Title: Between night and dawn
Rating: FR15- but nothing on screen
Genre: Family, Character Study, Drama.
Characters: Gibbs, Shannon, a little bit of Kelly.
Pairing: Gibbs/Shannon
Summary: Ah if he had known that would be the last morning he would share with his wife, he would have... What could he have done differently? How could he have made it last longer than it did?
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or any of its characters.
Juliet:
Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree:
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
The darkness of the night covered the house with its thick mantle while silence filled the rooms of the house. The ticking of the clock in the living room was the only sound drifting up from the ground floor, if you could ignore the sound of the wind blowing outside with the north wind, bringing a chill to the air and making those slumbering upstairs dive deeper in the warmth of the duvets which embraced them.
A dry branch of the tree in the backyard bowed and cracked under the strain of the wind, its noise echoing in the silence and waking up the slumbering man upstairs. He blinked repeatedly, his blue eyes slowly fixing on the beige taffeta curtains hanging from the windows, which left the pale light of the lamp post somewhere outside in. He turned his head to the bedside table and checked the clock on it, it was still early.
It was only five forty-three. The sun hadn't risen yet and the sky was a deep dark color still.
He breathed deeply and exhaled, the sound filling the room but not covering the soft murmur of breathing by his side. He turned his head to the other side and smiled a satisfied smile as he saw the peaceful slumbering face of his wife, her hair a messy bundle of curls around her face.
He hated being away but duty called. He knew that with the sunrise he would have to leave his beautiful wife and daughter and once again fulfill his duty to his country and to the Marine Corps.
That was his duty. The life he had chosen for himself. But knowing it was his choice never made the pain of leaving easier.
But the sun wasn't up yet, so he could still watch his beloved asleep, tired from their night activities.
ROMEO
It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
They had rules for everything. Something that started out as a joke and slowly grew to be something that would slowly weasel its way into their every day lives.
They had a rule about these mornings.
They did not say goodbye. Ever.
They've never spoken about what ifs.
Saying goodbye would be admitting that the distance between them was stronger than their memories. That their feelings were not strong enough to keep the ghost of their touch… or smile… always burning just in the corner of their awake minds.
A touch.
A smile.
It had to be enough until the next time they saw each other again.
Their rules evolved a lot since that day in Stillwater train station so long ago.
It grew from a couple of lines muttered between them to a barely there code for living. She would come up with a new one some a cozy evening by the fire and he would immortalize it in the following morning on the first piece of paper he could put his hands on.
But this specific rule was left unsaid. He could see the worry and the love intertwined in her beautiful eyes every time he was deployed somewhere to the great unknown. But she would look him straight in his eyes, her smile a little bit shaky and give him her blessing to fulfill his orders.
But it wasn't yet morn.
They still had time.
JULIET
Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I:
It is some meteor that the sun exhales,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua:
Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone.
The cover of the night lost its strength before the mighty tendrils of the sun, demanding attention and space in the big velvety blanket over the house. The stars dimmed and hid, as black slowly became dark blue, with faint grayish clouds here and there. Slowly yellow with white would come, filtering through the curtains and touching the marital bed where they both were.
He looked lovingly at the beauty beside him, seeing her slow breathing deep in sleep, enjoying the peace he could find in her slumbering face. Her delicate eyebrows were perfection against her alabaster skin, kissed with light freckles over her nose and her cheeks from staying too much in the summer sun with their daughter.
As if sensing his gaze, she sighed loudly and moved, trying to burrow deeper in his arms, seeking the warmth of his body against the chill that permeated their room. He gently takes the edge of the blanket and moves it, covering her pale shoulder at the same time he gently tucks one of its corners under her, protecting her, even asleep, from what the world has to offer.
He looks lovingly at her chin, sometimes so stubborn and proud as only a real red head can be. He loved that fierceness and strength, that was so carefully hidden by her gentle nature that one could easily think she was weak. But she wasn't weak. She was one of the strongest people he had ever met, not on the physical sense but on the emotional side.
She was strong because she loved him, demanding the same all-or-nothing devotion from him, forcing him to become a better man, a better person, every single day of his life.
And her strength made him want to become the man she saw in him.
And leaving has always been difficult, but never as on this morning - no, it's not morn yet.
The night still hid them in its embrace.
It wasn't morn yet.
ROMEO
Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye,
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:
I have more care to stay than will to go:
Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.
How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day.
