An interlude at Gibbs' house.

"Hey, Boss."

Gibbs looked up from the plans stretched out on his workbench.

"Hey," he replied before continuing to look at the papers.

"That your next project?" asked DiNozzo as he drew near.

"Hmm," said Gibbs.

"Looks like a boat," said Tony.

"Glad all those years working for the Navy have worked out," commented Gibbs drily.

Tony gritted his teeth and continued, "Looks like a big one. Gonna build it in the basement?"

"Hmm."

"So. Retirement, eh?" said Tony doggedly.

"Hmm."

"Bit of a surprise."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow as he looked up from the plans.

"I mean, I knew you were old. That is, nearing the age, not old. Just never expected you to actually do it, you know, retire."

"Thought I'd die with my boots on, did you?" asked Gibbs mildly.

"Yes. Not that I wanted you to die. Or want you to die. Well, you know that. Just didn't expect you to go quietly."

Gibbs shrugged.

"You're not sick, are you, Boss? I mean, that's not why you're going, is it?"

"Nope, I'm not sick."

"Good, that's a relief," Tony made a show of wiping his forehead. "Then why? Did Vance make you? 'Cos if he did, I reckon you could fight it."

Gibbs raised another expressive eyebrow.

"Course you could, Boss. Nothing you'd like better. Just saying. I'm sure Delores Bromstead could help. Not that you'd need help, of course. But, you know, if you did …"

Gibbs ran a finger over a line on the drawing, "don't need any help, DiNozzo."

"Then why?"

"Knees," offered Gibbs.

"Knees?"

"They feel older than the rest of me," said Gibbs.

"Oh," said Tony, "but you could still work for NCIS, couldn't you? You know, some sort of desk job?"

Tony encountered that eyebrow again.

"Maybe not. We'll miss you, Boss. I'll miss you. You taught me everything I know." A Gibbs stare prompted an amendment, "well, everything I know about the job. I guess there are things you didn't teach me."

"Didn't need to teach you much about the job, DiNozzo," said Gibbs, "you fit in pretty easily."

"It was fun, wasn't it?" said Tony reminiscently, "those days when it was just the two of us?"

"Fun?" asked Gibbs sceptically.

"OK, interesting," said Tony, "well, it was for me. Guess it might have been a bit old hat for you. Not that you're old, of course."

Tony's ramblings seemed to strike a chord with Gibbs and he smiled, "yeah. It was fun, Tony."

"Then why …?"

"It's time, Tony. Time for all of us. Me, Tim and you."

"I just can't imagine what it's going to be like without you," said Tony, "no glaring across the squad room, no head slaps, no two day old takeout in the bin, no unreasonable demands …" Tony looked up and saw a less than impressed look on Gibbs' face, "no incisive decision making, no expert questioning of witnesses, no masterful conclusions from the evidence," he added hastily.

"Better," approved Gibbs.

"I'm going to miss you, Boss. What am I going to do without you?"

"What do you want to do?" asked Gibbs.

Tony was surprised. It had been a rhetorical question to which he had not expected an answer.

"There's going to be a vacancy," said Gibbs, "you want to step up?"

"Can't see Vance giving me the job," said Tony.

Gibbs shrugged again, "Leon's a pragmatist. He'll choose the best person for the job."

"And you think that's me?"

"You've done it before," observed Gibbs, "Jenny thought you did a good job."

"Big shoes to fill," said Tony.

Gibbs looked down at his feet, "not so big," he said.

"People would be making comparisons all the time," said Tony. "There's a lot to live up to. Following a legend."

"I'm not a legend," said Gibbs.

"Respectfully, Boss, you know you are."

"Always thought you were hanging on to take over from me," said Gibbs.

"That's what I thought too," said Tony.

"And now? You want to do sterling work somewhere else?"

Tony looked at Gibbs suspiciously but didn't rise to the bait, "McGee is traumatised, you know. Had to take him to a bar last night and let him steal my fries."

"Traumatised?" queried Gibbs.

"He's sensitive, Boss. Doesn't like change. Can't make it compute. He'll be lost without you."

"You mean I've had an agent on my team all these years who's so insecure he can't handle change?" demanded Gibbs.

"Well …" temporised Tony.

"Doesn't say much for my qualities as leader, does it?" demanded Gibbs.

"I wouldn't say that …"

"Perhaps it is time I went."

"OK," said Tony, "perhaps I exaggerated a tad."

"You think?"

"All right, I admit it. But, Boss, we will miss you."

"You've said."

"Gibbs, did you really think we wouldn't care? I'm not kidding, McGee was in a real spin last night. Needed a lot of bringing down."

"And you were there to do it, Tony. You've always been there to do it, to take one for the team."

"You saying I should go for your job?"

"What does it matter what I think, DiNozzo?"

"Hard to break the habit, Boss. What you think has mattered for a long time. It's kinda hard to break free of that."

"Perhaps it's time to."

"I guess it's what people expect," said Tony thoughtfully.

"Don't do it because you think it's what people expect. What I expect. Do it because you want to or don't do it at all."

"You mean stay as I am?"

"What you want, Tony. Do what you want, that's what I'm saying."

"Didn't you just tell me that it doesn't matter what you think?" said Tony cheekily.

"Just because I'm retiring doesn't mean I can't still head slap you," said Gibbs.

"Hey," said Tony in sudden alarm, "you're not going to Mexico again, are you?"

"Nothing for me there," said Gibbs, "no, I'm staying put."

