Stillwater, Pennsylvania
13 June, 2005
'Son, you can stay here today, ya don't have to help out at the store.'
Jethro shook his head, pulling on his tennis-shoes and tying the laces, 'What else m'I gonna do?'
'Sleepin' comes to mind. Eat, you've barely eaten and ya been here two days.'
'I'm fine and I have been eating.'
'I said barely eatin', not that you haven't been, but if ya insist on workin' I won't stop ya.'
He nodded his head, silently thanking the man for not pushing and allowing him to just be for the time being. He'd had a rough last few months overseas, rough deployment if he really thought about it and he just wanted to get away from the guns and violence for a while and the Director didn't really complain too much.
XXX
"Boss, I'm twenty minutes out, there's some guys on their way up there and lets just say, it's not for a social visit. Get you and your dad someplace safe.'
He scrambled to his car for the two weapons he had in there and jogged back to the store, 'How far out are they?'
"Ten minutes."
'Damnit, I don't have enough time. When you get here, go to the store, make sure you have back-up.'
"Will do, Gibbs, watch your six."
As he moved through the front entrance of the store, he locked the door behind him, ignoring his father's questioning look as he pushed the heavy wooden table up against the entryway. He then locked the back entrances and blocked them with an old filing cabinet.
'Leroy, what's goin' on!?'
Before he could answer, a black SUV rolled up in front of the store, three men stepping out of the vehicle with heavy fire-arms. Jehtro jumped across the counter and pulled his dad down, stretching himself wide and shielding the other man from incoming bullets, shattered glass and wood shards.
Once the first round was over, Gibbs made sure his secondary weapon was loaded and then handed it to his father, who jerked on his arm, pulling him back to his side.
He saw the panicked look on Jackson's face and he squeezed his hand, 'Works the same as grandad's old Colt. If it comes down to it, just aim and fire.'
Apparently that wasn't what had him all worked up, besides the loud gunfire and a weapon he hadn't used in fifty years being forced into his hand, he saw the blood oozing from his son's arm and he saw how Leroy used his body as a shield in hopes to save him from any harm.
'Your arm.' Was all he could get out.
Jethro looked down, seeing the graze and shook his head, 'I'll be fine. I'll be fine, I promise, dad.'
Popping up over the counter, he sent some shots out towards where the men were standing, not trying to hit them, at least not yet, just trying to see where they were.
Suddenly his head snapped backward, blood burning his right eye and he realized a bullet must've grazed his head. He collapsed to the floor, propping himself up against the wall. His father scrambled to his side, grabbing one of the rags from the shelf and pressing it against his head.
'Remember when your mama said you had a lucky streak?' Jethro nodded minutely, 'Probably not what she was thinkin', but I'm startin' to see it now.'
He took a moment to gather his bearings and try to at least see straight with one eye, but he didn't have time to rest, the men were attempting to break down the door and get into the shop.
He placed his finger over his lip and shushed his father's comforting words. Luckily the old man got the hint and quieted instantly.
Tick
Tock
Tick
Tock
The only thing that could be heard in the store was the old clock hanging up on the wall - how it had managed to survive the earlier onslaught of bullets he will never know.
He ducked when the men began to fire again, solely at the door and he knew they were trying to get in.
While they were distracted, he turned around the edge of the counter, waited for the big guy up front to lean forward again and then he fired off two shots, watching as the man fell and his colleagues panic at the surprise attack.
Jethro and his father watched as one man went around the back of the building, most likely wanting to surround them, just as the lanky one managed to push the table out and bully his way into the store.
He waited as he rounded the counter and he made a grab for his leg, hoping to keep at least one alive so they could question him.
'Leroy!' He heard his father's panicked cry, but he ignored it and yanked the guy down, knocking the weapon from his hand.
They continued to grapple for a moment, both managing to get to their feet. Lanky landed a hard blow to Jethro's right side, but he kicked out and knee-capped him.
He heard something being pulled from a sheath and he growled under his breath when Lanky brought a knife into the mix.
He blocked a few of the man's attempts, earning some cuts along the way, but nothing too serious. Jethro sent a sharp undercut to the man's ribs and he dropped his weapon, scrambling for it, he put a knee in the man's back and ripped the knife across his throat, inevitably ending his life.
Dropping the blade, he grabbed his discarded gun and went to get his father, hoping maybe they killed enough time to get out of the store without having to face the last guy, but it seemed he had other plans as they heard the filing cabinet crash and the man's footsteps.
'I know you're in there, Gibbs!'
'There's two, which one do you want?'
He gave Jackson a look, but despite the circumstances he found the retaliation funny, but of course their last bad guy didn't.
"I'm gonna rip you apart, limb from limb, Gibbs. And I'll make your daddy watch, then I'll gut him just like I did you.'
Jethro grit his teeth against a reply, not wanting to give away his position. Moving around the far side of the counter, towards the back room, he squeezed the weapon tightly.
He only pushed forward another step before the man popped around the door frame; a sick smile on his face. He aimed the weapon in Gibbs' direction and fired a large spray of bullets, landing their respective target.
'Leroy!'
His father cried out and when he took in the sight in front of him, he had never felt that much rage before. In that moment, watching his boy fall, he learned the true meaning of seeing red. So, the eighty year old man stood up from the counter, waiting for the man who did this to his son to show his face.
And that was when their attacker learned of his vital mistake, you never hurt his boy and lived to tell the tale.
Then Jackson fired seven of the ten rounds. Almost every bullet landed center mass. Through the adrenaline haze, he didn't feel one of the stray bullets hit him in the shoulder, he was too numb.
He sat by his son's side, looking over the gaping wounds and pool of blood. He could only think of the worst.
Pulling Jethro to him, he held his only son in his lap, one arm wrapping around his shoulders and attempting to press against the wounds, his free hand still holding the gun in a death grip.
'Leroy?'
'Oh God, Leroy.' He still lay motionless, his own blue eyes staring up at him lifelessly.
Jackson felt tears stinging to corners of his eyes and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop them. So, he sat there, running a bloodied hand through his son's dark hair, praying to God that he would live, that he wouldn't leave him alone.
And suddenly everything began fading away, the sinking grief, the heartbreak and the pain. Jackson slowly faded, the sound of sirens and streaking tires all but a distant memory.