CHAPTER 14

"Damn it, Son, you cannot be going through with this!" Senator DiNozzo's fist crashed on the linen-covered table, making the silver and crystal tremble.

"I am, Dad, and I stand by my decision. I've already handed in my formal resignation. It'll become public in a few days." Tony watched the struggle going on in his father's mind, Senior's desire to shout tempered by the fact they were sitting in one of the best restaurants in Washington, with several of Senior's cronies within earshot.

"How can you throw this all away?" Senior shook his head, disappointment written all over his face. "You are one of the few young men in politics with a clean record, who is in a position to climb to great heights…"

Tony zoned out as his father went over all the reasons why he could not – must not – give up his political career. Instead, Tony kept glancing at Jethro Gibbs, who was sitting at the bar, watching him right back.

"I'll keep you in my line of sight at all times," Jethro had promised, pulling at his tie.

"Stop fiddling. You keep making it crooked, ruining perfection," Tony had said good-naturedly. He'd already straightened the tie, which seemed to be choking the man, twice already.

"Yeah, well, I don't like the situation," Jethro had grumbled.

"It's dinner with my father, not a drug bust. You're not going to get me all wired up with a mic and one of those earwigs, are you, Special Agent Gibbs?"

"That's not such a bad an idea," Jethro had retorted, apparently serious.

Knowing that Jethro was there to keep an eye on things gave Tony confidence. Until he'd walked into the restaurant, he hadn't known how much the crowded place would affect him. The walls loomed as if closing in. Everyone seemed to be staring at him, and he started sweating before he'd even been ushered to his father's table. Tony had tried to do an about face, but Jethro had taken hold of his elbow and steered him into the men's room.

Once there, Jethro had calmed him down. "I'll be within a few feet of you at all times. You sit with your father, say what you need to say, and we'll leave whenever you want to. You can walk out at any time, Tony. You don't need his permission. If you need my help, you just raise your hand. I'll be watching. You got that?"

Tony had glanced in the direction of his father's table. "Jethro?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you really help in me in any way I want?"

"Yeah," Jethro had replied warily.

Screwing up his features, Tony had squirmed a little and asked, "You think maybe you could hold my hand and walk me over to Dad's table?" The headslap had not been unexpected, but a second after delivering the light slap, Jethro's fingers had ruffled the back of Tony's hair. Tony had protested, "Not the hair!"

"Get in there. I'm gonna be watching you," Jethro had said, giving Tony a firm push in the right direction.

Tony had done as he was told, and when he'd looked over his shoulder to confirm that Jethro really was keeping an eye on him, he'd found Jethro watching his progress with a small smile.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

"Junior? Are you listening to me?" Senior turned to see what Tony kept looking at. As soon as Senior spotted Jethro he waved his hand, inviting him over. "Why didn't you tell me your Marine was here?" Senior rose to greet Jethro like a long-lost friend, and made a big deal out of thanking him for saving his son. Several of the restaurant patrons actually applauded, and Tony enjoyed the sight of his tough Marine/NCIS agent friend blushing to the roots of his silver hair.

Tony stood beside Jethro and nudged his shoulder with his own. In an undertone, he said, "I'll bet you're the kind of Marine who doesn't turn up at his own awards ceremony." The way Jethro stared at him made Tony smile, knowing he was right on the money. He stepped away from Jethro in order to face him and join the applause. "Thank you, Jethro Gibbs, for what you did," Tony said sincerely, loudly enough so everyone could hear him.

Jethro acknowledged Tony's gratitude by dipping his head a little, but he soon escaped, heading back to the comparative safety of the bar.

"Mr. Gibbs should join us for lunch," Senior was saying, looking as though he intended to go after Jethro and drag him back to their table.

"Stop torturing the guy, Dad," Tony said, still smiling. He realized at that point that his initial misgivings about entering the crowded restaurant had faded to nothing. The feeling that the walls were closing in on him had pretty much gone, and he was hungry for a change.

Tony ate most of the steak and potato on his plate, and politely refused any wine, instead sticking to sparkling water. After talking politics for a bit, Tony said thoughtfully, "You know, Dad, I used to believe that being in the public eye made people honest. I know, hopelessly naive. I soon found out how wrong that belief was."

