TO THOSE WHO WAIT

By

Ashleigh Anpilova

Leroy Jethro Gibbs, a recently divorced, highly successful, hard-working lawyer, advertises for a tutor for his eight year-old daughter Kelly. The successful applicant is Dr. Donald 'Ducky' Mallard. The two men quickly become close friends. However, what Jethro could not possibly have realized was that Ducky will turn his life upside down and change it in ways he could not possibly have imagined.

A first time story.

Shannon Gibbs/Jenny Shepard also appear as a pairing in this story.

Written: November 2008. Word count: 125,609.

CHAPTER ONE: JANUARY 1992

Jethro Gibbs ran his hand over his head and sighed as he looked at the large pile of résumés that littered his desk. What a great way to start the New Year! It wouldn't be quite so bad if this was the original pile of applications. However, he had already sifted through them and got rid of the time wasters, the people who clearly hadn't read the advert, those who tripped his gut, and various others. Also, he'd already spent an unsuccessful and frustrating week interviewing people; these were the next lot.

It was partly, make that wholly, his own fault. The advert he'd placed had, with hindsight, been guaranteed to appeal to a large number of people, due to the, what was for the position, extremely generous salary; in addition the position offered several other sought-after benefits. But he had to find the right person and if it took him another month, he'd find them. He had to. It wasn't as though he could take on the task of home schooling his darling daughter permanently - not with his job keeping him so busy. As it was he was having to do what he never did: work late into the evening every night, just to keep on top of everything.

Today he'd had another four candidates to interview; he had hoped that maybe one of those would be 'right' person, but the first three had all been unsuitable. He picked up the details of the final person, who was due in twenty minutes, and re-read the résumé. On paper the man fulfilled and exceeded all of Jethro's 'wants'. He not only had the required Master's degree, but also a Doctorate, as well as being a Doctor of Medicine. That surprised Jethro somewhat. He wondered why the man had completed his training and then had decided not to go into medicine. Oh, well, it was something he could ask him. His background was first class: even Americans had heard of Eton; he was single; his references impeccable. Okay, he was a bit older than Jethro's ideal being fifty, but Jethro had learned along ago that chronological age meant nothing.

Yes, on paper, Dr. Donald Mallard seemed ideal, and his infamous gut was giving him good vibes. He glanced at his watch; he had time for a mug of coffee before the interview started - he just hoped it wasn't over as quickly as his last eleven had been. Maybe he'd been wrong, after the first fifteen interviews, to decide to start the interview with the question he did, but it certainly got through the list!

"Come in, Dr. Mallard. Thank you, Grace." He smiled at his personal assistant who had kindly offered to come to his home on the days he was interviewing and help him. She nodded and smiled back, before going out and closing the door behind her.

He held out his hand and the other man took it. "Good morning, I'm Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Please sit down." The handshake was firm, the hand cool and uncalloused. Dr. Mallard was some six inches shorter than Jethro himself and had he not known his age, he would have guessed it at some six or seven years fewer. Jethro tended to go on first impression and as a lawyer he had learned over the years the art of reading people easily and quickly. And he was rarely proven wrong. He was still getting good and strong vibes from the other man and for a moment he dared to think that maybe -

"Thank you, Mr. Gibbs. It is a pleasure to meet you." Dr. Mallard sat down. His voice confirmed his schooling; it was very British and very cultured. It was also a pleasure to listen to, and that Jethro knew was another important thing.

"Thank you for coming, especially so far. I must confess I was somewhat surprised to get an application from the United Kingdom." And he had been, very. For a moment he nearly broke his rule and rather than ask 'the' question, delve further into what had brought the other man here.

"I was planning a holiday to the States anyway, so this came up at the right moment." Another thing in Dr. Mallard's favor was that he didn't look on edge or worried. He sat back in the chair, upright, but not rigid.

"Good. Dr. Mallard, there is a simple question I need to ask you straight away," Jethro paused for a second and swallowed. "What is your view of homosexuality?"

He watched as the steady blue gaze, only partly hidden by clear spectacle lenses, appraised him. Unlike the other candidates to whom Jethro had asked the question, Dr. Mallard did not rush to answer it. Instead he continued to study Jethro, his head slightly on one side, his gaze unblinking.

Finally, just as Jethro was beginning to wonder if he was going to get an answer, Dr. Mallard spoke. "I am going to assume that firstly you have a good reason for asking the question and secondly that you want an honest answer." He paused for a moment, then with a half shrug, leaned back further into the chair and spoke again. "My opinion of homosexuality, Mr. Gibbs, is exactly the same as my opinion of heterosexuality. Assuming that firstly both, or I suppose these days one should be a little more open and accept that in some cases it may be more than two parties involved, however, for ease of answering your question, let us assume we are only talking about a couple. As I was saying, assuming that firstly both parties are in agreement, i.e. they both want the relationship and secondly that both are over the age of consent in the country in which they live, although I understand that in your own country that varies from state to state, but I digress again, do please forgive me. Thus if both of these conditions are met, then to me whether a relationship is between two men, a man and a woman or two women makes no difference whatsoever. Now, I thank you for your time, Mr. Gibbs, and I wish you well in your search for a tutor." And with that Dr. Mallard stood up and turned towards the door.

Momentarily stunned by the answer as well as the movement, it took Jethro a second or two before he called, "Dr. Mallard." He rose.

The other man stopped. "Yes?"

"Where are you going? Do you make a habit of walking out of interviews before they're finished?"

Dr. Mallard looked at him, a slight frown creasing the skin between his eyes. "I . . . Oh, please forgive me, Mr. Gibbs. I assumed that . . ."

"Yes?"

"I assumed that my answer was not the one you wished to hear."

Jethro studied him for a moment. He wasn't lying. "Come and sit back down," he said. After a moment or two Dr. Mallard obeyed. "Now," he said, once the other man was seated, "just to clarify what you said: homosexuality, as long as your two conditions are met, doesn't bother you. That is what you said, isn't it?"

A very faint smile touched Dr. Mallard's lips and a hint of a flush touched his cheeks. "Yes, Mr. Gibbs, it is indeed what I said, albeit you said it much more concisely than I did."

Jethro looked at him. "Going by the fact you were about to walk out, I also assume that you did indeed speak the truth?"

Dr. Mallard nodded. "Yes, I did."

"Good. Right the job's yours if you want it." He had to call on all his years as a lawyer to stop himself from smiling at the look of incredulity that crossed the other man's face. He watched and waited, and as he did he suddenly got the distinct impression that the now silent doctor was not the usual doctor.

Finally Dr. Mallard spoke. "You are offering me the position as tutor to your daughter based purely on my answer to one question?"

"Yep."

"But . . . Mr. Gibbs, surely you want to ask me far more questions than that? You have asked nothing about my background, my education, my -"

"Got all that from your résumé," Jethro said, cutting in quickly. "Look, Dr. Mallard, or may I call you 'Donald'? Dr. Mallard is awfully formal, which I know you Brits are, but," he smiled.

"Please do. Although to be honest with the exception of my mother everyone calls me 'Ducky'."

"Ducky?"

"Mmm. It was a name I was, shall we say 'gifted' with at Eton. When I was first called it, I hated it, indeed I refused to answer to it. But as time went on and I realized that the name was not going to go away, I accepted it, albeit to begin with the acceptance was somewhat grudgingly, but then over the months and years I grew to quite like it."

Jethro frowned. "But why . . . ? Oh, of course: 'Donald Mallard'. I get it."

"Yes. Sadly, virtually everyone associates the name 'Mallard' with the waterfowl. Far too few people are aware of the English A4 steam locomotive with that name. The Mallard ran from London to Edinburgh for decades, and in 1938 it obtained a speed of 202 kilometers an hour. To this day I do not know what possessed my parents to give me the name 'Donald'. But from Mother's reaction on the few occasions I have broached the subject, I think in all honesty they were not aware of the cartoon character 'Donald Duck'. But again, Mr. Gibbs, I digress."

Jethro shook his head. "Not to worry, Ducky. If I did need any proof that you can teach, you've just given it to me." He smiled at the look of pleasure that passed Ducky's face. "Your references said so, but paper can only tell you so much."

"Indeed that is true."

"Anyway, as I was saying, Ducky. I got a hell of a lot of applications for the position."

"If you'll forgive me for saying, Mr. Gibbs, I am not completely surprised. The salary and other benefits you are offering are considerable."

Jethro shrugged. "I can afford it. And I don't care what I pay to get the right person for Kelly, that's my daughter. Can I ask you ask you a personal question, Ducky?"

"You are the one interviewing me."

"Yeah, I am. Do I assume your motivation for applying for the job had little to do with the package I'm offering?"

"It would be foolish of me to say otherwise, would it not? As you say you have my résumé, as you Americans call it. You know where I was educated and a man of your ilk would have done, I have no doubt, some kind of background check on anyone to whom you were going to offer an interview. No, my reasons for applying had nothing at all to do with money. Do you wish to know why I applied?"

"Maybe later. For now let me tell you why I offered you the job after only one question. As I said I got a lot of applications and while yours is one of, if not the, best in terms of fulfilling my requirements and then some, I'm sure you won't be surprised to know that there were plenty of 'Doctors' and 'Professors', including more than one with experience of home schooling."

"I certainly am not. But thank you, Mr. Gibbs."

"Jethro."

"I am sorry."

"You might as well call me 'Jethro'. Assuming you accept the offer, we're going to spend a fair bit of time together and I've never stood on ceremony."

Ducky looked at him for a moment. "I think until I have accepted your offer, I would feel happier calling you 'Mr. Gibbs'. As you said, we Britains are very formal, and Eton makes you even more so."

Jethro shrugged. "If it makes you more comfortable, that's fine. As I said I had a good choice of applicants, even after I'd gotten rid of those who weren't suitable, I still had well over forty who on paper were ideal. After a week of interviewing I got to the stage where I needed to cut the process down. So I took to asking the question I asked you. You're the first person to give me that answer. The rest of them, no matter what they might really have thought, gave me the answer they thought I wanted to hear."

"That it is was wrong, disgusting, depraved, sick, against nature, against God."

"Yeah, and a lot worse than that. So they got shown the door straight off. You see, Ducky, my wife left me for another woman."

"Oh."

"Yeah. And I admit when she first told me I . . . Well, you can probably guess, can't you?"

"I imagine I can."

"I've never had a problem with gay people. I have gay friends. My best friend at school was gay, and my legal assistant is, but -" Jethro stopped; suddenly he wasn't sure how to phrase the next sentence.

"It is somewhat different when it is your wife who is not only involved with another woman, but who is leaving you for one?"

"Yeah. And yes, part of it was to do with my masculine pride. So I behaved like a jerk at first; I told her she'd never see Kelly again - and I'm a good lawyer, Ducky, a damn good one. I could have done it, and she knew it. But then after a few days I calmed down and stopped thinking of myself and my hurt pride and thought of Kelly. She was only six; did I really want to deprive her of her mommy? So I told Shannon, that's my ex-wife's name, I wanted to meet her lover. I did and I liked her. Damn it, there was the woman who was taking, who had taken, my wife away from me, and I liked her. We talked and I could see how much Shannon was hurting and how much Jenny cared for her, loved her, and . . . What could I do?"

"I know what a lot of men would have done." Ducky spoke quietly.

"Yeah, well. Maybe I'm not like most men. We came to an agreement. Kelly would live with me, but she'd visit her mom and aunt Jenn several times a year. And so far it's worked really well. It's been a year since we divorced and two years since Shannon left me, and Kelly is the same well adjusted girl she always was. It was a bit tough at first, but I don't need to go into that now. I'm sure you can imagine."

Ducky nodded. "Yes, I can. Very easily."

"Kell had always been home schooled, mainly by Shannon, and for a while I tried to juggle teaching her myself and my job, but that wasn't working. So I employed someone. She was here for just over a year, but in the end it just didn't work out. To be honest, I feel a bit bad about it, as I'd got a feeling for a few months that Kell wasn't happy. But I was even busier than normal at work, and so I . . . Well, that's all in past now. Anyway, once she'd done we went back to me, or mainly books, while I tried to find the perfect person. And I have."

The steady blue stare continued to watch him. "I can see now why you asked the question and why my answer pleased you."

"Yeah. Kelly will suffer enough from society making her feel that it's wrong for her mommy to live with another woman. I sure as hell wasn't going to employ a tutor who wasn't at the very least tolerant of it, and ideally one who has no problems with it at all. So do you want the job?"

"Well, I -"

"Hang on, I better tell you the terms of employment first. You'll get an idea of just why I'm offering the package I am."

Ducky leaned back again in his chair. "Very well."

Something suddenly came to Jethro. "Although, before I waste my time or yours, I'm going to ask you if you are at least, in principle, interested in the position? After all, just because homosexuality doesn't bother you, it doesn't mean that you want to work for a family where there is a homosexual. Or I suppose I should technically say 'lesbian'. So?"

"The prospect would not trouble me in the slightest, Mr. Gibbs. However, in the same light, to save you wasting your time, mine is far more flexible, there is something you should know."

Jethro frowned and looked carefully at Ducky. "Go on."

Ducky met the stare and held it unblinkingly. "I myself am gay," he said, his voice low and flat.

As Jethro stared at him he saw, for the first time, how 'vocal' Ducky's eyes were, how they told their own story as to what Ducky was feeling. And now he read slight apprehension as well, to his delight, a hint of a challenge. This man, who on the face of it, seemed very amiable and willing, was not a walk over. "I'd be more than a bit of a hypocrite if I said it bothered me, wouldn't I? And while I have a reputation in the legal world as being a bit of a bastard and I've other less positive traits, one thing I've never been is a hypocrite. So, no, it doesn't trouble me."

Ducky continued to look at him and now along with the mild apprehension and the challenge, was a hint of surprise.

"Did you really think I was going to say it did?" Jethro asked, his voice low.

"It would not necessarily have surprised me, Mr. Gibbs. It is one thing for you to accept your wife's relationship with another woman because of your daughter, but quite another for you to accept that the man you are considering offering the position of tutor to your said daughter is also gay. It would have been quite normal for you to have at the very least expressed some concern. If it helps," Ducky went on, apparently reading something in Jethro that Jethro wasn't fully aware he was showing. "From what you had said, and from the way you said it as well as from your body language and other signs, I do not think I expected you to say it would."

Jethro blinked, as he tried to follow the more than a little convoluted statement. In the end he focused on one part. "You do not think you expected, but you don't know? Forgive me, Ducky, but that sounds strange."

Ducky glanced away for a moment before looking back up. "Yes, I am aware it does, and I understand it does. However, given that I was hoping your reaction would be as it is, I cannot be one hundred percent certain that my hope was not projecting itself strongly onto my - I believe I am just confusing us both, am I not?"

"You think?" Jethro smiled. "Ah, Ducky. Okay, so being the lawyer I am, let me just clarify: it doesn't bother you that you'd be working for a family where one of the people connected with it, is gay and it doesn't bother me that you're gay."

"That sums it up, very concisely, Mr. Gibbs, yes."

"Okay. So I was going to tell you about the down side to this job and the reason for the high salary, the accommodation, the car, the medical insurance and pension plan. It's simply because it's not your nine to five, straight forward, five day a week job."

"I assure you, Jeth- Er, Mr. Gibbs, that as Housemaster in a boy's boarding house, I am well used to working considerably longer than the hours I am actually teaching."

"Good point. But there'll also be an element of, what I guess I should call 'babysitting', but please don't tell Kell I used that term."

Ducky smiled. "I promise."

"I have a housekeeper, but she doesn't live in. That's the way I like it. I work an eight to ten hour day at the office and then if necessary I do some work here in the evenings once Kelly is in bed. But unless something really, really urgent and vital comes up, I'm always home by 6:00 p.m. so that Kelly and I can have dinner together. Mrs. Stewart goes home when I get here. However, there are times when I have to go away from a few days to a conference or something, and I don't want to ask Mrs. Stewart, she has a disabled husband to care for, to stay here. So it would fall to you to move from the attached apartment into this main house while I was away. Kelly's a good kid, a very good kid. She's no trouble and I'm not just saying that - I wouldn't. She is good, and so it's not a huge task, but it's another commitment. Plus, if I was held up and couldn't get home by six then -"

"It would be my job to be here once Mrs. Stewart had gone, to keep an eye on Kelly."

"Yeah."

"That would not be a problem."

Jethro nodded. "Good. Then there are holidays. It's a good amount again. But they have to be taken at certain times, which I know as a teacher you're used to, but for all I know one of the reasons you applied for the job was because you wanted more flexibility. Sorry, you wouldn't get it. Kelly has set times she goes to visit Shannon and Jenny and those are the times you would take your leave. What you do would be entirely up to you, but if you wanted to stay in the apartment, that's up to you. The apartment would be to all intents and purposes yours."

"After twenty-five years as a teacher, Mr. Gibbs, I assure you I am completely used to having set holidays. Again that would not be a problem. Flexibility was not a reason I applied for the position.

Jethro nodded. "Okay. The other main, well I'm not sure if you call it a perk or a downside, 'extra', is that when I take Kelly away on vacation I'd expect you to come too. I like to show her different countries and cities and cultures, but I tend to need to work as well. So it'd be part holiday and part education."

"Again, I assure you that would most definitely be a 'perk' as you call it, not a downside. May I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"You say I would have to take holidays at set times and that I assure you is not a problem. But what if something really important came up? For example, I am an only child, my father is dead and my mother, whilst not in poor health or particularly old, is . . . Well, one always has to -"

"Ducky, if your mom got sick and you had to fly back to the UK that would not be a problem. We'd manage. I'm not that much of an ogre."

Ducky smiled. "If it isn't too presumptuous of me to say so, I do not believe you are any kind of ogre at all."

Jethro laughed. "Tell you what, let's see if you can say the same to me in three months. Oh, and that is one more thing." Ducky raised an eyebrow. "Contract. Initially, so that both sides can be sure, it's for three months. But after that it's until Kelly is eighteen. And she's almost eight now. And remember I am a lawyer. I can, and will, make the contract loophole free. Kelly's been messed about enough in the last two years, and as accepting as she seems to be about her mommy leaving and she seems really happy to go and visit, and when she comes back she's full of what they did, it's still an upheaval."

"How often does she visit?"

"Three or four times a year. Currently it's been four weeks in the late summer; two weeks in December, and two weeks in the spring, plus last year she also went for a week in the fall. But once you've taken the job, assuming you do, we can sit down and work out a schedule that'll suit all parties. Shannon and Jenny have said they'll be as flexible as they can as far as times they can have her go. I reckon Shannon is prepared to go out of her way to be accommodating, to be honest. The important thing is that Kell goes three or four times a year. I don't want her to forget her mommy or lose touch. It's a lot for her, but as I keep saying, she seems balanced. But I'm not going to employ a tutor who she'll get used to only to have to employ someone else a year or two down the line. I want something in her life to be a constant. And weighing everything up, that's probably the biggest downside to the job. It's long term, Ducky."

"I have been at Eton for twenty-five years."

"Yeah, but your contract is what . . . ? A month? Two's notice?"

"A term, actually. But I take your point."

"You'd be committing yourself to giving up your home and moving thousand of miles to a new country for ten years. And that is the only reason I came extremely close to not offering you an interview." Jethro spoke quietly. "Could you do that, Duck?" He spoke the name without thinking; without even being consciously aware he'd shortened what was already a nickname. "Could you give up everything you've known, home, family, friends, a -" He broke off.

Ducky smiled. "If that it your tactful way of trying to ascertain if I have a lover to give up, then the answer is no. I do not. Not anymore. He . . . um." He glanced down at his lap. For a moment Jethro thought Ducky wasn't going to continue.

Then as he watched, he saw Ducky swallow hard and look back up. "He is dead," he said softly. "Apart from my mother and some dear friends there is nothing to keep me in the UK, Mr. Gibbs. I have been thinking for some time now that I was growing stale stuck in the same place I had, apart from the few years I spent at Edinburgh, been since I was a boy of thirteen. To that end I tendered my resignation, it was not an easy decision to make, and more than once during the term I nearly changed my mind and came close to asking the Headmaster if I could take it back. But I stopped myself. I had got to the stage where I was questioning whether I was being fair to the boys under my tutorage and if I was giving them enough. So I stuck to my decision and left Eton, as you must know, several months ago. I had given serious consideration to travelling the world, as you ascertained I do not need an income. But I knew I would tire of that after a while. I may not need an income, but I enjoy the stimulation of teaching the young, of sharing my knowledge, of helping to give something back. The ten years would not be a problem."

"You sure?" Jethro found himself holding his breath as he looked at the man sitting on the opposite side of the desk.

Ducky smiled. "Yes. Yes, Mr. Gibbs." Then his smile became wider and he said solemnly, "Yes, Jethro. I am quite certain."

Jethro let out the breath he'd been holding and smiled too. "In that case," he said, standing up and holding out his hand to Ducky, who took it and shook it. "You'd better come and meet Kelly."

CHAPTER TWO

Jethro opened the door for Ducky and ushered him into the hall.

"Have you finished, Mr. Gibbs? Shall I show Dr. Mallard out for you?" The lady Jethro had addressed as 'Grace' appeared from the room where Ducky had waited before being interviewed.

Jethro gave her a distracted smile. "I have, thank you, Grace. But there's no need. I'm taking Dr. Mallard to meet Kelly - he's going to be her new tutor. Dr. Mallard meet Grace Jenkins, my assistant. I couldn't survive each day without her."

"Or rather my coffee," she said. She smiled and held out her hand to Ducky. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Mallard. I'm pleased to hear Mr. Gibbs has finally found the right person."

"I'm pleased to meet you too, Ms. Jenkins," Ducky shook the proffered hand and found it to be cool and firm. That pleased him; one thing he had never liked was a limp handshake.

"Grace was beginning to think it was never going to happen," Jethro said. "And to tell the truth, Ducky, I was beginning to wonder the same thing myself."

"Mr. Gibbs has always been a very exacting person - especially to work for," Grace said in a fond tone.

Jethro rolled his eyes. "Gee thanks, Grace. That's it; put Ducky off even before he meets Kelly."

Ducky watched the interaction between boss and assistant with interest. It was quite one thing to see the man for whom he would be working in an interview sense, even when it became fairly informal and relaxed, but often the best way to truly know someone, to really get to see what they were like was to observe them interacting with people they employed. You could tell a considerable amount about a person while seeing their management skills. It was clear that there was a lot of mutual respect, as well as liking, between Jethro and his assistant, and that, Ducky felt, was a positive thing. The balance between the formality and informality seemed to work well, and he suspected that neither of them overstepped what was often an invisible line.

She laughed and turned back to Ducky. "Kelly is a lovely girl, Dr. Mallard - very bright and very fond of asking questions."

Jethro also laughed. "Oh, yes. She certainly is."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Gibbs, I shouldn't keep you any longer. Um, would you like me to," Grace flashed a look at Ducky, who without appearing to do so, took a step away from Jethro and Grace and began to study a picture on the wall.

"Yeah, you better. Contact them and give my apologies and say the position has been filled. If any have made special journeys, clearly I'll pay for their time and any other expenses. If any of them create problems, take their number and I'll get back to them. I don't see any point of going through the façade of interviewing them when there isn't a job. I don't want to waste my time or theirs. Is that okay, Grace? Do you mind doing that?"

"Not at, Mr. Gibbs. I'll get straight onto it. Nice to have met you, Dr. Mallard. I hope you'll be very happy and I am sure we will meet again." She smiled at him and again offered her hand.

"Thank you, Ms. Jenkins," he took her hand again and shook it.

Then she went back into the other room and closed the door.

"She's very efficient. Sometimes scarily so," Jethro said. "I can assure you there will be no calls for me to return. Now, come on, let's go and meet that daughter of mine."

He led Ducky along a corridor that had half a dozen doors opening off it until he reached one door that was half open. He pushed it open further and Ducky saw a young girl with long reddish hair sitting crossed legged on a low armchair reading a book. "Hey, pumpkin," Jethro called.

She looked up. "Daddy!" she cried, jumping up and running towards him. Ducky was pleased to see that she had taken the time to put a bookmark into her book before dropping it onto the chair rather than turning down the corner of the page, or just leaving the book open thus cracking the spine.

Jethro swung her effortlessly up into his arms and kissed her cheek. "Have you been a good girl?" he asked.

"Of course. Aren't I always?"

Jethro laughed and put her back down, ruffling her hair and then pushing it back from her face. "Kelly, I'd like to meet your new tutor: Dr. Donald Mallard. Dr. Mallard this is my daughter, Kelly."

Ducky held out his hand to the young girl. "Hello, Kelly," he said. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He waited to see if she was going to giggle at his name.

She took his hand and looked up at him, her head on one said, her tone solemn, "A mallard is a duck, isn't it?" she asked. "Is that why your mommy and daddy called you 'Donald'?"

"Well, yes, Kelly, a 'mallard' is indeed a duck. But it is something else as well."

"Oooh, is it? Tell me, please." Her eyes shone with expectation as she looked up at him.

Ducky glanced at Jethro, who just shrugged and mouthed 'told you so'.

