I'll be Home for Christmas
For the first time since McGee had joined Gibbs' team, they had Christmas off. Not just Christmas, but two full weeks. They were banned from entering the squadroom until after the first of the year. Apparently a lecture from the staff psychologist about the dangers of burnout combined with a memo from HR about the amount of hours the team had accumulated over the year were enough to force Vance to take such strong measures. Tony had already left for Acapulco for two weeks of working on his tan and Abby had taken Ziva with her to experience a New Orleans style Christmas. Tim's bags were packed and in the car as he snuck into the squadroom to pick up the iPod he had left in his desk the day before.
He came to a halt as he came around the corner and saw Gibbs at his desk, staring at his phone with a lost expression on his face. A voice could be heard still on the phone, so he leaned over to listen in. Once the call ended, Tim took the phone out of Gibbs' hand and hung it up. When the older man didn't react, Tim took charge.
"He's going to be okay, Boss. You heard the Sheriff, it's just a mild concussion and I'll have you there real quick." McGee floundered for a moment trying to find an excuse to be away from Gibbs for a few seconds to make a quick call, then he saw the trash can half full of paper cups. "Boss, why don't you hit the head while I shut down your computer and then we'll get on the road."
It was a testament to how shaken Gibbs was that he didn't argue, just meekly stood and walked towards the restroom. As soon as he was out of earshot, Tim was on the phone to Ducky.
"Ducky, listen, it's McGee. Jackson Gibbs was beaten in a robbery a few hours ago. I'm driving the Boss up there in a few minutes, and I was wondering if..."
My goodness, I'll meet you there, Timothy. Do we know how badly Jackson was injured?
"Just that he has a concussion and some fractured ribs and is at the hospital in Bloomsburg. Thanks, Ducky. I know it's the holidays, but I'm sure the Boss would feel better if you were there to double check that the local doctor didn't miss anything."
Of course. I'll load some supplies in the car just to be safe and then I will be on my way.
As they talked, Tim shut down Gibbs' computer and grabbed the iPod that he'd been after. After a stop in the evidence garage and then at Gibbs' car for the overnight bag he kept there, they were on the road. They were crossing the border into Pennsylvania before Gibbs registered that McGee was driving him home.
"McGee, what are you doing?"
"I'm driving, Boss. I realize that it's not quite as exciting as when Ziva drives, but at least I'll get you there in one piece." As hoped, it got a slight smile from the other man.
"I mean it McGee, you're supposed to be on your way to your Uncle's place in Ohio. Stillwater is a long ways in the wrong direction."
"Don't worry about it. This is more important. Beside, you'll need help with the investigation and running the store until your dad's back on his feet."
Gibbs couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Your family's expecting you."
"My parents will understand. Besides, my sister has a bet going with our cousins about whether or not I'll make it. If I don't show up, she'll get enough to pay for her books next term. You'll be her hero when she finds out."
His smile grew a little wider. "Anything to help your sister, McGee." It was only a few minutes before Gibbs was again lost in thought. "God, I can't believe this is happening again." He hadn't meant to speak out loud and hoped McGee didn't hear him.
"Your dad's store's been robbed before?"
Gibbs couldn't understand why the words kept tumbling out of him. "I was thirteen when my mom was shot in the head because she couldn't get the register open fast enough."
"That must have been rough." McGee thought about it and ventured a guess. "It must have brought back a lot of bad memories when Kate was killed."
He hadn't realized how perceptive McGee had become over the years. Kate had fallen flat onto her back, arms spread, when Ari had shot her. He had found his mother in the same position that horrible day. Gibbs rubbed at his face, as if he could rub the memories away. "God, I wanted him to sell that damn store after she died."
"They ran it together, right? The two of them and your dad's friend."
"Yeah. Jackson and LJ went in together and bought it so they could get out of the mines. It was her dream to have the store."
McGee had heard pieces of the story when they had been in Stillwater the first time. "Walking away from the store after she was killed would have been like walking away from her memory."
Gibbs thought about what he had said. All of his family memories were centered in that small store. His mother standing at the register, his father chopping kindling to sell during camping season, both of them helping an out of work neighbor feed his family until work picked up again. "Yeah, I think you're right." He looked out the side window, watching the telephone poles go by for a minute before turning back to his traveling companion, resting a hand on Tim's arm. "I don't say it very often, but thank you. Giving up your family vacation to help my dad, it means a lot."
###
They were arriving in the nearby town of Bloomsburg before Ducky's Morgan was visible in the rear view mirror and Gibbs gave McGee a questioning look. Tim shrugged as he confessed.
"I told Ducky what happened. We thought you'd be more comfortable if he kept an eye on your dad while he's recovering." McGee saw the sign for the hospital and carefully changed lanes, his turn signal telling Ducky what lane to be in. "Besides, this is the first holiday since he had to put his mother in the nursing home; I think he's a little lost at home by himself."
Gibbs wasn't sure what he had done to deserve such good friends, nor was he sure exactly when McGee changed from being just an agent on his team to being a good friend, but right now he was just grateful to have him there.
Once at the hospital, Ducky went to track down the doctor in charge of Jackson's case while McGee spotted the Sheriff in the waiting room, allowing Gibbs to visit his father in private.
