Waiting was a necessary part of life, but never something that Jethro had embraced; especially when he had other things to do. Patience was an enforced virtue for him, a necessary evil. Waiting for his superiors to find the time to see him when theyíd been the ones to call in the first place was more irksome than, say, waiting for Tony to decide what to have for lunch. The main difference being that he couldnít bully Morrow into getting his ass in gear.

"Heíll see you now, Agent Gibbs."

Jethro smiled briefly at the admin, never one to take out his frustration on innocent bystanders, and walked passed her desk into the large office that Director Tom Morrow, head of NCIS and his boss, occupied. The shorter man stood when Jethro stopped at his desk and they shook hands before sitting, one to either side of the desk.

Never one to beat around the bush, Morrow said, "Youíre being recalled to active duty."

Blinking in surprise, Jethro didnít react at all, at first. Then he simply asked, "Why?"

"An undercover mission that calls for your unique skills," Morrow explained, looking faintly like something tasted bad.

"That sounds like a load of crap."

"Thatís because it is. Here, look at this."

Jethro took the thick file and opened it up, jaw tightening as he started reading.

"You knew that it was going to come back and haunt you when you did it," Morrow pointed out, wry.

Grimacing, Jethro replied, "I was hoping for a few more years before it did."

"Time heals and allís forgiven, if not forgotten?"

"Something like that. Iím guessing this isnít something that I can refuse."

"Not without dishonorable discharge, plus a blacklisting which would preclude you working for me or any other government agency in the future."

"Yeah, that figures."

"Look, Gibbs, Iím sorry about this. I fought to stop it, butÖ"

Holding up a hand, Jethro half-smiled and said, "Itís okay, Tom. I brought it on myself."

Sympathetic, Morrow replied, "If it helps, youíll be getting hazard pay and double earn time accrual for the length of the mission."

"No, it doesnít." Looking Morrow in the eyes, he stated baldly, "What will help is when this is done, my name is taken off every God damned list that itís ever been on so I donít get tapped again."

Morrow nodded slowly and said, "Iíll see what I can do. Take that home and study it. Youíre plane leaves in two days."

* * * *

Something was off-kilter and Tony knew it, but he couldnít figure out what.

Gibbs had been quietly working at his desk for the last hour. And, while that alone wasnít enough to set off the alarm bells, couple that with the fact that the older man hadnít once scolded him and Kate for their morning ruckus, which had actually been louder than usualÖ

Glancing sidelong at Gibbs, Tony saw that heíd moved on from year-end reviews to some other mystifying paperwork that manager-types had to fill out and keep up to date. Not, normally, something to worry about except that Gibbs never did them until he, himself, was almost on report for not doing them. He was never on time, let alone early, in passing in shit like that.

A blank email with the header, ëwhatís up with Gibbs?í popped up and he grinned. Opening it, pointedly not looking at Kate as he did so, Tony typed, ënot a clue. getting nervous, though. he just finished up our year end reviewÖthree months early.í He hit send and waited for a response.

Not thirty seconds later, he got one that said, ëokay, now Iím scared. Are we getting canned, or what? go on and make some trouble. harass him into telling you whatís going on.í

Snorting, Tony typed, ëwhat are you, nuts? contrary to popular belief, I am not a glutton for punishment.í

Only fifteen seconds until the reply, ëyeah, right.í

"If the two of you are done passing notes, I have an announcement to make."

Jumping slightly in surprise, Tony looked over at where Gibbs leaned against his desk, eyeing the two of them with familiar amusement. He hated it when the other man snuck up on him. He was a trained professional, damnit, why couldnít he ever hear Gibbs sneaking up on him? Silently grumbling to himself, Tony declared innocently, "We werenít passing notes."

"Tell it to someone who doesnít know better, DiNozzo," Gibbs returned, a faint smirk hovering.

Kate stepped in smoothly with, "What announcement?"

"Hold that thought," Gibbs said, looking towards the elevator.

Tony followed his gaze and the elevator doors pinged open, expelling Ducky and Abby, who walked over them. From the minor frown besmirching Abbyís face and the lack of expression on Duckyís, they didnít know what was going on, either. Which could only be bad, he decided. Ducky always knew what was going on in Gibbsí life and his head, it was an unwritten but universal law.

Once the other two had stopped at his desk and Kate got up from hers to come closer, Gibbs looked around the semi-circle, lips twisting into an approximation of a smile. That alone would be enough to send Tony running for the hills, but he stayed put, knowing that something momentous was about to happen.

"Iím taking a medical leave of absence."

For a few seconds, Tony was convinced that heíd heard wrong.

"For details that I donít really want to go into, itís become temporarily necessary for me to step down from my duties," Gibbs continued. "Itíll probably be a couple of months before an official replacement is named, so in the meantime, Kateís in charge of the team. And itís no reflection on you, DiNozzo, itís because sheís got more managerial experience than you do. And I really donít want to see what youíd do to the forms that need filling out on a regular basis. At least with Kate in charge, thereís a chance theyíll get done."

Tony was too shocked to be wounded about getting passed over for the lead position. Words were literally denied him as he listened to Kate, Abby, and Ducky simultaneously demand a more in-depth explanation.

Holding up a hand, Gibbs exclaimed loudly, "Hey!"

Silence, as usual. Everyone stared at Gibbs with various degrees of shock and suspicion and Tony absently made a mental note that Kateís played with thumbnail when she was nervous or upset. His full attention never really left Gibbs, though, and he stared blatantly at his boss. The older man looked at each of the others, but didnít meet his gaze, something that sent Tonyís stomach right into the basement.

"For the record, I will be staying with a friend of mine in upstate New York until the situation is taken care of. I do not know how long Iíll be gone, but it will be at least six months, possibly longer. I am not dying. I have no intention of dying. And I am damn sure not retiring. Itís a medical leave of absence, meaning, I will be back, and I will kick your asses if you donít maintain the standards that Iíve beaten into all of you since youíve come to work for me. Ducky and Abby excluded," Gibbs amended, flashing the older man and goth tech each half a smile.

"Hey!" Kate exclaimed, indignant enough for both her and Tony.

Tony, however, was still reeling and could only ask quietly, "When are you leaving?"

Gibbs finally looked directly at Tony for the first time since his opening words. There was something in those pale eyes that Tony didnít recognize, but it was gone too fast to figure out as Gibbs replied, "Now. I wanted to tell you all in person as well as finish up some loose ends."

Feeling very alone all of a sudden, as if Gibbs was already gone, Tony questioned, "How do we get in touch with you?"

The answer was a flat, "You donít."

Inexplicably hurt by the response, and the exclusion, Tony didnít say anything else as the others took over the conversation. There was definitely something more than off-kilter about the explanation. A medical leave of absence couldnít be the real reason Gibbs was leaving, not if Ducky was as upset as he appeared to be. Tony didnít know what was going on, but he felt in his bones that the other man wasnít going to some friendís house in upstate New York.

When the others wished Gibbs well and the agent picked up his coffee mug to leave, Tony met his gaze and again saw that emotion that he couldnít identify. Frowning, he was going to say something, but Gibbs turned sharply away and headed for the elevator.

The last he saw of Gibbs was the stony expression not looking in his direction as the doors closed.

* * * *

"Jethro! If you would be so kind as to wait a moment?"

Damn. Almost made it, Jethro thought, grimacing to himself. There was no way that Ducky was going to believe anything he said about being sick enough for a medical leave. Ducky had known him far too long and was much too observant. Lips twisting, wry, Jethro said as the other man approached, "Youíre taking the stairs a lot faster than you used to."

A brief grin surfaced as Ducky replied, "Keeping up with a younger lover does tend to bring physical, ah, stamina into question."

"No need to go there Duck."

"No, I didnít think so," Ducky replied, the smile fading. "Are you going to tell me whatís really going on?"

"Nope."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Nope."

"Any ETA on your return?"

"Nope."

"JethroÖ"

Holding up a hand, Jethro apologized, "Iím sorry, Ducky, but I canít tell you anything."

Ducky sighed. "So there is something to tell. I thought as much."

"Just do me a favor and keep an eye on everyone, all right?" Jethro asked, his thoughts lingering on Tonyís hurt expression.

Shaking his head, Ducky commented, as if reading his thoughts, "Young Anthony is going to be very upset when he realizes that youíve kept him out of a very important loop."

A bit helpless, Jethro agreed, "Yeah, I know, but I canít help that."

They were silent for a while, then Ducky held out his hand. Jethro took it and found himself pulled into a short, but tight, hug. When Ducky stepped back, his professional mask was in place and he said, "God speed, Jethro. Take care."

"I will, thanks Ducky," Jethro replied, offering him a wan smile.

He turned and walked away, feeling Duckyís eyes on him the whole way. Pushing the encounter to the back of his mind, Jethro got in his car and drove out of the garage. There was a lot left to do, and not enough time to do it.

* * * *

Jethro looked around the busy park filled with people happily going about their lives. Families, couples, individuals, all of them doing whatever it was that normal people did when they had time off. Being in Georgetown, there were even a few gay couples discretely holding hands as they wandered through the greenery, alone in their own private world of each other.

"I almost didnít think that youíd show."

Snorting, Jethro didnít even look up as the other man sat beside him on the bench. "Now why wouldnít I? It isnít like I had a choice in the matter, what with being reactivated and ordered to go on the mission."

"True. Where are your bags?"

Finally looking at Ari, the agentís ease setting his teeth on edge, Jethro replied, "In my car, over there. You have someone to drive it back to my house?"

"Of course," Ari agreed, dark eyes sparkling mischievously. "Tell me, how is Kate doing these days? Iím sure she was difficult to say goodbye to, all those suspicions of hers so close to the surface."

