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A Stitch In Time
by hawk_soaring
It was a routine case – maybe a little more tense than some because they were looking at international espionage, but nothing they couldn’t handle and hadn’t. Gibbs took lead; delegating duties, verifying covers, and handing out assignments to his team. He didn’t like sitting on his ass in the surveillance vehicle listening to a thin scratchy conversation over his ear piece, but he couldn’t deny that Tony was more suited to the undercover op than him.
The ship’s crew was international – and almost uniformly *young*. A couple of days’ scruff on his face, nondescript clothing, and Tony was ready to sign on as part of the crew.
Once he was out of the interview room, it didn’t take long for Tony to strike up a furtive conversation with their informant, an undercover NCIS agent stationed overseas. He’d apparently been on board the ship for a month now and was, according to him, fully trusted by everyone on board. Jethro shook his head in mock exasperation as he listened to them talk. He could just about tell whenever someone passed them as the conversation took a sharp turn into basic shipboard policies such as a newbie would be expected to learn quickly.
The pair ducked into the laundry room, out of the way of prying eyes and keen ears and the informant stared out of the porthole for a long minute before Tony sighed heavily. Gibbs grimaced at the obviousness of his agent’s lack of patience. “Don’t blow this, DiNozzo,” he murmured aloud as he stared at the ship from his vantage point.
**~**~**
“So, what have you got?” Tony demanded suddenly. The room gave him the creeps somehow and he looked around quickly. There were a number of barrels that he assumed contained laundry detergent, sitting beside large industrial washing machines – nothing to ping his internal alarm, but there it was, setting up a din in his head that screamed for him to get out. Gibbs would owe him for this assignment. Maybe a massage. . .
Tony startled as the other man started talking. He soon realized espionage was probably the least of their worries as the suspect seemed to have direct ties to Al Qaeda and a terrorist plot involving a Navy warship in the Middle East.
“Holy fuck,” he murmured as he meandered toward the machines lining one side of the room. This was fucking huge. He hoped the team was getting all of it.
Loud voices outside the laundry room spun him around and his informant started toward the door. Tony frowned as he noticed a bright yellow barrel sitting in the middle of the room. The others were all a dull red color . .
.
**~**~**
“Ziva, what do you see?”
Ziva was looking at the ship through a pair of binoculars, searching the decks for any sign of danger – anything out of the ordinary. She shrugged. “Nothing –”
‘What the hell?’ Tony’s tinny voice floated out of the headset and Jethro sat up straighter at the hint of suspicion in his voice. He put a hand to his ear, pressing against the ear piece slightly to get a better seal and waved the other occupants of the van to silence. There were noises in the background. ‘Shit!’
Jethro barely had time to register that Tony sounded scared before the sounds of an explosion ripped through the ear piece, causing him to curse eloquently as he pulled the offending item from his ear. He stared in horror at the ball of flame that had erupted from the side of the ship. Jethro could hear McGee trying to raise Tony through the surveillance equipment but he couldn’t process that. The explosion had been too close to Tony. He had heard it . . . and he had heard the fear in Tony’s voice. Tony had known what was coming. Somehow he had known.
**~**~**
They had been in Baltimore Harbor when the attack had happened so it was natural for Tony to have been taken to the hospital there – Shock Trauma Center. It was just a few blocks from the harbor but Ducky had still beaten him there. Jethro had barely been able to breathe as he watched the fire light up the sky. Ziva had driven to the ship with reckless abandon but he had barely noticed, grabbing the “oh shit” handle instinctively as the vehicle swerved from side to side around obstacles. Flashing their NCIS badges had gotten them immediate access but the ship’s corridors were full of people and smoke and it took what seemed like forever to get close to the scene of the accident – longer for anyone to be allowed close enough to gain access.
Jethro had to hand it to the sailors; they had responded to the scene quickly. Rescue people and firemen crawled over the area, clearing hoses as the NCIS team got near.
“We’ve got a live one!” People swarmed the room and the team was held back as a stretcher passed by.
Jethro felt his knees go weak as he recognized his senior field agent. He stepped forward, shrugging off hands that threatened to hold him back. “DiNozzo! Tony – I –”
“We have to get him out of here, Agent Gibbs.”
Jethro raised his eyes and stepped back away from the stretcher. The pity in that young gaze was nearly his undoing – but he had a job to do and he would damn well do it. He nodded and then Tony was gone.
