About a Week Later, Georgetown, Washington DC

McGee climbed back down the stepladder and took several paces back to see if the banner he'd just finished hanging was even. He'd tried tying it to the balusters of the staircase, but Abby had nixed that as too likely to leave it off center and uneven. He gauged the ends and the length of it. Since the staircase took sharp bends at each end of the banner, it was a little hard to be absolutely certain it was properly set. It appeared to be even to his untutored – read male – eyes. Abby would, of course, be the final judge. Personally, he thought they might just be overstepping their bounds a little in setting this up, but Abby's confidence would not be gainsaid.

"Perfect, Timmy," she announced from the door to the dining room, her voice making him jerk around with surprise. He'd thought she was in the kitchen, from which he could still hear the sounds of industrious activity.

"Are you sure they won't mind?" McGee asked. "Tony's bound to be tired and kind of loopy. He may not want company."

"We're not company, McGee, we're family," Abby replied stoutly. "Now, start hanging streamers."

McGee did as he was told, reflecting that Tony would make fun of him if he were here. "Who's in the kitchen?" he asked. So far as he knew, she'd only managed to rope him into helping with this insane party.

"Ziva finally got here," Abby said. "She's doing the real cooking, I just did some prep work for her. Now I'm free to supervise the decorations."

Which meant, McGee reflected as he moved the ladder to yet another spot that she pointed an imperious finger at, that she was free to boss him around. He hadn't even gotten a look at the upper floor yet. He'd only seen the kitchen because Abby had condescended to feed him after conning him into going to pick up – and pay for – this banner she'd ordered.

"Don't you think Jeanne's going to feel a little left out?" McGee asked, glancing at the banner again. It read Welcome Home Tony!

"Why would she?" Abby asked blankly. McGee considered explaining it, but then he just shrugged. It was Abby. Jeanne would undoubtedly get used to her.

"What are we all going to sit on?" McGee asked hesitantly. When Abby got like this, it could be dangerous to ask questions, but the house was sparsely furnished.

"Jimmy's bringing some folding chairs from Ducky's place," Abby said nonchalantly. "And I've got a couple of card tables in the car."

"Why is there so little furniture anyway? I thought Fornell had released Tony's apartment days ago."

"He did," Abby said, tweaking some of the streamers McGee had hung to make them meet some unknowable criteria of her own. "But Tony doesn't want all of his stuff back because . . . well, you know."

"Right," McGee said. He hadn't considered that aspect.

"And Jeanne used to live in a one-bedroom apartment," Abby added. "So her stuff isn't even half enough to fill the downstairs. I set up a bedroom for them in what I think is actually the dining room –"

"You set up the bedroom?" McGee asked. "Why you?"

"Because Jeanne asked me to," Abby said. "She gave me the keys yesterday so I could get some basic living arrangements put together and stock the kitchen."

"Did she ask for a welcome home party?"

"No, but they'll both be glad to see us all."

"The director?" McGee asked dubiously. Given that she'd invited the whole team, plus Ducky and Palmer, he wasn't sure how Abby could have avoided inviting Director Shepard, and somehow he thought that putting Jeanne and the director in the same room would be awkward, at best.

"She had a meeting she couldn't get out of," Abby replied airily.

"On a Sunday?" McGee asked, and Abby just raised her eyebrows. "Okay. So, you just took advantage of Jeanne asking you to do her a favor to set up this party."

"Yup," Abby said unrepentantly. "I'd better check on the bedroom and the bathroom, see if I've forgotten anything."

"Is there a full bathroom downstairs?" McGee asked.

"No, just a half bath, but he's not supposed to take baths or showers for a few days yet anyway," Abby said. "And I'm sure he can manage a sponge bath in the kitchen."

"Or she can," McGee said without thinking, and Abby giggled. McGee flushed and decided not to explain that he hadn't meant anything sexual by it. Abby wouldn't believe him, and he wasn't altogether certain she should.

