HOME TRUTHS
Never leave a man behind, Gunny, he reminded himself. You did that with DiNozzo. And you'd better figure out just why you did while you have the chance.
FOUR
Tony had spent so much of the summer running on auto-pilot that, leaving Gibbs' neighborhood, he efficiently called Fiorelli's for takeout, ran into a grocery on the way to pick up a couple days' worth of basics, picked up dinner and chatted for a few minutes with the effusive owner of his favorite neighborhood Italian comfort food, and pulled into a parking place outside of his temporary condo in less than an hour.
He couldn't really remember getting there. As he loaded up everything to go inside, his time-zone challenged brain still chewed over everything that had happened an hour before. The one impossible thing that had become emblematic for him of normal, of reliable and dependable, had actually just happened – he had shown up outside of Gibbs' house and just waited, mentally daring the man to just know he was there. And damned if he didn't.
A younger Tony had taken all that on faith, that Gibbs was all seeing, all knowing; any sign of trouble, he just needed for Gibbs to show up and fix things. As time went on, things were less clear - he became older and events made him more cynical; Gibbs became ... what?
More of a bastard? Less sharp? More driven? More secretive? Any or all of the above?
Tony still didn't know, exactly, but Gibbs wasn't the Gibbs he met in Baltimore or who took him in at NCIS. With all the other changes, though, Gibbs' gut still seemed to work when he wanted it to. With the last couple years, the knowledge that Gibbs had been pushing him away, and the feeling that Gibbs was probably relieved he was finally gone, DiNozzo also suspected, down deep, that this change was a sign less of Gibbs' problem with him as Gibbs' problem with Gibbs. Who knew what it could be – something physically wrong, like an illness? Some lingering effects of a case that no one recognized as causing his changes? Recurrence of old memory issues with newer injuries? Any of those things combined with Gibbs getting a pass for so long, and getting away with his "my way or the highway" approach with damn near everyone now, that his slowly changing persona had slowly, over time, become the new normal? Was he the only one who had tried to make Gibbs aware that he had all the signs of having a problem, so he was the one on whom Gibbs focused all his ire?
Tony slammed the car door shut and paused for a moment, playing over events in his head yet again, still overwhelming in his exhaustion. By God, he did it. Gibbs did it, he reminded himself. Gibbs had known that he was there, outside his house, when there was no reason for Gibbs to expect him to be. Not only that; from what Gibbs said, he'd known for some days that something wasn't right with his former SFA. The one thing that Tony held out for himself as proof that Gibbs was still Gibbs, that crazy, preternatural ability Gibbs had to just know, was absolutely, perfectly proven to not only be true, but to still be intact.
The thought struck Tony like a ton of bricks. As crazy as he had been to conjure all that up as his test of reality, to mentally dare Gibbs to be superhuman – and then the guy fucking did just that – maybe it wasn't so crazy. It was a leap of faith which used to not be a leap at all for him, believing Gibbs could just appear and save the day. That he was still alive, after all those years at NCIS, in some pretty dire situations, was a testament to faith well placed; that out of the blue, Gibbs knew to find him camped outside his house in a rental car, was proof that his faith was still well placed, even after everything had gone wrong.
Tony drew a deep breath, blew it out. Dinner was getting cold, and he hadn't even allowed himself to remember the rest of the surprising evening.
He walked toward the door, promising himself to tuck away the rest for when he was more able to think logically and responsibly. His life had been full of promises made then broken, and he would not let the magic of the evening be tarnished with unfulfilled hopes. But Gibbs was Gibbs just now, his battered thoughts taunted him. He was patient. Concerned. He said - twice - he was glad to have him here. Gibbs admitted being wrong and practically apologized. He invited him in and appeared to want to talk. Gibbs, inviting conversation.
The signs were overwhelming. He definitely could not handle this until he'd had some sleep.
Tony opened the door into the condo, trying to slip in fairly quietly, but in the subdued lighting of the front room he saw his father put aside his newspaper to rise from his chair.
"How is she?" Tony asked, before any greetings were passed between them, as he headed to the kitchen with his purchases. "She wake up while I was gone?"
