Gibbs went out early the next day to check with Captain Dake about Petty Officer Symonds. When he returned to Tony's house, he sensed a difference: the windows were open, and the smell of baking bread wafted towards him. Gibbs knocked at the door rather than walking straight in.

"Hello," said the blue-eye brunette who opened the door. "You must be Gibbs … sorry, Mr Gibbs."

"Gibbs is fine," said Gibbs automatically, "And how did you know?"

A laugh was the answer, "Tony described you. And I don't think I know many silver haired men with scary blue eyes!"

"Scary?"

"Don't deny it! I'm sure it comes in very useful!"

"I'm not admitting anything," said Gibbs. "And I'm guessing you're Mrs Paddington-DiNozzo?"

"Oh, please! Call me Lucy … or if you can't manage that, try Mrs PD. Life's too short to keep saying Paddington-DiNozzo. The trouble is Tony can't bear to drop either part of the name, so we're stuck."

"Pleased to meet you, Lucy," said Gibbs.

Lucy smiled back, "And It's good finally to meet you, Gibbs. Come in, the bread has just come out of the oven … and although my mother's cook used to say we had to wait until it was cold before we could eat it – well, it tastes so good when it's warm."

"Yes, it does," agreed Gibbs as he realised that the smell of the bread and Lucy's words brought back memories of a Pennsylvania kitchen and a mother scolding a small boy for sneaking pieces of crust off a freshly baked loaf. He followed her into the kitchen, "You back for good?" he asked.

Lucy gestured for him to sit at the pine table. "Yes," she said as she cut off a good chunk of bread, "Help yourself to butter. Yes, we came back this morning. The threat from Mickey Symonds is gone … and I think Tony is feeling better. Time to come back. And I think I owe you a thank you for that."

"No need," said Gibbs, "I didn't do much. Just listened. And Tony helped me a few years back."

Lucy stared at him in a way that was oddly reminiscent of a Tony gaze, "I think you did quite a lot," she said finally, "But I don't think you want a fuss, so I'll simply say, thank you and I'm grateful – more grateful than you can know."

"Enough said," said Gibbs firmly before putting a huge piece of bread in his mouth as a way of forestalling further conversation.

It seemed, however, that Lucy was a woman of her word and she contented herself with simply producing a large cup of coffee for Gibbs. Gibbs continued to eat his way through his bread and butter and decided that his gut said that he liked Lucy: she seemed to be a serene and calm person although with an underlying sense of mischief which probably made she and Tony a potentially dangerous combination.

"How much longer is the building work going on?" asked Gibbs when he had finished his piece of bread.

Lucy cut him another slice, "Not too much longer. PC Travers … you've met PC Travers?"

Gibbs nodded, "Can't really help it. He seems to be everywhere."

Lucy smiled, "I know what you mean. Tony swears that the whole Plymouth police force would collapse without him … although he doesn't say that when Uncle Cyril is around!" Gibbs nodded as he remembered that Lucy's aunt was married to the Assistant Chief Constable.

"And what about Travers?" prompted Gibbs as he liberally spread butter on the bread.

"Oh yes. PC Travers' brother-in-law's cousin's best friend's brother's nephew …"

"Have you just made that up?" demanded Gibbs.

"I might have done," admitted Lucy, "But you get the gist …"

"Barely," groused Gibbs with a grin.

"PC Travers knows the people who are doing the work. And he's going to get them organized over the next couple of weeks while Tony and I are away."

"Where are you going?"

"Back to Netley Green for a holiday. We need to go far enough away that we won't interfere, and that Tony won't get called back to work."

"Good idea," said Gibbs, "Good place, Netley Green – restful."

"And believe me, that's what we need," said Lucy cheerfully. "But some of the work is done. Would you like to see my studio?"

"Your studio? Are you …"

"An artist? Yes. I see that Tony didn't talk to you about me … never mind. Yes, I'm an artist. And the studio was only really finished yesterday. I've moved my stuff in. Come and see."

Gibbs swallowed the last mouthful and followed Lucy. She briefly looked into another room and Gibbs guessed that she was checking on her baby but before he could ask, she threw open another door and he saw the studio with paintings piled up against the walls and a couple of works in progress on easels.

