It is a fact of life that growing up and maturing can be a complicated and trying time for many young people. For most, the complexity of going through puberty, undergoing the multitude of bodily and emotional changes, and experiencing the new pressures of peers, family, and society can be done without trauma or damage. They shift into this new awareness easily and with grace, secure in themselves and the world around them. They have strong family ties and support groups and are able to swing smoothly into their new roles, using the knowledge they've gathered by observing those closest to them, remembering the morals and values taught, and stepping forward with pride and dignity, unafraid they will be harmed or ostracized for minor infractions or deviations from the norm.

But for some, there are incidents that tarnish, that taint, that pollute this time of transformation from child to young adult into an emotional roller coaster, the peaks and valleys determined by memories of past hurts or abuse. They stumble more than most, as they try to bury the harmful events of their childhood, attempting to mold themselves into the likeness of another and not remaining true to themselves. They endeavor to fit in with their friends and family, concealing essential parts of their souls, ashamed or afraid the demons of rememberance will rear their terrifying visages and pull them back to a place so horrible that usual nightmares pale in comparison. Some are able to keep a tight lock, refusing to examine those memories: no speaking, no thinking, no anything. They want nothing more than to be considered 'normal'.

Mere stumbling is expected for any young person attempting to fit in, to belong, to be like everyone else. They carefully traverse the path, navigating over those peaks and around those valleys, finding the best route and passage they can. The road may not be easy, at times, but it merely leads to nothing more than regaining balance, placing one foot in front of the other, and continuing on with the journey. But, for the children carrying the scars of abuse, the usual stumbles and staggers sometime become terrible falls and descents into their hellish world of unwanted rememberance.

On the evening of the third day of his visit with his Gunny, twelve-year old Tony DiNozzo fell. Hard.

Jethro Gibbs met the adolescent at the doorway of his apartment, detected the tight set of the slim shoulders, saw the stark misery etched in the youthful face, and heard the rough, painful sound of the boy's usually sweet voice.

"Oh, Gunny," Tony's words were broken, tears beginning to run down his cheeks and drip off the quivering chin, "I...I've done something really bad."

Jethro immediately grabbed the boy into a tight embrace, briefly lifting him from the floor, and held him close, feeling the smaller arms clutching back at the gesture of support and holding on with every ounce of strength. The tears continued, dampening the fabric at the front of the man's shirt, the boy's hot face pushed securely into the center of Jethro's solid chest and his fingers keeping their grip on the material across the strong back.

Jethro glanced quickly toward the clock on the kitchen wall and saw it was just after eight o'clock. He knew Tony had planned on meeting with Jessie and her friends by the pool to swim and talk until around nine-thirty and had seemed so happy to find other kids close to his age to hang out with. The boy was use to the population of his own safe neighborhood, where kids could always find appropriate playmates and friends. That Jessie and her friends had been a bit older had concerned Jethro at first but, after Tony's insistence that he felt comfortable around them, the man had relented to his own misgivings and given his permission for the boy to see them tonight. Now, he silently damned himself for allowing that to happen. But what could have possibly occurred to cause Tony to react this way? What had the boy done?

"Tony," Jethro kept his voice as calm as he could and tried to ease up on their mutual embrace, his action causing the boy's fingers to dig harder into his back, the digits trying to maintain their desperate hold on his only perceived island of safety. "Shhhhh...it's okay. Tony, I'm here."

Deciding the living area was just too far away, Jethro maneuvered their bodies until he was against the now-closed front door and slowly began to slide down the hard, flat surface, keeping the descent controlled and unhurried. He spread his legs so the bulk of Tony's body remained within the protection of his limbs and continued to hold tight, rubbing soothing circles across the tense and trembling back and whispering tranquil nonsense into the shell of one ear. He felt Tony shift with him, saw the boy pull his knees up and turn so he was in a fetal position against his torso, and heard the rough, ragged breathing. Jethro brought his own knees up, caging the youth in on both sides, providing a haven of security and safety and remained determined to ride this one out, no matter how long it took.

The situation brought back flashes of the past for the man as he quickly recalled other times he'd held the boy while struggling with some memory or hurt, could vividly remember rocking the small body until sleep came, or until he became calm enough to speak of the monsters that continued to haunt his dreams. Even as he got older, the need for physical contact endured and Tony would track Jethro down, if available, crawl into the man's lap, and demand to be held, simply because he wanted the close contact. It was a habit the boy had perfected on the day of Mike Johnson's funeral and, obviously, had no intention of giving up any time soon. Once he'd gotten a taste of how sweet it was to be held in the embrace of someone who actually cared about him, the boy looked for any opportunity to engage in the activity. The ex-Marine firmly believed the child was unintentionally trying to make up for all the hugs and snuggles he'd missed during the first horrendous six years of his life and today, it seemed, was no exception. Tony needed the reassurance he could only get by being held safely in his Gunny's strong, secure arms.

