Baby Girl

If tears could build a stairway,
And memories a lane,
I'd walk right up to Heaven
And bring you home again.
~Author Unknown

Anthony 'Tony' D. DiNozzo stared at the phone with a blank look. His hand was hovering above the white piece of electronic, tense and shuddering. Could he do this? He had to; Tony didn't know what else to do, really.

As if the young man was spell-bound and washed away in a blurry haze, the hand descended on the white plastic; fingers curling and picking the phone up. The summing tone tore through the heavy silence, making the tan high-school-kid flinch slightly.

He punched in the numbers slowly, his heart racing faster and faster. This couldn't be good for anyone's blood pressure, Tony thought absently. What he was about to tell his father would absolutely tear apart that tiny sliver of peace they had left.

This was not good.

Surprisingly, his father answered his phone himself that day. Tony felt his heart thud to a small halt, before galloping on like a mustang would on the wild planes.

"Hello?"

Tony gave a shuddering sigh, his eyes closed.

"Dad..."

"Junior, is that you?"

"Dad, I need some help..."

"What now, then, Junior? Another prank, are they expelling you? Do you need money?"

Tony so badly wished it was any of these things. His heart bled, his brain screamed and his gut felt like ice. He hadn't felt this bad since he pushed little Derek off the swings when he was seven and the poor boy broke his nose.

"No, dad, it's something else," Tony whispered. He dragged a hand through his hair, making the short ends stand to attention – he really needed a shower, he noted.

"I'm not liking where this is going, Junior. What is going on?"

"You remember I told you about Lisa, right?"

There was a heavy silence across the line. Tony could just imagine his father's frown, the way he would be rubbing his finger – where his multiple wedding bands had once rested, and many more would rest. Tony fancied he could actually hear his father's mind whirring a mile a minute.

A heavy sigh came across the line.

"She's pregnant, isn't she?"

Tony's gut seemed to explode, nearly making him throw up.

It wasn't the fact that Lisa was pregnant that was making him so sick, no; he feared what his father would do. All through his life, Anthony Senior and Anthony Junior had had a tense relationship. There were never any abuse; his father had always been pretty decent to him – but the fact that Tony had barely seen his father, at all, had made its toll. It didn't help that what Tony was interested in didn't even tickle Senior's awareness. They were too different, their personalities differed too much.

Though, the fact that he had gotten his 18 year old girlfriend pregnant, when he himself was just 18 years old as well, didn't do his mental health any good. He loved Lisa, but he was pretty sure they weren't going to last very long after high school – and especially as Tony attended Rhode Island Military School and she another high school on the other side of Rhode Island.

But now he guessed they had to make it work – if she decided to have the child. He couldn't honestly say he wanted to have a child as an 18 year old, immature jock. He wasn't even sure he wanted children at all, really. He had always had this phobia for small children – sticky fingers, running noses and screaming was not his thing, at all!

"Junior?"

Tony startled out of his thoughts, almost dropping the phone in the process.

"Yes sir...dad. She's pregnant."

Tony heard his father sigh on the other end.

"I'm pulling you out of school for a while, Anthony, to deal with this. I need you to act appropriately, and behave like the well raised man you are. We are going to talk to this girl and her family," There was a heavy pause where Tony heard his father shuffle around papers on his desk. "I will have no more indiscretions from you here on out, is that clear, Junior?"

Tony swallowed drily, waiting for the inevitably atomic bomb to drop.

"Yes sir."

"I'll call the school. I can't believe you got yourself into this much trouble in Military School, Junior. I'm very disappointed."

The click sounded like a gunshot to Tony's ears. There had been no bomb, no explosion of fury. He held the buzzing phone in front of his face, looking at it with fright, wonder and absolute terror.

His father had reacted much more humane than Tony would ever have hoped for; now he just hoped his father would follow his own advice and behave appropriately.

Tony stared in wonder at the child. Tony stared in wonder at his child. He had created her; she was a part of him – she was absolutely beautiful... red, wrinkly and squishy looking. Tony stroked one finger down her puffy cheek, looking for any kind of resemblance. He found none.

Still, he didn't doubt Lisa's faithfulness for one moment. She was his girl, his sweetheart. She was an absolutely kind-hearted girl who smiled and laughed all day long. Her heart-shaped face starred in his dreams quite often, her rose coloured cheeks and pink lips, not to mention her wicked sense of humour – they shared their love for pranks.

Her eyes were the most beautiful blue that glowed in the light. Tony had asked her once if her family was from the north, from Scandinavia, considering her whole family had light skin, blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. He hoped his baby girl would take after Lisa, he really did.

He hoped she would turn out to be a true Viking, just like her mother. Lisa had done really well, she was strong – she had pushed through, never taking any crap from her school mates, never backing down to his father's harsh accusations and demands. She had held her head up high, never allowing anyone to look down on her.

Tony found himself admiring her just for the fight she put up against his father. He smiled a little at the multiple fights they had had – but Tony thought his father actually liked her. Tony had caught him smiling once, when they both had been in his presence; and that was no small feat on her part.

The child's eyes fluttered softly, making Tony pull his finger back quickly. He had no idea what to do with a newborn infant, what if she started to cry?

Her eyes opened slowly – barely open at all, really. Tony peered on curiously; whose eye colour would she inherit? Tony's brow crinkled in confusion when all he could see was a waste black colour. He stretched his hand forward again, lightly stroking her tiny hand. She had nails, such tiny, beautiful nails – who would have know?

Tony jumped as the door opened, making a wash of bright light swamp the dimmed room. Tony gave a loud breath as he spotted one of the nurses; at least his father had had the decency to wait until the morning to come and visit – that was, if he came at all.

"You should get some sleep," The nurse murmured kindly, walking over to the plastic crib to take a look.

Tony nodded numbly, watching as the nurse quickly walked over to where Lisa was sleeping.

"Why are her eyes all black?"

The nurse smiled kindly at him, humming warmly as she fixed Lisa's covers. "Most newborns have dark eyes, their eyes colour isn't finished developing yet; you'll see pretty soon though, time will fly, don't worry," The nurse said before she patted him on the shoulder and walked out.

Yes, he was sure time would fly; his life was forever changed – and for some reason, he didn't mind.

"Daddy, look daddy!"

Tony looked over his four year old daughter's shoulder. She smiled up at him, her cheeks flushed and a big smile spread across her angelic face. She pointed proudly to her drawing, where a collection of colourful blobs and shapes were drawn with soft crayons.

"It's beautiful, honey," Tony said, squatting down beside her to take a closer look.

She nodded her head forcefully, clutching a pink crayon in her hand. She pointed to the purple blob, vaguely looking like a human being, "That's you, daddy," She said, excitement rolling off her in waves.

"Yes, it looks just like daddy!" Tony said in shock, "How sweet of you." He kissed her on the forehead, rising to his feet.

Tony walked quietly over to the desk in the hallway, fishing up the camera; Tony loved taking pictures of his little girl, it was one of his favourite past times.

"Bessie, look here," Tony said, the camera poised and ready.

Bessie, or Elizabeth Evelyn DiNozzo as her full names was, look over at her father, smiling brightly at the camera. She had always had to pose for her father, and had come to love it; Lisa joked that Bessie was becoming just as vain as her father, at the tender age of four years old.

Tony let her continue colouring as he put the camera away.

The years had flown by; his time at college was soon over, and he would be graduating with a degree in Phys Ed. Not the most useful of degrees, but at least he was a college graduate; it was more than he had hoped for. The years since Lisa became pregnant had been difficult.

Both he and Lisa had moved away to different schools, and Bessie had stayed with her maternal grandparents in the beginning. As Lisa became more independent, Bessie moved in with her – Tony tried to see her as often as possible; driving miles just to see her a couple of hours on weekends and spending time with her on holidays.

And then there were times such as this, where he got to have Bessie with him, all alone; just the two of them together. He loved those weekends; he treasured his time with his beloved baby. Soon, though; soon both he and Lisa would be finished with school, and they could find a place where they could be closer together.

He watched on as Bessie ripped the paper off the block, picking up the crayons again, ready to make another drawing.

She had blonde hair; so light blonde it could almost be called white. Her skin was porcelain, with red cheeks and red lips. She looked like she had been out in the biting cold wind all day long, and Tony loved it. Her eyes were huge, doll-like and was in the shade of hazel green; his eyes. She was the cutest thing that had ever graced his life; the most important.

He smiled at her concentrated frown, her bangs hanging down into her eyes. She brushed her hair away absently, biting on the crayon. Her hair was done in a couple of crooked pigtails, ending at her chin.

She looked up at him, waving him over, "Daddy, you draw too," she said.

"Of course, honey."

He had never thought himself to be a very good person. Tony had always seen himself as selfish and immature – maybe that had changed somewhat with the birth of his daughter, but he still saw himself as a selfish person. He had never been really interested in the evening news; never really cared about what was happening around the world; all the agony and pain in the world.

