AN: not as cheerful as my recent stories.

Special Agent Jethro Gibbs was sanding a piece of wood in his basement. The hard work of shaping and cutting was done and he was now in his favourite stage, the smoothing and perfecting. As he stroked the plane over the timber he pictured the blade removing the blemishes and knots and, in something approaching a meditative state, imagined the stresses and strains of life also being sanded away. Gibbs would probably have rejected this analysis but he couldn't deny that he usually found himself more at peace after a session in the basement.

His ears pricked up as he heard someone moving about upstairs but he didn't stop his repetitive movements but simply waited to see who was visiting.

"Boss."

Gibbs nodded his head slightly as he saw Tony DiNozzo padding down the stairs. He noted that DiNozzo was still wearing his suit suggesting that he'd come straight from work. Once upon a time, Gibbs would have been able to work out the significance of this. DiNozzo would sometimes go home, change into something more comfortable and then visit his Boss, suggesting that the visit was something pleasurable and not to be rushed. A visit in business clothes usually meant something work related, perhaps a break in a case after Gibbs had left the office in order to do some quality thinking in his basement. On this particular night, however, there was no open case and it had been a long time since Tony had hunted the Boss out in his lair so Gibbs found himself at a slight loss.

Tony remained silent after his opening remark so Gibbs considered what to do next. Tony often brought a bottle of bourbon with him but his hands were empty this time. So, Gibbs thought, probably not a social call. Gibbs waited, Tony could usually be relied on to be the first to break a silence. He didn't disappoint and Gibbs cracked a half smile as Tony spoke,

"Always thought you look kinda peaceful doing that, Boss," he said.

Gibbs shrugged, "Dad used to say. 'Devil finds work for idle hands to do.'"

"Guess that's why I play Tetris," said Tony.

Gibbs gazed emotionlessly at Tony; not sure if playing a computer game counted as the devil's work or if Tony thought he was keeping the devil at work by playing one. Gibbs had his own opinion but didn't think it was worth arguing about.

Tony could guess what Gibbs thought but knew that Gibbs wouldn't bother to have a discussion on the subject. DiNozzo was never sure whether it was restful having a Boss who was so sure of the rightness of his views that he never discussed them or whether it was irritating that Gibbs didn't think it was worth talking about them. He guessed it was a symptom of the way that Gibbs didn't seem to need anybody, didn't need human interaction to stimulate him. In some ways, perhaps many ways, Tony was the opposite of Gibbs and the need for talking was one of those ways. Tony needed to think out loud whereas Gibbs internalised everything before suddenly producing the moment of insight.

"Finished with the shrink," said Tony.

"Ah," said Gibbs, as he realised the reason for the visit.

The team had just completed a particularly harrowing case. Director Vance had been closely involved and had, as a result of his own disturbed feelings, stipulated that all the agents involved should submit to a psych evaluation before returning to duty. Gibbs' appointment was scheduled for the next day but he just planned to do his usual bland staring match with the unfortunate psychologist before being passed fit.

Tony fidgeted with a wrench on Gibbs' work bench but didn't say anything. Gibbs feared for the safety of the tool so reached across and took it from Tony's hand and placed it firmly out of his reach.

"Got the paperwork?" Gibbs asked. Tony had never yet failed one of these evaluations. His technique might be the polar opposite of Gibbs' but it was equally effective even if his prolonged chatter meant that his interviews tended to last longer than Gibbs'.

"It was Dr Kates Sister this time," said Tony in reply.

Gibbs relaxed a little and quirked a small smile that Tony still gave her that name. Gibbs had come to approve of Dr Cranston and he trusted her to understand Tony's foibles. While it was true that Tony had never actually failed one of these evaluations, Gibbs still remembered an unfortunate occasion when Tony had miscalculated the verboseness. The doctor had thought that DiNozzo was unable to stop talking due to some sort of nervous trauma and had been on the brink of ordering further tests. Fortunately, Gibbs had got wind of the situation and had managed to waylay Tony, administer a head slap and a 'stop fooling around' reprimand. Cue a miraculous 'recovery' and a DiNozzo explanation to the doctor that he had drunk too many of Abby's CafPows leading to a caffeine high.

