Runner guy
One of the problems with growing up rich is that it gets you used to a certain lifestyle. I can almost hear McGee's eyes rolling if I said that out loud. OK: I know eyes rolling don't actually make a noise but you get the idea. And I'm not talking about good food, nice clothes, exotic holidays and servants 'cos I really really try not to talk (or think) about things like that. I'm not a masochist, or do I mean sadist? Anyway, to avoid being like Ducky, I'll stick to the point which is that I grew up with a certain way of life which is difficult to maintain on a US government salary. Don't worry, this isn't a confession that I've accepted bribes or backhanders. I'm not even sure I've ever been offered one. Perhaps it's because I look so obviously honest and incorruptible? Or maybe I look such a schmuck that crooks don't think I have anything worth corrupting? I'll leave it to you to decide.
Anyway, for whatever reason, I'm relying on my government salary to provide the basics. OK, there is 'family' money lying around but I keep quiet about it. You know my father so you know why.
Oops, turns out that I'm more like Ducky than I thought. Right: one of the things I was used to when I was growing up was lots of space. Our house in the Hamptons was massive and had 'expansive' grounds. The boarding schools I went to all had huge grounds and school in Columbus wasn't exactly cramped. So, though I don't shout about it, I like the outdoors. I'll admit I'm not into wildlife and tracking animal spoors like a certain NCIS special agent who sits a few yards from me but that doesn't mean that I don't appreciate being surrounded by greenery and a few trees. Throw in a stretch of water, some bushes and animal life and I'm happy. I might not be able to tell you what the shrubby things or wild animals are but I'm glad they're around. Although I don't need to explain myself to you, but it's sort of a habit, thinking aloud. I wonder if that's how Ducky started? Perhaps I'll ask him one day. When I have time to spare. A lot of time.
So, whenever I've moved house I've tried to choose somewhere near some green space. Obviously I can't afford my own green space: police salaries don't run to those any more than government ones but you get the idea. I like my apartment in DC but what really sold it to me was the park just round the corner. It's a good one, has a trail along the Potomac and I can really lose myself there. Not literally lose myself, of course: I'm a trained federal agent and federal agents don't get lost. Or if they do they don't stay on Leroy Jethro Gibbs' team for long. No, I get lost in another way.
Years of playing sports got me in the habit of taking exercise and I've always liked to run. I'm a pretty social sort of guy but I can cope with my own company so that's why running alone suits me. My esteemed co-workers will tell you I like to run because, now my metabolism has reached middle age, I put on weight more easily. I can't comment on that. Except that they're right. But that's not the only reason I run. Or because I have to meet the NCIS fitness criteria. Although I do. No, running is part of what I am and it keeps me sane. Don't laugh. Or roll your eyes: don't forget I'll hear them spin.
Running gets rid of my pent up energy although there's less of that than there used to be. It also gets rid of my pent up 'emotional' energy but I won't admit that to my co-workers either. The cases we deal with are sometimes boring, often frustrating and frequently tragic. I sometimes wish I had a job where I could prevent bad things happening rather than having to turn up in the wake of a disaster and try to sort things out. I get that revenge and retribution can be satisfying but I can't help but think it would be better if they were never needed. Perhaps I should have gone into teaching instead.
Anyway, most days I run when I get home from work if Gibbs lets us go while there's still daylight. And I run before work unless we get a call in the middle of the night. I run at weekends too if we have one off. You'll have guessed that I don't get to run as often as I want to! Over the years I've run in the local park a few thousand times and I have certain routes depending on the time of year and how much energy I have to burn up and how many ghosts and accusing voices I have to beat into submission, consign to silence.
There are people I meet in the park: not to speak to but to give that joggers' nod to. A real athlete doesn't stop to chat, doesn't break up the carefully planned schedule. Unless it's a pretty girl - sorry, woman. But you'll have guessed that I don't have a regimented timetable, I run when I can and that means I don't meet the same people all the time. That doesn't matter, I don't run to boost my social calendar but there is one guy I see most days – Park Ranger guy.