"These are good," said Gibbs as he gazed at the water colours and oil paintings of land and seascapes interspersed with the occasional portrait.

"Thank you," said Lucy. "They're popular, sell well. I'm getting ready for my first exhibition in London."

"I can see why they sell," said Gibbs, "They've got something about them – I haven't been to any of these places, but I get the sense of what they're like."

"Thank you," said Lucy again, "I'm glad you like them. Actually, there is one of somewhere you know …" she rummaged in a pile and brought out an oil painting, "This is of Picklecombe Fort."

Gibbs suppressed a wince as he remembered their lucky escape at the Fort when the would-be assassins turned out to have poor aim.

"What are those?" he asked, pointing to some paintings propped up in a corner.

"Oh," said Lucy, "They're an experiment. Just blocks of colour that I see in the landscape … sort of the essence of what I see rather than the detail …"

"They're good," said Gibbs as he went closer. "I do wood working … and sometimes it feels that I'm trying to get to the heart of the wood. These paintings are like that."

Lucy nodded, apparently pleased that someone liked them, "That's it!" she said, "I didn't think people would like them. I wasn't sure whether to put any in the exhibition."

"I'm no judge," said Gibbs, "But I think you should."

Lucy held out the painting of Picklecombe, "I thought you might like this," she said, "You know, as a thank you … and as a memento."

"Thank you," said Gibbs, "But …"

"But what?"

"Could I have one of those instead?" He pointed to the abstract paintings. "If you don't need them all for your exhibition?"

"Are you sure? You don't have to be polite, you know."

Gibbs grinned, "Ask your husband – I don't do polite!"

Gibbs and Lucy parted on good terms with Gibbs telling Lucy that Mrs Damerell had sorted out the confusion over her guest house booking and now had a room for him. Gibbs said he would come back later to collect his things and move out.

XXXXXX

Gibbs arrived back at Saltash in the early evening and saw Tony in his front garden. As he approached, he heard Tony say,

"And that's a plant … with green leaves. And this is another one … this one has pointy leaves. And this one has pink flowers …"

"Didn't take you for a gardener," said Gibbs drily.

Tony turned around, "And I'm guessing you still don't! Gibbs, meet Andrew …"

Gibbs nodded as he realised that Tony was holding his son as he talked about the garden. Gibbs was good with children but didn't quite know how to talk to a baby while under the watchful eye of a parent, so he settled for holding out a finger. It seemed that Andrew, like his father, wanted to please people so obligingly took it in his hand and then, not so obligingly, put it in his mouth. Tony gently pulled it out, "Fortunately, he's not got any teeth yet," he remarked.

"Good grip," commented Gibbs.

"Yes," said Tony proudly, "I think he's going to be a rugby player."

"Do rugby players need a good grip?" asked Gibbs curiously.

"Oh," said Tony, "I suppose so, but I just think he'll be good at rugby."

Gibbs suppressed a grin as he realised that Tony was simply unashamedly proud of his son.

"Lucy said you were coming back to pick up your gear," said Tony. "You don't have to move out, you know."

"Best to," said Gibbs, "After all, we'll be leaving soon. Best to break myself in gradually."

"What?"

"You know, get used to being without you," said Gibbs with a straight face.

"McGee told me you only make one joke a year … and that you made one the other day. What's up?"

"Must be the sea air," said Gibbs solemnly.

Tony stared at Gibbs, "I get the feeling you blame a lot on the sea air!"

"He's not crying," observed Gibbs.

"What?"

"You said your son cried whenever you picked him up," Gibbs reminded him.

"As he grows up he's getting to be more discriminating," said Tony. "And I might have exaggerated a little. It's just when you're feeling …"

"Low?"

"Yes, low – well, things get to you that you'd shrug off other times. And a baby's cry just gets to me … or it does now that I'm a parent: before that I just thought it was an annoying noise but now …"

"I know," said Gibbs.

"You sure you want to move out?" asked Tony, "I mean, you're almost one of the family now. Lucy won't mind."

"We're heading out tomorrow," said Gibbs.

"You are?"

"The Nevada leaves port tomorrow. We're going with her."

"We? You're taking Tim on a boat?"

"She's making some courtesy calls along the South coast: Southampton, Portsmouth and then finishing up in London. We won't be going far out into the Channel, so McGee should be OK. And we can test your theory about his seasickness."