Abby disappeared, and McGee put the roll of streamers down on the ladder and decided to explore. He went up the stairs to look around. The upstairs hall was paneled in the same, fine, honey-colored wood as the entryway. He began sticking his head into rooms to see what they looked like. Trust Tony to pull a plum like this. A colonial row house in Georgetown. The man either had no luck at all or he had all the luck. McGee snorted. With Jeanne he seemed to have had both at different times. The bathrooms were obviously additions, but they'd been done gracefully, so that they didn't disturb the arrangement of the rooms or do weird things to the windows.

The rooms were empty and echoing, and McGee couldn't imagine filling them all. Every room had its own fireplace, all on inside walls to share chimneys. He began writing in his head, his mind automatically seeking to place this house – this good fortune – into his own world. On the other hand, he'd need to balance that good fortune with bad, and there was no way he was writing about Brody Harris with Agent Tommy, or anything even similar. Not only would Tony never forgive him, but Ziva and Gibbs might just kill him. He'd have to come up with some other evil to befall Agent Tommy.

So musing, he opened the last door on the hall. It revealed a pretty little room with built-in shelves along one wall and sprigged wall paper. There was something tiny and flat propped up on one of the shelves, and McGee walked into the room to peer at it. He blinked. It was a wallet-size picture of Tony and Jeanne. He wondered whose wallet it had come from. Sitting there, in that room, it looked a little silly.

Shoes came clumping down the hall, and he turned around to find Abby bearing down on him. "Gone UA, I see, Timmy."

"I just wanted a look around. God knows when we'll ever be back here. Tony isn't known for his frequent invitations."

Abby rolled her eyes. "Tony's more of a 'go out and party' kind of guy, but I have a feeling there's going to be more invitations now."

"Jeanne?"

"Yeah," Abby said. She stepped into the room and looked around. "This is pretty," she remarked, then returned to the main thread of her discourse. "Jeanne's a lot more –" She broke off, staring. "Oh my God, how sweet!" She clumped daintily across to the photo and put her hands on the shelf, resting her chin on them to gaze at it. "And it's even the picture I chose."

"What do you mean?" McGee asked.

"Come downstairs. I'll show you." She grabbed his hand and dragged him down the steps and through the dining room door. The room was square and there was a bed opposite the fireplace. Above the fireplace there was a framed picture, an enlarged copy of the photograph from upstairs. Abby'd always enlarged very tiny images, so he didn't doubt she'd had no difficulty with this one. In fact, she'd enhanced it to look like a painting, no doubt to cover the pixilation that such a large version of the image was bound to create.

"Where'd you get that?"

"I have my ways," Abby said mysteriously, which meant she'd scrounged around for it somewhere.

"Abby, don't you think Tony's going to freak out that you have a photo of him that he didn't give you?" McGee asked.

Abby blinked at him. "Why?"

"He's been being stalked, Abby. You know, photographs and stuff."

"I know, Timmy," she said. "It's not the same. Get back to work."

Tony had his head resting against the seat, his eyes closed. It was nice to be leaving the hospital, and he was just as glad not to be going back to the hotel. He didn't know what he'd find when they got to the house, but if Jeanne had organized it, he was sure he'd be fine with it. He turned his head and gazed at her, driving competently through the busy streets.

"Have I told you lately how much I love you?" he asked.

She glanced over at him, her eyes warm with affection. "You have. Once or twice," she said.

"Good. I'm not used to saying it, so I'm glad I'm saying it enough." Whatever the hell the pain meds were, they were making him say strange things again. That was another good thing about getting out of the hospital. A measure of privacy for when he started spouting stupid crap. He rolled his head forward and saw that they were getting close to the street they now lived on. He could see the Exorcist stairs, or at least the opening that led to them, down the block. She turned earlier than he expected, on the street instead of into the alley behind the houses. "Jeanne, where are you going?"

"I don't want you to have to walk all the way through the backyard," she said. "So I'm pulling around front."

"Oh. That's not necessary. I can walk."

"I know, but . . . humor me."

Tony nodded. He saw the red brick exteriors going by, and then he saw something he really hadn't expected. "Is that Gibbs?" he asked, shifting slightly and hissing a little at the minor pain the movement caused.