"Huh," said Gibbs in acknowledgement. He carried on planing and then suppressed a curse as he hit a previously unseen knot in the wood. He looked up in irritation, "What you here for, DiNozzo?" he asked.

"The Doc had a new technique," said Tony, apparently still unable to come to the point.

Gibbs sighed and laid down his plane. It seemed that he was going to have to excavate it out from Tony.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Had to imagine myself as an object, a thing," said Tony.

"What?"

"She said it was a way of finding out how I really felt about myself."

"Humph. Makes a change from ink blots, I suppose," said Gibbs.

"I like those ink blots," said Tony in a slightly more cheerful tone, "although the doctors always say that nobody else has ever seen what I see in them."

Gibbs huffed a small laugh; he had heard Tony's ink blot theories before and they were certainly 'interesting'.

"So, what sort of 'object' are you?" Gibbs asked, waiting to be entertained.

"A pair of Ferragamo loafers," said Tony.

"Shoulda guessed," said Gibbs, "she pass you?"

Tony ignored the question, "although really," he said, "I think you see me as a pair of Ferragamo loafers."

"DiNozzo," said Gibbs impatiently, "I don't even know what a pair of Fairygamble shoes is. So I can't picture you as a pair of them."

"Ferragamo, Boss, Ferragamo," corrected Tony.

"Whatever."

"And that's sort of the problem."

"What is?" asked Gibbs, looking yearningly at his plane.

"Ferragamo shoes are Italian," said Tony, "very expensive."

"So, I need to work out what type of shoe I am before I see the doc tomorrow?" asked Gibbs, "'cos, somehow I don't think that's going to happen."

"No," said Tony, "besides you'd be some sort of tough old work boot. No mystery there."

"I had a pair of green suede shoes once," said Gibbs unexpectedly, feeling a need to show that he wasn't always predictable.

"Really?" said Tony, distracted by this insight into the sartorial habits of his Boss.

"Yeah," said Gibbs, "dyed them black though."

"Figures," said Tony, "But no, I didn't come here to tell you to start thinking what sort of footwear you are."

"Why did you come?"

"You know why I pictured myself as a pair of Ferragamos?" asked Tony.

"I told you. I don't even know what they are, so how could I know?"

"Not a new pair," mused Tony, "and I guess that's part of the problem."

"Problem?" asked Gibbs.

"Not a new model," said Tony, "been around for a few seasons."

"We've all been around for a few years," offered Gibbs, thinking that Tony was having one of his periodic fits of panic that he was moving into middle age.

"Bit battered," continued Tony.

"That's life, DiNozzo," said Gibbs briskly. He slapped him on the shoulder in an encouraging way, "Go on. Go get some sleep. Things'll look better in the morning."

Tony didn't move. "Like I said, I think it's you who see me as Ferragamos."

Gibbs opened his lips to deny this possibility again but stopped. Somehow, he thought this might be important and he also didn't want to run the risk of incurring Rachel's wrath if he inadvertently undid her work. "Explain," he said.

"I think," said Tony thoughtfully, "that you're like the guy who's been suckered into buying a pair of expensive Italian shoes and then regrets it. If I'd known about the green suede shoes I might have pictured myself as those."

"What?" asked Gibbs.

"So," continued Tony, "you get these Italian shoes. And it's out of character. And you begin to wonder whether you've done the right thing. But you're defiant to start with. 'Cos nobody tells you what to do. And anyway, you don't make mistakes. And so you try to get used to them." Tony stopped and gazed at Gibbs.

Gibbs stared back. He still didn't understand what Tony was getting at but, for some reason, he remembered that, when he had first hired Tony, he had often invited him down to the basement and handed him a block of sandpaper. It had partly been a way of trying to get to know him better, partly a way of trying to introduce him to the calming benefits of woodwork and partly, he guessed, a way of trying to change his new co-worker, to make him more like himself. Somehow, however, as the team expanded, he'd lost sight of Tony as his project and the basement visits had become less frequent.

