Ach, sorry for not updating sooner. I implied at the beginning of this story that I would aim for daily updates but, as I only have one exam left so my leash is slackened, I am regaining my life so I have less time. Therefore, it is with no remorse that I am rejecting that promise and renewing it with: I will update when I can, as regularly as possible.

Tony helped Ziva back onto her stool and sat beside her, stroking her hand. She looked up at him, her worn face streaked with tears. Her eyes were pleading him to take away the burden of guilt which she had been bearing on her back for twenty-five years. How he longed to do what she asked. But it was impossible. What was done was done.

Eventually, she spoke and broke the torturous silence echoing round the basement. 'Sorry,' she muttered.

Tony shook his head. 'Don't be.' He didn't finish the sentence. There was no need. Everyone knew how it continued.

She nodded and smiled sadly, the pathetic grin not stretching to her dull eyes.

Tony squeezed her hand and leant his face closer to hers confidentially. The other parties at the table respectfully averted their eyes, although their ears remained pricked.

'What happened to –' He paused, struggling to choke out the name. '–Gibbs. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault but Bates's.'

She leaned closer still, moving her head so that her lips were closer to his cheek than his ear. 'Latimer's,' she corrected softly.

He smiled, genuinely this time. 'You have to let it go.'

Again, she nodded. And, after a slight hesitation, pressed her lips briefly to his cheek. At the touch of her lips, it flamed, the flush shooting across the weathered skin up to his forehead. She stroked his red cheek with her forefinger, running it down to his set jaw. Then, her hand dropped into her lap, and she pulled away from his body, sitting straight on the stool. Slightly disappointed, he drew back as well, and they turned to face forward.

Jimmy had watched the exchange with cold eyes. Perhaps this 'healing' process was a necessity to them returning to their old investigative prowess but, to him, it merely seemed like something else slowing down the process of rescuing his defenceless children.

Coughing pointedly, he stood up and waited for their full attention. Slowly, they turned to face him. He scratched his cheek nervously. Their gazes were hostile, and he was not a naturally confident speaker. But this was for his children, he reminded himself. If they could set aside their differences, he should probably air his grievances before it hindered the search for his beloved children.

'I didn't want to ask you to come here,' he announced bluntly.

It had the desired effect; they all stared at him, abandoning the distractions and focussing on him.

'You obviously don't care about two innocent children facing a preventable death and you are not the same people that sat in that orange room flashing through cases effortlessly.'

Eight eyes were fixed on him, narrowed and with a hint of anger.

He continued, regardless of the enmity: 'If my children hadn't been in grave danger, I would never have called you.' He looked directly at Tony and Ziva, who had the grace to flinch slightly. 'I hate you and I will never be able to forgive you.'

Tony stood up, knocking his stool to the floor with a dull crash. 'Hey!' he protested vehemently. 'You have no idea what was going on in our lives at that time! We could have had a very good legitimate reason.'

Jimmy raised one eyebrow sceptically. After a noticeable pause, Ziva jumped to her feet, joining Tony in protesting their innocence.

'Don't judge us until you know what was going on in our heads at the time,' she told him sharply.

Jimmy met their gaze evenly, refusing to give up ground. For eight years he had been certain of his hatred. He was not about to drop eight years of harbouring a venomous rage.

'He was dying. Lying there, completely helpless. But every time that he saw me, his eyes lit up and he could relive his happier times.' Jimmy swallowed a lump in his throat. 'Abby and McGee only came once but even that one, short visit made him the happiest person in that lifeless building.'

Ziva lowered her eyes to the floor, but it was clear that she was not feeling guilty. A single tear dribbled off the point of her chin onto the flagstones, but it was not shed for Ducky.

'He was always there for you!' Jimmy shouted, losing his temper. 'But when he needed you most, you couldn't be bothered to come and visit him! You're selfish! Selfish bastards!'

Tony set his jaw squarely and looked Jimmy in the eyes, slightly taken aback by the fire raging in those watery pupils. 'I was undercover,' he said simply.

Jimmy shook his head furiously. 'That's no excuse! He was in that care home for three years! All he needed was an hour of your time!'

Tony shook his head. 'If I'd gone, he would have been more concerned than pleased. I was a mess.'

Jimmy was still not accepting that argument. 'If you'd cared, you would have been able to take a bath and be sober for one afternoon.'

'It's not as easy as that,' Tony muttered.

It was slightly remorseful, Jimmy noted. Perhaps this was the older Tony's version of an apology. Gibbs had drilled into his team the weakness of apologising. Jimmy had never agreed with that lesson and he doubted that Ducky had agreed with Gibbs's opinion in that particular instance.

'What about the funeral?' Jimmy demanded.

Tony lowered his eyes. 'I was undercover,' he repeated. 'In prison. I couldn't just up and leave.'

Jimmy was speechless with anger. He refused to accept such a feeble excuse, especially sans apology. He shifted his gaze to face Ziva, who was still staring at the floor. 'What's your pathetic excuse?' he spat.

She tilted her head sideways as she raised it, avoiding everyone's eyes to stare markedly at the wall painted with a glossy coat of mildew.

'I should have visited,' she conceded. 'But I was in a different care home.'

Before that confession, everyone, excepting Jimmy, had been eyeing her listlessly. Now, they were all staring at her in concern.

'My husband...' she faltered. Tony moved slightly closer to her, and she drew up her chest, summoning her almost depleted reserve of energy. 'My husband was dying as well, and I didn't like to leave him for a day to visit Ducky.' Her face visibly contracted but no more tears dripped lamely down her face. 'I was going to come to Ducky's funeral – I was, honestly – but he recessed the week before and I really couldn't leave him.'

Jimmy's anger dissipated and he was instead filled with guilt. He had hated with such passion a woman who had been in a worse situation than him. Ducky had been a great friend and mentor but the bond between spouses ran deeper.

Tony winced as he gently touched Ziva's shoulder. 'Is he –?' he began shakily.

She spun round and buried her face in his chest at those words. 'He died two years ago,' she whispered hoarsely.

He nodded and rubbed circles on her back with his thumb. 'I'm sorry,' he muttered.

Any requests for anything specific to happen? After a couple more ideas that I would like to explore, I am kind of running out. In particular, is there anything that I have already brought up that you would like me to develop further; Tony's drinking, for instance?