"Fair enough," said Tony. He looked closely at Gibbs as he added, "And it will give you more chance to test out whether having someone from the Office of Naval Intelligence sailing with the US Navy is a good idea."

"Yes, it will," said Gibbs blandly.

Tony sighed as he gave up, for the time being, on working out why Gibbs and McGee were really in England. "How long will you be in this country?"

"Not sure. The Nevada has another week before she goes off to the Mediterranean. Depends when we can get a ship back."

"If you're still around for 19th July … there's something you could come to in Netley Green," suggested Tony tentatively.

"We'll see," said Gibbs, "Give me the details."

Tony nodded and shifted the baby in his arms, "In case we don't see you – I'll say thank you again, Gibbs. I'm not sure what you did or how you did it, but I feel better … I'm still worried but it seems more manageable now."

"No need for thanks," said Gibbs.

Tony held out his hand and Gibbs shook it. "Tim said you were thinking about making a list of rules," said Tony, "I hope not accepting thanks won't be on it."

"We'll see," said Gibbs.

XXXXXX

"Welcome to Netley Green," said Gibbs when he drew the rented car to a halt outside the Woolpack Inn in Netley Green the following Saturday.

"Woolpack?" asked Tim as he looked around. "Wasn't that the pub where you found Lincoln Symonds?"

"Yes. I get the feeling that the British aren't all that imaginative in naming their pubs," said Gibbs.

"You may be right," came a familiar if unexpected voice from the shade outside the inn, "It is something which I intend to study when I have the time. Although I will admit that I have already given the subject a great deal of informal attention in my peregrinations around the country visiting local hostelries …"

"Ducky! Dr Mallard!" exclaimed Gibbs and McGee in unison.

"Indeed," said Ducky as he walked towards them. "It is a pleasure to see you both again. Timothy, you are looking a lot leaner than when last I saw you. In general, I would commend efforts to lead a healthy life style, but I would also want to caution you about the dangers of …"

"Er, Boss," said Tim hastily, "I'll go in and make sure they have our rooms' booking!"

Gibbs discerned a look of satisfaction on Ducky's face and he suspected the good doctor of some subterfuge in getting rid of McGee. Ducky spotted the look and had the grace to look a little ashamed,

"Quite right, Jethro. And I will make amends to young Timothy later. I wanted, however, to have an opportunity of a private conversation with you before the festivities of the weekend begin."

At that moment the landlord of the pub came out with two tankards of beer, "Saw you arriving and thought you might be in need of some lubrication."

"Thank you … Barthrop, isn't it?" said Gibbs.

"Yes, Sir. And you're a friend of Mr Anthony, aren't you? I remember seeing you a few years back. Well, enjoy the beer, it's my finest brew. Your room is ready when you want it." With that, he withdrew feeling that honours were equal with Gibbs remembering his name and Barthrop remembering who Gibbs was.

"You did well with Anthony," said Ducky after he had taken his first sip of the ale.

"Hmm," said Gibbs in reply.

"We all felt something was wrong but could not work out what it was, but Anthony tells me that he finally shared his … worries … with you."

"And McGee," said Gibbs sparing a moment from enjoyment of his drink.

"Indeed. Excellent. Well, Anthony has now felt able to share what was weighing him down. You know, doctors have long been aware that women can suffer from depression and anxiety following the birth of a baby, but it is now being recognised that men can suffer from similar symptoms when they become fathers. They often can become anxious and over worried about their children."

"And that's what happened with DiNozzo?"

"I believe so. And of course, it may well be that some of the feelings of worry stem from suppression of anxieties in the war years. Who knows?"

"But he'll get better?" asked Gibbs.

"I believe so. Anthony has a lot going for him … I believe you have met Lucy, his wife?" Gibbs nodded. "A delightful girl. Although of course, I am biased."

"You are?"

"Indeed. Lucy's mother is my cousin, so we are related. In fact, it was through me that Lucy and Anthony met."

"I didn't know that," said Gibbs.

"Yes, I have never tried matchmaking before, but my first attempt was so successful, I feel I should try it again." He looked at Gibbs speculatively.

"No!" said Gibbs firmly, "No way!"

