There's just something pretty magical about the first snowfall of the
year, something that calls to a place deep within a person's soul, a
place of wonder and of laughter and of sweet childhood memories. And
it doesn't really matter if the small, fine, descending flakes
resemble nothing more than tiny, drifting, winged insects or that
there may be no measurable accumulation to speak of...other than a
light, powdery dusting on metal railings or the cold steel of
automobile bumpers...but the sudden arrival of those pure, frozen,
crystalline particles marks the true change of the seasons and the
final move from autumn to winter. The trees are usually void of
folliage by the time those first flakes arrive, or very near it, and
their stark, empty branches lift up toward the gray, overcast sky
like outstretched, supplicating hands, seemingly reaching heavenward
for some divine recognition or blessing. The frequent blustering
winds howl and gust around obstacles and over landscapes, pushing the
discarded, fallen leaves into random masses of plump, feathery piles
or scattering them haphazardly until they resemble scurrying knots of
playful, tumbling children, hiding and seeking and racing toward some
unseen finish line or scrambling around in a friendly game of tag or
crack-the-whip. Or leap frog. Red rover, red rover, send oak leaf
right over...and elm and hickory, too.

There's an outward change in most people at this time of the year as
well. They develop a snap in their step, an extra bounce and energy
to their normal gait, and the air, itself, seems to bring rosy glows
to otherwise pale cheeks and exposed, unprotected noses. The simple
apparel of summer begins to change and disappear and bodies start the
not-so-subtle transformation into weather warriors, as gloves, hats,
and scarves begin to swiftly replace the occasional light-weight
jacket or stylish sandals, those flimsier garments now regulated far
to the back of closets and drawers to await an encore appearance
during the next spring or summer months. Long-sleeved shirts and
sweaters and heavy, woolen overcoats quickly become the standard
armor of choice and delicate skin only recently visible and exposed
to the sun and the wind and the occasional admiring eye now remained,
mostly, cloaked and covered for protection from the harsher bite of
the elements.

Casting his keen gaze outward through the large bank of clear windows
situated along one wall enclosing the bullpen area, Jethro Gibbs
followed the slow progression of a pair of weathered tugs as they
trudged steadily through the cold, muddy waters of the Anacostia and
thought distractedly about the rapidly approaching season. Today's
falling temperatures, overcast skies, and resultant scattered snow
showers, though totally expected because of the early morning weather
report he'd caught before leaving the comfort of his home, were still
not at all welcome. And although he'd never readily admit it to
anyone, the temperatures caused a fierce, aching flare of pain in the
joints of his aging knees...a pain that, somehow, was almost an
identical match to the one now pounding dully somewhere in the region
over his right eye. But, as much as he wished it true, he honestly
couldn't blame the cold or the dreariness or even the falling snow
for the throbbing in his skull; that special honor was reserved
strictly for the younger members of his team and their uncanny
ability to periodically rankle his nerves and to push his buttons.

Just like now.

Turning slowly away from the cold scene outside to face the object of
his thoughts...and his headache...Gibbs focused first on Ziva David,
her desk closest to his current vantage point, and let his eyes skim
over her form. Still in the process of removing her gloves and
twisting to shove them rather roughly into the deep confines of her
heavy coat's pocket, he caught a glimpse of a few stray, white flakes
clinging to the dark strands of her thick, wavy hair, glittering
wetly under the overhead lighting. She was an exotically attractive
woman...and remarkably dangerous behind that petite, feminine
facade...and he'd seen many an over-confident man fall prey to her
diminutive stature and disarming smile. She was currently standing
behind the padded seat at her desk, slowly removing the outerwear
she'd needed on her recent trek with Gibbs, and was returning his
gaze with an amazing mixture of disbelief and humor, her brown eyes
alight with an obvious glint of mischief. After spending a couple of
completely unproductive and extremely cold hours interviewing
potential witnesses for their current case, David had, somehow, made
the discovery of several short, dark hairs adorning his rugged, camel-
colored Carhartt jacket...hairs they both knew were not only not his
but, upon closer examination, weren't even remotely close to being
human.

And, by the look on her face, the discovery wasn't going to go
unmentioned...again.

"What?" He finally snapped her way, maybe a bit too caustically, and
got his feet to move, shrugging out of the damning jacket as he
proceeded toward the area of his own desk, situated in the middle of
the bullpen. He pointedly kept his eyes from settling on the other
two members of his team, knowing they'd witnessed his arrival and had
certainly heard the sharp tone of his voice, and resolutely kept his
mind on the task at hand. He slung the jacket casually over the back
of his chair, secured his weapon in the appropriate drawer, and sat
heavily down.

"Nothing," David smirked, her dark, dancing eyes belying the negative
response. She cast a quick look toward her closest teammate, saw the
questioning tilt of his head, but promptly ignored his silent inquiry
and chose to speak to Gibbs again instead. "It just seems
so...so...*strange*, that's all."

"What seems strange?" Tony DiNozzo couldn't contain his interest a
moment longer and leaned forward on his desktop, his bright eyes
shifting quickly back and forth between the newly-arrived duo.

"Don't you have work to do?" Gibbs barked at the younger man before
sending David another warning glance. He inwardly cringed at the
brusque tone of his own voice but continued nonetheless, glaring at
his senior field agent with a very familiar mask of ire. "Just mind
your own damn business."

"Oooookay..." DiNozzo whispered and shifted back in his seat, his
expressive, green eyes momentarily holding Gibbs' gaze before sliding
back to his paperwork. "Well, excuse me for breathing."

"Oh, come on, Gibbs," David persisted with a small laugh, her voice
rising a bit in volume, chosing to totally ignore the older man's
obvious discomfort. She could see Tim McGee was now avidly listening
to the stilted conversation, his youthful, inquisitive face filling
with genuine interest. "I'm just so surprised, that's all."

"Surprised?" McGee asked innocently, eyes shifting from face to
face. "Um, about what, exactly?"

"Do I *really* need to snap at you, too?" Gibbs threatened with a
huff and watched the younger man squirm but McGee never really seemed
to lose his interest. The older man signed tiredly and wondered just
when he'd finally lost his ability to strike fear into the hearts of
his people.

"No, Boss," McGee responded immediately, almost by rote, but looked
at David one last time.

Continuing to completely ignore Gibbs' extremely displeased
expression, David smiled across the distance at her young colleague,
and arched a coy eyebrow. "McGee, were you aware Gibbs has a cat?"

"What? Really?" He grinned and shifted his kind eyes from David to
Gibbs. "Boss, I didn't think you even liked cats. You really have
one?"

At his desk, DiNozzo produced some strange, muffled, choking sound
and managed to never look up from his work. By the slight tensing set
of his shoulders and the minute way he was carefully averting his
face, it was plain to see he'd heard the verbal exchange...and was
trying his darnest to stay well away getting involved in it.

As if...

Gibbs felt his headache ratchet up a notch. With grim determination,
he kept his face blank of all emotion, a trick he'd perfected a long
time ago for situations much more dire than this, and continued to
ignore the two agents still actively involved in this farcical
discussion...or whatever it was shaping up to be. All he had to do
now was ignore them and focus on the work.

DiNozzo quietly cleared his throat and, inwardly, Gibbs cringed,
waiting to see what would be forthcoming but, amazingly, nothing more
was heard from that corner. He wanted to look at the younger man but
knew, if he did, he'd either end up saying a few things he'd regret
later or end up sounding like a complete ass. Neither was an option.
Sighing again in resignation, he turned to face David.

"Yeah. I have a cat."

The simply stated affirmation was delivered with typical Gibbs
control, with typical Gibbs nonchanlance, and seemed enough to
satisfy their curiosity. There were several blessed, blissful moments
of complete stillness and quiet and Gibbs breathed a heavy sigh of
relief, thinking the matter was finally at an end. And, now that he'd
honestly answered the inquiry and was in the warmer confines of the
office, the tight throbbing in his head and knees was even beginning
to slowly relax and recede. Good. Now, if they all could just refocus
on the task at hand...

"But Gibbs," David's disbelieving voice seemed, somehow, even more
grating now, "a *cat*?"

Great. Just what he didn't need. The tension of the long, cold
morning returned with a vengence, coiling up tightly around his
shoulders and slithering slickly across the back of his skull. This
was not a conversation he'd ever thought of having while at work,
certainly not with these people, but, really, he should have known better,
especially with a healthy dose of DiNozzo tossed somewhere into the
mix. DiNozzo. It wasn't entirely fair to throw all the blame on the
younger man but, damn it, he was, ultimately, responsible for the
current situation. That scraggly, stray feline would still be
somewhere outside...in the falling snow, alone and cold...if DiNozzo hadn't
instigated and perpetrated an immediate rescue.

Well, fuck.

Gibbs took a slow, calming breath and steeled his voice into its
normal, unconcerned tenor, turning and favoring the woman with a
fairly blank stare. "So? Something wrong with that?"

There was another brief pause, a heartbeat of time only, before she
opened her mouth again, her eyes clearly reflecting her continued
skepticism. It was evident she was hoping for a clearer explanation.

"You just don't strike me as a cat person, Gibbs. That's all."

"A 'cat person'?" Gibbs inquired quietly, against his own better
judgment, letting the simple words roll off his tongue like silk. He
resolutely refused to give into the urge to glance toward the person
sitting directly across from the Israeli woman, even though the
tugging impulse was great. "Just what the hell is a 'cat person'
anyway?"

David huffed out a somewhat unattractive laugh, dark eyes dancing
again. "Well, certainly not someone like *you*, that's for sure." She
rose confidently from her seat and rounded the low desk, moving
across the small space separating their individual work areas and
stopping directly behind his computer monitor. She crossed her arms
in confidence and looked down into his placid, up-turned face. "It
just seems more logical, to me, if you were to own *any* type of pet,
it would be a dog."

