A/N – This is a tag to the season 15 episode Ready or Not. I couldn't shake this image of Tim sharing a quiet moment with Gibbs after the birth of his children. It was touched on slightly in the first two episodes that Tim and Gibbs now share a deeper bond because of their shared experiences in Paraguay. This is a short exploration of that as Tim reflects on family and fatherhood.

He smiled as he looked down at the tiny bundle, swaddled in pink, currently devouring a bottle of formula. Apparently being born was hungry work.

And not for the first time today, he felt a strange, almost surreal, feeling. Seven and a half months wasn't enough time to prepare anyone for the arrival of not one but two tiny humans that were now fully dependent on himself and Delilah. Granted the second tiny human of that equation was still a surprise and a week was not enough time to adjust to the fact that their family had doubled in a matter of hours.

But here he was, holding his daughter, trying to memorize her face. She had Delilah's eyes and maybe her nose. But Morgan had his ears.

He glanced at Delilah. She was asleep and had been for some time.

Delilah was lucky that her paralysis was low enough on her spine that she still had some feeling in her legs and hips; she only lacked the strength and muscle control to walk. But over the course of her pregnancy, she had enough sensation with the babies that the doctors felt she could opt for a natural birth instead of a C-section which would have been a far more difficult recovery given her reliance on a chair to get around.

He marveled at her strength to endure the birthing process, not once but twice in short order. From the way she nearly crushed his hand, he could only begin to imagine how painful it had been for her, even with the epidural and the decreased sensation from her paralysis. But unlike Jimmy, he had emerged unscathed with all the bones in his hand intact.

At first, it reminded him uncomfortably of Paraguay. Someone he loved was enduring pain and there was nothing he could do but watch and do his best to offer support. But those thoughts were immediately banished by the look of pure joy on Delilah's face when they heard their son's first cries and as the nurses placed their son on her chest. Even the onset of their daughter's birth and the subsequent pain hadn't been enough to wipe the smile from her face.

Suddenly he heard a shoe shuffle at the door.

He glanced up and saw Gibbs cautiously peering into their room. He had stayed a little while to visit but when their room grew too crowded with the addition of Jimmy and Ducky, he slipped off to deal with the aftermath of the hostage situation downstairs. He wasn't surprised to see that Gibbs had returned now that the crowd had gone although he did wonder how late it was.

He had long since lost track of time. The day had become one long blur. It was late enough that the only light came from a small lamp in the corner and whatever light spilled in from the hall. The hustle of the daytime had been replaced with the soft, muffled voices of the nurses in the hall. It was past visiting hours, which obviously didn't stop Gibbs. But then again, Gibbs was family and he was welcome any time.

"You can come in, Gibbs," he said softly.

Gibbs stepped into the dim hospital room. He glanced towards Delilah questioningly.

He found the clock in the room. It was almost ten o'clock.

"She's been out for a little while," he replied. "I'm actually surprised she managed to stay awake so long."

"Yeah," Gibbs said. "Given your day, I'm surprised you're still awake. Bishop mentioned something about flugendorfs, whatever those are."

Blinking, he recalled the conversation from that morning. It felt like lifetime ago that they had discussed his sleepless night building another crib.

"I'm not sure either," he replied. "But I have three of them left over after I spent last night building a second crib. I read the instructions four times and still can't figure out where they go." Gibbs smiled. "I'm still running on adrenaline I think. Especially after the whole hostage situation."

Gibbs smiled as he took the seat next to him.

"I have your side arm," Gibbs said. He nodded. "And your clothes. But those are evidence. I'll hold onto your sidearm and you can pick it up when you have a chance." He nodded. "I figured you'd want this though."

He looked as Gibbs pulled out his shield. In his haste to get to Delilah, he had left it behind with his clothes that the nurse had bagged as evidence. He wasn't surprised. With everything that happened, he had been lucky to remember to grab his wallet and credentials.

"Thanks," he said as he motioned for Gibbs to set it on the tray since he had his hands full.

"She's beautiful," Gibbs said as he looked at the little girl.

