Disclaimer: NCIS is not mine. I'm just borrowing the concepts and characters for a little while.

Spoilers: nothing specific but contains information gained through to the end of season 10.

A/N: This takes place some undisclosed November in the future.

Warning for potential triggers: For particulars, please see the note at the end of the chapter.

Warning: You might also want to grab a box of tissues…

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Chapter One: A Time for Every Matter

Of course, on the day I'm supposed to meet my dad for a late lunch, Team Gibbs catches a case.

Up until the year that Dad had nearly been framed for murder, it had been more than a decade since the two of us had last celebrated any sort of holiday together. The past several years though, my father has been getting better at not only staying in touch with me, but occasionally setting aside time in his busy schedule to visit. Unfortunately, and much too often, Dad and I would make plans only to have something come up – usually one of his business deals and, oddly enough, only rarely my job.

Gibbs seems to be really supportive of my attempts to reconnect with my dad, and is usually there for me when those attempts fail. I'm still trying to get used to my boss and mentor being nice to me like that. To be honest, it still creeps me out a bit, though I try not to let it show anymore.

A few weeks ago, my father proposed getting together for Thanksgiving this year, but five days later he let me know that his plans had changed. Due to a business deal going down on the West Coast over the holiday weekend, he couldn't make it for dinner. I had been pretty much expecting this to happen despite the fact that I had asked for the time off, but then Dad surprised the hell out of me by asking if we could meet for an early Thanksgiving celebration instead.

I was happy that my old man was making an effort, but I was still wary that something was going to happen. The plan was to meet for a relaxing meal this afternoon, but that doesn't seem possible anymore. Gibbs may have been okay with me taking a half a day off yesterday when there wasn't a Marine's murder to be solved, but today our new case takes precedence.

It seems par for the course in our father-son relationship that my dad and I can't ever seem to be even remotely in sync about anything. When we plan to meet, one or the other of us has to cancel for one reason or another. When he makes a surprise visit, something usually goes wrong. When I call, he can't talk. When he calls, I usually spend the majority of our conversation trying not to be conned into investing in his latest business scheme. More often than not, the only things we speak about are surface things; rarely do we spend any time talking about anything important or try to make up for lost time.

On the whole though, our relationship is the best it's been in decades. Even if we aren't always discussing the important stuff, at least we're still talking, which is a vast improvement over the years of silence between us when I was younger. If I'm very lucky, and he's had enough Macallan 18, I can sometimes get him to reminisce about his parents or his childhood. If I'm very, very lucky, sometimes he'll even mention something about my mom. Those nights are few and far between, but they are some of the best hours I've ever spent with him.

Even though he tries to hide it, I can always tell those memories are bittersweet for him, especially those about my mother. She was taken from us way too soon, and he just couldn't cope with being on his own raising a young child. I spent many years harboring resentment towards him for dumping me into summer camps and boarding schools, for disowning me, and for practically ignoring me for the majority of my life.

However, as an adult, I can better understand why he was like that, why he couldn't be the father I wanted and need him to be, and it has taken time, but I have finally forgiven him. Getting to know him again the last few years as an adult has been challenging but more than worth the effort.

I look at the time on my computer screen; it's only a few minutes before I was supposed to leave to meet with my dad, but there's no way I can go now. I've tried several times to reach him on his cell, even directly calling his hotel room, but he's not answering that phone either.

He's probably getting a massage and has turned his phone's ringer off. A massage or he's in the business center working – that has to be it. However, my gut seems to be disagreeing with my perfectly logical reasons for him not picking up the phone and I'm starting to feel uneasy.

I'm trying to do my part on the new case, but am having a difficult time concentrating on gathering the background information Gibbs wanted me to find on PFC Stone's family and friends. I'm supposed to be helping to find out who killed a promising young soldier, but instead I'm worrying about why I haven't gotten through to my dad on his cell phone. In between fits of information gathering on the case, I try to get a hold of him, but he has yet to answer any of my calls. I've lost track of how many messages I've left for him to call me back.

He's usually wakes up pretty early every day, and more times than not he calls to make sure I'll still be able to get away from the job, but today he hasn't yet made contact. It's not like him and I'm getting more than a little bit concerned.

