Jethro Gibbs was born to drive.

The first time his daddy took the fair-haired two-year old from where he'd been playing in the dirt outside the family home in rural West Virginia and held him securely on his lap as he mowed the seemingly-endless hay fields on a bright, hot summer day, Jethro had known instantly he liked the feel of being behind the steering wheel of a powerful, motorized machine. With arms barely able to reach, his small hands had mimicked those of his father's, the rough vibrations from the forceful, thrumming engine traveling from fingers to elbows to shoulders and all the way through his body until they'd settled into a comfortable pulse low in his belly. He'd rode for hours in the dust and sun, happy and content, never fussing or squirming with disinterest or boredom. And, as the afternoon had slowly stretched toward suppertime, the young boy had found a sleepy haven held and tucked lovingly against his daddy's strong shoulder, small face pressed into the warm, familiar neck of the man who loved him more than life itself.

It was a ritual the duo repeated many times over the course of the years but, during the times when his daddy was unavailable, the laps of uncles or family friends became his next refuge. The mowing changed to plowing or pulling and the seasons changed from summer to spring or fall but the desire to be on a tractor was always foremost in the young boy's mind.

As he got older, he was taught to properly care for the machinery and, finally, on the arrival of his tenth birthday, was allowed to slowly drive, all by himself, the big, green John Deere tractor that was his daddy's pride. He carefully maneuvered between the uniform rows in the hay field as the workers picked up and deposited the heavy, square bales on the large, wooden wagon he was pulling. In his eyes, it was the best present he'd ever received and, during the long, hot day, had never complained about having to work on a day others usually celebrated by having parties or by going someplace special. He's been exactly where he wanted and had done exactly what he wanted and had gone to sleep that night with a tired but contented smile on his face.

His mean Uncle Jeff had started teaching him to drive a truck when he was almost twelve, yelling and cussing at the boy as he drove around and around in the back fields, the old Ford pickup bouncing and lurching over rocks and grooves in the compacted soil. The older man had a tendency to smack the boy in the back of the head every time a gear was missed or the speed got too fast but, even though he returned home with a slight headache, Jethro loved the times his Uncle Jeff would appear unannounced at the back door, throw a familiar set of keys at him, and tell him to get his sorry ass outside. By the time he'd finally been old enough to take the test for his driver's license, Jethro could drive better than most adults in the area but had the tendency to be impatient and short-tempered with those who got in his way on the roads. Most of the family got to the point where they would look between Jeff and Jethro, shake their heads at the obvious similarities, and sigh in resignation. Behind the wheel of the vehicle, the two were literally cut from the same cloth.

At the age of sixteen, Jethro gave up his virginity in the back seat of his best friend's old Chevy, the windows foggy and wet with reckless excitement as the teenage couple lost themselves in the moment. The movie playing on the huge screen at the local drive-in had held no interest for the two young couples and, when Brian and Marie decided to leave the car and go spend some time with other friends several rows away, Jethro and Bethanne had taken their usual make-out session to a new level, hands and mouths suddenly not enough to satisfy their aching needs. It had been fast and awkward, Bethanne's small cry of pain giving him a brief moment of worry, but had been the best thing Jethro had ever experienced during his short life. He'd immediately wanted to do it again and, each time they were together, tried to find some way to get Bethanne alone and out of her panties.

They'd been together almost a year and a half before she'd broken it off to start dating a senior and Jethro, once again, found himself in Brian's car, sharing a bootlegged bottle of moonshine with his friend, and bemaoning his lost love and the unfairness of the world. Brian had listened and agreed, vowing to help Jethro track down and beat up the senior who'd stolen Bethanne's affections and, when they stumbled outside the confines of the vehicle to take a much-needed leak, Brian had hauled Jethro in close and kissed his grieving, drunk friend with such passion and intensity the two didn't think twice before proceeding further. Strong, rough hands knew how and where to touch, the feel of solid muscle instead of soft curves lighting a fire that quickly consumed them both and, as they brought each other to a hard, grunting orgasm, they believed *this* was much more satisfying than being with any two-timing girl.

Until the fog of alcohol cleared from their minds and they began to comprehend the gravity of their actions.

