Tony groaned and rolled over to shut off his alarm. For the third time that morning. Maybe I should just call in sick. No. Wouldn't fly with Gibbs. He would know. But then, maybe that's exactly why I should call in sick. Gibbs would get it.

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo never particularly enjoyed getting out of bed early in the morning, but that wasn't abnormal: most people don't. But he would usually turn off the alarm, roll out of bed, get a shower, coffee and be ready to face the day. But today wasn't a normal day. Today was exactly one year since the day they began investigating The Case. And that wasn't the worst of it. Next month would be the real challenge: the one year anniversary of the deaths of long-time Chief Medical Examiner and friend Dr. Donald "Ducky" Mallard and Special Agent Timothy McGee. Tony's best friend, though he wasn't likely to admit that part.

"Hey Boss, it's Tony." After a pause and responding grunt that acknowledged someone was actually on the other end of the phone line, he continued. "I'm a bit under the weather. Not gonna make it in today."

"You can't just crawl under a rock. Won't change anything."

"I know, but…"

"If you can't handle today, how are you gonna manage…"

"I know, I know. Gibbs, I just can't."

Gibbs sighed. "Take the day. Don't lose your phone."

"I got it. Rule number five."

Tony made his way to the kitchen and stared at the coffeepot. He dismissed the idea, opened the cabinet and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. This matched his mood better today. He had nowhere else to be. No one to see. Kate was dead. Jenny was dead. Ziva left. Ducky was dead. Tim was dead. Abby had left. Gibbs had pulled away and was a shell of his former self. Nothing would ever be the same, and it was all his fault. Well, the last case was, anyway.

Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs sat at his desk, scrolling through photo after photo of perp after perp. Much like after Kate had been murdered, Gibbs had become obsessed with finding the men responsible for Ducky and Tim's deaths. A man with a vengeance. A dog with a bone. He would get his man eventually.

"Excuse me, Agent Gibbs," a timid voice asked.

"What?" Gibbs asked impatiently without looking away from his photos.

"Um, Director Vance asked me to get permission…"

"If Vance needs something he doesn't need my permission."

"Yes sir," the voice walked away.

Gibbs thinks it was probably Mutt. Jeff was down in autopsy with what's her name, the new medical examiner. Helen? Yeah, like Helen of Troy. She was a looker.

Gibbs wasn't sure when he stopped learning the names of the people on his team, but he wasn't the same leader he had been. He got results, but there was no caring – no father figure crap. The first two were Laurel and Hardy. The next, Thelma and Louise. Louise was a former football pro from the deep south and hated the nickname. Probably why he didn't last. Pity.

Gibbs rolled his eyes at the fact Tony wasn't here. He counted on his senior field agent to liaison between him and the rest of the team. Again, he wasn't sure when he stopped mentoring…probably when he lost three of his family members in one fell swoop.

"Gibbs," he answered curtly when his cell phone rang.

"Hey Jethro," Fornell replied, his tone all business. "FBI just picked up the Bixby brothers and their crew."

Gibbs didn't say a word, simply lowered his coffee cup, grabbed his keys and sidearm, and then headed toward the elevator.

"And?" he asked, still moving.

"And there's something else," Fornell hesitated.

"I gathered that," Gibbs answered with frustrated tone.

"One of the gang is claiming to be one of yours."

"What?!" Gibbs shouted as the elevator doors opened to admit him. He was oblivious to the fact that every eye in the squad room was trained on him.

"It's true, Jethro," Fornell continued.

Tony groaned, belched, winced and then reached for his ringing telephone. He groaned again and grabbed his head.

"Ugh," he muttered. "Gave at the office."

"Are you sober?" The tone in Gibbs' voice was enough to bring him around. Sort of.

"I'm…moderately functional," Tony answered, muffling another belch.

"I'll take that as a no. Get some water and a change of clothes. Mutt or Jeff will pick you up in ten."

"Not coming in today," Tony reminded his boss.

"Tony, just do it," Gibbs interrupted. "Tim's alive."

"What the f….?" Tony stared at the phone. Of course Gibbs hung up. Tony wouldn't need coffee now: he was wide awake.