He had been sheltered and spoiled by his mother when she was alive, and after that he had been sent to private schools and been isolated that way. He grew up into a confused teenager who got into trouble, but still he didn't care to know about the world's problems.

That all took a drastic change when one day, a year after having graduated college and moved to New York with his daughter and her mother. They were renting an apartment, living the life with their five year old daughter. Lisa was working and enjoying herself, and Tony was taking on odd jobs here and there. He had no idea what to do with himself.

He had brought Bessie with him to the park, wanting to get some fresh air. The day had been bright and warm; the sky blue and the sun yellow. Bessie had been enjoying herself with a ball, kicking it back and forth with a couple of other children.

Tony had watched, smiling at his daughter's boyish tendencies. He figured she would turn out to be a real tomboy.

The bright mood was shattered when he'd heard a woman scream.

It wasn't a normal scream, not the ones you would normally hear in a park – the scream was different, full of agony, pain, sorrow, desperation.

The whole park seemed to freeze; every parent seemed to gravitate towards their children, clutching them protectively. Tony was no different; he picked Bessie up, holding her tight to his chest.

The women screeched again as a couple of men came running up to her. Someone must have alerted the police, minutes later a whole squad of them came barrelling forth. People backed away, weary and frightened.

It didn't take long before the crowd broke away. At that point, more official looking people were swarming around the scene, an ambulance had wheeled in beside the woman and several people were running in and out of the shallow woods around them. Tony could see a white sheet lying among the bushes. His stomach seemed to plummet down into his toes; this was the kind of things you saw on TV, that cheesy detective show.

The sheet covered a small lump; a lump, Tony thought, looked like a human form – an undeniably small human form. The woman was held back by a straight-faced police officer, her arms stretched towards the sheet, tears rolling down her face, her screams still as shrill and painful.

Tony walked away quickly after that, carrying Bessie all the way, refusing to let her walk on her own. He wasn't going to let go of his baby anytime soon.

That was the day everything changed for Tony. That was the day his eyes opened; he started noticing things he had never seen before. He started noticing awful things as he walked down the street. His eyes wouldn't leave the evening news.

That was the day he decided what to do with the rest of his life.

Tony sighed tiredly as he parked his car in the driveway. The house looming before him was dark, indicating that both Lisa and Bessie had gone to bed, probably a long time ago. He sighed again as he dragged himself out of the car, locking it securely before walked up the creaking steps to the front porch.

He mentally reminded himself to fix that step that gave-away the most. It was an old house, full of weak floor-boards and peeling paint. In spite of this, both Tony and Lisa had fallen in love with the rustic looking, two-story building. They had painted it a bright yellow and Lisa had laboured over the garden for weeks, before it looked somewhat lived in.

He carefully made his way inside, trying his best not to wake Bessie. She was a scarily light sleeper, awaking by the smallest noise – and that included the sound of her beloved father arriving home from a gruelling day at Philadelphia police department.

Tony carefully put his gun in the safe and locked it tight, as he always did. Even though he knew Bessie was smart enough to stay away from his gun, he locked it. Curiosity killed the cat, after all.

He walked into the kitchen, flicking on the light.

"Hi dad," a voice whispered.

Tony jumped violently, his hand going to the now-empty shoulder holster. He turned his head and spotted Bessie sitting at the kitchen table, eating cookies with a smug smile on her face.

"Elizabeth, don't do that!" He whispered back forcefully, clutching his chest, waiting for his heart to calm down.

"Wants some cookies?" Bessie asked with her mouth full as she offered the bag.

"Sure, why not," Tony sighed and sat down besides her, grabbing the bag with a withered glare. She smiled in return and stuffed another cookie into her mouth.

"So, what are you doing up so late?" Tony asked as he studied a cookie; they were chocolate chip, he noted.

"Waiting for you, of course," Bessie replayed, kicking her legs back and forth beneath the table, "I snuck down her after mum fell asleep," She said.

Tony sighed as he ate another delicious snack. This was becoming a regular thing.

Bessie had been down at the station a couple of weeks ago with Lisa, to deliver some lunch for Tony; unfortunately, they had arrived at a very bad time. They had witnessed a nasty scene where one of the arrested had gone a little crazy, beating down officers like flies. Tony, being the hero he was, had jumped the guy, knocking him into the ground and holding the struggling man down until the others came and helped. It hadn't been very dramatic, really; but Bessie had been frightened nonetheless.

After that, she had been waiting for him when he got off from work, always anxious to see if he was whole and healthy.

"I'm fine, Bessie, don't worry," He said warmly, dragging his ten year old daughter into a hug. She sighed sadly, resting her head on his shoulder. Slowly her eyes closed and her breath evened out. Tony carefully picked her up, and carried her up the stairs towards her bedroom. He tucked her into bed, and sat down beside her, carefully carding his fingers though her blonde tresses.

His eyes roamed the room, a smile on his face. She was a real tomboy; posters of basketball teams and dirty clothes strewn around. Her shelves were full of different balls, basket, football, soccer, baseball, etc. Bats and gloves were thrown onto her desk.

Though, Lisa had made sure Bessie appreciated girly things as well; in one corner there was a chest of pink fuzzy stuffed animals, and posters of kittens and puppies graced her walls as well. Her drawings were carefully nailed onto a board above her desk, and around her room pictures of her with friends and family members where strategically placed.

"Are you coming to bed soon?"

Tony looked up at Lisa standing in the doorway, smiling. She was still as beautiful as always; her blonde hair and blue eyes, her slim build and pale skin. Tony knew he loved her, but he wasn't in love with her, and she wasn't in love with him either. They were friends, their shared a bed and a house – and a daughter, but they weren't lovers.

He cared for her, he treasured her, but he couldn't lie to her – and she couldn't to him.

They had decided early on that they would live together, for Bessie's sake; but they both agreed that their romance was dead. He had never regretted that decision; the rule was if they met someone new, they would find a new deal.

They had lived together for five years now, and there had never been any problems.

Tony didn't care what their families thought; he didn't care if it was unconventional and weird. He was happy, and so was his family, so it didn't mean anything.

"Yes," he whispered and got up, following her into their shared bedroom.

.

Tony sipped the ice cold beer calmly, watching as his daughter was kicking a ball back and forth with a friend on the front lawn. Lisa sat next to him, working on one of her paintings. Her hair was in a messy bun and her face was speckled with paint. Tony smiled amusedly to himself as he put the beer down on the table.

Bessie was laughing at something her friend had said. Her friend, Lucas from next door, grinned wickedly at her and kicked the ball over the fence.

"Oh, why'd you do that, Lucas?" Bessie groaned in mock anger. Lucas only laughed at her, pointing at the ball as it bounced over the street.

"Go get it, Lizzy," He sang with smile on his face.

She grumbled at the nickname – she had always been called Bessie, and hadn't heard anything else until she met Lucas, who meant that he was so special, he needed to have his own nickname for her.

She quickly ran across the street and got the ball.

"Don't do it again, ok, Lucas. It's annoying," she scolded.

Tony frowned at this, having told both of them time and again not to go out of the garden.

"Bessie," He called, "Don't go out in the street."

"Fine, dad, don't worry," she called back, waving her hand at him, smiling.

Lisa looked up and smiled at her daughter, before she again focused on the painting, chuckling to herself. Tony threw her a weak glare. "You know, you should be a little more firm with her," He said, rolling his eyes at Lisa.

Lisa threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, Tony, I did never think I would hear that from you," she chuckled.

Tony chuckled along with her as he took a sip of his beer.

He picked the camera up and pointed it at the two kids. "Bessie, Lucas, look over here," He shouted.

"No, dad, please, no pictures," Bessie complained, waving at father.

"Come on, Lizzy, don't be a drag," Lucas smirked at her, throwing his arm around her shoulder, posing for the camera. Bessie couldn't help it, Lucas had that effect on her, and she threw her head back and laughed. She smiled at the camera, eager for her father to finish.

Tony sat back, content now that he had gotten his daily photo of his baby.

"You probably have a hundred photo albums of her now, Tony," Lisa teased, pinching his arm.

Tony laughed gaily, knowing she was spot on; he had been collecting and taking pictures of his daughter since the day she was brought out of the hospital, and his father had given him his first camera as a present.

The day was warm and bright, birds singing in the trees and people working in their gardens. The mood was lively and warm; like something out of a picture.

It wasn't meant to last.

The warm, bright atmosphere disappeared in a flash; just like the day in the park in New York. A scream cut through the air; bringing goose bumps up Tony's spine. Tony heard the squeal of tires, and a sickening thump before everything went silent.

So silent...

Time seemed to slow down, the air seemed to turn to liquid in his lungs, his stomach froze, his brain turned to mush – yet, somehow, he rose from the chair and ran down the front lawn. It was like everything was happening in slow motion, like all the colours had been drained from the world.

She wasn't moving.

She wasn't breathing.

She was just lying there.

No... NO!

Tony fell on his knees beside his daughter, desperately feeling for a pulse.

The car sped away, the wheels burning the asphalt.

