No one seemed to notice that Kate and Gibbs arrived and left together every day, and if they did, no one was going to be the first one to say, though Tony's sly wink to Kate whenever Gibbs wasn't looking spoke volumes. She was confined to desk duty for the first three weeks, as per the doctor's- and a certain ex-Marine's- orders. When she speculated that she might try to push the recovery timeline up by a week, Gibbs' gruff, "The only thing you'll be pushing is a pen, Agent Todd," ended that idea. Three weeks to the day, the cast had been removed, and despite the expected stiffness, the doctor was pleased by the progress. When he said she was a week ahead of schedule, she barely refrained from sticking her tongue out at Gibbs. Now, a week into a gruelling physio therapy session, she suspected he had gotten his revenge by intimidating her therapist. The ache in her shoulder was sure of it.

She had collapsed on his couch after a particularly hard session, and though her eyes were closed, a combination of sawdust and a sixth sense brought a smile to her face. The warm pack placed gently on her shoulder brought a sigh.

"Told ya you'd get the heating pad eventually."

She was surprised he remembered. It seemed like a lifetime ago when he'd given her an ice pack despite her protests.

"You did," she agreed, reaching out blindly to tug him to the couch.

Things had changed since they had kissed. There was a new tenderness to him, one he was careful to conceal at work, but one he seemed more and more comfortable revealing at home.

Home.

That had changed, too. Once the cast had come off, there was a silent agreement to make his house their final stop at the end of the day. It was made under the guise of Gibbs "taking possession of my chair" and her insistence that he tended to his boat. She knew it was more than a carpentry project to him; it was his escape and his solace, and she knew how important those things were for a man who bottled up emotion and lost himself in work.

And yet, in some ways, things had stayed exactly the same. While his tenderness was new, nothing had progressed beyond lingering touches and soft kisses. He still slept on the damn couch. The fact she recognized it as part of his chivalry- he would never think of doing something that might hurt her- didn't assuage the knot of frustration that seemed to hang around her heart like a yoke. It was that frustration that lead her downstairs to the boat.

Three days prior, he had left with DiNozzo for the U.S.S Integrity, on the trail of a killer on board. His return was scheduled a day and a half ago, but weather prevented the sub from resurfacing, and the turmoil on the ocean only magnified the turmoil in Kate. She wasn't concerned about his safety; she knew it was nothing. Cases rarely followed the timeline the agents drew up. Delays happened for a variety of reasons, and more often than not, it was a simple inconvenience. Professionally, it was easy to dismiss. Personally, however… It was something as innocuous as looking in the mirror that morning that made her realize it.

I miss him.

She had touched her lips to bring back the memory of his, and she said it again, aloud.

"I miss him."

Which is how, despite the small protest from her shoulder, she had taken to sleeping on the worn couch in the cool basement, wrapped in one of his many USMC sweaters and his blanket from the living room. Which was why she was currently working on a large patch of the boat, finding the minor burrs and bumps and sanding them smooth. It didn't take her long to understand the soothing appeal, and the thought that it got her closer to Gibbs in some way, even when he wasn't there, brought her a comfort she didn't expect.

She was so lulled by the sound and safety that she didn't hear the presence until it hit the squeaky wooden stair, fourth from the top. Spinning with the gun that was always nearby, centre mass was in her sights before she realized the intruder's identity.

"Jesus, Gibbs!" she exclaimed, dropping the weapon to her side. "I am destined to shoot you."

It took her a minute to realize his muteness wasn't from the surprise of her drawing on him, but because of an intense scrutiny. She looked down at her sweatpants and sock feet, felt suddenly vulnerable in her white tank top and ponytail. She knew she was covered in sawdust and wood shavings, but before she could excuse her appearance, she saw something in his eyes. A sly dawning lit her face.

Recalling another time, she smirked, "This does it for you, huh?"

