American Heavy Metal

by Yanagi-wa

Gibbs and Co have to take leave time or lose it. They decide to take a road trip on motorcycles. They visit Gibbs Dad and go camping and fishing.

3. Chapter 3

American Heavy Metal.03

. Chapter Three .

Jackson Gibbs looked up from his magazine when he heard the rumble. He sighed. Motorcycles meant either a bunch of ignorant thugs or a group of men out to enjoy themselves. Either one could be trouble, or not.

He was a bit unhappy to see the whole gang park in front of his store and dismount. He had to chuckle when he noticed that the driver of the trike had parked with the trailer sticking out in the street. Then a familiar figure ambled over, unhitched the trailer and, with help from a man twice his size, walked it into its own parking space.

"Leroy! What the heck?"

Gibbs grinned at his father and spent the next few minutes explaining the situation to him.

Jackson grunted, then demanded, "So you've got so much leave built up that it's a matter of use-it-or-lose-it?" Gibbs nodded. "Sounds just like you. So ... introduce me to the mob." He eyed the men surrounding him and said, "Tim and Tony I recognize, but the rest of these young fellows?"

Gibbs made introductions, telling his father which men lived with him and which didn't. He finished with, "Jimmy lives with Ducky and Tim and Tony are moving the second we find them a place." He glowered Tony into silence then asked, "Can you close for a day or two?"

Jackson shook his head. "No, too many people depend on me. The Mini-Mart closed last month so I'm the only grocery in town. Save-U-More by the highway is far enough out that it's inconvenient. Safeway in the next town over is next nearest. I'll call Mrs. Owens to come in. She likes a few hours a month, just for extra money." He leaned in, sharing secrets. "I really think she just likes the opportunity to be around people and catch up on the latest;" he winked. "I'll give her a jingle."

He made his call and was told that she'd be there in ten minutes. He walked out of the back office just in time to hear, "You mean you've never even touched the Winchester? That's just mean."

Gibbs' voice returned, "Nope, never touched it. But ... doesn't matter anymore. I'm over it."

Jackson Gibbs was a smart man and he heard the faint longing in his son's voice. The boy he had been was much too reckless to handle a gun, any gun. The man he was now deserved to handle the Winchester. He walked behind the counter and took the rifle off the wall. No one but he had handled the rifle since he'd bought the old .44-.40 when he was just a kid. Now, he proudly handed it to his son. "Maybe it's time you got to shoot it. We'll all go out to the VFW range tomorrow. How's that sound?"

Gibbs' smile told it all. "Sounds like a plan, Dad."

Jackson handed the Winchester to Gibbs. "Here. Check it out while I count the register. Only take a sec." He eyed Tony. "And you ... find something to fix for that plague of grasshoppers." He smiled at the group. "Timothy, go down to the Flour Sack and get a couple of loaves of some sort of bread that you'll all eat."

Tony yelled after Tim. "It's gonna be soup or stew."

Tim nodded. "Okay. Rustic loaves then."

Gibbs said, "I vote for soup."

An echo of, "Yeah, soup," from everyone else settled the question.

Tony got a three-pound bag of mixed carrots, peas, and corn, a bag of green beans, some onions, and some potatoes. "Jackson? You got beef stock on hand?"

Jackson went to show him where it was. He eyed the bags of frozen veggies and said, "That's a lot of greenery there."

"You haven't seen us eat. I'm making at least a gallon and hoping it's enough." Tony laughed at the expression on Jackson's face. "Yeah, we eat a lot."

Jackson allowed that he was sure they did. He pointed out the beef stock. Tony got six quarts. Jackson added a box of pearled barley to the pile and led Tony to the register. He dumped all the groceries on the counter and reached for his wallet. Jackson shook his head. "On me. You're my guests." He wrote the prices in a book and bagged everything.

Then they began the process of getting their jackets, helmets, and other gear back on for the trip to the Gibbs house. Jackson suggested Leroy ride with him in his car but Gibbs said, "Sorry, Dad, no can do. There's no one who can bring my motor." Jackson's significant glance at Tim made him admit, "He's just a passenger ... until we get him trained."

Jackson just shrugged and went to his car. Dean and Remy had already taken the groceries to the back seat. "Thanks, boys. I got it from here." Jackson got into his car and started it. The sound of the engine was drowned out by the rumble of the V-Twin Harley engines as they started, one by one. He shook his head fondly, remembering the week-long sulk that had resulted from his refusing Leroy permission to buy a dirt bike.

He waited until the motors all moved out, knowing the proper protocol of four wheels, eyes behind. He pulled out right behind the trike and followed the group to his house. He barely got his car parked before it was swarmed by men. Dean helped him out, Cosmo started handing off bags to Remy and Tony. Leroy, Tim, and Jimmy started getting luggage out of saddlebags.

He watched in amazement as he hadn't seen anything like it since his Air Force days. The group formed a bucket brigade and passed things from hand to hand, stacking luggage on the porch and grocery bags inside the front door.

Tony smiled at Jackson, he was still wearing the white sweater the older man had given him several years ago. In fact, it was one of his most prized possessions. "Hey, Jack, where are we all going to sleep? I need to make billet assignments."

Jackson eyed Tony for a moment then said, "There's a story here an' I wanna hear it. For now, I've got four bedrooms, aside from mine. One is Leroy's, that's the one with the full/twin combo, the other three are up for grabs. There's one with a king, the other two have twins. The couch in the back room makes up into a full size. Have at it."

The assignments weren't that hard; Gibbs got his old room, Tim and Jimmy shared one room, Cosmo and Dean the other. Tony got the room with the king and Remy took the back room with the fold-out. Jackson laughed when Remy realized that the couch was a full-size. The expression of bliss on his face was comical, until you realized that he was comparing the thing to a rack in Afghanistan.

His comment, "I really, truly hate hot-racking," made Jackson grimace.

"I know what you mean. I really hated trying to sleep in the bomb bay."

Gibbs chuckled. "Try sleeping under a troop carrier with snoring men inside."

Remy nodded. "True dat. Worst for me was a C130 with a bunch of civilian kids aboard. All they did was cry, run around, or scream."

Cosmo nodded. "I remember that. It was literally hell. Tony'd been captured; we had no idea where he was being held, so we were ordered back Stateside. Dean was in the brig for trying to punch some REMF, so it was just Remy and me. I was sick most of the way. No idea why, really. And there was poor Remy, nursing me, dodging kids and moms and some bean-counter second looey. No idea to this day what the hell he wanted. He just kept popping up and asking stupid questions."

Tony blinked. "Never heard this one. How'd you get rid of 'im?"

Remy looked smug and inordinately pleased. "Cosmo puked on him."

Jackson roared at that, laughing heartily. "Boy, that's one way to deal with it."

They visited a bit more then Gibbs said, "We better get to cookin'. I'm starved."

Remy just got up and asked, "Where's the biggest pot?"

Jackson pointed to the pantry. "In there, top shelf. And the spices are in there too. Flour, if you need that."

Remy returned with the pot and several bottles of spices. "Here we go. Who's on potato patrol?"

Tim held up his hand. "But not onions." There was some laughter at that. The last time Tim had done onions, his eyes had watered so badly that he'd had to stop to wipe them. The others had all given him a hard time, telling him real men do cry and Dean had wrapped his arms around him and pretended to weep on his shoulder. Tim had smacked him and they'd gotten into a wrestling match that had seen them standing in corners―Gibbs' usual punishment for acting like six-year-olds.

Remy agreed, "No, not onions. We don't need you in a corner." This led to Jackson demanding to know what they were talking about.

Gibbs told the whole story while he emptied the stock into the pot.

Jackson laughed until tears streamed down his cheeks. "You boys take the cake." He eyed the group. "SEALs, ya say?" Nods greeted this question. "Well, I'll be."

Dean settled at the table, onions and knife in hand. Tim got a seat as well.

While they were peeling and chopping, Remy made roux, while Gibbs stirred the stockpot to keep it from scorching. Cosmo opened all the bagged frozen stuff and dumped it into the pot. As the potatoes and onions were done, they were added as well.

