Sweet Gestures

Chapter 4

The next day they were back at work and, as Gibbs had predicted, the snow began to melt. Morning sunshine did its job and by noon the DC streets were a mess of slush and dirty snow.

Tony had taken photos of the snowmen that Gibbs had made when they were still in their prime on the previous day. They'd melted down to unidentifiable lumps so before they left for the Navy Yard Tony took a moment to rescue the soggy hat, scarf and gloves, and the fishing rod, from the front yard.

He'd noticed that morning that Gibbs was moving slower than usual so he made an off-the-cuff remark about old men not bouncing back too fast. When Gibbs didn't crack a smile or sling a retort his way, Tony realized his lover's problem wasn't from overextending himself during sex. He surreptitiously watched the way Gibbs got to his feet - when exiting the car and later when rising from the chair at his desk- and decided it was Gibbs' knees that were giving him trouble.

Of course Gibbs caught Tony checking him out and made no effort to hide his annoyance. Later when they were in the bullpen Tony handed him a couple of pills from a bottle that said 'for arthritis pain' in such large lettering that not only Gibbs, but the entire team, could read it, Gibbs snapped, "You a geriatric specialist all of a sudden, DiNozzo?"

Tony was taken aback by the jeering tone but he recovered quickly. With a smile he replied, "No, I'm only a Gibbs specialist."

Gibbs took the pills and allowed a slight nod. He hated getting old, and his knees really hurt that morning. Every time it was cold and damp they literally creaked like a staircase in an old house, sometimes so loud he was afraid everyone else could hear it too. Signs of weakness were not limited to apologies. He was afraid of not being able to keep up, of not being there for his team, of letting them down, just as his own body was letting him down. He was afraid of pity and being forced out of his job, and that Tony would think of him as being old. And even if the offhanded remarks about old men, and needing glasses, and damned arthritis pills, for God's sake, had some basis in truth, it didn't lessen his fear one bit.

They were called out on a case that afternoon when a body was discovered in the melting snow. It appeared that the victim had been murdered and then tossed down a steep hill by the side of the road. Tony and Gibbs took a sedan and Ziva and McGee drove the van. Ducky and Palmer, in the medical examiner's truck, were close behind.

The team carefully made their way down the mushy slope carrying their equipment. Tony complained about the cold, the damp air, his too-tight boots, and the latest film he'd seen that hadn't lived up to its reviews. He was clowning around with McGee and then both of them slipped, arms akimbo, grabbing at each other and righting themselves, laughing in relief.

Gibbs, who was in the lead and halfway down the hill, glanced back because, despite his foul mood, he needed to see Tony laughing. Like an addict, he thought, always wanting more than does you good. Gibbs wasn't paying enough attention to his footing and his knees were stiff, so it was he who slipped and fell. He tumbled and slid about twenty feet and came to a sudden, painful stop against a cement drainage culvert at the bottom of the slope.

"Shit!" Tony dropped his knapsack and the rest of the equipment he was carrying and half ran, half slid down to Gibbs' side. Ziva and McGee followed, but their questions and concerns, and Tony's helping hands, were angrily swept aside by their downed boss. Once his heart had stopped hammering Tony stood over Gibbs, who was lying in the wet snow, watching him for any sign that he needed medical attention. He had to bite his lips to prevent himself from saying anything.

Are you sure you haven't broken anything? Is your hip all right 'cause it sure as hell looked like you came to a pretty abrupt stop there, Boss? You need x-rays? Right now I really want to take you in my arms, Jethro, and hug you hard because I was scared for a moment there and I almost had a heart attack…

For a minute Gibbs didn't move and then, cautiously, he sat upright. He was embarrassed by his fall, but more so by the unwanted attention. He was soaked to the skin and already damned cold, but he was pretty sure he hadn't broken anything. Hurt, yes. Broken, no. "I'm fine," he snapped.

"Uh, I think that's my usual line, Boss," Tony said lightly, getting a glare for his trouble.

Still, Gibbs hadn't risen to his feet so Tony stood there on guard. Ziva and McGee watched their team leader warily then their eyes met over his head in a silent exchange. Before Gibbs could tell them to get on with their work they took it upon themselves to move along to the victim's body and they began to process the scene.

