Dear all, new readers and old readers,

It has been a while since my last update...a little over a year ago, so I'm not kidding. Life. You know it.
I don't know exactly what got me reading my notes again, but here it is: a new chapter.
I realize that the story is procedural and most of you who now got an alert will have forgotten all about it already, but I think this chapter is actually a good place to get back into it - and if not, I'm hoping to include a short in-story summary in the next chapter.
So, yes, I'm actually planning to continue, because I want to at least get to some kind of conclusion to the build-up in this story. Firstly, because that's about as far as my notes from way, way back go; and secondly, because I think you deserve to know where this story was headed.

Thank you for reading.

Coginom

Chap 20 Past Forward

Monday, March 29th 2021

When Tony stepped into the lab that morning, his footsteps drowning out the echo of the familiar 'ding' of the elevator, Abby whirled around immediately with a satisfied grin on her face. "You sent a courier with my morning CafPow fix", she called out reverently, her arms flying up beside her face as if on the verge of hugging him.

A soft smile settled on Tony's face. "I had an early meeting in MTAC today and I knew you'd be in processing the stuff on Leahy's shooting, so…"

She finally took two steps towards him and engulfed him in a hug. "Thank you", she said, holding on for a while before drawing back. She looked at him, her face set in utter seriousness. "And I really mean that. Thank you. Do I tell you that enough?"

"Probably", Tony quipped, offering her a crooked grin.

She gently patted his shoulder. "Really, thank you."

There was a comment on the tip of his tongue, but he blinked it back. There was something utterly sincere in Abby's eyes, not the customary glint of playfulness, and he wanted to mind that. "That the mock-up of Leahy's shooting?", he asked, turning their attention to the simulation on Abby's computer behind them.

Abby kept her gaze on him for another minute, then spun around and took her usual place. "Yep."

Her fingers glided along her keyboard and the screen zoomed in and slowly rotated the image, previously fixed on the expressionless face of the victim stand-in, around its body and then followed a red line from the side of its head to the empty multistory building framing the parking lot where Leahy had been shot the day before.

"Factoring in the angle, at which the bullet penetrated Leahy's skull, the location data Tim took and the blood spatter on your clothes, I placed the shooter on the fifth floor of this building", Abby narrated, zooming back out to emphasize the position of the building in relation to where they had been standing. "Which is great, 'cause Metro found nothing where they suspected the shooter, but their preliminary measurements were half a story off."

Tony nodded, a small appreciative smile flittering across his face as he replayed the events in his head. Ziva and he had both had either their back or their side turned towards the building. Neither of them had been prepared to be scouting for sniper nests right outside Washington DC.

"I gave Ziva and Tim the address two hours ago", Abby continued, her forehead creasing with soft wrinkles. "They should be RTB by now."

Tony nodded. "They are. McFinicky is still busy filing the field report and indexing the evidence. And Ziva just left to give her speech at David's school."

"Profession Day", Abby surmised ominously. "Sounds totally not like Ziva's thing."

Tony half-laughed. "It's not. But it's for David, so she'll manage."

Abby still looked a bit unsure. "You don't think-"

Tony cocked an eyebrow, answering definitely, "I don't think."

Abby knew when to stop probing and returned to the evidence, leading him to the evidence table in the middle of the room. She held up an empty jar and deftly wiggled it in front of Tony's face, causing him to frown. "So, obviously, I'm still waiting to tell you anything on the bullet."

"I figured as much."

"But I can tell you something about the stuff Leahy collected on the people he thought were out to kill him, which… They really were."

She offered him a supportive smile and showed him the envelope he had first watched Dustin Leahy bring along to their meeting, then watched fall from his lifeless hand only to land next to his corpse, and eventually bagged for further processing. Taking a look inside, he found photos and discs. "And?"

Abby bit her lip. "Nothing-"

"Abby, come on-"

"Really. The photos show some presumed ransacking, clothes hanging out of drawers, books lying on their shelves, pictures askew. But it's nothing really to go on-" Tony opened his mouth to say something, but Abby shushed him with a quick jolt of her hand. "Yes, I did give them a good hard look and I looked for details that might help us, but…nothing. I'm sorry."

