Saying Goodbye

By SherryGabs

Rated: PG

Summary: Gibbs returns to Stillwater for his dad's funeral. This story has been in the works for a few years.

Warnings: Very sad. Get the tissues handy!

Chapter 2

It had been difficult seeing his father and getting the funeral details finalized, but Gibbs was relieved they had taken care of these unpleasant tasks first thing. Now he had over a day to think. A day to ponder what to do with what his father left behind.

Having missed lunch, Ducky suggested they get something to eat. Gibbs wasn't in the mood, but wouldn't deny Ducky his dinner. He pointed to a diner down the block they could walk to.

Gibbs was familiar with the place and went straight to a booth he'd sat in many times before. The waitress came with a coffee pot and menus in hand.

"Leroy! Nice to have you back in town, but I wish it was under happier circumstances. I'm so sorry to hear about Jack."

"Thanks, Millie." Gibbs turned the coffee mug on the table upright so she'd know he wanted some. He figured he better get used to hearing the words "I'm sorry to hear about Jack" and being called "Leroy" because he knew he'd hear it often enough in the next few days.

She poured the coffee and babbled on. "He was just in here yesterday mornin' for breakfast. Seemed sprite as always. Who would've thought—" Millie stopped herself, thinking maybe it wasn't the right place or time.

Instead, she placed the menus down with an embarrassed frown and told them she'd be right back.

"I'm sure she meant well, Jethro."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and took a sip of the hot brew. He glanced around the diner, recognizing some of the faces from when he was young or from more recent visits. His eyes raked over the many odd signs and photos that hung on the walls. Decades worth of popular customers, friends and employees, an occasional celebrity, even the winner from an ugly pet contest. His gaze stopped at two photographs hanging above their booth. One was of a younger Jackson, as Gibbs remembered him from his boyhood. The other was of a woman from the same time, whom his eyes lingered on for a moment.

Ducky was looking the menu over, tsking at the fattening dinner choices. Gibbs looked at him. "No haggis today?"

Ducky hmphed. "I'd be happy just to see something not covered in gravy."

Millie came back at that point. "Special today is liver and onions. Have you decided?"

Ducky closed his menu in defeat and took his glasses off. "I'll have the liver and onions-hold the gravy, and a cup of tea."

Millie winked at him and turned to Gibbs. "What about you, hun?"

"I'm not really hungry. Just a slice of apple pie." Then a sentimental thought came to him as he took another quick glance at the photo above him. "Could you drizzle some chocolate over it?"

If she thought it strange, it didn't show. "Sure thing. I'll have that out for you gents quicker than you can shake a lamb's tail."

Ducky shook his head at her retreating form. "Lamb's tail?"

Gibbs hid a smirk behind another sip of his coffee.

Ducky cast an amused glance at Gibbs. "I've never heard of putting chocolate syrup over apple pie. Is that a local thing?"

Gibbs allowed himself a sad smile as he thought back. "No." He pointed around the interior of the diner. "My mom used to work here. Putting chocolate on apple pie was her special thing for me."

He pointed to the photograph of the woman above them. "That's her; the year before she died."

Ducky looked long at the attractive woman. Next to her he saw the photo of Jackson. Seeing them both together, he could see a mixture of them both in Jethro. He noticed her dark red hair, and thought of all of Jethro's wives having red hair, but thought it best not to point out.

"She was a beautiful woman, Jethro. And much too young to have left you so early."

"Yeah."

"You've never talked about her. How did she die?"

"She got sick-cancer." Gibbs remembered the months of watching his mom deteriorate, eventually being bed-ridden. "She only lived maybe six months after the diagnosis." He couldn't bear to add that his mother had taken her own life before the cancer could; overdosing on pills to avoid having to go through her end in agony.

"Oh, dear."

"It was a long time ago, Duck. I got over it."

Did you, my friend? Ducky didn't think so. He had to wonder if Gibbs' past obsession with redheads stemmed from his mother, not from Shannon as he'd always assumed. But now was not the time to analyze that particular can of worms. He filed that thought away for future reference.

"It had to have been difficult for both yourself and your father to adjust."

To put it mildly! Gibbs thought. "We had our moments."

Their food arrived. Gibbs thought it perfect timing, hoping Ducky wouldn't want to continue the current conversation. Things were bad enough now as it was, without bringing up negative history.

