Sorry for not updating yesterday, was pretty busy. I hope this chapter answers a few questions...


Chapter 9

Darius hung up the phone, chuckling to himself. He and Ben hadn't talked for a while, but it wasn't an awkward absence. They had their own lives to attend to, and that was understood. His wife sat beside the old man on the couch, smiling at him.

"Call Ben?"

"Yes, love. Left a message. He'll get back." The black man replied to his Scottish wife. Truth be told, returning to Holy Loch once he'd met Rebecca back in 1978 had been a difficult decision. Darius had come from a less than solid family, but when he was honorably discharged from the Navy, the globe still reeked of racial tension. Aside from certain bigots whose opinions could not be changed in Holy Loch, the ex-SEAL won the rest over with his work ethic, his charm, and the edited tales of unpublished special operations combat.

Thankfully, Rebecca's red headed family saw Darius for who he was, not what he looked like. They saw an honorable soldier, and a loving potential husband for their daughter and sister. Over the years, Darius gained a reputation working for Rebecca's father, Sam, on his fishing boat. It was a simple life; a drastic change from the days of black op missions and high value targets that he shared with Ben.

The old man leaned over, kissing his wife on the cheek.

"He'll get back to me. He always does."

The couple prepared for their early afternoon walk along the seaside.


McGee had explained that he didn't feel up to driving, and Ziva didn't push the issue, so they left together in Ziva's car. The drive back from the beach was silent, but Ziva could tell McGee's mind was ablaze with thoughts. His eyes were glued to the rear view mirror as the sea sank from view behind them. When it finally disappeared, he sighed and settled into his seat. It was just after 8:00 am on their day off. While it was not the way Ziva had intended on spending the day, it would have to do. With McGee's repeated appreciation for her 'care', she began to realize the value they all played in each other's lives.

They were often at odds. They complained about each other to friends or significant others. They vented on the phone to family, or into a typewriter. For some, they would drink until they forgot about the others. Some slept around. Some drowned out their thoughts with deafening, pulsing music. At times, even pets were subject to listening to their owner's frustration about the MCRT and the others at NCIS.

But, a single, undeniable truth remained. They loved each other more than they were willing to admit. Unfortunately, the resistance to admitting that, was what kept them all too far apart.

"Ziva, this isn't my apartment."

McGee spoke concisely, confused as they turned into a quaint strip-mall parking lot.

"No, it is not."

"Then what is it? Where are we going?"

Ziva turned to him after she pulled into a parking spot. She smiled.

"Breakfast."

"Breakfast?"

"Yes."

"But, I'm not hungry."

"I am."

"Coudn't-"

"I want to eat now."

McGee admitted defeat and watched as Ziva stepped out of the car. McGee opened his door, but didn't get out.

"Ziva! I still need to put my clothes on!"

She turned and waited.

"That's why a parked around the side of the building. Less people will see you. Now put your clothes on, and let's eat."

McGee sighed, then obeyed his partner. After shaking the sand from his clothes and donning them (with many looks around to see if anyone was watching) he walked towards the breakfast cafe, Ziva having gone in to find a table. McGee felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

2 Voicemails.

He dialed the code and listened to the first one.

"Hi… Son, it's me. I… we need to talk..."

"…can you call me back as soon as you can. Not an emergency, but it's urgent." *click*

Tim took a deep breath. He must have called when he was on the beach. While I was on the beach...

Then the second message.

McGee, it's Gibbs. Call me back. We don't have a case. *click*

The agent frowned at the phone as he wound his way through the booths of perfectly happy, normal patrons. Normal. Normal. Normal. What I'm not. What I'll never be.

He took a seat with a thump and looked across the table at Ziva. She smiled. He wished that he could honestly do the same.


One Hour Later

Gibbs pulled into the parking lot of McGee's apartment complex, but he didn't see McGee's car. Leaning forward, the team leader looked up towards his agent's window, then settled back against the seat. Sipping his coffee slowly, he mentally planned out how he would construct his next carpentry project while waiting for McGee to return. He knew he would.

Gibbs didn't have to wait long, but what he saw wasn't what he'd expected. Ziva's car pulled up and parked, and the two exited, but McGee just stood there, rocking slightly. Is McGee drunk? At this time of day?

Both agents were unaware of Gibbs' presence. Ziva walked around the car and placed her arm around McGee's shoulder and led him up the stairs.

The grey haired man watched after them, scratching his stubble. Ziva's gesture was obviously not one of romance. That left it to comfort. What does McGee need comfort about? And from Ziva, of all people? Gibbs concluded that Rule 12 wouldn't need to be addressed. Yet. The older man thought of his past. Often, in their line of work, comfort leads to more. The sharing of burdens; the yoke, so to speak, could at times transform into romantic feelings. Then people you love die.

Gibbs got out of his car and jogged up to McGee's apartment door. He was about to knock when he heard Ziva's voice. Leaning in, he frowned. Her tone was laced with worry, concern, and… panic? No, not Ziva.

"McGee! Please tell me what is going on? What happened on the beach?"

Silence.

"Something obviously happened. Normal people don't typically start crying in a restaurant."

Obviously a wrong choice of words. A very wrong choice. Gibbs could almost hear her bite her tongue.

"No, I didn't mean that McGee. I-"

"I'm not normal, okay Ziva! I'm not. What happened… nothing happened on the beach! Nothing! Do you understand!"

"But, the seal."

"There was no seal! Nothing! Nothing happened! I'm normal! See Ziva? I'm smiling! Just like a normal person! There it is! You happy now? I'm smiling. I'm god damn normal! I'm... I'm smiling."