Tony nodded anyway. "And the discs?"

"Audio recordings of prank calls", Abby explained, her expression not changing. "A lot of breathing and crackling. Nothing you wouldn't also get in the first half-hour of a C-class horror flick."

He raised his eyebrows. "So, I can go?"

Abby shook her head, the smile finally returning to her face. "You ordered a full processing of Leahy's house, remember?"

Tony laughed softly. "Yeah, I remember."

"Well, they found pieces of wall or paint where there shouldn't be any pieces of wall or paint", Abby declared, the giddiness of evidence-finding sifting through her voice again. She indicated the aforementioned pieces in a jar on the other end of the table. "It's gypsum-based material."

Tony waited for a moment, enjoying Abby's bright expression but growing impatient. "So, I can go now?"

"Nope", Abby chimed, grabbing his arm and tugging him back to her computers. "Abby's Rule number three: Always leave on a high note."

"Well, hit it then."

Abby grinned, starting to tap into her keyboard once more. "Major Mass Spec and I processed the pieces and we found traces…of mold."

Alerted by the reverent tone in her voice, Tony's face contorted in a bit of future pain. "You gonna get love-sick with mold again?"

Abby cocked her head to the side. "My mold turn-on is reserved exclusively for McGee nowadays."

Tony held up his hand, not needing to hear more. "From what I picked up so far, mold's really hard to specify, right?", he inquired, keen on going back to the evidence again.

She actually looked a little proud as she pulled up the picture of the mold and zoomed in on the micro-specifics. "I think it might be Sachybotrys, filamentous fungi that reproduce asexually."

"Now, there's the stuff", Tony smiled.

"But it will take some time till I have anything more specific."

"You know where to find me."

Tony was just about to leave when he almost bumped into McGee who in turn was apparently just on his way in, an evidence jar with a shell casing in his hand. "Shooter positioned himself on a small ledge on the fifth floor", he announced at once. "Ziva says the adjoining buildings curbed tangential winds. He had a great shot."

"Not so great from where I was standing", Tony growled, taking a few steps back into the room.

"And we found this", McGee tapped the evidence jar, "lodged in a crack between doorframe and support beam."

"He didn't police his brass?"

McGee shook his head. "The casing got jammed. We had to use some real force to get it out. Maybe he was in a hurry to flee the scene?"

Tony's forehead set in deep wrinkles, his mind scrolling through the time frame of the shooting and the appearance of Metro PD officers on the scene. "He would have had enough time to shoot me and Ziva too", he mused, his voice low. "There was nothing to take cover behind and enough time to do it."

"So, it was only about Leahy?", McGee concluded.

"Yep, and we have no idea why."

Tony had soon left Labby Land after noticing the pointed looks Abby and McGee were giving each behind each other's back. Leahy's shooting and the subsequent hubbub had distracted his usually impeccable sense for knowing when something was messing with someone in his family. He remembered Ziva's and his concern with their friends' behavior when they had collected Liora that fateful Saturday morning. He had left the lab to allow them some privacy and to deal with whatever it was that needed to be dealt with. With Ziva gone for lunch he had opted to skip it altogether anyway. Instead he had preponed the sit-rep with Director Vance, in the course of doing so also getting in his and Ziva's note from Dr. Somers regarding their dutiful completion of the mandatory psych eval. Despite all this, however, he made a note to make up for his lack of attention to what appeared to be serious problems on the McGees' side that same evening.

He was sauntering down the last few stairs leading into the squadroom, when all pondering was cast aside in favor of welcoming David and Ziva who were just exiting the elevator. A smile sprang to his face as he watched their son talking excitedly up at Ziva who in turn sported the most content smile he had seen on her face in two days.

Over six years ago, when Tony had held Ziva's hand and together they had stared at the positive pregnancy test, they hadn't exactly planned for another child. Sure, looking at their little boy, they had both occasionally played with the thought of it, but they had never actually talked about it in the sit-down-and way. Ziva's surprise-pregnancy had been followed up by even more talk, though. And one thing they had agreed on, most definitely, had been to treat their children the same, try not to favor, try to apply the same rules and accolades. As far as they could say they had kept to that agreement.

