Memory Lane

Gibbs walked into the kitchen a little before seven Saturday morning; they'd all stayed up talking far into the night. Jack was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper, an empty plate and utensils sitting off to one side. Father and son grunted to each other, and Gibbs poured himself a cup of coffee. He leaned back against the counter, watching Jack the dog chew on the remains of his ill-gotten marrow bone. "Kelly still asleep?"

"Nope. Took her dog on a walk, came back, left again." Jack checked the time. "Been gone over half an hour now."

Gibbs' gut started giving him warning signals. "She say where she was going?"

Jack shook his head. "Just that she wanted to think."

Gibbs gulped his coffee, then headed for the door. Jack looked up, and called out, "She's a grown woman now, son!"

"I know!"

It took him a while to track her down. He had to give her description to a few people before finding her high up in the bleachers at the baseball field, sitting with her back to the railing. He stood watching her until she saw him and waved, at which point he climbed up to join her.

"Hi, Dad," Sammie greeted as he sat down next to her.

"Hey." He looked at her carefully. She seemed pensive, quiet, and a bit out of sorts. He settled back and waited.

Eventually, she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Not gonna ask, huh?"

He shrugged. "Nope."

The corner of her mouth twitched up in a smile. "'Cause I'll talk when I'm ready, right?"

He smiled as he looked at the empty field. "Yup."

She laughed. "I remember that. Sometimes Mom appreciated it, sometimes it drove her crazy."

Gibbs glanced at her. "And you, today?"

She sighed, then scooted next to him, taking his arm and laying her head on his shoulder. "Appreciate it. Very much."

He wanted to put his arm around her, but she was hanging onto it, so he leaned into her a little. They sat there for a while, until she spoke. "Jack is wonderful."

"Uh huh."

"How come you two didn't talk for so long?"

Gibbs sighed, once again reminding himself that she was an adult. "At the funeral, for you and your mom… he brought a date."

"He what?"

"He brought a date. Some woman I didn't know." Gibbs shook his head. "That was the final straw, though. We hadn't gotten along for a long time… since my mom died."

"Why did he bring a date? No, never mind. I'll ask him if I decide I really need to know." She burrowed closer to him. "It's weird to talk about my own funeral."

"I bet." He debated the pros and cons of asking her why she was out here so early in the morning, but before he could decide, she spoke up.

"You know how when I first showed up at your door, I had all those memories, and I babbled them out to you?"

"One of the best moments of my life."

She squeezed his arm. "So many memories kept popping into my head that day, I figured the same thing would happen here."

Gibbs considered that. "But it hasn't."

She shook her head. She was silent for a while, then she sniffed, and he felt her tense up. He turned toward her, wrapping her up in a hug, and just held on. She cried quietly, tears running down her face, with an occasional sniffle.

Eventually she pulled away and sat up, wiping at her face. She looked at her father. "When Tony first showed me a picture of your dad, I felt happy, so on some level I recognized him. And I did remember his name, eventually. But there's nothing else there." She ran her hand through her hair, pulling it away from her face. "I don't want Jack to know I don't really remember him."

"He won't hear it from me."

She nodded. "I kept waiting for the memories to come back. I wasn't even sure if I used to call him Grandpa or Granddad or what."

"You got it right."

"That's a relief… though I figured he'd have called me on it if I'd gotten it wrong." She grimaced. "This memory thing is so frustrating, you have no idea."

Gibbs shot her a wry smile. "Actually, I do."

She turned to him, irritated, but her expression changed as she saw the truth in his face. "You really do, don't you?" She reached for his hand. "What happened?"

"About five years ago, I was caught in an explosion on a ship. Head injury, coma. When I woke up, I'd lost fifteen years… in my head, I'd only just lost you and your mom. Didn't remember Tony, Ducky, any of my team."

"Oh, wow… that sounds worse than what I'm dealing with."

"Different, maybe. Just as frustrating."

"How did you get the memories back?"

He shook his head. "Not sure I can explain it. Some came back fairly quickly. I ended up leaving, thought I retired, but the director at the time never filed the paperwork. Took off to Mexico for about four months."

"Mexico?"

Gibbs shifted uncomfortably. "Mike Franks was there. I remembered him."

Sammie was quiet for a moment. "Did he help?"

"Yeah."

"That's okay then."

Gibbs slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Wanna go eat breakfast?"

"Yes. I'm starving."

Gibbs laughed, and stood, pulling her up with him and keeping hold of her hand. As they descended the bleachers, he remembered doing the same with Shannon, three-year-old Kelly riding on his shoulders. He smiled at the memory, and for a moment he thought he could hear Shannon's laughter.

