SquidgeWorld Archive

Jethro Leroy Jethro, Special Agent with NCIS and a born investigator, consciously schooled his features to keep his curiosity and consternation from showing. Usually during an interrogation he did this without thinking, and usually when he was talking with one of his closest friends, it wasn't necessary. This was, however, an unusual occasion.

For all the time Jethro had known his now closest friend, Dr. Donald "Ducky" Mallard, Ducky had taken a single vacation day the Friday before Thanksgiving, and made certain he was not on call for that weekend. Jethro had first just asked Ducky about it, but Ducky had been evasive. Hounding Ducky for answers yielded no more information. The usually loquacious Ducky would become stubbornly silent and almost grim. Each year he attempted to interrogate his friend about that weekend, and each year Ducky remained steadfastly closed-mouthed. Indeed, Ducky was one of the few people that ever didn't "break" from Jethro' interrogation techniques. Jethro, however, refused to let it drop. For the last few years, he had completed covert surveillance of the Doctor's actions during that weekend.

It wasn't that Jethro was concerned about what Ducky did with his off time; but actually, in this situation he was. Ducky didn't often take vacation, the intellectual thrills of their cases such that they relaxed his relentless brain more so than most vacations. No, Jethro was concerned because of the pattern of behavior he noticed prior to the target Friday and Ducky's behavior once he returned.

Ebullient was not an adjective one typically used with near-retirement-age medical examiners, but to Jethro, that was one of the best ways to describe his friend. Ducky was generally a happy, curious, friendly, warm, giving, individual == excited by the simplest pleasures as well as the complex and sophisticated ones. Ducky enjoyed walking out along the Potomac with an old friend, attending the ballet and the symphony, and doing simple magic tricks for a young boy with the same zeal and joi de vivre. When Ducky was happy, relaxed and content, he was a sight to behold, Jethro thought to himself. At such times, Jethro himself almost began to feel like there was good in the world and reason to be optimistic and well, if not happy, than certainly at peace.

Except that ebullience would start to decline the second week of November. Ducky would become quiet - one might almost say morose (as others did occasionally about Jethro himself). Certainly his joy in the world around him diminished and his behavior the day or two before that Friday could rival that of Jethro himself on a caffeineâ€"free day.

Ducky would return with a sadness about him that tore at Jethro's heart. It was those days, when Ducky looked so inconsolable, that Jethro would almost let his own barriers drop and want to comfort his friend in anyway he could == or more likely, comfort him in the way Jethro only very rarely allowed himself to think about.

Jethro appreciated that anyone could have off times, might need time to recharge. But Ducky's behavior was so consistent the other times of the year that Jethro knew it was whatever this vacation was about that caused the change in his friend.

This year, Jethro determined, he was going to find out what it was all about.

Over the past few years ha had been able to piece together that Ducky spent that weekend in New York City. He would drive, fly or take the train up on the Friday. Jethro couldn't find a pattern for how Ducky traveled; it seemed almost random - as did some of the routes he took. But end up in New York - specifically, Manhattan - he would. For all the inconsistent methods for arriving in Manhattan, Ducky always stayed at the same hotel. A small hotel, with a European air; off the beaten track. Ducky stayed Friday and Saturday nights and would return to the DC area on Sunday - usually in a manner different from the way he arrived, unless he drove.

Jethro had also been able to ferret out that while in Manhattan, Ducky would visit a liquor store - the same store - and buy a bottle of very, very good vodka. The only reason Jethro had been able to find this out was because Ducky ordered the bottle at least a month in advance, and paid with it via credit card. Other than that, Jethro had not been able to find out much about the weekend. If Ducky ate out, went to the ballet or opera or other events, he paid cash or someone else bought the tickets.

So these past three years Jethro had worked at tracing Ducky's movements during the mysterious weekend. This year Jethro was prepared. He was going to invite himself along, and when Ducky declined, as Jethro knew he would, Jethro would move on to his undercover operations. He would follow Ducky to and around New York. Jethro was going to get to the bottom of this this year.

