Chapter 9 â€" Beginning to Cope
Turning towards her finally, Gibbs sighed heavily and reached out to brush her cheek with his fingertips, blue eyes drawn and tired.
"Take me home, Abbs," was all he said, dropping his car keys into her hand, and she hid her delight at what felt like a major concession.
Ordinarily the chance of driving his beloved Charger would have her bouncing with excitement but she found herself far too conscious of the man beside her to enjoy it. Tension and anger radiated off him in waves. He spent the journey home with his head back, eyes closed and cradling his injured hand.
To anyone who didn't know him well, he would have appeared to be almost dozing. But Abby could see the signs of stress in how stiffly he held himself, shoulders tense and jaw and neck rigid.
She was thankful the evening traffic was light and it wasn't too long before they arrived at his house. "Gibbs, you're home," resisting the urge to say 'we're home' in case he wouldn't welcome her presumption.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, he got out of the car. Abby hesitated on the driveway, unsure whether he wanted her to go inside with him… the 'take me home' may have meant that he just wanted a lift home and didn't want her to stay. Her mental babble was cut off when she felt his hand in the small of her back as he shepherded her to his door in his usual fashion.
"Basement?" was all she said when she was inside, taking off her coat. Turning to see him paused in the hallway, eyes tracking her movements, she moved closer and ran her hand gently down his cheek.
"Go," she urged him gently in the direction of the basement door. "Whatever else you need tonight, I know the basement is always a given." She made her way into his kitchen and set about preparing coffee and sandwiches, knowing he'd need the former but unsure if he'd face the latter.
Hesitating only briefly, Gibbs headed upstairs to change into jeans and a sweatshirt, somewhat awkwardly given his bandages. Returning downstairs, he was intercepted by Abby bearing a glass of water, painkillers and wearing a determined expression.
"Ducky will kick my ass if you don't take these." Her gaze dared him to refuse something so sensible, especially as the local anesthetic Ducky had injected into his hand so he could splint the finger would be wearing off soon.
She had an impressive glare of her own when roused and was rarely intimidated by even his fiercest stare. The look which usually had his agents running for cover Abby either ignored or greeted it with a sweet smile. In no mood for a mini stare down at the moment, Gibbs rolled his eyes and took the pills, more to appease Abby than anything else; his preferred choice of painkiller usually resided in a bottle.
"I'm making some sandwiches and coffee. I'll bring them down when it's brewed. I can er… " She dropped her eyes, hands fidgeting nervously. "I can go after that if you'd prefer to be alone?" When he didn't respond, she sighed and started to turn away towards the kitchen.
He caught her arm as she turned and stepped closer, hand reaching up to cup her cheek, his expression unreadable but eyes softer as he caught her gaze. "Stay?" he asked softly, the first words he'd uttered since leaving the Navy Yard.
More relieved than she cared to admit, she gave him a gentle smile in agreement and turned to press a kiss into his palm. He leaned down to press his lips softly to hers before heading off to the sanctuary of the basement.
Hampered somewhat by his injured hand, there were only so many tasks he could accomplish one handed, so he couldn't work out some of the tension in his usual fashion with hard physical work. But there were always more intricate but less physically demanding tasks to do when building a boat â€" sanding, varnishing or painting didn't always require either significant effort or the use of both hands. As he began his usual winding down routine, he knew he'd still find solace in the rhythmic nature of whatever he did.
The aroma of coffee heralded the arrival soon after of Abby with a mug and a plate of sandwiches. He was grateful when she merely placed them on his workbench and retreated upstairs without saying anything. He felt guilty at shutting her out like this, but sensed she was the one person who would understand his need to be alone and his desire for quiet.
His head knew Ducky was right when he'd told him that he'd no choice when he shot Michelle, but his heart still ached at the actions he'd been forced to take. He could still see her grabbing Bankston's gun hand and forcing his aim wide as her eyes begged him to finish it, mouthing 'do it.' In that instant, when she knew Amanda was safe, perhaps she'd seized one last chance at control over everything that was happening to her; control she'd lost months ago as her life started to unravel.
But what would he say to a little girl? What could he say to Amanda?