"You were so bright-eyed, I didn't want to discourage you. Seems a long time ago," Senior said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, well, I learned to cover up everything I was feeling, and soon excelled at deflecting and avoiding," Tony replied with a tight smile. "Putting on a mask became such a habit that it affected every relationship I had, including the one I had with you."

"We've always managed to get along," Senior said, waving a hand dismissively.

"No. No, we haven't, Dad. I'm really good at being undercover. I love being someone else, and have since I was a kid. It's real rush sometimes, a great escape. That's why I took every undercover job I could when I was a cop. For two years running, I was always someone else. But there comes a time when you just have to say, stop, I can't deal with this any more. I didn't even know if I what I was feeling was real or not. It's like I'm shortchanging everyone, me, you."

"We can't go around letting people know what we're really thinking," said Senior. "Especially in politics."

"There are times it makes sense, like not telling the whole story to avoid hurting someone, but that's not what I'm talking about. I immersed myself in being this…this fake person, Dad. I became him."

"That's ridiculous. You've always shown your feelings. And everyone loves you, Anthony. You're the man Senator Thurston calls when he needs a golf buddy. You're the first on the list when any of the DC ladies has a gala and needs an emcee. And I swear every member of the Senate asked me, every day, how you were doing, after the kidnapping. These people care about you, and that kind of good will can't be bought, son."

Tony sighed. "I know but I…I feel numb, like that's not the real me. I just don't enjoy what I'm doing, and I believe I can do better, achieve more if I work outside the political arena. I'm really good at investigation, threat assessment, teaching people…"

Senior refused to hear it. "You can take a little time off. Everyone will understand. And then next year you can run for the Senate, and…"

"No Dad. I need to get back in the field, to stop sitting on my complacent ass." Tony didn't say so, but he was sure that if he'd been at the top of his game, Beals never would have been able to sneak up on him and overpower him. "I've done this job the past six years, and I believe I've done it well, but the way I look at it, I'm going to continue working for the same causes, but without having to toe the party line. There'll be another person taking my place, one who I am positive is going to do a far better job than I ever did. And I can tell you without any doubt that they'll enjoy doing it better than I have been."

"Son, if this is because of everything you've been through…You've been going to counseling?"

No, he hadn't, unless you counted Agent Fornell as a counselor, but Tony wasn't about to tell that to his father. "I made this decision before any of that happened. You know that. I admire you, Dad, and the work you do, because nobody truly knows how much of yourself you put into it, and all the weighty decisions you have to make. But it's your life. It's not mine. Not any more."

"Anthony…"

"No, Dad," Tony warned. He looked over towards where he knew Jethro was on guard, and saw the older man had stepped forward. Tony gave Jethro a slight nod, just to let him know everything was all right and he didn't have to come running to the rescue.

Although Senior backed off trying to talk Tony into remaining in politics, and instead they talked about what Zack had been up to lately, Tony could tell that his father wasn't going to let this go. Eventually, he asked something that had been at the back of his mind for a while. "Dad, what did you mean, in the hospital, about taking care of everything?" Senior seemed taken aback, and explained he'd made sure Tony was taken care of, that was all, but Tony wasn't buying it. "Don't kid a kidder," Tony said.

Senior fiddled with his drink for a minute. "I went to see Marian. To make sure you remained safe, you understand."

"Marian Tozier?" Tony felt his heart rate speed up.

With a vague wave of a hand, Senior said, "Look, I had no way of knowing if she'd a hand in what her son had been up to, but I wasn't taking any chances. Did you ever meet Frank?"

Feeling sick to his stomach, Tony retorted, "Well, yeah, Dad – I met him when he abducted me!"

Senior quickly said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…I meant before. Even when Frank was a sniveling kid, I pegged him for being…disturbed." Senior signaled the waiter and a fresh drink. "You sure you don't want something stronger?"

