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Chapter Text

This time I really knew I was deep in the shit. Running through a port being chased with blood running down your legs is not recommended. I don’t really know how I got here. Waking up in the half-dark with a raging headache bound to a chair has the potential to fuck up your day. It gets even worse when two men show up demanding information on your father who died 10 years ago. They however were under the impression that he is still alive. When I told them otherwise, they didn’t believe me and started cutting me up. After that it all went a little hazy up until I found myself alone in the dark. The pain was excruciating but all I could think about was not wanting to die. So I knew I had to come up with a plan. I struggled against my restraints and noticed that my right hand was a little loose. The left hand however was getting numb. My only option seemed to be to throw myself on my already injured side to break the chair I was tied to. Even though this option sucked, I had no other way out. So I pulled my right hand even more loose and started to throw myself on my side. Now my hand was numb and hurt like hell but I could hear the wood breaking. After hauling my body on the floor a few times the chair broke and I could finally break free of my restraints. The bad news were, it was still dark and I did not know where to go. Slowly I felt the panic rising up my throat but I had hope too.I got out of my chair. That got me a chance to fight. I was hurt, bleeding and starving. But I wanted to live and that pushed me forward. Trying to push the panic down I scanned the room. it was a whole lot of darkness but a sliver of light came through a crack near the floor on one end of the room. With tentative steps and careful touching of the wall I worked my way toward the wall with the light. I started to feel my way around the wall and realised, that I must be in a shipping container. Which could mean a) I was on a ship and escaping would be near impossible or b) I was somewhere on land not wanting to be found. I really hoped it was B. I also knew that getting out of here without a fight was not possible. You could not get out of one of these containers from the inside. The CIA taught me that. My only chance was suprising them when they came back and fighting. So I went back into the room and started feeling around for a knife or a gun. Hopefully a gun. Of course I wasn’t that lucky, but I found a small knife I could use. I went back to the doors and sat right in the middle, so I could jump out as soon as they opened them. And then I waited. Without a way to tell time, it felt exhaustingly long. My legs ached. My head throbbed. My left hand tingled just slowly coming back to life. My stomach burnt from the hunger. And of course everything hurt. But that was not important. All that could be fixed. I just had to get out of here. Just when I thought I would become mad I heard it. The small hopeful creaking of the lock opening. My heart started running and my eyes focused on the light so I would not be too stunned when the door opened. With a loud bang the doors were pulled apart and I sprung forward. The man on the side opening the door was blocked but started pulling a weapon. Despite my injuries I was faster. My jump landed exactly on the other man waiting to go inside and I slashed my knife through his chest. After rolling down on the ground I just stared running. I couldn’t quite see yet but I knew I was running around other containers. I heard the gunshots behind me but did not dare to look back. That would only slow me down. I tried as best as I could to run for cover behind containers and loose the man chasing me but it was hard. He kept shooting at me. I heard his footsteps steady behind me. My lungs burned but my adrenaline kept me going. I would not be held captive again. It only took a second of weakness for me to turn around. Thats when I noticed the two other man running behind me. Only they did not have handguns, the had maschine guns. Now I was deep in the shit. My slalom run had to get better. Just as I turned a corner I heard gunshots behind me. I just kept running. Thats how I got here. Running through a port with no way to go. I notice the no way to go part when the containers started fading out and I could see the sea. What looks like a marine ship is just heading out as I run towards them. The gunshots keep going on behind me, so I only have one chance. I jump. With all my remaining strenght I haul myself across the water onto the ship. With a hard bang I land onto the ship. I only feel the pain radiating across my entire body and the gunshots still going off. Some time later they stop. But I just keep laying here. My body has had enough. Through the silence people scream at me. Groaning I turn around and look into a pair of really angry eyes and at a few guns. “What the hell are you doing jumping on my ship? You just got one of my man killed, what the fuck is going on here?” I take a deep breath and look around. I notice that I am surronded by marines. Great. “I am Special Agent Francesca Morales, CIA.” The guns begin to lower and I see even more confused stares. “And I have been kidnapped.” Just as the last word left my lips I pass out.

Chapter Text

Gibbs
You know your day is going to go badly when you get called to two killed marines on a ship and an injured CIA agent. That meant dealing with the CIA, and I really hate dealing with the CIA. I arrive on my crime scene as usual with my coffee in hand and bickering DiNozzo and David behind me. The first thing I notice about the crimescene is the trail of blood and casings leading up to it. It is not everyday that someone seems to get chased through a navy port. To get a full picture of the crime scene I board the ship to look at the two bodies. They have multiple gunshots piercing their bodies, so cause of death seems to be pretty simple. “So Commander, what the hell happened here?”, I start, adressing the leader of this ship. “Well we started boarding normally, doing our checklist, when we got alerted to gunshots outside. I sent a few of my man out front to investigate. Thats when they say the girl sprint towards our boat. She was being followed by I think three other men. Can’t really tell you what they look like. They were chasing her and shooting. Thats probably why their aim was so bad and she is still alive. Can’t say the same about my man,sir.” “That does not seem to be her fault does it?” “She is CIA, sir you never know. She started jumping, with that gash on her leg we never thought she would make it but she did. She fell down right here” He pointed to a marked off spot on the ground where some blood had pooled. “My men returned fire and two were hit. We started our descent from land to keep them from coming aboard and that is when they ran.” “Did you see where they were running off to?” “Same way they were coming from, through those containers back into the port.” “And the girl?” “In Medical, took a lot of painkillers though.” “Thank you.” Wanting to know where they were running off to I send McGee and DiNozzo back on land to see if they can follow the trail they were coming from. After that I motion to Ziva to come with me to interview this mystery agent. Maybe seeing another woman around all these men will help her open up. “I saw the jump she made, it would have been hard even for me to make it.” “Yeah well, she was running for her life, Ziva.” Ziva scoffs. “Still, she has to have some skill.” “We will see.” With a strong push I open the door to Medical and step into the room. “Special Agent Gibbs and Officer David, NCIS.” We show our badges to the doctor and he only gives a small nod and leaves. Only then do I get a look at the woman lying in the hospital bed. She is hooked up to an IV, has bandaged around both arms and one hand. Her face is bruised and her forehead swollen. But still she does not look defeated. She has an almost undefeatable look in her eyes that I seldom see in people. “Please, I have looked worse.” Agent Morales breaks the silence attempting to crack a smile only to wince when she tries to sit up. “You don’t have to sit if you are in too much pain”, Ziva offers but Agent Morales sits up anyway. “It is fine, blood has to keep circulating somehow right? So ask what you came here to ask.” Ziva starts asking her questions about her capture and her way onto the ship. By the way she retells the events you‘d think she was reading from a report. But I also had the feeling she was holding back. Agent Morales claims to have no memory of the kidnappers demands but still recalls the torture in detail. I do not want to press the issue in this moment without more background but I knew she was not telling the whole story. On one hand I knew what she went through was traumatic, on the other hand got her actions to marines killed and I had to find out who killed them. But I had some time. After she was done telling her story I ask her if she could think of anyone who would want to harm her or if this events could have something to do with her work. „No I have no clue. If they wanted to know about my work I would remember that. But they didn‘t. I was prepared to die for the secrets of my country, but I was not prepared to die for something I had no knowledge of.“ She turns her head and stares onto the IV fluid slowly dropping through. „Okay, we are done here for now.“ As I am leaving I hear her say:“Agent Gibbs!“ I turn around. „I am sorry about your men. I never wanted for them to get hurt.“ The honest empathy from a CIA agent no less kind of takes me by suprise, so I just nod and return on deck. DiNozzo informs me that they followed the bloodtrail across the port and found that I led to a container that was burnt up and is now being extinguished by the fire department. No suprise here, the kidnappers wanted to erase the evidence. Ducky and Palmer had taken the bodies back to morgue and blood samples and evidence was collected. Therefore there was nothing else to do here. Except there was a witness to everything who isn’t telling the whole truth and to the kidnappers she was still a liabilty and a loose end. „Ziva you stay here with Agent Morales accompany her to the Navy hospital and stay there with her. She is our only witness we need her.“ Ziva nods and goes back inside the ship. „DiNozzo you-„ „Organize a police escort to the hospital and make sure another agent is with Ziva at all times? Got it boss.“ „Good, McGee you go back to the office and find everything there is to fing on Agent Morales.“ „On it.“ On the ride back I was planning on what to say to whoever I got at the CIA. One of there own was tortured and is currently on a Navy Ship and no one has seemed to reach out. That alone was highly suspicious. But that was the CIA.

Chapter Text

Francesca

The painkillers are really doing their job. The whole ride from the ship to the hospital is blurry and unclear but maybe it is better this way. Not being able to think about what happened for a while could be a blessing in disguise. A short time to recover without all those questions and memories coming back. So without being able to gather a clear thought I spend my drive to the hospital looking at the ceiling of the ambulance and looking at Special Agent David who is scanning our surroundings. In the weirdness of the situation the only thought my brain could gather was „She is very pretty.“ But I had enough self-control not to say that, so I just stay quiet. After arriving in the hospital I got probed, prodded, needled by doctors and just let it happen. It was easier to zone out than to focus on the injuries I had to endure. When they were finally done the doctor informs me, that I had three bruised ribs, two broken fingers, several flesh wounds that they had to sew, a concussion and a cracked ulna. But he also said that I was lucky. I just nod because I do not feel lucky right now. What is lucky about being kidnapped? About being tortured? It just feels painful. I don’t even want to think about being alone again, about the fear I will have to battle until I can work again. God, work. That is going to be a nightmare. I turn my head to the ceiling and blink away some tears. Normally I am not like this. I never cry, not even during movies. I am not that emotional. But right now I feel like my life is falling apart. Pressing my palms to my eyes, I try to push away the tears. When I look back down, Special Agent Gibbs stands before my hospital bed. “Geez, you don’t scare a woman like that. Especially one that has just been tortured. Ever heard of knocking?” “The door was open.” “Yeah still, why are you here?” There was a moment of silence and I just knew he came to give me bad news. What else could it be. “I spoke to your superior.” Groaning I let my head fall back into the pillow. Special Agent Mueller was an arrogant son of bitch on a good day. But finding out one of his team has been “compromised”, that must have been one hell of a conversation. “Ouch, sorry about him. What did he say?” “He said, that you are not authorized to reveal any CIA information to NCIS and that you have to take another psychological evaluation before returning to work.” “Classic. Did he ask how I was?” “No, just if you were tortured for information about your project.” I nod. People are no use for Mueller. If he could he would only work with perfect little machines that did exactly as he liked. I look up in Special Agent Gibbs eyes. He meets my dark brown eyes with his icy blue ones and I almost have to gasp. Maybe the painkillers are still doing their thing because I had the strong urge to tell him how pretty his eyes were. But of course I did not do that either. While I felt a little hurt at what Mueller did, it was nothing I did not expect. It was his style. He made it very clear, that I as a person had no value to him. Well, that is CIA for you. It is cold, but it is what I wanted. Or it was. In the last month I have been starting to doubt my decision, but you do not turn your back on the CIA. Even if you would do that, I could not turn my back on all that hard work, that got me there. So I was determined to make it in the CIA, maybe not in Muellers team, but in the CIA nonetheless. I calm my facial expressions and lay on a emotionless face, but I could still see a hint of sympathy or maybe pity in Gibbs eyes. “Yeah, well that is what he has to safe if I had messed up. Which I didn’t by the way.” “Yeah, wouldn’t believe you did.” That fills me with a sense of pride. I loved my country and I kind of loved my job. I know that those two things were bigger than myself and I would rather give myself up than betray either of them. I had a feeling Gibbs knows exactly what that is like. “Good, because I would never betray my country. Besides they did not even care about that.” “That is what concerns me.” I knew exactly why that concerned him. My job is a clear motive. Something to start with. Everything else about my life is normal. And nobody tortures a normal person for information about their normal life. So I just nod, knowing I am not going to be safe for some time now. But as soon as I recovered I could protect myself. On my own. I dont need Mueller or the agency for that. I learned to do that for myself a long time ago. “We are going to have a security detail on you for as long as we need to figure out who did this and what their intentions were.” “Fine but you better do it quickly, I am very independent.” “Thats the plan.” He looks at me for a few seconds longer and then leaves mumbling something under his breath. Confused I turn to Special Agent David:”Agent David, what did he say?” “Oh he just said that he will be back. And call me Ziva, I think we will see a lot more from each other from now on.”

Chapter Text

Gibbs
Somehow Agent Morales provoked a kind of protectiveness in me. Talking to her superior was a pain in the ass. He was arrogant, rude and not to mention clearly a bad leader. He did not lead his team, he dictated it. Special Agent Mueller was everything I hated about the CIA. And naturally I had a bad feeling about him. But I couldn’t place it right now, so I had to ignore it. Standing in Agent Morales’ hospital room and watching her physically fight back the tears, just made me angrier at him. She was a member of his team. He should care how she is. Not just because she might not be able to come back to work, but also because he should personally care if she is okay. But he didn’t. He did not want to know about her injuries, about her mental state, nothing. Just everything that could possibly make him look bad. I stood there and watched as she put a mask on her expression and her bruised eyes lost their authenticity. Her acting was transparent to me. But I let it slide because that was probably what she needed, to act like she was okay when she clearly was not. After speaking to her I had to flee the room. She made me feel and I couldn’t understand it, so I focused on her case. Which was why I am now standing here looking at a picture of her wound which left her leg bloody. It looks like they pulled a knife from the middle of her calf up to her upper thigh. And if I did not know it before, I know it now. This was personal. This was psychological torture more than physical. It was the threat of rape. Sighing I put the photo to the side and looked back into Agent Morales room. Her head is turned away from my view and it looked like she was talking to Ziva, which was good. She needs to talk to someone, if not to talk about the kidnapping then to distract her. I turn away and call McGee. “Any updates?” “Nothing new, but I can give you the basic details on our victim.” “She is alive McGee, call her by her name.” “Oh yeah sure, boss. So Special Agent Francesca Morales born in Baltimore, American Mother, who now lives in San Diego, Mexican Navy Seal father, who died in an automobile accident 15 years ago. Did basic training in the Navy, never deployed, got a degree in international relations and then went to the CIA were she graduated at the top of her class. Ever since then she switched teams every now and then and has been with her team for about 3 years. Credit card history is clean, nothing weird about her, boss. Seems like she only reads and paints, when she isn’t doing her job. Thats all I could find out. Should I dig deeper into her CIA projects?” “No it’s fine, check her personal life.” “Yes, boss.” I snap my phone shut and take a deep breath. It feels like this is going to be a long case. With everyone working I make my way out of the hospital and go home. I put on an old NIS shirt and head to the basement to work on the boat. Something about this case feels different and difficult. Maybe because our victim is still alive. Maybe because it is the CIA. But all I know is that worrying will not help me solve it. So I just start to work. Immediately my mind starts to calm down and I focus in the wood. The texture, the feel of it. Before I know it, it is time to go back to the hospital again. My shift for the protective detail is in an hour. It may not be protocol for a leader of a team to be part of the protective detail, but I could not stay out of it. Also this way my agents could rest, to do more work later. At least that was my logical excuse. I make myself a new coffee, put on fresh clothes and head to the hospital. When I step out of the elevator I hear a contagious and soft laughter dancing through the station. The sound opens something up inside me, so I am momentarily taken aback. Trying to get a grip I shake my head, take a deep breath and make my way towards Agent Morales’ room. That’s where I find the source of the laughter sitting in her hospital bed and watching a movie with DiNozzo. It takes them a moment to notice me so I have time to notice the little things on Agent Morales’ face. The way her eyes, even in their bruised state, get smaller under her growing cheeks. The way her nose crinkles a bit when starts laughing. The way her lips gain their fullness back when her laughter dies down. And of course the way her smile fades when she sees me standing in the door. DiNozzo follows her line of sight and immediately starts sitting up straight. “Sorry, boss. Just passing some time.” “It’s fine, now get out of here.” “Yes, boss.” He hecticly starts to put together all his stuff and starts to leave. “Bye France. Oh I left the DVD in there so you can finish it if you want.” Her smile returns to her face. “Thanks Tony, see you tomorrow.” DiNozzo waves for one last time then shuts the door behind him. After that I feel Agent Morales’ eyes on me as I move to the chair next to her bed and sit down. “So it is your turn to babysit Special Agent Gibbs?” “If you want to call it that.” I take another sip from my coffee and lean back into the chair. It is not the most comfortable one but it will do. It is silent for a little while. Agent Morales just sits in her bed, eyeing me with a humorous expression. Wanting to provoke her I stare back. The clock on the wall ticks loudly through the silence, as if it is waiting for us to talk again.

