running a hand idly over one of the ribs.

"The point is, Gibbs, the rest of them - they will never be my team. Just not gonna happen." Tony purposely blocked out the memory of how he had felt just before Gibbs had returned for good, how things had improved and it had finally seemed like he might be able to call the team his own. "They're yours, through and through. It's you they respond to, it's you they respect. I was only, always, just a poor substitute." For some reason, this brought a smile to his face. "I agree with you. Pretty sure you and I can't work together any more. Things have just been . . . off . . . since you came back. I guess we lost our groove, you know? But if anyone should be leaving, it's me, not you. I've still got a few weeks of sick leave coming. I'll look into a transfer, or see if I can't find a job somewhere else. Resume won't even need much updating." The smile still pasted on his face was starting to feel distinctly false.

"No." Gibbs slammed the Mason jar down onto the workbench, paying no heed when the liquid sloshed over his hand. "No way in hell. You are not leaving this job. You've worked hard to get where you are, and you've got a hell of a future ahead of you. I'm not letting you give that up, just so I can hang onto a career that's already past its expiration date." Fire burned in his eyes at the thought that this young man would sacrifice his own needs and desires so that Gibbs wouldn't be put out. He knew Tony had a habit of putting his well-being behind that of anyone else, and he shouldn't have been surprised by the offer, but pigs would fly before he'd accept that option.

But Tony was not about to allow his anger to be outdone. "I told you already, Gibbs, that it doesn't matter! They're not my team! I'm not their leader! You already know how it is. I play the fool, and that's all people see. I get that, I really do. It's my choice. It's what I do. But we both know that's not who I am. I always counted on you to see beyond that, to know the difference. But somewhere along the way, you forgot that."

Gibbs sighed. "I forgot a lot of things, Tony," he reminded quietly.

"Pretty crappy excuse, Gibbs," Tony began, and then stopped, and really thought about it. He had felt like the amnesia was just a convenient excuse at times, but the reality was that Gibbs had well and truly forgotten about them, and that had never been his choice. He'd called Tony 'McGee' often enough during the early days for Tony to know that the memory loss was real and completely out of the older man's control, something that undoubtedly rankled the team leader, who had more discipline and control in everything in his life than anyone Tony had ever met.

He realized that maybe he should cut him a little slack on this one. "Except, maybe it's not. I've been kind of blaming you for forgetting. Guess that's not really fair."

"No, maybe not. I never chose to forget you. Not any of you, and I wish to hell that I hadn't. But there's a hell of a lot else you can blame me for, and you'd be right on every one of them."

"Like?" Tony already knew the answer to this question, but he wanted to see what Gibbs thought.

Gibbs held up a hand and started ticking off on his fingers. "Leaving you to pick up the mess I'd left behind. Leaving you with no way to contact me. Leaving you with Abby, McGee, Ziva and Ducky, knowing they'd all be looking to you to hold them together. Coming back for Ziva. And turning around and leaving again without so much as a goodbye. Coming back for Fornell." Here he raised his face and looked the younger man squarely in the eye. "Coming back from retirement and taking over the team again; 'dumping all your shit on your desk' as a way of telling you. That was inexcusable, even for me. You deserved better than that."

Tony let out a huff at the list Gibbs gave, torn between being grateful the other man at least realized how much he had hurt Tony, and being angry all over again. "Are you trying to get me pissed at you? Cuz I gotta warn you, at this point, it won't take much."

Gibbs allowed a half smile. "No Tony. I'm not trying to get you pissed. I'm trying to tell you it's all right that you already are. You've got a hell of a lot of reasons to be. I treated you like crap, DiNozzo. I know that. I've treated you like crap for a long time, way before Galib or the amnesia or any of that stuff. I've treated you like crap, because you've always taken it, and it never seemed to bug you. But I'm sorry for it now. I'm sorry for leaving you without so much as a goodbye. Sorry for coming back without telling you and tossing all your stuff on your desk, like it didn't matter. Like I didn't care about the fact that you'd kept everything running smoothly while I was running away in Mexico. Like I didn't know or care how good of a job you had done. And I'm sorry I've been avoiding you since I came back for good!" The volume of Gibbs' words had risen as they continued to roll of his tongue, and the sudden silence was abrupt. He grabbed the Mason jar and refilled it, no longer caring about staying fully sober. He needed the fortitude.

