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Previous part of Help, I Need Somebody.

***

"Okay." Lewiston began as he settled back into his usual seat. "We're all in our places with bright shiny faces... let's get going."

Tony snorted a quiet laugh.

"God, don't make me think about school. Anything but that."

"I think we need to, don't you? That's the most likely place for you to have learned the survival technique you talked about."

"I thought we were gonna talk about work."

"We will. Later. Right now, I'm interested in hearing what forced you to figure out how to split off and shut down whole sections of your personality."

Tony grimaced.

"God, you make me sound like a-a... psychopath. It's not like that..."

"You aren't mentally ill, Tony. I never said that. What you described is a coping strategy. Abused kids typically develop one or more just to get them through day to day life."

Lewiston could see the instant denial rise and then die in Tony, all within seconds.

"I... I'm trying to get that. I am. I know abuse doesn't have to mean being beaten bloody 24/7... I just never put myself in that category. I assumed most kids my age had to go through what I did. I thought it was normal... like most abused kids do. Shit... I've done the research. How did I miss that huge red flag for so long?"

"From what you've told me the material you sought out concerned the abusers, not the victims. Besides, you couldn't afford to dig too deeply into your past while you were out in the world. Get introspective while someone else's life is on the line and they could lose it in the time it takes you to turn around. In here... it's safe and acceptable to focus only on yourself."

"Yeah, but easy... not by a long shot."

"I never promised easy. So talk to me about those first few months on your own at school. Is it the emotional aspect that really stands out, or something else?"

"I don't know... I think I was trying not to feel. Not to show it, anyway. Kept me from getting slapped down ten times a day... by the other boys and the teachers. Inside... I was lonely, terrified, and angry. A week into classes I realized the stress was way more intense when you didn't have somewhere else to go at night where you could decompress... somewhere you didn't have to think about school. I knew I was smart... but suddenly I was struggling just to stay level with all the other kids. Maybe... maybe that is where it started after all. When I was studying I had to shut out everything around me and put every ounce of focus on the work... so I was sure the material would sink in and stay in my head. I put so much effort into that... that when I got on the field to compete, all I wanted to do was forget formulas and equations and Custer's Last Stand ever existed. I dropped conscious thought, opened up to instinct and my physical side... and just played. Is that like... classic? I mean, have you heard of any other cases where someone taught themselves to do that?"

"I'm not sure there really is such a thing as a "classic" survival strategy. Many people develop similar methods, yes, but each child puts their own spin on it based on the situation and how severe the abuse was."

"Could... could what I've been doing... turn into a serious personality disorder? I mean, if I don't fix this could I end up with MPD?"

"I haven't seen a single sign of you being likely to degenerate that way. You're far too self-aware for that. There have been very few genuine, verifiable cases of MPD and the ones I know of came about after years and years of suffering sadistic torture, violence and sexual abuse. Unless there's something you haven't told me about..."

"No! God, no..."

"Okay then. Let's not even go there. I'm not trying to downplay what you went through. Abuse is abuse, whether it's your body or your self-esteem that was kicked across the room night after night."

"But doing that... splitting myself apart that way. That's not good, right?"

"Actually, it is. Instead of collapsing and giving up when you were forced out of your home, you found a way to stay on your feet and keep moving forward. That's a sign of innate strength and courage. You're a survivor if I ever saw one, Tony, and surviving is never a bad thing."

Long minutes passed while Tony processed and sorted through the information he had been given and the myriad emotions switching on and off inside him. When he looked up, his eyes were wide and realization shone from them, but deep fear lurked in the background and Lewiston sat forward slightly, ready for anything.

"No... maybe it was like that... but it's turned into something else. Something nasty..."

"What are you thinking about, Tony?"

"The hotel. You called it a... a rage-blackout... but I just compared the two and it felt the same. When I had to go from books to sports it was like... there was a switch. Flip it and one side goes dark while the other lights up. In the hotel room I felt the same change happening... at least I think I did. Why did I end up with only darkness?"

"Powerful emotion could've made the difference. Going from everyday intellectual challenges to physical ones wouldn't tend to carry a lot of strong feeling with it. In that hotel you were scared, angry and intensely worried, both for your partner and for yourself. Then again it could have just been your mind protecting you from what you were about to do. You did say you beat that suspect pretty badly. Acknowledging that you have that capacity, that you can get so angry and just lose control... it isn't something that would be easy for a long-time law enforcement professional to accept about himself."

"If it hadn't been for..."

"What? Don't censor yourself, Tony. If it hadn't been for what?"

"Who. I knew they'd kill Ziva without even thinking about it. I couldn't let it happen..."

"Like Kate."

"That loss... the failure is always with me. I never had much chance to step back, take time and grieve the way I should have. Maybe what I did to that guy in the hotel... maybe part of it was grieving for her... and making up for the worst mistake I've ever made."

"Who told you that you failed?"

"They'd never say it straight out... but they all know. I see it in Gibbs' eyes sometimes when he looks at her desk... what used to be her desk. Still should be..."

Lewiston shifted from his chair to Tony's side.

"Tony, no. I can almost guarantee that what you're seeing has nothing to do with you. It's a hard truth to hear, but when a tragedy like Kate's murder happens, the people closest to the victim can get pretty self-centered. They don't see it that way, of course. They're in excruciating pain and it's hard to look past that. What they're doing, though..." he said, dropping a hand on the younger man's shoulder, "... is blaming themselves for everything they didn't do to prevent the person from dying and they're certain everyone else holds them responsible, too. Gibbs thinks he should have saved Kate, Abby thinks it's her fault... but what none of you can understand yet is that nobody is to blame except the one who pulled the trigger."

"That... that's what shreds marriages when a child dies, right? Both parents are hurting so bad they can't spare anything for the other person... and they end up hating each other."

"That's not always the case, but more often than not... yes."

"After he threw me out... he wouldn't let my mother call... or send letters. I was persona-non-grata as far as he was concerned. That lasted until I was 16. Suddenly he wants me to take a trip with the two of them. God knows why... but I went. I think I understand his reasoning now. He must have been starting to lose her somehow... emotionally, mentally. With his social and business position, he couldn't let that happen. For one thing, in his circles, a loyal wife on your arm is essential and for another... if he'd let her divorce him or even just separate from him, he ran the risk of all the mud and blood spilling out his front door for the world to gawk at."

"So he tried to draw you back in."

"And as soon as he felt like he had her back under control, he forgot I existed again. To the extent that he took her home and left me in the hotel. He only sent me plane fare back to school when he got the room service bill. I wish... I wish it had hurt more... but I just took in stride. It sucks that I was able to do that. I just accepted that he was an ass who didn't give a damn about me unless I could get him something he wanted. I should've been pissed... I had every right to be."

"That's something else that can happen to abused kids. They learn the meaning of 'jaded' much too early in life. Nobody ever seems to think about their needs and wants, so they stop asking and expecting."

Tony chuckled brokenly.

"And they start making masks."

"Aren't connections wonderful things? Tell you what... I think it's past time for lunch and we both need a break. I'll go get trays for both of us and be right back. We'll eat, catch our breath..."

"Yeah... sounds good about now."

"Okay. Hang in. I won't be long."

As he left, Lewiston winced slightly, feeling guilty. He fully intended to go back and eat with Tony, but he also knew he had a vital call to make, so his first destination was his office and the phone.

"NCIS."

"Agent Gibbs. I'm so glad I caught you."

"I just got back to the office. You don't sound happy."

"Believe me, I'm not. What was Director Shepard doing here this morning?"

Gibbs straightened abruptly and his expression darkened.

"What?"

"She had a psychiatrist in tow and insisted I let the man assess Tony."

"And you said..."

"I'm surprised you even have to ask."

"Right."

"When he realized she knew where he was... let's just say his reaction was justifiably extreme."

"Is he alright?"

"I calmed him down eventually. He's fine now. This can't happen again, Jethro. He's doing so well right now and anything that pulls his focus away from the issues he's working on..."

"I understand. I'll take care of it."

"Thank you."

"No problem. Whatever he needs, you call. Day or night."

"Hopefully I won't have to. I need to get back to him. Take care."

"You too."

Gibbs hung up the phone slowly and carefully and sat looking down at the device for several minutes, working to calm himself and thinking deeply about whether his plans now needed to be accelerated. Watching McGee and Ziva enter and re-settle at their desks, he pushed his anger down even further, drawing deep breaths and gradually releasing them. He knew from long experience that letting emotion talk you into charging ahead only ruined plans and destroyed lives. He would soon be having a talk with his former lover, but the topic would be nothing she was expecting.

***

As he moved slowly up the stairs to the level where the Director and MTAC resided, Gibbs considered and rejected a few different ideas as to how he should handle what Sheppard had done. He had no doubt that the ill considered idea hadn't been her own, but that didn't mitigate his anger in the slightest. Still, he knew what his best course of action was and he resolved to follow it, despite the knowledge that he would likely be disgusted with himself for days, or perhaps weeks, afterward.

He had to keep her off balance in order to keep her from looking too closely at what he was doing and keep both her and Ziva out of his way until it was too late for either one to prevent their own destruction. That meant confusing Sheppard even further by showing her a Jethro Gibbs she hadn't seen in a very long time. Instead of fury, threats and possibly violence, Jen was about to receive the surprise of her life. The deception would cost Jethro some self-respect, and probably a sour stomach later that night from repressing his true feelings, but the sacrifice was one he was more than willing to make.

Walking stiffly into the outer office, he gave Cynthia a surprise as well by calmly waiting for her to announce him. He smiled thinly and responded to her raised eyebrow.

"I'm not sick. Just go on..."

"Director... Agent Gibbs is here to see you."

The reply that came a moment later was clearly tense and concerned, despite the tinny quality of the intercom speaker.

"Send him in."

"Already on his way." The young woman replied as Gibbs opened the door, stepped into Sheppard's inner sanctum and quietly shut it again behind him. He studied Jen behind her desk for a long moment then moved to a nearby bookcase and ran one hand lightly over the volumes. He stayed silent and deliberately slumped his shoulders, projecting sorrow and confusion. Eventually, his ruse had its intended effect and Jen spoke first.

"Agent Gibbs?"

"Why would you do that?" he asked softly, finally turning to look at her. "I don't want to believe Tony could have done something to make you hate him that much, but if he did I need to know."

"Hate... I don't hate Tony. I was trying to help him... to make sure his position at NCIS will be here waiting when he returns. That won't happen without an evaluation by someone answerable only to the people above both of us."

"That means you've been in contact with SecNav." Jethro asked, now genuinely concerned.

"Not yet... but I'll have to eventually. I swore the staff psychologist to silence for the moment, but I can't keep it that way much longer."

Gibbs released a real sigh of relief, ignored the detour his plans had almost been forced into and moved close to Sheppard's desk, laying a hand over hers.

"Thank you, Dir... no, thank you, Jenny. You have to understand, Tony's kind of on a ledge right now. You showing up like that today... it nearly sent him into freefall. His doctor had to fight to pull him out of it."

Her mouth hanging open slightly, Jen gazed down at their hands then back up at Jethro. He pulled back suddenly, laughing darkly in his head at the hope he saw briefly shining in her gaze. His expression, however, showed only regret and a faint reflection of her own jumbled emotions. "Sorry."

"No... no, it's alright. I didn't realize how fragile Tony was. As I said, my intention wasn't to cause any further damage. I was doing what I thought I had to... I'm sorry."

