A/N: I did something I had never done before. I quit watching midway through Michael's/Tony's final episode and turned the channel. Forcing Tiva and "the kid" was a bridge too far for me and I had to shut it off. This is MY take on what happened, so to hell with canon or timeline. Also for the purposes of this story, McGee is single and living in his old apartment. He and Delilah are just dating.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or recognizable places. I am making no money from this and no copyright infringement is intended.

Warning: No beta!


Gibbs finished stacking the lumber for his latest, yet-to-be-determined project. Lowe's was having a sale, so it was never a bad idea to stock up on 2x4s and plywood. He had loaded down the bed of his truck with as much as it would hold. It took several hours to move his haul from the truck and down the stairs to the basement; man handlin foot sheets of plywood solo was a daunting task.

Bags of nails, screws and other essential hardware sat scattered on the workbench. Building materials for a project was the only clutter he allowed anymore; life was much simpler and less painful that way.

Gibbs was a creature of habit. Rare weekends off meant that except for trips upstairs for coffee refills at fairly regular intervals, he would be found in his basement sanctuary. From dawn until dusk, he would throw himself body and soul into a project. From the planning and design stage to completion, it didn't matter what he was building. All that mattered was the familiar and comfortable process. He didn't have to think or feel anything; he just had to do it.

He heard footfalls above him and wondered who dared to intrude so late on a Saturday night. It had to be Fornell coming to drink his booze and bore him to death with the details of his latest failed attempt to replace Diane. It was the last thing he needed; well, almost the last thing.

Out of habit, Gibbs poured nails from a small jar and was about to replace them with a healthy serving of bourbon when he heard a familiar voice. A shiver ran down his spine.

"No thanks, Gibbs. Bourbon isn't really my thing these days," the voice crooned as its owner drew closer.

Gibbs set the empty jar down and turned slowly to see his former second in command standing at the foot of the stairs. He looked like the Tony he had known and worked closely with for so many years, only considerably older and slightly terrified. He looked nothing like the version of the man who nearly hugged the breath out of him when he came to say goodbye. Gibbs crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the workbench. He assessed Tony for a few moments before grabbing a broom propped nearby in the corner.

"DiNozzo. What brings you here?" he asked as he began to sweep the floor.

Tony frowned at the clipped tone of Gibbs' voice. He didn't know what to expect from his former boss, but frosty open hostility was not it. Gibbs didn't offer a smile, a welcoming hug, or even a hand shake. Tony thought they had parted as friends, but he was seeing no signs of friendship.

"Uh, just thought I'd stop by and see you while I'm in town. I'm only here a few days," Tony replied.

"That so? Where's the kid?"

"At home, with my dad. She's getting big, you know. Looks more like her mother every day," Tony reported.

"That's great, DiNozzo, but it's late and, as you can see, I'm kind of busy," Gibbs interrupted. He went back to sweeping, moving farther and farther away from his visitor with each pass of the broom.

Tony moved to stand in front of him.

"Gibbs! Stop, and talk to me," Tony demanded.

"Talk to you? About what? What do you want me to say?" Gibbs asked.

Gibbs was not prepared to have any kind of an in depth conversation with Tony. He was still emotionally raw from being abandoned. It felt like a betrayal that would never be resolved. Certainly not tonight. Tony packing up and leaving hurt more than he ever wanted to admit to anyone, especially himself. Dr. Taft came close to getting him to open up about his feelings, but Gibbs had done a masterful job of tap dancing around his queries.

It had taken the better part of a year for Gibbs to start accepting his "new normal". He felt burdened with a new team that was missing its heart and soul. Due to age and a history of getting shot and blown up he had to face up to some physical limitations, which meant turning over a lot of the tough guy work to Nick. That was hard for a proud Marine to take.

Gibbs had accepted McGee as his SFA, not that he was given much of a choice in the matter, but he doubted he would ever be in sync with him like he had been with Tony. Even after more than a decade of working with the man, Gibbs felt he hardly knew McGee. He could trust him on the job, but outside the walls of NCIS was a different story. Never once did he expect McGee to show up at his house, unannounced, with a six-pack and a pizza.

