LOYAL

Chapter 9

Gibbs shifted the gears in his truck and accelerated out of a tight curve as he headed from Bethesda to the Hoover Building. He scrubbed his face with one hand and flexed the tight muscles in his neck and shoulders; stress and lack of sleep making their presence felt. The temptation to go home to his basement and lose himself in another bottle of bourbon was enormous but he'd spent too long avoiding the truth. Although his body's desire for sleep was great, his need for answers was more pressing.

He thought back a few days to his meeting with Fornell at the FBI agent's home. A myriad of emotions, from gut-wrenching guilt to white-hot fury, had washed over him as they read through the evidence DiNozzo had gathered and transferred to CD. There had been enough circumstantial evidence for the FBI to bring Granger in for questioning – but it was still circumstantial. This had to be a misunderstanding.

Ducky's words echoed through his mind – "You need to be certain that you have placed your trust in the right man and for the right reasons or you run the risk of losing them both."

0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0

"Doctor Mallard speaking," Ducky said, stepping outside Tony's room to answer his cell.

"Ducky?" Abby's replied tentatively.

"Abigail? Is that you?"

"It's me, Ducky," she said quietly. "How's Tony?"

"He's sleeping comfortably for the moment," the ME replied with a quick glance at the man in the bed. "Do try not to worry, my dear."

"I'm trying, Ducky, but it's, like, the worst feeling ever!" she said. "I didn't know that Tony didn't know that Gibbs didn't know when Tony was first brought to the hospital, you know?"

"I know," Ducky empathized. "Abigail, you really must calm down. Nobody blames you. You had no way of knowing what had transpired between Anthony and Jethro."

"But every time I close my eyes, all I can see is the look on Tony's face. He looked like he just lost his best friend. But Gibbs would never choose Granger over Tony, nuh-uh, no sir-ee Bob, never in a million years, no way Jose!"

The silence on the phone line hung heavily between them.

"Oh my God, Ducky! How could he? Tony's Tony and Granger's…well, Granger! We totally have to fix this!"

"I'm afraid the only people who can resolve this situation are Anthony and Jethro," Ducky said, pursing his lips and tapping a finger against them. "However, perhaps I can give them a nudge in the right direction."

0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0

A shadow darkened Fornell's desk and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee caused the FBI agent to salivate as a steaming Styrofoam cup was placed in front of him.

"Appreciate you arranging this," Gibbs said flatly.

Removing the lid, Fornell took a sip of the scalding liquid and smacked his lips together in appreciation.

"For the record, it's against my better judgement," he replied. "How's DiNozzo?"

"He'll make it," the former Marine responded curtly.

Fornell eyed his friend worriedly.

"When was the last time you slept? You look like crap."

Ignoring the unwelcome appraisal, the former Marine was all business.

"What've you got?" he asked.

Fornell shifted uneasily in his chair and fingered the thick folder on his desk.

"You sure you want to hear this?" he asked.

"No," Gibbs replied. "Tell me anyway."

Opening the file, Fornell spread several photos and police reports across his desk.

"These are the crime scene photos of six unsolved murders that occurred during the last five years. They were all considered cold cases. They hadn't been flagged to the Bureau because, until we received DiNozzo's CD, nobody had any idea they were related," Tobias paused to take another mouthful of coffee, silently assessing his friend's reaction as he did so. "At first glance, there's nothing connecting the victims - the locations, the murder weapons, even the calibre and make of the ammunition was different for each shooting. It wasn't until DiNozzo started checking into Granger that we were able to use the information on the CD to start joining the dots. We're still checking the details but so far we have enough to charge Granger with suspicion of three of murders."

Gibbs cursed under his breath.

"Doesn't make sense. Alan served his country with distinction in the Gulf; risked his life saving others," he said, pushing the still painful memory of Kelly's near-death experience to the back of his mind. "A man doesn't go from decorated war hero to hit man."