"I appreciate that."

"As for keeping this secret, I can give you a few more days, but that's all. I have superiors too..."

"I know. I'm grateful for whatever time you can buy me."

After a few seconds of staring deeply into her eyes, Gibbs leaned in, barely touched his lips to her cheek and whispered in her ear. "Thanks again."

As he rose and moved back out of the office, Jen watched him go with an expression that was composed of both shock and cautious joy.

Gibbs moved at a moderate pace back down to the bullpen, struggling not to run to his next destination; the bathroom. Washing his hands, McGee surreptitiously observed his boss swishing and spitting out two paper cups of water and starting on a third and felt he had to speak up.

"Boss? You get a bad coffee?"

"Bad something..." Gibbs replied, finally crumpling and tossing the cup. "You make progress on that cold case you were looking at?"

"Actually... I did. There are a-a couple of things I spotted that may have been overlooked before. If I could just have a little more time..."

"Take all you need. Just remember what we agreed to..."

"If we get called out I put it aside and focus on the new case. You can depend on me, Boss. You can trust me..."

Gibbs turned from drying his hands, disposed of the paper towel and responded, slapping the young man lightly on the back.

"If I didn't, you wouldn't still be here, Tim. Now let's get back to work."

"Right behind you, Boss."

-----------------------------

BETHESDA:

Once a nurse had cleared away their lunch trays, Lewiston spent a few minutes silently watching Tony, trying to gauge how much stamina he had left. Finally, Tony grinned wearily and gently called him out.

"Why don't you just say it?"

"Because I assume you're getting sick of being asked how you feel and if you're okay."

"You'd think... but if somebody had asked a long time ago, maybe I wouldn't be here."

"Would you have told them the truth?"

Tony laughed, knowing he was caught.

"Doubtful. If I knew the person really wanted an answer, though... who knows."

"It's true that most people don't. They're afraid to be obligated to do something about the problem, whatever it is. The people I talked to the other day... I didn't get that sense from them at all. I think if you'd opened up to Ducky or Abby months ago, you really might not have ended up wanting to hurt yourself that night."

"And there's the segue I was waiting for. We were going back to that topic, weren't we..."

"Absolutely, but only if you feel up to it. You've been through a lot today."

"I'm tired... but I can hold on a little longer."

"Okay. Let's go back to that night. Close your eyes and see it as a still picture. Tell me who's actually there in the office with you."

"Gibbs, McGee, Abby and Ziva."

"Not Ducky or Jimmy?"

"No. That doesn't mean Palmer's innocent, though. He still went to the damn party."

"How aware do you think he was of Ziva's deception?"

Tony's frown eased and he sighed quietly.

"Honestly? Not much, if at all. Let's face it, Jimmy is great at what he does and he's got a terrific mind, but... he's probably always been treated like a nerd. Nerds don't get looked at by beautiful, exotic women, never mind invited to parties. He couldn't be expected to refuse, I guess... and he wouldn't wanna jinx his luck by questioning her motives or why I wasn't there."

"Conclusion?"

"Off the hook."

"Good. Now study that frozen moment in your head. Look at their faces... and tell me what you really see. Try to step outside of what your emotions are pushing you to say. Tell me what's actually there in the expressions."

"Abby... she's happy, excited... relaxed. She was just talking about the party as if it was any other night that she had something fun to do... and couldn't wait to tell me."

"Meaning?"

"She wasn't hiding anything. She must've actually thought I just had someplace else to be that night. She didn't know..."

"Tim."

Tony produced a knowing smile, but it dissolved into a confused scowl as he worked through things logically.

"He was gloating... he always gets that smirk when he gloats. Wait, though... if he's taken on the place of middle child, like you said, then he would've jumped at the chance to get in on something cool without having to stand in big brother's shadow for once. God, that's where the look came from..."

"Gibbs."

Tony's eyes popped open and he stared sadly at Lewiston.

"He was just playing dad, wasn't he? One of his kids missed a family event for something he considered a lot less important. Ziva probably told him I was out chasing skirts or drinking..."

"That sounds likely from what little I know of her. So the final answer on Gibbs would be..."

"He didn't mean it either... he wasn't trying to hurt me. Damn... so what am I supposed to do now if I can't be mad at them anymore?"

"I'm afraid this is where the really hard work begins. You've worked out where your anger deserves to be directed and where it doesn't. Now you need to look inside."

"Figure out what I did to get myself to this point, you mean."

"I'm not saying there weren't factors beyond you that helped put you in that apartment with a knife in your hand, but it's vital that you understand the things you were in control of."

"Hell... I don't think I'm strong enough for that."

"You are. I have absolutely no doubt."

"Well as long as one of us is sure..."

"Don't worry, I'll get you over the finish line, Tony. Kicking and screaming, maybe, but I'll get you there. Now lay down and get some rest, alright? I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Tony countered the proposal, even as he fought off a yawn.

"Not that tired. You must have some books in this place, right? Can I get something to read? My brain's turning to oatmeal without input and stimulation..."

"I'll bring a selection with me when I come back, but only if I see your head on that pillow in the next ten seconds."

Tony reluctantly complied, grumbling as he pulled the blanket up to his chin.

"Gibbs, Ducky, now you... I need a third dad like the world needs clones of Ziva..."

***

9:30 THAT NIGHT: GIBBS' BASEMENT

Barely sipping at the inch or so of bourbon in his usual tumbler, Jethro sighed as the liquid was swallowed down, pacifying his conscience and his soul even as it freshly insulted the tissues of his throat. Carefully setting the glass on the stairs, he turned and gazed at his unfinished boat. For the first time in months he had no interest in completing it and that made him vaguely sad. He knew he would never destroy it as he had the others he'd tried to build, but the passion for this one was slowly leaching out of him and he didn't know how to make it stop.

Just as he was about to make the effort, apathy or not, the bell upstairs rang. Frowning, he re-settled the tumbler somewhere safer, made his way up to the house and answered the door.

"McGee. We got a case?"

"Kind of. Well, not a new one, but it is..."

Tim paused and took a deep breath, calming himself. He was excited and happy and the last thing he wanted was to drive his boss in the opposite emotional direction with his enthusiasm. "The cold case I was looking into? I did it, boss. I really think I figured it out."

Gibbs' eyebrow shot up.

"Yeah? I'm sure you're right, but can it wait 'till work tomorrow?"

Tim paled and his smile faded away as he began to back up slowly.

"Oh... it is kind of late. I was just so psyched... I'm sorry, boss. It's lasted this long, of course it can hang on a few more hours..."

Gibbs closed his eyes, grimaced faintly and surrendered.

"Tim, wait. C'mon in here and let's have a look at what you've got."

His restored grin still a little unsure, McGee moved cautiously into the house, dropped into a chair across from where Gibbs was now perched on the couch and handed the older man the file. At several points over the next half hour, Tim caught himself starting to speak up or make a point and stopped just in time. He trusted Gibbs to understand his notes and come to the same conclusion. When Gibbs looked up at last, his expression was grave and Tim knew his faith had been well placed. "You have a current address for this guy?"

"Right here on the first page, boss."

"What's the other material at the back?" Gibbs asked, looking down at the thick folder once more. "It all looks too new to be... shit." He swore softly, his color draining as he realized the truth.

"I know, boss. It twisted my gut into knots too. Our cold case was just the beginning for this bastard..."

Gibbs rose and Tim followed suit quickly, taking pride in the fact that he didn't fumble or drop the file when Gibbs slapped it back into his hands.

"Okay, get on the phone and tell Ziva to meet us back at the office ASAP. It's gonna be a long night..."

---------------------------

SIX HOURS LATER:

Gibbs watched a grimly joyful Tim McGee march a balding middle-aged man past the bullpen and toward the corridor leading to the interrogation rooms. Stifling an enormous yawn, he briefly debated whether to also allow the young agent the privilege of questioning the serial killer his diligent work had uncovered. At the moment, however, all Gibbs could think seriously about was his warm bed and ten hours of sleep.

Slowly moving off, he followed Tim's path, catching up just as he was settling the suspect into a chair. Through the glass, Gibbs crooked one finger and the other man left the brightly lit cell to join his boss in the hall.

"Yeah, boss?"

"I know you're anxious to get started, but neither of us is in any shape to go after him right now. Have him moved to the holding cells until we are."

"Right..." Tim responded wearily, looking at his watch. "Almost four-thirty. I might as well catch a nap at my desk since I have to be here in about three hours anyway."

"I respect myself and you more than that, McGee."

"Ahh... you already arranged the day off with the director."

"For cracking this fossil you deserve two weeks in Jamaica and I told her so."

Tim looked shocked and mildly hopeful, but Gibbs, regretfully, shot him down. "I said you deserve it, not that she'd go for it. Tomorrow free and clear is the best I could do."

"I'd go nuts away from work that long, anyway, boss, but thanks for trying. I'll see you day after."

"Actually... there's a place I've been wanting to show you. I was planning on going this weekend, but seeing how things have worked out... if you wanna come along..."

"Of course, I'd love to, but..."

"Yeah, I wanted to show Tony, too. I will when he's back with us. Right now is your moment. You did the great work... you get the reward."

"Okay. After lunch?"

"I'll pick you up at two. Don't wear anything you'd be pissed to get dirty."

"Uh... got it. See you then, boss."

"Night, Tim."

----------------------------

8:00 A.M. BETHESDA:

As Lewiston was approaching Tony's room with an arm full of books, he recalled something he'd wanted to request of one of the nurses and he detoured to the desk, only to find a familiar face already engaged in conversation with the person he'd hoped to speak to.

"Abby. It's good to see you. What in the world is that you're holding?"

"Just something I wanted Tony to have. The nurse was explaining that she'd have to get your permission. Now you're here, so... can I?"

"You stay right here a minute. I'll be right back. Promise you'll stay?"

Abby nodded solemnly, so Lewiston, after dropping the books on the desk, gave her a reassuring smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Good. I won't be long."

Striding quickly back to Tony's room, he entered and was pleased to find his patient already up and finished with breakfast.

"Morning, doc."

"Morning. I have a question for you. Since we worked out yesterday that nobody but Ziva meant you any harm that night... can we discuss expanding the visitor's list?"

Tony hesitated, but only for a few moments.

"I guess. They've probably been bugging you, huh?"

"Not at all. When I went to the office they all seemed anxious to see for themselves that you were doing as well as I claimed. There was some mention of forgiveness, too."

"Going which direction?" Tony asked, genuinely curious.

"You forgiving them, of course. Even though I'm sure everyone knows rationally that they weren't to blame for what happened, their emotions are still in control."

"And letting your emotions lead doesn't always help you recognize the truth."

"Exactly. Of course as I said earlier, eventually you'll need to ask their forgiveness as well. We'll talk about that a little today."

"Zippe-dee doo-dah."

"In the meantime, someone has anticipated your agreeing to more visitors."

"Who?"

"Abby. She's waiting out at the desk."

"Can... I've been craving more sun. Can I see her down there?"

"Absolutely. Whenever you're ready, I'll walk you out."

As before, getting Tony out of the room was a slow, patient process on both their parts, but it eventually succeeded. A few minutes later, Lewiston had Tony settled comfortably on a window seat in the sun room and sent a nearby orderly to find Abby and direct her to where they waited. Tony's heart broke when he saw her approaching uncertainly, her expression clearly telling him that she was afraid of what she might find. As she got closer and he realized what was in clutched in her arms, his face opened up into a bright smile and he even laughed quietly. To his great relief his obvious joy switched the Abby he knew back on and she rushed forward, dropping to her knees in front of him and releasing what she held in order to wrap him in a fierce embrace.

