A/N: Well, believe it or not, we've reached the end which may seem a little rushed, I'll admit. If so, please accept my apologies. My only explanation is that my self-imposed deadline's up, it's been a long day, tomorrow promises to be even longer and I'm having trouble staying awake for some reason. Since I already know I won't have time to post anything tomorrow, this will have to suffice. I hope the ending doesn't seem too sappy or out of character. I may at some point come back and flesh out this chapter a bit more, maybe not. I do have some other plotlines floating around in my head that I plan to put down on paper, too, so look for more from me in the future!

I want to thank everyone who read this and especially those who reviewed or added it to your Favorites list. You all kept me going and I appreciate each and every one of you. Thanks!

Standard disclaimers apply: I still don't own NCIS or its characters and to date I still haven't made any money on this sordid little tale.

Abby Sciuto guided her unsuspecting charge into the small office adjoining the ballistics lab. She smirked as the memory of another unsuspecting charge being led into this very room for the very same purpose popped into her head. The Goth forensic scientist almost giggled at the thought, but stopped herself. Wouldn't want the unsuspecting charge to become suspicious now, would we? she thought to herself.

Everything was ready. She had made sure of that before inviting her friend out for a nice relaxing lunch. She'd driven to a small Italian eatery about an hour away where they could look out the windows and people-watch as they were wont to do at times. They had lingered over their pasta and tiramisu making up stories about the people they saw. They had laughed and for a brief time, both the lines of worry and the controlled mask had fallen away and she could see her friend, the real friend that too often stayed hidden from her and the rest of the world. The conversation on the way back had turned serious, though, and Abby was glad she'd had the foresight to prepare the 'treatment' as she'd come to call it.

She guided her blindfolded friend to the chair, gently pushing on his shoulders until he was seated, and then knelt down to secure the handcuffs that were attached to the table leg (which in turn was bolted to the floor). As Abby lit the aromatherapy candles and explained the purpose of each one, the blindfold was taken off and her friend tried to stand, only to be stopped by the aforementioned handcuffs.

"Abby!"

"You need to relax, Tony," Abby told him, speaking as she would to a very young child, as she slowly backed out of the room. Closing the door and locking it from the outside in case he did manage to get out of the handcuffs, she waved and smiled sweetly.

"I'll see you in an hour, Tony!" she told him.

"Abby!" Tony tried to get her attention as she walked through the ballistics lab to the main lab beyond. "Abby! I have work to do!" he yelled. Realizing she wasn't coming back, he leaned back in the chair and gazed helplessly at the ceiling. Within moments, he was sneezing thanks to the delicate scents of vanilla, lavender and God knew what else wending their way through his nasal passages. Great, he thought, in an hour I'll have the mother of all sinus headaches on top of everything else!

Abby did come back, about thirty minutes later, to find Tony hopelessly congested and miserable. He had quickly given up on breathing through his nose, his throat now so dry he could barely speak without coughing and his eyes were now puffy and watery. Abby felt horrible and couldn't stop apologizing. How could you forget about his stupid allergies! she berated herself. She swore repeatedly that she'd make it up to him as she led him carefully to Autopsy so Ducky could give him something for his sinuses. Unfortunately, Dr. Mallard was unable to do give him any medication due to the painkillers he was already taking. However, he did give Tony an old-fashioned breathing treatment by having him sit with a towel and over his head over a vaporizer filled with Vick's vapor-rub. He stayed like that for about fifteen minutes before taking the towel off his head for the same amount of time. He repeated the treatment another three times before Ducky would let him up. Tony did breathe a bit easier after that, though he smelled like menthol for the rest of the afternoon.

He'd gone back up to the bullpen after the breathing treatment to find his team at their desks, still working hard. He sat down at his desk and glanced at the clock on his desk phone. It was nearing 1700 hours. He looked over at Gibbs, surprised at the hour and confused at the fact that his boss was sitting at his desk instead of ripping a particular someone a new one in interrogation. Why isn't he in interrogation? Tony thought to himself. Maybe he hasn't gotten here yet. Or, maybe he's already here and Boss is letting him stew. Boss does like to do that, he thought. Or., maybe he's already finished the interrogation. That thought gave the senior field agent pause. No. No, boss wouldn't interrogate my father (he's NOT your father! screamed the voice in his head) without me there to observe. He looked over at the other two in the squad room – they were working as if nothing were amiss – and then back to Gibbs. Would he?

