It was only once they were seated at a table at Addie's, and their orders were taken, that Gibbs settled into true interrogation mode. Tony had realized in the car that Gibbs was carefully policing his normal investigational impulses, Gibbs' innate curiosity probably warring with his managerial vow to provide the promised lunch.

"So, what possessed you?"

"To sleep with her?" Tony leaned his elbows on the table, his fingers worrying each other. "You have to ask me that? You saw her."

Gibbs was noncommittal. "Seen one skinny blonde, you've seen them all."

"Just because 'skinny blondes' aren't your cup of tea, Gibbs, doesn't mean that all of us are immune."

"Skinny brunets," corrected Gibbs, reaching across to cover Tony's hands with one of his own despite the relative publicness of their table. "That's what I'm into right now."

Tony snorted disbelievingly, but his hands engulfed Gibbs' and didn't let go. "Guess you can say that Gretchen and I were kind of in the same place at the same time. She was lonely. I was horny." He blinked wearily. "Not much of an excuse is it?"

"No," agreed Gibbs.

His hand was abruptly abandoned, Tony's fingers moving back to their fretful repetitions. "She told me she was on the pill."

Gibbs watched the nervous motion. "Apparently not."

"Apparently," Tony echoed. "Think that was probably just a miscalculation on her part."

"Forgetting condoms?"

Gibbs sounded ... parental.

"Wanting a baby," corrected Tony.

Gibbs took a deep swallow of his iced tea. "She sure as hell doesn't seem to want him."

Tony's hands moved on to examine the precisely placed silverware. "Gretchen is not the most mature of individuals. She married Greg way too young."

"Guess that was a miscalculation, too," observed Gibbs.

"She wouldn't hurt him," avowed Tony. "She's self-centered but she isn't a child abuser. I'm sure of that. Except for ...Voss, my character judgments are pretty sound."

"There's more to abuse than actual physical neglect and violence."

Tony sighed. "I, uh, know that."

He leaned back as the waiter approached, dropping his hands to his lap, letting the aroma and steamy heat of the loaded burger wash over his down- turned face. He was hungry, surprisingly, even if his stomach was still tied in a clove hitch. Across the way, he could fuzzily make out Gibbs picking through his salad and the familiar sight released a bit of the tension tangling his gut.

"For a man who'll drink cold coffee that's been sitting all night in a room floating in sawdust, you are the finickiest eater."

"Don't drink it cold," Gibbs corrected, dissecting another piece of lettuce and laying the portion that didn't make the grade on his bread plate. "Use the heat gun."

"The heat gun doesn't sizzle," pointed out Tony, feeling steady enough to take a bite of the hamburger.

"Sometimes the branding iron is handy," shrugged Gibbs amiably. He watched, relieved, as Tony dug into his French fries with new-found gusto. There hadn't been a lot of hope that he'd be able to get DiNozzo to eat at all, much less properly, considering the morning he just had. But if inane conversation got the man to take in nourishment – even if that meant, in Tony's case, fries and a bacon cheeseburger – Gibbs would take it.

Unfortunately, inanities only went so far. They didn't cover things like Tony reaching left handed for his glass of ice water and a tremor hitting at just the wrong moment. The sweating glass poised for a frozen, infinitesimal second on its bottom edge before it succumbed to gravity in a splintering crash. The jangle of breaking glass brought nearby conversation to an excruciating hush.

"Fuck," murmured Tony, his trembling hand still hanging in mid-air where the glass decidedly now wasn't. He finally managed to form the uncooperative fingers into a fist that matched the right hand he had clenched around his napkin.

"It's okay." Gibbs moved to kneel on the dry side of the table. "It's just water."

Tony closed his eyes, "Get me out of here, Gibbs."

"Hey, I know it's been a shitty day," consoled Gibbs, his glare catching a few of the nosier diners, his hand finding the one Tony held fisted in his lap. He glanced up at the waiter hovering nearby with a towel and nodded at him, before suggesting to Tony, "Why don't you finish the burger?"

"Okay, okay. You're right. Leaving ... leaving is stupid," admitted Tony, forcibly straightening his fingers. "It's just been a bit more than I was thinking I was going to have to face when we drove in this morning. Guess I didn't see it coming, boss."

