Title: Road Trip
by: rose malmaison
Characters: DiNozzo, Gibbs
Genre: Gen, friendship, pre-show (1991-1993)
Rating: PG/teen
Warnings: Language, hint of earlier physical abuse
Spoilers: None

A/N: Thanks everyone for the comments you've left! I'm glad so many people seem to like this story. This is the final chapter.

Chapter 6 - A Great Strange Dream

Happiness consists in realizing it is all a great strange dream.
~ Jack Kerouac

July 30, 1993, Columbus, Ohio

"Yeah, I'm getting a ride with a buddy as far as Baltimore. I dunno. Guess I'll hitch… no… yeeees…You do know I'm not a kid, right Jethro?" Tony scuffed the toe of his sneaker on the ratty carpet in the frat house's hallway and cradled the telephone between his jaw and his shoulder. "Yes, sir. I mean yes, Gibbs, I'll take the bus." He smiled into the mouthpiece. "Bet you say that to all your friends. See you soon."

***–***

July 31, 1993, Arlington, VA

The day before Tony arrived in DC, Gibbs told his wife that a college kid was coming to work with him on the boat for the rest of the summer. Gibbs didn't give away any more information than he absolutely had to. He wouldn't have said anything at all except that Tony was going to be staying at the house, and he was pretty sure that she'd catch on that they had a houseguest.

That night, his wife accused him of being a mute bastard and slammed the bedroom door in his face, once again. Gibbs sat on his hand-built deck with a beer in his hand and looked up at the stars while he gave some thought about why he'd been so tight-lipped about Tony's visit.

All Gibbs knew was that he didn't want to share Tony with her. Could be because soon after he and Laura tied the knot, he'd had a pretty strong feeling that the marriage wasn't going to last. She was transient, passing through. But Tony? Tony was part of Gibbs' life, a permanent fixture. That's how he saw it anyway.

He'd tried to make his second marriage work, and he'd tried damned hard. The job got in the way though that wasn't the whole reason the relationship had hit the rocks. Maybe his expectations had been too high. He'd taken it for granted that she'd just understand him, as Shannon had, without having to constantly explain things and talk about his feelings. Gibbs rubbed his eyes and sighed. Shannon got it, so why didn't Laura?

Ducky was the only person he'd told about it – how he'd been hired as Tony's bodyguard and how he'd taken it upon himself to watch over the kid – and that was because the ME was the closest thing Gibbs had to a friend. He had trusted Ducky enough to ask him to take care of Tony in his absence, and Ducky had accepted readily. It was good to know that Ducky was watching his six.

After a rare bout of soul searching, after he'd progressed from beer to bourbon, Gibbs conceded that he was a possessive bastard, and more than a little fond of the kid, and that he alone was ultimately responsible for Tony's wellbeing. Not that Tony was a kid any more. Not that there was anything wrong with caring about him, either. At least with Tony he didn't have to talk about his damned feelings. Tony just seemed to get it.

Gibbs was looking forward to Tony's visit. He hadn't seen him since he'd attended his commencement ceremony at Ohio State back in May. Gibbs had felt inordinately proud that day, watching Tony accept his degrees. Afterwards, he'd seen Tony search the crowd of family members until he located Gibbs; Tony had smiled widely, been so damned happy, so full of promise. Once again, Gibbs wondered how Senior could waste yet another chance to be there for Tony, and on such an important day in his son's life.

***–***

Earlier, in May, 1993, Columbus, Ohio

Gibbs was surprised to discover that in addition to Phys. Ed. degree Tony had also earned a BS in Criminal Justice, in crime analysis.

"I didn't want to say anything in case I flunked out," explained Tony, flushing when his achievement was revealed and Gibbs let it be known how proud he was of him. "Uh, and there's more. I talked to an agent and he's scheduling for me to go to some open tryouts for pro football."

"Hey, that's great, Tony."

"Well, I don't know if anyone'll be interested in me, but at least I have a chance." Tony caught Gibbs looking at his leg, and he said, "All healed up. Ready to go."

"What does your father say about it?" Gibbs didn't bother to look around to see if DiNozzo Sr. was present. Although neither Gibbs nor Tony was surprised at the no-show, Tony struggled to hide his disappointment.

