A/N: this is my third try at this chapter – hope this is the last! Thanks to all who took the time to review and favorite/follow. If I missed responding to anyone who reviewed, it wasn't intentional, just ran out of time. Not beta'd.
It had been a long, rough night for both of them, but Tony had finally fallen into a sleep deep enough to keep from waking in a panic thinking he was smothering to death. Part of it was from sheer exhaustion, the other part might have been from the shot of bourbon Gibbs had allowed him to drink after dinner to ease the constant tickle in his throat. They both knew Ducky would have never condoned it, but Ducky wasn't there, and Gibbs was tired of watching the kid suffer. He'd gone to the kitchen, searched a cupboard for a bottle of 'the good stuff' that Tobias Fornell had brought by last Christmas, and poured a healthy dose of it for his second. Tony didn't have to be told to sip the expensive liquor, he knew full well how to handle Macallen 18, and enjoyed it to the last drop in the quilted jelly jar.
"Nice – jar, Gibbs." he whispered, holding up the 'tumbler'. "Better quality than – a regular – jam jar. Fancier."
"Just shut up and drink it, DiNozzo." his boss grouched, with no real heat in his voice.
And Tony had, and at about one in the morning had all but passed out under the pile of blankets on Gibbs' couch, the fire in the grate still warming his head and calming him. Several hours later he emerged from his cocoon, bleary – eyed, but feeling better than he had in a while, and though his throat was still fairly raw, it didn't have quite the 'swallowing glass' feel to it that it had had the day before.
Raising himself to a sitting position on the couch, he focused his eyes until they landed on the figure in the arm chair kitty corner from him, and smiled as the coffee cup made its way to his boss' lips.
"You look like dog crap, DiNozzo." Gibbs informed him without ever looking up from his newspaper crossword. "Feel any better?"
"Thanks, Boss, and yes, I feel a little better. Throat doesn't feel like Cujo had his teeth in it anymore. Just sore and – hoarse."
"Cujo?"
"Saint Bernard. Nasty Saint Bernard."
"Breakfast?"
"Pancakes. Eggs. Got any tea?"
"Just what Ducky brought last time he was here. Which reminds me, bet he's on his way here now. Time to look chipper unless you wanna be drinking that Mallard Miracle Elixir he forced down Abby's throat last time she was sick."
"Oh God, that stuff was...eww..I could smell it on her as soon as I stepped into the lab."
"Don't be a brat if he offers it to you, just tell him you're feeling better and the antibiotics are all you need."
"I wouldn't hurt his feelings for the world, Boss, you know that." Tony quietly admitted. "He's the only one who..." Tony trailed off, looking off past Gibbs into the kitchen. "Nevermind, I'll let him down gently."
Gibbs studied his guest, who in turn had started to study his own fingers.
"Gonna make breakfast. I'll start with the tea, you can take your antibiotics with a piece of toast or something. Then you can go grab a shower."
"You know – you and Ducky – you're not like anyone I've ever known..I mean – neither is Abby, but – I've been friends with girls who think they need to mother me. I've never.." Tony stumbled on his words, but Gibbs waited patiently for him to find the ones he was looking for. "Guys have – always wanted something from me - either to introduce them to – pretty girls, or win a game for them, or – go undercover and - flush out the bad guys, and girls – I got lots of talent for lots of things, Boss, some of them not so good – and it always has felt like – that's all I was worth to them, just a tool to get what they wanted – once they got it, they moved on. You moving on, Boss? Cause Ducky never makes me feel like that. He makes me feel – like I'm really important to him."
"You are, Tony." Gibbs assured him. "He's never taken to any of my agents like he has to you, partly cause you make him feel important, too. You listen to him."
"Ducky has a lot to teach if you take the time to listen to him. You just have to filter out a lot of stuff. You know me, Boss, I'm the champion filterer."
"Oh, yeah, I do know that. And I'm not planning on going anywhere, DiNozzo, if anything, you'll want to move on from me. I know about your two-year track record."
Gibbs left his words at that, leaving Tony to decipher them however he would, and Tony headed for the stairs for his shower, then stopped when he got to the bottom of them, his head down as he inspected the smooth wood hand rail.
"I – seem to always wear out my welcome, Boss, it's just – something always happens and..next thing I know I'm packing boxes and driving away."
"Go grab your shower, we can talk about it later."
"How 'bout we talk about it never?"
"You think if you don't talk about it it won't happen again?"
"Don't know what I think anymore, Boss, it's just – a real sore subject for me, especially after Baltimore."
"Yeah. Okay, up to you." Gibbs gave his shoulder a squeeze. 'Go on, I'll go make breakfast, you eat what you can."
Tony nodded without looking at his host, and headed up to take his shower. Somewhere in between finding clean clothes and getting into the shower, he heard Ducky arrive downstairs.
"Come on in, Duck, DiNozzo's gone to take a shower, he should be down shortly. Have a cup of something while you're waiting. I was just going to start breakfast, Tony said he wanted tea, I was going to make him some of the tea you left here."