Ducky looked back at Kelly and answered her 'demand'. "The Mallard, as far too people are aware, was also an English A4 steam locomotive which ran from London to Edinburgh for decades. In 1938 it obtained a speed of 202.7 kilometers an hour, and to this day, she holds the word speed record for a steam locomotive."

Kelly's eyes shone even brighter. "Is she still working?" she demanded.

Ducky shook his head. "No. She was decommissioned, taken out of service," he added, as a slight frown appeared on Kelly's face, "in 1963. Although, I prefer the word 'retired' rather than 'decommissioned', it has a friendlier ring to it, don't you think?"

Kelly nodded, clearly fascinated. "What happened to her?"

"Well, in the 1980s she was restored to fully working order. However, she has not been operated since then, except for a couple of special runs in 1986 and 1987. She is part of the National Collection of the National Railway Museum in York."

Kelly turned to her father. "Can we go and see her, Daddy?" she demanded.

"Dr. Mallard means 'York' in Great Britain, pumpkin," Jethro said gently. "Not the one in Pennsylvania."

"Oh," she said, her tone suddenly subdued. Then instantly she brightened again. "You're always saying I need to see new places, Daddy, so we can go to Britain and I can see her. Are you British?" she said, turning her attention back to Ducky.

Ducky nodded. "Yes, I am."

"Do you like Enid Blyton?"

Even though he was used to children, the speed with which Kelly's mind seemed to switch was slightly surprising. Again he glanced at Jethro, again a shrug and a 'up to you' look was what he received.

Then, before he could answer, Jethro said, "Why don't you move your book and teddy and let Dr. Mallard sit down, Kelly?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dr. Mallard," and hastily Kelly gathered the book, again Ducky was pleased to see she handled it with care, her teddy and a small blanket from the chair and put them on her bed. "Please do sit down, Dr. Mallard," she said formally, waving her hand at the chair. "And you can sit on my bed, Daddy," she added, glancing over her shoulder.

"Thank you, Kelly," Ducky replied, glancing at the very low chair and wishing he felt able to suggest that he'd prefer to sit on the bed and leave the chair to Jethro. It would not help his leg sitting down so low, nor did it look an easy chair to get out of. But he didn't feel able to; sometimes he regretted being British. Carefully he sat down. When he was seated, the chair was actually surprisingly comfortable, he saw Jethro drop down onto Kelly's bed and Kelly herself sat cross legged on the floor in front of him, leaning forward and putting her chin in her joined arms and looking up at him.

"Well? Do you?" she asked.

Ducky nodded. "As a matter of fact, Kelly, I do. I read a lot of her books when I was a boy, and was very fond of her."

"What was your favorite?"

"Oh, it's been quite a few years since I read her books. I'm not sure I remember having a favorite."

"Mine's The Faraway Tree, St. Clare's and Malory Towers and Amelia Jane. But you'd better not tell Mommy I like those because Amelia Jane's a naughty girl. But she's not as naughty as the Naughtiest Girl. She's very naughty." Kelly giggled. "I think I'd like to go to a school like Malory Towers or St. Clare's, but then I'd have to leave Daddy behind and he'd be sad." Finally she stopped speaking.

"What about The Famous Five books?" Ducky asked. "Do you like those?"

Kelly put her head on one side again, took one hand away from under her chin and twisted her hair. "I think there are too many of them," she said, after considering Ducky's question. "They got very samesome. I think she should have wrote less."

"Written fewer." The correction came automatically and as he realized what he'd said, Ducky glanced at Jethro, who just smiled and winked.

"There you go, Kell," he said, learning forward and touching her head. "You listen to Dr. Mallard; he'll teach you how to speak properly."

"Why?" Kelly asked, looking at Ducky.

"I'm sorry, Kelly?"

"Why is it 'written fewer' rather than 'wrote less'?"

Ducky hid a smile. "I tell you what, Kelly, we'll make the subject of our first proper lesson."

"Okay," she said brightly. "Did you know I'm not supposed to like Enid Blyton?"

"Kelly?" Jethro spoke. "Who told you that?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "Mrs. Temple. She was my tutor before you. I didn't like her."

"Kelly!"

"Well, I didn't Daddy. Do you want me to lie and say I did? You and Mommy told me not to tell lies."

Jethro looked up at the ceiling and shook his head, while Ducky hid a smile. "Why did Mrs. Temple say you shouldn't like Enid Blyton, Kelly?" he asked.

She looked at him and frowned. "She said they weren't real. I didn't understand what she meant. Of course they aren't real, they're stories. She said the little girls and boys were too well behaved and all had money. I said that was okay because my daddy's rich. But I like the books. The girls don't have as much fun as the boys and some of them are samesome, but I like them. And my class likes them too."

Ducky cocked an eyebrow. "Your class?"

Kelly nodded. "Yes. My dolls and teddy bears and other cuddly toys. I teach them. I'll teach them what I'm taught. Mrs. Temple said that was silly. Is it silly, Dr. Mallard?"

Ducky shook his head. "No. Teaching is actually a very good way of learning and remembering a new subject. I think it is a very good idea."

Jethro leaned forward and put his hand on Kelly's shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me about Mrs. Temple, Kelly?" he asked.

She turned to look at him and to Ducky's amusement patted his hand. "Because you were very busy, Daddy. And I didn't want to bother you. And I knew she wasn't going to stay. So it didn't matter. So I ignored her. But now I've got Dr. Mallard, I won't ignore him."

"I'm pleased to hear it, Kelly," Ducky said. "So who else do you like to read about from Enid Blyton?" He'd already seen various bookcases in the room he'd been interviewed in, the hall and in Kelly's own bedroom and that pleased him. She was clearly used to books and reading.

Kelly was silent for a moment; Ducky could see her thinking. After a minute of two, she answered him. "I like the Shiloh books by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, do you know those?"

Ducky shook his head. "No, I am afraid I do not."

Kelly jumped up and ran over to the bookcase, pulled out a book and ran back again. "Here you are," she said. "You can borrow it. This is the first book. There are two more."

"Thank you, Kelly," Ducky said taking the book.

But she held onto it. "You don't turn page corners down, do you?" she demanded.

"Kelly!" Jethro spoke firmly. "Apologize to Dr. Mallard."

She looked slightly perplexed, but dutifully said. "I'm sorry, Dr. Mallard."

"That's all right, Kelly," he said. "And I assure you I do not turn page corners down. It's a horrible habit, is it not?"

Kelly nodded. "I had a friend who did that, not Maddie," she said, glancing at her father. "So I wouldn't lend her any more of my books."

"I wouldn't have done either, Kelly," Ducky assured her.

She beamed and finally let go of the book. Then she asked, "What's your favorite planet? I like Jupiter because of the rings. They're pretty. Daddy brought me a book for Christmas and you can see them. Shall I show it to you?"

"Kell," Jethro said firmly.

She looked at him. "Yes, Daddy?"

"Think that's enough questions for now."

"Oh. Very well, Daddy. Are you staying for dinner, Dr. Mallard?"

"Well, I -"

"I was going to ask you, Ducky," Jethro said. "But this minx wouldn't let me get a word in."

"Well, thank you, Jethro. That would be very nice. But I don't want to impose on you at such short notice." Out of the corner of his eye Ducky could see Kelly had her hands over her mouth and was desperately trying not to laugh. He couldn't blame her, and having spent half an hour with in her company he knew it wasn't malicious at all. So far it appeared from his lack of correcting her, Jethro hadn't noticed his daughter was fighting a what was clearly going to be losing battle.

"It's not an imposition. I can also show you the - Kelly, are you all right?" Jethro looked at his daughter, who was now jigging up and down on the spot. "Do you need to go to the bathroom?" he demanded. "If you do, go quickly."

It gave Kelly the out she needed. She nodded vigorously, turned and scampered from the room. Jethro watched her go. He turned back to Ducky and frowned. "She didn't need to pee, did she?"

Ducky looked up at him. "Well, as for that, I do not know, Jethro. But I believe her need was not as great as she made it out to be. I think she was trying hard not to laugh at you calling me 'Ducky'." As the frown deepened, Ducky said quickly, "Oh, don't be cross with her, Jethro, she wouldn't be the first child, indeed the first person, to react to my name."

"Hmm," was Jethro's answer, as he again glanced towards the door. "So will you stay?"

"If you are quite certain, I would be delighted to do so."

"Good. When Kell comes back I'll send her to tell Mrs. Stewart they'll be one extra for dinner. She always prepares something for us before she leaves for the evening and depending on what it is, she either cooks it and leaves it for me to reheat or leaves me detailed instructions as to how to cook it. I must admit more often than not it is simply a case of reheating. And while I've been interviewing, she's actually made sure it's cooked and ready for Kell and me to eat without the need to reheat. Oh, there you are," he said, as Kelly came back into the room. "You get there in time? Didn't wet yourself?"

"Daddy!" she exclaimed. "Of course I didn't. I'm a big girl now. I don't wet myself." Her mouth turned down and she suddenly looked much younger than her almost eight years and looked very sad.

Immediately Jethro was contrite. He opened his arms. "Come here, pumpkin," he said, gathering into his arms and rocking her. "I'm sorry. I was teasing you." He kissed the top of her head. "Forgive me?" he asked, after a moment or two. Ducky used the father and daughter moment to, more than a little inelegantly, struggle out of the chair.

"It's okay, Daddy," she said, her voice still very small. And then she tugged herself from her father's embrace and went over to Ducky. "And I'm sorry to you, Dr. Mallard," she said, standing in front of him with her gaze cast down at the carpet. "And to you, Daddy," she said, without looking up. "I lied to you. I didn't need to pee, I was laughing at you calling Dr. Mallard 'Ducky'. I'm sorry," she said again.

Ducky's instinct was to assure her it wasn't a problem. But he was still very much in limbo; yes, Jethro had offered him the position and he had verbally accepted, but neither side had committed themselves in writing, and as such he wasn't officially Kelly's tutor. So indeed of offering the instant 'that's quite all right, Kelly', he glanced over her head to where Jethro stood. Once again he received a shrug and a silent go-ahead to answer her.

"That's all right, Kelly," he said, putting his hand on her arm until she looked at him. "It's very brave of you to confess, not many children would have done that. A lot of people, adults as well as children, find it amusing. And I confess it does take some getting used to; I hated it at first, but now, you know, I rather like it."

"You're not cross with me?"

Ducky shook his head. "No, my dear," he said.

Finally she smiled at him. And then she turned around. "Daddy? Are you cross at me for lying to you?"

"You said you were sorry, Kelly, that's what's important. So, no, I'm not cross."

"Thank you."

"Now I'm going to take Dr. Mallard to see the apartment. Can you go and tell Mrs. Steward there will be a third person for dinner?"

She nodded. "Yes, Daddy. But can I do it in a minute, please?"

Jethro looked at her. "Kelly?"

"You see, now I really do need to pee." She began to giggle and then stopped. "Oooh," she said, and with that, she once again scurried out of the room. Together Ducky and Jethro began to laugh.

CHAPTER THREE

"So what do you think, Duck?" Jethro asked, as he led Ducky around the apartment. "It's a bit small. Will it be okay?" He looked concerned as he glanced around the place.

"Jethro, when I was a housemaster I had a bedroom and a study-come-sitting room, a minute kitchenette where I was able to make myself a cup of tea and a slice of toast, but nothing else, and a bathroom that reminded very much of the bathrooms I endured when I was a border myself at Eton. I assure you, this is perfectly fine."

"You sure? Because I could -"

Ducky shook his head. "It is fine, Jethro. I have a bedroom, a room that will be suitable for a study, a sitting room, a dining room, a wonderful kitchen and bathroom, and there's still another room. What else could I need?"

"It's just that, well, I assumed that . . . " Jethro trailed off and waved his hand in a vague gesture.

Ducky chuckled. "Ah. Well, yes, it is true my family home, and indeed the house in which I live during the school holidays, are both fairly large, but I often felt I was rattling around in the place. This will be wonderful."

"Good. And Mrs. Stewart will sort out the cleaning for you. I have a lady, Mrs. Abbott, who comes in a couple of times a week, she'll be happy to have a few more hours. She's having to bring up her son alone."

"Oh, dear. A widow?"

"No. I put her husband in prison. Well, not me personally. I don't tend to do much criminal law, but this arose from another case, and so I guess you could say I was responsible, in a way."

Ducky looked at him. "And you felt obliged to offer her a job as you felt guilty?"

"No. Well, yes. Well, actually, she came to see me. To, wait for it, Duck, to thank me."

Ducky raised his eyebrows. "To thank you?"

"Yeah. Turns out he'd abused her for years and she was scared for her son."

"Dear God," Ducky said.

"Yeah. Anyway, I put her in touch with a good divorce lawyer - Tobias Fornell, he's a good friend of mine, you'll meet him sometime. And Tobias is also sorting out custody, etc. so that the man can't get access to his son when he comes out of prison."

"How very sad."

Jethro nodded and said, his tone rueful, "Yeah. She's a lovely woman. I hope she'll find another guy one day who'll make her happy and care for her and her son. But in the meantime, she's happy to clean for me and a couple of other people I know, one of them is Tobias. That way she can be home for her son after school. But enough of that. If you're sure you're happy with this place and have seen enough, how about we go back next door and have a drink?"

Ducky smiled. "That sounds very pleasant, thank you. And please do be assured I really am more than happy with this apartment. It is beautiful, just like your home. However, I wonder if I might, um, emulate Kelly, shall we say?"

"Huh? Oh, right, sorry. Yeah. Go ahead. You remember where it is?"

"Thank you, yes. Yes, I do." And Ducky hurried off to the bathroom.

"Cheers, Duck," Jethro said, handing Ducky a glass of, what he promised was fairly decent, whiskey.

Ducky noticed that the use of 'Duck' rather than 'Ducky' was becoming a common occurrence. He wondered if he should say anything or not. Because if he were going to, it would have to be soon, tonight in fact; otherwise it would just sound foolish if he let it go on and finally said something.

After a few minutes consideration, he decided not to, as he wasn't certain or not if he disliked the diminutive of what was already a nickname or objected to it. He felt that maybe he ought to feel a little aggrieved at what could be considered to be a condescending thing for Jethro to do. However, he had noticed that Jethro often shortened his daughter's name and, it appeared, his ex-wife's lover's name too, from time to time. So he decided, on reflection, to say nothing.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Jethro," he said, suddenly aware that his about-to-be-employer had spoken again. "I believe you asked me something?"

Jethro lips twitched and he was now sitting down in the armchair set at an angle to the one Ducky sat in. "Only if the whiskey was okay."

"Oh, yes, it's very nice," Ducky said quickly.

Jethro nodded. "Probably better if you try it before you answer," he said, and began to laugh.

After a second or two, Ducky joined in. "Oh, Jethro, do forgive me," he said. "I was . . . It doesn't matter." He sipped his drink. "It is, as I said, very good." They laughed again.

For a few minutes they sat in what was amazingly, given how short a time they knew one another and the fact that really their 'relationship' wasn't exactly equal, relaxed silence.

It was Jethro who broke it. "So now that you've met my daughter, have you changed your mind?"

"About becoming her tutor? No, not at all. Quite the opposite. I believe she will be very stimulating to teach."

Jethro let out a sigh of what sounded like relief. Ducky wondered if he really had believed Ducky might change his mind. "Good," he said, and took another swallow from his glass. Then he glanced at Ducky and frowned slightly. "Is 'stimulating' good or bad?" he asked.

"Oh, good. Definitely good," Ducky said. "Seriously, Jethro, I am really looking forward to tutoring your daughter. I know I am going to enjoy it."

"Kell has certainly taken to you. I didn't say anything before you met her, as I wanted you to go in 'cold', but she's not a child who takes to strangers quickly. I reckon that's in part my fault with insisting on home schooling her."

"It was you who made the suggestion, was it?"

Jethro nodded. "Yeah. You'd never know it but she was quite a sickly kid between the ages of three and six. Came down with everything that was going. She did go to kindergarten, but missed more days than she was there. We didn't want her to get behind, so we, well mostly Shannon I was at work, started to teach her basic stuff. And she loved it. It seemed to help her get better quicker, and was way ahead of Maddie, the little girl she mentioned, she's her best frien and Emily, she's Tobias's daughter, and other kids, so I suggested to Shannon we carry on doing it, teaching Kell at home."

"And did Shannon agree with you?"

"We argued, well as much as we ever did. She always said arguing with a lawyer was a waste of time as we're paid to argue. Guess she's right." Jethro smiled.

"Do you miss her?" Again Ducky spoke without thinking. It was partly Jethro's own fault, he wasn't treating Ducky as an employee. Maybe that was partly the American way, maybe it was Jethro, but whatever it was, it was dangerous. "Oh, do, please, forgive me, Mr. Gibbs," Ducky hastened to say, forcibly putting the relationship back on the correct footing.

Jethro raised an eyebrow and then looked around him. "Nope, can't see him. Mind you, given he's been dead for ten years, I guess I'd be shocked if I could."

Ducky just looked at him. "Um," he managed.

"Sorry, Duck. I'm teasing you - Shannon said that was another bad habit I had. I was referring to my father; he was 'Mr. Gibbs'. Except he wasn't; he much preferred - Oh, but now I'm digressing. Where was I? Oh, yeah. There's no need to apologize - don't ever think that. Do I miss Shannon? Okay, true lawyer's answer: 'yes' and 'no'. I miss the girl I married, I miss the woman who gave birth to Kelly, I miss the wonderful mother and wife she was. But I don't miss the woman she now is, because the woman she now is, isn't my Shannon. She's Jenny's. If you're asking would I want her back. Then that's a clear answer: no, I wouldn't. But not for all the normal reasons, not because of my masculine pride. But because -"

"Daddy. Daddy. Mrs. Stewart says I can set the table. But she told me to ask you which placemats to use."
 

CHAPTER FOUR

After dinner (Ducky told himself he should remember to refer to it as thus, rather than 'supper' after all one should try to assimilate the culture in which you lived) and Kelly had been sent off to have a bath and get into bed, Ducky again found himself being invited to spend a hour or so with his new employer.

For a moment he had considered refusing, but then he'd realized that although he and Jethro had talked about various things, quite what Jethro expected from Ducky as a tutor in terms of lessons and subjects hadn't arisen. Thus he had accepted Jethro's offer and settled down in the comfortable sitting room with another glass of whiskey.

Dinner had been filled with Kelly asking question after question, until finally Jethro had put a firm but gentle stop to it. Ducky was pleased to have more evidence that while Jethro clearly did, to an extent, spoil Kelly and doted on her, he was also a firm, even strict, parent. It would have been very easy to have gone over-board and compensated too much when Shannon had walked away. Added to the fact that only children tended, in Ducky's experience, to be somewhat more spoilt than children with siblings, plus the fact that given she didn't go to school, she was used to one-on-one attention pretty much day in day out, Kelly could easily have been quite the brat. But she wasn't; she was, Ducky had already ascertained, a tad precocious, but Ducky didn't see that as a bad thing.

"Sorry about that," Jethro said, striding back into the room and pushing the sitting room door half closed. He put a small what looked similar to a hand held dictation machine down on the table. Ducky cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, that," Jethro said, looking a little self-deprecating. "I know she's almost eight, as she keeps telling me, but - It's a fairly large house and I'm not necessarily going to hear her if she calls out. Not that she does; I know she was sickly to begin with, but ever since then she's never had a day's sickness. Well apart from the odd tummy upset if she's gotten over-excited or I haven't been quite as strict as I should have been with what's she's eating."

"You don't need to justify yourself to me, Jethro," Ducky said quietly.

"Is that what it sounded like I was doing?" Jethro looked at Ducky.

"A little, yes. You shouldn’t worry. I can quite understand how you feel. Many parents have some kind of alarm in their child's room until the child is quite old."

"Maybe. But this goes when Kelly's nine. I promised her. She thinks she's too old for it now, but . . . Oh, ignore me."

"I'm not really sure I should 'ignore' the man who is employing me," Ducky said quietly.

For a moment a dark look and a frown crossed Jethro's face; Ducky didn't quite understand it. "I know I am employing you, Ducky, but a tutor is a bit different from most employees. And I don't see you as my employee. Not in that sense."

Ducky leaned back in his chair. "Do you not?"

Jethro shook his head. "No."

"Than how do you see me?"

Jethro shrugged. "Not sure really. A potential friend, I hope. Which I know to you must sound stupid and pretentious."

"And you'd think that because . . . ?" Ducky asked, keeping the smile that wanted to creep out to himself.

"You're British. What?" Jethro demanded, looking at Ducky who had lost the battle with his smile.

"I'm sorry, Jethro. I am not laughing at you, I am merely a little," he paused for a moment and chose his next word carefully. "Intrigued, shall we say, by how you perceive the British."

Jethro just stared at him for a while, before shaking his head and saying, "Well, I guess you're going to have to teach me what a real Brit is like then, aren't you?"

Ducky chuckled softly. "I shall certainly do my best," he said. And then, as Jethro had given him the perfect opening he said, "Talking of teaching, I think it would be a good idea if we discussed exactly what you expect from me as a tutor, in respect of Kelly's education. I confess that I am not exactly au fait with the American school system in general and home schooling in particular. I understand it, of course, at a broad, general level and there are some similarities and some differences between your system and the one to which I am used. But home schooling seems quite different. I assume you have some kind of guides and levels the child in question must attain? Regular tests, etc?"

"It is a bit complicated as it's yet another of those areas where we no two states are the same. Some, like Texas, have minimal requirements, others are more intensified. Not all states insist on testing and assessment. You can end up with kids being home schooled, who can barely read or write." Jethro said.

"And here, in Virginia?"

"I've put together a pack of useful information I'll let you have it before you go. Basically it's a copy of the full text of Virginia Home Education Law to give you a general overview of how it works. If you're suffering from insomnia, I recommend reading it; like most legal documents it's fairly long winded and boring - and that's coming from a lawyer. The most significant parts are the Compulsory Attendance Code and the Home Instruction Statute. Legally I've done everything to fit in with the requirements, so you needn't worry about that side of it."

Ducky nodded. He had expected no less. "What about the teaching program itself? Or method of teaching?"

"There are a lot of those here, from 'Classical' to something called 'Unschooling', which is basically, as far as I can see, where no one teaches the kids anything, they just are left to get on with it themselves."

"Ah," said Ducky. "That sounds rather like the kind of free expression I've heard about, where children are allowed to put paint wherever they want to, be it on the walls or the floor or anything else, and are not disciplined at all."

"Oh, yes. I know some kids like that. Kelly isn't one of them." Jethro said quickly.

"I can see that."

"Good. We've generally been following the traditional schooling more. Formal home schooling, where it's most like a normal school. It seemed far more sensible, given neither Shannon or I are trained teachers. And it meant we had levels and standards, and always knew where we were. We bought complete curriculums, so we knew exactly what we were doing."

Ducky nodded. "That sounds very sensible, I must say. How does it work for Kelly? Does she seem to enjoy it? Is she settled into that method?"

Jethro shrugged. "Mostly. Although I have noticed over the last few months she seems bored and less full of questions, not that you'd have noticed that tonight," he said, and smiled. "But that's the most animated I've seen her for a while, when it comes to lessons."

"She genuinely seems to want to learn," Ducky said, taking another sip of his drink.

Jethro nodded. "She does, very much so. That's why I didn't want to stagger on with a tutor here and a tutor there and me doing bits at weekends. I wanted it to be more formal, hence the longish search to find just the right person."

Ducky smiled. "And is this the system with which you would want me to continue?"

Jethro drained his glass and stood up and grabbed the bottle. "Another?" he asked, nodding at Ducky's glass.

"Well, I'm not sure if I - Oh, very well, thank you."

"And just in case you're wondering, but not sure how you can ask me, no, I don't drink this amount every evening."

Ducky felt his face flush. "I assure you, Mr. Gibbs, I wasn't for one moment thinking something so personal." He spoke formally.

Jethro looked at him and held up one hand. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean -"

"I know," Ducky said. "Now you were about to tell me if you wished me to continue with the formal style of home schooling."

"In many ways I think you should be the one to decide that. Or at least," Jethro said quickly, "be the one to advise me. Another method which I know is very popular is the 'Eclectic Method'. It's basically where a mixture and a variety of learning resources are used, and it's more tailored to the individual child. We did think about that, but we didn't want Kelly to end up missing out anything important and anything essential to satisfy the state."

Ducky listened as Jethro spoke, listening to the tone as well as the words. He got the impression that Jethro was more enthusiastic about the eclectic method than he had been by the more formal method. "I have to say this kind of learning sounds, for someone like Kelly, more interesting. You said she seemed to be getting a little bored. That could be due to a variety of reasons, one being she was being taught at too simplistic a level, she wasn't being stimulated, another that she was bored by the subject."

"She's not that fond of, or good at, math," Jethro said. "I get the impression she doesn't really understand a lot of it. I'm all for catering to her levels and tailoring to fit, but not at the expense of a good general, overall education."

"Oh, I agree," Ducky said. "Naturally I will more after I have read the various laws and seen a curriculum, I take it that will be acceptable?"
 

Jethro nodded. "Yeah. It's in the pack I've put together."

