Disclaimer: NCIS and its characters do not belong to me and this story is not intended as an infringement of copyright. It has been written solely for entertainment and no profit has been made from its creation.

A/N:- This is the final chapter of Mistaken Identity. It's longer than usual to allow me to tie up a few loose ends. I hope you enjoy it, L

MISTAKEN IDENTITY

Chapter 27

"Son of a bitch!" Gibbs hissed, switching off the TV and wrestling with the urge to throw the remote at the opposite wall.

"This isn't happening," Tony whispered, as his breathing grew more rapid and his heart pounded painfully against his sternum.

He was drowning in a deluge of desperation that he couldn't put into words. Blood pumped so rapidly through his throbbing head that he could scarcely hear anything else and he pressed the heel of his hand to his temple to lessen the pain. He was gasping for breath but no matter how much air he drew in, it wasn't enough.

A familiar face appeared before him, calming him, bolstering him and encouraging him to take deep breaths until he felt his heart rate slow and the red mist that had engulfed him, lifted.

"You back with me?" Gibbs asked; his blue eyes filled with concern.

Still not able to find his voice, the younger man nodded his head slowly.

"Tony, I want you to listen to me…this is not over," he said. "You got that? This is not over."

"I gotcha, Boss," Tony whispered with little confidence.

00—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—00

The door burst open and Abby led the charge into the room.

"Tony!" she exclaimed, carefully wrapping her arms around his waist and placing her head on his good shoulder.

"I'm terribly sorry, Anthony," Ducky said. "We saw the news broadcast and they were determined to get in to see you. I'm afraid I was outnumbered and outflanked."

"It's okay, Ducky," Tony replied.

"Quick, Tony, we don't have much time!" Abby said.

"Time?"

"We've got it all planned."

"What's planned?"

"Say the word and we'll bust you out of here, Mugsy" McGee said, frowning as Tony barely acknowledged him.

"We can split up and head for the border – and you can recite your Tommy Lee Jones speech as much as you like, yes?" Ziva said.

"We'll make like mint sauce and go on the lamb," Palmer said.

"For goodness sake, Mr Palmer, as I have just finished explaining to Ziva, the word is lam without the 'b'. It's a common enough mistake, I suppose, after all lam is not a word that is often used. Unless one is in China where Lam is a common Cantonese surname, and a variant of the Mandarin surname, Lin."

"Ducky?" Abby said.

"Oh, of course, my dear, a story for another time."

Despite himself, Tony dredged up a small smile and tightened his one armed hug around Abby.

"It's gonna be okay," he told them.

The forensic specialist didn't respond as she struggled with her own emotions. Abby looked at her friend and her green eyes pooled with unshed tears. When she blinked, a tear escaped and Tony reached out a long finger to stop its path down her cheek.

"S'gonna be okay," he whispered again, placing a kiss on her temple.

Gibbs watched proudly as his agent gathered his considerable strength of will to defeat his rising panic. Only moments ago, it had threatened to rip asunder the protective walls he had built around his real emotions. Now, with the walls reinforced and the mask firmly back in place, he was the one offering comfort to his friends.

McGee's cell rang and he looked at his senior field agent, frowning again as Tony turned away. "Caldwell's on his way up with the federal marshals," he said.

Tony took a deep breath, letting it out in a long, controlled exhale.

"Gotta go. My ride's here," he said, giving Abby one last hug.

Being careful not to jostle Tony's shoulder, Ziva moved in for a quick hug, repeating the Hebrew words she whispered the previous night.

"Anachno nachzir otcha habaita, Tony," she told him sincerely.

"Gesundheit, Ziva," he said with a grin.

Palmer shook Tony's hand. "Take care, Tony."

Tony nodded, trying to get through the awkward goodbyes as quickly as possible, when Ducky moved to his side and captured the younger man's right hand in both of his.

"The true measure of a man is how he reacts to adversity, not good fortune. I have never been more proud to know you, Anthony DiNozzo. Rest assured, my boy, we will work tirelessly to prove your innocence and bring you home to us."

"Thanks, Ducky," Tony said, in a raspy voice.

McGee extended his hand andTony grasped it in a firm handshake, only holding his gaze for a moment before averting his eyes and releasing his grip.

"Stay strong, Tony, we'll have you out of there in no time," McGee said.

"Thanks, McGee," Tony said.

The IT specialist never thought he'd see the day when he'd find himself wishing for a 'probie' or a 'McGoo' from his senior field agent.

