Midnight Pep Talk
Summary: Midway through her first summer at the Naval Academy, Leigh reaches the end of her rope and turns to Gibbs for help. Set in the 'Future Perfect' universe. Notice: original characters.
Disclaimer: They're not mine, I'm just playing with them
A/N: A while ago, Sasha1600 wrote a fluffy little fic called Future Perfect. Then, I had an idea for a story involving a kid asked asked if I could borrow one of the twins from her story for it. She agreed and then the muses took over. To make a long story short, the plot bunnies have multiplied and a collaborative project has developed. Between the two of us, we've got about half a dozen stories mapped out (so far...); we'll be writing and posting stories separately, but they're all part of the same 'universe'. It's set at some amorphous time in the future, with the characters from Sasha's story Future Perfect and my stories Our Family and Absolution as part of the backdrop to the family dynamic. It features two original characters – Kate and Leigh, the twin daughters of Abby and Tim – so if that doesn't appeal to you, please go find something else to read.
This isn't the original kid story I set out to write. That one is still in the works. This is just a rabid plot bunny that woke me up in the middle of the night two nights ago and refused to let go. In this one, Leigh is 18 or so and a newly inducted midshipman at the US Naval Academy. It follows on Sasha's story Career Counselling, but I don't think it's neccessary to have read that one to understand this one.
It was going on toward midnight on a warm August night, and Leroy Jethro Gibbs sat at his basement workbench sketching out designs for furniture he was planning to build. When the cell phone at his side rang, he flipped it open without even bothering to look down, twelve years in the Corps and nearly thirty in NCIS had him long used to phone calls at all hours.
"Yeah, Gibbs," he said gruffly, bring the phone up to his ear. His only reply was hysterical sobbing on the other end of the line. That got his attention. "Who is this?" he said again. Drawing the phone away from his ear, he peered at the screen, squinting to read the tiny numbers that it displayed as he fumbled for his glasses. Glasses located, he recognized the number as belonging to his granddaughter Leigh who had been inducted into the Naval Academy in Annapolis just over a month ago. He brought the phone back up to his ear. "Leigh? What's wrong?"
"I can't do this!" Leigh wailed.
Despite her distress, Gibbs breathed a sigh of relief. This was her 'plebe summer', the Naval Academy equivalent of boot camp. He'd expected this. The whole experience was designed to push a person to their physical and emotional limits. Apparently Leigh had hit hers tonight. "Yes, you can," Gibbs told her, quiet and soothing.
"No, I can't!" Leigh insisted. "I'm so tired I can barely stand, and I can't do anything right anymore! I can't shoot. I can't salute! I can't do anything right!"
"Yes, you can," he countered. "I know you can. I taught you to shoot myself, and you learned a proper salute before you could write your own name."
"I know," she sobbed. "And I still can't do it right. I'm hopeless, a washout, a failure!" At this, she broke into hysterics again, alternately sobbing and wailing.
Gibbs sighed. Crying women, even ones he considered his granddaughter, had never been his strong suit. The fact that this wasn't like Leigh, who was generally tough as nails and confident to a fault, confused him even more. "Come on, Leigh, enough of that," he said gently. When that had no effect, he decided to try a different tack. "Leigh Anne McGee!" he said sternly. "That is enough!"
Leigh froze mid-sob, drawing in a sharp breath, snuffling and hiccoughing like a small child. "Yes, sir," she said softly in a fragile, childlike voice that reminded him strongly of the little girl she had been.
"You listen to me, young lady. You are NOT a failure," he continued.
"But…" Leigh protested.
Gibbs cut her off. "No, no buts. You can do this. And even if you couldn't, it wouldn't make you a failure. But that's not the case, you can do this."
"How do you know?" Leigh asked.
"Because I'm a Marine," Gibbs answered, in a tone that suggested the answer should have been obvious. "Besides, you're not the first newbie I've seen, you know. I know a soldier when I see one, Leigh. I'd have never let you apply if I didn't know you could make it. The only way you can fail now is to quit, and you will not quit. Understood?"
"You really think I can do it?" Leigh asked.
In reply, Gibbs barked, "I said, Is. That. Understood, Midshipman?"
Leigh slid into the role like a second skin. "Understood, Gunny."
Gibbs chuckled. "Oh yeah, you can do this. Now, you need to hit the rack. You get caught out after curfew and your ass is grass."
Leigh groaned, and he could practically hear her shudder. "No kidding. Thanks, Uncle Gibbs."
Gibbs smiled. She hadn't called him uncle since she was sixteen. "I've got your back. Anytime," he told her and hung up the phone.