AN: Not beta'd; standard disclaimer applies.

In case you haven't figured it out yet, this story is AU. I changed a couple of things regarding the case.

Go, Chapter 13, Next of Kin

Tim stared at the figure on the bed tossing and turning. With a sigh, he walked to the hallway and got the nurse's attention. "Do you think he's in pain? He usually doesn't thrash around like that in his sleep," he softly asked.

"He is currently taking some pain medication," she replied after taking look at his chart.

"But is it enough?" Tim asked.

The nurse hesitated, "It should be."

"Well, could we increase it, just in case? Just so he could sleep?"

"Your father asked us to administer the minimum amount to deal with the pain," she finally admitted. "He said he didn't want to be too far under or out of it. We won't increase it unless he requests it or his doctor advises it."

Tim looked at his father and debated his options.

"Honestly," the nurse softly said, "It seems to me like the cause of his movement is more mental than physical pain, like a dream."

"Or a nightmare," Tim muttered, hoping his father wasn't dreaming about his lost family again. With a sigh of resignation, and realizing it wasn't worth waking his father up and asking him or calling for the doctor, Tim thanked the nurse for her assistance before moving to return back to his chair.

"You should probably return home and get some sleep," she advised, "It's getting late."

Tim looked at his father, "I can't leave him like this, not alone."

"There's not much you can do for him," she pointed out. "Wouldn't it be best for you to be refreshed and well-rested with him tomorrow than uncomfortable and cramped up in a chair tonight?"

"I…just…he's my dad," was all Tim said in reply.

"I know," the nurse replied sympathetically. "What would he want you to do?"

Tim sighed once more. Ziva had texted him that the Director had dismissed them for the night, suggesting they get plenty of rest since they didn't know what the coming days would hold. It had sounded a lot like Gibbs, only more pleasant. "Yeah, you're right. Just, call me if anything changes or happens?" he pleaded.

"Are you in a better mood today?" Ziva inquired as Tony entered the bullpen the next morning.

"I was," he muttered, glaring at her as he sat at his desk.

"Are you going to talk to Timothy today?" She bluntly asked.

"Hey! I talked to him yesterday," Tony pointed out.

She raised an eyebrow, "Barely once we learned that Gibbs is his f-"

"But I talked to him," Tony repeated, preventing her from completing her sentence.

"Are you going to do the same to Gibbs when he returns?"

The SFA frowned, "Why would I?"

Ziva shook her head in amazement. Why did they seem to hold Tim accountable for the actions of both father and son. "He also kept this information from us," she felt obligated to point out. "And as I mentioned to Abby, I think it is more likely that Gibbs decreed it to be kept a secret and Timothy followed those orders than the reverse."

"Well, yeah," Tony replied with a laugh. "McGeek ordering Gibbs around? He wouldn't last a day."

Ziva gave him a pointed stare.

"Oh…right," he muttered, understanding her point.

"And as Bert pointed out, perhaps there was a good reason for the secrecy? We should probably learn all the facts before we judge and condemn others."

"But-"

"Add to that the fact that Timothy said he would explain when the case was over and I do not see why you are wasting energy and time being upset right now."

"But-"

"You could also be burying your own foot in your grave," she added, gleeful when Tony fell silent at her words, sure that she got her point across.

Tony frowned as he tried to figure that one out. It seemed to him that she mixed up three different idioms: burying your head in the sand, one foot in the grave, and digging your own grave. He thought about their current situation and decided on which one she probably meant. "I think you mean digging my own grave."

Ziva sighed, American idioms truly would be the death of her. "I mean that you are acting like an idiot," she retorted. "No doubt anything you say or do will get back to Gibbs in one way or another. Not only are you treating McGee like this is all his fault, but-"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Tony admitted.

"And you agree that you are an idiot?"

"I wouldn't go that far,"

"I would," Abby injected, smirking when Tony looked her way.

