A/N:Wow, I really don't know what to say. To all of you who reviewed and alerted this story thanks so, so, much. I'm really sorry for the delay in updating. It's now clear to me that my health means that updates will not be as frequent as I might wish. They will probably be every six to eight weeks at a minimum. I promise I will do my level best to get them out as quickly as possible. Rest assured though, this story will be finished. Your encouragement and well wishes have meant more to me than I can say. I sincerely hope that I can continue to live up to your expectations, and I hope you continue to enjoy this story. I also want to extend my deepest thanks to Zaedah, who (among others) checked on me to see if I was ok, offered lots of support and encouragement, and gave me some extremely useful concrit on this chapter. Any of you who are reading this, I encourage you to check out Zaedah's work. It's wonderful.

Warnings: Rated T+ for mature themes, intense violence (later chapters). Swearing may abound. "F" word in there somewhere.

Spoilers. Possible through season 5, though story now quite AU.

Disclaimer: Won't ever be mine (sobs hysterically). House of God isn't mine either doggone it.

Loyalty on the Razor's Edge

Chapter 3

In the NCIS bullpen, McGee looked up as Abby spilled out of the elevator chanting his name over and over. As he often was, he found himself bemused at the speed at which she could move in her 3 inch platform boots without breaking an ankle. She fetched up at his workspace, giving no evidence of even seeing Ziva and, grabbing his shoulders, spun his chair until he was nearly nose to nose with her. He wouldn't have needed to know her well to be aware of her distress; knowing her as well as he did, he could see even through her geisha-white makeup that she was pale and her eyes were red.

"McGee, McGee, I really need to know what's going on between Tony and Gibbs, cause Gibbs just like threw me out of my own lab and even though Tony just solved the Dickerson case he looks really mad at Tony and he said something about Tony resigning and I have a really really bad feeling about all this and..." she trailed off, hands still waving about in her distress, as McGee put his hands on her shoulders and said "Abs, you've got to slow down and give it to us in smaller chunks, 'cause we really can't follow what you're saying when you're like this."

"Take a deep breath, Abby, and start again," said Ziva in a calm decisive manner that had always irritated Abby. She stared at Ziva as if just noticing for the first time that there was another member in Gibbs' team. But she took the advised deep breath and found that it did help. She had always been annoyed by the fact that Ziva seemed unable to tolerate the way she handled her anxiety, and it had also always annoyed her that Ziva herself never seemed to exhibit any anxiety no matter how dire the situation. The deep breath seemed to help her remember that she had eventually warmed up to the Mossad agent. And now that she looked closer, she found that she could in fact see signs of distress on her face also.

In her ear McGee was saying "Did you just say that Tony solved the Dickerson case?" while behind her Ziva was saying "Did you just say that Tony has resigned?"

Silence fell suddenly around McGee's desk as she answered both questions with a single, simple "Yes."

Tears suddenly filled Abby's eyes and, wrapping her long arms around McGee's neck, she crawled into his lap and buried her head on his shoulder and let them come. McGee wrapped his arms around Abby's waist to hold her securely while he tried to process what he had just heard. He did not even bother to try to conceal the sadness and anxiety in his eyes as his gaze met Ziva's.

"That's what he put in his pocket," Ziva said softly.

"What?" asked McGee, rubbing Abby's back gently as her crying began to ease off.

"His badge," Ziva replied, turning away abruptly to keep McGee from seeing that she was tearing up herself. She shook her head and wiped angrily at her eyes, annoyed with herself for being so upset at the thought that Tony might have resigned without even discussing it with his team. She cursed softly in Hebrew under her breath. How had she gotten so close to these people? When she had accepted the liaison position with NCIS, she had been exhausted, emotionally as well as physically. She had needed to escape the culture inside Mossad, and the close eye of her father. She had formed an unlikely friendship with Gibbs and had deeply appreciated the way he backed her to Mossad over the whole incident with Ari.