And so, when Ducky approached him about two week prior to that Friday before Thanksgiving, leave request in hand. Jethro had to be careful to not give away the game to his old friend. "Come on, Duck, let me in on the secret. Where ya going? Better yet, let me come with you? New York at the holidays is a great idea."

"Jethro, you ought know you'll not get an answer from me. Why do you persist in this torture for the both of us?" Ducky's tone was quite petulant. He spoke so loudly that Abby, passing by at that moment overheard and did a double take. Jethro saw that she was headed in to appease her curiosity and he did a quick head shake to warn her off. Abby signed "Why?" and Jethro just glared and shook his head again. Jethro could tell that she was weighing the consequences of ignoring his warning. After a few seconds she smiled, signed "Come see me," and moved along.

"Honestly, Ducky? Honestly, because I'm worried about you. Every year you do this, every year you get grumpy,"

Ducky interrupted, "You, Special Agent Gibbs, are calling me grumpy? Pot, kettle."

Jethro completed his thought, "You go away and then come back sad and, well, lonesome is the best word I can find."

Ducky's _expression softened to that which Jethro was accustomed, the affection and friendship, as well as the exasperation, sustained by the strength and years of their friendship. "Oh, Jethro. Please, just leave this be. There's nothing here that concerns you. There's nothing to investigate. It's just an old man taking a day off. Now, Special Agent Gibbs, is my vacation day and request to be off-call approved?"

"Of course, Duck. Of course. I hope whatever it is goes well." With that Jethro signed the paperwork, handed it back to Ducky, and walked away.

Ducky watched his friend, colleague, and officially, his work superior, walk away, sit at his desk and start punching on his computer. Something wasn't right about Jethro's reaction, Ducky thought to himself. This was the first time Jethro had actually commented on his behavior changes before this little trip. This was also the easiest Jethro had given up in years. There was a trick in there somewhere; there was no way he was through with this. Ducky made a mental note to check in with Jethro as soon as he returned and to make certain his own demeanor was more typical. He had obviously not been paying enough attention to his own behavior for Jethro to comment upon his emotions like that.

Unbeknownst to his team, Jethro had also secured Friday and the entire week end to be off-call and out of the office. His team had been surprised, but accepted the day on their own like a gift. Friday morning Jethro rented a generic blue sedan and started off for New York. He had booked a room in a small hotel about a block from where he was sure Ducky was staying. His plan was to essentially stake out the hotel he knew Ducky would be staying at, and follow the man until he got his answers. It might be tricky trying to follow Ducky the whole weekend with no assistance or back up, but he was motivated to succeed in this mission in ways he had never been motivated before.

Ducky settled himself on the train, turning to gaze out the window and avoid any chatty seatmates. As he had aged, this trip seemed longer and longer. This year he opted for a direct route, a reserved first class set on the metroliner from DC to New York. He would walk about the city some, reacquainting himself with the haunts of a past life, and find a small, Italian restaurant for a sentimental pasta dinner. He'd go to bed early tonight and be ready for tomorrow's events. This annual pilgrimage to remember and honor his past was harder and harder to do; the memories fainter, less real as time moved on. His far-away past was being replaced with the more recent past. The center of his past life was almost completely replaced by the center of his current life. Memories of two lifetimes flowed through Ducky's mind as the train speeded north.

Jethro had found a place to park just down the street from Ducky's hotel. He had a large thermos of strong coffee and patience to wait for his friend. He watched as Ducky arrived by cab, one small overnight bag with him. He watched as Ducky left the hotel about forty minutes later, strolling along the street, with no seeming destination in mind. Jethro decided the doctor was probably out to find dinner and that, given past years, this wasn't the time to be worried about trailing him. He settled further down into the car and proceeded to continue his stakeout.

