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Title: We'll Meet Again
By: nancy
Pairing: Tony/Gibbs
Fandom: NCIS
Rating: R
Warning: AU
Author's notes: I couldn't have written this without the instant feedback from my friends and instigators, Llaslash, Evl_free, blueraccoon, and Weezy. Thanks for the research help and egging on. *hugs all*
More author's notes: while I did actually do some research for this one, shocking, I know, I'm sure there's plenty of mistakes. keep in mind, this is fanfic and while I tried to be as accurate as possible, I'm not going to sweat the small stuff. or, in this case, the big stuff, since I couldn't find out about American bases in WWII London. *grin* everything else should be kosher, though!
Summary: Sent to wartime London, Lieutenant Commander Tony DiMarco and Captain Jethro Gibson meet for the first time.

***

PART ONE

 

Strange how the cold in London and the cold in DC are two different things, Tony mused, staring out at the river. He was used to cold, growing up in New York and working mostly in DC for his father's law firm. More than used to cold, working for Dad's law firm, Tony thought in dark amusement.

Having grown up in a fairly cosmopolitan household, Tony had been to Europe just about every three years since he'd been born. Germany had been a favorite of his, with the snowball fights and sledding in the winter and, later on, all the pretty blonde girls and boys with whom he'd had to play, in so many ways. But the rumblings from Germany had disturbed him even as far back as '37 when a few of his more outspoken friends had disappeared without a trace.

Tony had enlisted in '40, despite his father's extremely vocal disapproval, because he'd believed that maybe, there was something he could do to help. He knew that it would take a lot to get the States into the war when it came, but Tony could see it coming. Once he'd completed the Air Force's Officers Training School, Tony had immediately gone for flight training. He'd been flying biplanes since he was fifteen and wanted nothing less than the most exciting and dangerous job.

Well, barring test pilot. That was a little too edgy, even for Tony. He wanted to have more than a fifty-fifty shot of making it back alive on a dry run. Flight School was a breeze and the moment that Tony hit the air in a training plane, he'd known that it was exactly where he was supposed to be.

By the time all of his training was done, and he'd finished up his first stint as a lowly pilot, getting some commendations in the Pacific, it was September '42 and the US was embroiled all over the world. Tony could have been sent anywhere, but he'd pulled a return duty in the Pacific for a few months, then got sent back to the States for almost six months doing absolutely nothing, which had pissed him off to no end. By the time he somehow wound up in London, it was little more than a year later in October of '44. He had as yet to fly any actual missions on his new assignment, which was starting to tick him off all over again. Until he did, all he could do was play tourist and go to meetings arranged by his father to help his career, but which bored him until he was ready to crack his head against the nearest wall.

Even from DC, he still controls me, Tony thought with a sigh.

Big Ben struck five and Tony blinked in surprise, looking around the busy street like he hadn't been standing there for over an hour. Shivering a little with the damp cold settled in his bones, he pushed off the stone rail and walked briskly down the sidewalk. The thick, shepherd's sweater only held the cold at bay so much and besides which, he was meeting Donovan for supper at one of the pubs he was so fond of.

It didn't take long to get there, nothing in London was too far from anything else with the bus system in place, and Tony pulled his cap off as he stepped inside. Scanning the room for the roundish young man who'd become a good friend, Tony found him curled up in a chair by the fire with a book and grinned. Didn't matter where in the word he was, Tim always found a warm fire to sit in front of and a book to read.

"Hey, Tabby," Tony greeted, plopping down in the chair beside his friend. "What're you reading?"

Donovan didn't even bother to be annoyed at the nick-name anymore. The rest of the squadron had adopted it almost right away, referring to the code-breaker as a stray they'd picked up. He merely shrugged and answered, "Dinner's almost ready."

"Great! I'm starving," Tony exclaimed, warming his hands in front of the fire.

"You're always hungry."

"I am not."

At that, Donovan did look up, quirking an eyebrow at him. "Name a time you weren't hungry."

Tony thought, then grinned and replied promptly, "In my mother's womb."

"Well you're not there now, are ya bucko?" a new voice observed.

His grin expanded as Tony hopped to his feet and exclaimed, "Abby, my love! Where've you been the rest of my life?"

Abby's grin was just as big as she switched the tray from her shoulder to the small table between the chairs. "Avoiding you, where else?"

"I'm cut to the quick," Tony exclaimed, hand to his heart.

"You're going to be hungry if you don't sit down and take your plate," Abby stated. "I've got other people to serve, you know."

Knowing that she wasn't fooling, Tony quickly grabbed his plate and sat back down.

"Good boy," she purred before picking the tray up again and moving on.

Tony's gaze followed her ample figure with pleasure. She was a bit skinnier than most of the guys liked, not much of a curve to her, but Tony was more than happy with the slender figure. And the long dark hair. And the brilliant blue eyes. And the ample breasts. And the... "Ow! What the...Tabby!"

Donovan didn't even look up from his book as his hand retracted from hitting Tony upside the back of his head. "It's not polite to stare. Even less so at a lady."

Considering some of the things he and Abby had done together, Tony knew she was no lady, but kept that fact to himself. He knew Tim had a crush on her and besides, it wasn't like Abby was some streetwalker. She was just...openly affectionate...with men she liked. In the rest of the ways that counted, really, she was a lady, if an unusual one.

Tony leaned over and said, "I've got a date with Sharon on Friday. Ask Abby and we'll make it a double."

Donovan looked over at him, rattled for the first time, and shook his head. "I can't."

"Sure you can, Tabby! Just open your mouth and ask, 'Abby, you want to go to the movies when me and Tony?'"

"I'd love to, Donovan," Abby exclaimed as she walked by.

When Donovan swallowed his own tongue and started choking, Tony burst out laughing.

*  *  *  *

Leaning heavily on his cane, Jethro walked slowly down the street on his way to HQ. He could have taken a tram or cab, but wanted to get the feel of his new city from the ground up, even if it hurt like hell. It really is amazing, he mused, walking along the streets, how much the city had survived over the course of the war. The damage from bombs in the Blitz back in '40 varied from neighborhood to neighborhood and he passed burnt out wreckage after perfectly normal row houses, depending on where he was in the city. And while the new rash of bombings weren't as intense as the Blitz, the V-1's and V-2's were more than destructive enough in their own right. Worse still, there wasn't any formalized notice for the citizens to take whatever shelter they could when it happened.

This would be his last assignment, Jethro knew it without being told. If they didn't need his knowledge and experience so badly, he'd already have been put out to pasture. As it was, being in charge of the new, experimental unit was more of a 'keep him busy 'til he croaks,' kind of honor, than anything else. Jethro snorted at the thought and then grimaced as a loose cobble caused him to come down hard enough on his left leg to hurt all the way up his body.

The one thing he could be grateful for was that his outside didn't match his inside. If it did, he'd be scaring children just by walking down the street. It was a long walk to his apartment and by the time he got there, his entire left side was throbbing with pain. Looking at the stairs that led inside and knowing there were even more stairs to get to the second floor where he rented a room, Jethro sighed and slowly lowered himself to the nearest step.

The whole recovery was going better than any of the doctors had anticipated, but Jethro was in pain most of the time he was vertical. Not all of the shrapnel had been able to be removed; some lodged far too close to his spine, and others buried into actual bone, but none of it was life threatening. Not yet, at least. He'd been lucky to survive and he knew it, but that didn't help manage the pain any.

So he dealt as best he could and became a surly bastard in the meantime. Most of his crew were scared spitless of him, which was exactly how he wanted it. Bad enough he'd lost too many men in his platoon, friends and equals. He wasn't about to get attached to any of the fresh-faced boys he now had to train and send off to war as so much fodder.

"Gimme yer money!"

Jolted from his thoughts by the ugly demand, Jethro focused on the too-skinny young man in front of him, wielding a knife. Not much of a knife, granted, but it looked sharp enough to do damage if used properly. Keeping his voice mild, Jethro informed him, "You're holding the knife wrong."

The would-be thief gaped at him, but recovered quickly. "Just gimme yer money and y'won't get hurt!"

"You can't hurt me," Jethro said patiently. "Not with that stance. Your balance is off."

"Listen old man, shut yer bleedin' mouth and gimme yer money!" the thief exclaimed, stepping closer and brandishing the knife.

Which was exactly what Jethro had been waiting for. Slicing his cane upwards to crack into the thief's knife hand, the blade went flying into the apartment building wall. It was only a matter of twisting the cane to crack it against the kid's skull and send him reeling against the street pole a couple of feet away. When the kid staggered down the street holding his head, Jethro snorted and called after him, "Old man, my ass," and slowly got to his feet.

Fortunately, the encounter hadn't taken all that much effort, so he was able to climb the stairs with a little more energy than when he'd first reached them.

"Captain Gibson! Dear Lord, are you all right!?" Mrs. Mallard exclaimed, rushing out onto the stoop to meet him. "I've already phoned the police to go after that miscreant!"

Jethro waved it off and shrugged out of his jacket as he assured her, "Don't worry about it, Mrs. Mallard, I'm fine."

"Well, at least let me draw you a hot bath," she offered, taking his jacket.

Thinking how good it would feel to be immersed in hot water, Jethro accepted, "Thanks, Mrs. Mallard, that would be great."

"Oh it's our pleasure, Captain, honestly," she gushed, then turned to bellow, "Donald! Get yourself down here instantly!"

It always amazed him that such a small woman could give a drill sergeant a run for his money.

The skinny ten-year-old slid down the banister to land on the floor in front of them with a thump. Mrs. Mallard casually cuffed him behind the ear and ordered, "Go draw a bath for the Captain."

"Yes, Mum!" Ducky piped up, giving Jethro a shy smile from behind thick glasses before scampering back upstairs.

Jethro couldn't help but smile at the boy's antics, even as the mother shook her head and sighed. Hoping to forestall another lecture on the lack of obedience in today's youth, her son included, Jethro said quickly, "That's a fine boy you've got there, Mrs. Mallard. I can tell he's going to make you proud, one day."

She huffed in disbelief, but only replied, "Dinner's at seven, Captain. Shall I have Donald bring it up?"

Jethro thought about it and said, "If it's not too much trouble?"

"Of course it isn't," she agreed, smiling broadly. "Not for yourself."

Clearing his throat, Jethro nodded politely and started making his way up the long flight of steps. He could have had regular quarters at the base, but had decided to start weaning himself off military comforts, such as they were. He'd been in the Navy his entire life and it was time to make his way in the world as best he could. It seemed fitting that his last assignment would be the one to get him back into life as a civilian.

He aimed straight for the common bathroom that he shared with two other tenants and the Mallards, not bothering with a change of clothes. Ducky would grab his robe for him without even being asked. He was a thoughtful boy and smart as a whip, someone that Jethro couldn't help being drawn to, despite the forty-odd year gap between them. They played chess some nights to pass the time and Ducky like to read whatever military manual Jethro left lying around his room.

Jethro felt for the boy, growing up in a tiny village in Scotland, then being transplanted to London with the death of his father only the year before. Despite the hardships of life in a wartime London, he could imagine that it was better than wherever the Mallards had come from. Life was hard just about everywhere. City life was overwhelming for Ducky, though, and he took refuge in knowledge and adults, by and large avoiding kids his own age with a wide berth. If he did nothing else for the rest of the war, Jethro had made it his mission to draw the boy out so that he could get some friends his own age.

Opening the door to the bathroom, Jethro sighed in pleasure as the steam from the tub circled around him. "Thanks, Duck."

The boy grinned up at him and answered, "No trouble at all, Captain! I got your robe for ya."

The thick accent was a lot cuter on Ducky, than his mother and Jethro rubbed the kid's head, messing up his hair. "I appreciate it. How was school?"

Making a face, Ducky answered, "Same as yesterday."

Jethro winced. "How much did they get?"

"I left my allowance home, like you suggested," Ducky reported. "So they just messed up my books a bit."

"We'll start that boxing regimen next week," Jethro promised.

Ducky beamed at him. "Thanks, Captain!"

Jethro tweaked his nose and ordered, "Out with you. Time for an old man to take a bath."

Once the kid was gone, Jethro closed the door and sighed as he started to undress. He had to sit on the large tub to support himself as he pulled off the shirt and tossed it onto the toilet. Pants and briefs were tricky, but he took it slow and bent carefully to pick them up to set them with the shirt. It was better to get it over with before he'd soaked and relaxed in the tub, than to try and move after.

Looking at himself in the mirror, Jethro scowled and resisted the temptation to punch the glass in. He was old before his time, reduced to half a life, thanks to something he'd had absolutely no control over, and now had to move carefully, cautiously. To a man who'd lived his life hard and fast and dangerous, it was sometimes worse than death.

Pushing aside the dark thoughts, Jethro slowly climbed into the hot water and sank gratefully into its depths.

*  *  *  *

Tony leaned over towards Tim and murmured, "I hear this new CO's a real bastard."

"He was badly injured and he's Navy," Donovan replied dryly. "I wouldn't expect him to be anything else."

Snickering, Tony asked, "What do you think the chances are that he actually knows what he's talking about?"

"Pretty damn good, I'd say," a voice snapped as someone limped passed him.

Tony flinched at the harsh tone and instantly jumped to attention, just as the rest of the men in the briefing room did. Cold blue eyes glared at him from the podium in front and Tony immediately shifted his eyes to a spot on the wall.

"And since you're so full of questions, Lieutenant, why don't you ask me if I give a rat's ass what you think about anything? No? Didn't think so. What the hell is your name, Lieutenant?"

"Lieutenant Commander Anthony DiMarco, Sir!"

"Well, Lieutenant Commander Anthony DiMarco, I think you and I are going to get very well acquainted after class is done. Everyone sit, except for Lieutenant Commander Anthony DiMarco."

Tony groaned silently, mentally smacking himself in the forehead as everyone else sat back down. Keeping his eyes on that same spot the entire two hours that he stood through class, Tony listened intently to the surprisingly knowledgeable lecture on concealment behind enemy lines. He couldn't actively participate in the question and answer portion, given his singled-out status, but Donovan asked intelligent questions for him and he soaked it all in. When the class was dismissed, Tony stayed exactly where he was, waiting for the rest of his reprimand.

"Think you're hot stuff, do you DiMarco?" Gibson asked quietly.

Somehow, it felt a hell of a lot more dangerous now that he was alone with the instructor, even given the cane and how much the man leaned on it. There was, of course, only one right answer.

"Sir, yes, Sir!"

"That's what I thought. You can report to Zeta Squadron at 0500 tomorrow morning. Dismissed!"

Tony saluted automatically, turned sharply on his heel, and strode from the briefing room. Once outside, he sagged a little in relief that he was only being given scut work instead of some truly horrendous duty.

*  *  *  *

Zeta Squadron, however, turned out to not be anything like rumor had it. There were no mops cleaning supplies, or a board designating KP assignments. It was a large room with lots of audio equipment and people hurrying around like they were on important missions; which maybe they were.