"You weren't much better."

"Au contraire," she countered. "I might've been upset," she ignored Tony's sarcastically muttered 'might've' and continued, "But I knew to keep my mouth shut about exactly how I was feeling to Tim until I dealt with it."

"You were right next to me in the car calling him!" Tony objected, remembering some of the things the two had said when leaving Probie voicemails.

She shrugged, "He never got them remember, he didn't have his phone."

"Yeah, and when Ducky reminded us of that so we would shut up, you were the one who suggested e-mails."

Abby shrugged, "At that point I was a bit calmer and the only thing my emails contained were questions regarding how the situation came about and why we weren't told."

"Not mine," Tony muttered in horror. "I mean, they weren't as bad as the phone calls, which, thankfully, he won't be able to listen to, at least, not until after we clear the air, and we then can tell him to delete them without listening to them," he added, "But they weren't just a list of questions."

"Well, Timmy is probably use to you being an idiot," Abby replied, sharing a smirk with Ziva. "Luckily for you, he's not the one with amnesia, so he'll remember that about you," she happily added. "A few emails could easily be dismissed and forgotten about before Gibbs recovers, giving Tim no reason to mention them. I mean, Timmy might be a lot of things, but he's not a snitch."

Tony rolled her eyes, but understood her point, suddenly feeling a bit better about their situation. "You're right," he told Abby, "Not about me being an idiot," he added when she smirked, "but about the situation with the calls and e-mails. I mean, the messages were definitely worse, so, we just have to make sure he deletes those and I'll apologize for the emails."

"Um," Ziva interrupted, "I do not want to rain on your parade," she paused and looked at Tony, waiting for a correction, when none came, she smiled triumphantly, maybe she could master those idioms after all and continued, "But one, does he not now have a replacement phone? One with the same number," she added, "And two, he would be able to access his voice-mails from any phone, regardless, right? What would happen if checks them while at the hospital with Gibbs?"

Both Tony and Abby groaned at her words. Within minutes, they started thinking of other ways to appease Tim and his newly recognized fa-er, Gibbs.

It wasn't often Tim had stayed over at his father's house, even if he did now have a room there. Of course, last night was even more unusual since he was there without his father. The house seemed so quiet, no one was puttering around in the basement, no westerns were blaring from the television, nor were any bodies sleeping on the couch. It made Tim realize how things would've been if his father had died in that explosion, which led to a very uncomfortable evening as he tried to push that thought out of his head.

Unfortunately, that proved to be futile. The situation finally caught up to him, both mentally and emotionally, and he gave in to everything he had been feeling. First and foremost was his father's condition, followed closely by the reaction of those he considered his closest comrades. He hadn't expected them to be happy when they heard the news about him and Gibbs, at least, not right away, but he definitely hadn't expected them to react like they were. Of course, when the news of their familial relationship broke, Tim had expected Gibbs to have his six, to be by his side, lending strength and support and glaring at anyone who even thought about stepping out of line.

Ironically, when he had finally fallen asleep, he had done so on the couch his father used as a bed. He couldn't understand how his father slept there night after night, it felt like torture on his back. Of course, he realized, that could explain why his father usually appeared to be in a bad mood.

After quickly showering and consuming a breakfast consisting of coffee and toast, he headed back to the hospital. To his surprise, when he entered his father's room, the man was still asleep. He quietly set up his computer and got to work. Within a half-hour of his arrival, his father had awoken.

"Tim, what's wrong?"

The younger man just shot him a look.

"Uh-huh, you aren't placing this one on my door," his father warned. "The doc says that I'll be fine, it's just gonna take some time to unscramble my brain. You are more fidgety than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs."

Tim frowned, "Isn't it more nervous than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs?"

"Are you nervous?" Gibbs asked, meeting his son's eyes. "'Cause you sure as hell are fidgety."

Tim rolled his eyes, "It's nothing, just work and this case."

