A/N: Thank you to everyone who sent good wishes and comments. As the year comes to a close and the decade, we are facing fires across the continent. There a to massive fire fronts surrounding us and still no rain. My sister and her daughter barely made it out alive after wind changes blew the fire back at her property. Thanks to an amazing group of volunteers from the Rural Fire service and a couple of water tankers they saved her house and animals.

Yesterday was declared a catastrophic fire day due to low humidity, + 40 degree Celsius temperatures and a Southerly change with gale-force winds. Firefighters are exhausted from weeks of fighting and not just Aussies – the US and Canada have sent contents of firefighters too for a month and have sacrificed time with family over the holidays to help us out. At one point, we were running low on fire retardant for airborne firefighting due to the sheer breadth and number of fires. And at this time there is no significant rainfall in sight – the only hope to extinguish these blazes. As I type this author's note, despite the significant drop in temperature from yesterday, at least ten maybe more fire trucks have gone roaring past the house. Scary times!

This chapter is the last one before Christmas so if you celebrate Xmas or are of another faith, enjoy the holidays, be safe and take the opportunity to tell family and friends that they are important to you, and you love them. In the end that's all that matters.

Thanks to Aussiefan70 for her kind assistance in bringing you this chapter.

Mea culpa – the site has taken out all of my superscript numbers for notes and slang used leaving it as in-line numerals. I don't know how to rectify it. I know that the numbers are distracting but I don't have a fix. So I'm going to break rule 6 and apologise : )

Chapter 49

"Come on Rebecca, you can do it. You're making amazing progress," Fernanda Acuna, her physical therapist encouraged her bracingly.

She was concentrating deeply as she sat at the edge of the mat table working on her trunk control and sitting balance. Who knew that it could be so damned hard to sit up? Babies managed to achieve that milestone between five and six months and here she was, a forty-year-old woman, a mother who was trying to sit up without falling flat on her face. She needed a safety restraint when she was sitting in her wheelchair to stop her falling out of it and she wondered, did babies feel anywhere near the level of frustration which she was right now. It gave her a whole new appreciation for just how tough it was.

Today was a good day. She was feeling reasonably alert and able to think. Today she could remember that she was supposed to be Rebecca, not Melissa Patterson. She hadn't been Melissa Patterson since before Tia was born nine years ago...or was it longer than that? Yes, she remembered all the major stuff, even if she'd forgotten minor details.

Today she could remember that her witness protection name was Rebecca Cooper but no, that wasn't entirely correct. Cooper was her married name, but she couldn't recall who she was before she got married to her husband, Dennis. Obviously, it was Rebecca but Rebecca what?

On bad days though, she didn't recall that she was supposed to be in witness protection or that she was married. Especially when Tony and Jessie were around during the bad days, she thought she was back in Philadelphia and still working at the lab. She still thought Tony was her fiancé and they were going to get married. Thought she was pregnant but then when she ran her good hand, well the one that was more accommodating than the left one, over her stomach she would find that her baby bump was missing.

But today was a good day and her baby was there, by her side – except she wasn't a baby. She was a beautiful little girl with a heart-shaped face, chattering away to her and calling Tony, Daddy. She looked so grown up, taller than Rebecca remembered. But it wasn't right for Tia to call Tony that – Dennis was Tia's father now and she called him Daddy.

So, what was going on? Oh, she knew that Tony was Antonia's biological father – but the two had never met. It was too dangerous. A Mafia Don was trying to kill them, and she had left Philly before Tia had been born to live in Tucson, Arizona.

And where was Dennis? Why was it always Tony who was hanging around? Wasn't it dangerous for him to be here with them? That was why they separated, wasn't it?

Where was her husband? Mel felt as if the answer was out there – just beyond her reach. She tried hard to remember when was the last time she saw Dennis? It seemed an eternity ago and she missed him fiercely.

Yes, today was a good day but that didn't mean that she remembered everything, just that she managed to remember more things and was able to put more of the pieces together. But she still couldn't remember where Dennis was and why he hadn't been in to see her...or had he? Maybe he had been here, and she'd just forgotten. She forgot a lot of things these days.

After finishing up her PT with Fernanda, after a short break, Rebecca was off to occupational therapy and she decided to ask her occupational therapist, Corinne Payne about her husband. Well, she would, but right now she was concentrating on her OT exercises and she knew that she wasn't up to multitasking. At the moment, she was trying to pick up the last wooden block and place it in the basket with first her good right hand and then do the same thing with her left hand, which was refusing to cooperate as it had moderate spasticity.

