Tony and Jess had been sleeping together since they were kids. First, it was two sleeping bags, zipped together, in the back yard. Then it was the top bunk of the bunk beds at the lake. Sometimes it was in her room. Once – and only once – it was in his canopy bed. But that creeped them both out, so they never did it again. They shared apartments in college, and when they traveled, they'd share a hotel room. Any time they were together, they slept together.

It wasn't about sex. With the exception of one disastrous weekend during Tony's senior year in college – a weekend that happened, was over, and was never spoken of again – they'd never even considered it. They just both liked sleeping together. There was something wonderfully reassuring to know that there was someone there with you. Someone you could trust to protect you from the monsters under the bed or the monsters behind the door or the odd bits of life that wormed their way into your dreams and turned them into nightmares.

When Tony had the plague and was in isolation, Jess hated not being able to be there with him. She'd managed to visit him once, after he'd started getting better … after Kate left and Tony was alone and bored and driving everyone crazy. It was during that week or so when he was well enough to cause trouble, but not well enough to be released. Dr. Pitt hadn't been too keen on yet another visitor, but when he saw how Tony's entire face lit up when he heard her name, he couldn't say no. Not to mention that she'd talked her bosses – and they were pretty high-powered military bosses at the time – into letting her take a detour to Maryland on her way from San Antonio to Colorado. Pitt felt as though that effort alone had earned her entry.

Jess sat with Tony for eleven hours – playing games, making him eat, telling him stories, acting out movies with him, and curling up next to him while he slept. She'd met Kate then, and also Dr. Mallard. She and Ducky traded stories about opera, and the elder doctor promised to take her to the Kennedy Center the next time she was in Washington.

And then she had to leave to take the post in Cheyenne Mountain. Because unfortunately the Air Force didn't care that she'd almost lost him or that she wanted to stay more than she'd ever wanted to be anywhere. There was a war in Iraq, and they needed her at NORAD. Jess called Tony twice a day until he was back home, and then they e-mailed constantly until he was well. She sent flowers for Kate's memorial service, and he called her, exhausted, to tell her Ari was dead. At the time, Tony had said, "I can't sleep; I wish you were here." And Jess would have been, if she could have been.

Tony woke with a start. Something was different … he wasn't alone. He closed his eyes for a second and focused. Jess. Right. Jess was here. He smiled into the dim morning light and rolled from his side onto his back. Jess countered his movements and curled up against him. He wrapped his arm around her and pushed some hair back from her face as she settled on his shoulder. That's how they were when they slept … they were always aware of where the other one was. They never jockeyed for position or fought for the covers. Watching them move around as they slept was like watching ballet – Tony's sophomore roommate had said that once.

The clock by the bed said it was just after 8am, which put Jess' internal clock about six hours earlier, Alaska Time. She was definitely out for a while longer. It was grey and cloudy and raining outside, and Tony was more relaxed than he'd been in a month. There was absolutely no reason to get out of bed. Jess shivered slightly, and Tony pulled her closer, reaching for the comforter to pull over her shoulder. That's when he noticed the scar. He hadn't seen that one before – and they were famous for playing "I have more scars than you do," particularly if they were out at a bar and getting really tired of bad karaoke. They'd both been accident-prone as kids – truly accident-prone, not accident-prone-as-a-euphemism-for-abused. They were stalwart adventurers who would try pretty much anything once. But this scar didn't ring a bell. He'd have to remember to ask her about it when she woke up. And with that, he pulled the comforter up and waited for it to settle. Then he closed his eyes and went back to sleep, feeling her breath on his neck and trying to remember the last time he'd consciously slept in.

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

Jess woke up slowly, feeling rested and comfortable and safe. In other words, totally different than she'd felt since she'd heard the news last week. Tony was up, but hadn't been up for long, if the residual warmth of the bed next to her was any indication.

She glanced over to the bedside table to see what time it was, but the clock was gone. She was sure there had been a clock there earlier, when she'd woken up at 6:30 am. Tony's phone was gone; so was hers. Her watch was gone. There was absolutely no way for her to know what time it was. Which, of course, was Tony's M.O. He liked to stop time on weekends. You did what you felt like doing without worrying about what time it was or whether you should be doing something more productive.

It was tempting to roll over and just go back to sleep, but Jess didn't like the bed as much without Tony in it, and … well … she really had to pee. She got up, did the bathroom thing, pulled on a pair of green plaid flannel pajama bottoms that in no way matched the light blue polka-dot tank top she had worn to bed, ran a hand through her hair, and wandered out into the living room.

"Hey, sleepyhead," said Tony from the couch, where he was reading the paper and watching the news. "Nice fashion statement. There's coffee."

She looked at the newspaper and then to the news. He also had an issue of TIME magazine open on the couch. "Over-achiever," she teased. He smiled and hopped up to give her a hug.

"How did you sleep?"

"Better than I have in a week," she said, stretching and accepting the mug of coffee he offered. "What time is it?" She realized that there weren't any clocks out here either, and she turned back to the living room to check the TV.

Tony beat her to the remote and clicked off the set. "Who cares what time it is?" he said with an innocent smile. "It's Sunday, it's cruddy outside, there's no reason to go anywhere or do anything. So … who cares?"

