I have no idea where this came from. I've never written anything like this before! Warning – fluff ahead.

Gibbs was in his workshop when the sound of voices wafted through the open window.

"Why's it called Emcrrtuh?"

"It's not."

"Yes it is."

"No it's not."

"It says Emcrrtuh on the sign."

"No it doesn't."

Gibbs could tell that an argument was brewing so he wiped his hands and prepared to go and referee.

"It says MCRT. Not what you said."

"Emcrrtuh."

"It's not a word. It's letters."

"Huh. Words are made of letters. Don't you know anything?"

"I know. But MCRT isn't a word. It's just letters. Each letter stands for a word."

The younger boy thought about this for a moment but was clearly not convinced.

"All right," he said, "what words?"

"Moated Castle Rising Tall," said the older boy.

"Then why doesn't it say that?"

"Didn't have a long enough piece of wood, Tim," replied Gibbs.

"Oh," said Tim as he digested this, "but you've got lots of wood."

"No need to waste it," said Gibbs, "besides, people know what it means."

"I didn't," pointed out Tim.

"You do now," said Tony already bored with the conversation.

"But other people might not know," persisted Tim, "and then they wouldn't know they'd come to the right place."

Gibbs shrugged; he didn't really care if people didn't arrive.

"Everyone knows," drawled Tony, "we have loads of people turning up. Just walking in. How do they know the gate's always open, Gibbs?"

"Word gets round, Tony," said Gibbs. "People come."

"Yeah. Like Timagee," said Tony.

Gibbs smiled at the nickname. The boy's name was actually Tim, or Timothy, McGee but, in his excitement, Tony had conflated the names and somehow it had stuck. Tim had looked a bit bewildered to be given a new name but he was a placid, agreeable child. His father was a seafaring man who had asked to leave his son with Gibbs the Gruff while he was away on a long voyage. Timagee had taken this in his stride; his real anxiety was that his new guardian might not let him keep his abacus.

The master mariner had looked apologetic, "they tell me my son is a mathematical genius," he said, "His grandmother has encouraged him by giving him that counting frame. The sound of the beads clicking will drive you mad, Master Gibbs but it would be a kindness to allow him to keep it."

Gibbs had nodded but, in truth, he didn't find the noise annoying although Tim's attempts to explain how he did his extraordinary calculations were more tiresome. Tim was often, however, distracted from his abacus by Tony's demands that he come and play with him.

Gibbs had been anxious how Tony would react to having a companion around his own age. He knew that some children did not take well to having a new family member arrive but, as in so many other ways, Tony proved not to be an ordinary child. After a moment or two of blank stillness Tony had produced a dazzling smile and the nickname. Tim and Tony had settled down to a pattern of bickering and one-upmanship which could change instantly into a united front if threatened by an outside force.

That moment of blank stillness had not, however, gone unnoticed by Gibbs and it troubled him as so much had troubled him since Tony had been brought to him. Tomorrow the Seer had asked Gibbs to take Tony.

FLASHBACK

"I can give you little information, Jethro," he had said, "other than to say that it is important, that he is important."

"How old is he?" asked Gibbs.

"About ten years old."

A shadow passed over Gibbs' face.

"I know," sighed the Seer, "it is the age of Caitlyn the Todd when she was killed."

"And how old Ziva was when she wandered off."

"I would not ask if it was not important," said the Seer.

"Why could you not keep him?" asked Gibbs.

"I am about to be called to another responsibility," said Tomorrow, "other people do not listen to the call to serve the Homeland so I must."

Gibbs shifted uncomfortably, "will another be sent in your place?" he asked.

"Gwyniver the Shepherd," said the Seer, "I trust you will respect her office."

It was less a suggestion than a final command and Gibbs recognised it as such. He nodded.

"I will make arrangements for the boy to be sent to you," said Tomorrow as he stood to indicate his visit was over. "And, Jethro, I believe you will be good for one another."

