Two months had passed since hospital-gate. Eight weeks that had more packed into them than could be considered decent. As he walked across the familiar floor, he was reminded of the last time he walked across it with news that was life-altering, in the context of their small blip on the universe. The same creaking sounds from the same mottled floorboards announced his entry. Slipping down the basement stairs two at a time, he rolled his eyes in exasperated amusement at the familiar, but prohibited, sight.

"Didn't Dr Mensen give specific orders against manual labour for another month?"

Straightening up with a staining cloth in his hand, Gibbs gave a small shrug.

"Staining wood isn't manual labour. It's therapy. Some people think I need it."

Tony grinned, the envelope in his hand weighing as heavy as its predecessor had done.

"No arguments here. New boat?"

Shaking his head and throwing down the cloth, Gibbs sighed.

"Naw. Too much work these days. It's just a shelving unit, one upstairs gone skewed."

Hoisting himself up on the workbench, Tony was silent for a moment. Unsure how to broach the weighty subject he had come to discuss. His eyes flickered to the spot where he and the man in front of him had come to physical blows, mere months earlier. His eyes fluttered shut. The rate and expanse of change was sometimes boggling to him. But, it felt right to be where he was. Not right in the way it had once done, but right enough nonetheless. Knowing that the best way to get it over and done with was to just spit it out, he opened his mouth. But Gibbs, being Gibbs, got there first.

"Something I want to talk to you about, Tony. I'm glad you dropped by."

Pouring each of them a mason jar of…iced tea, he grimaced as he held one out to his former SFA.

"Just close your eyes and pretend it's bourbon. It's what I do."

Wrinkling his nose in distaste at the deceptively amber liquid, Tony decided to let it warm up a little.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked curiously, "Is everything ok? Medically?"

Nodding immediately, the elder of the two leaned his back against the work bench, side by side with the younger man and took on a hue of pensiveness.

"The medical business is great. I'm doing better than they thought. Everything's working the way it oughta. My latest bloods came back clear. Some other mumbo jumbo than I didn't really understand, but Dr Mensen was smiling like a circus clown so I'm assuming it's all good. Gotta keep on the different medications for a while and see where we go from there."

Throwing his eyes up to heaven, Tony smiled his relief but arched a brow in increasing curiosity.

Gibbs looked down at the floor, swirling his iced tea mindlessly.

"I'm retiring my post at NCIS, Tony. Getting out of the game. I'm too old and I'm too tired. Can't do it anymore. It's a young man's game. Changing world out there and I don't want to keep up with it no more. I can't. So there's an SSA opening ripe for the taking. Tim would move to SFA, Bishop would move to JFA. There'd be room for another probie. Leon wanted my input on who should replace me. I told him I needed to consult someone before I gave him my answer."

He looked to the side and raised a brow.

"So, I'm consulting you. What do you reckon?"

Tony blinked in shock. All throughout Gibbs' recuperation, getting back to the job was all that had seemed to keep him going. And now, he was retiring? Just matter-of-factly letting him know that his job, the same job that had basically torn them apart, was there if he wanted it? He chewed his words carefully for a moment, before speaking quietly.

"I don't understand?"

Gibbs knocked back some iced tea, made a face at it and sighed.

"I don't have it in me anymore. I thought I did. I thought I could get better after the operation and get right back to it. But the more and more I think about it, the more and more that seems like the wrong decision." He looked his former SiC straight in the face and quirked a brow. "You gave me a part of your liver, a piece of your vital organs to live, Tony. What would I be saying about that if I went straight back to a job where people shot at me the same as they say hello to me?" He shook his head, a distant look crossing his face. "I wanted to die for the longest time. Now, I'm starting to find the will to live again. Being an active agent at my age, doesn't really gel all that well with that."

Tony stared.

"So you're just going to retire and sit around all day and mope?"

"No," laughed Gibbs quietly, "I'm retiring my post as SSA. I'm no longer cleared or willing to be in the field. But I, believe it or not, am going to become one of those assholes in fancy offices I've always hated. I'll do consultant work. I don't have any real financial responsibilities to speak of. I don't need money. So it'll work out nicely for me. Something to do without the commitment of a full time, dangerous job. But still having an input."

Silence swept through the basement as Tony considered this.

"That's not a bad idea," he concluded eventually, "That's not a bad idea at all."

Gibbs nodded.

"I'm glad you agree. So, what do you think about the SSA gig? Interested?"