Real life came crashing in. Words like fag, queer, homo filled their aching minds. Boys just did not do things like that with other boys, especially not in rural West Virginia. The awkward realization of what they'd done tore at their friendship until they could hardly stand to look at one another when passing in the hallways at school or sitting a few pews away in church. They sought out other friends, carefully keeping their distance from each other, and explaining the sudden loss of their friendship with simple shrugs and shakes of the head. How could it be explained to others when they didn't understand it themselves? And, as much as they wanted to blame the whole incident on the alcohol, they knew it was not the truth. Jethro could never look at Brian or his car again without remembering that night and the intense pleasure of being with another guy.

Now, years later, as he traveled the distance from Norfolk to Manassas, Jethro Gibbs could recall that time and those days like they'd just happened. He was heart-sore again, his marriage to Carolyn falling to pieces right around him, their shared discontentment and dissatisfaction driving him to find a brief reprieve from the storm raging within their home. He'd wrangled several days of personal time and, as soon as he'd been able to leave his desk at NCIS Headquarters, had hit the highway, letting the familiar feel of the steering wheel beneath his hands and the vibrations of the engine wrap around his tired body like the comforting arms of an old, kind friend. This was freedom. He could go wherever he wanted: just point the vehicle in the appropriate direction, press the accelerator, amd put as many miles between him and his problems as he could. And, if the other travelers on the road didn't take the hint and get out of his way, he'd just have to go around them any way he could manage.

Jethro wasn't due in Manassas until sometime tomorrow, his visit a surprise for Tony, but he knew Candace wouldn't care if he arrived early. He'd been given an open invitation when she and the teenager had moved into their new home eight months ago and was now just finding the opportunity to make it happen. Eight months was a long time to wait for anything and, although he'd payed a quick visit to them before their move to Virginia, Candace had warned of the physical changes he'd be able to see in the youth since he'd started high school.

She'd been eloquent in her descriptions and Jethro knew it was partly from the amount of pride she had in the boy. He was taller, she'd said, and would probably continue to grow until he was the height of his grandfather, who readily used his stature to intimidate political opponents or to appear imposing during photo opportunities. He was also filling out, the long hours involved in school athletics and in Foster's swimming pool making him stronger and sleek-muscled. He seemed blessed with a metabolism that allowed him to consume whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, without any sign of gaining unwanted pounds. Not even the mandatory weight training by the football coach at the beginning of the season had made him bulk up like several of the older boys, their beefy arms and expanding necklines reminding her of young bulls. She'd even confessed she thought he was actually beautiful, using the adjective because, in her mind, nothing else seemed to fit. He was a butterfly burst from the cocoon and, like any other proud parent, believed her child was uniquely attractive. That Tony wasn't Candace's biological son made no difference in the love and devotion she'd given over the years and, for that, Jethro held the woman in the highest esteem. There was no one on this planet quite like Candace DiNozzo.

Glancing quickly to the scribbled set of directions Candace had given him last weekend, when their plans for the surprise had finally come together, Jethro turned off the interstate and headed down the designated ramp, slowing to merge into the flow of traffic leading closer to the waiting neighborhood. He glanced at his watch and frowned at what he saw, thinking it too late to make a unexpected entrance tonight. Just as quickly, he remembered it was Friday and, with no school tomorrow, Tony would be allowed to stay up later than normal. Smiling at the thought of seeing the teenager again after all this time, Jethro ignored the posted speed signs and pressed on the accelerator.

It didn't take long to locate the house, nestled in a neighborhood with tall trees lining the street and old-fashioned, cottage-style lamps lighting the way. These were modest, well-established and well-maintained, and it reminded him of many other stable, middle-class neighborhoods he'd seen over the years.It was a good place for Candace and Tony and, by the looks of it, not enough property for the teenager to gripe about when yard work had to be done.

As he pulled into the drive, he noticed there were no lights on upstairs and only sparce illumination downstairs. Jethro frowned, wondering again if he should go find a motel for the night and come back sometime early in the morning when there'd be more visible activity. Quickly, he decided to stay. Someone was still awake and he was here, so he might as well just go on in. He locked and left the car, light duffle in hand, and made his way up the neat walkway, noticing the freshly-mown lawn and the clean edging. Smiling, he immediately knew what Tony had done after school today.