She couldn't believe how much effort it cost her to perform such a simple task! Before her coma, she'd had amazing dexterity, able to manipulate delicate lab equipment such as glass slides, sensitive microscopes and glass pipettes without conscious thought. Now it was requiring her complete focus and she tried not to get angry. Anger only made it more difficult.

She suddenly remembered watching a tiny seven-month-old Tia concentrating on playing with her wooden blocks as if it was only yesterday? Or was it longer than that? Probably. Anyway... her fat little fingers had struggled mightily to build a tower of blocks so she could knock them over. Rebecca had no idea how difficult it was to manipulate the pieces, not appreciating the enormous amount of concentration it required, although Tia had made it look so easy in comparison. Finally accomplishing her goal, Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief mixed in with triumph for finally finishing the task with both hands. Then she took several minutes to recover from her effort.

Remembering her question about her husband, she took a deep breath and thought about her words. "Cr...rrin wrrr Dnn...nus?"

"Rebecca, "I'm sorry, but Dennis is dead. He was killed in a car crash when you were hurt and slipped into a coma. He died nearly six months ago."

Pain and belated recognition flashed across her face.

Yeah, they told me already! How could I forget that my husband is dead?"

Patting her shoulder empathetically, Corrine nodded. "You remember?"

"Yaa-ss. Rrr-eee- baarr." Rebecca frowned in concentration. If picking up wooden blocks were challenging, trying to regain her speech seemed about as possible as her climbing Mount Everest. Yet every time she got discouraged, Tia's excited little face would appear, sometimes a memory, sometimes right there beside her, urging her on, chattering brightly about everything they were going to do when her mother was better.

Rebecca wasn't sure if she would ever get better, not like before. The task seemed insurmountable to her, but she felt that she owed it to Tia to try as hard as she could to get better. It wasn't just the overwhelming physical recovery either. It was the giant lump of pain and grief that felt like it was lodged in her chest when she thought about the future and all she had lost.

As Corrine pushed her wheelchair back to her room for lunch, she sighed. She hated eating and it wasn't just because the hospital food was blandly institutional either. Due to a weak swallow reflex, the speech pathologist had ordered that Rebecca was on thickened food and fluid, so she didn't aspirate on her food and develop pneumonia. That meant all her food had to be pureed which was totally disgusting, especially meat and things like lasagne -ugh, and apple juice which ended up looking like apple sauce. Rebecca knew it was a temporary measure because the speech pathologist, Robert Soames told her the grade of thickness should gradually be reduced from the current pudding-like consistency as her muscle strength improved. She couldn't wait.

~oO0Oo~

Her OT decided to finish up a few minutes early since Rebecca was tired and it was always best to finish off a session when the patient was successful. She was working hard. After finishing her task, Rebecca was gasping but after several minutes she rallied and looked at Corrine earnestly and took a deep breath.

"Cr...rrin wrrr Dnn...nus?"

Corinne understood her garbled question easily as unbeknownst to Rebecca, it was a frequent one. Sadly, she was having memory problems which weren't surprising or uncommon in her situation. She couldn't remember the accident or even the time preceding the car crash. Rebecca had no memory for a week prior to it although retrograde amnesia was not unusual after a head injury, plus she was confused about her two different lives which had suddenly collided, so it wasn't all that surprising. They all hoped that would settle in time as she recovered.

When she had first come out of the coma almost a week ago, the doctors had broken the awful news that she had been in a car crash with her family and that she had been severely injured and in a coma for five months and that her husband Dennis Cooper had been killed. Mostly she remembered he'd died but she was still apt to become confused at times, especially when she was stressed, exhausted or having a bad day

"Rebecca, "I'm sorry, but Dennis is dead. He was killed in the car crash when you were hurt and slipped into a coma. He died nearly six months ago."

Pain and belated recognition flashed across her face.

Corinne sighed, thinking that perhaps Rebecca needed a memory book where they wrote down important information for her that she needed to know. Luckily, Rebecca had no difficulty in reading, even though her alibility to speak had been significantly affected, so a memory book should prove helpful to her.

As she wheeled her back to her room, the OT noted Rebecca's obvious lack of enthusiasm for her lunch and she decided to talk to her family about any suggestions they might have about tempting her to eat and drink more. Not that Corrine could blame her. Lunch today – pureed roast beef and vegetables was barely appetising, even before being pureed and it was hard to quench thirst when the fluid was thick enough to eat with a spoon.

Plus, Rebecca hated having to be helped to eat. Still, the OT was confident that this particular issue would resolve itself. She would gradually be able to feed herself – it was still early days yet.