Upstairs, Abby curled up on the sofa, trying to read. Restless and feeling strangely uneasy, she was finding it hard to concentrate on anything. For the first time, she felt almost like an intruder in his home. She'd looked after him before when he'd been injured, but it hadn't always been in the immediate aftermath of anything â€" he was usually the one comforting her.
For some reason, she found herself suddenly unsure how to cope with him. Considering how well she thought she knew him, that thought unsettled her. Although she wondered how much of that unease was her desire not to harm their fledgling relationship by doing or saying the wrong thing. In some ways, if they'd still been friends, she wouldn't have hesitated in risking his wrath, letting him take his temper out on her almost as a release valve. Now they were lovers, she didn't know if she was doing the right thing in pushing herself on him so quickly. Perhaps she should have left him alone? She didn't want him to feel obliged to let her stay, or to feel that he should spend time with her if all he wanted to do was hole up in his basement.
Oh, stop it, Scuito, you're over-thinking things… again.
Unable to sit still, she got up and headed for the kitchen for a refill.
When in doubt, coffee… huffing a rueful laugh as she continued the thought, perhaps that should be a rule?
Returning to his couch, she resumed reading but found she'd read the same page several times without taking anything in. Giving up, she leaned back to close her eyes, finding sleep tugging at the edges of her consciousness. She'd give it a while and then take him more coffee and then either leave or curl up on the couch to sleep, depending on what mood he was in by then.
Some time later, Gibbs began finding the usual ease and comfort for his mind and body in the rhythmic work, even hampered as he was with one hand effectively out of action. Reaching for the bourbon bottle, his lips twitched slightly as he imagined Ducky's exasperated reaction to mixing painkillers with bourbon. As a concession to Abby, he also ate the sandwiches she'd prepared, finding himself hungrier than he thought.
Eventually, as the ache in his mind and heart eased somewhat even as his hand reminded him of his physical pain, he found himself thinking…
What the hell are you doing, Gunny?
Upstairs was a warm, vibrant woman who had stood by his side to hell and back on many occasions, and who had offered him whatever comfort he needed tonight and here he was, hiding in his basement.
Laying down his tools, he jogged up the stairs, almost bumping into Abby at the top carrying more coffee.
"I was just bringing you a refill, Gibbs," her voice almost hesitant.
Taking the mug from her and putting it down, he wrapped his arms around her, bringing his one good hand up to cradle her head and burying his face in her neck, feeling her familiar scent wash over him. Bringing her arms round to circle his back, she returned his warm hug, feeling the tension vibrating throughout his body.
"Abby," his voice hoarse and filled with emotion. "Need you."
"I'm here," trying to soothe him with her hands, keeping her voice soft.
Still cradling her head, he pulled back and brushed his lips against hers. He'd raced up the stairs, intent on pinning her against the nearest wall, desperate to bury himself deep inside her, but found his urgency draining away as her presence and gentle caresses calmed him.
She led him over to the couch encouraging him to lie down, mindful of his injured hand as she lay down alongside him. He nestled against her, nose nuzzling her hair, resting his bandaged hand on her stomach. She could feel his body gradually relax and his breathing even out as she held him. He eventually raised his head and stared at her intently. "Abbs, I…" he began, only to be cut off by her hand covering his mouth.
"It's okay," her smile was gentle, voice calm. "You don't need to talk to me. You don't need to tell me anything or do anything. Just… just do whatever you need to do to get through this… It's me, remember? I understand, really I do."
He pressed his lips into her palm, trying to thank her with his eyes. There was no hurt or judgment in her face and not for the first time, he found himself amazed and moved by Abby's kind heart and unselfish generosity.
God, he loved this woman and somehow, some day, he'd try and find the words to tell her if he could.
He eased back against her as silence settled over them again. She felt her own tension ease as his warmth pervaded her, enjoying the feel of him around her.
"I'll go and run you a bath in a minute, if you like?" she asked a while later.
"Plan on sharing it with me?" he murmured after a brief pause.
"I'd like to. After all, someone's got to wash your back." She felt him smile against her neck in response. He recognized her attempt to ease the mood and was grateful for it.
