Author's note: No, I didn't disappear. Moving, plus a fried hard drive, plus wrapping up the final chapter in the triple crossover I left hanging for five years, ate my time for the past several weeks. I'm now moved and have my daily writing time back in my schedule now that summer is over, so posting should be somewhat more regular.

Chapter 10

Tony's phone dinged a few seconds before McGee heard the shower start running.

"Tim, can you see if that's important?" Tony called from the bathroom.

McGee picked up the phone to see Damon's message, then walked over and stuck his head in the bathroom. "Damon and Ziva are at the coffee shop, and expect to be there for a while, but Damon said Ziva doesn't mind if we're meeting Jimmy and Abby there."

Tony stuck his head out from behind the shower curtain. "You believe her?"

McGee thought about it for a minute. "I think she believes it will be OK," he said slowly. "I just don't know how accurate her judgement is about this stuff right now." He paused. "But I think we have to follow her lead on this one."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Let's at least give Jimmy and Abby a heads-up, see if they want to meet a couple of blocks away and get briefed before we all go get caffeinated."

McGee nodded and backed out of the bathroom, grabbing his own phone to text Damon, then Jimmy. That done, he stripped and was waiting for the shower when Tony got out.

"Maybe I should stay and help you get clean," Tony said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"You can wait five minutes," McGee said, smirking back. "Go on, dry off."

When he walked back into the bedroom a few minutes later, he wasn't surprised to see Tony sitting naked on their bed, arms crossed behind his head as he leaned back against the headboard.

"We've got two hours until we meet Jimmy and Abby," Tony said.

"And you've got plans for that time," McGee said, dropping his towel to the floor.

"It's been a long, stressful week, Tim," Tony said. "I think some stress relief is just what Dr. DiNozzo ordered."

McGee snorted as he walked over and stood next to bed, watching his husband's eyes track him. "Stress relief?" he said. "That's one word for it." He climbed on the bed until he was right in front of Tony. "So, what exactly did you have in mind?"

~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~

Josh got the text from Sarah, and set up his phone with the video ready to record. He wasn't completely sure it would pick up the audio, but he couldn't do anything about that without attracting attention. He flipped to a fresh page in his notebook. Notes plus whatever audio he could get would help, if this turned ugly.

Sarah's face was serious, and she looked completely focused on making drinks as the two guys moved toward the pickup counter. Josh wondered which one was the evil ex. Then they started talking to her, and he didn't have to wonder. Of course it was the slick-looking one.

He managed not to smirk when Sarah rolled her eyes, but the ex-boyfriend's comment was harder to ignore. Keep your temper. Punching him won't solve anything. But even as he told himself that, he still wanted to.

As they turned away from the counter, he kept the video recording.

"She's such a bitch," the ex said. "I don't know what I saw in her."

"Serena is better anyway," his friend said. "Certainly less nosy."

"Oh, if she asks, I just got back in town tonight," the ex said.

"She'll buy that?"

"She always has before," the ex said. "I'm not letting anything get in the way this time — my father spent the summer asking when I was going to announce our engagement. I can't do that if she breaks up with me, too."

They were out of earshot before Josh could hear the friend's reply, and he took a quick sip of coffee to get rid of the bad taste in his mouth. Evil was giving the guy too much credit. Sleazy was more like it. He stopped the video recording, and wondered if there was some way to warn the jerk's poor girlfriend.

He was still wondering that when Sarah eased herself into the seat across from him half an hour later.

"Done already?" he asked.

"Already?" she said. "It's after noon."

Josh shook his head as he checked the time. "Crim law ate more of my brain than I thought," he said. He looked across the table at her. "It sounded like the jerk might be done with you." He filled her in on the comments after the two guys had walked away from the counter, though not the bit about the engagement pressure. He'd see what Tony and McGee had to say about that. "And that last comment to you was really uncalled for."

"What, a brood mare?" Sarah said. She rolled her eyes. "I'm just glad Tim and Tony didn't hear that, or Josh would be bleeding and they'd both probably get arrested for assault."

"Gibbs could get them out of it," he said.

"Maybe," Sarah said. "I'd rather not find out. He's moved on, and so have I." She smiled. "So, how's the studying going?"

