Ducky hummed quietly to himself as he walked into the morgue. He cursed when he realized the tune he was humming was the Jeopardy theme song. After months without watching it, his mother was once more obsessed with the game show. It wouldn’t be so bad, Ducky mused to himself, if she didn’t watch the same episode over and over. When the show challenged him, Ducky hadn’t minded it much. But now he knew all the answers it was boring, and he had come to think of it as just so much background noise. Ducky shook his head. Clearly the show had burrowed more deeply into his psyche than he’d realized if he was unconsciously humming the theme song.
“I think a cup of tea is in order.”
He had a cup every morning, whenever his schedule allowed for it. And today, he could definitely use some fortification. Ducky shook his head. Maybe tonight his mother would at least be willing to watch a new episode.
Ducky put the kettle on the small hot plate he kept in his office for just that purpose and powered up his computer. He logged on and checked his e-mail. He was hoping for another missive from Tony.
He had been thrilled when he received a brief message several weeks ago, delighted to have finally heard from Tony---at least he was until he’d read through what Tony had to say. Having confirmation Tony was looking for a position in law enforcement elsewhere meant he truly wasn’t coming back. Not that Ducky genuinely expected Tony would, but he’d hoped he might.
Quitting so suddenly had seemed rather unlike Tony. Even when he’d left his previous jobs, the younger man had always given two week notice. It wasn’t entirely against his nature to be impulsive, but Ducky suspected Tony hadn’t made the jump entirely unaided. In spite of everything that had happened, or perhaps because of it, Ducky thought Tony would have talked to someone before making any sort of decision---and he probably had. But it wasn’t one of the team, or at least, Ducky didn’t think so. Given the extensive and exhaustive search they were undertaking, he couldn’t imagine Abby, McGee, Ziva or Gibbs telling Tony leaving would be the right choice. Nor could he see them putting so much effort into finding him if any of them thought his leaving was truly the right choice.
Ducky saw Tony asking him to keep quiet about his being in contact as further proof he was serious about cutting all ties. It saddened Ducky. He’d thought Tony had found a place for himself at NCIS. He’d thought NCIS and the team had succeeded in giving Tony a sense of purpose, stability and family. But with everything that had happened over the last year and a half, Ducky realized they had failed, or more likely had damaged the relationship to the point Tony no long believed he had any reason to remain in D.C. with NCIS or the team.
Ducky had debated with himself for several days whether or not to stay silent about Tony asking him to be a reference for a job in Houston . The others may not have been able to show Tony they cared to the degree he’d needed, but it was obvious to Ducky they were worried about him. It didn’t feel right to keep what he knew a secret. But ultimately, Ducky decided to say nothing about Tony’s communication with him. He’d already let the younger man down several times---not speaking up for him more when he was acting team leader, not paying attention when Tony clearly needed a friend he could talk to and rely on, not expressing more concern for his health and well being---the list was far too long. He owed it to Tony to honor his request, and Ducky couldn’t in good conscience betray what might be a final display of trust.
Ducky hadn’t expected his silence to make that much difference. He honestly thought the others would be capable of tracking Tony down by now. It was what they did for a living after all. But every morning when Ducky asked McGee about their progress the answer was always the same, nothing. Being unable to track Tony down was either a case of them not trying as hard as Ducky had believed they were, or Tony was far better at covering his tracks than anyone would have expected.
When Lieutenant Joanne Beaumont called to check out Tony’s references Ducky never even considered lying. Tony was a friend, and had asked him in good faith to speak on his behalf. He wasn’t going to be anything less than honest. Tony had been a good agent, and would be an asset to any organization he worked for. Ducky wished him the best in Houston. Tony deserved to be happy, and it was obvious he hadn’t been happy in D.C. for months.
He had been elated that Tony continued to send him infrequent e-mails. The short messages reassured him that Tony was okay. From the most recent e-mail, sent last week, it sounded as though Tony was settling into a life in Houston. He was staying with friends until he found a place of his own. He’d gotten the job and had been assigned a partner who sounded like a good man. And the warmer weather was a nice change from the bite of winter that had been hitting D.C when Tony left.
Ducky reviewed his inbox, hoping for a new message. He sighed, disappointed to find nothing. He hadn’t really expected there to be one given Tony’s dislike for communicating via e-mail, but he’d hoped for an update.
Tony’s e-mails were far too short to really give Ducky all the details he wanted. He’d suggested Tony simply call him at home if calling the office or his cellphone was an issue for him but Tony had vetoed the idea. The time zone difference and their respective work schedules practically guaranteed talking to one another wouldn’t happen at a reasonable hour. And Tony worried about disturbing Mrs. Mallard. The younger man knew she didn’t sleep well, which meant Ducky often didn’t get much sleep either.
