A huge 'thank you' to finlaure, for taking the time to proofread!
Thank you all! You guys rock!
-15-
The famous three B's; basement, boat, bourbon. For a long time it was the only thing that kept him sane. His haven, his domain. Wooden structures started to form up to a level you almost could see what would become of them if they'd last till the end. They came and went, just like the women in his life, poor substitutes for his lost wife and child.
Who would have thought that it would take a coma for him to be able to finally work through the pain of the loss? Well a coma and a retirement and a hyperactive Goth/scientist.
While the urge to build a boat was gone after he had finished the one boat he named after his lost daughter, the need to seek his haven was still present, as was the urge to do something productive with his hands and ease the tension as a byproduct.
Out of his three needed B's two remained and another one was added. Basement. Bourbon. Bed. The latter just a few weeks back.
Out of those three he allowed himself one: Basement. There wasn't a chance in hell he would drink or let himself get caught up in the urge to worship her body, not while Abby was in danger.
He was painfully aware that Abby didn't agree with his way of handling things and if he was honest with himself his body wasn't so keen on his mind's decision either but the upside of being a marine is the trained self-control and thank god Abs knew him well enough to not push further.
For him the dimly lit basement had something soothing, or better calming. Thinking about pale skin beneath his fingers he had to admit that lovemaking with Abby was just as calming, at least once the built-up tension was taken care of. Her unique smell and presence always had that effect on him.
Abby grounded him, relaxed him by getting his mind focused on something else if only for a few minutes.
Maybe it wasn't the basement but the equally calming, familiar smell of sawdust and the calming movements which had to be made with patience and precession. That was probably it, the chance to let his mind focus on something else but the bad and evil in this world.
The thought that Abby had the same effect on him made him realize that once this was over he wouldn't spent so many nights down here, but rather entwined in Abby's arms.
There goes the focus again.
Bringing his mind back to present Gibbs looked at the two projects he had currently started and decided to continue with the promised shelf Abby had asked him to build before everything had happened.
Now there was no need in hurrying but he wanted to make her happy nonetheless. And if he was honest he already had the perfect place in mind where the shelf could find a new home up the stairs in the living room but he sure didn't want to push her into anything she wasn't ready for. The last thing he wanted was pushing her away by hurrying her into something she wasn't ready for.
All he was aware of was that he had wasted enough of the precious time life offered and now he didn't intend to continue with that. Once this was over he would talk to her about the living arrangements, if she still wanted her own place he wouldn't be difficult and stand in the way, as long as it did not mean they would live separate lives. All that really mattered in the end was keeping her safe and happy. For now Abby wouldn't go anywhere anyhow, no need to worry about that.
He placed the large wooden board on top of two trestles and began to sand.
It took awhile but finally he heard some music from up the stairs, accompanied by one or two cupboard doors being opened and closed again.
From time to time he heard Abby's husky voice sing as she worked in the kitchen. A sound he loved to hear. Something he couldn't get enough of.
It wasn't his taste of music, Jethro wouldn't even agree to the fact that it indeed was music, but when her voice accompanied the noise it was heaven in his ears.
The agent had no idea how much time passed 'till…
… he couldn't hear her singing anymore, but soon after, all he heard was a loud thud. It sounded like something big had fallen to the wooden floor above his head.
He did hear the music still playing but that was it, no movement, no doors opened or closed, no steps no human sounds, only the pounding of his heart.
Uneasiness grew in every fiber of his body.
After placing the sanding block onto the board Gibbs took a few steps toward the stairs, put a hand on the rail and called out.
"Abs, is everything okay?" There still was no sound, no movement and moreover no answer.
His gut screamed and adrenaline began to pump through his veins.
Jethro climbed the stair in less than five seconds though it felt like hours till he finally reached the top of the stairs.
He called out again hoping that she had gone upstairs and just didn't hear him from this far down but he still didn't receive an answer to his call.
When he stepped through the slightly ajar door he knew why.
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