"Hey, Jack, how are you feeling?" Gibbs studied his father's face, noting not only the bruises but the lines that had not been there the last time he'd seen him.
Jackson blinked in the harsh light until Gibbs turned off the overhead light. The bedside light was more that enough to see by. "Jethro, that you?" His words were slightly slurred and slower than usual. "Didn't want them to bother you, son."
"No bother at all, Dad. You get some sleep, alright? We'll talk after you've rested." Once Jackson stopped fighting it, he was asleep in seconds. Gibbs smoothed out the blankets and watched him sleep for a moment before joining McGee out in the hall.
The Sheriff was nowhere to be seen, but McGee was walking towards him with two cups of coffee. Gibbs gratefully took the cup that was offered. "What did you find out?"
"Our old buddy, Gantry, claims that it was a basic robbery." McGee didn't look at all convinced so Gibbs waited for him to continue. "He also said that the store was a mess. Since when does a robbery include trashing the place?"
"You think it was personal?" The very thought made Gibbs sick to his stomach.
McGee clearly wasn't happy with what he had to say. "I think we shouldn't rule it out. Considering how the townsfolk took to our evidence gathering the last time, I should probably get to your dad's store and see what I can find before they clean it up."
Gibbs was torn between his duty as son and his duty as an investigator. "It's sealed, right?"
"Sealed and a deputy is watching the place." He knew exactly what his boss was thinking. "I'll be fine by myself, you should stay here with your dad."
Relieved and guilty both, Gibbs nodded and watched McGee walk away, noticing once again how his weight loss made his shoulders look broad. Ducky came down the hall from the opposite direction, ending that train of thought.
Knowing this wasn't the time for a story, Ducky came straight to the point. "He's very lucky, Jethro. I would classify the concussion as moderate rather than mild; other than that I agree with his doctor's diagnosis. The cracked ribs will limit his mobility for a while, as will the strained knee. If it weren't for his elevated blood pressure, they'd release him from the hospital today. Both Dr. Graham and I feel that he should be watched closely until his blood pressure is back under control. With any luck, your presence here will help him to stay calm." He reached out and took Gibbs' arm. "Come along, Jethro, I told the doctor that you wished to speak to him.
###
Spotting the deputy parked across from Jackson's store did not make McGee feel any more comfortable about the situation, but McGee did wake the kid up to let him know that he would be processing the scene. When he saw the badge that stated 'cadet' rather than deputy it did answer a few questions, but raised even more. "So, you're a cadet for the Sheriff's Department?"
"Yes, sir, it's my senior project."
"Senior project? You're still in high school?" Looking around at the people watching him, Tim suddenly wished he'd waited for Gibbs. "All right, you maintain the exterior of the crime scene while I start to process for evidence."
"Huh?"
Tim forced down the desire to beat his head against the wall. "Stay out here, don't let anyone in without my permission and don't shoot me when I come back out."
"I don't have a gun, mister."
"Perfect."
"How long is this going to take? I gotta be at basketball practice in four hours."
"I'll try to hurry, kid." McGee let out a deep sigh as he stepped through the broken door. Only for Gibbs would he be doing this, he thought, as he stepped over a puddle of maple syrup on the floor.
###
Gibbs shook Dr. Graham's hand when it was offered, but his mind was back all those years ago, the last time he'd seen this doctor. Jethro may have only been a child to the people that ignored him that day, but he'd never forget the man that told them his mother had died quickly, hadn't suffered as she lay on the floor, to be found by her only child. To have him now tell him that his father would be fine with some rest and monitoring, was only slightly better, at least until he was absolutely sure the man was right.
"Why is his blood pressure so high?"
"Agent Gibbs, your father is not a young man and I'm sure this was a very upsetting experience for him. I'm sure that after he calms down, his numbers should return to the normal range."
Gibbs didn't bother to remind the man that his father was not some doddering old man who was easily frightened. "And if his numbers don't return to the normal range?"
"Let's not borrow trouble, shall we?"
Knowing Gibbs was well as he did, Ducky stepped in to mediate. "If his blood pressure is still elevated by tomorrow, we will start looking at other causes, wouldn't that be a correct assessment, Dr. Graham?"
Dr. Graham gave a wan smile. "Of course, Dr. Mallard, but as I said, let's not borrow trouble. Like I told you, the most likely cause is the stress of this unfortunate incidence."
After Dr. Graham left to return to his duties, Ducky steered Gibbs towards the cafeteria. "Ducky, I'm fine. I don't need anything to eat."
"Perhaps not, but when your father asks you if you've eaten, you'll be able to ease his mind by saying yes." Ducky smiled, knowing he was going to win this round. "Come along, Jethro, I hear they have a delightful pot roast on the menu today and I've always been curious about what exactly is in a shoofly pie."
###
McGee groaned as he straightened. He'd run out of evidence bags hours ago and was now using bags and tape from the store to hold evidence. He'd managed to lift some pretty good prints from the canned foods that were thrown in the attack and hopefully they would be matched to somebody already in the system.
