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Chapter 6

*two days later – the Navy Yard*

Leon Vance stood in front of the large black and white print on his office wall, staring at the image but not seeing it. His thoughts were on end of the year paperwork, a definite downside to his position of Director, but he knew there were worse things. He had already dealt with those this past year.

He was startled from his thoughts by the ringing of his desk phone and he walked over to answer it.

"Yes?"

"Director, you have a request for a video conference call from a Captain Vachon in Aguadilla."

Vance paused to absorb this information. Aguadilla was a tourist town in northwest Puerto Rico, but there was also a Coast Guard base there. He had worked with their search and rescue unit on numerous occasions.

"Thank you, Pamela. Put him through." He pressed the button to activate the video phone connection and was soon rewarded with the grainy image of a man in a Coast Guard uniform. "This is Director Vance."

"Director, this is Captain Oscar Vachon. I have some new information for you on the two NCIS agents lost at sea four months ago."

Vance sighed. It figured that they would receive such news, likely a confirmation of the two men's demise, just days before Christmas.

"Thank you, Captain Vachon. What can you tell me?"

"Well, sir, it might be better if I just showed you." Before Vance could respond, the image shifted, and suddenly he was staring at a pair of tanned, scruffy, and shockingly familiar faces. His eyes widened in surprise as he stared at the image, and finally let out a rough chuckle.

"Well, I'll be damned. Agent Gibbs, Agent McGee, I trust you have a good explanation for your extended absence?"

Gibbs smirked. "We do, Leon."

"Agent McGee?"

"Uh, yes, sir. We were…stranded. No communication equipment available."

"For four months?"

"Yes, sir. Four months."

"Think you can get us home any time soon, Leon? We'll give you a full report…in person."

"This might have escaped you, Gibbs, but it is almost Christmas. We are short staffed and flights are booked." He saw a stricken expression cross McGee's face and he couldn't keep up the charade. "Get packed, I'll have you on the next flight out. And I do expect that report as soon as you arrive."

"Yes, sir," said McGee, obviously relieved. "Thank you, sir."

"Thanks, Leon."

"Don't thank me, Gibbs. I suspect I'd have a mutiny on my hands if I didn't get you two back here ASAP."

"I don't doubt it, Director."

After the call disconnected Vance leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. After a couple of minutes he picked up the phone and called his secretary.

"Pamela, I need to see Agents DiNozzo and David, Ms. Sciuto, Dr, Mallard, and Mr. Palmer in my office, immediately."

"Yes, sir."

Vance put the handset back on its cradle and smiled. It was about damn time he'd be able to deliver some good news to his people.

The group was assembled in less than five minutes, anxious expressions on their faces. The absolute joy he saw on those same faces a few moments later made the amount of paperwork he would be doing because of all this absolutely worth it.

XXX

*Christmas Eve – Gibbs' house*

Gibbs sat back and watched the antics of the group assembled in his living room with a smile on his face. He and McGee had arrived in D.C. less than forty-eight hours ago, and already things seemed to be falling back into place. They had been flown in from Puerto Rico on a private jet (and he didn't even want to think of the strings Leon had yanked to pull that one off) and had been greeted by Vance, Jack, and McGee's family first, followed by the rest of their team. Gibbs had acknowledged Vance's subtle display of understanding of his agent's state of mind with a simple nod as Jack embraced him, and the expressions he had seen on the faces of McGee's mother and sister were ones he would never forget. He thought he had even seen a trace of a tear in the eyes of the habitually stoic young man and had wiped away the suspicious wetness in his own eyes, hopefully unnoticed.

The restraint of that first meeting was definitely lacking from the next. He could still feel Abby's bone-crushing hug, one she had halted only long enough to treat McGee to the same. The others had been only slightly less enthusiastic in their greetings, although Palmer had drawn the line, apparently, at hugging the lead agent, He had received an affectionate cuff to the head from Tony in return.

