Part 6 (penultimate chapter)

Warning : Language

For just a moment, Tony stared at Gibbs and wondered how things could have possibly deteriorated to what they were. How f-cked up had he got that the one man who meant more to him than...? He shook his head; he wasn't going to have a replay of that tired song.

Flexing stiff shoulders, he eased himself back against the pillows, attempting to appear to the entire world as if he were totally relaxed. The way his hands played with the edge of his comforter, however, told a different story.

"Jimmy wasn't a bad guy, Gibbs - you do know that, right?"

His eyes flickered up as he waited for an imperceptible nod that never came.

"Do you have any idea what it's like at the Academy if they know your old man's head of a multinational organisation?"

Tony smiled, but there was only darkness in his eyes.

"Talk about hazing - hell, my life was--."

As if unwilling to reveal the ordeal he'd endured, he paused, cleared his throat and then continued in a different direction.

"But Jimmy was from the Bronx - family of blue collar workers and damned proud of it. Yet he didn't give a shit that I'd been brought up with a silver spoon in my mouth. We hit it off and from then on life became...well... easier, happier." Tony smiled tentatively, remembering those times of fond memories and then he sobered, his eyes shining with a different light. "On our graduation night, we swore we'd always be there for one another. Took an oath of sorts."

And seeing nothing on Gibbs' face to show his understanding, Tony gave him a hard pointed glare, and growled, "He made a mistake, okay? A f-cking mistake!" And pointing his finger at his superior, he goaded insolently, "But hell, what would you know about mistakes? You never make 'em, do you Gibbs?"

Refusing to rise to the bait, the grey-haired agent held on to his temper and hiding his own hurt, he asked gently, "Why didn't you come to me?"

And Tony almost laughed out loud at the irony of it. Why indeed? Because hadn't he wanted desperately to tell Gibbs? Hadn't he said as much to Jimmy? Hadn't he insisted that Gibbs would know what to do, that if anybody could sort out the mess he was in, Gibbs was the man?

But, as he knew all too well, life often sucked big time. Jimmy had been insistent; had made it clear that if Tony opened his mouth to anyone he, Jimmy, was as good as done for with his career. And then what would his wife and sons do, for God's sake?

Tony had acquiesced, far from relishing the prospect of helping his friend without Gibbs' presence. But eventually, as he got himself deeper and deeper into the unholy mess, Tony began to believe that it was actually for the better. What if dreams came true and Gibbs had joined him? - that would have made two of them in line for suspension or even worse - discharge with loss of pension. He couldn't ask that of anyone, especially Gibbs. The agency was his life.

And working hard to avoid thinking that the same applied to him, Tony veered his mind away from that crippling thought.

Deliberately avoiding eye contact now, Tony's eyes slid away as he stated flatly, "Everything was under control."

And Gibbs had to consciously bite his lower lip to force back a scathing retort as to his own opinion of that statement, taking the time to rub the tension out of his neck muscles so that when he next spoke he too had a modicum of control.

"Go on."

"A drug deal was going down. The Coppelli family had indicated that Jimmy was to make sure Vice was kept well away. Instead, Jimmy decided to come clean, for his family's sake, and so he gave Vice the info., but demanded to be in on the bust."

Gibbs sighed heavily, closing his eyes momentarily as the memory of his critically wounded agent hooked up to every medical lead imaginable shot through his mind.

"So where did you come into this?"

Tony hesitated, the lie on his lips until he saw Gibbs' astute stare. Dejection seemed to ooze from his every pore as he continued, "I knew it was risky what Jimmy was planning and I couldn't let him do it without backup - I'm talking my backup, my own personal backup. I went in undercover."

"On whose authority would that be, DiNozzo?"

It was Tony's turn to close his eyes at the biting sarcasm.

"I told Vice I was doing some preliminary undercover surveillance for NCIS on a deal connected with the Navy Yark, but as this was going down, I'd be happy to offer my services. The chief knew me from my earlier days, knew I was with NCIS, had no reason to doubt my offer."

