A/N: Thanks again for your awesome reviews!

Part IV: Constructing

Chapter One: Inception

In retrospect, Tony wasn't quite sure how he had survived the couple of weeks that followed. The others had done their best to keep him distracted without being too obvious about it, but it had only helped him through the first two weeks until he had given it up. He couldn't pretend to enjoy himself when he was out clubbing with Abby or at a much quieter bar with McGee. He couldn't pretend to look after beautiful women and couldn't pretend that he was sleeping well at night. Knowing that the others were growing concerned about him, he tried to plaster a smile on his face whenever he was around them, hoping to fool them at least to a certain degree. He had done it before after all. He could play the class clown and everybody would be satisfied. He still was doing it from time to time, but it didn't work quite that well anymore. Maybe it was because his new role as team leader or because the others simply knew him too well by now. It hardly matter anyway. They all knew that he was suffering and they all knew that he had to go through it on his own.

It would have been easier if there were any improvements at all, but there simply was nothing. He was still preoccupied with not thinking about Gibbs and was still hardly sleeping because he either couldn't fall asleep or would wake up from one dream of the guy or another. Sometimes he would wake up screaming whenever the well-known nightmare of the perp with the baseball bat threatened to eat him up alive. Fortunately, Ziva never heard him or at least pretended not to. She had done so much for him those last couple of weeks that Tony sometimes wondered how he had earned all of it. She was never impatient with him, never asked him to leave her apartment and she would just sit with him at night, watching one movie or another, just being there for him in case he needed her. But Tony knew that it was time to move on – and move out. He couldn't stay at her place forever, he was hogging all her leisure time and stealing the time she would have normally spent with Lucas. She never complained, but Tony knew that he needed to get out there.

McGee had volunteered his apartment without being asked in the first place and that was why Tony and Abby were on their way to bring his stuff to Tim's place now. It wasn't much, only most of his suits and his DVDs because the rest of his stuff was still at Gibbs'. He hadn't been there since Jethro had asked him to be friends, too afraid to cave after all. It didn't mean that he didn't miss him because he did, did it so much - too much for his own good - but he simply couldn't bring himself to see him.

"Have you looked at new apartments, yet?" Abby asked, interrupting his gloomy thoughts.

Tony felt himself stiffen up for a moment before he forcefully relaxed and shook his head.

"No."

"Why not?" Abby said, sideways glancing at him.

"I don't know. I think," Tony slowly answered, trying to find the right words for the chaos that was his mind these days. "It would be like giving up, you know. Moving out from Gibbs' would mean that I admitted defeat."

"I know," Abby replied softly, squeezing his thigh for a moment before she continued. "But you have to move on eventually, Tony."

Feeling his insides clench at the mere thought of it, Tony trained his eyes on the road in front of them, trying to relax in order not to let her see how much this conversation was eating up his last hope.

"I can't just yet, Abs. I'm not ready."

"Fair enough," the Goth answered so quietly that Tony chanced a sideway glance at her.

She was staring at him intently, her brows knitted, her expression serious. She remained silent for a while and just when Tony thought that she would drop the topic, she started talking again, her tone of voice more empathic than before.

"Don't fool yourself for too long, okay?"

"Is that what I'm doing? Fooling myself?" Tony asked as he pulled over into a free parking space in front of McGee's apartment complex.

"I don't know, but when has Gibbs ever changed his mind about anything before?"

"Never," Tony answered, wishing they had never opened that particular can of worms. "But he's not the old Gibbs anymore, either. He's not the same than before."

"I know, Tony," Abby replied and took his hand in hers. "I just don't want to see you get hurt again. I thought it was your decision not to be friends with him?"

"It was," Tony all but whispered. "It was. And I don't really think that he'll come around and want to be with me. I know that it won't happen. But as long as my stuff is still over there, there's this tiny little hope somewhere that maybe things will get back to normal, you know? I know it's stupid, I know that, but I'm just not ready to put the definite end to it all. I'm just not there yet."

"Okay, but be careful, okay?" Abby whispered and then kissed his cheek. "Don't hurt yourself in the process.

.

A couple of weeks with no word from Gibbs, with hot case after hot case and quiet evenings watching movies with McGee, Tony couldn't help but realize that he was slowly but steadily degrading. He was tired all the time, wasn't up for anything but work and his movies. It was hard for him to even make a joke and he didn't know how to change it around again. McGee and the others were trying hard with him and he appreciated it, but they somehow never managed to make him feel better. Tony had thought that it would get better with time, but as far as he could see it had only gotten worse. Work had been the only useful distraction and he had come to realize that he loved being the team lead when the others actually followed his orders. The cases had kept them busy those last couple of weeks, leaving them barely with a second to catch their breaths.

