Fic: Ten Years On - 2/5

[xanthefic]

Ten Years On
By Xanthe
Part Two

Louis was finishing off his ice-cream by the time McGee made it to the restaurant. It was a warm day so he was sitting on the restaurant's back patio with Gibbs and Ducky, smears of green all around his mouth, and he was slowly but happily sucking on his spoon.

"Hey – pistachio right?" McGee said, grinning at him as he took the empty seat opposite him, next to Ducky and across from Gibbs.

"Uncle Tim!" Louis's face lit up. "Is Daddy with you?" he asked. McGee shook his head.

"No, he…uh, had to do some work," he said lamely.

"Did he kill that man?" Louis asked. McGee winced.

"No – that was just a joke, Louis," he said quickly, crossing his fingers as he spoke. Gibbs raised an eyebrow at him. McGee grimaced.

"You know, Louis – why don't we go over to the play area?" Ducky suggested, glancing from Gibbs to McGee and back again. There was a jungle gym and a slide over in the corner of the restaurant's yard.

"Can I, Boss?" Louis asked, his chin dripping ice-cream.

"Sure – let me just clean you up."

Louis grinned happily as Gibbs grabbed a napkin, spat on it, and wiped it over his face, and then Ducky took Louis's hand and led him away. Ducky had retired a few years ago but McGee thought he never seemed to grow a day older. His hair was thinner now but he was still lively and vigorous – of them all, McGee thought that maybe he’d changed the least. He still came into NCIS one day a week to take newbies on a tour of Autopsy, or look over Palmer's shoulder and comment on his work while regaling him with various long and sometimes improbable anecdotes. Jimmy didn't seem to mind – everyone loved Ducky and they all enjoyed having him around, even if it was just for one day a week.

"So – what's going on?" Gibbs asked, stirring his coffee. His hair was now completely silver, but his blue eyes were as sharp and formidable as ever. Retirement – or maybe it was looking after Louis - suited him. He looked more relaxed these days, and, if anything, he looked younger now than when he'd been at NCIS. The lines on his face were softer, and he smiled more often. He had an air of contentment about him and that was something that McGee had never seen in him before. He could still be as focussed and demanding as ever though, and whenever McGee was with him he felt he regressed to being a young probie again, even now, as a forty-something man in charge of a federal law enforcement agency.

"Tony thinks he's found one of Jonssen's lackeys, Mark Stackton, but I don't think that guy is going to talk. He's more scared of Jonssen than of Tony – even if Tony did have him up against the wall with his hand around his throat," McGee sighed. "You were right, Boss. I only just got there in time to pull him off."

"Where did he go?" Gibbs asked.

"Wherever it is he goes when he's feeling like this," McGee shrugged. "He'll be hitting something right now – the wall, the punching bag in the gym – we just have to hope it's not, you know, a person."

Gibbs grunted. "Christ. He'll be hell when he gets home."

"Do you hide the bourbon or just leave it beside his bed to get it over with?" McGee asked. It was no secret that Tony turned to drink when things got bad.

Gibbs glared at him. "He knows better than to drink in the house when Louis is around – or to come home drunk for that matter. I made that damn clear to him," he growled. McGee was glad that he hadn't been there when the two of them had had that particular conversation. "If he wants to get drunk in a bar then he can sleep it off in the office or find a hotel room," Gibbs added.

"I just had a conversation with Agent Morris and it got me to thinking…" McGee said, and then he paused. Gibbs took a sip of his coffee. McGee hesitated.

"Well spit it out, McGee," Gibbs ordered.

"Do you think we're doing the right thing?" McGee asked anxiously. "I mean, we rush around after him, we cover for him, we smooth things over for him - maybe we shouldn't."

"What's the alternative?" Gibbs asked.

"I don't know. I just feel, sometimes, like we're his enablers or something," McGee sighed. "I mean – you look after Louis for him and I protect him at NCIS. We all make it possible for him to carry on being like this."

"No." Gibbs shook his head. "We do what we have to do, Tim."

"Well, with all due respect, Boss, I do sometimes wonder if either of us thinks objectively about this situation. I mean…Abby meant the world to both of us, and you…" He broke off. Gibbs glared at him.

"Say it," he ordered.

"Well, you empathise with him too much, Boss!" McGee said forcefully. "You know you do! Your wife was killed too and you know how that feels so you cut him a lot of slack because of that."

"You think that's it?" Gibbs shook his head. "Yeah – I know what it's like, Tim. I know how he feels every single damn day he gets up, and yeah, I do put myself in his place. I do wonder how I'd feel if I hadn't put a half dozen bullets through the bastard that killed Shannon and Kelly. At least I got some kind of – what's the fancy word they use for it? Closure? Yeah, I got that and Tony hasn't, and I do understand what drives him, and why he's so obsessed with getting Jonssen."

"And all this time Louis is growing up and Tony hardly sees him!" McGee said, in a heated voice. "Maybe, if we made Tony face up to reality, he'd get his priorities right and realise he has a son who needs him and his revenge isn't as important as that poor kid over there." McGee glanced over to where Louis was hanging from some monkey bars.

"You think that if we stepped back that's what'd happen?" Gibbs asked, in a tone of disbelief.

"It might!" McGee protested.

"No." Gibbs shook his head. "Tony's father died a couple of years ago, Tim – did you know that?" he asked.

"I was vaguely aware of it. What does that have to do with anything? I know he and Tony weren't close."

"He left Tony a fortune," Gibbs told him. "And I mean a serious fortune. Tony doesn't have to work ever again if he doesn't want to, and if I said I wasn't going to look after Louis any more, I know that Tony would just hire someone to take care of the kid and I *won't* let that happen, not to Abby's son. You tell him you're not covering for him at NCIS, and he'll just go off on his own, follow up his own leads, outside the law, and end up either dead or behind bars for the rest of his life."

McGee gazed at him, aghast.

"We do what we have to do to keep Tony contained, to try and help as best we can, to stop this mess getting any messier, and, hopefully, to keep Louis's dad alive for long enough for the kid to at least have his dad around, even if he's not in his life as much as we'd like. We lost Kate, and Ziva, and Abby. We're not damn well losing Tony too," Gibbs said firmly.

