This is AU as it has Senior dying while Tony is still at NCIS …

Tony DiNozzo stood for a few moments gazing at the coffin. He was aware of sympathetic arm pats and hugs as his fellow mourners passed by on the way to the reception.

Tony wasn't at all sure what he should be feeling. He had, of course, been to lots of funerals just not to his father's. In some ways it was similar to attending the funerals of those people he had liked but not been especially close to, but this was his father's funeral and surely his emotions should be stirred more? He grimaced as he remembered his father's dictum that DiNozzos don't cry – and Tony really, really didn't want to cry in public. Perhaps, he decided, he should postpone a closer examination of his feelings until he was safely alone once more.

Tony sighed and realised he wasn't alone – Jethro Gibbs was standing waiting for him. Tony nodded in appreciation of the silent support and then saw that Agents McGee and Bishop were also waiting with Abby Sciuto almost vibrating with the urge to give him an Abby hug.

"Ready?" asked Gibbs.

"I guess," said Tony with a touch of reluctance.

"Take your time," said Gibbs. He settled into parade rest giving the impression he'd wait all day if needed.

"Nah, I'm good. Hey guys, thanks for coming."

Bishop, McGee and Abby took this as a signal to draw near.

"We had to come," said Abby, "For Senior … and for you."

Tony managed a smile, "He loved you guys. You should have heard him telling his friends at the retirement centre about you all."

"And we loved him," said Abby, giving Tony a hug.

"We'll miss him," said Ellie.

Tony nodded although he wasn't sure how much he would agree.

"He was certainly larger than life," said Tim.

Tony nodded again and sensed that McGee had been searching for the right words: words that acknowledged Senior's character while also recognising that it hadn't all been plain sailing between father and son. And that, guessed Tony, reflected Tim's troubled relationship with his own father where death had potentially brought both sorrow and relief. Tony hoped that his nod relayed to Tim that he appreciated the sentiment.

Tony looked down the path and saw that the funeral director was hoping to get the cars moving to the reception. He squared his shoulders in readiness for all the socialising that lay ahead.

"We're heading back," said Gibbs. "You know, we've got …"

"I know, Boss. It's OK," said Tony, "Crime isn't gonna solve itself. Like I said, I appreciate you coming."

Gibbs put a hand on Tony's shoulder, "You gonna be OK?"

"I'm fine. Really."

Gibbs gazed at him a moment or two longer to make sure he was telling the truth and then signalled the others that it was time to leave. Ellie and Abby hugged him, and Tim offered a firm handshake and then Tony watched them go: he knew that they were working a tough and complicated cyber crime and needed to get back but part of him felt a familiar sense of loneliness and abandonment.

Tony turned back to the coffin and saw a man standing thoughtfully by the coffin. There was something in the way he stood and watched that seemed familiar to Tony: the man was probably a few years older than Tony, but he looked a little lost and uncertain about what he should be doing. Tony recognised that uncertainty from his own dealings with Senior.

"Can I help you?" he asked. Talking to this stranger would delay the moment of leaving the graveside, the moment of acknowledging that his father was really dead and would not be turning up at inopportune moments to disrupt his life. Tony thought that his life would be both emptier and more predictable now that Senior had gone.

"Excuse me?" came the reply. The man looked a little startled, as if he had been lost in thought.

"There's a reception at the Adams House," said Tony, "You're welcome to come."

"Oh, I don't know …"

"How did you know Sen – my father?"

"He was your father? I didn't realise, but I should have guessed – you look like him. I'm sorry for your loss." He held out his hand.

"Thank you," said Tony as he shook hands, "I'm Tony DiNozzo."

"Yes, of course. I'm Cris Maggio." He held on to Tony's hand with both hands. "It's good to see you again."

"Again?"

Cris gazed at Tony, "It was a long time ago."

"Oh. Well, look, I have to get to the reception – before the funeral director has a meltdown! You want to come?"

Cris swiped at his eyes in sudden distress, "I'm not really sure why I came here … I don't know anyone here," he got some composure and managed a faint grin, "But I reckon I'll be there …"

"OK," said Tony, not at all sure he wanted to deal with the emotions of random people his father had collected in a long and haphazard life. He had gone a few paces when Cris called after him,

"Could I call you? I might not see you at the reception … It would be … good … to catch up."

Tony could almost hear the blood pressure of the funeral director rising so decided not to deflect, "Sure. Here's my number," he thrust a business card at Cris, resolving that he would find it easier to give him the brush off over the phone than face to face.

NCISNCIS

Tony went into full-blown DiNozzo charm mode at the reception as he employed all the skills that Senior had taught him. It probably helped that nobody was devastated by the loss and everyone had a story to tell of deals which, on the whole, hadn't quite come off. After a while, Tony found himself gravitating to the older folk who had shared his father's retirement building and was gratified to hear that Senior had, in addition to looking out for deals for them, also performed genuine acts of kindness: it made Tony wonder if Senior would always have been a nicer person if his finances had panned out better.