Lisa's scream tore through him like a poisoned dagger would, he screamed something, couldn't really understand what he was saying; he clutched her to him, digging his finger into her neck, searching for that damned pulse. He stared at her pale face as the bright red blood spread beneath her. He could feel tears run down his face, he could feels his hear burst and fall to pieces.

He started doing chest compressions. Absently, he noticed Lucas standing beside them; his face was drawn, his eyes huge and the whole boy shook form head to toe. Tony couldn't care; all he could do was pump.

Pump, pump, pump, pump...

He could hear an ambulance coming closer; he didn't stop – she had to live, she couldn't die.

The paramedics rushed around him, dragging him off her and crowded around with fancy equipment. Lisa shook as she curled her arms around him, her sobs so raw and hurt it almost made Tony break completely.

Tony dragged his eyes away from the struggling paramedics and over to Lucas. The boy had crumpled; his head was in between his legs, his back straining with sobs. Tony walked over to the child, crumpling down beside him. Lisa stood beside them, clutching her chest as the paramedics quickly lifted her lifeless baby into the ambulance.

Not much later, a police cruiser came. Tony stood shakily as the paramedics said some rushed words to the police officer and drove off, Lisa having hopped in after the gurney.

Tony knew these cops, he worked with them. Oh, how he hated the looks of sympathy in their eyes.

Tony didn't let go of the sobbing boy, clutching him to his side as the two men walked towards him.

Everything after that was just one big blur of muted colours and sounds... One big blur.

The sun cast burning, merciless, rays down on the packed ground; the grass was brown and dead, lifeless due to the lack of water. Tony couldn't help but compare the dead grass to his heart – lifeless, lacking the will to continue.

There wasn't a single cloud on the sky; not even birds ventured out of the lovely shade the trees provided. It was hot, extremely hot – but Tony didn't care. Sweat ran down his back, soaking through the black shirt he wore. He guessed he wasn't the only one this was happening to.

People were gathered in a loose circle around the coffin. The white wood gleamed in the harsh sunlight, making Tony blink at it dully. The priest was nattering on, speaking about his precious daughter like he had known her; but he hadn't, he hadn't known his amazing, beautiful baby girl.

People stood with their heads bend down, all clad in sombre black clothes – covering every inch of their bodies. Tony guessed half of them would rip their coats off the minute the service was over. Tony knew he wouldn't. He would suffer; he deserved to suffer. He hadn't protected his baby.

His sweet, cherished, beloved, wonderful, beautiful daughter, was dead. Hit by a car walking across the damn street, chasing that damned ball.

The coffin was lowered into the ground, and Lisa broke. She had been surprisingly steady beside him, standing with a stone face, letting her tears roll down unstopped.

It broke as she watched her only and beloved daughter's coffin getting laid in the ground. She clutched Tony to her, her sobs sounding too loud in the oppressing silence. People gazed away, letting the grieving mother cry in some sort of peace.

Tony felt a warm hand settle on his shoulder, and he looked over at his father's grey face. It had meant the world to Tony that is absent father had made time to go to his only grandchild's funeral.

No matter how absent and irritated Senior had been, Bessie had loved him very much, and every time she would see him she'd give him a bone-crushing hug and chatter away like she always did. Tony knew Senior had loved Bessie, even though he had complained about the circumstances of her making.

Senior looked like he was about to feint, his eyes were huge and watery, his lips was pressed into a thin line, like he was pressing tears or screams down – Tony could sympathise.

The moment the doctors came out of the Trauma Room, Tony had known. He had never felt so crushed in his entire life; like someone had ripped his guts out with their bare hands and stamped on them. He had screamed, that much he remembered, but after that he couldn't remember much.

The service ended, and people drifted to their separate cars. Tony, Lisa, Senior and Lisa's parents remained, looking down on the coffin. The priest stood quietly in the background, along with the personnel who would cover the grave.

Lisa let go of him, turning towards her mother. Tony felt like the only anchor that held him in place let go; it felt like he was flying above everything, looking down.

"Come, Junior, let's go," Senior whispered weakly, steering his son away from the gaping hole in the ground.

Tony let himself get steered away, taking one last look at the coffin, quietly counting the red roses that rested atop of it. Six gleaming roses shone in the light, making Tony gasp quietly in sorrow. He turned his head towards the cars.

Lucas looked back at him, his childish features swollen. He looked like a little, lost boy, holding his mother's hand. In his hand he clutched a picture, Tony saw. He knew what picture the boy was holding. It was the picture Tony had taken the same day his daughter was killed.

Tony had given the duplicate to him, hoping it would comfort the child.

Lucas waved sadly at him, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. Tony nodded to him, giving him a wavering smile in return.

Lucas' mother dried her own tears before she gently dragged her son to the car.

Tony hand slipped into his pocket, gently plucking the picture out, holding it up to look at. The picture showed Lucas and Bessie, both grinning at the camera, a soccer-ball lying in front of them. Lucas had his arm around her shoulder, his black hair in stark contrast to her blonde, Lucas' dark chocolate skin glowed beside her pale porcelain, and both their eyes shone with mirth.

Yes, he hoped the picture would help Lucas; he knew it wouldn't help himself.

Tony grunted as he tried to fish up his keys from the pocket. It wasn't easy to juggle a pizza box, a six-pack of beers and other groceries at the same time as you tried to unlock an ill-fitting door – ill-fitting as in it didn't fit the door frame; it was too big, and as such, it was horribly difficult to open, or close, for that matter.

Giving up, Tony dumped everything on the floor and finally, finally, got the damn door open. He dragged everything inside, dumping it on the kitchen counter. He stashed it quickly away in the right cupboards, before he kicked off his shoes. He placed the gun in the safe, locking it tightly, as was his habit, and sank into the sofa.

This was a typical evening in the DiNozzo bachelor pad.

Oh, how far he had fallen – a thought that danced through Tony's mind quite often, at this point. He sighed sadly, flicking on the TV, hoping to find something intriguing he could lose his mind in. He took sip of the beer and a bite of the pizza, numbly watching some cheesy chick-flick.

He fell asleep that way, and woke that way – just like every other day and night.

He groaned sadly as he woke, wincing when he moved his head – he really needed to stop falling asleep on the sofa, it wasn't doing his neck any good at all. He numbly showered, drank some coffee, unlocked his gun and drove to work.

He parked his car, and as always, before he made his way inside BPD, he put on the fakest, most genius mask – he did not need his partner to start asking questions he didn't want to answer.

It had been roughly two years since... that day.

Two gruesome years that had aged Tony probably ten years in mind and body.

Lisa had said, soon after the funeral, that she wanted to move in with her parents; she needed their support, and honestly, Tony didn't blame her. She was a total wreck after what happened, and Tony saw she needed help he couldn't give her. They had parted ways, promising to keep in touch. And they had, to some degree. They wrote letters, mails and had weekly phone calls. It wasn't the same as before, but then it would have been too painful to see her every day, seeing his daughter's features shining back at him.

He knew Lisa felt the same way; they had come to an agreement. Every year on her birthday, they would meet at her grave. She had been buried in Long Island, alongside Tony's mother Gabrielle DiNozzo. Lisa had felt that it was important that Bessie be buried with family, and Tony had been too numb to say otherwise if he had minded – which he didn't.

Tony sighed as the memories yet again assaulted him. He really needed to call his shrink again; it was quite some times since he had been now. He had never believed in psychotherapy, until he was in a situation where he felt that nothing could bring him out of that black, destructive mood, and in desperation, had sought out a professional.

Still, he was weary of it, and didn't honestly feel very proud of the fact that he had to get help from a stranger. One more session, he promised himself, and then he was done.

Tony got out of his beloved car, running his hand across the bonnet before he locked her up. With the mask firmly in place, Tony marched into BPD with his usual swagger, winking and smiling to every female and telling jokes with every male. This was the 'new' Tony; the Tony who supposedly had always been a carefree bachelor with witty charm and who was fantastic in bed.

He had on purpose made his own reputation in the department, to draw attention away from his, sometimes, scary mood swings and anger-management issues.

"Hi, Tony, sleep well?"

Tony smiled at his partner's usual greeting, nodding his head in an affirmative way.

"That's good, 'cause, you know, a lot to do today," Danny said mock-cheerful way, waving his hand towards the huge bunch of paperwork placed on their desks.

Tony groaned sadly, why was there so much damned paperwork attached to everything?

.

"A navy cop?" Tony mused to himself later that day. He gazed out the window, swirling the cup of coffee in his hand. Danny hummed distractedly, writing furiously on a piece of paper, not even looking up as Tony sighed again.

"This day turned out much more complicated than I needed it to be," Tony said quietly, throwing his feet up on the cramped desk, leaning back with his hands folded behind his head.

"No shit, Sherlock," Danny grumbled as he started on another bunch of papers.

"Aw, hell, I need some coffee," Danny grumbled and walked away, leaving Tony to wonder about the new mystery that had sprung itself into his life.

.