"Thank you. As I was saying I'll know more when I have read the paperwork and spent some time with Kelly. My suggestion, based on what you say, is that in the beginning we continue with the formal curriculum for a while, whilst I get a feeling for her strengths and weaknesses, with maybe introducing a few extra things."

"Such as?"

"Well, how would you feel about me teaching her to speak Latin? I know," Ducky said, hurrying on, "that there is not exactly any call for the subject these days, unless she is likely to go into the medical profession or follow you into law. Although even then one does not need to understand a vast amount of the language to get by. However, it is a stimulating subject in many ways. I think she might enjoy it."

Jethro shrugged. "I don't have a problem with that. Not at all, Duck. Anything else?"

"Well, you yourself said that many of your holidays are partly for enjoyment and partly for education, I would like to maybe extend on that. There are art galleries and other such things, as well as the theatre, even the opera when she is a little older." Ducky saw Jethro looking him carefully and changed track of what he was saying. "Oh, dear, have I maybe made you think twice about your offer of the position of Kelly's tutor? I did say you should have -"

"What makes you think that, Duck?" Jethro asked.

"Well here I am talking about Latin and the opera; they are not exactly exciting subjects for an eight year old, or for most people. I think I am showing my age somewhat. You know, Jethro, I do wonder if someone younger might not be . . . " Ducky trailed off under Jethro's stare.

"You'll do fine. I told you, I haven't seen Kell this animated for too many months. Plus she took to you instantly, and also as I said, she doesn’t take to people straight off. The Kelly you saw today is the real Kelly, the Kelly I wasn't certain you would see. I expected her to be quiet, a bit clingy of me, overly polite and very much reserved. She wasn't. You're the right person to teach her."

Ducky looked at Jethro and saw he was speaking the truth. "In that case, I shall stop trying to talk myself out of a job," he said.

"Good. So you reckon we should change systems, then?"

"I did get a little off-track, did I not?" Jethro just smiled. "No, well not straight away. I do think I should assess her as she is now, see how she is with the formal system for a while, and then I'll advise you on what I think would be best. My instinct, based on what you have told me, what I have observed in the short time I have spent with Kelly, together with my knowledge of children, albeit older than your daughter, would be that she would do better with a less rigid system. Not just academically, but also overall. I think it would be better to stick to curriculum sets for some subjects, but be less rigid in others."

Jethro nodded. "Sounds good to me. So when can you start? I know you haven't got to give a notice period, but I assume you're going to need a bit of time to sort things out?"

Ducky nodded. "Yes, I shall need to return to the UK for a couple of weeks or so, maybe up to a month. I need to see Mother, and also there are things I would like to bring with me. I take it you would have no objections if I brought some of my childhood favorite books for Kelly to read? I know that some of them won't be available generally here, but I think she'd like them."

"If you don't mind, I don't. Look, Duck, I know you feel you're my employee and," Jethro added swiftly, "you are, I get that. But you're the expert. Okay, not in home schooling and not in kids of Kelly's age - or sex, I guess," he said. "Eton is boys only, isn't it?"

Ducky nodded. "Yes. I have a little experience of some one-to-one tutoring of girls, which I did during various school holidays, but generally yes, it is boys."

"But as I was saying you're the expert. I doubt you could suggest anything I'm going to object to. So if you want to bring her books or take her to art galleries - can you drive an automatic, by the way?"

"Um, I have done so once or twice. However, I am more used to a transmission gear box," Ducky said. "I have to confess I do rather prefer being in control of a car, rather than it of me. However, I know your country favors the automatic, so I am sure I can adapt."

"It's up to you, Duck. Whatever you'd prefer. I guess the advantage of getting an automatic is that if needs be I could drive it, and I don't drive a shift stick, never have done."

"I could teach you," Ducky said, before he really thought about what he was saying. "Oh, forgive me; that was presumptuous of me."

Jethro shook his head. "Not at all. Actually, it's a good idea. A damn good idea. And in turn, I'll help you learn about cars controlling you. And then when she gets to that age Kell can learn both too. So a non-automatic it is. So I was saying, whatever you think is right for her educationally, I'm not going to disagree with or object to. You don’t need to clear every single thing with me."

Ducky looked at Jethro. "Very well," he said, after a moment or two. He decided he would have to be a little more subtle. It was all very well Jethro giving him carte blanch, but to begin with, at least, Ducky felt it would be better for everyone if he got approval. He didn't want to overstep any authority he might have.

"In answer to your question," he said, realizing he actually hadn't answered it. "How would four weeks from now, the beginning of the second week of February, be?"

Jethro looked a little surprised. "That quick?" he asked.

"Well, if that isn't -"

"Oh, it is, Ducky. It is. More than okay. I was just a bit surprised you could get everything sorted so soon."

"When you have worked in education for the number of years I have and been used to living your life around school terms and indeed living in a House Master's accommodation, it is fairly easy to arrange your life quite quickly. Yes, I think that will work very well indeed."

"That's settled then. I'll make sure the apartment has been properly and thoroughly cleaned and get fresh linen and everything else I need to do at this end."

"Thank you. Well," Ducky sat forward. "I think it is time that I said goodnight and left you to enjoy the rest of your evening. Thank you for your hospitality, it was very kind of you and very pleasant too. You have a lovely daughter, and I know I really am going to enjoy tutoring her. So thank you once more for the offer of the position." Ducky stood up.

Jethro also rose. He seemed about to say something and the look on his face registered a faint hint of amusement or bemusement. But in the end, he appeared to change his mind and instead said, "The pleasure was all mine, Duck. You're good company. And I know I couldn't have found a better person to teach Kelly." He held out his hand and Ducky took it. "Until February, he said.

Ducky smiled. "Yes. I shall of course let you know, nearer the time, more details of when I'll be arriving."

"You do that. I'll show you out and I can give you the folder of all that wonderful legal stuff you'll enjoy reading." Jethro smiled, bent to pick up the alarm he'd put on the table and dropped it into his pocket and escorted Ducky to the front door. "Hang on," he said, about to open it. "How are you getting to your hotel?"

"I was going to walk to the main road and get a taxi," Ducky said firmly.

"Oh, you were, were you?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"Duck. This is a nice area, make that a very nice area, but even so. I don't recommend walking about in a place you don't know in the dark and cold. Come on, I'll call you a cab."

"But really it's . . ." Ducky trailed off under the stern stare. "Thank you," he said instead. "I would appreciate that."

CHAPTER FIVE

Jethro was in the sitting room, enjoying a glass of bourbon, half watching a TV show half reading a report when the doorbell rang. He glanced at this watch and frowned - it was late for someone to be just dropping by, and he wasn't expecting anyone.

Putting the file down and muting the TV, he went out into the hall, turned the outside light on and opened the door. "Duck?" he said, surprised to see Kelly's would-be tutor standing on the doorstep. "Is something wrong?"

Ducky made a gesture that could have been both a 'yes' and a 'no'. "There is something I believe I should tell you," he said, his tone even more formal than it had been during his interview.

"Come in." Jethro opened the door further and stood back to allow Ducky to enter. "Here, let me take those for you," he said, holding out his hand to take Ducky's hat and coat.

For a moment he thought Ducky was going to refuse, but then he removed his coat and handed it and his hat to Jethro. "Thank you," he said, his tone still very formal.

"Come on through and have a drink." Jethro gestured in the direction of his sitting room and when Ducky didn't move, put his hand under Ducky's elbow and encouraged him. "Well sit down," he said, when Ducky simply stood inside the room. "The same as you had last night okay?"

"What? Oh, yes. Thank you. Although I am not certain if - Oh, thank you." Ducky took the glass Jethro handed him.

"Ducky, sit down," Jethro repeated.

"Thank you." Again it took a moment or two for Ducky to do so, but then he slowly sat down in one of the armchairs, sitting on the very edge with his back ramrod straight.

Jethro waited until Ducky had sat before he did the same. "Ducky, what's up?" he asked, after the silence had stretched between them. "Have you changed your mind about the job?"

Ducky glanced at him and then looked away again. "I haven't, no," he said quietly.

More than a little puzzled by the choice of words, Jethro sat back in his chair and sipped his drink and simply stared at Ducky. "Well?" he said, after another period of silence. "You said there's something you believe I should know. And as I'm not into mind-reading, I guess you'd better tell me. But sit back, Duck, and enjoy your drink. It can't be that awful." He smiled at Ducky.

"What the -" The next second he was on his feet, across the room and was crouching down in front of his guest who, at Jethro's words, had turned ashen and had slumped forward, his shoulders and hands shaking. Jethro put his hand over Ducky's, closing it around the glass he held and guided it to Ducky's mouth. "Drink," he made the order a gentle one, but a firm one. "Ducky, what is it? What's happened? Are you ill? Has someone done something to you? Because if they have, I'll -"

 

"No. It is nothing like that. I am sorry, Mr. Gibbs. I -" Ducky stopped speaking abruptly and closed his eyes. Jethro watched him regain his composure, watched him mentally stop himself from shaking, watched as he once again drew himself upright.

When Ducky opened his eyes again the gaze was, for the first time since Jethro had met him, closed and it had darkened. As Jethro looked into Ducky's eyes, he was suddenly aware that he was still squatting on the floor, still in effect holding Ducky's hand. Slowly, nonchalantly, he took his hand away and stood up, but he didn't move away from Ducky until it became clear that Ducky wasn't suddenly going to jump to his feet and bolt from the room, or indeed collapse under his gaze.

Once he was reassured of both facts, he returned to his own chair, picked his glass up and sat back down. This time he waited, he'd go on waiting all night if he had to, for Ducky to speak.

After another couple of minutes of silence, Ducky looked directly at him. "I must apologize for my behavior, Mr. Gibbs," he said, still in the extremely formal tone.

Jethro shrugged. "Nothing to apologize for, Duck. Just tell me what it is you came to tell me. And drop the Mr. Gibbs, okay?" He made the last part of his words light-hearted, and was pleased to see that Ducky managed a hint of a hint of a hint of a faint smile and a minute nod.

"I am afraid I lied to you yesterday." Jethro said nothing. He just waited, sipping his drink and keeping his gaze on Ducky. "It concerns my," Ducky broke off and Jethro watched him take a sip of his own drink and then lick his lips. "It concerns the man who had been my lover. I told you he was dead. That is not strictly true."

"Either someone's dead or they're not, Duck," Jethro said quietly. "Not sure how you telling me he's dead is 'not strictly true'."

"Of course you are correct." Again Ducky took a sip from his glass. Then under Jethro's gaze he straightened up even more, albeit he remained sitting back in his seat and looked directly at Jethro. "David Gilmore, the man I once called my lover, is in fact still alive in the true sense of the word. He is however dead to me."

"Go on," Jethro said gently.

Ducky ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back and sighed. "We were together for quite a number of years. I was very fond of him; indeed it is fair to say I loved him. I knew he was not, oh, dear, do forgive me, this will sound like a corny romance novel, but nonetheless it is what I feel, what I believe. He was not 'the one', but nevertheless we were good together. We had a good relationship, an honest one, with respect and trust on both sides. At least I thought so." Again Ducky closed his eyes.

Jethro sat forward slightly. "Duck -"

"Please, Jethro, this is difficult for me, but please let me attempt to finish."

"Sure. Sorry. Go on."

"Thank you. As I said we had been together for a number of years. And during that time he had met some of the boys I taught, some of the older boys who were in my house. The Headmaster had always known that I was gay and he had no problems with that fact, and I always ensured he was aware of these meetings. It wasn't that unusual for boys to meet their master's partners or family; not that many actually had families. The life of a schoolmaster is - but more had them, more were married or had partners, than during my own time as a student at Eton. Anyway, one day I discovered that -" Again Ducky broke off and this time when he raised his glass to his lips, he drained it.

"Here," Jethro said, standing up quickly and pouring some more whiskey into Ducky's glass before he could refuse.

"Thank you." Jethro could tell it was only decades of habitual good manners that even made Ducky aware his glass had been refilled and the 'thank you' was automatic. "I discovered that he had been seeing a handful of the upper sixth boys alone. And not just seeing them. He . . . Eton is a curious place in many ways. I am sure you've heard all kinds of stories about English public schools, have you not?"

Jethro shrugged. "A few."

"Well, they are, like most stories, partly factual, partly fictional. Yes, of course there was an element of sexual intimacy amongst the boys - the older boys that is. I cannot lie and say that I never - but that is not the point. The point is they were boys, seventeen, eighteen, it was different. Illegal, I know. But nonetheless . . . David was a grown man, a responsible man, or I so believed. For him to take advantage of his relationship with me, for him to violate the trust I and my Headmaster had in him was nothing short of - He swore, and they swore, that nothing, to use his own term, 'heavy' happened."

"Did you believe him?"

Ducky nodded, shook his head and then nodded again. "I don't know, Jethro. Yes. I think I did. He was contrite and something about him told me he was telling the truth. And the boys, they were frightened, but the fear was far more down to what I and the Headmaster might do, than of what had been done. Yes, I do believe the contact was shall we say mild. But that is not the point. It does not matter, to my mind, if he merely touched them whilst they were fully clothed or whether he had intercourse with them. The point is it was wrong. Utterly and totally wrong and unforgivable. Oh, dear, that must make me sound terrible. Of course there is a huge difference between a touch and intercourse, but -"

"I know what you mean, Duck. Go on. What happened?"

Ducky took another swallow of his drink and sighed. "As far as any police charge might go, nothing. Naturally the Headmaster did not want to make a fuss about it for various reasons, and the boys were adamant that nothing had gone on, and they had no desire for certain things to become known. Most boys who engage in a little homosexual intimacy whilst at public school go on to have wives and families, and live a fully heterosexual life thereafter. So on that front nothing was done - David was told by the Headmaster he would never be welcome at the school again, but apart from that."

"What about you?"

"Me? Oh, for me there was no choice, no question. The relationship was over. He had killed any feeling I might have for him. Killed it completely."

"How did he take it, when you told him?"

Ducky shrugged and shook his head. "He tried to get me to change my mind, but when it became clear nothing on this earth would do that, he gave in and accepted my words. Not that he had any choice but to do so. However, as a consequence we at least parted civilly."

"There's more, isn't there?" Jethro said quietly.

Ducky nodded. "Yes. I am afraid there is. I had some things, books, a change of clothing, toiletries, at his house. The clothing and toiletries didn't matter, but the books did. Two of them were irreplaceable. I still had a key and, with his agreement, I arranged to go around and collect them, whilst he was out. It was during my visit that I came across something I'm certain I was not meant to discover. I wasn't snooping," Ducky added hastily.

"Never thought you were, Duck," Jethro said with complete honesty. "Go on."

"I got the clothing and toiletries and then went to the bookcase to take out the books. For some reason they were tightly wedged in, and to get them out I had to take another book out first. As I did, some papers fell to the floor as well as a smaller book. The book contained photographs of - Oh, dear, God, Jethro, I had no idea. None whatsoever. Had I even . . ." Once again Ducky began to shake slightly.

Unable to simply sit across the room from Ducky and watch the anguish, Jethro again stood up and crossed to where Ducky sat. This time he sat on the arm of the chair and put his arm around Ducky's shoulders. "It's okay, Duck," he said. "You don't have to tell me."

For a moment Ducky leaned against him. But then he pulled back and again straightened. "The book was one thing; the file something else. The only one thing I can say is that at least they were not young boys. Not that that changes anything, but they were at least - God, what am I thinking. He came in whilst I was there and found me looking at them."

"What did he say?"

"He told me they were part of a research project he was doing. He said he'd been asked to write a report on how easily it was to get hold of that kind of pornography. He said it was all part of trying to find a way to help catch pedophiles, and to help understand them. That some at least were genuinely sick."

"Sick covers it well."

"Yes, it does. He swore they were not 'his' in the sense that he had got them for the purposes of getting pleasure from looking at them."

"Did you believe him?"

Ducky shrugged. "He had done that kind of research before. He was good at it. He has published a couple of books that are very hard hitting and of the kind that makes you wonder just - But that's irrelevant. At the time . . . I think I wanted to believe him. Because -"

"He was the man you had at one time loved. The man you'd slept with. The man you'd shared your life with, and you needed something to hold on to to stop you from feeling so awful."

Ducky nodded. "That sums it up fairly well," he said. Again he drained his glass. "May I?"

"Sure." Jethro stood up, snagged the bottle and poured Ducky another healthy measure. This time he sat back down on the couch, at the end nearer to Ducky. "There's still more, isn't there?"

Ducky nodded. "A year after I walked out of his house I found out he'd been arrested for the abduction of two twelve year old boys. Nothing had happened, he was caught before - But it never should have happened. I never should have allowed it to have happen. I should have done something. I never should have let it be brushed under the carpet so to speak. I should have made the Headmaster do something. I should have done something. I should have -"

"There was nothing you could have done, Duck. Trust me, as a lawyer I know what I'm talking about. All you had was circumstantial evidence at best. The boys from your school weren't going to press charges - didn't want to. The book, the file, as you say he'd done that kind of job before. You had nothing. No hard or concrete evidence. There was nothing you nor anyone could have done."

Ducky stared at him as if he didn't believe him. Didn’t want to believe him. "It was that discovery that finally made me decide to leave Eton, to leave Britain. I knew you see that I would never be able to form another relationship whilst I was still teaching there. And as happy with my own company as I am, together with the fact that I do not need a physical relationship to be fulfilled, nor did I want to necessarily spend the next fifteen years alone. So I decided it was time to make a clean break." Ducky swallowed another mouthful of his drink and then put the glass down and stood up. "And now that I have told you, I shall take my leave of you. I apologize most sincerely, Mr. Gibbs, for lying to you and for wasting your time. I do hope you are able to find a tutor for your daughter soon. She will be a pleasure to teach." He turned around.

But Jethro was quicker. He caught his arm and held him firmly in place, using the extra six inches he had on Ducky and his extra strength and twelve fewer years. He turned Ducky until they were face to face. Well not quite, given that Ducky had lowered his head. "Look at me", he said firmly, prepared if necessarily to force Ducky to do that thing.

After a moment's hesitation, Ducky did look up. "Firstly, I have found a tutor for Kelly - his name is Dr. Donald Mallard, but he's known as 'Ducky'. No," he said, as Ducky opened his mouth to protest. "I offered you the job of tutoring Kelly. Nothing, I repeat nothing, Ducky, you have told me tonight changes that."

"But -"

"Hush. And secondly," now it was Jethro's turn for a moment to lower his gaze. He looked back up. "And secondly, I already knew."

He was almost amused at Ducky's reaction. His eyes widened and his mouth parted slightly. He swallowed, closed his mouth, opened it again, no doubt to speak, and then closed it again before finally managing to say something. "But how? Why?"

"The how is easy: I'm a lawyer, Duck. Tracking down information is what I do. You were the one who said you assumed I'd run some kind of background check on the people I interviewed. I didn't answer you directly. But yeah, I did. I have an excellent man who does this kind of thing for a living, who is honest, trustworthy and damn good at his job."

"So you also knew I was gay, before I told you?" Ducky's tone was harder than Jethro had heard it.

He nodded. "Yes. I did."

"Then why did -"

"I interview you? Offer you the job? Make you tell me the story?"

Ducky nodded. "Yes."

"Putting aside the fact that, as I told you when it came up, you being gay didn't matter in the slightest, I interviewed you because on paper and from what I'd learned about you, you were the best person for the job. I offered you the job because after interviewing you I had confirmation that what the pieces of paper told me, including the references, was true. I let you tell me, because let's be honest here, Duck, I didn't ask you to tell me, did I? You came here tonight because you thought I had the right to know."

Ducky nodded briefly. "You are quite right."

"I had no idea what you were going to tell me, Duck. Not until you started. It could have been that . . . Oh, I don't know - anything. But once you'd started, instinct told me to let you go on. Have you ever told anyone the story before?"

Ducky shook his head. "No. And I never thought I would."

"Well, I reckoned you needed to tell it. Not for the reasons you thought you did, because you thought I had a right to know. But for you. I thought you needed some kind of closure, some kind of catharsis. And as you told your story the more sure I was that my instinct was right. Yes, I could have stopped you, and more than once, when I saw how upset you were, I nearly did. But . . . Well, maybe I misjudged it, but I still think I did the right thing."

"I . . ." Ducky shook his head, but it was clear he was not refuting Jethro's words. "But why didn't you . . . ? I mean . . . If you knew, why . . ." Again he trailed off and raised his hands and let them fall in despair.

"If any of that was meant to be why didn't I challenge you, when you said he was dead," Jethro shrugged. "Because I knew that you'd tell me - one day. You're that kind of man. I confess I hadn't expected it to be so quickly, but I knew you would."

Ducky looked up at him. "You did?" The tone of his voice was one of surprise.

Jethro nodded. "Sure did."

"Forgive me, Jethro, but I'm still not certain I understand how you could possibly want me to tutor Kelly, knowing what you know."

"Sit back down, Ducky. You look exhausted and staring up at me must make your neck ache." And to encourage Ducky to 'obey' him, Jethro firmly guided him backward and gently propelled him back down into the chair. "Here," he picked up Ducky's glass that still had some whiskey in it.

"Thank you."

"Well first off, as I said, you were the best person by far. And secondly, it was David Gilmore who did those things, not you. You had nothing to do with it. No," again he prevented Ducky from speaking. "You didn’t. And before you go on again about you should have done something, I repeat there was nothing you could have done. Nothing that would have prevented him snatching those boys. Nothing. Ducky. Nothing. Nada. Nothing. You have to trust me on that."

"I -"

"Good."

Ducky finally managed a half genuine smile. "Why do I get the impression I might be behaving just a little foolishly, even melodramatically?"

"Because you're a good person, Duck. A fair person. A gentleman. You're honest and above all you're trustworthy. Now -"

"May I ask you one question?"

Jethro nodded. "Sure."

"Had Kelly been a boy, would you still have employed me?"

"Yes." Jethro left it at the one single, stark word as anything else would have negated the word, not confirmed it. "Now," he said, after another moment of silence during which Ducky's gaze never left his face. "We are going to sit here and finish our drinks and we're going to talk about the weather or whatever it is you Brits always like to talk about for a few minutes. I will then call you a cab to take you back to your hotel and you'll go back home, sort out whatever it is you have to sort out before coming back here and taking up your new position. Do you understand, Dr. Mallard?"

This time the smile was more than a half one. "Yes, Mr. Gibbs," he said quietly. "Yes, I do."

"Good. And when you come back, you can tell me I was right."

"Right?"

Jethro nodded. "Mmmm. About you feeling better for finally having told someone." He tried, he tried hard, he tried very hard not to laugh as Ducky's mouth again fell open.

CHAPTER SIX: FEBRUARY 1992

Ducky sat in the very comfortable passenger seat of Jethro's car. He had tried to argue that it was unnecessary for his employer to take time away from work to collect him from the airport, but Jethro had been relentless. And in the end Ducky had stopped arguing and instead thanked him.

As they drove along the motor- 'freeway' he reminded himself - he looked out of the window. He still found it rather odd and a tad disconcerting to be sitting on this side of the car without a steering wheel to hold onto as well as driving on the wrong side of the road.

He'd been a little taken aback when his companion had put his arms around him and pulled him into a brief hug at the airport, and it had taken him a second or two to respond. And when he had done, he must have seemed quite awkward and stilted, because a second or two later, Jethro had broken away and apologized, holding out his hand for Ducky to shake instead. Jethro had muttered something about not intending to make Ducky feel awkward and forgetting for the moment the British reserve.

As they drove along, Ducky reflected that it wasn't that Jethro had made him feel awkward, or the British reserve, it was that Jethro had - He stopped that thought, just as he'd stopped all similar thoughts that had come into his mind during the weeks he'd been back in England and Scotland getting ready for his new life. Suddenly he wondered if accepting the job had been such a wise idea after all.

He shook himself; heavens what was he thinking? He wasn't a teenager; he was a mature man of fifty. He could control any urges he might have, push away any desires or designs he might have for or on the man he sat next to. Of course he could. Anyway, he'd soon be far too busy to think about his employer in any terms other than an employer. And it wasn't as if he'd see a great deal of Jethro. Was it?

"Penny for them?"

"I'm sorry?"

Jethro took his eyes of the road and glanced towards Ducky. "Just wondered what you were thinking. You've been quiet since we left the airport. No regrets, I hope?"

Ducky shook his head and wondered just when Jethro would return his attention to the road. Fortunately for his sense of well-being, Jethro did that very thing. "No, not at all. I was just musing on how odd it felt to be sitting on this side of the car without a steering wheel and pedals, and also how slightly disconcerting it was to be on the 'wrong' side of the road." He wasn't lying; he had been thinking those things.

Jethro laughed. "Yeah, guess it must seem a bit odd. You'll get used to it." Again he glanced at Ducky.

"I'm sure I shall."

"By the way, I'd better 'warn' you as I don't know how you are with surprises, but Kelly's put together a 'welcome banner' and organized a welcome dinner for you. She sorted it out with Mrs. Stewart, planned the menu and everything. I did check with Amy though, it's not pizza, jelly and ice-cream." Jethro smiled.