He knew it was driving her crazy to not know – he used to do this to her all the time in college. He was particularly sadistic about it during Finals Week. She'd fall asleep studying and wake up to find that all the clocks, watches and other time keepers had been purged from the apartment. He never once let her miss a class or a final, but he did enjoy watching her momentary freak-outs. Usually, she could judge – roughly – by the sun or the shadows outside, but today was grey and rainy. Add to that the effects of the jet lag, and she couldn't even guess.

He was standing there with a silly smile on his face, testing her resolve. So, she sat at the kitchen counter and drank her coffee. It was a battle of wills. Tony sat down, remote in his lap, paper opened, glancing at her over the top of the headline. She smiled at him, reached over to get the sugar bowl, then quickly grabbed the phone from the cradle, dialed "0" and said, "Could you tell me the correct time, please?" It was over before Tony had a chance to react.

Jess hung up the phone and looked at him, sitting there with his hands up in mock surrender. "It's 3:15," she said, incredulously. "In the afternoon."

"And … ?" Tony said.

"Nothing. I … I mean … it's … afternoon. How did that happen?"

"Well," said Tony, pulling his reading glasses down to the end of his nose and adopting his best teacher / lecturer tone, "as the sun moves across the sky each day, the earth goes through a series of time changes …"

She threw a potholder at him and laughed. "Smart ass. You could have woken me up, you know."

"Why?" he said, his face getting a little more serious. "You obviously needed the sleep. And really, I only got up about a half-hour before you. So, apparently I did too." He smiled. "You hungry?"

"That depends … do you have food?"

"Yes, I do," Tony said with a slightly affronted tone. "All five major food groups, in fact." He pulled some fruit out of the fridge and put it on the table, along with a couple of bagels and some peanut butter. Jess reached for a bagel, spread some peanut butter on it, added a layer of banana slices, and took a bite. Tony did the same.

"So …," he began. "It's tomorrow."

"Technically," Jess countered, "it's today."

"Yes ….," Tony continued, in a tone of voice that indicated he was willing to play along if he had to, "but yesterday, when you said you'd tell me tomorrow, you clearly meant today, which was tomorrow yesterday."

She stared at him and smiled, the tiredness in her eyes returning. "Yeah."

"Come on, Jess," Tony said, as he watched her put her bagel down and push the plate away. "I can't help you fix it unless I know what it is. Just tell me. Say it fast, like pulling off a band-aid."

She sighed and looked down at her hands. He waited.

"Trey is out of jail." Then, she looked up.

She had to give him credit. He didn't jump up in shock and surprise, as she had. He didn't throw something or punch the wall. The only indication he gave that he'd even heard her was a clenching of his jaw and a look into her eyes that was equal parts disbelief and anger.

"How is that even possible," he said, in a voice so calm it was eerie.

"He got 18 to 24," Jess said quietly. "It's been 18."

"OK …," Tony began, "but how?"

"Apparently, he was a model prisoner. He was released early for 'good behavior'."

"Bullshit," Tony said. "This is his father. What? The prison has a new library now? A new exercise yard?"

"Actually, it's a medical clinic," Jess said, with a rueful smile. "So … now you know why I'm here."

Tony looked up.

"OK," he said, mentally shifting from 'weekend mode' to 'agent mode'. "There's a restraining order, right?"

"As a condition of parole," she said.

"So … you're good, then."

"When have you ever known Trey to follow the rules?"

"Good point," he nodded. "But still … you're in frickin' Alaska! No way he's going to trek all the way up …." His voice faded out as he saw her face. "He's already found you, hasn't he?"

"Showed up on my front porch last week. Two days after I heard about his release on the news." She sighed. "I called the police, but he was gone before they got there. I didn't see him again, but he was there. Notes on my car … photos in the mailbox … flowers and presents. Nothing even remotely threatening."

Tony bristled.

"To the untrained eye, at least," she said. "The police knew there was a restraining order out on him, but until he showed his face again, they couldn't do anything. I was constantly looking over my shoulder. I couldn't sleep. Every sound made me jump. I had to get out. So, I told my bosses that I had a family thing, and needed emergency leave. I'd never asked them before, so they figured it was serious. They let me go, and I came here."

Jess stood up and started to pace.

"He knows it's the first place I'll go, and I know he'll show up here, but there wasn't anywhere else I felt … I needed to be somewhere safe." She looked at him and hung her head. "I'm sorry," she said, in a whisper.

"Excuse me?" Tony said as he stood and walked over to her. "YOU'RE sorry? What the hell do YOU have to be sorry about?"

"For getting you into this. Again."

"I was into this the second he decided that hurting you would be fun. And I'm not out of this until you're safe and he's back behind bars."

Tony took Jess by the shoulders and forced her to look up at him. "No one gets to you without going through me." She smiled, tentatively. "And I'm a big guy," he said, pulling her into a hug.

"Yeah," she laughed. "You and Schwarzenegger are workout buddies. I know."

She hugged him back and looked around the room. "So … what's the plan?"

"First," he said, "you finish eating something. Then, we play it by ear." He grinned his best DiNozzo grin. "After all … it's still Sunday."

As she went back to the table to get her bagel, Tony's face hardened a little as he watched her. This had the potential to get ugly.