It was the second anniversary of his mother's death, and there were no funerals scheduled for today. Either of those facts alone was dangerous. Together, they were enough to drive Tony from the relative warmth of the apartment attached to the funeral parlor and into the first hard snow of the winter.

If his father had been in a good mood, he might have been safe. If his father had been busy, he might have been safe.

Since neither of those things were true, Anthony DiNozzo Sr was already reaching for the whiskey bottle. Tony's thin coat might protect him from the biting wind. He knew from experience it wouldn't protect him from a drunk Senior.

He rubbed at his bruised arm gingerly as he huffed his way up the hill to his mother's grave. Someone ought to visit her today, and since his father wasn't going to make the effort, he'd just have to go and keep her company.

Besides. The grave wasn't visible from the apartment. His father had made sure of that. If Senior stopped to wonder about where his son was, it might take him a while to find Tony if he was up at the grave.

He stopped at a small stone isolated from the others. Normally he would sit beside it, but if he let the snow soak into his pants, the cold would drive him in far before it was safe. Better to stand, even if the bitter wind still left him shivering.

"They played your favorite movie last night," he told her. Senior had never had much time for the Capital approved entertainment on the television, but Elizabeth DiNozzo had loved the glamor of the costumes and the sweeping Capital romances. This one had been her favorite for the hints of politics and intrigue that had shone through. "They've edited it again. You know that minor politician that played himself? They cut all his parts out."

That had been a game between them, once. Figuring out what messages got pulled, what actors went too far and got erased, what was changed between one edition and the next.

Having seen his father cut the memory of his mother out of their lives bit by bit, except for days like this one, Tony wasn't quite so fond of the game any more, but he kept it up for his mother's sake.

He chattered on about movies and the long awaited finale to one of her favored shows. He kept away from any talk about his life. If his mother didn't already know, Tony wasn't going to disturb her rest by telling.

When he had to start rubbing his fingers together to keep them from going numb, he reluctantly conceded that it was time to go in. Maybe he could hide in the funeral parlor and avoid his father for a few more hours. If he could just make it until Senior passed out . . .

When he turned to go, though, he noticed another figure standing at a large tombstone at the bottom of the hill.

It was Tuesday. With the school temporarily closed for repairs, he had forgotten.

Tony hesitated. Tuesday was the day Gibbs always came to visit his family's graves. Tony's father had drilled into his head that he was to leave the victor alone. Tony had never disobeyed the instruction.

But he had broken that rule last week. It had bothered him that, like him, Gibbs always came to the graves alone, and he had owed Gibbs a favor after the man had found him asleep on his mother's grave and hadn't told Senior.

In hindsight, he probably should have made a little more noise as he was walking up to the man. Sneaking up on a victor was never a good idea.

On the plus side, Gibbs had only gone for his knife, he hadn't actually drawn it. Tony was pretty sure that Gibbs was sorry for the incident too. District rumor was that he had a soft spot for kids.

So he was at least slightly less likely to hurt him than his father was. And Tony really, really didn't want to head inside just yet.

Mind made up, Tony curved towards Gibbs as he headed down the hill.

The snow crunching beneath his feet was probably enough noise, but he made sure to really stomp in it just in case. Gibbs was already looking up by the time Tony was a few yards away. Tony grinned and waved. "Hey, Gibbs!"

Gibbs' mouth twitched in what might, concievably, almost be called a smile. Tony's grin broadened. Success!

"Didn't think I'd see you again after last time," Gibbs' voice was hoarse, like he didn't use it much.

Tony shrugged. "If your admittedly lethal glare didn't kill me the first time, I figure repeated exposure couldn't hurt. Besides, you looked lonely."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. Tony backpedaled quickly.

"Not, of course, that you couldn't find someone to talk to on your own if you were, in fact, lonely. Which you aren't. Obviously."

The eyebrow was still up, but Gibbs' mouth was doing that twitching thing again. "I appreciate the thought." He looked up the hill and his voice softened. "Your mom?"

Tony's shrug was a lot tighter this time. "Someone needed to go see her today."

"I'm sure she'd be glad it was you. You're a good kid, Tony."

Tony felt a flush creep up the back of his neck even as the soft praise settled in nice and warm in his chest. He tried to laugh it off. "My teachers would disagree with you." And so would his father.

A deep, uncontrolled shudder in Tony's shoulders cut off whatever else Gibbs might have said. "Let's get you inside."

Tony took a half step backward. "I'm good. Really. I think I'll just - "

Gibbs reached out and grabbed his elbow. Tony flinched automatically, but despite the strength the victor undoubtedly still had, the grip wasn't crushing like he expected. It just circled around, surprisingly gentle, as Gibbs steered him towards the false promise of the cheery windows.

"What would your mom say if she knew you were staying out for hours in a coat this thin?" Gibbs demanded.

"It hasn't been hours," Tony muttered rebelliously. At least, he didn't think it had been. He needed that little bit of rebellion though, because he was trotting behind Gibbs, not fighting to get away like he should have been.

Gibbs didn't respond to that.

Tony at least managed to convince Gibbs to go around to the business entrance. "Dad needs some space. I don't want to disturb him."

He wasn't sure quite what the look in Gibbs' eyes was, but it made him feel uncomfortably like Gibbs was seeing right through him.

Gibbs didn't say anything though, just dug in his pocket until he pulled out a small bag of something that looked like it came from the baker's.

Tony dragged his mind from the rare treats his mother would sometimes scrape up the money to afford at Christmastime and looked curiously up at Gibbs. "What's that?"

Gibbs pressed it into his startled hands. "For last time." Then he turned and headed down the frozen street.

Tony stared after him for a long moment before opening the package and peering inside. The smell of cooling chocolate pastries wafted up at him.

Presumably, this was as close to a, "Sorry I pulled a knife on you when you weren't trying to kill me," as Gibbs could get.

Personally, Tony thought this was good enough to be getting on with.

He slipped in the door and found a hiding spot behind the coffin on display. He didn't quite dare to climb into it.

His father found him eventually, but by that time Tony had already finished all the pastries and hidden the evidence. He still had a few bruises to show for it, but talking to Gibbs had given him enough time for his father to be too drunk to do much.

All things considered, the day had gone better than he'd dared to hope, he decided when he snuck to bed after his father had finally passed out. And Gibbs was definitely forgiven for the knife incident.

He should go talk to him again next week.