Shards To A Whole: Chapter 264

McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.


Chapter 264: Clan Gibbs

When Gibbs was a child, church, Sunday dinner, and gathering with the whole family had been part of every week. It wasn't a huge gathering, not like this never-ending crowd of Slaters, but his parents, his Aunt, her family, his grandparents, and their siblings, all got together.

But in his family, the women were the glue. His grandmother died, and Sunday dinner limped along for a few years, his mom and his aunt keeping it going. But his mom got sick, and then she died, and his aunt didn't have the heart to do it on her own.

Shannon had lived in Stillwater when they were courting, and when he was in town, he went to church and Sunday supper at their home.

They'd moved around a lot, finally gotten settled in DC, and his mother and father-in-law eventually moved down, wanting to be closer to Kelly and Shannon. His dad even made it down a few times a year.

For two years, Sunday dinner was at his house. He doesn't think about that too much. Not that they aren't good memories. They are. But like a lot of his good memories, they hurt. Though that's starting to get better. Maybe not good, but it's not an open wound held together by tendrils of avenging anger and numbing booze anymore.

But like his birth family, the women were the glue, and when his girls died…

This time though, he's here for his boys. He's glad to see Tim giving Jimmy some back-up on this. Visiting your in-laws shouldn't be walking into a lion's den, but if it is, it's good to have friends at your back. And if they're going to invite him to come along, he'll come along and keep an eye on Jimmy's flanks.

Like with Tim's first visit, he's very aware that no one in this family is going out of their way to make Jimmy welcome.

Not that Gibbs is known for hospitality, but there is a bottle of Gin (And a bottle of Absinthe is in the works for a birthday present. No, it's not legal in the US. Some favors are in the process of being called in, and buddy of a buddy who'll getting home on leave soon should have a few bottles stowed in his luggage.) in his basement next to the Scotch and Bourbon.

There's black coffee strong enough to peel the tar off the roof, and it was handed to him by Jeannie within seconds of him entering her home. And sure, it may not be there for just him, but he doesn't notice anyone else drinking it.

So, he's welcome, and judging by the fact that no one else is drinking coffee, they have gone out of their way to extend a welcome to him.

But not to Jimmy.

The girls are mingling easily. Abby's been getting some interested looks. If he had to guess, she's explained her tattoos about nine times. But it's mostly curious, not much hostile. Though Abby being Abby tends to smother hostile with warm happiness.

And Kelly's got an adoring collection of bigger girls cooing over her. Something about tween girls, they like babies, especially darling little ones in a tiny pink sun dress. (Apparently Abby and Tim decided Kelly didn't need to break out the goth-wear for church.)

Of course, this is probably a very girl friendly house. His always was. Kelly and her little tribe of buddies giggling in his backyard, he can remember that very clearly, smiles a little at it.

Tim and Jimmy tend to stay together, and near him. They don't mingle as easily, but conversation around this group tends to range from business issues, to the Nationals, (Turns out Jimmy's a fan. Gibbs takes some ribbing for the Pirates, but the look of death killed it pretty fast. Then the idea that Tim doesn't have a team percolates through, and apparently that had about the same effect as walking into the Slaters' in a skirt and eyeliner. Wedding ring, baby daughter in his arms, wife who he's kissed a few times, it doesn't matter, the collection of Slater Uncles and Cousins are fairly sure he's gay. Can't be a man without a team. Tim just rolled his eyes.) and back to the business.

They spend so much time in their own little NCIS world, where everyone knows everyone else, that Gibbs has never had to really think much about who he is in relation to these people he's collected into his family. But, this isn't NCIS. The various Slaters have met him maybe three times.

He's a vaguely familiar face somehow attached to Jimmy.

And of course, there are some stories, and they can see who he came in with, but, "Oh, you're Tim and Abby's…" and that's how that sentence goes. It just sort of trails off, because they don't know where he fits.

First time it happens he just lets it go. Doesn't answer. Smiles, nods, shakes hands, moves onto the next introduction.

Second time, he catches Tim's eye, (Wants to make sure this is okay with him. He knows Abby'll be good with what he wants to say.) and Tim nods, knowing what that look means. So he says, "Kind of complicated, but Dad'll cover it."

"I thought you were Jimmy's boss." Breena's cousin says.

He shook his head. "Duck's Jimmy's Boss. I'm Tim's, or used to be, until last week."

"Long as you're there, you're still my Boss," Tim says.

"Something happen?" The cousin, Fred, asks.

"I'm retiring in January. He's taking over his own department soon. New member of the team just joined up. Slid Tony into the Boss slot to make everything run better."

"Oh." Fred doesn't seem to get that, but he's willing to nod and smile.

"It's disappointing, right?" Ed says. Gibbs had been standing on the back porch, leaning against the railing, watching the kids run around the backyard, grabbing a few minutes of quiet. (Okay, it's not quiet, there are five shrieking kids playing something tag-like, but it's also not making small talk with strangers. Maybe restful is a better word.) Ed joining him wasn't exactly what he was hoping for for this moment.

Ed's looking at him expectantly. Gibbs raises his eyebrows a bit.

"You have girls, and you want something for them, a kind of future, a man strong enough to be a… man. And they bring home these cute, fluffy things and expect you to think that they'll make great husbands."

It's possible that Ed isn't talking about Jimmy, though Gibbs doesn't think that's the case, but he might as well make sure. So he looks, pointedly, through the sliding glass door separating them from the dining room, at the twit that Amy's got hanging on her arm. Handbag, that's what Tony'd call him. And, really, he's probably not a bad guy, but as a cute, fluffy thing goes, he'll fit the bill.

Ed sighs. "Yeah. Him, too. He's a 'consultant' for graphic design firms. I think that's code for unemployed. I run a successful business, and she brings me a long line of unemployed or barely employed guys. But, you're a Marine, all Hoo Rah, and… your girls brought you the Clown and Tech Support. At least DiNozzo looks like he's got some backbone hiding under that Clown exterior."

Gibbs gives him a long, cold look.

"You, me, we aren't going to be around forever, and they pick cute. Cute doesn't keep the wolf from the door."

Gibbs' look was nearing absolute zero.

Ed is watching Amy talk with the Handbag, leaning into him, hanging on his every word as he strokes her back. "I worry for them. Don't want push to come to shove and for them to find out they've got no one to back them up."

And, yes, that resonates with Gibbs, but, nope, no one is saying that about his boys. "You think I know tough when I see it?"

Ed looks away from Amy to him. "Sure."

"Think I've seen my fair share of losers and creeps?"

"Probably yours are a few others."

Gibbs nods; that's true. "I am not disappointed in Jimmy, Tim or Tony. There are five men I trust with my life. Four of 'em I want at my back in a fight, and two of them are in your home right now, one's married to your daughter. Wolf comes to the door, Jimmy'll snap it's neck, and before it stops twitching, Tim'll shoot it between the eyes from 200 meters away with a hand gun. All of my boys are capable of defending their own nests, and they watch each other's as well.

"He was a cute fluffy thing." Gibbs remembered Jimmy from 2002. Cute and fluffy, good way to describe him. "I thought Jimmy was goofy as Hell when I first met him. But he's not anymore. He's as strong as any man needs to be. Losing a child ruins men. It breaks them, wounds them so they never get back up again. You see the funeral. I see what happens months, years, later. Jimmy didn't leave when they lost Jon, he didn't break, and he didn't let your daughter or granddaughter down. Push came to shove, and shoved him hard enough to flatten another man. Jimmy stood through it. You're worried he's not strong enough to be the man your daughter needs, then you're not looking. Man's made of steel. He wasn't when they started dating, but he is now."

Ed doesn't look like he knows what to do with that. Finally he says, "You can pick anyone in the world at your back, and you'd take Jimmy?"

"Any man in the world: Jimmy for hand to hand. Tim for a fire fight. Tony if there's a shot of talking our way out. Tobias if it's time to go out in a blaze of glory. And I want Duck somewhere safe, but able to see it all, for counsel."

Ed thinks about what Gibbs said for a moment and then says, "Any man. Let me guess, if we're talking anyone, it's Ziva for hand to hand, Ziva in a fire fight, Tony for talking his way out, and Fornell for the last stand."

Gibbs shrugs, that's not precisely wrong, but… "Not anymore."

That stuns Ed, more than anything else Gibbs has said.

"She's still a better fighter than the boys. Should be too, she's younger and trained for it her whole life. She's a better fighter than I am. Better than Tony. Jimmy can go six minutes with her, which is four more than I can—"

"Four more than you could have at thirty-seven?"

"She was thirteen when I was thirty-seven."

Ed gives him the, I know what you're doing look, but doesn't say anything else.

"I'm pretty sure she's not. But these days, there's always a shot she's pregnant, so, if there's any chance of getting her out of the fight, of making sure she's not the one at my back, I'd take it. Not gonna happen because she's stubborn as hell, but if it's my choice, she won't be in the line of fire."

Ed nods at that. He understands that in his bones. Women and children first, even if the woman in question is Ziva DiNozzo.

The sermon popped into Gibbs' mind. "You paying any attention to the sermon?"

Ed nods. "Enough."

"God gives us the lessons we need to learn in the people around us. That was the point of it. I don't think He forgot you when He was handing out lessons."

