A viscous droplet of blood hung precariously from Tony's nose for a moment, before it slowly gave way to gravity and fell with an oddly slow gate to splash daintily upon the dusty floor. Looking down at the shining drop of his own bodily fluids was oddly transfixing. But that transfixion was marred by an angry voice, seemingly far away such was the odd daze he was encased in. "Are you hearing me? I said get the hell out of my house. You got two seconds, before I throw you out."

Looking up slowly in response to the voice that seemed muted, a million miles away, Tony shook his head slowly. The daze was slowly slipping from him, as a sense of purpose was filling him, consuming him. He had given over a decade of his life to this man, to his team, to his crusades. He had followed him to the ends of the earth without batting an eye, he had sacrificed element upon element within his personal life. As a result, he was now on the wrong side of forty with only a shell of an apartment to his name. No wife, no girlfriend. No kid, not even a dog.

Nothing.

The least he was owed, the very least to which he was entitled to, was answers.

"I asked you," Tony said slowly, swiping the trickle of blood from his eye with a deliberate hand, "Why it came to this?" He walked slowly towards the elder of the two, who didn't take an equal step back. "When you came back after the shooting…you'd changed. To be expected, right? But…then it became pretty damn clear you were only changed when it came to me. I stepped up, Gibbs; I took over like you trained me to. You were our man down and I made sure the team kept going, and then you come back. I stepped aside. Just like after Mexico. No questions, no problems. I did a good job in leading, I know that. I know it deep in my gut. So…I'll ask you again. Why has it come to this?"

He spat blood onto the floor, clearing his windpipe.

"Because I'm telling you here and now Gibbs, I'm not leaving without answers. I gave you everything. I gave you everything for thirteen years. You owe me. I've never asked you for a thing, never did anything other than try to be like you, work like you. I did that for thirteen years, but now…now I'm done, Gibbs, I'm done. No more loyal St Bernard." He laughed quietly, wiping away at another persistent trickle of blood. "The old dog's been put down. That's not me anymore. You changed, I changed." He paused only to move another step closer and to swipe a hand across his stubbornly seeping brow.

"But I still want that answer, Gibbs. I don't care how long it takes, I want that explanation."

With a still heaving chest and clenched fists, the older of the two had to fight hard to keep his hands to himself. He felt the blood drying into his face, and felt a savage urge to draw a fresh supply from his former right hand. The familiar rage that surged, spawned and coursed through him every time he laid eyes on Tony danced within him, taunting him. He was weary from it, but consumed by it, and knowledgeable enough of it to know certain things.

The main such thing being that if the newly appointed fed didn't leave, he would strangle him.

"You think I give a shit about what you want, DiNozzo? You think I lay awake at night wondering about your likes, and dislikes, your little hopes and your whiney dreams?" He shot a scathing look at the man. "You're still the same screw up from Baltimore aren't you?" Taking a step back, he took in Tony's subtly expensive clothing and let out a humourless laugh. "Still the confused little rich boy, trying to make it on his own, but desperately needing a father figure."

His second laugh was downright bone chilling. The eerie chuckle, combined with the most damaging and scornful of words tore through Tony like a two tonne truck. It was only his sheer shock that protected him from feeling the words with an acuity that would show on his face. His complexion paled, but he remained impressively expressionless in the wake of the unprecedented vitriol.

"Well, guess what DiNozzo? I'm tired of wiping your ass. I'm tired of stepping in for your waste of space father, though…to be fair, I gotta say, the man was dealt a harsh hand with you. So, no…I don't give a shit about what you want. And you sure as shit ain't gonna come into my house and start throwing around your prepubescent demands like I owe you a damned thing. How's that for an explanation?" He pointed to the staircase yet again. "Now, get yourself and your pathetic questions and get the hell out of my house. And you can forget about the three weeks' notice. I don't need a four year old with abandonment issues on my team for another fucking second."

With that, he turned his back yet again on a stunned Tony, breathing heavily over his sanding bench. The younger man was reeling in his wake. For all the physical blows that had been traded in the once sanctuary like basement, the words that had just come out of his former boss' mouth were by far the most deadly. Opening his mouth, he found it caked in a dryness that seemed to almost suffocate him. He had trusted this man, told him things over the years that no one else in the earthly realm knew. He had turned to him in his darkest hours, and this…after all that time, was the man's true opinion of him.

An inconvenience.

Something to be pitied in the interim, but eventually to be outgrown.

Before he could really process the words that had been hurled at him like the most poisonous of venoms, a primal anger triggered in the deepest corners of his gut. A protective instinct. The desire to wound has he had been wounded, to retaliate, to strike back. To break free of the decade long habit of holding his tongue, to lash out. To expel some of the pain that was circulating through his entire being with a rover flow force. His voice was unrecognisable to him, velvety, and dripping with scorn.

"Does that mean you're done pretending Abby is actually Kelly, then?"

The sanding paper fell to the floor with an almost dismal flutter. Turning around with a slowness that mirrored that of the most deadly predators, Gibbs pivoted to face his protégée once more. He saw the rage, the rage for him, in those eyes and found himself oddly, and savagely cheered. "What did you just say?" he asked with a coldness that once upon a time would have had Tony shaking where he stood. "What did you just say to me?"

Instead of shaking where he stood, Tony raised a deliberately taunting and unaffected brow.