"I'd rather pull an all-nighter for Gibbs than keep reading," he said. "Don't get me wrong; It's interesting. But after a summer spent trying to figure out puzzles, just trying to cram information into my brain is less interesting than a case."

She laughed. "Don't say that where Vance or Gibbs can hear you, or you might find yourself recruited."

"Only because Gibbs doesn't want another lawyer in the world," he retorted, and changed the subject. "So, your brothers are coming back later, and meeting Jimmy and Abby. Are you sticking around or fleeing?"

"I should stay long enough to tell them Evil Josh is gone," Sarah said. She yawned. "Besides, I'm not ready to stand back up again."

He closed the book he'd been reading. "I definitely don't mind an excuse to stop studying," he said.

~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~

Ducky settled at the kitchen table, scones acquired, and sipped his tea as he unfolded the paper. Setting aside the main section, he turned first to the arts, then to metro. As he paged through the paper, his usual weekend morning ritual allowed him to push away the last of his questions about the young sailor Jethro requested he analyze.

He saved the section of the paper he perused the most closely for last: the obituaries. He'd learned years ago that they tended to spark questions in his mind about at least one of the deaths, thoughts that would distract him from enjoying the rest of the newspaper. So they were the final pages he read.

As always, he began by scanning the names, to see if any were familiar. He tried not to think about how many more days that was the case now compared to twenty years ago. That was the price one paid for the privilege of aging, alas.

One name caught his eye, and he began reading. Louise Hampton, 83, after a long illness. He was not at all surprised to see Jordan's name listed as her sole survivor. It had been more than a year since he and Jordan had been able to see each other, as their aging mothers began demanding more time and care. Just as his load began to lighten once Mother moved into the facility, her mother's condition worsened, and she had left her job as medical examiner for the county to care for her. She had begun teaching two classes at Georgetown Medical during the hours the care nurses were at her home with her mother, but that was the last time they had been in touch, except for a condolence card several weeks after his mother died. He had never placed an obituary, but he hadn't been surprised that Jordan had learned of Mother's death.

She'd written a brief note, and he'd called. She hadn't had long to speak, and it was clear that even as his load had lessened, hers was growing.

The wake for her mother was the following afternoon, with the funeral Monday morning. He should go. He knew only too well the mix of grief and relief that came when a loved one who had been so very ill passes, leaving the caregiving family member with a lighter load, yet a heavier heart.

He'd quite missed spending time with Jordan, who was one of the few women he'd dated in recent years who knew the rest of his extended family. He considered all the changes since they last had seen one another, and rather suspected she would be equal parts amused and fascinated by the developments since then. He looked forward to telling her of them, and seeing her reaction.

~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~

Abby looked at Jimmy as they caught sight of Tony and McGee walking toward them. "They're smiling," she said. "That means it can't be too bad, can it?"

She felt his hand squeeze hers. "Abbs, just … remember to listen to them, until they say whatever they have to say," Jimmy replied.

"I know," she replied. "If I don't, stop me?"

He nodded.

As they met the guys, Tony steered them toward benches at the edge of the pocket park. "We probably want to sit down for this discussion," he said, but his tone was light.

"Tony…" Abby chewed her lower lip. "It's bad, isn't it?"

"It's not good," McGee said. "But it's not … unexpectedly bad, mostly."

"Mostly?" Jimmy asked, as Abby intertwined her fingers together. "What does that mean?"

Tony sighed. "It means that most of what we need to tell you is something we already guessed: They beat and raped Ziva several times while she was in Somalia."

Abby swallowed the sob that wanted to rise in her throat because Tony was right. They figured that. Hearing it confirmed was hard, but not impossible to process. "So what's the rest of it?" she asked, forcing her voice to stay steady.

McGee reached out and took her writhing fingers in his, looking her in the eye. "Abbs, there's one thing that not everybody knows, and right now Ziva doesn't want everybody to know. But you, and Jimmy, and Sarah, you need to know." His green eyes were big and she focused on those.

"Why just us?" Jimmy asked.

"Abbs, what we're about to tell you, don't try and talk to Ziva about it. She's not ready yet. When she is, if she wants to, she'll come to you," McGee said.

"Timmy, stop trying to make this easier and just tell me," she said, her stomach churning.

But it was Tony's voice that shattered her heart.