Ed smiles at that, acknowledging the point. "So, what am I teaching you?"

"Same thing He's trying to teach you with Jimmy, see the man inside the man."

"And what's your gut saying?"

"You're a jerk, but a good dad."

"Back at you."

"You could be a good father-in-law, too. Could be a great dad and make that daughter you love beyond anything else a whole lot happier by not treating her man like the enemy."

Ed shrugs at that. And Gibbs gets that as much as Ed does worry for his girls. As much as there is genuine concern, there's also a very large serving of him not wanting to be a good father-in-law, of him not wanting to share his daughters with another man. There's absolutely nothing wrong with Jimmy; other than the fact that he's not Ed.

Jimmy headed out a few minutes later. "'Bout time for us to head off."

Gibbs nods. He turns to Ed. "Thanks for the invite."

"You're welcome. Any and every Sunday, we're here."

This time the nod is aimed at Ed, not Jimmy.

Then Ed checked his watch. "Thought you said Bootcamp was at four?"

Gibbs nods, yet again. Ed had been asking about what it is they do on Sunday afternoons.

"It's ten past two."

"Yep."

"Doesn't take you that long to get downtown."

Jimmy lifts the corners of his mouth in a manner that could be called a smile, if you weren't paying attention or didn't know him well. "Gotta eat first, Ed."

"Of course. You're in a house full of food, but you've got to go out to eat."

Jimmy stiffened slightly. He could just take it, let it roll over him, like he does every week. But Gibbs is standing right next to him, watching, and he catches the faint, do it, you need to flavor of his look.

So he does. "Yeah, Ed, I need to eat. I need to eat every few hours when I'm awake, otherwise my blood sugar crashes, and that's a bad thing. And I'm standing next to a house full of food. Food all over the place." He looks at the cup in Gibbs' hand. "I see you've got Gibbs' drink. He's never been here before. You've only met him four times. But you've got exactly what he likes." Jimmy nods again, that not quite smile still on his face. He sighs. "But, yes, I have to leave your home to find food that won't make me sick. And I've got to do it soon, otherwise I'll start to feel woozy and won't have the energy for Bootcamp. So, it's time for us to go." Jimmy turned toward the patio door.

"Fine, go find food 'that doesn't make you sick.'" Ed rolls his eyes. "But really, how much energy can this take? According to Gibbs you mostly fight with Tim, and he's the precision shooter, not the muscle. Gibbs and Ziva train you, not fight you. When it's time to fight, you go up against the other skin and bones toothpick who's best skill is a gun."

Jimmy turns slowly back toward Ed, exhaling quietly. Gibbs is still flashing him the do it, you need to look at him. "Okay, Ed, you want to see what a workout looks like when a Marine and a Mossad-trained assassin are in charge of putting you through your paces? You want to see what training looks like? You want to see what us skin and bone toothpicks can do? Want to see how good even the least talented member of our team is when it comes to fighting? Hell, you want to take a shot at me? We meet up at four. Get your ass over to the Navy Yard and find out for yourself."

They're walking out of the house and Gibbs says quietly to him. "Glad you did it."

"Wonderful. Let's see if I can do this without embarrassing myself."

Gibbs puts his hand on Jimmy's shoulder. "You won't."

"Who are you texting?" Tim asks as he and Gibbs grab a table, and Jimmy orders himself some lunch.

"Letting Ziva know what's up."

"Stacking the deck in Jimmy's favor?"

Gibbs nods. "Like you're not going to pull your punches?"

"Not too much, I mean, I don't have to, not anymore. When we play to our own strengths, he's better. But he's going to be nervous, so I'll make sure it's close, but I don't intend to win any of our fights today."

"Exactly. Ziva's not going to throw any of them, but she'll probably move a little slower, telegraph her moves a little clearer."

Jimmy sits down, grilled salmon salad, bowl of three bean soup, and a diet Pepsi on a tray.

"How crazy is it that I can find a better low-carb lunch at a bakery than at my in-laws' house?"

Tim shrugs. They did this last week, and he had to admit, pulling into a Panera after leaving the land of carbs seemed strange to him. But, it is one of the few places Jimmy can get a decent lunch, fast.

"So this is what, fight club for geeks?" Ed asks, two minutes after finding Tim, Jimmy, and Gibbs at the NCIS gym.

"Come on, Ed, if you know enough to ask that question, you know the first rule of Fight Club." Tony says as he and Ziva enter.

"Tony?" Jimmy asks. Both Tim and Jimmy are pretty surprised to see him here today. He's never come to Bootcamp, probably for the same reason that Gibbs rarely fights. He's got a position and getting his ass kicked is not conductive to keeping it.

"Heard Ed was coming, decided I had to see this," he says with a big smile, clapping his hand on Ed's shoulder as Ziva gives each of the guys a hello hug.

"Great." Last thing Jimmy wants for this was a crowd.

Tony smiles. "Want to see the Gremlin take a bite out of his old man."

"The Gremlin?" Ed looks startled by that.

"What Tony calls Jimmy," Tim adds, you really don't want to know why on his face.

"Why?" Ed asks, starting to sound a little concerned.

Tony just shook his head and looked stern. "You ever see that movie? Sure, Jimmy looks like a stuffed animal, all cute and harmless, but hit the wrong trigger, and he'll mess you up! Breena ever tell you the story about how he drove a car into a suspect who was running away from us?" Ed shook his head. "Nope? It's a good story." Tony nods to the rest of them. "Go get started. I'll keep an eye on Ed." Tim, Jimmy, Gibbs, and Ziva headed off to warm up. "You know, Ed, Fight Club really was a great movie, but so many people forget the twist. Well, not forget it. Everyone knows the twist. They don't internalize it. They watch it and then stuff it in the cool story file, but don't change because of it. Kind of sad really.

"Edward Norton was brilliant in that movie. Starts off so soft and mild, letting everyone push him around. You never expect the twist. He's so good at just blending in and taking it that you never even suspect he's got Tyler Durden hiding in there." He smiles some more at Ed, who's staring to look a little nervous about this.

"Oh, well, enough movie trivia. So, what's your background with this? Jimmy got to this kind of late, but he's catching up, fast. And Tim, well… you've got to be able to fight to be a field agent. Can't pass FLETC without a martial arts proficiency. Me, I played every sport you can think of, and then boxing on top of that. First time I went up against Gibbs, I was dancing around, showing off, telling him how I used to box. I asked him if he'd ever boxed in the Corp, and he said no. So I was thinking I'd take it easy on him, and ten seconds later I was on the floor, and he had my arm pinned behind my back with his knee on my kidney. Then he told me, 'They taught us to fight.' And Ziva, well…" He looks at his wife, who is stretching with Jimmy and Tim, and smiles fondly at her. "Hey, Ziva," he calls out.

"Tony?"

"If you had to sum up your training, how'd you do it?"

She's loosening up, leaning forward, her ankle on the top rope of the ring. "You said, 'They taught Gibbs to fight?'"

"Yep."

"They taught me to kill."

He smiles back at her and says to Ed, "They taught her to kill. And she's good at it. We ever need someone to go in unarmed, it'll be Ziva. So, Ed, you remember the last rule of Fight Club?"

"No."

Tony smiles, he's enjoying this way too much. "If it's your first time at Fight Club, you have to fight."

And while it's true that Tyler Durden's Fight Club turns men from cookie dough to carved wood might not be precisely true, it's close enough. Right now Jimmy and Tim are in the best shape of their lives. (Sure, Tim's not giving Pitt a run for his money muscle-definition-wise, but Jimmy is. This might be the difference between no carbs and just not a whole lot of them.) And Ziva's awfully lean and strong right now, too.

Gibbs has been looking better these last three months. Sure, he's not the guy he was in his Marine days, but… well, he's not getting there, yet, either, but he can see where getting there begins from where he is right now, and hopes to have gotten back to who he used to be within a year (okay, year and a half).

But, with Tony prattling on next to him, filling him in on exactly what they do at Bootcamp (Tony's making a lot of it up, telling a good story, because, that's what he does. Compared to Somali terrorists, playing Ed's like riding a tricycle. But Ed doesn't know that.) Ed's noticing that Jimmy and Tim are indeed thin, but they are not toothpicks.

And they are very, very much not skin and bones.

And he probably, no definitely, doesn't want to get into a fight with either of them.

Jimmy's focusing on Ziva.

He's decidedly not focusing on Ed.

Not at all.

He's not seeing Tony standing there, next to Ed, hand on his shoulder, narrating the action, filling in bits and pieces of stories of how Ziva used to kill or disable men with the moves she's using, and how he's dodging, evading, using her momentum against her.

He's not hearing about how a second slower and that kick would have gotten him in the jaw or how the thumb lock he's using on Ziva right now is something she taught them as a way to easily disable an opponent.

Nope. He's focused on "Ziva." He's so focused on "Ziva" that it's only now occurring to him that she should have handed his ass to him a few minutes ago.

And that actually does snap his attention away from "not focusing on Ed" to really focusing on Ziva. She sees it when she has his whole attention and ups her game to go with it.