Both men had been shocked to receive news of their awards and had accepted them from Jack and Sarah rather reluctantly, knowing what this would mean for their desire to keep their return home low key. Vance had honored their wishes to keep their return out of the press, at least for the time being. Gibbs had seen the expression on Tim's face as he took the flat black box from his sister and opened it, and the older man hoped that Tim would learn to accept his contribution that had earned him that medal, without the associated guilt for the lives he hadn't saved, in time.

A burst of laughter startled Gibbs from his reverie and he returned his attention to the group.

"Come on, McGilligan, I know you really didn't turn into the Great White Iguana Hunter."

"I managed, Tony."

"Gilligan? Shouldn't he be The Professor?" asked Palmer and grinned at Tony's reaction.

"Yeah, but then he would have been building radios out of coconuts or something, right?"

Tim just shook his head. "Whatever you say, Tony, but if I'm Gilligan, does that mean Gibbs is the Skipper?"

Gibbs silently walked up behind his senior agent. This was just too good of an opportunity to miss…

"Makes sense to me. The Skipper was always whacking Gilligan over the—" Tony winced and automatically scrunched his head down between his shoulders as Gibbs' hand connected with the back of his head. "Thanks, Boss."

"I think if Gibbs had been captain that boat never would have been stranded," said Abby.

Gibbs noticed a flicker of sadness cross Tim's face and stepped in.

"Can't fight a storm, Abbs," he said, and gave her a pointed look. She blinked sheepishly.

"No, I guess not…"

There was an awkward silence followed as they all remembered the story Gibbs and McGee had told them about crew that had saved the lives of the two men. Finally the moment was broken by the arrival of Ducky and Mrs. McGee to tell them that dinner was ready.

They all gathered around the tables that had been arranged in Gibbs' dining room and were now loaded down with a large assortment of traditional holiday foods.

"Man, this looks awesome," exclaimed Tony. "We should do this more often." He caught the multitude of glares from his companions and managed a rather embarrassed grin. "Well, you know what I mean."

They filled their plates and glasses, and when everyone was seated, Ducky proposed a toast.

"To good friends, and good family: may we always have them in our thoughts and in our hearts."

"And in our lives," added Ziva as she smiled at Gibbs and McGee.

"Hear, hear!" said Tony and Palmer.

"And God Bless us, every one!" said Abby. The entire group turned to look at her and she grinned. "Aw come on, at least I got the holiday right this time!"

"That you did, Abbs," said Gibbs.

XXX

After the dishes had been cleared and most of the group was settled in the living room, swapping stories of past gatherings, Tony slipped out the back door and sat down on the steps. He looked up at the darkening sky and sighed. It had been one hell of a year.

He had been sitting there for only a few moments when felt another presence and turned to find Gibbs watching him silently from the doorway.

"Hey, Boss."

Gibbs walked over and sat down next to him. He remained silent for several minutes before finally speaking.

"You OK with that, Tony?"

"OK with what?"

"Me, being your Boss again?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

Gibbs chuckled softly. "Twice now you've picked up the slack when I've been gone. You managed just fine without me. You sure you don't want to stay in the Boss' chair?"

Tony turned to study the older man. He hadn't had much of a chance to do so before now and he did notice that Gibbs was a little different, although couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was.

"Yeah," he said after a few moments. "I'm sure." Gibbs turned to him, eyebrow raised, and finally Tony continued. "When I had to take over…the first time it was your choice, but this time it wasn't. I'd much rather it be your choice."

"But not yours?"

"Boss…as long as you can do this job: that is my choice."

Gibbs continued to stare at him, a technique he recognized that the lead agent used when he wanted more of an explanation.

"It felt wrong, Boss. Not just because you weren't there, but…"

"McGee wasn't either."

"Yeah. I kind of got used to you guys having my six. You, because, well, you're you, and McGee because…"

"He's the most dependable person you know."