The same could be said for the kids themselves. They weren't outright favoring one or the other parent, but naturally there was a certain bias in different aspects of their life. As such, for instance, Tali couldn't deny the status of a real 'daddy's girl' and Tony might have fended off the odd remark to that effect - but never without a knowing smile. That didn't mean that she loved her mommy any less, but seeing as father and daughter were so much alike there was simply a lot of understanding where otherwise explanation would have been needed. On the other side of the family portrait David worshipped his dad, but Ziva was kind of like his personal hero. The little boy reminded Ziva so much of her late sister, but with so much of herself thrown into the mix of his personality there was a connection between mother and son that went a little deeper than any other.

Tony checked his watch. It was a tad early for David to be finished with school already. "Hey there!", he greeted, meeting them at the entrance to the bullpen. "How was your show'n'tell?"

Ziva rolled her eyes at his semi-apprehensive, semi-smirking intonation. "It was good", she assessed simply.

David, on the other hand, seemed sincerely excited as he lodged himself right between them. "Did you know that mom can speak nine languages?"

"I cannot speak all of them equally well, David", Ziva cautioned.

Tony smiled. "Nine? I always thought there were more…"

She could see the mischievous edge his smile had gained. "Depends on who is listening…and what I am talking about", Ziva retorted quietly, putting on a small seductive smile. Their eyes remained linked for a second in a knowing gaze, a speck of intimacy in their exchange.

David, of course, was oblivious to the overtones. "We even got to go home early today."

"There was a conference", Ziva added explanatorily.

"You back already?", McGee called over, returning from the lab and shooting David a big smile of welcome. He was always delighted to see his nephew. He loved both Tali and David, but having been such a big part of David's life during Tony's days in Rota, there was a lingering connection.

"Hey Uncle Tim, were you in the Army too?" The eight-year-old quickly stepped up to his uncle, seizing him with an expectant gaze.

Meanwhile Tony and Ziva hung back. "So, it went well, huh?", Tony deduced, leaning in closer to his partner.

Ziva smiled a half-smile, her eyes resting on her son as he talked away energetically while McGee was trying to issue a G-rated explanation as to the different systems of national defense in the US and Israel. Tony followed her gaze and his smile, if possible, became even bigger. "Looks like we gotta start finding you a superhero costume."

She finally waved him off. Nonetheless, she couldn't deny the feeling of pride very close to her heart upon her son's excitement, a feeling of pride that had settled and stubbornly remained right there for the best part of the last few hours. "He seems pleased", she stated quietly.

"And you?"

"I…did not like how much I evaded the truth today." She shot her partner in life and work a fleeting, knowing glance.

"Looks like it paid off, though." He took another half-step towards her, the fingers of his left hand enclosing hers and squeezing them in a short, simple gesture. The edges of her mouth twitched upwards before he re-established the accustomed work-distance between them.

Their eyes remained on David and McGee for some time until suddenly Tony's eyes glazed over. He slightly lifted his chin, giving the office air around them two, three, four good sniffs. "Wait", he exclaimed, drawing all three pairs of eyes towards him, "Gibbs is here."

"Uncle Gibbs is back?", David called out eagerly, instantly starting to turn into every direction a couple of times in the hope to catch a glimpse of his grandpa/uncle/uber-boss.

Gibbs himself, Ducky too, and on two separate occasions his parents had all explained to Tali and him why the two older men had embarked on their trip. David, personally, thought that he had sufficiently grasped the concept of retirement. Basically, it meant that his dad was now the big boss. That was kind of awesome. However, it had also meant he hadn't seen Gibbs and Ducky for quite some time now. And that had been nowhere near awesome. He missed both of them, Gibbs particularly. Sure, when his dad had returned he hadn't been spending as much time with his Uncle Gibbs as he had before, but they had still gone to dinner at his place every week, and Tali and he had had sleepovers there, and sometimes he had even helped Gibbs on his latest boat all by himself. If they were back now, though, all the better. Maybe they could start on another boat now. Or on a tree house. A tree house would be really nice.

