Author's note: This is the final chapter of this story - a long time in coming, I know, but I finally decided that as hard as it was to write it deserved a resolution. This should wrap the story up, as well as tie it finally back into the Season 8 storyline. Thanks to all my readers and commentators over the years it took for me to write this. 3

When it buzzes in his hand, Gibbs flips the phone open to read the stark black letters against the backlit display. 'He's coming.' Was all it read; Gibbs flashed his car headlights at the car on the opposite side of the road and settled deeper into his seat when all of the lights extinguished, leaving both cars in complete darkness. A car sped by them some time later and it wasn't until after it disappeared around the next bend that a shape eased out of the dark woods across from him and went speeding off in near-silent pursuit; despite the solemnity of the moment he felt a grin briefly crease his face. Only their Ziva could drive a car like that. He gave it one more moment and then he followed, knowing when his headlights illuminated a woman standing, gun pointed down towards a man her partner was handcuffing that it was over.

Relief washed over him, easing the knot of fear that he'd been harboring in his chest for what felt like an eternity. Gibbs slid a hand into his pocket as he walked up to the trio, and then withdrew the first doll, the one from Ducky's car, and dropped it beside Rivera. The man looked up and stammered something almost incomprehensible. Gibbs stared at him, letting the silence stretch, and then he said, "No-one said I was in this safe-house.

He turns away, and walks towards the door. "Who?" he can hear Rivera demanding of his team behind him; "Someone was in there. Who?" Gibb opens the unlocked door and turns to the lit living room, to where the thick curtains had hidden any detail of the falling body from those who'd been outside. And there she is – lying helplessly on the floor, blood already pooling around her body. Before his team lets the struggling Rivera in to kneel beside his sister Gibbs bends down himself; he takes the other doll (the one from Abby's hearse) and makes sure she sees it when he tucks it into her convulsing hand. And then Rivera is there, and he backs away, ignoring her last gasping words.

She's waiting for him, sitting on the edge of his desk in the bullpen, legs swinging while her hands clasped her cell phone anxiously. Her head jerked up at the soft whoosh of the elevator doors and they lock eyes across the dimly-lit space; he takes note of his father and Franks having a conversation by the window but he goes to her first, standing close enough that their legs almost touch and she's forced to stop kicking.

"Hey," she says, voice still uncertain, taking a shaky breath before she continues. "Is it…is it over?"

It's the first time he's allowed himself to smile in what feels like forever, but he smiles for her, taking her face gently between his hands and leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers for a long, calming moment before he lands a gentle kiss there and draws back. "Yeah, Abs." he says it with a confidence that he hadn't been willing to give her before. Before, he had never been sure it wouldn't end badly – for him, for her, for the whole team. But now he truly believed it was done. "Yeah, Abby, it's over."

He pulls her into his embrace when she leans into his chest, and looks towards the men who have started to walk towards them. Mike gives a nod and a brief salute before heading towards the elevator, and Gibbs knows that the small envelope in his hand is plane tickets back to his family. Jenny may have called Franks in on occasion but his mentor has always made Vance uncomfortable – if a few plane tickets get the retired agent out of D.C. faster, he wouldn't be surprised if the funds had come out of the Director's own pocket.

"Well, now," He drew his gaze away from Franks as Jackson put a hand on his shoulder, turning instead back to his father and Abby. "I suppose you better get me back to my shop now, there's a lot of clean-up to be done if I'm gonna open on Monday morning."

It feels good to be doing something productive, without the shadow of doubt hanging over them. Gibbs takes the prying end of the hammer to yet another nail, slowly loosening the boards across the shop's large front windows, looking up at the sound of his father coming out of the back storeroom with another armful of goods to make sure he hadn't grabbed anything too heavy.

"Thanks for staying to help me," the older man said as he wandered towards the back shelves. "You sure you have the time?"

Gibbs heard the clink of jars as his father set the box down and grunted softly as he pulled the last nail free of the plywood sheeting. "You do what you have to do for family." He smiles at his dad and then slowly lowers the sheeting to the ground, leaving them both free to look out into the bright sunshine. At Abby, earphones stuck over her ponytails as she bobbed along to the beat, washing the outside of the store's front windows. At McGee, meticulously repainting where gunfire had torn up the outside woodwork. At Tony, who had shed his shirt somewhere on the pavement while he pushed Jackson's ancient mower across the yard.

The Gibbses shared a smile as Jackson murmered, "Ain't that the truth," in reply.