"You could start by saying, 'Hey Tony, you look good'. Or 'Hey Tony, it's great to see you' and maybe give me a hug or at least shake my hand and tell me how you're doing," Tony replied.

Gibbs furrowed his brow at the hurt in Tony's voice, though his regret was fleeting. For just a moment he felt bad about being so dismissive, but then he remembered why Tony left in the first place.

"Fine. You look good. Now can I get back to work?" Gibbs demanded.

Tony huffed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Why so hostile, Gibbs?"

Gibbs turned slowly and glared.

"Hostile? You think this is hostile? Let's see, Mossad drags a kid in, says she's your daughter, with Ziva, who we had just been told had been killed, and you just accepted it. No questions, no proof. You just packed your trash, and the kid, and took off for Paris. Never mind the rest of us you ran out on. And now Ziva starts showing up here alone with some bullshit stories, doesn't really mention you or the kid, gets us all involved in her latest drama, nearly getting both of us killed, and now here you are - alone. You walk out on all of us, play family man for a little while, then come back here like nothing's changed," Gibbs shouted.

Tony looked down at his feet.

"Yeah, well it all happened pretty fast. I didn't know what to do," he replied softly.

Gibbs was livid. He tamped down the urge to break the broom handle over his good knee. Instead he marched over until he stood toe to toe with Tony. His knuckles turned white from holding the broom in an angry death grip.

"How about coming to me? How about letting Abby run a simple DNA test to make sure the kid was even yours? Or telling me years ago that you and Ziva had been fucking around? Nice job getting around Rule 12, however you did it. She was gone a long time, DiNozzo, and you sure as hell were not celibate that whole time. God knows you paraded enough women around, and I doubt that Ziva was living the life of a nun. So she hides a kid from you for three years, then supposedly gets killed and, what, suddenly you're father of the year? Now you're this tight little family, even patching things up with your dad? Sorry, not buying it," Gibbs shouted.

Tony stood fast and gaped at Gibbs. There was no talking to Gibbs when he was like this. Tony was damn near an expert on dealing with Gibbs and his many moods, ranging from his default setting of mildly cranky to pissed off, but this was something different. This wasn't about work; whatever was eating Gibbs was personal. He wasn't sure if it was anger or hurt that was fueling Gibbs' hurtful tone, but he'd heard enough.

"Right. After you treated me like shit and shoved me away, after I saved your life - again - I was supposed to come and talk to you? Yeah, I tried that and you didn't want to talk to me. Remember? You blew me off, but you had plenty to say to Dr. Taft and then some lady shrink from what I've heard. I've been trying for years to talk to you and find out what the hell your problem with me is," Tony growled in response.

"Yeah, it's always been about you, hasn't it? Poor Tony with his daddy issues and designer suits."

Tony shook his head. Those blows landed and hurt.

"Wow, I guess coming here was a huge freaking mistake, and for the record her name is Tali".

"Sure. Whatever," Gibbs mumbled dismissively and turned his back on his uninvited guest. The rasp of the broom on the concrete floor signaled the end of any further discussion.

Tony turned and slowly climbed the stairs. Gibbs followed several minutes later and did something unheard of … he slammed and locked his front door. After tossing back a couple of healthy shots of Jack Daniels to calm his ragged nerves, Gibbs prepared for a sleepless night. Tony's visit, as brief as it was, rattled Gibbs to the core.


"Aaargh," McGee grumbled. He threw the covers off, belted on his worn but comfy flannel robe, and marched out to find out who the hell was pounding on his door at 0-stupid-thirty in the morning. After stubbing his big toe on the corner of his gaming desk, he turned on a lamp in the living room and limped gingerly to the door. He peered through the peephole.

"What the hell?" he mumbled under his breath before opening the door. "Tony! What the hell are you doing here? Do you realize what time it is? It's 2:30 in the friggin' morning!" McGee protested around a jaw-cracking yawn. His toe was throbbing, and he just wanted to go back to bed.

