He was bored. Mike wasn't much of a conversation partner, and even though he liked to fish, and drink beer until he was wasted, he had gotten fed up with it.

The warm Mexican sun had nearly burned his skin off in the first few weeks, and he had spent several hours a day in the water and catch fish with his bare hands, because it had hurt so much. But now, ever since his skin adjusted to the heat, he wore his greenish tank top and kaki shorts, he had always wanted to do that but since he never went to the beach, and since it wasn't the dress code of NCIS agents, he could never. Camilla told him that he looked ‘hot', even for his ‘old age' that he could get any girl he wanted. Camilla even tried to seduce him, but he didn't give in to her. Even though he was in Mexico, his heart was still only for Ducky.

He was slowly regaining his memory. The stunt he pulled in MTAC about 6 weeks ago had been a façade. Ziva had instructed him. He remembered his team, but that was it. Ziva had told him about Pin Pin. Ziva had told him about the Cape Fear. Ziva… he hated her, he knew that. He didn't trust her, even though she had killed her half brother. He knew he did. He remembered that. Jenny, or the Director, had lied to him. She had put Ziva on his team, to replace Kate. The memory of losing Kate hurt him. It had been his fault. He had dragged his team into his ‘war' with Ari. He had put Kate on that roof, together with himself and Tony. It hadn't been right. Kate had been a great agent, and his inner chauvinist didn't want her on that roof, but his inner agent needed her there.

But the most powerful memory he had to deal with was the loss of Shannon and Kelly. He remembered that after he returned from Desert Storm he visited their graves. He remembered that Ducky was with him. Ducky, his long time friend, who had turned into a lover a few years later. Ducky, who helped him to deal with Shannon and Kelly. Ducky, who had objected after Gibbs told him not to speak of them again, so he didn't have to remember the pain. Ducky, who had been the best man on every other marriage Gibbs had tried to escape in. Ducky, who had introduced him to wife #3. Ducky, who apologized later when Diane decided to stalk Gibbs on every anniversary. Ducky, who had warned Tobias not to marry Gibbs' 2nd wife. Ducky, who had been patient. Ducky, who had been waiting, helping, caring. Ducky, who had stitched Gibbs up every time an ex wife hit him with something.

He knew, that Ducky was intertwined with Shannon and Kelly. Ducky had seen them after the murder. Ducky had performed the autopsy. Ducky, was his last and only link he had with Shannon and Kelly.

He knew Ducky was gay. Ducky had told him. Ducky had also said that he loved him. Which hit Gibbs hard and off balance many times. But it hadn't changed a thing in their friendship. The eccentric M.E. had been patient. He saw things in Gibbs that he, himself didn't see. Ducky knew how to get the best out of him, even though he was stubborn, even though he felt lonely and a loser. Ducky knew how to help him to help himself. Ducky knew, when Gibbs had been ready to love him. Ducky, had taken the first step and had kissed him underneath a sky filled with stars.
And still, after all those years, Gibbs still loved him. And he missed him, he wanted Ducky to be with him, in Mexico, enjoying the beach, the fish and the weather. Ducky would love the weather in Mexico.

His memory still showed holes. But he felt more complete than he ever was. He was forced to remember everything. He was forced to see what kind of bastard he had been after the death of Shannon and Kelly. He was forced to cry, and he did, when Mike wasn't there to see it.

He spent many hours in the Cantina up the shore, he wanted social attention, as Mike wasn't giving any. He listened to the old jukebox, and remembered the songs playing in it. His favourite singer was Robert Palmer. "Addicted to Love" and "Bad case of loving you" kept echoing in his head. He sometimes attempted to call ‘home'. To get an update. To know how his team was doing. To know if Abby helped Ducky with his mother. To know how Mrs. Mallard was and to know if Ducky missed him as much as he missed Ducky. But he didn't.
Instead, he enjoyed the steak and French fries. He drank beer, or sometimes, if his money allowed him he enjoyed Jack Daniels. He didn't really talk to the people in the Cantina. But they knew he was a friend of Mike's and that he was an NCIS agent that had survived a bomb.