"We'll give you a moment," Ducky said, once again herding the others out of the room.

"You ready?" Gibbs asked.

Tony breathed deeply. "I'm ready, Boss."

Gibbs looked at his agent and saw many things in his eyes, things he would never speak, despite their closeness. There would be no goodbyes, not until all possible alternatives had been exhausted...and probably not even then.

The unspoken promise was given and received in the space of seconds, in the time it took for blue eyes to meet green, in the nod that asked for trust and the nod that gave it unconditionally.

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The door opened abruptly and Caldwell and two federal marshals entered the room.

With a smug look of contempt cast in Gibbs' direction, Caldwell ordered the marshals to get Tony on his feet while he read him his rights.

Despite their attempt to support him, Tony was unable to hold back a stifled yell when the movement sent a shaft of white-hot pain searing through him to every nerve ending.

"Hey! Easy!" Gibbs objected, inserting himself between the marshals and his agent.

Tony forced his breath through clenched teeth; closing his eyes and breathing through the residual spasm.

"Agent Gibbs," Caldwell said. "Perhaps you should leave."

"DiNozzo is my agent. I'm travelling with him and staying until they have him settled into the infirmary wing at the CDF," Gibbs said. "You got a problem with that, take it up with Warden Evans."

"You spoke to the Warden?"

"Toured the Persian Gulf with his brother. Small world," Gibbs replied, his lips curling in a grin as Caldwell's eyes darkened with barely contained anger.

"You'll have to surrender your weapons or you don't get on the vehicle," Caldwell snapped. "That's SOP."

Gibbs removed his sidearm and then placed his foot on a nearby chair to take his spare from his ankle holster. As Caldwell reached for the weapons, Gibbs turned his back and called through the open door.

"McGee!"

McGee appeared momentarily and Gibbs handed him his weapons and signalled for him to return to the waiting area.

"He needs to be restrained," Caldwell said.

"Take a look at him, Caldwell. His shoulder's busted and he can hardly stand up! You think he's gonna make a run for it?"

Caldwell's face coloured with frustration as he waved the federal marshals away. "Let's go!"

"We'll need a wheelchair," Gibbs said.

"No, Boss! No chair," Tony replied. "If I'm gonna go, I'm gonna walk. No chair...please."

Gibbs noted the beads of perspiration already gathering on his agent's forehead and the fine tremors indicating the exertion on his weakened body. He knew that Tony would make the distance if he had to crawl but he was determined to ensure it didn't come to that. Positioning himself by Tony's right side, he allowed his agent to set the pace and guided him out the door and into the waiting area.

Flanked by federal marshals the younger man chanced a look to the corner of the room where his friends and colleagues stood offering their silent support. He stumbled slightly into Gibbs, nodding his thanks as the team leader placed a steadying hand around his bicep and another in the middle of his back. They made it to the elevator, Gibbs growing more concerned as Tony's breathing became laboured and his body trembled from exertion.

The soft ding of the elevator sounded and before the door opened fully, Tobias Fornell burst from the car almost knocking DiNozzo on his ass.

"Damn it, Tobias!" Gibbs cursed as he struggled to keep Tony on his feet.

The senior FBI agent was gasping loudly as he tried to catch his breath. Looking around wildly, he spotted a television in the corner of the waiting area and yelled to McGee.

"Get that TV on!" he looked at Gibbs, his lips curling in a grin. "You're not gonna want to miss this."

As Caldwell began to protest, Fornell cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"You, too, Caldwell, this concerns you."

The puzzled group moved back into the waiting area as the television screen came to life and the image of Diane Fontaine at the WXEK News desk appeared.

"In a move described by many political opponents as a blatant attempt to buy votes, former FBI senior agent and newly endorsed Congressional candidate, Larry Caldwell, today named Naval Criminal Investigative Service, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo as the man responsible for shooting two FBI agents."

"We cross live now to George Washington University Hospital where FBI Director, Neil Timmins, and NCIS Director, Leon Vance, have breaking news regarding this matter. Good morning gentlemen, thank you for joining us."

"Good morning Diane," the directors replied simultaneously.

"Director Timmins, according to our information FBI Agent Nathan Cole was shot and critically wounded several days ago, is that correct?"

"Yes, Diane, while in the performance of his duties, Agent Cole received critical gunshot wounds and has been fighting for his life here at GWU hospital ever since."

"I'm told you have new information in regard to this matter."

"We do," Timmins replied. "Agent Cole regained consciousness in the early hours of this morning and his doctors are confident that he will make a full recovery."

