12

After sitting silently in the shadows for far too long – as proven by the rapidly stiffening muscles in his legs - Tony was becoming very aware of the chill in the air. It was cold enough to cut straight through his sweat saturated shirt and hair, leaving him shivering intermittently. That was the downside to abruptly racing out of your own apartment. No jacket.

Fuck. No keys, either. Hadn't even thought.

He sat for a moment, looking that revelation up and down. Whatever else he was failing at, he could at least manage to use his head, even when he didn't really want to face the results. The lack of keys wasn't an issue. Why? Because Gibbs was no fool, and would have noticed. Getting back in would be no problem.

No, the problem was what he would find there. It was a toss up. Most likely, Gibbs would have left straight after his own departure, and he would get back to find the door unlocked, and the apartment empty.

He hoped he'd find it empty. He had no weapon on him either (as if he hadn't already screwed up enough for one lifetime), and the thought of walking in, unarmed, to an unsecured area sent a thread of cold through the pit of his stomach that left the attempts of the night air standing.

He knew it was irrational. He was well aware that he had walked into far more dangerous situations, far more often. He was fully confident he could do so again, any time he liked.

Providing he was armed, and prepared, and had backup.

But this was his home. It should be safe. A person should be able to walk into these places without anything untoward happening.

Should.

That was, until you got blindsided by someone you'd dismissed as irrelevant, and even though you'd had a drink in a bar a thousand times, the thousand and first left you drowning in trouble.

It would be safe. He knew, logically, that there was no threatening stranger haunting his apartment, waiting for him to come back. No waitress, carrying a drink that was more than it pretended to be. He knew it. Absolutely. One hundred percent.

But apparently all the certainty in the world couldn't stop his body tensing up, and his breathing quickening, and the nerves in his spine running amok again at the thought of going back into the apartment when it had been left open and empty.

This was ridiculous. He was actually scared of nothing.

Fine. Whatever. Dwelling on it wasn't going to help, regardless.

He firmly shut down that avenue of thought, mentally added it to the prohibited list, and moved on to the alternative. And if his body didn't quite get the message, then he wasn't listening to it.

Which was easy, because the alternative was worse. Much worse. Behind door two, the apartment would definitely not be empty. No, it would be occupied by his boss - still there, forced to wait for him until he chose to show, and getting more annoyed by the minute.

He couldn't face him again tonight. He couldn't. The thought alone made him feel ill. Even if Gibbs just looked at him, like he did, and then left, he'd be hard pressed to keep up appearances. And that was the best option.

What a mess. What an utter, goddamn, stupid mess. Either way he was going to have to go back sooner or later. The longer he left it, the worse the situation would get.

He didn't move though, because the yard was quiet, and still and almost as good as the church itself. And at this stage, worse was definitely a relative word, and one that didn't seem to have much meaning in the face of how things were already.

He shivered again, and stared at the grass, and figured he'd better set about psyching himself up to move. He couldn't sit here forever, no matter how calm and peaceful it was. That would be insane.

Of course, sitting freezing his ass off alone in a churchyard in the middle of the night was probably not the best recommendation for his current mental state, either.

Doing something could wait though. First things first – he was in no state right now to even think about moving. Instead, he leant a bit further forwards, and concentrated on nothing but long shallow breaths, waiting for the nausea to pass once more.

It took a little time, but eventually he felt better, although the shivering was getting more frequent. Still, it was a small price to pay for being able to avoid having to explain any of this to Gibbs.

"Here."

He jumped a mile, heart hammering, even as he recognised the voice, and was furious with himself for not having better control. Not that it would make much difference. The man was supernatural. It wasn't fair.

He couldn't bring himself to look up, knowing if he made eye contact all his determination and reason would fly straight out of the window and he'd be on the ropes in seconds. He kept his eyes firmly on the grass, directing his question to his toes.

"What are you doing here?"

"Finding you." A brief pause. "Here."

More demanding the second time, in that tone that made it clear that this was your last chance to see reason, and anything after it was your own damn fault. He raised his head just far enough to see the edge of the jacket that was dangling in front of him. After a moment of indecision, he stretched out his hand and took it, as grateful for something to do as for the chance to warm up. He shrugged it on, hearing the jangle of keys as he did so, and resenting that the sound made something in his throat uncurl, just a little.