Sometime later, Jethro could hear the sobbing ease, could feel the trembling still. He continued to smooth his broad hand over the planes of Tony's back, switching from small circles into drifting patterns that traveled from the base of the boy's spine, up to the nape of his neck, and through the soft hair at the bottom of his skull. The gentle massage loosened the tense shoulders and back and the boy slowly began to uncoil from his tight position, head lifting until his nose was pressing into the warm, exposed skin at Jethro's neck and one leg moving until it was resting comfortably over a firm thigh. His grip on the man's shirt relaxed but the embrace continued, one slim arm draping over Jethro's shoulder and the other snaking around at waist height. They were chest to chest, now, and Jethro could actually feel the beating of the younger heart against his torso, the rhythm settling to a more tranquil pace. It was time to try some words again.

"Tony," Jethro whispered, lips moving against the boy's forehead, "everything's going to be all right. I've got you, baby, and I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Okay?"

He detected a tiny nod of Tony's head against his neck, could feel the boy's wet nose near his chin, and slowly lowered his mouth until he could press a brief kiss to one tear-slick cheek. He heard a soft sigh of contentment.

"Tell me," he prompted gently, keeping his hands moving over the youngster's back.

Another sigh escaped, this one containing a hint of resignation. The arm looped loosely around Jethro's waist uncurled and rose, moving to mirror the one already placed around his right shoulder, and Tony's mouth was suddenly resting near his left ear.

"I hit Jessie."

The soft confession was not what Jethro expected. To be honest, Jethro really didn't know what he'd been expecting but, to hear Tony had resorted to violence, against a girl, was possibly the very last thing he would have ever expected from the adolescent. In all the years Jethro had known the boy, he was only aware of one time when physical contact had been used as a means to end a confrontation. It just wasn't in his nature to hurt. Then again, with the on-set of puberty and the sudden flow of testosterone, who really knew what the boy was capable of doing. He pushed his shock away and refocused his thoughts.

"Maybe you should start at the beginning for me," he suggested quietly. "It would probably all make better sense if you gave me the whole story."

"Okay," came the muted reply. There was a moment of hesitation before he spoke again and Jethro expected it was merely Tony's way of deciding where to begin. "I met the other kids at the pool, like I told you I was going to do. We were swimming and having a good time, just playing around. There were more people there, grown ups and little kids both, but we stayed pretty much in the deep end just diving in and goofing off. It was fun...for awhile."

He shifted again on Jethro, bringing his other leg up over the man's opposite thigh, and resettled so he was straddling the adult's lap, body resting fully against the strong, solid torso. The ex-Marine remembered carrying the boy like this when he was very young and too tired to walk and it brought a lick of warmth that coiled gently around his heart. He hugged the boy closer.

"Go on," he encouraged.

There was a moment of hesitation again. "Jessie...Jessie said she wanted to go back to her place for a little while and that we all should come with her. She said she had soda and junk food we could snack on. I didn't want to go but they...they kept saying it was okay and that we'd come right back. I knew I told you I was going to be at the pool and I was afraid if you came looking for me, you'd be mad if I wasn't there."

Jethro patted his back but didn't speak. Tony sighed again and continued.

"The other guys...they called me a chicken...said I was scared. They made me mad but Jessie told them to shut up. She said I didn't have to come if I didn't want but she said she had a pet iguana in her room and thought I'd like to see it. I've never seen one, Gunny, and I wanted to see it. I knew it wouldn't take too long, so...I went with them."

"Jessie live in this building or one of the others?" Jethro asked, trying to get a handle on just how far he'd gone from the pool area.

"This one," Tony replied. "Just at the other end."

"Okay, go on."

"When we got there," Tony rested his head on Jethro's shoulder, the tip of his nose brushing the lobe of the man's ear, "no one else was home. Jessie said her mom was at work and wouldn't be back until real late. I thought...I thought maybe her dad was there but...she doesn't have a dad. We were there all by ourselves."

Not wanting to jump to conclusions, Jethro tamped down on the flash of dread flaring in his mind. Just because there wasn't an adult home to supervise the teenagers didn't necessarily mean there was going to be trouble. But, throw in the mix of both sexes, attired in nothing more than swimwear, and it was certainly an opportunity for disaster. He took a deep breath and tried to keep an open mind and just listen to the boy's tale.