"That is wonderful news, Director. Was Agent Cole able to tell you who shot him?"

"In a brief statement Agent Cole advised that he saw his partner, Agent Don Higgins gunned down by known criminal Carlos Torres," Timmins said. "Moments later, as he attempted to leave the building to wait for back-up, Agent Cole located Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo in an office - he appeared to be unconscious. Before he could get to him, he was shot from behind."

"So, Special Agent DiNozzo could not have shot Agent Higgins or Agent Cole," Diane said.

"That is correct," Vance said. "Special Agent DiNozzo has been exonerated of all charges effective immediately."

Almost overcome with relief, Tony leaned heavily against Gibbs, as his increasingly unsteady legs demanded he take his weight off of them.

"McGee, give me a hand! Palmer, get a chair," Gibbs directed, as Tony swayed precariously.

With the chair quickly in place and Tony seated, Gibbs gave the younger man's good shoulder an encouraging squeeze as they continued to watch the news bulletin.

"Director Vance, according to Larry Caldwell, there was sufficient evidence against Special Agent DiNozzo to warrant an arrest, isn't that right?"

"The evidence against DiNozzo was all circumstantial, nothing had been proved. Yet in an act not sanctioned by his agency director, DiNozzo was shot by an FBI sniper and almost killed. I will be demanding a full inter-agency inquiry into who authorised such an extreme action that could have resulted in the death of an innocent man."

"I would think this situation would be extremely embarrassing for Senator Barnaby and will have all but destroyed any political aspirations held by Larry Caldwell," Diane stated. "Director Timmins, would you be willing to consider rescinding Caldwell's resignation?"

"Mr Caldwell's resignation has already been accepted and processed, it would be highly unlikely that decision would be reversed."

Gibbs nodded to McGee to switch off the television as the weight of many sets of eyes bore down upon a sickly pale Larry Caldwell.

"I don't believe it!" Caldwell snapped at Fornell. "You set me up! You arranged for Cole to say those things to undermine me! You've been trying to make me look foolish ever since I took over your case!"

"If DiNozzo really killed Higgins and shot Cole, what possible reason would Cole have to cover for him?" Fornell replied.

"You just couldn't stand to see me succeed where you failed. I did my job!" the man blustered. " I followed the trail of evidence! Evidence that told me DiNozzo was guilty - the gun, his fingerprints, his expertise with a handgun."

"None of that proved he pulled the trigger," Gibbs hissed through clenched teeth. "If you hadn't been in such a hurry to star in your own damn political circus we could have proved that."

"I gave you every opportunity to prove DiNozzo was innocent – you couldn't," Caldwell sneered. "Besides, in case you have forgotten, the FBI had already questioned DiNozzo on two separate occasions for suspicion of murder. Add that to his father's rather dubious business dealings…"

"You son of a bitch! My father has nothing to do with this!" Tony raised his head with eyes so dark with fury and loathing that when he made eye contact, Caldwell flinched involuntarily. Gibbs silently applauded his senior field agent; despite his affable demeanour, he could cower just about anyone when he put his mind to it.

Ducky placed a firm but gentle hand on Tony's good shoulder, keeping him seated.

Gibbs stepped into Caldwell's personal space, fierce intent clearly obvious in his eyes.

He cocked his thumb in Tony's direction.

"You exploited him to gain political and public favour and you damn near killed him in the process. If he hadn't moved on that roof, we'd be burying him right now!" Gibbs said in a low and menacing voice. "You lost your objectivity."

Caldwell laughed disdainfully. "You're in no position to talk about objectivity, Gibbs, – despite all the evidence to the contrary, you refused to believe DiNozzo could be guilty."

Gibbs shrugged. "I was right…DiNozzo's been cleared…and you're out on your ass."

Mouth tight with barely contained anger, Caldwell stared into Gibbs' eyes. After a long moment's duel, he abruptly turned and left, his body stiff with fury.

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Closing the door gently behind him, Commander Fenner walked back into the waiting area.

"How's he doing?" Gibbs asked.

"Under the circumstances, remarkably well," Fenner replied. "I've just given him a mild sedative but you can go in if you like, just don't stay too long, he needs his rest."

Not needing a second invitation, the team and Fornell entered Tony's hospital room to find their friend already fighting the effects of the sedative.

"So, DiNozzo," Fornell said. "You went up against our best sniper and lived to tell the tale. Seems it's as hard to kill you as it is to charge you with murder."

