a/n: The song mentioned in this chapter is Hurt sung by Johnny Cash, voted best video ever. If you've never heard it, please look it up.

Chapter 3: Rule #1 - No water

Sunday
02:54 pm

It was raining cats and dogs. Very fitting to the current activity of loading several boxes with his last earthly possessions in his small sedan.

Jimmy shivered violently as he ran back into his building to get the last box in the foyer of his building. He had already emptied his small apartment, having used the Saturday to pack and sort out what he was keeping and what he was giving to the Salvation Army.

The volunteers of the charity shop arrived Saturday night and took everything that he wasn't taking with him in the move, leaving empty rooms filled with dust and just a couple of boxes with his most prized possessions.

He knelt on the floor and opened the box in front of himself, smiling a little as he found his childhood pictures with his mom and dad. His favorite picture with his dad was one where he was holding a huge salmon almost as big as the eight year old boy standing proudly beside it. They had stayed for almost a week fishing and camping, being bitten by ticks and God-knows what other types of mosquitos. The ticks, the rain and the wind were hell on earth.

But staying days alone with his dad was worthwhile.
It was the last time he camped with his dad before he died in a car crash a few months later.

Next were his pictures at the children's theater his mother insisted he participate. His chess club games. Even a picture of a science project he had done at school with chipmunks. Living chipmunks. His mother always looked so happy in her pictures, her smile so bright and her eyes so full of life and joy.

Jimmy sniffed a little and put the pictures back inside the box, sealing the cardboard edges with tape in order to protect it from the rain and from wind.

He grabbed the box with both hands and ran to the car, organizing the boxes in the trunk so the last box could fit in it. Once done, he slammed the door shut; effectively protecting his bags and boxes from the elements. He ran back to the door of his building, smiling tensely to his landlord who was just watching him load his car.

"All done, Mr. Smith." Jimmy said, offering the keys of his apartment to the older man.

Smith was not a handsome man. Years of drinking and smoking had giving him leather like skin marred by ill-treated pimples as well as a pot-bellied form closely related to a barrel. Still, despite his smoke damaged voice and his rheumy eyes, his mind was still sharp as a knife and his tongue cutting like a sword. He eyed Jimmy, noticing the pale skin and clothes barely hanging on his lanky frame.

"D' ya know where ya going, Jimmy Boy?"

"I've spoken to some clinics in the Midwest about a position. I have a job interview on Thursday but it will take me at least two days driving to reach Kansas."

"Kansas, uhm?" Smith rubbed his receding hairline, staring at Jimmy with his rheumy eyes and observing him shiver under the rain. The boy had withered before his eyes as he cared for his mama, may God have her. "Your mama would be proud of you, Jimmy Boy."

"Thanks, I guess." Jimmy rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them up. After an awkward moment, he offered one of them to be shaken, receiving a bruising handshake from Smith, who had always thought that a firm handshake is a mark of character.

No self respecting man should shake another's hand like a cold dead fish.

"I wish ya luck, Jimmy. May ya find what ya looking for."

"Thanks, Mr. Smith."

Grimacing at this aching hand, he distractedly smiled at Smith as he turned around and ran to his car, feeling the tingling on his hand due to the squeezing grip as he started the car, fixing the mirror so he could look at himself.

He paused as he saw his own reflection in it. Tired blue eyes behind glasses were staring at him, a world of hurt swimming in them. His skin was pale, paler than usual, and his cheekbones were more prominent than before, thanks to the abusive weight loss he had suffered during the last few weeks alone.

Eating had become a second thought as the very thought of food gave him heartburn. Between his diabetes and his juggling with the medical bills still left over from his mom's treatment, he had reduced his food intake to the merely necessary to survive.

Funny that no one around noticed anything wrong with him at all.

Sighing loudly, he drove his car away and distractedly waved at Mr. Smith, eager to get to the highway and start his journey to… well… his future.

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

At first he just drove under the rain, his mind churning with memories of the last few years at NCIS. He lightly smiled at the memory of Abby and her amazing boots, how tall she would look in then. He remembered his great and highly unlikely friendship with DiNozzo who despite his goofy attitude was a great person to talk to in times of trouble.

Pity that none of them were willing to hear when he needed to talk.

Shaking his head to disperse the dark thoughts, he considered his old mentor, Dr. Mallard. Now that's an amazing man. He was a veritable gentleman, a seeker of knowledge who did not shy away of the duty of partaking his knowledge. A man who treated the dead with the same kindness and integrity he reserved for the living.

A truly amazing person whose example he would gladly follow through all his days practicing medicine.

Then he considered McGee, the shy computer expert of the team Gibbs. He overtook a slower car as he nodded distractedly at the memory of the tall agent, who had changed so much through his tenure as an agent. Great friend and an all round great guy, pity that they've never had just the time to sit down and get to really know each other.

Then there was Ziva. Oh, Ziva David with her deadly paperclips. That was a woman that could scare the daylights out of a man, at the same time that she could warm up his body with just a sultry glance. He smiled at the memory of her constant teasing to McGee and Tony, making both men kneel before her power of seduction.

He slowed down as a huge Mack truck signaled that it was entering his lane, observing how the other cars discretely moved away from the metal beast, letting it take over the road.

His head started to hurt thanks to the constant thinking about what was and what could have been but would never happen again so he sighed, turned the radio on and looked for any station that might be playing anything other than funk, punk or country.

He sighed alleviated when he found a classic rock station which was playing a cover by Johnny Cash. The grave voice echoed through Jimmy's mind, filling the car with its resonance and translating perfectly his mood at this long drive to the West.

What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end

And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt.

Jimmy gulped as he stepped down the accelerator, seeing the road stretch for miles in front of him. The choice had been made. The path had been taken and the journey was just beginning.

Despite the pain permanently resident in his heart and the whispering doubt ping ponging in his mind whenever he took a minute to think about what he was doing, there was no going back now.

He was on his own.