"I know, Tony."

The blank stare was unnerving. After waiting for a reaction of any kind and receiving none, Gibbs was almost ready to admit defeat, Tony finally stood up.

"I'll make some coffee," he finally muttered and disappeared in the kitchen, leaving Gibbs stare after him with his eyebrows furrowed. Worrying. Confused.

It took a while before Tony finally returned, with two cups of coffee; the kind of coffee that Gibbs loved, and while he didn't think he'd ever grow to love it, he'd grown to tolerate it. For all the poison that it was, it certainly gave a proper energy boost, which had lately been in desperate need of. Taking the offered cup, Gibbs kept his steady, careful stare on Tony who sat down far enough from him. The kid was calm, too calm, but in his gut he could feel that it was just the calm before storm.

"This reminds me of a movie..." Tony finally spoke. Whatever the movie was, he never finished that sentence. Taking a sip of the scalding coffee, he put the cup down on the coffee table. Then he laughed and stood up again, this time to pace the room. "Are you for real?" he spat out and finally turned around to face Gibbs. "Do you have any idea how hard I've tried keeping it to myself? Always making sure I don't slip by accident; worrying daily that I'll mess up something, worrying that maybe at some point I already have. Now you're telling me that all this time, you've known. Have you been secretly laughing at me behind my back?"

"I'd never—"

"Is that why Fornell has been giving me odd looks whenever we meet? I know how you two share your ex-wives and secrets like a pair of gossiping old women who have nothing better to do. I caught you two in one of those moments myself."

Gibbs flinched, but kept his peace for now. He's just upset, he reminded himself, and then kept reminding since his own temper was ready to be unleashed.

"Do you really have to know everything about me? What right to you have; it was my secret to tell or not to tell. Besides," Tony sneered, "you're the last person to share your secrets with anyone, hypocrite!" His eyes narrowed suddenly, remembering a certain look he had seen on Ducky's face a couple of times. "Does Ducky know you know?"

"It's not his—"

"Does. He. Know. Or does he not? Did he know?"

It wasn't supposed to go like this... Gibbs sighed inwardly and admitted grudgingly, "Yes."

Tony laughed again. "I should've known... Why do I trust people so easily?"

"It was one time only... He told me to tell you, but it was my choice to not say anything."

"You don't get it, do you, Gibbs? I would have wanted to know, yet he kept it from me. I had the right to know. All this time I've made a fool out of myself, not knowing what you heard. All those times when I talked about my trust issues, and he kept that from me. I trusted him. He should've told me the moment he found out. You should've told me."

"Tony..."

"I'm going out for a run. You know where the door is, show yourself out. For your sake I hope you're gone by the time I return."

"Tony..." Gibbs' pleading voice wasn't heard as Tony disappeared to change his clothes. Then, grabbing the keys, he left the apartment without even glancing toward the older man.

Gasping for his breath and trying to keep the nausea away, Tony staggered upstairs. Feeling dizzy, it took him dropping the keys several times before he finally managed to open the door. To his great relief, the apartment was quiet with no Gibbs in sight as he made his unsteady way toward the bathroom. He'd been gone for a long time so maybe the man finally got the message...

Neither the run nor the shower made him feel any better; he felt betrayed, and wasn't that just grand. How many times did he have to go through this, feeling this way? He had trusted Ducky and now he had no idea how to deal with him now. He'd trusted enough to even share a few details from his 'dream'. Not all, or even the big things, but some. It would be so much easier if he didn't care. Didn't matter how much anger he still had in him—and occasionally hatred—he would never stop caring. He just couldn't. It was against everything he was, against his nature.

Holding his hands against the slowly warming tiles, he let the water run over his head and back, letting it wash away some of the anxiety. Even if it was just a momentary relief, he needed it.

God, why did he have to be this way..?

- DREAM REALITY FLASHBACK -

"Come on, DiNozzo. I know you can do better than that," Gibbs spoke, observing his new Agent while the kid was shooting at the target.

Scowling at his boss, Tony took his position again. He had shot perfectly; what more did he want from him?

