Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, its characters, etc., etc...

A/N: This is a companion piece to my other NCIS story Just Between Us, but can be read alone as well. A couple people had mentioned they'd be interested to know what had transpired during the previous conversation/night between Gibbs and Tony that had been mentioned in Just Between Us. To be honest, when I'd written it in the story my mind had already started running with possibilities. This whole story spawned from one quote I thought of when I woke up the other morning, and I just couldn't stop writing. Where Just Between Us was mainly from Tony's POV, this one is actually from Gibbs's. I tried to stay within canon as much as I could, but I did take a few liberties. Anyway...

Enjoy!

Not Going Anywhere

This was not exactly how he'd planned on spending his night. But then again, he shouldn't be surprised. He'd been expecting the phone call he received earlier since last week. Gibbs had let his agent act like everything was fine, and even encouraged, however subtly, the shenanigans whenever it seemed like Abby or Ducky were going to try to get him to talk about it. Truth was, Gibbs knew Tony wasn't fine. He knew Wendy calling off the wedding and leaving had been a huge blow for the kid. But he also knew Tony wasn't ready to deal with it, and certainly didn't want to talk about it. Any attempt to force the issue, no matter how well meaning, would just make it worse, and he'd either run or build up his walls even higher and deflect, or snap. No, Tony would face this when, and only when, he was ready.

Apparently, tonight he'd decided he was ready to take that first step. Unsurprisingly, to Gibbs at least, that first step had been to become roaringly drunk and get in a bar fight.

Gibbs knew he was lucky that phone call had come from Pete and not Metro. Tony didn't need to deal with his new boss pulling him out of the drunk tank, and possibly facing charges, on top of everything else. Thankfully, Pete had realized who Tony was, and had the foresight to call Gibbs when he realized the state the kid was in. Pete's years as a marine and as a bartender helped him see trouble before it started. And he was right.

By the time Gibbs had gotten to the bar, Tony was already in the middle of a fight with two sailors. Luckily, the only damages done had been some broken beer bottles, bruises, and a few cuts. Pete had helped separate the three, and talked the sailors down while Gibbs tried to get his agent under control. That was easier said than done though. It had taken a twisted arm, a barked order, and a head slap before Tony even realized who was holding him back from going after the sailors again.

After that, Gibbs had half-dragged his struggling and stumbling agent out of the bar and forced him into the car with a threat of serious bodily harm if he puked inside it. Tony was already passed out before Gibbs even started the engine. But he wasn't completely unconscious. He kept fidgeting throughout the drive. The few words Gibbs caught from the incoherent mumbles confirmed his suspicion that this whole situation was a result of what happened with Wendy.

It took more dragging and threats for Gibbs to get a semi-conscious, but still struggling, Tony from the car into his living room. Quickly depositing his agent on the couch, Gibbs barely managed to grab a bucket before the puking started.

So now here he was, sitting on his couch in the middle of the night with one steadying hand on his drunk agent's back, and the other holding the bucket in place so that vomit didn't end up everywhere in case the violent retching jarred it loose from the kid's already shaky arms. When he thought about it, Gibbs realized he hadn't been in this position since Kelly had that stomach virus a few months before he deployed to Desert Storm. He'd dealt with drunk and hung over friends and coworkers before, but that was in the Marines, mainly before Kelly. Since joining NCIS, it hadn't really been an issue. He hadn't really had a team since Mike retired, and his time in Europe. Mike liked to drink, but he was his boss, and this kind of drunk hadn't been an option in Europe. After Europe, he'd gotten stuck with Stan, and Langer for a little while, but Gibbs had never seen them or talked to them outside of work unless it was work related. Gibbs had mainly worked alone after that, or pairing up with other seasoned agents. Abby didn't get this drunk, as far as he knew, and Ducky certainly didn't.

