Chapter Seventeen - Lost and Found
He pulled the car onto the drive."Home at last," he said.
She looked at the house. She drank it all in like a fine wine. Every brick, every pane of glass, every garden plant. God, how she'd missed it. She turned to him."They're all waiting in there aren't they?"
He stared at her for a moment. A look of defeat slowly spread across his face. "I'm supposed to say no," he admitted. "Abby was so excited about you coming home ... I kinda got caught up in it all. Will you be okay?"
"For a while, I guess. I really just wanted to sit by the fire and read a book with you, though."
"We can do that tomorrow night, I promise."
He helped her out of the car and took her arm as they made their way to the front door. His unlocked it. She made to go through.
"No, wait, wait wait." He said urgently. "I forgot something."
"What?"
"There's still one thing I haven't done yet!" He exclaimed. With a flourish he bent and scooped her off her feet. "I'm supposed to carry you over the threshold, remember?"
He walked through the door. The lights clicked on.
"Surprise!!" Yelled everyone.Smiling and laughing at her 'surprise' he stood her on her feet. A great many hugs and kisses ensued.
@
She managed a couple of hours but then he had to ask everyone to leave. All was suddenly quiet in the house. It was just what she wanted. Laying on the couch in comfy pyjamas and a blanket with her head on his lap, she couldn't have been happier. This was what life was all about - Not riches and the accumulation of stuff. The love and simple touch of another human being - She had dreamed about being home for months.
Gibbs ran his fingers through her hair gently as he watched the TV. She dozed in and out of the movie. Neither spoke. Neither had to. It got late. The movie ended. "Will you come to bed with me, Mrs. Gibbs?" He asked softly.
@
She hovered by the side of the bed unsure how to approach the subject. She wrung her hands anxiously.
He lay on the bed and held out his hand. "It's okay. I understand. It's okay. I will never, ever pressure you. You tell me when."
She sighed in relief and climbed into bed next to him. They held each other close. Clinging to one another in desperation. It had been such a very long time. He pressed his face into her hair, closed his eyes and breathed deeply. How he'd missed this. Just the smell of her, the feel of her against him. His arms wrapped prospectively around her. He could stay like this forever. Eventually, he broke the spell.
"Can I kiss you?" He asked tentatively.
"Of course!" She smiled weakly at him. "Don't be silly." She chastised.
He leaned over her and gently touched his lips to hers. They felt soft and sweet beneath his. He had missed this most of all. He kissed her again just as softly. She responded in kind. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his more firmly. Tears sprung to her eyes - of joy, relief, sorrow. God, his mouth felt so good
She opened her mouth to allow his tongue free reign. He took the invitation in an instant. He filled her mouth kissing her passionately. He kissed her neck, her face, her hair. He rolled his body on top of hers ... And she froze immediately. Her body shook involuntarily.
He jumped back from her, kneeling up on the bed. Her fear of him a complete surprise to both of them. He chided himself for not learning more. He hadn't been prepared for this. He should have been. It broke his heart. She sat up on the side of the bed, looking down at the floor.
"I can't. I'm sorry, I just can't." She began to cry softly.
"No, it's my fault - I got carried away in the moment. Just let me hold you for a while. Will that be okay?"
She nodded, staring at the bed. No eye contact again he noted. After more coaxing she lay back down in a foetal position. Her knees to her chest. He curled his body around her, an arm around her waist. He kissed her neck and stroked her hair while all the time whispering reassurances to her. Very gradually, her body relaxed and uncurled.
Eventually, they spooned together in their usual manner but he could still feel the tension about her. He pretended to sleep and felt her move just an inch or two further away from him. It brought an ache to his heart. The woman she once was was gone. He had to mourn, move on and learn to love the new one she had become.
@
Grace was surprised when her assistant told her Gibbs was on Line Two. An alarm bell rang ever so slightly.
"Hey Grace it's Jethro. Is it okay to talk?"
"Sure. What's up Popeye?
"Can I come and talk to you some time soon?"
"Of course." There was that alarm bell again. "How about this afternoon, say around two thirty?
