Title: Facing Forward
Author:CSIGeekFan
Rating:T (mild language)
Disclaimer:This is a disclaimer. Had this been anything other than a disclaimer, this message would have been preceded by a whole lot of joyful screaming, wailing, and singing. However, since this is a disclaimer, I must not own NCIS. Which just sucks.
Author's Note: I hope you enjoy. Please leave me a review and let you know what you think; I really do enjoy feedback.

X X X

The next time Tony opened his eyes, it was to find the biggest, bluest eyes staring straight into his own.

"Hey, kid," he thickly said, trying to wipe away the fatigue weighing on his limbs.

"Hey, Pops," Emily softly replied, smiling tremulously.

His heart broke a little when the girl's eyes filled and she bent her head down to sniffle into Tony's shoulder.

"S'okay, honey," Tony murmured, painfully scooting up so he could wrap an arm around his little girl. A decade ago, had anyone told him he wouldn't care how bad it hurt to have a child burrow into his injured chest, he would've told 'em they were wacked. Yet as Em held onto him tight enough to cause fire to shoot through his sternum, he didn't care.

He didn't notice that Emily wasn't alone, either, until the chair in the corner wheeled forward, and Curt brought himself into view.

Tony could only stare in relief as his oldest child approached, looking remarkably healthy, sporting bandages on his head and across his bare stomach and chest. At the police chief's concerned frown, Curt flicked his wrist, rolled right up to the bed and grinned wide. Then in a fluid motion, he stood and sent the chair careening away.

"It's all good, Pops," he said, smiling wide, moving with ease. Seemed like Curt had been a shaggy-haired kid just yesterday. But in front of him, Tony found a man… until Curt winked. Yeah, there was the kid they all loved. Part serious young man, part flirt, part smart-ass.

And as quickly as the glint appeared in the young man's eyes, it disappeared, and he turned somber.

Tony watched with a welling of pride as his boy settled on the edge of the bed and grasped the chief's hand.

"I didn't mean to cause so much trouble, Pops," he earnestly said, squeezing Tony's hand.

"You didn't," the police chief replied, staring into the eyes of the young Marine. "This wasn't you – if anything, you did the smart thing. The right thing."

"I could've gotten you killed," Curt murmured, breaking eye contact for the first time and diverting his gaze down to the thin white blanket covering Tony's legs.

The older man lay quiet, waiting for the younger man to gather his emotions; fatigue swam around his leaden limbs, and he could feel his eyes growing heavy. Yet Tony couldn't just let Curt sink into these feelings. The kid didn't deserve this.

So he waited, battling the onslaught of weariness, until Curt finally looked up into his eyes.

"I spent years doing this," Tony explained. "I've been shot, stabbed, poisoned. I've been the victim of a biological attack. I've gone up against terrorists, been on the business end of bombs. Plural. And I've watched a lot of friends die. Most died in the line of fire. A few didn't."

Drawing a deep breath, Tony let the images of Caitlin Todd pass through his mind. It still hurt, even after all these years. As a fine mist built up in his eyes, he continued, "And through it all, I knew I could survive the loss of my friends."

Flipping his hand over, Tony gripped Curt's palm, squeezed tight, and said, "I got past each of their deaths. I'd never get over yours."

The hum of the overhead lights filled the room as the two men, neither used to emotional displays, slowly let their worlds equalize.

Eventually, from where she'd retreated to sit and spin around in the wheelchair, Emily piped up, "Are you two having a Hallmark moment?"

X X X

For the most part, Tony slept the day away, waking up only to eat and say his goodbyes to his former teammates as they headed back to the nation's capital. Every time Tony started to become alert, a nurse walked in, smiled benignly, and injected something to make him sleep. All because of his damn lungs. Again.

This last time, though, he stayed awake. For the last twenty minutes, he and Curt had been sitting quietly, talking. The police chief hadn't realized just how much he'd missed these quiet talks with the only other man in the house.

The older man's mood had soured, though, when the doctor had broken the bad news. Unfortunately, Michaela and the girls had walked into the room just as the physician left.

"Ignore him," Curt told the newly arrived visitors. "He's annoyed because he has to stay and I get to go home."

Pouting, the police chief glared at his kid, giving him the evil eye, only to find he couldn't muster up the energy. Not with so many people in the room. And especially not when Michaela sauntered over, leaned down, and kissed him languidly.

