RIP, Jackson Gibbs

One is never prepared for the loss of a loved one.

~unknown~

Gibbs was sitting on the sofa with his feet up as he thought about his weekly phone call to his father the night before. Jackson had seemed out of sorts, but Gibbs couldn't quite put his finger on the problem. Something about his nagging cough and dull responses had Gibbs' gut pinging. He considered taking a few days of emergency leave, but they were already down one agent, not to mention training a very new newbie and the current case was starting to heat up. Before he could come up with a solution, his cell phone rang, the caller ID showing the name of his absent agent.

Hey, Boss.

"Hey, McGee, how's it going? You all ready to testify?" Through an odd quirk of fate McGee had become involved in a civilian case hundreds of miles away in Rochester, New York, when he'd cracked the encryption on a suspect's laptop. Forwarding the information had resulted in the rescue of a missing child and the arrest of her kidnapper over a year ago. Now the case was going to trial and to make the case solid, the DA had requested McGee's testimony and Vance had readily agreed. Of course they'd gotten a big break in their current case before McGee's plane had touched down in Rochester.

Actually, they don't need me now. Dawes agreed to a plea bargain and the judge handed down the sentence about an hour ago just as the court was shutting down for the night.

Usually the agents hated to deal with court, but McGee actually sounded a little disappointed that he didn't get to explain to the jury what he'd done. "What kind of sentence did he get?"

Twenty-five years before he's even eligible for parole.

"Probably for the best, that way the victim doesn't have to testify. So, you heading back or gonna take a few days there? Vance isn't expecting you back until Thursday." Gibbs wasn't surprised at the answer.

I'm trying to head out now, but I can't get a flight out tonight. They're expecting a storm to hit later tonight or early tomorrow morning and it's supposed to be pretty bad. Something about the lake effect snow. I'm playing with the idea of renting a car. If I leave in the next hour or so, I should be able to stay ahead of the storm. Will the Agency reimburse me if I do that?

"Sure they will." Mentally, Gibbs shrugged. He hadn't terrorized Fred from accounting for months, he was past due for a visit. Something else caught Gibbs' attention as he mentally reviewed the map. "Actually, McGee, if you do that, could you do me a favor?"

Sure, Boss, anything.

"It'll probably add an hour or so to your trip, but would you stop in Stillwater and check on my dad? He didn't sound all that good the last time I talked to him." Gibbs felt guilty asking, but as soon as he said the words, he felt better.

Of course. I'll definitely drive then and I'll be on the road as soon as I can get a rental car. Probably less than an hour.

"You be careful and, Tim... thanks." Gibbs closed his phone and leaned back on the sofa with a sigh. His father was a proud and stubborn man, but with any luck Tim's own stubbornness and earnest face would win out.

-NCIS-

In reality, it had taken until after 2300 before he could leave Rochester with a rental car. Timothy McGee had certainly driven in snow before but the addition of the lake effect was stunning and slightly terrifying. He was glad to get enough distance between himself and Lake Ontario for the storm to settle down to a normal blizzard. What should have only taken him four hours had ended up taking almost seven and a half.

The up side of all that was that he'd be arriving in Stillwater an hour before sunrise and after a long night of driving in the heavy snow, it wouldn't look odd for him to have made the detour, looking for a respite from the storm.

It was no surprise that the store was still closed that early in the morning, so Tim drove on to Jackson's house. The road was almost impassable by then and he leaned against the steering wheel in exhaustion as he was finally able to shut off the engine. He let himself have just a moment, then took a deep breath and opened the door.

Ice pellets mixed with large snow flakes pelted him as soon as the door opened and Tim tugged his coat tighter as he climbed out and grabbed his bag. A light was on in what Tim remembered was the kitchen and he saw movement, so he knew Jackson was up. Sure enough, as he stepped onto the front porch, the curtain moved so Tim called out. "Mr. Gibbs, it's Timothy McGee. I was hoping I could crash here for a few hours and wait out the storm."

Jackson opened the door. "Tim? What on Earth are you doing here? Come on, get in here before that wind blows you away."

"Thanks." Tim pushed the door closed behind him before explaining, keeping to the truth as much as possible. "I couldn't get a flight out of Rochester, so I rented a car to get back to DC."

"Thought you could beat the storm?"