Keeping firmly to attention, Tony grabbed the first person of lesser rank that he saw and stated, "I was told to report here. Who do I report to?"

The young man, a Naval Corporal, jerked a thumb towards a raised dais at the back before continuing on his way. Surprised by the lack of formal response, Tony frowned after the kid and then walked over to the dais. Gibson was there, along with an Admiral, and a few other Captains, but everyone present was Navy, save him.

"Good of you to join us, DiMarco," Gibson snapped. "Plant your ass in that seat and don't open your mouth unless spoken to."

Jaw clenched tight enough to crack walnuts, Tony did as he was told and sat in the seat indicated. Ten minutes into the briefing, however, the clench was gone and he leaned eagerly forward to catch as many details as he could coming from the ranked group.

Gibson finally glanced over at him and asked, "Think you can pull it off, DiMarco?"

"Yes, Sir!" Tony exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

Giving him a dark look, Gibson replied, "We'll see. Get your ass down to deployment."

Tony saluted everyone present, turned sharply on his heel, and exited the command center that only certain people, apparently, knew existed.

*  *  *  *

Jethro had already picked DiMarco out as the pilot they needed for the mission, just from his jacket. Meeting the kid in person had only confirmed the paperwork; DiMarco lived life fast and hard, just like he had, and could back up the mouthing-off with serious flying skills. His record was impossible to believe and if he hadn't kept getting into trouble for insubordination and winding up in the wrong damn bed, he'd probably already be Commander at the tender age of twenty-seven.

As it was, Jethro could only admire the brash confidence the young man exuded and hope that life didn't eventually extinguish it. They needed more men like him, truth be told; those who would stand up to the status quo and say what needed to be said, do what needed to be done.

Pulling himself out of the brief reverie, Jethro turned to Admiral Morrow and said, "He'll be ready in thirty minutes, Sir. Take off is scheduled for 0600."

Morrow didn't look all that impressed by DiMarco. "You're sure he can pull it off?"

"Yes, Sir," Jethro confirmed.

Inclining his head, Morrow pointed out, "It's your ass, Jethro. Let's hope your boy can do what you say he can."

Jethro lowered himself into the nearest chair, trying to ignore the back spasms, and replied, "He can, Sir."

*  *  *  *

The mission was straightforward, if not easy: fly into Germany, pick up a spy, fly back. He had a designated landing field where she would be waiting at 2100 that night. The fact that it was a woman completely blew his socks off, but Tony was more excited by the mission itself. He had the latest in flight technology under his fingers and a prettier, more responsive plane than he'd ever flown. On top of that, it would all be low flying without a break, thanks to the auxiliary gas tanks. He would literally be peeing in a cup for this one, which actually sucked. The rest of it was great, though.

The route to the field outside a small town in southern Germany was fairly straightforward. He wasn't going to be passing over enemy territory until the last leg and could relax for most of the mission. He was right on time and set down in the field without a hitch, which actually worried him more than if he'd been greeted with guns blazing. Popping the top, Tony climbed out of the plane and jumped down on the hard ground, scanning the area with his hand on his gun.

Tugging off his helmet and shaking his head clean, Tony walked only five feet from his plane in any direction as he looked for the spy. That was the maximum distance he would go, knowing he could be inside and fired up in half a minute, then in the air in two, as long as he didn't go beyond that.

"Hey flyboy!" a woman's voice called out. "Over here!"

Tony spun west to find the woman dressed in men's clothing jogging towards him. Not that she could be mistaken for a man by anyone who wasn't blind. Long, reddish-brown hair, a nice curve to the hips and waist, and very pretty features. Meeting her halfway, Tony saw her eyes were hazel and her grin just as insolent as his own as she smirked at him.

"Took you long enough to get here," she greeted in a distinctly Irish accent. "I've been waiting on you for nearly an hour."

Eyebrows raising, Tony asked, "I thought the Irish were neutral in all this."

"I'm American," she explained. "And in case you were wondering, the grass is always greener on the other side."

Right. Code phrase.

"Only if you use the right fertilizer. Speaking of, we need to get back in the air before it hits the fan," Tony said firmly.

She grinned at him and climbed into the copilot's seat. Tony put his helmet back on and did the same, getting settled as easily as walking. They were in the air in two minutes flat and heading south west only a minute after that.

"So what's your name?" Tony asked, keeping his eye on the horizon.

"Caitlin McMurdock. You?"

Tim would love this one, an Irish, female spy. If only I could tell him, Tony thought with a grin. "Tony DiMarco."

"Well, Tony. What say you get this bird flying faster and we'll be home in time for breakfast?"

Tony grinned. "If you really want me to."

She let out a yelp of fright when Tony leaned on the throttle and his grin got bigger.

*  *  *  *

"If you ever, put me in another plane with that, that, with him, I quit!"

Tony grinned as he sauntered down the hall, away from where Caitlin was making her very loud report. He'd decided to throw in a few loops now and again to put the confident woman off her stride, but stopped just short of making her vomit.

"Pleased with yourself, DiMarco?"

Immediately coming to attention, Tony wiped the grin from his face and barked, "Sir, yes, Sir!"

"At ease."

Relaxing a little, Tony looked at his CO and told him, "She said she wanted to be here by breakfast, Sir."

Is that an actual smirk? he wondered in astonishment.

As if sensing that he was close to displaying actual amusement, the potential smirk vanished and Gibson replied dryly, "Next time, try not to make her lose hers."

"Next time?" Tony asked, surprised.

Gibson nodded. "You're going to be her regular pilot. The Irish are neutral, so we've got Agent McMurdock fitted with a fake passport. The locations will change, but you're her new chauffeur. I suggest you make peace with her in some fashion because I've seen her make men's lives very difficult."

Tony snorted and said, "The day I can't handle a woman, Sir..."

At that, Gibson's lips did twist into a kind of grin, and he said, "It's your funeral," before walking slowly down the hall, towards the briefing room.

Frowning after the other man, Tony thought slowly, He wouldn't have bothered to warn me if he didn't think there was some kind of danger.

Tony decided to take the man's advice and hearkened off to the nearest florist shop off shift.

*  *  *  *

Wincing when he saw the headless flowers on his doorstep the following morning, Tony picked them up and thought, This could be more difficult than I thought.

"Dear God. What happened to the poor flowers?" Donovan asked from behind.

Turning to his roommate, Tony shrugged and said, "I guess the lady wasn't interested."

"Guess not. You flying another mission today?"

"Not that I know of. You want to grab some chow?"

"Sounds good."

Tony nodded and waited while Donovan gathered briefcase, books, backpack, coat, and hat, and somehow managed to put them all in order so that he wouldn't drop everything. Shaking his head fondly, Tony clapped the other man on the back and informed him, "One of these days, Donovan, we're going to get you a woman."

Flushing, Donovan exclaimed, "Don't even think about setting me up on another date!"

"Oh come on, Tabby, it wasn't that bad!" Tony protested as they entered the main corridor of the base living quarters. "Gina was a very nice girl. With a very talented tongue, I might add."

Donovan groaned and said, "I'm perfectly happy with my books, Tony, thank you."

"Oh yeah? Then how come you still stammer around Abby and you've known her for three months?" Tony pressed. "And you aren't getting out of the double-date on Friday, by the way."

"Tony..."

Swallowing a laugh at the distinctly whiney edge, Tony said, "You're going, and that's final. It's for your own good, Tabby! How else are your folks going to get any grandkids, if I don't get involved?"

"Kill me," Donovan moaned.

"Seems to be a common reaction around DiMarco," Caitlin said as she joined them.

Giving her a wary look, Tony greeted, "Morning, Caitlin. Something I can do for you?"

Caitlin smiled, looking a lot like the cat that ate the canary, and Tony was abruptly reminded that this woman was a spy and could probably eat him for breakfast.

"Just thought I would join you boys for breakfast. Aren't you going to introduce us?"

Squinting at her suspiciously, Tony couldn't not introduce them and so said, "Miss. Caitlin McMurdock, this is my roommate, Commander Tim Donovan."

The two shook hands across him and then they all continued walking towards the mess.

"So, you're not in the military?" Tim asked as they stood in line.

Caitlin nodded and answered easily, "I work for the State Department on various assignments. There's always room for a good secretary. We're worth our weight in gold, you know."

Tony arched an eyebrow at the blatant lie, but Tim only nodded and exclaimed, "That is so true! You know, I had this assistant once in college and you wouldn't believe the chaos my life was with her! I mean, she couldn't even get my schedule right and it didn't even vary. Without the right secretary, life is absolute hell. Oh! Pardon the language, Miss. McMurdock!"

Giving him her complete attention, Caitlin smiled and took his arm. "You have no idea how right you are. And please, it's Caitlin."

Eyes rolling, Tony followed them to a table.

*  *  *  *

Wandering aimlessly through the base on his time off, Tony couldn't help feeling at loose ends while he was off-duty. There wasn't anything for him to do. Tim and Caitlin were still chatting about books back in the mess and Abby wouldn't be on her shift yet. He finally headed for the rec room in hopes of striking up a pool game with someone, even at ten in the morning, but there was only one person there and he definitely didn't look like he wanted to be disturbed.

"Have a seat, DiMarco," Gibson ordered as Tony tried to quietly back out of the room.

Caught, Tony pasted on a smile and joined his CO at the table where the man was studying a chess board. "Morning, Sir."

"Sit."

Tony sat.

"You play?" Gibson asked, finally looking up at him.

Shrugging, Tony answered, "Not really. I mean, I used to, but not for a long time now."

That barely-there smirk was back as Gibson questioned, "Too hard?"

Tony straightened in response to the challenge and answered, "Care to find out, Sir?"

"Only if it involves money."

"Gambling's against regs, Sir."

"I won't tell if you don't. C'mon, DiMarco, make it interesting. I never took you for a rules and regs kinda guy."

Tony contemplated the man before him, but the poker mask was impenetrable. Finally, he said, "Okay then. Twenty says I take two out of three."

"Well now, that is interesting," Gibson murmured. "And confident."

"We have a bet?"

Blue eyes sparkled at him briefly before the mask returned and his CO corrected, "No, DiMarco, we have an understanding."

Tony grinned and started to set up the board.

 

PART TWO

 

The 'understanding' between himself and DiMarco turned out to be a lot more fun and challenging than Jethro could ever have expected. He discovered a depth to the man that was certainly not visible in either his jacket, or the personality that he presented to the people around him. He was an unbelievable strategist and Jethro made a firm bet with himself never to play poker with the man. Ever. His good humor and readiness to laugh at himself was endearing in a way to which Jethro couldn't help but respond.

Their games didn't happen often enough, in Jethro's opinion. He looked forward to the times when they were both off and he could limp down to the rec room where DiMarco would be setting up the board, or already have the pieces lined up. It was on their fifth such game, after Tony had picked up Caitlin for the second time, that conversation turned a little more personal than he liked.

"So you never married, or is there a Mrs. Gibson waiting back home?"

Jethro gave the younger man a sharp look, then returned to contemplating the board. He couldn't very well cut the man off by hiding behind rank, they were too far beyond that now, but it wasn't like he could admit to the fact that women did nothing for him. He finally settled on, "The Navy's been my life for my entire adult life. Didn't want to subject a woman to that kind of vagabond existence."

"Ah."

Shooting him another sharp look, Jethro found nothing but understanding on the young man's face and couldn't help but demand, "What?"

"Nothing," Tony replied, smiling. "I figured it was something like that."

'Something like that,' could mean anything, Jethro thought, looking down at the pieces again. He finally moved a pawn and sat back, absently rubbing his aching thigh. He could've taken it at face value.

But somehow, Jethro didn't think that was the case. Tony was a hell of a lot smarter than he pretended to be, more perceptive too, and well able to read between the lines.

"Well that wasn't very bright of you," Tony observed, moving his knight into check.

Jethro looked at the changed board and grimaced, seeing his Queen exposed. No matter where he moved her, she would be in danger of capture in only two or three moves, depending on what Tony did to counter him. He pinned Tony with a glare and said, "You distracted me."

"Of course I did. I want to win."

The bright grin diffused Jethro's irritation and he snorted, knocking his Queen over. "Line 'em up again."

But the ground shook and, seconds later, a warning siren pierced the air just then. Tony jumped to his feet and ran for the exit while Jethro cursed his body into standing and moving faster than it had any intention of going. By the time he was in the hall, men and women were running to emergency positions, so he hugged the wall to keep out of the way. The building shook and Jethro staggered, almost losing his balance. He had to stop at the next doorframe when the building shook again and stay put, for fear of falling over altogether.

The air raid siren continued and Jethro couldn't help but think of Tony, knowing he was gearing up to get in the air and fight, possibly die, to save those on the ground.

*  *  *  *

Tony went through flight check without even thinking about it, hands moving over the controls, eyes taking in the gauges, until everything was right where it was supposed to be. He was lined up to be third in the air and waited impatiently for the others to get moving, anxious to take a shot at the bastards who dared to come at them like this.

Cowards, he thought hatefully. Takes a lot of guts for a surprise attack like Pearl or to bomb innocent civilians.

And then he was in the air and his entire being was focused on chasing down and blowing his opponents out of the sky.

*  *  *  *

By the time it was over, Jethro was on the ground, trying not to draw attention to himself as people continued to hurry about their business. His back continued to spasm and sharp pains lanced through his leg. All he could do was ride it out and hope no one noticed him until he could stand up again.

"Captain Gibson? Oh gosh, Sir, are you all right?"

Too late, he thought with a sigh. Looking up, he spotted Tony's roommate, Commander Donovan, rushing towards him. "I'm fine. Just lost my footing is all."

"Here, let me help you," Donovan offered, reaching down for him.

And while it galled him something fierce, Jethro had no choice but to accept his help. Fortunately, there was nothing but a sincere desire to help on the young man's face, no pity or sympathy, which made it a little easier to bear.

Once he was upright, Donovan stepped back and asked, "Did you need anything else, Sir?"

"No, thanks, Commander. Go on with what you were doing," Jethro ordered.

Donovan saluted and rushed on without a backward glance, intent on his duties.

Lips pursed thoughtfully as he watched the rounded young man hurry off, Jethro wondered just what it was that had driven Donovan through the ranks at such a young age. He was only twenty-five, an unheard of age to reach Commander, so there had to be something about him besides his willingness to help.

Once he was sure that he could walk without disgracing himself again, Jethro moved slowly towards Command to find out what was going on...and who had survived the dog fights in the air above them.

*  *  *  *

It was late that night before Tony even had the chance to hunt down Jethro. First was seeing a medic for the stitches he needed and then was debriefing. After that, he wound up back on the tarmac working with the flight crew on maintenance. Three of the mechanics had been hurt in the attack and were in the infirmary, leaving them short staffed until replacements could be brought in from another base. Somewhere in there, someone shoved a couple of sandwiches that he chowed down on and he managed to take a piss at least once when he was sure no one was looking.

