Title: Post Traumatic Stress

Author: BuffyAngel68

Rating: FRM for the most part. Bad words, slight D/s, slashy touching and some kinky item use. A little shouting too, but all in a good cause

Fandom - Pairings: NCIS/JAG X-over Chegwidden/Webb/DiNozzo/Gibbs

Summary: In the weeks between Ari's infiltration of NCIS and the days when he was revealed to be on the side of the angels, Jethro is becoming more and more angry, obsessed and guilt ridden. A friend and mentor calls to offer desperately needed relief, but, knowing the cure will be far more difficult to endure than the disease, Gibbs is reluctant to accept...

"Gibbs. Gibbs? Boss!"

"What *is* it, Agent Todd?" the man in question snapped suddenly, whirling in his chair to face the owner of the persistent voice.

"Okay... at ease, Gibbs. It's just Kate. Remember me? Bright, charming... unarmed?"

"You better not be unarmed. I see you without your weapon on you..."

"I know, Boss, I know. It's right here in the holster." She replied, showing him.

"Good. Now what was it you wanted?"

"I just wondered if you wanted us to pick you up something for lunch." Kate replied, her tone softening a little as she continued to speak. "Or maybe since you've been staring at your monitor for two hours straight, you might like to come out with McGee and Abby and I... consume something that never lived in a vending machine?"

Gibbs smiled thinly, finally looked down and rubbed his aching eyes.

"I'm good. You go."

"Boss... the visual match won't get made any faster because you're sitting here waiting for it to happen." She told him, cautiously watching his reaction. "You need a break..."

"No, Kate. Right now... I need to do this."

"Gibbs..."

"Bring me back a couple hot dogs with everything. And one of those drinks Abs is so addicted to."

"I'm not being accused of poisoning my employer. Mountain Dew?"

"That'll work. And a two-liter of Jolt if you can find it."

"Do my best." Kate promised as she rose and grabbed her purse. "See you in an hour, Boss."

"Okay."

Not long after Kate departed, Gibbs went back to staring at his computer, watching the faces flick by so fast he got no sense of features or detail. He didn't care. When the moment arrived that he was praying for, the images would still and the face he now knew almost as well as his own would be joined by a paragraph to read and memorize. The information would lead to him to his target, a man who, in Gibbs' mind at least, urgently needed to be repaid for the grief and chaos he'd caused.

A few minutes into his renewed vigil, his cell phone rang, but he ignored it, making an effort to stay focused on his task. It soon stopped, but rang again. He ignored it and again, it silenced itself. The third time he pulled the phone and shut it off, throwing it on the desk. A moment later, his desk phone rang. He grumbled, but decided that if someone was trying this hard it had to be important and he finally answered.

"If we're *not* being invaded or the world *isn't* ending, your ass is mine..."

"Funny, it's usually the other way around. Afternoon, Jethro."

The deep, resonant voice of Admiral A.J. Chegwidden stunned Gibbs. He sat up straight, his eyes leaving the screen and switching to a middle distance gaze.

"Sir. Sorry about that..."

"Forget it. I know what kind of strain you're under at the moment. And I thought you knew my name."

"I do, s... A.J. Look... was there something you needed? Once the rest of my team gets back from lunch I can run over to Falls Church and..."

"I'm fine, and before you ask JAG is fine and every member of my staff is fine. I didn't call about my needs, Jethro."

Gibbs stiffened, frowned and dropped his eyes to his free hand, which was fidgeting with a pen on the desk.

"Of course not..." he replied with only the slightest trace of acid in his tone. "I'm dealing with it as well as can be expected, A.J. No reason to worry..."

"I say there is. I got a call from a friend of yours. I believe he's the medical examiner down there..."

"Ducky..." Gibbs murmured under his breath. "I'll kill that undersized, interfering..."

"Don't go there, Jethro. He was trying to help. Said you're not eating or sleeping and any time you don't absolutely have to be in the field or researching another case, you're staring at facial recognition software. You're losing perspective... and he's afraid you'll lose a lot more than that if this search of yours doesn't resolve soon."

"Ducky is underestimating me. He does that a lot."

"Do I?"

"Never."

"I'll meet you at the house tonight. Seven sharp. Bring the young man with you."

Gibbs' fingers stilled, as did the pen, and his pupils dilated.

"No. Not in a million years."

"You love him." A.J stated simply.

"You know I do, that's why he can't know about... the house."

"I can't always be around, Jethro. Clay is even more unavailable lately. For once we're both in town tonight. It's time to teach someone else how to be your lifeguard."

"A.J..."

"Seven tonight. Don't come without him, Jethro. Correction is your least favorite part of the time we spend together."

"I hate it."

"Then do as you've been asked. If he knows you as well as you seem to think, he'll understand."

"Seven. I... we'll be there."

"Good. See you both tonight."

5:30

"DiNozzo!"

"Yeah, boss?"

"You have any plans tonight?"

Tony groaned inwardly and closed his eyes. He knew that Gibbs' question wasn't really a question. It was a way of telling the younger man that even if he had a prior engagement, he now had a different one.

"Not anymore?"

