Special Agents Tony DiNozzo and Tim McGee were alone in the squad room and working, more or less diligently, on cold cases. It was nearly 4pm on Friday and they were hoping for a rare weekend off although Agent Gibbs had been in a meeting with the Director for half an hour and that rarely led to a good outcome.

"What do you think El Jefe is doing up there?" Tony asked as he closed the file he had been leafing through fruitlessly for twenty minutes.

Tim shrugged; he didn't know but his file was being equally miserly with juicy clues and he was ready to be diverted. He looked up and gazed up at the Director's office as if that would help him decide.

"Don't know, annual appraisals are due?" he offered.

"Good point. But they're not overdue yet, so I doubt the Boss has done them yet."

McGee nodded. He was relieved that he didn't have to face that trauma yet. It wasn't so much his own appraisal which was the problem although Gibbs' way of delivering the assessment tended to lack finesse. No, the real trauma arose with Tony's reaction to the results which was a curious mixture of nonchalance, bravado and obsession with the significance of each comma and period in Gibbs' report.

Tony was about to offer his own opinion on the Vance/Gibbs meeting when he was forestalled by Gibbs trotting down the stairs.

"Good meeting, Boss?" he asked neutrally while keeping his fingers crossed that they hadn't just been assigned a case which would last all weekend.

"You can go home now," said Gibbs, ignoring the question, "both of you."

"Boss?" asked McGee in surprise although he began to clear his desk even as he spoke. Tony had already switched his computer off and Tim winced at the thought that he probably hadn't closed any open programs. McGee hoped he had only had his movie quiz or Tetris open and that he wouldn't have to spend Monday restoring the DiNozzo computer to health.

"Go on," said Gibbs, "start the weekend early." His own desk was already clear and he was putting his coat on. Tim and Tony stood at their desks, ready to go.

"Have a good one, Gibbs," said Tony.

"See you Monday," said Tim.

They walked a couple of paces towards the elevator. Gibbs coughed. Tony and Tim stopped in their tracks; there was something odd about that cough. They turned towards their boss.

"Uh," he said, not meeting their eyes but concentrating on collecting his weapon, "I just told the Director that I'll be retiring at the end of the month. Good night." And he was gone, leaving his two agents gaping after him.

NCISNCIS

Tim wasn't quite clear how he and DiNozzo had ended up in a bar a couple of miles from the Navy Yard. He could only think that Tony, as befitted the Senior Field Agent, had come to his senses more quickly and had steered them both to some sort of sanctuary and got the pitcher of beer in.

"I can't believe it," said Tim. He had the feeling that he'd already said that a few times but, at that moment, there didn't seem to be anything else to say.

"I guess we shouldn't be surprised," said Tony, "after all, we all know that the Boss was coming up to the line," he took a sip of his beer, "just never expected him to step over it."

"I can't believe it," said Tim again.

"Did he jump or was he pushed?" wondered Tony.

"I can't believe it," was still all that McGee could say.

"Perhaps it's a joke," suggested Tony, "What do you think, Tim?"

"I can't believe it."

"I know it's difficult, Tim," said Tony trying to be patient, "but we have to face it."

"I can't believe it," said Tim.

Tony opened his mouth to answer but realised he had didn't have one so lapsed into silence. After five minutes of quiet only broken by the McGee chorus of "I can't believe it," Tony decided to assert himself. He coughed and Tim looked up hopefully; it was a 'taking charge' sort of cough.

"If we're going to get drunk," announced Tony, "I don't want to do it on an empty stomach. Let's order some food."

Oddly, ordering food with its careful weighing up of good and bad cholesterol, its consideration of carbohydrates versus protein, of fibre versus fat calmed Tim down. Tony, who had placed his order of steak and fries within seconds, sighed with relief when both orders had been made.

"Why do you think he told us like that?" asked McGee. Tony raised an eyebrow. "I guess we shouldn't be surprised that he didn't make a fuss," agreed Tim, "but that was a bit …"

"Extreme?" finished Tony, "even for Gibbs?"

"Yes," said Tim, absentmindedly stealing one of Tony's fries, "you don't think he's sick, do you?"

"Doesn't look like it," said Tony, "that head slap this morning felt healthily strong. Perhaps he's getting married?"

"Or fleeing the country because a redhead is after him?" suggested Tim.

