That coming morning, Jethro woke up and forced himself to put his game face on. He had a quick shower and tried to calm his nerves. He unceremoniously threw on a light blue polo shirt, a pair of grey dress pants, as well as his light brown pair of steel-toed boots. Jethro threw an extra outfit into his old USMC pack but didn't think that he was going to need much else.

Grabbing his Army green Carhartt Berwick jacket and tossing it over his right shoulder, Jethro headed downstairs to have some cereal and chat with his wife.

"Where are you off to today again?" his wife asked

Jethro took a sip of his coffee and then responded to the question. "Sterling, Virginia. Shouldn't be gone long, but I'm bringing a change of clothes just in case." He didn't want to worry Shannon if it wasn't strictly necessary and, well, he'd also been ordered to keep mum on the issue.

"I know we don't have an operational SCIF," Secretary Jarvis stayed, "so what I have to say stays in this room. We've been instructed to locate Harper Dearing and proceed with extreme prejudice."

Shannon nodded before taking a sip of her coffee.

Jethro took a bite of his Grainy O's, feeling a bit bad that he was lying to her but also aware it was the best call at the moment. Worrying wasn't going to do her any good. "So, what are your plans for the day? Besides brunch with Stacy?"

"Not sure", she replied. "Might visit Mom."

"That's nice," he said. "Give her my regards."

She gave a little hum. "I was thinking we should head to the cabin for a weekend?"

"That'd be nice," he said. "We could leave Friday night."

"Good by me," she replied with a large grin.

He stayed at home with his wife until 0800 when he finally left for the Navy Yard.

Rummaging through his desk, Jethro placed his tan ZTO302 and ranger green ZT0301 pocketknives along with a few other things from his drawer into his USMC pack.

As Jethro zipped up the pocket that he has placed the pocketknives in, McGee got up from his desk and started to walking over to him with a small piece of paper.

"Do not give it to him. McGee!" Ziva demanded, audibly upset that he wasn't bringing any back up with him to confront Dearing. "He's being a stubborn fool."

He shot the young Israeli a look.

"Okay," Ziva said, "but you're definitely being stubborn."

He gestured for McGee to hand him the piece of paper. "McGee."

"It's the address," McGee said. "You sure you don't want any company?"

"Yeah," he replied. Jethro glanced down at the small piece of paper in his hand before gruffly shoving it into his right jacket pocket.

"Vance knows?" McGee asked.

"Yeah, he does." He picked up his pack. "Every bit of it.

Ziva wasn't going to drop it. "This is infuriating."

DiNozzo stated the rather obvious, the younger man's way of telling Jethro that he too took issue with the lack of backup. "Ziva is upset."

Jethro threw the USMC pack onto his shoulder silently before closing his desk drawer and finally coming out from behind the desk. He knew that his team was reluctant to let him go, but it wasn't going to stop Jethro from going. "What's a four-letter word for surviving a terrorist attack?"

DiNozzo was the one to respond. "Luck."

He turned to his three field agents. "Watch out for each other." With that, Jethro began making his way over to the elevator and out of the building.

Walking outside, Jethro grabbed himself a large black coffee from the coffee stand that was just outside there and hopped into his truck, starting the drive to Stirling.

Fifty minutes later, Jethro was pulling up to the house on Fenton Wood Drive. It was a white single-family home with a stone pathway leading up to the door, surrounded by trees. Jethro could hear several horses neighing in the background.

Walking through the unlocked door, he could hear a tape playing. Evan had obviously used cassette tapes to communicate with his family, much like Jethro himself had back when he was on active duty.

"Hi, Mom and Dad!" Evan said on the tape. "This is my sixth day at sea. I finally feel like I got my sea legs. Mess has been better than I expected. It's amazing how many green vegetables they serve on a ship. My bunkmate, Roger, says he never sleeps as well at home as he does at sea. My C.O. is intimidating, but he's fair. His given pretty much all the newbies a nickname so far."

Dearing got his attention. "Turn that off, will ya?"

"You know," Evan said on the tape, "I'm just trying to keep my head down. I'm finally being able to find my way around the ship."

"Evan used to send us cassette tapes to listen to, see how he was doing." Dearing shot him a look from over at the coffee machine. "Please."

"I'll be in touch as..." Jethro stopped the tape.

"Trying to make you a nice cup of coffee," Dearing said. "I know you like it, but this..." The man chuckled. "This machine is impossible. How about something stronger?" The man walked over with a couple of empty glasses and a bottle of bourbon.

Jethro just eyed the man.

"I'm glad you came, Gibbs!" Dearing said, starting to pour a drink. "I was hoping you'd figure it out eventually. The house where Evan was born. I'm sure you've had similar feelings for Kelly's home."

He had. That's exactly how Jethro knew that he'd find the other man here.

Dearing offered Jethro the drink that he'd just poured, Jethro declining it with a very slight shake of the head. The man then raised the glass in rather grim cheers. "'Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it.' Mary Shelley." The man nodded to a chair. "Sit."

He shook his head, feeling quite tense. "No."

"You and I are a lot alike, you know." Dearing eyed him. "I know what you did for your family. You made one decision; I made another. Both will do what we have to do." The man walked over to the window, placing his glass down. Jethro immediately noted the gun that Dearing was trying to hide. "You have a job to do, Gibbs. I've done mine. Do I have regrets?"

Jethro subtly pulled out his tan ZTO302 pocketknife from his right jacket pocket.

"Yeah," Dearing continued, sounding quite grim now. "Some. But not all. Maybe things happen for a reason."

Dearing went for the handgun, turning around to shoot him. Jethro raised his knee to knock the gun away and give him the opening he needed, shoving his blade into the other man's stomach. His attention was pulled between the man in his arms and the wind chimes that were tinkling outside.

Once Dearing had passed away, the veteran agent pulled out his knife, letting the man fall to the ground, battling internally with what he'd just done.

Taking a shaky breath, he proceeded to contact Vance and deal with the scene. He had some blood on his shirt, so Jethro changed out of it the second that he could, throwing on the red plaid shirt that was folded up nicely in his USMC pack instead.

He was still reeling a bit from the situation when Vance caught his attention as he was making his way out of the director's office. "Gibbs."

He turned around to face his boss. "Yeah, Director?"

The other man came out from behind his desk. "How are you doing? Really."

He gave a little shrug. "What I did needed doing."

"Still," Vance said, "it's not easy."

He gave the other man a small smile. "It's not supposed to be easy."

Vance gave a little chuckle. "Ain't that the truth." The director then adopted a slightly more serious look. "Take the rest of the day." Jethro was about to interject, but Vance put his hand up. "Go home. Spend time with your wife."

Jethro sighed. "Leon."

The director eyed him. "Take the time, Gibbs."

He finally relented. He didn't feel as though he actually needed the time off, but having more time to spend with Shannon was never a bad thing in Jethro's books. Far from it, in fact. "Fine, Leon."

"Good," Vance said. "Then I'll see you at 0900 tomorrow, Agent Gibbs."

Jethro gave a little snort at the man's use of his title and the later start time. "See you tomorrow, Director Vance."

Calling his wife to let her know that he was on his way home, Jethro made his way out of the building, actually looking forward to the afternoon off.