It must have been a Saturday when he was in the Cantina. Mike had decided to stay at the cabin and fish. Gibbs had a craving for steak once again, and he thought that the Cantina had a steak that was to kill for. The Golden Earring was echoing with ‘Radar Love' from the jukebox, which seemed to be stuck in 1974. He tried to remember what he was doing in 1974, and only came up with some images of him and Shannon in a restaurant, having dinner, or at a bar, dancing. Gibbs snorted a little, and knew he had to embrace the memory. He must have been in the Marines in 1974, but he couldn't remember.

The steak tasted brilliantly today. And so did the beer. The people were kind today, there were a lot of new people in the Cantina, who were just all staring at him. Camilla looked scared. Gibbs didn't know why, but he didn't really care. He only cared about the steak right now.
"Can I use the phone, please?" Gibbs asked the new bartender.
"Señor?" the man asked puzzled.
"Eh… uhm teléfono … yeah eh…por favor?" Gibbs had to dig deep, for that little bit of Spanish. It was rusty, but so was his Russian.
"El teléfono? Está roto."
"It's what?"
"Roto, señor, broken."
Gibbs sighed and turned to Camille. "Can I use your cell phone?" he almost snapped. He wanted to call Ducky. He just wanted to hear his voice. He wanted to… he nearly fell off his bar stool when he reached for Camille's phone.
"Careful, señor Gibbs." Camille said softly. "Maybe you drank too much."
"No, I didn't." Gibbs replied annoyed and dialled the number of NCIS Autopsy.
"Autopsy." Ducky's voice sounded.
"Duck?"
"Jethro?" Ducky replied surprised.
Hearing Ducky's voice made Gibbs' heart miss a few beats. "That's me." He turned to his steak, still having the phone against his ear and took a bite. "Miss you, Duck."
"How are you doing, Jethro?"
"Eating a steak. Enjoying the sun, a beer, you know…"
"Jethro, are you drunk?"
"Hell no… dizzy." Gibbs could barely hear himself, but he know he sounded drunk anyway. "Need you."
"What did you say?"
"Need you, Duck." Gibbs felt tears burn behind his eyes. "I want you. I want to come back."
"Then come back, dearest."
"Tom..orrow."
"Jethro? Are you alright?" Ducky sounded worried.
"Yes."
"Are you certain, dear?"
"Yes." Gibbs giggled and took another swig of his beer. "Pack my stuff tonight."
"You giggled." Ducky stated.
"Yes."
"Is Mike with you?"
"No."
"Go home, Gibbs."
"No."
"For God's sake, Jethro!" Ducky sounded angry.
"Are you angry with me Duck?" Gibbs asked puzzled. He *did* sounded slurred. Maybe he had lost count on the beers. "I have to go… I'm not feeling so well." He felt like he had to throw up. He wondered if he could get off the bar stool without falling flat on his face.
"Alright, dear. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Right. Love you."
"I love you too, dear."
Gibbs gave the phone back to Camille and tried to get off the stool. He staggered for a moment, regained his balance and found his way to the toilet. While he was regurgitating his steak, some concerned men came to him, and helped him up when he was done. The world around him was a big blur, but he trusted the men into taking him to the cabin, to Mike. Mike would know what to do. He wasn't Ducky, but at least Mike knew more than Gibbs did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ducky hung up the phone in Autopsy and turned around to face Jimmy and the unfortunate dead Marine laying on the slab. "Is everything alright with Agent Gibbs, Dr. Mallard?" Jimmy asked.
"Yes, Mr. Palmer." Ducky managed to smile. It didn't sit well. Something was wrong but he wasn't sure what. He grabbed a new pair of gloves and turned to the dead body again. "Look, Mr. Palmer, this is an obvious bullet. YOU could have taken it out while I was on the phone." Ducky said aggravated.
"Eh, doctor?" Jimmy replied puzzled.
"Jimmy, there will come a time when I won't be around to help you. Take some initiative."
"Yes doctor…" Jimmy nodded and took an evidence container to put the bullet in.
"And I do love Gibbs." Ducky muttered. "For your information, we've been lovers for a long time."
"Well, to be honest with you, doctor, I know that already." Jimmy beamed. "I see it in the little things you both do."
"Well, if you know that already, take that up to Abigail, right now." Ducky snapped and nearly pushed Jimmy out of autopsy.
Ducky needed to be alone for a while. He was worried. He knew he had nothing to worry about. It was just his Jethro, of whom he hadn't heard from in weeks, calling him while he was drunk. But then again, Jethro was rarely ever drunk.

