My Kingdom - chapter 8
by rose_malmaison
Rating: FRAO
Genre: Slash, DiNozzo/Gibbs
Warnings: M/M, slash, sexual situations, language

A/N: Comments and feedback are appreciated. Thanks to everyone who has left comments and asked for notifications of new chapters!

*** Chapter 8 ***

"Tony, don't. Just don't. Please…" Jethro rose from the bed and reached out for Tony's arm, but the younger man jerked away, his eyes flashing with anger.

"Don't what? Don't remind you of the good times we had? What we meant to each other?" Tony said sarcastically, "Oh yeah, I meant to say what you mean to me because it's pretty obvious this little thing we had going was one-sided."

'Tony–."

"Oh, now you remember my name!" Gibbs stood there scowling, his features rigid with anger, but Tony wasn't yet done reaming out the man he was already thinking of as being his former lover. "What d'you want from me, Gibbs? You want me to leave you alone so you can sneak off on your hiatus or whatever it is, without telling me where you're going? You want to avoid all those pesky questions like why are you pretending you don't remember your past?" Tony moved in until he stood close to Gibbs, taking advantage of his height and demanding, "Is it just me you don't want to remember? Is that what this is about? Don't ask, don't tell? Is this because I want to tell the people I work with, the people we care about, that you and I are seeing each other and that maybe, just maybe, we have something going on between us that's good and is going to last a while? Maybe I should rephrase that: it was good, past tense. Are you ashamed of us…of me? I thought we had something lasting…Or maybe we never were more than fuck-buddies and I've been deluding myself."

Gibbs' eyes were dark with anger when he retorted, "You're looking for a take-down, DiNozzo."

Tony stepped closer, and said, "I'm looking for answers."

They were standing so close that there was little space between their bodies. Gibbs placed his hands on Tony's chest and ordered, "You don't understand. Sit down. Sit."

That time he left off the 'please' and sounded more like his old self, but Tony was fuming and hurt, and he didn't like the way the feeling of Gibbs' hands cut through his defenses and made him want to lean in and kiss the bastard. Plus Tony sure as hell wasn't ready to listen to any justifications Gibbs planned to throw his way. "I don't understand? I understand how it's hard for you to accept everything that comes with admitting that we're lovers. Hell, you can't even say the words aloud when you're with me so how can I expect you to tell Ducky or Abby that we're in a relationship. It's not easy for me, either, but at least I'm willing to give it a try and I'm not hiding under a rock like what we're doing is some shameful secret. I get it, honest, but what I cannot understand is how you can walk out on your career, on your team, because some asshole wearing a few stars on his shoulders made a terrible choice and allowed some of our men to die needlessly, because that's what you're doing. You're not going on a nice little vacation in the sun. You're running out on us without even looking backwards!"

Gibbs didn't reply, just stood there with his shoulders bunched up, all tense and pale, with a stricken look in his eyes that Tony felt guilty for putting there. Tony pushed aside an almost overwhelming need to wrap Gibbs up in a big hug and tell him, no, beg him, to stay and to forget everything he'd been saying. They could talk, work it out, do whatever it took to make things right again. Instead, Tony hardened his heart when it became clear that Gibbs wasn't about to explain. Gibbs never did. "You know what? There's no point in me asking you to reconsider, of me begging you not to go. Ducky got it right when he said, 'Once Gibbs makes up his mind, his mind is made up.' There's no give in you, Gibbs, and I need you to give a little."

There was a muscle twitching in Gibbs' jaw and his eyes were bright with conflicting emotions but he never opened his mouth. Tony knew there was nothing to gain by continuing his barrage of questions and accusations. He didn't trust what he might say or do next, and he'd pretty much said it all by now anyway, so with a dismissive motion of his hand Tony turned away to head for the door.

"Tony–." Tony felt his arm grabbed and he was pulled back roughly, and instinctively he swung around with his free arm raised, hand bunched into a fist. Gibbs swiftly raised his arm in defense and blocked Tony's punch. If anyone would ever suggest to Tony that he'd throw a punch at Jethro within his lifetime, he'd have told them they were crazy. But something in him snapped; maybe it was exhaustion or a surge of adrenaline, or frustration capped by fear that he'd lost his one chance at settling down with the person he loved more than anyone else in the world – or all of them combined together into one big volatile cocktail – but Tony did the unthinkable and purposely hit Jethro, striking him hard enough in the chest to force a grunt out of him.

Gibbs recovered quickly; he could have retaliated with his fists but instead Gibbs followed through by twisting Tony's right arm up behind his back, hooking a foot under his leg and forcing him face down on the bed, all in the space of three seconds.

Tony, red-faced with anger and embarrassment, struggled and swore between clenched teeth. With his free arm he jabbed his elbow hard into Gibbs' belly, then reared back and almost got free, but the ex-Marine was like a bulldog. He kept up the pressure on Tony's arm and pinned him to the mattress. "Stop it, Tony!" Gibbs ordered, his voice shaking. "Enough!"