"I admire your persistence, Toby," Tony replied wearily. "Remember what they say, if at first you don't succeed…"

Gibbs and Fornell exchanged a bemused glance and the FBI agent pointed with his chin in Tony's direction.

"How do you put up with this guy?" he asked.

"Told you…he's an acquired taste," Gibbs replied.

With a shake of his head and a wave of his hand, Fornell left the room.

Before the sedative enveloped him completely, Tony offered a quiet 'thanks' to his teammates...a single word that expressed so much more.

Gibbs nodded at his team, acknowledging their efforts and silently expressing his own gratitude.

Keeping his eyes open was just too hard. Tony let heavy lids close and listened to the hushed voices of his friends and the sound of their laughter.

With a Herculean effort, he cracked open his eyes and found Gibbs leaning back against the wall, silently enjoying the light-hearted banter going on around him. With his gruff, blunt words, his don't-even-think-about-it glares and stinging head slaps, he had become his lighthouse. Dependable and steadfast in any weather, a shining beacon keeping him from smashing against the rocks, helping to steady his course and safely guiding him home.

As if sensing he was being watched, Gibbs met his gaze and walked to his bedside.

"Thought you'd be sleeping. Need anything?"

Tony shook his head; noticing for the first time how exhausted the former Marine looked.

"You look like crap, Boss," Tony said slurred.

"You're no oil painting yourself, DiNozzo."

"I had my brain scrambled and I got shot. 'M not 'sposed to look good," he said blinking owlishly to stay awake. "What's your excuse?"

The lead agent took a breath and replied. "You had your brain scrambled and you got shot."

With a knowing look the two men communicated feelings of relief and gratitude – expressed in a manner beyond the ineffectual ability of words.

"It's over," Gibbs said. "Sleep."

With his boss by his side and the sound of his friend's voices in the background, Tony closed his eyes allowed the medication to shepherd him into a healing sleep.

00—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—00

Knowing Tony wouldn't stir again for several hours, the team headed back to the Navy Yard to tidy up the last of the paperwork on the case. As they entered the bullpen they found Vance and Balboa standing in front of the plasma screen.

"Problem, Director?" Gibbs asked.

"Emilio Salinas escaped FBI custody at Bethesda," Vance replied. "Two agents were found hand-cuffed to the x-ray machine in the radiology department. I've alerted the Marines outside DiNozzo's room...he's fine."

"Salinas is recovering from a gunshot wound to the leg," McGee said. "He couldn't have got far."

"He had to have help," Gibbs added.

"We're checking the security tapes now," Vance said, gesturing to McGee to take over the operation of the projector. "A man dressed as a hospital employee entered Salinas' room to take him for x-rays. The agents accompanied them and were overpowered."

"Two armed federal agents were over-powered by one man?" Ziva asked. "It has been a very bad day for the FBI."

"This guy definitely knows his stuff," Balboa said. "He knows where every camera is and turns his head before we can get a good look at him."

They watched the screen as the door to the x-ray room opened and a man, dressed in blue surgical scrubs and cap, pushed Salinas in a wheelchair down the corridor toward the exit. As Balboa said, whenever they neared the security cameras, the man turned his head away.

"Wait!" Gibbs said. "McGee, take it back to where he walked past the vending machine."

McGee jockeyed the controls as they watched the images reverse frame by frame.

"Okay, stop! Go forward again three frames."

"You got something, Gibbs?" Vance said.

"Maybe."

They watched the stilted images as the man turned his head from the camera, toward the vending machine.

"Stop it there, McGee," Gibbs said, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

"There's a reflection in the glass on the vending machine," McGee stated.

"DiNozzo definitely owes me fifty bucks," Gibbs quipped. "Vampires do cast reflections."

"Trent Kort!" Ziva said.

"Yep, now we know who Kort's source was. You can call off the BOLO, Director, Salinas is long gone."

00—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—00

Several hours later, McGee walked into the bullpen and waited as Gibbs finished a call.

"That was Jack Corbin," Gibbs said. "Wanted to check on DiNozzo and to let us know that he's made all the necessary changes to the security system at his facilities."

"Did he mention Joe Castillo, Boss?"

"Corbin's arranged the best criminal attorney he could find to take his case. Given the fact that Torres threatened his daughter and Castillo co-operated fully with our investigation, he'll probably get a suspended sentence."

McGee nodded absently and placed a file on the team leader's desk.

"Ducky asked me to give you Lopez' file, Boss, he said that's the last of the pathology reports."