He seemed to remember it, too, if the grin he was fighting was anything to go by. Rather than reply, he walked over to the boat and began running his fingers along the side. His tactile exploration spread from bow to stern, each inch as smooth as the next.

"You did all this," he marvelled.

Ignoring the flush his praise gave her, she shrugged. "I'm working my way up to cabinets."

His attention returned to her, but in a different way than it had when he first came down the steps. There was a kind of turmoil in his eyes that turned the calming sky blue into a rolling sea. The change was so striking that she couldn't help but reach out to touch his arm.

"Everything okay?"

His mouth opened, but it was his nod that answered for him. Her frown drew out actual words. "I… I gotta head out this weekend."

Her frown remained. "'Head out'? Did the case go bad?"

"No," he said. "No. It's just... somethin' I gotta take care of."

"Personal."

"Yeah."

She pressed her lips together and nodded. She knew he wasn't a communicative man on the best of days, but she had hoped these last four weeks- however anyone wanted to define them- had pried open the steel door that guarded his emotions. I guess I was wrong.

"Okay."

There was obviously something in her voice that hinted at her private thought, because now he was the one to reach for her. "Kate."

Pasting a smile on her face, she blew a strand of hair from her forehead and said, "No, really, Gibbs. It's fine. I should go take a shower. Pretty sure my shoulder wants to have a word with me."

She put down the sander but kept the gun and walked up the stairs. When the door clicked shut at the top, his fingers brushed across the wood again, but it was a poor substitute for soft skin and gentle eyes.

x...x

There was an awkwardness that hung over the next day, despite Kate deciding to not let his silence bother her. The long hot shower the night before had given her time to step back from the situation and view it pragmatically. She had initially taken his comments- short as they were- personally. With more thought, she admitted she had no idea the source of his newfound shift and maybe the best thing would to simply be there for him. Though she felt good about the decision, it seemed it only tightened the security around his thoughts and words, and it was a struggle to get to the end of the day without her breaking.

When he pulled into his driveway but didn't get out, she said, "You're leaving right now."

"Yeah." He thumbed towards the trunk. "Go bag's in the back."

She looked down at her hands then out the window. Anywhere but at him. "I should've gone home." Despite her avoidance of his eyes, the hurt across his face so immediate, she caught it in her peripheral. She knew it was her use of the word 'home' when it didn't apply to his house, but what else was she to think? His hurt only made her angrier. "Have a good trip, Gibbs. Wherever that is." Her fingers were on the door handle when she heard his seatbelt unclick and felt his hand curl up around her cheek.

"Kate."

He could say so much by just saying her name. In the years she had known him, she had heard him say it with concern, amusement, warning, praise, and anger. But she had never heard him say it this way- a sort of longing, a kind of desperation. She turned her head to reply but the words were lost against his lips. This, too, was different. Though she didn't have the experience of his kiss the way she did with the sound of him saying her name, she knew enough to know he was trying to tell her something he didn't have the words to say. Her brain struggled to decipher the meaning made difficult by the sensations his mouth was sending through her body. Pushing aside thought, her fingers moved from the door to his jaw, his late day stubble prickling under her touch. Her seatbelt restricted her movement, but she turned into him just the same. This wasn't the fearful desperation of their first kiss, nor the shy comfort of their goodnight kisses; there was a kind of finality to this one. She hoped it was a signal for new beginnings. She didn't want to think about what it meant if it wasn't. All she could do was pour herself into the kiss and hope what she had to give was enough.

He was the first to pull away, though he didn't go far. Resting his forehead against hers, she felt his broken breath warm her cheek. After an eternity, he reached up to take her hand and kissed it almost gallantly before putting it on her lap and unclicking her seatbelt.

"I'll be back sometime Sunday night," he said, suddenly all business again, as if the last few minutes hadn't happened.

She waited for more, but when none was coming, she sighed and opened the door. "Be safe, Gibbs." She had no idea if he watched her go into the house because she never looked back.

x..x