Even though it felt like his shoulder was on fire, Tony's response was to attempt to break free. All he got for his trouble was one angry Marine leaning into him. For a recently wounded man, Gibbs sure knew how to put the pressure on and Tony gritted his teeth to prevent himself from crying out.

Gibbs' breath was harsh in his ear. "I can't talk to you like this. You had enough?"

Refusing to give in, Tony shook his head and a groan escaped, muffled by the bedding under his face. Gibbs pinched his hand and an excruciating pain traveled up Tony's arm, and he knew he'd had enough. Out of desperation Tony was forced to use his safe word. It came out in a whimper. "Semper fi."

Gibbs released him immediately and moved to the side, breathing heavily.

Tony groaned and lay on his stomach, panting, unable to move for a couple of minutes. His shoulder was aching and he was numb all the way from his right hand up to his elbow. Shit, what had he been thinking? He'd experienced Gibbs' version of the Vulcan death grip before, when they'd sparred in the gym at work, and Tony knew that the older man didn't hold back with anyone. The only consolation was that Gibbs knew what he was doing and how much pressure he could exert without damaging his opponent. Even so, right now Tony felt as though he'd been through the wringer and pitied Gibbs' enemies if they ever got into hand combat with him.

Tony's anger dissipated almost as fast as it had risen, though his breathing was as labored as if he'd run a couple of miles. Eventually he managed to turn onto his back and found Gibbs lying by his side on the big bed, their arms and legs almost touching. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Gibbs' arms were wrapped around his stomach, his face still flushed from the struggle. Tony rubbed the sore spot on his hand where Gibbs had gripped it even though the pain had already faded. "You were going to break my arm, Gibbs," he complained.

Gibbs gave him a sideways glance that clearly conveyed that Tony should stop complaining. He grunted and allowed, "Then we're even. You landed a good one in my belly."

Right away Tony propped himself up on one elbow and looked at Jethro with concern. He reached out, slid Jethro's the shirt up and rubbed his palm in circles on his belly. "Did I hurt you, Boss? Didn't mean to. Well, maybe I did, but you weren't exactly holding back, either. Uh…want to try it again? Maybe this time we can get wrestle face to face and get some action on."

Gibbs slowly shook his head. "What am I going to do with you, DiNozzo?"

"I don't know," Tony replied and flopped onto his back to stare at the ceiling in the darkened bedroom. He didn't want to mess this up but he hadn't done very well so far. "I just don't understand," he said, almost to himself. They lay side by side for a while, until Tony knew he either had to get up and go back to his lonely apartment or get the show on the road, Unsure of what reaction he'd get, Tony sought out Jethro's hand, and when he wasn't rebuffed he intertwined their fingers. His tentative squeeze received a warm response from the callused fingers.

Tony turned his head so he could look at Jethro, and said slowly, "It's just that I don't want you to go. I guess I lost my cool." Jethro turned and met Tony's eyes. The appeal in their deep blue depths told Tony that the man was sorry, but Tony wasn't sure what he was feeling sorry for. Was he sorry about pretending he had no memory of them as a couple, sorry for planning on running away, or for something else altogether? Gibbs had a lot of explaining to do and Tony had a feeling it wasn't going to be forthcoming.

There was also a hint of a plea in Jethro's eyes when he asked, "What do you want me to say?"

Tony responded with an entreaty of his own. "You can start by saying you'll stay. We can work through it. I know you – you don't walk out on things. You're not a quitter, Jethro."

Immediately Gibbs shook his head. "I can't. I need to get away." He sat up with a grunt and rubbed his stomach.

Tony raised himself on both elbows, then sighed and sat up beside Jethro. "You mean you need to get away from me."

"Did I say that? No, not from you. From…everything. Look, Tony, I don't know how to explain this," Gibbs said irritably.

Annoyed again, Tony said, "Try."

Tony didn't move, just waited patiently, and after a moment Gibbs' shoulders slumped and he said in a quiet voice, "I don't understand it myself." There was a long pause then he said, "I woke up in that damned hospital and everyone kept telling me what year it was, telling me about everything I'd missed, telling me who I am…or who I'm supposed to be. I looked in the mirror and saw an old man, which wasn't easy to get used to, believe me. I didn't recognize myself. They told me I was a special agent, responsible for the lives of people I didn't even know. I'm not that man they keep telling me I am. It all feels…false. I don't know Agent Gibbs." He ran a hand over his face. "I know Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs. I know Gunny. I know him." Jethro turned a little and sent a look of appeal to Tony. "When Mike Franks turned up at the hospital and called me Probie, I knew exactly who I was, and I knew I'd been wounded, and that I'd just been shipped stateside. Hell, right now I can even feel the shrapnel wound in my leg, like it happened yesterday."

Tony shifted uncomfortably. He couldn't compete with Franks, and all those memories they shared. Gibbs seemed to want to be part of that past, which was unsettling. Trying to remain calm, Tony said, "But you pretended you couldn't remember bout us. That means you did remember us."

Gibbs gave a deep sigh. "Only some of it. At first, in the hospital, I didn't know who you were. I didn't know anyone and those I did, like the doctor, I knew him in a different time." He shrugged. "I had a feeling about you, one I couldn't shake, but I didn't know what it was all about."

