Thanks, everyone, for all the nice comments. I wrote this story as soon as I finished posting my last one, so that's about 4 weeks. I need a bit of a breather, but I'm blocking out a sequel to this story. As a couple of people have asked, you can read my fics at AO3 as well as here. Go to archiveofourown dot org and my name there is rose_malmaison.

CHAPTER 2

As soon as his soup was hot, Gibbs poured it into a bowl and brought it into the living room, along with a sandwich of thick-cut bread folded over slices of honey-baked ham. He put his dinner on the low table in front of the couch, flipped on the TV, and sat down, hoping to catch the basketball game. It looked like it was already in the third period, and his team was losing. The storm rattled the windows and occasionally the lights flickered, but they stayed on.

During a commercial break, Gibbs took his empty dishes into the kitchen and placed them in the sink. He took a fresh cup of black coffee back with him when he returned to the living room. Good thing coffee never kept him from sleeping soundly, he thought. A news update was on so he watched it with disinterest, not bothering to turn the volume up. Here at the farm, it felt as if he was cut off from the world, even though it was only a forty-minute drive to DC, but he liked it that way. He never had casual visitors; neighbors kept their distance, and apart from some horse-related folks, the only people Gibbs invited in were Abby, Ducky, and Palmer. He was too busy to be lonely, he told them – and himself – though sometimes in the middle of the night, he felt perhaps something was missing from his life.

Sitting back, relaxing and waiting for the game to resume, something on the screen caught Gibbs' eye. It took a few seconds without his glasses on to figure out which button was the volume.

A TV news reporter, Hank Conklin, who Gibbs recognized from his NCIS days, was standing in front of an upscale home on the outskirts of Baltimore, with a crowd in the background being kept at bay behind police barricades. "…been five days now, and still no substantial leads towards the kidnapping of the congressman. According to our sources, proof of life in the form of photographs has been provided every day except for today, and the family and friends of Congressman Anthony DiNozzo have grown quite concerned. FBI Special Agent Fornell, lead investigator, has refused to comment about any demands from the kidnappers, or whether or not the congressman is still alive. Congressman DiNozzo, representative of the 3rd district, has been a major force behind beefing up security at the Baltimore waterfront and promoting international commerce over his past three terms. Lately, he has been in the limelight for something else altogether. The Congressman has been vocal about his stance on gay rights, and is slated to speak about this issue on The People's Word this Friday night. Next week, he is scheduled to present the results of a study on the impact of current laws on the LGBT community at a Congressional task force meeting. At this time it is uncertain if…"

A picture appeared on the screen of a clean-cut, handsome man, about forty, impeccably dressed and smiling as if he hadn't a care in the world. Congressman Anthony DiNozzo Jr., the caption on the screen said, but Gibbs didn't need to see the caption. He recognized the congressman from the news. There'd been a debate on anti-terrorism on TV last year around election time, and he remembered DiNozzo for his right-to-the-point presentation on the importance of keeping the home front secure. DiNozzo had remained calm under fire, and had even scored some strong points, which had impressed Gibbs. At the time, he had wondered if the congressman would have risen so fast in politics if he hadn't been graced with good looks and what appeared to be genuine charm.

A moment later, Conklin had his microphone in the face of a well-dressed man in his mid-sixties, oozing charm and a little too much sincerity as he replied to an onslaught of questions. Gibbs pegged the guy as a slick politician, the kind of man he had avoided at all costs throughout his career. The opposite of Congressman DiNozzo, he thought.

Gibbs was startled to learn that the older man was the father of the missing congressman, none other than retired Senator Anthony DiNozzo, Sr. "Let me assure you, Hank, that although I applaud my son for standing up for the rights of these gays, he'd be better off focusing his political energy on the Sub-committee on Anti-Terrorism he's assigned to…"

Gibbs phone rang and he muted the volume while muttering, "Asshole." He picked up the phone – a landline because he didn't carry a cell phone any longer – and barked, "Yeah, Gibbs."

"Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!"

"Yeah, I know who I am, Abby. You don't have to keep on telling me," he joked.

"But I miss you! I miss saying your name."

Gibbs missed her, too, but he didn't say so. "You're coming over this weekend? Chevron needs some of your special care."

"Of course I'm coming, and I'm bringing Palmer. He says he'd be happy to look the horses over again."

"I told you, I already have a vet," Gibbs reminded her, although he wasn't about to turn down any free medical advice for the horses. Jimmy Palmer had worked for a large-animal veterinarian before he'd changed careers to pathology and moved to NCIS. He loved working with horses, and every few weeks he'd tag along to the farm with Abby. Gibbs grumbled, but he really didn't mind Palmer's company.

