FIVE

By Annie Olsen

Part I - Light

Chapter One - Contact.

She knew she was on the ground. It was hard and cold. There was a flash of brilliant light. It made her head hurt. As it dimmed she became aware of a person in front of her. They were talking. She could see their mouth moving. Somewhere there was sound.

"It's okay. You're safe now." A woman's voice. "My name is Shannon." She sounded nice. Calm and soothing. She had covered her with a blanket and was stroking her hair. "Stay still now. The medics are on their way. My husband has gone after the man that attacked you. You're safe now. It will all be okay."

Then the comforting darkness enveloped her once again..

He'd run after her assailant, detaining him until the cops arrived. He hadn't realised at the time, that it was the victim's husband.

She was badly hurt. She lost her baby. She almost lost her life. By the time she was well again her (by now) ex-husband was in prison with no chance of parole for at least 20 years.

The man and his wife had been re-deployed. She returned to an empty house to pack up and start a new life alone. (The Navy didn't really care where. With the trial over and her divorce through, she was no longer part of their remit)

She had always meant to write to the couple that had helped her, but you know how things get. Life has a habit of getting in the way. With the best of intentions, things still don't get done. In time, it all became a fairly distant memory.

Twenty years. A lifetime and yet all too short a time. The parole board had been in contact.

"You have the right to appeal to the board with any reason why parole should not be granted."

It was so long ago and yet she could not be free of that bastard. She knew she needed help - A credible witness to speak on her behalf.

It took hours of internet searching. All this time she had thought he was Navy. She was wrong. She remembered his wife was called Sharon - but that was also wrong.

She had no idea what he was doing now. She guessed he must be retired - lf, of course, he was still alive. She found a newspaper article about his family's tragic accident and cried for his loss. She found no less than FOUR marriage records. They couldn't ALL be him could they? But then, there couldn't be many men with such a distinctive name. Finally, she tracked him down to an office in DC and an email address.

"Dear Special Agent Gibbs," she wrote.

She recognised him immediately as he walked through the coffee shop door. The Marine haircut did pretty much give it away! He carried himself with confidence, with authority. He ordered coffee, black, no sugar, to go. He took the cup from the barista, thanking her. He looked around the store and walked straight toward her. She stood. They shook hands.

"Thank you for coming. I wasn't sure you'd recognise me."

"Well, you seemed about the right age, you were sitting alone - but clearly waiting for somebody ... and I looked up your driving license before I left the office."

She laughed. He smiled self consciously. They sat down and shared a few minutes of polite chit-chat - where had the time gone? What do you do now? Where do you live these days? She was surprised he was still in the house. Then his mood darkened slightly folded his arms and leaned across the table towards her. He looked at her with serious eyes.

"What can I do to help?"

It was the first of many meetings over a frustrating number of weeks. The life thing was doing its level best to get in the way once again.

She had to fly back to Boston or Philadelphia (whichever office needed her) sometimes. He had to cancel for 'work' reasons at others. They met for coffee. They met for lunch. They met for dinner. She met his work colleagues. They were very curious about her and how she knew The Boss. Gibbs glared at them and they changed the subject quickly. Nice people though, and they clearly cared deeply for their friend. She liked that. It was comforting to know he wasn't alone. Sometimes, when he was tired, the charm and confidence would slip a little and he'd look ... sad, lost even.

She was even introduced to the woman in his life. One dreary evening when their plans were rained out, he'd taken her to his home. They had driven past her old house. It had changed a lot. There was a new extension on the side and it was painted a different colour. Heart wrenchingly, there were children's toys in the yard - a swing, some bikes. She must have made some kind of noise. Gibbs slammed the car brakes. Looking across at her ashen form, he followed her gaze and realised where he was. He touched her shoulder.

"Are you okay? I should have taken another route. I wasn't thinking." He was concerned. She was terribly pale.

"It's okay, really." She patted his hand trying unconvincingly to reassure him. "You weren't to know what my reaction would be. Hell, I didn't know what my reaction would be. I hadn't thought about it at all ... This is the first time I've seen it since ... "

"Let's go". He started the car and they drove the short distance to his house in silence. He helped her out of the car and placed an arm protectively around her shoulders. "Come on, let me introduce you to the lady in my life ... "

She stepped inside the house. She doubted it had changed much in twenty years. She knew he lived alone and expected a dog to come bounding out to meet them but no. He led the way, holding her hand.

"Careful there, in those heels," he said. He guided her down the stairs, bracing himself with each step in case she missed her footing.

They reached the basement floor and he switched on the overhead lights.

"So?" He asked proudly. "What'd'ya think?"

She stared in disbelief at the structure in front of her.