"What are we going to do today?" Sammie asked.

"What do you want to do?"

"Dad!"

"Well, Jack's gonna keep the store open until mid-afternoon. So we can do whatever you like until then. Thought we'd take him out to dinner tonight."

"Sounds good." They walked for a few minutes. "Any good hiking trails? We could take my thieving four-footed menace with us… he could use a good run."

"Plenty of trails. We'll pack a lunch."

Sammie grinned at him and squeezed his hand, looking much happier than she had when he found her. She looked up at him, then suddenly frowned. She stopped walking, pulling him to a stop as well, and stood there, looking at him thoughtfully.

"What?" he finally asked.

She tilted her head. "We really need to talk about your haircut."

Mexico

Tony had become progressively quieter as they'd made the drive from the airbase to Franks' beach house. Tim stayed silent, observing the way Tony's grip on the wheel periodically tightened, causing the skin around his knuckles to turn white. Tony's expression grew grimmer as well, until Tim thought he should be able to see literal dark clouds over Tony's head. Finally, about fifteen minutes from Franks' house, Tim told Tony to pull over.

"What? Why?"

"Because you're this close to exploding, and Gibbs will be pissed if you shoot Franks before he gets a chance to do it."

Tony blinked at that, then shook himself slightly, but kept driving. "Thanks, Tim." He sighed. "Not gonna shoot him… I just keep thinking about how Gibbs' life might have been different if he'd come home to a daughter to take care of."

Tim nodded, and looked out the window. "We probably wouldn't recognize him."

Tony laughed suddenly. "Bet he'd have a better haircut."

Tim grinned. "Wonder how long it will take Sammie to decide to say something."

Tony glanced at him. "Five bucks says she will have by the time we get back."

Tim narrowed his eyes. "I'm not so sure. She hadn't seemed to care about it yet. I think she'll wait until they've had more time to get to know each other again. You're on." He glanced at Tony and smiled, happy to see the more relaxed body language.

They pulled up next to Franks' car; Tony cut the engine, and they sat there, looking out at the beach and the ocean. "Worse places to retire," Tim commented.

Tony grunted, released his seatbelt, and opened the door, stretching as he got up. Tim hurried to do the same, and they walked across the sand toward the house.

The front door opened before they reached the porch, and Mike Franks stepped out, eying them thoughtfully. "Probie one, Probie two. What brings you to my door?"

Tony simply stood there, glaring at him, so Tim spoke up. "Hi, Mike."

Mike nodded at him, then studied Tony. "Your Gibbs impersonation is gettin' better, Probie, but it still needs some work."

Tony's eyebrows rose. "I'm not doing Gibbs. This is pure DiNozzo." He met Mike's stare for a moment, then spoke slowly. "We need to talk."

Mike snorted. "Didn't think you just happened to be in the neighborhood and decided to stop by for milk and cookies."

Tim brightened at that. "I wouldn't say no if you had some."

Both older men turned to glare at him. Mike then rolled his eyes and motioned for them to follow him inside.

Tony looked around as they headed into the kitchen. "Layla and Amira?"

"Gone hikin' with her mother at Playas de Rosarito. Won't be back for days." He shook his head as he started brewing some coffee. "Hiking! Can you imagine that old lady scrambling over rocks?" He moved to the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, then pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table. He twisted off the cap, took a long swallow, then stared at the two agents. "What? You're obviously here on official business, what with the NCIS jackets and all; not gonna offer you alcohol just so you can say no. And neither of you look like you've slept much, so help yourself to coffee when it's ready."

Tony and Tim exchanged glances; Tony sat while Tim went to the cabinets to find some mugs. Everyone remained silent until the coffee was ready and Tim brought both mugs to the table and sat.

"So," Mike drawled. "Gonna tell me what this is all about?"

Tony sipped his coffee, looking steadily at Mike. He placed his mug carefully on the table. "We need to know everything about the day Shannon died."

Mike sat back, surprised. "What the hell for?"

Tim leaned forward. "It's part of an ongoing investigation."

Mike glared at him. "Don't give me that crap. I used to play that game, remember?"

Tony slammed his hand down on the table, startling the others. "Everything, Mike."

Mike stared at him.

Tim added quietly, "It's for Gibbs."

