An Eye for an Eye Leaves Everybody Blind

by SASundance

Can there ever be a justification for choosing revenge over justice, especially when you work for a federal law enforcement agency? This is an AU Aliyah story and NB that this is not a TIVA story. Warning, contains a major character death - for more info on the identity please see author's note in chapter 1 Now Complete

23. Chapter 23: Finding Happiness

Warning: If you've gotten this far it is probably unnecessary but here goes anyway. There are two deaths in the epilogue and they are of a major and a minor recurring cast member. The minor cast member's death is mentioned in part one (this chapter) while the major death will become apparent by the end of part one but not occur until the final chapter.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed and favourited the last chapter. I was surprised at how many people wanted to read this story all the way to the end. I was a little shocked too - I half expected I might receive a few death threats lol for daring to send Gibbs to Leavenworth.

I guess I should also apologise in advance to any individuals who happen to be called Saffron, Princess, Tippy or Charisma. On the subject of names, just briefly I wanted to mention that sometimes naming character can be a bit of a chore but if anyone realises that there is a rather large coincidence to do with names in this story, then let me assure you it was deliberate. Anyone eagle eyed enough to spot it gets immortalised in the second part of the epilogue. Hope you enjoy it.

An Eye for an Eye Leaves Everybody Blind

Part One Epilogue: Eight Years Later

Tony headed home early. It was one of the perks of the job as the boss. And family came first – it always would!

Sometimes he needed to be away from home for days at a time and he really missed his family and hated that aspect of his job. Even though he knew that his business - Everyone Matters Investigative Services or EMIS for short, was probably the most important work he'd ever done - with the rather notable exception of his kids of course.

When he'd made the decision to return with his friends, no his family to LA, everyone bar Ducky had been shocked. Even Mike and the gang were surprised, pleasantly surprised of course – but still they'd been caught off guard, nonetheless. They, like everyone else had expected him to stay in DC and simply resume his old life as a federal agent. Yet returning to LA with Mike and the gang really was a no-brainer – he'd fit in with them effortlessly while in Los Angeles. He'd never truly fit in at NCIS, except for a couple of years when it had just been him and Gibbs and sometimes TADs who passed through their team with astonishing regularity.

Ducky had attempted to explain it to the DC crowd… his friends certainly - but not his family as he'd once thought of them as. Tony knew better now with the benefit of hindsight… knew what the difference between friends and family truly was and it was huge. Knowledge that had come at a considerable cost and he was never going to make that mistake again.

The about-to-be-retired ME had tried to make it clear to everyone in DC that apart from the forging of new friendships and renewal of much older ones, he'd also become far too independent to return. He'd gone solo as an investigator for too long to want be go back to being 2IC on a team. He'd worked amongst the discarded, the unwanted and the desperately afraid, all who found living on the streets, terrible as it was, to be preferable to what they were running from and Tony felt he made a difference. It wasn't something he could simple 'get over' and just go back to following someone else's lead should he decide to return. There was just too much water under the bridge.

Even if he'd been offered the role of lead agent of a team, Ducky averred he was way too gun-shy to trust in the administration of the agency, any agency or even a police bureaucracy. Tony knew his elderly friend was right …his more loose affiliation with PDs and individual law enforcement individuals worked much better for him as he endeavoured to solve crimes no one else was motivated to solve. Frankly, his solitary status served his new, more mistrustful, less forgiving disposition a lot better and while others may see it at as paranoia, Tony regarded it as nothing short of survival and self-preservation. All brought about by the betrayal he'd suffered from those above him in the food chain who were supposed to have his back.

So after he came back to LA – a surprisingly easy decision to make - and as the days turned into weeks, turned into months, he and Mike talked, surfed and worked retrieval cases at ERS. He lost himself in his music – bought a place so he could have a piano and write songs – he wrote one for his god-daughter, Jannali and meanwhile, slowly a plan evolved. Nothing would change and yet everything would change. He was no longer on the run – he was free to be Anthony DiNozzo again, although ironically, now he could be himself again, he found he really didn't want to be himself any more.

He ended up deciding to drop the DiNozzo and to simply become Anthony Daniel Paddington, not Junior, not a pale facsimile of the so called original Anthony DiNozzo but his own unique person and inferior to no one. Not perfect… very far from perfect but he refused to be compared to, or compete against anyone else any more. Not Cate, Ziva or McGee, not Gibbs and most definitely not his father – not in real life or even just in his head…especially in his head. He'd damn well earned that peace which eluded him for so many years.

Anthony DiNozzo Senior wasn't the 'real' anything - well maybe a real pain in the ass, but he was not worth tying himself in knots over. Not when by simply dropping a name – seven measly letters, Tony was forever absolved of any comparison with the guy every time he used his name. Life was too short, especially now he had a family that was way more important than his self-destructive ghosts.

Tony still worked with ERS when required but since they only accepted high profile and difficult i.e. dangerous retrievals, he still had plenty of time to take on his own investigations. Just like before and yet it was nothing like before. Mostly since he was out of the shadows and free to do what he did, without the need to hide or look over his shoulder constantly.

His ERS work, which was highly lucrative, helped fund the start-up costs for his new investigation consultancy. It also helped him maintain liquidity when times were tough and honestly, times were often tough initially, since the main purpose was to solve crimes for people who had no voice. These clients… the sex workers, the drug addicts, the angry, scarred, abused kids, the mentally ill, the homeless and the dispossessed veterans who ended up through lack of anything better, living on the streets, usually had few or no resources with which to pay him, apart from everlasting gratitude.

Since these people couldn't afford to pay him and he wouldn't have accepted their money anyway, and there were substantive overheads, Tony bore these costs personally. In much the same way that he'd done while he was pretending to be Gus Kaderson and hiding out from Eli David and his lackey Rivkin. Financially, it wasn't that much of a hardship since he now had access to his Tony DiNozzo bank accounts that had remained essentially untouched… apart from paying for Ron Sacks funeral ever since he had left the FBI safe house three years ago. A judicious investing by a financial advisor who his lawyer had hired, increased his assets rather a lot, so his finances were in pretty good shape and his business was slowly growing.

Slowly things began to transform – the first thing to change was that Police Departments rather than individuals within them, began seeking him out to solve crimes and they paid him consultancy fees and expenses. He never charged exorbitant fees since he knew that PDs always had budgetary constraints but still, every little bit helped and the legitimacy it brought with it, created unexpected dividends.

EMIS was soon being courted by the rich and powerful, the politically connected and motivated, offering him a great deal of money to help solve high profile cases. Sometimes the cases were cold but then there were active ones causing ambitious people embarrassment or blocking their upwardly mobile career trajectories…in other words… job promotions. Elected officials like DAs and Mayors, he even had the Secretary of the Navy (ironically) and the State Department courting him to investigate illegalities in their departments.

After much soul searching and discussion with his two silent partners in EMIS, Mike and Steve – well not so silent since if he needed his six watched and even when he didn't, they watched it – he'd decided to accept a limited number of these type of cases. They'd agreed that the plan was to hit up the rat bastards with healthy consultation fees to help finance his less profitable investigations and more deserving cases.

Which inevitably meant that he needed to hire more investigators since he couldn't do it all, nor did he want to. He'd already poached Ruby James from Mike's Bail Bond Agency or truth be told, she'd really persuaded him to hire her as his partner. She was an ex-cop and they'd worked well in the past when he was posing as Gus Kaderson and chasing down bail jumpers in LA. She'd also been a huge support to him during Gibbs trial eight years ago when he'd still been a real mess. They worked together even better now, but in taking on the high profile cases, he'd needed more hands on deck than just the two of them.

Gus had ended up coming out to the States to spend time with Mike and his family just over three years after his rescue from four years of false incarceration in a Filipino prison. He was finally clear of the drugs that he'd been addicted to for years, but it had been a real battle for a while. He had a couple of false starts before he managed to beat the addiction for good.

Then there had been the hurdle of trying to regain his memories with limited success since it was still rather piecemeal, although he'd been working with hypnotherapists, with some success. Plus there'd been his battle to control his seizures medically which had been frustrating for all of them, not just Gus. Finally, while he was in the States, Mike had persuaded him to consult with several top neurosurgeons who seemed optimistic about a surgical approach. After another 18 months dithering about letting them open up his head, he relented, going in for brain surgery but in the interim, he had ended up hanging around with Tony at his EMIS office.

Tony saw his wistfulness when they'd begin a new investigation and understood where Gus was coming from. He was a cop just like Tony and always would be. He might have retired from the Australian Federal Police force – mostly because his injuries had dictated that he couldn't do the job anymore but also because he didn't know who he could trust. It didn't take away the desire to be a cop though, and the vibe at Everyone Matters Investigative Services was always pretty hyper and addictive. Although Gus spent time with the guys from Elite Retrieval Services as well, since it was his brother's baby, it simply didn't jazz him the way it did when he was with Tony's investigators. He always felt at home there.

He gradually started to help out around the office, doing a lot of the digital investigating after Tony offered him a desk job one morning when they went for a beach run together. He was also unable to surf due to his seizures – another sore point since he'd grown up in the water. He and Mike had joined their local surf life-saving club down the road from their home as kids, becoming nippers, gaining their bronze medallions and going on to become part of the roster of lifesavers on the beach during the summer. Although Gus was a hands on undercover cop by nature, he'd still jumped at the chance to work in his chosen profession again, even if it was in the office.

