Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
Authors Note: Okay folks, looks like there's one more chapter to this story. As in the first chapter, I'm going to stray from canon. There's going to be no rolling over and screaming after the shot here. A point of order was brought up by honeydust9251 in her review. Something about Kelly being 7 or 8. Well, I don't know about Kelly's DOB, but her date of death is in no dispute. It was February 28, 1991. There was no February 29th in '91 (canon date of death). So without further ado, on with the story. Hope you enjoy it.
Spoilers: Really? Do I have to say anything here? No? I didn't think so.
The rancho, June 7, 1991 0900hrs
For the past three days, Leroy Jethro Gibbs observed the rancho from three different hides. He'd made up range cards for each one. Now he was lying in the hide that overlooked the track from the rancho to the road that led to Buena Vista. Gibbs meant to be gone by now. The reason he wasn't was he found out something disturbing on his first day of observing. Pedro Hernandez was married with two kids, a boy and a girl. While this information didn't change the ultimate goal of killing Hernandez, it did limit Jethro's opportunities. He would not kill the man in front of his family. This was why he was in the current hide. Apparently in the mornings Hernandez drove to Buena Vista in an old pickup. He went without escort or a bodyguard. So this morning if he came down the track he would die.
Technically it would be an easy shot. Gibbs' mark was three hundred yards from the hide. The pickup would be coming head on, a no deflection shot. However Gibbs would have to be ready for a second shot. The rake of the windshield could deflect the bullet. Jethro would have to quickly reacquire his target after the first shot. If the first shot was successful, Gibbs' gear was ready for a quick getaway. He'd case the rifle; don his ruck and unass the area. Gibbs figured he had at least twenty minutes before any pursuit could be mounted. Hernandez's guard force numbered only a half a dozen. They had several quad ATV's and an SUV. Gibbs would leave his hide, go all out and then go to ground. The desert was not unfamiliar to Jethro. If he could dodge the Republican Guard, a bunch of drug cartel muscle shouldn't be a problem. It was a still warm day; the temperature was already past eighty. In the distance Gibbs saw the pickup leave the ranch yard.
Jethro settled in behind his rifle. He started measured breathing to calm himself. As the pickup got closer, he'd start timing his heartbeats. Gibbs dialed up the magnification on the Redfield scope. Only one person in the truck and it was Hernandez. He dialed the scope back down and closed his eyes for a second. Memories of Shannon and Kelly clicked rapidly thru his mind slide show fashion. Tears leaked from his closed eyes.
Goddamnit Gibbs, get a grip.
Jethro wiped his eyes and resettled himself behind the Remington 700. He eased off the safety and welded his cheek to the wooden stock. His heartbeat was loud but steady in his ears. The pickup was getting closer, Hernandez's head growing larger in the scope.
Not Hernandez, just a target, just a target, just a target ,just a target…
The word 'target' started to correspond to Gibbs' heartbeat. He was slipping into his 'zone'. The shot would come between heartbeats, when he was the steadiest. Jethro's finger tightened. The Remington bucked. Gibbs automatically worked the bolt and reacquired the pickup in the scope. There would be no need for a follow up shot. The pickup was swerving off the track and the view in the scope was of a very dead Pedro Hernandez.
Gibbs rolled over, pulling the rifle to him and sitting up. He quickly cased the Remington, shrugged into his ruck and picked up his shotgun.
Time to get outta Dodge.
The desert, north and east of the rancho 1700hrs
Getting away from the rancho was just as easy as Gibbs thought it would be. It was forty five minutes before he heard the first ATV. The going had been pretty good, low scrub and hard pack sand. Gibbs found a small fold in the ground and concealed himself. Several ATV's crisscrossed the area. The closest they got was about a quarter of a mile. Jethro gave it an hour and a half before he moved. Since he used an extra day at the rancho Jethro was behind his timetable. He would take a calculated risk and move during daylight. After it got dark he'd keep moving. He should reach Morrel's ranch at about 0430 on the 8th.
Currently Gibbs was on hard pack making his way toward some high ground to his front. His next break would come on the other side of the high ground. He'd been taking ten minute breaks every hour. From the other side of the high ground came the sound of several ATV's.
Shit!
Jethro stopped and looked around. He was walking on a pool table. No folds, no gullies, nothing. Gibbs chuckled darkly.
No sense running, you'll just die tired.
Jethro pulled out a canteen and took two deep swallows. He pulled a rag from the pocket of his pants and rubbed the dust off the 870. After replacing the rag Gibbs clicked off the safety of the shotgun.
Ready as I'll ever be.
He started walking towards the high ground. The sound of the ATV's got louder. Three crested the high ground and came down onto the hard pack. Gibbs stopped and waited, his feet shoulder width apart, the shotgun held diagonal across the front of his body. The three ATV's stopped forming a vee in front of Gibbs. They were five or six yards away. The leftmost rider unclipped an AK-47 from the handlebars of his quad. Gibbs grinned tightly.
"Howdy"
The rider at the point of the vee looked a little surprised. He also had an AK clipped to his quad, but made no move to unclip it. There was a pistol in a belt holster around his waist.
