Saying Goodbye

By SherryGabs

Rated: PG

Summary: Gibbs returns to Stillwater for his dad's funeral.

Here's the final chapter. Thanks so much for the reviews, follows and favorites. I appreciate it.

Chapter 3

When Gibbs had calmed down and knew his voice wouldn't give away what he was feeling, he called McGee to give him the funeral information and to make sure he knew to pick up L.J. He also instructed Tony to go to his house and drive his pickup to Stillwater to carry stuff back in.

The next two phone calls were to realtors to set up times later in the day for them to inspect the store and house and give offers if they were interested in buying them.

Now he sat on the back porch swing, eyes closed, letting the quietness and clean air soak in. He felt like he could sleep another eight hours.

But it was not to be. He still had to take the suit to the funeral home, make sure they were up to speed on their end and come back here and start going through things while waiting on the realtors.

While debating on whether or not to get up now, or wait another ten minutes, he heard the screen door open and someone sit down beside him. The smell of coffee brought his eyes open to find a steaming mug in front of his face.

"Thanks."

Ducky nodded as the mug was taken from him. "How are you holding up, Jethro?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Was doing fine, till I called L.J."

"I didn't get a chance to meet him when you'd found him about his Congressional Medal of Honor. Tell me about him."

Gibbs took a drink of his coffee and wondered where to begin. "He was my dad's best friend, they owned the store together. He was like an uncle to me and I loved him for that. I joined the Marines because of him." Gibbs stopped and stared down into his mug, wondering if he should tell Ducky the rest.

The doctor looked at him and could see the turmoil. He laid his hand on Gibbs' arm. "There's more, isn't there?"

Gibbs looked at him and nodded. After another moment, he sighed deeply. "Dad, Mom and L.J. all went to school together. When I last saw L.J. he told me that he was in love with my mom, as much as Dad was at the time. But back then, a black man with a white woman just meant a lot of trouble. It was dangerous. So, even though the three of them knew how the others felt, they never talked about it; just ignored it. Mom and Dad married and life went on."

Here Gibbs paused again and Ducky had to wait him out.

"I told you my mom had cancer and died. But it wasn't the cancer that killed her. She didn't want to waste away in front of us. She didn't want us to have to take care of her. She was in a lot of pain and was tired of fighting." Gibbs slowly took another sip. "She overdosed on pills. She told L.J. she was going to do it and he didn't do anything to stop her. He didn't tell Dad he knew she was going to do it. He understood why she wanted to take that way out and he kept his mouth shut.

"When Dad found out, they had a huge falling out. L.J. sold his part of the store to Dad and left town. I didn't see him again until I found his Medal of Honor at that pawn shop."

"Dear Lord, Jethro. I'm so sorry!" Ducky had no idea of what to say to comfort the younger man.

"I knew she'd killed herself back then. Dad didn't think I knew, but I did. The evidence was there. I understood why too, and I never blamed her for it. Might have done the same thing." Gibbs did know what enough pain could drive a person to do. He'd almost succumbed to pain and anguish himself many years before on that beach; but with a single bullet instead of pills.

Ducky frowned at the words. The thought of losing his friend to his own hand disturbed him greatly. As a forensic psychologist, he knew what profound depression, grief, guilt and pain could do to a person. He'd seen it in Jethro numerous times over the years and often wondered how he coped without professional help. As a friend, he would not let Jethro wallow in it now.

"I don't think so, Jethro. I think you're more the type that would fight tooth and nail, kicking butts and smacking heads until the end." He sighed. "Your mother thought she was doing the best thing for everyone, and if you accept that as it is, that's fine. She didn't have the medical treatments or resources that are available now. If she had, things might have been different."

Gibbs looked down into his cup, gently swirling the black brew. He wished he would have had someone to talk to with Ducky's sense of wisdom back when he was fourteen. He might not have been so confused and angry. He smiled weakly thinking maybe the doctor was right about him fighting like a bull until the end, but he would want to do it in solitude. He would rather people remember him as strong and formidable. Not that anyone would let him. Time and the right friendships had been a balm to the wounded soul that had been him when his family was killed. He still felt guilt, anger and a sense of responsibility towards people who couldn't fight for themselves; but it had gotten easier to deal with. The people that cared about him—his family at NCIS—wouldn't give up on him. They wouldn't let him give up on himself either.