Remy tasted the stock and added salt, pepper, and herbs. He nodded, then let Tony, then Gibbs taste. They agreed that it was good. "I'll add roux when it's almost done. No sense in addin' it yet, it'll get too thick. Tim?"

Tim looked up from where he was wiping the table down. "Yeah?"

"Bread?"

Jimmy replied to that. "I put it in the oven while you all were doing soup. It should be done when the soup is. They were half-baked loaves, so it's going to be every bit of half an hour."

Remy opened the oven to take a look at the bread. "An' how, may I ask, did you get that in there without me noticing?"

Jimmy smirked, "You were washing your hands, and I just popped them in a cold oven."

"Did ya butter 'em?"

Jimmy shrugged. "No. I like the crust crunchy. If you butter the loaf, it gets tough."

They all agreed that crunchy was the way to go.

Remy eyed the oven. "Well, if you like crunch, you'd better spray them with some water."

Jimmy nodded then went to get a bowl of water. He flicked finger tips of water into the oven until it steamed then shut the door.

Gibbs had been tinkering with the old coffee-maker while Jimmy was correcting the bread situation. "Coffee in a few."

They then settled around the table for another round of tall tales and local gossip while they waited for the soup and bread to be ready.

Gibbs got up from time to time to stir the soup, check the bread, and make coffee. He was doing that when someone said something about some ChAir Force POG which drew his attention.

Jackson didn't bother to take offense. He just replied, "Now see here, you young snot," he smiled to take the sting out of that. "Just because the pilot overshot, doesn't mean it was his fault. Who was spotter? Some ground pounder, I'll bet. I heard it said, garbage in, garbage out. Got something to do with computers, but works for just about anything."

Remy allowed, "True, that. But still."

Dean snorted. "You know the spotter was Army. Dumb boots."

Cosmo agreed. "True. Navy and Air Force have more in common than Army and anyone. After all, ARMY stands for Air Force Rejected Me Yesterday."

Gibbs shuddered. "Only real TARFUN I was involved in ... true Charley Foxtrot. Army carried us in, dropped us, and left. We were over 10 klicks from where we were supposed to be, so we had to hike over, do ... what we were sent to do, and hike to pickup. The Air Force chopper jockey stayed way past orders to wait for us. We got there just as he was warming up to leave. He missed a court-martial by a hair's breadth because we all gave him a commendation for above and beyond. Hell of a thing." He shook his head in remembrance. "I think he's some sort of bigwig now."

Tony shrugged. "And where would we be without Naval Air Support? Really. There's nothing like expressing your dissatisfaction with someone with a nice strafing run."

Jackson agreed, saying, "In my day we'd just drop a couple of tons of HE on them."

Tim sighed. "Don't have much to do with the Army, except for CID. They can't all be stupid; we just wind up dealing with the worst of 'em. Right?"

They all agreed that not all of any service could be idiots; it just seemed that they'd dealt with more than their fair share due to one thing and another. There was a bit of grumbling over one imagined offense or another.

Jimmy changed the subject, easily directing the conversation into happier subjects. "I was wondering ... are we going to have enough ammo for the Winchester?"

Jackson thought about that. "I've got about 200 rounds, so ... probably not. You check on that soup and bread while I make a quick call. Max will open his store early, if I ask."

They could hear bits of the conversation. Jackson sounded proud when he'd said, "Friends of Leroy ... goin' shootin', then fishin'. ... Thanks, bye."

By the time Jackson was off the phone the soup was ready and the bread sliced and wrapped in warmed towels.

They settled to eat and Jackson told them, "Well, Max said to stop by about 7 a.m. You boys bring poles an' such?"

Gibbs made a rude noise. "That bunch? Doubt it."

Tony just snickered. "I'll just tickle 'em."

Remy shook his head. "Illegal here. Gotta use a pole. Which we did not bring."

Jackson blinked. "Tickle a fish? You mean hand fishin'? That is illegal around here."

Tony sighed. "Well, ruin all my fun." He grinned.

They finished their meal and cleaned up. Jackson said he'd do it and was flatly told that they were family, not guests, and would clean up after themselves. He gave up with a chuckle announcing, "Well, looks like I've inherited more family. Thanks, boys."

Gibbs laughed. "Welcome to the asylum, Dad. Come on, living room for us. I'm not gettin' in the way of SEALs on a mission. Not a good idea."

Jackson settled in his favorite chair and demanded. "Now, tell me why the hell you're takin' vacation. I wasn't sure I understood. You have to take vacation, or lose the days? They won't pay you for them?"

"That's about it. Vance seems to think we're too stressed, that and the budget won't handle the four of us getting paid for around 147 days of leave at our pay scale if we're still actually working too. And Tony ... I don't even want to think about him. He's collecting from the Navy as well as NCIS and he's on use-it-or-lose-it with both. So we're takin' a road trip." He thought for a moment. "Actually, I think it is a good idea. I need to reconnect with both Tony and Tim. Ziva ... she drove a wedge between us, without me even noticing. She's ... out of the picture, permanently. PTSD of the ragin' sort."

Jackson sighed. "That's too bad. I liked her. Maybe I should write? Or call?"

Gibbs considered that for a moment. "Might; send it care of her shrink. I'll get you the address in the morning." He eyed his watch. "Damn, didn't realize it was that late. It's nearly 2100."

Tony ambled in. "I'm gonna stay up a while. If I go to bed now, I'll be up at 0300. But I checked the fridge. There's not enough food for us. Jackson? There a market open this late?"

Jackson thought for a second. "If you don't mind driving, I'll give you directions to a 24/7 market. It's out a ways, near the highway. Take my car; that bike won't do." he pointed to the small table by the front door. "Keys are in the bowl."

Tony listened to the directions then went off to get enough food for the team for breakfast. He yelled over his shoulder. "Jet, ya think four dozen eggs?"

Gibbs yelled back. "Make it five, just in case."

Everyone else wandered through on their way to bed. Except Remy, who disappeared into the back room; the thumping and banging as he set up the pull-out told its own story.

.

Tony drove to the market. It wasn't that hard to find; just follow Main Street in the general direction of the highway, then look for the tall Save-U-More sign.

The market was generic Wal-mart or Safeway style, and clean. Tony was impressed. Most markets in this area were either Mom and Pop, like Jackson's, or Mini-mart type places; many of them filthy, as the teenagers that ran them seemed incapable of running a mop.

He wandered up and down the aisles, picking up such things as more potatoes and coffee, some onions, bacon and sausage and eggs. He considered pancake mix, but decided against it, as Jackson had all the ingredients for scratch.

He emptied his buggy onto the conveyor belt, then smiled at the older lady who was at the register.

She eyed the pile of food then him. "Hope you have a friend or two, that's a lot of food."

He smiled back, flirted just a bit and replied, "I do. my team and I are staying with Jackson Gibbs. We're all up, with his son, to visit a bit. Take care of a few things around his house and store, do a bit of fishing and target shooting. That sort of thing. I think we're planning on a couple of days at Ricketts Glen State Park National Park camp grounds and a hike."

She laughed. "Ol' Jackson goin' with you on that?"

"Doubt it. He'll go fishin' and have a shot or two on the range, but campin' and hikin'? Doubt that." Tony grinned. "I know he'll love breakfast. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, sausage, hash browns, toast. I forget anything?"

She nodded. "OJ and biscuits."

Tony frowned for a moment, murmuring, "Flour, baking powder, salt ... shortening? Blast." He looked up again. "I don't remember seeing any shortening. I'll have to run back for some."

Debby nodded. "Get Crisco, not the store brand."

Tony went back to get a can of Crisco; he took a look at the ingredients on the store brand and put it back. He returned to the front and put the can down. "There. Thanks for waiting."

Debby laughed. 'You see anyone else in here? Okay." She scanned the Crisco into the register, hit total, and gave Tony the amount.

He peeled some bills off the clip he kept in his pocket and accepted the bags. "Thanks."

He returned to the car and pulled out of the parking lot. He hadn't gone a block before he was pulled over by a sheriff's cruiser.

