"You can't have it both ways, Duck. You wanted him safe; he's safe."

"And demoralized," frowned the ME. "You could have done it without—"

A rather stern call of "Gibbs" cut off the ME's castigation and Gibbs winced as Kate Todd stepped into Ducky's domain. The agent looking just as unhappy as the green-clad physician, although at least she wasn't holding a newly sterilized, sharp-ended liver probe.

Laser-sharp brown eyes bore into him. "What did you say to him?"

"As I was telling Ducky," he enunciated with extra clarity, "all I said was that I'm not sending him into the field any more."

"Really, Gibbs, is that all?" retorted Ducky.

Trapped between his two subordinates, Gibbs rounded on the more vocal of the pair. "You're the one who didn't want him in the field in the first place, who was angry that I let him go. So now you're doing some three-sixty because I might have hurt his feelings?"

Ducky shuffled the probe from hand to hand. "Stress exacerbates conditions such as Anthony's."

"So, I alleviated some," pointed out Gibbs.

"He's just sitting there, staring," reported Kate. "He hasn't said a word all morning. Now, in Gibbs," she gave a dark look to her boss, "this might be normal behavior but in Tony ..."

"It's not like I fired him or told him to take disability."

"No," agreed Ducky, "you just made it quite clear his career as he knew it is over."

"You wanted this. You can't expect me to do the dirty work and then complain that it got ugly."

"A little finesse, Jethro. A little tact would go a long way—"

"How much tact do you think you could have accomplished it with, Ducky? What were you going to do? Say 'gee Dinozzo, there's a slight problem with your vision and walking's gotten a bit difficult but that really has nothing to do with why I'm revoking your field status'? His legs may not work, but his brain is perfectly fine and I'm not going to insult him with platitudes."

Gibbs took a deep breath. "You think it isn't killing me to watch him battle this and every day lose some small skirmish for his independence?"

"Boss?"

Gibbs stiffened at this new intruder, who was decidedly not Abby -- who he'd expected to put in her two-cents worth next. This query was soft, almost apologetic.

Ducky watched Gibbs' shoulders slump.

"I," Kate pointed back toward the elevator, "have work to do."

"As do I," agreed Ducky gesturing in the opposite direction.

"Tony, I—"Gibbs looked up and then fell silent. He brushed a hand through his cropped hair and grimaced ruefully. "I'm really not good at this stuff, if you haven't noticed."

"Oh, I've noticed." Tony managed to smile back. "The whole building's noticed, boss."

But then Tony leaned heavily against the crutch, his leg in sudden spasm. He gritted his teeth against the cramp, closing his eyes momentarily to compose himself.

And the next thing he knew he was being hugged. Gently. One of Gibbs' hands wrapped against his back, the other on the back of his head. He pressed his face against Gibbs' warm neck.

"Boss," Tony reminded, tensing despite the contentment that threatened to seep through him whenever he was in Gibbs' arms.

"It's not an 'us' thing," Gibbs rocked him slightly side to side. "It's a boss-employee thing."

"You hug all your employees?"

"At one time or the other. Unbelievable as it may sound."

Tony inhaled deeply, his breath catching, and Gibbs drew him even closer. "It's okay. Let it out," soothed the older man. "Nobody's here."

"I ..." the body pressed up against his suddenly fought the hold but Gibbs didn't let go and Tony finally fell back against him heavily. "I'm sorry."

"What have you got to feel sorry for?" whispered Gibbs.

"That you have to watch. That I'm going to lose..."

"You're not going to 'lose', Tony. You're going to 'survive', just like all the rest of us."

"Not like all the rest..."

Gibbs closed his eyes, swaying a bit in instinctive comfort. "No you're not. Much, much better than all the rest."

Tony's laugh was a little broken. "Know that's not true. I'm a fucking mess."

Gibbs pressed his lips to Tony's forehead. "I don't hire 'fucking messes'. You know my standards."

Gibbs could feel tears now against his neck and Tony's voice was punctuated by small, convulsive intakes of air. "Never knew what you were doing with me, why you took me in."

"I took you in because you impressed me. The same way Kate impressed me. The same as Ducky and Abby."

Tony shook his head in denial. And pulling back mere inches, Gibbs lightly shook Tony's shoulders. "Are you insulting my managerial acumen, DiNozzo?"

At least the intake of air this time was more a snort than a disguised sob. "No, boss."

"Good." Tony's back was patted one more time and, then, Gibbs released him. "You okay?"

