Leroy Jethro Gibbs, a man who had crossed the golden border of 50, was way past trying to find happiness. After the deaths of his wife and daughter, he had tried it many times; three marriages, all ending with an ugly divorce, and way more other attempts at starting relationships than he dared to count. So while he still did see some woman now or then—redheads of course—he had given up trying anything serious, which was the number one reason why his relationships failed in these days; women wanting more than he could or was willing to give.
Losing the love of his life, and his baby girl, was still something he could not truly live with. In order to survive, he had become numb, while keeping the outward appearance of temperamental moodiness that drove most people away. Grumpy and scary, some said. He had come to terms with the reality that this was his life. It was what it was, and he was now married to his job at the NCIS. He didn't ask for anything else, because what was lost would never be returned. So when he one day decided to finally go through all the boxes that contained everything that was Shannon and Kelly's, he hadn't been prepared for what he would find.
Mad at his friends for making him do this, Gibbs scowled at the mountain of boxes in their bedroom, and more in Kelly's. He had only a very faint memory of throwing everything in the boxes without a second glance. In all honesty, back then, he'd been too drunk to even remember why he had decided to do that in the first place. It wasn't like he had been going to take them anywhere.
"I'll show them," he muttered as he took one of the boxes and sat down on the floor with it. "Can't let go of the past... What do they know?" Okay, so perhaps he had first spent some time with his bottle of bourbon, before finally coming up here. Just a few mouthfuls for courage. Now, looking at the photo album in his hands, he suddenly realized how dry his mouth was again.
Two hours later it was 3 AM and by then he had gone through half of the boxes in the room, and his bottle of bourbon. Opening another box, he took a sip from the bottle, only to realize it was empty. Grumbling, he stood up to go and find more, when his eyes saw something he had seen Shannon hiding from him countless times. Her diary. In his drunken condition, he didn't think it might be rude to read a woman's diary. Dead wife or not. Picking up the small baby-blue book, he sat back down. Trying to imagine her fingers running over the covers, he mimicked the movements. When he opened it, he froze.
It was a diary indeed; a baby diary. Measurements. Weight... He let out a sob as his fingers traced the tiny hand and footprints and the small photograph of a sleeping baby. He had missed so many important moments of Kelly's life, and now he regretted it more than anything... At the back of his drunken mind, he wondered why Shannon had kept a second diary and why was it blue; Kelly was a girl, so it should be pretty pink, like the colors in her bedroom.
It would seem that his friends were right after all; he was definitely not over the loss.
Gibbs blinked several times, trying to get back his focus. It was hard enough when he wasn't drunk and emotionally distraught, but now not only was the small text all blurry, it was dancing on the pages.
"Anthony Jethro Gibbs," he finally read out loud. Gibbs felt his heart rate go up as he started to actually look at the pages in the book. Suddenly nothing added up and only then he realized... It wasn't Kelly's. "Oh, Shannon..." Gibbs swallowed hard, scared by what this could mean. Had she cheated on him while he'd been away? God, no...
In deep agony, added to the one already there, Gibbs threw the book at the wall. He wished he had never listened to his friends. It would have been better if he had never found out... Then it hit him; the baby's name. Crawling to the book, Gibbs picked it up and sat with his back against the wall. Could it be? Maybe? But surely Shannon would have told him... "Please, Shannon. Give me something. I need to know."
Be it a sign or just his drunken clumsiness, but Gibbs dropped the book again and this time he saw the envelope, sealed and having been carefully hidden in between the pages. It was addressed to him. Suddenly afraid to open it, he just held it in his hands. He could get rid of both this and the diary. If he was lucky, he would not remember anything by the morning... Shaking his head, Gibbs opened the envelope and carefully pulled out the letter. He knew he would most likely have to read it again once he was sober, but for now this desperate squinting of his eyes would have to do.
...
'My dearest Jethro.
Something must have happened to me, since I wasn't there protecting my little treasure.
