"Where are they?" asked Pru when she came back with a bottle of wine in each hand.

"Went back to the cabin," said Tony calmly.

"Why? Did you say something to offend them?"

"No," said Tony. He then continued smugly, "I may have given them a break in the case. Gibbs has whisked them away to consider next moves."

"But what about supper?" asked Pru.

"First casualty in a Gibbs war is food," said Tony, "they'll be back when they're done."

"Shall we wait for them?"

"No. They can have it later if they want."

"Oh," said Pru, still standing with the bottles of wine, "Oh."

"What's the matter?" asked Tony seeing a disappointed look on her face, "What's up?"

"I'm just being silly," she said, "I'd forgotten that there was a case. I felt as if they had come as friends. And now they rush off to work."

"Doesn't mean they're not friends as well," said Tony, taking the wine off her and putting an arm round her shoulder. "Work comes first."

"Was that what it was like? When you were on the team?" asked Pru.

"Guess so," said Tony.

"It seems a bit … harsh," said Pru.

"You get used to it," said Tony.

"Do you miss it?" asked Pru. "The excitement, the drama?"

"Sometimes," said Tony. He saw a sudden doubt in her eyes, "but there was an awful lot of boring routine as well. And stakeouts in the middle of winter in cold cars eating cold takeout and trying not to fall asleep."

"Do you need to go see what they're doing?" asked Pru.

"Nope. I'm not on the team now. So I get to eat the pot roast and drink a glass of wine. And if it's all gone by the team Gibbs puts its head over the parapet, well, that's tough on them. Come on, let's eat. And you can tell me about your day. Did anyone throw up on you today?"

NCISNCIS

Ellie and McGee trailed a little disconsolately behind Gibbs as he strode back to the cabin. The smell of the pot roast wafted after them and McGee found himself wishing that Tony's epiphany moment had been delayed a few minutes.

"McGee," said Gibbs, "see if there's any satellite coverage available of the Admiral's estate. If there isn't, get some arranged."

"Yes, Boss. Um, what are we looking for?" asked McGee even as he charged his laptop up. "Right. We'll know when we see it," he added hastily when Gibbs simply glared at him.

"Bishop. Do a thorough background on the Admiral and his family. Look at his finances, see if there's been any unusual expenditure or income recently. See if you can find out who's staying at his place, who's currently on his training courses. Try and track anyone who's completed one of the courses, see if we can find out what happens on one of them."

"Yes, Boss," said Ellie. "You think the emblem was a signal?"

"I don't think the Admiral has got sloppy," said Gibbs, "remember that DiNozzo said that the Admiral shook his head when he saw him last week?"

"Yes."

"Maybe he was gesturing towards the emblem. He might have thought that DiNozzo would notice it being on wrong," said Gibbs.

"Was that the sort of thing Tony noticed when he was on the team?" asked Ellie. McGee and Gibbs nodded distractedly. "That's not from a movie," said Ellie softly under her breath.

After a couple of hours' hard work, Gibbs relented enough to allow them all a meal break. They went back to the main house to find the kitchen was tidied up and clear. Gibbs felt a slight sense of shock that Tony and Pru weren't sitting there waiting for them to return; somehow he still expected Tony to be focussed on the case.

Pru was sitting at the kitchen table tapping on a laptop. She looked up as the team came in, "Hi," she said, "there's pot roast keeping warm in the oven if you want some. Help yourselves. I just need to finish checking details of the care visits."

McGee nodded and started getting out plates and silverware.

"Where's Tony?" he asked.

"Oh, he had some work to do," said Pru vaguely.

"He's gone out?" asked McGee.

"No, he's in the den. He's looking at possible pieces for a music competition."

"Sophia?" asked Bishop.

"No. Sophia's sorted. This is Miguel; he's good but he gets nervous, Tony needs to find a piece that he'll enjoy but not get flustered over."

"How many pupils has Tony got?" asked Tony.

"Three. No, four. He doesn't take them on until they've reached a reasonable standard. He used to have more but now that he's a judge now as well so he doesn't take on so many. What?" she said as she looked up to see bemusement on McGee's face.

