"I..." Gibbs shook his head. "I think you better go."
"I don't want to leave you--"
"...like this," finished Gibbs acidly, pulling away.
"Whoa." Tony's hand gripped around his arm but Gibbs yanked out of his reach, fists at ready again. "Hey, I thought you wouldn't punch me."
Gibbs lowered his hands. "I'm not going to punch you, Tony."
"Good, then would you just hear me out? I thought I came up here to tell you that this was killing us ... all of us. But I get here, and all I can think about is that it's killing me. I miss you, Gibbs. And I don't want to think that I'm missing you because I fucked up."
"We just went over this," comforted Gibbs. "It was a bomb. Whether I was standing two feet closer, or you were, was totally a matter of chance."
"I'm not talking about the bomb." Tony's voice softened and Gibbs knew he must have ducked his head. "I'm talking about the day in the hospital, when they took the bandages off."
"I get more than double-takes, Tony." Gibbs put out an unsteady hand, resting it on the younger man's leg. "I'm sure it wasn't a pretty sight."
"I didn't leave because of the scars. I left because ... I think I couldn't imagine that you'd really been hurt. That you were just like the rest of us. No special Gibbs-protection. No..."
"...invincibility?" added Gibbs, remembering Ducky's lecture on the same subject. Gibbs squeezed Tony's knee. "Nope, no invincibility."
"Gibbs, I ... I'm going to touch you," warned Tony.
He turned Gibbs' face back toward him. "I guess you ... know that I, uh, that my interest in you was never purely professional."
"I don't need a pity-fuck, DiNozzo."
"You know me, Gibbs; you think I give them? I'm way too egocentric for that."
Gibbs smiled, the laugh lines visible at the corners of his eyes. "You can stay the night, Tony. On the couch." Gibbs sobered as Tony's thumb ran along his cheek. "I've ... missed you, too. "His hand covered Tony's. "I've got some ice in the freezer. You might want to put it on those shiners you're going to have."
Tony found his hand gently lowered.
"I'll go get it."
"You don't have to take care of me, Gibbs."
Gibbs carefully removed the tray of ice and topped it with a couple kitchen towels and a plastic bag, treading his way methodically back across the floor. "I'm the one who hit you, DiNozzo. Least I can do is get you some ice." He settled the makeshift first-aid on the table before tossing the towels in Tony's direction. "So, you and Kate doing okay?"
"Yeah, we have a few differences of opinion on things." Tony bunched a handful of ice into the plastic and covered it with the towel. "We can get kind of vocal."
"But you've got each other's back," presumed Gibbs.
"Yeah." Tony pressed the icepack to his face and waited for the cold to seep through the cloth. "I hadn't thought about it, but I guess we do."
They sat in silence for a few minutes before Tony pressed the point. "They want to see you."
"I don't think so."
Gibbs heard the crunch of the icepack being resettled.
"Don't sell us short. We want you back. I think we need you back. Kate and me, it's ... maybe ...not such a good mix..."
"The reason I didn't leave it in your hands—-"began Gibbs.
"It's not that. I didn't want your job, boss. I just don't think Kate wanted it, either."
"She's young. She'll learn. And the reason—"Gibbs held up a hand when Tony tried to silence him again. "The reason I didn't leave you in charge is that what you do best is field work: going undercover, or charming the hell out of witnesses. You didn't want to be filling out the budget and worrying about keeping track of McGee's vacation days. If you -- or Kate -- saw it as some kind of judgment on your ability, I'm sorry. I didn't intend that."
Gibbs blinked into the suddenly pressing quiet. "You did think that, didn't you? Kate, too. Shit." Gibbs carded his hand through his hair. "I wasn't thinking too clearly at that point. I thought she realized..." He pounded his numbed fist against his thigh.
"Hey," Tony captured the already injured fist and held it carefully, "don't. I don't know that we looked for a deeper meaning. The assignment just came down from Morrow and Kate did what she had to. She got the job done."
"You would have, too."
"I would have tried my best," acknowledged Tony. "But that's not how it came down. I'm okay with that. I'm even okay with arguing with Kate. It's not like you didn't give me plenty of practice."
Tony let go of his hand but when Gibbs tried to draw it back, Tony recaptured it lightly. "Uh uh. I haven't even cleaned you up yet."
