AN: yet another take on Requiem but not as angsty as my other stories. I don't own the characters.

"Go home, DiNozzo," said Gibbs.

They were alone in the squad room; night was falling outside and most of the lights on the floor were dimmed so that they sat spotlighted in the gloom.

"Yes, Boss," said Tony but he continued to sit unmoving at his desk.

Gibbs suppressed a sigh and stood up as if to walk over to Tony's desk. Tony roused himself,

"On it, Boss," he said wearily, "just got to clear this up," he gestured towards his desk.

Gibbs smiled as he looked at the clutter on his senior field agent's desk and at the slightly bemused expression on his senior field agent's face. Tony took a deep breath in the hope this would energise him for the task ahead. He paused to consider how his day had progressed. He rather thought it was one of the strangest he had ever had at NCIS.

NCISNCISNCIS

Tony had woken up that morning feeling surprisingly energetic. A good night's sleep seemed to have enabled him to slough off the weariness caused by rescuing Gibbs and Maddie from watery graves earlier in the day. Tony had half expected to have nightmares about failing to save them but exhaustion had won out and he had slept soundly. He had arrived at the Navy Yard clutching a cup of coffee enriched with sugar and hazelnut creamer and feeling that everything was pretty much back to normal.

The oddness started when, en route to his desk, nine people stopped him to shake him by the hand and congratulate him on his bravery of the day before. Weariness was beginning to lurk on the horizon by the time he made it to his work station and had settled himself at his desk sipping his drink. A few minutes later, Agent Balboa dropped by,

"Hey, Tony. Good job yesterday. Got you this coffee. Enjoy. Got to go. We just got called out to a dead petty officer in Rock Creek Park. Director has put your team on desk duty for a couple days."

Tony sniffed his drink and could smell the hazelnut creamer. He nodded his thanks and was about to speak when Balboa continued,

"It'll probably take you two days to write up all your reports anyway!"

Tony groaned as he began to picture the length of reports detailing his shooting of two people, throwing away his weapon and then rescuing Gibbs and Maddie. Balboa laughed sympathetically and clapped him on the shoulder before going off on his mission. Tiredness inched a bit nearer and Tony took a moment to be grateful for the second cup of caffeine. He switched his computer on and began to think which report to write first.

"Tony, Tony, Tony!" The thump of thick soled shoes announced the arrival of Abby. Tony braced himself for an Abby hug but this was delayed because Abby had first to put down the huge vase of black flowers she was carrying.

"Wow, Abs," said Tony, "I've never seen such a big vase." He was tempted to add except at a funeral but thought that would be tactless.

"I know!" said Abby excitedly, "aren't they cool? But you deserve them. Oh, Tony! I didn't sleep last night for worrying about what would have happened if you hadn't been there."

"But I was," pointed out the practical Tony.

"I know!" said Abby, "I know!" and she hugged him in the most Abby-like way possible.

"Uh," panted Tony after a few moments of his nose being scrunched into Abby's shoulder, "can't breathe, Abs!"

"Oh! I'm sorry!" gasped Abby, "are you all right? You didn't damage your lungs, did you? Are you all right? Shall I get Ducky? Or should I go straight to 911? Are you …"

"I'm fine, Abs," said Tony, straightening himself, "I just haven't learned to breathe through your body yet."

Abby stared at him anxiously.

"But I'm going to get right on that," said Tony hastily.

Abby enfolded him in another hug but fortunately Tony managed to keep his face free this time so was able to enjoy the experience a bit more.

"Would you like me to bring Bert up to keep you company?" she asked.

Tony wondered how she thought this would help but realised that, along with black flowers, the offer of Bert was the most comforting thing Abby could think of offering.

"No," he said, "but I might come visit later."

Abby beamed and clutched him a bit tighter.

"Where's the Bossman?" she asked.

"Don't know, haven't seen him," said Tony, "his gear is here. Perhaps he's with Ducky. Or the Director?"

The elevator dinged and they looked round to see Ziva and McGee arriving.

"Are we interrupting something?" asked Ziva.

"No. I'm just thanking Tony," said Abby, as she started to stroke Tony's hair.

"Um, Abs," said Tony, "I should really get to work, you know."