But she had never expected to get so involved with the members of his team, never expected to come to care so much for them, especially Tony. He had bothered her from the beginning with antics she considered both juvenile and sexist and occasionally, even spiteful. But, she had realised very quickly that Gibbs would never have tolerated the kinds of behaviors that seemed to be the sum total of Tony DiNozzo, if that were in fact all there was to the man. Then she watched him work the cases, watched him interact with victims and families, watched him produce information seemingly from nowhere, watched as dizzying leaps in logic broke cases and solved seemingly insoluble puzzles. She watched him, despite the projected attitude of laziness, work himself into the ground, working hours that exhausted even her, and working with an efficiency that shocked her initially. She realised that he cared deeply for the people he was trying to help find justice, and even more deeply for his team. She saw that he used the often juvenile humour, and gadfly irritation tactics, in much the same way Gibbs used the angry bark, and the cold stare, and the reputation as a bastard: as tools to produce the results he wanted. She found it hard to credit that he might walk away from NCIS over a single busted operation even if it was the grotesquely fouled up La Grenouille case. But like all of the team she had been aware that he had been damaged by what he had been through and that he seemed unable to get back on balance. And she had seen it happen too often to Mossad agents. Destroyed by what they had been through, what they had had to do, most of them wound up dead. She'd rather Tony walked.

She turned back to McGee and Abby. Abby had stopped crying but still looked grieved and on edge.. McGee looked solemn and unhappy. "Abby," she said, trying to temper the edge in her voice, "What exactly happened in your lab?"

Abby sniffled for a moment then got up from McGee's lap and began pacing back and forth in front of his desk. "Well I had just got the DNA back from the samples Tony had me test, and I realized that he had solved the Dickerson case. I was just about to call him and let him know when he and Gibbs came into my lab. They looked, I don't know, tense and Tony looked... almost angry and very upset. So anyway, I told him that he'd been right and that we'd broke the case and that just seemed to piss Gibbs off, and that's really not like him at all, he's always proud and satisfied when Tony cracks these cold cases but he seemed angry to discover Tony had been working on it at all...," she paused for a breath, then continued in a rush, "So anyway I signed to Gibbs what was his problem, cause you know he seemed really upset, and he signed back that Tony had just tried to resign and asked me to vamoose so I did."

She looked back and forth between Ziva and McGee, seeing the anxiety, the doubt and sadness that she knew was probably also visible on her own face. "Guys, Tony's been sliding down for a long time. We can't just let him go without fighting for him. Gibbs won't just let him go. We need to do something, we need to let Tony know that we won't just let him walk away. I mean, he's family. You don't just give up on family." She stared hard at her two colleagues, her hands once again waving in distress. She repeated her statement, louder and more forcefully, "You don't give up on family."

"No, indeed, my dear Abigail, you do not. And I don't think any of us intends to do so. Certainly Jethro will not." The cultured Scottish burr seemed to soothe Abby's distress as Dr. Mallard advanced towards them. Abby's hands stilled and she turned and looked almost suspiciously at him.

"What do you know about what's going on with Tony, Ducky? Did you know he was planning to resign?" she demanded.

A look of intense unhappiness crossed Ducky's face. "Oh dear me, no. I had no idea things had got to such an extremity. I know that he and Jethro were having quite an animated and tense discussion in your lab a moment ago, but I didn't think things had gotten to an irretrievable point." He looked uncomfortable and pensive as he continued "Of course I'm sure we all know Tony's never really had a chance to regain his equilibrium after all the events of the last year or so. He's been under considerable strain. Even the strongest of people can burn out under intense and unrelieved pressure. Has Tony actually resigned?" He perched on the edge of Gibbs' desk, surveying the three people in front of him, easily seeing the depth of their feelings and the acute intensity of their anxiety. He had no problem seeing it; he felt the same.

"Gibbs signed to me that he tried to, I guess in the elevator on the way down to my lab. Gibbs looked really pissed about it too. But Tony looked...bad. He looked tired, like he," she paused, tears coming back to her eyes. "He looked like he was just exhausted. Like he just couldn't do it any more. He looked like he did after Kate died. You know how sick he was when he came back and how bad he looked after – after she was shot. You know how hard he drove himself in those first days after. He looks worse now, Ducky, I swear. More than that he looked, I don't know, bitter, angry maybe. When I told them that he had solved the Dickerson case, all Gibbs said was 'When did you start working this case?' and I swear, Duckman, I thought Tony was gonna punch him! I've never seen things like that between the two of them, not even when Gibbs was at his maddest and Tony was deliberately baiting him. Never." she hiccuped to a stop.