Lifting the cover off the tray of food, she examined it critically before smiling with practised faux cheer. "I'll give you a hand until Donna gets back from her break in ten. Shall we start with mashed potato first?" she asked, thinking that they couldn't have done much to ruin them surely.

Although it was Rebecca's nurse who usually helped her to eat or family or friends, Corrine didn't think that letting her food go cold would improve its palatability, so she'd decided to do her good deed for the day. Taking a spoonful and offering it to her patient, she started talking about Tia and the conversation she'd had with her about the little girl's incredible artist- kitty, Luna, hoping to distract Rebecca from the unappetising fare. If one day she was in Rebecca's shoes, she hoped someone might do the same for her.

~oO0Oo~

Tony DiNozzo stood looking out of the massive window near the MCRT bullpen, staring moodily out into the naval yard below, feeling frustrated and angry.

The MCRT was in total disarray. Ziva was under arrest for espionage, facing dozens of charges, plus charges of accessory after-the-fact to the murder of a federal agent. DHS, NSA and the FBI were still in the process of considering any other crimes the Mossad liaison officer could be charged with. Several serious indictments were also pending related to her role as Michael Rivkin's handler since there was a string of dead bodies. With Rivkin dead and beyond mortal punishment it was as if TPTB had decided to throw the book at her.

Gibbs' status? Well, the best-case scenario was he wouldn't be fit for duty for at last six months, if ever. Not that the stubborn supervisory agent would concede even the remotest possibility that he wouldn't be able to re-qualify, but saner heads knew it was a distinct option. Ducky, in particular, looked particularly grave whenever Gibbs insisted that he'd be back, murmuring, 'from his lips to God's ear,' that was ominous, to say the least.

Which only left McGee who had previously been sent to work on Balboa's team as part of his disciplinary action for hacking into the classified database of the Witness Protection program -WitSec. While McGee made no secret of the fact he was expecting a recall to the major case response team due to the dire situation, Acting Director Granger had indicated it wasn't happening. Tony predicted that would change just as soon as Leon Vance was back in charge, but Balboa just shook his head.

"I can't see that happening, Tony. Leon can't afford to break any more rules if he is to remain in charge and to be honest, I think his tenure is extremely limited."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "As in weeks?"

Rick shook his head.

Tony side-eyed him to see if he was pulling his leg and was met with an enigmatic stare. "What, days?"

Rick shrugged, "Maybe, maybe even hours."

Looking gobsmacked, he objected, "Surely they won't fire him before Jerome's funeral and his memorial service? That wouldn't be a good optic," he observed cynically.

Balboa nodded. "Yeah, you're right, Tony. They'll wait until after that before they let him go, but he'll be little more than a glorified figurehead and Granger will be the one calling all the shots. Scuttlebutt is that SecNav will be packing up his own office, too. But like you say, the axe likely won't fall until after Craig's send-off."

Tony contemplated this information and pursed his lips, considering. "Wow! So, who do you think they'll appoint as Director? Owen?" Tony figured he was next in line and so far, had treated Tony fairly. He would probably make a good director – hell he couldn't be any worse than Vance or Shepard, surely?

Balboa grimaced. "Don't think it's been decided yet, but it is a bit of a jump from associate director up to the director. Plus, the last couple of appointments have been unmitigated disasters so maybe they might opt for experience over youthful inexperience." He shuddered dramatically before, "Lordy, I hope they don't try to bring Director Nedrow back, that would not be a good idea."

Tony had only heard stories about Nedrow from the older agents and if what they had to say about him was true, then he had to agree. At least he had only given Granger a six-month commitment to stay at NCIS. That would give them an idea about Gibbs' status and if the team needed a complete restructure.

Sighing tiredly since he wasn't sleeping all that well, he'd asked teasingly, "Any ideas about who they might appoint as SecNav, Rocky?"

The team leader smirked at the moniker that Tony had given him the first week he started working at NCIS. "I haven't heard anything official," he cautioned, and Tony wondered if the rumours about him knowing someone who worked for the DoD was accurate. "Word is that this time they are looking within the Navy."

Tony digested that snippet of information and wondered what that would mean. Time would tell he guessed.

"C'mon, Rocky. A name?"

Shrugging, he confided, "All I know is that someone mentioned they were considering a former SEAL but there is a shortlist of three picks. Honest, that's all I know."

Tony watched as he sauntered off and thought about what it all meant. Grunting, he decided that Rocky was probably correct - Tim wasn't getting his sanction lifted any time soon. That just left Tony as the only functioning member of his team.