That's when he gets it. They are not going to let him look bad. He doesn't have to worry about this, because they've got his back. Ziva's not going to let him win, that'd be way too obvious. But they won't let him look like a twit, either.

And with that he does start to relax and enjoy himself.

That's also, as he spinning on his back leg, landing a kick that Ziva dodged, when he realizes exactly what this is and why Tony's here, too. (And honestly, he wouldn't be shocked if Ducky, Fornell, or Vance were to decide to come play, too. Though he's kind of hoping they don't.)

It's a show of clan strength. The same way dragging the potential son-in-laws to church is for the Slaters. This is his clan, showing off that its strength means the literal ability to end your life should they desire to do so.

He catches Ziva's knee, blocking that hit, planning to use it to toss her off balance, but apparently that's what she wanted him to do, because by doing that, he's got both hands occupied and can't block the punch the follows up. He did manage to get her off balance, but dodging the punch sends him down, too. She's up faster than he is, so it's her round. She offers a hand, and pulls him up.

"Good round. Another?"

"Sure."

"This what they usually do?" Ed asks Tony.

"Sure. Warm up time…"

"That's warm up time?"

Jimmy's on his third round with Ziva. Gibbs and Tim are working with each other.

"Yeah, that's warm up time. Jimmy's better attacking than on defense. So right now, he's up against Ziva. Main thing he's doing is learning how to see what she's going to do next and block it. Tim's thing is precision. Give him a gun and he can hit a dime on the goal post from the fifty yard line, but when it comes to fist and foot, he's not quite that controlled. That's what he's doing with Gibbs, working on making sure he can hit a dime at full speed with his off hand in close combat. I imagine in a few months they'll get to knives, but right now it's all fist and foot."

"Why aren't you doing this?" Ed asks Tony.

Tony shook his head a little. "Do I look stupid to you? I don't want to get into a fight with them. Hell, I don't even like running after perps anymore. You hit a certain age, and you don't want to be a punching bag. Okay, sure, Gibbs is insane, and he likes this stuff, and Tim and Jimmy are endorphin junkies, but I'm not. I like not having bruises. I mean, do you really want to get into a fight with them? Actually, I guess you do, that's why you're here. So, you better start getting warmed up and ready, because if you go at this cold, they'll kill you."

Usually, after working with Ziva, Jimmy and Tim go up against each other. These days those are free fights, no holds barred (Okay, not really, by mutual accord and respect, eyes and balls are off limits, but there's no set rule against it.), do whatever you like, first one to hit the floor loses.

Usually, that's when Gibbs and Ziva regroup, go over strategy, watch what and how they're learning, and plan out what sorts of things the guys need to work on.

But this is very much not a usual week.

And Gibbs already has a plan in place.

He and Tim finish up, and as they're heading toward the ring he says, "You and Jimmy, two rounds, take it easy, Ziva and I'll keep Ed busy. He won't be watching you two much."

Tim nods. He doesn't know where this is going, but he gets the basic instruction here is conserve your energy, more stuff coming up later.

Usually, they go for an hour, hour ten if things are going well, and he knows today is going to run longer than that.

So, as Ziva slips out from between the ropes, Tim joins Jimmy, quietly giving him the heads up, and they face off.

Ziva heads over to Gibbs, her usual plan, but sees that Gibbs is heading over to Ed.

"Tony taking care of you?" Gibbs asks as they get closer. Ed's working on one of the punching bags. Tony's keeping it steady for him. His form is good, speed decent. Gibbs is getting the idea that Ed probably boxed in college or high school, remembered what he learned, but hasn't used it in thirty or forty years.

"Yes."

"Great. You're up with Ziva next."

"Ziva?" Ed stops dead and just stares at her.

"Yes," Ziva says, looking pretty happy at this.

Gibbs gives Ziva a stern look. "Ziva, no eyes, no balls, no throat, no finger locks. Ed's got to be able to use his hands tomorrow."

"Yes, Gibbs." She's smiling pleasantly at Ed.

Ed's looking terrified.

"You start with Ziva because she's good enough and has enough control to not accidentally hurt you. Even if you are swinging wild and don't know what you're doing, she won't let you accidentally hurt her. You start with Ziva, and once you get good, you end with Ziva, because she's the one who knows what she's doing."

"I can't hit a girl!"

Ziva just grins at him. Gibbs claps his hand on Ed's shoulder and smiles. Tony says, "If I was you, I wouldn't worry about hitting a girl." He fishes a fifty out of his wallet. "This is yours if you can manage to lay a hand on her."

Gibbs laughs. "Come on, Ed. Time to see what Bootcamp really looks like."

Ziva puts Ed through his paces. Gibbs and Tony watch Tim and Jimmy work with each other.

"What's the plan?" Tony asks Gibbs.

"I'm up against Jimmy next."

"Really?" Tony knows where Gibbs is going to take this, and… He gets it, but that Gibbs'll do it takes his breath away.

"Yeah." Gibbs turns to Tony. "You make sure Ed gets it."

"Not a problem, been doing that all day. So, you're really gonna let him win?"

"Let? Have you been watching what he's doing?"

Tony shrugs. "Not exactly what I meant. Until I started letting you win, you made my life a living Hell. Once Ed's gone, you gonna give Jimmy any crap?"

Gibbs shakes his head. (He has a somewhat different memory of how that went down, and DiNozzo letting him win isn't part of it. Though as he thinks about it, it's probably a good idea that Tony hasn't decided he needs to go toe to toe against Draga, and just possibly Tony learned that from his own experience of being the young half of the equation when it came to working with him.)

Tony's watching him think about it and says, "You're going after him after he's been up against Ziva and McGee."

"Gotta do something to even it up. Won't look right if he drops me one minute in."

Tony shakes his head. Palmer creaming Gibbs a minute in isn't anything he's ever going to believe can happen, even if he does actually get to see it live. It's like the sun rising in the west, it's just wrong.

"When did we get old?"

Gibbs laughs at that, very amused. There's a huge difference between ten and twenty years old. But not so much between twenty, thirty, and forty. But forty and fifty, which is where Tony is, oh yeah, lots of difference. Fifty and sixty, where Gibbs is, not as much, but he can feel it. "After Jimmy and I are done, we'll see if Ed still wants to take a swing at him."

"And if he does?" Tony asks.

"I don't think he's that stupid."

That got a chuckle out of Tony.

"Okay, Jimmy, you and me."

Both Jimmy and Tim are flashing very clear are you sure about this expressions at him. Gibbs nods at both of them.

Tim stares at both of them. Be careful aimed at Gibbs. And Abby'll pout at me if you hurt him aimed at Jimmy.

Jimmy's looking back at Tim with What the hell is wrong with you? He's going to eat me alive and pick his teeth with my bones, and you think Abby's going to pout at me?

Tim smiles at that. He's a bit more immune to the aura of Gibbs than Jimmy is.

Gibbs heads in and Jimmy's looking warily at him.

"Gonna be okay, Jimmy."

He looks at Ed. He's close enough to see, but not really hear.

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

"You gonna take a dive or something."

Gibbs shakes his head. "Won't need to."

Jimmy's not looking like he believes that.

"Focus on me. Enjoy it. Then go have a chat with him."

The Marines teach you to fight and kill. All four limbs working together to drop your opponent as fast as possible. It's not fancy. Not (especially in the '70s when Gibbs was learning it) elegant. It's the martial arts equivalent of napalm. The point is overwhelming, conquering force. As long as the job is destruction, it gets the job done.

Mossad teaches you how to strike fast and precise. Maximum damage for minimum effort. How to get exactly the target you're aiming at and no one, nothing else. It's the fighting style of a small force, that must, because of its size be stronger. The fighting style of David who's facing a never-ending line of Golliaths. A group of men who have to be able to take ten, fifteen, maybe twenty men off the board for every man they can afford to lose.

If Tim has a fighting style, it's watch and wait. See the moves coming at you, look for the hole, dart into it, and knock the other guy on his ass.

And if Jimmy has a fighting style, it's a hybrid of the above three.

Gibbs is fighting fierce and fast. He's been conserving his energy for the last hour, intentionally not fighting until now. He makes sure Jimmy is on defense, the weaker of his skill set. But, Jimmy's spent most of his hours getting beaten by Tim when Tim is on defense. He knows how to play it, even if it's not his best skill.

Defense is a patience skill. At least that's how Tim plays it, how he uses it to take Jimmy down. But fighting isn't about patience, not for Jimmy. He's got yoga for that. Fighting is speed and aggression and pumping blood and fast breath and spiking adrenaline and endorphins.

He'd dodging fast, hard punches, using his legs and forearms to block kicks, his extra two inches of reach keeps Gibbs from getting too close, and while he's at it he realizes this is the shot Gibbs is giving him. Gibbs was a sniper. Gibbs kills with a knife. Gibbs is patience and defense, and attacking fast and hard isn't his best skill. He's matching his weakness to Jimmy's but he's got to be sure that Jimmy's better playing to his weak side than he is.

Because Jimmy does spend hours a week doing yoga. Because he can focus when he wants to, focus hard and tight, and slow the world down to beating heart and aware breath. It's not that he can't do it when he fights, it's that he usually doesn't want to.

