Epilogue

Three months later…

Gibbs walked into Autopsy to find Ducky immersed in his latest case: corpse cut open, instruments at the ready, Jimmy assisting and taking notes. All looked as it should be, but…

"How ya doing, Duck?"

"Fine. Fine, Jethro," Ducky grunted. "I have no news for you yet on this case."

'Okay. When you do." Gibbs turned away, but not without a quizzical look first. "Ya sure?" It wasn't the case he was asking about, and all present knew that.

"Jethro, I think I know my own mind!" A scalpel slipped from Ducky's hand and clattered to the floor.

"I'll get that, Doctor," Jimmy said swiftly, and picked up the scalpel, taking it to the sink to wash.

"I just…it takes time," Ducky said, holding out his empty hands. "My sleeping is getting better, slowly. The sleeping drugs help. I haven't missed an appointment with the psychotherapist, but…it is taking time. Time which could be spent on better things."

"It takes what it takes."

"Yes, and I do not want to go to my grave with this feeling of PTSD. I want it gone. How I could have fallen under Ari's spell? How could I have ever seen anything likable in him? How?"

"You sought out something less than terrible in your captivity," said Jimmy. "It's said that Hitler loved his dog. That doesn't make him any less of an evil man, but you know…some people might glom onto that as a sign that he wasn't entirely a monster." He shook his head. "Not that I'd accept that."

"The more fool me, then," Ducky said gloomily.

"You're not a fool, Duck," said Gibbs, studying the older man's face. "You did what you needed to do to survive. There's no shame in that."

Shame? Maybe that's what's wrong with me. I feel shame. Cowardly. Ineffectual.

Gibbs' phone rang, and he walked out, already talking on it. When Jimmy left a minute later to take samples to Abby, Ducky was alone with the corpse before him…and the one he could still see in him mind, lying partway into the house's library.

Ziva came by a little later when Ducky was alone again. He was a bit surprised to see her. He didn't know her that well, and she kept her personal life bottled up. He respected her desire for privacy, and had never coaxed her to talk about herself.

"Is there something I can do for you, my dear?"

"It has been three months, to the day, since you were rescued," she said without preamble. "I was concerned for you. You are not the same…jolly? No perhaps that is not the right word. Cheerful man I first met."

He harrumphed. "I should think you would have more to worry about, Ziva. I know a bit about your background…"

"I trained as an assassin."

It was always disquieting to hear such a statement. "Yes, well…: he floundered.

"Does that upset you, Ducky?"

"I am sworn to save lives, not to take them," he said firmly. "But you…"

"I think I save lives, too, in a way," she said. "People do not like thinking about good and evil being in the world. But it is there, and evil will not go away by ignoring it."

"But is it for us to judge what is evil? And furthermore, to act on this?"

"I believe you know the answer to your first question, Ducky. Identifying it does not make the eradication of evil easier."

"You are speaking of shades of gray. The good qualities that exist inside an evil person."

"Evil acts. Evil persists, and grows. Evil kills more and more people unless it is stopped. I could not let Ari kill Gibbs and you. I had to stop him." She lowered her head for a moment and then raised it. "None will mourn him."

"You do not know that. He may have had friends, colleagues, family…"

She sniffed, just once. "I was his family. Ari was my half-brother. Few people know this."

"My heavens! Ziva, your half-brother…!"

"Do not cry for me. Do not cry for him, either. He made his choices in life. When we were young…he was a kind older brother. And then…"

"I…I don't know what to say."

"In a way, I am glad that you saw his charming side. We have not talked much about it, but perhaps, when you are beyond the PTSD, we can talk…and you can tell me about your conversations with him."

"I would like that very much, my dear," he said, and he then felt a weight lift from his shoulders.

- END -