Tony gave a disparaging snort. Functioning was probably not the most accurate description of himself at the moment. He'd been having trouble sleeping ever since he'd gone to see Senior and started the elaborate ploy to con the rapacious old conman. The federal agent knew that he was usually an exceptional undercover agent but coming face to face with the man who'd contributed fifty percent of his DNA to Tony's creation had left him with a bunch of questions and one helluva lot of angst. The big one though, which ultimately, was unknowable, was just how many traits might a biological offspring share with that disgusting piece of shit a.k.a. his sperm donor? Well apart from the most obvious one, an innate ability to pull the wool over people's lives.

Senior had been an appalling parent and Tony could finally admit, even if it was only to himself, that it hadn't been his fault. Admit that he'd just been a normal kid, not a monster. The man who sired him was an alcoholic but that was no excuse for the emotional and physical abuse he'd inflicted on Tony before Senior had literally and figuratively thrown him out of the house when he was twelve years old.

Tony liked to believe that he would never treat any child of his own like he'd been treated, he really did. Normally, he'd have some faith in the notion that no sane or half ways decent human being could ever behave in such an outrageously cruel fashion including him. The only trouble was that being in Senior's presence even for a short amount of time and being reminded of their similarities had made all his self-doubts and self-hatred resurface like an emotional tsunami.

Maybe it was due to the truly disturbing physical resemblance between them, especially since it had been so easy to slip into the persona of a douchebag father who would willingly sell his only child just to get written back into Senior's will again. Sure, Tony was running a con but the fact that he had slipped so easily into the persona of such an odious individual made him wonder if it was because he was a chip off the old block. Did their shared DNA condemn him to repeat all his father's failings?

And so, in the days since they started the elaborate sting to locate once and for all, Senior's accomplice who'd masterminded his precious daughter's kidnapping, Tony found his childhood demons surfacing, affecting his ability to sleep, eat or think clearly. It had reached a zenith when Tia and Jess had confronted him during one of his increasingly brutal workout sessions when his brain wouldn't shut off and he couldn't sleep. It was testament enough to how far gone he was that the two most important people in his life were able to see how much of a mess he'd become and then stage an impromptu intervention.

Tony was trying hard to get his act together, knowing that the old maxim – fake it until you make it - was appropriate in the circumstances. As was the need for them to be able to expedite the sting so they could get their lives back again. Still, he was barely holding everything together and he needed to do better - at home and at work. So, with that in mind, he was here at the office, faking it and feeling grateful that until he managed to assemble a team or even a partner to watch his back, the MCRT was on stand down.

In Gibbs' absence, Tony had been appointed as the MCRT acting supervisory special agent. Associate Director Granger (who'd himself been filling in temporarily as the Acting Director) had ordered him to go through personnel files and find some agents who could be seconded to the MCRT on a short-term basis to get the team functional ASAP.

One positive thing about being on temporary stand-down was that it also left Tony with some free time to work on the trap they were setting to I.D. Senior's trusted associate who'd masterminded and carried out the abduction of his daughter at the park near his former apartment. With what little time that left him, Tony was also using the agency's resources to investigate any potential links to the vehicle accident which had taken Dennis Cooper's life and left Melissa disabled. Obviously, he was undertaking his extracurricular activities with the full knowledge and blessing of Owen Granger and the FBI director.

Granger was a former special-ops Marine who'd encouraged him to make sure his family was safe, so long as Tony was upfront with him about what he was up to and didn't break any laws or established protocols. Owen was personally supervising both investigations and had made some valuable suggestions, not to mention he had some awesome contacts which complemented Tony's own network.

Of course, in return for Granger's latitude, Tony repaid his support tenfold, putting his main focus during regular business hours into putting together a temporary team. One that could competently handle the complex cases of an MCRT until Gibbs' knee rehabilitation determined if he could recover enough to return to the team or not. The Powers That Be were prepared to give him the opportunity to return, although at this stage the medicos weren't exactly encouraging about his chances. Gibbs, the most stubborn guy ever born, refused to accept any hint he wouldn't requalify for active field status and maybe he was right. Only time would tell.

Tony decided it as a shame if Granger didn't get the directors gig. He could work well with a guy who had his agents' backs like that. He was nervous about anyone else who might be appointed to the big chair.

~oO0Oo~

Ensa Jacques was extremely conflicted. Hell, his conflicts were declaring war on each other and then forming up coalitions to fight opposing forces. It was utterly exhausting and for the first time in forever, he thought about what his life might have been like if he'd never decided to work for Anthony DiNozzo.

What had possessed him again? Oh yeah, money. Lots and lots of money.