His knock on the door was answered only after the porch light was activated and feminine eyes peeked out from one of the side panels. Casually dressed and looking half-asleep, Candace welcomed him with a wide smile and a warm, tight hug. He couldn't help returning the grin as he recognized her obvious pleasure.

"Jethro!" She laughed in delight, pulling him in and shutting the door. "What a surprise! I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow but I'm so glad you could make it early."

"Me too. I hope you really don't mind."

"Lord, no," she sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "You know you're welcome here anytime. Come on in."

As she led the way from the foyer into the living room, Jethro was glad to see the familiar furnishings and photographs that once graced the DiNozzo home in New York now arranged into a comfortable and pleasing manner within the confines of this new dwelling. He smiled at many of the recognized items, pausing when his eyes lit on a strategically placed photo on the huge shelf just to the left of the television cabinet. Letting his fingers lightly trace over the frame, he felt the rush of memory wash over his being as he gazed at the photo, clearly remembering the day and the place and, more importantly, the people frozen there in time. Tony had been eight, visiting with Jethro and MIke at the cabin on Great Neck Bay, and all three had taken a moment to pose for the camera in a position they'd jokingly referred to as a 'Tony sandwich'. It was a close-up and anyone looking at the picture could see the love reflected in the eyes of the trio.

"That's always been one of my favorites," Candace's soft voice shook him from his thoughts and he felt her hand slip into his. "I think it's one of Tony's, too, because I'll catch him in here at the oddest times, just staring silently at it like he expects you guys to start talking to him or something."

Jethro nodded his head and forced his eyes away from the framed momento. "Where is Tony? He's not asleep already, is he?"

Candace pulled him over toward the large sofa and sat down, watching as he did the same. "He may be, Jethro. We didn't have a very good afternoon and, right after supper, he went to his room to do his homework and sulk. I heard him moving around earlier but, when I went upstairs a little while ago to get my book, I didn't see a light shining from under his door or hear anything."

"What's he sulking about?" Jethro shook his head and sighed.

"Oh, you know, just me being mean and all," she frowned and turned sideways to look at him more comfortably. "I wouldn't let him attend a party one of the boys on the baseball team was having tonight. I'd given him permission a week ago but just found out today there was going to be a lot more kids attending than just those on the team, including girls."

Jethro nodded and let his gaze travel around the cozy room, not sure if he should voice his opinion on the matter or just let things go. He had mixed feelings about this and knew he wasn't in the best position to make a judgement. He respected Candace and her on-going attempts at keeping the teenager away from situations that could be problematic but also knew the youth was at an age when socialization with his peers was essential. He'd had several late-night phone conversations with Tony since he started high school and knew the teen was beginning to feel like he was still being treated like a child, unable to go to the mall or to the movies like 'all the other kids' unless there was an adult chaperone present. He complained of his personal phone calls being monitored by Candace, especially if he placed a call to or received a call from a girl, and was 'just about ready to explode' if he heard her say 'when you get older' one more time.

"Okay," Candace raised an eyebrow at him, "I can see the gears turning inside there. What's on your mind?"

Jethro grunted and shook his head at her. "It's not my place, Candace. You're doing a great job raising Tony."

"But..." she waved a hand in his direction so he would finish his thought.

"Maybe you should have let him go."

"Jethro!" She was actually surprised. "You, of all people, should know..."

"Just let me finish," he cut her off but extended a hand to rest on her closest shoulder, not wanting to alienate her. "He could have been given some boundaries, like," he thought for a moment, "like maybe only being able to stay for a specific amount of time or having the parents at this party call to let you know how things were going or, hell, Candace, I don't know. It just seems like he needs a little more interaction with his friends outside of school, away from that restrictive environment."

She shook her head and looked slightly astounded at his comments. "I can't believe I'm hearing this from you. Jethro, he's fourteen. *Fourteen*. After what happened when he was with you..."

"I clearly remember what happened, Candace," he interrupted. "I was there."

"Yes, you were. And *I'm* here with him now. I set the rules. I make sure he's safe," she tried to control her rising anger by taking a deep breath. "Oh, Jethro, I don't want to argue with you about this. What's done is done. You know what my biggest fear is still."