He hadn't expected this.

Tony had learned the hard way to expect the unexpected, but this, he hadn't expected.

It hurt, it really hurt. His partner, and close friend, had betrayed his trust on a level only someone within law-enforcement could betray trust. Tony remembered several times where he had complained and told Danny about how pathetic dirty cops are; and the man who nodded and agreed whole-heartedly, was a dirty cop.

Danny was dirty.

Tony didn't feel his heart break; he didn't feel his stomach turn to lead or any other cheesy feeling. Tony had, for the lack of better words, felt empty. It was just another disappointment and crushing effect in his life. Though, Tony didn't know if he could be crushed farther down anymore – he had reached rock-bottom.

Tony felt tired; he was tired of feeling such strong emotions, day in and day out. Tony was exhausted with everything; he was sick of having to act fine and satisfy everyone in his life. Danny had helped him, even if the man himself hadn't known it; Danny had helped keeping the dark emotions in check. Now, that support was gone, and replaced with a bitter taste of betrayal.

Tony yanked his front door open harshly, ignoring the dangerous squeak. He slammed it shut, and, for once, carrying his gun with him into the bedroom. He placed it on the bedside table, his eyes never leaving it.

He had lost his faith – of course he had known there was corruption within the police forces throughout the country; the world, really. He just hadn't believed his partner could be dirty, without him noticing.

Maybe being a detective wasn't for him; he obviously wasn't very good at it. And honestly, he didn't know if he could go through that again. He could move on, get another partner, and then get crushed again – another dirty cop, right?

Tony sneered to himself; damned this retched world, he hissed to himself, ripping his clothes off.

He marched into the bathroom, turning on the hot water forcefully. Soon steam was rolling around the tiny space, making the mirror foggy and water to drip down the toilet. Tony stepped under the water, letting it beat out the kinks in his neck. He sighed sadly, resting his forehead on the tiles.

Tony stared at the white tile, trailing the faint cracks and the specks of dried shampoo. His head felt heavy, his eyes burned with exhaustion. Though he knew he sorely needed sleep, he couldn't get himself to leave the shower.

The water turned cold and the steam ceased to exist. Eventually though, Tony stumbled out of the shower. The temperature had plummeted, making goose bumps travel across his body. Tony could only stare in the mirror with a blank face. Not bothering to dry off or get dressed, Tony stumbled to bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

.

Tony stood in the park when his phone rang. He had originally decided to ignore the damned piece of technology, but something made him glance down at the caller-id.

He had expected to see Danny's name, or even the Captain's number flashing across the tiny screen. But instead, "Navy Cop" was written in black letters against the blue background.

Tony found himself curios. Agent Gibbs had left for Washington the day after he had followed Tony to Danny's apartment. The older man had nodded once and walked out the door of the crowded police station – Tony didn't even think for a second that he would ever see the Special Agent again.

Tony flicked the phone open, gazing over the children as they played on the swings. He watched as parents ran after their kids, shoving caps down over their ears. It was quite cold out, making frosty clouds float in front of mouths and noses.

"Hello?"

"DiNozzo, I need you to come into D.C," Gibbs ordered.

Tony couldn't help but grin at the other man's tone of voice, this was one tough cookie.

"Why is that, Special Agent Gibbs?"

"You'll find out; tomorrow alright with you?"

Tony gave his consent and clapped the phone shut with a curios feeling in his stomach. Tony continued to watch over the shivering parents and the bright-cheeked children for a while, before he made his way 'home', if the drafty apartment could be called as much.

.

Tony sighed tiredly, leaning all his weight on the bar-top. He stared into the glass in his hand, tracing the lines in the ice-cube. He felt himself slump even more forward, his chin almost touching the less-than-clean surface. He was exhausted; not only was he physically spent, but his mind sorely needed a vacation as well.

Actually, he had the time to take a vacation; his resignation letter had been mailed, and his saved-up vacation time was in full effect – he wouldn't need to take another step into BPD.

Tony figured Gibbs wouldn't kill him if he didn't start straight away, the man couldn't be that heartless. Though, after listening to all the horror stories while he had been waiting in HR of the NCIS headquarters, he wasn't too sure about that.

Damn, everything had happened so fast! One minute he had been standing in a park in Baltimore, the next he was being head-slapped by a grouchy older man who all but threw a job in his face.

Tony swirled the liquid in the glass, staring at it with far-away eyes. This meant he had to move; he had to find a place to live, move all his junk with him to D.C. and he needed somewhere safe to park his beloved car. He felt the exhaustion start to creep up slowly, making him feel like he had weights hanging down his arms.

He must look like the most depressing human being in the world, sitting at a bar like this, Tony thought absently.

"Hi."

Tony startled slightly, whipping his head around to look at the person who had slipped down on the stool beside him. Agent Gibbs looked different outside of work hours. His clothes looked lived in, and his face was surprisingly softer than it had been in the harsh over-headlight in the NCIS workroom. Gibbs nodded to the bartender, and settled down beside Tony with a peculiar expression on his face. It looked like he was contemplating something – like he was having a battle of wills.

"Hi yourself," Tony mumbled as he continued to watch the salt-and-pepper-haired man.

The other man's face quickly turned into a softer version of the blank work-mask as the bartender came over.

"Water," Gibbs said. He glanced over to see Tony staring at him weirdly, "I'm driving, DiNozzo," He sighed, a sarcastic twirl to his lip. Tony only nodded dumbly.

They sat in silence, letting the buzz of the bar around them wash away the remaining awkwardness that was between them.

Tony knew why the man was here. Leroy Jethro Gibbs had obviously read his file. What surprised Tony, though, was that Gibbs didn't show the usual sympathy and horror that most people did when they found out. Gibbs' eyes shone with sadness, and nothing more. Tony could only guess as to what had made Gibbs able to react like this instead of the usual 'I'm so sorry!' he normally would get.

"You know, don't you?" Tony murmured, sipping his drink carefully. It did no good getting too drunk now.

Gibbs sat in silence for a while, his eyes focused on his clasped hands. Finally he looked into Tony's expecting, yet empty, eyes.

"Yeah," He said, not breaking the stare.

Tony sighed, waiting for the other shoe to drop. His former bosses had always started on a speech about how they needed to be cautious about him as an employee; you never knew these days how people would react to such a traumatic event in your life, and you couldn't have police officers going around and taking out their anger on innocent people – even though these people may not be innocent in other charges. Police brutality was no joke, no matter to what degree it was acted out in.

After a while Tony understood that Gibbs wasn't going to say anything else on the matter. They sat in silence once more, both of them absently listening to the TV above the bar.

Gibbs got up from the stool, patting Tony on the shoulder.

"Come now," He said, "You need a place to sleep tonight."

Tony wanted to protest, but he couldn't find it in himself to open his mouth. He stared at Gibbs in puzzlement; this stranger had offered his home to him, and had given him some sort of comfort no one understood he needed, not even Tony himself. Tony didn't understand it; the man acted like a kindred spirit – and maybe he was? Tony decided then and there to respect the other man's privacy, and not ask why.

Tony followed Gibbs numbly out to the truck. He found himself dosing as they drove, and never before had he let himself fall asleep like this in front of a stranger. Tony couldn't put words to the feelings Gibbs provoked – he had never trusted someone on instinct before. There had to be a first time for everything, right?

Tony honestly loved his new apartment – or newish, as it was about a year and half ago since he moved to DC. But, this morning, Tony couldn't say he loved his dwelling very much. He didn't care that the elevator was out of order, and he didn't care that his grumpy neighbour banged on the wall every other hour – but, Tony did care when the boiler blew. It left him, and everyone else in the building, actually, without power or hot water.

The only thing he could think of doing was pack a bag and head over to the office. At least he had some sort of shelter. Tony groaned in frustration just thinking about the unforgivable desk chair he would be sleeping in. He got enough of that piece of furniture during work hours, thank you very much!

Tony bit back a string of curses, and dragged the damn bag out into his beloved car, hoping his bad karma wouldn't make it break down on the way to the Navy Yard.

The streetlights flashed by as Tony sped down the road, his eyes straining towards the darkness. He was really – really – tired. They had been working non-stop on a gruesome case for the past week. The Petty Officer had been raped and strangled, and Gibbs had turned absolutely ferocious; the need to catch the killer had nearly driven Tony bonkers. And when he finally got to go home, knowing another killer was behind bars, the mother of all boilers blew...

He pulled into the Navy Yard with a sour smile at the guards. He parked his car, and dragged himself – and the bag – through security and into the empty elevator. The place seemed deserted, only some lone figures moving along the lobby, either going home, or coming to do their night-shifts.

He seriously hoped the janitor was finished cleaning the bull-pen, he would hate to answer unwanted questions from old Abe. The bull-pen was empty, the glaring over-head light was dark, making the orange wall blend into the shadows. Tony could see the glittering ocean of light out the large windows. He dumped the bag behind his desk and dropped into the chair.

