The Days We Break
Title: The Days We Break
Pairing: Gen
Author:
honor_reid
Ratings: Mature
Length: 44,412
Warnings: Violence against a child/teen, past neglect and abuse mentions. Also mentions of underage prostitution, nothing graphic.
Author's Note: Sequel to my story Marching On, which I suggest you read first and can be found here. A huge thank you to my beta
naemi who really brought this story to another level and who is very patient with me. Thank you so much to my artist pe1804 they gave me such gorgous art that really captured the story I am trying to tell. Also thank you to the mods for organizing this challenge! The title is from the song Marchin' On by One Republic. Written for
ncis_bang. Also for
hc_bingo, square: phobias, table here.
Summary: It has been a month since Timothy was abandoned by his mother and sent to live with his father, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. As Tim settles in to a very different life, he gets to know his new family, makes his first friend, and searches for his mom. This leads to a very dangerous confrontation.
We'll have the days we break
And we'll have the scars to prove it
We'll have the bonds that we save
But we'll have the heart not to lose it
-Marching On by One Republic
Friday
When Tim saw the number fifty-seven flash on the electronic message board above the doorway to the computer lab, he jumped up and almost gave a loud whoop. Thankfully, he remembered his surroundings just in time and instead did a mini fist pump. The librarian manning the desk closest to the lab just put a finger up to her lips, gave him his key card, and pointed out the rules tacked up on the wall. Nodding and thanking her quietly, Tim found computer number four and quickly slid into the plastic chair. He grabbed the mouse and started scrolling over the various icons trying figure out what each one did. He didn’t have much time as Jackson would be out front of the library in a half-hour to pick him up.
It had been two weeks since Tim had started attending school on a regular basis. It sucks was his official opinion. He had missed a lot, so he was behind in all of his classes, and the kids hadn’t exactly been welcoming. They all had their own cliques and had given him a wide berth. It was a bit lonely, but Tim was used to not having any friends. The way his mother and him had moved around didn’t exactly foster long-term friendships. At the same time, he was enjoying having a routine for once, and most of the classes were interesting, so he was soaking up the new information like a sponge.
Since he was so far behind, he was put into an intensive tutoring program that was a joint venture between four school districts. Three times a week, the students in the program were bused to the downtown library after school, where Tim would then work with a tutor in Math, English, and Science for a couple of hours. At the end of each unit, he would take a test and, upon passing move on to the next unit. It was tough going, but he was making progress. Jackson had been tapped to pick him up around five, then they would go home, and Jackson would make dinner. Tim would do his homework, and at some point in the evening, Gibbs would come home. Tim was actually done with tutoring at four-thirty, but he had lied to both Gibbs and Jackson. He honestly felt bad about that . . . he did. They had been nothing but kind and giving to him. But Tim needed the extra half hour at the library in order have access to a computer. Gibbs didn’t own one and the ones at school were monitored.
Tim desperately needed to locate his mom quickly, and he hoped he would find information on the Internet that would lead him to her. He had heard that you could unearth anything and anyone on the internet. Unfortunately, in his travels with his mom he could count on one hand the number of times he had even touched a computer, much less actually sat down at one and tried to achieve something.
Finally, he started clicking on a few of the icons out of desperation. He managed to open a word document, some sort of art program, and a music program that blared out opera music. The earsplitting sound made everyone in the lab turn and stare at him. Embarrassment caused sweat to break out on his forehead as the music continued to play until Tim in a panic started randomly clicking on stuff in an attempt to get the computer to shut down.
Tim started a bit when an arm clad in a dark blue jean came over his shoulder and a hand with a wrist covered in leather bands pushed his hand off the mouse. With unerring accuracy and one click, the music was turned off. His rescuer then flopped into the empty chair at the station next to him. Feeling a bit chagrined at how easily it had been for his neighbor to shut down the offending program; Tim glanced over and mumbled a thanks. The boy sitting next to him was lanky with black hair that went to his chin. Tim figured he was at most a couple of years older than him. The teen grunted a no problem under his breath and didn’t bother to look up from his screen as he deftly moved the mouse. He apparently had no problem navigating the various icons. Tim tried to nonchalantly watch the teen’s screen in order to figure out how to work the computer.
The teen tucked the strands of his black long hair behind one ear he turned towards Tim with a raised eyebrow. His blue eyes were outlined with eyeliner, and with his voice dripping with distain when he asked, “Can I help you with something?”
Tim swallowed hard against the humiliation crawling its way up his throat, “I…don’t…do you…” Tim gestured half-heartedly towards his computer his face beet red.
The teen just stared at him unimpressed, before sliding his chair over with a roll of his eyes, and grabbing the mouse again. “Here they have a tutorial.” He clicked on an icon with a picture of a light bulb. Snatching a pair of rather large headphones off of a stand next to the computer, the teen shoved them roughly onto Tim’s head. The boy then slid back to his own computer, and waved off Tim’s muttered thanks.
Within a few seconds, a monotone voice was guiding Tim through computing 101. He kept one eye on his watch and one eye on the tutorial which thankfully was over with a couple minutes to spare. He was a little bummed he didn’t have time to look for his mom, but he would be back on Monday. Taking off the headphones, Tim turned to thank the older teen once again but was surprised to see an empty chair; he had been so absorbed in the program he hadn’t even seen him leave.
After he quickly gathered up his stuff, Tim ran down the stairs and out of the library, hitting the front doors at full speed. A hard rain had started since he had been in the library; Tim was surprised by the downpour. Trying to stop to avoid getting wet, his foot slipped out from under him on the slick marble floor, he started pin-wheeling his arms in an effort to stop himself from falling. Instead of his head meeting the marble floor like he expected, Tim felt someone grab the back of his jacket and yank him roughly back upright. Relieved, he looked up to thank his savior, but was shocked into silence to see the teen from earlier.
The dark-haired boy was glaring down at him as though Tim had tried to slip on purpose in order to inconvenience him. “Watch it, kid, you’ll crack your head open with stunts like that,” the older boy said before letting go and walking down the stairs, apparently unmindful of the rain falling down on him.
Realizing he had missed his chance to thank the teen. Tim just shook his head in resignation, knowing he probably wouldn’t see him again. Zipping up his jacket and flipping up the hood, Tim was soon enveloped in yellow flannel. The jacket was ugly as sin, but it was the warmest article of clothing he had ever owned. Plus the fact that it used to be owned by Gibbs gave it a little something extra. Not that he would admit it out loud, but it made him feel safe, like Gibbs was watching out for him even when he was not there.
Spying his ride, Tim ran down the front steps just in time as Jackson pulled up to the curb in his old pick-up truck. He jumped in and returned Jackson’s hello with one of his own.
“How was your day?” Jackson asked kindly as he pulled out into traffic.
Tim shrugged and said, “It was alright.”
As they stopped at the light, Tim saw the dark-haired teen who had helped him earlier standing on the sidewalk leaning against a white Honda and talking through an open window. Tim was concerned as he saw the boy was getting soaked. He had only a blue jean jacket, jeans, and his black hair was plastered to his forehead. The light turned green and the truck pulled forward. As they passed the white car, Tim was relieved to see the teen get into it and out of the rain. Tim’s attention was pulled back to Jackson when he asked about his math exam, which Tim was taking next Monday.
He was coming up on his first test next week and that thought had him swallowing nervously before answering, “I think am ready. I’ve passed all the pretests so I think I’ll be okay.”
Jackson smiled, and his voice was confident. “You’ll ace it for sure.”
Tim wasn’t so sure, but he didn’t want to argue. Instead, he stared out the window, and watched the rain pour down before he turned the conversation to how Jackson spent his day.
~NCIS~
Hands shaking, breaths coming in gasps, Cathy finally managed to unlock the hotel room door on the third try. Liam burst through, turning quickly and locking it again behind him.
Starting to sob with tears streaming down her face, Cathy begged as she slowly backed away from the menacing look on Liam’s face, “I’m sorry… I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”
Advancing forward and grabbing Cathy by her upper arms, Liam slammed her up against the wall his face inches from hers. “What did you do?”