"My father?" Tony tensed a bit, his normal reaction whenever his father was mentioned. He managed to paste a somewhat convincing smile on his face when he suggested, "Uh…what he doesn't know won't hurt me?"

"You tell him anything?"

Tony raised his chin and said firmly, "Not going to, either, unless he asks me directly. I don't need his approval any more."

Gibbs doubted that Senior would be any more pleased about Tony's interest in criminal justice than he was about Tony studying physical education. A career in football wouldn't go over well, nor would Senior give his son credit where it was due for all of his hard work. Knowing what the answer would be, Gibbs asked anyway, "You planning on going home anytime soon?"

"Home?" Tony was momentarily puzzled. "Oh. No, I don't….I guess I don't have anywhere to go." He shrugged. "I'll stick around here. That job at the VA is lined up. Thanks for putting in a good word for me, Gibbs."

Gibbs had talked to the supervisor at the VA, but he didn't know how Tony had figured that out. He cleared his throat and asked, "You even talk to your dad?"

Tony bit his lower lip and studied the ground. "Last time I called my father we had a sort of 'Red River' moment." He caught Gibbs' quizzical look and prompted, "You know, John Wayne and Montgomery Clift?"

Gibbs knew the movie but he wasn't sure how it applied. He raised an eyebrow, sure that Tony would explain.

"'Red River' was Howard Hawks' first western, in 1948. Cattle drive, conflict, father and adopted son fighting it out until they come to terms with each other," Tony said. "In the book, the father bites the dust but the movie was more upbeat. Reconciliation and manly looks instead of hugs." He punched Gibbs playfully on the arm to illustrate his point and then looked thoughtful. "I wonder which it'll be between Dad and me? Hugs or a fight to the death? You can guess which ending I'd like to see."

"Life ain't like a movie, Tony," Gibbs said, more harshly than intended.

Tony tilted his head to one side and seemed to be weighing Gibbs up. "There's this line in 'Red River' that says a man should celebrate when he marries, when he has kids, and when he finishes a job that he had to be crazy to start. You don't think that sounds like real life?"

Gibbs looked at Tony for a long moment, wondering if the young man really believed that there were storybook endings and that life imitated film. If so, he was in for some big disappointments. In the end Gibbs kept his thoughts to himself and said, "My offer's still open, Tony. Come to DC in August. If you can get any time off that fancy new job of yours."

Tony met Gibbs' eyes to verify his sincerity. "You mean that, Jethro? You really want me to stay with you?"

"Isn't that what I said? It isn't gonna be lazing around in the sunshine though. I'm gonna work your ass off, DiNozzo."

Despite the warning, Tony appeared to be inordinately pleased at the invitation. "Thanks, Jethro." Tony threw his arms around Gibbs and gave him a big hug. As soon as he released Gibbs, Tony immediately said, apparently quite seriously, "So, we need to talk about this weird belief you have that life isn't a movie. Didn't your parents teach you anything? I thought you grew up in Mayberry where the cop was your second cousin and didn't carry a gun, and you and your friends played pranks like waxing the front steps of the old folks' home."

Gibbs flushed. "I never should have told you about that. Do not repeat it, Tony. You listening to me?"

Tony just grinned.

***–***

August 1, 1993, Arlington, VA

Tony knocked on the front door of Gibbs' home mid-morning on the first day of August. It was soon opened by a striking redheaded woman who looked him up and down in such a way that Tony wondered if he'd put his shirt on inside out or something. Without a slightly sour expression she motioned him inside. Lined up in the foyer were several suitcases, tote bags and a huge straw hat.

Tony thought, 'Long trip. Beach resort. Expensive luggage, good taste.'

"He's not here," she said in a flat tone as she picked up a couple of the smaller bags.

"I'm Tony DiNozzo, ma'am," he said politely, looking with interest at the little he could see of Gibbs' home from the foyer. "Is Agent Gibbs at work?" It was a weekday so Tony didn't really expect to find Gibbs at home. Considering the withering glare Tony received from Gibbs' wife he couldn't blame the guy for working long hours.

"Your guess is as good as mine." From the weary way Mrs. Gibbs spoke, she must have said the same thing a hundred times before. She demanded, "Where do you think he is?"

Apparently Mrs. Gibbs wanted an answer, so Tony asked, "Work?"

