Takes place immediately following the final scene of 5.7 Requiem.

Tony kept his eyes scrunched tight against the morning light infiltrating the room. He moved to bury his head but frowned as his cheek encountered rough and itchy fabric. Most mornings he awoke curled up in his Comfert-tastic Chaise in silk pajama pants under a cashmere afghan; this morning his half asleep brain sluggishly tried to make sense of the stiff pajamas and uncomfortable bedding.

It wasn't until he placed the familiar scent of bourbon and sawdust that his eyes snapped open.

Instead of his top of the line leather chaise he was ensconced in Gibbs' aged, polyester blend chair.

He picked at the wool blanket he didn't remember pulling on and slowly began to recall sitting down to take a moment to process everything last night after escorting his boss home from the hospital.

Tony suspected Gibbs had only accepted the ride for fear the doctor wouldn't have released him to go home alone. Despite the uncomfortable silence for the duration of the ride, Tony had been grateful for the opportunity. He needed to quickly create images to replace the memories of Gibbs' lifeless eyes staring back at him.

That's why, despite Gibbs passing out as soon as they got to the living room, Tony hadn't immediately left. He hadn't intended to spend the night or fall asleep, he just wanted a couple of minutes to watch the rise and fall of the other man's chest; evidence that he really was alive despite the fact that Tony had all but given up on him on that dock.

Leaving him without a pulse and with those blue eyes staring dully into nothingness had been the hardest thing Tony had ever done, but he knew, dead or alive, the other man would haunt him had he not done everything in his power to save the girl. He still didn't understand how Leroy Jethro Gibbs was still alive. The doctors had tried to explain somethings about the cold and adrenaline but Tony swore there had been no pulse nor signs of breath when he had moved on to try and breath life into Maddie Taylor.

A chill ran through him and he swiveled his head but a pillow and folded blanket on the edge of the couch was the only indication there had been someone else in the room.

"Damn." He muttered, kicking off the blanket covering him and pushing himself out of the chair. Standing in the middle of the room he stretched and roughed his hands through his hair, grimacing down at himself and the blue hospital scrubs he wore.

"Double damn." He cursed, picking up his bag and sniffing at his still wet and rapidly mildew-ing suit balled up inside.

Tossing the bag back down he stilled, listening for any sound of the house's occupant. Hearing none, he headed to his best guess as to where he'd find Gibbs.

"Boss?" He shouted into the basement.

"DiNozzo." Instead of coming up from the depths of the basement, Gibbs' flat reply was delivered quietly from immediatly behind him.

Tony jumped and spun, "Boss! Didn't, uh, didn't hear you there."

Gibbs just stared back as Tony's eyes darted about, taking in the open back door and a dirt covered hand shovel in Gibbs' right hand. "Doing some early morning gardening, Boss?"

"It's after 9." Gibbs replied, reaching around Tony to leave the trowel on the rail to the basement.

"Right..." Tony nodded slowly, "And by that you mean it's hardly early morning at all, which means it's totally normal morning gardening, because what wouldn't be normal about it? I mean if I were to nearly die by drowning in a car I drove off a pier, the first thing I would do the next day would be to plant petunias or marigolds or whatever those plants are that you have back there..."

Gibbs rose an eyebrow and stepped back.

"So, not marigolds?" Tony pushed, "I don't really know anything about plants..."

His boss didn't respond, pulling out a carton of eggs from the fridge and setting a frying pan on the stove.

Tony frowned, "I didn't think there was any food in there last night..."

"There is now."

"Sooo...gardening and grocery shopping." Tony frowned, looking toward the street, "How? You take a cab already to get your truck?"

"Nope." Gibbs pulled a familiar keyring out of his pocket and tossed it to him.

Tony snagged the keys out of the air, "Right. You just borrowed my car. To go grocery shopping before 9am the day after you basically died." He frowned and looked the other man over, "You sure you're alright, Boss?"

"I'm sure." Came the not unexpected monosyllabic reply as Gibbs began cracking eggs into the frying pan.

"Gotchya." Tony tossed the keys between his hands, "Well, as much as I enjoy standing here in doctor jammies, I'm sure you'd like to get back to your gardening or, whatever so I'll just be getting out of your way."

He turned to leave but was halted by, "Scrambled?"

"What?" He looked over his shoulder.

Gibbs gestured with a spatula, "Eggs. You like them scrambled, right?"

"Uh..." Tony stuttered a moment, conciously snapping his jaw shut. "I mean, yeah, scrambled, yeah."

"Okay." Gibbs pointed to the kitchen table, "Sit."

Unable to articulate a reason to decline, Tony dropped into a chair and watched silently as Gibbs continued to mix the eggs and add sausage to the skillet.

He was almost relaxed into the lull of the odd moment when his eye caught his boss smother a flinch as he lifted the skillet from the burner. Tony straightened, watching carefully and catching the flinch again when Gibbs turned to shovel the breakfast on to a plate.