Tony wasn't sure what to say. The number of apologies in that statement, from a man who claimed never to make them, wasn't lost on him. But even if it was crazy, he still wanted more than an 'I'm sorry.' He wanted to understand why. He knew that if there was any hope of salvaging something from this relationship, he needed to know why the other man acted as he had. He wanted to believe there could be a reason for it, wanted desperately to believe it. Because if there had been no real reason, if Gibbs had acted the way he had simply because he was the bastard he'd always claimed to be, than maybe Tony had never really known him at all. And that thought hurt, because it meant that the entire friendship he thought they once shared had truly only been one-sided. The thought of it sickened Tony, that he could have been so blind. He prayed it wasn't true, that there really had been a foundation to their friendship. But he needed answers, and he wasn't afraid to ask the questions.

"So why did you?" he spoke quietly.

Gibbs turned back in confusion. "Why did I what?" he asked, uncertain which offense DiNozzo was referring to.

DiNozzo waved his arm aimlessly. "Any of them. All of them." He wasn't looking for excuses, but he was determined to know the reasons behind it all.

Gibbs shook his head. He abandoned his drink and walked over to the stairs, sitting heavily on the landing. He told himself a hundred times that if Tony gave him the chance to explain, he would, and he would do it right, but now that the time was here, he was having trouble finding the words.

"I told you why I left the first time," he hedged.

"You did," Tony replied, not giving any quarter. "Now tell me why you took off again after you cleared Ziva from that assassination charge without so much as a goodbye."

Gibbs smiled slightly at Tony's response, saddened that he truly saw it that way. "We cleared her, DiNozzo. Not just me. We. And I left because I had a hot tub to finish." He watched as Tony's eyes darkened, and knew immediately he had said the wrong thing. "No, wait," he backtracked. "I didn't mean that. I just . . . " he sighed and sent a prayer heavenward that the words would come out right. "I wasn't ready yet. I needed more time before I could come back. I still wasn't sure coming back was the right thing to do. I didn't want to return, only to discover it had been a huge mistake, and I really should have stayed retired. I needed more time to figure it out."

"So you just took off again? Without so much as a goodbye? You know, you could have just told me then what you said just now. I would have gotten it, Gibbs. Instead, you left without a word. Why the hell would you do that?"

"Because if I had told you I was going to leave, I was pretty sure you'd be able to change my mind!" His anger came through in his words.

Tony studied him carefully. "Would that have been such a bad thing?"

Gibbs shook his head resignedly. "Maybe," he admitted. "If I had come back before I was ready to, I wouldn't have been any good to anybody. I could see that things were going pretty smoothly without me there. I could see you were doing every bit as well as I knew you would leading the team. I didn't want to come in and screw that up if I was just going to end up leaving again. And if I came back before I was ready to, I'd always wonder if it had been the right choice. I needed to know." He waited as Tony listened thoughtfully.

"Okay," the younger man finally answered, leaning back against the framework of the boat. "I kind of get that, I guess. What about everything else? The way you came back, and the way you've been treating me like crap since then."

Gibbs snorted in self-disgust. "Not sure I have much of an excuse for that. I think I just wanted everything back the way it was, and I was pig-headed enough to believe that if I acted like I'd never been gone, maybe everybody else would too. Not one of my brighter ideas. But I didn't plan it that way, Tony. The night I told Jen I'd come back to stay - I was just sitting there at four in the morning at the desk that used to be mine, and when I opened the drawer for a pen, I found my own medals that you've always kept staring back at me. It was like they were mocking me. Some hero, huh? So much for never leaving a man behind. I turned tail and ran at the first bump in the road. I saw them there, and I just snapped. I grabbed them up and took them over to your old desk. And then, I didn't stop. Just grabbed everything else that reminded me of what an ass I'd been and shoved it all out of the way, just so I wouldn't be faced with my own failure. But I never even thought of how it would look to you."

He pulled a hand over his face, regret etched into his features. "I wish I had. I wish I had pulled you aside and explained to you that my coming back had nothing to do with your ability to run the team. That it wasn't in any way a demotion. You deserved to know that much at least." He laughed bitterly. "Jen even told me that I should let you know you'd done a good job while I was gone. I wish I'd listened to her."