"Nothing," he said, "just didn't realise Tony was so much into his music."

"Well, he wasn't," said Pru, "but every …"

"… little helps," finished Tim.

"Yes," said Pru. "Do you need anything else? If not, I'm going to bed. It's been a long day. There's pie in the fridge and some ice cream if you want it. I'm sure Agent Gibbs knows where the coffee maker is!"

Gibbs simply lifted a fork full of pot roast as acknowledgement of her invitation.

NCISNCIS

Pru's pot roast was undoubtedly delicious but it lay heavily on Tim's stomach that night. That, at least, was his justification for a sleepless night and the reason for him being up early the next morning. He went for a walk to clear his head in readiness for a demanding day of Gibbsness and found his way to the lake where he saw Tony sitting with a fishing pole in his hand.

"Fishing?" queried Tim.

Tony turned and smiled, "Hey, McEarlyBird!"

Tim sat down beside Tony and said once more, "Fishing?"

"Ah. Well, it seems a bit wasteful to live on the edge of a lake and not fish."

"Every little helps, eh?" said Tim.

"What?" said Tony, "well, I guess it would if I knew what I was doing. There's brown trout in here but I think they just get together out there and laugh at me. I've never caught anything."

"Then why do it?"

"I'm hoping to lull them into a full sense of security and one day a fish will commit hari-kari and throw itself on to my hook. Should I even have a hook?"

"Don't ask me," said Tim, "never really got into fishing."

Tony nodded and returned to contemplating the still surface of the water as if he could will a suicidal fish to swim by.

"So," he said, "how's the love life, McRomeo? Teamed up with any more madwomen who've stolen your credit cards?"

Tim decided to ignore the painful memory and to refrain from giving details of his other romantic mishaps, "I'm in a committed relationship, thank you," he said a little primly.

"Way to go, McGoo," said Tony, slapping him on the back, "I'm proud of you."

"Her name's Delilah," said Tim, manfully ignoring a stifled chuckle from Tony, "she works for DoD."

"Look at you," said Tony, "my little Timmy is all grown up. Well done!"

"She's in a wheelchair," said Tim, "got injured in a terrorist attack."

"Jeez," said Tony penitently, "I'm sorry, Tim. That's tough."

"We're getting there," said Tim, "we're living together. It's working out."

"Good," said Tony, "that's good. And the writing? How's that going? Can't say that Viggo Lance is my favourite character but thank you for not killing Agent Tommy off."

"You're welcome," said Tim.

"Not so sure about you sending him off to live in the Outback of Australia to 'find himself' but you're the author."

"I wanted to be able to bring him back if I needed to," said Tim.

"Not going to happen," said Tony.

"Tony," said Tim, "I'm sorry!"

"For what?"

"The way things ended," said Tim.

"Forget it, Tim, it wasn't your fault."

"Still …" began Tim.

"Tim," said Tony firmly, "I screwed the pooch in LA. I deserved what I got."

"Tony, it wasn't your fault. You followed orders. Director Shepard knew what she was doing. There wasn't anything else you could do."

"Oh, yeah," said Tony bitterly, "you think that Gibbs wouldn't have done something different? Wouldn't have saved the day?"

"You're not Gibbs," said Tim.

"Heard that before," said Tony.

"Mike Franks was there," said Tim, "if he couldn't stop it what makes you think you could have?"

"If we'd got there a bit sooner we could have tried," said Tony.

"Yes, and maybe you and Ziva would have been killed too," said Tim, "I never told you how relieved I was that it wasn't you or Ziva who were dead when the phone call came in."

"You were?" said Tony a little doubtfully.

"Yes, I was," said Tim firmly, "and we … I … never made it clear enough that I didn't think it was your fault that the Director died. I'm sorry."

"That's OK, McGee," said Tony patting him on the shoulder.

"I should have kept in touch after you left," said McGee.

"Works both ways," said Tony, "I wasn't exactly correspondent of the year. And I know how busy it is working for Gibbs."

