Author's Note: I am SO sorry about how late this post is. This is why I don't usually post until I am completely finished, because I hate to keep my readers waiting! But of course, I jumped the gun and posted the first 2 parts without the 3rd being done, thinking I could finish it, and then BAM, life happened. I truly am sorry, and trust me, I was thinking about this story a lot, just didn't have any time to sit down and write. So today, my first day of spring break, I sat down for 6 hours and wrote the rest of the chapter.

It is WAY longer than I was expecting, but I just wanted to post it all instead of leaving you all hanging again. I think at the end, you will find Tony is somewhat more comfortable with his past as a star athlete and it's implications on his life now. I did have a lot of fun writing it, and tried to stay in character to the best of my ability. Hopefully it worked! Thank you so so so much for all of your support, and read the A/N at the bottom for what's coming next :)

Tag 1 Part C

McGee watched from inside the bar as Tony and Charlie said their goodbyes. He looked behind him to see Gibbs and Ziva beginning to back up their supplies as they finished up with the scene.

Fingerprints from the scene had already ID-ed their killer as Frank Patton and it was only a matter of time before they got a hit on the BOLO that Gibbs had issued. At this point, they would head back to the Navy Yard, make sure the evidence was in order for an errorless trial, and begin their search for Patton. With any luck, it would be an easy collar and they would soon be home free.

Of course, the drive back to the Navy Yard would be interesting – because there was no way they were just going to pretend that Tony hadn't just been pulled away from a crime scene by his biggest fan and forced to re-assume his long-forsaken role of basketball superstar.

Yup, that conversation was pretty much unavoidable after the night they'd had – and McGee had a feeling Tony would be less than receptive.

Which was just what he needed to end this long week: a cornered and surly DiNozzo.

With a resigned sigh, he made to turn back to help his teammates pack up, but stopped dead as his eyes focused on one of the many framed photographs lining the bar wall.

No…No way. He thought, his eyes becoming wider as he unconsciously stepped toward the picture.

There, just 4 feet in front of him, hung a large framed photograph of none other than Anthony DiNozzo. Twenty-one year old Tony was being jostled by jubilant teammates as he hoisted the National Championship trophy over his head, a familiar 100-watt grin lit up his youthful face. Slightly off-center, McGee spotted Tony's familiar messy scrawl: "Go Bucks! National Champs!" and underneath it, the graceful curves of Tony's well-practiced autograph.

"It is a nice picture, is it not?"

McGee jumped at Ziva's smooth voice in his ear.

Recovering quickly, he replied, "Yeah, yeah it is."

"I noticed it as we entered. I did not think Tony would appreciate it, so I attempted to distract him." Ziva explained, and suddenly her interrogation about Tony's personal life made a little more sense.

"A little late for that," McGee commented wryly.

"Well, I did not intend for that man to approach Tony. If I had, I would have spent more time observing him instead."

McGee nodded, looking back out towards his partner. Watson had left, but Tony had not yet moved from his spot to come back into the bar. He looked to be deep in thought.

"You know, maybe it was a good thing – Tony talking to a fan," McGee contemplated.

"It is possible," Ziva replied, also looking out the window at her partner.

McGee raised his eyebrows at her, waiting for her to finish the thought.

"Or…" she continued, "it is possible that this will make him shut down even further."

McGee nodded, hearing the concern that laced her voice.

"You think we should talk to him?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"I think we must…It is what he would do for us."

"He's not gonna like it," McGee warned.

"Yes, well, sometimes we must hear things, even if we do not wish to talk about them. Tough luck."

McGee winced. "Wrong idiom – tough love."

Ziva looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before replying slowly. "Yes, love. That is what I meant."

McGee raised his eyebrows at her, but she ignored his look, gathering her gear and walking towards the exit.

This would be an interesting conversation, indeed.

NCIS – NCIS – NCIS – NCIS – NCIS

Tony was just re-entering the bar as Ziva and McGee decided to leave. Tony awkwardly made eye contact with his teammates, giving them an embarrassed nod before moving past them, muttering "give me a sec" under his breath.

"Tony." Ziva's soft call stopped him momentarily. "We are finished in here – we are returning to the Navy Yard."

Tony nodded jerkily. "Okay. Be there in a sec. I'm sure you probies can handle loading the truck without me." The forced lightness of his tone indicated his true thoughts: Please, leave it at that. Don't follow me back in.