"A dog," Gibbs repeated the word dryly. The idea of continuing this
asinine conversation suddenly irked him to no end but, for some
inexplicable reason, he let it go on, becoming keenly aware DiNozzo
was now silently soaking it all in...even though he appeared to be
hard at work. Oh, how appearances could deceive. The thought of the
younger man eavesdropping, while totally expected, seemed to take
some of the ache momentarily away and lighten his spirits
dramatically. He sighed softly. "Now, why would I own a dog?"

"Well, you can take a dog for a walk, Boss," McGee somehow decided it
was safe to join in from his own position at his desk, fingers poised
just over the keyboard as he offered an opinion. His wide, guileless
eyes held no mockery and Gibbs could plainly see the younger man was
attempting, in his own way, to be truly supportive and helpful.
Helpful was good...if someone really needed helping, that is. "You
certainly can't do that with a cat!"

There was a brief pause...and then...

"It'd sure look pretty freaky on the end of the leash," DiNozzo
mumbled wryly and Gibbs valiantly fought the immediate urge to laugh.
It was difficult enough to sit and listen to McGee and David go on
and on about pets but, if DiNozzo started in, he didn't think he'd be
able to control his emotions.

Both David and McGee flashed their muttering colleague a quick, sharp
look but basically chose to ignore his softly worded, glib opinion,
turning their collective eyes immediately back to Gibbs. There was no
indication in their boss' demeanor he had any feelings on the topic,
one way or the other, so they diligently pushed on.

"Dogs make such wonderful companions," David continued and
strategically positioned herself until she was at the corner of
Gibbs' desk, her slim body a virtually useless dividing wall between
DiNozzo and their supervisor. "When you come home from work each
night, a dog will be there, happy to see you, and will do everything
it can to show how much you were missed while away."

"Like chewing on your shoes and belts or crapping on your carpet
or..."

The soft, sing-song quality of DiNozzo's words floated easily over
David's head and she intentionally straightened her shoulders and
took another step closer to Gibbs, glancing quickly toward McGee,
obviously hoping to acquire a bit more of the young man's welcome
support. McGee looked at her expectant face blankly for several
seconds before finally catching on. When he did, he rose swiftly from
his seat.

"And...dogs...dogs are great home security devices, Boss," he was
warming to the topic, too, focusing on David's pert face as he joined
her by Gibbs' desk, purposefully ignoring the older man's stoic
expression. "You don't have to worry about burglars breaking into
your home..."

"...when they can just conveniently waltz right through your unlocked
front door any time they please."

"Tony!" Both David and McGee hissed their joint annoyance without
even bothering to look his way, hoping the bite of their tone would
dissuade him from speaking further. Yeah, right...

David added a little huffed, frustrated sigh, rapidly compossed
herself, and tilted her head a bit to one side, eyes catching and
holding Gibbs' slightly amused gaze again. "And let's really be
totally honest about the whole subject: I've seen your American
television programs...men like you are supposed to have dogs, not
cats."

"Uh, oh..." DiNozzo's almost-silent utterance seemed, somehow, very
prophetic.

Now, Gibbs got *real* interested, feeling certain David was just
about ready to place herslf in a very uncomfortable position...or
step in an extremely smelly pile of crap. He raised an eyebrow in
silent inquiry and waited for her to proceed.

"It's true," she seemed so positive, it almost hurt. Almost. "Most
single men whom own cats are portrayed as homosexuals and..."

McGee was instantly abandoning his position at her side and beating a
silent, hasty retreat back to the relative safety of his desk, hands
grabbing blindly for any paperwork he could quickly pretend to be
reviewing. DiNozzo coughed out another brief, stifled, choking sound
but, remarkably, never looked up from his own files, his broad
shoulders hunching slightly forward and his head slowly bending
downward to hide his expression even further. David suddenly found
herself without support, all alone in front of Gibbs' desk, watching
as the bland, disinterested features began to slowly morph into
something very different. Reflexively, the small woman took a short,
abortive step back and wisely kept her mouth shut.

"Just what exactly are you implying, Officer David?" The words were
enunciated perfectly, the tone calm and clear, the blue eyes steady
and tinged with only a minute spark of ire. Gibbs was completely
satisfied to let her dangle out there on the end of that imaginary
rope, to give her ample time to let her think about her allegations,
even though he was sure she'd delivered the information with complete
innocence and guileless intent. "Are you calling me a homosexual
simply because I happen to have recently acquired a cat?"

David bervously shifted from foot to foot. "Well, no, but..."

"You think that's the kind of assumption you should make without
knowing the specifics of the situation?" He continued with perfect
composure, not allowing her any real opportunity to explain further.
A lesson was a lesson, anyway it was looked upon.

"No but..."

"Do you just automatically assume *every* man you see with a cat is
gay...because of television?"

"No, Gibbs, of course not," she finally managed to get her mouth and
her brain to work in synchronicity. She fidgeted uncomfortably and
took a tentative step back toward the safety of her own work space,
her dark eyes sweeping briefly in McGee's and then DiNozzo's
directions, irritated to see how she'd been abadoned by them both in
her time of need. "I...I never meant to generalize with my words..."

DiNozzo coughed out a soft 'bullshit' into the curled hollow of one
fist and Gibbs was hard pressed to remain so taciturn and solemn, the
need to grin pushing hard against his resolve to remain stone-faced.

"...and only meant," her voice momentarily rose as she all but
sneered in DiNozzo's direction, her black eyebrows sweeping together
like two angry crows before finally settling as she focused totally
on Gibbs again, "you merely seem like the type of a person who'd
either own a dog or nothing at all." She swallowed and tipped her
chin downward for a moment. "I apologize for sounding so insensitive.
It was not my intent."

Gibbs studied her for several long, silently uncomfortable moments
before simply shrugging and looking away. "Okay."

David's mouth opened and closed wordlessly a few times, frowning
again at the man who was now all but ignoring her. "Okay?" She
managed to ask, her voice tinged with a healthy dose of
suspicion. "You accept my apology...just like that?"

"Yep."

David nodded warily at his usual, brief affirmative response, cast a
quick glance over to McGee, and then turned to hustle the rest of the
way back to her own chair, finally recognizing the importance of
keeping quiet. That was, of course, until she made the mistake of
looking in DiNozzo's direction and caught his quick, playful smirk.

"What are you looking at?" She snapped in hushed embarrassment, her
cheeks tingeing in an attractive shade of pink.

"Nothing," he grinned openly, flashing his trademark smile. "Just
wondering how you felt about men who own hamsters and ferrets, that's
all."

"Hamsters and ferrets?" She scowled, obviously confused again.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs snarled his warning, unable to look up, making sure
the threat was clear. "Don't make me take my weapon back out so soon."

"Right, Boss," he quickly responded, the light tone evidently
unrepentant, and the amused green eyes dropping instantly to the file
folder still open under his fingers. "Just trying to clarify a few
things."

"And you just never know when to shut up, do you?" A new voice
inquired blithely, the soft tenor of thr words like like a caress
than a condemnation.

DiNozzo's head shot up and he all but jumped from his seat, rounding
the desk like a hyperactive child storming the swing set at a crowded
playground, and enfolded the new arrival in a tight embrace, one
large hand patting the slightly shorter man soundly on the back.
There were muffled words of greeting exchanged, lost somewhere within
the curves of the necks and rises of the shoulders, and David forced
her eyes away from the sight of the two men to turn her curious gaze
back to Gibbs. It was obvious DiNozzo was very familiar with this
stranger, so maybe Gibbs could shed some light on his identity for
her and...

Gibbs had risen from his seat and was now just standing silently
behind his desk, watching the two younger men exchange their
boisterous greetings, his face carefully void of all expression, but
there was something dark and ominous blooming in the depths of his
cool, blue eyes that spoke silently and eloquently of some inner
turmoil. He caught David's curious gaze and blinked hard once,
instantly wiping all traces of emotion from his continence. He didn't
want or need anyone to see his jealousy...hell, he didn't even want
to *feel* envious of what he was witnessing...but there it was,
creeping up to bite him right on the ass. Hard. And worse yet, he
knew he couldn't possibly be in the same room with both of these men
and successfully continue to keep his emotions in check.

Forcing himself into action, he stepped back from his desk, yanked
his weapon from the drawer, and reached to snag a hold of his jacket,
dimly aware of the small, wet specks of drying snow that hadn't even
had the time to evaporate from the fabric. It didn't matter...he had
to get out of here...now.

"Stan," he grumbled while forcing a brief smile in greeting, "quit
playing grab-ass with DiNozzo...he's got work to do."

DiNozzo self-consciously pulled a bit away but, much to Gibbs'
continued displeasure, kept a friendly arm slung casually around Stan
Burley's shoulders and turned until they were both facing the older
man's position, watching as he stepped to the front of his desk.
There was an openness and ease to their shared posture and, as much
as he didn't want to admit it, the sight of them together almost made
Gibbs sick to his stomach.

Stan Burley was an attractive man, somewhere just shy of six feet
tall, and weighing in at a mean and lean one hundred and seventy-five
pounds. Built like the solid trunk of a healthy, young, oak tree, the
NCIS agent almost seemed to out-shine DiNozzo, his clean good looks
and boyish, natural, mega-watt smile was nothing less than a double-
shot of pure charisma, both charming and disarming at the same time.
His neatly trimmed and stylishly fashioned sandy-blond hair fairly
shimmered under the overhead lights and, teamed with the golden-tan
burnish of his smooth complexion, it was blatantly apparent he'd
recently been exposed to the warming rays of some tropical sunshine.
Exposed to and kissed deeply...like a cherished lover.