"Yeah…" Tony chuckled. "It's amazing what you take for granted."

"Why I have rules against that, Tony. One thing I learned…over the past few months, you should always appreciate what you have, and always make sure someone knows it."

Tony thought for a minute, and then nodded. "Loud and clear, Gibbs, loud and clear."

Gibbs clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, I think Ducky mentioned something about desert."

Tony grinned. "Sounds good to me…Boss."

XXX

After almost everyone had left, Gibbs, Jack, Duck, and Palmer made one last trip of the night. The wooden toys that had been finished were packed up and taken to the Children's home, were they were appreciated beyond measure. Gibbs had been impressed at the quality of the work done to finish them, and Palmer had blushed under the restrained yet sincere praise he received for his contribution.

After their mission, the group had separated. Gibbs and Jack returned to the house, while Palmer was headed to his girlfriend's, and Ducky back to his townhouse to take care of his guests. McGee's family was staying there for the night, and they would be traveling home with McGee in tow the next day. He had planned to stay with them for a couple of days before returning to go apartment hunting and settling his paperwork to return to NCIS.

Gibbs and Jack were headed to Stillwater in the morning. He planned to help his father get the store ready to re-open, and then he would spend a few days catching up and keeping an eye on the older man until Gibbs was satisfied that Jack was ready to be by himself once again. He had a good idea what a strain everything had been on his father, and he didn't want to risk something happening to him.

It was almost 11:00, and Gibbs was sitting in front of the fire, nearly asleep, when he heard a soft knock at the door. He got up and walked over to answer it, and was only slightly surprised to find McGee waiting on his front step, bundled up against the cold.

"Door's unlocked, McGee. No need to knock."

"Right…sorry, Boss."

Gibbs stepped aside to allow the younger man to step inside. "What do you need, Tim?"

"I, uh…I wanted to give you something." He pulled a box from his pocket and handed it to Gibbs. "I made these for you, on the island. I didn't get a chance to give them to you before, and…you probably don't have much use for them now, but…"

Gibbs couldn't help but smile. "Come in, have a seat. I'll be right back." He set the box on the coffee table and went to retrieve an early gift from Jack as well as the box he had carried with him all the way from the Caribbean.

When he returned, Tim was staring into the fire, apparently lost in thought. He quickly noticed Gibbs and gave him an embarrassed smirk as he pointed at the fire.

"Just like old times, huh?"

"Yep." Gibbs placed Jack's gift, a beautifully crafted wooden game board on the coffee table. Tim raised an eyebrow. "How did you…?"

"I told Jack about our games, and he bought it for me so he and I could play. I figured it would be a good place for you to try these out." He handed Tim the box. "Made 'em for you while I was on the island. It passed the time."

Tim opened the box and gasped. "Boss, these…these are really nice." He pulled out one of the delicately carved chessmen and examined it. "Wow. Thank you." Suddenly, he blushed. "I, uh…what, I made, it's not…"

Gibbs opened the box Tim had given him and smiled. He picked up one of the polished white stones, one of a set of twelve, and then picked up one of the black stones. "Checkers. Nice, Tim. These will work great. Thank you."

"So, uh…"

"Which do you want to play first?"

Tim grinned, obviously relieved. "Up to you."

Gibbs set out the checkers and they started to play, falling quickly into their old routine. It was more comforting that Gibbs had expected, and he found him self starting to relax, really relax, for the first time since they'd left the island.

They finished the game and had started to set out the chess pieces when the old clock on the mantle struck the hour. It was midnight. They both looked up at the clock and then looked at each other, slight smiles on their faces which soon blossomed into grins.

"Merry Christmas, Boss."

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Tim."