So what had started out as a visit – really an attempt to find himself again when he came over to stay with Mile, ended up with Gus working for Tony and feeling like he belonged somewhere once more.

Tony more than anyone, understood how much Gus longed to be out in the field because if it had been himself, he would have missed the field work too. It would be like losing limb – always feeling an important part of himself was missing. Still, it was too dangerous to have Gus out in the field with his seizures not completely responsive to medication. It was what it was and the youngest Kaderson made the best of it.

Finally, after working with Tony and his team of investigators and riding a desk for several more years, eventually he decided to go in for surgery. It was a risk - over and above the whole 'having his skull opened up like a can opener and then getting bits of his brain scooped out' procedure. It was possible that even if successful in halting his seizures, it would only be a short term fix to the problem since there was a risk that new scar tissue could develop following the excising of the existing scar tissue.

In the end, the possibility of being able to work as a field investigator once again and also return to water activities such as swimming and surfing in the ocean as well as being able to drive a vehicle had proved too strong a lure. Everyone was hoping that luck would swing in his direction for a change. Fortunately the neurosurgeon had done an excellent job and no further scar tissue returned… so far.

Meanwhile a couple of former detectives he'd worked with in Baltimore, hearing he might be looking for investigators had approached him to ask if he had openings and he'd taken them on too. Then there was the Elite Retrieval Service team, who, to a man, seemed fascinated with investigative work and when not busy hunting down dangerous dirtbags absconding on bail, would wander into the office pleading to be put to work. He guessed that as they got too old or too smart for the rigours and danger of the fugitive retrieval game, they'd just migrate into EMIS instead and he was fine with that. They were, after all family, and family was there for each other, not to mention that both Steve and Mike already had a financial stake in the business.

More to the point, as he had brought unique skills and experiences to the retrieval team with his law enforcement background, even if the rest of them were all Spec Ops trained rather than investigators, there were transferable skills and experience they could bring to investigations. Gibbs had demonstrated that amply…okay perhaps not the best example in hindsight.

So Tony was certain they'd prove to be assets to EMIS; he trusted them with his life so why not his business? He figured that by the time they finished their apprenticeships and were ready to come on board as employees, Jack and Jono, Mike and Steve would work together well as partners.

In the meantime, he ended up with two partners since Gus was now doing field work again for the first time for years, although Tony preferred to keep a close eye on him as he integrated into his team of investigators. He didn't want an inexperienced investigator to have Gus' back – having been sold out by a colleague sucked and Tony knew more than anyone what that felt like. So he'd ended up having both Ruby and Gus as partners, although very soon it would just be him and Gus together when Ruby went off on maternity leave. She and Jack, aka Leyland Carrington III were living together and having a baby, one which Jack swore emphatically wouldn't become Leyland Carrington IV. Tony was really happy for his partner, even if her cravings when they were in the field had been driving him nuts ever since she fell pregnant.

So far, all his investigative team had been cops – partly because he'd always related well to cops and also because no feds had come looking for a job – until today that is.

Nikki Jardine had contacted him inquiring about a job - wanting to get away from DC and painful memories. Her brother, who was shot in Iraq had finally died a couple of years ago, tragically he never regained consciousness from his coma, spending years in a vegetative state. When she'd called Tony about a job, she explained forlornly that there was nothing keeping her in DC anymore and she was wanting a change. He knew she was a top-notch analyst and with the high profile jobs they were now handling, her expertise in analysing information could prove invaluable. She'd also confided to him during the interview that she wanted to learn the more hands-on aspects of investigative field work too. She looked at him cheekily.

"I want to get my hands dirty, Tony."

He gaped at her, remember the Middle East intelligence analyst who carried around wet wipes, couldn't shake hands, wore shirts and blouses with extra-long sleeves so she could use them to answer telephones or open door handles.

She giggled at his expression before sobering up. "The germ phobia was all about Eric. People in long term comas are very vulnerable to opportunistic germs, infections, viruses, parasites and fungi – it's a knife edge most of the time. Even a common cold can be deadly and I was petrified that I'd bring something into the hospital that would kill him. In the end it was out of my control – a staph infection that entered via his urinary catheter." She became teary-eyed and Tony nodded. Suddenly the wet wipes, the mask, the avoiding of shaking hands or touching stuff made a whole lot more sense.

"So I guess that means you're still a slob?" he asked her teasingly.

She laughed deprecatingly. "Yep but I'm working on it."

He sat looking at her for several minutes. Abby had called her Neat-Nut-Nikki but she certainly wasn't neat – far from it. Most people at NCIS saw her as a nervous Nellie who wouldn't be able to hack field work. Yet when she accompanied him to Baghdad to investigate the Marine Captain's death, regardless of her lack of experience she had hung tough. Despite seeing her first ever dead body which was pretty gruesome and being in a war zone, she'd still offered to find out the assassin's TOD and they didn't exactly have a liver probe. He was pretty sure that if that had been Tim, on his first case, he would have spent the entire trip puking his guts up, not offering to cut into a cadaver's body to establish time of death. Nikki was made of tough stuff and he couldn't help admiring her.

"Okay, Nikki. Let's try a six month trial period – for both of us. If it isn't what you thought it would be, then no harm done but I think we can make a credible investigator out of you." She got teary again about his decision to give her a chance and gave him a hug which was when he realised she really was telling the truth. Remembering the last time he'd tried to touch her how she'd nearly scrubbed herself raw with wet wipes, he grinned.

"Wow! That's one hug I never expected to get. Why don't you stop over for dinner tonight so we can catch up a bit? It's DC expats night at the Paddington house."

It was true. There'd been a mini exodus that gradually took place over the last eight years. Ducky was the first – after his retirement from NCIS he went travelling back to the mother country, catching up with third, or was that fourth cousins. He'd never got the English way of describing relatives. Tony thought they were twice or three times removed but since he never was close to his own relatives it wasn't something that had been very important to him. Even now his own kids wouldn't have cousins since he and Jay were both only kids.

Anyway, when Ducky came back to the States he called Tony up to inquire if he'd mind if he moved to Los Angeles to be closer to him. Ducky had become rather chummy with Jack too, what with patching him up in the safe house and then with being rescued following the abduction.

To be honest, Ducky was pretty easy to say yes to – he'd apologised til he was blue in the face about keeping mum about what he'd seen going on over the years. He had plenty of regrets about how actions had escalated an already bad situation but then, so did Tony, who knew only too well that you can't go back and change the past. The only option was to move on and try to do better…now and in the future.

Jimmy, yep their little Autopsy Gremlin or actually Dr Palmer now, was the next to make the pilgrimage to the west coast but unlike Ducky, he didn't seek permission. Jimmy simply turned up out of the blue at the house five years ago, just before bath time, announcing he'd been offered a great job in the ER at Cedars Sinai, and he was taking it. Tony knew how much Jimmy missed having Ducky around – he was still Palmer's mentor, even if they hadn't worked together for years.

Jimbo had ended up helping him bath the kids and was soaking wet by the time they were done, courtesy of a mischievous toddler with a million dollar grin. By the time he left, he was Uncle Jimmy to both his kids and Jay declared him an honorary brother. After he moved across the country, Jimmy stayed with Ducky til he got settled and found his own place. He'd flourished here and in just a few weeks would be marrying a radiologist that he met at work soon after starting his new job. Her name was Graciela and she, Ducky and Jimmy were all coming for dinner later.

Usually it was fairly relaxed night, everyone brought a contribution and the kids watched movies while the adults talked and caught up. Even though not part of the DC Mafia, Mike and Molly always came with their brood: Jannali his god daughter who was almost ten years old, Elanora seven and the terrible twins Dural (Dewy) and Iluka (Luke) who were almost five. The twins were Liam's partners-in-crime, getting into plenty of mischief together.

Of course, Gus came too and though they suspected that he was seeing someone called Olivia but the relationship was obviously still too new for him to subject her to their riotous and insane family. Jack came with his fiancée Ruby, his very pregnant Ruby since she was Tony's partner – therefore an honouree inductee at all ex pat dinners. And obviously, Steve and Swampy had open invites too, as part of the family.

Steve had begged off this week, though. He'd just been dumped by his girlfriend of two and a half years and Tony guessed he wanted to go away and lick his wounds in private. Tony understood that! Plus he probably knew that most of them didn't like Suzy all that much – a high school teacher who was always criticizing the team for being juvenile and trying to persuade him to leave ERS and get a safer job. Hell as a former SEAL, Steve would go stark raving crazy in a safe job. So when it ended, they were was sad that he was hurt but mostly everyone thought it was for the best.

And Jono was promising to bring his special someone too but then he'd been saying it for weeks and chickening out at the last minute. The team hadn't given him a hard time about it though – not since he'd come out a few years ago and admitted he was bi. He'd never introduced the team to any of the guys he dated but Tony figured that this one must be special if he was contemplating bringing him to ex-pats night. Although truly, he wasn't sure why they called it that anymore, with all the blow-ins.

Jackie was coming too, she'd told him that Jarrod was also probably coming, although Kayla was going to a party tonight. Both of the Vance kids had pretty active social lives – Kayla was off at college now and Jarrod was hoping to go to OSU on a basketball scholarship soon. The kid was basketball crazy and when Tony had promised to put in a good word for him at his alma mater and given him some coaching, Jarrod had become his slave for life. Tony figured it was the least he could do. It was tough growing up without a father – he knew.