Knowing Gibbs for so long, Ducky could see that his old friend wouldn't have anything to follow his last comment. Placing his napkin on his lap he dug into his dinner, which he found unexpectedly tasty.

Gibbs took a bite of his pie, expecting it to be like what his mom used to give him. But, surprisingly, it was bland; nothing at all like he remembered.

Disappointed, Gibbs dropped his fork onto the plate and pushed it away, wishing they'd never come here.

"Is something wrong with your pie, Jethro?"

"No. Just not hungry."

Ducky, being the intuitive man he was, thought he knew why Jethro didn't want the dessert; but instead of just stating why, he chose the story route.

"When I was a lad, Mother used to make the most wonderful Hotch-Potch. It's a rich vegetable soup with beef, chicken, or whatever meat she had on hand. It became a birthday tradition for her to make it for me, along with oatcakes which I would put right into the soup to soak up the broth. I've tried to make it myself, but it never came out right." He gave Jethro a meaningful look. "I don't think it was the recipe I was getting wrong. It just didn't have Mother's special touch. The love she put into it."

Gibbs understood what Ducky was trying to say. Maybe it was just that it hadn't actually come from his mom. It didn't come with her smile, her fingers ruffling his hair; and an 'Eat up, sweetie'.

"Nothing was ever the same after she died," Gibbs voiced softly, knowing full well he'd fallen into Ducky's trap to talk; "at least not for me. Sometimes I thought Dad didn't care about her at all. He seemed to go right on with life. It made me so damned angry."

"Are you sure of that, Jethro? Or did he try to make things easier for you by making things seem normal?"

Gibbs sighed deeply and ran a hand over his tired eyes. He thought back to the conversation when his dad told him their marriage had not been good. Looking back all those years with an adult outlook he could see the truth in that.

"I don't know about that, Duck. They fought a lot. Dad would flirt with the ladies, not caring that Mom noticed. It wouldn't surprise me if he'd cheated on her. Mom let it happen, but had her own ways of getting back at him. While she was sick, he took care of her; out of love or obligation, I don't know. But I am sure the only reason they stayed together was because of me.

"Dad blamed Mom for dying and leaving him to raise me alone. I blamed him for being a cold, unfeeling bastard. The next several years were spent arguing, defying; doing everything except supporting each other."

"But since your return to Stillwater for the LeCombe case, you've both worked out a lot of your differences, haven't you?"

"Yeah. I guess we've both matured and mellowed quite a bit over the years. Let bygones be bygones and all that." Gibbs shook his head with a slight smile. "It still bugs me when he flirts."

"Jethro, being close to your father's age, I must admit something," Ducky wiped his mouth with the napkin and laid it on the table. "We older gents like to flirt because it makes us feel good. It reminds us of the young bucks we used to be." He smiled conspiratorially. "And you my dear friend are just as guilty. I've seen you work the ladies often enough."

Gibbs tried his best to look innocent, which Ducky rolled his eyes to.

Gibbs allowed a laugh thinking of something. "You know what sucks, Ducky? When I was in high school and dating; Dad had more dates than I did."

"And yet he never remarried. He chose to stay a single parent during those difficult years. Do you know why, Jethro?"

"I don't know. I know there were a handful of women who would have jumped at the chance. I guess he just didn't want to be tied down to just one. Not that a marriage certificate would have stopped him," Gibbs added humorously.

Ducky shook his head no. "That afternoon I spent with him painting toys, we talked quite a bit. He told me he never remarried, because none of the other women could measure up to his late wife. None were good enough to be a mother to you."

Gibbs shook his head, not quite convinced. "I'd have thought he would have been happy just to have someone else have to look after me."

"Jethro, don't sell your father short. You were a child, and had no idea what might have been going on in his head. You saw what was obvious from your point of view. But he told me he loved his Anne. He may not have been 'Husband-of-the-Year' material; as he put it. But he knew what a good mother she had been and that you adored her. Nobody could really take her place."

Gibbs let this information sink in. Aside from an occasional mention here and there, his dad and he hadn't ever really talked in depth about their feelings towards his mom death. It was a touchy subject they could only dance around. It was a bit of a shock, though, to learn all this. He was still learning from his old dad.