"Think I'm running out of Bs to choose from, Abbs. I already started on the bourbon downstairs."
"I think we can stretch a point this time â€" I did say mix and match, remember?" she teased him gently, trying to feel her way through his fragile mood.
"Then it's gotta be bath followed by bed," he eventually responded, "… as long as you join me, Abbs."
Unable to speak past the lump in her throat, she squeezed him gently before turning her head to give him a quick kiss. "Give me a few minutes and then come up."
She wriggled out of his arms and headed upstairs. Relaxing back on the sofa, he was conscious that the residual tension from the day was still there as his mind drifted over the last few tentative minutes.
Abby was trying so hard to let him have the space he needed while not letting him withdraw from her completely. He could sense her nervousness and hated that he was the cause of it. She didn't deserve to be treated like this. He knew he needed to let her in and vowed there and then to try harder.
It was early days in their relationship but he was determined to try and make it work. A relationship with Abby wouldn't be easy, mainly because neither of them could be classed as easy personalities. She was as independent and stubborn as he was, just as much of a workaholic and they shared both a fierce temper and a similar sense of humor. He was sure their fights would be spectacular, as would the making up afterwards, but the most important thing was that she understood him, accepting him for who he was. Perhaps that was another bonus of being friends for so long?
Making his way upstairs, he found Abby bent over the bath, swirling her hand in the running water while candles glowed around the room. Wondering where she'd found those, he paused in the doorway admiring her graceful movements until she caught him staring. Smiling and holding out her hand, she pulled him towards her, kissing him softly.
She took her time undressing him, gentle in her ministrations, before slowly removing her own clothes until she was clad only in her emerald green lace bra and panties. Running his good hand gently over the lacy edge of her bra, brushing her skin gently, he stepped closer, reaching up to release her pigtails and threading his hand through her hair.
He watched as she slowly finished undressing, standing before him almost shyly, given all that they'd shared. He was mesmerized yet again by how beautiful she was and drew her close, feeling his body react but just needing to hold her again.
Abby pulled back gently before she could get too distracted by the feel of him against her and encouraged him to step into the bath. She placed a towel on the edge of the bath so he could rest his hand and save the bandages getting wet. She settled in behind him, legs stretching out either side of his body. Running the wash cloth over his back, she began washing him tenderly, reaching along his arms and chest as far as she could reach.
"Can't reach much of you from here, Abbs," he told her, stroking his good hand up and down her leg. "Planning on staying behind me all the time?"
Swatting him with the cloth, she chided, "Yes… you're supposed to be resting."
Replacing the cloth with her hands, she stroked her fingers across his shoulders and started kneading the knots she could feel in his neck and shoulders. He moaned and let his head fall forward as she patiently worked each one loose. She gradually massaged her way across both shoulders and down the muscles either side of his spine.
She turned his head so she could clean off the remnants of the blood from around his right eye. He shifted slightly so he could lean his head back against her shoulder, eyes closing. She took the opportunity to gaze at this face she loved so much; the strong, fine features looked drawn and tired.
She pulled him back to rest more fully against her, her arms loosely clasped around him across his chest. He raised her hands and gently placed a kiss on each, before returning his head to settle against her shoulder.
"Sure I'm not too heavy?" he asked softly, feeling the tension finally draining away, almost totally at ease for the first time this evening.
Nuzzling his neck, she shook her head, enjoying this moment of peace, content to just hold him. Time drifted until she could sense he was almost asleep in her arms. Reluctant to let him go, she nevertheless forced herself to stir before the water cooled too much. Urging him to his feet, she grabbed towels when she stepped out of the bath and tenderly helped to dry him off. He looked amused, but let her fuss over him.
When they were both dry, she took his hand and still without speaking, led him to the bed, turning on the bedside lamp, sending a soft glow throughout the room. As soon as they were under the covers, he pulled her close and she snuggled into his side willingly.
He said quietly into the silence, "Glad you stayed, Abbs."
"Where else would I be?" was her simple but heartfelt reply.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Abby's help in unmasking the mole at NCIS becomes a catalyst for change