But right now, more than ever, he wants to take the time to do this right. So he's focused, more focused on a fight than he ever has been, and he channeling the patience he needs to do this right, to see where to hop in, and use Ziva's precision to hit exactly what he's aiming for.

And he sees it about two minutes in. Gibb's is balanced on his left leg. He saw Ziva do a version of this, kicking at his head and taking his ankle out from under him. He doesn't have Ziva's speed, can't do it in one move. But he thinks he can pull this off in two fast moves. The punch toward Gibbs' head is a feint, pushing him a little further back, forcing more weight on that back leg, over balancing him just a bit further, and from that punch he immediate drops into the sweeping kick that takes that leg out from under Gibbs, and a second after that he's up and standing and Gibbs is on his back on the ring, looking up at him, and, there's an awfully pleased smile on his face.

Jimmy feels the smile on his face as well.

Which means it's time for part two of this, have a "chat" with Ed.

Getting into a fist fight with your father-in-law is probably a ridiculously stupid idea. On the list of top ten stupid ideas, it's probably on par with going up against a Sicilian when death is on the line.

And Jimmy isn't immune to iocane powder.

On the other hand, there's no shot Ed will respect him less for it. Unless he loses. But he just beat Gibbs. Just figured out how to own his defense. So he can't imagine Ed winning unless he was secretly a ninja back in the day. (For example, he's pretty certain he could take Ducky, but not enough to bet on it. He saw what Ducky did to those three Ninja wannabes. Ed, however, is a rather different story.)

So, as he gives Gibbs a hand up, sees the pride in his eyes, the go on, get him, in his look, he's ready for this. He faces Ed, makes sure he's looking at him. Then he checks with Gibbs. "You good?"

"Fine."

"Good." He headed to the ropes, leaning, forearms against them. He's hot, heart beating fast and hard, bright pink, dripping sweat, bit tired, and high as a kite on endorphins right now. For a few heartbeats he just stands there, staring at Ed. Then he runs his hands through his hair, mostly just moving it around a little, cooling off a bit, then wiped his face.

"Well, Ed, it's been an hour. I'm tired, so that'd even the odds some. You're all loose and warmed up." He sighed, stared down at Ed for a few more heartbeats, shook his head a little at how ridiculous this is. "You've wanted to take a shot at me since Breena brought me home the first time." He spread his arms wide, palms up, his hands are taped, so he can't exactly use his fingers to gesture, come on up, but he's getting the point across. "I'll even give you the first shot free." And then he smiled, cold, brilliant, challenging.

It's the smile of a man who just realized he can kill you with his bare hands if he feels like it. And he might decide he feels like it.

Tony said to Tim and Ziva, very quietly. "He's fucking terrifying when he wants to be."

"Indeed." Ziva said.

Tim nodded. He doesn't want to be on the other end of that smile. Ever. And if Ed's got more than three brain cells to rub together, he's about to shit his pants. (Gibbs standing behind Jimmy, arms crossed, grinning, insanely proud, is probably also not a comfort for Ed.)

The smile fell, and all they can see is cool contempt on Jimmy's face. "Well?"

Ed slowly shook his head. "Nope."

Jimmy nodded. "Good." He slipped between the ropes and headed down. Ed backed away from him, but in less than two steps found Tony and Tim immediately behind him, cutting off any chance of escape he might have. "Long time ago, I told you you didn't have to respect me, and you don't. No one gets respect by demanding it. Me telling you to do it won't make it happen." Jimmy smiled again, and hell, it's not aimed at him, but Tim's feeling a distinct desire to get the fuck away from that smile. "But you should respect me. I treat your daughter like a queen, my queen, and your grandchildren have been and will be adored every single day of their lives."

Ed nods, looking very nervous. He's got no idea what Jimmy'll do next. For that matter neither does Tony or Tim, but they're on high alert to back any play he comes up with.

"Like, I said, I can't make you respect me. But just like I fake it and am always polite to you, and you are always given a proper welcome in my home, from now on you will treat me with basic politeness. No more snide remarks. No more inviting me to a meal and then only serving food that will make me sick. We clear?"

Ed nodded again. "Yes."

Jimmy smiled one more time. "Great. Time to hit the showers."

Abby got a text about half an hour after that. It's from Tim. Everyone's fine. Jimmy stood up to Ed. Didn't have to hit him to do it. Details and celebratory dinner is at Ducky and Penny's as soon as we can get there.

She was at Jimmy and Breena's, heard the chirp of Breena's phone, probably showing a very similar message from Jimmy, and sent back a quick. Be there soon.

Two hours later, when food had been consumed, and celebratory beverages drunk, and the whole crew was in a very mellow, possibly even silly mood, when Jimmy said, "We should have a crest."

"A crest?" Tony's giving him the you are such a geek stare. But Tim's nodding, and Gibbs isn't horrified by the idea, but not sold on it either. Ducky warmed to it immediately, and ramped up into a full on history of heraldry.

Eight minutes later, after the cursory Crests For Dummies lecture by Dr. Mallard, Jimmy's sitting back, nodding along.

"A crest, or a tartan, or something. We don't have a name in common. But, something that says, Clan Gibbs would be good."

Abby's listening to this, not saying anything, but she's definitely paying attention.

Christmas is coming (well, in five months), and a symbolic gesture of family... Oh yes, she's listening, paying attention, and thinking.

They'd been home for a bit over an hour when Abby sat next to Tim, holding out a piece of paper to him.

It's a sketch, colored in with Sharpies, but he can see what she's thinking with this.

It's a shield, which makes sense, crests are done of a shield. It's broken into quarters by a solid gold line. Top right quarter is sable on argent. Top of that quarter says Palmer. In the center is the black cross of mortuary services, the black caduceus, (also of the mortuary service) outlined in white over top of the cross. Top left quarter is argent on sable. Across the top of that quarter is McGee. It's a computer sitting next to a microscope. Bottom right quarter, sable on azure, DiNozzo across the bottom of that quarter, below a knife leaning against a badge. Bottom left quarter Vert over Gules. At the bottom it read Langston-Mallard, and it's an open book, one page covered in equations the other page with a story.

And in the center, where the golden lines crossed was a partially unfurled scroll, silver over argent. At its top was Gibbs, then below that Rules, and below that 1. Never… it's small enough you can't read anything beyond the never.

Tim looked over Abby's shoulder, at her finished crest, and said, "So, I guess I know what everyone is getting for Christmas."

She smiled up at him. "You like it?"

"Oh yeah."

---

A/N: Sorry that one took a while. Next chapter's pretty long too, might take a while. (Though that one has a good breaking point, so might be two shorter ones and up faster.)

Argent=white sable=black azure=blue vert=green gules=red. And though Abby knows the names of the colors, she liked the look/modern symbology that goes with them better than the old.

Next

Shards To A Whole: Chapter 263

McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.


Chapter 263: Dinner at the DiNozzos'

Apparently there are some problems money can solve. And looking at an email with a schedule for interviewing all nineteen of the potential nannies over the next four days reminded Tim very clearly why he was happy to write a check that big to Anderson’s. (And reminded him that he needs to be spending as much non-interview time writing over the next week as he can.)

Tuesday to Friday, they’ve got interviews. A ton of interviews.

Possibly sending a note saying, ‘We’re free all week, fit as many as you can in,’ wasn’t the best idea ever. He was thinking they’d see, maybe, five.

But nope, all nineteen. In four days.

Wow!

Okay, time to write up some questions.

Sometimes people just fit.

It would have been nice to say that had been the case with any of the perspective nannies. Just like with their resumes, they’re lovely, talented, devoted people. But none of them felt like, ‘Yes, this is the exact right person I want in my home taking care of my child.’

As Tony put it when they were talking about it at Shabbos, “No Pah!”

Abby shook her head, “Not even a…” She made a soft p sound.

“There’s nothing wrong with any of them. They’re all charming, driven, focused, professionals. They’d all probably do a great job. But none of them click.”

Mmmmm...

“What happens next?” Jethro asks, holding Kelly on his lap while eating a bite of the cold cucumber-dill soup Ziva had made for supper. Shabbos supper is sushi (Which is apparently Kosher. That was a surprise to Gibbs, but fish is parve, and as long as it had fins back when it was swimming, it’s okay to eat. So sure, no octopus, squid, or clam, but tuna, sea bass, and salmon are fine.) and the soup. So, fancy enough to be a celebration dinner, but no heat needed to make any of it. He never thought he’d go for cold soup, but with as hot as it’s been lately, this is awfully nice.

“Call ten of them back, and pick them out basically by tossing darts at the board,” Tim answers.

“What do you want out of a nanny?” Jimmy asks.

“Same thing you would, Palmer, thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-six, right, McGee?” Tony says with a smirk as he’s returning to the table with more sushi. Tim whacks him in the hip, glaring.

Tony laughed.

“The problem isn’t what we want,” Abby says. “Looks like they’ll all provide excellent care. It’s some way to tell that one of them will do a better job than one of the other ones.”

“Yeah, besides having a knee-jerk aversion to tweed—“

“What, Timothy, is wrong with tweed?” Ducky says, looking amused.

“Nothing, on you or Jimmy, during winter or fall, but on a fifty-year-old woman with a proper British accent, in the middle of summer, it just makes me feel like I’m about to be taken to the Principal’s office and reprimanded.”