"Hey, Boss," he grinned in greeting and automatically turned on the
charm, stepping away from DiNozzo's side and extending his hand as he
moved toward his ex-supervisor. "How's it going?"

Gibbs returned the smile as best he could and took the offered hand
into his grasp, gripping firmly, and giving his former agent a quick
once-over, noticing the slightly flushed face under the youthful
features. This was a face he was very familiar with, one he'd seen
masked in a myriad of raw emotions...from despair to ecstasy...and
had blithely disregarded the one expression that'd appeared and
remained affixed until the younger man's final days in DC:
disappointment. Now, Stan Burley was back...and he was, somehow,
connected to DiNozzo.

Gibbs let his eyes slide over to glance at DiNozzo and immediately
noticed the slight nervous shift of the strong body and the small
frown forming on the smooth forehead. Interesting...

"It's going real good, Stan," he stated quietly and let the smile
slip away. "Listen, I was real sorry to hear of your father's
passing. If you need anything while you're here, don't hesitate to
ask."

"Thanks, Boss," it was plain to see Burley was deeply touched by the
sincere offer. He let his hand drop when Gibbs released his grip and
tipped his head back in DiNozzo's general direction. "Tony's going to
put me up at his place instead of making me go to a motel. As far as
anyting else, I think I'll be able to handle it okay. There's really
not too much to do."

DiNozzo took the moment to step forward and join the duo, lightly
bumping a shoulder against Burley's. "I've offered to help him
collect his dad's stuff from the nursing home after work today...that
is, if we can wrap up what we have at a decent time."

Gibbs grunted non-committedly, a sure sign he wasn't about to make
any promises for something like that. Realistically, they knew he
could send them all home whenever he saw fit but were wise enough,
now, not to push the subject, especially if they wanted to be away
from the office before midnight...or dawn...whichever happened to
come first. Gibbs was notorious for round-the-clock work sessions and
had no qualms of keeping his team going until he was completely
satisfied with the results, final reports and all.

As Gibbs started shoving his arms into the sleeves of his coat, he
caught DiNozzo's confused gaze. He frowned and offered his patented
snap. "What?"

"You're going back out already?" He asked, watching as Gibbs
positioned and deftly closed the zip. "You and Ziva just got back..."

"And now we're going back out again," Gibbs all but sneered. It
wasn't delivered any harsher than most of his usual shots but he
couldn't help noticing the slight tightening around the younger man's
mouth or the swift flash of hurt deep within the green eyes. He also
didn't miss the way Burley immediately took the opportunity to offer
his own wordless support by leaning again against DiNozzo's closest
shoulder. Gibbs fixed Burley with his usual laser-gaze and had to
work fairly hard not to make his next words sound too unsympathetic
or insincere. "Stan, it was good seeing you again. Wish to hell it'd
been under different circumstances but good nonetheless." Then ,he
simply tuned the slightly startled man out and refocused on his
assembled team, getting right back down to business. "DiNozzo, get
your ass down to Abby's lab and find out what sh's got on those
samples we collected earlier. All of them."

"Sure, Gibbs, but..."

He turned toward McGee and continued the assignments, now totally
ignoring DiNozzo. "Get down to Autopsy and have Ducky check Staff
Sergeant Iverson's x-rays once more. Closely. His widow says he broke
his right femur sometime during childhood and that's something that
should have shown up the first time his body was checked over."

"On it, Boss."

"Ziva," Gibbs actually pushed rudely between DiNozzo and Burley as he
moved closer to David's desk, glaring hard down into her surprised,
up-turned face, "get your gear. You're with me again."

The small woman made a dark sound of annoyance low in the back of her
throat but rose to do as bid, her fingers closing over her recently-
abandoned coat. She continued to mutter a quiet string of Hebrew that
probably contained a ripe curse or two but Gibbs was already moving
toward the elevator and just tuned her out, stopping only to smack a
palm against the call button positioned on the wall. From the back,
his posture was stiff and unyeilding, and he radiated more
aggrevation and annoyance than when he'd returned from his first trek
out only a handful of minutes ago. This was stupid...he knew it was
stupid...but he had to get out. Now.

He dreaded the return to the cold weather outside but, more than
that, he dreaded the cold he could feel creeping slowly into his soul
when he'd observed Burley with DiNozzo. He hadn't known they'd been
in contact since meeting years ago, hadn't realized such a close
friendship had develpoed between them, and certainly hadn't expected
to feel so *uncomfortable* with their casual touches and warm
smiles...smiles, he realized now, he really only wanted for himself.

As David finally joined him and the elevator doors opened to accept
them into the confines of the compartment, he entered and turned,
casting one, final look back into the bullpen area. His sharp eyes
immediately fell on the two male agents, watching as they moved
slowly away in the opposite direction, toward the staircase they
could use to descend to the labs below...and felt a shard of ice slip
coldly into his heart, just as Burley slipped a comforting arm around
DiNozzo's slightly drooping shoulders. Gibbs frowned and, as the
doors began to close, Burley turned his head just enough to make
direct eye contact with his former boss, the corners of his mouth
lifting in obvious pleasure. The hand he rested so gently on
DiNozzo's shoulder slowly slipped downward, across the fine, strong
back...

...and the doors sealed shut, blocking out the rest of the movement.
Gibbs instinctively reached out to halt the elevator's movement but
stopped himself at the very last moments, fingers fairly floating
over the slightly raised buttons. He pointedly ignored David's
curious glance. This was not the time nor the place to have any kind
of confrontation, especially since this was something he'd never
expected to feel when he'd begun the casual, though extremely
intimate, relationship with Tony DiNozzo.

Casual.

Gibbs snorted in derision, suddenly feeling like the world's biggest
fool. There was *nothing* casual about how he was feeling at the
moment and, as the elevator doors reopened and he moved toward the
building's exit, Gibbs finally stopped and turned to his companion.

"You know what, Ziva? Just go back inside. I think I'll just go get a
cup of coffee."

"A cup of..." David abruptly stopped her thoughts, placing a small
hand on the man's closest sleeve as they stepped out into the
cold. "Gibbs, are you all right?"

Taking a deep breath, he tipped his head slightly back and let the
fine particles of snow drift down upon his up-turned face, the flakes
landing like frozen kisses upon his warm skin. Gibbs couldn't
continue to ignore her obviously worried frown and shook his
head. "Or come with...I don't care...but I've had just about enough
of the cold for one day. How about you?"

David eyed the tall man a few seconds longer before coming to a
decision and, then, returned his smile tentatively. "I come from a
desert region, Gibbs...this freezing weather and I are *not* close
friends. A cup of hot tea sounds wonderful right now."

Gibbs twisted up his face in a moment of beverage mockery and then
angled his head in the direction of his favorite coffee shop. "Let's
go then."

As the duo walked briskly away from NCIS Headquarters, Jethro Gibbs
moved steadily closer to his own piece of mind. Let Stan Burley go on
thinking he possessed what Tony DiNozzo wanted, at least for the next
few days, but Gibbs was certain he held the key to what DiNozzo
needed...and want and need were two totally different things
completely. All he had to do now was wait and find just the right
moment to use the key in his possession to open that wonderful,
little box of need.

And, after all, the reward would, indeed, be worth the wait.
____________________________________

Friendships can be strange, incredible, almost undescribable
relationships, spreading slowly between a handful of like-minded
people or blooming instantly as two individuals make some quick,
intimate connection. These associations can be established for a wide
variety of reasons, factoring in anything as basic and uncomplicated
as a mere closeness in proximity to the much deeper and more
structured connections established as people join in ranks formed by
teams or organizations or even a particular work force.

Two children, when meeting for the very first time in a sandbox at a
local playground, may immediately form a connection simply because
they arrive bearing identical buckets and shovels, each preparing to
build moats and castles for the brave knights riding through their
imaginations. They join together in a wonderful paradise of make-
believe and innocence and laughter and, more likely than not, enter
into the activity without prejudice or preconceived notions and
without grand expectations from the other child. The sheer joy of
simply having someone to play with is enough reasoning to consider
them a good and trusted friend.

As humans age into their teens, they tend to look for more deeply
meaningful connections before calling someone a true friend. Gone are
the days of sand boxes and swing sets, gone are the afternoons
playing Power Rangers or Dora the Explorer, and gone is the easy,
open, immediate acceptance of an individual merely because he or she
may possess the same brand of sneakers or T-shirt or baseball cap.
Trust becomes an almost singular, primary issue and, without it,
there can be no meaningful, lasting friendship. Secrets are shared
and kept close, intimate hopes and dreams are revealed and discussed,
and there is a deepening bond that almost seems of a world all its
own. Parents are displaced and usurped as advisors and counselors and
the 'best' friend slides into that lofty position and takes on the
role once held strictly by a close adult. It is through these
youthful friendships and associations, during a time in human
development which is so important and so fragile, that can leave
invisible marks on a person for the rest of their lives...and those
marks can either help of hinder in the constructing of any healthy,
future relationships that come along.

The aging human learns to discriminate and examine, to consider and
evaluate, and, unfortunately, because of unhappy or painful past
experiences, will sometimes be unnecessarily wary of others who would
offer nothing more than simple friendship and camaraderie. There is
much to be said for the consideration, examination, and reflection
endured...and the reasoning is simple: the aging human heart, though
an extremely sound, remarkable, and powerful muscle, can be
exceedingly frail and fragile when it comes to the emotions evoked by
the concept of true friendship. Painful memories of childhood or
adolescent bonds lost or broken or damaged by simple separation or by
cruel, hurtful words or deeds can play an exceedingly influential
role, although the adult may truly be unaware of it. Because even if
the protective part of the brain chooses not to remember, the
damaged, injured heart invariably will.

"What are you doing, Stan?"