Ducky opened his arms to her, folding her into a tight hug and gently soothing her as his eyes met first Ziva's, then McGee's. He understood suddenly that things were much worse than any of them had evidently realised and for the first time in a long while he could think of nothing to say.

After a few moments, Ducky guided Abby back over to McGee's cubicle, and Ziva joined them there. They remained there for a while, talking softly amongst themselves about their colleague and what, if anything, they might be able to do for him. Then McGee's phone rang.

He looked at the caller ID and looked back up at the group somberly. "It's the lab line. That means it's either Tony or Gibbs," he said softly, unsure if he really wanted to answer it.

"It will be Gibbs," said Ziva. She nodded her head towards the overlooking balcony. "There's Tony. It looks like he's headed for the director's office."

McGee swallowed hard and laid his shaking hand on the phone handset. His eyes, though, like Ziva's, and Abby's and Ducky's too, were following Tony as he strode across the balcony. They all saw Tony's eyes cut towards them, saw a brief look of pain cross his features, saw that he forced himself to look away from them. Ziva cursed audibly in Hebrew, as Abby said simply, softly, "Oh fuck. No." McGee closed his eyes and picked up the phone.

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

As the elevator doors closed and the car began to move, Tony closed his eyes and leaned his aching head against the cool stainless steel. He felt numb, emptied and utterly unable to cope with all the things swirling inside him. Absently, his fingers slipped under his collar and found the thin, fine silver chain, tugging it up till the ring that was hanging from the chain was in his fingers. He worried the ring back and forth between his thumb and first two fingers, as if it were a prayer bead, feeling the engraving he knew by heart. The motion was soothing, helping him gather and focus his thoughts.

He had not thought that things could get any worse, that his life could get any more complicated. "Anthony," he whispered softly to himself, "You forgot the first law of the House of God. They can always hurt you more." He'd been in college when he'd read that book and realised that a striking number of its aphorisms really were true. No matter how bad things were, they could always get worse. Dryly he thought I really really ought to know that by now.

The elevator car began to slow and he tucked the chain with its ring back under his collar out of sight. He took a deep breath to steady himself as the car came to a stop, and checked his watch. It was a little after four thirty.

Four hours, he thought. The worst part of this will be over in four hours. Five max if Gibbs decides to draw out dinner. You can make four or five hours. You have to. For all their sakes.

The elevator doors opened and he stepped out, office mask firmly in place, moving with his usual brisk confident stride. His eyes cut sideways over the balcony and he caught sight of his team, Abby and Ducky included, gathered around McGee's desk. McGee was just answering his phone. Even from the balcony he could see the worry etched on all their faces. He knew it was for him and he had to look away from them. He had been surprised to see that Ziva looked almost upset. He gritted his teeth as a wave of guilt washed through him. He knew he could not spare the emotional energy for this right now. Jenny was a perceptive woman and he knew he'd have to be on top of his game if he wanted things to go his way in his meeting with her. Then there was Gibbs. He had no illusions; he knew Gibbs would be right up there after him as soon as he got off the phone with Ducky. He'd have at best just a couple of minutes alone with the Director to sell it and then he'd have to sell Gibbs too. The next half hour was going to push him to his limits.

He turned left down the hallway that led to the Director's office and ducked into the single stall men's room on the right of the hall. After relieving himself and washing his hands, he eyed himself critically in the mirror. He dampened his hands and ran them through his hair, then wet some paper towels and wiped his face, letting the cool wet towels rest on his eyes for a moment. He dried his face and hands and ran his comb through his hair. He brushed a tiny piece of the smashed monitor off of his suit jacket and decided he looked as good as he was going to. Glancing at his bruised hands he realised he would just have to hope Jenny didn't notice them. Looking back up at the mirror he tried one of his usual grins on for size and decided quickly that it looked far too brittle. Okay. The straight serious approach then. It was riskier; he knew he had trouble keeping things out of his eyes when he couldn't use his humour, but Jenny had never been able to read him as well as Gibbs, and he was reasonably sure that if he moved things along quickly he could carry it off.

He left the men's room and covered the distance to the Director's office in a few long strides. He breezed in through the doors into the outer office, and spotting the Director's assistant gave her a genuine smile. He really, really liked Cynthia.

