AN: definitely not canon!

I was going to add this to my 'When Tony Met Gibbs' series but it will be too long to fit there ...

Gunnery Sergeant Jethro Gibbs' eyes narrowed slightly as he surveyed the mourners at the funeral of his wife and daughter. His emotions were barely in check but, determined not to break down in front of the well-meaning people who surrounded him, he was taking refuge in an instinctive monitoring of his surroundings, trying almost to imagine himself back at work as a sniper assessing danger points.

Gibbs' eyes briefly settled on his father and his 'date', but this led to an unwelcome upsurge of bitter anger and he looked into the distance once more. He knew he was, to say the least, unsettled and easily irritated so the sight of a teenaged boy standing on the edge of the crowd, dressed in sneakers and jeans offended him more than it would have normally. Jethro wasn't the sort of person to stand much on ceremony, but the presence of this scruffy lad was out of place among the respectably dressed mourners. The boy seemed to sense the disapproval and patted at his hair to try and make it flat.

The sight of the two coffins, however, brought Gibbs' attention back to the grim reality that was his life now. He had experienced loss before with the death of his mother and numerous fellow Marines, but nothing had prepared him for the devastating pain of the loss of Shannon and Kelly leaving him adrift in a featureless dead landscape of despair: he could see no prospect of finding his bearings again and, at that moment, had no wish to find them. Gibbs could not imagine life without his girls.

Now, his training kicked in and he listened without really hearing, as the Camp Pendleton padre spoke the familiar words of the funeral service: he couldn't afford to listen properly as the words might have robbed him of any composure. The words stopped and there was an expectant silence: Gibbs realised that they were waiting for him to throw the first handful of earth on to the coffins. For a moment, Gibbs felt that was impossible: doing so would somehow confirm the finality of what had happened.

"Leroy," came Jackson Gibbs' voice, "Do you want me to help?"

Gibbs had had many fallings out with his father, but Jackson had never before received a look of such contempt from his son. Gibbs straightened his shoulders and walked briskly to where the coffins were waiting and then took a handful of earth and did what was necessary. Then he turned smartly and walked away, suddenly unable to bear the thought of waiting to receive the faltering good wishes and commiserations of others. He strode towards the ocean which he instinctively felt might offer some comfort. The other mourners could do without him at the reception which had been arranged: the thought of food nauseated him, and he knew both that he could do without the banalities which would be uttered there and that he might lose it if anyone dared to laugh as so often happened at wakes. Jackson, he thought, would do it better and might even enjoy it. He ignored the cry of "Leroy" as he walked away.

XXXXXX

Some hours later, Gibbs returned to the house where he had lived so briefly with Shannon and Kelly. Watching the waves pound against the uncaring beach had brought him some small measure of calm but he hoped that nobody had decided to wait for him at the house.

Shannon had been delighted to find the little house just a couple of miles from Camp Pendleton: they had lived on base before but this time, with her husband facing a longer deployment, she decided she wanted to live outside. Perhaps she was already beginning to plan what life would be like when Jethro eventually left the Corps: Gibbs had never asked her and now, with a familiar wave of bitterness, he realised he never could.

The house seemed to retain some essence of Shannon and Kelly: not just because their possessions were still strewn around but because even the way the furniture was arranged seemed to scream something about Shannon. Gibbs looked around bleakly as he tried to imagine packing all this up, possibly disposing of the things that his girls would never need again. Despair rushed in once more and he finally gave voice to the roar of uncomprehending anguish he had been holding in all day. Feeling an irresistible urge to smash something he snatched up the nearest object and threw it to the ground and then realised it was the mug Kelly had bought him for his last birthday: the words 'Best Dad in the World' lay in pieces in the dust before him. Tears came at last and he sank to the floor and clasped the shards in his hands.

Hours later, Gibbs woke up and looked around him; he realised he must have sobbed himself to sleep on the floor still clutching the remains of the mug. He was about to hoist himself up when he heard a sound and decided that must be what had woken him up. Instinct kicked in and he froze as he tried to locate the source of the sound; moments passed, and he decided that there was someone coming down the stairs.

In a second, he was on his feet and running towards the intruder. The street light outside gave enough illumination for him to see a slight figure making its way to the door. His 'visitor' had heard his steps and, abandoning stealth, raced to the exit but Gibbs was too fast for him and grabbed his arm and prevented him leaving.

"Who the hell are you?" Gibbs demanded. He hit the light switch so he could see who he was dealing with, "You!" he exclaimed as he identified the teenager from the funeral, "What are you doing here?"

"Let go!" came the indignant reply, "You're hurting me!"

Gibbs didn't let go but rather shook the arm he was holding, "Who are you? And what are you doing in my house?"

"it's my stuff," said the boy sulkily.

Gibbs' outrage turned to fury as he saw the bag the lad was carrying and he realised that the boy had been rifling through Shannon and Kelly's things. "Drop it!" he ordered.

The boy reluctantly let go of the duffel.

Gibbs shook his arm again, "I asked you a question," he bellowed, "Who are you!"

"I'm Tony … Tony DiNozzo. I didn't mean any harm, I just came to get my stuff!"