Though smiling brightly at her relocated ex-colleague, and watching
as he toyed restlessly with one of her skeleton-like figurines
perched atop a monitor, the growing suspicion in Abby Sciuto's voice
was clearly evident. She slanted her knowing eyes in his direction
and waited, sucking noisily at her iced drink, her full, dark lips
forming a tight, black circle of pure seduction around the slender
plastic straw.

Stan Burley glanced nervously in her general direction...and then did
an immediate double-take, his gaze homing in on her almost-indecently
active mouth, eyes widening at the erotic connotations swiftly
flooding his senses. Yeeowza! Abby had always been one sizzling gal
and it was apparent she hadn't changed much during the last few
years. He watched as she continued to suck the last of the liquid
from the large cup, his lids drooping slightly in reaction. He
*really* wanted to run a hand over his crotch right now but didn't
think she'd take too kindly to his blatantly sexual move. Or maybe
she would. Instead, he wisely opted to look up into her shrewd eyes
and immediately knew he'd telegraphed the intentions nonetheless.

Busted.

"What do you mean, Abs?" He asked as innocently as possible, forcing
his eyes away from her twinkling gaze and that dark, seductive,
smirking mouth...though he was still very aware of her perceptive
scrutiny. "I'm just sitting here, that's all."

Abby released the straw and huffed loudly, her pigtails brushing the
collar of her white lab coat as she shook her head in mock annoyance.
She took a moment to make a note on the tag of an evidence vial
before looking his way again.

"You *know* what I'm talking about. You've been here with me for well
over an hour and, even though I'm really enjoying the company, I can
tell you're about a gazillion miles away." She snapped off her
gloves, tossed them into a nearby bin, and stepped close to the
seated man, placing a hand on each of his shoulders. "And you've
managed to steer our conversation back to Tony every time it veers
away to something else. So, I'll ask again: what are you doing, Stan?"

Burley had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed. He shifted
once more and started toying with the figurine again...until Abby
snatched it from his fingers and dropped it elsewhere, well away from
his reach. Sighing, he turned his face back to his friend.

"It's not what you think..."

"And just exactly what do you think I think it is?" She interrupted
smoothly, releasing his shoulders and leaning a hip against the
counter by his side. She crossed her arms and grinned at his obvious
discomfort.

"Well, I...I think you think...I...that I," he trailed off and ran a
hand through his blond hair, a bit uncomfortable with the sudden turn
of their conversation. He squirmed again, releasing a huge
sigh. "Well, shit."

"Sta-aan," her voice slowly rose and fell as she broke his name into
two syllables, her grin widening as a slight blush colored his cheeks
and the tips of his ears. "I think you should just tell me before I
jump to any conclusions of my own."

"Like you haven't already," he huffed out a fairly self-conscious
laugh and leaned an elbow on the flat surface of the counter,
bringing their faces close.

"Well, I have to admit that 'goodbye' you exchanged with Tony before
he left had me pretty suspicious. It was a little bit more than just
a friendly see-you-later." One of her hands teasingly rose toward the
side of his face.

"I just...hugged him," he insisted, gently batting her fingers away
from his still-burning ear, "that's all."

"Yeah but it was a tight hug," she stressed, arching a knowing
eyebrow and allowing her grin to grow further. "A *very* tight hug."

"Well, he's my friend..." Burley tried to convince...and failed
miserably.

"*I've* been your friend a lot longer than Tony has," she wheedled
but continued to tease, "but you didn't squeeze me anywhere as hard
as you did him...or grab my ass!"

"I didn't grab his ass," Burley rolled his eyes at the absurd
accusation. "And the next time you leave...or I leave, for that
matter...I'll hug you exactly the same way. I promise. Okay?"

Abby studied him silently for a few moments and then her grin just
couldn't get any wider. "Bullshit."

"Abby," Burley spoke quickly, trying to gain some control of the
situation, "it's not like that. We e-mail each other, talk on the
phone sometimes, share some long distance laughs. Been doing it since
he, Gibbs, and Agent Todd helped me out on a case a couple of years
ago. When my dad..." he paused and swallowed back a sudden prickling
in the back of his throat, "when my dad took a turn for the worse a
few weeks back and I couldn't get here right away, Tony went to the
nursing home for me and checked things out, even had Ducky talk to
the nurses." He took a deep breath and looked her straight in the
eyes. "I owe him. Big time."

Abby reached out with one hand and rubbed his shoulder in small,
soothing circles. "That's so sweet, Stan. Sometimes Tony can just be
so," she pursed her dark lips as she cast about for just the right
word, finally settling with, "sweet."

"Yeah," Burley offrered a boyish, lopsided grin and nodded in
agreement, his ears pinkening slightly again. "Sweet."

The two, old friends allowed a moment of companionable silence to
fill the gap in the conversation, content within their own private
thoughts. Burley was certainly glad to be back on his old stomping
grounds, surrounded with people who'd meant so much during his first
years as an NCIS agent, and in a far better postion to make some
personal headway with DiNozzo...without the use of those damn, long-
distance communication devices. Still, he wasn't exactly sure if he
wanted to push the boundaries of the relationship.

"He's a good friend," the young agent finally offered quietly,
looking up into Abby's pensive face, wondering if she could sense his
turmoil.

"Oh, I'm sure he is," she agreed, pushing away from the counter and
stepping close to one of her machines, just as it began to spit out a
sheaf of paper. She snatched the document from the tray, scanned it
quickly, and then placed it to one side with an audible sigh, her
sharp mind easily processing many things at once. 'Multi-tasker' was
her middle name. "And, if you think about it, you both have so much
in common: two colleagues in the same agency, both, at one time or
another, recruited by and positioned under the same supervising
agent, and both very familiar with the stresses and pressures of the
job." She took a new pair of gloves from a nearby box and snapped
them expertly over her hands, glancing again at her companion as she
continued to work. "It's good to have someone to compare notes
with...maybe even share ideas," she looked deeply into his eyes, "or
even feelings."

Abby wasn't smiling now, her smooth, pale face as serious as Burley
could ever remember seeing it, and he swallowed nervously as she
continued to study him. He knew Abby and DiNozzo were close, had
listened as Tony talked about the young woman many, many times, knew
they shared a tight, solid friendship, but also knew the other agent
hadn't disclosed the depth of the relationship growing between them
to her yet. He sighed and tried to tamp back the stab of regret.
Honestly, there really wasn't anything to say at this point. Still,
it was slightly disappointing but entirely understandable. Burley was
assigned at Pearl and DiNozzo was here in DC...and that was just
about as far away as two people could get and still be in the same
country. If it hadn't been for his father's recent passing, Burley
knew it would have been many, many months before he and DiNozzo's
paths would have physically crossed again...if at all. He felt a hot
flash of guilt at that thought but, in reality, his father had been
all but gone for nearly six years, taken away by the terrible ravages
of Alzheimer's. His recent passing had been nothing but a blessing in
disguise and, now, the slow, dreadful disappearance of Herbert
Burley's laughter and brightness and all-encompassing love for his
only child was just a bitter-sweet memory for the son left behind.
Burley shook his head, clearing those thoughts away, and refocused
again on Abby.

"Tony and I talk about things," he said softly, reaching up and
gently tugging at the soft strands of one pigtail, capturing her full
attention, "every now and then. Just a few times a month or so, to
check in and see how things are going. That's all. We bounce ideas
off each other, share problems on cases, do a little brainstorming if
a problem arises. It helps, sometimes, to have a different
perspective, with someone not directly involved." He released her
hair, letting it slip between his fingers, and looked away. "You know
how it can be around here at times."

And Abby *did* know...but what went unspoken between them was the
real reason for 'how it could be around here at times': Jethro Gibbs.
Gibbs was the reason. He was the silent presence hovering around
everything and everyone under his supervision, past and present, and
no one escaped his reach...not even those assigned to NCIS at Pearl.

"So," Abby was nodding but looking to one side, "what you're telling
me is you and Tony are just friends...but you'd like for there to be
more." Her eyes quickly shifted back to his face. "Right?"

"Well..." the single word held a wealth of hope but his eyes suddenly
turned a bit bleak, "it's not like we're in a position to do anything
about it, even if we were on the same wave-length." He spread his
arms out wide to both sides. "Hell, I don't even know if he'd be
interested in a...significant...relationship with me. I mean," he
shook his head and let his shoulders droop, "from what I hear from
those around the building, he pretty much plays it straight anyway."

"Straight? Well, yeah, I guess," she shrugged in a very off-handed
way, "but it's not like he could just hit on any of the guys around
here...if he was bent that way."

"Yeah," Burley nodded and looked down, a deep frown marring his
smooth forehead, "I guess you're right about that. Still..."

"Look, why don't you just ask him, Stan?" Abby inquired passionately,
as if it was the most reasonable and logical solution to
everything...which, he mused, it probably was. "He just might
surprise you."

The thought suddenly scared him. "I can't do that! I don't want to
risk losing the relationship we *do* have." He rose almost angrily
from the stool and took a couple of paces away, turning his back on
the woman. "I don't even know why I'm discussing this here. This is
personal...and we both know how Gibbs feels about bringing personal
baggage into the work place."

"No, Stan, how *do* I feel about bringing personal baggage into the
work place?"

Gibbs.

Abby and Burley turned together so quickly, it almost seemed
rehearsed, as did the matching expressions of alarm on their faces.
They stared toward the open entrance of the lab, eyes wide in
undisguised shock, and tried to determine just exactly what the older
man had heard of their conversation...if anything. Gibbs was a tricky
bastard, able to maintain his cool facade of indifference...right up
until he decided it was time to reveal himself. By then, it was way
too late to run for cover; all a person could do was stand and let
the detonation peel the flesh and muscle right from the bone.