"Uh, Boss?" he hesitated, not sure exactly what to say. "Shouldn't you be in interrogation?"

Gibbs did not look up, "Nope. Don't think so, DiNozzo," he replied.

"But, what about…" the question died on his lips as his boss did look at him this time; it was a look he knew well, one that said a head slap would be on its way if he kept it up. Deciding perhaps it was best if he just got back to work, he logged back into his computer and started searching where he'd left off before lunch.

Gibbs had noticed his senior agent's return and, though he didn't say anything, was a little surprised that the man looked a bit worse for wear. He wondered just what Abby had done. He figured it was about time he got some more coffee as well as a sitrep. He got up and started for the elevator, slowing slightly as he passed Tony's desk to take a good look the younger man. He looked like he'd been crying and that got his attention. It wasn't until he had passed the desk that the smell hit him and it almost made him stop dead in his tracks. Why does my senior agent smell like a Hall's cough drop? he wondered. Shaking his head, he decided to get the coffee for himself and a Caf-Pow! for Abby and then find out what was up with his senior agent.

He found the forensic tech sitting forlornly in her office, staring at her computer screen; she was still beating herself up for causing Tony's allergies to flare up and she didn't even take the liquid caffeine when offered.

"Hey, Abs," Gibbs spoke quietly. Never one to beat around the bush, he asked, "What happened with Tony? You two enjoy your lunch?"

The young woman did not look up at him. "Lunch was great," she said in a decidedly un-Abby-like monotone. "We went to that little Italian place we like that's really too far away to go to for lunch. We had fun people-watching and the food was great." Her voice did not change.

"So what happened?" Gibbs gently asked as he set her drink down in front of her. "He looks like he was crying. Was he?" He paused, waiting for her to answer. When she didn't he tried again. "Abby?"

"He wasn't crying," she said, still in a monotone. She paused a moment before continuing. "I'm sorry, Gibbs! I just wanted to help him relax, but I forgot about his allergies and the aromatherapy didn't work. It made everything worse! I left him alone for a little while so he could relax and when I came back he was all congested and he couldn't breathe right and, and, and it's all my fault, Gibbs!" It all had come out in a rush of words and before he knew it, Abby had thrown herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and narrowly avoiding spilling his coffee down his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Gibbs!" she murmured. "I'm so, so, sorry!" He wrapped an arm around her and assured her it would be okay, that Tony would survive. After all, it wasn't the first time his allergies had gotten the best of him and it probably wouldn't be the last. He calmed her down and turned to leave, only to turn back again a second later.

"Why does he smell like a walking cough drop?" he asked.

Abby chuckled, albeit sheepishly, "Ducky made him inhale from a vaporizer full of Vick's vapor rub."

Gibbs smiled and nodded. Makes sense, he thought as he turned back toward the door. He returned to the squad room and the four-member team continued to look for clues that would link William DiNozzo and a potential buyer of arms.

Two hours later, Tony finally found an anomaly among the corporations his father's holding company owned. It turned out to be a shell company with direct ties to another shell company in Ireland that was connected to an arms dealer known as Grace O'Malley. The principle behind the shell under JMD was Tony's uncle, Mario DiNozzo. The team felt they had their connection to a potential buyer. It would take a great deal more legwork to prove it, but at least they had something. Gibbs had just started handing out assignments when the director entered the squad room.

"Jethro," she greeted him, "I just got off the phone with SecNav. He says that with Mercury back in the Navy's possession, it's no longer necessary to pursue this case any further. He considers it closed," she paused before continuing, "I've been ordered to turn over all case evidence and documentation to the FBI and Justice. Of course, we are still free to pursue the kidnapping and assault case against Salvatore Iapalucci and William DiNozzo."

"Director, we just connected a shell company owned by JMD Industries to another shell corporation owned by a suspected arms dealer. Isn't that cause for us to investigate?" Gibbs asked testily.

"Of course it is, Jethro," the director responded, "but as of now it is not a priority. Work it as a cold case." She turned to leave before stating, "I've taken your team off active rotation for now. You're at least half a man short." She gave the team lead a pointed look and then went back up the stairs to her office. It took a moment or two for what she'd said to sink in.