The whistle of the kettle interrupted Ducky’s thoughts. He poured out a cup, letting the Earl Gray steep. He got up to check the small refrigerator, grimacing when he realized he’d forgotten to buy more cream.
“Damn.” Ducky preferred his tea light and sweet, much the way Tony liked it. It wasn’t particularly healthy, but Ducky thought his one indulgence was relatively minor. He chucked. Tony could hardly claim sweet tea was his only indulgence. When he first started at NCIS there were days when Ducky was almost certain Tony lived entirely on candy from the vending machine. It was a wonder he had any teeth at all much less such a beautiful smile.
Ducky looked up at the sound of the automatic doors opening. He smiled warmly in welcome. “Good morning, Jethro.”
“Morning, Duck.” Gibbs handed him a half pint of cream.
“Bless you, my boy.” Ducky took the proffered cream gratefully. “I keep forgetting to buy more on my way in.”
“I know.” Gibbs smirked. “Did you just go without when I wasn’t around or learn to drink it black?”
“Neither.” Ducky poured a healthy dollop into his tea. “Tony brought it for me.”
“He did?”
“You needn’t sound so surprised.” Ducky looked up from stirring in a large spoonful of sugar. “Tony took good care of everyone in your absence.”
“Yeah…I heard he did a good job.”
Ducky stifled a snort, wondering who had told Gibbs that. It wasn’t like Ziva, McGee or Abby would have said as much. All they wanted was for him to be Gibbs. And there was really no way he could be, no matter how hard Tony tried. And any time he did anything his own way, they ridiculed him. Ducky thought the campfires were actually a good way to keep everyone, not just field agents, in the loop. He could listen to the CD’s Abby burned or read the transcripts and be as up to speed on the details of the case as everyone else. It was a rather novel experience and he found he missed it.
He was ashamed of himself for letting his own anger at Gibbs get in the way of being able to sing his praise of Tony’s time as acting team leader. He could barely talk to Gibbs then. And now, well, now it seemed too little too late. Ducky sighed softly. He had so much to apologize for.
“Duck?”
“Yes?” Ducky sipped his tea. He raised both eyebrows, surprised when Gibbs didn’t immediately speak further. It wasn’t like him to hesitate.
“Did Tony tell you why he left?”
“Not really, no.” Ducky pursed his lips. Tony’s letter, like his e-mails had been brief, but heartfelt. Tony mentioned how proud he was to have been able to work with such an esteemed man; a sentiment that, when he thought about it, made Ducky blush. He’d apologized for leaving so abruptly, but said he thought drawn out good-byes were best left to the movies. ‘In real life, they just make everything harder than it needed to be.’ He said he always thought of Ducky as a friend, and hoped Ducky thought of him the same way.
The silly boy, Ducky thought fondly. They might not have the same extensive history Ducky shared with Gibbs, but Tony was most definitely someone he considered a friend. And honestly, he should be the one asking Tony if he still wanted to be friends.
“Not really…what does that mean?” Gibbs made a ‘go on’ motion with one hand. “He gave you a hint? Wrote his life story? What?”
“He didn’t spell it out, Jethro.” Ducky resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “But looking back…well, suffice it to say, I noticed things in hindsight I should have seen before, so when I reread his letter, I have to say I better understand now why he left.”
Ducky looks at Gibbs. “I gather he didn’t say much in his letter to you?”
“No.” Gibbs shook his head. “Did you profile him?”
Ducky sighed, nodding. It hadn’t been intentional. It was more of an occupational hazard. The second he realized Tony had quit, Ducky had reviewed everything he knew about Tony…and everything he thought he knew, everything they had on file, and every picture he could find. He thought it would help the team to locate Tony. It had been…enlightening.
“Any idea where he is?”
Ducky hesitated. Lying was never something he had ever been good at. And up until now, he hadn’t had to lie---no one had ever asked him outright if he knew where Tony had gone or why.
The delay was his undoing. Gibbs’ gaze sharpened. The former Marine advanced on him, stepping into his space. Icy blue eyes held Ducky in place.
“He’s been in touch with you. Hasn’t he?”
Ducky’s chin came up, defiant in the face of Gibbs’ hostility. Blue eyes met blue. “Yes.”
“How long?” Gibbs growled. “How long have you known where he is?”
“A few weeks,” Ducky admitted quietly.
“Weeks!!” Gibbs snarled. “Why the hell didn’t you say something?”
“Because he asked me not to.” Ducky kept his tone deliberately mild, forcing himself to sound calm.
Gibbs turned away from him, hand slamming into the wall. He spun back around to face Ducky. “Of all the--"“
“Don’t you dare!” Ducky raised a hand in warning, eyes flashing with anger. “I would not betray the trust of one friend for the sake of another. And you have no right to expect me to.”