"It's a boat." She said, stating the obvious.

"Yep. It sure is." He replied patting the craft paternally.

"It's a very big boat." She continued.

"No, it's not that big. Anymore and it wouldn't have fit in the basement."

"It's a boat and it's in the basement."

"Well I didn't want it in the yard to get wet in the rain."

"It's a boat, they're supposed to get wet."

"Only when they're finished and this one isn't finished. That's why I keep her in the basement."

Her head hurt. She considered herself a fairly well educated person, but for the life of her, she couldn't see ... "How d'you ... ?"

He held out his hand. In it was a jam jar with a dark alcoholic liquid in it. She sniffed at it suspiciously. "Isn't it a little early?"

"Just the one - for the shock. Sip it now," he warned, "It's strong stuff."

She took a deep breath and downed the whole lot in one. "Is it?" She asked. He looked impressed. He couldn't help but smile.

They spent the rest of the evening putting the world right over pizza, coffee and sawdust. He spoke proudly and with great enthusiasm about the vessel and the array of tools used to build her. About this being the fifth such craft (all built by hand) and the skills needed - passed down by his Dad.

She understood little of the technical side but to see him so animated about his hobby was a joy in itself. It was a pleasant evening in the end despite its poor start. He escorted her back to her hotel - ever the gentleman. It occurred to her that these days they rarely talked about the hearing. Their time together had bloomed into friendship. She forgot about the impending prison trip ... at least for a short while.

When the parole hearing was eventually called, it did not go well. She watched Samuel (her ex-husband) from behind a two way mirror. He must surely have known she was there. Some comments were, she felt aimed directly at her. Just to be that close to him made her blood chill. Gibbs put an arm around her shoulders protectively.

"It's okay. He can't see you. You're safe in here."

She hadn't realised she was trembling. She sat and listened as Samuel told the board that he was no longer the angry, jealous young man he once was. That he had received counselling and anger management training. That he no longer hated women. That he understood his issues stemmed from his childhood and his parents' acrimonious divorce. He told the board he wanted to apologise to his wife for what he had done and make amends in some way. He had paid his debt to society. He looked straight at her through the glass. He smiled coldly. Now he wanted to pay his debt to her. She thought she would puke.

"My God, he's going to get out," she whispered. "I'll spend the rest of my life running." Her knees gave way. Gibbs caught her and sat her down. He whispered into her ear,

"You're okay," he tried to reassure her. "Take a deep breath now. Slowly, that's it." He held her close and stroked her hair to sooth her. "Try to stay calm." He nodded towards Samuel. "He can't hurt you in here. He's just playing games - trying to get into your head."

"Well it's working." She replied trying to force the encroaching panic aside.

Gibbs turned her by the shoulders and held her gaze with his own. "Just tell them how you feel. Tell them of your fears and how long it's taken you to recover. Why you don't believe what he's saying. What you'll have to do with if he gets out."

He pulled her close to him and pointed to the floor. "I'll be right here when you get back. Right here. I'm not going anywhere."

She wanted to present a calm, professional image. Instead - there was trembling, tears, sniffling into tissues and the need for a glass of water. How pathetic! That's why she needed a second. Gibbs' statement was characteristically short and to the point. Now he just wanted to get her out of there. She was a complete mess.

They left the ante-room just in time for Samuel to be escorted back to his cell. He looked at her. He looked at Gibbs. His face went purple. He ground his teeth in rage. He balled his fists. He spat.

"It's him," he screamed at her. "He's the one that caught hold of me." He aimed all his rage towards his ex-wife. The venom towards her clearly visible. "You were fucking him then too, weren't you? That was his bastard kid inside you wasn't it?" Pointing at her stomach. "You slut. And then you have the gall to bring him here? For what? So you can gloat? You bitch."

Samuel fought against the cuffs and pushed against the two guards with him. They struggled to restrain him. His anger so intense they could barely make a difference. A third guard joined them holding him back. He screamed at her as Gibbs forced her in the opposite direction towards the exit.

"You bitch." Samuel screamed. "This isn't over. You'll see. This isn't over you fucking whore."

They drove back to DC in silence. She curled up in the passenger seat, her back to him, crying quietly. He tried to catch concerned glimpses of her as he drove. Eventually, she slept. He reached for his phone.

"Hey Duck. Could you meet me at my house in about an hour? No, not good. I'd just like you to check on her. Thanks."

He drove her back to his home. She sat perched on the edge of the couch, arms wrapped around herself, rocking slightly. Make-up streaked from tears.

"I made such a fool of myself. I'll have no-one else to blame when he gets out. What was I thinking? I'll never be free of him. How could I have been so stupid?"