"As you wish," said Ducky serenely, "But we were talking about Lucy. She is very good for Anthony – and he for her – so I believe he will come through this difficult time. Indeed, I think he looks better already now that he no longer feels he has to carry the burden alone."

"Good," said Gibbs.

"It was most fortuitous that you had an assignment in England," said Ducky thoughtfully, "And one in Plymouth …"

"Guess so," said Gibbs. He finished his beer, "Want another?" he asked, signalling that the conversation was over.

XXXXXX

The next day, in the afternoon, Gibbs was standing by the War Memorial just outside the church when Tony's aunt, Lady George Paddington approached him.

"It was a lovely service, wasn't it, Mr Gibbs?"

"Yes, it was," said Gibbs.

"I am so glad that Tony and Lucy decided to bring Andrew here for his baptism."

Gibbs looked at her closely, "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Of course, it brought back memories of when my Andrew was baptized at that font … all the hopes and dreams I had for him … we never imagined what would happen. But they're happy memories and I try to hold on to that. And now, of course, I have this new Andrew." She smiled a somewhat watery smile. "And I want to thank you … and Mr McGee … for all that you did for Tony."

Gibbs sighed, he was becoming weary with all the Paddington thanks, "I didn't do much," he said once again.

"I think we both know that's not true," said Lady George, "Tony needed to share his worries and, somehow, you managed to make that happen."

"I'm not sure," said Gibbs, "Your nephew is pretty resilient. I reckon he'd find a way through in the end."

"Very well," said Lady George, "I won't press the matter but will simply say thank you"

Gibbs nodded.

"Now, come and meet the rest of the family – we are having a celebration tea in my garden. Tony's grandfather will wish to speak with you … and his cousin Crispian, the godfather, is also here."

As Lady George went to move off, Gibbs stopped her, "You will carry on writing, won't you? You know, keep me informed?"

She turned and smiled, "Certainly."

A few minutes later, Gibbs and McGee were in Lady George's garden where Gibbs introduced McGee to the wonders of Mrs Pond's jams and preserves. Dora Pond, Lady George's housekeeper, and the mother of the Gordon after whom Tony's son had been named, was a happy if restrained presence at the party. McGee became an instant favourite with her as he started eating his way through a variety of homemade scones and jams with cream from the Netley Estate's Home Farm.

As Gibbs watched his colleague eat, he became aware that Tony had come to stand next to him.

"If Tim carries on eating like that, he'll be back to his former weight in no time," he commented.

"Still got an Atlantic crossing to get through," replied Gibbs, "That'll help."

"Did he get seasick on the trip up to London?"

"No," conceded Gibbs, "But it was smooth most of the way. Atlantic will be different."

"He may surprise you," said Tony.

"Here," said Gibbs, "Got something for Andrew." He handed Tony a small box.

"Gibbs! We can't take this," said Tony when he saw the contents.

"Yes, you can. I'm not going to wear them," said Gibbs as he looked at the gold cufflinks given to him by the King. "They're more his sort of thing."

"How do you know?" demanded Tony.

"He's your son," said Gibbs simply. "I've kept the letter that came with them – that's more important than the cufflinks."

"If you're sure," said Tony. "Of course you're sure. You're always sure. We'll make sure he treasures them."

Tim looked up momentarily from his scones and saw that Gibbs had delivered a gift. Tony noticed approvingly that Tim was wearing the tiepin which had been his gift from the King and then that he was holding out a package.

"For Andrew," said Tim, "For his Christening … I mean, baptism … I mean …"

"Thank you, Tim. You know, we didn't invite you both here to get presents."

"Well, in that case …" said Tim making to withdraw the package.

"But we're very grateful," said Tony hastily as he grabbed the parcel. He tore the wrappings off.

"It's a children's science book," said McGee happily. "It's the latest edition of The Children's Wonderful World of Science. What's the matter?" he asked in sudden concern at the look on Tony's face.

Tony shook his head, "That's amazing, Tim!"

"Really?" said Tim, "'cos you look kinda shocked …"

"I am," said Tony, "My Mom gave me the edition that was around when I was eight – it was the last gift she ever gave me. And it got me interested in science. Thank you, it's great. Perfect!"

Mrs Pond sensed the success of Tim's gift and, as a reward, came over with a slice of her famous fruit cake. Tony went to show the gifts to Lucy while Gibbs sat down next to Tim.