"Awww, good to see you too, Probie! You miss me?" Tony chirped with a beaming fake DiNozzo smile. He held up a six-pack of beer and shouldered his way past McGee. Tony sat on McGee's couch and screwed off the top of one bottle. The cap bounced off the coffee table and skittered somewhere under McGee's desk. He took a long pull.

"Come on, McGee. Have one drink with me," Tony begged. "Or, did I interrupt something with someone?" he asked, hazarding a glance in the direction of McGee's bedroom.

McGee shoved the door shut and scowled at his former teammate. He knew Tony wouldn't take any subtle hints and leave of his own accord, but he didn't want to be a complete jerk and straight up kick him out. They used to be close as brothers, didn't they?

"Tony. I have to get up in a few hours to go to work. You remember work, right? Some people call it a job. It's that place you have to go to everyday in order to get a paycheck so that you can pay for goods and services. Then again, a guy like you with a trust fund doesn't have to work or worry about money. You just live it up in Paris and come and go as you please, right? Well, this guy needs his job, so if you'll excuse me…" McGee said before being interrupted.

"Whoa, Probie! Are you pissed at me, too? Tony asked.

He knew everyone would be surprised to see him, but he never expected so much hostility. Maybe he should have gone to see Abby instead.

"Too?"

"Yeah, I was over at Gibbs' house earlier. He practically kicked me out. Wouldn't even talk to me. What's the problem with everyone?" Tony asked, his voice dripping with confusion.

Incredulous, McGee gaped at him.

"You're joking, right? You just take off, leave us with some bullshit explanation and a hell of a lot of unanswered questions, and we're just supposed to welcome you back with open arms?" McGee asked.

He didn't even try to mask the hurt and contempt in his voice. McGee sat on the corner of his big online gaming desk and glared at Tony.

Tony looked down at his feet.

"I thought at least you'd be happy to see me. It's been, what, ten months or so?" Tony muttered softly.

An awkward silence fell over the room for several minutes. Tony realized he had made a colossal mistake and stood to leave. It was apparent he wasn't welcome at McGee's place either.

"I'll go. Sorry to bother you, McGee," Tony said.

Tony was about to turn the doorknob when McGee called him back.

"Wait, don't go. Come back in and sit."

Tony smiled sheepishly and returned to his seat on the couch. McGee began to pace. He pulled a bottle of beer from the holder and twisted off the cap. If he was going to get through the next several minutes, he needed some liquid courage. McGee had been practicing for this very moment for months and now it was here, albeit in the middle of the night.

"I'm gonna tell you a little story. One day everything is going great, or pretty close to great. Then we find out that Ziva was killed, although it turns out later she really wasn't. We don't even get a chance to mourn her before we find out she had been hiding out for three years with a kid she claimed was yours. None of us, no one, knew that you and Ziva had been fuck buddies or whatever, so we were all a little stunned, as I'm sure even you can understand. Then, you don't even let Abby run a DNA test after Ms. Mossad marches in and dumps dead Ziva's kid on you. You just accept her as your own and take her home like it's no big deal. So, you and your dad, who you've always held out to me that you basically hated, pack up and move to Paris of all places to raise this kid, because supposedly dead Ziva loved Paris. Not to mention, you've always been terrified of kids. But now, you're suddenly super dad? Sorry, I don't buy it one bit."

McGee took a long pull from his beer and tried to calm his ragged nerves. Once he caught his breath he continued with his diatribe.

"Now we've had Ziva popping back into town, alone, with a lot of secrets and bad guys in tow. Ziva, who we all presumed died years ago. Funny that she keeps showing up here with barely a mention of you or her kid. Kind of blows the happy little family fantasy out the water, doesn't it? Anyway, she just says some shit about how someone is trying to kill her … and Gibbs! No details; we're just supposed to trust her. Same with Senior. He comes to town like we're all old buddies but doesn't even bother to tell us that Ziva's alive. So tell me, Tony, how are we supposed to feel? Hurt? Used? Betrayed barely covers it. You haven't done a damn thing to keep in touch with any of us, your supposed friends, and let any of us know what the hell is going on. After all we've been through for over a decade, nothing. Now you show up here at 2:30 in the morning and I'm supposed to be happy to see you and act like everything is fine? What are you doing here, anyway?" McGee asked.