To his surprise, his teammates seemed to understand his silent plea, maybe reading the steely conviction in his eyes. They gave him a long look, before McGee finally said, "Okay, I'll start the truck," reaching his hand out to Ziva to get the keys.

Tony saw right away his probie's attempt to spare them both from Ziva's driving. Except today, he wanted the drive over with as fast as possible, which was why he found himself saying, "C'mon probie, let the probette drive – she needs the practice more than you do."

The look of surprise on McGee's face was one for the ages – he clearly thought Tony had lost his mind. Next to him, Ziva smirked, and Tony had the feeling she knew exactly what he was thinking. He hoped he wouldn't regret this.

With one last knowing glance, Ziva turned on her heel and grabbed a stumbling McGee. "Come, McGee – I have gotten quite used to driving in America," she assured.

Tony smirked as he turned around. Ziva couldn't be more wrong about her improved driving skills, but anything was better than McGrandma's driving, which had the possibility of making their 20 minute drive an hour long excursion. He could last 20 minutes, couldn't he?

He stepped into the bar and scanned the walls – it only took him a few seconds to find the picture he was looking for.

Of all the sports bars in the Metro area, they had to be called out to the one that had decided to use a 20 year old picture of him as a wall decoration. They had crappy taste.

He allowed himself to look at the photograph for a moment and the memories started to flow through him. God, that had been one of the happiest moments of his life. He remembered the disbelief he'd experienced as he watched that final shot fall through, and then the immediate and overwhelming thrill he'd felt as it hit him – they were National Champions.

He remembered his teammates rushing towards him. Remembered being jostled by the mob of ecstatic fans, and then hoisted up on their shoulders as he tried to process what was happening. He remembered feeling numb, as the excitement surrounding him became a blur – reporters shoving everyone aside to get a quote from him, friends and strangers slapping him on the back, congratulating him, camera flashes blinding him, his coach hugging him, tears trickling down his jubilant face, and then…the trophy ceremony. He and his team holding the award high above them, thanking the fans, reveling in the moment they'd been working towards their whole lives.

He must have stood there for almost a minute, lost in his memories. Memories that he hadn't allowed himself to enjoy for more than a decade.

He caught himself reaching out, as if he needed to touch the picture to ensure that it had really happened. He snapped his arm back to his side and took a slow step backward, blinking a few times to clear himself of the stupor he'd fallen into. He took another step back, and then another as he made his way away from the memories and back to the bar exit, not really paying attention to his surroundings.

"On your six, DiNozzo," a familiar voice warned, breaking through his momentary fugue.

He whirled around. Gibbs was straightening up from where he'd been packing up the remaining equipment. He'd almost tripped right over him.

"Sorry boss, wasn't looking!" Tony quickly apologized as Gibbs drew himself to full height.

Intense blue eyes regarded him carefully, as if searching for some crack in his usually impenetrable mask.

"On your six, DiNozzo," Gibbs repeated.

That simple assurance quelled any hope that Gibbs had somehow failed to see what Tony had been staring at.

"Well, technically boss, you're now at my twelve," Tony quipped. It was immediately clear that he had already recognized the double meaning in Gibbs' initial warning – and that he was unprepared for dealing with a serious conversation right now.

Gibbs head slapped him. "On. Your. Six."

"Got it boss."

"Good," Gibbs smirked as he turned away.

Tony watched his retreating form for a moment before he smiled himself and followed him out. Boss better watch it, he thought. If there'd been any witnesses, they might think he actually cared.

NCIS – NCIS – NCIS – NCIS – NCIS

"So," Ziva began as she pulled the truck onto the main road, only accelerating to 15 mph past the posted speed limit – an improvement from 'The old Ziva' but still not enough to make Tony or McGee feel safe – "Charlie Watson." She said his name with an expectant smile on her lips, turning to look across McGee at Tony.

Tony gave a nervous laugh, as if he were resigned to acknowledging the topic "Charlie Watson."

"He is a rather talkative man, yes?"

"You could say that," Tony shrugged, turning to look out the window. It was another quick comment, but he seemed to be allowing the conversation.

"I did not realize that you still had fans," Ziva commented curiously.

Another small laugh. "Yeah, me neither."

Tony's gaze remained trained on the passing scenery, his jaw clenched with uncertainty. He was tense, preparing himself for whatever was to come next.

McGee still hadn't said anything from his spot in the middle, as if sensing his partner's unease.