Tony nodded and wiped the wetness from his cheeks.

"Then, come on, we need to go check on Hale."

"I called. He's still in ICU."

"He's a suspect in one crime and a material witness in another. We go check on him. Personally."

"Yeah." Tony re-firmed his grip on Rufus' harness, "I could just stay..."

Gibbs let out a nearly silent sigh and fought the urge to take Tony back in his arms. Take him home and show him how much he thought Anthony DiNozzo was truly worth. But that, he knew, would not quiet the half of Tony's soul that needed soothing. "I'll buy you lunch," he offered.

"Is this an –"began Tony.

"—just an employee thing," Gibbs reassured.

"You've bought Kate lunch?"

"Uh huh." Gibbs kept a palm against Tony's back as he haltingly made his way back to the elevator.

"And you didn't take me?"

"DiNozzo."

There was a quicksilver flash of a grin at the tone and for the first time since he'd sunk down across from Gibbs and shared the doctor's pronouncement, the sturdy hand removed itself from its place at the small of his back and he was popped lightly on the side of the head.

"Well, look, if it isn't the second fucking asshole in my life."

"Mrs. Hale, I presume," said Gibbs coolly, his guiding hand never leaving Tony's arm. He'd seen the young woman's glance up as they entered the waiting area, the look of disbelief on her face quickly turning to an unreadable expression.

"Gretchen," returned Tony with a calmness that was only belied by the minute tremor Gibbs' could feel shaking Tony's bicep.

"You look like shit."

Gibbs started to step forward, but Tony released the grip on the crutch and swung his arm out to block him.

"I'm surprised you came."

The admission was met with a shrug. "He hasn't signed the divorce papers."

"So," returned Tony, "you're hoping for a fatal outcome."

The bundle of blankets, piled just beyond where Gretchen Hale sat, stirred, but the woman took no notice. Not even when a small hand pushed sleepily out from the hospital-issued covers.

"Mama?"

Gibbs frowned as he looked from the man he stood beside to the miniature version with the same tousled light brown hair wrestling sleepily with the blanket on the bench.

"Hush, Sam."

The little boy, Gibbs estimated the child was three or four, scrubbed at his face, wrinkling his nose and frowning. An expression that immediately disappeared when he caught sight of Rufus and he scrambled to his feet and slid across the floor to sit serious and silent, studying the tall dog.

"Sam! Leave him alone."

Tony held up a hand, "It's okay." He squinted around Gibbs. "Is there a place I can sit down?"

Gibbs gently propelled him toward the other bench. "Here."

Tony released the harness, taking almost a controlled fall to the hard vinyl, which Gibbs had to stay with a grunt. Rufus obediently settled by his feet. It took a minute, in which Sam observed the commotion a little wide-eyed, but the siren song of canine companionship won out and he scooted closer with a softly whispered, but clearly delighted, "Doggy."

Gibbs watched as he touched Rufus' brow, a tentative stroke of tiny fingers. No doubt at all in his mind that this diminutive version of DiNozzo was Tony's son.

DiNozzo sat motionless, his gaze fixed on Gretchen Hale. "You haven't changed have you?"

"You have," she observed coldly.

"Your husband is lying in ICU."

"Soon to be ex-husband," she corrected.

"Not if he hasn't signed the divorce papers. Who is it this time, Gretchen? You sleep with his new partner?"

"Nope." The woman was stylishly thin, dressed in stiletto heels even for a day in ICU waiting. Her glance lingered on Gibbs and then dismissed him. "His boss."

"Caracas?"

"Think ... higher." She rubbed the tip of one long, manicured nail with the ball of her thumb.

"Stebbins?"

"Almost got it in one."

"Christ, Gretch. You slept with Lloyd Stebbins?"

"Well, sleeping with you didn't get me anywhere except the maternity ward."

Tony straightened. "Greg was telling the truth?"

The woman's expression wrinkled into a sneer that Gibbs hoped Tony couldn't make out. "For God's sakes, Tony, you just have to look at him."

"I...I can't," murmured Tony, looking down.

Unable to take the shock and grief on Tony's face, Gibbs stood up and crossed in front of him, careful not to move too quickly. "We came to check on your husband's condition, Mrs. Hale. I suggest you and I go do just that."

"And you are?"

"Special Agent Jethro Gibbs, NCIS." He pulled out his badge and flashed it in her direction. "Your husband tried to assault a Federal Agent. More than once."