Tony was stunned. Of course everything McGee said was true; he just didn't want to face it. It was quite unsettling that he parroted damn near every condemnation he had already heard from Gibbs.

"You could say I'm here on business. I'm sorry, McGee" Tony said.

"Sorry? You're sorry? For what? For which lie? All of them, or just the ones that don't make you look like a total bastard and a shitty friend?"

Tony stood and began pacing.

"I'm sorry for everything. Yeah, I was a bastard for taking off and not keeping in touch. But dammit, McGee, what would you have done? I was scared shitless and none of you looked or sounded like you were going to be any damn help. Shit, Gibbs had already pushed me away and barely acknowledged my existence. Then you and Bishop got all chummy and left 'ol Tony behind. The only person I could talk to at NCIS was Ducky, and he was hardly ever there. So yeah, I had to turn to my dad of all people to get a little advice. Imagine how shitty it was making that phone call!" Tony retorted before storming out the door and slamming it shut behind him.

McGee thought about calling Gibbs or Abby or even a therapist about what had just transpired, but instead he returned to bed and lay staring at the ceiling for a couple of hours until his alarm went off.


"Tony? Oh my gosh. What are you doing here?" Abby asked around a yawn while rubbing sleep from her eyes.

She opened the door to let a disheveled and slightly inebriated Tony into her apartment. He kissed her cheek then plopped down on her overstuffed couch. He loved her couch, having passed out on it enough times over the years. The clock on the wall said it was 4:50 a.m. Abby always offered safe haven when he needed it.

"Good to see you too, Abs. You got any beer?" Tony asked with a pronounced slur.

"No, and from the looks of you I think you've had enough. How about I make you some coffee instead?" Abby said as she got Tony situated.

From her kitchen she called out, "You gonna tell me what you're doing here at 0500?"

Tony dropped his head to the back of the couch and sighed.

"Gibbs and McGee both threw me out. Didn't have anywhere else to go. Stopped by Maxwell's for a couple of drinks. Don't worry, I didn't drive. Too far to walk so I took one of those Uber things here," Tony replied. "Man, McGee chewed me out but good, too. Gibbs was just plain mean."

Abby returned several minutes later with two steaming mugs of coffee, both doctored with copious amounts of milk and sugar, one of which she offered to Tony. He accepted it with a muttered, "thanks". She sat next to him and sipped hers.

"Well, what did you expect? A brass band and a parade after they way you left all of us? You hurt a lot of people, you know. We kept getting hit with bad news then weird news, and then you just packed up and left. You got played by Mossad, then you played us all for chumps. It hurt, Tony, like really, really bad hurt. I lost my best friend, and Ducky was so messed up we were all worried that he was going to have another heart attack. That really pissed Palmer off, so I wouldn't even bother trying to talk to him. Gibbs kept throwing himself into dangerous situations like he was trying to get himself killed, and you weren't there to have his six. Of course, that's regular Gibbs but this time it was much worse. Good thing Torres was around! McGee wandered around like a lost puppy and was basically useless for a couple of months. Bishop is the only one with even a little sympathy for you, but she didn't know you all that well like the rest of us before you bailed. Well, at work, maybe, but not the real important stuff...the personal stuff that matters. She didn't look up to you like a big brother and best friend like me and McGee always have. And she sure didn't look at you or care about you like Gibbs does. We were a family, Tony. A family! You don't just walk out on family like that," Abby admonished.

Tony had been taking body blows for hours. First Gibbs, then McGee, and now Abby. He wondered if he was welcome anywhere. At a loss for words, it was several moments before the lightbulb over Tony's head lit up.

"Wait! What do you mean she didn't look at me like Gibbs does?" Tony queried.

"Never mind that. You tell me, right here, right now, Mister, that there is no way the kid Mossad dumped on you is yours," Abby demanded.

Tony hung his head and stared down into his coffee.

"Can't."

"Can't - or won't? There's a big freaking difference, Tony."