"He may have been a war hero once but from what we've determined, Granger never really made the transition back to civilian life. He hasn't held down a job for longer than two years since he was medically discharged from the Corps. He was on the brink of bankruptcy five years ago and suddenly he's living the good life."

Gibbs shook his head in disbelief.

"Who paid for the hits?" he asked.

"The money came from different sources. It looks like Granger found his niche as a freelance assassin. I'm sorry, Jethro, I know Granger's a friend of yours."

Gibbs' expression remained impassive but Fornell knew that hearing the words was soul-destroying.

"He told you anything?"

"Nothing. I was hoping he might open up to you."

"You want a confession, you get it yourself," Gibbs growled. "That's not why I'm here."

Fornell leaned casually back in his chair.

"Mind telling me why you are here?" he asked.

"Like you said, Alan Granger's a friend of mine."

"Correct me if I'm wrong but so is DiNozzo," Fornell replied, completely unaffected by Gibbs' molten glare.

"You got something on your mind, Tobias, just say it."

The FBI agent looked hesitantly at his friend of many years and decided candour was the best option.

Fornell shrugged one shoulder. "Just wondering why you're here with Granger when DiNozzo's in ICU."

The former Gunny shot Fornell a blistering look that conveyed exactly what he thought of his statement but, again, he chose to ignore the remark.

"You got anything that ties Granger to DiNozzo's shooting?"

"We're working on it," Fornell said, opening another smaller file and handing the photos to his friend. "These were taken by the team working the crime scene. As you know, DiNozzo's injury was a through and through to the left bicep. The bullet was found gouged into the sidewalk. We calculated the trajectory and are almost positive the shot came from the top of the fifteen story building across the road."

The FBI agent shook his head in awe.

"That's a hellova shot, wouldn't you agree?" he asked, studying Gibbs' inscrutable face. "Not many people could have made the shot. But there's something else…Agent Mendez is a similar height and build to DiNozzo so we used him to line up the trajectory. Had DiNozzo not had such an eye for the ladies - had he not turned at the last second - the bullet would have torn through his heart – one shot, one kill."

Years of loyalty, friendship and an insurmountable debt battled fiercely with the white-hot rage surging through Gibbs' veins as he struggled to suppress his feelings.

"You still have nothing to tie Granger to this."

"Come on, Jethro! We all know DiNozzo's pissed off a lot of people in his time - hell, I've thought about taking a shot or two at him myself," Fornell quipped, "but Granger has motive, he has the skill…and who better to name as his alibi than DiNozzo's own partner?"

Gibbs turned away, not wanting to show the raw emotion on his face. He attempted to take a calming breath but his anger exploded and he thumped his fist against the wall before turning back to face the FBI agent.

"I wanna see him," he said, his voice frosted with barely contained rage.

"Let us handle it, Jethro, you don't have to do this."

Gibbs stood a little straighter and met his friend's unfaltering gaze.

"Yeah, Tobias…I do."

They walked together to the other end of the Hoover Building and stepped inside an observation room. Gibbs' heart clenched as he caught sight of his old friend through the one-way glass. Manacled and wearing prison orange, Alan Granger looked old and tired – a far cry from the freelance assassin he was purported to be. Yet this was the man who had stood tall by his side under enemy fire; the man who had saved his daughter's life and had been with him in the dark days after he'd lost his family. Despite the damning evidence, with his last vestige of hope Gibbs prayed that this had all been an enormous misunderstanding. He started for the interrogation room but stopped at the door and turned back to Fornell.

"No audio."

"Gibbs-" Fornell started.

"Need your word, Tobias," he said flatly.

Fornell gave an exasperated huff before turning to the sound tech at the back of the room.

"Donaldson…go get some coffee."

Donaldson looked from one stony face to the other and thought better than to argue as he scurried from the room.

"You've got five minutes," Fornell said.

0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0

Granger's eyes darted toward the door and his shoulders slumped in a mixture of relief and shame as Gibbs entered the room and took a seat across the table.

