Children in His Hands

Summary: NCIS fanfiction, following the episode 'Jetlag'. After everything cools down, McGee realizes he never thanked Gibbs for pushing him out of the way of the car. He also realizes that he's never done anything for the man who's protected him, guarded him, and trained him, and watched over him for almost five years. So he does the only thing he can think of, he goes to Gibbs house to say thank you. But a simple thanks becomes a much more meaningful discussion between the two, and McGee finally understands the motive behind the actions of the man he admires the most.

********

McGee sat nervously behind the wheel of his car and stared at the front door only a few yards away. He'd thought, originally, that this was the right thing to do. But now, sitting in front of Gibbs' house, looking at his door, he was much less sure. He'd never been here before, only heard Tony and Zhiva, and Ducky mention anything about the place. But he knew it was his boss's private retreat, where he went to think, to be left alone, and to relax. He was suddenly very uncertain about invading the man's privacy, especially after the day they'd had.

McGee sighed, slumping at the wheel. First they'd discovered the dead marine, then discovered he was a hit man, hired to kill the witness Tony and Zhiva were protecting on the flight home from Paris. Then they'd discovered that they'd only located the tip of a large iceberg; a free-for-all assassination attempt, with potentially dozens of players. It had only been Gibbs' quick mind and stubborn determination that had helped them locate the killer in the air. That and the fact that she'd killed an air marshal which gave Tony, and therefore Abby, the critical fingerprint. And then, after all that, they'd gone to find the mind behind the scheme. And that was where things got rough.

McGee winced, remembering the car, driven by their target, hurtling toward them. Remembering Gibbs' shout, and the strong hand pushing him away and down, out of danger. And then…he'd looked up just in time to see the car strike his mentor, hitting him hard enough that Gibbs had done a half-flip and rolled, crashing to the pavement with enough force to wind him. McGee had heard his boss cry out, more of a gasp, but he hadn't realized just then how much damage the car had done. He hadn't realized until he looked up from pulling Daniel out of the car, that Gibbs was having trouble standing. That he was in too much pain to straighten, and his shoulder was at a crazy angle.

Even then, Gibbs had put a brave face on it. Just thrown him the handcuffs and walked off. But afterward, he'd disappeared to Autopsy, to Ducky, and reappeared in a sling. McGee had gone to Ducky later, and gotten the details. Severe bruising along the right side of his body. The shoulder had been dislocated, and the clavicle snapped. There were a couple ribs that might be cracked, though Ducky couldn't say for sure because Gibbs hadn't let him look that closely. But he almost definitely had a concussion, if a relatively mild one, and Ducky had privately confided that he wouldn't be surprised if he'd damaged his knee as well. Certainly, he'd been limping slightly.

McGee sighed, shaking the thoughts from his mind. He looked up at Gibbs' door again. A part of him said to just go home. To forget this crazy idea, and let the man rest. But…there was something he needed to say. He swallowed hard. Actually, there were a lot of things he needed to say to Gibbs, but 'thank you' was the most important. He'd realized, after everything settled down, that he'd never thanked Gibbs for protecting him. But of course, but the time he'd realized that, Gibbs had been long gone. He'd considered waiting, but he knew that the next time he saw Gibbs at the office, they'd be back in the normal routine. Thanking him then would look silly, and Gibbs would probably give him one of those faintly disbelieving looks, the kind that said 'What, now?' Besides, McGee really couldn't explain it, but something in his gut was telling him that he needed to say it now.

He took a deep breath, then stepped out of his car, locked the door, and walked up to the house. Alert as Gibbs usually was around the office, he wouldn't have been surprised if the man had met him at the door. But, though the front room light was on, the door remained shut. McGee coughed once, nervously, then knocked hard on the thick oak panel in front of him.

There was no answer. McGee blinked. He knew Gibbs was home, because his car was in the driveway. And the lights were on. He didn't think Gibbs was the type to waste energy by leaving the lights on. He knocked harder. There was still no answer. McGee checked his watch. It was almost nine in the evening. It was a little late, and they'd had a long day, but it still seemed odd that Gibbs would be asleep at this hour. Maybe he simply hadn't heard the knocks. After all, according to what he'd heard, Gibbs was frequently down in the basement, working on…whatever it was he worked on. Boats, usually, though he'd heard Tony mention that the boss had found a new hobby lately.