Abby's tone was clipped and accusatory.

"Can't. I swear to God, Abby. When I went to Israel to bring Ziva back I think something happened to me, to us, I don't know. One night, actually I think it was the night before I left and she decided to stay there, we had a couple of bottles of wine after dinner. We were just talking. I don't remember much after that. I just remember waking up with a pounding headache, a cashmere tongue, and a whole lot of questions," Tony reported.

Tony stared off into space while Abby sat and gaped at him. She gently put her hand on his back.

"Tony, are you saying you don't know if the kid is even your daughter? That you don't know if you and Ziva even slept together?" Abby asked, managing to keep any hint of abject shock out of her voice.

Tony turned to look at Abby, his glassy eyes filled with regret and confusion.

"If we did, it had to have been then. We never, I never, broke Rule 12. I got sick of Ziva's games and bullshit years ago. I know what you all think, but no … we never hooked up. Yeah, I mean we flirted, it's kind of like breathing to me, but I swear on my favorite Gucci shoes that we never screwed around. But now there's Tali. She kind of changed everything. I couldn't just let Mossad take her. I'm no prize as a parent, I'll admit that, but I couldn't let an innocent little kid be corrupted by them," Tony said.

"But Tony, why didn't you just let me run a simple DNA test?" Abby asked.

"Didn't you hear me? So it comes back that I'm not her father, then what? Like I said, I was not just going to turn an innocent little kid over to Mossad! And if it turns out that I am her father, well, you all get to hate me for a different reason. Either way you all wrongly think there was something going on between me and Ziva when there wasn't," Tony retorted, his anger starting to bubble to the surface.

"Look, Abs, when I got back and didn't hear from Ziva for, well, forever, I forgot all about it and her … eventually. I didn't even think anything about it, whatever it might have been. I became all about the job. I figured I was home, she decided to stay in Israel, so I got on with my life. The whole time I was over there it was to try and get her to come back to the team. We were friends, or so I thought. We talked, a lot, and I swear that's all we did, not that any of you will believe me. Then three goddam years later she's blown up … dead … and I'm told I'm the father of her kid, a kid I don't know about or even remember allegedly making. Then later, miracle of miracles, we find out Ziva's not dead. I'm so confused, I can't get a straight answer out of her or anyone, and everyone here is pissed at me," Tony complained. "So tell me, what do you suggest I do?"

Tony woke late the next morning with a raging hangover. Abby had taken pity on him and offered him a place to crash. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and tried to focus on the hastily scrawled note Abby left for him on the coffee table next to two Extra Strength Tylenol and a glass of water.

"Had to go to work. Some of us still have jobs and a cranky boss to deal with. Make yourself at home. There's coffee made if you want and stuff in the fridge if you're hungry. I put towels out in the bathroom if you want to grab a shower. Sorry we didn't get to talk more. I don't think either of us was up for it anyway. If you want, we can talk later. Call if you need anything. xoxo Abby."

Abby's place was in walking distance from a host of cafes, coffee shops, boutiques, and specialty shops. You didn't need to go more than two blocks to get everything you could possibly need. There was a mom and pop grocery that he knew from past experience Abby favored. Tony thought he could at least thank Abby for putting him up for the night by cooking her a nice authentic Italian dinner.

After a shower and a couple of cups of strong coffee, Tony left to go shopping. Abby had left a spare key for him. By the time he returned, Tony was grateful that Abby lived on the second floor of the walkup she called home. He placed his parcels on the little kitchen table and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge.

With a couple of hours to kill before he needed to start cooking, Tony decided to tidy up. He found a vase under the kitchen sink. He filled it with water for the bouquet of flowers he bought as a centerpiece. They added a nice splash of color and smelled heavenly.

He had just finished folding up the blankets from the couch when his phone rang. Tobias Fornell? Purely out of curiosity, Tony answered the call.

"I heard through the grapevine you were in town," Fornell stated in lieu of a greeting.

"Yeah, just for a few days. How can I help you, Special Agent Fornell?" Tony asked.