Maybe he should check into a hotel, or motel? No, Tony shook his head. He was already here, if the damn super didn't fix the boiler soon, he'd find some hotel or something, but for tonight, he would settle for napping on the floor, if it came to that.

Tony settled in for a long night, knowing that there was only Gibbs to worry about in the morning. Sleep was slowly creeping on him when a light on the other side of the enclosed area that was "theirs" lit up. Tony startled violently, nearly tipping of the chair.

"DiNozzo?"

"Boss?"

Tony looked up at the figure of his boss. The man was wearing the same clothes as earlier that day; his hair was slightly mussed and he clearly needed to shave. Tony glanced down to the other man's desk. Several boxes of take-away food and coffee-cups indicated that the other man had yet to leave the office.

"DiNozzo, what are you doing here?" asked Gibbs, an eyebrow quirked in curiosity.

"Erm, you see..." Tony started, quickly getting his feet down on the ground before meeting his boss' eyes, "I'm having some... apartment issues."

Gibbs continued to stare at him, his lips quivering a little, before he hummed and walked back to his own desk.

Tony sat stiffly, waiting for his boss' verdict – of what, he didn't know, but he had learned to roll with the punches, so to say, since he started working here.

Tony glanced down at his watch, seeing the time was around eleven thirty in the evening. Frowning, the younger male glanced up at the now scribbling Gibbs. Why was he here still? All the paperwork was done, and there was no way the killer would get out soon.

Gibbs seemed very concentrated as he sat hunched over some papers on his desk. He had a couple of glasses perched on his nose, and the tiny desk lamp was the only light-source. Tony continued to watch as the other man slowly worked through the papers. Curiosity was now burning bright, and Tony couldn't stop himself any longer.

"What are you doing, boss?" asked Tony, resting his chin in his hand.

Gibbs glanced towards him for a second, before his concentration narrowed on the papers again.

"Paperwork, DiNozzo," Gibbs answered.

Knowing it was futile by Gibbs' tone of voice to ask any more questions, Tony figured he should at least get some sleep. Sighing sadly, Tony rigged himself into a slightly more comfortably position, kicking his long legs up on the desk. He squirmed around a bit, getting an irritated glare from Gibbs, before he settled down to nap.

Tony wasn't sure how much time had gone by when Gibbs startled him awake. The other man nudged him softly in the shoulder. Tony squinted up at the man, ready to whinge about being awakened, when he saw that the elder male was carrying his bag.

"Come on, DiNozzo, my place," Gibbs murmured.

Tony felt a huge grin cross his face as gratitude washed over him.

"Thank you, boss," murmured Tony back, easily getting out of the chair, taking the bag from Gibbs' grip and following the other man down to the parking lot.

.

The first night turned out normal. They both went straight to bed and slept until Gibbs alarm rang freakishly early the next morning. Tony moaned pitifully, rolling out of the warm bed. He heard Gibbs close the bathroom door, and the shower start running. Tony grumbled to himself, who woke this early on a Saturday – a free day?

Tony shuffled down the stairs, forgetting that the only article of clothing he wore was boxers. He flicked the light on in the kitchen, shielding his eyes against the harsh yellow light. He moved towards where he could see a coffee-pot was placed. All he needed now was some filters and some coffee.

In a tired daze, Tony began looking for some coffee. A sickening crash broke Tony out from his usual warm after sleep glow. He froze, fearing the worst. Tony slowly turned around to see the coffee pot on the floor – broken.

Tony swore violently, kneeling down by the dead coffee-pot. This could only mean Gibbs was going to kill him, if not torture him a little beforehand. Tony quickly tried to set it back together, but quickly gave it up as a lost cause.

Tony stood there, in Gibbs' kitchen, wearing only a pair of boxers, looking down on the murdered coffee-pot, not knowing what to do. That was how Gibbs found him. Gibbs looked down on the defeated object. Tony counted the seconds until Gibbs' ice-blue eyes found Tony's. Gibbs seemed to stiffen, before he turned towards the basement door. Tony watched mutely as Gibbs disappeared down into the unknown.

Tony shook himself out of his stupor and quickly made his way towards the door.

"Boss, I'm so sorry, I'll buy you a new one, I-"

"Leave it, DiNozzo!"

Tony sighed and closed the door, knowing it was best not to poke an angry bear. Really, this weekend couldn't start out any worse!

Tony sighed, dusted up the remains, and made his way up the stairs. He figured he should buy a new one for Gibbs, before the other man went into complete caffeine withdrawal.

Tony arrived back at Gibbs' house later in the afternoon. After having taken a cab to the Navy Yard to pick up his car, Tony had driven to the nearest mall. It had taken quite some time, as Tony figured Gibbs wouldn't appreciate the high-tech coffee-pots most of the stores had in stock. After a lot of hesitation, Tony picked the one he thought Gibbs could operate – without any major problems.

The house was empty when he arrived. Dirty dinner plates were neatly placed in the sink, and a plate with mashed-potatoes and beef was placed on the stove. Tony could see a great deal of Starbucks coffee-cups in the trashcan.

Tony placed the new coffee pot on the table, carefully moving away from it. He re-heated the dinner, sending a silent thank you to Gibbs, before digging in. The clock struck five in the afternoon, and Gibbs still hadn't shown himself.

Tony was a curious person – a curse, he had been told. The last time he had slept over at Gibbs was before he moved to D.C. At that time, Tony had just slept, and left early the next morning. He had barely seen what colour the house was painted in. Now, on the other hand, he was alone in his boss' house, curious and itching to dig.

Tony decided to just look, no touching – he valued his boss' opinion of himself too much to blow it all getting too curious. So Tony wandered around the house, seeing the empty walls and mismatched furniture. He looked over the bookcase, wandered around the hallway and looked for a damn TV. He ended up in front of the door in the kitchen; leading down to what Tony thought was a basement of sorts.

Tony opened the door, showing a wooden staircase leading down into darkness. Tony found a light switch, and made his way down. He arrived in quite a large space, with wooden work-benches in one corner and shelves along another wall packed with boxes of varying sizes.

But the most shocking object within the basement was the huge shell of what seemed to be a boat, of sorts. In another corner was a huge load of timber, clearly meant for the boat. It seemed to be in the early stages of building, but Tony could clearly see what a fine work it was.

He carefully inspected the massive skeleton, stroking gently across the rough wood. This was going to take a while, Tony figured, looking at the size of it. Tony moved over to the work bench, peering into the glass jars hung from the ledge. Tony quickly grew tired of snooping around down there, and made his way over to the staircase again. As Tony stepped onto the first step, he spotted a gleaming bottle atop a shelf to his left. At closer inspection, Tony saw it was a full bottle of bourbon. Curious, Tony gently took it down to read the label.

"DiNozzo!"

Tony startled violently, cursing himself internally at getting too preoccupied. The bottle slipped from his hands.

Tony felt his stomach fall with the glistening bottle; he felt his stomach shatter along with the glass. He froze for a second, letting the amber liquid soak his sock-clad feet. He slowly lifted his eyes up, towards the looming figure of Gibbs at the top of the staircase.

Gibbs seemed to slump at the sight, and the older man gave a big sigh.

"DiNozzo..."

Tony felt himself flush with shame – he felt like he was five years old again, getting caught by the chef steeling cookies before dinner. Before he even had the opportunity to apologize, Gibbs had gone and returned with a mop and a bucket. Tony could only stare as the older male – his boss – thrust the mop into his hands.

"Clean."

Tony nodded dumbly. Why the hell was everything going so damn badly today? First it was the blasted coffee-pot, and now Gibbs' prized bourbon? Tony felt real rotten, he hadn't felt like this since he was twelve.

"I'm really sorry, boss. I'll replace it, I promise," said Tony, his eyes glued to the mop as he started cleaning up. He felt his face flush with guilt as Gibbs only grunted and walked up the stairs again.

This couldn't possible get any worse, could it?

.

Tony sighed in relief as he went to bed that night. Gibbs hadn't been in a very happy mood after he had cleaned up the mess, and had spent the rest of the day in the basement – probably smelling the bourbon, a constant reminder he would never actually get to drink it.

Tony had amused himself with an old radio and a couple of books he found lying around. He had figured he could make supper for his boss, as a way of compensating for the damage he had made that day. The food had been great, and Gibbs had even cracked a smile at Tony's uneasy ramblings.

It had gone great, until Tony managed to break the only two plates they had used, while washing up. Tony didn't know what to do or say after that, and had excused himself to bed early. Gibbs had grumbled about something, before heading back down in the basement again.

Tony figured Gibbs wouldn't ever let him stay at his place again. He sighed sadly as slumped down on the cosy twin-bed pushed up against the far-wall. It wasn't a very big room, but it was furnished sparsely, with cream coloured curtains and a striped carpet in the middle of the wooden floor. A dresser stood beside the door, and a cosy chair stood across the bed. A blanket was draped over the chair, and a lamp stood next to it. A picture of a boat hang above the chair, and a cactus in a flower pot stood on the dresser.