"Tony... Tony..."

"Hey, Abs. Easy... it's okay. I'm okay..."

"No you're not or you wouldn't be here..." she countered, thumping him almost viciously on the arm she knew hadn't been injured.

"Ahhh! Okay... I guess I deserve that."

"Yeah... you do." She told him as he finally pulled away. He stroked the back of one hand down her cheek and tugged gently on one pigtail. She moved up to sit beside him and he turned a little to face her.

"I know. I was mad and sad and mixed up... everything just seemed to crash in on me all at once. I didn't know what to do..."

"Not that."

"No... not that." He promised, reaching down to retrieve the item she'd left on the floor. "Good to see him again, too. I haven't had much to laugh about these last few days and Bert could always do it..."

He grinned at the stuffed animal for a long moment then handed him back to his mistress. To his surprise, she pressed Bert back into his hands.

"That's kinda why I brought him. I want you to keep him... at least 'till you come home again."

"Abby... no, I couldn't. I can't take him from you."

"I'll survive. You need him more than I do right now. Besides, if I squeeze Timmy hard enough, and in the right place, he does the same thing."

Tony erupted in laughter once again and drew Abby back into his arms.

"Too much information, Abs. Thanks for this. It means more than I can tell you..."

"Come home..." she whispered into his neck, her tears staining the neck of the scrubs he wore.

"Soon. I'm not ready just yet... but soon."

"Swear."

"I swear."

"Swear on your car."

Pulling back slightly, he mock scowled down into her face.

"Hey, I wouldn't ask you to swear on your GC mass-spec now would I?"

"Too far."

"Damn right."

"I should go. I'm late already and if Sheppard finds out..."

"I get it. Go on."

Reluctantly, Abby rose to her feet after giving Tony one more powerful hug. "Tell everybody I'm doing good, okay?"

"I will. Bye..."

"Bye, Abs."

Once she was out of sight, Lewiston took his own look at the hippo Tony was holding.

"Dare I ask what she was referring to?"

"You mean what she can make Bert and Tim both do if she squeezes?"

Tony looked around to insure himself that nobody was close enough to be offended then applied pressure to Bert's middle. The one-trick pony did his trick and suddenly it was Lewiston's turn to belly laugh.

***

Once he'd recovered his composure, Lewiston sighed and petted Bert gently.

"That's one cool hippo, I have to admit."

"Yeah... he really is. Not as cool as Abby, though. This... this thing isn't just a stuffed animal to her... it's a combination best friend, confidante and security blanket. You can't know what a sacrifice it was for her to give this up... even temporarily."

"Pretty special."

"More than anybody outside our team will ever understand. Umm... when I told her I wasn't ready... I was talking about going home. What, umm... what's your opinion on that?" Tony asked quietly, sudden fear rendering him unable to raise his eyes from the glass ones staring up at him from the circle of his arms.

"Three or four more days. Maybe not even that long."

The response to his question brought Tony's head up and around swiftly, his gaze locking with his doctor's.

"That's all? Four more days? That can't be right. I'm still having trouble getting out of my room, for Gods' sake..."

Lewiston chuckled.

"Take it as a compliment, Tony. You're doing very well. We've got the toughest issues to work through still, but you're definitely a lot stronger than you were going in. Another few days will be more than enough time, trust me."

"And... after that?"

"Five to six months of outpatient treatment."

Tony dropped his eyes again and leaned forward, shifting Bert to a two handed grip and focusing on the hippo's bland features, hoping to calm his racing heart and mind.

"Wow... I can't figure out the next five minutes. Looking that far ahead..."

"You don't have to, not yet, anyway. Let's take your new buddy to your room and settle in for a talk, okay?"

"Do I have to? The personal reasons I ended up holding that knife to my wrist... I'm just afraid they're buried in some majorly unattractive sludge."

"That's a good bet."

"Then why dredge them up?"

"Because hoarding noxious secrets isn't good for any part of you; mind, body or spirit.
Plus, exposing them to the light destroys them and lets you start to heal, which is never a bad thing."

"Like a serious infection has to be drained and cleaned before the anti-biotics will do any good."

"Perfect analogy. That's exactly how it works."

"So the outpatient therapy... is like not stopping before you take all the pills... even though you're not seeing the doctor every day anymore. If you don't take the whole course of medicine, the next time you get sick... it'll be worse and the same treatment won't work as well, if it works at all."

Lewiston whistled softly, surprised anew by the quickness and flexibility of Tony's mind.

"Boy, that insight of yours is one powerful tool. No wonder you're Gibbs' Senior Agent."

"It wasn't my charm or my pretty face." Tony joked feebly, standing and carefully hugging Bert to his chest once more. "Let's get going, huh? I've still got a mile high mountain of crud to sort through and only four more days to do it."

Lewiston nodded, rose and followed silently. As they approached Tony's room, the doctor took a quick detour to pick up the books he'd left on the desk and trailed Tony into the more private space. Closing the door behind him, he was pleased to see Tony's eyes light up when he saw the stack of paperbacks.

"Cool." Tony commented, taking his usual seat on the bed and reluctantly laying Bert aside. "Can I.."

"Of course." Lewiston agreed, handing over the books and claiming his chair. Tony sorted rapidly through the stack, setting aside all but one non-fiction book. Lewiston's eyebrows lifted momentarily at the choice of subject matter. " ' Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee ' ? Interesting."

"I have a big section of books on Native American culture and history at my place. I love the subject, but anything I read has to be from their point of view or show them in a positive light."

"Sympathy for an unfairly displaced people who never really got the justice they deserved. Completely understandable."

Tony looked up in surprise from his perusal of the back cover of the book.

"Yeah... yeah, I guess it is. No comparison between our experiences, though. I could never have survived what they've gone through."

"You were forced out of the only home you knew and into a consistently stressful situation with no real chance to prepare and few tools to help you survive. The people who promised to protect you and give you a fair return on your loyalty and trust ended up betraying you. I'd say there's a comparison."

Tony stared at Lewiston is shock for several seconds before finding his voice.

"You know, it's really unnerving when you do that."

"So I've been told." Lewiston replied, laughing quietly. "My friends keep insisting that if they didn't know it was an unconscious habit they wouldn't still be my friends."

"Yeah, well... disturbing or not, I'm grateful. It's useful for shifting my perspective around when I'm focused on the wrong thing... or in the wrong direction."

"You never really had anyone to do that for you, did you?"

"No... not 'till NCIS. Gibbs, Abby, Ducky, they all kept me so grounded... they kept my head in proportion to my body."

"Kept? Past tense?"

"I want that back... but it's like you said, the forgiveness has to go both ways and I don't... I'm just not sure..." Tony confessed, exchanging the book for Bert once more.

"They do have a right to be angry, even if they don't realize it yet. It won't be easy when they do. You did a good job with Abby earlier, accepting that minor reprimand she threw at you out of nowhere."

"She's good at that. Spend any time at all around Abs and you learn to shift gears and the topic of conversation as fast as she does. Those who can't keep up don't last long in her world."

"No, I would guess not."

"I don't know how I'm gonna handle them being pissed with me. I may not be able to help getting defensive. They weren't there, they weren't inside my skin or my head... they don't know what I was going through."

"Are you completely sure about that?"

"No, of course not. How could I be?"

"There's one way."

Tony mused for several minutes, once again gazing deeply into Bert's deep eyes as if they were a teleprompter and the answers would suddenly appear in them, ready to recite. Finally, he smiled thinly and gave a subdued response.

"Is there a space here that's big enough for me to talk to all of them at once? Someplace where you do group therapy, maybe?"

"Absolutely. I can set that up."

"Okay... God, I know I have to do it, but... looking around at their faces and not seeing the one I most need to talk to... that'll drive me right back in here for another week, I know it."

"What would Kate's reaction have been to all this?"

"Katie... would have kicked my ass to Miami and back for even thinking of suicide. ' DiNozzo, you stupid bastard! The damn plague couldn't take you out, why the hell would you try to find the afterlife voluntarily?! ' I need that more than anything else right now. No pity, no tears... just a boot upside my head to knock sense back into me and that voice yelling at me to get over and get on."

Tony suddenly burst out laughing and dropped over on his side, hugging Bert tightly enough that he made his trademark noise again, which only got Tony cackling harder. When he'd finally calmed down, Lewiston questioned him.

"What was that about?"

"I-I always wondered why her parents named her Kate... it's such a simple, kinda sweet name and she wasn't either one. I just got it... Shakespeare... Taming of the Shrew..."

Laughter suddenly devolved into tears and abject grief as Lewiston moved to perch on the edge of the bed, lightly gripping Tony's forearm. "I miss her, damn it... I want her back..."

"Would she want this, Tony? Think about what you just told me..."

"No... no, she'd hate knowing I was still grieving her... her loss."

"Try that again."

"What?"

"You talk about that day in euphemisms and general terms, but I haven't heard you actually say the words. Sit up... that's right. Now, look me in the eyes. No evasions this time. Look right here and tell me what happened to Kate."

"She... she was shot."

"No. What happened to Kate?"

"A terrorist murdered her..."

"No, Tony."

"I don't understand... what are you doing? What is it you want?"

"The truth. Tell me. For Kate and for you... what happened to her that day?"

"I can't... I can't let her go..."

"Not your choice. Someone else made that decision and it was over before you even realized what was happening. Now the only thing you can do is acknowledge that. C'mon, Tony... you can do this. Say the words."

"She... the bastard shot her down... she was just laying there... her eyes open... I looked down and... I knew... I knew she was dead... the son of a bitch killed Katie...I couldn't stop him... and I couldn't save her..." Tony sobbed, falling face first onto the mattress. Lewiston stroked his hair and patted his back.

"Since her death you've barely had time to slow down, Tony. Pushing your grief aside and charging ahead isn't the same as going through the process. You've got time, now, and someone to guide you through it. You're not fighting every battle alone anymore, remember? I'm here... I'm right here."

-----------------------------

2:45

Pulling his arms around his body, Tim shivered in the wind off the water and wished he'd also brought a jacket to go over his old t-shirt and the flannel shirt that flapped loose in the chill breeze. Gibbs grinned as he retrieved the keys from the ignition, exited the car, closed and locked the doors and moved to stand beside the younger man.

"The wind can whip out here sometimes. I've got a coat in the back seat if you want it."

"No... I'll be fine once we get inside, boss. This place is huge. What is it?"

"One of the cornerstones of my life these past few years. Kept me from goin' crazy more than once..."

"Okay... that's good to know, but it doesn't answer the question."

The smack to the back of his head surprised Tim, but a moment later he grinned from ear to ear, realizing that he'd just received a sort of baptism. "Eyes and ears open, mouth closed. Got it, boss."

"Good. Now let's go."

As they approached, a sign answered Tim's question for him, but that only sent more curious thoughts racing through his head:

ALEXANDRIA SEAPORT FOUNDATION

***

Joe Youcha is a real person and the real head of this amazing foundation. Go google it or him. I swear, you'll be as pleased as I was.

--------------------

Just as the pair were about to enter the building, Gibbs' cell rang and he paused to retrieve and answer it, hoping against hope that it wasn't a work emergency ruining his plans. He had little enough time to get to this special place and now, with McGee in tow, he found more than the usual excitement singing through his veins and along his nerves.