"You know, I think it is," Jeanne said in a tone of voice that told him clearly that she'd been expecting Gibbs even if he hadn't. She pulled over to the side of the road, and Gibbs came out from between two cars.

He opened the door on Tony's side and leaned down. "Leave the keys. I'll park it out back while you get him inside."

"Thank you, Jethro," Jeanne said, and she got out, leaving engine going with the car in neutral and the parking brake on.

Tony looked up at Gibbs. "When'd you start that up?"

"Start what, DiNozzo?"

"The first name thing?"

Gibbs gave him one of those exasperated looks. "Does it matter?"

Tony shrugged and nodded at him to take a step back. He got out of the car slowly. Jeanne slipped past Gibbs and put her arm around him to help him stand. Tony gave Gibbs a helpless look. He didn't really need help standing, but Jeanne was stubborn.

"So, have you been back here to put things together?" Tony asked.

"I asked Abby to do it for me," Jeanne replied.

The car gunned away at that moment, or Tony might have turned around to get back in. as it was, he paused and gave Jeanne an alarmed look. "Abby? You put Abby in charge of putting the house together?"

"Sure," Jeanne said. "What's the problem? I'm sure she did a good job."

Tony looked up at the door and sighed. "I'm certain she did a superlative job. Let's get in there so she can have her fun."

Climbing stairs wasn't too bad. He didn't want to be running up and down them every five minutes, but Jeanne was making an unnecessary production out of the process. He didn't mind having her arm around him, but he felt enough like an invalid. He didn't need any additional help.

"If Abby's here," he said, reaching towards the doorknob, "then I'm assuming she's inside and the door should be unlocked."

"So I understand. I hope you don't mind, she said she'd like to see you when you get home."

Tony turned the knob and gave the door a gentle push, prepared for just about anything.

Jeanne stared into the front hall, which had been bedecked with red, white and blue streamers, and brightly colored helium balloons that had been let go in clumps and tied to the balusters of the stairs. A banner hung from the staircase. The message, "Welcome Home Tony!" made her grin. The room also seemed filled with people, more than just Abby. She was beginning to get a feeling for what Tony had meant about Abby doing a 'superlative' job on the house.

Next to her, the subject of the banner snorted. "I guess you're chopped liver," he murmured to her.

"Hush," Jeanne said, and she started to step forward.

Tony caught her arm. "Shouldn't I be carrying you over the threshold?" he asked plaintively, and she looked up into his eyes. It was the drugs and his randomly firing neurons that were talking, not Tony.

Reaching up, she cupped his cheek in her hand. "That's only for weddings," she said softly.

"Right, and we haven't done that yet," he murmured. She gave him a fond look and drew him into the front hall.

It felt like a triumph, coming home to his chosen family with the woman he loved beside him. When they got inside, they were immediately surrounded, but predictably, it was Abby who reached him first. She rushed up, then stopped dead and gave him a careful hug, like she was afraid he was going to break. He squeezed back tightly, and her surprise made her squeak. She looked up searchingly into his face, and, seeming satisfied, grabbed his hand and Jeanne's, leading them into one of the front rooms. Card tables covered with bright cloths stood in a loose grouping surrounded by wooden folding chairs that Tony thought he recognized from Ducky's house. They all had balloons tied to the backs, and there were scattered clusters of anti-gravity balloons around the room. People sort of spread out as they couldn't in the smaller front hall, McGee, Ziva, Jimmy, Ducky and even Brad. Gibbs walked in amid the greetings, catching Jeanne's eye and dangling the car keys. Jeanne walked over and claimed them while Tony shook hands all around.

"Oh, let me get your stuff out of the way," Abby exclaimed suddenly, taking Jeanne's purse and waiting impatiently for Tony to take off the jacket Jeanne had insisted he put on 'to guard against the chill' of the sunny spring day. Everyone seemed a little paranoid about his health. It wasn't like he hadn't been shot before, though he supposed Jeanne had never experienced it.

