March 1946
United States

Tony reached the restaurant and apartment he had called home for the first twenty-two years of his life. Hanging in the window was the banner indicating that the family here had someone serving in the military. That acknowledgment was another surprise for Tony.

He remembered vividly the argument he and his father had when Tony told him he had enlisted rather than waiting to be drafted. The older DiNozzo had been livid. Already concerns of events in Italy had drifted to families here in the U.S. and with Mussolini now linked to Hitler, it would make Antonio a target.

Tony had argued that his ability to speak Italian would be a great help to the U.S. Forces. It would also give Tony an opportunity to visit the old country and maybe, if the situation arose, help family still there. His father read the logic for what it was – Tony's desire to be away from and out from under the rule of his patriarch.

By force of habit, Tony walked around to the back of the business and up the staircase that connected the restaurant with the apartment. The key was where he knew it would be, on the ledge above the door. He entered quietly, hoping the ghosts would remain asleep.

As he turned on a few lights, he was struck by the cleanliness of the apartment. His father's focus was the restaurant. His mother's focus had been their home. There were no dust bunnies furrowing on the floor. The wood smelled as if recently oiled and polished. He walked towards his room and opened the door. The bed was made and the room smelled fresh, not like something closed up for over four years. He dropped his duffle bag in the room and pulled the door shut.

When he turned back around Tony was surprised to see Sheriff Gibbs standing in the open door way.

"Is there a problem, Sheriff?" Tony asked, walking back toward the dining room table, near the middle of the apartment.

Coming in and closing the door behind him, the Sheriff replied, "None that I know of, Anthony. I just thought you might want some answers."

Tony looked around the apartment still feeling a bit lost. "What answers would those be, sir?"

"Well, I guess that would depend upon the questions, son."

"Please, Sheriff, I am not your son." That tone of arrogance and disdain was the DiNozzo Gibbs remembered.

"Alright, Anthony." And Gibbs pulled out a chair to the table and made himself comfortable.

Tony didn't know how to react. His previous encounters with Sheriff Gibbs were never friendly yet here he was, offering to help, he guessed.

"How long did your daughter work for my father?" Tony finally asked, taking a chair opposite the sheriff.

"She went to work for him right after you and Timothy left. He put a 'help wanted' sign in his window and, unbeknownst to me, she applied for the job."

"She says we met, but I can't remember it." Tony replied apologetically.

"I'm sure a high school senior waiting tables wasn't high on your list of priorities when you came to see your dad last time."

"I think I would have remembered someone that looks like your daughter," Tony's response was given absent-mindedly.

Gibbs cleared his throat and stifled the glare he felt, "Let's just say she doesn't quite look now like she did then and leave it at that, shall we?"

For the second time today, Tony felt himself blush. "Was he sick long?"

Finally, Gibbs thought, interest in his father. Jethro knew that the father-son relationship was extremely strained. He had been called to this area of town many times after Anthony graduated high school, the shouting between the two men raising concerns among the neighbors. He hadn't realized just how distant they were until earlier today. Tony's basic non-reaction to the news of his father's death giving away his inner feelings.

"No, Tony, he wasn't. In fact, according to Cali, he had seemed just fine and in high spirits. He had received notification that you had been awarded your Silver Star. Cali also said that he couldn't wait to tell everyone that came through the door that night. In fact, he gave everyone free dessert to celebrate."

Again, something that got an emotional response from the young lieutenant, "That can't be. My father never expressed any pride or satisfaction in any of my efforts." The bitterness in Tony's tone was not lost on Gibbs.

"Believe what you will, Anthony, but Cali has no reason to make it up. She doesn't remember any of the confrontations between you and your father like I do."

"So what happened?" Tony asked.

"A couple of days later, he was working in the kitchen and called for Cali. He told her he couldn't breathe and he was going outside to try to get some fresh air. A couple of hours later, when he hadn't returned, she went out to check on him. He was already dead. Doctor Mallard said it was probably something with his heart."

"What about…" Tony paused, not knowing how to ask the next question without it sounding callous, "I mean, how was he cared for?"

Gibbs nodded his understanding, "Your father left detailed information." Jethro got up from the table and walked to a chest of drawers against the far wall. Opening the top drawer, he pulled out a stack of official looking papers and brought them back to Tony.

"He took a liking to Cali. I suspect because she has a bit of brashness that reminded him of your mother, or possibly, you. Whatever it was, he took her into his confidence. He told her where to look if anything ever happened."

"That's a lot of responsibility for a twenty year old, isn't it?" Anthony's tone was shocked.

