The Bonds that We Save: Chapter One
~NCIS~
“How was your last test?” Gibbs said, putting the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he could continue to look for the file he needed.
He smiled at the enthusiasm in Tim’s voice as his son told him all about his last day of school. Gibbs was hoping that he and Tim could go camping in the month before summer school started back up. He hadn’t had a chance to take Tim to his favorite camping and fishing spot yet, the one his father had taken him to when he was young. He wanted to create new memories with his own son.
Gibbs finally found the file he was looking for, so he sat down and fully focused on what Tim was saying. It had been four days since he had seen him face to face. Their current case involved a admiral’s son who had died making a drug deal. At first it had seemed like a cut and dried case, but thanks to the doctor’s down at Bethesda it was discovered that although the drug dealer had shot Jason Henderson, the shoulder wound inflicted was survivable. He had actually died due to arsenic poisoning that had built up in his system which had left him in a weakened state. So they ended up delving deeper into the familial dysfunction that was the Henderson family. Apparently, Jason’s stepfather Harry Lewis was planning on being the sole beneficiary of the admiral’s will. After testing the Admiral Henderson’s blood, it was discovered that she had been poisoned as well. The levels of arsenic in her blood wasn’t as high as her son but it was high enough to be concerning.
Up until earlier this afternoon, all they had was conjecture, but now that they had Admiral Henderson’s blood test behind them, they had applied for a warrant, and they were just waiting on the judge’s approval.
As Gibbs listened to Tim talking about the movie that Ducky was taking him and Jude to tomorrow, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret. It was supposed to be him taking the boys to the movies, but with the Henderson case taking up more and more of his time, he knew even if he they managed to arrest Mr. Lewis this evening, the paperwork alone would make sure he would be pulling an all-nighter and working well past time to go to the theater. So he had called Ducky earlier today and had asked if he could take them. His friend had been more than willing to take the boys, even had shown some enthusiasm to see the latest superhero movie with them. Gibbs couldn’t help but think that Jude going to live with Ducky had been a good thing for both of them.
Hearing Tim yawn for the third time, he admonished his son to go to bed and said he would call him tomorrow morning before the trio left for the theater. After saying goodbye, Gibbs gently placed the receiver in the cradle, once again wondering if he would ever get the balance between work and his home life correct. Picking up the post it note next to the phone, he saw it was time for his weekly call to Fornell to find out if he had new leads on Shea or Cathy McGee. They were a constant nagging worry in the back of his head. He knew the Shea situation wasn’t over, and he was worried Tim would be used as a pawn again to find Cathy. Then there was Tim’s mother. She was like a bad penny that was just waiting to turn up and turn Tim’s world upside down again.
Just as his thoughts were circling in on themselves, he saw Tony step off the elevator and hold a white piece of paper above his head. The warrant. Gibbs reached for his gun and badge. “Grab your gear it’s time.”
~NCIS~
Moving his arm as the IV pinched the inside of his elbow, Gibbs shifted uneasily, trying to get comfortable as he waited for time to pass, replaying over and over in his head how he had ended up in Bethesda hospital. They had been at the Henderson house all of ten minutes and were about to arrest Mr. Lewis when everything had gone to hell. Admiral Henderson did not take too kindly to learning that her husband was responsible for her son’s death. She had calmly walked over to her desk, pulled a gun, and point blank shot Mr. Lewis. Gibbs, who hadn’t believed the Admiral capable of such an act, had been caught off guard. Then, in the effort to keep her from finishing Mr. Lewis off, Gibbs had stepped in-between the two of them and had caught one bullet to chest and one to his upper arm for his trouble. Thankfully, he was wearing his vest at the time, or he wouldn’t be here.
Gibbs rubbed his eyes then gave up on even pretending to sleep. Pushing the button on the side of the bed that slowly raised it, Gibbs gingerly shifted about until he could sit up comfortably. When he had first arrived, he had tried to argue with the admitting E.R. doctor that he didn’t need to stay overnight, but a very harried Ducky, who had showed up shortly after he had, convinced him that even though the bullet had only gone through the fleshy part of his arm, there was still a risk of infection. So Gibbs had been promised that his situation would be reevaluated this afternoon but in the meantime he had been hooked up to an IV that would pump him full of antibiotics.
