One of These Days by rose malmaison
Fandom: NCIS
Pairings: Abby/Tony, Gibbs/Tony
Characters: Tony, Jethro, Abby, Ducky
Genre: Ten years on, angst, core 4, friendship, pre-slash
Rating: FRT
Warning: death of a major character (not one of the four)
Spoilers: Including season 11
Words: 6,800, 2 chapters
For: ncis-discuss dot livejournal dot com
Challenge: The Core 4
Summary: It's the end of the summer in 2024 and a retired Gibbs is hosting a cookout at his house. There is something going on and Gibbs can't figure out what it is. Friendships are tested, relationships shift and they say things they've kept to themselves for years.
Thanks to combatcrazy for a last-minute beta. If you spot any mistakes, please let me know. Comments are always appreciated.
ONE OF THESE DAYS
Chapter 1
One of these days you're gonna love me
You'll sit down by yourself and think
Of all the times you pushed and shoved me
And what good friends we might have been
And then you're gonna sigh a little
And maybe even cry a little
But one of these days you're gonna love me
~ Tim McGraw
Gibbs opened his front door to find Abby standing there, dressed in black shorts and tee, juggling two covered bowls and an oversized handbag adorned with rhinestones in the shape of a skull. She managed to hug him while chanting, "Gibbs! Gibbs, Gibbs! I know I'm early but I couldn't wait."
Gibbs relieved Abby of one of the bowls – it looked like cole slaw with melon slices – before she dropped it. "Hey, Abs. Glad you could make it."
"It's about time you threw a party! I missed you. I hate not seeing you at work every day."
Abby came in, talking animatedly about whatever she had been up to recently but Gibbs could see that there was something going on beneath the bright exterior. This wasn't the time to ask her what was troubling her, so instead he led the way through the kitchen to the patio. "Come on out back. I gotta check on the grill."
Gibbs' back yard was more patio and ground cover than grass, which suited him because he hated mowing lawns. He'd arranged four chairs around the table on the deck, and had raised the umbrella for Abby's sake even though the trees provided ample protection against the late summer sun. "Help yourself to lemonade," Gibbs said, indicating the pitcher and glasses he'd set out for his guests.
Abby put the food she'd brought on the table, set her bag on one of the chairs, and poured herself a tall glass of iced lemonade. "Mmm, good. Fresh-squeezed?"
"Yeah, by someone in California," Gibbs joked. He was glad to see that he was able to bring out a genuine smile on Abby's face.
After checking that the grill was about ready, Gibbs settled next to Abby. She handed him a glass of lemonade and asked belatedly, "Or do you want a beer?"
"I'll wait 'til the steaks are on," Gibbs replied, raising his glass to her. "Cheers."
"Cheers to you, too. I'm so happy you invited me, Gibbs. Boy, I thought I'd never get out of work today, I was so backed up with cases. Sometimes it feels like there's no end to it. As soon as I get the table clear and another set of evidence is brought in. I had to get an assistant who, thank goodness, is not some crazy-head like Chip, and believe me, I checked him out." Abby pulled a face and said, "I even learned to delegate. Imagine me, trusting my lab and my babies to someone else. I must be getting soft in my old age."
Looking at Abby in her shorts and simple black t-shirt, Gibbs shook his head. "You look just the same as you did when you first started at NCIS. Less spikes though." Her belt looked like a chain link fence, and her sandals might have been pink latex, but otherwise her attire was pretty subdued.
She leaned over and hugged him, saying, "Aw, that's so sweet and so not the truth. Except it's safer hugging without the spikes."
There were gray streaks in Abby's dark hair. She wore it loose and it framed her face and curled a little where it touched her shoulders. It was hard to believe, but her fiftieth birthday was coming up soon. Carefully avoiding thinking about how old that made him, Gibbs said fondly, "You're looking good, Abs." She did, too. The years had been kind to her and you'd never imagine she was the mother of an eight-year-old boy, who divided her time between her stressful job and taking care of her family.
Gibbs had always been a part of Abby's life and now he was a part of Evan's, too. He was afraid to admit how much he loved the boy, who had a curious nature and astounding musical talent. Abby believed that Evan was going to stick with the violin now he had tried almost every instrument in the orchestra, but Gibbs had seen the way Evan got lost in the music when he played the piano.
"How's the kid doing?"
As usual, Abby lit up when the subject turned to her child. "He's great. He did not stop talking about the science museum for days after you took him there.