Ducky shook his head. It must have been the fuss in the past few weeks that had finally caught up with him. He was happy that Anthony had realised that he wasn't Gibbs, and that he had to find a way to lead the team, his team now. Abigail didn't like Anthony in leader-mode, and neither did Ducky, but they had to accept the fact that Jethro Gibbs wasn't returning. Though, Ducky had heard him say over the phone that Jethro needed him, wanted him. That he was coming back. And he needed to share that joyful news with Abigail. The dead Marine wouldn't walk away anymore. He walked to the phone and dialled Abigail's number.
"Yo Duckman!" Abigail's voice sounded.
"Hello, Abigail."
"Oh my, you sound happy!"
"Could you come down to Autopsy please?"
"Jimmy is here."
"Send him to lunch."
"Alright! See you soon!"
When Ducky hung up, he looked at the dead Marine. He had been working in Mexico on a drug heist, and had been killed because he had confiscated a vast amount of drugs, which was at least worth 5 million American dollars, and it was now in the safe hands of NCIS, ready for demolition after the case had been wrapped up. Anthony had been working up a headache over this case. He, and his team, needed to find out who had killed the Marine out of the dozens of Mexican drug lords Mexico counted. It wasn't as if Anthony could arrest all of the drug lords, because then all hell would break lose and all Americans in Mexico would be at risk of retaliation. And that wasn't the smartest idea, either.
"Ducky!" Abigail ran into autopsy, ready to bear hug Ducky, but slowed down when she saw that he was covered in the dead Marine's blood.
Ducky smiled. "Jethro might be coming home tomorrow."
"Really?!" Abigail bounced.
Ducky started to tell her about the phone call, and Abigail's excitement made him forget that he felt that something was going wrong in Mexico. This drug case was consuming their time enough already, and Ducky couldn't worry about his lover as it would make him unfocused. He didn't tell Abigail about his worry either. She needed to be sharp. Sharper than Ducky needed to be. He needed to check out every inch of the dead Marine, and Abigail had to check out every millimetre of evidence that the team brought in.

He took Abigail out to dinner that evening, to celebrate Jethro's possible return. Ducky hadn't received a phone call of Jethro yet to actually confirm that he was returning, but that was Jethro. He'd come as he pleased, and show up at his doorstep without warning. He drove Abigail home, after she had consumed a little more beer than planned, and returned home himself, to relieve the nurse from babysit duties. He spent the night in the study, reading books and drinking brandy, thinking about the dead Marine, and scared himself when he saw the dead Marine turn into Jethro. Something didn't feel right, he just couldn't place it. He took a shower to calm down, and decided to try to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So he wasn't home. Mike wasn't there, where he was. He had metal around his wrists. His shoes were off and they stole his shirt, so all he wore was a tank top now with his shorts. And it was cold. The floor was concrete, cold. It was dark, and he suffered from double vision, that, or he really had 4 feet. For a moment, he could have sworn he had heard DiNozzo talk, and he figured that this was a good prank. But DiNozzo wasn't in Mexico. Nor was Ducky. And DiNozzo wasn't as fluent in Spanish as the guy he heard talking in the far distance.
While his eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, he noticed that he was laying down. He tried to sit up and discovered that little men had crawled into his head once again and had started to redecorate. He was fine with that, as long as they didn't screw around with his memory like the last time he had such a full-sized headache.

"Tenemos que conseguir la información de aquel hombre." A voice spoke. Gibbs quickly translated that in English in his head, as far as it worked anyway. They needed information out of him. He was puzzled. What could he possibly know that would be important to them?
"Hey." Gibbs spoke up. His voice didn't sound as slurred as it had done in the cantina. "It's been fun, now let me go."
"Shut it, gringo." The same voice snarled.
"What's going on?"
"I said shut it!"
Gibbs sighed and decided to be quiet and patient. If this was serious… then he'd be in a lot of trouble. Mexican criminals were a crime. They weren't pussy cats. Not even he, once NCIS top investigator slash interrogator couldn't do much with them. Unless he had the upper hand and he certainly didn't have that at the moment. So he decided to wait.

