The Courtship
By channelD
Written for the NFA I Sent You Roses challenge
The theme of the challenge was "Someone is secretly romancing Gibbs from afar. But who is it?"
Rating: K+
Genre: Romance
- - - - -
Disclaimer: I still own nothing of NCIS. The characters Balere LeBeouf, Joe, Mickey, Klara Schultz and Marie-something are OCs.
- - - - -
With the late evening lights on at NCIS, meaning fewer than the daytime blaze, perhaps it was easy to understand how Gibbs could have overlooked the dark blue envelope on his desk. Or did I overlook it? he wondered absently. Could someone quietly have come by, in the few minutes his back was turned?
The squad room was quiet and mostly empty at this hour. His team had all gone home; Klara Schultz' team was working silently in their corner, pulling a double shift. Outside, the last night of November demanded that winter show its stuff, and winter was complying. A cloudless sky had sent temperatures into the single digits, and Jack Frost had etched the windows in symbols and designs meaningful only to him.
He took a sip of coffee, still closer to hot than warm, and sat down. The envelope was face down; no marking on the back. It wasn't a business envelope, but rather of the size and shape that carried cards. Who would give me a card? This must be for someone else… But when he turned it over, he saw it was addressed to L. J. Gibbs, in neat printing; the silver ink glittering in the low lights.
There was no return address; no postage stamp. Someone inside had dropped it off for him. He slit open the envelope and started to pull out the card, when a soft touch of perfume reached him, and he stopped.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Gibbs, but I had a question about the MacNair case."
He looked to see. Balere LeBeouf, one of Schultz' team, looking lovely as always. She was far and away the most alluring woman at NCIS; a combination of style, glamour, and jaw-dropping good looks. Lately her hair was a light copper; a nice look with her dark skin. She smiled, used to the delayed reaction her presence often had with men.
"Oh, yes. What about it, Balere?" She is so easy on the eyes…
"Did you get an answer to the query you sent to Los Angeles? I think there might be a link to our robbery case."
"Not yet. I'll let you know."
"I'd be grateful." She smiled again, her gaze just resting on the dark blue envelope in his hand, before she turned and went back to her own desk.
Was that a twinkle in her eyes? Was she the one who'd put the envelope on my desk? He looked at it again, then pulled out the card. It wasn't a commercial card; rather one made on a computer and sized to look commercial. With no words accompanying it, on the front there was a cartoon image of an apparent "special agent" (oversized badge, big gun, NCIS written on the swoop cap). Inside it read:
Thanks for being a big, strong hero
Unsigned, of course.
What's this all about?
He looked down to Schultz' area. Her teammates, Joe and Mickey, were joking with Balere about something. It's been about a month since Balere and her boyfriend broke up and he moved out. Is she looking around?
There would be no answers forthcoming tonight. He shut down his computer, put on his coat, and headed home for a quiet weekend; just him and his boat.
- - - - -
On Monday he made it into work early, very early, even before any of his team arrived. I may have to go out for the second cup of coffee earlier than usual, but I have to know…
Yes, there was something new on his desk: a small box, large enough to hold a coffee mug. His eyes swept the squad room. No one else was there, and the lights were just coming up to daytime work levels. Of course, anyone could have come in over the weekend to put this here…
His first thought was to handle it with gloves, and check it for prints. He reached into his desk drawer fro gloves, then stopped as a smile lit his face. No, that would take the fun out of it. He sat down and opened the box, carefully. The mug was dark blue, an apparent souvenir of the Navy Museum next door. In white letters, it said My #1 Marine. Inside was a bag of multi-flavor jelly beans, with a sticky note attached: Sweets for the sweet. Nothing else; no clue as to the giver.
Sentimental and nice, though not particularly original. Could use a speechwriter. Then he chided himself for being too exacting. Someone's doing nice things for me, and I want better? Sheesh.
He hastily put the items away as Balere and Joe came out of the elevator; talking to each other. Balere smiled at him in passing, and he smiled back, wondering…
- - - - -
"Whoopsie! Watch it, Gibbs-san!"
"Sorry," he said, as he helped Klara Schultz straighten her armful of binders following their collision, even as he rolled his eyes. As a team leader herself, the ex-Navy officer should have been rather like him in outlook, temperament, and behavior, but they were worlds apart. In the three years they'd worked together, he'd found her capable but often exasperating, not the least of which was a slightly goofy sense of humor. He preferred women with a dry wit.
Should I ask about Balere? Do I really have enough to go on, to think they're from her?
"You look 1000 miles away," Schultz remarked, with raised eyebrows. "I almost need a telescope to see you. My vision's normally good to 900 miles, but—"
"Do you ever wonder if we're too old, Schultz?" he asked suddenly.
