A/N:

NCIS folks: Gill and Cal are experts in lie detection, using facial expression (reading emotion), vocal stress analysis and other expertise. The Lightman Group helps various law enforcement agencies and other people when the truth is at stake.

LTM folks: Kate and Gibbs are federal agents who work for NCIS, investigating crimes affecting the US Navy or Marines. Kate is ex-Secret Service. Gibbs is a team leader and is reknowned for his gut instincts.

DAUGHTERS

She doesn't know what it is that first draws her gaze, but once she's caught, she can't look away. Gillian finds herself walking over and sitting next to Gibbs for no other reason than the expression on his face.

When she sits next to him, she suddenly realises what he's looking at. Cal and Em, having an animated, loudly humorous conversation on the other side of the quad. Gill's not sure what it's about, but it's fun to spectate.

Gibbs doesn't look amused.

There's an intensity to him when he watches Emily - especially if she's with her dad. Gill's noticed it before, though never to this degree, and she can't help being curious about it.

It's not inappropriate or creepy, it's just... intense. Sad. Longing.

"What's up?"

Gibbs looks more startled than he ever has the whole time she's known him - as if he hadn't even noticed her sit down. "What?"

She pauses. She's not quite sure how to phrase it. "You looked like you were... a long way away." She flicks her eyes over to where Cal is gesticulating wildly and Em is giggling.

He sighs, smiles ruefully, like he's been caught. "More like a long time ago."

She just sits, and waits. Rubs her fingers over the fabric of his jacket, just a reassuring touch on his arm. She knows sometimes a quiet listening is what people need most, and a sure instinct tells her this is one of those times. He looks down at his lap, then off to the side.

"I... I had a daughter. A long, long time ago." His eyes are distant. It seems like he's barely even registering his surroundings.

'Had'. She clutches her hand tighter on his sleeve. "I'm so sorry, Gibbs." It explains a lot. He loves Emily - it would be hard not to, of course, but from the start Gibbs seemed particularly smitten, particularly delighted by her relationship with her father.

But there's something in his expression when Emily visits which doesn't sit quite right with his obvious affection, and Gill realises with sudden clarity: it's grief. It's a strange juxtaposition - she can't blame herself for not figuring it out sooner. Cal might've spotted it, but when Emily's around, Cal's attention is elsewhere.

She waits to see what else Gibbs'll share. Whatever it is, she's bracing herself. Now she's recognised the grief, she realises it's there on his face most all of the time, and a grief this intense and longstanding... she almost doesn't want to know.

"She was eight. She and my first wife... they died."

His voice is bleak, and Gill's heart aches. She knows what it's like to lose a child, she's not sure she's ever going to get over the pain, but at least she can believe Sophie is out there, growing up, can hope she's safe and happy and loved. It's a comfort - of sorts. It's better than nothing.

To have your child die - and lose your spouse, too? Yet another puzzle piece has fallen into place. She wants to pull him close and hold him, but she really doesn't know him well enough yet.

"Was it... an accident, an illness...?"

When he looks up at her, his eyes are cold.

Not cold with anger or contempt, not cold because of her question, but because of the answer. Cold with sadness, grief, with pain so old and deep it makes her hurt for him before she even knows what caused it.

"They were murdered."

She can't help it, she gasps, her hand on her mouth. "Oh my God." Of all the things. 'I'm sorry' seems like such a feeble response. She remembers Claire's death, tries to imagine a grief like that and losing Sophie and her marriage disintegrating all rolled into one, without any of the relief of knowing Sophie was alive or being grateful she didn't have to deal with Alec's lies any more. Her hand moves from his sleeve to wrap around his fingers. She can't imagine it, can't even allow herself to try very hard, but she can see the remnants of his devastation all too clearly.

If she knows Gibbs at all, he would've doted on his wife and daughter.

She knows from Kate he's been married a few times. Having seen the way he looks at Kate, how much he clearly adores her before he's ever even allowed himself to touch her, she's never quite been able to figure out the mystery of how a man capable of such devotion has managed to end up thrice divorced.

It makes a lot more sense now. Even makes some sense of why he's so afraid of what he feels for Kate.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, finally. It's not enough, it's not a proportional response, it's painfully inadequate, but along with a listening ear, it's all she has to offer. "I'm so very sorry, Gibbs."

