Chapter 37

Tim managed to put off writing to his advisor for a couple of weeks before he finally gave in to Tony's prodding. In the meantime, he started reading the books Tony brought him. Sarah came up to visit him. Margaret came down to visit him. Jack came to make arrangements for his truck and to visit. Ducky came and spoke with Tim about every other day. The forced stillness had Tim grasping at whatever would distract him from his chaotic thoughts, and without realizing it, he started to rely more on other people to help him.

He also started reading more. There were times that Ducky would come to see him and Tim wouldn't even notice him for a few minutes after he came in the room. It was nice to see Tim in a situation where he was distracted because of a pleasant task rather than because of his darker thoughts. He still had nightmares most nights and Ducky had been required to tell the hospital staff about the problems Tim had been having because he had a couple of episodes while he was in the hospital and his leg in traction made it more difficult. Thankfully, someone had been on hand both times.

Today, however, there was an important letter that had arrived at the hospital. Tony brought it and was happy that Ducky was already there to talk to Tim when he came. Just in case.

"Hey, anything exciting?" he asked.

Tim looked away from Ducky.

"Are you kidding? I'm going to go crazy for real if I don't get out of this rig soon."

"Well, I have something to distract you," Tony said and held up the letter.

"What is it?" Tim asked.

"From MIT."

Tim swallowed audibly.

"Oh."

"Don't leave us in suspense, Tim! Open it!" Tony said and thrust it at Tim.

Tim took it and looked at the envelope.

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

Gibbs dismissed his students. This course of training was nearing its end. His Marines had dinner in the mess. Many had been filtered out over time as was usual, but he had a good group...not that he'd actually tell them that during training. He'd been transferred to Quantico just a couple of months before to take on the sniper training there. He found it to be an enjoyable shift, using the skills he had to train others to do the same thing.

"Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs."

Gibbs turned.

"Yes, PFC Fallan?"

"You've been requested for a meeting at headquarters."

Gibbs nodded but inside he was wondering why he was being summoned. It was possible that he was going to be forced to accept a promotion. He'd been resisting being promoted to Master Sergeant because he much preferred what he was doing now. The higher the promotion, the broader the responsibilities. He didn't need the money, living by himself. There was really no incentive for him to move up.

Still, one couldn't refuse a summons; so he walked over to the headquarters and was conducted to a conference room.

The sight that greeted him was not what he had expected. Instead of one of his superiors, what he saw was an admiral. For a moment, he wasn't sure why this man looked familiar to him, but then, it came to him.

"Admiral McGee," he said.

Admiral McGee looked surprised.

"Have we met, Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs?"

"No, we haven't, sir. I know who you are, though."

"Do you, then, know why I'm here?" he asked, sounding more than a little stiff.

"I would assume that you are going to ask me about your son, but beyond that, I don't know. Sir."

Gibbs hid his surprise at seeing the elder McGee. The stern, commanding expression was familiar from the family portrait. He hadn't expected ever to see the man himself. He had kept himself from confronting John McGee, although he had wanted to. Now, the man himself was here, and Gibbs wasn't sure why.

"You were my son's CO."

"Yes, I'm aware of that, sir." Gibbs wasn't sure he'd ever felt less respect in the title.

Admiral McGee apparently felt some of that because he stiffened even more.

"Was there a question I could answer for the Admiral, sir?"

"I looked at my son's record."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Why did you keep him?"

"He had a good record."

"He was transferred many times before being a part of your team."

"Yes, he was. He had no black marks against him. I don't see why it's strange that I kept him. Sir."

"I saw what happened just before he was transferred to your team. The death of his entire squad and the way he changed his story. And after he was on your team, there were some minor altercations on base, involving my son."

Gibbs took a chance.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted."

Gibbs geared himself to make a speech. He didn't make speeches. It went against his principles, generally, but in this case, he'd been saving the words up for quite some time. They'd had a chance to build up even more than usual.

"It sounds to me as though you're trying to find something wrong with your son's service in Vietnam, something to justify your actions. I'm sorry, sir, but you're not going to find that. Your son served honorably in Vietnam. He refused to compromise his morals, even when that went against what was being done by his squad when they threatened to rape an innocent woman. He stopped them from doing that. He saved my life. He saved the life of his comrade more than once. I trusted him and felt no regret in keeping him on my team. He received an honorable discharge which he deserved. Your son is a good Marine, and all he did was disagree with you and you threatened to take away what he valued most."

Admiral McGee stiffened. "I never threatened my son."

"You told him that he wouldn't have a family if he left Vietnam before the war was over. You don't consider that a threat?"

"He was threatening the McGee name."

"I don't know anything about that," Gibbs said. "Names don't tend to mean much to me."

"We have an honor to uphold."

"By being a good person. Are you going to say that you believe the skewed perspective in the news here?"

"Perception matters."

"To you, I guess it does. The truth matters more to me than what a bunch of talking heads say."

"Are you going to say that there's no truth to the massacre at My Lai, to the tens of thousands of civilians killed in a civil war because of our intervention?"

"Are you going to persist in ignoring what your son actually did?"

"Meaning?"

His voice was as stiff as ever.

"Your son was not at My Lai. He never killed civilians. In fact, he went out of his way to keep them safe. I witnessed that with my own eyes. He risked a lot by trying to make sure that a village which was attacked by the Viet Cong was safe and he succeeded. I could give you a long list of honorable things your son has done. Can you give me anything that he has done wrong in the Marine Corps? Anything at all?"

"The war isn't over."

"It might as well be. The end is coming and everyone can see it. Your son served for nearly four years without reprieve. The Korean War lasted less time than your son was in Vietnam."

"He knew what he was getting into."

Gibbs let himself laugh incredulously.

"No one knows what to expect before getting into combat. That's not something you can train for, and his first exposure to combat was worse than most get. I'm sure you would never shirk your duties, but if you were on that hill, you wouldn't be saying what you're saying. The fact that he survived and continued to fight without complaint should tell you all you need to know about your son. ...but then, you shouldn't need to be told what kind of a man your son is. You should know that already."

"I know my son."

"I don't think you do. Not at all. Sir, you are an admiral in the Navy. You have earned that position and the respect that goes along with it, but you have not earned the position that should have been more important. You don't deserve to be Tim's father because either you don't know your son at all or you are ignoring who your son is and what he's done in favor holding on to your ego. While I may have to respect you as an admiral, I don't respect you as a person." He paused. His entire statement had been spoken bluntly but without a lot of emotion. "Was there anything else, sir?"

He was surprised that Admiral McGee made no comment.

"No. You're dismissed, Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs."

Gibbs knew himself to be fairly stoic, but he'd never seen someone who showed absolutely nothing like this. How could he listen to all that and feel nothing? He saluted and started to leave the room, but then, he turned back. There was one thing he felt still needed to be said. Maybe Admiral McGee would hear it.

"Tim is in a hospital after a serious accident that could have killed him. He's lucky that all he got was a broken leg. Your son could have died, Admiral McGee, and instead of visiting him, instead of talking to your son, making sure he was all right, you came here to find out if there was something he'd done wrong in spite of his record. Tim worried about losing you as his father the entire time he was in Vietnam. Why do you think he never went home when he came back two years ago? He didn't want to lose his father and his attitude toward you now is a result of the total betrayal you gave to him. He didn't want to lose his father but his father didn't care about losing his son. And the worst of it is, Tim would have forgiven you before. I don't know if he can now and I certainly don't think he should. Good day, Admiral McGee."

Then, Gibbs left the room feeling much better. He had wished for the opportunity to give Tim's father a piece of his mind, a few pieces, actually. He just couldn't believe that any man would reject his son over something so nebulous as family honor when the reason for worrying about it was created in his own mind.

He hoped that Tim wouldn't lose any more sleep over this man until his father attempted to gain forgiveness. Gibbs, being the man he was, didn't think that Tim should forgive his father, but it wasn't his decision and if Tim wanted to, he'd support him.

As he headed back to his students, making sure that they'd left everything in perfect order, Gibbs had another thought.