**~**~**
It was hours later when Jethro finally got to the hospital. They had cleared the scene and the utter devastation had unnerved him. It wasn’t until they had spoken to one of the rescuers that Jethro finally realized just how Tony had survived. He’d been found wedged in between two washing machines, almost behind one of them. The blast had swelled around him but the heavy gauge metal had saved his life. It had also nearly crushed him and Jethro sighed softly as he looked down on his lover as he lay in the hospital bed.
Tony was on a respirator and one side of his face was raw with superficial burns and abrasions. The doctor had said there would be no scarring and Jethro had breathed a sigh of relief at the news. DiNozzo was nothing if not vain about his appearance and this news would set his mind at ease when he woke and looked in a mirror.
One hand was bandaged – more burns and a sprained wrist. He also had a couple of cracked ribs and more bumps and bruises than could be counted. The concussion was what was worrying them at this point – and the smoke inhalation. With Tony’s lungs being scarred from his bout of the plague, they were worried about the amount of smoke he had been exposed to. The respirator would stay in place until he woke – whenever that would be.
“You said he was from Washington?”
The doctor’s voice startled him from his thoughts and Jethro nodded as he set Tony’s hand, which he’d been holding, back on the crisp hospital sheet. “Yeah – why?”
The doctor shrugged. “I treated him once, I believe. I’ll have to check the records but – was he a Baltimore cop?”
“Yeah – he was. It’s been a few years though.”
The doctor smiled. “Thought so. Personable young guy – and cocky! What a pain in the ass when he finally woke up. All he wanted was to be discharged and he even threatened to go AMA until his partner stepped in and talked him down.” He looked sheepish then. “You going to stick around for when –?”
Jethro smiled. “Yeah – I’m sticking around.”
It took Tony longer than they had predicted to wake from the coma and Ducky said there would be an EEG and possibly a brain MRI in his future because of it. And then he’d patted Jethro’s hand and told him not to worry: Tony had a thick skull. Jethro had snorted softly at that. Yes, he did – and Jethro loved that thick skull.
Jethro was napping when Tony started choking on the respirator and the room was swarming with people before he could even draw a breath to call for help. They were efficient and professional and before he knew it, Tony was extubated. As they waited for Tony to wake, they bathed and changed him, treating his injuries with fresh antibiotic cream and bandages – and then they waited. The little flurry of activity must have stimulated Tony because it was mere minutes later when Jethro saw his eyes flutter open.
“Hey,” he said softly as he stood and bent over the bed. “How’re you feeling?”
Tony frowned, turning his head from side to side as he looked around the room. Then he sighed and relaxed back against the pillow. “Hospital?” he croaked.
“Yeah,” Jethro said. “You’re in the hospital. You gave us quite a scare.”
Tony licked his lips. “Don’t remember. What happened?”
Just then the doctor walked in. “I hear we have a conscious patient at last,” he said with a smile as he approached the bed.
“Yeah,” Jethro said. “Just.”
“Good!” The doctor stood by the bed and looked down at Tony. “I hope this isn’t going to become a habit, Agent DiNozzo.”
Tony frowned. “It’s Detective, Doc,” he said easily. After a minute a smile blossomed on his face. “Hey – don’t I know you?” When the doctor didn’t answer him right away he snorted. “Yeah, you were the same one who patched me up after I rolled my car chasing that scumbag, Williams. Remember?”
The doctor shared a look with Gibbs, gesturing for him to step back and not say anything. “Sure, I remember you, Tony. Looks like you used up another of your nine lives. You were pretty beat up.”
“What happened, Doc?” Tony winced as he shifted on the bed. “Was it another car crash? Because I gotta tell you, the major is gonna kill me if I totaled another car.”
Jethro stifled a gasp. The major? The major was Tony’s old boss when he worked in Baltimore – as a detective. Damn. Jethro came back to the conversation as the doctor told Tony to get some rest. He then nodded to Jethro, who followed him out of the room after checking to see that Tony had closed his eyes and appeared to be napping again.
As soon as the door closed at his back, Jethro sighed loudly. “What the hell is going on, Doc? How can Tony call himself a detective and talk like the Major is still his boss? What am I missing?”
The doctor motioned for Jethro to accompany him down the hall, away from Tony’s room, assuring him that Tony would be asleep for a while. Jethro followed him into an intimate family conference room and sat as the doctor closed the door.
Once he had taken his own seat, the doctor looked at Jethro. “I assume you noticed that Tony recognized me.”
Jethro nodded. “And he looked right past me as if I wasn’t even in the room.”