Gibbs chuckled. "You shoulda seen the way the kid's eyes widened when I told him he could get inside the space capsule."
Abby squeezed Gibbs' hand. "You're so good with him and he loves you."
Eight's a good age, Gibbs thought. Earlier that summer, he had taught Evan how to dive off the dock at the lake near his cabin. Gibbs had even spent a rainy Sunday afternoon at the movies with Evan, watching the latest kid-flick followed by an early dinner out. Even though Abby was strictly vegetarian, Evan was not. Predictably, the boy had ordered pizza with sausage, pepperoni and extra cheese.
Abby sipped her drink and looked sideways at Gibbs. "How was your sailing trip? Getting used to retirement yet?"
It was a ritual of theirs, Abby asking if he was enjoying a more relaxed lifestyle while knowing he was having difficulty acclimating to having so much time on his hands.
"Weather stayed good and my new joints got a workout," Gibbs allowed.
He'd spent almost two weeks navigating the Chesapeake in his 40-foot Amigo sloop, enjoying a kind of solitary freedom he'd rarely had before. Except, at some point being alone out on the water had changed to being lonely and he'd headed home. The loneliness persisted once Gibbs was back in his own house, and he found himself yearning for something that he couldn't have any longer – his life as an agent. He missed the investigations, the excitement, the danger, and the high he got when they brought a criminal to justice. Nothing could match the feeling of satisfaction when he'd broken a suspect during an interrogation.
Gibbs missed his team, too, but most of all he missed Tony. For so many years he'd taken his second-in-command's presence for granted but now…now he was lucky to share a beer and steak with him on the rare occasion when Tony had a free evening. And when they did get together, it was as if nothing had changed.
Gibbs never would have taken retirement as a field agent if he hadn't been sidelined by injuries. He'd needed surgery on his shoulder after a bullet had shattered the bone and as soon as he'd recovered, debilitating pain had forced him to have a much-delayed knee replacement. Even though the two surgeries had been relatively successful, they'd taken their toll and he'd been unable to pass the NCIS physical. That had been a damned hard blow. Sitting at a desk was not an option so Gibbs had neatly avoided the party the brass had thrown in his honor and instead took his team out for drinks.
At least the director had listened to his recommendations and had promoted DiNozzo to team leader, and had given McGee the choice of his own team in another city where there was an immediate opening. Instead of leaving, McGee had decided to stick with DiNozzo, Dornegat and Bishop for the time being. "Just until something opens up in DC," was what McGee had said.
That was over a year ago.
Since he'd retired, Gibbs had spent a lot of time working on his boat. This was probably going to be the last boat he'd ever build in his basement. At least she had made it into the water. But boredom was starting to settle in and he needed something new to work on. So far he hadn't decided which direction to go in.
Consulting for NCIS was an option even though Fornell had told him he was crazy when Gibbs talked to him about it. "For God's sake, Jethro, act your age. Embrace your retirement years."
"Might take up teaching at FLETC," Gibbs said casually to Abby, just to see what she thought about it.
Abby smirked at him over her glass of lemonade. "We took bets, you know, on how long you'd hold out before you got back in the game, Gibbs."
He'd figured as much. "Oh yeah? Who won?"
"Nobody yet. Have to wait for you to actually take a job, not just talk about it." Abby leaned back and inhaled deeply. "Ah, this is a nice way to wind up the summer. It's been ages since we relaxed and had a cookout. And when's the last time we saw each other, anyhow?"
"We see each other every couple of weeks," Gibbs pointed out.
Abby rolled her eyes. "I mean really see each other, not just to say hi when I'm heading out my front door and you're picking up Evan."
She was right. It had been far too long since the four of them had got together. "Where is Evan today?"
"At Breena and Jimmy's. She's pretty brave, taking her four kids and mine to the mall. Evan's sleeping over at their house, which he's thrilled about because he loves playing with her boys." Abby said with a smile, "It'll be good to see Ducky. I haven't seen him in a while. It seems like he's always traveling, lecturing on forensics or heading off on a wine-tasting trip." Her expression turned sad and she clasped Gibbs' hand. "Only…I wish that Timmy was still here. I wish…"
"Yeah, me too," was all Gibbs could say. It had been only a few months and the sense of loss was still very strong. "You okay?" he asked because he had to say something.