"Yeah. Never driven in that lake effect snow before." He shook off as much snow as he could and left his coat and bag by the front door.

Jackson still looked suspicious, so Tim tried to look as tired and pitiful as possible, which actually wasn't that hard under the circumstances. "So what were you doing that far North?"

"I was supposed to testify in a kidnapping case, but the perp finally took a plea bargain." They'd walked into the kitchen and Tim gratefully took the cup of coffee Jackson handed him, wrapping his fingers around the mug to warm them up.

"The Dawes case? Didn't think NCIS was involved in that one."

Tim was surprised at first, but then he remembered that Jackson was almost obsessive about watching the news and keeping up with current events. Stillwater was a small town, but cable news was cable news no matter where you were watching from.

"We weren't, but a suspect in one of our cases was sharing pictures of little girls with Dawes so I started tracking both of their movements. Our suspect dabbled in kiddy porn, but Dawes was a little more hands on. He sent a message to our suspect about having a new little girl soon and I tracked him down."

"Shouldn't you have turned it all over to the police up there?"

"Had to get a location first, then I did." As Tim talked about the case, he carefully watched Jackson. Gibbs was right, something was definitely off. There was a gray cast to his skin tone and he seemed somewhat out of breath in addition to a slight cough. "Mr. Gibbs, what's wrong? You don't seem well."

Jackson tried to sip up as straight as possible. "I'm just not as young as I used to be, that's all."

"I'll call Gibbs."

"No, no, don't bother Leroy. I don't want to be a bother to him."

"You're not a bother, you're his father. Who do you think he asked to track down Walter Beck for you? Of course that was when he thought Mr. Beck was in your squadron."

They both laughed at that before Tim made his offer. "Maybe you should see someone, get checked out. Why don't you make an appointment to see your doctor today or tomorrow and I'll watch the store for you?"

"I already saw Doc Henry." Tim didn't say anything, just stared at him and Jackson found himself telling the rest with a sigh. "He wants me to go see some fancy specialist in Allentown."

"Who's the doctor? I'll make the call and drive you down there."

"Now, you don't need to trouble yourself with me. I'll be fine."

Tim stared at him for a moment. "Either I can take you or I'll call Gibbs and he can come up and take you."

Jackson crossed his arms over his chest. "You're as stubborn as he is, do you know that?"

Deliberately misunderstanding the question, Tim smiled. "Thank you."

He hadn't meant it as a compliment, but Jackson just shook his head, giving up. "Fine, but you've been driving all night. You need to get some shut-eye if we're going anywhere."

"Agreed." Tim didn't need anyone to tell him he was close to the end of his endurance. "If it's all right with you, I'll crash on the sofa for a couple of hours, then I'll call the doctor's office when they open up."

"There's a perfectly good guest room upstairs. Or, you could get that DiNozzo character all in a tizzy by sleeping in Leroy's old room." There was a twinkle in Jackson's eye before he started coughing again.

Tim smiled at the joke even as he listened carefully to Jackson's cough. "If I go upstairs to sleep, what are you going to be doing? You're not going to try to shovel the walkway are you?"

"You'll tattle on me if I do. Nah, I'll stretch out and read for a while, maybe go back to sleep."

Picking up his bag, Tim climbed to his feet. "All right, I'll see you about nine, then."

-NCIS-

The upstairs was cold and Tim remembered Jackson mentioning that he didn't turn the heat up very high on the second floor since he never went up there. A small, portable heater was on the dresser and Tim thought about turning it on, but decided to just use the electric blanket. He turned it on to warm up before setting his alarm for 0830. That would give him time to give Gibbs an update privately before he called Jackson's doctor.

-NCIS-

Gibbs had been up at daybreak, listening to the morning news. The expected storm had hit western New York earlier and harder than anticipated, so he hoped that McGee had gotten out of there in time. Just as he was debating whether or not to call, his phone rang and Gibbs quickly answered it.

"Hey, where are you? Been watching the weather reports and it looks pretty bad out there."

Yeah, it took me over seven hours of driving time to get to Stillwater and that was after hours of fighting to get a rental car. They didn't want any of their cars out on the road in this.

Gibbs gave a low whistle. "Damn, McGee, I didn't know I was getting you into such a mess."