Tony had arrived with a courier a few days later. He greeted Gibbs confidently and offered his hand politely but, to Gibbs' perceptive eye, there was something lurking behind the self-assurance. Surely no child of his age should be so accustomed to meeting strangers on his own?

"Have you come far?" asked Gibbs.

The lad shrugged, "I have had longer journeys," he said.

Gibbs' eyes narrowed at this non-answer.

"Do you want to say goodbye to the man who brought you here?" asked Gibbs.

"No need."

"Tomorrow the Seer entrusted you to my care," said Gibbs.

"I know, Master."

"There is no need to call me Master," said Gibbs, "just call me Gibbs, Anthony."

"Yes, Mas … Gibbs. And please, call me Tony."

"Is this all you brought with you?" Gibbs gestured towards the small bag lying at the boy's feet. "You travel light."

"I have what I need," said Tony simply, "it is best to be prepared. It is a rule."

"Then come, Tony," said Gibbs, "it is time to eat."

He laid his hand on the boy's head and was surprised at the sense of connection he felt. Tony stilled immediately but not it seemed out of fear but out of trust. He lifted his eyes to Gibbs and smiled: a smile of trust rather than the polished self-assurance he had displayed earlier.

"The Seer said you were to be relied upon," he said.

END FLASHBACK

Gibbs smiled at the memory and then, returning to the present, called out,

"Time to eat! Come on, boys."

Timagee seemed to be caught up with calculating how long a piece of wood would be needed to write Moated Castle Rising Tall out in full but Tony, always hungry, ran up enthusiastically. Gibbs placed a hand on his head of unruly hair and, as always, Tony stilled immediately.

Gibbs felt the customary tug at his heart when he touched Tony. There were rooms in his castle which were barred against all comers and there were similar places in his heart which he tried to keep locked. Tony threatened to breach those walls and Gibbs didn't know why. He suspected that Tony too had suffered losses about which he kept silence: perhaps this created an unacknowledged bond between them.

There were times when Gibbs touched Tony and felt something melt so much in him that he longed to embrace the lad but, although Tony stilled he did not often move into Gibbs' touch. There were times when Tony did lean slightly into Gibbs' hand but oddly these didn't happen when Tony had his moments of sadness but were more apt to happen when he had done something well and was full of confidence. So, when Tony ran fast or climbed high, he would react to Gibb's touch but when he was unhappy he seemed unwilling to trust that comfort would be given to him and he remained proudly tall. Sometimes, however, Tony's confident mood would coincide with Gibbs' softness and he would lean into Gibbs and they would embrace.

Today was not one of those days and the two simply stood there absorbing one another's presence.

"Timothy," called Gibbs, "leave your counting for now. It's time for food."

Tim paused and looked up at the sun and Gibbs guessed that his accurate mind was assessing whether it really was time for food. Tony knew no such niceties and was always ready to eat. Gibbs sometimes wondered if the boy always took the opportunity to eat because he had known times when food had not been provided. He shook his head, there was no point in such thoughts; while Tony was with him there would always be food on the table.

"Come on, TimageeTardy," called Tony.

"TimageeTardy?" queried Gibbs with a smile. Tony loved to embellish Tim's name.

"Apothecary Mallard taught me the word," said Tony.

"The apothecary taught you TimageeTardy?" asked Gibbs in disbelief.

"No," giggled Tony, "he taught me tardy. I think it goes with Tim."

Tim ran up, "then I think you're Tony the … the … tiresome!"

"TimageeMoaner," Tony retaliated.

"TonyTrivial," said Tim. "Tony the greedy!"

"That doesn't work," said Tony, "you've got to follow the rules."

"Why?" said Tim.

"Games have rules," said Tony, "they don't work if you don't follow the rules."

Tim shuffled some beads on his abacus. "You won't find the answer there," said Tony crossly, "not everything's about sums."

"It's called mathematics," said Tim loftily, "and it's got the answers to everything. You can do anything with sums … mathematics."

"Come on, boys," said Gibbs, "dinner is waiting. And I didn't use the abacus to make it."