"But …"

"No buts," said Tony, "we could have both done better. You know where I am now. And, Tim, it wasn't because of you that I left."

"Gibbs?" asked Tim, "He said it wasn't your fault."

"With Gibbs actions speak louder than words," said Tony, "he said the words but he never backed them up. All I could see was the sadness and anger in his eyes and I knew it was me who put them there. I half expected him to turn up at the apartment while I was packing up that day but he never showed. I ended up going to see Ducky the night before I was due to sail."

"Perhaps Gibbs expected you to show up at his place?" suggested Tim.

"Maybe," said Tony, "but Tim, you were there in the days before the funeral. You saw what he was like with me. Was there any suggestion I'd have been welcome at his place?"

"I don't know," said Tim, "I don't know. But I do know it wasn't fair what happened to you."

Tony shrugged, "Comes with the territory, I guess. I was in charge: my responsibility, my punishment."

"You weren't in charge," protested Tim, "Director Shepard was."

"I think that's called semantics," said Tony, "not something Gibbs is big on."

"Tony …"

"Enough," said Tony, "it was a long time ago, Tim. I'm doing all right for myself. Who knows what would have happened if I'd stayed? Didn't feel that Vance would have reassigned me to the Navy Yard without Gibbs pressing for it and that didn't seem likely. Besides, I wasn't his kind of agent. He likes the geeky ones."

"Thanks," said Tim.

"You know what I mean. He was always going to prefer agents who can type with more than two fingers. And we didn't exactly get off to a good start when we met with Jeanne accusing me of murder."

"You were innocent," protested Tim.

"Wasn't a great first impression, though," said Tony, "and first impressions count."

"He thought enough of you to send you to Baghdad with Nikki," said Tim.

"Probably hoped I'd be blown up," said Tony gloomily, "but, no, you're probably right. And it doesn't matter now."

"What happened?" asked Tim, "when you got on board the Ronald Reagan?"

"It felt claustrophobic," said Tony, "couldn't stand the thought of being at sea with everyone hating me. I realised I was only at NCIS because of Gibbs – take him out of the picture and there was nothing to stay for. So I decided to quit. Sent an email to Vance and walked off."

"Did you tell Gibbs?"

"No. He wasn't my Boss anymore. And it didn't feel like he'd care much. Would have been a waste of time and you know how he feels about waste."

"We missed you," said Tim, "when Ziva and I were reassigned. It didn't feel right. Gibbs was grumpy; well, grumpier than usual. Abby had a Tony shrine and was really pissed at Gibbs."

"Did you make Senior Field Agent?"

"Not at first. Vance insisted on giving Gibbs other guys."

"Bet that worked well," huffed Tony.

"It was almost fun to watch," said Tim, "or would have been if it hadn't been terrifying as well. There was one guy, former Marine – Gibbs made him cry; actually cry! Then Vance tried a woman, a former Metro PD lieutenant: she walked out after two days but she tipped Gibbs' coffee over his head before she went."

Tony laughed.

"I think Vance began to realise how good you were after that," mused Tim, "He gave up on a substitute you at that point. Asked me if I was insane enough to take it on."

"And you were?"

"What, insane? Yes, I guess so but somehow I thought I owed it to you."

"Why?"

"'Cos you'd trained me. 'Cos you cared about the team and I didn't want it to collapse."

"And how's it been?" asked Tony.

"I've nearly killed Gibbs a few times," admitted Tim, "you know, thought about rigging a firing range 'incident' or setting his computer to explode."

"But you haven't," observed Tony.

"No. I want to keep my pension," said McGee with a straight face. "And I guess I'm used to the ornery so and so."

"Is that so," said Gibbs coming up behind them.

"Boss!" jumped McGee in horror.

"Gibbs," acknowledged Tony placidly.

"You planning on doing any work today, Special Agent McGee?" asked Gibbs coolly.

"Yes, Boss. Of course, Boss," said Tim.

"Good," said Gibbs. He took a long look across the lake and then turned back to the house, assuming McGee would follow him.

McGee stood up but paused before turning, "Thanks, Tony," he said, "and, for the last time, I am sorry."