"Wait a minute…You knew him, as a kid?" Tony couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Well, I used to get together with Marian a couple of times a year," Senior said, the small smirk telling Tony exactly what those get-togethers had entailed. "But that stopped a long time ago. I'd bump into her sometimes, and little Frankie was always hanging onto her. That kid was a little shit, and he didn't improve any with age. He let the brake off my new convertible and it ran down a hill and ended up in a culvert. The kid couldn't have been more than eight. I know he did it on purpose! Anyway, the other day, I went over to that youth center Marian runs and had a talk with her." He took a big gulp of his drink as soon as the waiter put it in front of him.

From his dad's pained expression, Tony gathered the meeting with Marian Tozier hadn't gone well.

Senior continued, "I told Marian, in no uncertain terms, that if I ever found out that she had anything to do with my son's abduction, I'd personally see that she was ruined. That's when she lit into me about how I should have supported her political career. Funded her, she meant. Ha! Not me! Hell, I had no idea she was so tightly wound, or I never would have approached her. As soon as Marian started spouting Scripture as political slogans, I got out of there."

Still trying to digest that his father had gone out of his way to confront Marian Tozier, Tony asked, "You think she was part of it?"

"I think her son was a loony tune, and that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Senior said, taking another sip of his drink. He sighed deeply. "I don't think she'd raise her hand against you…or me…but I still wouldn't turn my back on her," he warned.

Tony had heard enough and he was tired, both physically and mentally, and Jethro was waiting patiently for him. He suggested, "Maybe we can take Zack on an outing. You know, something he'll remember years from now."

For a minute, Tony thought his father was going to brush him off, but Senior said gleefully, "I know, Junior, we can take him to a Civil War reenactment, and show him how to carry the bucket!"

Tony couldn't help laughing along with his father. He thought Zack might just find the whole thing, carrying the poop bucket, hilarious. Tony stood and so did his father, and they hugged, a real hug – but then there were eyes upon them so maybe it was all an act on his father's part, Tony thought cynically.

He only had to look around and Jethro was at his side, asking, "You okay?"

"Let's get out of here," Tony muttered. They made their way out of the restaurant as speedily as they could. Once in the car, Jethro asked him if he wanted to stop somewhere for a drink, just to wind down, but Tony slowly shook his head and asked, "Can we just go home?"

"Home with me?" Jethro asked, a light in his eyes telling Tony that he was fine with the idea.

"Yeah, back to the farm," Tony said, smiling tiredly.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

Despite living a busy life, Tony spent as much time as possible at Kelly Brook Farm. He only slept at his condo in Baltimore a handful of times, when he was afraid he'd fall asleep at the wheel on the way to the farm. Jethro always welcomed Tony in a friendly, casual manner. He treated him as if he were part of his family, expecting him to pull his weight and help with the chores. They ate home-cooked meals in the kitchen, and after stabling the horses for the night, they'd fall asleep in front of the TV, shoulders barely touching.

Neither of them brought up the steamy kiss they'd shared, nor mentioned how Jethro had taken care of Tony, staying with him all night long. That night was often on Tony's mind, though. He remembered the kiss, and the immediate, intense desire it had sparked in him, but still, it was unsettling that he had made a move on a guy in the first place. After all, he was the man who had chased every skirt in high school and beyond, right up until the day he asked Wendy to marry him..

Tony had never considered starting a relationship with a man, and he couldn't even think about having sex with one, not even if that man was Jethro Gibbs. Not that there was anything wrong with playing on that side of the fence, if you were so inclined. Jethro was definitely attractive in a protective, gruff, take-charge kind of way, and he had already proven to be a damned good kisser.

Yet it hadn't been Jethro who had instigated that kiss, and even now, Tony didn't have a clue what had prompted him to grab Jethro had get hot and heavy with him. Was he bisexual, in denial? Tony shook himself, trying to stop thinking about the whole thing. It was driving him crazy. Things were fine as they were, Tony told himself. It was good, them being friends with benefits of a different kind. He didn't want anything more than friendship. This was all he could handle right now.

