AN: Wow, I am so sorry about the delay on this chapter. Thank you for the reviews, you all have been amazing. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to write it out, I so appreciate them. One more chapter and then this should conclude. I have a new story I'm working on and hopefully that will deliver. Happy reading!

"So you punched him?!"

That I actually don't remember. I remember seeing red, but I can't remember actually punching him. It's okay though, because I have this new saying that has helped ground me throughout these last two months, repeat after me, I don't give a fuck.

"Oh come on! What was I supposed to do?"

"There were a million of other things you could have done! Punching him was not one of them!"

Oh that's rich.

"Gibbs-"

"Damn it DiNozzo!"

"What?!"

"You punched him!"

Already established.

"You don't find anything wrong with that?"

I shrug. He was a prick and he was so asking for it. Gibbs however is eyeing me like he's considering committing me.

"No, don't look at me like that! You should have heard the shit was saying to me."

He wanted to talk about my feelings, and my family, and my recuperation, and my feelings, and how my relationship is with my boss, and my feelings, my father, my dead mother, my dead partner from my days in Peoria, and my feelings damn it all he wanted to talk about my feelings.

"DiNozzo! He's a shrink! He's supposed to say that!"

"Oh basta please! He had no right to talk about my family. Work related things only, that's his job."

Ah, the Italian crept into my speech without my permission. Ha, New York is always hard to bury in the back of my head. Oh well.

"This involved your family."

"I don't care" I shoot right back, "The hell does he care? Fuck him, yo fuck this shit."

The head slap is swift and stingy. I guess this is a positive seeing as how Gibbs wouldn't hit me if he thought I was still too fragile or weak. That means they have to let me back to work soon…oh wait, part of coming back to work was passing the psych evaluation…hmm…perhaps I should have thought this one out.

"How are you supposed to be cleared for work now?"

"Huh" I reply, "Well…"

Gibbs sighs.

"DiNozzo I swear" he mutters, "Sometimes…"

He doesn't finish that as Director Vance comes charging into the conference room where we seem to be settled.

"Anthony" he starts, "I had heard that there was an altercation between you and Dr. Morris. How are you feeling?"

Well this is one brilliant change that has occurred since this whole ordeal. I practically can do anything around here without getting any shit for it, well except from Gibbs of course. Everyone is afraid I'll either sue or give bad publicity, and truth to be told I might just have pretended to be talking to a lawyer while the great and mighty director was present just to put the thought in his head.

"I would really like to return to my job sir" I respond back.

"And in a few weeks you will have the opportunity to do so, however I do think that you should try and enjoy the time you have off."

Okay so I'm not so that worshiped around here that I can just get off scot free for punching someone.

"Sir?"

"I have persuaded Dr. Morris to postpone your psychiatric evaluation until a later date when you are more mentally prepared. I understand how demanding your recuperation schedule is at this time and how this was probably the last thing you needed right now."

Or perhaps I am. I can see Gibbs trying not to puke; it's a valiant effort.

"Dr. Morris" Vance continues, "Is under the impression that what happened was a result of stress and is unlikely to repeat itself in the field."

A mental breakdown? Fine. If that's how they are going to explain my anger issues and my punching that nosy son of a bitch in then fine, I had a mental breakdown. If this is an out, I am so taking it. Cause yo, I don't give a fuck.

"Yes sir" I reply, "I do apologize for my actions, everything has been quite overwhelming, trying to sort everything out and what not. I promise it will not happen again."

He seems satisfied with this response and that's the end of that. I look over to Gibbs to see his reaction. He slaps me again and walks out but not before stating that his cooking orders for dinner.