Gibbs could barely feel the cool of the disinfectant being dotted against his split knuckles. "Ducky said you threatened to quit."
Tony grunted. "Well, that's not entirely ... untrue."
"You're a good agent, Tony. I don't think I said that often enough."
Tony reached across to take Gibbs' other hand. "I don't remember you saying that at all, boss."
Gibbs winced when Tony dabbed at the more sensitive flesh. "If I didn't, I should have."
"It's okay. I figured that if I hadn't been fired, I must have been performing adequately." Tony's voice was serious, none of the light lilt at the end of his words that would have revealed his smile.
Gibbs leaned back against the sofa cushions with a sigh. "I should talk to Kate."
"Yes, you should," agreed Tony, finishing his ministrations. "But not on my behalf." He winced as bruised ribs and a split lip reminded him that Gibbs wasn't the only one that had come out of this a little battered. "You got something to drink in his place?"
"Cupboard above the stove," said Gibbs, indicating the kitchen with a tilt of his head.
"Bourbon, boss?" Tony asked when he'd swung the cupboard open.
"Single-barrel bourbon," retorted Gibbs, laying the back of his head against the couch cushion. "Don't insult it. It took fourteen years in charred oak barrels, letting the angels take their third, to get that bottle."
"Didn't know you had another hobby besides the boat," mused Tony, placing one of the glasses he'd poured in Gibbs' hand, wrapping his own around it until he was sure of Gibbs' hold.
"My great-grandfather was a cooper," Gibbs took a sip of the amber liquid, "at Bardstown." He held up the glass in a silent toast. "In the county of Bourbon."
"Bourbon is a county," reconfirmed Tony, peering distrustfully at the drink in his hand.
"Abraham Lincoln was born in Bourbon County."
"State of—"
"Kentucky, DiNozzo. The state of Kentucky."
"Sorry, boss. The DiNozzos didn't really get south of the Mason-Dixon Line." Tony took a tentative sip, letting the taste fill his mouth with hints of burnt caramel and an oaky vanilla. "Guess that explains the name."
"Name?"
"Leroy Jethro?" Tony prodded. "When have you met another 'Leroy Jethro'?"
"My father," said Gibbs.
"You were named for your father?"
"And his father."
"There's a whole line of Leroy Jethro Gibbs?"
"Oh yeah."
"Well, that's just..." Tony paused, "frightening, actually."
"Whereas 'Anthony Anastagio DiNozzo' is—"
"Okay," Tony capitulated, "our parents obviously both sucked at baby naming. At least you didn't continue the tradition." He took another sip of the smoky whiskey. "This really isn't too bad."
Tony groped muzzily at the sofa back, squinting against the too-bright light of mid-morning. "What hit me?"
"I did, DiNozzo."
"Not you," groaned Tony, managing to focus on Gibbs, who was seated in the nearby chair looking annoyingly unhungover, "the bourbon." He fought his way upright, grabbing at his sore ribs, the pounding in his head increasing exponentially as he bent over. Wincing only amplified the pulsing ache of the bruises on his face. "Okay, some of it was you."
Gibbs got up with the same measured precision Tony had witnessed yesterday, methodically moving to the kitchen where he filled a glass with water. Tony thirstily licked his lips. "Could I-?"
"It's for you, Tony," Gibbs said patiently. "First rule of a hangover: rehydrate."
"What's in that stuff anyway?"
Making his way carefully now that his one working hand was busy not dropping the glass, Gibbs counted off the steps, locating the foot of the sofa with bare toes. "According to Abby – congeners."
The glass disappeared from his hand, quickly followed by the sound Tony gulping noisily.
"Don't drink so fast."
"Wouldn't have thought of you as a guy who knew hangover cures," remarked Tony, swallowing hard, his stomach immediately regretting his impatience. He swallowed again.
"Don't toss your cookies on the couch, DiNozzo," ordered Gibbs. "It's rented."
"Right, b—"This time the automatic title was cut off by the pounding of feet retreating in the direction off the bathroom.
Gibbs winced at the sound of retching, retreating into the kitchen to put some space between his ears and the guttural noises.
"What the hell are congers?" Tony asked a few minutes later, voice soft, the question interspersed with short panting breaths.