"Guess you do know him. After all, there are only two words in Leroy's vocabulary," she said tartly. "Work and boat."

When she pressed past Tony, he flattened himself against the wall, but a lifetime of training to be polite kicked in and he grabbed the remaining luggage and ran after her. She didn't take any time arranging her things in her open sports car; just took her bags and tossed them on the back seat. Tony wanted to ask what the big hurry was but the woman, though beautiful and this side of thirty, and had a brittle edge to her that reminded him of his father's second wife. He shrank inwardly and decided he wasn't going to ask her how to get hold of Gibbs. It was way too early in the day to be slapped down, even by such a good-looking woman.

Mrs. Gibbs snatched her big hat out of Tony's hands, pulled her car keys from her purse and got into the driver's seat. For the first time she stopped long enough to look Tony in the face. She sighed and said, "Look…what's your name again?"

"Tony," he supplied.

"Look, Tony, you seem like a nice young man. Do yourself a favor and don't waste your time trying to be his friend. Leroy has a damned hard shell and you'll only find more of the same inside. You'll be nothing but disappointed and it'll only sap the life right out of you." She frowned at him. "How long are you staying?"

"I'm here for August, Mrs. Gibbs."

"Hmm. If you last more than a week you'll earn yourself a medal. Just ask him to give you one of his; he has plenty to spare."

Tony was still trying to compare the Gibbs he knew with the man that this woman saw, when she put on her sunglasses and started the car. He quickly asked, "Where can I find him, ma'am? Should I call NCIS?"

"You're welcome to try. He left you an envelope on the kitchen counter." She gave a humorless laugh. "More than he's ever done for me." She backed her car down the driveway and drove off quickly as if she couldn't wait to get out of there.

Tony watched the car disappear down the street, troubled that he'd dropped into the final moments of what looked like a marriage gone sour. He'd seen enough of his father's marriages fall apart to recognize the signs. All Tony could think of was how upset Gibbs was going to be, and how he'd do his best to help him through a tough time.

***–***

There were boats of all shapes and sizes parked in the big lot, some of them hulking working vessels covered in tarps, some small motor boats. Most were in various stages of repair or refurbishment, with the engine parts and boating equipment unique to a marina piled around their landlocked bodies.

The hull of the boat that Gibbs was working on loomed high above him, supported by stabilizing metal stands and blocks. He paused while scraping the paint off the hull, feeling the presence of someone behind him. Turning his head, he saw Tony standing there, shading his eyes as he scoped out the large sailboat sitting in dry dock.

"Wow, she's…big…and…and…um…"

"Never thought I'd see the day, DiNozzo," Gibbs said with a shake of his head.

"See what day, Gibbs?"

"The day you were at a loss for words," Gibbs said with a straight face as he wiped his arm across his sweaty forehead. "Sandpaper's there," he said by way of greeting.

Tony pulled his sunglasses out of his back pocket, slipped them on and studied the wooden sailboat that had seen better days. "You treat all your guests to such a fine welcome?"

"Only the guests I like," Gibbs retorted. He wanted to tell Tony that he wasn't a guest, but he refrained. They had arranged that he would give Tony room and board and some cash in exchange for helping him refinish the old 50-footer.

Tony gamely picked up a sandpaper block and watched Gibbs to see how it was done. It appeared that Gibbs had been stripping off the old paint and planned to caulk, repair and repaint the part that would be submerged in the water. Not that Tony knew anything about boats from this perspective. "Last time I was anywhere near a boat, I had a cute girl on my arm and a cold drink in my hand," he said with a smile.

"You see any cute girls around here?" Gibbs asked caustically.

"Oh, they'll turn up," Tony said with confidence.

"Yeah, well, you'll be working so hard for me that by the end of the day you won't have any energy to do more than just look," Gibbs retorted.

"Hey, I'm an athlete, remember? Lots of stamina."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. Tony just grinned and started right in on sanding the old finish off the boat.

***–***

Within a few minutes Tony had divested himself of his t-shirt and was talking up a storm. He told Gibbs how his frat brother's pickup had broken down just outside Baltimore. They'd had to wait for a part for the truck until the next morning so they'd slept in the flatbed but it had rained. "Not exactly the best night's sleep I've ever had." Finally, parting from his friend, Tony caught a bus from Baltimore to DC, and made his way to Gibbs' house. "I found your note with the directions. Hope you don't mind I borrowed your bicycle to get here. I pumped up the tires but third gear keeps slipping."

