Sloane pulls into his driveway with a smile. She is still happy after finding that painting in her office just a little while earlier. On Christmas, she felt that they were heading somewhere good. She had fallen asleep next to him on the couch watching an old western, and when they woke, they spent the day together. They even made dinner together for the team. They almost kissed, at least that's what she thought of the moment as, but nothing greater happened. But she was sure they were on the road to something more, something real, and then Gibbs all but shut down.

Still, she hoped. The painting gives her more hope, and yet it bothers her too.

Now, she sits in his driveway. She hadn't called ahead. She wasn't planning on coming here when she left the office earlier tonight. She isn't entirely sure why she came. Well, she knows what she keeps telling herself, but she doesn't even believe it.

She gets out of her car with the formulating plan of what she's going to say. Hopefully, he wouldn't misunderstand. Maybe he'll understand more than she wants him to. She sighs as she meets his eyes through the living room window. She smiles and waves as he stands.

He meets her at the door. Once he opens it, he says with some humor in his voice and maybe some worry, "Jack?"

She rushes past him at the door before he can move to let her in. "I just wanted to thank you for the gift. I love it," she says as she looks around and sees two steaks in the fireplace and two beers on the table. "You have company. I'm sorry to interrupt."

He shakes his head, and when Jack walks to the door with the intention of leaving and praying he won't ever mention this, he stops her with a hand grabbing her arm. She looks to him starkly, having been surprised by the contact, and he massages her arm softly. "Talk to me," he says directly.

"Why don't you talk to me? Huh? Clearly, you aren't too lacking of self-awareness to not know what I meant, so why don't you talk…" She releases an exasperated breath after losing enthusiasm at the end of her statement. She pulls her arm from his hand and falls back onto his couch. He sits on the his coffee table, bending his head and trying to look in her eyes. She holds her head in her hands and won't meet his eyes.

After several long moments pass in silence, aside from the crackles of the fireplace, Jack speaks in a gravelly, harsh voice, "I guess that's a no." She straightens and runs her hand through her hair. "Isn't that a rule? Rule 3: Never be unreachable?" He just looks at her confused. "You may answer the phone when someone calls, but there is nothing more inaccessible than you. The impenetrable Special Agent Gibbs. Bend lines don't break them, seek forgiveness not permission, no coincidences. But what about rule 5: don't waste good, and 8: never take anything for granted? No, that doesn't matter. Just stay closed off. I'm done. I can't handle the elephant in the room anymore." She stands and storms towards the door.

She reaches the door frame separating the living room and the foyer, and she turns back. He still sits on the edge of the table, but now his head is in his hands. She can't see his face. She is on the verge of tears, and her voice shows it. Still, her voice is loud when she says, "You shouldn't be closed off to the people you love. The people…" She breaths deeply and continues, "The people that love you. But you are. You're unreachable, Gibbs. You waste good. We would be so good. And, God knows, you take me for granted. But what does it matter when you have rule 12? The damn be-all to end-all! And I allowed myself to hope it was 51. You're sure as hell wrong." Her voice cracks with her last word. She pulls back her shoulders and lifts her head. She wants to be strong, but the tears run down her face now. She won't wipe them away. He needs to know that he's broken her heart, but he still won't look at her.

She swallows as much of the lump in her throat as she can, so when she speaks, her voice is clear. "I am going home. Do not contact me. I will be at work tomorrow. If I'm needed, send one of the kids. I do not wish to see you. Goodnight, Gibbs." She pushes her hair behind her ears and turns on her heels.

She grabs hold of the doorknob and is pulling the door open when she stops suddenly when his voice calls loudly, "Jack!" She can hear his footsteps as he runs over to her, but she doesn't turn to face him. He places his hand on her shoulder. "Oh, Jack, please," he says in the smallest voice she has ever heard from him. He moves to lean against the wall facing her as best as he can while she still stares forward at the door left ajar. His hand drifts to her back with his fingers wrapping around her waist. "Jack…" he all but whimpers. "Look at me," his voice catches in his throat, and Jack hears it. She closes the door and turns her eyes to him though she keeps her body turned to the door and her hand on the doorknob.

