Title: Please Stop Fighting…
Pairing: Ducky/Jethro
Note: Don't own; squint your eyes and tilt your head to see the spoilers for Hiatus; Abby's POV. Rules at the bottom.
Ever since Gibbs came back from Mexico, it's like he's been a different person. Well, not really a different person, but definitely different. There's a strain here that wasn't there before Gibbs left. And it takes me longer than it should to figure it out.
But as Jimmy seeks refuge in my lab from an upset Ducky, it all makes sense. The stress, the strain…things have changed between him and Ducky, and that's not how it's supposed to be. Before Gibbs ran off to Mexico, they were my constants. We were their children, as Ducky called us. He doted on us, Gibbs kept us in check, and we were one big happy, if not dysfunctional, family.
Now? We're broken. We're all tiptoeing around Gibbs, except Ducky. As far as I know, Ducky has completely shut him out. And it's just all…wrong. So wrong. And I know I have to fix it.
I park outside of Gibb's house and let myself in, Rule #18, after all. I stride determinedly through the quiet house, knowing exactly where he'll be. I push open the door to his basement and notice all the lights are on. Moving down the steps, I stop halfway and call out "Can I come in?" I can hear him chuckle, "You're already in Abs." I finish moving down the steps and stare at him. He's methodical, in his element as he works on the ribs of the boat, and I watch him for a while before starting in.
"I don't know what's going on here but it's wrong." He stops and looks at me, brow furrowing. I tilt my head up and give him my best stern gaze. It fazes other people, but this is Gibbs. I learned this look from him. I feel like a little girl standing up to Daddy for the first time. "You shouldn't have left. Ducky was heartbroken after you did, and that's wrong too. But now…you've broken stuff. You need to fix it."
He moves over to me, staring at me in a curious way. Finally, I let it break. I pout at him, my fingers curling into fists. I'm rigid, trying to show him I'm grown up, even though I know he looks at me like a little girl. His little girl. But dammit, I love Ducky too, and Gibbs is wrong. Stomping my heavy boot on the sawdust covered floor, I glare at him with my shoulders squared and my head up. "Rule #45 Gibbs."
Finally he sighs, and slumps, and I know I've won. He looks up at me, and he looks so lost. But I know I have to stay strong. He runs his fingers through his hair, dislodging sawdust, and looks away. "I know Abby, but I don't know how."
Okay, I break. I don't mean to, but I'm a Daddy's girl. But I don't let myself hug him. Instead, I lightly scold him. "Dammit Gibbs, you love Ducky! And he loves you too. And everything is all wonky with us. It's like mommy and daddy fighting! We can't be our best if you're not your best, if you're throwing Ducky off too." He rubs at his forehead, and I stomp my foot again, regaining his attention.
"You left, and Ducky's stories stopped. It was scary Gibbs. And I sleep in a coffin, in a funeral dress. I know scary. If you don't fix this now, you're going to lose him forever." I manage to give him a pitying look before I turn and start back up the stairs. I've said everything I need to say. "Abby," he calls after me, trying to get me to stop.
And I do. I stop at the top of the stairs, but I don't look back at him. "Rule #45 Gibbs," and then I slam the door behind me. For a second, I just stand there in the empty upstairs of Gibbs's silent house. It's eerie. Taking a deep breath, I pick my way back through the house.
Outside, everything is quiet. I glance back toward Gibbs's house before getting in my car and leaving. I've really done all I can. And well…if Gibbs doesn't fix it, then I guess they can have joint custody of us or something. Ducky can still dote on us, Gibbs can still keep us in line…and we can manage to be as happy as possible with that type of situation. But that scenario makes me want to cry. It makes my heart ache and my eyes and throat burn with the promise of tears.
I grip hard at the steering wheel as I drive home, "Please Gibbs, please…just fix this."
Rule #18: It's better to seek forgiveness than ask permission.
Rule #45: Clean up your own mess.