"Gibbs. Yeah? That's great. He what? He did. Okay... no, I knew it'd happen, just... Yeah. Whenever you are. Right. That soon? Is he... oh. That's good news... really good. Yeah, just phone or e-mail me the details. Okay. Thanks for the update. I know you said you would... hey, back off my cynical nature, willya? It helps me do my job." Gibbs chuckled. "Maybe so. Thanks again. Okay. Okay. Bye."

Gibbs flipped his phone closed and looked up to find McGee studying him with a curious expression. "Tony's put us all on the visitor's list. Plus he wants to set up a group meeting... so we can all put this behind us at the same time."

"All except you know who. Right?"

"After the attitude she was throwing around when we all met in the office? That goes without saying."

"Good. That's good."

"When he gets the when and where arranged, Lewiston will let me know. He, uh... he says Tony should be ready to get outta there in a few more days. Says it's goin' better than he could've hoped."

"That's a huge relief, boss."

"Yeah... yeah it is. Don't call me that in here, by the way."

"What, boss?"

"Off-duty or out of the office... it's just Gibbs."

"Gotcha, b... I mean Gibbs."

"Nice catch. One thing you need to know before we go in here... you can be surprised, but stay aware enough not to look it. I know I told you first impressions are usually on target, but this place is an exception."

Understood. I'm ready."

"Hope so. Let's get moving. Lots to do, only a few hours to do it."

McGee nodded slightly and followed Gibbs through the door and into the immense space. As he glanced up and around, struggling to absorb the entirety of what he was seeing, he was deeply grateful for the older man's warning. The long, high building was filled with various shapes and sizes of boats, all in different stages of construction. Most were unattended, but a few were being diligently worked on, and the workers, Tim knew, were what Gibbs had been talking about.

"Wow. This is incredible, Gibbs. The kids... they aren't what they look like, are they?"

"They were. Gangs, drugs... general bad attitude and bad behavior. This place is a new chance for them... a shot at something better."

Tim smiled.

"The discipline, the need to listen and remember or the boat will never be right, the sense of accomplishment and building instead of tearing down... I get it. That's so cool. How did you find out about this place?"

"Old crony grapevine. A lot of the volunteers are ex-military. One of 'em was a good friend. He brought me down, put a sanding block in my hand..."

"... and you were hooked. So the basement grew out of working here?"

"Not really. I had the interest before this place... but no knowledge, no understanding. I'd start a boat, get it part-way or mostly done, then realize it was crap, destroy it and blame it on whichever marriage I'd just blown to hell. Volunteering here... I learned what it really meant to want to build something... to need to instead of just futzing around 'cause I was bored or frustrated. I also learned how good it felt passing that lesson on to these kids. That... that's what hooked me."

"And now it's my chance. Gibbs... I'm really honored."

"Don't thank me yet. Once you get the hang of this place, you'll be expected to do some passing on and teaching."

"I understand that. That's why I'm honored." Tim replied quietly, working to control his emotions, which were suddenly close to the surface. Sniffing, and praying Gibbs would think he was just taking in and enjoying the diverse carpentry aromas, Tim grinned and subtly changed the subject. "Can we start now? I'm getting charged up about this..."

"When he says we can." Gibbs told him, indicating the stocky man striding in their direction. When he reached them, the stranger enveloped Gibbs forearm in a tight grasp and cuffed the former marine heartily on the shoulder.

"Jethro. Long time no see, my man."

"Hey, Joe." Gibbs greeted, returning the grin the other man was beaming at him and squeezing his hand firmly before he was released. "Tim McGee, this is Joe Youcha. He runs the place."

"Nice to meet you, sir." Tim said, offering his hand. Youcha shook it firmly.

"You too. Good to finally meet a member of this famous team Jethro's been telling me about for so long."

Tim flushed slightly and found other things to look at, making Gibbs' smile widen. He focused on his friend, allowing Tim to recover his composure.

"Got anything we can work on, Joe?"

Youcha turned and gazed quickly around the space, his eyes running appraisingly over all the works in progress.

"Nothing that isn't claimed, I'm afraid. I don't like to let anyone mess with something one of my kids has put their mark on... why don't you start fresh? I've got the materials for a new boat all ready to go down the other end."

"That'd be great, buddy. Thanks."

"No problem." He responded, turning a solemn, intent expression on McGee. "You prefer first name or last, young man?"

"Uhhh... Tim, please."

"We have two major rules around here, Tim. I expect both to be followed without exception. One; never, ever dodge any safety precaution Jethro shows you, no matter how silly or unnecessary it might seem. Two; before you pick up or touch any tool, listen to Jethro and watch him use it first. Clear?"

"Eyes and ears open, mouth shut. I know that rule intimately, sir."

"Working under a marine, I was sure you would, but I had to say it anyway. I'm supervising a newcomer right now, but I'll come check on you two in a while, okay? Have fun, 'Ro."

"Do my best. Thanks again, Joe."

"You know you and anybody you drag along are always welcome. Be nice if we saw you more often, matter of fact, but I know how dedicated you are to NCIS. Dinner for three when you've worn the kid out?"

"Sounds good."

Youcha walked away and Gibbs grimaced. Tim fought down his urge to grin and the even stronger desire to ask the origin of the nickname.

"I swear, nobody will ever hear about it from me, Gibbs."

"I'll hold you to that. C'mon..."

Tim followed Gibbs to the other end of the building and, over several trips, gathered the pieces of wood the older man pointed out, piling them carefully in a secluded area a few yards away. After donning heavy gloves and protective goggles, he observed how Gibbs worked the sanding block over a long plank that had been lifted up and balanced between two sawhorses. His stomach mildly twisted in apprehension when Jethro stopped and silently held the tool out to him.

"Are you sure, Gibbs? All of a sudden, I'm not..."

"It's not a big deal, Tim. Just go with the grain and take your time."

"The grain?"

"Here... see how it is..."

"Oh... oh, yeah. Okay. I just... like this?" Tim asked, making a tentative swipe with the block.

"Yeah, but put a little effort in. Don't be afraid to put some weight behind it... there. Better. Much better..."

When Joe was finally able to come and check on the pair almost two hours later, Tim had moved on from sanding to planning and his joy in Gibbs' occasional praise could be felt and seen. As the other approached, Tim looked up and carefully laid the tool down, his arms dropping immediately to his sides. Youcha grinned, realizing that the young man was exhausted as well as ecstatic.

"Hey, guys. How's he doing, 'Ro?"

"Not bad. He's got a natural feel for the wood and he's picking up the techniques faster than I thought he might."

"Hmmph. You're right. Not many first timers have such a gentle, easy touch with the plane... not exactly the style for a shipwright, but an instrument maker or a carver... definite possibilities." Youcha murmured, closely examining the work Tim had been doing a moment before. "Nice job, Tim. Time to shut down, though. I don't know about you two, but a medium rare T-bone steak is calling my name and I don't plan to keep it waiting much longer."

"It hasn't been that long, has it..." Tim countered, checking his watch. "Wow. I was so wrapped up in the wood and what I was doing... I didn't notice."

Gibbs and Joe both laughed as they guided Tim away from his work and back toward the outside world.

-----------------------

AN EMERGENCY ROOM SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE OF D.C.

"Miss..."

"I told you, it's Jenny. Just call me Jenny, alright? No last names."

"That's your choice. Are you sure you won't tell me how you got these injuries, Jenny? I can help you and I swear you'll be safe from whoever did this..."

"No! I mean... I said I was mugged this morning. Just... do something about the pain, please..."

"I want to believe you, but some of these wounds are whip marks and one or two are clearly several days old..."

"Stop it! I told you what happened and that's all I'm saying. Do your job, for God's sake!"

"Okay, I hear you, Jenny. This will take a while, I'm afraid. The infection is deep on a few of the older wounds."

"I understand. Just do it... whatever you have to do, just do it."

***

LATER THAT EVENING:

"Yes? That's marvelous, Jethro. Just what we were... well, of course. Hmmm. I don't know. I'm sure he'd be glad to if... no, that's very true. Tony hasn't seen him in quite a long while. I'll ask, of course. Do contact the doctor and Anthony and get confirmation, just in case. You did? At last! I've been pleading with you to take both of them there for an eternity. I did predict that, didn't I? The boy is sensitive and creative. One can fairly see it in his face... instrument maker? Yes... yes, I can easily believe that. That doesn't preclude his further work at the foundation, however. A touch and talent for wood is a touch and talent. It can be expressed in a variety of ways. I do, actually. She makes guitars. Yes, I absolutely will contact her. No... no problem at all. She's been looking for an apprentice for a few months now. Good. When the details of our meeting with Anthony are finalized... excellent. Yes. Well, I wouldn't expect you to be anything but exhausted, dear boy. Yes... good-night."

As Ducky hung up the phone, his face alight with happiness, Gerald approached and joined him on the sofa, handing his lover a cup of tea. "Oh, thank you, love. Just what's wanted..."

Gerald kissed the older man softly on the cheek, a large part of his recent burden of worry falling from his shoulders on seeing Ducky's expression.

"You look wonderful. The phone call must have been good news."

"Indeed. Tony has agreed that all of us can come and visit. As a matter of fact, Doctor Lewiston has even persuaded him to participate in a... I believe they call it a 'group session', so that we can all air how we've been feeling since that awful night."

"That's fantastic." Gerald responded happily, pulling his legs up and snuggling close. "He really must be getting better, then."

"Yes, it would seem so. Timothy appears to be having his own growth spurt, so to speak. Young Mr. McGee has been revisiting a few very cold cases, hoping to find one he could provide a resolution for, and he succeeded. Quite spectacularly, according to Jethro."

"Great! What sent him in that direction in the first place?"

"He claims Tony taught him that justice delayed is no justice at all and he wanted to prove the lesson didn't go in one ear and out the other. The preparation and arrest kept he and Jethro up into the wee hours of this morning so they received today off. I did wonder about their absence. It's good to know the explanation was a happy one..." Ducky elaborated, drifting off into silence and contemplation until Gerald chuckled and nudged him gently.

"And? I know that can't be the whole story. You were on the phone for forty minutes."

"Oh. As a reward, Jethro finally took Timothy to the foundation for an hour or two."

"About time. How did Tim do?"

"Very well. Jethro seems to think the boy is a natural. The resident expert agreed, though he did mention Tim might make a better instrument designer than a shipwright. His delicate touch..."

Now Gerald lit up.

"Susannah."

"Yes. I do believe she and Timothy will get along quite well."

"Maybe he'll even learn to play."

"Wouldn't that be splendid?" Ducky sighed, setting his cup carefully on the table in front of him. Gerald wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close.

"Another?"

"No... no, one is fine for the moment."

"It sounds like everything is getting better at work. Are you sure you don't want to change your mind?"

"Anthony's troubles are only a small part of the reason for my decision, love. You're finally healed, body and mind... you deserve this chance. Besides, who knows how much time you and I may have left?"

"Don, don't talk like that, please..."

"Oh, I know you dislike hearing it, but I am no longer young, Gerald dear. How ever many months or years remain for me to love you, they will be much more satisfying if both of us are happy... and this choice makes me happy."

"Okay. I can accept that. I can accept anything as long as you stop looking so haggard and lost. I've been so frightened for you..."

Ducky leaned in and kissed away the tear tracking down Gerald's cheek.

"No more than I have for myself. Trying times... but as you said, things are slowly getting better. Jethro asked if you'd like to attend the group meeting with the rest of us. I told him I'd present you the option, but don't feel obligated..."

"Wow... it's been a while. Considering Ari was causing such havoc and grief back then, seeing me might just bring back bad memories for Tony."

"Well, Jethro is going to contact Lewiston and check on it from Tony's end. Why don't you just think on it until we hear the result?"

"Yeah... I'll do that."

"Good. Now, I do believe it's time for bed."

"Tired, hmmm? It has been a long day."

"I said bed... not sleep. I think a celebration is in order for all the positive news that found its way to us today. If you're agreeable?"

"Always." Gerald replied, kissing Ducky until both were breathless.

-------------------------

Sipping his soda, Tim winced slightly at the noise waxing and waning around him. He had resisted coming here at first, but he could never hold out against Abby for long and this was where she wanted to go when she heard and saw how excited he was following his afternoon with Gibbs. He grinned as he watched her devouring pizza.

"That's your tenth slice, Abby. You'll explode if you don't quit soon."

"You can never have too much pizza, Timmy. It's a universal law. Besides, I'll work it off when we hit the games. Man, I love Chuckie Cheese!"

"And I love you, so for one night... I'm good with it." He laughed, leaning in and placing a kiss in her hair.

"So? You were telling me about last night."

"Oh... I almost talked myself out of going over to his house, but I just knew I was right, so I just... took the plunge. I didn't think he'd even let me in, but he did, he looked at the file and my notes... and he agreed. It was such a... a moment, feeling like I was worth something in his eyes. Then we did the prep work and went and got the guy. Bringing the SOB in, it was... I can't describe how it felt. I've never been that high on the job... that into what I do."

"And this afternoon?"

"That was incredible. I've never worked with wood before, but it felt absolutely right. I watched and listened to Gibbs before I tried it myself, you know, but... when I got the tools in my hands it was like I'd been doing it forever. And knowing that he thought enough of me to take me there... it was a major shock. I'm still absorbing everything that happened and the things he said..."

Turning a sober look up at Tim, Abby studied him carefully before speaking again.

"And when Tony comes back?"

"I don't know. I'll deal with it... I'll have to."

Abby reached over and touched Tim's face caringly.

"I'm proud of you for taking the initiative, baby. Gibbs won't just forget what you've shown him these past few days. You know he isn't like that. Even if he was, Tony wouldn't let Gibbs forget."

"Tony wants his place back. If he steps on me to get it... I won't really be able to blame him."

"Timmy, stop. That won't happen. Remember what you told Lewiston that day we all met at work? You said Tony pushed you and teased you to make you stronger and better. How can you think he won't be thrilled to see how well it worked? You stepped up and had Gibbs' back when Tony couldn't be there. He'll be so proud of you for that..."

"You think?" Tim responded uncertainly.

"I know."

Tim brightened.

"Sounds good, but when we're all together again... then I'll know for sure. Skee-ball?"

"Oh, you don't wanna challenge me at skee-ball, Timmy."

"I was the champion at my high school and at MIT."

"Yeah, but I come here at least once a week. You are so going down." Abby chortled, rising and tugging Tim up to his feet.

"Okay, okay. You'll see. Prepare to have your butt kicked."

"Fewest tickets has to trade them for whatever the other person wants at the prize counter?"

"You're on."

----------------

GIBBS' HOUSE

Taking a slow sip of his coffee, Gibbs contemplated his current boat and gradually admitted to himself that this was the one that would reach completion. Turning away, he laughed quietly at the reasons and the thought that he had revealed things to Tim McGee earlier that day that noone else knew. Truthfully, he had been a bit shocked himself to hear the words. Finishing off the mug of coffee, he greeted the visitor who had stopped halfway down the basement stairs.

"Tobias. Come on down."

Fornell acceded to the request, but when he spoke, his tone was not friendly or casual.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at, Gibbs?"

"Uh-oh. Somebody's pissed. What are we talking about?"

"David. He's on a flight here as we speak."

"Yeah?"

"Don't mess with me, damn it. You knew all about this. What have you done?"

"I told him a few truths... left it up to him to decide what to do with them."

"Truths? Like what?"

Gibbs was silent. Picking up a sanding block, he moved to the boat and began cleaning up a rough edge he'd noticed. His response was proved unnecessary a few moments later when Fornell suddenly realized what Gibbs meant. "Jethro, you didn't. God, tell me you didn't do what I think..."

"Okay. I didn't."

"Oh, hell... he knows about Ari?"

Gibbs smiled lightly and gestured at his mug.

"You want a cup of coffee? There's bourbon as usual..."

"Shit, Jethro..."

"... is about to hit the fan. I suggest you stay out of the line of fire."

"You expect me not to interfere? You are out of your ever-loving mind..."

"For God's sake, Tobias, how long have you known me? I don't do anything without a damn good reason."

"And this time?"

"When it's over and done... we'll go have a beer and I'll tell you everything. For now, just back off."

"Jethro..."

"I'm protecting my family. That's all you need to know."

"Family... you mean DiNozzo."

Gibbs threw Fornell an icy warning glare. "I know he hasn't been at work, that's all. As to the reason, I don't have a clue."

"Keep it that way."

"Jethro... your ass is on the line here, even if nothing goes wrong with whatever you're planning."

"You don't think I know that?"

"I'm sure you do."

"Then either have a drink or pick up a tool and help with the boat."

Fornell sighed and shook his head.

"Where's the bourbon?"

***

8:30 A.M. THE FOLLOWING MORNING

When Tim arrived at work, he found Gibbs in a familiar state, making very familiar sounds. The older man was leaning close to his computer screen, growling and muttering under his breath. Grinning, McGee approached with caution and spoke quietly.

"Boss? Can I help?"

"Stupid... machines are supposed to help you, not make you wanna start a bonfire with 'em..."

"What are you trying to... oh, I think I see. If you want I can do that on mine."

"Yeah... why not? Go on..."

Tim moved back to his desk, powered up his system and pulled up the website Gibbs had been trying to enter.

"See. With all the lawsuits from the artists... you have to pay for this kind of thing now. I have an account on this site. The price is minimal... like a buck a song, and it's really worth it, at least for me, since I don't download a lot... there we go. Signed in. What artist were you looking for?"

Gibbs gazed around quickly, as if he were worried about being overheard, then took the extra precaution of lowering his voice a little, just to be sure.

"One smirk, one giggle..."

"Of course not, boss. I take my music seriously."

"Billy Joel."

"One of my favorites. I have a lot of his CD's at home." Tim responded, typing the search request in and bringing up a list of albums and the songs they contained. "Any song in particular?"

"I wish I knew. It was one of those where the title isn't real obvious. I heard it on the way in this morning on the oldies station. Something about how the simple lines are already written and the radio just repeats them..."

Tim's grin returned full force.

"I know just which one you mean... here. This is it, right?" he said, waving Gibbs over.

" 'If I Only Had the Words'... yeah, I should've guessed that. He says it enough in the course of the song. It just doesn't sound like a title..."

"Billy has a way of putting out songs like that. Some of his titles are easy to pick out, some you really have to work at it."

"Can I... how do I get this so I can take it home?"

"I'll burn the song to a CD for you."

"Burn? I didn't mean it about the bonfire, McGee..."

"Burn like transfer the song to a disk that will play in a CD stereo or a portable... please, don't hit me, boss, but I have to ask..."

"Yeah, I have a CD player at home. You won't get smacked, 'cause you begged me not to, but just for future reference, age and or techno-phobe comments..."

"Smack is imminent. I understand."

Directing one ear behind them, still listening for Ziva or anyone else that might be getting in earshot, Gibbs asked another question.

"So... you can do more than one song?"

"Yeah. Up to twenty, maybe, on a regular CD. Way more than that on a quality MP3 player. See, an MP3..."

"Whoa! I don't ask, you don't explain."

"Got it."

"Is there someplace where I can just go read lyrics?"

"Sure. Hang on..."

Moving back to Gibbs' desk, Tim typed in the address of his favorite lyric site and bookmarked it so Gibbs could go back and check it again if a case interrupted his search. The older man followed, examining the images and text and liking what he found.

"Here. This is the best one I know of. It's easy to navigate, they have a huge collection of artists and titles, and I've only found flubbed lyrics two or three times. Pick which ones you want and I'll download them for you anytime."

"That'll work. Damn... elevator. Must be Ziva. If she catches you with that on your screen I may have to get verbally medieval on your ass..." Gibbs warned him, reclaiming his seat and sending Tim scurrying back to his area.

"It's all for show, I understand. No problem, boss. One repentant flunky geek coming up..."

---------------------

BETHESDA:

Lewiston entered Tony's room with Brad right behind him and their mutual patient groaned and turned over in bed so that he faced away from them.

"Oh, hell..."

"Pardon him. Manners haven't been high on our list of discussion topics. Now I see I'll have to correct that oversight." Lewiston quipped to his colleague.

"Don't bother. He'd only ignore you."

Tony produced a sound that was half laughter, half sheer pathos.

"You're not here. I'm hallucinating."

"You only wish that was true."

"And if I had a genie's cell number, you'd be in Antarctica instead of here, torturing me."

"Tony, give it a rest, okay?" Brad warned. "You agreed to this and you know how important it is."

"I'll give it a rest when you promise me there are no sharp objects anywhere on your person."

"The needles again..."

"Yes, the needles again!" Tony asserted, rolling back over and sitting up to confront Brad. "You never took me seriously when I tried to tell you I was developing a phobia about the damn things."

Brad sighed and moved to perch on the edge of the bed.

"I did believe you, Tony, I swear I did. With something like pneumonic plague, there was just no way around the frequent blood tests. Neither one of us had a choice then... and we don't now."

"You can do anything you want, including a hernia check. I'll turn my head and cough as many times as you want..."

"You don't have a hernia."

"Find me something heavy, I'll give myself one!"

"Tony..."

"I can't, Brad. I just can't. Look at me, I'm already freaking out..."

"Tony, people with Y-Pestis, if they recover, can relapse without warning. Having a new infection, even one that barely got started, increases the chance of that happening. Too many people care about you and want you home for me to just give in on this."

"Relapse? You never told me that. Why didn't you say something?"

"You've done so well... I guess I hoped I'd never need to tell you. I was wrong not to warn you that it could happen, I admit that. I'm sorry..."

"God... I could be that sick again? At a moment's notice?"

"I won't allow it, Tony."

"Neither of us will." Lewiston added.

Staring blankly at a wall, Tony continued to speak as if the others had not made any reassurances at all.

"I won't go back there. The creepy blue lights, the fear, the loneliness... I won't go back. Never..."

Lewiston moved to kneel by the bed and turned Tony by the shoulders so that they were face to face. The contact brought the young man out of his momentary state of shock.

"It's okay, Tony. You'll never go through that again if we have anything to say about it."

"I can't face that a second time... but the needle is... What am I supposed to do, here?"

"Let me help you through it."

"It's too big. I've tried over and over..."

"Talk to me about it. Talk to me, Tony. This is all we've been doing since the start, right? You know how the process works by now. Trust me... open up to me and we'll fix this."

Below Tony's line of sight, Lewiston shifted his hand subtly and tapped Brad's ankle. The other man instantly understood that he was being given the gift of a few minutes distraction and he'd better take advantage of it quickly.

