A/N: I'm not sure you really did like that last chapter, as there was not that much feedback this time, but who am I to complain ;) You guys are awesome to even take the time to read this! Thanks!

Chapter Two: Normalization

Tony took a deep breath before he entered Gibbs' house – their house – for the first time since the older man had been admitted to the hospital. He hadn't dared to come back here in fear of what it might do to his already battered state of mind. He still didn't want to go in there for too many reasons, but he had to. He had to because he needed a shower and fresh clothes before going back to the office. As much as he hated to admit it, Vance had been right. He needed to get back to work because he simply needed the money – they needed the money in the long run to get through this. Jethro's insurance covered most of his stay at the hospital, but it didn't cover much of anything else and Tony knew that if Gibbs would ever be well enough to go home, they'd need stuff there, too. So, grudgingly, he had called Vance a couple of days ago and had told him he would go back to work, starting Monday. Abby, McGee and Ziva had expressed their joy about his decision, but Tony couldn't help but notice the slight hesitation in their eyes. He had no clue what had brought it up, but he guessed it had to do with them being back on cold cases or that they didn't like being ordered around by him.

He didn't care either way because he knew that his heart wasn't in it anyway. In fact, he hated going back to work and leaving Gibbs alone like that. Remorse had already made itself perceivable as he had left the sleeping guy earlier today in order to go home. He had tried to explain to him that it was necessary and it had seemed like Gibbs had been listening, too, but Tony couldn't be sure he actually had. It didn't make it easier, knowing that the older man might wonder where he was and why he wasn't at his side all of a sudden.

Brushing his insecurity aside for a moment, Tony finally entered the house, internally bracing himself for the familiar smell of wood and coffee and well, Gibbs that would hit him as soon as he'd set a foot in there. But as he slowly exhaled, he had to realize that it didn't smell like him at all anymore. It was like the other guy had never been there in the first place and Tony closed his eyes for a moment, trying to find his inner balance again. Ducky or Jackson or someone had obviously made sure that their plants had been watered regularly and by doing so had apparently made sure that the house stayed well-kept. And by ensuring that, they had apparently chased off Gibbs' smell from there.

It was weird being there. It had been Tony's home for almost two years now and yet without the other man in it, it didn't feel like that at all. His refuge whenever times were getting rough didn't seem like a refuge anymore. It felt empty and impersonal. And Tony suddenly felt lonely – indescribably lonely.

He subtly shook his head, then almost carefully climbed the stairs up towards the bathroom and stripped slowly and deliberately. He exhaled when the first stream of warm water touched his back. God, he had missed this shower. The water was relaxing on his strong, smooth skin. The longer the spray of water hit him, the more relaxed Tony seemed to become. The water pressure was just perfect, it was heavy but not really sharp, massaging his back and washing away the stresses of the previous weeks. Or it almost did. Because as soon as he had reached for the soap, Tony realized that there was only Jethro's usual one there. The generic one that didn't seem to have any flavor and yet Tony would forever associate it with Jethro's unique scent of exactly that soap, coffee and wood. Sighing, Tony hurried to wash up, unable to stay in there any longer all of a sudden. When he had dried off, he stepped into their bedroom and hurried to pick out a suit and boxer shorts, but stopped dead when his gaze reached Jethro's usual white undershirts. Without really thinking of what he was doing, he grabbed one of them and slipped in, inhaling the scent that was still clinging to it. At least one goddamn thing still smelled of his partner.

Quickly glancing at his watch, Tony realized that he was running late on his first day of work, so he hurried to get completely dressed. As he chanced a gaze into the mirror, he stopped short, though. The suit, that had once fit him like a glove, was now hanging rather loosely on him. When had he lost that much weight? He had rarely moved these last couple of weeks and he had eaten, hadn't he? He ran a hand through his hair and only realized now that Ziva had been right before. He actually was in a desperate need of a haircut. When had all of that happened without him even realizing? Of course, all of this, his appearance was rarely of importance right now, but he was Tony DiNozzo after all and he did care about stuff like that. But maybe that was it. He just didn't care anymore. He didn't care that his hair was much too long, he didn't care that his suit didn't fit anymore because there was no one who would scold him for it. Because the only one who would do exactly that didn't even remember what Tony had looked like four months ago. He simply didn't remember.

.

