Hey, Boss,

I guess if you're reading this it means I've gone to the great Federal Agency in the sky … I hope I went in a way that made you proud. It's not likely is it, on the balance of probabilities (to quote Ducky) that you're reading this because I've just gone to my maker after twenty years of honourable retirement? Because let's face it, you are older than me. Not old, of course but older. So in the normal course of things you'll go before me if we end up dying of natural causes. But I definitely don't think you're old. Scout's honour – you know what I mean, even if I wasn't actually a Scout. Does being a cub count? Where was I?

Special Agent Jethro Gibbs cracked a rare smile as he read the first paragraph of the letter. He took a restorative sip of the coffee provided by McGee and wondered how many more he would need to try and make sense of Tony's message. He had arrived to work that morning and found an envelope addressed to him lying on his desk along with a note from HR.

Agent Gibbs,

I was conducting a post termination review of Special Agent DiNozzo's personnel file to make sure that all was in order. I found this envelope addressed to you. Special Agent DiNozzo left no instructions about its delivery so I have decided that the simplest course of action is to pass it on to you.

No doubt you will know what to do with it.

Delores Bromstead

The message seemed bland and straightforward but somehow Gibbs sensed Delores' disapproval. He wasn't sure whether she disapproved of Tony having left or the manner of his departure. Nobody could accuse Gibbs of cowardice but he knew which battles to fight and, for the moment at least, he was avoiding Delores as he didn't really want to know why she was even more irritable than usual. Gibbs was also making sure that McGee kept on top of all the HR forms; there was no point in drawing Delores' ire unnecessarily.

Gibbs had opened the envelope and begun reading the contents almost absentmindedly until he realised that it was a letter from Tony. Some people doubted that there was a heart beating within Gibbs' chest but they were wrong and it had experienced a warm glow as its owner realised that his former senior field agent had left something for him. He resumed reading.

So, Boss. Where was I? If this was one of my reports you'd give me a head slap for rambling like this. But it's not a report – and I did get better, didn't I? How many times did you tell Kate I had to write my first report? Have to say the first few months on your team were like the first days at Military Academy – except you were tougher and your version of PT was worse.

This may seem a bit melodramatic. And it's probably a scene from a movie – but it feels the right thing to leave a message from whatever lies beyond the Navy Yard. If I am dead, don't let Abby summon me with her Ouija board – it's too Hallowe'eny for me.

Anyway, I know we communicate well with nods and shrugs (and didn't that irritate the hell out of Kate?) but perhaps some things need to be said. I meant what I said at the beginning: if you're reading this because I'm dead I hope I went in a way that made you proud. Making you proud has always been important to me. Perhaps it's because you rescued me from Baltimore. I know that sounds dramatic (and I know that's not like me – who am I kidding? – but it's true. If you hadn't made me the offer to come to NCIS I don't know what would have happened. Probably ended up as a mall cop somewhere … but that didn't happen because you saw something in me that you wanted. I needed someone to feel good about me then and you stood up. And you've always stood up, Boss and that means a lot to me. Not many people have done that for me. Like I said, I want to make you proud.

And these last couple of days when you met Senior for the first time.

Gibbs looked up from the sheets of paper in surprise. He hadn't realised the letter was so old.

Agent McGee caught Gibbs' reaction,

"What you reading, Boss?"

"Letter," said Gibbs briefly.

"Oh?"

"From DiNozzo."

"From Tony?"

"Do I need to send you to Ducky for a hearing test, McGee?"

"Uh, no, Boss. Of course not. I heard you perfectly. You speak very clearly. Good diction. Always said that. Well, not always, of course. Not that you don't always have good diction, I didn't mean that. I meant that I don't always say 'good diction' – that would be real boring conversation. I say other things sometimes. But no, I don't need a hearing test. Thanks for offering though."

Gibbs took another mouthful of coffee, favoured McGee with a hard stare and carried on reading.

Well, it was interesting, wasn't it? I won't deny I felt a tad exposed. All these years I've tried to keep quiet about Senior – I guess there has to be something I kept quiet about, eh? But all that got blown to hell when Dad turned up with his charm switched to max. We had a good goodbye though – and I suspect that might be down to you somehow. And I could tell you (but I won't) of times when the goodbyes weren't so good. Hell, some times there weren't any goodbyes. I'd turn around and he'd be gone. Now you know what he's like and I feel like I've run through the squad room naked. Although not everybody would be disappointed if I did that: I have my admirers, you know. But that definitely wouldn't be conduct becoming a NCIS agent! Bad DiNozzo!

Anyways, that talk by your fire over cowboy steaks and beer really helped. Reminded me how well you know me and how you're always there for the important things. And seeing Senior probably made you realise why I've always needed some sort of father figure in my life, someone to give me a lead. Not that I think you're old enough to be my father – but I won't go into that again! Just re-read the first paragraph for confirmation that I really, really don't think you're old! Exactly how old are you, Boss? Forget I asked. If I'm dead, it's irrelevant anyway. Do you think that's the sort of thing you find out in whatever afterlife we go to? Or do you think we don't care by then?

Whatever! Our talk last night, even if we did agree that sometimes it was best not to talk about things, made me think that perhaps I should make sure that I did leave something so you know how important you are to me. I know that's sappy – and I don't really do sappy – but I'll feel better for telling you. Gibbs, you taught me how to do the job, you made me grow by challenging me and I hope you are proud of what I've become. I admit it's hard to know because you're a gruff bastard at times but I think the head slaps are a sign of affection. And I like to think that rule 5 was invented for me.