Mike turned to Tim, contemplated him for a moment, then sighed and drank some more beer. He shifted in his chair as he set the beer down, a far-away look in his eyes. "Shannon Gibbs… she was a firecracker. Determined to do the right thing. Only agreed to protection for her daughter's sake. Chafed under the restrictions." He shook his head, sitting forward. "Safe house was compromised… found out later one of the LEOs was on Hernandez's payroll. So we needed to move her and the kid. Shannon argued, wanted to go somewhere else, not the new safehouse we had lined up. Said if one was compromised, why not the other?" He turned his head, looking out the open back door, across the sand to the water. "She was right. Hernandez was ready and waiting for the car."

Tony's voice was a growl when he spoke up. "Ever figure out who the bastard was?"

Mike nodded slowly.

"You tell Gibbs?"

Mike shook his head. "Not just no, hell no. Was one thing for him to go after Hernandez on Mexican soil. Whole 'nother thing entirely for him to take out an American cop. Couldn't have hidden that one." Mike finished his beer. "I took care of it."

Tim's eyes widened. "You killed the guy?"

Mike glanced between them. "Nope. I set him up with the cartel, put out the word that he was really working undercover for the feds." He got up, fetching a second beer from the fridge. "He died badly."

Tony nodded, but stopped short of praising Mike's actions. "What happened after the car went off the road?"

Mike's eyes narrowed as he remembered. "Medics were already on scene by the time I got there. Both Shannon and the girl were still alive, but badly injured. Ambulances took them away soon after. My team and I stayed behind for a while to work the scene, then I went to the hospital."

Tony leaned forward, his expression intent. "I need to know every detail you can remember about what happened at the hospital."

Mike raised his eyebrows, sat back, drank some beer, and stared at Tony for a moment. "What's this all about?"

"Just answer the question," Tony replied, exasperated.

Shaking his head, Mike picked up the story. "I went straight to Emergency, showed them Shannon's picture. They sent me to the morgue. I ID'd Shannon. They showed me the girl, ID'd her too."

Tony growled. "Shannon's daughter has a name. Kelly."

Mike stared at Tony, clearly taken aback. "Fine. I ID'd Kelly."

Tim spoke up. "How carefully did you look at her?"

"What do you mean?"

"How did you know it was her?"

"Who the hell else was it gonna be?"

Tony rested his arms on the table and leaned forward. "Answer Tim's question… how carefully did you look?"

Mike cleared his throat, nervous for the first time. "She had brown hair, was in a car accident, she was with Shannon… ain't rocket science, Probie."

"Did you check to see if she was wearing the right clothes? Did you even notice what Kelly was wearing that day?"

Mike shook his head, bewildered.

Tony continued. "Did you have a picture of Kelly to show the hospital staff?"

"Even if I did, not sure it would have done much good. Her face was all torn up."

"So," Tony said quietly, "you assumed."

"I suppose I did… but what difference does it make?"

Tony rose to his feet, placed his palms on the table, and leaned in toward Mike. "Kelly Gibbs lived. The girl you identified as Kelly was Samantha Kendall, who died in a different car accident. Because you decided Samantha was Kelly, Gibbs' daughter grew up without him."

Mike stood, pushing his chair back, mimicking Tony's posture. "How the hell do you know that?"

Tim remained seated. "Abby ran the DNA. You know as well as we do DNA doesn't lie."

Mike turned his head to stare at him. "You're not serious."

Tony straightened up, reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a picture of Sammie, handing it to Mike, who stared at it and went pale. "Holy shit," he whispered. "Probie's gonna kill me."

Tony smiled humorlessly. "Which one? 'Cause there's a line."

Mike looked at Tony. "Gibbs knows?"

Tony nodded. Tim spoke up. "They were reunited Thursday morning. They're in Stillwater right now, with Jack."

Tony's expression hardened. "You need to come back with us and explain this to Gibbs."

Mike stared at him. "Not sure I can."

"Then you at least need to apologize to him. And to her… for not noticing a scared little girl under your protection."

Mike dropped his gaze to the picture still in his hand. "How the hell do I apologize for something like that?" He shook his head. "Not like I can change any of it now."

Tony and Tim looked at each other. Tim shrugged. "You have the whole trip back to figure that out."

Reality Check

Late afternoon on Saturday, Ziva parked her car outside a small house in a Philadelphia suburb. Joann Fielding had moved here about five months after the incident that had brought her back into Gibbs' life. She'd been easy to track down, and Ziva hadn't wanted to wait until Monday to follow up; given that both Gibbs and Tony were away, she had gone to Vance, who had given her permission to get a hotel room for the night.

Ziva had debated calling Joann before leaving DC, but decided she would rather have the element of surprise in her favor. So, here she was, hoping the woman was home and that she hadn't wasted the time spent driving.

