This is AU, and not part of any of my other stories, though it's based on canon, specifically after "Hiatus". Regarding my "other stories" - I don't know if I'll ever finish some of them. They were started in a different time frame and different frame of mind, both in reference to the actual series, and where my head was at at the time I was working on them. Things changed terrifically since then. You might see updates, but no guarantees.

Not beta'd.

Tony hadn't minded the headslaps at first, or more accurately, he'd tolerated them with the understanding of what was behind them. They were mostly minor swats, love taps, as he'd come to think of them; course corrections to get him back on track and doing his best work.

He'd started minding them after Mexico - after Gibbs had come back full of himself, but with half his memories and common sense. They'd stopped being course corrections and suddenly become an outlet for his boss's anger and frustrations; they'd stung, and a couple of them had rattled his teeth, to the point of him giving Gibbs back a glare that had actually made the older man wince a bit. His boss had backed off from them a little, after that. But he had yet to back off on the sniping and putdowns, and the little "let's torture DiNozzo' club he'd been welcomed into by McGee and Officer David.

Nowadays he made sure he was consistently out of slapping range. He just wasn't in the mood for it. Besides avoiding the daily landmines of teammates, who seemed to be on a mission to either make him quit, or quite possibly, murder them in their sleep, he was getting headaches. Big, bold, tension headaches up the back of his neck, that sometimes made him a little tipsy, and his vision blur. He considered going to see Ducky about them, but that was another landmine he was tired of tiptoeing around. As much as he cared for and respected the elder doctor, he was tired of the rants thinly veiled in the cover of asking how the old "new" team was getting along. They invariably led to an airing of grievances at Gibbs' actions and misdeeds, and then on to days of yore, when the medical examiner had been more secret spy guy to Gibbs' black ops NIS agent. And he just couldn't suck it up anymore.

He was exhausted, mentally and physically, and consulting the good Dr. Mallard wasn't going to bring him back to good health. So he'd requested an afternoon off for a an appointment with a specialist that Brad Pitt had highly recommended. Which had led to another appointment, and yet another. And Gibbs wasn't liking it one bit, upping the ante in annoyed grizzly bear behavior.

After what Tony had found out on his third doctor's appointment, he didn't much give a shit what his boss liked or didn't like. Especially after Gibbs had found him puking in the men's room and accused him of being hungover. Tony had ignored the livid man, striding straight past him to rinse out his acrid mouth with a few handfuls of sink water, and warning him off with a low, hard growl. Gibbs' assumptions had been the final straw, and he'd left his stunned boss standing wordlessly in the bathroom, while he made a beeline to the Director's office. Or had attempted to. The physical toll of the violent retching and subsequent dry heaves, coupled with his boss's asinine behavior, had made his blood pressure spike and his head spin, literally, and by the time he'd reached the staircase, he was well and truly down for the count. His body was having no more of it, and he'd been forced to his knees, then onto his back, as every part of his body seemed to betray him.

"Ohh, fuuuddge…" he heard little Ralphie yell in the recesses of his brain.

" So close…I was so-o damned close."

Actual words mumbled out of his mouth as he felt the blood rush out of his head and his back hit the carpeted floor. He heard people's raised voices, some of them panicked, some of them more calm, calling his name, calling for Ducky, calling for an ambulance. Someone gently laid a suit jacket over him. It smelled familiar, of coffee, and Old Spice cologne, of past days. A hand was on his forehead, another was taking his pulse. It was all just on the periphery of his consciousness. His head hurt, and needed to do something about it, and now.

Hours later, he'd blearily woken up in an e.r. bed, expecting to find himself immobilized, with an assortment of miraculous medical machines beeping, hissing, clicking, monitoring every move his body made inside and out, and pouring needed fluids and prescriptions into his veins, while whisking unneeded ones away. He felt around his lower regions. No catheter. That was a pleasant surprise. But he was tethered to an i.v. pole and a blood pressure monitor, which for once in his shit-prone life, actually gave him some satisfaction. He used his untethered hand to check the back of his head. Hair still there, no stitches. Huh. Whatever. His headache was gone, so he was going back to sleep.