Ducky was annoyed by his own nervousness. He had felt something ghost over him quickly when he exited the cab to check into his hotel, but had ignored it. It had been years since he had felt such a sensation of being covertly watched, years since he had to attend to the concerns it evoked. The feeling returned when he left to walk to dinner; it was stronger and continued for quite some time. He slowed his walk, taking more time to peruse his fellow pedestrians, but there was, he was fairly sure, nothing there. He turned the corner and the feeling evaporated into the evening damp.

After observing Ducky returning to the hotel, Jethro had allowed himself to go on off to his own hotel. He would be up early the next morning, continuing his stakeout. Saturday, his gut told him, Saturday was the day he would learn what all the mystery was about. He slept fitfully that night, visions of different scenarios going through his mind. He had to solve this, once and for all, just for his own peace of mind. Jethro finally acknowledged to himself that this little trip might cut all traces of relationship with Ducky. Ducky didn't want him to know, obviously, about what happened during this trip. This was, Jethro acknowledged, an incredible breach of trust on his part, an incredible breach of the slight personal distance that remained between the two men.

Jethro, uncharacteristically, he admitted even to himself, wanted to breach that remaining personal distance. Well, he thought to himself, when I do things, I always do them in a big way. If I'm going to blow this relationship, I may as well blow it to hell.

Ducky spent a morning relaxing in his room, having a large room service breakfast, reading the Times. His plan was to start out on his day's activities with lunch, and then move on to the day's main event. As always on this day, he was consumed by ambiguous and conflicting feelings - loss and joy, sadness and contentment.

When Ducky left the hotel about one Saturday afternoon, Jethro was ready to move. He followed, observing as Ducky ate at a small café. Jethro took the opportunity to eat quick stand up meal and get another large coffee. Who knew what would be happening next.

As Jethro had thought would happen, Ducky's next stop was the liquor store, where he did buy yet another bottle of very expensive vodka. It was interesting, because in all their years as friends, Jethro was certain Ducky had never chosen to drink vodka. With whom would Ducky share this bottle?

At this point Jethro knew there was a real possibility that he could lose Ducky - Ducky might hail a cab or use public transportation. Jethro's luck continued to hold, as it looked as if Ducky would walk at least a little longer.

Ducky was falling into a simple evasive pattern. While he had no reason to even think he was being followed, he couldn't shake the feeling. He wouldn't let it interrupt his plans, but he would take some extra precautions.

Jethro followed, staying out of Ducky's sight. Jethro wondered what Ducky was doing. If he didn't know better, he'd think Ducky was taking evasive action. Smart as Ducky was, though, where would he learn such behavior? He's giving me a good workout, Jethro thought to himself; I may have to get him to do this with McGee for practice.

While the sense of being followed never really left him, Ducky finally made his way to his destination - a small grave yard in an old church. Jethro observed the area and noted that church itself, the yard and the small cemetery were certainly well kept. Some of the graves had wreaths or flower tributes, while others looked quite lonely. It was clear this was Ducky's destination; he was headed toward the back corner. Jethro had to work hard to maintain his cover, although it seemed to him that Ducky was more and more focusing on the task at hand and less on his surroundings.

Jethro was able to hide himself several rows back from where Ducky had settled on a bench.

"Ah, Napasha. I'm here again to see you, my love. It's been a year, quite the year, I may add. I still miss you, Napasha, but I guess the old saying is true, and time does heal. I now go weeks at a time without thinking about or remembering what our lives were like. Of course, this past year has almost rivaled some of our times together. I don't miss the danger, the hazards, the constant risk. I do miss our quiet times together; I miss being wrapped in your arms, in your love."

Jethro's mouth had gaped open at Ducky's opening statement. Napasha? Who the hell was Napasha? Why was this someone that he had never heard of? As Jethro listened to Ducky, he grew even more agitated. This person had been Ducky's lover; that was obvious.

