Ashleigh Anpilova


Gibbs tries to write to his father.

An established relationship story.

Written: July 2009. Word count: 1,000.



We're so weird. That's what I like about us, actually.


Dear Dad,


Ducky says I ought to keep in touch with you now we've 'reconnected', his term not mine, so I thought I'd write to you.


McGee gave me you email address, but writing's easier.


Abby and Ziva send their love. DiNozzo says to say 'hey'.


So, Ducky. I bet you're wondering who he is, aren't you?


Well, Dad, this is going to come as a surprise, probably a shock to you, but he's my -


"Ah, hell!" Jethro threw the pen down, tore the paper from the pad, screwed it up and tossed it into the trash can. He got up, snagged the bourbon bottle and poured himself a healthy measure. How could he write to his father, the man he'd been estranged from for over a decade, and tell him he had a male lover?


He had to tell his dad about Ducky, well, he didn't have to, he wanted to. If his dad and he were going to rebuild their relationship, then he couldn't keep such an important part of his life secret. Jethro didn't really like to admit it, at one point he wouldn't have admitted it, but he wanted to rebuild the relationship. Despite everything, he'd missed his dad over the years; he'd just been too much of a stubborn bastard to do anything about it.


He took a large swig of bourbon, held it in his mouth for a moment, before swallowing. Then he grabbed the pen again.


Dear Dad,


The car's great. Thanks again for fixing her up for me.


Got something to tell you. There's someone important in my life. Someone I've known for a while and, well, I'm happy. The thing is, Dad, and I hope this doesn't shock you too much, but this person's another man. His name's Ducky and -


Once again Jethro threw down the pen, tore the piece of paper from the pad, screwed it up and tossed it into the trash can to join the previous attempt.


This was hard. Why wasn't he like Ducky? He'd find a way to write 'hey, Dad, I've got a male lover', and do so in a way that didn't sound as if he was ashamed of it; which he wasn't.


Maybe he shouldn't tell his dad this time. Maybe he should just write a brief note to him, mention the car and - And what? Social chat, even with his dad wasn't something he did. Besides, his dad knew him. If he just wrote about the car and work and whatever else he could dredge up, his dad would know something wasn't right.


He took another deep swallow and picked the pen up again.


Dear Dad,


I have a male lover.


His name is Ducky.


He makes me happy.


Take care,




P.S. The car's great.


Once again he went through the ritual and sent the third abortive attempt to join the other two.


He sighed heavily, drained his glass, thought about refilling it, decided not to for now, grabbed the pen again and looked down at the pristine page. This time he would get it right.


Dear Dad,


He sat there looking at the two words, waiting for inspiration to hit him. He went on waiting and waiting. "Oh, to hell with it," he said, throwing the pen down and standing up.


"Is something the matter, my dear?" Ducky came into the room.


"What? Nah. Yeah."


Ducky looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Which?" he asked, his voice tinged with amusement.


Jethro frowned. "It's not funny, Duck," he said.


"What isn't? Jethro, what is the matter?" Now Ducky looked somewhat concerned, and he crossed to where Jethro stood and looked up at him.


"I'm trying to write to Dad. Tell him about us. But I feel weird. I don't know what to say. I don't want him to think . . . Well, you know. How did you tell your folks?"


"About my being gay or about you?"


"Either. Both."


Ducky put his head on one side. "I am not certain I ever actually came out and said 'Mother, Father I'm gay', not as such. It just became known, I believe; rather like osmosis. As for telling Mother about you; well I simply wrote to her and told her I had met a very nice young man, and from then on, I mentioned you from time to time."


"And you didn't feel weird writing it?"


"Well, Jethro, there are many people who would say we are 'weird', and that would be one of the politer things."


Jethro smiled and put his arms around Ducky, pulling him nearer to him. "Sometimes reckon we are," he said, kissing the top of Ducky's head.


"Oh, I know we are," Ducky said solemnly, making Jethro laugh. "And actually I rather like that." Ducky beamed.


Jethro laughed again. "You been at the cooking sherry again?"


Ducky looked askance. "Jethro, one does not drink cooking sherry!"


Jethro shook his head. "Ah, Duck," he said. "This isn't helping me write to Dad."


"How far have you got?"


"Threw the first three attempts away. With the fourth one, I got as far as 'Dear Dad' just before you came in."


"It sounds as if you're trying too hard."


"Reckon I am. Oh, I don't know. How long until dinner?"


"Twenty minutes."


"I'll have one more go and if that doesn't work. I'll leave it until tomorrow."


"Very well." Ducky tugged Jethro's head down and kissed him. "I'll be in the kitchen," he said.


"Right, here goes."


Determined that this time he would finish the damn letter, Jethro settled down again.


Dear Dad,


Hope things are okay with you.


Was wondering if you wanted a trip to DC. There's someone I'd like you to meet, someone important to me. His name's Ducky, and I know you'll like him - he likes to talk a lot too.


The car's great, thanks again for fixing her up for me.


I'll call you in a few days and we can sort something out.


Take care,




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