"You know, I would have thought you to find such attention gratifying." She paused for a moment. "It is well-deserved," she added, careful to keep her tone light, inviting a response of more than a few words.

Tony was silent for a while. He seemed to be considering carefully what he wanted to say. It was clear that he had no real idea what to say in this situation, but she had hoped for something. Which was why his response came as a shock to her…at least at first.

"What do you want?"

It was said quietly, softly, with no accusation or frustration just…uncertainty. He shifted his gaze back to the road in front of them and swallowed, as if waiting for…something. Maybe it was for the hammer to drop, or maybe it was just for the pitying assurances to start flying, she didn't know. But it was evident he honestly didn't know how he was supposed to respond, or more accurately, how his friends wanted him to respond.

He sounded…lost. Whether it be in the cobwebs of memories, in the muddlement of his thoughts, or in the expectations of others, he was momentarily lost. Ziva allowed herself a moment of weakness as her heart clenched for her friend.

"Nothing, Tony," she responded, equally quiet after she'd taken a moment to think. "Nothing. But we were there today, when he approached you. And we," she glanced towards McGee, who was carefully studying Tony, "just think that maybe it would be…beneficial for you to talk to one…or both of us about it."

Tony looked up, his eyes showing his confusion and frustration. "About what? What do you want to know? I thought…I mean, you already know everything."

Ziva knew the hint of bitterness in his voice manifested more from fear than anger. Tony felt vulnerable. It figured that the one time Tony actually felt vulnerable was at a moment when he should feel proud and accomplished.

"You are referring to the television special, correct?"

Tony's eyes briefly met hers, his expression clear, What the hell else would I be referring to?

Ziva gave a small smile at the familiar DiNozzo spark. "Yes, we watched the special Tony. But we would like to talk to you about it." She stopped for a second, but he didn't respond. She tried one more time. "And I think…that if you talk about it Tony, it might help you, too."

She could see her words take hold in Tony's head, his face muscles clenching slightly as he processed it.

Ziva and McGee waited patiently as Tony considered her words, clearly mulling over all of the scenarios and conversations that could end badly. But he hadn't cracked one joke, hadn't made one attempt at changing the subject or skirting the proposal – which meant he actually was considering positive outcomes as well.

It seemed as if he truly did want to tell them, deep down. Ziva hoped that despite the rollercoaster of a night, Tony would be able to concentrate on the trust they had built over the years, rather than the secrecy he had relied on since he'd graduated, and finally be able to share with his friends and begin to heal.

Finally he looked up, glancing between her face and McGee's. "You think so?" he asked, his tone was serious and his eyes were searching for something…perhaps answers.

"Yeah, Tony, we do," McGee interjected finally. "We know you don't want to make it a big deal, but keeping it all bottled up isn't the answer. Because then, when something like this happens," he said, referring to Charlie Watson's intrusion on the crime scene, "it ends up making it a big deal. We're not asking you to talk about it all day, every day, but you don't have to pretend it didn't happen. We aren't going to treat you any differently. And we know…we see that you still struggle with what it all means to you too, so maybe that's where talking about it will help. And you don't have to talk to me and Ziva if you don't want to…you can talk to Abby or Jimmy or hell, Gibbs, but you should talk to someone Tony. We're here for you. We all are."

McGee finished his speech staring at Tony with intensity. Tony stared back at him, struggling to keep his face completely impassive – though Ziva had no idea what emotion he was struggling against. Quite likely, it was shock, because though she had expected a little contribution from McGee in her confrontation, she hadn't expected his a speech. The truck was quiet for a moment.

"That was…well said, McGee," Ziva finally decided to say.

McGee's eyes flicked back to Ziva, but then quickly settled again on Tony, whose facial expression still hadn't changed.

But…there was something in his eyes. Perhaps a spark, that hadn't been there thirty seconds ago. Suddenly, his lips quirked up into a smirk. "When did you grow a backbone, McGee?"

McGee snorted at the jab. "Gee, thanks, DiNozzo."

Tony's smile grew bigger. "I'm serious! I have to say, I like it. But you have to cut down a little on the touchy-feely stuff. Don't want anyone thinking you're a softie!"

"Tony!" Ziva interjected, exasperated. "We are being serious!" She slammed down on the gas pedal as she screeched around a corner, as if to make her point.

"Whoa, ninja! Okay, slow down, slow down, McBarfbag may have a backbone, but he still doesn't have a strong stomach!"