I try once more to get a hold of him, but after the usual number of rings it goes to voice mail, which means his phone is definitely on. I let my pen slip out of my fingers and watch it drop to my desktop before rubbing my hands over my face in frustration and worry. Unfortunately, the worry doesn't abate nor does it help me to focus.

Even though I know Gibbs will skin me alive if I don't have anything for him when he comes back to the bullpen from Autopsy, I pick up my cell phone to trying calling my dad in case he's not picking up because he doesn't recognize my work number.

I'm about to hit the speed dial for dad's number, when Gibbs suddenly appears in the bullpen and exclaims, "DiNozzo!"

Startled, my body snaps to attention and I fumble my phone as if it were a hot coal before dropping it to my desk. With a shrug and a sheepish smile, I reply, "Yeah, Boss?"

"Why are you still here?"

"Boss? Uh, why—? Why wouldn't I be here? Don't you remember—? I'm working on gathering intel on PFC Stone… What am I saying? Of course you remember, you told me to do it in the first place. It's not like you're suddenly too old…to…"

I trail off nervously and chuckle while subconsciously reaching up to rub the back of my head as if it had been slapped. Sometimes, I really wish I could keep my mouth from running away from me.

Somehow in the time I've taken to do that the Boss has planted himself in front of my desk. He knows I'm supposed to have lunch with my dad, but surely he doesn't want me to leave in the middle of a case? But, from the glare he's giving me, I guess I am supposed to leave in the middle of a case.

I quirk an eyebrow and keep my eyes locked with Gibbs', silently asking 'Are you sure?'

He responds by jerking his head towards the elevator while ordering, "Go."

I can't help the big smile that takes over my face as I say, "Thanks, Boss."

Amongst protests from McGee and Ziva, I grab my gear in case Gibbs needs me while I'm out and dash towards the elevator. The need to get to where my dad is staying keeps growing more and more insistent.

On the drive over to the Adams Hotel, I try several more times to reach my father on the phone, but to no avail. So, by the time I arrive, I'm worried enough that I throw my keys to the valet and rush into the hotel intending on taking the stairs all the way up if there's not an elevator to take me straight to his floor.

Fortunately, there was an elevator and I was its only passenger. As I approached his room, I saw the 'Do Not Disturb' sign still stuck in the card-key lock – something else that wasn't normal for my dad. I briefly hesitate to knock, thinking that he could possibly be entertaining a woman in his room. My gut overrides that thought after a bare moment of consideration, and I pound on his door, but after a minute he doesn't answer. I try again and again, but there's still no answer and I've now gone beyond worried and am heading straight towards panic.

I knock once again before moving towards the maid working on cleaning rooms at the other end of the hall. I flash my badge and beg her to allow me access to my dad's room explaining that I'm concerned for his well-being. She must have seen something in my face because she hurried back with me to his suite and used her all-access key. I thank her and promptly forget her as I quickly push my way through the now open door where I'm confronted by a darkened sitting room.

My dad's room being dark at this hour causes a warning klaxon to go off in my head. It turns my worry to dread in an instant as I call out for him. Silence is my answer as I hurry towards his bedroom door. Opening the door, I start to call out his name, but my throat seizes when I'm confronted with a sight I never thought I'd see; it's a sight that no child is ever prepared to see.

From the way he's lying in his bed, the unnatural position, I just know he's already gone. But, regardless of the evidence before my eyes, I grab his shoulder to try and wake him up. Despite the cold skin I felt under the sleeve of his t-shirt, I still try checking his pulse. Not caring that it was already too late, I still call his name, trying one more time to get him to answer me. The thing is that he won't be answering me ever again.

My dad is…

My mind refuses to finish that thought. No. It can't be. My father can't be… I just spoke to him last night. He was fine. We had a quick, but good conversation with no arguments for a change. We were meeting for lunch today. There's no way he's… It's not possible he's… No!

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"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven." ~~ Ecclesiastes 3:1(ESV)

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To be continued.

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A/N: I started this story not too long after my own father's passing late last year, but it's only been in the last week or so that I have been able to bring myself to finish the rest of it. Thanks for reading…

Trigger Warning (Spoiler): Minor character death (natural causes) with a non-graphic description of the finding of the body.