"I can drop you off in the morning when I head to work," Gibbs offered.

Gibbs worked alongside the young man, occasionally showing him what to do. "With the grain, DiNozzo," he barked. When Gibbs stopped to take a drink of water from the cooler he'd set nearby in the shade, he realized that despite Tony's constant jabbering, he was really happy that Tony had taken him up on his invitation.

From the intel that Gibbs had gathered from Tony's supervisors at the VA health center – just to make sure he was settling in all right, Gibbs told himself – Tony was 'well-liked, motivated and sharp as a tack.' He was also a 'pain in the ass who needed a firm hand.' That last comment had come straight from the lips of a seasoned military nurse at the VA who took no crap from anyone, although she made it clear she thought the world of Tony.

Tony slipped his sunglasses off his nose, stuck them on top of his head, and squinted at the length of the big boat. He rubbed his bare stomach, and from where he stood, Gibbs could hear it rumble with hunger. "You eat anything today?" Gibbs realized they'd been working all afternoon and had only stopped for water and bathroom breaks.

Tony shrugged. "Had breakfast."

Gibbs grunted. That probably meant Tony had grabbed some fast food on the way here.

"She's looking good," Tony said with a satisfied smile at the boat. "How many hours a week do you spend here?"

"Not enough. I don't often get a whole day to work on her, but my boss got himself a new probie so he let me have a day off. Sometimes I come down here for a couple of hours after work, if there's any daylight left." Lately, he was lucky if he made it home from work by ten most nights. If Mike Franks hadn't taken on another investigator, Chris Pacci, Gibbs wouldn't have had any time off at all. He glanced at his watch. "Getting on for 6:30. We'll go find you some food soon." Now he had a 22-year-old to take care of he'd have to stock up on groceries. He wondered if there was anything to eat in the house and, more importantly, if his wife was still there.

As if reading his mind, Tony said, "I met your…uh…Mrs. Gibbs as she was leaving. I think she packed the kitchen sink in her luggage."

Gibbs tensed but didn't say a word.

Tony looked away to check his reflection in the side mirror of Gibbs' pickup, which was parked next to his boat. He tweaked his hair and said, almost formally, "If it's not convenient for me to stay at your house, I can make other arrangements." After a pause, Tony looked up at the boat and said, "Maybe I could bunk here."

If Tony had met his wife, he'd probably correctly assessed Gibbs' marital situation right off the bat. "No. She won't be around," Gibbs said gruffly. Not until summer was over; Laura's sister had a place on some island off Massachusetts where men wore linen suits, women had lawn parties, and everyone set their watches to beep at cocktail time. Hell, who was he kidding? She wouldn't be back, that much was clear. Their marriage had taken a nosedive within a month of their vows and he'd grabbed at the first overseas assignment that came his way. Not that Bosnia had been much of a picnic but, in retrospect, getting shot at seemed preferable to getting shot down.

Laura had expected something of Gibbs that he could never give, and for some crazy reason she had presumed that marriage would change him. Or that she could change him. He wasn't the kind of man who opened up easily, if at all. He was more the 'what you see is what you get' kind of guy. It didn't take her long to realize that Gibbs was unable, or unwilling, to be the man that she expected him to be. Shannon was the only woman who had ever seen him for who he really was, but even so they'd had their share of difficult moments. They'd always met halfway though, accepting that some give and take was necessary from both partners in the marriage.

Right now Gibbs couldn't see much past his anger, which was directed at himself more than at his soon-to-be-ex. He found he wasn't so much upset that the marriage had disintegrated as he was pissed that he'd been blind, and had fallen into the trap in the first place. It wouldn't happen again, he swore.

Tony eyed Gibbs with more interest than sympathy. "Is being married more than you bargained for – or less?"

He'd forgotten how astute the kid was. "She hates my line of work," Gibbs found himself saying. "Hates my long hours, hates me going undercover." She hated the stains that wouldn't come out of his clothing, the middle-of-the-night phone calls from Franks, his allegiance to job first and foremost. She hated that he wouldn't tell her everything, even though they both knew she'd hate what he'd have to say if he did let it all out. "She hates when I'm gone. Hates me even more if I'm at home for more than a couple of hours. Can't win for trying."