"Liar!" shouted Gibbs in a frenzy of anger and grief. "Liar!"

"I'm not lying! It's my stuff. Shannon …"

"What!"

"I mean, Mrs Gibbs … she let me …"

"Get out!" roared Gibbs. "Get out! Now!"

"OK, I'm going," said Tony bending to pick up the bag.

"Leave that! You're not taking anything from here … now go …"

"But …"

"But nothing. Go now or I'll call the police. D'you hear?" Gibbs shook the boy again and, even through the red mist of his emotions, was struck by the mixture of sadness and resignation in his eyes.

"All right, I'm going. But I wanted to say …"

"I don't want to hear it," yelled Gibbs. "Get out!" He swung the front door open and shoved Tony through it. "And don't come back! Ever!" He watched as Tony walked defiantly out of the yard. When he got to the sidewalk, Tony turned and called,

"I liked Shannon … and Kelly. They weren't mean like you!" And with that parting shot, he ran towards the beach.

Gibbs growled with anger and stalked back into the house where he sank exhausted on to the couch.

XXXXXX

Gibbs thought about beginning the task of clearing the house the next day but was constantly distracted by the memories surrounding him. The mail arrived while Gibbs was looking through one of Kelly's schoolbooks, but he was in no mood to be dictated to by the outside world, so he carried on reading until he reached the last page,

"A+ always," he whispered. He thought he could hear Shannon's indulgent laugh and Kelly's half-hearted protest at his absurdity and the tears came to his eyes once more.

When his vision cleared, Gibbs saw that the mailman had left a bundle of letters. He picked them up lethargically and noticed that there were some sympathy cards, an official looking letter from Camp Pendleton and … a letter from Shannon. Gibbs threw the rest of the mail to the ground and stared at the letter in disbelief. For a moment or two, he thought that somehow Shannon was still alive and that the previous few days had been some sort of nightmare but then he realised that the letter had been redirected back from Kuwait and had been sent to him while he was still deployed.

With shaking hands, he sat down on the stairs and tore the letter open,

My dearest Jethro,

Please don't be angry with me … and I know – I can almost hear you saying it – that I'm a sucker for a hard luck story and that I shouldn't keep picking up strays but well, I've done it again! But I think you would've done the same. And I think Tony's a good boy.

Gibbs looked up in shock. Tony? He bent to the letter again.

Kelly and I found Tony sleeping on the beach when we went for an early morning walk. Did you know that your daughter has developed a passion for collecting seashells? Well, she has, and she insists that the best ones are found early in the morning. I guess I'm so grateful that something gets her up in the morning that I go along with it. I reckon Kelly's already like a teenager how she won't get up in the morning – who do you think she gets that from? Anyway, she'll get up to look for seashells so I'm taking that as a positive.

So, we were walking on the beach when we saw this boy asleep. I was about to walk past but there was something odd about it. I could tell he'd been there for some time – you know, he hadn't just been walking along and fallen asleep. And he had this duffel bag he was using as a pillow. I hope you're proud of me, Jethro – I thought that was very observant of me!

So, he seemed to sense us standing there staring at him because he woke up. In a bad mood! He's got some things in common with our daughter. I asked him if he was OK and he insisted that he was, and I was about to walk on when his tummy rumbled.

You know I can't bear to see a child hungry and so I turned into mommy bear and insisted he tell me what was going on. He was stubborn and didn't want to tell me, but I wore him down in the end. He was at Wilderness Camp at Lake Elsinore – Jethro, what we will do when Kelly wants to go to Camp? I'm not sure I want to be away from her … Anyway, he was at this camp when there was a sickness bug and they had to close the camp and send the kids away.

Tony had chummed up with another boy who lives in San Clemente and his folks invited him to stay with them until he could contact his father about what to do. Jethro, the poor boy didn't know where his father was … and didn't have enough money for the fare back to New York where their home is. I really don't want Kelly to go to camp – although I guess we wouldn't leave her not knowing where we are. So, Tony came to San Clemente but the family he was staying with went on vacation and couldn't take Tony with them. Reading between the lines, I think Tony pretended that he'd been in contact with his Dad who'd arranged a hotel for him. He didn't want to admit that he was all alone.

So Jethro, really, I didn't have any choice but to bring him back for something to eat … and then, I couldn't bear to send him away. He didn't have anywhere to go, he needed someone to care for him … someone to care about him. It won't be for long, I promise. I'm helping him find his Dad. Kelly likes him and, trust my instinct – my gut! – he's a good boy and he's no trouble. Well, most of the time although he and Kelly get up to some mischief when my back's turned. But he's good for her: she laughs more since he came than she has since you went away.

Oh, Jethro, we miss you very much. We love getting your letters and are counting down the days till you're back with us.

Much love – as always,

Your Shannon.

The letter fell from Gibbs' hands as he realised that he'd driven Tony – the last object of Shannon's care – out of the house. His grief and anger were momentarily swamped by a feeling of shame as he pictured how hurt Shannon would have been at his actions.

Gibbs snatched up the precious letter once more and, grabbing his jacket and keys, set off to find Tony.