"What you got, Abs?"

Abby smiled, scooting the rolling stool from one side of the lab to another. "You know, industrial espionage is not usually my thing. But for you, I make an exception." She pressed a few keys and gestured Gibbs' attention to the screen. "Albert DiNozzo, the picture is courtesy of a Money magazine article. Self-made millionaire, one of those classic, heartwarming immigrant tales – started as a forklift operator at a medical supply company in the 1950s. By the 1970s, he was running the place."

Abby smirked up at him from her seat. "By the way, 'DiNozzo' is not a real name."

Gibbs tilted his head, frowning as he took another sip of coffee.

"Well, I mean, of course, it's a real name. Anything is a real name if you use it. I heard about some guy who legally changed his name to binary code." Abby started to expound further on the relative merits of being called solely by ones and zeros, but was stopped by the look on Gibbs' face. "But back to the famiglia di DiNozzo – see the 'di' is like 'of' or 'from' so you'd expect 'Nozzo' to be a place or a father's name, but 'Nozzo' isn't a word, although it may be a diminutive for Giovanozzo, which is, like, equally unusual. 'Nozze' is a word; it's the word for wedding, but being named 'of the wedding' doesn't make a whole lot of conventional naming sense unless you had serious out-of-wedlock issues, maybe the first kid came before the nuptials and you wanted make sure everyone knew this one—"

"Abby," cut off Gibbs. "Tell it to Ducky; he'll, no doubt, find it fascinating. Tell me what else you know about him." He pointed to the older, darker-haired version of DiNozzo looking down, business-like, from the overhead screen.

"Right," replied Abby, gathering herself back into reporting mode. "Al, here, never went to college. He married her ..." Abby flipped another picture electronically up onto the overhead, "... Patricia Hayes. Had one kid – Tony. Hayes, by the way, is an English or Scottish place name for 'a man who lives near an area of forest fenced off for hunting' ..." she trailed off, "...which is another tidbit I'll save for the Duckman."

She grinned self-consciously when Gibbs nodded in terse approval.

"Not much on her," Abby continued. "One DUI conviction in 1985, paid a small fine and went to drunk school. Nothing since – unless you're into counting up mentions in the Bridgeport social columns."

"Anything ... hinky about his business?"

"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs. You gave me twelve hours. In twelve hours you get everything there is to find about the nice couple with a twelve-bedroom mini-manse in Connecticut. You want nefarious business dealings in hospital supplies in a non-traded company, it will take a little more time."

Gibbs did a double take at the gaudily beribboned basket on the overbed table then proffered the Starbucks cup almost apologetically. "And all I brought was that Caramel Macchiato." He studied the tower of delicacies intently. "Balsamic vinegar, truffle cheese, porcini mushrooms, artichoke pate, spongata, torrone, chocolate truffles, nuts and raisins in Acacia organic honey." He fixed Tony with a mock serious gaze. "Secret admirer?"

Tony surfaced from the sweet, caramel-dosed coffee long enough to shrug. "Same admirer I had last night."

"They been back?"

Tony waved toward the basket. "Only to bring gifts. It's my father's usual MO: If you've done something wrong, bribe your way back into their good graces."

Gibbs glanced up at the medicines strung above Tony's head, noting he'd gained a new miniature bag of slightly yellowish liquid. Tony's eyes followed his gaze and he abandoned the cup for a moment to scratch self-consciously at the tape on the back of his hand.

"Sherri thinks they identified the bug."

"And?" prodded Gibbs.

"And they think the whole shot thing was just a coincidence, that it hasn't had time to lower my immune response enough to have caused this."

A strong hand, still warm from the cup, caught the one worrying the tape. "When do I get to take you home?"

Tony turned his hand to clasp it palm to palm with Gibbs'. "A couple of days."

Gibbs' studied Tony's face, mentally comparing it to that of the self-importantly composed man on the lab overhead. There was a lot of his mother in him obviously. He had her lightened eyes, no doubt owed to her his sandy hair. And there was something of the hidden depths of Tony's gaze in hers, even in the flat, two-dimensional picture Abby had shown on the screen.

He found himself getting caught in that gaze, finding affection there, which could still surprise him - not surprise that anyone could fall in love him ... he'd convinced three women to marry him, after all; but amazement that anyone could stay in love him after they'd really come to know him.

He tightened the grip on Tony's hand, "So what caused the infection?"

A dimple briefly appeared as one side of Tony's mouth twitched in a kind of facial shrug. "Medical mystery."

"I don't like mysteries," stated Gibbs.

"Yeah, well," Abby declared, "we don't learn how to decipher this, Gibbs will be in more than his normal not-a-happy-camper mode."

She jumped a good two inches vertically when "I'm not a happy camper?" floated from just beyond her right ear. The you-should-have-warned-me glare she shot at McGee went unnoticed as he was apparently engrossed in studying a stack of papers she knew he'd already been through.

"No, Gibbs, you're a wonderfully happy camper. You sing along with Kumbaya and make really good s'mores."