Ducky made his way down the slope to Gibbs' side, Palmer right behind him, wearing appropriate footwear for once. When Tony described the fall Gibbs had taken and expressed his concern, the ME gave him a sharp look that suggested Tony would be wise to leave the doctor to deal with Gibbs.

Tony reluctantly did as he was told and moved over to the crime scene to begin his work. He had a hard time concentrating on his job while keeping half an eye on Gibbs.

Ducky squatted down to talk to the fallen agent and after a short time helped him to his feet. It was then that Ducky signaled for Tony to come over. Gibbs stood there stiffly, soaked through from the wet snow, his mouth set. Tony interpreted it, from long experience, as an effort to hide considerable pain.

"Give Jethro a shoulder to lean on, will you, Anthony? Just up to the car, if you will. And turn the heat on high for him please."

Tony slipped an arm around Gibbs' waist and waited for some kind of signal to proceed. After a slight hesitation Gibbs slung his arm around Tony's shoulder and hung on for support. They slowly climbed back up the steep slope, with Tony watching Gibbs' face for signs of overt pain. He was definitely limping, favoring his left leg. Gibbs refused to meet his eyes, which was worrisome. Tony settled his boss in the passenger seat of the car, and when Gibbs winced, Tony finally spoke. "I'm gonna take you to the hospital, Jethro. You need to get that leg looked at-."

He wasn't allowed to finish his sentence. "No." Gibbs turned his head and, for the first time since he fell, looked Tony in the eye. His gaze was cold and unrelenting. "I don't need a hospital. I just need some heat on it and-."

It was Tony's turn to interrupt. "It's cold for bruises. You could have broken your hip, or pulled something, Jethro. You can't just-."

"I've already been through this with Ducky, so stop hovering, DiNozzo!"

Tony pushed even though he could see that Jethro was very close to losing his temper. Though why he would be so angry, just like a snapping dog, when everyone was trying to take care of him was a mystery. "Damn it, Jethro, you need-."

"Don't call me Jethro. In the field you call me Gibbs or Boss. Is that clear, DiNozzo?"

Despite knowing that the man was in pain and wasn't handling the whole situation very well, his words cut Tony to the core. He held Gibbs' eyes for a long beat, then he looked away and stepped back from the car. "Crystal, Agent Gibbs. Are you staying here at the scene or do you want someone to drive you back, sir?" They'd also brought the MCRT truck, so it was no problem if Gibbs wanted to leave immediately. Maybe Ducky could spare Palmer to drive Gibbs wherever he wanted to go.

"You take the lead on this one, DiNozzo," Gibbs said abruptly.

"Agent Gibbs?" Jimmy Palmer stood nervously next to the car holding an ice pack in one hand. "Dr. Mallard says I should give this-."

Gibbs took the ice pack and held it to his left thigh without a word, and Palmer took the opportunity to retreat.

Tony called to Palmer as he headed back down the hill, "Thanks, Jimmy." The raised hand told Tony he'd been heard and the apology was accepted. Tony found Gibbs' rudeness to the defenseless Palmer was worse than being short with him. Without a word Tony jumped in the driver's side, started the car and cranked up the heat. He got out and slammed the door shut.

Gibbs ran his hand through his hair and called out in exasperation, "Tony…"

Tony backed away, shaking his head. "No, I understand. If you need anything just hit the horn. I have to get back to work." He headed down the slope, recklessly, and blindly made sketches of the scene. He could sense everyone's eyes on him, but he kept his head down and did his job in silence. Afterwards he couldn't remember taking measurements but the drawing in his notebook proved he'd managed to perform his duty. By the time they had the scene wrapped up he was chilled to the bone. Finally back up on the roadway, the victim's body safe in Ducky's vehicle, Tony saw that the car they'd arrived in was gone, Gibbs and McGee with it.

"McGee just left," Ziva said without Tony asking. "He drove Gibbs back to the Navy Yard."

Tony nodded. They stowed the equipment in the truck and he let Ziva drive them back, for once without making any protest about her driving.

