Following Gibbs' taillights across the city Tony's entire focus was on trying to keep up and not actually die or subject anyone else to a fatal pileup. So, when the car ahead took a sharp right turn and finally came to a halt his first sentient thought was one of relief. He had exited the car, pulling his holdall out of the trunk, and was walking across the driveway before he looked up. With a jolt of shock he came to a sudden halt at the sight of the neat, two story house with a well tended yard. He sucked in a breath as oxygen suddenly seemed to be a sparse commodity. He hadn't even spared a thought for where Gibbs might be living these days. If he had he supposed he might had expected some kind of serviced apartment, practical, functional, but inherently soulless. Certainly not the large yard to mow, the well stocked flower beds, the freshly painted woodwork, that made up the lovingly cared for family home he was looking at.

"Hey!" Gibbs was suddenly beside him. "You going to stand there all night?"

"Boss," Tony swallowed hard, knowledge and empathy making the words hard to find. "Maybe, this isn't such a good idea."

Gibbs' eyes narrowed, before his face froze, his sudden realisation of what Tony knew, had found out, turning his expression to one of dark, hard, fury. Tony, realising that he had unwittingly crossed an unacceptable line, took a physical step back, his brain working rapidly as he tried to think of a way to make this right.

"Look, its okay," He assured rapidly. "I don't have to stay. I'll just go check into another Hotel, one with hot water and stuff."

He had turned away and had almost made it to the car when an angry shout echoed in his ears.

"Hey!"

Feeling an unwelcome prickle of dread as his skin broke into a cold sweat he forced himself to keep walking, actually putting his hand on the car door handle when, a firm grip closed around his arm, forcibly turning him around and pressing him back against the vehicle, to look into blazing blue eyes. With his back protesting the violent contact with the hard, metal surface, and his body helpless to escape the furious grip of the combat trained marine, Tony instinctively flinched back, closing his eyes as he tensed himself against remembered blows.

And time stood still.

"Hey."

The unexpectedly soft tone was matched by the feeling of firm fingers, cupping his jaw with impossible gentleness, one calloused thumb, stroking a soothing line across his jaw, like he was some kind of skittish colt. Cautiously opening his eyes, Tony blinked to see Gibbs looking at him, with open concern. Realising that some sort of response was in order, Tony tried to ignore the embarrassment that was spreading across his pale face to burn the tips of his ears, as he stood all too obviously vulnerable to the ex-marine's searching gaze.

"I'm good, Boss," Tony dropped his eyes awkwardly. "Look, I'll just get out of your hair."

"The hell you will," Gibbs was resolute. He didn't know what worried him more, the way the usually exuberant and overly confidently young man had flinched back from his anger with wild eyes, or the way he couldn't accept the least touch of compassion. "I take care of my own, DiNozzo and you are one of mine now whether you like it or not."

"You don't have to," Tony still wouldn't meet his eyes. "I can take care of myself. I've been doing it since I was twelve."

Gibbs bit the inside of his cheek. Part of him itched to slap some sense into the younger man. But the father in him couldn't help but recognise the telltale signs of emotional neglect and physical abuse, indicating that something more was required. Releasing his grip and taking half a step back to try and return control to his Agent he tried to put everything he was feeling into a few words.

"I want you to stay," He took a breath. "Please."

He didn't miss the way the younger man's head came up sharply even as his eyes widened in honest amazement. DiNozzo had worked with him long enough to know that pleading was not in his nature. His unaccustomed use of the 'p' word was the greatest testimony to his sincerity that he could think of.

"Gibbs." Tony managed hoarsely.

"C'mon," Attempting to ease the awkwardness between them Gibbs reverted to type and took refuge in action. Striding back to his own car he lifted one of Tony's boxes out of his trunk, before crossing the front yard and opening his front door with a sharp kick

"You leave your door unlocked?" Tony, following hesitantly in his wake, clutching his holdall like a talisman, couldn't hide his surprise.

"Don't have much worth stealing," Gibbs shrugged, as he set the box down, turning to look at DiNozzo. In the bright artificial light of the hallway, he looked overly pale and tired, dark circles under his eyes. "Bathroom's upstairs on the left. Take a bath, not a shower, hot as you can stand, it'll help the bruises. Towels are in the hamper. Food will be ready in half an hour. Spare room is second on the right. Make yourself at home."

"You want me to help you bring those in first ..?" Tony nodded at the single box, only to be brought up short by the look of fond exasperation on Gibbs face. Feeling the unaccustomed affection more keenly than the anger he swallowed a wave of emotion as he quickly backtracked. "You've probably got that covered. I'll go take a bath."

"You do that," Gibbs kept his grin in check until DiNozzo was almost at the top of the stairs. "And don't drop your wet towels on the bathroom floor."

His grin got a little wider as DiNozzo flipped him off, feeling both relieved and a little concerned to see that the younger man could recover so quickly. Turning away he went into the kitchen, chopping and dicing meat and vegetables for a casserole popping it back in the oven for twenty minutes. Putting a pan of water on to boil he cubed a couple of potatoes and tossed them into the now boiling water to soften, before checking his watch.

Just enough time to make a quick call.

Feeling decidedly awkward about the unexpected direction that his day had taken Tony took refuge in following orders. He was pleased to find that the bathroom was both surprisingly spacious and, less surprisingly, scrupulously clean. It was well stocked, with thick, fluffy towels and a range of toiletries. As Tony let the plentiful hot water fill the deep tub, he picked up one or two of the bottles. Somehow, he couldn't see Gibbs choosing such floral scents.