The officer got out and loud-hailed him, "Get out of the car. Keep your hands where I can see them." Now this caused a bit of a problem as, in order to open the door, Tony had to have one hand under the widow level.

What followed was just stupid, Tony would go for the door handle and the cop would yell, "Let me SEE your HANDS!" so Tony would show his hands. Then the idiot would yell, "GET out of the CAR!" so Tony would reach for the door handle. (2) They went through this routine a number of times. Finally, Tony yelled back, "I can't get out of the car if I can't open the damn door. And I can't open the door with both hands in the fucking air. Make up your damn mind."

The deputy, realizing that they were just going in circles, called the Sheriff.

The Sheriff showed up two minutes later, saw Jackson Gibbs' car with a stranger in it and took over. He walked up to the car and pulled the latch. "Okay, get out slow. Keep your hands where I can see them."

Tony sighed, "Okay, so how do I undo the seat belt?"

The Sheriff got a good look at Tony and grumbled, "Well, hell. You DiNozzo?"

"Yes." Tony hoped the Sheriff had gotten over his problem with Gibbs.

"Go very slow and unbuckle your belt. Get out and assume the position. Then we'll have a little talk about you, this car ... and my idiot deputy."

Tony kept one hand up while he reached down and popped the belt open. He let the retractor do all the work of moving the belt out of his way. After the belt was out of his way, he eased out of the car, hands still up. He stood up slowly.

The Sheriff eyed him then muttered, 'I don't remember you being this tall ... or this hard."

Tony looked down at him. "I was. Just hunched a bit and so on."

The Sheriff went to his cruiser to call dispatch. Meanwhile, Deputy Dowd decided SOP was 'cuff the perp'.

"Now, because it's procedure, I'm going to cuff you. Okay?"

Tony replied, "No, it's not okay. I don't want to be cuffed." He didn't resist, it was more like someone trying to take something from a small child who didn't want to give it up. Deputy Dowd made a grab for one of Tony's wrists. Tony pulled away, doing that weird shoulder shake that kids everywhere did.

This went on while the Sheriff spoke to Dispatch.

"No, just Anthony Dominic DiNozzo, Jr. See what you can come up with." He waited for a moment.

Dispatch came back with, "Well, I called Jackson. That young man is Leroy's 2IC, called a Senior Field Agent. He's also doing double duty as a Navy SEAL. He's a Lt. Cmd. No one seems to be able to tell me what team. I got a giant, red 'CLASSIFIED' when I ran that search. Jackson said he loaned his car so he could haul groceries. Seems both Leroy's NCIS team and Lt. Cmd. DiNozzo's SEAL team are visiting, rode in on motors. Think you might oughta let him be on his way?"

Sheriff Ed Gantry had learned his lesson when it came to Leroy Jethro Gibbs. He'd never tell how or why, but he would admit to doing some reading and soul-searching after what he referred to as Gibbs' homecoming. He turned just in time to see Dowd make another grab for Tony.

"What the hell is going on? Dowd! Christ, you're worthless as tits on a boar."

Tony stopped messing with the Deputy and stood still. He waited until the Sheriff was looking at him then said, "It's not okay if he handcuffs me. I don't want to."

Sheriff Gantry sighed, "Damn it, Dowd. Jackass." He turned to Tony and said, "Assume the position and no highjinks, understand?"

Tony winked and nodded. 'I understand." He turned around and put his hands on top of the cruiser.

The Sheriff patted him down efficiently, putting various things on top of the car then demanded, "Do you actually need all that hardware?"

"Yes, I've needed every bit of that at one time or another. That's just for NCIS. You should see what I carry on an op." Tony cooperated calmly.

"Okay, I'm going to cuff you now. Do you understand?"

"I do."

The sheriff barked at Dowd, "Now you see how you do it. Do not ask a perp if anything's okay. Ask 'em if they understand. Got me?"

Tony allowed himself to be cuffed then turned around and leaned on the car as Sheriff Gantry went to answer dispatch.

Deputy Dowd watched Tony to prevent any funny business.

Sheriff Gantry returned just in time to see Tony, still standing by the car, dangle the cuffs from his thumb.

"Need these back?"

He took the cuffs, stuffed them into his pocket and snorted. He eyed Dowd then shook his head. "I give up. Get back in the damn car and go home. Tell Leroy I'll call sometime. Go."

Tony went, laughing like a loon.

The sheriff turned to his deputy and snarled, "I don't know what they taught you in that fancy school you went to, but common sense wasn't one of them. You call the owner before the stop; just follow until you know what's what. Now I'm gonna have to apologize to one of our oldest and most respected residents." He returned to his car, grumbling all the way.

Deputy Dowd, for his part, resolved to listen to his older, more experienced training officer better. He actually wasn't even supposed to be out. He'd only been driving from the car wash back to the station. He was going to get a reaming he wouldn't forget soon. He also thought he'd be asked to apologize to Jackson Gibbs as well.

.

Tony was greeted at the door by a very concerned Jackson Gibbs. "You okay, Anthony?"

Tony handed bags of groceries to someone. "Yeah, I'm fine. You guys get the rest of the groceries out of the car." He jerked his head in the general direction of outside.

Dean and Cosmo went out to bring in the rest of the food. It didn't take them long to bring the stuff in and Remy and Tim got it put away in record time. Jackson watched with some amusement as the horseplay and name-calling reminded him of good times in the past.

Leroy ordered everyone back to bed, saying they'd get Tony's story in the morning.

As Tony was exhausted now, he went to bed too. Morning was going to come soon, and he knew they were going to want a good run.

No one heard him murmur, "Good-night, everyone."

.

Next morning was an oft-repeated scenario. Someone peeled potatoes, someone else chopped onions, which were all tossed into a frying pan. Eggs were scrambled, pancakes and biscuits made. Toast, bacon, and sausages were fried and piled on platters. Coffee, juice, and milk were poured in jugs, and condiments put out. It took twenty minutes to make enough food to feed everyone.

Jackson took his son's advice and stayed out of the way. "Leroy, I swear, I've never seen the like."

"Me neither. And every scrap will be eaten and someone will still want more. Do not get in the way of cleanup. I just cook, then get out of the way." Gibbs watched with approval as the combined team worked.

"Which ones live with you?" Jackson couldn't believe that his grumpy son had actually allowed someone to move in with him.

Gibbs pointed, "Remy, Dean, and Cosmo. Tim and Tony are living together in Tony's apartment since Tim got burned out. And Jimmy lives with Ducky. That's a relief to me; Ducky's still the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he's physically a bit ... fragile. He's ... no idea, really, just somewhere between older'n me an younger'n you."

Jackson nodded. "I see. I'm gettin' on, but I'm still capable. Got a lady that comes in to clean, and I take my laundry down to the automat. They do a good job and just put it in my trunk while I'm at the store. I'll admit I could use a bit more help here and there, but I'm doin' ok."

Gibbs eyed his Dad. "Listen to me. You need help, you call. I mean it. We don't have that many years left, and I don't intend we drift apart again. Hear me?"

"I do. You need to learn how to use that Skype thing. I'm older'n dirt, and I know how. We could video chat once in a while." Jackson gave his stubborn son a hard look.

"I know, Dad, I know. Tim is gonna teach me all that sort of thing while we're on leave." Gibbs realized that his Dad was getting old, not older; old, and he needed to keep in touch better. He worried more than he thought he would.

Jackson patted his son on the arm. "Don't worry. I have plenty of help. If I need you, I'll call; or someone else will. Now, I believe the boys have the food on the table. Let's eat."

They settled in around the big, farmhouse-style table and tucked in. Since Jackson was eldest and it was his house, they said grace, then Jackson took some of the nearest platter and passed it.

Dean took the platter and dumped about half of it on his plate. "Mmmm, bacon."

Cosmo took the platter and bitched, "Damn it, Dean, someone else might like some, ya know."

Jackson rapped his spoon on the table. "No profanity at my table please. And you, young man, put half that back. If you still want more after you finish that, we'll fry up some."