The ex-Marine sighed and nodded. He knew. Just listening to some of the stories his co-workers related about their children or the friends of their children made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. There were so many pressures on today's teens to give up child-like ways sooner, to grow up faster, to experience things quicker. Many parents, nowadays, could only hope and pray the values and morals they'd tried to instill in their offspring would guide and sustain them when making difficult decisions. It sure wasn't an easy job and Jethro was glad he wouldn't be facing parenthood anytime soon.

He decided to head down a different track. "Does he have a girlfriend?"

"He's fourteen, Jethro," she looked at him as though he'd suddenly sprouted another head, "he doesn't need a girlfriend."

Jethro looked blankly at the woman for a second and then burst out a short laugh. "Candace, how old were you when you had your first boyfriend?"

"That's not the point..."

"Of course it is. How old?" He grinned when she began to squirm and was relieved when she cracked a crooked smile.

"I fell in love with Kevin Sweeney when we were in the sixth grade," she confessed, remembering the innocence and wonder of that first love. She stared pointedly at the man. "But we certainly didn't kiss or grope each other."

"You never kissed him?" Jethro continued to prod.

"Well, maybe a peck on the cheek but I was happy just to have him walk me to class or hold my hand. I never got physical with him."

"When did you meet Jimmy?"

She knew where this was heading. "That's not fair."

"Why?"

"Because it's different, that's all," she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I know for a fact you met Jimmy when you were a freshman in high school," he said softly. "Mike told me all about it, how your parents would worry and wonder if they were doing the right thing by letting you date him."

"I didn't go on my first real date until I was sixteen," she pointed a finger at him, her lips quirking into a grin.

"But you still got to see Jimmy outside of school, didn't you? Mike said he remembered riding in the car when your dad took you and Jimmy places and that Jimmy would come over to the house to study or watch tv."

Candace's grin broke into a full smile. "Darn my brother for his good memory. Yes, all right. I had a boyfriend when I was fourteen."

"Candace," Jethro looked squarely into her eyes, "it's normal. It's what we do as humans, seeking out a connection to those we're attracted to, wanting to spend time with those who please us, feeling our emotions develop and grow as we interact with them. Tony feels the same way, too."

Candace shook her head at the man, the smile slipping. "I can see this is going to be a very interesting visit."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No!" She exclaimed, surprised at his question. "God, no, Jethro. I think you're probably what we both need right now. I guess I'm so scared of Tony doing something stupid I've lost sight of what he may actually be going through as a teenager. To be honest, I think I could stand just about anything he might do except...well, you know..."

"Being sexually active?"

"Yes," the word came out in a rush and a slight blush tinged her cheeks.

Jethro recognized her modesty and wondered how she was going to survive the next several years, when the teenager's hormonal levels would start rising and he began his climb toward his sexual peak. "It's going to happen, Candace. You can't lock him away in the basement."

"Well, that's a thought," she managed a laugh and cocked her head to one side. "I don't suppose I could hide a cage from Child Services very well."

Jethro smiled and got to his feet. "Well, I can't wait any longer. Let's go wake the rascal. I'm not a bit tired now and I bet when Tony sees I'm here, he won't be able to sleep anymore either. Is that okay with you?"

"Sure," she agreed and let him pull her up from the couch. She went up the staircase slowly, allowing Jethro a chance to see more of the house. "I'm actually surprised he's gone to sleep so soon on a Friday night. He's usually here with his friend Josh, watching movies or playing videos games until they fall asleep around one o'clock or so. But I suppose Josh went to the party and they did have a baseball game after school today, so maybe he was just ready to get some sleep. Here's his room."

Candace paused in front of the closed door and knocked, waiting briefly before knocking again a little harder. "Tony?"

She looked to Jethro and shrugged. Knocking harder, she called his name again and, when no response came, she reached for the handle, freezing immediately when the knob would not turn.

"It's locked," she said in disbelief. "He...he never locks his door."

Jethro eased her away and used his fist to pound on the solid panel, his face close to the partition. "Tony? Hey, buddy, it's Gunny. Open the door."

