A/N: Well, this is the final chapter, but I have a second part in the works.
Somehow, Kate being a little stir-crazy and needing to get out of her apartment for a while had ended up with them back at his place. It hadn't felt like much of a trade off, even with the added beer and take out. Kate, though, had looked so relieved when they'd settled into the basement that he couldn't bring himself to mention it.
He leaned to look at her again-tucked into the chair by the stairs, beer bottle hanging loosely in her hands.
The silence felt like too much, a weight he couldn't figure out how to shift off of them.
Gibbs had never been the best at offering people he cared about comfort.
Usually, when someone was lost enough to need that from him, they came here ready to talk. Gibbs knew how to empty a jar and fill it right back up again. He'd watch them, waiting, until the idea of the drink gave them enough freedom to break in front of him.
It was easy enough to let them down into his space. He had no trouble with them leading the discussion-if a largely one-sided conversation could be called that-until they found what they needed from him. Anything beyond that, anything that might make him of any use to her, had gone rusty from so many years of disuse.
He let out a long breath, put down the warm beer he'd been nursing since the food had arrived. Lousy at comforting or not, Gibbs knew how much harder it was to drown with your hands moving. With that in mind, he pulled out sandpaper-less contact required than hand tools-and aimed himself at Kate.
"Hey," he said. When she jerked her head up, he held the paper out between them. "Come help."
Despite the hours they'd spent down here today, she had barely looked up at the boat. He'd been the only one trying to pour his attention into it, so he didn't know what to expect when she snatched the paper from his palm.
He watched as Kate stepped in close to the frame, ran her fingers along until the rough wood caught them. She replaced her fingers with the paper, started working.
"Don't look so surprised, Gibbs," Kate said, her tone lighter than her tired smile. "Might not have ever built a boat, but I've sanded before."
He shrugged, stepped back into the frame.
"Just never figured ya for the wood workin' type is all," he said.
She didn't answer.
The sounds of them smoothing out imperfections filled up the empty space. He couldn't quite keep his eyes from finding her again and again, and finally she looked back over at him.
"Do you think about the op, Gibbs?" she asked, lowering the paper, turning to face him.
He ran his fingers over the wood again, swallowed against a recurring lump. It did cross his mind. When the light hit her face just right, he flashed back to the fear and pain of the barn. When a chair scraped across the floor, they were right back in that house-with him knowing he'd take dying there with her over walking out alone.
"Try not to," he said, dropping his arms, pulling in air.
He could have gone the rest of his life without them ever talking about it-had always done his best healing in the privacy of his own thoughts. Kate, though, that just wasn't her. She might not complain, but he knew she felt it deeply anyway. If she needed this from him...if she needed him to stand beside her and relive it-well, he was hers.
"Let's go upstairs, Katie," he said, sliding the paper free from her hand, tossing it to join his.
She shook her head, swallowed. Her other hand tightened around the frame.
Basement it is then
Gibbs wrapped his hand over hers, stroked his thumb against her skin.
"C'mon," he said.
He pulled her fingers free gently, and she offered no protest as he led her away from the boat and over to the stairs. Shifting his weight down, Gibbs pressed his shoulder into the railing. He glanced up at her as she sat down, her body just touching his. So close, still too far.
She stared into the distance, teeth brushing over her lip. He reached out, wrapped his hand over hers again and squeezed.
He waited.
"I just keep thinking about how we could have died out there. Just like that, here and gone."
"We didn't," he finally managed to say. "Nothing else matters."
She leaned into him, exhaled roughly.
"Waste so much time thinking we have time," she said, looking up at him. "Don't say things we intend to."
He could suggest she say it all now, but he didn't. He knew what she meant, didn't mind waiting until the dust settled to talk.
Right now, what he wanted more than anything, was to give her at least one thing about that time that didn't just hurt. He forced himself back, to remember anything worth anything.
It came to him with a quickness that both surprised and relieved him.
"Never did tell you."
She blinked up at him.
"Tell me what?"
"Why I asked you to work for me," he said.
She sat up more, studied him. He watched her face as she thought, as confusion turned into a smile. He barely resisted the urge to pat himself on the back for making it happen.
"That's right," she said. "You owe me."
More than you'll ever know
He gave her a small shrug, watched as her smile grew. He had missed being able to tease her.
"Well?" she asked.
He laughed, real and deep for the first time in far too long.
It wasn't much really, but if it gave her anything at all, it would be worth exposing himself.
"Thought it'd be nice to see you again," he said, meeting her eye. "That you'd make a damn fine agent."
She let out a slow breath and he squeezed her hand again.
"Still feel the same, Kate."
She blushed and dropped herself back against him, and he wrapped a hand around her back, pulled her in close.