Spittle hit Cathy’s face as Liam leaned closer, his breath stinking of cheap bourbon. “I swear I didn’t do anything. We hadn’t even gotten a chance to get started when he … he …”
Liam slammed her against the wall once more, causing her head to bounce against the drywall, and her dull headache became a sharp pain that reverberated through her skull. “Stop your whining, you stupid whore! God, you are just about useless! Where is he?”
Cathy tried to pull herself together long enough to keep Liam from becoming more violent, and pointed a shaking finger towards the bathroom. Liam pushed off her and pulling his Glock out of the back of his jeans, stalked across the room. Pushing open the bathroom door with a violent shove, he disappeared into the bathroom.
“Damn it!” echoed through the dingy hotel room.
Rubbing her green eyes with the heels of her hands, Cathy tried to figure out where the evening had gone wrong. She and Liam had rolled into Nashville a couple of weeks ago. She had been hustling at a local dive bar near the airport for a week. The area was crappy but the cops turned a blind eye as long no one caused trouble. And so far, it had all been smooth sailing; Liam would hang out at the bar and keep an eye on things, and she would chat up the half-drunk prospects. Most would follow her back to her room. They would agree on a price and then once they were finished, Cathy would wash up and go back to the bar.
This evening seemed like any other. It was Liam who had pointed the john out. The guy seemed out of place, with his three piece suit, and his red hair slicked back. Cathy had recognized the scent that had wafted her way. Clive Christian. A cologne like that was not cheap; the man obviously had money. So she had straightened her clothing, buttoned up her jacket, and had sauntered over. Her smile was a borderline smirk as she started a conversation commenting on his cologne. She knew a man like that wore his wealth for a reason; he wanted people to notice, to complement, to fawn over him, and so that is what Cathy did.
It worked. It always worked.
Soon they were back at the hotel; he said his name was Henry and that he had a couple hours to spare before his flight, so he walked into the first bar he saw. He had dropped his duffel bag at the end of the bed, and then had gone into the bathroom to freshen up. After twenty minutes, Cathy had grown worried, so she went to check on him only to find him on the bathroom floor, his brown eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.
Freaked out, she had called Liam in a panic, unsure what to do. She was high as a kite. She had shot up before they had hit the bar that evening, but even as muddled as her thinking was right now, she knew the situation was bad. Her john was dead, and she knew she was in so much trouble. Also Liam had warrants for his arrest; if they had a run-in with the cops they would both go to jail.
Liam came back into the main room and started pacing. “Son of a Bitch!”
Knowing better then to draw attention to herself when Liam was agitated, Cathy stayed against the wall. He had been angry more and more lately. Nothing she ever did was good enough; no matter how many clients she serviced, no matter how much money she made. Liam’s drug habit was getting out of control. He needed more and more lately, he had even reduced how much he gave her in order to feed his own habit.
The silence stretched out as Liam continued to pace. Finally, Cathy couldn’t take it anymore. “What …what are we going to do?”
At her trembling words, Liam stopped in his tracks and turned to her. “We? Sorry, sweetheart, there is no we in this situation. This is on you.”
That cleared her head. She said in a low tone as she walked towards him: “What? But you and me, we are in this together forever. You promised we would be together no matter what.”
Cathy tried to place her arms around Liam only to be pushed hard. Stumbling, she managed to right herself. “Baby?” she said confusion and hurt in her voice as she approached him again. She needed him to fix this for her. Placing a trembling hand on his arm, she was going to go in for a kiss to try to persuade him when he reared back and backhanded her.
Pain exploded across the side of her face, Cathy peddled backwards tripping over the dead man’s duffle bag. She landed on the floor in a sprawl. Staring up at Liam, Cathy felt a chill go over her at the look on his face. There was not a scrap of love in it. She knew in that moment something that she had never allowed herself to acknowledge before. He didn’t love her. It seemed so obvious now. Another thing that seemed glaringly obvious at the moment: He was going to kill her maybe today, maybe another day, but eventually, he would.
Liam took a menacing step towards her, the gun still in his right hand, only now. he was looking down at it contemplatively; Cathy started to scramble backwards, fear coursing through her. His foot catching on the red duffle forced Liam to look down. Picking up the bag in a huff, he then tossed it on the bed with a grunt.
“Damn that’s heavy! What’s in here?”
Unzipping the bag, Liam tossed the gun on the bed as he pulled out a few changes of clothes that were on top and put them aside. Cathy cautiously picked herself off the floor, keeping one eye on Liam as she edged towards the door.
She stopped in her tracks when Liam gave a loud exclamation. As he turned towards her, Cathy was shocked to see the stack of money in his hands. Liam placed the wad of cash on the bed. He then turned the bag upside down to dump out the rest of the contents; more money fell out along with some more clothes, and a dark green ledger.
Walking closer as Liam started separating the pile into even lines as he counted, “How much?” Cathy whispered when she saddled up next to him.
Liam turned towards her. His eyes wide in shock and his voice a stunned whisper. “At least half a million.”
“Seriously?” Cathy said. Her voice was a mere shadow of its former self as she looked down at more money than she had ever seen-heck, more than she had ever even dreamed of.
“Yes!” Swooping towards her, Liam didn’t notice her flinch as he took her in his arms and kissed her long and deep while bending her backwards over his arm. Breaking the kiss, Liam brought them both back to vertical with a wide grin which Cathy tried to return although hers was a bit weak, but Liam in his current euphoric state didn’t seem to notice. “We are rich, baby!” he yelled as he started to shove the money back in the bag.
Cathy’s smile became a bit more real at the exclamation. Then, a sobering thought hit her that wiped it off her face. “Wait, where did the money come from?”
Liam just looked at her like she was crazy and continued to gather up the stacks. “What does that matter? It’s ours now.”
She just shook her head before continuing, “This much money stowed away in a duffle bag is going to be dirty, and someone is going to come looking for it.”
“God, you’re stupid. Who cares who it used to belong to? Don’t worry: No one will know we have it,” Liam said with a sneer.
Stupid, useless, whore. We? Sorry, sweetheart, there is no we in this situation. This is on you. He’s going to kill me.
Liam’s words and her recent revelations kept running through her head. Cathy wasn’t stupid. She was right that the money was trouble, but Liam was also correct: It was a lot of money. It could change their life.
It could change her life.
At that thought, Cathy stood up straighter, an eerie sense of calm stealing over her, and all at once, she knew what she had to do. Pretending to gather up the clothes, she walked over to the bed, and swept up the abandoned gun in the process. Listening to Liam’s continued diatribe against her and his half-baked schemes as to how he would spend the money only hardened her resolve. Walking behind him, she dropped the clothes. Gripping the barrel tightly, she raised it over her head and brought the butt of the gun down sharply. The sound of the gun hitting the back of Liam’s head made Cathy’s stomach turn. He folded instantly, his body sprawled against the ugly brown carpet. Bending over him slightly, Cathy was relieved to see his chest rise up and go back down. She didn’t want to kill him; she just needed him unconscious for a while.
Cathy quickly finished placing the money and the green ledger in the duffle bag; gathering up her few belongings, she placed them on top of the money. Then going into the bathroom, she did her best to avoid looking at the body and the sightless eyes. Seizing a rag, Cathy started wiping down all of the surfaces she had touched. She was thankful Henry had been her first client of the night, therefore she hadn’t used the bed yet. Liam had been the one to rent the hotel room, so the front desk hopefully hadn’t seen her. With a little bit of luck, she may be able to just disappear without being implicated in this mess.