Abby chuckles. “Okay, yeah, that one was funny. The whole time we’re doing the interview he’s staring at her like a deer in the headlights, looking like he wants to run away. He didn’t ask a single question, and just about sprinted to go get it when she asked for a glass of water.”

Penny’s smiling at him, nodding. “Sister Mary Bernadette.”

“Yeah,” Tim says, shaking his head.

“Is there a story behind that name?” Jimmy asks.

“Oh yeah.”

“Is this your agitated nuns story?” Ziva asks.

Tim stares at her for a second, and then he remembered the Doyle case with the image of the bleeding nun statue buried in the video.

“Nope, agitated nuns were from California. This was Annapolis. Second time we lived there?”

“Third. You were born there, too.” Penny nods.

“Right, second time I remember living there. Anyway, I was eight. Public schools were okay, but the gifted program was too easy, so I’m at Saint Mary’s Elementary. She was in charge of our class, and was very, very strict, very British, and very fond of year round tweed. Huge woman, at least, it felt like she was ten-feet-tall and six hundred pounds, with a perpetual glare on her face. One of those women who had every ounce of joy surgically removed from her personality.”

“She taught third grade for thirty years. That’ll suck the joy out of most people,” Penny adds.

“Anyway, cardinal rule of the class, thou shalt make no noise, at all, ever. You didn’t want to even breathe loud in her class. And I had a friend in the desk next to mine, Michael, and he really thought it was absolutely hysterical to get me in trouble. So, she’d be writing things on the board, droning away about whatever, and he’d start flashing goofy faces at me. I’d be staring at the back of her neck, trying not to see it, but you can’t not see the guy with the two pencils up his nose sticking his tongue out at you. So, invariably, I’d look over, and start to laugh, and within a second I’d hear the crack of her pointer slamming down on my desk, she had this way of doing it so that it’d land less than a hair away from your fingers, but she never actually hit them. And then six hundred pounds of ten-foot-tall Nun was looming over me, saying,” Tim tried a British accent to go with his impression of Mary Bernadette, but killed it, and not in a good way, “’Mr. McGee, do you need to leave class?’ or ‘Mr. McGee, do I need to tell your father that you couldn’t behave?’” He shuddered for effect.

“And as a result you’re scarred for life?” Brenna asks, joking.

“As a result, I apparently find large women with British accents and head to toe tweed disconcerting. Ms… Corday? River Corday?” Abby nods. “Anyway, she looks like a great nanny. She’s practically Mary Poppins. The only thing going against her is the fact that I’ve had issues with tweed-wearing authority figures in the past. But that’s the thing, they’re all great. The best we’ve been able to do in weeding them out is one needs a live-in position, and one likes tweed.”

Jimmy stares at them for a moment. “Talk about your first world problems.”

“Oh, yes, we know. We really know,” Tim says.

“Yeah, ‘Oh no, we’ve got tons of really ultra-qualified people who want to take care of our baby. Boo hoo!’” Abby adds with a hefty dollop of sarcasm.

“But, the fact that it’s a stupid problem doesn’t make it any less real. So, next few weeks, Abby’ll see ten of them longer, see how they do with Kelly, and we’ll both hope—“

“Pray.”

“That one of them will finally click.”

A bit later, Tim asked Tony, “So, how was the first week as Team Leader?”

Gibbs grinned, Ziva rolled her eyes, and Tony groaned.

“So much paperwork!”

Gibbs smirked. “Haven’t had this much free time since ’97. Managed to get to bed before midnight every night this week. Cut two cups a coffee a day because of that.”

“Jerry,” the man who runs the coffee stand outside of the Navy Yard, “wanted to know if you were sick or something. Tells me he’s got a new Harley he’s paying off, and you’re not doing your part,” Tony says, making the other’s laugh. Then he switches topics, a bit. “You’re back on Monday, right?” Tony asks Tim.

“Yep.”

“Good.”

Tim sees the gleam in Tony’s eyes and says, “Oh no. No. No. I am not your paperwork boy anymore. No. I’ve got more than enough on my own plate right now. SecNav wants my next report. He outranks you by a mile. I’ve got tests to write. Just finished the latest Deep Six rough draft, so now I’ve got to go back and beat it into shape for my editor. I’m not doing your crap, too. You wanted Team Leader, enjoy it.”

“Come on…”

“No.”

Tony’s aiming puppy eyes at Ziva. She shakes her head. “McGee’s better at your signature.”

“McGee’s better at my signature than I am.”

“Probably because a good two-thirds of them come from me. It’s not hard. There were only two things I knew cold by the end of my first week on Gibbs’ team, Tony’s signature and don’t mess with Jethro’s coffee.”

That got a laugh.

“You want me to train Draga on it?” Tim asks. Just because he doesn’t want to do the paperwork doesn’t mean he wants the team’s ability to do the work bogging down in unfiled reports.

“Already tried. I dropped a pile of paper on Flyboy’s desk, he looked at it for a second, flipped through the pages, and then said, “I’m really pleased with your confidence in me, but until I’ve got the title of Team Leader, I’m not doing the Team Leader paperwork.”

“Give it to me on Monday. I’m not filling it out, but I’ll explain to Draga some of the glorious joys of being the tech guy, let alone the probie tech guy.” And, it’s possible the smile of Tim’s face may have indicated a certain level of mean pleasure at the idea of foisting that job off to someone new.

“Aren’t you the senior agent, now?” Abby asks Gibbs.

Gibbs shrugs. None of them are claiming the spot right now. He’s got the years, but is leaving in January. Tim’s senior to Ziva, but also leaving at some time in the not wildly distant future. Ziva’s the one who’s really going to get the job, but she doesn’t seem to mind being in limbo until the three of them get fully settled.

“Isn’t the paperwork your job?”

Gibbs just shook his head. “Tony only thought I was tossing it all on him.”

“You mean me. You don’t think he did your paperwork, did you?” Tim added. “Took an extra three weeks, but I can do your signature, too. Ziva’s the only one who does all her own paperwork.”

“If I knew you would fill out any page that hit your desk…” Ziva says with a smile.

“Don’t even think about it. I don’t have your signature down, and I’m not feeling any compelling reason to learn it.”

“So, besides a massive paperwork backlog, how’s it going?” Penny asks.

Tony smiles a little. “Better. Draga still doesn’t love me, but he’s a lot clearer about where the lines are now. That Jethro will take orders from me makes a lot of difference. Basically, since he’s not second guessing me, and he’s been around longer than dirt. No offense.” Gibbs shoots him the you’re being a smartass look, but doesn’t whack him upside the head. “Anyway, if Gibbs, with his vast experience, thinks I know what I’m doing, that’s good enough for Draga.”

“He is asking more, why do we do it like this questions and fewer do you know what you’re doing questions,” Ziva says.

“How’s he doing on tech?” Tim asks.

“Fine.” Tony answers. “Not as fast as you are, but he’s doing the job. He’s better in the field, but he’s handling tech.”

“That mean I’m riding the desk tomorrow?”

“Maybe. Let’s see what comes up. I want him handling all the basic tech and working with you for the advanced stuff until you leave. Field time isn’t going to vanish anytime soon. You are. So we’re going to make the most of it.”

Dinner was breaking up when Gibbs asked Breena, “What time is church tomorrow?”

“You’re really going to come?” She also looks amazed by this.

“Sure.” They’re in Tony and Ziva’s bedroom, she’s getting Molly, and he just wanted a shot to talk to her alone.

“It’s at eleven.”

“I offered to invite Ed to Bootcamp. Jimmy said he didn’t want that.”

Her eyebrows shot up.

“He ever changes his mind about that, are you okay with it?”

“Uh… Inviting him to Bootcamp to do what?” Breena looks very concerned by this development, because she’s awfully sure this isn’t a friendly offer to workout.

“Learn firsthand that Jimmy deserves his respect.”

“Jethro?”

“Beat that fact into him if need be.”

She looks disturbed by that, but doesn’t immediately say no. “Tell me how you think this’ll work.”

“Your father and your husband are the two most important men in your life. In your kids’ lives while they’re little, too. It’s not good for you to be caught in the middle. And it’s not good for them to see him disrespect their father. I was sure, after Jon died, that he’d ease up on Jimmy, see that he was a good man, a good husband, and a good father. But it sounds like he still doesn’t get it. If he doesn’t respect that, maybe he’ll respect force.”

“He respects money, Jethro. He’s worried that Jimmy doesn’t make enough to support our family.”

Gibbs thinks about that for a moment. He’s never asked and doesn’t actually want to know, but… Okay, you don’t get fabulously rich on a government salary, but you also pretty much can’t be fired, the benefits are gold plated, and your family gets taken care of after you die. Whenever Ducky retires, Jimmy’ll be going up about five pay grades. (The jump between Assistant ME and ME is huge at the Navy Yard branch because ME also comes with Director of Autopsy.) He knows Breena is making money, too, so…

“Won’t be able to support you, or won’t be able to buy you diamonds and vacations in Switzerland?”

She smiles wryly. “Is there a difference?”

Gibbs gets it, and it shows on his face.