Where d'you wanna meet? The diner?"
"What about at your office?"
Now she really was worried. He had NEVER come to her office.
"Of course you can. Why the sudden urge to see my office? What if someone sees you coming in here? Don't you have a reputation for being a hard-ass to uphold?"
"I don't care any more and there are some things you can't discuss in a diner."
"Oh, okay. I'll see you then. Bring coffee."
She hung up - A five alarm klaxon screaming in her head.
--
"So, what d'ya think?" asked Grace.
"About what?" Replied Gibbs distractedly.
"My new office? It's the first time you've seen it."
He looked around briefly. "It's okay."
"Thanks. Your enthusiasm is underwhelming."
"Well, what do you want me so say?"
"Why you're here would be a good start. You've been staring at your shoelaces for the last ten minutes. You called me remember? This is on the clock." She sighed.
He did the whole lips-opening-and-closing-with-no-words-coming-out thing for a second or two and then looked away. The pot plant on the coffee table next to him became the greatest feat of horticultural endeavour known to man. He studied it intently avoiding her gaze.
"Do I have to guess?" Grace suggested. "You know I'm not supposed to guess. You're supposed to tell me ... " More horticultural interest and still no words. She sighed. THIS IS A TALKING THERAPY she wanted to scream. Sometimes this whole schtick of his could get very tiresome.
"Okay, here goes ... " She took a deep breath and dived straight in. "How are things at home, Jethro?"
He looked up at her as if he'd just been slapped in the face. "Bingo," she thought. She rarely used his name so it had a real impact when she did.
"So," she prompted. "Home?"
He looked uncomfortable. He was clearly wishing he hadn't made the appointment.
"Well? Come on, I can tell you want to. Just like we practiced. Big breath and ..." She held out her hands in encouragement. "You can do it, Popeye, I know you can ... "
He took a deep breath, let it out slowly and began, "People ask me all the time how she is and how we are both doing. And we both say 'fine' and 'it's great to get back to normal', stuff like that ..."
"But it's not fine is it?"
He looked down at his hands, picked at a fingernail, laced his fingers together, readjusted his sitting position, cleared his throat. Then looked up very briefly and with a voice barely above a whisper answered, "No, it's not fine and it's anything but normal."
"Who can say what 'normal' is anyway?" Grace argued.
"Okay, not 'normal' then. It's not like it was before. Not remotely."
"Well she's been through a terrible experience. You gotta expect it to take time ... You just gotta be patient."
He pointed an accusing finger at her. "And everybody is telling me to be patient. I know I have to be patient. But sometimes she looks at me as if she doesn't even know who I am. Like I'm a total stranger."
"Well maybe she's in the middle of a flashback when that happens? Have you asked her about it?"
He gave her 'the look' and then returned to the offending fingernail.
"Oh, silly me, I forgot who I was talking to for a moment there." Grace threw up her hands in exasperation. "I don't believe you sometimes! You ask people questions for a living! Hello?!"
"Yeah, but I can't ask her like that. Besides, 'the stare' doesn't work on her - she sees right through it."
"And you can't adapt?!" Grace suggested sarcastically.
He chose to ignore her last point and continued on the course he'd planned on his drive in. "We put on a good show for anyone who comes over. They would never suspect. They expect her to be a bit quiet, you know. They don't ask, except Ducky of course - He suggested I talk to you. But when we're alone, it's like I'm sharing with a room mate. We talk about nothing of any consequence. We sit in uncomfortable silences. We're polite to each other ..."
There was a pause. He looked away into the distance. "And I can see ... I can see she is so totally alone but she won't let me anywhere near her."
--
"And how are things in the bedroom?" Grace ventured.
He glared at her. "Why does everything come down to sex with you people?"
"Hey, you mentioned it first. You said 'she won't let me anywhere near her'. I just followed that thought."
"We tried a couple of times when she first got home. But she was too ... And I ..." He continued to look around the room, and at the pot plant and anywhere except Grace..
She nodded towards his crotch. "You have trouble keeping the trooper to attention there, Popeye?"