She rang the doorbell; it was only a few seconds before the door opened, and Joann stood there, looking at her curiously. Ziva saw the moment Joann recognized her. "Hello, Mrs. Fielding. I do not know if you remember me; we met a little over a year ago…"

Joann smiled at her. "I remember; you work with Jethro. Please, call me Joann." She hesitated, then said, "I'm sorry, but I don't quite remember your name."

Ziva smiled. "My name is Ziva David, and yes, I am on Gibbs' team."

"That's right, Ziva. Won't you come in?"

Joann backed up, opening the door wider and letting Ziva into the house. It was nicely furnished and pleasant, with a lot of light coming in through the windows. Joann invited Ziva to have a seat in the living room and left to make some tea.

Once the tea was ready, Joann brought everything in on a tray, and readied a cup for each of them. Then she settled back in her chair and smiled at Ziva. "So, what can I do for you, Ziva? I trust Jethro is doing well."

Ziva had carefully considered her approach during the drive, and set her plan in motion. "Gibbs is fine. I am actually here at Director Vance's request."

"Oh?"

"Yes… and this is rather sensitive, so I hope you will not mention our conversation to Gibbs, as he does not know I am here."

Joann looked surprised, but was quick to respond. "I don't think we have to worry about that," she said.

Ziva pretended not to understand Joann's meaning; she knew Gibbs had no contact with his former mother-in-law. "Thank you. There are some, I think we can call them discrepancies, in Gibbs' file that the director would like me to verify with you."

Joann's eyes widened; she set her teacup down and leaned forward. "I'll help in any way I can."

Ziva smiled at her and drank some tea, cradling the cup in her hands as she explained. "There appears to be some information missing from his file regarding his life in Stillwater around the time that he joined the Marines. Anything you can tell us would be helpful; the director needs to know if Gibbs' security clearance is a concern."

Joann frowned. "I'm not sure what I can tell you. I didn't get to know Jethro well until he had been dating my daughter for some time."

"Your daughter was Shannon, yes?"

Joann sat back, smiling. "Yes, she was. The most beautiful girl."

"Yes, I have seen pictures. Gibbs was very lucky to have married her."

Joann's smile faded. "He was." She took a deep breath. "Jethro's a good man. But my Shannon… she could have done better."

"How so?"

"I wanted her to go to college. She was so smart, so capable. She could have done anything. But she met Jethro, and that was that. Marriage, motherhood… no time for a career."

"She was happy with Gibbs?"

"Oh, yes. She loved him, and her daughter. I wanted more for her, but I learned to be content."

"You had a good man for a son-in-law, a happy daughter, and a lovely granddaughter."

Joann's smile didn't mask the sadness in her eyes. "They were a lovely family. But then, they moved away. We didn't see them enough after that."

Ziva sipped her tea. "It is sad, to have those you love so far away."

Joann's face changed for a moment, her expression a combination of regret and anger. "Jethro insisted the girls go with him. They could have stayed with us."

Ziva looked surprised. "Surely Shannon want to go with him?"

"Yes." Joann scowled. "I could have convinced her to stay, if Jethro hadn't interfered."

Concealing her annoyance, Ziva said, "Their leaving must have been very difficult for you."

"It was." Joann pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. "Jethro took my girls away."

Ziva shook her head in mock sympathy. "I do not know if I could forgive that, had I been in your position."

Joann laughed quietly; it was a bitter sound. "How could I forgive him? They died. My beautiful girls died."

Raising a finger, Ziva tilted her head as if remembering something. "I believe I heard that you were asked to identify them, after the accident."

"Yes. Jethro was deployed. I was Shannon's secondary emergency contact."

"Both Shannon and Kelly were killed at that time, yes?"

Joann looked off to the side; it was a moment before she could speak. "I was told Shannon died quickly. Before they reached the hospital. Kelly took longer, but the result was the same."

"A terrible thing, to lose a child so young."

Joann closed her eyes. "It was so cold in that room. I remember thinking the girls needed thicker blankets. Then I remembered they couldn't feel it."

"It must have been difficult, to look at a little girl in such a place, knowing she might be your little girl."

Joann used her handkerchief, wiping the moisture away from her eyes and preserving her makeup. "It was. They warned me her face was injured. I looked, but just for a second."

Ziva sipped her tea, then placed the cup back on the saucer. "So, you were sure of the identification?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I be? They already knew it was Kelly."

Ziva tilted her head slightly. "Ah, but they did not."

Joann's lips parted, but she didn't speak, just shook her head slightly in confusion.

Ziva took the picture of Sammie out of her pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to Joann. "Kelly lived. She was somehow switched with another girl, whose name was Samantha Kendall. Samantha died in a different car accident."

