Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction. The characters are borrowed from the CBS network show NCIS for personal entertainment purposes only. No profit is or shall be made from this fan tribute to the show which is owned by TPTB. Any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental.
A/N: My thanks to those who have already read my first story! Special thanks for the kind reviews! I was so happy about being favorited and followed too, so here's a new take for all of you!
A/N: NCIS 2009 - Tag to "Child's Play", season 07, ep. 09 - Gibbs, Ducky, (Shannon).
Thanksgiving Ever After
(by VG LittleBear/vglb)
Leroy Jethro Gibbs closed the door of his car softly. It was after midnight when he'd left Dr Mallard's home. His team had done the dishes, and cleaned up before heading home, while he'd sat with Ducky in the library sipping their last cup of tea. He wouldn't have minded a shot of bourbon, but not at the risk of driving home drunk.
"You didn't answer my question this afternoon, Jethro." said the old doctor.
"If I knew the bakery close to my place?" deflected Gibbs.
The doctor sighed, "No, that's not the one, and you know it! Where did you go for the last nine years on Thanksgiving when I couldn't find you?"
"Why is it so important that you'd know?
"I'm concerned for you, that's all. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want me to know. At least I saw you laugh tonight. You should do it more often!" smiled the elderly M.E.
"Not likely, Duck, with the kind of work we do."
"That reminds me of a professor I had at university, a grimmer man you've never met! He never cracked a smile, until ..." and Ducky was off to a lengthy tale about his student days in Edinburgh.
Gibbs was aware he had once more succeeded in dodging Ducky's question. He listened attentively to his friend's ramblings. At work he usually cut him off after a sentence, or two, but there was no rush now. Truth to tell, he rather enjoyed listening to the stories Ducky told. Besides, he had learned a great deal of general culture just by listening. He suspected that the good doctor knew he was dispensing a great deal of knowledge through his tales, but it was such an integral part of his personality, that all he required was a body, dead or alive, to start him off. Gibbs smiled at the thought that M.E. Assistant Palmer seemed a perfect match for his friend, the M.E.
Having made it home safely, Gibbs stepped up to his porch. He was not too surprised to discover a few covered dishes next to his door. His retired neighbors had once again made sure he didn't miss out on Thanksgiving dinner. Knowing them, there would be the makings for a nicely thick submarine sandwich, and a big slice of home baked pumpkin pie. And it was never leftovers, as he knew they brought it over before their guests arrived. The Ericson's had asked him to join their Thanksgiving dinner ever since Shannon and Kelly died, but he always declined. Fortunately they understood. The neighbors had done some mighty fine babysitting with Kelly back in the day, when he wanted to take Shannon out for a romantic evening. He had some lovely memories of his wife to thank them for.
Early next morning, dressed in casual slacks, and an old Marine Corps T-shirt, Gibbs toasted the French baguette that had come along with the turkey slices, slathered mustard on the nicely fuming bread, then piled on his favorite ingredients. The former Marine brewed coffee, then poured himself a cup and filled up his thermos.
Remembering that he had stowed his hamper in the hallway closet, he pulled it out, and set everything into it, including the pie. He got a nice dish towel out of the cupboard, added a few paper towels, then dropped off everything in his car's trunk. Getting his favorite red hoodie, he pulled it on, then went to cut the last roses still on his bushes. This year the red and white roses had been plentyful, and he was glad both had lasted until the holidays.
He grabbed a sufficient supply of wood for a fire and stocked it in his trunk. Once more moving into his house, he quickly wrapped the flowers to take along, grabbed a warm jacket, and got into his Dodge Challenger.
First stop was at the cementary, where Shannon and Kelly lay buried. He liked to be early before any other mourners would show up. Jethro lovingly positioned his flowers, then he straightened up, knees popping loudly in the crisp autum air. At this he chuckled, and speaking towards Shannon's grave, he said "Can you imagine, me ever lasting long enough to get creaking joints? I didn't think I'd make it without you guys. But you don't have to worry about me. Jack and I keep talking, you'd be so proud Shann. I've got a great team, and wonderful friends. Even celebrated Thanksgiving at Ducky's house yesterday."
Jethro smiled again, thinking how Ducky had tried to get him to open up. He wondered if he should just tell him about his little pilgrimage. There wasn't really anything secret about it. Not like in the first years, when Mike Franks had been afraid of letting him out of his sight on Thanksgiving, for fear that he'd use his service revolver on himself. Once more looking over the graves, he was satisfied that everything looked in good order.
Blowing a kiss towards his girls' graves, he whispered, "I'll be back next year!"
The sun had started to warm up the air, so Gibbs turned his car towards the beach where he used to go picnicking with his family. It had been one of their favorite places, and he returned there every Thanksgiving after visiting the graves of his wife and child. Since his last coma, he'd been having renewed flashbacks of their time at the beach. He didn't mind though, as it was a good memory to have.
Gibbs parked the car and filled his cup with hot coffee from his thermos. He was going to look if he could find seashells closer to the water before eating. The old picnick spot still looked inviting and it seemed quite pleasantly warm now. On impulse, he pulled out his phone.
He had to open the address book to find Dr Mallard's landline, not wanting to disturb Ducky on his cell if he was off somewhere. But barely rung, the phone was picked up.
"Duck!" said Gibbs.
"Why hello, Jethro! Is everything alright?" came back Ducky's voice slightly worried.
"I'm good, Duck! About yesterday ..."
