+++++
Why? She wanted to know why? What was he supposed to say? He knew what he wanted to say, but he couldn't say that. He couldn't tell her he was sitting here because his heart wouldn't let him leave. He couldn't tell her that he didn't want to be anywhere else but with her. But she wanted an answer.
"It was only a little while ago and I wanted to make sure you didn't have any nightmares." There, that was believable and half-true.
"Uh-huh." She didn't believe him, but she wasn't going to demand an answer. She was glad he was there; it made her feel that much safer.
"What time is it?" Kate asked, sitting up and throwing her legs over the side of the bed.
He glanced at his watch and said, "11:46."
"Why aren't you sleeping?"
"Not tired. Where you going?" He asked, standing up when she moved towards the door.
She turned around to look at him and said, "Bathroom. Can I go alone or are you thinking he'd hiding in the shower?"
He smiled and motioned for her to go. He took this time to walk through the house and make sure all the windows and doors were closed and locked. He decided he'd leave the basement door unlocked, but made sure all the other doors in the basement were tightly locked. He had a feeling he wouldn't be sleeping tonight and wanted to do something other than stare at Kate all night; something...productive.
"What are you doing?" He voice drifted down the stairs to him.
He stood up from his crouched position by the basement's lower door where he'd just finished locking up. He turned just in time to see her descending the stairs. She'd put on a sheer white robe and as she walked it billowed around her. Again, Gibbs was reminded of an angel. He realized she was waiting for an answer when she looked at him expectantly.
"Uh, I was just locking up."
Kate nodded and walked over to the boat, running her hand along the smooth surface of the planks. "Is this your first?"
It took him a minute to realize she was talking about the boat. "No. I built my first boat with my grandfather and father when I was fourteen. They taught me what to do and how to do it. When my grandfather died my dad and I built one in honor of him. Then, when he died I built another one by myself and named it after him. Neither one of them get used. They both sit in my sister's backyard."
Kate took in what he said in shock. He'd never said that much about himself or his past in the months she'd known him. She was quiet for a while, letting it all sink in, before asking, "So who's this one for?"
Gibbs thought for a moment then answered, "Myself, I think."
She smiled, "You think?"
He smiled back, "Yeah. I started it during my third marriage. It's what put the final mail in the coffin. She accused me of spending too much time on building this instead of with her. It was true and I didn't argue when she filed for divorce. Now I work on it when I need to think."
"About what?" She asked when it was obvious he wasn't going to elaborate.
"About whatever. I come down here when a case is bothering me. Or when I can't figure out something. It was become more a stress-release device than anything else."
Kate nodded her understanding. "I know what you mean. When I was sixteen my best friend was killed in a car accident. She'd just gotten her license and was on her way home from our football team's championship game. We won. It happened on one of the back roads. The other driver was drunk and driving on the wrong side of the road without his lights on. Shelley didn't see him and went head-on into the front of his car."
Gibbs didn't think he knew anyone who had gone through as much tragedy and strife as the woman who stood in front of him. "I'm sorry."
But she went on as if she hadn't even heard him. "That's not even the worst part. I was supposed to go home with her that night. It was our weekly girl's night. We were going to go to the movies and dinner after the game. But Brad finally asked me out at the game and I told her that he was going to take me to "The Spot" then take me home. I had thought she'd be happy for me, but she wasn't. You see, she was supposed to be moving away two weeks later and this was our last chance for a girl's night. She got mad, which in turn made me mad. Long story short: our last words to each other weren't exactly friendly. I blamed myself because I wasn't there to tell her that the car was coming. I told myself if I hadn't gone with Brad..." She trailed off and sat down on the couch.
He sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him. "It wasn't your fault, Kate. You could've been hurt or killed if you were in that car, too."
She looked up at him with a humorless smile and said, "I know that now. But when you're sixteen and you lose your best friend you feel responsible somehow. I started drawing as a way to channel everything I was feeling. My parents started to worry when I wouldn't come out of my room for days at a time. I eventually got over it enough to get back to normal, well as normal as I could anyway. My mom tried to talk to me about it; every time she did I closed myself off. I've had trouble opening up to people ever since." She got quiet and Gibbs could tell she was thinking, "Except with you. I don't seem to have trouble opening up with you."
"I know what you mean."