"Good," said Tony, "I'd miss having a basement where I could come to be grunted at."

"Go home, DiNozzo," said Gibbs, "I've got a boat to start building."

"And a leaving party to get ready for," said Tony.

"DiNozzo …"

"You have met Abby Scuito, haven't you? Forensic scientist and party organizer extraordinaire? You really think she's not going to throw the party of the century?"

"Go," ordered Gibbs, "we've still got work on Monday."

"OK, Boss," said Tony. He got to the foot of the stairs and turned back, "Sterling work?" he queried.

"Go," said Gibbs with a wave of his hand.

NCISNCIS

Shortly afterwards Gibbs went upstairs to get a refill of coffee. As he stood at the sink he heard a gentle tap at his door; he looked up to see McGee standing in his hallway. Gibbs gave a half smile as he realised that McGee was one of the few people who hadn't been for a heart to heart in his basement.

"Coffee, Tim?" he asked.

"Er, sure, Boss," said Tim calculating that, as it was early afternoon, there was plenty of time for the caffeine to leave his system before bed time.

Gibbs nodded towards the kitchen table and Tim took a seat a little nervously.

"Uh, Boss," he said, "Did you mean what you said yesterday? You know, about retiring?"

Gibbs' eyebrows were getting a workout that day.

"Of course," said McGee hastily, "you never say things you don't mean. I guess that means you're retiring?"

Gibbs took a gulp of his coffee in a confirmatory sort of way.

"It wasn't a joke?" said McGee weakly.

McGee took a moment to realise that Gibbs' coffee sips were as eloquent as his eyebrows. "Of course not." He sipped at his coffee. "You're not sick, are you, Boss?"

Gibbs couldn't help but think it would have been more efficient if Tony and Tim had come together. He sighed and said,

"Knees."

Tim looked puzzled for a moment but the instinct to obey was still strong and he lowered himself to the floor.

"What the hell you doing?" asked Gibbs in shock.

"I don't know, Boss. I'm doing what you told me."

"Knees, McGee. My knees. They're getting old."

"Oh, knees," said Tim, "oh, I see." He got to his feet but resisted the temptation to brush the knees of his pants in case Gibbs took it as casting aspersions on the standard of his housekeeping. "Sorry, Boss. Sorry, I mean, not sorry. Just … it's just that I misunderstood."

"It's OK, Tim," said Gibbs, "quick reactions like that could save your life in the field."

Tim looked happy at the compliment and Gibbs was pleased that he hadn't completed his thought by saying and make you look a complete idiot anywhere else.

"We'll miss you, Boss," said Tim, "and I don't know what Tony will do without you."

Gibbs had finished his coffee so had to rely on his eyebrows to do the talking for him.

"Had to take him to a bar to calm down," Tim observed, "I stole his fries but even that didn't snap him out of his funk."

"You had his six," said Gibbs with a straight face.

"Try to, Boss, I try to," said McGee sincerely.

"Good job, McGee."

"It won't be the same without you, Boss," said McGee.

Gibbs shrugged; there wasn't much to say about that.

"Do you think Tony will take your place?"

The eyebrow twitched.

"Not that anyone could take your place, Boss," said McGee hastily, "I didn't mean that. You're irreplaceable."

"Nobody's irreplaceable," said Gibbs, "and certainly not me."

"It's not going to be the same," said Tim.

"Change can be good," said Gibbs.

"Are you feeling all right, Boss?"

"What?"

"Well, you know, I just didn't think you were much of a fan of change."

"I can change," protested Gibbs, "when it's necessary."

McGee nodded, manfully suppressing comments about Gibbs' devotion to his old cell, his refusal to use power tools and his incomprehension when presented with an IPod.

"Still, it won't be the same."

Gibbs wondered why he had never before noticed McGee's tendency to repeat himself, "so you said."

"Do you think the Director will give Tony the job?"

"What job?"

"Your job. I mean, not your job but the job of … well, the job you're doing at the moment."

"Don't know," said Gibbs, "don't know if DiNozzo will apply for it."

"Of course he'll apply for it," said Tim, "it's what he's been waiting for, isn't it? I mean, he hasn't been waiting for you to go. He's not glad you're going. That's to say …"

Unusually, Gibbs showed mercy, "I know what you mean Tim. I'm just saying. Don't assume Tony's going to apply for the job."

"But … but … that would mean someone else would get the job," said Tim.

Gibbs wondered if he should make a plate of fries for McGee to steal so he would calm down.

"So?"

"But then it wouldn't be you or him," said Tim worriedly.

"You could apply," pointed out Gibbs.

"Me?"

Gibbs went to the cupboard and produced a cookie jar. He opened it and placed it on the table in front of McGee. Tim began feverishly to empty the jar and arrange the contents in a pattern.

"Do you think I could do it?" he said wonderingly.

"Doesn't matter what I think," said Gibbs with a feeling of déjà vu.

"Uh, Boss, it's going to take a while before that sinks in. It's sort of a habit to do what you think."

"Times change," said Gibbs kindly.

"Do you really think Tony's not going to apply for your job, I mean, the job?"

"Talk to him," advised Gibbs, getting up to return to the basement.

McGee's mouth fell open in astonishment at Gibbs recommending talking to someone.

"Yes, Boss," he said.

"And clear up this mess before you go," ordered Gibbs, pointing to the mess of cookie crumbs on the table.

"Yes, Boss," said Tim, "yes, Boss ..."