Hope you like this. I need a Beta...so...is anybody interested? Lol. Tried to spot any grammatical mistakes but I'm tired and the plot bunnies are hopping around and multiplying in my head so...this is what you got! :) Thanks and please review!

Livy

I don't own NCIS. I don't even technically own my own clothes.

A woman with gentle fingers brushes them through her hair softly as millions of light-years away, stars are becoming stars.

He lie, seemingly fast asleep, beside her, arm thrown around her torso in an unconscious gesture of protection, even in dreamland. His eyes fluttered beneath his lids, dreaming a happy dream, she'd thought.

The ceiling fan creaked with each movement around and her apartment's mediocre air-conditioning unit buzzed with life. Outside, the midnight heat rose from the pavement as cars whizzed by here and there, creating a dense, muggy, feel, only present in late summer. The setting was perfect for sleep, like her lover was doing so now.

His bare skin against hers was warm and soft, despite his calloused hands from years of woodworking. The sheets around them were light and airy. And yet, regardless of all these blissful sensations, the woman could not sleep. Her eyes wide open and mind whirling with too many thoughts, keeping her from the peace she truly deserved after the busy day she'd had.

Looking back later, she would realize fate had a hand in this. It kept her awake because she needed the first piece of a magnificent, albeit intricate, puzzle, known as the man who lie next to her. It would just take her some time to learn where exactly this piece needed to be placed on the mat.

The piece was in the shape of weakness. Showing weakness, more specifically.

Still, the relatively calm night droned on and on until her eyelids began to droop and her breathing even out. That was when a sound pierced the dark, peaceful abyss she'd been encased in just moments before, the imaginary bubble of quiet popped with a sharp point.

He whimpered.

The sound made no sense as it traveled through sound waves, finally taking a resting spot in her ears. It startled her, made her flinch, and grow wide awake once again. Then just watch him with an immediate awareness, mouth slightly held open in shock. A second passed without another sound, and she wondered fleetingly if she'd just imagined the whole thing.

But then he began to move. As if battling an unseen perp, his head tossed back and forth and he gripped the sheets, thrashing, his knuckles matching the sheets' stark white. She instinctually knew now was the time to intervene.

Short, pained, cries cut through the air and each one made her increasingly panicked. The nightmare he was in must be horrible.

So she called out his name once. And then again, a bit louder. And then another time, sharp and frightened. She knew not to touch him, as he could react out ,out of instinct, of course, and physically take on the force in which was fighting him, not knowing it was her.

With a gasp, he awoke, eyes moving wildly, unfocused, trying to get baring of his surroundings. The dream was not real, he realized with a sudden feeling of overwhelming relief. His eyes settled on her face, looking into her beautiful but worried eyes he was so drawn to from first sight, letting out a strangled sigh of twisted contentment.

She was still here. She was ok. The blood and gore was not real.

She is alive.

He sat up in bed as she had when she had tried to wake him, back against the headboard and sheets pooled around his waist. He shivered minutely, cold sweat tingling at the back of his neck. She was a mere two feet away, sheets wrapped around herself and eyes still gazing fixedly upon his face, scrutinizing in a way that wasn't intrusive. She was still worried, he realized.

She swallowed and pulled the sheets tighter around herself, suddenly cold as well. She cleared her throat and finally gathered the courage to communicate with him in some way. When she did speak it was only a name. His name, in a soft whisper that fell questioning and soothing from her dry lips. She licked them.

"It's nothing. Just a nightmare."

His response doesn't surprise her. He was never one to show weakness and he always held his pride, even though the situation called for none. She knew all too well that you can't control your dreams.

She wanted to probe. She wanted to question him about what it was about and if he needed her to do anything, soothe him in any way. But her previous experience with him and his personality made her reluctant. He would not take kindly to all the inquiries. He was a very private man.

They sat in silence for what seemed an eternity. They were both unable to look away from the unwavering gaze of the other, despite the nervous feeling that itched at both of them annoyingly. They were not the type of people to communicate well when it came to sharing pasts or all that gooey stuff most couples love to spill three seconds into the relationship.

But then, as he began to calm even more, he decided there was one thing he must tell her now, while the thought was still fresh in his mind, standing out starker then the sheets against her tantalizing skin tone.

"I love you."

His voice sounded thick with tears, she thought, his voice breaking slightly on the last word. Processing the actual statement was even more difficult than the cry of upset she'd heard earlier. This three word, three syllable sentence having more meaning than anything he'd ever said to her before.

This was the first time he'd ever said the words, aloud at least. He held his breath for a second afterwards, a surprising emotion catching his being. Self-consciousness. Perhaps this had not been the time to drop that particular bombshell on her.

It was released, however, as he watched her eyes spark with a fire, his immense gratitude at her obvious acceptance apparent. She smirked, ignoring the seriousness of the situation that was previously over-taking her entire persona.

She leaned forward, small hands reaching up to caress his face and brush a thumb across his cheek lightly, sheets falling brazenly away from her body. His breath caught in his throat as she leaned in even more to whisper smoothly in his ear. He throaty, alto voice had a slight lilt that was unbelievably sexy to him. Sounded like butterscotch.

He felt his shoulders loose much tenseness and angst die down to a bare minimum as she whispered the words and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. One chaste kiss turned into two, and three, each longer than the other, until numbers were a foreign concept in her mind.

Forgotten, she never asked him of the dream again and he never had to relive it in dream or real life. There was always that irrational fear, though, that one day he would wake up and she would be gone.

When it really did happen, that one time, it was much like the nightmare. He was never malicious or unforgiving to her about it and when they were reunited she made sure to never let go of him again.

The sun rose steadily in the sky as they lay, nine years later, still intertwined, entrapped in stark white bed sheets, the heat of the morning combining with the heat between them to create one massive fireball of fervor. After hours of simple love making, they did not have the will power or the desire to pull themselves from the bed.

The clothes strewn across the floor from yesterday were proof that there had not been much thought in the past twenty four hours. And with a snort, he realized he didn't really give a rats ass.

A calloused finger drew meaningless shapes across her bare stomach as she lay upon his chest, content. Her eyelids fluttered shut, blissfully drowsy.

The yellow light faded to orange and disappeared altogether from the cracks in the blinds as a day of peace turned into night, and with one last thought, her words from earlier that day and nine years ago, lilting in a soft alto voice through his mind, he fell asleep.

He was not worried about having a nightmare anymore.

"That'll be the day."