The morning sun was just peaking over the horizon when he heard voices out in the hallway that he recognized. There was a light knock at the closed door before it was pushed open, and Tim and Jackson walked in. As Tim stood next to his bed, Gibbs could see the distress behind his stoic expression. His eyes were glassy, as though he was holding back tears, but his face was blank.
“Hey, I’m okay,” Gibbs reassured him. Tim just nodded and took in a deep, uneven breath.
Seeing how tightly his son was trying to hold himself together, Gibbs just said, “Come here.”
Tim sat next to him on the bed and gently wrapped his arms around him. Gibbs felt a twinge of regret that he had distressed his son. Gibbs hugged Tim as tightly as he dared and gave a heavy sigh, catching his father’s eye, he reassured Jackson silently that he was okay. His father gave a nod and sat heavily down in the hard plastic chair next to the bed. Gibbs couldn’t help the whisper of worry that went through him when he saw Jackson warily rub his eyes. His father looked worn out. Essentially, Jackson had taken care of Tim by himself for almost a week. It had been a long couple of days for the elderly man ferrying Tim back and forth to school, and getting the early morning phone call that his son had been shot couldn’t have helped matters all that much. Thanks to how active his father was, sometimes Gibbs forgot Jackson was in his late seventies.
When Tim eased back he looked more settled but Gibbs could tell he was still shaken. “The doctor’s think that I will be able to leave later today,” he said in a reassuring tone.
“Okay,” Tim said in a rough voice. “Did the doctor say how long you will be laid up?”
“It’ll only be a couple of weeks for the wound in my arm to heal. But I will probably only be off work for a few days and then be on desk duty. So don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” Gibbs said trying to comfort his son but Tim only gave a tight smile, so he assumed the information wasn’t as reassuring as he was hoping.
“Okay,” Tim said. He opened his mouth as though to say more, but then there was a knock at the door.
Seeing the doctor enter with chart in hand, Tim backed up until he was standing next to his grandfather.
“Hey Tim, why don’t we give your father and the doctor a minute and see if there is any good coffee in this place?” Jackson said.
The doctor, whose name was Gregson, just shook her head with a grin, and said, “Good luck with that I have worked here for ten years, and I haven’t been able to find a decent cup yet. Your best bet would be to go to the café across the street, they make the best black coffee. Plus they have sinfully delicious Danishes. If you’re hungry?”
“You didn’t have breakfast this morning, did you, Tim?” Jackson said, getting up slowly with a grimace.
Tim placing a hand out in case Jackson needed it, but when Jackson got to his feet, he dropped it and, clearly torn about going, looked at Gibbs. “I haven’t, but…”
Gibbs jumped in when Tim’s sentence tapered off. “Go get something to eat. These things always take time. Especially with all of the damned paperwork,” Gibbs said before glancing at the doctor. “No offense.”
The doctor gave him a rueful smile and said, “None taken.”
Tim nodded, and giving his father a small wave, he followed his grandfather out of the room.
~NCIS~
Gibbs was reaching for his shirt when he caught his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He had a bandage on his upper arm that Dr. Gregson said he would need to change once a day but it was the bruise over his heart that made him pause. The bruise was large and almost black in color. It was a direct shot. If he hadn’t been wearing his vest, he would be dead. Brushing his fingers over the darkest part of the bruise, he allowed himself to think about what this morning would have looked like for his family had the worst happened. More than likely Vance, Tony, and Ziva would’ve gone to his home and broken the news to Jackson and Tim. Closing his eyes, Gibbs tried to block out the image of what his father and son would’ve looked like receiving the news of his death. His father would be shocked but maybe not surprised given his line of work, grief stricken but trying to remain strong for Tim’s sake. Tim would be devastated but he would try to be stoic. Whenever his son got emotionally overwhelmed he retreated within himself.