Tony had always felt a pretty large degree of guilt over Vance's death – Leon wasn't supposed to die, even if he did hate the self-serving prick. So when he heard via the grapevine, several years ago that Jackie was thinking about selling up their house in DC and returning to California, he'd offered her a job as Office Manager.

Jay had been coming in a few days a week to handle the admin stuff and take some of the pressure off Tony but it was just getting too much for them to handle. She didn't want to return to work full time until their kids were at school and she'd been nagging him to hire a full time manager, which he finally did. He knew Jackie was planning on going back to San Diego where they lived, before Leon was appointed director of NCIS but he knew that Jarrod… well Kayla too, needed male role models and the team could provide that in spades.

Not to mention that apart from Gibbs, he and the ERS team were the only ones that knew what had really happened to Eli David and Leon's abortive attempt to save him. Keeping secrets was hard but such a huge one was beyond hard, so he felt like being around others who knew too might be less isolating for Jackie. He'd always admire her, she was a classy lady and he was pleased that she'd jumped at the offer, and now the Vances lived about 12 minutes north of Tony and Jay. After meeting his family, Kayla and her mother had immediately volunteered their services as babysitters.

The last of their merry little band of expats who managed to join them three or four times a year was Abby. Now Head of Forensic Science for one of those high paying private laboratories who had head hunted her for years, she had become a trouble shooter, turning up where there were complex or high profile cases and to act as a consultant. Whenever she was in the neighbourhood she'd make sure she took time out to visit and play Auntie Abby. Usually she stayed with Ducky, since he had plenty of room. Still a night owl, she didn't appreciate being woken up at five every morning by exuberant little Paddingtons climbing into bed with her.

Strangely, she preferred the magnificent panoramic views of the coastline from Ducky's guest bedroom to wake up to. She wouldn't be joining this DC ex-pats' dinner as planned though, since she'd texted a few days ago she was in New York attending a forensic conference.

After giving Nikki his address and saying goodbye, he wandered back into the office to find Steve, Mike and Gus waiting expectantly.

"Well?" Mike demanded eagerly.

"Well what?" Tony teased.

"Did you hire her, you dag?"

"Hey Croc! I take great offence at being called a matted piece of wool on a sheep's butt."

"Tough shit, princess. Did you hire her?"

"Yeah Croc, I did. For a six months trial period."

"I thought you said she was a germ-a-phobe. Does this mean we have to stop drinking out of the juice and milk cartons, now?" Steve whined, clearly alarmed at the prospect.

"Not phobic anymore – well not about germs, so no masks or wet wipes. But seriously Stevie, what are you - ten years old? If you're still drinking out of cartons at your age, just stop it or I'll have to kick your lazy SEAL ass outta here. It's disgusting and it drives the EMIS ladies crazy."

"Yeah Stevo." Gus admonished him, "Don't be a pig."

Rolling his eyes, Steve observed, "She's pretty hot!"

Tony nodded. Yes Nikki was attractive but more important that any physical attributes she possessed, she cared about people and was unfailing kind. A much better match for Steve than Suzy had ever been. Fortunately there was no rule 12 at EMIS to arbitrarily stand in the way of true love, so maybe in time…

Looking at the three of them - the three Musketeers – well four counting himself, Tony wondered what Jardine would make of them all. He also couldn't help wondering what news Ducky had to impart tonight. He'd indicated that he had some news to share and that it was both good news and bad but wouldn't be drawn further. He'd gotten a hinky vibe off the former ME and called Jimmy to see if he knew anything but Ducky hadn't seen fit to share with him, either.

Deciding to text Abby because she was probably the only other person he might have shared the information with, he hoped Ducky wasn't ill. He didn't come out and ask Abby because there was no need as she couldn't keep a secret to save her life. If she knew something she'd spill her guts. He remembered during Domino she was so weird, everyone know something hinky was going on.

Still if he asked and she didn't know, she would drive herself crazy and by extension him and Ducky too. Better to just say hi and see what she had to say. When she replied to his text it was clear she didn't have a clue - she texted him back, promising to come down within the next couple of weeks and stay for a few days.

Eight years later, it wasn't just her job that had changed. Their little Goth lab rat had had a hell of a nasty shock when her Silver Fox had confessed to murdering Pedro Hernandez. People used to joke about Tony's hero worship of Gibbs but he'd always known and accepted that Gibbs was far from perfect – although definitely not quite that imperfect. Abby on the other hand, would never hear a bad word spoken against him, not even the mildest of criticism.

So his confession, sentenced to 14 years at Fort Leavenworth (even with mitigation for temporary diminished capacity ) the stripping of his Silver Star and various commendations and medals and a retroactive dishonourable discharge from the Marine Corps, left her shaken and protesting that it was a mistake or he'd been framed. She'd started blaming Mike Franks and the convention of never speaking ill of the dead was duly ignored. Tony was pretty sure that if she figured out a way to raise him from the dead, she would, then proceed to kill the former NIS agent again but as painfully as possible. Tony felt a certain simpatico with her sentiments, he must admit.

He'd never been a huge fan of the former Marine and NIS agent. Franks was too much of a renegade and a law unto himself and he'd trained Gibbs – 'nuff said! Well he'd trained him after he'd used the grief stricken and revenge breathing young widower and father to extract vengeance for the death of his own agent. As an agent, if Tony deliberately gave classified, case sensitive information that facilitated a grieving spouse or parent, enabling them to kill a suspect, he was breaking his oath to uphold the law and at the least, would be an accessory to murder – even a co-conspirator. It was a gross betrayal of the trust placed in Franks as an officer of the courts and in Tony's opinion he was a disgrace to the badge.

Mike's actions as a federal agent were questionable as far as he was concerned, even if it had only been that one taint but then there were cases with Gibbs that begged the question – how lawful had they been? Then again, Tony had always suspected that a lot of Franks old collars if anyone dared to go back and look at them properly, would be highly suspect, if not downright illegal.

Tony had encountered a lot of old school cops that had a similar mentality to Former NIS Special Agent Michael Franks. Force a confession out of the perp with a little coercion, perhaps a bit of physical intimidation. If you needed to hit them, then using the old phone book technique… well it got them to confess okay and they were scum, after all. And in the days before DNA testing became commonplace and prevented a lot of innocent people being railroaded into prison, hell onto death row, how would anyone know, prove or even care if a few innocent people fell by the wayside and were falsely convicted? Guilty people don't confess after all.

Oh yeah Peoria, Philly even Baltimore had plenty of dinosaurs too but it still didn't make them right.

Franks' failures to personally uphold the law was numerous. The flaunting of immigration laws to smuggle his daughter-in- law and grandchild from Baghdad to the US and then smuggle them from the US across the border to Mexico, while one might argue hurt no one, wasn't the point. Removing evidence from a crime scene, removing confidential case files, attacking a federal agent so Mike could go and hunt down and kill in cold blood some perps he'd been chasing for years who'd become his bete noire was just not on. Lying to federal agents about possessing evidence that proved to be non-existent and who knows what other indiscretions, made a joke of his oath to uphold the law in Tony's humble opinion.

The list was undoubtedly much longer than what Tony was aware of. Mike hadn't been averse to breaking the law to catch scumbags, seeing absolutely nothing wrong with it if he closed the case. The old 'end justifies the means' argument was favoured by despots the world over, too. He was like many other old school cops, who saw nothing wrong with being a cop, judge, jury and executioner, all rolled into one.

Many of them, who saw nothing wrong with accepting free cups of coffee and doughnuts or free meals, gifts and gratuities which so easily morphed into kickbacks. It was a slippery slope, which was why Mike had always made Tony uncomfortable – even before he'd managed to beat him into a state of unconsciousness.

Of course, Abby had accepted Franks purely on the basis that he was Gibbs former boss and apparently, by way of humble osmosis, he was held in the same high regard that she held Gibbs. Placed her trust and faith in Franks too, completely on the basis of his past association with the boss and his loyalty to him. So naturally when it came to light that Mike had taken advantage of him, manipulated him and helped her blue-eyed god to kill Pedro Hernandez, forever tainting his career as an NIS and NCIS agent, not to mention questioning the essence of who he was, a USMC gunnery sergeant - Abby was shattered.

Crushed and disillusioned that the man that she saw as a surrogate father, was a murderer who'd in the end killed an innocent man – and therefore furious in a way that had never been seen before in Abby-land. Tragically, it was that inescapable fact that he killed an innocent man that couldn't be ignored or justified, no matter how much she wished she could grant him impunity and simply sweep it under the rug.

So it was inevitable that the Abby Sciuto who was eager for adulation, Caf-Pows and hugs, constantly requiring those around her to reassure her she was brilliant, reaffirm she was Gibbs' favourite on the team and that Gibbs was infallible, fell apart when the universe as she knew it, crumbled. Gone was the exuberant and extrovert scientist and in her place a hesitant, insecure woman who found herself questioning everything that she'd thought was immutable.

The new Abby was also much less gullible. Was suspicious – certainly. Cautious in dress, except at home where she gave free rein to her individuality, restrained in manner and her disposition was more measured and mature. Of course, a part of that was her new job, which demanded a more toned down Abby, but it could be argued if Gibbs hadn't pleaded guilty to the murder of Pedro Hernandez then Abby would probably still be in her lab with her 'babies' and her ear shattering music but then again, it hadn't exactly been her idea, either.