Ducky blinked. "Oh, how kind of her. But she shouldn't have gone to any trouble."

"Wasn't any trouble. Gave her something to do. I'm afraid her school work has slipped a bit as I decided not to bother to try to find someone to fill in for the few weeks. I didn't want Kelly to have to get used to another teacher. Also, because I didn't want her to spend a few weeks with you and then have her schooling interrupted again Shannon and Jenn agreed to Kelly visiting them at a different time. And I took the opportunity to say we might be revising the whole visiting schedule anyway. I know I said they'd be pretty flexible, but forewarned and all that. So between that and celebrating her birthday, she hadn't really done much work. But she's been doing a lot of reading - she's written you lots of book reports, and has put together a pile of books she thinks you should read. She decided that as they were American books you might not have read them. You don't have to." Again he glanced at Ducky.

"I actually think it will be a good idea to get a general feel for the books Kelly is reading and for the standard of literature here."

"Hmmm, not too sure I'd call some of them 'literature' as such, but Kell likes them."

"Talking of books, do you have any, how shall I put it? Taboo books? Anything you would rather she didn't read?"

Once again Jethro took his eyes off the road. Given that at the moment he was over-taking another car, Ducky couldn't prevent himself from gasping aloud and grabbing the dashboard. Instantly Jethro was contrite. "Sorry, Duck," he said, turning his attention back to the road, as far as looking went, he did, however, then take one hand off the steering wheel and squeezed Ducky's arm. "I am a safe driver," he said. "Really I am. I don't take risks. I know it might seem like I do, but . . ." He shrugged. "Sorry," he repeated.

"That's quite all right. I apologize for over-reacting." Although to be honest despite the words, Ducky didn't really feel he had been.

"Given you've never been in a car with me before, you weren't. Really. You were asking about 'taboo' books. Not sure I know what you mean."

"Well I understand your country has a list of banned books."

"Ah, I see. Yeah, we do. Mostly because they contain sex. We're not good on sex, you know."

Ducky glanced at Jethro and raised his eyebrows. "Forgive me, but I find that rather difficult to believe."

Jethro laughed. "Yeah, me too. And I live here. But somehow in books it often isn't considered 'right'. Don't ask me why," he shrugged. "I hate to sound as if I'm passing the buck, but really as long as you're happy with what she's reading I am."

Ducky sighed to himself. As much as he appreciated the free reign his employer was giving him, he would also have liked a little more in the way of guidelines. It was all very well Jethro saying he didn't mind, but Ducky didn't know him well enough to know if that was genuine or just the kind of thing one said. He already knew Jethro to be a good, caring parent - you could tell that in Kelly's behavior, but even so. Oh, well, he guessed he could learn a lot from seeing more of Kelly's books and talking to her. He wondered if she had read To Kill A Mockingbird, given the similarities between the protagonist in the book and Kelly herself, she might enjoy it. Although given the somewhat dark themes of rape and racial inequality, he thought maybe he should wait a while and get to know Kelly and her father more before introducing it to her.

"What else has she been doing in the last few weeks?"

"Bits and pieces really. She's written a few stories, I've sat down with her for an hour or so in the evening and gone through some math and history with her and stuff like that, but it's been rather hit and miss, I'm afraid. And she's been bored - I can always tell when she's bored as she decides she doesn't like her bedroom the way it is or any of her clothes."

"Oh, dear."

Jethro shrugged. "It hasn't been too bad. She's a good kid really, can entertain herself a lot. Oh, and she did do some 'sorting out' in your apartment."

"Sorting out?"

"Hmmm. Got me rearranging furniture and kitchen stuff."

"Oh, dear," Ducky repeated. "I should have sent her some work. But I didn't like to in case -"

"It wasn't a problem. The place needed sorting out. Oh, and in case that British reserve is wondering whether I mind her planning dinner for you, I don't. I'd fully intended to ask you to join us. She just beat me to it."

"There was no need -"

"Yeah, there was. Your first proper night here in a new job, a new home, with new people - the last thing you needed to do was cook for yourself. Besides, it makes a bit easier for Mrs. Stewart."

"Easier?"

"Yeah. Remember I told you - Oh, hell. Hang on." Jethro pulled out his cell phone that had begun to burble and flipped it open. "Jethro Gibbs? Oh, hey, Grace . . . . . . What . . . . . ? They can't do that . . . . . . Yeah, yeah, I know. I know. It's not your fault . . . . . . About half an hour, maybe three quarters . . . . . . Yes, I will. I've already scared him half to death, I'll take care . . . . . . I will. I promise. You call Wilson and tell him to be in my office in an hour . . . . . . Tell him I don't care. It's his screw up; he's going to help sort it out . . . . . . Yes, you can quote me. See you shortly," and he flipped the phone off. "Sorry about that. Slight change of plan, I'm afraid. Something's come up at work, I'm going to have to drop you off at home and get straight to the office. You don't mind, do you? I'll let you in and tell Kell and well . . . I'm sure Kelly will look after you."

"That's perfectly fine, Jethro. I quite understand."

Jethro again turned towards Ducky and frowned. "It's not fine, actually. It's damned bad timing and not exactly good manners. But I really can't do anything about it. I have to go to the office." Then with a half nod, he turned back to the road and in seconds Ducky felt the speed increase.

Several minutes later they pulled up outside the place that Ducky would be calling home for the next decade - at least he hoped he would. Jethro got out, went to the boot - trunk - and pulled Ducky's cases out, leaving Ducky to grab the bag he'd carried onto the plane and his briefcase.

Ducky followed Jethro to the front door of the single storey house and was ushered inside. "Kell," Jethro called. "Kelly!"

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" Kelly cried running down the hallway. She came to a stop and smiled. "Hello, Dr. Mallard," she said. "I'm glad you're finally here."
 

"Hello, Kelly. I am too."

"I'll go and tell Mrs. Stewart to put the kettle on," Kelly called over her shoulder.

"Kell, come here," Jethro called, stopping her.

"Yes, Daddy?" she ran back to him.

"I'm sorry, honey, but I have to go back to the office. Something has come up."

"Oh, but, Daddy. I -"

"I know, pumpkin. But I have to. So it's up to you to look after Dr. Mallard. Will you do that for me?"

"Of course, Daddy. I'll -"

"And don't forget, Kell, he's come all the way from Britain. He's tired, so no dragging him off to the school room today. No book lists. Or book reports or essays. Okay? Make sure he has a cup of tea, and then take him to his apartment and let him settle in. Okay, Kelly? Promise me?"

"But, Daddy. What about the -"

"Kelly!"

"Yes, Daddy. I promise. "No school work. Tea. Apartment. Settle in. Daddy has told you you're having dinner with us, hasn't he, Dr. Mallard?"

Before Ducky could reply, Jethro did so. "Yes, honey, I did and he is. Although I reckon 'ask' is a better word then 'tell', and if you don't know why, ask Dr. Mallard. Now give me a kiss. There's a good girl." And with those words he ruffled her hair, flashed a smile at Ducky and strode out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

Ducky looked down at the young girl with whom he'd shortly be spending a large proportion of each day and watched her carefully without making it obvious he was doing so. It would be the first time they'd been alone, and while she had seemed to genuinely take to him and chattered away to him upon their first meeting, her father had been present all the time. Now he'd gone and Ducky wondered just how Kelly would behave and handle the situation.

"It really is very bad of Daddy to go back to work," she said looking up at Ducky.

"He couldn't help it, Kelly," he said gently. "I know he didn't want to."

She sighed and frowned. "Daddy works too hard. I worry about him at times." She sounded so formal, so old for her age that Ducky found himself smiling. Then the frown faded and the sunny smile that seemed to be her almost normal look reappeared. "Let's go and have tea," she said. And to Ducky's surprise, she put her hand in his and led him along the hall and into the sitting room. "You sit down and I'll go and tell Mrs. Stewart to put the kettle on."

"Thank you, Kelly. That would be very nice. But remember what your father said about 'asking' and 'telling'? It would be more polite if you asked Mrs. Stewart rather than told her." He spoke gently, but firmly and watched her.

She frowned and put her head on one side and he saw her considering his words. As with the first meeting, he knew she would be a challenging, but in a good way, student, who was not always just going to accept everything she was told without wanting to know the reason. "Okay," she said, after another second or two's quiet contemplation. "I'll ask Mrs. Stewart," and again she smiled her sunny smile and ran off.

Kelly was very solicitous during tea, she kept inquiring if every thing was okay, was the tea hot enough, the chair comfortable enough, the biscuits the right kind, and she stared at Ducky the entire time. Her eyes were very like her father's as far as intensity and color went and she, like Jethro, seemed able to see beyond Ducky's skin to inside him. It was rather daunting to be the focus of an eight year old girl, yet at the same time he also found it soothing.

He wasn't quite sure what he'd been expecting from her, behavior-wise or conversation-wise once her father had left them, but to all intents and purposes Kelly behaved exactly as she had done when her father had been present. It didn't take Ducky long to realize just how much Kelly idolized, wouldn't be too strong a word, her father, as it showed in the way she constantly talked about him and how her eyes lit up when she did so.

She also mentioned her mother from time to time too, telling Ducky about her house and how it was smaller than this one and how she enjoyed her visits to Mommy and Auntie Jenny. Nonetheless, Ducky got the impression that although Kelly clearly loved her mother very much, it wasn't in quite the same way as she loved her father.

In all his years of teaching and interacting with children he had tended to find that most children did have a favorite parent and although it was often the subject of psychological debates and stories, it often was that daughters preferred their fathers and sons their mothers. And in Kelly's case there was the added fact that she lived with her father and visited her mother. Plus, no matter how well Jethro and Shannon had handled things, no matter how adjusted Kelly was, there was no getting over the fact Shannon had walked out on her husband and daughter - that alone was bound to have some effect on Kelly's affections for her mother.

"Did Daddy tell you that I visited Mommy and Auntie Jenny while you were back in Britain?" Kelly asked, sipping a glass of milk.

Ducky nodded. "Yes, he did."

"Have you remembered what you told me you'd teach me first?" Ducky blinked and quickly thought back through the conversation they'd had. However, before he could say anything, Kelly went on. "It doesn't matter if you didn’t, because I did. I wrote it down."

"Did you now?"

She nodded. "Yes. I write a lot of things down. Shall I fetch my notebook and show you?"

"Well -"

"Oh," she put her hands over her mouth. "But I'm not allowed to. Daddy told me 'no school work'. So we'll have to do something else instead. Do you play cards?"

Ducky nodded. "Yes, I do."

"We could play. Except Daddy said you need to get settled." She sighed and crossed her arms as she continued to stare at Ducky.

"I tell you what, Kelly. You take me through to the apartment, I'll unpack a few things and get partly settled, then I'll come back here and we can play a game of cards."

She beamed at him. "I'd like that. Shall we go now?"

"Very well."

"Dr. Mallard?"

"Yes, Kelly?"

"Are you married?"

A little taken aback by the sudden change of subject Ducky nonetheless answered. "No, Kelly. I am not."

She nodded. "I didn't think you could be. I told Jasmine that - she didn’t believe me. She said you had to be married because all grown-ups are married. Jasmine isn't very clever," Kelly added. "I like her, but she can't even do her buttons up the right way and she still wets the bed and her panties." Kelly wrinkled her nose at that. "Only naughty children still wet themselves and the bed, don't they, Dr. Mallard?"

"Well. That isn't necessarily the case, Kelly. Some children have more difficulty than others for various reasons. Is Jasmine the same age as you?"

Kelly nodded. "Yes." Then she frowned and added. "At least she is in years. She's eight, like me, I became eight when you weren't here. I would have liked you to have been here, you could have come to my party. Maddie and Emily were there and Daddy and Uncle Tobias and Katie - she's a few years older than me. You won't meet her as her Daddy and Mommy have moved away," she sounded a little sad. But then her tone changed as she asked, "Would you have liked to have come to my party, Dr. Mallard?"

Ducky smiled. "Yes, I would have, Kelly."

She looked at him and put her head on one side. "When I'm nine, next year, I'll have another party and you can come then." She spoke decisively.

"Wasn't Jasmine at your party?" Ducky asked, curious about this other friend of Kelly's.

Kelly shook her head. "No. Her mommy won't let her go to parties."

"Really? And why is that?"

Kelly again put her head on one side and looked at him. "I don't know. Daddy said groups of people aren't a good idea. But I'm glad she didn't come."

"Why is that, Kelly? I thought you said you liked her."

Kelly nodded. "I do. But when she came here last time she peed all over my bed and Daddy had to buy me a new quilt and cover and I didn't like that. I go to her house and see her. It's better. Daddy says she's sick and I should be understanding, but I don't want someone peeing on my things." She spoke defiantly and looked at Ducky as if daring him to argue.

He decided tact was the best thing and instead asked her, "Why didn't you think I could be married?" He was interested in what her reasoning might be.

She rolled her eyes as she looked at him. "Because you're coming to live here with me and Daddy and you wouldn't do that if you had a wife and children, would you?" Ah, yes, the precocious child Jethro warned Ducky his daughter could be was suddenly evident.

But Ducky approved of her reasoning. "Very good, Kelly," he said. "And you are quite correct. However, you should say 'Daddy and me' not 'me and Daddy' and I am not actually living with you, am I?"

She giggled at that. "Have you ever been married?" she suddenly demanded.

Ducky shook his head. "No, I haven't."

"Why not?"

For a moment Ducky was silent. Lying to a child had never been something he did, nor did he often ignore a direct question, but he could hardly answer her question honestly - not even though her mother lived with another woman. So he fell back on the old adage, hoping it would at least placate Kelly. "It may be a cliché, Kelly, but I have never met the right person," he said.

She frowned and continued to stare at him. As she opened her mouth he wondered what her next question might be. He was rather relieved it was simply, "What's a cliché, Dr. Mallard?"

Ten minutes later Kelly seemed satisfied with the explanation and had declared it was time she took Ducky to his apartment. She put the cup and saucer and the glass she'd had her milk in back on the tray together with the plates they'd had for the biscuits and was about to pick it up.

Fearing for the china, which was, Ducky had to admit, balanced a little precariously, Ducky stopped her. "Why don't you let me carry that, Kelly?" he said. "It does look a little heavy."

She looked at him. "Daddy said I was to look after you," she said.

"And you have done that, Kelly. You've done it very well indeed."

"Have I?" she beamed.

"Yes," he said, balancing the tray and smiling at her. "Now if you open the door for me and show me where the kitchen in, that would be very helpful."

"Okay," she said, running ahead of him. "I've made something for you can I show it to you. Oh, no, I can't, Daddy said I wasn't to take you into the school room," she sighed in an exaggerated fashion. "Oh, well, I guess it will still be there tomorrow. It's a pity because it won't be the same because you arrived today not tomorrow. Do you think Daddy would mind really? It's not work," she gazed up at him.

Ducky sought for a way out of the situation that would favor neither father nor daughter and not cause Kelly to break her promise to her father. He didn't yet know Jethro well enough to be able to judge if Kelly simply showing him the banner Jethro had told him she'd made for him would be enough to break her promise or not. He had seen enough of father and daughter interaction to know that Jethro indulged his daughter but had a line over which she wasn't allowed to cross. He also knew children enough to know that Kelly would push that line ever so gently from time to time just to see how far she could go. He got the impression that Jethro was an indulgent parent but a firm one - a good balance. But this question was a little too soon for him to know if a straight 'yes' or 'no' was advisable.

Again he fell back on what the British do so very well: compromise. "Well, Kelly, your father was very precise in what he said, and whilst I agree that showing me something does not equate to school work, as he also told you not to take me to school room, then I believe that doing so would, to your father, be breaking your word. However, why do we not wait for him to come home and you can ask him if you can show it to me?"

She frowned, sighed and then nodded. "Okay, Dr. Mallard. The kitchen is here." She opened the door. "Hello, Mrs. Stewart," she called, bouncing inside. "This is Dr. Mallard, he's going to be teaching me."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Dr. Mallard." Mrs. Stewart came towards him and took the tray from his hands. "Here let me take that for you."

"Thank you. And thank you for tea, it was very refreshing, and if I'm not mistaken those biscuits were homemade, were they not?"

She smiled and flushed slightly. "They were indeed, sir," she said. "They were one of the recipes my grandmother passed down to me. I do hope you'll be happy here, I know Mr. Gibbs will be pleased to finally have a permanent tutor for Miss Kelly."

"Thank you. I have every reason to believe I shall be. Now, Kelly, you were going to take me through to the apartment," Ducky said, aware that Mrs. Stewart wanted to be left alone to get on with the cooking she'd been in the middle of doing when they'd interrupted her. "It was very nice to meet you, Mrs. Stewart." She smiled at him.

As Kelly led him through from the main house to the apartment she was suddenly very quiet, quieter than he'd known her to be. "Is something the matter, Kelly," he asked.

She shook her head and then nodded. "Kind of."

"Do you want to tell me what it is?"

She shrugged and then nodded. "Dr. Mallard?"

"Yes, Kelly."

"You won't tell Daddy how horrid I was about Jasmine, will you? I know it was wrong of me to say I didn't want her here. I know she can't help wetting herself. I know she can't help it because she can't do up her buttons. I know I should be kinder to her, but - " She broke off and stared up at him. "But I keep my things nice and I don't want other people messing on them. Is that very wrong?"

Ducky shook his head. "No, Kelly, it isn't wrong. Of course it's right to want to keep your things nice. But as you say, Jasmine can't help it. Maybe the next time she comes here you should play somewhere where it wouldn't matter so much if she had an accident. Do you think that's a good idea?"

She looked up at him her gaze solemn. "Yes, Dr. Mallard," she said. "I think that's a very good idea. And I am sorry I was so horrid about her. I do like her."

"I know, Kelly," Ducky put his hand on her head. "And as you know you were a little unkind about her, I don't think there is any reason to mention it to anyone else."

Gradually the smile crept back onto her face. "Thank you, Dr. Mallard," she said, taking his hand and squeezing it. "Now I'm going to leave you to unpack and I'm going to choose one of my dolls for Jasmine. She doesn't have many toys; her Mommy doesn't have much money." And with that she turned and ran out of the room.

An hour later Ducky decided he'd done enough unpacking for the day. He looked around the sitting room and felt very much at home, it was odd to think he'd been there for little more than an hour.

He glanced at his watch and decided it was time he kept his promise to play cards with Kelly, so after a short visit to the bathroom he went to the connecting door. There he paused suddenly he wasn't certain he could or should just walk into Jethro's home like that. He knew he'd be going back and forth each day, and he knew he was expected back in the main house, but suddenly he felt he couldn't just waltz in as if owned the place. For a moment he gave serious consideration to actually going outside and ringing the bell and waiting to be let in - but he decided that would be rather too ridiculous.

Just as he was about to return to his sitting room to ponder the matter further to door flew open and Kelly, smiling and looking very pleased herself raced through. "I've solved it, Dr. Mallard," she cried, grabbing his hand and all but dragging him along with her into the main house - at least it resolved the problem of how he was to go back.

"What have you solved, Kelly?"

"This!" she said, flinging open the door to the dining room and pulling him to the table. "There. That's for you." She beamed and bounced on the spot as he looked down at the virulent 'Welcome' banner that lay on the table.

She'd written 'Welcome to my home, Dr. Mallard' in big letters, each one a different color, and underneath that in smaller letters had added 'I hope you'll be happy here'. She'd even signed it: 'Kelly Ann Gibbs - age eight'. And she'd put the date - hence her comment about it not being the same tomorrow.

"Do you like it?" she demanded.

Ducky swallowed hard. To his faint embarrassment he felt a lump in his throat at the obvious time and trouble that had gone into making it. He could see each letter had been written very carefully and were all of just about the same size, and she had taken great care not to go over the lines when she'd colored them in. To be welcomed in the way his charge and her father had welcomed him, warmed him beyond his ability to explain.

He forced himself to speak, hoping his voice didn't sound as shaky or choked up as he feared it might. "It is lovely, Kelly," he said quietly. "It was very kind of you to make it for me."

She smiled even more. "I made it all myself. Well, Daddy cut the paper for me, but other than that, I did it all. Do you really like it?"

He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Yes, Kelly, I really do."

"Good," she said, twirling round on the spot. "And now you can play cards with me," and taking his hand she again dragged him from the room and into a room he hadn't seen before. "This is my playroom," she said. "And next time Jasmine comes to play we can play in here, because it won't matter if she pees on the floor, because it's easy to clean. And even that chair, she nodded to one of the chairs, is plastic. But you can sit on this one," she pulled him over to a comfortable looking, albeit lower than he would have liked chair.

And for the next half an hour they played cards, and Kelly chattered away barely pausing for breath. Ducky let her and as he listened to her he leaned more about the young girl whose education he was now to be in charge off.

"That's Daddy," Kelly sudden cried, flinging down her cards, leaping up and racing from the room. "Daddy! Daddy!" Ducky heard her cry as more slowly and using the fortunately very stable table to assist him he stood up and followed the direction of Kelly's high pitched voice.

"Dr. Mallard had tea and I showed him the apartment and let him get sorted and then we played card and he loves his banner. He really likes it, Daddy."

Jethro paused in the process of taking of his coat and frowned down at his daughter. "Kelly, you promised me you wouldn't take Dr. Mallard into the school room," he said, his tone hard.

"But I didn't, Daddy. I didn't. Did I, Dr. Mallard?"

Ducky came up to where father and daughter stood. "No, Jethro," he said quietly, looking at the sterner than he'd seen it before countenance. "I assure you she didn’t. Your daughter solved her dilemma in a very clever way."

"Go on."

"I was going to wait for you to come home and ask you if I could just show Dr. Mallard the banner. I wanted him to see it today because today is today and tomorrow is tomorrow and it wouldn't have been the same. But then I had an idea." She stopped speaking and smiled sunnily.

"Oh, you did, did you?" Jethro asked, returning to taking his coat off.

She nodded vigorously. "Yes. I took the banner from the school room, put it in the dining room and showed it to Dr. Mallard there. See, Daddy. I didn’t break my promise." And then she added, her voice suddenly quiet and heavy with concern. "Did I?" She looked from her father to Ducky and back again.

Ducky decided it was up to Jethro to answer the question and just waited. He was pleased when the corners of Jethro's mouth turned up and Jethro bent down and kissed his daughter. "No, pumpkin," he said. "I guess you didn't at that."

Later Ducky sat, along with Jethro, in Jethro's sitting room on his very comfortable sofa, sipping a fairly reasonable whiskey. Dinner had again been an extremely good meal; Mrs. Stewart was an excellent cook and although, as Jethro had told him, she normally prepared and cooked things, leaving them for Jethro to heat up or pop under the grill, she had stayed and served the first and main courses before leaving for the evening.

Jethro had said that Kelly had chosen the meal herself, but Ducky wondered if Mrs. Stewart had maybe made a few gentle suggestions here and there. Kelly had, as before, chattered away happily, dividing her attention between her father and Ducky himself, she really did seem a very well adjusted child and a happy one. Ducky had been amused when on a couple of occasions she'd mentioned something to do with school, she'd instantly put her hand over her mouth said 'ooops' or something similar and had gone on to a different subject.

Ducky observed Jethro's interactions with Kelly noticing that unlike so many parents he tended not to talk down to her or to alter his words or speech to accommodate her. He spoke to her as if she was a 'normal' person not a child of eight. It was clear she didn’t necessarily understand everything, but nonetheless he approved.

He had also found himself the object of Jethro's attention too, the steady dark gaze had come to rest on him on more than one occasion and Jethro spoke directly to him even more than he spoke to his daughter.

It was very pleasant to sit here, like this, with a man he already liked and hoped to become friends with, in such peaceful and comfortable surroundings - he could get used it very easily. But he mustn't allow himself too - not that he expected to be invited to dinner and to stay for a drink afterwards on a regular basis.

"So no regrets?" Jethro said, turning his steady gaze onto Ducky.

Ducky frowned a little. "In what way?"

"About coming here to be Kell's tutor."

Ducky shook his head. "No, why do you ask?"

Jethro shrugged. "Just wondered if you really knew, until this afternoon, what you were letting yourself in for."

Ducky laughed softly. "Ah, yes. That was very clever of her to figure out how to," he paused for a moment to consider his words.

"Get her own way?"

Ducky smiled. "I was trying to find a more subtle way of phrasing it, but essentially that is correct, yes. Between that and not breaking her promise to you, I thought her solution was very ingenious."

"Yeah. That's my Kelly. I reckon you and she are going to get along very well."

"Oh," said Ducky. "I am sure of it." He smiled.

"As are you and I," Jethro said, his voice quiet. "Yes, we're going to get along very well indeed."

Held captive by a gaze he could no longer read, Ducky just smiled and nodded before sipping his drink.

CHAPTER SEVEN

After a not very good night's sleep, Ducky awoke early and decided that it would be fortuitous for him to check out the school room before his charge arrived. So after showering and other such important morning things, he had a quick breakfast of tea and toast and made his way, still a little apprehensively, through the connecting door and found his way to the school room.