When the team arrived back at the bullpen, it was to find that Gibbs was not present. Neither was McGee. Tony had a war with himself about picking up his phone to call Jethro - sorry, Agent Gibbs - to ask how he was and if he'd gone to get his leg checked out. Tony didn't want to get his head bitten off again, that was for sure. McGee walked in an hour later, the look on his face a cross between relief and apology. To Tony's inquiring look he said, "I drove the boss home and saw he got inside, but he wouldn't let me help him Tony. Sorry…"

McGee began to explain but Tony cut him off with, "Nothing to be sorry for, Tim," and began talking about the case. After that they made calls and background checks and did their standard investigation while they waited for forensics and autopsy results to appear. Around five o'clock Tony gave in and called Jethro's cell. He let it ring until the voicemail picked up and he left a short message. "We're still working on the case. Call if you need anything." After he hung up Tony took a deep breath and went down to talk to Ducky.

Tony stuck his hands in his pockets and acted nonchalant. "I won't keep you long, Duck. Just want to get a heads up about Gibbs. Do I need to drag him to the hospital or what?"

Ducky eyed him for a long moment and then said, "It appeared to be a case of deep bruising, Anthony. I suggested Jethro bend the knee, and use ice packs and plenty of painkillers. He'll be stiff tomorrow. If he can't put any weight on it or if there's severe pain or swelling, call me but also take him to the hospital, no matter what he says."

Tony felt drained and his voice reflected it. "He won't listen to me, Ducky."

"Nonsense, my dear boy. Oh he'll protest like mad but if you push the right buttons Gibbs will do whatever you wish."

"After today…" Tony shook his head. He knew Gibbs could be pig-headed and cranky at times but it wasn't like him to get so steamed up over an injury. Maybe something else was eating him. Christmas was not the time of celebration for either of them that it was for others.

Abruptly Ducky asked, "Have you been exchanging gifts with each other?"

Startled by the change of subject, Tony said, "Uh, yeah. Every day." He couldn't help smiling when he recalled their gift exchange so far. Foot massages and snowmen and sex.

"Mmm. Perhaps tonight the gift of patience is in order."

That brought a wry smile to Tony's lips. "I think we both give each other that gift every day, Ducky." He looked up to meet the ME's eyes. "How's your gift exchange going with Palmer so far?"

"I taught him some of my secret golf swings and he made me a CD of my favorite classical organ pieces, including Alexandre Guilmant's Funeral March. Very thoughtful of him." Ducky looked as if a thought had suddenly struck him. "I wonder…if he meant the gift as a pun?"

"Sounds like you're off to a good start. Call me when you're done with the autopsy, will you? I've got the lead until Gibbs says otherwise." Or snatches it back, Tony thought.

"Well, this young lieutenant's autopsy won't be complete for a while yet. I suggest you go home and take care of the other victim from this morning's scene. Oh, before I forget, take these pills for Jethro, will you?" He pulled a small envelope from his breast pocket and handed it to Tony. "I knew there was no point in giving them to him directly. He should take them with milk, and…a warning in your ear, my lad…they might knock him out."

"Thanks, Duck. I'll take care of him."

A quick visit to Abby meant that Tony had to explain that Gibbs had slipped in the snow and to assure her that he was only bruised. Of course she saw through him and Tony ended up fielding all sorts of questions to which he had no good answers. In the end Abby perceived how tired Tony was and let him go with a hug and a warning to take special care of her silver fox.

Before he left Tony stopped to ask her what gifts she and McGee had exchanged so far.

With a wicked smile Abby said, "I gave McGee a henna tattoo across his chest that says 'Leather Boy,' then I dressed him up and took him to a club."

"And he went willingly?"

She grinned at the sight of Tony's look of disbelief. "Oh yes, because I told him it was the only way I'd accept his gift to me." Abby jumped up and down waiting for Tony to ask her to explain further.

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, what did he want to give you so desperately?"

"I think Timmy has picked up Jimmy's foot fetish. He gave me a pedicure. Bathed my feet, painted my toenails. Yeah, he took care of my tootsies like a pro. It was awesome! Our Timmy has some hidden talents, and not just with my feet."

Once he was in the elevator, Tony broke out in laughter, remembering how turned on Jethro had been over his foot massage. He also wondered how he was going to sneak a photo of McGee's henna tattoo and post it on the Internet.

***end chapter 4***