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.

5. Chapter 5

. Chapter Five .

Morning came early with much bitching and moaning.

Gibbs decided to forego a shower, knowing he was going to be covered in sweat, sawdust, and dirt before the day was done. He sat at the table, sipping coffee and listening to the muted chaos of six men getting ready.

Tony shouted, "Dean, damn it, my toothbrush."

Dean's loud rejoinder of, "Not. Mine. Yours is green," was negated by Remy.

"It's not. The green one was left behind. His is blue."

Cosmo was next on the bitch list as he slid into the running shower before anyone else could.

Dean yelled, "Cos! Dibs, man."

"Dibs my butt. If you're not in it, it's fair game. Five minutes." Cos shut the door in Dean's face. Dean slapped it with one hand.

Jackson yelled. "All you idiots settle down. Form a damn line. Know you know how to do that. Navy's all hurry up and line up. Be down in twenty or you'll be eatin' cold food."

Tony ambled down the stairs, yelling over his shoulder. "Don't know why anyone's actually showerin', we'll all be sweaty and dirty in no time anyway." He flopped down, took the mug Jackson handed him and asked, "Ok, paint soffits. What's first."

"Scrap off the flaking paint and check for soft spots." Gibbs smirked at Tony, "I'm sure you know how to scrape paint."

"Jerk."

"Dumb squid."

"Jarhead."

"Damn right. Drink your coffee." Gibbs finished his coffee and refilled his mug.

Tony took over the cooking, leaving Jackson to sit next to his son. "You know that's a lot of work to do in one day."

Dean flopped into a seat and replied, "So's painting a battleship, but it gets done." He frowned, then continued, "Usually paint a section at a time, but works out to a complete job once a year or so. So doing the soffits isn't that big a job. And there's seven of us. Six painting, and Remy's gonna mow everything. That 8N is gonna make that a fairly easy job."

Gibbs shook his head. "I'm not painting. I'm fixin' the porch an' the store floor."

"Ok, that's still me, Dean, Cos, Tim, and Jimmy. If five men can't get that job done in two days ... well, send me back to boot 'cause I didn't learn anything the first time around."

Cosmo joined the conversation, saying, "There's not that much. The house is big, but it's more up and down than spread out. There's only about ..." he mumbled off.

Jackson laughed. "The house is 40 by 75. Add on the porch ... 12 by 14, figure in the angle, which is 40 degrees, and I come up with 280 feet, plus or minus a bit. Figure paint at 16 inches by 300 feet and there'll be plenty. Now, is breakfast done yet?"

It seemed it was. As breakfast included pancakes, Tony took over halfway through and kept it coming until everyone had their fill. Then they broke up to head off for paint, scrapers, brushes, and anything else they needed. Jackson sent Jimmy to the neighbor across the way to borrow his ladder.

This resulted in the neighbor helping him carry it back.

Once he was there, he found Jackson and started in. "Jackson Gibbs. I hope to hell you're not planning on scrambling up that ladder to paint so much as an inch. You'll fall off and break something."

Jackson just pointed to the by-standing men. "Nope. Don't plan on doing more than kibitz. The boys are doin' all the hard stuff. Leroy's gonna take care of the porch and that squeak in the store. Remy's gonna mow everything for me. You want him to mow that mess too?" Jackson pointed to another lot that was also overgrown.

The neighbor eyed the lot then smiled at Remy. "If you don't mind, I'd really appreciate it. The city's makin' fine noises. Like there's anyone who mows lots anymore." He grunted then wandered away.

Remy shrugged. "Doan' make no difference to me. I'm lookin' at four hours of mowing, might as well make it five or six and be done with the day." He grinned at Jackson. "I might need to get more gas. There any problems with me drivin' on the street?"

Jackson shook his head. "Not that I know of. People do it all the time."

Jackson made a call to the lumber yard, told the owner what was going on, and arranged for Gibbs to get any lumber he needed. He also arranged to pay for the paint and all the other stuff as well. The owner said he'd refigure for the paint, just in case.

.

Gibbs ambled in the door of the lumber yard office and greeted the manager. "Ralph."

"Leroy. Got your lumber picked out, and the paint is mixing. Everything else is in this box. Got some shims and that glue you asked for. Anything else?" He plopped the box on the counter top.

"I'll be takin' a look at that lumber." Gibbs had never particularly liked Ralph. He was one of those boys who had never actually participated in bullying, but had been a bystander and egger-on.

"I picked it myself." Ralph knew that Gibbs didn't like him and why. He was a bit scared of both him and Jackson, with good reason. Jackson Gibbs made no bones, now, that he was looking back on things with a different eye.

"That's what worries me. I'm not takin' seconds." Gibbs checked the box, took out the huge bottle of glue and exchanged it for a much smaller one. "Not buildin' an ark, just puttin' down a single board in the store and three on the porch. Be sure to change the charge."

Ralph nodded sourly. "Ok. I've changed it. See?" He shoved the handwritten bill across the counter for Gibbs to initial the change.

"I'll recheck everything after I've seen the lumber. And ..." he squinted at the paper. "I don't need 20 board feet of pine. Christ on a cracker." He changed another line then squinted again. "Why don't you just start again? This is a Charlie Foxtrot from the word go."

After wadding the bill up, Gibbs went out to check every board. He rejected them all as they were pine instead of the oak and pressure-treated fir he'd asked for.

"Don't like it? Mr. Jenkins picked it all out." the loader was willing to cooperate. He wasn't that fond of Ralph Jenkins either.

"No. Ralph doesn't know a hawk from a handsaw. Bean-counting little ass-wipe." Gibbs made an apologetic face at the boy.

"That's okay. When he told me what it was for, I knew I'd be putting it back. It's just easier to do what he says, then fix it. Man'd argue the devil out of hell, just to tell him to go back. So. Gibbs' store? Needs a nice four-by, oak. How long?" Gibbs told him, so he went to look for it. "Damn. Sorry. Don't have anything that short. Shortest I've got is twelve feet. But ... if you need nine," he grinned, "I'll just cut it for you. And the porch needs fir. That I've got in six, nine, and fifteen feet."

Gibbs, envisioning the porch and the soft spot, said, "Need three boards. Give me one nine-footer and two six."

"You got it." Mark trotted off to get the boards and cut them.

While he was waiting, Gibbs wrote out the ticket himself, checking the box to make sure everything he needed was in it. Ralph came out with the paint. Gibbs made him go back.

"Damn it, Ralph, you could fuck up a two-car funeral. I said exterior, beige. That's interior white. If you're lookin' for where my goat's tied, you're about to find it. An' you're not gonna like what happens. I'm not some skinny kid fightin' three guys twice my size anymore." Gibbs gave him that look that made stronger men than Ralph cringe.