Tony and Tim giggled together at the thought of Gibbs using the counting frame and forgot their quarrel. As they ate their bread, cheese and soup Tony returned to the question of names.

"When do we get our names?" he asked.

Gibbs was puzzled. "You have your name."

"No," said Tony, "I mean the extra bits. You're Gibbs the Gruff. When did you get the Gruff part?"

Gibbs didn't know how to answer. He could remember a time when he wasn't Gibbs the Gruff but he had no intention of talking about that to the boys. "Well," he said, "sometimes you just grow into a name."

"Like Tony the Tiresome," said Tim through a mouthful of bread. "Or Tony the Terrible." He chuckled.

Gibbs' smile faded when he saw that Tony looked anxious. "What's the matter, Tony?"

"Will I really be Tony the Tiresome?" he asked.

Gibbs was saved from answering by the arrival of the Apothecary. "It is very unusual, my boy, for a childhood nickname to become the soubriquet of the adult."

"Soubriquet?" asked Tony, turning this new word over in his mouth.

"Nickname," said Gibbs.

"Oh," said Tony, "so I won't be Tony the Tiresome when I'm grown up?"

"You will if you are," said Tim.

"Are what?" asked Tony.

"Tiresome. Or terrible," replied Tim.

"Is that true?" said Tony to Gibbs.

"Yes, I guess so," said Gibbs, "so you'll just have to make sure you live up to something else."

"Like what?" asked Tony.

"There are many possibilities, Tony," said the doctor, "Tony the Terrific."

"I like that," agreed Tony.

"Or you could be known by Anthony," suggested Mallard. "Anthony the Awesome. Anthony the Articulate."

Gibbs cast a grateful look at his friend for having cheered Tony up.

"Why don't you two go and play for a while," said Gibbs, "I think the Apothecary wants to speak to me."

Tony and Tim jumped down from the table. Tony gave an oddly formal bow and said,

"Thank you, Master Apothecary, I will try and live up to the names you have given." Then he turned and ran from the room. "Come on, TimageeMathematician," he called.

"An interesting child," observed Mallard.

"You could say that," said Gibbs feelingly.

"And of course," said the doctor, "it is interesting to think about living up to names."

"Is it?"

"Of course. You rarely use your given name."

"Apothecary Mallard?" said Gibbs dampeningly.

"I doubt if many people even know it," said the doctor, "they think of you as Gibbs the Gruff. Or perhaps Jethro."

Gibbs took a gulp of ale in a way which signalled disapproval.

"Few people know that you are actually Leroy Jethro Gibbs." Gibbs still said nothing and the apothecary continued, "Names are so interesting, are they not? And your young charges seem to think that living up to names is important. And Leroy … it means king, you know."

"Master Apothecary," said Gibbs coldly, "is this what you came to talk to me about?"

"No, it is not. Forgive my intrusion. I am somewhat distracted. There is sickness in the village."

"That is your area of expertise," pointed out Gibbs.

"I agree that usually it is. However, my efforts have proved unavailing."

"Ducky," said Gibbs using the nickname only he would dare to use, "please …"

"I would not ask if I thought there was some other way," said the doctor, "and it is Eleanor, the high priest's daughter who is the most sick."

Gibbs buried his face in his hands. The sense of connection he had felt when he had first touched Tony had triggered something in him, a new sensitivity, a power in his hands.

FLASHBACK

"I don't feel well," said Tony as he walked listlessly into Gibbs' workshop.

"Is this because the teacher wants you to go for extra lessons?" asked Gibbs drily, not taking his eyes off his carving.

"I like Master Palmer," said Tony, "he's funny. And he's not afraid to make mistakes. I don't mind the extra work."

"Good," said Gibbs, absently running his finger over a knot in the wood that threatened the beauty of his work. "You can go down after we've eaten."

"I'm not hungry," said Tony quietly.

Gibbs' head jerked up at that. Tony was never not hungry.