He hadn't really got a specific lesson plan in mind for the first few days. He wanted to simply get a feel for Kelly, for her intelligence, for her abilities and for what she liked and disliked. He had read various reports on her and Jethro had shared his opinions about things that he'd noticed, but Ducky preferred really to formulate his own opinions. A piece of paper saying 'reading age above average; understanding of basic math not good' was, to his mind, not a great deal of help.

He opened the door, went inside and came to a dead stop as he stared around the room. There was a blackboard with several boxes of chalk piled next to it, a white board with several boxes of marker pens next to it, a flip chart and more relevant pens, an overheard projector and a small photocopier. Also, neat piles of binders, folders, paper (white, colored, lined, squared, graph) cardboard (of varying colors and sizes), notebooks (of varying sizes), pens, pencils, colored crayons, felt tip pens, drawing pins, glue, erasers, pencil sharpeners and exercise books. And if that wasn't enough, there was also as all the usual 'office related' stationery, plus a telephone and what looked like a fax machine. Ducky wondered vaguely if the Gibbses had invited the local stationery supplier to supply them with several of everything when they had first set up the room.

One wall alone held nothing but bookcases that stretched from floor to ceiling and even without going close to them Ducky could see they held an array of text books on just about every subject under the sun. The other walls held large maps: one of the world; one of America; one of the local state, and one, that looked newer than the others, of the United Kingdom. A window, with blinds, was the focal point of one of the third wall, and finally the wall into which the door was set was pristine and clean. It seemed to be waiting for things to be put on it.

There were several tables and cupboards (Ducky hardly dared to look in those) around the edge of the room, on some of them rested the stationery, others were empty. In the middle of the room itself were two smaller tables each with three chairs set around them, and finally a rather handsome looking antique desk with what Ducky could see from here was a comfortable chair. But it wasn't finally, because Ducky also spied a small fridge and a tray that held tea, coffee, a kettle, several cups, glasses and mugs as well as a sugar bowl and milk jug and a tin of biscuits.

On one of the smaller tables were piles of books and a folder from which Ducky could see peeking various papers. He assumed these were the books Kelly wanted to show him and the book reports she had written.

He just stood and stared, drinking in the amazing set up and supplies. Jethro had told him they had kitted out a school room, but this was beyond anything Ducky had even remotely been expecting.

"Like it?" A quiet voice behind him said.

Ducky jumped and glanced around. "Oh, Jethro," he said, ordering his pulse rate to decrease. "You made me jump."

"Sorry," Jethro touched Ducky's hand. "Heard you come through and I wanted to check that everything was okay. Kell's only just got up. She's got to wash and have breakfast - I made her promise not to rush it and also to make sure she brushes her teeth - before she joins you."

"Oh, that is quite all right. I know I am somewhat early. I just wanted to get a look at and feel for the room before Kelly arrived."

"So it's okay? Do you reckon you've got everything you need?"

"I would say it is far more than just 'okay', Jethro. And I am fairly certain from a cursory glance that I have more than I could possibly need."

"I'll take that as a 'yes' then," Jethro said and smiled.

"I do apologize. Yes, Jethro, everything is perfectly fine."

"Good. Why don't you come and join me for a cup of coffee before you start?"

"That is kind of you. But I had intended to," Ducky paused. Just what had he intended to do? Certainly as far as the room went there was nothing that needed 'doing'. No supplies he needed to check. Then something occurred to him. "I thought you left home for the office long before this time?"

Jethro shrugged. "Normally, yeah. But it didn't seem right with this being your first day. I told Grace I'd be in around lunchtime. I said I'd do some work at home before that. She looked as though I'd told her I was going to elope with the tooth fairy." They both laughed. "So coffee?"

"Well, I -"

"Good." And before Ducky could raise any further objections, he felt himself firmly turned and guided out of the school room, along the hallway and into Jethro's study.

Half an hour later he returned to the school room to find Kelly still not present - it seemed as though she was obeying her father and sticking to her promises. He decided to use the opportunity to look through some of the books Kelly had left for him.

Despite Jethro commenting that Kelly had put out her American author books, he noted several ones that were familiar to him. He was pleased to see Anne Of Green Gables, Heidi and Laura Ingalls Wilder's The Little House On The Prairie. He was interested to see Black Beauty, Jethro had mentioned Kelly loved horses, and Ducky wondered what she had made of the style. Picking up the folder of what were indeed book reports, he flicked through it.

Her handwriting was clear and precise, Ducky thought almost a little too precise and crafted; it almost reminded him of the basic calligraphy his mother had loved so much. Her use of the written word confirmed her use of the spoken word, and he found himself wincing at some of the sloppy phraseology and words, as well as some misusage. He reminded himself she had only just turned eight and she was American, but even so, that was no excuse to use the word 'gotten' - at least not in a formal report.

He did find a report on Black Beauty and found, against his will, himself chuckling softly at her summation. Basically she thought it was a good story, she liked Beauty, although thought it a silly name for a staleon, he corrected the spelling automatically, and had found the writing itself tiring. She'd added that the 'Black Stalleon' (a different black stalion) books were much better, and recommended that Ducky read them. He noted the three different attempts at spelling the word 'Stallion' and commended her for trying, but also made a mental note to introduce her to research and checking. After all, if she had read the Black Stallion books, he assumed she had them, rather than having borrowed them from a library, thus she could have checked the spelling there.

He had, as he'd told Jethro, brought several books over from Britain with him. Some of the long cherished favorites he had brought over were his Arthur Ransome collection of hard back books, all with dust jackets, which he had grown up loving. As much loved as they were, sadly they had sat for far too many years on his bookcases gathering dust. He had known from a very young age that he would never have children onto whom he could pass the collection, and being an only child ruled out nephews and nieces. Kelly loved books, she'd told him so, Jethro had told him so, and he'd seen the array of bookcases not just in her room but all over the house, and even more importantly, he had seen what good care she had taken of them. He chuckled to himself as he still remembered her demanding to know if he turned down the corners of pages. She would give his beloved books a good home, and he was sure she would enjoy the series.

He had also brought with him Tolkien's The Hobbit and Lord Of The Rings, both of which might be a little too advanced for her at the moment. However, he recalled his schoolmaster reading The Hobbit to his class of nine year old boys, and had decided that was how he would introduce the book to Kelly. He had always approved whole-heartedly of children learning to read and being left to read by themselves, but he had also always felt that being read to was also a vital part of learning and communication - especially at Kelly's age.

He was just about to turn his attention to the other pile of books, which from what he could see were Kelly's 'American authors' when the door flew open and Kelly raced into the room. He wondered if she ever walked anywhere, and again had to remind himself she had only just turned eight.

"Good morning, Dr. Mallard," she called sunnily. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting?"

"No, not at all. I was just -"

"I would have been here earlier, but Daddy 'sisted I ate my breakfast." She rolled her eyes.

"And quite right too, Kelly," Ducky said. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

"Is it? Why, Dr. Mallard?" She stared at him eyes wide. Suddenly he had a mental flash of the next ten years being dominated with the words 'why, Dr. Mallard?' and that very look.

He chuckled softly. "We will come to that later, Kelly. For now, why don't you sit down tell me about some of these books?" He gestured towards the pile of books he hadn't yet looked through.

She plonked herself down in one of chairs, grabbed the first book and started to speak. "These are the Ramona books. Ramona is a little girl who is always getting into trouble." She giggled. "She has a big sister called Beezus and in first book she, Ramona, got sent home from kindergarten for pulling another girl's hair." She paused and looked at Ducky. "That was a bad thing to do, wasn't it? But she couldn't help it. Did you ever pull a little girl's hair when you were a little boy?"

Ducky, who had pulled up the, what he could confirm was a, very comfortable chair from behind his desk cast his mind back several decades. "As a matter of fact, Kelly," he said. "I didn’t. I am afraid I was never a particularly naughty child. However, I had my own curls pulled by a little girl."

Her eyes grew wide. "You had curls?" she put her hand to her mouth in what he now knew to be her way of hiding the fact she was giggling.

He nodded. "Yes, longish blond curls; Mother loved them."

"I bet they were very nice," Kelly finally said politely. "Why did the little girl pull them?"

Ducky thought back to the various reasons, it had after all happened more than once, and to the spite on the face of the girl who had done it. However, he decided it was time for a less honest answer. "I believe it was for the same reason as Ramona: she couldn't help it. Do you have a favorite book in the series?"

She put her head on one side and frowned. "I have a favorite title," she said after a short span of silence. "Ramona And Her Father. And I also now really like Ramona Quimby Age Eight, because I am eight."

Ducky smiled at her; he had no need to ask about her favorite title. "Have you read To Kill A Mockingbird?" Even though he intended to mention the book to Jethro before he introduced it to Kelly, he was still interested to learn if she had at the very least heard of it.

Kelly shook her head slowly. "No. I don't think so. Should I?"

"Well the little boy in the book is also eight and his father is a lawyer."

"Like me and Daddy."

"Daddy and I."

"Daddy and I." She bent down and picked up the satchel she'd been carrying when she'd gone into the room and pulled out a notebook and a pen and wrote 'Daddy And I'. "This is my notebook where I write things I want to remember," she said. "Do you have a notebook where you write things you want to remember?"

Ducky nodded. "Oh, yes, Kelly. Several of them."

She beamed. "Good. Shall I tell you about some more books?"

He decided for the moment not to return to the question of To Kill A Mockingbird. "Yes, that would be very nice. And also would you mind if I borrowed a few?" The way her face lit up answered the question. "It would be nice for me to actually get a feel for the books you read. And later I'll show you some books I have brought from Britain for you. I think you'll like them."

Her eyes sparkled. It seemed that 'books' was a magical word in Kelly's world. She grabbed another book and pushed it across the Ducky, the author was Madeleine L'Engle, and from the look of the cover the book was science fiction or fantasy.

"I love The Wrinkle In Time series," Kelly said, now pulling the book back. "It's about a little girl, well she's a bit older than me, and her brother and her mommy going off to find her daddy as he'd been swept away in time. They travel to various worlds and have adventures and - Oh, but I won't tell you anymore as I'll spoil them for you. I have the whole set and lots of her other books as well. You can borrow as many as you like."

"Thank you, Kelly."

"Oh, and these books are very good if you want to learn about history. There are eight girls, plus one from recent times, but I don't like those so much, and they all have several books. You can borrow those too." She pushed over a book entitled Meet Samantha: An American Girl.

"I think Dr. Mallard probably knows his history, Kell." For the second time that day Jethro's voice sounded from the door and made Ducky and, he was rather relived to see, Kelly jump.

"Daddy! What are you doing here? You're interrupting!" Kelly frowned at her father.

Ducky wasn't certain of his role at that moment. Yes, it was during the school day, yes, he was Kelly's tutor and had it been anyone other than her father he would have gently, but firmly chastised her, but as it was her father . . . So instead he looked at Jethro and asked quietly, "Is there anything wrong, Jethro? Is there something you wish me to do?"

Jethro shook his head and held up his hands. "Sorry. I have no right to be here. I told myself I wouldn't interrupt and I'm not checking up on you, so don't think that, I just . . . Actually, truth is I'm not sure what I 'just'. I'll go." And he turned to do that thing.

Ducky glanced at his watch and was surprised to see quite how much time had gone by, it was in fact mid-morning and high time he broke for a short recess. There was a limit to how much information children or indeed adults could take in in one sitting, and although they'd only been talking about books, Kelly's intensity level had been fairly high. "As a matter of fact it is I feel time for a short break. I'm sure Kelly would like the opportunity to stretch her legs and maybe pop to the bathroom and -"

"May I have a glass of milk, please, Dr. Mallard?"

Ducky glanced at Jethro swiftly and received a quick nod. "Yes, Kelly. However, do remember not to interrupt someone when they are talking. It isn't polite."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Mallard," she said. "I'll try not to do it again. May I be excused, please?"

He nodded. "Of course," he rather liked her 'I'll try not to do it again', not a promise never to, just one to try.

"How long is the break?" she asked.

Ducky calculated swiftly, based on what he and Jethro had discussed. Given that she wouldn't be moving from room to room or even having different teachers for different subjects or simply having other children to chat to, her day was going to be slightly longer. He felt that half an hour in the morning and afternoon and an hour for lunch seemed about right. "Shall we say half an hour?" She nodded and ran off. "And in that case, Jethro, may I offer you a cup of tea before you return to your work?"

Jethro laughed. "Point taken, Duck. And yeah, thanks. But make mine coffee."

When Kelly returned Ducky took the opportunity to quiz her a little on 'The American Girls' books. "You said you didn't really care for the 'recent times' books in this series. May I ask why not?"

She looked at him. "Because it's not like that," she said, her tone almost defiant.

"What isn't like what, Kelly?" he asked gently. "Remember, I do not know the books. What are these about?"

"A girl called Julie whose Mommy and Daddy get divorced and it's horrid. And she doesn't want anyone to know. And she wants to play on the basketball team even though it's all boys, which is just silly. It isn't like that!" she repeated.

"Do you mean the divorce and the way her parents are?"

Kelly nodded. "Yes. They aren't like Daddy and Mommy, so I don't like them. They're silly."

Ducky decided the best course was to actually read one of the books before he brought up the subject again. From what little Kelly had said and from witnessing divorced parents of some of the boys at Eton, he felt that Kelly's experience, putting aside the whole 'Mommy left to live with another lady' was rather different from the normal. "I think I'd like to read one of the books, if I may, Kelly," he said.

She looked at him. "But I don't like them."

"Nevertheless, I'd like to read one. Do you have them?"

"I guess."

"Good. Now, I think it's time we talked about something else, don't you? Is there any other books about which you'd particular like to tell me? Let's say just one series and then we'll move onto something else."

"Okay." She thought for a minute then asked, "Can we talk about more books later?"

Ducky nodded. "Of course. Books are one of my favorite pleasures and subject."

"Mine too." Kelly spoke decisively. "In that case I also like mystery books. Do you, Dr. Mallard?"

"I do, Kelly, yes. Do you have a favorite children's author?"

"Hmmm, maybe Joan Lowery Nixon. She writes good stories and you can't always guess who did it. I don't like books where you know who did it at the end of the first chapter. I like to keep guessing. Do you, Dr. Mallard?"

And Ducky suddenly got a second flash forward of this next ten years where: 'Do you, Dr. Mallard?' would be another phrase he heard many times. "Yes, Kelly. Guessing is good. Now, as you mentioned history a little while ago, why don't you tell me some of the key things you have learnt so far in your schooling?"

She put her head on one side. "Learnt?" she asked.

Ducky nodded. "There are several words that our two countries pronounce differently, indeed many that are spelt differently too. When you say 'learned' we say 'learnt' and -"

"'Spelt' and 'spelled'! Oh, I'm sorry, Dr. Mallard, I interrupted you again. But I'm right, aren’t I?"

Ducky sighed softly to himself and hid a smile. "Yes, Kelly, you are indeed correct."
 

CHAPTER EIGHT: MARCH 1992

"This gets silly, Duck."

"What does, Jethro?"

"Me asking you to join us for dinner each night. Why don't we just agree that unless you're really tired of Kelly or me - or both of us - that it's a standing thing?" Jethro stood in the doorway between the main house and Ducky's apartment. He was still dressed for the office, including wearing his overcoat and carrying his briefcase.

Ducky shifted slightly. "I really don't want to intrude, Jethro. I -"

"You're not, okay? Kelly and I like having dinner with you and more than that, it helps Mrs. Stewart."

"Ah, yes," Ducky said, suddenly remembering. "You mentioned that before, on the way back from the airport. You were going to explain the comment, but your assistant called you and you never had the chance."

"You're right. I didn't. I'll tell you later, after dinner, once Kelly's in bed. See you in a bit, Duck." And with that, Jethro turned and strode off down the hall.

Ducky watched him go and sighed to himself. He really shouldn't keep accepting Jethro's invitation to eat with them, and he certainly shouldn't agree to it being an every night thing. Although, now he came to think about it, with very few exceptions - ones he could count on the fingers of one hand - that had indeed been the case since he'd arrived in America.

It wasn't that he didn't like spending time with Jethro and his daughter; he did. He did very much - maybe too much. And it wasn't just dinner, it was after dinner. Jethro always invited Ducky to join him for a drink and somehow Ducky found all of his objections or excuses overturned. Jethro did have a habit of winning every argument - but then he did do that for a living, so maybe Ducky shouldn't be too surprised.

In the first few days as well as finding his feet and getting to grips with the lively mind that belonged to Kelly Ann Gibbs and letting his body adjust to firstly teaching regularly for several hours a day - there was no staff common room to which he could escape - which he hadn't done for the best part of a year and secondly to the time difference, Ducky had been grateful for the invitations. He had found the days more tiring than he'd thought he would, so much so that at one point it gave him serious pause for thought: maybe he shouldn't have taken on such a young child.

He was also aware that as much as he liked the Gibbses, and he did, he felt a little over-whelmed by them. It started to seem that the only time he was alone was when he had to answer a call of nature, and to his shame he found his trips to the loo getting more frequent and taking somewhat longer than was strictly necessary. Kelly was a joy to teach, but she was also a very demanding student, in a good way, but even so.

But it wasn't just Kelly or her mind or the work or the lack of any real time alone that was troubling Ducky and making him question the wisdom of accepting Jethro's constant invitations. It was his growing feelings for his employer.

It had been all very well him telling himself that he wouldn't see that much of Jethro and he was an adult, not to mention the not inconsiderable matter that Jethro was not gay. The fact was all those things aside, Ducky had found himself becoming more and more attracted to Jethro.

In some ways it wasn't that big a thing, Ducky was more than able to control his emotions and feelings and he had no concerns that he might suddenly grab Jethro and kiss him, but he did sometimes find it hard to spend an evening with him. Especially given how attentive Jethro was - and he was attentive - as well as being a fairly tactile man. He seemed to think nothing of putting his hand on Ducky's arm or shoulder or even his thigh, or brushing against him, and the steady dark gaze never seemed to leave Ducky's face.

It was foolish to go on spending evenings like that - why was he putting himself through it all the time? No, tonight would be the last - at least on a regular basis. He would thank Jethro, assure him it was nothing personal, that he enjoyed his meals with Kelly and Jethro himself and appreciated being invited to dinner and to spend time with Jethro thereafter, but really, he would like a few evenings to himself.

And he would stand firm. He would not allow Jethro to talk him round; he would not allow himself to be beaten by a lawyerly argument. He would be polite, of course, and courteous, but he would make it clear he would not be joining the Gibbses on a regular basis.

"I told Mrs. Stewart you'd be joining us for dinner each evening," Jethro said, as he poured a generous amount of whiskey into Ducky's glass.

"Jethro!" Ducky spoke more sharply than he'd intended to. And that was yet another reason why he should stop spending so much time with Jethro; he was starting to not exactly 'forget' but let the lines of their relationship become blurred. It was fair to say he did regard Jethro as a friend, but at the end of the day he was Jethro's employee, and these intimate evenings were not always conducive to him remembering that.

Jethro paused in the process of pouring the drink and looked at Ducky. "What? Is there a problem, Ducky?" He looked so surprised, so concerned, that Ducky found himself hastening to reassure.

"No, of course not, Jethro," he said, touching Jethro's hand - and that was yet another reason. It was one thing Jethro being tactile with Ducky, but Ducky found he was touching Jethro too. Oh, dear, this really wasn't going according to plan.

"Don't you like having dinner with Kell and me?" Jethro finished pouring Ducky's drink, sloshed some into his own glass and sat down opposite Ducky.

"Of course I do." And he did.

"You sure? You're not just saying 'yes' because you feel you have to, are you, Duck?" The look on Jethro's face told Ducky he had only just thought of that. "Because you are . . . If you feel I'm, we're, putting pressure on you, abusing our position, then please say so."

"It is not that at all, Jethro. I enjoy having dinner with you. It's -"

"What about afterwards?" Jethro leaned forward.

"I'm sorry?"

"Like now. You having a drink with me. Don't you want that? Do you feel you have to say 'yes' because of some ingrained belief that I'm your employer?"

"Jethro, you are my employer," Ducky said gently.

"Well, yes, I know that, but - So are you? Is that why you say 'yes' all the time? And is that why you don’t want to eat with us? Have I been putting pressure on you? Have I been making you feel uneasy? Have I -"

Gently Ducky cut off the tirade. "No, Jethro. I assure you I have not felt under pressure or uneasy." It wasn't quite a lie - at least not in the way Jethro meant it.

"Thank God for that. Tobias did wonder, but I told him it was fine. Now I'm worried he was right." The surprise Ducky was feeling at the revelation that Jethro had told his friend about spending time with Ducky must have shown itself as something else, because Jethro hurried on. "Tobias Fornell, my friend and fellow lawyer. I mentioned him to you; at least I'm sure I did. The guy who sorted out Mrs. Abbot's divorce."

"Yes. I remember who he is. I was just . . . It doesn't matter. Please believe me, Jethro, I do enjoy my time with you and with Kelly of course. Really I do. It is very pleasant to spend time with you both."

Jethro sat back in his chair and let out a sigh. "Thank God, for that," he repeated. "So it's okay then? Me telling Mrs. Stewart to make dinner for three and me inviting you to stay for a drink? That's all right?"

"Jethro, I . . ." Ducky trailed off under the dark gaze that was tinged with concern. "Why don't you tell me why it is beneficial for Mrs. Stewart," he said.

"Oh, yeah. I told you her husband is disabled and he can't work, thus the only money they have coming in is what I pay her?"

Ducky nodded. "Yes."

"Well, it's a fairly recent thing. He was involved in an accident which wasn't his fault - I'm still in the midst of trying to sort out some kind of compensation, but in the meantime - Sorry, you don't need to know that. They, like a lot of Americans of their income bracket didn't have medical insurance. It's hellishly expensive and neither of them were the kind of people who got sick, so they took their chances. And then he had the accident."

"I think I understand."

"Yeah. I offered to help them out, to pay the hospital bills. To me they were nothing, God that sound dreadful, but . . . Well, I can make more in one case than they came to. But they're proud people, stubborn too, and wouldn't hear of it."

"I can understand both sides. And if it's any comfort it doesn't sound dreadful, remember I am in the same boat myself."

"Course you are. Anyway, I can at least pay her a damn good salary - she knows it's well above the norm. But she can justify it by the fact that she prepares dinner for us and also that I used the excuse that part of it is some kind of retainer."

"Retainer?"

Jethro nodded. "Yeah. If I need or want to go out in the evening, she'll babysit for me."

"But you don't go out."

Jethro smiled. "I don't. And she knows that, but -"

"The fact is you might have to, and so she can happily tell herself it is okay to have a much higher salary?"

"That's about it. Anyway, the thing is when she prepares dinner she always makes too much," he paused and looked at Ducky.

"She makes enough for four?"

"Yes. And of course we don't waste it. So what's left over -"

"She takes home with her the next evening and they have a good, hot meal that doesn’t cost them anything."

"Exactly! And the extra cost is negligible. In fact Shannon told me more than once that often cooking for five works out cheaper or as cheap as cooking for two or three."

Ducky nodded. "That can be the case, yes. Often why you buy more of something proportionately it is indeed cheaper. In fact not just proportionally but in reality."

"Right." Jethro's look was one of gentle amusement. "So all the time you've been having dinner here, she's simply been cooking for five rather than four. Which of course she would go on doing and again having another person to regularly cook for will make her feel she's doing more, and so -"

"She can continue to justify the larger than average salary you pay her."

"That's right, Dr. Mallard."

Ducky sipped his drink. There was no way he could say 'no' now. And you don't want to, he ignored the small voice. "In that case, I am more than happy for you to tell Mrs. Stewart that I will be dining with you and Kelly each evening. Ah, wait," Ducky said mischievously, "of course you have already done so." He laughed at the look of sudden contrition on Jethro's face.

"Sorry about that, Duck. I should have waited. But she goes shopping for the week tomorrow before she comes here and had asked if you'd be eating with us so that she knew how much to buy and . . . It just kind of came out. Sorry," he repeated.

"It doesn’t matter," Ducky said. "What happens when Kelly goes to visit her mother?"

"Like you, that's when Mrs. Stewart has to take her holidays and before she goes she fills up the freezer for me and leaves me detailed instructions about re-heating. And of course when she makes the meals she always makes sure . . . You get the picture."

Ducky nodded. "I assume she is aware that you are aware of the - shall we say subterfuge?" He had met Amy Stewart several times and knew her to be a very astute and intelligent woman.

Jethro nodded. "Sure she does, yes. It works for both of us. It makes me feel better as I'm actually doing something to help, and it makes her feel okay about it because it isn't charity. So it's a win-win situation."

CHAPTER NINE: APRIL 1992

Ducky was awoken from an extremely pleasant dream, a dream he really should not be having, by the sound of the phone ringing insistently in his ear.

He switched on the bedside lamp and glanced at the clock; it was 3:00 a.m. Instantly he knew that the call was not going to be a good one. No good ever came of a middle of the night phone call. Nonetheless, as he reached for the receiver he allowed himself a second or two's thought or hope, that it was merely his mother, having forgotten the five hour time difference. She always had been an early riser, so for her to ring him at 8:00 a.m. would not be that unusual. However, as he put the receiver to his ear, even before he spoke his name, he knew.