Which raised his mood considerably.

"So that was for…?" he asked.

"Consider it payment in advance for not being a complete ass while you recover," she replied with a smirk, making sure to pet him soothingly.

It wasn't until he damn near purred that Tony realized he'd just been played, and reached up to regrettably stop the stroking hand.

The first time his lover had ever stroked his hair, Tony had been hit with such a massive bout of homesickness that he'd bolted out of her bed. That simple touch of her hand, the very first time they'd slept together, had sent him into an emotional upheaval. For days, he'd avoided talking to her. They'd eventually had a massive fight in which he'd finally admitted to completely freaking out; but not before she'd asked if he was gay.

The next time she'd run her fingers through his hair, making sure to stop and caress the back of his head, he'd nearly wept at the sensation. It had been covered quickly, though, leading to other more thoroughly satisfying things. However, she'd noted his reaction.

Michaela had made a habit of finding ways to touch his head, his face, and his neck. Just that bit of contact brought him peace – calming him during the worst of times.

So he couldn't deny her as she slowly disentangled her hand from his and ran her index finger across his cheek, over and over.

"All right," he eventually relented, giving her a glassy-eyed grin.

Boy did he suddenly feel tired. He didn't remember being given a sleeping aid of any kind, but considering how relaxed he felt with his kids smiling from the end of the bed and Michaela soothingly telling him she'd take care of everything, he drifted into sleepy-land.

His last coherent thought had to do with wishing for a jukebox of dreams, so he could drop in a few coins and choose a day of indulgence.

X X X

The first thing Tony noticed when he awoke was that he wasn't alone. It wasn't just that someone else was in the room. Someone lay next to him in the bed. The very small hospital bed.

Grinning, he kissed the top of Emily's head and winked at Mary, who sat in the chair next to him.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"It's nine in the morning. The doctor's going to release you this morning," she replied, primly sitting up in her chair. With an air of authority, the teenager informed him, "Curtis went home with Ian. Ducky's staying at the house and is going to keep an eye on him for a few days."

Which meant someone pulled some strings in the military. Not only had Tony and Curt been flown to a civilian hospital in Bangor, but the boy wasn't being sent immediately back to his unit. That required a few favors.

"Mike's gonna take us home," Emily murmured into Tony's chest, making him grin.

Home. His own bed. The light at the end of the tunnel.

He could get back to his life. That thought alone made his grin turn a smile of satisfaction. It didn't last long, though.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you," Mary said, with a hint of excitement in her voice. "Your friend Abby's staying with us for a few days. She said you promised to talk to her about some stuff."

Enthusiastically, the teenager leaned in and added, "I really like her, Pops. She's cool."

"Me, too," Emily concurred from where she lay, her eyes still closed.

Tony mulled Abby's visit over in his mind, letting the notion settle into place. Until he'd stepped into her lab and seen her black pigtails bopping to the music, he hadn't realized just how much he'd missed his best friend. Yeah, having her stay would be good – a chance to fix what he broke all those years ago.

So Tony was smiling when Mary added, "I have her using the room Esther was using."

Confused, Tony asked, "Where's Esther staying? Did you move her down to the media room? I thought Ducky was staying there."

"Oh, Ducky is staying in your movie theater. We pulled the Murphy bed out for him," Mary explained. "I'm bunking with Emily. It's just, with Curt back in his room, and you in yours, that only left the couch. Our couches aren't exactly the most comfortable."

Feeling slightly dizzy from the explanation, Tony paused a moment to get it all straight in his head, before he finally said, "That's all fine and dandy, but we have one other room available. The one right across from where you put Abby."

Frowning, he looked at Mary and asked, "Why are you shaking your head 'no'?"

"Oh, it's just that room's taken, too," the teenager explained.

"Oh!" Tony exclaimed. "That's where you moved Esther?"

"Nope, Esther's not staying with us right now. She's using Ian's guest room," Mary explained.

"Why?" Tony asked, thoroughly confused by now.

"Because," Emily explained with an exaggerated roll, "we had to find someplace for Agent Gibbs to stay."

He didn't know if the sense of unease that settled over him bothered him nearly as much as when Mary quietly said, "We like Agent Gibbs. He helped you save Curt."

Whether the older NCIS agent knew it yet or not, and much to Tony's chagrin, that meant he'd just become a member of the family.