Tony was the first person Gibbs had recruited. The director had wanted him to be a team leader again ever since Stan transferred, but Gibbs had met some of the probies the director wanted to stick him with and flat out refused to deal with that kind of incompetence. Then he'd met Tony. The kid had spunk. He was smart, and he had experience as a cop. After looking into him, Gibbs had told the director he was ready to take on a new agent. Despite his initial reservations when he read Tony's personnel file, Morrow had been happy and agreed. Even though it'd only been a couple months, Tony was already a better investigator than some of the agents that had been with the agency longer than Gibbs. He acted like a clown, but he was a quick learner and had great instincts. Gibbs also knew the kid probably had just as many walls to keep people out as he did, if not more. But where Gibbs just shut down, Tony had his masks.

Now, here, drunk and puking his guts up, those masks were gone. Left behind was a vulnerable, broken twenty-nine year old who looked far younger than even those normally associated with the juvenile antics he enjoyed almost daily. It was both disconcerting and refreshing. Gibbs didn't know how worried he should be.

Taking care of his people, that was his job. It had been ingrained into his very being as a marine. Ducky was a friend, and offered his own support. Abby welcomed it with open arms; she was one of the kindest people you'd ever meet, as long as you didn't get on her bad side. Tony, on the other hand, was an enigma. In their short time working together, Gibbs had already figured out that while Tony would do whatever it took to get the job done and protect others, he seemed incapable of accepting help, let alone asking for it. Gibbs had read the kid's file; he knew about his mother's death and all the boarding schools. He figured Tony had just gotten used to taking care of himself.

So it didn't come as a surprise that, when the puking finally stopped, Tony murmured an apology and tried to leave.

But Gibbs just moved his hand up to hold him in place by the scruff of his neck. "Easy DiNozzo. You're not going anywhere." Though firm, the marine's voice was gentler than his usual growl.

Slumping back down with a sigh, Tony seemed to realize he was in no condition to fight, especially with Gibbs, and certainly not to win.

Over the next several minutes, he dry heaved a few times. After it became apparent there was nothing left in Tony's system to come back up, they eased the bucket down to the floor. Gibbs now had one of his hands free, but left the other on the kid's neck. It was more for support than to keep Tony from falling over, since he was still folded in half and leaning heavily on his legs.

A strangled quiet chuckle became a cough that turned into another round of dry heaving. After, Tony spit into the bucket before mumbling, "Ya know, I think the last person outside of a hospital who sat with me while I puked was the maid when I was nine."

"What about your fraternity brothers?" Gibbs asked, keeping his tone light and his voice soft.

Tony's mouth twitched in a smirk. "We were all puking."

Gibbs shook his head, chuckling softly. That didn't surprise him. Unfortunately, neither did the kid's first comment.

There were another few moments of silence. Tony's breathing had evened out. For a second, Gibbs thought maybe he'd passed out again. But then a whispered question grabbed his attention.

"Why are you doing this Gibbs?"

As drunk as he was, Gibbs was impressed with how little he was slurring his words, though they were slow and dull. But the pain and confusion behind them was clear and sharp.

Giving the kid's neck a gentle squeeze, Gibbs replied firmly, "Because I take care of my own." He could feel the tension vibrating through the younger man, and added softly, "I've got your six Tony."

There was a grimace on the kid's face when he squeezed his eyes shut.

Silence reigned for a while. If not for the taut muscles and sharp breaths, Gibbs might've believed Tony had fallen asleep.

"She left me."

Gibbs sighed. "I know," he whispered.

Tony shook his head, causing him to dry heave again. When he was finished, he said, "Everyone always leaves me."

Gibbs wasn't sure what to say to that. But before he even had a chance to reply, Tony continued, more pain filling his voice with each word.

"Mom died. Senior was always God only knows where. Always leaving me behind…Left me alone in a hotel room in Hawaii for two days once. While he went chasing after some woman…Not like he was ever really there when he was around anyway…He was always drunk." He let out a soft chuckle that once again turned into a cough, but no dry heaving this time. A sad smile graced the kid's face when he continued. "Never noticed me most of the time." The expression turned darker when he added, "When he did…well, he was either throwing something at me…or hitting me with something."

