Special Agent Jethro Gibbs was in sombre mood as he arrived to work early on Veterans Day. It wasn't because he was working on a federal holiday: he didn't pay much attention to irrelevancies such as days off although he expected there might be some underlying resentment in his team.

It wasn't that he was particularly sad to be remembering fallen friends: he remembered them most days and didn't need a calendar to direct his thoughts but he planned to take a moment or two during the day to go somewhere quiet and ponder their sacrifice; the Navy Yard had plenty of suitable places.

The reason for his introspection was his normally ebullient, and often annoying, senior field agent who had been uncharacteristically downbeat for a few days. It had begun when Tony DiNozzo had requested a few days' vacation over the Veterans Day holiday.

Flashback:

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said with exasperation, "what's this?"

"Leave request, Boss," said Tony.

"We agreed," said Gibbs, "we'd all work Veterans Day and be off rotation for Thanksgiving."

"Oh," said Tony, "but something's come up."

"We agreed," said Gibbs in a rare concession to democracy, "you all said you wanted Thanksgiving off this year."

"I'll work Thanksgiving," offered Tony, "although I've got enough leave days to take both."

"We're a team," said Gibbs, "you can't work Thanksgiving on your own."

"I could have Veterans Day as well," said Tony hopefully.

"No, you couldn't," said Gibbs.

"Why not?" asked Tony, suddenly aware of a deathly silence in the squad room as people waited for the wrath of Gibbs to descend. "I mean," said Tony deciding to try and make amends, "it's important."

"You can't have the time off because I say so," said Gibbs, "and because other teams will be short handed over the holiday. We all need to be here."

Tony looked as if he might still argue but dispatch called at that moment and the team all grabbed their gear and raced to their latest crime scene so there was no time for continued debate and Tony had not raised the question again.

End flashback

Tony hadn't exactly sulked after Gibbs had turned down his leave request but he had been quieter and more subdued than normal. In some ways a DiNozzo not operating at his usual full blast was restful but it ended up spooking the team who were waiting for the 'other shoe to drop'. Bishop had been the first to take fright and quietly ask Gibbs what was wrong with Tony but she was closely followed by the rest of the team who all seemed to think that Gibbs would know the answer and that Gibbs was the person to fix things. Two Abby hugs a day, frequent cups of Ducky's Earl Grey tea and a McGee offer to fix Tony's wireless streaming in his apartment had all failed to animate Tony and it was clear to his co-workers that cowboy steaks cooked in Gibbs' fireplace were the only answer. Gibbs had resolved to let the team go early on Veterans Day and that he would take Tony back to his place and administer steaks or head slaps as necessary.

As Gibbs entered the squad room he was surprised to see that Tony's computer was already switched on and his coat was hanging on his chair although there was no sign of Tony himself. Gibbs checked the time; he had told the team they could come in later than usual but it was not yet 06.00. It was unlike Tony to come in so much earlier than he needed to.

An agent from the night shift saw Gibbs looking at Tony's desk and hurried over,

"Um, Tony said to tell you he's just heading out for a few minutes. He'll be back soon."

"Thanks, Dutton," nodded Gibbs, "he say where he was going?"

"No. Didn't take his coat though and it's cold out."

"When did he go?" Gibbs wasn't sure why it mattered. Tony wasn't due to start work for another two hours so was free to go out if he wanted.

"Couple of minutes ago," said Dutton.

Gibbs nodded again, in dismissal this time. He walked over to the window and looked out. It was raining and in the distance he saw Tony walking towards the Anacostia. There was something in the way that he was walking that pulled at Gibbs' gut. He huffed in annoyance at himself and turned back to Tony's desk where he once more saw Tony's coat and also his umbrella propped against a filing cabinet. Almost before he knew what he was doing Gibbs had grabbed both the overcoat and umbrella and was striding towards the elevator.

It was a few minutes before Gibbs caught up with Tony but he stopped when he was still a couple of hundred yards away. Tony was standing by a tree and gazing out across the river. Gibbs saw that he was holding a bunch of white flowers. Gibbs wondered if he had just followed Tony to some sort of lovers' tryst and thought about beating a retreat but there was something in the solemnity of Tony's expression which persuaded Gibbs that something different was going on. After a few moments, Tony laid the flowers under the tree and bowed his head.

Gibbs winced at the thought of having to speak but made his way over to where Tony was standing.

"Not the weather for standing around, DiNozzo," he barked.

Tony's head jerked up and he looked in Gibbs' direction. Gibbs wasn't sure if the moisture running down Tony's face was tears or rain.

"Hey, Boss," said Tony, "I'm not late, am I?"

"What you doing?" asked Gibbs as he drew closer. He noticed that Tony had something red in his buttonhole.

"Remembering," said Tony.

"What?" asked Gibbs cautiously.

"Actually, remembering's probably not the right word," said Tony meditatively, "'cos I never knew him."

"Who?" asked Gibbs.

"My great grandfather," replied Tony.

Gibbs felt a release of tension: this wasn't going to be a real sorrow, more a rush of sentimentality. He kept silence. He knew Tony would fill the gap.

