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Tony shivered as he strolled up to Gibbs’s front door and was about to knock when he remembered that Gibbs’s door was never locked. Sure enough, when he tried to knob, he found it unlocked and he shouldered the door open. He was met with a wave of warmth and fell into it, the door slamming shut a lot louder than he meant. He winced as a he looked around, ready for Gibbs to emerge from wherever he was in his house to shoot Tony daggers from those stormy blue eyes. When that didn’t happen, Tony grew even more suspicious.
He crept all the way to the kitchen and sat down his large bag of supplies. In there he had soup from the best place he knew close to Gibbs’s house, as well as some orange juice. Tony distinctly remembered his mother giving him some so long ago. It was one of the memories he held most dear. Would it do much for Gibbs? That he wasn’t sure, but some part of him told him he had to try. Whatever was going on with Gibbs was enough for him to call out for work, which is something that Gibbs had never done in the time that Tony had known him. The Director could claim there was nothing going on, but Tony hadn’t believed him for a second.
“Boss,” Tony called into the darkness that engulfed the rest of the house. H leaned forward questioningly as he peered around the corner, mouth hung open as he balanced on one leg to spy down the hallway. There was no signs of movement, no creaking of the old wood floors or even the flash of Gibbs’s familiar sweats.
That left only one place where Gibbs could be. Realistically Tony wished that he had checked there first. He veered around the kitchen and down the hall to the basement door. There he found it slightly ajar, and he wasted no time in forcing the door open and starting down the steps. Each step he took was deliberate, careful not to slip. He had fallen down these stairs once and wasn’t keen on having a repeat. His hand grazed over the wall to keep himself balanced as he continued down the stairs as the sound of sandpaper grazing over the soft surface of the curved side of his boat. His back was facing the stairs and even with Tony being as silent as possible, Gibbs still cleared his throat abruptly and set his sandpaper down besides a glass of whisky to his left.
“I took the day off not to talk about work, DiNozzo.”
Tony swallowed hard as he took the final step down until he was on the same level with Gibbs. “I know, Boss. I shouldn’t be worried about you, but for some reason I am.”
Gibbs stiffly turned around to face Tony to reveal a black eye as well as yellow brushing stretching the length of his opposite jaw. Sure, Tony had seen Gibbs in rough shape plenty of time before, but this was something different. He had no idea where Gibbs had gotten injuries such as that, especially since just the day before he had seen his Boss leave work in relatively high spirits and he had made no mention of heading anywhere after work. Then again, Tony doubted that Gibbs would actually be all that forthcoming with how that happened, but that didn’t stop Tony from opening his mouth to ask.
“D-Did you file a report?”
“No.”
Tony couldn’t help but scoff as Gibbs stepped back into the darkness and hunched over his desk with the only light on his work station. “No? Why not? You didn’t kill them, did you?”
Gibbs slammed his sliding bevel on the desk and turned his head sharply. “No, I didn’t kill them. It was a mugging attempt not an execution.”
“Mugging?” Tony’s mind was practically racing with this new influx of information. None of it made any sense. Gibbs lived in a safe area and routinely left his front door unlocked. Besides, he was an NCIS agent and former Marine. Even at his age he could hold his own in a fight, surely. Was Gibbs really losing his touch that badly?
Gibbs nodded as he took a step toward his boat and ran his open palm around the length. “That is what I just said.”
“No….I mean…..” Tony trailed off in frustration. He was never one to be left speechless, yet here he was, struggling with a simple question. “I guess I’m just not following. Did you at least fight him off?”
“Nope.”
“Then what did—“
“I gave him the money,” Gibbs interrupted. “Then I told him when he’s older he should think about pursing a career in the military.”
“For mugging you?”
“Yes, DiNozzo. Do you have that much trouble following along,” Gibbs began as he lifted his tape measure and spread it out along the length of the boat, chalk pulled from his pocket as he began to make marks.
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. Usually he was the one giving Gibbs the headache, not the other way around. Not he understood why his Boss always had that look on his face when Tony said that there was trouble and that he was apart of it.
“You should at least put something on that like ice or something. Maybe some frozen peas if you have any. That’s why I usually use since I’m unlikely to eat them. I’m more of a meat and potatoes guy myself.”