You see the other not so marvelous change was that I apparently cannot be left to my own devices and have been forced to live with Gibbs until Ducky sees fit. That in turn has made me Gibb's personal chef and maid until I can return to work. In retrospect, this is probably all my fault. After spending a week at Gibbs' place I had irritated the hell out of him enough to let him allow me to live in my own place with minimum supervision. This blew up in my face quite literally when I almost burned the whole place down. It wasn't even like I had fallen and couldn't get up while the gas was running…no I was just bored and decided to play with the microwave because I'm an idiot. When Dom and I were kids we used to put Dorito bags into the microwave and after a minute or so the metals in the bag would make it shrink into this really cool metal thingy. I don't know the exact reasoning for this scientific phenomenon but it was awesome, I was bored, and the microwave was challenging me. My little science project didn't turn out so well seeing as how my microwave was old and not well prepared for my Dorito bag. Maybe it was because it was the spicy Dorito bag, always should go with the original, the remakes are never any good. Anyhow there was a tiny explosion that may or may not have knocked me unconscious. Paramedics say I was out for the count, but I just think I blinked slowly and everyone had a field day. Anyhow once Gibbs learned it wasn't a terrorist attack but a creation of my own stupidity I was hauled off to live with him again. There is however light at the end of the tunnel…my birthday is at the end of the week and after two months of physical therapy and being forced to live with Gibbs in Gibbs's house I will be able to move back and return to work, and as a bonus Dom is coming down to help out.

And I so need to move out. Gibbs's inner clock apparently never left military life and he wakes up at, so help me God, no exaggeration, four fucking thirty every weekday. What the fucking hell? Seriously? He apparently just has to go for his morning run and have his paper, whatever. This wouldn't bother me if my sleeping in, to say eight, didn't personally offend him. "DiNozzo, you're still sleeping?" or "Lazy ass, get up" or "If you're not up in ten minutes I'm spraying you with water", and I assure you that was never an empty threat…I learned that the hard way.

My watching television also offends him. Gibbs doesn't do creative deep pondering shows, so fine, I tried for sports but we just so happen to root for different teams which proves to be problematic since Gibbs apparently is incredibly volatile when rooting for a team. It doesn't matter if his team was even playing, mine playing were enough to get him worked up into taunts; he just had to criticize my Yankee's and Jets. There is only so much a man can take.

Okay, so perhaps I'm being an ass. Gibbs has truly gone above and beyond…it's just that I need to be in my own house, to sleep in my own bed, not wake up at four thirty in the morning and to go back to work. And I need it so bad.

So you ask what have I been doing for two months? I would love to tell you that I did something awesomely productive with my time, but alas, I did not, and don't you try and judge me because remember, I don't give a fuck. What I did end up doing was planning my very own surprise birthday party, or at least I tried until I remembered that I hate planning shit; the guest list ended up being me, Dom, and Gibbs and only Gibbs because it's his house. To be perfectly honest, all I really need is a keg but what the hell. My pathetic party of three became intercepted by Abby who is became committed to throwing me a real party and then since then I have been doing nothing.

Well that's not completely true.

Gibbs has this piano. I'm pretty sure that it's off limits because it was either Shannon's or Kelly's because that man does not possess a musical cell in his body, but I couldn't help myself. Pianos like that are meant to be played. When Gibbs leaves for work I play, and damn it's a gorgeous instrument. There's something so classy and dangerous about the

piano and it took maybe four days of self-restraint before I started playing it.

I've been thinking too. I've always been one of those people that has had delayed reactions. Originally after the whole ordeal I was just numb. I couldn't feel anything, it was like a permanent case of shock and it wouldn't wear off no matter what I did. Sure, I was frustrated because I had to rely on others, but I was numb. And then I got back home and Gibbs just automatically took me in. Then I got mad. One simple act of kindness pushed me over the edge and I was just furious, and I stayed furious at everyone and everything; anger towards my father, towards those jackasses that took an oath to serve and protect and those animals in jail, I was just angry. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, I could do nothing but sit and think how fucked over I was. Gibbs was great. If there was ever anyone who knew true tragedy it's him. He knew and he didn't tell me to "cheer up" or any bullshit like that. He got it.

It's interesting really because in the beginning, I was the one to take care of him. I was the one who would talk for him or our team rather because well, Gibbs lacks a certain finesse when talking to people – what the hell am I saying, the man has no people skills whatsoever. I defended him and his actions and I was the one that was able to reign him in. I was also the one that got him to stop drinking as much. I pulled him out at least twice a week to go for drinks with me. In the beginning, I looked out for him because I felt for him; he was a veteran with a murdered wife and child. It should be weird the role reversal, but in all actuality, it's not.