She nods. “Yeah. Add in Jimmy not wanting to work for Slater’s, which I completely support, and approve of… but… In my family that’s almost divorce insurance. Guys don’t leave when their whole life is wrapped up in the family. We’re like the funeral home mafia, once you’re in, you’re in, and there’s no getting out. But Jimmy’s not in, not the way my uncles are, not the way my cousins’ husbands are, and that worries my dad. But, mostly, I think it’s money. And I don’t know if you and Jimmy punching him into a pulp will help with that.”

Gibbs smiled a little and inclined his head, indicating that he understood what she was saying. “Might make Jimmy feel better.”

That got a smile out of Breena, too. Then a sigh. “They’re both adults. If they need to fight it out, fine. I think it’s stupid, but if it happens, yeah, I’ll be okay with it. I’m not going to cry on Jimmy if he coldcocks my dad. There have certainly been times I’ve wanted to do it for things he’s said to Jimmy, too. And if my dad cries on me, I’ll remind him that getting into fights with guys who are thirty years younger and use fighting as a way to work out is a really bad idea. And I might then suggest to him that a certain level of politeness is due to the guy who knocked him flat.”

“Okay. Just wanted to make sure it wouldn’t cause trouble with you and Jimmy.”

“No. He’s my dad, and I love him, and I know he wants the best for me, but his idea of the best and mine didn’t exactly match. I want kindness, love, and joy. He wants wealth and security.”

Gibbs nods. Then he kissed Breena and Molly’s foreheads. “Thanks. Won’t let anyone get really hurt if it comes down to it.”

“Good.”

Next

Shards To A Whole: Chapter 262: The Slaters

McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.


Chapter 262: The Slaters

On Saturday night, as they were getting ready for bed, Abby asked Tim, “How serious are you about Jimmy and Breena’s church?”

It’d been almost a week since they saw Father John last, and Tim had informed Abby of Ducky’s idea of what was going on, so they’d settled on skipping church for the next few weeks, see if that’d up the pressure and make John fold on the Godparents issue.

“Making sure that wasn’t just ‘I don’t want to fold’ talking?” he asks, putting toothpaste on his brush.

“Yeah.” She reaches for her toothbrush.

“I’m serious.” He hands her her toothpaste.

“I talked to Breena today. Service is at eleven tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Sunday dinner is at Ed and Jeannie’s after.”

That got a startled look out of Tim, he put his own toothbrush down. They’ve had hundreds of half-garbled conversations that come from talking while brushing their teeth, but he wants this to be clear. “So… we go to church and we’re… joining the extended family?”

She smiles at him. “That’s what you said, right? A place where our family gathers? We’re already part of the extended Slater family. But yeah, that’s the tradition. Church, then supper at the Slaters’, according to Breena there’s football or baseball on the television after, they’re Redskins and Nationals fans, but Jimmy usually runs to Bootcamp before that. Breena and both of her sisters, and their guys, and Ed’s brother Tom, and his family, and Jeannie’s brother and sister, and, yeah, the whole clan’ll be there.”

“How many Slaters attend that church?” Tim asked after picking his toothbrush back up.

“I don’t know. A whole lot of them.” Spit, rinse, brush some more. “Breena says they’ve been part of that congregation for a very long time, like since her great-grandparents got married, and it’s also part of their business model.”

“Guess that makes sense,” he says, and grabs the mouthwash. After all, if you run a funeral home, it’s probably a good idea to have deep ties to the local community. And it probably doesn’t hurt if you’re close to a Pastor or two, who may, should the need arise, suggest someone to take care of the dearly departed to the grieving family.

It occurs to Tim as he heads in, that with the exception of a few weddings, funerals, and Molly’s christening, he’s never actually been to a Protestant church service.

Sure, he’s heard people call Episcopalians Catholic-lites but, at least at this church, it looks a lot different.

First and foremost, the Pastor is a woman. That’s an awfully unsubtle hint that he’s not in a Catholic church. The décor is quite a bit more restrained than St. Sebastians, but St. Sebastian’s was old and in a well-off parish. They’d been around long enough to have the Stations of the Cross carved in ivory on the walls. There’s nothing even remotely like that here. (Of course, from the ten minutes of googling he did this morning, Tim got the sense this was the sort of place that would find having ivory anything, even if they were antique objects of art specially made by one of the parishioners back in the 1850s, horrendously embarrassing.) No Confessionals that he can see, and he makes a mental note to ask Jimmy about that.

They’re waiting in the entry of St. Mary’s when the Pastor heads over to welcome them. And just like at St. Sebastian’s she’s warm, pleasant, (spends a minute cooing over Kelly) lets them know all are welcome. She asks about their religious background, and Abby says they’re Catholic. The Pastor, Emma Brons, (Mother Emma? Obviously Father Emma isn’t going to work.) smiles, lets them know that a lot of the service will look familiar, and the biggest practical difference is that everyone is welcome and encouraged to take Communion.

Abby’s smiling and nodding, making polite conversation, asking questions. Tim’s mostly standing there and holding Kelly.

Finally Jimmy and Breena find them, but Molly’s not with them.

“Oh, good, you’ve found everything,” Jimmy says to him while Breena joins the ladies’ conversation. “Do you want to take Kelly to the nursery?”

“Nursery?” Tim asks. There was an idea that hadn’t occurred to him.

“They’ve got a nursery for babies under three. It runs the whole length of the service,” Jimmy answers, gesturing behind him.

“Oh.” Tim looks a little doubtful about that, but if Jimmy and Breena are comfortable with Molly being there… “Lead the way.”

They’re halfway down a long hall off to the side of the entry, one filled with what looks like brightly decorated classrooms.

“So, you guys don’t do the nursery at St. Sebastians?” Jimmy asks.

“Don’t have one. Kids come for the full Mass.”

“Oh.” Jimmy winces at that. The idea of a church service filled with small, loud, squirmy people, let alone having to be the guy making the small, loud, squirmy person behave isn’t anything he’d relish. “Not here. Little guys stay in the nursery. Older kids attend the service for the first ten minutes, then they have the children’s sermon, and then they go off to nursery school.”

“Hmmm… That’s different.”

“Keeps them from going bonkers.”

“I can imagine.” Tim had personally spent what felt like ninety million hours of being a very small, very young, very squirmy person trying to listen to some old fart drone on and on and on while his Dad glared daggers at him for not ‘behaving.’

“Okay, here we are.” Jimmy opened the door to a brightly lit room and the sound of twenty babies and toddlers rolled over Tim. There were six women in there, taking care of the kids, and right that second he was immensely glad to not have their job.

Molly, who was playing with some blocks, saw them, and ran over. “Uncle Tim!”

He knelt down and kissed her forehead. “Hey, Molly.”

“Kelly?” She’s not really talking in sentences, yet. She’s got most of her sounds, (Though th is a problem. Gibbs is Uncle Jetro.) and tends to talk in one or two word questions/statements.

“Yes. Kelly’s going to stay with you today. You going to show her the ropes?”

Molly didn’t appear to know what that meant, because she was looking around for ropes. (She understands, at least on a literal level, way more than she can express.) He kissed her head again. “Not real ropes. We’re going to go to church with your parents, and then come to dinner at…” He looks to Jimmy, “What are Ed and Jeannie?”

“Poppie and Gramma.”

“And then we’re going to dinner at Gramma and Poppie’s house.”

Molly nodded, looking very pleased by this development. Then she scuttled off, found who Tim is assuming is her favorite of the nursery ladies, dragged her to them, and said to her, very seriously, “Uncle Tim, Kelly.”   

“Hi, I’m Melissa James. First time at St. Mary’s?”

“Yes.”

“Well, your little girl is going to be just fine with us. All of our caregivers are certified in CPR, and if you want to take a moment and fill out this form...” She led him over to one of the tiny tables and grabbed some paperwork en route. “We can get your Kelly settled in.”

“Okay, thanks.” He handed Kelly over, little nervous, but if Jimmy and Breena trust these people with Molly, they know what they’re doing, and got down to filling out the paperwork.

A minute later, Melissa was handing him small sticker with a number on it. “Kelly has the matching number. Don’t lose it, because that’s how we know which parents go with which babies.”

“How do you make sure it stays on the baby?”

“Put it on the diaper. That way, even if it falls off, it stays in her clothing.”

“Makes sense.”

“Did you come with your wife?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll get you another number.”

“Thanks.”

The service was… a service. More than familiar enough. Bits and pieces (like the kids all leaving after the children’s service) were different, but not so much he couldn’t zone out.

Being stuck in what was one of four pews filled with Slaters was different.

Church attendance was a sticking point with his dad, so every single week until he got out of his house, Tim went to Mass. But, at no point in time was there ever any sort of gathering of the McGees. He’s sure there are vast hordes of McGees somewhere. His dad was one of four. His grandparents and great grandparents came from even bigger families. Probably, back in Boston, where they came from before his branch headed off to Annapolis and made a life for themselves centered on the Navy, there are whole Catholic Churches filled with McGees.

But he’s never been part of one of them.  

Meanwhile, being stuck in a sea of Slaters, being introduced to all of them (For the second or third time. He met, at least for a second, most of them at Jimmy and Breena’s wedding and Molly’s christening, and probably most of them at Jon’s funeral, but he wasn’t paying enough attention to notice anyone he didn’t already know, then.) and watching them spend half an hour after the service catching up, because, apparently not all of them were going to dinner after, felt really strange.

