A/N: A little angsty piece. Angsty Gibbs. He visits their grave on a rainy day. But is he alone? Please review and make me happy
Rain
His eyes aren't holding their usual depth, not their usual sparkle. The pale blue is more like dim ice, hiding a hurting soul. He lets the eyelids slid over them, turns his head up to face the dark grey sky, meeting the falling rain. The muscles around his eyes twitch as a large raindrop crashes against the corner of his eye. It cools him down, to some extent. Washes away the sorrow, to some extent. Mixing with the hot tears that, despite his efforts, he cannot stop from trickling down his cheeks. It washes him clean. Clean of sorrow and guilt. Washes his dirty hands, hands that he never wanted to touch the grave of his wife and daughter with.
He stands, eyes closed and facing the sky, as Mother Nature takes out her fury over the deserted graveyard. The rain pours. He smiles, hearing laughter in the wind, bringing him back to many years ago. He eagerly follows the sound of the song.
"Hush little baby, don't say a word, mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird…"
He looks up, finding his face tangled in red hair. He gently shake it away, brings up his hand to brush the hair off her neck and dips his head again, tasting her sweet skin against his lips. She giggles, tries playfully to pull away from him. He tightens his grip around her waist. Laughs.
"And if that mockingbird won't sing, mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring..."
Shannon turns her head, covering her husbands mouth with her index finger. He sucks it into his mouth. She ignores him, cocks her head to look out the window, outside the rain is pouring, scattering hard against the window pane.
"Jethro," she says, pulling her finger from his mouth. He looks down at her with sparkling blue eyes.
"What?"
"Isn't that our daughter?" she says and points out the window.
"And if that diamond ring turns brass, mama's gonna buy you a looking glass…"
His head turns sharply toward where his wife is pointing. His gaze lands on the girl, jumping around in puddles, wearing her Wellingtons, and a hooded jacket that is completely soaked. Meanwhile, she sings.
"I'll take care of it," he tells his wife, kisses her head before hurrying out of the kitchen. Shannon wraps her arms around her slender body, moving to stand by the window to watch her daughter dance in the rain.
"And if that looking glass gets broke…" she sings.
"Kelly!" he calls, sprinting out through the heavy rainfall. She stops and turns toward her father, a wide grin grazing her princess-like features. He can barely keep a smile of his own from sneaking up.
"You're gonna catch a cold. Mom wants you in, or at least put on a jacket," he calls, holding up her pink jacket. Kelly grins, noting that her father isn't wearing one either. She runs off to the swings.
"Kelly!" he follows the sound of her carefree laughter. Shaking his head in disbelief as a still smile plays on his lips. Kids.
He slumps down on the swing next to the one Kelly is sitting on. She looks up at her father with intriguing eyes.
"I like rain," she claims.
"Bet you wouldn't like catching pneumonia," he retorts, the jacket abandoned in his lap.
Kelly shrugs. "Guess not," she says rather reluctant. He wraps the pink jacket around her shoulders, hugging her closer to him. She buries her head in his equally soaked shirt.
"…papa's gonna buy you a billy goat…" she continued to sing. He laughs, joining in the song.
"And if that billy goat won't pull, papa's gonna buy you a cart and bull…" they sing together. And laugh. He looks up to see Shannon, standing in the kitchen window, she smiles. Her blue eyes sparkles, he can see that even from this remarkable distance. Her eyes never cease to amaze him. He lowers his head toward his daughter, finding her smiling up at him. He leans down, placing a kiss onto her wet hair.
"My little princess," he whispers against her head. "I like the rain too,"
"You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town,"
The sound of thunder rouses him from the memory. Or is it the feeling of the presence behind his back that pulls him back from reliving the past, he is not sure. He opens his eyes, feeling his hair lying slick against his wet forehead. His posture is stiff, scarcely moving a muscle as he overwhelms with a deep sadness, the remnants of what the rain haven't yet been able to wash off. It is not necessary for him to wipe off the tears, knowing they're indeed on his cheeks, but she wouldn't be able to spot them out against the raindrops.
He doesn't speak, doesn't acknowledge her presence. Just stands stiffly in his position in front of their grave. He's not sure if he wants her there, or not.
"It's raining, Jethro," her low voice barely carries through the rainstorm. Barely reaches his ears, he might not have heard it, hadn't he known she is there.
"I know," he replies, much to her surprise, he guesses. He supposed she wasn't expecting an answer. She remains at her distance, giving him his space.
"You're gonna catch a cold," he thinks he hears a slight shiver in her voice, for a second wondering why she's forced herself out in cold rain to chase after him. But the worry in her tone is unmistakable.
"So are you," his voice is still low, just like hers, neither wanting to disturb the peace woven over the graveyard.
"I'm more concerned about you," she replies, still not moving.
