A/N: The following is inspired by Van Morrison songs: "Northern Muse/When Heart is Open" and "Steal My Heart Away." The notations in bold print are the lyrics and used only as a reference to emotion, musical scenery.

Gibbs was more receptive to love, with inspiration from his girlfriend, Suzanne. His days were preoccupied with her in the forefront. Having her work nearby was both a blessing and a distraction. Their romantic connection remained a well-guarded secret during winter. His feelings for Suzanne grew more, and Gibbs' heart opened more. Those closest to him noticed a softer less-abrasive Jethro Gibbs.

And she moves on the solid ground

And she shines light all around

And she moves on the solid ground
In the County Down

And she moves on the solid earth
And she knows what her wisdom is worth
And she moves on the solid ground
In the County Down

She lifts me up
Fill my cup
When I'm tired and weary, Lord

And she keeps the flame
And she gives me hope
Carry on

One afternoon, he glanced outside the window, watching Suzanne leave the facility for class. She was bundled, grey quilted coat, boots with closely fitted cap and gloves.

And when heart is open

And when heart is open
You will change just like a flower slowly openin'
And when heart is open
You will change just like a flower slowly openin'
When there's no comin'
And there's no goin'
And when heart is open
You will meet your lover

Oh, hand me down my old great coat

Oh, hand me down my old great coat
I believe I'll go walkin' in the woods

Occasionally, Suzanne stopped by for coffee refills, just saying a quick hello before performing another task. When available, Gibbs rode the elevator to the bottom floor, retrieving his own coffee.

"When Heart is Open, You will meet your lover"

"When heart is open, it will change, it will change, it will change…it'll be a different world, completely different world… when heart is open, you will change."

In the early mornings, Gibbs stopped by to grab a quick coffee in the canteen setup. Suzanne arrived to work at 4 o'clock, sometimes 5 AM, and worked in solitude. Often she was alone, since she was solely in charge of cart command. They'd talked, with Gibbs assisting, lifting the heavier items.

"Thanks, Gibbs." The smile began his day easier, more lighthearted. Suzanne appreciated the early morning company.

"Why are you here?"

"When heart is open, it will change, it will change, it will change…it'll be a different world, completely different world… when heart is open, you will change."

"I'm usually awake." Gibbs responded. It was true. He often awake during the night, thinking about Suzanne. "Figured you could use a hand."

Gibbs' help allowed the two to share a cup of coffee and conversation, just he and she, without distractions of work, school or inquiring minds within MTAC. It was a small table.

"Your coffee..." He smiled, Suzanne poured. "…is an aphrodisiac."

"My special blend. It's a secret." Suzanne smiled.

"Why aren't you married, Suzanne?" Gibbs sipped on his coffee. "You're a beautiful girl…"

"I never made it through a year of dating." She responded. "I've been focused on my education instead of dating, marrying." Gibbs admired her hands, how her French-tipped manicured nails curled around her coffee cup. The steam from the coffee gently fogged her glasses. Suzanne removed her glasses, fanning them to remove the excess steam. Jethro noticed small bags underneath.

"Michael proposed, said he couldn't imagine the rest of life without me. Blame it on Lord Byron: 'Zoë mou, sas agapo.'"

"Romantic…" Gibbs complimented. "My life, I love you in Greek."

"Guess we were in love." She concluded. Suzanne was visibly uncomfortable, hands and voice shaking in uncertainty. Gibbs noticed.

"I accepted on one condition: let me finish the first year of law school. He had a ring and everything, proposed to me when we came back." Suzanne mentioned, fluttered her ring finger.

"Michael agreed. He planned to work at University Hospital; I was accepted into Georgetown. We planned on living in Washington-separate places, of course."

"Of course." Gibbs agreed. "Because you're not easy…" He quoted the line which made him chuckle.

Gibbs remained attentive.

"La Senora Nora…La Reina—the Queen."