Gibbs picked up a new sheet of sandpaper and went back to work, leaning into the hull with each sweep of his arm. He could feel Tony's eyes following him, his intent gaze burning into the back of his head. All of a sudden, he felt trapped and irritated, and knowing that Tony was watching him made Gibbs impatient. He didn't want Tony to be a witness to what he was going through; it was the kind of thing a man had to deal with on his own.

"Is this your boat, Gibbs? I mean are you planning on sailing her around the world once you're finished, like Nicole Kidman and Sam Neill in 'Dead Calm'? Hopefully without any psychotic men coming aboard."

Gibbs said sharply, "As soon as she's finished, she's going up for sale, that okay with you? Now are you gonna pitch in, DiNozzo, or is this too much manual labor for you? If this isn't what you expected you can bail out right now." Gibbs knew that he wasn't being fair but ever since he returned from Bosnia these dark moods would just come over him without any notice. No telling what would trigger them, either; he'd be fine one minute and then something would set him off. He hated that he sounded pissed when he said, "Maybe you should just leave, too." Gibbs regretted his words the moment they were out of his mouth. He tensed, waiting for Tony to get angry and leave, closing his eyes tight, wishing he didn't feel like he was going to explode at any moment.

When Tony spoke from somewhere behind Gibbs, he sounded worried. "I don't hate you, Jethro."

Gibbs froze, his hand flat on the hull of the boat. How was it that Tony could tolerate him when his own wife couldn't? "Yeah, well, just give it some time," Gibbs said without much heat.

Tony approached with careful steps until he was so close that all Gibbs had to do was straighten and they'd probably touch.

"I'm not going anywhere, Gibbs. I've got your six," Tony assured him in a low tone, barely above a whisper. "Remember when you first came to my apartment? You said we should see if we could survive before we made any long-term plans. I think we've survived pretty well so far. I got through college and have some solid plans for the future, thanks to you. And you have a job you love, a really important one. You make things better for people every day of your life, Gibbs, and not many people can say that. You've made it better for me. If you hadn't encouraged me I wouldn't have gone to those tryouts and, okay, not getting picked up for a team wasn't exactly the highlight of my life, but at least I tried. I'd have always wondered and now I know. Now it's time to take the next step."

Gibbs was touched by Tony's words of blind support, but he couldn't find the right words to respond in kind. He swallowed hard and said, "Go wash up now and we'll get some food."

For a few long seconds Tony didn't move. He then let out a long breath and stepped away. "Sure thing, Jethro."

Gibbs listened to the splash of water from the hose from over by his truck. By the time Gibbs had cleaned up and put his tools away, Tony had turned off the water and was pulling on his t-shirt. They got in the truck and were on the way when Tony turned to Gibbs and said, "I know you don't want to hear this, Gibbs, but we need to get something straight or else we're never gonna make it through the whole month together and this is really important to me. You see…uh…I…"

"Spit it out, DiNozzo."

"Well, you see, I have to have extra cheese and sausage and pepperoni on my pizza, or else it just isn't right and I get really cranky if my pizza isn't just as I like. Just thought you should know what you're getting into here," said Tony seriously.

Gibbs stared at Tony and then burst into laughter. It was probably from relief, but at that moment he was sure that everything between them was going to be just fine. "Sausage and pepperoni, it is then."

"And extra cheese," Tony said with a smile in his voice.

"And extra cheese," Gibbs agreed.

***–***

Gibbs ordered the pizza and when it was delivered they sat on lawn chairs out on the deck. A few beers, and the knowledge that his wife wasn't going to be walking in on them, mellowed Gibbs somewhat. Okay, he felt a bit strange and a little bit guilty about coming home to an empty house, to the reality that she'd really left. But there was some relief in there, too, and even though that made Gibbs feel even more guilty, he put the bad feelings aside and concentrated on Tony.

Gibbs couldn't keep up with Tony's one-sided conversation, the way he was jumping from topic to topic as fast as a radio sportscaster covering a hot game, but he found himself enjoying Tony's company all the same.