Tony was thoroughly exhausted as he headed for Command, figuring that he would find his CO there, even hours after everything was over. Jethro was nothing, if not a stickler for detail, and he would make sure everyone's I's were dotted and their T's were crossed. Searching the room from the doorway, Tony frowned at not seeing the man anywhere inside.

"Something we can do for you, Lieutenant?"

Jumping a little, straightening into attention at the Admiral's gravely question, Tony saluted and waited to be released from it before replying, "No, Sir!"

"Then why are you here?" Morrow questioned, blue eyes cold. "You didn't get enough action in the air?"

Tony hesitated briefly, then said, "I was looking for Captain Gibson, Sir."

For a long moment, Morrow simply looked him in the eyes, as if trying to judge the very marrow of him. Finally, the man informed him, "At ease, Commander. I sent him home a couple of hours ago, Lieutenant. You can find him there."

"Would the Admiral be able to direct me?" Tony asked, hoping against hope the man would. He'd already dated and dumped most of the administrative staff, so getting the address would be a bitch if he had to do it that way.

A flash of amusement crossed the hardened face, as if knowing that were the case, and Morrow answered, "You can find him at 112 Wilcox St."

"Thank you, Sir!" Tony exclaimed, saluting again.

Morrow returned the salute briefly, releasing him, and then brushed by him to stride into the room.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Tony hurried away in search of Jethro, worried about why he'd needed to be sent home in the first place. He knew the other man hid a lot of the pain that he was in, so it had to have been very bad indeed for the Admiral to override him and order him home.

*  *  *  *

It took a good twenty minutes to navigate his way through the city, but finally Tony wound up at 112 Wilcox St. and rang the bell. When no one showed up, he rang again, longer this time. Finally, a petite, frazzled looking woman answered the door with a furious and very hard to understand, "What in the world are you doing here at this time of night? Who are you? What do you what? I'll ring for the police if you don't speak up!"

Sorting through the thick and, he thought, Scottish, accent, Tony exclaimed, "I'm sorry, ma'am, didn't realize just how late it was. I was looking for Captain Gibson. They told me he'd been sent home and I was worried that he'd somehow hurt himself, what with his injuries."

She scowled up at him and answered, "He's here, and he's in bed, and I doubt he'd appreciate being woken for the likes of you."

Which was when he remembered, abruptly, that he was dressed in an oil-stained uniform, probably had a dirty face and wild hair. It was no wonder the door was open only a couple of inches with the chain still across. Wincing, he apologized, "I'm really sorry, ma'am, didn't mean to bother you."

"Mrs. Mallard, it's all right, I work with Lieutenant Commander DiMarco," Jethro called from inside. "You can let him in."

The irritated expression deepened, but she unchained the door and let Tony in, even as she muttered, as an apparent curse, "Italian. Should've known."

He found himself glared at the entire way into the foyer and offered her a weak smile as he handed over his jacket and then looked up the stairs to where Jethro waited. The other man was dressed only in a robe and looked almost haggard with pain. Concerned, Tony nonetheless bobbed his head politely to Mrs. Mallard before climbing the stairs. Stopping on the second floor, he asked softly, "Are you all right?"

Jethro grimaced and didn't answer, jerking his head behind him and turning to walk in that direction. Tony followed close behind and was led into a fairly substantial room lined with dresser, double bed, and bookcases that overflowed. Closing the door behind him, Tony watched as the other man slowly lowered himself onto the bed and then leaned back at an odd angle. That Jethro felt comfortable enough in his company to show such weakness sent a warm pang through him.

Crossing over to the bed, Tony sat down beside Jethro and apologized, "Sorry for the late hour. I honestly didn't even think about it when I came here."

Jethro offered a quirk of the lips that passed for a smile, then said, "I figured. Everything okay on base?"

"Everything's fine," Tony assured him. "I was just worried when the Admiral said he'd sent you home."

A scowl surfaced briefly, but it was as if the officer didn't even have the energy to maintain it, because the expression swiftly faded. "I'm fine, Tony, thanks for the concern."

"You're not fine, and if you let me, I think I can help."

"Help? Nothing can help this."

"I really think I can," Tony insisted. "But you have to trust me."

Jethro stared at him for a long moment, then asked, "What do you want to do?"

"My family spent a lot of time in Sweden when I was growing up, well, all over Europe really, so the kids I spent time with were from all social spheres. Not that my father approved, but Mom was adamant that I do pretty much whatever I wanted."

"So you were spoiled."

Tony grinned and confirmed, "Rotten."

"Why am I not surprised?" Jethro muttered, but there was a faint smile in place when he said it.

"The point is, that I learned the art of massage at a young age and have had plenty of opportunity to perfect it over the years, believe me," Tony said, winking.

Jethro arched an eyebrow at him. "What the hell is a massage?"

Tony thought about how to explain it, then said, "Well, it's like a shoulder rub, only all over. Goes right for the muscles that cause the most trouble, getting knotted up and out of place. Basically, you lie down and I, ah, straddle you, and rub your back and shoulders."

Which doesn't sound all that on the up and up, put that way, Tony realized, flushing.

It was a sign of just how much pain Jethro was in that he simply grunted agreement and ordered, "Move and then help me lie down how you need me."

A loaded question if ever Tony had heard one, but only from his side of things, he knew. It took a few minutes to get Jethro out of his robe and stretched out on the bed, but Tony was straddled over him only seconds later. Looking at the massive scars on Jethro's back sent a flush of belated panic through him at just how much damage had been done to the man beneath him. If the land mine that Jethro had apparently stepped on had truly done its job, then they never would have met.

Shaking off the thought, Tony kept himself on his knees, careful not to put any weight on the fragile man lying on the bed. He knew, then, just how strong Jethro's will was, because anyone else would have succumbed to what had to be agonizing pain. Making an assumption, he said casually, "I don't have any oils with me, but I'll bring some next time."

"Let's just see how this goes first," Jethro said, voice somewhat muffled by the pillow.

Tony smiled, glad he hadn't been rebuffed completely, and began with the neck. He moved slowly, ever so slowly, downward and discovered that the muscles were a complete mess, not a big surprise. It took a long time to get all the way down to Jethro's waist and by then, the other man was utterly pliant, his breathing deep and slow, assuring Tony that he was already asleep. From there it was the arms, and he ended by doing the legs all the way down to the callused toes, not wanting to stop.

Just as well he's so out of it, Tony thought ruefully, his own body now very tense from having had his hands on his CO for a couple of hours. It wasn't the sort of tension that any normal American man would ever own up to feeling, at least not for another man. He carefully climbed off the bed and pushed his feet into his shoes before taking one last look at Jethro, peacefully asleep with his face mashed into the pillow. Smiling at the sight, Tony sighed wistfully and left the room, closing the door as silently as he knew how and then tip-toeing down the stairs to grab his jacket.

Once outside in the bitter damp of a November predawn in London, Tony looked up at the barely-there moon and smiled, feeling better than he had in weeks. He walked down the street, whistling a jaunty tune.

*  *  *  *

Jethro woke on his stomach, which wasn't unusual since he'd been injured, but mostly pain-free, which was. Frowning, he moved cautiously onto his side and then into a sitting position only to discover that he was, indeed, merely sore instead of in active pain. Eyebrows raised in pure astonishment, Jethro took hold of his cane and slowly got to his feet. The area around his spine, which was always the worst, was merely a dull throb and he smiled outright at the results of Tony's 'massage.'

Not wanting to jinx anything, he used the cane on his way to the bathroom, but was able to simply lean on the sink as he shaved and prepared for the day. He smiled at one of the other renters on his way back to his room, getting a double take, and that made him smile even more. He was in the middle of getting dressed when the bedroom door opened unexpectedly. A shocked gasp announced Ducky's presence and the boy's view of Jethro's back. Thankful that he at least had his pants already on, Jethro grimaced and turned to face the kid, admonishing, "That's why you're supposed to knock, Ducky, to make sure you don't see something you shouldn't."

"I, I'm sorry, Captain!" Ducky exclaimed, eyes wide behind his glasses. "I didn't mean to, to pry!"

Jethro waved it off and said, "It's okay, son. Where's the fire?"

"Mum says there's some Italian man waiting for you downstairs. He brought coffee," Ducky explained, practically whispering the last word in awe. Then he recovered himself and said matter-of-factly, "Mum still doesn't like him."

Chuckling, Jethro replied, "I'm sure she doesn't. Tell them I'll be down in a few minutes."

Ducky nodded and scampered off, closing the door behind him.

After pulling the rest of his clothes on and taking the extra time to make sure that his uniform was smooth and correct, Jethro headed downstairs, taking them slowly. He didn't want to risk messing up his body again, enjoying the nearly pain-free use of it for the first time in over a year. Turning into the dining room, Jethro smiled to find Tony entertaining a wide-eyed Ducky with some story that came to an abrupt halt when Mrs. Mallard reentered the room.

Jethro hid a grin and forestalled the storm clouds by greeting, "Morning, Lieutenant. I hear you brought coffee?"

"I've got it percolating now, Captain," Mrs. Mallard answered, smiling at him and somehow delivering an almost simultaneous frown to Tony. "Should be ready in a few minutes, as I know you like yours strong."

"Thank you, ma'am," Jethro replied, taking the seat beside Tony.

Tony gave him a brief grin and asked, "How're you feeling today, Captain?"

"Better, thanks."

"You sound surprised."

"I am."

Tony grinned at the honest response. "Don't worry, Sir, I won't take it personally."

Ducky leaned on the table on the other side of Tony and asked, "You really get to fly in planes and shoot Jerry out of the sky?"

Nodding, Tony replied, "Sure do. You know, if it's okay with your Mom, I could let you sit in one of them."

Jethro didn't think it was possible, but the kid's eyes got even bigger and he breathed, "Really? You'd do that?"

"Absolutely!" Tony agreed.

Catching sight of Mrs. Mallard's disapproving look, Jethro hastened to say, "It's perfectly safe, Mrs. Mallard, and I would of course go with them as chaperone."

Still not looking all that pleased, she nonetheless nodded and agreed, "All right then. Why don't you gentlemen tuck in while I get the coffee?"

A couple of the other boarders had arrived for breakfast and Ducky headed out shortly thereafter for school. But not before Tony had told him to mention to his friends that he was going to get to sit in a real fighter plane after school that afternoon.

Jethro just shook his head once Ducky was gone and observed, "Good thing we already started boxing lessons."

"Oh c'mon, Captain, the kid'll be fine," Tony assured him. "Just needs to get some confidence and a couple of admirers at school and he'll be all set."

"I thought you didn't go to school."

"Well, I went to college."

"Completely different, rich boy."

Tony grinned, not in the least offended.

*  *  *  *

It turned out that Commander Donovan had a higher security clearance than Jethro did, which rankled somewhat as he looked through the man's jacket. Donovan had skipped a total of three grades in public school, graduated valedictorian of his high school class at the age of fifteen, and gone on to study at Harvard on a scholarship until he was eighteen. At that time, he'd enlisted in the Air Force OTS whereupon he'd been immediately pulled into the making and breaking of codes, and that was where'd he'd stayed for the last five years.

A knock at the door had him looking up to find the young man in question outside his office door. Jethro waved him in and went back to leafing through the file. "Have a seat, Commander."

The young man sat and then nervously shifted in the chair in front of Jethro's desk. He kept the commander waiting a few minutes longer, leisurely turning pages in the obvious personnel folder and letting the nervousness grow, just to appease the imp on his shoulder. Finally, he glanced over at the commander and said, "I'm looking for someone to devise a code for an operative in deep cover. It should be simple enough for her to memorize in a short amount of time, but difficult to break."

"Ah, for, for written or verbal, Sir?" Donovan questioned.

"Written. The messages will be couriered through a grapevine. No more than five words in a sentence."

"You want just words? No numbers?"

"Don't want to alert anyone that it is actually a code," Jethro pointed out mildly. "If the messages get intercepted, they should read at face value, 'A loaf of bread,' or whatever."

Clearly already on the order, nerves fading as his mind took over, Donovan nodded. "Understood, Sir. Will there be anything else?"

"That's all, Commander. Dismissed."

Donovan stood, saluted, and turned sharply before leaving.

Jethro grinned a bit and closed the file, knowing all he really needed to about the young man. His mind turned to a more pleasant occupation, such as Tony. The night before had been a revelation in more ways than one. He knew that Tony hadn't meant to do it, but Jethro had felt the hard length of him under the uniform slacks as the young man had rubbed his hands over Jethro's body. It told him that Tony was like him, that they were both...whatever it was they were. Not normal, unfortunately, and certainly not something he would wish on anyone so young as to have their whole lives ahead of them, but alike.

How long had it been, since he'd found someone like himself? There'd been the suggestion of offers in plenty of eyes over the years, the lingering touch of someone silently telling him that he could take what he wanted. None of them had been from anyone that he knew well enough to really trust with that kind of knowledge about him, though. It had been five long years from the last time he'd felt hands on his body. Five years between kisses and passion was much too long. He groaned softly in need as he thought of everything that he and Tony could do together that had absolutely nothing to do with chess.

Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was after three, time for Ducky to be out of school and on his way to the base. He grabbed his cane and stood, figuring to meet the kid at the gate, but his phone rang first. Picking it up, he answered, "Gibson."

"Captain, we need your presence in Command."

"On my way," Jethro replied.

It looked like Tony and Ducky were on their own.

*  *  *  *

Carrying Ducky on his shoulders, Tony pointed out the various non-classified areas of the base on his way to the tarmac. There were plenty of smiles sent their way, lots from women who wouldn't otherwise have anything to do with him, thanks to his reputation. Tony couldn't help but grin as he thought, Too bad I didn't think of something like this before I got interested in Jethro.

They reached his plane in no time and he spent the next half hour bending over the cockpit from the outside so Ducky could sit in the pilot's seat. He put the helmet on the kid, pointed out all the different controls, showed him how to hold the joystick, and most of the basics of flying. The kid picked everything up the first time and his questions tended to land on the technical side, surprising Tony every time. When there wasn't anything left, he helped Ducky down and went in search of Donovan, since it was obvious that something had come up and Jethro couldn't join them.

Finding Tim in the mess, he introduced the two and went to grab food for Ducky and himself. When he got back, the two were immersed in a discussion of code-work and Tony groaned. Plunking his cap on Ducky's head and pulling it down to cover the kid's face, he demanded, "Don't tell me you actually understand what Donovan's saying?"

Ducky pushed the hat up and answered, "It's easy if you've got the point of reference, Tony! See..."

Tony tugged the hat back down, holding onto it to give the kid something to struggle against, and shook his head at Donovan. "Giving sensitive information to a minor. What will Gibson say?"

Donovan's eyes went wide, much as Ducky's had a tendency to do, and he exclaimed, "C'mon, Tony, you're not going to tell him, are you? There wasn't anything sensitive, I swear!"

Ducky finally succeeded in pulling free of the hat, so Tony snagged the kid in a casual neck hold and answered, "Oh sure, you say that now. But what if this poor kid needs to be brainwashed or something? You never can tell what spies are going to do, isn't that right Kate?"