That Beatles song had been right about one thing. Money can't buy you love but it sure could make you comfortable while you were trying to find it. Ensa liked his comfort, liked having nice stuff. Ensa liked wearing designer clothes and eating out at exclusive restaurants and drinking expensive booze. He liked spending time with beautiful but high maintenance females and his affluent lifestyle came at a cost. Now it was time to pay the bill.

He had a massive decision to make. The sensible part of his brain was screaming that he should let sleeping dogs lie because as they said in back home in South Africa, "beter bang Jan, as dooie Jan," which roughly translated as - better to be a scared Jan than a dead Jan.

The dogs (aka the feds) were sleeping at the moment and it was a really good idea not to disturb them since in his experience, it frequently it ended up with some mamparra's[1] nuts crushed in a vicious set of teeth. The mere imagery had him reflexively guarding his balls. He had absolutely no desire to have his ripped off!

Okay, technically the FBI wasn't sleeping because they'd still be looking for anyone who'd been involved in the kidnapping of Antonia Cooper-DiNozzo and Anthony DiNozzo Junior. However, right now, they were definitely dozing, since he'd been extremely careful not to leave any trail, so they didn't have any leads about who he was. It wouldn't take much to wake them up again though.

The slightest whiff of a trail and the hounds would be off chasing in pursuit of DiNozzo Senior's accomplices once more. After all, multiple shots were exchanged, and people had been killed. Not to mention that Junior was a federal agent, so of course, the cops were going to be giving the case extra manpower and resources – they took care of their own. It was one way that Feds and cops sent a message to the criminal elements. Essentially, the message was, 'If you dare mess with one of ours, you're going to be hunted down and you will pay for what you've done.'

That the crime involved not only the fed but had targeted his kid, meant that there were a lot of highly motivated cops and Feds who wouldn't give up until Ensa and any other kidnappers out there were behind bars. Which was why he considered himself lucky to still be in the clear.

As far as Jacques could tell they were no closer to identifying him as the mastermind behind the plot. Therefore, he was relatively safe and off the radar. Yes, the plot had failed, and he wasn't happy about it but unlike his domkop2 boss, Ensa was free. Almost no one knew that he'd devised the doomed strategy – except DiNozzo so things could have been much, much worse.

Fortunately, when the police had gone to the property where Junior and the kid were being held captive after they'd managed to escape their abductors, Jacques was long gone. He'd sent the hired muscle out to chase them down and they failed – worse they'd managed to get caught.

He'd sanitized the crime scene as much as possible, ensuring that any trace obtained by the forensic scientists hopefully wouldn't be his. If he was less thorough with regards to the other members of the crew, well they were dumb as fok, [2] and expendable.

Plus, the hired muscle knew fokkol [3] about him or who was paying them to kidnap a little kid, all they were concerned about was how much they were getting paid. Perhaps in hindsight, it might have been wiser to have hired some muscle that had a slightly higher IQ than your average cactus. That way, they might have done a better job of guarding their prisoners or hunting down and recapturing them instead of letting a wounded federal agent with a kid in tow ambush them. But, at least Ensa wasn't in jail and he was grateful.

Sure, he wanted revenge on Anthony DiNozzo Junior after the boss' son had managed to wreck his plan to kidnap the kid. Jacques hated that the Fed outwitted him and made him feel like some Loskop 4 and he wasn't used to messing up – fok weet [4] it never happened before. He didn't understand how Junior had known something was up – he'd thought that using that bitch with the dog to make friends with the kid would disarm them and let their guard down, and yet, something had tipped him off.

He didn't appreciate getting his arse handed to him but still... going out looking for revenge was equally schoepit. [5] Long years of surviving and thriving in his business taught him that vengeance... hell strike that, emotions in general, were luxuries that weren't worth the risk. Revenge was the plaything of fools and amateurs. The professional part of Jacques' psyche was telling him that he should keep it that way and not indulge in childish gratification which inevitably leads to mistakes. The last thing he wanted was to end up in a prison cell and as of this moment in time, as long as he stayed out of trouble, he was in the clear.

He could even return to South Africa and simply disappear. What with the amount of money he'd earned and had invested wisely over the years while working for Senior, he could afford to retire – at least for a good five years or so. A lot longer if he was prepared to accept a lower standard of living and let's face it, if he was in jail, his standard of living would decline sharply.

He knew it would be the smart thing to do to go back home and keep a low profile and Ensa Jacques was a very smart man. Not a good or moral man but clever and successful in his work. He'd managed to conceal his association as Anthony DiNozzo Senior's right-hand man through meticulous planning and care. He was after all the one who DiNozzo depended upon to attend to his less than savoury business dealings. Very successfully, Jacques felt driven to add.