They paused to imagine a panic stricken Gibbs running from a rampant redhead.

"Nah," said Tony finally.

"You going to ask him?" asked Tim.

"Me?"

"You've known him longer. And as you're always saying, you're the Senior …"

"… Field Agent. Yeah, I know. Not sure this is in the job description."

Tony took another gulp of his beer. He didn't seem to notice McGee's continued raids on his fries.

"Have I ever told you my Gibbs theory?" he asked.

McGee took a moment to consider. Tony seemed to have theories about most things and had favoured McGee with many over the years but he couldn't remember one about Gibbs. The shock of Gibbs' announcement was beginning to fade and McGee was in a mellower mood and ready for an excursion into what he had once called the 'rabbit warren' of Tony's mind. He was also calculating that he stood a stronger chance of continued incursions on Tony's plate of food if Tony was distracted by giving McGee the 'benefit of his experience'.

"No," he said, "don't think you have."

"Guess."

This was an unforeseen complication. Tim thought quickly. Tony's fingers were poised over a particularly fat fry which Tim coveted. A distraction was needed.

"He's gay?" offered Tim.

This worked better than he'd expected. Tony's fingers jerked back from his plate in shock. Tim's hand made its assault with all the deadly accuracy of a cruise missile.

"Gibbs gay?" mused Tony, "it has the benefit of alliteration," he conceded, he steepled his fingers, "but I'm not sure it fits the facts. What's your evidence, Tim?"

"Evidence?" squeaked Tim, blushing even at the thought of investigating whether Gibbs was gay, "I didn't mean it!"

"Oh," said Tony.

Tim couldn't decide if Tony was relieved or disappointed that McGee hadn't compiled a complete dossier on Gibbs' sexual orientation. It looked as if Tony might want to consider the issue a bit more fully so Tim hastened to ask,

"So what is your theory? You know, about Gibbs?"

"Well," said Tony casting a bewildered look at his empty plate, "you'll agree that our whole team has character … well … idiosyncrasies which only become apparent after long acquaintance?"

Tim smiled. He could tell Tony was in a good mood, he was using long words and forgetting to pretend that he didn't know what they meant. McGee nodded,

"Yes," he said, "wait a minute. What are my idiosyncrasies?"

He cursed himself for this rookie error; he had given Tony an opening he would not ignore.

"Well," said Tony happily, "you are the most law-abiding person I know."

Tim nodded. That didn't seem too bad.

"You never drive over the speed limit," continued Tony, "you close every gate after you, never walk on the grass, pay all your bills on time and never eavesdrop on a conversation."

Tim relaxed a bit more but then Tony's eyes narrowed and he leant forward in a slightly menacing way,

"And yet," he said.

Tim leant back into his chair,

"And yet," said Tony, "put you in front of a computer and you turn into this different person. You break down firewalls, ferret out information … you seem to regard secret data as both a personal challenge and an affront. You must admit that qualifies as an idiosyncrasy."

Tim fidgeted uncomfortably and reached for casualness and a change of subject, "So, what's your Gibbs' theory?" he asked.

Tony didn't answer immediately but gazed at Tim with something like sorrow, "you have to be careful, McHacker. I don't want to have to visit my Probie in prison, you know."

The strange picture of him looking forward to a DiNozzo prison visit to brighten his incarcerated life popped into McGee's head. He shook himself, "I don't think you've got a theory," he said, hoping to divert Tony from this uncomfortable train of thought.

Tony looked as if he was considering continuing the fight but he seemed to decide the pleasures of talking about his theory outweighed those to be had bantering with Tim.

"He's shy," he announced.

"Who is?" asked Tim.

"Gibbs. Gibbs is shy."

"Gibbs?"

"Yes."

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs? Ex-marine sniper? Ex-gunnery sergeant? Our Boss?"

"Yes."

"He's shy?"

"I knew you'd agree."

"That wasn't agreeing," said Tim, "that was still a question."

"Oh," said Tony, disappointed.

"What makes you think Gibbs is shy?" asked McGee but before Tony could answer, he continued, "Gibbs is the most confident person I know. He isn't frightened of anything or anyone. He's not shy."

"Ah, ah," said Tony, "I grant you that he's confident in what he does. But just look at how he deals with people."

"I am," said Tim, "he's frightens them to death."

