Chapter 12
Thirty years ago...
"Sam, I don't..." Naomi stopped.
"You don't like it. I know."
"And you don't like it, either. I can tell by the look on your face. How long?"
"Training starts now. We'll ship out in about six months."
"And how long?"
"Don't know. I really don't know, Naomi," Sam said. "I don't even know what the mission is yet. And when I do, I can't tell you."
"I know," Naomi said. "I don't like it, Sam. Why do you have to do this? It's not what you signed on for. It's not what I signed on for."
She stood up and started walk out of the room, but Sam stood and grabbed her hand.
"Naomi, wait."
Naomi did stop, but she didn't turn around.
"This is putting me on the fast track. If I show that I can handle these types of missions, I'll be promoted to captain before you know it."
"I don't care what your rank is, Sam. I know you care about that, but I don't. I care that you're going to come home at night." She turned around. "I care that I don't have to face the possibility of receiving a folded flag and the gratitude of a thankful nation."
Then, she looked outside. Sam followed her gaze and he saw Tim lying on his back in the yard, staring up at the sky. It didn't look like he was doing anything at all, but knowing Tim, his mind was probably going a million miles an hour.
"I care that your son doesn't spend any time with his father. I care that he's not even sure what makes you his father. That's what I care about, Sam."
Then, she pulled her hand from his and left the room.
Sam sighed. In reality, he understood how she felt, and when it came to Tim, even Sam agreed that he didn't spend enough time with his son. It wasn't that he didn't want to. Tim was precocious and he was at that age when he was soaking up every little thing.
The problem was how much time these missions took up. Maybe this should be the last one. Surely, he'd proven his ability and his determination by what he'd done so far. That should be enough. But maybe it would never be enough. What was enough in a situation like this?
"After this one," he said to himself. "I'll take stock of what I want and what I need. One more mission."
But for now, maybe it would be best to spend some time with his son. It wouldn't be enough, but it would be something. He nodded and headed outside. Tim was still lying where Sam had seen him before. His gaze was fixed on the sky and he seemed absolutely enthralled by it. Sam looked up. He didn't see anything warranting that kind of expression on his son's face. It was just blue sky with fluffy clouds.
"Tim, what are you looking at?"
Tim didn't jump up as he sometimes did when Sam came home. He just gestured.
"Come over here, Daddy. Look!"
"What am I looking at?" Sam asked.
"Look!"
The little six-year-old hand grabbed at his pants and pulled. Smiling, Sam lay down on the ground beside his son and looked up at the sky.
"What am I looking at?" he asked again.
"The sky, silly!"
Sam laughed.
"Okay. Why?"
"I learned about clouds today in school," Tim said, his voice full of awe. "Did you know that clouds are water? Did you know that when we see clouds, we're really seeing water and dirt? They're so white and fluffy, but they're just water and dirt! And when they get full of water, do you know what happens?"
"It rains."
"Yeah! Isn't that cool? When they get full of water, they rain. They rain until they're not full anymore. When it's cold, instead of raining, it snows, and it snows until the water is gone because snow is just frozen water! That's weather! Water and dirt!"
"So what kind of clouds are we seeing right now, Tim?" Sam asked.
"These are cumulus clouds," Tim said, triumphantly. "They're the clouds that come with good weather. But if they get really big and really full, then, they're cumulo... cumulonimbus clouds. Those are storm clouds. That's a hard word to say, but I said it. Did I say it right? Cu-mu-lo-nim-bus," he said again, enunciating each syllable.
"Perfect," Sam said.
Abruptly, Tim sat up and looked at Sam. Sam sat up as well. He seemed very earnest.
"Cumulus clouds are nice weather clouds, but sometimes, they can turn into..." he paused on the syllables again. "...cu-mu-lo-nim-bus clouds. So can we go to the park and swing while it's nice?"
Sam laughed at the logic and nodded. Tim smiled happily and ran inside to tell Naomi, and Sam smiled after him. For a moment, he looked up at the clouds in the sky above and wondered at the fascination Tim had...and he wondered how long that fascination would last. They were just clouds.
Or not. To a child, every bit of information was new and amazing.
Even the fact that clouds were made out of dirt and water. He remembered a quote he'd read just the other day. At the time, he hadn't really thought about it in terms of his son, but now, it seemed exactly right.
"'People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child – our own two eyes. All is a miracle.' Thich Nhat Hanh. And what a world he sees," Sam said softly to himself as he looked up at the sky.
"Daddy! Come on!" Tim shouted. "I want to swing!"
"I'm coming, Tim!"
Sam ran inside the house.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Present...
Gibbs waited for the telltale sound of someone coming into his house. He knew they'd be here. They had to be able to talk like they couldn't at work, for fear of tipping someone off. Not knowing who might be listening in made it difficult to be sure about security.
He knew they'd be coming, but while he waited, he started smoothing some planks. Even when he had no project in mind, he enjoyed planing his wood. There was something relaxing and satisfying about it because, at the end, he might not have a project completed, but he had smooth pieces of wood ready to be added to a project, whatever that project would be. Sometimes, he had planed too much wood and ended up starting a project just to use it up. It always turned out nice, but it was something he tried to avoid. He worked on this stuff because he enjoyed it, not because he had to.
