***Disclaimer: I now own all 5 seasons. Don't ya just love tax time? Ok, but that's all I own….sadly.

The bullpen was dark but for the light on his desk. He looked around. The team had left long ago, everyone worn out from the excitement of the day and worry about Lizzy. He was the only one that remained. He loved NCIS at night. He looked over at the window and out into the night sky. The moon was high, there were no clouds, and all the stars were visible. He could almost see Kate standing at it, staring into the darkness. He had loved so many things about her. He had loved her in the bedroom, but had admired her abilities at NCIS. She would always be the rookie to him. The probie. He smiled as he thought back over the years. How he had taped her treasured PDA to the target at the shooting range, how she sucked on a lollipop just enough to turn him on without trying to, how she had been so smug that day on Air Force One. Not long after she had joined the team, he had spent numerous hours searching novelty shops for just the right gift and one day he found it, exactly what he was looking for. The next morning she had come to work and found a small glass frog figurine on her desk with the biggest set of balls imaginable. She had laughed and turned in her chair to face him. And that was when he had known. He had seen it in her eyes. Seen it that day and every day after. He saw it when she challenged him at the office. He saw it when she challenged him in the bedroom, fighting for control. At first he had thought that DiNozzo might have had a chance with her but it didn't take long to figure out that she was above that. He knew DiNozzo was a changed man now but back then he hadn't stood a chance. He remembered on the submarine when she had fallen into his arms. Or been unceremoniously tilted but the how wasn't important. She had clung to him but after a few seconds she wasn't clinging because she had to, she was clinging because she wanted to. He had felt the change in her body and had put pressure on her waist, drawing her closer, tighter against him. The look in her eyes then was the same look he had seen in Hollis' a few years back. The look of a woman who wanted to be kissed. And so he had kissed her. Not then, but later, off the submarine, off the Enterprise. He had driven her home and stayed the night. She had invited him in for coffee but he had tasted her coffee before and… well… he had agreed to coffee but made it only until the door had swung shut before closing the distance between them and waiting only a second for her nod of approval before capturing her lips with his. And with his capture of her lips, she had captured his heart. He looked at Kate's desk. Kate. His little Miss Prim and Proper Catholic school girl and her wicked ways. It hadn't taken long to get her to open up in the bedroom. Her secret was that she loved to be on top. He had coaxed her with kisses and she had eventually given in – only to find her pleasure heightened a thousand times over when she was above him – in control. And he had had no problem relinquishing that control to her. He had kept his hands on her waist as she strained against him. His tan hands had spanned her waist with a possessiveness he hadn't known was within him.

He had gotten his revenge for her death when he saw the blood seeping out from under Ari's lifeless body. Although he had not gotten the personal satisfaction that would have come with that kill shot, he had still felt relief as Ari had collapsed in front of him. He missed Kate. He took a deep breath and opened his bottom drawer. Lifting up the papers on top, he reached to the bottom, his fingers curling around the object he was seeking. He pulled it out and held it out, away from him, reaching for his glasses. He turned in his seat, looking at Ziva's now vacant desk. And while he and Ziva shared a special connection, he would always see Kate's smile when he looked that way. The way her eyes lit up when she beat DiNozzo to a lead. The way her hair mussed after sleeping on the floor under her desk. The way she bit her lower lip when focusing on a sketch. He looked down at the book in his hand. He leaned forward and leaned his arms on the desk, the sketch pad laid out in front of him. He flipped through the various pictures. Damn but she was good, he thought. And these were just the ones he had kept at work. He had two more sketch pads at home in the basement filled with Kate. With Kate's ideas, with Kate's humor, with Kate's love. The love they had shared. He needed to find a way to move past the pictures. The pictures that were all he had left of his Katiegirl. Her hand had been so steady, so connected with the paper as if they flowed as one. He flipped through the pages and decided he knew how to turn Kate's memory into something the whole team could appreciate. Something that could help him move through the pain, and eventually, past the pain. It would set him free. He held the sketch pad close to his chest as he stepped into the elevator. He would always miss Kate but now, with the idea of framing her pictures for the team, maybe he would finally get peace from his Katiegirl.