Gibbs frowned at the use of the unofficial title when he was holding Tony's hand in his, even if it was unobtrusively beneath white linen.

"I thought you were just going to yell at me," confessed Tony.

"Why would I yell at you?"

"See," Tony's soft whisper held a disturbing edge, "that's what I didn't get. You don't yell at the truly weak, Gibbs. Just at the ones you think could have done better. I didn't realize I'd crossed that line into not being able to help myself, you know?"

"Tony, that's not—"

"And then, God, Gretchen..." Tony drew a sharp breath as the waiter reappeared, his fingers rapidly disentangling from Gibbs'.

"Your water, sir. I'm going to put it right here, by your plate."

Tony nodded, not really hearing, oblivious even to Gibbs' sudden rise from his side.

"He's not blind!"

"Hey," Tony patted his palm against Gibbs' taut stomach. "Easy. I'm the one that's having the breakdown here, remember?"

"You're not having a breakdown."

"That an order?"

Standing down, Gibbs settled back at his plate. "Yes, it is."

"Okay," returned Tony easily. "I'm not having a breakdown."

"Good. Then eat your burger."

But Tony only folded his hands in his lap. "I just keep thinking, what if it's inheritable?"

Gibbs toyed listlessly with his greens. "What's inheritable?"

"My spontaneously collapsing nervous system."

"Anybody in your family got MS, Tony?"

"No, not that I know of."

"Then I'd think it's not too inheritable."

"So you don't think I've condemned him to a life of making an ass out of himself in restaurants?"

Gibbs smiled, reaching across to give Tony's chin a quick caress with his finger. "Hey. Look at me. Please?"

Tony's head came up with a small shake, but he did as Gibbs asked.

"From what I hear from Ducky and Abby, that's an entirely different area to be concerned about."

"That was entirely Abby's fault. She should have told me what Cho Do Fu was," Tony protested, trying to see Gibbs' expression clearly in the pale oval of his face, and hating that he couldn't. It hit him all over again. It wasn't just today, but the reality of the long days to come. He let his gaze fall back to the still shaking hand in his lap.

This wasn't exactly when Gibbs had wanted to push the issue, but he knew the topic would at least yank Tony out of obsessing on his perceived inadequacies. "I want you to talk to a lawyer I know. She specializes in family court cases."

"Gibbs, I don't know."

"Well, I do," countered Gibbs. "You owe that boy something more than just a 'see you around, kid.'"

"Gibbs, you look at me." When the whisper was met with silence, Tony repeated it with a hiss. "Look at me. This is my life now."

He pointed to Rufus, on one side, and the crutch that he'd found too steadying to be ignored, on the other. "You won't even leave me on my own anymore because you're scared I'm going to fall and break my neck, or inadvertently burn the house down, or something. If I need 24/7 supervision from now on, how the hell am I going to-"

"We," stated Gibbs.

The litany jolted to a halt. "What?"

"We." Gibbs emphasized. "You think I was just ... having a fling, here?"

"You—"Tony shook his head. "You're telling me this ... now?"

"Good a time as any."

A concerned Kate had clearly been watching the elevator because she was up and walking backwards next to them almost as soon as they'd cleared the doors.

"I was getting worried." Her tone was teasing enough, but the look she shot Gibbs still had "what have you done now" written all over it.

"Hale's dead," he replied shortly, brushing past her.

"Oh," Kate rested her hand lightly on DiNozzo's wrist. "Tony, I'm sorry."

Tony's shoulders shrugged awkwardly, "It's ... complicated. In a way, this is easier."

He could feel Kate studying him; his reactions never seemed to be quite what she wanted.

"If you need anything..." she finally offered.

"I'm fine. I've got that database search running on Mashreza. Should keep me busy for a while."

This clearly wasn't what she'd wanted to hear either. "I meant if you need anything..."

"I know what you meant, Kate. And I appreciate it." He let go of the harness and held his arm out to her. "Always could use a hug, I guess."