"It's still a shame, though, how much your lives were changed by her death. Yours, Jackson's and L.J.'s. Have you ever wondered how different your life would have been if she'd lived?" Ducky could almost hear Jethro say 'What's the point in wondering about would-have-beens? It changes nothing.'

But Gibbs surprised him.

"She would have loved being a grandma."

It was said quietly. Ducky looked over and saw the blue eyes that were misting over again.

"She would have spoiled Kelly senseless. Dressed her up in frilly dresses, have tea parties, play with dolls… All the girly stuff she wasn't able to do with me. Being a grandmother would have made her so happy." He sighed then. "But, I still would have joined the Marines, most likely. If her living could have changed any other history, I'll never know."

After a moment, Ducky patted Gibbs' knee. "I'm sorry, Jethro. I didn't mean to add to your grief."

But Gibbs smiled and rubbed a hand over his eyes quickly. "No, you didn't do that. Thinking about Mom playing like a little girl is actually kind of nice."

Ducky chuckled at a memory. "My mother was 90 years old and having tea parties with her Corgis."

Gibbs shook his head and then laughed. "Well, your mother was a very unique lady."

"Who thought you were quite charming." He cocked his head. "Even if she thought your name was Matthew."

Leave it to Ducky to bring Gibbs out of another slump. He appreciated what Ducky was doing for him. More than he could ever say.

"Duck, thanks again. I don't know what I'd do with myself if you hadn't come here with me."

"My pleasure, my dear boy." Ducky thought back on his own mother's death. "I should have asked for your support when my mother died, but I felt I had to do it alone. That was a mistake. I don't want you to go through the same thing. Our circumstances are far different, but it certainly makes things easier when we have the help of a friend to help shoulder the emotions and make the decisions that have to be made."

Gibbs had to agree. "Yeah, it really does." As strong as a man Gibbs is, even he was not a mountain. He was sure he would have fallen apart if Ducky hadn't been by his side.

Gibbs looked at his watch and grimaced. "I still need to get Dad's suit to the funeral home and get back here before the realtors arrive." They stood up. Gibbs tossed the remaining coffee over the porch railing.

"Would you like me to go with you, or straighten up the house?" Ducky asked.

Gibbs shrugged. "If they don't like the house the way it is, screw 'em."

That made Ducky laugh. "That's the Agent Gibbs we all know and love."

ooooOOOoooo

The men were satisfied with the funeral arrangements as they had been set. There would be a one-hour viewing before the service in the cemetery chapel, then more words and prayer would be held at the grave site. Gibbs knew he would be expected to say something during the service, and knew he just had to speak from the heart. He was also informed that Jackson's church would be holding a potluck dinner after the funeral. He'd forgotten that was the way it was in small towns. There was always a potluck after a funeral. He didn't particularly want to go. After all, he only knew a few people in Stillwater; but there was no way out of it without appearing completely rude. Of course, that didn't mean he had to stay till the end.

Arriving back at the house, there was some time to kill before the realtors would arrive. Gibbs decided to look around the garage, since he hadn't looked through it yet. His dad's ancient 1950-something pickup took up a majority of the floor space. Jackson had been tinkering with it since his son's bright yellow Charger had been taken out. Gibbs thought it might be nice to have it towed back to his own garage to see if he could get it running.

Just about everything else in the garage was dusty junk left there for storage. The tools were old and he already had plenty of those. His eyes stopped at a cardboard box that sat up on a shelf. He tilted his head and wondered what could be in it. Taking it down, he carefully wiped dust off the faded writing on the box. He could almost make out the word and held his breath as he tore the tape off and opened the top. A smile of wonder spread across his face and a sigh left his lips. Just as he was about to lift the item out, he heard a man clear his throat to get his attention from the garage door.

A young black man stood there. "Mr. Gibbs?"

Gibbs put the box back down. "Yeah."

The young man seemed nervous. "I'm Cal Frasier, Sir. I worked with Jackson at his store. I came to give you my key."

Gibbs approached him and shook his hand before taking the key. He remembered his dad mentioning a young man working for him, and now remembered his name.

"Thanks, Cal. Dad had a lot of good things to say about you."

Cal smiled shyly. "Jackson was a good man." He looked down momentarily and then faced the younger Gibbs again. "He saved my life actually. I was heading down the wrong road of life when he hired me on. He made me realize that I was wasting my life and helped me believe in myself."