She breaks the silence first:”So what are we doing tonight Special Agent Gibbs?” “I am here protecting you, I don’t know what you are going to do.” A little grin escapes me and I cover it up with my coffee and take another sip.

“So you wouldn’t mind if I continue watching a movie?” As if I would ever mind hearing her laugh again. “Depends on the movie I guess. But I do prefer silence.” That is what gets her to grin at me.

“The brooding type, are we? Okay if that is what you prefer, I will need a notepad and a pencil.” I raise one eyebrow in question.

“I want to draw. Maybe I can even draw my attackers.” Something small washes over her face but it disappears as soon as it arrives. She pushes her lips together and closes her eyes a little longer than necessary. I watch her get her expressions under control for a second longer and then get up. Telling her I will see what I can do, I leave the room and go to the nurses station. The nurse on call eyes me up and down and says:”You can be my patient any day, baby. What do you need?” I chuckle a little. “Not a patient. I just need a notepad and a pencil for a patient of yours, Miss Morales.” “Thats too bad honey. I will get it for you.” She steps back for a bit before returning to the front desk and putting the stuff on the counter. “Now don’t think you can just come over here and ask for anything. I am not a butler, okay?” Nodding, I pick everything up and return to the room. Inside I let everything fall onto Agent Morales’ bed and sit back down. She stares at the notepad with a hollow look in her eye.

“Did you not want to draw, Morales?”

“Yeah, yeah sure.” Her voice was nothing more than a whisper as she picks up the pen. Her hand is shaking and her healthy fingers on her left hand grab into her blanket. The moment feels raw. Like something personal I should not see but also can’t look away from. I can see it in her eyes that she is not ready to confront her attackers like that. Even trying to remember right now has her zoning out. So I do something I rarely do, I delay the case. “You know you don’t need to draw them tonight. It is late, draw a flower or something.”

Her head snaps in my reaction and her expression changed into a mocking smile. “A flower?” I nod. “Who draws flowers? What kind of weapon do you carry?”

“That is a personal question, Morales.”

“Right. You have a government issued gun, NCIS, so probably a SIG-Sauer P228. And as a marine you of course follow those rules.” I pull my gun out of my holster and show it to her. Her grin spreads across her face. “See I was right. Now that I have seen it, I’m going to draw it.”

“You draw guns?” She just shrucks and starts pulling the pencil across the paper. Putting the gun away I ask:”How did you know I was a marine?”

“Took a guess. You can kind of tell that about you. Also Tony confirmed it. I am CIA what can I say, I like gathering intelligence.”

Chapter Text

Francesca
Sketching in silence was exactly what I needed right now. Focusing on something other than myself and doing something with my hands cleared my head. The whole scene feels almost domestic. The only sound filling the room is my pencil scraping on the paper and Gibbs just sits beside me watching the door while turning a coin in his hand. You‘d have to ignore the fact that we are in a Hospital, I do not know the man, just got tortured and he is here to protect me for the next 10 hours, to think it is domestic but yeah, cute scene. Even so, the silence feels comfortable. After I am about halfway done with my sketch, I lean back into the bed. My stiff back relaxes and pain slowly eases out of my muscles. Before I can help it a little groan escapes me. Gibbs just raises an eyebrow at me.

“I have backpain okay. Must be the age.” That gets him laughing.

“Oh yeah, 35 must be tough.”

“Hey, not everyone is built to be a marine, I have delicate bones.”

“Delicate bones would not get you into the navy and definitely not into the CIA. So you are just complaining.” I stare him down. Of course, I am aware that he is older than me. The grey hair gave it away. But disclosing why I really had backproblems went to far, for the little while I have known him.

“Yeah, then maybe because I was just tortured and tied to a really stiff chair.”

“Yeah well I give you that one. But not the age thing.” He takes another sip of his coffee. That cup must be endless.

“Are you telling me I should get to your age before I start talking about hurting? Or your number of injuries?”

“What do you know about my number of injuries?”

“Taking a guess again. Based on your military experience, field work and such. You also seem to be the risk taking type. Still you have not answered how old I need to be to complain about back problems?”

“Are you asking me how old I am, Morales?” He is teasing me and I feel like he is enjoying it. His eyes have a little spark in them when he is looking at me and his lips turn into a smug grin. “Maybe, what if I was?”

“Well, that is a rude thing to ask.”

“The longer you stall the older I will think you are, you know?”

“Really?” I just nod, answering his grin with one of my one. That one stings, because my cheek is pressing against my swollen eye but I let it stay there anyway.

“Since you asked so nicely-“ You could practically taste the sarcasm in his voice. “53.”

“What that so bad?”

“Yeah, revealing information to the CIA is always bad.” My smile falls. I know not everybody likes the CIA but our work is important. But I am not in the mood to argue, so I just go back to sketching. Now the silence feels heavy, almost deafening. He insulted me and I was not going to be the one to ease the tension. I was stubborn. So I just finish my sketch. The next time my eyes find the clock on the wall it is 12:15. Having finished the drawing and feeling drawn out from the day, I just throw the paper over to Gibbs and lay all the stuff on my nightstand. Without saying anything Gibbs observes me intently as I turn away from him and kill the nightlight leaving him just a little light over his chair. With a clipped “Good night” I close my eyes and try to sleep. Luckily the drawing calmed me enough, that sleep came fast and easy.

When I open my eyes again, I am back in the container bound to the chair. I struggle against my restraints, but they do not move this time. Slowly dread fills my chest. My heartbeat picks up and my breath gets shallow. I can’t see around me so I try to move. Suddenly a hand forcefully pulls my head back to the front. His wicked grin emerges from the darkness. I know that smile. I fear that smile. My legs want to start shaking but I do not let them. I will not show him fear again. “Here we are again, little marine. Can’t believe I get my chance with you again.” Everything inside me freezes. The fear of what is to come surrounding me. I want to speak but my mouth is too dry so I settle with glaring at him. His hand is still holding my face when he brings up a knife with his other hand and holds it against my throat. It is a threat, but I know it will not be that easy. My face remains emotionless and he studies me with a perverted kind of interest. Like a lion playing with its prey. “Nah that would be too easy. I know you will not show me your fear so easily. I guess I have to up my game then.” With the handle of his knife he punches me hard enough for me to see stars but not enough to pass out. This moment of disorientation is all he needed. He lets go of me and kneels before me. Slowly he rips my jeans open with his knife. Starting at my ankle he pushes the knife up and up. Of course I know what happens next. I take a deep breath and start picturing my dad hauling me around in childhood. Behind us is the little cabin we used to stay in, when he was home and I did not have school. I try to stay in this memory for as long as possible but the burning of his knife gliding through my flesh pulls me back. I grind my teeth because I do not want to give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream in pain. Appruptly, he pulls the knife away from my leg and I let go of the breath I have been holding. “Come on, marine. Let’s hear your voice.” His black eyes stare down at me. I have not noticed when he stood up again but I did not care. I try to stare back but when he plunges his knife in my hand resting on the chair, I close my eyes and scream out. The pain radiates through my arm and I can feel the warmth of the blood trickling down my fingers. “Now, thats more like it.” His face slowly starts moving towards me and I can see him more clearly now. The round but defined face. His shaven head and the collar of his olive green shirt. “See that is all I wanted, Morales. Just a little noise. Now that we got that, tell me. Where is your father?” “Dead.” I answer dryly. My breath speeds up from the pain in my hand and I am just waiting for the moment it goes numb. “That is not what I heard, so I think you are lying. Let me ask again: Were is your father?” He pulls the knife from my hand and a grunt escapes me. The flow of the blood runs faster now. “He. Is. Dead.” With a strong push against my chair he stands up straight again. I cannot see him anymore but I know he is there. I can hear his footsteps on the ground. “You are making this so hard on yourself. But that is fine for me. I was kind of hoping you were because I know just what you need to talk.” His grin comes into my vision again and the horror of the past returns to my chest. His left hand grips the waistband of my jeans and his right hand rips the knife straight through my jeans and underwear. As much as I try to conjure up any image of my dad right now, it does not work. “Now that is exactly how I like you.” Focusing on the pain in my hand is all I can do to not throw up right now. I can hear him step back but I just close my eyes so I do not have to see him. “I got through it once, I can do it again.” I repeat the phrase in my head like a mantra, preparing myself for what is to come. Without a warning I feel the burning of his hot blade against my pubic bone. My skin sizzles as he pushes the blade into my flesh. My teeth might break under the pressure I put on them, but I do not want to scream. “You are mine, little marine. I am just making sure you know that.” The pain starts traveling downwards as the draws a line on me with his knife. That was my breaking point. My eyes snap shut and I let out a gutteral scream. Something shakes my shoulders.

“Agent Morales!” I open my eyes again and stare right into two blue ones. Not black. The darkness slowly disappears around me and I realize that I was just dreaming. My breathing is still heavy as I sit up. Gibbs keeps is hand on my shoulder as push my hands together and against my eyes. It is then that i realize I have been crying in my sleep.

“Are you okay?” His voice is soft and almost silent.

“Yeah I am fine. Just a bad dream.” As the feeling in my body slowly returns so does the pain. Especially the pain in the scar on my leg.

“Must have been on hell of a bad dream.” I turn my head to Gibbs and look at him. There is concern on his face. I really do not like it when people look at me like that, because I always feel vulnerable and weak. Like I need saving. But I do not. I can save myself just fine.

“Could have been on hell of a good dream”, I joke but my awkward laugh does not transfer onto his face. The concern just seems to grow.

“Did not sound like a good dream, Morales.”

“How would you know how I sound when I have a really good dream?” He just shakes his head and stands up.

“You want me to get the nurse or anything? I think you have woken up the whole station.”

“No it is fine, I just need to wake up a little.” The next few minutes are spend in silence again. I take a sip, Gibbs observes me. I stretch my upper body and wince in pain, Gibbs observes me. I braid my hair, Gibbs observes me. After a few minutes I have had enough.

“Look I know you are here to protect me, but that only extends to me not dying. I can take care of everything else.” There was that familiar anger again. The warm, energizing heat of injustice.

“Never said that you can’t.” He leans back in his chair and takes another sip of coffee. His calm demeanor just makes me angrier.

“Yeah then why are you staring at me like I cant? Like I need observation or something?”

„I am just sitting here doing my job.“

„Oh really? Your job is to make sure no one walks through that door and kills me! So if you want to do your job so badly, go watch the door!“ My breath comes heavy as my voice gets louder and louder.

„I would, but the target I am protecting keeps screaming through the whole hospital.“ I glare at him, because I know he is right. I also know that I am never going to admit that to him. My nightmare is non of his business.

„Well, I am quiet now. Now stop trying to read me.“ His face looks almost as if he enjoyed me bickering, but I cant focus on that now without turning this into another fight. Silence engulfs us again and I am not going to be the one to break it. Still, sleeping is not an option. One thing I know about myself is that I cannot go to sleep after having a nightmare or it will just continue. So my only option was to draw again and thats what I do. I start with a few simple lines. A face shape. Then I just add some shadows here and there, adjust a few things. Afterwards I start with the eyes. A little burrowed in the skull. As I move the pencil across the paper everything else starts to fade away. In this moment I do not even know who I am drawing. I just know how to guide the pencil. The eyes get a deep grey color. No shine in them. The eyebrows begin just above the eye. They are neatly trimmed but not in a way that looks less masculine. As if in trance I finish my drawing. It could have taken hours or just minutes. I really do not know. But when I finish, I just keep staring at the paper and the black eyes are staring back.

Chapter Text

Gibbs
Watching Agent Morales get mad would be fun if she did not just scream in a way that makes your skin crawl. I have to believe she was reliving something from the last days but if she was, she is not talking about it. She is just sitting on her bed, being mad at me and sketching. Just this time she is not sketching a gun, it looks like she is drawing a face. It only takes her about 10 minutes and afterwards she just stares at it. For a few minutes I let her stare but then I have had enough. “Who is he?” My question startles her and in a reflex she turns the paper around. Her eyes dart over to me and she catches her lip between her teeth like she was contemplating what to tell me.

“Is he important to the case?”

“No. Just someone from my past.” I nod slowly taking another sip. She is holding back but I do not think it is something she would reveal now. I need more time for that or maybe Ziva could try to talk to her again. The rest of the shift is spent in silent. The nurses check out her injuries and bring her food but other than that the room stays in silence.

A day later it is my turn to go to the hospital again. But this time I am not in a good mood. There are no new leads in the case and even the background on Agent Morales revealed nothing interesting. It feels like everything we know is just plain unimportant. So again I walk through the hospital with my coffee in hand and storm into Agent Morales’ room. As I step into the room I notice that the bed was empty.

“Morning, boss”, DiNozzo stretches in the chair and begins to stand up. “It is 3 o’clock, DiNozzo.”

“Yeah but this case kind of blew my sleep schedule.”

“Where is Agent Morales?” Just as I have asked the question the door of the bathroom opens and Agent Morales walks out. She is still drying her hair with a towel in her hand when she sees me. Her face immediately hardens as if to protect herself from me. Well that is going to be one hell of a shift.

“Good bye Tony.” Her voice vibrates through me as her eyes find mine. Her cold stare was a grand contrast to the warmth of her dark brown warm eyes.

“Good bye, France.” Tony walks by us out of the door and closes it behind him. Now it was just the two of us in the hospital room again. Her eyes stay glued to
mine and I did not want to look away.

“Why do you hate me?” Her voice slices through the silence and takes me completely off guard.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Yeah then why do you keep on insulting my work?”

“Your work?”

“The CIA. You keep making comments about it.”

“I have not had good experiences with the CIA in the past.” I mean that was an understatement but I do not the think the details would interest her.

“But that does not mean I hate you. Just have some problems with your employers.“
I do not know if she does not believe me or if she is just unsure what to do with my honesty. But she stays silent for a while and then goes back to sit on her bed. Now is the first time I really take her in. She changed into joggers and cut off hoodie. This left a little of her stomach exposed and showed me the bruises which painted it blue and purple. It looked really painful. Not wanting to ogle her, I tear away my eyes from her stomach and take my place in the chair next to the hospital bed again. She braids her long black hair again and winces in pain every time she has to use her left hand, which was very often. After she is about halfway done I cannot take it anymore: „If it hurts you that much, just don‘t braid your hair.“

„Well it is the only way my head doesn’t feel like a cement brick, so if you don’t want me to be in pain you do it.“

„Is that a serious request?“ Now she turns her full body to me and raises one of her eyebrow. My signature move. She eyes me up and down like she is trying to ascertain if I was serious. As her eyes wander down my body it feels like her eyes were touching me.