He hoped that John McGee might make the effort that it would take to be worthy of having a son like Timothy McGee.

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

"Come on, Tim. Open it. It won't change if you don't."

"I can't go yet anyway," Tim said softly. "I'm still stuck in this stupid bed, with this stupid broken leg."

"Doesn't matter. Open it."

"Open it and see what there is to see, Timothy," Ducky added.

Tim leaned back against the pillows for a few seconds and then nodded. He straightened as much as he could and then ripped open the envelope. This wouldn't be an official admission letter. It was from his old advisor, but it was more important than an admission letter. Tim knew he could be readmitted. It was a matter of whether or not the people there would accept him.

He looked at the letter.

"Read it aloud if you don't mind, Tim," Tony suggested. "We'd love to hear."

Tim cleared his throat. The letter wasn't long.

"'Dear Tim...'" Tim took a breath and continued. "'I received your letter. I'm relieved that you survived your military service in Vietnam. You were gone longer than I would have expected of you and I thought it likely that you had been killed in action like so many other poor souls. Receiving your letter was a wonderful piece of news for me and for the other faculty in the department. Obviously, most of the students you attended with have graduated already. As for your question about whether or not you would be welcomed back as a veteran, I wish that you didn't feel the question was necessary to ask, but I know why you feel that way and I apologize for my harsh words when you left. If your intention is to return and complete your Master's degree, I speak for the department when I say that we would be happy to have you come. If you fill out the required forms which I have included in this correspondence, you can begin with the new academic year in September. I look forward to seeing your name on the admissions list. Sincerely, Professor Harold Sumter.'"

Tim was quiet for a few seconds and then let out a whoosh of air. He looked tentatively up at Tony and Ducky.

"That's excellent, Tim!" Tony said excitedly. "You're going back to being a geek! That's excellent!"

Tim smiled. "I hope so."

"It will be. You'll see. Now, you have something to look forward to when you get out of this stuff."

Tim looked at Ducky.

"What if I still have problems...and I know I will? Ducky, what if..."

"You will learn to weather those storms when they come, and I will still be willing to help you as I did while you were in Stillwater. Personal visits will be nearly impossible, but I will still be available. If you are open and honest with the people who are in your sphere, then, you will be more likely to succeed with them and with yourself." Ducky patted Tim on the shoulder. "You have the chance to gain more than you might have otherwise, Timothy. Accept it and let your life become your own again."

Tim looked at the letter and then at Tony who seemed almost giddy at Tim's good news. He had seemed to move extremely smoothly from military to civilian life. Tim's road had been full of road blocks, dead ends, twists and turns until Tim himself had been ready to give up. Now, as Ducky said, he had a chance for more. It was terrifying. It was anxiety-inducing. It could all blow up in his face again.

...and yet...it was what he wanted more than anything.

A real life. The life he'd willingly set aside years before to answer a call for aid.

Now, it could be his again, although Tim was still skeptical that it could be the same as it was. He was too much changed. The periods of anger were much less but they still happened. The anxiety was still there, but the lead balloon was much smaller. The nightmares weren't going away, but at least he was at the point where he remembered that they were nightmares. The episodes...those were lessened, but they were still frightening when they happened. Would they ever leave him completely? He didn't know. Probably not, but it was a chance he could take and hope for better.

Hope. Something he'd lacked before.

And now, because of an accident, he'd somehow gained it again. Who would have thought that a broken leg could have led to this?

"Timothy?"

"I'd...never forgive myself if I didn't try," Tim said softly. "I can't not do it."

Tony nodded.

"Exactly."

"So...I guess I'm going," Tim said and then smiled a little. "...as soon as I get this junk off my leg."

Tony let out a whoop and said Tim had to call everyone and tell them everything, that if he didn't Tony would for him. He did say that he'd tell Abby himself, though.

And Tim leaned back in the bed and thought about the decision he'd made.

Was it the right one? Probably.

Would his dad be proud of it? Tim sighed inwardly. No, even if his dad knew about it, it wouldn't be enough. It never was.

But he was going to do it. He'd made the decision.