16

16

A/N: This is a different kind of story and it's personal for me. I am not sure how it will translate for you, but if you like it, let me know. It should be 4-6 long chapters. Sheila

Legacy of the Royals

Chapter 1

McGee looked at the time on his computer and then at Gibbs. Gibbs was still deep in a file he was reading. They had a lunch date. He'd formally asked him over email and confirmed in person to lunch at 1 p.m. on the 5th of October. It was now 1:10 p.m. and the boss wasn't moving. McGee could say something, but that would bring attention to the fact he was taking the boss to lunch- a fact he'd carefully concealed from DiNozzo. There would be questions and teasing, and this lunch was nobody else's business.

He shifted again in his chair and considered a strategic clearing of the throat when Tony called out. "What's up with you, McADHD? Got ants in your pants?"

McGee blushed and concentrated on his screen. He caught a glimpse of Gibbs and thought he saw the man's mouth twitch as if to suppress a smile.

"Okay, what's up, McGeek? You act like you got a date or something."

McGee was trying to formulate a response when Gibbs took off his glasses and stood. "In fact, DiNozzo, he does have a date. I asked him to lunch."

That got everyone's attention. Quality time with the boss came at a premium. Even Ziva looked up. It was moments like these that clarified why McGee would take a bullet for the man. He got up and collected his backpack and gun just in case they got a call out while at lunch.

"Why does he get a lunch with you? I've never had lunch with you. In fact, you don't go out to lunch with anybody. Is this a new thing? Are you going to be asking me and Ziva to lunch as well? Sort of a 'thanks for all the hard work' thing."

"Nope," Gibbs said as he strode past Tony's desk, McGee scrambling along after him.

…..

Gibbs peered at him over a half eaten steak sandwich. "Okay, what's on your mind, McGee? Paying for a nice restaurant and everything- I haven't been wooed this much since wife #3 set her sights on me. You got a job offer you want to tell me about? Vance promised me he wasn't going to make any more offers without letting me know about them. That Okinawa thing really took me by surprise."

McGee finished chewing a bite from his chicken sandwich. "It's nothing like that. I'd never take another job without talking to you first, Boss."

"I don't want you turning down good offers because of your loyalty to the team."

"I'm good, Boss. Seriously."

"So am I supposed to guess what inspired this lunch invitation?"

McGee put down his half eaten sandwich and nodded. "Well, I was going…to talk to you about how much you work. You know, I want to talk to you about…taking better care of yourself."

Gibbs' brows went up. "This from the guy whom I have to tell to go home every evening."

McGee considered his reply carefully. "I'm young, and I still have a lot to prove."

"Not to me."

McGee looked down at his plate for a long moment. "I'll just say it then. I think you should take some time off."

"Okay?" Gibbs watched him closely.

"And I have just the thing for you. I think you should take 3 days next week."

Gibbs blinked in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah," McGee couldn't meet his eyes. "You see, I won this raffle and I got a two night vacation at a resort in the mountains, and it has to be for next week, and I can't use it so I thought you could use it. It would give you a chance to recharge."

"In the middle of a work week."

"You got plenty of vacation time, Boss."

"And it has to be next week?"

"Yeah, those are the dates on the tickets. It's a good resort and there's fishing and…they have a restaurant. It'll be relaxing for you."

"Why can't you go?"

"Uh…I'm saving up my vacation time."

"Really. Last I checked you'd banked close to 35 days. What are you planning to do- take a trip around the world?"

McGee blushed and focused on his sandwich.

Gibbs leaned forward. "I try to tell myself that your inability to lie well is restricted to your relationship with me. I hope to hell you'll be better at it if I ever put you undercover."

McGee looked up, frowning. "Can't you just take the damn trip?"

"No. If I call them, I bet I'm going to find out that it's been paid for with your credit card, Tim. Why do you want me out of the way next week? Could it be the admiral's upcoming visit?"