"Here", Tony declared, picking up a Styrofoam cup from his desk. "That's not mine. I stole a mug from Cynthia today." He took a good long sniff, painting equal looks of disgust on Ziva's and McGee's face. "Empty, and disastrously strong." He put the cup back down with a muffled clonk, stepped away from his desk and sniffed again. "The faint odor of Chanel No. 51 and 'Don't mess with me'."

"What the-", was all McGee could utter as they kept watching Tony take yet another two steps to the side and kneel down on the floor paneling with a look of intense concentration.

Ziva wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to laugh out loud or yank her partner back upright. Right now she was debating with herself if Tony was having one of his wackier days or if he was simply putting on a show to entertain their son. She didn't have much more time for internal debate, however, as Tony shot back up into a standing position.

"A pin", Tony exclaimed triumphantly, eyeing the inch-long item with eyebrows knitted together. "A pin used to keep pre-tied bow ties in place. Right on the way to the one elevator that leads down to autopsy."

"Uncle Ducky's back too?", David asked with equal excitement as before, looking up at his mother with hopeful eyes. Ziva could do nothing but shrug her shoulders.

"That's just a pin, Tony. From some folder, or piece of clothing, or mail cart that make their way through here every day", McGee reasoned, yet unable to keep the small smile off his face.

Tony was having none of it anyway. "Follow me", he proclaimed simply, leading the way to the elevator.

Ziva and McGee gave each other matching looks of confusion, but neither found the heart nor the logic to start arguing with Tony on this right now. And besides that, David was certainly enjoying himself. The little boy had already trotted after his Sherlock-y father as both remaining agents simultaneously decided to just roll with it.

Right before the elevator doors opened, Tony turned back towards Ziva ever so slightly, and winked at her - ever so slightly. "See that?", Tony called out, his outstretched arm indicating the rim of a hat distinctly visible beyond the thick double doors leading into the autopsy room.

Tony gave each of them a look of absolute triumph before leading their way through those doors to find - surprise of surprises! - Gibbs lying on the second stretcher to the right, his eyes closed to their incoming.

"Ah, I see we have been made", Ducky announced himself with a big smile, coming in from the adjacent room with Palmer by his side.

"Uncle Ducky!", David called out, already rushing over to give him a hug.

Ziva couldn't help but mimic her son's actions, going over to deliver her welcoming hug with less force than her eight-year-old son, but her smile might have just been surpassing David's. She held onto Ducky for quite some time and the older man responded with equal delight. When they drew back, Ziva kept her hands on his arms, willing him to register the full radiance of her smile. Ducky had always had the most calming presence on her. And she was, to say the least, feeling conflicted right now, with their case and its twists and turns; feeling apprehensive. For what it's worth, she felt relieved to have him back. And Ducky could see right through her smile. He gently patted her arm before moving to receive hugs and handshakes from Tony and McGee.

Meanwhile, David had stepped over to the stretcher his Uncle Gibbs was lying on, gently inching closer in an attempt to examine his status. Suddenly, Gibbs groaned and his eyes shot open. David jumped back momentarily, causing the other adults to chuckle.

"No need to jump, buddy", Gibbs croaked and ran a hand down his face. A smile settled on his features. "C'mere and give your old Uncle Gibbs a hug." He opened his arms and David gladly stepped into his embrace. Ziva also went up to him as the older agent got up. He gave her one of his sincere crooked smiles, kissed her on the forehead and engulfed her in a hug.

As he moved on to welcome McGee and Tony, the latter took a good long look at the homecoming men. Ducky appeared sincerely rested, a little rounder in the face than before they had left, his hair was neatly in place and his clothes seemed shiny and new. Gibbs, on the other hand, seemed to be running on quite the lack of sleep, sporting a gruff look and wearing a long-sleeved hoody over his shirt. "Red eye?", Tony quipped and took an observant, and careful, step back from his former boss.