The envelope suddenly weighed heavily in Tony's hands again. He turned it over, staring down at it. SSA…back to his old team, except this time, the lead. The permanent lead. No longer under Gibbs' shadow, no threat of him returning to take back the mantle. Was he interested? He couldn't say that he wasn't. He stared down at the envelope once more, his mind whirring. This wasn't the way he had predicted the conversation going. Gibbs had thrown him for somewhat of a loop. Closing his eyes, he searched for his gut instinct. He found it. He relied upon it and decided then and there to follow it. It had never let him down before.

"No," he said quietly, "I need to keep NCIS in my past. Need to keep that chapter closed, Gibbs."

The elder man nodded, his brow furrowed.

"Thought you'd say that. Is it because of me?"

It would be easy to lie, but the truth was something he'd learned to be the most preferable.

"A large part, yeah. There's memories there that I'd rather not have to look at every day. Even if I took that job as SSA and you weren't around anymore, I'd still be compared to you. I'd still be Gibbs' replacement, not an Agent in my own right. I'd still be under your shadow. My ways would always be compared to your ways. I'm done with that. But if you're still looking for my recommendation, you and I both know Tim is ready for SSA. Bishop's not SFA material yet, but she's not far off. Bridge the gap with another seasoned Agent and another probie and that team will be one of the best MCRT's that NCIS has ever had."

Gibbs smiled a rare smile.

"You were folder one for Leon. Your recommendations are in folder two. I'll see he gets the latter."

He gestured to the envelope in Tony's hands.

"I take it that's what you wanted to talk to me about?"

Glancing down at the paper once more, the younger man nodded and didn't beat around the bush.

"I've enjoyed working with Vice, cutting my teeth as team-lead. It's been good. They're good people and they do good work. But I've been offered a permanent agent-in-charge position with a special ops force of the CIA. Mostly long term undercover work. Large scale infiltrations and secondments to see the case through to legal. They're based out of a purpose-built branch in Michigan. Lots of travel involved. They gave me a week to consider and I sent my acceptance by courier today. I'm taking it. The only catch is, they need me right away. Vice is ok with me breaking out early, there's always someone waiting in the wings for a promotion. So…I leave for Michigan tonight."

Gibbs said nothing for the longest moment before breaking into a wide smile.

"The CIA huh? Well, I'll be damned. That's one hell of an achievement, you should be proud."

Tony searched his face for any signs of subterfuge, sarcasm or snark.

He found none.

"Thank you," he said quietly, "I am proud. It'll be a new start for me, something different."

Gibbs nodded before a sense of awkwardness overtook him.

"So, this is goodbye then?"

Tony opened his mouth uncertainly, but Gibbs realised he wasn't done.

"I need to thank you properly. Before you go. I know I've said it before, but I need to say it again. Thank you, Tony. Even thought I was a bitter bastard to you for the longest time, you were still on my six when you should have done a runner long ago. If it wasn't for you, I'd be dead now. I don't deserve it, never did. But you stuck it out anyway cos' that's just the kind of man you are. I know things ain't the same between us as they were and I know who to blame, but I still thank god for the day you knocked me on my ass in Baltimore. If you hadn't, I wouldn't like to think what my life would've been like."

His mouth swinging open, Tony stared at his former commanding Agent with shock.

"Jesus Christ….that shrink you're seeing must be worth her weight in gold."

Gibbs threw back his head and laughed as he hadn't laughed in years.

"She is," he admitted, "She's got the patience of a saint. I'll say that for her."

Tony grinned and hopped down from the workbench, realising that the basement he stood in represented the beginning, middle and now the end of his relationship with the enigma that was Leroy-Jethro Gibbs. He held out his hand to the elder man, raising a brow and clearing his throat.

"Despite the ups and downs, thank you for the last thirteen years, Boss."

Gibbs looked at the hand and shook his head.

Knocking it away, he pulled his former SiC into a brief hug, speaking quietly.

"Ain't your boss anymore. You're the boss now."

Breaking away with a grin, Tony nodded slowly.

"Guess I am."

The two considered each other for a moment, before the younger man spoke before he could help himself.

"You know, I have frequent flier miles I could give you. Michigan isn't that bad of a flight away. If you wanted, I mean. Be cool to see you now and again I suppose. If you've nothing better to do."

Gibbs threw down some ice tea.

"There's some good fishing up there. I could do with a new spot to vacation. Being semi-retired and all."

Tony arched a brow, a smile playing about his lips.

"You just make sure you don't overstay your welcome."

Gibbs cocked his head to the side, the eyes that had once burned with loathing and misery beginning to sparkle with warmth and humour once more.

"You have my word, Tony. I'll do better this time."

…..

A/N: Fin! Thanks for everything, guys! I chose not to let Tony stay at NCIS and force him to move on, but I wanted his and Gibbs' relationship to have the chance at repair. That's why they've been left the way they are, not fully healed but not completely broken!

Inks x

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