"Tony?" he said, putting his hand on the boy's forehead. Anxiety washed over him as he felt the heat coming off Tony. "How long have you felt like this?"

"Since this morning," said Tony.

"Why didn't you tell me?" asked Gibbs.

"I didn't know I had to," said Tony with a hint of a whine, "is it a rule?"

"It is now," said Gibbs grimly, "let's get you into bed."

He led an uncomplaining Tony away and made him as comfortable as he could. Then he went to find Tim.

"Tim, are you feeling all right?" he asked.

"Yes," said Tim, "why?"

Gibbs put his hand to Tim's forehead and was relieved to find it cool and dry.

"Tim. I want you to go down to the village and find the Apothecary. Tell him that Tony is sick."

"Sick?" said Tim anxiously.

"He'll be fine," said Gibbs, "but I want you to tell Master Apothecary to come at once. And, Tim, don't come back."

"Ever?" said Tim in a panic, "I know I'm annoying with the abacus but I'll do better, I promise. Please don't send me away."

Gibbs stooped down so he could look in the frightened boy's eyes, "I'm not sending you away. But I don't want you to get sick. Go to the Shepherd. Mistress Gwyniver will let you stay with her. You can play with Abigail her maid."

"All right," said Tim brightening at the thought of playing with the maid, "but you're sure I can come back?"

"I'm sure," said Gibbs, dropping a rare kiss on the boy's head, "now go. Run as fast as you can."

The apothecary arrived soon after.

"Well, Gibbs," he said as he bustled in, "I hear that Tony is unwell. My word, I don't recall him ever being sick before. Don't worry, he'll soon be up and running about. Children bounce back quickly, you know."

Gibbs found his worries easing at the doctor's confidence and he led Mallard to Tony's room.

"Now, my boy," said the doctor cheerfully, "what do we have here?"

Tony didn't answer but tossed about in his bed. Gibbs' anxiety increased again as he saw the frown on the apothecary's face. Mallard stood up and gestured to Gibbs to step outside the room.

"I don't like the look of this, Jethro. I have heard stories about a disease like this."

"Disease?" said Gibbs.

"I believe it is the sweating sickness," said Mallard.

"If you know what it is, you can cure it?" insisted Gibbs.

"Alas no. From what I have read there is no obvious cure. We must keep the boy as calm and comfortable as possible. He will want to sleep but we should not let him."

"But sleep is good for him," argued Gibbs.

"One of the symptoms is an overwhelming desire to sleep," said the doctor, "but many patients do not waken from that sleep. It is not a sleep which cures."

So Gibbs had taken his place by Tony's bed and talked to him incessantly in a bid to prevent him from falling asleep. The boy had pleaded to be allowed to rest but Gibbs was firm and Tony was accustomed to obedience. The apothecary remained with them but, as the hours of night passed he began to despair. He had seen many people slip away in the darkest hours just before dawn and he feared that another young life was about to join them. He walked over to the bedside to prepare Gibbs for the worst.

He placed a gentle hand on Gibbs' shoulder,

"Jethro, my friend, it is time to let him go. Let him sleep."

Gibbs looked up, "but you said to keep him awake."

"Jethro, look at him, he is barely breathing. It is time to say your goodbyes. Let his suffering end."

Gibbs gazed at his friend with despair in his eyes and then nodded. He turned back to the bed and placed a hand on Tony's head as he had done so often in the past. He swallowed down his grief so that Tony's last memory should not be of sadness,

"Tony," he began, and then stopped as he felt the familiar sense of connection with the boy. Almost without thinking he pressed a little harder, "Tony, don't die. Come back. Don't die, my boy."

Apothecary Mallard had seen many inexplicable things in his long career but what he saw now was beyond anything he had experienced. As Gibbs continued to hold Tony's head, the boy's breathing strengthened and he grew calmer. Gibbs looked up in astonishment,

"Ducky. He's cooler. I think he's getting better!"