"Oh, that would be lovely, I've been doing battle with mother's primary care physician over one of her medications, we finally got it sorted out, and then the pharmacy was backlogged, I had to wait nearly an hour."
He handed his overcoat to Gibbs who merely draped it carefully over the back of a chair, and they headed for the kitchen.
"So how is Anthony this morning, he must be feeling better if he wanted breakfast."
"Well, I don't know how much he's actually going to eat, I told him I make it and he could eat what he wanted. He got some decent sleep and said his throat didn't feel like some Saint Bernard had – nevermind, he said it's just sore now, not real raw like it has been."
"Oh, that's excellent, it means the antibiotics are doing their job, he will be back on the job before we know it."
"Have a seat, I'll put the water on. Same cup you usually use?"
"Yes, please." Ducky replied, settling himself into a chair at the little kitchen table, and waited for Gibbs to get breakfast started and his tea made before saying any more. The M.E watched fascinated, as his friend prepared his tea, following the prescribed steps that Ducky had insisted on if he were to drink tea at the Gibbs residence. There would be absolutely no mircrowave tea for him; if Gibbs were too busy to make it properly for him, he would simply make his own or have nothing at all. This morning, his friend seemed the perfect host, even after what Ducky could only assume had been a fitful night.
Gibbs set the cup and saucer and a small teapot filled with piping hot Earl Grey tea in front of Ducky, along with milk and sugar, and then sat down in the chair across from him.
" Don't have any cream, just milk. So, what do you want to talk about?"
The older man smiled, not surprised that Gibbs had read his face and body language.
"Well, as long as you are the one who inquired, I must ask you how your evening went with Anthony, and if you were both able to find some decent sleep."
"We got off to a rocky start, but -"
"Really? How so?"
"Well, he was miserable, Duck, and you know how kids are when they – how he is when he's sick, he wants attention but he wants you to leave him the hell alone. It's a constant battle knowing how much is enough and how much is too much. By the time it's too much, we're both pissed at each other."
"I see." Ducky answered quietly, taking a sip of the hot liquid. "So when did it get to be too much?"
"When he made a joke about parachuting. Guess I over-reacted a little, still remember how I felt when he got pitched out of that plane and I expected to have to scrape him off the cold hard ground. He got upset cause I got snarky about it. Wanted Abby to come get him, then couldn't get a hold of her. I apologized, he told me he was scared of having to go back to Bethesda, I told him I knew that he was, but I didn't think he'd have to. We had some dinner, later on when he couldn't sleep I gave him a glass of Macallen 18."
"Jethro..." Duck harrumphed an admonishment.
"Not gonna apologize, Duck, got him to sleep, he stayed sleeping long enough to feel better when he got up a while ago. He needed sleep more than anything, part of why he got sick. I've been pushing him, this is the result."
Ducky could hear at least a modicum of guilt in Gibbs' statement, and was hard put to deny it, but he knew this wasn't all the team leader's fault.
"Well, perhaps it is in a round about way, but you had no choice in the matter, those cases needed immediate and constant attention, and there is no way Anthony would have let you sideline him while they were being investigated. It is a hazard of the job, just as getting injured or shot by a suspect. He will recover just fine, and perhaps you will get some time in between cases where he doesn't have to be worn to a raveling and he can build his stamina up a bit more from the original illness. It's not been that long, Jethro, he really hasn't had time to build up to full strength from it. Perhaps I can find a vitamin regimen that will help raise his immunity levels. I can do nothing, however, about lowering your case load."
He took a longer drink of the now cooled tea, and Gibbs left the table to start preparing some breakfast.
"I made things harder for him than I needed to on this, and never told him why, couldn't tell him why."
"And that was...?"
"He kept doing things – not on purpose, he didn't even know, Christ, how could he? He kept reminding me of Kelly, and I kept blaming him for it. Then when I knew he was really sick I got - "
"Frightened?"
"Terrified, Duck. The first time, I couldn't stop it, didn't know it was even happening 'til it was too late. This time, felt like I caused it, felt like – I wasn't keeping track of him close enough. He never said a word to me, Duck, but he had to have bee getting sick for a while for it to have gotten to this level. I just wish he would let me know when things aren't right with him."
"Yes, of course, Jethro, just as you are so forthcoming with what you perceive as your weaknesses. There is a reason some people refer to him as Jethro Junior."
"Who calls him that?" Gibbs turned round, an amused look on his face.
"Oh, no one in particular. Tobias Fornell. Director Morrow. The notorious Mike Franks."
Gibbs chuckled to himself, going back to stirring the pancake batter.
"Don't think he'd appreciate the reference, Duck, better keep that to yourself."
"Oh, I do believe he has already heard it, and odd as it may sound to you, he seems quite proud of the moniker."
"Hmmm." was Gibbs' only response, leaving the M.E to merely wonder what the man was actually thinking, but he didn't have to wait long for the actual answer. "Not what I signed up for when I brought him back from Baltimore."
"Well, I dare say, Jethro, as fascinated with you as he was when he followed you home, I'm quite certain he had no intention of becoming Jethro Junior, or anyone else's Junior, for that matter, I'm sure he had more than his fill of trying to live up to his real father's impossible expectations."
