What mattered was that Ducky was happy and content surrounded by friends that cared so much about him.

"Gervaise Ravel," Dancer said, pacing the length of Vance's conference table behind Ducky, Gibbs, Fornell and Albert. "The last surviving member of a terrorist cell who planned to overthrow several world governments. She was sentenced to death by Guillotine by the French government only to be granted a stay of execution because she was with child at the time. During those eight months, she had a lawyer get her down to twenty years in prison; she only served five, and has been living as Jennifer Bufferton for most of her life since."

"Until she threw it all away with this scheme," Vance said.

"Not quite," Dancer pulled up a file. "Interpol has a long record on her identity as Bufferton. She was always up to her old tricks. This was her attempt to get rid of the two men who ruined her before they could again."

"Self-fulfilling prophecy," Fornell said. "Kidnapped DeForest's kid to make her look into Kuryakin and Solo since the FBI would have the resources only to be thwarted meeting the two men she planned to kill."

"Almost," Gibbs corrected.

Fornell rolled his eyes. "Right, only to thwarted meeting two men she thought were Kuryakin and Solo."

"Glad we could help," Albert said.

"Did she ever say why she had her grandson poison Ensign Jones?" Ducky asked.

"No, but your theory about him testing the gas was spot on," Dancer said. "We found his notes on his computer on the effects of long term small dose exposure on his computer. And with that, we've come to the end of where all of your clearance gets you. Agent Gibbs, Agent Fornell, Doctor Mallard and Mr. Stroller, thank you for your time and hard work. You are now free to go."

The group stood, Fornell putting a hand on Albert's elbow to help him to his feet.

"You never did mention," Gibbs said to Fornell as they all walked down the stairs, "what's going to happen to Agent DeForest."

"They've scheduled an inquiry. If she's lucky, only her career with the FBI is over," Fornell said, "I have a bigger problem. I need to figure out where to spend my vacation, curtsy of my higher ups. Any ideas?"

Gibbs opened his mouth.

"And if you say 'Mexico'…" Fornell warned.

Gibbs gave a smile and shrugged.

"No way," Tony declared perched on McGee's desk.

"What do you mean 'no way'?" McGee demanded.

"Exactly what that means, Tim. No way Ducky snatched a gun from some guy's hand."

"I have to agree with Tony," Ziva said from her desk with a note of apology.

"I believed you guys about Albert!"

"Because the man was holding a gun to his attacker!" Ziva pointed out.

"So was Ducky!"

"Not when you got there," Tony said.

"Excuse me," A black gentleman with a British accent said. "I'm looking for Albert Stroller. He called and asked him to pick him up. Is he in trouble?"

"No, but do you know where he learned to throw a guy to the ground and disarm him at the same time?" Tony asked.

"What?" the man asked in alarmed confusion.

"I'll take that as a 'no'," Tony said.

"It would have been more impressive if he was able to stand afterwards, anyways," Ziva said.

"What?" the man asked again.

"…I know a few guys." Albert said as the group made their way to the bullpen.

"Yeah, but London? This time of year?" Fornell asked.

"It is beautiful," Albert assured.

"I fully agree," Ducky said, "but I admit some bias. I remember one time I while I was at Cambridge-"

"Why were you throwing an armed man to the ground?" The man asked looking Albert in the eye.

Albert raised his hands in confusion. Gibbs looked at his team.

"We might have asked him where Albert learned that?" Tony asked.

Albert rolled his eyes. "Mickey, you do remember that I was Army? Also do you have any Tylenol?"

"From the dark ages!" Mickey exclaimed, patting his pockets before he shook his head 'no'.

"Ducky, where did you learn your…?" McGee pantomimed taking a gun.

"Jason Bourne gun taking technique?" Tony offered.

"I did no such thing," Ducky said, sounding affronted.

"Duck," Gibbs said.

"I did know a gentleman," Ducky relented, "back when I was stationed in Middle East who did know multiple ways to disarm someone safely. Yes, he used to show off quite a bit to the point that many of the younger men tried to do." Ducky winced and shook his head. "Let's just say, not everyone could do it properly. Especially when alcohol became involved."