Gibbs noted that the last word was the introduction to tears. Knocking right now would be disastrous, yet Gibbs felt guilty about eavesdropping But still. Seal? Beach? What the hell is going on here? He stayed where he was, sipping his coffee and listening.

"Tim, I am here for you."

Tim? Gibbs' eyebrows raised. Then people you love die.

"But I'm not normal to you Ziva. I'm not. I'll never be. Nothing happened on the beach. My father… needs to finish his story. Finish the story."

The young agent's voice wavered as it trailed off. Then a sniffle. Then…

"No, Ziva. Don't touch me!" McGee barked.

"I'm not normal. Just, leave. Please. Thanks. Thank you for trying. Thank you for caring. But… I need to be alone."

"Tim!"

"No. I just… this isn't something you can figure out. You can't fix abnormality."

"Not if you don't let me try."

"Don't try, Ziva. Never try."

Silence.

Gibbs retreated from the hallway and made his way out into the parking lot. He didn't want to be caught with his ear to the door. And just as he expected, he watch Ziva step out of the apartment and descend the steps. She was wiping her cheeks.

"Hey Ziver." The woman gasped, hastily covering her emotions with a mask. Gibbs sighed.

"Gibbs."

"Everything ok?"

She turned back to the apartment, glancing at McGee's window.

"Everything is fine."

"I doubt that."

"Then ask him yourself." she almost spat the words out. Gibbs allowed her to go, then turned and briskly walked up the stairs to McGee's apartment. He was about to knock again when he heard Tim's voice.

"Hello, Dad. I need to know the rest of the story."

Dammit! I'm never gonna get in there!

Gibbs figured that the conversation would be one sided, with the younger McGee speaking few words, so the older agent returned to his car and waited.


"You left off with the woman at the pier."

"Oh… yes." Admiral McGee took a deep breath, and continued.


Ben followed the woman south along A815 until they reached Pier Esplanade. It was dark and completely vacant of people. The two climbed over the fence and walked down to the water's edge. Once there, the woman stopped and turned to Ben.

"Let me see your eyes."

Ben looked at her in confusion, swaying a little from the booze. I guess that's not the worst pickup line I've heard. Figured it would be the other way around though. He really wanted another Davidoff.

"Okay."

The woman placed both hands on the sides of his head, the grey blanket falling about her in the heap. Ben struggled to look down and his heart jumped. She was completely naked. And, she was beautiful.

She stared into his eyes for a time, then nodded, a faint smile tracing her lips.

"It is true."

"W-what is true?"

"What you are."

"What I am?"

Ben pulled her hands away from his face and took a step back.

"Okay, you gotta tell me what's going on here. What are we doing? I know I'm a little drunk, but this is all… a little strange."

She cocked her head slightly, and he continued.

"The blanket. Why aren't you wearing clothes? What normal human being walks around a cold evening in just blanket? And 'what I am'? I mean, do you pick up navymen like this all the time?"

She didn't respond as he thought she would. Instead, she placed her hand on his chest, looking longingly up into his eyes.

"Seal."

The word thumped into his heart, but he regained his logic. How did she know?

He sighed. Figured he might as well admit it if she knew already.

"Yeah, I'm a SEAL."

Her smile grew.

"Lay with me."

"Why?"

Ben couldn't believe his ears. Here was a beautiful, and naked woman standing in front of him, ready to 'lay' with him. What the hell was he thinking? Go for it McGee! No, don't. Something's off.

"Because of what you are."

"A SEAL? You like the SpecOps type?"

She looked at him in confusion.

"No. Because you are half selkie."

Ben took two large steps backwards.

"What?"

She closed the gap between them, grasping his hands, which he shook off.

"It must be. You and I. It must be."

"Why must it be? What the hell is going on? Selkie? I'm no selkie, or whatever the hell that is."

"You are half. And I am whole."

"No. I'm not. And… WHAT?"

"Don't you find it odd that you can hold your breath for so long? That you feel at home in the water? That you cannot go a long amount of time without hearing the waves? That you long for something that you cannot explain? You are half selkie, Benjamin McGee."

Ben's jaw dropped, and for two reasons. First, that she had spoken so many words. He had almost concluded the woman… yes, she had to be a woman, was a mute with how little she spoke. And second, that she knew exactly what he felt, and who he was. How does she know that? He had always wondered why he could hold his breath so long. Doctors said it was something about his red blood cells.

"Lay with me."

And as if his actions were dictated by some otherworldly force, McGee almost couldn't control himself. With shaking hands, he began unbuttoning his peacoat. The… selkie smiled, helping him with his clothes.

Then, Benjamin McGee woke up on the beach alone.


"Tim? Are you there son?" the old Admiral asked. He had taken his time telling the story, understanding that his son wouldn't take the news lightly. But it needed to be told. Tim needed to know. Ben heard his son's voice. It was weak and cracked as he cried.

"That… w-w-was my… my mother?"

"Yes."

"My m-mother… is a… s-selkie?" Tim whispered the last word.

"Yes."

"No."

"What, Son?"


Gibbs had had enough of waiting. He got out of his car (again) and headed up the steps to McGee's.


"No. No! No no no no no! That can't be. That's not true!"

"It is, true, Tim."

"No, I can't… just... just leave me alone!"

"Son!"

"Don't talk to me! Just… don't talk to me! I don't want to know! I don't want to talk to you."

"But, Son, please!" Admiral McGee began crying, something the old man wasn't used to. His only son was shutting him out, and it broke his heart. Even more than his longing for the sea.

"G-goodbye."

Tim hung up on his father, then promptly turned his phone off. He sobbed into his hands, his elbows on his knees as he sat rigidly on his living room couch.

"It can't be possible. There's no way in hell. It's not possible."

"What's not possible, McGee?"

"Boss?"