Partnership 3/4
It had been a week since their argument. A week in which they hadn't spoken to each other. Not one word. Gibbs had eventually resorted to getting Ziva and McGee to relay his orders to Tony. Not angrily, but with a patient resignation that just made Tony feel worse. He could see the curiosity in McGee and Ziva's eyes; the compassion in Abby and Ducky's, but no-one quite dared to ask what was wrong between the two men. Tony just felt so unhappy, and his continuing bouts of sickness didn't help.
It wasn't much better at home. They avoided each other. Separate bedrooms, separate lives. Tony's most pathetic moment came the night before, when he had picked up the wooden knife block that rested on the kitchen workbench and pressed it to his cheek. He had breathed in the smell of oak-wood with a sigh. It reminded him of the scent of sawdust that lingered around Gibbs after he had been working on his boat.
His sense of smell seemed acute lately. Especially in the morning.
Tony moaned, wishing that he had a cold or something so that he couldn't smell every last molecule in the air surrounding him. Another miserable start to the day. He hadn't even managed to make it downstairs before the nausea hit. The faint scent of Gibbs' first coffee of the day had drifted upwards and the slight odour had triggered one of his all-too-frequent upchucking fits.
So here he was again, sprawled on the bathroom floor, utterly miserable, trying to maintain the shreds of his dignity whilst losing the contents of his stomach. A fresh wave of sickness hit and he clutched shakily at the porcelain until it passed.
A sound behind him, then a familiar big hand stroking his back, gently soothing. Gibbs didn't say anything, just sat on the edge of the tub and continued the comforting motion of his hand. Tony found himself leaning against Gibbs' leg as the spasms gradually eased, his lover's warmth gradually counteracting the seeping chill of the porcelain tiles that he sat on.
"Better?" Gibbs sounded concerned. Tony nodded shakily, "You want to come in late this morning? I'll okay it."
"Thanks." Tony nodded, hating himself for sounding so pathetically grateful. Their eyes met. There was only concern in Gibbs' eyes. Tony found that he was the first to break that gaze. Yet the ice between them had begun to thaw.
The fact that Gibbs was being kind to him didn't change anything. There was still that lack of trust. The problem was that Gibbs really didn't know how to conduct a relationship. Not that Tony had ever managed to sustain anything longer than a couple of months himself, but at least he knew how to talk things out with a lover. There was something between them though, which might well be love - at least Tony hoped so in his more optimistic moments. Something good, that had so much potential for the future.
What was it they said? The greatest love can cause the greatest pain... Why else would Jethro Gibbs be like a bear with a sore head in the office since their argument?
****
It took Tony at least an hour to pull himself together that morning, which was annoying for the young agent. Hormones, huh? Maybe Ducky was wrong - could he be suffering from something weird and exotic like House was always diagnosing in Tony's favourite medical drama? In that show, even the medical experts couldn't seem to get it right first time. Whatever. Tony hated being ill - and he determined to work twice as hard today to make up for his late start. The others would have been delving deep into the ongoing marine corruption enquiry at Quantico and knowing how Jethro felt about marines, the day was probably going to go downhill fast.
In fact, Tony could sense the stormy atmosphere in the Bullpen as soon as he walked out of the elevator. Apparently their latest case was not going well. The frustrations Gibbs felt were just reaching boiling point.
As Tony reached his desk, Gibbs snarled incoherently and slammed his fist against his desk. Tony had seen him this way on only a handful of occasions over the years - always the hardest, most difficult of cases. Jethro cared, more deeply than he would ever admit, about catching the bad guys - and his frustration couldn't be hidden. Not that Jethro Gibbs ever tried to hide it.
At times like these, the team generally kept their heads down and tried not to attract his attention - especially now that he had the reputation of killing someone who had threatened Tony. With his bare hands.
Practically speaking though, Gibbs in a monster of a temper was always bad.