She sighed again and he instinctively tightened his hold around her shoulders, almost wishing to leave a mark – an imprint – of her body against his. The tactile memory would have to be enough for those lonely nights on foreign lands and foreign beds, when he would spend his nights staring at the ceiling and wishing to be somewhere else, where the bed sheets are perfumed with sweet lavender and the pillows were decorated with silken strands of auburn hair.
The temptation was too much for a feeble man like him, so he allowed himself to gently - almost reverently - run calloused fingers between the fiery silk, watching it become alive under his touch as the first morning light breeched the curtains and dared reach them.
She blinked sleepily before her gaze fixed on his face, a soft smile gracing her lips as she found his eyes studying her so attentively. One of her hands is moved so it rested over his t-shirt clad chest, going up and down as his thorax expanded and collapsed rhythmically with his breathing.
"Is it morning yet?" Her voice cracked, laden with sleep, as she closed her eyes again and rubbed her cheek against his t-shirt.
"No. It's not. Go back to sleep." There was a faint hint of amusement in his voice which made her open her eyes again and look into his.
"But the sun is shining already."
"No. You are mistaken. It's not day yet."
"How do you know that?" She asks in an amused voice.
"Because I've said so. Go back to sleep."
She sighs and looks to the window where the faint colors of the skies were already there easily seen by anyone with eyes.
"So it is not day yet because you ordered it so."
"Yep." There was a faint grin in his voice.
"What a mighty husband I've found, who decides when it is morning or not."
"Lucky girl you are."
"Indeed."
Sleep was gone from her voice, substituted by mirth and laughter, as she left the safe cocoon of the blankets and his embrace and straddled him, looking down at him with a wicked smile on her face. He smirked and studied her carefully, as her skin became flushed under his gaze and her hair flowed like fiery curls over her shoulders.
"What shall we do while the morning does not come?"
His smirk became even brighter, as his eyes shined with care and love for her.
"I have some ideas…"
JULIET
It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away!
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.
Some say the lark makes sweet division;
This doth not so, for she divideth us:
Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes,
O, now I would they had changed voices too!
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day,
O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.
ROMEO
More light and light; more dark and dark our woes!
They did not say goodbye. Words were feeble and completely unnecessary.
Gestures and touches and sighs were more than enough to translate their love and devotion to one another.
The harsh light of the morning baptized them with white, yellow and orange as they sighed and touched their sweaty foreheads together, their hands in a firm grip, wishing for that moment to last forever but knowing that the light of the morn screamed that their time together was over.
The coming of light of the day meant that time – this unforgiving force always moving forward, never backwards – was upon them.
Separation was imminent and then they would have to count the minutes, hours, days, months before they could be together as one. Before they could finally touch skin with skin, before their gazes could meet and their souls become one again.
Time would rush but memories were created that morning, in a desperate attempt to strengthen them for the separation that morning brought upon them.
"You must go."
"Just one more minute." He whispered, his lips softly touching her forehead, like a father's blessing upon a child's head.
"Kelly will be awake soon. And she will want some quality time with you before you leave."
"She sleeps like the dead. I want some quality time with my wife."
Her giggling as he kissed her neck was her only answer.
JULIET
Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband, friend!
I must hear from thee every day in the hour,
For in a minute there are many days:
O, by this count I shall be much in years
Ere I again behold my Romeo!
ROMEO
Farewell!
I will omit no opportunity
That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
JULIET
O think'st thou we shall ever meet again?
ROMEO
I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve
For sweet discourses in our time to come.
"When will you come back again?" She asked against his chest, as he ran his fingers between her strands, fascinated by its softness. How women can do this? Be so soft and gentle and perfumed?
"We're initially scheduled to stay four months. But orders can change. They have changed before."
"Uhm."
"But I'll come back."
"Promise me?"
"I'll do my utmost best to come back to you."
"That's enough for me."
"And will you be here for me?"
"Forever and always."
"That's enough for me too."
JULIET
O God, I have an ill-divining soul!
Methinks I see thee, now thou art below,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:
Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.
ROMEO
And trust me, love, in my eye so do you:
Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu!
He left that morning after kissing his child's head and his wife's lips. The warmth of her embrace scorched his soul and the cries of his little girl begging him to stay scratched his ears.
The final image he had of them was of Kelly being held in Shannon's arms as he drove away in his truck and it would be forever burned into his memory as the distance grew between him and them.
The sharp light of the sun reflected on his rearview mirror, forcing him to squint so he could see them waving at him from his front porch.
Then he turned around the corner and they were gone forever.
Forever.
- the end -