Ducky hadn't really asked, but it had been a question all the same, and he supposed the answer would have to be… yes. Did having Tony here, with him, now, make him think about Kelly? This had been Kelly's old room, although most of her things had long ago been given away. For so many years it had been a guest room, which in itself was ironic because Gibbs never had guests. Oh, he supposed he'd had some guests over the years - various in-laws and old friends of ex-wives. Even Tony had stayed over a couple of times before the accident when the heat went out in his old apartment building. Now Tony was a permanent guest, and the room was his, and it was beginning to take on his personality. This Tony liked comic books and cartoons, super heroes and Matchbox cars. There were Legos and board games and puzzles; books and DVDs lined the shelves. Stuffed animals filled a basket at the end of the bed. Really quite an accumulation of stuff in only four weeks, but his "family" tended to spoil him. Tim brought the comic books, Ziva the cars. Ducky supplied him with Lego sets, and Abby was a sucker for anything stuffed. She'd even given him Bert, the farting hippo. Tony slept with him.

And although there wasn't anything in that room now but Tony, the name on the boat in the basement had caused him to question. A few weeks ago, as Gibbs was sanding, Tony ran his fingers over the letters on the stern, making out each one, piecing them together and sounding out Kelly's name. When he asked, Gibbs couldn't lie to him, and so he'd told him the truth - simple truth that Tony could understand. Kelly and Shannon were with the angels like his parents were, and they were looking down on him, and keeping him safe. It was a truth that Gibbs liked to believe, and he shared it now with Tony.

Tony liked the stories about Kelly when she was a little girl. And Gibbs found that it didn't hurt so much to share those stories with him. It was better than remembering them alone.

Tonight, he made it a short story - not even a story really - just bits and pieces of a memory: Kelly and Maddie burying that time capsule in the backyard. Tony stayed awake long enough to murmur, "Super coolo," and then his eyes closed. In the faint light from the hall, Gibbs could see him relax into sleep, one hand on his knee, the other holding onto Bert.

He still couldn't watch him sleep without remembering the two weeks that he'd lain in a coma, only then he'd been hooked up to so many wires and tubes and monitors - the only things that let them know that he was still alive. He was so still, for so long, and Gibbs was afraid that he'd never wake up. Ducky reminded them all that coma patients had been known to hear the voices of those around them. So they talked to him. All of them. Every day. Almost a never-ending commentary. They came in shifts - he was never alone. Abby and Ducky had no difficulty at all keeping up running monologues. Ducky regaled him with classic tales of knights in shining armor, and Abby created fantasies filled with talking animals. Ziva summarized Tony's favorite movies and turned them into stories - adventure, mystery, romance, action. Even Jimmy came and recapped sporting events.

But it wasn't as easy for Tim and Gibbs. Oh, they came, probably more than all the rest, but they didn't have stories to tell Tony, at least, not at first. First they had to find some sort of peace with what had happened.

Tim was consumed with guilt. He'd walked away from the car, been able to call 911, and then all he could do was sit on the ground next to the crushed driver's side, talking to Tony, trying to keep him awake, watching his eyes slip closed - willing him to keep breathing. It wasn't his fault - Gibbs told him that - told him once with words and reminded him of it every day with a hard gaze. And Tim finally accepted it as the truth it was. Soon, he was reading comic books to Tony, even supplying the sound effects.

It was Ducky who gave the speech to Gibbs who was dealing with "my agents - my responsibility - my fault." But self-blame would do Tony very little good. "Terribly non-productive, Jethro," Ducky reasoned. "Surely there are better ways to spend your time with Anthony." And he was right, as usual. Gibbs pushed aside his own guilt, and he talked to Tony. Not a lot, at first - man of few words that he was he needed a little coaching. Ducky would sit with them, remind Gibbs of the many cases where Tony had proved himself. And Gibbs found himself saying the words that he rarely said - more than "good jobs" and "atta boys"- words like "you're a fine agent" and "I'm proud of you."

Words like… "I love you, Tony," Gibbs whispered, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Tony sighed in his sleep and pulled the hippo closer, soft grey ears brushing over his cheek. He said the hippo kept him safe when Boss wasn't there, and Gibbs smiled at the stuffed protector. "Semper fi, Bert. Semper fi."

~vVv~