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Chapter 15:

It sounded like a joke.

"I owe you, I guess."

But Gibbs did not feel like laughing at all.

Not when a friend had, out of a twisted sense of obligation, just submitted himself to having sex with him. Even though Tony wasn't into men, he would have endured this, thinking he demanded it as repayment.

Gibbs was lost for words.

Tony had shown the tendency to be overeager in following him, but even in the field it had never been following blindly. Tony had chosen him to be his mentor, but that had not stopped him from standing up to him, when he thought Gibbs was crossing the line, getting too involved, or was set on the wrong lead.

Apparently, concerning personal relations, Tony wasn't as self-secure.

That could be a problem.

Gibbs needed Tony and he couldn't lose him over this kind of nonsense. He needed Tony to accept that he, Gibbs, cared.

He suddenly wished he would have read that paper Ducky had been talking about earlier.

Last week, Tom Morrow had playfully referred to Tony as Gibbs' bloodhound. Sadly enough Gibbs at times, thought Tony rather reminded him of a kicked puppy. Of all the damn things.

He didn't want that, he wanted, no, needed Tony to be Tony. The team needed him as well.

He had to steer the boat out of the shallow waters now, before they hit the cliffs and the boat shattered on the waves of emotion both men weren't used to.

Upon realizing Tony's motivation to hit on him, hot fury took hold of him, not directed against Tony, but against the impossible situation and against who ever had scarred the young man so deeply.

His sudden outburst of anger against the wall had caused Tony to violently flinch away; reminding Gibbs that only two hours before he had expected a beating out of his hands.

He cursed himself for losing his control like that. He had to be careful, or he might be sending the young man running, maybe even from his job at NCIS.

He couldn't have that.

He dropped his hands and his head.

An awkward silence had risen between them. Tony was still crouched down on the couch, staring intently at his hands.

Okay, keep it simple and clear. Surely, Tony's try at handling the situation with humor had been quite pathetic, but it may be the only way he understood.

Gibbs twitched his lips with the half-smile he usually acknowledged, when one of Tony's pranks or jokes was just too hilarious to be ignored.

In a playful mock-tone he said. "DiNozzo, I'd rather not do you, you think you'll get along without my magic touch?"

Tony's head shot up. He searched his boss for malice, but just found him teasing lightheartedly.

He was joking, offering him an easy way out of this horrible situation. Tony was more than thankful for the opportunity.

His face lit up in a huge smile: "I'll survive, I guess. Wouldn't want you to spend all you love-energy on me anyway, you can't risk the mysterious red head getting cross with you."

Gibbs had to laugh at that, he had to give Tony credit for his guts to tease him with his "mysterious" date, which Tony had been trying to find out about for a while now, ever since she first had picked him up from the Navy Yard.

He dropped back on the couch next to Tony again. In a swift motion he head-slapped the other, demonstrating that things wouldn't change after all of this.

Tony rubbed the back of his head, still looking at him with a lopsided, slightly disbelieving smile. He was obviously surprised that they had gotten through this embarrassing situation and that he lived to never ever mention it again to anyone.

Gibbs had let it slide and he wasn't stupid enough to question his luck on this one.

"DiNozzo, you set out to make me miss the end of the movie? Because I actually want to know how it ends, and I'd rather not be forced to find out how to rewind that DVD."

"You want to rewind the DVD?"

"DiNozzo!"

"Shutting up now, boss."

They settled back to watching Tommy Lee Jones hunting down Harrison Ford on the screen. The atmosphere had relaxed again.

Gibbs was satisfied with the response he got to the head-slap; the younger man seemed to accept it as a sign of affection. Kicked puppy, indeed. Again his gut cringed with the question 'what had caused such damage?' Tony was a good man, and Gibbs was determined to help, he might not be able to undo or fix, but he could help rebuilding. He was completely sure, it was worth the effort.

He would have preferred to know exactly what he was dealing with, though. Not knowing, kept him from actually understanding Tony. He was left feeling helpless more often now than he cared for.

He was a skilled interrogator after all; he was able to get any information from anyone. He could start to prod a little. But should he do so? No, building trust was the way to handle this.

It would take longer, but being a marine-sniper had taught him the value of patience. It was the hours of preparation, hiding and waiting, even the sheer endless moment you held your breath before firing the bullet that made it a good shot, not the short actual act of pulling the trigger. He was in this for the long-haul.

When the movie was finished, Gibbs helped Tony to set up the bed in the guest room, he gave him a fresh towel and some clothes he could wear at night and showed him to the second bathroom.

Then he got ready for bed himself. Before turning in, he once again went to look for his guest. Tony had showered and changed into Gibbs spare sweat pants and an old NIS T-shirt. He was sitting on the side of the bed.

"You all set, DiNozzo?"

Tony answered him with a smile. "I'm fine, boss. Thanks!"

The last few days had taught him one or two lessons about his agent and hearing him say 'I'm fine' was causing him to be suspicious rather than to reassure him.

He took in the appearance of his friend. He seemed somewhat tense again. He sighed inwardly.

"Good night, boss!"

Gibbs could have voiced another reassuring word, could have told him again that he cared, but Tony did not give him the chance for an approach on the matter.

"Good night, DiNozzo."

Two hours later Gibbs woke. It wasn't a noise that had startled him, not even a feeling of unease his gut was telling him about. He just felt the urge to stand up and have a look at the well-being of his guest.

Padding barefoot down the dark hall, feeling the wooden floor beneath his feet, suddenly reminded him of the countless nights he had got up to check on Kelly. The thought made his heart ache.

Silently, trying hard not to make a noise, he pushed open the door of the guest room. He peered into the dark room, trying to make out the still figure of his agent in the bed.

He nearly jumped out of his skin, when he suddenly found himself looking directly in the wide open eyes of said Field Agent. "What the hell?" he hissed exasperated.

Blindly he felt around for the light switch.

When the light lit up the room, he found DiNozzo sitting in front of him on the corner of the bed, staring up at him.

Still sitting in the same position he had left him a couple of hours before.

"Boss!" he said with a raspy voice.

"What the hell?"