"Offer your services," Gibbs echoed dryly.

Ignoring the grimness in the lead agent's voice, Tony continued, "I came in as a potential new buyer, used an alias I knew would be water tight - set it all up. Carlotta's people were happy to have more interest, but then it all went to hell in a hand basket when someone in Vice showed themselves too early. The perps got the drop on us and...the rest is history."

Eyes flashing dangerously, Tony continued defiantly as if sensing Gibbs' next words would be condemnation, "I don't regret what I did!" But as misery oozed from his every pore, he hunched forward in the bed to rest his elbows on his knees, dropping his head into his hands, while he muttered, "Only what happened to Jimmy."

Every protective cell in Gibbs' body screamed out at that moment for him to take action and offer support to the hurting man, but his own hurt helped him to steel himself from approaching, to keep his distance, so that he could finish handing out his lesson.

"So now what, DiNozzo?"

Tony raised eyes red-rimmed with weariness and torment; he looked so drained that it appeared as if a slight breeze could have downed him. But he was unable to hold Gibbs' gaze as he answered flatly, "I told you, I'm resigning. As soon as I get back to Headquarters, I'll type up my letter and have it on the Director's desk. Problem solved."

Tony failed to see Gibbs' eyes flash blue fire.

"Is that so?"

The younger man ignored the leaden sarcasm that coated the words like thick molasses.

When Tony raised his head, he exhaled a shaky breath trying not to dwell on the unthinkable.

Scathing didn't even come close to what Gibbs was conveying as he stated crisply, "I never took you for one of those holier-than-thou types, DiNozzo."

"Wha-at?" His confusion was clear, but Gibbs wasn't about to make things any easier.

"Isn't that what's done? Do penance? Renounce the world and enter a monastery? Personally, I think the world would be a better place if more people took it up, but you?" Scorn was too light a word to put on Gibbs' tone and Tony flinched visibly. "I kind of think giving up sex could be a problem for you? Ditto for following the Roman method of falling on your sword; it would be pretty messy."

Hiding his hurt with a noncommittal shrug, Tony's whole body seemed to deflate and with bone weary resignation, he shook his head and turned as if to throw back his cover and get up, muttering, "Think what you like."

But again, a firm hand reached out to push him back, dark eyes staring at him stonily.

"I didn't say you could move from there!"

Muttering under his breath, Tony tried wrenching away even though the movement made the wound in his back ache painfully.

Sucking in a deep breath, he growled, "I'm done here."

"You're done when I say you're done, not before. Now keep your ass in that bed!"

Tony, eyes flat and full of unforgiving hostility, raked Gibbs. Defiance emanated from his every pore. It had been a long time since he'd been made to feel so inconsequential, hell, less than inconsequential. The last time he'd been made to feel like this was with his father, when...no, he wouldn't go back there; that door was firmly closed and bolted.

Shuddering, he threw Gibbs an insolent look that owed more to his acting skills than to reality.

"I gave up needing a father when I was twelve years old. You can quit treating me like a kid!" And heart pounding fit to burst, he refused to acknowledge even to himself that yet again he was lying.

With a feral grin, his eyes flashing dangerously, Gibbs shot back acerbically, "Oh, you'd know if I was treating you like a kid, DiNozzo."

Uncomfortably aware of the flush of colour rising up his neck, Tony's jaw tightened. "What the hell does that mean?"

"What do you think it means?"

Tension flooded the air, drawn as taut as a drum skin. Then as Tony blinked, he suppressed every hurt, exposed cell in his body, covering it with a brittle mask of insufferable conceit as he stated, "I think beating the crap out of your subordinate...would... be frowned on by the powers that be!"

As his blue eyes narrowed dangerously, Gibbs struggled with the raging need to shake some sense into the younger man and it made it no easier that another part of him wanted to pull Tony into his shoulder and tell him that everything was going to be alright.