He heard his front door open and close. One set of footsteps across the floor. It was a very precise tread. Gibbs smiled to himself. There weren't too many people who walked in a way that could genuinely be described as precise. In fact, he really only knew one.
The basement door opened.
"Gibbs, why do you always contact me for the bad ones?"
Gibbs looked up. "Nice to see you, too, Captain Coleman. It's been a while. Congratulations on the promotion."
Faith Coleman was still in her uniform and she looked more than a little irritated. Of course, she always looked a little irritated when Gibbs asked her for help because, as she said, it was always with the bad ones, or at the very least, the complicated, morally gray ones.
"Thank you," she said tersely and walked down the stairs with that same precise step.
"You shouldn't be so good at your job."
"Lucky for you, I am."
"You find out anything?"
Faith walked over to a stool, wiped it off with a cloth and then sat down.
"Not much, which, in and of itself, tells me that you're getting into something you shouldn't get into. If this is genuine, then, the people in charge are playing very coy. I only found one person who would even admit that the case was coming up. How in the world do you know about it?"
"Vance...via SecNav."
Her eyes widened very slightly.
"It's higher than I thought. Why would SecNav be informed about a trial of a retired Naval commander who is currently a paraplegic? The fact that he's in a wheelchair should be enough to make this something that happens off radar. People don't like to see someone with disabilities sent to military prison, no matter what the situation is."
"Or executed?"
"That hasn't happened in a long time, Gibbs."
"Apparently, it's a possibility this time."
"Extradition is more likely."
"To where?"
"I don't know that."
"Could be worse."
"Yes, it could. If this goes to trial, it'll be public. There's no way for it not to be. Whoever is doing this must be pretty confident that they'll win and that they can spin it right."
"Could just be playing off current attitudes towards anyone involved in the military. They present it right, it would be a military man abusing his power finally getting taken down. People love seeing that."
"True enough," Faith said, nodding. "I'll be honest, Gibbs. I don't know if I'm ready to stick my neck out when I don't know the chances of losing my head. A general court martial, unknown players. This is a bad situation, and I don't know too many JAG lawyers who will want to take this on."
"Are you saying no?" Gibbs asked, actually feeling a little disappointed. He didn't have too many people in JAG he could call on, and to have Faith being reticent meant that most others would probably say no outright. Of course, Sam already had a lawyer, but military court wasn't the same as civilian court.
"No, I'm not saying no. I'm saying that I'm not yet ready to say yes. If he already has a lawyer, then, he at least has someone available to give him legal advice. He can refer to me if he needs any help with military court, but until I have a better view of the lay of the land, I'm going to proceed more cautiously."
"And what will you do to find that?"
"I'll poke around a little, but you can bet I'm going to be careful about who I ask questions. I'd advise you to do the same. What about your Agent McGee? This is his father, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"You'd better make sure he's on a short leash. These things can get ugly and he might get pulled into it if he's not careful."
Gibbs suppressed a grimace. Faith was more right than he could let her know. Right now, the fewer who knew Tim's intent, the better.
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Good. I'll be in touch. If there's anything else, let me know, but don't call me at work. Until the trial becomes public, there are a lot of things that can happen behind the scenes," Faith said. Her expression was grim. "I know you know this already, Gibbs, but there are things in our country's past that the powers that be don't want brought to light. Look at the world's reaction to spying. Everyone knows that the only reason for the other countries to be upset about it was that they can't admit that they're either doing the same thing or are trying to do the same thing. But that doesn't matter. They'll attack us for what they simply haven't been able to do themselves. We've done the same thing to China and cyberterrorism. Diplomacy isn't about what's right and what's wrong. It's about what you can get away with. If someone got away with something thirty years ago, they're going to want to keep getting away with it, no matter what that requires."
"I hear you."
"Good. Then, I'll leave you to your crawl space and go home," Faith said. "Next time, offer me a drink. I'm pretty sure I'll be needing it."
Then, she climbed the stairs and opened the door. She paused at the top.
"I get why you're involved in this, Gibbs. If it's personal, I get it. But you should make sure you know what you're getting into because it could be bad."
Gibbs just nodded. Faith walked out without another word. However, Gibbs had heard her, loud and clear. In fact, what he was hearing told him that Faith had found more than she'd shared. The warning was genuine, and her reluctance to get involved was probably genuine, too. Knowing how unflappable she generally was, it told Gibbs more than anything else had just how bad this all might become. There was still a lot up in the air right now. Maybe she had been given direct orders to warn him off. It was a possibility he couldn't ignore. However, he also trusted Faith as much as he could trust any lawyer and he believed that she wouldn't purposely lie to him, even if she didn't tell him everything.
Warning acknowledged, Gibbs knew that he wouldn't be able to back off until he was sure that Tim was all right. And Tim wouldn't be all right until his dad was. So Gibbs was involved all the way. There was no backing down unless Tim did. Tim wouldn't back down if his dad was still in danger.
He grimaced. This wasn't going to be good, but he was going to try to make the outcome as good as possible.
...and then, he could wring Tim's neck for putting them all through this.
He smiled a little to himself and went back to his wood.