"Speaking of alcohol," Palmer said walking up with Abby.

"We decided that since you missed your real birthday, we'd take you out tonight!" Abby finished with a bounce, hugging Ducky, "And the only places open this late are bars!"

"Ah, that sounds splendid." Ducky said as they broke the hug. "Oh, Albert, Tony offered to buy our drinks!"

"Oh, that works much better than Tylenol! Thank you, Tony," Albert said in good cheer.

"I can't believe he remembered that," Tony marveled.

"Tony, you told him that yesterday," McGee pointed out.

"Really? Seems so long ago…"

"Nobody's going anywhere until they finish their reports and give them to Miss Dancer," Gibbs said watching Dancer make her way down the stairs. Gibbs's phone rang and he picked it up.

"Guess that's my cue to leave," Fornell said and turned to Ducky. "I'll try to make it but if I don't: Happy Birthday."

"Thank you," Ducky said and they shook hands before Fornell made his way to the elevator nodding at Dancer as he left.

Tony sauntered over and looked at Dancer in the eye. "Can't I just give you a piece of paper covered in black rectangles? I mean that is what it's going to look like after you get done with it."

"Agent DiNozzo," Dancer said. "I want to go home and you have a birthday party to get to."

"Right," Tony retreated to his desk.

"Um, are we stuck here until they finish their reports?" Palmer asked Gibbs.

"Yeah, cause we did ours while you guys were-"

"Abby," Gibbs warned.

Abby rocked on her heels. "…selling insurance?"

Mickey glared at Albert. "I thought you were helping an old friend."

"He was," Ducky said. "Umm, Gibbs."

Gibbs waved them off. "Give Dancer your reports and go."

"Uh, they're down stairs," Palmer said, leading the way back to elevator to the labs, Dancer keeping pace with Albert.

"Mr. Stroller," Dancer said, causing Albert to look over at her. "Never do that again."

Albert nodded, with a smile and gave her the gesture for 'okay'.

"Do I want to know what you've been doing?" Mickey asked.

Ducky and Albert looked at each other.

"No," they said in unison.

Gibbs walked into Vance's office and stood in front of his desk. "You wanted to see me, Leon?"

Vance didn't look up from the file he was reading over. "Yes, please give this to Doctor Mallard when you see him."

Vance scribbled his signature on the line, closed the folder and held it out to Gibbs.

"You could do it yourself, we're all heading to the bar for a late birthday party," Gibbs offered.

"I would but I'm now stuck going to a meeting with the CIA and FBI over this whole affair," Vance said with an edge in his voice. Gibbs tilted his head to the side in acknowledgment and grabbed the folder pausing when Vance didn't let go. Vance looked him hard in the eye. "If you ever go behind my back like that again, I'll have your badge."

"With what?" Gibbs asked.

"Don't play dumb with me; Dancer was just as surprised as anyone that there were two passports in that folder and you didn't protest Mr. Stroller going on that mission. In fact, he turned to you for help to get him to go."

Gibbs gave an easy smile. "Leon, if that was me, it would have been my picture on that passport not his."

Vance let go of the folder. "Fair enough, but you do have a theory as to who did it."

"Uh, Agent Dancer?" A blond haired man with a Liverpool accent said, handing her a manila envelope.

"Thank you," She said taking the package.

The man's eyes flickered past her for a moment and Albert gave a deliberate wink that went unnoticed by most as their attention was on Dancer. The blond man, who wasn't CIA, nodded and walked back to the elevator.

Gibbs shrugged as he walked out of the room. "I don't know, Leon, maybe it was his Uncle?"

By the time Gibbs walked into the bar, Palmer was in the middle of hijacking the jukebox, selecting the jazziest songs that it had to offer. Abby spotted him first waving him over to the table with both hands over her head chanting "Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!"

Gibbs smiled, easily navigating through the slowly filling tables. Gibbs patted Mickey playing darts as he passed and pretended not to notice the blond haired man he was playing against. DiNozzo had picked a good spot; the table was easily defensible, with plenty of escape routes and eyes on both doors.