Five minutes later he carefully replaced the receiver, closed his eyes and sighed. "Oh, Mama," he whispered into the dark, but for the single lamp, room, automatically falling back onto the name he hadn't called her for over forty years. "Oh, Mama," he repeated.

Knowing there was no chance of him getting any more sleep that night, and even if he thought he might, there was so much to be done, to be planned, he slid from the bed and padded quietly to the bathroom. There he relieved himself, brushed his teeth and took a shower, staying under the water for a little longer than usual, letting the warm, hard jets cleanse his body and the steam lull him into peace for a short time.

Three quarters of an hour later showered, shaved, hair washed, and dressed he began to pack a case, putting shoes, belts and other heavy objects at the bottom, folding shirts and jumpers automatically, tucking socks and underwear and handkerchief into small places, neatly folding his non-funeral trousers, and finally carefully placing his black suit and tie on top of everything. Then he packed a smaller case of toiletries and books and other documentation he might need in the UK, and finally a small bag he would carry onto to the plane with him. This included the book he was currently reading, two of Kelly's exercise books and his folder of lesson plans.

Then he looked around the room. For a moment, just for a fleeting moment, he regretted his decision to come to America. Regretted his decision to take up the position of tutor to the young Kelly Gibbs. Maybe if he hadn't have gone so far away from home, then maybe . . .

But he pushed that thought from his mind, suddenly annoyed with himself for even thinking it. Of course his presence in the UK, be it with his mother who had been living in their Scottish house at the time of her passing, or in Eton or anywhere else, would not have prevented his mother from having a massive heart attack and dying instantly. And she had been pleased to hear he was happy and settled, and had enjoyed all of the stories he'd shared with her about Kelly.

He did regret that he'd never been able to keep his promise, the one made to both his mother and to Kelly: to take Kelly to the UK to meet his mother. He knew his mother had always known he would never provide her with grandchildren and had also always known that although she did regret that, she respected his choices and didn't love him any the less for them. She would have loved Kelly and Kelly would have been fascinated by Vanessa Mallard. Yes, it was a shame they had never met; Kelly was without living grandparents and so the older woman would have been a delight to her.

But as he let the regret momentarily almost overwhelm him he heard his maternal grandmother's voice in his head. "Regrets, Donald, are futile. What is done is done. What is not done is not done. You cannot change the past. You must not look back and regret."

"Yes, Grandmamma," he murmured.

He looked at the clock. It was now 4:30 a.m. Still too early to do anything useful; he wasn't even certain if it would be possible to arrange a flight at this time of day. Besides, he felt he shouldn't attempt to make arrangements until he had done his employer the courtesy of informing him that he needed to return to the UK for a while.

He tried to settle down to read, but found his mind wandered too much. Then he tried to mark Kelly's latest book review. She had been reading Sarah, Plain and Tall, by Patricia MacLachlan, an author of whom she seemed quite fond. Like several of Kelly's favorite authors Patricia MacLachlan was not one whom Ducky had read - until recently. Maybe some people, other tutors even, would find it strange, but Ducky made certain he read all the books he asked Kelly to review. He felt it only fair that he did that, and he'd certainly widened his, what was already extremely wide, sphere of literature. He smiled to himself as he realized he was doing what he never though he'd do: reading novels aimed at young girls.

But as he looked down at the paper covered with her handwriting and smiled at her latest attempt at trying to impress him with using 'big' words, he found they were just words on the page. He pushed it to one side; it wouldn't be right to grade it now.

He decided to make himself a cup of tea, warming the pot and letting the tea brew for the precise amount of time. Nonetheless, in the end even after drinking it, and he didn't hurry, and washing up the single cup and saucer, emptying the teapot, swilling it out and putting it away and wiping down the already clean work surface, he discovered less than half an hour had passed.

Jethro, he knew, was an early riser. He was always in his study by 6:00 a.m. as he liked to put in up to an hour's work, before having breakfast and leaving for the office. However, he still couldn't go barging into the main house and disturbing Jethro quite this early, even if by any chance he was awake.

Finally, unable to sit doing effectively nothing any longer, at 5:45 a.m. Ducky left his apartment. He went through the connecting door into the main house, walked quietly along the mutedly lit (Jethro was at least up) corridor and tapped on the door to Jethro's study before opening it and going inside.

"Duck?" Jethro came to his feet as Ducky went inside. "Is something up or have you just come to join me for breakfast?"

"I am afraid that I am going to have to ask for a leave of absence," Ducky said, silently cursing himself as the words and his tone sounded so formal.

Now Jethro frowned and he came out from behind his desk and crossed the room to where Ducky still stood. "What's happened, Duck?" he said, his voice low; he put one hand on Ducky's shoulder.

He had moved very close to Ducky, thus forcing Ducky to tilt his head back to look up at him. "I received a telephone call a few hours ago, three to be precise," again he mentally shook himself. "I am afraid that my mother has died. It was very sudden, instant in fact. A massive heart attack; she didn't suffer. She would barely have even been aware of what had happened. I should be, I am of course, glad that she would have known only the briefest moment of pain and that -"

He was silenced by Jethro folding him into an embrace and pulling Ducky close to him. One hand slipped under Ducky's hair, cradling his head and gently pushing it against his shoulder, the other went around his back. As he held him he rocked him gently, just as Ducky had seen him do so many times with Kelly. Then he put his mouth near to Ducky's ear and said softly, "I am so sorry, Duck. So very sorry." His fingers stroked Ducky's head; again the gesture was so familiar, Ducky had seen it many times.

As he let Jethro hold him, as he accepted the comfort he was being given, Ducky's throat tightened and his eyes began to prickle. He wouldn't cry; he must not cry; not here, not like this. He was - But even as he tried to fight them, he felt tears slip from his eyes and travel down his face, getting swept up by the softness of Jethro's cotton shirt.

He wasn't certain how long he was held, rocked, stroked and comforted, nor did he catch many of Jethro's murmured words, but finally he felt able to lift his head from where it rested so naturally, so comfortably and move away a little. As he moved, Jethro let the embrace loosen and finally broke it completely, apart from keeping one hand on one of Ducky's shoulders.

Ducky was about to pull his handkerchief from his trouser pocket when Jethro pushed his own into his hand. "Here," he said gently. Again the gesture was so familiar.

Ducky didn’t object, suddenly he hadn't got the strength to do so. "Thank you," he said, taking the white linen and wiping his face. He decorously blew his nose and folded the handkerchief and, unlike Kelly who usually tended to hand it back to her father, carefully put it into his own pocket. "Please forgive me, Jethro," he said. "I -"

"Hush. Duck. You've just lost your mom. I know what that's like. And I know you British have the whole 'stiff upper lip' thingy, but I know how much you loved her. And don't look at me like that, I know you never came out and told me. But don't forget I'm pretty good at reading people, I saw it in the way you looked and heard it in your voice whenever you spoke about her. It's okay to mourn her, Ducky. It's okay to show you care. It's okay to cry."

Ducky gave a faint smile and nodded. "I know, Jethro. Thank you. I appreciate it."

"What are friends for?" Jethro said, moving his hand from Ducky's shoulder, to the nape of his neck. "Now. When do you need to leave? Have you got a flight booked?"

Ducky shook his head. "I didn't like to do anything until I had told you. Besides, I have to confess I didn't know if it was even possible to book a flight in the middle of the night. I know that sounds foolish and I could I'm sure have found out, but . . . It just didn't seem right to do anything until I had told you. And I'm sorry, I haven't answered your first question."

"Noticed that. Come and sit down for a minute." And with that, Jethro put his arm around Ducky and led him to the sofa he had in his study. Ducky had no choice but to go with him.

Once Ducky had sat down, Jethro moved back to his desk and grabbed his note pad. "Okay, where do you want to fly to and when?" he asked.

"Mother was in our Scottish home, so Aberdeen would be my choice. But if that is not possible, then Glasgow or Edinburgh, I should be able to get an internal flight or hire a car. As for when, if it is not going to cause too many problems for you, I would like to go as soon as possible. Jethro, what are you doing?" he asked suddenly, as Jethro grabbed his phone and pushed some numbers. "Jethro!"

But Jethro silenced him by holding up his hand. "Hey, Grace, sorry to bother you so early. I need you to book a flight, please . . . . . . From here to Aberdeen, preferable straight through, but if not, then with changes or whatever . . . . . . As soon as possible today . . . . . . No, not for me. It's for Ducky. Dr. Donald Mallard . . . . . . His mom died in the night, he has to go home . . . . . . For choice, yeah, but if that'll mean a later flight then whatever you can get . . . . . . Yeah, put it through the firm . . . . . . Yeah, I'll be here. In fact can you cancel my appointments . . . . . . Better be all day. I'll obvious take Ducky to the airport . . . . . . Thanks, Grace." And with that he hung up.

Ducky started to object. "But, Jethro, I can -"

"Yeah, know you can. But as I said what are friends for. Besides, Grace is used to the system, if anyone can get you a decent flight today, it'll be her. Now, you need some breakfast. Come on." And without giving Ducky a chance to speak, he snagged Ducky's hand, pulled him to his feet and led him from the study to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Mr. Jethro, Dr. Mallard." Amy Stewart looked up in surprise as the two men went into the kitchen. "I didn't expect to see you so early. Would you like some breakfast?"

Ducky opened his mouth to speak, but Jethro beat him to it. "Yes, please, Amy. Something light and nutritious. Dr. Mallard's mom passed away in the night."

"Oh, I am sorry to hear that, sir. My condolences to you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Stewart."

"Tea, toast and scrambled eggs," she said, already moving away. "Eggs are very nutritious and light. And tea is always good for shock."

"I really don’t want to put you to any trouble." Ducky managed to get a whole sentence out without Jethro cutting him off.

"Oh, now, Dr. Mallard, you aren't putting me to any trouble. Don't be silly. Where do you want to eat, Mr. Jethro? Here or in the dining room? Or if you like I can set up the small table in your study."

"Study would be good, Amy. Thanks. But I'll set it up."

"If you're sure, sir."

"Yes. Thanks. Oh, and, Amy, I wonder if you could possibly - "

"Keep an eye on Miss Kelly for the rest of the day. Yes, of course I can, Mr. Jethro, it will be my pleasure. She can help me. Now of you go, I'll bring your breakfast through to you shortly."

"Thanks, Amy, what would I do without you?"

Mrs. Stewart just smiled.

Ducky found himself ushered back to Jethro's study and sat down again while Jethro assembled a small table, snaggled some cutlery and napkins and pulled up a couple of chairs. "There," he said, "that'll do."

And suddenly as he sat there waiting for Mrs. Stewart to bring tea, toast and scrambled eggs, which until that moment he hadn't thought he'd wanted, Ducky felt a huge weight lift from him and an overwhelming sense of gratitude and relief that Jethro had simply 'bulldozered' him and taken over.

Of course, he knew, he could have done it and would have done; had been expecting to do it all. And he would never have asked Jethro to help him, not even just to make him a cup of tea. No, he'd have rung the airport, booked flights, cars, whatever, arranged a taxi to collect him and take him to the airport. But it would have drained even more of his already depleted resources. Jethro had spoken the truth: Ducky had loved his mother, he had loved her deeply; she was - she had been - the most important person in his life. Her death was a shock, it hadn't quite devastated him, but it had hit him deeply. And for someone, someone whom he had only known for a few short months, someone whom, despite an instant rapport between them, someone who had become a friend, was still his employer, still a man he, when it came down to it, really hardly knew to do all that for it, warmed Ducky and gave him the kind of comfort he hadn't been expecting, hadn't been aware he needed.

"Thank you, Jethro," he said quietly, looking up at Jethro and putting his hand out to him. "Thank you," he repeated.

Jethro moved to him, took his hand and squeezed it, while with his other hand, he ruffled Ducky's hair. "No need to thank me, Duck," he said, sitting on the arm of the sofa and now putting his arm around Ducky and hugging him. "Told you, what are friends for?"
 

CHAPTER TEN: MAY 1992

The taxi pulled into Jethro's street and Ducky, absurdly found himself smiling and relaxing more than he had done in the three weeks since he'd been away.

Somewhat strangely, or maybe not, once he was back in Aberdeenshire, back in his Scottish childhood home, back among his mother's things, making the funeral arrangements, dealing with all the miniature that comes with death, he actually found himself less upset than when he'd stood in Jethro's study with Jethro's arms around him.

He had spoken at length with his mother's doctor and had been completely reassured that his mother would have, in essence, felt nothing. That it had been quick and painless, beyond one initial spark of pain. And he was glad for that; he had never wanted his mother to suffer and he knew she wouldn't have wanted that either. It turned out, following the post-mortem, that in fact his mother had suffered a stroke simultaneously with the heart attack and even had she survived the latter, the former would have, at best, left her bed ridden and needing constant care and assistance with everything, and at worst a complete vegetable. Ducky knew what both he and his mother would have chosen.

He had, as per his mother's wishes, scattered her ashes - she'd always told him she had no desire to rot in the ground - over the hills she had loved so much. The hills on which she had once told him he had been conceived. To this day he had no idea whether his mother had spoken the truth - it wouldn't have surprised him - and now he would never know.

He had closed up the house, pensioned off the servants and had decided to delay making a decision as to what to do with it as well as the house in England for the time being.

And now he was back in America; now he was back in Virginia; now he was home. It surprised him somewhat that America had become 'home' so very quickly, but another thing his grandmother had been found of saying was that 'home is people, not a place, not a building'. And now, inexplicably, Leroy Jethro and Kelly Ann Gibbs were his home.

He had rung Jethro to let him know when he'd be returning and on which flight and had won a hard fought battle over how Ducky would get back to Jethro's house. But it had been a battle which Ducky had been determined he would win; and for once he had.

"It's the third house on the left," he said, leaning forward to speak to the cab driver. As the house came into view he found his smile getting wider. The cab stopped and he pulled out his wallet - he intended to make sure he gave the driver a very good tip, because the poor man had had to load several heavy cases into his cab.

Ducky had decided to bring a 'few' more of his books, mostly from his childhood days and thus for Kelly, back to America with him. And then there were the gifts he'd brought for his 'family'. He had bought Kelly a stuffed highland cow with a tartan beret and scarf - it wasn't quite his type of thing, but she'd love it. He's also bought her a teddy bear in a kilt; however, he had drawn the line at a musical one! And then, because it reminded him so much of a precious doll his mother had had a child, which had somehow managed to survive being destroyed in the Blitz when everything around it had been ruined, he bought her a very special, very expensive, rather large doll. It wasn't really the kind you played with, but Ducky had never believed in toys as 'ornaments'; if Kelly wished to play with it, he would raise no objections. Besides the young girl treated her toys like her books: extremely well.

For Jethro he had bought a fairly large selection of pure malt scotch, a set of old English Law books he'd found in a second hand bookshop, as well as a painting of the wild Highlands painted by a local artist, plus a few other small gifts.

For Mrs. Stewart and Mrs. Abbott he had bought shortbread and marmalade and other Scottish delicacies. And he also bought himself a large selection of teas - getting a decent cup of tea was one of the greatest problems with living in America.

As he got out of the cab and hurried around the assist the cab driver who was already unloading the various cases and boxes (Ducky had gone way over the luggage limit and had had to pay a rather extortionate excess luggage charge) there was a high pitched cry and he turned around just in time to have an eight year old launch herself into his arms.

"Dr. Mallard! Dr. Mallard! Dr. Mallard!" she cried, as she clung to him so tightly he found it hard to breathe. "You're back! You're back! I've missed you so much." He could hear that she was laughing and crying simultaneously as she continued to cling to him.

"I've missed you too, Kelly," he said, brushing his hand over the top of her head. "You and your daddy," he added, as Jethro hurried up, frowning and trying to end a conversation on his cell phone. In the end he managed to do so by the simple expediency of just turning it off.

"Hey, Duck," he said, holding out his hand to Ducky and smiling. "Welcome home."

Ducky managed to extract one hand from Kelly's bear hug and took Jethro's. "Thank you, Jethro," he said, smiling in return. "It is good to be back."

"I see you brought half of Britain back with you," Jethro said, as the cab driver finally unloaded the last box and case from the car. "Would you mind giving me a hand to get them inside?" he said to the driver, as Ducky was about to pay him.

The driver glanced at Jethro, glanced at his home and clearly worked out his chances of an even larger tip. "Not at all, mate," he said, gathering up a case in each hand and tucking another under his arm.

There was no way Ducky could manage anything, other than his hand luggage, because Kelly was still clinging to his other arm like a limpet.

Finally everything was inside the house, they'd taken it all into the hallway of the main house, Jethro had given the driver an extremely large tip and was now shutting and locking the front door and Kelly was chattering away nineteen to the dozen. He was home.

"Kell," Jethro called, finally interrupting her constant chatter.

She stopped and looked at him. "Yes, Daddy?"

"Be a good girl and run and ask Mrs. Stewart to make a pot of tea."

"Oh, but, Daddy, I'm telling Dr. Mallard all about -"

"You can tell me later, Kelly. I'm not going anywhere. And when you come back, I'll show you just why I've, to quote your father, 'bought half of Britain' back with me."

She beamed, twirled round three times and ran away. Ducky and Jethro stood and watched her.

"I hope you haven't spoiled her," Jethro said, looking around the hall.

Ducky shook his head. "Oh, no. Most of the things I have brought with me for Kelly are educational."

"More books?"

Ducky smiled. "More books."

Jethro mock rolled his eyes. "Do I need to buy her yet another bookcase?"

Ducky chuckled. "I hate to admit it, Jethro, but yes, I think you just may."

"So is all that books?" Jethro asked, his eyes widening slightly as he stared at the cases and boxes.

Ducky hastened to reassure him. "Oh, no. Well, I couldn't just give her second hand books now, could I? But I have been restrained. And naturally as I was buying something for Kelly, well . . . Let us say I felt it was time you experienced some true malt scotch from its homeland. And then there are one or two small gifts for Mrs. Stewart and Mrs. Abbott. And of course I had to buy myself some tea. I have grown to love your country, but really the choice of tea is not quite up to the standard -"

"Yeah, I was right 'half of Britain'." And then, his tone more serious, Jethro asked. "How are you, Duck? You okay?"

Ducky nodded. "Yes, thank you, Jethro. Yes. Yes, I am. Really I am. Mother is at peace and I am home."

"You sure? Because -"

But whatever Jethro was going to say was interrupted by Kelly's reappearance. "Done that, Daddy," she called, running back to them. "Mrs. Stewart said she'll bring the tea to us when it's made. Can I see what you've brought back now, please, Dr. Mallard?" She slipped her hand inside his again and stared up at him, the pleading look, the one that always seemed to get her her own way (not that she used it often, she was intelligent enough to know not to overplay her hand) was clear in her eyes.

Ducky smiled. "I'm sure you can, Kelly," he said, stressing the word and using his 'tutor' tone.

She frowned and put her head on one side. He watched her as she carefully figured out what he meant. "May I see what you've brought back, Dr. Mallard? Please," she added quickly. "Was that right?"

Ducky laughed softly. "Yes, Kelly," he said, glancing at Jethro who seemed bemused by the game. "That was indeed correct."

Kelly's smile grew wider.

"You okay, Duck? You look a bit tired?" Jethro asked, as they settled down after supper to enjoy some non-Kelly time and a drink.

"A little fatigued. This time last night it was past midnight," Ducky replied. "But I'll be fine, really. Now, I suggest we begin your 'education' of true Scottish scotch with a Speyside whisky."

"Whatever you say. I'm in your hands."

Ducky stopped the mental image that tried to flash into his mind at Jethro's words from even beginning to form. Instead he opened the bottle and handed it to Jethro to sniff. "This is Tamdhu; it is produced in the town of Knockando in Banffshire by the Highland Distilleries. It is a light to medium Speyside malt that is very slightly peaty, has a gentle sweetness and a long subtle finish to it. As you can see it is a beautiful color and it is what I would call a 'refined' whisky." As he spoke he took the bottle back from Jethro and poured a fairly healthy measure into each of two glasses. "The word 'Tamdhu' actually means 'little dark hill' in Gaelic and the distillery is the only one in Speyside to malt all of its own barley on the premises. The disti - Oh, dear," he said, breaking off as he saw the amused look on Jethro's face. "I am afraid I'm rambling again. It is one of the habits of being a teacher, I'm afraid; one never seems able to stop teaching."

Jethro shook his head. "I don't mind, Duck. You always make it interesting, but I would like to try the whiskey as well as hear about it." He held out his hand for a glass.

Ducky handed one glass over. "May I make a suggestion?" he said, as Jethro was about to take a second sip.

"Sure."

"Now that you've tried it neat, and no, don't yet tell me what you thought of it, try it with a little water."

Jethro shrugged, the gesture was a negative one. "It's not my way of doing of things, Duck. I never put water in my drinks. I like it neat."

"I understand your feelings and there was a time when I would have agreed with you. The very idea of watering down a good scotch seemed like a sacrilege to me. However, one of my professors when I was in my final year at Edinburgh persuaded me to do that thing. Like yourself I was wary, but he assured me that rather than detract from the taste, it would actually enhance it. Ah, I see you are still skeptical. But could you not trust me?" As emotional blackmail went it was very mild.

However, Jethro still stared at him and began to laugh. "You'd have made a good lawyer, Duck," he said. "Go on then. Put some water in it."

"And if you really do not like it, I'll happily drink it and you can have mine. I haven't touched it yet." Ducky poured a little water into the glass Jethro held and waited as his friend sipped it. He watched Jethro's reaction carefully.

"Well, I'll be damned," Jethro said, after he took not one sip but two. "You're right, Duck, it is better. Smoother somehow and you get a deeper taste rather than just the harshness of pure liquor. It works. Okay, I'll give one to you. It works."

Ducky sighed gently with relief and added some water to his own glass. "Well, your good health, Jethro," he said, raising his glass.

Jethro touched his glass with Ducky's. "Yours too, Duck," he said. Then he said softly, "To your mom, I never met her, but she sounded like a great woman. One I'd have liked."

Ducky swallowed around the small lump that had appeared in his throat. "I believe you would have done, and she would have liked you. And she would have adored Kelly. Mother was remarkably, especially given her generation, relaxed and understanding about my sexual preferences. We didn't talk about it in depth, one didn't, but I did tell her and her reply was that as long as I was happy, that was all that mattered. And it did, I know that. But I also know if she had any regrets by my choice, it was that she would never have grandchildren."

Jethro nodded and was silent for a moment. Then he asked, his voice low, "Do you regret not having kids of your own?"

Ducky looked at him. "I do not think so, no. Whilst I am very fond of children, somehow I'm not sure I would have made a good father."

"No, you'd have made an excellent father."

"Come now, Jethro, you are basing that purely on my abilities as a tutor."

But Jethro shook his head. "No, no, I'm not."

"Well, the whole thing is academic anyway. I am not ever going to father a child and even if I were suddenly to find myself a -" He cut himself off bluntly and hastily searched his mind for something else to say.

Jethro just stared at him and suddenly Ducky had a strange feeling. It was one of very slight unease, tempered with apprehension, expectation and the low level desire he had felt for Jethro almost from the moment they met suddenly flared beyond that of a low level. Hastily he put his glass down and stood up. "Please excuse me for a moment," he said, turning and hurrying across and out of the room.

After relieving himself unnecessarily he splashed several handfuls of cold water onto his face and forced himself to look into the mirror over the sink. "Stop it," he told himself forcefully. "You cannot do this to yourself. You cannot allow these feelings to grow. You must not. You're fifty for heaven's sake. Behave like the mature man you are, not like a teenager with a crush. Be happy with what you have: a good friend." He stayed in the bathroom for several minutes before he felt able to return and rejoin Jethro in the sitting room.

As he made his way back part of him, the cowardly side, told him to cut short the evening, to say that the fatigue from the time differences had increased and he needed to retire to bed. But part of him, the much bigger part, didn't want to.

When he went back into the sitting room, Jethro was exactly where he'd left him, sitting at one end of the sofa, sipping his whisky and flipping through a book on malt scotches that Ducky had bought for him. He glanced up as Ducky came back in, but other than flashing him a slightly quizzical look said nothing.

As he retook his seat at the opposite end of the sofa and picked his drink back up, Ducky felt relieved by the lack of any kind of question, even the 'are you okay'? which would have been a logical one for Jethro to have asked.

"So what are you going to do with the family homes?" Jethro asked, after a few seconds of silence.

Ducky breathed a silent sigh of relief at the safe topic. "I haven't quite decided yet. For now I have merely closed the one in Scotland and retired the staff; our home in England had already been closed when Mother moved up to Scotland. Someone goes in once a week to give the place an airing and check that all is well, and obviously the garden is to be kept tidy. To be honest other than that I haven't given the matter any thought. I certainly do not like the idea of taking in tenants for either of them, but nor do I like the idea of them standing empty and unloved for a long time. And yet equally so, I do not like the idea of not maintaining a home in Britain. I know that sounds foolish, but well it was my home for fifty years."

Jethro shook his head. "Nah, doesn't sound foolish to me. Makes sense. As a lawyer as well as your friend, my advice would be not to rush into any hasty decisions."