"Go," Gibbs ordered.

"What?"

"Go to the Yard."

"I can't leave you alone," Tim protested.

"What you gonna stay here all day and hold my hand? What for?" Gibbs asked. "We're family, I know you care about me and are concerned, but I'll be fine here. And it's not like I'm really alone," he added casting a pointed glance towards the hall where Tim could see many nurses darting about.

"But-"

"Go," Gibbs repeated. "I have a few things I need to think about as well," he admitted.

Tim hesitated, "Are you sure?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, "Have you ever known me to say something I didn't mean? Go," he repeated for the fourth time. "No doubt Franks will be stopping by soon, anyway."

Tim stood, knowing that if he left now, he could be at the yard right as the work day was scheduled to start. Granted, that was usually considered late for him, especially when they were involved in a case, but it should be considered acceptable given the circumstances.

"Only if you promise to call me if something happens,"

Gibbs rolled his eyes, before giving a nod of agreement.

"Okay," Tim readily agreed, giving his father a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. "Love you."

Before Tim knew it, he was pulling into the Navy Yard. He knew that Director Shephard hadn't ordered or even requested that he work from here today, so technically, he could leave, but he felt more comfortable being here. Actually, that wasn't true, Tim realized before letting out a sigh. He dreaded seeing his team. After reading and hearing about what they had to say regarding the recent revelation, part of them didn't want to be anywhere near them. But, as his father would say, the case came first. And yes, he could almost do just as much from the hospital as he could from his desk at the yard, perhaps even more since he wouldn't have to dodge looks, questions or ignore the gossip that was probably flying around the bullpen, but he didn't want to give more fodder to the masses. That last thing he wanted was for people to think that he was receiving or expecting special privileges now that they were aware of the identity of his father. He hadn't expected it the first twenty-something years of his life when the Admiral held that position and he wouldn't do so now.

Entering the bullpen, he came to a stop at the sight in front of him.

"Oh, God," he uttered in disbelief. Abby and Tony together in conference in the bullpen, that probably would not bode well for him.

"Timothy!" Ziva exclaimed, catching sight of him after turning around at his words. "I did not expect you in today, I figured you would be at the hospital with your fa-"

"Gibbs," Tony injected, "How is Gibbs?"

Tim's gaze swiveled to the senior agent. "He's good, as well as can be expected. Hasn't remembered anything else relating to the case," he added.

"Hmm," Tony said, not sure how to respond.

"Um, anything here I should know about?" he asked, looking between Abby and Tony.

"Anything we should know about?"

Tim sighed, "I take it then that this confab isn't case related then?" he said as he moved towards his desk.

Each of them gave a different answer.

"Yes."

"No."

They then looked at each other and tried again.

"No."

"Yes."

Tim sighed, yeah, he was so glad he entered the building. "Is there something you want to say to me?" he asked them, not willing to call them out on this situation yet.

"Is there something you want to say to us?"

Ziva groaned and buried her face in her hands, this is how they fixed things?

"N-" Tim broke off and sighed. "Actually, yes," he corrected before running a hand through his hair. "Look, I didn't sleep well last night and am really not in a mood to deal with anything today.

"If you don't want me here, that's fine. I can work in one of the conference rooms or even go back to the hospital."

"I'm sure there is no need for either of those things, Agent McGee," the director injected, "Unless, of course, you feel you need to be there for your father."

Tim noticed Tony flinch at that phrase, but kept his eyes on the director.

"I appreciate you coming in and helping out."

"Case first," Tim replied.

"Words your father lives by," Jenny smiled at the memory. "Now, Agent DiNozzo, any updates?"

They spent the entire morning and most of the afternoon chasing down one imaginary lead after another. The end result was always the same. Nothing. Tim wouldn't be surprised if the Director returned from her meeting in MTAC and dismissed them for the day again, since it was getting late.

"Gibbs?"

"Boss?"

"Dad?"