Why? She wanted to know why? What was he supposed to say? He knew what he wanted to say, but he couldn't say that. He couldn't tell her he was sitting here because his heart wouldn't let him leave. He couldn't tell her that he didn't want to be anywhere else but with her. But she wanted an answer.
"It was only a little while ago and I wanted to make sure you didn't have any nightmares." There, that was believable and half-true.
"Uh-huh." She didn't believe him, but she wasn't going to demand an answer. She was glad he was there; it made her feel that much safer.
"What time is it?" Kate asked, sitting up and throwing her legs over the side of the bed.
He glanced at his watch and said, "11:46."
"Why aren't you sleeping?"
"Not tired. Where you going?" He asked, standing up when she moved towards the door.
She turned around to look at him and said, "Bathroom. Can I go alone or are you thinking he'd hiding in the shower?"
He smiled and motioned for her to go. He took this time to walk through the house and make sure all the windows and doors were closed and locked. He decided he'd leave the basement door unlocked, but made sure all the other doors in the basement were tightly locked. He had a feeling he wouldn't be sleeping tonight and wanted to do something other than stare at Kate all night; something...productive.
"What are you doing?" He voice drifted down the stairs to him.
He stood up from his crouched position by the basement's lower door where he'd just finished locking up. He turned just in time to see her descending the stairs. She'd put on a sheer white robe and as she walked it billowed around her. Again, Gibbs was reminded of an angel. He realized she was waiting for an answer when she looked at him expectantly.
"Uh, I was just locking up."
Kate nodded and walked over to the boat, running her hand along the smooth surface of the planks. "Is this your first?"
It took him a minute to realize she was talking about the boat. "No. I built my first boat with my grandfather and father when I was fourteen. They taught me what to do and how to do it. When my grandfather died my dad and I built one in honor of him. Then, when he died I built another one by myself and named it after him. Neither one of them get used. They both sit in my sister's backyard."
Kate took in what he said in shock. He'd never said that much about himself or his past in the months she'd known him. She was quiet for a while, letting it all sink in, before asking, "So who's this one for?"
Gibbs thought for a moment then answered, "Myself, I think."
She smiled, "You think?"
He smiled back, "Yeah. I started it during my third marriage. It's what put the final mail in the coffin. She accused me of spending too much time on building this instead of with her. It was true and I didn't argue when she filed for divorce. Now I work on it when I need to think."
"About what?" She asked when it was obvious he wasn't going to elaborate.
"About whatever. I come down here when a case is bothering me. Or when I can't figure out something. It was become more a stress-release device than anything else."
Kate nodded her understanding. "I know what you mean. When I was sixteen my best friend was killed in a car accident. She'd just gotten her license and was on her way home from our football team's championship game. We won. It happened on one of the back roads. The other driver was drunk and driving on the wrong side of the road without his lights on. Shelley didn't see him and went head-on into the front of his car."
Gibbs didn't think he knew anyone who had gone through as much tragedy and strife as the woman who stood in front of him. "I'm sorry."
But she went on as if she hadn't even heard him. "That's not even the worst part. I was supposed to go home with her that night. It was our weekly girl's night. We were going to go to the movies and dinner after the game. But Brad finally asked me out at the game and I told her that he was going to take me to "The Spot" then take me home. I had thought she'd be happy for me, but she wasn't. You see, she was supposed to be moving away two weeks later and this was our last chance for a girl's night. She got mad, which in turn made me mad. Long story short: our last words to each other weren't exactly friendly. I blamed myself because I wasn't there to tell her that the car was coming. I told myself if I hadn't gone with Brad..." She trailed off and sat down on the couch.
He sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him. "It wasn't your fault, Kate. You could've been hurt or killed if you were in that car, too."
She looked up at him with a humorless smile and said, "I know that now. But when you're sixteen and you lose your best friend you feel responsible somehow. I started drawing as a way to channel everything I was feeling. My parents started to worry when I wouldn't come out of my room for days at a time. I eventually got over it enough to get back to normal, well as normal as I could anyway. My mom tried to talk to me about it; every time she did I closed myself off. I've had trouble opening up to people ever since." She got quiet and Gibbs could tell she was thinking, "Except with you. I don't seem to have trouble opening up with you."
"I know what you mean."