"No, she's been fine. Sleeping like a log," his father brushed aside his concerns as he trailed behind his son. "Takes after you that way, I guess." Tony glanced up at Senior, unable to completely hide his knee-jerk skepticism at the fatherly comment as he wondered if the older man had even thought to look in on Tali if she wasn't calling out. But Senior went on, "I checked a couple times to make sure she was settled, and she was fine. Sleeping peacefully."
Tony relaxed at that and, a bit sheepishly, tipped his head at his father as be paused briefly in his unpacking. "Thanks, Dad."
"Glad to have you both here." Senior shifted slightly as his expression crinkled into one of pleased curiosity. "And dinner certainly smells as good as you promised it would be. How have I missed this place so far?"
"Neighborhood hole in the wall a few blocks over in the less swanky part of the area. Easy to miss it." He loaded up his arms with some of the items he'd gotten from the grocery to put them in the refrigerator, sorting them into the appropriate drawers or shelves. Before he dealt with dinner or the other things, though, he pulled off his jacket to hang it on the back of a chair started toward the other room. "I'm gonna check on Tali. Or..." he paused, then decided, "actually, think I'll get her up for a while. Maybe she'll eat a bit of dinner while we eat. Otherwise she may stay six hours ahead of everyone else in town."
"Good thinking, Junior," Tony registered behind him as he quietly opened the door to the room where Tali slept and slipped inside, coming alongside the bed where she lay sleeping soundly. His features softening, Tony smiled softly and sat on the bed at her side.
"Hey, Tali-mae. Your grandpa and I are going to have some dinner in a minute. How about you? You hungry?" Tony didn't know if it made a difference or not, but since Tali had come into his life, especially the way she did, those times she wasn't awake when he needed her to be, he wanted to be sure not to startle or scare her – he had no idea why. It was a gut thing, and especially given the events of the past several hours, he wasn't going to question it now.
To his relief, she awoke the way she often did when he awakened her – a few moments to wake and settle into the present, a look up at her father, and a sunny smile. "Abba..." she murmured, still a bit sleepy.
"Tali..." he cooed back, as he usually did now, with his own wide smile. "C'mon. I'm hungry! I bet Grandpa is too." He gently pulled the covers back and waited to see if she would sit up or needed a bit if encouragement. She rolled up groggily, and Tony scooped her up the rest of the way. "Bunny!" she reached out, and Tony dipped them both so she could snag Kalef's now-preferred partner. With a buzz to her cheek, Tony carried her out into the main room.
"There she is!" Senior beamed. He really was seeming to enjoy his role as grandfather, Tony mused. Tali smiled sleepily and tucked her head shyly in Tony's neck, still waking. He headed toward the highchair in the corner – that Dolores, he mused; above and beyond – and, shifting Tali to one arm, pulled the chair up close so she could watch the preparations. He hoped it would spark her appetite as well. "The lasagna smells delicious, Junior." He had pulled containers out of the large white bag from the restaurant. "I take it the penne are for Miss Tali?" He looked to the child as she sat up in her high chair, the food piquing her interest.
"Yeah – and there should be a small sub of marinara for her, too." Tony went to the counter to grab a banana; he peeled it and quickly sliced it, then halved the slices. Putting them on a plate, he found a small bowl and put several of the penne in the bowl with a tiny bit of sauce. Disappearing for a moment, Tony came back into the kitchen and went to the plate with Tali's food, "Glad I thought to bring these," he smirked. He turned to put Tali's food in front of her, and Senior noted he'd brought child sized, plastic handled utensils that Tali picked up readily to start eating. As she did so, her father managed to slip a bib around her front and snap the velcro closure closed before any food could spill.
Tali settled, Tony unconsciously sighed and straightened. "Okay. Our turn," he smiled to his father. "You found everything else, too, salads & bread?"
"Right here," Senior nodded. "Don't suppose we have any wine to go along?"