Ziva, Tony, and Tim questioned in unison, each of them surprised by the appearance of their team lead as he stalked through the bullpen and towards MTAC.

"Nice outfit," a recovered Tony commented with a grin, "Very casual Friday," he added. Gibbs only reply was to glare at his SFA.

Tim groaned as he looked at his father in hospital scrubs. He really should have thought to bring a replacement set of clothing to the hospital, especially since he spent the previous night at his father's house.

As Gibbs passed by them, the three automatically fell in line behind him.

"Jethro," Jenny said breaking off her previous comment and looking up at the interruption, "How are you-"

"Not now," he interrupted. "Tell me you guys have a plan," he said, directing his question to the faces on the screen.

"Plan for what?"

"To save those sailors!" Gibbs growled. "They are in danger."

"We don't know that for sure," another screen face snapped. "All we have is speculation; Acting now would be a waste of resources."

"Not acting is a waste of lives!" Gibbs snarled.

"Unless we know for certain-" one of them began.

"We do know," Gibbs interrupted, "Pinpin Pula told me what he planned to do."

One of them looked disbelievingly at him, "And why would he do that?"

"Because he's an arrogant SOB who thought his bomb would kill me," Gibbs snapped before telling them the entire conversation he and the imposter had on the ship. "Time's wasting away," he added. "We need to act."

"Do you have a timeline?"

"No," Gibbs admitted, "But he's had enough time to get things into place, it could be any moment."

No one had a reply to that statement.

"The longer you hesitate, the less options you have," Gibbs advised. "Enough time has already been wasted. If you had acted when confronted with our suspicions, hundreds of things could've been done. You could've changed their missions, or contact the captains directly for instance. Right now, however, the best option is rescue or for them to jump ship, to save as many lives as possible."

"We'll think about if we need to act," one of them finally said.

"What's to think about? Lives are at stake here."

"As are numerous other things. We have to weigh the risk versus the reward."

"The reward is saving lives of US Sailors, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters! That's the only thing worth any weight."

The figures on the screen remained silent, neither meeting Gibbs's gaze.

"Mike was right," Gibbs muttered inaudibly to those on the call. "Damn bureaucracy," Gibbs added just as quietly, rubbing his hands against his temple.

In the silence of the room, the explosion that happened on half of the screen echoed in the room.

"Damn it," Gibbs cursed, "It's too late," he said looking sorrowfully at that half of the screen before turning and exiting the room.

"Dad?" Tim asked, finding the older man sitting at his desk, head in his hands.

"Why?" he asked, "Why didn't they do anything?"

Tim hesitated, "No one wanted the blame if we were wrong."

"And they'll cover it up so no one gets the blame that they ignored warnings that something might happen," Gibbs bitterly added.

Tim jerked his head in acknowledgement of his father's correct assessment.

"Stupid, useless, wasteful," Gibbs muttered, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "Damn politicians."

Tim ignored his father's muttering and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, "I'm grateful you got your memories back," he softly stated. "That's something to be glad about, at least."

"Not completely," Gibbs admitted. "I spent most of last night tossing and turning, dreaming of the explosion and what lead to it. Was able to piece everything together this morning."

"You should've called me," Tim admonished. "I could've gotten you."

"Mike was there," Jethro shared. "He's actually downstairs waiting for me. I signed myself out, borrowed these," he said, indicating the outfit, "Hopped into his rental car and made him drive me here."

"Yeah," A sheepish Tim spoke, "I'm sorry I didn't bring you clothes, I should have thought about that. I had known you were gonna need them."

"Hey, it's okay," Gibbs consoled. "It's been a busy few days."

"Yeah," Tim readily agreed. "Now what?"

Gibbs sighed, "That's the question, isn't it?" he muttered. "You have a case to close and reports to write and I…" he hesitated, "I have to decide what I'm gonna do."

Tim frowned and shot his father a worried look, "What do you mean?"