McGee's answering glare would have been more effective had he not been concentrating on keeping his dinner down. Ziva, on the other hand, pretty much had Gibbs's glare down pat. The sight of her dangerous eyes flashing sobered Tony up pretty quickly.

He sat back in his seat, but not before giving his frustrated partner a playful wink. He may be vulnerable, but his defenses weren't totally down. Nonetheless, their little exchange had reminded him how much he cared about his partners, about his friends…and how much they cared about him. It had been a long time since he'd had friends that he truly trusted – maybe it was time to take that leap of faith, to let them in, and allow himself to accept the support they were offering.

"So you guys really want to know about my basketball days?" he asked, after a short respite. The look in his eyes was searching, and it was clear that uncertain-DiNozzo had once again overtaken jokester-DiNozzo.

"Yeah, Tony, we do. If you want to tell us." McGee's gentle tone indicated he'd already forgiven Tony's backbone comment. Truly, he had expected worse from a cornered DiNozzo. Maybe he wasn't the one getting soft.

Tony sighed. "Well there's really not that much to tell that you don't already know…"

"We do not need the facts, Tony. We would just like to know about you," Ziva said.

Tony gave her a quizzical look, but McGee was there to clarify. "What we mean is, we don't want you to have to hide it anymore. We just want to know how you felt about it…or maybe, how you feel about it now."

"You do not have to tell us everything today, Tony. We just want to make sure that you are…all right."

"Guys! I'm fine!" Tony gave an unconvincing laugh, but stopped immediately at the twin glares he was receiving from his partners. His eyes regarded them seriously for a moment. "I am fine."

Ziva and McGee waited for him to continue, realizing that his sudden change in tone was his way of actually addressing their concerns.

Tony took a deep breath. "Look, growing up, I really liked sports. Basketball and football." He glanced up at Ziva and offered a smile, "Sorry, Ziva, wasn't as fond of America's pastime as you are."

"It is all right, Tony," Ziva said, with a small nod in his direction, her Mona Lisa smile conveying her support of her friend.

Tony seemed to understand the dual meaning, and continued, this time, with a little more confidence in his voice.

"I played pretty much my whole life. It wasn't until I was disow—er, 11 or 12, that I realized they might be my ticket into college."

Neither Ziva or McGee had missed his little slip up, but only McGee latched onto it, his mouth opening and closing as if he wanted Tony to back up and explain yet another of his secrets. Ziva, however, more understanding of less-than-happy childhoods, discretely jabbed him in the side before he could ruin all of their hard work. His mouth quickly closed, but he filed the slip away for another time – like the next time Senior came into town and tried to mess with his partner.

Tony hadn't missed their little exchange, but was grateful for Ziva's quick, yet painful-looking intervention. He inwardly cringed at his slip-up, but he wasn't dwelling on it. Right now, he was already in over his head, and he'd gone too far to back out now. No, he was going to finish this…he'd deal with their reactions later.

"So, um…it turns out I was better at basketball than football, and my senior year, I committed to go to Ohio State. I was told I'd start at point guard as a freshman." He paused again, as if remembering the moment when he chose to become a Buckeye, when he chose to stick it to his father and follow in his own dreams. It had been so long ago, but the lingering emotions of freedom and satisfaction were still with him.

"But you still decided to play football, yes?" Tony was grateful to hear Ziva move the conversation along - memories could be dangerous places.

Tony let out another deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. Stupid decision, huh? Looking back on it? Kind of ruined everything." The silence was oppressive as Tony tried to work through everything, but finally he shook his head to clear his thoughts, as well as the heavy sadness that seemed to linger in the air.

"Sorry," Tony quickly said as he regained his train of thought. "Um, anyways, yeah, I walked onto the football team, trying to make it as a tight end. Turns out, I'm much better at returning kickoffs…damn." Again, his resolve seemed to crack, but he once more pulled it together.

"So I, uh, became a year-round athlete – football in the fall, basketball in the spring. It was awesome, really. My teammates, my coaches, the big games," he became more playful, "the parties, the girls." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Ziva. She snorted, amused.

"Those were good times," he said, nodding his head, his eyes suddenly far away.

"You certainly had a lot of fans," Ziva added, trying to bring Tony back into to the truck, which had long since pulled into the NCIS garage. No one seemed to notice.