Well, up until his unfortunate meeting with Anthony DiNozzo Junior, who was a surprisingly adept foe. May he burn in the fires of everlasting Hell!

Shaking off his anger and resentment, Jacques ruthlessly focused on what was important right now. That as luck would have it, only two people were aware of his more than a decade long business arrangement – namely his employer, Anthony DiNozzo and himself. Although luck had very little to do with it – it was a result of Ensa' s careful planning and caution which some might call pathological paranoia. Whatever label you slapped on it, he had the last laugh - and his freedom.

Whenever he and DiNozzo met in person (which was very infrequently) Ensa had followed a complicated series of rituals that would have made it difficult, if not downright impossible for anyone to follow him to their rendezvouses. Besides, as former Special Forces, he was far too experienced to allow anyone to tail him. Another layer of security he'd set up to protect himself and his boss was that he had several different identities. So, when he interacted with minions – like the abduction debacle, Ensa used an alternate character, complete with a subtle disguise. This shielded his long-standing connection to DiNozzo very effectively.

The rigmarole with his alternate personas was supposedly for his boss' benefit since DiNozzo didn't want anyone to know about their association. DiNozzo, the deluded fool, considered himself to be an entrepreneur/ businessman. He didn't see himself as a criminal, therefore dealing with a mercenary of Jacques' calibre was highly undesirable, albeit necessary. Hence his obsession with no one knowing of their association.

Still, the anonymity and need to conceal their business arrangement also worked to Ensa's favour, too and the South African had embraced it fully. When the operation to deliver Tia Cooper into her grandfather's hands had gone belly up (thanks to her interfering father) the cops hadn't a clue who'd pulled it off. It was due to his paranoia that Jacques remained free while his boss was stuck in prison. All because the mal [6] old dronkie [7] wouldn't give him time to plan another attempt because he was getting desperate about his financial backers.

Yes, of course, the feds had arrested Jacques' minions, but those were simple underlings he'd hired for the mission. They were totally expendable but more to the point, they also had no idea who Ensa really was or had a clue that he was Anthony DiNozzo's most trusted right-hand -man, thanks in part to the fact that they didn't know who their real boss was. The identity of the one in charge of the operation had been need-to-know, and Ensa was unequivocal that anyone aside from his second-in-charge needed to know that Jacques was the one calling the shots.

The rest of the hired help assumed Jacques was one of them. His 2IC had known who he was, obviously, but after the kidnapping had failed, the man had a very unfortunate accident running off the road on a remote stretch of road and was found too late to save him.

So, everything considered, although Tia Cooper could identify him, that was only an issue if he was ever picked up by the cops. Even then, they would have to somehow make the connection to Cooper's kidnapping, and he felt that the chances of that happening were low. Zero if he left the country, his inner voice taunted him mockingly. Unfortunately, he'd stupidly been taking his own sweet time, figuring out his next move instead of disappearing while he'd had the opportunity.

When Senior had grown desperate and decided to personally approach the brat when she was seeing a shrink, he'd told him bluntly it was a terrible plan, but the boss had been desperate, he'd said that time was running out. When it had gone to shit and Senior had been arrested, Jacques hadn't been surprised. What had shocked him though was that a ten-year-old had so easily outsmarted her grandfather. She was obviously much smarter than he was.

To be honest, at that point Ensa should have flown out of the country as soon as he was able. But he didn't – he'd been complacent, figuring out that he had plenty of time to decide what to do next. He'd vacillated enjoying a hedonistic lifestyle until suddenly everything went pear-shaped. DiNozzo sent him a message via his lawyer directing him to an anonymous mailbox drop three days ago, leaving him in danger with a very difficult decision to make.

The Boss wanted Ensa to convince Lieutenant Jessie Lawless – Tia Cooper's godmother to drop her objections to the girl being sent to live in Saudi Arabia in preparation for her becoming a wife to Prince Omar Ibn Alwaan third son.

That drol [8] wanted Jacques to end up in jail to keep him company, either that or get him seriously DEAD!

As they said back home in South Africa, 'Hier kom iGroot Kak literally – here comes a big shit!

~o0o~

Thinking back to his conversation with Balboa earlier that day about the possible change of leadership had left Tony feeling restless. He couldn't help comparing it with the last time he'd been given control of the team during the debacle when Gibbs had 'resigned' several years ago after getting blown up aboard the Bakir Kamir. He was determined not to make the same mistakes this time around.