There are more people here in these four pews than were at his entire wedding.

They joke about the Gibbs clan. But this mass of Slaters really is a clan. And to some degree it is a bit intimidating. This if family in that massive sticky wodge of intertwined relationships and history that goes back before everyone standing in this church was born.

Tim suddenly gets exactly how much tradition Jimmy and Breena bucked by having them as Molly’s godparents. And knowing that, he’s feeling very, very sure that returning the favor matters, a lot.

Jeannie Slater's handmade cannoli

Jeannie and Ed’s place was the land of carbs. The whole house is filled with beautiful food, and none of it looks edible for Jimmy. Tim chooses to usually avoid carbs, he feels a bit better and has an easier time managing his weight when he avoids them. But, it’s a choice. And surrounded by piles of luscious food, he may decide to reverse that choice for an afternoon, and work extra hard at Bootcamp.

But it’s not a choice for Jimmy, not really. He can but shouldn’t eat them. Especially not in the heaping piles that are covering every horizontal surface in the Slaters’ dining room.

Tim actually pulled Jimmy aside and said, very quietly, “Are they trying to poison you?”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “They think diabetes is some form of bizarre idiosyncrasy.”

Tim stares at a table laden with lasagnas, beautiful golden brown garlic bread loaves, something that might have been baked manicotti, the green beans were in some sort of casserole with crunchy bits on top, and the salad was generously studded with croutons. On a sidebar there’s a collection of fancy cookies, two different cakes, and cannoli. He can feel his mouth water and stomach rumble at all of that lovely food, but he’s feeling really bad for Jimmy.

“Thank God, you don’t have Celiac.”

Jimmy sighed at that. “They think I should just up my insulin and deal, and Ed’ll make a few cracks about me not eating enough to keep a bird alive.”

“What do you do?”

“Salad, veg, some weeks they’ll have a turkey or roast beef, too, and I’ll eat that.”

“Too?”

“Yeah, this is the smaller version of the spread. At least once a month, Ed’s other brother and the rest of Jeannie’s family shows up. There’s at least seventy people here that week.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

By the end of the meal, Tim knew a whole lot more about the funeral industry than he ever expected to. Apparently, most of the “family owned” funeral homes were, once upon a time, family run businesses that had been bought out by large chains that kept the local names. Competition was, to put it mildly, deadly fierce. And the Slaters were one of only two multi-location family businesses still standing in the greater DC area.  

From what he could gather, the reason they were still around was that they basically ran their own chain. Ed and his brothers each had at least one location under their control. They expanded with their children, waiting until one was old enough, focused enough, to run their own branch, and then bought/built a new location.  

Breena, as the oldest of Ed’s kids, was expected to take over her father’s primary shop. He also ran one smaller funeral home (one of his Uncle’s original shops) that would go to Amy or Mindy, depending on which one looked up for it soonest. The other would have a shop built for her when she was ready for it.

So, basically, Ed’s shop was the training ground for his kids. Add in experienced hands to make sure they learned the trade properly, recognition value from the name, and a huge pool of collected capital for expansion when the next generation was ready, and they were a very stable business.

And, as much as he thinks Ed is a massive jerk, Tim is pretty impressed with the level of organized providing-for he’s done for his girls. (Though he’s curious as to what would happen if one of them didn’t want to be a funeral director. After all, his dad had that level of planning done for his career, too. He filed that away for something to talk to Breena about when they aren’t at her parents’ home.)

The crew (including Abby and Breena) was settling down for baseball when Jimmy said, “Time for us to be heading off.”

Tim checked the clock. It’s an hour earlier than he’d have left for Bootcamp, but he also wouldn’t have needed to grab lunch before getting there.

“Oh, yeah, that thing where his boss tries to beat some spine into you, right?” Ed says.

Jimmy grits his teeth and pretends Ed didn’t actually say that. “Yeah, Ed.”

“I like Gibbs. Man’s got character, grit. You guys should invite him for next Sunday.”

Tim tries to imagine Gibbs in this crowd. He figures Gibbs would be out of here in less than ten minutes. “He’s usually busy early Sunday, but we’ll pass it along.”

“Busy?” One of the assorted Uncles, (Will? Wes? Tim has no idea what his name is.) asked.

“We’re on call one weekend a month, and the other three he spends working on his boat,” Tim replies.

“I told you about that, Dad,” Breena adds.

“Right, he’s the guy who uses his own house as the bottle he builds boats in.”  That got the rest of the crew interested in the Amazing Gibbs who says nothing, builds boats in his basement, and beats Jimmy to a pulp (to hear Ed tell it) on a weekly basis. Jimmy and Tim use that as an excuse to slip away.

“And now I understand why you’re always so happy to pound the crud out of me on Sundays.”

Jimmy flashed him a quick, and not particularly happy, smile, as he puts his key in the ignition. They’re taking Jimmy’s car to Bootcamp. Abby and Breena are going to carpool home in Abby’s car.

“How do you do that every week?”

“Valium.” He says it deadpan enough that Tim’s honestly not sure if he’s kidding. Jimmy sees the confusion and shakes his head. “No, not really. I love Breena. She loves them. So, I’ve at least got to tolerate them. I mean, I knew I was getting into this when I married her. Honestly, I spent a good six months really thinking about it before I proposed, because she made it clear she was a package deal. If I wanted her, I was getting all of them, too. And, it’s worth it… but…” Jimmy lets out a long sigh. “Yeah, Bootcamp. I love Bootcamp. Before Bootcamp, I’d get home and run for at least two hours.”

“And I can see why.”

“Believe it or not, they’re actually being nice to me. Rod, Mindy’s last boyfriend, didn’t pass muster, and, God, that was horrendously uncomfortable.”

“What’s horrendously uncomfortable?” Tim’s curious about that, because if Jimmy’s the pet son-in-law, the idea of what must happen to guys they don’t like is terrifying.

“Okay, Ed doesn’t love me, but the rest of them treat me okay. I think they’re under the impression that a properly functioning father-in-law is supposed to be constantly putting the Fear of Dad into you, making sure that you know, every single second of every day that you are not worthy of his daughter and the entire reason for your existence is to continually strive to be worthy of her. This happens until some sort of magic switch flips and suddenly you’re deemed worthy of helping his daughter take over the family business. And since I turned that down, my guess is I never get to be treated like a real human by him. But all the rest of the guys can treat you like a human.”

“All right.” Tim silently thanks Gibbs for not being that flavor of bastard.

“So, Rod shows up for church, and first of all he’s in shorts and a t-shirt.” And yes, Breena had indicated that dressy casual was the way to go here, and a suit wouldn’t be considered out of line. So, Tim donned his usual church suit. “And all of them ganged up on him. And, look, Rod wasn’t my idea of a good boyfriend, either. He didn’t show Mindy enough respect. And I’ve got no problem smacking a guy who calls out to my wife, ‘Hun, grab me a beer,’ when he’s standing ten feet from the refrigerator, and she’s on the other side of the room and has to walk past him to get it. So, I’ll admit, I joined in on it. But that poor guy was like a side of beef in a tank of irritable, hungry, snarky piranhas, who earned points with each other by who could take the biggest bite out of him.”

“I’m deeply glad not to be a perspective in-law.”

“Yeah. So far we’re the first ones to bring friends to this, but they seem to be treating you pretty well.”

“Compared to my dad, Ed’s a piker—“

“So’s Charles Manson.”

Tim smiles, appreciating that. “Not saying you’re wrong, but I had a point there.”

“Okay.”

“Just saying, between my Dad and Tony, and hell Kate, or Ziva… Well, no one at Ed’s is going to superglue me to a large, stationary object. Two snide comments about my wrist cuff and goatee… Tony used to give me more crap than that in the chunk of time between fetching the first of the morning coffee and finishing it. Everyone treated Abby well, and behaved like Kelly was the second-most darling baby girl on earth.” Molly and Kelly are the only babies in the Slater clan right now. Though Molly does have several older cousins who start at age five and range up to fifteen. “So, yeah, that was more than I ever needed to know about funeral homes, but not really a problem.”

“Okay, I guess it did go well.”

Tim chuckled sarcastically. “Easy to have a nice family gathering when your standards are as low as mine… So, since they sort of approve of you, you only have to deal with Ed being a jerk and Jeannie trying to kill you?”

“Yeah. Though in her defense, I honestly think she doesn’t get it. ‘Cause, sure I can have an extra dose of carbs or sugar from time to time, but I feel pretty nasty after, so it’s got to be amazingly good food to make it worth it.”

“Like those ribs at Tony’s bachelor party.”

“Oh my God, yes, like those ribs! That was worth it. Hell, driving to North Carolina, shooting up insulin, night without Breena, and the sugar crash after was worth it. And one of these days, when we actually manage to have no pregnant wives between us, we’re taking the girls and introducing them to those ribs.”

Tim’s nodding. He’s on board with that idea. “Good plan.”

“Oh yeah. Anyway, Jeannie’s a great cook, and I actually do love Italian food, which I basically can’t eat anymore, but I will, on a rare occasion, when we don’t have Bootcamp after, snag a cannoli, because those are just amazing. She makes the whole thing, including the shells, from scratch.”