It didn't help that the owner came out of the back to greet Gibbs. "Mr. Gibbs. Hello." He looked from Ralph to Gibbs then back. "Okay. What the hell's goin' on?"

Gibbs just laid it out like it was, ending, "And I don't have the time or inclination to deal with his petty asshattery. Here's what I've written up; you can check it if you want." He handed Evan Smith the ticket.

Mr. Smith was an import from upstate and didn't give a flying fuck about old rivalries; all he cared about was the fact that one of his employees was annoying a paying customer. "Okay, Ralph, I don't know what the hell you're thinking, but this is the third time I've gotten the same complaint. If you don't get along with someone, don't wait on them, don't fill their order, and don't get into something with them. Leave it to Mark to do. And, next time will be the last. You got me?"

Ralph did. He scowled at his feet, nodded, mumbled something, then went into the office.

Mr. Smith sighed, "I'm sorry about that. He's usually good help, but there's an undercurrent in this town that I just don't get. Can't seem to get a handle on it either. But ... Mark's good help. I'll just let him deal with your order, if that's okay?"

Gibbs nodded. "That's fine. He's a good kid, I can tell."

Mr. Smith then went to give his employee an ultimatum: treat all customers with equal and excessive politeness or lose his job.

Gibbs went back out with his ticket in hand. "Here. Boss said to finish this for him."

Mark just smirked at Gibbs and went to finish the paperwork. "I'll just put this on Mr. Smith's desk." He stuffed the paper into a pocket and took Gibbs to see the boards. "Here we are. If they're okay, I'll just load them on the truck for you." Gibbs approved and finally drove away with his supplies.

.

Gibbs drove back to the house and parked as close to the porch as he could get. He started unloading the paint, counting the cans as he did so. He realized that there were at least two too many but decided to let that go; they might need more than they expected.

Tony wandered over to help, looking for the scrapers. "We're gonna need another ladder. One to scrape and one to paint, switch off every hour or so. The guys not painting can be clearing out the garden and trimming the roses." He laughed easily. "That'll actually be me and Dean. Those other lugnuts would probably kill 'em by hacking them back too hard. If you need any help at the store, call me." He found the scrapers, then turned to answer a yell from the shop. "What!?"

Cosmo hollered again, coming around the side of the house. "I found a scaffold in the rafters. Jackson forgot all about it. It'll hold two of us. That'll make it easier to scrape. It won't be that hard to move either. So ... if we had another ladder, that'd be great."

Tony brandished the two scrapers. "Go back and check the rafters again. No telling whether there's another ladder there."

Cosmo trotted off to check. No telling what was up there that Jackson had forgotten about.

They wound up finding two more ladders and another pair of clippers for the roses.

Tony nodded to Gibbs, then gave his orders. "Okay. Gibbs will do the store floor first. You call if you need help. Do not try to stick it out by yourself. Tim and Jimmy, you scrape. Doesn't take much skill, and you can't mess it up, unless you take a huge gouge out of the wood. Remy, mow. You need fuel, call the Sheriff's office to find out if it's okay to drive on the streets. Dean, Cosmo, you paint. And do not drip paint all over the bushes and shit. I'll start taking the soft boards out of the porch." Gibbs nodded and left.

Jackson announced, "You forgot to give me a job."

Tony shook his head. "No, I didn't. Keep everyone hydrated. Tea, water, lemonade. No soda. Ok, let's get this show on the road."

And they scattered to their jobs. Tim and Jimmy got the scrapers and mounted the scaffolding to begin scraping the soffits. While they were doing that, Dean and Cosmo were covering the bushes with plastic tarps to keep paint drips off them. They also prepped their paint trays and brushes. Remy headed for the back lot to start the tractor and begin mowing. He had to hand-set the mower deck, so he set it low and began to mow the yard first. Tony got a crowbar and saw to begin taking out the soft place in the porch.

Jackson joined him, settling on the steps. "I'm glad that's not somewhere people walk. Hate to see someone fall through."

Tony poked the board Gibbs had marked. "It's really soft. Dry rot, Jet said." He jabbed the crowbar through the soft board and began to pry it up. It came easily, leaving nails in the stringer. "Well, that's that. Should I pry the nails out or hammer them in?"

"Pry 'em out. If you leave 'em there's a good chance they'll be right where Leroy wants to nail in the new board." Jackson watched as Tony did exactly that, skillfully extracting the nails without bending them.

Tony moved on to the next board, poking it to make sure it needed to come out. All in all he removed exactly what Gibbs had marked.

"How the hell did he know?" Tony couldn't tell the difference between good and bad boards, except by breaking them with the crowbar.

Jackson chuckled. "Bring one over to me and I'll show you." Tony did and sat down beside the older man. Jackson poked it with his pocket knife; the knife sank in easily. Jackson handed Tony the knife. "Now you." Tony imitated Jackson. "See how easy it goes in? That's dry rot. Wet rot, the board is soggy. Either one gets bad enough and you can crumble the wood with your fingers. You check around for more spots?"

Tony shook his head, poking the board again. "No. Gibbs crawled around on this porch for an hour. I swear he checked every square inch."

"Okay. That's my boy. Never less than thorough. Now. We better check on those four before they hurt themselves." Jackson got up to go inside for drinks while Tony did go to check on Tim, Jimmy, Dean, and Cosmo. He was pretty sure that Cosmo wouldn't let the others get up to much, but it never hurt to check.

He was surprised to find that they were already about halfway done. The old paint was flaking badly, so it was easy to scrape off. Dean made sure that Tim and Jimmy knew to really scrape off all the old paint so the new would stick properly.

Cosmo hopped off his ladder to talk to Tony. "Whoever did this job last time ought to be keel-hauled. Didn't scrape at all and the new paint is peeling off with the old. It's a mess. We'll be done quicker than we thought, because the scraping is going so quickly."

Jackson came out with a jug and tin cup. He explained, "I don't feel safe trying to carry a tray of something, but this jug works just as good. Hand it around." He offered the jug to Tony, who took it and poured a measure into the cup. He handed the cup off to Tim, who emptied it, then held it while Tony filled it again. They were still getting their drinks when someone called, "Yoo-hoo! Anyone?"

Jackson went off to see who it was. He was gone for a bit then came back around. "Mrs. Flint just brought cupcakes. I expect every ol' biddy in town is baking something or makin' a casserole," he grinned. "Can't just come by and ask what's going on. But ... most of 'em are good cooks. We'll eat well tonight and probably tomorrow."

They finished their drinks and went back to work. Jackson went back inside, deciding that waiting by the door was a good idea, as he expected at least half a dozen nosy parkers to drop by with something as an excuse to find out what was going on.

Tony trotted off to check on Remy, just in case. He hadn't seen him go by for a while and didn't hear the 8N running. He rounded the shop in a bit of a panic. Remy was okay, however; he was adjusting the deck to mow the overgrown lots. Tony was just in time to help him lift the deck into a higher position.

