Written for the Fathers and Sons Challenge
Warning: minor (ah'um) character death + slight spoiler for "The Penelope Papers"
Lyrics from The Living Years by Mike & The Mechanics
"That's really kind of you, Abby. Thank you for your concern, but I'm okay. Really."
With a sigh, Timothy McGee terminated the call and carefully laid the cell phone down on his desk as he stared out of the window absentmindedly.
It was raining. It had been raining intermittently and the clouds lay like a pall over the city.
His mind went over this morning's events which had been sparked off by a jarring phone call in the middle of some fooling around with Tony.
At first, he'd been casting aggravated looks at Tony's antics but once he got his best shot in, they were soon laughing like schoolboys. Not something which happened too often. After all, they were professionals and among the best in their jobs as Federal Agents, albeit with an agency that mostly raised curious eyebrows, squints and the invariable question. "The what?" The calm reply. "NCIS…Naval Criminal Investigative Service, ma'am." The shaking of heads. "Never heard of that before."
With some difficulty, Tim extricated himself from Tony's wrestling hold and managed to pick up his cell.
He cleared his throat. "McGee…"
He listened for a few stunning moments which to him appeared much longer.
When Tony saw his friend sink down in his desk chair and bring a shaking hand to his brow, he instinctively knew something was wrong. Very wrong.
At that moment, Ziva had chosen to return to the room after having taken a break from typing her report. As she seemed about to say something, Tony instantly brought his index to his lips to shut her up, at the same time telling her with his eyes about the seriousness of the situation.
Something was definitely not well with their team mate.
They saw a myriad of emotions parade across his face: incredulity, sorrow, anger and…total and abject loss.
His ashen face and the distant green eyes made them wonder who had died.
"Oh no!" Tony thought, eyes widening as he looked at Ziva.
"Sarah?" Ziva mouthed towards him.
"His mom? Penny?" Tony replied, using the same tactics.
They both came closer to Tim's desk in dreading anticipation.
After what seemed like aeons, Tim put down his cell and stared at it as if still hearing what it had to say to him. As if still trying to grasp what he'd just heard.
"Tim?"
He looked up, a little startled to find them staring down at him.
"What's wrong?" Tony asked, when Tim wasn't too forthcoming.
"Mom…"
Oh no… Tony and Ziva looked at their friend with abject pity.
"We're so sorry, Tim…"
"What?" Then it struck him they were probably on the wrong track, thinking his mother had died. Well, they were close.
"No, no. Not my mom. She…" he swallowed the lump which had suddenly seemed to obstruct his throat. "She got a call informing her about my father… He's…he's dead…" He concluded tonelessly.
He sat back, staring absently at his hand flat on his desk.
-o0o-
In the background, his radio was playing. There was something about the song currently playing which caught his ear.
Every generation, blames the one before
And all of their frustrations, come beating on your door
I know that I'm a prisoner to all my father held so dear
I know that I'm a hostage to all his hopes and fears
His father...the Admiral…like his father before him.
"Like I was expected to be, too, one day." He thought wryly.
Certainly, his father had never left any doubt about how he felt about his son breaking with the tradition of generations of sea going McGees.
Leaning back in his chair, Tim went on listening to the song and marvelled at how appropriate the lyrics seemed to him.
Admiral Douglas 'Doug' Archibald McGee had held such high expectations that, one day, his son would follow in his footsteps, while at the same time, fearing Tim wasn't really cut out for a life at sea.
Seeing himself as the role model for his son, it was like a slap in the face when he had to admit his son didn't have the sailor in him, despite the strict upbringing and education, usually given a 'navy brat' in preparation.
Doug, with his own strong affinity for the sea inherited from previous generations of McGees, found it hard to understand his boy. He'd loved his wife, Libby, to pieces. The sea, on the other hand, was his mistress...another love.
Ergo, he couldn't get past the notion that, if the sea was his love and his life, it should be the same way for his son as well.
However, he couldn't ignore the boy's recurring bouts of seasickness whenever he dragged his little family onto a boat, whether for fishing or for the kids learning the ropes. But it hurt to have to admit his son's...weakness.
Crumpled bits of paper, filled with imperfect thought
Stilted conversations…
How many times had Tim tried to break the continuing alienation from his father?
How many unfinished letters had he written?
Tim couldn't remember how many paper balls he'd tossed in the bin in his frustration. Funny, how he'd tried to put his thoughts down on paper to make up for the lack of communication. Even when they met at family reunions, albeit rare occasions, there was nothing to say. There was only silence.
You say you just don't see it. He says it's perfect sense
You just can't get agreement in this present tense…
So we open up a quarrel between the present and the past
We only sacrifice the future – It's the bitterness that lasts
No, they didn't always agree. His dad was a stubborn man. And Tim being the proverbial chip off the old block, equally held on to his own principles, as well as to his beliefs and his thoughts on how he should lead his own life.
Whenever the Admiral found yet another reason why Timothy McGee should pursue a naval career, Tim would invariably take up a defensive stance; trying to persuade the man otherwise.
It didn't matter to Doug that, as his son grew older, he had the right to set his own course. The expectations he'd held for his only son were overwhelming and his words became harder; more hurtful, more spiteful, more bitter. The longer this was going on, the more Tim felt like he was letting his father down; was letting the family down by not holding on to the tradition of generations of seafaring McGees.