"What if we screw up though?" McGee said quietly. "Tony is out of control, Gibbs – you know it and I know it. One of these days he *will* get himself killed. I'm sure of it."

"He's not out of control," Gibbs said firmly. McGee glanced up at him sharply. "Not yet anyway, and I won't let it happen," Gibbs snapped. "You're right though – he's close to it and he needs a few slaps upside the head. You keep him tethered at the office and I'll slap some sense into him at home. Between us we'll contain him. That's the best we can hope to do though – because unless he finds Jonssen and either kills him or puts him behind bars, I can't see him changing."

"And what if he does?" McGee asked. "What happens after?"

Gibbs sat back in his seat, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

"Don't say you haven't thought about it," McGee hissed. "What is he after the burning desire for revenge has gone? *Who* is he? Do we get Tony back? The old Tony? Or does he not have anything to live for any more?"

"He's got Louis," Gibbs stated firmly.

"He hardly spends any time with the kid! To all intents and purposes you're Louis's dad. You've raised him."

"I wanted to," Gibbs said softly, and McGee knew that and he knew why. Gibbs was great with kids – always had been – and while McGee knew that Louis was in no way a substitute for Kelly, the little boy did fill a least some of the gap that her loss had left in Gibbs's life. McGee was glad of that – Louis adored his "Boss" and Gibbs loved the child with all his heart in return, but Gibbs wasn't Louis's father – Tony was.

"I know," McGee said. "I know, Boss, but I'm just saying – I don't know how much longer we can all keep doing this. Something has to give."

"I'll talk to Tony," Gibbs said grimly, and McGee grimaced at his tone. He wouldn't want to be in Tony's shoes when Gibbs got hold of him. "We'll do what we have to do, Tim," Gibbs told him. "To keep Tony safe. We'll do whatever it takes."

"Even if he hates us for it?" McGee asked.

Gibbs gave him a terse grin. "Hell, if he doesn't hate us for it then we aren't doing it right!"

At that moment they were interrupted by a squeal, and they looked around to see Ducky kneeling in front of Louis, showing him a magic trick that was clearly delighting the small boy. He giggled and then launched himself at Ducky, throwing his arms around his neck and giving him a big hug. The way he moved was so familiar that it made McGee's throat constrict. He looked at Gibbs to see him looking at Louis in the exact same way.

"I still miss her so much," McGee murmured.

Gibbs cleared his throat and finished his coffee in one gulp. "Yeah. That's why we have to do our best for that boy over there," he said grimly.

"I suppose there's one good thing in all this," McGee mused, watching as Ducky got to his feet and held out his hand to Louis.

"Which is?" Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"That Louis takes after Abby and not Tony," McGee grinned. "Because otherwise you really would have your hands full, Boss!"

Gibbs managed a little chuckle at that, and they both turned as Ducky and Louis reached the table.

"It's your turn to amuse our young friend now I think, Uncle Timothy," Ducky said, with a meaningful smile in McGee's direction. Louis was great fun but he had the combined energy of both Abby and Tony, who were two of the most high-octane people McGee had ever known, and that made the child exhausting company sometimes.

"You're a hard act to follow, Ducky," McGee complained, reaching out to tickle Louis and pulling a mock-scary face at the same time. The little boy immediately dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Ducky took his seat at the table. "I take it we have more problems with our mutual friend?" he murmured to Gibbs, with a glance at Louis to make sure he hadn't picked up on who they were talking about. The child threw himself at McGee who picked him up and hung him upside down so that his soft dark hair brushed the ground.

"Yeah." Gibbs nodded. "He's got a lead on Jonssen."

"Another one?" Ducky sighed. "I wish he'd just let it go."

"He can't, Duck, and I can understand that," Gibbs said.

"But you've seen what he gets like whenever this happens. It's not good for him – for any of us," Ducky said. "I remember the last time – he drank himself into the ground for weeks, and then there were all those mysterious injuries he sustained and which he made me treat." He gave a little wince. "All those bruised knuckles and black eyes – either from bar fights or over-zealous, work-related encounters. It was all very dispiriting."

"Like I said – we're his enablers," McGee muttered. He flipped Louis back onto his feet and sat down at the table again.

"McGee isn't sure we go about this the right way," Gibbs explained to Ducky. "But I don't think we have a choice."

"Well, Jethro, he long since stopped listening to me I'm afraid – and, I'm sorry to say this, Timothy but I don't think he listens to you, either. That just leaves you, Jethro. Now he *does* still listen to you."

"I know," Gibbs snapped. "I've told McGee that I'll have a word with him."

"Who are you talking about?" Louis asked, curiously.

"A friend of ours, my dear Louis," Ducky told him, brushing his untidy dark hair into a semblance of neatness with his hand.

"Is he okay?" Louis asked. "Your friend? Why are you all talking about him in whispers? Is he dead?"

McGee gave a little laugh. Louis had a kind of morbid fascination with death, although he didn't really understand it. Maybe that was just his mom coming out in him again.

"No he isn't dead, Louis," Ducky replied gently. "He's just…lost his way."

"He's lost?" Louis's eyes glowed anxiously. "You have to find him! I got lost last week – in the shopping mall. I was really scared. A nice lady found me and they called for Boss over the loudspeaker thing."

"I only turned my back for a second," Gibbs grunted. "I hate shopping malls. Although I did tell you to stick close by as there were so many people there that day," he said to the child. Louis nodded.

"I know. Boss yelled at me and hugged me a lot when he found me," Louis said. "He said I scared him but I was scared too when I couldn't find him. I was really scared."

He bit on his lip, gazing at Gibbs, and then put his arms up, looking upset by the memory. Gibbs lifted him up onto his knee obligingly and kissed his hair. That seemed to reassure Louis because he stuck his finger happily in what remained of his now melted ice-cream.

"I told Boss I got lost because I saw a puppy and went to stroke her. I want a puppy," he said wistfully, sucking the ice-cream off his finger. Gibbs raised his eyes heavenward and McGee wondered how many times Louis had been asking him for one since that day in the mall.

"McGee! Where the hell are you hiding, McGee?" a loud voice rang out from the back door of the restaurant. They all looked up, in surprise, to see Tony striding towards them.

