Chapter 9

Jen must have understood how shocking his admission was, what it had done for him. She drifted off and left him to his thoughts but there wasn't time, he didn't have the luxury of puzzling this out. Not yet. Maybe in the dead of night he'd have the quiet he needed to figure out why he said yes. And what that meant.

So many things had changed for him and Gibbs had no idea who he was any more. And after reaching his forties, that wasn't a comfortable place for him to be. But this wasn't about him and he had to keep focus.

He ducked into the lounge and sat in a chair closest to the window. He was fairly certain he'd get the elder DiNozzo's voicemail again but he wasn't going to give up. Tony needed all the support he could get and Gibbs needed to know where Tony's father stood, if he could rely on the man to do anything.

He dialed the first number—the home number—and waited for an answer, mentally composing his voicemail reply.

"Hello?" A man's voice, not too young from the timbre, came over the speaker.

Gibbs swallowed reflexively, making sure his composure was firmly in hand. "Dante DiNozzo." He said it as a statement rather than a question.

"Yeah," the other man replied slowly.

"Jethro Gibbs," he said by way of an introduction. He pulled in a deep breath and then plunged onward. "Tony needs you."

"You are who to Tony?" Dante asked and Gibbs tried to read the tone of voice. He didn't hear any arrogance or anger—yet. A little confusion, maybe some suspicion, which was natural.

"His boss."

"Mmm," the other man said. There was a pause and then he spoke again. "My replacement."

Gibbs blinked a few times. "What do you mean, Dante?" He chose to use the man's first name, hoping to establish a rapport.

"You're Tony's father figure. He stopped trying so hard with me about the time he started at NCIS. Seven and a half years ago. Before then he tried so hard to get what he deserved from me." Was there a hint of regret in the other man's voice?

Gibbs wasn't sure what to think. He'd expected anger and aggression, not this man who seemed calm and reasoned. "Well, Dante, a man can only handle so much rejection. Sounds like you didn't give Tony what he needed." He tried to keep his voice neutral even though he knew these were words that would probably change the tone of the conversation. "So I became a friend and advisor of sorts. He's a good man and a damn fine agent. But I never wanted to replace you."

Instead of the expected explosion, Dante sighed. "No, I didn't," he said simply. "But a lot has changed and maybe some day I can." He took a deep breath and Gibbs could almost swear he heard a slight shudder. "Before it's too late. You have Tony in the line of fire a lot, Jethro. Why are you calling me? He hurt?"

There was genuine care and worry now and Jethro let out a breath of air he wasn't aware he'd been holding. Whatever had driven father and son apart wasn't just sheer negligence or disinterest and there was hope for Tony's relationship with his father, if he chose to pursue one. Gibbs weighed what to say for a few moments, what to share, how brutal he should be. All the while, a mental image of his own father danced through his mind.

"Yeah, Dante. He's badly injured, was severely beaten. The perpetrators are still at large and our agency is investigating."

Dante sucked in a sharp breath and muttered a few choice words. "Where do you have him? Bethesda?"

"No, he's in Richmond." Gibbs rattled off the details.

"Soon as I can get things organized here, I'll be there, Jethro. Don't tell him I'm coming. Even if he doesn't want to see me, I want to be there. And you watch over him. You make sure nobody else hurts him, you understand me?" As Dante spoke, the anguish in his voice became more and more apparent. "Don't let anyone else hurt him."

Gibbs made that promise and said a quiet goodbye, disconnecting the call. What the hell had just happened? That had been a man who sounded like he cared, the news nearly bringing him to tears. "What other secrets have you been keeping from us, Tony?" he muttered.

He sat in the lounge for maybe ten minutes, completely lost in thought, toying with his phone, visiting his own past hurts. He finally dialed a number he'd tried to forget many times but could never completely push out of his mind. It wasn't lost on him that this was a journey of his own self-discovery, one he had never intended to take, but now that it was here, it was one he would not deny.