"Dear boy, why didn't you come to me with this?" he heard a concerned, but disappointed voice hovering in his ear. Ducky.

Oh yeah, I forgot I'd made him my medical proxy after Gibbs ran away from home in a snit…

His only response was a slight shrug. Now wasn't the time to be asking him stupid questions, so he feigned loopiness with a wide smile.

"Oh, hi, Ducky." he acknowledged the man in a tired sigh, which wasn't actually far from reality. "Yeah, about that…everyone was kinda preoccupied,"

by eviscerating me on an almost hourly basis,

"and you were breaking in your probie,"

while simultaneously tearing Gibbs a new one vicariously through me, as if I could do a damned thing about him",

"and honestly, I just thought it was migraines from stress."

"But you knew better a few days ago, didn't you? That it wasn't migraines?" Ducky chastised, with none of his grandfatherly patina that Tony had come to love.

Ok, if Ducky was going for tough love, Tony could give it right back.

"It was a personal situation. I didn't want it mixed with work until it was resolved."

"I'm still your medical proxy, Anthony. I deserved to be informed of your situation before finding you half conscious on the floor of the bullpen."

"And I deserved to not have all of D.C. suddenly know my medical condition."

"You know I would never divulge such information!" Ducky hissed, incensed that Tony would think he'd break doctor-patient privacy.

"Not what I meant, Ducky. I tried keeping it under wraps until I had a good opportunity to let Gibbs and the team know. I made the mistake of forgetting my outpatient i.d. and Ziva was right in my shit about it. Like she has the right to know everyone's business while literally making a career out of keeping her own. She'd be shocked at what I know about her…"

"And your point to all this?" the elder doctor grated, his own patience worn thin.

"My point, Dr. Mallard, is that my boss and my supposed team..even Abby…"

Even you, he so badly wanted to blurt out

"We're so busy with their Gibbs love/hate fest, that it wouldn't have even registered. Hell the fact that the more doctor appointments I had, the angrier Gibbs got, should tell you something right there. You think I was going to bare my soul to him the way he's been acting towards me? Hell can freeze over first!"

Tony's b.p. monitor sounded an increasing alarm, until a charge nurse came in to check on him. She saw the younger man's agitation, and sensed from his visitor's stiff body language that he had caused it.

"Dr. Mallard, while I appreciate your professional standing here at Bethesda, I do need you to leave, at least for now. We're trying to get Tony calmed down and settled, not worked into a state of hypertension."

Her words were measured and calm, polite, but the astute m.e. read the message in her eyes. Stop messing with my patient or I'll have you barred from this room, medical proxy be damned.

"Er, yes, of course, nurse, I do apologize. I'll be off then, if you would kindly inform me of when his neurologist is available I would greatly appreciate it." He turned back to Tony before leaving, gently clasping the young man's untethered hand in his and leaning over him

"And I apologize to you, dear Anthony. I came here with a proverbial bee in my bonnet, and behaved abominably towards you; not just now, but for the past several months. While I was selfishly stewing in my petty anger at Jethro, you, poor boy, were fighting a battle on every front. Please forgive me. I fear that I spend so much time down in the depths with the dead, that I sometimes lose touch with the living, and those I care about. You know that I care very much for you, Anthony, and never meant to cause you hurt. You get some rest. Tomorrow is a busy day for you."

Tony gave the older doctor a genuine smile, and a genuinely loopy one this time, from something the nurse had added to his i.v. bag.

"Thanks, Ducky. Does Gibbs know?"

Ducky nodded solemnly.

"He knows, but doesn't understand all of it. He's struggling. But don't worry, I'll help him through it. Close your eyes, Anthony, and sleep. All will be well "