Tony's eyes connected with hers. "Yeah. The whole campus loved our team…we had some pretty exciting games during those years. It's funny…we were just students, just like them, but in their eyes, we were…I don't know, super-human. I remember during one class I just signed autographs like the whole time – I never really understood it, but I thought it was great. I loved the attention…" he thought for a moment. "Guess that explains a lot."

The self-deprecating nonsense was back, but this time, McGee wasn't having any of it. "Seriously, Tony? Anyone would have been wrapped up in the attention. You had every right to enjoy it."

"Don't worry, McMascot, I most definitely enjoyed it. It's just…I started playing the game for myself, and even then, I was still playing it just for fun, because I loved it, and…it never made any sense to me how that made me a hero. I mean, what we're doing now, is way more worthy of that kind of support, but what am I still known for? A last minute buzzer beater to win a National Championship." His voice had turned decidedly bitter now…he was finally letting it all out.

"It's just…it's now 20 years later and I wonder…was there even a purpose to our games? Was there a reason that those fans wanted pictures and autographs and high fives? I did it for fun, for no other reason…did it really even have any meaning to begin with? I mean, what did I work those first 20 years of my life for? If I hadn't broken my leg, would I still be out there, somewhere, thinking I was making a damn difference because I was throwing a ball through a hoop? How in the hell can I miss what I had when I'm actually doing something that matters to others right now? How can I wish I could go back in time and stop my 18-year-old self from playing football to try and salvage my life as a basketball player when it would mean trading the lives of the people I've saved. What kind of a person does that make me?"

"Tony –" Ziva tried to jump in, but Tony held up a hand to stop her.

"No, you got me started, now let me finish."

Ziva nodded, her expression clearly showing her deep concern for her friend.

"It makes me a…selfish bastard. That's what it makes me. And a selfish, arrogant bastard at that, because now I'm just assuming that no one other than me could have saved those people. Which gets you thinking…how many people did my knee injury really affect? I mean, if I'd stayed out of the picture, off on some basketball court where I couldn't hurt anyone, would Kate still be alive?"

McGee flinched, but Tony kept going.

"Paula? Jenny? God knows anyone else on her protection detail wouldn't have let her go off the grid like that. And Jeanne? She'd probably be happily married to Mr. Right instead of nursing the mother of all broken hearts in the middle of Africa. So yeah, thinking about my basketball career, it hurts. But not just because of what I lost, but because of what it's done to everyone else. Sure, I won a freaking national championship, but it's done, in the past – definitely not something I'm ready to brag about. Is that what you wanted to know?

Tony was breathing hard, sweat starting to show up on his forehead, but as his heart rate calmed, his body seemed to deflate. He slumped into his seat, as if expecting his teammates to mock him or leave him after discovering the real truth of supposed superstar, Anthony DiNozzo.

"Is that what you really think, Tony, that sports mean nothing?" McGee finally said, trying to make sense of all of the thoughts his partner had finally let loose. This haunted his partner much more than he had expected. He'd expected Tony to be upset that half of his life had been stripped away from him and that he was being reminded of what he could have been. And Abby had hinted to them a little bit about the guilt he felt for wishing his life had turned out differently, even at the expense of the people he'd saved. But to know that he blamed a decision he'd made as an 18-year-old for the deaths of his friends? It was terrible.

Tony turned toward him. "Don't they? I mean what does it really matter if Ohio State won the NCAA tournament in 1990? People still lived or died, regardless. I was treated like a hero while people were suffering and dying. Sport is just that. Sport. It's not real life and dammit, I couldn't realize that."

"But, Tony-" McGee began, but Ziva, sensing his uncertainty, decided to step in.

"That is not the only thing that sports accomplish, Tony."

Tony looked at her, but the conviction in his eyes did not waver.

"I too, did not at first see their effect. I could not make sense of it – all I could see was life and death. But a life with such a narrow vision…it is not truly living." She looked down, as if remembering her own childhood.

"It is only existing. But you realized this at a young age, you found the meaning of sport and it became a part of you…whether you know it or not." She directed a meaningful look at her partner, who actually seemed to be listening. She continued, feeling the necessity of her message.

"When I, first watched the TV special, all I could see was mobs of people senselessly worshiping a simple game. What I did not yet see, was what that game represented.

"Tony, it is not meaningless that you won the championship, because yes everyone lived on no matter the outcome, but that is not the only thing that lived on. You gave people happiness. You gave children hope that their dreams can come true. You represented something that they felt they could truly believe in. And that belief, and those dreams, and that happiness, those things, really do matter in life. If you do not believe me, you only have to look to Charlie Watson to see what you mean to these people."