"Jethro," Granger started hesitantly. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

His eyes flicked nervously toward the camera in the corner of the room, noting the indicator light was now dormant.

"Camera's off," Gibbs assured him. "You can speak freely."

Granger nodded slowly.

"It was never supposed to end like this," the man said. "I had a job lined up as a security consultant in Iraq. First real job I've had in over five years."

Gibbs swallowed convulsively.

"Why didn't you come to me?"

"And say what?" Granger asked incredulously. "That I couldn't get my shit together? I saw what losing your family did to you - but you built a new career and a new life. I didn't want you to see what a mess I'd made of mine."

"I could have helped. I would've helped."

"What would you have done?" Granger scoffed. "Mortgaged your house? Called in some favours to get me a job? Written me a damn character reference?"

"If that's what it took."

"I got by…"

"You killed people!" Gibbs snapped. "These weren't insurgents; they weren't the enemy, they were innocent people!"

"Being a Marine, a sniper, is the only thing I was ever good at."

"That's not being a Marine!" Gibbs felt his stomach roil and a burning at the back of his throat at the absence of denial but he forced himself to ask the question he should have asked days before. "Did you shoot my agent?"

Granger took a quick intake of breath.

"What did they tell you?"

"Need to hear it from you," Gibbs told him.

"Jethro…I-"

"Did you shoot Tony?" Gibbs slammed his hand, palm down, onto the surface of the table. "Answer me!"

Granger startled slightly before steeling his expression but Gibbs saw the guilt in the man's eyes. Launching to his feet, the lead agent turned toward the door.

"Wait, Jethro, please don't go! We've been through so much together – two tours of the Gulf. We were like brothers!" he pleaded desperately.

"The man I knew wouldn't have killed those people and he sure as hell wouldn't have shot my agent!" Gibbs ground out through firmly clenched teeth. "Tony's been watching my back for twelve years and you damn near killed him!"

For the first time, Granger had the sense to look ashamed.

"He was getting too close," he replied. "I just needed a few more days and I'd have been in Iraq. I'd have been in the clear."

Gibbs snatched at the door handle impatiently, sickened by the sight and sound of the man he once considered a friend.

"Jethro, please! Our friendship is all I have left!"

Wheeling around furiously, Gibbs crossed the floor and loomed menacingly over Granger's hunched form.

"Then you've got nothing."

As the lead agent turned and stalked from the room, the in-frangible strands of friendship and brotherhood that had once bound them were severed forever.

0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0

Tony opened his eyes to half-mast and peered into the darkened room trying to comprehend his surroundings. The dark sky beyond the small window told him he must have been asleep for a few hours. The linen on his bed was damp with sweat from the fever that seemed to re-visit periodically and the burning sensation in his back let him know that he was due for more pain medication.

He turned his head toward the soft snoring. Despite their previous confrontation, Tony was disappointed to see Ducky, not Gibbs, asleep in a chair in the corner of the room. The ME's head was canted at an odd angle and his glasses were comically askew.

Licking his dry lips, Tony reached for the cup of water on the nightstand. He gasped loudly as the movement caused his back to spasm and the plastic cup slipped from his fingers and bounced noisily across the floor.

"Anthony?"

"M'okay," Tony muttered.

Taking in the empty cup on the floor, Ducky tsked loudly.

"Honestly, Anthony, why didn't you ask for help?" he asked.

"You were sleeping."

"Yes, well, I was under the impression that you were sleeping, too," Ducky said.

Retrieving the cup, the ME half-filled it with water, holding it until Tony had quenched his thirst and eased his head back on the pillows. Noticing the trembling and the sheen of perspiration on the younger man's brow, Ducky reached for the damp face cloth and pressed the button on the morphine pump. Surreptitiously, he checked his watch – knowing the Tony's low threshold to pain meds he had just a few moments to talk with him before sleep took him or he boarded the crazy train to Looneyville.

"Anthony," Ducky ventured, wiping the sweat from Tony's face. "About Jethro…"

The agent's body stiffened slightly and his expression darkened.

