A.N.: So, this idea came to my head after reading the fanfic "Brothers in DC", written by Jemlela and unfortunately unfinished. A thousand thoughts later and here I am! BTW, don't use the two series timeline, mainly because it's a crossover.
DISCLAIMER: NCIS, NCIS LA and their characters belong to CBS. Only my imagination belongs to me.
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Leroy Jethro Gibbs is a proud member of US Navy. He's also married to the love of his life and father of a beautiful little girl, who has just completed her six months of life.
Nothing in Jethro's life is wrong. Everything follows the best course he could wish for.
Still, Leroy Jethro Gibbs can't be totally happy. Because he knows something. Some houses ahead, at the end of his street, lives a family that can't have the wonderful life he enjoys. In that house there's a lot of pain, a lot of crying, a lot of anguish.
There's an ex-Marine in that house. By disability retirement. He lost one of his legs on a mission. What that man loves the most - more than the wife, much more than the only son - was taken from him because of a landmine.
And now everything is upside down. The woman, once beautiful and friendly became recluse, living in dark glasses and long-sleeved clothing. Twice she had to use a cast to put her arm place and once an ambulance left with the boy lying on the stretcher.
Everyone knows what happens in that house. But the man is respected for all the heroic actions done and feared by all the madness he is capable of.
Sometimes Leroy Jethro Gibbs, member of the Navy, a husband and father, only feels a huge anger at not being able to help everyone.
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- Jethro!
- I heard, Shannon. Call 911 and don't leave the house. Stay with Kelly.
The couple woke up with the not-so-distant echoes of screams and shots fired. The woman picks up the phone and makes the call. The man leaves the house, holding his gun and running down the street. One or two more men leave their homes and follow the Marine. Most of the other military men who live there are on duty.
They enter the house after Leroy kicks the door. They call for the dwellers of the house, but silence dominates. It doesn't take long to get into the kitchen and see a horror movie scene.
The woman is lying on the floor. A pool of blood around and two bullet holes - one on the head and one on the left leg - give all the assurance they can do nothing else. She is dead.
The husband is also lying on the floor, but with his belly up. He holds a still smoking gun in his right hand, while the shots he received on the thigh and shoulder bleed. Because of the size of the bullet holes, he was obviously not injured by his own gun. In the distance the sounds of police sirens and ambulances echoes.
The two men who followed to help Gibbs soon tidy up a rope and arrest the wounded, very drunk man. He's so out of his mind that he doesn't seem to feel pain and all he does is shout...
- That bitch, she cheated on me! I killed the slut! And that bastard, he shot his own father! I HOPE HE DIES TOO!
Leroy feels the blood freeze. He looks again at each corner of the kitchen and finally notices a trail of blood that follows the floor and into the food cabinet. He opens the door slowly and turns on the light in the small room. His heart almost stop with the scene.
The little boy probably fell there. His body must have down hard because some of the food and suplies ended up falling. On one hand, loose, a .38. The other seems to hide - unsuccessfully - the red and growing stain on his white shirt, right in his abdomen. Although wounded and pale, the boy has an almost angelic expression in his unconsciousness.
- Oh, shit...!
He takes the gun out of the boy's hand with the utmost care, tucking into the waistband of the pants. Then he finds a dishcloth on one of the shelves of the place, removing the boy's other hand from the top of the wound and using the cloth to press and stop the flowing blood.
At the same time the boy wakes up, eyes wide with pain, the cry choked by clenched teeth and tears falling, furious. He closes his hands in an obvious gesture of trying to hold the revolver he used to stop his father, but finds only one of the man's hands in front of him, squeezing it.
-Mr...Mr. Gibbs! What are you doing here?!
- Shhh. I came to help, son. Hold still, try take a deep breath. The doctors will be here in a minute.
- No! I don't want a doctor, I don't want hospitals! They always send us back...
He narrows his eyes, and the memories of the events of minutes ago come back with full force. The crying arrives quickly, in fast and suffering sobs.
- My mom...she's dead, isn't she?
Gibbs can't deny. Before even speaking anything, his eyes tell the truth to the boy. He realizes that the boy's body begins to shake and he is even more concerned, because he knows very well the blood loss has been too much and the signs of shock are already present.
- I'm so sorry, kid. We should all have done something. But now you have to be strong, okay?
- She's so lucky...
- Who? Your mom?
- She doesn't need to see dad...ever again...
The trembling sigh escapes the boy and his body relaxes. The eyes weigh and the head down. Everything turns to a blur and he just let himself be taken away from all the pain.
- Marty. Marty, don't do that. Don't sleep! Marty! WHERE IS THE DAMN AMBULANCE?!