The fallout from the Gibbs court martial had been far reaching. It had sparked an agency wide series of investigations and resulted in careers being destroyed and a raft of court appeals on cases going back as far as Mike Franks' time at NIS. Honestly, the courts were still backed up with the cases under appeal, it was crazy! So it was almost inevitable that the bureaucrats wanted scalps. Abby had been caught up in the investigation by a particularly humourless and fiercely ambitious toad from the Department of Justice called Richard Parsons. He seemed to take personal delight in trying to destroy as many careers as possible. Everyone he set out to trash, whether guilty or not, ended up resigning or being fired – that is, til he began his investigation of the former MCRT.

Parsons was scathing about a lot of the methods Gibbs had employed to solve cases but he was already out of his reach in Leavenworth, serving 14 years. TPTB had directed Parsons not to pursue further charges against him, which had infuriated the vindictive civil servant no end and he took out his ire on the rest of the team – or he tried to. Ziva was already dead, which only left McGee and Tony in his gun sights, despite the fact that neither of them worked for the agency any longer.

Parsons became more and more rabid, especially when he uncovered the extent to which Gibbs and various directors had let, no encouraged McGee's illegal hacking. He'd not just been targeting individuals but also the Pentagon, every single sister alphabet agency and pretty much every federal and statutory authority, not to mention the military. To say the DoJ investigator was out for blood was an understatement but the problem was that now McGee was using those same skills at the CIA. Where in the past he was an annoyance, a thorn in their side which they longed to crush, now he worked for them and they were determined to protect their asset. As such, the politically powerful spooks brought intense pressure to bear and Parsons was forced to drop the hacking charges, incensing him greatly.

So the Toad turned his attention to Tony but the only charges he had a hope of making stick was the fact that he hadn't stopped Remy Grant disappearing. Even the suspicion that he'd found the missing cash and taken it with him was just that, and Tony had searched Remy and he didn't have it on him. Parsons had also tried to blame him for McGee's illegal hacking and Ziva's failure to follow protocol, for example her penchant for illegal break and entry but it fell flat, too. There was plenty of evidence of both junior agent's failure to follow chain of command during his four month sojourn as team leader. Tony might have been 'just a cop' but he had always tried to follow procedure as a general principle because he didn't want cases to be thrown out due to technicalities. The truth was he would never condone his agents doing so either. Unfortunately they hadn't had the same work ethic.

Eventually, the DoJ investigator had given him up as a lost cause but Abby had proved a fertile area of investigation due to her taking shortcuts to meet Gibbs unreasonable demands for forensic results. Her inability to tell him to pull his head in when he demanded results immediately, plus her prioritising results for the MCRT above all the other teams, regardless of their urgency had left her open to a whole heap of criticism. The upshot being that her results couldn't be relied upon in prosecutions. His dogged determination to claim a scalp had finally found a target and was determined to make her pay. When she had been informed that her days of working solo were over and that she would need to get used to having staff to verify her work, she'd done a Caitlyn Todd and resigned.

So it wasn't so surprising that Abby was different these days but then again, weren't they all. Yep, Abby had finally grown up and on the whole, she was a better person for it, even if Tony regretted how it happened.

He'd been deeply affected by Gibbs confession too but also by the Rivkin and David vendetta and his mentor's responses. Anthony Paddington was a very different person to Tony DiNozzo. Less tolerant of being abused by friends and workmates, more cautious about who he trusted and he had been practically verging on paranoid even before the vendetta. Now he trusted very few people.

Ducky had become sad and quiet, losing his joi de vivre – it was a long time before he had the heart to start telling his colourful stories again and Jimmy was just plain angry, feeling like he'd been deceived…like they all had.

So Tony focused on the present, since the past brought with it plenty of pain and that only lead to more bitterness and his family didn't deserve that. Honestly, he still had trouble accepting that Tony Daniel Paddington wasn't on his own anymore, tucked up in some anonymous bolthole, trying to hold himself together… that he had a family. A picture postcard, perfect family that completed him in a way that nothing else ever had and he wasn't about to take them for granted or jeopardise what he had. Not for a single solitary minute because without them, he wasn't sure if his life would be worth the effort.

Family mattered. So when he wasn't flying around the country working his ass off as an investigator or part of the ERS team which was the only other team he would ever consider working on, Tony Paddington aka Dino to his buddies, hurried home. He was perfectly content to spend precious quality time with Jay and their kids every chance he got. He'd cook dinner for them and help with what some might see as mundane stuff like homework and bath time, getting them into bed, reading them bedtime stories and watching them drift off to sleep.

Yet these simple pleasures meant the world to him, having been brought up in a house…a mausoleum really…where his childhood had been effectively dormant. His own parents were way too busy to take time out to put him to bed or supervise bath time and he'd learnt to manage on his own. Well too busy… but mostly too drunk. So he'd cherished being there with his own three treasures for these important parts of their day.

Tony still had trouble accepting that after spending all these years alone – he had a family all of his own. A family consisting of mommy, daddy, three little ones, a cat, two dogs and a cockatiel. Not to mention the ubiquitous white picket fence – the whole Norman Rockwell cliché. And he loved it! It hadn't been something he actively sought out when he'd returned to LA – he knew he was a mess, emotionally and psychologically. Knew it even before the whole shooting and killing his partner of almost four years and going on the run to escape a vendetta crap had even happened.

Afterwards, when 'David Steiner' was killed and then later Eli David 'died of a brain aneurism' in Israel, he'd recognised he was depressed, grudgingly admitted to Mike when pressed hard enough that he might have been suicidally depressed by some people's arbitrary measures, although Tony claimed it was simple pragmatism. He and Eli both couldn't live, so someone need to die and since he knew that Eli would never be self-sacrificing, the equation seemed pretty damned obvious to him. Still he acknowledged to his friend he had a lot of anger and feelings of betrayal to work his way through. So he definitely hadn't seen himself as husband or daddy material but Jay had other ideas.

Oh boy did she have other ideas.

Jay's pursuit of him had been tenacious, perhaps even single minded, bordering on an obsessive stalker in Croc's opinion, despite him fobbing her off repeatedly. Even Tony knew he was a mess so why couldn't she see it? Too much had happened to him over the years – his time at NCIS and what had gone down since he resigned. He wasn't even going to get into what had happened pre-NCIS or his childhood and upbringing, or lack thereof. It would surely need a tip truck to cart around all of his emotional baggage. He was a black hole of emotional pain and his crap would suck in anyone who tried to get too close to him and that wasn't fair to expect of anyone he might have feelings for. So he kept rejecting Jay's advances…not that it deterred her any.

When she wouldn't stop pursuing him he eventually was forced to try putting her off by sharing a bit of his crap with her. All the nightmares, the flashbacks he suffered, his inability to trust, to commit, to share his emotions – his crippling, almost pathological fear of abandonment. He even shared his family history – well some of it. Alcoholic parents, father a con artist, serial womaniser, philanderer who'd been an abysmal parent. But none of it had had the desired effect of scaring her off – the woman had the worst case of target fixation he'd ever seen.

Finally, in a moment of extreme weakness, he confessed that if he wasn't such a screwed up emotional wreck he might have considered going on a date with her. He might even entertain thoughts of a relationship since in an alternate universe he'd love a home and family too but he was afraid he'd end up a serial divorcer… like his father. That he'd psychologically scar any kids…like his father.

To which Jay had replied serenely that he didn't need to be worried about getting divorced since she didn't believe in marriage in the first place. Who needed a piece of paper? And second, kids were mighty resilient as long as they received plenty of love and their parents tried their best. He didn't need to be perfect. Then, she told him bluntly that if he was broken to take himself off and get fixed up. Tony had been on the point of declaring how much he loathed shrinks when he realised just how dumb it was to let a petty fear impeded his chance at having a full and happy life. So he took himself off, got fixed up as ordered. Well sort of!

It took him a while, well almost a year to be exact before he would begin to contemplate starting a relationship and yeah he knew only too well that he'd always be slightly shop soiled, a bit battered too. No, he'd never be a super shiny, new-in-the-box, free from flaws kind of guy but he was okay with that – he truly was. What's more, between the therapy, the talking and surfing with Mike and his music, the nightmares and flashbacks were much better too – not gone, probably never would be, but better. He still had difficulties trusting people too, and probably always would, plus he was terrified of losing those he loved but he no longer felt like a ticking time bomb waiting to take out everyone he cared about.

So now here he was with a wife – yeah a wife. One who had quickly realised that a piece of paper might mean less than nothing to her but to Tony with his abandonment issues, it meant security, unconditional love and acceptance. All of which were important to him. So Jay, never a shrinking violet, ended up proposing to him when he asked her to move in with him and they'd been married in a simple beach ceremony at sunset, surrounded by family and workmates. That was six and a half years ago, six and a half blissful years with no regrets, then the kids followed soon after.

Their daughter was not quite six, a serious artistic little girl with golden hair and cornflower blue eyes. Jay's hippy roots, as much as she spurned them normally, seemed to emerge with a vengeance during her pregnancy but she blamed hormones for starting her weird food cravings off. Gross food combinations that made Tony green and queasy since mung beans and rocky road ice cream, veg lentil pizza were just plain wrong together, anyway you looked at it. But it was after the birth of their daughter when it came time to name her, Jay's hippy background really came out to play. Much to Tony's horror she in all seriousness announced that their first born was going to be called Saffron Charisma Tippy Jenkins-Paddington.