Gibbs looked up at the starry night sky and wondered how long it would take to finish fixing up the boat. He just wanted to put her on the market so there'd be no more reminder of his soon-to-be ex-wife. He'd already decided that this winter he'd build a sailboat in his basement, one of those Amigo kits, a 22-footer. A boat he could easily handle by himself. A man needs a hobby to take his mind off all the shit that comes with the job, and working with his hands was a whole hell of a lot more productive than sitting on his ass at the local bar night after night. He'd done enough of that after Shannon and Kelly were killed.

Ever since he'd started at NCIS it had been go, go, go, what with his short-lived marital bliss, that overseas op, and Mike Franks' constant push to bring dirtbags that kept him on the run 'til late at night to justice. Franks didn't mind bending the rules if it got the job done but the director was usually worried about political repercussions. It was DC, after all. At least now that Pacci was on the team, Gibbs wasn't the probie any more. Now there was something to smile about.

Tony was still talking about movies with boats, apparently not caring if Gibbs was listening to him or not. When he could get a word in edgewise, Gibbs asked, "What kind of markers did you have to call in to get a whole month off your job?"

Tony tensed and his ramblings came to an abrupt stop.

It took a couple of seconds for Gibbs to realize he'd made an assumption that was apparently wrong. Shit, rule number eight: never take anything for granted. "They did give you leave, didn't they?"

Tony picked at the label on his beer bottle then stood abruptly and headed towards the kitchen. "Want another beer?"

Gibbs' voice stopped him cold. "Hey! Get the hell back here and tell me what's going on."

Tony did as he was told and slumped in the chair like a sullen teenager. He played with his empty beer bottle until Gibbs leaned over and smacked the back of his head.

"Ow!" Tony stared in shock at Gibbs and then said, in a small but defensive voice, "Okay, I'm not on leave. I left my job."

Gibbs told himself not to yell, that it wouldn't solve anything. He already regretted slapping Tony, especially since he knew how badly Tony had reacted to a perceived threat, like that time when Gibbs had gone to the frat house and Tony had thought Gibbs was going to hit him. Stupid, stupid, he thought. In a carefully controlled voice Gibbs asked, "You quit a good job so you could laze around all summer, DiNozzo?"

Tony sat up straight and retorted, "After the paces you put me through today I wouldn't exactly call it lazing, Gibbs. I'm willing to work. And why is it you're ready to assume the worst of me? Are you even going to give me a chance to explain?"

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "So explain."

Tony sighed and gave in. "Okay, everything was going fine at the VA. I developed new adaptive sports programs, coached a wheelchair basketball team for paraplegics, and I even motivated some of the recent vets to join in but…" He ran a hand through his hair. "It was good and steady work but it just wasn't enough, Gibbs. I kept thinking about the times I worked on mock crime scenes in my crime analysis class. I remembered the excitement when I was out in the field. Sure, there was a lot of dry stuff and statistics, but I knew it was for me."

When it became apparent that Gibbs wasn't going to come down on him, Tony leaned forward and said, "For as long as I remember my father's been telling me how my life was going to play out. He chose the career I was gonna have before I was even shaving, had me play with kids whose parents he thought I would need to know when I grew up. He had it all mapped out but I bucked him every chance I got. He signed me up for lacrosse? I played basketball. He arranged for me to take the daughter of some bigwig out on a fancy date; instead I took the chauffeur's daughter to a pool hall and we drank so much the cops picked us up on the way home. Dad thought I was giving him a hard time just because I was going through a James Dean stage or something, but I always knew that everything he was planning for me was wrong. No way was I gonna work a desk job at DNZ Enterprises and be able to keep my sanity." Tony ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "When I stuck to my guns and told him I wasn't going to follow his master plan, that I was going to OSU, and it finally sunk in that I meant what I said, he hit me so hard I lost a couple of teeth."

Gibbs understood what Tony was saying. He, too, had been at odds with his father, especially about going into the Marines on his 18th birthday. Hell, they'd had friction over just about every choice Gibbs had ever made, except with his choice of a bride. That was one thing that Jackson Gibbs had wholeheartedly agreed was a good thing. Not that his dad had ever struck him, not in anger or to bully him. Knowing that Tony's father had beaten his son gave Gibbs a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. How any parent could do that to a child was beyond him.

"I'm going to be an investigator, Gibbs. I really want this."