XXX

*ten days later – the Navy Yard*

Stepping into the bullpen at NCIS was most definitely a relief. The past few days had flown by, with a series of reunions between Tim and his family and friends, followed by a search for a new place to live, moving his stuff from storage, and completing the mound of paperwork required to be reinstated at NCIS. He had spent time with his teammates and they had filled him in on what he'd missed, including the resolution of the bombing case. It turned out that Corwin had been working for someone else, someone who had a personal vendetta against the lead scientist in the still classified research project. He had changed the navigation data as a distraction while he stole data and to prevent the Navy from recovering the ship after he destroyed it. The plan had been to escape while the rest of the crew was occupied with the emergency, a plan that had been foiled by Gibbs and McGee. The information the Corwin was supposed to have given to his employer had never been recovered, meaning that the project was safe, and the instigator was now awaiting sentencing. It had been at least somewhat of a relief to Tim that the whole mission had not been in vain.

He made it to his desk and sat down, glancing around at the familiar surroundings. The walls around his old desk were now bare, but Tim still felt like he was finally at home. It had been more of an adjustment than he expected, returning from the isolation of the island. Tony had given him a recording of ocean wave sounds as a joke (so he had said), but Tim had quickly realized he actually needed that link to his residence of four months. He was still adjusting the cold, the layers of clothes and the solid shoes he now needed, but he figured he would adjust soon enough. It was what he did.

Tim turned to face his computer monitor and simply stared at it, almost reluctant to turn it on. He had surprised himself by avoiding contact with technology as much as possible, and there were times when he actually yearned for the simplicity he had left behind. It had been quite a shock at first, but once again, he told himself he just needed time.

"Don't tell me you've actually forgotten how to turn that on."

He looked up to see Tony standing in front of him, an odd expression on his face which quickly morphed into one of his trademark grins.

"Come one, tell me, how bad were the withdrawal symptoms, McAddict?"

"I…actually not too bad. I learned to embrace the lifestyle fairly quickly."

"Whatever you say, McGoneNative."

Tim just chuckled and turned on his computer. He glanced up at Tony again as was startled by the expression on the senior agent's face.

"What's wrong, Tony?"

"It's, uh…good to see you sitting there again, Tim." Tony turned back to his desk to avoid the younger man's scrutiny and Tim managed a smile. He had a pretty good idea how hard it was for the other man to admit that.

"Thanks…Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Sorry I worried you. I..."

"You know what it's like, not knowing what happened to someone you…care about."

Tim's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wait, what…?"

"Sarah kind of mentioned that you…that your mother had lost another child. I, we looked into it."

"Oh." Tim blushed. He wasn't sure he wanted all of them to know abut Jana. Telling Gibbs had been a surprise, but under the circumstances…it had felt right.

"Anyway, we, Ziva and I, that is, we looked into the case. We…"

"We wanted to see if we could bring at least one child home," finished Ziva as she joined them.

"Thanks, guys. I appreciate that you tried."

"There wasn't much, though."

"I know." He met their surprised gazes. "I've checked it myself. I made sure the information is out there. I called in favors, made sure the case is in the NCIC database, ViCAP, NamUs, even CODISmp. I sent family reference samples to the Human Identification Center in Texas. I've just been waiting, hoping that the information I need gets put in the right system. Maybe one day…one day I'll know. We'll know."

"When you do…we will be there for you, McGee."

"Thanks, Ziva."

They all returned to their work as Gibbs entered the bullpen. He walked over to McGee and leaned over to look him in the eye.

"How are you doing, Tim?"

"Good, Boss. I'm doing good."

Gibbs smirked and walked over to his desk to start on the stack of paperwork awaiting his attention. The group worked in relative silence, and when Gibbs left, presumably for coffee, Tony turned to Tim and spoke in a conspiratorial tone.

"So, McVanished, did you figure out the big mystery?"

"You mean of the Triangle?" Tim let out a soft snort. "Believe it or not, Tony, there was a rational explanation for everything that happened: explosions, storms, all of that. Nothing that needs any paranormal qualifiers."

"I was talking about the bigger mystery, Timmy: the one that is known as Leroy Jethro Gibbs. You two had time to bond. What did you and the functional mute talk about?"