McGee's eyes widened. "How did you know? He already contacted Vance, didn't he?"

"Yes he did. I got the email this morning." Gibbs pushed his plate away. "So you don't want your father to meet me."

McGee frowned. "It's not like that, Boss. My dad is…he doesn't understand what I do and why I do it. He doesn't…understand you."

Gibbs sat back in the booth and nodded. "Okay. I think I get it. Your father doesn't like me, correct?"

"He doesn't know you."

"Exactly. Plenty of people don't like me, but they usually wait until they meet me first. Your dad is ahead of the curve here."

"It's not you." McGee looked miserable.

"Tim, I know you and your dad don't talk very much. I also get the feeling that the two of you used to be close."

McGee looked down at the table. "It's complicated."

"Yeah, but somehow I'm in the middle of it so it would be helpful for me to know a little bit more."

He sighed. "I was always a good son. Tried to do what my dad wanted. Wanted to make him proud, but I'm not really built to be part of the admiralty. My dad says he let me go to FLETC as a means of toughening me. I worked at Norkolk while he- we considered my options, and then you put me on your team. Being on your team was no picnic but I felt like I belonged. I loved the work."

"And your dad got mad at this?"

"Right after Kate died, he came to town to see me. He'd found a place for me. An amazing offer, really. He got me a spot at Stanford working on submarine technology. I could work for the Navy and earn my doctorate at the same time."

Gibbs studied him carefully. "Sounds perfect for you."

He nodded. "I know. A great opportunity. The problem was that I already liked what I was doing, and you were teaching me how to be my own man and I liked that. I passed on his offer. We didn't talk for seven years after that."

"He blames me for this."

McGee winced. "I might as well tell you the extent of it. He calls you a Svengali. Says that I have a slavish devotion to you."

Gibbs looked at him with raised eyebrows. "You've tried to tell him this is nonsense?"

"Oh yeah."

"Why is your dad coming to visit?"

"I don't know. He says he wants to discuss a project with Vance, but he and I have been talking more lately, and he's been strange. I'm sort of worried about him."

"Okay. Good to know."

McGee leaned forward. "Boss, I just don't want him to be rude to you when he comes. You don't deserve that."

Gibbs snorted. "Don't worry about me. Your dad is not going to hurt my feelings. You need to focus on fixing your relationship with him. Dads are important. Reconnecting with my dad was one of the best decisions I ever made."

…..

"Timmy! Timmy! I heard your dad is coming." Abby appeared in the bullpen, ponytails bouncing.

McGee looked up, startled. "How did you find that out?"

"Pamela. I can't wait to meet him."

A smile spread across Tony's face. "The Great Santini is coming! I can't wait to see this."

Abby cocked her head. "Why didn't you tell us he was coming?"

"Uh, he's only going to be here for a couple of hours. It hardly qualifies for a visit."

Gibbs took his glasses off, watching McGee carefully.

"But McGee, it is an event for us. Your grandmother was so charming," Ziva said.

"Well, my dad is never going to be described as charming."

"What should I wear, Tim? I want to impress him. He's an admiral so no skulls or spikes. I want to look good for him."

McGee shrugged. "I think you always look good. Besides, he probably won't have time to get down to your lab."

She stomped her foot. "Come on! Help me out here! I don't want him to get the wrong impression."

McGee threw up his arms. "It doesn't matter what he thinks. Who cares if he likes you or not?!"

"I care, McGee. I've always wanted to meet your mom and dad, and I don't want to screw it up." Abby bit her lower lip.

"Abby, if I had my way, he wouldn't be coming at all. You don't know him. He's a… not a…easy kind of person."

"You don't think he'll like me, do you? You're embarrassed to introduce him to me, aren't you?"

He stood. "No Abs, it's not that. I'm never embarrassed…you're the greatest. It's not about you. I promise."

"It doesn't sound that way to me." Her chin trembled and then she ran out of the bullpen.