"This…that," he said, glaring and waving his hand towards MTAC, "Shouldn't have happened. Someone should have stopped it.

"I just don't know if it's worth it," Gibbs quietly admitted. "I…we bust our balls, often work days and nights with little to no sleep, risk our lives, only to have politicians ignore what we find. It's happened too many times now for me to still believe that things are gonna change."

Tim swallowed the lump in his throat, "Are you talking about quitting? Could you really do that, leave us?" Leave me, he silently added.

"Hey!" Gibbs said, picking up on Tim's tone, "You are my son. Even if I do leave the job, we are family. I don't remember everything, but I do remember that that's one of the reasons we made it official. Yes, with both of us being adults, it's easier to walk away than if you were a minor, but the connection would still be there. I am your father, that's not gonna change, regardless of anything else that happens."

"But,"

"Never," Gibbs vowed, speaking firmly and meeting his son's gaze.

"Okay," Tim whispered in acknowledgement, giving a soft smile and receiving one in return.

"Okay." Gibbs repeated as he stood up. With a quick hug for his son, he suggested, "Now, you should probably get started on those reports. I need to get going, Mike is waiting for me," he reminded his son.

"You're not gonna stay and talk to everyone?" came the surprise response.

Gibbs shook his head and already started to move towards the elevator. "I don't want to say or do something I shouldn't especially since I don't know what I'm gonna do yet." With a shrug, he added, "Besides, most of them I really don't remember well enough to carry a conversation with."

"That's not an issue," Tim snickered as his father entered the elevator, "Even with your memories you usually don't have conversations with anyone."

"I get it," Gibbs said to Mike, finally breaking the silence between them.

The entire drive to his house from the yard had been done in silence. Partly because Gibbs felt guilty that he hadn't remembered everything sooner, given everyone more time to plan things out. And partly because he was mad that once they had received the information, they had dragged their feet with it and had tried to played political games with the sailors' lives. He hadn't been surprised that his son had found him, he had been expecting it, in fact, part of him had welcomed it, hoped for it. He had been honest with Tim when he said he wasn't sure what he was going to do. He just knew that if he had stayed there, if he had talked to anyone else, he might've done something brash. Luckily, having Franks waiting for him with the car running, and the excuse that he needed to rest after just being released from the hospital gave him the perfect reason to escape without such confrontations.

Mike hadn't said a word either during the drive, and Gibbs suspected that the look on his face told Mike what had happened. After reaching the house, the two men exited the car and sat down on the couch. The older man had dug a couple of beers out of the fridge. Mike had quickly finished his and then had started on 'Gibbs's beer' that had remained unopened. Jethro just sat there in quiet reflection as he tried to process everything he had remembered so far and what had happened at NCIS.

"I get it," he repeated. "I finally get why you quit."

"Hey, don't do anything you'll regret," his mentor warned. He knew Jethro well enough to know what was going through his mind.

"Do you regret it?"

"Me? Hell, no," he admitted. "But you're not me. You have a family here. A real one in your son and a surrogate one with the rest of your team. Don't mess that up. If you walk away from them, professionally, even if you stay in contact personally, you might not be able to come back."

"Why would I want to?"

Mike snorted, "You told me why in the hospital. Because if something else happened, you would always wonder if you could've done something to prevent it. Not just that, but because you love what you do. You love your team, your family. You don't want to give that up," Franks repeated.

"I don't know if I can stay."

"Not quitting doesn't mean staying."

"Huh?"

"You were just in an explosion. Were in a coma for a couple of days. This is what medical leave is for. Stay here, go home to Pennsylvania, come to Mexico with me for a bit, hell, take a cruise to Alaska if you want. No one says you have to be at your desk tomorrow. Take the time to recover, physically and mentally. You'll be stronger because of it."

"I don't know," Gibbs hesitantly replied.