As always, Gibbs was the epitome of relaxation, hands casually tucked
into the pockets of his standard, dark NCIS jacket, and his pale,
knowing eyes drifting back and forth between the duo with an air of
complete nonchalance. Or so it seemed...

"Hey, Boss," Burley managed to get his mouth to work, just as Abby
sent a tsk of frustration the older man's way.

"You interrupting Abby's work, Stan?" Gibbs asked quietly, without
any heat, stepping closer to Abby's position. The underlying message
was crystal clear: he was evidently suspicious of the younger agent's
continued presence in the building.

"Gibbs!" Abby's smile was like the sunrise on a cloudless morning as
she beamed in his direction, her fingers lacing together within their
thin, latex confines. "You *know* I can do many things at the same
time: I work, I listen to music, I work some more, I e-mail McGee, I
continue to work, I text message my friend Adrian, I..."

She could see her response wasn't what Gibbs had hoped for, so she
wisely ceased speaking, barely holding in her grin when his quiet
growl of aggravation vibrated from somewhere deep within his chest.
Abby cast a swift glance at Burley and saw him avert his eyes, lips
pressing together in an effort to keep his own blossoming smile under
wraps. If anyone could deflect Gibbs from his mood, it was the young
Goth.

"Abby..."

"I'm on my way out, anyway," Burley broke in suddenly, keeping Gibbs
from saying anything else on the subject. "I thought I'd go on out to
the nursing home and get the rest of my dad's possessions." He
shrugged and shoved his hands into the pockets of his khakis,
mimicking Gibbs' posture. "There's no need for Tony to have to worry
about helping me after he gets off work tonight. I'll just call him
later and let him know."

Gibbs glanced down and then swiftly back up, seemingly coming to some
decision, eyes locking with Burley's. "Look, Stan..." he shifted a
bit before continuing, "I'm not going to keep the team here late
tonight. Why don't you just come by the house later? I'll fix some
supper and we can talk, maybe get caught up on things."

If Gibbs had just announced he was planning on putting on a short
skirt and a blonde wig so he could hit the clubs like a Paris Hilton
wannabee, Abby and Burley wouldn't have been more surprised as they
were by the simple, straight-forward invitation. Burley cast a quick
glance at Abby, saw her stunned expression, and then looked
immediately back to his ex-supervisor.

"Ah, I was..." he stammered for a moment before getting back on
track, "I was planning on...spending some time with Tony." He
hesitated and swallowed when Gibbs' eyes darkened. He hustled to
explain. "We'd already planned to have a late meal tonight, so..."

"Well, I'll *tell* DiNozzo to join us then," Gibbs responded in a
flash, the wording a bit sharp, before abruptly turning away and
heading back toward the doorway. He never looked back but he barked
the rest of his instructions tersely over a shoulder. "My place.
Seven o'clock. Don't be late."

And he was gone. Abby and Burley stood silently, side by side, for a
few moments, eyes locked on the now-empty doorway, each still trying
to absorb what had just transpired.

"Well," Abby finally snorted and shook her head in bemusement, "what
was *that*?"

"Damn if I know," Burley all but whispered, eyes still glued to the
entryway. He visibly shook himself and looked back at his
friend. "Abby, do you think..." he paused and huffed in obvious
confusion, "do you think it's possible that Gibbs has feelings for
Tony?"

Abby tilted her head to one side. "Well, duh. Gibbs has feelings for
*all* of us. He's like our big, bad, papa bear, looking out for his
cubs." She turned back to her computer. "He gets mad, he growls, he
scolds, he pushes, he cajoles." She whirled back around and held her
arms out. "He's Gibbs! You remember what he was like when you were
here. Well, nothing's changed."

Burley took a step nearer and sucked in a deep breath, shaking his
head. He *clearly* remembered what it had been like for him when he
was Gibbs' senior field agent, had carried those intimate
recollections with him all the way to his next assignment, and had
spent many a restless night trying to forget. He ruthlessly pushed
those thoughts away once again and focused on the here and now.

"No, Abby, that's not what I mean. He seems...oh, I don't
know...maybe a little jealous."

Abby froze, eyes going wide, her mouth opening and closing
soundlessly a few times before any words emerged. "Jealous? Gibbs? Of
what?"

"Of me and..." he sighed and shrugged his shoulders in
defeat, "...and Tony."

Tipping her chin slightly downward, Abby coyly looked up at her
firend from under her dark, full lashes, a bit of an evil grin
playing at the corners of her mouth. "Ooooohhh...you and Tony, huh? I
*knew* there was a 'you and Tony'!"

"Abby..."

"You like him," her tone was almost sing-song.

"Abby..."

"You like him a lot," definately sing-song now.

"Abby..."

"You like him and, now, you want to get busy with him," almost ready
to launch into an opera.

Burley stepped close and placed a hand over her mobile mouth, feeling
her lips immediately quirk against the curve of his palm. "You're an
evil woman, Abby Sciuto, and just need to keep all those wicked
thoughts to yourself. You hear me?" He waited until he got a lone,
mischievous, affirmative nod before letting his hand drop slowly
away. "What I want has nothing to do with what Tony may or may not
want and I sure don't want to open my mouth and screw with what we
*do* have. I value his friendship...very much."

Abby tilted her head slightly to one side, face almost angelic in the
ambient light thrown from a nearby monitor, and eyed Stan Burley with
honest, open affection. Unable to resist the impulse, she launched
herself into his arms, a hum of fond satisfaction vibrating in her
throat, like the purr of a contented cat.

"Oof!" Burley teased as he easily caught her, strong arms wrapping
tightly about her body. The young Goth was far from being a small,
petite, wisp of a girl and her lean strength and solid musculature
was never more evident than when she made unexpected moves like this.

But it sure was nice.

Burley allowed one hand to slip to rest just above the curve of her
ass and let a small chuckle escape. "You know, Abby, if I didn't like
playing for the other team so much, I think I'd be tempted to see how
far I could get with you!"

"As if..." she snorted and pulled back only far enough to look
comfortably into his smiling face, settling more into the loosened
embrace. "You like chasing all the Baldwins and centerfolds around
town too much."

"I don't do that anymore," he stressed hastily, wincing at her
wording. "My days doing the circuit or cruising the clubs are long
gone...have been for a while now." His eyes grew serious as he
studied her face. He sighed deeply and shook his head. "Can you
believe it? I think I'm ready for something more now."

"Something more...with Tony?" Abby's question was almost whispered,
immediately looking for the truthfulness in Burley's expression.

He ducked his head and, when he lifted it again and looked directly
into Abby's eyes, she could see the answer, as clear as the smile on
his handsome face.

"Yes."

***********************

Parking the rented car in the open area directly in front of Gibbs'
home, Burley slipped the key from the ignition and clutched the slip
of metal tightly in his grasp. He let his eyes roam swiftly up the
vacant drive, down the quiet, tree-lined residential roadway, and
back behind in the rectangular mirror attached to the windshield.
Gibbs would have parked his vehicle in the garage but there was no
sign of anyone else here yet. Glancing a bit irritably at the
timepiece strapped to his wrist, the young agent frowned and shook
his head. Damn. Four minutes until seven and Tony's car was nowhere
to be seen.

"Well," Burley sighed in resignation, "on with the show."

Stepping out of the vehicle and taking just enough time to make sure
it was locked up tightly behind, Burley pocketed the key and let his
easy stride take him up to Gibbs' front door. As he raised a hand to
knock against the carefully painted and preserved wooden surface,
memories arose unbidden and he quickly let the fist uncurl, easing
forward until he could rest the flat on his palm on the snooth
partition instead. He'd been here before, standing on this modest
concrete porch, feeling a wide range of emotions as he got ready to
face the older man but, this time, the sensation was something akin
to embarking on a journey into the unknown...without his pants.

And *that* thought was just a tad too scary.

Shaking his head at his own reluctance, Burley eased his hand down
further and grasped the handle, twisting once, and pushing the wide
door open. *Some* things never changed...or so it seemed. He smiled
and stepped into the foyer, automatically slipping out of his jacket
and hanging it indifferently on the knob of the nearby coat closet,
just as he use to do when he'd paid visits in the past. It would piss
Gibbs off when he saw it, make him snarl a bit, and give him the
chance to bark out the directive to 'hang the damn thing up properly'
*inside* the closet. Yeah, definately...some things never changed.

"Gibbs!" He called tentatively, unbuttoning his shirt sleeves at the
cuffs and rolling them up to mid-forearm, determined to get as
relaxed and comfortable as possible. He cast a quick glance toward
the open basement doorway and smirked. "You up or down?"

"Up," a familiar voice responded from somewhere in the direction of
the kitchen, followed by the appearance of Gibbs' head and shoulders
as he looked around the door frame. "Come on in."

"I'm already in," Burley mumbled but did as ordered anyway and
followed the disappearing figure back into the cooking area. He was
instantly assaulted with the fragrant aroma of something rich and
spicy and immediately knew what was cooking within the big pot on the
stove's surface. Burley stepped forward and moved directly toward the
range, homing in on the covered container, smiling as he carefully
raised the lid. "Oh, please tell me this is your mother's chili
recipe."

"Do I make any other kind?" Gibbs snorted at the absurd idea, took a
pull from the bottle in his hand, and then gestured with the it
toward the refrigerator. "Help yourself to a cold one."

"Thanks," Burley recovered the bubbling mixture and went to liberate
a Sam Adams from cold confinement, twisting the lid off as he turned
to watch Gibbs continue working at the counter. The older man was
mixing together a batter of something pale and lumpy in a bowl just
to one side of the stove. "Corn bread?"

"Yep."

"Great. Anything I can do?"

"Nope."

