Not everyone was pleased by the arrival of Tony DiNozzo to Sweet Apple. From their place outside the small apartment upstairs, Tim and Ziva listened in as the Gibbs' ranted over the raucous display they'd witnessed at Town Hall; the same display that had put their daughter in a near comatose state.

"I think they regret letting us stay here," Ziva commented. The Gibbs' had graciously allowed them—Tim, Ziva, and Tony—boarding in the tiny apartment. It wasn't large and it certainly wasn't as lush as Tony was accustomed to, but it was better than nothing.

Tim nodded glumly. "Yeah, well it may have something to do with having Tony do close to their young daughter."

"Makes sense. I mean, would you allow him near your daughter? Once you have one, that is," she added with a hinting tone.

"Are you kidding?" he scoffed. When and if he had a daughter, Tony wouldn't be allowed anywhere near her. "Well, I see we're off to a great start here. Five minutes in town and Tony manages to send all the women in the town into a state of shock." He sat down on the steps leading to the upstairs apartment. "Maybe it's for the best that he's going into the army. One swivel and bump of his hips and the enemy will faint straight away."

Ziva laughed at his quip as she sat beside him, snuggling up to him. "That would only work if they were female. Men seem to be immune to Tony's charms."

"Yeah," he muttered, wrapping an arm around her waist, "that's just our luck."

"Where is our rock star right now?"

"Catching up on his beauty sleep. He said the impromptu concert did a number on him."

"Him and everyone else." She adjusted her place in his arms and sighed resignedly. "You realize we will have to assuage her parents. Otherwise they will pull the plug on the entire thing."

He knew it and dreaded it. Neither of young Abby's parents looked like pushovers and speaking with angry people was not one of Tim's strong points. Good thing he had Ziva. "I guess we should get to that now."

Ziva stood and helped him up. She gestured down the stairs. "After you, Timothy."

As expected, the Gibbs' were less than pleased with the living arrangement and with their daughter's impending televised kiss. "Thanks to Mr. DiNozzo's little stunt this afternoon, I've become the laughing stock of my N.O.W. group," Mrs. Gibbs—Jenny, as she insisted they call her—ranted. "They're questioning my dedicated to the liberation of women, especially when they found out I was housing that sex monger."

"Mrs. Gibbs…er…Jenny," Tim said in the most soothing tone he could muster, "I understand this is putting a lot of strain on you."

She shot him a glare. "Mr. McGee, you have no idea. Sweet Apple is a nice town and we prefer to keep it that way."

"Tony just needs to get accustomed to this," Ziva said. "He's used to the big city life."

"That much is obvious," Jenny retorted bitingly. "But this isn't the big city and we don't need this kind of publicity."

"I don't like the idea of that jumpsuit wearing…guy living under the same roof as my daughter," Mr. Gibbs—Gibbs as he'd demanded they call him—put in. "She doesn't need that sort of influence."

"Well, um, sir, he isn't technically living under the same roof…"

"Don't get glib with me, son."

Tim blushed. "Um…sorry, sir, I just meant that—"

Jenny stepped forward, her eyes blazing. She obviously meant business. "Look, Mr. McGee; I don't doubt that you've got a job to do here, but we've got a job as well. We're parents, and part of being a parent is ensuring that your children aren't exposed to such…degradation! Now I am putting my foot down on this and there is nothing you can say that would change my mind!"

They were in a bind and Tim knew it. If Abby's parents weren't on board then all of this—the planning and the songwriting—will have been for naught. They needed to think and think quick. "Well…"

"Well, we haven't told you two the best part!" Ziva, ever quick on her feet, stepped forward and took command of the situation. "You see, Mr. Sullivan has insisted that in addition to Abby being on the show, you and your husband also make an appearance. He wants to show how small towns can raise such wonderful and patriotic young girls."

It was complete rubbish and both Tim and Ziva knew it. The Gibbs', though, had a visible change of heart, particularly Jenny. "Ed Sullivan…he wants…wants us on the show as well?" Her hand instinctively went up to her hair, smoothing it as she imagined herself on national television.

"That's right," Ziva continued. "I do hope you're not camera shy."

"Of course not!" Jenny's eyes were all stars now as she pictured herself there, standing beside Mr. Sullivan himself, while people who knew her watched at home. "Can you imagine what that cold fish Mrs. Miller will say?"

"Now, if Abby isn't going to appear on the show," Tim cut in, pulling the woman from her daydream, "then I don't think Mr. Sullivan will have room for you."

Jenny gave him a look of incredulousness. "Not appear? Of course she'll appear! I could never take this away from her! Besides, she's only doing it for the best of the country, right Jethro?" Her husband shrugged in reply. "Why, she'll be there in her Sunday best. Along with us, of course."

Ziva nudged Tim, shooting him a smile. He winked at her, acknowledging her great idea. "I am very glad to hear that, Jenny," Ziva said. "I am sure Abby too will appreciate it."

The phone came to life with a loud jingle. Jenny—head still in the clouds as she thought about her impending television debut—answered it with a smile. "Gibbs residence."

On the other end was a very irate Mayor Vance. "Jenny, this is Leon. I need to speak to you and Jethro about all of this. I'm beginning to think that this isn't a very good idea for Sweet Apple, being associated with that sex mongrel."

"Leon!" she chided. "Mr. DiNozzo is no such thing! He's a young man who is selflessly going off to defend his country!"

"He was drafted!"

"Regardless, he's doing it! Now don't you think that sets a fine example for you teenagers here?"

"That does, but hip swiveling and grinding don't! It's bad enough we've got that smut on television; we don't need it here! I don't care if it does put Sweet Apple on the map, I want him out!"