"But Jimmy's free, and he's so good with the horses…"

"All right, he can come. You don't happen to have a good mechanic to bring along, do you?"

"The truck acting up again?"

"Yeah. I can fix it. Just have to find the time. A guy from the service station's delivering a part in the morning." Gibbs needed to repair his only means of transportation as soon as he'd finished the morning chores and taken care of the horses. He was due to pick up a load of bales of wood shavings that he used for bedding material on top of the stall mats. He was almost out, although he could use hay as a backup.

Abby was asking about the horses, how they were doing, so Gibbs gave her a brief rundown on what he called 'the visitors.' He glanced at the TV as they wrapped up the news report. A minute later, the game was back on and he watched it with half an eye. His team was still trailing.

Abby filled him in on the latest news; now that Ziva had gone back to Israel, McGee had chosen Ellie Bishop to join the team; the 'Holy Rollers' bowling team was in the league finals, even without Sister Margaret Claire; Dornie was working with McGee on a cyber-case; and Palmer and Breena were expecting another child, "only Jimmy will tell you all about it tomorrow." Finally she said good night, and that she'd be there with Jimmy around 0900.

Gibbs turned off the TV and sat looking at the fire for a while, thinking about the horses and their needs. His mind kept drifting to the missing congressman when he should have been calculating feed costs. The congressman had been in the hands of the kidnappers for too long, according to Gibbs' experience. The poor guy was probably a goner. Fornell – Gibbs hadn't seen him since they'd had drinks at that Navy bar on the waterfront…God, that was months ago. He'd have to give him a call sometime.

Congressman DiNozzo… he might be a damn good-looking man, but he had to be stupid to get snatched like that, right off the street. Probably a pompous asshole like his father, the senator. No, that wasn't fair, Gibbs immediately told himself, although he wondered how DiNozzo Jr. had managed to remain a good guy while swimming with the political sharks.

He shook his head, forcing himself to stop thinking about the way DiNozzo Jr.'s eyes had been alight during that debate he'd seen. The man had known his stuff, and had – with politeness and humor – run rings around the other debaters. There was something about him, some spark of life that caught Gibbs' interest, and made him want to meet him in person.

Gibbs imagined what it would have been like if he'd met up with DiNozzo ten years ago. He would have checked out the guy's background, and probably would've enticed him to join his team at NCIS. But that was a lifetime ago, and these days, Gibbs had no time for dreaming. After a big gulp of now-cold coffee, he made a mental list of the chores that had to get done tomorrow, as well as the business he needed to conduct to ensure a healthy cash flow. There was a fund-raising dinner he'd promised to attend, and he wasn't about to let Moira down, not after everything she'd done for him.

Partway through the list, Gibbs' mind started to wander again to the news about the kidnapping. He couldn't help thinking about all the behind-the-scenes efforts that were being made to ensure the congressman's safe return. With Fornell on lead, Gibbs had no doubt they'd do their best for a good outcome, providing the kidnappers weren't total idiots with over-the-top demands of an ungodly amount of cash and a jet to an island without an extradition policy. It made him yearn to be working in law enforcement again, to dive deep into the fray, enjoy the unparalleled feeling of success when he broke a suspect during interrogation.

Gibbs sighed and rose to his feet to bank the fire that was still crackling in the hearth, planning to make an early night of it. As he was poking at the logs, he thought he heard something outside. He straightened up, listening. He was about to forget about it when he heard it again: a distinct knocking on his back door. It was unusual to have a visitor at this time of night, much less in a bad rainstorm. Gibbs wasn't unnerved enough to retrieve his handgun from its lockbox in the bookcase, but he was on guard when opening the door. The solar porch light was always alight, so he was able to immediately get a pretty good look at the man standing there. The guy had one hand raised, about to knock again, but when he saw Gibbs he lowered his hand and stepped back.

The man, who was about Gibbs' height and a good decade younger, was breathing hard, as if he'd run quite a distance. He wasn't wearing a coat, just running pants and a sweatshirt that was torn at the shoulder. He had to be soaked to the skin, the way the rain was coming down. It was hitting the roof hard, and the downspouts were gushing water across the lawn. It was cold out, in the fifties, and the man in front of Gibbs was hugging himself and shivering. His dark hair was plastered to his head, and his lips were tinged with blue. His eyes seemed big in his too-pale face – what Gibbs could see of it behind a week-old, scruffy beard.

Gibbs raised his voice over the noise of the heavy rain. "Yeah?" He was afraid he didn't sound too welcoming.

The man on the porch didn't retreat though. Instead, he stepped closer to Gibbs, and appealed, "I…I need your h-help."

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