No. To Tim, a future of him having a good relationship with his dad seemed more remote with every conversation they had, until...there was nothing left to say at all.
I wasn't there that morning
When my father passed away
I didn't get to tell him
All the things I had to say
His mother's phone call with the news of his father's death, earlier that day, had now irrevocably taken away any chance of reconciliation, of making up with his father.
It sure was too little too late now and it pained him. His heart ached with the notion of never having taken the chance to mend the fences with his dad.
Long after the song had ended, he pushed himself wearily out of his chair and switched off the radio which was now playing a never ending rap song.
Time to attend to the business of packing some clothes and toiletries into his overnight bag. He'd arranged to pick up Sarah at the dorm and drive to their parents' home.
There were things to see to. Arrangements to make for the funeral.
And, not least of all, comfort his mom and sis.
-o0o-
When they arrived at their parents' home, they had barely got out of the car and walked up to the front door, when they found Libby McGee throwing open the front door, silently beckoning them inside.
Tim was dismayed to see how much and how fast his mother had aged. Of course, losing her mate of a life time hadn't exactly been doing much good to her.
Sarah dropped her bag and stepped up to her mother for a hug; as much for giving as for receiving some much needed comfort. The loss came hard upon Sarah since she'd always been the apple of their dad's eye.
Tim just stood by until his mother finally noticed him standing there somewhat forlorn. She spoke into Sarah's ear to which the girl nodded and stepped back to pick up her luggage and walk on, into the main room.
Tim and his mother looked at one another for a long silent moment.
"He looks just like Doug in his younger years..." Libby thought and it nearly broke her heart a second time.
"Tim..." she finally broke the awkward silence between them.
"Mom..." he rasped, his throat feeling constricted for choking back his tears. Tears for having missed this chance of seeing his father one more time. Alive and well. Tears for all those opportunities missed of doing things with his father. Tears for his mother as well; for her own deep sorrow and grief at losing her partner, the man she'd loved from the first moment till the last...still loving him.
And again...the way his voice broke on the single, simple word...was too reminiscent of Doug's at Tim's age. Soft-spoken, gentle Doug before the Navy and the burden of command hardened him, demanded sacrifices from all of them... It drew the two men further apart. Both too disappointed and cursed with the same pigheadedness. Too much alike.
-o0o-
Admiral Douglas "Doug" Archibald McGee was laid to rest in Arlington National Cemetery with full military honors and the whole interment passed by like a blur to the Admiral's family.
Tim's eyes were fogged as he watched the flag-draped coffin being carried by the guard of honor to his father's last resting place.
As if from a distance, he could hear the Secretary of the Navy, Clayton Jarvis address those present: "Admiral Douglas "Doug" Archibald McGee served his country with honor, courage and commitment throughout his active and dynamic life. His career was distinguished by his dedication and strong leadership..."
Sarah bit back a sob and closed her eyes at the firing of the 17 gun salute as the casket was lowered. She felt her frame shake with every single volley.
Upon conclusion of the service, there was a particularly poignant moment when Libby was presented the meticulously folded U.S. flag. She'd been so stoic; as befit an Admiral's wife. But, being thus presented the twelfth fold symbolic tribute, her reserve broke and she felt her knees grow weak.
Libby offered Tim a tearful smile in thanks for lending her his supportive arm. He wasn't even sure if she was really seeing him, or his dad...
His gaze went to Penny, his grandmother, holding up as well as she could. After all, she'd been through this before, when her own husband, also an Admiral and father to Doug, had passed away. But eventually, even she had to surrender to her grief.
With a hand shake, Tim accepted the many and heartfelt condolences and prayers from people he didn't know…people who had worked with his dad. People who probably had known his father better than he ever had. Naval people… People of the sea. People like his father and therefore a breed apart.
After conveying his condolences to Libby, Clayton Jarvis approached Tim, taking his hand in both of his own, his face displaying genuine emotions such as the team had rarely witnessed before. "Agent McGee, the passing of your father, Admiral Douglas McGee, has deeply saddened us. He was greatly respected..."
With a little extra squeeze, he let go of Tim's hand and followed the other mourners, leaving Tim, his mother, Sarah and Penny alone by the grave.
Libby was clutching the folded flag to her chest.
Tim tore his eyes away from the grave and noticed his team were still there at a respective distance, acting like sentinels.
Directing his gaze towards the skies above, he blinked away a tear.
"Dad, I'm gonna miss you…I've already missed you."
He stepped closer to his mother and sister, and, taking their hands, he led them away to the waiting car.
I just wish I could have told him in the living years...
"...how much I loved him, no matter what. His intentions were good. Only...they didn't work out for me..."
Before following Libby, Sarah and Penny inside the car, he cast a last look at his father's grave.
A zephyr ruffled his hair and he'd have sworn he saw a tall, young man in naval uniform, standing beside the grave. Even at this distance, the man's features resembled his own as he was looking in Tim's direction and slowly raised his hand in a military salute.
Tim smiled ruefully and touched his temple with his right hand in a small salute back to his father, whispering:
Fair winds and following seas, sir.
FIN