"What's that to me?"

Gibbs looked her up and down critically. "Apparently, nothing," he observed, taking her arm and pulling her toward the double doors.

He looked back at DiNozzo, slumped against the back of the bench, and at the boy still delightedly patting a patient Rufus. "You two going to be okay, Tony?"

"We'll be fine."

The tone didn't match the assurance but Gibbs' took him at his word. Tony heard the click of the door shutting behind him. He squinted down at the two fuzzy shapes at his feet.

"Why's he got clothes?"

"What?"

"Why's he got..." Tony heard the rip of the Velcro strip that closed Rufus' vest, "...clothes."

"His name is Rufus." Tony reached down and rubbed the rough neck affectionately. "And he's got on a vest because he's a special kind of dog. He's got a job."

There was a protracted silence as this was pondered.

"What kinda job?"

"He helps me walk."

Tony could make out a small arm snaking over to touch the crutch leaning against the bench.

"Yeah, just like that does."

"I run real fast," announced Sam solemnly.

Tony grinned. "I bet you can."

"And I play b-ball."

"My name's Tony." DiNozzo stuck a hand out and felt the press of a hot, damp one in his. He marveled at the feel of the small fingers.

"I'm Sam."

"Nice to meet you, Sam."

The hand removed itself. "My daddy's sick."

"I know. I used to work with your daddy."

"You a policeman?"

Tony smiled "Not any more."

"I'm gonna be a policeman." Sam announced decisively, getting to his feet.

Tony suddenly tensed, realizing that if he moved far then he'd have a hard time either following him or seeing where he had gone. "Hey, Sam?"

The small body moved close enough for Tony to feel the warmth of it against his braced knee.

"I need you to do me a favor, can you do that?"

There was no sound but he could see movement, probably a nod.

"I can't see very well so I need you to stay with me."

"You need me?"

"Uh huh." Tony reached out his hand again and was relieved when fingers curled around his. Then there was the squeak of sneakers against vinyl as the bench was laboriously climbed. The small, living warmth settled against his side. Tony reached out and ran his fingers through the soft, fine hair. "You'll make a great cop, kid."

It had been quite a while, longer than Tony had expected. Just how long would have to remain a question, though, as his watch was out of reach, his left arm supporting the curled weight of the sleeping child.

He was half-asleep himself, drowsy and warmed. He'd tried to piece it together, get his mind to wrap around the concept that this was his child. Flesh of his flesh. He'd shivered briefly when it occurred to him that he might have inadvertently made a copy of his own faulty nerves and synapses. The enormity of it overwhelming him.

The door swung open with such a quiet click that it took Tony a minute to realize they weren't alone. He sat up a bit straighter.

A hand – Gibbs' -- settled on his shoulder. "He didn't make it."

Sam was perfunctorily removed from his side. He could smell Gretchen's perfume, see the glint of her blonde hair as she swept the sleeping form up into her arms.

"Gret—"Tony started to offer his condolences but she disappeared silently into the murky haze of his shortened horizon with a sharp clicking of heels.

He found himself reaching after her...

The hand that reached back was familiarly masculine. Rufus yawned audibly at Gibbs' close approach. His nails snapped against the flooring as he rose and shook himself.

"He's a nice kid," Tony mused as the hand holding his own massaged a gentle thumb over his knuckles.

"Must take after his father," observed Gibbs.

Tony smiled wanly. "Wants to be a cop."

"Then he does take after his father." Gibbs put a hand under Tony's elbow, urging him up then he held him steady as he swayed fractionally. "Come on. I think we should eat."

"She take it well?"

"Oh yeah," Gibbs made sure Tony was stable before he released him, "like a trooper who doesn't need to get the divorce papers signed now."

"That's Gretchen," Tony agreed, waiting while Gibbs settled himself with his hand under Tony's left arm.

"You have some rights in this, Tony -- if you want to pursue them."

The doors swung open and they were out in the hall.

"Some great parent I'd make," pointed out Tony, nodding downing at his unsteady gait.

"Stop selling yourself short," ordered Gibbs. "Last time I looked parenting was not about legs."

Gibbs and Rufus, both, pulled him back to a sudden halt at an intersection of hallways. Tony laughed darkly. "How 'bout eyes?"

"DiNozzo." Tony turned away from Gibbs' hiss in his ear. "You will stop that right now."

"Or what – you gonna hug me again, boss?"

The hand griping his arm kneaded his bicep. "If I have to."

(tbc)