He squeezes her fingers, and a tight little smile appears on his face for a moment. His eyes are on Em again, and his expression is a mixture of love and pain. He is, she realises, doing what she does with little girls all the time - seeing his own daughter in Emily's face, wondering what his own daughter would've looked like at seventeen.

Gillian still has a mental image of how Sophie might've grown, what she might look like now. Still wonders what her favourite colour is, if she likes sparkles and chocolate the way Gill does, whether she had a pretty pink cake on her third birthday. She was only officially Sophie's mom for fifty-seven days, but she'll never forget. She can barely contemplate what it would have been like if Sophie had been taken from her after eight years.

"What was her name?"

For a few seconds she thinks he's not going to answer. His mouth opens but nothing comes out, and there's a hitch in his breathing. She's about to tell him it's okay, it doesn't matter, she doesn't need to know, when he finally says it, barely more than a whisper. "Kelly."

For a long, long while, they just sit quietly. Gill wonders if she overstepped the mark, digging into this, asking questions, causing him pain, and then his hand turns over and his fingers lace into hers, and she breathes a sigh of relief. She got something right, at least.

They may not have been acquainted long, but she already felt a kinship with these two. Now she's discovered she has a deeper one with Gibbs, and she resolves she'll find a way to help him somehow, if only by making sure he knows she's always willing to listen, or to just sit like this in quiet.

Cal and Emily are also quieter now - probably still arguing, but you don't need a PhD in Lightman family dynamics to see whatever it is is friendly and affectionate, half-joking. Gillian suspects it's one of their regular 'discussions' about college decisions or boyfriends - maybe both.

Gibbs heaves a deep, shaky breath.

She can feel him winding up to ask something, something she senses is important. But his soft question, as he looks at her sideways, his expression suddenly unfathomable, stops her dead.

"What was your daughter's name?"

There's a pause in which she finds herself gaping at him as if he sprouted wings or grew an extra head. "How did you know?"

He shrugs. "Recognised it."

Judging by the casual way he says it, he has no idea how remarkable it is for her to be caught unawares like this, for someone besides Cal to read her face with such ease, to see her pain and be able to make sense of it. She's heard of Gibbs' famous gut, but she hadn't realised it included a near-natural ability to read emotion.

It's her turn to take a deep breath.

"We - my ex-husband and I - adopted her. But Delaware... the birth mother - you're only temporary adoptive parents until..." She still finds it hard to say the words, to make any sense of it, even to herself. "We were three days short."

She half expects, when she looks up at him, to see his face creased up in scorn, or at least bemusement. How can her pain compare to his? But all she sees is genuine sadness and empathy.

For the first time in a long while, she finds herself crying over her lost daughter, letting out the grief that's never really gone away.

Gibbs gently tugs her in to his shoulder, his hand moving to her back, solid and reassuring, the thumb stroking her spine inexplicably comforting. He coaxes her fingers into the grip of his other hand, and she's struck, not for the first time, by how safe he makes her feel.

They're both still watching Emily, both still spellbound by the might have beens and the simple wonder of the young woman she's becoming. Both still guiltily, achingly jealous of Cal as he jokes and laughs with the daughter both of them have lost.

She pulls herself together enough to stem the tears, but doesn't move away. "Sophie. Her name was Sophie."

He clears his throat. "That's a pretty name."

"Thank you," she murmurs.

A low chuckle. "Thank you."

To her surprise, there's a brief pressure against her hair, and she realises Gibbs has dropped a kiss on the top of her head. She laughs softly. Here was she thinking she'd help him, and he's ended up comforting her. Well, maybe they can help each other.

Cal glances over, and she can see his surprise, his concern. He gives Emily a hug and a kiss, watches her leave the building, then ambles over.

"All right, Foster?" From someone else it might sound cold or impersonal, but Cal can imbue her surname with more affection than most people manage in an endearment.

She smiles up at him. "I'm okay, Cal."

He reaches out to touch her face, very lightly. "You sure?"

She nods, squeezes Gibbs' hand one more time, and stands up. "I'm fine." She reaches up and kisses Cal's cheek.

He looks surprised at the unprompted affection, his face creasing into a pleased grin, then gives himself a shake.

"Right then. Ready to go meet Kate?" And abruptly, real life restarts.

~ fin ~