The two adults waited a few seconds more, listening carefully for any sound from within the locked room. Nothing.

"He's not a sound sleeper, Jethro," Candace was visibly worried. "This noise would wake him in an instant."

"Did he act sick or different in any way at supper?" He searched for a logical reason while continuing to pound on the door.

"No, no," Candace was shaking her head, her face paling at the thought of Tony possibly being so sick he couldn't make it to open the door for them. "He was fine...angry at me but fine. Jethro, something's wrong!"

"Do you have one of those little allen wrenches that fits inside these openings?" He asked quickly, pointing to the small circle in the center of the handle.

"Yes, I think so," she nodded, one trembling hand pressed to her chest. "In a kitchen drawer."

"Go get it," he instructed, face still close to the panel, "right now."

Candace took off like a shot and Jethro concentrated on the door and the lack of sound on the other side. It could be the boy had merely fallen asleep listening to his Walkman or some other reasonable explanation but the ex-Marine had a feeling that wasn't the case tonight. Something else was going on here and he had a very bad feeling about it.

"Tony! Tony!" He continued to call for the teenager and pound on the door, shaking it on it's hinges.

When Candace reappeared, he swiftly took the small metal tool from her shaking hand and jammed it into the hole. The lock popped quickly and the two adults burst into the dark room, Candace pausing long enough to flip the switch on the wall by the door and Jethro striding over to stand next to the very empty bed.

"Tony!" Candace continued to call as she looked frantically around the neat room, even going as far as throwing open the closet and searching inside. She walked unsteadily back to the vacant bed, weak-kneed, and sat on the edge of the dark blue comforter. "Oh, my God."

Jethro's keen eyes took in the surrounding area, immediately noticing the gaping window and the large, sturdy tree just outside the opening, the huge branches strong enough to hold the weight of a wayward teenager. As much as he wanted Tony to be safe, he almost wished they'd found him in his room too sick or injured to respond to their persistent calls. Now, they were facing the only other possibility.

"Candace," Jethro turned to the distraught woman and took hold of both of her shoulders, waiting until her watery eyes rose from the empty bed and focused on him, "exactly where is this party?"

Twenty minutes later, Jethro found himself slowly cruising the unfamiliar streets, trying to make sense of the frantic directions Candace had given him. He'd left the distressed woman at her home, telling her to begin making calls, starting with Randy's house. He silenty cursed Tony for his stupidity and, more importantly, for putting Candace through this ordeal. What could the teenager possibly hope to achieve by doing something like this?

Just as he was about to turn down an almost-deserted street, he caught sight of a lone figure jogging easily on the sidewalk ahead on the right. It was a male but looked too tall to be Tony. Jethro was almost ready to try a different roadway when the male figure slowed to a brisk walk and, immediately, the ex-Marine recognized the loose-limbed gait. It *was* Tony. He drew closer to the boy, pacing his speed, and caught the quick glance thrown in his direction. It was obvious Tony was aware of the strange car following him on this darkened street and Jethro fleetingly hoped there was a spark of fear somewhere within him. Before the teenager could cross at the corner and elude a confrontation, Jethro pulled the vehicle forward to block his path and was quickly throwing the transmission into park, shouldering the door open, and rounding the car to approach the youth as he began to move in the opposite direction.

"Tony!" He yelled, stopping the teen in his tracks. Jethro watched as his voice was recognized, seeing the shoulders tense with apprehension and then droop in defeat. Whatever internal dialogue had been running through Tony's head was now completed. "Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?"

The teenager slowly pivoted and faced him squarely, watching as he approached with quick, angry steps. "Hello, Gunny. What are you doing here?"

Jethro gritted his teeth at the flippant greeting and stopped when he was directly in front of the boy. "I could ask you the same question."

Tony sighed and shrugged, stuffing his suddenly-cold hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "I'm heading home."

"You think it's just that easy? You disobeyed Candace's instructions and snuck out!" Now that Jethro could see the boy was unharmed and, apparently, unrepentant about his actions, the ex-Marine was furious, blood-pressure swiftly rising. He took a step closer, invading the boy's space. "What the hell is wrong with you? Do you think this is going to convince Candace to treat you like a responsible adult? Do you honestly think she'll trust you now? Or ever? I swear, Tony, I don't know why I even bother trying to take up for you anymore. All you seem to do is make one mistake after another!"

