I DO NOT OWN NCIS OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS.

A/N I want to thank all those who have kindly reviewed. It makes my day! Hope you continue to enjoy this story. As always any advice is appreciated!

Chapter 20

Jethro used his pickup to escape Stillwater from time to time. Usually he would drive into the state park nearby to spend time alone. He started with an occasional overnight and eventually extended them into weekends.

While camping there he tried to survive as much as possible only on what he could catch to eat and what materials he found to set up camp. There were some things he'd bring from home, like a knife; but he liked to challenge himself.

Most of his meals consisted of fish, though he would snare a rabbit once in a while. He had gotten fairly adept at moving through the woods without disturbing too much of the wildlife. He believed if he had a rifle he could easily take down a deer.

Jack wondered what his son was up to on these outings. He worried about the overnights and voiced his disapproval when they became two nights. Leroy though seemed calmer afterwards and none the worse for wear. His son swore he was staying in approved camping areas and the rangers were aware of his locations. Jack had talked to the rangers to ease his mind and they assured him that there was no trouble. He was even proud when they praised Leroy for his abilities to 'rough it'.

If it hadn't been for the fact that the rangers were as aware of Leroy as they were, Jack would've felt forced to put an end to the outings, rare as they were. Since he was apparently safe and they were improving his demeanor, Jack was happy to let them continue.

One Friday afternoon in mid October, Jethro was contemplating the idea of hunting for a deer. The only rifle he knew about was his father's and he wasn't sure what the odds would be of 'borrowing' it for the weekend. He certainly knew Jack would NEVER hand it over willingly, but wasn't sure if swiping it would be worth the consequences, whatever they might be today.

Deciding he just had to try and this time of year was the perfect opportunity to attempt the hunt with the deer being plentiful, he waited for his dad to head to the store room. He managed to grab the rifle and escape to his truck.

Early the next morning, he had secured the best place to wait for his target. He was lining up to take his shot when the sound of leaves rustling and twigs snapping startled the deer and caused him to turn abruptly. Finding his father standing there fuming Jethro's head dropped to his chest and he softly cursed to himself.

Allowing the disappointment of missing his kill to fill him, Jethro suddenly turned on his dad, "What are you doing here? I almost had it."

"I'm here because you have something that belongs to me," Jack seethed. "Come down out of that tree and hand it over. NOW!" he demanded.

Making his way down, Jethro ranted "You're lucky I didn't shoot you."

As soon as he was close enough, Jack grabbed the rifle checking it out. "I didn't hurt it any," Jethro rolled his eyes.

Looking from the rifle to his son, Jack's furious face didn't waver, "Not the point. You know you're NEVER supposed to touch my rifle. Get yourself home!"

"I'm not going home yet," Jethro tried to stand his ground.

"OH, Yes you are," his father was leaving no room for argument.

Reining in his anger, Jethro gathered the few items around him and worked his way back to his camp. Jack couldn't help but be amazed that his son was able to survive in the primitive space. The tent was merely a tarp thrown over some low hung limbs just big enough for the wool blanket and a backpack used as a pillow. A small fire pit had been dug and a few twigs were smoldering with a short pile of kindling and some larger twigs set aside to fuel a larger fire.

The tarp and blanket were quickly gathered and stored in the backpack. The fire pit was buried to put out what was smoldering. All that took only a few minutes' time and Jethro stormed past Jack to get to his truck and return home.

Parking in the street arriving home well ahead of his slower driving father, Jethro headed for his room. He put the backpack on the shelf in his closet, kicked his shoes into the closet and fell onto his bed, feeling angry and guilty.

He heard Jack before he got to the door, but listened to hear if he was coming directly up the stairs. From what he could hear his father was hanging the rifle back on the wall first. 'At least he's not gonna shoot me,' he smirked to himself.

Jack was determined as he headed right for the stairs from the store. Jethro just stayed lying down, waiting. He wasn't surprised that there was no knock before his door slammed open.

"Keys!" his dad ordered.

Jethro sprang up. 'No Way!' he thought. "What keys?" he stalled.

"You know what keys. Hand 'em over!" Seeing the mutinous look in his son's eyes Jack stepped forward set to take them physically.

Watching his father coming toward him Jethro debated whether he should try to fight him off or relent and give up his keys. He held up his hands to stop Jack's advance, the keys dangling from his right hand.

Snatching the keys Jack snarled, "Wise choice. You can just make yourself nice and comfortable here for the next three months."

"Three months?" Jethro was livid.

"I could forget your sixteen and treat you like you were six if you'd prefer," Jack threatened.

Jethro almost paled at that thought and sat down on his bed resigned to his 'sentence'.