„If my pain bothers you that much yeah, than it is a request.“ Her lips turn into a grin and I feel like I see a light twinkle in her eye I have not seen before. Like she is challenging me. And I have every intention of rising to the challenge.

„Okay turn around.“

„You are serious?“ Now it is my turn to grin, she really did not think I would do it. I gesture her to turn around and she follows my orders hesitantly. I put one knee on the hospital bed to steady myself and take the braid from her hands. Her hair feels soft and thick in my hands. I take the strands and pull them above one another like I did when Kelly was still alive. You cannot be a good father to a little girl if you cannot do her hair. So I learned from Shannon. Kelly always loved it when I did her hair and doing it now for Agent Morales brought back memories. When I am done I clear my throat and step back from the bed. Like she was in deep that, Agent Morales touches the braid and slowly guides her healthy fingers around it. It takes her a while to thank me and sit back on the bed.

„Where did you learn to do that? You have a daughter?“ A pain shoots through my chest just like every time someone mentions Kelly. Losing a child is something you never recover from. You learn to live with it but it is never the same again.

„Used to.“ To cover the pain in my face I take a sip of my coffee and let the bitterness coat my tongue. When I look up I expect to find pity in Agent Morales‘ eyes but I just find suprise in them.

„I am sorry, Agent Gibbs. But thank you for telling me.“ Now I am the one taken aback.

„Your thanking me? For what?“ Instinctively she pulls her shoulders up only to grimace in pain when she does.

„I don‘t know. That’s personal stuff and telling it must not be so easy so I am grateful you told me.“ Nobody ever thanked me for telling them about my life. They are always suprised or demand my openness. But it needs to be earned. It is not something that is one sided. I felt like Agent Morales understood that. And in a way that made me feel closer to her. Because I do not know what to say she is the first to speak again. „I lost my father when I was twenty. I know it is not the same, but it still hurts everytime I think the fact that he was not there when I graduated college. And i realize those are moments you did not get to have either, so I am sorry. It hurts from both sides.“ I just nod.

„Yeah, I am sorry for you, too.“

„Thanks, but it was a long time ago.“

„Still it never stops hurting.“

„No, no it doesn’t.“

We fall into silence again. Her eyes find mine and her lips pull into a small smile. There is the same strength in them that I saw in the medical wing on the navy ship. But this time it feels softer. It feels like this strength came from overcoming pain not from being able to avoid it. For me, that is real strength. If you never have to face real pain and adversity you do not know how strong you really are. Agent Morales clearly had to face a lot of difficult situations, just the last few days alone. This strength deserves respect and I feel like she demands respect from everyone who faces her. Rightfully so. We hold eye contact for a few moments until I have to smile again. An easy smile finds my lips. I do not smile like this often, the kind of smile you cannot ignore. The kind that is only meant for the person who elicits it from you. I clear my throat and break the eye contact. Before this gets more of an heart to heart I change the subject: “How are your injuries?”

“They are okay, some better some worse. The concussion is a bitch, as are the ribs. But my fingers aren’t as bad if I don’t try to do something delicate.”

“Like braiding your hair.”

“Exactly.”

“Are the painkillers helping?”

“Oh well I am not taking any right now.”

“What?” I raise one eyebrow again and stare at her in disbelief. That kind of injuries need to be treated with painkillers.

“I am not taking any. I got offered some, don’t get me wrong. But I want to keep that as a last resort and right now it is manageable. Also they make me feel all fuzzy and affect my dreams, as you have noticed.” Honestly, I kind of get it, but she also has no reason to keep her head clear. Her only mission is to get better.

“You don’t have to show people you are strong by enduring your injuries without pain medication. We already know you are strong otherwise you would not have made it onto that ship.” I knew I made a mistake when her lips spread into a wide grin.

“So you think I am strong?” I role my eyes. Clearly she is amused by me complimenting her.

“Are you not?”

“I am, I just heard from your team that you are not the complimenting type. So you saying you admire my strength -“

“I never said admire.”

“Basically.” I pinch the bridge of my nose with to fingers and take a sip of coffee again. I cannot help but laugh slightly and shake my head.

“Now I have stunned you into silence. That is not the victory I wanted but I settle for you admiring my strength.” Her grin still rests on her face and it gives me the chance to really look at her face again. Her eyes are less swollen and the blue has faded a little bit. Some spots have turned green but nevertheless it looked less beaten up. The split in her full lips seems to heal fine. My eyes stay on her lips because she chooses the moment I look at them to lose her grin and lick across her lower lip, catching it between her teeth for a second. A sudden surge of energy pulses through me and I have to sit up in my chair. She has to know what she is doing. I take my free hand and push it through my hair and then look up at her. Now it is her turn to clear her throat and shuffle sightly on the bed and my turn to grin. “Just fyi” she starts looking at her hands again. “The doctor’s said I need to be in the hospital for one more day to monitore my concussion, rips and the slash across my leg, but afterwards I can go home.”

“Okay, I will talk with Agent Mueller about a protective detail for you.” Her head snaps around to look at me and I am faced with a completely different attitude and facial expression. She looks angry and her voice is way to calm for the wild energy surrounding her right now:”I don’t think that is necessary.”

“Not necessary?” She nods and I lean forward in my chair.

“What happens if the people who took you in the first place come back to finish the job? Do you really think you can protect yourself properly with your injuries? And if you cant then you’ll be dead and I will never find out who killed the two marines. So yeah, Agent Morales, it is necessary.” She glares and me and crosses her arms.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want me dying to mess up your case, Special Agent Gibbs.” I can tell that she is hurt. She is most likely also conflicted about not being independent and the trauma she suffered is still fresh. But I do not have time to stroke her ego right now. I have to protect her and my case. Not her feelings. Before I can say anything to her, her doctor comes in again to check on her injuries. It seems like she is healing well and nothing seems to be a bigger problem after all. The doctor urges her to take the pain meds again and leaves a few on her nightstand. As soon as he leaves Agent Morales releases a deep breath and lets her head fall back into her pillow. Her eyes are squeezed shut and she grinds her teeth. That is the moment I have had enough of her bullshit. Standing up, I lean over the bed and onto my arms. Positioning myself face near her ear, I whisper:”Take the damn pain medication.” She turns her head towards me and suddenly we are so close that our noses are almost touching. It catches me off guard but I refuse to move, when she stares me down.

“Fine, Special Agent Gibbs.” Without breaking the eye contact she reaches behind herself, takes a pill, her water bottle and takes it.

“You satisfied?” She turns her head a little but still looks me right in the eyes. I shake my head and pull away to sit down again. As I sit down I keep my eyes on her. Her head is directed to the front, eyes closed. I exhale loudly and let my head fall back. This is getting difficult. She was fighting me at every chance and I get, I would too. But I am just trying to get the people who want to harm her and if she cannot follow orders then we would have to cooperate.

Chapter Text

Francesca
Gibbs got under my skin and for whatever reason I seem to have very combative reaction to him. I know I am not making things easier right now, but I am not a person to just give up control. Right now all my feelings were going crazy. Guilt over being difficult, angry at my injuries, afraid of future nightmares, anxious about the future, in pain and of course just emotionally exhausted. But before I can put any of my guilt into words, Gibbs talks again:”Look, this is not going to be a quick case. And fighting about every little detail is not going to help. So if you do not want to follow orders, we are going to have to cooperate. What does it take for you to do that?” I expected him to scold me, to be angry and to force me to follow his orders. But he just did the exact opposite. I sigh.

“Not much, just talk to me before you decide anything.” I look at him just to see him nod.

“But I need to know that you follow the decision we come to and of course in a dangerous situation, you do need to follow my orders.”

“I can respect that.” I smile tentatively and massage my hands.Gibbs moves forward and puts his weight on his elbows.

“So, what do you need so we can protect you?” Closing my eyes for a second, I think about what would make me the most comfortable. “For one, I want to go back to my own apartment. You can protect me there, but I need to be able to get into my routine again.” Gibbs nods. “And also I want to be there when you talk to Mueller.” There is a moment of silence between us and then he nods again.

“I was actually going to call him today, to figure out how we should handle your security detail. I would guess the CIA would protect its own.”

“Better now than later, right?” Gibbs leans back and sips his coffee again.

“Right, I do all the talking, you keep yourself out of this.” Now I nod. Gibbs takes his phone out and dials Muellers number. Immediatly my pulls accelerates. Mueller was not exactly caring and he could be impossible, but I am more scared of what he would say about me to Gibbs and I do not want them to think less of me now. The phone rings a few times before Mueller picks up.

“Mueller.”

“Agent Mueller it is Special Agent Gibbs. Agent Morales is being released from the hospital tomorrow, how do you want to handle the security detail?”

“We will not be handling it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well Agent Gibbs, Agent Morales probably released sensitive information about CIA investigations to her captors and while we appreciate the difficult situation -„

„Difficult?“

„Her future with the CIA right now is unsure. We cannot abide leaks. I am sorry about that, Agent Gibbs, but we have to protect national security.“ I was too stunned to speak. My future with the CIA is unsure? I never released any information and Mueller knew that. My mouth opens to defend myself but Gibbs holds up his hand to stop me.

„Are you telling me that you told your superiors that she revealed sensitive information under torture, despite Agent Morales telling you she did not?“

„The investigation is still pending if she did.“

„You do not trust your own team? She told you she held strong under torture and all you do is question her? And now her life may still be in danger but you refuse to protect her?“ Gibbs voice is getting louder and gets a little edge to it. Now, I was stunned for the second time in this conversation. For whatever reason, I did not expect Gibbs to defend me. But he does and he does so ferociously. Because of that , I do not feel like defending myself. Mueller sighs through the phone and continues:“It is not that easy, Agent Gibbs. And I believe you have the means to protect your witness, so no need for us to get involved.“ After that he hangs up. Gibbs eyes find mine looking for a reaction. I just shrug as he says:„You have a really bad boss, Francesca.“ Then he stands up and starts to pace in front of my bed. I smile again. Everytime I do that my face hurts but I do not care, smiling feels good. Even if it hurts.

„That is the first time you used my first name, Leroy.“ His laugh fills the room but disappears quickly.

„Yeah, well you almost got fired and your boss badmouthed you to the brass; I think a first name feels more personal in this situation.“ My smile falls. I have not even thought about it that far. What if Mueller just ruined my career I worked so hard for? My heart seems to fall into an endless pit. I can not restart my whole life again. Once again a man has the audacity to ruin my life. „Yeah well, when you think it can’t get any worse, it does.“ I let my head fall into the pillow as Muellers words play again in my head. If he is correct, I have just been abandoned. The agency I laid my trust in, my life, has just kicked me to the curb on the word of one man who was not even there. My life feels like it just ripped at the seems. At least I was right in not wanting to take the pain medication. Tears start to form in my eyes and threatened to fall. I press my eyes close but I can still feel Gibbs‘ eyes on me. When even shutting my eyes hard does not work, I press my palms into my eyes again.

„You can cry, you know.“ Gibbs voice was closer to me now. Opening my eyes I see him crouching next to the bed I am laying on and looking at me with caring blue eyes.

„I don‘t cry. Like ever, this is the pills.“

„Even if that were true, you can still let it out.“ Just as he says is tears start to fall down my face. They do so silently, as I grief for what that men took from me. Gibbs hands me a tissue and I thank him silently.

„Get some rest, Morales. You need it.“ He stands up and walks towards the door.

„I am going to arrange for you to be protected by NCIS and we will keep you safe I promise.“ I nod and then turn away from the door. As he starts to close the door behind him, I yell out. „Gibbs!“ He comes into my view again.

„Please do not go into my apartment before I am there. You can check everything out when I am there.“

„I am sorry, Agent Morales, but we were already there. It looks like you were abducted from your place, so we checked it out as a crime scene. When we go back tomorrow you won’t even notice we were there.“ Gibbs closes the door behind me and my face falls into the pillow as the last sense of security is taken away from me. Slowly more tears fall. I can practically feel my old life being ripped from m grasp. I can feel my faith in a good ending slowly fading away, as more tears hit the pillow.

Yesterday could not have gone worse but at least I get to leave the hospital today. After the doctor checked me out again, McGee brought me a bag with a few new clothes which I greatly appreciate. Changing into a pair of loose cargo pants and a hoodie made me feel better. Just being in my normal clothes felt like something was getting better. I spent the ride back to my place in silence dealing with my anxiety; would my apartment look any different? Feel any different? Would I feel safe again? At home? Taking a deep breath, I look out the window to tune out the chatter of the NCIS Agents in the car. The closer we get to my apartment the harder I feel my heart beating against my chest. I close my eyes trying to calm my breathing but it only works on the surface. Inside I am still a mess and I only open my eyes again as the car stops in front of my apartment.

„Welcome home, France.“ Without acknowledging Tonys comment I get out of the car with my bag and walk towards the door. Right now I have tunnel vision. I don‘t know how fast I walk up the stairs, I don‘t know where all the Agents are that brought me here, I just know that I need to get to my apartment as soon as possible. Even if that was my first instinct, I am frozen in front of my door. The keys in my hand are standing still in front of my lock.

„Are you not going to go in?“ My whole body twitches as I notice Gibbs next to me. Nodding I put my keys into the lock and open the door. As I take in my apartment a sense of belonging warms me. No memories of being taken come back to me. Thats a plus. „Starting to remember anything, Agent Morales?“

„No nothing.“ McGee intervenes the conversation:“I wouldn‘t hope for anything to come back either. Abby analyzed some of your blood you lost on your run and found a date-rape drug in your system. That is probably how they got you. We are looking into how you injested the drug.“

„Okay, thank you.“ My answer is silent and my whole body language is still. In some way I am relieved I would not remember anything. No memories meant no fear and of course no nightmares. At least no additional ones. As I put my bag down on the couch and look around my open living room, I notice something in my bookcases, which are lining the back of the room and around the window.

„Where are the rest of my books?“ That gets my energy going. I am missing a number of important books and that is something I cannot accept. McGee falters.

„What do you mean?“

„There are a number of books missing! Where are they?“

„They were broken in the abduction. So they are in evidence.“

„Seriously?“ Ziva nods. Well, now I am angry. Shitass kidnappers steal my job, my emotional strength and now my fucking books. Grunting I take my bag again and take it into my bedroom. The bed is ruffled like I just left it, like nothing happened. I throw my bag on the bed like I did many times before just to wince in pain. Those ribs are going to kill me. I hear the door open and turn around. Gibbs is standing in the door, examining me.

„The apartment is clear, for now. Ziva is going to stay for you until I take over for the night shift. DiNozzo and McGee will be back afterwards.“

„Okay, thank you, Gibbs.“ Nodding he leaves me alone in my room again. Suddenly all my strength leaves my body and all I can do is lay on my bed to sleep.

Waking up after another - but less intense and without any black eyes - nightmare about the container was less bad than expected. To sleep in my own bed really did have some benefits. Getting my phone for the first time in a few days, I see that it is flooded from messages from my mum and my best friend Katie. I just text them that I am okay and stand up again to walk to the kitchen. My whole body feels weak, like I am going to get sick. As I enter my living area again I see Ziva walking along my bookshelves browsing. „I really love your book collection. I am an avid reader myself but never could collect them because of my job.“

„Yeah that is the good thing about the CIA, you always come back home somehow. You can borrow some while you are here if you want. I highly recommend the romance ones.“ She turns to face me with a grin on her face. „Really?“

„Yep, let‘s you turn off your head for a while.“

„That is a good thing for women like us.“ My hand stops mid air. „Women like us?“

„You know, highly trained, smart, independent. We always have some kind of responsibility or weight on our shoulders. So we need to relax from time to time.“ I take a sip and chew on what she just said. What she just did. She put us on the same level, on the same team. „Do you really think we are similar?“

„Yes, very.“ The warm sense of kinship, of connection blooms in my chest and my lips curve up to smile. Ziva does not see it because she is turned to my books again, but I doubt she knows how much that meant to me. It was good to feel connected again, after being thrown out by the agency. The same agency I was going to be loyal to for a long time. But then again, loyalty cannot just be one sided.