“Tony took a severe blow to the head in the explosion, Agent Gibbs. It is not uncommon to find that trauma victims remember nothing of the trauma itself – in Tony’s case, the explosion.”
“Is it also normal for Tony to have seemingly lost the last ten years of his life?” Jethro snapped.
“Well –”
“Don’t snow me, Doc,” Jethro said. “I need to know what’s going on – and if I’m ever going to get my Tony back.”
**~**~**
Jethro didn’t like it, but he would follow the doctor’s orders: no prompting Tony, no pressuring him into trying to remember the last ten years. He had been introduced to Tony as Leroy Jethro Gibbs; Special Agent and head of the MCRT at NCIS – and Tony’s current boss. That conversation alone had set Jethro’s nerves on edge. Pretending that there was nothing between them was slowly ripping his heart out and he could only hope that Tony regained his memory quickly.
The look of hurt and confusion on Abby’s face nearly did him in, but Jethro was only following the doctor’s orders when he told her she couldn’t visit. Tony wouldn’t know her anyway – and the stress could only be detrimental at this point in his recovery.
The hardest thing he had to do was introduce himself as Tony’s boss – not his lover, not his partner, not his friend – just his boss.
Tony scoffed at being a federal agent. “Why would I have given up being a cop? I love being a cop!”
Jethro couldn’t tell him about the betrayal of his partner. He couldn’t remind him of the full body tackle that had precipitated their first meeting. He couldn’t even remind him of the first time he’d smacked the back of his head, his fingers aching to run through the silky strands of hair – or the throbbing hard-on he’d wound up taking care of in the men’s room while Tony was in Human Resources.
The next hardest thing he did was to walk into his own house and realize that Tony’s things were missing. He had asked Tim, Abby, and Ziva to settle the things in Tony’s old apartment – the condo they hadn’t gotten around to putting on the market yet. It was as if someone had just come in while he was gone and turned back the clocks to a time when he wasn’t that happy with his life and it was as empty and barren as this house now was.
**~**~**
“B-boss?”
Jethro bit back a growl at Tim’s tentative inquiry. “What is it, McGee?” he snapped.
“J-just wondering how Tony is,” McGee stammered.
Jethro closed his eyes for just a moment before lifting his gaze to where Tim stood in front of his desk. “The same.” He looked back down at the papers scattered across his desk. Just the sight of Tony’s empty desk made him nauseous and he couldn’t look at it – even out of the corner of his eye.
“Oh,” Tim said softly. “Sorry, Boss.”
Jethro gulped, swallowing his anger and his hurt. Damn it. He shouldn’t let this get to him but every time someone asked it hit him like a punch to the solar plexus and he could barely catch his breath. Tony was home – in his home and Jethro was alone again.
For a very long time after losing his wife and daughter, Jethro had thought he would be alone for the rest of his life. He’d come to grips with that. But then Tony had waltzed in smelling like that expensive cinnamon shampoo he favored, flashing that big smile of his that lit up his whole face (and stirred something deep in Jethro’s gut), and weaseling his way onto Jethro’s team and into his life (and later, into his bed) – and Jethro felt like he just maybe would be allowed some happiness again.
And then the explosion had happened and everything was ripped out of his grasp again. This time it was almost worse because Tony was still there. He smelled the same. He smiled the same, if a little less easily. But he was definitely out of Jethro’s reach. Each and every time he saw Tony was like rubbing vinegar in an open wound. It hurt. But he plastered a smile on his face and answered Tony’s myriad questions – and prayed that his Tony would come back to him. The praying was easy in the light of the day. It was only at night – alone in his bed, his face buried in Tony’s pillow to catch the last traces of his lover’s scent, that despair caught up with him.
**~**~**
Tony was back at work – a little bruised and a lot thinner – and the constant closeness was killing him. Jethro knew his temper was short. He knew he was being a total bastard. But he couldn’t help it. Every time he looked up he saw Tony sitting at his desk – or, God forbid, perched on the edge of Tim’s, one leg swinging as they discussed the latest case or a cold one. Each and every time the hurt blossomed and a piece of Jethro’s heart died.
“I’m going for coffee,” Jethro announced as he pushed to his feet and stalked toward the elevator. When Tony slipped in as the elevator doors were closing, he wanted to bang his head against the wall. The one person he needed to get away from…
“Mind if I tag along?” Tony asked with a bright smile.
“Whatever you want,” Jethro grumbled, biting back the growl of frustration that threatened. He closed his eyes as Tony’s scent hit him. Damn, he missed that smell. Tony’s pillow had long since lost his scent and he missed being surrounded by it. To say he wasn’t sleeping well would be an understatement.