Tony still had bad dreams about the kidnapping, some of them pretty bad, and all of them featured Beals coming after him like a crazy killer out of a slasher movie. That these dreams also starred Jethro Gibbs was not surprising, as he played the part of Tony's rescuer. The problem was, Jethro did not always get to him in time. All too often, Tony would get shot or stabbed, or Beals would wrap his hands around his neck and choke him to death, and he'd wake up with a start, in a cold sweat, clutching at this throat and gasping for air.

Tony would totter down the hall to the bathroom in bare feet, trying not to wake Jethro. He was always a little surprised when he looked at his reflection and found that there were no bruises on his neck. He'd feel the pain though, and the dreams would feel real, making it difficult to get back to sleep. A couple of times he'd come out of the bathroom to find Jethro waiting in the hall. He'd remain at a distance, and wouldn't say anything, though even in the dim light Tony could see the question in his eyes, the 'are you all right?' Tony would conjure up a weak smile and mumble he was good, and even though he'd turn his back on Jethro and head to his room, Tony found comfort knowing the man was looking out for him.

The dreams occurred less frequently over time, and became a bit less intense. Tony never stopped long enough to seek out counseling, and he managed to brush the subject aside on the few occasions he had to see Dr. Pitt for a checkup. Tony had had his fill of shrinks when he was a troublesome teen, as well as enduring a few psych evals during his time as a cop. He wasn't about to let any mental health professional root around in his brain, certainly not deep enough to understand the real Tony DiNozzo, so why waste everybody's time? Besides, he was fine.

Jethro never pressured Tony to get closer, and he seemed to have no expectation beyond companionship. Tony wasn't sure if Jethro was bisexual or perhaps merely curious, because he had definitely returned Tony's drunken kisses with fervor that suggested he wasn't exactly straight. It was impossible to tell from his demeanor. Being in the military and then at NCIS for so many years, it was likely that Jethro had become expert at concealing a preference for men – if he even had such a preference. But Tony's senses told him that, even if Jethro might be interested in men – or perhaps just in Tony – he had never acted upon such an inclination. And if Tony occasionally saw something in Jethro's expression that looked like interest, as soon as Tony met his eyes, it would change into something far more neutral.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

On a bright, sunny day in June, Tony picked up Zack and took him to Kelly Brook Farm to meet Jethro. Tony had discussed it with Wendy beforehand, as he always did before he took Zack anywhere. Her primary concern had been about Zack's safety, but Tony had been able to assure her that you couldn't get any safer than being with Jethro Gibbs.

However, on the drive over, Tony got himself all worked up, picturing one of the horses stepping on Zack's toes, or imagining that his son might "get trampled in a freak stampede, or maybe even fall out of the hayloft and get impaled on a pitchfork…or something," as he revealed to his son. There was also the concern that Zack and Jethro might not get along. Jethro would seem somewhat imposing to a ten-year-old kid. Zack was generally easygoing, but he sometimes took an immediate and enduring dislike to certain adults. They'll hate each other, Tony thought desperately.

"Dad, cut it out."

"Cut what out? I'm not doing anything."

Zack rolled his eyes. "You're over-thinking things."

"Are you feeling okay? You look a little flushed. Do you have a fever?" Tony reached over and tried to test his son's temperature with a hand to the back of his cheek.

Zack warded him off. "Keep your eyes on the road, Dad! Sheesh!"

"Maybe we should go home," Tony suggested, preparing to pull over and do a U-ey.

"Oh my God, you are being such a freakazoid. I'm fine. I don't have a fever. I want to go to the farm and meet Mr. Gibbs, without any drama," Zack said, being the voice of reason. He looked sideways at his father. "How did you even become a cop, Dad, if you're so afraid of everything?"

Tony raised his chin. "I'm not afraid of everything. I'm only afraid of everything that might come along and hurt you," he said, as if that were the most reasonable thing in the world.

Zack relented, saying in a calming tone, "Take my advice, Dad, and let it all go."

"I can't," Tony replied, thinking of all that was at stake here.

Tony needn't have worried. Jethro was very patient with Zack, slowly introducing the boy to the big animals. He let him ride Nacho, while making sure he was safe at all times. Zack nodded earnestly at all of Jethro's instructions, and by the end of the day, he was at ease with the horses, and followed Jethro around like a puppy.