Remy tightened the last bolt then wiped the sweat off his face and neck.

Tony eyed him for a moment. "You get a drink?"

"Yeah. Went into the house and got some water before I started adjusting the deck. Thanks for the help."

"Welcome. You keep hydrated." Tony turned to go back to the house; he was thinking about running into town to check on Gibbs.

Remy called after him. "Is there anywhere to swim? Find out, will you?"

"Ok, I'll ask Jackson. Maybe a swimming pool, if nothing else."

Tony chuckled to himself, he was missing water too. Even Tim was now part fish.

Jackson called them in for lunch at 1300. They washed up and settled at the table.

"Ok, you animals, just help yourselves. I set it all up buffet style..." he chuckled, "on the buffet." he motioned to an old-fashioned piece of furniture covered with an odd assortment of casseroles, pies, cakes, and dips. "I don't advise trying the green bean stuff. Addie never makes it right. And that cheese dip is just Velveeta and a can of something. We used to call it booger dip. Other than that everything's good."

It didn't take them long to empty the dishes, even the green beans. Tony took that into the kitchen, drained off the watery soup, and added a bit of this and that. The dips all went, except for the one Jackson had warned them about; it was too salty and the can of something turned out to be pimentos and green peppers. It made its way into the trash quite quickly.

After they ate, Remy went back to mowing, Tim and Jimmy to scraping, and Dean and Cosmo to painting, leaving Jackson and Tony to wash up. Gibbs examined the porch, then started inserting the new boards.

Tony wiped the last dish and put it on the kitchen table. "Okay. That's done. Now all we have to do is get the dishes back to the owners. How the hell do we do that?"

Jackson laughed. "We don't. I'll just take them all down to the store and put them behind the counter. As the ladies come in, I can give them their dishes back. Now ... we better be planning something for supper. And I hear that you're all going swimming."

Tony nodded. "All of us are part fish. Even that idiot gyrene son of yours. Just ... public pool?"

"Nope. Closed about three years ago as unsafe. There's a clay pit that's safe." He chuckled, then continued, "It's called The Pit. Down by the mine. It's still in use; they pump the water out of the mine into a sump that comes up in the pit. Water's cold, but really clear, and there's no big rocks. Just ... no diving off the high side. Sheriff will send you off in a hurry."

Tony shrugged. "Why not?"

"Old Man Winslow set up the rules way back when. Some kid dove off and broke his back. No one knows exactly how. So ... no diving." Jackson shook his head.

Tony, remembering the Winslow mess from years ago, asked, "How's that bunch doing?"

Jackson grumbled then said, "Whole family fell apart. Emily took Chris and went to Philly. Nick's in prison. Chuck drank himself into the hospital, then took off for God knows where. The mine's being run by some young thing from Missouri. Took a degree in mining from Rolla. Things are looking up on that front."

Tony folded the towel and dropped it into the laundry. "That's good. Safety features put in?"

"Yeah. And new fans, new elevator. Lots of things we needed way back when I was minin'. Too expensive was what we were told. But ... you know? Now that they've got all that new stuff, they've doubled production. Pay's up, too." Jackson shrugged. "Never say never, I guess."

Tony beamed at his old friend. "Movie title. Two points."

Jackson blinked. "Huh?"

Tony explained that the whole group was playing a game where they got points for using titles of movies in conversation. "Song titles are worth a point. It's fun." Tony nodded. "So, you've got two points."

"And who's keepin' track of this?" Jackson's amused tone had Tony smiling back.

"Me mostly. But Tim's keeping track too." Tony eyed the pile of dishes. "Okay, how are we gonna get that mess to the store without breaking something?"

"Box in the pantry. I'll get it." Jackson fetched the box.

While Tony was putting the dishes in it, Jackson went to check on progress.

"How's it goin', Leroy?"

Gibbs settled back on his heels. "Good. I'm tryin' to figure out how you got a rotten spot here. No leaks, nothin' sittin' here. Doesn't make sense. I'm gonna crawl under the porch and check for anything there. Don't want it rottin' out again."

Jackson contemplated the spot. "I think, when it rains, it blows in right there. Water sets. I'll just have to remember to sweep it off. Though why rain would cause dry rot, I'll never know." He settled into a chair to watch his son work.

"Okay. I'll give crawlin' under the porch a pass." He hammered in another nail. "Dad, I know you want to stay here as long as possible but ... there's some really nice places in DC."

Jackson nodded. "I know, son. Now stop fussin'. We'll deal when it's time; forget it for now."

"Okay. We're gonna go swimmin' later. You want to come? I know you won't swim, but you could sit and watch," Gibbs offered, even though he was pretty sure his Dad wouldn't want to sit around watching them play dolphin.

Jackson knew exactly what his son was up to. "Well, no, I'll admit that I need a bit of private time. Not used to havin' a crowd like this around. Not that you're not welcome but ..." he chuckled. "I'm old, and those boys are exhausting."

Gibbs' wry grin made Jackson smile back. "They can be. But I'm in better shape than I've been in years. Keepin' up with them ..." he shrugged and went back to his carpentry.

.

Remy finished mowing, then stuck the tank. It was nearly dry, so he decided to take the mower off, then run down to the station and fill it up. It wouldn't do to leave it empty, in case Jackson needed it for something.

He made a quick call to the Sheriff's Station and was told that, as long as he had a slow-moving-vehicle triangle on the back, he was okay to drive on the streets and secondary roads. He was also instructed to stay off the four-lane.

He drove to the filling station and pulled up at the pump. A boy came out and asked, "Need any help, sir?"

"No, I got it." Remy smiled at the kid who looked to be about seventeen. "Got a name?"

"Do. Evan. You new around here, or just visiting?" The kid settled in for a gossip.

"Just helping Mr. Gibbs for a bit. His son's a friend." Remy leaned against the tall rear tire.

"Ol' Mr. Gibbs? That's good. Hear his son's some sort of cop."

"Yeah, NCIS. Special Agent and team lead. Good guy to have on your side. Hell if he's pissed at you." Remy nodded.

"Well, glad to hear." The phone rang and Evan hurried to answer it.

Remy finished filling the tank and headed in to pay. Evan turned from his phone call, saying, "Look, I'll be there when I get there. I gotta go." He hung up the phone. "Sorry about that. My girlfriend can be a bit of a bitch."

"Can't they all. What's the damage?" Remy made a sympathetic face.

"She's planning a birthday party for her sister and she's makin' everyone nuts. Sister's only back from ... somewhere ... for a week. Wants to have a thing down at the Pit, and things are not coming together." He sighed. "Love her like, whoa, but ... I'm no party planner; more dumb muscle than anything." he laughed, took Remy's bill, and gave him the change.

Remy tucked the receipt and change into a pocket, then advised. "Just tell her you have no idea and offer to hump what needs humpin'. Best you can do."

