Heart to Heart-18

The Cop and The Con Series

AN: Part 18 is up! I just thought it would be really cool to have Gibbs and Neal talk. This will, of course, take place in Gibbs' basement. I will probably not go much into why Peter and Neal are in D.C. or what's up with Tony. (I haven't decided how much of an appearance Tony will make. But he will, most definitely, be discussed.)

Neal left the bedroom. The house was silent, except for Tony's breathing and another sound that Neal could not quite figure out. He then saw the partially-opened door and the light shining through. The closer he got the more he realized the sound was coming from whatever was behind it. Neal looked through the crack in the door. He smiled. He had discovered Gibbs's infamous basement.

Tony had talked about Gibbs' basement a lot. And if a movie producer had put Tony's words on the screen he would have made it akin to Bateman's hideout or a mystical, wonderful fantasy land. All Neal saw before he was just an ordinary basement. And he was, he hated to admit it, disappointed. Not that he believed that Leroy Jethro Gibbs lived in a fantasy land. But Gibbs did appear, at times, to be larger than life. It was not at all hard to imagine him riding in on that white horse saving the damsel in distress. Though from what Neal gathered from what Tony described, Gibbs was Prince Charming, dressed as Indiana Jones, carrying a rocket launcher in one hand and the said 'damsel in distress' in the other.

Neal slipped back into the bedroom, grabbed his shoes and slipped them on. He then made his way partway down the basement steps and stopped. He sat down and watched Gibbs, busy working on a rib and seemingly unaware of Neal's presence.

"Sanding isn't a spectator's sport, Caffrey." Gibbs said, not looking up at Neal or breaking his rhythm on sanding the rib he was working on.

Neal took the hint. He stood up and grabbed a piece of sand paper off Gibbs' work bench.

"Other side, third back's a little rough." Gibbs said, in way of direction.

Neal went to the indicated rib and began to sand. Both men were quiet for a few moments.

"Bored?" Gibbs asked.

Neal shook his head. "Tony's breathing…."

Gibbs nodded. The breathing was a little scary. But Gibbs knew when there was a reason to worry. And as bad as this sounded, Tony was still okay.

"Why didn't he tell you he wasn't feeling well?" Neal asked. "Why isn't he in the hospital?"

Gibbs stopped sanding and looked at Neal. Gibbs was irritated with Tony, which was why he was down here sanding in the first place.

"If I knew how his mind worked…." Gibbs stopped himself. "Because he hates being sick. He hates hospitals, and he knows that his doctors will be very accommodating and make house calls."

"Why is he staying here with you?" Neal asked. He figured Tony would be more comfortable in his own place. So being here, Neal didn't understand it.

"Tony doesn't have a boat, nor a basement for said boat." Gibbs replied.

Neal grinned. "How do you get them out of here?" He asked, looking for anything that would give him a clue.

Gibbs shook his head. "Tony still hasn't figured it out, huh?"

Neal shook his head.

"To answer your question, Tony's more than just a co-worker. He's been a good friend. He's one of the few people who will tell me what's what." Gibbs paused. "And he's one of the few people I'll listen to."

Neal nodded. Tony had told Neal all about his friendship with Gibbs. He knew Tony felt more of a father/son relationship with Gibbs. And he was sort of jealous of that. At least Tony knew where his biological father was. That Tony hadn't been lied to for the most of his life about his father.

Neal kept these feelings to himself; of course, DiNozzo Senior was a horrible person, as it turns out. Neal imagined he would end up feeling the same way Tony did about the man.

"Tony never told you about us?" Neal asked as he concentrated on a rib.

"He mentioned military school." Gibbs grinned. "...be hard to work in your best friend is a convicted felon."

"Yeah, I can only imagine." Neal chuckled.

They again lapsed into a comfortable silence.

Gibbs stared at Neal for just a second. "So…military school…?"

"Yeah," Neal looked Gibbs in the eye. "…can't you tell?"

Gibbs nodded and laughed. Neal had one of his famous suits on, sans the jacket, it was upstairs in what had become Tony's bedroom. Neither Neal nor Tony looked like they had been to military school. Or, for that matter, would ever need to go. They looked like well-adjusted rich young men. No one would ever guess what pain and disappointment the good looks and the smiles actually hid. And they hid a lot.

"Tony said he learned a lot there." Gibbs said. "Despite how much he hated it, at first. He said it was much better after he made a good friend." Gibbs was referencing Neal with his last statement.

It was Neal's turn to smile and nod. He had not wanted to be there either. But that was before he had met Tony. "I learned how to shoot."

"Tony said you didn't like guns." Gibbs stated.

"We had this…kid, this crazy kid…Jeremy Wickham. He was…we figure that he just got sent to military school to get rid of him. We all made a bet that he would grow up to be a serial killer." Neal looked at Gibbs to see his expression. He was not disappointed. Neal nodded. "He really was that bad. He used to take the smaller kids out into the woods. He picked on me because I was smaller, skinnier than the other kids. And I was a bit of a smart-ass, so I think I pissed him off at some point. Something I had said. He would be so normal one minute; he looked like any regular kid. But then, Gibbs, it was like he…he flipped a switch or something. He used to take kids out and he would play Russian roulette with them. He put one bullet in a revolver and made us all get down on our knees. He would then point the guns at our heads and pull the trigger." Neal paused. "He had pointed the gun at 4 kids and had pulled the trigger, nothing happened. I was number 5. He pointed the gun at me. I don't remember much, except how terrified I was. I wasn't in the woods when I woke up."