"For what? For skateboarding? You and I are reaching that age where we have to take care of our bones. For blogging until 3 a.m.? Hmmm, maybe. I normally stop by 2 or 2:30. Is that why you've been looking tired and jittery lately?"
As often happened, her conversations made him dizzy. How the heck does she manage a top-notch team with all that clutter in her brain? "Uh, no. I meant starting over. In a new relationship."
She turned serious, for once. "I suppose congratulations are in order? You've found someone?" Her gray eyes searched his face.
"Not exactly. Something's in the wind, it seems. How about you? You've been married twice, and aren't attached at the moment. Are you looking?"
"The moment I stop looking will be because I've died. And then in heaven, I'll still be looking. But down here I want to do the Henry VIII thing. So far I'm divorced once and widowed once, so I have four more husbands to go." She grinned and went on her way.
Heaven help them, Gibbs thought.
- - - - -
The need to check on an old case with new suspected terrorist connections sent him up to MTAC around noon. It would do him good, for one thing, to try to get the gifts out of his mind.
He thumbed through the file, memories coming back. A lovesick ensign, returning from a tour of duty in Japan, had found that his girl had moved on, She disappeared. No body was ever found. The ensign was questioned several times, but always came up clean.
"I loved her," he'd said. "Why would I ever harm anyone that beautiful, that perfect? You don't hurt someone like that; you bring gifts to them and worship them."
Gibbs frowned as his thoughts wandered back to his own situation. I'm not sure I want to be worshiped.
"Oh, hello, Agent Gibbs. Is there something I can help you with?"
Jolted out of his thoughts again, he shook his head as he looked up at the reference clerk on duty, Marie-something; new here. A pretty auburn-haired thing whose stylish glasses made her look wonderfully hip. Her smile was wide, and perhaps a little too enthusiastic.
Oh, no; not another possibility! And if I felt old…well, old-er…compared to Balere, I feel like a grandfather next to Marie. He only grunted and made a quick exit.
- - - - -
He sent Tony and Ziva out into the field, and Tim down to the lab to work with Abby. Not only did he have a lot of desk work to do (better done in peace and quiet), but he didn't want the others to notice his fidgeting. What's going to happen next?
The answer came early that evening, as he once again worked late, after his team had left. In the hallway, he heard low voices in the break room. Balere and Schultz. He stopped short of the door and listened, unable to tear himself away. "…put a little more into it." That was Schultz. "Make it come alive. Make it rhyme, maybe. Don't you know any poems you can use?"
"Oh, I don't know, Klara. I didn't think it would be this hard."
"Of course it's hard. Love has never been easy. But it's worth the work."
Gibbs forced himself to turn back, feeling bad about having eavesdropped as much as he had. So it's Balere. Well, I could do a lot worse. Still, I'm almost 20 years older than her. What does she see in a fossil like me? And why doesn't she come out and say something?
- - - - -
The next gift was on his desk when he and his team returned the following afternoon from a homicide in Bethesda. This one wasn't on his desk, however. He only discovered it when he opened the largest of his desk drawers, looking for whatever it was he'd brought that day for an afternoon snack. A foil bag, like a gift bag, caught his eye.
Too early for the Secret Santa, he thought, his heart racing a little while he hoped it was indeed from…well, Balere. From Balere. And he still hadn't figured out how he should respond; how he wanted to respond. Does she want me to know I know? Why hasn't she said anything?
She was in that relationship, with that guy, Jordan, for almost ten years. Maybe she's uncomfortable being back in the dating scene again. Though I'd think she'd have guys following her like puppies everywhere, and like the song says, all she'd have to do "was pick the age, the weight and size."
'Gee,how I wish I was back in the Army'…uh, Marines!
Why me?
Because we work together? And it's safer going with someone who's already a friend?
When his team left together on afternoon break, Gibbs quickly attacked the package in his drawer, while not looking in Schultz' team's direction. If they knew, they knew; if not, he wasn't about to start it up.
The bag contained an elegant travel mug for his coffee…He remembered now having mentioned recently that he'd thrown out his old one and not replaced it yet. Someone had been listening, evidently. A one-pound bag of select coffee beans was also in the bag, along with a folded slip of paper that he almost overlooked.
You make me laugh, like Roger does for Jessica Rabbit.
You can slip out of handcuffs, even when nothing's funny.
I love to see you smile.
I love to see you, even when you're not smiling.
I love to see you.
- - - - -
The next day Schultz' team was out beyond Baltimore somewhere. There were no new gifts for Gibbs, and he started feeling disappointed. He was short-tempered with his team, who'd done nothing wrong, and while he regretted it, he found himself unable to stop. Instead he signed out a few hours early and went home. His boats never left him secret messages or gifts; they were just wood, responding to a good sanding with a sheen and a softness. You knew where you stood with a boat.
