Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandom:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Collections:
Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
Stats:
Published:
2020-11-04
Words:
944
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
3
Kudos:
28
Bookmarks:
1
Hits:
5,731

Misdirection and misrepresentation-or People are not who they seem

Summary:

rating: pg
author: Belladonna but it's Stacy's fault
pairing: D/N, sorta G/D
disclaimer: Don't own anything or anyone and I don't get paid...so there
warning: Blame Stacy, this is her fault-sort of a crossover between the Man From UNCLE and NCIS
Submitted through the NavyNCISslash2 mailing list.

Work Text:

Misdirection and misrepresentation-or People are not who they seem
By Belladonna

Ducky waited impatiently for his contact. As he stood in the cold, his thick Scottish wool coat keeping the worst of the icy air out, he wondered again if he was doing the right thing. Then he would relive his nightmare of Anthony's sweet face on his morgue table due to something that Director Sheppard had devised, and Jethro's haunted eyes or consider Abby's too close demise because of the unlamented Chip, and his resolve would strengthen.

Director Jennifer Sheppard was a detriment to NCIS, and to his favorite people, ones he considered his family and she had to go. He'd gone over her head and complained, but he'd received the usual American drivel of political correctness, first female director and all of that rot. When he'd arrived home he'd been a foul mood, complaining enough that his mother had come out of her dementia driven fog and actually given him good advice.

The sleek limousine pulling up dragged him out of his reminiscing and he smiled as the driver opened the door for him. "Tovarisch," he said warmly.

"Old chap," an equally warm voice replied.

Once inside the limousine Ducky turned to his seat mate and gave him an effusvie hug. "It's good to see you, Napoleon."

Napoleon smiled at his former partner and still excellent friend and love. "What was so important that you needed to see me? We're still on for New Years, are we not?"

Ducky, formerly known to Napoleon as Ilya, gave a troubled sigh. "I'm going to ask for a very important favor, dearest. Something that will protect the ones that I love. I'll understand if you cannot grant me this, but you're the only one I trust implicitly and calling you was mother's idea."

Intrigued, amused that his friend's mother had suggested him, and a little worried by the sorrow and worry in his friend's manner, Napoleon poured them both stiff drinks. He waited until Ilya had taken a bracing drink, then gestured gracefully, "Tell me." He listened patiently to everything that Ilya laid out for him, and he understood. At their ages they didn't have that many important people in their lives, and they tended to take care of the ones they did.

"Very well, but you'll owe me," he grinned cheekily at the eyeroll he received.

Ducky merely shook his head, unable to hide his smile at his irrepressible old friend. Tony's antics reminded him of Napoleon's in their younger days. "Thank you. Both for the favor and the drink."

The men exchanged another hug and then Ducky was let out in front of one of the local train stations. He waved as the limousine rode away, his heart peaceful. He'd done the right thing.

 

**

Ducky looked up from his table where he was dissecting their latest victim with the dubious help of Mr. Palmer, to see former Director Morrow in front of him. "Thomas, what a pleasant surprise."

Morrow looked over at Palmer, who stammered some excuse and left the two men in the morgue. "Ducky, was it really necessary?"

"I have no idea what you're referring to," Ducky replied, his forehead furrowed innocently.

Sighing, Morrow walked over and stared down at the formerly beautiful redhead, and now deceased Director of the NCIS. He rattled the change in his pockets and raised an eyebrow. "There were more than thirty witnesses that say she stepped in front of the speeding car, and the driver was absolutely sober."

"Yes," Ducky nodded as he plucked out her heart and dropped it into the metal pan to be weighed. "Jethro told me that they'd ruled it an accident. Such a shame, she was a delightful date."

Morrow's lip twitched. "Hopefully you'll like the next director a bit better?"

The older man gave a graceful shrug. "I'm sure I will. Was there something that you needed, Tom?"

"No, nothing. Have a Happy New Year," he said and turned to leave.

"I will, thank you," Ducky replied. "Tell your lovely wife I said hello."

"Thank you," Morrow called back and stepped into the elevator. Gibbs was leaning against the wall, his blue eyes sharp.

They both waited until Gibbs pressed the button to stop the elevator. "Well?"

"Oh, he was behind it. No doubt about it."

Gibbs shook his head, a rare admiring smile on his lips. "Never cross Dr. Mallard, Tom." He wasn't going to miss the interfering woman.

"No kidding," Morrow replied. "You'll like your new boss. Seems he was a former boss of yours during Desert Storm."

Gibbs brightened. "I thought he retired!"

"He did, but he agreed to do this as a favor to the the Secreatry of the Navy, who also doesn't want to cross Ducky."

Gibbs snorted. "I owe DiNozzo. He facetiously listed his first suspect as Ducky," he pressed the button and the elevator restarted.

"You always say he has good instincts."

**

Napoleon smiled over at his companion, toasting him with his champaigne glass, "Happy New Year."

Ducky held up his glass and watched happily as the ball dropped on the old year and heralded the new. He had his wish granted, he was with his best friend and love.

He was content.

In Alexandria, two men were cuddled together, one sable haired and one silver, and they were most assuredly were not watching the ball on t.v., they only had eyes for each other.

end