Gibbs nodded, watching peripherally as McGee shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"Need something, McGee?"

"Ducky just told me…Boss, would you mind if I took an hour personal time?"

"Something wrong?"

"Just something I need to take care of."

Gibbs eyed his agent, noting his unusual evasiveness and realising the younger man didn't want to discuss the matter.

"Go," he said.

"Thanks, Boss," McGee replied as he retrieved his weapon and ID from his desk and headed for the elevator.

"McGee!" Gibbs called, opening the bottom drawer of his desk. He removed the latest GSM swimsuit edition and a variety of sport magazines that he'd purchased on an earlier coffee run. "Take these with you. Tell DiNozzo he's in for two more days and if he tries to sign himself out early I'll kick his ass into next week."

"On it. Boss," McGee replied, not even bothering to wonder how the team leader knew where he was going – he was Gibbs after all.

Arriving at Bethesda, McGee walked into Tony's room and dropped heavily into the chair beside the bed. Dispensing with the small talk, he decided to plunge right in.

"I'm told you've been avoiding talking to me," he said.

Tony rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide his exasperation. "Ducky ratted me out!"

"Ducky was concerned," McGee replied. "This is a first…most days I can't get you to stop talking to me, suddenly I can't get you to start."

An awkward silence passed between the two men for several long moments.

"I'm sorry about Morrison," Tony said softly, unable to look McGee in the eyes.

"He was a good man…would have been a good agent," McGee said grimly. "First Michelle Lee and now Aaron…I keep losing my probies."

"I nearly lost mine," Tony said, barely above a whisper.

"It wasn't your fault, you know," McGee said after a moment.

Tony met his gaze with guilt-ridden eyes. "I left you behind at that warehouse! You could have been killed, man…that would have been on me."

"You were barely conscious! You didn't even know who you were, let alone who I was!"

The senior field agent looked away, obviously not convinced. McGee took another deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Okay…listen up 'cos I'm only gonna say this once and if you tell anyone, I'll deny it. We've faced a lot of tough times, losing Kate, Jenny, the boss leaving for Mexico, our team being split up, the terrorist camp in Somalia."

"Thanks for the pep talk, Probie, you can cancel my Prozac prescription…I feel much better now," Tony said, reverting to humour as his refuge.

"Just shut up and listen," McGee said firmly. "The point is we got through those times because we stuck together as a team."

"Yeah but I…"

"Uh uh!" McGee held up his index finger to halt Tony's rebuttal. "I'm not finished! Since I became an agent, there've been several times when things really got to me personally - when I seriously thought about handing in my badge and walking away. Like when Ari put the bomb in the trunk of that car and I turned the key, or when I was involved in shooting that undercover cop. When Erin Kendall was killed or right after the boss was hurt on the Turkish freighter."

"Maybe you should order the Prozac, McGloomy."

"Hey, I'm trying to have a serious conversation here!" he scolded.

"Sorry, man," Tony mumbled, suitably chastised.

"As I was saying, the point is…when those things happened, you were there for me every single time – not the Boss, not Ducky or Abby, not Ziva or even Kate…you. Sure…there have been many days where the nicknames and the endless hazing has infuriated me…but to know that your partner has your back when it really matters …it's worth the trade off."

"DiNozzo's rule number five - never stop looking out for your probie," Tony said. "Comes right after DiNozzo's rule number four which is, drive your probie to distraction, see if he can take it."

"Some people think I'm not man enough to let you know when you've crossed the line. Five years ago they would have been right…but not anymore."

"I always knew that inside that mild mannered McGoo persona there was a WWF wrestler just waiting to kick my ass."

"Trust me Tony, you could make Mother Teresa wanna kick your ass! But so there's no misunderstanding…when you cross the line, I'll let you know about it."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Tony said gently. "Look's like my probie is all grown up. My work here is done."

"Maybe not…maybe I'm not done being your probie for the same reasons your not done being Gibbs' probie."

"Masochism?"

"Pathetic aren't we?" McGee grimaced. "So…we good?"

"Yeah, man…we're good," Tony agreed.

"It'll be good to have you back, Tony."

"Are you saying ya missed me, McGoo?"

"I'm saying that, at least when you're around, the bad guys beat up on you and not me."

The familiar banter felt right and the agents began to relax.

"So, Probie…what's this I hear about you wearing make-up?"

00—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—00

The following afternoon, Vance called the MCRT, Abby, Palmer and Ducky into his office. They found him watching the news on the large TV mounted on the wall. During the past thirty-six hours, egged on by Senator Barnaby's political opponents, the media had whipped themselves into frenzy over the reports of major impropriety.