"Yeah, Tony. You made his day. Not just today, but back when you met him at that game. You changed his life. Because now he's a basketball coach and he's impacting the lives of all of those kids, and you had a part in that. That's…why it means something," McGee put in, hoping that his partner would see.

Tony stared at his friends. This hadn't been the reaction he was expecting. But he couldn't detect any insincerity in their tones, any pity in their assurances, just…conviction and maybe a tad bit of frustration, as if they were hoping Gibbs might come up and head slap him for being an idiot.

They were right, of course. Tony had always known that sports were more than a game, but it had become muddled with all of the horrible crime scenes and senseless violence that he had dedicated the last 17 years of his life to fighting. The death he'd seen had overridden the joy he'd gotten from memories of his past career, had convinced him that the fun of his previous life had held no meaning because in the end, the bad was always present as well.

He'd suppressed any longing for his previous life as frivolous desire for something juvenile, as selfish longing for a chance at stardom at the expense of the real meaning he'd found in law enforcement.

But he'd forgotten that though exceedingly different, both parts of his life could hold true meaning. That both parts of his life had made him the Anthony DiNozzo that his friends knew today. And that Anthony DiNozzo respected and trusted his friends enough to know that they were here to help him, and that they wouldn't lead him astray. He could trust them with his thoughts and know that they wouldn't run away screaming. It was time to open up, to accept both parts of his life – and his friends had just proven that they'd be right there alongside him.

"I told Charlie I'd come visit his team," he admitted quietly.

It was a simple statement, but a telling one. He was beginning to heal some of his wounds, to reconnect with his past. He saw both Ziva and McGee break out into smiles.

"He uh, sounded like it would mean a lot to them, and…I guess I was just reminded of why I played in the first place. You guys are right…it meant something and it still does. Which is why…I'm trying."

"You are a good man, Tony," Ziva said sincerely.

Tony's lip twitched as if he wanted to disagree, but he accepted the statement with a small nod, "Tha –"

"And you do not have to feel guilty for your feelings." Ziva continued, clearly not done. "It is…only natural to wish for something in your past that you can no longer have. It does not make you weak, or selfish. It means you are a human being."

"You're ri – " Tony started, but apparently McGee had something more to say

"She's right, Tony. You shouldn't have to feel ashamed about wishing you were still an athlete. It doesn't mean you wish you weren't an agent, it just means that you had something great, and that you still appreciate it now. You don't have to feel like you should hide it from everyone."

"Guys, I know," Tony finally got out, surprised when he wasn't cut off by another well-meaning speech. Maybe they needed to have these talks more often, this was turning into the longest car-ride ever. Both Ziva and McGee stopped thinking about the next words they were going to say and looked towards him.

"I know," he said, with a deliberate tone, hoping to convey just how much he really was beginning to understand. By the looks on their faces, it seemed to work.

"I've ah, been thinking about this for the past few months, and I swear, I'm getting there. It's just a little hard to change overnight. But…that's why I agreed to meet Charlie's team. It's a work in progress, ya know? But…I really do appreciate knowing I have my team behind me…sorry if I've been acting like a, well – "

"Stubborn donkey?" Ziva offered.

"Hmm, wasn't really going to go with that…I was thinking more like lost lamb?" he replied.

McGee snorted, but then his eyes grew wide as he looked past Tony, out the window and into the NCIS garage, where his a very un-amused Gibbs was staring into the van.

"Looks to me like I've got 3 lost lambs," Gibbs growled, hoping that the pride in his team wasn't showing through his glare.

Tony whipped around. "Boss! We were…just having a campfire…in the truck…in the garage…hey! Aren't you just glad we're all still alive after Ziva's driving? She almost killed us on the beltway but, small miracles…ok, shutting up now."

Gibbs didn't say anything, but narrowed his eyes and his three agents jumped into action, grabbing their packs and jumping out the door, ready to collect all of the evidence from the back of the truck.

Gibbs watched with amusement disguised as annoyance. He knew exactly what his agents had been doing, which was why he hadn't disturbed them. He knew that DiNozzo liked to bottle things up, and he had a feeling that the persistence of his teammates might just be enough to get him to open up. And he knew that Ziva and McGee needed to understand what was really bothering their partner so that an inadvertent comment didn't unintentionally hurt Tony's slow healing process.

