Gibbs snarled in frustration as Tony sent call after call to voicemail.

If the situation he faced wasn't so bizarre he would be itching to kill the kid for being so blatantly unreachable. As it was, the pointed rejection of communication only served to make the molten pit of anxiety in his stomach bubble like menacing magma. Sitting alone in his dimly lit living room, he tried to think clearly as to what the hell he should do. He could always go over to Tony's place and demand answers. In normal circumstances, that is exactly what he would do, but his gut told him that to do so now would be disastrous. Helplessness dogged him as he tried to understand what he had done wrong. He looked over at the paddle where it lay discarded on the sofa across from him and felt a hatred for the implement boil inside him. Tony could never know how much it cost him every time he had to use the damn thing.

He could suddenly no longer bear to be alone with his thoughts.

The night sky was an inky black as he violently pulled out of his driveway on a journey to nowhere. His knuckles were white against the dim light from his dashboard as he drove. Avoiding the turn off to Tony's place with extreme difficulty, he turned his car in the completely opposite direction with his teeth on edge. His brow was furrowed as his brain continued to work double time. He was sure he hadn't been too hard on Tony. He'd given him a thorough padding, sure, but it was nothing more than the kid was used to and what he deserved for his boneheaded stunt. He'd been in complete control and hadn't gone overboard. Of that, he was sure. His mind turned to the chewing out he'd given his Second in Command. He had been firm and unrelenting but, like the paddling, it was commensurate with what his SFA had done. He knew Tony well enough to know it was more often his words that hurt the boy than any spanking and was always careful to treat his tongue as carefully as any paddle.

He blinked when the car came to a halt at a very familiar location.

He had been driving completely and utterly on auto pilot.

Sighing, he glanced at the time on the dashboard. Ten p.m. was not exactly a sociable hour for a house call but he'd often called a lot later. Slipping out of the driver's seat he marched up the driveway and softly rapped on the ornate door. Answering only a moment or two later, the long suffering Dr. Mallard pulled his tartan dressing grown around him with a frown.

"Which one is it this time, Jethro?"

"Tony."

"Surprise, surprise," the good Doctor murmured before stepping aside. "Alright then, come in from the cold and let us commence consult number three hundred and one on young Anthony."

Gibbs flashed his old friend a rare look of gratitude before making his way into the living room and slumping down on the sofa. Ducky busied himself making coffee as he warmed himself by the cheery fire, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the Corgi next to him. He recognised it as the one who had an entirely inappropriate sexual fascination with his leg and he wasn't about to turn his back on the opportunistic dog. Accepting the steaming hot cup of coffee from Ducky a moment later, he drank deeply as the kindly older man settled down in the armchair opposite.

"What has Anthony done this time?"

Gibbs recounted the whole sorry tale from the beginning, finishing up at the end of Tony's whooping and feeling the misery in him intensify. Ducky looked at the wearied looking Team Lead with pursed lips and a raised brow.

"Well, as you know I am usually the first to plea for mercy on young Anthony's behalf. However, I think in this instance he more than earned himself a chastised backside. Why, if Palmer had done something like that I would have caned him into the middle of next week. Anthony knows better than to go so entirely off the reservation. Which brings me to my confusion… what is the problem? Surely Anthony isn't contesting the deserved nature of his punishment?"

Gibbs felt a small flicker of relief ignite in him. As sure as he was in his own abilities to lead his people, he was self-aware enough to know he could be an overly hard hard-ass and it was comforting to know Ducky would deal with his protégé in a similar fashion in a similar situation.

"That's just it, Duck, I don't know what the problem is. Tony was fine when I was chewing his ass out for his stunt. He knew why he was in hot water and knew what he had done was wrong, not to mention stupid as hell. He didn't fight me on his punishment and was fine when I was paddling his ass … well, you know, as fine as anyone can be when they're getting their butt tanned. Everything was normal until it was over. I went to give him a hug and he… freaked out. He pushed me away. Hard. It was like a switch flipped in his brain or something. A definite Jekyll and Hyde deal."

Gibbs swallowed in misery at the memory.

"That has never happened before, Duck," he continued softly, staring into the flickering flames before him. "Tony always needs a quick hug and an atta boy after I've had to roast his butt. He has never once pushed me away so I knew something was wrong. Really wrong. I asked him about it but he refused to talk to me. He did that damned thing he always does when… when things aren't great between us. You know the thing – calling me Gibbs instead of Boss. Speaking like a picture-perfect Agent, straight out of the NCIS manual."

Ducky felt extreme sympathy ripple through him at the hurt in his dear friend's voice.

"You know he does that when he's trying to enforce distance between you both, Jethro."

Gibbs nodded with a sigh.

