AN: It seems we've been spelling it wrong all along, it should be slainte not slainthe – but to alter it I'd have to re-upload all the earlier chapters, so please forgive me for my idleness! Apologies for the long delay in completing this tale; RL has been full of upheavals, bereavement and angst for both of us (excuses, excuses,) but here it is at last.

Slàinte Mhath

Chapter 5

Ducky ambled over and sat down across from him, eyeing him carefully.

"Aren't you going to eat anything, Anthony? Surely all that chasing of suspects has given you a wee bit of an appetite?"

"Not really hungry, Ducky. But thanks." Tony's eyes flicked up at the ME ever so briefly, then returned to focus on the smooth, light golden liquid.

"Young Des is none the worse for wear, he's learned a valuable lesson and will no doubt be severely punished for his actions, or should I say, inaction. But thanks to you he at least is still alive." An odd look he couldn't fathom (after all, he hadn't felt something that might have been a log push against his legs,) fleeted across Tony's face, but then it was gone. "We may not be able to bring poor young Kyle back, but at least now we know what happened, and we've got closure for his family. And in the past eight years, Anthony, not once have I ever known you to pass up a free meal. Might I ask what's troubling you?"

Tony pursed his lips. "I'm not really in a party mood tonight, that's all. I'd be back at the hotel right now if I didn't need to hitch a ride with McMerriment. Do me a favour, Ducky, and ask him if he minds calling it a night?"

The ME thought he'd not seen such sadness in Tony's eyes since the day he'd been forced to let Jeanne Benoit walk out of his life for good. Instinct told him the root cause, and he wasn't about to sit around and let things fester any longer. He tutted and gave a heavy sigh as he hoisted himself up from the table, leaving Tony to his own devices (or so he thought).

Tony watched him merge with the revellers once more, and sure enough, a few moments later, along came Tim, camera slung around his neck and a grin on his face.

"Hey, Tony. Drink up. There's someone over there that's had an eye on you all evening. I said I'd introduce you." Tim was feeling slightly superior, in the role of match-maker. Nice to have the shoe on the other foot for a change. He got no reaction. He decided to try a different tactic. "I got some great shots." He scrolled through the digital frames proudly, occasionally stopping to point out a particularly breathtaking shot of the water, backed by snow-capped mountains and verdant green pastures. There was barely a grunt of acknowledgement. "Didn't get any shots of Nessie, though. Abby's going to be terribly disappointed."

When not even this aroused a word from his partner, Tim set down the camera and turned sideways to face DiNozzo. "C'mon, Tony. This isn't like you. It's not like you're hung over or anything. What gives?"

"I wanna go home, ok, Tim? Is that too much to ask?" Tony snapped. "Didn't Ducky tell you?"

"What? No, I haven't even seen Ducky for the past hour." Tim carefully increased the distance between them and clutched his camera protectively.

Tony sighed dejectedly, and slung back the remainder of his scotch in one gulp. "I'm sorry, Tim. I'm just a little edgy, I guess. Mind if we go now?" He started to stand.

"Not so fast, DiNozzo."

NCISNCISNCIS

Nobody knew better than Ducky how much Leroy Jethro Gibbs loathed having to make small talk. Nevertheless, Ducky also knew Jethro was quite good at it, when the need arose, and he soon found his old friend chatting amiably with the Chief Constable.

Well, if he could talk to Keith, he could bloody well talk to his own team, Ducky thought to himself as he marched up to them determinedly. "Excuse me, Keith. I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but I'm afraid Agent Gibbs is needed elsewhere just now." Gibbs actually looked slightly relieved. That won't last long, Ducky mused.

"Of course. I see some of my guests are getting ready to leave, so I'd best be saying my goodbyes, in any case. You'll excuse me, Agent Gibbs." He smiled and nodded, then turned to see to the departing revellers.

Gibbs felt Ducky take his elbow and almost yank him towards the tent. "Something wrong, Duck?"

"Yes, it most certainly is," Ducky responded tersely. "We've already had this conversation. This has gone on long enough, Jethro. You need to talk to those boys. I'm quite concerned about young Anthony in particular."

"Was planning on talking to them tomorrow, while we're waiting for our ride home, Duck. What's the rush?"