What would their life look like after?
The house would go to Jackson of course. Would Jackson stay in Washington or go back to Stillwater? Gibbs’ death benefits and Jackson’s retirement would go a lot farther in Pennsylvania. Since Gibbs had received a judgment of full custody, that would pass to Jackson, but what would happen if Jackson became ill or if looking after Tim became too much for the elderly man? Or what if Cathy showed up and demanded custody, or at the very least made trouble for his two remaining family members?
The bruise had served at least one purpose: It showed him how fragile Tim’s current way of life was. With Gibbs gone, so many things could go wrong. He needed someone who would be able to support Jackson and Tim if necessary. Someone he trusted. Someone Jackson trusted. And maybe most importantly, someone Tim would trust and look to when he needed help. One person immediately came to mind. That’s if he would be amenable to the suggestion.
Hearing a knock at the door Gibbs said, “Come in,” as he carefully thread his arm through his sleeve. When Tony walked through the door, Gibbs couldn’t help but think it was fate.
“Hey boss,” Tony said with a wince when he caught sight of the bruise. “Vance wanted me to catch you up to speed about the Henderson case, and rather than call, I thought I would come by and see if you or your family needed anything.”
Gibbs started buttoning up his shirt as he chewed on his thoughts for a moment. Tony and Tim had been through a very traumatic experience together, and ever since then Tim looked to Tony like he was an uncle or an older brother. So Gibbs was pretty sure Tim would be able to trust DiNozzo enough to go to him with his worries and problems. “Actually, Tony I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment.”
Tony forehead scrunched a bit in concern. Gibbs only called him by his first name when he wanted his undivided attention. “Sure boss.”
“I wanted to ask you something, and you are under no obligation to say yes. In fact I want you to think long and hard about it before you give me an answer. No matter what your answer is it will not affect our relationship, personal or working. Okay?” Gibbs held Tony’s gaze to ensure the younger man understood.
He watched Tony swallow nervously, before he nodded.
“Being shot has made me hyperaware of how fragile life is and especially how fragile Tim’s current way of life is,” Gibbs started off before pausing to gather his thoughts and then coming to stand next to Tony. “If something happened to me, Jackson and Tim would be alone in this world. I know the team would try to be there but legally it would just be the two of them. So I was hoping that you would agree to be Tim’s guardian if anything happened to me, and if Jackson was no longer able to care for my son. That you would take care of him, guide him into adulthood, and be there for him beyond that. Also to protect him should his mother ever return and try to get her hooks into him again.”
Tony let out a loud breath. “I don’t know what to say boss. Are you sure I am the right person?”
Gibbs turned towards him fully, placing a hand on his shoulder in a firm grip. “You have grown so much since I first knew you all those years ago back in Baltimore. You are kind, wise, loyal, and affectionate. Plus Tim and I already see you as family. There is no one I would trust more with Tim than you.”
Gibbs paused for a long moment to let what he said sink in before continuing. “I meant it when I said I want you to think about it. Okay?”
Tony nodded and said, “Okay.” Then he cleared his throat and told Gibbs about what happened to Admiral Henderson after Gibbs had been taken to the hospital.
~NCIS~
Tim opened the front door and held it open for his father and grandfather. His grandfather looked outright exhausted, and Gibbs was walking a bit stiffly. Tim was worried about the both of them. His father always seemed like one of the superheroes that he read about in his comics, but being hurt like he had been had shaken Tim’s picture of him as an invincible superman. So he was determined to take care of him as much as possible. Plus, he wanted to make sure Jackson got some rest as well. His grandfather had seemed especially worn out this past week.
He took his father’s and grandfather’s jackets and hung them up. Tim could hear Ducky and Jude talking in the living room.
But it was what he spied on Gibbs arm that had Tim rushing over in concern. “Dad your arm!”
Gibbs looked down at the growing blood stain on his sleeve. “Damn I hit it on the door when I was getting out of the car.”