Softly giving the kid's neck another squeeze while he dry heaved again, he hoped it was taken as the silent comfort it was meant to be. Gibbs was grateful Tony couldn't see his face. If he could, he'd be able to see the anger there. Not at Tony, but at his father. No kid should have to go through that.

Spitting once more, even though he was barely staying awake, Tony spoke again. This time his words were a little lighter, laced with bitter humor. "When I was twelve I decided I'd had enough…One night he hit me…and I threw his bottle of scotch on the ground. Told him next time he hit me…I'd hit him back…He thought I was bluffing…I wasn't…Next thing I knew he's shipping me off to boarding school." He sighed heavily. "Haven't seen him since…Talked to him a few times…sorta…" Tony's face scrunched up. "We don't really talk when we talk…"

He was drifting in and out of consciousness. Gibbs didn't think he'd last much longer, but didn't want to interrupt him. Tony didn't even seem to realize he was talking out loud, or that Gibbs was there. The marine figured if he had, he wouldn't be saying this much, no matter how much alcohol he had in him. The kid could be extremely tight lipped when he wanted to be. More so than Gibbs in some respects.

"Why do they always leave?"

The question was heartbreaking, and possibly explained why the kid had moved around so much. Maybe he figured if he didn't get attached then he wouldn't get hurt. Or maybe he just left before he could get left. But Wendy had been different. Tony had gotten attached; he'd fallen in love. He'd made plans for the future. Gibbs remembered him saying something about a dog, and maybe one day kids. But then Wendy had left too, right before the wedding.

Gibbs knew there wasn't anything he could say to make it better, or to make it hurt any less. So he said the only thing he could. "I'm not."

Closing his eyes as he was losing the battle against sleep, Tony smiled sadly. "You don't have to lie to make me feel better…I'm a big boy…I can take it."

The casual, dismissive resignation in his agent's voice wasn't something Gibbs was going to accept. Privately thankful that the kid had nothing left to vomit, Gibbs roughly turned Tony's head towards himself. He gave Tony a light, but firm, tap on the back of the head so that he'd open his eyes. Gibbs waited until the green eyes were locked onto his blue ones before he spoke in his usual, gruff, 'I'm not taking no for an answer' bark.

"Hey! DiNozzo…I'm not going anywhere."

Tony stared at him for a long minute. There was a serious, clearheaded look in his eyes that made Gibbs hopeful that, just maybe, what he'd said had made it through the haze of alcohol.

"You understand me?" Gibbs asked sternly.

Blinking a couple times, Tony replied slowly and quietly, "Gotcha Boss."

"Good." Gibbs nodded once, a tiny smile quirked the corners of his mouth. "Now, get some sleep DiNozzo. You're gonna have a hell of a hangover in the morning."

But Tony was already out before his head hit the pillow. Gibbs maneuvered him so he was fully laying on the couch, and made sure the bucket was next to him, just in case.

Gibbs glanced at his sleeping agent one last time before he racked out himself. The kid looked young anyway, but more so in his sleep; Gibbs had noticed it when he'd caught him sleeping at his desk a few times.

Though he doubted Tony would actually remember this conversation in the morning, Gibbs had meant what he said. He always had his people's six in the field, and he took care of his own. But there was something about Tony. Maybe it was that Gibbs had lost his family, and that Tony had never really had one. The marine didn't know. But he'd meant what he said, whether the kid remembered it or not. Gibbs wasn't going to be like everybody else in Tony's life. He wasn't going to leave him.

A/N: Hope you liked it! Just FYI, I guessed Tony's age based on the Season 1 episode 21 Split Decision, and since Tony had been with Gibbs 2 years in the fifth episode of Season 1 (aired 2003) I estimated that this story takes place around the end of 2001. I'm not marking this story complete just yet, cause I haven't decided whether I want to add a second, short, chapter to show what happens the next morning. Let me know if you'd wanna see it. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated!