SquidgeWorld Archive

Chapter Text

Part 1

Agent Frenz ducked to the side and headed towards the stairs as he heard the door guards greet Agent Gibbs and Dr. Mallard. The walk would do him some good and it was a well-known fact that Gibbs was touchy about anyone besides his team coming into close contact with the coroner since the stabbing incident. It wasn't worth the pound of flesh the agent would collect, metaphorical or otherwise. One of the second floor secretaries, a graduate student intern turned employee if he remembered correctly, fast-walked away from the elevator and joined him in the stairwell as she slipped inside just before the door closed.

"Not going to chance it, then?" Frenz winked. He didn't know anyone who would.

She grinned and lifted one hand from her stack of files to sweep back the braid that had fallen over her shoulder. "Nah. Over-protective alpha is sweet from a distance or as the one under the protection. We outsiders should mind our place."

Fidgeting a moment, Frenz nodded to himself before reaching out towards the files. "You don't find it odd then? The…" He trailed off while waving his hand about, trying to grasp what he meant and missing.

Laughing, she shook her head and dumped the stack of files into his waiting arms. "I'll take you up on the offer of help and say why if..." She paused and pointed at the stairs. "We start walking. I'm not being late over office talk."

"Scuttlebutt you mean." He tucked the files under his arm and turned to the stairs, taking the outside track.

"Gossip is repeating things," she hissed, stressing the soft syllables of the word. "Talk is your own recollections and assessments of something. If you want the gossip, then go find Laura and give me back my files."

Frowning, Frenz raised his free hand as if to say ‘not me' and stepped back further into the offside. "Explanation accepted and I'll take your talking over what's her name's gossip, if I might."

"Oh, good. And you may, but first...names." Raising a hand, she wiggled her fingers in the parody of a wave. "Sharon Shrise."

Waving his own already raised hand, Frenz nodded. "Alec Frenz."

"Pleasure to meet you Frenz, and as to all that..." She motioned towards the bottom of the stairwell. "I think it's sweet. Reminds me of my Papa. He was a Navy man too and no one and nothing he didn't trust got within distance of those he saw as his, blood or not. He wouldn't have to say a word. He'd just get this look in his eye and take this stance that seemed to warn off everyone who was bothering what was his. And gods forbid one of us actually gets hurt. We're wrapped in cotton and stuffed in a padded box for weeks, metaphorically of course." She chuckled while shaking her head. "Have to bite my lip to keep from giggling every time I see them come in, especially since the whole Incident."

He nodded. "Guess I could look at it that way. Makes sense. I suppose I've been listening to too much gossip." He winked and mimicked the way she'd stressed the word.

"Us talkers aren't too keen on gossipers." She laughed, smiling. "And this is my landing, so hand over those files. It's been ever so kind of you to walk me up." Her lips twitched as a smirk threatened. "But we both have work to do and my boss is an old stickler about anything he sees as feminine and helpful men count unfortunately."

Frenz handed over the files with a mock of a bow. "I hope coffee breaks aren't included in this?"

Sharon scoffed. "Of course not. It's the government. They practically write it in our contracts."

"Then I'll look forward to seeing you here at one." And with a last wave and smile, he ducked through the doors and headed towards his own office space.

Chuckling, Sharon headed for her desk and the rest of her waiting paperwork. The date she seemed to have stumbled into would be a welcome reprieve.

*~*~*

Ducky clucked softly as he saw first a younger agent and then one of the office staff dodge the elevator and turn towards the stairs at the mere and overly loud mention of Jethro and his name by the guard. Truthfully, the young fellow wasn't being all that subtle in his warnings, but then considering the last staff member who'd made the mistake of joining them for a ride had left in tears, it wasn't all that surprising. The poor boy. His questions had been intrusive, yes, but they'd been fueled more by curiosity than ill intent. A fact that hadn't saved him from Leroy's wrath.

A warm, heavy hand came to rest on his shoulder and propelled him forward.

"You okay, Ducky?"

"Of course, Jethro. I was just noting how the elevator remains miraculously clear for our morning arrival."

"Smart people, Duck. Smart people." Smirking, Gibbs strode forward, guiding them both into the elevator.

Once the door had slid shut, Ducky raised his own hand and laid it atop the one resting on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. "Really though, Leroy, it's been weeks. I don't believe anyone would dare chance your wrath to ask me about any of it. Especially after that one lad."

"I know." Stepping forward, Lee hit the emergency stop button, claiming his conference room. "Donald, I don't need to warn them off anymore." He smirked and tightened his grip. "But they're trained now. Why shouldn't I take advantage of that and keep our mornings?" He pressed forward, moving into the older man's space. "I thought you did as well?"

Raising his free hand, Don lightly stroked Lee's neck before cupping his cheek. "Uncertainty, feigned as it is, doesn't become you, my dear."

Smirk widening into a full-fledged grin, Lee crowded closer, claiming a kiss. His hand moved from Don's shoulder to his waist as Don moved to grip the back of his neck. Their grips were hard, just shy of bruising, a counterpoint to the gentleness of the kiss. They backed it off slowly, ending the kiss by degrees as they remained tightly in each other's hold.

Resting his forehead against Lee's shoulder, Don sighed quietly, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "I deem myself convinced of the benefits of that second ‘B' you utilize so well."

"That's what I thought."

"Self-assurance, Leroy, is much preferred to an exhibit of smugness this morning," admonished Don, but any censure was ruined by the amusement edging his voice.

"Is there any difference, Donald?" Shifting backwards, Leroy released his grip with a last squeeze and pressed a quick kiss to his lover's forehead as Don released his hold as well. A light smack to the switch and the elevator was once more operational and headed to autopsy.

"Some days, Lee, I'm not so sure." The ding of the elevator as it stopped had him brushing lightly at his shirt and righting the lay of his jacket. Patting his companion on the cheek, Don left the elevator with his normal smooth stride. "I expect I'll be seeing you for lunch, Jethro, if something doesn't come up, that is."

"Of course, Ducky." With a wave and a flash of a smile, NCIS' top agent hit the button for his floor, keeping a watch on the retreating figure until the doors slid closed.

*~*~*

Peeling off his jacket, Ducky hung it up on the coat rack with his hat and pulled on his white, lab coat. His hands automatically smoothed down its sides as he wandered about the lab flicking on lights, fixing the placement of tools, and checking to see if he'd acquired any new occupants in his absence. A quick glance at the clock showed he should have at least another half-hour before Mr. Palmer arrived. He smiled. Lee had been much better lately about coming into work at a more normal hour in order to remain home a bit longer. Not that the children, except possibly Tony, had caught on yet. Then again, their dear boy had the horrible habit of being just as obsessed as Jethro when it came to work. A fact which had been reassuring once they had gotten him off of the alcohol. He'd been a right brat when he had come back from that little escapade shipside. The lack of intriguing work had been as dangerous to their boy as the isolation. His bitterness at and lack of connection to the other children outside of Abby was still a concern. Eventually though he would be able to reassert himself and his work demeanor should straighten out. Either that or Jethro would bring him down for a talk. His patience could only hold out for so long.

Scratching at his chin, Ducky abandoned his worries for another time. He should just be able to finish checking the office emails before Mr. Palmer arrived. Booting up the system, he typed in his id and password and clicked on the icon Timothy had set up for him. Unlike his lover, he could have managed finding it on his own without threatening violence, but it was still sweet of the boy to set it up for him.

Deleting the random spam mails that seemed to pass through the system for some reason, he turned his attention to the actual mail. An office baby shower for one of the secretaries, new minor policies that didn't affect his work, and notices from various agents were quickly dealt with and either logged in the appropriate file or deleted. An email from his protégé's university alerted him to the fact that Mr. Palmer would be up for graduation by the end of the summer. He'd have to start looking for job postings for the boy. Of course it would be nice if he remained, but the newest of their children shouldn't be left thinking that they were his only option. Mr. Palmer could do quite well for himself at any posting he chose. Jotting a quick note to Jethro about the upcoming event for one of theirs, he hit send before returning to the rest of the mail.

Older new messages had scrolled up as the others were deleted and moved. One from the Director's office bore a red flag, marking it as urgent. Clicking it open, Ducky scanned through it and his mouth twisted into a frown. The more he read, the more pronounced the wrinkles of his brow became. A shiver ran through him as he closed out the mail program, his thoughts still tied up in Director Vance's letter. The tone had been too sharp and the length too great for the congenial meeting that was supposedly wanted. The Director had an agenda, one that he didn't want proof of. Shaking his head, Ducky pushed away from the desk and headed towards the door. Or possibly he was simply too paranoid after what had happened. Pausing in the entryway, he looked back at the desk and then again towards the elevator. It shouldn't be needed. It'd be feeding his residual paranoia from the meeting, but it couldn't hurt and it'd be recorded over at the next autopsy. Releasing his grip on the door, he strode back over to his desk and yanked out the recorder he used for autopsies and tucked it into a jacket pocket after turning it on. It would surely prove unnecessary.

*~*~*

Hearing the elevator, Tony tucked his book under his paperwork, figuring it would be Gibbs and his coffee. Despite its historical nature, the book wouldn't count as work. It wasn't even six, which meant too early for the others to be there without an active case. Ziva was most likely on the tail-end of her morning jog and McGee was probably leading his troops into digital battle.

"And what has you so amused, my boy?"

"No Gibbs, Ducky?"

"At the moment, no. I imagine he's still in line at the coffee shop…getting his second in-store refill," responded the older man, amusement couched in the wry tone. "And your entertainment this morning?"

Shifting his stack of papers, Tony revealed the title, "The Ultimate Sex Book."

Frowning, Ducky shook his head, his voice strained. "Anthony. The real one, if you please."

Ducking his head with a shy smile, Tony peeled back the dust cover and revealed the real title, 'Profiling Violent Crimes: An Investigative Tool.'

"An admirable choice. I'll see if we can't come up with some others to supplement it." Perching on the edge of the desk, Ducky watched his and Jethro's protégé trail his hand down the false cover. "This won't help your situation with the others."

"They wouldn't believe the truth of me anyway."

"You're not giving them the choice to. It's a disservice to the team, my—" A bitter laugh interrupted him. Laying a hand on Tony's shoulder, Ducky squeezed lightly before continuing. "As I was saying, it's also a great disservice to you and your ability, my boy. One, Jethro won't put up with for much longer. Keep the mask if you must, but at least re-craft it so it doesn't bury your own contributions and ability. I dare say, things would improve if you did."

With a last pat, he pushed off the desk and turned for the stairs. "She's not a threat to your place, Tony. Not with us."

An easing of the tense shoulders and a slight smile were the elder's reward for the soft-spoken, reassurance. "We on for a Saturday family dinner this week, Ducky? Work allowing anyway."

"Of course. Jethro can knock some rust off the grill." The resident mother-hen of their group paused before adding, "And a team dinner later in the month, which you'll attend."

Tony's mouth firmed, a static line of displeasure before he shrugged and settled with a half-smile that conveyed his surrender. "Fine and I'll let Abby and Jimmy know about Saturday."

Ducky tipped his chin. "And I'll inform, Jethro."

*~*~*

A sharp ‘Come in' answered Ducky's light tap on the door. Stepping into the room, he calmly watched the NCIS Director. There was a sense of unease to the man. He was looking to the side instead of holding to his normal direct manner. Their conversation, if Director Vance was any indication, was not to be a pleasant one. Patting lightly at his pockets, Ducky arranged himself in the chair placed directly in front of the desk and settled in to wait. "Good morning, Director."

"Dr. Mallard." Vance shifted in his seat, angling his body towards the side wall and away from his memorabilia. His toothpick wiggled up and down as he played with it. Finally, he settled and stillness fell on the room. "There have been some concerns voiced over the debacle with your old acquaintance."

"I thought those had been addressed when the young lady had dropped her charges."

Vance nodded while his fingers rose to tap his chin. "Those had, but it has since come to my attention that there are other issues stemming from the investigation itself. They're drawing attention to our department, negative attention we don't need nor want. It could come to interfere with our business and that above all is why I asked you here."

"And what issues might cause such interference?"

Folding his hands together atop his desk, Vance straightened in his seat, giving Ducky his full attention. "Questions, Dr. Mallard. Questions about our ability to watch our own. You're not the first NCIS Agent in this very building to be accused of murder. It's an embarrassment to this agency, to us all." To me hung in the air between them. Vance allowed the silence to play out before continuing. "The integrity of our agents, especially those who acted in this instance is being called into question. This was not a case, Dr. Mallard. It was an exercise in obsession and impatience. Neither of which, despite the positive outcome, are conducive to our cause."

"Is not the truth our cause?" Ducky interjected quietly. These ‘questions' as Vance called them weren't the issue. It was control and a lack of it that guided this little tete-tat.

"Whatever is necessary to succeed in the goals set before us is our cause, Dr. Mallard. We each have our parts to play in that goal."

"Ah, I assume this is when you tell me mine. You know, Leon, this rather reminds me of an instance during my first internship when a young boy was brought in after tangling with a pair of escaped—" goats, he finished silently before giving the rest of his attention to Leon.

"Ducky-Dr. Mallard. That's not the point at issue here." Leaning forward, Leon shaped his face into a mock-up of sympathy. "It is believed that at this point, your tenure as an employee is no longer beneficial to this agency."

A breathy inhalation and sudden tightening of Ducky's shoulders as he stiffened his back and assumed a formal posture gave away his reaction to the insinuation of that statement. "I must assume then that I shall find my employment has been terminated."

"No!" A sharp shake of the Director's head answered his statement before a quieter, "No."

Sharp eyes watched the man before them. It wasn't a lie. But it wasn't the entirety of the answer, either. He could nearly see the words crowding behind Leon's tight clench on his toothpick. It would snap if held in much longer. But no, the release was there.

"You're records indicate that you're eligible for full retirement with all the expected benefits. It would be a waste to deny you of that when a simple set of completed forms can set things to right. It'll give you a chance to have a life outside Gibbs and his whims." A smile rolled across the director's mouth, dragging the toothpick into an upward twist.

Folding his hands in his lap, Ducky met that gaze and its salesman's smile head on. He held it and the silence until with a nod, "And when would these completed forms be due?"

"I believe April 30th would make a sufficient deadline. It would give us a chance to look into a replacement. Dr. Hampton might be suitable."

"Yes, yes. Dr. Gerald Jackson should prove sufficient as well." Pushing himself up from his chair, Ducky turned toward the door, avoiding the hand that had started to rise as if to offer a shake to seal the deal. Salesman indeed. "I assume you're prepared for the inevitable fall out?"

"I'd prefer the situation remain quiet until closer to the deadline."

Pausing in the doorway, Ducky nodded. Contrary to Leon's opinion, he and his were marvelous at subtle. But then, Leon seemed to have forgotten that it was when acting subtly that the danger was greatest.

*~*~*

Stumbling as he came off of the stairs, Ducky kept his focus on the elevator. Leroy wasn't back yet. Fifteen minutes were all that had been lost and yet, so soon were their mornings passed with watching Lee ‘reinforce his training' of the staff. The quick checks on days they'd worked a little too long or the quiet companionship as he uncovered the story of his latest visitor. Anthony coming to him with his scrapes and bruises from the job were interspersed with chats with Abby about her latest band and the anomalies and puzzles of a case. Mr. Palmer's shy inquiries and answers doled out like small gifts carefully wrapped and tended to...they would be gone, wiped from his days. Just the wait and the silence of an empty house.

A lowered voice speaking sharply drew his attention. Slowly he became aware of the arm around his waist, supporting him and the words that had pulled him back. Gibbs. They were talking to Lee. A clack as the phone was flipped closed and then worried green eyes peering down at him.

"You with me, Ducky? Donald, are you with me?"

"Yes. Of course, Anthony."

"Good. Then we should get to the conference room. The boss'll be here soon and he'll want us there. This, whatever it is, is better there. Right, Ducky?"

"Really, Anthony, I'm fine." Donald patted his son's shoulder.

"Like I'll fall for that one, Ducky. I tried for nearly five minutes to get you to respond. And that was before I called Gibbs." Punching the button, Tony smirked. "And we've been walking since you spoke and you still haven't noticed. We're waiting for the boss in his conference room."

A shudder moved up Ducky's spine as he stepped into the, no Gibbs', conference room. Soon he would have no claim to any of this. "Really, Anthony, we don't need to commandeer the elevator for this. It's just…" How to explain? This wasn't a story to make the children roll their eyes and skedaddle from the room. It was now.

"Oh, we're definitely waiting here for Gibbs. You're still drifting on me. I'd prefer not to forfeit my life today and your ‘Lee' would make sure of it if I let you go off on your own." Tony tightened his grip in a half-hug. "The elevator's already moving, Ducky. We're nearly to the entry level."

The sharp ping of the sound system called their attention to the slowly opening doors and the stormy figure outside it. Nodding, Tony gratefully surrendered his position to Lee as the doors snicked closed while whispering as they switched places. "He was fine and then he had a meeting with Vance." A sneer fell into place as he clenched his fists. "This was the result." He jerked his head towards the entrance. "I'll take the stairs back up. Fill me in, boss?"

A jerky nod answered him. Grinning, Tony gave a scout's salute and slipped out the opening doors. He'd pay for it later, but it was worth it to see the little twitch of the lips that broke through the angry-worry of the situation.

Slamming the emergency stop button, Lee turned to Don and pulled him into the lee of his side. "Donald." He rested his chin atop his lover's bowed head and waited.

Eventually the soft rustle of cloth broke the welcome silence as a digital voice recorder was held out. Plucking it from the shaking hand, Lee firmly caressed the back of the appendage with his thumb. He engaged the playback with a sure touch. He'd done this often enough for Don when he was busy. It wasn't any harder now. Just more important.

Fast forwarding through the walk up to the pen, he listened to the bit with Tony and pressed a kiss to Don's cheek when he reached the part of their boy's chastisement. He'd learn. The ease and comfort of the situation was lost however as the door to Vance's office clicked closed and Leroy found himself privy to the ‘conference.' The longer it went, the tighter his grip on his lover. He knew Don would have bruises come the afternoon, but Leroy had no intention of letting go. His Donald wasn't a piece in the game between him and Vance. Vance didn't get to change the rules and he certainly didn't get to break them.

"Forced retirement?"

"Yes."

A soft, short confirmation that was nothing like his Donald. Nodding, Lee rubbed his cheek against the silvered hair it rested on. "So, you finally going to give in and build that boat with me?"

"What!"

The swiftly raised head that followed the exclamation knocked Lee's chin, making his eyes water for a moment. "What?" he asked gruffly.

Trembling hands rose to cradle silver-haired lover's face. "I dare say that's awfully close to a proposal coming from you, Leroy."

"And if it was?"

"Then I accept, so long as you tell me how we're going to get it out of the basement.

"Power-operated door in the back wall," Lee rumbled, laughter filling the air between them as Don pulled him into a well-earned kiss.

*~*~*

Trotting up the stairs, Tony flipped open his phone and tapped Abby's button on the speed dial. Stopping midway up the flight, he waited while the phone rang. An exuberant exclamation of his name and raucous music answered.

"Tony!"

"Abby!" he returned, a smile finding purchase despite their situation.

"What's up? Not a case."

"Nah, Abbs. Wish it was."

"Tony? What's wrong?

Closing his eyes, Tony sighed. He knew that tone, the creases it would bring to her brow and the downturn of her lips. She was worried and he was about to make it worse. "Our Donald had a meeting with Vance. He was fine beforehand, but afterwards… It was like the stabbing all over again. He just wasn't bleeding."

"Tony! What happened?"

Wincing, the brunet moved the phone away from his ear. His sister could really squeal. "I don't know. Not really. I got Donald to his Lee and then I left. Jethro said he'd tell me later at the coffee shop."

"Well, you'd better call me and Jimmy as soon as you find out. Do you think Jethro will call Garrett?"

"Probably. The whole long distance foster son thing." Tony waved his hand for emphasis to an invisible audience. "And I'll do you one better. We'll do a musketeers' meet at Jimmy's after work?"

"I'll let him know we're having a meeting. How long do you think Jethro and Donald will be?"

"A while, I'd guess. At least a good twenty minutes. Ducky was really out of it and Jethro won't let him out from under his watch till he's satisfied."

"Good. Jimmy will have time to get back then."

"Abby what are you planning?"

"I'm not planning anything, Tony. I'm hosting tea. And you, mister, will come drink your cup after you put Ziva and Tim on watchdog duty upstairs to make sure it's not interrupted, even by Ziva and Tim. This is a family thing. Got me?"

Growling softly, Tony rubbed at his forehead. He could see her now. One finger pointing emphatically at the speakerphone while the other gestured in time with her words. "And if someone heads that way, what are they supposed to do? Clock them one? Because Ziva at least, probably would."

"Of course not. Don't be silly Tony. I'll do that...if it's Vance. They'll just stall. Now to work, my servant!"

"Yes, Master. Of course master. As you wish—"

"Quit it, Igor, and go brief the troops" came the snappy reply over the phone.

The click of the phone hanging up answered his laughter. Shaking his head, Tony grinned. Vance's life would be hell if he got in Abby's way today. No one hurt their Donald.

*~*~*

One hand in the center of Don's back, Jethro guided him out of the open doors of the elevator and into the corridor that led to the morgue. Voices inside the morgue caught their attention and they paused outside to listen.

"Is that tea right? You know he takes it proper, Tony."

"I got it, Abbs. Just finish Jethro's and leave me to Donald's."

"Abby!"

"What, Jimmy?"

"Abby, come here. I got the Pims, raspberry and strawberry. But I also got digestives. They sounded comforting. Does this look all right? I left the rest in the bags. I didn't want to crowd out the tea. I mean, the tea's the point, isn't it?"

A thump and a muffled ow greeted that statement.

"Abby, leave Jimmy alone. And Jimmy, what Abby meant to say with that little love tap was that family, as she so emphatically lectured while you were off buying biscuits, is the point."

Another thump. "Abby! Quit it! I'll spill the tea!"

"Well you deserved it. And don't you dare put sugar in that tea."

Laughing softly, Don leaned into Lee. "It appears we've been offered succor."

Resting a cheek against the soft hair, Lee laughed. "Entertainment more like, Don."

"Well, yes." Lightly patting Lee's cheek, Don pulled away and grasped the handle just as Tony began his answer.

"I'm not. It's going—" The snick of the door handle as the mechanism released and it swung open interrupted him. All three looked up to see the guests of honor in the doorway.

"—on the table," Tony finished with a sheepish smile and a wave for the two.

Abby spun away from the table and ran forwards to grab the two in a hug. "You're here! And just in time for hot tea!" She smiled up at Jethro. "Your timing's still perfect. We didn't have to reheat anything. Come on. Sit. Sit." Grabbing one hand from each, she dragged them over to the table and chairs the three of them had set up.

Smiling, Jimmy pulled out two of the chairs while Tony sat one cup of perfectly steeped Earl Grey in front of the seat Abby had pushed Donald into and an Abby-prepared cup of Black Tea in front of Jethro.

Jethro watched the three of them with an indulgent smirk, while Donald offered a heartfelt smile to each of his three 'children'.

"And what brought this on, my dears?"

Abby wrinkled her nose. "Tony called and said you needed cheering, so as musketeers must, we undertook our mission and hosted an early morning tea party. Ziva and McGee are playing guards and keeping everybody out so we can have our tea in peace." She looked away from Ducky and mock-glared at Jethro. "And, Jethro, you are drinking Tea. Not coffee."

Sharing a look, Jimmy and Tony muffled their snickers at the discomfited look on Jethro's face. He was not a tea man. But for his ‘darling little girl' he'd stomach it…and hoard the raspberry Pims.

Smiling, Donald handed Leroy three of the raspberry Pims. "Eat them with your tea, Lee, and you'll get through it."

Peering over his own cup, Jimmy offered his own encouragement. "Yeah. Plus Abby made yours with twice the normal amount. That should help." The sour look he got in return only widened his smile.

Joining in on the teasing, Tony held out one of the chocolate covered biscuits. "Digestive? Wouldn't want to unsettle your stomach with something so foreign as tea."

Abby reached around from her position in between Jimmy and Donald and smacked him hard. "Tony!"

Warm, rich laughter from Donald pulled the trio's attention from their bickering. Smiling broadly, they watched as Donald put down his tea and dabbed at his eyes with a napkin, he was laughing so hard. Jethro gave them a subtle thumb up as he watched his lover relax back into the easy, light mood he'd had earlier in the day.

Munching on their strawberry Pims, the three sat back in their chairs satisfied. Mission accomplished.

*~*~*

Ducking through the door of Gibbs chosen coffee shop, Tony loosened his shirt collar. Ziva and McGee had arrived by the time Gibbs had exited the elevator and stalked to his desk. The only answer his raised eyebrow had gotten was a raised coffee cup and a barked out ‘Dinozzo' that sent him diving back into the cold case he'd pulled. Catching sight of the tale-tell silver hair, he raised his hand in a slight wave before heading to the counter to get his own drink.

The waitress offered a quick smile as his turn came up before signaling to an older woman that she should come over. She sashayed into place before the register while calling the last bits of her instructions to the boy she'd been dressing down before he arrived.

"Thanks, Terri." A nod and a shooing motion sent the younger gal off to a new station before the waitress turned back to him. "Afternoon, Tony. Figured you'd be here since Grumbles claimed one of my booths. Food or drink today?"

Tipping an imaginary hat, the green-eyed agent laughed. That was their Phina. She'd been there since before Tony had been with Gibbs. Back then she'd been just a waitress, but she'd saved his butt on a regular basis with the coffee scale she'd developed strictly for Gibbs or Grumbles as she called him to his face and his back. Once Phina'd gotten her hands on him and by extension, Gibbs, the mornings where he'd be in there explaining that he needed this specific combination of qualities to appease the beast, so to speak, had been a gladly lost and forgotten moment in time. They'd sat in a booth one day after her shift when he was just plain pissed and she was just plain frustrated about Gibbs and his damn coffee. And that's when they'd done it. He'd described Gibbs' various moods and she'd come up with the coffee combos. Together they'd built what had come to be called ‘The Cop's Menu'. Instead of fancy names, it had coffees for situations: Bad Ass Case, Stakeout, Eluding Capture, Anomalies, Unsolved, and so on. It'd eventually become a staple of the shop that had netted her the management position and him his sanity.

"I'll have a double ‘No Time to Eat'. Green tea, chocolate, and protein...covers all the bases for the day."

Frowning, Phina shook her finger under his nose. "And how many meals is this making up for?"

Offering a broad smile, Tony ducked his head sheepishly. "Not that many, Phina. Just lunch and maybe dinner, depending on what's up."

"You and that boss of yours. If I thought it'd do any good, I'd dump the both of you in a health class and bar the door."

"I'm pretty sure there'd be no door if you did. Just a bunch of holes and some terrified health nuts."

"Humph." Looking over her shoulder, she snapped her fingers at the boy she'd been addressing earlier. "Triple no time to eat and tomato basil soup, Chris. Goes to the back booth."

"Awww, Phina. I woulda been fine without the soup."

"But would you stay that way if I didn't keep at ya?" Phina grinned and tucked a strand of silver hair into her graying bun. "Now gimme my money and skedaddle over to Grumbles. He's glaring again."

Tossing a ten on the counter, Tony gave a teasing half-bow. "Will do. You take care and tell those grandbrats of yours I'll see ‘em at the next practice game."

Weaving through the crowd of cops that was quickly filing in, Tony picked his way across the room. A quick wave in Gibbs' direction kept those who knew him from starting anything beyond a ‘good to see ya' exchange. Slipping into the faux leather booth, he ran his fingers along the marked wooden table top. Good seats and tables with history. Everything a coffee-diner needed.

"So, what'd you get today?"

Grunting Gibbs raised the cup to his lips and took a gulp. "Manipulative Bastards."

"Ouch" Tony winced and scowled, dragging his finger down a groove in the table. "I'm guessing that's the phrase of the day."

Slamming his cup onto the table with enough force to pop the top, Gibbs tossed the recorder he'd kept hold of at Tony and a set of earphones. "Hit play."

Gaze roaming, Tony took in the pinched features and almost snarl that was barely contained. He was all Boss right now. Family would come later. He eyed the recorder and the information it held. "You tell Garrett?"

"Not yet. He's out."

Translated that meant out of contact and undercover. Curiosity satisfied, Tony pushed the play button and listened to the confrontation. Meeting his ass. This had been a setup. For them...their team. So lost in picking apart the so-called meeting with rewinding back to certain parts, like the question of integrity which was more applicable to Vance than any of them, Tony didn't realize that he'd dug his nails into the wood or that a wary Chris was trying to deliver his order. A sharp thwap to the head had him jerking out the earphones and swallowing a gasp as he raised a hand to rub the back of his head.

"Hard enough there, Jethro?"

"Food's here."

"Oh." Offering an apologetic smile complete with widened eyes, Tony took his drink and soup from the boy. "Thanks, Chris. Sorry ‘bout that."

Waving a black-nailed hand, the spiky-haired hire shrugged it off. "No prob. Life's issues. You get pissed, eat, and move on. Solves it all."

Nodding, Tony served up a mouthful of soup as the youth padded off and back into the crowd. "Yeah, suppose so," he muttered.

Gibbs waited till Tony had reached the halfway point in the oversized bowl before knocking the edge with his coffee cup.

Looking up from his study of the rippling soup, Tony offered an edged smile and hard eyes. "He's playing a game. All or nothing." Another mouthful of soup and a sip of his drink before he nearly whispered, "What'd you choose?"

A grin crept across Gibbs' face, the satisfied one he saved for his people and something exceptionally good, like a morning with Don. "Nothing, for him," he drawled out. "I asked Don to live with me." He paused, a firm line replacing the smile. "I'm going to retire, Tony. And this time, I'm not coming back. I want our time." The last few words trailed off towards the end.

Patiently, Lee watched the effect those words had on his and Don's son. It was true a blood test would prove otherwise, but they'd been the ones to give him a place to settle in and applied guidance and discipline when necessary, both in and out of the office. It was their home he came to for the holidays and them he came to when he needed help he couldn't ask for.

When the alcohol issue had hit, Abby had been his optimism and Jimmy had been his confidant. Don had been the one to provide the firm, no-nonsense support that refused to let him get away with not taking responsibility for his alcohol problem. He'd stood on the stairs of the basement, glass of pineapple juice in hand while Lee had played his part and gave their boy a way to apologize and remember without being overly destructive. The broad scope of the boat hadn't been for him, but he'd taken the tools and the skills and had kept running with it to the point where both he and Don had been worried that he'd replaced one bad habit with another. Then Tony had found that piece of driftwood Jethro had tossed in a back corner under the stairs years back when Garrett had first given it to him.

A half-smile touched Lee's lips as he remembered the turning point for Tony. He'd come down to gather him for dinner or bully him into bed, depending on how much he'd worn himself out. Instead of a glassy-eyed and exhausted Tony, Jethro had found him sitting on the floor with his hands slowly running over the water-polished wood. He'd begun speaking as he'd stroked, pointing out the question in this line as he traced it with a fingertip, the mischief in that knob as he tapped it playfully, and the secret in this upturn as he cupped it with his hand. It had been a puzzle and the challenge of it had settled him like the control over the boat had settled Jethro. Donald had declared them a matched set when he'd come down to find them talking about the tools needed to answer the puzzle. Tony had given them that piece when he'd finished. The little girl with arms stretched wide as she danced on her wooden cliff rested on the center of the dresser in their bedroom at Lee's house.

And now, he was telling his boy that he'd be on his own with a team which he was still edgy with and a boss that he didn't trust farther than a tree could jump. Neither Jimmy nor Abby were field. They'd manage. Tony was the one he and Don were worried about leaving without someone watching their six.

The napkin that had been sitting next to his soup bowl was little more than snow by the time Tony looked up and met Lee's questioning gaze. His shoulders drew tight, but his voice was steady. "I don't want leadership of the team."

"Then what do you want, Anthony?"

Tony jerked back as one hand came down hard on the edge of his soup bowl and spilled some of what was left onto the table and his shirt-sleeve and jacket. Wiping at his clothes, he turned to glare at the man behind him, but the apologetic smile that confronted him ruined the attempt. "Dammit, Donald. You're sneakier than Jethro is."

Shrugging, Donald offered his handkerchief as he slipped into the booth next to Lee, smiling when it was taken and applied to the mess.

Shaking one mostly clean finger at his chuckling dinner companion, Tony ground out, "And you. You knew he was there."

Patting the hand that Lee had rested on the table when Don had joined him, the medical examiner turned his attention back to Tony, specifically his earlier statement. "I do believe you are correct in that assumption, but I believe, my dear boy, that the true issue at hand is what you want, since we now know what you don't."

The air of amusement that had danced between the occupants of the booth faded and a more somber atmosphere crowded in. Tony poked at his pile of paper snow, scattering some of the flakes into the spilled soup. He watched as they slowly bled from white to red. "I've had offers from other agencies. Even after what happened with Jenny." He paused and flicked more flakes into the soup. A quick look at the pair in front of him found acknowledgement of the facts and knowledge of what he was possibly suggesting. "I never took them up on it because I didn't need to. I belonged and losing that wasn't worth a bigger paycheck. With both of you gone and things like they are, I can't stay. I won't stay and become Leon's scapegoat. Right now I might not be, but I'm expendable to him. He's an entirely different breed of bastard. I'll be more comfortable and safer with my standard fare."

"Fornell."

Nodding, Tony slouched back into the comfort of the padded booth. "Yeah. His offer's still open."

"And you'll be taking it," prodded Donald.

"What with you and Jethro ‘retiring', yeah. It'll keep me in DC. I've got more here than I could find anywhere else and I'm keeping it. Besides, it'll give me the chance to prod him into showing up at our dinners more often, so you and I can beat those two at cards."

Pushing back from the table, Leroy stared hard at his agent. He could do the job and do it well. If he cut the crap he'd been up to out. "Get your head on straight or I'll warn him off."

"What? Gibbs!" He shook his head to clear it. This wasn't a 'work' moment. Jethro..."

Crossing his arms, his voice hard, Jethro continued. "Don't bring your issues to work, Tony. You know better and I've been wrong in letting you get away with it. It hasn't overly affected the job...yet. But it could."

"I agree with Leroy, Tony. There soon may no longer be the chance of you ending up on my table, but I have no wish to bury you because of the job, much less a mistake on the job." Donald watched the tense form of their eldest before reaching out to grasp one clenched hand. "Dear child, you have nothing to prove."

Releasing a sigh, Tony rubbed at his forehead, his other hand relaxing under Donald's grip. "I know that, Donald. Doesn't make it seem less real." Tony paused and turned away from the pair to watch the crowd. This he hadn't told them. He hadn't even told Abby, much less Jimmy. Maybe he should have. But it'd been something he'd needed to do. Kate would have been proud after ribbing him about it. Shrugging Tony half-smiled. He missed his bratty best friend. Still watching the shifts of the crowd, he started to speak. "Lee, I am dealing with it. On my own time. Carving helps. Family helps. But I wanted more. Or I needed it. Either way, I chose it. I come in later on Wednesdays because I have an off the books counseling session at 0500. She's a nice lady who detests bullshit. Says it ruins the office carpet." He smiled before adding sheepishly, "Wants me to drag you all in for a family session."

"When?" The rumble of Leroy Jethro Gibbs waltzed across the table. No censure or teasing. Just that bland acceptance that was both infuriating and a blessing, normally both at once. Now, he was just glad for it and the soft smile that Donald wore.

Shrugging, Tony eased his hand out from under Don's with a quick squeeze of thanks. "After all this is over. It can keep till then. We've got time."

"Time, yes." Don bobbed his head for a moment before the phrase caught up with him and he gasped, one hand rising up to his face. "Oh dear. Leroy, the time and the dogs!"

Laughing, Tony shooed them out of the booth. "Good luck tending the mongrel army."

"Tony."

Donald's chiding only made him smile wider.

Pausing, Don patted his shoulder. "Be sure to let us know when and we'll come."

Flicking a wave over his shoulder, Lee called out, "Bright and early tomorrow, Tony."

Shaking his head at Jethro's version of ‘get to bed', Tony settled back in the booth to finish his drink and call his fellow musketeers. They had some planning to do.

*~*~*