Here is a brief one-shot that popped into my mind. I am continuing to work on my other pieces, but since this was completed I wanted to gibe it to you. It's not my best work, but I hope it can tide you over until the next update. Thank you for your patience, and enjoy!

Gibbs POV

JETHRO!

Wow, Ducky sure sounded pissed. Half searching and half demanding, a furious undertone imbued his voice, as he came striding into the bullpen. It was late, and there were few people around beside my team, who looked up, shocked and speechless. I looked up myself, surprised, with one eyebrow raised as I look to see what he wanted.

His tone is still very firm, though less vocal as he continues.

"A word, if you please."

And then he turns around sharply, and starts to walk away. I am even more shocked at his abrupt behavior, but better go and see what he wants. I get up to follow him. Meanwhile, my gut twinges.

Ducky POV

He looks at me with one eyebrow raised, as if wondering what is wrong, after pulling the stunt he did today?! What is he thinking? Ever since his father's death, he has been more and more reckless, and removing himself further from his team. Not that he was very close in the first place. Well, I would not have any more of it. As a doctor, it was my job to look out for the welfare of my patients, which Jethro certainly was. I would not allow him to spiral like this, and end up doing something that could get him killed, and drastically harm Anthony and the rest of the team! It would not happen.

We arrive at autopsy, and I stride in further so Jethro can enter behind me. Once I hear the door swish shut, I whirl around to face him, and demand,

"I cannot believe you Jethro! What was that stunt you pulled today? Were you trying to get yourself killed?!"

Gibbs POv

Oh wow, he is pissed. I have to admit, I am not used to hurrying to follow someone who was pissed at me, usually I did the leading, and usually into a conference room instead of autopsy.

To be honest, I have a feeling I know where this is going. Lately I have been feeling a bit…bereft. I had lost my father, who was the last one to know me when I was young. I have been scared to think that everything was not on me alone, especially as I realized how much danger I put my loved ones in as I was, once again, a target. I didn't want to get near them again; I didn't want to hurt them. I am, actually, thinking about retiring. The last member of my blood family had died- I didn't know what else I was waiting for.

It's not that I don't respect Ducky, just not in the same light as I did Mike and my dad. But I did see him as a friend. And I remembered that there were times when I couldn't get a hold of myself and no one else was around, when either the guilt was too much for me, or my thick-headedness, a vital trait, in this job, got to be so big that I completely screwed up everyone I cared about. There were times when that friendship would shift slightly, and show the true value of our relationship.

At the beginning, he would have to fight me on it, and it was only once he made me realize just how badly I had screwed up that I would let him.

My whole life I have been a firm believer of consequences; it is the whole reason I had the system with my agents that I did. They were good people, and sometimes made mistakes. The system had very little tolerance for human error, and sometimes the official punishment would hurt them more, not teach them anything, or prevent them from being the asset to the agency that they were. My way, the punishment is taken care of, the guilt is absolved, and they know exactly what they are being punished for, so can learn from it and move on.

For me, sometimes I get so caught up in doing what I believe needs to be done that I lose sight of anything else. Ducky reminds me of it, reminds me of life beyond catching the bad guy. He reminds me that the reason for doing this work in the first place is to make the world a better place, and that sometimes I get so involved in the job that I hurt more than I help. He, Tony, and all of the others finally got me to realize that acting alone doesn't protect them, but hurts them. They care about me, and in trying to right a wrong on my own I am causing more harm than good- to them, and to my goal.

Sometimes I forget. And sometimes, I don't want to be reminded.

But once I am reminded, and do realize that I was wrong, I am usually quick to accept the consequences.

It happens so rarely, that I need Duck to step in to this degree. Usually, I can handle my guilt and the amends on my own. But when I have truly forgotten, on those rare occasions he does step in and gives me what I need.

And apparently, this was one of those times.

I don't see the problem, though. There have been times when he just wants to yell at me, to tell me to get my head out of my ass, as such, in more cultured terms. But he was usually more calm about it than this. Usually.