"Charles Edward Paddington," continued Tony, "captain in the Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light Infantry. Served with distinction from 1916 to 1918 and was awarded the Distinguished Service Order medal."

"Someone to be proud of," said Gibbs approvingly. He held out the coat and umbrella to Tony but he didn't seem to see it.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" said Tony. "He came home and married Cicely, his childhood sweetheart. His son Martin was born November 11 the following year."

"Gave him a soldier's name," said Gibbs, "Martin's patron saint of the U.S. Army Quartermaster Corps."

"Yes," agreed Tony, "and Martin's someone who laid down his arms."

"OK," said Gibbs briskly, "you finished here?"

"But we haven't been remembering him," said Tony.

"What?"

"Cris … my cousin Crispian … has been doing some family research."

"Yeah?" said Gibbs trying to turn Tony back towards the NCIS building.

"And he realised that nobody ever spoke much about Charles. Great Uncle Clive used to speak about him a bit, he was Charles' much younger brother and wasn't much older than Martin. He told us about Remembrance Day, Armistice Day in the years after the First World War. Charles and the rest of the family would go to a service round the village war memorial in the morning at 11.00. He'd stand there proud and upright, wearing his medals and leading the other villagers as they remembered."

"Good," said Gibbs.

"And, when they got a bit older, Charles would take Clive and Martin back to the memorial later in the afternoon. And he'd lay a bunch of white roses at the memorial cross, away from the poppy wreaths. It was like his own private offering."

"Hmm," said Gibbs.

"I didn't know Martin, my grandfather, very long," said Tony, "but my mom told me once that Charles had been very proud of him; that he took his son being born on Armistice Day as a sign of hope."

"Why white roses?" asked Gibbs.

"Cicely carried them on her wedding day," said Tony, "they were her favourite flower."

"Good story," said Gibbs in a summing up sort of way. Tony remained where he was.

"Martin caught measles when he was twelve," he said.

Gibbs was puzzled. He might have thought this was going to be a tragic tale of a child succumbing to a childhood disease but he knew that Martin had grown up and had at least one child in Tony's mother.

"It meant that he couldn't go with his father to the war memorial. Clive was away at school by then."

"So your great grandfather went on his own?" asked Gibbs.

"Yes. He went to the usual service in the morning. Collected the flowers and visited Martin in his bedroom. Kissed him and Cicely goodbye and went off. Apparently as cheerful as ever. He was always the life and soul of the party. Never down hearted but always optimistic and happy. A great husband and father."

"And?" said Gibbs with a sudden sense of dread.

"He went and laid his flowers at the memorial and they waited for him to come back. They'd just sat down to afternoon tea when the gamekeeper arrived. There'd been a terrible accident, he said, and he'd found Mr Paddington dead of a shotgun wound."

"Accident?" asked Gibbs, "or murder?"

Tony half smiled, "always the investigator, eh Boss? The coroner declared it was a terrible mishap. Said the shotgun must have gone off accidentally when he was climbing over a fence."

"But?" said Gibbs.

"And the family never spoke of it again."

"Until?"

"Until great uncle Clive died and Cris decided to do some family research. Thought he might write a book about the illustrious Paddingtons. His wife Imogen is expecting a baby boy in January, the prospect of being a dad made Cris think of family history."

"Didn't think you cared for Crispian," said Gibbs.

"He's family," said Tony, "and he's got a strong sense of what that means."

"Didn't stop him finding that IOU," pointed out Gibbs.

Tony shrugged. "He's a businessman. He might even have regretted it afterwards. But, when he started looking into the family history he thought I should know."

"Why?"

"I'm Charles' only great grandson. I'm the closest relative."

"What did he find?" said Gibbs.

"Charles' suicide note."

Gibbs nodded, he was not surprised.

"It just said 'sorry'. It seems the family didn't pass it on to the coroner."

"Why not?"

"Shame," said Tony simply, "suicide in the 1930s was not something to be talked about. I guess everyone knew or suspected but kept quiet about it."

"Does Crispian know why he killed himself?" asked Gibbs.

"Found his diaries. On the face of it Charles was easy going and charming. Nothing worried him but his diaries show something different."

"You've seen them?" said Gibbs.

"My inheritance from the Paddingtons," said Tony with a touch of bitterness, "Cris sent them to me. I've been reading them the last few days."

"What do they say?" asked Gibbs gently.

"He was a tortured soul," said Tony. "You know, I thought I knew about the horrors of war. Hey, I've seen War Horse and All Quiet on the Western Front but the diaries are something else."

"They're personal," said Gibbs.

"I guess he had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder," said Tony stoically, "but they didn't know about it then. What he saw haunted him. Ordering his men to go over the top, to their deaths. When he first got to France he had a job behind the front line."

"How long for?"

"Not long. He asked to go to the front."

"Brave," commented Gibbs.

"He didn't think so," said Tony, "he was assigned to help with court martials. He saw young soldiers being sent to the firing squad for cowardice. He couldn't bear it."

"Tony …" breathed Gibbs.