Trying to think, to plan, she turned in a circle but the meth coursing through her was making it difficult. God she hated it. She hated how much she craved it, how much it had ruined and run her life into the ground. Cathy caught her reflection in the mirror. She was shocked by how emaciated she looked. There was a bruise developing on her cheek and her eyes were blood shot. Shaken, she quickly looked away. What she had allowed herself to become wasn’t a pretty sight. Walking over to the bag, she picked it up, pulling the strap up on her shoulder. Using her jacket sleeve to turn the doorknob, Cathy took one last look around, her eyes falling on Liam’s unconscious form. Even knowing that Liam didn’t care for her didn’t stop the rush of feelings that came over her; it didn’t stop her from remembering the good times. But the heaviness of the bag on her shoulder and the throbbing pain on the side of her face where he had struck her gave her the courage to turn away and walk out the door.
~NCIS~
Gibbs’ finger hovered over the elevator button that would take him to the bullpen. It was getting close to quitting time. They had wrapped up a rather complicated case involving a four star general, but they managed to get a confession, so now it was just a matter of paperwork. He needed to check Ziva and DiNozzo’s progress before he started on his own, but his gut was telling him he needed to visit Ducky, so instead he pushed the button that would take him to autopsy. Pushing open the swinging doors, Gibbs managed to overhear the end of a conversation between Jimmy and Ducky.
“… I am very grateful, but are you sure, Dr. Mallard?” Jimmy was saying.
“You are ready Dr. Palmer. And truth be told, so am I. It’s time,” Ducky responded before he looked up and saw Gibbs. Ducky smiled a bit sadly at him, acknowledging his presence and then shifting his focus back at Palmer. “I’ve already talked to Director Vance, and he wants to speak to you as well. He knew I would want to break the news to you myself.”
Nodding his head, Palmer shifted a bit nervously from one foot to another. His voice was uncharacteristically sober. “Okay, I’ll go now.” He turned and gave an almost violent start at the sight of Gibbs.
Gibbs hid a smile at Palmer’s surprise. The assistant medical examiner never seemed to hear him coming. “Gibbs! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” the younger man stammered nervously before he veered around the senior agent in a fast walk.
Ducky pulled a stool next to his office chair, and Gibbs took that as an invitation. Once he sat down Ducky began: “I was going to talk to you after you had wrapped up the Thomson case, but as you are here now …” He trailed off before he seemed to gather his thoughts. “Jethro, as of Monday, I am officially retired, or I should say semi-retired. I will still come to work Monday thru Wednesday, but I will not be working crime scenes; that will be strictly Palmer and his assistant. I will be here to help with the autopsies once they arrive, and of course I will still be available to consult.” He paused and held Gibbs’ gaze for a long moment before continuing, “I have been thinking of retiring for awhile and this will help ease the transition for both Palmer and myself, as well as NCIS. In time, I will bow out completely.”
Gibbs sat back the news surprising him. He had known that Ducky had seemed preoccupied over the last couple of weeks. He had meant to talk to his friend before now, but with Tim and Jackson now a part of his everyday life, he had been low on time. He just couldn’t imagine coming down to autopsy and not seeing his friend. “Are you sure, Duck? You love your job here.”
“Of course I love my job, but I am ready to move on. Jethro, I am seventy-eight years old. It is time. And like I said, I will still be working here for a while, just on a part time basis.” Ducky explained gently. “You, Tony, Abby, Palmer, Ziva, and now Timothy are family to me; that will not change whether I work for NCIS or not.”
Gibbs nodded his understanding. He was thankful that Ducky saw them all as family because that is how Gibbs himself felt. It was true that Ducky was so full of life that sometimes Gibbs forgot his friend was older than himself, and although Gibbs never liked change, he did want what was best for his friend, so he said softly, “Okay.”
Standing up, he placed one hand on Ducky’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before walking out.
~NCIS~
Tim was so hungry his stomach was starting to hurt. It had been almost two days since the last time he had eaten. He had tried to sleep but the gnawing hunger made rest impossible. Tim was so desperate eat he decided to leave the room he had squirreled himself away in as the party had got going. His mother had passed out in one of the easy chairs in the living room earlier in the evening. Tim had checked to make sure she was still breathing and then had made himself scarce. He had found a room with a lock on the door and had planned on spending the night in it, but his hunger had driven him out, even though it wasn’t safe.
His goal was the pizza that had been delivered earlier in the day; Liam had shared it with Cathy and the other partygoers but had refused to give Tim any because in his words: Tim needed to pull his own weight. The look shared between Liam and his mother had been icy. His mother had been angry and a bit scared, so she hadn’t challenged Liam; she never did. Instead, she told Tim that she would sneak him a piece later, but she had passed out before she could. The party in the living room was still going strong; Tim could hear the loud music and the too loud laughter.
Keeping his steps light and his back against the wall, Tim walked towards the living room. The hallway was dark, but the living room was brightly lit. When he reached the end, Tim could see that most of the adults were on the far side of the room where the couch and chairs where situated in a circle. There was an alcove closest to the hallway where a small dinette table was located and on the table was the pizza box. Glancing over when one of the revelers gave a drunken shout, Tim felt his stomach give a desperate rumble, and that sensation had him creeping forward.
When he reached the table, he was dismayed to see only one slice of congealed cheese pizza but it looked like manna from heaven to his ravenous stomach. Wanting to return to the safety of his room, Tim reached out to grab the slice only to have it snatched away at the last minute. Tim looked up and saw Liam sneering down at him. He felt a cold sweep of terror run through him as Liam’s cruel smile grew.
“Look at you. God you’re such a waste of space. You can’t even steal a slice of pizza without screwing it up,” Liam said mockingly. He took a step towards him, causing Tim to flinch back in fear. “You’re such a loser, scared of your own shadow. Why Cathy puts up with you, I’ll never know.”
Liam kept walking towards him, but this time, Tim refused to back up. He was surprised when Liam walked past him and into the kitchen. He walked straight to the trashcan and stepped on the peddle at the bottom so the lid popped up. Liam looked him in the eye and dropped the slice of pizza in the garbage.
“If you want it so badly, there you go, it’s all yours,” Liam laughed out cruelly, and as he passed Tim on the way back to the living room, he said, “A freak like you should have no problem eating out of the garbage.”
Tim slowly walked into the kitchen as Liam and the rest of the partiers continued laughing and talking in the living room. Popping the lid of the trash can, Tim stared down at the slice. It was lying on old beer cans and coffee grounds. His stomach was in knots; somehow he was both hungry and nauseous. Reaching in, Tim picked it up. Turning around, Tim ran back into his room. He shut and locked the door, and then slid down until he was sitting in front of it. He stared at the food in his hand, brushing off the coffee grounds on the bottom. Then, with tears in his eye and shame rolling through him, he took a bite and almost gagged as the stale beer smell hit his nose, but he forced himself to swallow. Who knew when he would eat again?
Tim woke with a start. The memory of that night weaving its way through his dreams was new. He didn’t like to think about moments like that, but for some reason they would pop up in his dreams from time to time anyway. He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.
An hour later, Tim was staring wide eyed at his ceiling and watching the occasional headlight racing across as cars went down the street. Glancing at his bedside clock, Tim saw it was just past eleven, almost Sunday. He should be sleeping. He had been tired when he had lain down, but thanks to his nightmare, now he was wide awake. It had been a long day. He and Jackson had spent the day together, as Gibbs had been called out on a case. Tim hadn’t seen his father, and didn’t that still seem weird to say, since Thursday. Jackson had driven them down to the farmer’s market and they had walked the stalls. Tim had enjoyed himself; he had never been to an open air market before. He liked getting to sample the different types of food. They had talked about what recipes to try out in the coming week and had bought the fruits and vegetables they would need. His grandfather was teaching him to cook. Tim was enjoying the time they spent together in the kitchen getting dinner prepared. They got a chance to talk, just the two of them. Tim had learned a lot about Jacksons’ past and, to his father’s chagrin, more stories of Gibbs’ childhood.
After the farmer’s market, Tim had spent the rest of the day studying for the tests that he was taking on Monday afternoon. Jackson had finally pulled him away from studying in order to give him a break and they prepared dinner. They wrapped up their day by watching one of the movies Agent DiNozzo had dropped off a couple of weeks ago.