Ah well, I can at least hear him out. Whatever this is, it has gotten him upset, and I owe it to him to at least listen. It's not like I have done anything that wrong. I was just doing my job. Yes, I do need to stop isolating myself from the team and engage them a little more. But it's not like I have done anything that bad.

Then he really starts in.

"Well, Jethro? And while we're on it, what was with the stunt a few weeks ago, after you returned to Stillwater and we thought we had caught the Chameleon?"

"But we did-"

"Never! Be! Unreachable!

"Do you have any idea how scared your team was when they couldn't' reach you? And how many times have you come down on Anthony, Timothy, Ziva, and even Kate for not having their phone, especially when you know that there is someone out there who wants you dead?! Do your rules not apply to you, the almighty Jethro? Do you think you cannot die? Because that is the only reason I can think of for you to act like this, other than wanting to die. I am here to tell you that a bullet does not care about your reputation, nor do other lethal means. You are! Just! As mortal! As the rest of us!"

"I know th-"

As he continues, I realize that there is no point in me trying to reason with him, as he is either halting or ignoring my protests, and that yes, his intention is to bend me over for what he calls, a "more forceful wake-up call".

"Along those lines, Jethro, what happened to never assume, hmm? Just because you killed someone who looked like the description of who we thought was the chameleon doesn't mean that it was actually him- who knows how many people Rivera had out looking for you! We already knew that the Chameleon was a master of disguises; he could have changed his appearance at any time, if he realized he was in a rush and may have left some evidence behind? If he was watching your team pick up his crime scene? Or if he had planted the evidence, like indeed he did! Really, Jethro, you are better than that," he said his voice laden with disappointment.

At this point I could do nothing but close my mouth. He was right. I was better than that.

"I know things have been rough on you since Mike died, even more so since your father also passed." Ducky says softly with a small smile. "But that does NOT give you an excuse to act like this! Ever!

"So, Jethro? What do you have to say for yourself?"

I could, of course, say nothing, and he knew it. I knew I was wrong, and I knew I had messed up. And I knew that Duck was more than ready to help me face the consequences.

So I said the only thing I could, "Where do ya want me, Duck."

He looks at me for a minute, before nodding his head toward one of the autopsy tables with a grim look on his face and saying,

"Over the table, Jethro."

I nod, and head over to the table, my gut clenching as I feel my stomach drop. Bending over an autopsy table had never bothered me like it did DiNozzo, it actually helped me to focus on why I was there: to be better at the job, to make my team into the agents, and people, that they could be. If I screwed up, either I, or someone I cared about, could be lying on that table because of my mistakes. This mindest today got me thinking even further, reinforcing an earlier thought. Maybe I am too old for this. Behind me, I hear Ducky unbuckle his belt and pull it out of the loops, and then walk over to me, and my gut churns even further. He puts his hand on my back, and says,

"I would ask you to pull down your pants, but we have not done that before, and I will NOT be going easy on you. But hear me Jethro, this cannot happen again."

I nod, and thickly swallow before responding,

"I gotcha Duck."

His hand tightens slightly in response, before removing it to prepare for the first lash. He knows I do not like to be held down, what he calls the 'full force of my stubbornness'. He also knows that I know that if he feels like I need him to hold me down or mainly to offer comfort, then it would be returning. This is about him being in control, and me not being in control. I had no say in this, besides my reluctant permission. And that is how it should be.

He draws his hand back for the first lash, and I hear it whistle as it slices through the air before landing with a sharp crack on my backside.

Crack!

I jump a little and wince, surprised at how much it hurt. It had indeed been awhile since this had happened, and I had forgotten how painful it was. Going by the next few lashes Duck was right, this was not going to be easy.

He works in silence for several minutes, letting me focus, before he starts to speak again.

"I know you do not handle grief well and that you get close to very few people, but when you do, the world does not stop when they leave or die! And you cannot expect it to! You still have responsibilities to others! If the world did revolve around you, as I think sometimes you think it does-"

He , of course, starts off with what I most definitely do not want to hear.