Gibbs was only half listening, all focus on his boat. It wasn’t that he was purposely ignoring Tony, but more like he had nothing to add to the conversation. He hadn’t wanted anyone to see him that way, which was why he hadn’t come into work. Tony didn’t need to know that he had already tried to deal with the bruises on his face and this was as good as he could get them without using something to cover them. What his senior field agent didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
Taking the hint of silence for what it was, Tony shoved his hands in his pockets and began to walk backwards towards the stairs. “Well, there’s soup upstairs if you want it. I guess I’ll just go then.” Tony averted his gaze, knowing full well Gibbs wouldn’t say anything to stop him. He reluctantly continued forward up the stairs, the sound of footsteps retreating echoing in the small space until Gibbs could faintly hear the sound of his front door closing rather harshly.
He waited almost ten minutes before setting his tools down and brushing his hands on his sweatpants. He grabbed his mason jar of whiskey and took a final swig before setting back up the stairs. Each step was more effort than he anticipated, muscles howling in protest from his left hip to his chest. He had taken a pretty hard fall on the sidewalk when he was attacked, and although he didn’t want to admit it, he wasn’t getting any younger and injuries like this hit him harder than ever before. It would take a little longer than he thought to bounce back from this.
By the time he made it up the stairs and into the kitchen to see what Tony had brought him, he heard a soft pounding on his front door. His head lifted expectantly as he made his way to the door, the sound of low pitched whining growing louder as he drew closer.
“Shhh, Colt! Do you want the whole neighborhood to hear?”
The only response he was given was another whine to match and Gibbs couldn’t help but smile as he opened the door. There he saw in front of him a 19 year old kid standing beside a younger boy that couldn’t have been more than 16. His hair was tussled while he chewed on a silicon pendent that hung around his neck. As soon as the door opened, he shot forward, much to the distain of the older boy.
“Colt,” he hissed as the younger boy immediately set off to sit on the edge of the couch, one leg bent under him as he readjusted the pendent in his mouth and started to rock and flail his opposite hand gleefully.
“Shit! Sorry,” the older boy began, gaze immediately dropping to his shoes.
Gibbs tilted his head just enough to appear on his level. “Would you like to come in too? I have something fresh to eat.”
“I…..” The boy trailed off as he looked back over his shoulder at the sidewalk behind. He frowned and looked like he was doing everything in his power to not immediately turn the other way and run away. It took all of his courage not to leave right then and there.
“Lincoln, don’t make me offer twice. At least let my get something for Colt.”
At the mention of his brother, Lincoln lifted his gaze and finally met Gibbs’s for the first time he arrived. “We don’t need a handout.”
“And I’m not insinuating that you do. It was merely an offer.” Gibbs left the door open as he headed back over to the living room to see Colt staring forward at the blank TV screen. Although he barely watched it and couldn’t explain why he had allowed Tony to talk him into purchasing one for his living room, he was suddenly glad that he did. He reached for the remote and turned on one of the local channels that had children’s programming. Kelly had enjoyed it when she was young and although Colt was quite a bit older, he seemed engaged with the characters on screen and slowly began to stop rocking while the pendent fell from his mouth and hung loose from the twine that held it around his neck.
It didn’t take long for the front door to close and Lincoln to force himself forward. His hands were shoved into the front pocket of his jeans that were about three sizes too big for him, the baggy sweatshirt clearly not the right size either. It made him appear even smaller, sleeves of his sweatshirt pulled over his hands. There were holes along the side, the hood nearly completely torn free. His jeans were a few inches too short with deep cuts that had been patched as best as possible by someone who was clearly not used to sewing. The boy wandered forward and peeked his head around the corner, intrigue lighting up his eyes as he saw the takeout on the counter. The smell alone was enough to set his mouth watering.
Gibbs didn’t hesitate to grab two bowls and begin to pour the soup into their respective bowls. He added a few pieces of bread and crackers that had come with it, prepared to make something else if the two boys gobbled down this meal without problem. Judging by the way that the two looked, how skinny they both appeared, Gibbs was prepared to make anything if it meant that they were full for the first time in a while.
Lincoln stopped beside Colt and rubbed at his shoulders. “C’mon. You gotta be hungry.”
