... I need coffee(AUTOPLAY)

‘ the job’s done and the BITCH is dead. ’

               “ exactly !  i was dead, gibbs !   you can’t tell me —— ”  

( that that had no effect on you. ) is how that sentence was supposed to end.   but he can — or at least he WILL, she knows, in his stupid,stubborn way.   such a direct line will not work.

he’s not the heartless shell some people would believe him to be; he’s not a man of pure STEEL, reflective, deflective, impenetrable.  ( in fact, she would and does argue, he’s quite the opposite.   the world is rubber and he is glue, the problems and weight of it all bounce around and stick to he who will carry it all too long. )   she smells the BULLSHIT a mile away, and might she say, she’s getting awfully tired of him flinging it at her.  

she swallows thickly, glances down and up again, levels both gaze and tone somewhere in the middle.  meet him in the middle.

                  “ you can’t tell me that nothing happened.  even if it was just new carpet or hearing an actually new story from ducky or… ” start small, she thought.   “ you weren’t dead.  and… neither was i, obviously.  we both lived FULL LIVES, gibbs. and we should talk about that. ”

he’s not going to start, of that she is reasonable sure.  so a moment’s p a u s e,  and then she was going on, eyes still on him, studying every muscle of his face.

he’s already so EXHAUSTED. so tired of this tussle, the back and forth, the ( open up gibbs, you can’t keep it bottled up. )  the hell he can’t.   everyone thinks they know how to handle grief and loss. but you can’t f a t h o m it unless you’ve experienced it. and goddamn, he’s a fuckin’ expert on the subject.

she should know him well enough to know ---- it’s HIS business, his P R I V A C Y.  why does she suddenly expect different.

bury it. bury it deep.

gibbs clears his throat awkwardly as she talks about her cat. this isn’t a conversation he wants to have. and he’s pretty sure she’s going to want to back out of it as soon as he OPENS his mouth.

YOU KNOW WHAT A SNIPER CALLS A BRAVO-51?

                              A KATE.

she’s beauty, she’s GRACE,        she’ll punch you in the face.

she asked ducky for his advice broaching the subject.  his words of wisdom: to avoid the situation altogether.  ‘he’s not curious ?  well, don’t look that gift horse in the mouth,’  the good doctor had advised.  ‘let sleeping dogs lie, caitlin.   they’ll awaken just fine in their own time.’  then, with a chuckle:  ‘after all, it is, gibbs.’  sipping her  morning tea, she had agreed with him.  

                                                  but gibbs is a whole different kind of BEAST.

by evening, sitting in the dead middle of his couch, she’s changed her mind.  she cracks her knuckles, fiddles with the hem of her skirt, picks a small, imaginary piece of lint off the seam.  something’s on her mind, there’s no way he’s not picking up on it.  he might ask, sooner or later, and she intends to bring this up without any prompting. 

                                                                        “we haven’t talked about it.” 

she bites the inside of her lower lip for a moment before she elaborates. both eyes and voice raise to reach him.

                   “what’s happened in the last couple years.  i mean, besides the first day.  you grilled me on the first day. and THAT made sense.  actually, that’s probably the last thing that made sense. ———— don’t me wrong !!! i’m happy, i am, with how everything’s turned out, how we’re turning out.”

                                   ( a deep breath to reorient herself. )               

there’s something -- something hanging in the air. but gibbs already LOATHES the holidays. and even though he HAS kate, he misses his girls d e a r l y. not to say that kate hasn’t ( soothed ) his wounds, but ---- REGARDLESS, he shakes his head, finally pulled back into the conversation 

           “hmm?” he tries to play dumb. he tries to play the ‘ i don’t know what you’re talking about card ‘ but he knows kate is WAY more intelligent than that. has she NOT learned? he doesn’t talk. it doesn’t matter if it’s her -- hell, he doubts he’d talk to shannon about that. no -- not true, he could tell her ANYTHING. so why can’t he talk to kate? his katie. his sweet angel sent down from heaven -- by shannon, he honestly thinks.

         “ you were dead, katie. there isn’t anything to talk about. ”

oh but there is. gibbs may not have the vocal words to say, but the foul dreams and ( sleepless ) nights speak further than he ever could. a man of few words -- he keeps his weaknesses close to his chest, it all shattered once she came into his life. she SHOOK him up, rattled every cage ---- lit every F I R E in gibbs chest only to extinguish them in one SWIFT blow. and he’s still recovering. it’s a process. a SLOW,  s l o w process.

“Fear doesn’t need conquering,   fear shows you where the edge is.”