But the floor was cold and his head spun. He felt the need to throw up again, but he knew that if he'd do that, he would throw up over himself. He could barely move. His eyes were sort of adjusted now to the darkness, and saw a few figures standing in the distance around a little light. He used the little light to look around where he was and what he had around his wrists. It were chains, and they were attached to a wall. Nothing surrounded him, so if he could get free of the chains, he could possibly escape or try to gain the upper hand. But he didn't know if that would be wise or foolish. It was best to be patient and try to figure out why he was in this dark hole anyway. It felt like a cave, but it could easily have been some sort of storage place. He didn't understand why it was so dark, but then again, they might not have been able to pay the electricity bill.

He sometimes picked up random words from the men, who had lowered their voices so he couldn't hear what they said. It had something to do with NCIS, DiNozzo, drugs and him being a hostage and informant. Way to go, DiNozzo, Gibbs thought wryly. You've done it again. Getting a case you can't handle. He just hoped that Mike would get suspicious when he didn't return to the cabin, and he hoped that Mike would come and get him out of trouble. But then again, Mike was severely out of shape. Mike would only get hurt himself, or taken hostage too. Gibbs sighed and a chill ran down his spine. It was cold in there. Maybe they were storing liquids to make drugs of here. If that was the case, Mike couldn't come in with a gun, shooting without seeing what he was shooting at. This also applied to DiNozzo. If DiNozzo got word of this, that is. He wasn't sure if Tony would jump on the plane just to save his old boss. His old boss, who still wasn't really himself yet. I'm in trouble. Gibbs thought. DiNozzo couldn't save his own ass if he needed to. He wasn't scared, but he wasn't at ease either. He wasn't worried, yet.

After a while, when the men were done with their meeting, one approached him. "What do you know of Jesus Chavez?" the man barked. He was a young man, as far as Gibbs could tell.
"Who?"
"Jesus Chavez. Don't play games, gringo."
"Honestly, I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're NCIS, right?"
"Was."
"You're lying!" the man hissed.
"Jesus Chavez? Drugs?" Gibbs said annoyed. "I have no idea."
"You and your team were responsible for stealing our drugs, gringo. Don't act like you don't know." The man lowered himself to Gibbs' eye level. He didn't even bother to put a mask on or what not. "Tell me what you know."
"My team?" Gibbs replied surprised. "I've been here in Mexico for 6 weeks. I don't have a team anymore."
"You're lying!" the man slapped him across his face. Gibbs winced, his left cheek hurt. "Tell me!"
"I can't tell you what I don't know!"

This ‘yes-no' game continued for a long time, and Gibbs had to receive a lot of beatings in his face and on his body underneath it all. He told the man what happened, why he was in Mexico and why he didn't know, but he simply didn't believe him. To him, Gibbs was still the Special Agent. When Gibbs said that their research department was out of date, the man drew a knife but was stopped by another man before he could do anything, of which Gibbs was grateful.

His throat was dry. His voice sounded raspy too, and he didn't want to give in to the pain his body was in. So they meant business. Business he didn't know a thing about. He didn't know anything because he no longer was the leader of his team. Anthony DiNozzo was, and he had screwed up. He should have known better than to take on this case. DiNozzo had obviously made a wrong decision and Gibbs had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Why didn't Mike know about this? Probably because he's even more out of touch with the world than you are, gunny. Gibbs told himself.

When suddenly someone pulled his head back, opened his mouth and poured water down his throat, he felt muscles in his body of which he had never known it's existence and it hurt. He was grateful for the water though. "Now, let's start again, Americano." A different voice than the man before sounded. Gibbs recognized the way they were trying to break him. He often had done the same thing. Good cop, bad cop. Good criminal, bad criminal. Though this ‘good' criminal nearly broke his neck, and really wished he would let go of his hair so he could move his neck again. "Tell me what you know about Jesus Chavez."
"I know nothing." Gibbs sighed. "I'm telling the truth."
"I've heard your lies."
"I'm not lying, damnit." He spat out. "I haven't had any contact with NCIS for weeks, until this afternoon."
"When you called your lover."
"When I called Ducky." Gibbs improved him. No one was supposed to know about that. No one. And if these criminals knew, he was sure in one hell of a mess.
"Your lover."
"Fine. My Ducky."
"Do you want me to hurt your lover?" the man taunted.
"Excuse me?"
"I know where he lives." The man continued. "When you won't tell me what I want to know, I'll be going after your lover."
Gibbs felt an adrenaline rush going through his body, but he needed to stay calm. He wasn't going to show that no one touched his Duck, except for him. "I can't tell you what I don't know. Call NCIS. Ask for Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, I'm sure he'd happily tell you what happened to your precious drugs."