He'd shaken his head in bemusement, knowing he couldn't let this go, understanding his little bundle of cuteness who turned him into a pile of goo, was depending on her daddy to nip this atrocity in the bud. So nip it he must, but sensitively.

With gentle decisiveness he uttered, "Jay, I have just one thing to say to you, love of my life and mother of my child – Jonquil Joi Jenkins."

After scowling at him for more than twenty minutes for using her hated childhood name and not approving of Saffron Charisma Tippy, during which time he'd still failed to break, Jay had capitulated. Not surprising that he hadn't broken since he'd never withered under the Gibbs' stare either and she was much less scary. Thankfully Jay had agreed to a less, free-love-and-peace type of name.

Well it was more like, "Fine! You're so smart. YOU pick one!" But Tony knew how to take lemons and turn them into lemonade, having had a lot of practise over his lifetime and was more than up for the challenge.

Watching his little cherub with adoring eyes, he contemplated her exhaustively. It was after all, his new favourite pastime. Keeping in mind her colouring, fair like her mother but obviously with one quarter of his Mediterranean genes her complexion was more golden hued, as was her hair. So instead of Saffron, which screamed hippy wannabe or refugee from a commune of Hari Krishna and what had ever happened to those guys anyway – last seen in a Flying High movie, he'd suggested they call her Xanthe. It was Greek, it meant golden, and while it was unusual, was not out and out weird. He'd also put his foot down over hyphens. Jay could call her Xanthe Jenkins or Paddington and he really didn't care which, but she had to pick just one last name. Initially extremely put out, thinking of her own rush to change her name from Jonquil to Jonica as soon as she possibly could, in an attempt to fit in as a teenager, Jay settled on Xanthe Clara Paddington.

When their son was born, Jay was less over the top with picking outlandish names although if anything her cravings were even more outrageous – the worst in his humble opinion being the midnight snacks of sardines and toffee ice cream...in bed. But the naming of their little boy had been much smoother process, with Jay first wanting to call him Sean, after a best friend who died with childhood leukaemia. When Tony explained why he wasn't keen on that particular name due to its similarity phonetically to Jeanne Benoit, the woman he'd stupidly fallen head over heels for while on an undercover assignment and had broken his heart, Jay suggested they could name him William after her grandfather but shorten it to Liam Sean.

"I really like it Jay," he grinned at the women who'd help put his Humpty Dumpty heart back together again. "But honestly, just as long as we don't call him Anthony. Gotta be the height of narcissism to want to call a baby after yourself. How come mothers don't do it? Never heard of a little girl named Junior."

So Liam Sean Paddington was now three and three quarters and a sandy haired, green eyed little bundle of energy who had trouble keeping still. He was always chuckling and singing. He was much more outgoing than his big sister and had a worrying habit of striking up conversations with perfect strangers, which meant they needed to keep an eagle eye on him at all times when they went out in public. His curiosity was immense, always catching bugs and beetles, butterflies and insects to observe and learn everything about them. People frequently commented that the apple hadn't fallen far from the tree with little Liam.

Then eight months ago their youngest child was born and Jay, par for the course went a little loco again, wanting to name this one Princess Rosebud. Tony rolled his eyes at the notion and she protested that if it was good enough for Michael Jackson to call his sons Prince then it was sure as hell good enough for their daughter.

Tony snorted and reminded her, "And how did you feel about your parents' choices, Jonquil Joi Jenkins?'

"I hated them." She admitted grudgingly as she glared at him hatefully.

"Your parents or your name?"

"Both!"

"At least you didn't have to go to school with kids with boringly normal sounding names but our children aren't going to be home schooled like you were. Maybe we can reach a compromise, Sweetie. My Nonna's sister was Rosa and I get the Rosebud, she's like a dark little rose. Our own little Rose Red but Jay, seriously, we need to nix the Princess. I don't want her to hate us when she's all grown up. How about we call her Rosalie. She can be Rose, Rosie or Lee for short?"

Thankfully, after an initial period of pouting Jay had finally regained her common sense, kissing him before admitting reluctantly, "Yeah you're right Tony. I went a bit crazy I guess. Thanks for being the voice of reason."

Hey, we both had names we hated growing up. Names are important. I didn't even get one of my own. My father still calls me Junior even though I've always hated it and he refers to himself as the real Anthony DiNozzo when he introduces himself or me. Don't want my kids to go through the same crap."

So their red, red rose of the ruby red kissable rosebud lips and rosy cheeks became Rosalie Cherie Paddington and it must be said that she had a quite a regal aura about her. She was a very alert infant, in that regard, a lot like Tony's goddaughter Jannali who was now almost ten and besotted with little Rosalie. But Rosie while alert was also a zen little girl, happy to play with her toes in her crib or with her mobile, lying on her play mat while life ebbed and flowed around her.

Her big sister Xanthe, though a serious child had been a bit of a despot as a baby. Demanding to be carried around but extremely picky about who was granted the privilege of being her chariot and permitted to convey her around her kingdom. Liam on the other hand, got passed around like the children's game pass-the- parcel and in general, seemed to think life was a hoot. Maybe that's why he became such a sociable little boy or maybe it was him being so social which was why he got handed round to so many people.

Anyway, all three kids were individuals and one thing Tony had learnt long before they were born was that making them compete for attention was a bad thing. So Jay and Tony encouraged their children's strengths and uniqueness and tried not to compare them to each other in their presence. They both spent time with them all as a family but also made time to be with each child, one on one for special time too and not just for bath and bed times. Xanthe liked to have deep and meaningful discussions about life and the universe and being one with nature, while Liam revelled in bugs and frogs and mud and making stuff. Little Rosie was still too young to know where her interest lay but she just liked to be snuggled and sung to and Tony couldn't remember a time when he'd been happier, no matter which of his kids he was with.

Tonight as he finished up baths and getting his three kids into PJs so they could all eat dinner and watch movies with the other kids – well Xanthe and Liam, he wondered yet again what news Ducky had to share with the. He really hoped Ducky wasn't sick – although his mother was a long lived lady, living well into her nineties before she passed away. Still Ducky was kind of a cross between a grandfather and a father figure to Tony and his family. He'd also gotten pretty attached to Jackson Gibbs too, when Ducky offered him a place in his three bedroom bungalow.

When Jack died, they'd all been devastated but the elder Gibbs - what with the revelation about his son, him going to prison, the dishonourable discharge had the stuffing knocked out of him and then the attempt on his own life in the sleepy little Stillwater general store had been the coup de grace. For the elderly Gibbs. He'd taken it extremely hard when he'd been forced to shoot Pedro Hernandez' son and daughter even though it had been in self- defence. Tony could relate – at least, about having to kill to save his life and to face the prospect of more vendettas.

Damn he missed the old guy so much and Zanthe had made a special connection with him too. He wondered if it was because she reminded him of his grand- daughter Kelly and she took his death particularly hard too.

Shepherding his son and daughter downstairs and cradling Rosalie in the crook of his arm, he decided it was time to turn on the oven and heat up the lasagne and the homemade bread. The family should all be arriving soon.

An Eye for an Eye

Leroy Jethro Gibbs looked around his small but airy prison cell with an oddly affectionate expression. It had been his home for the last eight years and strangely enough, he'd found peace here, if not peace then definitely acceptance, and solitude. In a way it reminded him of his basement in his former home in Alexandria. He'd expected that it would be his home for several more years yet as the judge had had sentenced him to serve 14 years at the United States Disciplinary Barracks at Fort Leavenworth for the murder of Pedro Hernandez over a quarter of a century before. Yet here he stood, taking one long last look at what had been his home for so many years, knowing that many of the other inmates thought he was lucky to be getting out six years early.

Him… not so much!

Over the years and many hundreds of hours of contemplation, he wondered if a part of him hadn't always recognised what his stubbornly self-righteous, mulish self, refused to acknowledge and that was why when at home, he practically lived in the basement. He often ate, drank, thought, even slept down there on the unforgiving cement floor. The basement was simply a larger version of his cell now, so it was no wonder he felt safe and at home here.

Had he subconsciously been trying to mete out self-punishment for what he'd done? After all, he arrested killers and yet he was one himself and if that wasn't the height of hypocrisy he wasn't sure what was. In hindsight, he wasn't sure how he'd managed to hide it for so long from everyone he worked with…everyone he'd cared about.

Was it also the reason he concealed the fact he had a family, since they were inexorably linked to him killing Hernandez. Quite possibly. So he'd hidden down in his basement, his cell, punishing himself and also everyone close to him, venturing out basically to chase down people like himself…murderers and killers. Oh they all had their excuses for killing, just like he did but the bottom line was he had far more in common with the people he caught and interrogated than with the people he worked with.

Was that why' he'd been so damned good at it – catching murderers and killers? If so, it explained why he'd never managed to track down DiNozzo. In his three years of searching, he'd never been able to get inside his head and come close to tracking him down but then his former SFA was intrinsically a good man, an ethical man. Always was their moral compass on the MCRT, right down to the little stuff like questioning their hacking of DMV files or getting a key from a building super rather than taking the easy road with a set of lock picks. Sacrificing himself for all of them, even if Gibbs didn't deserve it.