For what seemed like the hundredth time today, Tony steeled himself as the elevator doors to his floor opened. He could do this. This was just work, cold cases nonetheless. He'd just have sit through eight hours and then he could go back to Jethro. No big deal. He would tease Ziva and McGee and then bury himself in work because that was the stuff he was good at. He was the master of displacement after all. But as soon as he had as much as rounded the corner to his desk and had thrown his backpack next to it, he felt his heart pick up pace. He hadn't been prepared that it would be like that. Just – so normal. He had done it a million times before, had thrown the exact same backpack towards the same exact spot a million times and had sat down on his chair just as many times. It was oddly normal and yet everything was different. He squeezed his eyes shut to organize the thoughts in his mind before he quickly looked over towards Gibbs' abandoned desk. With a sinking feeling in his gut, he realized that nothing had changed. There were still pictures pinned to the walls, his computer was still standing on the same spot and Tony could just make out Jethro's glasses that were still lying where the older man had last placed them. It was like nothing had happened.

Deciding that now was not the time for a major freak-out, Tony averted his glance and concentrated on the computer screen in front of him. He had things to do here, had to check his emails, had to look at cold cases. He simply didn't have time to get wound up in thoughts about the past, in thoughts about Gibbs. So, he set to work – just like nothing had happened, just like nothing was out of the ordinary.

.

McGee and Ziva had arrived at some point, greeting him enthusiastically and Tony had tried to return the sentiment but he apparently hadn't managed to do it to their satisfaction. He caught McGee cast a glance at Ziva more than once whenever he thought Tony wasn't looking and even though Tony knew that it wasn't with malicious intent, he couldn't help but feel that way. He knew that they were probably just worrying about him but that didn't mean that he liked it. As the day went on, Tony felt himself get more paranoid by the second. Sometime around three o'clock in the afternoon, he finally had enough.

"McGee, what is it?"

"Sorry?" the younger man replied, averting his eyes from Ziva to look at Tony instead.

"What is it that you want to tell Ziva so desperately but can't because I'm sitting right here? Just spit it out. I'm sure I can take it whatever it is."

"Uh," McGee pressed out, his eyes darting back towards Ziva who had her gaze fixed on Tony, though, and didn't see him. "Nothing. It's just you're really quiet today. It kind of freaks me out."

"Well, I'm sorry, McGee, but I'm trying to work here. And in case you didn't know, I don't like cold cases all that much."

"I know," Tim just sighed and then turned away from Tony again to stare at his computer screen instead and Tony was just settling, too, when Ziva suddenly spoke up.

"Do not be mad at us," she said calmly. "We just worry, that is all. You do understand that, yes?"

"Yeah, Ziva," Tony replied barely above a whisper. "But there's nothing to worry about, okay? I'm fine. I'm here. I'm working. That is all everybody wanted. I'm not the one you should be worrying about right now."

"But you will come to us if there is something that… bothers you?" she pressed on, her eyes never leaving Tony's.

"Yeah," he just answered, knowing that it was the expected answer.

He knew that they meant well, but he didn't need their sympathy. He was fine. It didn't matter that his heart missed a beat every time his glance reached Gibbs' empty desk. It didn't matter that every time he found something wrong about the cold case files, he was on the verge of calling out a "Hey Boss" to alert him of it. And it certainly didn't matter that every time he took a deep breath, Gibbs' smell reached his nostrils because he was wearing his goddamn shirt. All of that didn't matter because he was okay. He wasn't the one that was lying in a hospital bed with no clue what exactly was going on around him. He wasn't the one that was probably wondering where his partner had vanished to all of a sudden.

So, really, there wasn't anything worry about at all.

.

By Friday, however, Tony couldn't help but realize that work was hell.

And that it was heaven all the same.

He hated it there because he didn't like cold cases, didn't like the looks he was getting from the others. He hated the fact that he was leaving Gibbs alone for over eight hours. Hated the fact that he couldn't be there whenever something happened – not that there was anything. And yet, Tony couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved whenever he left the hospital in the mornings because for the next eight hours he would be able to concentrate on something different than Gibbs' health. Of course, he worried about it at work, too, but it was rather a constant in the back of his head and that was much more tolerable than the blank fear whenever he looked at the guy. Also, Tony had to realize that he was always looking forward to go back to the hospital at around half past six in the evening. He found that he missed Gibbs. Missed looking at him, missed talking to him and missed his presence. And it somehow made it so much easier to tear himself away from him in the mornings.

He still wasn't sleeping very well and he still wasn't going home, as he stayed at the hospital every night, but it didn't seem like it mattered much. He was slowly finding a sort of balance again and it didn't even matter that he was dead on his feet most of the time. But even he had to realize that things were slowly going back to normal. Not like it had been before – it never would be like that ever again – but he seemed to function more naturally again. He didn't need to remind himself to get up in the mornings, didn't need to remind himself to eat something and didn't need to remind himself to give someone a smile when they were nice to him. All those things came to him naturally again and even though it seemed all so wrong, he knew that it was healthy, too. So he let it happen, knowing that the others were slowly becoming more relaxed around him because of it, too.