Dean eyed him for a moment then did as he was told. And the platter made its way around the table.

Remy grumbled, "Wish I'd made some gravy."

Cosmo agreed. "Could still. The pan's still got bacon grease in it."

Again, Jackson took charge. "Do not get up. Eat. If everyone's still hungry and there's still biscuits, we'll make gravy."

Tony nodded. "Good idea. If we make it in the sausage grease, there'll be some sausage bits in it." He stuffed a huge forkful of eggs into his mouth.

Tim's inherently good manners kept him out of trouble, but Dean and Jimmy got into a bit of a wrestling match over the last of the potatoes.

Jimmy picked up the bowl and started to empty it onto his plate, but Dean made a grab for it, exclaiming, 'Hey! Dibs!"

Jimmy pulled it away. "No dibs, Jet said."

Jackson started to say something but Tony beat him to it. "Da ... Shut it! Jimmy, share; what are you? Two?"

Jimmy flushed a bit then carefully divided the contents of the bowl between himself and Dean. "There. Satisfied?"

Tony said, with awful politeness, "I am. Thank you."

They finished eating what was on the table and decided that they didn't really need any more. A second pot of coffee was started, as they'd emptied the first in record time. Jackson started clearing the table and was told to sit until they started washing.

"I'm fine. Not that decrepit yet." He scowled at the tall man― Remy, he thought.

"I know that, but SOP is ... we wash and dry, homeowner puts away. That way everything is back where it belongs."

"Oh. Well, that does make sense," he nodded. "I'll sit while you all wash. We need to get moving. Max won't appreciate opening early, then we show after regular time."

Tim glanced at his watch. "It's 0645. I think the best idea might be for a couple of us to go with Jackson as fetch-an'-carry. The rest of us can clean the kitchen and make a list to stop by the grocery for lunch stuff. Jet?"

Gibbs nodded. "It's a plan. Dad and I'll go get the ammo and a few other things. Tony? Handle the rest."

Tony nodded. "But what about getting things back where they belong?"

Jackson handled that the easy way. "I'll show you. I expect you can remember." He then pointed to places in the cabinets that were empty and told them what went where.

The usual genial squabbling started and Gibbs took Jackson out of the way. "They'll bitch and moan and argue all through it. Come on."

Jackson, hearing Dean call Remy a whiny little bitch, just shook his head. "Reminds me of my Air Force days. Let's go get ammo."

.

Max nodded to his friend, "Jackson." He eyed Gibbs for a moment then said, "Leroy."

Gibbs nodded. "Max." He went in the door that Max held open for Jackson. "Thanks."

Jackson leaned on the counter. "How many boxes you think we need?"

Gibbs thought. "Probably at least one per."

Max blinked, "Per what?"

"Man. Got ... me, Dad, Jimmy, Tim, AJ, Remy, Cosmo, Dean. Better get ten."

Max sighed, "Okay. Winchester 1873 fires .44-.40's. Right?" Gibbs nodded. "I don't think I've got that many rounds. I'll go check." He walked into the back.

Jackson eyed his son. "You okay?"

"Yeah, Dad, just ... Max was always a pain in my ass. He was ... not an instigator, but he was always around, makin' snotty comments an' eggin' the rest on."

"Well, damn. I swear, I never realized how miserable you really were. Sorry." He frowned at nothing and everything.

"Dad, forget it. I left, got over it ... mostly. It's water under the bridge, over the dam, and into the ocean. We're here to have some fun." He grinned. "Poles. If we forget fishin' gear, we'll never hear the end of it."

Jackson nodded. "I'll look things over. Anyone have anything?" at Gibbs' head shake he started picking out poles. He decided on two tackle boxes full of gear and a pole per man. He had his own, but had to admit that his tackle box was decidedly empty. "Leroy? You got any tackle?"

"No. Haven't been fishin' since I took Shannon and Kelly. I gave my stuff to ... someone. Or one of my ex-wives tossed it." He settled against the counter more comfortably.

Max, deciding it was time he offered an olive branch, said, "I hear there are three?"

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah. Guess I'm just stupid."

Max shook his head. "More like blind stubborn. I'm workin' on my second. Looks like it's gonna last. Fifteen years in a week."

"Well, congratulations," Gibbs nodded.

"Thanks." He finished unloading his arms. "Got just enough .45-.40's for your order. I just got a re-stock."

Gibbs produced a credit card. "Put it all on this."

Max started ringing up as Jackson dumped the tackle boxes on the counter. "Leroy, come help with the poles."

"Okay, Dad. What did you pick?" Gibbs ambled after his father.

"I just figured out who was how tall and picked something in carbon fiber that I thought would suit." Jackson handed off a couple of poles. "How you payin'?"

"Credit card. I'll take the register slip and they'll pay me when the bill comes in." Gibbs wasn't worried about getting his money back, all the guys were really good about things like this. Tim would go over the register slips and bills and give everyone what he called an accounting. They paid ASAP, with appropriate bitching and grumbling.

After paying the tab, both Gibbses started carrying things out. Max helped, taking the opportunity to pull LJ, as he called Gibbs, to the side. "Look. I know you're really busy at whatever it is you do ... but I wish you'd be around a bit more."

Gibbs eyeballed his old tormentor then said, "He won't call. I get ... distracted. If he needs me, give me a call. Spread the word."

"Ok, that's all we can ask. What the hell is it you do, anyway?" Max really wanted to know.

So Gibbs gave him a run-down of what he did, ending, "So, I'm never out of touch. I'll leave my number with Sheriff Gantry. Oh, and you might want to spread the word not to mess with my people. Four of them are SEALs, and I'm not tellin' which ones."

Max blinked. "SEALs? Really?" He looked impressed.

"Really. And highly decorated too." Gibbs looked smugly proud.

"Oh, that's nice. You got any medals?" Max's expression said he was just curious.

Gibbs would deny any sort of one-upsmanship, but his smirked, "Medal of Honor," proved otherwise.

Max paled. "A wh-wh ... Medal of Honor?" He definitely squeaked.

"Look it up. Matter of public record. Although the details of the mission are still classified." He smirked again. "AJ calls it burn-before-reading, shoot-yourself-in-the-head-after." He then settled in the car to drive back to the house and finish getting ready to head for the park and fishing.

Jackson glanced at his son. "I heard that. You never say much about that medal and I always wondered why."

Gibbs, who had never said much about it, replied, "I don't deserve it. Four men died, all friends of mine. Hurts."

"Ah. That's sad. But ... well, I'm proud of you, son. Never said it enough." He let the subject drop. "Now, how are we all going to get our stuff where we need it."

"Your old truck. We'll be takin' the motors. Damn, never thought. It still run?"

"It does." Jackson nodded once. "Just ... it could use an oil change."

Gibbs took the opportunity offered. "Okay. And make up a list of repairs that need doin'. We'll be around as long as it takes. Up to two weeks."

Jackson thought about that for a moment. "I just need the window frames and soffits painted. The store ... there's a squeaky plank right in front of the middle shelving unit. Everyone comes in the front, steps on it and it squeaks. Other than that? Car needs to be washed and truck needs an oil change."

"Done, done, and done. We'll figure out who does what tonight and be done in two days. We'll be in the area for another week, for sure. I'd like to get all the chores done quickly so we can spend a few days camping."

"Good. Thanks. Where you plannin' on camping?" Jackson realized that his son wasn't going to be staying at 'home' for three weeks. He figured, correctly, that all the men had something they wanted to do, so fair was fair.

Gibbs parked as close to the porch as he could get, driving over the unmown lawn and blocking the front stairs. Jackson scowled then said, "Add mow to the list. I hired Sonny Layrabe to do it but he's ... unreliable."

Gibbs asked, "You want me to have a word with him?"

Jackson shook his head. 'Don't bother. I already spoke to his mother, she's ... featherheaded, at best. I'll get Lulu Smith to do it."

Gibbs nodded at the name. "She's makin' a name for herself. Does good work."

"Bit expensive, but I'm done with hiring teenagers. Used to do it to give them a leg up but now ... can't rely on 'em. The good ones go off to college and the rest ..." he grunted his opinion of the rest and got out.