Tony listened to the tirade, unable to find fault with anything being said. Gunny was right: he had disobeyed Candace again, he knew she'd never trust him now, and he really had no idea why Gunny continued to advocate for him. He was a royal screw-up and deserved everything he was going to get, up to and including military school. Candace had probably already called his grandfather and made plans to get his sorry ass out of her life, once and for all. He felt a stab of pain in his gut and knew he'd miss her more than anything...she'd been the only mother he'd ever known and all he'd done was made her life miserable. He could feel tears forming and quickly fought them back.

"What do you want me to say?" Tony choked roughly, eyes scanning the man's red face, clearly seeing the anger and disappointment. "I screwed up big time, I know it."

Jethro looked into the teary green eyes and saw the misery but just couldn't find any sympathy in his heart for the boy right now. This wasn't a simple screw-up. Tony had managed a major fuck-up that would probably end very badly for all concerned.

"Just get in the car right now!" Jethro hissed tighly and wisely took a step back.

This was no child standing in front of him anymore. This person was visibly different from the boy he use to easily carry in his arms when the small legs got too tired or hold in his lap when he wanted a story read or simply craved a cuddle. Here was a young man, several inches taller than the last time they'd been together, smelling of alcohol, sex, and a hint of marijuana. Gritting his teeth and squeezing his hands into tight fists, Jethro didn't wait for Tony to comply to his order but turned and stalked back around to the driver's side of the vehicle and got in.

As he reached to turn the key in the ignition, Jethro felt Tony shift in the seat next to him and quickly place a cool hand over his, stopping the man from starting the car. They sat frozen like that for several seconds before the teeneager slowly removed his fingers from the unresponsive adult, a small, shaky sigh escaping.

"I'm so sorry, Gunny," the whispered apology was sincere.

Jethro sat back in the seat and turned to look at Tony, seeing the silent tears and the trembling bottom lip on the pale face. "I hope to God you had a real good time because this will probably be the last chance you have for freedom for a very long time.

Tony's mouth twisted into a bitter grin as the tears broke free from his eyes. "Oh, you know...it was just what I deserved."

Jethro frowned at the cryptic response and watched as the teen turned away, resting his face against the cool glass of the half-opened window. Instinct was telling him to get the youngster to talk, to find out what had happened, but he also knew Candace was waiting impatiently at home. Torn between what he felt was the right thing to do and what he really wanted to do, Jethro reached for the ignition and started the car.

After going only about a half dozen blocks, Tony suddenly spoke. "Gunny, stop. I need to go back to the party."

Jethro thought he'd misunderstood the abrupt request. "What?"

"I...I need to go back to the party," Tony repeated and turned to face the man.

"You can't be serious," Jethro wasn't stopping and the grip on the steering wheel tightened at the boy's audacity, his knuckles turning white from the intense pressure. He threw a quick, disbelieving glance at the youth. "Why on earth would I take you back to that party?"

"Gunny, please," Tony begged, "just stop the car and let me explain. Please."

"No."

"Gunny," the teenager sounded desperate now, "Josh is still there and he wasn't doing so good when I left. I...I forgot all about him until now. Please, I can't leave him there like that. He...he could really get into trouble."

"Is he drinking, too?"

Tony flushed with embarrassment but didn't look away. "No. He was...was smoking pot."

Jethro slammed on the brakes and Tony was glad he was belted in, the sudden pressure of the shoulder harness digging into his chest. Throwing the car into park, the man turned sideways in the seat and grabbed a fistful of Tony's shirt, shaking him where he sat.

"What kind of party did you go to?" He demanded an explanation.

"Gunny, I swear I thought it was just going to be a pool party. When I got there, I found out Randy's folks weren't going to be home all weekend and I was just going to stay for a few minutes..."

"But you decided to have a few drinks first, right? No sense sneaking out and not having a little fun."

"It wasn't like that!" Tony tried to defend himself.

"Well, tell me," Jethro scoffed, shaking his head at the teen, "what was it like?"