It wasn't. And anyway, Tony was no fool.

Stepping away from the bedside, Gibbs picked up the tray with hands white-knuckled and turned away.

"Ducky's on his way. I suggest you stay in that bed and not give him any further excuse to chew either of us out when he gets here."

----------

His mind reeled. Jimmy. Gibbs. Jimmy. Gibbs. Shit, it wasn't as if he'd ever had a choice. The moment he'd fallen under the former marine's gruff spell the choice had been taken away from him. Gibbs wasn't in any trouble. Jimmy was. There was only one solution. So why was he suddenly being made to feel that he'd made the wrong choice; that he'd left Gibbs for Jimmy? He'd be more than willing to bet a year's pay that Gibbs would have gone to the aid of a fellow marine should help have been requested. So why should it be any different when he followed the code of honour? Dammit to hell, would Gibbs have him be something different to what he was?

As Tony's chaotic thoughts whirled more and more out of control, he felt the walls of the bedroom start to close in on him. The intense need to escape the confines of the cabin and to be outside, away from the suffocating net of control that seemed to encompass his every move, drove him to action. Hurriedly dressing, he silently opened the patio windows of his bedroom and stepped onto the deck.

The pinch of chill wind blew off the lake, making him shiver, but he breathed deeply, welcoming the penetrating cold, determined to blow away the suffocating cobwebs that were torturing him.

And before he had time for clear thought, he was scrabbling off the deck and onto the grass, heading for the lake and its brooding calmness, oblivious of the darkness of the night and the icy wind that heralded the impending storm.

His brain was a kaleidoscope of thoughts racing around in erratic leaps interspersed by heavy duty curses. He crossed the grass and stumbled onto the path circumventing the dark, silent lake while the wind blew an eerie echo over the water proclaiming that worse weather was to follow.

When the rain decided to make an appearance, it came down in solid grey sheets, soaking Tony to the skin in mere seconds, but he barely gave it a moment's thought as he limped hurriedly along the path now thick with mud as if he had an important rendezvous.

The trouble with secrets was that you couldn't tell anyone, and yet it wasn't even a secret - not really. It's just that he hadn't confided in Jimmy to the point where he could tell him the truth of why he was really there to help him. Yes, his promise made at the Academy had gone a long way, but not the whole way. When his father had deserted him all those years back the scar had cut deeper than even Tony had been willing to accept and he had buried the pain of that loss, unwilling to share with anyone the true grief it had brought him. The harsh school of disappointment made sure Tony viewed life with a brittle outlook that he managed to cover with a spoilt frat-boy outlook that fooled most.

But Gibbs had wittingly or unwittingly - Tony still hadn't worked that out - spun a spell that had caught Tony's heart, made him make some readjustments in the way he saw himself and the way he saw others and from that moment on the path had been drawn for what Tony would follow in life.

That he knew Jimmy's plan was in some significant way flawed was obvious almost from the start, but knowing what Gibbs would have done in his place pushed Tony on, for he had somehow got it into his head that the code Gibbs lived by, must be the one that he, Tony must live by too. You did not desert a friend in his hour of need, even if that friend had taken kickbacks and fried his brain with heroin. Those were mere complicating factors that had to be taken into the equation. Nor was Tony careless of his own safety; he took nothing for granted - Gibbs had made sure of that, yet even knowing that there would be a price to pay, he had accepted that sorry state of affairs as part of the whole mess.

His thoughts churned over and over in his head as he walked along the banks of the lake. At one point the path was thick with foliage that had grown onto it. Nettles and dock leaves grasped at Tony's sweatpants, but he kicked his way through them, determined on keeping his momentum as if that would surely provide the inspiration to solve the riot of thoughts his brain was trying to bring under control.