Caitlin took the seat beside Donovan and smiled sweetly. "I wouldn't know, Tony, I'm just a secretary. Are you going to let the boy breathe some time today?"

Tony looked down at Ducky's now upside down face and grinned at how red it was. Ducky was laughing as he futilely tried to get free. Looking back at Caitlin, Tony shrugged and said, "He hasn't given me the magic word yet."

"Please?" Ducky guessed.

"Nope."

"Thank you?"

"Nope."

"You're welcome?"

"Nope."

Ducky frowned, his ten-year-old mind trying to come up with the right word. Seeing the kid was completely occupied, Tony returned his attention to Caitlin and said, "Donovan here was giving the kid secret information. Think I should tell Gibson?"

Flushed almost as red as Ducky, Tim exclaimed, "I didn't! Honest, Caitlin, I didn't. Tony's just being a pain in the...a pain!"

Caitlin barely winked at Tony before turning a sober face to Donovan and said, "I don't know, Tim. Any military information given to people who aren't US Citizens could be considered an act of treason. Telling Gibson is the least of it, I would think."

Tony had all he could do to not to burst out laughing when Donovan paled, and thought, Looks like that barrel of Guinness really did the trick.

"Oh my God. Oh my God. I'm dead. They're going to draw and quarter me. That's what they do to traitors, isn't it? Oh my God," Tim mumbled, swaying.

Caitlin slapped him on the back and started laughing as she exclaimed, "Relax, Donovan, I was kidding!"

Even joining in the laughter, Tony couldn't miss it when Ducky shouted, "Coffee!"

Startled, he looked down and asked, "What?"

"Coffee! That's the magic word!" Ducky pronounced, triumphant.

A little spooked, since that was indeed the magic word he'd been thinking of, Tony let the kid go and demanded, "How'd you figure it out?"

Ducky just smiled smugly at him and took a seat beside Caitlin as he said, "You're very pretty, Miss. D'ye mind if I sit with you?"

Caitlin continued to laugh and put her arm around the boy's shoulder. "You can indeed, little man."

Shaking his head, Tony wagged a finger at Ducky and warned, "If you're not careful, you're going to wind up a spy one day."

Ducky's grin just got bigger.

*  *  *  *

"I'm telling you, the kid is freakishly smart," Tony insisted with a grin. "He and Donovan were holding an actual conversation, one that I could barely follow."

"That's not hard," Caitlin drawled lazily.

Jethro managed to snort, instead of laugh, and took a sip of tea, leaning briefly against Tony as he said, "Ducky's a good kid."

Shaking his head and lightly squeezing Jethro's leg, just above the knee, Tony replied, "That's not in question. I just have the feeling that he should be doing something other than avoiding the bullies at school. Don't they have some kind of program around here that smart kids can join?"

"Last call," Abby announced, to the disgruntled rumblings of the patrons. "Oh knock it off, will ya? It's last call this time of night, every single night."

Jethro did laugh at that and asked, "Where'd you say this girl is from?"

"Brooklyn," Tony answered. "Rumor has it that she won this place in a card game. Though how she managed to get here in the first place, is a mystery I have as yet to plumb."

Caitlin gave him a wink and informed him, "Better to leave the plumbing to the experts."

Tony smirked at her, replying, "I don't think she's looking for a woman to do that kind of...excavation."

Wondering exactly how they'd gone from talking about Ducky, to Abby's potential for responding to Caitlin, Jethro shook his head and said sternly, "This isn't the place for that kind of talk."

Caitlin just shrugged carelessly, as she always did whenever he scolded her about things of that nature, but Tony moved his hand a little higher up on Jethro's thigh, sending a shiver through Jethro.

"You folks should stick around for a while. I've got a feeling that things are going to get interesting once the doors close tonight," Abby told them quietly, leaning on the table.

Jethro caught Tony's gaze, but the other officer shrugged, apparently not having any idea what was going to happen. Making a decision, Jethro answered, "Sure. We'll stick around for a while."

Abby moved away without further explanation and started shooing out the other customers, except for a seeming select few. When the door was locked behind the last of the regulars, Jethro watched as Abby went to all the windows and pulled down the blackout drapes. Once that was done, she sauntered back behind the bar and simply pulled out a newspaper and started to read. Frowning curiously, Jethro turned back to the quiet conversation Tony and Caitlin were having about the engine speed of cars, of all things.

Jethro leaned back in the comfortable, high-backed booth and closed his eyes, letting the conversation swim over him, just enjoying the company and relaxed atmosphere. It had been a long time since he hadn't felt the need to be in control. Most of that, he knew, had to do with Tony and Caitlin. They were both extremely capable and, by all rights, better equipped to handle anything that might come at them than he was, physically at least. He didn't have to worry about being in charge with them around.

His eyes reopened when he started hearing conversations grow around them, and more feet moving around than there should be. To his surprise, Jethro found several more patrons there than when Abby had closed up shop. Not that it was his business what hours she kept, so he just ignored them and shifted slightly closer to Tony, enjoying the warmth the other man gave off. The engine speed of the new model 1945 Ferrari had given way to sports talk when someone turned on a radio. Big band melodies filled the pub and Jethro sighed deeply, enjoying the familiar strains.

"Excuse me, ma'am, would you like to dance?"

Not an unusual phrase, really, but the fact that it was Abby doing the asking prompted Jethro to crack an eyelid. There wasn't really anything untoward about two women dancing together, but Jethro's eyebrows climbed upon finding a three sets of men slow dancing together in the middle of the room.

Caitlin stood and took Abby's hand, walking away with a murmured, "I'll lead."

Straightening in the booth, Jethro frowned and took a good look around. There were about twenty other patrons now, most of them in uniform, just chatting quietly around the room. The lights were dimmed to flickering candlelight and the fireplace. The difference between now and the regular crowd, however, was the segregation of men and women. Hands were being held on the tables. Heads were together holding ever-softer conversations. And then there were the dancers, who were very obviously in love, or about to be from the way they were holding one another.

"Shocked?"

Tony's quiet question brought his attention back to the man beside him and Jethro shook his head. "Surprised, is all. I mean, there's always whispers of places like this, but I never thought I'd be in one."

"It's nice, isn't it? Not having to hide," Tony commented, putting his hand on Jethro's. "Knowing that someone knows who you are and...cares for you in the same way."

"Do you?" Jethro challenged.

Tony smiled and answered, "I am falling so far down over you, I don't think I'll ever see my way out again, Captain."

Emboldened by the words, Jethro brushed his knuckles over Tony's cheek and said, "Likewise, Lieutenant."

"C'mon. Let's dance."

But Jethro hesitated. His body was still mostly pain free, but dancing wasn't something he was really ready to try. It would be too awkward and humiliating with the cane in the way and besides, who would lead?

As if sensing his strong doubts, Tony suggested, "How about you lead and I'll support you if you need it? Just one dance, Jethro, please?"

Like I can say no to those eyes? Jethro thought with an inward sigh of what he was sure would be a disaster. He nodded and got out of the booth, leaving his cane there to walk hand in hand with Tony onto the impromptu dance floor. Strong arms surrounded his waist, holding steady, and Jethro tentatively put his own around Tony's shoulder, twining their hands together. There was a long moment where neither man moved, then Jethro took a breath and began swaying to the music Bing Crosby's version of 'I'll Be Seeing You.' There were some painful twinges in his leg and sciatica, but his body didn't protest too violently, so Jethro let out a slow sigh of relief.

They drifted slowly together and, despite himself, Jethro found that leaning on Tony felt right, as well as good, and eventually wound up dancing with his head on the slightly taller man's shoulder. Tony's cheek rested against his temple and his arms both surrounded Jethro's waist.

They danced for a lot longer than just the one song.

*  *  *  *

Too many songs later to count, Jethro hobbled into the bathroom at the end of the short hall in the back. He couldn't help the smile as he limped, despite the increasing pain through his lower back and sciatica. Even if he could barely move the next day, he'd still be smiling. The door opened when he was washing his hands and Tony entered the small room, shutting the door behind him.

Jethro met his gaze in the mirror.

The lock snicked shut with an absurdly loud click.

And then Tony was right there behind him, arms wrapping around Jethro and pulling him back as he nuzzled at Jethro's ear. "God, I want you."

Jethro shuddered as his ear was sucked lightly and then bit, his head rolling back to rest on Tony's shoulder as he gasped, "Same here."

Turning in Tony's arms, Jethro grabbed the other man's shirt and pulled him in for a hard, desperate kiss. Opening to him immediately, Tony kissed back just as strong, tongue thrusting into Jethro's mouth to slide along his palate and map out the rest. Jethro moaned, hands rubbing over the firm chest, fingers digging into the muscles until they found hard nipples and stayed there, moving back and forth over the small points, twisting them under the fabric.

Panting into his mouth, Tony pushed a leg between Jethro's, against his hard cock, and Jethro jerked in response. Without a single thought except to find release for both of them, despite the location, maybe because of it, he pushed his good leg between Tony's and they started a mostly-coordinated humping motion. It wasn't going to take much, he knew. It had been too long since someone else had touched him, let alone with such desire.

Tony's hands gripped his ass, pulling him up and awkwardly setting him on the counter.

Dazed, Jethro pulled back enough to hoarsely demand, "What about you?"

"This'll do me, don't you worry about it," Tony promised, eyes dark and heated as he swiftly unzipped Jethro's pants. "I wanna suck you down, Jethro."

Jethro's eyes rolled back when the wet heat of Tony's mouth surrounded his cock. His fingers held tight to the counter, the edge digging into them as he was swallowed down fast and deep. Biting his lip to keep the sounds quiet, Jethro hunched up into the welcoming throat, aching to come. Tony's fingers lightly pushed against his balls, sliding under the fabric to fondle him in his most sensitive spot, behind the sacs. Jethro saw stars, a shout escaping as he spilled hard down Tony's throat, despite the control he tried to keep.

He could hear Tony's hand moving on his own cock and wanted to protest, wanted to do it for his new lover, but hadn't the strength. Tony was still alternately sucking on Jethro's cock and panting when he came, moaning around Jethro's shaft when he did. The sensations overloaded him temporarily and Jethro shuddered violently in pleasure once more.

When Tony finally stood straight again, it was with a satisfied, 'cat ate the cream' expression on his face where Jethro was sure his was completely dumb. His new lover leaned in and took his mouth in a slow, deep kiss and he couldn't even find the energy to protest the taste of his own seed, something he'd never done before with other lovers. Resting his forehead on Jethro's, Tony sighed deeply and murmured, "Damn."

For some reason, that struck Jethro as truly funny and he started laughing. A deep, belly laugh like he hadn't had in over a year. Then, just as suddenly, excruciating pain sliced through him and he seized up, his mouth open in a silent scream, eyes clenched shut.

"Jethro! Jethro? What's wrong?" Tony demanded, voice frantic.

But it was all Jethro could do not to pass out. He couldn't explain about the agony radiating from just the left side of his spine. Couldn't say that they'd probably just knocked some piece of shrapnel out of place. Couldn't do anything except half-sob in pain and do his best not to move.

"Abby!" Tony shouted. "Abby! I need a doctor in here! Abby!"

There was a loud crash, as if someone had broken through the door and, in the ensuing chaos of voices and questions, Jethro blessedly passed out.

 

PART THREE

 

One second Jethro was looking at him with vibrant, sparkling blue eyes and the next, they were clenched shut in pain, mouth a silent 'O' of pain. Tony shouted, "Abby! Abby! I need a doctor in here! Abby!" and continued to hold Jethro in place, positive that moving him would be a very bad idea.

The door crashed open and he was suddenly surrounded by concerned people. A few seconds later, he exclaimed, "Unless your name is Abby or Caitlin, or you're a doctor, get the hell out!"

Only seconds later, they had moved back to the doorway, if not left altogether, and Tony held the now-unconscious Jethro in place, still, and demanding, "A doctor, Abs, we need a doctor! I think one of his shrapnel pieces moved out of place. He's got them all over."

"Already called an ambulance," Abby told him. "Let's get him set to rights and then we can move him."

Shaking his head, Tony said, "We shouldn't move him."

"How about zipping his fly?" Caitlin suggested dryly, though tension underlined her voice.

Right.

"Abby, hold him up while I get that."

Caitlin moved closer to help with that and took one side while Abby did the other. That actually allowed Tony to tuck Jethro in and zip him up, as well as put his own pants in order. With a dark sense of humor, he thought, Good thing I cleaned him off already with my tongue or there would definitely be the wrong kind of questions.

Only a few minutes later, two ambulance orderlies came in and one of them asked, "What happened?"

"I don't know. One minute I was taking a leak and the next the Captain was in enough pain to knock him out. He's got shrapnel injuries in his back," Tony told them.

They carefully shuffled Jethro from the sink counter onto a stretcher and the first said, "We'll take him to the base hospital."

Tony, Abby, and Caitlin scrambled after the ambulance orderlies, Tony barely noticing when Abby tossed her keys at someone to close up. They hopped in her ancient Edson and Tony held on for dear life as she hurtled down the narrow streets after the ambulance. They were stopped at the gate, of course, but Tony leaned across Abby and held out his credentials to the guards and exclaimed, "We're with Captain Gibson who was just brought in."

The guard nodded and waved them through, and Abby hit the gas again, sending Tony falling back in the seat. She came to a screeching halt in a parking spot not far from the door and Tony stumbled out of the car, glad that Abby couldn't get anywhere near a plane. Though really, he wasn't all that sure that they hadn't left the ground a few times.

They were stopped by a severe looking nurse who demanded, "And just where do you think you're going?"

"Captain Gibson," Tony replied. "He was just brought in. We're with him."

"Name?"

"Lt. Com. DiMarco."

She gave them a disdainful look then pointed to the waiting area and ordered, "Sit."

Tony had as yet to disobey a direct order in that tone, and so headed over to the small collection of chairs to pace. Abby and Caitlin took seats beside each other and Tony snarled silently on seeing them holding hands. No one would think twice about two women doing that, but he and Jethro couldn't even touch without being suspect.

"Lt. Com. DiMarco?"

Tony jerked around at the call of his name and found a young woman with thick, dark hair looking at him. He hurried across the room and confirmed, "That's me. Is Captain Gibson okay, ma'am?"

"Not very, no," she replied. "It seems that the two inch shrapnel closest to his spine has shifted. I need some more details of what he was doing just before he passed out. The orderlies said that he was on a counter?"

Abby and Caitlin had joined them by then and Abby demanded, "Where's the doctor? Shouldn't he be the one asking these questions?"

Stiffly, the woman replied, "I am Dr. Ziva Yadin and the attending doctor on staff for the night shift. I believe that Captain Gibson needs immediate surgery, but it's possible that temporary immobilization could work as well. I need to know what he was doing before the incident. If he was simply standing there washing his hands, then in all likelihood, the shrapnel is on the move and we need to take the risk of surgery. If, however, he was doing something more active and accidentally moved it himself, then it's possible that keeping him still and allowing it time to return to where it was, will do the trick. So I repeat the question. What was Captain Gibson doing at the time of the incident?"