McGee grabbed a chair for him placing it next to Ducky who was laughing with everyone as Albert told a story.

"What I miss?" Gibbs asked, sinking into his seat with a nod of thanks to McGee.

"Ducky getting hit by a door," Tony chuckled as Palmer returned and sat next to him.

"Three times!" Albert corrected. "She hit him three times!"

Ducky got his laughter under control. "To be fair, my back was to the door two during two of them."

"So she hit you in the face once?" Ziva asked.

"He was going to get the door when she opened it hard enough to knock him on the couch," Albert explained, "and just looks at our client and says… 'Your wife is here.'"

Ducky laughed, shaking his head as he looked at Gibbs. "What took you so long, Jethro?"

"Just getting this from Director Vance," Gibbs said, handing the envelope Leon gave him to Ducky. "Your clearance has been reinstated."

"Ah, thank you Jethro, though I suppose this means it's back to work tomorrow. Shame, I could have used a few days off," Ducky lamented.

"Better going to work then being charged with espionage," McGee pointed out as he stood, gesturing with his empty bottle that he was getting another drink.

"Would have never gotten that far," Gibbs promised.

"See, what did I tell you, Palmer?" Tony threw a casual arm around the Assistant ME's shoulders. "Gibbs would know if Ducky had a deep dark secret like being a Russian spy!"

"Didn't know Anthony? I was!" Ducky said with a smile.

"Yeah, for an evening," Tony pointed out. "That doesn't count. I meant, being a Russian spy for real. Because let's face it Ducky, there is no way you could hide that from Gibbs!"

"No, I suppose not," Ducky said, catching Gibbs's eye.

Gibbs smiled at Ducky knowing they were thinking about the same thing.

Gibbs didn't dare look away as Kuryakin leveled the gun to Solo's head.

Kuryakin hesitated, his eyes clearly looking for some way out of the situation and finding none.

His hesitation was all the proof the KGB needed. Gibbs reached him before a real KGB agent could, removing the unfired pistol from unresisting fingers handing it back to Jenny. He improperly handcuffed Kuryakin as two KGB agents grabbed Solo.

The struggle in the hallway was brief, to be fair, it was four-on-four instead of the KGB's expected six-on-two.

Kuryakin was confused. "Why are you helping me?"

"Rule one: Never screw over your partner."

Kuryakin's face softened and Solo rested a hand on his friend's shoulder.

The next time Gibbs had seen him years and a case later, Kuryakin held out his hand, "We were never properly introduced; I'm Doctor Donald Mallard, but my friends call me Ducky."

"I'm your friend?" Gibbs asked, shaking his hand.

"After what you did?" Kur-Ducky wasn't referring to the case they had just worked on, "most assuredly."

"Ironically enough," Ducky said, looking at his empty Scotch glass, "after this whole affair I'm actually in the mood for Vodka."

"You know what, Duck," Gibbs said, "So am I."

"Me too," Albert agreed.

Tony laughed. "Alright, alright, I get it. Next year I'll give you my stapler." Tony whistled at McGee across the bar. "Round of Vodka, Probie!"

McGee made his way over, a tray of drinks in his hands and everyone grabbed one.

"Happy, if a little late, Birthday, Doctor Mallard!" Jimmy said, holding up his glass.

Everyone echoed the statement and sentiment, but not the name. McGee and Ziva followed Palmer's example and called him Doctor Mallard while Tony, Abby and Gibbs called him Ducky. And Albert Stroller …

"Happy Birthday, tovarisch."

Well, what did it matter to Gibbs how the man who used to be Napoleon Solo wished the man who used to Illya Kuryakin "Happy Birthday"? What mattered was that Ducky was happy and content surrounded by friends that cared so much about him.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading, I hope you all had fun reading this as I had fun writing it. Special thanks to my Dad who made sure that everyone stayed in character and fixing my computer even if I had to hound him non-stop.

The headcannon that Albert Stroller is Napoleon Solo came from Robert Vaughn. That one fact added so much to the feel of this story and I'm grateful for that.

Rest in Peace Mr. Vaughn, I hope you and Anne Francis enjoyed the fic where ever you are.