Remembering the hurt look in Tonyís eyes, Jethro thought, Not as difficult as it was not saying goodbye to Tony. Aloud, he merely said, "They all bought it, hook, line, and sinker."

"Shall we?"

Jethro nodded, grim. "We shall."

They fell into step as if theyíd worked together for years, which was really depressing. He didnít have to ask why Ari had demanded his presence on this mission. Shooting the agent in the spot where he and Gerald had been shot by Ari was Jethroís justiceÖand revenge, he had to admit. Ari had been right when heíd said that Jethroís pride had been hit at his infiltration, but it wasnít in the fashion that had been assumed.

He hadnít been able to protect his people and had let a threat get loose, that was what had been driving him to find Ari. If there was one thing that Jethro had always been able to tell himself, it had been that those he loved most, were the safest. Ari had taken that away from him and that had had to be answered for with blood, even if it hadnít been as much as Jethro would have liked.

Reactivating and taking Jethro away from his life through a call of duty was Ariís own personal form of justice and revenge, he knew that, too. The combination of rubbing Jethroís nose in it had been a bonus, he was sure.

Jethro was tempted to just ask for another bullet in the shoulder; it was less damaging than undercover work.

* * * *

Tony woke abruptly, heart thundering painfully in his chest and his body shaking with a realization. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he scrubbed his fingers through his hair, trying to calm down. Staggering out of his bedroom, he headed for the kitchen and turned on the coffee maker in the dark, his hands moving automatically as he kept replaying the image of Gibbsí looks to him in the office.

He recognized the emotions now and was kicking himself that he hadnít at the time: regret and fear. It had taken so long to figure it out because heíd never seen either of them on the other manís face, never mind both at the same time.

Staring at the blinking light of the coffeemaker in the dark, Tony went over what he knew.

1 - NCIS wonít let someone who isnít physically fit stay in Gibbsí position. Not with all the fieldwork that we do. Therefore, itís not all that likely that heís going on a real medical LOA.

2 - As far as I know, Gibbs doesnít have any friends in New York, and thatís something I would definitely know.

3 - Gibbs has severed all ties with friends and coworkers, going out of his way to make sure we donít even try to contact him. And to make sure we know that he isnít going to contact us, either.

Undercover work, has to be.

The coffeemaker beeped at him and Tony automatically went over to the cabinet to pull down a mug, thoughts still swirling slowly. It wasnít likely that heíd be anywhere in the area on the chance that one of them would run into him, either in the course of an investigation, or by happenstance. He knew from personal experience that a familiar face could blow an op just because of the agentís reaction to the unexpected appearance of someone from their ërealí life.

Deep undercover, then. But what the hell would an ex-gunny be doing in undercover work? Itís not like Gibbs is ex-covert ops or anything. Even with his experience, itís not too likely that heíd be tapped for something a trained operative could do better. So what the hell is going on? What makes Gibbs so special that he has been tapped?

Pouring his mug full, Tony set it on the counter and padded silently to the phone, dialing Abbyís home number.

It rang a few times before her sleepy, querulous, "What!?"

"Abs, itís me. Somethingís wrong."

Instantly alert, Abby asked, "Whatís going on?"

"Gibbs is in trouble."

Worried, she demanded, "What? What kind of trouble? Did he call you?"

"No, he didnít," Tony admitted. "When he left today there was something in his eyes when he looked at me. And I didnít place it before because Iíd never seen him look like that, I mean, really, I donít think anyoneís ever seen Gibbs look like that before, so can you blame me that it took a good, uh, what time is it? Well, okay, itís been about twelve hours and yeah, my subconscious had to get involved, butÖ"

"Tony! Are you drunk, or high?"

"Abby! Iím serious here!" Tony exclaimed.

She sighed and there were rustling noises like she was moving around in bed before she asked, "Serious about what, Tony? You arenít making any sense."

"Gibbs was afraid that he wasnít coming back. I saw fear in his eyes today, Abs, real fear."

Silent for a long moment, Abby finally questioned in a small voice, "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Tony confirmed. "I think heís gone undercover for some reason. I think he was tapped for some real serious shit and thatís why he was cutting off all contact with us."

"So what can we do? If he is, then we canít approach him. That could kill him," she pointed out.

Tony nodded and agreed, "I know. First, we need information. You have to dig around and see what heís really doing. Then we can make a plan from there. And Abs, you canít tell anyone, not even McGee."

"Heís way better at this stuff than I am," she confessed, irritation underscoring her seriousness. "If we told him, he could probably scam an answer in a couple of days. It might take me a week."

"Yeah, but McGee canít hold a secret to save his own life, never mind Gibbs.í And Iím not risking Gibbs," Tony said firmly.

There was a long silence as Abby debated with herself, but at last she said, "Youíre right. We canít risk it. God, heís going to be so hurt when he finds out. Okay, look, my shit here isnít good enough for this kind of work, so Iíll be at a friendís house until I break it. And donít worry, he doesnít care what I do on his equipment, and even if he did, heís trustworthy. I swear it, Tony."

"I trust you, Abs. Do what you need to do," Tony assured her.

"This sucks rocks."

He snorted. "Yeah, I know. Iíll see you tomorrow."

"God. I am going to need a serious Big Gulp by then. Night, Tony."

"Night, Abs. And thanks."

"Hey, itís Bossman."

"Yeah, I know, but thanks anyhow."

"Youíre welcome."

Tony hung up and walked back to the counter, picking up the mug and emptying it into the sink. There wasnít anything else that he could do now except wait, and drinking coffee at two a.m. wasnít going to make that any easier.

Sighing, he headed back to bed, trying not to think about what Gibbs had been regretting when he hadnít said goodbye.

* * * *

The expensive suit sat easily on Jethro for a couple of reasons: A) it was an expensive, well-cut suit and B) he could care less about it. The power behind that kind of arrogance accented the cut of the suit. Sitting at the patio table, scanning the area for his contact, the beautiful, bikini-clad women walking back and forth from the hotel to the pool barely registered.

He and Ari had parted ways four days ago, back in the states, and Jethro had made his own way to Italy. Heíd stopped over in Germany to meet with a CIA agent to cement his undercover ID, but otherwise, hadnít had any contact with people who knew him as Jethro Gibbs. To all and sundry, he was Jason Granite.

And yes, he confirmed silently. Like the stone. Just to remind you that showing emotions will get you killed.

His gaze picked out the two men heading his way and his peripheral vision scoped out two more. Fingering his glass, Jethro brought it up and used its reflection to see that the ones coming on his three oíclock were bodyguards, big and muscled, where the ones coming right for him were a bodyguard plus his actual contact. Taking a drink, he set it down and relaxed back into the seat.

"Mr. Granite."

Meeting cold, dark eyes set in a swarthy, handsome face, Jethro replied, "Mr. Gianni. Have a seat. You want something to drink?"

Gianni, a hard-faced man in his forties, shrugged and agreed, "I could do with something. Itís hot today."

"Not as hot as SoCal in August," Jethro countered, half-grinning. "This is nice, balmy weather, breezy off the water and everything."

Waving over a waitress, Jethro waited until the other manís order had been taken and the young woman had left, before continuing, "I understand you have something that I might be interested in acquiring."

"Could be," Gianni replied. He pulled an envelop out of his suit jacket and slid it across the table.

Jethro took the envelop and opened it, looking through multiple pictures of weapons; anti-aircraft, anti-tank, automatic and semi-auto weaponsÖall the usual range. He tossed the envelop back on the table, shaking his head as he stood. "Youíre wasting my time. Enjoy your drink, I have another meeting to get to."

Gianni shrugged again and let him leave. Jethro pulled his cell phone out halfway across the patio and called his voicemail, checking for messages from Ari. The other man was due to call him in the next couple of days to set up a meet with his latest group of fanatics. It was these fanatics that made Jethroís presence necessary.

Ari needed a western dealer with ties to the military so that the person knew what they were doing. But he also needed someone whoíd forsaken all of it because heíd been disillusioned and betrayed by his own country. Someone who would actively be trying to damage ëhis own people,í because of that bitterness. Jethro knew he could play that without too much trouble, especially recalling some of the darker moments of his past military service.

You didnít get to be Gunny by staying on the straight and narrow, after all; it was blood and sweat that got you there, and the tears were held back.

When he found no messages, he headed for the bar, sitting at the counter and ordering a beer. It was only about two minutes later that Gianni joined him, the ever-present bodyguards staying in the line of sight. Glancing over at him, Jethro asked, "You forget something?"

"Just wondering how serious you were," Gianni replied. "I have my answer, so now I have something else for you."

"And that something is?"

A single picture was slid face down in front of Jethro and he lifted it just enough to see that it was containers of biological weapons. A shiver of dread ran through him, but it was easily restrained. This was the opening that theyíd been looking for and he was going to take it.

Setting the picture back down, he said, "Now you have my interest."

* * * *

The house was closed up, but Tony had an extra key and let himself in. They all had keys to each otherís homes, as well as security codes, in case something happened and a rapid but silent entry was needed.

Not that Gibbs is paranoid or anything, he thought sardonically, the familiar amusement rising at the thought.

Looking around the covered furniture, Tonyís hand rested on his stomach, absently rubbing it to sooth the recent, but perpetual, ache of what had to be a growing ulcer. He moved through the living room to the basement door, walking down the stairs to Gibbsí workshop to see the condition of the unfinished boat. He was afraid of what he would find. Would it be gone altogether, as if Gibbs didnít expect to be coming back? Would it be sealed up tight, or taken apart, in case someone had to clear it out?

Thankfully, the boat was exactly where it had always resided and there didnít seem to be any changes since the last time heíd been over. Not that he went over to Gibbsí place often, it was hardly ever, in fact, but he had been brought down into what he silently called, ëthe sacred space,í one of those times.

Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Tony ran his hands over the smooth wood and half grinned as he muttered, "If he sands you down any more, youíre going to be awfully skinny, girl."

The boat, of course, didnít answer. Shaking his head at the fanciful statement, Tony turned and headed back upstairs, vastly reassured as to Gibbsí state of mind and the agentís anticipation of return.

* * * *

The fact that it took Abby over two weeks to get any information at all scared Tony. Because no matter what she might say about McGee being better, Abby was still one of the best. When she took him aside seventeen days after starting her search and locked the doors on her lab, Tonyís stomach dropped. He leaned against her desk and waited, more tense than heíd been in a very long time.

And that included after the discovery of who heíd really been kissing when heíd been kissing Voss.

"He is in so deep that Iím afraid to sneeze," Abby said, as she leaned on the table opposite him with wide eyes. "Heís in Morocco right now, just arrived from Italy, where he was up to some really bad shit. Heís an arms dealer whoís expanding into biological weapons."

Oh shit. This is bad, Tony thought. Heíd thought that his stomach couldnít drop any further, but heíd been wrong. "Okay, soÖthereís nothing we can do."

And Abby said at the same time, "Thereís nothing we can do."

They stared at one another, each knowing that a cover that sensitive and that deep was not something to be fucked with. They could easily get Gibbs killed and muck up whatever it was that he was working on.

"Something I did find out, though, is that our dear friend Ari is behind that whole thing," Abby announced, unusually grim.

Startled, Tony demanded, "What? How so?"

"Well, it seems that he sent out a may-day for help on this op and specifically requested Gibbs. He wouldnít take no for an answer, either. His Director-ship Mr. Morrow called Bossman into his office a couple of days before Gibbs took off to tell him."

"I bet that went over like a lead balloon," Tony muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Look, can you at least get him a message without blowing his cover?"

"Yeah, that I can do, if you keep it short."

* * * *

An unexpected warmth flushed through Jethro as he read the anonymous email that popped up from Gothchik101Z: T wants in, just say where and when. May the Force Be With You.

Honestly smiling for what felt like the first time in a month, Jethro collapsed back on the bed. He didnít have to worry about a trail if someone was monitoring his emails, Abby was too smart for that. And she hadnít used any names, either; ëTí could be anyone. It was sure that sheíd used some anonymous email service or provider or whatever the hell kept people invisible online.

Even though he was still alone, he wasnít. Just knowing that Tony and Abby knew what was really going on gave him a renewed strength and sense of purpose. He was doing this for a reason, after all, and not just to keep his job; he was keeping his people and his country safe.

Thoughts centering on the people heíd left behind, Jethro allowed himself a momentary indulgence. Getting out of character was dangerous, but he couldnít keep going the way he was without some kind of outlet. In the grand scheme of things, it hadnít been that long, only twenty-two days, but for someone whoíd been working non-stop with the same people for years at a time, it seemed an eternity.

Routine might be the mind killer, but it was also a comfort and one that Jethro had taken for granted. Just as heíd taken his friends for granted. Heíd taken Abbyís quirky sense of humor for granted. Heíd taken Duckyís never-ending wisdom and lectures for granted. Heíd taken Kateís sharp wit and honest compassion for granted.

And TonyÖ

Sighing, Jethro knew that heíd taken everything about Tony for granted, including his apparently boundless loyalty. The fact that the younger man was ready and waiting to be called into potentially deadly action was buoying. Not that Jethro would do so, that would be selfish in the extreme, but it was a nice thought. Having Tony with him would be a definite bonus, both for backup and company.

No, even though he was desperate for contact with someone who wasnít scum, he wouldnít put Tony in that kind of danger. Heíd never risk the younger man like that, not even to save his own life.

The phone rang, interrupting his thoughts, and he rolled over, picking it up on the second ring with, "Granite. Talk."

"Mr. Granite. I have a shipment ready for your inspection. A car will pick you up outside of your hotel in ten minutes."

Gianni. Making a face at the wall, Jethro replied, "Iíll be ready."

"Good."

After the disconnection, Jethro stared at the laptop for a few more seconds then reluctantly selected Abbyís message. He read it through, one more time, and then hit delete. There was no sense in taking any chances, after all, and feeling warm and fuzzy wasnít going to keep him in character.

Jethro breathed deep, eyes closed, and summoned the feeling that had sliced through him when Tony had been kidnapped. Fury. Pure and unadulterated rage that someone would dare to hurt what was his, even if Tony wasnít, technically, his. One of his own, hand-picked and looked after for the last two years was enough reason without the additional feelings.

When the rage was centered and controlled, but still very much present, Jethro opened his eyes and crossed to the dresser, looking at himself in the mirror. The pale blue shirt complemented his eyes, which were cold and hard, exactly how they needed to look. Checking his weapon, he pulled on the holster and then put on his jacket, a light gray that set off the blue.

"Right. Time to get this show on the road," he ordered his reflection.

* * * *

Life went on and Tony did what he always did when something loomed problematically on the horizon; his shoved it to the back corner of his mind to deal with later. There wasnít anything they could do and Gibbs hadnít even contacted them to let them know that heíd gotten the email, but Abby had assured him that it had been received. Cases needed to be solved and people needed help, so Tony focused his attention on the job.

Kate fell into the role of manager easily and did it so well that Morrow had put her indefinitely in-charge, pending Gibbsí return. Tony was of the personal opinion that heíd done that because putting anyone else in that position would be admitting that Gibbs might not return. On top of the fact that Kate wouldnít make that much of a fuss about stepping down when Gibbs did.

The afternoon that Abby had told him about what Gibbs was doing was the only time that Kate had glommed on to the fact that not everything was right in the world. When heíd gotten back to his desk, she had frowned at him and asked, "Whatís wrong?"

"What? Nothing," heíd replied, aiming for a scoffing tone.

She had arched an eyebrow at him and said, "Somethingís wrong. I can tell from looking at you, Tony."

Tony had leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly as he did so, and forcibly relaxed the tension that had taken up residence in the back of his neck. "Just wondering how long before you make a big enough mistake that theyíll rightfully give me the job instead."

His teasing tone must have convinced her, because she had snorted and countered, "Try never, DiNozzo."

Having successfully diverted the conversation, Tony had unlocked his computer and started working. Every so often he had felt her eyes on him, but Kate didnít say anything else, so he had ignored her.

One month turned into two, and Tony was eventually able to push thoughts of Gibbs lying dead in a gutter somewhere, or being endlessly tortured for information that he would never give up, into the realm of his subconscious. His nightmares were the stuff of legend, or would be if he told anyone about them, and he often woke more tired than when heíd gone to sleep.

Tony also spent more time staring at the bedroom ceiling than he wanted to admit, exhausted but not wanting to sleep. He read a lot and even took to learning how to craft the same boat that Gibbs had stored away in his basement. Not that he could learn a lot without actually putting his hands on it, but Tony figured that Gibbs would cut the hands off of anyone who touched his boat without his permission, even though it was still a skeleton.

Awake, he lived and breathe the job, not even distracting himself with the more-than-occasional flings for which he was so infamous. There were a few comments here and there about his altered attitude, but not too many. Maybe they thought that he was just growing up.

Snorting at the thought, Tony rubbed hot, gritty eyes and arched back over his chair, trying to relieve the pressure. Glancing at the clock, he saw that he was, yet again, the last man standing, so to speak, and decided to call it a night. His phone rang just as he stood to go and he picked it up with, "DiNozzo speaking."

"Agent DiNozzo? Director Morrow would like to see you before you go home for the evening," a cultured, feminine voice replied.

Heís dead, was the thought that ran through his mind first. Nausea threatened until he realized that if Gibbs was dead, Kate would be the one told and expected to disseminate the information to the team. Relief stabbed through him and he answered weakly, "No problem. Iíll be right up."

"Thank you."

Staring at the phone a second longer, Tony shook off the nervousness, gathering his composure as best he could. Whatever was going on, he wasnít going to be caught out like some school kid. Heíd been at NCIS for two years and his record was nothing to be ashamed of.

Besides which, the only person he cowered from was Gibbs.

That thought firmly in mind, Tony headed for the elevator and tried to remember not to fidget.

* * * *

The first he knew that something was wrong, was when Lyle stared over his shoulder, at something or someone behind Jethro.

"Hey Boss. Got that information you wanted."

The familiar voice caused him to blink a few times in shock, but he managed not to show any of it to the man facing him. For those few seconds, Jethro honestly wondered if he had gone over the edge and was now hallucinating that Tony was behind him. Then Tony appeared on his peripheral vision and Jethro cocked his head over to see that yes, Tony was indeed standing only a foot away from him.

Despite the large bodyguards restraining him, the usual, carefree grin was in place, the hazel eyes sparked with mischief, and Tony somehow managed to loom, both intimidating and not, at the same time over the men holding him.

"Boss? You okay? You didnít eat any of the spicy food again, did you?" Tony questioned, smirking faintly.

Jethro nodded at the men gripping Tony firmly by the arms and they released him, all of which gave him more time to collect himself.

Turning his attention to Lyle, Tony stuck out his hand and introduced himself, "Will Jenkins, good to meet you, Mr. Harrison."

The scowl on Jethroís face was in no way faked as he finally snapped, "I did not eat any of the spicy food and what the hell are you doing here?"

Assuming an innocent expression, Tony replied, "Well I didnít figure you for wanting me to email the account information since you donít have a secure server or decrypted software in that hunk of junk you wonít let me replace."

Taking the cue, Jethro countered, "It works fine."

"Yes it does, for a hunk of junk," Tony soothed, pulling out the chair beside Jethro and sitting.