***

Paris. Wine. Perfume. Positano. Nights that had run into days that had run into nights again. They had left the bed only for food – even then bringing it back to devour along with each other. Hers was an unquenchable thirst. Even in her last few years, she thirsted. For justice, for revenge, for caffeine, for him. But although they had toed the line, it had always been Madam Director and Special Agent Gibbs. Never Jenny and Jethro. He had been jealous of her numerous dates but he had also felt her eyes on him on more than one occasion. He knew she had threatened—er, talked with Col. Mann but the jury was still out on those conversations. He had always suspected that her illness was more than she or Ducky would let on but he had seen her suffering and done nothing. He had wanted her to confide in him. Trust him. Trust him with the pain that made her bleed inside. He thought he had made his thoughts clear to her. His invitations. But she had known. She had known the rules almost better than him. Jenny had never known where the rules originated but she had abided by all but one of them – same as him.

She had always been a better agent than director. Her instincts, her hunches, her gut. She had always been dead on. She was as good an agent as he was. They had been good together. They complimented each other. Where one lacked, the other picked up. He had seen inklings of this in Tony and Ziva. They were good together too. He knew Jen had fought her way to the top. He knew that her power had come at a price. He had been content to being an agent, but she had wanted more. She had always wanted more. His mind flashed to the bed in Paris. The heat, the heavy breathing, the sheen of sweat covering her body as she ravaged his. And she was just as relentless in the bedroom as in the field. She had been insatiable, wanting him inside of her again and again. He would no sooner finish than she would be ready for more. And he had given it to her. Of course, he had been considerably younger then with a considerably lengthier libido. But he had loved her in Paris just as much as he had loved her in D.C. Only as the years went by he had to content himself with a love from afar. He had wanted to give in so many times. He had wanted to stride into her office, much to the chagrin of Cynthia, push her roughly against the wall, the window, the desk… and rip into her. Before, their relationship had been almost sweet. An affair in Paris, as romantic as you could get. In NCIS, as director, he had wanted to slide her skirt to her hips, push her panties aside and thrust into her, hard. He had wanted to pound against her and bruise her lips with his kisses. He had wanted the roughness and so many times he had seen what she wanted, in her eyes, in her words, in her movements. But he had let her go. He hadn't pressed her for answers. He hadn't pressed her for anything. And that is where he had lost her.

She had left him the house in her will. Actually, she had left him everything. And he had burned it. He had walked away from the flames that had lit up the sky but had not been able to decimate the flames that licked at his mind and his heart. She was an all consuming presence. It's not that the memories of them together invaded his mind so much as the way she seemed always behind him. The voice of reason, the voice of vengeance, the voice of love. And they had loved each other. A lifetime ago. Nothing had reignited since she had become director. He had hinted, she had teased. But the line had never been crossed again. Rule # 12 had started with her and ended with Kate. And then it had crept right up to him and smacked him on the back of the head when Lizzy had showed up. He had loved Jenny in a way that was different from the others, but he hadn't been there to save her from herself. He had watched revenge eat at her soul, claw at her mind until there was nothing left but raw human flesh. He should have pushed harder into her life. Pushed for answers that she had but would not give. If he had pushed deeper, she might not have died alone. He missed her drive, her ambition, hell, he even missed the way she said his name. 'Jethro' always seemed to take on an extra meaning when it came from her lips. Drawn out and pronouncing every syllable, he had always felt a small chill creep up his spine when she had called him by name. Or if he was really in the doghouse, it was Special Agent Gibbs. He remembered how she always quoted his own rules back to him. Damn irritating but always sexy. Always. The red hair, the red lips. This one he had to let go too. He stood in front of the burned out property, darkness surrounding him at the late hour. He had taken all her important papers with him that night. Even the note to him that had been barely started, never finished. After the funeral he had had the land excavated and cleared. And here it was, an empty lot in front of an empty soul. Empty with the need to be full again.

***

That night, at home, in his own bed, he slept restlessly. He tossed and turned. He had finally been able to put two of the ghosts to rest. He still had two left and he had no idea where to start. He didn't have an answer at 2am and he wasn't any closer at 5:36am when he rolled over to look at the clock. Instead of trying any longer to come up with an idea he decided he needed some help. So in the early hours of the morning, when the sky was barely pink, he went down to the basement. He found what he was looking for and dumped the five gallon bucket, half filled with nails, upside down. The nails went crashing onto the concrete floor, mixing with broken glass. He took the empty bucket to his car and threw it in the back seat. He drove the distance to the cemetery and pulled up alongside familiar markings. Bucket in hand, he made his way through numerous headstones before finding his girls. He turned the bucket upside down and took a seat.

