#rule5

After a long day at work, everyone had their own way of detoxing and getting rid of the previous case demons.  Gibbs normally went home to work on his boat, Tony left for the bar, McGee met up with his gaming buddies, and Ziva always went to the gym. You, on the other hand, stayed at work to make sure you had everything work related off your mind before leaving the grounds.  It was a habit you had picked up from your father.  The late nights weren’t always him going to a bar after work. No, he stayed behind and played his guitar to release the tension before going home to you.

He taught you how to play the guitar at an early age, and it stuck with you long after his passing. Playing always made you feel like he was there playing with you.  Once you made sure the team was long gone, you had grabbed your guitar from one of Abby’s many supply closets that the rest of the team never frequented.  Abby was the only one who knew you could play, and always begged you to play for her when there were overnight cases with no leads.

Returning to your desk, you sat down with you back to the rest of the bullpen and propped your feet up on the small filing cabinet. Getting situated, you played a few chords to warm up your hands.  Pausing for a moment, you scrolled through the list of songs you had filed away in your brain and settled on an easy enough song that reminded you of your father.

Don’t be afraid for me my friend,

One day we all fall down forever,

She says you are not alone,

Laying in the light,

Put out the fire in your head,

And lay with me tonight.

Memories of the times you spent with you father flood through your brain, overwhelming you with serotonin.  Tears prick your eyes as you stare at the picture of you and your father.  Still strumming the chords to the song, you stop singing and resort to humming, knowing if you sang anymore, you’d definitely be crying.  You didn’t think twice about the elevator ding in the background, assuming it was just security doing one of their many rounds for the night. You finished strumming, pleased with how you handled it.  You felt like you could always improve; your dad always said you were your own worst critic.

Sitting in silence for a moment, you realized you were not alone anymore.  It wasn’t the security guards; it was none other than Gibbs. Placing your guitar back in the case, you turned around and met his awestruck gaze. You shook your head, a small smile playing across your face.

Standing to stretch, you broke the silence.  “You gonna stand there staring or you gonna speak?”

He shook his head with no response, just finding his way to his desk to busy his mind.

“Abby is the only one who knows.  My dad taught me when I was a kid, and ever since he passed, I can’t find it in me to quit. It hurts to play without him, but it’s the only connection I have to him now.” You grabbed your guitar case, throwing it over your shoulder so you could return it to its hiding place.

“You don’t waste good. Keep playing, it’s good for you. He would be proud to know you still did.” Gibbs never looks up from his computer, just kept typing away at whatever he was working on.