"What's the problem?"

"The problem is that I don't speak hospital-geek. I can manage a little financial-geek." Abby's hands, fingers splayed, made little balancing motions. "And I can handle the occasional government-ese ... but this stuff ..." she gestured back to the printouts. "It's all about 'patronage dividends' which I think are a nom de plume for our old favorite ... kickbacks. But it's subtle, Gibbs, very subtle. It's, like, lawyer-subtle." She finally admitted, wincing, "I don't think I'm equipped. I think you need a Doctor of Jurisprudence and I'm a mere bachelor in forensic science."

"McGee?" queried Gibbs.

"Uh, well, while I have a degree in biomedical engineering, we didn't exactly dwell on the more ... financial aspects." He grimaced. "Maybe I should have gone on and gotten that MBA from Wharton."

Gibbs sighed, his exasperated expression brightening a little when he spied Ducky who'd been quietly puttering in the corner with one of the high-powered lab microscopes. "Duck, you're a doctor."

Ducky tried to wave him off, "Not the kind that knows how to make money, Jethro. Although I hear that joint ventures in diagnostic testing are very profitable these days."

"All right. Abby, if you have spare time, use it for this. McGee," Gibbs tilted his head in the direction of the elevators, "you don't have spare time. Get upstairs."

He watched as the younger man scrambled to obey.

"How is Anthony?" inquired Ducky, coming over to stand beside him.

"Being pumped full of antibiotics," admitted Gibbs. "Sherri doesn't seem to think it was the injection."

"You shall have to keep an eye on him," said Ducky seriously.

Gibbs laid a reassuring hand on the ME's shoulder. "Always do, Duck."

There was still no one occupying the other bed in Tony's room -- something Gibbs suspected was the bone the administrator threw to his "major supporter". If Tony couldn't be talked into moving to a private room, they'd at least make sure he had this one to himself. Not that Gibbs actually minded. It gave them a level of privacy and quiet for which he was grateful.

"Hey, Rufus!"

The service dog vest had gotten them through the front door and a bit of humble pleading that no one would ever know about got them past the watchful nurse's desk.

"I don't remember you being that glad to see me," observed Gibbs.

Tony looked up from the side of the bed where a delighted Rufus wriggled in unprofessional excitement. "Don't remember you giving me kisses," Tony shot back. "With tongue," he pointed out as Rufus placed a cold, wet slurp up the side of his cheek.

Gibbs merely rocked a minute on his heels.

"What's wrong?" asked Tony warily, settling his happy canine companion with a crisp "down!"

"I got a call from Candy," Gibbs admitted. "Gretchen's lawyer wants a meeting."

"And, why do I think, given the close proximity to one of my father's minions showing up, that this has something to do—"

"She wants to know why you never told her Sam was an heir to a multi-million dollar company."

"Because I'm not an heir. Why would Sam be?" Tony's hand shook a little as he combed his hair back. "They know, don't they? They know about us."

"How could they know?" questioned Gibbs gently.

"I don't know, they just know. They always have. They knew when I ..." Tony closed his eyes and fisted his hands in the hospital-stamped sheets. "They know, Gibbs. I don't know how but they know."

"Tony, even if they do, Gretchen knows about us. It wasn't an issue."

"That's when I was worth a special agent's salary. If Gretchen wanted her freedom she didn't have much choice but to be ... understanding. They'll try to take him, Gibbs, and she'll see the dollar signs and think that means it's a better life because that's the way Gretchen is." Tony pulled at the tape still holding the IV in place. "And how do I know it's not? What have I got to offer compared to a big house and private schools and—"

"Never sounds like you got much out of it," Gibbs pointed out.

"Maybe I was just a misfit. I mean it's what everyone wants, right? The mansion on the hill?"

"Not me," said Gibbs simply, sitting to take the hand still fretting at the tape into his own.

Tony snorted, "You mean you didn't come on to me because you found out the relatives were rolling in dough?"

"Nope." Gibbs brushed back the hair from Tony's forehead. The gaze that met his was searching in its intensity. "I did not partner with you for your money, DiNozzo," he reassured.

This brought a bemused smile to Tony's face. "You do realize that the rest of the world is not quite so ... honest and upright, don't you?"

Gibbs laughed, his hand moving to cup Tony's cheek. "I noticed," he said dryly.

"What are we going to do?"

Gibbs glanced once toward the closed door. "Abby's working on it. In the meantime, what we're going to do is this." He pulled the willing body toward him and kissed his partner. Kissed him forcefully, deeply and at great length.

Tony gave a little groan when he was finally released, his hand fumbling blindly for Rufus' head. "Sorry, boy." He grinned when his hand was liberally licked by a lolling tongue. "Good try, but I'm afraid your kissing may have lost the top spot."

"May?" inquired Gibbs sharply.

"Well, I think I need another sample to really be sure."

With a rather smug look, Gibbs complied.

(tbc)

Thanks for the usual from C. And thanks for the kind feedback. I really appreciate it!