"I don't get colds,"
"There's a first time for everything," Now, the sound of footsteps on wet leaves reaches his ears, telling him she's moving.
"What are you doing here, Jen?" he asks, his question stopping her movements.
"Worrying," she admits.
Her tone surprises him; it's filled with a sadness he hasn't heard in it before. It causes more tears to burn behind his eyelids, forcefully reminding him of his own sorrow, the sorrow he comes here to let the rain wash away, at least to some extent. If he hadn't had the rain to clean him, he would break apart.
"That's not your job," he says quietly, doubting his voice would carry all the way back to her. He flinches as he feels a small hand rest on his back.
"It may not be my job, but it is my concern. You really didn't think I wouldn't notice that look on your face," he voice sounds much closer then he'd thought. He feels warmth radiate from her equally soaked body. She is close, too close. The closeness presses on his conscience and, he feels almost suffocated. Yet there's some undeniable force, indescribable longing that has him not wanting her to leave.
"What look?" he licks water off his lips, still not looking at her, eyes still fixed upon the gravestone ahead.
"The lost look. The anguish, the pain, the heartbreaking sadness. I see all that in your eyes, Jethro. But I can't see the sparkle, the life. I just see death," he voice breaks, hands withdraw from his body as she backs away from him, trying and failing to suppress a sob.
A shiver runs up his spine, sending coldness into every cell in his body. He closes his eyes, more tears trickle. Knowing she is right, knowing she's explained his emotions perfectly. Yet there's a difference in seeing them in his naked eyes, and feeling them the way he feels them. He cannot say she understands him. He can say she feels for him, wanting to support him in his grief. He can say she tries to get a grip of what he's going through, having gone through for the past fifteen years, but she never really can. He doesn't want her to understand, he does not wish this sadness for a woman like her. A woman so gentle.
He doesn't even acknowledge he's shaking like a leaf, wet right into his bare skin. Just focusing on the sadness being washed away. Knowing it never really goes away, he begins to wonder, if there's perhaps something else missing.
A small hand finds its way into his; he squeezes it gently, knowing she's taken by surprise. Probably not expecting him to be receptive of her small gesture. For the first time, his eyes aren't fixing upon either the gravestone, or the emotionless sky. They find her green eyes, the sky reflecting in them, and he is startled to see such pain in them.
Her eyes drift from his, holding for a moment on the inscription on the gravestone. His gaze follows hers.
Shannon Gibbs and Kelly Gibbs
Beloved Wife and Daughter
Forever My Queen and My Princess
A quiet sob escapes her; he gently tugs at her arm.
"Let's go," he says quietly, sending the gravestone one last, longing look. The wind carries the song as they silently turns to walk down the gravel road. Hand in hand.
The longer they walk the more compulsive his grip gets. He only realizes how hard he is holding her hand when a small whimper escapes her lips. He relinquishes his hold immediately.
They continue to walk the remainder of the gravel path. The small distance growing between them.
Reaching her car, she moves to stand before him. He is frozen into the very bones in his body.
"Are you cold?" she asks, knowing he is, but wanting to let him decide where this conversation is going.
"Little bit," he replies, though there's no doubt she sees him shaking with cold. "Why? Are you offering warmth?"
She gets surprised by the subtle hinting in his voice.
"Maybe," she says, leaving every possibility open for suggestion.
He never thought it would end like this, never thought he'd do this, ever again. But feeling her warm lips against his, chases away the cold, chases away the sorrow, to some extent. As it never really goes away. He knows he must learn to live with it, even after a time of fifteen years, he is still unsure how to cope. That doesn't mean he's going to let go of the only one who can help heal him.
He kisses her greedily, wanting to reach every part of her, wanting to devour everything there is to her, wanting to show his appreciation. Needing to let her know of his feelings.
He pulls away, finding her with eyes closed, taking deep breaths to refill her lungs with oxygen as he leaves her breathless.
She opens her eyes to find him smiling, it fills her with such relief that she can make him smile, even on a day like this. Neither of them speaks as he takes her hand, pressing his lips against her palm, reveling in the beating of her pulse against his lips as he moves to kiss her wrist.
He lets her take him home with her, lets her fulfill what the rain had started, washing away the grief when it weights too heavy on his shoulders, too heavy for a single man to bear. He smiles into her neck, lying behind her in her bed, clutching her body close to his own. He looks over her head out the window, the first streaks of grey sunlight shines through the clouds, breaking in the rain. He hugs her closer, willing this feeling to last forever. Just like this. The memories of Shannon and Kelly always so clear in his mind, Jen's body always so real in his arm.
The grief will always be there, under the surface, threatening to pull him down, drown him. He entwines his fingers with hers. He will also always have her by his side, saving him from slipping over the edge, just like he's always had the rain. Always.
The End