"What's wrong?"

Gibbs didn't turn around, "No orange juice. Going to have to go with water or beer if you're thirsty."

"That's not what I meant." Tony rebutted. "It usually takes something heavier than a frying pan to make you wince."

"Usually..." Gibbs turned, delivering a fully loaded plate to the table in front of Tony and sitting down with a mug of coffee for himself, "...I don't have broken ribs."

Tony felt his throat constrict. "Boss, I'm real sorry about that...I just...you know the cpr instructor said 2 inch compressions and I was just on autopilot... "

"You apologizing, DiNozzo?" Gibbs cut him off, sipping his coffee.

"Right, Boss. No, Boss." Tony picked up his fork, but paused, eggs midway to his mouth as he noticed the lack of a second plate, "You're not having any breakfast?"

Gibbs held up his mug in response, "Coffee."

"Right..." Tony frowned and hesitated until he began to salivate over the sausage and he dug in to the food, suddenly all too aware that he hadn't eaten since the previous day's lunch before Gibbs had disappeared to find Maddie Taylor on his own.

His mind triggered the memory of the phone going straight to voicemail, of the Director's concern, of Abbey's timely brilliance, of rushing to the docks in time to hear gunshots and watch through a chain link fence as Gibbs and Maddie crashed into the river while taking fire. Tony blinked and purposefully stopped the mental reel from replaying the images of what came next.

He looked up to see his boss staring at him. "Okay?"

"Uh, yeah." Tony nodded again, "Just realized how hungry I was."

Gibbs shrugged, "Should have gotten dinner last night."

"That was the original plan." Tony shrugged between bites, "But someone needed a ride home from the hospital."

"Never asked you to stay." Gibbs spoke into his mug.

Tony tightened his jaw, considering pointing out that between the emotional and physical exhaustion, Gibbs hadn't been in much position to ask anything last night. He opted to keep his attention on his eggs, "I just meant to make sure you settled in okay."

"And yet, here you still are."

Tony put his fork down, frowning, "I said I could go."

Gibbs pointed to the empty plate, "You want any more?"

"Uh, no." He tilted his head, "But, thanks?"

"That a question?" Gibbs stood, clearing the plate to the sink.

"No, just, uh, confused I guess." Tony blinked, "You made me breakfast."

"I know." He didn't look up from cleaning the dish.

Tony stood, following into the kitchen, "You don't do that."

"Yet, I did."

Tony stood in the center of the kitchen, staring at his boss' back and trying to get a handle on the unexpected direction of the morning and the string of apparent non sequiturs.

Gibbs shut off the water and turned around, leaning against the counter and drying his hands, looking Tony over with the kind of analytical gaze directed at suspects.

Finally, after a protracted and long silence Gibbs lifted his chin, "You good?"

Frowning, Tony tilted his head, feeling the other man's steady gaze on him. He swallowed, still tasting the eggs and sausage on his tongue and slowly he felt his lips tugging up in a small smile as he began to piece it together. "Yeah, I'm good."

He waited for Gibbs to nod before raising his own chin, "You good?"

Gibbs smirked, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

"So...we're good?" Tony pointed between the two of them.

"Seems like it." Gibbs nodded once, refilling his coffee.

"Okay." Tony gestured over his shoulder, "Unless there are any more culinary surprises, I have some dry cleaning to do."

"That you do." Gibbs nodded. "Shouldn't leave your wet clothes balled up over night."

He snorted, "Uh, yeah, thanks, Boss. I'll remember that next time."

"Ideally there won't be a next time." Gibbs breathed.

"I guess that's up to you." Tony huffed without thought as turned to the living room to retreive his bag.

"What?" Gibbs put down his mug and followed him into the front room, "Are we or are we not good?"

Tony exhaled and bit the inside of his lip before turning around, "No, we're fine, Boss." He tried not to squirm under Gibbs' eyes, "I'm used to you going off solo and digging up trouble." He shrugged, "I stopped fighting against that one years ago." He picked up and shouldered his bag, "But that also means that I have very little control over if there will or will not be a next time. That's on you, Boss."

He looked up, expecting to return a steely gaze but Gibbs was looking down, eyes focused somewhere ahead of his boots.

Tony swallowed, "Anyway...we're good. Glad you're okay." He palmed his keys and moved to open the front door, before looking back with a smile, "And you're right, I'm not really sorry about the broken ribs."

"Tony."

He was halted by the quiet tone of his first name and he looked back to see Gibbs' eyes raised again.

"I'm thankful for them." He patted his side, "The ribs."

Tony squared up in the doorway, brow furrowed.

Gibbs smirked, "They hurt everytime I breathe; reminds me I'm still alive." The smirk faded away to something softer, "Thanks."

Tony blinked and swallowed twice before he was able to reply, "See ya back at the office, Boss."