Disclaimer : I own nothing, but the bad guys and the typos.

Warnings : Rated T for violence and language.

Author's Note : Thanks to everyone who's read, favorited and followed. Many, many thanks to everyone who's reviewed. Reviewers bring up some excellent points on the way the characters acted during Hiatus and after. Unfortunately, I think it was probably a very ugly time for all of the characters involved.

Hopefully, you enjoy the epilogue.

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Monday, August 28, 2006 – 7:28pm – Bullpen – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –

As the elevator makes its steady climb to the fourth floor, Gibbs stares at his reflection in the doors. That damned visitor's badge is clipped to his threadbare sports coat, a constant reminder how he no longer belongs here. With a labored sigh, he starts to remove it.

Behind him, Kenji Suzuki clears his throat. "You know the rules, sir. You need to leave it on."

"Enough with the damned rules, Suzuki. Where'd that get you last time?"

Kenji's reflection flinches, his cheeks paling. "One week's suspension, sir."

"Are you getting paid?"

"Yes, but – "

"Then it's a vacation," Gibbs replies with a smirk.

When the elevator hits their floor, Kenji's brow furrows as though he'd never considered that possibility. Gibbs almost misses the moment of realization spread over the probationary agent's face as the doors slide open. As he hops off the elevator, Gibbs shakes his head.

It's about time that kid learned something. Results matter, not the consequences.

Gibbs takes the familiar route to the bullpen with Kenji on his heels. Even though he suspected Tony might be here, Gibbs didn't actually expect to find him at work. After everything his former agents went through last week, he thought Tony would be home recovering, but multiple trips to his apartment - and his favorite watering hole - came up empty. So he decided to give the bullpen a shot.

When Gibbs takes a step forward, Kenji starts to follow.

"Don't you have anything better to do than follow me around, Suzuki?"

Kenji makes a face, shakes his head. "Actually, sir, no. My paperwork's finished. As soon as you're done, I start my – "

"Vacation," Gibbs finishes.

The probationary agent attempts a smile, but it comes off as a grimace. "Yeah, I guess."

"Then get going, Suzuki. I'll see myself out."

"But it's protocol."

"And what are they going to do if you leave me alone? Send you home early?"

When Kenji presses his lips together, his brow furrows as though he's trying to make sense of the comment. Just when Gibbs worries the younger man might hurt himself, he nods tightly. Like he finally understands.

"Good luck, Gibbs." Then he's gone.

But Gibbs doesn't watch him leave. Instead, he turns his attention back to the bullpen as he struggles to grasp why Kenji wished him luck. From where he stands, he watches Tony move mechanically between his desk and Gibbs' old one. His arms are loaded with casefiles that he's dumping on his desk. Something low and soulful – maybe Billie Holiday? – warbles out of the plasma's speakers.

After Tony drops the files on his desk, he crosses his arms and stares out at the space. His shoulders rise as he lets out a broken sigh.

"I know you're there, Gibbs," he says, almost whispering.

"Finally grew eyes in the back of your head, DiNozzo?"

But Tony doesn't laugh, doesn't even bother to face his former boss. Something that feels like guilt bubbles inside Gibbs' gut as he edges closer. His eyes rake across Tony's old desk. Once open casefiles are now neatly arranged into piles with their contents locked away. The spitball straws, candy wrappers, and old pictures of the team have vanished. Only that stapler with the weird cartooned mouse give any indication Tony might inhabit the space again.

But worst of all, the white board with Tony's accomplishments rests by the trashcan, scrubbed clean. Like his closure percentage as team leader never existed.

Gibbs licks his lips. "How you feelin', DiNozzo?"

"Great." Tony steals a glance at his desk. "Just great."

Silence wedges itself between the pair as Gibbs studies his former agent. Tony's body is tense, wound so tightly he might explode at the slight provocation. While Gibbs doesn't want to be the spark, he needs to know why Tony's acting this way. Then, he'll defuse the ticking bomb.

Shifting his weight, he sips his coffee. "So any word on Barrows' investigation?"

"What investigation? Director Shepard closed the investigation into McGee and my abduction this morning." His features twist as he nearly spits the words. "Our captors are already dead and we aren't supposed to go chasing ghosts. We aren't even filing official reports. It's like…" Tony's voice trails off as he drops his gaze to the worn carpet.