"So, Boss," said Tim, "Let me try this again - we came here because you knew Tony was in trouble? You knew SecNav wanted someone to try out this floating agent idea and you volunteered us? Nobody could believe it when we got the job – everyone assumed there was some hidden reason behind it. And there was, wasn't there? It's just that it wasn't a matter of national security. Am I right?"

Gibbs stared at Tim over a scone piled high with cream and strawberry jam, "Like I said before, you've got a good imagination, Tim. You really should write a book."

"Well," said Tim, deciding to seize the moment, "I wanted to talk to you about that …"

XXXXXX

Later that afternoon, Gibbs went and found Tony and Lucy, "We have to be going now. We've got an early morning sailing from Southampton."

"One last chance," said Tony, "For you to tell me what you and Tim were really doing. What your assignment was."

"You know what it was," said Gibbs, "All the other stuff that happened was just coincidence." He blinked as he remembered that his potential list of rules contained one about coincidences, but he continued, "And we've got useful information to take back to SecNav."

"That's the Secretary of the Navy," whispered Tony to Lucy before grinning at Gibbs, "Well, I'm glad you came," he said finally, "It's always … an experience."

"Offer's still there," said Gibbs.

"Offer?" asked Lucy.

"Gibbs once offered me a job with the Office of Naval Intelligence," said Tony. He turned to Gibbs, "Thanks, but no thanks. I've got a lot going on here at the moment."

"Fair enough," said Gibbs. "Fair winds and following seas. To all of you."

Lucy leaned forward and kissed Gibbs on the cheek. Tony shook his hand warmly but said nothing more.

"Car's ready, Boss," said Tim coming up at that moment.

"Thanks, Tim … for everything!" said Tony shaking him by the hand as well.

"It was … an experience," said Tim unwittingly echoing Tony's earlier words, "And you know, we never got a chance to talk about your Natural Sciences degree …"

"McGee!" snapped Gibbs from the garden gate, "Get a move on!"

"Coming, Boss," said Tim for what seemed the millionth time since he met Gibbs.

XXXXXX

Later that evening, while Lucy was putting Andrew to bed, Tony sat with his Aunt in the garden.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"Oh, lots of things. Too many to list. But I meant thank you for what you did a few weeks ago."

"What do you mean?"

"Writing to Gibbs."

"Pardon?"

"I think you wrote to Gibbs saying that you thought I was in trouble of some kind. And I think that you glimpsed what it was … naming the baby Andrew brought back memories for you and I think you knew that it did for me too. That perhaps I wasn't coping …"

"Tony …"

"Aunt Lottie, I know that you were in contact with Gibbs … he told me about the cutting about the wedding – although he thought it was from the Titler!"

"I …"

"And it's the only thing that makes sense. I thought to start with that he and McGee were on some sort of secret mission but I'm pretty sure that wasn't the case. It took me a long time to work it out …"

"Why?"

"Because at first it seemed impossible that someone should travel that far to help me."

"But …"

"But in the end, when I eliminated the impossible …"

"Whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth," said Lady George, completing the quotation. "You and your Uncle George always loved your Sherlock Holmes."

"Yes," smiled Tony, "I realised it was the only possible reason for Gibbs to have come to Plymouth. Nurse-maiding sailors is the last job his superiors would have given him, but it gave him the alibi to come."

"Did you tell him?" asked Aunt Lottie.

"No," said Tony, "I thought about it, but I decided to respect his silence. He didn't want anyone to know how much he cared, how much effort he was prepared to put in to help someone he barely knew … those were the terms on which he wanted to help. I decided I owed him the right to do it the way he wanted."

"I think you're right," said Aunt Lottie, "He's an … unusual man."

Tony laughed and clinked his tea cup against his Aunt's, "You have a way with words!"

"What are you laughing about?" asked Lucy, coming into the garden at that moment.

"Nothing," said Tony, "Everything! Suddenly there seems a lot to be happy about!"

AN – finished at last. I nearly spilled over into yet another chapter but decided I couldn't try your patience any longer, so this is a longer chapter than planned.

Obviously, I don't own the characters whom I have returned, in good shape, to their 21st century boxes.

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time and trouble to review – it is much appreciated.