Tony felt his anger softening as the sound of Gibbs' words finally soothed his wounded soul. He had felt it had been a slap in the face, the way Gibbs had just moved everything over without a word. Seeing McGee's gleefully evil smile hadn't helped. And though a part of him didn't want to let Gibbs off the hook, he could see the regret was sincere. And he was tired of fighting. Tired of feeling like his family had been torn in two. He was tired of being at odds with Gibbs. He wanted their friendship back. More than anything, if he was being honest. "Did you just admit the Director was right?" Tony asked with a small smile, coming over slowly to sit beside Gibbs on the steps.

Gibbs cracked a smile. "First time for everything."

Tony nodded. "Lot of firsts tonight," he said, referring to the apology he'd received. They sat in a silence that was almost companionable for several minutes before Tony spoke again, not fully ready yet to move on. "And the rest? The way you've kind of ignored me since you came back? Pretty sure that wasn't just my imagination." He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck in his discomfort, hoping he didn't sound as if he was only whining now.

Gibbs nodded, willing to shoulder the blame for this as well. "It wasn't your imagination. I was . . . avoiding you, I guess. Just like I avoided the sight of those medals. You were another reminder of how much I had mucked things up. I knew I had disappointed you, and rather than just apologize and get it out in the open, I decided to stick my head in the sand and ignore that anything was wrong. And look where that got us."

Tony looked at him questioningly, not able to follow his train of thought.

"You nearly died, DiNozzo. Again," he said in exasperation.

Tony looked at him incredulously. "But that was hardly your fault, Gibbs! Don't get me wrong – I'm willing to blame you for a lot of what we've talked about tonight. But not that. Not your fault I got sick, and not your fault I got shot. Just part of the job."

Gibbs refused to give in. "You wouldn't have been shot if I hadn't taken you out there without proper backup. Which I would have, if I had listened to your theory about the wife being a suspect. And you wouldn't have been out there if I had realized you were getting sick. I know what getting sick means for you, and I have no desire to watch you go through that a third time."

"You know now, but you didn't know then."

Gibbs looked at him in irritation. "What?"

"Gibbs, you didn't even remember I'd had the plague, so you wouldn't have had any reason not to take me just because I wasn't feeling well. If anything, I should have told you I wasn't up to it!" Tony knew immediately those last words were a mistake, but it wasn't like he could take them back now. He cringed inwardly at the thought of incurring Gibbs' wrath, and was surprised and somehow disappointed when it didn't come.

"Yeah, you should have told me," Gibbs agreed without heat. "You take way too many risks with your health, Tony. I know I want to keep up our closure rate, but it's not worth you risking your life for, got it?" When Tony didn't immediately reply, Gibbs bumped their knees together. "I said, you got it?"

"I guess," Tony agreed, but Gibbs was pretty sure it was more for form's sake than anything else. "But we risk our lives all the time for this job. What we do is important. The justice we bring about for the families of the victims is important."

"Not saying it's not, DiNozzo. And I know better than anyone that you will always give one hundred and ten percent to this job, even if it means sacrificing yourself. But that doesn't always make it right." He thought hard about what he wanted to say, and decided it had really all been said before, only DiNozzo had slept through it. He had made a promise back there in the hospital that he would repeat himself to the younger man once he was awake. He found the words came more easily the second time around. "I rely on you. You need to know that. I always have, since the day you came to NCIS from Baltimore. I've never had a better second than you. Nobody out there watches my six the way you do. I don't have to worry about walking into a scene when you're by my side, and if it all goes to hell, I know you'll be right where I need you to be. I need you to keep me in line when I start going all 'Captain Ahab' from time to time. Need you to keep thinking outside the box and coming up with leads the rest of us miss. I need you to keep making those stupid movie references and cracking off-color jokes when things get a little too dark, because you're just about the only one these days who can still make me laugh."

Tony smiled at this, insanely pleased. "I knew you liked my movie references."

Gibbs gave him a mock glare. "Don't get cocky."

Tony's grin only grew.

Gibbs fought to smother his own grin in return, but inside he was smiling. He felt something loosen inside his chest, and after a moment, he realized it was hope. He was starting to think maybe he and Tony would be able to patch this up after all. The idea that perhaps they could recapture what had been lost was a light at the end of a long and dark tunnel. He wasn't finished yet, though.