Several shots and one slightly mutinous smiley face later, Gibbs smiled proudly. "Attaboy."

Tony couldn't help it, he was beaming at the rare praise.

"Do it again with your left hand."

Bastard...

It took several hours before the man was finally pleased.

"That'll do for now. Let's find something to eat. It's on me. What do you want?" Gibbs spoke as they walked outside, side by side, which happened so naturally and like it was always meant to be this way.

Tony hesitated for a moment and then he glanced toward the man. He was pretty sure he'd end up with a head slap, which he was starting to get used to, not that he would ever admit it. After all, as he had learned, the man only slapped his head when he actually deserved it. Right? "Pizza? And hot chocolate?"

Gibbs shook his head, looking amused for some reason. "Pizza and hot chocolate it is... And coffee for me. I know just the place for that."

They ended up spending the next hour together again; eating, drinking and talking. As if it was something they'd been doing for years, instead of months. It took few more months for Tony to realize how rare seeing such side with Gibbs really was. Although he kept denying that to ever be true, he found himself thinking how it had to be the kind of relationship a father would have with his son. Thoughts like that were too dangerous, especially if he slipped and spoke them out... It would be crossing a line, which he couldn't risk.

Stepping out of the shower, Tony wiped away the steam on the mirror, staring at his pale reflection, at the stranger staring back at him with dull, tired eyes. When he smiled, the man in the mirror returned it. He wore on one of his flirty faces and it did the same. He put on his stone hard, cold face and then he got mad. It shouldn't be this easy.

By the time he came back to his senses, he didn't see his reflection anymore. The mirror was broken—what was it, seven years of bad luck? With his usual 'luck', he might just believe it—and his fist was bleeding. He almost laughed at the realization that even in the midst of his loss of control, he had used his left hand instead of the right one, which was his best shooting hand. Taking one of the towels, he wrapped his hand in it. "I wish I was cold as a stone..." he murmured.

After a while, after having dressed up and with his hand patched up, Tony realized he really had to eat something or he'd end up passing out on top of everything else. He regretted it; walking in the kitchen, he saw Gibbs, sitting behind the table and calmly reading a newspaper. There was a box of pizza on the table, which was most likely cold by now or he would have smelled it.

"You were gone for a pretty long time. Was starting to wonder if I should go out and look for you," Gibbs said and looked up, glancing once at the sloppily bandaged hand, but didn't comment on it. It made Tony realize that the man most likely had heard him beating the crap out of his mirror. He wasn't sure, but he might have even yelled some. He felt mortified and it was by sheer willpower alone that he wasn't blushing.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Tony glared. "What are you doing here, Gibbs?"

"Waiting for you. We still haven't finished that conversation."

"I have nothing else to say to you."

"Well, I have."

"Do whatever you want; I'm going to bed."

"Sit down!" Gibbs growled and Tony glared even more, but found himself obeying it without even realizing it at first. Like a good puppy, learning to obey his master. Cursed be it all... He was nobody's dog or a slave. Least of all Gibbs'.

Putting away the newspaper, Gibbs pushed the pizza toward Tony. "Eat."

"Not hungry right now."

"Not negotiable. You eat or I will feed you myself."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Don't test me, DiNozzo."

Slowly, Tony reached his hand out and took one slice of pizza. One bite was enough to show him how hungry he truly was. Before he knew it, he had already finished five pieces of it. To make it even worse, it was just the way he liked it, even if it was cold. He really hated the bastard right now. It would be easier if that's all he felt.

Gibbs was pleased. At least something went right for a change. "Don't be mad at Ducky. He only wanted me to be the one to say it."

Frustrated, Tony grit his teeth. How hard was it to understand simple words because they had to keep beating the same old, probably dead horse? "I trusted him."

"And he didn't betray it. It's all on me." When Tony didn't say anything, only ate some more pizza, Gibbs took it as his cue to keep talking. "I don't claim to understand this dream of yours. Part of me is still trying to find some other explanation, but then you know things about me that only I know. Stuff that's not written anywhere and things I have never told anyone... I know you're mad at something, at me, over something I've done in some dream of yours of all things. I'm not telling you to not be mad, but... could you try to go a little easier on me, see it from my perspective? I don't even know what it is this dream version of me has done to you. To me it is just a dream. Maybe it is something more, I don't know..."