"It never even happened."

"Yeah. McGee and I almost got killed for nothing."

Gibbs nods carefully, swigs his coffee. "How about your dad?"

Even though Tony makes a face, amusement dances in his eyes. "Off the grid until the repair bill comes in for Ducky's car. Last I heard, Ducky had Abby running Dad's credit cards. I'm not sure whether they'll find him."

"Have you seen him?"

Tony nods tightly. "Last night for dinner, but don't tell Ducky."

Smirking, Gibbs takes another sip of his coffee. That stubborn silence worms its way through them again, threatening to force them even further apart. The soft jazz vocals glide between them, struggling to serve as conversation. Gibbs stands at attention next to Tony's old desk as he pushes through the files. They're all cases the team never managed to close before he retired.

Gibbs stares at his former agent until Tony's eyes snap up. The defiant fire blazing in them nearly sucks Gibbs' breath away. It's been a lifetime since Tony looked at him like everything is his fault.

"Are you the only one here today?" Gibbs asks.

Tony nods. "Yeah. McGee took some personal time and Ziva…well, she probably did too."

Gibbs watches his former agent closely. "What about you?"

"I didn't need any."

When Gibbs sips his coffee silently, Tony jerks his head away. Just when he's about to walk away, Gibbs takes a step forward.

"You never came by the house," he says quietly. "I left the door unlocked."

"I guess I didn't feel like bourbon – " Tony shrugs with one shoulder " - or talking."

"Well, I waited for you. Even McGee and Ziva came by."

"Ziva?" Tony turns around, clearly interested. "You heard from her?"

Gibbs nods. "She stopped by Friday night and McGee came Saturday afternoon."

"Where is she anyway?"

"She's running down a lead on your and McGee's kidnappers. Told me she'd be handing it off to Mossad as soon as determines its credibility." Gibbs drums his fingers on his coffee cup. "Then she should be back."

"Should be back," Tony repeats, chuckling ruefully. "Figures she'd go to you before she came to me."

"That's what I told her. She's supposed to check in with you, not me."

Tony shrugs that one-shouldered shrug again. "Why? It's not like it matters anymore, Boss."

The way he says the former title – with more insult than respect – makes Gibbs recoil. He holds his former agent's stare as though he might learn something from it, but Tony's gotten even better at hiding his emotions. Gibbs hazards a step towards his agent.

"What's that supposed mean, DiNozzo?"

"I heard you were coming back this morning." Tony squares his shoulders, works his hands into fists. "It figures you'd wait for me to screw up, then take over the team again. What happened to letting me handle things?"

"It's not like that, Tony."

"Then what's it like, Boss?" The word cuts again, deeper this time. "You left us, all of us." There's a broken sigh, then a quieter, "You left me."

Gibbs blinks, taken aback. "I – "

"Let me finish."

Nodding, Gibbs settles into the nearest chair and gives Tony his undivided attention.

As though he hadn't been expecting it, Tony straightens his suit jacket and draws himself to his full height. It's the moment Gibbs finally recognizes the confident, capable agent he knew was hidden underneath that cocky, juvenile cop back in Baltimore. Even though he wants to tell Tony how proud he is, he holds his tongue to let the agent say his piece.

Tony begins to pace. "You have no idea how hard this was, Gibbs. To convince them I'm the boss. To make them listen. Do you know how many times Ziva questioned my orders? And McGee would just sit there like he was deciding whether it was something you'd do." His lips pull into a pained smile. "I doubted myself enough, but to have my team question me too?"

He stops moving long enough to face Gibbs. "It's like they were just waiting for you to come back and then, here you are. Do you know this feels?"

Certain the question is rhetorical, Gibbs shakes his head. As he ignores the sympathetic twist in his gut, he watches his former agent stalk the length of the bullpen for a second time. Based on the way Tony works his jaw and crosses his arms, he isn't done yet.

"You know what. I bet you don't even care." Tony's shoulders rise as he lets out his breath in a huff. Then he drops the bomb: "I put in for a transfer this morning."