Chapter Text

Gibbs
As I get ready for my shift as the protective detail for Agent Morales, I think about how to approach the subject of the information the kidnappers tried to get. Wanting to keep things for yourself is one thing, but by doing that she is actively sabotaging the investigation. Without motive we do not know where to look. But even on my way to the apartment cannot come up with a right way to talk to her about it. So I knock on the door with absolutely no clue. Ziva opens the door with a little smile and lets me into the apartment. As I walk in I see Agent Morales standing in the kitchen in a comfortable looking outfit and cooking a meal. From what I can smell it is some kind of vegetable. She waves at me shortly and that proceeds to focus on the food in the pan. „Everything alright?“ Ziva nods. „Nothing interesting, everything was quiet.“

„Alright, then go home and get some rest.“

„Okay, good night, Gibbs!“ After Ziva leaves I realize, that soft music is playing and the whole living room is bathed in the soft evening sun. „I hope you like stir fried vegetables with rice.“

„Sure, why not.“ Morales put the food on two plates and put it in front of me. A peace offering of some kind. An attempt for a night without any conflict between us. As we sit at her kitchen island and eat the food she prepared, it almost feels like we are on a date. Nevertheless I do not let that thought linger too long in my mind.

„So how are you doing today?“ She stops eating for a bit and looks down at her food. „I am okay, still in pain but you know living.“ I nod. „Look, we have to talk about your kidnapping.“ The fork in her hand falls down onto the plate. „Do we really?“

„You now we do. As a CIA Agent you know we need all the information we can get to find out who did this.“ I let that linger between us. As if readying herself for the conversation she takes a deep breath and rests her forehead on one of her fists. „Okay, ask.“ Her head lifts again and she looks me deep in the eyes.

„What did they want from you?“ Silence stretches between us. The music is still going in the background and feels like it is getting louder the longer she stays quiet. Her lips are pressed together but her eyes are still on me.

„They-„ Her voice shakes and she takes a deep breath again. „They wanted to know where my dad is.“ That caught me off guard.

„Your dad who is dead?“

„Yeah. Exactly. That is why I did not say anything because it was ludicrous. I was there when they buried him. I had to arrange myself with the fact that my father is dead and now some people come dragging it up again.“ I look back into her dark brown eyes which stare at me with storms raging inside them. „We will look into it. But you can‘t think of a reason why they would think he was still alive?“ She just shakes her head and breaks the eye contact we held until now. Now she lets her fork glide over the last pieces of rice which she did not eat. We continue to eat in silence. I know I should question her more but I just have a feeling that she was honest. Her honest emotionality makes believing her very easy and even though I have no grounds to do it, I trust her. Not completely, but enough. After we finished and tidied up Agent Morales sits down on the couch and takes a deep breath. „So, Agent Morales, you said you wanted to get back into routine. What would that look like now?“ I was honestly curious but I also wanted to keep her out of her own head.

„Well, I don’t exactly have a routine for what to do after you got kidnapped and went to the hospital.“ I laugh a little at her snark. It was good to know she did not loose her humor. „But normally I would have done a workout and showered, then of course food and afterwards.“ She trails off and catches her lip between her teeth again. Still there was a faint smile on her lips.

„Afterwards?“

„I would relax.“ Her tone indicated that she clearly had a clear imagine in her mind of what „relaxing“ entailed but just does not want to share. I lean back into the wing chair next the sofa and grin. „Aah, relaxing.“ She just nods and looks back at her bookshelves. The rest of the evening was spent with her reading on the couch and me sitting on the chair reading my own book. Some time later Agent Morales goes to sleep and I am left alone in her living room. While she is still in the bathroom, I quickly use her coffee machine so I have enough to get me through the night. As walk back to the sofa Agent Morales emerges from her bedroom with a pillow and blanket. „Here for the night.“ I take the bedding with a small smile and put it on the sofa. Without the pillow covering her, I can see what she was wearing now. Her upper body is covered in a large tee concealing her strong frame and her long legs are covered in s loose hanging jogger. It looks cute somehow. She wishes me good night and leaves me for the night. With a sigh I lay down on the couch with my coffee and start reading again. The night is quiet nothing really happens until 2 am when I hear Agent Morales scream out in her room. On instinct I jump up and run with my gun drawn to her bedroom. As I enter the room I can see her thrashing under her blanket, still asleep. Silently I holster my gun and walk up to her. Trying to wake her up, I put a hand on her shoulder. That is all that is needed for her eyes to fly open and her hand to fly out, trying to punch me. Quickly I catch her wrist and let it stay in the air. Her eyes are full of fear and her chest is rising quickly. „Sorry.“ Her small voice breaks the silence and she slowly puts her arm down. „It is alright.“ My gaze washes over her body to look for injuries but she seems fine, objectively speaking. Mentally she was definitely not fine. Her breath evens out and her eyes find mine again. „I am going to get you a glass of water.“ Still in her thoughts she stares ahead and nods. She really did not look. Whatever she dreamed about really haunted her. My belief is that she is not dreaming, she is remembering, reliving. As I get a glas from the cupboard, I hear her footsteps behind me. As an answer to my questioning look she just says:“I need to get out of my bed for a while.“ Stopping next to me, she takes the glas from me and jumps to sit on the counter. Looks like she changed before going to sleep because her legs are bare now and she seems to only wear a pair of shorts. As she drinks and looks around the room I watch her.

„Stop it.“

„Stop what?“

„Watching my like I might fall apart.“ Her voice is soft but I get that she just wants to feel strong again. „I am not watching like you might fall apart.“

„No? Then why are you watching me like that.“

„Because maybe if I wait long enough you will tell me what you are dreaming about.“ She lets out a short laugh and jumps down to stand in front of me. „Now that is sweet, but let a girl have some secrets.“ We sit down in her living room again just like in the evening. As I sit down on the chair again, she lays under the covers I just laid in. Just as I pick up my book to read again, I hear her say:“Can we talk about something?“

„About what?“

„Anything, I just need something to take my mind of everything.“ She looks up at me from her pillow with big eyes, that have the potential to get me to do almost everything. „How did you start to draw?“

„I really liked in school and I just kept practicing. I also noticed that it was almost always a good gift and because I spent to much money on books, I could gift pictures to my friends.“ I laugh. „Plus it relaxed me, gets me to focus on a single thing, a single sheet of paper and an image in my mind. That was always great.“ You can hear the smile in her voice and that alone brings me to smile again.

„Yeah I get that.“

„You paint as well?“

„No not really.“

„Come on, Gibbs. Don’t make me ask all the questions!“

„Okay, okay. I like to build things with wood. Boats and stuff. Sometimes they need some paint jobs and sometimes I carve somethings into my work and that sometimes needs a little paint.“

„Ah, very manly.“ She turns to the side and closes her eyes. „Yeah, I learned that from my dad and his best friend. I have a built a few boats in my days.“ Her breathing evens out. „Boats?“

„Yeah. Three to be exact. It is always fun. Also of course a very good gift.“ I am looking at her again and it seems like she fell asleep. I smile to myself and take out my book to read again. If this is going to be a daily thing we are going to have problems. For one frequent nightmares are terrible for her already bad mental state. Second this is going to make working with her much more difficult when she is fighting with herself the whole time. Third, she has to take her psychological evaluation soon and if she fails it, it gives Mueller so much power. My eyes find her face again and for once she looks at peace. A few strands of hair came loose from her braid and fell into her face but suits her. Her long lashes lay still on her skin and her body is tucked tight under her blanket. The only thing visible is her broken hand hanging out of the blanket and off the sofa. I smile. She really is beautiful. No question about it, DiNozzo has definitely noticed that. He even calls her by a nickname. A sour feeling rises up in my stomach. Jealousy. DiNozzo is way more age then I would be. Besides I do not get personally involved in cases. That is rule 10 and I do not intend to break it. But I never really had good judgment about women after Shannon. So why would it stop now.

The rest of the night goes smoothly with Francesca sleeping quietly on the sofa. Around 6 am the first rays of sunshine get through the light curtains and fall onto her face. Her dark hair gets a warm glow and her bruises shine through the skin. I take another sip of coffee and close my eyes again. Staying awake through the night may not be difficult if you have something to do, but having to be quiet and awake really is challenging. I only open my eyes again when I hear the popping of joints on the couch. „Sleeping on the job?“ Her voice is soft and mocking but I do not blame her. I kind of like the bickering. „Just closing my eyes, Agent Morales. Your weak bones again?“ She sits up and grimaces in pain.

„Old and new injuries don’t match so well.“ I just nod and let her wake up. Taking her healthy hand through her hair she looks around in confusion. It only takes her a few seconds to piece the night together again. Sighing she puts her feet on the floor, giving me a view of her wound on the right leg. The stitches are holding together the flesh above her knee and scab is covering the inside of her leg. As she stands up she winces in pain. Again. I hear her murmur to herself:“Fucking fucks.“ Now I really got to laugh. After everything they did to her, she calls them „fucking fucks.“ Her head spins around and she glares at me.

„What?“

„Nothing, just never heard you swear before.“

„My father was a Seal and I was in the Navy, you bet I can swear like the best of them.“ I grin wider.

„Wouldn’t doubt it, Marine.“ Something small almost undetectable rushes across her face but she catches herself and smiles. After she turns away to get herself ready I make a mental note not to call her that again and to ask her about that. While I have a feeling that I get her on a basic level, how she ticks, how she operates, I know nothing about which buttons do what. I barely know anything about her. She keeps it all very hidden. Maybe finding out what she is hiding has nothing to do with her attack but it did peak my interest.

Chapter Text

Francesca
Waking up with Special Agent Gibbs’ face being the first thing I see is something I could really get used to. But I should not. Because this is temporary and he is only here because he has to. But I can’t fault myself, I always had a thing for rugged heroes and Gibbs clearly is one. A great one. Sighing I close the bathroom door and beginn inspecting my wounds. Everything seemed to heal fine, but as I put the healing creme on my leg wound flashbacks started. The higher I went with my hand the more I saw my attackers face in front of me. The more I felt the terror again. Still, I pushed through. Taking deep breaths I hold myself steady on the sink. This needs to stop. Without going through my normal routine, I rush into the living room and get my stuff to draw. This time I do not need water colors, I just need a pencil and some charcoal. Somewhere in the back of my mind I hear Gibbs talking to me but it does not even enter my consciousness. With to much force than necessary I put the drawing pad on my easel and start drawing. My strokes are violent and forceful. I cannot help it. I need him out of my head. He already was etched into my body, I do not need another man haunting me. I would no allow him to. Drawing him was exhausting. Firstly, because I drew with such force but secondly because I was breathing shallowly the whole time. Like he was clinging to my lungs not wanting to be put on the paper. But I would put him there. When I am done my fingers are a mess. Everything was dark from shading the face. Looking at the paper, made my proud and horrified at the same time. Proud, because it was a damn good likeness. Horrified, because this man tortured me without mercy and now I kind of look at him again. Pulling the paper from the pad I give it to Agent Gibbs who is standing beside me. “This is the man who tortured me.” As I walk to the bathroom again, he asks me if I am okay.

“Yeah, fine” is all I say, as I pull the bathroom door close behind me. I force myself to get ready like I normally do. Short shower, brush teeth, wash the face and then to the bedroom to change. That is were I face my first issue. I have nothing to do. I do not know what to wear if I do not need to do anything. So I just put on what I would if I would go to the gym. A gym leggins and a hoodie with a shirt under it. Except as soon as I took my first step, the seam of the leggings started to clash with my scar. Frustrated I put on my a soft dress trouser, that looked more put together than it felt. I was close to damning the whole day, when I step into the kitchen and see Gibbs cooking on the stove. “What are you doing?”

“Just making some scrambled eggs.”

“Why?” He turns around to look at me. “Well, I got to eat and so do you.” Nodding I take a seat in front of my kitchen island again. Gibbs already put some vegetables and fruit from my fridge on the island.

“Can you get the coffee, please?” Too stunned to answer him I take the mugs from their place under the coffee machine and put them on the island next to the now filled plates. Even though Gibbs sits down and begins to eat I am still to stunned to realize what he just did.

“What? Just eat you need it.”

“Why did you do this?” Putting his fork down is eyes cage mine again. “Like I said, we both needed to eat. Plus it is not that big of a deal, it is just breakfast.” He breaks the eye contact and I start to eat. Although Gibbs might not think it is a big deal, it is to me. He went out of his way to do something nice for me, even if he did not need to. I do not take that lightly. Without me realizing I begin to like him more and more, which is not a good thing in the long run. For now though getting along well is a good thing. If that is all it is. As a thank you I offer him a piece of information about myself. “My nightmares are about me getting tortured again. They want to know where my dad is but I can’t tell them. The pain just feels so real. It is terrifying.” His icy blue eyes snap up at me and he looks at me deeply.

“They will go away, I promise. But you have to remember you got out. You survived.” I nod, my mouth suddenly very dry.

“Thank you.” He mirrors my response in the hospital room and I smile. Clearly me thanking him meant a lot to him and I am glad that I could give something back.

Some time later, Gibbs changes shifts with Tony. Even though Tony flirts with me shamelessly I kind of like him. He is fun to be around. Easy to be around. Because there is nothing else to do I am standing in front of my easel again. This time I draw one of my dads old guns. This one I can recall from memory because if I saw this, I knew my dad had to go back to fight. Through the silence of the room Tony asks:”Who is that?” I look around and see that he is reaching out to touch a painting hanging on one of the walls sectioning the living space and kitchen.

“Tony be careful with that, it is important.” His hand suddenly pull back. “Oh sorry.”

“It is fine. That is sappho, my first girlfriend drew it for me.”

“Your what now?” I laugh at his expression. Looks like I totally blindsided him. “Yes, Tony, my first girlfriend.”

“Soo you are into girls, that is interesting, certainly good for the-“

“Stop picturing it!” Now he laughs. “So me flirting with you really is hopeless.”

“Yes but not because I am not into men.” His expression changes from interested to questioning. “I am bisexual, so I am attracted to both men and women. But, and now that is not an insult because all my ex-boyfriends were assholes, you are not exactly my type.” Shocked he takes a few steps towards me.

“What do you mean? I am everyone’s type!” I do not know if he is playing like he does not understand the concept of someone not liking him or if he is truly taken aback.

“Not mine, sorry. You are a little young for me.”

“We are almost the same age. I am two years older than you.” I just look him at him and wait for him to understand.

“Aaah, so you like them older. Okay, I get it. So how do you like our loyal leader, Agent Gibbs?” Feeling exposed I start drawing again. “I like him fine.” My voice stays strong but the voice in my head laughs. Gibbs is hot and me liking him fine is an understatement, but I do not want to be mocked by Tony. I see him grinning in my peripheral.

“Okay, okay. I get it. You have the hots for Gibbs.” I suck in a breath. “I do not!” I take a pillow from my sofa and throw it at Tony. That just makes him laugh.

“Oh yeah, that is definitely the action of someone who is not lying.” My response is just an eye roll and I keep on drawing. I am so going to pay for that later. But you know the best defense is offense.

“So what is going on between you and Ziva?” His grin falls. “What? Nothing we are just friends.”

“Seems a little different to mean. You know take it from me, I am getting a bisexual vibe from her, too.” I could see I just put his whole world upside down. “Ziva? You think.” I nod, grinning.