Ducky ushered him over to the couch. “Here, Jethro, let me take a look at that.” Ducky sat on the coffee table and helped Gibbs remove his button down long sleeve shirt and push up the sleeve of his white undershirt.
“The bandage needs to be replaced. You’ve bled through it,” Ducky said in a low tone almost to himself before he looked up and asked Jude, “Can you get my bag from the hall? I brought it just in case.”
Jude quickly returned placing the black medical bag on the coffee table next to him. Ducky carefully cut the bandage off revealing a row of stitches that looked bloody but still intact. “At least you didn’t tear any of the stitches out.”
Nausea hit Tim so he turned away from the sight of his father’s injury as he felt the pastry he ate this morning raise up his chest into his throat. Quickly but silently, he left heading for his room.
He heard, “Jude, can you hand me the roll of gauze …” float up the stairs behind him before he was out of ear shot. Shutting the door quietly behind him, Tim tried to count to ten, tried to distract himself, but it was already too late. His heartbeat was out of control, he could hear it in his ears, and he felt a cold sweat break out over his skin. Next thing he knew, he was kneeling on the bathroom floor next to the toilet doing his best not to puke. Tim had known his father had been shot, but seeing it for himself had shaken him. He could’ve lost his dad last night. The harried phone call yesterday evening would’ve been the last time he talked to his father.
As his breathing and heartbeat settled down, Tim felt shame, anger, and despair roll through him. The despair was because he had been hopeful that he had seen the last of them but apparently not. The shame was a familiar feeling, the anger was because he was supposed to help his father while he was injured, and here he was being his usual useless self, curled up on his bedroom floor rather than downstairs.
Tim forced himself to take in a deep breath and slowly let it out. If he didn’t get back down there, his father would know something was wrong and come looking for him. His dad didn’t need the added stress of Tim’s anxiety rearing its ugly head. He was being a burden. He needed to be helpful. Pushing himself upwards until he was standing on shaking legs, Tim staggered to the bathroom sink and splashed some water on his face.
Glancing at his reflection, he saw he looked … okay, not great; he was pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes, but hopefully they would chalk it up to him being tired.
Trying to be as quiet as possible, Tim made his way back downstairs. He rounded the corner and was grateful to see that everyone was still focused on his father. Ducky was just finishing Gibbs’ dressing, Jude was handing Ducky what he needed, taking it back when the doctor was finished, and placing it back into the medical bag. Jackson was sitting on the couch and watching the procedure with a concerned look on his face.
He thought he was home free until Gibbs met his gaze, and then he knew at least one person had noticed his absence.
Tim quickly glanced away, saying nervously, “Does anyone want some tea?” as he slowly walked backwards towards the kitchen.
Ducky slowly stood up, and said with a happy lilt to his voice, “Yes, please.”
Tim swiftly left the room.
~NCIS~
Two years ago
He was so cold. The hotel room where they were staying had a heater but it was broken. His mom and her new boyfriend Liam were out. Tim was sitting in the dark unable to sleep, but he couldn’t turn on the light because his mom had forbidden it. Her reasoning was she didn’t want anyone to know he was alone. Tim was only ten years old, and they would get in trouble if the authorities were called. He had wrapped himself in every thin, itchy, blanket that there was in the room, but to no avail: He was still shivering. Tim had found sitting curled up was warmer than lying down, so he was in the chair next to one of the beds when he heard the key turn in the lock.
Looking up in relief, Tim was disappointed when only Liam staggered through the door. His disappointment turned to worry when the obviously intoxicated man took off his jacket and fell on the bed.
Tim walked over to the door and peeked his head out, looking both ways down the hall. Not seeing his mother, Tim went over to Liam.
Nervously shifting his weight from side to side, Tim finally worked up the courage to ask nervously, “Where’s my mom?”