It was sparse, but Tony liked it. It was very Gibbs. Tony lay down, staring at the white ceiling. Absently, he fished out his wallet. From inside his leather wallet he pulled out a picture; the picture. He glanced down at it, remembering so many years ago as he had watched a young boy clutch the same photo in his hands. His little girl shone back at him from the well-watched photo. It was worn at the edges and the colours weren't what they used to be. Still, Tony could clearly see the brilliance in his baby's smile.

Tony continued to clutch the tattered photo, even as his mind began to drift into the wonderful world of dreams. He had fallen completely asleep when Gibbs appeared in the doorway. Smiling weakly, Gibbs pried the picture from the sleeping man's fingers.

Gibbs glanced at it for a second, and a look of sorrow swept across his face, before he placed it gently atop Tony's wallet on the dressing table. He carefully took the blanket from the chair, and covered his sleeping agent with it. He shut off the light, and went to bed with a sad smile on his face.

It had been raining all that day; heavy drops pounding the pavement, never ending. Large dams had started to form everywhere. People had wrapped themselves in heavy raincoats, a sea of umbrellas swarmed across the city of D.C.

It was in this weather that the NCIS major crime response team trampled back into their warm and comfortable office. Tony managed to keep his grumbling to a minimum, knowing Gibbs would likely be more "trigger-happy" after a day such as this one. Kate, Tony saw, looked absolutely miserable, looking down on her soaked attire – probably mourning the dry-cleaning bill she was going to have.

They arrived in their bullpen looking like a couple of drowned rats.

Gibbs didn't seem to mind wetting his chair, for the boss slumped into it immediately, completely ignoring the small rivers running down his face from his hair – they had a killer to catch, after all.

Tony couldn't bring himself to soil the chair – a chair he would be sitting in for quite some time now, he reckoned. So, before Gibbs could start spouting off orders, he slipped away. He knew he had a fresh set of clothes in his car – he had learned early on to pack carefully, never knowing what mood Gibbs would be in.

Kate looked after him; she said nothing, though. She was too tired to start squabbling now, anyway. And, she figured, Tony had the right idea. It wasn't an ideal time to get sick. She turned to Gibbs, and was met with a humorous gaze. She quirked her lips, before taking her bag that was stashed behind her desk and all but ran to the lady's room.

Gibbs shook his head fondly at his two agents. Kate was fresh to the job as special agent with an investigation agency; she had a lot to learn, but she picked it up very quickly, Gibbs thought. He liked to think he had hit some sort of jackpot when finding his two agents; two diamonds in the rough. He enjoyed teaching people, he enjoyed people who wanted to learn and grow – and both Tony and Kate did everything to appease and learn from Gibbs.

Tony wandered back into the bullpen, dressed in a pair of jeans and an Ohio State University sweatshirt. His hair was damp and he looked to be shivering a bit. The sight of his second in command in warm, dry clothing reminded Gibbs of the lake that was swimming inside his own trousers. Giving up trying to read his e-mail, Gibbs went to dry off. After all, he was only human.

"Tony!" Kate snapped as the car careened around another bend, "Slow down!"

"Why, Kate? Isn't this fun?" Tony smirked, flooring the accelerator when the rode straightened.

"No! I barely survive when Gibbs drive, I don't need you to start driving like that too," hissed Kate through clenched teeth as Tony braked at the latest moment before another bend.

"Well, Kate. You get your wish," Tony said cheerfully as he slowed the car down considerably.

Kate let a big sigh escape as the world outside the window stopped looking like a grey milkshake, and she could finally see shapes again.

"We're here, Kate," Tony smiled at her, nodding his head towards the gates in front of them.

Kate sent a glare in Tony's direction, not in the mood to give an answer. Really, he could act like such a five year old. Grumbling to herself, she couldn't wait until Tony parked the car. The day hadn't been going too well. Gibbs had been in a bad mood, Tony had been particularly annoying and she awaited her period any moment now – no matter how much people joked about PMS, it was very real, and Kate felt it keenly.

And now Gibbs had sent them over to Quantico to talk to Agent McGee, again. Why McGee couldn't make the trip to the Navy Yard, Kate couldn't understand. Still, it was useful; McGee had actually helped them a lot on their most recent case. No one on the MCRT had any amazing computer skills – which was unfortunate, really. McGee was very eager to help, and Tony was very eager to exploit. Kate sighed again as Tony stepped out of the car with a smirk firmly in place.

"Be nice, DiNozzo!"

Tony glanced at Kate with fake innocence plastered all over his face. "What are you talking about, Kate?" Tony asked, smiling.

Kate only rolled her eyes. She massaged her temples as Tony all but skipped towards the building. She just had to get a migraine today, of all days.

"So, McGenius, what have you managed to get from the awesome world wide web, today?" Tony cheered at the unaware McGee, successfully startling the other male terribly.

Tony smirked as the younger agents turned around in a fluster, stammering helplessly. Tony waited until McGee had calmed down before he plunked onto the cramped desk placed under the window. Kate frowned at Tony's behaviour, but refrained from saying anything. Instead she turned her gaze towards McGee, who was now glancing warily at Tony.

"Have you found anything useful, McGee?" Asked Kate kindly, nodding her head towards the computer screen.

"Yes, ma'am – uh, miss..." McGee said, before he fell into a rambling rant about something or another; Tony fell out halfway, looking out onto the parking lot outside the other agent's window. Really, Tony thought, what a boring view. Poor, sod – no wonder he behaved like a frightened mouse; his office looked like a mouse's hole!

As he sat there, a child wandered across the parking lot, looking a little lost. Tony squinted carefully. It was a boy, as far as he could see. The child seemed to be quite young, Tony observed. The child turned around, and Tony could clearly see that he was crying.

Working on instinct he thought he had successfully buried, Tony rose and headed out the door.

"Tony!"

He stopped to look back at an exasperated Kate.

"What?"

"Where are you going? We're in the middle of something." Kate snapped, pointing at the flummoxed McGee.

"There's a child outside," Tony pointed out the window, "He clearly needs help, Kate," Tony said as he started moving out from the office.

Kate and McGee both crowed towards the window, before they jogged to catch up with Tony.

Tony was already outside when they caught up with him. Tony walked carefully towards the small figure. The boy had settled down beside a red Ford, his arms around his knees and tears streaming down his face. Slowly, Tony drew nearer the boy. He knelt down, making the boy startle and look up in fright.

"Hey," Tony said calmly, smiling at the boy.

The child stared at him with big eyes, before he caught sight of the two other agents standing behind Tony. The child tensed up, but focused back on Tony.

"Hello," The child hiccupped.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" asked Tony. The boy was thin, maybe not sickly, but still very thin. He was dirty, but Tony couldn't see if that was just because he was sitting on wet pavement or if something worse was going on.

The child shook his head 'no'. Tony felt the ball in his stomach ease just a little bit at that.

"Can you tell us your name?" Kate asked as she knelt down beside Tony, smiling kindly at the boy.

"My- My name is Ben," The child said, looking up at the duo in front of him.

"Hello, Ben, "Tony said, "My name is Tony, and this is Kate." Tony nodded his head in Kate's direction.

"How old are you, Ben?" Kate asked.

"I'm six years old," Ben said before he looked around the parking lot again, "I can't find my mom and dad," he whispered. Two big tears started rolling down his red cheeks again, as he looked up at the pair in front of him.

"It's going to be OK, Ben," Tony said, before he held his hands out to the boy. He was small enough to comfortably carry. The child hesitated for a second, before he leaned into the two large hands. Tony easily picked the boy up, settling him on his hip.

"We are going to find your parents, Ben. We work for NCIS, you know," Tony told him as they made their way inside again.

"What's that?"

Here McGee jumped in, smiling nervously at the boy. "It stands for Naval Criminal Investigation Service. We are cops working for the Navy."

Ben nodded his head in acceptance, clutching onto Tony for dear life as they came closer to the front door. Kate walked in front, opening the door for Tony, patting the boy kindly on the back. Ben smiled timidly at her, before he hid his face in Tony's shoulder.

Tony felt the knot in his stomach tighten. What if he had been a paedophile; what if he was someone who preyed on small children? It was frighteningly easy to make Ben trust him. Flashes of all the horrible things that could have happened to Ben if he had spotted him flashed in front of his eyes. What had the world come to?

"Ben!"

A woman's scream startled the three agents. Tony turned to see a couple surrounded by a bunch of flustered NCIS special agents. The woman was running towards them, her hair wild and her make-up smeared across her face. The man jogged after her, tears clearly visible in his eyes as well.

"Mom!" Ben cried, reaching his arms towards the woman.

Tony easily gave the boy to his crying mother. All three stepped back as the mother sank to the ground clutching the crying boy. Tony couldn't help but compare the situation to the millions of films he had watched through the years. If it hadn't been such a serious moment, Tony would have laughed at the cliché. But he didn't, instead he felt the knot in his stomach ease somewhat, but still the uncomfortable feeling remained.