Tony snuck glances at Gibbs out of the corner of his eye as they quickly arranged all of the evidence.

"Do you think he's going to kill us?" he whispered to his teammates dramatically.

"Worse, he'll probably put us back on call for the rest of the weekend," McGee replied.

"Ouch!" Tony cringed. "How long were we even in there?"

"Long enough," Ziva hissed.

Tony stopped for a moment. "Look guys, I just want you to know…"

"It is all right, Tony. We are partners." Ziva assured.

"Yeah Tony. If you ever need to talk about it, we're here. No matter how much Gibbs is ready to kill us," McGee said sincerely.

"You guys really need to start letting me finish my thought. I was going to say…this is all your fault – "

"Tony!" the twin exasperated exclamations came at once and Tony felt two sharp jabs in his ribs.

"Hey! I said to let me finish my thought!" Tony cried. He continued, despite the daggers they were shooting at him. "I was saying, even if this is all your fault…thanks. You guys are good friends – I'm pretty sure I needed that."

His thanks was met with twin nods, but no one was eager to revel in the moment, not with Gibbs striding towards them. "Now let's get going, quick, before Gibbs shoots us!" Tony hissed, closing the doors and leading the comical charge towards the elevator.

But just as the doors were about to close, it came.

"Hey! DiNozzo!" Tony dramatically flinched at the sharp order.

"I don't suppose any of you want to come with me?" he asked, but Ziva and McGee were already pushing him out of the elevator.

"Hey! Where did that teammate support you guys were just talking about go?"

"Sorry, Tony," McGee laughed.

"I will take excellent care of your letter opener," Ziva teased as the doors closed.

"Guys!" Tony called at the closed elevator doors. He stood there, this time sensing his boss' presence directly behind him.

"Still on my six, boss?" he offered weakly.

"Mmm-hmm." Gibbs firmly grabbed his arm, leading him towards the stairwell. "C'mon."

"Stairwell, boss? You do know there are cameras in there," Tony pretended he didn't know the real reason his boss wanted a private moment.

Gibbs shot him a look but continued into the stairwell, stopping on the first landing and turning to face his senior field agent.

The two men stood silently for a moment, looking at each other. Gibbs, trying to judge exactly what Tony was thinking, and Tony trying not to blink before his boss. They both failed.

"Good talk?" Gibbs finally asked, shocking Tony by being the first to speak.

"How do you always know, boss?" Tony shook his head.

"I don't. I'm asking you," Gibbs replied.

Tony regarded him for a moment, clearly puzzled. But in the end, he decided the truth was the best – if he didn't cave, McGee surely would. "Yeah, I think so," he responded – it was the most honest response he was able to offer at the moment.

Gibbs nodded, but he still didn't seem satisfied. His gaze continued to bore into Tony, who once again, eventually caved.

"Charlie invited me to visit his team," he said. Gibbs quirked his head to the side, still maintaining his intense stare. "I-uh, I said yes."

Gibbs's glare relaxed in intensity just barely and Tony thought he spotted his lips twitching into a smile, but still he didn't say anything.

Tony shifted uncomfortably, able to handle everything involved with Gibbs's second b, but nothing resembling "niceness" or praise from his boss. His eyes darted around the small space, landing on everything other than Gibbs's face. He finally settled on his shoes as he commented, "Ziva and McGee are good friends, boss."

"Yeah, they are."

Tony finally looked up, forcing himself back into the conversation…if you could call it that. Once again, silence took over between the two friends, and Tony began to realize that Gibbs had all day – he'd wait until he got his sit-rep, and it wouldn't affect him one bit.

"I told them everything," he admitted. "Well, not really told them, more like ranted until I realized I'd just given away everything." He chuckled darkly, "it's been a long time since I've made that mistake."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at the last statement, his expression demanding an explanation.

"Turns out, it wasn't a mistake though," Tony said, swallowing deeply before continuing. "They, uh, just listened, and then gave me their opinions. Which, to be honest with ya, Gibbs, sounded a lot like you…that is, if you talked."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"Apparently, they think I'm being too hard on myself for well…a lot. That I shouldn't feel guilty that I wish my knee hadn't snapped in two."

Gibbs didn't need to voice the Ya think, DiNozzo? It was evident in his expression.

"Ha, yeah, see, I told ya you'd agree," Tony smiled, but he had to finish this talk - the jokes would have to wait. "And they…helped remind me what basketball meant to me, and what it means to others."