.

"DiNozzo, my office," Vance startled him out of his thoughts about his latest case report one Wednesday evening.

Casting a fugitive glance at both Ziva and McGee, who just shrugged, Tony hurried to get up the stairs and into the director's office, trying to recall all the recent cases and where he could have made any mistake. But when he entered the office, he was surprised that Vance was sitting on the couch, gesturing him to do the same. So, Tony sat down on one of the chairs opposite from him, raising an eyebrow in question. Vance gave him a quick smirk before he handed him the four files that had been lying on the table between them.

"Here are the four candidates for the open spot on your team. Read them carefully, talk to Agents David and McGee and then let me know your decision by Monday."

"Wait, wait," Tony spoke up, his eyes still resting on the file on top which read 'Ned Dorneget'. "What do you mean, open spot on my team?"

"I thought it was time to replace Gibbs, DiNozzo. He's not coming back after all and the three of you are missing a teammate."

"What do you mean, he's not coming back?" Tony checked back, feeling his heart picking up pace.

Vance looked at him for a moment, furrowing his brow before he slowly answered. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"He resigned last week due to medical reasons. He's retired, DiNozzo."

Tony stared at him for a moment or two, trying to wrap his head around the possibility of Gibbs not coming back. He knew that it had been quite obvious that he wouldn't be, but why hadn't he told him, why had nobody told Tony that he had finally decided to take that step? Why did he have to learn through Vance of all people?

"Like hell he is," he finally mumbled and then without another glance at Vance left his office.

He ran down the stairs and grabbed his coat and bag, murmuring something about calling him when something came up to Ziva and McGee before he stormed towards the elevators. Half an hour later he pulled over into the driveway of Gibbs' house, waiting in vain for the omnipresent pain in his chest whenever he thought about anything related to the older man. It didn't come this time and Tony realized that he was too angry and too disappointed to feel sad right now, so he got out of the car and then determinedly made his way into the house. He was already halfway towards the basement when he realized that Gibbs, strangely enough, was sitting on his couch watching some James Bond movie starring Sean Connery. Trying to hide his surprise, Tony changed his route and went over into the living room, placing himself between Jethro and the television. Gibbs just looked up at him, the faintest of a smile on his face before he composed his features and sat up.

"You resigned?" Tony finally inquired.

Gibbs stared at him for a moment or two, his expression impassive before he finally shrugged and then nodded.

"Why?"

"Why?" Gibbs replied, his voice strong and sure. "I c-can hardly g-go out into the field anymore."

Tony looked at him and then nodded, realizing that he was right after all. His left leg was still not at its old level and probably never would be again, but that was still no reason to resign from NCIS completely.

"You could do desk work," he finally said, not even knowing why he wanted to persuade the guy to stay when it almost physically hurt just to look at him.

"C-Come one, I c-can't do desk work. I would go c-crazy. You wouldn't do it, either."

Tony continued to stare at him, trying to suppress the sudden feeling of pride that threatened to well up inside of him due to the guy's much improved articulation. He hadn't thought that it would get back to almost normal so soon.

"I would," he finally answered, anger replacing pride in an instant. "In fact, I have done nothing but paper work most of last year in order to be… there for you."

Gibbs remained silent and let out a sigh as he sank back into the cushions of his couch, rubbing a hand over his face.

"S-sorry?" he finally offered, but Tony just shook his head.

"No. It doesn't matter anymore," the younger man pressed out. "You could teach FLETC classes."

"That's what Vance t-told me, t-too. But," Gibbs stopped for a moment, his eyes finally locking into Tony's. "I c-can't even t-talk right now and… I don't think head slaps are an appropriate t-teaching m-method."

Tony almost let out a laugh at that but held it back just in time. He didn't want to laugh, even if this was the first joke he had heard Gibbs tell since his coma. Trying to fight down the well-known feeling of loneliness, he tried to focus on what he had come here to say. It didn't matter that Gibbs' reasons were prudent. He couldn't just go away from NCIS like that.

"So that's it? You're giving up? Just like that?"

"What else is there?" Gibbs replied indignantly as he stared right back at Tony, his expression giving away nothing for the moment.

"What else is there?" Tony all but shouted now. "We are there! McGee, Abby, Ziva, Ducky! You want to give all of that up? You want to throw away everything that is you?"

Gibbs never moved, had not even flinched at the shouted words as he just continued to look into Tony's eyes.

"Fine!" Tony finally continued. "Fine, go ahead. Do it. Just don't ask us what we think, don't even tell us that you want to leave. It doesn't matter. Apparently we're not that important to you. Just walk away from us and everything that ever mattered to you."