"They raped her, they got her pregnant, and then they beat her so hard she miscarried," he said. "Now the doctors don't think she can have children."

This time, she couldn't stop the sob that rose in her throat, and McGee pulled her forward into one of his Timmy hugs, as she felt Jimmy's hand rubbing her back.

"And we've been going on about trying to make bat-gremlins," Jimmy said. "I'm surprised Gibbs hasn't head-slapped me."

"Gibbs doesn't know," Tony said.

Abby pulled back from Timmy's arms. "Gibbs knows everything," she said.

"Well, OK, maybe psychic Gibbs knows, but this is one thing nobody's told him," Tony said. "She told Damon, and asked him to tell us so we could tell the people who need to know. As far as we're concerned, that's you two and Sarah, mostly for practical reasons."

"You're not going to tell Gibbs?" Abby said.

"He's already shot the bastard," Tony replied. "He can't do anything else, and the Boss doesn't do well with bad news he can't do anything about."

McGee shifted from his heels back up to sitting on the park bench opposite them. "Just … don't mention bat-gremlins or anything related to that around her," he said. "Not right now."

"And don't treat her like she's broken or damaged," Tony said.

"Is there anything we can do?" Jimmy asked, and she felt his arm wrap around her back. "We want to help."

"Ziva and Damon are probably at the coffee shop now," Tony said. "Just treat this like a normal Saturday."

Abby nodded, and wiped her eyes. "Just no bat-gremlin talk," she said. "Got it." She forced a smile on her face. "So, what can we talk about?"

"Cooper seems like he's going to be sticking around," Tony said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"And for my sanity, we are not going to talk about that either," McGee said. "Look, if Josh is still there, maybe we can all put our heads together and figure out what Vance is up to with this cold case contest."

"Are we sure he's up to something?" Jimmy asked.

Abby snickered as both Tony and McGee head-slapped her fiance. "They're right," Jimmy," she said. "He's definitely up to something."

"Then let's see if we can figure out what," Jimmy said. He stood, and they headed to the coffee shop looking like nothing more than two couples hanging out on a Saturday.

~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~

At the coffee shop, Damon studied the letters on the tray in front of him as he waited for Ziva to make her next move in their Scrabble game. He still felt tension through his shoulders, but he wasn't about to let her see that. Just a nice, relaxing Saturday afternoon date with his favorite lady.

"What is bothering you?" she asked as she set down her tiles.

"Me? Nothing," Damon said as he tallied the points for her word and marked them on the score sheet.

She leaned forward, hands on the table. "You have been on the ledge since we walked in here, and it is getting worse."

"On the edge," he said reflexively. "And no, I'm not."

"Damon, do not start lying to me now," she said. "I have had too many people lie to me before. I do not want you to be among them."

He deflated a little at that. "Maybe I am, a little," he said. "I guess… I just don't want to say or do the wrong thing."

"Lying to me? That is the wrong thing," she said. "I have had enough of that in my life. Damon, I am a little banged on, but I am still me. I do not need you to tiptoe around me."

"Banged up," he said. "And nobody's questioning your toughness, Ziva. Nobody ever would. We all know you can handle anything thrown at you."

"But?" she said.

"But just because you can, doesn't mean you should have to, or that it's the best thing for you while you're sorting through everything," he said. He reached across the table to lay a hand on hers, and she tensed for a second before relaxing. "Your reflexes are still set to keep you in a heightened state of awareness, even though you're trying to relax."

"Yes," she said after a minute. "Yes, that is true. But it is not in my nature to sit back," she said. "Push, push, push. It is how I was trained. It is how I learned to handle everything that happened to me. Not to push, it feels like retreat." And though she didn't say it, Damon could almost hear her thinking the word failure.

"And you know that sometimes, there is advantage in a strategic retreat," he said. "It can be a chance to retrench, so you are better prepared for the next battle."

"It can," she said. "And after the others come and I spend some time with them, I will. But I need to see, for myself, what I can handle." She paused. "Otherwise, I believe I would put it off, with each delay allowing it to grow larger in my mind."

Before he could say anything, her hand tensed again. "They are here," she said. She looked at him, her dark eyes steady and dry. "I will not stay longer than I can handle, but I must know what that is. For me."

He forced a smile on his face. "Whatever you need," he said.