Chapter 1
Ducky?
Gibbs sat behind his desk in the squad-room as his team all left for the night. Tony left with Ziva whom he'd got engaged to a month ago; then came Jimmy Palmer on his way home to his wife Breena accompanied by McGee and Abby. Abby carried her overnight bag which Gibbs had seen once or twice.
"Camping out, Abs?" Gibbs asked as she passed his desk with McGee. Abby smiled and McGee stifled a laugh.
"They're still deflooding my apartment, Gibbs and I'm staying with Tim tonight." She pecked him on the cheek in a daughterly way.
Gibbs smiled and nodded knowingly. "Alright. Take care of her, McGee. Goodnight."
"I will, boss. Goodnight." Tim said kindly and Abby waved as they followed Jimmy to the lift with Tony and Ziva. Once the lift bell had sounded to signify their leaving, Gibbs sighed and looked towards the stairs. Ducky should be up by now. Ducky was always the last to leave before Gibbs as he was usually signing autopsy reports. But it had been quiet today, very few corpse's had been delivered.
Gibbs was concerned now and grabbed his belongings before making his way downstairs to the morgue in search of his best friend.
He found him, sat at his desk, glasses in one hand, the other held a photograph frame. Ducky's shoulders were shaking... Gibbs was stunned. Ducky was crying. Gibbs stepped through the sliding doors as they opened and even then Ducky didn't look up.
"Duck?" Gibbs asked as he neared the desk. He had to ask twice more before the kindly doctor looked up, eyes red with tears.
"Oh, Jethro. I was just coming..." Ducky began but Gibbs stopped him from putting the photograph away and pulled up a chair and sat beside the M.E.
"Are you alright, Duck?" Gibbs asked and Ducky took a deep breath. He knew it was pointless to lie to Gibbs, he'd know.
"No, Jethro, I am not." Ducky said exhaling.
"What's up?"
"I was remembering... Someone. I wasn't keen on leaving earlier. Mother and I... We fight on this day, every year."
"Why?"
"It's the one night she remembers, dementia and all, she remembers and we fight..." Ducky replaced his glasses and looked at the photograph frame before handing it to Gibbs. "We fight over her."
The photograph contained the image of a young woman, aged about 16 or 17 with dark hair and Ducky's wide smile. It was in black and white but the woman must have had Ducky's grey eyes. Gibbs smiled. "She's beautiful. Who is she?"
"My daughter. She was my daughter." Ducky said in a voice, so quiet that if the morgue were buzzing with the sound of electrical equipment and lights (the only light being Ducky's desk lamp), Gibbs wouldn't have heard him.
"Pardon?"
"My daughter. Iona her name was. She was 18 there." Ducky said again with a small smile as he pointed to the photograph Gibbs held.
"Ducky? You never told me you had a daughter." Gibbs said stunned as he handed the photograph back.
"I wanted to... After you lost Kelly and Shannon. To tell you I knew how you felt... But I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't know if I could trust myself to open that vein again and talk about her."
"What happened to her?"
"I lost her. Ten days after that photograph was taken."
"Lost?"
And so began the tale of Iona Mallard, Ducky's daughter.