"Daddy!" Louis scrambled off Gibbs's lap and charged over to him but Tony brushed him aside without even looking at him, almost knocking the child over in the process.

"You put security on the damn door? Security? To keep *me* out?" Tony shouted, looking as if he was about to explode.

"Oh hell," McGee muttered under his breath. "Here it comes." He stood up. "You weren't in control of your temper back there, Tony – you're not in control of it now, either, by the look of it," he pointed out. "I don't want anyone dying in our custody."

"I wasn't going to kill him. I was trying to scare him!" Tony growled. Louis shrank back against Gibbs and McGee winced – the last thing any of them wanted was for Louis to see Tony in one of his rages.

Gibbs got up, and handed Louis to Ducky.

"Duck – please take Louis to the restroom. Tony and I are going to have a little talk."

"No we're not – McGee and I are going to go back to NCIS where he is going to call off his security detail so I can do my job," Tony seethed.

"Shut up and sit down," Gibbs said, in a low, dangerous tone. Louis's eyes widened. Ducky took the child's hand and led him away.

Tony glared at both Gibbs and McGee but McGee held his ground, staring Tony out.

"I said, sit down, Tony," Gibbs growled. "Don't make me say it again." Tony looked as if he was about to go off like a firework. His body was tense and his eyes dark, flashing angry sparks at them both. Gibbs put a hand on his shoulder. "Easy," he said softly. The effect was instantaneous, and, McGee thought, a little surprising. Tony inhaled sharply, and then, with a glare at McGee, he sat. McGee relaxed.

"Go wait over there," Gibbs said to McGee, gesturing with his head towards the doorway. "I'll handle this." McGee turned and went to stand by the door, waiting for Ducky and Louis to return from the restroom.

He glanced back at the table. Tony was sitting down, facing him, every muscle in his body still screaming his rage. Gibbs was standing behind him, both his hands on Tony's shoulders, clamping down tight and talking into his ear in a low, urgent voice.

"I don't give a damn who you've found – don't ever talk like that in front of Louis again. He doesn't need to see you like that. And I don't care how angry you are - you damn near knocked him over when you charged in here and there's no excuse for that."

"McGee is behaving like an idiot. Carter won't get what we need from Stackton. I need to talk to him again!" Tony protested angrily.

"According to McGee, last time you talked to him you nearly choked him."

"Well, I've calmed down now."

"I can see that." Gibbs's tone was so dry that McGee couldn't help but smile. Gibbs squeezed Tony's shoulder, and McGee was surprised to see Tony's anger evaporate visibly. His entire body seemed to deflate, and he glanced up at Gibbs with a desperate, pleading expression in his eyes.

"I need to speak to Stackton, Boss," he said in a quieter voice.

"I know – but it's Tim's call. He's in charge, Tony. And he's not going to agree to it if you keep yelling at him. You might want to think about making nice instead."

"When did you ever make nice to anyone?" Tony muttered. Gibbs slapped the back of his head.

"When I had to," he growled.

Then he sat down beside him, sliding one arm around his shoulders as he sat, keeping in continuous physical contact with Tony. He leaned in close and whispered something straight into Tony's ear. McGee watched, frowning, wondering what was going on here. Tony listened though – he and Ducky had been right about that; Tony was listening to Gibbs, even if he wouldn't listen to them. As Gibbs spoke he moved his hand, stroking Tony's shoulder insistently the entire time. McGee was aware that he was watching a master class in bringing Tony down, and he wished he knew what the trick was.

"Yes?" Gibbs said, drawing back a little. "Can you do that?"

Tony bit on his lip, and then, eventually, he sighed. "Okay. I'll try," he muttered.

"Good boy." Gibbs moved his hand and ruffled Tony's hair as if he was Louis and not a grown man in his forties.

At that moment Louis and Ducky emerged from the restroom and came over to where McGee was sitting.

"Are Daddy and Boss still fighting?" Louis asked McGee anxiously.

"I don't think so. And they weren't really fighting earlier, Louis. They were just…talking loudly," McGee told the little boy, hauling him onto his lap and cuddling him. Louis was a great cuddler and he nestled in close, reaching out to play with McGee's tie in a distracted way, still keeping one eye on his father and Gibbs.

"Why was Daddy mad with you?" Louis asked, his eyes still worried despite the reassurance of the cuddle. Like his mother, he hated it when the people he loved were on bad terms with each other.

"I did something that upset him but it's going to be okay. It's kind of like when you ran after that puppy at the mall last week and Boss was mad with you," McGee said. "It was okay after though, wasn't it? Boss hugged you and it was okay."

"Yes." Louis nodded solemnly. "Will you hug Daddy?"

"Maybe not," McGee grinned. "I don't think your dad likes being hugged that much."

"Boss hugs him and he likes that," Louis said.

McGee frowned. He'd never really thought much about the day-to-day lives Gibbs and Tony must lead, living under the same roof with Louis, even if Tony did seem to spend every waking hour at the office. Gibbs had never exactly been a huggy kind of man though – only Abby had ever really been able to give him hugs. He couldn't exactly see him hugging Tony so maybe Louis had got that wrong. He glanced back at the table, to see that Gibbs had moved his arm back so that it was around Tony's shoulder again, and had pulled him close and was talking to him, saying something McGee couldn't hear in soft but firm tones. So maybe Louis hadn't got that wrong after all, he thought, with some surprise.

"Me and Boss play a game – we try and make Daddy smile," Louis told him. "When it works we high five – but Daddy mustn't see us doing that," he added with a grin. "It's cheating if I hug or kiss Daddy or Boss hugs or kisses him though because that always makes him smile."

McGee frowned, and glanced up at Ducky, who raised an intrigued eyebrow at him. McGee thought he was seeing a whole new side to whatever domestic arrangement Tony and Gibbs had going on between them.

"Well, trust me – your dad definitely wouldn't smile if I hugged him right now," he told Louis.

"I don't like it when Boss and Daddy yell at each other," Louis confided. "When I went to my friend Nathan's house his mom and dad yelled at each other the whole time. I hated that. I'm glad Boss and Daddy don't do that."

