Author's Note: Finals are finished...wee! Thought I'd post a new chapter, I know...this story has had more stops than continues, but what can I do? When it pours, it literally pours. Anyway, hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving. I also hope that everyone is staying safe this holiday season. Also, hope you like the chapter and if you do, then leave me a review. If you don't, well I guess you can leave me a review, too. I read all of them anyway. Later Days!-GEEK
Chapter 37: The Gathering
The sophisticated Donald Mallard places the fifth and final lit candle on top of the elegant dining room table. The flickering of the flames cast a warm glow along his face, softening the aged details of his face.
On a small cart with wheels, he grabs a hold of two wine bottles; one filled with its delightfully dark, red liquid and the other filled with its simplistically light, yellow-tinted liquid. Next he reaches for several bottles of water and places them in an empty spot somewhere on the large dining room table.
He glances at the grandfather clock and notices that his guests are indeed going to be late. Sighing, he silently prays for the best, then finds a seat in the living room; soaking in the comforting silence of his mother's estate.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
The sounds continue to repeat themselves as his guests continue to devour what is left on their plates. Dessert is nearing around the corner, but Ducky feels that each and every person that is seated at his table is not entitled to any dessert after behaving in such an foolish way.
They sit before him as a dysfunctional family who have grown into dysfunctional strangers. Their self-tortures and their miseries are theirs alone; locked away tight, seldom showing themselves if only a tiny bit.
His disgusted gaze is caught by McGee who officially takes the prize for showing his amount of honest nervousness completely on the exterior of his body.
"What are your taste buds telling you, Timothy?"
McGee raises his eyes at the oddness of Ducky's question, but is grateful for the introduction of words after nearly twenty minutes of silence.
"Well, Ducky, they are telling me that dinner wasn't half-bad." Ducky raises his eyebrows. "…I can't wait for dessert?"
Ducky loses whatever hope he has in McGee for the moment and switches his attention to Abby. With her eyes normally wide, she gives him a full smile without showing a spec of her teeth.
"I must say Abigail, you are wearing a delightful shade of red."
"Why thank you, Donald." She refrains from patting herself on the back. "Gibbs bought it for me for my last birthday."
"What'd he get you this year?" Tony mumbles from beside McGee.
"He hasn't." She says quickly, but smiles anyway. "I'm sure they'll be something waiting for me sooner or later…sooner?"
Gibbs only looks at her, then shoves some more mashed potatoes in his mouth.
Abby knits her eyebrows, but grins anyway. In seconds she is back picking at her vegetables.
Ducky feels the sinking in the pit of his stomach deepen, but he still has not given up the entire extent of hope.
"Perhaps something besides clothing, Jethro?" Ducky looks to his closest friend.
Gibbs shrugs, then places his fork on his plate. "Don't know, Duck. Maybe."
Abby nearly squeals with delight as a long list of endless possibilities begin to reel through her brain.
"I'm shocked he even knows how to shop for clothes." Tony mutters to McGee who shifts a little in his chair.
"Just because you aren't sitting next to me, doesn't mean I can't hear you, DiNozzo."
"It's not a bad thing. I guess I'm just curious."
"Well, don't be. It's none of your business. It isn't your birthday."
"Even if it was, you'd never buy me anything. You never have."
McGee shifts a little more, then flashes a look in Ducky's direction.
"That's because I can't figure out what to get the man who has everything."
"I don't have everything." Tony defends himself.
"If you don't own it, DiNozzo, then you've got it close enough in your reach to own it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You take pride in how you spend your money."
"You're not going to throw my stolen sports car in my face, again, are you?"
"I never threw it in your face one time."
"You found it hilarious. So did McGee-"
"Wait-"
"…and Kate. She found it hilarious, too."
"That's because it only served you right." Gibbs leans over his plate completely now to get a better look at him. "You had no business parking it in front of a college dorm room."
"I had every right to park it wherever I felt like parking it."
"So you paid the price. Someone stole it and you never did get it back. You saw your most precious thing give its last breath on a television screen."
Silence abruptly falls over each member of the team as the tension buzzes wildly.
"…Perhaps it is time for Dessert…" Ducky inwardly feels sheepish for giving in so quickly, but the fear of this gathering causing more harm than good to an already damaged team is enough to bring on the final meal of the evening. "Coffee or tea?"
Abby jumps out of her seat, "TEA!"
Ducky smiles at her excitement, but prepares himself for the rest of the answers that he is sure are soon to follow.
"Neither, Duck." Gibbs pushes himself away from the table and walks into the living room, in need of his own breathing and elbow room.
McGee stands as if on cue, and delightfully agrees to having the same as Abby. Abby smiles in approval, then sits down politely.
"Since I'm used to having everything, I might as well do what I can to help you clear this beautiful table, Ducky." Tony's tone drips with sweet sarcasm and an indescribable pain.
"That won't be necessary, Anthony."
"Oh, I think it is, Ducky."
Tony mentally scolds himself for having such an attitude towards Ducky, so he offers the softest smile he can muster and stands from his seat.
"What will you have to drink?"
"Nothing, Duck. I'm not up for Dessert." Tony catches the sadness in Abby's eyes, but shakes his head in order to give him strength.
"Alright." Ducky heavily sighs. "I suppose it is only the three of us, then."