Gibbs got together with Tony and set up the poles with reels and quick snaps, then broke them down again. "There. We'll just grab a pole when the time comes, then trade around until everyone's happy. Keep an eye on Dad, okay? I noticed that he's gettin' a bit wobbly on his feet."

Tony agreed. "I'll spread the word. Wouldn't hurt to have Doc do an assessment on the sly."

"Good idea. I'll have a word with him. But ... everyone in town keeps an eye on the old folks. It's a community tradition from way back. I'll leave my number with the Sheriff in case of an emergency."

Tony just said, "Give him mine too. Just in case."

Gibbs nodded. "Thanks, AJ." He made a call to the sheriff's office on Jackson's phone and left his number and Tony's as emergency contacts. He then wrote them on the contact sheet next to the phone. It was actually fairly full of names and numbers. He decided to get Tim to put them all in his phone.

Tim took one look at the list and grumbled, "Well, I'm glad I got that new app. All I have to do is take a picture of each name and number and the app will convert it into a phonebook entry. It'll take a bit of time but I'll do it right now."

While Tim was doing that, Tony hunted Jimmy up and gave him the lowdown on what they wanted.

Jimmy was willing and had already done part of the work. He told Tony about his findings. "Jackson is in really good shape for his age. Mind is sharp. He's a lot like Ducky. The only problem he's having right now, as far as I can tell from casual observation, is a bit of minor muscle weakness and a slight balance problem. Not unusual for a man his age."

Tony sighed. "In other words, he's just old."

Jimmy nodded. "Exactly. I'll watch him for several indicators of problems, but I don't expect to see anything."

Gibbs, who was standing right behind Jimmy, startled him by saying, "Thanks, Doc Gremlin, I really appreciate that."

Jimmy jumped a foot and yelped. "Sunny Beaches. Jet, scare me out of my skin!"

"Okay." Gibbs smirked at his friend. "We need to be on the move."

They went out onto the porch. Gibbs nodded in the direction of the motorcycles. "Wanna ride with me, Dad?"

Jackson gave that all the consideration it deserved: he laughed. "No thanks. No way are you getting these old bones on one of those things. I'll just drive my truck."

Meanwhile, Tony and the others were making sure everything in Jackson's truck was tied down and covered properly. None of this dump-everything-in-the-bed-and-hope-for-the-best stuff for them.

Tony had talked to all the others and they'd agreed that they would leave the poles here, as they were going to make a habit of coming up for fishing trips on a regular basis.

So they left with a grumble and a rumble—Jackson's truck had a leaking exhaust system.

.

They arrived at the park and looked for empty slots to park in. They were lucky enough to get places in the Lake Rose parking lot. The ranger said it filled up quickly during peak times, but they were at the end of the season, so they could take as many spots as they wanted.

Jackson was delighted; he loved this park and had fished here many times. He had to say, "I used to take the Falls Walk but ... these old legs just won't do it anymore. Too bad. But, if you boys want to take it, I'll just fish." He smiled a bit sadly.

Tony suggested renting a remuda and riding the trail. Jackson admitted that it was a good idea but wasn't sure it would be allowed. Most parks didn't allow horses and hikers on the same trails.

Dean shrugged, "We'll just rent one then. Jackson can ride and we'll hike. If we promise to clean up after the horse, I bet we can get away with it."

Gibbs just trotted off to see what he could arrange. It turned out that the park did allow horses on all the trails, with certain restrictions, which they met. The man at the rental [hack stable] explained that only the handicapped or elderly were allowed to ride on all trails.

Gibbs chuckled, "It's for my Dad. He's ... eighty-something. I think this is going to be his last rodeo, so I'd like to get him around the Falls Trail one last time. If you'll give me a garbage bag and a shovel, I'll make sure to pick up the ... horse apples." He grinned at the desk man.

"Don't bother, just kick 'em off the trail. I'll send you with Ben. He's good-natured and a bit on the older side. Plenty of endurance, but not inclined to take off." He filled out the paperwork and had Gibbs sign in the appropriate places.

Ben turned out to be a quarterhorse with a calm disposition and good nature. Gibbs rubbed his nose and Ben lipped his palm, looking for a treat. The stablehand who'd saddled Ben for Gibbs handed over some bits of carrot which Gibbs dutifully fed the horse.

He mounted and rode Ben back to the campground just a few feet from the parking lot.

While he was gone the others had gotten side-by-side lots in the tent area. Jackson had said he wasn't going to camp, but Tony had persuaded him to think again. Especially as they had one inflatable mattress which Tony admitted he'd stuffed in just for Jackson.

The elder Gibbs was seated in a folding chair, giving directions to a smiling Tim. Tim had volunteered to set up Jackson's bed for him and was finding the old man's recollections of WWII most interesting.

Jackson, for his part, was delighted. Most people had heard his stories several times, and, while they didn't object, he was reluctant to 'wear out his welcome'.

He was recounting a story about the time a tailgunner saw something odd and thrown them all into a tizzy. They'd spent three days going over the plane with the entire crew convinced that a gremlin had jinxed them. At last they'd realized that he'd seen the reflection of a pelican in the polished skin of the plane. He ended his story by saying, "so there we were, at attention while some new Jonny chewed us out. But, we got our evens in the end. Turns out he got air sick. Puked his way across half of Europe." He chuckled at the memory.

Dean shook his head. "Highly edumacated idjits. Swear they're worse than no officers at all."

Cosmo nodded wisely. "Not all of 'em are like our AJ. He came up through the ranks, worked hard, took his classes like a man."

Tony snickered. "Still takin' classes. I think I'll wind up a perennial student."

Jackson jumped a bit as a voice from behind him said, "Online or in a classroom?"

He jumped then demanded, "Leroy, you tryin' to give me a heart attack?"

Gibbs smirked then apologized, "Sorry, Dad. Thought you'd ha' heard the horse."

Jackson got up to make friends with Ben, feeding him some of the carrot bits Gibbs had saved for the purpose.

When he realized that he was actually going to get one more trip up Falls Trail, Jackson was delighted. "Well, that's great. I'm gettin' too old for all that hikin'. Fishin's good around here. But the best streams are off that way." He waved an arm in the general direction of the more desirable and distant areas. "We could bring the poles?"

Remy agreed, "We sure can. I'll carry 'em. We'll set 'em up for trout?"

"Could do." Cosmo started rummaging in the tackle box for the proper gear. Tim moved to help him, and they soon had everything stuffed into various pockets on their packs.

There was a lot of laugher, rude comments, and general horseplay as they got ready to head up the trail. Jackson was really astonished when they all donned rucks. "What in the Sam Hill are you gonna do with all that?"

Tony shrugged. "Never know what you might need. I take my girlfriend everywhere in upcountry. I think this counts."

Gibbs agreed. "Me too. I've never been up a trail that I didn't need something in the bag I left behind."

Cosmo nodded, "So true. AJ, remember that time we were in ... hell, I don't remember but somewhere dry and dusty. Anywho, we were out in the middle of fuckin' nowhere an' runnin' out of water quick. We found a sippy spring and that's when we found that no one had a straw."

Dean groaned in remembrance. "So we drank out of the thing and all wound up with the GI's. I've got two now. One in a pocket and one in my pack."

Jackson blinked for a moment then demanded, "What the hell is a straw, because I know you don't mean one of those plastic things you stick in a can of pop."

Remy pulled one out of a pocket and showed it to him. "It's a purifier built into a straw. You can drink out of almost any contaminated water source without getting sick." Jimmy nodded and waggled his in the air. Tim just smirked, he had several.

Jackson examined the straw with interest. "Some of this newfangled stuff is something else." He started to hand it back but Remy said he had a couple more and Jackson should have it.

After a bit more messing around, they started up the trail. Jackson knew the name of every fall, how tall it was, and some general geology of the area. He enjoyed telling the younger men, as they seemed really interested and asked intelligent questions. Especially Jimmy, who seemed to know a little bit about nearly everything. Tim commented that he was never playing Trivial Pursuits with him.