Yeah well, Tony had seen him at his worst, with blood on his hands and horror in his eyes. Tony had felt those strong arms crushing him close; the wild passion between them when Jethro had practically fucked him through the floor. A force of nature...
Without hesitation, he approached Jethro's desk. A brief, scared glance from McGee made him feel oddly like Daniel in the lion's den, but at the same time he knew - soul deep - that he was the one person in the world who need never fear Jethro Gibbs' fists.
A hand on his lover's shoulder, half-hesitant, close enough to Gibbs to feel the heat of his body; the scent of him. Fists were one thing, but Tony knew that a look of contempt could wound him just as much from this man, as any physical act of violence, so he was more than a little apprehensive as he approached his partner.
Gibbs turned towards him, and stormy blue eyes impaled Tony in their gaze.
"Jethro?"
Not "boss." Tony kept his tone low and intimate, trying to convey with his eyes and his touch and his voice, how much he cared about the ex-marine, even when he was in this sort of mood. How worried he was.
For a moment, he thought that Gibbs was going to yell at him, but then those blue eyes softened just a fraction. For the briefest moment, Gibbs accepted Tony's touch, leaning against him.
The contact seemed to strengthen him. Then, being Gibbs, the moment was over and the older man was all business again. Well, almost.
"Can't you find anything more useful to do, DiNozzo?" he snapped.
"No, boss." Tony smirked, falling into his familiar, impertinent role. Besides which, nothing was more important to him than Jethro's well-being.
Gibbs said nothing; merely raising one eyebrow. Tony took the hint, noting nonetheless that his lover's anger had given way to something better, more constructive. The thaw continued.
"On it, boss."
Even as he headed back to his desk, he heard a muttered "Wow!" from McGee's direction. He winked at the probie, then determinedly got to work. No sense in pushing Gibbs too far...
****
Tony worked for a couple of hours on the utterly boring job of reviewing the latest crop of incident reports sent to NCIS headquarters from the local field offices. It was his job to decide every morning whether anything merited the attention of the Major Case Squad. There were the usual crop of partner rages, shoplifting cases, marines getting rolled after a drunken evening in the worst part of town, etc. Then he would help out with the case, chasing phone leads or doing research on the Internet. Gibbs' idea of desk work until he was 100 percent fit.
"Take you to lunch?" McGee asked just after midday. "I've got the latest gossip from the gremlins in the evidence garage. Wait till you hear who's getting married..."
Tony hesitantly glanced over at Gibbs, trying to gauge his mood. The older man raised his head momentarily from whatever report he was reading, and gave a nod of permission. Though he didn't smile, Tony could tell he was amused - Gibbs knew only too well how much his partner liked to gossip.
"Go ahead. Take an hour. You're still recuperating - I guess I can cut you some slack." Tony didn't miss the brief, reassuring flash of warmth in his lover's eyes. Better. Definitely better.
McGee, visibly relaxing now that the latest Gibbs-crisis had passed, was as entertaining as he had hoped, and Tony found himself relaxing too, enjoying lunch. Only it would have been so much better with Jethro at his side. Not that McGee would have been comfortable with that.
"I wish I could get Gibbs to change his wardrobe," Tony sighed. "The Sears look went out in the late seventies. Maybe I can persuade him to wear something a bit more... upmarket."
I can't see Gibbs in Armani," McGee said tartly.
Tony sighed. Gibbs + well-cut suit = sexy in his mind.
"Yeah, well. Maybe he'll surprise you some day," Tony said defensively. "Mind you, there's a whole Jekyll and Hyde laundry thing going on with him. He has an obsession about ironing straight seams in his pants. His marine training, I guess. I swear I've seen him using a ruler to check how straight they are..."
"Talking about Gibbs' pants! Definitely too much information, Tony." The young agent grinned and winked slyly at McGee.
"So you're speaking now?" McGee said quietly. Tony flushed and gave a brief nod. After this morning, the thaw was underway. He felt more optimistic than he had in a long time. They still needed to talk, but Jethro's gentleness this morning when he had been sick had broken the ice between them.