Growling, "JenkinsÖ" promptly produced a piece of paper from Tonyís jacket that was hastily handed over. Unfolding it, Jethro saw a series of numbers and letters and saw it was completely different from the one heíd been about to use. Probably the damned appropriations committee messing around with funds again and this was the new account. "Is that all you have for me?"

Tony blinked at him a couple of times then answered, "Yes."

"Are you sure?" Jethro prompted, waiting.

Lips pursed, a little nervous now, Tony replied, "Ah, yes?"

"Good. Get out."

Eyes rolling, Tony looked over at Lyle and complained, "You see why I have an ulcer? He does that to me for fun."

To Jethroís relief, Tonyís aside provoked a brief grin from the ex-Brittish national who agreed, "He does have an odd sense of humor."

Standing before Jethro could say anything else, Tony bowed slightly, the look in his eyes promising full disclosure later, the younger man said, "Iíll check you out and meet you at the bar, Boss."

Jethro couldnít resist. "Just make sure not to pick up any assassins this time."

Heaving a dramatic sigh as he walked away, Tony stage-whispered, "You make a date with the wrong girl once, maybe twice, and you never hear the end of it."

Once out of earshot, Lyle looked at Jethro and said, "I honestly didnít think you had any partners."

"I donít. He calls me Boss because he works for me," Jethro replied.

"DoingÖ?"

"Whatever needs doing."

And if he put extra menace in that short phrase, it was only to cover the jitterbug his stomach was currently performing.

* * * *

Tony was chatting up a long-legged blond at the bar when Jethro arrived and he took a moment to watch the younger man in his element. It was obvious that Tony had her completely wrapped around his finger and Jethro snorted in aggravated amusement. Of all the things that Tony DiNozzo should be doing just then, flirting with a beautiful woman was nowhere on the list. He walked over to them and smacked Tony upside the back of the head.

Hard.

"Ow! What theÖoh, hi Boss," Tony greeted weakly. He glanced back at the woman and said, "I guess the breakís over, sorry."

She made a moue of protest, but left in short order on catching sight of Jethroís hard expression.

Offering a grin as he slid off the bar stool, Tony asked, "What, not happy to see me, Boss?"

"Not one word, Jenkins," Jethro hissed. "Grab the bags and letís go. Youíre heading for the airport."

Tony stopped short, planting his feet, and shook his head. "Weíre going to the hotel that Iíve picked out, and already checked out, and then weíre going to chat."

Knowing that mutinous expression far too intimately, Jethro figured that giving in just then would make things easier in the long run. Scowling again, Jethro motioned for Tony to start walking. To his surprise, a luxury car waited at the curb and thatís where the younger man headed, popping the trunk and putting his bags inside.

They were silent as Tony drove through Paris, neither man straying into what was undoubtedly dangerous territory of conversation while maneuvering the narrow streets. Jethro had no idea where they were or where they were going, but they pulled up in front of an expensive hotel not ten minutes later. Attendants took the bags when Tony popped the trunk from the driverís seat and accompanied them inside.

Jethro followed Tony into the elevator and then down a hall on one of the upper floors into a large suite. It wasnít the penthouse, but it was pretty damn close. There were two bedrooms with a bathroom each, and a living room with a stocked bar area. Jethro watched with interest as Tony automatically tipped the attendant in what was not a learned behavior. Most of the time, he forgot that Tony came from money and it wasnít until something like this happened that it came up.

Once they were alone, Tony headed straight for the bar and said, "I told them to stock up on the good Bourbon, not that I know the difference, but I told them you did. You do, right?"

Amused, and pleased since a stiff drink was exactly what the doctor was screaming for, Jethro confirmed, "I do."

"Ice?"

"I think straight up."

"Good idea."

Tony poured a glass of bourbon and then snagged a beer for himself, bringing both over to Jethro and holding out the glass. Accepting the golden liquid in cut crystal, Jethro started with a neutral topic. "Did I get a raise and no one told me?"

"Increase in funding to go with the increase in danger."

That didnít sound good. Gesturing to the sofa, Jethro headed for it himself and ordered, "Talk, DiNozzo."

Grimacing as he took a pull on the beer, Tony sank into the couch and groaned, rubbing his neck. "Iíve been on flight after flight after long-assed car trip for forty-eight hours straight, Iíll have you know."

"DiNozzoÖ"

"Iím talking, Iím talking!" Tony exclaimed. "Morrow brought me in on this three days ago not just because of the account change, but because they got a message from Ari. All it said was, ëTell Gibbs to watch his back.í And since youíre not exactly the trusting sort, they figured delivery of the message should come from someone you trusted."

"Well, now that youíve delivered the message, you can leave," Jethro stated firmly.

"Not a chance."

Irritated at the flat refusal, Jethro snapped, "This isnít some stakeout movie!"

Standing, Tony walked a few paces away and exclaimed angrily, "I know that, okay!? Thatís why Iím not leaving. You need someone to watch your back and thatís me. End of story."

Jethro recognized the stubborn tilt of the jaw and his own flexed in rising anger. He wasnít used to Tony disobeying him, not about the important stuff anyhow, and it didnít sit well. Despite knowing the inherent benefits to having Tony with him, his need to protect the younger man was chafing at the bit. Taking a breath, he said, "Look, Tony, I appreciate that you want to help me out, and Iím grateful, really, but you canít stay."

"Why not?"

Searching for a legitimate reason, Jethro stalled, "Because."

"Because why?"

"Because I said so!" Jethro snarled.

Unexpectedly, a grin surfaced on Tonyís face as he replied, "That stopped being a valid reason for me when I was about six, maybe younger."

Jethro snorted, his sense of humor slowly being restored by the twinkle in the other manís eyes. Acceding to the inevitable, he stated, "You will obey every order I give you, to the letter, when I give it to you."

"Donít I always?"

"DiNozzo, so help meÖ"

"All right!" Tony said hastily. "I got it. Instant obedience. And uh, donít get used to it, Boss, because itís just for the duration of the mission."

"I wouldnít dream of it," Jethro replied, dry.

"Speaking of, whatís going on?"

Therein followed a rapid but thorough debriefing of the main players in the dangerous drama they were involved in. Ariís group, a militant faction trying to buy biological weapons to unleash on the US. Gianni the Italian supplier. Harrison, the ex-Brittish MI-6 agent who was a go-between for Ariís group and Jethro, since they didnít yet trust him, simply for being American. The InterPol, CIA, and MI-6 operatives who were filtered throughout the areas of the deals for back-up when it became necessary. For an international mission, it was going surprisingly smoothly, with little red tape to mess things up.

"You do realize that you just jinxed the entire thing by saying that, right?" Tony pointed out, very mellow after his third beer.

Grinning, Jethro said, "Yeah, but itís true. Iím still waiting for the other shoe to drop and hoping that itís not on my head. Or yours, now that youíre here."

"Iím not here, Iím going to bed, because Iím exhausted," Tony announced, setting the last bottle on the table with a yawn.

"Two plane rides and a long-assed car ride will do that."

"Well hey, you were listening."

"I always listen, Tony."

An odd smile crossed Tonyís face as he said, "Good. Iíll see you in the morning, Boss."

"Night, DiNozzo," Jethro replied.

After watching the other man head to one of the rooms, Jethro sighed and stared into his second glass of liquor. It was good bourbon, Tony had made sure of that. Just like he knew that Tony had checked for bugs and made sure that Jethroís room was how he liked it, though how the younger man knew all of that was a mystery to which Jethro wasnít sure that he wanted the answer.

It spoke of a devotion that no one had ever shown him before, including any of his ex-wives, and made him think thoughts about Tony that had no place in their lives.

Shaking his head at such idiocy, Jethro got to his feet and headed for his own room.

* * * *

Tony woke up all messed up from the time changes and groaned, his head hurting more from the lack of sleep, than three measly beers. His back and neck were equally as messed up, heralding a painful day, and he slowly crawled out of the bed, glancing at the clock to see that it was just after five in the morning. He might even have woken up before Gibbs, though he wasnít counting on it.

The shower helped, a lot, and he lingered under the stinging, hot spray. He was feeling much more human by the time he shaved and dressed in the elegant suit that reminded him painfully of what his father wore. Sometimes role playing was definitely not fun. When he left the bedroom, he aimed directly for the coffeemaker on the bar, surprised to find that he had beaten Gibbs out of bed.

Starting the machine, he picked up the phone and ordered breakfast, keeping it light with bagels and toast, knowing that heíd be lucky if he could coax Gibbs into eating even that much. It was after he hung up the phone that the other man came out of his bedroom, fully dressed and ready for the day. Smiling cheerfully, he greeted, "Morning, Boss!"

"Coffee."

Tony snagged one of the mugs just as the timer went off and poured, holding it out with, "Whatís on the agenda for today?"

Gibbs took a long sip before saying anything, eyes open only in slits. Arching an eyebrow at him, Gibbsí eyes opened further and he complimented, "Good coffee."

"Yeah well, I just tried to make it strong enough to burn a hole through a carburetor," Tony replied.

Gibbs smirked. "Good plan, teach it to Kate when we get back."

"Sure thing."

"As for whatís on the agenda," Gibbs continued. "The funds should have gone through last night so weíll be getting a call from Harrison to confirm the meet with Ariís group."

"And thenÖ?"

"And then we make the deal, InterPol does their thing, takes these bastards down, and we go the hell home," Gibbs answered succinctly.

The cell phone rang just then and Gibbs pulled it out answering, "Granite."

Shaking his head at hearing that name pass Gibbsí lips, Tony leaned on the counter, unashamedly eavesdropping, though there wasnít much that he could hear. Gibbs basically grunted or said, "Yeah," in different places, his face growing stonier as the conversation wore on. By the time he hung up, Tony was positive that a chisel wouldnít be able to make a dent in the expression. "Whatís up, Boss?"

