Sorry this is such a short chapter! Action is up ahead in chapter 3 so stick with me here. Any suggestions/comments/critiques, whether they be good, bad, or indifferent would be appreciated.
It didn't take but one quick glance around his father's house to know that he must be the exact opposite of his mother. His mother's house was full of dark wood paneling, expensive area rugs, and was packed to the gills with furniture. This house, however, was sparsely furnished. Every wall was white. The only wood to be seen was the hard wood floor. No pictures hung on the walls, no houseplants sat on sideboards or window sills. It was enough, Matt decided, but just barely.
"You can sleep there," Gibbs pointed to a comfortable looking couch with a pillow and blanket already neatly placed near an arm rest. When the boy gave no acknowledgement the older man decided a different course of action was needed.
"Dinner'll be ready in twenty. Shower's upstairs- second door on the right. Clean towels are under the sink."
Without a word, the exhausted young man drug his heavy feet up the steps and down the short hall, exhaling a sigh when he was safely behind the bathroom door. He let himself fall into a seated position on the edge of the bathtub, taking a moment to scrub his face with his hands. What just happened? One minute he was on a transport tanker to DC to arrange his mother's funeral. The next he's standing in a stranger's house under the brand new knowledge that it belonged to his biological father. He allowed himself to sit there a minute more before mustering up the energy to carry through with a much needed shower.
A hot, relaxing shower almost always made him feel better- but not his time. He stood motionless, both hands extended to the opposite wall as water so hot it turned his back red beat down on him. He didn't care that it burned slightly. The pain of his heart was more than enough to take his mind off any pain he may have felt to his body. He had no idea how long he stood there like that, his mind completely numb, when he heard two sharp raps on the door.
"You okay?" He heard his father call.
Matt snapped out of his trance just enough to give a "Yeah. Fine. Be right out."
"Dinner's ready," Gibbs called as he turned to start back down the stairs.
The young man washed and dried as fast as his exhausted body would allow, then pulled on a well worn pair of USMC sweatpants and a Penn State t-shirt. He would have been perfectly content to curl up in a corner of the bathroom and sleep for a week or two, but was pretty sure that the man downstairs would have something to say about that. Taking a quick look in the mirror, he smoothed his hair with his hands and made his way downstairs.
He found Gibbs seated on the sofa, two plates in front of him, each with a slab of freshly grilled steak on it.
"You like steak?" Gibbs asked.
Matt again smoothed his wet hair. "Uh, yeah, but I'm really not hungry."
Gibbs eyed him intensely. "Didn't ask if you were hungry. Eat."
Matt all but collapsed onto the sofa, his body suddenly feeling very heavy. He tentatively looked at the steak in front of him, suppressing a gag that inexplicably crept its way up his throat. He usually loved steak.
"I have to work tomorrow," Gibbs began, noticing the boy growing weaker by the minute, "but if you want, I can meet you at the funeral home on my lunch break."
Matt sat back into the cushions, allowing some of the tension in his shoulders to dissolve. "That's alright. I can handle it." He closed his eyes for just a moment. Just until the nausea passes, he told himself. It wasn't even a full five minutes later that his father heard the first soft snores emanating from his son.
Gibbs couldn't help the small frown that tugged at the corners of his lips. The kid was exhausted physically and emotionally, and understandably so. He hadn't eaten anything all day, probably hadn't slept in several. Gibbs noticed he had become increasingly distant as the evening had worn on. Shock, Gibbs thought. The loss of your mother was a big enough adjustment to make, but then to meet your father for the first time just the next day? The kid's going through hell. Damn it, Jen! Why didn't you tell me?"
The former marine finished his dinner in silence then covered his sleeping son with the blanket already on the couch. Just as silently, he turned out the light and made his way to the basement. If there was ever a time for boats and bourbon, this is it.