Tony gripped Jethro's wrist where the man still held onto the shirt. "It was the worse experience I've ever had, okay? I wish I'd never gone! If I could do it all over again, I'd be at home in bed. But I can't take any of it back and now I've got to face the consequences. I understand all that! But I've never seen Josh like this and, if he's gotten into something like I did, he's going to wish he'd never stayed there, too. Please, Gunny, I won't ask for anything ever again, I promise. Just...just let me go back and get him. Please."

Jethro listened to Tony's heartfelt plea and debated what to do. It was obvious the teen was concerned for his friend and, if the party was as wild as the man suspected, none of those kids should be there. What made the request so unusual was Tony's evident disregard for his own looming punishment. He studied the youthful face and nearly came undone when Tony moved his hand from Jethro's wrist, up the arm, over the shoulder, and lightly caressed his cheek, fingertips ghosting over the skin.

"Please, Gunny. Please." The soft entreaty poked a hole in his resolve.

Jethro shifted away and started the car, throwing a look back over his shoulder to check for oncoming traffic before making a tight u-turn in the street. He swallowed heavily, still feeling the teen's gentle touch on his face, and shoved down a flutter of confusion. He couldn't think about that right now.

"Thank you, Gunny," Tony kept repeating over and over. "Thank you."

With Tony directing, Jethro was able to find Randy's house with relative ease. As they came to a stop, the teen was jumping out, quickly shutting the door, and looking back through the partially-open window.

"Just give me five minutes," he pleaded.

"I'm coming in, too," Jethro was unbuckling his restraining device and opening the door. Before he could get completely out, Tony was at his side and blocking his way.

"No, Gunny, please," he put his hands on Jethro's chest and stopped him from going any further. "I...I need to do this by myself. I'm probably already the laughing-stock of the whole party by now anyway, so I'd rather try to salvage as much dignity as I can. If you go with me, I'll never be able to look at any of them again. Please. Just...just give me five minutes. If I'm not back by then, you come in and head for the back yard. That's where Josh was the last time I saw him. Okay? Gunny, just five minutes. Okay?"

Jethro studied the teen carefully. Something had happened tonight, something had changed Tony's perspective about things, and Jethro was certain it wasn't something good. The man brought his hands up to cover Tony's where they still rested on his chest.

"Five minutes," he agreed. "Go get your friend."

Tony noidded and took off, easily leaping over the low, closed gate at the end of the walkway and jogging up the bricked path to the door. The youth didn't bother knocking but just opened the entrance and let himself in. Jethro paced restlessly on his side of the car, throwing concerned glances in the direction of the door. He could plainly hear the sound of thumping music floating over the house from the vacinity of the back yard and knew the neighbors had to be going out of their minds from all the noise. He glanced at his watch as the minutes ticked away.

Just as he was preparing to go in, the front door opened to reveal a small group of teens, with Tony half-carrying a stumbling boy in the center. The group didn't follow the youth and his burden down the walkway but stood in the open doorway and threw several parting jeers at the visibly embarrassed boy. Jethro frowned at the display, especially when he heard a distinctly feminine voice announce 'the little freshman lost his cherry quicker than anyone she'd done yet' and joined in the loud laughter with the others. He saw Tony falter at the cruel words and mocking laughs and moved to help him with his load, briefly making eye contact and seeing the fresh tears on his face. Tony quickly looked away and, together, they managed to get Josh into the back seat, ignoring his idiotic requests for something to eat.

"Shut up, Josh," Tony finally scolded the other boy as he helped him get buckled in. "I don't have any peanut butter."

"Well, what do you have? I could go for some chicken. Hey! Weren't you gonna get me some food?" Josh slumped over to one side and mumbled into the cushion. He started to laugh and, as Tony and Jethro slid into their positions, he sat up and reached to poke Tony in the back of the head. "I heard you got laid!"

"Shut up, Josh!" Tony warned and swatted at the poking digit, angry at himself for getting into this mess. "Just shut up, okay?"

"Tony got laid, Tony got laid," Josh sang as he slid sideways again, giggling once more into the seat.

As they started home, Jethro saw Tony swipe at his face with the back of his hand and knew they were going to have to discuss what had occurred. The teen was embarrassed but he was also visibly upset and his babbling friend in the back seat wasn't helping matters at all.