"Look, Probie, I know you. Hell, right now, with your amnesia, I probably know you better than you know yourself. Don't quit. Don't leave Tim. You love that boy. Hell, as I said, you love all of them. What will they think if you quit and just walk away from them? I'll tell ya what they'd think: they'd think that you abandoned them. That you didn't care. Your boy felt like that before, I don't think he'll survive it again."

"Tim? What? When?" Gibbs growled, unable to remember what Mike was referring to regarding his son.

Mike nodded, pleased that his Probie was still so protective. "It happened; I won't give you the details because I don't really know them. Some things, you wouldn't even share with me," he informed his friend. "Just trust me that you don't want to do that. If after taking some time off to recover, you feel that you cannot return, then you can retire. Don't do it in a fit of pique."

Gibbs nodded.

"Promise me?" Mike asked. "I really don't want to have to come all the way back up here to slap some sense into you."

"I promise."

"Good. Now, best you work on getting your memories back. I have no doubt that the rest of your team and that female director are chomping at the bit for an explanation about why they weren't informed that you have a son," he said, grinning as he walked to the kitchen to grab himself another beer.

"Go home," the Director ordered them as soon as she exited MTAC.

"But-"

"Go," she repeated. "It's been a long few days. We've all had late nights and little sleep. There's nothing that won't keep until tomorrow. Report back here at 0900 to finish up the case and to write and file your reports." She looked at the them, "That's an order. I want all of you outta here in five minutes," she added as she turned to head back to her office.

Tony smiled and turned to Tim, "Case is closed."

"Actually,"

"Technically,"

Ziva and Tim said, both of them trying to point out that the case wasn't considered closed until all of their reports were completed and filed.

"For all intents and purposes, it is," Tony interrupted them. "Now, Probie, how about a drink?"

"Really, Tony?" Tim questioned.

"Hey, you promised to reveal all after the case, I'm just giving you an opportunity to fulfill your promise.

"As the director said, it's been a long few days, I really don't feel up to telling everyone tonight."

"So, don't tell everyone, tell me."

Tim shook his head, "Nope. I'm gonna do this once and only once. If I tell you today, I'll have to repeat everything tomorrow, that is going to be exhausting in more than one way."

"Bu-"

"Besides," Tim interrupted, gathering his belongings, "Gibbs is now out of the hospital. I would really like to go home and check up on him, especially since he probably left AMA."

"Go," Ziva softly agreed, blocking Tony from following him to the elevator, "I'll make sure he doesn't follow you."

"Hey!" Tony said in protest before turning to McGee, "Probie,"

"Go," she repeated, before adding, "Give Gibbs our best and tell him that we are glad he is doing better."

The next day, Tim had finished his reports and was returning from the Director's office when he found himself dragged into one of the conference rooms where he was surrounded by his partners, Abby, Ducky, and Jimmy.

"Okay, the case is over, tell us," Abby ordered.

"Not here," Tim replied, pointedly looking at them and the cameras, though he was slightly surprised they didn't march him into an interrogation room. The entire time he was working on his reports, he could feel Tony's eyes on him. "And not now," he continued, receiving many glares. "Look, I promised that I would tell you and I will, no matter else you think about me, I don't break my promises, but we aren't clear to leave yet. I think it's best if we meet tomorrow, everyone is off, right? Anyone have any major plans that they can't or won't postpone?"

"Are we talking tomorrow morning?" Tony asked, "'Cause I have a date tomorrow night."

Tim rolled his eyes, "Yes, but not too early." He said when others went to open their mouth. "I was thinking about 1000?"

His coworkers exchanged looks with each other before turning to Tim and nodding in unison as if it was rehearsed.

"Where? Your place is too small."

"Ooh!" Abby said, bouncing in place, "We could go to Gibbs's! That way he would be there."

Immediately Tim started shaking his head, "No. He's still recovering. I think having everyone there will be too much for him, and there's no guarantee we'll be quiet and peaceful, even if he wasn't in the room with us."