McGee chuckled to himself at the likeness Louis was drawing between what he clearly saw as the dynamics of two different sets of married couples. Then he glanced back at Tony and Gibbs again. As he watched, Gibbs pulled Tony over, pressed a kiss to the side of his head, and then released him with a little push and a grin. Tony shot him an oddly affectionate smile in return, and Louis laughed.

"See – there – Boss cheated!" he said. "He always cheats!"

"I can see that," McGee murmured with another puzzled glance at Ducky. He wouldn't have said that this was normal behaviour for either Gibbs or Tony but then, as he'd told Agent Morris earlier, a lot of things had changed over the past few years.

Tony got up and walked over to where they were sitting. McGee braced himself, but Tony's earlier towering rage had dissipated, although that darkness was still there, in his eyes. Whenever Tony got a lead on Jonssen that obsessive darkness always came back. He just hoped Ducky hadn't been right earlier about the drinking and bar fights. It was hard enough handling Tony when he was sober.

Tony gave McGee a grudging nod and then crouched down in front of him, so he was at eye level with Louis.

"Hey, Lou. Look - Boss just told me I was kind of mean to you when I pushed past you earlier. I'm sorry about that. So…why don't you, me and Boss head out for the park and throw a ball around?" he suggested. "That's if Uncle Tim will give me the afternoon off?" he asked, glancing up at McGee. Louis glanced up too, his eyes alight with hopeful happiness at the thought of spending an entire afternoon with his father.

"Tony – you have about three months vacation time stacked up. I'd be delighted if you took the afternoon off," McGee replied. "So would your team I suspect. I think we'd all enjoy the peace and quiet."

"Okay then." Tony nodded. He stood up and looked McGee in the eye, his expression a little shame-faced. "When Carter's done with Stackton, and we've gone over the tapes, will you let me interrogate him again, Probie?" he asked.

"Only if I'm there with you," McGee replied firmly. "So the security detail stays on the door until I'm ready to go in there with you – and I'll need to know exactly what angle you're going to take with this, Tony, because right now we're holding a man on suspicion of working for someone you don't like very much – and that's not actually illegal."

"Should be," Tony grinned.

McGee grunted. "And Carter might do better than you think with him, Tony. He's a good agent."

"I've taught him well," Tony replied, with an offhand shrug.

"Yeah – and he's desperate to impress you so maybe he'll have something for us if we let him do his thing."

"He's desperate to impress me?" Tony raised an eyebrow. McGee rolled his eyes.

"They all are, Tony, but yeah, him in particular. He reminds me a lot of you – and of how you used to be, around Gibbs, back in the old days."

Tony's jaw tightened - he always got antsy whenever McGee reminded him of the old days.

"They're nothing like us," he snapped.

"Yeah – they are – they're good people," McGee told him. "You should try letting them in, Tony. Treat them like a proper team – the way Gibbs did with us."

"The way Gibbs *sometimes* did with us," Tony commented sourly, with a glance in Gibbs's direction as he walked towards them.

"The way I sometimes did what?" Gibbs asked. Tony grinned at him.

"Nothing, Boss! Come on, Louis - let's wait outside while Boss gets the check."

He swung Louis up and hauled the kid easily onto his broad shoulders. Louis squealed with delight and held onto Tony's hair, making Tony grimace theatrically. Ducky went ahead and opened the door for them and McGee watched them go.

"Looks like you worked some magic there, Boss," he said to Gibbs as they went into the main interior of restaurant and over to the bar to pay the check. Gibbs got out his wallet, and fished out some twenty dollar bills.

"It's like putting a band-aid on a gunshot wound," he muttered. "He’s still a bomb waiting to go off. Do *not* let him interview Stackton alone," he added, glancing at Tony's disappearing back, Louis perched atop his shoulders, laughing as they went.

"I had no intention of it," McGee replied grimly. "I already told him that."

They both waited, and McGee gazed up at the TV screen above the bar as the waitress dealt with the check and handed Gibbs his change.

"Heh – looks like it passed." McGee pointed to the rolling news at the bottom of the screen. Gibbs glanced up as he put some quarters back in his wallet. "The gay marriage thing," McGee added. "So gay marriage is now legal in the state of Virginia - about time too." Not that it affected him, but he had some gay friends living nearby and he had always thought it was stupid that marriage was a right denied to them.

"No idea why *anyone* thinks marriage is a good idea, gay or straight," Gibbs grunted.

"So it's not something you'll attempt again?" McGee asked, as they left the restaurant.

Gibbs laughed. "Only if I lose my wits," he said. "And if I do, you have my permission to shoot me."

McGee grinned back at him - and Gibbs reached out and touched his arm. "What about you, Tim?" he asked. "The years are passing. Hell, I'd been married three times by the time I was your age but you've never tried it once."

"Oh well…I just never met the right girl," McGee replied, feeling himself flush. "Or…I met her but she married someone else."

Gibbs gazed at him steadily.

"And then…you know, got herself killed and left us all with a kid to look after," McGee added, with a wry, self-deprecating grin. Gibbs nodded, and slapped his shoulder gently.

"It's been a long time. Maybe you need to start looking for someone else?" he suggested.

"Like Tony has?" McGee asked. "He used to date a different woman every night of the damn week but there's been nobody for him since Abby."

Gibbs gave him a searching look. "Tony's circumstances are different. As for Abby - I know you both loved her but she made her choice. Look, Tim, you're one of the youngest directors NCIS has ever had and you're doing a great job over there – I always knew your career would be on the fast track. You were just too damn bright and too damn good at your job not to make it to where you are right now. But…there are other things in life besides work you know."

McGee laughed out loud. "Is that really Leroy Jethro Gibbs I hear giving me that advice?" he asked. "The same Leroy Jethro Gibbs who never arrived at work after 08:00, or left before 21:00?"

Gibbs gave him a tight little smile. "Yeah, well, maybe looking after Louis these past few years has given me a different perspective," he said. "You going back to the office now?"

"Yes. Strange as it may seem I have more to do as Director of NCIS than run around after Tony DiNozzo all day long. I have a whole stack of paperwork to deal with and a meeting with SECNAV later. I also want to take a look at what Carter has got out of Stackton before Tony comes charging back in," he said.