"Jessie got us some soda and chips and we sat around in the living room, watching tv. MTV or something like it, I think. I knew I shouldn't stay and told Jessie I had to go back to the pool. She said to come see her iguana. I went to her room with her. She...she shut the door, said she didn't want it to escape when she took it out of the cage."

Jethro's gut clenched tightly. "Did she have an iguana, Tony?"

"No."

He felt the young arms tighten around his shoulders and, instinctively, hugged back. The minutes stretched out before Tony finally spoke again.

"When I turned around, she was right in front of me, real close. She asked me if I wanted to kiss her. I...I really did want to kiss her, Gunny. When I said 'yes', she just pushed up against me and started kissing me...hard. I've never *really* kissed a girl before and it was...it was..."

"What?" Jethro prompted at the hesitation.

"It was kind of weird, you know? It was so good and so bad at the same time. I knew I wasn't suppose to be there, that you'd be mad if you knew where I was and what I was doing. But it felt so good to kiss her and I liked how it was making me feel, all itchy or something. She pulled me over to her bed and we sat down and kissed some more. She started squirming and telling me to 'come on'. I...I wasn't sure what she wanted me to do, I mean, I know we talked about things yesterday but I...I didn't think she really wanted to have sex with me. But she kept saying it over and over and, then, her tongue was in my mouth and I was *so* hard and it was getting harder to think and I knew I wasn't suppose to be there and the others were right out there in the living room and she was moaning and..."

"Breathe, Tony," Jethro tried to slow the stream of words gushing from the boy's mouth, tried to calm the rapidly beating heart he could feel pounding against his chest. "Just take a moment and breathe."

The boy nodded against his shoulder and quietened. Jethro let his hands resume running the path from the small of the youth's spine to his skull, combing his fingers through the short, soft hair, waiting until he was ready to go on.

"I love you, Gunny," Tony whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the man's warm neck.

Jethro thought for a moment he wouldn't be able to contain the sudden swell of emotion within his chest. The quiet declaration of love and trust was almost too much but he managed to take a ragged breath and reply.

"I love you, too, Tony," he responded gently. "Do you think you can continue now?"

"Yeah, I think so," the boy sighed, shifting his legs off the man and slithering down until he could lay with one cheek pressed against Jethro's stomach, arms wrapped around the trim waist. "She kept kissing and kissing and it was getting hard to breath. And I was *so* excited. I've never been that hard before, Gunny. I was so hard, it kind of hurt a little. I...I put my hand on her boobs and she...she put her hand on my dick and I thought about Stevie with Brittany's mom and thought I was gonna come."

"Did you?" Jethro asked, not remembering seeing any evidence of ejaculate on Tony's swim trunks when the boy had returned earlier. Honestly, he hadn't been looking for anything like that at the time.

"No. I...I was real close but I didn't. She...she pushed me down on the bed. Got on top of me," his breathing was getting ragged again and his tone was a little strange. "She held me down, kissing and moving. Something...something happened...made me feel...I...I kind of freaked."

"Easy, now," Jethro soothed, frowning at the strange tone of the boy's voice. "Freaked? Why?"

"I...I don't really know. I was okay until...until she got on top of me. Sort of," Tony sighed and rubbed his nose against Jethro's belly.

"Hey, that better not be snot," Jethro chided gently, tapping the boy on the back of the head, trying to ease some of the growing tension.

Tony laughed quietly and then quickly sobered. "When she pushed me down like that, almost like she was trapping me there, something...something happened. I...I remembered Uncle Robert for some reason. Why would I do that, Gunny? Why?"

Well, shit.

Jethro's stomach was rolling again. "Did he ever lay on you like that? Hold you down?"

Silence.

"Tony?"

"Yes," the answer was whispered, almost undetectable.

"Maybe that's what you were remembering," the man forced the words out calmly, not wanting to upset the boy further. Inside, he wanted to get his hands on Robert DiNozzo again and, this time, finish the job properly.

Tony seemed to consider the reasoning for a few moments. "But why would I think about him when Jessie was on me? She's not anything like Uncle Robert."

"No." This was way out of Jethro's league but he knew he had to give it a try. Where was Doctor Amberg when she was needed? "But maybe you don't like how it feels now because you didn't like how it made you feel back then."

"What? You mean, I'm never going to be able to...I'm not going to...just because he did...I'll always think about...never?" The broken sentences were taking on a strained, injured quality.

