"Hey, Ducky? Does Gibbs have any kids?"
"Not that I'm aware of. Why do you ask, Caitlin?"
"No reason," Kate replied. That wasn't entirely true. While it was hard to picture Gibbs with a kid, or kids, she had heard of his interactions with children and she had to wonder. First, the son of the Marine who fell through the roof of the car. His mother had told Kate how Gibbs had first told the boy to salute his father at his funeral and then finished his tree house. Then there was Petty Officer Curtain's son. While Kate had not seen what happened in his room, Gibbs had been the only person to get the boy to talk about his father. Kate assumed that, if he did not already have a child, he would be a great father.

******

The stone was cool from the shade of the tree it lay under. An angel knelt next to it, hands folded, frozen in a prayerful attitude. The grass was freshly cut, though it grew long around the bases of the angel and the stone. A slender but strong hand brushed leaves and pollen off the gray marble. The normally piercing blue eyes were softer, darker. The hand ran through the silvering short hair as he drew a ragged breath. Moisture pooled in his eyes and he blinked rapidly, determined not to cry. He never cried. He squatted down, tracing the letters on the stone lightly with the fingers of one hand. "Beloved son", it said below the dates, six years apart. The name was slightly worn, but still clear enough to read. A lone tear escaped his eye as he read the name, his name. "Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Jr."