The man got a knife out of pocket and put it against Gibbs' throat, the tip of the knife was stinging in his neck. "Don't get smart with me, Americano." The man hissed. "You're going to tell me what you know, you have spoken to Jesus Chavez before, you're going to tell me anything you know about our leader."
Gibbs managed to chuckle slightly. "Well, I might have spoken to him before… but you're having a slight problem there. I can't remember."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Jesus Chavez." DiNozzo told Ducky. "Do you remember him, Ducky?"
"Yes." Ducky winced as he sat down behind Jethro's desk. His hip was acting up again, which was his own fault. He had been pacing around the house all night long, just feeling that something was wrong. "Jethro had a run in with him a few years back, after a drug bust in Norfolk. Jesus Chavez was there in person, where he normally sends his lackeys. Why do you ask, Anthony?"
"I think the drugs belonged to Jesus Chavez. We received Officer Hernandez' notes on the drug heist he was working on and had suspicions that he was going to export to America again."
"Oh dear."
"Oh dear?" McGee echoed.
"It is well-known, Timothy, that Jesus Chavez is a sadist. His crew, are sadists. If you're right about the drugs belonging to Chavez, then Gibbs might be in trouble."
"I'm going to call Franks, and ask if Gibbs is still with him. I'm sure nothing happened to him, Ducky." Ziva assured Ducky. Ziva walked to her desk and called Camilla, Mike Franks' helper, who confirmed that Gibbs hadn't been seen in days after men took him away. Ziva instructed her to go and see Franks, and she did. When Ziva hung up again, her face had a grim look. "He hasn't been seen in days, I'm sorry."
"Gibbs would never let something happen to him." Anthony said. "Unless he was incapacitated."
"He did sound drunk when he called me a few days ago." Ducky chipped in. "Jethro doesn't drink that much that he's drunk."
"What are you thinking, Ducky?"
"Someone drugged him."
"And kidnapped him?"
"Possibly." Ducky sighed. Now he was really getting worried. His feelings had been right. If Jethro had been kidnapped by Chavez' men because of the drugs, he was in trouble. Ducky feared for his lover's life.
"But if that was the case, then we would have been contacted by now, to return the drugs in exchange of Gibbs." McGee replied. "Right?"
"Possibly." Ziva responded. "But they might not work that way."
"Abby?" Anthony touched the young Gothic forensic analyst on the shoulder. "Found anything?"
"Gibbs can't be in trouble, Tony." She said softly. "He has already been gone through a lot lately."
"Abby, focus."
"Ducky found common dirt underneath Hernandez' fingernails. The bullet… I'm still running it through IBIS and I really hope that it doesn't give a hit on that drug bust Gibbs had been working on years ago…"
"Go to your lab. Sleep if you have to beside your computer. I want to know." Anthony urged her. "Anything you need?"
"Caffeine." Abigail pouted.
"I'll get it for you." He turned her towards the elevator. "Go." He turned back to the rest of the team. "Anything else I need to know?"
"Abs found a small dose of GHB in Hernandez' blood." McGee replied.
"Officer Hernandez was quite beaten up." Ducky chipped in.
"Anything that can help us?"
Ducky stared coldly at Anthony. "Can I go to Mexico?"
"No, Ducky." Anthony chuckled. "You're staying here. You can't do much in Mexico anyway."
"I want to. If you're going, I'm coming along."
"Ducky, you can't do anything there. It's not like you can handle a gun."
"Who says I can't, Anthony?" Ducky replied coldly.
"I never heard Gibbs mention that you…"
"I am a pacifist, Anthony, but that doesn't mean that I don't know how to handle a gun. I have an excellent shot, and if it makes you feel any better, Jethro taught me."
"No offence, Ducky, but you're not quick on your feet anymore."
"I am going, Anthony. Whether you like it or not. If you're not allowing me, I'll take up some vacation days and I'll be going to Mexico." Ducky said determined.
"Ducky…" Ziva tried.
"Ziva, if it is true that Jesus Chavez' men have my Jethro, he might be dead or dying when you'll find him. I want him in my arms if he dies. He's not going to die alone."
"We're not saying that he's dead."
"He could possibly be!" Ducky sneered. "You don't understand, Anthony."
"I am going to read the files, Ducky. But you're staying put."
"Then as from today, I'm going on a holiday." Ducky rose from Jethro's chair and walked towards Anthony.
"Don't make me lock you up, Ducky." Anthony sighed.
"I've never asked for anything, Tony. Let me go." Ducky straightened his back and faced Anthony. "Please."
Anthony sighed. "Fine, If we're going to Mexico, then you're coming along. Happy now?" he said annoyed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His eyes had started to hurt. In the past few days, he had deserved a severe amount of beatings and he had tasted blood from his ruptured lip. He couldn't really move that well because of the chains and the short length towards the wall, every time he tried to get to his feet, he got dizzy and fell down. ~Concussion. He stated.