That raised some additional eyebrows as they wondered exactly what Tim had to say that might get some of them upset.

"You are more than welcome to hold have this gathering at my house," Ducky offered.

Tim shook his head and smiled, "Thanks, Ducky, but I think I know just the place," he said, telling everyone he would text them the location and directions.

"Anthony, Abigail, thank you for joining me," Ducky greeted as the two entered autopsy.

"No problem, what's up, Duckman?"

"I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow."

"Do you need a ride? I can come get you," Abby immediately offered.

"Thank you, my dear, but no," he replied with a smile, before pausing.

"Ducky? What is it?" Tony asked, noticing the rare signs of hesitation in the older man.

"No doubt, all of us are feeling numerous things. I myself, know how hurt I was to hear that Jethro had a wife and a young daughter that tragically died before I met him. Why it reminde-"

"Ducky," Tony called, trying to steer him back on course.

"Right, not the time," the ME agreed with a long-suffering sigh. "I know both of you are curious to hear Timothy's tale, that you both are…let's say emotionally invested in the situation. Neither one of you reacted well to the initial hearing of the news that Jethro is Timothy's f-"

"Bottom line, Ducky. Just say what you want to say," Tony interrupted.

Ducky looked at him knowingly, "Very well, then. Timothy mentioned how the meeting might not be peaceful and quiet, that could be due directly to what he has to say, or it could just be him imagining how everyone would react. I just wanted to take this time to advise the two of you to think before you speak. How we react tomorrow could greatly impact this team.

"If something is said tomorrow that bothers you, I suggest you wait until a later time and discuss it with Timothy afterwards, privately. It will do no one any good to be part of a debate, especially since this situation really does not concern us."

"Doesn't concern us?" Abby repeated. "How can you say that? Timmy is my best friend and Gibbs is…well, he's Gibbs!"

"That is no reason why you need to be privy to their familial relationship," the older man retorted. "Timothy said that he would explain things, but hear this, he is not required to do so. Nor does he have to give full disclosure. This is not a case, he is not a suspect or a witness. If he chooses not to divulge something, that is his right, yelling at him about that will only make withdraw." He stopped and stared at his younger companions while they thought about what he had to say.

"How can you take this so calmly?" Tony finally asked. "I mean, yeah, I can understand why you might be upset that Gibbs didn't tell us about his deceased family, but I can also understand why he didn't. Sometimes it's painful talking about those we lost. But Probie…" he hesitated. "I'm not feeling upset or hurt, I'm feeling betrayed. It's not simply a matter of not being trusted, but broken trust because he didn't tell us."

"Yeah," Abby agreed, nodding along to Tony's words.

Ducky paused and thought about those words. "Who?" he asked. "Who broke your trust by not telling you?"

"Probie,"

"Timmy, of course,"

The two replied in unison.

"I see," Ducky frowned.

"Then you agree."

"Not at all," Ducky informed them. "I see that the two of you have a lot you need to work out, much more than I thought."

"What?!" They exclaimed in outrage, once again in unison.

"What do you mean by that?" Tony finally asked after he had regained his composure.

"Neither one of you appear to be upset with Jethro."

"Ducky, the man almost died in an explosion, and is still recovering, of course we're not mad at him."

The older man looked at Abby to get her input.

"It's Gibbs, no one could be mad at him."

"He is not infallible," came the dry retort.

"No, he's Gibbs, that's better," Abby unequivocally stated.

Ducky sighed, aware that nothing he said would get through to the two figures in front of him. "Please, just…take my earlier words to heart. Listen, think before you speak, and know that neither Timothy nor Jethro need your permission or approval."

4-7-2022

Why is Abby and Tony so focused on Tim and not upset with Gibbs?

How do you think the two will react to what Tim has to say? What is this perfect place Tim mentioned. Where do you think they are meeting?