Liam didn’t even move, and in fact he started to snore. Tim didn’t know the man all that well. His mom had only been with Liam Thomas for a few months. What Tim did know didn’t make him want to know him any better. Liam was a drug user and since he had been with his mom her addiction to drugs had gotten worse. Plus, when Liam got angry he had no problem smacking his mom around. So far he had pretty much left Tim alone, but Tim figured it was only a matter of time.
His worry for his mom pushed pasted his fear of the violent man. “Hey! Where’s my mom?” Tim said loudly, giving Liam’s shoulder a good shake.
When Liam sat up abruptly, Tim took a couple steps back, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste.
“What the fuck do you want?” Liam shouted at him as he pushed his hair off his face.
“My mom. Where is she?” Tim said, his voice shaking as Liam swung his legs off the bed and planted his feet on the floor.
Liam reached for the cigarette pack on the night stand. Taking one out, he slowly lit it, squinting at Tim through the smoke. “How the fuck should I know? Last I saw of her, she was tripping in an alley down the block. She didn’t want to come back, so I left. It is too cold to be hanging around outside.”
Tim grabbed his jacket, and put it on quickly. Then he snagged his backpack. He was determined to go look for his mom. His hand was on the door handle when he heard Liam say his name. Tim turned around.
Liam took another slow drag off his cigarette and said with a snarl, “Tim, I have something to say, and I want you to listen real careful.” He stood and took a couple of steps towards Tim, until he was standing right in front of him, and asked, “Are you listening?
Tim nodded, barely able to hear him over his increasingly panicked breathing and pounding heartbeat. He pressed his back against the door to stay as far away from Liam as possible, but the man kept inching forward, crowding into his personal space. Unable to meet Liam’s gaze, Tim stared at the carpet. He was trembling as he realized that at that moment, he was completely at Liam’s mercy.
Liam leaned over him until Tim could feel his breath against his ear. “You ever talk to me like that again, I will beat you within an inch of your life. Understood?” Liam said, his voice flat emotionless, but full of deadly promise.
“Yes,” Tim whispered as tears gathered in his eyes.
Time seemed to stand still as Liam continued to lean over him; the only sound was Tim’s loud breathing as he started to hyperventilate. Then Liam let out a harsh laugh, causing Tim’s whole body to jerk in terror. The man then sauntered over to the bed and sat down. Liam grabbed the remote and turned on the television.
Tim fumbled for the door knob behind him. He was panicking, and barely able to think. Finally he was able to turn the handle and jerk open the door. With his heart racing a mile a minute, Tim escaped into the cold winter night.
He had run halfway down the block, before he realized two things: One, Liam was not following him so he could stop running, and two, he had no idea where his mom actually was. Liam had mentioned an alleyway so Tim started to check the alleys as he passed them. It was hours past midnight-thankfully the streets were mostly deserted-but it was difficult to see anything as the alleys were in a very run down part of town so there were multiple streetlights out. Even those lights that worked didn’t reach into the alleys, therefore Tim was forced to check each one.
Tim had just decided to turn around and try the other side of the hotel, when he spotted a hand lying on the alleyway ground behind a dumpster. Tim quickly ran forward and then knelt down next to his mother. She was pale, her hair was partially covering her face, her eyes were half open, staring at nothing. She looked dead. He reached out with a shaking hand, pressed his fingers against her neck, and with a heavy sigh, he sagged in relief when he felt a pulse.
“Mom,” Tim said gently, shaking her shoulder. When he got no response, he tried again, relieved when she moaned softly before she opened her eyes.
“Tim?” she slurred out.
“Yeah mom, it’s me,” Tim said with a thankful smile.
The smile fell off his face as her eyes widened, and she made a choking sound. Tim quickly rolled her over on her side. Swallowing down his own nausea, Tim pulled back his mother’s long hair as she emptied the contents of her stomach on the ground. When she was finished, Tim rolled her back onto her back as she breathed out harshly, her breath fogging up in the cold night air.
A shiver racing up his spine, Tim said, “Mom we need to go back to the room. It’s too cold to be out here.”
“Tim?” she said again, confusion in her voice.