- - - - -
Again he made into work early the next day, but there was nothing new in or on his desk. I should have said something to her. I've probably scared her off because I didn't respond. Maybe it's not too late…
He was startled from his thoughts by Jenny coming up to him, lugging…was that a box of flowers?
She was grinning ear to ear. "Have you got a new one on the string, Jethro? I signed for these for you. The florist deliveryman arrived at the same time I did."
"Flowers? For me? No one's ever sent me flowers before." He looked at the box as she set it on his desk, and swallowed.
After a beat, she saw that he didn't want to open them in her presence, probably since she was dying to know more. But she tried being generous. "There are vases in the cupboards in the break room. Before you put them in water, cut a little bit off the bottoms of the stems. The florist has probably enclosed a packet of chemicals that will help preserve the flowers. Empty it into the water."
"Okay, thanks…" When she was gone, he opened the box. It contained a dozen dark red, long-stemmed roses. The card simply said, "You didn't look hard enough, my observant champion! Check your desk again, my friend. Hint: I used cello tape."
What on earth…ah. He reached under the desk, and felt something taped to the underside. Carefully he pulled the paper out.
I sent you roses.
It may not be the manliest of gifts, but when I see your eyes, I know that there are no true divisions
between 'manliness' and 'feminine'.
.All that counts is how the heart feels. Both sexes know beauty when they see it.
Sometimes, when on the Alpine rose
The golden sunset leaves its ray,
So like a gem the flow'ret glows,
We thither bend our headlong way;
And though we find no treasure there,
We bless the rose that shines so fair.
Thomas Moore! This much remembered from his school days. Suddenly her poetic knowledgehas, well, blossomed. Balere was quite bright, but had always freely admitted that she'd take non-fiction over fiction or poetry any day. He found this change immensely attractive.
He read the note over and over, his smile growing.
- - - - -
"Flowers, boss?"
"Very observant, Di Nozzo."
"Who are they from?" asked Ziva.
He was still smiling, but wasn't ready to spill the beans yet. I will talk to her. Before the day is over. "Do they have to be from someone?"
"Well, if they're not, that means you sent them to yourself," Tim chimed in, then, seeing Gibbs' glare, added, "and that's not a bad thing, either. And I think I have work to do."
Gibbs chuckled silently as his team busied themselves. Down in the other half of the squad room, Schultz' team was also busy. Gibbs studied them from his desk, fighting to keep from smiling.
When Schultz got up to get a fresh fruit-flavored water from her stash in the break room's refrigerator, Gibbs silently followed her in, after checking to see that no one else was in there. "They were contemporaries, you know."
"Gibbs! You startled me. Who were contemporaries?"
"Thomas Moore and Longfellow."
She looked thoughtful. "Yes, though Moore was born about 30 years before Longfellow. I don't think Moore ever came to the US. I've heard they did a lot of communicating by email."
He chuckled. "Why did you do it, Schultz? You played a John Alden to her Miles Standish, sort of. But Longfellow had it that Priscilla Mullins, who I guess is played by me here, was wooed by John on behalf of his friend, Miles."
"Hmm. Interesting theory."
"Balere doesn't really love me, does she? She thinks she may be interested, but her feelings are in doubt. She's still rebounding."
"I wanted her to be happy again. I suggested she ask you out. She's not old school, like our generation; she doesn't mind asking men for dates, But still, she's been out of circulation for awhile, so I suggested she lead into it with gifts."
He smiled, and looked down. "But she's not a romantic writer. I know you were an English major in college. And when the tone of the gifts' messages changed, I knew something was up…Longefellow claimed that in the Pilgrim times, John Standish went to woo Priscilla Mullins on behalf of his friend, Miles Standish. But Alden was himself in love with Priscilla. As Longfellow's Priscilla said in the poem, 'Why don't you speak for yourself, John?' "
Now she looked embarrassed. "Uh…you wouldn't want to go out sometime, would you? Like on a date, or something? To a movie, maybe? A comedy, so we can cry? Or a sad one, so we can laugh?"
He took her face in his hands and kissed her. "That's a great idea, John, er, Klara. I accept."
"Good, Pick me up Friday at 8, Priscilla? But what will we tell Miles?"
Again he kissed her, and murmured, "Miles who?"
"Good. It's about time you two found each other!"
They looked up. Balere stood there, smiling. "I'm not much of an actress," she said. "I did everything I could to try to get Klara show her hand. My only question is…"
"Rule #12?"
"Husband #3 out of 6?"
"Uh, no; I was thinking more like…I enjoyed doing this. Do you think I should get into the matchmaking business?"
Gibbs and Schultz looked at each other, smiling into each other's eyes. "We'll let you know," they chorused.
- END -