"Hey, beautiful". A slight frown of concern crossed his face. "You look a little tired, hon. Have we been keeping you too busy?" His concern was genuine. Cynthia did look tired and that was unusual. The last time she had looked this worn had been when they were running all those after hours undercover ops around the La Grenouille case. He didn't exactly need the reminder at the moment.

Cynthia smiled back, glad to see him. She liked Tony a lot and considered him a good friend. She had been warned by office grapevine when she first came to NCIS not to get involved with Gibbs' senior agent. Rumor had it he was a player who would, if he thought her attractive, try his very best (and according to the grapevine his best was very good) to get her into bed, then drop her cold after a week or two. The grapevine could not have been more wrong.

From the very beginning he had treated her with an almost meticulous professional courtesy, a politeness that was tempered with a genuine warmth, and an attention to her moods and her occasional need for him to assist her in her interactions with the notorious First Team Lead Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, whose reputation also preceded him. Then one day he had picked up on the fact that she was, for her, unusually subdued, and had offered to buy her lunch. She had been wary, but hurting, and accepted. She'd been on her guard, but he had taken her to a nice restaurant, bought her a very nice lunch and deftly steered the conversation till she found herself telling him all about her breakup with her long term boyfriend 2 days earlier, and how it had gotten a little physical.

"Is that why you're wearing long sleeves even though it's ninety-two degrees outside?" he had asked, very gently, as he'd taken her hand and pushed up her left sleeve, fingertips lightly brushing the ugly bruise circling her wrist. She hadn't trusted herself to speak and merely nodded. She had been shocked at the sudden change in his eyes. His usually sparkling and lively eyes had gone cold, almost dead, and scarily empty, but his voice had retained its gentle warmth as he had quietly said "Do you want me to take care of it?"

Badly frightened by the shark like emptiness in his eyes, she had stammered "Wh...what?"

He had simply, coolly, repeated the question, adding "Or I could ask Gibbs to, if you'd prefer..." He had held her hand and her eyes as he had waited for a response. She had appraised him for a long few seconds then said "Thanks, but no. He's long gone and I made sure he won't be back.."

The life and warmth had returned to his eyes as he'd released her hand and leaned back. Waving the waiter over he had ordered her a half glass of wine. She had waited for him to make a move, hit on her in some way, but instead he had only said "If you need anything, help, someone to vent to, that kind of thing...well, I believe you have access to the master cell phone list, no?" He had given her one of his rare warm and gentle smiles that had been mercifully free of any pity, judgment, or condemnation for what she privately considered to be her own gross stupidity, and let the whole subject drop.

He had escorted her back to her office that day and stopped her just outside with a hand on her arm. She had tensed, thinking he was really smooth to delay his approach till that moment, but all he had said was "I meant it, Cyn. If you need a friend for something, I'm always around." His eyes had wrinkled with concern as he added "Be careful, okay?"

Then Gibbs had rounded the corner and snapped "If you're done romancing the Director's assistant, DiNozzo, we have a case," and had kept on going at full steam. Tony had given Cynthia a wryly amused look while tossing "On it, Boss," after the retreating form. He had stayed long enough to say "If I'm not in the bullpen I'm on my cell, okay?" He'd waited till she nodded then gave her one of his trademark leering grins while he eyed her figure appreciatively for just a moment. Then he had turned on his heel and disappeared into the wake of his long gone boss. She had formed the definite opinion that he had ogled her so openly just to reassure her that it wasn't because he didn't find her attractive, that he hadn't hit on her.

Though he had occasionally flirted with her as the years passed, she could tell it was tongue in cheek; he never crossed any lines and what was between them had ripened into a warm and comfortable friendship. She was certain that she saw a side of Tony others seldom saw. Free from the need to maintain his image as either the sexually aggressive player or the highly competitive Senior Field Agent of NCIS' top major case team, she found him an exceptionally warm, caring, and supportive friend.