"Abs!" He called after her but she'd already disappeared into an open elevator. He turned to Gibbs. "Boss, can I go down to the lab?"

He shook his head. "Get back to work. You need to save this personal nonsense for later."

McGee sat down slowly. He looked over at Ziva. "What did I say wrong?"

She looked at Gibbs and then mouthed. "We'll talk later."

"And you're supposed to be the sensitive one, McScrew-up. Way to go," Tony muttered under his breath.

Gibbs looked up sharply. "I swear to God, DiNozzo, if you don't get an address on our suspect in the next ten minutes, I'm going to head slap you into next week."

…..

Two hours later, Dorneget walked into the bullpen carrying a bouquet of purple roses. He walked up to McGee's desk and held them out. "I believe these are for you."

McGee looked around Dorneget at Gibbs. "Twenty minutes, Boss? I hate it when she's mad at me."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Fifteen and I'm timing you."

"I thought Abby liked black roses," Tony said.

"She likes all kinds of unique things, Tony," McGee said as he grabbed the bouquet from Dornie and headed for the elevator.

He walked into her lab while she was working on some samples and cleared his throat. She looked up at him and the bouquet and blinked, "Purple?"

He shrugged. "Everyone always gets you black. I wanted to bring you something new."

"Gibbs let you come down?"

"He knows that the work suffers when we're fighting."

"We're not fighting, Tim. You hurt my feelings. There's a difference."

He walked up and put the flowers in her arms. "My dad and I don't get along very well. You know that. I'm nervous that he's going to come and be critical of my life here and the things I love."

She breathed in the roses and looked at him. "The things you love?"

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?"

He couldn't meet her eyes. "I think it's just a scary conversation for both of us, and if we got up the courage to have it, I don't know what might happen. Don't you ever wonder about that?"

She nodded. He looked down at his watch. "I gotta' be back at my desk in 4 minutes. When my dad comes, I promise that you'll meet him, but I don't want you to dress special. I just want you to be you. Okay?"

She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "Okay, Timmy."

…

"Dress whites," Tony remarked as the group stepped out of the elevator.

McGee's head popped up from his work. Three men and a woman appeared in their dress whites followed by a tall man with salt and pepper hair and intense brown eyes. McGee's gut seized. He whispered, "Surprise inspection. I should've known."

Tony's eyes widened. "He doesn't look much like you."

Ziva stood and looked over her partition. "He is quite distinguished."

"Looks like he brought his posse," Tony observed.

Tim stood, sighing deeply as a middle-aged commander strode forward and captured his hand. "Tim, it's been too long!"

"Hey Willie. I thought you'd be out of this game by now."

The man smiled. "What would happen if we left the old man to his own devices?"

Tim smiled softly. "Too scary to contemplate, I'm sure."

The uniforms parted and the dark eyes took a moment to look him over. Tim responded in kind. He noted the extra pounds around his father's waist and he hesitated at the cane his father leaned on heavily.

"What's wrong with your leg, Dad?"

"It's been a long time, Son. You look good."

"And you look like you got a bad leg. Wanna' tell me about it."

Admiral McGee grunted. "An old injury aggravated by age and too many donuts."

"Isn't that the cane that Grandpa used when he got sick?"

"Timothy! Focus! I haven't seen you in almost eight years."

Tim blinked. "You're a day early."

"Couldn't risk that you would find a way to be unavailable."

"Come on, Dad. Do we need an audience for this?"

The admiral turned to Tony and extended a hand. "I take it that you are the incomparable Anthony DiNozzo Jr."

"Yes sir, I am," Tony said as the man shook his hand firmly.

"My son says you always have his back."

"He does?"

"It's a pleasure meet such a good friend of Tim's."

Before Tony could react, the admiral had turned to Ziva. "And you must be the lovely Ziva David. I've met your father many times and I have great respect for him."

"I didn't realize," she said.