"And I probably never would have let anyone try to take her place," Gibbs admitted quietly.

For the second time that day, Gibbs was glad he had Ducky with him. Thankful his old friend had the insight to say exactly what he needed to hear.

ooooOOOoooo

Between the diner, the car, and Jackson's house, Gibbs and Ducky were stopped several times by people. Friends and neighbors of Jackson's, giving their condolences and a few telling stories of the old days; or what Jackson had done for them more recently. Gibbs tolerated it best he could, not wanting to offend anyone. He realized his dad's friends were going to miss him and he tried to remember this as the time wore on and the exhaustion in him grew.

Finally, making it to the house Gibbs had called home all those years ago, he let them in with his key. The two dropped their bags near the door and looked around the quiet space.

The living room was pretty much the same as when Gibbs had last seen it. An empty beer bottle sat on the coffee table, along with a book that had his dad's reading glasses lying on top of it. Gibbs stared at these a moment knowing exactly what his dad had been doing before going to bed the previous night. Same thing he did almost every night.

Gibbs looked over to the fireplace and saw his dad's fishing pole lying across the mantle, along with his tackle box. He slowly walked over to it and glided his fingers along the old pole. He couldn't even begin to count the number of fish that thing had caught over many years. Opening the tackle box, he could see his dad had been making new lures and flies to use.

"We were supposed to go fishing this weekend."

Ducky barely heard the soft voice. His heart constricted in pain for his friend. He watched Jethro close the box and start meandering around the room, adjusting knick-knacks and staring at framed old photos of their little family and of his grandparents. A more recent photo stood on the end table next to the sofa. He picked it up and sat down heavily on the worn piece of furniture.

It was a picture of his dad and himself. Standing proudly in front of the store they had both just repaired after it had been shot up by Paloma Reynosa and her goons. It had stayed closed for almost that entire summer while Jackson was being safely guarded at Gibbs' house. He had to hand it to the old man; he'd really stood up to the dangerous woman. Wasn't afraid to protect what was his. He'd wanted to stay in Stillwater, but Gibbs had insisted he needed round the clock protection under his roof in Alexandria.

They'd spent several days fixing the store up. Not once did Jackson bring up the fact that he knew his son had murdered Paloma's father. He was a man who hated violence, but knew his Leroy had been in a terrible state of mind at the time and thought he shouldn't be judged for his rash actions.

Gibbs felt Ducky sit on the sofa beside him to get a better look at the picture.

"That's a rather nice photograph of the two of you," Ducky said. "Is that Jackson's store?"

Gibbs nodded. "After we patched up all the bullet holes Miss Reynosa left in it." He put the picture back on the end table and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "He could have died that day and it would have been my fault."

"But he didn't die," Ducky pointed out sternly. "Thanks to you, he was prepared for her."

"Damn it, Ducky! He shouldn't have been put in that position to begin with!"

"Jethro! There is no point in bringing all that up now," Ducky knew he needed to stop Gibbs from falling into a state of depression, which he was prone to do. It was time to stop dwelling on the negative. "There is no point in getting yourself worked up over something that is over and done with. I think you need to stop thinking of every bad thing that's happened and begin to delve into more of the good memories."

"Not a whole lot there!" was Gibbs first knee-jerk reaction.

Ducky sighed in annoyance. "Looking at that photograph, I see two smiling men who seem to be enjoying each other's company."

Gibbs looked at the photo sadly, thinking they had enjoyed their time together those few days, along with the few times they had together since their reconciliation. A few years ago, he might not even have considered going to his father's funeral if he'd been informed about it; things were that bad. But now he realized how much he was going to miss his old man. What good was it doing him dwelling on the past? Not a damn thing. Wouldn't it be easier to remember the good times?

"Ok, Duck, I see your point," Gibbs gave him a wan smile. "I will try to be more positive."

Ducky patted Gibbs' knee. "That's all I can ask."

Gibbs leaned back, looking around the room again. It occurred to him that this was his now. The store would be his also.

"What the hell am I going to do with all this?"

"I take it you are the sole beneficiary?" Ducky asked.

"He showed me his will." Gibbs got up and went to the coat closet near the front door. Pulling out a fireproof safe box, he brought it back and sat it gently on the coffee table in front of them. "He had it changed a couple of years ago; had me made executor."