From all outward appearances, it was a man paying his respects to his family members. Any one looking closer, though, would have seen a man wracked with guilt, walking around the markers talking to himself, to the ghosts. He would sit for a while, head in hands, fingers raking through his silver hair. He would kneel and sweep the leaves and grass from around the edges. He would stand again and start talking to himself, to them. Sometimes his lips would move, sometimes his hands would move. He relived the moments, the memories that only he had. Fishing at the beach, horseback riding, watching movies. He thought about Kelly helping him sand the boat. He saw Kelly and Maddie laughing and running around the yard. He thought about the very first moment he had laid eyes on Shannon and the very last time he had seen them both. He wouldn't be who he was today without them. Shannon had been so beautiful that day at the train station. He had felt like the luckiest man alive when she sat next to him on the train and talked his ear off. He had heard about everyone of her rules and the only thing that had been running through his mind that day was that he was glad he wasn't a lumber jack. He pictured the looks on their faces when he left that last time. The last time he would ever see them. The hours passed and still he remained in the same spot, rooted to the ground in front of their headstones. As the hours passed, though, his features became softer. He had arrived with pain, anguish, guilt and frustration clouding his face and dulling the sparkle that lit his blue eyes. And now, sometime in the late afternoon, the pain had turned to peace, the anguish to content, the guilt to innocence, and the frustration to understanding. He had shed enough tears years ago to last a lifetime. This time all that came to him was a freedom in his soul.

Back in the car, he checked his phone for messages but there were none. He knew the team would call if they needed him. And Lizzy. Would she call if she needed him, he wondered. The drive to the hospital was short. Again he questioned whether he should even go in. And again he knew the answer. This time, though, fear wasn't foremost in his mind. He knew now, more than ever, exactly what he wanted. What he didn't know was how he was going to go about getting it.

The elevator doors opened and he stepped out, looking quickly around for the nurse that had given him such a hard time the day before. He knew he shouldn't but he wanted to know what the doctor had to say about Lizzy. He knew that all he had to do was ask her himself but he wasn't sure how honest she would actually be with him. Of course when he needed a nurse, she was nowhere to be found. He walked to her room and knocked as he opened the door. He caught his breath as he caught site of Lizzy's almost naked form. She turned halfway when she heard the knock attempting to reach for the robe on the bed. When she saw it was him, she went back to her previously interrupted task of fastening her bra. He's seen it all before, she thought. Why get shy now?

"Need a hand?" Gibbs said as he moved inside the room and shut the door behind him. "Or two?"

She smiled as she pulled the straps to her shoulder and turned completely to face him, reaching for her sweats at the end of the bed. His eyes raked over her body and came to rest on the two gauze bandages on either side, beneath her stomach. He saw slight bruising and saw her flinch as she raised her knees to slip the pants on. Her attempt failed and he came to her rescue, motioning her to sit on the bed. When she sat, he crouched down to slowly put her feet into the sweats and move them up her legs. She stood to pull them the rest of the way and his hands never left her waist. His thumbs began drawing circles on her skin as he leaned in closer. Her lips were so inviting and he had missed the feel of her body against his.

Still without her shirt, Lizzy momentarily lost control of her senses. Gibbs hands on her bare skin, his face inches from hers, his lips ready to descend and devour at any second. Breathe, she thought. You have to remember to breathe. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed against him. His lips were barely a whisper against hers when a voice behind her startled them.

"Guess he's not the ex anymore."

Gibbs smiled against her lips and she smiled back. He stepped back a little and she reached for her shirt. He helped her drop the Redskins jersey over her head and stepped back even farther as the nurse came around with a handful of papers.

"You've got a few things to sign and then you're a free woman."

Lizzy took the pen from the nurse and signed the discharge papers. She stuck the prescription papers and discharge instructions in her purse.

"Is that it?" Lizzy asked as she slipped on her clogs.

"Yep. You take it easy now. And you…" the nurse said, waving a finger at Gibbs. "You take care of her and I don't want to see her back in here because of a broken heart."

Gibbs smiled and saluted the nurse. He moved to stand next to Lizzy.

"You ready?"

"Another Freudian slip, Agent Gibbs?" she said as she slipped her arm through his as much for support as comfort.

He chuckled and led her to the elevator.

A/N: Ok, this one's not as long as usual and it took longer to get done. Life gets in the way sometimes. The idea for this chapter was to get Gibbs through the memories, the pain. I know I didn't spend as much time on Shannon and Kelly but I liked the way I worked their paragraph and I might end up adding more to it at a later time. I didn't feel comfortable enough with my knowledge of them as I did with Kate and Jenny. Because Shannon and Kelly meant the most to him I really didn't want to take too many liberties. I now own all 5 seasons so once I watch them a few hundred times I might feel better about adding more to that part of this chapter. The story is not far from over but it is not done yet. Hope you guys are still curious….