Now

Sitting in his kitchen seventeen years later Jethro chuckled to himself. No, he hadn't asked, but from that night on, any time Tony looked ill, Jethro always checked for nausea first! Pouring himself more coffee, he finished recalling his memory.

He had managed to get both of them clean, strip the bed, and get Tony's temperature taken within a half hour. Jethro mentally thanked his be- prepared- for- anything Marine training. The fever was a hundred and four that night also, and Jethro managed to get Tony to keep down the medicine and drink some water. Reaching for the phone, Tony looked at his dad accusingly. "It's not good manners to call people at late night, Daddy. Abuela said so."

Gibbs grinned and dialled, "You are right, but we're going to call Ducky. He's a doctor, right? Well, Ducky's like the Red Cross- you always call him when disaster strikes."

Tony, worn out and beginning to tear up because he felt so bad, nodded his approval. "Ok, Daddy- let's call in the Red Cross."

Gibbs checked the kitchen clock. It was after four. Walking quietly, he made his way back to his room to check on Tony. Tony was curled almost in a ball, with only his hair sticking out of the covers. His father shifted the blanket so that he could feel his forehead, then visibly relaxed when he realized Tony wasn't as hot as he had been. Covering him again he shook his head at Tony's ritual. Anytime that Tony felt sick, he would head straight to his father' s room and crawl into his bed. Once daylight came Jethro could move him back to his own bed, but Tony demanded that he stay in his dad's bed until morning. Gibbs thought Tony must have some hidden toddler memories of before Shannon's death, when as a baby, Jethro and Shannon would bring Tony into their bed when he was sick.

Back in the kitchen, his mind skipped through scenes of Tony's childhood illnesses. He focused on one, when Tony was eleven. Tony felt so bad that by the time he had made it into his father's bed and woken him, he was crying from sheer exhaustion. He had been a sick little boy that time, and Ducky had diagnosed tonsils that had to be removed immediately. As soon as he was well and the antibiotic finished, Tony's tonsils were removed. Despite the fact that the nurses fell in love with him and made a big fuss over him, which Tony definitely enjoyed, he hated the hospital and begged Ducky and Jethro to let him go home quickly.

Dawn was breaking and Jethro slipped back up to the bedroom to check his son. Tony was sleeping restlessly, shifting a bit, and Jethro could tell his fever was going back up. He dressed quickly. It was Saturday, so he didn't have to go to the Agency. Tony, a senior at Ohio State, was home for Christmas break, so he wouldn't be missing classes.

Ducky was just coming through the door when Jethro headed back downstairs. They exchanged nods and Ducky went to Tony. Instinctively he turned to Jethro's bedroom.

Jethro put on a fresh pot of coffee and got some water heated for Ducky's tea. He pulled out sugar and cream, and had everything ready when Ducky finished his assessment and came to brief Jethro.

Sipping their beverages, both marvelled at the number of times the same scene had transpired between them. Definitely, it was déjà vu.

"The lad's pretty sick. It's bronchitis, so he will need a regimen of antibiotics. I gave him a shot of penicillin, but you are going to have to get this prescription for an antibiotic filled. I want him to take the entire ten days of medicine, even if he feels better."

Jethro nodded in understanding, "Ok, Duck, I'll get the prescription first thing."

"I know you will," Ducky smiled. "He needs to rest, not gallivant as he is wont to do."

Jethro nodded again and thanked his friend for coming to his aid. Ducky waved his hand in dismissal. "You need to rest, too, Jethro. Try to get some sleep when he does. I'll come check him this evening."

Three days later Tony was sitting up on the sofa, loosely wrapped in a blanket. He held the remote aimed at the television and his lip was poked in a pout as he called out to his parent, "Dad, I don't feel sick anymore. There's no reason I can't go out now. I don't have a fever anymore. Dad, are you listening? It is just plain wrong. This is not fair to not let me go anywhere or do anything!"

Jethro entered the living room and turned his gaze on his son. Correctly interpreting the stare, Tony's eyes went wide and he quickly amended, "I didn't mean to yell, Dad, or to sound disrespectful."

His father nodded in agreement and pointed to the television. "There are plenty of things to watch, and you also have lots to read. Quit complaining, and quit whining."

"Dad, you are being overprotective. Why can't I at least have my phone? My social life is suffering. I feel like I am on house arrest or something." Tony's pout intensified.

"No phone, no car, no friends, no anything until you have been fever free for three days. That hasn't happened yet. Yes, I guess it is house arrest, but if you keep up with that attitude, it's going to be house arrest combined with a sore bottom. Am I clear?"

Tony sighed and realized his father wasn't going to be swayed from his decision. Further, keeping up fussing might not be wise. His dad always kept him close to home when he was sick, and as for the threat of a sore bottom, he really didn't want his dad to make good on that threat. He still had a tender spot from Ducky's injection of penicillin. "I got it, Dad."

Jethro smiled and went over to tousle Tony's hair. "You're still not strong enough to get back to a full schedule now. Just behave, and follow orders, and maybe, just maybe, we can give the Red Cross a good Christmas present- not needing his services for the rest of the holiday!"