Tim eyes filled with tears. “Yeah mom, it’s still me. Please we have to go.”
“We can just stay here. I’m too tired,” she said before she closed her eyes again.
“No, we have to go.” Tim paused as he heard raucous laughter and two men talking further down the alleyway. “It’s not safe. We have to get back to the room.”
“Just give me a minute, please Timothy,” his mother begged, her eyes still shut, her head lulling to one side.
Tim sat there for an indecisive moment but then took in her outfit which was only a short skirt and a tank top with a lightweight jean jacket, and knew his mother needed to get out of the cold. Especially as Tim was worried that with the drugs she had in her system, she could get really sick or even die before morning came.
Grabbing her under her armpits, Tim pulled her up until she was sitting with her back against the alleyway. She immediately started to slide sideways, but Tim propped himself next to her as he tried to catch his breath. His mom was tiny in stature, but Tim was still smaller than her, and he would need all his strength just to get her back to the hotel. But first, he needed her conscious.
Getting back to his feet, Tim squatted down in front of his mom and shook her shoulder this time saying in a firm voice, “Come on, mom, we have to go back.”
“Tim …” she said, but then she trailed off, squinting up at him. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to take you home,” Tim said, his voice breaking. “Please … mom, just help me.”
“Okay baby,” Cathy slurred, still looking confused as to what Tim wanted from her.
Tim pulled lightly on her arm until she got the hint and started to try to push herself upwards. It took three tries before Tim was able to get his mom on her feet. When he finally did, she almost immediately fell back over, but he slung her arm around his shoulder, and with him supporting most of her weight, they slowly made their way down the street.
It took them almost a half-hour to shuffle back to their hotel room. By the time they reached their door, Tim was exhausted. His mother had been getting heavier the longer they kept walking, and Tim knew that if they fell over, he would not have enough strength to pick his mom back up again.
Finally, they stumbled through the door. Liam was surprisingly still awake, and the television was blaring loudly.
He briefly glanced at them, a look of disgust on his face, and said, “She smells like puke. Put her on the other bed.” Then turning back to the television, he growled out in disgust, “She’s sure as fuck not sleeping with me.” Then he increased the volume on the television and continued to smoke his cigarette.
Tim was now practically dragging his mom across the room. When they finally reached the bed Tim tipped her forward and managed to get her on the mattress. Cathy immediately closed her eyes and passed out. Tim had never felt so tired, but he knew he couldn’t leave her lying on her back, because if she vomited again, she could choke on it. So he rolled her onto her side, and placed pillows behind her back to keep her there. Then he took the wastepaper basket and moved it next to the bed in case she needed it.
Staring down at his mom, Tim felt a wave of nausea wash over him before he bolted to the bathroom as the events of the night caught up to him. He shut and locked the door, and then turned on the shower to muffle the sound of his uncontrolled sobs as tears ran down his face. His mind raced back to the brief couple of seconds when he had honestly thought his mother was dead. He had never been more scared then he had been in that moment. Tim sat heavily on the floor and slowly rocked himself back and forth, trying to stop crying but unable to.
~NCIS~
Present
Tim stared out his bedroom window as the sun peeked over the horizon. His journal was on his lap. He could hear the next door neighbor playing the piano. Seventy year old Mrs. Diaz would play the piano for a half an hour every morning, rain or shine. She said she liked to greet the day with music, plus her husband would request a song, and then would sit and listen and break out in applause when she was done. Her piano was in her living room, and Tim could hear the notes as they drifted up from the open window.
Unable to sleep, he had been looking over his old entries and he had been drawn to the entry that he had written over two years ago, when he had almost lost his mom and had his first panic attack all in the same night.
His father’s close call with a bullet had thrown him more than he cared to admit. Tim had known in an abstract way that his father’s job was dangerous and that he could be hurt or killed. But to actually have it happen had made that abstract idea become frighteningly real.
He took in a deep breath and blew it out. Tim was also shaken by the panic attack he had had last night. It had been his first one in six months. He was disappointed. Tim wanted his anxiety, Dr. Patterson, and his attacks to be behind him.