"Ohh," said Abby reluctantly, "but I like hugging you." She gave one last squeeze, patted his head and then released him. Tony shook himself, took a sip of Balboa's gift and looked at Ziva and McGee. He almost laughed at the expression on their faces as they tried to process what had happened the day before.

"Anthony, my dear boy," said Ducky as he and Jimmy entered the squad room, "I know I said this yesterday but I just wanted to say once more what a wonderful thing you did yesterday. It was a remarkable feat. You know …" Everyone braced themselves for one of his reminiscences, "you know," he said, "I have never heard the like. I have nothing to compare it to." He reached out his hand for Tony to shake.

"Thanks, Ducky," said Tony, "it was …"

"Don't say it was nothing, Anthony," said Ducky severely, "it was, as I said, quite remarkable. "

"Well," began Tony.

"I want you to come down to Autopsy later in the morning. I want to listen to your chest. Just to make sure that you haven't picked up any sort of infection. The waters around the docks are not, you know, the best place to go swimming."

Tony saw Gibbs and Director Shepard coming down the stairs,

"What about Gibbs?" he asked, "do you want to check him out too?"

Ducky directed a rather cool look at Gibbs as he moved to sit at his desk. "Ah," he said, "yes, certainly. Jethro, you should also come down for an examination."

Gibbs nodded meekly although he was confident that the term iron constitution had probably been devised with him in mind. Still, he thought that DiNozzo would be more likely to submit to an examination if he went too.

Director Shepard coughed, "Agent Gibbs and I have just been discussing Agent DiNozzo's actions yesterday. I will be placing a commendation in his file and I think he will be a leading candidate for this year's Meritorious Civilian Service Medal."

The team's eyes swivelled between Gibbs and Tony. Tony felt a warm glow at the Director's praise but thought it likely that Gibbs would pull off some heroic feat before the award ceremony which would trump Tony's achievement.

"Congratulations, Tony," said Jimmy, "um, I got you a Jamaican Mocha." He placed it on Tony's desk,

"Thanks Jimster. Appreciate it."

"And Breena and I made some cookies last night."

"Thanks, Jimmy."

"They're a bit burnt."

"Oh."

"And we forgot the sugar. So we sprinkled it on top."

"I'm sure they're fine."

"And we only had one egg instead of three. So they're a bit drier than they should be."

"It's the thought that counts, Mr Palmer," said Ducky briskly, as he saw Tony's face getting longer and longer as the list of cookie flaws grew. "Come along, we have work to do. Anthony, I expect to see you later." He turned to go, "oh, and you too, Jethro."

Silence reigned as Tony looked at the three cups of coffee, huge vase of black flowers and tin of cookies on his desk. He moved them out of the way to get at his keyboard. Abby showed signs of wanting to resume hugging duties but Gibbs escorted her back down to her lab.

Left alone, Tony became aware that Ziva and McGee were still looking uncomfortable. Tony sighed, although he wasn't sure whether he shouldn't just be grateful that they hadn't bought him coffee. He was about to offer them a Palmer cookie when Ziva broke the silence.

"You did well yesterday, Tony," she announced.

Tony straightened, beginning to feel pleased.

"Although it is the sort of thing that a Mossad agent would be able to do in their second week of training."

Tony tried not to sag. Ziva seemed to realise she had been less than tactful,

"But for you," she said in an attempt to be generous, "it was very good. I expect I would be able to give you some advice on how best to dive down. And on performing CPR."

"The Mossad way?" asked Tony mildly.

"Yes," said Ziva, "it is the best way."

"Thanks, Ziva," said Tony, aware that the weariness had drawn even closer.

Ziva felt that something had gone wrong so tried another tack.

"I bought you some bamba," she announced handing Tony a small package.

"Thanks, Ziva," said Tony, looking uncertainly at the colourful bag. He opened it and peered inside, "they look like fat termites," he said unwarily, "or animal poo."

"They are very popular with children in Israel," said Ziva stiffly, "so I thought you would like them."

Tony sniffed, "what are they?"

"They are peanut butter flavoured puffed maize. Try one."

"Um, perhaps later," said Tony, "it's a bit early to eat candy."