"Is this about my question, Jethro? You know I wouldn't force ..."
"I know! I'm down the seaside with my submarine sandwich. You wanna picnick with me?"
"Of course I'd love to! Let me throw together a sandwich of my own. If you give me directions, I'll be there as fast as I can."
"Take your time, Duck, it's quite early yet, and I got seashells to find. Just honk your horn when you see my Challenger!"
"Will do!"
Gibbs provided directions, then slapped his phone closed in the usual manner. Grabbing a pail out of the trunk of his car, he went seashell hunting. By the time he had found enough to decorate his next batch of wooden toys, he felt a bit chilled. He had brought along wood from home, leaving the driftwood to the wildlife. He put the pail away and went to collect the wood supply from the car.
By the time he heard Ducky's Morgan roll up, he had a nice fire going, and was whittling away on a train shape in alder wood. Ever since he had decided to donate wooden toys to the children's ward at the hospital for Christmas, he had taken to carrying smaller pieces with him, to work on whenever he had a moment. Today he had even taken a special whittling knife, and a stone to sharpen the tool.
"Jethro, I see you didn't get bored!" exclaimed Ducky.
Gibbs said evenly, "I'm never bored, there is always work to do!"
Ducky moved around to the Morgan's left door and somehow extracted two folding chairs and a table.
Gibbs raised an eyebrow in astonishment. "Hey Duck, you know it's a picnick, not the Queen's birthday."
"Just help me move it into place, would you, Jethro?" grumbled Ducky. "It's too cold for sitting on stones!"
"Well, I've been sitting on a plaid which I spread over the stones, and this is the only place protected from the wind. I think you'd be better served sitting beside me. I can even bring you a cushion. We can use the chairs as side tables if you wish." suggested Gibbs.
"Okay then!" agreed Ducky also had a gallon of water, tea leaves, and a tea kettle he proudly displayed. Jethro nodded to indicate that they could set it boiling in the fire. Gibbs had the wooden branch he had pulled from the water earlier to stir the fire. It would also serve to move the kettle.
"What else you got?" inquired Gibbs.
"Cranberry juice, a big slice of apple pie, and a rye sandwich." listed the doctor.
Gibbs said: "I got a big slice of pumpkin pie, baguette sandwich, and my coffee."
Ducky smiled, "That makes a nice selection. Shall we share everything down the middle?"
"Rule number 23!" mock threatened the former Marine.
"Okay, you get to keep the coffee!" grinned Ducky, "You can still have tea though, and I brought a six pack of beer to go with the sandwiches."
The two of them didn't take long to set everything up. Soon the friends were happily munching away on their sandwiches and guzzling their beer. Ducky claimed a smaller part of Jethro's sub sandwich as it was at least twice as big as his own originally. He'd never be able to finish it, let alone have pie afterwards. There was no talking, only a contented sigh here and there.
Their hunger stilled, Jethro helped Ducky pour tea, filled his own cup with more coffee, and settled against the stones at his back. That was when Ducky noticed the flowers that Gibbs had placed on a nice kitchen towel on the folding chair by his side.
"Flowers, Jethro?"
"Red and white roses, more specifically, part of my family tradition, Duc." started Jethro. "We always used to come to this beach on Thanksgiving, and I'd give Shannon the last of the red roses, and Kelly got the white ones."
"That's beautiful, Jethro! So you kept on doing it through the years?"
"Yes, but now I first go to the cementary to unload all but one each of the roses on Shannon and Kelly's graves. I was there first thing this morning and gave them a sitrep. I only go once a year, they are not really there after all."
"My friend, I'm so sorry. No wonder you usually disappeared for Thanksgiving." Ducky's empathy was running high.
"It's alright, Duck. I didn't want to make my whereabouts such a mistery. It's just that the first couple of years were rough, and Mike was afraid for me. You know, he actually turned up for Thanksgiving after I got blown up again. We killed a couple of bottles on this beach, at least I did. I was sick for three days afterwards." Gibbs shook himself. He had seriously modified his drinking habits since. He cut himself off after a few shots now. He had too much to do to being able to afford lying around in a drunken stupor. And he stopped bringing alcohol to the beach. Although the beer today was kinda nice.
Ducky kept silent, it was unusual for Gibbs to talk much, so he let Jethro run on without interruptions. But it seemed that was all now. "Jethro, what made you call me today?"
"Well, it geared up to a beautiful, sunny day. And I didn't want to spend it alone. Shannon wouldn't have wished for me to sit alone with my sandwich for company either. And I called you as you are my friend."
Ducky nodded emphatically. "Yes, I am. I hope you know you can call me anytime, Jethro. If you just want company, a friend, or both. Anytime, day or night!"
"I know, Duck, thanks!" Gibbs nodded back.
"What say you, ready for some pie?" said Ducky, trying to lighten the mood.
Gibbs brightened considerably, "Lets do it!"
Distributing the pies equally among them was a challenge, but when Ducky pulled out a whipped cream dispenser, Gibbs groaned, "Are you trying to kill me? I have you know I'm Super Special Agent Gibbs of the best Major Case Response Team this side of the country!"
Ducky stopped short before rolling his eyes, "That's wicked, Jethro! Never knew SSA stood for Super Special Agent. I always thought Anthony was the one with the wicked humor in this team, but I guess he learned it from the master!"
- fine -
A/N: Gibbs Rule # 23: Never mess with a Marine's coffee ... if you want to live!
A/N: I hope you enjoyed my story. If you did, please let me know! TIA