It's okay, Boss. You were right, he's not doing too well. His doctor wants him to see a specialist down in Allentown. He's been putting it off, so I'm going to call for him as soon as the office opens at nine. I told him that I'd drive him down there and wouldn't take no for an answer.

"I bet he loved that."

Said I was as stubborn as you, quit arguing when I thanked him.

That got a laugh out of Gibbs before he turned serious. "Thanks, Tim. I really do appreciate this."

He's important to me, too, Gibbs. I'll call you back as soon as I've got the appointment set up.

"I'll be waiting." This was one of the rare times that Gibbs was slow in closing his phone. Even over the old phone line at his father's house he could hear how tired McGee was. Deciding to drive up, himself, Gibbs refilled his coffee cup and went back upstairs to finish getting dressed. He'd meet them at the doctor's office and let McGee get home and rest.

-NCIS-

After talking to Gibbs, Tim went downstairs. Jackson was still asleep, but Tim found a business card from the only doctor in town, a Dr. Henry Ward. On the back, in someone else's handwriting, was the name of another doctor and a phone number. Since it wasn't Jackson's writing, he assumed it was Dr. Ward's. A quick check online identified Dr. James Michael Crawford as the Head of Cardiology at Lehigh Valley Hospital.

Just to be sure, Tim called Dr. Ward's office first. Eventually the call was picked up by his service that informed McGee that Dr. Ward was currently snowed in Williamsport and probably wouldn't be able to get back to Stillwater until sometime the next day. Tim thanked the woman and ended the call. He'd hoped to get more information about what Jackson needed, but he'd go with what he could find out on his own.

At 0901, he was back upstairs and on the phone with Dr. Crawford's receptionist. After explaining the situation and his worry, he asked for the first possible appointment. The receptionist seemed to understand and he happily waited while she put him on hold to find a spot.

Mr. McGee, we had a patient cancel his appointment for tomorrow, probably because of the weather. Would that work?

If it hadn't, he would have made it work. "Yes, absolutely. What time?"

Three o'clock.

"We'll be there. Thank you so very much." As soon as the call was complete, Tim dialed Gibbs again. "Hey, Boss, I got him set up with an appointment."

That's great, when?

"Tomorrow afternoon at 1500. They had a cancellation, so I was able to get him in now. Otherwise, he would have had to wait a couple of weeks.

Good. That's real good, Tim. All right, I'll let Vance know that Tony has the case as of tomorrow morning and arrange for a TAD to help him and Bishop so I can drive up and meet you and Dad, see what this doctor says.

McGee breathed a sigh of relief. As fond as he was of Jackson, he'd been afraid that he'd be asked to make decisions best left to family. "That's great, Boss. I'll send all the information to your phone."

See you tomorrow, McGee.

Once the call ended, Tim went back downstairs. Jackson was in the kitchen, cutting up some meat. The older man didn't even look up. "You know, those fancy doctors usually make you wait weeks or months for a damned appointment."

"Tomorrow, three o'clock."

Jackson chuckled and shook his head. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"

"Nope.

"Fine."

"And just think, you get to spend the morning watching a city boy shovel snow. Folks expecting the store to be open this morning?"

Nah, not until the plows come through. Stillwater's the last one on the list."

"Joys of small town living?"

Turning so that McGee couldn't clearly see him, Jackson rubbed at his chest. "Don't you know it."

-NCIS-

Gibbs had just been walking into the bullpen when his phone rang. After talking to McGee, he turned to go upstairs and found Vance standing behind him.

"Was that McGee? My understanding is that the trial is already over. He notified personnel that he was taking a few days of personal leave so I am assuming that you authorized it."

Of course McGee would have already updated the personnel office. "I did, but I want it to come out of my leave, not his. He stopped to check up on my dad and now he's staying to take Jackson to a doctor tomorrow."

"HR doesn't work that way, Gibbs." Vance held up his hand before Gibbs could argue with him. "However, you can donate any number of hours of your leave to his account."

To the team leader, that sounded like the same thing, but he'd never had the patience for those sorts of regulations. "Fine, I'll take care of it. He also rented a car so he could get out of Rochester before the storm hit. That will be covered, right?"

He could argue, but it really wasn't worth it. Gibbs would just go terrorize Fred in Accounting and a car rental for several days probably wasn't much more expensive than the airline ticket would have been. "Yes, we'll reimburse him for the car. Did I hear that you are going up to meet them?"