She had sensed at once that Agent Todd's recent death had devastated him, and had been touched that he trusted her friendship enough to open up to her a little about his grief and anger, and his sense of loss. When he had talked to her about his initial reservations about Ziva, he had not tried to manipulate her or use her friendship to get information; instead, he had simply asked her directly if there was anything she felt able to share concerning Ziva's "friendship" with Director Shepard. She had been both glad for him, and very proud of him, as he had assumed the mantle of Team Lead after Gibbs' 'retirement'. She interacted with all the team leads, and she knew he had done a superlative job. She had worried for him as the undercover operations had taken their toll, and ached to see the bewilderment in his face, and the misery in his eyes, after Gibbs had handed him his belongings in a cardboard box and casually demoted him back to Senior Field Agent in front of the entire bullpen. She had been as aware as he had been that Gibbs' performance was still suffering when he returned from Mexico. For the sake of their friendship, she had helped him to protect Gibbs, whom she had respected and whom she knew Tony idolized. She had hurt for both men, when she had realised that their relationship had never really been the same after Gibbs' return.

She hadn't thought she would ever stop having nightmares after she, along with the Director, Tony's team and about fifteen other people had watched Tony's car explode in bright, grisly color on every screen in MTAC. She had seen the shock and guilt in Jenny's face; but it had been Gibbs' total disintegration in the hallway outside of MTAC that still haunted her. Though his face had been grey with shock, and his eyes bright, Gibbs had called Dr. Mallard, notified Dr. Sciuto, given the remainder of his team their orders and conferred with the Director without cracking.

She had been two steps behind Gibbs as he left MTAC and had watched as he suddenly stopped in the hall, trembling, his back to her. He had turned quickly and punched the wall to their left with every ounce of strength he had. Then he had leaned his forearms on the wall and rested his head on them, eyes tightly shut, obviously unaware of her presence. He had whispered "Oh God, Tony...," his voice breaking on his agent's name, then his shoulders had begun to shake. Appalled , she had realised he was probably crying, something she could scarcely conceive of, and she had felt suddenly that she was doing something indecent, witnessing his grief.

She'd watched helplessly for about twenty seconds, as he had fought for control and she'd edged quietly backwards until she was level with the ladies room door. As he had begun to raise his head from his forearms she had ducked quickly through the door, then come right back out, hoping he would believe she had not seen him fall apart. Knowing he had seen her in MTAC, she had walked right up to him and said softly, "I'm so sorry, Agent Gibbs." She'd made no attempt to stem her own tears.

His face had been dry but his eyes had been damp and reddened, and she had thought that day that she had never seen any one so completely destroyed by grief. He had seemed dazed and unable to respond to her condolences. On a sudden thought, she had offered to get him coffee and to her surprise he'd accepted. Going to the beverage station in her office, she filled the largest mug she could find. He had waited, eyes shut, leaning against the wall, and had accepted the coffee with a choked "Thanks." Sure that sooner or later he would have questions about Tony's undercover assignment with Jeanne Benoit, she had lingered after he accepted the coffee. He'd drunk about half the coffee in a few large swallows, then taken a deep, shuddering breath.

The one and only question he had asked that day had taken her totally by surprise. "Was he happy, with her?" His voice had been soft and thick with raw pain.

Startled, she had paused a moment before replying. "With Dr. Benoit? Yes. I've never seen him that happy since I've known him."

Gibbs' eyes had filled and he had looked away, nodding as his jaw tightened and full understanding had finally hit him. He'd closed his eyes in obvious anguish for a few moments, then had raised the mug to his lips and drained the rest of the coffee. Handing the mug back, he had caught her eyes for a second and whispered "Thank you Cynthia." As he had walked away, she had realised that he was thanking her for a multitude of things, but above all, for simply having been enough of a friend to Tony to even know whether he had been happy with Jeanne. Few people ever pitied Jethro Gibbs, but in that moment she had.

When Tony had turned up some seven hours later, alive and physically unharmed, Cynthia would have sworn she had felt the news spreading through the building like a wave, much the same way news of his 'death' had. Her first glimpse of him had frightened her, though. He'd been making acerbic comments and generally trying to do what he himself would have called "give good face", but to her, he bore an uncanny resemblance to the way Gibbs had looked outside of MTAC. She hadn't needed to hear any part of the private debrief with the Director to know that his cover with Jeanne had been blown and he had lost her. Gibbs had been beside himself with fury at what the Director had put Tony through, but underneath that fury she had seen the almost fierce joy at knowing Tony was alive, if not unscathed.