"What you mean to others, DiNozzo," Gibbs corrected, poking him in the chest with his finger.

Tony looked a little taken aback, but he nodded nonetheless.

"Charlie wants you to come talk to his kids because of the way you played the game."

It took Tony a second to digest this, but for once, it was starting to make sense. "I gotcha, boss."

"Good."

Tony started to turn away, but Gibbs grabbed him. "Hey."

This time, Tony raised his eyebrows.

"Your knee injury – it didn't kill Kate. Or anyone. Ya got that?"

Tony nodded and made to walk up the last flight of stairs, but a squeeze of his arm stopped him in his tracks.

"I asked, do you got that?"

"Yes, boss." The grip on his arm was relinquished, but Gibbs' glare held him there.

"Listen to me, DiNozzo. Every choice we make alters our path in life. Every damn choice. You're no more at fault for Kate's death – or Paula's or Jenny's – because of a choice you made to play in some football game, than I am for taking that first damn case with Kate and putting her on my team.

"If you hadn't become an agent, Ari still would have killed Kate, Paula still would have sacrificed herself, and Jenny would still be gone – because none of that was your fault. But you're damn right things would be different. That kid, Kody, might have blown up his classroom, half the bastards we put away would still be roaming the streets, and I would still be at the bottom of the damn Potomac – because that, Tony is on you."

Tony nodded, trying to process everything his boss had said. Was this a world record? Should he have recorded the amazing performance by the functional mute, talking for a full thirty seconds? What was happenni—

And there it was, the inevitable head slap.

"I put you on my team for a reason, DiNozzo. It was a choice. And I'm damn glad I made it. You understand that?"

"Understood, boss."

There was a moment of silent communication of support and appreciation between the two men before it was inevitably broken by Tony.

"So you've never, ever, regretted hiring me?" he prodded.

Gibbs didn't even acknowledge him, moving quickly past his senior agent towards the door to the bullpen.

"Not even after that first time I stayed at your place?" Tony trotted up after him.

Opening the door, Gibbs shot him another look.

"Aha! So you did regret hiring me!"

"Nah, DiNozzo - but I did consider firing you."

"What! Gibbs, are you serious? Then you would have had to fire Abby as well!" Tony chased after Gibbs into the bullpen. Ziva and McGee looked up curiously.

"Gibbs is firing Abby?" Ziva questioned.

"Nope," Gibbs said, sitting down at his desk and taking a sip of his coffee as DiNozzo came to plead his case at his desk.

"But boss! It was her idea to try and get your boat out of the basement!"

"You tried to get Gibbs's boat out of the basement?" McGee asked incredulously.

"Yep!" Abby came bounding in. "Tony was so close! He got it into smaller pieces and got it all the way outside before he realized he scratched up Gibbs' entire house dragging it around. I've never seen the Bossman get quite so colorful. I thought Tony was a goner for sure." She slung her arm around Tony.

"Hey! You were there, watching me do it the whole time and you didn't say anything. I was technically working under your orders!" Tony glared at Abby.

"Which is why I was ready to beg him to let you stay!" she exclaimed, giving Tony a playful slap on the bicep. "But I didn't even have to, because Bossman has a big, forgiving heart," she bubbled with affection.

Everyone trained their shocked expressions on Gibbs. They all waited for the explanation of why he hadn't just fired his new agent after he'd destroyed his house – after all, no matter what Abby thought, Gibbs wasn't really known for being a forgiving type.

Gibbs looked directly at Tony. "I made a choice. And I stick with my choices."

The murmured "I gotcha, boss" was too quiet to be heard, but Gibbs knew Tony had finally truly heard him – and he was well on his way to healing.

End Tag 1

Once again, I would like to thank everyone for reading. Please leave a review if you enjoyed, and if you have any ideas for tags, send them my way! Again, I am so sorry for the long delay in posting - I will go back to my regular process of waiting to post til it's finished from now on. You have all been such amazing readers and I just cannot thank you enough!

As for more stories, I will begin working on the tag that involves Tony's visit to Charlie's team as soon as I get the time. I will keep you updated on my progress on my profile as much as I can. I will also be resuming my work on my serial killer story, which I would love to post by the beginning of season 11, as long as it is finished. It's about 16 chapters in, and will be close to 30 chapters. Thank you all so much for all of your support and I can't wait to get back to writing more frequently!

Thank you for reading, and please do review if you have the time!

Peas,

Stephanie