"I am not discussing that with you." He said fiercely, glaring at her
"I'll take that as a 'yes' then," she said, answering her own question.
"... I was just so worried I would hurt her." He mumbled.
"That's a damned lie." Grace replied as straightforward as ever. He looked up at her in shock that she should even suggest such a thing. She corrected herself, "Okay, it's only a partial lie. I'm absolutely positive that the main part of you is very concerned not to hurt her."
She leaned forward in her chair to make her point. "But a very small part of you, somewhere darker, more primeval, can't get over the fact that she was taken by another man against her will yes, but also ... against yours. And in that very deep, dark place inside of you, you blame her for it."
Gibbs jumped up from his chair, clearly very agitated. He paced the office, hands to his head. She wondered if she should have insisted he lock his gun away "No, no. That's not it. That's not it at all. You don't understand."
"So explain it to me." Grace pushed.
"I don't blame her..." He stared straight at her - distress clearly visible in his eyes.
"I blame me. I blame me." He yelled. "All of this is my fault. If I hadn't lied to her, she would never have left and they would never have found her. If I had told her the truth from the get-go, none of this would have happened."
He sat back down exhausted his head in his hands. He felt utterly wretched. He looked it too, Grace thought. She wished life would just give him a break sometimes.
"Look," she countered, "You have no way of knowing whether her leaving led to her capture. From what you've told me before, these guys were pretty determined. It sounds like it would have happened regardless. If not the Excelsior, then at your house or at her office or some place else."
"You cannot spend the rest of your life trying to guess what COULD have happened. You only have what DID happen and how that is going to affect the pair of you going forward. While you are wrapped up so completely in what could have/should have happened, you cannot help her and you cannot help yourself.
"And yes, it hurts you that she was taken by other men. That's the Neanderthal in you. You can't help that. But it's not her fault and it's not your fault. It's THEIR fault and they're dead and gone. They can not hurt either of you any more."
She sat quietly for a short while to let it all sink in. He certainly had plenty to think about on his drive home, that was for sure. He sat with his head still in his hands. Eventually, he spoke so softly it was a strain to hear him.
"I miss her, Grace. We live in the same house and we are worlds apart and I miss her so much. I miss the way she makes me laugh. I miss the way she puts up with my cooking. I miss her singing to the radio. I miss her kissing me and I miss holding her hand. It has very little to do with the bedroom. I miss my friend, I miss my wife."
She leaned over and patted his knee. "It'll come back. Maybe a little different, but it will come back. You just have to give her time. And ..."
"Be patient." He smiled to himself. "Yeah, I know Doc."
--
It seemed a good place to stop. She deliberately broke the therapeutic bond between them for this session. "You okay Popeye? D'you need a moment? Would you like some water?" She asked.
"Yeah. Water would be good."
As she left the office, he took the opportunity to pinch the bridge of his nose and ease the tension that seemed to live permanently there these days. He wiped away the tears he had tried (and obviously failed) to hide.
Grace came back in with a bottle of spring water he felt obliged to swig. Who were either of them kidding?! He took a deep breath and looked at his watch. He squared his shoulders into the more familiar 'Gibbs' stance. "Gotta go," he said.
"Okay." She replied. "I'll bill you."
He squeezed her hand and headed towards the door. He stopped briefly in his tracks.
--
"Back in the real world, we were wondering if you would like to come over for dinner one night next week? As our friend - not our therapist."
"That depends. Who's cooking?" Grace asked.
He laughed gently and grinned at her. "She is."
"In that case, I'd be delighted. I'll bring dessert. Just let me know which day and I'll make sure I'm free."
He nodded and left the office, closing the door behind him. She slumped into her chair utterly drained. She buzzed her assistant and cancelled her 4:30 appointment.
@
Grace knocked on the front door. Not so long ago it would have been open. It was mid afternoon. She knew Gibbs was at work. It was the lady of the house she had come to see. She smiled as she answered the door.
"It's good to see ya!" Grace said as she crossed the threshold. "You healing all right? Doctors treating you okay?"