"Boss, what are you doing out here?"
"Taking a walk."
"In the middle of the desert?"
"I was told it's very healthful to walk."
The rider to Gibbs' right said something to the leader in Spanish that sounded to Gibbs like 'quit fucking around and let's just kill him'. The leader said something over his shoulder and turned back to Gibbs.
"Boss, it's very dangerous out here."
"Really?"
"Si', there's people who would kill you for your boots, let alone all the stuff you're carrying."
"Well, maybe I should get going then."
"I don't think so."
With that, the bandit leader dropped his hand to his pistol. The one holding the AK started to point it at Gibbs.
The round under the hammer of the 870 was a rifled slug round. One ounce of lead. Jethro snapped the shotgun to the horizontal, triggering it at the AK gunner. The slug caught the bandit high in the chest, blowing him off his ATV.
Gibbs took a step to the left, racking the shotgun's slide. This put the bandit leader between Gibbs and the man on the right. The bandit leader clawed his pistol from its holster, bringing it up. A charge of double O buckshot hit him in the chest knocking him sideways and off his ATV. Gibbs racked the slide again. The third thug, deciding that discretion was the better part of valor was trying to start his ATV when the shotgun spoke for the third and final time.
"FUCK"
Gibbs didn't bother to check the guy on the left. The bandit leader was breathing his last, as was the guy on the right. Gibbs topped off the shotgun and picked up the three hulls from the ground. He briefly considered taking the weapons and valuables of the bandits but rejected the idea.
Even federales could figure out that only one person did this.
Gibbs settled for making the weapons and ATV's inoperable. Then he got the hell out of there.
Sam Morrel's ranch, June 8, 1991 0210hrs
Gibbs was bushed. Since his confrontation with the bandits, he'd double timed it. When he reached the ranch, Jethro circled it, looking for signs of a reception committee. Luckily there were none. Now he was kneeling looking at the porch. There was a faint red glow in the area of Morrel's rocker. Gibbs spoke.
"Hello the house!"
The red glow disappeared and there was the sound of a weapon being cocked.
"Who's out there?"
"Gibbs."
"Come ahead then."
Jethro stood and walked in, keeping the muzzle of his 870 pointed down. As he got closer to the porch, Gibbs saw Sam Morrel standing next to one of the posts holding up the porch roof. There was a long gun barrel pointing in Gibbs' direction.
"It's me Sam."
"I kin see that now Jethro. You're late."
Gibbs squinted. Morrel was carefully letting down the hammer on a Winchester Model 1897 pump shotgun.
"Sorry Dad. Didn't know there was a curfew."
"Smartass. I thought I was gonna be stuck with that pile-a-shit truck of yours."
Gibbs laughed.
"Well, you're off the hook. Got any coffee?"
"Not right now, but it'll be ready PDQ. C'mon in."
While the coffee was brewing Gibbs asked if he could clean his weapons. Wordlessly Morrel cleared the kitchen table and spread out newspaper.
"Have at it."
First Gibbs field stripped and cleaned the 870. Then he reloaded it. Next he did the same with the rifle, except he didn't reload it. Jethro cased the rifle leaning it on his ruck. Morrel watched without comment while Gibbs cleaned. After pouring them both coffees, he spoke.
"Run into some trouble?"
Gibbs debated a couple of seconds.
"On the way back."
"Well, there's no holes in ya, so it ended well I reckon."
Gibbs smiled.
"Thanks."
After a few minutes of coffee sipping and silence, Gibbs spoke.
"Can I take a shower and change clothes?"
"Sure Gibbs. There's even some hot water left."
After a shower and clean clothes, Jethro felt like a new man.
"Sam, thanks for your hospitality, I'm gonna take off."
"Shit Gibbs, Whyn't ya get a couple hours of sleep."
"Got things to do Sam."
The two men moved Gibbs' gear to the barn and Jethro loaded his truck. Morrel opened the big doors to the barn and walked back to the truck. Gibbs stuck out his hand.
"Thanks again Sam."
"De nada. One of these days you come back an' let me hear the story."
Gibbs gave him a thin smile.
"I don't think so. Sorry."
"Well, just come back. Don't get too many visitors out here."
"We'll see. So long Sam."
With that Gibbs got in the pickup, fired it up and drove out. Soon the tail lights disappeared up the track. Morrel shook his head and walked back to his house.
Gibbs' house, base housing, Camp Pendleton MCB, June 14, 1991 1710hrs
Leroy Jethro Gibbs was sitting in his living room reading "Pegasus Bridge: June 6, 1944". His front doorbell rang. After marking his place he walked to the door and opened it. In front of him was a female Marine Second Lieutenant. Behind her were two very large enlisted Marines wearing MP brassards.
"Can I help you Lieutenant?"
"Are you Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs?"
"Yes ma'am."
"I'm Lieutenant Lara Macy. Would you come with us to the Provost Marshal's Office?"
"Sure Lieutenant. What's this about?"
"Murder."
A/N: As I said earlier, one more chapter. I'm a little surprised about the lack of interest in this story. But hey, a nice review will make me feel better.