But boys will be boys, and before the weekend was over, Zack fell out of a tree and mashed his elbow, and Jethro had to practice first aide on him with Tony hovering and practically in tears. Zack and Jethro exchanged glances, and rolled eyes, and ended up having a group hug in order to pacify Tony. At one point, Zack got himself accidentally locked in the 3rd floor attic and was there for an hour before anyone discovered he was even missing. Jethro conducted a methodical search (while Tony was on the line with the police to issue an Amber Alert), and it was Jethro who heard Zack banging, and let him out. When they weren't looking, Tony's son brought a boxful of baby chicks and one angry mother hen into the house to play with. After all the fowl were rounded up, and returned safely to the henhouse, everyone helped clean up the resulting chicken shit.

After they ate dinner, Jethro sat Zack down and, with Tony looking on, proceeded to tell him the rules.

"There are rules?" asked Zack, pulling a face.

Jethro nodded. "There are rules for people to live by, and some for horses, too."

"Horses have rules?" The little boy thought that was funny; so did Tony.

"Sure they do. Rule number one: making a racket doesn't make things happen any faster," said Jethro. "Number two is don't poop in your water bucket." Zack threw his head back in laughter and Jethro said, "Seriously. BigBoy does it all the time."

Tony chimed in, speaking from experience, "How about: don't pee in the fresh bedding the minute I finish cleaning your stall. And don't pull your hay out of the hay rack and toss it all over the place like it's a game." That had Zack in stitches.

"Now, this rule is for us people, and it's important," Jethro said directly to Zack. "Don't leave any door or gate open, because an open door is an invitation for the horse to bolt."

"D'you have to chase them if they get out?" Zack asked, his eyes wide.

"Yes, you sure do!" Tony said loudly, making both Jethro and Zack turn their heads to stare at him. "Take it from me, it isn't easy running down a horse that's just discovered freedom, and doesn't want to come back anytime soon."

Jethro said, "I saw you running all over the place the other morning. Thought you were doing some fancy fitness program."

Tony sent him a sour look. It had taken him an hour to get three of the escapees back in their stalls, and he'd been seriously out of breath by the time he was finished.

"I thought you liked jogging, Dad," Zack said, grinning.

"Smart-aleck," Tony retorted.

"Have you learned to shut the barn door now?" Jethro asked Tony.

Sheepishly, Tony replied, "Yes, I have, Teacher."

"But the most important thing for us to remember," Jethro said, meeting Tony's eyes, "is that these animals rely upon us to take care of them. If you're gentle, and show them love, they'll be your best friend. They'll love you right back." He turned his eyes towards Zack. "Think you can do that? It's a big responsibility."

Zack nodded solemnly.

Tony smiled, seeing his son alongside Jethro, knowing that he was in good hands.

Jethro finished up by saying, "Okay then. How'd you feel about helping me and your dad feed the animals, and then we'll heat up the fire pit out back and get some cowboy steaks on the grill. I've got some baked beans."

"Are we going to have a farting contest?" Zack asked excitedly, looking expectantly at his dad.

Jethro sent a questioning look to Tony, who stifled a laugh. "Uh, movie reference. I'll explain it later."

Zack walked next to Jethro as they made their way to the barn, looking up at him. "Can you tell me the people rules?"

Jethro scratched his chin and said, "Let's see…number one is: never let suspects stay together. There are a lot of them. They're all numbered."

Zack pulled a face. "Do we have to memorize these?"

"No. You just learn them as you go along."

"What's number two?" asked Tony, teasing.

Jethro said, without missing a beat, "No movie references to movies I haven't seen."

"Okay. Out of curiosity, how many movies do you think you've seen in your lifetime, Jethro?"

"Other than crime scene videos? Two."

"Only two?" both Tony and Zack asked at the same time.

Jethro nodded. "Yup. She Wore a Yellow Ribbon and Shane. When we're done here, DiNozzo, you get the grill going. Little DiNozzo, you rustle up some potato chips and drinks."

Zack tugged on his father's hand and said in a loud whisper, "Dad, I think we've got our work cut out for us."