"You know how I feel about the whole modern medicine thing... and why. I spent days and days in that isolation unit and that... damn IV never left my arm. Once I got out, I would've blown off after-care altogether, but my job was on the line. I had to go, or I would've gotten ratted out for my own good. Thing is, every time I showed for a check-up, there he was with another needle... it got so I hated the sight of the building and the parking lot..."

Feeling the rubber strip being knotted around his arm, Tony whipped his head sideways and started to protest, but Lewiston drew him right back.

"No. Over here Tony. Tony... don't look at what he's doing, pay attention to me. That's right... keep talking. Tell me the whole story."

"I can't... he..."

"Yes, you can. Focus, Tony. You hated the building and the parking lot..."

"It... it got harder and harder to make myself go. Finally... I just stopped. I kept waiting for the hammer to fall, for some memo to come down saying I was in trouble... but it never happened. Like Brad said, he... he let me slide. He settled for hearing from me over the phone... I figured out how to sound happy and healthy even when I was far from it..."

Despite Brad's best efforts, Tony was so on edge anticipating the needle that when it slid under his skin he cried out and would have pulled away if Lewiston hadn't grasped his free hand. "God... get him off me... make him stop! Please..."

"Name the seven dwarves, Tony."

"What?!"

"It's not that hard. Name the seven dwarves. C'mon. You can do that..."

"Bashful, Dopey, Doc, Grumpy... Sneezy, Sleepy and Happy."

"Perfect. Now give me all the factors of forty-eight."

"Shit... you want me to do math now?"

"Absolutely. Let's go. Factors of forty-eight."

"Um... One, two, three, four, six, eight, twelve, sixteen, twenty-four, forty-eight."

"Fantastic. Ah-ah, eyes front, okay? Brad's almost finished, but not quite. Tell me about Gibbs. What's he really like?"

"He... he's strong... strongest, most intuitive investigator I've ever known. He loves boats. He's building one... in his basement, of all places. How he'll ever get it out is one of the... the world's great mysteries... God almighty, Pitt, will you hurry up?!"

"Okay, okay. Almost... there. Everything's sealed and put away. Bend your arm to hold... good. Now we band-aid over the cotton... done. I'm sorry, Tony. You know I mean that, don't you?"

Tony refused to look at Brad for a long stretch of minutes, but finally he sighed, rubbed his eyes and faced his friend.

"Hey, irresistible force always wins, right? One more point on your side of the scoreboard. I won't hold it against you."

"That's not what this was about. You're not just a patient to me, you're a friend. With a lot of help and your unbelievable determination I saw you recover from a disease you shouldn't have had a chance against. I won't lose you now to something I might be able to prevent with a simple test. I truly do regret the pain you just went through. All I can say is that... I did it because I care about you, too, Tony... and I want you back in my life as much as everybody at NCIS does."

"I've missed our friendship. Nobody else can keep up with me on the basketball court..."

"I'll give you all the games you can handle when you get out of here. That's a promise." Brad chuckled, holding out his hand sideways. Tony wrapped his around it and used it to pull his friend in for a brief one-armed hug. "You ready for the rest of this exam, buddy?"

"You've already done your worst. Anything else you do to me will feel like the Fourth of July and a bachelor party rolled into one..."

---------------------

OFFICE OF THE SEC-NAV: 11:45 A.M.

The pretty young woman looked over at the intercom on her desk as her boss' disembodied voice floated out of it.

"I'll be working through lunch today, Marci, but order yourself anything you want. My treat."

"Thank you, sir. You have a visitor. He doesn't have an appointment, but..."

"Yes?"

"I'm not really sure, sir. I just think you should see him. He seems familiar, but I can't place him."

The door to the inner office opened a moment later and the sec-nav strode out into the small reception area, stopping short when he realized who his visitor was.

"Director David. What a surprise. A pleasant one, of course..."

"Yes. Not this time I'm afraid. If we could go to your office, please? We must speak and it must be in private."

"Well... yes. Absolutely. Whatever you need. Marci, no calls until we're finished."

"Yes, sir."

***

1:00 P.M : NCIS

As he settled back into his desk after lunch, part of Gibbs was craving a fresh case and something interesting and juicy to sink his investigative teeth into, but for the most part he was hoping the unusual lull would continue. The private, personal areas of his life were demanding so much more attention than was typical that he was grateful for a little time to manage and sort out the jumble in peace. Booting up his computer system, he navigated to the Internet and sat for a long moment, staring at the screen and trying to remember what it was he wanted to click to get to where he needed to go. McGee strolled in a few minutes later, correctly interpreted the quandary his boss was in and directed Gibbs' cursor to the right place without comment. The older man smiled, but didn't let Tim see, and got back to his task. McGee did the same.

An hour later, Gibbs had a long hand-written list on a legal pad. He tore the page off, rose and dropped it on Tim's desk. The young man looked at the paper, frowned and gazed over to where his boss was slipping into his jacket.

"Boss..."

"Yeah? What?"

"Ummm... you do know... well of course you do, you picked the songs, but... played together, back to back... these songs..."

"They'll send a message. I get that, McGee."

"Okay. I'll, uh... I'll get these downloaded tonight."

"Thanks. Let me know the final total on the money and I'll write you out a check."

"You don't have to, boss..."

"I pay my debts. And it's hush money, of course. I trust you to keep your mouth shut about it... but incentive never hurts."

"Gotcha. You're going home?"

"For a drive. If the Director asks..."

"You're re-interviewing witnesses on a cold case."

Gibbs grinned openly this time.

"I knew there was some reason I kept you around."

"I'm loyal?"

"And not afraid to be sneaky. I may be back or I may not. If a case comes up, I have my cell."

"Understood. Take it easy, boss."

Gibbs moved away toward the elevators and Tim let his gaze drift down the list on the paper in front of him, murmuring a few titles under his breath. With each one, his eyebrows went up another notch, in perfect synch with his amazement.

" ' I Can Be Your Hero, If You Are Not Mine, Never Gonna Give You Up, To Make You Feel My Love...' Oh, Boss... I hope I know who this is for. God help both of you if it isn't... or if it doesn't work."

His expression grim and sober, McGee sent up a hopeful prayer of his own that his hunch was right and settled in to begin studying another cold case.

---------------------

SEC-NAV: TWENTY MINUTES LATER

"My God, Director... please understand that I don't doubt you for a moment... but I'll need to confirm these things for myself."

"Absolutely. I deeply appreciate your patience and attention."

"No, no... I should be thanking you for giving me a chance to avoid potential catastrophe. If all you've told me is true..." the Sec-Nav countered, rising and shaking David's hand as the other also gained his feet.

"My source is eminently trustworthy. And I did my own checking, of course."

"Of course... my Lord, I can hardly believe that Jennifer Sheppard..."

"Nor I. She has been a close family friend for quite a while. I am reluctant to accept this kind of thing about acquaintances, never mind those I know well."

"Oh dear... it's long past lunch. May I treat you to a meal? I know several fine restaurants only a few minutes drive from here."

"I would be honored. Discussing such topics can leave the atmosphere of a room decidedly... heavy. It makes one eager to escape."

"I totally agree."

As the men left and moved into the outer office, David split off to the men's room and his colleague stopped to speak to his secretary. "I won't be back this afternoon, Marci... or, most likely, all of tomorrow. Re-schedule anything on my calendar and make appropriate apologies for the delays. Oh and call my driver. Tell him to meet me in the usual spot."

"Done, sir."

----------------------

ONE HOUR LATER: GIBBS' CAR

Pulling quickly and expertly to the curb in front of the enormous building, Jethro retrieved his cell and dialed a long number.

"Fornell. Talk to me."

"Tobias."

"Gibbs? How the hell did you ever get this number?! Nobody's supposed to have this number..."

"Why do you bother to ask useless questions?"

"Because I keep hoping someday I'll get a straight answer outta you?"

"Keep hoping. Take the rest of the afternoon off."

"Give me a reason. And it better be a damn good one."

Gibbs sighed and when he spoke again his usual authority and confidence were absent from his voice. Fornell went into a mild state of shock, but chose to listen instead of interrupting with more questions.

"I asked you to. I need my best friend right now, Toby."

Fornell's surprise deepened and he found he had to swallow forcefully in order to reply.

"You... God in heaven, Jethro, you haven't called me that name since... what the hell is going on with you?"

"Come take a ride with me and I'll tell you. I'm parked across the street."

Fornell hesitated for a long moment, the phone gripped tightly in his hand. He clearly remembered the last time Gibbs had used the nickname in his presence. It had led to a few harrowing, emotionally enervating days spent in the home of the NCIS coroner, suffering with Gibbs while he worked through the devastation and excruciating pain of losing his daughter and his first wife. For Gibbs to call him Toby now meant that the situation was of equal importance and he had to respond, no matter what else might be happening or what swing dance moves the possibilities were making his stomach do. Ten minutes later he was standing at the driver's side window of Gibbs' car.

"Jethro."

"Get in?"

"You're asking?"

"I'd really like it... but I can't force you."

"Whatever it is it's bad, right?"

"Part of it. The rest could've been, but... damn it, Toby, I'm not doin' this for the whole world to hear..."

"Okay. I hear you." Fornell replied, moving around the car and sliding into the passenger side. He buckled his belt, cinched it tightly and turned to watch Gibbs rolling up his window. "Well? Go on."

Gibbs grimaced, checked the street and pulled out into traffic.

"You'll never believe it, and it sounds stupid no matter how often I say it or think about it... but it all started with a party..."

-----------------------

BETHESDA:

The examination was long over and Brad long gone, leaving abject apologies in his wake, but Lewiston was still fighting to get Tony to speak two consecutive words. Curled into a fetal ball, swathed in blankets and cradling Bert in one arm, the young man looked and acted like a child who'd just survived a car accident or a plane crash instead of an adult who'd endured a simple physical. Lewiston empathized with the fear his patient had suffered, but he felt it was his obligation to help Tony get back closer to his normal reactions, so he persisted.

"Tony?"

"That's my name. After today I may change it and go on the lam to escape that sadist who calls himself my doctor... but for now, I'm still Tony. Talk fast before I become someone else..."

"Thank God, the stethoscope didn't suck out the language center of your brain. I was so worried."

"Ha-ha. If you were thinking about amateur night at the comedy club... don't bother."

"I actually did that once. I did pretty well, according to the owner. I didn't get anything thrown at me, at least."

"I don't have to do that again, before I leave do I?"

"Absolutely not. Even if Brad asked, the way you've reacted... I'd have to say no."

"I wasn't trying to give him that hard a time... I couldn't help it. The needle freaked me out so much... and I just wasn't able to shake the anxiety after that. I still can't."

"Bert isn't helping?"

"Yeah... he is. Some. Thinking about Abby giving him up is doing more good than anything. She's really upset. She wants... needs me home. I need to be there for her."

"Let's talk about that. I'd like to set up the group session for day after tomorrow. Then, depending on how well it all goes, you should be able to get out of here the following day."

Tony slowly sat up, still clutching the hippo.

"Too soon."

"I don't think so. I keep telling you, you're doing extremely well. As I said, out-patient therapy will continue the work we've started, but once you and your colleagues talk things out... I really think you'll be ready to go home."

Tony thought for a long time, a frown coming and going as he worked through various things in his head. Finally he looked up and spoke.

"Well... I know this is a lot to ask and your schedule probably won't let you do it... but can I have all your time tomorrow? The whole day, breakfast to dinner."

"Of course you can have it. My schedule of appointments is actually very light. I have a couple of meetings, but I'll take any excuse to get out of those. The whole day is yours."