"Harrison said that Ariís people want to meet me ahead of schedule," Gibbs answered. "That thereís been some questions raised about my authenticity and reputation."

A cold swipe of fear shivered down his spine and Tony questioned, "How bad is it, do you think?"

"Well, Harrison didnít seem concerned, but it isnít his head on the block, either," Gibbs answered, dry.

"Whereís the meet?"

"At a club, supposedly owned and operated by a neutral party."

"Weapons?"

"Weíll bring them, but theyíll be taken at the door."

"Great," Tony drawled.

Gibbs snorted and agreed, "Should be interesting. Letís go."

* * * *

The club was empty, but well-lit, so at least that was a plus. Tony stood back a few paces from the group, but remained close at hand, scanning the room. Ari was easy to spot, well-dressed in western clothing compared to the traditional styled robes of the others. Their eyes locked for a split second and Tony saw what Kate meant by, ëkind eyes.í Ari was a killer, not doubt about it, but Tony was willing to bet that in most situations, the agent would use other methods if available.

Following the rapid-fire conversation, letting Ari do the translating so as not to reveal his own knowledge of the language, Tony mentally congratulated Gibbs on his performance. Despite the fact that they were clearly out numbered and had no weapons, the other man was cold as ice and just as smooth.

"We donít have time for this, Ari," Gibbs stated towards the end. "Either they trust me, or they donít. I have other customers who would be more than happy to agree to the price Iím asking and wouldnít put me through half this shit."

"You have to understand, Granite, that trust is hard won for my people," Ari placated, eyes narrowing at the use of his Moussad name. "This is the last time."

Unyielding, Gibbs pointed out, "Thatís what you said last time. I want half the money in my account, now, or we walk and you shop elsewhere."

Tony listened as Ari gave the ultimatum and the others reacted to it in a babble of angry voices. Some were all for killing the two of them then and there, while others wanted to string them along and get the weapons before killing them. There were only a couple who advocated doing the deal as it was, and Ari was one of them.

Tough room.

It was finally decided, through a long and loud debate, that they would be allowed to sell the weapons to the group and keep their lives. Ariís voice of reason prevailed, but Tony suspected that was only because he pointed out that no one would want to do business with them in the future if they always killed those who were trying to sell to them.

Once that was taken care of, Ari waved Tony over to the laptop on the bar countertop and said, "You can verify that Iíve just transferred half the money to your account."

Fingers flying over the keyboard, feeling invisible gun-sights all over him in a crawly sensation, Tony did just that. He glanced at Gibbs and gave one short, silent nod before stepping back from the computer.

It was a short time from there for Gibbs and Ari to finish up the particulars of the deal, keeping Harrison as the point of contact between them. There was no shaking of hands, thank God, and Tony followed Gibbs out of the club, keeping himself between Gibbsí back and the invisible guns that he could still feel aimed at them.

Once outside and driving away in the car, Tony forced himself not to think about just how close theyíd come to dying.

* * * *

They didnít hear anything the rest of the afternoon, staying in the hotel as they waited for the call. Conversation ranged from catching Gibbs up on the latest office gossip, to sports, to movies, to nothing at all. The silence was always comfortable, something that Tony hadnít even realized that heíd missed.

Ordering room service, Tony winked at Gibbs as he ordered the most expensive steak on the menu.

"DiNozzo, this isnít our money you know," Gibbs pointed out when he hung up the phone.

Grinning broadly, Tony exclaimed, "Exactly!"

Dinner was nice. Better than nice, actually, because Tony got to listen to Gibbs ramble on about his boat through the entire meal and he finally knew what the hell the other man was talking about. He decided to keep his newfound knowledge to himself, though, wanting to surprise Gibbs when they were actually at the boat.

After, Gibbs decided to turn in early and Tony waved goodnight, claiming he wasnít tired enough to sleep. He was going to watch television for a while and then turn in. It was a complete lie, of course, because while Tony was too keyed up to sleep, he wasnít just going to sit in front of the television. That was a sure recipe for the ulcer heíd been kidding about to Harrison.

About a half hour after Gibbs went to bed, waiting several minutes until the crack of light under the door had disappeared, Tony wrote a note and then proceeded to the gym. Sex with a stranger was out of the question for too many reasons to list, so he was planning to find a willing sparring partner and pummel himself into oblivion.

* * * *

Jethro heard the suite door close and waited about five minutes to give Tony a head start. He was curious to see what the younger man would do with his pent up energy, knowing that Tony wasnít just going to sit around. When heíd been Tonyís age and had had a close call like this afternoon, heíd found the nearest willing woman and gotten down and dirty really fucking fast. Given Tonyís libido, it was pretty much a foregone conclusion that heíd do the same.

Rolling swiftly out of bed, Jethro crossed the bedroom and was about to head right for the door when a note on the coffee table caught his eye. Frowning as he changed direction, Jethro picked it up and read it in surprise. The gym? Not really believing it, but wanting to, even if he had no idea what it might say about the other manís availability, Jethro left the suite.

The elevator ride down was spent ignoring the ëcome-hitherí flirty look a young woman kept sending his way. Off the elevator, Jethro snagged a staff person and asked for directions to the gym. It only took a few more minutes to get there and he paused at the beginning of the large glass partition that was used in place of a wall, showing off the brand new machines.

Dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, Tonyís hands were taped and he was exchanging serious blows with a slender, well-muscled Asian man. It was a strange mix of martial arts and boxing that Jethro recognized as, ëIím trying to kill myself, keep up if you can.í And since the younger man clearly chosen a better opponent, the stranger was doing pretty damn well at keeping Tony in his place. But Tony fought valiantly, getting in some telling blows and dancing repeatedly out of the way of his opponentís passes.

Jethroís gaze was locked on the sweat-slicked torso, the t-shirt clinging wetly to Tonyís body. He winced every time a blow connected, and nodded in approval when Tony dodged or landed one of his own. It was a good half hour of all-out battle before the Asian called time-out and patted Tony on the back, plainly telling him to cool down and hit the showers.

Ducking back just in time to avoid discovery, Jethro mulled over the entire insane situation as he headed back to their suite.

* * * *

Groaning as his body protested the change from sleeping like a log to automatically jumping for the alarm, Tony hit the off button several times before the annoying noise stayed off. Heíd more than gotten his wish the night before in getting his ass kicked, that was for damn sure. Moving even more stiff and sore than the previous day, Tony slowly crawled out of bed and staggered to the bathroom.

The shower was pure bliss and he stayed under the pounding massager nozzle for at least a half-hour before starting to wash up. Shaving convinced him that he was still alive, if not very well, and by the time he got dressed, Tony was moving with something approaching his normal speed.

Gibbs was already up and at ëem, reading the paper and drinking coffee in the living area.

"How was the gym?"

Tony groaned in answer and continued towards the coffeemaker.

Chuckling, Gibbs informed him, "I ordered breakfast already, should be on its way now."

"You, are a God among men, Gibbs," Tony praised, breathing in the extra caffeinated coffee and sipping at the still scalding hot liquid.

"Remember that the next time I donít give you a raise."

Snorting, Tony had just sat down when the room service arrived. He started to rise again, but Gibbs waved him off and he remained where he was. Breakfast was massive and he was surprised when Gibbs actually ate some of it instead of leaving him to inhale the entire amount. Not that he could have, with the amount of food present.

All through the meal, he thought that he kept seeing an odd expression on Gibbsí face, but it didnít match any of the previously catalogued expressions; not even the most recent of regret and fear. When he was done eating, Tony headed back to the coffeemaker to brew another pot, knowing that Gibbs was just getting started on his daily intake.

Standing, paper in hand, Gibbs joined him at the bar, putting the section he had down and looking for another.

Tony hesitated, busying himself with filters and grounds before finally saying, "Youíve been missed, you know. Kateís great and all, sheís done a bang-up job, but sheís not you and the whole department feels it, not just the team."

Gibbs half-smiled at him and asked, "Youíre not going to get sentimental on me now, are you, DiNozzo?"

"Yeah, I think I am," Tony replied, squinting over at the other man. He remembered Gibbs saying almost those same words to Burley, and even though he felt even more insecure now, than he had then, Tony knew that he had to say what was on his mind because it could be the only opportunity. Heíd always run, far and fast, when things got complicated with another person, but he wanted a hell of a lot more than just ëcomplicated,í with Gibbs.

Besides, no guts, no glory, wasnít that the Marine motto?

"You know, the reason I never stayed more than a couple of years at any one job isnít just because Iíve got a short attention span," he began, dry. "There were a few extenuating circumstances, yeah, but I was a good enough cop that if Iíd wanted to work through the problems, I couldíve. But there was never anythingÖkeeping me there, you know? When you recruited me to NCIS, I didnít think it was going to be anything different. Iíd work a couple of years and move on. Only, thatís not what happened. Iíve got something keeping me there and itísÖ"

Out of the blue, Gibbs jumped on him, interrupting the stilted, almost painful, words. For a shocked second, Tony thought that Gibbs had guessed what he was going to say and was literally jumping his bones, but then the bullets tore through the area where heíd just been. The noise of the shattering of the window penetrated a millisecond later and Tony tried to get out from under Gibbs to protect him, but the other man wouldnít move.

"God damn it, Gibbs, move!" Tony shouted, over the continuing hail of bullets riddling the area.

When he didnít, Tony wrapped his legs around the other manís hips and simply rolled them, using his greater mass to force the other into a protected embrace against the side of the bar.

"Son of a bitch!" Gibbs cursed, now the one struggling to get free.