He stared at the older man for a moment longer waiting for something that never came before he huffed and then turned to leave. Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw Gibbs move after all, reaching out for Tony's forearm, but he was quicker this time and pulled it away from him.

"Tony," Gibbs finally said without his usual stutter.

"What?"

"I wanted to c-call you."

That stopped Tony from walking out for the time being as he turned around, seeing Gibbs shakily get to his feet.

"Then why didn't you?" he eventually asked, barely above a whisper. "Why didn't you?"

"I didn't know whether you wanted m-me t-to," Gibbs replied equally quiet, taking a step towards him. "You don't want t-to be f-friends, I just didn't know whether you… whether you…"

The younger man stared at him for a long time unsure how to even answer. Gibbs was right, of course, he had told him that he didn't want to be friends.

"You're right," he finally mumbled. "I guess it really is none of my business. I just… I just… I don't know."

"I did want t-to c-call you," Gibbs replied, taking another step towards him. "I was p-planning on t-telling the others this week. I just didn't know how t-to t-tell you."

"Look Gibbs," Tony finally got out of his headspace. "You can tell me stuff like that. I mean… This stuff is important and I don't want you to feel like you couldn't talk to me. Just because I can't do this friends thing right now, doesn't mean that I don't ever want to talk to you."

Now that he had said it, Tony realized that it was true. He actually really did want to talk to Gibbs, even if it was still weird and rather painful to do. Maybe it would get better with time...

"'Kay," Gibbs interrupted his thoughts as he sank down onto the couch.

"And you're really set in your decision?"

"Yeah."

"But," Tony started but was rudely interrupted by his cell phone, flashing the number of Dispatch. "Damn it," he swore quietly before he picked up, knowing that he would never finish that particular conversation with Gibbs now.

.

A couple of weeks had passed since his visit to Gibbs', with McGee, Ziva and Tony making the decision to give Dorneget a shot on their team as they were already kind of friends with him anyway, and with a couple of stressful cases. Tony couldn't refrain from realizing, though, that not much had changed within him despite all the changes that had happened around him. He was still too focused on work, was still too quiet for his own good to such a degree that Ziva and McGee had started glancing at each other again whenever they thought he wasn't looking. The fact that Abby insisted to go out with him more than usually hadn't slipped his attention, either, but somehow he just didn't care about any of it. It simply didn't matter. Neither Abby, nor McGee or Ziva would be able to make it better. None of them could and Tony was even sure that even he, himself, couldn't do it. He just didn't know how. He had tried so many things already to distract himself, but nothing seemed to work. Gibbs hadn't called or visited ever since Tony had talked to him about his retirement and the younger man didn't know what it was supposed to mean. Did Gibbs just want to give him space or did he simply not want to talk to him? He guessed that he could just go talk to Ducky or Jackson or even Fornell, but he wasn't quite sure he really wanted to know what the reason for Gibbs' silence was. So he just didn't ask and didn't drive by his old home.

He simply didn't do anything.

.

Tony flopped down on his bed on a Friday evening when they had finally managed to get out of work on time for once. He had declined McGee's offer to go out and grab a couple of beers as he really just wanted to go to bed and sleep. He was tired beyond belief and was looking forward to a lazy weekend staying in and watching a couple of movies.

A couple of hours later, he restlessly drifted in and out of sleep like he always did when he was suddenly able to hear faint voices just outside his bedroom. He hadn't heard someone ringing the bell of knocking at the door, but it didn't matter much. He wasn't interested in any late night visitors coming to McGee's. It was none of his business anyway. Trying to fall back asleep, Tony closed his eyes and was just about to turn around when a familiar voice reached his ears.

"C-can I t-talk t-to him?" he heard Gibbs say and Tony finally sat up and then quietly made his way towards the door, but didn't dare to open it just yet.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Gibbs," McGee was answering at the moment, to Tony's surprise with an air of authority in his voice that he hadn't heard directed at Gibbs before.

"Why the hell not?" the older man inquired now and Tony could picture the furious look on his face that he always got whenever he was impatient and rather furious.

"He's already asleep," McGee just replied, his voice still smooth and calm and for a brief moment Tony wondered when the younger agent had found the courage to speak up to Gibbs like that.

"It's n-not even n-nine," Jethro said now and chancing a quick look at this watch, Tony realized that he was right, it was only 2100, despite the fact that Tony had been in bed for hours.

"Yeah, well," Tim just said. "Want do you want from him?"

"T-talk to him."

"What about?"

"N-none of your damn b-business."