He grasped her hand in both of his, smiling warmly. "Tim is lucky to have such a fierce and loyal friend."

"He inspires that in people, Admiral."

"I have no doubt." The admiral's eyes scanned the room. "And where is the great and mighty Gibbs?"

"He didn't realize you were storming the beaches this morning. I believe he is up with Director Vance."

The admiral's eyes scanned the bullpen. "This is your work space or are there offices?"

Tim stiffened. "This is our space."

"And that is your desk?"

Tim glanced back at his corner space. "Yes."

"My file clerk has a better desk than that and an office."

"Dad, I am part of a Major Case Response Team. I am in the field a good deal of the time, and it is not conducive to teamwork for us to be in separate offices."

"But this is the same desk you had nine years ago."

Tim took a deep breath but before he could respond, a familiar voice sounded behind the admiral. "Yes, it is, Admiral and it's the same chair although I can say that he's gone through three different computers in that time. I should know as it took a helluva' lot of finagling to get them replaced."

The admiral turned. "Special Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs extended a hand. "Admiral McGee."

The admiral nodded as they shook hands. "You're exactly the steely-eyed bastard I imagined you'd be."

"Likewise, Admiral."

For a moment, the two men studied each other silently. Then Vance appeared. "Admiral, it's good to finally meet you."

"Director Vance, thank you for rescheduling my visit on such short notice."

"Not a problem. We're all set up in the conference room upstairs."

The admiral turned to Tim. "My time in D.C. is short, and I am sorry it is rather packed with meetings. I'm being whored out to lobbyists and legislators regarding some new propulsion technologies. I've cleared my schedule this evening for an early dinner. I have drinks with a couple of weasels from Boeing at 9 p.m. Can you make it at around 6 p.m.?"

Tim hesitated. "We're in the middle of a case, Dad."

"It's been eight years."

"He'll be available," Gibbs said.

The admiral flashed eyes at him. "Thank you so much for your permission, Gibbs."

Tim held his breath as his father turned and followed Vance up the stairs, his staff trailing behind. He turned to Gibbs. "I'm sorry, Boss."

"Please. That wasn't nothing at all, McGee. Now get back to work."

….

"He was kind of mesmerizing, you know."

"Let it go, Tony. He is just a man."

Tony shook his head. "He's like Gibbs except he's not. Gibbs is a lone wolf while the admiral is a rock star with an entourage. He could probably order a missile strike on Gibbs' house if he wanted."

Ziva shrugged. "Gibbs would undoubtedly survive, and then take him out with a single shot between the eyes. It is an even match."

"I kind of liked him. I mean, I really liked him."

She sighed. "He is very confident- charming even."

"Doesn't remind me of McGee at all. Do you think Probie's adopted?"

The elevator opened and Ziva threw her pen at him. "Shhhh! He's back from dinner."

McGee walked past both of them, head down.

"Hey McProdigal Son! How was dinner with the admiral?"

McGee ignored him as he opened his computer.

Ziva frowned. "McGee, was dinner okay?"

Tim looked up, his face deeply flushed. "Please don't ask me about it."

There was almost a desperate tone to his voice and it shut his teammates down. They all returned to work on leads, and after awhile Gibbs drifted in and sat at his desk. He could sense the tension but said nothing.

Finally Tony looked up at the clock and sighed. "It's 9 p.m. I say we knock off for the night. We haven't gone out for a drink as a team for a while. What do you say we go to O'Gara's for a cold one before we go home?"

"Yes, let's do that," Ziva said as she packed up her desk. There's nothing here that can't wait for the morning."

Tim looked up. "I was already out to dinner. Need to catch up on some things. I'm going to have to pass."

"Come on, Probie. It's clear you had a rough night. We won't pry. Seriously. I'm buying."

McGee shook his head. "Not tonight. Thanks guys."

"Are you sure?"

Gibbs looked up. "Tony, that's enough. We'll see the two of you tomorrow."