"Jethro maybe, but I am far too old for shenanigans like that", Ducky explained, his voice sounding as chipper as ever. Had he been a bit morose before their semi-joint trip, that appeared all gone now. "I arrived two days ago."

"And you didn't call?", Ziva retorted quickly.

Ducky looked on innocently. "Dr. Plamer here knew."

Their eyes wandered over to jointly glare at the man in question, and Palmer gazed back at them sheepishly. "Sorry guys, with all that's happened and a colicky baby, I-"

"It's okay, Jimmy. Don't get your scrubs in a twist", Tony said with a good-natured pat on the back, which Jimmy received a bit timidly.

"Did you really see grizzly bears?", David asked suddenly, his eyes trained on his Uncle Gibbs. "'Cause I kept all your cards and there was a grizzly bear on one of them like- like seven feet tall and dad said you probably ate that one for dinner."

Gibbs frowned at Tony for a second, then turned his attention back to the little boy by his side. "Nah, didn't kill one. But I saw one alright."

"Really? Can you-"

"David", Ziva cut in softly, putting a hand on her son's shoulder. "How about we let your Uncle Gibbs get some rest for a bit and then I am sure he will tell you all about his trip."

David turned from his mother to Gibbs for reassurance. Upon the older man's nod, David relented. "Okay."

"I guess, I'll read you in tomorrow then", Tony added, slinging an arm around Ziva's waist and drawing her into him. He didn't see why he shouldn't. There was no one around but family.

Gibbs gave him a crooked smile. "Good thinking, DiNozzo."

"Temporary reinstatement, huh?", Vance repeated Gibbs' words, a smirk dropping from his lips. He leaned back in his chair, entwining his fingers in front of him.

"Or something like that", Gibbs mumbled, clearing his throat. He shifted his weight to his left foot, casting a quick glance out of the bay window behind Vance's desk. A scenery he had not seen in quite a while.

Vance seemed deep in thought for a moment, scanning Gibbs' posture. "How 'bout we treat you as an invaluable accessory with limited access? How's that sound?", he asked eventually, already opening one of the drawers on the right side of his desk.

Gibbs threw his head back slightly in a faint nod.

"After all…", the director drew out the words while fishing for a particular document. He put it on the table, turned it towards Gibbs and slipped a pen out of his pocket, offering it to the older agent. "You're not NCIS anymore."

Gibbs laughed slightly at this, quickly drawing the pen across the dotted line. "Doesn't feel that way."

"Well, doesn't mean you're ostracized from the family." Vance smiled, picking up the signed form and giving it a pointed shake.

Gibbs chuckled, already turning around, doorknob in hand. "See ya in the morning, Leon."

Ziva placed the rim of the conic glass gently on her lower lip as she proceeded to stare at the neatly arranged battle line of colorful liquor bottles that backed up the bar she was currently sitting at.

"Had a hunch I'd find you here", McGee declared with a knowing smile, taking a seat on the stool beside her.

"Yes?", Ziva returned rhetorically, setting the glass back down. "How is that?"

"Saw Tony leave for the lab with a bags full of takeout", he clarified, placing his usual order. "Always the best indicator." Silence engulfed them for a while as they both waited for a glass to be put on the napkin the waiter had just dropped in front of him.

"You do not need to uphold…traditions if you want to be with Liora, you know that." Ziva turned towards her partner-in-the-field and friend of longer, a smile playing on her lips. "I am perfectly fine by myself tonight."

"Nah", McGee waved her off, smiling, "Gibbs likes his sleepovers crowded."

"He sure loves their attention", she added wistfully.

"And showering them with it."

Ziva nodded eventually, not looking at McGee and rather playing with the stem of the glass. They had tried fighting Gibbs on the matter of taking on the kids on his first night back, but he had deftly ignored them. Tali had been just as excited about his return as David and even though he might not have admitted it, but he had missed his grandchildren - no need denying it. A smile planted itself firmly on their faces as they remembered both the kids' and Gibbs' excitement, ever so different in quality, upon their delivery at Gibbs' house. All four of them had routinely checked up on the Gibbs residence, cleaned here and there, checked the mail. If anything, they had all wanted to allow Gibbs to slip right back into his life alongside them.