The box wasn't locked. He opened it and began rummaging through old documents, deeds, more old photos. He found the $50,000 life insurance policy; which he laid separate knowing it would have to be dealt with eventually.

The folded Last Will & Testament of Jackson Edward Gibbs lay upright against the side. Gibbs unfolded the document and handed it to Ducky.

"Dad left five thousand to his church and ten thousand to a Veterans' home. Everything else goes to me."

"Hmmm," Ducky skimmed through the will and handed it back. "When Mother passed she left me her house, but it was much too large for just me. It was a difficult choice after having it in our family for so long, but selling it was the best option, I believe. You could save the house and make your hometown a place to retire to."

Gibbs chuckled ironically. "Can you see me running a general store as a retirement choice?"

Ducky screwed up his face giving it a thought. "No. Not really."

Gibbs shook his head. "Nope." Stillwater stopped being his home a long time ago. He had no desire to return here to live.

He thought briefly about renting the house to someone, but decided he didn't want to be responsible for upkeep, or dealing with renters that might come and go. "Guess selling it all is probably the best thing."

"If you have no aspirations for the house or store, then yes, it probably is the best thing."

Gibbs nodded, and then yawned wearily. Looking at his watch it was barely 8:00, but it felt more like midnight. "Damn, I'm tired."

"It's been a long, stressful day for you, Jethro. And I must admit I'm a bit bushed myself."

Gibbs pointed to the stairway. "You can sleep in my old room. It's the one on the left. There's a dresser and closet for your clothes. The bathroom's across the hall from it."

Ducky went to retrieve his baggage. "And where will you sleep?"

Gibbs pointed downward to the sofa. "Right here." He slept on his own sofa at home so much; he knew he'd be fine.

Ducky knew better than to try to change his mind. There was no way Gibbs would allow the older man to sleep on the sofa, and they were both too exhausted to make up Jackson's bedroom for either of them.

Ducky stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "I think I'll get cleaned up and read for a bit before going to sleep. So, if you need me for anything, don't hesitate."

Gibbs lifted the corner of his mouth and nodded. "I'll be fine."

"Good night then, Jethro."

He watched Ducky go up the stairs and whispered, "Night, Duck."

Sighing heavily, Gibbs picked the beer bottle up from the table in front of him and took it to the kitchen wastebasket. Aside from a few dishes in the sink, everything looked fine, so he shut the light off on his way back to the living room, turning off the overhead light there. In the dark, he kicked his shoes off and then stripped down to his boxers and T-shirt, letting the clothes drop to the floor.

Sitting down, he turned the lamp on next to him and pulled his grandmother's afghan from the top of the sofa down over himself. He could hear Ducky moving around upstairs, getting ready for bed. Gibbs sighed again and picked up the book his father had been reading.

Sunset Pass by Zane Gray.

Gibbs chuckled. His dad loved westerns and WWII books and movies. This book had been read many times from the looks of it. Being a fan of westerns himself, Gibbs opened the book to the first chapter. Laying down and getting comfortable, he squinted at the words. Instead of getting up and digging out his own glasses, he grabbed his dad's glasses and put them on. Close enough.

He was exhausted, but his mind kept racing over things from the past and responsibilities that needed to be taken care of. Things he just didn't want to think about right now. Concentrating on the words, imagining the scenery, Gibbs let himself get lost in the story. He barely registered when there was no more movement upstairs and the house became totally silent except for his own breathing. It wasn't much longer until the words became blurry and his eyes finally couldn't stay open any longer. Eventually, the book fell off to the side and the glasses got pushed off and he finally slept a dreamless sleep.

ooooOOOoooo

Dawn was barely breaking when his eyes opened again. The birds were raising a ruckus in the front yard willow tree and he listened, enjoying the sound for a few minutes, until he thought of all he had to do that day.

He wasn't feeling the overwhelming grief at the moment that he had felt all the day before, but knew it was only a brief respite. He was sure it would come back repeatedly. This he knew from experience.

Gibbs picked the book up off the floor and found his dad's glasses under his shoulder, luckily still in one piece. He got up, put the afghan back in place and went to the kitchen to get a pot of coffee started. He decided to go up and shower before Ducky woke up, so he grabbed his dirty clothes and bags and headed upstairs. Since his friend was using his old room, Gibbs dropped his stuff in his dad's room. He broke out in chilled goose bumps when he looked at the bed where his father had died. The blankets were pulled back and he could see the impression left in the bed where his dad had laid.