"Yeah," he said, a smile reflexively forming at his lips. He'd been smiling a lot today.

"Delilah knows the inspiration for the name?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "We had a few minutes to talk before Abby went to get you. I told her about Morgan and that he had died. Dee met him when Abby brought her into the hospital." He looked at his daughter. "Has his family been notified yet?"

Gibbs nodded. He looked at Gibbs then at his daughter and for a moment he recalled her namesake. It was never easy talking to the family who had just lost a loved one. But he had been with Morgan when he died. He wanted them to know they had the man responsible for their loved one's death and that he hadn't been alone when he died.

"You want to talk to them?"

"Yeah. I was with him when he died. I'd like to say a few words," he said as he glanced at his daughter. Gibbs nodded, indicating that he would get the information for him. Suddenly John began to fuss. He looked down at Morgan then at the bassinet, wondering how he'd manage...

Gibbs squeezed his shoulder and smiled, seemingly reading his mind.

"I got him," Gibbs said as he stood up. Gibbs pulled off his suit coat and draped it over the back of the chair, then made his way to the bassinet where his son lay.

"There's a bottle next to the bassinet," he said relaxing.

He watched as Gibbs expertly scooped up the baby and the bottle and returned to the chair. Gibbs said a few calming words and soon John was happily eating.

"Thanks," he said. "Dee wants to breastfeed but with two, we're going to have to supplement with formula." Gibbs nodded, not taking his eyes off the little boy. "And I thought we were going to have our hands full with one."

Gibbs chuckled. "You gonna be able to manage?"

"Yeah," he replied. "We're going to be here at least through Saturday maybe Sunday. With the babies being early they want to make sure they're really ok to go home. And Delilah's doctors want to make sure that the pregnancy didn't affect her paralysis. So far things look ok but no one wants to take any chances."

He glanced at Delilah and smiled. She looked beautiful and serene as she slept. And not for the first time he marveled at her strength.

"Her mother and sister are going to be flying in next weekend," he continued. "My mom and sister are flying in on Wednesday. It's the earliest they could manage with the holiday."

"Still leaves a few days by yourselves," Gibbs said.

"Penny will be back in town on Sunday and she's already offered to come by to help," he replied. "Abby's going to pick up our go bags in the morning too so I won't have to leave. Ducky promised to bring us a plate of leftovers since he's skeptical that the hospital food will measure up to his turkey dinner." Gibbs smiled. "And once we get home, Abby and Bishop have already volunteered to drop off food so we won't have to cook. We'll be fine."

"Yeah," Gibbs said as he looked down at the little boy. "You will."

"But you're more than welcome to stop by any time. We won't turn down any visitors who want to help," he said. Gibbs nodded and he caught the hint of a smile at his lips.

They fell into a comfortable silence and when Morgan finished her bottle, he set it to the side. Then he carefully pulled her to his shoulder and patted her back until she burped. Bringing her back to his arms, he held her as her eyes started to droop.

"You're a natural," Gibbs said with a smile.

"I don't know about that," he replied. "Right now, I'll settle for beginner's luck. We'll see if it keeps up." He looked at Gibbs who was looking down at John with a smile on his face. "Seems like you haven't forgotten what to do."

"Just like riding a bike," Gibbs replied softly.

He glanced at Gibbs and his eye was drawn to the faint scar by his left eye. It was one of the last visible reminders of their time spent in Paraguay.

Shortly before their escape, they had been taken from their cell and forced through their captor's version of a gauntlet once again. With their hands tied behind their back, they were forced to make their way through the corridors as the crew laughed, jeered and struck at them. One of the men had pushed him over a knee knocker and with his hands bound behind his back, he hadn't been able to brace himself as he went down. He hit the deck hard and had been winded and dazed.

As he struggled to recover, Gibbs stood over him and guarded him from the man who had pushed him down. It earned Gibbs a shiner and a split cheek, but it had also given him time to fight to his feet and to continue. He had chastised Gibbs after they finally returned to their cell, but Gibbs assured him it was worth it to keep the men from beating him while he was down. He protected his people.