Although to be fair, Tony hadn't any say about anything that had gone down during that whole dog's breakfast, particularly the composition of the team last time. The MCRT had consisted of McGee who as still very much a rookie at the time, Jenny's appointment of Ziva – a quid pro quo appointment in return for Eli's political endorsement and intel. And rounding out the last position was Michelle Lee, a probie, a lawyer with no field with no experience. Yet another Shepard pick.

The three of them possessed a grand total of three years investigative experience between the lot of them, which was a complete joke for a team that was supposed to be the best of the best, investigating major crimes. Not surprisingly, it had been an unmitigated disaster. Equally unsurprisingly, it was not something he had any intention of revisiting when they begged him to stay on to form a new team if Gibbs didn't requalify.

However, when presented with the chance to get an interim major case response team up and running asap, he leapt at the prospect. Picking temporary agents to fill the vacancies was fine and kinda fun, giving people a chance to audition for one of three, possibly four slots on the team, depending on who was the team leader. Temporary placements were cool but there was no way Tony would get caught making significant permanent changes to the team personnel or it's procedures only to have Gibbs sweep back in and chuck people like Michelle Lee off of the team.

Tony could still picture his little probie's face when Gibbs had sent her back down to Legal. While Michelle had been green, she wasn't any worse than McGee had been when he joined them. And unlike Ziva, Michelle at least understood the law and had attended FLETC. In fact, she had a much better claim to a spot than the Mossad liaison did, except that Ziva was Gibbs substitute daughter and Gibbs hated lawyers with a passion. Plus, the Mossad liaison had been placed on the team by the then Director Shepard because of a personal relationship with the David family.

So, Tony had no desire to repeat the experience with anyone new, but this was different. If everyone knew the score going in, that it was only a temporary and still wanted to play in the sandbox, he could live with that.

In the interests of getting the team operational again, Granger had told him bluntly to second the best candidates and he'd try his damnedest to get them temporarily deployed until they could rebuild the permanent MCRT. So, he'd started trawling through personnel files and thinking about individuals who he knew were competent investigators. Agents who could hit the ground running and not need a lot of handholding. Then he'd started compiling a wish-list of people he wanted to work with.

Obviously, they needed to be experienced so they could deal with the high profile and complex investigations which were the bread and butter cases for the MCRT, although one of his first picks, Nikki Jardine, was not a field agent. But she was a highly skilled data analyst and the germophobic NCIS agent also knew her way around a motherboard, although she was not McGee. She'd shown that she possessed great mental toughness and had remained cool, calm and collected in a war zone when they had worked a case together in Baghdad last year.

Aside from Jardine, Tony's wish list of secondments had included Tobias Fornell, Ric Balboa, Cassie Yates, Annabelle Crawley (Balboa's SFA) and Abigail Borin although he wasn't sure about the likelihood of getting Borin or Fornell seconded as they weren't NCIS agents. But both had shocked him, calling him up to tell him that they were willing to help out on the team until Gibbs was back on board. Since they'd offered, Tony figured it didn't hurt to ask. The Powers That Be had told him he could have anyone he wanted – at least temporarily to get the team fully functioning again.

Initially, though, he was only looking at junior agents and SFA's as TADs until Balboa had called him out on his choices.

"Hey, DiNozzo! What am I?" the frazzled agent wanted to know after he strolled over to chat and sighted his wish list. "Chopped liver?" He demanded dramatically, feigning hurt feelings while gesturing to the list that was sitting out in the open on Tony's desk. Obviously, Balboa, like Tony, had perfected the art of reading upside down.

Seeing the confused look of the former cop's face he spelled it out. "Why didn't you add me to the list, Tony? I would be an excellent SFA."

Tony, sipping on a cup of coffee at the time, nearly choked on it as it went down the wrong way, spluttered, "Be serious! You're a senior supervisory agent, not a senior field agent, Ric. But if you're interested, I'll recommend to Granger that you lead the team and I'll be your SFA." he suggested, thinking that if Gibbs didn't make it back then Balboa would most likely be appointed as team lead anyway.

Ric scowled at him and this time he wasn't sure if it was real or not. "If I was Gibbs, I'd been head-slapping you about now, DiNozzo. Of course, unlike him, I also know that hitting my colleagues is not acceptable behaviour for a federal agent or team leader. "

DiNozzo looked askance at him, not sure where he was going. Balboa sighed.

"Look, Tony, yes I'm a senior supervisory agent but I also don't have your years of experience investigating major crimes or to be honest, your investigative chops. As a cop you worked, vice, homicide, transit and undercover and worked a much higher volume of concurrent cases than we do. Plus, you've put in almost eight years on the MCRT." Shrugging deprecatingly, he looked around the bullpen.