Tim stood abruptly, feeling claustrophobic all of a sudden. He needed to take a walk, to be outside. The house felt too small. Quickly getting dressed and grabbing his jacket, Tim quietly went downstairs, not wanting to wake his grandfather, who needed his sleep after such a long week. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was only around six in the morning. He grabbed an apple from the bowl and a granola bar from the cupboard. Tim stuck the bar in his pocket and took a bite from the apple. Grabbing a pen from the junk drawer, Tim quickly scrawled a note to his father and grandfather.
Once he finished his note, Tim started to have second thoughts. Taking off in the early morning had never been a big deal when he had been with his mom. As long as he was back before they woke up (usually around noon), then he wouldn’t be in trouble. His father though wouldn’t be happy to have him just leave a note and take off, even if he was back before he woke up. But he really needed to exercise off some of his anxiety. Tim felt completely strung out right now.
“Hey Tim. What are you doing up?”
Turning, Tim felt nothing but relief at seeing his father standing in the kitchen doorway. He was more than happy to have that decision taken away from him. “I couldn’t sleep, and so I wanted to take a walk,” Tim said, crumpling up the note in his hand and throwing it away, hoping his dad wouldn’t ask about it.
Gibbs glanced at the clock before whistling softly. “A bit early, isn’t it?”
Tim rubbed the back of his neck while avoiding his father’s gaze, not really wanting to get into his reasons. Finally, Tim just shrugged.
“Give me two minutes to grab my shoes and jacket, and I’ll join you,” Gibbs said. “Why don’t you leave your grandfather a note telling him where we’ll be? Wouldn’t want him to worry, would we?” Gibbs said with a wink.
Tim felt the heat rise in his face. He couldn’t help but huff out a laugh at Gibbs’ words, before he picked the pen back up and rewrote the note.
~NCIS~
They walked the three blocks north to their local neighborhood park. It was a great open area with a rather large play structure on the southwest corner that was butted up against a small bus stop. The rest of the park was lawn and large old oak and pine trees. They found themselves alone as they walked through the dew-kissed grass. Their shoes were getting damp, but neither minded as they enjoyed the peacefulness of the early morning and each other’s company.
Tim would’ve been content to keep the comfortable silence, but he noticed his father almost unconsciously place a hand on his chest. Feeling guilt well up in him that his dad was out in the cold morning air because Tim couldn’t keep his shit together, he said, “Are you sure you are well enough to be out and about?”
Gibbs dropped his hand immediately and said, “My chest is a little sore, but after being cooped up in the hospital and at home, I really needed this walk. Thanks for letting me tag along.”
Tim shrugged. “Sure.” He felt the creeping edge of an uncomfortable conversation entering into their companionable silence.
“So why couldn’t you sleep?”
Tim wanted to shrug off the question, but when he took his eyes off the sidewalk, he saw his father’s concern. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened to you.”
Gibbs’ nodded, “I’m sorry that you were so worried. You could’ve come and talked to me.”
“I know, but you have enough to deal with. I should be able to handle this on my own.”
Gibbs carefully placed an arm around his shoulders. “Family is about being there for each other. You are never a burden.”
“Well, maybe I am just tired of being defective,” Tim murmured, under his breath unable to help himself.
“What do you mean by that?” Gibbs asked, stopping and turning towards Tim.
Tim, who had stopped as well, started walking again. After moment, his father kept pace beside him. He regretted his words immediately-not the actual words, just that he had said them out loud- so this time, he did shrug, letting the silence lengthen between them.
They were nearing the playground when out of the corner of his eye he saw his father open his mouth as though to speak, and Tim felt a sense of dread steal over him. Before Gibbs could speak, he was interrupted by a low whine coming from behind the slide.