When the clock’s display turned to 11:30, Tim gave up. Taking his book off the nightstand, he softly made his way downstairs. In search of a snack Tim entered the kitchen. Finding an apple in the fruit bowl on the counter, Tim hesitated, his fingertips just brushing the dark red skin of the fruit when an epiphany stole over him. He could just take one and no one would yell at him. In fact, he could go into the fridge and make himself a sandwich and neither Gibbs nor Jackson would stop him. Grabbing the apple with a faint smile on his lips, Tim was going to go back upstairs when he saw light seeping under the basement door. Figuring it was Gibbs, Tim hesitated briefly before turning the handle. He stopped about three-fourths of the way down the stairs, and sat on one of the steps.
~NCIS~
Gibbs was tired but too keyed up to sleep. He had come down here to unwind and work on the bookcase he started a few weeks ago. It had been a long couple of days. When he had come home and the house had been dark, Gibbs had found himself disappointed. It used to be an everyday occurrence for him, but since Tim and Jackson moved in, it had been different. He had considered himself a bit of a lone wolf and that maybe having people under foot all the time would grow wearisome, but in actuality, Gibbs found he enjoyed having a family again. Although he had kept in contact over the phone with his father and Tim, he found he had missed them when he had basically lived at the office.
So he was pleasantly surprised when he heard the basement door open and Tim make his way down the stairs. They were making progress in their relationship, Tim still didn’t call him dad, but he also sought him out more when he was home and that made him optimistic.
He smiled his welcome when Tim sat down on the step; he asked, “How’s it going?”
Tim decided to be honest and said, “Good. A bit tired, but I couldn’t sleep.”
Gibbs knew Tim had a lot on his plate. He was going to school and was being tutored a few days a week. It was a heavy load for the young boy to carry; Gibbs was worried he could get overwhelmed, especially considering how much Tim’s life had changed lately. “Want to talk about it?”
Tim shrugged and in a low voice said, “I am a bit worried about the tests I have to take on Monday.”
“These are for the tutoring program?”
“Yeah. I have my first test for Math and Science this week, and I should be ready to take my English exam next week.”
Gibbs whistled softly. He could see why Tim was so worried, to have that many exams and all of his regular school work. Gibbs had been concerned about the work load when the principal had explained the program to him, but Tim had been determined to catch up to the other students in his grade. Gibbs had noticed that Tim seemed especially driven. Even the principal had said that usually it would take a student a month to reach the first test and Tim had reached it within two weeks.
“Need any help studying? It’s been awhile since I was in school, but I could quiz ya if you want,” Gibbs offered.
Rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, Tim said, “Umm maybe at some point, but right now honestly all of the words are starting to run together.” Lifting up his book and showing it to Gibbs, he continued, “I can’t even seem to read a book I actually want to read. The words refuse to make sense.”
Gibbs nodded his head in commiseration. “I’ve been there when I’ve worked a case for so long the words would start to swim in front of me and I can’t seem to think straight anymore.”
“So what do you do?” Tim asked genuinely interested.
“Well, usually when I get that caught up in my head, I need to take a step back and do something completely different,” Gibbs said, gesturing to the bookcase he was working on.
Tim stood up and walked down the stairs. Getting closer to Gibbs’ workstation, he asked, “What are you working on?”
Gibbs felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He was ridiculously glad that Tim was showing an interest in something he loved. “Actually, it’s a bookcase for Ducky for Christmas. He has more books than space and I thought this could help.”
~NCIS~
Standing next to Gibbs, Tim grinned and agreed, “That’s very true.”
They had eaten dinner over at Ducky’s house last week, and the M.D. had a plethora of books at his stately Victorian house. Tim had enjoyed himself during their evening at Dr. Mallard’s. After dinner, Ducky had asked him if he played chess and at his negative reply, Ducky had offered to teach him. That evening Tim received a crash course in the history of the game and how to play. He liked Ducky and enjoyed their chess game. He also felt a bit bad for him: It was a large house for one person; Tim sometimes felt that the man was lonely.
Now that he knew what to look for, Tim could see pieces of the bookcase spread around the basement. There were planks of a dark wood leaning up against the wall to their right. On the table were smaller pieces along with what Tim could only assume were wood carving tools.
Picking up one of them, Gibbs held it out for Tim to look at. “This is one of the decorative trim pieces.”
It was half finished and Tim was amazed to see how detailed the work was. In wonder he said, “This is the same design as some of the woodwork in Ducky’s house.”
“Yeah, I wanted it to match so that he could put it into any room in his house that he wished,” Gibbs stated, placing the piece back down on the table.
“I think he will love it. It’s very beautiful,” Tim said.
“Thank you, Tim. That means a lot.”
Tim shifted his weight from one foot to the other before feeling compelled to ask, “I hope it’s ok that I came down here?”
“Anytime I am working in the basement you are more than welcome to come join me. Okay?” Gibbs looked at Tim for his assent, once Tim nodded Gibbs pressed on, “If you want, I could show you how I work the designs into the wood.”
Tim nodded and then said, “Okay.”
Gibbs pulled up a stool for Tim. Once the young man was seated, Gibbs picked up one of the carving tools and one of the pieces and started the process of carving out a design. Tim found himself enraptured as Gibbs used the various tools. He recognized the leaves and swirls that started to take shape in what was formerly just a block of wood. He found he couldn’t help but break the silence by asking questions but Gibbs didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. His answers were always through and patient. Gibbs named the tools he used and showed Tim each of their functions.
“Did you want to help?” Gibbs asked, sounding uncharacteristically tentative.
Adamantly shaking his head, Tim said, “No, I wouldn’t want to mess anything up.”
“I have some pieces that need to be sanded first. If you want?”
Tim was unsure but intrigued, so he answered with a slight grin: “Sure I’ll try.”
Gibbs smiled gently before snagging a piece of scrap wood and some sand paper. He said, “First step is to sand off the rough bits and edge.”
Once Tim got started it actually wasn’t too difficult. As he sanded, Gibbs continued to carve the intricate designs. The silenced stretched on until Tim asked, “Did you do this with Kelly?”
As soon as the question left his mouth Tim wished he could take it back. Gibbs didn’t talk about Shannon or Kelly much. There had been a stray remark here and there but nothing really concrete. Taking a peek at Gibbs, Tim saw he had paused in his work and had a faraway look on his face. Just when Tim opened his mouth to apologize, Gibbs finally spoke up as he continued carving the vine and leaf motif into the wood.
“Kelly was a bit young for this. She always wanted to be moving and playing. But sometimes she would keep me company when I worked down here. She would play with her toys at a station I had set up in the corner. Kelly could talk your ear off if you gave her a chance.” Gibbs caught Tim’s eye for a brief moment before continuing, “I enjoyed the company even when she was lost in her own imagination.” He smiled a bit at the memory, “She would make up the most incredible stories and act them out with the stuffed animals.”
Tim listened intently: he was deeply curious. Kelly sounded like a good kid and would have been a great big sister. Tim knew she had been killed before he was born, but he was still sad that he wouldn’t ever get to meet her.
Gibbs continued to tell stories about Kelly and Shannon as they kept working on Ducky’s bookcase. Tim would ask questions here or there to keep the stories coming, and he even got to hear more about his father’s childhood.
~NCIS~
Gibbs told Tim about the day Kelly was born and how she was walking by one and running by one and a half. How Shannon could cook the best spice cake, the kind that would melt in your mouth. Gibbs was surprised how much he was enjoying being able to share with Tim about his wife and daughter. When Tim yawned for the third time, he knew it was time to wrap it up. Gibbs glanced at the clock behind him and saw it was past one in the morning. “It’s late.”
They washed up at the utility sink, and then they walked tiredly up the stairs. Gibbs could tell Tim was profoundly tired, he hoped he would now be able to sleep. As they parted in the hallway, Tim gave him a sleepy wave and a quiet thank you. Going into his own room, Gibbs couldn’t help but smile. He felt that this evening he and Tim had turned a corner, and that maybe Tim was starting to trust him. Hopefully soon his son would feel comfortable enough to open up more about his past.