McGee watched her for a while in the corner of his eyes, accepting his drink and taking two obligatory, silent sips before he turned back to look at her. "Still reeling from the Israeli reminder?"

Ziva snorted slightly. Her eyebrows rose. "Tony thinks I am overreacting."

When she finally turned to look at him, his knowing smile was waiting for her. "Which you are?", he inquired tentatively.

The tips of her mouth shot upwards ever so softly. "Which I am…always… I am entitled to overreact when it is about the kids."

McGee's eyebrows rose slightly. "Is it?"

Ziva gave a faint but noticeable nod. "My gut says it involves us…me. And then it involves them as well."

"You told Tony that?"

"Tony knows that… I just cannot shake the feeling that something is bound to happen. And with Eli-"

"The famous ninja senses kicking in", he observed. She nodded. He nodded. "So, we're just gonna wait and worry till the train hits?"

"I suppose so."

"You think we're prepared for impact, if there's an impact?"

"I should hope we are."

"Guess that's all we can do", he asserted, his eyebrows falling again.

Ziva turned in time to catch his silent point, allowing it to drive a small smile on her face. She nodded. He was right after all. There was little more she could- they could do to prepare, yet she had never been one for patience. They remained silent then, both filling it with sips, McGee too counting the bottles on the wall opposite them.

Without looking up Ziva asked suddenly, "So, you had your meeting with the Adoption Agency last week?" They both knew they would go there this evening. They both knew.

McGee nodded. He also knew that this wasn't actually the question she wanted an answer to. He took another sip, waited a bit. "Liora's dad was nice enough. He seems…true. I believe him that he didn't know about her until recently. And I get that he wants to meet her."

"He wants to meet her?" Ziva hitched herself to the more incredulous part of McGee's statement.

McGee, however, seemed not at all perturbed. "He is her father."

Ziva shook her head. "You are her father, Tim. He is just biology."

He gave her a good-natured smile. "Don't worry. I know that. I know I'm Liora's father", he said. "Don't get me wrong, I'm scared as hell that we could lose her, because I'm that…I'm not her biological father. But…"

Ziva searched for his eyes again as McGee had chosen to find a spot on the opposite wall more interesting for the time being. "But?"

He shrugged. "That turns out to be not so much of an issue."

"That's good." Ziva fixed a slight question mark to the statement, watching it tickle into McGee's system and show up on his face. His expressions usually made for a good read.

"It is…", he breathed, then his brows furrowed again. "Did we mention that he didn't get there by himself?"

"What do you mean?"

"Liora. Her fa- Nolan, Nolan Walker. He didn't just hire a PI, he had a reason to."

Ziva's eyes narrowed distinctly. "Someone told him she existed?"

McGee nodded solemnly. "And from what I could see on the security footage he was nice enough to give me…it was Rikers." Patrick Rikers. The spear head behind the revenge plot that had almost cost the life of all their NCIS family. Ziva's mouth gaped momentarily, the edges of her mouth almost slipping upwards in a disbelieving laugh. McGee nodded again. "Quite a long time for an aftershock to set in, don't you think?"

A soft 'Ha' slipped from somewhere down Ziva's throat. In her humble experience aftershocks had a tendency to be sneaky all-time occurrences in their lives. "What took him so long?", she asked sardonically, taking a sip.

McGee shrugged again, watching the waves of the dark brown liquid in his glass crash against its rim. "Needed time to debate with himself if it was worth looking. The PI took his time to find us. Then he needed time to debate with himself if he should come forward…", McGee mused, his voice quiet. "Doesn't matter, though."

Ziva nodded. He was right, it didn't. Once again silence fell between them. Those quiet evenings, when for some reason neither of them had to take care of kids, nor cases were piling up, nor other things seemed more pressing - they cherished them, those quiet evenings when they could just talk, sit and talk, or not talk for that matter.

"So, what is the issue then?", Ziva asked eventually.