“Ziva and another woman”, he whispers to himself. “Tony, please stop picturing that either. That is not really nice. Or at least don’t picture it while you are with me. You are shameless as it is, but you horny is going to be something different entirely.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He bites his teeth together with a loud sound and I just laugh. That is something he is good at too. Making people laugh. “But seriously it is cool right? Me liking women?”

“Yeah sure. I mean hey, if someone gets finding women hot it is me.” “That is true.”

As the clock ticks down toward the evening I get more and more anxious. Not because McGee is not capable of protecting me. But because I might have another nightmare again and I do not want to bother him with it. Plus, there were enough people who heard my scream like that. I do not need to add another. At 10 pm sharp someone knocks on the door. Tony goes to open it and instead of McGee, Gibbs walks through the door. “Boss, what are you doing here?”

“McGee is still tracking the kidnapper down, so I took his shift. You go help him.” They say their goodbyes and I just wrestle with the disappointing feeling in my chest. Was it wrong to hope Gibbs took his shift because he liked me? No, but it was stupid and juvenile. I let the last of my pizza fall back onto my plate and lean back into ground. “

What are you doing sitting on the ground?”, is the first thing Gibbs says to me. “Well first I did some stretching and then I ate. Did not want to get up and I have been sitting on the couch all day.” He just nods and lets his coat fall onto one of the chairs next to the kitchen island.

“So how are you planning on surviving another night on the chair?” He holds up his coffee to me and I laugh.

“Someday those are going to stop working.”

“I doubt it but thank you. I also got a few hours of sleep before my shift so I am all rested. Mind if I check around a little?”

“We were home all day but go for it.” Watching Gibbs snoop around my place made me anxious. What if he finds something weird? Do I have weird stuff? No, but he may think I do. When he comes back and tells me everything is all right, I offer him the pizza we left on the counter for him. He takes a piece and sits on the ground in front of me. Somehow I found that very amusing.

“What is so funny?”

“You sitting on the floor.”

“Why because I am old?” He grins at me.

“No! Just I don’t know. I cant really describe why.”

“Ah, that is the best reason.” His eyes sparkle a bit and I have to swallow a lump in my throat. He really is too pretty for his own good. To distract myself from his face, I pull some the cars Tony and I played with and put them between us.

“Want to play some cards?” Gibbs takes the card from me and we begin to play. We spend the evening like that. When I feel my bones getting heavy I excuse myself and go to bed. Being out of Gibbs’ company felt weird. The normal nervousness of being around someone I find attractive disappears but so does a sense of safety. I get myself ready for bed and fall into the comfort of my bed. Nevertheless, a sense of unsteadiness surrounds me. A nervousness I cannot shake. I keep thinking about the nightmares and the terror I will likely feel again. The nervousness inside reflects onto the outside as I keep turning around in my bed. After about an hour I put my pride away and step back into the living room. Gibbs is sitting in the kitchen with a coffee and a file. “Everything alright?” He looks up over his glasses, which is not supposed to look that good.

“What are you reading?”

“A file on your kidnapper. The ID we found is an alias, though. I am trying to find anything that will lead us to his real name.” I just nod. “Would you mind if I sleep on the couch again?” Slowly he pulls his glasses from his nose and looks at me again. „No, go for it. But why?“ „Just can‘t sleep and I always fall asleep easier on the couch.“ Without another word he goes back to his file and I lay down on the couch. The nervousness slowly disappears as I listen to the shuffle of the paper in Gibbs‘ file. That alone helps me fall asleep faster than I thought I would.

Opening my eyes I feel like my head is going to explode. Looking around me I see I am in some dark bedroom. It sure as hell is not mine. I close my eyes and open them again, just to see two black eyes looking at me again. His hand grabs my face again as the other slowly travels over my body. Goosebumps break out and I struggle to get away from him. I cannot because my hands are bound behind my back and his knees are digging into my thighs. „You are squirming for me, little marine, aren‘t you?“ I shake my head. His hand gropes my breast and everything inside me turns. His sweaty hand glides down my body and shoves into my trousers. „You want me, don’t you?“ A loud no escapes me and he laughs at me. Just as his hands travel lower, my eyes open suddenly and just like that I am awake again. My breath feels difficult under tears are running down my cheeks. Gibbs is sitting on the edge of the couch has both hands on my shoulders again. The hollow ache in my chest is almost too much so without thinking I throw my arms around Gibbs and hug his body. With a little delay he hugs me back and slowly strokes my head. On instinct I cling to him for dear life. Security blooms in my chest and travels through my body. Slowly my breathing slows down and I feel myself calming down. Gibbs lays is head on mine and draws circles on my back.

„It is alright.“ After a few moments I slowly draw back and pull my hands from his body. Inside I do not want to let go but rationally I know I need to let go. The loss of his soothing touch feels cold. My tears left stains on his shirt. „I am sorry“, I murmur as he puts one hand on the back of the couch to support himself.

„No need to be sorry. Are you alright?“ I nod but I do not even feel close to alright. My body may be healing but this whole thing smashed through years of progress on my mental health. Old traumas are coming up again and I cannot seem to separate them from the new one. Tears slip from my eyes as I look up at Gibbs again. „No you are not.“ He reaches out to cradle my head with his hand and pulls me against his chest again. Even though everything feels hopeless right now, Gibbs seems to steady me in the storm.

Chapter Text

Gibbs

There is so much more pain in Agent Morales‘ heart than she lets anyone know. Here in my arms this strong woman feels painfully frail. This makes the sense of failure at not getting anywhere with her case so much worse. I want to fix whatever it is that is hurting her this much but I feel like I cannot. The lack of control can make anyone go crazy. I let her lean on me for as long as she needs and after a little while she seems to have fallen asleep again in my arms. But it does not need long for her body to go rigid again, like she went right back into her dream. Pushing her away from my chest I put one hand on her face to wake her up. Her eyes open slowly and luckily she does not look as haunted as before. „You said you can‘t go right to sleep again after a nightmare.“ Still a little dazed she nods and looks up at me. The fragility makes the protector in me scream out, begging to do something, but there is nothing to do. A single tear falls from her left eye and on instinct my thumb reaches out to catch it.

„I swear I am not normally a crier.“ Her voice is weak and her laugh feels fake.

„You have yet to prove that to me.“ Smiling softly I take my hand from her face and let it fall to my side. With the lack of contact my hand feels cold.

„You just met me at a really shitty time in my life.“

„I do not doubt that.“ We fall silent for a while.

„My dad always taught me that vulnerability is what makes true strength, but being a woman in the military showing weakness really is not a good idea.“ I knew exactly what she meant. A lot of the guys were good men, but they were also prejudiced. „So I quickly learnt to hide it, not to cry or anything and I did not do it until now. So maybe this is all your fault“, she teases.

„How is your crying my fault?“

„Maybe it is my reaction to your cologne or anything.“ I laugh loudly because now she was really talking nonsense.

„My cologne, right.“

„Yeah, don’t laugh, it could be true.“

„Unlikely.“ She crosses her arms in front of her chest which is supposed to be intimidating but it really is not. I mean yeah, she has respectable muscles, but all it does is pull my eyes to her breasts. That is something we both do not need right now, so I stand up and bring her some water. Again. She thanks me silently and takes a sip.

„So, Gibbs, what are you building right now?“

„I am almost done with my boat.“

„You are building a boat?“ I nod. „Wow, that is incredible. Where do you keep all your boats?“

„Some I sell, some I gift to people.“

„So you do not have one yourself?“

„Maybe someday I will keep one.“

„Tell me if you do. I always wanted to go sailing.“

„Are inviting yourself on a date with me?“ All the color that slowly went back to her face during our conversation turns red. „No!“ I start to laugh and she has to smile to herself as well. „You are impossible, Gibbs!“ With that she pulls back the blanket to reveal her long legs and stands up from the couch. I know I should not look at her legs the way I do, but they are captivating. You can see some old scars but mostly you can see the muscle underneath the skin ready to strike. Because I do not want her to feel uncomfortable around me I quickly look up at the ceiling to ground myself and then stand up to sit back at the kitchen table. Closing the file I slowly put it to the side to keep Agent Morales‘ mind of it. Her frame is illuminated from the blue fridge light as she reaches inside to take out two little yogurt containers.

„Want one?“

„Sure.“ Handing me one with a corresponding spoon she leans down on her elbows in front of me at the table. Silently she begins to eat and I notice how badly I need to get my mind out of the gutter when I am around her. That becomes abundantly clear when she turns the spoon around inside her mouth and slowly pulls it out while smiling. She has to know what she is doing. Maybe that is her way to reclaim some kind of power - and I was not complaining - but it was really getting difficult to concentrate. The energy around us seems to be buzzing and I really cannot tell if I was the only one to notice it. A loud bang outside pulls us out of the energy and directly into action. „Get into the bedroom, lock the door and keep your gun on you.“ She does not respond just immediately springs into action and disappears into her bedroom. Taking my gun out myself I slowly leave the apartment to investigate. As I reach the stairway I notice a couple walking up the stairs carrying a few bottles of liquor and whispering loudly. As soon as they see me with my gun drawn they freeze. „Sorry, we didn‘t do anything! The bottles just fell down.“ Shaking my head I lower my weapon and return to the apartment. Having a weird feeling I check the perimeter and all the rooms before knocking on the bedroom door. With a loud noise it flies open and Agent Morales‘ points her gun at me. As she recognizes me she puts it down. „Everything alright?“

„Yeah just a few drunk neighbors returning home with a few glass bottles.“ Shaking her head she puts her gun back in a little box on the shelf and walks by me to the kitchen. When I sit down in front of her she says:“Now I really cannot sleep again.“

„Well, you are on medical leave for three more weeks and until then there is nothing you have to do so you could just sleep in tomorrow.“ She shrugs and looks down at her snack again.

„I hate that though, makes me feel unproductive.“

„You can be unproductive now.“

„Or, here me out, I can help you with the case.“ Without thinking I shake my head. „Why not? I can definitely help you!“

„I don‘t deny that you could, but you are on medical leave at the CIA so I can‘t possibly argue putting you on the case.“ To that she does not say anything but she roles her eyes, which I take a sign that she knows I am right but will not admit it. „But if I have any question about your dad or you, I will come to you first, before doing other research, okay?“ After a long breath she agrees.

„God, I feel so useless.“ I watch her stand up and fall down to sit on the couch.

„Why?“

„Because I can‘t help! What have I done to help this far? I got you a face which leads to nothing and questions which also lead to nothing, because my father is dead! How is that useful?“

„Self-pity does not suit you, Agent Morales.“ Her head snaps up and she glares at me. Right then I can see it again; the anger, the fire. Maybe she needs to be angry, to stand up for herself.

„Self-pity? I have just been and are going through one of the most traumatic times of my life. I thought I was going to die! They punched me, waterboarded me und cut me up! This is not self-pity, this is coping!“ She stood up and is now standing in front of me with that fiery look in her eye. God, she really is pretty when she is angry. I smile.

„Okay, so if you are busy coping, why do you need to be useful?“ Her anger is shortly replaced with confusion. Then she lightly punches me against the shoulder and says:“You are a horrible man, Leroy Gibbs.“

I laugh:“Really?“

„Yeah, cunning but horrible.“ I think a lot of people would describe me this way, so it is pretty accurate. I shrug. „So you feel better?“

Reluctantly she says:“Yes.“ „Good.“ We transition over to the living room, so Agent Morales can sit on the couch and read. I sit back in the arm chair again and close my eyes. A little sleep won‘t hurt. Also Agent Morales is very capable and I sleep light. I cross my arms in front of my body and lean back. Even though I can feel Agent Morales eyes on me I do not open mine again. A small smile dances on my lips but I try to suppress it. Nevertheless, it made it really difficult to sleep. Soon I feel her eyes drift of me which relaxes me but also feels like I am missing something. My smile fades and I slowly fall into a light sleep.

What wakes me up again is the soft smell of coffee. The first thing I see is Agent Morales standing at the kitchen making coffee in a french press. The sun is pouring in from the window only lightly illuminating the kitchen. The curtains make the light seem more yellow and soft as it falls over the books and furniture. Slowly I sit up and open my eyes again. Agent Morales is now standing in front of me and hands me the coffee. The sun illuminates her eyes, so they look like flowing honey, and her hair seems to glow. Without any word I take the coffee and get the picture of her standing over me like that out of my head. But I can‘t. The image has already ingrained itself into my mind. The way her skin glowed. The way her eyes shined. The way the faint bruises make her seem so much stronger than she already is. She looks like a warrior. I sigh and take a sip of my coffee.

„You really are not talkative after waking up“, her smile sounds through her voice. She seems to be in a good mood. It takes me a few minutes to wake up as she whirls around the kitchen. I stand up and walk over. She puts an omelet in front of me and smiles. „Now that is a little much.“

„No, it is just a thank you.“

„You do not need to thank me.“

„Yes, I do. You really helped me today and made me feel safe. So that is the least I can do.“

„You do not need to do anything to thank me.“ Her shoulders shrug and she starts to eat her own. Silence stretches between us. Without any words we eat and she cleans up. It is a comfortable silence. It is not loaded with unsaid things or tension. Just with ease. Agent Morales turns around and leans on her elbows on the table.

„So, I have to ask you for something.“

„Ah, that was what the omelet was for.“

„No, no. That was really a thank you. I am just going crazy here with nothing to do. So I was going to ask if I could come with you to NCIS and train. I am not asking to be involved in the investigation. I just want to do some shooting practice and maybe better my knife throwing.“ I take a deep breath. Of course it would be easier to have everyone under one roof and working on the case instead of watching her, but there is a little doubt in me.

„Why the sudden need to do that?“ Her eyes avoid mine and I can practically feel her tensing up.

„Because I do not want to feel helpless. I want to feel like I can do something.“ She looks up at me and her eyes meet mine. In that moment she convinced me. I nod and her worried facial expression melts from her face. It is replaced by a smile and her saying:“ Do not worry I will be careful.“ That is not what I am worried about. I am worried, that her being in the building will distract me. But I guess we will see.

Chapter Text

Francesca
The next two weeks are spend with the same schedule. In the morning Gibbs and I leave for the NCIS, he works on the case and I spend the day in the armory shooting or the gym throwing knives. If that got boring I annoyed Abby or watched Gibbs‘ team work. It was not much but it was a routine; something to hold on to. On the weekend I stay home with McGee or DiNozzo as Gibbs does what he does. Sleep comes more easily each night I sleep on the couch with Gibbs watching over me. As we spent more time together I get to know him better. Not good, because he is still pretty closed off but with what he tells me and what DiNozzo fills in I get a pretty good picture of him. Everything I hear just confirms my first feeling. He is a good man. Someone brave, fearless, loyal. Someone safe. Which is a bad thing because the one thing I badly crave right now is safety.
Today Gibbs and I get back to my apartment with Chinese food in hand. He worked late today, so I spent some time in Abbys lab painting. Abby is intriguing. Extremely fun and unique. I totally get why Gibbs is so fond of her. The evening is spent like any other the last two weeks. We eat, I get ready for bed and go to sleep. Like the last few days I try to sleep in my bed, but as always it does not work, so I stumble back to the living room to fall asleep on the couch.

Some time later Gibbs wakes me again. No nightmare but still he wakes me. „Morales, go to the bedroom there is someone at the door.“ Just as he says it I hear it too. The rattling of the lock. Immediately I jump up but I am a little late. The door swings open and three guys with guns walk through. They start to fire and I sprint towards the bedroom. Gibbs ducks behind the couch and fires back, hitting one. The rest of the action is behind my close door. I hear more shouts and grunts but just focus on my gun and knives. Hiding the knives under my hoodie I walk back out.