Chapter Two
Pairing: Gen
Author:
honor_reid
Ratings: Mature
Length: 44,412
Warnings: Violence against a child/teen, past neglect and abuse mentions. Also mentions of underage prostitution, nothing graphic.
Author's Note: Sequel to my story Marching On, which I suggest you read first and can be found here. A huge thank you to my beta
naemi who really brought this story to another level and who is very patient with me. Thank you so much to my artist pe1804 they gave me such gorgous art that really captured the story I am trying to tell. Also thank you to the mods for organizing this challenge! The title is from the song Marchin' On by One Republic. Written for
ncis_bang. Also for
hc_bingo, square: phobias, table here.
Summary: It has been a month since Timothy was abandoned by his mother and sent to live with his father, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. As Tim settles in to a very different life, he gets to know his new family, makes his first friend, and searches for his mom. This leads to a very dangerous confrontation.
We'll have the days we break
And we'll have the scars to prove it
We'll have the bonds that we save
But we'll have the heart not to lose it
-Marching On by One Republic
Friday
When Tim saw the number fifty-seven flash on the electronic message board above the doorway to the computer lab, he jumped up and almost gave a loud whoop. Thankfully, he remembered his surroundings just in time and instead did a mini fist pump. The librarian manning the desk closest to the lab just put a finger up to her lips, gave him his key card, and pointed out the rules tacked up on the wall. Nodding and thanking her quietly, Tim found computer number four and quickly slid into the plastic chair. He grabbed the mouse and started scrolling over the various icons trying figure out what each one did. He didn’t have much time as Jackson would be out front of the library in a half-hour to pick him up.
It had been two weeks since Tim had started attending school on a regular basis. It sucks was his official opinion. He had missed a lot, so he was behind in all of his classes, and the kids hadn’t exactly been welcoming. They all had their own cliques and had given him a wide berth. It was a bit lonely, but Tim was used to not having any friends. The way his mother and him had moved around didn’t exactly foster long-term friendships. At the same time, he was enjoying having a routine for once, and most of the classes were interesting, so he was soaking up the new information like a sponge.
Since he was so far behind, he was put into an intensive tutoring program that was a joint venture between four school districts. Three times a week, the students in the program were bused to the downtown library after school, where Tim would then work with a tutor in Math, English, and Science for a couple of hours. At the end of each unit, he would take a test and, upon passing move on to the next unit. It was tough going, but he was making progress. Jackson had been tapped to pick him up around five, then they would go home, and Jackson would make dinner. Tim would do his homework, and at some point in the evening, Gibbs would come home. Tim was actually done with tutoring at four-thirty, but he had lied to both Gibbs and Jackson. He honestly felt bad about that . . . he did. They had been nothing but kind and giving to him. But Tim needed the extra half hour at the library in order have access to a computer. Gibbs didn’t own one and the ones at school were monitored.
Tim desperately needed to locate his mom quickly, and he hoped he would find information on the Internet that would lead him to her. He had heard that you could unearth anything and anyone on the internet. Unfortunately, in his travels with his mom he could count on one hand the number of times he had even touched a computer, much less actually sat down at one and tried to achieve something.
Finally, he started clicking on a few of the icons out of desperation. He managed to open a word document, some sort of art program, and a music program that blared out opera music. The earsplitting sound made everyone in the lab turn and stare at him. Embarrassment caused sweat to break out on his forehead as the music continued to play until Tim in a panic started randomly clicking on stuff in an attempt to get the computer to shut down.
Tim started a bit when an arm clad in a dark blue jean came over his shoulder and a hand with a wrist covered in leather bands pushed his hand off the mouse. With unerring accuracy and one click, the music was turned off. His rescuer then flopped into the empty chair at the station next to him. Feeling a bit chagrined at how easily it had been for his neighbor to shut down the offending program; Tim glanced over and mumbled a thanks. The boy sitting next to him was lanky with black hair that went to his chin. Tim figured he was at most a couple of years older than him. The teen grunted a no problem under his breath and didn’t bother to look up from his screen as he deftly moved the mouse. He apparently had no problem navigating the various icons. Tim tried to nonchalantly watch the teen’s screen in order to figure out how to work the computer.
The teen tucked the strands of his black long hair behind one ear he turned towards Tim with a raised eyebrow. His blue eyes were outlined with eyeliner, and with his voice dripping with distain when he asked, “Can I help you with something?”
Tim swallowed hard against the humiliation crawling its way up his throat, “I…don’t…do you…” Tim gestured half-heartedly towards his computer his face beet red.
The teen just stared at him unimpressed, before sliding his chair over with a roll of his eyes, and grabbing the mouse again. “Here they have a tutorial.” He clicked on an icon with a picture of a light bulb. Snatching a pair of rather large headphones off of a stand next to the computer, the teen shoved them roughly onto Tim’s head. The boy then slid back to his own computer, and waved off Tim’s muttered thanks.
Within a few seconds, a monotone voice was guiding Tim through computing 101. He kept one eye on his watch and one eye on the tutorial which thankfully was over with a couple minutes to spare. He was a little bummed he didn’t have time to look for his mom, but he would be back on Monday. Taking off the headphones, Tim turned to thank the older teen once again but was surprised to see an empty chair; he had been so absorbed in the program he hadn’t even seen him leave.
After he quickly gathered up his stuff, Tim ran down the stairs and out of the library, hitting the front doors at full speed. A hard rain had started since he had been in the library; Tim was surprised by the downpour. Trying to stop to avoid getting wet, his foot slipped out from under him on the slick marble floor, he started pin-wheeling his arms in an effort to stop himself from falling. Instead of his head meeting the marble floor like he expected, Tim felt someone grab the back of his jacket and yank him roughly back upright. Relieved, he looked up to thank his savior, but was shocked into silence to see the teen from earlier.
The dark-haired boy was glaring down at him as though Tim had tried to slip on purpose in order to inconvenience him. “Watch it, kid, you’ll crack your head open with stunts like that,” the older boy said before letting go and walking down the stairs, apparently unmindful of the rain falling down on him.
Realizing he had missed his chance to thank the teen. Tim just shook his head in resignation, knowing he probably wouldn’t see him again. Zipping up his jacket and flipping up the hood, Tim was soon enveloped in yellow flannel. The jacket was ugly as sin, but it was the warmest article of clothing he had ever owned. Plus the fact that it used to be owned by Gibbs gave it a little something extra. Not that he would admit it out loud, but it made him feel safe, like Gibbs was watching out for him even when he was not there.
Spying his ride, Tim ran down the front steps just in time as Jackson pulled up to the curb in his old pick-up truck. He jumped in and returned Jackson’s hello with one of his own.
“How was your day?” Jackson asked kindly as he pulled out into traffic.
Tim shrugged and said, “It was alright.”
As they stopped at the light, Tim saw the dark-haired teen who had helped him earlier standing on the sidewalk leaning against a white Honda and talking through an open window. Tim was concerned as he saw the boy was getting soaked. He had only a blue jean jacket, jeans, and his black hair was plastered to his forehead. The light turned green and the truck pulled forward. As they passed the white car, Tim was relieved to see the teen get into it and out of the rain. Tim’s attention was pulled back to Jackson when he asked about his math exam, which Tim was taking next Monday.
He was coming up on his first test next week and that thought had him swallowing nervously before answering, “I think am ready. I’ve passed all the pretests so I think I’ll be okay.”
Jackson smiled, and his voice was confident. “You’ll ace it for sure.”
Tim wasn’t so sure, but he didn’t want to argue. Instead, he stared out the window, and watched the rain pour down before he turned the conversation to how Jackson spent his day.
~NCIS~
Hands shaking, breaths coming in gasps, Cathy finally managed to unlock the hotel room door on the third try. Liam burst through, turning quickly and locking it again behind him.
Starting to sob with tears streaming down her face, Cathy begged as she slowly backed away from the menacing look on Liam’s face, “I’m sorry… I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”
Advancing forward and grabbing Cathy by her upper arms, Liam slammed her up against the wall his face inches from hers. “What did you do?”