"Good. Meet me at seven at this address. I need your help on something." He replied, handing DiNozzo a folded slip of paper.

"I hope this doesn't involve hammering nails, because I don't feel like an emergency room visit or a tetanus shot tonight."

Gibbs laughed.

"None of the above. Just be there on time."

"Dress?"

"Casual, but try and stay on the decent side of indigent and alcoholic."

"I don't *own* anything in that category."

Gibbs stared at him.

"Two weeks ago. Sunday afternoon football. Your couch."

Tony blushed.

"They weren't that bad."

"When my sweats get worn out where *yours* were worn out, I toss 'em in the trash."

"Noone was gonna see me but you!"

"And I saw way more than I should have, DiNozzo."

Tony gaped in shock, then tossed Gibbs a frantic, uncertain smile

"Whoa... Boss, you didn't... I mean you couldn't have..."

"Go home, eat a light meal, clean up and change. I'll see you at seven. And DiNozzo... that address doesn't leave your possession in any way, shape or form. That includes verbal, written or electronic. Got me?"

"Absolutely. Boss... can I say something?'

"Go ahead."

{God... okay, here I go, asking to get my head handed to me...} Tony thought grimly before finally speaking up.

"I know you're the big dog, and after what happened, I can understand you feeling like you need to be here more... protect the puppies and all, but..."

Gibbs response was quiet and held an almost sad tinge, which was not at all what Tony expected.

"I'll go home in a while."

"Gibbs..."

"I know, Tony. Thanks."

"Yeah. Anytime."

7:00

"Tony."

"Gibbs. Nice place." Tony offered admiringly as he got out of his car. "What are we doing here?"

"I told you, I need your help." Jethro replied, moving up the walk. Tony, knowing he would get no more information until the other man thought he needed it, grinned, locked his vehicle and followed. He arrived to find Gibbs had already rung the bell. A few seconds later, a tall, older man in a dark suit opened the door to them, smiling invitingly at Jethro.

"Welcome back, sir. Good to see you again. The others are waiting for you in suite five."

Gibbs winced slightly, turning his head away, but it wasn't in time. Tony caught the expression and was suddenly uneasy.

"Boss..."

"Don't call me that. Not here."

"What? I don't understand..."

"You will. For now you'll have to trust me. Stay quiet until we get where we're going and you'll stay safe."

"Safe? Gibbs, what have you gotten me into..."

Jethro grabbed Tony's hand and squeezed hard, almost, but not quite to the point of causing pain. The younger man hissed, but comprehended the message. Gibbs turned back to their greeter.

"Steven, this is Anthony. He won't be on the list, but..."

"No problem. I had a good description, but no name." He said, opening a small black folder he carried. "Which list will he be on in future?"

"Plan 4."

The man made a brief note and closed the book again.

"Very well. All taken care of, sir. You can both go on back."

"Thanks, Steven."

"Always a pleasure, sir."

As they walked, Gibbs could sense the anxiety and confusion radiating from DiNozzo, not only about what was going on, but as to why the older man had not yet released his hand. He decided to respond to the easiest question.

"It's a sign that you're under my protection. It says that anyone who feels like messing with you will have to go through me. They won't do that."

"And you know this... how?"

"Experience."

"Yours or theirs?"

"Both, now stop talking."

A few steps further on, a door along the corridor opened and a tall, heavily muscled blond man stepped out, adjusting a long leather coat and tugging his mid-back length hair out from under the collar. Seeing the pair he grinned and spoke, his voice deep and smooth, bearing hints of the physical power he knew he possessed.

"Jethro. It's been a while."

Gibbs tensed, but he paused and threw the stranger a tight smile, interlacing his fingers with Tony's.

"Mikhail. I thought you'd given up this place as pass ."

"I come back every so often just to visit old friends... you know, have a drink and a chuckle over something disgusting we did too many years ago. Who's the M.A.?"

"He's not on the dessert menu." Gibbs replied warningly, making sure their linked hands could be clearly seen.

"Point taken. Well, I hope I see you again when we have time to sit and talk, Jethro. I've made new memories you haven't heard about yet."

This time Gibbs' smile held warmth.

"I can't wait. Your stories are always worth an evening and a bottle of good Irish whiskey."

"That they are. I'd say have fun, but your eyes tell me it's not that kind of night."

"No."

The other man's expression became concerned.

"It so rarely is with you. Pity."

"We all have our own reasons for being here."

"Yes, I know all too well. Don't let it go too far this time. When you're in "Forgive Me, Father" mode, you tend to let things get out of control..."

"I'm in good hands."

This got an eyebrow arch from the blond and a return of the soft smile.

"Those two, hmm? I'll stop worrying, then. Night, Jethro."

"Drive safe, Mikhail."

As they walked away, Gibbs knew the amount of questions swirling in Tony's head had just quadrupled, but, to his credit, the young man kept quiet. He resolved to find a way to reward him for his patience.

A few minutes later, they stopped outside a door with a small gold number 5 on it and Gibbs gently knocked. It was opened almost immediately and Tony got his biggest shock of the night. He staggered mentally, but managed to keep his incredulous exclamations to one, nearly inaudible word.

"Admiral?"