SF part 1 - Silent Night

by firechild

Rated T+ (to be safe)

Warnings: Discipline of a sort; angst; sappiness; reference to a much, much higher power; and just to clarify, though I'd hope that I wouldn't need to, this is not slash or bdsm in any way, shape, or form. Oh, and it hasn't been betaed.

Disclaimer: I own the oc's; Rival owns Crock Pot, and the canon characters belong to someone who can afford more than one bottle of rolaids at a time.

A/N: This is my sad excuse for a Christmas gift for Marie. I'm sorry, sweetie; this is my first actual attempt at writing NCIS, and this is very much not what I had in mind when I started this story.

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12-15-07 18:32PM

"You finish scouting for jobs on my phone?"

Startled, Tony jerked his head up to see the light come on and Gibbs descend the basement stairs. Not bothering to ask how the older man knew what he'd been doing when Gibbs had come to check on him during lunch, Tony looked down again, fumbling to move the tarp back into place over what he'd been looking at before Gibbs could see, then shrugging one shoulder and trying to hide a wince. "Not a lot of career opportunities out there for a guy like me," he said lightly. "I'll pay your bill, don't worry."

Gibbs sighed a little. "DiNozzo, you do realize that all you had to was ask, right? I don't care about the long distance; I'd have helped you find what you needed. Heck, I'd have dialed for you." Except that he wasn't so sure that he would have, not knowing that Tony was putting out job feelers, especially for places that would take the younger man away. He wandered over to check the sanding on the keel of the boat, wondering why Tony was down here, and why he'd been sitting in the dark. "Seriously, aren't you jumping the gun a little bit? You don't even really know what's going to happen; I, for one, would prefer to count on hearing that I'll be smacking you around the office and listening to you bicker with McGee and Ziva until you all finally drive me well and truly insane. Now, if you'd really rather do something else..."

"No!"

The answer was so sharp and immediate that Gibbs nearly chuckled, but then he looked up and saw the look in Tony's eyes--something Gibbs could only describe as terror--and the amusement died. "Hey." Gibbs started toward the younger man but stopped as Tony stepped back. Gibbs held up his hands in a non-threatening gesture. "Hey," he said again, softer. He took another step toward his protege, and couldn't go any farther as he actually watched Tony shut down on him. Gibbs was so shocked for a moment, having only seen Tony do that to him once and having thought that they would never be back at that point--at this point--that he didn't move as the young agent he'd secretly begun to think of as something akin to a son bolted past him and up the stairs. "DiNozzo!"

There was no response. Gibbs shook his head, running a hand through his hair in an uncharacteristic gesture of frustration. Unable to concentrate on his boat, he went upstairs, figuring that he might as well get comfortable because it looked like another long night. He'd had a lot of those lately, too many, but he also knew that if he hadn't slept more than a couple of hours each night, Tony hadn't slept at all, not without the drugs, and while it might have had something to do with the fact that the ex-cop hadn't seen his own bed in a week, the older agent was starting to suspect that there was more going on in that thick head than just thoughts of how he'd make it financially if NCIS dismissed him.

He sighed again to himself as he stepped out of the shower a few minutes later, drying off and dressing while still mulling over Tony. What was he supposed to do with him? Sure, the boy put up a good front, managing to lull everyone else in the office into believing that he'd all but beaten this and would be back in a few days (so how had he gotten job leads, if not from Abby?) but Gibbs had known him longer and he could see that the young man was not doing well with this. Not that Gibbs could blame him, but a discouraged DiNozzo was as bone-deep wrong as a quiet Abby. He'd been warned to watch for depression, told that it was normal in situations like this, though what could be normal about this 'situation' Gibbs didn't want to know, but if he was honest with himself, he hadn't really considered it, considered what he'd do, because he'd figured that if he didn't acknowledge the possibility, then it wouldn't happen. Gibbs hated to admit that, even to himself, but he couldn't get around it now. Now here was the dragon, laughing at him with teeth bared, mocking him for a fool, and it was ticking him off. He had the urge to treat Tony like a pouting plebe, to yell and work and embarrass the younger man out of his funk, but Gibbs was a man who'd learned to live by his gut outside of the crime scene tape, and as there seemed to be a lack of tape around his house just now, he had to go on his gut; unfortunately, instinct didn't always provide the easy out. He needed to help Tony, and what his gut told him now was that Tony didn't need the angry Marine--he should save that for the field and the interrogation room--but Gibbs wasn't sure that he could be what Tony needed now. Gibbs didn't do soft, hadn't done soft for sixteen years, except with Abby, and she was a special case.

Then what did that make Tony?

His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the landline downstairs, and just for a moment, he stopped breathing, remembering the last time he'd heard that ring and answered it.