"I know. So, I keep pressing and pressing. I get nowhere. He basically tries to bolt from my house and I stop him. I order him to tell me what the hell is going on. He doesn't even answer me, just stares at my open front door like he's in some kind of a trance or something. I grip his shoulder to try and get him to snap to and…"

Gibbs cleared his throat but the rock of misery lodged there merely dug in deeper.

"…and he went berserk," he continued miserably. "Threw my hand off. Told me to never touch him again… with some pretty colourful language to boot. Stormed out of my house and drove off like a bat out of hell. I called and called, he sent them all to voicemail. I debated going over there but my gut is telling me that would be a serious mistake."

He shrugged uncomfortably.

"I couldn't just sit in that living room trying to figure this all out. So, here I am."

He fell silent then, unaccustomed to using so many words all at once. Ducky, for his part, was forcing his mind to work past the dulling effects of his nightly cocoa and think hard on his friend's behalf. Setting down his mug, he learned forward and stared at Gibbs intently.

"You say he was fine after you chewed him out?"

Gibbs nodded immediately.

"Yup. He was fine. Obviously he wasn't thrilled with being reamed but he had the same kind of expression as he always does."

He sighed.

"Like a damned puppy that's been caught chewing a new pair of slippers. Complete with the big puppy dog eyes."

Ducky considered this briefly.

"Are you sure, Jethro? I have full confidence that you administered a thorough but restrained spanking and so it seems to me that whatever flipped that switch in Tony's head happened before you set paddle to behind. Think back. Think back to everything you said and Tony's facial expressions and body language as and when you said it. Think hard."

Gibbs stared in frustration.

"Jeez, Duck, how the hell am I supposed to remember everything I said never mind the kid's damned reactions to it? I laid into him, ok? Reminded him of his duties as an SFA and how he had breached every damn one of them. I've given the lecture a hundred times. It doesn't really change that much from screw up to screw up."

Ducky held up his hands.

"Remain calm, Jethro. I know that you are frustrated but if you want to get to the root of this problem you're going to have to do a little forensic reconstruction. I trust you care amply for the boy to put your ego to one side in order to do that?"

Gibbs accepted the mild rebuke with reasonable grace.

"Fine," he mumbled irritably. "What, specifically, do you want me to do?"

"Think," Ducky countered. "Think hard. Did you say something, anything, that you normally wouldn't? Did you perhaps go below the belt without meaning to whilst in the midst of very justifiable anger? Cast your mind back. You're in the living room. You're no doubt standing with your arms crossed glaring at Tony who's probably hanging his head towards the floor. What are you saying?"

Gibbs, despite his reservations, closed his eyes and cast his mind back.

"I'm laying into him… I'm furious that he put himself in danger. That he disobeyed me. I'm warning him that if it ever happens again he'll wish he'd never been born. I'm reminding him that he has an example to set to McGee and the girls."

He looked up with a shrug.

"The usual. Then I tell him to bend over the sofa and get the paddle."

Ducky held up a restraining hand.

"Is that all? Are you absolutely positive that you didn't say anything else before you ordered Tony to bend over?"

Gibbs rooted around in his brain with a furrowed brow before nodding.

"I'm sure, yeah. Well, I did say one thing. He was stalling. Quibbling about bending over. Bargaining with me like he always does. I lost my temper a little bit. I snapped at him to quit his damned crying before I gave him something to really cry about…"

Ducky's face fell and Gibbs looked at him in confusion.

"What?" he said somewhat defensively. "It's just an expression. My old man used to say it to me all the time."

Ducky chewed his lip before clearing his throat and speaking sombrely.

"I fear I know what is wrong , Jethro, and it's not good… it's not good at all. You see-"

Gibbs' shrill ringtone cut him off. Fishing the phone out of his pocket, he frowned as McGee's name flashed up at him. It wasn't like Tim to ring so late unless there was something urgent that couldn't wait till morning.

"What's up, McGee?"

The awkward silence on the other end of the line did not sit well with him.

"McGee! Use your words, damnit."

"Uhh… Boss?"

Gibbs closed his eyes and begged God to grant him the damned serenity..

"Yes," he said slowly. "What is it? Are you ok?"

He could hear the nervousness in his youngest boy's voice. It was nigh on deafening.

"Boss, Tony just left my apartment. He gave me his badge and gun and told me that I was SFA now. He was acting… really weird. Weirder than weird. As if he was sleepwalking or something. I tried to get him to tell me what the hell was going on but he wouldn't. When I said I was ringing you for help he… uhh… he flipped. Said that you weren't who you pretended to be and that I should be careful around you. Then he just upped and left."

Gibbs' heart sank to the deepest, darkest depths of hell and his answering mono-syllable was barely audible.

"Damn."

…