Gibbs had been protecting him for fifteen years, teaching him, molding him into the man he was. He and Delilah had wanted to honor that just as they had honored his father by naming their son after him.

As Gibbs fed John, he began to smile at the baby boy. The reflexive smile, like the one he had been wearing for much of the day, almost hid Gibbs' scar from view.

"I hope you don't mind," he said drawing Gibbs' attention. "But John isn't just named for my father." Gibbs looked at him. "We wanted to name him after the two men who have been the biggest influence on me. My dad got me started but I wouldn't be who I am without your influence boss."

"I didn't do much," Gibbs protested. "You did all the hard work."

"Maybe so," he said, unsurprised that Gibbs was avoiding taking credit where it was due. Gibbs never liked praise even when it was well-earned. "But hard work means nothing if you're learning the wrong things."

Gibbs nodded in concession.

"What name did you pick?" Gibbs asked.

"Dee suggested Jethro since it would be his middle name and it's yours too," he said. "We even debated going with Gibbs, but we went with my suggestion." Gibbs looked at him expectantly. "John Jackson seemed to have a good ring to it."

Gibbs looked at him for a moment before he nodded. "It does," Gibbs said. He looked down at the boy. Gibbs chuckled. "And it's better than John Leroy."

He smiled. "I thought so too although John Jethro wouldn't have been bad either."

Gibbs shook his head. "Nah, you made the better choice." Gibbs met his eye. "I'm honored, Tim," Gibbs said sincerely. He could see a glint from unshed tears in his Gibbs' eye. "Dad would be too."

They fell silent and when John finished his bottle, Gibbs burped the boy before settling him in to sleep off the meal.

"This is exactly why you fought like hell to get home, Tim," Gibbs said softly.

He looked at his boss as he looked down at his son. Not counting Gibbs' manic joy right after they returned home, he wasn't sure he had ever seen his boss so content.

"Yeah," he agreed. "And this is exactly why I got off that helo."

Gibbs looked at him.

After spending two months together, he was able to read Gibbs' micro expressions a little better. There was joy at the corner of his eyes. Gratitude in the slight nod of his head and pride in the slight uptick of his mouth. Gibbs had been prepared to sacrifice himself to save the children and Gibbs had been prepared to sacrifice himself so that he could return home to Delilah and his children. But he was grateful that he had survived.

He mirrored his boss as they came to the same understanding.

"Don't take any of it for granted," Gibbs said as he returned his gaze to John. "Savor every minute you have with them."

"I'm trying," he said.

Gibbs looked at him. "Your anxiety?"

"Not so bad as it was when we first got home," he admitted. "Dr. Confalone's been helping with that." He chuckled slightly. "Although it was ratchetted up a few notches today." Gibbs smiled. "But I'm appreciating things more," he said. "I just meant that its only been a few hours. Been enjoying every minute of it."

Gibbs nodded.

"Worried?"

"Weren't you?" he asked.

"I was too young and stupid to be worried," Gibbs said. "And I was Marine Sniper. Even if I was worried, I wasn't going to admit it to anyone let alone myself." He snorted lightly. "Worried you're going to make mistakes?"

He considered it for a moment before he answered.

"I know I'm going to make mistakes," he replied. "I had a complicated relationship with my Dad. After I went to college, it was like we were always butting heads. No matter what I did, it was never good enough. MIT at sixteen? It wasn't the Academy. Masters degree? What was I going to use a computer forensics degree for anyway? Biomedical engineering degree? Was I going to go to college forever? FLETC? Why would I want to be a paper-pusher? Joining the MCRT. I wasn't a real agent. I was obviously there because of my computer skills."

Morgan started to fuss and he realized how much he had worked himself up. He took a deep breath and gently rocked her until she returned to sleep.

"At times, it was an all-out Cold War between us. That's what worries me the most," he said as he looked at his daughter before looking at Gibbs. "I don't want to have that kind of relationship with my kids. I hated it but I had no idea how to fix it either. It took Dad getting sick to finally work things out." He sighed lightly. "And by the time we did, I lost him."

