Hi Julia: I actually do use the double dashes, but for some reason is making a lot of them into "one" dash instead of two ever since a few months ago. At first I thought it was my error alone, but when I go back to check in my chapters, both dashes are there. I write in Microsoft Works, not Word (because I just like it better), and maybe that's what isn't agreeing with suddenly? Sorry if it irks you, but it irks me too.
Something else that never works for me on either my PC or my MAC is the "underline" feature. I wanted all my chapter titles to be "underlined" and no matter how many times I click it and it shows up, when I save the file and I go into the fic link and read, it is never there. If the "line breaks" start acting up, I don't know what I'll do-because I LIVE for line breaks!
Thank you for your kind words as well. There's some days where I am like, "How the hell are they all going to get past this?" I never thought it would go this far...but that's what happens when I try to be slick. Oh sure, let DiNozzo work as a double Agent, Keep McGee in the dark, have Gibbs try to handle everything on his own, in a complete "silent" way, make Ziva angry and unreasonable-make them all turn their backs on each other and get two-faced about each and everything thing...and then I go, "Oh shit...the team is really in a lot of deep shit!"
You are correct though. I could never just make things right between Gibbs and Ziva without a lot of twists and turns.
Hi SherryGabs: I swear every time I see your name I keep saying Sherry "Gibbs". Shows you how much I can't get that man out of my head even if I tried, ha! Thankyou very much for your kind words. I can settle with "flare for drama"-but even sometimes when I read back on the chapters I get exhausted-I'm like how in the hell did I write all of this?
Hi Abstractartist: It's a very tough situation. I find it extremely hard at times, especially now to try to find a way to get them to speak kindly to one another. A single word can set either one of them completely off-and they aren't themselves now more-so than before. Gibbs is dealing with just getting out of the hospital-coping with the reality that he in-fact was saved from Mossad-and able to live. Ziva's father and husband are now dead-though they did her wrong, there's still memories she is dealing with. They're both so uptight about their own problems.
It's a tricky situation. As I said, chapters are becoming more difficult for me to finish entirely in an hour or so. I spend days or weeks thinking about where to go next because it is such a critical point right now. In the beginning each had their own worlds, but now...they're back together again. Crowding each other in DC like it's nobody's business but their own.
And as you said, there is the option to just walk away-Ziva can do exactly what she wants now, but there's just more to it-and there's more to Gibbs, but they're both stubborn as all hell-and they're both tired.
Your reviews are really in-depth, too. I really was shocked the first time I got a review from you. I said, check it out...this fan has got A LOT to say...I LOVE IT.
Hi Ajordan11: Good to see ya enjoying the fic and thanks for your kind words.
Hi Jess: Thanks for your kind words and I hope I do not disappoint.
Hi Xandra76: I'm glad this fic leaves a "big impression hours after reading it". I never in my wildest dreams thought that after completing only two fics for NCIS, I would ever amount to something like this series.
HEY Zivacentric!: You and I? Oh...we go way back...waaaaaay back...okay so it's not really THAT far back, but we still go way back. I know the shipper in you is probably DYING every time you read a new chapter-but you DO read the new chapters and I know you are "hopeful" while reading-and having hope means a whole hell of a lot to me-and I can sense that as I write.
Since I met you, you've been down with WATT and CO-and that's seriously a great recognition in my opinion.
***Oh-and I just got an email from my buddy and it just so happens that "Healing" by Zivacentric & "Fairytale Nightmare" by CSIGurlie28 both one for the Gibbs/Ziva category. Zivacentric for "Best Romance" and CSIGurlie28 for "Best Other". I nominated them both and I am extremely happy that they both walked away as winners. Lets give them both THREE cheers, shall we? Great job guys!***
NOW, on to the newest chapter-I hope each and every reader enjoys themselves. Later Days-GEEK (Sabrina).
Chapter 29: The Greatest Finale
The wreckage downstairs made an impression on him like never before. Suddenly the limp boards that were pierced with nails served as a reflection of himself for the very first time. Their bodies so sturdy, yet their insides so agonized with each and every sharpened nail that settled within their contents-within their own DNA.
Even the empty bottles of bourbon he had drained the night before his decision to order McGee to travel the distance to Tel Aviv, glistened with his reflection as they all lay limp on and around his work table. The last droplet of tarnished liquid, if there were any, already evaporated and dried into the air making his basement hold such a sour stench.
The whole placed reeked of his tortured soul regardless of Abby skipping in and out of his home for a couple of weeks. Everything had been the way he left it-the way he wanted people to remember him; lonely, bitter, and broken-so they could hold a private ceremony and honor him in the shadows. So his Italian Agent could pick up where he left off and give the team exactly what they needed; a leader with strong shoulders, a wicked sense of humor, and the kindest hand anyone carrying a gun could ever muster.
