Thank you for all your reviews, favorites and follows: I'm working on the next chap of Cabin Fever, but a funny thing happened that has sort of left me dangling – the actual shows' plot fell apart when Ms. De Pablo decided to exit, so I too lost my way with where I was going to go with the story. I'll figure out how to wrap it up somehow. It may not be flattering to Ziva.

Also, I guess this fic isn't very flattering to Gibbs or McGee so far, but it's not an intentional bash and things will improve with them all, but who doesn't get tired of Boss Gibbs lecturing Tony and trying to run his personal life and then shutting him out of his own? Not beta'd - all boo boos are mine.

Surprisingly, neither Gibbs nor McGee mentioned the 'unmentionable' for the remainder of the workday. They were, however, chillier than usual to him. Well, that was their problem, Tony decided. Just because he had made a choice to man up and do something they considered unmanly didn't make him any less so. It was a lesson he had learned the hard way when he was not even a teenager, but something he had let himself forget over the years.

A very astute camp counselor had pulled him aside one summer afternoon after a traumatic encounter with some less than kind fellow campers, and had taken the time to talk things through with him. What others thought of him was not who he was, she had told him, it was their image of him, their warped view, just as he sometimes had the wrong impression of others. Even though he was gifted with being able to read body language and facial expressions at an early age, he sometimes was overwhelmed with the speed at which he needed to read them all – mostly out of sheer self defense – and at times misread people's intentions for good or bad. Too many people, too much information. He was better with one on one, although he improved as he got older and more confident and experienced.

But he had never forgotten his conversation with her, or her quiet encouragement of him, when she had put that life-changing thought in his head. It wasn't always him with the problem or deficiency, it was how the other person was perceiving him. Like Einstein's theory of relativity. It was all relative to the way the person saw their own lives, perceived their own surroundings – it very often had little to do with the person he actually was, and more to do with their personal views and prejudices.

He ran this through his brain again as he plodded through paperwork and agency emails, and it helped him in tuning out the bad vibes he seemed to be getting from Gibbs and McGee. Well, they were his boss and team mate, he was doing his job, not creating any undue stress for McGoo, they had nothing to complain about. Then he remembered another quote that his own mother had enjoyed telling him, from Eleanor Roosevelt, whom she greatly admired. Something along the lines of how 'you would worry a lot less about what people thought of you if you only realized how little they did' – and decided that was an even better course of action. He was getting the feeling that perhaps what he was perceiving as chilliness by them could well be their own self-dialogue about change and talking out the issues that kept them where they were.

He knew that McGee had been able to channel a lot of his angst into his books, but now that they had fallen by the wayside, what other outlet did he have? And Gibbs, well, there was no channeling for that man outside of woodworking and booze, a manly man's way of dealing with what ailed him, if he admitted to anything ailing him in the first place. It had always been Tony coming to him with a problem, admitting to him that he wasn't sure what he was doing at the moment was right. Never Gibbs telling him he'd effed up, made the wrong choice, trusted the wrong source. It wasn't in the man's DNA. But that didn't make it right, or even a good thing. Hell, Gibbs himself had told Tony once in no uncertain terms to learn from the mistakes Gibbs had made, not to repeat them. Tony considered this a learning curve, even if Gibbs wouldn't.

He took a well-earned break to make a few notes in his small personal journal, gathering some of the exploding and wandering thoughts he'd been having since his conversation with Gibbs in the men's room. Just writing them down felt empowering, as if they made more sense and carried more weight seeing them in print. He wouldn't resolve them all in one night, he didn't even think some of them were even resolvable, but he could pretty much bet that the ones with no resolution could at least be made more manageable. What more could he ask for? For this task he knew he was being watched, he could feel the eyes on him as surely as he hated hypodermic needles. Gibbs. He was the only one who could see what Tony was doing. But Tony kept on writing determinedly. Somehow he knew in his gut that this would all help Gibbs as much as it would help him.