"Okay, thanks. Good advice." Evan smiled.

Remy nodded at him and left to drive the tractor back to Jackson's place.

He wondered what else he needed to do with the tractor before they left. He realize with some dismay that the time for them to leave was day after tomorrow, if not sooner. But he was looking forward to the ride down to Louisiana and a visit with his Gran. He was startled to hear a yelp from a siren. He pulled off onto the shoulder and turned off the tractor.

Officer Trask had heard all about the mess with Dowd and Jackson Gibbs' car so he just got out of his cruiser and called, "Climb down, please."

Remy did so and stood by the tractor. "Is there a problem, Officer?"

"Don't know. ID please."

Remy produced his wallet, glad that he'd decided to take it, instead of just stuffing some money into his pocket. "If there's a problem, I'd ask you to call Jackson Gibbs."

"Okay. That's his tractor. So ... what are you doing with it?" Officer Trask wasn't about to create a scene before he was apprised of all the facts.

"I'm helping out around the place. I finished mowing and the tank was nearly empty, so I filled it up. I'm on the way back now." Remy watched as the officer talked to Dispatch.

"Okay, Dispatch says you have permission to have the tractor. Even called in to make sure you could drive on the streets. That's good. So, known Mr. Jack long?"

"No, just met him. But my pod lives with ... Leroy? We call him Jet." Remy, used to country ways, settled in for more gossip.

"Jet?" Officer Trask frowned over that one. "Oh! For Jethro. Heard he's a real hard-ass."

"He is, when he needs to be. Ever heard of NCIS? And he's a Marine." Remy grinned, "Not that that means much to me, bein' Navy an' all."

Trask chuckled. "I know about NCIS; they came around several years ago. Big mess with the Winslow family. Scandal ruined them. But ..." he stopped to listen to Dispatch. "Not me. So you're Navy. What do you do?"

"SEAL. My team all live with Jet, except for the CO. He lives with a friend. We're all on a road trip. Forced vacation." Remy grimaced. "Not that good an idea with us, but PTB ..." he shrugged. "What can you do?"

"I know. SEAL, huh? Heard a bit about qualifying for that. Not for me, thanks, I'm too lazy." Trask grinned. "I pass my evaluations and that's that." He patted a burgeoning muffin top. "Like my donuts too much."

Remy grinned back. "Me too. But ... you need to lose that. Hard on your heart." He cracked his back then said, "Well, nice to visit with you but I better be gettin' back before they send out a search party."

Trask nodded. "Get an ass-chewing?"

"No; CO'll take me on the mats and beat me like a drum. AJ's a good officer and takes our safety seriously. Wouldn't believe it, as he's a couple a' inches shorter than me and thirty or forty pounds lighter, but he carried me nearly 10 klicks. We both got shot all to hell, me worse than him, but I couldn't walk; got one in the thigh." Remy shook his head in remembrance. "Man's a beast. Seriously." He scrambled up to the driver's seat. "See you around."

Officer Trask offered Remy a sloppy salute. "See you."

.

Remy arrived back just in time to hear that they were going to go swimming at someplace called The Pit. After hearing about it and being assured by Jackson that it was safe enough, he was happy.

"Okay, everyone get their gear." Tony knew they'd been slacking and didn't mind but he did intend for all his pod to do some shallow water diving. Their gear included fins, masks, and snorkels. Everyone scrambled to change into swimming gear then get something back on over it.

Jackson watched as they checked everything, then got ready to leave.

Gibbs walked over to his father. "We'll pick up something to eat before we come back; you want me to bring you something?"

"I'll just microwave a dinner." Gibbs made a face. "Oh, don't give me that. I don't do it that often. I usually cook; but, once in a while, it's a lazy day. Now scat."

Gibbs grinned and scatted, mounting his motor and leading out.

The ride to the Pit only took a few minutes. They parked in what was obviously a well maintained gravel lot and got their gear. The walk to the actual pit was only about seventy-five feet.

The laughing group topped a small rise and realized that the rise was made of tailings from the nearby coal mine. The pit was what is usually called a clay pit, a hole that had been dug to get clay slurry that was used in the mining process. It had been abandoned in the late 1880's when different lubricants had been discovered. The water it now contained was clear and very cold. It was so clear that it was blue.

Tony nodded. "Gear up."

Everyone got out of their over clothing and put on fins and masks. Gibbs followed the rest, chuckling softly at the 'fin walk', the odd waddle forced on them from walking with swim fins on.

They waded out then slipped under the surface. Tim had snorkeled before so he just shoved the mouthpiece between his lips and started swimming. Jimmy had never, so Tony took a few minutes to explain the snorkel to him, then watched as he swam off. After he was sure that Jimmy was okay, Tony joined the pod and took the lead.

They swam several laps, then Tony gathered them in the middle of the pit. "Okay. We need a bit of diving practice. Remy, you and Jet. Cos, you and Jimmy. I'll pair with Tim. The rest of you just go down and explore a bit."

Gibbs proved to be a quick study. So did Tim, but for once Jimmy was having trouble. He just wasn't sure that the snorkel would keep the water out once he was submerged, so he was panting instead of breathing smoothly. Tony patiently coached him through diving and followed him down, keeping in his line of sight to reassure him that it was safe.

Gibbs found himself following Remy down to the bottom then back up again. He wondered what the point was, then realized that it didn't really make any difference; it was fun. He submerged again and started poking around in the rocks, just to find what kind of trash people had thrown in. Remy joined him and they enjoyed a few moments together, then Gibbs had to surface. Remy followed him.

"You okay?" Remy was concerned and showed it.

"Yeah. Just ran out of air." Gibbs drew in a deep breath.

"Okay. Need to build up your time a bit. Need at least five minutes to be able to get a good look around." Remy smiled when Gibbs just nodded and went under again.

Tim bobbed up next to Remy and spit out his mouthpiece to say, "I need to build up time. I can manage about two minutes." Remy stuck his mouthpiece back into his mouth and submerged without comment. Tim followed him.

Jimmy finally managed to go under and actually breathe through the snorkel, trusting it to keep the water out of the tube when it was completely submerged. He also went to the bottom to poke around amongst the rocks.

Tony checked on everyone, never realizing that he hadn't come up for air until Gibbs patted him on the shoulder, then grabbed his arm. Tony let Gibbs take him up then pulled his mask up. "Something?"

"Christ on a cracker, AJ. You okay?" Gibbs eyed Tony carefully.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Why?" Tony glanced at his watch.

"You were down a long time." Gibbs gave Tony a searching look.

"Only six minutes. That's about my limit when I'm active. I'm workin' on longer." Tony realized that he'd worried Gibbs by staying down so long.

"Oh, okay. Worried me a bit." Gibbs nodded, adjusted his mask and snorkel and went under again.