Gibbs' eyes widen. "Why?"

"Because I don't want to be senior field agent again." Tony presses his lips together as he sinks into a chair. "I deserve my own team. Even if it isn't this one."

Swigging his coffee, Gibbs waits for the anger to ebb away from his former agent's face. "You're right, Tony. You do deserve your own team and believe it or not, you already have one. I just didn't expect you to give up on them so easily."

Tony laughs humorlessly. "McGee and Ziva sure as hell don't act like they're on my team."

"Then get them in line. But things should change soon." When Tony shoots him a disbelieving glance, Gibbs' eyebrows jump. "It's part of what I talked to them about. I'm not they're boss anymore, you are. Explained to them I'm not coming back."

"And what – "

Gibbs holds his hand up. "My turn, DiNozzo. Remember I was ready to walk away, you were ready for your own team. I explained to them I'd rather leave to keep you guys together, then lose the one person I trust to keep everyone safe."

Tony's brow furrows. "Then why is everyone saying you're back?"

Gibbs unclips the visitor's badge from his sports coat, then chucks it in the nearest trashcan. "I'm consulting with NCIS as soon as Shepard approves the paperwork."

Tony gapes at him. "Consulting?"

"Yeah, I heard it pays pretty well. Blew through my retirement savings a little quicker than I'd planned."

When Tony shoots him a sideways glance, Gibbs smirks. Based on the look, he knows exactly what his former agent is thinking. Shepard barely let him stay in NCIS as an agent so there's no way in hell he'll be back as a consultant. But when he remembers that undercover moment Shepard would rather keep buried, Gibbs is pretty sure she'll approve the paperwork tomorrow morning.

Blackmail always did work on those career types.

Tony clears his throat. "And what are you doing here, Gibbs?"

"NCIS needs someone to help train the probationary agents." He swigs his coffee, nods. "Already got a head start on Suzuki."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Tony's brow furrows. "Didn't he get suspended for helping you?"

"We got the results we needed." Gibbs bobs his coffee cup between his former agent and Tim's empty desk. "Someone needs to make sure these agents learn how to do things the right way."

Tony blinks like he's trying to wake up from a strange dream. "Is that really why you're staying?"

"That and I couldn't find a good cup of coffee south of the border."

Even though Gibbs wants to confess he misses his team, he can't bring himself to say the words. Based on the way Tony nods at him, Gibbs believes the sentiment is shared. If he has to teach the probies right from wrong to be near them again, then so be it.

"Glad to have you back, boss."

Gibbs allows himself one more smile. "I'm not your boss anymore, Tony. Speaking of, you'd better go stop that paperwork before Shepard ships your ass off to Okinawa."

Tony's cheeks go a deathly white as he leaps out of his chair. He starts towards the stairs, then doubles-back to Gibbs. Lingering for a long beat, he holds Gibbs' stare. Then he pulls his former boss into a one-armed hug. Closing his eyes, Gibbs taps his hands on Tony's back.

"I'm proud of you, Tony. I'm proud of all of you."

"Thank you. But why let me keep the team?"

"Rule five."

Tony sighs. "You don't waste good."

Gibbs pushes Tony back so he can stare into his eyes. "You're G-damn right, DiNozzo. And you three together are good. Just get your shit together and lead."

"I'm on it, Boss." He gives a sad smile as he corrects himself: "I'm on it, Gibbs."

Then Tony vanishes to intercept his paperwork.

Pressing his lips together, Gibbs hangs back in the bullpen.

For a fleeting moment, he sees his former team at their desks, hard at work. Tim hunches forward, typing feverishly at his computer, while Tony tries to fling spitballs without anyone noticing. Even though she appears clam, Ziva reaches for the weapon she keeps taped underneath her desk to threaten Tony. All the while, he reads casefiles at his desk until it's time to demand results.

Nostalgia rolls over Gibbs, followed closely by regret. This moment of perfect normalcy is something he will never experience again. Before he heads out of the bullpen for the last time, he sets his coffee cup on his old desk and watches himself fade away.

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Author's Note 2.0 : And we're done! For all of those still here, thank you so much for sticking with me. I appreciate that you've made the journey with me. Please let me know what you thought: good or bad.

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