He had reached Fornell earlier in the day and managed to talk him into allowing them to use a nearby FBI lab to process the evidence. He'd found enough plywood to cover the broken windows and door to keep the store secure for the night. All he had to do now was to load all the evidence into his car and get it back to Bloomsburg, where an agent would meet him. He was glad to be done, the cadet had left already for his practice and it was getting dark and cold out. Tony would tease him if he knew how spooked Tim was getting, but there was something off about the town today. It was a twenty minute drive back to Bloomsburg, and he wouldn't relax until he was there, but he did breathe a sigh of relief as he left Stillwater. Intent on navigating the unlit country roads, he didn't notice the truck that pulled out of a side street several blocks behind him with its headlights off.
###
Mindful of his father's blood pressure, Gibbs kept the conversation on safe topics as he spent the afternoon with him, snorting when he was able to tell him that yes, he did eat. Jackson was thrilled to hear his son tell him he would be there through the holidays. It had been many, many years since the two men had been in the same state over Christmas, let alone the same town. When Ducky joined them and the two older gentlemen started swapping favorite Jethro stories, Gibbs made his escape blaming the need for coffee. Ducky and Jackson grinned at each other, not believing him for a second, before returning to their tall tales.
Coffee in hand, Gibbs sat in the waiting room and tried McGee's phone. He stared at his own phone in shock as McGee's went straight to voice mail, indicating that it was off or out of range. Jackson had bragged a few months earlier that they had received another cell tower in the county, so he couldn't imagine that his agent was out of range.
Before he could try the call again, Gibbs heard his name being called from the doorway. A tall, balding man stepped into the room repeating the call. "Agent Gibbs, are you in here?"
"I'm Gibbs." He recognized the typical FBI stance and coat and alarm bells went off in his head. There was blood on the man's sleeve. "What's happened to McGee?"
"I'm Agent Dayton with the FBI." Dayton felt like laughing, McGee had told him Gibbs would know before he could say anything. Unfortunately, the situation didn't call for laughter. "Agent McGee is downstairs in the emergency room. He's all right." Dayton rushed to explain when he saw the look on Gibbs' face. "He's getting some stitches, other than that he's fine."
"What happened?"
"He was bringing in the evidence from the attack on your father when somebody ran him off the road. They started to approach his vehicle, but he fired a warning shot and they backed off. My partner and I arrived a few minutes later. We maintained the chain of custody for the evidence and brought Agent McGee here to be checked out." Report complete, he waited for Gibbs to respond.
Instead of a verbal response, Gibbs headed straight for the emergency room, needing to see McGee himself. Dayton scrambled to keep up with the other man, giving more detail in the elevator. "My partner was on the phone with Agent McGee when the suspect's vehicle first rammed him. We were just coming into Bloomsburg so we were able to locate him fairly quickly."
They were on the first floor and Gibbs felt much more in control now that they were moving. "Any leads on Agent McGee's attackers?"
Dayton rushed to keep up, wondering how someone at least three inches shorter than him could move so much faster. "Not really, sir. We have some paint transfer on Agent McGee's car and some tire tracks. It looks like tires from a large truck or SUV. They had their headlights off, so Agent McGee wasn't able to tell much."
The small hospital only had nine exam rooms in their emergency department, and it was a pretty good guess that the one with another FBI agent standing guard was the one holding his man. Gibbs didn't even acknowledge the agent or the nurse as he stormed in.
"Tim, are you all right?"
Dr. Graham was finishing the last stitch when Gibbs arrived. After clipping the thread, he stepped back to allow Gibbs to see his injured man.
"I'm fine, Boss."
"Doc?"
"He's fine, Agent Gibbs. Five stitches on his scalp and a slightly strained shoulder. Feed him, put him to bed and he'll be right as rain by morning." Graham was tired, if Gibbs and his people were going to be around for a while, he needed to schedule some more staff for the emergency department. "He'll be ready to go in about half an hour."
"All right." Gibbs made some quick calculations in his head. "I'm going back upstairs to say goodnight to my dad and then we'll get a motel here in town."
McGee started to shake his head and then thought better of it. "Boss, we really should be back in Stillwater tonight. Something is going on there."
"Not tonight, McGee. Besides, it's not like we have a car anymore, right?"
That made Tim wince. He was not looking forward to dealing with the insurance company over that one. Renting was an option, of course, but not this late at night. Dayton's partner closed his phone and came over with the answer. "Agent Fornell has authorized us to hand over an agency car while you continue your investigation, since it now ties in with one of ours."
"Ties in how?" Gibbs could think of a lot of ways, and none of them good.
The other agent handed him a file. "Agent Miller, sir. Agent McGee asked our lab to run the fingerprints first. He was right, we got a hit on an active case. Kenny Clayton, runs with a gang we've been after. They're moving large quantities of drugs through the valley, but we can't find where they're holed up. It's possible your father stood up to them and that's why they attacked him. I understand that he's still recovering, but we'd like to interview your father in the morning."
Gibbs flipped through the file quickly, not liking what he was seeing. This was a gang that was suspected in everything from drug manufacturing to murder. They were not a group he wanted his dad to take on. "You can talk to him if his doctor agrees and only if I am present. Is that understood?"
Fornell had warned them. "Understood, Agent Gibbs."