The bullets stopped abruptly, the killers realizing that they were too protected by the now-riddled bar to get in any fatal shots. Tony didnít move, planted firmly over Gibbs to keep him from harm, until he heard sirens and knew that help was on the way. Once they became audible, Tony collapsed to the side, letting Gibbs go and trying to collect himself.

That was when the pain in his back hit and he groaned, "Oh, fuck! Shit, that hurts."

"DiNozzo? Where are you hurt?" Gibbs demanded, muted panic in his voice.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he answered, "My back. I think I was shot."

Strong hands rolled him gently to his side and a moment later Gibbs corrected, "Not shot, no, but youíve got a good chunk of glass sticking out of your back thatís going to need stitches. I donít want to take it out in case you start gushing. Weíll wait for the ambulance."

By then, the police arrived and the questions began. Resting against Gibbsí knees so that he didnít have to hold himself steady on his side, Tony let him do all the talking. The throbbing in his back was almost worth the fact that he was practically sprawled over Gibbsí lap and the other manís hand gently rubbed the back of his neck.

Sighing in near contentment, Tony closed his eyes and tried to rest until the medics could get to him.

* * * *

Unfortunately, Tony heard the one-sided conversation Jethro had with Harrison on the phone a couple of hours after theyíd been moved to another suite. He had refused the pain-killers that the medics had tried to push on him, probably to make sure that Jethro didnít sneak out, and so was alert and ready when the call came in.

"Itís my back, not my gun arm," Tony scoffed when Jethro tried to convince him to stay behind. "Iím fine and even if I wasnít, thereís no way in hell Iíd let you go on your own. Kind of defeats the purpose of me being here, you know?"

Irritated, Jethro didnít try to argue with him, knowing that it wouldnít do any good. Once Tony sunk his teeth into something, it was like trying to pry open someone with a case of lockjaw. "Fine, but donít forget what I said about obeying orders."

Offering a sloppy salute, Tony smirked, obviously pleased at having won so easily.

One attitude adjustment coming right up, just as soon as heís safe, Jethro thought sourly. Aloud, he snapped, "Letís go, DiNozzo."

Tony fell into step behind and to his left, keeping out of the way of Jethroís shooting arm and protecting him simultaneously. It was a position the younger agent automatically adopted, and Jethro had to admit to feeling naked when Tony wasnít filling that spot; at least to himself.

They were out of the hotel and driving out of Paris within fifteen minutes. Gibbs thought he saw one of the InterPol agents tailing them, but couldnít be sure. All he wanted was for this farce to be over with. He wanted to go home, get Tony to finish saying what the shooting had interrupted, and work on his boatÖor not, depending on what Tony had been going to say. A shot of heat surged through him as he thought about what ënotí would include, if Tony had been going where Jethro was pretty damn sure heíd been going.

Shifting in his seat to discretely reposition himself, Jethro thought about what would happen if he took Tony up on something like that. He didnít mind being circumspect, not one given to PDAís to begin with, but he wouldnít hide it, either. One of those ëopen-secrets,í that were so prevalent around their office, like Ducky and Gerald, and Abby and McGee. Technically, none of them should be working together once the relationship became public knowledge, however unofficially. But there was no way that Gibbs was going to screw up his team dynamics because of a meaningless reg.

This is the test, he thought. This is where you find out if you can love DiNozzo and still put him in harmís way.

And even though they were always technically in harmís way on the job, it was definitely different this time. At NCIS, they faced criminals not intent on wiping out their entire country with no scruples, or difficulty, in torturing their enemies just because they were enemies. At NCIS, they faced people who were often criminals by accident and always just trying to cover their own asses for whatever theyíd done.

If InterPol or the other agencies screwed this up, it was entirely possible that Tony and he would be casualties of a silent war and none of their friends or family would ever know what really happened to them. Worse, something could happen to Tony, he could be captured and tortured, and Jethro would have to live with it, knowing that he could have prevented it by sending Tony away.

As the car pulled up at an old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, Jethro turned to Tony and said, "I donít want you toÖ"

"Donít say it. If you say it, youíre discounting me and what we could have is gone anyhow," Tony interrupted, completely serious. "Just trust me. You always have before, so donít stop now."

And then Tony was out of the car and there was nothing else Jethro could say. Gritting his teeth, knowing that Tony was right and hating it, he climbed out of the car and walked to the house. They were sure to have been followed, but there was no sign of backup anywhere. Locking up all the shit running through his head into a tiny little box to deal with later, Jethro became Jason Granite on the short walk to the front door.

Once inside, he scanned the living room to find Ari and his people, along with Harrison, gathered. He noted their weapons and extra ammo automatically, as well as all the potential escape routes. He knew perfectly well that if Ari had to kill them to maintain his cover, the agent would do just that.

Nodding to Ari, he greeted, "Are we all set?"

"Just as soon as the weapons arrive," Ari confirmed, nodding towards the laptop on the coffee table. "The account you indicated to Mr. Harrison is just a mouse-click away from being filled with a lot of money."

Thankfully, Gianni arrived with the weapons in short order. Everyone trooped outside to do the inspection and Jethro was glad to see that Ari brought the laptop with him. It would be much easier to take cover and/or run when outside, than trapped in the house.

Tony stayed right at his side through the whole deal and it was amazing how intimidating the younger man became, just by standing straight. Jethro forgot, most of the time, that Tony was a big guy, broad-chested and well-muscled all over. He towered over most of the men currently arrayed, only Harrison and Jethro himself giving any competition. Jethro suddenly appreciated the other manís ease with himself and that Tony didnít feel the need to lord himself over others and did, in fact, try to make himself appear as innocuous as possible.

Once the weapons were inspected, Ari turned to Jethro and said, "Everything is good. Thank you so much for the assistance in locating these weapons."

That didnít sound like the prelude to a payoff. The dark eyes staring at him were serious and Jethro had just about three seconds to realize the deal wasnít going to go through before Ari started bringing up his weapon.

In those three seconds, Tony had spun and grabbed one of the older men present, his gun to the manís temple as he shouted something that sounded like Arabic. Jethro made out his assumed name, Granite, but nothing else, though it was clear that Tony was threatening the manís life if Jethro was killed.

He had just enough time to wonder where the hell Tony had learned Arabic before all hell broke loose. Agents streamed out of the surrounding woods and automatic weaponsí fire rang through the clearing. Jethroís hands went up immediately and he shouted at Harrison, "You bastard! You set us up!"

Being that Harrison was an ex-MI-6 operative, there would be enough doubt cast on him that his career in weapons dealing was effectively over, even if he did make it out of prison. And when Jason Granite and his associate conveniently died trying to escape, the whole thing would be nicely wrapped up.

Grunting as a fist drove into his belly, Jethro dropped to his knees, glaring at the agent whoíd knocked him down. Cuffs clicked into place around his wrists and Jethro was dragged to his feet and over to a car. He struggled when he saw Tony wasnít being brought to the same vehicle, but all that got him was the butt of a gun to the back of his head and the ensuing darkness.

* * * *

Jethro woke, still handcuffed and face down on a narrow cot. His head throbbed unpleasantly and the tide of nausea was difficult to keep down, informing him of a concussion. Forcing himself to roll over revealed that he was in a plain, windowless cell and the groan was a combination of pain and anger.

So much for not having a lot of bureaucratic red tape, he thought, struggling into a sitting position and then standing to look for a camera.

Someone had obviously screwed up and heíd really been taken prisoner during the raid. Finding the camera in the wall corner, bracing himself for the backlash of pain, he shouted, "Hey! You! Get someone in here who knows what the hell is going on! My name is Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs from the US Naval Criminal Investigative Services! I was brought in as part of the undercover sting!"

Agony sliced through his head at the shouting and Jethro staggered back onto the bed. Only the thought of what could be happening to Tony kept him conscious. He clawed at the gray field surrounding his vision, forcing himself to hang on until someone showed up that could clear up the situation.

It seemed forever before the door to his cell opened and a thin, slight man with plain features entered. He wasnít surrounded by guards, but Jethro wasnít sure if that was good, or not.

"I understand that you claim to be someone else, Mr. Granite," the man stated.

Definitely not good. Barely restraining his temper, Jethro replied harshly, "Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs of NCIS. Confirm it with Agent LaSalle, the man in charge of this op."

"Iím afraid LaSalle is in the hospital with a bad case of appendicitis," the man informed him. "I am Agent DeLeon."

Well fuck. That figures, he thought furiously. "Donít you people ever hear of back-up documentation? He had a partner, Remillard, talk to him."

"Mssr. Remillard is busy answering questions himself about certain irregularities regarding this investigation," DeLeon replied. "I suggest that you talk to me."

"Thereís nothing to talk about!" Jethro hissed. "Confirm my identity, and that of my subordinate, Agent Anthony DiNozzo, and get us both the hell out of here."

"Iím afraid that yourÖcompanionÖwas badly injured while trying to escape. Heís in surgery at the moment and the outcome is not all that certain."

The darkness that Jethro had been fighting since he woke threatened to overwhelm him at that news. Clutching to the rage that lit through him in order to stay upright, Jethro looked right in the other manís eyes and stated quietly, "If anything has happened to Agent DiNozzo, I will make sure that you are held responsible...and then Iíll hunt you down, personally."

DeLeonís jaw flexed a few times, but he showed no other reaction to the threat. He simply turned and left the cell.

Once he was gone, Jethro collapsed onto the bunk clutching his head. The agony had stepped up to excruciating and he was seriously about to lose what little food had been coaxed into him by Tony after the attempted assassination. His thoughts raced as to whether Tony was really hurt, or if that had been a ploy on DeLeonís part to shake him up. And if he was really hurt, just what had happened and how badly injured Tony was. Fading in and out of consciousness, Jethro couldnít summon the strength to do more, even though he wanted to rail at the entire situation and make some dents in the walls with his fists.

