A/N: This chapter was originally posted on another website as part of my "Twelve Days of Fandom" at Christmas. It was a standalone titled "Six Short Backstories," and it spans a period of a month or two, beginning before Gibbs met Tony and ending shortly after the last chapter. It won't flow quite right with the other chapters, but it felt even worse to make it a separate story under the circumstances, so . . .

Gibbs was sixteen when he won his Games with a shot from his sling that was as good as a sniper's.

Gibbs was twenty when he married the girl with a set of rules that got him back on track from the wreck of nightmares and arguments with Franks and his dad.

He was twenty-two when Kelly was born.

He was twenty-eight when his disdain of Snow went a bit too far and a Peacekeeper went "rogue" and killed them. He was still twenty-eight when the Peacekeeper died, but he looked far older.

"Jethro, you must eat something," Ducky said, knocking over the gathered bottles to make room for the dish he carried.

Jethro blinked up at him from his place on the floor. "Doc," he croaked. "Whatcha doing out here?"

"Cleaning up," he said tartly. He started shuffling the bottles into a trash bag, full and empty alike.

"Franks call you?" he asked, lurching to his feet.

"I called myself," he snapped. "He's no better off. You'll both pickle your livers at this rate. I've buried far too many patients with preventable diseases. The two of you will not be next."

Jimmy waited outside the doctor's door. Normally he'd be dancing with impatience, but today he sat slumped against the wall.

Dr. Mallard appeared from around the corner. "Ah, Jimmy! Just had a few early morning patients to attend to. How's your mother?" He started rummaging in his pocket for his key.

Jimmy swallowed. "Not - not very well, sir, but the price of bread went up again, so she told me to tell you not to bring the medicine by this week."

Dr. Mallard paused in the act of turning the key in the lock. "Now that won't do at all. Hm. How do you feel about becoming my assistant?"

Head Peacekeeper Vance glared at the reports of Franks' recent activities. The man was up to something, he just knew it.

A hesitant knock trembled at the door. He sighed. "Come in."

Young Palmer slipped inside with a vial of his headache medication. Vance took it gratefully and counted out the money for it.

He took a long drink the moment the door closed again. His headache vanished.

Two hours later, it was back and worse than ever.

Mayor David looked down at his Tali. A bullet had ripped through her.

"The Peacekeepers guarding the fence were jumpy," Head Peacekeeper Vance said. "They'll be punished."

Someday, Eli thought. Someday, yes, they would be.

Tony waited until his father was busy helping the mayor pick out a casket before he ran off.

Gibbs always came to his family's graves on Tuesday afternoons, and Tony was running late. He thought Gibbs liked the company, but his father didn't like it. Tony would pay for it later if he was caught.

Gibbs was still by the graves, under the graveyard's sole tree, when Tony ran up. "Hi," he panted. "You okay? You've been out here awhile, and it's kind of cold." Tony shivered in the old suit jacket his father thought added class to the funerals.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow and took off his own fancy Capital coat before wrapping it around Tony.

"That's not - " Tony protested.

He stopped. He'd reached up to take the coat off and give it back, but doing so had revealed his wrist and, more importantly, the ring of bruises on it. And judging by the expression on his face, Gibbs had seen it.

Tony winced. Ever since the first time they'd met, when Gibbs had found him asleep on his mother's grave, he'd been careful to hide the bruises.

"It's not what it looks like?" he tried. Anything to keep Gibbs from confronting his father.

Gibbs knew better, he could tell, but he didn't push. Instead he said, "You up for working on the boat?"

Tony brightened. The boat meant Gibbs carefully teaching woodworking for hours in his warm house instead of Tony having to return to the freezing funeral parlor. The boat meant staying for a supper of recognizable meat. The boat meant falling asleep on the bench and waking up in the safe coziness of the guest room.

The boat meant his dad would be mad later, but looking at Gibbs, that might not be a problem after all.