"You wanted more," Gibbs inferred.

"Yeah," he said as he fell silent.

He and his father had been close when he had been young. He still fondly recalled their times camping together for scouts and his father showing him how to operate the HAM radio so they could talk to people all over the world. But as his father's career started to take off, they started to drift apart.

His father would deploy and he skipped a grade in school. They moved to another base and he grew more independent. Then he went off to MIT and instead of joining ROTC and choosing a Naval career, he decided to take his life in a different direction than his father had anticipated. He changed and grew while his father seemed to be further set in his ways.

Every time they would fight, he would think of the early days of his childhood. He had a great relationship with his father as a child. Was it too much to ask for that as an adult? But just when he finally got to that point, his father died and he lost it forever. It was bittersweet.

He tried to imagine how his father would have reacted to everything from his hasty wedding after finding out they were pregnant to the surprise that they were having twins. He didn't think his father would have been pleased with the order of operations but even that would give way to some kind of response. But all he could picture was his father's stoic face; he couldn't picture his reaction.

Gibbs on the other hand, had always been supportive of his relationship with Delilah, in his own Gibbsian way.

With his boss, actions spoke louder than words. Despite being in the middle of a case, Gibbs had come to the hospital to stay with him both when Delilah had been hurt and when she had collapsed seven months ago. They had talked a little, but mostly, they had sat in silence. Gibbs' presence had been calming enough to ease his anxiety.

But his most powerful statement had been when Gibbs had given him his family watch. It was a precious family heirloom. Words had failed him when he realized how much Gibbs thought of him, especially after he realized his boss had engraved the watch for him.

"He thought you were just a paper-pusher?" Gibbs asked, drawing him from his thoughts.

"When we saw him on the ship, yeah," he replied. "Dad had his own idea of what an NCIS agent did. Every time we talked, he never let me answer when I tried to explain my job so eventually I gave up." He looked at Morgan. "After I found out about his health, well, we did start talking more. But that didn't make it any easier to communicate."

"Know how that goes," Gibbs replied. "I didn't talk to my father for almost twenty years and before that we butted heads too. Butted heads almost as much afterwards. Got it right in the end though." He nodded. "Your father ever find out the truth?" He shook his head. He wasn't sure what Gibbs meant. "About the kind of agent you are?"

"I think so," he replied. "I think I dropped enough hints that he asked the right questions of the right people. Pretty sure Sarah always stuck up for me too but he never asked me." He left it unspoken that he wished his father had asked. He looked down at Morgan again. "I think he was happier that I was seeing Delilah than knowing I was a good agent though."

He looked at Gibbs. His father had sacrificed a lot for his career. His family paid the price and his father hadn't wanted him to do the same.

"We've known each other a long time Tim," Gibbs said. "And after Paraguay, I can say for certain that you aren't your father."

He nodded. The long hours in the cell together had led to long conversations. Sometimes it was because they were bored. Other times it was to take their minds off the pain El Doctor had inflicted on them or that they knew would be inflicted on them. Sometimes it was because they talked in their sleep or hallucinated because of pain and hunger. Regardless of the reason, they now knew more about each other than anyone else with the exception of Delilah. And maybe Fornell.

"I'm proud of who you've become," Gibbs said. "I'd like to say I saw it coming when we met on that quay in Norfolk, but I never imagined you'd become the agent you are now. You exceeded all my expectations."

He thought back to that day. He had only been an agent for a few months and up until then, he had never had to deal with anything more than petty crime. As horrible as it was, the call that a body had been discovered was exciting. It was more along the lines of what he had imagined he would be doing when he decided to join NCIS. He hadn't been prepared for the sight or the smell of a dead body. But he forced himself to follow procedure, secure the site and the witnesses until Gibbs and his team arrived.

"You know," he said as he shifted slightly. "I don't think I ever asked…"

"Why'd I bring you onto my team?" Gibbs asked. He nodded. "It wasn't your computer skills."