He hadn't had any food for days, but they occasionally downed a glass of water down his throat or over his head or what not. They decided it had been fun to throw salt over his wounds, to make them sting even worse, and then hose him down with a few buckets of water. He was tired. He hated himself for not remembering Jesus Chavez. Nothing connected in his head. Not the words Jesus Chavez, drugs and Mexico.

All he wanted now was to go home. Safe in Ducky's arms. Safe, away from Mexico. He should never had gone to Mexico. But he did, he left Ducky, he left his house, his boat, just because he was one big bastard with memory issues. He wanted to sort himself out, which he had managed for nearly 85%, and he wanted to find the rest of his brains at home. He had told Ducky that he'd come home.

The steel of the chains had started to shave his skin, and it had started to irritate him. He barely moved, because every muscle, every inch of his body had started to hurt. They had only threatened to use the knife on him, but other than slightly puncturing his skin, they hadn't done anything with the knife, luckily. Nothing felt broken, beside a couple of ribs. He was still in a pretty good shape, but weak. They had finally started to believe that he really didn't know anything, and had left him alone for most of the day. Now, he just knew he was a boxing ball for them. Worthless, but also too valuable because he might knew too much now.

He'd give anything to see Ducky. He'd give anything to have Ducky in his arms again, to feel his touch, his breath in his neck, the taste of his kisses, the scent of formaldehyde. He'd give anything to hear Ducky going on a tangent with his stories. He'd give anything to see that smile again. He'd crawl back to the States if he had to, if only he could be with his Ducky again.

"Tell me what you know."
"I know nothing."
"Liar."
"How many times did we have this conversation now anyway?" Gibbs wondered out loud.
"Shut up!"
"Look, I know nothing." Gibbs gasped for air when he received a boot to his kidney's and lungs. "Honestly!" the pain echoed through his body, and it made him nearly pass out. Nearly, he was close enough. He took a deep breath, and that stung. "Call NCIS if you have to."
"We're not calling anyone! They know of your fate. We sent word."
"Oh goodie."
The knife was pulled again, this time he kept it near his chest, underneath his ripped tank top. And this time, he made a cut. Not deep, but it was a cut and it hurt. "Don't talk back." The man hissed. "Or you'll die." Gibbs winced. He wanted to have this end so badly…

He heard shots fired. Outside the building. This didn't sound good. The Mexicans were cheering. Had they really killed off his entire team? "Su amigo está muerto, gringo." A voice sounded. "Man with moustache."
"That's what happens when someone tries to free you."
"Mike? You killed Mike?!"
"If that is his name, then I have killed Mike."

Gibbs grew angry. He was pissed. They didn't have the right to… Mike should have been wise enough than this. Mike should have had back up. And he didn't, obviously. It got him killed. His mentor, dead. The only one besides Ducky and Ziva, who knew about Shannon and Kelly. His mentor, who had taught him everything he knew. His mentor, who resigned NCIS when morality was in question. His mentor… Mike Franks… dead…
"La mierda pasa, señor." A man grinned.
Shit happens? Gibbs thought. You son of a bitch! You didn't have the right!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Abigail had been shocked, the bullet was the same used in Norfolk, many years ago. On top of that, Anthony had been reading the case file about Jesus Chavez, about the involvement of Gibbs. Also, they had received pictures of an unconscious Jethro, bruised and battered. Ducky's nightmare had become real, Jethro had been kidnapped by the most sadistic drug lord around in Mexico.
"Ducky!" Anthony yelled.
"What?"
"Let's go."