Instead his Italian Agent murdered the Director of Mossad in an effort to protect a former Agent while he fought for his life inside a torture chamber he had only seen while serving; while his tech-savvy Agent sat quietly and alone somewhere he never did find out about.
Coming back had not been his plan; trading his life for three of his own had been his only vision as he boarded the plane to Tel Aviv.
The morning is brisk, but its abruptness is welcoming. The thunderstorm from the night before is silently thanked as employees of the Federal building rush to their desks. It is seven a.m.; the usual start for thousands of people all across the country, but there are two Agents that try their bests to fight through the smog that has settled over their squad room.
Dropping his backpack on the floor beside the inside of his desk, Agent DiNozzo looks as formal as a newbie. His hair settles in a constructed pattern on-top of his delicate head while even the fine hairs at the back of his neck seem to have joined hands and are bending in the same direction. His shirt collar is buttoned; a conservative tie present underneath it. His shoes glow with whatever product he must have used the night before.
McGee ignores his partner, having seen his choice in clothing for the day at the foot of the elevator inside the lobby, and finds his desk. Gripping the back of his chair, he sits in it correctly with his feet resting under the table top. Instantly, he pulls out his cell phone and begins to unravel the charger wire that comes with it.
"No electricity in your Geek Cave, McGee?" Tony jokes with a thin-lipped, neutral face.
McGee ignores his questions, knowing that the look on his face indicates that he does not want or need an answer; it is only a way to help himself along with the consequences he must face.
Hooking the his cellular phone to the charger cable, he tries to keep his eyes away from the empty desk of their Team Leader.
"Think he'll be back?" Tony asks what McGee does not want to address.
McGee ignores his partner once again, but Tony's eyes continue to wander.
"Justine's gone, too." He looks at her desk. "Too much dysfunction in this group, don't you think?"
"Tony, shut up." McGee finally voices himself. "It's too early to...bother with all of this."
"There'll be more mornings to come." He grips him with his deep stare. "More hours, days, weeks, months...Agents..." He shakes his head as his eyes slip closed.
McGee holds his breath; afraid to speak.
Opening his eyes, Tony finds his seat and powers on his computer. After several minutes, he stops using the machine in front of him so he can fold his arms and think to himself. His position does not go unseen by McGee, but it also is not enough to have McGee get too nervous; although in time seeing how his eyes travel around their base, he soon begins to act in the same way as his partner.
"What are you doing, McGee?" Tony asks quietly, his eyes never stopping their parade around their offices.
"Trying my best to fight off the chill." He answers truthfully; his gaze quickly falling on Tony. "...what about you?"
"Trying my best to remember the warmth." His answer makes a sinking feeling in the pit of McGee's stomach. "...foolish of me?"
"I...don't know, Tony." McGee harbors on the edge; needing to find a way to respectfully deal with everything without crashing on the shores of somebody else's beach.
"You don't know?" Tony finds intrigue in this. "Tell me what you do know."
"That we're in trouble...well, that's a given."
As soon as he feels the urge to turn around and take a glance above him, to the Director's usual standing position, he notices an army of unfamiliar faces rushing towards his general direction.
Before McGee can stand, he is ordered to stay seated by the leader of the pack. He rubs at the arms of his chair; his nerves bubbling over as if acid was thrown on top of them.
"Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo?" His question more like a statement than an actual question. "Come with us."
McGee watches as Tony stands and literally walks right into their hands. The scene in front of him whacks him full-on in the face, causing his nose to feel heavy and swollen as if he was punched directly in the nose. Standing then, he ignores the evil stare from the same man that told him to stay seated. "What's this about?"
"Not that it is any of your business, but Special Agent DiNozzo is being held for the murder of Eli David, Director of Mossad."
"It was self-defense." His chest surprisingly puffs out a bit and his shoulders grow more pointed.
"Leave that to the judge."
"Does the Director of NCIS know about this?" McGee scolds himself on his voice growing higher and out of tune.
"I do, Agent McGee." Turning around, he watches his superior stand as still as the human body will allow. "This has to happen."
"She's right Probie...I haven't got a choice this time..." Tony tells him carefully instead fishing for a joke in the whole situation. "This isn't a Frame-Up this time...this is real." He shrugs helplessly. "I killed the Director of Mossad...out of self-defense and now I have to go before a judge."
"Does Gibbs know about this?"
"Nothing slips past his radar." Tony mentions.
Holding his tongue, McGee fights for something else to say.
"If the farewell party is over..." The man says coldly. "I'd like to get on with it."