Graham though about reminding everyone that he was the doctor of record of both patients and he as right there, but Gibbs had glared at him, scaring him into silence. Despite the bossiness of the man, or perhaps because of it, Graham found enough backbone to chase everyone out of the exam room. "I want Agent McGee to rest for a few minutes before I do a final check on him. Everybody out. Agent Gibbs, visiting hours will be over soon. This would be a good time to check on your father."
"Son, what's wrong?" Jackson knew immediately that something had happened. Ducky was just a little slower on the uptake.
"Jethro, heavens, what has happened?"
Gibbs fell into the nearest chair rather than sitting in it. "McGee was on his way to meet the FBI with the evidence from the store when somebody ran him off the road. He's downstairs in the emergency room."
"Good grief, how badly is he injured? Ducky was already on his feet, in alarm.
"He's all right." Gibbs felt a flash of guilt for alarming the two men. "Bumps and bruises, a few stitches and some muscle damage in his shoulder. He's lucky, it could have been a hell of a lot worse." Lucky wasn't even close. Agent Dayton had told him that the wrecker was still working to pull the Porsche free. "The doctor wants him to rest tonight and he should be fine by morning."
"Are they admitting him?" Jackson was already planning on convincing the nurses to put the young man in his room so he could keep an eye on him.
"No." Gibbs rested his elbows on his knees. "They're releasing him in a few minutes. Since he's totally convinced we need to be in Stillwater tonight, I guess we're heading there as soon as the doctor is finished with him.
"It will be a rather tight squeeze in my Morgan with the three of us, but I suppose we'll manage." Ducky's smile was forced and a bit brittle, but he was ready to stand his ground and not let Gibbs drive his car.
"Fornell arranged for us to have an agency car." Gibbs watched closely, waiting to see how his father would react. "Apparently, one of your robbers is a suspect they're chasing." When Jackson didn't look surprised, he continued on. "The FBI agents will be here in the morning to interview you, but don't worry, I'll be with you the whole time."
"Is that really necessary, Jethro? I told Ed everything I remember."
Gibbs was not going to be dissuaded. "Dad, they tried to kill a federal agent today to cover up what they're doing. It's a little beyond what Ed can handle."
"I suppose you're right, son. It's just a hard thing to accept that real crimes have come to our little corner of the world. All right, I'll tell you and the FBI everything that's been going on, but tonight you worry about taking care of that boy of yours."
Ducky used that as an excuse to give father and son some time. "I'm going to go downstairs and check on Timothy."
Once the door closed behind Ducky, Jackson started playing with the edge of his blanket. "I'm sorry Tim got hurt because of all this, Jethro. He's a good man."
"You're right, he is a good man, but none of this is your fault."
It had been a long time since he'd seen that half smile on his son's face and Jackson decided to be adventurous. If it didn't work, he could always blame the medication. "How long have the two of you been together?"
It took Gibbs a second to add up the years. "McGee's been on my team for about six years now."
"Not work, son. You and Tim."
Gibbs blushed, a feat his team would have thought impossible. Ever since the time he was sixteen and his father caught him in the barn with Aaron Wilson, Jackson had been understanding of that side of him. "No, Dad, we're not. It's strictly work."
"Then you're a damn fool, boy, and I didn't raise a fool." Jackson raised up on one elbow to look his son in the eye. "He gave up the holidays with his own family to drive you home. He apparently spent the day tracking down who attacked me so you wouldn't have to. Ducky tells me he's planning on taking care of the store until I'm back on my feet so you and I can spend time together. Those are acts of love, Jethro, not how a man treats his boss. Now, have Ducky stay here in town and you take Tim back home and take care of him tonight. You'll see that I'm right."
"Are you playing matchmaker?"
"Nope, I'm reminding my only son that's it's okay to take a second chance at love." Speech over, Jackson laid back down and allowed Gibbs to pull the blankets up around him. Gibbs bent down to whisper in his father's ear.
"Thanks, Dad, I love you."
###
Tim had suffered through more lights shined in his eyes in the last two hours than he had in the last two years, but he sat patiently as Ducky gave him one more examination. Eventually even Ducky was satisfied that he was all right. "Well, Timothy, you seem to be a very lucky young man, but I want you to take it easy for a few days. No doubt you are going to be feeling the affects of your little adventure in the morning. Now, I am going to stay here in town tonight, so Jethro doesn't worry about his father, while he takes you to Stillwater to rest." Actually, the two matchmakers had other reasons for Ducky to stay out of the way tonight, but this was a much better story.
If McGee hadn't been so tired, the investigator in him might have picked up on something, but at this point, all he cared about was crawling into a bed somewhere. "Thanks, Ducky."
As he walked in, Gibbs gave the Medical Examiner an odd look, wondering how Ducky had known Jackson decided that, since he'd been here with McGee at the time. Deciding that he really didn't want to know, he focused on McGee instead. "You ready to get out of here?"
"Yeah." Tim swayed as he stood, but both Gibbs and Ducky were there to catch him.
"Ducky, are you sure he's all right?"
Trying not to smile at the not so subtle fussing, Ducky reassured Gibbs. "He's fine, Jethro, just exhausted. Come on, I'll walk the two of you out to the car." Gibbs had Tim tucked tightly against him as Ducky followed behind. Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, Tim heard the discussion about the morning interview with the FBI, but he didn't comment.