Gibbs was silent for a moment, giving a moment for the words to hopefully sink in, and by now Tony was actually listening. He glanced at the emotionless mask, which as usual, didn't betray whatever the young man was thinking about. "Come on, Tony... Talk to me. What did I do? For two years I've tried to figure it out, but you never let me close enough. There's always this... All those different masks on your face; a wall between me and you. You treat everything like it's some undercover situation."

Tony returned one of the last pieces he had been eating in the box and contemplated whether the consequences of shoving it in the man's face would be worth it.

"Is your whole life just some act, a movie script you follow? Aren't you getting tired of it? What kind of life is it?"

When Tony spoke, the bitterness in his tone was cutting, "What do you know? I mean, you're Gibbs, the mighty badass Gibbs who can do nothing wrong. Everyone seems to follow your lead, no matter what you do. Us lesser beings can't keep up with you. With the way things are, I'm sure there has to be an altar somewhere, built in your honor. I bet Abby knows where it is, if she didn't build it."

"That's not true..."

"And me? I'm the loyal servant who makes you look even better and fixes, sometimes hides the crap for you, keeping your rotten reputation as clean as I possibly can, to make sure that everyone thinks your bite is no worse than your bark. God help me if I don't do my duty. 'Let's hand it all to DiNozzo, he can take it. Let's use him until he ends up dead, quits or goes mad.' I can't do that anymore, Gibbs. I don't have that kind of reserves anymore; I'm all out. You need to find another fool to take the part."

Gibbs was silent. The sharp, cutting words were full of wounded anger and hurt, and he couldn't help but wonder, "Is that now the dream you talking?"

Tony laughed. "The dream me? There is no dream me! Even if it's true that my dream and the reality are two separate things, there is only one me. Be it just a dream or whatever else, to me it's all very much real; whether in my head or not, I lived it. I don't know, maybe it's meant to be a lesson of some kind to me, a warning to not let certain things happen. What do I know, maybe I am crazy."

"You're not crazy."

"I'm not so sure about that, Gibbs," Tony spoke with weariness, not a hint of anger nor bitterness anymore. He sounded just so plain tired and for some reason it scared Gibbs. He had heard that tone of voice before and seen that same look in those eyes; seen it on, in people who had ended up taking their own lives or tried to. He hoped and prayed that he was overthinking, that Tony really was just too tired to talk about this, nothing else.

Hesitating, Gibbs reached out his hand over the table and took Tony's good hand in his; he frowned at how cold it was. To his relief, the young man didn't pull it away. "You're not crazy."

"I'm tired, boss..."

"I know, so talk to me. You don't have to tell me everything. Just let me help you share the burden. At least some of it. I don't care how crazy it might be. You said it; to you it is very real, doesn't matter what I think." He smiled ruefully. "It might even prevent future explosive moments between us, if we talked." He grimaced, functional mute that he was. "If we tried at least."

Tony frowned and almost pulled his hand away. "It matters to me."

"I wouldn't, couldn't think any less of you. I wanted you as my partner from the moment I met you. I couldn't understand why, but now I do. Do you honestly think that after two years I would be willing to let you go without one big fight? Have you forgotten what a bastard I was just a little while ago when I thought you'd be leaving soon?"

Tony smiled slightly at the memory, but the frown was back before it could become a full smile.

"Don't worry about what I may or may not think. You may be good at reading me and know some secrets about me, but you can't read my mind. Just like I can't read yours, no matter what people may think. Don't write us off so soon. I know I'm not easy to deal with, but I'm not willing to give up so soon. It may be easier to give up, but what if you end up regretting it later? I know I will."

He knew the man was right. Of course he knew that. Tony closed his eyes for a moment, his shoulders drooping. Why couldn't he just not care?

"Talk to me, son... Talk to me."

Tony's eyes flew open.