They arrived in Mexico within hours, and met Camilla. Camilla, who was in shock, as she had found Mike Franks' body in his cabin. Camilla, who knew something but didn't dare to say. Camilla, who was torn. Camilla, who dared to tell Ducky where Jethro was taken to, after Ducky had comforted her. Ducky knew, that DiNozzo, Ziva and McGee didn't have the patience to calm someone down, as upset as Camilla. Camilla warned them, that there were at least 2 exits of the building, and at least 5 men inside. She warned them, because the men were dangerous.
"Ducky, you're staying behind."
"I didn't plan on going in first, Anthony. That's your job." Ducky deadpanned.

Ziva and McGee had covered the other exit of the storage facility. Ducky felt the adrenaline kick in, but all he wanted was his Jethro safe and sound. He wanted his Jethro to be okay, he wanted to hold his Jethro and tell him that everything was going to be alright. Ducky had to admit, he was a little scared. Although he had all the faith in the world in Anthony, he knew that Anthony could be impatient, as he was still so young. He had more faith in Ziva, as she knew what she was doing. She had been boasting about kidnaps all the way to Mexico, how she organized them, how she saved hostages. The young Mossad agent knew a lot, which was frightening. McGee wouldn't hesitate this time. He was determined to save his boss, in the hope that he'd come back to NCIS. Ducky wasn't too sure about Jethro returning to NCIS just like that. Things had to change first, and if they wouldn't change, he'd stay retired and become a hermit in his own house.

Things went fast once Anthony kicked the door in. Ducky had a hard time adjusting to the darkness, but he was grateful that Anthony pushed him into safety once bullets started to rain, despite wearing a bullet-proof vest. "Duck, cover me when I go forward, okay? And keep your head down!" Anthony hissed.
Ducky got to his knees, and he could barely look over the pile of spare tyres where they were hiding behind. He aimed Jethro's Sig at nothing important and started to shoot when Anthony ran forward.

Ducky was relieved when he heard Ziva yell "Clear!" and Anthony doing that at the same time. Now it was only a matter of finding Jethro. Ducky got out his hiding place and received a pat on the shoulder by Anthony. "Wow, you do know how to handle a gun!" he said surprised.
Ducky smiled lightly, his body ached from all the sudden movements and action. "I told you, Anthony."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Was that Ducky's voice? Was it? Gibbs was confused. His head was throbbing, and he couldn't really think straight, but he knew he wasn't hallucinating. Once the bullets started to fly, he had dropped himself to the cold concrete floor to protect himself. "Duck?" he asked, his voice soft, raspy and exhausted. He closed his eyes when someone shone his torch in his face.
"Jethro!" Ducky's voice sounded, followed by sounds of running.
"What are you doing here?" Gibbs coughed and slowly got up.
"Jethro!" Ducky sounded happy. He got down on his knees and took Gibbs in his arms.
"Careful." Gibbs groaned.
"What have they done to you?!"
"I forgot."
"I've found keys." DiNozzo's voice sounded.
"Good." Ziva's voice sounded.
"Give me the keys, Anthony."
"Right."
"Glad to see you have brains, DiNozzo." Gibbs managed to say.
"Thanks boss."
"Save your strength, Jethro." Ducky soothed him while he unlocked Gibbs' chains.
"They killed Mike, Duck."
"I know, dearest." Ducky sighed. "But I am glad to have you back in one piece." He ruffled Gibbs' dirty hair.
Even though Ducky's touch hurt right now, he was glad to see his lover again. He was surprised that DiNozzo allowed Ducky to come with. He'd never agreed to putting his doctor in the field. "Duck?"
"Yes, dearest?"
"Give my gun to Tony."

Another hospital. Nurses who know better than you. Doctors keeping checking up on you to see how your bruises develop. Gibbs was sick of hospitals. He wanted to go home, his house. Retreat there for a whole week with his Ducky. And his boat. He wanted to attend Mike's funeral in Mexico, but wasn't allowed. Another funeral he had to miss.
DiNozzo had told him all about Chavez. And he had to admit that they hadn't found him yet. But other teams were looking for him. MTAC kept an eye on the drug traffic in Mexico. They were doing the best they could.