They finally reached the fork that took them to the fishing area; they paused as Jackson told them. "Well, here's a decision point. Do you want to finish seeing the falls? or head for the fishing?"

Tony glanced around. "We'll take the other fork back. That way we can see the rest of the falls. I just hope we get enough fish."

Gibbs figured in his head. "If we all get our limit and they're good-sized, we'll be ok. If not, whoever doesn't get their limit gets what they caught; they can fill up on MRE's."

Jackson replied, "Now that's fair, but I feel for anyone who doesn't fill their limit. GI issue is not that good. I remember."

Gibbs chuckled. "You remember K- and C-rations. MRE's are nothing like that."

Jackson snorted. "Seein's believin'." He flinched a bit as Dean hopped up behind him, dumping his pack on a loudly complaining Tony.

"No, dude, you did not just dumb forty fuckin' pounds of shit on me." He grumbled some more as he wrestled the pack piggyback on top of his own. Jimmy kindly helped him, avoiding his attempt to dump the thing on him instead.

While he was bitching, Dean was opening an MRE so that Jackson could see what was in it. He muttered, "Ok, let's see ... yum, beef stew ... mashed potatoes ... crackers and peanut butter ... cookies ... skittles ... instant coffee, tea, and, cocoa. Lucked out there. Sometimes you get that gross Gatorade shit. Salt, pepper, Tabasco. Heating tab. And the accessories ... in this case ... gum, toilet paper, spork, wet wipe ... that's it." As he was talking, he handed Jackson the packages.

Jackson juggled the mess until Remy just reached up and took most of it. "Le'me have that mess." He took the master pouch from Dean and started shoving everything back into it. "Idjit, he can't juggle all that mess. What's wrong with you?"

Dean snatched the pouch and stuffed the rest of its content back into it. "Not. You're just a nit-picky asshat." He patted Jackson on the shoulder then dismounted and reclaimed his pack from Tony. "Thanks."

Dean managed to keep up his sulk for a whole twenty feet; then Cosmo smacked him on the ass and called him a whiny little bitch.

"Am not." Dean shoved Cosmo, who bumped into Remy.

"Are too." Cosmo recovered and shoved Dean right into Tim.

"Am not." Tim shoved Dean back.

"Are too."

Tony snarled, "You're both gonna win a smack if you don't stop that. You're gonna scare the fish. And piss me off. Mats, both of you."

Jackson gentled Ben, patting his neck. "If you two don't settle down ..."

Gibbs just barked, "Stick a sock in it."

Both men settled at once. Remy eyed them up then muttered, "You two ... like kids."

Jackson agreed. "Act just like the Sims brothers. Fought like dog and cat, but anyone messed with one, they had both of 'em on their hands." He eyed Dean and Cosmo fondly. "You two settle down before someone gets hurt."

Dean sighed and poked Cosmo in the shoulder; they said, "Yes, sir. Sorry," at the same time.

Jackson smiled at them and said, "Bread n' butter."

This caught everyone's attention and led to Jackson explaining the old superstition that saying the same thing at the same time was bad luck, only dispelled by someone in the group saying, 'Bread n' butter.' By the time he was done with this, they were at the place in the stream that was supposed to be the best fishing in the park.

Gibbs took the bridle off Ben and loosened the girth. He had been told that Ben took a ground tie without complaint, but he decided to stake him just to be on the safe side. It didn't take long to hand out the poles and ready them for use.

Jackson admitted that he was only going to be able to fish for a little while before he wore out. He settled himself to stand on the bank and cast out. The others all picked what they considered suitable places and began to fish.

Tony caught the first fish, Gibbs, ready with a net, scooped it up and had it on a stringer in seconds. Jackson caught the next one and netted it himself. He did allow Cosmo to put the slippery creature on the string for him.

They continued to fish for over two hours; then they were politely approached by a ranger.

"Excuse me. Hello." He actually flinched as eight heads turned nearly as one. Even the oldest had a laser-like gaze. He felt pinned in place for a second.

Tony realized that they'd put the ranger off so he ambled over. "Hello yourself ...Ranger Davis. Can I help you?"

"Um ... yes. I need to see all your permits, fishing and so on. Also ... horse?" He wasn't sure what to ask as the fishing area was just off the bridle trail.

Jackson replied to that. "I'm a bit old to be tramping around in these hills anymore. Leroy got permission for my ride," he smiled easily.

Ranger Davis eyed him for a moment, realized that it was true, and limited himself to the comment, "Okay. If he decides to take a dump, please kick the ... um ... off the trail."

Dean just said, "Horse apples."

The ranger eyed him for a moment, obviously trying to decide if that was an informational comment or smart-ass remark. He blinked, then returned to business as Gibbs had collected ID's, fishing licenses, and permits from everyone. He just shoved them in Davis' general direction and expected him to grab them, which he did. He examined the ID's quickly, then went on to the licenses and permits. He finally handed them all back. "Well, everything's in order. I also need to check your catch."

Jackson took the opportunity to get someone to put out his chair; he was beginning to feel a bit weak in the legs. "Here, Jimmy, set up that chair, will you? I'm gettin' tired."

Jimmy quickly unfolded the camp chair from his pack and put it out. "There you go. Need a drink?"

Jackson shook his head. "No, thank you." He settled easily, grumbling softly, "Hell, gettin' old. Don't like the alternative at all."

Jimmy grinned at him. "True, true."

Ranger Davis checked the fish by eye, then measured a couple. "Very nice. I hope you realize that you're really supposed to have a stringer each. But, since your catch, divided by the number of people is still short at least five fish, I'm going to let it slide." He grinned. "It's a real pain to keep track of eight or nine stringers. He settled in for a bit of a chat. "So, what's NCIS?"

Gibbs eyeballed Tony who came to the rescue easily. Gibbs was not a chatty sort and resented idle chatter when he had something to do. He returned to fishing, wading out knee deep and casting.

Tony eyed him for a moment then shrugged, "Excuse the functional mute." He went on to explain about NCIS.

Ranger Davis nodded. "I see. So ... the IDs stated that four of you are Navy, three NCIS. So what do you do?"

Jimmy joined the conversation as he'd caught his limit. "I'm a Medical Examiner's Assistant. I do the ... odd jobs. Weighing stuff, measuring organs, sewing up. That sort of thing. Oh, and I clean."

Ranger Davis blinked for a moment. "Oh ... that's ... different?"

Jimmy smiled shyly. "You wouldn't believe the things you can learn from the weight and texture of a liver."

Ranger Davis shrugged. "Learn a lot from stomach contents. Like where a bear has been, what he's been doing that he shouldn't. Health. Yeah, you can learn a lot from organs."

Tony grimaced and changed the subject. "I'm Senior Field Agent." At Davis' puzzled expression he explained further. "I'm Gibbs 2IC. Tim..." he pointed at Tim, who noticed and waved back. "He's our tech. You need something electronic done, he's your man. You pair him with Abby, and they can hack a password in seconds. Needs to be done more than you'd expect. Computer Forensics. No idea. Seriously."

Jimmy nodded. "There's more to detective work than just questioning perps and that."

"There is," Tony nodded, absently checking on everyone.

Dean and Cosmo were still fishing; Jimmy was right beside him; Gibbs was a bit farther out than before, nearly waist deep in the cold water. He groaned as he didn't see Tim or Remy. Jackson also looked for them.

"Where in the dickens are Remy and Tim? Haven't seen them for a bit."

Tony groaned. "Holy fuckin' shit. If those two lugnuts startle Gibbs, someone's gonna get hurt. Mats. Both of 'em. I swear." He started off to look for his two missing teammates.

Ranger Davis turned to Jimmy for an explanation. "Oh! Yeah. They're nuts. SEALs. And Gibbs is a Marine, retired. They're always tryin' to sneak up on him." He looked around. "I don't see them. Wonder what the ..."

Just then Remy surged out of the water in front of Gibbs with a rebel yell that echoed around the clearing. Gibbs just eyed him for a second then squatted, grabbed his legs and jerked, dumping Remy back into the stream. "Saw your shadow. Idjit."