Tim, who was more than happy to avoid the conversation, jogged towards the sound. Rounding the slide, he saw a small German Shepherd puppy tied to the lowest rung on the ladder with a rough nylon rope. Tim kneeled down next to the pup and he was immediately set upon. The dog overjoyed at the turn of events, started jumping up in excitement and licking his face. Tim couldn’t help but laugh, and Gibbs even gave a chuckle at the dog’s antics. Petting the puppy in an effort to get him to settle down, Tim couldn’t help but notice that the rope was starting to cut into the dog’s neck.
“Dad, look …” Tim had to shout a bit because a bus left the bus stop behind them. He showed his father how tight the rope was.
Gibbs looked at the knot on the back of the puppy’s neck before saying, “Keep a hold of him. I’ll have to cut the rope.”
Tim pulled the puppy onto his lap. Gibbs grabbed his pocket knife, and he then carefully cut the rope off.
“Why would someone just leave him tied up here?” Tim asked, slowly standing whilst trying to keep his arms around a very wiggly puppy.
Gibbs ran a hand over the puppy’s head, and gave the dog a good scratch behind the ears. Before he said, “I honestly don’t know. Let’s get him home. If he’s been here overnight, he’s probably cold and dehydrated.”
As they started to walk back home, Tim could barely take a couple of steps before the puppy would turn in his arms and lick his face, causing Tim to giggle.
Gibbs, smiling widely, said, “He seems like a handful. Do you want me to carry him?”
Tim, mindful of Gibbs’ recent injury, just shook his head, and started wondering how his father felt about dogs.
~NCIS~
Once home, they were greeted by a sleepy Jackson, who had been woken up by the sound of the puppy barking. Then, while Tim and Jackson were filling a bowl with water and rummaging through the fridge for something suitable for a dog to eat, Gibbs called Ducky.
Although the MD grumbled that he was not a vet, he did come over with Jude. Ducky did a quick examination of the dog’s neck, and concluded it would heal in a few days. Although healthy, the pup did smell up to high heaven, so Jude and Tim had taken the dog upstairs to use Tim’s bath to wash the excitable German shepherd.
Ducky, Jackson, and Gibbs were sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and listening to the shouts and giggles from upstairs as two teens tried to bath a very rambunctious and enthusiastic pup.
“If you take the dog to the vet, they can check to see if the little guy is chipped or not. His owner may be looking for him. If he wasn’t the one to abandon him, that is,” Ducky said.
“I’ll call around sooner rather than later, before Tim gets too attached,” Jackson said, getting up and heading for the living room phone.
Hearing another burst of laughter, Gibbs smiled. “It may be too late.” Then the smile slid off his face and his son’s words floated through his mind.
Seeing Gibbs sudden change of mood, Ducky asked, “What’s wrong, Jethro?”
“Something Tim said. He was really shaken up by my being shot. I think he had another panic attack, but he won’t talk to me about it … he called himself defective,” Gibbs said, running one hand through his hair.
“Jethro, working through all the ramifications of what Tim has been through is going to take time, even with the help of Dr. Patterson. You know he has been diagnosised with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and General Anxiety Disorder; both are serious long term conditions. They can be managed, but they won’t disappear completely, and there will be setbacks,” Ducky said, gently laying a hand on Gibbs’ forearm.
Sighing, Gibbs patted Ducky’s hand and then stood and poured himself some more coffee, “I guess, I assumed the longer he went without having a panic attack the less likely he would have one.”
Sitting back down, Gibbs asked, “How can I help him, though? How do I get him to talk to me?”
“Just be there for him. You two have grown much closer. I do believe in time, he will talk to you,” Ducky said before taking a sip of tea.
Gibbs nodded he knew Ducky was right but he wished he could fix this for his son. “Thanks, Duck.”
Gibbs was about to ask how Jude was doing with his prep for his GED test when he heard a shout of quick, catch him above them.
The sound of a wild chase taking place in the second story had both men rising to their feet just in time to see a wet German Shepherd and two drenched teenagers with towels in their hands stumble down the stairs and into living room.
Gibbs and Ducky shared a look before they started laughing and joined in the chase.
Chapter Two