Chapter 21

Two months later...

Gibbs walked up the sidewalk to a modest house. It had been cared for, and right now, with spring weather in full force, the garden looked beautiful. Gibbs hadn't been sure how to go about this, but he figured that, if Tim had come home and been accepted, even if he wasn't there right now, they'd know where he was. If Tim had been rejected, he could give the McGee family a piece of his mind. It was a win-win situation.

He knocked politely on the door.

It opened, revealing a young woman, probably around twenty years old.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Is this the McGee residence?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes. Do you need to talk to my dad? Because he isn't here right now. He's working. Mom's home though."

"I'd like to speak to your mother."

"Can I tell her who you are?"

"Gunnery Sergeant Jethro Gibbs. I served with your brother, I assuming."

"Oh! Wow! Yes, come in!"

She ran off ahead of him, calling for her mother. Gibbs waited just inside the door and looked around at what he could see of the house. It was clean and well-kept, just like the outside. There was a family portrait on the wall in the hallway. He walked over and looked at it. It was obvious that this had been taken before Tim had joined the Marines. No military cut, and Tim looked a lot younger and more carefree. There was a twinkle in his eyes that Gibbs had never seen. John McGee was in his uniform and seemd excessively formal compared to his son and daughter, both of whom were smiling broadly at the camera. Actually, Tim looked a lot like his father, only not so rigid.

"Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs?"

The mouthful made him smile. Gibbs turned and nodded to the older woman who had come into view.

"Jethro," he corrected her and put out his hand.

She shook it.

"I'm Margaret. I wish my husband were here, but he's still actively working on base. I keep hoping I can convince him to retire, but I doubt it'll happen anytime soon." She smiled in easy acceptance of the vagaries of her husband. "Please, come into the living room."

"Thank you, ma'am."

They walked into the living room and Gibbs saw another family portrait. Still pre-dating Tim joining the Marines, but he looked older there...and yet, that twinkle was still there, the one that made Tim look so different from the man Gibbs had served with. Margaret noticed his gaze.

"That was taken the year Tim started grad school." She sighed a little. "It was the last time we were able to get all of us together. Please, have a seat."

"Thanks."

"What brings you here, Jethro? Did Tim send a letter for us with you?"

Gibbs felt his brow furrow.

"I haven't seen him in over a year, ma'am."

"What?"

Margaret's brow also furrowed.

"He was discharged over a year ago. I came to ask how he was doing."

"No. That's not possible," Margaret said. "He's been sending us letters over the last year...telling us about being in Vietnam. He had that jungle rot and then he went back to work with you."

"No," Gibbs said, shaking his head. "No, he wasn't. The jungle rot was bad and he had some other issues and so he was sent back here. He received an honorable discharge in January of 1970."

"I have his letters," Margaret said. "Let me get them."

She got to her feet and left the room. Gibbs sat back and felt more than a little surprise. Tim had been writing to his family as if he was still in Vietnam. He was lying...and then, Gibbs realized why. Tim was supposed to stay until the end of the war.

Margaret came in with a few letters.

"There aren't many. He told us that he'd be busier than he had been and it would be harder to find time to write."

Gibbs took them and looked at them.

"Do you have the envelopes?"

"No, I'm sorry. I don't. I just...I didn't ever imagine that Tim would lie to us about it."

Gibbs decided to bite his tongue about why Tim was lying. Margaret probably didn't feel the same as Tim's dad had. He skimmed through a couple of the letters and there was little in the way of content. Just a few mentions of the weather and that he was busy, and always closing with an expression of love for his family.

"Where would he be?"

"I don't know, but I have some leave time still, and I'll see what I can find out. As soon as I know, I'll contact you."

Gibbs stood to go and Margaret did as well.

"Thank you. I always was afraid for Tim while he was in Vietnam, just like I was afraid for his father when he was in Korea. Somehow, finding out that he's...somewhere else, is more frightening than knowing he's in danger. I've seen the anti-war protesters and the things they've said about the military. I hope Tim hasn't. His father warned him about what he could see, but it would be worse now. Things have been getting worse and worse. I'm sure you've seen some of it, yourself."

Gibbs nodded without elaborating, and he didn't see that it would be possible for Tim to have missed all the anti-war stuff. Even Ziva had known about some of it. Still, what was the point in saying so? He just shook Margaret's hand again and left the house. As he headed for his car, he started to think about where he would start. Maybe there was something in Tim's discharge papers. He could ask.

"Gunnery Sergeant? Uh...Gibbs?"

Gibbs turned around and saw Sarah running out of the house.

"Sorry. Tim said that you didn't like being called Gunnery Sergeant, but I didn't know what else to call you."

"Gibbs is fine. What is it?"

"Mom said that you're going to see if you can find Tim?"

"Yeah. I'll do my best."