"Now that's not fair, Duck…"

"Then maybe the world would stop. But it does not, and you have other people who care about you, who NEED you, who are still here. You do NOT get to go out on your own, you do not get to leave us behind, and you do NOT get to shut yourself off from all who love you! And I will remind you of this no matter how many times we land ourselves here!

"Duck," I say between hisses as he lays down another stroke, "I was gonna retire!"

He just scoffs, and says as the lashes continue to come down,

"What nonsense, Jethro. You would be no good retired, everyone would be worried and stressed, you would be miserable, they all would be miserable. But," here he pauses to switch the focus of the lashes to my under curve, where I would feel it most when I sat down. I hiss at each stripe, the pain increasing. "You do not get to run from this, Jethro! It would only hurt your people more. You have people who care about you, and your actions affect them! You do not get to behave like this, like you are willing to die or retire, to avoid it! And I care about you, and them, too much to permit you to do something so stupid. Need I remind you of what happened last time you, so called, 'retired?'"

I wince, both with the memory and the steadily building pain in my rear.

"Duck, that is in the past!"

"Ah yes, but the purpose of a punishment is to teach a lesson, is it not? And if the lesson needs to be remembered, previous consequences may be brought to mind. A leader's, actions, affects, his, team!" He brings the belt down again several more times, before he pauses for a moment, and his voice softens. He puts his hand on my back for a moment before speaking.

"It is not that I, or any of us, still blame you for that Jethro. For you are right, it is in the past. But you still did hurt your team a great deal, and that," he gives my back a squeeze, before removing his hand, and bringing down a sharp crack, "cannot happen again!"

He works in silence for a minute, only laying a few more stripes to my under curve before moving back to my, by this point, very sore rear. After a while, he asks,

"So, Jethro, what did you learn the last time?"

I gasp a little as I speak, for the pain is really starting to get to me. He was right, this has got to be one of the harshest whippings he has ever given me!

"Th-that my team needs me, and- ouch, Duck! And that I have a, ahh! Responsibility to them! That I cannot just, hiss, leave them without possibly hurting much of who they are and what they have, ow! worked for. DiNozzo would blame and start doubting himself, Tim would dive into work and become angry and caustic, Bishop would start to loose purpose and confidence and see herself as irrelevant, and Abby-" I groan as I put my head to the table, finally understanding what he was saying. I remember what Mike had said to me after the death of my family, of how I still had something to work towards, a responsibility to use my skills to help others. Now, I had a responsibility to my team as well, and just like Shannon and Kelly wouldn't want me to give up back then, my dad would probably give me just as bad a whipping as Ducky had if he knew I had almost killed myself and shirked my responsibilities to those that we both cared about. The tears, which had started falling sometime during my speech, began to flow a little faster. "Abs would be heartbroken. They all would."

Ducky maintained his strength for another 10 lashes as I lay there, limp and defeated, and then it was over.

"Well said, Jethro," he says as he once again puts his hand on my back, and rubs it, his voice once again quiet and warm. "We are all done here." I let him do so for a minute, as that was a harsh spanking, and I have been isolated lately. I need the reminder that, not only do I still have people I am accountable to, but that I also have those who can comfort me. But soon after, I push up a little and start to rise, as he knew I would, and transfers his hand onto my shoulder. He looks at me as I shift, and says,

"You have a family here, Jethro. And yes, while you may, eventually, someday retire, there is still a lot left in you. Don't do it after a time of strife, when all of the kids would think it is because of them. Do it when you are all ready, not just to hide. Those kids are a part of you, and you cannot get rid of them. Don't make decisions that will hurt them further."

I straighten, as warmth and resolve floods through me, and look him in the eye.

"Thanks, Duck."

And he smiles, removes his hand, and waves towards the exit.

As I walk towards it, my gait less smooth than it was before, I realize,

Yes. This is my home.