Disc: I do not own the show or the characters of NCIS. I do own Damia Edgerton.

Couple: Damia Edgerton & Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

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I had been told by all the team that when things were bothering them, they always went to Gibbs' house. Even late at night they went, if the lights were on they knew he was still working on the boat in the basement. Lights are out and he's probably in bed so they would knock. I looked at the clock, it was midnight and I slid out of bed. I drove over to Gibbs' house. The lights were on! If they had been off I would have just driven around, trying to get myself tired enough for sleep. I stepped into the house and walked to where I'd been told the basement was. I walked half way down the stairs before stopping.

"Damia, guess it's the first time you've seen my place, huh?" His gun was close to him and I continued walking down to the bottom of the steps and sat down, shrugging.

"Want some help with the sanding?" He looked at me and held out a tool to sand the boat with. I walked over and I started to work on sanding. I had taken woodshop for four years in high school because it was something I liked to do. I slid the sanding tool over the wood, running my hand along the wood to see where I needed to sand.

"You know how to work with wood? That's a first! The rest of the team has no clue how to." He went back to his sanding. "When was the last time you slept?" I continued to work the sander, I didn't want to answer him.

"Four years in high school, I did woodshop." I didn't feel like answering the other question. He leaned against the boat and took the sander out of my hand and looked at me.

"Damia, even if that evaluation said you're clear for duty, it doesn't mean that you're okay."

Okay, so I was a smart ass that didn't like to talk about her feelings, so what?

"Why don't you tell me about the wife and kid you lost? I mean that's why you can't sleep isn't it? Besides the cases that hit too hard? The ones where you almost lose an agent or you do lose an agent. Or something goes wrong on a case and you blame yourself. You feel like talking about that, Jethro?"

I could see the shock of me using his name instead of his surname. My hands were shaking, hell my whole body was shaking. I couldn't sleep and I couldn't get that picture of his eyes out of my head. The pain he'd caused me was nothing, but he was so sick that he had killed four women and had been about to make me the fifth.

"What, you want me to tell you what a failure and weak person I am, Gibbs? You're the one that tells us to show no weakness. Breaking the rules on me?" I didn't expect him to grab me and pull me in to his arms. He slid his hands through my hair to hold my head as he stared into my eyes and whispered.

"You are not a failure! Getting captured and tortured was not your fault! Your old man beating you and your mother, also not your fault. You're a damn good agent, you have a good heart. You are not weak at all but you need to understand that being scared and weakness are totally different."

His handed slipped round until he was cupping my face. "There is nothing wrong with crying sometime's!" I pushed at his chest, trying my hardest not to lose it right now. "It's not just because you're my agent that I care about you. You have proven to be a person who is good inside and needs to work through a lot of things. I am not letting you go now, you've got me, Damia."

I just lost it! He had to damn well say the right thing at the right time didn't he? He pulled me back so my head was buried against his chest as I started to cry. I felt his hands slide along my back, he bent his head and kissed my hair as he continued stroking my back slowly. "I'm here for you, Damia, and that well never stop."

I don't know how long I buried my head in to his chest but he let me cry myself out. He held me so tenderly for a man that always seemed so rough. I pulled back a little and wiped my face. I didn't know what had come over me.

"I don't cry, you bastard. Why did you make me?" He wiped a few strays tears away from under my eyes, stepping into my personal space just not as close as before.

"'Cause I care and you needed to cry!" His cell rang. I had left mine at home. Shit! I waited while he listened and then replied. "Yeah, DiNozzo. She's here and she's fine. Go back to bed, I'll make sure she's okay." I saw him hang up. I grunted.

"Sometime's that man just doesn't get that I can take care of myself." I sat down on one of his stools while he leaned against his little worktable.

"No, it's more he cares about you. From what he told me once, you're the first partner he ever worked with that he learned to trust." I stopped and I sighed.

"I didn't want to get close but I didn't mind trusting Tony. He had my back and I had his. Guess that's something we will always have, each others back." I looked down. "The torture didn't bother me as much 'cause my dad used a switch on me a few times, so the whip was no big deal. But my father never stripped me down like that and raped me." Gibbs looked at me.

"He took something your father never took! I am sorry we didn't get there soon enough. I didn't want that to happen to you." I slid my hand through my hair.

"No, I was just the replacement punching bag for my mother, after she died. That's all I was. My father wasn't twisted enough to do something like that to me. You know, when I shut my eyes all I can see is his eyes, Gibbs. He wasn't sane and I saw the pleasure he got from doing all that to me, making me bleed and the need to make me submit." Gibbs sat down on the other stool.

"So your sleep has been poor for the past two months, since it happened?" I looked at him.

"It's not like I'm not trying, but every time I try, I see him or my fathers face!" I stood up and walked to the boat. I leant my back against it, and looked at him, sighing. Gibbs handed me a glass full of bourbon and I downed it in one go. He took my hand and lead me upstairs. He looked at me carefully.

"You need to sleep." I stopped and looked at him. I couldn't stop myself. I wasn't even sure why I said it.

"I don't want to sleep alone, Jethro." He nodded and pulled me along. He grabbed some sleeping pants and a t shirt.

"Put those on." He grabbed some sleeping pants of his own. I got changed in the bathroom. When I came out, he had put a futon and a sleeping bag on his floor, next to the bed.

"Let's get some sleep, Damia." Why I had been calling him Jethro? I wasn't sure I even liked the name.

"Jethro, you don't have to sleep on the floor on that futon." He smirked.

"Got two rules for you, Damia. One: you don't call me Jethro at work, that's just for after work. Two: what I say, goes, in my house. Understood these two rules?" I nodded and replied in a joking voice.

"Crystal clear, Jethro." I slid under the covers. Just knowing he was there seemed to help me slip into a deep, dreamless sleep.