Author's Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I want to thank eScapefreak for giving me the idea about new rules. It will be interesting to see which rules Tony and Gibbs create!

At first, it had been difficult going to work and focusing on the case at hand. For all of them, not thinking of Tony was almost insurmountable – he'd always been such a presence, and now that presence was so noticeably missing. It had gotten a little easier the past few weeks – necessity forced them to work through it – but still, Gibbs saw: the glances toward his desk, the hesitation whenever they geared up to leave, the uncomfortable silence in the elevator, the feeling that they'd left someone behind.

And they had.

They all felt it.

But they never acknowledged it.

At least, not to each other.

Gibbs watched as they found their way – each person dealing with it in his or her own unique fashion: Tim had started leaving his backpack on top of Tony's desk to make it seem less empty Gibbs assumed; Ziva turned on his computer every morning and powered it down at night before she left – even Gibbs had glanced over at Tony's screensaver on occasion: a collection of old movie posters of movies he no longer remembered; Abby wandered through the bullpen more often than she used to, fingers sliding over the back of Tony's chair – and she'd started leaving little notes to him that Gibbs took home and stuck on the bulletin board in Tony's room: Have a cool day! Miss you! Lotsa love!; Jimmy, like Abby, visited more often than he ever had before, delivering messages in person instead of phoning; and Ducky started eating lunch with Gibbs – every day – something they'd occasionally done, but not on a daily basis – Gibbs suspected that Ducky wanted to make sure he was eating – but if he admitted it, which he never did, he appreciated the company.

And Gibbs – he accepted it all: the backpack, the screensaver, the notes, the messages, the home-cooked meals from Ducky.

And just the other day, he'd head slapped McGee – which had caused Tim to gasp and then flinch and then smile.

Like it or not, they were slipping into a new routine, a new normal – and they'd started to relax a bit.

So when Gibbs saw Ducky heading toward him down the back hall later in the day, he assumed it was lunch time.

"I was just on my way," he nodded toward the other end of the hall and the break room.

But Ducky shook his head. "I'm afraid our lunch will have to wait. The centre just called. Tony's had a fall and broken his arm. They've driven him to the hospital, and we'll need to go get him. " He said it so smoothly as if Tony were Humpty Dumpty and they were all the king's horses and men, riding in to pick up the pieces.

"He what?!" Gibbs' voice rose, and Tim, who'd been walking with him, instinctively took a step back. "How does someone break an arm at a rehabilitation facility? They're supposed to be fixing Tony – not breaking him." He's already broken enough. "Is he all right?"

"He'll be fine," Ducky assured, stepping closer and resting a hand on Gibbs' arm. "It's just a simple fracture. They have an obstacle course at the centre and Tony fell off the monkey bars."

Gibbs sighed. "Which one?"

Ducky looked confused. "Which monkey bar?"

This earned him an exhaustive roll of Gibbs' eyes. "No, which arm? Tell me it wasn't his right one."

Ducky nodded in understanding. "Oh, no, it was his left. So he can still work on his writing."

"Thank goodness it wasn't any worse," Tim sighed, glancing at Ducky then back to Gibbs. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No," Gibbs answered succinctly, turning back down the hall in the direction of the elevator. "Tell Ziva and Abby." He stopped, looked back over his shoulder, gave Tim a meaningful glare. "Assure them he'll be all right." He nodded toward Ducky. "We'll go get jungle boy."

Tim smiled at his retreating form. "Don't yell at them, Boss. You might frighten Tony." He glanced at Ducky again. "He'll be all right?"

"Oh, Tony will be fine. But I'm not so sure about Jethro."

"You comin', Duck?" Gibbs called back to him as he rounded the corner.

"Right behind you," he sighed and hurried to catch up.

~vVv~

The expression on Tony's face brightened as soon as he saw Gibbs. Although tears still clung to his eyelashes, he smiled, raising his arm in the air.

"I broke it!" he exclaimed, waving the cast like a flag captured in battle.

"I see that." There was no missing the bright neon green cast. "Did you pick the color?" Gibbs crossed to where Tony was sitting on the edge of the examining table, his legs swinging from the side.

"Uh-huh." He rubbed the fingers of his right hand over the cast on his left arm. "There was blue, and red, and pink, and purple, and green, and white, but I liked green, and the doctor said I could have green, and I picked it." All of this was said in one breath.

And Gibbs relaxed. This wasn't a crisis; it was a hiccup, an adventure in Tony's eyes.

"Good. Green is good." He reached out and pulled Tony's head to his shoulder, giving him a hug and ruffling the back of his hair.

"Uh-huh," Tony continued, not missing a beat. "Jenny likes green. And the…the nurse…she said my eyes were green."

Gibbs stepped back. "Well, your eyes are green, but not quite so bright…" Then the words registered. "Jenny likes green?"

"Uh-huh," Tony nodded. "She was here, and she said…she liked green."

Gibbs blinked. "Jenny was here?"

"I still am." The voice came from behind him, and Gibbs swung around to find Jenny Shepard in the doorway, Ducky behind her. "I was visiting Tony when he fell."

"Off the monkey bars," Tony added, then held his arm out. "Look, Ducky, I gotta cast."

The medical examiner stepped over to him, and Ducky took Tony's arm, carefully inspecting the fingers that stuck out of the end of the cast. "You did indeed. Does it hurt?"

Tony shrugged. "A little. But… I tried not to cry."

Gibbs, whose eyes were still on Jenny, called back to him. "Rule Eight, Tony: If it hurts, it's all right to cry."

Jenny moved closer, a puzzled expression on her face. "I thought Rule Eight was 'Never take anything for granted,'" she said softly.

Gibbs shifted his gaze to Tony, his eyes filled with love and concern. "It still is – in the old rules." He sighed and looked back at Jenny, gave an almost imperceptible shrug. "New life – new rules."

And she nodded in understanding.

Gibbs turned his attention to Tony again. "So, you were showing off for Jenny and fell?" He smiled, and Tony knew he was teasing with him.

Still, he blushed. "I was just showin' her how to do the monkey bars."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at Jenny. "And were you going to join him?"

And Jenny played along. "I was thinking about it." She pressed her lips into a thin line. "Even directors like to have a little fun now and then."

"I suppose it beats those rubber chicken dinners," he mumbled in return, then looked toward Ducky. "So, Duck, how is he?"

Ducky lowered Tony's arm and nodded. "Simple fracture. And they've done a good job with this cast. He should be fine in about six or seven weeks."

Gibbs shook his head. "It's going to curtail your firefly catching," he sighed, touching his fingers to Tony's cheek.

And Jenny smiled. It was rare to see and hear such tenderness in Gibbs. But it was there. Every time he looked at Tony.

~vVv~