"Okay. Thanks. Can... can we go sit in what's left of the sun for a while?"

"Whatever you need."

***

90 MINUTES LATER: A PARKING LOT NEAR THE WATER

Leaning heavily back against the front bumper of his car, Gibbs shifted his hips, changing position slightly, and took another pull on the cup of coffee in his hand. He knew his knees wouldn't let him stay on the ground much longer, not if he wanted to get up again, but he wasn't ready to give in to the demands of his traitorous bones just yet. He had just finished his story with a bombshell and he was determined to stay right where he was until he got a response from the man sitting next to him. He'd been waiting several minutes, however, so he drove a careful elbow into Fornell's ribs to hurry him along.

"What?!"

"I'm waiting."

"You expecting anger? Disgust, maybe? Go somewhere else. Hell... I've known for years, Ro. The day he joined up with NCIS, you met me for a beer after work and I knew you'd been shocked outta your shoes by something. You kept your own counsel, though, like you usually do. I had no clue what'd shaken you up 'till the first day I walked in the office an' saw DiNozzo. I caught you lookin' at him when you didn't think anybody else was payin' attention... a little smile, curiosity sparking in your eyes and ' I want ' written all over your face. Just the way you used to look at Shannon when she said something really insightful or did something that made you especially proud. I knew what it meant if Tony'd earned that... earned what you hadn't given anybody since your first and only love died. I also knew you'd never take the chance on getting your heart ripped out again. At least that's what I thought... but I hope I'm wrong. Am I?"

Gibbs sighed and dropped his head back, thumping it gently on the car.

"I don't know. Just telling you... saying the words out loud felt so damn right."

"But you're not sure you can say it to him."

"Yeah, I can. The issue... is should I? I want this news to make Tony happy, not freak him out and add more stress to the load he's already carrying. I couldn't stand knowing I was responsible for that..."

"What's his doctor been telling you?"

"Lewiston says he's doing a lot better... that he's come a long way from where he started."

"You trust the guy?"

"Absolutely. I trusted him the first time we talked, and you know I don't do that. Ever."

"True..."

"You were right, Toby... about the other three. I never loved a damn one of them. I couldn't. You can't love and be terrified at the same time. It... it came out as me being distant and angry and a workaholic, but the bottom line was fear. I couldn't get too close just in case..."

"If you really want Tony, you're gonna have to fix that. The chance of losing him..."

"I know." Gibbs interrupted sharply, suddenly unwilling to hear that particular piece of truth.

"You do want him. You love him, yeah? That's what all this jawing's been about?"

"I love him."

"Then do what you're best at, damn it. Make a plan and execute it."

Gibbs grunted, tossed the remnants of his cold coffee away from him and dropped his chin back down to his chest.

"We've both got so much shit to slog through just to get to each other..."

"Not quite."

Gibbs looked up at his friend, confused.

"Come again?"

"DiNozzo's got a two week head start on you."

"You're saying... I can't do that, Toby. Some of the stuff I've seen and been through... nobody should have to hear that."

"Were you lyin' when you said you trust this Lewiston?"

"No, but..."

"And he works with military patients all the time, right?"

"Right..."

"Then I doubt anything you tell him will overload his circuits."

"But..."

"But nothin', Ro." Fornell cut him off. "I've been tryin' to get you to do this for a long damn time. Now it's put up or shut up. DiNozzo's worth it and he deserves it. So do you."

Fornell slowly made his way back to his feet then held out a hand to assist Gibbs. The other man stared at the offering for a long moment before accepting the help. Once he'd dusted off his clothes, Gibbs transferred the stare to his companion.

"I tried it once. About a year after Shannon. I sat there for an hour... and I couldn't talk. I just couldn't say anything. I never went back."

"You had no reason to... nobody that needed you to stay and tough it out. This time is different. You'll be doing it for yourself... but it'll be for him, too."

"Why do you sound as if you know what you're talking about?"

"Come take a ride with me... and I'll tell you."

Gibbs grinned faintly and unlocked the car.

"Okay, but we're stopping for more coffee."

As he slid back into the passenger's seat, Fornell grimaced.

"The first thing you need to get help with is your caffeine addiction..."

-------------------------

NCIS MORGUE: 5:15 P.M.

Ducky was just finishing his going-home tidying ritual in the enormous main room when the entrance doors sighed open, announcing someone's arrival. He turned from his task with a joyous greeting on his lips, hoping his visitor was Abby or perhaps Jimmy. That hope was dashed, but seeing who it actually was drove all other thoughts from his mind.

"Jennifer? Good Lord, you look terrible." He exclaimed, rushing to meet her. She took a step back, almost seeming afraid of him, and gazed up momentarily at the security camera. Confused, Ducky halted and spoke to her again. "Jennifer?"

"What... what is this?" she asked, holding out a sheaf of papers which began to visibly shake, causing her to frown and drop the hand down to her side. Ducky took one step forward and was mildly relieved to see her hold her ground.

"What has happened to you, Jenny? You look as if you're about to collapse..."

"I'm fine. Will you please explain these?"

Ducky briefly looked down to the papers she held and abruptly realized what she was talking about.

"Oh... yes, of course. Well, they're precisely what they seem to be."

"You can't."

"On the contrary, I certainly can. I must. It's long past time, as a matter of fact."

"You're the best in the country. I can't lose you."

"One of the best, perhaps. I've a good friend out in Las Vegas who'd give anyone a run for their money..."

"Ducky! Stay on topic for once, please?"

"I'm sorry, my dear, I believed I was. As to the subject of my retirement, all the relevant details are in the paperwork. It's already a "done deal" as they say."

"Why? I thought you loved your work?"

"I do. It's just that... the truth is my priorities have changed. I've been considering this for quite a while, but just recently something nudged me into finally making a decision."

"You'll have to stay until a replacement can be found..."

"That's already taken care of. Gerald is more than ready to come back to work and the upper echelons had no problem with his appointment when I proposed the idea... Jenny, please come and sit down. You really don't look well."

"No. I told you I'm perfectly fine. So there's nothing I can say to change your mind?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Alright. Thank you for indulging my questions, Ducky. I'll approve your papers in the morning and send them right out."

"Jennifer..." Ducky began, but Sheppard had already turned, albeit unsteadily, and made her escape. After a few painful moments of uncertainty, the coroner rushed back and picked up the phone.

"Jethro? Would you mind letting me in on what the bloody hell is going on with Jennifer?!"

----------------------

ONE HOUR LATER: TIM'S APARTMENT

Deeply engrossed in finding and retrieving the songs Gibbs had requested, Tim was only peripherally aware of Abby moving around restlessly behind him. Sighing in frustration, she stalked up behind him and smacked him between his shoulder blades with considerable force.

"Hey!"

"We had a date to go bowling, Timmy."

"I know. I'm sorry, but I have to finish this first."

"Finish what? What are you downloading?"

"Music. Somebody at work wanted a CD burned and they're willing to pay me back what I spend. Maybe even a little extra if it comes out well, so this has to take priority right now."

Abby dropped into a chair close to Tim and casually reached out to pick up the list of songs. Her reaction was much the same as his had been earlier.

"Whoa. Whoever it is, they are seriously, deeply in... love. Oh... my God. McGee, this..."

"I know whose handwriting it is, Abs. I was there when he gave it to me."

Abby suddenly beamed a smile that lit up the entire room and started bouncing in her seat.

"So he's finally ready to say it? He's gonna tell him?"

"I really hope so. I've been praying off and on all afternoon that he will. But until or unless it happens, you can't say a word. Promise me."

"Tim..."

"Promise me, Abby, right this minute. I swore to Gibbs that nobody would find out. He's starting to really believe in me and I can't let him down..."

"Timmy, it's okay. My lips are sealed, I swear." She vowed, touching his face gently. "I'd never sabotage you like that... not when things are going so good."

"Yeah... I know that."

"You need to have as much faith in yourself as Gibbs has in you. He sees a potential super-agent, Timmy, and so do I. Why can't you?"

"You know why. I'm trying, I seriously am. It's gonna take time..."

"We're staying in tonight."

"No. This won't take that much longer then we can go bowling like we planned..."

"Bowling tomorrow. Comfort and cuddle-time tonight. Now let's get back to work on the music. This is a long list... think you should split it onto two disks?"

Tim gazed deeply into her eyes, smiled and kissed her softly before replying.

"Great idea."

***

EARLY THE FOLLOWING MORNING:

As he drove into work, Gibbs fought to keep from staring at the passenger seat one more time. He'd dropped his cell phone there, thinking that 'out of sight, out of mind' would be as effective as it had always been, but his treacherous thoughts refused to allow that or any of his usual evasion tactics to succeed. Even though dawn had barely arrived and he could hardly see the seat, never mind the phone, his brain knew the device was there and his conscience incessantly reminded him of the decision he'd come to after talking with Fornell the previous day. Snarling under his breath, Gibbs tugged on the steering wheel and pulled the car in close to the nearest curb. Shutting the engine down, he flipped the switch to activate the interior lights, grabbed the phone, dialed and slapped the small metal square against his ear.

"Dennis Lewiston. Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Yeah... yeah, it's, uh... it's me."

"Jethro. Good to hear from you."

"Surprised to hear you. I figured I'd be leaving a message and we'd meet up later or something..."

"I'm usually in this early. I need the time to look at the overnight reports on my inpatients so I can be ready if something unexpected happened when I couldn't be here. What can I do for you?"

"I... I don't know yet."

"You don't?"

"Okay, I do, but... Look, I talked to a friend yesterday... he opened my eyes to a few pieces of difficult truth... things I've been avoiding looking at for a long time."

Lewiston settled back in his desk chair, preparing for however long a conversation Gibbs might require.

"Such as?"

"Stuff to do with why my marriages all failed... along with other things. He... this friend, he's been telling me for years that unless I start meeting with somebody I trust... somebody who knows what they're talking about, nothing in my life will ever be good again... not like it used to. I think... I finally decided maybe he's right."

Lewiston pulled the receiver away from his face, released a quiet, deeply relieved breath, turned his gaze to the sky and said a brief, silent prayer of thanks before returning to his conversation.

"I can help you with that."

"Thing is, talking... it's not something I do real well."

"You did fine at the group meeting in your office. Admittedly, you didn't speak up a great deal, but I get the feeling that's just who you are. When something needs to be said, you say it. Otherwise, action and facial expression are more than enough to get your point across."

"That doesn't apply when it comes to... there are things you have to know if you're gonna straighten out any of what's twisted up inside me. Things I swore I'd never tell anybody..."

"I'm a patient man, Jethro."

"I hope to hell you are. Persistent too."

"If you genuinely want help, I'll do everything in my power to make sure you don't give up. Everything except manipulation, blackmail or force."

"Those never crossed my mind."

"You'll need to put an awful lot of trust in me."

"I left Tony in your care, didn't I? That should tell you something." Gibbs replied, breaking the connection, turning the light off and slipping the phone into his pocket. On the other end, Lewiston hung up as well, chuckling and sending up another grateful prayer before returning to his notes in preparation for his marathon session with Tony.

----------------------

TWO HOURS LATER: DIRECTOR DAVID'S HOTEL

Expertly flipping open his napkin and spreading it in his lap, David gazed skeptically at the man seated across from him.