McGee sighed. Maybe Tony and Zhiva felt fine about just walking in, but he didn't. McGee reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the notebook he usually kept with him. It wasn't nearly as good as saying the words in person, but if Gibbs was resting he wasn't going to disturb him. Besides, writing was more his forte anyway. He flipped open to a blank page, then carefully wrote out a quick message.

Boss,

I just wanted to say thank you for protecting me today. I know…I didn't say anything at the time, but I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate what you did for me. I'm sorry that you got hurt because you were protecting me. I hope you recover soon. Thank you.

All my gratitude,

Timothy McGee

McGee looked at the note and sighed. It really was inadequate, especially with everything he wanted to say. But everything he wanted to say would probably take the whole notebook. Perhaps he'd get another chance to say what he really meant later. For now, this would have to do.

He ripped the page out of the notebook, then folded it and put his name on the back, and addressed it to Gibbs. He almost turned to put it in the mailbox but he wasn't sure when, or if, Gibbs actually checked his mail. Presumably, he paid his bills, but McGee didn't want to risk the note getting lost in the clutter. He reached forward, intending to jam it into the handle.

The door handle under his fingers twisted a little, then suddenly rotated with a click and gave. McGee froze as the door shifted, swinging inward slightly. Somehow, even though he'd heard that Gibbs never locked his door, he hadn't expected it to be unlocked now. He hesitated a moment, then carefully pushed it open a little further. He'd already opened it, he might as well look inside. His heart was hammering at the thought. He swallowed, wondering what on earth he was doing. Then he remembered Gibbs condition. It wouldn't hurt to make sure his boss was all right. After all, if he left the note, Gibbs would know he was there anyway. Might as well make sure he'd identified himself, so Gibbs couldn't accuse him of sneaking around the place. Knowing Gibbs, he'd probably bring it up in the middle of the staff room, with Tony and Zhiva listening in. And then it would be the talk of the team for weeks.

McGee stuck his head in the door cautiously. He didn't see anyone, or anything to indicate where Gibbs might be. He swallowed nervously, then called out, "Umm…boss?"

"Yeah, McGee?" McGee jumped as Gibbs appeared in the doorway off to the left. He'd forgotten how quietly the man could move. Gibbs simply stood there, wearing a quizzical expression on his face. One eyebrow was slightly raised, and the light coming around him showed the faintly disbelieving look in his eyes, the almost frown on his mouth. They stared at each other for a few moments, and then the eyebrow rose further. "Did you need something, McGee? Or were you just trying to waste my power?"

"Umm, no. I mean…yes?" McGee blushed, and scrambled to pull himself together. "No, boss I wasn't trying to waste your power. I did have something I wanted to say to you, but you weren't answering your door, so I was just going to leave you a note. But then the door opened, and I thought I'd check and see if you were all right…" He trailed off at the expression on Gibbs' face, and the awareness of the fact that he was beginning to babble like an idiot. "Sorry, boss. I didn't mean to barge in. It's just the door wasn't locked…"

"Don't believe in locks on doors." Gibbs broke through his words. The older man sighed a little. "You had something you wanted to say to me?"

"Ummm, yes." McGee shifted slightly. He could see, by the light behind Gibbs, that his mentor looked tired, drawn and in pain. He shook his head slightly. "But it can probably just wait until later. Or, I could just leave the note…I don't want to disturb you."

"Already did that. You might as well come in and say whatever it is you have to say." Gibbs sighed again, then crossed the hall, heading for what looked like a small kitchen. He was halfway into the kitchen before McGee could properly register the fact that Gibbs was actually inviting him in. Then his boss stopped in the doorway and cocked an eyebrow at him. His uninjured hand rose, and an exasperated look crossed his face. "McGee!" McGee jumped, and focused on Gibbs. Gibbs waved his hand in an exaggerated 'come here' gesture. "Come on. And shut the door behind you."

"Yes boss." McGee leapt across the threshold, the turned and carefully shut the door. He followed Gibbs into the kitchen, just in time to see Gibbs straighten from the fridge, a beer in hand.

Gibbs popped the top of the beer, grimacing as the movement jarred his injured arm, then raised his blue eyes to look at his subordinate. "Drink? I got water, beer, a little soda…and I think there's some decent bourbon downstairs." He looked around. "And there's coffee somewhere around here."