"Me," Abby blurted out.

Dr. Yadin arched an eyebrow at her. "I beg your pardon?"

Flushing a bit, Abby said, "Um, he and I were...being active...when it happened."

"I see," Dr. Yadin replied, disapproval apparent. "And what precisely were you doing? What...position...was he in?"

Abby's gaze flickered over to Tony and he sucked his cheeks in as a hint. Clearing her throat, Abby continued, "Well, ah, he was, you know, on the counter and it was...you know...my mouth and his...peter."

To the doctor's credit, the disapproval didn't get any worse. She simply repeated, "I see. So he was very...active...then."

"Ah, yes?" Abby answered, glancing at Tony.

Tony offered the doctor as disarming a smile as he could when her dark gaze shifted from Abby to him. "Hi there."

"Were you present?" Dr. Yadin questioned.

Shaking his head, Tony answered firmly, "Nope."

"Then why does she keep looking at you?"

Observant, Tony thought, even as he shrugged. "Abby tends to get...focused...during things like that."

"And you would know," Dr. Yadin said dryly.

Tony shrugged again and said, "Not at the same time as Captain Gibson, no, but she and I dated a few times when I was first stationed here."

Dr. Yadin huffed in what could have been amusement or annoyance as her attention refocused on Abby. "Captain Gibson is not a young man like the Lieutenant here, and on top of that has specific injuries that should not be aggravated in such a fashion. In the future, should you and he decide to be...active...again, I strongly recommend that he be flat on his back and stationary. I'm sure an inventive woman such as yourself and figure out the rest."

Abby flushed, but only murmured, "Yes, ma'am."

"Is he going to be all right?" Tony asked, hating the way Abby had to take the lecture in his place. "Are you going to recommend surgery?"

Dr. Yadin shook her head. "For now, I'll have him immobilized and watched closely. You may see him tomorrow during regular visiting hours. Good night everyone."

Tony watched her leave and wished desperately that he could claim a right to be at Jethro's side. To at least see for himself that the other man was all right. It wasn't possible, though, so he just sighed and turned morosely towards the door.

Abby slung an arm around his waist and said, "Don't worry, Tony, he'll be all right. He's a tough old bird."

Caitlin surprised him by putting an arm around him from the other side as they left the hospital, and agreeing, "She's right. The Cap'll be just fine, you'll see. He's too ornery to let this keep him down for long. Matter of fact, I sure as hell wouldn't want to be the staff around here when he thinks he's fit enough to leave and they won't let him."

At that, Tony had to smile, imagining the scene. He was sure that Jethro would be a holy terror and was rather looking forward to him putting that doctor in her place.

*  *  *  *

Ziva hadn't been raised around doctors and politicians not to be able to read body language, or know when people were lying to her. She was sure that the activity told to her was true, but the people involved, were not. As distasteful as it was, the Captain and Lieutenant were the most likely participants in the mouth vs. peter story. While not as parochial as most of her colleagues, Ziva did not believe that homosexuality was a psychiatric disorder, she still found the thought of two men together quite repugnant.

Studying the unconscious man before her, Ziva found the hard lines of his face intriguing. She knew there was nothing deficient about this man's character, no matter what his...proclivities. From his scars alone, Ziva knew him to be brave and self-sacrificing. She could tell from the pattern on his back that he'd jumped on someone else to protect them from the explosive device, whatever it had been. It certainly hadn't been a land-mine, as she knew most people would assume. Add to that the commendations in his file and that he was moving with any degree of mobility at all and the sum of this man's character was something to be envied. He was not to be disparaged because his body betrayed him in its aberrant desire for another man.

Testing the bonds that held him down, Ziva nodded in satisfaction and left as silently as she'd come. Stopping at the nurses' station, she ordered, "Have someone sitting in the Captain's room at all times. I have no doubt that he will react badly to waking up and being unable to move. I don't want him struggling against the restraints and doing himself more damage."

The nurse nodded and Ziva continued on her rounds.

*  *  *  *

The first thing that Jethro noticed was the decided lack of pain and the bad taste in the back of his mouth. He'd been hospitalized enough to know that he was being given drugs and grimaced. He hated anesthesia and morphine was a real bitch to wean off. His vision was blurry and he blinked rapidly to clear his eyes, but without success. Jethro tried to lift his hand to find a call button, only to discover that he couldn't. Panic hit a split second after the thought that he was paralyzed, that the shrapnel by his spine had cut it in half or at least dug into it.

"Easy, Captain, you're okay," a soft voice soothed. "You're not paralyzed, you're simply being restrained. Close your eyes and I'll clear them off for you."

Jethro did as he was told, his heart beat slowing down from its panicked speed. "Why am I restrained?"

"Because I don't want you to move around and hurt yourself further," the woman continued, a dry cloth now wiping over his eyes.

Opening them, Jethro found a woman in her mid-thirties standing over him. Long dark hair was pulled up in a gentle chignon, accentuating her dusky, exotic features and dark eyes. She didn't look like any nurse he'd seen before and he demanded, "Who are you?"

"Dr. Ziva Yadin, your physician for this particular hospitalization," she explained. "I'm going to undo the restraints, but you have to promise me that you won't move."

"I won't."

"All right then."

It was a few minutes later before the restraints were gone and he sighed in relief. "Thank you."

She smiled. "My pleasure. Now then, let's get the unpleasantries out of the way, shall we?"

"Don't you mean pleasantries?" Jethro suggested.

"Not unless you enjoy being poked and prodded."

"Not really."

"Didn't think so."

Jethro suffered through a very thorough exam with as much patience as he could. It was a good half hour before she pronounced it over and he breathed a sigh of relief. "So? What's the verdict?"

"I'm going to have you sent down for more x-rays, but from touch alone, I'd say you were out of the woods for now," Dr. Yadin informed him. Raising a cautioning finger, she continued, "But! From now on, any...physical activities...in which you might engage are to take place with you flat on your back. Your girlfriend will have to be the one to do all the work."

Jethro's face heated at the blunt appraisal from such a pretty woman. It was one thing for him and Caitlin to talk about sex, they'd known each other for years and she was as manly as he was, despite her packaging. It was like talking to one of the guys. But for this pretty young doctor to do the same just didn't seem right.

"And on that embarrassing note, I will leave you to get some rest," Dr. Yadin said, apparently taking pity on him.

Jethro gave her a grateful smile before she left, then settled in to wait for visiting hours.

*  *  *  *

The problem with being in the military was that Tony's schedule wasn't his own. He couldn't just go see Jethro when visiting hours came up, he was in the middle of fixing an engine with one of the new replacements who'd been bussed over during the night. And then after that was a briefing and after that, more repairs. Finally, around 1600, he was cleared from duty and able to run over to the hospital for the last hour of visiting hours.

When he got there, Jethro was sleeping and he sighed in disappointment, but silently picked up a chair to move over by the bed. While his back was turned, Jethro announced, "I'm not sleeping," and he jumped in surprise, dropping the chair on his foot. Hissing in pain, he shoved the chair off and turned with a minor glare. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

Jethro grinned at him and replied, "Just admiring the view, DiMarco."

Tony snorted, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He looked around quickly, then brushed fingers through the short, silvery hair and asked, "How're you feeling?"

"Like hell, but I'll live," Jethro answered, leaning into the caress, however briefly. "How's your foot?"

"It's fine," Tony assured him, noting the pain lines around his lover's eyes. "Aren't they giving you anything?"

Shaking his head, Jethro said, "I asked them not to. I don't like not being in control like that."

"There's a surprise," Tony observed dryly.

Jethro lightly smacked his thigh and said, "Don't get smart with me. I can still put you on KP duty."

Tony smiled, countering, "Ah, but then you'd be stuck here all alone, without anyone to relieve the boredom."

"No, he wouldn't," Dr. Yadin said from behind.

Immediately standing from the bed, Tony stepped back to face the doctor and managed a smile as he replied, "Well that's good, then."

"I'm surprised to see you here, Lieutenant," she continued. "Don't you have duties?"

Tony's smile thinned a bit. "Done for the day, ma'am. You're here early for the night shift."

She shrugged and explained, "I practically live here. Most of the doctors do. Never know when there'll be an emergency, so we like to stay close to where we're needed."

The veiled insult was easy enough to detect and Tony stiffened.

Jethro jumped into the conversation with, "So when are you going to let me out, Doc?"

"Not for another couple of days," Dr. Yadin stated firmly.

Sighing, Jethro said, "I'm fine, you know. I'm right back to where I was before everything happened."

With a smile, she replied, "Humor me. My parents paid a lot of money for my education and occasionally, I like to think I know what I'm doing."

Jethro echoed the smile and suddenly, Tony felt completely superfluous. They'd obviously developed some kind of rapport or friendship in the wee hours and since, and it sent a flutter of nerves through him. Clearing his throat, Tony said, "I'm just gonna get going. I'll see you later, Captain. Doctor."

He hurried out of the room before Jethro could do more than look at him in surprise, but Dr. Yadin followed him out and called, "Lieutenant, if you have a moment?"

Gritting his teeth, Tony stopped in place then turned around. "Sure. What can I do you for, Doctor?"

"In private, if you don't mind?"

Tony made an 'after you' gesture, and she walked to an empty hospital room down the hall. Closing the door, Tony waited.

She eyed him for a long moment, then stated, "I know that you and Captain Gibson are having an affair."

Keeping his face neutral, Tony replied, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't even try to dissemble with me, Lieutenant, I can spot a lie at twenty paces," Dr. Yadin informed him. "Body language never lies. I'm not here to expose you, I'm here to ask that you leave Captain Gibson alone."

"Even supposing that I know what you're talking about, why would I?" Tony countered.

Dropping her own mask for the first time, Dr. Yadin replied, "Because he's a good man, Lieutenant. He's only got one tour left, this one, and he shouldn't have to risk being compromised for any reason, let alone that one. As I understand it, his ex-fiance is arriving in a couple of hours. I'm asking you to let nature take its course and give him peace for his remaining days."

Alarmed, Tony exclaimed, "You said he was all right!"

She held up a hand and said, "He is, for now. That could change at any time, however. Honestly, I'm surprised he's made it as long as he has without anything worse than last night happening. It's a testimony to his strength of will and character. Let him finish this last assignment with honor, Lieutenant. Leave him be."

Tony couldn't think of anything to say to that, and so said nothing at all. He simply left, thoughts in a whirl, and stomach tight with a sense of failure.

*  *  *  *

Tony walked morosely towards the mess, not even noticing Caitlin as she came up behind him. That was unusual enough to warrant a frown, even if he hadn't been screaming 'The world's going to end,' with his body language. Tapping him on the opposite shoulder caused the officer to actually turn the wrong way, before he twisted back towards Caitlin. Arching an eyebrow when he did nothing more than sigh in irritation, she asked, "Something wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Tony answered shortly, stepping into line for supper.

Which was definitely not Tony, so Caitlin followed him even though she wasn't planning to eat. "Come on, Tony, you know you want to tell me, whatever it is."

"I really don't."

"Sure you do. I'm a great listener."

"No you're not."

"Now that hurts."

Tony snorted as he walked to a table and sat down.

Caitlin noticed that it was away from anyone else in the half-filled mess, and figured that he really did want to talk. It was just going to take some prying on her part.

"When was Gibson engaged?"

Then again, perhaps it wouldn't.

Mentally changing gears, Caitlin answered, "About six years ago. Her name's Jennifer Garrison and she was an intelligence officer."

"Like you?" Tony questioned.

Caitlin laughed, then shook her head. "No, not like me. Jen was too...proper...to get into the kinds of situations that I get into all the time. She's a Senator's aide now, I believe."

"How serious were they?"

Hesitating only briefly, Caitlin told him, "You have to understand that Jethro's done the right thing his entire life, Tony. He enlisted directly after school, rose through the ranks by the sweat of his brow, and never left a man behind. When Jen entered his life, Gibson was having a rough time of it and I think he didn't want to be alone, more than he felt anything real for her."

"He wouldn't have proposed if he didn't feel anything for her," Tony pointed out, somewhat bitter.

Caitlin sighed. "I didn't say that he felt nothing. It's just that...they were together for almost a year and he was shipping out on some secret mission and leaving her to the wilds of London for the first time. She wasn't nearly as polished as she is now, believe me, but the woman sure as hell knew how to entangle a man who has more honor than sense. She finagled an engagement ring out of him before he shipped out. If the explosion hadn't happened, he probably would have married her."

Tony gave her a sharp look and demanded, "What explosion? The one where he got injured?"

"Yeah," she confirmed. "It was a plant, though there aren't any details. All I really know is that there were ten of them in the room and four that made it out. He covered Jen with his own body to save her and by all rights, shouldn't have survived at all, let alone done this well."

Looking as though he'd tasted something unpleasant, Tony said, "And she left him."

"Or he drove her away," Caitlin replied with a shrug. "You never can tell, with the Captain."

Tony poked savagely at his mashed potatoes, then informed her, "She's here, or will be shortly."

Astonished, Caitlin exclaimed, "Jen's here? What on earth for?"

"Apparently to give Jethro the normal, healthy life that he deserves," Tony muttered, sliding into depressed again.

"Well shite! The doctor knows?" Caitlin demanded.

Tony nodded and continued to move his vegetables around on the tray.

"Is she going to make trouble?"

"I don't think so. Especially not if I leave Jethro alone."

Caitlin kicked him under the table and met his glare with one of her own. "You're the only reason that I've seen the Captain so bucked-up in a long time, DiMarco! You let that go without a fight and I will personally kick your ass from here to Berlin and then leave it there with a great big sign that says, 'Allied Fighter Pilot' on it. You got me?"

Tony hissed, "What can I do? Tell me what the hell I can do with someone who's in a position to destroy his life, okay, Kate? Nothing. That's what."

Feeling oddly protective of the man before her, Caitlin smiled thinly and promised, "You leave the good doctor to me. In the meantime, get your ass back there and apologize to the Captain before he thinks you've gone and left for good."

He stared at her for a long moment, then whispered, "Thanks," and left the mess at a jog.

So. What to do about the doctor? Caitlin mused thoughtfully, tugging Tony's tray forward to munch on the cookies he'd left behind.

*  *  *  *

Tony slowed to a fast walk when he reached the hospital, not wanting to draw undue attention to himself. It was only a few minutes before he reached Jethro's hospital room, feeling a bit like an idiot for having left like he did in the first place. Thank God Caitlin had been around to talk sense into him. Although what she might have planned for Dr. Yadin, Tony was pretty sure he didn't want to know.

Just about to enter the room, Tony stopped short on seeing a woman sitting on the edge of Jethro's bed. She leaned forward, brushing her lips over the captain's forehead, and took his hand. Jethro smiled at her and brought the delicate hand up to his lips. Tony moved to the side of the door and listened shamelessly to the soft conversation.

"You haven't changed a bit, Jen," Jethro observed. "Still as beautiful as ever."