"So you're stuck with these shoes," said Tony finally, "but you don't like them and they're a constant reminder that you made a mistake."

"DiNozzo," said Gibbs as he began to realise where Tony was going with all this, "I don't think hiring you was a mistake."

"You sure about that, Boss?" asked Tony, "'Cos it sure feels that way."

"You wouldn't still be on my team if I thought you were a mistake," said Gibbs firmly.

"Didn't fight much to get me back from Agent Afloat, did you?" said Tony.

Gibbs sighed, knowing that this was an old hurt. "DiNozzo, that was years ago," he said curtly.

Tony shrugged. "I remember when I was a kid, when my parents made me wear something I didn't like, I tried to wear it out. You know, try to tear it, spill things on it, roll in the dirt."

"DiNozzo," breathed Gibbs, shocked at last as he saw the depth of disillusionment in Tony's eyes.

"That's what it feels like, Gibbs. A mistake you regret and don't have the courage to get rid of."

Gibbs took a moment to curse Dr Cranston's new technique as he tried to work out how to deal with his agent. "DiNozzo. I don't think you're a mistake. You're a good agent."

"I know I am, Boss," said Tony. "Ferragamo shoes are top of the range. Some of the best you can get."

"There you go, then," said Gibbs.

"But they need looking after," said Tony, "you know, polishing, repairs. You can't keep knocking them about."

"You know I don't do touchy feely stuff," said Gibbs recoiling at the idea of cossetting Tony.

"No," agreed Tony, "Unless it's Bishop. Or Abby. Or Ziva. Or Tim going through a bad patch. Or the Director. Or …"

"You're jealous of your co-workers?" asked Gibbs.

"Just saying, Boss. I'd say it was because I'm your second in command and you expect more of me."

"I do," agreed Gibbs.

"But there's not much evidence of you treating me as your deputy," said Tony, "all the kicks and none of the halfpence as Uncle Clive used to say."

Gibbs shook his head in bewilderment. "What does that mean? What you want me to say, DiNozzo?"

"Say?" said Tony, "Nothing. I know talking's not your thing."

"No," said Gibbs in relief.

"Doing's your thing."

"Then what you want me to do?"

"Ah," said Tony sadly, "nothing that I think you will do."

"Then what's this been about?" asked Gibbs exasperatedly, "If you won't tell me what you want?"

"I just came to tell you that Dr Kates Sister has signed me off," said Tony.

"OK," said Gibbs cautiously.

"And to say that she helped."

"How?" said Gibbs doubtfully.

"I remembered that Ferragamo shoes are good. Hard wearing, never go out of style, always look smart. That they fit in most places. That they're valuable. Worth something."

"Good?" said Gibbs cautiously.

"Yes. Good," agreed Tony.

"We good?" said Gibbs.

"Well, I am," said Tony, "and I'm going to hold on to that." He turned to go but Gibbs spoke again,

"Tony."

"Yes, Boss?"

"I may not understand about Fairygamble shoes but I know about quality."

"Yes, Boss."

"And perhaps I've been treating my best shoes like old slippers."

"Boss?"

"'Cos they're comfortable. A good fit."

"Yes?"

"And I don't want to lose them 'cos I don't know where I'd find another pair."

"Irreplaceable?" said Tony with a twinkle in his eye as he remembered an old (failed) joke.

"Yes," said Gibbs firmly.

"Thanks, Boss."

"Night, Tony."

"Night, Boss. Green suede shoes, eh?"

"DiNozzo!" said Gibbs warningly.

"Lips are sealed, Boss." And he was gone.

Gibbs turned back to his work and frowned. Perhaps this project needed more care and attention than he'd realised. And then he thought of another project that he'd lost sight of; of something he'd forgotten the importance of and might be in danger of losing. Perhaps it was time to look at things again, to remember the importance of a long ago day in Baltimore when he'd come up with the new rule of 'don't waste good'.

And then he smiled as he thought how surprised Dr Kates Sister would be the next day when he entered enthusiastically into deciding what sort of 'thing' he was.

They're back in their NCIS box - hopefully a little older and a little wiser.