"Need to talk to you about something. Kind of important. Meet me later for drinks at the Adams House bar? Say, 8:00?" Fornell suggested.

Fornell's call wasn't so much an invitation as it was a demand that he appear. Maybe it was all the years of law enforcement, or maybe Fornell always sounded pissed. Whatever the reason for his frosty tone, Tony was pretty sure of two things: One, it was not going to be an evening of idle chit chat, and two, he would likely be picking up the tab.

Tony agreed to the meeting only because he was staying at the Adams House and he was curious why Fornell wanted to talk to him. Getting stuck with the tab wouldn't be much of a hardship. The prices were reasonable and they didn't water down the drinks. It would be worth it to find out what was plaguing his former would-be nemesis. He just hoped Fornell didn't show up with another warrant for his arrest on some trump up charge. That schtick was getting old.

Tony had one more errand to run before starting dinner. He walked the mile and a half to Maxwell's and retrieved his rental car.

Abby arrived home just as Tony was finishing setting the table. On the menu was penne pasta with his signature marinara, pan-fried pork cutlets, garlic bread, a leafy green salad, and a bottle of red wine.

"Yummy, I'm starved!" Abby announced as she bound into the kitchen. "Anything I can do to help?"

Tony poured the sauce over the serving dish of pasta and gave it a gentle toss.

"Nope. Everything is all ready, 'cept maybe you could pour the wine."

Between bites and appreciative moans of delight, Abby talked up a storm. She complimented Tony on his cooking and peppered him with questions about Paris.

Tony was content to let her words wash over him. He missed the long talks they used to have about everything. They had very few secrets between them. Secrets that were shared were closely held. Abby was a fiercely loyal friend and Tony's most trusted confidant.

"Tony, you know I love you so you can stay here as long as you want or need," she offered.

"I know. I appreciate the offer, but all of my stuff is at the Adams House. I'm leaving in a few days. I, uh, actually have a job interview tomorrow," he replied.

Abby dropped her fork in surprise.

"A job? Where? Here in D.C.? Tony, are you coming home?" she asked excitedly.

Tony shrugged and took a drink of wine.

"Maybe. Calm down, Abs, I don't know yet. I've still have a few contacts here. I heard from one that there was an opening for an instructor at FLETC, teaching investigative procedures. Right up my alley, right? Not exactly my dream job, but we all know how that blew up. I may have other options. Have to wait and see."

"You miss it here?" Abby asked.

Tony nodded and sighed.

"Yeah. I miss you, and McGee, and everyone. I miss you guys like crazy. I even miss Gibbs smacking me. I miss my job and my life here. I know I hurt you all the way I left, and I'm sorry about that, but I couldn't stay. It had been coming for a long time. The last few years have been really rough. Tali showing up just sealed the deal."

Abby cocked her head and asked, "What do you mean it's been coming for a long time?"

"You remember the whole Barrett disaster with Cade, right? I was tasked by SecNav with bringing Cade in and that all went to hell? It was all hush-hush and secret? Well, that was pretty much the beginning of the end. It seemed like after that Gibbs stopped trusting me. Never mind that I was under strict orders to keep him, all of you, in the dark. He didn't want me on his six anymore and let McGee follow him around like a puppy. Gibbs barely talked to me, not that he's ever been one to talk, but still. Then Ziva went off the reservation. We get Bishop and I'm stuck babysitting her. Then to top it all off, Daniel Budd and The Calling make an appearance to really fuck things up. Dorney got killed and then Gibbs nearly got taken out. After that, I knew I had to leave. I couldn't pretend everything was okay. I've seen Gibbs get shot, blown up, drown, you name it too many times to count. I don't want to be around the next time when he doesn't make it back. He's like a cat who used up eight lives."

Tony ended his recitation of events by getting up and carrying his empty plate into the kitchen. Abby followed suit. Together they cleared the table and set to work cleaning up the kitchen. Abby loaded the dishwasher while Tony hand-washed the various pots and pans he had used to cook dinner. To lighten the somber mood they shared familiar old stories, most of them about how green McGee was back in the day, and laughed until interrupted by a loud pounding on the door.