"Yeah. It's all going to plan I think."
"Good ... That's good." There was an awkward silence.
Grace held up the bag she'd been carrying. "I brought tiramisu and a couple bottles of chardonnay. Both need to be chilled." She walked over to the refrigerator. "Woah, there's real food in here! Fruit and everything!"
"Well I'm home a lot these days - means I can cook and shop. And people bring us stuff."
"Well I won't be making this a habit," said Grace. "This is the only dessert I can make! Hey, just look at us, all domestic and shit!"
"Yeah! Who'd have thought it?!"
Another awkward silence ...
--
"You missing work Hon? You used to be such a very busy lady." Grace asked.
"Part of me does. And I'm not planning on staying at home permanently. But I don't think work's the right place for me at the moment - too close. And anyway, I'm still keeping busy. I read, I work in the garden. I sew - I haven't done that for years. Jethro put up a work table for me in Kelly's room."
"Kelly's Room - that was a subject for another day," Grace thought. "So what do you make?" She asked.
"Oh all sorts of things. Whatever takes my fancy. I like being creative. It's very therapeutic."
"Kinda like Popeye and his boats?"
"Yeah, but a lot easier to get out of the house!" They both laughed. The walls beginning to break down between them.
--
"Say, what d'ya say we crack open one of those bottles now?" Suggested Grace.
"That sounds good to me," she agreed. She poured two healthy glasses of wine and handed one to Grace. Then she sat on the couch and sighed deeply. She felt relaxed for once.
"So how's it really going?" Grace asked, sitting next to her.
"Straight to the point as usual, Grace?"
"Well I can dance the dance if you want me to? We both know the routine. I thought I'd save us some time. And then we can get on with a nice dinner as friends."
"How's it really going? ... I feel like I'm not really here. I mean, I go through the motions everyday. Get up. Get dressed. Do stuff. Go to bed and repeat. But I feel like I'm watching everything from behind my own eyes. And I know it's a stage, and I know it will improve in time. I guess I'm just a bit impatient."
"And how're things with Popeye?" Grace ventured.
"Why? What has he said?"
"Nothing - When does he ever? But if he had, I couldn't tell you. And anyway, I'm asking you?"
"How are things?" She thought for a moment. How to put it kindly?
"Smothering. It's like living with a parent. He watches me constantly. He treats me like a child. He panics if I lock the bathroom door. He won't let me climb a ladder or drive the car or carry anything. It's like I'm going to shatter into a million pieces at any minute if I so much as sneeze. It's a relief when he works late or finally goes down to the basement." She sighed deeply. "... I miss the old Jethro. The fun Jethro."
"Popeye is fun?" Said Grace in disbelief. She laughed at Grace's reaction.
"Yes he is and I miss him. This new one is so overbearing, so cloying."
"He's just being protective. He nearly lost you. Have you tried talking to him about it?" They looked at each other. Grace waved a hand dismissively at her. "Okay, okay, forget I asked that. I should've known better."
"You know, we don't even kiss any more." she confided. "But it's not him, it's me. I can't bring myself to kiss him any more. God, I think I miss that most of all. He is so good at it."
"He is? ..." Grace asked in astonishment. "Wait a minute - Is this the same man we're talking about? Tall, brooding, awful haircut?"
She smiled again. There was so much about Gibbs that nobody knew. "Yes, it's the same man."
"Well, If he's so great and so fun and all, why won't you kiss him? "
She took a sip of her wine and stopped to think of the best way to explain. Finally, she came to a conclusion.
"Because I'm afraid he'll see that I'm a fraud - just pretending to be alive. I'm afraid he will reject me now that I'm ... " Again, she searched for the right word. The only one that came to mind was "tainted."
Grace paused for a moment. This was not an uncommon response from victims. Finally, she challenged, "Do you honestly think that or is that what you're hoping for?"
"What are you saying?"
"Well if he rejects you and your relationship dies, you can blame yourself and keep yourself isolated and safe for the rest of your days. And then it will all go away and you don't have to think about it ever again. Nice and safe ... and alone. No risk of ever being hurt again."