"I was aware of a... I hesitate to call it a relationship, but I suppose that is what they consider it. It is extremely difficult for me to believe, however, that my... that Ziva could or would lower herself in such a manner. In fact... it is almost inconceivable." He said, turning his eyes momentarily toward the folder sitting on his companion's side of the table and then refocusing on his breakfast.

"I spent a good part of the night finding and retrieving this." The SecNav explained, laying one hand beside, but not actually on the manila folder, his expression clearly telegraphing that he considered the mere contents too unclean to touch. "I nearly failed in the attempt, but my position as her superior finally convinced them. This... I resisted understanding the implications at first, but eventually I had to accept... You say you were aware that the two of them were involved?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Many times I have considered expressing my opinion to Ziva... making it known, in no uncertain terms, how wrong I believed it to be... but she is grown, now. My influence over her is much more limited than it was when she was a child."

"Then how do you plan to execute this today if she won't listen?"

"I said limited... not vanished altogether. She will respond to what I am telling her. If you don't mind... I will keep my own counsel on the method I will employ."

"Of course, of course. My apologies if it seemed as if I was prying..."

"No, no. It is not that I wish to hide anything from you. I simply think she will be easier to handle if she is surprised... if you know nothing, she cannot detect it in your eyes or manner and I have a far greater chance of success."

"Of course, I completely understand. You know, I tried to come up with another explanation for these pictures and the medical report, but if they really were in an exclusive relationship..."

"I believe that to be true."

"Then Ziva must be the one who did this... dear God."

"A wise thing, appealing to him in crisis. I think, just perhaps, he is the only one who may be able to save my daughter now. Please, eat. Confronting Jennifer will not be an easy task. You will need all the strength you can muster."

"Hmm? Oh... oh yes. Thank you..."

Reluctantly, the SecNav turned to his own meal, slowly beginning to eat, despite the fact that his appetite had utterly deserted him.

Half an hour later, David was finished and sipping the last of his coffee and the other man had barely eaten half of his small meal. The Israeli heaved a resigned sigh and smiled.

"You are disturbed. I understand. Let me pay the bill and we will go. Perhaps it is better to see to this distasteful task sooner rather than later."

"I was hoping you'd say that. But we share the check?"

"As you wish."

Soon the pair were back in the SecNav's limo and heading for NCIS.

"My wish... if I had my wish none of this would be happening. I'll have to let her know what I've discovered... remove her from her position. She won't make it easy on me."

"What is your famous phrase... if wishes were horses, even beggars would ride? I am currently longing for the ability to go back in time and safeguard Ziva from all the experiences that led her to this point... but I must face that it is not possible."

"In your area of the world children see and learn things no-one, even adults, should ever have to."

"Indeed. I will make it a prayer, then... for all those who have their innocence stripped from them long before they are even aware they possess it."

The SecNav nodded slowly, staring out the window. The rest of the forty-five minute ride passed in heavy silence. It wasn't until they'd made it through NCIS security and were gliding upward in the elevator that either man spoke again. "You will not call and let her know you are coming, hmmm?"

"At the right time... yes. I'm afraid I know what she'll do if she's allowed too much advance notice. Despite her recent aberrant behavior, she was a top agent once and I'm sure she still possesses escape and evasion skills. I want her to get the help she needs, not run away and force a search."

"Very true. If only Ziva would make it so easy as to run from me. Another futile wish..."

As the men stepped out of the elevator and headed toward the stairs, the SecNav placed a cautionary hand on David's arm to halt him and finally pulled out his cell-phone.

"Jennifer?"

"Mister Secretary. How nice to hear from you."

"I'm on my way up to see you. We need to talk."

"Oh..."

"Is there a problem?"

"No. No problem."

"You sound upset."

"Upset? No, not at all. I'm fine."

"Good. I'll be in your office in about fifteen minutes, then."

"I... I'll be waiting."

"Good-bye, Jen."

"Sir."

Beginning to tremble, Sheppard let the receiver drop back into its cradle then rose, snatched her purse and coat and hurried into the outer office, startling Cynthia.

"Director? Is anything wrong?"

"Not really... there's an emergency and I have to go. I'll call later about tomorrow's schedule, alright?" Jen responded breathlessly, rushing out before the younger woman could ask any more questions or delay her flight any further. Halfway down the stairs, however, her headlong rush was stalled by a much more formidable obstacle than her assistant; the two men awaiting her at the bottom. "Sir, I thought... you told me..."

"I know. A necessary deception, I'm afraid. Please, join me down here, Jennifer."

"Of course..." she replied hesitantly, moving down to the floor one slow, cautious step at a time. "I don't understand this, Mister Secretary. What's going on?"

"I'll tell you everything in a moment. Let's go find somewhere a little more private, shall we?"

A confused frown creasing her brow, Sheppard finally looked away from the SecNav and focused on the other man. Her heart seemed to stutter in her chest and she instantly paled when she recognized him.

"No..."

"Jennifer, don't, please. Not here. The whole of NCIS doesn't need to hear this discussion." Her superior reminded her, leading her to the nearest conference room and shutting the door behind the three of them. David stayed by the door, determined not to interfere unless he felt there was absolutely no other option. The SecNav dropped into a chair and waved at the one across from him. "Sit."

"This is beginning to feel like an interrogation." Sheppard replied stiffly

"I don't want it to devolve into that. I just really need to ask you about some things I've learned recently. It could take a while... and you'll be more comfortable if you sit."

Jen paused for a minute or two, but eventually she sank into the indicated chair, her eyes fixed rigidly on her boss.

"Go ahead. What is it you think I can tell you?"

"Firstly... I'd like to be sure that you still consider me a friend. On a personal, not work level."

"Of course I do."

"Good. Then why didn't you feel you could turn to me when you got into such deep trouble?"

"Trouble? I'm not in trouble, Edward."

Looking down at his hands, he grimaced then laid the file on the table between them. "What is that?"

"Your medical record... from the trip you took to the emergency room recently."

"You can't... that's not possible."

"For a man with my influence, anything is possible. And don't you mean 'what trip to the ER' ?

Sheppard gaped for a moment, then closed her mouth decisively. "Please answer me, Jennifer. Why didn't you come to me when it got this bad?" he repeated, slapping the folder.

"Nothing's wrong. You don't understand... you couldn't possibly comprehend the depth of... of what we have." Jen replied quietly, rising to her feet and pacing away, her back turned to both men.

"So you're admitting that you consented to be abused this way?"

"Abuse? No!" Jen shouted, whirling back around. "I knew you wouldn't be able to see the truth... Didn't your father or mother ever spank you?"

"When I was a child, yes... once or twice."

"She's my mother, now, Edward... and I'm her child. She teaches me and like any student, when I make a mistake... she corrects me. I cause problems, I say the wrong thing, I fail when she gives me instructions... I haven't learned my place yet, so sometimes... the correction has to be harsh."

"Jennifer... dear Lord, can you hear yourself? Are you even really listening? It appears there's been more than one sort of abuse going on. I can't let this continue. You and I are leaving here together today... right now, as a matter of fact."

"You can't be serious. I have a full day of work..."

"No. You don't. Not here."

"Edward..."

"I'm sorry, but I won't accept any arguments or rationalizations, Jenny. You're going to get help and you're going to get away from her."

Abruptly losing even more color, Jen took a single, unsteady step backward and Sheffield moved to support her, afraid she was about to collapse. She wouldn't allow him to touch her, however.

"No!" she responded in a husky shout. "No, I won't. Ziva... I depend on her. I need her, can't you see that?! I'll die if you separate us!"

"You won't... I promise you. I'll make sure of that, but you have to trust me..."

"I only trust mistress, that's the first rule. Only trust her... no-one else."

Heaving a frustrated, sorrowful sigh, Sheffield used the one weapon he was hoping he wouldn't have to.

"You don't have a choice, Jennifer. Director David is taking her home with him. She won't be coming back... she won't ever hurt you again."

Without warning Sheppard seemed to regain her equilibrium and rushed for the door. The SecNav snagged her around the waist and prevented her from going any farther. David took a step toward them, his expression deeply concerned.

"Do you need help?"

"No. I can handle this. Please, just go get Ziva out of here..."

"Yes... of course. I realize my apology can never be enough..."

"This wasn't your fault, I understand that. Go..."

David nodded, retrieved the medical file and left the room. It took him only a few minutes to make it to the bullpen and Ziva's reaction at his appearance was what he'd been expecting. Gibbs, however looked equally as shocked, confirming for the Director what an accomplished undercover agent the man must once have been. When Gibbs rose to confront the supposed "stranger" in their midst, David played along.

"Can I help you?"

"Director Aviel David."

"Ziva's father. Good to meet you. Special Agent Jethro Gibbs." he said, briefly shaking the hand David offered. "What can we do for you?"

"Give me a moment of privacy with my daughter, if you would."

"Of course. McGee, let's go."

"No." Ziva demanded, staring up at the man towering over her. "If you have something to say to me... they can hear it."

"Indeed." He replied, laying the file on her desk. "I would think this is something you would not want anyone to know about... most especially your colleagues."

Ziva marginally opened the file to peek at what was inside. When she saw the photograph of Sheppard's injuries, the young woman slammed the folder shut again before Gibbs or Tim could see and glared daggers up at her impassive father.

"My life is my business. You have no right..."

"But, I do. Not only as your father, but as one who has always sought justice on behalf of those who cannot... or will not seek it for themselves."

"Father..."

"On your feet. Now."

Her face radiating contempt and fury, Ziva slowly rose out of her chair. "Empty your pockets and leave everything on the desk."

"I am a woman, not a little girl! You cannot simply stride into my world... my world, and act as if you still control me! I do not bend to your orders any longer!"

"No? Let us find out how true that is." He countered, grabbing for the folder. She slapped her hand on it, keeping it where it was. After a long moment of simply staring into his eyes, Ziva finally realized he hadn't changed; he would stand in her path for eternity if necessary, patiently waiting until she gave in. Finally, she lowered her eyes and hissed her capitulation.

"Alright..."

"Wise as always, little one. Pockets."

Only when everything she carried was on display did her father smile and speak to Gibbs.

"Agent Gibbs, is it? If you would collect these items and the file, please?"

"Father, no!"

"Is this further defiance I hear? Have you been away so long that you forget the meaning of my name?"

"No."

"Then tell me."

"Aviel... my father is God."

"Where you are concerned, yes I am, and at this moment God is not feeling particularly merciful. Will you force my hand? It is, ultimately, your decision, but you should know that unlike God in heaven I am perfectly willing to walk away, with never a backward glance or a second thought... leaving you to suffer the consequences of your sins alone."

"What do you want?"

"You already know that. I told you during our last conversation."

"I don't want to."

"Understandable. But you will." He said, confidently holding out his arm in invitation. Her face now a rigid mask, Ziva stepped out from behind the desk. "Agent Gibbs. I am afraid my daughter has been... let us just say wicked and leave it at that, shall we? Because of this, I am taking her back to Israel and she will not be returning."

"The SecNav knows about this?"

"He does. At the moment he is in one of your conference rooms dealing with the other side of this unfortunate tragedy. The file... well, it is up to you if you choose to examine its contents. It may help you understand what you find in the room with your Secretary of the Navy... or it may not. Personally, I believe it will take a very long time and a good deal of fervent prayer before I understand, if I ever do. Thank you for your indulgence. Good day."

Gibbs watched David stroll away toward the elevator, Ziva tucked close to his side, then grabbed McGee and hustled him off to find the SecNav and help him clean up whatever mess he had been left with.

***

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