"Was it Lisa?" Josh suddenly asked, once more upright and leaning as far forward as he could. "Was it? Buzzy gets her to do all the freshmen on the team every year, you know? Sort of like tradition, I guess. Come on, Tony, you can tell me... I'm your best friend. Was it Lisa?"

With his face tilted against the glass, Jethro didn't think Tony was going to answer. When he did, the ex-Marine felt sick to his stomach.

"Yes," the affirmation was a half-whispered sob and Tony seemed to curl in slightly, covering his face with his hands.

Oblivious to his friend's emotions, Josh crowed with delight. "I knew it! I knew she would get you, too! Buzzy told her to try and get both you and Charlie tonight and she had him out on one of the blankets long before you even arrived. Shit! Where'd she nail you? Come on, Tony, tell me."

Tony made himself sit up straight and took a deep, unsteady breath, shaking his head in resignation as he looked out the window. "The bathroom."

The response wasn't what Josh or Jethro expected but it was the teen who questioned the reply. "The bathroom?"

"Yes," Tony sighed and turned so he could look back at Josh, "and it was one of the worse things I've ever experienced, okay? She sat on the edge of the sink and I fucked her and...and it was all over in five seconds and she...she treated me like I was nothing. I thought...I thought she liked me but she was just doing Buzzy a favor! I was nothing to her. Nothing."

"Yeah but, dude, you got laid!" Josh restated, like it explained everything.

"You just don't get it, Josh," Tony shook his head and turned away from his stoned friend. "You just don't get it."

The rest of the trip to the DiNozzo home was completed in silence and, as they pulled up the drive, Josh was the first to speak. He leaned forward and started smacking Tony on the shoulder.

"Oh, shit! That's my parent's car! What are they doing here?"

"I guess Candace called them," Tony felt his gut clench as he said the woman's name, knowing he was getting closer to facing the one he'd hurt the most. He reached for the handle, pushed the door open, and stepped out of the vehicle.

"Oh, man, I'm in trouble now," Josh wailed. "What the fuck did you do, Tony? I thought you were my friend..."

Tony turned to face Josh as the teen staggered out of the car. "I am your friend. I...I couldn't leave you there like that but, I swear, I didn't know your parents were going to be here."

Josh made an awkward lurch toward the stunned teen, swinging wildly with one fist, trying to punch him in the face. Jethro was immediately around the car to help but Tony had it under control, easily deflecting the blow and wrapping his friend in a tight embrace, securing Josh's arms at his sides. The subdued boy tried to break the hold but was still too wasted to come anywhere being even slightly successful. After struggling ineffectively for several moments, Josh just gave up.

"I trusted you, Tony," Josh laid his tired head on one of Tony's shoulders. "Why would you do this to me?"

There was nothing Tony could say in his defense while Josh was still under the influence of the pot, so he just held on tight, knowing nothing would ever be the same between them again. He raised his eyes enough to see Gunny standing close and met the expressive blue gaze, clearly seeing the understanding reflected there. Squeezing once more before letting go, Tony stepped back.

"Let's just go in, Josh," he suggested, guiding his friend toward the front door, only now aware of the other adults standing on the porch.

Mr. and Mrs. Fitchetola looked angry but very relieved to see their son was all in one piece and walking relatively unassisted but Candace...oh, God...Candace's face said it all. Tony could read it in her eyes, could see she'd already made her decision, could tell nothing he said would make any difference. He thought he was prepared for this but, deep down, he'd hoped she'd be willing to give him just one more chance. He felt light-headed as he walked forward, knowing he was moving closer to the end of their relationship. The world was tilting under his feet. He stepped toward her, stretching a hand in supplication.

"Candace..."

"Your grandfather will be here in the morning," her voice was that of a broken woman, her pale face still streaming with tears of sorrow. "You may as well start packing now."

The words took away his breath and his knees buckled, collapsing the youth to the ground in a boneless heap. He sat on the cold, damp grass, head in hands, and cried openly in grief. He never felt Jethro kneel by his side or the strong, supporting hand on his back.

In his eyes, the world as he knew it was now over.


TBC