Tony was a little upset that Jethro hadn't acted upon his gut feeling that they meant something to each other. "Yeah, I could tell you didn't know me when you first woke up. But that's not the problem – it came back to you and you denied it."

"By the time you walked in here this evening…I had a pretty good idea. Those photos…I'd been looking at the album before you came in…at pictures of Shannon." Gibbs looked straight at Tony and admitted, "I saw the photos of the team, of us camping. I saw your photo and then you walked in and…I think I'd already figured it out."

"You never lied to me before. Not ever," Tony said, unable to keep the disappointment and hurt out of his voice. "So why'd you think you needed to lie to me about remembering our relationship?"

Gibbs studied his hands, clenched in his lap. "I do remember most everything now. At least I think I do. But inside me, inside it's like I'm in a different time. It's '91 and I'm right and everyone else is wrong." He let out a frustrated breath. "I can't explain it. To me, Shannon and Kelly just…" His voice cracked when he continued. "They've just died, Tony. It's fresh for me and I don't care what anyone tells me, that's my truth." He touched his chest above his heart. "That's where my heart is right now and I'm sorry, so sorry, but I don't have any room in here for anyone else except them. I don't have anything to give you, Tony. I'm with them now." In a voice that was almost a whisper Gibbs pled, "Can you understand that?"

"I…I think so." Tony knew right then and there that even if he didn't want Jethro to be stuck in the past, he still had to help him deal with it. He just wasn't sure how or even if he could help bring Jethro back to the present. And it looked like his lover wanted to remain with his family for now, to grieve for them once again. Who was he to intrude on that, anyway? The bottom line was that it was Jethro who mattered, not himself. Just the same, Tony wanted Jethro to acknowledge their relationship, to give him some hope for the future. Tony knew he was being needy and, okay, selfish as well, but he and Jethro were alive and they were here now. The whole situation scared him because if Jethro wasn't able to work this out, if he spent who knows how long repeating the grieving process he'd already gone through once before, there was no chance for them.

Tony leaned a little into the older man's shoulder. "All right. I think I understand, Jethro. A man has to deal with things his own way, and you've got a lot to deal with, a lot to work out. I want you to let me help you but I get the feeling you're not ready for that yet. I hope that when you've figured it all out…or got a handle on it…" He reached over and laid a hand on Jethro's chest, over his heart. "I hope you can still find some room in here for me."

Jethro froze at the intimate touch but Tony didn't retract his hand. He waited, feeling the man's heart pounding beneath his fingertips like he was running a long-distance race.

Although it was unlikely that Jethro would take any advice from him, Tony added, "Please don't do anything rash. When you act impulsively you make poor decisions, Jethro. Think about those last three marriages." Jethro gave him a sideways look and Tony instinctively prepared himself for a reprimand, but it never came. All of his marriages had started with spur-of-the-moment proposals according to Gibbs. "Though I guess now you can claim amnesia if you ever run into any of the former Mrs. Gibbses," he said with a smile.

And as for leaving NCIS, abandoning his team, handing in his resignation or retirement papers or whatever the hell he'd submitted to the director earlier that day? Tony was convinced that was an emotionally driven decision that his boss would regret, given time to think about his actions and their consequences. Well, the sooner Jethro realized he'd made a mistake the sooner he'd come back to them.

Just as Tony was about to withdraw his hand from where it rested on Jethro's chest, the older man reached up and covered Tony's hand with his own. "It matters a lot to me that I can count on you, Tony." He turned his head slightly and their eyes met. "I can count on you being here." It was almost a question the way he said it, and Tony caught the nuance.

He knew that Jethro needed stability when his world had literally been blown apart, and if Tony could be the anchor, then he'd be proud to take on that responsibility. He also accepted that Jethro was leaving the next morning for an unknown destination; he could see it in his eyes. Although naturally curious, a part of Tony didn't really want to know where Jethro was going. Maybe he was still hoping that at the last minute Jethro would change his mind and stay. The most important thing was to offer him whatever support he needed.

"You need to deal with your ghosts, Jethro. You need to put them to rest so you can come back here." To come back to me, he thought. It was suddenly hard to speak. "No matter where you go, or what you decide, I want you to know without a doubt that I'm always gonna be here for you." He looked Jethro straight in the eyes when he said, "Never doubt that."

"I know." Gibbs nodded then released Tony's hand and stood, his movements a bit stiff. "Gotta hit the head." He went into the bathroom and closed the door. When he came out a few minutes later he had his shaving kit and a bottle of sunscreen in hand. He dropped them into the open bag on the bed then stood there wearily. Eventually Gibbs looked at Tony, who hadn't moved from where he'd been sitting on the bed. "I never doubt you, Tony. Never."

Tony dipped his head, trying valiantly not to allow his emotions to overwhelm him. He nodded, took a deep breath and stood with a smile. "You must be ready to drop into bed. I'll say good-bye then and…" He said in a low tone, his voice shaky, "You take care, Jethro. Make sure you use plenty of that sunscreen." He couldn't look at Jethro when he whispered, "Bye," and ran from the room.

*** end chapter 8 ***