The two agents were quiet for the few moments it took Gibbs to
complete the preperations in his usual competent manner, his strong
hands sure and steady. Once he had the mixture poured into a hot
skillet and replaced into the equally hot oven, he turned his steely
blue gaze on Burley, shifted a hip to rest against the lip of the
counter, and took another long, slow sip of his brew, eyes raking the
younger body from head to toe as he swallowed...and then proceeded to
lazily lick his lips.

Burley's eyes widened and he shifted under the scrutiny, feeling like
he'd just been charted to be someone's after dinner dessert. He
cleared his throat softly. "Looks like Tony's a little late."

The silver head moved a bit from side to side but the eyes remained
fixed. "No. I told him to be here at seven-thirty."

Burley felt his throat go dry and quickly brought the small, round
opening of the bottle to his lips in a quest for moisture, valiantly
trying to keep himself from shifting nervously again. The
implications of Gibbs' simple statement could be interpreted in a
variety of ways and none of them were all that appealing to Burley at
the moment. Taking another quick swallow of the cold ale, he forced
himself to turn casually away and walk the few steps to the round
table near a window overlooking the fairly decent-sized backyard.
Pulling a chair out, he sat down and looked back at the other man.

"May I ask why you did that?"

"I think you and I are overdue for a little talk, Stan," Gibbs
announced softly, his voice taking on a hard edge. He, too, moved to
the small table and sat down but only after making sure his chair was
pulled close to Burley's and was well within the other man's personal
space. "We need to talk about DiNozzo."

Huh.

Burley nodded and leaned back, trying to put a bit of distance
between him and Gibbs without deliberately appearing to do so. Yeah,
right. Like that would happen.

"Okay," he ageed, ignoring the smirk his movement caused. "What's on
your mind?"

Gibbs' smirk vanished and he carefully put his bottle of beer on the
table's surface, right next to Burley's. "I want to know what your
intentions are with him."

Burley froze for a moment, thinking he'd heard incorrectly. When the
sheer absurdity of the remark finally caught up with him and
registered, he was laughing straight into Gibbs' face before he could
even attempt to contain it.

"Are you kidding me? My 'intentions'? What is this, high school, and
me asking to take your daughter to the prom?!"

Burley immediately wished the words back, remembering Tony's recent
story concerning Gibbs' first wife and child, but it was too late for
that now. Obviously. He sucked in a quick breath and shook his head.
He would never do anything to intentionally hurt the older man. Never.

"Gibbs..."

"Forget it," Gibbs snapped and put them right back on the topic,
tapping the surface of the table near the bottles with a rigid
finger. "You and DiNozzo...how long you been talking to each other?"

"A few years. Gibbs, what..."

"A few years," Gibbs immediately cut him off, repeating the answer
and mulling over the words. "And just how 'friendly' are you two?"

Burley huffed and shook his head. "Just what are you asking me?"

"Answer the damn question, Stan," Gibbs bit out, his eyes going cold.

"Why?" Burley was beginning to get a little ticked off now
himself. "Just what does it matter to you, anyway?"

"It matters because I know how you like to screw around."

"How I..." Burley gritted his teeth, shaking his head in
frustration. "That's so unfair! You haven't even seen me or talked to
me since that case aboard the Enterprise! You can't just..."

"Can't what?" Gibbs snapped, voice taking on that low, dangerous
quality. "I *know* you, Stan. I know, firsthand, what you're capable
of doing. I've seen you in action..."

Burley slid forward on his chair, closing the space and getting right
back in the older man's face. "Well, see...that's the first correct
thing you've said to me since we began this asinine conversation. You
*have* seen me in action because you've *been* in action with me..."

"That's the past!"

"My point exactly!!"

"But DiNozzo's not 'the past' with you, is he?" Gibbs just wasn't
going to let this go. "He's in your 'now'."

"And you don't like it," Burley agreed without saying the words.

"And I don't like it."

And there it was. The silence was frosty and stretched tight and just
as Burley was about to open his mouth to let Gibbs know exactly what
he thought about *that* little tidbit of information, he found
himself jerking quickly up out of his chair and dancing painfully
away from the table.

"What the fuck?!" He hissed, fingers seeking out the stinging spots
on his right calf, eyes searching the shadowed area beneath the rungs
of his recently vacated seat.

A flash of black darted from under the table and scurried hastily out
of the kitchen, heading directly for the open basement door. Burley
could only watch, mouth agape, as it scooted to find a more secure
and safe haven somewhere in the darkness below. He turned
disbelieving eyes back to the still-seated man and tried to get his
mouth to work again.

"A...a cat?" He all but gasped. "You...you have a...fucking *cat*?"

Gibbs smirked. "Don't think she's done any fucking yet but, yeah, I
got a cat." He took another swig of his beer and looked down to where
Burley was rubbing at his wounded leg, seeing a few spots of blood
appearing on the tan cloth of his slacks. "She scratch you?"

"I...I think she bit me," Burley was still too amazed to take it all
in.

Gibbs pushed away from the table and ambled over to a cabinet near
the sink, reaching in and pulling out a compact first aid kit. Once
back at the table, he sat down and waved a hand toward the injury.

"Hike your pants up and let me have a look."

As if they'd never exchanged harsh words or been in the middle of a
pretty ugly disagreement, Gibbs waited patiently until Burley pulled
the cuff of his khakis up far enough to expose the little cat's
revenge and tried to get his first real good look at the wound. Gibbs
instructed the younger man to put his foot up on the seat of the
chair, directly between his spread thighs and easier to reach, and
dabbed at the puncture marks with a sterile pad saturated with
peroxide, wiping smears of blood from the skin with careful hands. As
far as bites went, it wasn't much to brag about but the germs carried
within a feline's mouth could play havoc with human flesh and tissue.

Burley was the first to break the silence, relaxing a bit with the
feel of Gibbs' sure hands on his leg. As angry as he'd been, he just
couldn't help but tease with a whisper of an inquiry. "You teach her
to do that?"

Gibbs grinned at the question and grunted. "She's a cat, Stan. Don't
imagine I could teach her anything."

"Oh, I don't know," he said a bit wistfully, "I think you could do
just about anything you set your mind to." He watched the blue eyes
slowly rise and hold before they dropped back to the leg again.
Hesitantly, the younger man reached out and laid a tentative hand
gently on one of Gibbs' shoulders. "Boss, I think you need to tell me
about your relationship with Tony."

Gibbs' fingers stilled but his head remained angled down and Burley
couldn't see the older man's expression. Regardless, there seemed to
be some internal struggle taking place.

When they finally broke loose, the murmured words were almost
inaudible. "There's nothing to tell, Stan."

"Gibbs..." Burley sighed and tried again, deftly sliding his hand
from the strong shoulder up to the side of the bent neck, fingers
touching warm skin. "Jethro."

The older man's head rose and, this time, the blue eyes were clearer.
Gibbs cupped the wounded calf in the palm of his hand, feeling the
fine, crisp hairs under his fingertips, and sighed softly in
resignation. He never realized how much he missed Burley, until given
the opportunity to see him again...just as he had when called to help
aboard the Enterprise several years ago. That reunion, though nothing
like what they'd had while working together here, certainly had
revived all the memories of times they'd shared.

And reminded them both of why they'd eventually drifted apart.

As good as Burley's hand felt against his skin right now, Gibbs
recognized this wasn't the touch he'd been craving. Not now. Now, he
had the thought and the taste and the feel of someone else ingrained
in his senses and being here with Burley was only a painful reminder
of what he'd just about thrown away...again.

Not wanting to do anything to drive the wedge of discontent back
between them so soon but needing to explain what he was feeling as
best as he could, Gibbs turned his face just enough to press his lips
to the inside of Burley's wrist, feeling the steady beat of the
younger man's pulse under the fragile skin there. He looked up and
saw Burley bending at the waist, coming closer...

"Stan..." he said softly.

"Am I interrupting?"

The voice took them both completely by surprise. Jerking his head
toward the sound, Gibbs all but pushed Burley's foot from the area
between his legs in his haste to rise, and turned to face the
intruder. Burley stumbled slightly, knocked sharply against the
table, and accidentally sent the two half-filled bottles toppling
over, the yeasty liquid splashing out and running across the solid
surface, only to drip unnoticed to the floor below.

"Tony!" Gibbs spoke in surprise, eyes flicking automatically to the
clock on the stove's top. Seven twenty-six. Well, shit.

DiNozzo's face was unreadable but the tension in his stance was
evident. The cool green eyes quickly traveled back and forth between
the two men, keen gaze taking in their close proximity, the slight
flush on Burley's face, and the absolute look of guilt on Gibbs'. The
younger man pressed his lips together in a tight, thin line and
focused on his superior, totally disregarding the other agent's
presence.

"I should have known," he said softly, shaking his head slightly in
self-loathing. "I should have fucking known."

Turning abruptly, he was gone.
_______________________________

This was not good. In fact, this was nothing more than just plain
fucking God-awful.

By the time Jethro Gibbs had gathered his stunned wits, thrown Stan
Burley a terse but succinct order to stay put in the kitchen, and
finally got his own two feet into motion, Tony DiNozzo was already
out the front door and well on his way back toward his parked car.
Gibbs silently cursed his older joints and muscles as he hustled to
exit through the still-opened entryway and jumped the few steps from
porch to lawn, ignoring the slight twinge of protest in his left knee
as he landed solidly on the grass below. He just had to reach DiNozzo
before he had the opportunity to get away...and he just had to have
the chance to explain.

"Tony!" He pitched his voice carefully into the evening's dimming
light, not wanting to cause a stir of unnecessary alarm for any of
his nosey neighbors.