"Yeah." Gibbs rubbed at the sides of his face. It was barely the start of the work day and he was already wiped. "The town doctor is sending my dad to a specialist almost two hours away, sounds pretty serious. Probably going to have to have some decisions made. Tony can handle the case and he needs the experience of running point without me hanging over his shoulder."

"Good enough. I'll have a TAD for him in the morning. Do you want him to have Dorneget or Adams?"

Gibbs didn't really have to think about it. Dorneget was a good agent, but lacked enough field experience to adequately back up DiNozzo and Bishop if things heated up, especially considering how green Bishop still was. "Adams."

"Done. In fact, I'll see if I can get him in here this afternoon so he can get caught up on the case."

"Appreciate it, Leon." Gibbs gave a short nod and continued on to his desk, barking orders to DiNozzo and Bishop as they came off the elevator. Vance watched him for a moment before turning toward the stairs. Gibbs was a rock, but this was his father they were talking about. He hoped things weren't going to get too bad, too soon, for the elderly man.

-NCIS-

Tim enjoyed the breakfast Jackson had fixed for both of them before he stood. "Where's your snow shovel? I'll get started on the walk and the driveway."

"You don't have to do that."

"The snow is past the bottom on my car doors. I think it's going to take some work to get it out and it's not going to melt before tomorrow."

"We could reschedule the appointment." Jackson had a hopeful look on his face and Tim just shook his head. He wasn't going to let him put this off for another couple of weeks.

"Shovel?"

Now he was getting the glare that was so familiar, even if it was an older version. "Back porch, and wear my coat so you don't freeze to death out there. There's gloves in the pockets."

"Thank you."

His own outerwear wasn't nearly warm enough for this weather, but he hadn't expected to be anywhere other than a heated building or an airplane. Jackson's old coat was heavy, but it was warm and plenty big. The gloves were a little less successful as Tim's fingers were quite a bit longer than Jackson's and the thick, padded leather didn't stretch. Rather than argue with Jackson, he slipped them on but planned on swapping out to his own gloves once he was outside.

Tim went out the back door and found the snow shovel before tromping through the snow to the front of the house. He started at the front porch steps, scraping and moving the snow off to the side. Being an apartment dweller all his adult life it had been many years since he'd shoveled snow and he'd never dealt with it quite this deep. As he worked he hoped that the plows would reach Stillwater by morning or it was going to be a long and difficult drive getting back out to the main highways.

-NCIS-

Tony bounced to his feet as he hung up his phone. "Got something. A warehouse out in Manassas that's leased to our mysterious shell company. Dorneget is meeting us there with a warrant."

"Good." Gibbs shoved his SIG into his holster as he stood. He'd feel a lot better if they could break this case open before he left in the morning. The question of why Dorneget and not Adams was on the tip of his tongue, but then he remembered that Adams wouldn't be there until later in the day. Not everyone could drive up from Norfolk as quickly as Gibbs.

Remembering where the other man was coming from, Gibbs grabbed his cell phone and quickly dialed Vance as they loaded into the elevator. "Dorneget is meeting us with a warrant. Have Adams go straight there, okay? Thanks."

Tony gave him a funny look as he ended the call. "I know we're short McGee, but if we've already got Dorney meeting us, do we really need Adams?"

Gibbs hadn't said anything about being gone tomorrow. "It's a warehouse, DiNozzo. Do you really want us to go through a couple of thousand boxes by ourselves?"

"Good point, Boss."

"Thought so." Gibbs glanced over at Bishop to see if she had anything to add. When she remained silent, he led them out to the car.

-NCIS-

The snow was even deeper and heavier than he'd been expecting and within just a few minutes Tim was sweating in his borrowed heavy coat, even though his hands were freezing. He considered putting the thick leather gloves back on, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to hang onto the handle of the shovel with his fingers so bound up.

Eventually he found his rhythm, even managing a furtive glance at Jackson through the front window every time he tossed a shovelful of snow to the side. Tim was about halfway to the driveway when Jackson disappeared from view. It took a second to register with Tim before he dropped the shovel and started toward the door, trying to come up with an excuse to explain why he was dashing in the house with so much work left to do.

Any story he could come up with about needing coffee vanished when he went inside and found Jackson on the floor, not moving.