The agency had lost a brilliant agent because of Leon's insistence he take one for the team. They lost someone with exceptional leadership abilities who should have been a mentor to those up and comers but most of all, they sacrificed an honourable man, one who had principles and those are few and far between. Vance and Davenport had weighed their worth against his and found he was expendable, yet the truth was that shit has a way of rising to the top. DiNozzo was worth ten of Vance and Davenport

There would always be men like the director and Sec Nav but not so the incorruptible. They should always be guarded, no matter the cost, and that he'd failed to do. He screamed blue bloody murder when McGee shot that cop in error, tried hard to protect him. Maybe not all that well but at least he spoke out about it but then did nothing, said nothing to stop what happened to Tony after Rivkin died.

Glancing around his home these past eight years, he was reluctant to leave. The irony was that while incarceration was supposed to be a punishment, truthfully, he was happier here than he'd been for a long, long time. During the day he taught the younger guys woodworking skills. He felt a deep sense of satisfaction and pride, knowing that when they were released, they had some skill or trade that would enable them to make a fresh start. In his spare time, he filled the empty hours creating things. He made toys for disadvantaged kids and started creating or modifying equipment for people who were disabled.

And in his cell at night for a long time… years actually, he'd worked diligently on freeing Shannon and Kelly from the psychic internment his overwhelming grief and his stubborn refusal to work through it had created. His inability to let them go had trapped them, if Celestial Dave was to be believed in some sort of other worldly dimension where neither of them could move forward, nor could they return either. He'd always maintained to the apparition of his XO that he had to find DiNozzo and make peace with his SFA before he could work through his grief and let them go but it was a lie. He just never believed he had the courage to deal with such all-encompassing pain, grief and anger. Gibbs' had no doubt that he could easily endure physical pain, that was not in question but when it came to emotions he was scared shitless at the prospect of dealing with that type of hurt.

Truthfully, after more than three years, when he'd finally had the opportunity to talk to DiNozzo, to apologise for his actions and part in what occurred, he'd chickened out. He wasn't man enough to say what should have been said to Tony in front of others. He'd decided to do it in private, confident that with Eli dead, he had all the time in the world to do so. He'd intended to do it when the party wound down or maybe later on, since DiNozzo was home to stay now. He'd invite him round for cowboy steaks and say what needed to be said – just the two of them. Man to man!

Then, even before the welcome home get-together even had a chance to go ahead, that Mike guy got word about his brother and he and his team went chasing off after him, which frankly was no skin off Jethro's nose. Until to his shock DiNozzo had gone with them and Gibbs lost his chance. The next day the guy from State and the representative of the Mexican government had come to his front door with news that had rocked him to his very core.

It had taken a massive wake-up call for him to finally work on letting his beloved girls go. Learning that he had killed an innocent man – one with two little children who, thanks to his hatred and need for revenge, had grown up without their father, had shocked him. Alright… it had nearly killed him. For the second time in his life he seriously contemplated taking his own life. It was only Dave's warning that if he killed himself, Shannon and Kelly would be trapped for eternity in the gilded cage that his obsessive love had fashioned for them, which had ultimately prevented him from eating his gun.

Yet even with such a massive reminder that he'd screwed up so badly, it had taken the fact that Hernandez' children had grown up with anger, vicious all-encompassing anger in their hearts and desire for revenge instead of love and tolerance, to finally shift him out of inertia and into action. Not long after his confession and trial, not satisfied with his prison sentence, they'd come after his father, Jackson Gibbs, while he was working in his general store in Stillwater.

Paloma and Alejandro come a hairsbreadth away from killing his dad – his innocent father and veteran of WWII - except that Jackson was a wily old bird. Tough as old boot leather if you listened to his anecdotes plus the fact he kept his trusty old Winchester always handy in the store. He'd killed Paloma Reynosa and Alejandro Rivera and fortunately only been winged by Paloma but still, it had seriously shaken him. Having to kill them more than being shot himself.

Jack had decided to sell the store and leave his home of nearly sixty years. Some idiot from DC who was a burn-out from Corporate America, decided it would make a nice tree change for him and his family and bought the general store, lock stock and barrel, paying at least 25 percent more than it was worth. They say a fool is easily parted from his money and he reckoned there was plenty of truth in that.

Shocked to the core, it was at that point Jethro decided to sell his Alexandria house and use the proceeds to help look after his dad and he set up a trust fund for Alejandro's son, hoping to break the cycle of hatred and revenge for the young boy. Paloma had no offspring – apparently too consumed with hatred to procreate and for that Jethro was glad. He could only imagine how that hatred would have infected an innocent little child. While the bulk of the trust fund which Gibbs created was meant to pay for the boy's college education, an annuity was paid annually to his mother to support the young Pedro Rivera.

Jack contributed to the trust fund too, insisting that he didn't need a lot of money or material stuff to live out his days. Adding to Jethro's guilt was the fact that Jackson was too afraid to stay in Stillwater after selling the store, fearing more of the Reynosa and Rivera clan would come looking for him to avenge Alejandro and Paloma's deaths. The sleepy Pennsylvania town where he'd spent most of his adult life was now a place he no longer felt safe enough to see out his days and how sad was that?

In the end, he'd agreed to go and live with Ducky but to be safe he'd changed his name to Jack Gibson as a precaution, continuing up to the end, to live in fear for his life. Between the dislocation of his home of over sixty years and guilt over killing two people up close and personal, Jack struggled to cope with the dramatic life changes. His health steadily declined, even with Ducky's diligent care and cossetting. His dad had died four and a half years ago, leaving Jethro with a heap of regrets... too many to mention. But most recently, Gibbs regretted that he'd refused to let his father come for a visit. Jackson had faithfully written to him over the years in Leavenworth, usually weekly but although he read the letters, Gibbs rarely replied.

He was not much for small talk but even less one for writing letters, so there was much left unsaid between them. So much he should have been man enough to say to Jackson but didn't, and now it was too late. He'd always tried to justify it by telling himself that he wasn't a talker but it wasn't an excuse – not a good one. He should have made the effort. Family deserved better but in the end, the joke was on him. He had so much stuff he should have said but bottled it up and now that he knew he'd never get to tell his dad it was like it all came bubbling up, like it was all trying to choke him. How damned ironic!

And now, all because of a damned stupid diagnosis they were cutting him loose. Claiming that it was an act of clemency to release him early – six years to be exact – to enable him to seek out specialised medical treatment and spend any time he might have left with family and friends. Compassionate? What would be really compassionate would be not kicking him out of his cell where he was perfectly happy to remain until the end. He had no family left now his dad was gone and he'd successfully pushed away anyone over the years who fell into the friend category. Partly because he didn't feel he deserved them and partly because he couldn't be bothered dealing with all the questions, the disappointment, the judgement, their interference.

Of course Ducky had found out about his release since he knew the medical superintendent of Fort Leavenworth, who must have mentioned his early release due to compassionate grounds. For the love of Mike, Mallard seemed to know everyone remotely medical or at the very least, know someone who knew someone so that even though they weren't supposed to release his medical details, Ducky had a way of making an end run around the rules to find out what he wanted to know. He probably played the old 'shake your head if I'm off base' game and surmised reasons for his early release.

Since Duck was no fool, he'd obviously put two and two together and it wasn't as if they released people early for a hang nail, he guessed moodily. He made a mental note that next time, he'd pick someone not medically trained as his next of kin and medical proxy. Except there was no one else, and besides, where he was going he doubted he'd be given a second shot. There are no do-overs in Hell.

Meanwhile, Ducky had immediately written to him, insisting that he come back home with him until he found his feet and decided what his next move was going to be. Since Ducky knew that he'd sold the Alexandria house, he hadn't been able to fob him off with an excuse about going home and the truth was that he really didn't have anywhere to go. So he allowed himself to be talked into going to stay with Ducky. He told himself it was just for a week or two til he got his bearings and could find somewhere else to stay. So as he took one last look around, he drew a deep breath and prepared to face the outside world for the first time in eight years.

Donald 'Ducky' Mallard was waiting for him as he exited the prison, eight years older than the last time he'd seen him. There were quite a few more wrinkles on his face, his light brown hair was starting to show more grey than brown which was still quite thick for someone of his vintage. Yet despite his age, he still moved quite sprightly as he made his way towards Jethro, arms outstretched in welcome. Gibbs was expecting that Ducky would be pissed at him like he was after he retired to Mexico after the bombing of the Turkish ship the Bakir Kamir. It seemed however that Ducky had decided after such a long time apart to let bygones be bygones because welcoming an old friend was the order of the day.

Thankfully not waiting for Gibbs to speak, Ducky guided him to a waiting cab, ushering him gently into the back seat and slipping in beside him. Seeing Gibbs looking at him curiously, he smiled back at the man that Tony, years before had labelled a functional mute. Some things it seemed, hadn't change so Ducky obligingly didn't wait to be asked about their destination.

"We are heading to the airport and flying home, dear boy."

Gibbs snorted since he hadn't been called a boy in a very long time. At sixty four he didn't know if he actually felt amused or offended by the moniker. Grunting, he hoped Ducky was up to interpreting what he meant but although Ducky had been his friend for a long time and knew him better than most, he'd never been as adroit at reading his various grunts and facial expressions as one other individual. That particular honour went to DiNozzo, even when they'd worked that case together in Baltimore, he'd just had a knack.