He waited until the bullpen was empty and then he nodded at McGee. "How did it go?"

McGee rubbed at his face. "It was terrible."

"Spill."

"He offered me another job. Jet propulsion this time at UC-Davis. It would be only an hour away from him and my mom."

"Tim, you love jet propulsion technology."

"Yeah, I do."

"He wants you near home."

"It would be a disaster. We can't be civil for a few short hours. How the hell would we handle seeing each other on a regular basis?"

"He loves you. He's your father and he wants you nearby. This is a good thing."

"Do you think we didn't see each other all this time just because I was avoiding him? He's just as bad. I don't want to hate him, Boss."

"Tim, think about all the years I lost with my dad because we were a couple of stubborn fools. Don't make that mistake."

McGee swallowed. "I don't know what to do. I can't take that job. It's not the path I've chosen for my life. I have to be my own man. I want so hard for this to work, but when I see him, the resentment just boils over."

"Take it slow. The two of you have time."

McGee shook his head. "I don't think we do, Boss. I think my dad is dying."

Gibbs straightened. "What did he say?"

"Nothing but you saw him with that cane."

"People don't die of limps, Tim."

"It's my Grandfather's cane. He started using it when I was 12 and he died when I was 13. He had ALS, a motor neuron disease, otherwise known as Lou Gehrig's disease. He and Penny were living on base near us at the time. I got to see him almost every day. It's such a dreadful disease. It steals muscle strength not only from your limbs but from your lungs and other organs as well. Your body just shuts down bit by bit, but your brain stays sharp the whole time. It was terrible to see him like that."

"It still doesn't mean he has ALS."

"There's a type of ALS that's inherited. There was some reason to believe that my grandfather had that type. Penny talked to me about it once. I hacked into my dad's schedule this evening when I got back. My dad had an appointment at the Georgetown University ALS clinic tonight. He has a follow up appointment in a couple of days."

"You can't hack for answers to everything. It's not right. You have to talk to him."

Tim picked up his backpack and swung it over his shoulder. He stood up, his face sad and weary. "I can't think of a single thing to say to the man. I need to go home and be alone for a while, Boss."

Gibbs watched as he slowly walked out of the bullpen.

…..

The hope chest he was working on was cherry wood. He loved how the stain brought out the rich red hues, and he took his time making sure that it got an even coat. He knew he was going to have to explain the concept of a hope chest to Ziva when he gave it to her, but he also knew how deeply she would appreciate the handcrafted gift. It was 1 a.m. and he should've knocked off by now. He had recently committed to getting at least 5 hours of sleep a night, but he couldn't get McGee's sad eyes out of his head.

Creaking sounded on the steps, and his head shot up. He couldn't think who would be visiting at this time of night. Loafers appeared and then slacks, and Gibbs put down his brush as Admiral James McGee appeared. The admiral was out of uniform and in casual clothes as he stepped off the stairs into Gibbs' basement. "Vance had to convince me that it would be acceptable to walk into your house uninvited and go down to your basement. I apologize for the intrusion."

Gibbs nodded. "It's acceptable. What can I do for you, Admiral?"

"I need help with my son. You seem to understand him better than I do."

Gibbs pulled his bourbon off a shelf and emptied a coffee mug. "Can I offer you a drink?"

"Under the circumstances, it would be most welcome," the admiral said as he accepted the cup.

"Tim told me about the job offer."

"You think I'm here to enlist your help in getting him to take it, but I'm not. It was a boneheaded move on my part. I know he's trying to be his own man. Sometimes, my need to control gets the better of me."

"He's not just a field agent. He's very special."

"That's what Vance tells me. I get caught up in what I see as his potential and I'm afraid I worry that his loyalty to you is going to come before his good judgment."

"I'm not trying to hold him back. He does very important work, and when he's ready to move on, I'll be the first one to encourage him."

"He told me you would say that."