Opening the door I see Gibbs struggling with one of the attackers as the other one lies on the floor grunting. The attacker notices me, hits Gibbs and runs towards me. I shot, but he manages to deflect the gun by kicking against my hand. If my hand was not broken I could have hold on to the gun but it flies out of my hands. Nevertheless, I ignore the pain and start fighting. I just work on instinct but I do not need to do it long, because Gibbs pulls him to the ground by the neck. He bangs his head down on the floor again to knock him out and after that everything feels like slow motion. In my peripheral I see the last attacker slowly rise from the ground and pull his gun out. I scream out for Gibbs to duck down and throw my knife at him. It lands deep in the chest of the attacker and he stumbles back. Dark red blood ozes from the wound, the color leaves his face and he falls down. A heavy silence fills the room. The only noise is the heavy panting from me. It only takes a few seconds for the adrenaline to wear of and the pain to shoot into my body again like lightning. It almost takes my breath away. Doubling over I squeeze my eyes shut. I guess that is what gets Gibbs to move again, because he walks over to me and lays a hand on my back. Suddenly his mouth is close to my ear and goosebumps break out across my arms.

„Thank you for having my back. I am going to help you as soon as I cuff the last one here.“ The only thing I could do is nod. Losing the feel of Gibbs touch is cold and feels like extra weight was being put on me. However, I force myself to stand up again and open my eyes. Just as I do, I hear Gibbs swear under his breath. In the last 10 seconds the attacker must have moved, because he is now laying dead on his side. The only thing left in his hand is a small pillbox. He must have killed himself. That is the only thing that makes sense. Gibbs lets out a deep sigh and comes back to me.

„Are you okay?“ His eyes scan my face and body searching for new injuries.

„Fine, just my hand and arm hurt like hell. Also my ribbs, shouldn‘t have moved this fast.“

„Moving fast saved your life.“

„Yeah and now it hurts like hell.“ He lets out a small laugh and informs me, that he is going to call in the team to investigate and that their is an ambulance coming for me. „I do not need an ambulance it is fine!“

„No you are going to get that checked out.“ I start to cross my arms but it does not take long for me to realize it will hurt too much so I just give in. „Oh and Agent Morales!“

„Yeah?“

„Pack a bag you are not staying here.“ Appruptly, my feet anchor into the ground stopping me from going back to my bedroom. „Excuse me?“

„You are not staying here. It was risky to begin with but now you can‘t stay here.“

„I am not staying at some soulless safe house or some kind of motel!“ I hated those. They were always unwelcoming and sterile and so very inpersonal. I always felt so damn uncomfortable there.

„Okay, then you are staying at my house.“ My whole body stills and Gibbs studies my reaction. At his house? If they find out who he is then his home will not be safe anymore, I do not know if I can do that to him.

„Then your home is the target, do you really want that?“ He shrugs, as if that will not be too bad. „Do you really want me in your personal space?“ Immediately I regret reminding him what it will be like having me around. It is one thing for him to protect me in my space. But if I stay at his space he will not have a space to retreat to. Still, my fingers itch to find out how he lives, how the basement with all the tools look. What kind of pictures and books line his walls, how he lives. The CIA-Agent in me wants to find out everything there is to know. Gather information like trophies. The woman in me wants to find out how he will welcome me in his home. Wants to see him all close and domestic. So yeah, I am way more excited for this than I should be given the circumstances, but you have to hold onto the good things. „It will be fine.“ Not the enthusiastic answer I secretly hoped for, but I still nod and turn around to gather my things. In the loneliness of my bedroom the stress of what just happened gets to me. The weight of the threat. Slowly I sit down on the floor in front of my bed and pull my legs to my chest. It hurts, but I welcome the pain. Pain is better than being numb. I take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm the storm of fear, pain and anger in my chest. It does not really work. My chest feels too full for comfort like it is all too much. I allow myself to wallow in this feeling for about five minutes before I force myself to stand up and get a bag ready. I pack a few easy outfits for the days, a few shirts for the night and underwear to last me about two weeks. As I step out to go to the bathroom I notice that my apartment has gotten more crowded. Tony, McGee and Ziva immediately look up at me as I step out. Even Dr. Mellard stops his talking. I hate this. I hate the scrutiny with which they are looking at me to see if I am fine. I am. I do not need their concern. I do not need their pity. After a short „hello“ I walk to the bathroom and angrily shove all the things I need into my bag. Already dreading to walk out there again, I take a second longer to gather myself. To put on a uncaring face. A mask. After I successfully locked it in place, I walk out again. The room stills again. Anger blooms in my chest as I walk out. The only one with a normal facial expression is Gibbs. He does not look worried. Proud maybe. I do not know, maybe I am projecting my hopes onto him. Without another word I walk towards my living room and pack another bag with my painting tools and a few books. Having two bags means I have to put one on my injured hand. Hesitantly I pick it up and feel the pain radiating through my arm. It takes all my strength to keep my face calm as I walk out with my bags. In the hallway I let them fall to the ground and hiss in pain. Sometimes I really hate my stubbornness. Clutching my hand to my chest I turn away from the door in case someone walks out.

„You really got to learn to ask for help.“ Quickly, I spin back around and look into Gibbs face as he leans against the wall next to my apartment door.

„It worked, didn‘t it?“

„Yeah sure, now I just want to see how you get the bags down the stairs and into the car.“ Grinding my teeth I look down and think. Walking twice would be an option, but that would also mean admitting I was in pain, so I just stay silent. Gibbs whispers:“You are impossible“ and takes my bags. For a second I am too stunned to move. He just took my bags and left. Without hesitation, without discussion. I would be outraged, if I was not secretly thankful. The way out the door was already torture and down the stairs would not be easier so I just follow Gibbs downstairs. Gibbs puts my stuff into his car and pushes me towards the EMTs so they can check out my arm. Normally I would protest but this time the urge to do so is not enough. It takes them a few minutes. Afterwards they tell me to rest for a few days, not put weight on my left arm and not to bend over. The last one was really weird, but apparently it is supposed to protect my ribs. Soon I am sitting in Gibbs‘ car driving to the NCIS. I just walk straight down to Abbys office. When I walk through Abbys eyes go wide with concern. „I am fine, really. I just need a place to crash.“

„Yeah yeah, no problem just go in the back.“

„Thank you, Abby!“ I walk back to the air mattress I have been crashing on a few times in the last weeks. I do not sleep deep but I sleep some which is more than I have hoped for.

I am sitting in Abbys lab sketching my dad in his uniform when DiNozzo walks through the door. „Agent Morales, your chariot awaits.“ I laugh.

„What?“

„I am going to take you to Gibbs house.“

„Oh okay.“ Putting down my things I walk out with him and spent the car ride listening to Tony talk about some movie. In some way it is calming. What suprises me is that Gibbs does not seem to lock the door of his house. Inside the furniture looks homemade, sparse but still cozy. It looks like he sleeps on the couch and I already feel the need to snoop around. For now I settle with looking at his bookshelf. Old well read books, mystery, crime and normal literature. It suits him. Tony lets himself fall on the couch and I stroll through the kitchen and take a look on the ground floor. I find a door to the basement, wait for alarms or something to tell me not to go, but nothing comes so I walk down. The air feels heavier and dusty but in a good way. It smells like wood, liquor and wood polish. Inside the basement is what looks like the body of a boat. Slowly I trace the wood and feel the smoothness under my fingertips. It is soothing, I get why Gibbs likes it so much. The workbench is kind of messy, nails and tools laying around between old mason jars and liquor. Very Gibbs. I smile to myself and walk back up. „If Gibbs finds out you are snooping around you are going to be in a hell of trouble“, Tony shouts at me from the living room as I walk up. I just laugh and answer:“I am CIA, that is my excuse.“ That gets him laughing. Smiling I take the book Gibbs has been reading for last few days and sit down next to Tony on the sofa.

„Now I know I am never inviting you into my home.“

„Hey, why?“ „You are snooping around Gibbs house, I do not want you snooping around my apartment.“

„I won‘t need to.“ His head snaps to face me.

„Why? Because I am not your type?“ Rolling my eyes knowing what he wants to hear.

„No, I don‘t need to snoop because you talk a lot. I know a lot about you. Even though Gibbs and I talk a lot-„

„You guys talk?“

„Yeah, what did you think we do while he is protecting me?“ A short grin escapes him and he says:“Well he is not really a talker so I thought you would do your thing while he does his.“

„Yeah sometimes, but we also talk.“

„Interesting.“ His voice is almost a whisper and he studies me. Shaking my head I start to read Gibbs‘ book. It is interesting. A mystery about a cult. A little too similar to our work but it seems to work for him.

At 9 pm I call it a day and l get up to walk upstairs. „No, no, no. That is Gibbs very private space.“

„Now I am even more interested“, I answer grinning back at him. Taking my bag in my healthy hand, I walk up the stairs. Anticipation is running through me. Slowly I make my way through the hallway. The walls are lined with pictures of a young Gibbs with a red haired gorgeous woman and a little kid. It looks like a happy family. My heart aches looking at the happiness in their eyes. They all look carefree. There are more pictures of the family over the years. Turning the little girl from a baby to a toddler and kid. Other pictures show Gibbs in a marine uniform during deployment. There are no older pictures from Gibbs, none documenting his life without his wife and kid. I do not know what happened to the wife but she does not seem to be in his life anymore. It seems like this hallway is frozen in time documenting the time when the family was still together. I snoop around a little more find the very tidy bathroom, a kids room and more pictures of a very handsome young Gibbs. The last room I open the door to is the bedroom. This too is extremely tidy but also gorgeous and comfortable. The king size bed sits in the middle of the room with fluffy white linen bedding and is illuminated by the moonlight coming through from the window leading to the back of the house. In front of the bed is a dresser with some flowers on top. All the wood is smooth and light. If I am not mistaken everything is handmade, which makes it so much more special. On one of the nightstands is another family picture and a lamp but besides that they are both empty. I let my bag fall to the floor and sit on the bed. Sure it is weird to sleep in his bed, but I did save his life so he kind of owes me. Also my ribs are killing me and sleeping on the couch is out of the question. With a sigh I stand up again, put on some clothes to sleep in and lay down onto the bed. The mattress is a good mixture of soft and firm and the bedding feels incredible against my skin. Everything smells like sandelwood, minty aftershave and freshly washed linens. It smells like Gibbs. It smells safe. I pull the blanket around me and let the comfort relax my stiff muscles. Normally the quiet would alert me but right now I welcome it. The quiet lets me fall into a deep safe sleep.

Chapter Text

Gibbs

Sometimes work is exhausting and today was especially bad. For one, I did not get any sleep but also there is no clue about the people who broke into Agent Morales‘ apartment. Nothing. Ducky still was not done with the autopsy as I left for my protective detail shift. At least I get to be home.

Nerves where dancing in my chest. How would she react to my home? In contrast to hers it is really cold. It is stilled in time but it is me. I open my door and find DiNozzo jumping up from the couch. „Hi, boss. I tried to stop her, but-„

„Slow down, DiNozzo. What happened?“

„Francesca snooped around, she went upstairs I have not seen her since.“ My pulse shortly quickens but I refuse to show too much emotion.

„I am going to do a quick parameter check, then you can go.“ It takes me about five minutes to check the ground floor and the outside of the house and there is nothing else to do but to check on Francesca. I look around upstairs and find her in my bedroom. For a second I feel like I am dreaming. Francesca lies in my bed hugging the covers with one leg on top of them. Her long leg is naked besides a way too short sleeping pant and basically taunting me. She seems to be sleeping, because her eyes are closed and a small smile dances on her face. With the moonlight hitting her face she almost looks angelic. I stand still in the door for a few seconds only to circle back downstairs. Seeing her in my bedroom feels weirdly good and I do not want to deal with that right now. I grab a quick sandwich and then walk back upstairs. Before I walk back into the bedroom I stand in front of the door for a few seconds. I feel like I need to gather strength, which is stupid. Internally I curse at myself as I walk back in. Francesca has not moved, so I sit down on the lounge chair in the corner opposite of the bed. It is silent besides Francescas slow deep breathing. My eyes travel over her face, the last faint bruises on her eyes, the dark lashes falling onto her face and her small but strong nose. Looking at her like that I realize just how beautiful she really is. I mean I always knew but right now it really hits me. How soft and full her lips look and the way her hair falls into her face. It is difficult not to notice but I try anyway. Not successfully, though. Without any concious decision my eyes travel from her face over her slender neck and the way her hurt arm is clutching the blanket. The bandage is a stark contrast to her warm skin tone but fits right in with the blanket. It looks relaxed, comfortable. Her left leg pulls the blanket closer to her, showing her soft skin. A few scars sit on her skin showing the history of her battles. Slowly I close my eyes and  rub my hand across my face. I just try to get my act together when I hear the blanket rustle. On instinct my eyes open again and I see Agent Morales turning on her back crossing her arms above her head. This concealed her legs and gives me a little hope that I could get through this night. The hope only lasted a few moments as Francesca takes a deep breath which raises her chest and pushes her breasts against the thin shirt. That alone lets my blood travel south, but then she releases a deep sigh which might as well have been a moan. Great. This is just going great. It seems like my initial attraction to her is just getting worse and me fighting just does not help. I should probably step away and let someone else protect her, but something stops me from doing that. Somehow I cannot give her safety into someone else’s hands.It should scare me, warn me to stay away, but I just push the thoughts away. It is not something I want to deal with. The only thing I can do right now is watch her sleep and keep her safe. After watching her breath steadily for a few hours I fall asleep as well.

The thing that wakes me is a soft touch on my arm and rays of sun on my face. As I open my eyes Agent Morales is standing in front of me gently stroking my arm laying on the armrest. Just for a second I get entranced by the flowing honey in her eyes but I move and suddenly the lack of touch by her is waking me up. Under her scrutiny I sit up and take my hands through my hair. “Hey.” Her voice is soft and laced with a small smile. Right now, I feel like I have solemnly seen a more beautiful woman than her. With er eyes sparkling in the sun and intently watching me. Not to mention the slightly ruffled hair framing her face and her pink lips smiling at me, looking temptingly soft. My answer comes out gruff a total opposite to her soft greeting. She sits back down on the foot end of the bed and crosses her legs, letting me see the scar forming on her right one. Trying to stop myself from staring at her I give myself a reason to.

“How did you sleep?” Her smile grows.

“Very well. I think I have not slept that well in a long time, so thank you. Maybe I just sleep here permanently.” Her tone is joking and her smile turned to a grin but everything inside me stops. Not just because commitment comes difficult to me these days but also because it does not sound that bad to have her around indefinitely. Francesca notices my hesitation and says:”I was just joking, no worries. I am going to get some coffee downstairs if you want some.” She moves to stand up but I stop her by grabbing her arm and standing up.

“I will have a look downstairs and bring you the coffee up.” Her eyes search my face like she does not know what to make of my behavior. Honestly, I do not know what to make of my behavior either but I do not want to dwell on it. Like every morning my joints ache as I make my first steps. It is basically a routine right now to endure pain when waking up. Without having to think about it much I put some coffee into my french press and put it on the stove. I take this time alone to breathe deeply and thoroughly wake up. I stretch a little and watch the coffee slowly rise. Afterwards I put it into two mugs and sweeten one with a little spoon of sugar. Just as I turn around to get back upstairs I notice Agent Morales standing in the doorway.

„You okay?“ I furrow my brows.

„Yeah, why?“

„You acted kind of weird up there. Just wanted to check in.“ I take a step towards her and give her the mug.