"Water…water is fine." McGee swallowed, still struggling to process the idea of being in Gibbs' house.

"Great. Cups in that cabinet." Gibbs gestured. "Ice in the freezer, and water's in the tap. I'll be in the living room." He took the beer and vanished back through the door.

McGee went to the indicated cabinet and opened it. Mostly, there were mugs. He grabbed one at random, then went to the fridge. There wasn't an ice dispenser, but he opened the door to find an ice tray. He broke out some cubes. A part of his mind was rather startled, it had been years since he'd seen a place that didn't have an ice dispenser, but then he shrugged it off. This was Gibbs. Not having an ice dispenser was normal for the man. He put the tray back, filled the glass from the faucet, and left the kitchen, heading for the room that Gibbs had emerged from.

Gibbs was sitting on the sofa, sipping the beer while his eyes lingered on the far wall. McGee noted that he'd changed into a tee-shirt and loose pants. He also noted how Gibbs was sitting, very carefully, not leaning back into the sofa, but not leaning forward either. His hand, the one with the beer, dropped to rest his elbow on his knee, and then Gibbs looked up at him. "You gonna stand there? Or were you going to come in and tell me what's on your mind?"

"Oh, right. Sorry boss." McGee looked around, spotted the chair near the sofa, and moved over to sit in it. He swallowed, then took a drink of water. "Umm, well…"

"Spit it out, McGee." The blue eyes showed a touch of impatience.

"Yes boss." McGee swallowed again, and tried frantically to reorder his thoughts into something coherent. He'd gotten used to talking to Gibbs normally, or almost normally, when it came to work, but this was different. He took a deep breath, then decided to simply start talking. "I realized, after work today, that I didn't actually thank you. For getting me out of the way of Daniel's car. So…I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate what you did for me. And to say I'm sorry you got injured. And if there's anything I can do for you…" He trailed off, because Gibbs was giving him that odd look again. The patented Gibbs stare of 'what, now?'.

Gibbs stared at him for a moment longer, that inscrutable expression on his face. Then he took another swallow of beer. His words, when he spoke, were slow, his voice tinged with disbelief. "You drove all the way out here, at this time of night…to say thank you?" He took another swallow of beer. "Could have said that at the office."

"Yes. Umm, yes I could. But we were so busy, and by the time I realized, you'd already left." McGee took a quick drink of water, then continued. "I was just going to leave a note at your desk, but then I…I realized something. And when I did, I decided that maybe I should tell you…in person." He faltered to a stop. He simply wasn't sure how to say what he wanted to, nor how Gibbs would take it.

"Yeah? So…what was the big revelation, McGee?" McGee looked at him, and Gibbs shrugged with his good shoulder, slight amusement mixing with the other things in his eyes. "You're here, you've already started talking. Might as well go all the way."

"Yes boss." McGee took a drink, another breath to steady himself. "It's just that, I realized…I've been working with you for almost five years now. And you've been…well, you've done a lot for me. You trained me how to be an agent. You worked with me, showed me how to get things done. That thing with my sister, and with that undercover cop…." It had been years ago, but he knew Gibbs would remember. He could still see that day, in the elevator, when Gibbs had confronted him. He'd been angry, not at McGee's actions, but at the fact McGee hadn't trusted him enough to let him know what was going on. McGee went on. "And earlier this year, that thing when we got busted for borrowing evidence…"

"You got a point, McGee?"

"Yes. I noticed, all these years, you've been behind me, behind all of us. And I've never really thanked you for all the times you stood up for me, or helped me. Or even just for being my mentor. Most of the time, it just seems like it's just a part of the job." He took a slightly deeper breath. "But then something happens, like today, and I realize that it's more than that. So I…just thought you should know. What it means to me, to be working with you. And that I appreciate everything you've done for me."

"You make it sound like you're planning on leaving."

McGee blinked. "No. Not at all. I just…well…" He looked away. "Boss, I went down and talked to Ducky. He told me how much you were hurt. And I realized…that car could have put you in the hospital again, maybe even…"

"Maybe killed me?" Gibbs snorted, mild amusement playing across his face. "I'm a little tougher than that, McGee."