It was after a spell of darkness that he came to with hands gently cradling his head and Tonyís furious voice snarling, something in French that sounded a lot like, "Öin here in two minutes, or someoneís balls will be in a vice!"

Groaning, Jethro opened his eyes and instantly regretted it, thanks to the bright light now turned on overhead, squinting to make out Tonyís glare at someone else.

"Boss? Hey, keep the eyes closed, okay? Youíve got a concussion," Tony said quietly, leaning close.

Jethro closed his eyes and replied faintly, "No kidding, really?"

A soft chuckle filled the air and Tony observed, "Good thing youíve got a hard head."

"Are you okay? They said you were hurt bad," Jethro asked, suddenly remembering DeLeonís words.

Fingers rubbed carefully at his temple, easing some of the tension, as Tony promised, "Iím fine, Boss, it was a mind-fuck on you."

There was noise, like something on wheels entering the room, and someone spoke in French, to which Tony answered, also in French, but Jethro was in too much pain to try and translate with his rusty French. Then Tony continued in English, "Iím going to let these guys do their jobs, Boss. Try not to kill anyone, okay?"

Waving vaguely in his direction, Jethro said, "Iíll leave that to you, DiNozzo."

"Good, because Iíve definitely got it covered," Tony replied, grim.

* * * *

Lounging against a desk, maintaining an innocuous expression that deceived people on a regular basis, Tony waited. Gibbs was being treated for his head injury, and checked over for any others, and in good hands. DeLeon was currently in his superiorís office, presumably being chewed out for the gross actions taken against Tony and Gibbs. And if he wasnít, Tony had every intention of making sure that DeLeonís superior got chewed out by his superior.

It was a good fifteen minutes later that a pretty young woman asked him to follow her to the Commandantís office and Tony was still too pissed to even flirt with her. He passed DeLeon on the way in and the older man looked positively ill, which Tony took for a good sign. Somewhat bolstered by that, but adopting a neutral expression, he entered the large, elegant office.

Meeting him halfway was a large, overweight man in a tidy suit with pale eyes and a mustache. Unsmiling, but offering his hand, the man introduced himself as, "Commandant Forre. Itís a pleasure to meet you, Agent DiNozzo, though I am sorry as to the circumstance."

Tony accepted the hand easily enough and replied, "Same here."

Motioned towards a leather sofa by a set of large, bay windows that overlooked Paris, Tony sat and got comfortable. Forre took the other side of the couch, facing him with a faint smile.

"I must apologize for the way the operation ended, Agent DiNozzo. Iím afraid that in the sudden onset of Agent LaSalleís illness, things went, as you Americans like to say, straight to hell," Forre announced, simultaneously dry and apologetic.

Taking a liking to the older man, Tony replied, "Things happen. As long as the people responsible are held responsible, I have no beef with your agency."

"Not to fear. DeLeon has been properly reprimanded and the circumstances will be most closely reviewed to see what, if any, further actions need to be taken," Forre vowed.

Tony nodded slowly and stayed silent, sensing Forre had more to say.

The faint smile returned on the round face, acknowledging Tonyís silence, and Forre said, "As you know, this isnít a war like any has been fought before and we recruit where we find the best. I have seen your record, Agent DiNozzo, and I must say that despite your tendency to move around, it is an excellent one. You speak a number of languages, most importantly French, come from an excellent background, and your training tests are off the chart, especially for undercover operations. As you have just shown."

Honestly surprised, Tony asked, "Youíre recruiting me?"

Forre nodded. "I am. I can guarantee double your salary, in American dollars of course, and what definitively amounts to a promotion from your current position. We have a division specifically devoted to the war on terror, as your country puts it so frequently, and there is an opening for which I feel you are eminently suited. The director of the unit needs a lead investigator and it would include undercover work in operations like this one, investigations on an international scale, diplomatic duties when necessary and being a liaison between multiple agencies, especially the US ones."

A job offer wasnít exactly what I had in mind when I was thinking ëpayback,í Tony thought, excitement thrumming through him. But shit! What an opportunity!

Keeping his poker face was difficult, but Tony managed it. After a few more seconds, he asked, "Where would I be based?"

"Out of this office."

"What about DeLeon?"

"Your paths might cross now and again, but you wonít be working with him."

Shaking his head in disbelief of the entire strange situation, Tony pointed out, "Youíve never even seen me in action, just read my files. How do you know that Iím the kind of guy youíre looking for?"

Forre paused for a long moment, then explained, "Once it was brought to my attention what had happened, I observed you, Agent DiNozzo. First via video tape in the interrogation room and then via the camera in the main office while you were waiting for this interview. I know that you are exactly the kind of man we are looking for. Your files just confirmed it to me."

His mind awash with possibilities, Tony said, "I have to think about this."

"Of course, itís a big decision," Forre agreed graciously.

It was nice that Forre at least acknowledged the possibility that Tony would say no, however unlikely it was, and reinforced his instinctive liking to the man.

* * * *

Tony opened the hospital door, keeping the coffee cup out of sight as he greeted cheerfully, "Good morning, Boss!"

A sullen glare was his answer, accompanied by, "You better have broughtÖ"

"Coffee, and yes I did," Tony finished for him, still grinning as he brought the large cup over and held it out

Gibbs instantly took off the cover and inhaled the odor before taking a long gulp of it.

Shaking his head in a combination of amusement and honest curiosity, Tony asked, "Do you have any taste buds left?"

"Not that I know of," Gibbs replied complacently, lips twitching almost into a smile as he settled back against the pillows. "Did the doctors talk to you? Because they seem to think a blow to the headÖ"

"Several blows to the head."

"Several blows to the head have made me lose my marbles," Gibbs amended.

Tony smirked. "Not that you had any before that."

"DiNozzo."

"Sorry. Ah, the docs said that you should be good to go in a couple of days," Tony informed him and stepped back in anticipation of the explosion.

"Two days! Are they insane?" Gibbs snapped. "I have better things to do than stay cooped up in a hospital bed for two entire days! Especially without coffee! Sadists."

Shrugging, Tony said, "They want to ëassess your mental state and any possible delayed trauma,í was how they put it. Head injuries are tricky, Boss, you know that. You could be fine today, and then go on a murdering spree because youíre listening to voices no one else can hear, tomorrow."

Gibbs scowled but took another drink of the coffee, calming down a little. "So what are you doing for the next two days?"

"Oh come on, Boss, think about it. Weíre in Paris. Do you know how many beautiful women there are in this city? Even the ugly ones are still babes," Tony exclaimed enthusiastically.

Gibbs went still for a moment, then said slowly, "Youíre kidding, right?"

Tony held the silence for a second, then grinned. "Yes, Boss, Iím kidding."

Eyes rolling, Gibbs announced, "The next time you do something like that, I will beat you about the head with my IV stand."

The grin got bigger as Tony teased, "Aww, you do care."

"TonyÖ"

Tony held up a hand and warned, "Later, Boss."

Blue eyes laced with understanding met his as Gibbs nodded, taking another drink of the coffee. He held out the empty cup and demanded simply, "More."

Tonyís fingers lingered too briefly over Gibbsí around the cup as he took it. He bowed slightly and replied, "As you wish."

* * * *

Thankfully, the time in the hospital went by pretty fast. If he wasnít sleeping or being poked and prodded by the staff, Tony was there to keep him amused and occupied. He discovered that seven years of foreign language tutors had wrought the results of Tony being fluent in Spanish, French, Portuguese, Italian, Arabic, and German. The younger man had dismissed half the accomplishment by scoffing that four out of the six were all romance languages and once youíd learned one, it was easy to learn the others.

That was the extent of the personal tidbits, though, because Tony wouldnít talk about his family, same as usual, and Jethro didnít want to press him. One of these days, he was determined to find out exactly what had brought about the chasm between Tony and his family, but this wasnít the time.

Jethro was more than a little shocked to find out that Tony had been placed on ëadministrative leave, pending investigation into a charge of misconduct,í in order to get him away from NCIS fastest. Kate and the others thought that Tony had gone off to sulk until the time of his review, despite Kateís screeching, Tonyís word, demand that he stick around to get ready for it.

Nothing more was said about the specter of possibility looming between them. It was a tacit agreement to wait until they were at least on familiar soil to breech the subject. Thankfully, the time finally came when he and Tony were heading for the airport. Tony was bouncing about double vacation time heíd accrued and what he was planning to do with it. Jethro snorted and hid a grin at the repeated mention of lots of sun and nude beaches.

When Tony was at the ticket counter, dealing with some snafu over their seats, Jethro noticed a tall, round man staring at him from a short distance away. A few seconds later, the man approached and he tensed, expecting trouble.

The man held out his hand and said, "Commandant Forre, at your service, Special Agent Gibbs. I am LaSalleís superior."

Relaxing a little, Jethro took the hand, replying, "Good to meet you. I was wondering if weíd see you before we left."

"I am sorry it wasnít sooner, but I have been busy dealing with many details from the fallout of both the operation itself, and DeLeonís actions," Forre told him.

Not one to hold a grudge, Jethro responded easily, "I understand."

Forre offered him a small smile. "Merci. I wish to congratulate yourself on young Agent DiNozzoís unswerving loyalty."

Jethroís eyes turned back to Tony, who was arguing animatedly with the clerk and he grinned. "He came through in a pinch, as he always does, yeah."

"No, not that."

Glancing at the other man in surprise, Jethro asked, "Then what?"

"You mean he didnít tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Jethro demanded flatly.

Embarrassed, Forre explained, "I offered him a job with us and he turned me down. I was quite shocked, given how much of a promotion it would have been, and the career he could have had by accepting it."

Shock was a good word for it, Jethro decided numbly as he digested the words.