"Okay. I'll try and keep him out of your hair for as long as I can," Gibbs promised, and then he patted McGee's arm again and strode off after Tony and Ducky.


McGee spent several hours trying to clear at least some of the paperwork that had built up on his desk as a result of his wasted morning, and then he spent the rest of the day and most of the evening in a long, tiring meeting with SECNAV.

The new SECNAV had only been in the job for a few months and she was a hard-nosed kind of woman, keen to stamp her mark on her new post. McGee was good at his job and had an excellent memory so he was able to keep up with her habit of barking unrelated questions at him and expecting a thorough answer – frankly, an apprenticeship with Gibbs had left him easily able to cope with even the toughest boss. All the same, he was tired and had a splitting headache by the time he returned to the office. It was nearly 10pm and he knew there was no way he’d be getting home before midnight.

His assistant was long gone, and he unlocked the door to his office with a relieved sigh, grateful for the peace and quiet, and then, without turning on the light, he headed over to his desk to find the stash of Advil he kept in his top drawer. He opened the packet, knocked two into the palm of his hand and then looked around for the bottle of water he usually kept on his desk.

“Want to wash them down with this?” a voice drawled and he jumped, startled, and snapped on the desk lamp to see Tony sitting on his couch, legs up on his coffee table, holding up a glass of bourbon - *his* bourbon. The bottle was open on the table in front of him – as was the door of McGee’s wet bar in the corner. McGee felt his jaw tighten – he’d taken enough crap from Tony today and was in no mood, after a long day and with his thundering headache, to take any more.

“Tony, what the hell are you doing here?” he growled.

“I often come up here when you’re tucked up at home in bed, McGeek,” Tony told him. “You keep the best liquor.”

“How the hell did you get in here? The office door is kept locked,” McGee snapped.

Tony just looked at him as if he’d said something really stupid, which he had; they both knew that Tony could pick just about any lock if he put his mind to it – a trick he’d learned from Gibbs and Ziva.

McGee sighed. “You come here and drink my whisky – seriously?”

“No, mostly I come here and spend the night on your couch,” Tony replied. “That’s usually after I’ve been drinking although it sure as hell helps knowing that I can get a refill if I need one – that’s an extensive collection of liquor you’ve got there, Probie. Didn’t even know you liked to drink.”

“I don’t,” McGee muttered, going over to the table and grabbing the glass of bourbon out of Tony’s hand. “I keep it to offer to visitors.”

He threw both Advil into his mouth and took a deep swallow of the bourbon, making a face as it burned his throat on the way down. Tony held out his hand to have the glass back. McGee glared at him.

“Hey – you said you keep it for visitors. *I’m* a visitor,” Tony said.

“No, right now you’re a trespasser. You broke into my damn office, Tony!” McGee snapped. “Why the hell are you here anyway?”

“Can’t go home. Too drunk. Didn’t know you’d be coming back,” Tony said. “Besides, I want to be here first thing tomorrow to interview Stackton.”

“I authorised him to be put in the cells overnight,” McGee told him. “And it is not a given that I’ll let you interview him first thing tomorrow, Tony. I want some time to review the interrogation file first – and the pretty damn paltry paperwork you filed detailing his supposed ‘crime’.”

“He can lead us to Jonssen – I know it,” Tony said mulishly.

“Maybe – or maybe he’s another of your dead ends,” McGee said tersely. Tony’s expression darkened. “Either way, I have some work to do – and you are in the way.”

“Nah. I’ll just lie here…” Tony swiped the glass from McGee’s hand and downed the rest of the contents in one gulp. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

McGee thought about it, but he really didn’t like the idea of a drunk Tony DiNozzo snoring his head off on his couch all night. He also wasn’t sure what Tony might look at while he was in here – although he was pretty sure he’d have already looked through Carter’s interrogation report which he’d asked to be left on his desk. All the same, Tony had clearly spent some time in a bar this evening and McGee wasn’t sure he was in any fit state to find a hotel room. He could put him in a taxi and send him home but…

“Gibbs won’t let you in the house if you’re drunk, will he?” he asked, remembering what Gibbs had told him earlier, in the restaurant. Tony pulled a face.

“Nah. He’ll just throw my sorry ass out again if I go home like this. Doesn’t want Louis to see his dad stinking drunk.” He poured some more bourbon into his glass, and then threw his head back and took a long gulp. “He’s right,” he slurred. “Used to see my dad drunk all the time when I wasn’t any older than Lou. Had to put him to bed myself some nights later on. Never was a night he went to bed sober. Glad Louis’s got someone looking out for him.”

McGee sighed. He wished Tony had had someone like Gibbs looking out for *him* when he’d been a kid – maybe, if he had, he wouldn’t be so hard to handle right now.

“You’re pissed off with me,” Tony said. “I can tell.” He didn’t seem bothered by it. In fact he just held up the glass again, said “cheers’”, and downed the rest of the bourbon in one gulp. McGee fought back a wave of irritation.

“Yes, I’m pissed off with you, Tony,” he said.

Tony belched, loudly, grinned at him stupidly, and then reached for the bottle. He fumbled with it, still grinning inanely, and something about his drunken stupor annoyed McGee beyond belief. It had been a long day, and his anger spilled out. He grabbed the glass out of Tony’s hand and threw it across the room where it smashed against the opposite wall and shattered into pieces, leaving a big stain on the wallpaper.

“Oops,” Tony said.

“Fuck it, Tony!” McGee yelled, losing control of his temper. “You drive me fucking insane! I’ve had it with you! Yes, you lost Abby but we all did and we’re not all getting drunk the whole time. You don’t fucking understand what you’ve *got*, and you’re throwing it all away, chasing after revenge and oblivion and…and…the fucking *darkness* rather than just sucking it up and getting on with it, like the rest of us are doing. Do you see Gibbs drinking himself stupid every night of the week, huh? Or me? We lost them too! We all lost Kate, and Ziva, and Abby – not just you!”

“Aw. You’re angry. Wanna hit me, Timmy?” Tony said, pointing at his already bruised jaw. “Go ahead. Go on. I’ll give you the first one for free.” His eyes sparkled dangerously and McGee knew he was relishing the thought of a fight.

“No I don’t want to fucking hit you! I want to shake you!” McGee shouted.