Gibbs nodded, believing it. "That sounds like him."

"I'm really going to miss him. I had a lot of respect for him. I was having a real hard time finding a job, but he believed in me."

"Well, he was an excellent judge of character," Gibbs offered, conciliatorily. "His funeral is tomorrow afternoon. I hope you'll be there."

"Wouldn't miss it, Sir," Cal said sadly. He smiled and nodded to Gibbs before walking way. Gibbs stared after his retreating form, wondering what the young man was going to do with his life after this.

Before he could get back to what was in the box, Ducky called to him from the house. Gibbs walked around to the front where he found Ducky standing with a man and a woman, whom he assumed were the realtors.

Introductions proved him right and they all entered the house.

The couple separately inspected the house, garage and store. Neither were very impressed with the house or garage; thinking of the updating that would be needed. The store, however, brightened the dollar signs in their eyes. They both sat at the table in the store, pulled out paperwork and wrote up their bids.

The woman, Ms. Williams, snuck at peak at the other's figures. "That's a tad bit high, don't you think, Rob?" She winked conspiratorially. "Did Winslow give you a price cap?"

Gibbs frowned at his old nemesis's name.

The male realtor, Rob Henson, gave her a dirty look for letting that particular cat out of the bag. "I don't know what you're talking about, Edna. I think it's a fair price." He glanced over at her paperwork. "It's a hell of a lot better than your paltry offer." He also grinned connivingly. "Did your latest divorce leave you broke?"

She gave him the evil eye.

Gibbs looked up towards the heavens, praying for patience.

Both realtors slid their bids to the side of the table where Gibbs could move closer and look them over. Mr. Henson's offer was quite a bit higher than Ms. Williams; but the thought of Chuck Winslow possibly taking over his father's store made him want to take a torch to the place first.

Ms. Williams practically gushed at Gibbs; her overly made-up face and fake blond head deterred his attention as she listed off all the possibilities of what could be done to the properties.

Gibbs felt a headache coming on.

He picked up the offers, folding them in half. "I'll look these both over carefully and let you know soon." His voice held no promise.

Each realtor handed him a business card, offered their sorrow for his loss and headed out the door, bickering at each other under their breaths.

Gibbs tossed the papers and cards onto the table and sighed deeply. "That went well… Not!"

Ducky chuckled and came out from where he was standing quietly behind the counter. "They were quite a pair, I must say."

Gibbs ran his hand down his face in frustration. "I have no intention of letting his store get in Chuck Winslow's hands. And Madam Divorcee wants to fix everything."

Ducky nodded with understanding. "I sympathize with you, Jethro; but once they're sold, you won't really have any say in what happens to the properties."

Gibbs sighed. "I know." Why did he really care what happened once he left this town for good? He would never have to look at the store or house ever again after this weekend. It's just the thought of what his father would have wanted ate at him. Jackson ran his business, and made it a success, by being good and honest to his customers. That was a rare thing in this country during these times, when profit meant everything. If Winslow got his hands on it, he'd most likely turn it into a company store; jack up the prices and good customer service would just fly out the window.

And Gibbs certainly didn't like the idea of all the change Ms. Williams insinuated. Plus, he just didn't like her in general.

"I need to think about it."

The two men spent the rest of the day packing up the items that would be taken back home in his pickup. Gibbs arranged for a flatbed tow truck to carry the ancient pickup from the garage to his home. That would cost a pretty penny, but it would be safer than trying to tow it from back of his own truck. They had a quiet dinner, provided by a neighbor, and easily fell asleep from exhaustion.

ooooOOOoooo

Waking the next morning, it hit Gibbs that this was it. This was the day they would bury his father and he would say his final goodbye. His team, Jimmy, Vance and L.J. would be arriving in a few hours. He had nothing important to take care of until the funeral, so Gibbs just lay there and listened.

The daily morning birds were happily singing outside, the clock in the kitchen could be heard ticking away time. At exactly 7:15, the next-door neighbor to the east slammed his car door and took off. Ten minutes later the neighbor to the west did the same thing. At 7:32, one of the town's three school buses stopped at the intersection two houses away, its brakes screeching to a stop, only to start out again seconds later.