Abby and Jeanne guided him carefully to a chair that was different from all the others. It looked like the captain's chair from Ducky's dining room set. Padded and comfortable, it was a suitable seat for an invalid. Tony balked. "This is goofy," he said. "I'm fine. I can sit in whatever chair everyone else is sitting in."

"Maybe you can," Jeanne said soothingly. "But you're not going to."

Unfortunately, that statement came at a general lull in the conversations, so everyone heard it and fell silent. Feeling awkward, Tony settled down, glancing around at his team. Jeanne's hyper-anxiety seemed to be catching, because they all looked worried. Or maybe it was just that she was a doctor, and thus should know if he needed cosseting.

Just as he realized that the one face he wasn't seeing looking at him anxiously was Gibbs, the man himself walked in carrying two bottles of beer, both open. He walked straight up to Tony, his expression as inscrutable as ever. "You want a beer, DiNozzo?" he asked.

Jeanne made an odd, half-formed gesture, but Tony had asked the doctors at the hospital about alcohol with his current regime of medications, and they had told him to go easy but that there was no need to completely avoid it. He grinned up at Gibbs and took the bottle. "Thanks, Boss," he said. He had to dispel this air of solemn worry. Thinking quickly, he turned and looked up at Jeanne. "Maybe you can tell me why hospitals don't seem to consider beer a clear liquid," he remarked, waving the bottle around to illustrate his point. "It's clear and it's liquid."

As an ice breaker, it was a winner. Everyone started talking at once because it seemed everyone had an opinion. Ziva and Abby disappeared for a few moments, then they brought out trays of food. Tony gazed lustily at it. "Who did the cooking?" he asked.

"I did," Ziva said.

Tony grinned broadly and grabbed himself a cheesy-mushroomy looking thing. "Jeanne, Ziva cooks like a dream. You wouldn't think it was her kind of thing, you know, all girly and stuff, but she's amazing."

"You are more gourmand than gourmet, Tony," Ziva said, her tone slightly acerbic. "So I am not sure how you would know."

"Oh, that hurts," Tony said, clutching at his chest.

"What hurts?" Abby asked, leaning towards him.

"Ziva's sharp remark," Tony said, giving her a sardonic look. "You know, they let me leave the hospital for a reason, Abby. I'm fine. Just a nifty little scar to show my grandkids and brag about. I don't suppose anyone brought any music."

"Actually, I did," McGee said. "I have my iPod and some speakers."

Tony's eyes widened, and he looked around a little desperately. "Anyone else?"

"Actually, I brought an iPod of stuff you like," Abby said. "Timmy, get your speakers." McGee rolled his eyes and left the room.

Jeanne was sitting close beside Tony, and she leaned over to him. "Does she give orders like that all the time?"

"In certain moods, she does," Tony replied softly. Gibbs snorted, and Tony grinned at him.

"Did he hear you?" Jeanne asked.

"Gibbs hears everything."

Music mellowed the mood some, and Abby brought out a box of games. "I figured we could have a little fun."

Tony glanced over at Gibbs and was amused to see the long-suffering look on his face, but then he looked at Jeanne. "Any thoughts?"

She stood up and looked the box over, then selected a game called Taboo. Tony approved the choice. It was silly and everyone would be able to play. Even Gibbs, which he insisted on when the older man tried to bow out. Ducky was delighted to join in, of course, and Brad knew the game. With a word game, McGee was in his element, and he clearly expected to triumph over all comers. This stimulated Tony's competitive streak, and he found himself forgetting his policy of keeping his vocabulary strictly under control so that McGee could feel sufficiently superior. He always did better if he believed he had the edge over Tony in something other than computers. McGee expected to be superior there, so that didn't impact his performance significantly.

In describing murder, Tony used the word defenestration, and McGee's eyes widened. "Hey, you made me define that for you when I used it the other day."

Tony gave him an innocent look. "Obviously you're having a good influence on me."

McGee's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but then Abby guessed the word and they moved on.