"I don't have your expertise with homicide, sexual predators and terrorists. You know my team handles far more mundane crimes and plain old garden variety murderers when we investigate homicides at all, so I'd jump at the chance to work and learn from you. Considering your skills and all of your experience, it makes far more sense for me to be your temporary SFA than the other way around."

Tony must have gaped at him in amazement because he gave an oddly wry grin. "Call it my way of apologising for not supporting you the way that I should have the last time you were placed in charge of the MCRT. I knew that McGee and David were being insubordinate and refusing to follow orders and although I put in several complaints to Shepard, she ignored them. But I should have done more."

Looking abashed, he admitted, "That's partly why I agreed to take on McGee when Vance asked me too – he needs to be slapped down and get his entitled arrogant attitude under control. I'm trying my best to see that's what happens."

Tony nodded that made sense. It would have been impossible for the other teams not to have been aware of the insubordination of Ziva and Tim when Gibbs left him in charge with his insulting putdown, 'You'll do'. Talk about being damned with faint praise.

It was so damned faint that if it had been in writing as opposed to being delivered verbally, you'd have needed a magnifying glass to see it. Yet, when he'd complained about it to Abby and Ducky, they'd brushed off his hurt feelings, saying that Gibbs was not prone to dishing out lavish praise so a 'you'll do' was the equivalent of a commendation or a medal.

In other words, stop being such a baby, Tony.

Of course, what they said was true to a certain extent. Gibbs was a genuine praise-miser, acting as if a positive word of praise cost him a bucket load of cash. And yet, he'd managed to overcome not just his selective mutism but his aversion to praising his people enough to shower McGee with fulsome praise about how good an agent he was and to not let Tony tell him otherwise. Quite frankly, comparing and contrasting McGee's glowing verbal reference with a throwaway comment to his second in charge made it difficult to argue Gibbs had meant, 'you'll do,' as a form of high praise. Particularly when he'd never enforced Tony's seniority as a senior field agent to his junior and probationary agents.

Quite the contrary, he constantly undermined him. Little wonder then, that it felt that Gibbs had deliberately set him up to fail as his replacement.

Balboa had nudged him gently, seeing the younger agent was miles away. "NCIS is going to be put under the microscope, Tony. The MCRT is supposed to be our premier investigative unit and letting a Mossad spy work on the team has seriously damaged its credibility...damaged the whole damned agency." He frowned repentantly.

"I want to do something to fix this mess because ultimately, all the SSAs should have spoken up when David was appointed to the MCRT. We knew it wasn't kosher, pardon the pun. If only we'd all banded together, we could have shut it down. So, please... let me try to make amends," Ric declared earnestly before adding with a playful glint in his eyes.

"Plus, as a bonus, I get to work with the best-damned investigator I've ever seen." He said sincerely as Tony flushed bright chartreuse from his compliment.

"Gibbs is the best investigator," he objected immediately.

Ric shook his head, "Gibbs is good but you're better. He's all about smoke and mirrors, about setting up team members to compete against each other instead of working together. He's all about rationing information since he believes that the info is power. He's all about not letting the right hand know what the left is up to, just so he adds to the mystique he's created.

"But you-you're the real deal. You don't need tricks and illusions to work your magic when it comes down to analysing information and investigation. You see connections that no one else does, Tony and I'd be honoured to work with you." Ric said gravely.

Thinking back to their conversation still left him feeling embarrassed as hell by the fulsome praise since he wasn't used to receiving any or if he did get the occasional crumb from Gibbs, it was immediately followed by a low blow to his self-esteem to ensure he didn't get too cocky. He was also feeling overwhelmed that an experienced agent and team lead, no less, such as Ric would offer to help out in the current crisis and serve under him.

He was even more shocked when Tobias and Abigail Borin had come and offered their temporary services as well. They all were equally appalled at the damage that had been done to the agency and the team and wanted to help in the rebuilding process too. After talking to Jimmy and Jess about their offers to help out he decided that it would be churlish not to accept their generous offer.

South African Slang terms used

1 mamparra – idiot.

2 fok – Afrikaans for "fuck", can be used in most ways it is used in English

3. fokkol – lit. "fuck-all". Literally means "absolutely nothing" (vulgar)

4. fok weet – lit. "fuck knows". A response to an unanswerable question (vulgar). Similar to "I don't know who knows"

5. schoepit - pronounced "s-choo-pit", is the informal pronunciation of the word "stupid".

6. mal – mad, crazy, insane

7. dronkie – drunkard

8. drol – lit. a turd (vulgar); also refers to an arsehole/idiot; a cigarette, with a singly sold cigarette called a 'los drol' ("loose cigarette")