"I know, Tim," said Tony, "and thank you." They looked each other in the eye for a moment or two but then heard Gibbs roar, "Today, McGee!" Tim jumped in a manner not entirely befitting a NCIS Senior Field Agent and scurried towards the house.

NCISNCIS

"What do you know about Admiral Salter?" asked Gibbs as they all sat at breakfast.

"Retired about two years ago," said Tony, "I think he was born around here somewhere. He spoke about returning to where he was brought up. Being close to Portsmouth was a draw. He wanted to keep in touch with the Navy."

"And this camp he runs?" asked Bishop.

"Started about a year ago," said Pru, "he runs two courses a year. Usually last three months or so."

"How do people get on them?" asked McGee.

Pru shrugged, "don't know. It's not the sort of course I'm interested in! I think they pay. Usually young men, I'd guess the Admiral drives them pretty hard – they don't make it into town very often."

"You said it had been busier than usual," remembered Gibbs.

"A course finished just before Christmas," said Tony, "usually another one wouldn't have started until later in Spring but one started in February."

"And when did the rumours about him suffering from memory loss start?" asked McGee.

Tony looked at Pru, knowing she wouldn't answer. "Round the same time," he said, "which, like we said, seemed a bit hinky."

Gibbs nodded. "Has he got family?" he asked.

"Widowed ten years ago," said McGee, "one son and two grandchildren who live in Nauru."

"Nauru?" asked Gibbs.

"Remote island in the Pacific," said McGee, "Christopher Salter is doing research on the marine life there."

"Good luck," said Tony, "I've got to go."

"Deliveries?" asked Bishop.

"Piano lessons?" asked Tim. "Ditch digging?"

"School is back next week," said Tony vaguely, "there's tidying up to do. I won't know till I get there."

"I'll come too," said Pru, "I need to get on the road."

Gibbs watched them go; it still felt odd to have Tony around but not involved. McGee broke the ensuing silence,

"Uh, Boss. What we doing?"

"Get the satellite coverage," ordered Gibbs, "then you and Bishop drive round. Casually. Speak to people nearby. See if you can pick up any scuttlebutt."

"On it, Boss," said McGee and Bishop.

NCISNCIS

Some hours later Gibbs raised tired eyes from poring over the satellite pictures. Nothing had jumped out at him although he could see that there had been night-time movement of heavy vehicles. He hoped that the fresh surveillance due that night might bring fresh intelligence.

"Hi," said Pru, as she and Tony came back. "Decided to finish early today. It'll be busy next week."

"Yeah," said Tony, "once the kids come back everything goes crazy."

"I'm going to stretch my legs," said Gibbs, feeling the need for fresh air.

"I'll put the coffee on," said Pru, "so don't be long."

Gibbs nodded. If it felt odd not to have Tony involved with the case it also felt odd that Pru seemed actually to like his presence.

Gibbs hadn't been gone long before there was a frantic knocking at the front door. Tony sighed and went to open it.

"Admiral Salter!" he exclaimed in shock.

"I didn't know where else to come," he gasped, "I thought you could help."

"Come in," said Tony. "Pru!" he called.

Pru came running at the sound of urgency in his voice.

"Ed! What are you doing here? Sit down, calm down. Breathe. Do your exercises. Tony, get him a drink of water."

The Admiral was pale and sweaty but clearly trying to gather himself together. After a few moments, when it seemed he was more composed, Tony asked,

"What's wrong, Sir?"

"I think my family are being held hostage. And I think there's going to be an attack on Portsmouth! I managed to slip away this afternoon. They thought I was asleep."

"How did you get here, Sir?" asked Tony.

"There was a motorbike they didn't know about," said Salter, "I haven't ridden it for years but it was the only way I could get here."

"Who's 'they'?" asked Pru.

"Pru," said Tony, "go get Gibbs. He needs to know."

Pru nodded. She paused to look at the Admiral to make sure he was recovering and then hurried out. She was back almost immediately.

"Did you forget something?" asked Tony in surprise.

"Not really," said the stranger who was holding a gun to Pru's head.