"Yeah, it is. But who else was he going to get to do it, Anthony? You? You weren't here." Gibbs was blunt.

"So, the restaurant, what about that?" He chose to ignore Gibbs' statement.

"It's all right there, Anthony." He pointed to the stack of papers. "You'll find his written will, a letter of instruction to Cali and to me. There's his bank statement. He had plenty of money to take care of his arrangements."

Tony nodded, glad that there wasn't someone else he was going to have to talk to about the situation.

"You'll also find the notifications from the army about your promotion and your commendation that were sent to your father."

Tony leafed through the papers as Jethro continued to speak. He had never thought his dad would find out about his situation but Tony guessed it made sense. He had to list his next of kin in the event he was killed. Antonio DiNozzo, Sr. was that person.

"There's one more thing I think you're going to want to read." And Gibbs reached into the stack of papers and removed an envelope. Tony recognized the heavy scrawl immediately. It was his father's.

"I don't think it'll answer all your questions but it may shed some light on why he did what he did. Read the will first, his letter to Cali and, then, the letter to you. I believe you'll have a better understanding." And Gibbs stood to leave.

Tony looked up to the older man, "Do you know what it says?"

Gibbs shook his head, "No, but I know what I'd write to my son in the same situation."

Tony nodded and stood up, following Gibbs as he walked to the door. Gibbs stopped and looked at the lieutenant. He started to speak but changed his mind. Instead Gibbs put his hand on Anthony's shoulder.

"I know right now you're a little unsure about everything. Suddenly, enemies appear to be friends; friends are no where to be found; and all the things in your life that you thought you could count on aren't there. You may find help in unusual places, DiNozzo. Just don't be too proud or too stubborn to ask."

And Gibbs left.

Tony turned back around and went into the small kitchen. Opening a couple of cupboards, he found the bottle he was looking for. Taking a glass from the shelf, he poured the whiskey straight and downed it. He poured a second shot and downed it as well. The third one he poured, he carried back to the table, with the bottle in his other hand, and began reading his father's words from the grave.

The will was straight forward. Everything that had belonged to Antonio DiNozzo, Sr was left to his only son. That consisted of the apartment and all its furnishings and the restaurant and everything in it. Tony was surprised to see that there was no debt owed on any of it. Mr. DiNozzo had a small bank account for the business that Cali kept meticulously. The statements were attached for his review. To the young Cali Gibbs, his father had left a small necklace. Tony had found it was still in the envelope with the will. He would see that his father's wishes were carried out.

The letter to Cali was interesting. In it, he left instructions that she was to manage the restaurant as she saw fit. She could hire and fire at her discretion provided Tony, as owner, approved. In Tony's absence, she was the defacto owner. Also in the letter, Tony's father had provided that, in the event something happened to the younger DiNozzo, the restaurant would become Cali's on her 24th birthday, provided Mr. Gibbs agreed. Apparently, Sheriff Gibbs knew about this because his signature and a small note indicated he accepted, with gratitude, the gift Mr. DiNozzo was giving his daughter. Anthony was not surprised. His father's greatest possession was that damned restaurant. He knew, if nothing else was taken care of, it would be.

He poured his fourth glass and finally decided he had nerve enough to read the letter from his father. The words swam before him but Tony knew it had nothing to do with the whiskey. In his father's broken English and sometimes, Italian interspersed, Tony read his father's words. He told Tony of the pride he felt in his son's accomplishments. He was honored to have a son who was a hero. While he hadn't liked the fact that Antonio had left, he had only done what the older DiNozzo had done years before. Left the family business, left his own father, to make a way in the world. Antonio, Sr knew this but he hated to see his only son leave just the same. He wished his son a long and happy life. A beautiful wife, like his mother had been, and many wonderful children, not unlike the wonderful son Antonio, Sr had. It was the last paragraph that had made Tony finally break. "The restaurant is yours. I have Cali keeping watch for you, to keep it prosperous, but ultimately, itsa yours. Keep it ifa you want. Sell it if it's you wish. You, Antonio, and your happiness and welfare are my only love, never the restaurant."

"Tony, why do you cry?" The dark haired woman had appeared as he finished reading the letter a second time.

"What took you so long?" Anthony's speech was finally slurred, the whiskey numbing his brain.

"There were other more important things, but you did not answer. Why do you cry?" She asked again.

"My father, it appears, loved me after all. He just never knew how to tell me."

"Seems to be a problem with DiNozzo men, yes?"

"Maybe," Tony put his head down on the desk, mumbling as he went to sleep, "Maybe so."

And the woman disappeared.