Once in the car, Gibbs followed the familiar roads back to his hometown. Since he'd left home, Stillwater had become a bedroom community for Bloomsburg, but the roads were unchanged. Spotlights and several wreckers indicated the scene of the accident, and Gibbs pulled over to examine the scene personally. McGee didn't stir as the car came to a stop.
Gibbs flashed his badge as he climbed over the tape and scrambled down into the dry gully McGee's car had landed in. Dayton hadn't mentioned how much paint transfer there had been, but the multiple scrapes of black paint on the back and side of the Porsche showed how many times he was hit before the obviously larger vehicle had forced him off the road. Gibbs stopped in his tracks as he saw the damage on the driver's side. A large tree branch had impaled the car through the windshield before tearing a hole through the center of the driver's seat. The blood stains gave him a pretty good indication of how Tim had twisted and thrown himself across the center console and passenger's seat to survive the impact. It took a few deep breaths before Gibbs was reasonably sure he wasn't going to lose it. He'd always worried about Tim's reflexes, but his survival showed just how honed those reflexes had become. A member of the wrecker crew came up to him, breaking his train of thought.
"This is your agent's car, right?"
Gibbs nodded, not yet trusting his voice as he continued to stare at the once pristine sports car. Not picking up on the stress, the young man continued. "Do you want the luggage from the back? I heard he was pretty bloody when he was taken out; he probably wants clean clothes."
Another nod, and a pile of bags appeared at his feet. Gibbs threw the two duffel bags over his shoulder before picking up the suitcase and the bag of presents McGee had been taking home to his family. A family that wasn't even aware how close they came to losing him today. He returned to the borrowed car and dumped the bags in the trunk before looking in the window at his sleeping agent. McGee was draped across the back seat, on his right side. His left arm was supported by a sling to ease the strain on his shoulder. At this angle, he could better see that both his jacket and the collar of his shirt was soaked with drying blood.
Deciding to let the other man sleep, Gibbs pulled away from the scene with a gentle acceleration, determined to not disturb his rest. It was a short drive and soon he was pulling into his father's driveway.
"McGee? Tim, can you walk?" Gibbs leaned into the car and helped him sit up. Tim blinked slowly as he tried to get his bearings.
"Yeah, sure."
Totally unconvinced, Gibbs stayed within arms reach as he followed McGee up the stairs. He opened the door to his old room, but McGee had other ideas. "I need a shower first."
"I'm not so sure that's a good idea." Gibbs thought about offering to wash the blood off his neck, but he was too unsettled to trust himself.
Remembering from his last visit to Stillwater, Tim lumbered down the hallway towards the small bathroom. "I'll never be able to sleep like this."
"Just a quick rinse, Tim. I don't think you're going to stay upright for much more than that." The weak nod he got in return told him he was right. Gibbs stayed in the hallway outside the bathroom door until he heard the water turn on. Once he knew McGee was safely in the shower, he returned to the car to get their bags.
Dropping the suitcase and the two duffel bags on the bed, Gibbs quickly dug through Tim's to find him something comfortable to sleep in. He was pretty sure that a t-shirt would be difficult to pull on right now, so he settled for a pair of sweatpants and made one last trip downstairs to kick the heat up a notch. He returned upstairs and tapped once on the door before letting himself into the bathroom.
Standing at the sink, a towel wrapped around his waist, McGee didn't immediately notice his arrival and Gibbs was able to study him in an unguarded moment. The stitches, barely noticeable through his water darkened hair, he knew about. The scattered bruises were not a surprise. What made his blood run cold was the painful looking scrape along Tim's left arm. Gibbs immediately knew just how close McGee came to being skewered along with the destroyed car. By its own volition, his hand reached out and brushed the raw and angry looking mark.
Startled, Tim looked up and his eyes met Gibbs' in the mirror before he turned to face the older man. Gibbs hand slid up to cradle the side of Tim's face. "I almost lost you today."
"Gibbs..."
The breathless moan of his name was almost Gibbs' undoing. He stepped closer and pulled Tim's head closer so their foreheads touched. Still cradling Tim's face, his thumb brushed the swollen lip while with his other hand, he reached around and stroked up and down Tim's back. "Gonna take care of you, Timmy."
His injured arm didn't move much, just enough for his hand to stroke against Gibbs' belly, as Tim shifted closer. When a woman called him Timmy, it always struck him as childish, but hearing Gibbs whisper it with such need lit a fire in his core. The thumb against his lip stopped what he was going to say.
"Not until you're recovered. Let's get you in bed." Gibbs smiled at the sparkle in the other man's eyes. "Alone, I won't risk hurting you." Any doubt he had about waiting were dashed as he watched McGee limp out of the bathroom. He got a good look when Tim dropped the towel and he helped him into the sweatpants, but he kept his touch as clinical as possible. A moan from Tim weakened his resolve and Gibbs reached into the fabric for a quick squeeze. "I'll make it worth the wait, Tim. Right now, you need to recover."
Tim had never seen this tender side of Gibbs. "I'm all right. If I wasn't, they wouldn't have released me from the hospital."