Ducky smiled. "Very sound advice, Mr. Gibbs," he said. "I believe I shall take it."

"Ah, Duck," Jethro said. "You're right this is a very good whiskey indeed."

"I'm glad you like it. I hoped you would."

"I do. Very much." Jethro was looking at him again with an intensity Ducky hadn't seen before. Once again he got a faint feeling of unease and another of apprehension. He also got the distinct impression that Jethro wanted to say something to him, but wasn't quite sure how to say it.

To cover the unease he felt, Ducky latched on to a safe topic: Kelly. "I hope Kelly kept up with her reading and work whilst I was gone," he said.

"She certainly did. More than once I heard her teaching her teddies and dolls. And assuring them that Dr. Mallard would be back soon. If she asked me once each day if I was sure you were coming back, she asked me half a dozen times."

"Oh, dear," said Ducky. "It was very unfortunate timing. We had just really settled down into a routine. I'm sorry she kept bothering you."

Jethro shook his head. "Wasn't a bother, Duck. She missed you."

"I missed her too. Far more than I think I had believed I would."

Suddenly Jethro put down his glass and to Ducky's surprise moved along the sofa towards Ducky. He watched Jethro swallow and his gaze became intense. "Kelly's not the only one who missed you, Duck," Jethro said, his voice low. And to Ducky's surprise Jethro cupped his face between his hands, leaned forward and kissed him.

It was just a mere brushing of lips on lips to start with, but it sent a surge of electricity through Ducky and he heard himself moan softly. The noise coupled with the fact that Ducky didn't move away or object, seemed to spur Jethro on, as the grip he had on Ducky's face became slightly firmer and the kiss less tentative.

Far too soon for Ducky's liking, Jethro took his mouth away from Ducky's and moved back a little, but he still kept his hands on Ducky's face. "You okay with this, Duck?" he whispered, his dark blue gaze never once leaving Ducky's face.

Part of Ducky's mind screamed at him to say 'no', to stop this before it went any further. But he was only human and his dreams had been filled with Jethro for weeks now, and as much as he'd missed Kelly while he was away, he'd missed Jethro ten, twenty times more. Why fight it? Well he could think of plenty of reasons; one in particular. But nothing in life was given, not even the amount of life; he could die tomorrow. On that sobering thought he nodded gently and said, his voice soft and husky, "Oh, yes, Jethro. Very much so."

The next second he found his mouth claimed again by Jethro's and he began to kiss him back. Jethro moved nearer to him, breaking the grip he hand on his face, to put his arms around Ducky and pull him nearer to him, gathering him into his embrace.

Jethro's lips were warm, firm and moist and Ducky could feel a very faint touch of stubble as Jethro's chin rubbed against his. He could taste as well as smell the expensive and subtle cologne Jethro wore each day, mingled with the natural scent of the man he was kissing. Feeling the tip of Jethro's tongue brush over his lips, he parted his own lips and encouraged Jethro's tongue into his mouth.

He could taste the Tamdhu more clearly now, along with the sweet freshness that came from Jethro's mouth. Jethro had one hand tangled lightly in his hair; the other was around his shoulders. Ducky's own arms were around Jethro and they felt the natural strength and good muscle tone of the man he was kissing.

After more gentle kisses, Jethro finally broke away and sucked in a mouthful of air. He moved the hand that had been entwined in Ducky's hair and started to lightly caress Ducky's face, outlining his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his nose, his chin and finally trailed one finger up to Ducky's lips. As the finger finished tracing the outside of Ducky's lips and glided onto them, Ducky opened his mouth a little and gently took Jethro's finger inside his mouth where he softly sucked it.

He saw the reaction on Jethro's face, in the way the blue eyes darkened even more, heard the soft, almost bittern off gasp and felt the very faintest hint of a tremble not only in the finger he sucked, but in Jethro's entire body. It pleased him; it pleased him immensely.

After a little more gentle sucking, he let Jethro's finger slip from his mouth and this time it was Ducky himself who leaned towards Jethro, pulled Jethro into his arms and initiated another kiss. It was sweet, the sweetest Ducky had ever known. It was, given the intimacy and closeness, and clear desire, remarkably chaste and pure. It was new, but it was an old as time itself. Jethro's mouth was unchartered waters for him, but he knew it was well, if not better, than he knew his own. It was intense yet so very mild and calm. He had never known a kiss like it, never before had he been kissed by someone in the way Jethro was kissing him. Never before had he known what it was like to be kissed by someone whose focus was one hundred percent on him - as Jethro's was.

Jethro's desire for him and his passion was obvious, but also clear was the fact that there was no rush. Ducky wasn't the kind of man who had ever bedded another man on a first date or first meeting, but never before had he been certain he wouldn't have to worry about someone trying to take it further and force him. To say he felt safe might sound foolish, but he did. He felt cherished, he felt cared for in away he hadn't known since he'd been a young boy.

For a man who had never kissed another man before Jethro was remarkably adept at it, and yet just uncertain, just naïve, enough to ensure that the natural cockiness which Ducky was well aware formed part of Leroy Jethro's Gibbs's character did not raise its head.

Finally they broke apart again in order to regain oxygen and again Jethro raised a now slightly shaky hand and began to stroke Ducky's cheek. "I missed you, Duck," he said softly.

"I missed you too, Jethro," Ducky replied, taking Jethro's other hand and linking his fingers with it. "I -"

But Jethro just shook his head. "Don't say anything else, just come here and let me kiss you again."

And so Ducky did.

And for the best part of the next hour or so, they simply sat on the sofa exchanging kisses and light caresses that never moved below shoulder height, enjoying the peace and tranquility of one another's company. Ducky could not remember a time he had ever been as happy.

Finally, at about ten o'clock, Jethro, taking Ducky by the hand, walked him to the door that connected his house with the apartment Ducky occupied. "Sleep well, Duck," he said, kissing him again, this time very fleetingly. "Pleasant dreams," he smiled. And then and only then did the very faint sign of cockiness mixed with equal measures of uncertainty flash across Jethro's face.

"Oh, I shall, Jethro," Ducky said, retuning the kiss. "I hope you do too." And after one final kiss, which mirrored their very first one, Ducky slipped through the connecting door and into his own, quiet apartment.

Once inside his apartment, Ducky leaned against the wall and sighed. His entire body still tingled with desire, need, want and affection, but at the same time he felt guilty, so very guilty.

It shouldn't have happened. He should never have allowed it to happen. It could not, it must not, happen again. It just couldn't. It was wrong, so very, very, very wrong. He should have stopped it when his mind had told him too. He should have said 'no' when Jethro had asked him if it was okay. He should have - He should have done so many things. But what he should not have done was to let Jethro kiss him. And he never should have let him go on kissing him. And he most definitely should not have kissed him back.

But accepting Jethro's kiss, kissing him back had felt so good, so very good. It had felt more than just 'good', it had felt . . . And for once in his life, even with his huge vocabulary, that spanned several different languages, Ducky couldn't find the word to describe what it had felt like.

And when he'd taken Jethro's finger into his mouth and sucked it, how blatant had that been? But that too had felt so good. He could remember how it had felt inside his mouth, firm, warm, moist. He could remember the look on Jethro's face as he'd sucked it and he could remember how his body had reacted.

How his body was once again reacting. He was growing aroused again, as he thought about the kiss, Jethro's finger, Jethro's arms around him, Jethro's scent, the feel of the faint stubble as it brushed against his chin, thought about Jethro, he was hardening more and more. He had to stop thinking, stop remembering now, right now, before his body demanded completion.

But it was too late. He knew his own body intimately and he knew the signs. But he couldn't, he couldn't let thoughts of Jethro, memories of Jethro's mouth, lips, tongue, hands loving him be there when he - Because he now knew he had to let his body have its release.

Thus still shaking and tingling he went into the bathroom and somewhat clumsily removed his clothes, hissing slightly as the cool air touched his heated skin, turned on the shower and stood under the jets of hot water.

As he rested against the cool tiles and moved his hand down his body to his erection, he ordered himself to think of something else, anything else, someone else, not Jethro. Jethro was his employer, the father of his pupil; his friend. It was wrong, it was so very wrong. Yes, he'd dreamed of Jethro, more than once, yes, he was attracted to him, but not once had he deliberately thought of Jethro in a sexual or romantic sense when he'd . . . To do so now would be wrong.

But the mind is a strange thing, it has a will of its own and even as Ducky tried desperately to push the memories of the kisses and light caresses from his mind, even as he tried to force away the image of Jethro's finger in his mouth, the scent of Jethro, the taste of Jethro, they came back so clearly, so very clearly. So clearly that he snapped open his eyes in order to reassure himself that Jethro hadn't somehow materialized in the shower with him.

It was no good fighting it, thus after a few more valiant and failed attempts to do so, Ducky gave in. He gave in and let the memories of the kisses and the images of how Jethro had looked and felt under his mouth, under his hands, how his finger had felt so right in Ducky's mouth flood through him.

And as they flowed though him, they changed slightly and he and Jethro weren't just sitting on a sofa kissing while fully clothed, they were lying in bed kissing and caressing and making love to one another while completely naked.

He was close, he was very close, his fingers were slick and he could feel the usual build up as his body raced closer and closer to the edge. When completion finally hit him, he sagged further back against the wall. "I love you, Jethro. I love you." The words came, unwittingly, from him in a half sob, a half whisper.

Breathing heavily as he braced himself against the now welcome cool tiles, he held himself for several moments until his heart rate started to return to normal and he became completely soft again.

He spent several minutes washing himself, sluicing water over his body, grateful for the unlimited supply of hot water. Then dried and dressed in pajamas and his dressing gown, he went into his sitting room and poured himself another measure of Tamdhu which he took to bed with him and sipped while he read, or tried to read, several chapters of his current book.

An hour later he made another quick visit to the bathroom to brush his teeth and relieve himself, before he got back into bed, turned off the light and laid down to sleep.

But sleep was a very long time coming and for what seemed like hours he tossed and turned, forcing his mind from going to the place it wanted again. "No," he said, speaking aloud to the silent room. "No. It cannot happen again. It must not happen again. It will not happen again."

And with that determined vow on his lips, he finally did fall into sleep. But the dreaming Ducky 'obeyed' Jethro's last 'orders'; his dreams were very pleasant indeed.

Jethro went into his bedroom and shut the door behind him. "What the hell have you done, Leroy Jethro Gibbs," he said, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The face that stared back at him told him exactly what he'd done.

His lips were still slightly swollen and reddened, his pupils a little larger than they normally were, his chin somewhat red, and he could see the teeniest hint of a tremble in his cheeks. But it wasn't just his reflection that let him know what he'd done; it was the way his body was feeling.

It felt fully charged, it felt alive, it tingled with intense desire, want, need, a need so intense he had to stop himself from leaving his room, going along the hall, opening the door that connected his house to Ducky's apartment, going in, finding Ducky, taking him into his arms, crushing his lips with his and -

At the 'and' his lower body seemed to surge forward and he felt his arousal intensify. It had been just over two years since Shannon had left him, since he'd last kissed someone, other than Kelly of course, or the kind of 'social' or 'Christmas kisses' one bestowed. And the same amount of time since he'd held another person in his arms in such an intimate manner.

For a moment he cupped his hand over his hardness, pushing into it and imagining it wasn't his hand, but Ducky's who was holding him, who was about to unzip him, who was about to -

He forced that image away and forced his mind to think about the Laws of Tort, anything to calm him down. He didn't want release like that, not quickly and not while he was dressed, he wanted to enjoy the pleasure, take pleasure in the sensation of touching himself. He'd gotten good at self-stimulating and pleasure since Shannon had left him, but normally it was clinical, just a physical release, a need that wouldn't go away until he stroked himself. But tonight he wanted more. Tonight he was going to deliberately think of someone. And not just anyone; tonight he was going to think of Ducky.

But even as he thought that, even as he moved his hand away and began to unbutton his shirt, he knew he shouldn't. It wasn't right. He should never have kissed Ducky, should never have gone on kissing him, should never have started it. And he still didn't know why he had done so. Ducky was another man and never in his life had he considered kissing another man. But it wasn't about Ducky being a man, it was about Ducky being Ducky and he'd wanted to kiss Ducky, he'd wanted to hold Ducky in his arms, he'd wanted Ducky to kiss him back, he'd wanted Ducky to hold him in his arms.

His mind slipped back to the kisses, the gentle and light caresses, they way they held one another; the way everything had seemed so right, so proper, so perfect, so intimate. And then he remembered the way his finger had felt in Ducky's mouth. How surprised he'd been at the gesture, how aroused he'd become as Ducky had lightly sucked it. How his mind had imagined -

He stopped the thought again. No. It was wrong. He couldn't. Ducky was his employee; Kelly's tutor; Ducky was his friend. That was enough, that should be enough, that would be enough; that had to be enough.

No, he'd just undress, get into bed and give his body the release it craved in his usual expert, but somewhat clinical and detached manner. He wouldn't let his mind think of kisses and caresses and a finger in a warm, moist, soft - Again, he had to grip himself; if he didn't stop he was going to climax where he stood, without any need for physical stimulation.

Swiftly he undressed dropping his clothing, including his now damp shorts, onto the bedroom floor - he'd tidy them up later, for now he had to let his body have its own way. The sheets were cool under his naked, heated skin, as he moved his hand down his body, pausing just for a second before his fingers closed around his arousal.

He wouldn't think of Ducky or the kisses or - He'd just do his usual thing, as aroused and close to the edge as he was, it would only take a few strokes and his body could have the release it craved and then he'd tidy up, shower, and then go to sleep. It was simple; it was something he did regularly. He didn't need to think of anyone; he didn't need to think of soft mouths opening for him, of firm hands holding him, of lips meeting his, of tongues teasing his, of mouths closing around his finger. Of -

With those thoughts in his mind and the image of Ducky kissing him, holding him, caressing him, making love to him; of a naked Ducky in his bed, pliant, aroused, showing his need, his desire, his want, his body found its much needed fulfillment. His fingers and palm, already slick, were covered as his climax shook his body. He sank back further into the bed as the liquid flowed into his hand, "I love you, Duck. I love you," he murmured, his voice harsh and shaky.

He took his hand away from his softening arousal and lay on his back staring up at the ceiling, breathing heavily until his heart rate finally returned to normal.

He then got out of bed, gathered up his clothes, dumping underwear, socks and shirt into the dirty linen basket and throwing trousers and sweater over a chair, dealt with his suddenly desperate need to pee, before getting into the shower. He stood under the pounding hot water, letting it sluice over his body for what seemed like hours; he was glad his supply of water wasn't limited. Then pulling on pajama bottoms and throwing his robe over them, he padded into the sitting room and poured himself another measure of the scotch they'd been drinking. He tossed it back, without water, in two swallows, decided against pouring another one and returned to his bedroom and his bed.

For the next hour he read, or tried to read, one of his law books - he had a case he should be reading up on, but the words seemed like pure gibberish to him. So in the end he gave in, put the book on his nightstand, paid a quick final visit to the bathroom to brush his teeth and once more relieve himself, before he got back into bed, turned off the light and laid down to sleep.

But sleep was a very long time coming and for what seemed like hours he tossed and turned, forcing his mind from going to the place it wanted again. "No," he said, speaking aloud to the silent room. "No. It can't happen again. It mustn't happen again. It won't happen again."

And with that determined vow on his lips, he finally did fall into sleep. But the dreaming Jethro 'fulfilled Ducky's last 'hope'; his dreams were very pleasant indeed.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Ducky was very tempted to refuse Jethro's usual offer of a post-dinner drink, cite essays to mark, book reports to read and return to his own apartment. But he decided that was foolish, even if he did that tonight, what excuse was he going to make tomorrow or the day after or the day after or . . .

They were both adults; they could sit in the same room and enjoy a drink and converse just as they'd been doing during the previous three months. Besides, he had made a firm decision and nothing Jethro could say or do would alter that decision.

Jethro poured them both a drink, handed one glass to Ducky, hesitated for a split second and then sat down on the sofa, in his usual place - at the opposite end to Ducky. For a few minutes they sat in silence, a relaxed, normal, non-threatening silence.

Then, after taking a long swallow of his drink and putting his glass down on the coffee table, Jethro looked at Ducky, moistened his lips with his tongue and spoke. "About last night, Duck . . ."

"Yes, Jethro?"

"It was -"

"Oh, yes, it was."

"I -"

"So did I. Very much."

"But it -"

"No. No. I agree entirely."

"Good. But it was -"
 

"Oh, yes. Definitely. Very much so."

"And I did -"
 

"As did I."

"So that's settled then?"

"Yes."

"And we're still -"
 

"Oh, certainly."

"Good."

And with that out of the way, Jethro poured them another drink and they sat and chatted about Kelly, Jethro's day, Ducky's thoughts about what to do with the houses he had in Britain, and all the other things they normally talked about. It was just as it had been for three months.

The clock on the sideboard showed the hour at which Ducky normally left Jethro. He drained the last few drops of his scotch, put his glass on the table and stood up. "I'll say goodnight then, Jethro," Ducky said, smiling and beginning to turn away.

Instantly Jethro was on his feet too. He caught Ducky's arm and stopped him from moving. "Duck?"

"Jethro?"

"I can't. I'm sorry, I'm so very sorry, but I can't. This can't go on. I'm so very sorry, Duck."

"Jethro?" Ducky looked at Jethro. Was he being in effect fired? Surely not; they were both adults. It might take a day or two, but he was sure they'd forget last night ever happened, well maybe not forget, he would never forget the feel of Jethro's mouth on his, his arms around him. It would always be a wonderful memory, but a memory was all it could be. So they could have their memories and - He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "What cannot go on, Jethro?" he asked, forcing himself to maintain eye contact.

"Me not doing this," Jethro said, as he tugged Ducky nearer to him, gathered him into his arms, lowered his head and kissed him.

It took Ducky less than a second to put his own arms around Jethro and begin to kiss him back.

In his time Ducky had read many novels, even those regarded as 'trashy', he had always felt one shouldn't judge a book or a genre until one tried it. And now as he was kissed by Jethro and kissed him back, as he felt Jethro's body press against his, as he felt himself being held in a tight embrace, as he tasted the scotch on Jethro's tongue and in his mouth as he smelt and drank in the expensive cologne, he almost felt as if he'd fallen into a cheap romance novel. It was perfect, no one had ever kissed him as Jethro was kissing him, no one had ever moved him as Jethro was moving him, no one had ever paid him as much attention as Jethro was paying him. But unlike romance novels, trashy or otherwise, this couldn't have a happy ending.

He should break the kiss, he should; he must. But he couldn't. Just this once more, he told himself, as Jethro's lips parted and the tip of Jethro's tongue touched his own lips, urging them to also part. Then his tongue flicked inside Ducky's mouth, before withdrawing quickly and encouraging Ducky's own tongue to follow it. It did and once again like trashy romance novels it was like tasting nectar, being in Jethro's mouth was like heaven, it was so right, so very right; so dangerously wrong.

He was growing aroused and could feel Jethro's matching arousal press against him, but it was a gentle arousal he was feeling; not the frantic kind, not the kind that was going to lead to bodies racing to completion, but one of trust, security, gentle pleasure. But he had to stop it; he had to. Just a few moments longer, he told himself. Just a few more moments of gathering memories, then he'd stop and they'd agree 'never again' and this time they would mean it.

Ducky wasn't certain how long the 'few moments longer' lasted, but finally the kiss was broken and they moved apart a little, both breathing heavily and searching for much needed air. He didn't want to look at Jethro, didn't want to look into the dark gaze, didn't want to see the desire he knew would be there, didn't want to see the affection he knew would be there. He didn’t want to see Jethro's kiss reddened and swollen lips. But he had to look; he had to see all those things.

"Oh, Jethro," he murmured softly, when he finally felt able to speak. "We agreed."

Jethro took one arm from around him and ran his fingers through his hair, then he took his other arm away, leaving Ducky feeling cold and bereft, and turned and strode away, still running his fingers through his hair. "I know, Duck," he finally said, turning and looking at Ducky. Anguish was so very clear to see. "I know," he repeated. "I told myself last night, I vowed, when I . . . That it would just be that one time. That'd I'd just think of you once. No more. Just the once . . . I told myself that tonight we'd talk, like we did, and agree 'never again'. I told myself that and I meant it, truly I meant it, Duck. And I meant it when we agreed a couple of hours ago. But . . . I couldn't," the last words were whispered.

The words were just the things Ducky himself had been thinking, he'd made the same vow too as he'd . . . Did Jethro mean that he had also . . . ? Ducky forced the image of a naked Jethro on his bed, touching himself from his mind. This was neither the time nor the place. "I know you did, Jethro," he said quietly. "And so did I. I too vowed last night, 'just this one time'. And I meant it. I truly meant it."

Jethro looked at him. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I don't know what you think I'm saying," Ducky answered, not quite honestly.

"Did you . . . ? As well?"

Ducky felt his cheeks flush slightly; the flush deepened as Jethro smiled. "Jethro," he said, a tad sharply. "That is not the point. The point is -"

"The point is, Duck. I want to kiss you."

"Jethro. We . . ." Now Ducky trailed off.

Jethro closed his eyes and then put his head back. "I know, Duck. I know. But . . . Look come and sit back down."

"I really think I should go." Ducky turned away.

Jethro caught his arm and held him back. "And do what, Duck? Go to your bed or was it in the shower?" Ducky refused to comment. After a moment Jethro went on. "And then make the same vow 'just this once and never again'. What happens tomorrow?"

Ducky turned back to face Jethro. "Jethro, you are my employer; you are the father of my pupil and you are my friend. We cannot be anything more to one another."

"Why not?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Why? Why can't we, Duck? Look," Jethro moved towards Ducky. "I like you, a lot, and you like me, don't you?" Ducky nodded. "Well, then what's the problem?"

"Jethro, you know very well what the problem is."

"Did you enjoy kissing me?"

Ducky nodded. "Yes," he said softly. "Very much so."

"Do you want me to do it again?"

Briefly Ducky closed his eyes. "Yes," he said, his tone now grim. He opened his eyes again, God forgive him, but he did. "Yes, I do."

"Well then. I want to kiss you again, so . . . " Jethro shrugged and raised his arms in a gesture that matched his words.

"Is it really that simple?" Ducky asked.

"Can be, if we want it to be. Or it can be hellishly complicated. Look, Ducky, life is short. Too short to miss out on something that is so good. I want to kiss you and for the record I want a hell of a lot more too. Not sure I really know what I mean by that, you're the first man I've ever kissed, but I guess you know that, don't you?"

Ducky smiled. "Yes, Jethro. I had figured that out."

"Good. So to sum up: I want you. But I swear to you if you say 'no' now, then I'll let you go home and I'll say nothing more about it. I won't try to convince you, I won't try to kiss you again. We'll go on as we were before and, I can't say 'forget' because I won't, but put it behind us and not let it interfere with our friendship or anything."

Ducky looked at him, he was skeptical. "Could you?" he asked. "Could you really do that?"

Jethro again threw his hands up and shrugged. "Honest answer? I don't know. I've never wanted anyone in the way I want you, Duck. But . . . I would do my damndest."

"Maybe I should -"

Jethro interrupted him swiftly. "Oh, no. You shouldn't."

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"Hmph. Go on then." Jethro's tone was not an overly inviting one.

"I was going to say that maybe I should stop accepting your invitation to eat with Kelly and yourself and -"

"And how are you going to explain that one to Kelly?"

"Ah," Ducky said. "I honestly had not thought about that. Very well, maybe I should stop accepting your offer to stay and spend the evening with you, after Kelly has gone to bed."

"And you think that would work?" Jethro looked extremely skeptical.

Ducky tried to be practical; he also tried to ignore the fact that not only was Jethro still holding his arm, but that somehow either he or Jethro himself had moved, as they were now standing much closer to one another. And he definitely tried to ignore the way his body was urging him to stop arguing, put his arms around Jethro and kiss him again. "If I were not here, you could not kiss me," he said.

He watched Jethro frown and saw his face take on the look he imagined opposing lawyers must see, as Jethro tried to find a way around the hard and cold fact. "It wouldn't stop me wanting to kiss you," he said finally. But from the way the frown deepened, Ducky got the impression that Jethro didn't consider it the best argument he had ever made.

"Well, that I suppose is true," Ducky said. "But if we removed temptation, then . . ." He broke off and shrugged. "We could try, at least," he said, hoping Jethro didn’t notice how lacking in enthusiasm his tone was.

Jethro was silent for a few minutes. Then he sighed softly and said, "We could."

Ducky hurried on. "After all, it could have just been one of those things. Here we are, both -"

"Lonely people who just happened to -"

"I was actually going to say 'unattached'. I don't know how long it has been since you have - I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said since Shannon left me."

Ducky blinked. "Oh," he said. "I hadn't realized. I assumed . . . Actually, I didn't assume anything. I hadn't really given it any thought."