Sarah started to hedge a little and Gibbs had a feeling she was wanting to say something more. He decided to leap to the conclusion that would surprise him but not shock him.

"Do you know where your brother is?"

"Well...kind of."

"Meaning?"

"I'm going to college at Waverley, down in DC. I'm home for the summer."

Sarah looked really uncomfortable, digging her foot into the grass. Gibbs waited.

"Once after I was done with class, I came out and there he was. He was just standing there, waiting for me. I almost didn't recognize him. He looked so different from what I remembered. I was kind of scared of him."

"Why?"

Sarah looked up.

"He just looked wrong. His eyes were so different. He still had the military cut, and...and he must have seen...a lot of stuff. He wouldn't ever tell us what he did in his letters. But he looked so...different. I can't really explain it. I was happy to see him, though. I really was."

"I'm sure you were. So what happened?"

"We went to lunch. I asked him how long he'd been back. He said that he'd been back here for...for months, but he couldn't go home. Because of Dad. He was afraid of losing us. I was afraid of that, too. He told me that he just missed me so much that he couldn't resist stopping by to see me once."

"Have you seen him a lot since then?"

"No. Not once since then. He's sent me letters, though."

"Return address?"

Sarah held out an envelope. Sure enough. There was an address on them.

"You never found it?"

Sarah shook her head.

"Tim didn't want me to, and I was afraid of going against what he wanted. Maybe you can help him...help him not look the way he does."

Gibbs thought of the man he'd seen in those family portraits, the man he'd never known. He wondered if Tim would look any worse than he had in Vietnam or if the Tim that frightened his sister was the one that Gibbs had known.

"What are you going to do?" she asked. "Are you going to tell my parents?"

"Not right now. I'm going to go down to DC and find McGee first."

"Thanks. I wanted to be able to tell someone, but what my dad said...I couldn't let that happen. I don't want to lose my brother."

"You won't. Not because of this."

Sarah nodded and then went back into the house. Gibbs looked after her and then looked down at the envelope. He got into his car and started driving south. He didn't have anything pressing on his time right now. His father knew what he was doing, and he didn't have to report back to Norfolk for another two weeks. As he drove, Gibbs thought about what Tim had done and how he'd managed it. How had he not gone through the post office for the letters home? Regardless, Gibbs was seeing that Tim hadn't got any better in the year he'd been home. He'd hidden from the people who apparently meant the most to him, for fear of losing them. He had an address, but was it genuine? Was Tim living on the street? Was he moving on in everything except for his family? Why hadn't he gone back to MIT? Had they rejected him or was it, again, that fear?

What he was seeing, no matter the cause, was that Ducky had been right. Tim was lost, to use Ziva's words. Gibbs wasn't going to stand for that. Tim was still a part of his team, even if his team didn't really exist anymore. He wasn't going to let one of his team be lost.

Marines never left a man behind and Gibbs wasn't about to start now, just because he wasn't in Vietnam anymore.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs walked through the streets of DC, one eye on the addresses and the other on the envelope. He didn't know what he was looking for and so it could be nothing or it could be something. He'd seen the anti-war protesters out in force and he ignored them. Nothing could be gained by listening to people who were no better than any other group who chose stereotypes over reality. Reality was messy and inexact. Stereotypes made for easy slogans. Perhaps there was even some truth in what they were shouting, but the plain fact of the matter was that as long as all they wanted to do was shout, they weren't going to address reality and probably just as many people would be hurt as helped by what they were doing.

He stopped in front of a building. It had a sign declaring it to be Jim's Gym. It looked like a boxing gym. This was the address that Tim had mailed his letters to Sarah from? It didn't look too promising.

Still, he had to start somewhere. He decided to go in.

The gym wasn't very full at the moment, but there was a man at the front desk, perhaps a little older than Gibbs himself was.

"Good morning, sir," the man said politely. "We're technically not open right now, but if you're wanting to talk about joining the gym, I'm more than willing to talk about it."

Gibbs smiled. "I'm not looking for a gym membership."

"What is it, then?"

"I'm looking for someone who's been sending letters from here."

The friendly expression closed off.

"It's my establishment. I can send letters here if I want to."

"I'm not the police," Gibbs said. "I'm looking for a friend. We served together in Vietnam."

"Who is it you're looking for?" the man asked, his stance relaxing slightly.

"Tim McGee."

"And who are you?"

"Jethro Gibbs. If he's not here, just tell me and I'll look for him somewhere else."

"Why do you want to know where he is?"

"Because I don't leave my men behind, and I'm afraid he might be in danger of that. Do you know where he is?"

The man was silent for a few seconds. Gibbs waited. This was his only lead at the moment. If there was something to be learned here, he would be patient.

Finally, the man nodded.

"Tim's here. Do you want to talk to him?"