Bilateral
Abby pleaded with the screens. Begged, watched, willed the screens.
The screens with his face on it.
Hoping that somehow he would hear her crying for him.
She sits stuffing her face with sugar as a punishment, as a distraction. She's not sure which. Maybe a mixture of both.
She could call him but what would she say? She wouldn't be able to say anything nice. Even though she missed him so much that it physically hurt she knew that if she heard his voice on the other end of the line she would blame him, and she would cry and she would tell him he had done the wrong thing. But what she was most afraid of was that he would tell her that he wasn't coming back no matter what she said. She was afraid that he would make her feel worse.
He hammers and bangs away on the rooftop, fastens door handles, secures boards in their original spaces.
Gibbs puts himself to work. Even in his 'retirement' he can't seem to retire.
He needs to take his mind off her. So he works. He saws and chops wood, he cleans and builds things. And he fixes things.
He cannot put down his tools. At least, not for long.
And every day he expects her to call him.
He wants her to.
He could call her. But what would he say? He wasn't coming back. And she would try to talk him into coming back. She would spring the problems of him being so far away upon him as soon as he dialed the number. But what he's most afraid of is the guilt he knows he'll feel if he called, the sad tone of her words, the gravelling tear-soaked voice and the quiet but pregnant silences.
So she waits and he waits and nothing.
Abby wishes he'd call even harder when Ziva is in trouble. She even speaks her mind aloud. Something she hasn't been doing for fear someone i.e. Tony will hear her.
And when the phone rings she immediately asks the question she is praying is rhetorical. "Gibbs?"
Gibbs feels a part of him die each day she doesn't call. Is she that angry with him for not saying goodbye properly? And as he is thinking about her a call comes in, though it could have rung any second that day and he would have been thinking about her he still can think of only one person who knows how to reach him.
"Abby?" It is a hopeful question, begging the person on the other end to answer him with a 'yes', or a very ecstatic 'Gibbs!' or even an, 'I hate you for what you've done!' Anything would be better then this silence ringing in his ears, only drowned out by a hammer and chisel.
But both parties are let down by the voice on the other end.
For Abby it is a completely different emotion worry and concern. For Gibbs anger is his first response.
The number was hers. She never used it. Then she gave it to Ziva.
That hurt him more then her not calling.
Abby wished with such fervor that he'd call her. Tell her he was coming home. Tell her he was wrong, and that he missed her.
And then the dreadful silence. No welcome hug. No hello. No words or looks or actions. Nothing.
There is no kiss on the cheek, no sneaking up behind her and breathing down her neck, n Caff-Pow.
They're both hurt by each other. Both needing the other to call.
Both letting themselves down.
And then he leaves. No goodbye, not even a kiss this time. He doesn't even come and see her.
And even before McGee breaks the news to her, she knows he's left. And when she is finally alone she becomes a crumpled broken mess upon the floor. And only he can clean it up. Only he can put back the pieces.
Gibbs' plane flight seems to take an eternity. He wants it to be over so badly, so that he can stop feeling guilty. But as soon as he lands he realizes that it doesn't matter where he is he can still feel guilty. And he does.
And so she goes back to her lolly jar. And he goes back to his fixing things.
Until one of them steps up and realizes the other persons point of view.