"Oh," McGee replied and his voice was still not shaky and it suddenly made Tony all fuzzy inside. "It's none of my business? I think it is, Gibbs, because the guy has been staying at my place for weeks now. At first I thought it would be fun having him around and that he would drive me crazy because he's messy and stuff. But you know what? He's none of these things. He cleans up after himself when he comes home from work, he even does my dishes without complaint and then he just shuts himself into my guest room. He doesn't do anything, Gibbs, and I have no idea how to help him because he simply doesn't want me to help. Or anyone for that matter. He just doesn't let us. So you're saying that it's none of my business what you want to tell him? Think again because he is my business right now."

Tony let his forehead fall against the door now as the other two remained silent in the other room. He tried to hold back the tears that threatened to slip through his eyelids. He hadn't realized before just how much McGee cared about him and how worried he really was. Why did Tony always give him the runabout when he wanted to do something with him? Was it really that hard to go out for a couple of beers once in a while? He was startled out of thoughts, though, when Gibbs finally spoke up again, much softer than before.

"I thought you wanted m-me t-to t-talk t-to him?"

"I did," McGee replied, his voice quieter, too. "But that was before I realized… I mean… Gibbs, he's depressed, really depressed and we all know why that is. I know it's not your fault, okay? I know that and I also know you didn't mean to, but I just… I just think it wouldn't be a good idea for you to talk to him right now. Whatever it is you want to tell him."

"McGee," Gibbs started, but then fell silent again and Tony would have given his left arm to see his expression right now because he sounded so broken that it almost broke his heart.

Then, he realized that he just had to open the door to see him and just as he was about to do exactly that, his hand already resting on the handle, McGee finally spoke up again.

"I really don't think it's a good idea. I'll tell him you stopped by, okay?"

"No need to," Tony said, opening the door, causing McGee to jump ever so slightly.

Tim turned around to look at him, worry clearly visible on his face. He searched for eye contact and then apparently found what he had been looking for in Tony's face because he simply nodded and then disappeared into his own bedroom in order to give them some privacy.

"Hey," Tony finally turned to look at Gibbs, his heart stuttering as he realized that Gibbs was wearing one of his old OSU hoodies.

"Hi," Gibbs just said, giving him the slightest of smiles while all the while his eyes were looking rather sadly at him.

"What's up?" Tony finally said when the older man made no move to explain his sudden appearance.

"I… wanted t-to t-talk t-to you."

"Okay. Then talk."

"Tony," Gibbs started, his eyes locking into the younger man's as he made a step towards him. "I… want t-to… I m-mean…"

"What, Gibbs?" Tony asked, the older man's sudden nervousness making him restless. "What is it?"

"M-miss you," Gibbs pressed out after a moment of prolonged silence, causing Tony to take a step back, his heart once again picking up pace.

"Gibbs," he finally answered, his voice shaky all of a sudden. "We've talked about this… it's not enough. Please, don't do this to me again."

"N-no," the older man replied, reducing the space between them. "I m-miss you, m-miss you."

"I don't think I understand," Tony said, his pulse suddenly rushing loudly through his ears as he felt his breaths coming rather shallowly.

He couldn't do this again, he couldn't have the same conversation with the other man when the last one had nearly killed him. He didn't understand why Gibbs would want to talk about it again when there was really nothing left to discuss.

"Listen, Tony," Gibbs started over, his eyes never leaving Tony's. "'m m-miserable without you. These last c-couple of weeks have b-been… n-not great. I m-miss having you around. I wish I would re-remember, I really d-do. But I… c-can't."

"It doesn't change anything, Jethro," Tony mumbled, casting his eyes down, unable to look at him any longer. "You already told me all of this."

"N-no, you d-don't understand," Gibbs vehemently disagreed with him, causing him to look up after all. "What I want t-to say is that I m-might n-not remember us or what we used t-to be, but I know that I m-miss you n-now. I have f-fallen in l-love with you before… so why sh-shouldn't I be able t-to… t-to do that again?"

Tony stared at him, his eyes wide as he let the words sink in slowly. He felt like crying, felt like grabbing the guy by the collar of his shirt and throw him out of the apartment and felt like just breaking down there and then. But he didn't do any of these things. He just kept on standing there, staring at the other man, whose cheeks were slightly flushed, whose hand was grabbing his cane so tightly that his knuckles had turned white again and whose eyes were so bright that for a moment, Tony thought he could lose himself in them for all times to come.

"Jethro," he finally said. "What… I mean… why?"

"Miss you," the older man just shrugged.

"What do you want?" Tony whispered, suddenly hyperaware of the fact that McGee was likely to eavesdrop on their conversation. "I mean… what are you asking?"

"'m asking you for a d-date, I guess. And f-for another chance. The l-last one."

Tony remained silent once again as he stared at the older man, trying to decide whether he actually was awake and not having one of those cruel nightmares when his subconscious mind wanted to deceive him that Gibbs indeed wanted to have him back.