"Napasha, I do think you'd like Jethro. I know I've told you about him. I, Napoleon, he has come to mean so much to me. He's such a good man, even as he says he's a bastard. I'll never be able to share with him like we shared, but his friendship means everything to me. Oh, and I do so miss being with someone. I know it took years for you to get me to open up, as they call it now. It's a different life and I'm a different person. You might even say that Gibbs is a lot like the me you first met. I've seen him change to due loss just as I changed due to your love. You wouldn't know me today, Napasha. But I am happy and content. I've not everything I want, but surely I have all that I need. Well, given that I can't ever get you back, of course."

Jethro continued to be amazed at what he was hearing. Who was this person that Ducky had loved so that that loved had changed him to the loving person Ducky was today? And what did Ducky mean by he couldn't share with him like he shared with this Napasha person. And just what kind of names were Napasha and Napoleon, anyway?

Ducky settled onto the bench and opened the bottle of vodka. "Here my love, it's time to share our bottle." He pulled out small glasses from his pocket. "As always, it's not ice cold, but if I don't mind, surely you shouldn't?"

Jethro watches as Ducky poured two fingers of vodka into each glass. One Ducky sipped from, while the other sat on the bench. Jethro listened in wonder as Ducky recounted the horrendous events of this last year with his Napasha. Upon finishing his first glass Jethro was slightly amused to see that, indeed, Ducky was sharing it with this Napasha person; Ducky slowly poured the second glass of vodka unto the grave.

"Napasha, again I thank you for finding my mother. You know, of course, that the senility is taking over. Indeed, she has to have someone come in during the day to check on her while I am at work. This weekend I even hired someone to come and stay most of the weekend with her, just because I couldn't trust her alone for the three days I'd be away. But these years with her continue to be one of the most treasured gifts I have of you, my dear."

Found his mother? What did that mean? This was not anything he had ever learned about Ducky, that someone had found his mother for him. Jethro settled in, assuming that Ducky would talk to this ghost and finish the vodka before doing anything else. Jethro felt as if he had learned more about Ducky in the last ten minutes that he had in the last twenty years of friendship.

And one of the astonishing things was that Ducky seemed to feel more deeply about him than he had ever had reason to suspect. Was it possible that Ducky felt for him the same things he had felt, but been unwilling to acknowledge, for Ducky? And knowing this seemed to be the case, could he step out and act on it?

Jethro listened as Ducky continued to talk to his ghost, covering topics from world events to this past year's vacation in Britain, to commenting on the various members of their NCIS team. All presented with Ducky's inimitable perspective.

As the afternoon drifted on, and Ducky drank more vodka, Jethro noticed a change in both Ducky's voice and the content of his monologue. Ducky's proper accent, and old mix of British boarding school and Scots, was sounding more and more ... Russian. And Ducky's monologue seemed to become more poignant and maudlin. Ducky seemed to be talking about those he loved, and this Napasha and he, Jethro, seemed to be in the lead. Names he knew and names he didn't threaded through Ducky's conversation.

Jethro was giving only half his attention to the scene a few yards away from him, as he was also thinking about what should happen next. He put the puzzle pieces together enough to understand that Napasha, Napoleon, was someone who Ducky had both worked with and loved. That these two had had experiences that surpassed what Ducky and he shared at NCIS. And that Ducky seemed to feel for him the same that had had felt for this Napasha. Jethro was also trying to decide what he would do next. Should he let Ducky know he was here and had heard Ducky? He knew he wouldn't stop following Ducky until the man was safely at the hotel. The half bottle of vodka was enough to give him pause about letting Ducky go about without any back up.

Several hours after settling onto the bench, Ducky slowly gathered himself together. "Well, Napasha. Our bottle is finished; I've shared my year with you. I suppose it's time for me to go back to my new life. I'll come back and see you again next year. Supposing I can, of course. I, ah, oh, I do miss you, Napoleon. Good bye." Ducky bent down and gently ran his hand along the granite stone, then turned and began to walk away.