"He send you here to talk to me?" Tony asked.

"Certainly not," the doctor replied indignantly. "But I have seen you and Jethro endure too much together to sit idly by and watch something like this end your friendship."

"All due respects, Ducky, you're talking to the wrong man – Gibbs made his choice; I just want to put it behind me and move on."

"Believe me, dear boy, I understand that you want to put this behind you but, if I've learned anything in my years, it's before you can put something of this magnitude behind you, it must first be dealt with. Unresolved issues have a way of finding their way back and you will never truly be rid of them. Anthony, you're angry and confused and you have every right to be but surely you know that Jethro would give his life for you without hesitation."

Tony didn't reply but the way he clenched his jaw and averted his eyes told Ducky all he needed to know.

"When you were falsely accused of murder, the evidence against you was rather overwhelming, was it not?" The ME patiently waited until Tony acknowledged the question with a concise nod. "Not for a single moment did Jethro doubt your character or believe you were capable of such heinous behaviour. He scrutinized the evidence and the facts looking for ways to invalidate it…to prove your innocence."

"I gave him every chance to look at the evidence against Granger. He made it pretty freakin clear that he wanted nothing to do with the evidence or me. He didn't believe me."

"But don't you see, Anthony, Jethro's reluctance was not because he didn't believe you…it was because he did."

The agent blinked several times trying to stave off the effects of the sedative.

"Wanna try that again cos I'm not really firing on all cylinders here."

"Jethro knows better than anyone what an exceptional investigator you are."

"Then why did he push me away?"

"Because he was afraid," Ducky said. "He was afraid that if you said you had proof, his old friend Alan Granger must have been guilty."

"He threatened to shoot out my tyres," Tony said, still not entirely convinced. "He was protecting Granger."

"No, my boy, he was protecting you! Jethro's heart may have been convinced that Granger did not attempt to kill you but his head was not about to take the chance."

Pulling a shaky lungful of air, Tony let it out in a slow, calming stream.

"So…you're saying he thought I was right but he sided with Granger anyway?"

"Alan Granger is a last link back to another time in Jethro's life – a time when his wife and daughter were still alive. The point I'm trying to make is that this was never about Jethro choosing you or choosing Alan Granger. During this entire unfortunate situation, Jethro had only one person on his mind."

Ducky watched the younger man's expression change as realisation struck.

"Kelly," Tony whispered, noting Ducky's surprised expression.

"Jethro told you?"

Tony shook his head and then winced as his headache stepped up a notch.

"I read the police report. I know Granger was hurt saving Kelly's life."

"He almost died," the ME said soberly. "And in doing so, he gave Jethro a priceless gift – five more years with his daughter. Jethro has never recovered from the loss of his wife and child; I expect he never will. He cares for you deeply, Anthony, but as his three ex-wives will attest, no one will ever come before the memory of his wife and child."

0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0

In the basement of his home, Gibbs reached for his battered old tin cup from the overhead shelf and poured a generous shot of bourbon. He winced as the alcohol burned his throat and trailed its fire deep into his gut. Rubbing a hand over his bristly chin, he pressed the heels of his hands into over-strained eyes and released a sigh that came from his boot tops. How the hell had he let this happen?

He had thought Alan Granger a trusted friend, a hero and a man of honour. A combination of the close friendship they'd formed in the Gulf, precious memories of his family and an overwhelming debt of gratitude had blinded him to what Granger had become… and it had almost cost Tony his life.

His eyes darted to the small trunk situated at the far corner of his basement. He stared at it for a few moments before crossing the floor and heaving it onto the bench top. He flicked open the catches and lifted the lid, spotting the leather-clad family photo album. Images of Shannon rushed into his mind; meticulously choosing and positioning every photo with the loving detail only a mother could apply. He ghosted his fingers over each likeness of his wife and daughter; taking his time to study every detail and lingering in the happy memories they invoked. A shard of intense pain stabbed at his heart when the photos abruptly stopped less than halfway through the album. Like the lives of his precious wife and daughter, the album would be forever incomplete.