McGee turned to face her. "That he offered to take her back."

Ziva's eyebrows rose instantly. "He what?"

"As an afterthought he told us about how his wife and he can't have kids and that he leads a good life and has all this money and could give her a really good life…" McGee lost his voice on the last syllable, turning away from Ziva once again.

Ziva looked on, incredulous. "You are not seriously giving this a second thought, are you?"

McGee started shaking his head, but then stopped, once again staring at his favorite spot on the wall opposite them. "I mean, in a way… Johnston was right, wasn't he? Doesn't matter how much Abby and I are making, we could never give her even half of what Nolan could-"

"Stop it, Tim. Stop", Ziva cut in forcefully, her hand finding its way to his shoulder. "I know it is not easy, especially when you want more than one child", she gave him a reassuring smile when he looked up at her knowingly, "But you manage. We…manage. And then it is not all about the money. She is your daughter, no matter what, and when you clear your head of what this man said, you will know that I am right."

For a second McGee just looked at Ziva, allowing himself to feel the touch of her hand on his arm and appreciate her comfort. A fleeting smile crept onto his lips and he nodded.

When Tony, two bags of takeout in his hand, arrived at the lab, music was blaring incessantly. He looked around for a while until he spotted Abby in her office, wearing the ear protection Ziva and he had gotten her for Christmas last year. More like tech-skilled earmuffs.

"Abby, hey Abby!", he called out, using his upper arms as little defense against the sound. "Hey Abby! Abby!"

The second the woman in question laid eyes on her oldest friend, she flicked her finger against something on the table in front of her and the music stopped. She took her muffs off just in time for his last yell of 'Hey Abby!'

She seemed startled for a second, joining him as fast as her plateau boots would carry her. "Annoying Orange much, Tony?"

He scowled. "What's with the muffs?"

She shrugged. "I was trying something earlier, but it didn't work. Sometimes I just forget them, you know, they're so comfy." She smiled an innocent smile and went over to her computers. "Got something for you."

Tony stepped up behind her. "Hoped you would. Prints on the gun?"

"Even better", she asserted. "Saliva."

"The shooter licked the casing?", he asked, a little irritated by his own suggestion.

"Sick sense of reverence, I guess", she stated nonchalantly while pulling up a few charts on screen. "But the interesting thing is it matches the saliva on the gum."

Tony threw his head back. "Really?"

"Yep. It also shows traces of the same sedative I found on the gum. It's the same guy."

"We just don't know which guy."

"We'll get there", Abby assured him.

"Anything else?"

Abby instantly hummed in affirmation, showing him the simulation of the shooting she had already shown him earlier that day. "The casing matches the bullet Metro found stuck in the concrete a few feet from where you were standing", she explained, indicating the respective places and times in her simulation. "Slug is a 7.62x51 mil. NATO, full metal jacket. It's definitely a sniper rifle. I can't pinpoint which, though."

Tony gave her a sweet smile. "We'll get there."

Then he turned around and went into her office, placing the bags in the middle of the pre-set table that usually served as Abby's desk. While he started unpacking its edible goods, he caught Abby standing in the doorway with two beers in hand and a reverent look on her face.

"Indian", Tony asserted with an air of eerie delight.

"The one takeout our hubbies agree to hate", Abby added, taking a seat opposite him.

"I don't get it", Tony declared unceremoniously, starting to shove a rather big fork into his mouth.

"Right? I mean, what's not to love?" Abby followed his example, swallowing rather quickly to elaborate on another point. "And added bonus: Because of the smell I won't have to Patchouli up the place for at least a week." Tony opened his arms in an all-involving and approving gesture.

After a while of silent devouring, Abby blurted out, "So, start cracking the headlines, Bossman-Probie."

"Still with the Probie?", Tony replied with an almost pained look on his face. "It's been what now? Two years?"

"And you've been calling McGee that for…how long?"

Tony couldn't defy those eyebrows rising pointedly in the most Abby-esque of manners. "As long as it's our secret."

"I say it with love."