It was nothing like hugging Gibbs. Kate felt fragile in his arms, curved like a multitude of women he'd held before. Soft. She smelled of jasmine. But her strength belied her size. And when he wrapped his free arm around her, he could feel where the gun tucked at the small of her back. Still, being held by her was ... nice, in a comforting, familial sort of way.

Tony tried to remember when he'd been hugged by a member of his real family: his grandparents long ago; his father's youngest sister, when they'd surprisingly glanced at each other across a crowded airport. But that hug had been ... tentative, not without reservation on both their parts. His aunt surely having known by then he was not welcome back in the hallowed family halls, that he was a DiNozzo in name only.

Tony squeezed Kate tight once before releasing her with a quiet, "Thanks."

She backed away, her voice revealingly roughened. "You need anything else..."

"I'm good, Kate. It's okay."

"If Gibbs—"

"It's okay," Tony reaffirmed. "He was right. I, uh ..." he lifted his hand from the crutch and gestured down at his legs, "I don't need to be in the field like this. Guess you and McGee will just have to take out the bad guys for me."

"Yeah, okay," accepted Kate. "Look, I've got to call Virginia Beach. Some idiot at the shipyards has been smuggling in exotic birds from Puerto Rico."

"You get all the good cases," Tony observed dryly.

"Yeah, well, guess I just have 'pet detective' written all over me." She stood a minute longer, though, seemingly unwilling to leave. "Guess I'll just ..." Kate thumbed over her shoulder, "...go back to work."

Gibbs had watched the drawn-out conversation, not sure exactly what was going on with Todd and her sudden watchdog tendencies. He an idea that his name currently resided on Kate's suspicious persons list, along with the "creepy" budget guy that she and Abby had a pact to avoid without backup.

Gibbs coughed pointedly. "Could we get to work, people?"

"Yes, Gibbs" and "Yes, boss" mixed somewhat gratefully in a muddled automatic double-reply as if they were both glad for someone else to separate them.

"Time to go, Tony."

Gibbs rolled his eyes as the object of his directive held up an index finger and slowly waved it metronome-like while concentrating on the speech output from the lightweight headphones.

"Got something?" he inquired when Tony stripped off the equipment, ruffling his mussed hair further.

It was already later than Gibbs had intended to leave, thanks to Morrow requesting his presence in MTAC. He really hoped Tony hadn't come up with anything that would cause this particular day to stretch on any longer. Especially since he didn't relish the fight he'd get into when he tried to stuff his obviously exhausted partner in a cab if Tony had come up with something that required official attention.

"Maybe a location."

Gibbs put his forehead flush against the edge of the cubicle wall.

"Last week's," amended Tony.

"Then we're out of here." Gibbs came around the barrier and gave him a hand up. "We're going to grab a six-pack and some takeout."

Although from the looks of the younger man, he probably wouldn't get through one beer before he was down for the count. Tony looked drained, his skin faintly tinged with a pasty gray. Hell, he should have sent Tony home right after lunch, but he hadn't had the heart to strip yet one more decision away from him.

"Thai?" Tony asked, raising hopeful eyebrows.

"Thai, it is."

On the way out, Gibbs raised a hand in farewell to Kate who was stuffing her satchel full, ready to take her own leave. He frowned at the hunched form of McGee, obliviously pounding away at his keyboard. An agent pulling a late night when there wasn't a hot case wasn't something Gibbs would have even registered a few months ago. He pulled Tony to a gentle stop before his newest agent's desk.

"McGee," he ground out when his silent attention went unnoticed.

McGee's fingers froze on the keys, only lifting when the computer beeped a virulent protest. Gibbs swore he could see the pulse flutter in the agent's neck.

"Sir! No, not 'sir'. Sorry ... Gibbs. I, um, didn't see you there."

Gibbs felt the arm he was still grasping shake a little and he turned worriedly toward Tony – only to find him struggling to hold back a grin.

"Take it easy, McGee, before you bust something." Gibbs gestured toward the monitor. "If ... whatever that is ... isn't urgent then shut it down for the night."

"Sir?"

"You heard me. Shut it down. Take Abby out for dinner. Take her to a ... phat party."

McGee blinked nervously at him.

"Leave," restated Gibbs. "You can finish in the morning."

