Not a Debatable Issue

"Ducky, really, I think you enjoy torture," NCIS Team Leader Leroy Jethro Gibbs complained, his voice laced with exasperation, as he threw himself down onto his well worn sofa.

"Absolutely, now be quiet and let me give you this painkiller," agreed Dr. Donald (Ducky) Mallard. He rummaged through the medical bag he had brought into his friend's home. Grabbing a vial of clear liquid, he raised it to check the labeling as he spoke. "However, my good man, you contribute to this necessary torture by insisting you have to get out and run down criminals yourself, personally. Let me remind you that you function as a team leader, with the operative word being leader."

Jethro scowled as Ducky swabbed his arm with an alcohol pad and then readied a hypodermic with painkiller. Unable to think of an appropriate response he muttered, "Holding my job against me now?"

Ducky shook his head and replied sternly. "Jethro, you have a team you have nurtured and trained to function as capable agents outside of your presence. As if they had been your own children you have successfully, in stages, moved them towards independence on the job."

"Ok, then, if you insist upon comparing them to personal offspring let me point out that their Father knows best- at all times- every time. They needed me in the field with them today, and will each day they show up for the job."

"Of course," Ducky murmured, patting Jethro on the cheek, "though I assure you I most certainly do not concur. However, your team did bring down the bad guys, though as is evidenced right now, it came with a price. You suffered injury by participating in the process."

He waited several seconds after administering the shot before continuing, "Now, close your eyes and rest. I am propping your leg so that you keep your knee as immobile as possible. The fact that you continue to re-injure this same knee disturbs me."

Gibbs regarded his friend through half closed lids and responded grudgingly, "I can still walk, and if you would stop mollycoddling me I could return to my job and supervise my team. Throwing your weight around at the agency and having me sent home does not become you, Doctor Mallard."

Ducky patted him on the shoulder and began packing his supplies. "All right, Jethro, but let me remind you that you keep such tight control of your team's work time they can not possibly err. Give them credit for maturing."

Before he could turn to leave the NCIS team leader had slipped into sleep.

A scowling Abby sat outside of the assistant principal's office of her high school and did not bother to hide her irritation.

Kicking at the leg of her hard plastic chair she justified her current position with an internal dialogue skewed to her own perspective. Just because she tried to express her personal opinion the sociology teacher had over-reacted at her response, and consequently, the freshman now faced disciplinary action from the dreaded Mr. Marlowe.

It just stank! The whole situation did not merit a visit to the school's office.

She smoothed out her black crepe skirt to lie evenly across her knees and sat up straight, determined to practice deep breathing to take control of her emotions. Her temper, which had flared once the teacher pointed her towards the office, did not need to resurface.

It would not strengthen her best interests to make an administrator mad, also.

Suddenly Mr. Marlowe's door opened and his tall, lanky figure framed the entrance. He stepped back to allow a student to exit.

Slipping around him, an attractive brunette closed her notebook, slid her pen into her diminutive pocketbook, and smiled gratefully.

"Thank you so, so much for allowing me to interview you, Mr. Marlowe," she gushed, and with a start, Abby realized that the interviewer was her very own older sister, Kate.

Could her luck get any worse?

Abby groaned and tried to turn in the seat so that the older girl would fail to recognize her.

Kate noticed her at the same time that the educator did, though, and she narrowed her eyes meaningfully at her sister. Though taller and not as petite, Abby shrank back into her seat and tried to appear an innocent office visitor. The last thing she needed was to have Kate tell her, once again, not to embarrass her in any way now that she had joined her high school.

Two years older than Abby, sixteen year old Kate had made their high school her own kingdom, and as a junior, reigned as a popular cohort with her peers and as a favored student with her teachers.

Poised and regal, she spent a great deal of time maintaining her dignity and refining her speech and mannerisms.

Savvy to the potential drawbacks that could affect her because of her siblings, Kate shot another angry glance at the little criminal.

Abby dropped her gaze to focus on her hands, and felt tears fill her eyes.

"Hurry on before the bell rings," Mr. Marlowe advised, smiling at Kate, "and thank you for representing the Student Council so responsibly. I look forward to reading your interview."

Focusing fully upon Abby, he shook his head and motioned her into his office. She stood just as Kate passed her, and though her sister did not visibly acknowledge her, as she passed she hissed, "Don't tell him you know me, you little brat!"

Kate flounced out of the office atrium and Abby felt a stab of panic. She would land into a cauldron of trouble if Kate reported her discipline issue to their dad, NCIS Team Leader and Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

On the other side of the high school campus Abby's oldest brother, Tony, strode down the hall to his British Literature class with his arm around the waist of his girlfriend, a petite brunette named Ariel. Snuggled into him as they walked, the couple turned heads. As a senior, Tony was one of the school's stars- not only was he extremely handsome with flashing green eyes and a wonderful physique, but his athletic prowess had contributed to several championships for his alma mater.

His current squeeze fit the description of "stunning" by anyone's definition.

They paused by the door near Ariel's class and Tony leaned down to whisper, "Let me see what I can figure out to do, ok? We might just make that party." He nuzzled behind her ear.

With a giggle she shook her soft curls and pulled away. "Tony, you know better. We'll just have to spend time together at school. No way will you get to that party once your dad sees those grades."

Ariel left him then, floating into her own classroom while he walked further down the hall to his, upset with himself. Ariel spoke the truth about their missing the anticipated party, even if he did not want to accept it yet.

However, his dad had never faltered on his expectations of grades, nor would he suddenly relent and change his demands for appropriate grades. He considered any grades other than A's or B's absolutely unacceptable for any of his four children, a fact well known to all four of their brains.

Tony had earned low marks in two classes, which now lay recorded on his progress report, the same form which required a parental signature and had to be returned to the school the next day.

Tony did not hold out hope for the party, or for his own immediate happiness, for that matter. Not only would his dad hit the roof when he saw his oldest son's progress report, but from past experience, Tony knew his father would ground him as punishment.

Pausing at his classroom door he squared his shoulders and tried to channel positive thoughts. He made the decision to not give up hope until his dad actually held the unwelcome grade sheet, no matter how bleak the situation appeared.

Who knew? Something could very well change. Maybe the teachers of those classes had miscalculated when they averaged his grades this go around. Perhaps they had additional grades not already included, and when added, his scores would jump to A's!

No matter how dismal his circumstances appeared at the moment, he would stay positive.

Gorgeous Ariel needed him.

He wanted to party and shake off obligations and responsibilities.

Tony grinned.