I know you have seen me looking at this so many times, but you have no idea just how many.
Next to you and Kelly, this is my biggest treasure. It's the only thing I have left of our son.
Yes. You read it right. Our son. I'm sorry for never telling you. It was wrong, but I couldn't do it.
Do you remember when you came home, before we got married?
Instead of finding out what my little surprise was, you had to deal with my emotional breakdown.
You thought it was because I had missed you, and I did.
While you were gone, I found out I was pregnant and then everything went wrong.
Mother wouldn't help me, no, she wanted to get rid of the baby. I had no money. No friends.
I didn't want to worry you when there was nothing you could have done from where you were.
I was five months pregnant when I was with no way out of the situation. Then I met him.
Oh God, forgive me... I was so stupid, Jethro. He seemed like such a nice man. And rich.
His wife was pregnant too and he offered me money for keeping her company.
It seemed simple enough and he was like a Good Samaritan. If only I had known the truth...
I even named our son after him, in his 'honor', the man who saved us when no one else would.
Then little Anthony was born. Our precious little boy. I can still feel him in my arms sometimes.
I swear, Jethro, you'd think he's wiser than his years, or months. Such an intelligent little guy.
When he smiles, you can't help but fall in love with him all over again. It lights up the whole room.
Three months, Jethro. That's how much time I had with him. I think it was so that I could nurse him.
Then one day, he walks into my apartment like he owns it. I find out his wife was never pregnant.
Not that he straight-out said anything, but by then I had stopped being stupid. But it was too late.
He had two men with him and they held me while he walked to the crib like it was his right.
No matter what I did, I couldn't find our boy. No one helped me. The police must've been bought.
I never used the money I was given. I couldn't. Not after I found out it was to buy our child.
I opened an account for the money with our boy's name. The information is on the other side of this letter.
Do with it whatever you think is right. I couldn't touch it, even when we needed money; I'm sorry.
I never told you, Jethro, because I've been too ashamed and hurt. It's wrong, but I just couldn't.
All I can hope is that our boy was given a happy life. It's the only way I can keep going, by believing it.
I hope that one day you will find it in you to forgive me and what I let happen. You and Kelly both.
She never knew she has an older brother somewhere. She always wanted a brother or a sister.
I still can't believe God allowed me to have another child, after I failed our first. It's more than I deserve.
Sometimes I dream about our family. Whole family, happy together. It's how our life should have been.
Whatever you are now thinking, Jethro, I'll always love you and our children. And I am so sorry.
—Shannon'
...
...
The next morning came painfully fast for Gibbs. He had finally passed out on the floor, after reading through the letter and diary over and over again, studying it as much as his barely conscious mind had allowed, and then he'd been drinking some more. With a grunt, Gibbs tried to ignore the sounds of the front door opening, the heavy steps climbing up the stairs and then coming into the room.
"Jethro... Look at you... You did not have to do this on your own. One of us would have been more than happy to keep you company, be the supporting shoulder. It's not a weakness to ask for help."
"Go away, Ducky," Gibbs muttered through clenched teeth. He kept his eyes firmly closed and tried to ignore both Ducky and the headache.
Ducky tutted. "It would seem, my dear friend, that you are in need of a hangover remedy."
"'m fine, Duck. Just leave."
"Either it's me or I will have to allow Abigail in. She spent the night in her car, outside your house. Did you know that? One word from me, and she will come in."
The thought of the very loud and hyper goth with her need to hug him, made Gibbs sit up fast. Or as fast as he could with his head killing him.
Shaking his head, Ducky sighed. "Go take a shower. I will make you some coffee and hangover friendly breakfast."
"Not hungry."
"I was not asking."
Grumbling something about friends who didn't know when to leave him be, Gibbs slowly stood up. Suddenly, he remembered everything he had discovered last night. He looked at Ducky with an anxious smile.
"What is it?"
With a soft voice and a smile that was foreign on his face, Gibbs said, "I have a son."