Jan 26
One can acquire everything in solitude - except character.
Marie Henri Beyle (1783 - 1842)
Leroy Jethro Gibbs enjoyed solitude. He was not someone who needed to fill his time with aimless chatter, far more content in silence. He did not necessarily need company to enjoy himself and he did not usually have feelings of loneliness.
His basement kept him sane; the peace and time away from the madness and darkness of the outside world. Building boats occupied his mind, allowed him to relax and sleep without nightmares of his family or the latest case. Occasionally both. It was his sanctuary and he guarded it fiercely. He did not lock his front door but protected his basement with his sniper rifle. Woe betide the idiot who attempted to take anything.
Tonight was not a night spent alone to keep the nightmares away or to take a break from the latest investigation. He was sleeping soundly for once and the cases were all currently as cold as the Arctic. Tonight was about relaxing before the next manic period at work, about taking some time to himself.
A loud crash upstairs made him debate the need for the sniper rifle, until various footsteps joined it and he relaxed, rolling his eyes and wondering why they still bothered trying to spy on him. Tony and McGee together sounded like a herd of stampeding elephants. Abby's platforms were especially distinctive. Only Ziva stood a chance against his sharp hearing and she was not attempting to conceal herself, acutely aware the others were being too noisy for it to be worth the effort.
Despite knowing his solitude was about to be irreparably disturbed, he smiled. Sometimes a little company was good for the soul.