A/N: You guys have been awesome for reading and reviewing, thank you! Really nice to see what people are thinking about the story and characters. Now, if we can just get through Thursday...I have big plans for Jenny and Gibbs for their weekend. Keep reading!

A/N2: I live in Canada and have never been to Washington so please forgive any errors in my made up DC geography near the end of the chapter.

A/N3: Sorry this one is so short. I have more to post but I work early in the morning and I'm super tired and just don't have the energy to type anymore tonight. More tomorrow, I promise : )

Special Agent Gibbs never made it back to sleep beside his wife that night. Once at home he headed straight for the basement, flipping the small work lights on and stripping down to the t-shirt under his clothes as he prepared to work. He picked up his place first. It was one of the more manual tools he used and required muscle strength and physical effort to power it. A tool like this was good for working out frustration.

Setting the place on an uneven middle board, Gibbs began vigorously shoving it away from him. Once, twice, three times and the board matched the level of the others. But he was just getting started and another board took the place of the first as his anger began to rise to the surface. He beat out a steady rhythm on the boat as the sliding motion of the place leveled uneven boards and smoothed the wooden surface of his boat.

When he had done all he could with the place and breads of sweat had started to form on his forehead, Gibbs moved onto another task. Finding the brace and bit on his workbench, Gibbs moved to the other side of the boat and set the bit on the circles that were already marked for where to drill holes. He loved using hand tools to build his boats, feeling the wood under his hands and using his own strength to shape and define each part. Pressing down on the top of the brace, Gibbs twisted the handle in a rapid circular motion. Curled bits of shavings began to appear at the base of the bit as it sunk deeper and deeper into the wood.

When the hold was finished, Gibbs bent down and gently blew to clear the hole of dust and shavings. He did several rows of neat little holes but that was only the beginning. A small box of wooden dowel pins rested on the shelf and he took his mallet from the pegs where it hung. Setting one down in the recently drilled hole, Gibbs gave it a firm whack with the mallet and drove it neatly into the hole, flush with the hull.

He continued down the length of the boat. Set the pin in the hole, whack! Over and over again. Sweat trickled down his face and between his shoulder blades and his shirt stuck to his skin. Twenty, thirty, forty pins were hammered into the tight holes. Gibbs didn't care that his breathing was getting heavier or that his muscles were protesting the strain. He didn't care about the sweat that dripped into his eyes or the small splinters that had embedded themselves into his hands. All that mattered right now was the release the work gave him and the feel of all the stress that had been building up all week draining away like water through cracks in the soil after a rain.

The clock had long since slipped past midnight. Gibb's throat was parched and his eyes were burning but he couldn't stop yet. Fitting a new piece of sandpaper around the block that held it flat, Gibbs closed his eyes and started on his favourite part of working on the boat. With his eyes closed nothing else penetrated his concentration. The only sound in the basement was the soft scrape of rough paper against rough wood. Back and forth, back and forth, fast and then slower and slower as he realized the motion was no longer about releasing tension and all about smoothing the wood. He skimmed his fingers over the section he'd just finished, a small smile of satisfaction gracing his face when the wood felt like satin on his work roughened skin.

The peace he was beginning to feel was suddenly interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. With a growl of frustration he flung the sanding block back onto his workbench and flipped open the phone.

"What?" he barked.

"Uh, Boss?" DiNozzo's voice.

"Do you know what time it is Tony?"

"Umm, it's 2:30 in the morning."

Gibbs ran his hand down his face. "There a point to this conversation DiNozzo?"

"Oh, yeah, right. We got a case."

"Where?" Gibbs asked, groaning inside. He wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

"Bus terminal on K Street. Sailor found dead under a bus."

"Under?"

"That's what dispatch told me Boss."

"Okay. Wake Ziva and McGee and get them down there. Tell Abby to meet us in the lab at 4 am. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"On it Boss."

Gibbs closed his phone, resisting the urge to throw it across the room. It was going to be one long night.

Jenny woke slowly the next morning, her eyes fluttering open as she left the haze of sleep behind. She yawned and stretched, feeling rested for perhaps the first time in a week. A small smile played on her lips. Maybe her good sleep had something to do with how she feel asleep last night. She could still feel the steady caress of his thumb back and forth across her hand.

Glancing over at her husband's side of the bed, Jenny frowned. The covers were mussed where he'd sat beside her last night but otherwise it looked like he hadn't come to bed last night. And, being that they weren't at his house where he was occasionally known to fall asleep under his boat (though that was rare now since their marriage), she couldn't figure out why he wasn't here.

Getting out of bed and grabbing her robe, Jenny tiptoed down the stairs to see if he'd perhaps fallen asleep on one of the couches. But at the bottom of the staircase she saw his coat was gone and the alarm was set. Maybe he had gone over to his house after putting her to bed. Goodness knows he needed something to do with himself. Sometimes he got bared at her house because of the lack of boat. Though not usually when they would rather spend time together, something that wasn't quite happening right now.

She picked up her cell from the hall table, hitting his speed dial number as she climbed the stairs back to her room. 0600, he might've fallen asleep in his basement after all. Expecting his groggy, morning voice, Jenny was surprised when he answered with the usual.

"Yeah, Gibbs." She knew he hadn't checked his call display or he was keeping her identity a secret from someone.

"Jethro, where are you? I missed you when I woke up."

He was silent for a moment and Jenny guessed he was moving somewhere it was safe to talk. "Sorry Jen. Caught a case early this morning."

Jenny felt badly for him. He probably hadn't slept yet. Of course, he was Gibbs and could run off no sleep and little food but it wasn't idea.

"It's okay. Drink lots of coffee and I'll see you in a little while."

"Okay babe," she could hear the weariness in his voice. "Love you."

"Love you too," she smiled. Time to get ready for work.