Ducky never left his side in the hospital. Even though Gibbs could go home after a couple of days, Ducky stayed. Ducky told him about the weeks he had missed, Ducky informed him about DiNozzo's actions in his absence, and told him everything. Even the little details Gibbs really didn't want to know about.
Abby came by too, happy to see Gibbs, hugging him so tight he had to gasp for air. Abby bounced her way around him, wearing him out. If it wasn't for Ducky, Gibbs would have asked the nurse for some valium for his surrogate daughter.

When Gibbs was finally released from the hospital, Ducky took him home. The first thing Gibbs did, even though he was still unsteady on his feet thanks to slight malnourishment, was to kiss his lover in the hallway. "Missed you, Duck."
"I missed you too, Jethro dear." Ducky smiled. "Now, go to the sofa. I'm going to make you some food."
"I'm not hungry."
"You have to eat, dearest."
"I want you."
Ducky stared at him for a long time. Gibbs' determined eyes were almost burning a hole into Ducky's. "Not until you're feeling a bit better." Ducky said after a while.
"I am feeling better."
"You're hurt."
"You're a doctor. You know what hurts me."
"Jethro…"
"Duck!" Gibbs nagged.
"Leroy Jethro Gibbs, on that sofa. NOW."
Gibbs pouted and moved to the couch. He sat down after taking a blanket with him. "Fine." He muttered.
"Don't be so childish." Ducky warned from the kitchen.
"I'm not!"
"Lay down."
"Woof." Gibbs barked.

A week later, Ducky was still with him. Ducky had taken days off to take care of his Jethro. Jen had visited him, and she disgusted him. His memory had pieced together everything about the pixie, and also how she betrayed him in Paris. He hated her. He knew he couldn't really hate her but he did. And Ducky knew. "So, are you going back to NCIS, dear?" Ducky asked him, while they were still laying in bed.
"I don't know, Duck."
"They need you. Anthony is acting like he lost his compass."
"You told me that."
"Abigail isn't her perky self."
"You told me that, too."
"I miss you walking in to Autopsy."
"That too."
"What's stopping you, dear?"
"Unless the moral compass changes, I'm not coming back. They're a bunch of liars. Not only NCIS, but all the other agencies." Gibbs almost snapped.
"Then I'm retiring too." Ducky said determined. "Jimmy can do without me."
"Don't do that." Gibbs nagged.
"Well, I'm only staying at NCIS because of you. I can go into early retirement, just like you."
"Duck…"
"Come back, Jethro… Anthony isn't ready." Ducky nuzzled his neck tenderly. "I love you." He said softly while he gently caressed his lover's chest.
"Duck." Gibbs said with a hoarse throat. "Blackmailing me with sex doesn't help."
"I'm not blackmailing." Ducky said innocently. "You're not really hurting anymore."
"I…" Gibbs swallowed when Ducky went down. "God, Duck!" he exclaimed.

Another week later, Ducky had gone back to work, leaving Gibbs to his own. Gibbs bought coffee at Starbucks, coffee he had dearly missed, and walked into his former office.
"Boss!" DiNozzo said surprised.
"DiNozzo." Gibbs smiled.
"Are you back?" he went on his knees and folded his hands. "Please, tell me you're back." He begged.
"You have my badge and gun, Tony." Gibbs snorted.
Jen walked into his office, carrying his badge, gun and cell phone. "Agent Gibbs, welcome back." She smiled. "I knew you couldn't live the quiet life for too long."
"Thank you, Director." Gibbs took his belongings and went to autopsy. "Ducky!"
"Jethro! What a surprise!" Ducky exclaimed.
"Be surprised." Gibbs kissed him on the top of his head. "I'm back."
"Really?"
"Yes." Gibbs smiled. "Thank you Duck."
"For what, dear?"
"For saving my ass over and over… I'm proud of you, that you went to Mexico with Tony. I'm proud of you, that you dared to shoot my Sig… I'm proud to say, that I'm proud to have you as my lover." Gibbs took a deep breath. "This isn't a romantic setting, is it?"
"Who hit you this time?" Ducky asked worried.
"Duck, will you marry me?"