"Nothing shocking. Just, you know, normal stuff."

"Yeah, right." Tony thought a minute. "I bet you were wishing for your own Wilson, right McGee?"

"Oh trust me, Tony, Gibbs is a lot more interesting to talk to than a painted volleyball. He's not that much of a mystery, though. You just have to…understand his interests."

"And what would those me, McKnowItAll?"

"Paperwork," said Gibbs as walked to McGee's desk and deposited a cup of coffee before returning to his own seat. "Get back to it."

"Yes, Boss."

McGee raised his cup to Gibbs and took a sip, grimacing slightly at the taste: something else to get used to again. His desk phone rang and he paused a moment before answering.

"McGee."

"There is a discrepancy between the report you and Gibbs prepared and the one I received from the base in Aguadilla," said Vance, sounding like his normal annoyed self. "I'm sending the reports to both you and Gibbs. Check them and get back to me, ASAP."

"Yes, Director."

"In trouble already, McGoo?"

Tim ignored him and opened the file Vance had just sent him. He scanned the reports and after several minutes of searching, he found the difference between the USCG report and the one he and Gibbs had written. The USCG report said:

"…the agents were transported from the vicinity of the wreckage of the Raptor to their reported location by an unknown private vessel, whose crew was reported lost at sea before the vessel ran aground and was later destroyed by a storm. No remains have been recovered…"

Tim felt a surge of anger. How could they miss the name of the boat? He had told them specifically, and now this meant that none of the families of the crew would have been notified. He planned to rectify that as soon as he could, but why hadn't they checked the information he had given?

He quickly accessed the internet and searched for the name and port of call of the vessel, as well as the names of the passengers. He quickly found a notice.

MISSING

Jonathon "Jack" Jones, 31, Nerys Hudson Jones, 30, Arthur Hudson, 26,

Brigham Owens, 32, Alice Martin Owens, 30.

These individuals set sail from Hamilton aboard Jones' vessel Whirlwind on the 3rd of August, and were last seen leaving Cat Island Harbour in the Bahamas on the 14th of August, bound for St. Thomas Island. Anyone having any information about this vessel or crew should contact Mr. David Allen Jones, Esq.

The notice included a picture and the sight of it made Tim's heart ache. The group was perhaps a bit less tan, and a lot less rumpled, but they were the same people that had saved him, and Gibbs from a terrible fate.

With new determination, he pulled out his cell phone to dial the number listed. Just before he pushed the first button, something else on the notice, a bit of information he has missed, caught his eye and he froze in disbelief.

That's impossible…it must be a mistake.

He checked for more information, more notices, and the few pieces he found only confirmed what he had read.

The Whirlwind, and her crew of five, had vanished en route to St Thomas, somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle…five years ago.

"What's a matter, McGee? You look like you've seen a ghost."

You have no idea…

"Uh, Gibbs? I need you to take a look at something."

The lead agent walked over to McGee's desk and leaned over his shoulder. "What?"

Silently McGee pointed at the screen and Gibbs started to read the information. He heard the older man suck in a sharp breath and he turned to him with wide, questioning eyes.

"Boss?"

Gibbs remained silent for several moments. Finally he turned to McGee and said in a low voice. "It looks like the base's report is going to be the official version. Better fix our report."

"But Boss, what…I mean, how…?"

Gibbs let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "Well, Tim, I guess there's still a mystery out there, after all."

The End

The databases Tim mentions are: the National Crime Information Center (NCIC) Violent Criminal Apprehension Program (ViCAP), Combined DNA Index System Missing Persons file (CODISmp) and the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System (NamUs), all of which are useful in solving missing person and unidentified human remains cases.

Pop culture references: Gilligan's Island and Castaway.

Thus ends my second longest completed fic. Next up for completion: Things to Do in D.C. When You're Dead

Thanks for reading!