"Sorry Dad - the little market where I stopped didn't have any, and it was getting later than I'd expected." Seeing his dad's sudden interest at the comment, Tony turned to find a serving utensil of some sort and grabbed it, with some plates, shrugging to cover, "the owners were there when I went in, and had a bunch of questions about where I'd been for so long. They're Italian; it took a while to get away." Tony tried a grin. It was the truth, just stretched a bit. He didn't know how it would sound to his father that practically the first thing he did upon landing in the US after so many months was to go stalk his estranged boss. He pulled back the lid on the lasagna that Senior had loosened, dished out good-sized portion, and handed Senior "Here - eat up."
"Thank you, son." Tony felt his father's assessment as he dished out a serving for himself and though he'd rather not be under anyone's examination until he'd gotten some sleep, he knew he could sidestep any concerns his dad might have. Senior's concern might be genuine but it was limited; he always had other things drawing his attention. And after years of undercover work and Gibbs' daily scrutiny, there was only one person he worried about seeing too far inside his head. "Sit, Junior; eat," his father added.
"Try to stop me. This is the longest I've gone without Fiorelli's since I moved here." His grin was enough to make Tali smile in return as he leaned over to put a couple small pieces of lettuce on her plate from his salad, but he sensed his father wasn't quite so easily distracted, even though he did see his father's appreciation with his first bite.
"Oh," the older DiNozzo moaned, "you're right. This really is good."
"Told ya."
"And you – I'm proud of you, son." Senior paused, looking at the both of them fondly. "You're doing so well with Tali."
Despite himself, Tony was touched by the comment. "Thanks, Dad."
"I mean it. I know that ... so much was a sudden surprise. You managed it all better than most people could."
Tony snorted at that. "Not quite." 'Managing?' By running away? Chasing ghosts and spies and dead ends while trying to learn more than his rudimentary Hebrew and discovering what toddlers can and can't eat? "But thanks," he got himself back on track. "I was lucky to be able to take the time to sort things out, and get to know Tali."
Senior nodded, and to Tony's surprise not only saw through at least a layer of what had been going on with him, but was subtle in front of Tali. "I take it that you haven't heard much more than you knew when I was there in September."
Tony's eyes popped up to his father's, and saw confirmation there, so shook his head. He had told his dad then of his search for answers, the growing number of questions about the explosion and Ziva's "death," and his initial contacts with her friend and former co-worker in the hope of obtaining more. He really wasn't up for discussing all he'd learned since, but at least in the scheme of things, he didn't know much more than he had – he'd just had a whole lot of suspicions confirmed. He shrugged tiredly, "super secret spy agencies are almost as bad as the IRS is for handing out info to civilians. At least her friend knows a lot more about things there and has a lot more inroads than I do, so for the most part I am just waiting to hear more from him."
Senior looked at him, apparently in some appraisal, then nodded his satisfaction. "Well, good. You could use a bit of a break from things. At least catch up on some sleep while you're here. You look tired, Junior."
Tony barely had the energy to frown defensively, "it's been a full few hours, Dad."
Senior raised his hand placatingly and soothed, "I know, and I just was going to say that I will be in town so that if you would like to have some time to really sleep, and not have to keep an ear out while you do – I am happy to spend some more quality time with my granddaughter."
As his father's last few words were spoken to Tali to engage her, Tony considered him, feeling a bit of guilt and appreciation rolled into one. As much as he wanted to sleep, he also knew he needed to get back to see Gibbs, to see if their troubled relationship could be patched. His dad watching Tali might come in handy for that, too. He sighed, smiling wearily, "thank you. I'll keep that in mind."
"How long will you be here? Are you going to be able to stay for a while?"
"The beauty of unemployment - no real schedule," the younger Tony said. "I want to see how well Tali takes to having been uprooted again. It may not be a big deal, but we'll see."
"Well. I'm glad you're here, for as long as you decide to stay. And I suspect your friends will be happy to see you, too, assuming you let them know you're here."
Tony just nodded. If his father suspected that his initial dash was more to go to Gibbs' place than to go get food, he didn't say, and Tony at this moment was too exhausted to care. The immediacy of dinner, Tali, and his dad had all worked to make his earlier meeting with Gibbs fade in intensity, but it was still in his thoughts, even leaving him hopeful. With yet another promise to himself not to jump to conclusions and commit his trust again too soon, he relaxed into dinner with his daughter and his father. If he'd only imagined last Christmas just how different this year's Christmas would be...