Spittle hit Cathy’s face as Liam leaned closer, his breath stinking of cheap bourbon. “I swear I didn’t do anything. We hadn’t even gotten a chance to get started when he … he …”
Liam slammed her against the wall once more, causing her head to bounce against the drywall, and her dull headache became a sharp pain that reverberated through her skull. “Stop your whining, you stupid whore! God, you are just about useless! Where is he?”
Cathy tried to pull herself together long enough to keep Liam from becoming more violent, and pointed a shaking finger towards the bathroom. Liam pushed off her and pulling his Glock out of the back of his jeans, stalked across the room. Pushing open the bathroom door with a violent shove, he disappeared into the bathroom.
“Damn it!” echoed through the dingy hotel room.
Rubbing her green eyes with the heels of her hands, Cathy tried to figure out where the evening had gone wrong. She and Liam had rolled into Nashville a couple of weeks ago. She had been hustling at a local dive bar near the airport for a week. The area was crappy but the cops turned a blind eye as long no one caused trouble. And so far, it had all been smooth sailing; Liam would hang out at the bar and keep an eye on things, and she would chat up the half-drunk prospects. Most would follow her back to her room. They would agree on a price and then once they were finished, Cathy would wash up and go back to the bar.
This evening seemed like any other. It was Liam who had pointed the john out. The guy seemed out of place, with his three piece suit, and his red hair slicked back. Cathy had recognized the scent that had wafted her way. Clive Christian. A cologne like that was not cheap; the man obviously had money. So she had straightened her clothing, buttoned up her jacket, and had sauntered over. Her smile was a borderline smirk as she started a conversation commenting on his cologne. She knew a man like that wore his wealth for a reason; he wanted people to notice, to complement, to fawn over him, and so that is what Cathy did.
It worked. It always worked.
Soon they were back at the hotel; he said his name was Henry and that he had a couple hours to spare before his flight, so he walked into the first bar he saw. He had dropped his duffel bag at the end of the bed, and then had gone into the bathroom to freshen up. After twenty minutes, Cathy had grown worried, so she went to check on him only to find him on the bathroom floor, his brown eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.
Freaked out, she had called Liam in a panic, unsure what to do. She was high as a kite. She had shot up before they had hit the bar that evening, but even as muddled as her thinking was right now, she knew the situation was bad. Her john was dead, and she knew she was in so much trouble. Also Liam had warrants for his arrest; if they had a run-in with the cops they would both go to jail.
Liam came back into the main room and started pacing. “Son of a Bitch!”
Knowing better then to draw attention to herself when Liam was agitated, Cathy stayed against the wall. He had been angry more and more lately. Nothing she ever did was good enough; no matter how many clients she serviced, no matter how much money she made. Liam’s drug habit was getting out of control. He needed more and more lately, he had even reduced how much he gave her in order to feed his own habit.
The silence stretched out as Liam continued to pace. Finally, Cathy couldn’t take it anymore. “What …what are we going to do?”
At her trembling words, Liam stopped in his tracks and turned to her. “We? Sorry, sweetheart, there is no we in this situation. This is on you.”
That cleared her head. She said in a low tone as she walked towards him: “What? But you and me, we are in this together forever. You promised we would be together no matter what.”
Cathy tried to place her arms around Liam only to be pushed hard. Stumbling, she managed to right herself. “Baby?” she said confusion and hurt in her voice as she approached him again. She needed him to fix this for her. Placing a trembling hand on his arm, she was going to go in for a kiss to try to persuade him when he reared back and backhanded her.
Pain exploded across the side of her face, Cathy peddled backwards tripping over the dead man’s duffle bag. She landed on the floor in a sprawl. Staring up at Liam, Cathy felt a chill go over her at the look on his face. There was not a scrap of love in it. She knew in that moment something that she had never allowed herself to acknowledge before. He didn’t love her. It seemed so obvious now. Another thing that seemed glaringly obvious at the moment: He was going to kill her maybe today, maybe another day, but eventually, he would.
Liam took a menacing step towards her, the gun still in his right hand, only now. he was looking down at it contemplatively; Cathy started to scramble backwards, fear coursing through her. His foot catching on the red duffle forced Liam to look down. Picking up the bag in a huff, he then tossed it on the bed with a grunt.
“Damn that’s heavy! What’s in here?”
Unzipping the bag, Liam tossed the gun on the bed as he pulled out a few changes of clothes that were on top and put them aside. Cathy cautiously picked herself off the floor, keeping one eye on Liam as she edged towards the door.
She stopped in her tracks when Liam gave a loud exclamation. As he turned towards her, Cathy was shocked to see the stack of money in his hands. Liam placed the wad of cash on the bed. He then turned the bag upside down to dump out the rest of the contents; more money fell out along with some more clothes, and a dark green ledger.
Walking closer as Liam started separating the pile into even lines as he counted, “How much?” Cathy whispered when she saddled up next to him.
Liam turned towards her. His eyes wide in shock and his voice a stunned whisper. “At least half a million.”
“Seriously?” Cathy said. Her voice was a mere shadow of its former self as she looked down at more money than she had ever seen-heck, more than she had ever even dreamed of.
“Yes!” Swooping towards her, Liam didn’t notice her flinch as he took her in his arms and kissed her long and deep while bending her backwards over his arm. Breaking the kiss, Liam brought them both back to vertical with a wide grin which Cathy tried to return although hers was a bit weak, but Liam in his current euphoric state didn’t seem to notice. “We are rich, baby!” he yelled as he started to shove the money back in the bag.
Cathy’s smile became a bit more real at the exclamation. Then, a sobering thought hit her that wiped it off her face. “Wait, where did the money come from?”
Liam just looked at her like she was crazy and continued to gather up the stacks. “What does that matter? It’s ours now.”
She just shook her head before continuing, “This much money stowed away in a duffle bag is going to be dirty, and someone is going to come looking for it.”
“God, you’re stupid. Who cares who it used to belong to? Don’t worry: No one will know we have it,” Liam said with a sneer.
Stupid, useless, whore. We? Sorry, sweetheart, there is no we in this situation. This is on you. He’s going to kill me.
Liam’s words and her recent revelations kept running through her head. Cathy wasn’t stupid. She was right that the money was trouble, but Liam was also correct: It was a lot of money. It could change their life.
It could change her life.
At that thought, Cathy stood up straighter, an eerie sense of calm stealing over her, and all at once, she knew what she had to do. Pretending to gather up the clothes, she walked over to the bed, and swept up the abandoned gun in the process. Listening to Liam’s continued diatribe against her and his half-baked schemes as to how he would spend the money only hardened her resolve. Walking behind him, she dropped the clothes. Gripping the barrel tightly, she raised it over her head and brought the butt of the gun down sharply. The sound of the gun hitting the back of Liam’s head made Cathy’s stomach turn. He folded instantly, his body sprawled against the ugly brown carpet. Bending over him slightly, Cathy was relieved to see his chest rise up and go back down. She didn’t want to kill him; she just needed him unconscious for a while.
Cathy quickly finished placing the money and the green ledger in the duffle bag; gathering up her few belongings, she placed them on top of the money. Then going into the bathroom, she did her best to avoid looking at the body and the sightless eyes. Seizing a rag, Cathy started wiping down all of the surfaces she had touched. She was thankful Henry had been her first client of the night, therefore she hadn’t used the bed yet. Liam had been the one to rent the hotel room, so the front desk hopefully hadn’t seen her. With a little bit of luck, she may be able to just disappear without being implicated in this mess.
Trying to think, to plan, she turned in a circle but the meth coursing through her was making it difficult. God she hated it. She hated how much she craved it, how much it had ruined and run her life into the ground. Cathy caught her reflection in the mirror. She was shocked by how emaciated she looked. There was a bruise developing on her cheek and her eyes were blood shot. Shaken, she quickly looked away. What she had allowed herself to become wasn’t a pretty sight. Walking over to the bag, she picked it up, pulling the strap up on her shoulder. Using her jacket sleeve to turn the doorknob, Cathy took one last look around, her eyes falling on Liam’s unconscious form. Even knowing that Liam didn’t care for her didn’t stop the rush of feelings that came over her; it didn’t stop her from remembering the good times. But the heaviness of the bag on her shoulder and the throbbing pain on the side of her face where he had struck her gave her the courage to turn away and walk out the door.