"I saw the car." Gibbs froze, he hadn't planned on mentioning that to McGee until he was more mobile, but it was too late now. He bent down and kissed the scrape on Tim's arm. "If your reactions had been a second slower, you would died in that gully. You would have died before I could ever tell you how much you mean to me." To cover up how close he was to breaking down, he pulled the blankets up around Tim as he shifted to lay slightly on his right side. An extra pillow was put to use as support for the damaged shoulder.
"This was your old room?" Tim deliberately changed the subject to give Gibbs a break. "All the fantasies I've had of being in your bed, this wasn't quite what I was expecting." He reached out and interlaced his fingers with Gibbs'.
Not wanting to pull away, Gibbs settled onto the floor, content to watch as Tim drifted off to sleep.
###
The morning sun reflecting off the snow covered ground made the room bright and cheery when Tim woke the next morning. A note reminding him that Gibbs was sitting in on the interview with his father and admonishing him to take it easy until he got back was propped up on the nightstand. Smiling at the worry, Tim carefully sat up and took stock of how he was feeling. Once he was convinced that nothing was going to fall off, he climbed out of bed, determined to get the store back up and running before they brought Jackson home from the hospital.
###
Gibbs leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his cheeks in frustration. The tiny burg of Stillwater had been at the mercy of this gang for weeks now. Their lab was believed to be in a building about twenty miles out of town on an abandoned farm. Technically it was out of the jurisdiction of the local sheriff, but close enough that their path to sell their drugs took them through Stillwater. The nearby towns had been overwhelmed by the crime wave themselves, and no help was available for the small village The timid citizens and overwhelmed police force made Stillwater an easy target. Only a few people had stood up to them, led by Jackson Gibbs.
One of the agents brought in a map and Jackson was able to point out where he suspected the gang members were hiding. Gibbs didn't ask to be included in on the raid, but when he followed the agents out of the hospital, they didn't stop him.
Putting on a FBI vest seemed wrong, but Gibbs hadn't thought to bring his own from DC. Apparently understand his need to be actively involved, the agent in charge of the raid, Agent Willet, reviewed the options with him before making a final decision on the breakdown of the raid. Since he wasn't part of the FBI team, he and Dayton were paired up with two more agents on the far edge of the farm. Luckily, several gang members made a break for it. Even luckier, as far as Gibbs was concerned, they resisted arrest.
He happily shoved his suspect into a chair in the state police office the FBI had taken over. While a Trooper and several FBI agents observed from the other side of the mirror, Gibbs set about learning all there was to know about the group that was manufacturing Meth near his hometown.
###
Ducky arrived at the hospital with the morning paper, two cups of coffee, and two take out breakfasts from the restaurant across from the hospital. Jackson was awake and waiting for him. "Are you sure it worked? I haven't gotten any calls from the neighbors complaining about the noise last night."
Jackson accepted the coffee as Ducky reminded him of his son's temperament. "Timothy was rather banged up last night. I'm sure Jethro was more concerned about taking care of him. Now, let's see if we can have a proper breakfast before one of the nurses comes in with the pitiful excuse for food they try to con their patients into eating."
Since the next day was Christmas Eve, the two new friends settled in to plan a festive dinner. If their plans worked out, they would have something to celebrate.
###
"Say, Agent Gibbs, you any relation to that old fart with the store? Old man just didn't know his place, ya' know?" The junkie didn't know when to shut up, but he started to understand when Gibbs grabbed him by the throat and dragged him across the table.
"Yeah, that old man is my old man, hotshot. You picked the wrong old man and the wrong town to mess with." Nose to nose, he waited for the punk to blink. It wasn't a long wait, and then Gibbs shoved him back into his seat.
Bravado was a hard thing to give up. "You can't treat me like this, I got rights. You FBI guys have to follow the rules."
"Wrong agency, dipstick." Still looming over him, Gibbs pulled out his badge. Just a quick glance was given; enough to show that it wasn't an FBI badge, but not long enough to read the initials embossed into the metal.
That got his attention as the suspect started looking around. "What do you mean, wrong agency? Who are you then?"
"I'm the guy that chases terrorists, and I caught you. Do you know what that means?" It was easy when they were this stupid.
"Umm, no?"
Gibbs leaned over and whispered in his ear. "It means that no one is going to bat an eye when I put your sorry ass on a transport to Gitmo where you will have no rights whatsoever. Now, where is your boss? Where is Kenny Clayton?"
The realization that he was now playing with the big boys took the wind out his sails. "He was going back to Stillwater to take care of the old man."
Gibbs slammed his hands down on the table and stormed out of the room. Dayton met him in the hallway. "Your dad's still at the hospital in Bloomsburg, what's the problem?"
"McGee's in Stillwater." Gibbs had already hit the speed dial for McGee's phone when he remembered seeing it in pieces on the floor of his destroyed car. It took a few seconds to remember the number for his father's store. McGee picked up on the third ring but the line went dead before Gibbs could warn him.