But as the weeks had passed into months, her worry for Tony had become more and more acute. To her, he had visibly faded, cutting himself off emotionally from pretty much everyone. And in the weeks since he had fished Gibbs out of the water, his health had been part of that fading. To her eyes he was now gaunt, pale and almost ghostlike, a shadow of the man she had first met. Though he remained, as ever, warm and friendly, a definite superficiality had crept into his interactions with her, as if he was simply too tired and too down to spare the emotional energy for a more genuine , and thus for him, more taxing interaction. He had become so closed off that earlier in the week she had sought out the only other member of Gibbs' team she felt she could talk to, Tim McGee. Tuesday she had cornered McGee outside of Interrogation and dragged him into the observation room.

She had said, without preamble, "Tim, do you guys have any clue at all that Tony is not okay?"

McGee slowly met her eyes and she'd seen misery and helplessness in his face. "Yeah," he'd said softly, "Yeah we know he's not okay." He'd turned away, clearly upset, fumbling for words. "You know, this guy, ...he shows up for work and... he looks like Tony, sounds like him, mostly acts like him; he does Tony's job and does it well, but underneath it all he's just..."

"Empty," Cynthia finished for him.

"Yeah," McGee had whispered sadly. "It's not like we haven't tried, Cynthia. But... when I started to really think about it, to try to find some way to...to reach him, I realised he knows everything about me, knows my sister, knows the names of all my family, hell he even knows my sister's birthday and favorite pizza, but I know next to nothing about him. I know he's an only child, that his father is a very wealthy business man, that his mother's dead, that he's estranged from his family, and he doesn't go anywhere on most holidays. I know how he takes his coffee and that he prefers tea, but I don't know what kind of tea. I know he likes breakfast burritos and what his favorite pizza is. I know that half the girls he has supposedly dated don't exist and that..." he had trailed off for a moment then swallowed hard and finished, "I know he cared more for Jeanne Benoit than any other woman I've ever seen him with."

His face had clouded with pain as he looked at her and continued "I know he was with the Baltimore and Philadelphia police before he came here and that he went to Ohio State. I know he really likes vintage cars and that he loves movies and TV, and that he has very expensive tastes. And that is it. I don't know anything else personal about him. I don't know anything about his family; I don't know when or how his mom died, I don't know if he has any aunts or uncles or living grandparents, or why he seems to be estranged from what family he has. I don't know if he goes to church or if he even has any religious beliefs, I don't know if pizza really is his favorite food, I don't know if he has any other hobbies or interests aside from movies and video games, I don't know if he has any tattoos, I don't know what size clothes he wears, I could go on forever. I don't even know exactly when his birthday is though he's never forgotten mine. I've worked with him for over four years. He knows all those things about me." He had paused and shaken his head, a bitter frown on his face, and she had seen that he was full of self recrimination. "I can't tell you how I felt when I realised that."

Cynthia had sighed deeply and said "Yeah, I know what you mean. I know what tea he likes, I know he's Catholic but hasn't been to church in years, but other than that I can't really say I know much more about him than you do. I like him. We've been friends since I started working here; I would have said good friends, fairly close, but I noticed real quickly that he shuts you down if you ask him anything about himself. That's just what he does. He learns everything about you and uses it to disarm you and deflect you from asking him anything personal. I've always felt it was a real gift, the few times he's trusted me enough to talk to me about personal things. I do know he'd do anything in the world for people he considers friends, but it seems to me like he doesn't expect people to reciprocate. And I know this, Tim. He's in trouble. He's not okay. And I know if we can't help him , and soon, we could lose him."

McGee had paled. "What do you mean, lose him?"

"Tim, six weeks ago, without waiting for backup, he faced down two armed suspects and dove into a freezing harbor to rescue Agent Gibbs and a civilian, and did CPR on both of them for several minutes. He could have been shot, he could have drowned, he could have gotten pneumonia, he could have died at any number of points during that incident.."

McGee had interrupted her "He didn't have any choice about that. He knew they were in the water and the only way to get to them was through the suspects. He didn't have time to wait for back-up."

Cynthia had looked hard at McGee and said forcefully "You don't get it. Before – before Jeanne - he would have taken an agent from another team with him when he left the office if you and Ziva weren't available." She had reached out and put a hand on his arm. "Tim, what happened between Tony and Agent Gibbs?"

"What do you mean?"