After a few moments of staring and lamenting, Gibbs took a deep breath and pulled the blankets and sheets off the bed. He stuffed them into the hamper that held a bit of his dad's dirty laundry and knew he'd wash them all after his shower. He took his garment bag that held the suit he'd wear to the funeral and hung it on the closet door and left the rest of his stuff in his suitcase to take out as needed.

After his shower, Gibbs dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. While he was in his dad's bedroom, he figured he might as well pick out a suit for his father to be buried in. There were only two; his dad just wasn't one for wearing suits. He picked out the nicest one and laid it out on the bed to take to the funeral home later. He grabbed the hamper and started out the door, almost bumping into Ducky who had emerged from his room.

Gibbs had to smile at the rumpled doctor. His hair was sticking up at odd angles and he still had sleep in his eyes.

"Mornin', Duck."

"Oh! Jethro!" He backed away with a jolt and a chuckle. "You gave me a start." He pointed to the hamper. "What are you doing with that?"

"Just thought I'd wash his bedding and stuff." Gibbs shrugged. "Needs to get done."

Ducky nodded in understanding. "Yes, I suppose it does."

"I'll wait till after you shower. This old house, you can't run the washing machine and expect to have water anywhere else."

Ducky nodded in understanding and smiled. "I'll be quick."

"Take your time. No hurry. You want breakfast?"

The doctor gave him an amused look. "Can you cook?"

Gibbs tilted his head and thought. "I can handle toast and scrambled eggs. That's about it."

"Do you feel up to it? I can make it when I come down."

Gibbs smiled sadly. "I got to keep going, Ducky. Life doesn't stop."

The older man studied Gibbs face and believed him to be okay for now. "Toast and scrambled eggs are fine. I'll be down in twenty minutes."

Gibbs nodded and headed down the stairs as Ducky went into the bathroom.

Even if the eggs were a bit overcooked, the two men finished them off and cleaned up the mess. Gibbs got the washing machine started with the bedding and grabbed a set of keys hanging by the back door.

"Why don't we go over to the store and see what we can do there," Gibbs suggested.

Ducky grabbed his coat and hat. "That sounds as good a place as any to start." He saw Gibbs opening the back door. "Isn't the car in the front?"

Gibbs smiled and pointed out the door. "The store is just across the backyard. Well, the back door to the store is." He jingled the keys.

"Ahhh," Ducky smiled and followed him out the back door.

He'd never been in Jackson's store before and Ducky looked around in wonder. "What a quaint little place. How could he have possibly competed with the larger chain stores?"

"This is the only store that sells general merchandise in a twenty mile radius," Gibbs told him. "People will drive that every week or two to do large shopping trips, but this is where they come for the quick stuff, or if they don't want to drive that far. A lot of people around here believe in supporting local business instead of the big chains. Dad was never rich, but he did okay."

Gibbs took a long look around the little store. He'd spent his childhood here. When his mom was working, he'd come here after school and do his homework at the table near the front. He'd earn extra money working there weekends and in his spare time. L.J. would tell him stories about his time in the Marines and all the battles he'd fought in. Of course, Gibbs knew now how sugar-coated those stories were. He'd really missed L.J. when the man suddenly left town after his mom had died.

With a jolt, Gibbs realized he hadn't called L.J. about his former best friend's death. He'd do that today. If L.J. wanted to come to the funeral, he'd have his agents pick him up and drive here with them. McGee knew the address of the retirement home.

That crisis solved, Gibbs once again looked around and shook his head in amazement.

"You know… even after rebuilding half the place after Paloma shot it up, it still looks pretty much the same as it did forty years ago."

"Your father was a man who was set in his ways, was he not?" Ducky asked.

"Oh yeah," Gibbs agreed.

"Well, there you go." Ducky smiled.

Gibbs smirked and scratched his head, thinking. "Okay, time to get busy. I'm thinking all the perishable foodstuff can go to a food bank or churches." Gibbs frowned. "As for everything else, I have no clue."

