A/N. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far. I really do appreciate it. To Azamiko – ok, an Irish mother testifying against her son may be pushing the boundaries of reality a little, but how else was I supposed to work in Tony's Mrs Doyle impression? :D Here's chapter 3. Hope you enjoy.

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DiNozzo's head was pounding – his headache had been getting progressively worse all day, until he was sure his boss was going to notice that something was wrong. Tony hated getting sick; he especially hated all the extra effort it took to convince everyone he was fine. Subconsciously, although he would never have admitted it even to himself, he had a deep-rooted fear of being replaced, and he wasn't going to give Gibbs, or anyone else, the slightest excuse to get rid of him. As a child he couldn't help but notice that after his mother's death, he was quickly replaced in his father's affections by a string of new wives, each one younger than the next. Even at college, when an accident ended any hope he might have had of a football career, there were any number of young hopefuls ready to take his place. When he had decided to go into law enforcement, DiNozzo had hoped he had put that part of his life behind him. He was damned good at his job – he had made sure of it. To prove that he had earned his job and his rank, he had worked longer and harder than anyone else, and his results had always been second to none. Despite this, few people were able to see through his frat boy persona, and he never seemed to earn anyone's respect, and only made superficial friendships. This was probably just as well, he considered – inevitably something always went wrong, and Tony found himself hightailing it to the next job, the next state, the next life; until he had finally ended up at NCIS. He sensed something about Gibbs in particular that made him think this time would be different, but he wasn't willing to test the hypothesis this early in their working relationship. As far as Gibbs would be concerned, he was on top of the world. Gibbs, however, had gone for takeout, and in the meantime, Tony could allow his mask to slip a little.

Tony was seated in a position that allowed him a full view of the only entrance to the small house, in case anyone should attempt to enter. Gibbs had convinced Tony that Mrs O'Connell was almost certainly not in danger, but with that came the knowledge that someone was almost certainly going to try to kill or capture the senior agent. While Gibbs was out of the way, however, DiNozzo could allow himself this small luxury. He gently massaged his nose and closed his eyes, thankful for the relief from the pain caused by the simple act of allowing the light to land on his retina. He tipped his head back, resting his head on the cool wall behind him, and allowed his other senses to take over.

It could never be said that a blind DiNozzo was a helpless one. Thanks to the amount of time he had spent alone in the dark during his childhood, Tony's hearing was almost as finely honed as if he were blind. It had always been easier to avoid being found when his father had returned home from a business deal gone wrong, or was in the middle of a raging row with wife number seven. The young DiNozzo had grown accustomed to hiding in various dark spaces, listening for the telltale signs that his father was no longer awake or had calmed down enough for Tony to be able to deal with. As a consequence of all these hours of training, DiNozzo had no problem picking out the sounds of Mrs O'Connell clattering around in the kitchen, or of Gibbs' car pulling up at the driveway and the older man making his way towards the house and in through the door. Despite this, he couldn't muster the energy to open his eyes and face his returning team leader.

'Sleeping on the job, DiNozzo?' Gibbs' accusing tone sounded as soon as the door had closed. Despite expecting his boss to speak, Tony had to force himself not to react.

'No, Boss,' he answered without bothering to open his eyes. 'Your car pulled up two minutes and fifteen seconds ago. The exhaust rattles, by the way. You should get that looked at. You got out of the car and spent one minute talking to the guy out front about the cops' shift change pattern, then you walked in and opened the door. You have a very distinctive marine stealth tread. Difficult to mistake. There was absolutely no way you could have been anyone else. Despite that, if you look at my hands, you'll find my sig pointing at your chest with the safety catch off. The only thing left to note is the smell. You brought Chinese. I'd guess beef with black bean sauce, egg fried rice, sweet and sour chicken and noodles.' He finally found the energy to open his eyes, look at his boss and plaster a grin across his face. 'How'd I do?'

'You missed the prawn crackers,' Gibbs stated before marching past into the main living area. Clearly no compliments on DiNozzo's detective skills would be forthcoming this evening. Tony forced himself to stand, grateful Gibbs wasn't there to see him steady himself against the wall, then lifted his head, forced a smile and followed the older man into the room. The senior agent had already started doling out the food. Tony grimaced inwardly, knowing that in order to keep up the façade, he was going to have to make the attempt to eat.

The moment the food entered his mouth, DiNozzo knew he had made a mistake. His stomach flipped, and he had to force himself not to gag. Narrowly managing to swallow his first mouthful of chicken, he dropped his fork back into the tray.

'Actually boss,' he confessed. 'I'm not really hungry.' He looked away, but not before seeing Gibbs' eyes narrow suspiciously.

'DiNozzo, you've eaten nothing since this morning. I've never seen you go more than three hours without a meal, not to mention all the snacks you eat in between.' Damn the man for being so observant. Then came the question the younger man had been dreading. 'Are you sick, DiNozzo?'

'I, uh…' he stammered. 'It's nothing, boss.' Damn. He hadn't meant to say that. What had he been thinking? There was no way Gibbs was going to let this drop now. Sure enough, the older man looked even more suspicious than he had before.

'What is, DiNozzo?'

'Nothing.' Tony responded quickly. 'Nothing. I'm fine.' If anything, Gibbs looked angry at his response.

'I don't know how things worked at Baltimore P.D.,' Gibbs fumed, 'but at NCIS we have rules. More importantly, I have rules, and I'm going to start your education with rule number one. Never, ever, screw over your partner. We're together on this, and I need to know that you're here to back me up. If you're sick, I need to know. Are we clear?'

Tony flinched as much from the intensity of his boss's glare as from the harshness of his voice.

'It's just a headache boss, I swear,' he finally admitted. 'It's making me a little queasy but it's nothing I can't handle. Really!' he added for effect. He could almost feel his boss's eyes on his face, scrutinising him closely. Eventually, the older man nodded. Tony let out the breath he had been holding. He wasn't expecting Gibbs' next words, however.

'Well if you're not going to eat that, hit the sack. Upstairs, door on the right.' Tony glanced down at his watch. 9p.m. Anger rose up within him. He knew he shouldn't have admitted he was sick. Now Gibbs was going to have trouble trusting him to watch tv, never mind act as backup

'I'm not a child, Gibbs! I said I'm fine! Why can't you just…' he protested.

'Hey. I know you're not a child,' the older man replied evenly, 'but you are taking the graveyard shift; so if you want to stay awake all night, be my guest. Otherwise, I suggest you get some rest. I'll wake you at three.' Tony cringed. Jumping to conclusions like that had just made him look like an even bigger idiot in front of his boss. Still, for the moment Gibbs seemed not to have noticed. Reluctantly, he pushed himself up from the table and dragged himself up the stairs. He had to admit to himself as he collapsed on top of the crisp, clean sheets that this sleep thing wasn't such a bad idea after all.