Ducky stopped dead in his tracks, turned and faced Gibbs, a pained expression on his face. "Rush? Honestly, Jethro. It's been more than a month."

Vance's words echoed in Gibbs' head. Sooner rather than later, Jethro. He sighed.

"Yeah, you're right, Duck. Got any advice for me?" He desperately hoped his old friend could suggest a way to handle this without making things worse. This was all about feelings. He was out of his element, and he wasn't even sure he'd handled this whole Ziva mess the right way to begin with.

Ducky smiled up at him and placed both hands on his shoulders. "I believe I said 'see what transpires.' Trust your gut, Jethro." And with that, he wandered back into the crowd. Gibbs braced himself, cracked his neck in the way he was wont to do when the stress mounted, and marched resolutely to face the moment he'd been dreading.

NCISNCISNCIS

"Not so fast, DiNozzo."

Tony glanced up at the familiar voice. Why was he always surprised when Gibbs snuck up on him like that? Usually it was just mildly startling or unnerving. But in the foul mood in which he found himself, his reaction was uncharacteristically visceral.

"What'd I do now, boss?" He growled. Gibbs raised an eyebrow, but remained utterly inscrutable...which only served to aggravate Tony all the more. He might never get another opportunity like this one, and with a witness, no less. Emboldened by the heady buzz of the scotch, he lifted his chin and forged ahead. "Look. I know you're pissed at me. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's reading people, and you've been an open book ever since we left the tarmac in Tel Aviv. But, God help me, for some unknown reason I just kept busting my butt, trying to turn things around...trying to get you to let it go. I should've known that'd never happen – once you've made up your mind about someone, that's it.

"So I screwed up. The moment Rivkin answered the door at Ziva's apartment, I should've just turned around and gone back to my car to call for reinforcements. Vance already gave me that lecture, so you can save your breath. I just want to point out that I was following orders. You told me to stay on it, and I did. I did what you told me to do. So if you want to blame me for Ziva deciding to go back to Mossad, go ahead. Doesn't matter now anyway... " He trailed off.

Tim looked like he'd rather be just about anywhere else, but Gibbs would only order him to stay put anyway, so he slid a little further to the side and tinkered with his camera lens.

"You done?"

"Yeah. I'm done. We're done. It's done." Tony downed the rest of his scotch in a single, savage gulp. He made a move to stand, but quickly thought better of it as a wave of vertigo came over him. His jaw was clenched, and he glared at Gibbs defiantly.

Gibbs knew it wasn't the alcohol talking. He also knew DiNozzo wasn't done. Not by a long shot. He'd made this situation far worse by keeping silent for so long. He'd already lost Ziva; and now he was in danger of losing his SFA as well. It was time to set the record straight, before irreparable damage was done.

Gibbs had never been one to play favourites. Even so, he'd felt a special closeness to Ziva ever since she'd killed Ari in his basement, and no doubt Tony had picked up on that. Even when her true motives had been revealed, for some strange reason he had still trusted her...until Michael Rivkin's arrival on the scene. It had been hard to face the possibility that his judgement had been impaired, and he'd focused all of his attention instead on removing the Kidon agent from the picture.

Had he encouraged Tony a little too much in his hounding of Rivkin? Had he driven Tony to behave rashly? He wasn't used to doubting himself like this, but part of him wondered if this whole mess had been his fault. Should he have taken a more active role instead of leaving it to Tony to sort out? Maybe he could have made Ziva listen to reason, while she interpreted Tony's involvement as meddling in her personal life.

He rounded the table and sat down directly opposite Tony, giving DiNozzo his characteristic steel blue, Alpha stare. Whatever doubts and uncertainties he harboured, there was no way his SFA was ever going to know about them.

"Ziva staying in Israel was my decision, Tony, not hers," he asserted.

Tony's eyes narrowed.

"She said she couldn't work with you anymore. But she wanted me to move you to another team. Not going to happen. She forced my hand, Tony. I had to make a choice. I chose you."

There. That wasn't so hard, was it? He tilted his head, and waited for a reaction.

There were only four people on the planet who could lock horns with Gibbs for more than a few seconds and live to tell about it; three of them were redheads who had once shared his surname. The fourth was Tony DiNozzo. Shocked rigid by what Gibbs had just said, Tim suddenly realized he'd been holding his breath, waiting for Tony to respond. Hypoxia was just around the corner, so he let out an audible gush of air and glanced up at the ceiling of the tent.