"Tim, the first year I was here I would have said," she had paused briefly, then continued, "Well, I would have said Tony and Agent Gibbs were very, very close. I mean, they used to finish each others' sentences. It was almost scary how much they seemed in tune with each other. But after Agent Gibbs got back from Mexico, something changed. It wasn't the same between them. I know it hurt both of them. I was seeing a lot of Tony, because of the undercover ops, and I could see that it just tore him up inside. He tried really hard to hide it. At first I thought it was because he couldn't tell Agent Gibbs about the undercover work. I thought he felt conflicted because the Director basically ordered him to lie to his own Team Leader, but I realised pretty quickly that that wasn't it, at least not all of it. Before all of this I would have said that if anyone could reach him it would have been Agent Gibbs. But now, I don't know. It frightens me to know that he needs someone to help pull him back from the edge and there's no one who can get close enough to do it. What happened between them?"

McGee had sat down heavily in one of the chairs and stared blankly ahead for a few moments. Finally he'd said softly, "I really don't know. But you're right, things changed between the two of them. I think part of it was that Tony was Team Lead for almost three months. I think he realised he could do it without Gibbs. And I don't think...I know it sounds strange, but I don't think he was entirely comfortable knowing that. I know he was glad to see Gibbs come back, but the way Gibbs just kinda shoved him back to his desk and demoted him, it bothered him. I thought myself it was poorly handled, but that's Gibbs, you know, second 'B' for bastard..."

Cynthia had interrupted him, suddenly furious on behalf of her friend. "Bothered him!? Poorly handled!? Christ, Tim it gutted him! Tony was running NCIS's number one Major Case Team and juggling multiple undercover operations for the Director. He did a great job. I know he didn't really mind his 'demotion' back to Senior Field Agent, because he told me himself he was certain Gibbs would be back eventually. But I'll bet Agent Gibbs didn't even thank Tony for keeping his seat warm, did he? I think all Tony really wanted, was to know that he'd done a good job. But I know for a fact that Agent Gibbs didn't say a damn thing about the job Tony did. Not to Tony anyway. And did you know that Gibbs wasn't one hundred percent when he came back? Do you and Ziva have any idea the lengths Tony went to, to protect him?"

McGee had swiveled his chair around and stared at her. "What are you talking about? Why should Tony have to protect Gibbs? What from?"

Cynthia had returned the stare for a long moment then sighed and turned away, suddenly sure that Tony would have gone to great lengths to protect the rest of his team from fully understanding exactly how impaired Gibbs had been. She had realised suddenly that she might have gone too far, said a little too much.

"Forget it, Tim," she had said shortly. "The point is that Tony...needs something. I'm his friend and I can feel him slipping away from us emotionally. I can see him fading physically. I'm afraid he's going to make a mistake and get himself killed. Or worse, someone else, and I know that would...destroy him." She had paused for a moment, contemplating such a nightmare. She'd felt sure that if Tony got someone, friend or stranger, killed because he messed up, he wouldn't survive it. She had continued bitterly, "It would kill whatever was left of him inside. He doesn't just need our help, Tim, he goddamn well deserves it. I don't want to lose him because nobody bothered to try."

Now, with Tony standing in front of her and these memories running through her mind, she could still feel Tim McGee' s eyes on her as he had said in anguish, "I don't want to see something like that either, Cynthia. But, I just don't know what it is he needs. I know he doesn't need me hanging on him, trying to get him to open up, trying to be the kind of friend we've never been to each other. I'd like to think he knows already that I'd give him almost anything he asked for, do just about anything he wanted or needed me to do. He's never been a real sharing kind of guy, when it comes to his feelings, at least not with me. I think he's a lot like Gibbs in that regard. If he's gonna share his feelings it would be with Gibbs, or maybe Abby. I'll talk Abby, and with Ziva and Ducky. It's not like we're just standing around waiting for him to fall. But, he's got to meet us at least part way."

"Do you think that Agent Gibbs has any idea how bad things are with Tony?" she had asked, still reaching for some way to help her friend.

"Oh, trust me," McGee had said, shivering slightly. "He knows."