The same sounds, morning after morning; week after week, year after year. The monotony was somehow comforting. Life went on. As would his own life and monotony once he got back to D.C. Gibbs was glad he had his life to go back to. Glad he had a job and people to keep his life alive. How much more excruciating this would be if he were all alone; as he felt he was when his family was taken from him. But he wasn't alone. He had a support group that would never let him down.

He looked upward as he heard one from that group stepping on a weakened floor board upstairs. The sound seemed much louder in the quiet. That squeaky floor board had gotten him in trouble a few times as a teen sneaking in after curfew. He smiled as he remembered getting yelled at and then woken up extra early the next morning to do extra chores for punishment. He could smile now, but back then he thought it was a complete injustice.

As much depression this day could bring, Gibbs felt content. Content in the past he was leaving here, content in the memories he'd be taking with him. One of those memories would be the reaction he'd see to a decision he'd already made. That would come later today.

ooooOOOoooo

The time had arrived. Gibbs and Ducky were at the funeral home for the hour-long viewing before the service. Many people from Stillwater had sent flowers. Director Vance had sent a huge arrangement on behalf of himself and NCIS. Gibbs had a feeling Abby had a hand in the arrangement his team had sent by the ceramic denim jeans and suspenders that was the vase. He and a couple old, close friends of Jackson's stood by his casket greeting people, shaking hands and accepting condolences and hearing more stories. Gibbs thought his dad looked peaceful and content in his own way. He had snuck the last remaining bottle of his grand dad's moonshine into the casket, hidden under the sheet. It just seemed fitting.

He wanted L.J. to stand beside him once he'd arrived. Most of the old timers remembered him and congratulated him on earning the Medal of Honor for his service. It surprised him, since he didn't think anyone actually cared. Gibbs gave him a wink, seeming to know what he was thinking. L.J. smiled and pressed on the area of his chest where the medal lay under his shirt.

When Tony approached the casket, he pulled a DVD from his suit jacket pocket. "I remember how this movie made you laugh. I thought you might want to watch it again sometime up there." He sniffled as he laid the copy of "Grumpy Old Men" next to Jackson's hand. "Thanks for the sweater."

Ellie looked down at the older Gibbs and sadly smiled, thinking of how much he reminded her of her grandpa. Abby kissed her fingers and touched Jackson's cheek. "You gave the greatest hugs. I'm gonna miss you." Together, they both hugged the younger Gibbs, giving him a warmth he hadn't felt in quite a while.

Eventually, everyone paid their respects and took seats for the eulogy. Everyone from NCIS sat together along a row of chairs. Ms. Hannigan managed to get a seat right next to Ducky, who looked slightly uncomfortable.

The minister began the service, talking of Jackson's life in Stillwater and his impact on the community. There were sniffles, many tears; even laughter as he reviewed the man's life. When it was time for Gibbs to give his own personal eulogy to his father, he took his place behind the small podium.

"My dad was a hard man to figure out. At least to me," he shrugged. "What I used to see in my youthful eyes was a contradiction to who he really was. It took an old friend to make me see that Dad sacrificed a lot to raise me alone." Gibbs gave Ducky a look of appreciation. "He put aside his own happiness to keep my life on an even keel. I just wish I would have seen that all those years ago. But, being a Gibbs, bull-headedness runs in the family." Several chuckles accompanied the statement. "It was his stubborn pride that made him such a good neighbor to everyone. He believed in fairness and compassion. He had a strong work ethic that he hoped would rub off on others. He had the love of a good woman whose love was boundless." He gave L.J. a meaningful look. "He touched the lives of so many people over so many years. When people met Jackson Gibbs, they remembered him. So let's not forget the type of person he was, and strive to be that type of person ourselves."

The corner of Gibbs mouth lifted in a slight grin. "And this would be the part where he would tell me 'Enough talk, just get on with it'."

Gibbs took a seat and stared at his father's face as the funeral director finished the service and instructed people on how to proceed to the cemetery.

The funeral home personnel gave him a moment alone before they would close the casket. Gibbs waited until he was the last one left in the room. He took his father's hand and, with his other hand, gently rubbed the older man's hair. "You've had a hell of a run, Dad. Give Mom a hug for me." Standing back upright, he gave his father a last look. "I'm glad you're back with your Chickadee."