They swam around for a bit longer, poking into interesting things on the bottom, then Tony called them all out. "Okay, out. Warm up." This led them to the interesting practice of hugging a rock. The rocks were sun-warmed and felt good to the chilled men. Jimmy moved from one to the other, checking extremities and heart rates.

Tony called him over when he was done. "How is everyone?"

"Good. I want to listen to your lungs." Jimmy dropped his small bag on the ground and pulled out a stethoscope. Tony let Jimmy listen, breathing in and out on demand. "Well, sounds good. I don't want you getting a cold. Pneumonia will not do you any good."

"I know. Dry heat is good for me though." Tony made a face.

Jimmy chuckled. "But dust is not. Idiot."

"Geek."

Jimmy snorted. "Look who's talking, Mr. Multiple Masters in just about everything."

Tony held up his hands in defeat. "I give. More diving now."

They all waded back in to do more laps and a few more dives.

This time the exercise was interrupted by someone splashing into the pit from the top of the cliff.

Since sound waves travel through water just like they do air, everyone came to the surface to see what was going on. What they saw resulted in a flurry of activity. Whoever had jumped from the cliff had knocked himself out and he was now floating, face down, in the middle of the pit.

Tony flipped him onto his back, checked to see if he was breathing then began to tow him to the shore. Jimmy didn't bother to try to check the boy, he swam to the shore as quickly as he could and began to set up for triage. He was followed by Tim, Dean and Remy. Gibbs paced Tony in case he needed help. Cosmo took the other side of Tony. It only took a few seconds to get the boy to the shore.

They heard yelling from the top of the cliff and Gibbs replied in a DI bellow that carried like a bullhorn. "You get down here now. All of you. Someone call 9-1-1. Move it."

They heard a car start and running feet. Tony pulled his rescue out of the water and put him down on the beach. Jimmy was right there and started drowning procedures at once.

It wasn't long before the boy was coughing up water, gasping and choking. Jimmy rolled him into recovery position and put one hand on his shoulder. "Stay there. Blanket?" A girl rushed up with an old quilt and shoved it into Jimmy's groping hand.

Gibbs helped Jimmy get the boy upright and wrapped in the blanket. "What next?"

"Fire. Just a small one. He's chilled through and shocky." Jimmy glowered around. "Any of you lugnuts call 9-1-1?" Every single one of the group looked at someone else. "Okay. Dumbasses, the lot of you. Cos, call 9-1-1."

Cosmo found his phone and called. He gave the information and relayed that there was a physician on site but they didn't have much equipment. He was told that ETA was about ten minutes. He relayed that to Jimmy who just nodded.

Then they were surrounded by screaming, crying, chattering kids. Gibbs blew his top, followed by Tony.

"Shut the fuck up!" The shrill whistle that accompanied this caught everyone's attention. "Everyone calm down. An ambulance is on the way. Dr. Palmer is in charge until the EMTs arrive. Sit down, be quiet and get ready to make a statement."

A police cruised arrived seconds later and two officers got out. They hurried over to check on the boy, whose name turned out to be Frank.

"Okay, what's going on here?" The lady cop took charge of the kids, rounding them up and settling them on a nearby group of benches.

The other officer came to check on Frank. "Hi. Let me take a look here." He started the standard health checks, "I understand that one of you is a doctor? Of what?"

Jimmy nodded. "I am. Medicine." Jimmy went through vitals and all the other things that needed to be on Frank's chart. "I think he'll be okay. We got to him in good time and I started treatment at once. He was face down for no more than ten seconds and responded immediately to treatment. He needs oxygen and treatment to dry out his lungs." Jimmy had learned that nothing made a certain type of person impatient quicker than getting an explanation that didn't make sense to him—jargon-laden babble, in other words.

Officer Gladden nodded. "Any idea what the hell happened?"

Tony took over, leaving Jimmy to return to his patient. "Nope. We were diving, just messing around and looking at the bottom. There was a splash so we all surfaced. I saw him jelly-fishing and grabbed him. Hauled him to the shore, and Jimmy took over. Now you know as much as we do. I'd be asking that M.O.I. some pretty searching questions. I mean ... It's posted, man, no diving from cliff. So ... CDF is not so common. And, seriously, this is UFO, TARFUN. There isn't a BAG in the bunch. It's too bad that ignorance isn't painful. That bunch of NUB's needs a Number 10 sort-out."

Officer Gladden gave him a blank look, then said, "What service?"

Tony sighed. "Navy." He pointed to everyone and gave the officer their service. "And, if Gibbs finds out that someone threw him off and gets hold of them ... well, BDD will 2-6-10 'em. With prejudice."

When he noticed the expression on the officers face he explained. "MOI is mob of idiots. CDF, common dog fucker or common sense. UFO, Utterly Fucked Over. BAG, bad ass guy. NUB, Non-useful Body. Number 10 sort out, kick in the ass. BDD, big damn dog is Gibbs."

Officer Gladden nodded. "And I know 2-6-10." He scribbled notes quickly. "Where the hell is the ambulance?!" He contacted dispatch, listened then snarled, "No, bottom parking lot. Someone either jumped or was thrown off the cliffs." He went back to making notes, shaking his head.

Tony eyed Frank for a moment. "He'll be okay. I really think he just got a gut full of water and a nasty scare."

The lady cop, meanwhile, wasn't making much headway with the group of teenagers. All she'd gotten was that it was a birthday party for one of the girls and no one really had any idea how Frank had gotten from the park at the top of the cliffs, called unimaginatively, Cliff-top Park, and into the Pit.

Remy wandered over for lack of anything more intelligent to do and found himself face to face with the attendant from the gas station. "Hey! Evan? That your name?"

Evan nodded. "Yeah. What a mess. Carol and I got everything together, we saw you guys at the Pit and decided to go up top. There's plenty of room for everyone without us getting into your space. We set everything out and started ... you know, just fooling around. Then ... I went off with Carol for a bit. No ... nothing I couldn't tell her parents about, she's Christian and so am I, so get that look off your face, man." Remy shrugged and spread his hands. Evan smiled, "So anyway, next thing I know Bev is screaming her head off and we hear someone yell for us all to get down there now. And," he sighed, "here we are."

Remy glanced up as the ambulance finally showed. "Ambulance. Wonder if I should..." Remy looked at Jimmy who motioned for him to stay where he was. "Okay. So. What do you think happened?"

"Um ... Frank's not that much of a risk-taker, so someone had to push or throw him off. Bev would never. She's in the Army and really responsible. She's a teetotaller and doesn't drink at all, and ..." Evan frowned. "I don't remember seeing any beer, just some O'Douls."

Remy made a gagging sound. "How anyone can drink that horse piss is beyond me."

Evan shook his head. "I get a beer from my Dad now and then. He's all ...learn to drink responsibly, like a man should ... and all that." he frowned. "No one has the excuse of being drunk. Don't know who or why. Sorry."