McGee peered around him helplessly as if he expected someone to pop up and explain that he was the butt of some kind of delayed NCIS hazing.

"Not a joke, McGee. Get your gear and go home. I'll ride your butt some other time."

"Think he means it, McGee," put in Tony, his amusement tempered by the suddenly growing dizziness that was whitening his face further. He rebalanced himself, trying not to lean into Gibbs' hold. But Gibbs noticed anyway. Tony could tell that from the tightening of the fingers holding his arm and the way Gibbs started them forward again, abruptly leaving McGee to his own devices.

Hell, that Gibbs had even told someone to stop working was a testament to the impact his fucked-up body was having on even the people around him. (Or maybe it was just one of the longest fucking days in his entire life. Right up there with telling his dad he had his own career plans, or learning his grandfather had died.

"I think," Tony mused as he collapsed into the passenger seat, "you get major kudos for proper usage of the word 'phat.'"

"Major kudos?" Gibbs waved Rufus into the back, making sure the happily wagging tail was clear before he shut the door. "Exactly what kind of kudos can I expect?"

"The kind you can't get in the Navy's parking lot?"

Gibbs smiled. "I can live with that."

Tony was quiet by the time they stopped for beer and he actually jerked awake at the next stop when Gibbs plunked two fragrant bags of curried noodles in his lap. His condition had degenerated to practical bonelessness by the time they pulled into the driveway.

And this was a habit they were going to have to get out of – sitting in the car while Gibbs contemplated dragging a bedraggled partner up the front steps. The word "wheelchair" peeked tentatively into Gibbs' conscious and was immediately slammed with a mental thud back into the darker portions of his brain.

He looked bemusedly at the slumped form beside him, Tony's arms still protectively cradling their dinner, but the rest of him sagging into a puddle in the bucket seat. Kudos, he decided, were unlikely to be forthcoming – at least this night.

"Couch," he steered when a listing Tony started to just lean against the nearest non-moving object.

"Feels good," mumbled Tony when they'd both unceremoniously collapsed on the thick cushions.

"Does feel good," agreed Gibbs, leaning up against the younger man, arms still locked around Tony's ribs where he'd tried to slow their descent, happy to be resting his aching back.

Tony dispatched the crutch with a resounding thump and Gibbs looked, a little blearily, in the direction it fell. The older man arched ungracefully when warm hands tugged up his shirttail to palm his sore spine.

"No, this," Tony explained, his hands rubbing soothing circles against the smooth skin.

"Mmmm," returned Gibbs, not moving, deciding not moving could, in fact, be a permanent condition as far as he was concerned.

Tony buried his nose in Gibbs' silvered hair, planting a dry kiss on the crown of his head. When Gibbs lifted his face toward him, Tony swooped down to capture his mouth.

The "mmmm" he got this time was deeper and accompanied by a preliminary shudder of pleasure as he moved his hands down to cup Gibbs' ass.

"You sure about this?"

"'m not dizzy when I'm lying down," Tony pointed out as Gibbs guided them both further down, Tony resting across the cushions and Gibbs resting halfway across Tony.

"What about dinner?"

Tony pulled Gibbs back to him. "Screw dinner."

"Rather screw—" but before he could finish, Gibbs found his mouth otherwise engaged.

Pulling away to reposition himself, Gibbs lifted up on his arms to get most of his weight off the man beneath him. Then he returned to his task only to find a deep sigh breathed from Tony's lax and slightly parted lips. The fingers that were still hooked over his belt buckle relaxed, the hand settling, still curled, on Tony's stomach. Tony's eyelids fluttered once, then closed involuntarily as sleep completely captured him.

Shaking his head, Gibbs pressed a gentle kiss to the bruised forehead still marred with wrinkles, the caress smoothing the worry lines out just a little.

"No kudos, tonight," he murmured, carefully rising from the couch.

He lifted the bent legs and took off Tony's shoes, covering the oblivious body with a handy throw. Then Gibbs stashed half the takeout in the refrigerator and brought the rest and a bottle of beer back to the recliner, settling in for the night.

(tbc)

Thanks to the tenth muse for the beta. Any mistakes, of course, remain solely my own.