With everyone chatting away happily, Tony allowed himself to drift off a little and then became aware that a piano was playing gently in the background. He started a little as he recognised the music to As Time Goes By and found himself transported back to he and his mother playing in the music room at the house in the Hamptons.

Tony found himself drifting over to the piano to listen more closely to the tune they had loved so much.

"That's nice, man," he managed as the music ended. "Hey, it's you!" He looked more closely at the man from the funeral and realised that he was wearing an Adams House uniform.

"Told you I'd be here," said Cris as he moved smoothly into another tune.

"Huh," said Tony, remembering that he'd booked a piano player as a way of boosting the mood of the gathering. "Well, thanks again, man. You make good music."

"Thanks. And thank you for asking me here … you know, as a guest."

"No problem. Dad knew lots of people. He'd have loved this," Tony gestured at all the people eating the food and swapping stories. He smiled a slightly watery smile. "Hey, how did you know him?" he asked.

"You don't remember?"

"No, afraid not. Like I said, Dad knew lots of people. Kinda hard to keep up. And I wasn't always around."

"I guess … suppose I shouldn't have thought you would …" Cris trailed off, "Think someone wants to talk to you."

Tony turned in the direction of Cris's nod and saw Gibbs waiting in the doorway.

"My Boss," he explained, "Better go see what he wants." Tony looked at his phone to see if he had missed a call and was relieved to see that he hadn't accidentally broken one of Gibbs' rules.

"Sure. Maybe we could catch up some time?"

Tony nodded absently; he didn't think they had anything to catch up on and his attention was on Gibbs.

"Something up, Boss? You need me?" he asked.

"Nope. McGee, Bishop and Abby have gone all high-pitched and squealy over some techno-whatsit-thingy, but they don't know what they've found yet, so I figured I'd leave them to it and come see how you're doing."

Tony nodded sympathetically as he pictured the trio's excitement. It was almost touching that Gibbs found it difficult to cope with them without Tony to act as leaven. "How many CafPows has Abby had?"

Gibbs winced, "I cut her off. And McGee and Bishop … well, I cut McGee off from the caffeine and confiscated Bishop's sugar stash. Was worried they'd go into orbit."

"Ouch."

"And then the Director joined in …"

"Need a drink? Barman here keeps a good rough bourbon behind the bar for less discerning customers."

Gibbs didn't seem to feel insulted, "Lead the way," he instructed.

It wasn't long before Gibbs and Tony were seated at the bar with their drinks,

"Good turn out," commented Gibbs.

"Dad knew a lot of people."

"Hmm. How you doing?"

Tony tried to remember the last time Gibbs had asked him so often about his well-being and thought it was probably when he was recovering from plague; he hoped he didn't look that bad this time.

"Well, you know … not got a lot to compare it with." Even as he said this, Tony thought it wasn't true: he had seen lots of bereavements, lots of distraught grieving children and he knew that his bereavement, his lack of distress didn't really measure up. "I don't know what I'm meant to …"

Gibbs shrugged, "Don't think there are any right or wrong answers, DiNozzo. Not sure what I felt when Dad died …"

Tony was fairly sure that if Jackson had been his father, he would have had a more typical reaction to a parent's death but, for someone who had lots of rules, Gibbs didn't seem to conform to many. Tony thought he would have reacted positively to Jackson Gibbs' warm humanity but Gibbs … well, Tony wondered how many dreams and relationships had foundered against the iceberg of Gibbs' grief.

"Perhaps it would have been easier if Senior and I hadn't got sort of closer recently …"

"Yeah? You regret that … you know, that you made up some?"

Tony smiled, "No, I guess not! I mean, it wasn't perfect – Senior always found a way to make it less than perfect – but I figure it would've been worse if we hadn't been talking. Even more regrets." The sigh was a good indicator of the number of regrets Tony was thinking of.

"Have to play the hand you're dealt."

"That another rule?"

"Sort of an implied one."

"That sounds deep."

"I can do deep," protested Gibbs mildly. "What?" he asked as he saw Tony's eyes suddenly switch to the piano player.

"Oh. What? Nothing …"

"Didn't look like nothing."

"It's stupid. The piano guy – he just finished off with a riff that reminded me of … someone."

Gibbs opened his mouth to ask more but, at that moment, his phone sounded to signal that a text had arrived. He peered at it with a scowl, "Huh. They think they've found something," he announced, "I'm heading back."

"You want me to come too?"

"Nah, stay here."

"It's winding up. They won't miss me and besides …"

"Besides what?"

"If I stay here, I'll probably get drunk … and not in a happy way."

Gibbs stared at Tony which was his silent way of asking if he was sure about this. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he nodded, "Meet you out front."

"I'll just tell everyone I'm heading out," said Tony.

None of the remaining guests seemed surprised that Tony had been called back to work and they were happy to go back to their story swapping.

"I'll call you," said Cris with a gentle smile as Tony walked past. "It'll be good to catch up."

"Ah … yeah, sure," said Tony still in the dark about how Cris knew his father … and apparently him as well. Part of him hoped that the promised phone call would never come and the other part was intrigued.