Title: Today, tonight, tomorrow…
Characters: Gibbs and his ghosts
Genre: Character Study, Angst, Drama.
Rating: FR7.
Plot: Gibbs reflects on what is, what was and what will be.

Written for the A man of a few words Challeng from NFA website.

Another year has come and gone.

I was shocked when I briefly looked at the calendar on my desk.

The date on it froze me speechless for a moment, as I realized that I had forgotten the meaning of today.

I immediately try to silence the accusing voices in my head, as well as the burden of guilt and regret that seems to lean heavily over my shoulders.

Today, Jenny has been dead for three years.

Time has not stopped and somehow I've briefly forgotten her. What we could have been, but never were.

I'm not the kind of man who keeps wondering about what ifs. Reality is what it is; the shades of missed opportunities do not color my thoughts. But at night, when I lay my head to rest on my pillow after my body is tired of sanding my boat, my nostrils filled with the aroma of fresh cut wood, I can't control my dreams.

In it I see them all: those I've loved, I've hated, I've battled side by side and those I've battled against.

Some stand there, just a few feet before me, staring or shouting accusations towards me, as Kate did when Ari took her down.

Some stay there, just smiling sarcastically, even though they are dead and I'm not. Ari does that a lot – but in his case I have the satisfaction of seeing the bullet hole in his forehead whenever I see him in my slumber.

Lately Paloma's started appearing in my dreams too, when my body is extremely tired and my mind doesn't have all its protective barriers up and running. She curses and threatens me and mine, sometimes taking a few steps closer to me trying to intimidate me.

Sometimes, I see her killing my father, and showing me his cut fingers in a neat little box, just as she did when she cut Mike's finger.

These nights I silently endure my demons, as I understand that they are somehow part of the price I have to pay to atone for my failures and sins.

I have no illusions: I'm not a saint. I've never been one. Never will be.

However, sometimes I see them. Sometimes it's like I'm transported back in time, and I sit side by side with Shannon at the train station in Stillwater, exactly as the day we first met. Sometimes I see Kelly playing tag in our garden or digging up the fresh soil after something I have no idea what it is.

And sometimes, I feel the whisper of Jenny's fingers on my neck, as I'm restlessly sanding another boat. This one will have her name.

So tonight, as I arrive home, I lay my head on my pillow and close my eyes, just waiting to see which one of my ghosts will visit me today.

I smile when I see her and whisper, "Jenny."

THE END