Ashleigh Anpilova


Set several years after A Myth.

Gibbs finds Ducky's book.

A Gibbs-centric gen story.

Warning: Major character death mentioned.

Written: January 2012. Word count: 500.



Gibbs let himself into Reston House. The house felt cold, empty, quiet, unloved. It felt as if it owner was never going to return.


"Ah, Duck." Gibbs swallowed hard and wiped his eyes. His old friend wouldn't want him to grieve, but he couldn't help it. Ducky's friendship had been the one solid thing in his life for the best part of twenty years. Now that solidity had gone.


Mercifully it had been quick. One month he'd been given the diagnosis, the next he was taken from them. That last month had been spent as Ducky wanted to spend it: with those he loved.


It had been a happy month and he'd slipped away peacefully surrounded by the people who meant the most to him, one hand held by Gibbs, the other by Abby. His last words to them had been 'Do not grieve for my, my dears. Instead be happy in the knowledge you all brought me more love and contentment than any one person could ever hope for'.


Of course none of them had 'obeyed'. Tears slipping from his eyes, Gibbs had looked up to see tears falling from everyone's eyes. As he looked at the grief being shown, Gibbs knew more than one present hadn't truly realized how much Ducky had meant to them.


All the kids and Tobias had offered to accompany Gibbs. However, Gibbs had declined all offers; it was something he had to do himself before the Ducky-arranged-gathering where Ducky's lawyer would share the details of Ducky's will with those Ducky had cared about.


Gibbs was the major beneficiary and Executor of what was, given how wealthy Ducky had been, a remarkably simple will. Apart from the specific bequests, Ducky had left everything to Gibbs outright to do with as he wished.


Pausing to start the Grandfather clock he trudged up the stairs to Ducky's study and went across to the safe. Once more he was acting on instructions left by Ducky before he'd died.


"Well I'll be . . ." he said, when he saw the bound papers. He pulled them out. "Ah, Duck, why didn't you tell me you'd written a book?"


He took it across to Ducky's desk, poured himself a whiskey, turned to the dedication page and read.


This book is dedicated to the people I love.


Abigail, Jimmy, Timothy, Ziva, Anthony: my children. May your lives be as fulfilled as mine was.


And to my dearest, closet friend: Jethro. May you one day find again true love and happiness.


Gibbs swallowed hard, again wiped his eyes and began to read.




Gibbs didn't know much about books or publishing, but he did know was that the book he held in his hands was brilliant. It had to be published. People had to read Tales of Dr. Donald Mallard: Medical Examiner. And he knew exactly who could help him.


He grabbed the book, downed the last dregs of whiskey and hurried down the stairs; suddenly the house no longer seemed cold, empty or quiet.




A Myth


Opinion Sought

In Tim's Opinion

All Sewn Up