Being an NCIS special agent, working on important cases, figuring out complex crimes, going with his intuition and often finding himself to be right and putting criminals away – that was heady stuff.

Tony said, "I want to be like you."

Gibbs took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Shit, nobody had ever before said they wanted to be like him. Even so, Tony was smart and had good instincts. So long as he wasn't heading down this road out of some misguided sense of hero-worship or some other bullshit, he'd probably be fine. Gibbs had a strong feeling that he was going to spend an awful lot of time worrying about Tony in the years to come, especially if he went into law enforcement. "You're sure about this?" It was obvious but he had to ask.

Clearly relieved that it was out in the open, Tony said, "I already passed the Peoria Police Department's entrance exam. I start training at the police academy in September. My frat brother, Nate, he joined the Peoria PD last year, and after I realized I wasn't going to play pro ball, and I saw what he was doing…"

Tony talked about his career choice and the on-the-job experience that Peoria was offering, and Gibbs took it all in. The young man's spirit was invigorating but it made Tony appear so young. Or maybe, Gibbs thought, he was just feeling old in comparison. When he had been just a little older than Tony, he was married with a kid on the way, and had done a tour overseas with his unit, so why was he having concerns about Tony becoming a cop? Maybe it was his own version of parental concern, that responsibility he felt for Tony, kicking in. It was natural to worry, and just as natural for Tony to make his own way in the world. "It sounds like you've got it all worked out, Tony."

"You know that list of phone numbers you gave me, Gibbs? In case I had any problems when you were away?" He waited for Gibbs to nod and then said, "The week before I took the entry exam I called Dr. Mallard, because you weren't back yet from Bosnia. He was the only person I knew who was in the field, and I had to have a reference and…well, getting one from my father wasn't an option. I really needed to talk to someone and it couldn't wait and you weren't…"

Gibbs held up a hand to stem the flow of Tony's explanation. It sounded too much like an apology. "Hey, that's why I gave you his number. You did the right thing talking to Ducky."

When Gibbs had returned from overseas, Ducky had told him about the younger man's call. The ME had described Tony as being a fine young man, "and not quite so frivolous as he would lead one to believe," Ducky had said perceptively. Ducky had gone on to assert that, in his opinion, DiNozzo Sr. needed to be held accountable for what he'd done to the boy. "I had a long discussion with Anthony about his future, Jethro, and he seems to have a good head on his shoulders, although he does tend to go off on a tangent if he isn't reined in." Gibbs had stifled a laugh at that comment, especially coming from Ducky. "I suspect that with some discipline and guidance from an authority figure he'll mature quite nicely. If you want to know the particulars of our conversation, you will have to ask Anthony yourself," Ducky had said firmly. "I did promise him it would be confidential."

Gibbs had put off asking Tony about his talk with Ducky until they were face to face, and now he knew what it had been about. He only wished he could have been the one Tony had turned to for advice and assurance. Next time, he thought. "Dr. Mallard helped you sort things out?"

Tony nodded. "Yeah, he did. You've always been there for me, Gibbs, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. Just knowing you are there if I need anything makes all the difference. I asked Dr. Mallard not to tell you about it because I…I wanted to wait until I earned my badge and then I was going to show it to you."

"I'm looking forward to that day, Tony," Gibbs said with a smile, touched that Tony looked up to him.

Tony rubbed his eyebrow. "Only, once I got here I realized I couldn't keep it from you. I just wasn't sure how to bring it up, but I was going to tell you." Tony's eyes sought out reassurance from Gibbs. "So you think I can do this?"

"I think you can do whatever you put your mind to, Tony. Becoming a LEO might be a good fit for you. Thing is, there's a downside to law enforcement. Sure, you'll get the chance to catch some of the scumbags out there, to make a difference, but you'll see terrible things every day, some of 'em so bad they'll be imprinted in your brain forever. It can hit really close to home, screw you up bad. The stress of the job has messed up a lot of good cops whose only goal is to uphold the law, to do the right thing."

Tony shook his head, amused. "For a guy who supposedly can't communicate, you're doing pretty well, Jethro." After Gibbs smiled and shook his head in denial, Tony sat back in his lawn chair and looked up at the night sky. "It's about helping people, catching the bad guys, sure, but for me it's also about solving the puzzle. Understanding what makes people tick, getting into in the details of the crime, figuring out the how as well as the why. I've never put it into words before but this just feels right. Magnum says that dreams are a sort of a private movie you write, produce and direct. Well, this is my dream. Guess that doesn't make a whole lot of sense to you though."