Predictably, Gibbs was the first to notice when Tony began to flag. Tony would willingly have forced himself to go on. It was a great pleasure to spend time with this group when there wasn't a crisis requiring their imminent attention.

"I think it's about time for me to call it a night, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, rising.

"But the game's not over," Abby said. "You've got to stay a while longer, Gibbs."

Gibbs' action seemed to have drawn Jeanne's attention to Tony's waning energy. She reached out and put a hand on his. "I think we can finish this game, Jethro."

Acceding to her judgment, Gibbs went and got himself a fresh glass of iced tea and sat down again. Tony found the reactions of the others very amusing. Brad didn't know them all that well, so he didn't notice anything, but Ziva and Abby exchanged startled looks. Ducky looked faintly bemused, McGee confused, and Jimmy, of all things, approving. Tony felt remarkably cared for, if a little self-conscious. They finished the game, McGee's team winning, but he had Ducky and Abby, so they cheated with esoteric scientific jargon.

When Tony started to get up like a proper host to see his guests out, he discovered that he was unable to rise to his feet without assistance. They'd shifted to the sofa and chairs for the game, and Tony had sunk deeply into Jeanne's couch. Between them, Jimmy and Jeanne got him up. "Where did you set up the bed, Abby?" Jeanne asked. "Jimmy, will you help –"

"Jeanne, I can walk," Tony said, though he had to confess that he didn't really have the energy to see their guests off properly.

"Tony . . ." She bit her lip, clearly torn between her guests and taking care of Tony. She was clearly going to be paranoid for a long time after this.

"I'll get him through into the bedroom, Jeanne," Jimmy said softly. "Okay?"

Seeming grateful for this solution to her dilemma, Jeanne squeezed Tony's hand, then let go. Jimmy guided Tony into the front hall, but they went right past the stairs into the room Tony expected would eventually be their living room. It was empty. "Where's the bed?" he asked, glancing back towards the base of the stairs. "The bedroom's upstairs."

"In the room behind this one," Jimmy said. "Jeanne didn't want you to have to go up and down the stairs a lot for the first few days back." Tony groaned. "Sorry, she and Abby are both absolutely freaked about this whole you getting gut shot thing."

"Yeah, but Ziva was here, right? Didn't she have any influence?"

Jimmy gave him a pitying look. "For a hardened assassin, Ziva's remarkably paranoid about your lungs."

"Oh God!" Tony moaned. "Not that again. Brad assures me that my lungs aren't a problem this time."

"Well, she keeps asking him when you're not around," Jimmy said. "Oddly, every time it comes up, she gives Jeanne a death glare. I can't figure that one out."

"That is odd," Tony said, blinking. He sat down on the bed. "Thank you for remaining moderately sane, Jimmy," he said.

Jimmy shrugged. "I take my cue from Dr. Mallard. He's pretty calm about all of this, even when we're alone, and he doesn't have to keep the mask up."

Tony sighed and let himself relax a little. He looked down at his shoes and thought seriously about just leaving them on. Bending sounded kind of sucky. Then Jimmy squatted down and started undoing the laces. "You don't have to do that, Jimmy," he said.

"I don't mind, Tony," Jimmy replied, setting first one shoe and then the other aside. "Keep in touch, would you? I worry about how you're coping with all of this. You've had a hell of a month."

Tony snorted. "Sure, Jimmy. Oh, and I owe you a major apology. I should have listened to you."

"Yes, you should have," Jimmy said. "But that's in the past. Catch you later, Tony."

Tony watched him go and then lowered himself gently across the bed, staring up at the coffered ceilings of his new house. Life could be weird when the hellish and the sublime came together.

McGee didn't quite know how it came about, but he found himself washing dishes in the vaulted kitchen with Abby drying next to him. Ziva seemed to have a nearly magical ability to get them all moving in the direction she wanted. She and Gibbs had stayed in the dining room, straightening things up and folding up the excess card tables and taking down the balloons. Abby had protested briefly over that, but Ziva had pointed out that they would very soon start sagging and would be less than cheery for Tony's mood and might trip him up.

