Spoilers: Unending

Season: S10 of Stargate SG-1, After S5 of NCIS

Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

Author's Note: Many thanks to Eleri for another excellent beta and for suggesting the title. You do probably have to know both shows to 'get' the story.

Aloha Oe

Tony DiNozzo was having a good day. He was a happy man. Sure, he'd been late to work, but no one seemed to notice. Okay, maybe McGeek had noticed. And Ziva. But McGeek didn't count and Ziva noticed everything. The main thing was that Gibbs wasn't there when Tony sat down at his desk and apparently had appeared and disappeared again while Tony was visiting the john. So no smack upside the head and in Tony's book that made this a good day.

He was basking in the feeling of happiness when everything went pear shaped. As Julia Roberts said in 'Notting Hill,' "Happiness isn't happiness unless there's a violin-playing goat" and Tony's goat hadn't arrived yet. Instead, there was a phone call and a phone can never substitute for a goat, violin-playing or otherwise.

"Agent DiNozzo," he snapped efficiently into the receiver, all professionalism, as behooved the acting agent-in-charge, at least while the Boss was somewhere being all disappeary and Boss-like.

"Where's Gibbs?" The man on the other end of the phone was clearly not having as good a day as Tony if his tone was anything to go by.

"I'm afraid Special Agent Gibbs is not at his desk. May I help?"

"You can tell me where Gibbs is."

Shrugging his shoulders in answer to Ziva's raised eyebrows, Tony took a breath, smiled and tried again, this time emphasizing the Boss's correct title even more than he had the first time. "As I said, sir, Special Agent Gibbs is not at this desk. Would you like me to take a message? If you could give me your name-"

He was interrupted.

"I've left two messages on his phone already, so there's really no ... Oh, don't worry about it!" Tony could have sworn the man growled as the call was disconnected. He sat, staring at the silent receiver for a few seconds until McGee called out.

"Tony?"

"Um?" There was something about that voice, something niggling at the back of his mind that had him worried.

"Is anything wrong?"

"Nope, McNosey, just some guy wanting Gibbs. And, by the way, where is our fearless leader?"

Ziva answered, smiling that know-it-all little smile of hers that always made Tony feel uneasy. "He went to get coffee. He did say he was looking forward to talking to you when he returned."

Oh crap. It looked like Tony's day had gone from good, to uneasy, to downright worrying in the space of a few minutes.

Then it went downhill even further.

"DiNozzo!"

Tony leaped out of his chair at the shout. "Here, sir! I mean, yes, Director?"

Vance was at the top of the stairs to his office, leaning over the banister, his face slightly red like he'd been running. "Where's Gibbs?"

Thankful he knew the answer to what seemed to be the question of the day, Tony shot back, "Getting coffee, sir."

"When he gets back tell him to check his damned messages!"

Tony's 'yes, Director' was said to a retreating back and then the vigorous slamming of an office door, making further conversation impossible.

When Tony turned he found Ziva and McGee making their way to where he stood.

"What's going on, Tony?"

He shook his head in answer to McGee's question. "I've got no idea."

"Yes, what is going on, DiNozzo? You were late for work because…?"

It was testament to just how often Tony had experienced the Boss's ability to sneak up on him, that he barely flinched.

"Sorry, Boss, won't happen again. You need to check your phone messages, Boss."

Special Agent Gibbs, holding coffee in each hand, raised one gray eyebrow.

"No really, Boss. Some guy called a few minutes ago asking for you and said he'd left a message. Then Director Vance said to tell you to check your messages. He sounded pissed, Boss."

"Then I suppose I better check them."

It didn't appear to Tony that Gibbs was taking this as seriously as he should. The Boss walked to his desk, in what to Tony seemed slow motion, and carefully placed the two coffees down in the space between his inbox and his outbox. It was almost as if he wanted to get Tony into trouble, because Tony was sure that was what would happen if Gibbs didn't check his messages ASAP. He, not Gibbs, would somehow be to blame for the resulting catastrophe. He stared, knowing his fellow agents were also watching, as Gibbs pushed the appropriate buttons and listened.

"Hell!" Gibbs was finally taking the situation more seriously if his reaction to the message he'd heard was anything to go by. DiNozzo slowly sank into his chair, every sense straining to pick up any information they could as the Boss rapidly made a call.

"Jack, it's Gibbs."

That didn't tell him much. He glanced over at Ziva and McGee, but they each gave a small shake of their head. They were as equally in the dark as Tony.

"When?" The answer to Gibbs's question can't have been what he wanted to hear. "What! But it's not ready." The Bossman was not pleased. "Another day at least, unless I have help." There was a pause while Gibbs listened, then he sighed. "Okay, my place then. You know what to bring. And Jack – just you, all right?"

Gibbs glanced around the office as he finished the call. McGee was engrossed in something mysterious on his computer and Ziva was leafing through a report. Tony was – caught looking at the others.

"Is there a problem, DiNozzo?" The Boss could do that bland look and make him feel like he was a naughty school boy so easily.

"No, Boss." Tony shook his head emphatically. "No problem here."