The magnitude of what Gibbs lost that day could never be fully measured. The acute sense of loss would always remain but, with the help of his extended team, the former Marine could now remember his family - not just with heartache, anger and regret but as they deserved to be remembered - with love and an occasional smile. For all their quirks and idiosyncrasies, his extended team had become his new family and he shared a unique bond with each of them.

Twelve years ago, Tony - with his mix of irreverence and intuitiveness - nonchalantly sauntered into Gibbs' fiercely protected personal space and put down roots for the first time in his adult life. The younger man would frequently bear the brunt of his temper and frustrations, only to arrive at his home later that night with a six-pack and pizza and wearing an ear-to-ear grin. But behind the easy-going demeanor and feigned insouciance, was an astute and intuitive man who had vigilantly watched Gibbs' back and had given him nothing less than steadfast support and unwavering loyalty.

Pouring another shot of bourbon, he tossed it down in one swallow and closed his eyes as an image of Tony's face, etched in resentment and betrayal, fleetingly appeared in his mind's eye. Since Gibbs had started in law-enforcement, his partnership with Tony was the most stable and long lasting he'd known...but it went deeper than that. Theirs was a friendship and partnership that grew on a level that no one else really understood and he hoped like hell that he hadn't destroyed it. As a general rule, Gibbs was not a man who gave or sought absolution but in this case, he knew he had to make an exception.

0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0

"Doctor Mallard?" a female voice called in a hushed voice. "Doctor Mallard?"

Ducky startled awake, looking blankly at the faces of two nurses leaning over him. After a moment, the fog lifted from his brain and he remembered where he was.

"Oh my," he said around a jaw-cracking yawn. "Anthony?"

"He's still sleeping," the blonde, Lieutenant Walker, replied quietly. "His temperature is up again but his vitals and his kidney output is fine. It's you we're concerned about. You haven't left this room in hours."

"We're taking a dinner break in thirty minutes," the brunette, Lieutenant Groban, advised. "Why don't you join us?"

Beguiled by the attention of the two attractive nurses, Ducky quickly finger-combed his hair, straightened his bow-tie and flashed his most devilishly charming smile.

"I am very flattered by your concern, dear ladies," he said, with a twinkle in his baby blues, "but I'm afraid I will have to decline your gracious dinner invitation. You see, I gave my word that I would not leave Anthony's side until Special Agent Gibbs returns. "

"Oh, that's a shame," Lieutenant Walker replied with genuine disappointment. "Perhaps another time."

Climbing to his feet, the ME ignored the protest of his stiffened muscles and watched the nurses leave the room. Sighing in resignation, he reached into the bowl on the nightstand, wrung the water from a facecloth and began wiping the sweat from Tony's face and neck.

"Did you hear that, young man?" he whispered to the sleeping agent. "It appears you are not the only one who can turn the heads of the fairer sex. You may be interested to know that in my youth, I had quite the reputation for being a lady's man. In fact, I recall a time when I was travelling through Papua New Guinea, I inadvertently became betrothed to the buxom daughter of a tribal chief. Of course, I later discovered that they were a tribe of head hunters and I was particularly fortunate to escape with my cranium intact."

Chuckling at the memory, the ME turned to see Gibbs standing in the doorway.

"Fever's back?" he asked, his eyes never leaving his agent.

"Just a mild one," Ducky assured him, pausing as the young man started to stir. "He's still fighting the infection and he's experiencing some pain in his back. All in all he's doing rather well."

The thick cloud of tension that had followed Gibbs into the room was almost palpable.

"However, your timing is perfect," Ducky continued, gathering his hat and coat. "Anthony should be waking shortly and I have dinner plans."

Gibbs nodded distractedly and the ME had almost reached the door when the former Marine's voice called quietly.