Tony grinned at him, a dark, hostile grin, and reached across the coffee table for the bottle of bourbon. For some reason that irritated McGee and he launched himself over the table to get to the bottle first and remove it from Tony’s reach. Tony shoved him out of the way and McGee shoved him back – hard - harder than he’d intended. Tony took a clumsy swing at him, catching McGee unawares, and connected a feeble blow to McGee’s midriff. In sheer exasperation, McGee lashed out and landed a swinging punch to Tony’s mouth. Tony fell off the couch and onto the floor with an almighty crash where he lay, giggling inanely, his lip cut and bleeding.

“Tony…shit…” McGee felt angry with himself for allowing Tony to get to him. He moved towards him and then, a second later, found himself flying through the air as Tony kicked his ankles out from under him. He ended up banging his head against the coffee table and lay there on his ass, gazing blearily at Tony who was gazing back at him with a twisted grin on his face. “I fucking hate you, Tony,” he said.

“Yeah. I know.” Tony shrugged.

“You’re such a bastard. I loved her too, Tony. I loved Abby – but she chose *you*. Have you any idea what it was like to stand by and watch the two of you…”

He closed his eyes shut tightly. He’d loved Abby for years, ever since he first met her. They’d dated for awhile, many years ago, but she’d never been as into him as he was into her. She’d let him down gently, but she was so nice that he'd mistaken that for meaning that he still had a chance with her. Maybe he’d just never listened to the messages she kept giving him that it was never going to happen between them. In his head he’d just always assumed that it *would*.

Tony, meanwhile, had pursued his life of endless bachelorhood with his usual gusto – punctuated only by meaningful glances at and a low-level flirtation with Ziva. McGee had never been entirely sure what was between them but he knew they were close, and he suspected that at some point the relationship ended up in the bedroom. He hadn’t been all that interested – he was too fixated on Abby, and on his certainty that they’d one day end up together and all he had to do was hang on in there until she woke up to that certainty too.

Then Ziva had been killed on that horrible, long, endless day and they’d spent hours freeing Tony from the collapsed building where he was trapped. Gibbs had paced around like an angry, caged tiger, yelling at anyone who came near him. At that point he hadn’t known which of his agents was dead and which alive; they had body temperature readings that *someone* was still alive in there, but they didn’t know who. McGee often wondered whether Gibbs was relieved or disappointed that it was Tony. He’d known Tony the longest of all of them and the two men had always had some kind of weird bond, but Ziva was a woman and Gibbs had some old-fashioned views about the women under his command.

Tony had been half dead when they finally dragged him out, and Gibbs…well, it was as if someone had turned back the clock to when Kate had been killed – only worse. Tony was in the hospital for weeks – he had more broken bones than McGee could count, and it had been touch and go whether they’d save his left arm. He’d been left with terrible scarring there but even worse than that was the fact that the light seemed to have gone out of him.

When McGee visited him in the hospital he found him subdued, unable to make his usual stupid jokes, and prone to obsessing about those few hours leading up to the bomb blast and if they could have done anything differently. What he never talked about, to McGee at least, were those dark hours he’d spent trapped in that burned out building, with bits of Ziva’s body all around him, knowing she was dead and trying to come to terms with that as he lay there badly injured.

That was the first time McGee had witnessed the dark well of anger inside of Tony that he’d since become all too familiar with. Looking back, he thought that maybe that was when Tony had begun to change, although none of them had been aware of it at the time. The only people he had responded to, in those first few weeks after the bomb blast, were Gibbs and Abby.

Gibbs visited him whenever he could tear himself away from tracking down the people who’d killed Ziva and putting several bullets in them, the way he’d done with Ari, and with the man who’d killed his family. Abby went to see Tony every day though – and McGee realised for the first time that she and Tony had a strange bond that went way back, to a time long before he'd joined NCIS. They had both always had a certain childlike quality to them – or just plain childish in Tony’s case – and now they clung to each other like children. At first he’d dismissed their growing closeness as just her warm heart reaching out to his obvious distress, but it had slowly dawned on him that it was turning into something more than that.

When he finally confronted her about it they had a big argument – largely his fault he thought, in retrospect.

“You’re sleeping with Tony?” he accused after finding out that she’d spent every night since Tony’s release from the hospital at his apartment. “Tony? For god’s sake, Abby! How long do you think that’ll last? Tony’s incapable of loving any woman for longer than a month!”

“Don’t be an idiot, McGee,” she said, her face looking strained and taut. “Me and Tony…well, it was kind of always going to happen. It just had to wait until we both grew up a bit.”

“What? What do you mean *always* going to happen?” he asked, totally mystified. “Since when?”

“Since we first met.” She shrugged. “We both knew we’d get around to it one day.”

He just stared at her, totally and utterly unable to get his head around what she was saying.

“We just had to walk on the wild side a bit first,” she added with a grin. “Both of us. Him and all his girlies, and me and all my crazies. Now we’re done with that. We’re kind of getting a bit too old for it as well. It’s okay to sleep in a coffin and make out with vampire wannabes when you’re in your twenties, but it gets totally uncool when you’re heading past 35.”

“I think you’re both completely insane,” he told her.

“McGee,” she said softly, patting his arm. “Don’t be like this. You and me – that was a long time ago, and Tony needs me right now. I have to be there for him.”

“Well don’t come running to me when it ends in tears – and it will.”

“Hey.” She pulled him into a big hug and he hung there stiffly, until finally it was too much for him and he gave in, and surrendered. It was always impossible to hold out against Abby for long. “I’ll always love you, Timmy. You know that,” she whispered in his ear.

He did know that, but it hadn’t made it any easier. He had been wrong about her relationship with Tony ending in tears as well. It hadn’t. In fact, they’d been obviously and deliriously happy for a couple of years, and McGee had been forced to suck it up, and learn how to live with it. He’d been the best man at their wedding, even though it had hurt to stand there and watch Gibbs walk Abby down the aisle in a black silk dress and deliver her up to Tony of all people.

