Dr. Magnus: Donald, sometimes I can't remember who I was.
Gibbs had barely begun his measurements when he heard familiar footsteps donning his basement stair case. He looked up from his work and took in the sight of his friend before preparing both of them a drink.
"New boat?"
Gibbs handed him the make shift glass and shrugged. "Never to late to start again."
"Not for everyone."
His friend waited for him to continue.
"Just spent hours reminding him of who he was. We wept, laughed and carried on. It will always be a moment we will both treasure." He was still a bit wistful. "Scary thought, that some day Timothy may be putting a similar rendition together for me."
"Not there yet Duck."
"Not yet, I'm afraid. But after seeing Mother…" he stopped himself and took a sip of his drink, his voice a bit broken as he continued. "Memories are all we have Jethro…it's daunting to think they will escape us."
Gibbs chest constricted a bit at the thought, the image of his little girl still fresh in his mind. "Memories aren't all we have."
"How's that?"
"Hey, you're the one who quotes philosophic, not me."
The ME managed a small smile. "You are more insightful than you give yourself credit for Jethro."
"Yeah." He took hold of the pencil in his hand and began to sketch lightly on the wood.
"I suppose the past shaped us into the men we are…and who we will yet become."
"There, see, when you say it, it sounds so much better." Gibbs sent him a soft smile. "Welcome to stay as long as you like Duck."
"I'd like that."
And so he did. Watching his friend begin to toil away at something his mind was still sharp enough to create.
A masterpiece in his own eyes.
A part of his past, he was certain would make it to his future.