Tim made a quiet mmmm sound. He’d had two (promising himself to work extra hard at Bootcamp), and they were little wads of creamy, chocolate-y, crispy heaven.

“So, she’s more under the impression that I’m being an ultra-sensitive pain in the ass by not eating her food. And Ed, who will go to the wall to defend his girls, which includes Jeannie, will pick on me for it, because he considers it an insult to her.”

“Great.”

“Yeah.”

“So, what are we getting you for lunch?”

“You’re back!” Ziva said, pleased smile on her face when she saw Tim walk in with Jimmy.

“And looking awfully fancy,” Gibbs added. “You just visiting?”

Usual workout outfit.

Tim usually shows up dressed to work out: t-shirt, sweats, and sneakers. (Jimmy usually shows up dressed for church.) He’d worn a suit to church, and sure, the tie and jacket are back in Abby’s car (It’s July, and hot, so all the guys got rid of the jackets and ties about two minutes after getting out of the St. Mary’s), but that means, like Jimmy, he’s in a button down, dress slacks, and dress shoes.

“Went to church with Jimmy and Breena. They don’t take kindly to showing up in your workout clothing.” Jimmy just nods at them. Showing up and taking a few minutes to change is his usual routine, and Tim follows. 

Five minutes later, he’s warming up with Gibbs, while Ziva puts Jimmy through his paces, and mentions, “Jimmy and I are supposed to pass along the invite to church and Sunday dinner with the Slaters to you. Apparently, you have ‘grit,’ and Ed likes you.”

Gibbs lets go of the punching bag. (He’d been holding it steady while Tim worked it over.) He’s just watching Tim.

So Tim continues, “And neither of us will be in the least insulted if you develop some sort of massively time intensive hobby that eats up every Sunday for the rest of your life. In fact, Jimmy might encourage you to develop one.”

“Run away, Gibbs, run!” Jimmy says, smiling, ducking under Ziva’s arm, catching her hand in his and nicely spinning her around.

“He’s getting a lot better at that,” Tim says to Gibbs.

“Yes, he is.” Gibbs is smiling. Actually, Tim’s finding that smile a bit unnerving, because he doesn’t know what it means. Gibbs gestures to the punching bags. “Elbow and knee strikes, right side.”

Tim gets to it, mostly paying attention to Gibbs heading over to the boxing ring where Jimmy and Ziva are sparring.

Gibbs leans against the ropes, letting them wind down. Sure, Ziva won, but Jimmy can go a good six minutes with her now, and hold his own. (Well, not get too badly killed.)

“That a serious invite? Or was Ed just blowing smoke?”

Jimmy leans against the ropes, panting. Ziva's watching them gulping down water.

“I think it was serious.”

“You want me there?”

“You’d come?” Jimmy looks stunned by that idea. “It’s church and a gathering of up to seventy people just standing around, talking funerals, and eating. And, Ed’s not exactly your favorite person.”

“Nope. But he’s your kids’ grandfather, your wife’s dad. Like it or not, he’s family. Not like I’ve never been to church before. Used to do it regular when Shannon and Kelly were alive. Used to do Sunday dinner, long time back, with my grandparents.”

“Huh. Sure. Come. Just, might not be fun.”

Gibbs shrugs at that. “You want me to invite him to Bootcamp? Let him see what you can do?”

“God. No! You do that, and I’ll have a day where I trip over my own feet just getting into the ring. This is fun. This is how I blow off the stress of Sunday Dinner. I’d like it to stay that way.”

Gibbs nod, and then a slow smile spread across his face. “You ever want to put him in his place, and if he comes, you will put him in his place, he’s more than invited to join us.” 

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Shards To A Whole: Chapter 261

McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.

Chapter 261: Nannies

Back in grad school, Tim’s girlfriend was a sociology major, specializing in feminine gender roles among pre-industrial societies.

Between Helen (said girlfriend) and growing up with a hard core, sex positive, second-wave-feminist, pacifist grandmother, he’s still got something of a specialized vocabulary bouncing around his head that he very rarely uses.

One word that springs to mind is ‘liminal.’ The spaces on the edge or inbetween.

Politically he inhabits a liminal space of being simultaneously vastly more conservative than his grandmother/sister (and a few degrees to the right of Abby and Breena) and being wildly more liberal than Gibbs, Tony, or Ducky (and a few degrees to the left of Jimmy).

Mostly it’s not the sort of thing that he really thinks much about. It’s just something he’s aware of, and occasionally takes some gentle ribbing about when election time rolls around. (From both sides, on one day in November of ’12 he managed to get called a McBleeding-Heart by Tony and The Tin Man (no heart) by Sarah. They didn’t much mean anything by it, beyond the fact that he wasn’t voting for the same guy they were, but still…)

But right now he can feel years of liberal race/class/gender consciousness training creeping up and demanding he pay attention to it. 

And the reason he can feel it, sitting there in the back of his mind, is that he and Abby are looking at the list of resumes that Anderson’s Child Care Services sent over. It’s the same agency that Vance used to find his nanny, and all of the women… people… one of them is a guy… appear to be highly trained, very competent, well-educated professionals determined to provide exceptionally good child care.

Great.

But he can’t shake the idea of wealthy, career-oriented, white family hires brown woman from a less well-educated, less-affluent background to take care of the babies.

And it feels weird to even mention the fact that he’s aware of it. That as he’s looking through the resumes he can feel himself checking names, wondering about racial background and thinking about how the woman on the resume in front of him has a Latina name, but a master’s degree in early child development so hiring her isn’t really a paradigm of privilege, right?

And it’s not like they’re planning on paying a sub-minimum wage to a woman who’s here illegally and barely speaks English. These are hard-core professional women… people who have devoted their lives to providing top flight child care.

If this was a stack of resumes for the next member of his team, it wouldn’t be an issue. If these were new hires for Cybercrime, he’d barely be aware of anything about them beyond the facts of the CV.

But it’s not.

They’re nannies. The pinkest of the pink collar jobs, and he and Abby are so damn white they’re practically translucent, and…

“Who do you like?” he asks Abby, figuring the easiest way to deal with this is to just let her pick.

She looks up from her computer. “So many good choices. But, it’d take forever to interview them all.”

“We’ve got nine weeks. That’s time to see twenty applicants. Compared to Vance, as long as we don’t interview the entire agency, we’re doing well.”

Abby smiles at that. “There is that.” He sees her flipping through the documents. “Marissa Allen, she stood out.”

Tim flips through his own to find her, and scans her CV. “What…” Then he sees it. “Drummer for Twisted Puppies from ‘08-‘11.”

“Saw them live a few times.” She grinned at him. “Besides, we want Kelly to have a sense of rhythm.”

He chuckles at that, and adds her name to the call back list. “Okay, that’s one.”

“You know, this might be easier to just weed out the ones we don’t want to see.”

He nods. That’s sensible. But… “None of the resumes we got said, ‘Nope, Not Me!’ to me.”

“Me, either.” Abby starts to type rapidly.

“Abby?”

“Sending Lara a note.”

“Makes sense.” Lara came from the same agency. And while it’s true that she’s been with Vance’s family for more than three years now, she might have more of a sense of who the people they’re looking at are than they can get from just looking at resumes.

Tim kept reading through his stack, while Abby scanned hers. After a few minutes he said, “Okay, found one we can discard.”

“What?”

“Looking for a live in position.”

“Hold up on tossing that one.” He’s giving her the tell me what you’re thinking look. “We both work insane hours. You aren’t settled in Cybercrime, yet. We don’t actually know how much having the other techs in the lab will change my schedule. We’ve got two bedrooms we aren’t using, and a bathroom we almost never use. So, someone here all the time might be a good thing.”

And, sure, that’s logical but… It’s a stranger, in his home, all the time.

His discomfort with that must show on his face because she nods and says, “Okay, no live in help.”

“Thanks.”

Kelly started to cry, letting them know she was awake and would appreciate some tending, so he went up to grab her.

“Good nap?”

She stopped crying when he came in, but didn’t look pleased.

“Yeah, I’m usually not in a great mood right after I wake up, too.” He picks her up, snuggling  her close as he takes her over to the changing table, and gets started on changing her diaper. “Well, at least that was true until I started sleeping next to your mama all time. Tend to be in a pretty good mood when I wake up next to her.”

The look Kelly’s giving him is best described as, Dad, I’m sure you find this amusing, but I’m hungry, so speed up on the diaper change and get me to Mom.

He kissed her tummy and said, “Yes, love.”

A minute later, he’s downstairs, handing Kelly to Abby. “I think we’ve really got to see them. See who jells best with us, and with her. It’s not about who’s got the masters from the spiffiest university; it’s who gets Kelly, and to a lesser degree, us, best.”

“Yeah,” she says as she gets Kelly settled on her breast. “So, I guess I know what we’re doing from now until you go back to work?”

“Guess so. I’m back on the twentieth, so that’s ten days of interview time.”

Abby thinks about that. “Five really. Doubt they want to do weekends, and I doubt we’ll be able to get anyone in tomorrow.”

"Good points. I'll go give them a call. See what we can do."

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