Abby nodded. She released his hand and started fussing with the plates and utensils, laying them out for four people with unnecessary precision. Suddenly she stopped, a fork in her raised hand, her gaze a thousand miles away. "Delilah said that he was just sitting there in the garage. The car still running with the music on. They were going away for a romantic weekend and he'd promised to be home early."
Gibbs knew all this. He had kept up with what was going on at NCIS, and what his team was up to, as did Ducky. The former ME had shown him the report that confirmed that McGee had died of natural causes, an aneurism.
Abby turned to Gibbs, unshed tears brightening her eyes. "Did you know that the week before he died, Tim had these really bad dreams about getting shot on the job, so he wore his vest every time he went out of the building? Tony teased him mercilessly, called him McKevlar and McIronMan6, and now he feels so bad about it and wishes he hadn't been so…so Tony."
"Tim understood where Tony was coming from. If there wasn't teasing, it would mean there was something wrong." Gibbs put an arm around Abby's shoulder and kissed her temple when she leaned into him. "Tim knew that Tony cared. We all care. That's what makes us family. That's what counts."
"It was hard enough dealing with losing Tim without seeing Tony going through a meltdown every time someone mentioned Tim's name," Abby said in a strained voice. "Tony didn't want me to see that he was crying so he hid out in the basement and sanded wood until his fingers were raw. He pretended his eyes were watering from the sawdust." Abby smiled wanly at Gibbs. "He reminds me of you, with your boat, only Tony makes guitars, which is good because our basement is really small and we don't have room for a boat because the washer and dryer take up half the space. I remember the first one he made, when Evan was getting his tonsils out. It looked good but the tone was off. Not that Evan cared. He loved that guitar because Daddy made it for him." She paused and then added, "Tony says working with the wood is his way of sorting out his thoughts."
"Yeah, I know all about that, Abs. I'm glad he's got that outlet." Gibbs remembered all the hours Tony had watched him working on one project or another over the years. Tony had been there through the creation of several boats, and Mike's casket, and then furniture and, once again, a sailboat. At some point Gibbs had looked up from sanding a hull to find Tony working by his side, following his every movement. From then on Tony had no longer been an observer. "I'm glad my teaching paid off," said Gibbs. He'd seen Tony's guitars, beautiful instruments that created rich melodies when plied by skilled fingers.
"You're the best teacher, Gibbs," said Abby. She pushed back her hair as if she were also pushing away the sadness of losing Tim, and took a deep breath. Raising her empty glass, Abby suggested, "I think maybe it's time to drink something stronger, don't you?"
"Sure thing," Gibbs agreed. "You know I'm proud of you, Abby."
She bit her lip and looked away but he could see the tears in her eyes. It was Abby who had spoken so eloquently at Tim's funeral, and she was the one who had held it all together throughout a difficult time, better than the rest of them. He shouldn't have been surprised because she was one of the most resilient people he knew. Abby said that she had to be strong for the sake of her son, who didn't understand why Uncle Tim had gone away. "Evan…he's my whole world, Gibbs."
He was Tony's world, too. It showed when you saw them together. Tony spent all his free time – which wasn't a lot – with Evan, and he always made sure that their time together counted. "I tell you this, Gibbs, I will never be like my father, promising something and not following through." Tony had mentioned that he was going to cut back his hours at work, but they both knew that being the team leader was more than a full-time job.
So, with Abby and Tony's blessing, Gibbs took Evan out on excursions, taught him how to fish and how to box, how to avoid conflict or to defend himself if needed, how to follow a trail in the woods and how to salute properly. Abby had shown her son how to be creative and enjoy life and Tony had introduced him to the wonders of the Marx Brothers and Magnum P.I. And Ducky, he'd shown Evan how to pull a coin out of someone's ear and he was the one who explained that when someone close dies, it's okay to still enjoy yourself.
They stood side-by-side, beers in hand, while Gibbs checked the grill. "If they don't come soon, we'll start without them," he threatened.
Abby asked cautiously, "Is he coming?"
She meant Tony, which left Gibbs wondering why she didn't know what her own spouse was up to. "He sent me one of those twixt message things a couple of hours ago. Said he was coming," Gibbs assured her. Still, there was a tension about Abby's mouth that seemed out of place and she looked positively guilty. "What's going on? Is Tony okay?"
"Promise you won't get mad?"
Gibbs' stomach tensed. "I won't get mad." If he did, he'd keep it to himself.
