So, the 14-hour days are over, but the madness continues! Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed and, again, wanted more. Hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas!

Definitions in this chapter are taken from the Collins English dictionary.

"Love will find its way through all languages on its own."

― Rumi

Ziva lowered her book, and took a sip of red wine, her eyes wandering until they found the man at the other end of the room. The evening had followed the same pattern as so many evenings over the previous four weeks. Dinner, often a take out, then the basement; her reading, him working on the boat. And yet so much had changed. This relationship felt new to her, different from any she had had before. She had never realized that it was possible to feel so excited and so comfortable at the same time. When she thought of him, her skin tingled with a warm shiver and her heart beat a little faster. The fact that the relationship was a secret only heightened the excitement. Yet she was already secure enough to know that she could trust him and be honest with him. Is this what being in love feels like? Neither of them talked much during these evenings in the basement but, she reflected, it was amazing how much you could learn from watching someone. And he is amazing to watch. She knew every angle of his face, the different ways his muscles moved when he was sanding or chiseling, the way his brow furrowed when he was concentrating and the way his mouth curved slightly when he looked at her. She found herself wanting to stay longer and longer, and was increasingly reluctant to go back to her apartment. Even though more reading might get done if I did.

This evening, however, he was not working on the boat. Lengths of wood were lined up on the workbench, darker wood than the boat, distressed oak with a smooth grain. Gibbs seemed to be taking his time measuring and marking, but she could see no plans of any sort. He was concentrating, a slight frown on his face as he took the pencil from between his teeth to make another mark against his tape measure. Finally she could contain her curiosity no longer.

'What are you doing, Jethro?'

He looked over at her, still holding the pencil and tape, and inclined his head slightly. Come and see for yourself. As she moved to stand beside him, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and nuzzled his face against her hair.

'Love you calling me that'. He whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her skin. She laughed and pulled away from him.

'I am curious'.

He picked up one of the lengths of wood and studied it, weighing it in his hands.

'A bookcase'.

She looked at him in surprise. 'A bookcase?'

He nodded. 'Umm-hmm. Figured since you do so much reading, you should have somewhere here to keep your books.'

Keeping books here. Leaving things here. That means staying here. She chose her words carefully.

'You, uh… do not mind if I leave things here?'

He shook his head. 'Want you to, Ziva. But no pressure.' He looked at her and smiled. 'Start with the books, work up to the toothbrush'.

She laughed. 'Actually, it might be easier the other way round'. Her face became serious. 'But I do not want to pressure you, either. I have been leaving to give us both some space. To, uh…give you time to change your mind. If you want to'.

Gibbs put down the tape measure and turned to her, cupping her face in his hands. 'And why would I want to do that?' She shrugged, suddenly nervous and full of doubt.

'I am not the easiest person to live with, Jethro. Especially now.'

Despite himself, he had to laugh. 'And you think I am?' He pulled her close, tangling his hands in her hair. 'Really. No pressure. Just be honest with me'. Ziva shook her head, relaxing into his arms.

'I want to. I just did not want to assume anything'. He wanted me to stay. I wanted to stay. We must be really bad at talking.

Gibbs released her and picked up his pencil again. 'So what's your biggest book?' He smiled again at the look of confusion on Ziva's face. 'How deep should I make the shelves?'

She thought for a moment. 'A dictionary, I think. About this….' She held up her hands. 'By this…and about so deep'.

'A dictionary?'

'What is wrong with a dictionary?'

Gibbs smirked. 'Nothing. You need one though? Your English is better than DiNozzo's'.

'Everyone should have a dictionary. And my English is still worse than my French'. Ziva reached past him to pick up her wine, watching him work again as she sipped. It was a while before she spoke.

'I will not be able to come over tomorrow, Jethro. I promised Abby I would go with her to see her friend's band play. She has been asking me for ages and I could not say no again'.

Gibbs looked at her. 'You don't have to tell me where you're going, Ziva. Just stop by after, if you want'.

'I know'. She sipped again. I want to.

Gibbs paused at the top of the basement stairs. Suddenly his refuge seemed cold and empty without her. He had not realized how used to her presence he had become – and how much he missed her when she was not there. He had also, deep down, been worried about asking her to stay, and the relief he felt when she told him she wanted to took him by surprise. Maybe this is what love feels like. It had been so long since Shannon that he could not remember. He shook his head, and headed down, switching on the light and putting his mobile in its usual place, out of the way on the higher shelf. He wanted to try and get the bookcase finished while she was out, to surprise her later on. As he poured himself a generous measure of bourbon, he noticed something sat on the other end of the bench. He smiled to himself as he saw what it was. The dictionary. She wasn't lying when she said it was big. There was a handwritten note on top, and he suddenly felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. In his experience, handwritten notes from women left in his basement were never good. He picked it up, and his heart beat a little faster, but not for the reason he was expecting.

Truthful adj. – telling the truth; honest.

What I want to be with you.

Lovevb—to have great affection for a person or thing – to have passionate desire for someone – an intense emotion of affection towards a person or thing – a deep feeling of sexual attraction. In love – feeling a strong emotional and sexual attraction.

What I feel for you. Truthfully.

I guess the dictionary can be useful when two people are as bad at talking as we are.

See you later?

Gibbs smiled to himself. Suddenly the basement didn't seem so empty.

Ziva let herself in quietly, and closed the front door behind her. The house was dark and still, but she could see a chink of light still coming from the basement. As she descended the stairs, she realized that it was empty; Gibbs must have already gone to bed. Unusual. She realized there were butterflies in her tummy, wondering about his reaction to the note she had left earlier. Maybe it was too soon. Too much, too soon. Damn it, Ziva.

She saw the bookcase as she turned towards the workbench. It was stunning. He had kept it simple, with plain sides and shelves and a scalloped edge on top, but the wood was beautiful, shiny and smooth. He had placed the dictionary on the middle shelf, and it fitted perfectly. Her heart raced as she picked up the note he had left beside it.

Reciprocatevb. – to give or feel in return.

Looks like you're right about the dictionary.