What Ever I Wanna Post

You’d fallen asleep about an hour ago, tucked in close against him and he hadn’t had the heart to move you. You’d been exhausted after the call from Frank’s, overwrought and upset.

They’d arrested David at his home in front of his wife and children. Randy had found Violet’s engagement ring, stashed in a wall safe along with photographs from around the time. Most of them were group shots, Mike's face scratched out from every single one of them.

David crumbled when presented with the evidence and then the real story had emerged. How he’d had been in love with Violet for years. How the engagement to that foulmouthed Texan had tipped him over the edge. He’d intercepted her on her run that evening, tried to make his case, it had gotten into a fight and before he knew it he had lost control completely.

All of that trauma you’ve spent years shoving down had risen to the surface at that point. You’d dropped the phone, become inconsolable. It’s something that happens when you live with a nightmare like this for so long, it becomes a part of you and now that it’s gone…

There’s just this void.

Gibbs had gathered you up into his arms and cradled you against him, rocking you the same way he used to when Kelly had a nightmare. He’d held you like that for hours, sheltering you from the storm outside until you’d cried yourself to sleep. He wonders what happens after this, what moving on looks like to you. He hopes that you can find a way to let go, to be happy again.

You stir against him, nestling even closer and his lips brush the top of your head, shushing you. You seem to settle after that, relaxing into him and Gibbs can’t express how good this feels, being here with you. He knows it should feel like a betrayal but it doesn’t and it makes him wonder if maybe he’s moving on too, if he’s just been too thick headed to notice.

Him and Shannon, they’d never talked about what would happen if she’d been the one to go first, they’d always thought that it would be him, dying out there on some unforsaken battlefield.

“I want you to live your life.” He’d told her one night at the kitchen table before he shipped out. “If I die, I don’t want you stuck here mourning my loss, I want you to get out there and do all the things you want to do. I want you to live the life you’re supposed to.”

He’d meant every single word of it. He thinks if he’d asked her she would have shared the sentiment but she hadn’t wanted to talk about that, she’d taken him to bed instead, reminded him what he was coming home to.

That was the last time he’d made love to another person, his last taste of intimacy. He wants that again, he has for a while, he just…

He isn’t ready for the type of connection that comes with loving someone like that, not yet, but he hopes one day he will be and that someone…

He hopes it’s you.

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