"Must have been the ex-wife." He decided.

Abby had told him that Gibbs was presently going through his third divorce. Apparently, the marriage hadn't lasted all that long, had ended badly and she was the one who had left him. Tony made a mental note not to bring up her name. The lack of other personal items, even in the bathroom cabinet, suggested that there was a second bathroom off the master bedroom where Gibbs kept his 'Life Buoy' soap and other necessities of Marine cleanliness.

The big tub was long enough for him to stretch out and the hot water felt blissful on his bruised and battered body. He lay there until the water began to cool and the delicious smells drifting upstairs from the kitchen caused his stomach to remind him that Gibbs had whisked him away before he could finish his dinner of pizza and pain pills. Patting himself dry, he dressed in jeans worn to a battered softness and an old Ohio State sweatshirt, making a point of leaving things neat and putting his wet towels in the hamper, too preoccupied to notice the smears of blood on the white fabric.

Downstairs in the kitchen Gibbs was just adding a layer of mashed potato to the top of a casserole which he then put back into the oven to brown. Leaning against the door jamb, Tony couldn't help but feel a pang of wistfulness. He didn't think his own father even knew how to turn a stove on and he had certainly never cooked for his family. Even their bar-b-ques had been professionally catered. People always said that you couldn't miss what you had never had. Tony thought that was a load of phooey.

"Beer's in the fridge." Gibbs offered, without turning.

"Um," Tony hesitated. "Do you have any soda?"

Gibbs turned around, the question he had planned dying on his lips, as he looked DiNozzo over. Barefoot and with his dark hair only towel dried and falling softly around his face, he looked more like the College kid he pretended to be than the seasoned and sharp minded cop Gibbs knew that he was. The well worn Ohio State sweatshirt and jeans only added to the illusion. Gibbs wondered if that was why DiNozzo insisted on wearing those cheap, shiny, suits and that ridiculous hair gel to work, so that he could look older. Gibbs had his own memories of how hard it had been to get seasoned veterans to listen to him, when he'd looked like he was barely old enough to shave, even when he was right, scratch that, especially, when he was right.

"There's some orange juice." He offered now.

"Thanks," Tony flashed him a grateful smile, as he opened the refrigerator pleased to find that it was the genuine article not the concentrated stuff. As he poured a glass, he could feel Gibbs watching him and realised that some kind of explanation was in order. The man had already had to listen to enough tales of his college keg parties and how many beers he could bong to realise that his avoidance of alcohol was a little unusual. "Um, I took a couple of pills earlier."

"Uh huh," Gibbs figured that was probably true. The kid's slow, careful, movements, were evidence enough he was feeling pretty tired and sore. Not to mention, the last few days must have taken a lot out of hi. All things considered Gibbs could hardly blame him for worrying that his emotions were a little too close to the surface right now to risk taking a drink. He would probably have felt the same way in DiNozzo's position. "Maybe, I can help that along some."

"Oh?" Tony watched as Gibbs rummaged around in the cabinet over the sink and came up with a glass bottle containing an unappetising substance. |He eyed it warily. "You're not going to make me drink that are you?"

"Only if I plan on spending the rest of the night in the ER while you have your stomach pumped," Gibbs allowed, as he pulled out a chair and turned it around so Tony could straddle it. "Sit down, and loose the sweatshirt."

"You know, there are laws about sexual harassment in the workplace."

"God forbid you were ever my type, DiNozzo." Gibbs snorted his amusement.

Looking up, the grin died on his face as he took in the pinched, tight, expression on Tony's face as he stood rooted to the spot. A few days ago, DiNozzo had looked down the barrel of his own gun without a flicker of fear. Now the prospect of a little human kindness had him white with terror. Gibbs had to look away, in case DiNozzo though the fury blazing in his eyes was directed at him, taking a moment to collect himself before he could be sure that his tone held nothing but gentle encouragement.

"I've used it myself a time or two. It helps."

"Gibbs," Tony appreciated what his Boss was trying to do but, he felt totally mortified at the prospect of the hard ass, ex-marine tending to his injuries. Not only was the prospect humiliating but he was terrified that he might embarrass himself again. "Really, it's not necessary. The bath helped a whole lot. I already feel much better."

"Tony, I saw those welts that kind of thing doesn't go away in a day or two," Gibbs pressed his lips together. "Believe me, I know."

"You do?" The look on DiNozzo's face softened into a kind of understanding as he recognised what Gibbs was trying to tell him. "Desert storm?"

"Yeah," Gibbs nodded sharply, as he was briefly assaulted with memories of those days of heat, pain and humiliation at the hands of his captors. "Whole damn operation went to hell in a hand basket."

Nodding his acceptance of that, Tony rewarded his honesty with a show of trust of his own, moving forward to straddle the chair before carefully drawing the sweatshirt over his head to bare his back. Only to tense up as Gibbs carefully fingers set to work.

"Tony," Gibbs sighed. He tried to keep the hurt out of his voice. After all these years of living up to his second "B" it should have been easy, but DiNozzo had a way of getting under his skin. "You want me to call, Ducky?"

Judging by the odd look Tony gave him, he had been less than successful at hiding his feelings. Even so, the almost shy smile was something of a surprise as the younger man visibly forced himself to relax. "Just don't think too badly of me when I squeal like a little girl." He half-joked over his shoulder.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs spoke, not unkindly, he returned to his ministrations. "Shut up."