They watched the footage of hordes of media camped outside Caldwell's home, following his every move and desperate for that exclusive statement or photo of the disgraced man.

Political commentators were calling for an independent inquiry and Senator Barnaby had announced his immediate retirement from public office, citing ill health. The inquiry was also expected to have far-reaching effects at the Attorney General's office.

Caldwell's political aspirations were in tatters and despite his resignation from FBI he would still face charges including wrongful arrest, assault with intent to kill and a slew of others. His passport had been revoked and it was highly probable that he would be convicted and would serve time.

Acting on his orders, an FBI sniper had come close to killing their partner. Although each of the team wished they could inflict a world of pain on Caldwell for his actions, they were law enforcement officers who believed and trusted in the justice system. They realised that, for a man like Caldwell, public humiliation and internment was, by far, the more painful and more satisfying punishment.

The TV network replayed earlier footage of Caldwell leaving his home to attend a meeting with his attorney. Thick plaster was moulded across the bridge of his nose and his eyes were blackened and swollen.

"Good Lord," Ducky exclaimed. "What on Earth happened to his face?"

"According to Director Timmins, Caldwell was running to avoid the media, slipped and fell, broke his nose," Vance replied.

Vance muted the sound but left the television on, as he cast an appraising eye on his people. The stress and long hours of the past few months was showing on all of them, even his lead agent looked tired and lacked his usual Marine stance as he leaned back against the wall, hands casually placed in his jacket pockets.

"Morrison's memorial service is tomorrow in San Diego," Vance said. "I assume you'd all like to attend?"

Receiving a unanimous reply the director advised that SecNav had arranged to fly team to San Diego for the funeral service, after which, the team would be on compulsory stand down for one week.

"When is DiNozzo being discharged?" Vance asked.

"Tomorrow," Gibbs replied."

"I take it you won't be coming to Morrison's service?"

"Spoke with Morrison's parents last night, paid my respects. DiNozzo's gonna need a hand for a while."

The director advised them of flight details and arranged for them to meet him at Anacostia Naval Station at zero eight hundred the next morning. As the team left the office, Vance called for Gibbs to remain.

"When I was boxing, I always found that Tylenol and icepacks helped with the pain of swollen and bruised hands," he said, his face was implacable but his eyes were smiling.

Gibbs hesitated, his blue eyes narrowing slightly as he considered his director's words. Slowly he removed his hands from his pockets and looked at the skinned and swollen knuckles.

"I kinda like the way they feel," he said, exchanging what Tony would call a "nudge, nudge, wink, wink" with the director.

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When Tony was released from Bethesda the following morning, Gibbs had expected to have his agent stay in the guest room at his house, as he had on previous occasions. But when the younger man insisted on going home to his own apartment, Gibbs recognised a desperate yet unspoken need for Tony to reconnect with his own life, his own belongings, his own identity.

The team leader was pleased and relieved to see the slight improvement in Tony's condition. Though he still had a long way to go, he had to admit a measure of pride in the younger man's strength and resilience.

A potent mixture of exhaustion, fatigue and extremely strong meds meant that Tony slept for long periods of the day and night as his body attempted to heal itself.

Gibbs was concerned when Tony flatly refused to take his medication the following morning. The former Marine had learned over the years, that when DiNozzo dug his heels in, no amount of coercion or even threats of violence could change his mind. He heard Tony moving about in the bedroom and when his curiosity became too much, he walked to the door and found his agent struggling into a pair of jeans.

Still wearing the sling on his left arm and the awkward, figure eight brace, designed to keep his shoulders back and restrict their movement, Gibbs shook his head at the younger man's stubbornness.

"Going somewhere?" he asked.

Not waiting for an answer, he selected a warm shirt from Tony's wardrobe and helped him into it, ignoring the younger man's huff of frustration and embarrassment. Placing a pair of slip-on shoes at Tony's feet, he continued to lend support where he knew it was needed and would never be asked. He didn't push for answers – Tony certainly had something on his mind but Gibbs knew with certainty that his agent would tell him when he felt the time was right.

A short time later, Tony told him he had something important to do and asked if Gibbs would drive him. As Gibbs parked the car in the grounds of the Oak Hill cemetery, he understood. Tony struggled one-handed to free himself from the seatbelt as Gibbs rounded the car and opened the passenger door.

"You want company?" he asked.