Remy thought. "Well, we know a few things. No one was drinking. That's something."

Just then the ambulance took off with a rasp of gravel. Jimmy returned to the pod to wait for developments.

Officer Kelly Pride was a local, born and raised not a mile from The Pit. She was not a happy bunny right now. "Excuse me." The strange man and Evan both looked at her. "Sir, I'll have to ask you to return to your group." The man just stood and looked at her. "Sir."

"Yes?" Remy hated polite nothings with a passion and tended to ignore them. In this case it was easy as the officer hadn't asked him to do anything.

"I asked you to return to your group." Officer Pride sighed.

"No, you didn't. You said you'd have to but you never did." Remy looked down on the woman, an easy thing to do when you were 6'2" and the officer was around 5'7".

"Okay. Please return to your group and stay there."

Remy eyeballed her then wandered away.

Gibbs snorted, "They're never gonna get to the bottom of this. Too much pandering to tender teenaged angst and not enough investigation."

Tony nodded. "That's right. God forbid that someone actually do something. I remember."

Gibbs made a face. "Locals closing ranks against foreigners."

Tim scowled; his own memories were as sharp as his teammates'.

Sheriff Gantry arrived in his private truck. "Leroy."

"Ed."

"What the hell?" Ed Gantry and the Chief of Police always had a bit of a rivalry over this area. Part of it was in the county and part in the city. As it happened, the line went through the middle of the Pit, putting Cliff-top in the city and the Lower Lot in the county.

Gibbs gave him a quick rundown then said, "Need any help?"

Ed eyed the two cops then shrugged, "Up to you. Hear you're a great interrogator."

"I am." Gibbs nodded at one of the boys. "Wanna talk to him first."

Ed eyed him too. "Looks awful nervous." He caught the boy's eye and jerked his head. "Over here, Marty."

Marty got up, urged on by his friends. "Yeah?"

Ed just scowled at him while Gibbs sideoogled him, which made him even more nervous.

"You wanna tell me just exactly what you bunch a idjits were up to?" Gibbs barked at him.

Marty jumped a foot and turned to look at his friends. Sheriff Gantry ordered, "Look at me."

Marty turned to look at the sheriff while Gibbs glowered at the other teens. He turned to glower at Marty. "Okay, again. What were you up to?"

"Um ... we ... we ... Frank was always bragging how he'd dive off the cliffs, but it's against the law. Only it isn't." He scowled at his boots. "I checked."

Sheriff looked at him for a moment then offered, in an coldly controlled tone. "It's not. But it is against park rules."

Marty kicked a toe into the dirt. "Well. But it's not a law."

Gibbs smirked, "We're getting off the subject. What happened?" It seemed that he and Ed worked well together.

"Okay ... so ... um ... Arny and I―" the sheriff gave him a look. "Arnold Montrose. We decided to just ... throw him over. Grabbed him and pitched him off the cliff. Figured he'd have enough time to ... well, turn around and dive in." He took a deep shuddering breath. "We didn't mean to hurt him, just ... you know." He shrugged, staring at his feet.

"Yeah, I know. Dumbass." Gibbs sighed. "Chicken, in reverse, Ed."

The sheriff sighed. "Okay. We could bring them up on charges of assault. I'll have to speak with the Prosecutor." He turned to look at Marty. "And their parents."

Just then Officer Pride came over. "Well, I can't get shit out of any of them. Donald Henderson just pulled out the lawyer card. Wants his Dad." Gibbs made a questioning sound. "A lawyer."

Gibbs said, "Ah," then walked away. It was time to let Ed deal with his own dirty linen.

Tony, meanwhile, was getting the lowdown from Bev, Carol, and Evan. He decided to just let things go, as Evan and Carol had already called their parents. Bev was of age, but agreed with their father that she and Carol should come home. Evan nodded, saying, "We need to go back up top and get our stuff. Head on home and hang there until we find out how Frank is."

Tony glanced at Jimmy. "Gremlin?"

"He'll be okay. He got a lungful of water, but it's really clean. A breathing treatment or two, some antibiotic to ward off pneumonia, and he'll be fine. Don't worry," he smiled at Bev. "I'm sorry your birthday party was ruined."

Bev just grinned. "I don't care. I'm just happy to be off rotation and home."

Tony held out his hand. "Welcome home. Soldier?"

Bev recognized an officer when she saw one. "Sir. Yes, sir. Stationed out of ... um ... classified, sir." She shook his hand.

Tony laughed. "I understand. Just glad to see you home in one piece."

Bev smiled at Tony's laugh. "Sailor?"

"Yup. SEAL, believe it or not."

"Oh." Bev blinked. "Wow." She looked around, noticing that four other men held themselves in that particular way. "Gentlemen." She nodded to Tony.

A car pulled into the lot and a couple got out. They looked around, then hurried over to the group of boys. "No one say anything." The man then turned to Officer Pride. "Ok. Talk to me."

Officer Pride wasn't having any of that. "I'll write my report and give it to the Chief. He'll send you on one, if he feels you need it."

"What are the charges?" The man didn't seem like a lot of lawyers, he was quiet and polite.

"Nothing yet. And for this lot? Nothing. They haven't been drinking, didn't have anything to do with the event ... they did sort of close up. But ... I don't think there will be any charges. They didn't do anything wrong." She frowned at her book. "I'd just like to know what happened for real. Not all that dancing around they were doing."

Officers Pride and Gladden compared notes then went to speak to the sheriff.

Officer Gladden, as senior officer, consulted with the sheriff. "Well, we've got an assault, but no drunks or vandalism. I think our best bet is to call all the parents and let them deal."

Sheriff Gantry nodded. "My feelings exactly. I think Marty and Arny need to go to the Sheriff's Station or the Jail to wait. Give 'em something to think about."

Officer Pride nodded. "Good idea. Shame about Bev's welcome-home birthday bash though."

Sheriff Gantry just got out his phone and made some calls. The two officers returned to their car and headed off to the hospital to interview Frank.

Gibbs rubbed his face. "Damn, what a Charlie Foxtrot. Those kids, Marty and Arny? What the hell were they thinking?"

"Probably weren't. Nuts got in the way of brains." Ed looked down the short drive to the blacktop and grumbled, "Well, here come some of the parents. And a few rubber-neckers."

Gibbs nodded in the direction of the pod. "I can lend you DiNozzo and McGee. They have some experience in traffic control."

Ed snorted. "Won't need it, but thanks." He stomped off, yelling at the first car, "Out! Turn around and leave! No gawking." The car turned and moved back out the drive. The sheriff motioned to the next car to pull around the edge of the parking lot. "Park there." It didn't take him long to sort things out and get the gawkers on their way and the parents organized.