"How does she do that?" he muttered, watching Gibbs and Palmer go by with Ducky's chairs.

"Who do what?" Abby asked.

"How does Ziva get us all doing whatever she tells us?"

"What are you talking about, McGee?" Abby asked testily. "I'm the hostess of this party, of course I'm cleaning up afterwards."

McGee decided not to pursue the subject, but not only had Ziva maneuvered Abby into doing what she wanted, she'd convinced Abby that it was her own idea. Of course, she had some help there since Abby didn't like admitting that anyone could get her to do things besides Gibbs, but Ziva had even managed to press gang Dr. Pitt into helping. He watched them carry some of the food in and put it in the fridge and thought that maybe she had some help there, too. Dr. Pitt had a really sappy look on his face.

McGee pulled the plug and rinsed the water down the drain, and Abby finished drying the last dish, putting it in a neat pile in the one cupboard they'd put things in. "It's still early," he said. "You want to catch a movie?"

"Sure, McGee."

Gibbs watched Abby and McGee leave, each to their separate cars, making plans to meet up at some movie theater or other. Dr. Pitt had already gone, and Palmer had driven off towards Ducky's place to return his chairs. Ziva wound up standing next to him. She had certainly gotten everyone moving, gently shoving Jeanne towards Tony to get her out of their hair while they cleaned up. He turned and smiled down at her. She flushed a little and looked away. "What?"

"I'm proud of you, David," he said, and her eyes came up to meet his. "You did good tonight."

Her eyes were soft and vulnerable for a moment, but then they toughened up again. "I do not know what you mean. Here are the keys. I think I will go join Abby and Tim at their movie."

"You do that," Gibbs said. She trotted down the steps and he stepped back inside to take a quick glance through and make sure that there was nothing else out of place – not that anything could really be in place at the moment. Once he was satisfied, he went out the front door and closed it softly, turning the key in the lock and then pocketing it. He went down a couple of blocks to his truck and climbed in. Just as he'd settled himself in the seat and put the key in the ignition, his phone rang. He didn't bother digging out his glasses to look and see who'd called, he just flipped the phone open. "Gibbs."

"How did the party go? How's DiNozzo? When do you think he'll be ready to come back to work?"

Jenny finally paused in her onslaught of questions to let him answer a couple. "The party went fine, Jen," he said. "DiNozzo is about how you'd expect after being shot in the gut. He got tired early. How did you know it was over?"

"I just saw Abby's hearse go by," she replied, and Gibbs snorted. "He's okay, then?"

"He'll be okay," Gibbs said. "And if I know Tony, he'll be back at work before it's really good for him."

"Mmm," Jen said, and Gibbs just knew she was thinking about how similar DiNozzo and he were in that respect. "So, how are things going on –"

"You are not seriously going to ask me about their relationship, are you?" Gibbs asked dryly.

"Of course not. Good night, Agent Gibbs."

There was a click, and Gibbs shook his head. Then he thought of another call he should make. He found his glasses and started looking through his contacts list, then placed the call. She answered after two rings. "Hello?"

"Helen, it's Jethro," Gibbs said.

Her voice warmed slightly. "Hello, Jethro. How did things go this evening?"

"Well enough," Gibbs replied. "DiNozzo tired quickly, but that's no surprise."

"And my daughter, is she still acting like a mother hen with one chick?"

Gibbs snorted. "Oh yes. I understand there are betting pools on how long DiNozzo will put up with it."

"Have you placed your own bet?" she asked.

"No point, I already know the answer," Gibbs said. "DiNozzo's not going to risk his second chance for his ego."

"I'm glad to hear it, Jethro. Thanks for telling me."

"Good night, Helen."

"Good night, Jethro."

Gibbs closed the phone and put it down on the seat beside him. Starting the truck, he pulled out into traffic. He glanced to the right when he passed the DiNozzo/Benoit residence and smiled. All might not be right with the world, but they were a step closer with this development. He drove on home, feeling unusually content.

