Jan 10
Work and struggle and never accept an evil that you can change.
Andre Gide (1869 - 1951)
Leroy Jethro Gibbs stared at the husk of his new boat. There was something very wrong about this.
He had been building boats for a long time; Shannon had recognized how good he was with his hands and she had encouraged him. Since then, he had used the time in his basement to relax and calm him. While his later marriages fell apart and his work swallowed him whole, the basement became a safe haven.
He didn't always build boats, unbeknownst to his team. He created little wooden toys at Christmas for sick children in the hospital. He fashioned cradles and armchairs for expectant mothers and women's shelters. They kept his hands busy, expanded his knowledge and expertise with wood, and made him feel useful. Sometimes his cases at work ended badly for everyone involved and this gave him more control over the outcome.
His new boat. There was definitely something wrong with it. By boat number five, he should have got the hang of what he was doing, knew to trust his instincts and go with the flow. But something was off, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
There! A slight dent.
His best guess involved Ziva throwing her cell phone at the rib in frustration, and he made a mental note to find out exactly what had happened and fix a lock to his basement door before he found Tony's lifeless carcass pinned to a rib.
He sighed as he surveyed the damage. There was nothing for it; he was going to have to make another rib.