"I know. But I've also seen people get killed by cars before." McGee sighed and stood up. "Anyway, I'm sorry to bother you. I just thought you should know that I appreciate you."

"McGee, sit down." The amusement was gone from Gibbs' voice, replaced with that quiet commanding tone. That almost fatherly tone Gibbs used on all of them, at one point or another. McGee sat. "Why are you so worried about this all of a sudden? I've been hurt before."

"I know. But… you were protecting me."

"So a part of this is…you feel guilty."

He hadn't thought about it like that, but once said, it was very obvious. He looked up, meeting the blue eyes with his own. "I guess so." He sighed and looked away. "I'm sorry boss. I should have moved faster. Tony was right, I screwed up. It won't happen again."

"It'll happen again." McGee looked up, shocked and hurt, but there was no accusation, no anger in those eyes. Gibbs shrugged. "It happens, McGee. People make mistakes. You're gonna make mistakes, get into trouble. It's part of the job. Tony will too, and Zhiva. Probably even me, occasionally. And if you're lucky, someone will be there to bail you out. Like today. And you'll feel guilty. Just remember what happens, and try to avoid it next time."

"Yes boss." McGee sighed. "I just don't like the fact that you got hurt getting me out of the way."

"I never liked it either." A small ghost of a smile touched Gibbs' face, then vanished into the shadows of memories. "But it happens."

McGee looked at his mentor. Gibbs was always so strong, so capable. "Did anyone ever get hurt protecting you, boss?"

"Yeah." There was sudden pain in the other man's eyes. "Yeah, McGee. That's kinda how Kate died. But it's happened other times too."

McGee winced. "Sorry boss." He hadn't meant to bring up such painful memories.

"Stop apologizing, McGee. It's getting old. Besides, like I said, it comes with the job." Gibbs took another long drink of beer. "If it bothers you, you do a better job, or you quit."

"I know. I was just wondering how you come to grips with it. With something like that." McGee flushed. Somehow, this was getting a lot more personal than he'd intended. But it was too late to take the words back.

"You do what you have to. It's different for everyone. I usually go catch the bad guys." Gibbs took a drink. "Or carve boats." Another swallow. "I don't think it's quite your style."

"Well, not the carving boats thing…no." McGee thought back to other times of frustration. "I usually just like to write."

"There you go." Gibbs sat back. "So, why aren't you writing now?"

"I don't know. I just felt like I had to talk to you." McGee took another drink of water. He wasn't sure why he was still here, he'd said his thank you at least three times, apologized more than once and more or less said everything that needed to be said. But something in his gut wasn't letting him leave. Perhaps it was that still, intent look on Gibbs' face, the silent solemnity. Perhaps, it was the memory of that sharp flash of pain in his face. Perhaps it was how vulnerable, how tired Gibbs looked, sitting there in his loose clothing with the sling holding one arm and the lines of pain bracketing the corners of his mouth. McGee realized he was staring, that he should say something, even if it was just to take his leave. "Boss…"

"Anyone ever tell you why I became an agent?" The question came out of the blue, surprising him. But the look in Gibbs' eyes suggested there was a point to it.

"Ummm, no." McGee frowned. "Agent Franks mentioned…you had a daughter…and your wife…" He stopped, unwilling to push the boundaries.

"Yeah. That's them." The hand with the beer pointed to the spot above the fireplace.

McGee looked, then stood to take a better look. There were two pictures. Actually, three, but two had been folded carefully together to make a single photo. One was of Gibbs, much younger, sitting with a red-haired woman and an auburn haired child. All of them were smiling. The other was of a young woman, blond and in her early twenties, standing beside Gibbs in NCIS. Folded next to it was a picture of the auburn haired girl, someone else's arm thrown over her shoulders. The pictures had been set together in a way that made it look as if Gibbs were embracing both of them. McGee looked back at the man sitting on the couch. "This is your daughter, Kelly, right?" He looked back at the photos. "She was very cute. Bet she would have been really pretty." It was a rather inane thing to say, but he couldn't think of anything else.

"Yeah. But I'm never going to get the chance to find out." Gibbs rose from the sofa and came to stand beside him, eyes far away. "Thing is, my daughter died, because she and her mother wanted to do the right thing. They wanted to stop someone from getting away with something. So now, I'm not ever going to know what kind of adult she would have been."