So, to get to the point of this letter! Thank you, Boss – for more than I can put into words. And let's face it, you hardly ever put anything into words so you won't be disappointed if I fail at that. But I hope that's the only thing you're disappointed about in me – I really do try and live up to your expectations and I think it's made me a better person.

Thanks, Boss. Semper Fi!

Tony

Gibbs laid the sheets of paper down as he finished the letter. He found himself rubbing an affectionate finger over Tony's signature and realised how much he missed Tony's presence.

"Good letter?" asked Tim.

"It was DiNozzo," said Gibbs obliquely.

Oddly this non-reply seemed to satisfy McGee. The word DiNozzo covered most scenarios.

"Huh," said McGee, "that's odd."

Gibbs was in a mellow mood after reading Tony's letter so he responded to McGee's exclamation rather than waiting in something like patience. "What is?" he said.

"Mail's just come. There's a letter for you. From Tony," replied McGee getting up and bringing it to Gibbs. He stood in front of Gibbs' desk and examined the stamp and post mark.

"You gonna give it to me?" asked Gibbs after a few seconds.

"Yes, Boss. Sorry, Boss. I wasn't being nosy. I wasn't trying to read it or anything. Sorry. I mean, not sorry. Here it is," and Tim handed the envelope over.

Gibbs grunted in a not unfriendly way. He still had what Abby would call 'the warm fuzzies' from reading the letter and was prepared to cut Tim some slack. He drew his knife out and slit the letter open. He stared at McGee who scuttled back to his own desk where he sat looking expectant like a dog watching his owner open the can of dog food.

Gibbs began to read.

Gibbs

I wasn't going to write to you. After all, we don't really do things like that, do we? And we said our goodbyes in your basement so I thought it was all done but Abby told me that Tim is Senior Field Agent now. I was about to say 'second in command' but, unless things have changed or unless you have changed, it's not very likely he's actually your second. Still, I'd have it on my conscience if I didn't say some things to you.

There was a time when you and I were really tight; you know, in sync. Ying and yang. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. OK, I may exaggerate a little but you know what I mean. Or I hope you do. We worked well together, thought the same way and had each other's back. And I became a good agent. You were good for me and I hope I was good for you.

Correction. I thought I was good for you but the last year or so had me doubting that. I don't what happened but you seemed to withdraw. And nothing I did was good enough for you and you made that clear. Perhaps it was all a fantasy thinking we were good together. You know, I think I even went as far as to write you a letter saying how grateful I was. Put it in my HR folder in case I died in the line of duty. Hopefully Delores will throw it away when she finds it, could be embarrassing otherwise.

Perhaps I was just projecting what I needed on to you – and I guess that wasn't fair of me. You know me, movie mad – maybe I just created a movie scenario of gruff old bastard taking on a green youngster and making him into a man. In which case – if you didn't have a rule about it – I'd apologise.

But I don't think I was fantasizing. I think we had a connection and then, for whatever reason, you decided I wasn't good enough or you had some other weird scheme going on. Perhaps it was like Domino all over again. And it doesn't matter now because I'm gone and I'm going to move on. But you should know, Gibbs, that it was painful. I'm a confident sort of guy but your … disdain … hurt and it undermined me in lots of ways. It's only now, a few weeks on and at a distance, that I can get some perspective and I know – I really know – that I was good at my job and I didn't deserve the rubbish you threw at me.

Did it make a difference, your attitude? I don't know. Would I have stayed, would I have tried to make a go of being an agent and a single father if I'd thought I had a Boss who cared? Maybe I was looking for an excuse to get out from under you. Like I said, I don't know. I have some rules too and they include 'don't look back' and 'don't have regrets' so it doesn't matter now. But what I can say for sure is that for a while I lost my confidence – and that's down to you.

So, if it doesn't matter why I am I writing to you? Because of my rules. And one of those rules is always look out for your team. And Tim is – was – part of my team. Gibbs, don't do to him what you did to me. Tim is as loyal as can be but he's not me. If I struggled with your attitude, Tim will too and you may destroy him. Don't do it, Gibbs. Whatever demons you have, don't take them out on your team – make it a new rule.

DiNozzo

The single sheet of paper fell from Gibbs' hand and his heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. He looked at the first letter with its cheerful handwritten scrawl and the latest letter neatly typed and realised what a gulf had opened between their being written. Gibbs had been feeling a sense of loss since Tony left but now it felt even greater as he recognised the extent of what he had lost. It seemed he had lost not just Tony's presence but his respect and affection.

"Tony OK, Boss?" asked McGee.

"What?"

"Tony. In the letter. Nothing wrong, is there?"

"No," said Gibbs, "No, he's fine."

"Good," said McGee, "'cos you looked kinda shocked there."

"No," said Gibbs summoning a smile, "He's good. Just reminding me of old times. Good times."

"You sure?" said Tim.

For a moment Gibbs was tempted to ignore Tim's concern but Tony's parting words echoed in his mind. It might be too late for him and Tony but he could respect his former agent by adopting the new rule he had suggested.

"I'm sure," said Gibbs, "We're good. It's all good." He took another sip of his coffee. "Good coffee, Tim. Thanks, appreciate it."

Tim looked startled at the warm words and wondered what Tony could have written to have seemingly put Gibbs in such an amenable mood. Gibbs noticed and realised there might be some amusement to be had in disconcerting Tim by not being a bastard!

AN: they're not mine and they're back in their boxes.