This is my first NCIS fic, though I've lurked and reviewed around the fandom for ages. "Flesh and Blood" was a piece of television beauty that I will watch, watch, and re-watch as often as possible. And here is my tiny, un-betaed contribution to the Tony/Gibbs father/son connection that fills the canon and fandom of this show. I'm a little rusty, so please be kind! :)
Edit: I have no idea how this temporarily got replaced by the same document as "A Sense of Family." (Okay, I have some idea, centering on the fact that 4am is a bad time to be doing uploads, but still.) Sorry for the confusion, but all should be well now!
It is much easier to become a father than to be one. ~Kent Nerburn
---
"You have children, Gibbs?"
And, as usual, Gibbs freezes up at the question. Only this time, it's not for his usual reasons. In the past four years, the reflexive lump of anguish that rises to his throat at the question has become, if not acceptable, then tolerable and expected. It is not the thought of Kelly's smile and Kelly's laugh and Kelly's life that gives him such pause this time. It is, instead, the thought of Tony's dark eyes and Tony's false grin and Tony's sense of hurt hidden behind that clown act. It's the fact that, in this moment, Gibb's almost says 'I do,' and not 'I did.'
"I had a daughter, and I have a son." The alien words sound in his head, but do not escape his paralyzed lips.
The moment is one of both perfect clarity and utter shock. Because, yes, Gibbs has always been fond of Tony, has always worried about him and been grudgingly amused by him and wanted to teach him things and help him. But he's really only ever thought of himself as his boss, or perhaps even a reluctant friend. The word father never even crossed his mind as anything more than a groaned joke.
The reality though, is that no mere "employee" would keep himself from death's plague-filled grasp just on his boss's say so. No simple friend or agent would "think the world of him." No "employee" would look up to Gibbs the way he knows Tony does-- something that reaches beyond the professional and into the personal. No mere agent would jump into a freezing river with scarred lungs to save his ass of a boss and the girl that caused him to jeopardize his career and his life for the ghost of a memory.
And, come to think of it, no "boss" would be sitting another man's father down to have a "talk" with him. Gibbs has been a fool not to see it before, not to recognize it, not to appreciate it.
"I have a son, and he doesn't need you because he's got me so go away." And the bitterness rises in his throat now, forced up by the words he wont say (has no right to say), familiar even with its foreign source.
He doesn't have a son. Tony isn't, and there in front of Gibbs sits undeniable biological proof, in the set of a very familiar jaw line and the ridge of a nose and the pitch of a laugh. Tony has a father, one who has failed at his job miserably, and though Gibbs can understand failure, he cannot understand apathy or negligence or this asinine, willful ignorance of this gift known as fatherhood that DiNozzo Senior has within his grasp every single day.
In whatever fairness Gibbs can spare him, the man sitting in front of Gibbs is no tyrant. But that is a far cry from saying he's never been one. Gibbs has seen Tony falter too swiftly and submit too completely under the merest glance from this man in the past few days to be fooled by the elder Anthony's current state of general docility. And Gibbs has seen the way Tony looks at him when the bourbon is too strong on his breath: wary and careful, and watching Gibbs' hands, always his hands.
And grief makes men wild, makes them angry, makes them crazy. Gibbs knows that and he can understand it. He recognizes, too, the way the years can mellow a man and bring him a peace that distances him so far from that mournful savage that he remembers it only as a hazy nightmare of himself and his former life. The monster Anthony Senior may have been has been stored quietly somewhere, likely in the bottom of a dusty scotch bottle, and forgotten.
But there is a broken arm on Tony's medical chart, and there is no explanation beside it, or beside the welts and bruises listed along with it from that one, singular, mysterious incidence, and two weeks later, Tony was in boarding school, and Gibb's knows too goddamn well that there was a violent, bloody line crossed, and that there's a story there he'll never hear the details of. Never wants to, maybe, for everybody's sake. (A greenstick fracture, the chart said. The idea of ever twisting Kelly's arm that hard--)
Killing DiNozzo Senior is not Gibb's job, though. Exacting revenge on Tony's behalf is not his job. It would be in a heartbeat, if that's what Tony needed, and if Gibbs were fool enough to think things were ever that simple and that clear cut, but it isn't and they aren't, and the job of a father is to provide what his child needs. And Tony needs the man sitting in front of Gibbs to wake up, to see, to care even a little bit about the man his son has become, even if he never did for the boy he was. Judgment is pointless, and it isn't Gibbs' place to hate DiNozzo Senior (more than a little, anyway) because it won't help Tony and that makes it useless.
A territorial pissing-contest over Tony isn't helpful either, as much as Gibbs suddenly wants to get into one. Gibbs would win it hands-down and he knows it, but that isn't the point because it isn't what Tony needs. Gibbs isn't what Tony needs, because Gibbs isn't his father, and this is about what Tony needs, and so Gibbs sucks it up and does his best for the child he never knew and the son he doesn't have.
"Had. A daughter." He says finally, the words sad, both because they're true, and because they're not all. And then he talks about regret, and he talks about missed opportunities, and he doesn't yell or punch or shoot, because that's not his duty-- not what he's here to do. He's here to do what's best for Tony, whatever's best for Tony, at whatever cost to himself, even if it means giving up the son he doesn't have to the dad that never really was.
After all, it's a father's job.
Fin.
Like it? Hate it? Want to beat it with a stick? Any which way, I would dearly adore any and all reviews! There is a possible companion piece/sequel to this in the works, but I suppose I feel like I ought to test the waters before diving in with both feet. Thanks for reading.