Tony had never hurt her though, the way McGee had thought he would – although he was pretty sure that Gibbs had taken Tony to one side and promised to break all the *other* bones in his body if he ever hurt his beloved Abby. Whether it was because of that, or whether it was because he'd just finally grown up, Tony clearly doted on her and never looked at another woman from the minute they got together. Abby just as clearly adored Tony and was as happy as McGee had ever seen her, and, in time, he had grudgingly had to admit, to himself at least, that he’d been wrong, and somehow this most unlikely of couples worked - which made it all the more devastating when Abby had been killed.

“Here, Probie, if you’re going to go getting all dark and maudlin on me then you’ll need this,” Tony said, snapping him back to the present, handing him the bottle of bourbon. McGee took it, threw his head back, and took a deep gulp of the fiery liquid.

Tony laid back against the couch, blood seeping out of his split lip and running down his chin.

“She wasn’t even supposed to be here that day,” McGee muttered, taking another deep slug of the bourbon. “She was still on maternity leave but her replacement just wasn't as good, and couldn’t get the forensics to pan out, and she had dropped into the office with Louis and I mentioned it to her…I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You didn’t know, Probie,” Tony sighed.

“But it’s always stayed with me!” McGee said savagely, staring at the bottle of bourbon in his hands. “If I hadn’t asked for her help…”

“She was the best - of course you asked her, Probie,” Tony said softly. “Besides, you weren’t Director then so it’s not like you ordered her to help out. She wanted to.”

“I know. I know.” McGee shook his head, took another gulp of bourbon, and handed the bottle to Tony, who took it with a twisted little smile.

“I could have stopped her too,” Tony said. “I was senior agent and you and she were both on my team. Hell, we all could have stopped her but there was no reason to think anything would happen to her.”

McGee remembered how they’d all looked after Louis together in the squad room while Abby worked in her lab for a few days. It had been such a great time – the first time since Ziva had died that he felt they’d all pulled together as a team again, and it had started to feel like it used to, back in the old days. Of course, looking back, he realised that was the last time he’d felt that way. A few days later Abby had been killed inside her own lab – and all the evidence she’d been working on had been destroyed as well.

Jonssen had walked free and then fled immediately, before he could be called in for more questioning on a number of outstanding unsolved crimes he was linked to, and Tony had made it his life’s work ever since to track the bastard down. It wasn’t a goal that McGee was unsympathetic to – they all wanted to catch Abby’s killer. He was pretty sure that Gibbs would have been the first in line for that particular crusade if it hadn’t been for Louis. Someone had to take care of the baby, and Tony had been a wreck for several months. Gibbs had just assumed the responsibility with typical efficiency and lack of fanfare.

McGee watched Tony take a slug of bourbon and then hand the bottle back to him. Tony’s back was against the couch, while McGee was propped up against the coffee table. His head hurt and he could feel a little trickle of blood seeping out of the cut on the side of his forehead. Tony looked even worse – the split lip McGee had given him just adding to his other facial injuries from earlier in the day, giving him a battered look.

“I’m sorry I hit you, Tony,” McGee said.

“Nah – I deserved it.” Tony shrugged. “I’m sorry I tripped you – you’ve been a good friend to me, Tim. And I know how you felt about Abby. I guess we all felt that way. I know it’s not just me who…I know you all miss her too. I just can’t…” His hands curled up into fists. “I can’t stop myself, Tim – you know that.”

“Yeah. I know,” McGee sighed. He glanced at the stained wall and the shattered shards of glass all over the floor. “Shit. I should clear this up before Gary comes in tomorrow.”

“McGee! You’re the goddamned director!” Tony laughed. “Who the hell cares if your assistant sees a broken glass? Maybe he’ll just figure you had a good night for once, McAll-work-and-no-play.”

“Someone has to keep this place running.”

“Well, it’s not my idea of fun. I’m glad I turned the job down.” Tony grinned at him provocatively.

“Tony! They never asked you!”

“They would have if I’d been interested,” Tony said with a wink.

“Tony – you were being investigated by the FBI for the what – seventh time? - when the job became vacant. Trust me; you weren’t even on the list!”

“Sixth,” Tony said, with a wounded pout. “Also, the first few times weren’t my fault – first time it was Abby’s weird forensics gremlin making trouble for me. Second it was Jeanne wanting revenge for the many crimes of love I committed there.”

“Third time Gibbs covered for you,” McGee said.

“Yeah. And the fourth,” Tony agreed.

“And the fifth time *I* covered for you,” McGee pointed out.

“Yeah.” Tony grinned. “Thanks for that, Probie.”

“And the sixth time Agent Sacks took pity on you,” McGee sighed. “You’re lucky that way, Tony.”

“Don’t want anyone’s pity, Probie,” Tony said, taking back the bourbon from McGee. McGee thought that although Tony had several hours head start on him, he was catching him up fast in the being drunk on his ass stakes. “Besides, Sacks just gave in eventually to the legendary DiNozzo charm. They all do in the end – it's only a matter of time – although in his case, I grant you, a *lot* of time, but hey, the guy’s as stubborn as Fornell, may he rest in peace.”

McGee grinned, because for a moment that sounded a little like the old Tony, all monstrous exaggeration and misplaced confidence.

“Anyway, I’m just saying I *could* have made Director, although I think we both know I’d have been lousy at it. Like Gibbs would have been if they’d ever been stupid enough to offer it to him.” They both paused for a moment to shudder at that thought. “And hell, you’re a good director, Tim, better than any of the others I’ve worked for – ‘cept maybe Morrow. I liked that guy.”

McGee reached over to swipe the bottle back from him. “Nearly gone,” he complained, looking at it.

“You’ve got more in the bar.” Tony gestured with his head.

They sat there in silence for a long time, and then McGee remembered something.

“Agent Morris made a complaint about you,” he said.

Tony laughed. “Really? Took her long enough. Usually they complain about me within a week and she’s been with me for nearly three years.”

“Don’t you want to know what she complained about?” McGee asked. Tony’s eyes darkened and he shrugged.

“I know what she complained about,” he muttered.

“She thinks you pass her over for the dangerous field work,” McGee told him. Tony shrugged again. “I took a look at her case record – she’s right.”

“Yeah,” Tony replied.

“I told her why,” McGee said. Tony raised an eyebrow. “I told her she reminds you of Kate. I told her you lost Kate, Ziva and Abby and you don’t want to lose her.”