“Damn it, Duck, this isn’t about trust.”
“The hell it isn’t.” Ducky set his cup down, restraining himself enough not to slam it on to his desk. “Had you asked me to hold my tongue for you, and I failed to do so, you’d have seen it as a betrayal. Don’t think for one second Tony wouldn’t see it the same way. You know as well as I do, he is very much like you.”
“We’ve been friends for--”
“I know exactly how long we have been friends,” Ducky cut him off sharply. “That I have been friends with Tony for less time does not change my obligation to him.”
“What about the rest of the team? What about what you owe them?”
Ducky refused to show Gibbs had scored a hit with those questions. He had wanted to tell the others, to ease the worry and pain he saw in them. It was a large part of his own personal debate on whether or not to honor Tony’s request.
“Tony had no right to ask you to keep quiet.”
“He had every right.” Ducky squared his shoulders. “It is his life, Jethro.”
“His life is here.”
“No, his life was here.” Ducky shook his head. “He is not a child who ran away from home, Jethro. Tony is an adult. He made his choice, and as painful as we may find that to be, it was his decision to make.”
“He made the wrong one.”
“Possibly.” Ducky could concede that much. “But it isn’t your place to judge.”
“Excuse me?”
“May I remind you, it wasn’t all that long ago you made the same choice.”
Gibbs’ jaw clenched. “I had better reasons.”
“How would you know?” Ducky snorted, more annoyed than angry at Gibbs’ display of ego. “You don’t know why he left.”
Gibbs opened his mouth and then snapped his jaw shut with an audible click. Ducky waited, unsure of how the other man would respond. It wouldn’t be out of character for him to just storm out of the morgue. He’d given Ducky the cold shoulder before, and Ducky had returned the favor on occasion. After fifteen years, it was safe to say they’d covered a lot of ground in their friendship.
Gibbs took a deep breath and released it slowly. “You won’t tell me where he is?”
“I cannot tell you that.” Ducky was unprepared for the look of devastation that briefly graced Gibbs’ features.
“How am I supposed to fix this Duck when I can’t find him?”
Well, hell, Ducky cursed silently. He couldn’t tell Gibbs where Tony was, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t point him in the right direction. Help him find what he should have found on his own. Someone other than Ducky should have already looked there anyway. It was just another example of the team thinking they knew Tony better than they really did.
“Go pull his personnel file.”
“Why?”
Ducky gave Gibbs a look that was a virtual head slap. “I think you might find some worthwhile information if you check the emergency contact and next of kin information.”
“But I am his--"“
“You were once. You aren’t any longer.” Ducky was still angry enough to add another verbal jab. “As Tony astutely pointed out, it made no sense to have an emergency contact no one could get in touch with.”
“I left a number,” Gibbs shot back indignantly.
“Not with Tony you didn’t.” Ducky gave Gibbs another hard look. “And calling a damn bar would hardly have been reassuring for any of us if Tony had been bleeding his life out on an operating table.”
Gibbs had the good grace to blush. “Mike didn’t have a phone.”
“And a cellphone would clearly have been too much trouble for you to get,” Ducky shot back dryly.
Gibbs looked away. “I wasn’t planning on coming back.”
“And the only reason you’d need it would be because of the job?” Ducky snorted. Honestly the man was so dense some days.
Ducky smiled tightly. “The only people who actually believed that you truly meant to quit and stay away were you and Tony. Yet another reason for him to update the contact information.”
“He didn’t change it back.”
It was more of a question than a statement, so Ducky answered. “No, he didn’t."
“Why?”
“You’d have to ask him that question.”
“I asked you.”
Ducky grimaced. Pigheaded bastard. He wanted an answer. Ducky would give him one.
“I’m only guessing, but I’d say it was because, Jethro, you showed you could crack. Which meant you might well shatter. And he couldn’t trust you to be there when he needed you. Even someone as comfortable on shaky ground as Tony needs something solid he can depend on.”
Gibbs gave him an unreadable look. Ducky stared back, unperturbed. The man had demanded a response; it wasn’t Ducky’s fault if he hadn’t liked the answer.
“His personnel file?”
“Yes.” Ducky dipped his head.
Gibbs nodded. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
He wished Gibbs the best of luck. Ducky had come to terms with Tony’s leaving…at least as much as he was able, but the others certainly hadn’t. They were all in need of some closure. And that couldn’t happen without a chance to talk to Tony. Of course, having the chance to speak didn't mean the right things would get said. Ducky superstitiously crossed his fingers and sent a small prayer heavenward, hoping for the best.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Gibbs talks to Ducky