May 9
Our dearest friends shall invariably speak of us as though they were blind to all our faults, but keenly alive to every shade of our virtues. – Anthony Trollope, Barchester Towers
Ducky did not look up as the doors to Autopsy swished open. He knew it could only be one person, and that person would talk in his own time.
Instead, he focused on completing the paperwork for his latest guest. He did not like children crossing his table, although he was not sure his guest was much of a child. He had been seventeen, killed both of his parents for the inheritance, and had tried to kill his much younger sister when she had threatened to tell the truth. Only Anthony's quick actions had saved her life, but he had been forced to kill the brother.
Understandably, Anthony was now taking it badly. And others were starting to worry about him too.
He heard his friend approach and he remained silent.
Behind him, Jethro began to talk. "Tony still thinks there was a chance he could have taken out that kid without killing him."
Ducky sighed. "Anthony is a fine agent and I am sure he took the best option available to him," he replied. "He is experienced and he knows what he is doing."
"I know," Gibbs muttered.
Ducky turned around to face his friend. "Have you told him that?" he inquired. "He takes what you say very seriously and it would mean a lot to him."
Gibbs seemed to consider it for a moment, before nodding his head and walking out.
Ducky smiled to himself. Anthony might need a helping hand, but he would be back to his best in no time.