"Jack? Oh, my God, Jackson!"

Tim rounded the sofa, dropping to his hands and knees next to the prone figure as he tugged off his icy gloves. Frantically, he felt for a pulse, rubbing his hands together and trying for a second time. "Come on, come on."

He still couldn't find a pulse and he rolled Jackson onto his back. The elderly man was limp, his eyes closed. Tim had to raise back up onto his knees to get his phone out of his pocket. Dialing 911 and then hitting the speaker button, he dropped it onto the floor as he started CPR.

911, police, fire or medical?

"Medical, I need a bus, I think he's had a heart attack."

You're calling from a cell phone, sir. I need an address.

Tim looked around frantically as he continued chest compressions. He'd driven here by memory one he'd reached Stillwater and didn't have a clue what the street address was. Jackson had knocked over a small table when he fell and there were several pieces of mail on the floor. He reached out and grabbed one before resuming compressions. After reading off the address, he resumed CPR, bending down to breathe for Jackson.

Is someone giving the victim CPR?

"I am." Tim knew her questions were procedure, but he was already panting from the exertion.

Are you alone with the victim?

"Yes! Three... four... five..." A drop of sweat ran into his eye, stinging and blurring his vision. "How soon?"

ETA on the ambulance is fifteen minutes, sir. Local officers have been notified.

He needed someone to help with the CPR. "Are they coming?"

ETA unknown, sir.

He felt the first flicker of panic. "Damn it, we need help now." Muffled voices could be heard over the speaker. He knew that the emergency dispatch service in the area was actually a combined, three county effort, but he had no idea where the dispatch office was. Obviously not in Stillwater, not with a population of less than 200, as the entire police department would have fit in Jackson's living room. Eventually, the dispatcher came back on the line.

We're checking, sir.

Another ten rounds of compressions and breathing. Tim was straining to hear the sounds of the approaching ambulance, but all he could hear was a pounding in his ears. Finally, another voice came on the line, male and older sounding.

All right, son, how you doing? My name is Daniel and we're going to get you through this. Now, what's your name.

"Tim, I'm Tim. We need help." Water was landing on his hands as he pressed down again and again. He didn't know where it was coming from, but when he tilted Jackson's head back to give him another breath, it was salty as it dribbled down onto his lips.

We know, son. Sheriff Gantry is on his way, but he's way out on the north side of town, almost to Maple Grove. It's going to take him a while to get through the snow. One of his deputies is trying to get back from Waterton. They're the only two on duty today, Tim.

Tim didn't waste his breath answering, just concentrated on trying to keep Jackson alive. His world narrowed down to his count, the chest compressions, the air he was forcing into Jackson's lungs and the clock on the corner of his phone.

Twelve minutes. Breathe, one... two... three...

Seventeen minutes. One hundred compressions a minute, his arms were starting to burn.

Twenty minutes. Twenty-eight... twenty-nine... thirty... breathe.

"Where's the damn ambulance?"

We're trying to raise them now, Tim. Hold on.

He heard muted sounds over the phone, then a muffled angry shout. "What? What's happening? How much longer?"

The ambulance went off the road and rolled. We're going to try to...

"No! He needs help now. How long for another ambulance?"

There's been a multi-car pile up on Interstate Eighty. All the other ambulances in the area are there, but we're trying to reroute one now. Just stay calm, Tim, you're doing fine.

"He's not! Please..." Starting to feel dizzy, Tim closed his eyes for a moment. "You have to help us."

You're inside the house? Can you see anyone outside? Do you know any of the neighbors?

The snow had been steadily picking up, there weren't even any children playing outside. "No, no one. I... I don't live here, I don't even know who to find."

Okay, Tim, I'm going to try and get the Sheriff on another line. Just hang on.

"Yeah, sure." He was queasy, but kept going, counting out loud to keep the numbers straight in his head. He'd done another twelve rounds of compressions when Daniel came back on the line.

Sheriff's close, Tim. He'll be there in a few minutes. Listen for his siren. Tell me when you hear it.

"Yeah, okay." Thirty compressions, two breaths. Thirty compressions, two breaths. Even the clock on his phone dropped off his radar as his world narrowed down. Thirty compressions, two breaths. Finally a sound. "I hear it, I hear a siren."