"Congers are eels," replied Gibbs. "Congeners are toxic chemicals that form during fermentation."
"Why doesn't that make me feel any better?"
Gibbs followed the sound of the lagging footsteps, returning to his place behind the couch when he heard Tony collapse onto the cushions.
"Try some more water?" He held out the glass. "Slowly, this time?"
"I have to ..." Tony stopped, not wanting to leave, but knowing there was enough animosity between him and Kate already, going AWOL yet another day would only add to it. And the drive back to DC was long. "Work," he finished lamely.
He studied Gibbs. "Come with me?"
"Not yet," Gibbs demurred. He turned his head like he was looking away.
"I miss you."
The declaration brought out a small smile. Tony could see it crook the visible corner of Gibbs' mouth.
"Tony, you don't have to—"
"Why do you think I'm ... soothing your ego or something?"
"DiNozzo, you can have anybody you want. What would you want with a broken down ex-Marine?"
He could hear Tony shift against the couch. The reply was quiet. "I'm not who everybody thinks I am."
Gibbs frowned, the expression wrinkling his forehead. "Then who are you, Tony?"
"I'm just some doofus Baltimore cop that you seemed to see something in." The cushions shifted again. "Kate knows who I am. She reams even better than you did."
Tony looked up, wanting to meet the sharp blue-eyed gaze he remembered.
"She sees me all too clearly."
"Tony—" began Gibbs.
"I ... look, I better go. As usual I've overstayed my welcome."
"Tony, wait."
"It's okay," Tony hesitated before adding, "...boss. I'm not trying to ...," the quiet words hesitated again, "I just wanted to see you. Kate and Abby want to see you, too. We ... we went through a lot together. They just want to remember."
"Okay, you're right," Gibbs conceded. "I owe them that."
A shadow fell across the pale blur of Gibbs' sight and he lifted his head as if he could make out the younger man in the almost shapeless silhouette.
"Thank you," said Tony, bowing his head, "for not slamming the door in my face."
"The door's unlocked. You know that."
"Always meant to ask you about that. It's not the smartest move, you know, leaving your place open."
"It's just ... stuff." Gibbs gestured to the dull walls with his good hand.
"I figured you just always wanted the opportunity to shoot the burglar," replied Tony.
Gibbs grinned.
"You did just want to shoot a burglar, didn't you?"
"You got me there, Tony." Gibbs pushed to his feet.
"You'll come?" the younger man pressed.
"I'll come."
Tony resisted putting a hand out to stop Gibbs' slight swaying. "You just call and I'll come get you."
Gibbs nodded.
"Boss?" There was a pause. "Don't hit me ... but I'm going to—"
Gibbs expected to feel the press of fingers; instead he was wrapped up in Tony's arms, drawn into the warmth of a hard embrace. Clumsily he wrapped his left hand around Tony's waist, palming his intermittently sensitive hand against the back of the wrinkled shirt, letting himself be held.
Tony stood still, finding he could feel, millimeter by millimeter, the body in his arms relaxing until, finally, Gibbs rested his forehead heavily against Tony's shoulder, letting him take some of his weight. Tentatively, Tony cupped his hand over the crown of Gibbs' head, stroking the silvered hair. Even more carefully, he turned toward him and placed a dry kiss against Gibbs' temple. Gibbs stiffened minutely, then relaxed, their breathing slowing in tandem.
Eventually it was Tony who broke the silence. "I should go."
Against him, Gibbs nodded in agreement and Tony gently disentangled himself, making sure Gibbs was balanced before he released him. Immediately Gibbs reached out, searching for a landmark to use as an anchor in the dark. Tony guided Gibbs' hand back to the arm of the chair, a hand on his waist as he settled him into it.
Gibbs squinted up at the shadow again blocking the little light he could make out. He realized, belatedly, that he had no idea where his dark glasses were. "Be careful."
"You'll call?" Tony asked again.
"I'll call, Tony. I said I would."
Tony grinned at the still familiar tone of irritation.
"Okay, you'll call. I'm going." The voice grew a little fainter, as if Tony was talking more to himself as he moved toward the door than to Gibbs. "I'm going. I'm going."
And then the door closed with a soft snick and he was truly gone.
Gibbs sat for a while and contemplated how quickly quiet could lose its charm.