Clearing his throat, trying to gloss over the awkwardness, Forre said, "Thank you again for your understanding and for your help. We would have a far more difficult time if there had been no one that Ari trusted enough to work with on this operation."

More waves of shock slid over him, but Jethro managed to choke it back and echoed, "Trust?"

Smiling for real, Forre confirmed, "He said to me, the one time we were able to speak, that you were the only one he would trust for this operation. That you would ëget the job done, and do it right,í is how he phrased it. Ah, I see that Agent DiNozzo is about to finish his battle with your air carrier, so I will leave you now. Au revoir, Agent Gibbs."

"Yeah, you too," Jethro replied absently, still chewing over the revelations.

Stalking over to him, Tony announced, "These people, are idiots."

Jethro looked at the other man with new eyes, no longer seeing someone who would be thinking of leaving when things got too familiar or too complicated. He looked at Tony and saw someone who had not only made a commitment, but done so without announcing it, without expecting anything in return.

Something clicked into place deep inside and he finally, truly, looked at Tony through eyes of love.

Clearing his throat, Jethro agreed gruffly, "Itís the airport, DiNozzo, what did you expect?"

* * * *

With a distinct sense of dÈj‡ vu, Tony knew something was off-kilter and it made the interminably long plane ride even more hellish. To all outward appearances, Gibbs was resting easily, occasionally watching the in-flight movie, sometimes reading, sometimes sleeping, sometimes just staring out of the window. But this was one Jethro Gibbs, with a second B for Bastard, after all, and saying that appearances were deceiving was stating the obvious.

Tony tried his best to figure out what was going through the other manís head, but all his attempts at serious conversation were sidestepped. So he waited and worried and wondered, hating all three things with a passion. He called Kate partway through the flight just to relieve some of the tension.

"Where the hell are you, and why does it sound like youíre on a plane?" she demanded without preamble.

Grinning, relaxing quite a bit at her blunt question, Tony answered, "Because I am on a plane. I decided to take a trip to clear my head, just like you suggested."

"Tell me, please tell me, that you arenít serious."

"Sure I am," he answered innocently. "You can hear the plane, right?"

"Well yeah, but you could be at some arcade thing. Please tell me youíre at some arcade thing."

Feeling much more cheerful, Tony replied, "Nope. Definitely on a plane. Why, you donít think thatíll go over well? I mean, the review thingís not until tomorrow, right? I should get back in time."

"Oh God. Itís official. Youíve finally given me an ulcer, DiNozzo. I need to get some antacids. Now."

"DiNozzo," Gibbs warned.

There was a pause before Kate shouted, "Youíre with Gibbs!?"

"Give me the damn phone."

Tony gave him the phone, settling back in his seat and very pleased with himself. He flagged down an attendant and ordered a drink, figuring that he might as well enjoy himself for the last six hours of the flight.

* * * *

Guiding a mostly-drunk DiNozzo to a cab was like trying to herd cats, only not as easy. He settled the younger man in the back seat and ordered the cabbie to keep an eye on him while he went to get the bags. When he returned to the cab, Tony was stretched out and passed out across the back seat. Sighing in aggravation, he helped the cabbie put the bags in the trunk and slid in beside Tony, lifting the oblivious man so that he was sprawled half over him.

Not in any mood to deal with Tonyís apartment, he gave the cabbie directions to his own house. He didnít even try to ignore how good it felt to hold Tony, especially when the younger man curled up against him. Cradling him, Jethro ran a soothing hand up and down Tonyís back, not caring what the cabbie might think. Once in his driveway, he took care of the bags and then paid the cabbie before slinging DiNozzo over a shoulder.

It took some doing, but he managed to get Tony into the house and onto the sofa without dropping him. An accomplishment considering how exhausted he, himself, was. For a long moment after setting Tony on the sofa, Jethro just knelt on the floor beside him, his forehead on the broad, slightly sweat-dampened chest.

Sitting back on his heels, Jethro just watched Tony sleep. He lost track of time, letting his eyes roam over the slack face and busy eyes behind their lids. Leaning closer, Jethro combed his fingers through the thick, flyaway hair, vainly attempting to bring some order. Grinning fondly, he muttered, "Night, DiNozzo. Hope the hangoverís worth whatever it was you were trying to forget."

Jethro stood and walked blindly to the front door, locking it and going to his bedroom so he could also pass out, though without benefit of alcohol, or worry of hangovers.

* * * *

Waking to the sound of retching was not the most pleasant experience, but Jethro had had worse and it sounded like Tony was in bad shape. Rubbing his eyes, he rolled slowly out of bed, feeling the time change and the lack of sleep, not to mention a faint ringing in his ears leftover from his head injury. The half-healed scabs of stitches in his scalp itched fiercely, but he ignored them and walked to the hall bathroom.

Tony was on the tiled floor, forehead pressed to the alter of the Porcelain God and clutching his stomach.

A distinctly evil impulse took him and he asked loudly, "Feel better?"

Tony groaned and dry heaved a couple of times before managing to control himself. A half-hearted glare was tossed at Jethro, who shook his head and observed, "Pitiful, DiNozzo, just pitiful. Hang on, Iíll get you something thatíll scare the hangover away."

"No, Boss, please. Just leave me alone," Tony groaned.

Grinning, Jethro left the bathroom and set about preparing the hangover remedy that worked every time. When he returned, Tony was in the same position and he knelt beside him, offering the glass of brownish liquid. "Donít ask whatís in it, just drink it slowly."

Tony squinted suspiciously at the glass, but took it. Cringing, he started drinking and halfway through, looked at Jethro in surprise.

"Donít say anything, just finish it off," Jethro ordered.

Nodding, Tony did so and handed back the glass. "Thanks, Gibbs. My head still feels like it was cut off with a buzz saw, but my mouth doesnít taste like gym shorts anymore."

"Glad to hear it, now take a shower ëcause you stink," Gibbs informed him, offering a hand up.

"Youíre all heart, Boss."

"And donít you forget it."

Eyes rolling, Tony turned towards the shower and Gibbs left him to it. As tempting as the thought of all that bare skin was, he was in no way going to risk Tony throwing up all over him if the hangover cure didnít take. And if he offered to shower with Tony, the shock alone could cause that to happen.

It was almost an hour later that Tony came into the kitchen, looking mostly human again, in jeans and a t-shirt.

"Found your bags, I see," Jethro observed.

Nodding, Tony took the seat opposite him and said, "Thanks for everything. I donít even remember anything after we hit that rough patch of turbulence."

Gibbs shrugged. "No problem. Howís your stomach? Up for some juice?"

"Just about," Tony agreed after thinking it over for a few seconds.

Retrieving a glass and pouring the juice took all of thirty seconds and when Tony reached for it, their fingers met around the glass, just like they had the coffee cup in the hospital. The memory hit him hard and just like that, Gibbs was on fire.

Tonyís eyes widened as Jethro dipped down and took his mouth in a possessive kiss. Heíd been thinking and imaging what it would be like for much too long to be patient any longer. When Tony gasped into the kiss, Jethro was vaguely glad that the other man had brushed his teeth after his unpleasant wake-up call. Lacing his fingers through Tonyís hair, he devoured the other man, starving for as much contact as possible, and from the response, so was Tony.

The kitchen chair was kicked away as Tony stood, his arms sliding around Jethroís waist and pushing him back against the nearby counter. Yanking up the t-shirt, Jethro slid his hands beneath the waistband in a rough massage. Moaning at the intimate contact, Tony didnít protest when Jethro turned them around so that he was against the counter and Jethro was again the one on the attack.

Fumbling at the damned button-down fly, Jethro broke the kiss to take a quick look at what he was doing and Tony yanked his t-shirt off in that time. Jethro latched onto a nipple as he finished with the last button, provoking a gasping groan from Tony, who arched into the sucking. Finally, his hand closed around the hardening length under the underwear, carefully pulling it free. Tony shuddered, hips jerking as Jethro stroked him.

His concentration was interrupted when one of Tonyís hands gripped his cock through his own jeans and the other started undoing the zipper. He groaned around Tonyís nipple as the other rubbed him hard through the fabric and then closed around him, skin to skin. Things went fast and furious from there and Jethro seized Tonyís mouth again as they jerked each other off. Orgasm shattered through him and he splattered Tonyís abs with his seed a few seconds before Tony did the same to him, staining his shirt.

The kiss finally gentled, becoming one of love, not just need and lust, reconnecting them. Jethro wrapped his arms around Tonyís shoulders and leaned on him, lazily possessing his mouth again. When this one finished, he pulled back and stared into the hazel eyes, murmuring with complete sincerity and love, "Itís about damn time."

Tony started laughing, a deep, belly laugh that prompted a large grin from Jethro.

* * * *

The worst thing about it, Kate decided, was that she was the only one out of the loop. At least, she was pretty sure. Gibbs and Tony had arrived the afternoon of Tonyís supposed ëreviewí only to announce that it had been taken care of internally and Kate was ordered to, ëget your crap off my desk,í from Gibbs. Tony had just given her an innocent expression that she believed not a whit.

Abby had been avoiding her like the plague for the last forty-eight hours, which meant that the other woman definitely knew what was going on. Ducky was harder to read. She wasnít sure if he was miffed because he didnít know, or relieved that whatever had happened, was over. Maybe both. If she found out that McGee knew, she was going to shoot herself.

As it was, life returned to normal in real short order and all Kate could say, a few times because it really was a relief, was, "Itís about damn time."

When she said that to Tony one night a week or so after he and Gibbs had gotten back from wherever, heíd flushed a brilliant red, turned tail and ran. She glanced at Gibbs, who was sitting at his desk studiously not looking at either of them, and suspiciously without expression.

Mystified by the reactions, Kate just shook her head and went back to work.