"Bet that didn't hurt though," he said.

Gibbs shrugged and looked thoughtful for a moment.

"You were green as grass and looked like you were about to puke on my shoes," Gibbs said. He nodded. He still wasn't sure how he hadn't puked at that first scene. "But when I asked if you didn't think I could be difficult too, you squared up, looked me in the eye and said you thought I could."

"That's what made you bring me onto your team?" he asked incredulously. He had been quaking in boots and stuttered badly under Gibbs' intense gaze. That first meeting definitely hadn't been his finest hour.

"That and you asked the right question that got us to the ecoterrorists that were trying to kill the crew with sarin gas," Gibbs said. "Took me months to finally convince the Director to approve the transfer. You were young and didn't have any investigative experience. He didn't think it was right to bring you straight onto the MCRT. Morrow kept suggesting other agents and I kept turning him down."

"I appreciate your stubbornness on my behalf, Gibbs," he said.

Gibbs cocked a small smile as John yawned before settling down again.

"I was a sniper, Tim," Gibbs replied. "We're patient and stubborn."

He smiled.

"Believe me, Morrow got sick of hearing 'I told you so' when you proved me right," Gibbs said. "And while I'm glad you did, I'm more proud of the man you've become," Gibbs said. "Delilah's a lucky woman. You're the kind of man I would have wished for my own daughter."

He blinked back the tears. After knowing Gibbs for so long, he knew that was about the highest praise of anyone's character that Gibbs could give.

"That means a lot to me, Gibbs," he said finally. "Really."

Gibbs snorted lightly.

"Not sure why people value my opinion in those matters so much," Gibbs said.

"After what we went through together, you have to ask why I value your opinion?" he asked.

"Nah," Gibbs said. "Before that. Both you and DiNozzo. Never understood it."

"Why?" he asked. "Because the second 'B' stands for bastard?"

Gibbs chuckled at his old joke.

"Something like that," Gibbs replied. "You know better than anyone; I'm no saint."

"I know," he replied. "No one's perfect Gibbs," he said. "Even at the end when we were getting along, my dad was still…" He hesitated as he tried to select the right word. His father had been stubborn, cantankerous and emotionally closed off right up until the end. "Difficult," he said settling on the most diplomatic descriptor. Glancing at Gibbs, he could see that his boss understood. "Even he admitted that he'd never be named father of the year but he was still my father."

He allowed his words to sink in for a moment before he continued.

"We've been through a lot together, even before Paraguay," he said. "I know you wouldn't steer me wrong when I need help."

"No," Gibbs agreed.

"And I know you would do anything for me, just like I would do anything for you," he finished.

"You do what you need to do for family," Gibbs said.

"Yeah," he agreed. "And that's why I value your opinion, Boss. You're family. So that means, you're Grandpa Gibbs now."

Gibbs looked down at John and nodded.

"Ok," he said accepting the title with a smile.

"Any grandfatherly advice you want to give, Gibbs?" he asked.

Gibbs looked at him and he could see his boss knew he was asking for advice, father to father. Or more accurately, father to son.

Not long after he had joined Gibbs' team, they had figured out that he was young enough to be Gibbs' son. He and Tony had joked about it but mostly Tony used that fact to tease him for his young age. He hadn't really considered the older man to be a father figure at the time but after fifteen years of working together, trusting one another and in more than one case, nearly dying together, their relationship had changed from coworkers to something deeper.

Even if his father had been still alive, he wasn't sure he would have been a source of advice other than 'don't make the same mistakes I did.' Which aside from obvious, wasn't helpful. But his father had died long before he had considered the possibility of marriage and a family with Delilah.

So, while he didn't have the option to seek fatherly advice from his biological father, he had the next best thing sitting in the chair next to him, holding his son.

He looked at Gibbs as the older man considered his words.

"Yeah," Gibbs replied. "Breathe, Tim. Just breathe."

He met Gibbs' gaze and smiled as they both looked down at the sleeping babies in their arms.