So when he did come into the office after lunch, Tony was carrying a coffee from Gibbs' favourite coffee shop - the best Jamaican Blue Mountain blend, freshly roasted and ground. He placed it on the end of Gibbs' desk and was aware of his partner's eyes on him as he went to his cubicle. He didn't give Gibbs a chance to thank him, or even to talk. He hadn't completely forgiven his partner. Not yet. But that didn't mean he'd stopped loving him.
Didn't they say that most relationships reached a crisis point after about three months, when the initial heady mixture of lust and attraction between two people began to fade. Physical attraction, however powerful - and what could be stronger than the partner virus - was not enough to guarantee happiness. There needed to be something else, deeper and more meaningful, to turn lust into a more lasting bond between two people.
Tony couldn't help but brood on his troubles. Jethro wasn't an easy man to get to know - it had taken two months for him to admit his waffle preference, for pete's sake. Tony felt as if their relationship was teetering on the brink between success and failure, and he was surprised how much he wanted it to succeed.
It wasn't easy, in some ways, living with Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Maybe it was because they were in each other's company for long periods, both at work and at home. Perhaps a break from each other would have been a wiser option. But damn it, Tony liked being with his partner, even though their relationship was far from perfect. The sex was fabulous and it was definitely the cement holding their relationship together. It was the other things that brought problems. Tony loved to laugh. He loved to joke and act the fool, and maybe Jethro was... Well... Too mature in some ways.
The boss did his best, sure, but sometimes Tony could tell that his words and ideas were gibberish to Gibbs. Incomprehensible. For instance, mention Francois Truffaut to Gibbs and he thought it was some sort of French candy. Their minds just didn't meet. Paradigm shift. And sometimes he could tell that his frivolity irritated the older man. Jethro wouldn't comment on Tony's foolishness, whatever it was, but he would retreat into himself and would disappear into the basement to work on his boat. His own personal space, away from Tony. That boat was his safety valve.
Tony had a love-hate relationship with that boat. He generally resented it. Though on a couple of memorable occasions, Jethro had pushed him up against one of the spars and... Tony smiled at the memory. The smell of sawdust could still, under certain circumstances, make him as hard as hell.
******
The ice began to thaw further that night.
Tony was restless in bed, alone in one of the guest bedrooms, away from Gibbs. Having the older man's arms around him made him feel secure, content. Alone, he felt as if half of him was missing, and every night seemed lonelier than the last. So he was only dozing lightly when he heard Jethro cry out in his sleep. He knew immediately what was wrong; his partner had suffered too many unexplained bad dreams lately.
He found himself moving, entering Jethro's room, crossing to the bed. His partner was asleep, but apparently dreaming; his movements were agitated, and he moaned, the sound desperate and somehow frightened. He knew he should leave - the man claimed he could cope - and it was a sign of weakness, as if he were giving in to Jethro. But letting the older man suffer wasn't the act of a loving partner, and whatever their problems were, Tony loved Leroy Jethro Gibbs. No contest.
He reached out for Jethro and pulled him close.
"Shhh. It's alright. It's just a dream."
Gibbs clung to him, shaking, head on Tony's chest. The young agent found himself stroking Gibbs, soothing him. Gibbs began to relax, his breathing steadying. He didn't wake, this time round. Tony's fingers curved round the back of Gibbs' neck, holding onto him. It seemed like such a long time since he had lain in his lover's arms; in truth, just holding his lover eased some of the emptiness that ached inside him. He shamelessly snuggled closer to the sleeping man, breathing in his scent, relishing the warmth of the older man's body close to his, on this cool night. He must have lain awake, enjoying the feel of his lover's arms, for an hour. Then it happened.
"Mmmm. Shannon..." Gibbs murmured in his sleep, his arms tightening around his partner. The lines of tension eased from his face and he gave a contented sigh. Tony lay still, frozen, for a long time before he could worm his way out of his lover's arms and creep miserably back to his own cold, lonely bed. Which one of the ex-wives was that?