And so it proved. Somehow Gibbs' touch had healed the boy. Tony took a long time to recover but the sweating sickness was deprived of another victim. There was a cost, however. Something of Gibbs' own sadness seemed to have fallen on to Tony and he was uncharacteristically melancholy for some weeks until his cheerfulness prevailed and he was back to teasing Timagee again.

END FLASHBACK

Gibbs lifted his face from his hands.

"Ducky," he said, "are they willing to pay the price?"

"The high priest is aware that his daughter may fall into depression if you are successful," said the doctor.

Gibbs sighed, "I don't why it happens," he said, "I try not to pass my own … worries on but it seems to happen."

"I know, my friend. But they recover and I do not know of anyone who regrets the melancholy. Eleanor is a sweet child. You cannot turn your back on her."

"No," said Gibbs heavily, "I'll come at once."

Gibbs and the doctor went to tell the boys they were going to the village.

"Eleanor is ill," said Mallard, "your guardian is going to assist me."

"Are you going to cure her?" asked Tony, "like you did me?"

"I'll try," said Gibbs.

"You'll do it," said Tony, "you always do what you say you'll do."

"I'll try," repeated Gibbs, placing his hand on Tony's head and feeling the customary feeling of connection.

"I'll come too," said Tony.

"No," said Gibbs, "stay here until it's time to go to Master Palmer's house."

"I should come," said Tony, "I can help."

"Tony," said Mallard, "this is Master Gibbs' particular gift. It is his task to perform."

"But it makes him sad," persisted Tony, "and it will make EllieExcellent sad too."

"You have a nickname for Eleanor?" said Mallard."

"A soubriquet," said Tony cheekily.

The two men laughed.

"See," said Tony, "you laughed. Perhaps if I come with you the sadness won't be there."

Mallard looked at Gibbs, "what do you think? You are the expert in these matters."

"Not much of an expert," said Gibbs, "I don't know how it works." He bent down to look Tony in the eyes, "Tony, do you want to do this? It might make you sad rather than make me happy. Have you thought of that?"

"I've been sad before," said Tony, "but I won't be sad forever. And I might not be sad. You might be happy. And that would be better, wouldn't it?"

Gibbs placed his hand on Tony's head again. He wasn't sure but somehow it felt right and he had learned to trust his instincts around Tony. "Come on then. Anthony the Awesome!"

Tony laughed delightedly and leaned into Gibbs so that they formed a rare embrace. They walked down to the village with Gibbs keeping his arm around Tony.

At the priest's house they found Eleanor's family clustered round anxiously. Gibbs approached the child's bed and thought what to do.

"I'll hold her hand," suggested Tony, "and perhaps you have one hand on my head and one on hers. Do you think that will work?"

Gibbs nodded. He placed his hands as directed by Tony and closed his eyes. He felt the familiar connection to Tony and then felt as if he was falling into a deep hole. Moments later he sensed a lightening around him and excited voices. He opened his eyes to find that he was lying on a bed with Ellie and Tony sitting next to him.

"What?" he said.

"Ah, Jethro," said Ducky, "at last. You have been unconscious for some hours. It is high time you came back to 'resume' your responsibilities! I will go and alert the medical staff that you have returned."

"Hey, Boss," said Tony, "you gave us a bit of a scare there. Never seen a suspect get the better of you in interrogation before. Don't worry, Vance took over. I think he was looking forward to it."

Bishop looked at Gibbs' confused face and decided to let him recover with a bit more peace.

"Glad to see you back, Boss," she said softly, bending down to give him a gentle kiss.

"Boss?" said Tony, "you back with us?"

Gibbs smiled at his odd dream. He gestured to Tony to come closer. Tony obeyed, looking slightly worried as he prepared for a head slap. Gibbs put his hand on Tony's head and, he thought, felt the connection. That, he decided, had not been a dream.

"Yeah. Back with you, Anthony the Awesome!"

"Boss? Are you sure you're OK?"

AN: I had to bring it back to the present as my head was spinning at the thought of creating an entire alternative universe for this version of the MCRT to exist in.

Characters are safely back in their modern day container.