Gibbs held her by the shoulders. "Look at me." Her head remained staring at the ground. He lifted her chin gently,

"Look at me." He held her gaze with strong blue eyes that stared directly into her soul. "He is NOT getting out. You will ALWAYS be safe. I will make sure of that." He pulled her towards him and wrapped her in his arms. It shocked him to realise just how much he meant it.

"Here, I got you these to change into - out of you're (he waved his hand vaguely up and down at her body.) you're business clothes." She stared at the jog pants and sweatshirt in his hands. She looked dubiously at him over the top of her glasses.

"What?" He shrugged. He smelled the clothes. "They're clean! A bit big maybe but I thought you'd be more comfortable." He nodded toward the bathroom. "Go and get changed. I'll make the fire and get some coffee on."

When she returned, the fire was catching nicely. There was a mug of steaming coffee on the table. She sat back down on the couch and Gibbs wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and handed her her coffee.

"Feel better?" She nodded and took a deep breath and then the tears began again. She didn't deserve someone being nice to her. He held her close until there was a knock on the door.

"I've given her a mild sedative. It should make sleep a bit easier. Rest is the order of the day. She needs a calm, quiet environment for a day or two just to clear her head - to re-group as it were. And Chamomile tea not 'Gibbs strength' coffee," said the physician, taking the now cold cup away with disdain.

"The poor girl has had enough - and who can blame her? She needs a friend now Jethro."

"I know, Duck. I know."

"Call me if you are at all concerned about anything. I'll be on my way now. Goodnight Jethro."

"Goodnight Duck, and thank you."

He drew the blinds, switched on the TV, flicked through a few channels to some old cowboy movie or other. He put an extra log on the fire and then returned to the couch. She was curled in a ball under the blanket hoping the world would go away.

"Hey, you gonna let me sit down?" Gibbs asked. She said nothing but shuffled about three inches to the left. He protested "Come on! That's not fair. Here, sit up a minute."

He managed to sit down in the corner of the couch and position the stool for his knee. Then he grabbed the pillow from the back of it and placed it on his lap. He patted it. "Come and lie down. Stretch out. That's it. Lie here and watch the movie with me."

He threw the blanket across her body. He put his leg up on the stool to give his knee a rest. They watched the movie. The only sounds came from the TV and the wood crackling in the fire place. Neither spoke. He stroked her head gently, running his fingers through her hair the way he used to with Shannon's. Eventually, her breathing slowed and got deeper. She slept. He watched the TV shushing her through bad dreams occasionally.

He woke up cold. Really cold. And his body ached from head to toe. It took a second or two to remember what was going on. The fire had burned out. The TV channel had closed down to static. She still lay the length of the couch. At some point, she must have rolled over as she lay facing him. She had one arm wrapped around his waist. Any other time he may have found it endearing, right now though, he needed to pee.

"Well that's the coffee for you, you fool." He thought ruefully. If he moved, he would wake her. He didn't want to wake her - she was finally peaceful. Perhaps if he just thought of something else ... my God, it was cold! It was no good, she was just going to have to wake up.

He shook her gently. There was no response. He shook a little harder and spoke her name. She mumbled something and wrapped her arm even tighter around his waist. "No don't do that. Not now!" He thought. He slid his way out from underneath her.

"How much of that stuff did Ducky give you?!"

When he got back to the living room she was still sound asleep and refusing to budge.

"Mild sedative, my ass, Duck," he mumbled under his breath.

So now he was stuck. He had nowhere else to sleep! There was nothing else to do but get a sleeping bag from the closet and sleep on the floor. Oh, his back was going to love him in the morning! He checked his watch ... in a whole two hours! He checked on her one last time. She was peaceful enough. He brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. She made a muffled sound and seemed agitated for a moment.

"Shh. You're safe now." He reassured her. Then he set the alarm on his watch, lay down on the floor and closed his eyes.

"Come on," Gibbs shook her again. "Come on, I'm gonna be late for work. Up an' at 'em. I gotta get you back to your hotel first."

"Why? Will I turn into a pumpkin?" She huffed sulkily at him. He laughed.

"Yeah, sure Cinders." He was getting annoyed now. "Come on will ya?"

She sat up on the couch. Damn, It was cold! She wrapped the blanket more tightly around herself and flopped back onto her side.

"Oh no you don't," Gibbs said pushing her back up. "Come on. Bathroom, coffee, then we gotta go."

She came down the stairs still half asleep. "I couldn't find a toothbrush so I used yours."

He tried to be annoyed but when he looked up at her it just didn't happen. He hid his smile by tying his shoe laces. She was still wearing the clothes he'd lent her. The arms and legs of which were rolled up several turns. Her hair was combed -ish. She had added her court shoes to the ensemble and she still carried the blanket (all rolled up in a ball), like a four year old. She caught him laughing.