Jethro shrugged. "At first I told myself it was just because I didn't want to leave Kelly with a babysitter so soon after her mom left her. Then I told myself that I couldn't bring a woman here, couldn't let anyone meet Kelly unless I was sure she was it, because I wasn't going to let Kelly get used to another woman only to have her walk away too. Then I told myself . . . Oh, I don't know now, Duck, what I told myself. Truth is, I just didn't bother. I had my job, I had Kelly, I had . . . Well you know," Jethro said, for a moment glancing down at the floor and then looking back up at Ducky and brazenly holding his stare.

They stood there, in silence, just staring at one another for several minutes. Then Jethro slid his hand from where it held Ducky's arm down and took his hand. "Look, Duck," he said quietly. "I'm not saying it's going to be a bed or roses, I'm not saying it's not going to be without its complications, I'm not saying it's even right. But it's what I want. And I think it's what you want too. But if it isn't just say so and we'll deal with it. But I can't stand here talking about it any longer. I'm not you. I don't 'do' talking - oh, I do in my job; I can talk my way around any legal issue and talk my opponent into submission. I can tie them up in knots, legal-talk is easy. But outside of that," he shrugged. "So simple question: yes or no? Do we stop this now, really stop this now, or do we . . . ?"

Ducky stared up at him; Jethro had moved that close. Everything in his being shrieked at him to say 'no'. Every fiber in his body urged him to say 'stop it now'. But right or wrong. Simple or complicated. Bed of roses or a garden full of weeds, it was what he wanted. Jethro was right, life was too short.

He thought about Jethro's kisses, he thought about his mouth on his own, he thought about being in his arms, he thought about, being held by someone who cared, he thought about what he felt, he thought about what he wanted, he remembered how the kisses tasted and felt. And then he thought about and remembered Kelly. He closed his eyes; there was only one answer; there could only be one answer. Jethro knew that. He had to know that.

He opened his eyes again and made his decision. It was cost him, it would cost them both, but things were never without cost. He moved back a step so he didn't have to tilt his head back quite so far and moistened his lips.

"I can't, Jethro," he said softly, his tone heavy with regret. "I am very sorry, so very sorry, but I cannot do it."

Jethro nodded; his face looked grim. "Okay," he said, his voice rough. "I understand," he managed.

"Do you?" Ducky said softly, now taking a step back towards Jethro. "Do you, Jethro? Do you understand? I'm not sure how you can given I haven't told you what it is I cannot do?" He took yet another step nearer to his prey.

Jethro frowned and looked confused. "Duck?" he managed, the confusion clear in his tone as well. "I don't -"

"Why do you not ask me what it is I cannot do," Ducky said silkily, letting the tip of his tongue brush over his lips.

The confusion was still clear on Jethro's face. "Okay, what is it you can't do."

"Stop doing this," Ducky said, not quite echoing Jethro's own words, as he put his arms around Jethro's neck, tugged his head down and put his own lips onto Jethro's and kissed him. He went on kissing him and kissing him, as finally Jethro seemed to have recovered from his surprise and wrapped his own arms around Ducky and began to return the kiss.

CHAPTER TWELVE: JUNE 1992

Jethro, juggling his briefcase, a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers for Mrs. Stewart as it was her birthday, closed the door, somewhat more loudly than he'd intended to do, behind him. "I'm home," he called, dropping his briefcase onto the floor and putting the flowers and wine on the table that stood in the hall next to the door.

"Daddy, Daddy," Kelly cried, running towards him.

"Hey, pumpkin," he said, picking her up and hugging her. He never got tired of her enthusiastic greeting, although he told himself it wouldn't be that long until it was far less exuberant and the idea of her father hugging her each day would not be 'cool'. But for now she was still his little girl, still loved to be cuddled and swung around and tickled.

"Stop it, Daddy," she giggled, as his fingers found her ticklish spot. "Stop it." She wriggled in his arms, but at the same time clung tightly to him.

After another minute of tickling and hugging her, he put her down. "Where's Dr. Mallard?" he asked.

She smiled up at him. "He's still in the school room making my essay," she said. "I wrote about the Tudors and Stuarts. Did you know King Henry VIII had six wives?" She sound aghast and Jethro hid a smile.

"Yes, honey, I did."

"You won't have six wives will you, Daddy?" she put her head right back until her long hair streamed down her back and frowned at him.

"No, Kell. I won't. One was quite enough. Now talking of Stuarts, do you know what today is?"

She nodded. "It's Mrs. Stewart's birthday. But she spells her names differently to the other Stuarts, doesn't she?"

"Differently from, Kelly. I've told you that before."

Jethro turned and saw Ducky coming towards them. "Hey, Duck," he said, well aware of just how soft his voice had become.

"Good evening, Jethro," Ducky's tone was equally soft, and for a moment they just stared at one another.

"It's very hard to remember, Dr. Mallard," Kelly said, breaking the tableau.

"Well, I'll see if I can think of a way to make it easier for you, Kelly."

"Thank you." Kelly beamed up at him. Then she turned back to Jethro. "Are those for Mrs. Stewart?" she asked, pointing to the bouquet of Jethro had put on the table.

Jethro nodded. "Yes, Kelly. They are. Do you think she'll like them?"

Kelly nodded. "Oh, yes. Daddy. Can I - sorry May I," she glanced at Ducky, who nodded his approval, "give them to her, please?"

"Of course you can, honey." Jethro picked up the bouquet and handed them to Kelly, who took them and tried to hold it steady as it wavered slightly in her hands. "It's heavy," she said.

"It is rather. I'll carry it to the kitchen for you and then you can take it, okay?" Jethro took the bouquet back from Kelly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her catch Ducky's arm and she dragged him along with them.

"Happy Birthday, Mrs. Stewart," Kelly called, half running, half staggering into the kitchen and handing over the bouquet of flowers.

"Why, Miss Kelly, Mr. Gibbs, they are beautiful. Thank you, sir." She smiled at Jethro and bent down to kiss Kelly's cheek.

"Do you like them?"

"I love them, Miss Kelly." She smiled.

"Happy Birthday, Amy," Jethro kissed her cheek. "And this," he said, handing over the bottle of wine, "is for you and Henry to have with your meal tonight." He glanced at Ducky, who gave a small nod.

"Oh, I couldn't, Mr. Gibbs, you have already been more than generous. And Dr. Mallard insisted on preparing and cooking a meal for me to take home. And he's cooked for you all tonight as well. I've done very little all day."

"We can't have you cooking on your birthday, Mrs. Stewart," Ducky said firmly.

"So you take the wine and the food and the flowers, Amy, and off you go home and have a lovely evening," Jethro said, his tone also firm.

"Well, if you're really sure, Mr. Gibbs? Well, thank you. That would be very nice indeed."

"I am. Now come on, I'll give you a hand to get everything to your car."

"Oh, there's no - Thank you, sir."

With Kelly settled in bed with her book, Jethro took the opportunity to draw Ducky into his arms and kiss him. "Mmmm," he said. "I'm not sure I'm ever going to tire of kissing you."

"I assure you the feeling is mutual," Ducky said quietly, as he rested his head against Jethro's shoulder.

"I wish you'd spend the night with me," Jethro said, after another gentle kiss had been exchanged.

Ducky sighed. "I know you do, Jethro. But we're talked about it, have we not?"

Jethro sighed. "Guess so. Let's not argue," he added, nuzzling under Ducky's hair and gently nibbling his ear - Jethro knew it was one of his most erogenous zones.

Ducky moaned softly and leaned into the embrace even more. "I wasn't aware we were arguing," he said, after a moment or two.

Jethro gave a half shrug. "Let's have a drink, there's something else I need to ask, well tell, you."

Ducky pulled back and frowned. "Jethro? Is something wrong?"

Jethro shook his head. "No. Why do you think that?"

"It was just your tone."

Jethro hastened to reassure him. "Sorry, Duck. It's just . . . Let's have a drink."

Seated side by side on the couch, drinks in hand, Jethro felt the world rebalance on his axis. "There's a conference that I have to attend. It's an annual thing. Normally Kelly's at Shannon's, so it's not a problem. But with us switching her visits around so as not to interfere with you starting to teach her she'll be here. Plus, this year the date has also been changed, which adds to the mess - It's in three weeks time. I have to go, Ducky."

"And the problem is exactly?"

"Well . . ."

"You would like me to take charge of Kelly, I presume."

"Would you mind?"

Ducky looked at him. "Of course not. You did mention that was part of the terms of employment when you first interviewed me."

Jethro nodded. "Yeah, I know. But . . . I just thought it wouldn't occur. It'll mean you'll have to move in here while I'm away; it's only for five days, so four nights. You can have your pick of bedrooms. But you'll need to in effect be on duty the whole time. And there's something else."

"Go on."

"Well, would you mind having a temporary guardianship of Kelly? Just in case something happens to her. The conference is in Chicago and Shannon isn't just down the road."

Ducky looked at him. "Jethro, I honestly do not see what your problem is. Of course I do not mind. And in the past at Eton we had the odd boy who, despite rules to the contrary, did not have a next of kin nearby and so we had the same issue of temporary guardianship. Do you have a problem leaving your daughter in my care?"

Jethro glanced away. "No, I just - Oh, shit, Duck. I'll miss you both, that's all."

Ducky chuckled softly. "Ah, Jethro," he said, he leaned nearer and kissed Jethro lightly.

After enjoying the kisses and knowing he could go on kissing Ducky all night, Jethro pulled away a bit. "So the temporary guardianship is okay?" he said.

"Of course it is. But perhaps you'd be kind enough to explain quite what that means both as far as you and the law here is concerned."

"Simply put in case anything happens to Kell and she has to go to the hospital, you'd have the powers to do whatever was necessary without having to wait for Shannon or me to agree. It's a straight forward thing really, we'll need to go before a judge, but it's pretty much all a formality. I should have set it up earlier, with you being Kell's primary carer really -"

"Jethro. I -"
 

"No, Duck. You're here with her all day and everyday. And there are times you take her out. And if anything should happen - not that I'm saying it would. But you know how these things can and while you're a damn safe driver, not everyone is. So . . . It makes sense. But if it makes you uncomfortable, then . . ." Then what? Jethro wasn't sure.

Ducky shook his head. "No, of course it doesn’t. I guess I am just a little touched by the fact you trust me so much with your daughter."

Jethro just shook his head in bemusement. "Ah, Duck," he said, pulling Ducky back into his arms. "What am I going to do with you?" He knew exactly what he wanted to do to and with Ducky, but he knew that was not a viable option at the minute. So he instead restricted himself to kissing the man he knew he was well and was truly and deeply and lastingly in love with.

"So that's settled then?" he asked, when they again stopped kissing and just sat sipping their drinks.

"Of course. But have you not left it rather late? I would have thought these things would take time."

"In truth, yeah, but . . . As you may be aware," he grinned at Ducky. "I am a lawyer," Ducky obliging smiled at him. "So I do know the odd judge, and some of them are really odd! And it's not as though it's a full guardianship against the wishes of her parent or anything. So it'll be all right. We'll need to sort something more lasting out in due course, but for this short period, I can get it dealt with, I'm sure. Now, that's sorted, what are we going to do for the rest of the evening?"

"I really cannot imagine," Ducky replied, slipping easily into Jethro's 'game'. "However, I am sure we'll think of something."

"Reckon we will." And Jethro leaned forward and kissed Ducky.
 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"Do you think Daddy's there yet, Dr. Mallard?"

Ducky glanced at Kelly. She'd asked the question ten times already and hadn't settled to her work at all.

She had also excused herself to go to the loo so many times that Ducky had, when she returned from her third visit, had put his hand on her forehead and his fingers on her pulse. Nothing had been amiss, but given she hadn't been drinking more than normal her constant visits were a little worrying. He began to suspect she didn't need to go at all, and it was just an excuse not to concentrate on the work he'd given her.

His suspicion was confirmed when she suddenly stood up and clutched herself between her legs, something she never did. "I need to go to the bathroom, Dr. Mallard," she said, turning to go.

He caught her arm and held it. "No, Kelly. I don't think you do."

She stared up at him. "Yes, I do," she insisted. "I really do, Dr. Mallard. I'll wet myself if you don’t let me go."

He shook his head. "No, Kelly. I do not believe you will. Sit back down and get on with your work."

She glared at him. "I'll wet myself. I can feel it coming."

He looked at her. He hated to cause her distress, but running off every few minutes was not going to help her. "I do not think you will, Kelly," he repeated. "However, If I'm wrong, then I'll have to clean it up, won't I? Now sit down." He spoke firmly and forced himself to ignore the way he bottom lip was trembling.

She glowered at him, still holding onto herself, for another minute or too before sitting down heavily in the chair.

He watched her wondering just what would happen next. Wondering if, just to spite him, she would deliberately wet her knickers. She stared up at him and he saw her wriggling on her chair, then suddenly she looked away. "I'm sorry, Dr. Mallard," she said, her voice small.

Swiftly he glanced down at the floor, but there was no puddle. "Kelly?" he touched her arm.

"I didn't need to pee - none of the times. Well except the first," she added. "I just didn't . . ." She trailed off and again wriggled on her chair. Then she looked up at him again and her cheeks flushed. "Actually, Dr. Mallard," she said, her voice tight. "I really do need to pee this time. I need to badly, really badly." she added. "I - Ooh, please may I be excused?"

He believed her and nodded. "Go along, Kelly."

"Thank you." She slid off her chair and ran off at high speed out of the room.

He sighed softly as he watched her go and glanced at the almost blank worksheet. He gathered it up; there seemed little point forcing her to go on with it. Maybe once she knew her father had arrived safely she'd feel better. As he waited for her to return, he realized he was still learning just how close father and daughter were.

A minute or two later she trotted back into the room. "Are you all right?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes, thank you. I am sorry, Dr. Mallard. I just miss Daddy." Tears began to well up in her eyes.

Ducky put his arm around her shoulders. "I know you do, Kelly. And I know normally you are with your mommy when he goes away."

"I like being with you," she said quickly, looking up at him and scrubbing her eyes with her sleeve. "It's not that, it's just . . . I don't know where he is."

Ducky had an idea. "Come along," he said, taking her hand. "We'll get the large atlas out and see if we can work out where Daddy might be. And then," he added, pleased to see she was already smiling. "How would you like me to tell you a story?"

Her smiled widened. "Oh, yes, please, Dr. Ducky," she said. "What kind?" Her eyes were now bright. And then, before Ducky could say anything, she added, "A ghost story!"

He thought for a moment. "Well," he said.

"Oh, please, Dr. Ducky. Not that I believe in ghosts," she said quickly.

"Do you not?"

She shook her head. "Anyone who does is silly." Then she clamped her hand over her mouth and looked up at him from under her fringe. "Do you believe in ghosts?" she asked, her tone apprehensive.

Ducky smiled. "Well now, Kelly. I have never seen one, but I know many people who I would consider to be rational and completely 'unsilly' who swear they have seen one, or at least felt a presence. I try not to dismiss things without proof they do not exist."

She continued to look at him and he could see her brain trying to work out how she could stick to her belief, but also conform to his - as she had a wont to do. Suddenly she smiled and said. "You tell me a story and I'll tell you if it's silly."

He laughed gently. "Are you sure a ghost story won't give you nightmares?" he asked.

Now she rolled her eyes as he'd seen her do many time before and sighed. "I am eight, Dr. Mallard," she said firmly. "I don't get nightmares." 'I am eight' was one of her current favorite phrases, used about anything she thought it was scornful for a girl of her age to be asked.

"Not even with your daddy away?" Ducky asked gently.

Just for the briefest of seconds he saw her hesitate. Then she shook her head firmly and said, "No. Because you're going to show me where Daddy is."

And for the next twenty minutes the poured over the atlas with Ducky tracing out the route he knew Jethro and Tobias, who was also going to the conference, had taken. He had been a little surprised when Jethro had told him they were driving rather than flying, but it certainly made his job and calculations easier. "I think that Daddy and Uncle Tobias will be here," he said, pointing to a place on the map.

She shook her head. "No. Daddy drives quicker than that, I think they'll be here," she pointed a little further on. "Ooh, unless they've stopped for coffee. Daddy likes his coffee. Do you think they'll have stopped for coffee, Dr. Ducky?"

"I would think there is a high probability that that have, Kelly," Ducky said, rather amused by the switching from 'Dr. Mallard' to 'Dr. Ducky'; he wasn't sure whether Jethro would approve, but maybe she'd stop the latter before her father got home.

She nodded sagely. "Me too. In that case, you're right. They're about here," she pointed to the spot Ducky had pointed to. "Good. So how long will it be before they get where they're going?"

Ducky looked at his watch. "Bother," he said.

"Dr. Ducky?"

He shook it and tapped it, but nothing happened. It was wound up, he did it last thing at night and remember doing it last night, but just in case he checked it. No, it was fine. He sighed softly. It had been an eighteenth birthday present from his parents.

"Dr. Mallard? Are you sad?" A small hand was slipped into his.

He looked at her. "I think my watch is broken," he said.

"Can we mend it?"

"I'm not sure, Kelly. It is quite old. But we'll see."

She bit her lip and put her head on one side. Then he saw her smile as an idea popped into her mind - he knew the look well' he saw it a dozen times a day. "Ooh," she said, letting go of his hand and running out of the room. "Wait there."

"Kelly." But she'd gone.

Seconds later she was back, a watch in her hand. "It's Daddy's spare one," she said, pushing it into his hand. "He won't mind if you borrow it."

He looked at it and swallowed. 'Spare' wasn't quite how he'd have described it. It was a Rolex, and clearly a very expensive one. He started to say, "Kelly, I really don't think -"

But she was relentless. She took it from him, fiddled with the strap of his own watch, tugged that off and slipped Jethro's onto his wrist. "Daddy would want you to borrow it," she said firmly. "I know he would." She frowned and crossed her arms.

In the end it seemed easier not to get into a long debate with her - more than once he'd come out of one aware that he might have won, but that it had been a very close 'battle'. When he'd told Jethro about the experience he had simply laughed a knowledgeable laugh. And it wasn't as if he was going to damage the watch. Plus -

He stopped that thought. For heaven's sake, he was fifty. His - The man he spent time with, the man he kissed, the man he knew he shouldn't be kissing, the man he'd got used to seeing every day, of spending time with every day was away for a few days. He shouldn't feel so bereft. But he did. He shook himself and looked at Kelly who was watching him carefully. "Thank you, Kelly," he said, adjusting the strap. "I'll take good care of it."

She beamed. "Good. Now story."

He just looked at her. "Story?" he said a little firmly.

She frowned for a moment, and then realization appeared on her face. "May I have a story, please," she said.

He smiled at her. He could see why there were times when Jethro, despite being a good parent, a firm parent, was maybe not quite as firm as he should be. There was something dangerously engaging about Kelly Ann Gibbs. About her father too a little voice said; he chose to ignore that.

"Very well, shall we go and sit in the sitting room and get comfortable?"

She took his hand, something she did quite often, he still wasn't completely certain it was the 'right' kind of behavior, that he should be allowing his tutee to hold his hand. However, she'd done it often in front of Jethro who hadn't been bothered, so Ducky tried not to over-analyze things too much. "Come on then," she said, tugging him along behind her.

He sat in what, when Jethro and he weren't alone, had somehow become 'his' armchair and Kelly sat on the floor cross-legged at his feet, on a bean-bag, gazing up at him expectantly. She liked sitting on the floor and spent most of her non-school room and non-eating time either sitting or sprawled out there.

"This story is a Scottish story, set in Aberdeenshire. Do you remember where Aberdeenshire is?"

She nodded. "On the right of Britain, nearish to the top. You used to live there with your mommy. Do you still miss her, Dr. Ducky?"

He nodded. "Yes, Kelly, I do."

"Do you believe she's in heaven?"

Ducky swallowed. Religion, heaven and hell and beliefs had not arisen in the few months he'd been teaching her. Looking back it was a question he should have asked early on; as it was, he didn't know. What were Jethro's feelings? What did Kelly believe? Jethro didn't go to church and Ducky had never heard Kelly saying her prayers. She did have a Bible and a children's book of Bible stories and a small gold crucifix, but a lot of people, even those who had no beliefs had those things. He didn't feel that now was the time to get into a discussion about the subject; he would raise it with Jethro upon his return.

He was just about to say something when she spoke again. "Is it like ghosts?" she asked.

"Kelly?"

"You don't miss it without proof it's not there."

"Dismiss it," Ducky corrected. And then nodded. "Yes, Kelly, I think that sums it up nicely.

"Good." She stared at him again with her waiting look on her face.

"As I said it is set in Aberdeenshire and it dates back to the eleventh century."

"The ten hundreds," she said quickly.

He smiled. "Indeed. And the story was passed down from person to person through generations, in the way stories used to be shared before books were common."

"There was a time when books didn't exist?" Kelly was aghast.

Ducky smiled. "Yes, and also a time when you needed to be very wealthy indeed to own them. And even then they weren't story books."

"Daddy's wealthy."

"Yes, Kelly. I am aware of that."

"You are too, aren't you? You have to be, you had two houses." She left it as a statement rather than a question and Ducky let it go at that.

"Well there was this ruined tower."

"How had it got ruined?"

"Lightening had struck it. And the story goes that it was believed there to be great treasure inside."

"What kind of treasure?"

Ducky sighed to himself; he wondered just how long it would take to tell the story. "Well, now, Kelly, that is part of the story and part of the legend - no one knew."

"How come?"

"Well, that is what I'm going to tell you."

"Oh, okay." Now she leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees and leaned her chin on her hands - it looked very uncomfortable to Ducky.

"However, people were told never to try to steal the treasure as something dreadful would happen to them." Kelly opened her mouth and quickly closed it again. "And no one knew exactly where the treasure was as the tower was quite large and had many possible hiding places, not only on the ground but also in niches in the walls."

"What's a niche?"

"It is a small enclosure that is set back or indented." She frowned, but then nodded. "But at full moon it was said the light shone through part of the roof and lit up where the treasure was hidden. And so despite all the warnings men would try to steal it."

"Only men?" Kelly demanded. However, before Ducky could answer she went on. "I bet ladies were too sensible. They listened to the warning. Don't you think so, Dr. Ducky?"

He stopped himself from laughing at the earnest look on her face. She was obviously not aware that having in effect insulted Ducky's own sex, she was now looking for confirmation of the insult. He said, "As far as legend goes, it was only men. Many had tried and failed, but there were a group of three brothers, and they were certain they would be able to go inside, find the treasure and survive. They believed they knew why others had failed."

"How?"

"Apparently the others who had tried had either gone alone or in pairs. The three brothers believed that if they all went inside, then one would always be able to keep watch and warn the others if anything appeared. They also didn't believe, like you, in ghosts and monsters, they thought it was all a joke, a story put together to keep people away. So they made their plans and on the first night of the full moon they took some large sticks and lamps and off they went."

"What happened?" Kelly's eyes were wide as she stared up at him.

"Well, they went inside and there was the light of the moon showing up a niche in the wall, it was about a quarter of the way up, much higher than any man stood. But they could see it glinting and shining, and they knew they had to have it. Apparently it grew cold, very cold, very cold indeed and everything fell silent."

"You said it was in the open countryside?"

Ducky nodded. "But the night, the countryside, is never silent, Kelly."

"Isn't it?"

He shook his head. "Oh, no. Nature is noisier than man made things. But this night turned still and quiet. No foxes barked, no owls hooted, no small animals crunched twigs. There was nothing."

"Were they frighted?"

He didn't correct her; it was one of her pet words and he knew that she knew the correct word. Instead he nodded. "Yes, they were, but none of them would admit it. They decided how they were going to climb up. Two of them would climb, the third would keep watch."

"What were their names?" Kelly suddenly asked.

Ducky blinked. "Um, Edward, Arthur and George, I believe. I don't know who did what, Kelly, so you needn't ask." She looked at him, surprise evident on the face; he had admitted to not knowing something. The look told him he had just shaken her world a very small amount. "As well as the heavy sticks and lamps they had taken with them, they also had pick axes and believed they could use these to help them make other niches in the wall to climb up. One of them reached behind him for one of them and," he paused and took a sip from the glass of water he had brought with him.

"Go on. Go on, Dr. Ducky. Please," she added, now moving from sitting crossed legs to kneeling.

Ducky took another sip of the water and smiled at her. "It had gone," he said.

Her eyes widened. "Gone?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Gone gone or just moved gone?"

"At first they thought it had vanished totally, each blamed the other. Each thought the other was playing a trick or that one or two of them were in league to get rid of the third. They argued, but then they saw it. It was lying against the wall on the other side of the tower. A place they all swore they had already searched." Kelly's eyes were now almost impossibly wide and she was hanging on Ducky's ever word. "Well, one of them, we'll call him Edward, it is easier, decided that he wasn't going to risk anything. So he told both of his brothers to stand well away from him and he positioned them so they could watch him and each watch part of the tower and also still see one another. Once he'd arranged them to his satisfaction he began to use the pick axe on the wall."

"And . . . And . . ."

"I'm just coming to that part, Kelly. Be patient. Well, Edward was smashing into the wall and suddenly he was touched."

"Touched?"

Ducky nodded. "Yes, on the shoulder. He turned around quickly, but to his disbelief neither Arthur nor George were anywhere near him. And they were both staring at him as if he -"