~NCIS~
Gibbs’ finger hovered over the elevator button that would take him to the bullpen. It was getting close to quitting time. They had wrapped up a rather complicated case involving a four star general, but they managed to get a confession, so now it was just a matter of paperwork. He needed to check Ziva and DiNozzo’s progress before he started on his own, but his gut was telling him he needed to visit Ducky, so instead he pushed the button that would take him to autopsy. Pushing open the swinging doors, Gibbs managed to overhear the end of a conversation between Jimmy and Ducky.
“… I am very grateful, but are you sure, Dr. Mallard?” Jimmy was saying.
“You are ready Dr. Palmer. And truth be told, so am I. It’s time,” Ducky responded before he looked up and saw Gibbs. Ducky smiled a bit sadly at him, acknowledging his presence and then shifting his focus back at Palmer. “I’ve already talked to Director Vance, and he wants to speak to you as well. He knew I would want to break the news to you myself.”
Nodding his head, Palmer shifted a bit nervously from one foot to another. His voice was uncharacteristically sober. “Okay, I’ll go now.” He turned and gave an almost violent start at the sight of Gibbs.
Gibbs hid a smile at Palmer’s surprise. The assistant medical examiner never seemed to hear him coming. “Gibbs! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” the younger man stammered nervously before he veered around the senior agent in a fast walk.
Ducky pulled a stool next to his office chair, and Gibbs took that as an invitation. Once he sat down Ducky began: “I was going to talk to you after you had wrapped up the Thomson case, but as you are here now …” He trailed off before he seemed to gather his thoughts. “Jethro, as of Monday, I am officially retired, or I should say semi-retired. I will still come to work Monday thru Wednesday, but I will not be working crime scenes; that will be strictly Palmer and his assistant. I will be here to help with the autopsies once they arrive, and of course I will still be available to consult.” He paused and held Gibbs’ gaze for a long moment before continuing, “I have been thinking of retiring for awhile and this will help ease the transition for both Palmer and myself, as well as NCIS. In time, I will bow out completely.”
Gibbs sat back the news surprising him. He had known that Ducky had seemed preoccupied over the last couple of weeks. He had meant to talk to his friend before now, but with Tim and Jackson now a part of his everyday life, he had been low on time. He just couldn’t imagine coming down to autopsy and not seeing his friend. “Are you sure, Duck? You love your job here.”
“Of course I love my job, but I am ready to move on. Jethro, I am seventy-eight years old. It is time. And like I said, I will still be working here for a while, just on a part time basis.” Ducky explained gently. “You, Tony, Abby, Palmer, Ziva, and now Timothy are family to me; that will not change whether I work for NCIS or not.”
Gibbs nodded his understanding. He was thankful that Ducky saw them all as family because that is how Gibbs himself felt. It was true that Ducky was so full of life that sometimes Gibbs forgot his friend was older than himself, and although Gibbs never liked change, he did want what was best for his friend, so he said softly, “Okay.”
Standing up, he placed one hand on Ducky’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before walking out.
~NCIS~
Tim was so hungry his stomach was starting to hurt. It had been almost two days since the last time he had eaten. He had tried to sleep but the gnawing hunger made rest impossible. Tim was so desperate eat he decided to leave the room he had squirreled himself away in as the party had got going. His mother had passed out in one of the easy chairs in the living room earlier in the evening. Tim had checked to make sure she was still breathing and then had made himself scarce. He had found a room with a lock on the door and had planned on spending the night in it, but his hunger had driven him out, even though it wasn’t safe.
His goal was the pizza that had been delivered earlier in the day; Liam had shared it with Cathy and the other partygoers but had refused to give Tim any because in his words: Tim needed to pull his own weight. The look shared between Liam and his mother had been icy. His mother had been angry and a bit scared, so she hadn’t challenged Liam; she never did. Instead, she told Tim that she would sneak him a piece later, but she had passed out before she could. The party in the living room was still going strong; Tim could hear the loud music and the too loud laughter.
Keeping his steps light and his back against the wall, Tim walked towards the living room. The hallway was dark, but the living room was brightly lit. When he reached the end, Tim could see that most of the adults were on the far side of the room where the couch and chairs where situated in a circle. There was an alcove closest to the hallway where a small dinette table was located and on the table was the pizza box. Glancing over when one of the revelers gave a drunken shout, Tim felt his stomach give a desperate rumble, and that sensation had him creeping forward.
When he reached the table, he was dismayed to see only one slice of congealed cheese pizza but it looked like manna from heaven to his ravenous stomach. Wanting to return to the safety of his room, Tim reached out to grab the slice only to have it snatched away at the last minute. Tim looked up and saw Liam sneering down at him. He felt a cold sweep of terror run through him as Liam’s cruel smile grew.
“Look at you. God you’re such a waste of space. You can’t even steal a slice of pizza without screwing it up,” Liam said mockingly. He took a step towards him, causing Tim to flinch back in fear. “You’re such a loser, scared of your own shadow. Why Cathy puts up with you, I’ll never know.”
Liam kept walking towards him, but this time, Tim refused to back up. He was surprised when Liam walked past him and into the kitchen. He walked straight to the trashcan and stepped on the peddle at the bottom so the lid popped up. Liam looked him in the eye and dropped the slice of pizza in the garbage.
“If you want it so badly, there you go, it’s all yours,” Liam laughed out cruelly, and as he passed Tim on the way back to the living room, he said, “A freak like you should have no problem eating out of the garbage.”
Tim slowly walked into the kitchen as Liam and the rest of the partiers continued laughing and talking in the living room. Popping the lid of the trash can, Tim stared down at the slice. It was lying on old beer cans and coffee grounds. His stomach was in knots; somehow he was both hungry and nauseous. Reaching in, Tim picked it up. Turning around, Tim ran back into his room. He shut and locked the door, and then slid down until he was sitting in front of it. He stared at the food in his hand, brushing off the coffee grounds on the bottom. Then, with tears in his eye and shame rolling through him, he took a bite and almost gagged as the stale beer smell hit his nose, but he forced himself to swallow. Who knew when he would eat again?
Tim woke with a start. The memory of that night weaving its way through his dreams was new. He didn’t like to think about moments like that, but for some reason they would pop up in his dreams from time to time anyway. He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.
An hour later, Tim was staring wide eyed at his ceiling and watching the occasional headlight racing across as cars went down the street. Glancing at his bedside clock, Tim saw it was just past eleven, almost Sunday. He should be sleeping. He had been tired when he had lain down, but thanks to his nightmare, now he was wide awake. It had been a long day. He and Jackson had spent the day together, as Gibbs had been called out on a case. Tim hadn’t seen his father, and didn’t that still seem weird to say, since Thursday. Jackson had driven them down to the farmer’s market and they had walked the stalls. Tim had enjoyed himself; he had never been to an open air market before. He liked getting to sample the different types of food. They had talked about what recipes to try out in the coming week and had bought the fruits and vegetables they would need. His grandfather was teaching him to cook. Tim was enjoying the time they spent together in the kitchen getting dinner prepared. They got a chance to talk, just the two of them. Tim had learned a lot about Jacksons’ past and, to his father’s chagrin, more stories of Gibbs’ childhood.
After the farmer’s market, Tim had spent the rest of the day studying for the tests that he was taking on Monday afternoon. Jackson had finally pulled him away from studying in order to give him a break and they prepared dinner. They wrapped up their day by watching one of the movies Agent DiNozzo had dropped off a couple of weeks ago.