Tony's expression softened slightly, but he remained mute for what felt to Tim like an eternity, staring at the boss. Finally...

"Why?"

"Why...?"

"Why me? Why me, and not her, boss?"

Gibbs raised his chin. "Do you trust her, Tony?"

Tony gave a wry smile. "What do you think?"

"I don't know what to think, DiNozzo. But I do know one thing...I trust you. I've never doubted that you've got my six." He looked pointedly at McGee. "Both of you." Tim grinned with relief. "Trust and loyalty...those are the only two things I demand from my people." He stood and turned to go. Pausing for a moment, he turned and added as an afterthought, "If anyone screwed up in this whole thing, it was me. I didn't have your six, Tony. Won't happen again." And with that, he strode back into the crowd, leaving two dumbfounded and bewildered agents to ponder his words.

"Was that an apology, Tony?" Tim muttered.

"I'm not sure," the SFA responded softly. "But I'll take it."

He was silent for a long time, however, and Tim wasn't going to interrupt his thoughts, processing, as he was, the same piece of information. Ziva had made Gibbs choose. The one who had betrayed all their trust over Rivkin, and then turned and accused them of it had attempted to enlist Gibbs into that betrayal.

Tim sighed silently, and with some anger; the Boss was right to be apologetic. He should have told them long ago. Like when he strode, stony faced into the bullpen without her, and with Tony matching him stride for stride, his jaw set but bewilderment in his eyes. It had been bad ever since then.

'You didn't have the right to keep that to yourself, Boss,' the young agent thought reproachfully. 'If you were doing it to protect yourself it didn't work... and it didn't do a lot for us. I miss her; I worry about her. That won't change, even now I know what she did.' He stole a sideways glance at Tony, who was looking back out over the water, his face as stiff as it had been that day. 'And Tony... at least he'd have known what he was trying to move on from – now he has to start all over again. OK, at least he knows now that you have his back... Hope he knows I do.' Another thought struck him, springing up unbidden and unwelcome, bringing a sharp intake of breath that he couldn't smother. 'I wonder if it had been me, how he'd have chosen. Do I matter that much... stop that, it's foolish –'

"We'll be all right, Tim," Tony said suddenly. "In the end we'll be all right. Gibbs has our backs; yours as well as mine –"

"How did you know I was thinking that?"

Tony shrugged with that same wry smile. "Don't know. Wasn't sure." At Tim's sceptical look he spread his hands in an apologetic gesture. "Hey, I just felt it maybe...but yeah, he'd have chosen you."

Tim looked at him in near disbelief. "That's exactly what I was thinking at that moment. Do you know what I was thinking before that?"

"Well, not exactly... but we must be thinking the same sort of thing, yeah? I mean, I know you're mad at him. So'm I. But we'll get through it. Somehow."

"I guess we must," Tim said slowly. "Be thinking the same sort of thing." He grinned. I'd never have believed it. A moment ago I was feeling angry... insecure... miserable..."

"But now, you've thought it through and you feel a bit better. More hopeful."

"Not until you said so," Tim said honestly. " But it kind of switched on like a light. We must be more alike than we thought." He shook his head. "Heaven forbid..."

"Amen. Let's go and find Gibbs. Or failing that," he added with some bravado, since he was as unsteady as a weeble when he stood up, "some nice ladies to dance with. That one you mentioned earlier..."

Tim smiled again as they turned away from the water, to walk slowly towards the music and the crowd. "I still can't believe us thinking the same thing... and switching like that – "

Behind him there was a loud, watery plop, like the sound of a fish jumping. Heck of a big fish though... they both turned back to look, but there were only spreading ripples in the water. Over to their right, by the water's edge, and in the shadow of the trees where they hadn't noticed him before stood the poet and monster hunter, looking over the water. He smiled benignly at them and sketched a salute.

"What Ronnie said... " Tony muttered as he waved back...

"Nessie comes when she's needed... " Tim agreed.

"In times of stress, trial and tribulation..."

They shook their heads. "Nah..." they said, and headed for the bar.

AN: Best wishes for a lovely Christmas and New Year, from Proseac and scouse.