He hoped that Duck would cut him some slack and not expect chit-chat when he was finding the outside world to be more than a little overwhelming. He'd never been a chit-chat sort of guy and he was even less so now. Truthfully he wasn't exactly looking forward to a flight, surrounded by a lot of people. Never sociable at the best of times, he was feeling downright antisocial now – claustrophobic even. He hoped their trip wouldn't be too crowded or too long. He didn't even remember where Ducky told him he lived now – not that it mattered. One place was just as good as another, he supposed.

All he recalled was that Ducky had left DC within a year of his retirement from NCIS. He'd travelled over to see some distant cousins on his mother's side of the family in England and visited Scotland where his father was from and where he was born and then returned and sold his DC home. He'd written to him in prison and told him about the move but Jethro had been in really dark place back then, working on his guilt and letting go of Shannon and Kelly, which was every bit as painful as he expected it to be. He only remembered Ducky mentioning that it was someplace warm and sunny and he figured maybe he'd gone to Florida. It was after all a retirement mecca for seniors.

When Jackson accepted Ducky's offer to come and live with him, there'd deliberately been no mentioned of where he was living in letters he wrote his son for security purposes, in case anyone read them who shouldn't. They were concerned that even the postmark may reveal too much information, so Jack and Ducky's letters had been sent to Gibbs via his lawyer who then put them into a fresh envelope and forwarded it on to him in Leavenworth. Jack had mentioned that the warmer winters was good for his arthritis but he wasn't so fond of the summers. Still, apart from that comment, he and Ducky seemed to get along together just fine and Gibbs was grateful for his old friend taking Jackson in and looking after him when he wasn't able to. He owed Ducky a debt he could never repay him but when he was able to pull his head outta his ass, he knew a proper thank-you was in order. Ducky appreciated the social niceties and he knew he'd be grateful for the gesture and it was little enough, so he'd have to suck it up.

Gibbs knew that the Kansas City International Airport wasn't that far away from the USDB. Roughly 16 or so miles from Fort Leavenworth and he sat feeling numb as the cab headed toward Platte City, Missouri and then headed south on Interstate 29 but then drove right past Kansas City International. He wondered if the cabdriver knew where the hell he was going when he started seeing signs for Kansas City. He devoutly hoped Ducky hadn't thought to drag him into the city for a meal or some such nonsense.

The eccentric former medical examiner was quite capable of organising an excursion to the local art gallery or an obscure museum, blissfully unaware of Gibbs' total lack of interest in anything except going home. The man's breadth of hobbies and intellectual pursuits were astounding – only he would think that taking a date to the Smithsonian after hours would be a romantic tryst. Gibbs by contrast had just a handful of hobbies or pursuits including military history and strategy, wood work, baseball, football and chess – he was hoping Ducky would give him a few games since he played too. Sighing, since Ducky was putting him up, he decided to bite his tongue for as long as he could and not make a scene.

He was rather glad that he hadn't when the cab pulled into the Charles B. Wheeler Airport which he seemed to recall had been described as one of the most dangerous airports in the US, although Air Force One still landed on occasion. Before he had a chance to interrogate, no question Ducky about why they were here, he found himself hurried on board a corporate Lear Jet and found an excellent cup of coffee being pressed into his hands as he was pushed into a comfy leather seat, feeling dazed and disorientated. After drinking the coffee and Ducky refilling it, he finally found his tongue.

"Thanks Duck." Gesturing around the plane he quirked an eyebrow. "Friend of yours?"

Ducky smiled to hear Gibbs talking without someone ripping out his fingernails. "Indeed Jethro. A young investigator co-leases this jet I believe, and since they weren't using it today, I thought you might appreciate the privacy. You never did appreciate the privilege of rubbing shoulders with the great unwashed, did you, dear fellow? We're just waiting for him to embark and we shall be taking off. I dare say you are looking forward to going home, my boy."

Gibbs grunted, hoping his friend would take that as assent since he wasn't up to talking. The previous five words had taxed him enough. He did wonder about the snippet of information about the owner/ leasee of the plane. Why had he flown down to Missouri today with Duck? Perhaps he was worried about an elderly Dr Mallard flying home with a convicted murderer – or he was worried about his jet. Leaning back and closing his eyes he wished that he was back in his cell – he so wasn't ready for all of this crap.

"Sorry Ducky, I wanted to pick up something nice for our lunch and I promised to bring something home for Xanthe, Liam and Rosie. I'll just let Hamish, our pilot know we're good to go."

Gibbs eyes shot open. Sonofabitch! He came face to face with greeny-blue eyes that were disturbingly familiar. What was his former senior field agent doing here?

Tony gave him an enigmatic smile. "Hallo Gibbs. I'd say it's good to see you but for the circumstances," before disappearing to talk with the pilot.

Gibbs glared at Ducky, confused. "The young investigator I was telling you about. He and his chum Crocodile jointly lease the jet for their businesses. Anthony runs Everyone Matters Investigative Services and employs a dozen or so people and Crocodile owns a highly successful fugitive retrieval service for high profile and dangerous bail absconders.

"They went to school together I believe, along with Crocodile's younger brother Alligator and another good chum Stephen. Crocodile's team are all Special Forces trained, apart from his brother, who is a former federal policeman and Anthony who helps out on the team occasionally. Delightful young men, all six of them and all RIMA alumni." He enthused.

Something clicked into place for Gibbs. They'd checked with his college contacts and frat brothers but that hadn't been helpful – how could they have missed RIMA? Because he'd never said much about his time there, mostly talked about his frat brothers in college. And then like tumbling dominos, another one fell into place too. Fugitive retrieval – hostage rescue, "They rescued you from the mercenaries hired to abduct you?"

Ducky nodded. "I don't see the harm it would do now to reveal it was the ERS boys Elite Retrieval Services, sans Anthony of course, who was rather busy brokering an armistice with Director David in Israel at the time. I must say, I was totally surprised that he honoured their truce. His psychological profile does not suggest that Eli would back off so easily. Perhaps some subtle blackmail?" Ducky mused, slyly.

"Dr Mallard, you wound me! And underestimate my considerable charm. Like so many before you, Ducky." Tony quipped as he returned to the cabin and sat down beside him. "Seatbelts on, wheels up in five."

"Ah yes I am well aware of your considerable gift of the gab, young man, but I still maintain that it was very uncharacteristic behaviour for Ziva's father to back down like that. That family was not renowned for their charity and forgiveness. Not that I was suggesting that there was anything for him to forgive, you do understand."

Exchanging an old fashioned look with Gibbs which the older man took to be a directive not to reveal the truth to the doctor, he nodded – barely perceptible. Non-disclosure, classified info and pissed off Israelis were not a good combination, even eight years on.

"Well Ducky, I for one am heartily glad that this time you were wrong. We worked out our differences before his death and all's well that ends well, as the saying goes."

"Quite, dear boy but still…."

"Ducky, please… just drop it. Sometimes curiosity killed the cat and it is better not to speculate." At which point Ducky grinned, rather like the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland, as Tony had given him the barest glimmer, confirming his long held suspicions that all was not as it seemed, wrapping it up in a blunt warning. "Ah like that is it. Fair enough, Anthony." And he subsided gracefully.

Changing the subject Ducky asked what he'd bought for their lunch since it was getting on for 1230. Tony chuckled, thinking if it was him he'd want pizza but since it was Gibbs he'd bought Chinese.

~o0o~

The former mortal known as Shannon Gibbs sat in the back of the Lear jet. "He really can't see us, can he?"

The former mortal beside her shook his head. "Only if we wish it and that is not in the rules at this point, I'm afraid. At least not yet."

"He looks sick. Old and sick, Dave. Is he going to die?"

"You know I don't know that kind of Intel, Shannon. It's likely, since he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer."

"Well if he does, will we get to be together again?"

Dave sighed. "It's not my call as you well know, Missy. I did my best to make him wise up. I really did but the Gunny is just so damned pigheaded. He's his own worst enemy. Never expected that my sacrifice in saving the miserable bastard's skin would all prove to be for naught."

Gibbs' former XO, known to Gibbs at least, as Celestial Dave but perhaps a more accurately description was Guide, regarded Shannon sympathetically. It was no joke to be facing the forced separation of one's soul mate for eternity. It wasn't something the PTB liked to do either since Gibbs wouldn't be the only one sentenced to an eternity of loss and loneliness. But needs must and all that.

"Come on Dave, give me something. You're his Guardian Angel, you must know something…anything," she demanded giving him the puppy dog eyes and the pouty mouth.

"If I told you once I told you a thousand times, I'm a Guide, I'm no angel and all I know is that nothing's been decided yet…okay? He's confessed and served his time and helped rehabilitate a lot of young men while he was there. Plus he resolved his grief and let you both go… but it mightn't be enough.

Seeing her pain he explained. "He only confessed and is remorseful because he killed the wrong man. He hasn't learnt anything from this, not really. If he could do it over, knowing what he knows, he'd still kill Hernandez – he'd just make sure it was the right one this time. That's been noted by TPTB and they're not happy about it – they were looking for true remorse.

"So I'm just not sure. They won't make any decisions lightly but even if he was to repent and be sincere about killing for revenge's sake being wrong instead of seeking justice, I'm not sure if it wouldn't be a cosmic case of too little, too late."