Suzanne pulled a picture from her Peace Corps days from her handmade wallet—placed it on the table. In the photo, they smiled, holding their quilts. Suzanne chuckled slightly from remembrance.

"It took me about a year to become a member of the sewing guild. Nora taught me."

Gibbs placed his hand on Suzanne's shoulder, stroked the base of her neck lovingly as she spoke.

"Rule 20: finish what you started." Gibbs stated. Suzanne nodded in agreement. "You're almost finished with the program."

"In four months…" Suzanne's smile grew. "You're actually the first man I've dated in two years."

Making progress, Gibbs thought. She almost got married.

"How am I doing?"

"Fantastic." Suzanne touched Gibbs' hand. "I feel like I'm special."

"You are special, Suzanne." Gibbs squeezed her hand. "You are very special."

Gibbs spoke from his heart: Suzanne was very special to him.


Sometimes, Special Agent Gibbs had a nighttime companion, a friend to cuddle with some nights. He agreed, reluctantly, to watch her dog, Fred when Suzanne had late classes.

Fred was a canine veteran who needed a home. As a surprise, Suzanne's parents adopted Fred, a golden Labrador mix, called during the holidays to, mocking her mother's tone, "come pick up your dog..." Her doggie care days were over!

The furry companion grew to Gibbs, as his fast barks alerted that someone came into the home. Labradors had a reputation for intelligence and friendliness. The canine persona was similar to Gibbs—always alert and selective about space. Mondays and Wednesdays were Suzanne's longest days, beginning work at 3:30 for deliveries, stocking and inventory and ending at 10 o'clock, leaving a night class. Tuesdays and Thursdays were shorter shift days, allowing Suzanne to work only 6 hour days—9 am to 3pm.

Suzanne drove to the house after a particularly long, tedious evening in class and a tension-filled research frenzy in Georgetown's stacks—the law library. Fred spent the afternoon and evening with Jethro. The front door remained unlocked, and she would come inside, walking downstairs to the basement, dropping her backpack at the front door. Suzanne knocked softly.

The journey's longer than

I thought my love
There's lots of things
Get in the way
But every time I think of you
You just steal my heart away

"Come on in, Sugar." Once Fred stopped the incessant barking, he knew it was Suzanne.

"I just came back from the library." Suzanne sat in the chair. "I came by to get Fred before heading home." The dog was resting beside Gibbs.

"Spend the night." Gibbs responded, concentrating on his carpentry work. "It's after midnight—too late for you to drive back and forth."

"Gibbs, I don't have a change of clothes-just underwear in the glove compartment."

He turned away and focused his attention on Suzanne.

"I know there's an explanation for underwear in the glove compartment…" Gibbs chuckled. He walked towards her. He leaned towards Suzanne, still sitting on the barstool.

"I don't wear gloves." Suzanne whispered, that impish smile appeared on her face.

"Well…" Gibbs removed her glasses. He kissed her sweetly, tenderly. "You don't need clothes to sleep."

Suzanne smiled.

"Also, I'd like to see…" Gibbs unbuttoned one of many from her oxford shirt, kissing, unbuttoned another button to the shirt, "…what is underneath the clothing…"

"Not yet." Suzanne replied.

"Sugar…" Jethro tried to persuade Suzanne. She chuckled softly, continually saying no.

Just like the sunshine after rain

I'll come
To be with you will save the day
'Cos I know
When I'm with you again
You just steal my heart away

"Only because it's you…" Jethro grinned. "There's an extra pair of sweat clothes in the dryer." With his eyes, he estimated her size. "I'll be upstairs." He kissed Suzanne on the cheek.

Moments later, Suzanne emerged from his restroom and joined Gibbs in his bedroom. He usually slept on the couch. That evening was a special occasion. He never allowed overnight guests, whether coworkers or lovers. No one ever ventured upstairs. She was surprised to see a very quaint bedroom, complete with handmade quilts. He tapped the side, alerting Suzanne to join.