Consequently, it wasn't very hard for Tony to give his okay to pursue a suspect when McGee had found a new lead on one of their cold cases on Friday. He hadn't known of course that it would lead them to a much bigger case that would leave them without as much as a nap for the next three days. They had to find the killer of not one but three petty officers. They had been killed over the duration of a whole year and Tony and the others hadn't made the connection between them all until McGee had looked up their financial records and had realized that they had all given large amounts of money to one and the same person, one Matthew Fox. Fox had been nowhere to be found, but Abby had worked some of her magic by Sunday and had found his photo on a fake driver's license. They finally located him on Monday and brought him in.

Tony let Ziva do the interrogation because he simply couldn't muster up the energy to do it. He was glad that they had caught the guy, was glad that he had done the right thing in coming back to work in the first place. But it didn't stop his guilty conscience to resurface as soon as Ziva had opened her mouth to speak in the other room. He was sure that they had caught the right guy and he was just as sure that Ziva was perfectly capable to break him, but he suddenly realized that he hadn't been worrying about Gibbs those last couple of days. He had been so wrapped up in the case that he hadn't found the time to visit him in the hospital. He had called there twice a day to make sure that the guy was still alright but he knew that that was hardly enough. He simply couldn't leave him alone like that, could he? And yet, as he watched Ziva talk to the perp, eliciting the fact that he had blackmailed the petty officers so that he wouldn't tell their wives about their affairs, Tony couldn't help but finding himself able to breathe freely again. He should have felt bad about it and he did - and yet the thought was oddly soothing.

It was soothing to know that he could function without the other guy there. He knew that he had to do that in the end anyway, had to accept the fact that Gibbs wasn't likely to come back to work ever again and yet, he hadn't anticipated that it would happen so soon.

Was one hot case really enough to forget about all the other stuff? Tony knew that it wasn't but he also noticed that he had been so distracted over the last few days that the overwhelming fear that had plagued him for months now had somehow diminished somewhat. It was still there, hanging like a thunderhead right over his head, but in some way he didn't feel like it could come crashing down on him any second anymore.

But before Tony could dwell on the thought for too long, Ziva had cracked their suspect as he admitted to having killed the three men as they had refused to pay him even more money. The team had written their reports by six o'clock and Tony dismissed the other two, telling them to go home and get some rest. He knew that he desperately needed some rest, too, but he couldn't let himself have it just yet. Maybe at night when Jethro was asleep, maybe then he'd get some shut-eye, too.

.

An hour later, he quietly opened the door to Jethro's room. It was a little too early for the man to be already asleep but Tony didn't want to take any chances. Waking up the sleeping man was the last thing he wanted. He knew that he needed to sleep as much as he could. As he closed the door behind him, however, he heard some rustling coming from the direction of the bed and he knew that he hadn't missed Jethro's waking hours after all. With a smile on his lips, he turned around and was momentarily caught completely off guard because Jethro was not only looking him straight in the eyes but seemed to sport the slightest of smiles, too. Ever since he had woken up from his coma, he had never smiled. But right now, he was most definitely doing it. Tony stared at him for a few moments, unable to move and hence breaking up their moment. So he just stood there by the door, staring and smiling back at him, never averting his eyes from Jethro's blue ones.

Did Jethro actually recognize him? Had he maybe even missed him over the last couple of days, just like Tony had missed him? Was that really possible?

Like in trance, Tony finally stepped forward and then managed to find his voice again.

"Hey," he said barely above a whisper, still too afraid to scare away that wonderful moment.

But Jethro just continued to look at him and then, to Tony's utter surprise, lifted his left hand. First, Tony had no idea why Gibbs was doing it but then, with a weird feeling in his stomach that he usually only got whenever Gibbs had kissed him, he realized that the other man was trying to wave his hand. Feeling his heart pick up pace and the smile on his lips get even broader, Tony took another step forward.

"Hey," he said again, sitting down right next to the bed. "I missed you so much."

The smile on Gibbs' face never wavered, even as he let his rather shaky hand drop back onto the mattress. He just continued to look at Tony for a very long time and for the first time since Jethro had woken up all those weeks ago, Tony was sure that he was actually looking at Jethro, was actually looking at the man he had fallen in love with all those years ago.

And he was sure that right at that moment, Jethro knew who Tony was, too. At least, Tony fervently hoped that that smile told him exactly that.

A/N: Hope you liked it and that you'll also like the season premiere tonight. At least I'm really excited about it xD