Jethro noticed that Ducky seemed more stooped than usual, not so much because of the vodka, Jethro thought, but just from emotions that were obviously still coursing through him. Jethro decided that, while it might no be fair to hit while Ducky was still so obviously emotional, this might be the best time to attack.

"Ducky, hold up."

Ducky stopped at the sound of Jethro's voice, certain of whom it belonged yet uncertain as to why he was hearing it. "Jethro?" asked Ducky, as he looked around. A maelstrom of emotions coursed through Ducky, thoughts of loss, confusion, anger, betrayal. "What are you doing here, Jethro?" The longer Ducky had to process, the more anger and betrayal won the war of emotions. "What in the hell are you doing here when I have made it expressly clear I do not want you here?"

Jethro caught up to his friend, and put a hand on each shoulder. "I know, Ducky, I know I've probably broken your trust. I had to know; I had to find out what it was that affected you so, what was so important to you. And I think maybe I did." Jethro moved a step closer, so that there were only a few inches between the two men. Ducky was just staring at Jethro. "Ducky, for years you've known me better than anyone, put up with me. And I've loved you. Because you accepted me for the bastard I am and saw something better. Because you are intelligent, and warm, and giving and gave me a sense of optimism that died long ago with my daughter. I've sat and listened to you talk to this Napasha and I can't decide if I'm grateful you've had someone who loved you that much or hating that there is someone else that you've loved and I never knew about them. I can't believe there is so much about you I obviously don't know."

Ducky continued to essentially gape at Jethro, for Jethro was talking about his feelings, something Jethro very rarely did. He was barely processing what Jethro was saying as he tried to remember what he had said these past hours and wondered what Jethro might have overheard.

"Duck," Jethro continued, unsure of what this uncharacteristic silence meant. For the first time in years Jethro realized how grateful he was that Ducky was such an open book, his affection for Jethro always right one the surface, for at this moment that affection was buried beneath other emotions. "I want you to know that I love you, have been in love with you for several years. I just never was brave enough to ruin our friendship - or our working relationship - to tell you that. I've heard you talk to this Napasha, and unless you've been lying, I think you love me too. Is that possible, that you truly love me, Ducky? I'm not that lovable."

"Oh, Jethro. What am I to do with you?" Ducky sighed. Jethro smiled, for that familiar tone of affection and exasperation laced those familiar words. "For years I've kept my past from you - a past that included loving a man. There are reasons for my reticence, reasons that you may have begun to understand if you've been listening to me all afternoon. There is much that, even today, is classified. That even today could put me and those around me at risk should the full truth be revealed."

Ducky pulled back from Jethro's arms during this, although he maintained eye contact the whole time. "I don't regret not telling you about that; indeed, I regret that you know. I do regret not telling you about Napasha, my Napoleon. He was my partner, my best friend, and my lover. He died before I met you. Ah, I did love Napoleon. When he died I determined to leave behind all of that life that I could. To start a new life that allowed me the enjoy my life in ways that Napoleon and I never could. It was years later that my feelings for friendship for you began to turn to love. I ignored it for years. Indeed, it was when I found myself spending most of my annual visit with Napoleon talking about you that I began to truly realize the depths of my feelings for you."

At those words Jethro closed the gap between then again, this time putting his hands not on Ducky's shoulders, but cupping his face. He pulled them together, but no so close that continuing eye contact was uncomfortable for either man.

"I love you, Donald Mallard. I don't care about the past. Both of us, it seems, may have things we can't share with the other. But to know that we could be sharing our present, oh, Duck, I want that. And you know I eventually get what I want." Jethro grinned at Ducky.

Ducky put his hands up to cup Jethro's hands. He pulled gently and Jethro read the message, stepping in closer to close the distance between then. Ducky's hands then went cup to Jethro's face, pulling it down. "Yes, Jethro, I do love you." The words were whispered against Jethro's mouth, ending as their first kiss began. After several kisses Ducky continued, "Far be it from me to try to keep you from getting what you want."