The car ride back to the Navy Yards was spent mostly in silence. Tony had buried himself in thoughts; dark and bleak thoughts. Kate kept her silence. She had been truly shocked at Tony's behaviour; she had no idea that he could be so... warm and caring. She had suspected that there was more to Anthony DiNozzo then he let on – today, Kate had gotten an answer to her unasked question. She didn't know what the answer was, nor did she know what question it answered, all she knew was that there was a lot more to Anthony DiNozzo than he wanted her to know. It hurt a little, but then again, they hadn't known each other for that long, and honestly she hadn't tried to get to know him either.

She settled back into her seat, enjoying the peaceful car ride, but certainly not enjoying the reason for the tranquil ride. Tony kept his silence until they reached the parking lot. He didn't get out of the car straight away, like Kate expected. Instead he kept staring at his hands curled around the steering wheel.

"You know, Tony. I'm impressed. You were very good with Ben," Kate said, hoping it would draw him out from his dark mood.

Tony nodded his head slowly, his eyes meeting hers. "We could have been anyone," he whispered.

"What?"

"We could have been anyone, Kate. What if we were some psycho child killers, or something?" Tony met her eyes, for once not shielding his emotions. Kate stared at him, finally starting to understand her partner's sombre mood.

"But we weren't, Tony. Everything turned out alright," Kate tried to console him. A little part of her wanted to reach over and pat him on the arm; she wanted to comfort him. She withheld the urge, knowing it would only make it worse. Tony sat tense and angry in the seat, glaring out the windscreen.

"This time, yes, but think about all the kidnappings by paedophiles and other crazy people! Kate, what if..." Tony trailed off, looking at Kate.

"Tony, that is the reality – I know it is horrible – but that is the reality we face as federal agents – as humans." Kate answered calmly, this time she did put her hand on his forearm.

Tony seemed to deflate in front of her eyes. He nodded sadly, before opening the door.

"Tony, why did this affect you so?" Kate wondered as she too stepped out of the car.

"It's just one of those things, I guess," Tony answered, before Kate could practically see the walls coming up again. Tony smirked at here before another one of his immature jokes was thrown her way. In a mere second, Tony had gone from being a serious, jaded cop to an immature, joking brat.

But this time around, Kate knew that beneath that exterior Tony was a heartfelt and serious man. She rolled her eyes and punched him in the arm just as usual when he came with some god-awful joke; she could understand Tony's need for everything to go back to normal, and she had no reason to rip off old scabs from wounds Tony obviously had.

After all, Kate had no idea what Tony could have witnessed in his years as a detective with several different PDs.

The empty feeling Tony had experienced quickly evaporated; anger beyond anger had replaced it, making him into some sort of vicious monster. Tony really didn't want to make things worse at a time like this... Oh, how he hated times like these.

Kate was dead; shot, murdered – gone.

He couldn't control himself; he hadn't been able to control his anger as he had snarled at his probie. Goodness, he didn't know what to do with himself. A part of him wanted to crumple; to scream and shout to whatever god ruled them all. Why? Why the bloody hell?

As he had watched his partner die, his female partner, he had flashed back to all those years ago. All that blood. Tony couldn't actually remember how he got down from the roof; he couldn't remember anything before Ducky's face had planted itself in front of him, shaking his shoulder firmly. If his baby had lived, he had wished she would have grown up to be a confident, strong and beautiful woman – he had wished she would be like Kate. And now Kate was dead, just like his girl.

The thought was so crippling, so devastating, he couldn't do anything. He felt paralyzed. Gibbs had gone into himself, and had come out being all... nice. It scared Tony, it really did. He could see some of the same emotions in Gibbs eyes, but the older man quickly shut them away, turning instead to comfort his team.

The shooting in Abby's lab had only pushed it that much farther. Tony knew he was going to smash something when he went home that day.

Was this his fault? Had he tempted the supernatural powers controlling the universe with comparing his deceased daughter with his partner? The thought made him sick to his stomach. He usually didn't believe in over-natural myths. Yet, how was he supposed to explain all the shit that had happened?

That night, after having smashed the dining room table and a couple of chairs, Tony cried.

He was sitting in his kitchen, the lights off and the light from the street down below sent haunting shadows along his ceiling. It was late, nearing two o'clock in the morning. Still, the tears wouldn't stop, and Tony found himself reaching for the phone. He dialled a number he hadn't phoned in quite some time, yet, a number he still knew from heart.

"Hello?" A groggy voice mumbled on the other end.

Tony sobbed once, thrusting his fist into his mouth to keep from howling in sorrow.

"Tony?" The voice sounded much more alert, a hint of worry tinted it now, "Is that you?"

"Hi," Tony mumbled, feeling like a child as the post-crying-hiccups set in.

"Tony, what's wrong?"

Tony dried the tears away, feeling much calmer as he listened to Lisa's soft voice – her voice had always calmed him; it sounded like silk to him, silk across bear skin.

"Oh, you know..." Tony paused to draw a deep breath, "life, I guess."

"Come one, Tony. You know you can talk to me," Lisa answered softly. He heard her sit up in bed.

He could picture her at that moment; her blonde hair wild with sleep, her face bare of any make-up and her nightgown had probably scooted up to her belly, leaving her bare legs to caress the soft sheets.

He felt a warm sense of home as he pictured her; but at the same time, he felt a deep hole of loss and sorrow in his heart.

"I lost..." Tony had to stop, forcing down the sobs again, before continuing, "I lost my partner today."

He heard Lisa take in a deep breath, before a heavy sigh came over the phone-line. "Was it Kate?" Lisa asked carefully.

Tony hummed in answer, staring up at the dancing shadows on his ceiling.

"I'm so very, very, sorry for your loss, Tony," Lisa eventually said. They both knew it wasn't enough – but they both also knew that there was nothing else anyone could do, at all.

Tony shook himself hard – this was not productive. He was needed to do his job, and to do his job, he needed sleep. Tony got up from the floor, grimacing at the nasty pop in his knee. He turned on the lights, knowing that sitting in the dark did no good.

"I'm sorry I woke you, Lisa. I hope I didn't ruin your night completely," Tony murmured as he looked out into the streets below.

"Anytime Tony – Anytime you need to talk, you call me, OK?" Lisa said, and Tony could hear her shift around in her bed, probably getting comfortable again.

"I know, good night," answered Tony, a soft smile on his face as he hung up. Just listening to Lisa's voice had brought some peace to him. Lisa was a constant reminder that life moved on; that his life wouldn't stop and crumple. He loved Kate, and he would cherish her memory by doing the best he could to bring justice to the world.

He went to bed, feeling awful, yet peaceful at the same time.

"God night, Kate... Bessie," Tony mumbled just before darkness claimed him.

All kidding aside, Tony really didn't feel comfortable in Ziva David's presence. She was too sure of herself; too smug and deceiving. There was something lurking beneath those dark eyes – and he didn't like it one bit. He didn't like the way she looked at him with knowing eyes, as if she had already figured him out. He was disappointed that she would believe his act. He had thought she was smarter than that – she was a trained ninja assassin, after all.

Gibbs had shared his wariness at her character and her role in the whole Ari debacle. But something changed. One day Gibbs seemed calm and reassured, and Tony didn't know what had happened – he reserved the right to be cautious, no matter how much Gibbs seemed to trust the foreign woman, all of a sudden.

Tony felt a sliver of apprehension of what was to come, before Ziva disappeared and the four-man team turned into a three-man team. Though, they had company from different agents, here and there.

The sickening feeling of apprehension came back forcefully the day Ziva David re-emerged in the bull-pen. Gibbs seemed to be OK with the director's intervention too quickly, Tony thought. There was something between the older man and the younger woman, and not knowing was putting Tony on edge. He trusted Gibbs and the older man's gut, but he didn't trust David. She hadn't earned the right to be trusted, not after the last time she had been in town. Maybe she had earned Gibbs trust, but that was their business, and Tony figured she had to earn his trust as well.

That didn't mean he was going to behave any different towards her; he was just going to be a little... careful around her. She believed him to be an immature womanizer who could barely do his job. That was her mistake, and Tony had no intention to prove her differently. If everything went pear-shaped, he had an advantage over her – maybe not in the skills department, but he backed more force than she would ever believe, making surprise his chose of weapon.

The years went by, and Tony found himself warming to the liaison officer. Steadily she showed herself to be trustworthy – even though she was too sure of herself and her abilities to really open her eyes to the other people on their team, except Gibbs, of course.

She seemed just a tad too smug and condescending; but, Tony took it for just being a part of her character. He himself had a lot of flaws in his character, so who was he to criticize? Though, he couldn't deny that it was mighty irritating at times, especially when McProbie decided to back the younger female officer up.

Gibbs seemed content with the situation. After everything they had gone through, Tony thought Gibbs deserved some type of peace, if only in was in the form of his team. The security of knowing you had competent people backing you up made for many a good night's sleep.

And then everything went to hell – Literally.