"Wait," McGee started, "so if we're off active rotation, that means" his voice trailed off.

"As of now, we're working cold cases until further notice," Gibbs completed the younger man's thought. "Starting with this one," he added.

Gibbs told them to finish any outstanding reports related to either the Mercury case or the kidnapping and assault case. Once that was done, they could leave for the day. It had been a long, difficult case and they had all worked extremely hard. He decided they deserved this one little break.

The next day they picked up where they left off running down the connection between JMD Industries and the arms dealer Grace O'Malley. During the course of the day they learned that William DiNozzo had been released on his own recognizance pending a yet to be scheduled trial. He returned to New York without speaking with or even seeing the young man he'd raised. McGee gave Abby a copy of the interrogation video with audio, which she promptly cleaned up and after watching it herself, made sure that Tony saw it, too. She knew that he needed to hear what Gibbs had said about him.

Anthony DiNozzo lay awake in his bed staring at the ceiling. Though he was beyond exhausted, completely drained mentally, physically and emotionally, he found that sleep just wouldn't come. It had been a couple of days since he'd learned that his parentage wasn't what he'd thought it was. But, those days had been filled with purpose – the purpose of finding and apprehending the would-be buyer of the Navy's most advanced weapons guidance system. Once he'd gotten over the initial shock of finding out he wasn't really his father's son, he'd been assailed by conflicting thoughts and emotions.

He thought about how his family had treated him while he was growing up, how both his parents had turned to alcohol for whatever reasons they had. Though he'd never known for sure, deep down, he'd always thought that families were not supposed to act the way his did.

He had tried to get away from these thoughts by pouring his energy into the case. Now, as he lay in the quiet, darkened room, it was all he could think about. What would his life be like if he had been his father's biological son? What if his real father had raised him? Hell, who was is real father? He kept thinking about everything he'd gone through as a child. How it seemed both his parents had resented his very existence. He wondered if he had been William DiNozzo's biological child, would it have made a difference? Would he have treated his son differently, with more interest or affection? Tony knew he'd never know for sure, but he liked to think it would have made a difference.

He heard the bedroom door open and watched as the light from the hallway moved slowly across the ceiling.

"You still here, Boss?" he asked quietly.

"Well, yeah, DiNozzo. You didn't think I'd drop you off and just leave, did ya?" Gibbs gently chided from the doorway.

Tony felt a pang of something he couldn't quite identify. "You don't have to stay, Boss," he said. "I'll be fine."

"I know you will. And, I know I don't have to stay," the older man responded.

Gibbs watched the younger man for a moment. He was just about to close the door when he heard his senior field agent's quiet voice.

"Boss?" Tony asked hesitantly. "Can I ask you a personal question? Hypothetically?"

"Sure," Gibbs nodded though he knew the other man probably couldn't see it.

"If you had a kid that you found out wasn't really yours, would you treat them any differently?" Tony asked in a small voice.

Gibbs swallowed. He'd known his friend was wrestling with a lot of issues brought on by the news that he was not who he thought he was, at least as far as his name went. He'd also known, given the bits of information Tony had let slip over the years, that the younger man's childhood had been somewhat less than perfect. The question he'd posed was a perfectly natural one given the circumstances. Knowing that, though, didn't make it any easier a question to answer.

"I don't know, Tony," he answered. "I don't think anyone can really know how they would react to something until they're faced with it." He thought for a moment.

"I don't think you would," Tony said.

The certainty in his agent's voice surprised and, at the same time, humbled Gibbs somewhat. "You need to take me down off that pedestal you got me on, DiNozzo," he advised gently. "I'm just a man."

"Maybe, but you're a good man, the kind of man I want to be."

They shared a few moments of companionable silence. Then, Gibbs said, "I'd like to think to I wouldn't treat them any differently."

"Why not?" Tony asked.

Gibbs response was immediate. "It's not the child's fault." When Tony was silent for a few more minutes, he thought perhaps the younger man had finally fallen asleep. He started to slowly close the door when he heard Tony mutter wistfully, though he wasn't quite sure if he heard it right.

"Wish you could've been my dad."