"Duck?" he said meeting the ME's gaze. "Thanks."

0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0

Gibbs watched as his agent shifted restlessly in the bed. The younger man's brow was drawn into a frown and he mumbled unintelligibly as he drifted toward consciousness. The lead agent dropped heavily into the chair by the window, his tired blue eyes growing dim with recall as flashes of the last tumultuous week rushed back unbidden. He had failed Tony badly and, if they were to move forward, he needed to repair whatever damage had been done.

Despite appearances to the contrary, DiNozzo was a complex man and a difficult person to get to know. There were many layers of false bravado; easy-going nonchalance and feigned apathy to break through before you reached the heart of the real man. Gibbs had spent years trying to breach the nearly impenetrable layers before, little by little; the younger man let him in. He suspected that very few people, not even his teammates, had ever made it past the façade.

Both men were emotionally reticent. Neither was comfortable talking about their feelings and seldom was there a need to express them aloud. Tony and Gibbs often communicated on a subtle non-verbal level where feelings were not spoken but were felt just the same. The lead agent's eyes drifted to the bed where a pair of fever bright eyes was looking back at him.

"You okay, Boss?" Tony croaked.

His voice was scarcely a whisper but hearing Tony's concern was an overwhelming relief.

"You're the one in the hospital, DiNozzo." For the briefest of moments a smile ghosted across his face, then he sobered. "We need to talk."

Tony nodded brusquely and eyed the older man watchfully as Gibbs half-filled a glass of water from the pitcher and handed it to him. Moving the chair closer to the bed, Gibbs took a seat. He huffed in a breath, rolled his neck, and stared up at the ceiling as if the words he needed would suddenly appear there.

"Don't know what to tell you, Tony…can't make sense of it myself. You think you're getting over something, think you're coping…and something triggers inside you. Something or someone takes you right back to the day it happened. Granger was that trigger. He risked his life to save my little girl – I owed him more than I could ever repay…I owed him everything."

The sentence was punctuated with pauses and deep breaths that reflected Gibbs' struggle to put voice to the words. Tony remained silent, his eyes fixed on some indiscriminate point as Gibbs continued.

"The night at the barn lot…I was going to see Granger but you changed my mind," he explained. "I took your CD to Fornell instead."

Although he hadn't seen it happen, when the former Marine closed his eyes, his mind conjured images of Tony falling backward and impaling on the sharp scrap metal protruding from the ground. He imagined the seriously wounded man calling for help as he lay bleeding and in agony; watching Gibbs' drive into the night, leaving him to die. The vision burned into his brain and was certain to wake him in a cold sweat for many nights to come.

"I would never have left if I'd known you were hurt," he said, knowing that time would never assuage his feelings of guilt. "Tell me you know that."

A long moment passed before Tony turned to meet the former Marine's gaze. His throat closed and he swallowed hard to gain control.

"Yeah," he said, his voice a strained whisper. "I know that, Boss."

His gaze slid to the window before coming back to Gibbs.

"What about Granger?"

The question hung in the air as the next few seconds seemed to grow out of all proportion and stretch into infinity.

"Fornell's holding him on three counts of suspicion of murder," he said as a tiny ripple of pain flickered in his eyes and was quickly suppressed. "You were right; Granger shot you, too."

Tony lowered his head, feeling no satisfaction that his suspicions had proven correct.

"Didn't wanna be right," Tony said, wincing as the burning pain in his back increased.

"You kept your head in the game," Gibbs said with genuine pride. "We've been partners a long time. I know how you work, how you think...I know you. I shoulda trusted your instincts. I let you down...and I'm sorry."

"Sign of weakness, Boss?"

"Not between friends…not between us."

As blue eyes met green, the apology was given and received and, in typical DiNozzo fashion, forgiveness followed in the form of a nod and the exchange of wry grins. Almost immediately, Tony's grin faded and an uncomfortable emotion shifted across his face.

"While we're trashing rule number six, Boss," he started sheepishly.