The night was clear, and if it hadn't been for the streetlights Tony was sure he would have been able to the see the starts twinkling above them all. He stood in front of the window, trying to look out, but only seeing his own reflection. He looked tired, drained and sad. His skin was pale, his eyes sunken and his hair dirty.

He had just arrived home from work. Tony rolled his shoulders slowly, feeling his muscles strain painfully. He really needed a shower, he knew. He hadn't been home in three days, working relentlessly on the case they had caught.

Gibbs wouldn't have struggled like this, Tony thought slowly. His reflection didn't change, still the same drawn face with bags beneath his eyes and hallowing cheeks.

No, Gibbs would probably have gotten the guy two days ago – a fact Tony's team liked to remind him of. Tony continued to look out, his empty eyes searching for something, something to keep him going. He didn't find anything.

Time seemed to fly, and Tony quickly decided to take a bath. Yes, a bath. He sorely needed to relax, if just for some meagre minutes. The notion of lying in a smooth porcelain tub with warm water surrounding him sounded like heaven.

As he laid there, the water seeping into his pores, flushing out all the dirt which had accumulated on his body, Tony thought of the previous two months. They had been torture.

Abby had decked out her lab in pictures of Gibbs –behaving like some whining five year old who never stopped complaining. All he ever heard from her was Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs ... And he got it! He understood that she was sad and heartbroken, but Tony couldn't understand how a professional person could behave like that when they were at work. Enough was enough, and if someone didn't do anything soon, he would have to talk to the director. Maybe she could talk some sense into Abby?

It wasn't Tony's job to bring Gibbs back, when the other man had retired – out of free will, mind you.

Ducky was in a right mood, barking at Palmer when the dorky man asked questions – questions Ducky would have appreciated before this whole mess. Tony wanted to shake the older man, shake him and say that Gibbs wasn't worth destroying a relationship over. But then again, he couldn't do that; he couldn't lie like that. Gibbs was worth a lot, and the people he had worked with knew that. There was nothing Tony could do to make them see some sense and move on. They would know what a hypocrite he was. He agonized over the elder man's departure just as much himself.

The others noticed it, made fun of it and made his life a living hell, really.

McGee and David were worse though. Tony put on a brave face, and acted as though he didn't care what they whispered about; like he didn't care about the look they threw his way. He wanted to shout, she wanted to scream. He wanted to point at McGee, who was doing the exact same thing has Tony was doing. McGee was copying Tony, just as Tony was copying Gibbs – and no one seemed to think that was ridiculous.

As Tony sat in his tub, soaking in the warm water, all the doubts and hurt seemed to melt away. Did all this really mean anything? No, Tony decided. He was a bigger man than letting some petty bullying knock him down. He had lived through hell, and this was certainly nothing like it. If he could survive his daughter death, he could survive his petty teammates and a childish forensic scientist.

But one thing stuck in his mind; one thing he couldn't forget.

Gibbs.

The man who had offered him a job; the man who had several times shared his home with Tony – the man who had, essentially, gone through the same as Tony had. Tony felt his heart bleed for the older man, he felt himself break down a little. It made him feel lucky, knowing he still had Lisa; he had Lisa to share his grief with, to talk to and comfort each other.

Gibbs had had no one. The Marine had been alone.

It made Tony want to hug his boss, it made him want to cry. He didn't, though. It wasn't his place to do any of those things. Gibbs had lost his memory, and most certainly didn't remember Tony more than a face in the office. Tony could sympathise. He had no idea what he would do if he woke up the next day and the last thing he would remember was his baby's funeral.

But beneath all of this turmoil, Tony felt betrayed. Gibbs had known about Bessie; Gibbs had helped him. But Gibbs had never told Tony about Shannon and Kelly. Tony knew it was stupid to feel and think that. Gibbs had no reason to tell Tony his life story.

Still...

Tony didn't blame Gibbs for leaving. The older man may have gotten most of his memories back, but the pain must have been crippling – all over again.

Tony could lead the team, he could deal with hurtful remarks and crying scientist and moody doctors. It wasn't a fraction of the hurt and pain he knew Gibbs was going through all over again.

.

Tony knew the director didn't fully believe his reasoning for staying in D.C. She doubted his reasons for staying on Gibbs' MCRT; she doubted he didn't feel any sort of resentment towards Special Agent Gibbs.

True, Tony had been feeling some sort of hurricane of different emotions, but he was honestly and truly relieved Gibbs was back. He knew the director was giving him this opportunity because he had done an amazing job while Gibbs was out of the picture – she was giving him this opportunity to prove to those who doubted him that he was good at what he did. He appreciated it, but there was too much tying him to D.C – to the USA, really.

If he left for Spain, he wouldn't have the option to just travel and see the grave; it would be too far away from Lisa. No, he couldn't get himself to leave the country where his daughter rested.

He'd told the director he couldn't take the promotion because he was worried about Gibbs. It wasn't a lie, really. But he also knew that Gibbs was coming back, day for day, more and more. He would be fully healed in no time, even though the hurt that had been ripped open again would sting for years to come – he doubted it would ever fade into that dull throb again.

He was happy with being Gibbs' #1; he was content in being the joker Tony. He had enjoyed having his own team, he had enjoyed showing off his leader skills again, after so long. But he enjoyed the people he worked with more, and therefore, he was happy to be Gibbs' #1.

The various emotions were still lumbering beneath the surface. It was no good feeling knowing that McGee had developed some sort of know-it-all attitude and smugness that just didn't suite him. And, well frankly, Ziva had always been condescending and smug, so there was no change there. Eh, he could ignore his friend's faults, just as they mostly ignored his.

As long as he was content, happy even, with his life, he wasn't going to complain. It was more than he had ever hoped for, all those years ago.

"Hi, Boss?" Tony called down to the basement. The lights were on and a radio crackled softly in the background. The steady rhythm of Gibbs sanding stopped at the interruption.

"Come up, I've got dinner," Tony continued, taking the lapse in work as an answer.

Tony heard Gibbs put down the hand-tools and jog up the wooden stairs. Gibbs emerged in kitchen with a quirked eyebrow. Tony smiled goofily at his boss, handing him a beer. Gibbs sat down by the kitchen table, waiting for Tony to reveal the dinner.

"What's the occasion?" Gibbs asked, taking a sip from the beer bottle.

"No occasion, boss," Tony answered, "Just thought I'd repay you for those delicious cowboy-style steaks last week."

Gibbs grunted before taking a long sip from the brown bottle.

"I hope you like lasagne, boss," Tony said, smiling as he placed a form into the oven, "I just have to heat it up a little bit."

Tony sat down across Gibbs by the table. They sat in comfortable silence, both nursing their own beer. The rain pitter-pattered on the windows, making the whole scene that much more cosy. Darkness had taken over, pressing on the windows and making Tony shiver a little. The smell of lasagne soon spread out, making Gibbs' stomach rumble in hunger. Tony frowned, knowing his boss had been neglecting to eat properly since his return. It did no good in having a team leader who didn't take care of himself. They needed a leader who was alert and ready to do the job.

Tony took the form out, and quickly setting it on the table, along with two plaits and some cutlery.

"Dig in, Boss," Tony smiled, cutting a piece of his own.

After both of them had eaten more than enough, they migrated into the living room. Tony sank into the sofa with a tired sigh, the beer bottle clutched tightly in his hand. Gibbs sat down beside him, after lighting a fire in the fireplace.

They sat in silence for a long while, looking into the crackling flames. The rain outside continued, a slight breeze rustling the leaves on the trees outside.

"You know, boss, you could have told me," Tony murmured, steadily not looking at the man beside him.

Gibbs gave a deep sigh. The man seemed to deflate somewhat beside Tony.

"I know," Gibbs answered softly.

"Good," Tony answered, a small smile on his face, "I wasn't so sure if you knew that, but... well, good," Tony eventually finished, knowing an embarrassed blush had crept up his cheeks.

Gibbs nodded slowly, his eyes fixed to Tony's face. Gibbs' shoulders sank as he leaned back into the sofa. Slowly he patted Tony on the back of his neck, showing Tony how much his words had actually meant. Tony nodded once before he too sank into the soft sofa, once again taking a sip from the bottle.

Both of them knew nothing could take the hurt away. But the comfort they found in each other had to count for something, right? At least Tony thought so. He appreciated everything Gibbs had done for him through the years, and everything he knew Gibbs would do for him (for everyone, really) in the coming years. He just hoped Gibbs felt as though Tony had helped him in some way. He hoped he could help Gibbs through the tough times ahead – he really wished Gibbs would realise that getting help from someone wasn't a weakness.

"Thank you," Gibbs murmured, his eyes closed as he rested his head on the back of the sofa.

Tony smiled to himself, knowing he'd got his answer.

A/N: Hello. I've spent a lot of time writing this, and it hasn't been done as I would have like it to be done. Oh, well. Do you disagree with what I have written? Fine, you needen't tell me. I would appreciate comments about my English, though. Thank you.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own NCIS. I only "own" the OCs, etc.