(Radio) requested by Umbrella-ella
Gibbs didn't mope. Nope, he most certainly didn't. Even if he did, he would never admit it. Never. He moved around his basement, sweeping up the saw dust that had gotten out of control since he had last spent more than five minutes cleaning.
He bent down, ignoring his protesting knees, to pick up a jar of nails that had been accidentally pushed off the work bench when Abby had been over.
A sweatshirt she had borrowed to ward off the chill in his basement lay draped over the banister by where she had sat on the bottom step. He gathered up any other reminders of Abby from the basement, and carried them upstairs. He didn't need a reminder of what he couldn't have, not in his sanctuary.
Upstairs still contained too many memories; where they had dinner together, where he'd wrapped his arms around her on the sofa and told her everything would be ok, and the guest room, where he'd tucked her in three nights in a row.
Heading back down to the basement, he found the small radio on his workbench and switched it on hoping that some gentle music would clear his mind so he could focus back on his boat. The blaring music that caused him to jump back made him feel, for just a moment that he was in her lab at NCIS before he yanked the power cord from the wall.
No, he certainly wasn't moping.