"I think he lived with the guilt of consenting to them being killed."

"It wasn't his fault," said Gibbs.

"Would that help you?" demanded Tony. Gibbs remained silent. "And then he saw the horrors of the trenches. People dying, the wounded crying out wanting to die. Young conscripts weeping on the night before an assault and him having to send them out anyway."

"War is terrible," said Gibbs feeling inadequate."

"And when he came home he saw his beautiful fiancée, his family so pleased he'd survived. And he couldn't bear to tell them how awful it had been. He didn't want to soil their innocence; that's what he wrote in his diary. So he carried it as a burden. Thinking he had to be the old Tony …"

"Old Charles," corrected Gibbs hastily.

"Yes, of course," said Tony, "the old Charles. And there were moments of hope. Marrying Cicely. Martin being born. And Martin wasn't a family name. I think he chose it because it could mean two things. He could keep his cover. Martin the soldier and Martin the man who turned from being a soldier."

"What happened to your grandfather?"

"Followed in his father's footsteps. Served in the army in the Second World War. He was awarded the DSO as well. He served in Italy, you know. Mom and I used to wonder if he'd been in campaigns against any DiNozzos left in Italy."

"War's complicated" said Gibbs.

"Mom was born just after the war ended," said Tony, "so that sort of followed family tradition as well."

Gibbs was trying to think of something to say when Tony spoke once more, "he had the same birthday as me, you know."

"Who?" asked Gibbs who was trying to keep the generations straight in his head.

"Charles," said Tony.

"You're not him," said Gibbs fiercely.

"Don't know, Boss," said Tony, "life and soul of the party. Charming. And good looking apparently. Ring any bells?"

"Just means that you were both people who keep things hidden, people who are more serious than they let on," said Gibbs trying to find reassuring words. "And things are different now. We wouldn't be ashamed of struggling with the horrors of what we see."

"Really?" said Tony sceptically, "if I came into work saying I was having nightmares about a decomposing body, you're saying you wouldn't just head slap me into next week and tell me to pull myself together?"

"I wouldn't do that, Tony," said Gibbs seriously, "if I could see it was affecting you, if you'd let anyone see that you were struggling."

"And that's the thing, isn't it?" said Tony, "I'd have to tell you. You wouldn't be checking to see if I was all right because you might run into some of those annoying emotions that some of us have."

"I could tell something was bothering you the last few days," said Gibbs patiently, "and I was about to do something about it."

"Yeah, OK, Boss," said Tony in an unconvinced voice.

"Tony, we all deal with things differently. Your great grandfather was a brave man. A hero. He did what he thought was best for his family but he paid a terrible price. Learn from him. Learn the dangers of what he did and think about how you deal with the horrors of what you see."

"Yes, Boss."

"And Tony, you can come to me. I know I'm not the best with words but I'll try. You don't have to do things alone."

"Thanks, Boss."

"So why did you come out here at 06.00?" asked Gibbs.

"Oh. It's 11.00 in England. The family were going to the war memorial to remember Charles Paddington for the first time in years."

"And you wanted to be there?" said Gibbs as he realised the reason for Tony's leave request.

Tony shrugged. "Charles' name has just been put on the village war memorial. He was a casualty of the war as much as the men who died on the battle field and he was going to be honoured as such for the first time."

"I'm sorry, Tony," said Gibbs.

Tony shrugged again, "doesn't matter. I chose this spot because the tree is like one in the grave yard where Charles is buried. And I laid my flowers at the same time as the family did. I'll go next year. See the new little Paddington - who's going to be the first Charles Paddington in many years. My great grandfather is going to be remembered again."

"And the poppy?" asked Gibbs pointing to the decoration in Tony's buttonhole.

"It's different to the one Ducky gets sent from Scotland, isn't it?" said Tony. Ducky always sported a red poppy in the days leading up to November 11th. "Cris sent it to me from England. I'd have worn one if I'd been with them so it made me feel a part of it."

"You finished here?" said Gibbs.

"Yes, thanks, Boss."

"You've got a lot to be proud of, Tony," said Gibbs, "a brave great grandfather and a grandfather."

"I know."

"And they'd be proud of you, Tony. A brave great grandson and grandson."

"Thank you, Jethro." It was a moment of solidarity, Gibbs as friend rather than demanding boss.

"Now put your damned coat on before you catch pneumonia!" Gibbs raised his hand but it was to squeeze Tony's shoulder rather than deliver a head slap.

"And steak tonight?" said Tony hopefully, "Cris sent the medals as well. I can bring them if you'd like to see them."

"Sounds good," said Gibbs, "it would be an honour."

AN: St Martin of Tours is interesting – sometimes regarded as a patron both of soldiers and of conscientious objectors.

Here in the UK we wear poppies in the lead up to both Remembrance Sunday (the Sunday nearest to the 11th) and Remembrance Day on November 11th. And apparently the poppies we wear in England are different to those worn in Scotland.

Gibbs and Tony are safely back in their boxes … and I didn't hurt them. Apart from Tony's mental anguish and possible pneumonia!