Remy re-emerged from the stream, spluttering indignantly. "Damn it, Jet."

"Ya. Where's Tim?" Gibbs smirked, plunged his hand into the stream and dragged Tim up. "Oh! Here he is." Gibbs gave Tim a shake. "Good try. Big fail." Gibbs pushed Tim into Remy, who grabbed him. They both floundered and flailed before falling into the stream again. "While you're down there, find my pole. I dropped it in all the ... excitement." Gibbs' dry delivery made everyone laugh. "That's right, yuck it up." he tripped Tim just as he was getting up. "Pole."

Tim gave up. "Okay, okay. Stop that." He dove down to find Gibbs' pole, helped by Remy, who held him down with a foot on his butt. Tim found the pole and brandished it in the air; Remy thoughtfully removed his foot, and Tim stood up. He offered the pole to Gibbs, who took it, remarking, "Might as well give it up, since you've scared the fish into the next state."

They waded out, soaked and chilled.

While they'd been messing around, Jackson had wisely started a small fire. It wasn't much, but it was enough to dry clothing and warm the two chilled men.

Ranger Davis decided that retreat was the wisest choice and took his leave, calling, "Everything's in order; I better get back to work. Have a nice day." He trotted off over a hill and out of sight.

Jackson couldn't contain himself any more. "What the hell were you two thinking? That water's cold as ice. You'll take your death of foolishness," he continued to scold as Gibbs, Tim, and Remy stripped down to their shorts. Gibbs took all their clothing and wrung it out, handing it off to Remy, who draped it over nearby bushes to dry.

Jimmy had scooped up a pot of water and put it on the fire to boil. "I'll make some tea for all of us. Bags?" He didn't even flinch when Dean reached over his shoulder to give him several.

Cosmo just wrapped each of his friends in a survival blanket. "Idiots. You'll all be on the mats with AJ if you don't watch out."

Remy moaned, "Oh, no. Mats, just no."

Tim shook his head. "You know, if AJ says mats, mats it is."

Jackson had already had an explanation of going on the mats with AJ. He offered, "Better settle down then. Don't fancy any more bitching and moaning than necessary." He then handed a knife off to Dean. "Better clean those fish."

Dean eyed the flimsy knife with obvious disfavor. "No, thanks. I have my own." He pulled his knife out of his boot and went to get the string of fish. Cosmo joined him. As they had drawn straws for cleaning before they started fishing there were no complaints. They'd get first choice when the fish were done.

The minute Remy and Tim were dry, Gibbs had them get dressed in their still-damp clothing and start policing the area. Tony only crossed his arms over his chest and glowered when they shot pleading glances his way. Gibbs, for his part, settled by the fire to get completely dry and warm, while he waited for his clothing to be dry. He was not finishing several miles of trail in wet pants. Boots, he realized, were another thing. But everyone had wet boots from wading out to fish.

Tony gave it another few minutes then politely asked Jackson, "You ready to mount up? We need to move out in ..." he looked at the sky. "twenty. Don't want to be on the trails at dusk, and sundown and dusk are two very different things in these mountains."

Jackson scrambled a bit, then gained his feet. "Right you are. And we don't want to miss any of the falls on the way back, they're the best ones. Not all of them are the tallest but they are pretty."

Gibbs was amused to see all the SEALs scrambling to help his father back on Ben and comfortable. Tony sidled up to him. "Guys like your Dad. He's a handful."

"He is. Stubborn as a mule." Gibbs smiled fondly.

"Yeah, you didn't suck it out o' your thumb." Tony took off before Gibbs could swat him.

The trip back down was just as much fun as the trip up. Again they took their time; they stopped a few times to put the fish back in the stream to keep them cool. Tony took the opportunity to do a few sketches.

Gibbs leaned over his shoulder and commented, "That's really good. I never thought you were more than a ... crime scene kinda guy."

Tony shrugged. "Works for SEAL ops too. No chance of a lens flash giving me away. And I use a tool I made out of cardboard for establishing perspective and distances."

Gibbs watched a bit, then wandered off to keep Remy and Dean from doing something stupid. "No, you can't climb that cliff. No gear." He hauled Dean off the cliff face, slick with moss from the spray. "You fall and Tony'll kill me."

Remy grumbled, "Spoilsport. Damn gyrene."

"Kiss it, LeBeau." Gibbs got hold of his belt and dragged both men back to the group.

Tony glanced up, sighed and put his work away. He was almost done and could finish later. "What stupidity did you save them from now?"

Gibbs bopped Dean on the shoulder. "Those two were going to climb the cliff face next to the falls."

Tony shook his head. "No equipment, wet rock, waterfall. What part of stupid didn't you two get?"

Dean whined, "But, AJ, we climb stuff all the time. So it's wet."

Tony eyed him up then hairy-eyeballed Remy. "Mats. Really. Grown men and you act like ... I don't know what."

Jimmy poked Tim and held out a hand. Tim grumbled, "I'll owe you."

Cosmo opened his big mouth and stuck his number ten right in it. "Well, 'scuse you. Not like you don't get crazy from time to time."

Tony turned, eyed Cosmo with that calm, cold expression that made them all cringe. "I do, yes, I do. But I play pranks, harmless ones; I do not try to kill myself by climbing moss-slick, spray-wet rocks. Especially when there's a fucking sign right there ..." he pointed to the sign. "One that says, and I quote ... 'No climbing.'"

Cosmo sighed. "Sorry, AJ, just ... never mind." He gave his CO a hopeful look. "No mats?"

Tony thought for a moment. "No, no mats ... this time. But watch that attitude. 'Kay?"

"Okay. Um ... AJ?" Cosmo ducked his head like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "We good?"

"We're good." He turned to Remy and Dean. "As for you two ... mats. Or rather, ground. Tonight after chow."

Remy just sighed while Dean moaned and grumbled a bit; a sharp look from Gibbs shut him up.

Everyone clowned around, but when they went too far Tony stomped on it quickly. Gibbs shook his head. "Let's get on the way. We've messed around enough for the day. Dad?"

Jackson, who'd stayed out of the mess, just said, "I'm fine. We need to move out, I'm ready. I think Ben would appreciate his stall about now."

Tim just shouldered his pack and took off with Jimmy on his heels. He knew that Tony wasn't really mad and that they were all good, but the distraction of a quick march was just what they needed to finish smoothing things over.

Jackson took the opportunity offered by Tony pacing Ben to offer some advice. "Don't be too hard on them. They're still young and indestructible."

Tony grinned up at him. "I know. It's part of my job to keep them from killing themselves doing stupid stuff like that. It's all good." He thought for a moment then said, "You think we've got enough fish?"

Jackson considered carefully. "Well, I'll only eat a couple, and I planned on makin' skillet bread, so that'll help. Yeah, I think we've got plenty."

Tony sighed. "Good. I hate the thought of having to fill someone up with MREs, we eat enough of that crap as it is."

Jackson soon realized that Ben was capable of a gait called the Tennessee Walk, which isn't really a walk. It was somewhere between a trot and a canter, sometimes referred to as a rack. It was also referred to as the paso largo. It was a smooth, even motion that Ben could keep up for quite some time; it was also very easy on the rider. This meant he could keep up with the group without having his ass pounded to paste.

The team made good time and finished an hour hike in less than ten minutes. They didn't even miss anything as the climbing attempt had been made on the last fall on the trail.

.

When they were finally back at camp, they discovered that their tents had been moved along with their gear; their motors had also been moved. This was obvious, as everything except Jackson's truck was gone. There was a note on the windshield telling them that everything was down at the Lake Jean campground. This did not make anyone happy. They were about to make an unholy stink when a ranger hurried over.

"Hi. I'm sorry we had to move your stuff, and we need you to move that truck too. We've got a washout under the parking lot up here and the company who is fixing it decided to move the job up the queue. We moved what we could .. I know it's a bit unorthodox, but they've already started." He looked hot and harassed.