With little happening case-wise other than catching up on reports and fielding inter-office memos and emails, Gibbs called the end of the work day at its normal hour of 17:00, something they rarely enjoyed. He stopped at Tony's desk on the way out and waited for the younger man to acknowledge him.

"Yes, Boss." DiNozzo responded to his presence without looking up from shutting down his computer.

"What happened in the head this morning – shouldn't have. None of my business what you do in your off-time. None of McGee's business to think it's okay to betray a confidence, even if you didn't tell him not to. He knows better. Just being juvenile, even though he thinks you're the only one who behaves that way."

"Now you see my reason for doing what I'm doing. Can't go to him with anything deeper than the fact I'm taking the bus into work, he can't wait to sink his teeth into my soft underbelly and then invite the rest of the pack for lunch. Just the way it's always been, Boss. Don't think he even realizes he's doing it, just habit for him after me picking on him for so many years. That and his never-ending need to make me look bad in your eyes, but again, yet another reason for needing outside intervention."

"I haven't been much help to you the past few years, either, I guess."

Tony turned and looked the man in the eye. He needed to be able to say these things face to face with Gibbs. He kept his voice quiet when he answered.

"I know you're wanting me to say, 'hell no, Boss, whenever I've really needed you you've come through for me', but I'm not gonna lie or even stretch the truth about that stuff anymore. Truth is, no, you haven't been much help to me for stuff like that the past, well, like seven or eight years. You used to when – before we – lost Kate. Then it's like you just – shut down and shut me out. Then Mexico happened and well, the fall out from that summer has never really blown over for me. I just – stuffed it away, along with all the other shit that's gone on between us since then. I can't stuff it anymore, Boss.

If you can't listen to what I need to say, I need to say it to someone who can, and not a shrink. Someone who can relate to what I'm going through and give me some honest advice, not some head game crap about learning my place on a team and dealing with authority figures. I used to fall for that shit, but not anymore. And you know I think the world of you, Boss, but you just don't have it in you to give back what I need when it comes to the rubber hitting the road stuff. We can talk about cases, we can talk about women, we can talk about cars and boats. But I need more than that, have for a long time. And you and Tim just aren't there for me for that."

"You were the one who first called me a functional mute, DiNozzo." Gibbs countered a bit defensively.

"Yes, yes I was, and it was my bad for thinking that that would change; that would be like you thinking you could get me to shut up once I got used to you and the job. Just the way we're wired. I just wasn't counting on being so isolated from my frat buddies – they've mostly moved on, gotten married, have kids now – don't have the time they used to to care and share. 'Bout the only one outside of work I have to talk to is – well, the – well, lots of people, just not someone who understands my job and my – the things I've been through. And when I've tried to get serious and talk about serious stuff with you guys – well, you tune me out or yell at me, and McGee either makes fun of me or uses it as a weapon against me."

"He doesn't know what to do when you go off sides. He counts on you to be a straight shot into the end zone."

"See, that's the thing. You guys want me to change but you really don't. But maybe it depends on the day. Thing is, I can't tell anymore, and I don't care anymore. I've given a hundred and ten percent to this team since day one. There have been times when I know I've crossed the line sometimes with my pranks and hazing, but I never went for the jugular, I never – did anything out of just plain meanness or spite, like Kate and Abby with that photo shopped gay picture they were gonna blackmail me with."

"Christ, Tony, that was what, eight, nine years ago or more and you still haven't let that go?"

"Yeah. Funny thing, that. McGee still rakes me over the coals for a time when I told some of the gals he was gay. Reminds me of every damned thing I ever did to him, I'm pretty sure he has them cataloged on a disk somewhere. Even used some in his novels. Ziva never let me forget that I wasn't you, or Mossad, or anything other than a glorified cop. And yet whenever I brought up anything hurtful they'd said, or done, they were all over me like flies on cowshit for being a whiny bitch. You see, if I change, if I behave like who I'm supposed to be, who I really am – it pisses people off cause they don't have any ammunition to use against me anymore. I'm playing fair, and you guys just can't handle it, 'cause then you all have to play fair, too. You like me better when I'm an idiot 'cause that makes you all look that much better and it's not so hard getting your digs in. Correct me if I'm wrong. And it's not just you and McGee, or Ziva when she was here. It's anyone who deals with me at work anymore – Toothpick, Sacks, the list goes on."