"Tony," Jethro had to get a handle on this now. He pulled the boy up until the youth was sitting directly in front of him, his large hands gripping each shoulder. He could see the lost, haunted look in the young eyes. "Let's just...let's just get through what happened tonight before we start talking about your uncle. One thing at a time."

"But..."

"Tony, I promise," he gently shook the slim shoulders, "we *will* talk about it. Let's just do this first. Okay?"

The boy pressed his lips tightly together and nodded relunctantly. He seemed to focus on a spot just to one side of Jethro's throat and didn't look back up into the man's face. The ex-Marine sighed loudly.

"Tony?" He prodded. "You said you 'freaked'. How?"

"I...I pushed her off, hard. She fell to the floor. When I got to the door, she was right behind me again, pulling on me, trying to get me to come back to the bed. I pushed her again. I opened the door and the others were...they were watching a movie... a porn movie." He swallowed and finally met Jethro's eyes. "I've never...I've never seen one before. Jeffery did at his dad's but I...I didn't know they were like that, Gunny. You could see...*everything*."

The man nodded his understanding. "Go on. What happened next?"

"Jessie came up behind me and put her arms around me, said if I came back to her room, she'd 'make me into a man'," he was beginning to sound a little angry now and, secretly, Jethro was glad, tired of the defeat and hurt that had tinged his earlier words. "The others...the others had their swimsuits off and were...on the couch and on the floor and they...they were...doing it. Right there in front of each other. I felt like I couldn't breath, like all the air was gone. Jessie grabbed my dick again and I started to feel sick, like I was going to puke. I told her I had to leave and she said...she said she would suck me off. She just said it like it was nothing, Gunny! I was still hard but it all felt so wrong and she...she just wouldn't let go."

Jethro tightened his grip some more on the shaking shoulders and could understand why the boy was angry. He was getting angry, too.

"Gunny, I think I wanted to do it but...it was almost like I couldn't. Does that make any sense?"

Jethro nodded. "Believe it or not, it makes perfect sense. Your body was trying to battle with your conscience and it was either going to have it it's way or it was going to throw a fit. That's why you felt ill."

Tony offered him a weak, trembling smile. "I told her I was going to be sick and she called me a 'little pussy'. She pushed me against the wall and put her hand inside my swimsuit. It...it shocked me, at first. When I tried to get her to stop, she grabbed my dick again and squeezed it real hard. It...hurt. All I could think about was getting away from her and out of there before I puked all over the place. So, I hit her. In the face."

'Good for you,' the man thought with a smirk. 'Hope to hell she's got a broken nose.'

"Bet she let go of you then, didn't she?" Jethro teased gently, ruffling the boy's hair.

"Yeah, but she scratched me as she pulled her hand away. I think I'm bleeding a little."

Jethro frowned and tugged on the youth. "Stand up and let me take a look."

"Gunny, it's okay. You don't have to do that."

"Stand up, Tony," Jethro repeated, the order very clear and not to be ignored. "I've seen you naked more times than I can count. Come on, let me see how much damage was done."

Tony got to his feet and relunctantly pulled his trunks down far enough to reveal his penis, lifting the well-formed shaft until the underside was exposed to Jethro's cautious examination. The man didn't touch the youth but assessed the damage carefully, grunting when he saw the reddened line running from the base of the penis almost to the sensitive tip. It had, indeed, bled in a couple of places but didn't seem too bad now. The bitch had really tried to take a piece of him with her.

"Well?" Tony asked impatiently.

Jethro decided to play it up a bit, to lighten the mood while he could. Slowly, he got to his feet and put on a grim expression, shaking his head at the youngster.

"Looks like you may need a few stitches."

"Stitches?" Tony squeeked, face paling and hands quickly reaching to cradle his genitals protectively. "No, I mean, it doesn't really hurt that bad..."

"Might even need a cast."

"A cast..."

"Or they may decide just to amputate."

"Gunny!" Tony cast a furious gaze at the man and launched himself at the ex-Marine. "That's not funny!"

Jethro caught the boy up easily into his arms and threw him over one strong shoulder, slapping him sharply on the ass. "Oh, suck it up, soldier."

He carried the boy to the bathroom door, listening to the flow of useless threats that poured from Tony's mouth the whole way, and put him back on his own feet inside the threshold. He grinned down at the sputtering youth and had to laugh at the expression he saw.

"That wasn't funny!" Tony fumed, pushing away from the man.