"Suppose so…Ducky." Abby frowns.
McGee gives Ducky a pitiful look; serving no real help to Ducky or the team in any way.
Large feet reach the last step of the porch just as a voice calls out.
Ducky shuts his front door; the hat on his head and the trench coat hanging off his shoulders give him a classically distinguished look.
"Just a minute, Jethro."
Gibbs feels his insides squeeze with pressure as the voice inside his head screams for him to continue his footsteps.
"STOP!"
The older man leaves his mouth partly open as the seriousness of his tone even startles him himself.
The younger man places his foot back into the place with the other, but chooses to let the light breeze soothe his warm face instead of turning around and facing his friend.
"You were able to decline my dessert offer, but I will easily lose even more respect for you than I already have if you do not turn around and face me."
"Just getting some fresh air, Duck."
"This is more than fresh air, Jethro."
Gibbs inhales, "You're a host, be a host."
"The three adults inside are perfectly capable of entertaining themselves while they wait for my return." He begins to travel the distance between them. "Besides, I figured I would start with the one who started it all."
Gibbs whips around with a feverish finger nearly ready to jab his eldest friend. "I didn't start it. I never started this."
"For goodness sakes, Jethro, here we are again. When are you going to learn to let it go? When are you going to get past this?" Ducky shakes his head. "What is it that you feel you can not do if you were to?"
"You telling' me I'm scared?"
"I know you are scared." He pauses. "You are running scared. You have been for such a very, very…very long time."
"I don't run." He stiffens. "I don't get scared."
"Fine. I've known you long enough to take your word for it."
Gibbs turns around, ready to continue in the direction of a small walking path Ducky has within his mother's property.
"I am curious, though, Jethro…what is it that you do…if you are perfectly accurate with what you do not?"
Gibbs stops in his tracks; stiffening even more than before.
"There are three suffering people inside. One needs your shoulder to cry on. The other needs your shoulder to lean on. And the last…Anthony…needs one of your legs to stand on." He wait's a moment. "In the past you have gone above and beyond the call of duty not only within the field and to NCIS, but to your team. You have been their guide, and their mentor, their friend, their inspiration. Abigail fishes through every spec of evidence at a rate, at times, is not considered humanly possible just so she can receive a visit, a Caf-Pow, and a simple display of affection from you. Timothy longs for your direction knowing that the only way he can successfully feel as part of the team in the complete sense is to turn his nervousness into readiness, by working his fingers as fast as he possibly can when you point to him and demand he use his extreme knowledge of technology towards a heated case, and Jethro, he has gone beyond that already. He is so much more than a 'computer geek', he is the Agent which you took to Tel Aviv in hopes of retrieving those that got tangled up due to events that occurred…" He breathes in. "…and Anthony…Anthony needs the greatest help of all. His strength is in the form of humor and when events become too drastic and terrible, he fails. He fails because he can not muster any energy or any guts to use humor to mask his true feelings. This is not an insecurity issue or a little boy lost problem, Jethro. He is hurting because of what has happened-"
"He made a decision." Gibbs says with a shaky breath. "He went against me."
"Only because you weren't there to show him any means of support." Ducky understands his friend. "Think of it this way, Jethro, he went against you, but he went for the team."
Gibbs stands still; his back still facing his friend.
"He wanted her back…" He pauses for a moment. "…and he knew you wanted her back as well. We all did."
"If he were to have followed direct orders, he would have returned to the states with his hands clean. We all would have."
"He did follow direct orders. Time and time again you belittle the position of the Director due to, what I am sure, is bitterness left over from a love affair that ended long ago, when in fact you should be respecting her and following through to her orders."
Gibbs turns around with a lot on his mind.
"I respect her, but she played dirty."
"She got in over her head. It is not the first time and it will not be her last. Continuing to treat Anthony in the way you are doing because he directly chose to speak to the Director instead of you makes you intolerable."
"He should have come to me."
"Damn it, Jethro, you won't be here forever!" Ducky exclaims. "You can't expect everyone on your team to depend on your wisdom when it comes to their wants and needs-"
"That's not-"
"Trust, Jethro…trust doesn't only belong to you." Ducky waits for his words to sink in. "Anthony trusts the Director, too…whether you like it or not."
Gibbs stands still, unsure of what to say next.
"…and he has shown more maturity by continuing to respect her decisions as well as finding time to speak with her about what happened with Jeanne."
"Good. I'm just not cut out to play a love doctor." Gibbs mutters rudely.
"No, Jethro, but once upon a time you were cut out to try as anything for anything…respectfully for anyone who was worthy." Ducky puts his foot out to take a step closer, but refrains from doing so. "Now you're only capable of doing for yourself, and going about it angrily and unfairly."
Cold sweat clings to his body in the cool, but humid summer air. Ducky's words bite into his flesh and pain he has never felt before in so many parts of his body makes him ache and throb.
"…and until you, 'if' you, be the man I have always known you to be, you are no longer welcome in my good graces." Ducky frowns. "…because it hurts me to see who you choose to be more than it will ever hurt you." Taking a deep breath, he lets it outs slowly. "I would have enough strength to see you out, but we are already on the outside. Goodnight, Jethro."
Without another word, Ducky turns around and marches up his porch steps and leaves his troubled friend alone in the darkness and dust.