"You apologize for doing your job, DiNozzo, and I'll kick your ass."

"Not gonna apologize for doing my job, Boss, or for getting in your face about Granger," Tony told him. "But I backed you into a corner when I told you I'd take the evidence to Fornell."

Gibbs raked both hands through his hair and released a long steadying breath.

"Backed myself into a corner when I wouldn't look at the damn CD. You were right to get in my face about it. Told you before, I depend on your yabba...now you know why," he shrugged. "Ya think I keep you around for your smile?"

"That's the rumour," Tony replied. flashing his mega-watt grin right on cue.

"A rumour you started, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, enjoying the familiar banter.

"Well, technically, it was started by that smoking hot chick in the recruitment office. I just kept it circulating."

His eyes widened and he gasped as an agonizing spasm sent pain shooting through his back. Gibbs activated the morphine pump as the younger man gripped the edge of the mattress and tightly clenched his jaw to avoid moaning aloud. As the spasm relinquished its cruel grip, Tony breathed deeply through the residual pain. Several moments passed before he felt the pain meds kick in. Opening his eyes, the world rippled like the surface of a pond and he raised his head to see Gibbs' concerned face. Tony treated him to a small, travesty of a smile - one of those little quirks of the lips that looked more like a bad Elvis impersonation.

"I'm fine," he lied. "Well, fine-ish."

He opened his mouth again, as if to speak, but closed it abruptly.

"Something else on your mind?" Gibbs asked, noting Tony's enlarged pupils.

"Just thinking..." Tony said flatly. "I know you and Granger were tight."

"I got distracted…my kid nearly died."

"It was an accident," Tony nodded solemnly. "Kelly was fine, just a few scrapes."

Gibbs studied his agent for a long moment.

"Wasn't talking about Kelly," he said quietly.

The younger man remained silent as he realized the significance of the statement. After a moment, he looked back at his Boss, his eyes filled with words that would probably never be spoken but Gibbs heard them loud and clear.

"Get some sleep," Gibbs said, giving Tony's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I'm not going anywhere."

"If it's all the same to you, Boss, I'd rather stay awake." Tony said battling the effects of the morphine. "I've been having some real crazy-ass dreams. Just before you got here, I had a dream that Ducky was being chased through the jungle by a tribe of big-breasted head-hunters."

Gibbs forced his features into a mask of neutrality, allowing a small smile to hover on his lips as he settled back into his chair and watched his agent's futile battle to stay awake. Tony's eyes grew heavier until, eventually, they remained closed.

A small but critical defect in their relationship as partners had been identified and painfully exploited. But as Tony surrendered to the medication that moved him toward sleep, he did so knowing that the trust that underscored their friendship had been reforged and renewed…it was stronger, more honest and much less likely to fail them again.

0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0

A smile of gratification formed on Ducky's lips as he pulled the door to Tony's room closed and leaned wearily against it.

"Well done, gentlemen, well done," he whispered.

Removing his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose and took several deep breaths, feeling the tension of the past few days lift from his shoulders.

"Doctor Mallard?" a soft female voice said. "Did you change your mind about lunch?"

For the second time in thirty minutes, Ducky's eyes opened to Lieutenants Groban and Walker.

"If your kind invitation still stands, ladies, I would be delighted to accept," he said.

Placing his hands on his hips he waited for the women to link their arms through his before setting off toward the elevator. Ducky took a final glance at the closed door to Tony's room.

"It appears my work here is done."

0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo —oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo- oo00oo-0

A/N:- It has been my pleasure to complete this story. Once again, I thank Zee Viate for her trust, complete autonomy and, particularly, for the gift of her friendship. Thank you to all who reviewed or placed this story on alert. Although the horse changed jockeys mid-race, I hope it didn't break its stride as it raced to the finish line. L

A/N From Zee Viate: Once again, I'm very grateful to Laine for picking up where I left off and taking the story to a wonderful finish. Thanks, Laine, for being an excellent writer and even better friend!