She laughed, soft and warm. "That's kind of you to say, Jethro, but I see the wrinkles, same as you do."

Tony grimaced at the flirting.

"So what brings you by?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"What, this? C'mon, Jen, I've been worse than this and it never got your attention before," Jethro countered.

Jen sighed and said, "Jethro, I want you to stop playing hero and do what you should have done two years ago."

"What's that?"

"Marry me."

"Jen..."

"No, I mean it. We're good together and you know it," Jen interrupted. "I know that you don't have the same needs as most men, and that's fine with me. All I want is one child, and then we can just share a bed for the rest of our lives. I know how much you want children."

Jethro sighed and sounded wistful as he answered, "It would be nice, yeah."

"So say yes. We can be happy, Jethro, I know we can," Jen insisted, kissing his hand again.

That he didn't turn her down right away sent a jolt of pain through Tony's heart. Whether he made a noise or Jethro just sensed his presence, Tony wasn't sure, but pale blue eyes flickered to his and an alarmed expression crossed the other man's face. Shaking his head, Tony turned and ran back towards the elevators, not wanting to hear lies and meaningless apologies.

On the run back to his quarters, the air raid alarm pierced the air. Tony spun in the direction of the airfield and increased his speed. The promise of flight and the adrenaline of battle was an oblivion that he needed more than ever.

*  *  *  *

Caitlin had never shirked from doing what needed to be done before, but her feet dragged as she walked to Gibson's hospital room to deliver the bad news. She was still in shock herself, which was probably for the best, and had no idea how she would tell her best friend that his lover was dead.

Not dead! she told herself fiercely. Missing! He's alive and trying to find a way back here!

Despite the fierce internal battle on that debate, Caitlin knew that Jethro would assume Tony was dead. If only they hadn't fought that day, because she also knew that Jethro would blame himself for Tony not being at his best, for being distracted and getting shot down.

It turned out that she didn't have to say anything. As soon as Gibson took one look at her face, his jaw tightened and he gritted out, "When?"

"About two hours ago. Morrow called me to give you the news about fifteen minutes ago," she replied softly.

Jethro's eyes closed, and the pain etched into his face had nothing to do with his injuries.

"He could be alive, Captain," Caitlin said. "We don't have confirmation one way or the other. He was separated from the group, went after one of the enemy on his own, and flew off radar. When the squadron had time to go after him, there was just no sign of him one way or another."

"Leave me be, Katie, just...leave me be."

Aching at the pain that remained visible on his face, a sure sign of just how deep it went, Caitlin sighed and left the hospital room, closing the door behind her.

 

PART FOUR

 

"Tell me something, Doctor. Is there enough love in the world that you have to do your level best to destroy it when it's true?"

Ziva jumped a mile in fright at the question, the voice hard and almost right at her ear. Turning quickly, she found the woman who'd accompanied Captain Gibson on the night of his admission, the one who hadn't claimed to sleep with him, standing right behind her. Glaring at her, Ziva retorted, "That isn't true love, it's aberrant behavior."

"Were they hurting you?" the woman hissed.

A hand snapped out to encircle her throat, shoving her against the storage room wall with force. Stunned a bit, Ziva struggled against the hold, but couldn't get free, the woman was just too strong. "What do you want?"

Leaning forward, Caitlin hissed, "I want you to feel the pain that Captain Gibson is feeling right now. One day, maybe in this life, maybe the next one, I want you to know what it's like to feel like you've caused the death of someone you love."

The woman released her with a sneer of contempt and then just left her there, shaking. Ziva sighed, running a weak hand through her hair as she shivered with the feeling that maybe she'd just been cursed.

It took a while for her to reassure herself that curses didn't exist.

*  *  *  *

Every part of his body hurt. Every single muscle and bone and fingernail and hair ached. His left shoulder in particular throbbed with a fire that knew no equal and Tony moaned as he struggled to open his eyes. There was a real fire burning around him, one that had nothing to do with his body being twisted in a very wrong direction. He could hear the hiss and feel the wind fan the blaze hotter and closer, and knew that he didn't have a lot of time left before the plane exploded and took him with it for real.

It didn't make sense that he was even still alive, but Tony wasn't one to miss an opportunity that included remaining that way. So he forced his eyes to open and then his body into sitting up, clinging to consciousness by digging the fingernails of his functioning hand into his palm. His location explained the fact that he was still alive; he was on the top of a pile of sod that was almost soaked into muddiness. It explained the slow burn of the fuel and the cushioning of his plane and, subsequently, his body. The plane was on its side, mostly in one piece, and Tony had been flung from the cockpit into another pile of sod about ten feet away.

The fire ate angrily at the wet grass, sizzling and hissing a protest at the dampness that hindered it. If the engine hadn't been cracked open, letting out fuel, Tony was pretty sure that nothing would be burning at all. As it was, he could see how close the flames were getting to both the guns and the engine and staggered onto his knees and relatively good arm to crawl away. He'd managed to get another ten feet or so away when the plane exploded for good and the blast knocked him face first into the ground.

Tony lost his tenuous hold on consciousness and plummeted down into the dark.

*  *  *  *

The world felt very gray to Jethro as he stared at the window through which he caught sight of part of the command building. It wasn't the London weather, for once, but his own emotions that made it so. Ever since Caitlin had told him that Tony's plane had gone down, his insides had ached with a pain he hadn't felt since the death of his twin sister. It was different, of course, but the intensity was almost the same. That same difficulty in breathing, and the hotness of his eyes because he refused to let the tears fall, among other symptoms.

It had been three days since the news and Jethro had sure as hell not had any trouble in not moving. He'd been so good, they were letting him go as soon as the paperwork was ready. Caitlin and Jen were both coming to spring him, which would've made for interesting fireworks had he been the least bit interested in watching them oh-so-politely insult each other.

"Hey, Captain," Caitlin greeted, suddenly beside his bed.

Startled, Jethro looked over at her and sighed, shaking his head. "Must be losing my touch."

"You are not," she replied firmly. "You're just not paying attention is all. You ready blow this popsicle stand?"

Jethro nodded. "I guess."

Sitting up with only a minor pinch in his back, Jethro accepted the clothes she gave him and carefully got off the bed to walk to the bathroom. Jen arrived while he was in there, he heard the two women talking and grimaced. Slowly putting on his shirt, Jethro stared at himself in the mirror for longer than necessary, wondering when he'd gotten old, then turned from his reflection with a sigh. He couldn't hide out in the bathroom forever, as much as he wanted to.

Jen smiled on seeing him and said cheerfully, "There you are! I was starting to wonder if you'd fallen in."

"Almost," he replied, managing a faint smile for her. "Let's get out of here."

The door opened to admit Dr. Yadin, who looked stunned as she said, "You'll want to delay your departure, Captain."

He frowned and asked, "Why's that?"

"Lieutenant DiMarco was just brought in," she informed him. "He's banged up with a concussion, and dislocated shoulder, but he's going to be fine."

The world tilted a little at the news and he stumbled into Caitlin, whose arms immediately went around his waist to steady him. Shaking her off, he demanded harshly, "Where is he?"

"I'll bring you to him," she offered.

Jethro was hot on her heels as they walked down the hall, Caitlin and Jen right behind them, and in a few minutes, he was looking down at a sedated Tony. The younger officer's arm was strapped to his chest and he looked bruised to hell and back, but his breathing was steady and his eyes moved rapidly beneath their lids. Keeping himself together by sheer force of will, Jethro sat on the edge of the bed and took Tony's good hand in his, noting the scrapes and cuts.

Cradling it to his chest, Jethro breathed, "Tony."

He didn't even notice when the women left him alone in the room.

*  *  *  *

"I don't see why I can't just leave now," Tony complained, glaring at Dr. Yadin. "It's not like I'm seeing double any more and my shoulder is fine!"

She sniffed disdainfully as she headed for the door and replied, "When you have a medical degree, you can discharge yourself. Until then, you stay put until I say otherwise."

The last week out of action would have been completely hellish if not for Jethro's visits. No one denied the officer access, no matter what time of day it was, and Tony waited anxiously for the hours that his lover spent with him. It wasn't just because of the break in the monotony, but because it was hard to believe that Jethro had picked him over a normal life with his ex-fiancé. He was reassured of the fact every day, though, because Jethro locked the door behind him and they had a number of make-out sessions to reinforce the decision.

On top of that, Jethro was adamant about talking to him, it seemed as often as possible, about what they were going to do after the war. They'd narrowed down places to live to Cape Cod, Massachusetts, and San Francisco, California. Both were, from what Abby had said, more accepting than most places about two men living together. If it weren't for the fact that it would cut off their access to each other, Jethro would have turned in his resignation. There was no way that Tony would be allowed to resign though, not with fighter pilots being in such demand, so that was on hold.

The door opened shortly after the doctor left and Jethro entered the room and grinned at him. "You look like you lost."

"I did," Tony grumbled. "Not damn fair."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jethro observed, "You were in a plane wreck a week ago, give yourself a break, DiMarco."

Tony made a face at him, but leaned into the hand that cupped his face. "So what's on your schedule tonight?"

"We're having Caitlin picked up. Got a message from her via Donovan's new code just yesterday. Turns out she's got some big news for us and we need to get her out ASAP."

Straightening in alarm, Tony demanded, "Who's flying the mission?"

"Not you," Jethro stated firmly. "So plant your ass back down and relax."

Tony glared at him. "I'm fine. There's no reason for me to be stuck here, except Dr. Yadin has a bug up her..."

"I suggest you not finish that sentence," Jethro warned.

Subsiding against the pillows, Tony nonetheless exclaimed, "I'm sick of just sitting here, Jethro! I should be out there, doing something!"

"You will be, soon enough."

Tony frowned at his lover's weary utterance and asked, "What's going on?"

"I need to get back," Jethro evaded. "Stay put until the doc clears you. It won't be long, trust me, Tony."

Catching the other man's arm, Tony demanded softly, "What's going on?"

"A lot, but nothing you can do about it right now, and nothing I can talk about here, so just be patient. I'll see about getting Ziva to release you tomorrow or the next day at the latest," Jethro promised, taking Tony's hand in his.

Frustrated, Tony said, "I need to get back into action."

Jethro tightened his grip on Tony's hand briefly as he nodded, then stood and replied, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Watching the other man leave, Tony punched the mattress, knowing that something was going on but there was no way he'd be able to find out what. He could probably get it out of Donovan, but the younger man hadn't been around in a couple of days. Now that he knew Caitlin was on a mission, that made sense, but he still couldn't help but wish he wasn't stuck in the hospital.

Grumbling, he settled back down against the pillows and listened to the radio as Billie Holiday sang, 'God Bless The Child.' Tony sighed at the sad lyrics and closed his eyes, trying not to feel like the world was spinning out of control and there was nothing he could do about it.

*  *  *  *

Spending the night in Tony's quarters on base was out of the question, but doing the same at his rented room didn't seem all that smart, either. There was no way that Jethro could see not spending Tony's first night together, though, not in uncertain times like these. He'd already thought that he'd lost his lover once and wanted to make up for that, at least a little. Sleeping together, among other things, would reassure him that Tony really was alive and okay in a way nothing else would.

For the time being, he thought darkly, lacing up his boot.

Fighter pilots didn't, as a rule, have a long life expectancy and getting involved with one was sheer idiocy. Despite that, Jethro could no more stop loving Tony than he could betray his country. Grabbing his cane, he walked slowly out of his room only to hear Tony's voice down in the foyer. He stiffened in surprise and was glaring at his lover by the time he reached the first floor. "What are you doing out of the hospital?"

Tony grinned and answered, "Good to see you to, Sir. Ducky and I were just talking about what kind of fun could be had on such a nice day."

Giving him a sour look, Jethro questioned, "And what did you come up with?"

"Well, there's a few movies we could go to," Tony told him. "And apparently there's a great candy store a couple of blocks east of here."

"I see," Jethro replied, trying not to grin at the way Tony practically vibrated with energy. "I don't think you need any sugar."

"Oh, Captain Gibson, there you are," Mrs. Mallard exclaimed, bustling up to them with the coffee pot in hand.

Angling to face her, Jethro smiled. "Morning, Mrs. Mallard, what can I do for you?"

"I'm afraid I have to go out of town unexpectedly tonight. I truly hate to impose on you, but my other gentlemen are off on business or have other plans and won't be home either. Would you possibly be able to keep an eye on Ducky for me over night?"

Jethro met Tony's gaze and found a resigned expression in place, as though he knew Jethro would say yes.

"He's got school, of course," she hurried on. "And he'll be in bed sharply by eight, which will leave most of your day and night free. I honestly wouldn't ask, but..."

"It's okay, Mrs. Mallard, I'll keep an eye on him," Jethro interrupted.

He could practically hear Tony's sigh, even though he knew his lover would never actually make the noise.

Grateful, Mrs. Mallard cuffed Ducky and ordered, "Behave y'sel while I'm gone, or it'll be your hide when I get back. And say thank you to the good Captain."

"Yes, Ma," Ducky agreed obediently. "Thanks, Captain Gibson!"

"Go on with ye," Mrs. Mallard ordered, pushing him towards the door.

Ducky grabbed his bookbag at the door, waved, and then scampered out the door.

Turning to Jethro once more, Mrs. Mallard told him, "There's an excellent romantic comedy playing at the theater down the row called Arsenic and Old Lace," then hurried back to the kitchen.

Tony grinned at him and asked, "So, a romantic comedy?"

Jethro snorted. "The day I willingly see one of those is the day you put me in the ground."

Laughing softly, Tony closed the distance between them and murmured suggestively, "Oh, I don't know. I bet the theater's pretty empty this time of the week, especially since everyone likes war movies these days..."

"Oh," Jethro replied dumbly, heat rushing through him at the look in Tony's eyes. Shaking it off, he finished weakly, "I guess it's okay then."

*  *  *  *

The day went by faster than Jethro could ever have expected. Breakfast was skipped in favor of getting outside and wandering through the city. Tony seemed fully recovered from his near miss the week before, he had to admit with relief. If anything, he had more energy and vigor than Jethro had ever seen, and that was saying something. Coming that close to death was a good motivator, as he knew from personal experience. It probably helped that snow had fallen overnight, making the city seem pure and clean with its pretty white carpet. People smiled easier and nodded in a friendly way, passing them on the street. Despite the rations and the bombings and everything, that people still smiled at one another made him feel a little more hope than usual.

Lunch was taken on the early side of noon in a small diner that reminded Jethro of home.

Tony noticed his nostalgia and asked, "What're you thinking about?"

"Home," Jethro admitted honestly.

Looking surprised, Tony asked, "You know, I don't think we've even had this conversation yet. Where are you from?"

Jethro smiled and lightly touched Tony's shin with his foot. "Washington."

Tony blinked. "DC?"

"Yep," Jethro confirmed, then frowned when Tony started laughing and demanded, "What?"

Hazel eyes sparkling, Tony informed him, "Me, too. Grew up in New York, but I live in DC now."