I've also been doing more therapy than I care to share. I hate physical therapy. My body should just work, and that's it. The doctor has me on an incredibly strict diet to help my recovery and has absolutely forbid drinking with the currently prescribed medication. I don't think you're fully understanding how much of a death sentence that was. No drinking. My days start at four thirty in the morning and consist of physical therapy, paperwork (because there is always plenty of that), and boredom. So some days I skipped out on the meds for the drinking, or some days I just combined it and got so fucking drunk.

So sue me. Remember, I don't give a fuck.

NCISNCISNCIS

(Gibbs)

I keep reminding myself for these last three weeks that it's a good thing that no marines or sailors have been killed recently. So what if we have to continue to work cold cases and do paper work, it's a good thing.

Here's a bad thing. This team does not function anywhere near as well as it could with a man down. Each member of this team plays a very important role and the absence of one throws the dynamics of the entire team off. It's unsettling without DiNozzo.

Everyone, including myself, is off. Our chemistry is off, and as a result the days are longer and progress awaits for another day.

And truth to be told, I miss working with DiNozzo. Most people don't realize but I owe much of this team's success to him. After Mike retired, I refused to take on any subordinates and because I had seniority they couldn't put me under someone else's command. This in turn meant I had to do all of the work myself, which was a sizable feat. I took on DiNozzo after the kid put me in my place in Baltimore and because I could share it with him and because of that we started making a lot of progress. The two of us work very well together and he knows me better than he should. As a result, he'll take the beating for the team because he can take it. For that, I give him credit. I also give him credit for not being boring or arrogant or smug like some of the other teammates. Perhaps that's unfair, but I miss him and am bored with the other personalities. DiNozzo makes people come to life, and without him this team is dull and just going through the motions.

"Boss" McGee asks me quietly, standing at the front of my desk.

"Yeah" I say without looking up.

"Abby has an interesting visitor."

I swear to God.

"Should I care?"

"Boss, well, it's-"

I rub my temples.

"Spit it out McGee."

"It's Tony's father" Ziva chimes in from her desk.

Peter DiNozzo. What the hell?

"Where are they" I bark out a little more forcefully than normal.

"They just went for lunch" Ziva responds.

I stand up and look at my shaking agent.

"McGee" I yell, "Why is that man here?"

"I'm not exactly sure."

"Guess."

"Boss" he says twitting his thumbs, "Tony's surprise party is this Friday."

Surprise party, what a ridiculous notion, he planned the whole damn thing.

"Abby is inviting Peter to Tony's birthday?"

"She means well" McGee says.

I sigh. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

(Abby)

"So you really don't speak any Italian?"

I can see where Tony gets his persistence from. I'm pretty sure we've had this conversation at least three times.

"Nope" I respond as I take the muffins out of the oven.

"You're last name is Scuito! You must know some words, perhaps the curses yes?"

Heh, it's fascinating that he and Tony don't get along, they do seem to share so many qualities.

"I'm actually from Louisiana."

"Get the hell out of here" Peter responds while slapping his thigh. With a laugh he declares "Well you're a southerner".

I giggle in return.

"You speak any French?"

There is a crash emanating from the bathroom…another crash. Well there is no gene for grace.

"Everything alright" I call out.

There is groaning from my bathroom, and soon it opens revealing Dominic Leone with a towel wrapped around his waist dripping wet. Yum.

"Um I think I broke something".

"That's because you're an idiot" Peter yells from the kitchen, "Abigail dear, you leave him alone, you come back and keep me company, I am dying after all."

"That's getting real old Uncle Petey" Dominic yells back, and then returning his attention to moi, "I'm really sorry miss."

I ignore the "Don't call me that" from the kitchen; I am going to enjoy this wet piece of meat; mechanics have always been a fetish of mine.

"It's Abby" I say absently, "And what exactly seems to be broken."

He scratches his head, a gesture that it so Tony, "Well, I'm not exactly sure what it is, or what it was-um, I'll clean it up."