Jenny bit her lip as her mind raced. Her chance to be a celebrity was so close she could taste it, but she knew she couldn't cross the mayor. She would need to make a drastic move. "Oh, but Mayor Vance," she said in the sweetest voice she could muster, "I haven't told you the wonderful news!"

"And what news is that?"

"Well, Jethro and I are going to be on the show with Abigail."

Vance was less than impressed. "That's wonderful for you, but it doesn't change my stance."

"Oh, but Leon! They want you to be on the show as well!" She threw Tim and Ziva a quick grin. "They want you to give a speech!"

But the couple was less than pleased. "The mayor?" Tim hissed in Ziva's ear. "We've only got a three minute spot! We won't have time for it all!"

It was true and she knew it. "What else can we do? If we don't suck-up to them we won't even get a one-second spot!"

Jenny's comment had done its job. One the other end of the phone, Vance straightened up. "Me?" he asked as a smile broke across his face. "They want me on the show?"

"That's right, Leon. Of course, if you'd rather cancel the entire thing…"

"Cancel? Why? Just because this DiNozzo guy is a bit on the wild side? No, ma'am! Here in Sweet Apple, we aren't so judgmental!"

She grinned and shot a wink to Tim and Ziva. "I thought you'd see it that way. Yes, of course you'll be at the rehearsal tomorrow. I'll see you then! Bye-bye!" She hung up with a look of great satisfaction. "Well, I took care of that, didn't I?"

Tim exchanged a look with Ziva. "You certainly did," Tim intoned with as must enthusiasm as he could muster. "So…any other people you'd like to put up there? Why not bring up the entire town?"

"Timothy," Ziva hissed with a jut to his side. "What he means is that the spot on the show is only three minutes, so if you want a proper appearance you might not want to invite more people on the show."

"Of course," Jenny said. "We wouldn't want a lot of unimportant people hogging the spotlight from us, now would we?"

"No," the young songwriter said with a sour tone, "we wouldn't."

The door flew open and a petite girl rushed in with a harried expression, followed by a young man who was moving at a much slower pace. "Mrs. Gibbs! Mr. Gibbs!" Michelle shouted breathlessly. "Is it true?"

Jimmy was far calmer. "I told you, Michelle, they're not letting her go on." The young boy looked quite happy about that news. "Personally, I think it's for the best."

"But you can't!" Michelle protested, even stomping her foot for good measure. "You just can't! It'll ruin Abby!"

"Hey, I think they know how to parent their own daughter," Jimmy said. "If they say Abby doesn't go on, then Abby doesn't go on."

Jenny took that moment to cut in. "Actually, Jimmy, after much consideration we have decided to allow Abby to appear on the show."

The young boy did a double take, mouth agape. "B-but…but…"

"She's old enough to make her own decisions and I would never want to stand in the way of such a wonderful opportunity for her."

Ziva almost felt bad for the kid; he was obviously smitten with the girl and no one liked to see their true love kissed by another person, especially on national television. She looked sideways at her boyfriend of six years. If he ever thought of kissing another woman…well, she knew how to take care of that.

"This is crazy!" Jimmy muttered angrily. He shoved his hands in his pockets and paced back and forth. "Just crazy!"

"What's crazy, James darling?"

Six heads shot up and caught sight of Abby descending the stairs. She had arisen from her hip-pops induced coma and was practically glowing. "Good afternoon, mother and father," she said, kissing them each on the cheek. "Miss David and Mr. McGee," she added, nodding to them. "And Michelle and James, what a wonderful surprise!"

Michelle ran to her best friend and enveloped her in a hug. "Oh, Abby! Where is he?"

"Anthony is asleep."

"Can I go see him."

"You may peek through the keyhole." As her friend bolted up the stairs, Abby turned her attention on her new boyfriend. "And James, what were you talking about?"

Jimmy looked down at his shoes. "It's just…well, I…um…" He looked up at the five pairs of eyes watching him expectantly; his cheeks blushed furiously. "Can we talk in private?"

"Of course," Abby said, taking his hand. "Mother, James and I will be in the garden." With that, the two teens strode hand-in-hand out the back door. Despite her mature demeanor, it was clear that Abby was putting on a façade; she was still the same awestruck teen that had fainted at the sight of her favorite rock stars swiveling hips.

Ziva followed suit by taking Tim's hand. "Well, now that we have got everything under control, perhaps you and I should head up to the apartment and plan out the rest of the show.

Tim sheepishly extracted his hand from hers. "Sorry, Ziva, but I've got to call the Sweet Apple Inn and see if mother's checked in."

"Mother?" Her eyes widened in anger. "Your mother is here?"

"Why wouldn't she be?"

Ziva didn't respond. She shook her head in disarray and stormed out. Even in Sweet Apple she could escape the clutches of Mama McGee.

If Tim noticed his girlfriend's ire, he didn't say anything. Instead, he picked up the phone and dialed the number he'd torn from the phone book. "Yes, I'm calling to ask if Mrs. Maureen McGee has checked in…What? No, she had a reservation for the next three days…I made the reservation myself!"

Gibbs gave the younger man a pat on the back. "Don't worry. Sweet Apple's a nice town. Your mother will be fine."

He wasn't convinced by the man's words. "Mother is very sensitive," he said, holding his hand over the phone's mouthpiece. "I can't stand the thought of her wandering around all alone!"

As he continued his frustrated conversation with the man at the Sweet Apple Inn, Gibbs and Jenny stood off to the side observing him with amusement. "Well," Gibbs said in a hushed tone to his wife, "that explains it."

"Explains what?"

"It explains why those two haven't tied the knot yet."