"What?" she says quietly. She had hoped to sound unfeeling, and the exact opposite occurred.

Gibbs slides the hand that is not on her waist to her face. He cups her cheek, and she leans into his hand as the posture she had attained before fades in a moment. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"But rule 6?" she asks in a soft tone.

"Is stupid," he says and wipes tears from her cheeks as she turns to face him entirely.

"Agreed," Jack says with the beginning of a grin, and Gibbs laughs. "And you know that most of the rest of your rules are just investigative protocol or common sense." He smiles, and the light from the fire makes his eyes glisten. She sees the stain of tears on his cheek. She touches each spot with her thumb. She bites her bottom lip as she leans into him. She notices Gibbs' breathing hitch as he stars at her lips. She bypasses his lips though. She kisses along the spots her thumb had touched. Between each kiss, she says, "So… I heard… you… burned… rule 10… any chance… 12… is… next."

She pulls away and looks at him with love in her puppy eyes and fear and hopefulness mixing in her heart. He smiles mischievously as his arms wrap around her waist. "Gibbs?" she asks.

He laughs, and she looks at him with wide eyes of frustration. "Oh, Jack. It's already done."

"Huh?" she asks.

"I burned 12." She gasps. "Burned 39 too: no such thing as coincidences. You said it first, 'I don't believe in absolutes.' And rule 6 because I have come to learn that apologies help more than hurt. I owe you quite a few."

Jack slowly releases her breath through pursed lips. "Okay, anything else?"

"Oh and rule 69. You know, never trust a woman that doesn't trust her man. I get why you said that can be sexist. Used them as kindling for the steaks I made us," he say honestly. Jack looks at him wide-eyed, and he asks worriedly, "Jack?" She responds with a bright laugh. "Hey!" He says, both concerned and a little irritated.

As her laugh becomes a smile that stretches across her face and spreads into her eyes, Jack wraps her arms around Gibbs' neck. "I love you, Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

Gibbs leans forward as his hand slides into her hair. She stares at his lips as they come closer. She looks up to his eyes when he begins, "And, Jacqueline Sloane, I love you."

Finally, he takes her lips in a kiss. Her hands move into his hair, and he pulls her against him. After so many sleepless nights and daydreams, coffee and poker games, work discussions and shared secrets, they are, finally, getting what have both wished for.

When the kiss finally comes to an end, there is a smile gracing both of their faces. "You know, Gibbs, I came here tonight because I was curious what happened to my ink blot."

"Oh, the moth?" he says with a grin, and she laughs as he nods his head to wears it leans wrapped up against the wall by the stairwell.

"No place for it?" she asks with mock seriousness and a chuckle.

"I was gonna let you choose the place," he says with a shrug.

She places her finger to her lip as she considers. With the spark of an idea, she says, "I know just the place." He raises his eyebrows as she turns her head to look upstairs. "To mark my place in your bedroom."

He gives his best crooked grin and pulls her impossibly closer to him. "But, Special Agent Sloane, there are much better ways to do that."

"Calm down, Cowboy. We'll get to that." She gives him a quick kiss that turns into more. She pulls away and taps on his chest. "But first, you gotta get those steaks before they burn."

She leans back on his couch after pulling off her shoes as he hands over the steak. "Look at that, rule 40 is true." He looks at her confused as he passes over her beer. "I thought that you're out to get me…" she begins with a wink. "And you are." He laughs heavily as he looks at her. After only a few bites, she sets down her plate and wraps her arms around his neck to kiss him. He places his plate next to her's, and wraps his arms around her waist. They fall back on the couch and kiss as the firelight dies, announcing the end of restrictive rules and the beginning of real happiness. After all, there is nothing as terrible as wasting good.