Colt rose to his feet and let out an excited squeal, arms folded in on themselves in a way that Gibbs wasn’t even sure was possible. Lincoln urged him forward and into the kitchen, pulled out a chair, and waited for Colt to sit down. He made a grab for one of the bowls, but Lincoln halted him with a firm look.
“Wait,” Lincoln hissed. “What do we do first?”
Colt coiled his arms once again and lifted the back of his hand up to his mouth and began to shout in low grunts. It wasn’t overly loud, but Lincoln still shot his little brother a knowing look. “Colt, we’re not at home.”
While Gibbs wasn’t entirely sure what Colt was doing and whether or not Colt was distressed or not, he didn’t mind the sound. He didn’t dare ask as it seemed like Lincoln understood his brother more than Gibbs could’ve even thought possible for someone who didn’t speak.
Lincoln looked up to Gibbs almost expectantly. “Sometimes he does that when he’s hungry.”
“Well, we shouldn’t have him wait, now should we?”
Colt took that as an answer to plunge his spoon into the soup and began to shovel it into his mouth. Gibbs feared he may choke at the rate he was going, but Lincoln beat him to it and rested a hand on Colt’s elbow. Colt instinctively began to eat slower, though part of what he ate ended up trickling down his chin as his hand shook when he lifted it to his mouth.
While Colt ate, Lincoln hardly touched his bowl. Gibbs glanced at him expectantly and motioned to his own bowl with a nod. “There’s plenty to eat. You should have something too.”
Lincoln shook his head stubbornly. “I’ll wait in case Colt wants more. I have some money to buy some stuff later if I need to,” he announced firmly with his arms crossed on the table.
“I’d rather you use that money on something else.”
Lincoln winced and went to reach into his pocket.
“No, no,” Gibbs interrupted as he pulled up a chair across from Lincoln and sat down heavily. “You gave a mean right hook for that. I’m not about to take it back.”
A timid smirk appeared on Lincoln’s face, quick to disappear when he recalled what had happened. “Thanks for not calling the cops. I really did think you were just some old guy.”
Gibbs felt a small pulse of pain through his face to remind him of the black eye he was now sporting. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he couldn’t help but shrug. “Didn’t think there was a need to bring anyone else into this.” Silence stretched on for a moment until Gibbs dare to disturb the waters. “You know, I could use someone to help me gut the bathroom upstairs. I’d be willing to pay.”
Lincoln looked up expectantly. “I-I don’t think I’d be good at that. Besides I don’t have anyone to watch Colt.” His gaze trailed back to his brother, who was still shoveling spoonfuls into his mouth as though this was the first time he had seen any type of food in years. His free left hand was lifted high in the air as he ate, fingers wriggling excitedly.
“He could stay here with you,” Gibbs offered. “Between the two of us I’m sure we can keep him occupied.”
“Why are you doing this, man,” Lincoln asked sharply, distrust clear in his green eyes. “I don’t need a grandfather or anything. I’ve been looking after Colt since he was born! I don’t need some kind of fucking handout.”
Gibbs hardly reacted to the sudden burst of rage coming from the young man. It was something that he recognized well, and although he had never had a sibling that relied on him quite like Colt did with Lincoln, he could detect the pain in Lincoln’s voice that told him all he needed to know. In all honestly he had been ready to take Lincoln down to the nearest police station when he had attacked him the other night, yet after pulling a file on him and remembering what he had heard from the town scuttlebutt at the nearby pharmacy, he knew he couldn’t. The two had been through enough and inciting a potential investigation and arrest would overturn two lives instead of one.
“And I’m not looking to give you one. I’m just offering a chance for you to make some money in a different way,” Gibbs explained. “It’s hard work, but it might just be worth it.”
Before Lincoln could answer, his stomach gave a massive growl. His arms came down to wrap around his stomach as he faced Gibbs with round eyes. He couldn’t look up, and he didn’t have to as Gibbs pushed the soup closer to him expectantly. It took a few moments before Lincoln finally relented and took a few timid bites as Colt continued to eat noisily. Somehow the noise was familiar despite it being a while and although neither Colt nor Lincoln were Kelly, they did remind him of her in their own unique ways.
“At least thing about it.”
Lincoln nodded between bites of soup. “I will. Thanks.”
Gibbs dipped his head. Tony may not understand why he had done this, and Gibbs honestly wasn’t sure either, but maybe this could be good for all of them.