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Protect and love
by Ceindreadh
Anthony DiNozzo had always felt that there were two types of people in the world.
There were the people you protected, and the people you protected them from. The dirtbags that preyed upon the unwary, the ones with no respect for their fellow men and women. And there were the innocents. The ones who deserved to walk in the world, oblivious to its dangers and perils.
And then there were people like him. The thin blue line that stood between the forces of good and evil.
"Doesn't that make, *three* types of people, DiNozzo?" Kate had pointed out; way back when he'd been trying to explain why he'd gone into law enforcement in the first place. Tony hadn't pushed the issue, knowing that Kate had already made up her own mind about his motivations, and wasn't really interested in anything he might have to say to change it. She had stood on the line with him, but frequently seemed to have trouble deciding who belonged on which side of the line.
But the line was something that Tony had always believed in. The innocent behind him, the guilty in front, and his duty to make sure that nobody crossed.
Tony glanced over at his dozing passenger as he drove. NCIS or not, many of his co-workers he felt belonged behind his line. Whether they could take care of themselves or not, he still felt the weight of his responsibility towards them. Maybe not so much as when he had been leading the team, and fun and all as that little hiatus had been, Tony had breathed a not so secret sigh of relief when Gibbs had stepped back up to patrol the line with him.
Of course Ziva had been there all along, but there were days when Tony didn't know which side of the line she was playing, or if she was even aware that there was a line at all.
As for McGee, some says Tony was proud to stand on the line with him. Other days he wanted him so far back behind the line that it wasn't funny. Sooner or later the day would come when McGee stood at the line on his own, but until then, Tony would make damn sure he knew how to handle himself when he got there.
But every now and then, a person would step up to the line and throw all of Tony's preconceptions out of whack. His passenger being a case in point. Who would have thought that the Autopsy Gremlin would have had it in him to take on a dirtbag all on his lonesome? Okay, he'd had a couple of thousand pounds of metal on his side, but still it had been pretty damned impressive.
Almost as impressive standing up for himself against a frightendly furious Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Tony had been close enough to overhear most of their conversation, and had been highly impressed. Even if it had probably been the concussion loosening Palmer's tongue.
And speaking of concussions, Tony glanced over at his passenger again. "Hey Palmer! Drool any more on my seat covers and you're walking the rest of the way home!"
Beside him, Jimmy jerked upright against the seat belt, hand going automatically to his mouth. He looked at Tony indignantly. "I was *not* drooling!"
"Sure you weren't, Palmer," said Tony, grinning, "What's my name?"
"What?" said Jimmy. He'd taken off his glasses again once the airbag bruising to his face had started to swell, and now he looked confused and lost without them.
"What - is - my - name?" asked Tony, carefully. "Have to check you're not losing any brain cells from a concussion. Cause driving like a maniac the way you did, you must have been down a few to start with. So what's my name?"
"The doctor said I didn't *have* a concussion, 'very special agent Anthony DiNozzo'," said Jimmy. "Just bruising from the airbag." He rubbed his forehead, wincing with pain.
"Head still aching?" asked Tony, not unsympathetically. In answer to Jimmy's quick nod, he said, "Wuss! You want a *real* headache, wait until Gibbs swats you a few times. Heck, if you hadn't been so out of it in the car, he'd have probably laid one on you right then!"
"You think so?" asked Jimmy. It was hard to tell whether he sounded more relieved or disappointed.
"Oh yeah," said Tony. "I don't think I've ever seen him so freaked out. You had him worried, Jimmy. You had *all* of us worried. And let me tell you, you put yourself in danger like that again, and Gibbs will have to get in line to yell at you. You hear?"
"Yeah," said Jimmy, staring at his feet.
Tony reached one hand off of the steering wheel and squeezed Jimmy's hand. "Hey, lighten up there. You did good, don't you forget it. But I'm the one who takes out the bad guys, it's my job to protect *you*." He cleared his throat and put his hand back on the wheel. "And maybe if I'd done a better job at the start, made sure the crime scene had been properly cleared and secured, then that dirtbag would never have taken a pot shot at you, and this whole mess would never have happened. I'm sorry Jimmy. You could have been killed at the crime scene and it would have been my fault." His hands clenched on the wheel.
"Stop it Tony," said Jimmy. "This wasn't your fault. I'm the one who should have called you guys when I realized somebody was there. I'm the one who chased after him. I'm the one who followed you today. Nobody made me do it. And if I'd gotten killed," he swallowed hard, "It would have been my own stupid fault."
"You think that would have made me feel any better standing at your graveside?" said Tony, so softly that Jimmy could barely hear him.
"No," said Jimmy, equally softly. "But it didn't happen." He looked up sharply as the car came to a sudden halt. There was a click of a belt buckle as Tony leaned over and took Jimmy's face in his hands.
"Don't you ever, *ever* scare me like that again," said Tony, his voice low and urgent. "I mean it Jimmy. I don't ever want you putting yourself in danger like that. I will always protect you."
Jimmy put his hands over Tony's and said, "But who protects you? You're the one standing on the line and making sure that people like me can sleep soundly at night. Who lets you sleep?"
"Do you even have to ask?" Tony leaned in and kissed Jimmy on the lips, gently at first and then with increasing fervor as the seconds passed. Finally he pulled away, letting his forehead rest against Jimmy's for a few seconds, reveling in the comfort engendered by even this simple contact with a man he cared for so much it often scared him.
"Tony?" Jimmy's voice brought Tony back to the present. "Tony, we should get moving."
"Yeah," said Tony, brushing his lips against Jimmy's one more time before pulling away and refastening his seat belt. "I promised the doc I'd make sure you had an early night."
"And I phoned Doctor Mallard, and he said I shouldn't come in too early tomorrow morning," said Jimmy, his hand deliberately brushing Tony's leg.
"I don't know, Palmer," grinned Tony, a sign that the serious side of their relationship was being put away for another time. "Four years you've been working with the guy, you'd think you could call him Ducky every once in a while!"
"You know, you're right," said Jimmy. "We're both professionals, it's time we were on first name terms. I'm going to start calling him Ducky..."
"Atta boy, Palmer!"
"The very same day you start calling Agent Gibbs, Jethro!"
The end