Abby looked into Gibbs' eyes for a long moment and then nodded. "I'm not supposed to tell you this. He said he'd talk to you himself." She hesitated before launching into an explanation. "Tony ended up in the hospital yesterday. He chased a suspect out a second-floor window and ended up getting sort of banged up and he was released last night and was supposed to be resting today. I called from work but he hasn't answered his phone, and you know Tony never follows doctor's orders, but if he sent you a twixt then he must be okay, right?"
"Damn it, Abby! Why didn't you call me?"
"Because he asked me not to," she said, raising her voice right back at him.
"Why the hell not? I could have…" God knows what he could have done other than pace the hospital corridor and sit next to Abby for short periods, offering a shoulder to lean on. He hated not being in the loop. He hated it when any of his people was hurt – when Tony was hurt.
"Look, I'll call him again," Abby said to placate Gibbs, but it was soon obvious that Tony wasn't picking up.
Gibbs was about to question Abby about the severity of Tony's injuries when he heard Ducky's '64 Morgan sputter and cough as it pulled up in front of the house. He went out to greet his old friend and noticed that the car had a dent on the rear mudguard. The classic car looked like it needed a bit of TLC.
Ducky came up the front walk, a carrier bag in hand. "Additional libation," he explained, and then launched into a story as to how his beloved car had sustained damage. "…a runaway shopping cart, a dear woman carrying a very small poodle and…"
Gibbs tried not to show his concern at Ducky's slow pace. The former ME was leaning heavily on a cane, which was new since the last time they had seen each other. Gibbs didn't remark on it – after all, Ducky was eighty-four – but he deftly took the heavy looking carrier bag out of Ducky's hand.
As they stepped inside, Ducky suddenly changed the direction of his conversation. "Have I told you that I have booked a tour of wineries in Spain? I am looking forward to tasting Vinos de Castilla, a beautiful wine rivaled only by the region's beautiful women," he said with a twinkle in his eye.
Once in the kitchen, Gibbs pulled the wine from the bag. The labels were in French and looked unpretentious. Probably expensive. True to form, Ducky started in on a tale about his exploits in France when he and Gibbs were on an assignment, although he lost his train of thought as soon as Abby came in and threw her arms around him.
"Ducky!"
"You look lovely, my dear. I was just reminiscing with Jethro about our swift retreat across the English Channel in a rather leaky sailboat that Director Shepard procured – although this was long before she was a director, of course."
"I'd loved to have been there," Abby said, linking her arm in Ducky's.
They went out onto the patio and Gibbs asked her, "You get hold of Tony?"
Abby rolled her eyes a bit. "He says he'd turned his cell off and only just remembered to turn it back on. He'll be here soon."
That only slightly mollified Gibbs, who needed to see Tony with his own eyes in order to be assured that he hadn't been injured too badly. If the hospital had released him so quickly last night then surely that was a good sign. Except Tony still had a bad habit of signing himself out early.
"Ah, how splendid," Ducky exclaimed as they all sat down with snacks and drinks in front of them. "The four of us together, good friends enjoying good food. As soon as Anthony arrives, of course. How is the dear boy doing, by the way, Abigail?"
"Working hard. Best closure rate since Gibbs' team," Abby said proudly. Gibbs noticed she didn't mention that Tony had been hurt. "Ooh, I have new photos of Evan!" Abby brought out photos to show Ducky and they chatted, bringing each other up to speed about what had been going on in their lives – Abby about family and work and Ducky about his travels.
Needing something to do while waiting for Tony's arrival, Gibbs went into the kitchen and pulled more beer and a pasta salad he'd made out of the fridge. The low roar of his Mustang announced Tony's arrival as he pulled into the driveway. Gibbs could see through the kitchen window that Tony was easing himself out of his car with the kind of caution that clearly showed he was still hurting. "Damn it, Tony," Gibbs muttered.
Tony leaned back in and pulled out a large foil-covered dish. He stood there for a long moment, looking towards the house, and Gibbs got the impression that Tony was preparing himself for something unpleasant.
Tony seemed startled when Gibbs opened the front door but he quickly broke out in a wide smile. Unlike Abby, who was pale and wearing black, Tony looked tanned and summery in a white polo and tan shorts. He looked so damned good – so attractive with the hair at his temples going gray and laugh lines at the corners of his eyes that really were from laughing – that Gibbs was immediately turned on. He found himself staring at Tony as if he'd never really seen him before. Unable to come up with anything adequate to say, Gibbs blurted, "Where the hell have you been?"
End chapter 1