And they both had to cross the ocean before meeting. Shaking his head at the strangeness of fate, Jethro asked, "How long now?"

"About seven years, well, not counting the time after I enlisted," Tony amended.

Chuckling, Jethro said, "We wouldn't have met anyhow, since I was in, let's see, seven years ago I was in Sacramento."

"Oh yeah? Doing what?"

"Classified."

Tony nodded and asked, "So what's your family like?"

With a minor grimace, Jethro replied, "Don't have one, since my sister died ten years ago."

"Oh, damn. I'm sorry," Tony apologized sincerely.

Pushing his mashed potatoes around on his plate, Jethro said, "It was a long time ago."

Clearly understanding that Jethro didn't want to talk about it, Tony questioned, "So who's your favorite singer?"

"Are we playing Twenty Questions now?" Jethro countered, amused.

Tony grinned, nudging Jethro's shin with his boot as he replied, "Maybe. You sure don't talk about yourself without a direct question asked."

"That's because there's nothing to talk about."

"Right."

"Tony."

"No, I believe you."

The merry twinkle in his lover's eyes said otherwise, but the waitress arrived with their check, saving him from having to reply. They both reached for it, but Jethro was quicker and said, "My treat. You can get the movies."

Tony snorted. "Yeah, like that's a comparison."

Jethro chuckled and pulled out his wallet.

*  *  *  *

The theater was, indeed, mostly empty when they bought tickets for the two p.m. showing. And even though the movie itself was good and funny and great for escaping the reality of the world they lived in, the best thing about it was holding Tony's hand in the dark. Slouched down in the seats, leaning his shoulder against Tony's as they watched the movie, Jethro couldn't remember the last time he'd been as happy as this. The promise Tony gave him in the dark, his thumb brushing slowly back and forth over Jethro's hand, sent a thrill through him the entire distracting time.

Outside in the cold December afternoon, Tony tugged in his jacket and said, "Donovan said there were ice sculptures in Hyde park. You want to take a look?"

Taking an honest assessment of his leg and back, Jethro almost said no, but then agreed, "Sure. I could do with a walk."

"Let me know if you need to take a break," Tony warned.

Jethro smiled at him and started walking. It was a long walk, interrupted by a bus ride, before they were there. Tony seemed to have no problem walking at his pace, so he didn't even try to go faster than he really could. He wanted to be in good shape for that night, after all, even if they didn't do more than just sleep together. At least Mrs. Mallard being out of town would be a boon in that direction. They didn't have to worry about anyone else being in the house except Ducky, and the kid would be sound asleep before they started anything.

The sculptures were set up by the lake and all filled with incredible detail and a delicate beauty. He'd never had any luck at carving or making things from scratch, which was something Jethro really regretted. Jethro just grinned as he sat on a bench and watched Tony get into a snowball fight with some truants. By the time it was over, Tony was on the ground being pelted into submission by the three kids until he cried out, "Uncle! Uncle! I give!"

There were a few more snowballs, but the kids took off laughing, and Tony brushed the snow from himself as he walked over to collapse on the bench beside Jethro. His face was flushed and the grin infectious and Jethro had never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his life. Instead, he said, "We should get back. Ducky'll be home by now."

Tony sighed, but nodded and agreed, "Just as soon as I catch my breath."

"You're a big kid, you know that?" Jethro teased.

Laughing, Tony replied, "You're just jealous, old man."

At that, Jethro laughed out loud and pushed to his feet. "Come on, junior, let's go home."

Tony hopped to his feet and fell into step with him, bumping hips with him every so often as they walked back to the bus stop.

*  *  *  *

"Checkmate!" Ducky exclaimed, jumping to his feet and hopping around in imitation of Tony's victory dance.

Jethro laughed at Tony's dumbfounded expression at his fourth straight loss and reminded, "I told you he was good."

"Good, yeah, but this is scary!" Tony countered, shaking his head. "Okay. Enough of this. Time to get serious. Where's the checker's board?"

Still chuckling to himself, Jethro pointed out, "It's past time for Ducky to get to bed."

"Oh, but Captain!" Ducky protested. "Just one more game!"

Jethro shook his head and said firmly, "Bed, Ducky. I have no intention of getting on your mother's bad side."

"You?" Tony asked incredulously. "I'm the one she doesn't like."

Ducky heaved a sigh, but stood and started putting the pieces away, then headed upstairs to get ready for bed.

Sitting down on the sofa beside Tony, Jethro asked, "You want to get something to drink while I tuck him in?"

"How close is his bedroom to yours anyhow?" Tony countered softly, licking his lips.

Jethro nearly groaned watching the quick slip of tongue over lips and answered, "The other side of the house and on the next floor."

"In that case, I'll just wait for you in your room."

A shiver ran through Jethro as Tony stood and helped him up, his hand ghosting down Jethro's back before the other officer went upstairs, taking them two at a time. Forcing his body to calm down, Jethro moved slowly up the steps to the second floor, making sure he was back to normal before he even got to the stairs that led up to Ducky and Mrs. Mallard's rooms. Opening the door at the base of the stairs, he climbed up them and knocked on Ducky's door, getting a quick, "Come in!" that made him smile.

Already in bed, book in hand, Ducky beamed at him when he entered and said, "This was the best night ever!"

Jethro sat on the edge of the bed, still smiling. "Glad to hear that, Duck. Brush your teeth?"

"Check!"

"Washed your face?"

"Check!"

"Went to the bathroom?"

"Check!"

Jethro ruffled the kid's hair and said, "Good man. Tony and I are going to turn in early, so if you need something, make sure you knock first."

Ducky frowned. "He's sleeping over?"

"I didn't want him walking home in the dark, just out of the hospital," Jethro answered, not really lying.

Accepting that as truth, Ducky smiled and scooted down in his bed.

Jethro looked at the book and asked, "Hornblower and the Hotspur? Isn't that a little old for you?"

Making a face, Ducky answered, "I like boats. And there's lots of action, too!"

"I bet there is," Jethro agreed, smiling. "Sleep well, Ducky. Don't stay up too late."

Ducky yawned and shook his head, pushing his glasses back into place. "Just one chapter a night. It's too good to read fast."

Standing, Jethro said, "You're a good kid, Ducky. I'll see you in the morning."

"Night, Captain."

Jethro closed the door behind him and walked slowly down the stairs, leaning on the rail to do so. His leg was throbbing, as was his sciatica, and he sighed in disappointment, knowing that he wouldn't be good for anything that night. Jethro pushed the door open and stopped short on finding Tony naked and sprawled on top of his bed. Feeling the air leave his body in a rush, Jethro just stood there for a long moment, drinking his fill of the incredible sight.

"You going to come in, or just stand there all night?" Tony asked, amused.

Shaking off the wave of lust, Jethro stepped inside and locked the door behind him. There was no way that he was going to have Ducky accidentally walk in on them, even if they didn't wind up doing anything.

Tony frowned and observed, "You're limping."

Jethro snorted. "You're quick."

Making a face at him, Tony sat up as he ordered, "Strip and get on the bed. I'll give you another massage."

"I'll fall asleep," Jethro protested.

Tony winked, promising, "Trust me, you won't fall asleep, but you'll definitely feel better."

Jethro snorted again, but started undoing his shirt.

Tony hopped off the bed and crossed swiftly to him, taking his hand and telling him softly, "Let me do this. Come on, sit down, Jethro."

Swallowing in surprise and some gratitude, Jethro nodded awkwardly and hobbled to the bed, sitting down and letting the other man navigate his clothes with ease. It had been a long time since anyone had wanted to do it for him and the fact that Tony wanted to, meant a lot to him. Tony knelt on the floor to get his boots and socks off, massaging Jethro's feet one at a time before standing again. Jethro lifted his hips to aid in the removal of his pants and briefs, and then he was naked on the bed, holding tight to his cane like it was a shield. No one but doctors had seen him completely naked since the explosion.

Gently, Tony took the cane from him and set it carefully against the nightstand table before turning back to him. Jethro pulled him in tight, between his knees, pressing his face into the taut stomach and feeling the strong arms wrap around his shoulders when Tony kissed the top of his head. "Come on, Jethro, lie back. It's okay, I promise."

Jethro pushed himself back on the bed, looking up into eyes that showed nothing but love and desire. There was none of the feared pity or anything to indicate that the other man found his body less than pleasing. He turned over, remembering that Tony had started on his back last time, and said, "Caitlin got hold of some natural oils for me, they're in the top drawer there," and pushed his face into the pillow to wait.

"This will definitely work, though I don't think I want to know what you told her it was for," Tony told him humorously. "Relax, Jethro, we've done this part before."

Not the part I'm worried about, Jethro thought, even as he tried to make himself relax.

Tony's hands were strong and sure, more caressing than last time, but just as experienced. It wasn't long before Jethro groaned in pleasure as his body slowly rearranged itself properly, thanks to Tony's massage. He was falling asleep despite Tony's assurances, when something warm and wet slid between his ass, jerking him very definitely awake. He wanted to twist around and see what the other man was doing, but didn't want to ruin all of Tony's work.

The movement of what had to be Tony's tongue repeated along his crack and Jethro buried his face in the pillow when it delved inside his ass. Muffling his groan in the pillow, Jethro couldn't help arching up and back, but Tony's arm held him down, making sure he couldn't move and hurt himself. The torment didn't last too long, thankfully, but he was panting and hard when it was over.

"Turn over," Tony ordered, voice hoarse.

Jethro rolled onto his back to find Tony just as hard as he was, the sight of him breathtaking. Tony straddled him again and bent forward, taking his mouth in a hard, devouring kiss that stole even more of his breath. Jethro used what little air he had left to moan into his lover's mouth, aching for more and threading his fingers through Tony's hair to keep him in place. He bit Tony's lower lip unexpectedly when a strong hand took hold of his cock and started stroking it, moving the sheathe up and down in a hand slick with oil.

Nuzzling at Jethro's throat, Tony groaned, "Feel so good, Jethro, gotta have you in me."

"Yes, God yes," Jethro agreed emphatically. "Ride me, Tony."

Tony took his hand and poured some of the oil in it and Jethro moved his fingers back behind Tony, pushing one slowly into the man's hole. He took his time, avidly watching Tony's face as he stretched him, loving the way the younger man gasped softly and pushed back on the invading fingers as one grew to two, and then three. Jethro held out his hand for more oil, but it took a few seconds for Tony to figure that out, which caused Jethro to grin.

"Oh shut up," Tony muttered, even as his lips tried not to twitch into a smile of his own. "You're next, Captain."

Jethro smirked and said, "Looking forward to it."

And he was. Tony would have to do all the work, and they would have to be careful, like now, but Jethro definitely wanted to feel his lover inside him. Thoughts faded away quickly, though, when Tony took control of the situation and lowered himself slowly on Jethro's cock. They both moaned when he was fully seated on Jethro, and he took a minute to control himself. The tight heat constricting his dick was more than he'd felt in so long that he was ready to shoot at any second.

"Ready, lover?"

Opening eyes that he hadn't realized were closed, Jethro met the warm hazel gaze and nodded. Tony held out his hands and Jethro laced their fingers together, giving what support he could to his lover as Tony began to lift and lower himself on Jethro. His heart pounded and his breath quickened as Tony kept things slow and careful, making things almost torturous for them both. He had no idea how long they went on like that, the smell of sweat and sex filling the air, along with the stifled grunts and harsh panting as the love making continued.

Jethro pulled one of his hands free of Tony's, knowing he was edging closer to orgasm and wanting to bring his lover with him. He wrapped his hand around the strangely bare cock, devoid of its foreskin, and started stroking and twisting around it. Tony slammed down extra hard in surprise, crying out loud at the contact.

They both paused at that, breathing hard, but there was no noise from above to indicate that Ducky had woken. Tony grinned at him and gasped, "Warn a fella next time!"

"Got it," Jethro agreed, just as breathless as he started up again with his hand.

Tony bit his lip as his eyes closed and his grip tightened on Jethro's. Sensing that Tony was finally nearing the end of his endurance, thank God, Jethro redoubled his efforts to get him off, using his free hand to smear the precome over the bulbed head with his thumb. Tony arched almost violently at that, coming and clamping down on Jethro's cock inside his body, which in turn set off fireworks behind Jethro's eyes as he came.

Sagging down onto him, Tony gasped for air as he lay on Jethro who, for once, wasn't feeling any pain whatsoever. Jethro put his arms around his lover, savoring the feel of being buried deep in Tony's body, even if it wasn't going to last. Mumbling incoherently about not hurting him, Tony slid to the side, pulling himself off Jethro and immediately curling up against him.

Jethro smiled and kissed Tony on the cheek, staring at the ceiling as he memorized everything about what had just happened.

*  *  *  *

Tony woke happily sore and utterly replete, plastered against Jethro's back, the other man having turned over some time in the night. Probably to a more comfortable position, he realized fuzzily. It wasn't even light out, but his internal clock said it was at least five. Tony yawned as he kissed Jethro between the shoulder blades and climbed out of bed. He had to get back to base before someone declared him AWOL, which would happen if he didn't report in first thing this morning.

"Where are you doing?" Jethro asked sleepily.

Turning at the door, Tony answered, "I've got to get back to base and report in."

Jethro yawned and turned onto his back, his form just barely visible in the dark, as he ordered, "You've got time, flyboy, get your ass back in bed."

Tony grinned and replied, "Planning to be that quick, huh?"

"You got it," Jethro agreed, voice warm with humor.

Tony hesitated, but then mentally shrugged and headed back to bed. There probably wouldn't be a lot of opportunities like this until the war was over, and who knew how long that would be? After a long, lazy, good-morning kiss, Tony pulled back and asked, "What do you want?"

His hand reaching down to stroke Tony's cock, Jethro answered hotly, "I want to taste you, want you in my mouth, Tony."

Groaning softly, Tony nipped his lover's shoulder and said, "I can solve that, don't move," before turning over and settling with his face over Jethro's cock and his own hovering over Jethro's mouth. Wet heat surrounded him almost instantly and he stuffed his mouth with Jethro's shaft in order to stifle the sounds trying to get out at the sensation. He'd had this before in the bathroom, but it was just as great as the last time and he wanted it as often as possible. He wanted to make Jethro fall apart for years to come and sucked eagerly on the dick in his mouth, going down all the way.

Jethro's groan reverberated along Tony's shaft, spiking the pleasure and need through him. It was almost impossible to focus with the way his lover kept taking him in so completely and all too soon, his body tightened and his hips jerked rapidly in orgasm. He spilled down Jethro's throat, gasping and pressing his mouth to Jethro's thigh to stifle himself as his lover's throat swallowed around him.

Once more in control, he retook the hard, leaking shaft and sucked hard and deliberate, his tongue sliding into the extra sheathe of skin so few of his lovers had ever had. It didn't take long to drive Jethro over the edge and he swallowed down the come with pleasure, milking the other man until Jethro's groan was tinged with complaint. Pulling off then, he gave a last lick before swapping around and curling up against Jethro's side.