McGee squashed a laugh at the idea that Tony wanted to eat healthily.

Ziva drew near to Tony's desk and leaned towards him, "perhaps you would like some other type of reward?" she said throatily.

Tony gulped. Ziva acting seductively towards him never seemed to end well for him although it was always tempting. He usually backed away from the games of chicken she seemed to want to lure him into; never sure about which of them would blink first and always grateful for Gibbs' rule 12. Besides, he decided, he had already cheated death the day before; there was nothing to say that his luck would continue.

"Uh, no thanks, Ziva," he said finally, "bimbos will be fine."

"Bamba," Ziva corrected him, "bamba. Well, if you're sure …"

"Oh, I'm sure," said Tony as he popped a piece of bamba in his mouth.

Ziva thrust a hip provocatively, "Not many men turn such an offer down, Tony," she said huskily.

"I'm sure," said Tony through a mouthful of peanut butter.

"Very well," said Ziva abruptly abandoning her seductress pose and reverting to NCIS liaison officer. She went back to her desk although she threw an ass wiggle in as a last gesture. Tony took another sip of coffee and tried to think that Ziva had done her best: comparing him favourably to a Mossad agent was, from her, praise of the highest order. He wasn't sure what bestowing children's candy on him meant but he hoped the intention was kind. He looked up to see McGee standing at his desk.

"Um, could I have one of those?" he asked, pointing to the bag of candy.

"Sure," said Tony figuring that a nutter butter addict would probably love the peanut butter flavour termites.

McGee took a piece of the candy but didn't move away. He stared at Tony as if he was trying to puzzle something out.

"What?" asked Tony eventually.

"It's just … well … you know …"

"No, I don't know. Tell me."

"Well, how did you do it?"

Tony was about to answer when they were interrupted by the arrival of a young woman accompanied by four small children.

"Special Agent DiNozzo?" she asked.

"Yes?" said Tony warily.

"I'm Melissa DaSouza, I work in Day-care."

"Yes?"

"And the children were so excited when they heard about what you did yesterday."

"Yes?"

"And they made you a card. A 'well done' card. Come on children, show Special Agent DiNozzo what you've made."

The children came forward and handed Tony a huge card which said "Our hero. Agent Tony. Well done!"

"Er, thank you," said Tony a little hesitantly, as he took the card and watched as a shower of glitter fell on his desk and the bag of bamba, "That's really great."

The children smiled happily.

"Is there any glitter left in Day-care?" asked Tony.

"Not much," admitted Melissa, "they do like glitter."

The children looked a bit uncertain as they listened to this. "And so do I," said Tony with false enthusiasm, "I mean, who wouldn't?"

The youngsters looked a bit happier.

"Here, have some cookies," said Tony, offering them Jimmy's tin.

Melissa was about to accept but, taking a closer look at the contents, hastened to make an excuse, "oh no," she said, "We couldn't possibly. You know, the children aren't allowed too much sweet stuff."

"Yeah, I suppose so," said Tony gloomily as the chances of getting rid of the cookies diminished.

"Come on, children," said Melissa cheerfully, "it's time to go. Say goodbye nicely."

"Goodbye Agent Tony," chorused the youngsters.

"Goodbye, kids. I mean, children," said Tony, "and thank you for the card," he rubbed some glitter off his fingers.

"Here's my number in case you need to get in touch," said Melissa handing Tony a glitter-free slip of paper before leading her charges away.

The three agents watched them go.

"Well," said Ziva, "I would say you stood a chance there, Tony but I don't think that Melissa would want to be Mrs DiNozzo-DaSouza."

Tony gave her what he hoped was a quelling look even as he stowed the number away safely.

"So," he said, "where were we, Probie?"

"I was just trying to understand how you did it, Tony," said Tim, "it was amazing." He stared hard at Tony.

"Stop staring," said Tony, "I don't wear my boxers over my pants."

"What?" asked Ziva.

"It's a Superman reference, Ziva," said Tony.

"Oh," said Ziva, "a movie."

"I didn't mean …" began Tim.

The elevator dinged indicating another arrival.

"DiNutso," said Agent Fornell as he walked into the squad room accompanied by Agent Sacks, "I thought I'd come and check if it was true."