Actually, it did make sense, even with the Magnum reference. "Yeah, I get it, Tony. You're the only person who can control your destiny." And Tony was used to making his own choices, sticking to his guns. If he'd been able to stand up to his damned asshole of a father all these years, he could handle anything. Tony was going to make a tenacious cop one day.

Tony grinned widely. "Yeah, that's it all right. You sure you haven't ever watched a Magnum episode, Jethro?"

"Nope, and I'm not going to." Gibbs believed in Tony, and that was a whole lot more than his father had ever done. Senior would eventually find out about his son's latest 'bad choice' and Gibbs was just as sure that Tony would weather the inevitable storm just fine.

Tony stretched and yawned. "I'm beat. Gonna turn in if that's okay." He rose to his feet and said, "By the way, Boss, I looked in your cupboards and unless you want to eat beans for dinner, how about I go food shopping while you're at work tomorrow?"

"What's wrong with beans?" At Tony's look of horror Gibbs smiled. "Just buy real food, Tony. Milk, eggs, meat, fruit. Get something green but not peas. And no sugary cereal."

"God, you sound like a parent, Gibbs," Tony said in disgust.

Gibbs snorted. "You can use my truck, but no hot-dogging. Think you can work on the boat on your own tomorrow? I'll join you at the marina after work if I can."

"You trust me, Gibbs?" Tony wasn't just talking about working on the boat.

Gibbs wondered who had deemed him the one responsible for Tony's welfare – not that he minded the job. In fact he realized that he enjoyed it. It was obvious Tony trusted him implicitly and Gibbs just hoped he wasn't going to let him down. "Yeah, I trust you, Tony. Just sand the hull, same as we did today, and then we'll start on the railings on deck. Tell you what, you can come in to work with me sometime this week. And we can get in some target practice at the range."

Tony's face lit up with pleasure. "Get the grand tour of NCIS? I can finally meet Ducky?"

Gibbs got to his feet and when Tony stood beside him Gibbs slung an arm around his shoulders. "Oh yeah," he said with a grin as they walked into the house. "The NCIS morgue is a real good place to start if you're gonna be an investigator, DiNozzo."

***–***

Before he turned off the bedside lamp Tony slipped a single folded piece of paper out of an envelope that had 'DiNozzo' written across it in Gibbs' handwriting. He puffed up his pillows behind his head and once again read the note that Gibbs had left for him. He'd memorized the message by now but he still liked to see the actual writing, seeking to unlock the mystery that was Leroy Jethro Gibbs in the spare words and curling script. It seemed strange that the ex-Marine would have such nice handwriting; block letters seemed to be more in sync with his character. On the back of the paper was a concise map drawn in pencil, showing the way to the marina.

Tony -

Bedroom upstairs at front of house is yours. Help yourself to food. Hands off the beer. Come to the marina. Map on back.

Ducky says to say hi.

Jethro

Tony smiled about Gibbs saying this bedroom was his. His for the rest of the month, anyway. His smile grew even wider at Gibbs signing his first name, Jethro. Nice of Dr. Mallard to send a greeting, too.

Gibbs hadn't asked why Tony had chosen to apply to the Peoria PD rather than to a federal agency or NCIS. Tony needed to do this on his own, without any hint of favoritism or undue influence. Contrary to most people's expectations, he did have a plan. It might not be the kind of plan that DiNozzo Sr. would approve of, but it was Tony's plan and he liked it.

Peoria was a good place to learn the basics and he'd liked the no-nonsense superintendent of the police force, who he had met as part of the interview process. The PPD was expanding their detective division and they worked closely with the police forces of the three major cities within a two-hour drive. And what was best was that so long as Tony passed the training with high marks, he was assured a spot in the criminal investigations division. He would make Gibbs proud of him if it were the last thing he ever did. Detective Anthony DiNozzo. He smiled to himself.

After putting the note away safely, Tony turned off the light and settled down in the single bed. He went to sleep with a warm feeling in his heart and a smile on his face, all because one man – his bodyguard, his friend, his mentor – had opened his home and his heart to him.

***–*** end ***–***