“Thanks!” Tony grinned and bounced on the balls of his feet as he watched the numbers count down.
Jethro pushed out of the elevator as the doors were opening, Tony hot of his heels. The two block walk to the coffee shop was silent and when they got there, Jethro ordered his and Tony’s drinks without thinking. When Tony’s coffee was set in front of him, he turned to hand it to Tony and was stopped by the look of confusion on Tony’s face.
“You ordered just the right thing, Boss,” Tony said as he took the coffee. He was staring at Jethro, making him feel like he was under a microscope.
Jethro shrugged. “I’ve ordered for – the team more than a few times, DiNozzo,” he said as he turned back to the counter. He could feel Tony’s gaze on him but he ignored it.
Tony looked away quickly when Jethro turned around with his own drink.
“Come on. We need to get back.” Jethro walked out, hoping Tony was following – and dreading his company at the same time.
“This feels – familiar,” Tony said quietly a few minutes later and Jethro almost stumbled.
Instead, Jethro grunted. “That so?”
He watched out of the corner of his eye as Tony nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly. “It feels – comfortable, like this is something we did often.”
Jethro snorted softly. “Well, I do like coffee.”
“Jethro.”
This time Jethro did stumble to a stop. He turned to see Tony staring at him from just a few paces away.
“Jethro.” There was wonder in his eyes as Tony looked at him and Jethro felt a familiar heat start to build in his gut.
“That’s my name,” he managed after a moment.
Tony smiled and tilted his head. “Yeah – but why does it feel so normal for me to use it?” He ran a hand through his hair and Jethro nearly melted. “I call you Boss at work – so why would Jethro come so easily to me?” He walked a step closer. “Why does it feel so right in my mouth?”
“You tell me,” Jethro said, his voice like gravel. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull Tony close to him, to bury his hands in that unruly hair and kiss his lover senseless. Instead, he tightened his grip on his coffee cup and tried to quell his need.
Tony reached out and ran a finger across Jethro’s lower lip and Jethro closed his eyes even as he swallowed the groan that tried to creep up his throat.
“Why do I know how soft these lips are?” Tony asked softly. “And why – why do I remember their taste?”
Jethro opened his eyes and looked into Tony’s. They were standing toe to toe now and it wouldn’t take much for Jethro to capture those lips – and oh, how he wanted to. He wanted that and so much more.
And then Tony blinked and took a step back. “Sorry, Boss!” There was panic in his eyes now and Jethro sighed softly.
“Not a problem, Tony. Let’s get back.” And, without another word he turned and walked away, trusting that Tony would follow.
When they got to the squad room, Jethro headed up to the director’s office, taking the stairs two at a time.
**~**~**
He couldn’t take it. Yes, taking the afternoon off and leaving Leon to tell his team had probably been the coward’s way out, but he’d had enough. When Tony had run his finger over his lip that afternoon, it had taken all the strength he possessed not to pull Tony into a crushing embrace and kiss him senseless. He couldn’t go on this way. It was obvious that Tony hadn’t remembered their time together – and it was equally obvious that he might never remember. Today’s little comments aside, Tony was a different man now.
“Mind if I share a beer with you?”
Jethro jumped. “What the –?”
Tony tipped the beer to his lips – Jethro’s beer.
Jethro it back a smile. If Tony needed to talk, he would listen. “Well, since you’re here.” He accepted the unopened beer that Tony held out to him, opened it, and raised the bottle in a toast.
Tony clinked his bottle against Jethro’s and then took a drink. He sighed. “So – I’m craving a steak cooked cowboy style. How about you?”
Jethro choked on his mouthful of beer and he didn’t resist when Tony pulled the bottle from his fingers before patting him on the back.
“Do you need mouth to mouth?” Tony murmured as he leaned in, his breath tickling Jethro’s lips. And then he pressed his lips against Jethro’s and Jethro could no longer hold back. He wrapped his arms around Tony and pulled him closer until they were touching from knees to shoulders – and lips.
Tony broke the kiss, pulling back to look into Jethro’s eyes. “Yeah – that was exactly what I was remembering this afternoon, Jethro. That kiss. The feel of your lips on mine.”
Jethro grinned. “That all, Tony?”
Tony smiled and took hold of Jethro’s hand, pulling him toward the stairs. “Let’s go up to the bedroom and find out just what else I remember, Jethro – and when we’re through, we can talk about moving my stuff back in. I’m lonely in that condo all alone.”
END