"Yes, it was," Jethro contridicted easily, never losing the grin. He reached out and directed the spitting boy toward the shower stall. "Now, get your butt in there and wash yourself thoroughly...and I mean thoroughly...especially between your legs. The soap may sting a bit but it's got to be done. When you finish, I'll put some Neosporin on it. You got something loose to sleep in tonight?"

"Yes." The boy's tone was pretty insolent.

The defiance was getting a little tiring and Jethro was having no more of it. "Enough, Tony."

The boy glared up at the man but wisely kept his mouth shut. He turned away, peeled off his trunks, and stepped into the shower, fooling with the knobs until he got the water temperture just the way he liked. Jethro remained by the door as the water continued to run. Suddenly, the shower curtain was jerked to one side and Tony peeked out.

"You just going to stand there and wait?" He asked suspiciously but without the snarky attitude of earlier.

"Yep."

Tony looked like he was tempted to say something else in response but, again, held his tongue, flipping the curtain back into place and continuing with his cleansing ritual. Jethro smirked again and ambled all the way in, snagging a thick towel from the wall rack and reaching into the medicine cabinet to grab the tube of antibacterial ointment. He moved to sit on the closed lid of the toilet and waited for the boy to finish, thinking about the day and how it was now ending. All in all, it could have been worse. Much worse.

Jethro shuddered at the thought of Tony almost losing his virginity to Jessie. He knew it would happen one day but was glad it hadn't been today, with someone who obviously didn't care about the boy. It had been a close call though and the thought actually made his stomach hurt. He listened as the shower continued and thought about the youngster, wondering, when the time finally arrived, if he'd be able to work around those demons and connect deeply enough to forget about his past hurts.

The water stopped and Tony was holding an arm out toward Jethro. The man smiled, draping the fluffly cloth over the arm and watching it disappear back behind the curtain. He should have known the boy was aware of his presence. Tony had a way finding things and detecting a person's position that was slightly uncanny at times.

The shower curtain was pulled to one side and Tony stepped out, towel positioned around his slim hips. He moved toward Jethro and stopped right in front of the man, hair damp and cheeks pinkened. He smelled of soap and shampoo and Jethro couldn't help himself. He reached out and pulled the surprised boy into his arms, embracing him tightly and breathing deeply of the sweet, young scent of the body.

"Gunny?" Tony's voice was slightly muffled against one broad shoulder.

Jethro eased back slightly and offered a weak smile. "Sorry. I guess...I guess I just realized how quickly you're growing up and that you won't be a little turd too much longer."

Tony grinned. "No. I'll just be a bigger turd. Like you."

"Hey!" Jethro barked but there was no bite to it at all. He began to unscrew the lid to the tube of ointment and watched the boy drop the towel, reaching with both hands to pull his wounded penis up for easier treatment. The ex-Marine studied the scratch again. "You did wash real good, right?"

"Yes, Gunny," the boy sighed.

The man nodded and squeezed a little onto a finger and reached to slowly dab the healing ointment on the injured flesh, careful not to put too much pressure against the red mark. "Does it hurt?"

"A little," Tony confessed, shifting slightly. "Just...a little."

"That the truth? You've got to be honest with me about something like this."

"I wouldn't lie to you, Gunny," he shifted again. "Yes, it hurts a little but..."

"What?" Jethro asked without looking up, eyes focused on the task, head bent close to make sure he was covering all the scraped areas. "Hold still, Tony."

"Um," the boy moved nervously again, "maybe you...maybe you should...um..."

"What?"

"Stop."

"Stop? Tony, I can't stop until I...Oh."

Jethro removed his hands and got to his feet, moving to the sink so he could wash the creamy ointment from his fingers. He saw Tony's reflection in the mirror and saw the cheeks bloom with embarrassment, realizing neither of them expected the youth's body to respond to the gentle touch.

"I'm sorry..."

Jethro whirled and moved his face close to Tony's. "Don't apologize for something you don't have any control over. It was a normal reaction and it doesn't mean anything. Okay? Now, go get dressed and we can talk some more, if you want."

Tony nodded but still looked unsure and confused. "Okay, Gunny."

Jethro watched him go and shook his head, knowing they'd get past this, too. He took a few minutes to straighten the bathroom, flicked off the light, and moved back to the kitchen, suddenly feeling the need for a beer. He stood by the open refrigerator, twisted off the lid, and quickly took a long drink of the cold ale, feeling the tingle as it moved past his throat. Closing the door, he moved back to the living room and waited for Tony to reappear, checking several channel on the tv before finding a basketball game to watch.