Ignorance is bliss, it's best if I don't know, and if he's offering to clean it up, well then, I'm a happy camper. I return to the kitchen to find Peter glaring in our general direction, but his eyes light up upon seeing me.

"Now you were saying you speak French?"

I grab the butter from the fridge.

"A tad of dialect" I respond, "I grew up in Louisiana in a real Cajun community so I can understand more than I can speak."

"So you are Catholic then?"

"Oui" I respond.

"Oh that's a good girl" he laughs back delightedly.

"To be honest though" I continue, "I really don't belong to the Cajuns and what not. My parents were deaf so I grew up within the deaf culture."

"Oh" he says pondering this, and then he throws his hands into the air mimicking signs, "So you do this sign thing?"

"Yes" I reply, "American Sign Language was my first language."

He goes to respond but there is an angry knock on the door-there is only one person that knock that angrily. I have been waiting for this all day so I am quite prepared. There is another crash from the bathroom and quick sorry, but I'm afraid I do not have time for another sneak peek.

I look through the peek hole out of habit and see a restrained Gibbs.

"Hello Gibbs" I say.

"Abby" he says shortly, "Sources tell me that Peter DiNozzo is here."

"Yes."

He's glaring now. Well, I answered the question. He was the one after all who taught me never to give more information out than necessary.

"Abby!"

And that's the end of that.

"Gibbs" I whine, "It's Tony's birthday! This is an excellent surprise present!"

He's glaring again.

I quietly shut the door behind me leaving me and Gibbs in the hallway of my apartment complex.

"He's dying."

Gibbs sighs.

"You can't make people do what you want them to Abs."

Oh I beg to differ.

"Tony and Peter both love each other, they are just too stubborn to meet with each other, so I am doing it for them."

Suddenly my favorite Jethro is looking quite tired.

"Abby" he says, "This is a bad idea."

"I disagree. You said yourself that Tony should reconcile with his father."

"Not like this! Abby, you just can't surprise people on each other! Look, this man, he's done his son wrong, very wrong."

"Not the point" I counter, "It's in the past and they both want this resolved, they just are stuck, so I'm moving them both forward. Peter made a big step by agreeing to come and meet with me."

Gibbs puts on this most thoughtful face.

"How did you get him to agree to come down here anyway?"

I give him a smile in response.

"That's not answer Abs."

"That's all you're getting."

"Peter DiNozzo doesn't know that he's here for Tony does he?"

Sometimes Gibbs is too good at his job.

"Abby!"

"Well he will be by the time party rolls around, me and Dominic are working him! He'll be ready by the time we need him to be."

Gibbs eyes snap to attention.

"Dominic is here?"

Time for a slow blink.

"Is James here also?"

"No?"

Of course the real answer is not yet, but I can leave that out for now.

"Good."

I love when Gibbs goes all papa bear. That kind of compassion and feeling for another individual means that he hasn't completely lost all of himself in his grief.

"I have to tell Tony."

Time for a foot stomp.

"Gibbs! No, look then it won't be a surprise!"

Gibbs sighs.

"I can't do that to him" he says, "he'll see it as betrayal from me. I have to tell him."

"Oh please don't!"

"Abigail" he says quietly, and now I know that whatever he says will be golden, "Tony's been really off lately, and he's very vulnerable. I have to tell him and then if he wants to see his father, it will be his decision and we have to respect that."

"He's still have problems sleeping?"

"Sleepwalking."

I frown.

"You have been-"

Hmm, what is the most tactful way to ask Gibbs if he has been taking care of our little Tony? Oh well, we have years of friendship.

"You've been with him right?

Gibbs is glaring at me like I personally offended him, and maybe I did, but I don't care. Gibbs doesn't always know exactly what the right thing is to do in certain situations. Now don't get me wrong, in most cases he is the most capable person ever, but sometimes, well sometimes he lacks certain qualities. When Tony was first brought on, I and him shared all our Gibbs stories because we were the only ones that could see past his hard exterior.

There is another crash from my apartment. It would be much more humorous if it wasn't my apartment, but then again, that's life, what are you going to do?