„I have not been awake for five minutes and I haven‘t had my coffee yet. Nothing else.“ Trying to underline my point, I take a sip of my coffee. She does the same. We do not talk much the rest of the morning. I get ready first, while she sits on the couch and reads and afterwards she gets ready as I read the newspaper and drink the rest of my coffee. Even the ride to work is quiet again. However, when we get to the office she does not go down to train like she did the last two weeks, she comes up to the bull pin with me, where we are greeted by the team.

„I am fine, guys.“ Agent Morales answers the question before it could be asked. Without waiting for any reactions she takes the chair from the unused desk in the back and sits next to McGee’s.

„What are you doing, Morales?“

„I am tired of waiting around. The least I can do is give ideas and information on stuff.“ Understandably so. I could never just sit around. I have to do stuff and I am suprised Agent Morales even lasted that long.

„McGee, what do you got?“

„We ID‘d one of the attackers as Justin McAdams, an American islamic terrorist, often associated with Fahid Al-Shabad-„ Francesca interrupts him:“I know him. His network was one of my fathers last missions before he died. My father took out half of his support system and the organisation was never the same after that.“

„Any idea why he would think your father is alive?“

„Maybe he didn‘t get the memo that he died, I don‘t know.“

„Well, Fahid came to the US two months ago so he is definitely a suspect, but he is always well protected and hidden so it will be difficult to get to him“, McGee continues. „Maybe not.“ Ziva squints at her Computer and then puts something on the screen. „This is the Fundraiser for Peace in the Middle East, which takes place this Friday in DC. Fahid is supposed to attend. His cover are Non-Profit Organizations so it makes sense for him to show up and look for founding. We could get to him there.“

„The only problem is, he knows what we look like. Ziva, Tony and me went to the container you were held in and later checked the security footage. Abby found out that it was hacked to obscure your abduction but also to check afterwards if any evidence survived. We are on the tape they reviewed, if we show up he will never even set a foot into the building.“

Agent Morales interjects:“He knows what you look like but he does not know what Gibbs looks like, Gibbs and me could go.“ My worry spikes just thinking of putting her in that position. „No way“, I say and vehemently shake my head.

„Why not? My being there could give us vital clues if he is involved, I could get him to open up.“ In an attempt to further underline her point, she stands up and looks me deep in the eyes.

„Or he could see it as another chance to eliminate evidence.“ She takes another step towards me and says:“No way, his public image is way to important for him to get involved in something that public. Trust me, Gibbs, I know this.“ This time I take a step closer. Our feet are almost touching now and she got this defiant look about her as she crosses her arms in front of her chest. This time with the broken one on the outside.

„You are still injured.“

„Barely, I just have to walk around in a dress and heels, that I can do. Please, Gibbs, I can do this. I need to do this.“ She lets a fraction of that vulnerability and strength I first saw on her in the infirmary shine through. The air around us feels electric as the seconds tick by with us just looking at each other.

„Okay, fine.“ A smile returns to her lips and she wordlessly thanks me before sitting back down. Just as she leaves my personal space all the voices of the bullpin seem to filter back into my perception and I notice Ziva, McGee and DiNozzo staring at us.

„Go, research everything and get it ready for the undercover mission!“ With a second delay they follow my orders and hastily sit back down behind their desks. I just know office gossip will run rampent with this today but I barely have time to think about it, as Agent Morales leaves for Abby‘s lab again. Because one thing just became abundantly clear to me: I broke Rule number 10. Again.

Chapter Text

Francesca

Getting to do the undercover mission sparks new energy in me. I know I am still hurt but I also need to do something helpful. I need to help myself again. But besides going to the fundraiser there is nothing I can do. I have no access to my CIA accounts so I cannot research anything. All I can do right now is watch Abby work on the evidence from my apartment and wreck my brain why Fahid would possibly think my father is still alive. Pacing behind Abbys desk I think about my fathers death and any inconsistency there might have been. But there were none. He died on base during training, he had a heart attack it happens. Not often for people like him, but sometimes it does. I never looked at his body though. That is something I could not do. I wanted to remember him as my dad, not as a corpse.

„Stop!“ Appruptly my feet stop moving and I look over to Abby. „You are driving me crazy with your walking around! Please just stop.“

„Sorry, Abby.“

„It‘s fine, it just makes it impossible for me to concentrate.“ I nod and sit back down in front of my drawing pad. My dad is looking back at me. I turn the page and stare at it for a while. The only images in my mind are the last time I saw my dad and those dreadful black eyes, so I sketch my dad yet again. 

Today Ziva drives me back to Gibbs place. We sit on the couch talking about being the only women in an army unit when she suddenly goes quiet. „Look, I know everything has to be really weird and difficult right now and I know Gibbs is great, but if you want to talk to a woman about everything, you can talk to me.“ She smiles at me  and I smile back. Her sincerity and sympathy warms me but I know that will not happen. It is bad enough I am here living in Gibbs‘ house I do not want to load all my trauma on another member of this team. I put my hand on hers and thank her. „Really, thank you. But I really do not care about gender that much. Mostly.“

„Yeah, I heard.“ We both laugh.

„Ah so Tony told you?“

„Almost immediately. You did not think he could keep something like that to himself did you?“

„I didn‘t tell him to but it is still funny.“

„Yeah, he is a pig sometimes.“

„A good one though.“ Ziva looks down and smiles more to herself now.

„Talking about good ones“, I start. „Do you think Gibbs minds?“

„That you like women? No, I do not think he cares about that kind of thing.“

„You sure?“

„Yes, why do you worry?“

„I am just spending so much time with him and I don‘t want that kind of thing to stand between us.“

„You do not have to worry about that, trust me.“

„Thank you.“ I stretch my arms above my head and the old stabbing pain comes back. Immediately I pull my arms back down and close my eyes.

„Your ribs?“, Ziva asks.

„Yeah, they are going to kill me.“

„You have to take it slow with them, there is no other way.“ I sigh and let my head fall back. 

One hour later Gibbs comes back and Ziva leaves. He is silent for a long time. Just walking around and then doing some cooking. The silence is only broken when he exits the kitchen with two plates and tells me he made me some food. Nervousness raises in my chest as I sit down and he begins to eat. I mimic him but all my appetite has left me. „Is everything okay?“ The words rush out of me without any warning. That rarely happens but then again Gibbs brings out a weird side of me.

„Why?“

„You are more silent than normal. Did I do something?“ He sighs deeply, lays down his cutlery and looks up at me.

„You didn‘t do anything. I am just exhausted.“ I nod, wanting to give him some space. We eat in silence again and I put all the dishes away when we are done. As I walk out of the kitchen I see Gibbs sitting on the couch with his head in his hands lightly massaging his temples. It is clear to me that he is in pain. My footsteps are light as I walk over to him.

„Let me.“ Softly stepping between his knees as his tired blue eyes look up at me. On instinct my hands reach up and I begin to slowly massage his head. My fingers tingle from touching his skin and a little flutter emerges in my chest. Gibbs lets out a small groan and lets his head fall against my stomach. Smiling to myself I continue to put pressure on his temples and pulling the skin slightly back. I have to actively stop my knees from buckling when his hands rest on the back of my knees to steady himself. His hands are warm above my jeans and feel big against my legs. To distract myself from the feel of his hands I pull my hand through his hair and begin to massage his hair. His hair is soft in my hands and gets a little messy. Before my mind even starts, I stop it from going to the places it is sure to go with my hands making a mess of his hair. I refuse to let it go there. Time ticks by with us staying in the same position and it feels like we are in our own little bubble with Gibbs showing me this kind of vulnerability. After a while Gibbs lifts his head and removes his hands from the back of my knees. My insides scream for his touch again but I push it down. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight I was about to witness. Gibbs raises his eyes to me and looks up through his disheveled hair. If I did not think he was sexy before, I would now. The way his eyes look up, the messy hair. Just everything is a little too much for me to ignore. His lips move but I barely notice him thanking me, I am too entranced by the view. To make matters worse he takes a hand and pushes it through his hair, showing me his strong hands. This guy has it way to easy making me like him. The air feels like it is getting heavy and a little too warm, so I take a step back distancing myself from Gibbs. My mouth feels dry. „I am going to sleep here tonight, just so you know. I need a few hours really sleeping.“

„You can have the bed if you want.“ Somehow not having him near me while I sleep worries me, but I do not say anything.

„No, it’s fine. The couch is closer to the entries and I sleep here most nights anyway. You take the bed.“ I want to argue but his face tells me not to.

This nights sleep does not come easy to me. I turn around again and again but only fall asleep after a few hours. But even then, the sleep is light, and nightmares come easy. Again, I wake up screaming with the feeling of his disgusting hands on me. He may not be here, but Gibbs is standing in the door looking alert. „I am fine, I‘m fine.“ The second one is more to me than to him, but it does not look like he believes me either way. Sighing he sits back down on the chair in the corner and closes his eyes to sleep again. He seems to sense me wanting to argue, because he stops me doing so with just a hand gesture. I watch him for a while to distract myself from the nightmare, but I fall asleep soon. Luckily the nightmares do not find me again, but I still wake up groggy. My mood is terrible, but I cannot put my finger on it. My nightmares come back to me through the whole morning, through my first coffee and through the shower. The images completely entrance me as I try to apply the healing balm on my scar. My hands start to shake and I cannot get myself to actually apply the cream. My eyes stare to the bathroom door but I my head is back in that dreadful container. In my mind my body is being cut up. In my mind the pain is radiating through my legs. Somehow, I am stuck in my mind in this panic, frozen in one moment. That is until the door swings open and Gibbs walks in on my sitting on the floor in nothing but a top and little shorts. I only really notice him, when he crouches in front of me and looks at me intently. I can only slowly lift my head to look at him.

„You okay, Francesca?“

„Yeah, fine.“ My voice is frail and I really do not blame Gibbs for not believing me.

„No you are not. What is up?“ His eyes meet mine.

„Just having a bad morning. Sorry, I should be better by now.“

„There is no timeline for recovery, you heal as you heal.“ I nod. „So why are you sitting on the floor?“

I have to swallow a lump in my throat before I answer:“Just needed to apply some cream on my scar. But I just can‘t seem to do it.“ He nods and takes the tube from my hands. Mesmerized and too stunned to actually realize what he is doing, I watch him open the tube and put some cream on his fingers. He sits down as well and watches my face for a reaction, the only thing I can do is nod slightly. His callused hand grabs my ankle and softly he puts the cream on my scar, spreading it around. Immediately my skin reacts to his touch and my flashbacks are fading away. With precise strokes he guides moisturizer up my leg and around my skin. With a little pressure he massages it in and all I do is relish in the feeling of being touched so softly. With so much care. I do not breath, at least I do not feel myself doing it. My whole attention zones in on the spots where his hands are touching me. It may have started out innocent enough but the higher his hands travel on my leg the more my heart starts to beat and the more everything in me starts to heat up. As his hands reach my knee, blood starts to rush between my legs. A fee fingers are touching above my knee but he slowly pulls them down to spread around the cream some more. He must know how teasing he is. Silently I let my head fall back and close my eyes so he does not see the emotions in my eyes. Maybe he will interpret that as not wanting to see the scar or anything other than what it is. The only thing the closed eyes are doing to me is, that I am much more aware of the placement of his hands than I was before. That is not a good thing. So I pull my head straight again and open them. Just in this moment he looks up for a second and shows me the beautiful blue. Maybe I am imagining but I think I see some heat in them too. His attention snaps back to my leg and his hands travel further up my leg. His thumb keeps massaging my scar, but the torture is completely out of my mind. I feel my skin reacting to his touch and my breath getting shallow. I do not know if he notices my reaction, but he sure acts like he does not. He just keeps on moving upwards. By the time he reaches the end of my scar, his fingertips glide under the seam of my shorts and I am completely done for. This is another kind of torture; feeling his fingertips dance over such sensitive spots without the prospect of relief is agony. My attention heightens at the feel of his callouses on my skin and the pressure he uses to put on the crème. After what feels like eternity he stops and removes his hands from my skin. The lack of touch is worse than the almost touch but I try to keep my composure. “Thank you.” My voice is barely more than a whisper. He just nods and walks out of the room without looking at me again.

During the next days we plan the undercover operation. Well, more or less undercover. I will go as myself because Fahid will know me anyways, so it makes so sense to try to lie. Gibbs will go as a marine, not an NCIS agent, just to be sure. On Friday morning we go back to my apartment to collect everything I need. Honestly, I am way more nervous than I thought I would be. My legs cannot stop bouncing and everything inside me is on high alert. Gibbs probably notices but does not say anything. Taking a deep breath, I get out of the car after him. Even with the knives in my pockets I am reluctant to go back. The whole place feels like danger to me. Gibbs checks everything before I can come in. When I do, it all looks the same. The crime scene tape is gone. There is no blood anywhere, it is like nothing happened. But something did. I killed a man in here. Even if it was self-defense, I killed someone. No point sugarcoating it. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves but nothing helps. My ribcage feels like it is not big enough for the pressure in my chest and my skin seems to burn. Still, I walk in and put together a makeup back and an outfit. It feels weird to think about my appearance, when I almost died in here. When Gibbs almost got killed because of me in here. I force myself to take deep breath while I stand in front of my closet, but it really is hard. I just grab everything I need and walk past Gibbs to the car. Apparently, I am not over what happened to me. Not in the past, not the last weeks. Everything feels fresh inside my chest. Like a wound has been ripped open and the windy air hits it. Though, for that wound there is no healing cream. Gibbs scans my expression on the way back to the car and sighs loudly. Seems like he is not pleased with what he detected but also chooses not to say anything. Good for him. I do not owe him a good mood. I do not owe him to be good again. He can deal with the mood I have or leave me alone. I am not here to please him. He is here to protect me. In defiance to the words, I suspect he will say soon I cross my arms in front of my chest. He shortly looks at me while driving and sees the way I am sitting.

“What is bothering you, Morales?”

“Nothing, why do you say anything is bothering me?” Maybe my tone is a little harsh. Maybe Gibbs did not do anything to make me mad. But I am mad and I cannot do anything about it.

“You are crossing your arms in anger and you could not get out of your apartment fast enough. So, what is bothering you?” I stay silent and he lets the question just dangle between us. In some way I want to answer him, want to verbalize what it is I am feeling. In another way I feel like I can take care of myself just fine. This dilemma leads me to stay quiet and not say anything. He can probably guess anyways.

Being back in Gibbs’ house feels safe. Like I can breathe again. Like my whole body is not on high alert for threats. It is comfortable. Immediately my breath comes easier and my muscles relax. I hang my dress in the dress bag on the door of the bedroom and go back downstairs to lay on the couch. Gibbs is sitting at his dinner table reading up on all the suspects. I already committed everything to memory so I decide to try to sleep again for a little while.

Sleeping without a nightmare did wonders for my mood. Suddenly I feel energized again. Suddenly, I am ready to face this evening. I am ready to be strong again; to be an Agent again. It takes me a while to get ready. I wash and curl my dark hair a little and let it fall loose around my face and head. To compliment that I do a light brown smokey eye and some makeup to frame my face. For the first time since the kidnapping, I feel pretty again. Desirable again. When I am done with my make up, I smile into the mirror at my reflection. On the surface there is no evidence of torture, no evidence of nightmares. The dark bags under my eyes are covered up and the bruises have subsided. Shortly before leaving I put on my dress. I have not worn that for ages. It is a burgundy red flowy dress with a figure-hugging top part. It looks like there are two strands of fabric crossing in the middle of my collarbones and going back over my shoulders down to the floors. The two strands flowing behind like two little veils is my favorite part of the whole dress. The fabric wraps from my collarbones over my breast to my waist where they pull back to my back and then to the front again around my waist. This way my breasts are thoroughly covered a part of my sternum and my stomach is still exposed. In a way it looks like the burgundy version of a Greek goddess’ dress. What helps it that no injuries show through. Smiling to myself I grab my bag and walk down to the living room where Gibbs is already waiting. For a second, I forget to breath. Gibbs is waiting on the bottom of the stairs like a prom date just better. His body is draped in a very nicely fitting suit and his hair sits perfectly. With his hands in his pockets, he looks up at me as I walk down the stairs. In my eyes he is the very definition of handsome right now. My feet stop shortly before his and I look at him. In my high strappy heals I am almost as tall as him so I do not have to look up like I normally do. In that moment it dawns on me that I must work with Gibbs looking this good all evening. My concentration is going to be a problem.