At the sound of his name, DiNozzo stumbled slightly, an irregularity
in the walkway's paved surface catching him by surprise, but
recovered quickly and hastened to put as much distance between
himself and the man now somewhere too close behind. He didn't want to
see Gibbs or talk to Gibbs and he sure as hell didn't want to
*listen* to Gibbs. Not now...and, maybe, not ever again. But as
quickly as he wanted to make a clean escape from this intolerable
situation, DiNozzo's usual grace and sure-footedness was confounded
by the distinct lack of sufficient outdoor lighting and the watery
veil of angry, disillusioned tears blurring his vision. The
combination proved to be his downfall and, once more, he staggered on
the uneven ground.

The former Marine managed to reach out with one, flailing hand and
snag the hem of DiNozzo's flapping jacket as the younger agent
lurched clumsily across the front of Gibbs' yard just a few scant
feet from the curb where he'd parked only minutes earlier. The sudden
and unexpected jerk on the fabric low on his back threw DiNozzo off
stride and he stumbled heavily to one side, reflexively swinging a
defensive arm up and around, ready to ward off his supervisor with a
clenched and ready fist.

Gibbs was prepared, too, expecting just that kind of maneuver, and
ducked smoothly under the arcing arm, grabbing a fistful of the
younger amn's shirtfront and pushing roughly until they both collided
hard with the side of DiNozzo's vehicle, the solid impact forcing the
air from their lungs in an audible, grunting 'whoosh' of a sound.
DiNozzo took the brunt of the contact against his back and shoulders
but instinctively tried to buck away from the pressure, vainly
attempting to shake free of the hold. Tenacious as ever, Gibbs held
on, turning until he was virtually pinning his subordinate with the
bulk of his own body against the rigid, unmoving metal behind.

"Tony!" Gibbs hissed as the younger man continued to ineffectively
push and wrestle for freedom, the agent's usually smooth face twisted
into an almost unidentifiable mask of pure anguish. "Stop!
Just...stop!"

"Get the fuck off me!" DiNozzo was livid, eyes flashing hotly,
fighting the older man with every ounce of energy he still possessed.
He panted and squirmed and thrashed, shoving a hand hard under Gibbs'
jaw and forcing it up and to one side. "Just get the fuck off me now!"

Gibbs twisted his face away and rolled again, throwing a leg out and
positioning his muscular thigh and hip strategically against
DiNozzo's body. Silently and fervently hoping he wasn't about to do
his agent any permanent damage but knowing his window of opportunity
was closing rapidly, he easily called upon his vast skill and
remembered training and levered them both over to one side, the move
immediately sending them crashing heavily to the ground.

As close as they were to DiNozzo's parked vehicle, there was just no
way to totally avoid one of them getting clipped by the concrete curb
and, when it happened, Gibbs felt the impact almost as soundly as the
younger man who actually did. He winced in sympathy but continued to
hold on securely, waiting anxiously to see if the unexpected and
harsh contact had injured or addled or, hopefully, been somehow
effective in subduing his agent. This just had to stop now, one way
or the other.

When DiNozzo's momentarily-stunned body slackened a bit from its
continual, straining resistance, Gibbs scrambled quickly and surged
up, straddling the prone body beneath and planting his ass firmly in
the middle of the heaving chest, pressing his knees down on the
trapped arms below. He fisted his agent's hair tightly, hands to each
side of the sweating head, and held on, face hovering just inches
away.

"Damn it, Tony," he hissed irritably, angry with DiNozzo, angry with
Burley, angry with himself...hell, just plain angry with everything
in general...and did his best to calm his racing heart, "don't do
this! Just stop fighting me for one minute and listen to what I have
to say!"

DiNozzo arched feebly under the weight of the older man's bulk and
all but spit back, physically down but still plenty mad. "Why the
hell should I listen to you? What could you possibly have to say to
me now that I haven't figured out for myself?!"

"I could say plenty!" Gibbs kept up the pressure and rode out the
bucking and wriggling and squirming, making sure the younger man was
unable to find any leverage to throw him off. He shook the head
trapped in his fists, ignoring the wince of pain that blossomed in
the furious, devastated eyes, and leaned more forward, bringing their
noses close together. "But you have to hear me out. Just...just calm
down and listen to me!"

"No, you fucking bastard! I...I listened to you months ago when we
started this...and I listened to you a last week when you reminded me
again of how...how things were going to be between us but, God *damn*
it, I didn't really *understand* what you meant until just a few
minutes ago!" DiNozzo all but yelled out his frustration, angry tears
running down the sides of his face to mingle with the sweat along his
hairline. He gathered his strength and tried one, final time to
dislodge Gibbs from his perch, arching his back and attempting to
roll, grunting out a long, deep, straining groan in the process.

In the end, it did no good.

Falling back and going slack, DiNozzo panted and gasped for breath,
letting his eyes slide shut so he didn't have to look up into the
face hovering so close. He didn't want to see those clear, blue eyes
or that cap of silvered hair, he didn't want to be reminded of what
that rasp of fine stubble could feel like against his bare skin, and
didn't want his last memory of being held by Gibbs to be like this.
Because there was no mistake now: this was the end.

"Tony..." Gibbs tried again as he felt the fight go out of the body
in his grasp and finally let the soft strands of hair slip from
between his fingers. He eased back but didn't get up. "Tony...please,
just let me explain."

"Please?" DiNozzo's eyes flashed open at the sound of the unfamiliar
word. He blinked the last of his tears rapidly away, voice harsh and
strained. "You're...you're saying 'please' to me now?" He choked out
a disbelieving laugh but there was nothing remotely amusing in the
sound. "Get the fuck off me, Gibbs."

"Will you at least give me the chance to explain?" He tried to wipe
the moisture from one of DiNozzo's cheeks with the backs of his
fingers but found the tender gesture immediately rebuffed.

"Don't!" DiNozzo hissed angrily, green eyes flashing hotly
again. "Don't you dare touch me like that!" He moved restlessly,
trying to raise a lone shoulder. "Just...just get off me..."

"Will you listen to me if I do?" Gibbs asked again, almost at a loss
on how to proceed. Almost.

DiNozzo huffed again, shaking his head in aggravation, teeth
clenching tightly. "What are you going to do if I say no? Sit on me
all night?"

"If I have to!" Came the quick rejoinder. And just as swift, Gibbs
shook his head in frustration and sighed, yeilding to the stupidity
of the situation. "No. No, I won't sit on you all night."

As easily as he could manage and ignoring his still-twingeing knee in
the process, Gibbs moved. Swinging a leg over and clearing the body
beneath, the former Marine sat back on the cool grass, just inches
away from the younger man, and retained his hold on the fold of
fabric of the closest sleeve. He was off but he wasn't ready to
surrender his possession completely...not just yet.

DiNozzo breathed a bit easier with the man's weight removed from his
chest and carefully rolled slowly to one side, away from Gibbs,
coughing quietly to clear his lungs...and to covertly wipe a hand
across his face. He didn't want to look back, didn't want to hear any
of Gibbs' lame excuses...and he sure didn't want the older agent to
see how devasted this last blow had been to his self-worth. He tried
to pull his sleeve free from the grasping fist but only succeeded in
having the grip tighten even more. He sighed in resignation and
cleared his throat.

"Talk," he instructed with just the slightest of rasps.

Gibbs paused before beginning, not liking their relative
positions. "Will you at least turn over so I can see your face?"

"No."

The quiet but definative response brooked no argument. So, with
nothing but the long line of DiNozzo's back to gaze at and the feel
of the fine weave of the younger man's jacket in his fist, Gibbs
attempted to put things into their proper perspective...or, at the
very least, back on the right track.

"I don't know what you think you were seeing back in the kitchen," he
began softly. "Stan and I have known each other for a long time,
probably before you even knew about NCIS but, Tony," he shook the
sleeve with deliberate care, "there's nothing between Stan and me any
more. We were friends...good friends...at one time. That's all."

"But there was something more, wasn't there?" DiNozzo swiftly
interjected, eyes focusing sharply on a spot near the back fender of
his car. He peered intently through the gathering darkness but his
mind was somewhere far, far away. "Were you fucking Stan when he was
your senior field agent?"

Gibbs cringed at the question. There was no going back and there
certainly could be no lying to cover up the past. If there was any
way to salvage anything of this screwed-up relationship he had with
DiNozzo, it had to be with no deceptions and no half-truths. Dropping
his chin in resignation but keeping his voice steady, he answered the
only way he could.

"Yes."

DiNozzo's breath momentarily hitched in his aching chest but he
swiftly released it back into the night, eyes sliding shut as another
emotional wedge was driven soundly between them. Why did the truth
sometimes have to hurt so bad? Swallowing thickly, the younger man
nodded and angled his chin slightly up toward his shoulder.

"You never lied to me, Gibbs," he whispered in anguished
understanding. "I know that now. From the very beginning, you were
honest and told me what you wanted out of our relationship and
I...well..I guess I was just listening with the wrong part of my
anatomy. Not too bright sometimes, am I?" He added rhetorically, a
clear measure of self-distain apparent in the soft voice.

It was the same old disagreement that'd repeatedly surfaced between
them more and more over the past few weeks and, now, it was the same
conflict tearing them apart. What DiNozzo wanted was at direct odds
with what Gibbs expected...or had. Now, the line was beginning to
blur somewhat.

Gibbs tugged affectionately at the sleeve again. "Come on...sit up,"
he instructed gently, "or you're going to end up with grass stains
all over your expensive clothes."

DiNozzo slowly pushed himself into a sitting position but kept his
head angled downward, still not willing to meet the older man's eyes.
Blindly, he pulled against the restraining hand and was relieved when
Gibbs relinquished his hold, rolling his shoulder to settle the
garment back in its proper position. He cleared his throat again
before speaking.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, finally lifting his gaze. He could see the
immediate rebuttal forming in Gibbs' eyes but quickly shook his head
and continued. "No, just listen to me. We both came into this
relationship with baggage and, I guess, I just thought I could get
you to change your mind." He laughed bitterly and huffed. "Fuck, I
sound like some woman now, expecting to get her man to change his
evil ways."