As the time continued to pass, Jethro got concerned and finally went to see if everything was all right with the boy. Arriving at the open door of the guest bedroom, he started to tap on the frame to announce his presence but stopped as he caught sight of the youth, standing like a statue at the foot of the bed. There was no movement, except for the small rise and fall of the chest as the boy breathed and the slow, reflexive blink of eyes that seemed to be seeing something else.

"Tony?" Jethro spoke quietly, watching as the youth's head rose fractionally. "You okay?"

"Why did he do those things to me?"

The young voice was soft and devoid of emotion and, more than anything, that scared Jethro. He took a step closer, coming into the room, but kept the doorway clear and open, unsure what was going through Tony's mind right now. If the boy needed to feel safe, he needed to be able to see he wasn't trapped in this room.

"He was a sick man, Tony."

"I saw what he did with women," the eyes still focused on the bed, almost as if he was watching the scene play out before him. "Why would he need to do things with me? I was just a little kid. I didn't know what it was all about back then."

"It was his way of exerting his power and control over you..."

"He did that with his belt and his fists," Tony interrupted, voice still empty, dead, like he was talking about someone else. "He didn't need to do it that way, too."

Jethro took another step closer and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to get the boy to look at him. He saw a slight twitch at the corner of one eye. "What are you seeing, Tony?"

There was a tense moment and then, suddenly, Tony was pointing at the bed. "Me."

Jethro closed his eyes and swallowed. He took a deep breath, reopen his eyes, and looked closely at the boy, seeing a small frown appear between the green eyes.

"Do you want to tell me?"

"No," came the hollow reply, "but I think I have to."

Jethro waited, watching carefully, closely, for some emotion to appear and for the words to start. Maybe they would arrive at the same time.

"Tell me, then."

"He drank a lot sometimes. He would get drunk and get real mean. I always tried to hide when he was drinking. Most times...most times I could stay out of his way and he would forget all about me even being there. He would go away for days sometimes and I would be happy. Hungry but happy." Tony stepped closer to the bed. "One night, I was asleep in the closet when he came home. I didn't hear him, at first, and he found me before I could find a better place to hide. He grabbed me by the hair and yanked me close," he wrinkled his nose at the memory, "and I could smell his breath. He'd been drinking and he was acting real weird." He took another step and stopped, knees against the mattress. "He pulled me over to the bed, ripped off my underwear, pushed me down, started kissing me and touching me, telling me he was going to make me feel so good. He...he held me down when I started crying, told me to shut up. Then, he got on top of me."

The boy's body was beginning to shake slightly and the mouth closed, lips pressing into a tight, thin line. There was a difference to his eyes now, too, but there was a horrible glint that spoke of some barely contained fury, bubbling just under the surface. This was not good.

"He put his dick in me," he gritted out between clenched teeth. "Why would a grown man do that to a little kid? He didn't love me, I don't think he even liked me, so why would he do that to me?"

"It had nothing to do with love, Tony."

"I know that!" Tony screamed, finally snapping under the strain. "I know that *now*. Don't you understand? I know what love is now but, back then, I didn't know! It was all I ever had! All I knew! The only kind of attention I got was when he hit me or whipped me or fucked me..."

"Tony, don't..."

"NO!" Tony whirled to scowl at Jethro. "You can't tell me 'don't'. It was all I knew back then, so don't tell me to stop! It was who I was then."

Jethro inched closer, waiting, needing to close the space between them, emotionally and physically, as much as possible. Tony's eyes remained locked with his. "You know what real love is now, don't you, Tony? You know how much I love you and how much Candace loves you. Hell, even your grandfather loves you. We would never do anything like that to you. Everyday, we show you what real love is."

"It's not that!" He screamed again and Jethro fleetingly wondered what the neighbors were thinking.

"Then, tell me. What is it?" He asked calmly, trying to get the boy to settle by hearing how soft his own voice was right now.

Tony looked like he was going to yell again but, instead, moved so he was standing directly in front of Jethro, eyes growing desperate and scared. "What if...what if I can't do it with anyone because of what he did to me? What if...what if he ruined me?"

"Tony," Jethro reached out but flinched when Tony jerked back from the touch. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "What happened with you and Jessie was a fluke. You had a hard-on, you said you wanted to have sex..."

"But I didn't! I couldn't! I started to feel sick. What if that happens every time? What if I always think of him when I'm with someone else?"

"You won't..."

"You don't know that! How can you pretend to know that?!"

"And you don't know that you will," he said loudly, rising from the bed and stepping close to the boy.

Tony glared up at him but didn't move away. He was breathing way too fast now and his eyes were full of misery, pooling in anguish. "I hate him! I hate him for what he did to me. And I hate him for doing it to me still!"

