The book found its position in the cradle of his hand as his body found its resting place in the soft armchair. The night had turned chilly, and he had decided to start the fire. The crisp smell filled the living room as the crackling of the flames provided him with warmth—both for his body and his heart.
He had always appreciated these sensations—the warmth of the fire, the softness of his armchair, the smoothness of books—so different from the coldness of the autopsy room and the hardness of the scalpel, not to mention the bodies he was always performing his art on. Ducky loved his work. He loved how death could ironically tell so much about life. But even he needed softness and warmth. He shifted his body slightly in the chair, his fingers gliding over the pages to find its spot. But his thoughts would not let him sink into the tumultuous world of the Tudors.
"What should I do, Ducky?" her voice ranged through his head. Normally, he would have loved to give Abigail some advice, some support, anything. But it had been awhile since Ducky had so thoroughly enjoyed the company and affections of a woman. He smiled fondly as his thoughts lingered on Penny's hands in his, the stars providing cover for their new romance, his heart beating like a schoolboy's.
He wasn't going to tell anyone to break the heart of his Penny's grandson-even if that someone was his dear forensic scientist. Nor was he going to tell Abigail to ignore the doubts lingering in her mind. He hoped a firm but tender 'I cannot get involved in this. You understand, my dear?' would have been enough. And it was—for Abigail, who apologized for getting him involved with a quick, 'Oh, Ducky! I completely forgot about you and McGee's grandmother.' But what may have been enough for Abigail wasn't enough for his mind. As much as he wanted to forget what Abigail told him, as much as he wanted no part in her decision, he knew her decision would change everything. Ducky sighed. He sometimes thought Jethro was too harsh concerning Rule 12. After all, many young people meet and fall in love at work, and it wouldn't be right to keep them apart. But at times like these, he perfectly understood why Gibbs had those rules.
As much he loved the raven-haired goth, he wished she had come to this realization sooner, not after a year of dating with young Timothy ready to propose to her. But he realized a long time ago that Abigail was her own person. Ducky assumed that Abigail had hoped that Timothy would never propose to her, never ask to make that kind of commitment, and she could simply continue being his girlfriend without ever having to analyze her feelings for another man.
"Ducky," she had said earlier that day. "If you were married and she loved another man more than you, if she cared for another man more than you, would you like that? Even if there was nothing romantic or physical going on between them?"
Ducky sighed. No, he wouldn't. But he didn't want to take sides either. "Perhaps you should talk to Jethro about how you feel, my dear."
Ducky hoped that Abigail would tell Jethro her feelings, whatever they were, and get a firm, "I never thought of you as anything but a daughter." And Abigail would feel free to marry Timothy, and Ducky could continue his happy romance with Penny,. Ducky reclined his head against the softness of his chair. But hopes and realities were two different things, and the most seasoned psychological expert didn't dare venture into the romantic feelings of the Marine sniper. And whatever happened, Ducky knew he would be there to pick up the pieces.