The former Marine Lieutenant in his past life, put his arm around Shannon, who was visibly distraught. As she started to cry, he crumbled. "Look I really don't know Shan, I might be totally wrong here but I promise you this. If he doesn't get to be with you in the hereafter, then I'll make sure you and Kelly get some time with him before he dies. Morty already owes me a favour and I'll fix it so you can be the ones to show him the way home."

It never ceased to amuse Dave that the Angel of Death went by the ridiculous name of Morty but he guessed in his line of work, a sense of humour always came in handy. Dave knew he couldn't do Morty's job.

"Thank-you Dave, I do appreciate everything you've done for us all, I know it's been challenging in the extreme and you've always gone way beyond the pale for him, even in life." Her lips curled upward into a tiny smile of gratitude. "If Jethro was to truly regret his act of revenge, would they still force us to be apart from each other do you think?" the redhead asked hopefully.

Dave winced – he really didn't want to be the bearer of bad tidings – he didn't even want to think about it. "It's possible," he conceded slowly. "But they might decide to test him, perhaps give him another chance to prove himself…maybe."

"How would that work? Send him back in time?" She wondered out aloud.

"No. That nonsense only works in books and films, Hun. They'd give him a new life and send him back down again, give him the same choice, make him live his lifetime over and over until he gets it right." Frankly he couldn't think of a worse fate… well perhaps one.

"And Kelly and I would have to wait?"

"Maybe. Look…remember this is all hypothetical. They might and I say 'might' give you a choice. Stay here and wait for him to get it right or go back with him, knowing that you and Kelly will die young and have to keep on repeating that scenario til he gets his head out of his ass."

Shannon's face reflected her horror at the terrible dilemma such a choice would mean. Dave rushed to comfort her. "Look, like I said, it's speculation on my part… nothing more than that right now and if you were to choose to remain here with us and wait… well you already know that the concept of time is not the same here on our plane of existence."

She nodded. It was true! Time moved so much more slowly in the corporeal realm.

"And even if you decided to return with him, you would have no memory of this reality while you were inhabiting a physical body again and wouldn't know you were both destined to live a short life. And worst case scenario if it came to pass, since a grieving Jethro wouldn't have to contend with Mike Franks this time round and his manipulating of a grieving husband and father, even if he wanted to kill, Jethro might not even be capable of finding and killing the murderer. So he might not need multiple lifetimes to finally get it right."

Shannon's colour was high and her green eyes' flashed with a fiery intensity as her anger manifest itself. "What wouldn't I give for just five minutes alone with that detestably, disgusting old bastard? Mores the point, why couldn't he be a real man, a real Marine and go off and extract his own vengeance on Hernandez? He's nothing but a yellow bellied coward. How dare he take advantage of Jethro and use me and Kelly to do it?"

Dave gave her an evil smirk. "And that's why we didn't let you near him, Missy. But don't you fret, shovelling the fires of Eternal Damnation nonstop for the next ten millennia seems like a pretty sensational sanction to me, Petal. And that's before he has to serve out any punishments for any of his other sins. Besides, while time doesn't have the same context for us as it does in the physical plane – nor does time play out the same down there either. It moves much, much slower with 'Ole Nick' than on earth."

Realising that Franks was destined to be tortured for a really long time, Shannon Gibbs flashed him an evil grin. It didn't change Mike's crime but it did make her chuckle. Still the bottom line was that no matter how he was manipulated, no matter that Jethro had a traumatic brain injury affecting his ability to make decisions, he'd still chosen to end a life for the sole purpose of avenging her and Kelly's death and couldn't see it as a betrayal of everything that he was as a USMC gunnery sergeant. Even after killing the wrong man, he still thought he was right to avenge his family just that his execution had been flawed.

Celestial Dave nodded at one of the two mortals sitting in the pair of seats facing front, while giving Gibbs some space as he alone in one of the pair of seats facing backwards. "Let's hope that DiNozzo or Dr Palmer can knock some sense into the darn lugnut before it's too late. Both of them have more reason than most to abhor acts of revenge. Palmer's uncle was caught in the crossfires of an ongoing biker war and killed while having a snack at a cafe and his former mentor got caught up in a nasty vendetta between a cheating husband and wife and was the unwitting accessory to the death of the wife's much loved cat. When she sued him, he overdosed on morphine.

"Then there's DiNozzo, who had his whole life destroyed because a megalomaniac wanted vengeance, even though he was acting in self-defence when he was forced to kill a cold blooded assassin and assuredly would have died if he hadn't. So I'm damned sure they will attempt to show Leroy Jethro the error of his thinking. Hopefully it will be enough and hopefully the stubborn idjit will listen for once."

~o0o~

Tony groaned as he tried to unkink his neck. He must have closed his eyes for a few minutes and nodded off. He was exhausted. They'd been up the last couple of nights with Rosie who was cutting a tooth and miserable. The hot tender gum, the sore red little bottom and the foul smelling, scalding baby poop had combined to produce one very unhappy little mademoiselle of the pouty rosebud lips. One thing he'd cottoned onto pretty damned quickly was that with a teething baby, she was likely to keep everyone else up too. Both Jay and himself were out of sorts and a little peeved that their little princess Rosalie Cherie managed to snooze for several hours at a time during the day despite not being able to sleep at night. She managed to catch up a bit on lost sleep but there was no rest for the wicked.

Well actually, sniggering, he figured he had just checked out for a good fifteen to twenty. Seeing that Ducky had been chattering to Gibbs in a low tone so as not to disturb him, he grinned at him. Ducky smiled back.

"Stakeout Anthony?"

"Na Ducky. Rosie – tooth." He replied with a grimace. "She's even been gumming the cat. Bought her a nice soft plush one back there." Waving vaguely towards Kansas City. "Hope she likes it cuz the cat's about ready to take out an apprehended violence order against her, I swear."

"Poor thing." Ducky commiserated and Tony wasn't too sure if he was empathising with Marietta their marmalade cat or Rosie. Well not until he began speaking again. "I'll make up a wonderful teething gel that I learnt while visiting a tribe in the Papua New Guinea Highlands although I may need to improvise on a couple of the ingredients.

As he started to expound on his time in the wilds of New Guinea, Tony zoned out, thinking of his weird dream. He'd dreamed that Gibbs first wife Shannon had been aboard the plane and accompanied by a stranger that was obviously a Marine who kept referring to himself as Celestial Dave – like a fake psychic – or was that tautology? They had an interesting conversation about Gibbs' soul and what would happen after he passed over – freakin morbid dream. What is wrong with you, Anthony?

Seemed they were as much of a fan of Mike Franks as he was. Man that Shannon Gibbs of his dream was a firebrand. He wondered if she'd ever been tempted to wield sporting implements against her husband – maybe a hockey stick.

It didn't take a Freudian or Jungian psychoanalyst to tell him that he was conflicted about Gibbs and their reunion. He was still majorly pissed at him for being such a damned hypocrite. Arresting others for revenge crimes while he'd done the exact same thing, not even doing it right and ending up killing some innocent guy. Having a bunch of rules he never followed himself – hallo, never take anything for granted, always double check ring any bells, Jethro? And he was pretty certain that Gibbs contrition was only because he found out he killed the wrong guy.

Even after everything that that Eli David had put him through – had put them all through, Jethro still clung stubbornly to the belief that his revenge was justified just misguided. Well who died and made Gibbs so damned special that he had the right to flout the law.

So he intended on confronting him on his bullshit, not to mention a few other things as well but like Ducky, he figured that it was neither the appropriate time nor place. No one, especially Gibbs would appreciate being confronted right after he'd just set foot out of Leavenworth for the first time in eight years and he'd already decided to wait til Gibbs was settled in. Appraising him covertly, he knew it was a good call, since apart from looking like a deer caught in a headlight, his former boss looked sick. He had dark shadows under his eyes and had become gaunt in the face – even a little jaundiced. He knew that Ducky intended to drag him off to Cedars Sinai to see a world renowned oncologist but Jimmy was far from optimistic; saying that pancreatic cancer was extremely aggressive.

So Tony was pretty sure that his weird dream was a product of his concerns, fears and his outright pent-up anger at Gibbs. Still he couldn't for the life of him figure out what the hell he'd been thinking when he conjured up Celestial Dave from his crazy subconscious. A Guardian angel who was a Jarhead? Plus an Angel of Death called Morty? Yeah actually, that one was sort of logical, taking into account his pretty offbeat sense of humour. He wouldn't be a bit surprised if his Angel of Death, Morty was a big fan of zombie movies too.

As he chuckled at the thought, a more relevant one popped into his head unbidden. Dreams occurred during REM sleep and he'd been snoozing for about 20 minutes max – ergo he couldn't have been dreaming…could he?

End Notes:

Well, this is the point that I'd like to thank anyone who is opting out of the story here, for making it this far. I know this hasn't been an easy story to read - it hasn't attracted the amount of reviews or traffic that some of my more popular stories have. Having said that, the reviews I have received have been especially appreciated by me because of the challenging nature of this story. I think I said previously, I am proud of this story - I'm also a little confused by certain directions that I found myself taking as I wrote this - namely the supernatural/ or spiritual themes that emerged since it is a bit of a theological dogs' breakfast, (mish-mash) so to speak. Blame it on a misspent youth caught up in a new age cult lol.

To those of you who are in it to the end, I'll see you on the other side for the last chapter. Oh and the name challenge I issued earlier - it isn't that Croc and Molly's kids are all named after places in Australia, which also happen to be indigenous names, too. Try again :) No it wasn't Morty either!