"God, Tony, that was...really good," Jethro told him with a heartfelt sigh.

Tony grinned briefly at the inelegance of the compliment, even as he knew how sincere it was. Jethro wasn't much for words, no doubt about that, but the praise he did give out was earned. Heaving his own sigh, just as satisfied, Tony said softly, "I love you."

Smiling against his temple, Jethro replied, "Me, too, Tony. More than...well...let's just say I haven't felt like this in a long damn time."

Tony was almost afraid to ask, but he had to. "Jen?"

But Jethro shook his head and answered, "Another Naval officer named Stan Henricks. No, Jen and I...it was never about love with her. If we had gotten married, it would have been one of convenience and respect, but not love."

Thinking it over, Tony asked, "What happened to him?"

"Stan? He joined NCIS for some ungodly reason," Jethro told him, shaking his head. "Never understood that. Glorified cop, is what he is now. He doesn't even have a rank any more."

Tony shrugged and said, "Everyone's got a calling."

"True," Jethro agreed before falling silent.

Tony kissed him again and reluctantly pointed out, "I really need to take a shower before leaving, and Ducky will be up soon."

Jethro's sigh this time had nothing of contentment in it, but he nodded. "I know. I just don't want to leave this bed."

"You've got time, get some more sleep."

But Jethro shook his head and said, "I'll see you off."

"Okay, but stay here for now and keep off your feet," Tony urged.

Jethro swatted him on the ass. "I am not some invalid, DiMarco. Get your ass in the shower and let me get the coffee started."

Shaking his head, Tony got up and unlocked the door muttering, "Damn stubborn fool."

"And don't you forget it," Jethro called after him.

Tony didn't take long in the shower, knowing that he had to get back as soon as possible, basically just rinsing off and jumping out of the tub. Towel around his waist as he opened the door to go back to Jethro's room, Tony found a sleepy looking Ducky with wild hair standing in the hall and grinned. "Morning, shortstop."

Ducky waved vaguely at him and wandered silently into the bathroom, putting up the toilet seat.

"He doesn't actually talk until he's at the breakfast table and mostly done with his cereal," Jethro informed him when they met in the hall.

Tony chuckled and said, "Sounds like the kid could use some coffee."

"I am not stunting his growth," Jethro retorted. "You want breakfast before you take off?"

"Nah, I'm good," Tony replied. "I'll get dressed and see you downstairs."

Jethro nodded and headed for the stairs while Tony returned to the bedroom. He opened the window while he was there, not wanting Mrs. Mallard to come home to the smell of their sex, as much as he personally liked the way it lingered. The woman was as sharp as a tack and just as painful when she wanted to be, Tony suspected. Jethro didn't need to be looking for new living quarters because of him.

It was only a few minutes before he jogged downstairs, dressed and ready to go. Ducky was at the kitchen table, not looking any more awake, as he shoveled cereal into his mouth without really looking. Chuckling at the sight, Tony looked over at Jethro and nearly groaned out loud at how damn sexy the man looked in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt with bare feet at the stove.

Jethro turned at the chuckle and met his gaze before briefly looking him up and down. A smirk tugged at his lips as he observed, "You'll do."

Tony snorted. "Thanks."

"C'mon, I'll walk you out," Jethro offered.

Tony shortened his stride to keep pace with Jethro as they walked slowly to the front hall. Once there, he paused and reached out to sketch a hand over his lover's face, not actually touching him. "Catch up later?"

Jethro grimaced and answered, "Not sure. It's going to be a busy day with meetings, but I'll try and join you for supper in the mess."

"Meetings. Fun," Tony teased.

Cuffing him upside the back of the head, Jethro informed him, "It's not nice to make fun of your superiors."

"Don't you mean my elders?"

"You're really cruising for it, DiMarco."

Tony grinned, but it faded and he sighed, not wanting to leave even though he knew he had to. "All right. I'll see you later, Captain."

Jethro nodded and gripped his hand tightly before turning and heading back to the kitchen.

Watching him go, Tony sighed again and left the house, coughing in the bitter cold air outside. He shivered and zipped up the jacket, grateful for the shepherd's sweater under his jacket as he walked towards the base. He wouldn't have to walk the whole way, fortunately, since he could catch a bus partway there.

Tony was still walking for the bus stop when the engines first rumbled into his consciousness and he froze in place. His head cocked to the side as he listened for the direction and looked up into the still-dark sky. The streetlamps on this block were out, thanks to the power shortages, but he could just barely make out the time on his watch, which was about five thirty. Most of the city was still sleeping, which was the perfect time for a raid on an already depressed population.

Without thinking, he ran back the way he came, not even caring that he was out in the open and not near shelter. The only thought he had was to get back to Jethro and Ducky, to keep them safe. The bombs fell before then and he screamed in fury as he saw the sky light up right where Ducky's block should be. Putting on a burst of speed, Tony ran as fast as he ever had towards the fires as a second and third bomb went off. Pain lanced through his side but he didn't stop to see what had hit him, he just kept running.

The street was in ruins when he got there and Tony skidded to a stop in horror, taking in the devastation. Shaking off the paralysis, he started up again, struggling against the pain in his side and trying to breathe as best he could through lungs abused now by smoke and cold and a mile run at full tilt. The Mallard house was partially caved in, but not on fire so far as he could tell. The one beside it was, but Tony ignored the warning in favor of running up the front stairs to the Mallard's door. It was jammed, so he stepped back and kicked at it repeatedly until it opened.

"Jethro! Jethro where are you!" Tony shouted, coughing as smoke hit him. "Jethro! Ducky? Ducky, can you hear me!?"

There was no answer as Tony ran to the kitchen and found it empty of people, but filled with smoke from the grease fire on the stove. He took a second to grab the skillet and shove it into the sink before looking for the basement door. Jethro would have heard the engines and gone to ground in the root cellar Mrs. Mallard was sure to have, with as many boarders as she rented to. He found the door and yanked it open, shouting as he stumbled down the top few stairs.

Finding neither of them there, either, Tony groaned in frustration and fear and ran back upstairs. Taking the main stairs two at a time, he continued to shout for both of them, but got no answer when he burst into Jethro's room. The east side of the second floor ceiling was cracked and made ominous creaking noises, signaling just how much pressure it was taking from the caved-in third floor.

Agony sliced through him as Tony realized that was the only place left to look. He hurried to the door, but didn't open it, not knowing just how precarious the balance of the building was. Instead, he shouted, "Jethro? Ducky? You in there?"

"Tony! Tony help!" Ducky screamed.

"Easy buddy, I'm coming in!" Tony shouted back, taking a breath before opening the door that led to the third floor.

Tony jumped aside as rubble came sliding down at him and he hit the side wall, cursing fluently as the pain increased. When nothing else came out, he looked into the stairwell, but there wasn't much to see. There was a tiny space on the bottom three steps where Ducky huddled under Jethro's motionless body. Shoving aside the panic and heartache to deal with later, Tony held out a hand and ordered calmly, "Come on out of there, Ducky, come on shortstop, you can do it."

Ducky crawled out from under Jethro and latched onto Tony, who grunted at the tight grip around his waist. "Ducky, I need to check out the Captain. You have to be brave and get outside, okay? Wait for the firemen and police to get here, okay? Can you do that?"

Wiping at his tear-stained face, Ducky's breath hitched on a sob but he nodded and let go of Tony, limping to the stairs. Seeing that the kid wasn't really hurt, Tony turned his attention to his fallen lover and moaned in despair before he even got close enough to see what had happened. They must have been on their way down from the attic when the bombs had fallen. Jethro had used his body to shield Ducky from the collapsing roof, not standing a chance of surviving, but giving the one chance to the boy.

"Oh God, Jethro," Tony sobbed, before getting control of himself.

He could hear the building crack and felt it sway under his feet and knew that it was only a matter of time before the rest of it came down. The temptation to just stay and let it kill him, too, was nearly overwhelming as he stared at Jethro's broken body. But it was no way to honor the other man's memory and he swallowed back the pain to grab his lover's body and pull it as carefully free as he could. Tony stumbled and wound up on his ass, holding Jethro's body in his arms in a parody of a lover's embrace. His pain escaped in a loud sob, tears spilling freely as he forced himself to his feet and pulled Jethro over his shoulder.

The walk out of that house with Jethro's body was the worst journey he'd ever had to make in his life. By the time he reached the chaos of the street and lay Jethro on the ground, Tony couldn't feel anything any more. He sat on the dirty snow by Jethro's body and ignored everything around him, including Ducky, who sat beside him, holding his hand while Tony held Jethro's. He lost track of the people who tried to get him to move, brushing off those who actually tried to physically take him away.

"Son? Son, are you okay? Where are you hurt?"

Tony blinked stupidly when the Admiral's voice penetrated the fog of his grief, looking up to find the man staring down at him in concern. "Hurt? I'm not..."

"You're bleeding, Lieutenant. Your sweater's soaked in blood," the Admiral said kindly, crouching down beside him.

Looking down at himself in surprise, Tony discovered that the other man was right. He gave a weak smile and said, "I guess that's why I'm so cold."

"Come on, let's get you seen to," the man ordered softly.

But Tony shook his head and told him, "I can't leave Jethro. Something'll happen, there's too much going on here. Someone could..."

"He'll be fine, Lieutenant," Morrow promised. "Look. I've got an escort and they'll stay with him. He'll get a proper burial, I promise, but I don't want to bury two of my men today."

Tony tried again with, "Ducky needs someone to get him to his mother. She's out of town."

"I'll make sure he's taken care of, they both will be son, I promise."

Feeling weak and sick, Tony looked at his lover's bloody and bruised face, so unnaturally still and told Morrow, "He saved the boy, saved Ducky."

"And now it's time to save you," the Admiral stated firmly, putting his hand under Tony's elbow and pulling him upright. "That's what Jethro would want, Lieutenant."

Tony groaned and staggered against the older man, tears spilling shamelessly as he was led from the area. He took a last look at his lover's body as he was loaded onto a stretcher and brought to the ambulance at the curb, unable to stop crying and not caring who saw it. His last glimpse of Ducky was the boy picking up Jethro's cane and holding tight to it, and then the ambulance door closed.

 

EPILOGUE

 

"That's the last time I ever saw him," Ducky said sadly, looking into his glass of Scotch. "I heard later that he'd been cut by some flying glass on the way to get to myself and Captain Gibson. He almost lost too much blood to make it, but he did. At least until he died in a dogfight somewhere over Germany a few months later. Once the new planes were brought in, I believe they were the North American P-51 Mustang with its auxiliary gas tanks, that was the key, you see. Before then, they didn't have any fighter planes capable of going all the way to Germany."

"Oh my God, Ducky, that is the saddest story I have ever heard!" Abby wailed, wiping at her eyes with the cocktail napkin that Kate handed over.

He gave her a fond smile and said, "Not really, but it does seem appropriate, given the day."

Jethro held up a glass. "Happy D-Day, Ducky."

Ducky smiled briefly at him looking as tired as Jethro had seen him in a long time. The older man raised his own glass and replied, "God bless the ones who don't make it back."

"Amen," Tony agreed quietly, raising his own glass.

The others joined in with their glasses and there was a sober clinking of glasses all around. Everyone took a sip or healthy gulp of their drink, depending, and Ducky sighed as he said, "It's well passed my bedtime, I'm afraid. Time for me to be heading out."

"C'mon, Ducky, we'll drive you home," Kate offered.

Ducky grinned and winked. "With an offer such as that from such a beautiful lady, how could I refuse? Don't stay out too late, gentlemen."

McGee stood as he offered, "I'll walk out with you. Tony, you coming?"

Tony held up his half-finished drink and said, "Eventually."

Shaking his head in mild disapproval, McGee walked out with Ducky and the women, leaving them alone at the table.

Tony snorted all of a sudden. "You do know they stuck us with the check, right?"

A grin briefly twitched over Jethro's lips and he said, "Don't worry, DiNozzo, I'll take care of it."

The bar had mostly emptied out by then, with only a couple of regulars still sitting at the bar across the room.

Feeling strangely restless as he watched Tony take a drink from his vodka, Jethro observed, "There's no way that's a true story."

"Nope," Tony agreed complacently. "A ten-year-old Ducky, I sort of believe, but he wouldn't have known all those details."

"Still. Nice story," Jethro commented.

Tony nodded and took another drink from his glass, not quite finishing it. "Almost ready to go, Boss?"

Jethro was about to nod when 'I'll Be Seeing You,' came over some invisible speaker. It was Bing Crosby, who'd always been one of his favorite singers. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone. Shaking off the urge to ask Tony to dance, he just nodded and said, "Ready when you are."

Downing the rest of his drink, Tony got to his feet and swayed, grabbing hold of the table.

Jethro snorted and got to his feet, putting his arm under Tony's elbow as he said, "Better let me drive, DiNozzo."

"Didn't think I'd had that much," Tony said, frowning at his glass as though it had betrayed him. "I know I didn't."

Pulling out his wallet, Jethro grinned faintly and took out the hundred that he'd withdrawn, suspecting that he'd be picking up the tab at the end of the night. He flagged down their waitress and handed over the bill with, "Don't worry about the change."

"I love you old Navy guys," she answered, grinning.

Tempted to take the money back for the 'old' part of the reply, Jethro mentally smacked her in the back of the head and guided Tony to the front door. "We'll swing by in the morning and get your car."

"Can't we swing by and get your car in the morning?" Tony complained.

Jethro snorted. "Not a chance. You think I'm going to leave my car here?"

Tony groaned as if in pain at that, and Jethro just barely restrained a chuckle. He got Tony settled in the passenger's seat and walked around to the driver's side. It was a relatively short ride to the house, but an unusually complicated and drawn out affair to get Tony inside. By the time they'd reached the spare bedroom, Tony wouldn't let go and yanked Jethro down on top of him.

Shaking his head, Jethro asked, "What is wrong with you tonight? You never drink this much."

Tony held tight around his neck, not letting go as he answered, muffled, "Won't lose you again, Jethro, can't go through that again."

More than a little baffled, Jethro managed to get loose just enough to shift to the side and said, "You haven't lost me yet, DiNozzo, now let go."

But then Tony's mouth plastered to his and he hooked a leg over Jethro's hip, pinning him in place with a desperate kiss. Jethro resisted for all of five seconds before giving in with a groan. He gentled it, though, and drew it out, knowing that the other man would be passing out shortly. His knowledge of Tony proved true when the kiss slacked off altogether and Tony relaxed against the bed with a slow sigh, vodka kissed release of air.

Pushing up onto his side, Jethro smiled fondly at the other man and whispered, "You're going to have a hell of a hangover in the morning, Tony. Good thing the boss is in love with you and will cut you some slack, even if you don't believe that's true yet."

Jethro brushed his fingers through the short, soft hair and stole another kiss before climbing off the bed. He straightened the other man out so he wouldn't wake up in a strange position and sore, on top of hung-over. Tucking the covers around Tony, he took a few seconds to just look at him, then left the room whistling God Bless the Child.

***

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