Tony couldn't suppress a smile - more at sweet remembrance than anything else. "I'm kinda starting to dig Ziva's…disquietude- That even a word?"

Abby was no stranger to detecting the somberly serious undertones that rang through every one of Tony's words even if spoken in the voice of sarcasm, irony or playfulness. "You think there's more to the Arik thing? And the Eli thing? And the Leahy thing?"

"Ziva's never wrong about stuff like this", he asserted dryly, putting his fork down and taking a long sip of the beer that had thus far rested beside him, untouched. "And she'd never be this vocal about it either if she didn't think it was serious."

"But as of today we're all reinforced. The whole gang. Got through it before, will get through it this time. Easy as that", Abby smiled, every ounce of assuredness weighing upon her statement.

A small smile flickered across Tony's face. "It's just… It's not supposed to be like this, right?"

Abby looked at him, long and hard, and it drove a pained expression on her face and for real. "This is not Ziva's fault. And neither is it yours, Tony. It's just the way it is. And we deal with it. As a family."

Tony closed his right hand around the neck of his beer bottle, holding onto it with an iron grip. "I'm supposed to protect them. I'm supposed to- to-"

"You protect each other. That's how you roll." Abby tried her best to muster up a reassuring smile.

Tony snorted. "Whole lotta good protecting we did when Leahy dropped dead between us."

"Tony…"

"A few inches to the left. A few inches to the right. We'd be-"

"Don't think like that", Abby cut in forcefully. "You do what you do." Then, suddenly, her eyes wandered to the left, to the place where, two years ago, Ziva had been sitting on the floor with Tali in her lap, feeling just as guilty as Tony that they were putting their kids, and their own relationship, through the repercussions of what they were doing for a living. She smiled remembering that conversation. She looked back at Tony, sincerity in her eyes. "We're gonna be okay."

Tony couldn't help it. Abby was all bubbly and about the big words, the big speeches, the long and winding roads to arrive at a point. However, he had always deemed her most sincere with the small statements, the one-liners. It drove her point right home. It did. He gave her a slight nod and put down the bottle again, instead picking his fork back up to finish his plate.

When they had both arrived at dessert a while later, the silence between them lingering comfortably, he glanced up. "We going to talk about what's bothering you s'well?"

Abby sighed. The happy expression that had settled on her face soon vanished. She looked positively anxious. She had known they would go there tonight. McGee and she had agreed that they would tell their best friends as soon as possible. They were a family. They needed a family. So, she told him. She told Tony about the meeting at the agency; told him that Nolan was a decent guy, for what it's worth; told him that the whole genetics issue was ridiculous in her eyes, but that she still felt for Tim having to look into the eyes of the man that could also, even for ridiculous reasons, call himself Liora's father; told him about the money, the PI, and Patrick Rikers.

She also told him that McGee and she, after having confirmed Rikers' identity, had done some research on the others involved in the plot from two years ago, and their current whereabouts: Rikers had committed suicide following his arrest, hanging himself in his cell; Theodore Stills had been left paralyzed after an 'accident' in State Prison; Jane Mills was still imprisoned and undergoing close-quarter psychiatric therapy; and Niv Peled was nowhere to be found which, they agreed, was a good thing in his case.

"But you're not seriously thinking that Nolan guy has a point, do you?", Tony inquired eventually, sensing that a related topic might have been an issue for her and McGee somewhere along the lines.

Abby shook her head emphatically. "No, never. Liora has more family here than they could ever give her. She's our daughter. Nothing's going to change that."

Tony smiled. "Good." But when Abby's face became serious again, he pressed on, "What?"

"It's just… I mean…", she started, obviously looking for the right words, "I think I get Ziva's point now. And yours. How some past action, something that's long, long past, might still have these effects on our kids."

"Kick in the gut, isn't it?", Tony relented knowingly.

Abby nodded. "But we're gonna be okay, right?"

A certified DiNozzo-grin spread on his face. "Right." But, still, he couldn't help the way her question resounded multifold in his mind: They were going to be okay. Right?

Reviews, ideas, tirads - as always welcome. No refunds, though, I'm afraid.