He didn't sleep much after that, and found himself heading to the office at six a.m. feeling wretched and lonely. However, he wasn't he only person at the office that morning.
"Good morning Agent DiNozzo."
Tony scowled. He was miserable again; his mind was in turmoil, and the tension inside him was such that what he really wanted to do was find an empty lot, stand in the middle of it and scream himself hoarse. The only good thing about the morning was that he hadn't got sick today. His mood must have shown on his face, for the director paused and studied his face. Whatever she saw must have concerned her, because she gestured towards her office in invitation.
"I've been meaning to have a talk with you, Tony. Sit." The young agent sank into a seat in front of her desk, feeling curiously like a kid in front of the principal again. "Things have been a little tense in the office recently... How shall I put this? Because you and Jethro aren't getting along."
"That's none of your business!"
"I'm not trying to interfere, Tony. I just want to help." She looked genuinely concerned. "I've known Jethro for ten years now. Believe me, I know how difficult he can be."
"He doesn't trust me..." Tony said. "He gets nightmares and he won't talk to me about them. He refuses to talk about his past. I feel so shut out!" He slumped in his seat. "We had a stupid argument about it."
"Tony, you're an idiot! He doesn't talk to anyone, not even Ducky who's known him a lot longer than we have."
Before he could stop himself, Tony heard himself blurt out the question that had consumed him for the past three hours.
"Who's Shannon?" Her eyes widened and he saw something infinitely sad appear in them.
"He hasn't told you?" She sighed. "Why should he? He was always close-mouthed when it came to his personal life. Why change the habits of a lifetime?" She turned towards her computer and tapped something on the keyboard, then turned the screen so he could see the picture which had appeared - an image of a smiling woman and child.
She was a redhead, Tony noted distantly, and beautiful, like their little girl.
"Jethro's first wife Shannon and his six year old daughter Kelly. The reason he joined NCIS in the first place." She paused. Tony had gone very pale. She reached out her hand and squeezed his fingers. "They were both murdered while he was serving overseas."
"Oh god," Tony whispered. His problems seemed insignificant compared to the scale of Jethro's loss.
"He cares about you Tony. Don't ever doubt it. Anyone who watches the two of you together can see it. But you need to realise what a big thing that is for him... I don't think he's let anyone get that close to him in a long time - and I'm including the ex-wives in that statement. You've got in past his defences." A pause. "After that chef attacked you, I saw him in the hospital. I've never seen him look like that before in all the time I've known him... Terrified. He was scared for you, Tony, because he loves you, and the last time he loved someone that deeply, they died...."
As he left her office, Tony felt more confused than ever. He sat brooding behind his desk for hours. He tried to work, a couple of times, but he achieved little. He was merely marking time until Jethro arrived at the NCIS. Part of him just wanted to be held by his partner; the other half still felt a mixture of compassion and frustration for his uncommunicative partner.
Dead on 7 a.m. the lift doors opened, and Tony looked up, expecting to see his partner. Instead, Abby emerged from the lift. She raised an eyebrow when she saw him.
"You look rough, Tony. Bad night?"
"You have no idea!" Tony rubbed his eyes tiredly, trying to ignore the beginnings of a headache.
"The boss called," she said softly. "He asked me to pass on a message to you."
Tony winced. How had things got so bad between them, that Jethro was still wary of calling him without going through an intermediary?
"He's finishing up that case. The corruption enquiry at Quantico. It looks like an inside job. They're gonna be a while!" She paused. "Tony, your eyes..."
"Huh?" The young agent stared at her.
"Your eyes are really dark right now. You feeling alright?" He understood her concern. It was well known by now that you could tell partners were under stress when their pupils were enlarged. Not that he cared right now.
Tony scowled at her. "Just leave it!"
"Fine! Excuse me for caring!" She stomped off.
Tony leaned his head in his hands and wondered how much worse the day could get.
******
End of Partnership 3/4
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.