It was then a scene that the sheriff had seen many times. Parents berated their children, then found out that they hadn't done anything wrong and they had been called to comfort them, not yell at them. Then the hugging and crying began. And the thanking. Everyone wanted to thank the group for saving Frank. Gibbs managed to ease away and go sit on his motor. Cosmo joined him within five minutes with Dean right behind him. Tim endured tearful thanks from someone for something, managed to get away himself and went to hide in the john until the mess cleared; he was quickly joined by Jimmy. Tony and Remy simply faded into the nearby woods and circled back, taking their time.

The pod gathered back at their motors as soon as the lot was cleared. The only person still there was a sheriff's deputy who just nodded to them and watched as they packed up their gear, 'suited up' and rode away.

.

Jackson Gibbs liked to sit at his kitchen table and drink coffee and listen to the radio. He was listening when a news flash about a boy who nearly drowned came on the air. He listened with dismay and pride as the anchor told how a group of visitors had saved the local boy. Further news to follow.

He smiled into his cup as he realized that the brave men with military bearing were his son and friends. He wasn't a bit surprised to hear the rumble of motors as the men returned early from their swim. He wondered what he was going to do for supper.

Gibbs dismounted, put his helmet and leathers away and headed for the house. "Dad, we're home."

"I see that, Leroy, no need to shout. I'm just wonderin' what you boys want for supper." Jackson accepted the hug with pleasure. He had no idea what the heck it was for but he really didn't care. "Well, I was."

The rest of the pod followed Gibbs in, making it in the door in time to see the hug. They all smiled, or laughed. When Jackson turned around they were all snickering.

"Jackson, you're something else." Tony patted him on the shoulder. "We'll figure out something. What do you have?"

"Not much of anything. Best is to call down to Myrtle's Bar and Grill and get tenderloins."

They all jumped when the doorbell rang. Gibbs was twitchy so Jimmy answered the door, backed by Remy. The reporter who'd had nerve enough to try to interview them was startled to be faced, not with some ordinary man who would be delighted to speak to him, but by a hard-faced, no-nonsense person who didn't want anything to do with him.

Jimmy eyed the reporter and his microphone with disfavor. "Can I help you?" He blocked the door with his body. Remy backed him up.

"Yes. My name is John Smith from WKOR TV. I'd like to interview you and the gentleman who saved young Franklin Mathews." He started to push his way in.

"I did not invite you in. Get off the porch." Jimmy leaned on the door to keep the reporter from pushing in.

"I'm sure the brave men would like to speak to me." The reporter put on his best public smile.

"I'm sure we don't."

"The people have the right to know." This one usually worked and Mr. Smith was proud of that fact.

"Actually, they don't; the fallacy that the first amendment protects the right to pry into private business is exactly that, a fallacy. It only protects the press in their right to report on political issues. Get. Off. The. Porch." Jimmy was beginning to get annoyed and he didn't mind letting the reporter know it.

Mr. Smith, for his part, knew when to cut his losses and go away. Not far, but away. He turned to the camera and said, "Well, it seems that our heroes are a bit shy. We'll see if they'll speak to us a little later." He got off the porch and returned to his van. He was joined by two newspaper reporters, another TV channel, and a radio station intern who was hoping for his first story.

Jackson called the Police Station on the non-emergency line and asked for crowd control. Two cars showed up and told the reporters to clear the road. They also told them to stay off the lawns. This put them in the unenviable position of having no place to park on the narrow street, and they certainly were not going to be allowed to park on someone's lawn. They'd been run out of the lot across the street by the indignant owner who wanted to know if they thought it was a public parking lot. They finally had to leave, having no place to park.

Jackson looked out his window then said, "Put down the blinds and pull the curtains. I called for food while all this was going on. Hope you all like tenderloins an' fries. Had Jamie bring a case of beer too." He shook his head. "The nerve of some folks."

It wasn't long before there was another knock at the door. This one was a bit tentative, as if the knocker wasn't sure anyone was home. Remy answered the door with Cosmo as backup; no one was answering the door alone, not with that pack of hyenas outside. And the back door was locked for the first time in forty years, or more. Gibbs and Dean had had a time getting the lock to work at all. A squirt of DW-40 hadn't done the job.

The boy at the door was holding a brown paper bag with grease spots on it, and a cooler. Remy took the bag off the top of the cooler and handed it off to Dean. He took the cooler and motioned to Gibbs. "Pay the man, will you?"

Gibbs nodded and went to the door. "What do we owe?"

The delivery boy was decidedly nervous. "Um ... nothing ... sir ... um ... my boss said that it was free, as Frank is some sort of relative or other." He gulped, then motioned to the street. "And ... you ought to call ... someone. The street is blocked by all sorts of ... idiots. I rode in on my scooter, so it wasn't a problem for me, but no one in a car or anything can get through."

Gibbs handed the boy some money and said, "Take it. You went to a lot of trouble to get here and tell your boss thanks. Ok?"

"Sure. And thanks for the tip. It'll really come in handy for gas money. I'm tryin' to save up for college and every bit helps." He eyed the street for a moment. "I really hate going back through that mess. Every single one of them tried to stop me and ask idiot questions." He sighed. "Damn."

Gibbs nodded. "You know the back way. Use it. No one's gonna say anything."

The boy nodded. "Thanks. Enjoy your food. Bye." He hurried down the steps and got on his scooter; he looked around then drove around the corner of the house and putted up a footpath and disappeared.

They all gathered in the kitchen. Remy started handing out sandwiches and realized that the smallest one was the size of a dinner plate. Jackson snickered at his expression and said, "One of you boys get the mustard and pickles out of the fridge. And there's more buns in the breadbox. I'm sure we'll need a few extra."

Dean opened his sandwich to see what was on it. "Naked, thank the PTB. I hate having to scrape ketchup off something."

Tony agreed that tenderloins didn't need ketchup or mayo as he cut his into quarters. "I swear there should be a law, or something. There needs to be enough bread for the ... whatever. Fries?"

Remy nodded. "Yeah." he rummaged in the bag. "Oh. And packets of ... stuff." He dumped a handful of restaurant packs of mustard, mayo, ketchup and hot sauce onto the table.

The group happily cut their tenderloins into more manageable pieces, put them on buns and added mustard and pickles. Fries were dumped onto a platter, since Jackson said he didn't care how clean a table was, food belonged on a plate. Plates were handed round and they all began to eat.

Jackson had just taken a bite of his food when the phone began to ring. Tony was nearest and didn't have a mouthful, so he answered it. "Gibbs residence." He listened for a moment, then said, "No comment. Do not call here again." He hung up, then put the handset down beside the phone. "TV station. The idiot demanded a statement."

Jackson sighed. "They're not gonna give up, you know."

Tim nodded. "They probably won't. I could publish a statement on this board I have access to, but I'm not sure it'll do any good."