"I asked, given that you're done at playing the father figure role and all, if you're done with pretending that your precious Abigail Sciuto is some weird, long lost version of Kelly Gibbs? Because…I gotta say, it's unlikely any daughter raised by a delight like you would ever stick around long enough to know you when you're old in the tooth and rotting away your liver in your hellhole of a basement every night." He paused to offer a similar emotionless laugh that Gibbs had produced. "Do you think that's why Ziva really left? She was tired of being your backup Kelly? The one who wasn't quite Abby, but would do if push came to shove? I wonder how long Tim will stick around?"

He chuckled another dark chuckle.

"Guess everyone leaves you in the end, don't they?"

A red mist was descending over Gibbs' eyes as he took a step closer to his antagonist, so that they were chest to chest. Placing a deliberate finger on the most vulnerable part of Tony's windpipe, he pressed down hard. "Don't you ever," he said slowly, deeply and enunciating every last syllable, "Mention my daughter, ever again. I ever hear your worthless mouth saying her name again, and I'll rip your goddamned throat out. Leave. Leave now, and don't let me see your face around anywhere, at any time. Not at the Navy Yard and definitely not within a hundred meters of my house."

Removing his finger, he used it to once again point at the exit.

"Leave now, while you can still walk. And keep walking, because you and I? We're done."

Tony stared straight ahead and shook his head. "You're pathetic, you know that? Ex wives coming out of the seams of this place, a bottle of bourbon to keep you warm at night and you're telling me you have the luxury of throwing people who would have died for you, out in the trash?" He took a step back and found all emotion draining from him like a deranged sand timer. "You're right, Gibbs, you don't owe me an explanation, and really…I guess I don't want one. I guess…you've got the picture down…we are done."

He smiled tightly, more to himself than anything, before looking his long term, turned former boss in the eye.

"But I think we've been done for a long time."

He took another step back and another step closer to the stairs, before looking back at a silently watching Gibbs with something indecipherable in his eyes.

"The saddest thing is that you're going to die alone, Gibbs. And it didn't have to be that way. You made it that way. You might think I'm worthless, but I would have done anything for you. Tim would have too, but you'll start on him when I'm out of the picture, won't you? He'll be the new me, the new whipping boy. But the problem with that is, Abby's got a soft spot for McGee like she doesn't have for anyone else. They might not be together, but those two will always have something deep."

He looked at Gibbs with that…look, once more and shook his head.

"He'll go, she'll go…and you'll be alone. Bishop might stick around for a while, but you'll find some way to push her away until it's just you. Just you, that bottle, another boat and a long wait until death. You're a self fulfilling prophecy Gibbs. And it's tragic. But what I've realised tonight is that it's not my problem anymore. I'm not going to wind up like you. I'm going to get out from under you, and your shadow and not feel a second's guilt for it. So, you're right. An explanation as to why you came back with a hatred for me and me alone isn't going to change things."

He took another step towards the stairs, placing a hand on the ancient rail.

"Because even if you were man enough to tell me why, even if you had the balls to say you were wrong or that you were sorry, it would never be enough. In a sort of sick way…you showing me how worthless you think I am has shown me how much worth I actually have. I don't have to live and die as your sidekick, because I'm better than that. I ran your team and I ran it well. I can do the things you do, and I can do it without treating people like shit."

He placed one foot on the creaking bottom step and took in a deep breath.

"I won't say it's been a pleasure, Agent Gibbs, but it has been an education. You probably won't believe this, but that job over in Vice? It's as team lead. My own team. Like the one I turned down all those years ago when Jenny offered me the Rota gig. The one I turned down to make sure you were well, to make sure you were healthy. I don't regret that decision. Because it let me stay on your team longer, which, like I said…was an education."

He climbed another three steps, so that he was looking down upon the man he had once looked up to.

"An education in the right and wrong way to do things. An education in the right and wrong way to treat your colleagues, your friends, your family…" He climbed another step. "You taught me all the wrong ways Gibbs, but it let me see all the right ways." Shrugging, he advanced up the staircase until he stood outside the door, looking down at Gibbs, who stared straight back with a twitching jaw.

Pulling open the door, sending light streaming into the basement, he looked around the room that had become so familiar over the last thirteen years. Everything was the same in a way that seemed to mock the seismic shift that had occurred within its confines. Looking at the spot where Gibbs had once taught him how to make hand crafted toys for hospitalised children at Christmas, Tony realised the enormity of the full circle they had travelled. As he stepped through the door, he glanced down at his former boss, mentor and friend and found words failed him, because his eyes were rooted to a realisation as he closed the door with a gentle snap, obscuring both man and spot from view.

For both man and spot were now thoroughly dampened with a congealing mixture of both their blood.

…

TBC

A/N: Ok, as usual, I don't think I can wrap this story up in as many chapters as I'd envisaged. Probably be a bit longer! There's something oddly fascinating about writing a completely different approach to the Tony/Gibbs relationship that I'm used to. Guess there's a long and winding road ahead for our two faves! Another gentle reminder, this is not going to stay angsty forever, there's an ending in mind. I'm pretty nervous about this fic because, like I said, it's far from my usual take, so please let me know what you think and if you want to see it progress into a longer fic?

(Just wanna grab this opportunity to say thanks to "Fan," who is a great support through guest reviews. I can't message you, so thanks! I really appreciate your taking the time to leave feedback and I'm glad you're enjoying my stories!)

_Inks

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