Jethro reached out and, thankfully, Tony did not pull away this time. He grabbed a hold of the youth and took him into his strong embrace, wondering if the child's question could be true, if he'd ever be able to have a relationship with anyone without thinking of his past. The thought almost made the ex-Marine double over in agony for the boy. He pulled Tony up and the boy's legs went immediately around his waist, locking them together into a single, safe unit. Jethro eased down and sat on the edge of the bed, holding, rocking gently, soothing with his presence and his soft words.

Tony's anger was gone and, with it, the tears came again, not hard and rough as before, but soft and silent like a warm, spring rain. It spoke volumes of the boy's fatigue.

"I'm so tired of crying, Gunny," he confessed after a short while, sniffing against Jethro's shirt. "I'm just so tired of everything. If this is what it's like to grow up, I really don't think I want to."

Jethro nodded in agreement but knew words were needed. "Things will get better for you, Tony, I promise. This is just a very rough patch you're going through right now, that's all. And I'll always be here for you."

"You're so far away," Tony whispered around a yawn. "I don't get to see you unless it's vacation time or you make a quick trip to New York."

"I know but that may all change. As soon as I get my training out of the way, I'm hoping to move closer. And Candace said your grandfather was offering to move both of you to the Washington area. We would be real close then."

"I like where I'm living now," he pouted against Jethro's ear.

"Tony, that house is way too big for just you and Candace and your grandfather can help out in ways you can't imagine."

"Because he's rich?"

"Well, yes, that's one reason. He's a good man..."

"He's so old, Gunny."

"Tony," Jethro sighed and pulled back to make the youth look him in the eye, "you've got to get over the fact he doesn't like baseball. Candace tells me you've gone to the theater and the opera and places she'd never be able to take you. You're seeing things and experiencing things most kids will never get the chance to do. Someday, you'll be glad he did these things with you."

"That's what Candace keeps telling me," he sulked, "but it's real hard to remember when some fat lady is singing in some foreign language that makes no sense or the men are wearing outfits so tight you can see their nuts..."

Jethro had to laugh. "So, you've been to the ballet, too?"

"Yes," Tony grinned. "Guess what we saw?"

"What?"

"The Nutcracker!" He giggled at the title and, like most young boys, loved the play on words.

They both relaxed and Jethro finally eased the boy off his lap, feeling the youth lean against him as they sat side by side on the bed. Jethro put an arm around the slim shoulders and drew him close for one, final hug before rising.

"There's a game on tv and I'm going to fix some popcorn. Want to join me?"

Tony nodded and rose to follow, tugging up his loose-fitting sweatpants. "Can I fix a sandwich?"

"Sure. Anything you want."

They puttered around the kitchen, Jethro by the microwave and Tony by the sink, each fixing their own snack. When the boy pulled the milk jug from the refrigerator, the man snagged another bottle of beer and, together, they finished preparing what they needed.

Once settled on the couch, Jethro let the quiet sound of the tv settle around them, enjoying a moment of peace with the boy. He glanced over and watched him make short work of the sandwich and knew the smaller hands would be reaching toward the bowl of popcorn real soon. He shifted the container closer to the youth and sighed in contentment, refocusing on the images of the game.

"What did you do while I was...gone?" Tony asked, stumbling slightly over his choice of words. "Anything exciting?"

"Wrote a few letters, paid a few bills, made a few calls. Oh," he suddenly remembered one call in particular, "we are going out tomorrow night for dinner...with an old friend."

Tony turned to look closely at the man. "A friend?"

"Yep."

"Man or woman?"

"Does it matter?"

"I guess not," the boy sighed and looked back to the tv. "What happens after dinner?"

"Ah, I guess we'll bring you back here and then we'll go to a club or something."

"So, it's a date."

"Yep."

Tony turned fully on the couch and waited until Jethro looked at him. "You know, Gunny, I don't have to go out to dinner with you. I'm old enough to stay here by myself."

"This is your break from school, Tony. I'm not going to leave you alone here..."

"Gunny," Tony interrupted and shook his head, "won't your 'friend' be more impressed if you don't have a twelve-year old kid tagging along on this date? I mean, what's that all about?"

"My friend already knows about you and has no problem with you being there for dinner."

Tony frowned and looked away. He fiddled with his empty plate and glass, not really watching the game.

"What is it, Tony?" Jethro asked, seeing something flit across the young face. "What's bothering you?"

"I...I don't want to go."

"Can I ask why?"