"Sure," came Tony's subdued reply.

The former Marine matched the younger man's slow and careful gait as they walked together down the path. Tony took a slip of paper from his pocket and veered to the path leading to the left - soon after they found the grave he was searching for.

RAMON SANCHEZ

Tony's eyes closed and his chin dropped to his chest, causing Gibbs to wonder whether the gesture represented prayer, grief, regret or stress on his still weakened body. He decided it was probably a little of everything. He kept an eye on his agent, satisfied that his hands appeared steady and being outdoors was adding a little healthy colour to his pale face.

They stood silently, shoulder to shoulder for several long moments. Tony reached into his pocket again then stepped forward to place two small items by the foot of the headstone – one an American flag, the other, a small flag heralding Minnesota's Golden Gophers. He stood and took a couple of unsteady steps before Gibbs took hold of his elbow and led him to the nearby park bench. The missed medication had caused the return of pain lines around his eyes.

"I liked him, Boss. Ray was a good guy," Tony said in a hoarse whisper.

Gibbs sat quietly as Tony told him of the enjoyable breakfast he and Ray had shared exchanging football stories and tales of their glory days at college. He recounted their agreement to watch the upcoming Buckeyes Vs Gophers football game on the wide-screen plasma as they enjoyed a steak and a few beers. And he laughed as he told Gibbs of their silly bet and the even sillier stakes. The smile disappeared suddenly as Tony looked back at the new headstone.

"I didn't know him long, Boss, but he looked out for me and he watched my back. He was a good man and a good agent."

Several more moments passed before Tony slowly rose to his feet and started back down the path. Gibbs watched him go then added his own silent thanks, grateful that, in his absence, someone else had done their best to keep Tony safe - then he hustled to catch up with his agent.

00—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-00

Arriving home from the cemetery, Tony took his meds without argument, a sure sign of the pain he was feeling, then, as he had done since returning from the hospital, he slept for several hours. The rest of the day and evening he was uncharacteristically subdued, still frustrated by his lost memories and what was likely to be a long and painful recovery.

The absence of a yard and basement at Tony's apartment gave Gibbs more time on his hands than he was used to. Returning from a light run early the next morning, Gibbs quickly showered and dressed. Looking in on Tony and finding him still sleeping, he left a hastily written note, grabbed his keys and dashed out the door.

He returned almost two hours later, finding Tony padding around the kitchen with bare feet and wearing a pair of well-worn sweats, his wet hair sticking up at odd angles. The younger man was wearing the sling but not the shoulder brace, as he was still too sore to manage it without help. Walking into the kitchen, Gibbs handed Tony an envelope before swiping a piece of toast that was headed for Tony's mouth and helping himself to a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

"What's this?" he asked quietly.

"Open it?"

Tony opened the envelope, gasping with surprise as he removed two tickets to the Ohio State Vs Minnesota football game being played in Columbus in two days time.

"Boss, where did you get these…these are private suite tickets!"

"Spoke to Jack Corbin. He has a business associate on the Board of Trustees at OSU. He organised it."

"Just us? You and me?"

"Unless you'd rather give that other ticket to someone else."

"No! I mean…this is amazing!" Tony said, his face lighting up with the first real smile Gibbs had seen from him in weeks. Removing a brochure from the envelope, he read aloud. "VIP parking, custom catering, wet bar with refrigerator…"

"Beer for me, soda for you," Gibbs interjected.

"Full time concierge at our service - I've always wanted one of those. Television monitors with close-up viewing and replay action…Boss, this is gonna be great!" His eyes widened and his smile disappeared as a thought occurred. "I can't go."

"Why?"

"Ducky will never go for it. You know what he's been like, he rings six times a day and wigs out if I tell him I walked to the mailbox by myself."

"He's worried about you, DiNozzo, besides, I already ran it by him."

"He said yes?" Tony asked excitedly.

"He said no," Gibbs replied, watching as his agent's face fell. "Then I told him that we'd be in a private suite where you could lay down and rest…"

"Like that's gonna happen," Tony scoffed.

"And you wouldn't be jostled and injured by the crowds."

"And then he said yes!" Tony said, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Gibbs shrugged. "Still said no. Said you wouldn't be fit to fly for another week or two."

Disappointment oozed from every pore as Tony placed the tickets back into the envelope. "Thanks anyway, Boss. Guess we can catch the game on the Big Ten Network."

"The car's gassed up, if you get your ass in gear, we can leave as soon as you're packed."

"We're taking a road trip?" Tony asked, the mega-watt smile reappearing.