The lights were off. Though tempted by the smell of lavender nearby and memories of simply sharing a bed with a woman, Gibbs remained a gentleman, stayed an proper distance. Suzanne slept on her side. He did, however, placed a hand lovingly on her shoulder.

"Good night, Gibbs."

"Good night, Suz."

Suzanne heard car backfire, immediately rolling out the bed. She remained asleep. The sudden thud cued Fred, sleeping at the doorway, to bark. The constant barks alerted Gibbs.

"Michael! Michael!" She called frantically. Suzanne's mindset was in the Peace Corps.

"Susie?" Gibbs muttered. Gibbs jumped out of bed, noticed Suzanne in the corner—eyes closed, swinging.

"Michael, come on!"

"Hey! Hey!"

Gibbs hurried to her side, turned on his small lamp. Gently rocking her, Suzanne's eyes opened. She looked confused, dazed.

"It's Jethro Gibbs, Susie."

It made sense. Suzanne displayed characteristics for PTSD—Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Some would classify, categorize Suzanne with the diagnosis. It never manifested in her "outward" appearance. She appeared cool and calm. Maybe—she was too cool and calm. The Peace Corps offered counseling. Suzanne declined, citing she was 'perfectly fine.' Smart-assed comments from DiNozzo improved her quick-thinking quips, masked the pain from that second Peace Corps assignment outward. Gibbs understood. Instead of talking, he held her, caressed her gently in his arms. It was needed. It was right. Gibbs gently kissed Suzanne on her lips, then her forehead.

Moments passed by, with the two remaining quiet. Gibbs convinced her to climb back into the bed. Facing the opposite direction and looking out in the evening skies from his window, she shared the most traumatic experience of her life. Not even her parents, her two best friends in life, knew the entire story behind her early departure from Central America.

"Michael and two other associates visited me from their worksites—Managua, Guatemala City, and Quito—to see my community school and the quilting circle…" she began. "They took over Tikal, my colleagues held hostage….didn't like Western values when it came to educating women…I was the youngest in our group…they were insistent—hiding me in that truck…but I didn't want to leave. The women in the village hid me in the van, covered me in quilts. Nora got in that van. She was skeptical of Americans, saw American women as a threat of taking away the culture. One day, Nora saw me at the Church, praying my rosary…realized she could trust me, God sent me there for a reason. She was the village authority—whatever she said, you did!"

Gibbs remembered Michael Franks' disposition the same way. He chuckled softly as well.

"She paid the old men to drive…and drive…drive us out of Tikal into Belize, where she knew it would be safe. We finally made it to Belmopan after a week. I smelled the gunfire, heard them just shooting, saw the guerillas killing innocent people…their own people. I begged the officials to give her and the men asylum, told them how the people risked their own lives to save me."

"How did they convince the guerillas?"

"They told them I was Hondurena, that I was an Afro-Honduro, estudiante Garífuna." It was term meaning multicultural ancestry. "It explained my height, my appearance-how I spoke English...They got rid of my glasses, my clothes…anything that raised curiosity, anything to save my life."

"You really loved Nora...and Michael." Gibbs said.

"I called Nora Abuelita—Little Grandma. She came with me, lived with me in the house. Her son, her husband was killed by the guerilla forces years before I arrived. Nora said to me –'Susanita-Mi amor por ti nunca se acabara porque te amo'—my love for you will never end, because I love you." She sighed. "Then, she passed away in her sleep about six months ago. I never knew how old she was—I guessed about 90 years old... As for Michael, the last thing we said to one another was 'Zoë mou, sas agapo.'"

The tears flowed.

"Michael never made it home; he was killed in the village." Suzanne whispered.

"Come here, Susie." Gibbs embraced her gently, large caresses on her back.

"ποτέ δεν θα περπατήσει μόνος του." Gibbs wiped the tears with his thumb, gently caressing her face. She only knew a few Greek phrases but immediately recognized the romantic sentence: you will never walk alone.

Cuddled underneath the quilt, that was the first night in three years Suzanne peacefully slept, the first in years for Gibbs.