When the house finally went still, Tony slipped out of Jeanne's arms gently. Not that he didn't like being there, quite the contrary, but he felt a pressing need that could no longer be ignored. He went slowly to the half bath that had been inserted between the two rooms. Jeanne had come into the room shortly after Jimmy had left him on the bed, and she'd helped him the rest of the way out of his clothes, changed herself, and climbed into bed with him. Once horizontal, she had fallen asleep nearly instantly. That had been enough to tell him just how much time she'd spent at the hospital, even if his memory wasn't always as clear as it should be between the drugs and sleeping way too much. He had been aware of people moving around the house while he lay dozing beside her, but the sound of the front door closing and the click of the tumblers turning in the lock had brought him fully awake.

He turned to wash his hands, contemplating his situation with wonder. How had he gotten so lucky? People didn't usually get second chances, not especially when they'd screwed the first chance up so badly.

The bathroom door opened and Jeanne appeared. "Tony, are you –" She saw him washing his hands and stopped, turning what had been going to be a question into a statement. "You're okay."

"I am," he said with a smile. Turning towards her, he pulled her into his arms. "Alone at last," he murmured into her hair.

Her arms wrapped around him. "I know. I've missed that."

They stood there for a long moment, then Tony kissed the top of her head. "We can't spend all evening standing in the bathroom," he said softly.

She laughed and drew back, gazing up at him with a fondness that made his breath catch in his throat. How would he ever be able to deserve that look? She took his hand and led him back out into the room that was serving as a bedroom. "How are you feeling, seriously?" she asked.

"Seriously, with every nerve ending," he replied. She turned to look at him, her brows furrowed darkly, and he hastened to elaborate. "I'm tired and a little achy, and it's about time for my next round of pills, but overall I feel peachy for a man who's been shot." He reached out and tucked her hair back behind her ear. The hospital bracelet on his wrist caught in the curls and pulled them free again. He took the thing between the fingers of his other hand and started to pull on it. Then he looked up and met Jeanne's eyes. "Can I get rid of this one, or do I need to keep it, too?"

"Hell no," Jeanne exclaimed. She turned as if to go get something, but then she stopped. "I have no idea where to find a pair of scissors in here," she said.

"Grab my belt," Tony replied, nodding towards his pants. She gave him a dubious look. "Seriously, grab my belt." She picked his belt up, sliding it out of the loops of his pants and handed it to him, her perplexity showing in her eyes. He took the buckle in one hand and the body of the belt in the other and pulled, revealing the wicked little knife that had saved his life more than once. He presented it to her ceremoniously.

She took it, sliced through the hospital bracelet and tossed the strip of plastic tape aside. Then she put her hand out for the length of the belt. He handed it to her and she sheathed the knife bemusedly. "So all the time we were together, this was here?"

"Well, I've replaced the leather twice since then," Tony said. "But yes. It's proven very useful on more than one occasion, and keeps me in Gibbs' good graces even when I've had all my weapons taken away."

"How so?"

"Rule nine, never go anywhere without a knife."

"Rule nine?" she repeated. "There are nine rules for working with Gibbs?"

"Oh, way more than nine," Tony replied. "But I bought this with rule nine in mind, and it's saved my life a couple times."

Jeanne put the belt down on her dresser with due reverence, then walked back over to him, cupping his cheek in her hand. "It's time for bed, hero," she said.

Tony waggled his eyebrows lasciviously. "I think that's a great idea."

Jeanne laughed. "Come on, loverboy, let's go."

They got into the bed and Tony tried to play the Lothario, but all he managed was a passionate kiss before he had to relax onto the bed with a sigh. "I don't like to make promises I can't keep, but . . ."

Jeanne leaned over him and kissed him gently on the lips. "Hush," she said, taking his hand and interlacing her fingers with his. "I love you, Tony."

"I love you," he said, smiling at her, amazed that it had been so hard to say the first time.

She kissed his forehead and then his lips again. "That's all the promise I need." He squeezed her hand gently, and she settled carefully on his chest.

Finis

Thank you for following me on this crazy ride. Let me know how you liked it!