"Tony..." Gibbs tried to get a word in but was instantly stopped.

"I tried to make you jealous when I came to your house after my date
last week," the younger man confessed, embarrassment making him
glance briefly off to one side. To his credit, DiNozzo forced his
eyes back to the other man before continuing. "I...I wanted you to
know I'd been intimate with someone else."

"I know you did," Gibbs assured and shook his head sadly.

He wanted to be able to soothe away some of the pain he could see in
the pale face before him but, unfortunately, the words he was hoping
to find just seemed too far out of his reach. He'd never been any
good at this kind of confrontation and, after losing a wife and a
child and then totally screwing up three other marriages because of
his inability to open up completely for another person, Gibbs had
embarked on a path of solitary purposefulness, void of emotional
attachments and free of complicated relationships. The periodic
sexual releases he'd found with men and women over the years had done
nothing more than satisfy a physical need and, in reality, that's all
he wanted to find...until DiNozzo.

Their attraction to each other had been almost instantaneous, right
from the initial introduction...as had the clear signals that the
younger man would be willing to take their relationship into deeper
waters. Gibbs had been unyeilding in his expectations and demands
and, when they'd finally quit dancing around each other and given in
to the lure of their desires, they'd made only as far as a darkened,
secluded corner of the parking lot late one night after work and
jerked each other off in a hasty rush of lust. Gibbs had been sure
he'd finally found a suitable partner for his lifestyle: a competent
and willing fuck-buddy.

He hadn't expected DiNozzo to feel any differently though, especially
when talk of the younger man's appetites and conquests continued to
make the circuit around the office, rising to almost mythical
proportions at times. DiNozzo was a known player, an ego-stroking
pleasure seeker, a man with seemingly no qualms about jumping from
one bed to the next...as long as the partner was attractive enough.
DiNozzo was perfect for his needs.

Then, the slight changes began to appear: DiNozzo started to be the
last one out of the office each night and would wait patiently around
for some sign from Gibbs, hope dancing in his clear, green eyes. He
would stand too close or brush innocently against the older man at
the most inopportune of times, sending hot, sizzling gazes in his
wake and silently daring Gibbs to do something about it. He began
making calls late at night, while Gibbs was alone at home, working on
his boat, and instigate erotically lurid sessions of phone sex,
driving them both to aching completions, his more than competent
grasp of language frying Gibbs' brain into overload. But he also
began bringing a warm sense of belonging, of companionship, of tender
playfulness that Gibbs hadn't experienced in a very long time...

...and it all went totally against everything Gibbs had promised
himself he'd never let happen again in his life.

Gibbs wanted to be through with the rough and ragged complications of
romance and just finish out his life cruising smoothly on the placid
waters of Lake Non-Commitment. The small wake DiNozzo began to make
threw him completely off balance and sent out the warning flags, so
he'd done the only thing he'd known would work successfully and
settle his life back on an even keel again: he'd pushed the younger
man away. He'd ignored the hot glances, he'd stopped answering his
phone at home, and when he'd succumbed to the naked allure of
DiNozzo's raw sexuality, he'd made sure there was no gentleness or
kindness or, God forbid, affection in what he did. He willingly took
the body but left the soul untouched...or so he thought.

Gibbs gazed at the silent man before him and sighed. "I'm sorry, too.
Tony. I'm so sorry I couldn't give you what you wanted, what you
deserve. I think..."

"Gibbs!" A strident voice called from the still-open doorway,
demanding immediate attention.

Burley stood uncertainly at the threshold, shifting from foot to
foot, his eyes peering out into the rapidly darkening night. Gibbs
sighed and gestured for DiNozzo to stay put and struggled to his own
feet.

"What?" He barked irritably as he moved a few steps closer to his
front porch, not wanting Burley to come any further outside and
intrude anymore than he'd already done. He and DiNozzo were far from
finished with their conversation.

"Your cat," the younger man explained with meek regret. "She just
launched herself from the basement and got out this door before I
could close it."

"Well, shit," Gibbs gritted his teeth and immediately began looking
around, knowing how difficult it would be to find a black cat outside
at this time of the night. He turned back toward DiNozzo and saw the
bad news had been heard.

Rising gracefully and brushing absently at the seat of his pants,
DiNozzo immediately began his own search and rescue. "Here,
kittykittykitty..."

"You stay by the door, Stan," Gibbs directed with an upraised
hand, "she just may get scared enough and decide to run right back in
all on her own."

He heard an amused snort of disbelief from DiNozzo's direction and
allowed a small smile to escape. Yeah, it was highly unlikely the
little feline would willingly go back in of her own accord,
especially now that she'd been released out into the raging wilds of
suburbia, but they had to at least give her a chance.

"I'll take the area around the shrubs...Tony, you take under the
cars," Gibbs instructed gently, still aware of the tension floating
around the younger man.

All he got was a curt nod of assent before DiNozzo did as directed,
going easily to one knee and bending at the waist to peer under the
dark carriage of his vehicle. If the cat got up under a wheel well or
perched on the exposed rod of the drive shaft, she'd be in a whole
world of hurt once he got ready to leave. The thought of that soft
bundle of purring fur laying broken or dead, especially by his own
car, made him wince and swallow hard. He stopped the search only long
enough to recover a flashlight from his trunk and dropped back down
for a more thorough inspection.

"I think I saw her head off toward the right," Burley offered,
keeping a hand on the door frame but leaning his body outward,
looking over by the row of neatly trimmed hedges dividing the
property line.

Both Gibbs and DiNozzo straightened up from their positions and
started in that general direction, eyes glued to the ground and
searching for any sign of the wanderer. They called out softly for
the still-nameless feline, making all the appropriate, quiet noises,
walking slowly and as non-threatening as possible.

Gibbs kept stealing glances in DiNozzo's direction, his mind failing
in focusing on the task, his mind a whirlwind of turmoil. When the
sound of rustling leaves came, low and just to his left, he jerked
slightly in surprise and chastised himself for not paying closer
attention.

"I think she's here," he murmured softly toward DiNozzo, vaguely
aware of the younger man instantly coming his way, and reached
carefully to separate the thick branches of the low-growing shrubs.
Even though it wasn't raining, it reminded Gibbs of the night she'd
been rescued the first time.

"You'd better hope it's not a skunk," he heard the younger agent's
soft voice warn, immediately grateful for the tone of teasing he
could barely detect.

He came very close to forgetting all about the damn cat right then
and thought about just pulling DiNozzo into a rough embrace, barely
stopping himself at the last moment. No, it was better like this for
both of them. Just get the cat, put her safely back inside, and
*then* continue with the conversation.

The rustling came again and Gibbs grabbed for the squirming mass at
the scruff of the neck, holding her up so DiNozzo could see. "No,
doesn't look much like a skunk to me."

"But a real stinker, nonetheless," DiNozzo huffed, shaking his head
at the pitiful, dangling creature, and reaching out to stroke her
small, perfect head. "You bad girl. You've got a good home
now...there's nothing better out here for you."

Gibbs started to tuck the feline up under an arm but, suddenly, she
was squirming and arching away, digging her claws in just enough to
gain some leverage, and launching herself away from the older man's
grasp...and straight into DiNozzo's chest. The move was so swift and
so unexpected the younger man took a shocked, involuntary step back,
hands awkwardly rising to grab hold, his arms instinctively forming a
cradle for the ebony bundle.

Eyes wide in disbelief, DiNozzo could only stare down at the now-
purring feline. Gibbs, too, was flabbergasted.

"Well, I'll be damn," Gibbs whispered softly, smiling at the cat's
defection. He watched as DiNozzo lifted the cat close enough to rub
his cheek along the smooth, slick head and chuckled when she nuzzled
the startled agent right back, her quiet purr of contentment growing
louder. He raised his eyes to DiNozzo's face and couldn't miss the
wistful, sad expression. "Tony..."

"Here," DiNozzo interrupted and was suddenly handing the cat back,
his expression closing off and going blank. "I need to go now."

"We still have things to discuss," Gibbs reminded, uneasily accepting
the now-docile cat, worried about what he was seeing.

"No, Gibbs," the green eyes were full of resigned acceptance, "I
think we should have stopped talking long ago. It's okay...really."
His gaze shifted back to where Burley was still standing in Gibbs'
open doorway. "Stan's a good guy. Tell him...tell him I'll call him
sometime later...after I've had the chance to wrap my head around all
this."

"Tony..."

"Gibbs," DiNozzo sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets and
looking briefly away. When he turned back, Gibbs could clearly see
the decision had been made.

It was over.

The older man shifted but never looked away. "You're sure?"

"Yes."

They remained frozen on the spot for several heartbeats, eyes
searching, a million unspoken words screaming for a voice, until
DiNozzo finally nodded and turned away. The short walk back to the
car took no time at all and, before Gibbs even had the chance to
think clearly again, he was gone, taillights growing dim and finally
winking out in the distance.

Two weeks later, Tony DiNozzo turned in his official transfer papers
and was off to a new assignment for NCIS, far away from DC, far away
from Pearl, and far enough away that he didn't have to be reminded
daily of what he might have had with Gibbs. And on that very same
day, after an intolerable and emotionally-draining session at work,
Jethro Gibbs opened the front door of his home and could only watch
in helpless disappointment as the agile, black cat scurried out past
his legs and took off down the street, headed in the same direction
DiNozzo had taken only two weeks prior.

The former Marine stared in silence from his porch, the little, dark
body growing smaller and smaller, until she, too, was gone from
sight. Sighing once, Gibbs turned away and went inside, shutting the
door and throwing the latch, and, for the very first time in
countless years, he locked the world away.


FIN