"But that's because he's basically shy," said Tony.

"What?" asked Tim.

"It's smoke and mirrors," said Tony, "smoke and mirrors."

"What?" said Tim again.

"He's worked out that if he terrifies people, they won't want to interact with him. They'll leave him alone and they won't know that he's frightened of them."

"Frightened?" said McGee sceptically, "Gibbs? Frightened?"

"OK," conceded Tony, "frightened might be too strong a word. But the principle is still there. Gibbs is shy, doesn't know how to interact with people so he scares them off."

"So, all that barking and roaring is just for show?" asked a still doubtful Tim.

"He probably doesn't even realise it now," said Tony, "it's become natural for him but I think, right at the beginning, it was a way of coping."

"Coping with what?"

"Coping with the fact that his talents and compulsion to serve led him into work situations which needed a high degree of social interaction and communication."

"Wow," said McGee, "you've really given this some thought, haven't you?"

Tony shrugged modestly, "So what do you think?"

A thought struck McGee, "so, does it take one to know one?"

"What?"

"Do you recognise Gibbs as shy because you are too?"

"Too what?"

"Shy. Because you're shy."

What seemed a genuine laugh shook Tony's body, "Me? Me, shy?" He choked as he tried to gather breath.

"OK," said McGee, deciding to save the question of Tony's possible shyness for another time, "so, what is your idiosyncrasy?"

"What?" said Tony carelessly.

"You said that everyone had their idiosyncrasy. What's yours?"

"I'd have thought it was obvious," said Tony.

"Your nose," said Tim promptly.

"What about my nose?" said Tony defensively.

"It's big," said Tim.

"It's not," said Tony indignantly, as he stroked the feature in question, "it just fits the nobility of my profile. Gives it character. It might look large on other less well-formed faces but on mine it …"

"OK, OK," said McGee, "I …"

"And anyway," said Tony, "a nose isn't an idiosyncrasy. It's a physical feature."

"I apologise for drawing attention to your noble feature," said Tim, "so what's your quirk?"

"You mean it's not obvious?" said Tony with a touch of sadness.

"Not to me," said Tim promptly.

"Because you think I'm perfect?" said Tony hopefully.

Tim could not think of a reply that would be both truthful and tactful so he kept quiet.

"I need affirmation and to know that I'm loved," said Tony.

Tim thought about pointing out that that was two idiosyncrasies but decided not to, "now that you mention it," he said carefully, "I can see that in you."

"But, unfortunately," said Tony, "my talents and compulsion to serve have led me to a team of emotionally stunted introverts who are incapable of appreciating me."

"Your compulsion to serve?" asked McGee.

"Yes," said Tony in a hurt voice.

"You?" said Tim.

"Hey, I let you eat my fries, didn't I? That was serving you, wasn't it?"

"Yes, you did," confirmed Tim, "and it was serving me. Thank you, Tony. I didn't mean to be insensitive." McGee realised that if he had eaten more than his share of the fries then Tony had drunk more than his share of the pitcher of beer. DiNozzo wasn't drunk but his emotions were nearer to the surface than usual. McGee decided to turn the subject back to Tony's analysis of Gibbs' character.

"You really think that the key to Gibbs' character is that he's shy?"

"Well, perhaps not the key," admitted Tony, "but it explains a lot of things."

"Like?"

"Three marriages."

"You think being shy gets in the way of getting married?" asked Tim.

"I don't think it helps," said Tony, "and it certainly doesn't help with staying married."

"How so?"

"Sometimes small talk is really useful," said Tony, "you know, fills those silences. Can you imagine how many silences there were chez Gibbs while he was married?"

Tim wasn't convinced, "what else does it explain?"

"Today," said Tony.

"Eh?"

"The way he told us that he's retiring. He didn't know how to tell us so he decided to break the news as if it was completely trivial and routine. And then legs it before we can ask him about it."

"Damn," said Tim.

"What do you mean? You agree with me?"

"No. Well, maybe. No, I said damn because I'd forgotten for a moment."

"Forgotten what?"

"Forgotten that Gibbs is retiring. Damn."

"I know, Probie, I know," said Tony heavily, "what are we going to do now? What will we do without him?"

AN: there may be another chapter to come in which Tony and Tim face their Gibbs-less future and make decisions.