Notes at the end
"I feel the worst when I am alone because that's when the monsters in my head say hello…"
It was always in the tawny part dawn that she felt the most afraid. If the sun stopped rising, refused to complete its vanquish of night, how could she ever escape the translucent world of semi-conscious terror that sleeplessness imprisoned her in? In that yellow-brown fragment of time, before the explosion of light across a new day, she would pant and sweat and pray.
And every morning, the sun rose. A fiery beacon, pushing away the black of night, ushering her to move from fear to fight. Daylight was her savior in many ways, keeping her head clear and her eyes focused. She could move and work and do things to help other people. She could surround herself with people who had strengths she could use to hold herself together, even if they didn't know it.
In the light, she could push back the memories of all the bad things that happened to her in the dark. In the light, she could hide the pain.
She'd tried laying the Wingos to rest, burying the box of patches at their graves in Arlington. She'd visited Hale's mother in Reston, though that had proven to be a very big mistake. She wanted to tell the woman every good and honorable thing she could remember about her son. But Mrs. Hale kept asking about Afghanistan. About their capture and the torture and why her son had died and Jack wouldn't – couldn't – tell her about those things. The poor woman had sobbed, become angry and bitter and threw Jack out eventually.
But when the darkness came…
When the darkness came, it roared like a lion and consumed her with gnashing teeth that ripped apart her soul; night after endless night, the darkness left her on the floor, soaked in tears and sweat and anguish. She could see Masahun's face, smell the rankness of his breath and dry, desert sand.
As dusk approached, the trembling in her hands started before she even began shutting down her office for the weekend. Sweat began to bead at her temples, in between her shoulder blades. Contemplating staying on the sofa under the windowed wall, she stalled at the computer. A soft knock at the door turned her attention.
"Hey, you about to head out?"
"Hey Gibbs. Ummm…you know, I was thinking I'm might stay and catch up on some…ummm…I was thinking I would just stay."
He stepped into the room and moved towards her, concern and confusion on his face.
"You ok, Jack?"
She fumbled, not prepared for him to ask and certainly not prepared to give him an honest answer.
"Mm hmm."
It was a terrible attempt to convince of anything other than her being a terrible liar. He cocked his head to one side, that enigmatic Gibbs Tilt.
"Well, you know where I'll be if you need anything."
"Yeah, I do. Thanks, Gibbs. Have a good weekend."
Before his back was through the door and down the hall, she knew she wouldn't stay in her office that night. Nor would she be going home.
The title comes from the song "Be Still" by The Fray (yes, the one that play at the end of "Two Steps Back" S15E22) It's PERFECT for this piece.
I don't own anything. I'm working my way through S16 right now and I have pulled the plug on viewing because I don't want to ruin what I want for this story. I have most of it written already, but I'm posting in chapters to gauge reaction; I'm a glutton and like comments, so please feed my appetite :-P
This is my first attempt at Gibbs and I'm scared to death I'm going to eff him up - I have confidence in my writing, but I take it very seriously and it has taken me a LONG time to get the guts to attempt him. It's only because of Sloane that I'm even trying this one. Mark and Maria have MAD chemistry!
I've stayed as close to cannon as possible throughout, though I don't have a place in the timeline for this. Also, I did need to invent a few things - like the visit to Hale's mother (duh) - creative license and all.
I hope y'all enjoy!