"You think I expect too much of him, Duck?"
"I think.." Ducky hesitated, trying to choose his words carefully. "I think that there are times when his eagerness to please you over-rides his sense of self-protection. I'm not insinuating he became ill because of it, I believe it would have happened regardless – just that perhaps you could – let him know in small ways that his hard work is being noticed and appreciated, so he won't be continuously trying to out-do himself, and Caitlin. He may see her as an older sister, but only means they're open to sibling rivalry."
"Like I said, Duck, not what I signed up for, just wanted a good team to work with for a change."
"And that you do have, along with a young man who is in dire need of a mentor at the very least, and someone who has his best interests at heart; not a terrible burden, really, especially when he has so very much to give back in return for it."
"I'll keep that in mind, Duck; it's not that I begrudge him that, he just tends to open old wounds without even knowing it, and I lose my perspective."
"Well, if I find you backsliding, I'll – ahh, here you are, Anthony!" Ducky declared as Tony made his way into the kitchen. "Yes, Jethro is right, you do look better, perhaps I should prescribe Macallen 18 to you more often!" He winked at Tony, who let out a barely audible groan. "Not to worry, my boy, Jethro confessed that it was entirely his idea. Here, sit down, let me take your temperature and have a look at your throat. I brought my bag, sit tight while I retrieve it, it's right on the foyer table."
Moments later the M.E was back with his leather doctor's satchel, and shining a small light into Tony's mouth, who struggled not to squirm and squeak from the discomfort.
"There there, almost done, I know that it's painful." Ducky reassured, as if he were talking to a small child. "Quite right, not as inflamed as last time I look, the antibiotics seem to have taken hold and are doing their job splendidly. Be sure to continue with them, you are not allowed to stop them merely because you are feeling better." He looked over to Gibbs to make sure the man understood him even if Tony didn't, and Gibbs nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Your fever also seems to be down, no doubt from the sleep and ibuprofen. I would, however, recommend more of the same, preferably without the aid of single malt. Let's leave that for celebrations and emergencies, please."
"Sure, Ducky." Tony rasped, still not quite over the M.E's probing of his sore throat. "There is something to be said for its medicinal qualities, though, I don't remember my father ever having a cold or the flu."
Ducky smiled sadly at him and patted his arm.
"Well, perhaps that is why Jethro never takes ill, but his liver may have something else to say about it."
He put away the thermometer and took out his stethoscope, ordering Tony to breathe in and out at intervals while a nervous Gibbs pretended not to hover in the background. "Hmmm. Yes. They could sound better, but none of that wheezing I heard from you the other day. Again the antibiotics at work, wonderful things that they are." He put the listening device away and closed up the bag. "Which brings me back to what I was saying before. Have you taken your morning one yet?"
"He was just about to take it with breakfast, I told him to take a shower first." Gibbs chimed in, before the man could cause a fuss over Tony's pill-taking record.
"Very well, then, I'll leave it to you to assure that he does." he stated, picking up his doctor's bag. "I'll stop by later this evening if you would like, but honestly, he seems to be progressing just fine."
"Don't stop by unless you're coming to dinner, Duck, which you know you're welcome to. Otherwise, we'll be fine."
"Well, I may take you up on it, but I do have a rather busy day ahead, so I may just go home and relax in front of the fireplace when it's over. Don't be afraid to phone if you should need me, and see that he eats something other than soggy toast or he will certainly have a relapse." Ducky lectured, then grabbed his hat and coat and headed for the door.
"Thanks, Ducky. 'ppreciate it."
"You are more than welcome, Anthony, and you should rest your throat, just because it feels better does not mean you are not still doing it damage by speaking. Drink lots of liquids and open it only to eat and drink. Juice or tea, only. Oh, I almost forgot, I brought a bottle of Mallard Miracle Elixir, I'll leave it on the table here, you can take some after breakfast after you take your antibiotic."
"Oh. Sure, okay. If it's good for Abby, then it must be good for me, right?"
"Right, Anthony." Ducky beamed, pleased that the young man remembered the miracle cure and that he was willing to take it. "Alright then, you two behave yourselves, Anthony, you stay out of the basement and away from the sawdust and fumes, that includes Jethro's paint thinner disguised as bourbon."
"Got it, Ducky. Bye!"
Gibbs ushered the older man out, and Tony collapsed onto the couch, exhausted from the work of taking a shower and then enduring the M.E's intense scrutiny and instructions.
"Stay there, I'll let you know when breakfast is ready. I'll bring you some tea while you're waiting."
"Can I have hot cocoa instead, Boss? Ducky didn't say I couldn't have that."
Gibbs paused in his step, and turned to his sickly house guest, who was lying on his stomach, arms wrapped around a bed pillow. With a jolt, his mind went back in time to another youngster who used to do the same thing when she was sick, and would only drink hot cocoa with marshmallows when she had a cold.
"Yeah, sure, I've got some that Abby brought last night. Think I may even have some marshmallows somewhere."