Park Ranger guy has been there pretty much as long as I've been running in the park. He cuts the grass, picks up garbage, speaks to visitors. Well, he does the park ranger sort of stuff. And he always looks happy, content. And I give him the joggers' nod as well and he nods back gravely. He's usually around, not in a creepy stalkery sort of way but in a 'this is a great place, where else would I be' sort of way. And, don't laugh or do that thing with the eyes, but it makes me feel safe, welcome. Like I said, the park is a great place to be. But I sort of wish I hadn't come today.
Park Ranger guy
When I was eight years old my dad died. Money was short so my mom had to move us to an apartment block. It wasn't much but she paid a few dollars extra in rent because there was a park across the road. She figured that if she couldn't afford a place with a yard one with a park right opposite was the next best thing. My sister and I loved that place and treated it as if it really was our yard. I sometimes wonder what my career choice would have been if it hadn't been for that park but it doesn't keep me awake at night because being a park ranger is pretty much my idea of heaven.
If I'd had my way I'd have left school as soon as it was legal and got a job in a park. Mom was sensible (and firm) and said I had to go to college and get qualifications. Man, did I hate studying! All that time stuck indoors when I could have been outside but she was right. I figure it's in the DNA or a law of nature that moms are always right. Well, mine was anyway. Although, at the time, I thought that studying was a waste of time I'm glad of it now. It meant that I didn't stay at the bottom of the park ranger ladder. Not that I was ambitious; I'm happy doing the basics but going up the rungs a bit means that I get to make some decisions, have some influence. I could have gone up higher by now but I found a place I liked, that feels right to me. Sometimes people say that I should move up, move on but why should I?
I've been working in this park for over ten years now. Do you remember me saying that Louey and I treated our childhood park as if it was our yard? I guess that's how I feel about 'my' park now although I'm happy to share it with other people. I've got to know a lot of people; it makes me feel old but there are some who I knew as teenagers who bring their own children to play on the swings. I've watched trees grow, pruned bushes and encouraged wildlife and it's all been good. I like to see people coming to enjoy the place, run around and let off steam. There are plenty of kids who don't have yards of their own and I'm glad they can share mine.
I see people relaxing and shedding their worries when they come to the park and, in the end, it's things like that which make my job worthwhile. There's one guy in particular who sums up for me what it means to be a park ranger. I call him 'runner guy': he's been running here since I started work. We get lots of joggers in the park but not many seem to enjoy it unless grim faces and feet barely off the ground is a sign of pleasure but runner guy is different. The first time I saw him run past I swear my mouth must have dropped open. His feet were so bouncy I was sure he must have springs in his shoes and he looked happy, gazing round at the scenery and seeming to give it his approval. Most of our joggers can't spare the energy to appreciate their surroundings but he seemed to have enough and to spare.
Over the years he's changed, of course. He was lean and stringy when I first saw him and he's filled out now, more muscular and I guess he might get fat when he stops running. His tread is a bit heavier now and he sometimes frowns as if bad memories are chasing him. I don't know his name or what he does. It must be some odd sort of job as he's in the park at all hours of the day and sometimes he disappears for weeks at a time.
I remember a couple years after he started running that he went missing for the first time and I began to wonder if he'd moved away but then he came back but he was different. He wasn't running for a start but just walking and it looked as if that was a struggle in itself. A few weeks later he started running again but the wheezing was awful. I thought of going up and offering to help but somehow I knew that wouldn't be welcomed so I looked away although I hung around until I was sure that he wasn't going to cough up a lung. It was soon after that he started nodding to me as he ran. I think it was his way of saying thank you for letting him alone. And, of course, I nodded back. Park rangers have a nod, you know. It says 'you're welcome here but use the trash containers provided'.
For me, runner guy sums up why we need parks and why park ranger is the best job in the world. He comes in sometimes looking weighed down and weary but by the time he leaves his head is up and his eyes are clear again. I like watching him. Not in a creepy stalkery sort of way but because he makes me feel happy. Parks are healing places. Until today.
AN: I think there will just be one more chapter to this – but I've been wrong before.
And this isn't going to be slash. Just so you know.