Ghoulies

Leroy Jethro Gibbs carefully opened his front door and entered his home gingerly, wincing each time his foot actually made contact with the ground. Pain radiated from his knee to his ankle and he clenched his jaw in anticipation of crossing the room.

Dreading that journey had been the right approach. When he finally reached the sofa he fell back against the cushions with a grunt. A wave a resultant pain swept over him and he waited for it to pass before using both hands to grasp his leg behind the knee and prop it on the coffee table.

Unfortunately, that attempt ushered in another arc of pain.

Jethro reluctantly dug the bottle of pain pills Ducky- the incomparable Dr. Ducky Mallard- had provided him after his exam the hour before. Over Jethro's arguments Ducky had ordered him home for the rest of the day. Their NCIS Director echoed the command and reiterated that falling off a curb while actively pursuing a scumbag constituted a work related injury and therefore, Jethro was benched for the rest of the day.

Smirking at the pronouncement, Dr. Mallard added that Agent Gibbs could certainly catch up on sleep during the enforced recovery.

Jethro had disagreed and grumbled that Ducky compromised civilian and non-civilian safety by keeping him away from his job.

"I'm sure Washington will survive things that go bump in the night for one afternoon without you at the helm," Ducky contradicted.

Jethro had just glared and done his best to stalk to the elevator without further aggravating his knee.

Now in the privacy of his home and from the safety of his couch the agent admitted to himself that the pain's intensity cut him to the core. He shook out two of the pills from the bottle and swallowed them dry, unwilling to move his leg to brave the trek to the kitchen for something to drink.

Leaning against the sofa's cushioned back he closed his eyes and waited for the stabbing pain to slow.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" Terrified screams awoke Jethro Gibbs and he bolted out of bed and hurried to the bedroom his boys shared.

Four year old Tim stood on top of his bed and thrust out his arms the moment his father appeared, fear evident from his tears and frightened expression.

Grabbing the terrified child against his chest, Gibbs felt the preschooler's heart pounding through his pajama top. Murmuring assurances, he cupped a hand on the top of the little boy's silky blond hair and then began rhythmically stroking the little cheeks and forehead to comfort him. Tim shuddered against him and it took almost a full two minutes before the father had him calm enough to identify the source of his terror.

Luckily, across the room six year old Tony had stirred but not awoken with the commotion. Gibbs narrowed his eyes appraisingly to confirm that his eldest had slipped back into dreamland.

Evidently his girls, three year old Abby and five year old Kate, had also slept through the scene from their room across the hall.

Jethro was grateful. One child awake after bedtime certainly didn't cause as many repercussions as two or three or four children did.

When he finally felt some of the tenseness dissipate and Tim ease against him he sat down on the child's bed. Jethro adjusted Tim so that he had a sitting position in his lap. Tim rested his head against his father's chest, sniffing from the last of his tears, but calm. Jethro inhaled deeply. Why did little people even have to endure nightmares? Their worlds should stay sugar plum fairies and blasting sunshine.

Jethro slid a hand soothingly up and down one little leg and probed, "Are you ready to tell me what happened in your dream now?"

Tim's face puckered again at the memory and he slid his tiny hand into his daddy's free one. "That ghoulie wanted to snatch me, Daddy."

"He did?"

"Uh huh." Tim's little head nodded against his father's chest. "And then I ran." He reached down and scratched his ankle.

Gibbs sat silently for several seconds before he responded. "Son, you know that you had a nightmare and that the ghoulie wasn't real, right? Sometimes when we go to sleep our imaginations and brains create dreams where everything is wonderful, but at others we create scary dreams. But do you remember what Daddy has told you before about nightmares?"

Tim picked up Jethro's hand and covered his own tiny one with it. "They're not real 'cause they're all make believe."

"And?"

"And you are right there." Tim used his free hand to point in the direction of his father's room.

"Correct," Gibbs confirmed, softly kissing the silky hair. "What else can you tell me?"

Tim licked his lips. "You will always protect me."

"That is completely correct, also. I won't let anything bad happen to you-ever. I love you very much." Jethro smiled and repositioned Tim in his lap so that the child faced him.

Tim balled his hands into fists and rubbed his eyes then yawned. "Can I sleep with you tonight, Daddy?"

Jethro debated his answer. While all four kids had slipped into his bed countless times and snuggled with him, he tried to establish and maintain the understanding that they were always expected to sleep in their own beds.

But regarding Tim's still-fearful green eyes Jethro agreed. "Let's stop by the bathroom first though."

Tim slipped off of his dad's lap and pulled at Jethro's hand. "I won't wet your bed, Daddy. Let's go now, please."

Afterwards Tim fell asleep burrowed safely against Jethro's body. His dad found it difficult to return to sleep, however. His mind replayed Tim's terror and then segued to how his four kids individually and together reacted to fearful situations.

Even at four, Tim still found it difficult to physically leave Jethro to venture off alone.

For example, at the neighborhood park he and the children generally visited, Tony, Kate, and little Abby would race off the moment after Jethro reviewed the rules with them and permitted them to leave. In a split second Tony would have leapt onto the merry go round, Kate would have joined other playground visitors at the see saws, and Abby would have found the kiddie animal section and climbed onto the plastic rocking sheep.

Tim would stand leaning against his father's leg, surveying the area and watching his siblings as they gleefully chose their play equipment. One hand would clutch Jethro's thigh. After several minutes elapsed Tim would suddenly turn and verify, "You'll be right here when I get back, right Daddy?"

Jethro would confirm his assurance and finally Tim would set out to seek his own entertainment.

Still, it nagged at Jethro that the little boy's trepidation at being separated from his father had not diminished as he matured. A perfect example was Gibbs discovered that unless he stopped everything he was doing and focused entirely on Tim while he verbally reviewed where he was going and how long he would be, the child would nearly panic.

Gibbs attributed the behavior to Tim's innate timidity and tried not to worry about Tim outgrowing it.

Still- he did worry.

Tim craved routine and responded to it positively.

Over time Jethro had learned to fit in contact opportunities in which to touch base with his youngest son, even if for just a minute or two. It made an undeniable difference. Should he find himself having to stay longer at work, or coming home late because of traffic, Jethro would make a quick call home and speak directly to Tim. He would explain the delay and the newly adjusted and newly projected time home. Tim would listen thoughtfully throughout the account and during the conversation Gibbs could imagine his child's mental processing as his dad described his wait.

Anyway, whether Tim stayed with the sitter or with his pre-school teacher, they reported to Jethro that the calls always soothed his son.

So he made it a point to touch base personally with the four year old.

Jethro massaged the back of his neck and then rubbed fiercely at his temples. The beginnings of a headache had begun right behind his eyes.

He closed his eyes resignedly. His day would be a busy one and he certainly would rather approach it with a clear- and not throbbing- head.

At those times when he allowed his imagination to wander to the future he envisioned a teen aged Tim or a college graduate Tim, and his musings always showcased the child as focused, methodical, and meticulous about detail. Tim, he felt confidently, would always prove academically inclined and always ready to learn something new. Already Tim pestered his father to explain, or demonstrate, or describe anything out of the ordinary the child encountered. At four he would mimic his older sister and brother as they practiced their schoolwork, and spent hours taking apart and reassembling any small appliance or gadget his father found for him.

Jethro shifted in his seat and glanced towards the row of family photos on the mantel. Effectively parenting four small children demanded his physical, emotional, and mental best, and respecting and nurturing their differences- such as Tim's- throughout the years would impact them all for the rest of their lives.

So when fears of a ghoulie arose it was up to their daddy to assuage them.