Gibbs woke up with a stiff neck. He slowly sat up, and froze when he noticed he was not alone. Jackson was sitting in an old wooden chair next to the workbench.

"Dad, what are you doing here?" Gibbs asked, staring blankly at his father as he stiffly got to his feet.

"You know exactly why I'm here, Leroy."

"They're just dreams, Dad... I'm fine." Gibbs started toward the stairs.

"They're not just dreams, are they?"

He stopped before he reached the stairs, but did not turn to face his father.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Not talking about it is how you got into this situation."

There was silence for what seemed like an eternity.

"I'm going to bed," Gibbs finally said, and started up the stairs.

"You have to tell me sooner or later, son. It's been 55 years."

The statement stopped Gibbs in his tracks, and brought him back down a few steps. He glared at his father.

"It took years to forget about what happened that day. I don't want to relive it."

Jackson got up and moved toward the stairs.

"Don't you see what you're doing to yourself? It's killing you, son, and I won't stand by and let you destroy yourself!"

"What if I want it that way?" Gibbs said angrily. "What if destroying myself is the only way? It's my fault she's gone! I should have protected her!"

"You were nine years old!"

"She was my sister! I had to protect her, and I failed! There's nothing you can say or do that will change that, so stop trying!"

Gibbs turned and stormed up the stairs, slamming the basement door behind him. Jackson followed him up. He got to the top just in time to see Gibbs going upstairs to his bedroom. He thought about following him, but decided against it. He made his way to the downstairs guest room and went to bed. He'd try to talk to his son again in the morning.

She struggled against two sets of hands, pulling her away from him.

"Lee! Help me!"

He struggled to push himself back through the tangled tree roots as his sister screamed.

"I'm coming!" he shrieked.

"Lee! Please!"

Her cries got softer and softer, the farther away the men took her. When he finally pulled himself back to the other side of the tree, she was gone. The only thing he found was her favorite doll, lying in the mud. He picked it up and clutched it tightly.

"Viv! Where are you!"

This time, she did not scream.

"Vivian! Where are you!"

"Vivian!" Gibbs shouted as he snapped up in bed. Sweat poured down his face, and his heart rate was out of control. He tried to get out of bed, but he couldn't summon the strength to push the covers off him. Seconds later, he felt pain shoot up his arm, followed by even more pain in his chest. He fell back onto the bed.

"H-help!" he shouted hoarsely. "Help me!"

His bedroom door opened at that moment, and Ducky rushed into the room. It took Ducky less than ten seconds to figure out that Gibbs was having a heart attack.

"You're going to be all right, Jethro. Breathe for me, in and out... good." Ducky reached for the phone on the nightstand and dialed 911. "This is Dr. Mallard, NCIS medical examiner. I need an ambulance to 5210 Pullman Avenue, I have a man having a heart attack."

"We're sending someone right away, Dr. Mallard. Is the patient responsive?"

"Yes, for now. Hurry, please!" Ducky hung up and turned his eyes back to Gibbs, who was struggling to breathe. "Do you keep Aleve in the house?"

Gibbs pointed shakily toward the door that lead to his master bathroom. Ducky quickly went into the bathroom and retrieved it from the medicine cabinet. He shook a pill into his hand and helped his friend sit up enough to take the pill.

"The ambulance will be here soon, Jethro. Just relax."

"What's happening?"

Ducky looked up to find Jackson standing in the doorway.

"He's having a heart attack. The ambulance is on its way."

Jackson hurried to his son's side. He reached out and clasped Jethro's hand in his.

"You're going to get through this, son. You can beat this."

Gibbs looked into his Father's eyes, and he believed him. He shakily nodded and let his head sink into the pillow. As his eyes drifted closed, the paramedics flooded his bedroom.

Tony ran through the hospital full speed. The last thing he expected when his phone rang in the middle of the night was to be told that Gibbs suffered a heart attack. As he rounded the corner that lead into the cardiac waiting room, he bumped head on into Tim.

"McGee! Did you get in to see him?"

"Not yet. Ducky and Jackson are in with him and the Doctor."

"How in the hell did he have a heart attack?" Tony wondered aloud.

"I don't know, Tony. Would you sit down and stop pacing? You're making me nervous."

"This is what I do when I'm nervous, Probie. I have to keep moving, or I'll go stir crazy!"

"If you don't sit down right now, I'm going to hit you."

"Boys!"

Tim and Tony both turned their heads to find Ducky standing in the middle of the waiting room, arms crossed.

"Are we quite finished bickering?"

They nodded silently.

"How is he, Ducky?" Tim asked calmly.

"He's going to be all right. It was a mild heart attack."

"How did it happen?" Tony asked.

"I'm not sure, but I do know that what he's doing to himself over Vivian's disappearance was a factor."

"He was nine years old when she disappeared. How could he possibly have something to do with it?"

Tim's eyes went wide in realization.

"Tony... the Donaldson case...we found Lillian Donaldson's body twenty years after she disappeared."

"How could we be so stupid?" Tony said in frustration. "Gibbs was in full bastard mode after we closed that case. We could barely ask him a question without him losing it."

"Neither of you thought it was necessary to let me know about that?"

"We didn't think it was anything to worry about," Tim said. "He usually goes home and does whatever he does, and he's fine the next morning."

"He is obviously not fine, Timothy," Ducky said angrily.

"Even if we'd come to you, there's no way we could have stopped any of this," Tony pointed out.

"You're right Tony," Ducky conceded. "I'm sorry for getting angry. It doesn't matter what any of us did or did not do. What matters right now is helping Jethro get over his sister's death, and helping him move on with his life again."

Tim and Tony nodded in agreement.

"Can we go in and see him now?" Tim asked.

"He's asleep for now. You can pop in for a few moments, but don't wake him."

Tim nodded and headed toward Gibbs' hospital room.

Gibbs was asleep when Tim stepped into the room. Jackson was seated in a comfortable-looking chair next to his son's bed.

"You didn't have to come down, Tim," Jackson said quietly.

"Of course I did... he's family."

Tim looked on at Gibbs. He slept soundly as the heart monitor attached to him beeped faithfully.

"I think it's time to call Dr. Cranston."

"Who's that?" Jackson asked.

"She's a psychologist," Tim said, sitting in a plastic chair next to Jackson. "She's been there when we've needed her the most, and helped us through some really tough times. If anyone can get through to him, it's Rachel."

Jackson nodded.

"We took him to a psychologist after Vivian disappeared. It took six months for him to get past what happened that day. I just want him to be happy."

"I'll call Dr. Cranston and explain what's going on."

"Okay." Jackson reached over and squeezed Tim's shoulder. "Thank you for being there for Leroy. You, and Tony, and Ducky, you all are the best friends he's ever had."

"He's never abandoned us when we needed help... we're not about to abandon him."

Jackson nodded, and the room fell into a companionable silence.

TBC...