###
Concerned about the mix of the various cleaning agents that were poured out on the floor and the vapors that cleaning them would stir up, McGee borrowed several large fans from the volunteer fire department. The hardware section of the store provided face masks and he gingerly placed one on his face, moving the elastic band so that it didn't touch the stitches in his scalp. By noon the floors were clean enough that his feet no longer stuck as he walked. By three in the afternoon, the store was almost ready for business. The glass company was scheduled to arrive with the new windows at four, so Tim moved outside to remove the plywood covers he had placed the day before.
The owner of the gas station was standing outside the store when Tim walked out. The old man made Jackson look young as he scowled at McGee. "What is it with you city folk, you got to stick your nose into things that don't concern you."
"Well, somebody sure the heck needs to." McGee was just tired and sore enough to let his rare temper show through. A crowd was starting to gather and McGee turned to confront them. "If somebody offers your children drugs, do you expect them to turn it down?" After a great deal of murmuring in the affirmative, he continued. "Why do you expect your kids to stand up to something that you adults won't stand up against? Go on, get out of here. Go hide in your homes and decide how to explain it to your kids." Ignoring the group as they slipped away as well as the pain in his shoulder, McGee ripped the plywood off the windows before returning inside to continue the clean up. By the time the sidewalk outside the store was almost empty, a black truck was coming down the street.
Kenny Clayton was furious. He'd been lucky to be just arriving back at the farm when the raid started and had managed to fade into the woods without being seen, but the old man and his refusal to back down had cost Clayton a great deal of money. He'd been holding onto one grenade from a stolen shipment of military weapons and he couldn't think of a better way to use it. Gunning the engine, he laughed as the townsfolk scattered.
McGee finished tying the last trash bag closed as the phone rang. It was the first time he'd heard it since he'd started working that morning. As he reached out and picked up the receiver, a black truck with front end damage caught his attention. He dropped the phone and ran the second he saw the driver lob something through the remains of the broken window.
###
Agents Dayton and Miller soon realized why Fornell had laughed when he told Miller to loan Gibbs a car, as the hung on for the ride. Gibbs would have broken the land speed record between the temporary FBI office in Wilkes-Barre and Stillwater if there had been one. A second car with Willet and several more agents was lagging behind, but Dayton hoped they would be close enough to provide back up if it was needed. The phone in the store was dead, no one was answering the phone in the Sheriff's office and every firetruck from Bloomsburg had been dispatched to the tiny town.
The roads were blocked in the center of town, so Gibbs parked behind one of the firetrucks and started running. Dayton and Miller struggled to keep up while they pulled on their vests. The three men passed a black pickup that had been sideswiped by a tow truck and forced up against the brick building that housed the bank. Gibbs recognized the driver who was being handcuffed by Sheriff Gantry, under the watchful eye of the owner of the gas station and several more people Gibbs recognized. Grinning, Gantry shoved Clayton at the FBI agents that were with Gibbs.
"Here, you fee-bees missed one." Ed's smile faded as he turned to Gibbs. "They're still trying to shore the building up to get to your man, Jethro."
"Is he alive?" Gibbs was focusing on breathing, not allowing himself to even think about the alternatives.
Gantry hated to not be able to give a definitive answer. "It looks like he was able to dive behind the cash register before the grenade went off, so hopefully that protected him. All we can see are his legs, but he's not moving."
The advantage of being a mining community was that the rescuers knew how to handle an unstable structure. The fact that this one was above ground just made it easier and minutes after Gibbs' arrival, the firefighters were ready to move in. Gibbs spotted the Fire Chief and intercepted him. "I'm going in with you. That's my crime scene and my man trapped in there." The Fire Chief looked at Gantry, who nodded, before agreeing.
It was a testament to old time construction that the store was even standing. Gibbs couldn't help but look around as they worked their way towards McGee. A lifetime of memories were jumbled on the floor, mixed in with the cans of creamed corn and bags of rock salt. He'd give it all up just to hear that familiar 'hey Boss' just one more time.
The wall display of fishing gear that hung on the wall behind the register was laying across McGee's back, leaving only his legs exposed. The heavy metal register was on top of that plus one of the overhead beams. The rescue team made quick work of moving the beam and the register as the paramedics with them laid flat on the floor to start working on McGee the second he was free. On the count of three, the display was lifted away. Gibbs slipped past the firefighters and dropped to his knees next to the medic at Tim's head. Green eyes opened slowly and found his by instinct.
"Hey, Boss."
###
It was the afternoon of Christmas Eve when four exhausted men returned to Stillwater. By unspoken agreement, the two cars stopped in front of what had been Stillwater's only store. Jackson climbed out of the car to stand next to his son.
"You okay Dad? I know how much this store meant to you." Gibbs laid his hand on his father's shoulder. The older man was still a little too pale for his liking, but the doctor felt being home with his family for the holidays would be the best medicine.
Jackson looked at the shell that had housed his world for over forty years. "I'm just glad we didn't lose anything truly important." He gave a meaningful look at the young man resting in the car behind them.
"Yeah." As Gibbs turned to look at his sleeping passenger, his gaze lingered on Tim, but his father wasn't surprised. A group of men walking down the sidewalk interrupted whatever else he was going to say.