It was as he was swiping at his eyes in a vain attempt to keep the heavy rain from them that his toe caught in a thicket of low lying undergrowth. Caught off balance, he attempted to use his other foot to dislodge the irritating nuisance only to find his body reel to the side as the earth gave way slightly from the combined weight of the rain and his body. And then the rain slammed into him with a sideways ferocity that was his undoing.

It didn't last long, but it was enough to shatter his sense of equilibrium and as his arms flailed to right what had gone wrong, he felt his foot slide further down the bank. As he felt his body lean wildly over the water's edge he flailed his arms backwards. And even knowing he wasn't going to like what happened next, still the iciness of the frozen waters took his breath away.

----------

It was his favourite single malt whisky, and as Ducky handed a glass of Glenfiddich to his friend, he breathed in the aroma of an alcoholic beverage that could so restore him to composure with just the simple sensorial touch of the golden liquid in a cut-glass tumbler.

"To your good health, Jethro."

He raised the glass and swallowed appreciatively, watching his friend do the same. He smiled as Gibbs closed his eyes in a rare show of approval.

"Don't you think that's throwing the toast in my face when I've got DiNozzo to child-mind."

Leaning back on the sofa, the mild-mannered M.E.'s eyes crinkled in amusement.

Oh, come now, Jethro. You know you'd have been like a bear with a sore head had you been deprived of this down time with young Anthony."

Grimacing wryly, Gibbs lifted his shaking head.

"I think you've got the equation mixed up, Ducky. I'm a bear with a sore head now and it's getting worse by the minute. And don't tell me to talk to DiNozzo because I've done nothing but."

Lowering his glass, the older man eyed his friend with keen eyes.

"And?"

"And nothing. I don't like it one little bit, but what I'm left with is one...hell, I don't even know myself. One minute he's a cocky, over-confident son of a b**** who considers himself so damned superior that he feels he can just waltz in and take down a drug lord and then, when the shit hits the fan, believes that the next best thing for him to do is quit. And then there are those moments when he's so torn up with insecurity that I..." Gibbs scrubbed a tired hand over his troubled features, then hardened his jaw. "Well, he's got another thing coming if he thinks he can just quit because...What?...What?"

As Gibbs watched the confusion change to disbelief in Ducky's pale eyes, his words trailed off.

"Jethro, surely you don't believe Anthony chose to go off just to satisfy his own egotistical demands?"

"What the hell else am I to think, Ducky?" And knocking back the rest of his drink Gibbs reached for the bottle, his expression all too clearly showing his disaffection with his own logic.

"But surely after talking you understood why he did what he did."

Pinning him with a glacial glare, the former marine growled, "What the hell am I supposed to have understood?"

"Jethro, young Anthony took the course of action he did because that is what he thought you would have done."

"He what?" Gibbs had already leapt to his feet as he growled out his question, clearly as irritated as all hell. "And you know this how?"

The M.E. smiled almost apologetically for what he was about to say. "Oh come now, Jethro. You don't mean to tell me that you haven't realised your senior field agent has you up on the highest hero pedestal there is."

As Ducky's words penetrated Gibbs' mind he was suddenly looming over the older man, snarling threateningly, "You mean to tell me he--." Snapping off the rest of his words he turned, striding towards Tony's bedroom, his face flat as he growled, "I'll give him a hero's pedestal when I get my hands on him!"

And now, at long last, he knew what had been eating away at the injured man, understood the look he hadn't been able to read until now. It was disappointment; bitter disappointment that Gibbs had failed to endorse DiNozzo's action; disappointment that Gibbs hadn't patted him on the back with a 'Good job,' to finish it off perfectly, and finally, the worst of all, aching disappointment with himself for being naive enough to have hoped for such a clichéd ending.

"Jethro!"

Ducky's warning went unheeded as Gibbs thrust open the door and Ducky had to admit he was a little confused by the silence that ensued until Gibbs returned, marching to the door and grabbing his coat.

"He's gone damned walkabout again."

----------

To be continued