"I bet she would have been a really wonderful person." McGee knew that he admired the man beside him, more than anything. He looked at the photos. The girl in them had her father's eyes, even then. "So, you joined NCIS to prevent that from happening again."

"Yeah." Gibbs took another drink. "Thing is, McGee, that most times we don't find out anything's wrong until someone gets hurt. It's a little late then. And after that, all we can do is try to make it right. Put the guys responsible behind bars. Maybe we protect someone else. Maybe we don't."

"But it's still worth it."

"Yeah." Gibbs looked at the picture. "When I first got assigned a team, I didn't have a clue what to do with them. Bunch of kids, green, barely knew how to tie their own shoes. But you all had one thing in common. You wanted to do the right thing. You wanted to make the world a better place."

"I still do." McGee wasn't sure where Gibbs was going, but he was sure that he still valued his job.

"I know. That's what makes it worth it." He set the beer on the mantle, then tapped his arm, the one in the sling. "You, Tony, Zhiva…you're my team. It's my job to keep you safe. To protect you, so you can do what's right. And if it means getting hurt…well, it comes with the territory."

McGee looked at Gibbs for a moment, then back at the photos on the mantle. He was suddenly seeing a connection, but it seemed a little too crazy to be true. Gibbs couldn't possibly mean what McGee thought he meant. He decided to voice it aloud anyway. The worst it could earn him was a slap upside the head. "So…you want to protect us, the way you wish someone had protected your daughter, and your wife?"

"Yeah, that's about the size of it."

McGee was floored. He hadn't expected to be right. He knew how Gibbs felt about his wife and child. After the incident that had caused his brief retirement, everyone knew. "Boss…."

"I'm never gonna know what Kelly would have been like. I don't get to know her as an adult. But I know you, McGee. And Tony. And Zhiva and Abby. Even Palmer." Gibbs was staring at the mantle. "I figured, when I retired, that that was the end of it. But when I came back, I realized…I don't really want to abandon you." Gibbs retrieved the beer, took a long drink. "Doesn't matter what Kelly would have been like. If she'd have been like you, or completely different. She's not here. You are. So right now, it's you I'm gonna keep an eye on." He took another drink, finishing the bottle. "Understand me now, McGee?"

McGee nodded, swallowing hard against the sudden lump in his throat. Actually, he understood Gibbs better than he'd ever really wanted to. He'd known for a long time, how much he admired, and even loved the older man, like a second father to him. It was one of the reasons he'd made Gibbs the main character of his books. The man was such an integral part of his life, he couldn't imagine anyone else to fill the role. And he knew the others, especially Abby, had similar feelings. But he'd never thought Gibbs would see him as a family too. He took a drink of water, trying to think of something to day that wouldn't embarrass both of them. What he settled on was pathetically weak, but it would have to do. "Thanks. So…see you at work, boss?"

"I keep telling you, don't call me boss."

"Right. Gibbs." McGee finished his water. "Ummm, thank you for talking with me. I don't think I have anything else I wanted to say, so… was there anything else you wanted to tell me?"

"I think we've got it covered. See you at work."

"Right. See you at the office, Gibbs." McGee took his cup back to the kitchen. Gibbs followed him, set the empty bottle beside the trash. He went to the door, opened it, then turned to face the silent man behind him. "You should really get some rest."

"Yeah, McGee, I think I can figure that out." The old irony and amusement was back in his voice. McGee flushed automatically.

"Right. See you later." He left then, shutting the door behind him, and hurried down to the car. It wasn't until he'd pulled out and started on the road home that he let himself think about that strange conversation.

To protect him like his child. He'd never thought of any of them as being Gibbs' children. And yet, they all were in a way. They'd all been shaped by his words, his actions, his unfailing example. He thought of Tony, who was becoming more like Gibbs with every year. Of Zhiva, who looked up to Gibbs, and turned to him when she turned to no one else. And of himself, the way Gibbs had changed his life. They were all Gibbs' children. Not by blood, but by ties greater than that. He saw the second photo on the mantle, the one where Gibbs appeared to have his arms around the two girls. It wasn't hard, to picture Gibbs standing in a similar manner with his team. His arms outstretched to hold them close. Protecting his children.

Author's Note: This is just a little something that popped into my head. Watching the way Gibbs is always looking out for his team, this just seemed appropriate somehow.