"Would that be such a bad thing for either of us? I can't bear him looking at me sometimes. He looks at me with such pity or sometimes with shame - that's the worst. I see it in his eyes."
"Or maybe, just maybe he looks at you with concern and with fear because he sees all this going on inside you and doesn't know what to do to help. And being so bad with his own feelings, he turns away because that's the only way he knows." She paused to let the message sink in. "... just something to think about for a while."
Grace stood to break them back into the real world - That was enough for one day. She reached out a hand to her friend. "Shall we get this dinner finished?"
@
Dinner was good. Conversation, if a little neutral, flowed. Grace looked at the two people sitting on the couch in front of her. They were clearly just going through the motions. Let's face it, they had had months to practice play acting "the happy couple". She watched them trying so hard when she knew, she knew they were both dying inside. Neither one able, for whatever reason, to reach out to the other.
And she'd had enough of it! It was time to do some thing about it or her name wasn't Grace Cecile Irma Confelone!
"Right, you two. Listen up. You're my friends as well as my clients and I can't stand seeing the two of you like this, I just can't. I'm not a couples therapist but I still read. I know from both of you that you are having intimacy issues at the moment, so I'm going to talk you through an exercise I want you to try."
They looked at each other accusingly.
"Did you tell her ...?"
"No, but you must have said something about ..."
"Will you just be quiet the pair of you. You both told me and you both know that you both told me. Now, glasses down please."
They looked at each other. They looked at Grace. She was very serious and she wasn't taking 'no' for an answer. They stared at her and sighed simultaneously. They both put their drinks down with a 'whatever-this-is-it-isn't-going-to-work' expression on their faces.
"Well that was better than an outright 'no'," thought Grace hopefully.. "Good." She said patiently. "Right ... Relax. None of this is going to be difficult. It will be easy - even for you, Popeye." She reassured them. "So, ready? Let's do this!" She said trying to muster up enough enthusiasm for the three of them.
@
"Now, first I want you to sit round on the couch so you are facing each other and close enough that you can touch each other comfortably."
They sat exactly where they were and kept looking at her. "Oh for Pete's sake!" Grace put down her own glass and waved her arms as if herding imaginary geese. "Come on, come on." She commanded in frustration.
Reluctantly, the couple eventually shuffled round to comply. She thought they were further apart than they would have been six months ago, but then, six months ago they wouldn't have needed this intervention."Now, close your eyes."
"I feel ridiculous," complained Gibbs
"Quiet, Popeye. You're doing this. In the book they have you blindfolded but that's just bordering on kinky. Now, close your eyes ... both of you. You're at home. You're in a safe environment. And you trust me, don't you?"
There was more grumbling about quack ideas and the real world.
"Enough already!" Grace exclaimed. "At least give it a try. Come on, what have you got to lose? If nothing else, it will shut me up about it."
There was quiet, finally. "Perhaps, a little more wine next time," she thought. "Okay? Good. Now, with eyes closed I want you to reach out and hold each other's right hand."
She was relieved when their hands met without needing to see where the other was. That was a positive sign. "And now, without opening your eyes, I want you to tell me about the hand that you're holding. Who's going to go first?"
There was total silence. Both sat stock still, lips pressed tightly together. Grace looked heavenward for inspiration. This exercise was supposed to be fun and enjoyable. Whoever wrote it had clearly never met these two! "Popeye," she yelled. He jumped. "You're volunteered. Now tell me about the hand you are holding."
Gibbs mumbled something.
"What? I didn't hear that." Grace felt like a drill sergeant or a kindergarten teacher, she hadn't decided which yet.
He tried again. "It's a small hand."
"Yes," Grace smiled. "Go on."
"And it's skin is soft and smooth."
"Good, keep going."
"It smells of lavender soap. Some of the nails are broken. And there's a band aid on the index finger." He caressed her hand with both of his now and kissed her finger tips before finishing with, "There are wedding rings on the third finger."