"Agent Fornell," said Tony, "Agent Slacks. I'd say it's a pleasure but you're FBI, so you know that's not true."

Agent Fornell ignored this, "word travels fast. Just wanted to come and say congrats."

"Thanks," said Tony a little gloomily.

"And I bought some Biscotti and some Baci di dama al cioccolato."

"Thank you," said Tony much more enthusiastically.

"Er … Baci di …?" asked McGee.

"Chocolate lady's kisses," translated Ziva, "most appropriate."

"Hey," said Tony, "have one of these cookies," he offered Palmer's tin.

Fornell's nose wrinkled as he examined the contents, "Nah," he said, "gotta go. Just wanted to say well done. And show Agent Sacks what it means to have your boss's back." He shook Tony's hand and turned to go, "Oh, nearly forgot. Here's a coffee. It's got that hazelnut creamer rubbish in. Good work, DiNozzo."

Tony watched them go, realising that Agent Fornell had pronounced his name correctly for the first time. He took a gulp of the latest coffee. McGee was still hovering as was weariness.

"All right, Tim," said Tony, "let's try this again. What don't you understand?"

"How did you manage to do it?" asked Tim, "weren't you scared?"

"Me? DiNozzo, scared?" scoffed Tony, "of course I was scared, McObvious," he added in a different tone, "It was the Boss."

"Then how?" Tim started to say.

"I don't know, Tim," said Tony tiredly, "I just did it. You'd have done it if you had to."

"Do you think?" asked Tim doubtfully.

Tony did doubt but he didn't think it was the time to say so. "We do what we have to," he said, "it's what we do."

"But," said Tim, "I still don't see how you managed it."

"Tim," said Tony, "you don't have to understand everything. Just accept it. I know it's hard that a goofball like me managed to save Gibbs and Maddie but just live with it."

"It's not that," protested Tim, "I don't think you're a goofball. Well, I do think you're a goofball. Everyone does. But that doesn't mean I don't think you're a good agent. It's just …"

"I know," said Tony, "you don't understand. You know, Tim, what I would have said if it had been you or Ziva who'd rescued them?"

"No," said Tim.

"I'd have said good job. That's all you needed to say. You don't have to make it complicated."

"Oh," said Tim.

"Go on," said Tony, "get back to work. I doubt if being half drowned has improved Gibbs' temper any."

"OK," agreed Tim. He went back to his desk but when he got there he turned back and said, "Good job, Tony."

Tony nodded.

Gibbs came back shortly afterwards to find the team working diligently although Tim and Ziva seemed a bit unsettled. As the day passed, in between accepting more handshakes, cups of coffee and cookies, Tony restored things to normal by irritating everyone with movie references, OSU anecdotes and a spit ball marathon.

NCISNCISNCIS

"Go home, Tony," said Gibbs.

"Yes, Boss," said Tony but he continued to sit unmoving at his desk.

Gibbs suppressed a sigh and stood up as if to walk over to Tony's desk. Tony roused himself,

"On it, Boss," he said wearily, "just got to clear this up," he gestured towards his desk.

The tiredness was no longer lurking but had taken over although, oddly, he still had a buzz from all the caffeine. He was beginning to think he'd gone off hazelnut creamer and might move on to black coffee in future. Perhaps he was turning into Gibbs. He shuddered at the thought.

"Leave it," said Gibbs, looking at Tony's trash can which was overflowing with empty coffee cups, and cookie papers, "do it tomorrow."

Tony looked at him as if the world was spinning off its axis. Gibbs was the least mañana type of person he knew.

"It'll keep," said Gibbs, "come on. I'll drive you home. You look as if you're about to fall asleep."

"You have to admit," said Tony defensively, "that it's been a weird day," He looked again at the cookie tins covering his desk, at Abby's flowers, the peanut flavoured termites and at the glitter covered floor. "Good," he added, "but weird."

Gibbs straightened himself, "You deserved it, Tony. That was good work yesterday."

Tony smiled as big a smile as he had the energy for. They walked towards the elevator. Gibbs stopped suddenly,

"You'd better throw Palmer's cookies out. They'll be a biohazard by morning."

AN: I'm sure bamba are delicious but they don't look great!