The gravesite service was quite serene. Gibbs ran through flashes of his childhood with both his parents. He didn't dwell on the negative, but focused on things that made him feel a placid contentment with how his father's life had impacted him. This is how his dad would have wanted him to feel; not sad and gloomy. When the American flag was folded and placed in his arms, he hugged it to his chest and thought of how proud he was of his dad.

After the service concluded and people were heading back to their cars to go to the church supper, Gibbs took the flower from his lapel and placed it atop his mother's headstone. "Keep him in line, Mom."

ooooOOOoooo

The potluck supper lasted a few hours. Abby waited on Gibbs, hand and foot. Ellie did the same for Ducky, no matter how much he wanted to get away from Ms. Florence Hannigan. They all were getting a kick out of his predicament. The post-funeral get-together may have started out fairly somber, but before long it turned into more of a celebration of Jackson Gibbs. People shared laughter and memories; tears now being happy instead of sad.

Cal Frasier came up to Gibbs to say his farewells, after waiting for many others to do the same. Gibbs pulled him aside for a personal talk.

"Cal, what are your plans for the near future?" Gibbs asked, hoping his plan worked out.

Cal frowned. "Nothing really. There's not many jobs for the taking in Stillwater. I may have to move to a bigger city."

"Would you prefer to stay in Stillwater? Did you like working at the store?"

Cal wasn't sure where this was heading, but he nodded his head. "I sure did. Jackson taught me the business. Most importantly, he taught me how to respect the customer. I really love being a part of this town."

Gibbs smiled in satisfaction. He reached into his pocket and took out a key ring with several keys attached.

"The store and the house." He took Cal's hand and dropped the keys into it. "They're yours."

Cal's eyes widened in astonishment. "Wh-What?!"

Gibbs placed his hand on Cal's shoulder. "I don't want them myself and I don't want to go through the hassle of selling them. But I do want the store to go to someone who will keep up the ethics and fairness that Jackson has built up. I think you're the man to do that."

Cal shook his head and looked down at the keys. "But I just can't—"

"Yeah, you can," Gibbs assured him. "I have every faith in you, just as Dad did."

"Thank you." Cal's eyes misted over. "I don't know what else to say."

"Believe me, you're doing me a huge favor," Gibbs told him, silently glad he wouldn't have to deal with those two realtors. With a chagrined smile, he added, "And if I'd realized transfer of the place was gonna happen so soon, I wouldn't have gotten rid of all the perishables already."

Cal chuckled. "Not a problem." He squeezed the keys in his palm. "You don't know how much this means to me."

Gibbs squeezed Cal's shoulder. "I'll have Dad's lawyer take care of the deeds, the store's bank account and what other paperwork that needs turned over to your name. It may take several days. I'll be out of the house probably tomorrow afternoon. I'm leaving all the furniture and such. You can do whatever you please with what you don't want."

Cal nodded, his appreciation obvious. "I won't let you, or Jackson, down."

Gibbs had a feeling Cal would make a great storekeeper. His gut told him so.

ooooOOOoooo

It was agreed the NCIS crew would spend the night camped out in Jackson's house, with the exception of the Director who needed to return to his children. They spent Saturday morning loading up Gibbs pickup and getting rid of obvious trash, so Cal wouldn't have to deal with it. L.J. spent some time catching up with old friends and looking through photo albums, relishing the pictures of Anne. Gibbs made sure a couple of them made their way into L.J.'s coat pocket.

Alone again, Gibbs and Ducky now stood outside the house, ready to drive back to Washington. He took a final look at the house. "I might just miss this place. At least for a while."

Ducky smiled. "I still remember my childhood home, with great fondness."

"I couldn't have handled all this without your help and advice, Duck." Gibbs put his arm around the doctor's shoulder. "Thanks."

"My pleasure, dear boy. That's what friends are for."

ooooOOOoooo

Gibbs poured himself a large shot of bourbon, sipping a bit before sitting the glass down. He opened the cardboard box once again, almost grinning like a kid as he lifted out the small boat and tossed the box aside. He studied it, thinking back to when he helped his dad put it together. The joy on his mother's face when it was presented to her, her smile when she read 'Chickadee' on its stern. His dad's nickname for her.

Like a kid with a new toy, Gibbs sat the boat down on his workbench and slid the rubber band off a roll of blueprint paper. With great anticipation he began drawing out his next basement project.

THE END