"You started it, DiNozzo. You came to us like this, all smart mouth and yabba, it was your schtick."

"Keyword, there, Boss. Was. My schtick. McGee came to us stuttering and puking and shaking in his shoes when you looked at him wrong. He worked hard and learned and took some hits and he's not a probie anymore, and no one expects him to act like one. So why does everyone expect me to keep acting like the guy I was ten years ago? I may like to have some fun, lighten the mood, but that doesn't mean I can't be serious about my job, or that I'm so self-absorbed I don't know what's going on with the people around me. And just because I join a men's support group doesn't make me weak, or a whiner. I don't want to stay how I am, Boss. It may be a comfort zone for you guys, but for me it's a rut. A big, freaking pothole. And there've been too many changes and too much shit dumped on my head in my life to just sit around and do nothing. I can't do role-playing games every night on my computer like McGee, and I can't hide out in my basement every night with booze and woodworking. It just doesn't work for me. With the support group guys I can play basketball and poker and pool, or not do anything, just sit around and talk. There are other cops there, other feds, guys from all sorts of backgrounds.

"I like it, Boss. It's better than therapy, and it's free. And even though the entire world probably knows by now that I joined, thanks to McMotormouth, it's still nobody's business, not even yours. And I won't let either one of you, or anyone else, try to make me feel less of a man for going. I'm not strong enough to keep holding the world on my shoulders, I admit it. That old saying about what doesn't kill you makes you stronger is a load of crap, it makes you bitter and brittle. And knowing that doesn't make me weak. It just means I realized I don't have to carry it all by myself anymore."

Tony picked up his back pack and swung it over his shoulder, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair with his other hand while Gibbs waited for him. He wasn't sure what the man was going to say, but he couldn't change the way his boss thought of him, and he was exhausted from trying.

"See you in the morning, Boss. Have a good night."

"Tony.."

Gibbs' voice held enough softness in it to entice Tony to stop and turn around to answer the man.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"I wish I could be what you want me to be – what you need me to be. You know better than anybody that I have a hard time just being around myself – I don't have the answers you're looking for, if I did, I wouldn't have paid alimony to three different wives. I've learned to just make the best of my life by being the best I can be at my job, anything outside of that is a bonus. That doesn't mean you don't rate, it just means I'm lousy at being a friend, and for that, I'm sorry. So don't ever think I wouldn't go to the ends of the earth for you, cause I would. You're family, just like Abby, and Ziva, and Tim. I know I haven't made it easy for you being my SFA, and I've let too many things go unsaid that I shouldn't have, regardless of being a functional mute. But you know I've got your six, even though I've done some stupid things that might make you think otherwise. I'm glad you found a way to deal. Maybe if I'd done something like that years back I wouldn't have screwed up my life so bad. Guess we'll never know now. Anyways, I won't rag on you about it, and I'll make sure no one else does, either, including McGee. Hell, it wouldn't hurt him to get out from behind his damned computer for a while and try something new. Have a good night, DiNozzo."

Gibbs turned to walk away, but not before catching the cheeky grin on his second's face.

"Now what?"

"Nothing. Just thinking that that's more than you've said to me in one go since I've known you. And that we've just spent ten minutes talking about stuff that you just said you didn't have the answers for. They were pretty good answers, Boss. Thanks. I'll take what I can get when I can get it. See you in the morning."

They left the bullpen side by side, both a little sad, and yet happy to have some resolution, even if it wasn't really. It was the best they could do for now and it would have to do for both of them.