When the clock’s display turned to 11:30, Tim gave up. Taking his book off the nightstand, he softly made his way downstairs. In search of a snack Tim entered the kitchen. Finding an apple in the fruit bowl on the counter, Tim hesitated, his fingertips just brushing the dark red skin of the fruit when an epiphany stole over him. He could just take one and no one would yell at him. In fact, he could go into the fridge and make himself a sandwich and neither Gibbs nor Jackson would stop him. Grabbing the apple with a faint smile on his lips, Tim was going to go back upstairs when he saw light seeping under the basement door. Figuring it was Gibbs, Tim hesitated briefly before turning the handle. He stopped about three-fourths of the way down the stairs, and sat on one of the steps.
~NCIS~
Gibbs was tired but too keyed up to sleep. He had come down here to unwind and work on the bookcase he started a few weeks ago. It had been a long couple of days. When he had come home and the house had been dark, Gibbs had found himself disappointed. It used to be an everyday occurrence for him, but since Tim and Jackson moved in, it had been different. He had considered himself a bit of a lone wolf and that maybe having people under foot all the time would grow wearisome, but in actuality, Gibbs found he enjoyed having a family again. Although he had kept in contact over the phone with his father and Tim, he found he had missed them when he had basically lived at the office.
So he was pleasantly surprised when he heard the basement door open and Tim make his way down the stairs. They were making progress in their relationship, Tim still didn’t call him dad, but he also sought him out more when he was home and that made him optimistic.
He smiled his welcome when Tim sat down on the step; he asked, “How’s it going?”
Tim decided to be honest and said, “Good. A bit tired, but I couldn’t sleep.”
Gibbs knew Tim had a lot on his plate. He was going to school and was being tutored a few days a week. It was a heavy load for the young boy to carry; Gibbs was worried he could get overwhelmed, especially considering how much Tim’s life had changed lately. “Want to talk about it?”
Tim shrugged and in a low voice said, “I am a bit worried about the tests I have to take on Monday.”
“These are for the tutoring program?”
“Yeah. I have my first test for Math and Science this week, and I should be ready to take my English exam next week.”
Gibbs whistled softly. He could see why Tim was so worried, to have that many exams and all of his regular school work. Gibbs had been concerned about the work load when the principal had explained the program to him, but Tim had been determined to catch up to the other students in his grade. Gibbs had noticed that Tim seemed especially driven. Even the principal had said that usually it would take a student a month to reach the first test and Tim had reached it within two weeks.
“Need any help studying? It’s been awhile since I was in school, but I could quiz ya if you want,” Gibbs offered.
Rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, Tim said, “Umm maybe at some point, but right now honestly all of the words are starting to run together.” Lifting up his book and showing it to Gibbs, he continued, “I can’t even seem to read a book I actually want to read. The words refuse to make sense.”
Gibbs nodded his head in commiseration. “I’ve been there when I’ve worked a case for so long the words would start to swim in front of me and I can’t seem to think straight anymore.”
“So what do you do?” Tim asked genuinely interested.
“Well, usually when I get that caught up in my head, I need to take a step back and do something completely different,” Gibbs said, gesturing to the bookcase he was working on.
Tim stood up and walked down the stairs. Getting closer to Gibbs’ workstation, he asked, “What are you working on?”
Gibbs felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He was ridiculously glad that Tim was showing an interest in something he loved. “Actually, it’s a bookcase for Ducky for Christmas. He has more books than space and I thought this could help.”
~NCIS~
Standing next to Gibbs, Tim grinned and agreed, “That’s very true.”
They had eaten dinner over at Ducky’s house last week, and the M.D. had a plethora of books at his stately Victorian house. Tim had enjoyed himself during their evening at Dr. Mallard’s. After dinner, Ducky had asked him if he played chess and at his negative reply, Ducky had offered to teach him. That evening Tim received a crash course in the history of the game and how to play. He liked Ducky and enjoyed their chess game. He also felt a bit bad for him: It was a large house for one person; Tim sometimes felt that the man was lonely.
Now that he knew what to look for, Tim could see pieces of the bookcase spread around the basement. There were planks of a dark wood leaning up against the wall to their right. On the table were smaller pieces along with what Tim could only assume were wood carving tools.
Picking up one of them, Gibbs held it out for Tim to look at. “This is one of the decorative trim pieces.”
It was half finished and Tim was amazed to see how detailed the work was. In wonder he said, “This is the same design as some of the woodwork in Ducky’s house.”
“Yeah, I wanted it to match so that he could put it into any room in his house that he wished,” Gibbs stated, placing the piece back down on the table.
“I think he will love it. It’s very beautiful,” Tim said.
“Thank you, Tim. That means a lot.”
Tim shifted his weight from one foot to the other before feeling compelled to ask, “I hope it’s ok that I came down here?”
“Anytime I am working in the basement you are more than welcome to come join me. Okay?” Gibbs looked at Tim for his assent, once Tim nodded Gibbs pressed on, “If you want, I could show you how I work the designs into the wood.”
Tim nodded and then said, “Okay.”
Gibbs pulled up a stool for Tim. Once the young man was seated, Gibbs picked up one of the carving tools and one of the pieces and started the process of carving out a design. Tim found himself enraptured as Gibbs used the various tools. He recognized the leaves and swirls that started to take shape in what was formerly just a block of wood. He found he couldn’t help but break the silence by asking questions but Gibbs didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. His answers were always through and patient. Gibbs named the tools he used and showed Tim each of their functions.
“Did you want to help?” Gibbs asked, sounding uncharacteristically tentative.
Adamantly shaking his head, Tim said, “No, I wouldn’t want to mess anything up.”
“I have some pieces that need to be sanded first. If you want?”
Tim was unsure but intrigued, so he answered with a slight grin: “Sure I’ll try.”
Gibbs smiled gently before snagging a piece of scrap wood and some sand paper. He said, “First step is to sand off the rough bits and edge.”
Once Tim got started it actually wasn’t too difficult. As he sanded, Gibbs continued to carve the intricate designs. The silenced stretched on until Tim asked, “Did you do this with Kelly?”
As soon as the question left his mouth Tim wished he could take it back. Gibbs didn’t talk about Shannon or Kelly much. There had been a stray remark here and there but nothing really concrete. Taking a peek at Gibbs, Tim saw he had paused in his work and had a faraway look on his face. Just when Tim opened his mouth to apologize, Gibbs finally spoke up as he continued carving the vine and leaf motif into the wood.
“Kelly was a bit young for this. She always wanted to be moving and playing. But sometimes she would keep me company when I worked down here. She would play with her toys at a station I had set up in the corner. Kelly could talk your ear off if you gave her a chance.” Gibbs caught Tim’s eye for a brief moment before continuing, “I enjoyed the company even when she was lost in her own imagination.” He smiled a bit at the memory, “She would make up the most incredible stories and act them out with the stuffed animals.”
Tim listened intently: he was deeply curious. Kelly sounded like a good kid and would have been a great big sister. Tim knew she had been killed before he was born, but he was still sad that he wouldn’t ever get to meet her.
Gibbs continued to tell stories about Kelly and Shannon as they kept working on Ducky’s bookcase. Tim would ask questions here or there to keep the stories coming, and he even got to hear more about his father’s childhood.
~NCIS~
Gibbs told Tim about the day Kelly was born and how she was walking by one and running by one and a half. How Shannon could cook the best spice cake, the kind that would melt in your mouth. Gibbs was surprised how much he was enjoying being able to share with Tim about his wife and daughter. When Tim yawned for the third time, he knew it was time to wrap it up. Gibbs glanced at the clock behind him and saw it was past one in the morning. “It’s late.”
They washed up at the utility sink, and then they walked tiredly up the stairs. Gibbs could tell Tim was profoundly tired, he hoped he would now be able to sleep. As they parted in the hallway, Tim gave him a sleepy wave and a quiet thank you. Going into his own room, Gibbs couldn’t help but smile. He felt that this evening he and Tim had turned a corner, and that maybe Tim was starting to trust him. Hopefully soon his son would feel comfortable enough to open up more about his past.
Chapter Two