One shoulder rose and fell and Jethro sighed. He grabbed the remote and clicked off the tv, waiting until the boy relented. It didn't take too long.

"I just...I would rather not...if you're going to have sex, I would rather not know who it is," he finally got out. He sat stiffly on the couch, head down, and waited.

Jethro eyed the boy, not sure what to think. "What makes you think we'll be having sex?"

"Well," the head remained focused on his lap, "that's what the date is all about, isn't it? I mean, that's what we talked about earlier, right? You said you needed...you needed to have sex."

Jethro reached out and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing gently until the face rose and the eyes met his. There was something in the green depths that confused the man, something strange. He'd seen the look before but never, ever, expected to see it in Tony's gaze.

"Tony," he asked gently, "are you jealous?"

The boy looked quickly away and sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the soft sofa, pulling on a loose thread hanging off the edge of his t-shirt. His fingers played nervously with the thin fiber until Jethro captured them with one big hand.

"Tony?"

"Yes," he finally hissed out, sagging back against the couch. "Okay? I...I don't want to meet the person you're going to fuck."

"Tony!" Jethro gripped the hands hard. "That's uncalled for and unnecessary. Understand?"

"Well, that's what it is, isn't it? You don't love this person, do you? It's just for sex, that's all," the boy's voice was strained with raw emotion. He finally turned his haunted eyes to Jethro. "I...I don't want to know this person that you will be...that you're going to have sex with. I don't want to be around him or her or whoever it is. That person is going to be closer to you than I ever will be and I don't...I don't like it. Okay? I just don't like it."

The confession rocked the man to his soul, hearing and seeing a side he never expected. He stared at the boy, saw the truth in the young eyes, and realized, in all the time he'd spent with Tony, he'd never thought about what his words and actions meant to the impressionable youth.

"Tony," he whispered gently, "what are you saying?"

"I...I love you, Gunny."

"And I love you, too, Tony..."

"No! I mean, I *really* love you. Don't you understand? You make me feel good and wanted and safe and, sometimes, when I masturbate..."

"Don't!" Jethro's arm shot out and a hand grabbed Tony's thinner bicep tightly, stopping the next words form coming. He didn't need to hear the rest, couldn't stand to hear the rest, and needed to put a stop to this now. "Tony, what you think is love is *not* the kind that two adults have for each other. You look up to me, respect me, and you're confusing that with a physical love. I'm like a father to you, like..."

"I don't know what a father is!" He was starting to cry again. "Jimmy was the closest, I guess, but he always let me know he wasn't my real father, that he was more like a close cousin. I loved Jimmy but I didn't feel for him the way I feel for you. Don't you understand?"

"Yes, I do," he nodded his head, "but I don't feel that way about you."

The admission was like a blow to the face and, even with Jethro firmly holding his upper arm, Tony jerked back and crumpled, his complexion paling drastically. He sunk back and let his head fall against the sofa cushion at the rear of his skull, all energy draining away. His dull eyes bored into Jethro's.

"You...you don't love me anymore?" He choked out in a whisper.

"I love you more than life itself," Jethro shifted closer, pulling the limp body into a tight embrace, "but not like an adult loves another adult. Not like the way I loved MIke."

"Why not?" The small, dejected voice asked pitifully.

"Because you're still a boy, Tony, and I'm a grown man. There's too many years dividing us and too many experiences you still need to have before you give yourself totally to one person like that. You have so much more growing to do, so many places to go, so many people who will touch and help shape your life. You've got to be patient, Tony, and give life a chance. One day, you'll understand and one day you'll have what you want. You've just got to be patient."

Tony curled into the embrace and cried softly. "I don't know if I can, Gunny. It just hurts so much right now."

"I know, I know," he comforted the best he could, hugging the boy tight. "For now, you've just got to be satisfied with the way things are between us. One day, everything will make perfect sense to you. I promise."

Tony remained silent for a very long time and Jethro thought he might have gone to sleep, until the smaller head rose from where it had been tucked against the man's shoulder. The ex-Marine eased back and looked down into the sad, sweet face.

"You don't hate me now, do you?" The trembling voice asked meekly.

"God, no, Tony. I will always love you, you've just got to believe me. It may not be the kind of love you were hoping for but it's all I can give. It's all I've ever been able to give you. Nothing will change but I'm asking you to respect how I feel and to understand, as best as you can, that it's the only way things can ever be for us."

Tony sniffed and nodded slowly. Okay, Gunny. I'll try."

"That's all I can ask," Jethro smiled slightly and pulled the boy close again. "That's all I can ask."


TBC