I rather wanted to do a parallel with this scene in canon, so here it is. I hope I pulled it off. In other news, interest has been expressed in expanding upon the men's...activities...of the previous chapter. If more people are interested, let me know and I'll see what I can do. And, bad me, at this point I don't have the next (and last) chapter done. I go back to school this week, but I promise you will get the last chapter.

In the time Tony spent sitting in his car, head on the steering wheel, he could already have gone to the downstairs neighbor's apartment, picked up Fiona, and fed her. He himself could already have had a three course meal. It was too hard to open the door; how could he hold his daughter, who would gurgle and laugh, having just watched a friend die? Granted he hadn't been as close to Paula Cassidy as he'd been to Kate, but at least Kate had been facing the other way when she was shot. Thank heaven for small favors. He had locked eyes with Paula as the wall slid shut and then only dropped his eyes from the space of wall when the building shook. He knew she wouldn't have thought twice about saving the team. He knew she would have felt relieved of the guilt for her two agents' deaths. But her eyes as she knew she was going to die—pleading, scared, resigned. Tony wouldn't be able to wash that look off as he had done with Kate's blood. He could still burn the clothes he had worn, even though they didn't have blood on them this time, but that wouldn't burn out the image. It was supposed to be a simple all-hands-on-deck job, this peace conference.

Tony barely thought as he rammed his car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot. He called Mrs. Raeburn and asked her to watch Fiona a little longer. It would have been so much more convenient if this was the week Angie was taking off of work to visit from Illinois. He paid no attention to the matronly woman's assurances that she was a lovely child and could stay as long as necessary. It wasn't even until the car was turned off that he noticed he was at Jethro's house. He got out of the car, a little unsteady on his legs, and shook his head against the ringing in his ears from the blast. And despite the fact that the door was always unlocked, despite the fact that he had a key, despite the fact that Tony always just walked inside, he rang the doorbell. Gibbs opened the door after a bit. Tony could already smell the Johnny Walker on his breath. If Tony had been expecting anything, he would have expected confusion at his staying on the doorstep. But there was no confusion in Gibbs' eyes. A small flicker of sadness in the depths, but the crystal blue gaze was as steady as a windless sea.

Tony could have stepped inside, but he didn't. Standing on Gibbs' porch, he matched the gaze and tried to turn words out of his mouth. He had to work to find them, but the little voice in the back of his mind told him time was running out every day.

"I love you, Jethro."

He found the words. He said nothing else, but stood silent as he watched a breath of air disturb the sea and tenderness wash over a lined face. Gibbs drew Tony inside and wrapped his arms around him, holding tight. Tony kicked the door shut behind him and buried his face into his lover's neck, smelling alcohol and sawdust and everything that made him feel safe. He shut his eyes, drinking in the scent and letting tension flow out as he felt the hand sliding through his hair and down his neck.

"I know." The barest hint of a whisper wafted past his ear and Tony held on tighter. After that, neither moved for a long time. Once Gibbs felt Tony's grip loosen, he dropped his own arms and pulled Tony after him into the basement. Tony almost laughed at the sheer absurdity of recovering here, but he knew when Gibbs' arms were around him and their four hands were guiding a sander over the wood that this was where he needed to be.

Once dusk began to fall, the two men got into Tony's car and drove back to the apartments. Not a word had been spoken after those first two sentences, but Gibbs knew Tony did not want to be alone this night. He waited inside the apartment as Tony collected a sleepy Fiona from Mrs. Raeburn's and had a bottle of milk warmed by the time they got in.

Once Fiona was asleep in her crib and the two men were below the covers in the bedroom, Gibbs drew a finger down Tony's cheek.

"Why 'I know'? Going for the Han Solo statement?"

"One night when she had just been born, you got up, half-asleep, to put her back to bed." Tony always found the deep voice so reassuring. "When you lay back down, you told me you loved me."

"And that's why you said 'too'…" Tony wondered.

"Yeah. I knew you weren't ready to say it so I gave you time. I would have waited even longer…"

"Yeah." Tony saw her eyes again. "You know it wasn't a relationship of pursuing. She was attractive, yes, but I didn't want to get her into bed. There was just some sort of… understanding between us. I never really knew why before and I still don't."

They lay in silence for a time, with Tony's arm thrown across Gibbs' waist. Tony was just starting to drift off when his partner murmured, "You know, when it's time for Fi to have a new room, why don't you make it in my house? Give up the lease on this and make it 'our house'."

"Yes. When the time comes, yes." Tony pressed a promising kiss to Jethro's lips and the ghosts of the day fled as the men slowly began making love into the night.