Her hand curled up into the front of his shirt, and he wanted to kiss her. He could make them both forget the world for a while, a long while, but he didn't do more than drop that kiss against her hair.
He had always needed her in his life a hell of a lot more than he needed her in his bed, nothing had changed that. And maybe someday he'd be brave enough, both smart enough and foolish enough, to figure out if he couldn't have both. It just wouldn't be today.
She smiled up at him, eyes warm and soft and full of a love even he couldn't deny. Her wearing his sweatshirt, her scent the only one in a room full of sawdust and beer and memories, was more than enough for now.
Kate
It came as no surprise when Gibbs offered up the sandpaper a second time. She found herself at the boat, close enough to feel his warmth and breathe him in. His voice, low and warm, rumbled off him and settled somewhere deep in her chest.
Kate wanted to kiss him. She wanted to do far more than that right after. Mostly, though, she just really wanted to thank him for being her friend-for being one hell of a boss, even if she did want to throttle him most of the time.
Kate didn't need the rest, not really. She needed him to still be there in the morning, needed him to still look at her like he did tonight.
She sighed.
"You need sleep, Kate," he said.
Kate looked over at him, just resisted the urge to yawn and prove his point. Gibbs pulled the sandpaper free from her hand, smiled down at her.
He tossed it onto the table, rolled his neck and shoulders. Gibbs scrubbed a hand over his face, and she couldn't deny that he did look a few levels past exhausted. It would be hard to pretend she didn't want to find the nearest warm and comfortable surface and fall face first onto it. It all made perfect sense-it felt like giving whatever this was up without a fight.
She knew what she must look like, saw it in his face as his smile shifted into concern.
"Katie?" he asked, before reaching out. He tugged her in close, wrapped his arms around her. "It's going to be okay."
She nodded her head against his chest and he wrapped her up a little tighter. Kate closed her eyes, listened to his heartbeat as it drowned out everything else. It didn't take long for her to realize how dangerously close she was to drifting off to sleep, standing or not. He seemed to realize it too and let her go.
Gibbs reached down for her hand at once, tugged her gently towards the stairs. She didn't argue, used all her focus on actually climbing them as they moved. Gibbs didn't seem in much better shape.
As they rounded the corner, started up the next flight, she realized exactly where they were headed. She should have known all along, probably would have if she had given it even a second of thought. Gibbs-well, of course he'd take her to the bedroom. He was too old fashioned, too gentlemanly to do anything other than offer her his bed.
Too noble for your own good, Gibbs
Gibbs released her at the top, moved into the bedroom. Kate followed him, watched as he pulled back the blankets, smoothed them out again. The rest of the room was just as tidy, just as ordered as she would have expected.
Kate moved to the nearest side, sat down and pulled off her shoes.
Gibbs stood there, hands curled up at his side.
"Stay," she said, looking up at him. "Please."
"Kate, I don't know-" he said, swallowing. He ran his hand over his face, looked a little helpless. Stay, Gibbs. "You're sure?"
She nodded, threw back the other half of the blankets. Kate drew her legs up onto the bed, pulled the blankets up as she shifted down. Gibbs unbuttoned his shirt, tossed it onto the corner chair as he rounded the other side of the bed.
The mattress shifted as he slid in, covered himself, and went still again. They'd done this before, on the op. They'd done this before in her head, but this didn't feel like either time. No one listened to them now, no one would know if they crossed a line. They were free in a way they had never been.
Somehow, much to her surprise, the thought made her want to stay on the right side (the known side) that much more.
The mattress shifted again as Gibbs rolled up on his side. Kate did the same, smiled as he reached out and brushed hair off her cheek and tucked it back behind her ear. For a few moments, he just looked at her-like it was the first time he'd ever seen her, or the last time he ever would. He looked at her like he was making a memory and she never wanted him to stop.
"Don't wanna lose you, " he said.
He told her as much in that house. This felt so much bigger, more. It made her think of a future she didn't even know if they could maintain-one where his stubbornness and her pride somehow didn't end with her on a new team or in a new job, with her unable to look at him like she did right now.
"Gibbs, I-"
He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip and she closed her mouth again. Of course he knew, saying it wouldn't make it more or less real. Nothing had to be decided tonight, still had to leave room for the potential that they'd wake up in a week or two and remember all the reasons they'd never done this before.
He swallowed, visible in the moonlight. Gibbs stroked his fingers over her face gently. She need to be closer, needed as much as she'd allow herself to take.
She scooted into him, and he wrapped his arms around her at once.
Maybe she'd wake up tomorrow to find that nothing had changed-maybe he'd still sometimes look at her like she had a hand in making the stars, and she'd still think he'd pull them down for her if she ever asked-but for right now, she had everything she wanted.