Just a little something that popped into my head late last night. As ever un-betaed. Any words of wisdom are appreciated
Leroy Jethro Gibbs isn't a man who cares much for awards. His second in command is usually there to accept them for him. It's become something of an inside joke to the team and to outsiders just adds more mystery to his legend. Not that that is his intent. He wouldn't be able to give an honest answer about how many of the damn things he's won. Silver stars, purple hearts, and various and sundry commendations over his years at NCIS. None of them matter. The job matters, the result matters, the shiny piece of metal pinned onto your chest after the work is done; that's just politicking and as far as the former Marine is concerned that definitely does not matter.
Except for this one. The one medal he brought home. This one was won in the dessert when he had a home to come back to and two smiles to welcome him there. This one had been hard earned saving a little girl with a shot that no one, including his spotter had thought he could make.
He carefully picks up the medal, the edges of the ribbon are frayed from where Kelly would tug on it when, on the rare occasion, he wore his dress uniform. The pin is broken and the metal is tarnished by tiny hands that would hold it when he left. A promise to return, a reminder that he would look after them, that he would protect them.
The point was moot though, he hadn't protected them and they were gone. He set down the medal and picked up his glasses frowning as his vision cleared. Age had dimmed the edges of his vision and blurred the lines of once solid figures. He wouldn't be able to save that other little girl anymore either. Not with eyes like these.
Gibbs sighed, getting old was a bitch.