Gibbs thought while he chewed, he swallowed then said, "Give it a try. When we're done eating, I'll call the police. See if they can't get those trucks out of the street. People are gonna start complainin' that they can't get through."

The phone soon rang again. This time it was a radio station; the sound man was very glad for the three-second delay the owner insisted on. Dean slammed the phone down and demanded, "Who the hell put that damn thing back on the hook?"

Cosmo shamefacedly held up his hand. Dean gave him a look. "Sorry."

They were just finishing up their fries when someone knocked on the door. Jackson snarled, "If that's another one of those sons a bitches, kick 'em off the porch."

It turned out it was the Chief of Police. He nodded to the group. "Jackson. Leroy. Gentlemen. Got a problem and I don't know what to do about it."

Jackson motioned to the kitchen. "Come in an' take a load off." He led the way and settled at the head of the table.

The chief took the foot and Tony and Gibbs sat too. The rest of the pod settled around the kitchen counters, leaning here and there.

Gibbs eyed the man for a moment. He didn't know him, as he was another import from upstate. Nothing wrong with that; it just meant that Gibbs wasn't familiar with him. "Okay, what's the problem, and how can we help?"

The chief sighed. "The news media has worked itself into a frenzy. They're determined to find out everything about all of you and they're making a real nuisance of themselves. They're bothering the neighbors, blocking the streets, and frying the airwaves. They're even messing up the police radios somehow."

Tim cleared his throat. "Long story short. The satellite dishes they use can mess up all sorts of things. Your radios, TV signals, phones. You name it. And the only thing you can do is call the FCC and complain."

Chief Willard sighed, "The other thing I can do is ask you all to leave town until this mess blows over. And I hate to. You're not doing anything wrong; in fact, you're heroes. But it's causing all sorts of trouble." He took the mug of coffee he was offered, took a sip, then sat, staring into the coffee with a disgusted expression on his face.

Jackson nodded. "Okay, boys, we take a vote. All in favor of takin' off." He raised his hand. "I'm goin' down to Orangeville. I'll stay with Stan Barnwell for a couple of days. He's Jan Barnwell's younger brother. You remember him, Leroy?"

Gibbs did. "Yeah. He was the man who took us fishin' in his own trout stream. Nice guy."

"He's passed, but his brother ... Stan is the youngest, while Jan was the oldest ... Stan took over the place. Got a standing invitation. Think I'll take him up on it." Jackson looked around and knew he'd made the right decision; all the boys looked relieved. "I'll lock the place up. Just hope none of those news hounds decide to break in and have a look-see. And I'll call Mrs. Owens again, she'll keep store for me."

Tony took vote by eye and said, "We'll all go too. No sense in tryin' to have any fun with everyone gawkin' and whisperin'. We go to bed soon, get up real early and head out."

Dean suddenly let out a yelp. "The motors. We completely forgot. They're just out there behind the house. If someone's messed with them I'll ..."

There was a concerted rush to the back door. Everyone piled out in a stack, spreading out to present the smallest grouping. Chief Willard admired their organization and told Jackson. "Man, they are good."

Jackson nodded. "They are. My boy, Leroy, was a Marine, those four are SEAL's and the other two are NCIS." The chief nodded his understanding and they watched as the group cleared the area and secured the motors, moving them closer to the back porch. They also locked the garage to secure Jackson's truck. Tony then set Cosmo and Dean to watch their vehicles and the garage for the first watch. He and Remy would take the second and Gibbs, father and son, would take third, since they would be up anyway.

"Okay, that's that. We'll head out at 0600." Gibbs scowled. "Dad, any food that needs something done with it?"

"No. There's some eggs, but they'll keep. I was plannin' on sendin' one of you boys out for more in the morning." He eyed the light that flashed across his windows. "Willard, do something about that. I'm goin' to bed." He stomped off, muttering darkly.

Tony scowled. "Yes, Chief, I'd do something about that PDQ, or I'll take care of it."

Chief Willard sighed, "Don't doubt that for a second." He left, hitching his equipment belt up in irritation.

They could hear him yelling at the spot-lighter as he left. They also heard his bull horn instructing the vehicles blocking the thoroughfare that they were all going to be ticketed if they weren't gone in ten minutes and not to return.

.

The next morning was organized chaos, Gibbs woke Tony, who woke everyone else. While Tony was getting everyone else up, Gibbs made coffee. Jackson called Mrs. Owens and made arrangements; he also called Stan Barnwell, who'd already heard about the mess and was delighted to host Jackson for as long as necessary.

They were up, had coffee, and were on their way by 0630.

It only took them a couple of minutes to get their gear into the saddle bags and trunks. The trailer had been left packed up. Jackson tossed his suitcase into the bed of his truck and got in.

Remy rolled the door back and Jackson pulled out. Remy then closed the door and padlocked it.

Everyone got their gear on, checked radios and started up.

Gibbs nodded to Tony. Tony pumped his fist in the air and said, "Okay, head out. Fast."

The sudden roar of motors woke the few neighbors who were still sleeping. Four tons of American heavy metal in the embodiment of six Harleys, a bastard trike, and a half-ton Ford truck rumbled out of the drive, building up speed all the way. They took a hard left and headed for the highway, blowing past the hovering news vans with utter disdain.

There was a scramble to try to catch up with them, but it failed from the start. By the time anyone actually managed to do anything, the group was out of sight.

Tony asked Jackson, "Gramps, you want in the lead?"

"No, I'm okay right here." Jackson was in the back of the rumble. "I'm gonna peel off in about six miles; short cut. You won't want to go my way; it's mostly blacktop and gravel."

Remy chimed in, "You do realize that we're goin' about 90, right?"

Gibbs snorted. "So?"

Dean added, "You really think the Sheriff or the Highway Patrol are gonna bother us?"

Tim, comfortably seated behind Jimmy, said, "Probably not. I bet they all just want us gone."

They were all amused to see a Highway Patrol car pace them for a bit. The patrolman didn't try to stop them; in fact, just before he dropped back, he waved to them.

Jackson reached his turnoff. "How am I gonna get your gear back to you?"

Tim replied, "Don't bother. You'll need it again. Bye."

Gibbs eased off the gas to give Jackson one last look at them "Bye, Dad. Email me so I can practice."

"Okay. And I'll email the rest of you too. Got your addies from Tim. You all take care of each other. Bye." And he took his turn, leaving them to increase their speed back to the legal limit and continue on their way home.

{not sure that there's much more to say. Next story starts about two days later. It's my NaNo. *G*}

PD - Psychological Dominance

The Salmon Ladder is and exercise rack made popular by its appearance on the TV show Arrow. You can see it in action by googling it on YouTube.

[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 happen in real life.

Number 10 sort out. - kick in the ass

2-6-10 - it will take two surgeons six hours to take his number 10 boot out of his ass.