"Hey, I had a bad day okay?"

"I know. I'm just smiling at the 4 year old you've turned into." He handed her a travel cup. "Here's your coffee, now go sit in the car while I lock up."

In the car a thought managed to surface through Dr. Mallard's magic potion. "Did you sleep on the floor last night?"

"For a couple of hours."

"Why didn't you just go to bed?"

"Err ... well ... I usually sleep on the couch."

"Why?"

"Because I haven't got a bed at my place right now?"

"Why?"

"I'll tell you another time," he said. "Besides, I wanted to be close to you in case you needed something."

"Aaah - that's so nice! I think that's so nice. You're really, really nice.," said the four year old and then fell asleep once again. Gibbs sighed and chuckled to himself.

"Let's get you home Cinders before the clock strikes twelve." He put the key in the ignition and put the car in Drive.

At the hotel, he escorted/carried her back to her room. He walked into the bedroom and turned down the covers. He lifted her into bed and tucked her in. He left her security blanket for her.

"Ducky's orders were to relax and rest today, okay? So have a nice lazy day in bed with the TV and Room Service. Maybe a soak in the tub later."

"With bubbles?" She asked with eyes wide. He gave a short laugh and smiled at her.

"Yes, with bubbles if you like." He kissed the top of her head. "I'll stop by after work and take you to one of my favourite places in DC."

"Oh great," she thought. "We're going to Home Depot."

"What is this?" Gibbs grumbled across his desk. "Find Gibbs-a-Date Day?" He snapped at McGee. He was the third person to mention this since he got in this morning. The younger man blushed all the way to his ears.

"No, it's not that Boss. It's just ... It's ...it's just ... " He took a deep breath and sighed it out. He had literally drawn the short straw. Abby or Bishop would have been so much better at this.

"It's just that the lady has been through a tough few weeks. You seem to like her, we REALLY like her, the Inter-agency Dinner is at the end of the week and we thought it might be nice if you took her ... to the dance I mean. Not ... you know ... Not ... you may have already."

That earned him a glare that would have melted steel. McGee sighed again, closed his eyes for a second to gather his thoughts.

"We just thought ... It would be a nice treat. You know how women like to get dressed up and all. And she can get to know us a bit more. ... and stuff." He closed his eyes and shook his head in exasperation. "Bishop would have been far better at this."

They had all met at the bar after work the previous evening to compare notes. She and Gibbs really did seem to get on. He was clearly very concerned about her. Abby thought they looked sweet together. Tony was convinced the bounce was back in Gibbs' step and that could only mean one thing! Bishop disagreed - he was being a perfect gentleman - opening doors for her; standing when she entered the room; all that old fashioned chivalrous stuff younger men never learned ...

"And has anyone else noticed how he doesn't take his eyes off her? It's so sweet." She added.

"I told you," Abby squeaked.

"D'you think we'll be getting a new Mom?" DiNozzo asked.

"Well we might if we give him a little nudge," McGee suggested. "He's a lot easier to live with when there's a new Mom on the scene ... at least to begin with ... Well, that is until he screws it up in some way."

"What about getting him to invite her to the dinner/danceon Friday?" Suggested Bishop.

"I don't know," said DiNozzo, "Can he dance?"

"I've seen him dance," Ducky chipped in. "Usually at weddings - mostly his own. As long as it's nothing too fast, he can get around the floor proficiently enough. Mother sent me for ballroom dancing lessons when I was 11. I had to go with my cousin Deidre. She was a good 18 inches taller than me at the time. I had to lead by looking under her armpit. Used to come home with a terrible crick in my neck. ..."

"So whose going to talk to him about it?" Said DiNozzo. They all looked straight at him.

"Oh no, no, no. I'm not giving the Boss Man dating tips. Not a chance. Like he'd listen to me anyway. Shouldn't it be a girl? You're far better at this stuff. Abby, and he won't hit you. Or maybe Ducky? Duck Man, you've known him for like, forever ..."

"What? A man of my age and delicate disposition?" Argued Ducky. "My poor heart wouldn't stand the strain, I fear."

"That is so not true, Dr. Mallard." Palmer pointed out. "You're fitter now than twenty years ago. You said so yourself."

"That may be so," the good doctor shot back. "But I'm still not doing it."

"Why don't we draw straws?" Someone had suggested.

"I'm going to get whoever said that and wipe every hard drive they've ever owned," thought McGee. He was jolted out of his misery as Gibbs snapped irritably,

"All right, all right. I'll ask her. I was thinking about it anyway. Now, can we please get some work done around here?!"

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Abby dancing in the elevator.