Gibbs poured them both some bourbon. He handed Neal his Mason jar.

Neal shook his head. "Not a fan of kerosene."

Gibbs grinned and then took a sip.

"I got teased mercilessly for about a week." Neal shrugged. "They got tired of ragging me and went on to somebody else. But I just…it stayed with me. I..." He shook his head.

Gibbs watched Neal work for a moment. He had never seen anybody take so much care sanding a rib.

Neal felt eyes on him. "It's not worth doing if you don't do it right."

"Then you should have a whole room, a warehouse, full of amazing Caffrey originals." Gibbs replied.

"Nope." Neal said as he concentrated on the rib.

"Why not?" Gibbs asked sincerely.

"I guess I was just too busy…copying the masters." Neal replied. "Though I have sketched and painted the Chrysler building from the view of my apartment. And I did paint a portrait for Peter and his wife, Elizabeth, for her birthday."

Neal looked up at the door and Gibbs knew what he was thinking. "He's fine, Neal. I have a monitor in his room." Gibbs went over to his work bench and turned up the volume. "I just had it turned down because of Tony's breathing."

"Is it going to be this way for him for the rest of his life?" Neal asked, concerned about his friend.

Gibbs nodded. "Tony's lungs were permanently scarred. But he usually does fine with it. On this last case, the long hours…we were out in all kinds of weather. …didn't realize he was so bad."

They fell into a comfortable silence for a little while, both listening to see if Tony needed them. And they were listening for the front door. Peter had gone to talk to the agents in the D.C. Art Crimes division. He wanted to make the agency aware of the new developments in their case. The fact that their suspect had left D.C. and that they would be staying in town a little longer, for personal reasons.

Gibbs was the first to break the silence. "I wondered if you would do something for me, Neal, a couple things, actually."

Neal had no idea what Gibbs was going to ask. He hesitated.

Gibbs smiled at the confused, concerned expression on Neal's face. "I just want a couple 'Neal Caffrey' originals." He then explained to Neal what he wanted done.

Neal quickly agreed.

"When did you tell Tony what you did for a living?" Gibbs asked. It was a question he had wanted to ask Tony. But it just never seemed time to talk about that kind of stuff.

Neal chuckled. "I didn't. He found my mug in a list of wanted posters, under an alias, of course. I always assumed he knew. He always seemed to know…things about me. I just figured…." Neal shook his head. "But no, I never did. I always kept in touch with him though. I would send him post cards from these really exotic places. I would be purposefully vague on what I did for a living. And, I guess, Tony just thought I was living a dream."

Gibbs let what Neal told him sink in. "I'm sure he took that well." Then he murmured. "I thought the man had good investigative skills."

"Gibbs, that had nothing to do with Tony's investigative skills. I was several continents away, and I gave him no reason to think I was doing anything illegal." Neal sighed. "And he confronted me that first time he saw me after he found out. He came to New York to see me and to check out my arrangement with Peter. He didn't like it. He's always told me not to lie to him." Neal had moved to the fourth rib by now and was carefully sanding it. "I never told him a lie. I just may have omitted a fact or two. But I never told him a lie."

"You do realize how very thin a line that is…don't you?" Gibbs asked.

Neal nodded. "Peter tells me that all the time."

"Well Neal, I like you. But for me I need the truth. I need to know. For you to work with me, with my team, I need to know what you know on cases." Gibbs replied. "And I get the thing about omitting the truth to spare the person, or because you think it's not important. I've done the same thing, at times. But there are times when those decisions are taken out of our hands. And in the end, we look like liars. This is not just a job to me. This is my career, my reputation as an agent and a Marine. And I would never do anything to tarnish that." Gibbs paused, letting Neal absorb all he had just said.

They both heard a noise upstairs and their eyes went to the staircase.

"Agent Peter Burke…you can make or break his career, Neal. You have that power. Burke's a good agent. He's a good guy. And he really likes you. Make sure his career is a long and a successful one." Gibbs added.

Neal nodded. He understood. Gibbs had given him a few things to think about.

"Go ahead. Tony is probably awake anyway." Gibbs replied.

Neal nodded and headed up the stairs.

A couple months later, when Tony's birthday rolled around, Tony opened his present from Gibbs. It was a huge portrait, one he had not posed for, but it had turned out magnificently. It was of Gibbs and Tony sitting on Gibb's basement stairs, Tony on his favorite stair and Gibbs sitting below him. Gibbs' legs were stretched out along the length of the stair with one crossed over the other. He had his ever present mason jar, containing bourbon, poised at his lips, the rim of the jar hiding a smile. Tony was grinning broadly, his green eyes lit up as he looked down at his boss, his friend.

Tony looked at Gibbs smiling. "Thanks, Boss."

Gibbs shook his head. "Neal has a great talent."

Tony nodded. "I will be sure to thank him, too."

The second project Gibbs had wanted was a duplicate portrait. Later that evening he went home and pulled his portrait out and hung it over the fireplace. He stood back, admiring the piece.

THE END

More Adventures to come!