Tony just took the keys from Jackson and said, "I'll move the truck. Why don't you take Ben back to the stables. They're just across the road from the station, right? Save your feet and us a few steps. Okay?"

The ranger looked relieved and accepted Ben's reins happily.

Tony trotted off to get Jackson's truck while the rest of the team went down to repitch the tents, check the bedding, and cut firewood for the night. This camp was actually better, as they'd been moved from the tent ground to an empty trailer spot near the lake.

Tony got in, started the old truck, and picked Jackson up from their old spot. He drove the long way around to bring the truck to the new camping spot, cruising the road slowly, as he wasn't quite sure exactly where the new spot was. Jackson was just glad to be riding instead of walking.

"These old bones aren't going to like sleeping on the ground, no matter that nice mattress you brought. I'm not lookin' forward to gettin' up in the morning. Stiff isn't the word," he sighed.

Tony grimaced. "Sorry. But ..." he pulled his cell out of his pocket, speed dialed Gibbs and waited. "Gibbs. Look around. Any empty cabins?"

Gibbs looked, saw that three were empty and told Tony that. "We gonna rent?"

"Gibbs, your Dad isn't liking the idea of waking up on cold ground, mattress or no. I think we ought to get one for him at least." Tony waited while Gibbs found the number on the one closest to their new spot.

When he got it, Tony said that he'd just stop at the Office and rent it. It didn't take long before Tony had the key and a handful of brochures. He also had sheets, blankets, a pillow and instructions to return all the linens when they left.

"You didn't have to pay. I can afford it."

Tony snorted. "Can it. You're the closest thing I've got to a grandfather. Both of mine died before I was in my teens. Father? He's a waste of space. I still have that sweater you gave me."

"Well, imagine that. That ol' thing? You're welcome to it. Glad you like it. And thanks for the cabin. My bones will appreciate it in the morning. That place have a kitchen?" Jackson was imagining the things he could make for breakfast if he had a kitchen.

Tony grinned, knowing quite well what he had in mind. "It does."

They found the camp and joined the group around the fire for a moment. Tony announced, "I rented Jackson a cabin; it has one full sized bed." He grinned, "And a kitchen. Someone go make up the bed."

Remy jumped up first. He wasn't sucking up; he really liked Jackson and liked doing things for him. "I'll do it." He grabbed the linens and hurried off to deal.

While he was making up the bed and turning on the heat, the rest of the group started supper. The fish had been cleaned, but they washed them again. Gibbs started frying up some bacon to grease the skillet for the bread Jackson had promised. They also had potatoes to bake in the Dutch oven. Dean started working on the fish, which they were going to bake over the coals on a grill provided by the grounds.

"You want dill? Or not?" Dean eyed the fish with relish. The vote was dill so he put salt, pepper and dill inside each one. Then he put half a slice of bacon in as well. He wasn't a bit surprised to see that Cosmo was wrapping each fish in foil as he finished with it.

Jackson had mixed his bread while Gibbs was frying up the bacon. "Here, Dad, want me to crumble the bacon?"

"Yes, please. I'll have the dough done in a second. You can knead the bits in for me while I check the temp of the coals." He wiped his hands on a paper towel and tossed it into the fire. He held a hand over the bed of coals and nodded. "Coals are good."

While Jackson was checking the fire, Gibbs pinched off bits of dough and made balls of them; he put the balls into the skillet, then put the lid on it. "There we go. All ready." He carried the skillet over to the coals and set it down next to the Dutch oven. "That should all be ready at about the same time."

They sat around, drinking beer or soda and telling stories. Tony actually started it out by saying, "You know the difference between a Northern Fairy Tale and a Southern Fairy Tale?"

Gibbs laughed and said, "No. Why don't you tell us?"

Tony grinned then said, "A Northern Fairy Tale starts with 'Once Upon A Time,' and

a Southern Fairy Tale starts with 'Y'all ain't gonna believe this shit.'"

They all laughed heartily at that; then Gibbs added, " And a Military Fairy Tale starts out: 'No shit, there we were...'"

Dean nodded. "It do, it surely do. So ... No shit, there we were ... in the middle of fuckin' nowhere, Afghanistan. It was hotter'n a fresh fucked fox in a forest fire an' we were out of water, food, ammo, and patience. The pickup was three days late, so we decided it was a total FUBAR and to hike it out. I got HQ on the horn, and they said that pickup had been there, waited twelve hours, and we hadn't shown. Now ex-squeeze me, but we were where we were supposed to be and I proved it. Turns out that some greenie had transposed two damn numbers in the co-ordinates, and they were miles off. Clear over in Pakistan ... or Kazakstan or one of those 'stans' in the area. The idiot squid on the other end said someone was in the area, and we should stay where we were and pickup would be there in a couple of hours. We decided to wait exactly that, then start out. Never could understand why some HQ POG's can't get it right. Anyway, here comes a troop carrier roaring up in a cloud of dust and sand. Pops open and AJ's yellin' 'Hey, someone call a cab?' Never so glad to see an officer in my life. Made it back in one piece and AJ just wandered away, yellin', "You guys need a CO? Come with me, if you do." Now, that jerk-off who was our commander had gotten his Annapolis ass shot to hell and gone on that op, so we did. Cosmo and I just followed him off and been followin' his dumb ass ever since."

Gibbs laughed along with the rest then said, "Here's one." He proceeded to tell a story about a donkey, a general, and a new recruit that had them all rolling.

They checked the food from time to time and Tony finally declared the food done. They all lined up with their mess kits, bought at a military surplus, and each took a fish, some bread, and a potato. They settled in to eat with a hearty appetite. Jackson's bread went over very well, the potatoes were soft and mealy, the fish tender and juicy. It wasn't long before it was all gone and Remy, Tim, and Jimmy were sniffing around for more.

Tim eyed the last of the fish on his plate with a mournful gaze. "Man, this is so good. I know I'm full but I wish there was more." He finished the last of his fish and flopped back with a groan.

Jimmy nodded his agreement, announcing, "I've had just enough, but it smells wonderful." He groaned too as he got up. "Okay, KP for me. Plates?" Those who were finished handed over their plates for washing.

While Jimmy and Tim were washing, the rest of the group started off on another round of stories.

Finally Jackson announced, "I don't know about you young squids, but I'm tired. Good night." They all wished him good night and went back to their stories, watching carefully to see that he got to the cabin.

Tim was next up for a second story. "Okay. I was at MIT, sixteen years old. Everyone picked on me and I couldn't do much to defend myself. Too young, too small, too ... everything. Only, they forgot, I'm a computer geek. MIT was one of the first schools to have people send in assignments via email. Every single asshole that bothered me didn't turn in a single assignment on time that semester. Word got around and they left me alone," he smirked. "To this day they don't know how I did it. The professors offered me extra credit, all sorts of stuff if I'd just tell 'em. None of them could figure out how I did it."

Tony thought about it for a moment then asked, "How hard was it to gain access to their machines?"

"None of them even locked their dorm doors," Tim grinned. "Never touched the mainframe. Just reset some clocks, overclocked this and that, and ... voilà ... each one had a different problem, but they all either lost their assignments when they tried to attach them, or they were late. Or early, which looked even more suspicious."

Cosmo nodded then said sagely. "Never piss off a computer jock. Not good in a very bad way. You know what they say about the quiet ones."

Gibbs agreed, "Right. The louder they are, the less they'll do. The quiet ones will have you waking up in hell wondering what the fuck happened." He eyed his beer bottle suspiciously. "Um ... this is my last. It's empty, an' I don't remember finishing it off. Someone fucking with me? Or what?"

Remy did the same then announced. "I'm for bed. That bottle snuck up on me. Night."

They all decided that it was last call and went off to their tents.

Tony kindly let Remy and Dean think he'd forgotten about taking them on the mats; he'd had one too many beers and so had they. The idea was to make them think before doing stupid shit, not break something.

.

[That's High Explosives; the American Air Force used a lot of that in WWII: carpet-bombing from B17s and B24s; not high-precision, but high-saturation work. Lots of collateral damage.]

(2) I've actually seen this. It's crazy.