"That was great, Popeye. See? That wasn't so bad was it? ... Okay Olive, your turn."
With a sigh of her own she began, "This hand is much larger than mine. The skin is rougher. The fingers are long and the knuckles are more prominent. There are calluses on it. The nails are very short. And there's a scar or scratch or something on the palm that I think is fairly new."
"Yeah, a chisel slipped. Went straight in. Clean cut though - no big deal." He explained.
She coo-ed at him and rubbed his palm, kissing it gently. "Why didn't you come and get me?"
"It was late. Didn't want to disturb you." He mumbled self consciously
"Okay, that was sweet. They're not a total loss," Grace thought. She smiled.
"Hey, none of that. Stick with the program here. Now, still with eyes closed. I want you to put down the hand and reach for the other's face." There was less grumbling she noted - another good sign ... or they were just bored - it was always hard to tell with this pair. "Now, tell me about the face that you hold. Olive, you go first this time - it's only fair."
She didn't need to open her eyes to see his face. The image in her mind had helped keep her alive. She knew every line, every curve, every blemish - the scar below his right eye, the two moles on his jawline. Her hand wandered lightly over them.
"This is a strong face that needs a shave!" They both laughed. "It is an older face. There are lines around the eyes and mouth. The mouth is set in a straight line. It doesn't smile much these days."
He lowered his head. She raised it again gently and ran her hand through his hair. "The hair is shorter at the sides than on top. It smells of soap and sawdust and coffee. The eyes are the most piercing blue I have ever seen. They are truly stunning. They can see right into your soul."
Grace was impressed. "Not bad. Not bad at all, Olive. Especially that last part. It's amazing what you can see with closed eyes. But good, well done." She turned to Gibbs. "Okay now you Popeye, it's your turn."
"I really don't see what this is supposed to ..." Gibbs began.
"Come on, she played her part now stop your whining and get on with it - it's only fair." Grace discovered that he could even give her 'the look' with his eyes closed.
"Okay, okay. I heard you!" He protested. He leaned over and touched her face. It felt like lightening had struck her. He ran his hand across it gently.
"This face is soft and smooth. There are just a few lines and they are small. There are some recent scars that are healing well. The hair is short too but getting longer. The ears are round. The lobes have little flower shaped studs in them. The eyes are wide and expressive and the richest mahogany brown and ... " His voice caught. " ... and they are crying."
He wiped the tear away with his thumb. She turned her cheek into his hand. They sat in silence for a moment. They didn't need to speak to each other - there was plenty of communication going on between them.
--
"Okay," said Grace, deliberately breaking the moment. "This is the final part of the exercise, then you can relax and I can go home knowing I tried my best. I need you to scooch forward for this part. You need to be much closer ... That's it. Now there's NO touching allowed in this part. Absolutely none. Got that?" They both nodded.
"Okay, so still with eyes closed, l want you to lean in to one another until you think you are about six inches or so apart. That's it. Now, tell me what you feel."
She spoke without hesitation. "I can feel the heat of his body. I can feel his breath on my face. I can hear his breathing. It is quite steady." She smiled. "I can smell what we had for dinner and a hint of bourbon."
"I only had the one," he interrupted, defensively
"Hey, sshh," Grace chided. "Carry on, Olive."
"I can hear his heart beat. It's beating fast. And he is closer than six inches because I can feel the static between us."
He leaned all the way forward and kissed her tentatively on the mouth. She was startled for a moment. He took her face in his hands and kissed her more decisively, eventually sliding the rest of the way across, to wrap his arms around her as she responded to him.
"Wow, he really is a good kisser," thought Grace in surprise as she stood and picked up her purse.
"Time for me to leave." She said and headed for the door. She stopped and doubled back for a second. They were already laying together on the couch. He broke contact long enough to shout,
"Goodbye Grace."
"Yeah," she said awkwardly. "I'll come back for that dish another time."
--
She left quickly. She smiled as she climbed into her car. "Mission accomplished," she said to herself. "Or should that be missionary?!" She laughed at her own joke and pulled the car away from the house.