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

All through the summer, Jethro and Tony did guy stuff together whenever they had free time. 'Doing guy stuff' – that was their official description of the activities they took part in, if anyone asked. They attended a polo match at the Fairmeadows Polo Club near Leesburg, took in a couple of Oriole's games, toured a historic ship, and served pancakes at the Veterans' Center every other Sunday morning.

Senior arranged to go with Zack and Tony to a re-enactment at the Antietam National Battlefield, but he phoned at the last minute to postpone.

"You're canceling?" Tony asked, fuming.

"Postponing."

"It's called canceling, Dad."

"Postponing. I intend to take my grandson to a re-enactment later on."

Tony hung up on him.

"What's so important he cancelled?" Jethro inquired, not looking at all pleased.

"He's flying to the Caymans on business," Tony replied unhappily.

"So what's stopping the three of us from going?"

Tony asked, "You sure you want to go? I don't want to make you…"

"You think I ever do anything I don't want to?" Jethro demanded.

"Guess not." Tony smiled. "This is going to be fun."

Tony ended up revealing to Zack that he had been the bucket carrier at the Civil War re-enactments Senior had taken him to as a child.

"Did Grandpa carry a bucket, too?" asked Zack.

"Er, no. He was a general, and they don't carry buckets," Tony replied, elbowing Jethro in the ribs when he laughed at him.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

Tony helped around the farm on his free days. He wasn't a great carpenter, and he really didn't like shoveling horse shit, but if Jethro asked him to do something, he couldn't refuse. Jethro wasn't shy about giving Tony jobs he thought he could handle, but mostly Tony helped with repairs and general upkeep, and held the tools while Jethro did the skilled work.

The day usually ended with a hearty meal of steaks and potatoes, or an Italian dish Tony either made or bought. After they'd cleaned up, they enjoyed a movie on the big screen TV that Tony had set up in the living room without asking permission, "because you cannot watch Will Smith battle aliens on a 15" screen, Jethro."

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

Part of the rescue horses' regimen was to get a lot of hands-on time, and it required more hours more than Jethro could give them. Upkeep of the farm buildings and paperwork associated with the rescue never ended. A few of Jethro's friends – mostly people he'd worked with, now retired – came by to help with the horses. There were volunteers, too, like the students in a class that Moira was leading, called Women and Horses. They'd walk the horses on long leads, do simple ground exercises, and groom the horses so they would get used to being handled. Every bit of support from these good people was welcome, as far as Jethro was concerned.

Jimmy Palmer came to do worming and gave free veterinary services. Tony liked his sense of humor and willingness to gossip. In return, Jimmy showed Tony how to clean the horses' hooves, even if it scared Tony a bit to be handling such a large animal.

Dr. Mallard – Ducky – turned up by late at night sometimes, saying he was passing by, or claiming he was a night owl. He would ramble for ages – Tony loved hearing the older man's stories – but at some point the doctor would disappear into another room with Jethro. When they'd emerge, Ducky would politely say goodnight, and as soon as the door closed behind him, Jethro would mutter under his breath about interfering old doctors looking for trouble. He'd then go and bang in some nails or do something to vent his frustration.

One rainy Sunday, Tim McGee came by and spent a couple of hours working with Jethro on his finances. Afterwards, Tim stayed to watch a ballgame on TV with them, and Tony wheedled some stories of 'the good old Gibbs days' out of him, when Tim was a probie and scared of messing up and Gibbs was a team leader not to be messed with. It was obvious that Tim held his former team boss in great esteem, and would talk about his recent cases with him for hours on end.

"Do you miss them? Or the job?" Tony asked Jethro, the next day while they leaned over the fence and watched the horses peacefully grazing.

"Sure, I miss some of the people. I liked doing interrogations. Felt a sense of accomplishment when I cracked a suspect, knowing I was doing good. We had our share of bad days though," Jethro said vaguely. He scratched Chevron's cheek when he came over for attention, and said in a quiet voice, "I have dreams about cases. The people in them…they get mixed up. I'm running after a perp and there's Kate and Ziva by my side."

"Kate?" Tony was dying to hear more, but Jethro shook his head and wouldn't talk any further.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~