Joann barely glanced at the picture, then spoke firmly. "No."

Ziva ignored the denial, and continued. "Kelly had a head injury and memory loss. She did not remember being Kelly Gibbs, and everyone at the hospital told her she was Samantha Kendall, so she accepted what she was told."

Joann crumpled the edge of the picture with her fist. "That's not possible. I would have recognized my own granddaughter."

Ziva met her eyes, her expression cold. "You just said you only looked for a second." Ziva gestured toward the picture in Joann's hand. "Look at the picture. You can see the resemblance to your own daughter. You can see the resemblance to Gibbs." Ziva didn't miss Joann's slight flinch when she said Gibbs' name.

Joann tried to meet Ziva's gaze, but couldn't. She gave in, glancing down at the picture, then quickly looked over Ziva's shoulder. "I don't recognize this woman. Why are you doing this?"

Ziva's eyes narrowed. "That is Kelly Gibbs. She remembers being Kelly. She remembers her father and her mother, and has shared things no one else could know. We have verified her identity with DNA. And I am doing this because she deserves to know the truth, as does her father. They deserve to know why."

Joann turned her head away, refusing to look at either the picture or Ziva. "Why what?"

"Why you identified a stranger as your granddaughter. Why you had them buried before Gibbs could get back to his family, to say a final goodbye."

Joann looked quickly at Ziva, her gaze a mix of haughty and triumphant, as if she had just won something. "You are lying to me. You just said Kelly was buried."

Ziva made an exasperated noise deep in her throat. "I said no such thing." She stood abruptly, taking a few steps around the coffee table to stand in front of Joann. Reaching down she took the picture out of Joann's hand and held it in front of her face. "Look again. She looks like Shannon. Your daughter. She looks like Gibbs. She is your granddaughter."

Joann finally gave in, reluctantly looking at the picture, beyond just a cursory glance. As she looked, her expression changed. One hand came up to cover her mouth as her eyes traced the contours of Sammie's face. The other reached out, fingers moving over the picture, and her eyes widened before squeezing shut. The wail that erupted from her throat brought tears to Ziva's eyes, but she suppressed them, continuing to hold the picture in front of Joann despite the older woman's attempt to push it away. Only when Joann's hands moved to cover her face and she gave way to wracking sobs did Ziva set the picture down on the coffee table and go in search of tissues.

She gave Joann several minutes to compose herself before returning with a box she'd taken from the bathroom. She set the box down in front of Joann, who mumbled her thanks and used them liberally while Ziva sat back down and finished her tea.

Without looking at Ziva, Joann rose and went to the bathroom, taking several minutes to fix her face before returning. When she sat down, she looked everywhere but at the picture or at Ziva.

"When can I see her?" Joann asked.

Ziva looked at her thoughtfully. "If I had my way, never."

Joann stared at her, eyes round and shocked.

Ziva sat back in her chair, keeping her own voice calm. "You have repeatedly blamed Gibbs for taking his family with him, even though it is natural for families to stay together. He was a good father – no, he is a good father, who loves his daughter. You buried them before he could come home. You denied him a chance to say goodbye, but most of all, you denied him a chance to see that the dead girl was not Kelly. He would have moved heaven and earth to find her, if he had known. Instead, because you were selfish, he has lived with regret for twenty years. Kelly grew up without him. She had her identity erased. She will have to find her way back, and that is no thanks to you."

Joann's chin trembled, but she sat straight and held Ziva's gaze. "I have every right to see my granddaughter."

Ziva suddenly leaned forward, her body tense, her voice laced with anger. "She is a grown woman! You said she was dead. She is twenty-eight years old and has a life and plans of her own."

Joann looked at her, eyes narrowed. There was a slight smile on her face as she asked, "Ziva, who took your life away from you?"

Ziva froze, her own eyes filling with tears. Again, she forced them away and remained calm, standing and tossing her hair back over her shoulder. "I have heard all I need to. I will tell Sammie that you know, and give her your contact information if she requests it."

Joann stared at Ziva as she turned and walked away. "Her name is Kelly." Her tone was harsh and uncompromising.

Ziva stopped, turning her head to look back at Joann. "She prefers to be called Sammie. As she has said, she has been Sammie longer than she was Kelly. If she no longer feels a kinship to her given name, you are at least partly to blame."

Ziva waited for a few seconds, but Joann stayed silent, so she walked out the front door, shutting it quietly behind her, then headed for her car. Checking the time on her phone, she decided she would rather drive home than stay in a hotel. She didn't notice Joann standing at the window, watching her leave.