Jenny Shepard looks deeply into Tony's eyes; wanting him to understand her position as much as she understands his. Turning away from her, he lets a man handle him properly over to the elevator.
"What's this going to do to the team?" McGee finally is able to form words again; the realization rattling him on the inside, but not enough to encourage a major set-back in his ambition to find his strength.
The fire-haired Director keeps her lips stiff and thin; wanting to disappear from the moment with the click of her heels.
"Director?" McGee pushes; his patience growing as thin as Gibbs', if he had been a part of this dramatic scene.
She closes her eyes and gathers her thoughts. They are not specifically sorted as they should be, but they are in enough order to keep her grounded.
"Reassignments, McGee." A loud sigh escapes her.
His eyes widen, but he does not speak.
"I tried..." Her voice small. "I tried to do the best I could...for Tony...for Gibbs...for the team."
"I don't like this, Director."
"But you are to accept it, McGee." Stepping away from him, she lingers in the squad room with her back to him. "We all must."
The brim of his old-fashioned hat goes with the rest of his dapper attire as he makes an entrance through a front door that never once could be accounted for as being locked. Calling out his friends name, he agrees to the silence that greets him, but proceeds with great ease and a clear knowledge for where his friend has fled.
Inside the basement of the basic house, Gibbs rests with his elbows pushing against the top of his work bench; a bottle of bourbon uncapped and a mason jaw full to the rim.
"Something tells me you are going to need a straw for that." Ducky stands at the top of the stairs.
"Don't think I got any of those, Duck."
"Then split that drink with a dear friend."
Gibbs' bottom lip pushes forth a little as he knits his eyebrows. Grabbing another mason jar, he empties its contents and turns the bottle of bourbon upside down over it.
Laying his trench on a piece of wood that is sticking out from the wreckage, Ducky scolds his friend for doing what he did not ask.
"I said to share, Jethro."
"I need all of it." Gibbs slurs just a smidge; his mind slightly intoxicated.
"All in a days work, I suppose..." The elderly man takes his first sip. "This is ever-most refreshing."
Gibbs lets him speak because he dreads the approaching moment where Ducky will turn serious and the days events will really start to make themselves heard; loud and very, very clear.
"I do not think I have ever known you to waste away in something other than this particular choice of drink." Gibbs inhales as he realizes Ducky is well on his way to poking at his nerves. "...because wasting away is what you are doing...again."
"It's my life."
"It is our lives." He turns and rests at an angle. "Life is only what you make it Jethro, and nothing more. Sitting around waiting for the rest of the pieces to crumble and fall amongst the ones already scattered across the floor will be the literal end." He catches his breath; his actions so involved with what he is saying. "The greatest finale, Jethro...lies in your hands."
His words make contact and leave Gibbs flustered, sweaty, and so deep in thought his hand grips his glass of bourbon tightly, the top layer of liquid splashing out over the top of the glass and wetting his hand.
"Just look at yourself-" Ducky pushes. "Returning to old habits you managed to let die a year ago."
"That was before this." He hopes he is hitting a nerve in his partner. "...that was before DiNozzo took a shot for me."
"You train your people to react as they should-to construct their uniqueness in a way they are able to use in each and every case your team investigates. Anthony took what he learned and he used it the best to his knowledge."
"Doesn't mean I'm gonna feel good about the fact he's being held by Mossad for taking the life of Director David." His words are bitter and direct. "They're gonna tear him apart in there, Duck! They're gonna...take him away from NCIS..." After his voice cracks, he takes a sip from his glass. "Aw hell...they've already got him...and Jenny? She's got the rest of 'em."
Ducky shakes his head. "Her position is at stake, Jethro...she can not play hardball in the way that you can. She isn't allowed."
"Christ." Gibbs breath is rough and tired.
"There is a power in time...the time in power itself." Resting a hand on the back of his disgruntled friend, he speaks delicately to him. "You are the only one that holds the power, who has the time, to use it wisely." He waits for a few seconds. "Your team is waiting for you, Jethro."
The Marine nods, knowing his position in each of their lives, but fearing rejection or worst from them. "Don't know where to begin..." He shrugs; looking so uncharacteristically vulnerable.
Ducky's eyes glisten; the sourness inside the basement still lingers. "Return to the one that started it all." He keeps his hand steady as he can while resting on the younger man's back. "...the one you are trying to love."
The four letter word makes his breath catch in his throat, making him clear his throat loudly. "Duck, I don't-"
"Call it what you will, Jethro..." Ducky begins to stand and removes his hand from his shoulder. "...but there is something there between Ziva and yourself." Grabbing his trench coat from the wood, he travels up the stairs and lingers at the top. "...and she knows it, too."