"Good. Keep it that way. I'll be out of the office for the rest of the day, so you're in charge." Gibbs stood, grabbed one of the coffees and downed the contents.

"What should I say if the Director asks, Boss?"

"Tell him I got the message." Tossing the first coffee cup in the trash, Gibbs picked up the other and drank it as he shrugged his arms into his jacket. Within a few seconds he was out the door.

Turning to the others Tony saw the same puzzled looks on their faces that he knew was on his.

"Any idea what that was all about?" McGee asked.

"No," Tony replied, "But I intend to find out."

Major General Jack O'Neill stepped out of the long, black, official government car and sent it off with a wave of his hand. It was bad enough that he had to use it, and a driver, but he didn't want any of his various lackeys following him today. He slung his bag over his shoulder, walked to the door of the nondescript suburban house and pushed it. Naturally it opened, allowing him easy entry. He glanced around, and seeing no one, made his way down the short hallway to the basement door. It also opened when he turned the handle and he took a few steps down the flight of stairs until he could see the house's owner.

"You really need to be more security conscious, Gunny."

Gibbs looked up, wiped his forearm across his brow, and stepped back from the plank he was painting. "You can talk, General. Last time I visited it took you an hour to even realize I was in your house."

"Yes, well, let's not get into that, shall we?" Jack gestured at his uniform. "I'll be right back as soon as I get out of this monkey suit."

"You got something to change into?"

He nodded. "Yep, I came prepared. "

It only took him a few minutes to change into jeans and T-shirt and he was back downstairs. "How's it looking?"

"Like it should take another two weeks at least." Gibbs glared at him, obviously very annoyed. He handed Jack a brush. "Here, the paint's over there."

Jack took the brush and was soon painting the side of the sleek wooden vessel. It was quite a while before he broke the silence. "You know this isn't my choice, right?" He kept his eyes fixed on his task, just as he knew Gibbs was doing. "This shouldn't have to be rushed."

"So why is it?"

"It's a special order, not like the others. The others were business deals, you know that, don't you?" This time he did look up, seeing the way the other man's hand clenched a little tighter on the brush handle. "And you know what we got for them. You know it was worth it."

There was a reluctant nod. "I get it, Jack. The greater good and all that. New technology that can protect us from our enemies, hell, protection for us all, for Earth, but we agreed I could work at my own pace. What's different now, what's changed?"

"Everything." Jack put the brush down carefully and stretched, easing some of the tension in his back. He wasn't getting any younger and the bending was already getting to him. That and the stress of the last few days, since he'd been told. "This is the last order, Jethro. It's special. It's a farewell present." He blinked away what he was sure were beads of sweat. Damn it was hot down here. "It's personal."

He heard Gibbs move, a brush put down, and footsteps approaching, but he was too busy rubbing the sweat from his eyes to look.

"What's happened?"

Another blink and he could turn to face the other man. "The Asgard are killing themselves, Gibbs, that's what's happening. Mass suicide so the secrets of an already dying race don't fall into the hands of the Ori. Adios, farewell, sayonara. They're falling on their swords for the greater good. No more need for boats." He kicked the cupboard nearby before he even knew he was going to do it. He was so damned angry!

"When?"

"Another few weeks yet. I was told early. No one else knows." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Just me."

A hand briefly squeezed his left shoulder then it was gone as if it had never been there. "I'm sorry, Jack, I know how much..."

"Yes, well, let's not dwell." He took up the brush again and turned back to the boat. "I'm sorry I'm rushing you, Jethro, it's just that I want this one to be enjoyed for as long as possible."

"We better get working then." Jack didn't need to look to know Gibbs was focused back on the job ahead.

Hours later, as the light of the new day began to glimmer through from the rooms above, the two men stopped and stepped back. The boat shone brightly with new paint and varnish, its copper fittings gleaming.

All that was needed was a name.

Gibbs carefully selected the appropriate brush and in strong confident strokes wrote 'Thor' upon starboard side, near the stern.

The damn perspiration was getting in his eyes again. Jack didn't wipe it away this time, instead he tugged his communicator from his pocket. "Ready to transport."

"What the hell was that!"

Tony peered out the car window, the blue light that had glowed from Gibbs' house already gone.

"What? What did you see?" Ziva sat up, startled, her eyes wide.

"I'm not sure." There wasn't anything now.

"Maybe you fell asleep and it was a dream. We've been here for hours." McGee was already settling down again in his seat, yawning widely. "I say we call it a night. Gibbs is probably just having a quiet night in with an old friend."

"Yeah, you're probably right. We've only seen the one guy go in."

"And we do know," added Ziva, "who it was that contacted Gibbs. Major General Jack O'Neill, United States Air Force."

"But we don't know how Gibbs knows him and why he's just spent a whole day and night in his house," Tony muttered. "And what hold he has over the Boss."

"Perhaps he has no hold over Gibbs, perhaps they are just friends. And we don't know what General O'Neill actually does because McGee could not find out."

"I tried," McGee protested. "I couldn't break through his department's security."

Tony took another long, hard look at the house. It was quiet. Everything was quiet.

"I guess we'll have to puzzle it out another time. Let's go home."

The End