"Locked up before I came looking for you."

He raised his eyes a bit further, just enough to see if there was any movement. There wasn't, and he breathed easier, his fight or flight instinct beginning to settle again.

"How d'you find me?"

"You told Kate you'd been coming here. Seemed a likely place to look."

"I didn't think she believed me."

"She didn't. You'd really have said it if you thought she would?"

Well - that was a reasonable question. He offered a small shrug. "Probably not." Then he actually considered the meaning behind it. "You believed me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Felt right."

Fair enough. Couldn't argue with that.

***

Gibbs watched as the top of Tony's head ducked once, before another shiver raced through him. He'd still not looked him in the eye. Or anywhere above the knee. That wasn't a good sign.

He'd nearly missed him, only his gut prodding him to look around outside before he headed in. Then he'd spotted the lone figure on the bench, arms tightly wrapped around his torso, and berated himself again for letting things get so bad.

Tony looked just as alone as he did earlier. Desolate. Afraid.

He'd lay odds that even if the younger man was aware of the first two, he had no idea of the last. He'd hate it if he did. Hate showing it.

Hate him seeing it.

Wasn't gonna mention it though. Needed to be careful here. Find a way to pull him back, not send him haring off in another direction. That would be a disaster.

A bigger disaster.

This had gone way past guilt and blame and recrimination. If he couldn't find a way to get through to him, then they were going to lose him. And not just to Boston.

"You ready to go home? Or d'you need more time?"

No response, but for a stiffening of the shoulders, only interrupted by yet another shiver. Kid was freezing.

Couldn't do anything about that now. Next step was in Tony's hands. He'd seen people in this state before, and it was always the same. Like dealing with a wild animal. You approach, and they'd attack, or they'd run. Had to wait until they were desperate enough to come to you despite the fear.

Except if he wasn't desperate enough by now, Gibbs really didn't want to sit by and watch what it took to get to that point.

"Fine. I'll be by the gate when you're ready."

Still no response, and he moved away silently, hoping that Tony would come round before he got much colder.

***

Now what? Now what? He darted a quick glance over towards the gate. Gibbs was right where he'd said he'd be, looking out across the street, away from him. His back was still, and silent, and formidable.

Back be damned. There was no chance he could get past his radar. He wasn't quite silent enough. Not quite fast enough. Not even remotely brave enough.

Not that it mattered. Even if he had been able to disappear into the night for a second time, no doubt his boss would simply keep pulling the same appearing trick again and again, until even Tony's brain could manage to get a clue and give in.

Plan B? Didn't exist. His only other option was to front up and see what he wanted. Easy enough, right?

Get up.

Walk over there.

Ask him.

He was reasonably certain he could manage the first part, but the rest of it was unfathomable. Quite simply, it went against every ounce of self preservation he had. He was absolutely certain that he couldn't survive much more of this without something breaking, and wasn't sure whether he was more concerned that it might be his own temper, or his boss's.

For God's sake! Why was he still thinking about this? There was no choice. Gibbs wasn't going to let him pull that stunt twice. It was painfully clear that he wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon. What had he said back at the apartment?

I'm not going anywhere. We're not done here.

He'd thought they had been. He'd thought – he'd known - that once Gibbs had seen through him to what hid inside, to the weakness, the badness, the pure, pure wrong, that they would be done. That he'd be left alone to pack his things and head out of town as soon as he could – encouraged to, even.

It had never once crossed his mind that he might be wrong. That even when his boss had seen all that, he might still not be done with him. That he could want him to give up more.

How could he, when there wasn't anything more to give?

He pulled in another deep breath, and let it out as slowly as he could. He was missing the point. Again. He had no choice. If he decided to sit here for a week, his boss would still be propped up by that gate, waiting for him to back down.

***

It took nearly half an hour, but eventually the waiting paid off, and the younger man ghosted up silently, head bowed, shoulders tense.

Looked like it had taken guts.

He stayed quiet, and waited some more, as DiNozzo hovered off his left shoulder. A few more minutes and he got his reward.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why find me?"

Make or break time. One wrong word here, and it would be back to square one. Or worse. "Because I'm not about to give up on you just because you want me to, DiNozzo. That's not how it works."

"How what works?"

"Having friends."