"Well," Ducky offered his two cents. "If you sell the store to a realtor, you can leave things for him to deal with. Sell the building and contents as is. The same with the house; just leave the furnishings you don't want to keep or donate. Of course, you probably wouldn't get as much money from selling to a realtor over a private sale."

"Ahh, I don't care much about that," Gibbs told him. "I just want it done with. I'll call a couple of realtors today."

He looked at his watch. "It's a bit too early to make any calls yet. I'll call Ms. Hannigan about who would take the food. She'd know."

Ducky took his coat and hat off and started to roll his shirt sleeves up. "In the meantime, why don't we box up the perishables so it's all together."

"Good idea," Gibbs agreed. "But let me do the heavy lifting."

It really didn't take long to do that chore. They then got busy with other parts of the store. Gibbs took down photos, the old Winchester rifle, and whatever other personal items that he didn't want to leave behind.

The bell over the door jingled, signaling someone entering. Gibbs looked up to see a face he hadn't seen in quite a while, but had planned on calling.

"Ms. Hannigan. How are you?"

Her eyes were red from crying and she held a hankie tightly in one hand. "Leroy? Is that you?" She smiled and held out her arms, hugging Gibbs tightly. He stood ramrod straight with a panicked look on his face.

"Oh, how handsome you are! Just like your father."

Gibbs managed to escape her grasp and held the elderly woman at arm's length. "I was going to call you."

"You must be devastated, Leroy. I know I am." Ms. Hannigan started crying again. "Jackson was one of my very oldest and dearest friends. Oh, I don't know what to do!"

"Umm," Gibbs looked over to Ducky with a plea for help on his face. "I know Dad considered you one of his dearest friends too. I know he very much appreciated the meals and candies you made for him." Gibbs remembered the tin of candy his dad had brought with him the Christmas he visited at Gibbs' house and how he had called it a "care package".

"Oh, it was the least I could do to make sure he ate a good meal on occasion."

Gibbs just nodded, knowing his dad was perfectly capable of cooking his own healthy meals. He, however, enjoyed the attention.

Ducky came over then. "Hello, madam, I'm Donald Mallard, a good friend of Jethro's."

She looked at Ducky and suddenly became quite flustered, putting her hand to her hair to make sure it was laying right.

"Well, hello." She held out her hand daintily. "Florence Hannigan. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Ducky shook her hand gently. "The pleasure is all mine. May I call you Florence?"

"Of course!" She gleamed. "If I may call you Donald."

"Donald, or Ducky as my close friends call me, would be fine."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and had to stifle a grin. The old doc could sure pour it on when he wanted to.

Now that she seemed to be in better spirits, Gibbs interrupted the budding romance. "Ms. Hannigan, I'd like to donate some of this food to a food bank, or churches. Do you of any that need it?"

"Uhh, umm," she tore her gaze away from Ducky. "Food? Churches?" She shook her head to clear it. "Of course, I know of a few associations that would be delighted to take it off your hands. With the economy the way it is, there are so many families in need of assistance. I'll just go make a few phone calls and I'm sure it will be cleared out of here in no time." She looked at Ducky and hated to be drawn away from him. "Will you be in town very long, Donald?"

"At least until after the funeral, Florence," Ducky smiled warmly.

She looked saddened again, if just for a brief second. "Yes, the funeral. Oh, how I will miss Jackson. But we must remember he is in a much better place now. I hope we run into each other again, Donald."

"I'm sure we will." He took her hand and squeezed it.

She almost giggled. "I'll go make those calls now."

Ms. Hannigan backed to the door and waved her hankie at Ducky before bumping into the door and finally opening it to leave.

Ducky's face showed satisfaction. "I still got it, even at my age."

"I think you charmed the bloomers right off of her," Gibbs chuckled. "Thanks Duck. I owe you."

"It was obvious some assistance was needed."

"Yeah, she's a bit flaky, but her heart's in the right place."

The two men spent a couple more hours deciding what to donate and what to leave. Two groups had come to divide the food between them and take it away. Gibbs and Ducky locked up and went back to the house for lunch. Gibbs called L.J. and gave him the news. He broke down in silent tears again when he heard L.J. do the same. Yes, he wanted to come to the funeral and would expect a call from McGee on when to expect him.

Ducky gave Gibbs his privacy during this time, knowing they could talk later.

TBC