Ed Gantry and the local mine owner, Chuck Winslow were leading the group, both wearing determined looks. Gibbs braced for the fallout he was expecting after kissing Tim's forehead in the ambulance the day before. Instead, Winslow looked past him and into the gaping hole where the doors had once been. "I've got a crew that will be here bright and early on the twenty-sixth, Jack. We'll have all the repairs done before the truck arrives on the second to restock the store."
"Not that I'm complaining, but why?" The two men had achieved a strained truce since the younger Gibbs had arrested Winslow's son-in-law for the murder of Winslow's illegitimate son.
Winslow gave a soft laugh as he turned and looked at the sleeping agent slumped in the car. "Your boy was right about what was important and I want my grandson to know that I did the right thing. Have a good Christmas, all of you."
Ed nodded and followed without saying a word while the two Gibbs stared at each other. "Any idea what that was all about?"
Jackson shook his head. "A Christmas miracle, maybe? We're all alive and that's good enough for me."
###
Christmas Eve night found the three men sitting in front of a roaring fire, while Ducky puttered in the kitchen. On Ducky's insistence, Gibbs had brought in several armloads of wood, enough to last the entire night, though he didn't know why they needed that much wood. One thing he did know was that eventually Ducky would tell them why, and in great detail. Tonight, sitting on the old sofa from his childhood, Tim's head resting on his thigh, he was in the mood to hear a few long stories.
For his part, Tim was feeling quite content. He'd escaped the blast with only a minor concussion and a few hairline fractures of his ribs, plus some very colorful bruising. Dr Graham had teased him about his and Jackson's matching injuries, but they were both on the mend and right now that was all that mattered. He shifted, rubbing his cheek on Gibbs' leg as fingers in his hair lulled him to sleep.
Ducky came into the room, carrying a bowl of apples. "Well, a pizza stone makes a fine substitute for a Bannock Stane, so we will have a traditional Bannock Cake for tomorrow."
Tim opened one eye to look sideways at him. "What's a Bannock Stane?" Ducky looked thrilled at the question.
"In old Scotland, the Bannock Stane was a round,flat piece of limestone heated on an open fire as a cooking surface. Bannock made with oat flour was a traditional Christmas dessert in Scotland even before Christmas was banned."
"Christmas was banned in Scotland?" Jackson was fascinated by the amount of trivia Ducky seemed to know.
Ducky, for his part, always enjoyed a captive audience. "Christmas was banned in Scotland back in the sixteenth century. It was considered a Roman Catholic holiday, and not one that good Protestants should be celebrating. Heavens, the ban wasn't lifted until the 1950's. Now, have an apple. Eating an apple on Christmas Eve brings good luck for the new year."
After the last few days, no one wanted to argue with that superstition and everyone took an apple. When Tim sat up to take his, Gibbs used the opportunity to put another log on the fire. "So, Ducky, tell me why we have to keep the fire going until dawn?"
"To keep out the spirits, of course." Ducky smiled as he took a bite of his own apple.
Gibbs almost dropped the log. "Spirits?"
"Oh, yes, in Scotland, the spirits try to come down the fireplace on Christmas Eve. A roaring fire keeps them out. Then at midnight we throw open all the doors and any evil spirits already trapped in the house will be let out." Ducky thought for a moment and then added one more chore to the evening's activity. "We also need to sweep the thresholds to clear out all the trouble for the upcoming year."
Jack smiled at Ducky and raised his apple core in a salute. "Here's to a fresh start for the new year."
"Indeed." Ducky returned the salute. "Jack, could you tell me where I would find your roasting pan? I'd like to get the prime rib ready for tomorrow." His meaningful glance at the two figure on the sofa told the real reason he wanted help locating the pan that was already sitting out for him.
Tim watched the two of them disappear into the kitchen. "Gee, that was subtle."
"Ya' think?" Gibbs was just glad for the privacy as he bent closer to Tim. "How are you feeling, do you want another pain pill?"
"I'm all right for now. Those pills put me to sleep." a yawn proved McGee's point.
Despite the protest, Gibbs helped him sit up and take his scheduled medication. "You need the rest, Tim. Your body's had a couple of rough days. Besides, I have plans for you that can't happen until you are recovered."
"Plans?" McGee was intrigued as he settled back against Gibbs.
Gibbs took his time tucking a woven throw over the two of them. "Plans. But nothing is happening until you get the all clear from Ducky. I'll give you a preview, though, show you what you have to look forward to." He stroked his fingertips along Tim's jawline before gently tipping his head back slightly.
Tim shivered as he felt a tongue run across his bottom lip. Instinctively, he opened his mouth as the kiss deepened. Eventually, Gibbs pulled back, nibbling on that bottom lip one last time. "New Years, Timmy, gonna make you mine on New Years Eve. Do you think you'll be recovered by then?" Gibbs tone was teasing, but there was real worry behind it.
"My recovery will be well motivated." The pills were kicking in, and Tim could feel himself drifting off. He shifted and nuzzled against Gibbs' neck. He'd already found one of the older man's hot spots, and he was determined to find a few more before Christmas was through.
Gibbs shifted with him, making sure he was as comfortable as possible. Now that Tim was going to be all right, there was just one more thing he was worried about. "How upset is your family that you didn't go home for Christmas?"
Tim looked up at him and smiled. The open, honest look of love almost took his breath away. "I am home, Jethro. I'm with you."