"I meant what I said before, Tony. You are a damn good agent. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I know you don't always see yourself that way, and I know McGee and Ziva give you a hard time. Don't let them get to you. And if they do, then I want you to remember something: I have faith in you. Don't ever forget that."

Tony swallowed nervously, uncertain he was hearing what he thought he was, what he had craved hearing for as long as he could remember. "You mean that, Boss?"

"Wouldn't have said it if I didn't." He studied the younger man. "You believe me?"

He hesitated. "Trying to," Tony admitted.

Gibbs knew it would take time, and a whole lot of positive reinforcement before he could convince Tony of the truth of that statement. He was beginning to think maybe they'd have that time after all. There was still one more thing he needed to address before he felt they could begin the process of putting this whole mess behind them. Hopefully, they'd come out stronger for it on the other side, but the words were still difficult. "I'm serious about you taking better care of yourself too, Tony. No more unnecessary risks. I told you, I'm depending on you."

"Yes, Boss."

Gibbs' heart lifted at the familiar term. "I mean it, DiNozzo. Already lost one family. Don't want to go through that again. We clear?" He waited, not dropping his gaze, holding out hope that the young man would understand exactly what he couldn't come right out and say. He could see that he'd caught Tony off guard. These weren't things they talked about often, if ever. But he couldn't take a chance that they would end up in this place again sometime down the road. He needed DiNozzo to understand exactly the place he held in his boss's life. He was gratified to see the truth beginning to shine in Tony's eyes.

"Crystal, Boss."

~0~

Tony felt about ready to collapse. He'd been heading off to bed over an hour ago, long before he'd come down to the basement for the first time in months. He wasn't sure he had the strength to make it back up the stairs now, and he wasn't sure he had the courage to ask for help. Everything they had talked about tonight had left him reeling. So many things had been said; things he'd longed to hear for years, but never really dreamed he would. After the last few months, he would have been certain that the man he saw as more of a father to him than his own flesh and blood never felt the same way, and never would.

He was never more glad to be wrong, and for the rest of his life, he could confidently carry the knowledge that Gibbs thought he was family. That word held more meaning to Tony than it did to most, probably because it was something he'd never really had. He did now, though, and he would never take that gift for granted. There was only one thing that still worried him.

"So, um, what about your resignation?" he questioned.

Gibbs felt the warmth of the agent beside him where their shoulders barely touched, and he leaned in for the briefest of seconds. "Not quite ready to go just yet, if that's all right with you. Thinking I'll stick around for a while."

Tony nodded profusely. "Good. That's good." He paused, his tired brain trying to think. "So, um, does that mean you want me to . . . "

"You even think about leaving and I'll hunt you down and shoot you myself. Got it?"

Tony smiled. "Got it."

Gibbs stood to his feet and faced the recovering agent. "I'm not promising it will be all smooth sailing, DiNozzo. I'm sure I'll screw up plenty. I didn't come to be called a bastard by accident. And I know there will be times when you drive me up a wall. But when I do mess up, I'm counting on you to bring it to my attention. You do that, and I figure we'll manage to get our groove back."

Tony looked up at him delightedly. "Did you actually just make a movie reference? And not just any reference, but a reasonably current pop-culture reference for a film that I can't believe you've heard of, much less seen?"

Gibbs smiled and held out a hand. "Ex-wife number two. I think. Maybe three. It's all still a little fuzzy."

Tony looked at him warily. "How fuzzy?" he asked, concerned.

Gibbs took him by the arm and helped him up the stairs. "Don't worry. I remember the important stuff."

He led his Senior Field Agent gently up the second set of stairs to the bedrooms, pausing at the door to the room that would always be Tony's. "If you think you can drag your butt out of bed at a decent hour tomorrow, I might be persuaded to make pancakes," he tempted.

Tony's spirits lifted immediately. Gibbs' pancakes were legendary. "Sweet. I might just sleep down in the kitchen tonight to be safe."

Gibbs turned him and gave him a gentle shove into the room. "Your own bed will do. Now go, before I change my mind."

"On it, Boss," came Tony's sleepy reply.

Gibbs hadn't heard anything that good in a long time.

TBC . . .

A/N: Can't believe we're almost at the end! Epilogue to be posted tomorrow...