"Cynthia? You okay?" The warm concern in Tony's voice brought her suddenly back to the present.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I just kind of zoned out for moment there," trying not to let her worry show on her face as she eyed him critically. She was dismayed by what she saw. At two inches over six feet, Tony normally weighed between 175 and 180 pounds. Now, he looked like he was below 160, possibly much lower. His cheeks were hollow and she realised suddenly that the bones on the backs of his hands were clearly visible. Though he was neatly groomed and well turned out in one of his designer suits, the normally well fitting suit hung off of him, and nothing could really hide his exhaustion, clearly visible in his face and posture and dominating his eyes. His pallor was also alarming and she realised that he looked worse now than he had when she had first met him, when he had been just recovering from his bout of pneumonic plague. It struck her as almost cruelly ironic that he was obviously concerned for her when he looked himself like he might collapse on her floor at any moment. She searched for a moment for some way to show her concern without embarrassing him.

"You're looking a little weary yourself there," she said, trying hard to keep actual fear out of her voice. "Can I interest you in a cup of Yorkshire Gold? Just got it in from the beverage service along with the little cups of real half-and-half."

Tony smiled at her, a real smile, warm and filled with gratitude and perhaps just a shade of relief. "God. I'd really love that Cyn. Thanks for getting it in. You're a lifesaver, I swear. You might want to let Ducky know you've got a stash up here too; he loves the stuff."

Tony's gratitude at what she considered such a simple gesture of friendship nearly broke her attempts to keep a hold on her feelings, to keep it professional, like he clearly wanted to. She nodded at him by way of reply as she got up and moved to the beverage station, getting down his mug and the box of tea. It was several moments before she could trust herself to speak, and then she was glad that the acts of opening the box and putting a bag of tea in the mug and filling it from the boiling water tap, kept her back to him. "Will you be wanting to see the Director then?"

"Yeah. I only need a couple of minutes, but I need a couple of private minutes." It was spoken evenly, almost lightly, but his eyes were grave and she thought she saw a flash of suppressed pain as she turned and handed him the mug and the cream packets.

"Okay," she said, letting her worry show a little in her eyes, along with the unasked questions. "I think she was about to call you and Agent Gibbs up here anyway. Shouldn't be any problem."

"She was going to be calling us up here?" His lifted eyebrows clearly asked Why?

Nodding, she said "Yes. Some case." She shrugged, spreading her hands as she continued, " I really don't have any of the details."

He nodded his understanding. "Okay. If you'll ring me on through. But listen, Cyn, Gibbs is probably going to be right up here behind me, and I really need a couple of private minutes." Her heart sank as he said it.

Instead of sitting back down she faced him directly and let him see her sadness as she asked "Are we losing you, Tony?"

She had hoped for an outright denial, but he only tilted his head to one side and said gently, "Not if I can help it. But I just can't make any...promises right now." He studied her face for a moment before adding, equally gently, "I'm sorry."

She looked away for a moment, then met his eyes again and said warmly, "We'd miss you, Tony. I'd miss you." His mouth opened but no sound came out and she realised he was almost shocked to hear that sentiment put so simply and so directly. For the second time in as many minutes she had to fight to keep a professional hold on her emotions.

After a moment Tony seemed to regain his self possession and he smiled softly as he said, "Thank you. I...I appreciate that, more than you know. I'd miss you too." He paused for just a moment then said, "I really need to get in there, Cyn. Before Gibbs storms in like the second coming," he added ruefully. She grinned back at him and reached for the intercom handset.

"Madam Director? Agent DiNozzo is requesting a brief private meeting. He says just a few minutes. No m'am, he's not. Okay. Yes m'am. I will." She hung up the handset and said with amusement, "She wanted to know if Agent Gibbs was out here with you. Go on in. I'll delay him as long as I can." She too had no doubt that Gibbs would be right behind his Senior Field Agent.

Tony, who had been engaged in creaming and sugaring his tea, nodded and to her surprise suddenly slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her into a brief hug and planted a quick, chaste kiss on her cheek. Letting her go, he moved quickly to the door to the director's office. But there, he paused and turned back to her, obviously trying to frame something he wanted to say.

After some internal struggle, he finally spoke. "Cynthia, if I never said it, I, well, ...I've enjoyed our friendship. It's been important to me. Thank you." He turned and went on into the Director's office without waiting to see her reaction or for a reply. Which was fortunate, because she was too shocked and distressed to respond immediately.

A sense of grief overtook her as she realised that in his own oblique way, Tony had just said goodbye.