"With Ducky's blessing."

"Yes!" Tony said, pumping the fist of his good arm into the air and moving into the bedroom as quickly as he could manage.

Gibbs grabbed Tony's duffle and laid it open on the bed, then carefully helped Tony back into the dreaded shoulder brace. As the younger man threw some clothes into his bag, Gibbs retrieved Tony's bathroom kit and returned to help him slip his arm into the sleeve of his shirt. He bit back a grin, listening to Tony's excited chatter.

"We are gonna have a blast! Naturally, I'll be barracking for the Bucks but to make it interesting, Boss, you're gonna have to cheer on the Gophers."

"I can do that," Gibbs shrugged.

"I'll need to buy you…"

"Don't even think about it!" Gibbs threatened. "I am not wearing a hat with a Gopher on it."

"Oh…what about…"

"And I'm not singing a damn victory song about a gopher!"

"Well…I don't think they actually sing about the gopher, Boss, and you won't need to know the victory song, cos the Bucks are gonna win, but I'm sure I can find the words to Minnesota's fight song on the internet. You'll have seven hours to practice in the car."

Gibbs flashed the younger man a look that brooked no argument.

"Or not," Tony said, not bothering to hide his disappointment. "I don't wanna seem ungrateful here, Boss, but you're kinda raining on my parade."

"Behave yourself and I might buy ya one of those little Brutus Buckeye pen holders for your desk." Gibbs replied, zipping Tony's duffle and throwing it over his shoulder. "Come on."

While Tony fed his fish and made sure all appliances were off, Gibbs held out two tablets and a glass of water. He watched as the younger man washed down his usual daily dosage without a second thought and then continued to yammer excitedly.

Gibbs was sure Tony didn't come up for air for the duration of their trip from the apartment to the car. He threw Tony's bag in the trunk with his own and helped settle the younger man into the passenger seat.

Tony produced a Miles Davis CD, seemingly from midair, and was disappointed – but not really surprised – to find that Gibbs hadn't installed a CD player. He adjusted the dial of the radio until he found a jazz station and settled back with a sigh and a yawn.

"This'll be fun, Boss, just you and me, taking a little road trip – DiNozzo style."

"DiNozzo style?"

"Sure, we can listen to some music, talk about sports and movies, cars and women; play a little punch buggy. You know, real men stuff."

"Real men play punch buggy?" Gibbs questioned.

"You're right – forget punch buggy, besides this shoulder's not up to it," he said around another yawn. "We'll be like Thunderbolt and Lightfoot, you know, the movie with Clint Eastwood and Jeff Bridges, or Easy Rider with Dennis Hopper and Peter Fonda."

As Tony launched into another large yawn, Gibbs looked at his watch with a wry smile, thinking about the peace and quiet he was likely to get the minute Tony's medication kicked in. The meds were strong and usually put the younger man out for at least five hours.

"Boss, you think, maybe, I can take the wheel, you know, give you a break from the driving and see how she handles?"

"Nope!" Gibbs said definitively.

"Come on! It's a 1970's Dodge Challenger R/T with 426 HEMI and R/T suspension package!"

"And you have one good arm and a head injury!" Gibbs countered loudly but without any real heat. "You touch the keys to my car, or if - just once - you ask me "are we there yet" you'll be back in the hospital with another head injury. Are we clear?"

The tired smile on the younger man's face left him in no doubt that DiNozzo was enjoying their familiar banter and slowly getting back to his button pushing best. He matched his agent's grin with one of his own when Tony replied.

"I gotcha, Boss."

Ten minutes later the soft snoring from his passenger drew his attention, as the meds kicked in and Tony was out for the count.

"Right on time, DiNozzo," he said quietly, with a quick look at his watch. "See you in five hours."

He adjusted the heat to make sure his agent was warm and then switched the radio back to his preferred AM station. He flashed a rare bright smile at his sleeping passenger and then settled back to enjoy taking a little road trip – Gibbs style!

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THE END

A/N:- We made it! This story is twice as long and with much more detail than I have ever written before. I realise that this type of story is not everyone's cup of tea and, for that reason; I am delighted that so many of you chose to take this journey with me.

Special thanks to all who took the time to read this story in its entirety, particularly those who took an extra moment to provide me with your valuable feedback. I appreciate the amount of time you all invested in reading my story and truly hope you considered it time well spent. Thanks, also, for including me in your prayers and good wishes, I'm overwhelmed.

Until next time, with every good wish, L