“Shouldn’t I be sitting *on* the couch if you’re gonna psychoanalyse me, McFreud?” Tony commented, gesturing over his shoulder to the couch he was slouched against.

“Am I wrong or right?” McGee asked.

“Who cares?” Tony waved a hand. “You do know she has the hots for you, right?” he said. McGee stared at him.

“Who?” he asked, frowning.

“Agent Morris. The beautiful Felicity. She lights up like a Christmas tree whenever you walk past her desk.”

“No she doesn’t. That’s just crap, Tony,” McGee growled, feeling himself flush all the same. He really didn't want to talk to Tony about his love life – or lack thereof - or his feelings for Felicity Morris, which he thought he'd done a good job of keeping hidden. He was good at unrequited love – he'd had years of experience after all.

“Would you even notice if a woman looked your way, Tim?” Tony asked him, in a quiet voice, the teasing tone gone. “Maybe you need to pull your head out of your ass, stop living in the past, and go out and get yourself laid. Might stop you being such a grouch.”

“I’m not a grouch. I’m…Agent Morris?” McGee asked, still blushing.

“She’s hot,” Tony grinned.

“I hadn’t noticed,” McGee parried, disingenuously.

“Yeah – you had.” Tony leered at him.

“Stop it, Tony – that’s disgusting. Besides, if you think she’s so hot, why haven’t you made a move on her?” he asked. “It’s not like you’re getting laid either, Tony.”

A strange expression flickered in Tony’s eyes, and he shifted uncomfortably.

“Oh my god! You are!” McGee accused. “You are getting laid. Who is she, Tony?”

“None of your business,” Tony growled. “Now are you going to get the new bottle of whisky or am I?”

McGee got up, staggered over to the bar, found another bottle of bourbon and staggered back with it. He dropped down onto the couch, opened the bottle, and took a long drink from it. It wasn’t anywhere near as fiery as the other one, he thought hazily, or maybe the back of his throat had given in and was just going with it.

“How the hell did you even find time to meet anyone?” he asked. “You’re always here, or else getting drunk somewhere – or chasing down bad guys and beating their brains out with your fists. Did someone take pity on you or something?”

“What’s with the pity theme?” Tony growled.

“Only way I can see you getting laid,” McGee grinned down at him. Tony’s shoulders hunched and he reached up and grabbed the bottle out of McGee’s hand.

“Yeah, well, now I think about it there might have been some pity involved. They sure as hell had little enough reason to want to go there otherwise.”

“*They*?” McGee queried incredulously. “There’s been more than one?”

“Just a figure of speech,” Tony muttered. “Anyway, we’re not talking about me – we’re talking about you and the delectable Fe-lee-cee-tee.” He strung out her name unnecessarily, the way he always used to do with Ziva. “She has the right background for you, McGee. She’s smart – she talks all that computer geek stuff that you talk – and she went to Harvard. And she’s classy; did you know that her friends call her Flick? Man, I swear Carter mocked her about that for three months solid when he found out. Flick?” He laughed out loud. “Like she’s a pony or something – a thoroughbred maybe?” He grinned up at McGee. “You like her, don’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter if I do or not,” McGee replied, taking the bottle back. “Rule number twelve remember?”

“Never eat beans on a stakeout?” Tony frowned, looking confused. McGee slapped the back of his head.

“Gibbs’s rules – not DiNozzo’s!” he grinned. “Rule number twelve – never date a co-worker. And in my case, as I’m director, asking her out could constitute sexual harassment.”

Tony sighed, loudly. “McGee – if you live by the rules you’ll die without getting laid ever again and that, my friend, is something I’m not gonna let happen. Hey – what about SECNAV? She’s kind of sexy in a weird, scary way – and we all know you like weird and scary.”

“Do not!” McGee protested hotly. He knew they had to both be very, very drunk because they hadn’t talked this way in years, and although he suspected they were a bit too old for it, it felt kind of nice. Like the past few years hadn’t happened and they were younger, less world-weary versions of themselves. “You’re the one who likes weird and scary, Tony, not me.”

Tony grinned up at him. “Yeah. You could be right,” he said.

McGee was sure that he replied, and that Tony said something back, but he was equally sure that they were making less and less sense, and possibly even talking total gibberish. At some point he fell asleep, sprawled out on the couch.

He woke several hours later, his face squished against the side of the couch, and stared at the familiar and yet unfamiliar-from-this-angle fabric for several minutes, wondering why he had such a terrible headache. Then he remembered, and came to with a groan. He glanced around and saw Tony, lying on his back on the floor beside the couch, his hand wrapped around the half-empty bottle of bourbon. His mouth was open and he was snoring loudly. McGee poked him with his finger.

“Shut up,” he said. He glanced at his watch to find that it was 5am. His assistant, Gary, who always got in very early, would arrive within the next hour or two, and he really didn’t want him to find his boss in this kind of a state. “Wake up, Tony,” he said, sitting up, his head thundering in protest.

“Whaaa?” Tony sat up without so much as a groan, but then his body was more used to handling a hangover.

“It’s 5am and you stink.” McGee wrinkled up his nose. “Go home, clean up, and come back. Then we’ll review Carter’s interrogation notes together.”

“I already did,” Tony said.

“And?”

“And he did okay but I know I can do better if you just shut me in a room with Stackton.”

“We tried that yesterday,” McGee told him. “Look, I’m going home to take a shower. You do the same – are you sober enough yet to drive?” He asked suspiciously. “Hell – am I? I’ll call us both a couple of drivers.” He got up, and then let out an involuntary moan as a wave of nausea shot through him. He sat back down again, and swallowed down a heave.

“Wuss. That’ll teach you to drink with the big boys,” Tony said, getting to his feet effortlessly and pulling McGee to his. McGee groaned, and stumbled over to his desk in search of the Advil. He held the packet up to Tony who just grinned and shook his head.

“I’ll see you back here at seven, Probie,” Tony said, in a loud and unnaturally cheerful voice as he headed for the door. McGee winced, the noise assaulting him in his current fragile state. He swallowed the Advil with a sigh, and then called for a driver to take him home.

End of Part Two
Ten Years On - Part Three