Gibbs sighed. "My relationship with my father has been rocky, but we've reconnected, and that's meant everything to me. I know how important it is to Tim to have you in his life, and the last thing I want to do is to interfere with that."

"I have to stop seeing you as competition. I need to make you an ally."

"I'm Tim's ally first and foremost. If you're straight with him, I'll do whatever I can to help."

"What does that mean?"

"He knows about your visit to the ALS clinic. He's very worried."

McGee groaned. "Damn him. I'm not even going to ask what he did to get at my personal information."

"I didn't know about it until after he did it."

"I don't have ALS, Gibbs."

"You were struggling down those stairs, and those appointments suggest otherwise."

"I have an old hamstring injury confirmed by an orthopedist and a neurologist at the ALS clinic."

"After you're done yelling at him about hacking your schedule, you be sure to tell him that."

Admiral McGee surprised him by sitting down on the stairs. "He has no idea what's really going on, and if I can help it, he'll never know."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "Are you sick, Admiral?"

"No, but I think he might be."

Gibbs tensed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"My father had ALS, and his brother died of it many years earlier. That suggests that it's a rare form of ALS that's familial. Researchers have found a gene mutation in people with familial ALS. Not everyone carries it, but the people who do have an increased chance of getting the disease. I've had genetic testing done on me, and I carry that mutation."

"So you could very well get the disease."

"I'm sixty five years old. The peak time for the onset of symptoms passed me by five years ago. My doctor thinks it's unlikely that I will get sick at this point."

Gibbs closed his eyes. "You think Tim has this mutation."

"I don't know, but in a few years, he's going to enter the peak time for the onset of symptoms."

"And you want him to get tested."

The admiral grunted. "Without his knowledge. I don't want him to live with this hanging over his head. It would be too much of a burden."

"How are you going to do this without his permission?"

He shrugged. "I'm an admiral. I got a sample of his DNA from the Navy. It's already being tested. I'll get the results in two days."

"What about Sarah?"

"She was in a car accident last year. I got a sample from the hospital and sent it in. She's safe."

"Admiral, it's probably best not to know."

He shook his head. "I can't help it. I am consumed by this. He's my son, and as much as we struggle, I only want his happiness."

"If he has this gene mutation, is there anything that can be done to prevent him from getting sick?"

The admiral shook his head slowly. Gibbs could see the pain set deeply in his eyes.

"Then what good can this possibly do?"

"I want the nightmares to stop. I keep picturing him sick and struggling to breath…" He closed his eyes and swallowed. "And if he ever decides to have children, he should know that there is a risk of passing it on."

"If you had known about the mutation you had, maybe you wouldn't have had Tim and Sarah. What a loss that would've been to the world."

"You want me to know that this is an old man's obsession and you're probably right."

"Admiral, you and I don't know what the next week is going to bring, let alone the next 20 years. This predicting the future business is no good."

"What if it was your Kelly? What would you do?"

Gibbs flinched. The man had done his homework on him, and it left him unsettled. He took another swig off the bottle of bourbon.

"Gibbs, can you help me reconnect with my son?"

Gibbs looked at him long and hard. "Maybe, but you're going to have to clear your head of everything you think you knew about him, and get to know who he is now."

He nodded slowly. "I can't waste any more time. I'll do it"

Gibbs shook his head. "This is a bad idea, but I'm going to try it for him."

"Anything."

"Cancel your schedule for the next two days. I want you in the bullpen at 8 a.m. tomorrow, civilian dress. You're going to spend the next two days on my team watching your son in action. You get out of line just once and I'll boot you so fast, it'll make your head spin. I'm not playing, Admiral."

"Either we're going to end this thing as friends or I'm going to be looking to meet up with you in a back alley to beat your ass when this is all over."

"Your choice, Admiral."

He snorted. "If I'm going to be your bitch for the next two days, you might as well start calling me Jim."

…

TBC…