Chapter Text

Gibbs

I never had a problem working with women. But I think Francesca is the first woman I am going to have a problem with. As she walks down the stairs my breath stops for a second. More than a second. The burgundy of the dress perfectly complements her skin color and her figure. The closer she gets the more I can see the spark in her eyes. I also notice the tattoo between her breasts. It is a sword with a snake wrapping around it. All together she looks like a warrior goddess. She stops shortly before me and looks me deep in the eyes. Determination looks back at me. For a few seconds we stay in silence and I try to cover up my admiration on my face. I cannot really tell if it works or not. “Ready to go?”, She breaks the silence first. I just nod and step away. We drive back to NCIS to get ready for everything. When we arrive Francesca gets a lot of compliments when we arrive and I watch her soak all of them in. I guess the last few weeks have really lowered her confidence. Without swapping another word, we get ready for the mission. Put the earpiece in, attach the video brooch, test the tech. “Okay let’s go through it again.” Francesca answers for us both: „I am myself, Gibbs here is just not saying that he is NCIS otherwise he is himself too and we are there together. On a date.” She does not look at me when she says it. I can tell it makes her feel uncomfortable, but I do not say anything about it. We get in the limo at the Navy Yard with McGee driving us. Sitting in the back of the car I look to Agent Morales sitting next to me. Her frame is wrapped in a thin coat and she is looking out of the window. The city lights illuminate her face in a soft light and once again I cannot pull my eyes away from her. This is going to be a hard night.

When we arrive, I act like a gentleman and hold open the door for Francesca. She gifts me a small smile and then walks side by side with me. When we walk up the stairs to the building, I put my hand on her back to support her. Her skin is warm under mine and makes my fingers tingle. To distract myself from the pull I feel towards her I scan the crowd for any familiar faces. I see some politicians, some marines, soldiers and of course businessmen, who see profit in this war. I nod towards the people I recognize and otherwise do not acknowledge the rest. I hold the door open for Francesca and we walk inside. The venue is decorated in simple and elegant colors. There are waiters walking around with champagne and finger food and chandeliers hanging low from the ceiling. In our ear DiNozzo informs us, that everything is working fine and we are good to go. “So we walk around a bit and look who is here?”, Francesca asks.

I put my hand on her hip again and pull her a bit towards me. “Do not forget that we are supposed to be on a date, Morales.” My mouth is close to her ear and I see a little shiver running through her. That gives me confidence that I am not the only one affect by this. A little grin escapes me as she turns her head to look at me. “Oh, I won’t.” Her voice is soft and raspy. Her face is closer to me now, our noses almost touching again. Her hand finds its way on my back and she smiles deviously. I laugh a little and take a little step back to move further into the room. Francesca follows me and it feels like she snaps back into Agent-mode. Her eyes scan over the crowd and her look is analytical. We each take champagne of the tray and keep on walking. Agent Morales meets someone she knows and starts talking to them. The way I am standing in front of her I get a better view at her tattoo. The snake almost looks like it is strangling the dagger. But what surprises me the most is that the tattoo seems to cover up a scar in the middle of her sternum. It looks like a letter. An F or an E maybe, I do not want to ogle her too much so I cannot make it out. From the looks of it, someone else did it to her. White hot anger raises in my chest, nevertheless I have to push it down to keep our cover. I smile at the man who talked to Morales the last few minutes as he walked away. “Everything okay?” Francesca moves a little closer to me.

“Yeah, why?”

“You are quieter than usual. You have to do a little of the small talk.”

“Yes, of course. Boss.” I smile at her and she laughs.

“France, you have to stop looking at Gibbs or we cannot scan the room around you!”, McGee interjects our conversation. Francesca’s cheeks grow red and she turns away from me. “Thank you.” We walk around a bit and talk to a few people. Nobody interesting, neither for the case or in general. We met the Secretary of the Navy and I introduce Francesca to her. “Nice to meet you, Madam Secretary.”

“Likewise, I heard you saved Agent Gibbs’ live here. I guess a thank you is in order.”

“Oh well, he was protecting me, so I was just returning the favor.”

“I see. And what are you doing here?”

“Officially, we are here on a date. Unofficially, I think you can guess.”

“Ah, yes I can.”

“And what are you doing here, Madam Secretary?”

“Just trying to connect with some people and represent the Navy.”

“Then don’t let us stop you. Have a good evening!”, Francesca says and we go our separate ways. As we walk around the room some more, I cannot get Francescas scar out of my head. It had to be something traumatic and that she is displaying it so proudly with the tattoo is a strength not many people have. A will for survival. For living. “We have intel that tells us Fahid is sitting in a lounge on the west side of the room. If you want him to notice you, you have to stand near him.”, McGee speaks in our ear. “Copy.” I put my hand on Francescas back again and feel her shiver underneath me again. We walk towards the west and find a little spot by a wall, where we are in direct eyesight of Fahid. “Do you think he can see us?” Francesca asks and looks behind me.

“Yes, he can. Now we just have to talk.”

“About?”“Whatever, just act natural.”

She laughs for a moment. That short laugh is all I need for a warmth to bloom in my chest. The shine in her eyes and everything just makes me want to be closer to her. I just swallow the urge.

“Your natural would be building a boat in your basement or investigating something. So we can’t exactly do that.”

“Are we not investigating?”

“Technically.”

“So technically I am being natural. What are you doing, Francesca?” I like the way her name rolls of my tongue. The way she smiles slightly when I call her by her first name. “I am also being natural because I am myself. Also, I find talking to you comes quiet natural to me.”

I smile at her. “Really?” She nods and smiles back at me. We look at each other for a few moments until someone calls her name. We turn around and find that Fahid is waving us over. It is show time. We walk over to him and he greats us. “Special Agent Morales, it is good to see you. I know we have not properly been introduced, Fahid Al-Shabad.”

“Well, no we haven’t but I know you. I would not think you would like me very much.”

“No?”

“No, as I heard my father took out some of your men.”

“Oh well, he did me a favor. They were, as you say, bad seeds.”

His smile is as phony as it gets. He also seems like the type to insist on his story no matter what you say. Nevertheless, I keep asking. “Bad seed?”

“Yes, you are?”

“Gunnery Sergeant Jethro Gibbs.”

“Ah, and yes they used my network to help terrorists, so her father helped me. I was really saddened to her about his death. My condolences, Francesca.” I wanted to punch him for using her first name, but I do not react yet. I look over to Francesca and notice how she catches her face from falling.

“Thank you, but I don’t actually believe you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, I know your nephew was one of the casualties, so I would think that you are mad at that.”

“I am sad about my nephew but like I said he was involved in bad stuff. Things I am trying to fight against. Now, Special Agent, I have to get back to my associates here, but it was nice to see you. Give my condolences to your mother.”

“My mother?”

Fahid does not answer but just leaves with a few of his men. I could see that Francesca is worked up. Her eyes are wide open and her chest is rising faster than normal.

“Come on, let’s go follow him.” Her only answer is a nod before we make our way through the crowd. On instinct my hand finds its way to her back again. As she walks the fabric of her dress flows against my arm. It is soft like her skin. Her steps are deliberate and focused. I walk a little faster to get my mouth next to her ear. “If you keep walking like you are on a mission, someone is going to get suspicious.” She slows down and walks beside me now. “Stop stressing, Francesca. We will find out what happened and if he is involved.” She nods again and leans on me a little bit. “Thank you”, she whispers to me and gives me smile. I squeeze her waist and we keep walking. Fahid walks towards a hallway behind closed doors and we keep a distance so we won’t alert him. When the doors close behind us the noise from the fundraiser dies down we walk further down Fahids voice is getting into earshot. It sounded like he is talking in Arabic on the phone. We get to the end of the hallway and cautiously look around the corner to see Fahid talking on the phone and nervously pacing around. I do not understand what he is saying but it looks like Francesca does. Her face is all concentrated and she is moving her mouth like she is talking to herself. Maybe translating. Fahid is turning in our direction and I pull her behind the corner again. Her back is against the wall and I am standing close in front of her. Her breast heave into me and all I can do is stare into her eyes. She is so close right now, the air feels like it is going to bust. In the silence of our moment Fahid’s voice stops an footsteps sound like they are coming towards us. After that everything feels like it is going in slow motion. I put my hands on the back of Francescas head and look her deep in the eye asking her silently. In answer her fingers wrap around the seam of my jacket and pulls herself towards me. The moment her lips crash into mine the time stops. All my thoughts focus on the way her hair feels in my hand, the way the softness of her lips perfectly fits onto mine, the way feels pressed against me. My heartbeat picks up in a way it has not in a long time. One of my hands cups the back of her head and the other reaches forward to her cheek. After a few seconds of shook our mouth start to move slowly against the other. I totally forget we are on a mission. I forget that this is just for show. I forget that McGee, Ziva and DiNozzo can see her pressing against me. Right now, I only feel the closeness to her. She ignites something big in me. What really fries my brain though, is the way she softly sighs into the kiss; that is not fake. Our little bobble pops as soon as Fahid clears his throat behind us. Very reluctantly I pull away from her and look at her without acknowledging Fahid. For a fraction of a second, she leans into me again as I pull away but then her eyes open and it seems like she is getting a grip on herself. That makes me a little proud, because clearly, I am not the only one affected by that kiss. Our eyes meet for a second and I detect a little red in her cheeks. “I am sorry to interrupt you lovebirds, but this area is closed off.”

“Then why are you back here?”, Francesca says with a very pissed of attitude, that makes we want to smile.

“Just had to take a little call and I can get to my room through here, so I am allowed to be here. Just want to remind you, that this is a serious cause and I do not think your father or your mother would approve of you fooling around back here.” His phony smile shows again and I can feel Francesca tensing up.

“I am happy to hear my father helped you with your bad seeds, but I do not think you can really know what my parents would approve of.”“Well, as a parent myself, I would not like my daughter fooling around with someone as old as myself.”

I laugh a little. Pointing out our age difference is a cheap shot, trying to get a reaction out of her.

“Good thing I am not your daughter then.”

There is a hatred in Fahids eyes that you cannot hide. It is fresh and strong. He just nods and walks by us with strong steps. I look back at Francesca who is following Fahids steps with her eyes.

“You okay?” Her head snaps back and she looks at me.

“Yeah fine, let’s go back.” Before I get the chance to answer her, she starts walking towards the door. I sigh and follow her. We stay for a little while, but the mood stays awkward. Fahid seems to have left right after talking to us, so we tell McGee to pick us up.

Chapter Text

Francesca

The whole evening was just crazy. During the car ride home, I cannot get that kiss out of my head. The way he held me was straight out of a movie. I know it was just to stop Fahid from finding out we followed him, but still it felt so real. The problem is it made my little crush on him so much worse. I could just imagine that my attraction was only based on him protecting me. But obviously is not. The car ride is spent in silence, after we get all the undercover gear back to McGee. When we get back to Gibbs’ place, I immediately walk upstairs to get ready for bed. I peal myself out of my dress and put on comfy clothes. In a short and my old Navy sweatshirt I walk back downstairs to get something to drink. On the stairs I walk into Gibbs. “Oh sorry.” I try to walk around him but he does not move. “Gibbs, can you please let me through?” He neither answers nor moves. “Gibbs, come on. What is going on?”

“What is going on with you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You have been avoiding me. If I overstepped, tell me but do not ignore me.”

“You didn’t overstep, it was the right call. And I am not ignoring you, now can you please let me through?”

He looks at me for a few moments but keeps on standing right in front of me. After a second is eyes meet mine and immediately, I remember the way he looked at me before he kissed me. Phantom feelings dance over my lips and it is almost as if I can actually feel them again. A soft tingle emerges in my chest. I do not know if I want to step closer to him or run away. In some way it is both. My heart beats faster as he pins me down with his blue eyes. He takes a little step forward and the air seems to electrify even further.

“What is your problem, Morales?” His voice is low and rough. Almost a whisper. I hate that this voice does something to me. That it makes me burn up inside and want to get closer to him, to let him touch me.

“I do not have a problem.” My voice is raspy. I do not even believe myself. Gibbs makes a disbelieving noise, turns around and leaves for the kitchen. The air gets lighter and I feel like I can breathe again. At the same time my heart pulls after Gibbs. Out of protest to it, I turn around and force myself to go to bed. The scent of him engulfs me as I pull the blanket around me. In the back of my head, I imagine it is Gibbs hugging me, I do not let the image go too far to the front of my consciousness or the questions and vulnerability that come with it. Having a little crush on the hot bodyguard is one thing but actually liking him is a completely other thing. I close my eyes and wait for sleep to fall onto me.

When I open my eyes again the same images as always flood into my conscious. The container, my capture, the torture. The same dream as always. And as always, I wake up with a beating heart and panic flowing through my veins. At least, I did not scream or Gibbs would be here by now. After a few breaths, I sit up to get a grip on reality again. I feel the sudden cold of the missing blanket and the soft rug underneath my feet. I pull my hand through my hair while the nightmare still runs through my head. For the moment there is nothing I can do about the tight feeling in my chest, about the phantom pains in my leg, about the shaking in my hands. I take a deep breath forcing my ribs to expand and exhale through my mouth. The tightness eases a bit but the pain from my broken ribs come back to bite me. Pushing my eyes shut, I try to get used to it or I wait until it eases. To no one’s surprise it is the first option. Slowly, I stand up to walk downstairs again. My steps feel frail and unsteady, but I make them. Downstairs I am blessed with the view of Jethro sleeping. He looks as peaceful and relaxed as I have not seen him yet. He is lying on his side hugging the blanket. The sight makes me smile, so at least for that it was worth it to come downstairs. But as I stand there and watch him sleep, I realize that I did not come down with a plan. My first instinct in this panic was just to get to him. No other plan. Again, I ignore what that means. I look around and see that my notepad and pencil still lay on the table from a few days ago. As silent as I can I walk over and sit down on a chair so I can still see Gibbs. Then I do something that I would never allow myself to do during the day. In the dark of the night, illuminated by the moonlight and streetlamps pouring through the window, I start to draw Gibbs. The peaceful way his eyes lay shut, the way his hair lays messy over his forehead and the way his soft lips are shut. I do not know how long I draw for. I do not even know what time it is. All I know is the panic slowly eases from my bones. Like every pencil line pushes some of it out. Every few seconds I look up at him to make sure I am drawing him right. That I get the light hitting his cheeks right and the way his hands look laying on the blanket. That I get the form of his arm and the arch of his neck the right way. Drawing him is difficult and easy at the same time. Difficult because I cannot seem to do him justice and easy because I seem to have memorized his face anyway. I am done with the general sketch and start shading when I hear him say: „Why are you looking at me this much?” Embarrassment floods my system and I let my pencil fall onto the paper.

“Just making sure I do not wake you up.” It is a blatant lie but I just hope he is too tired to notice it.

“What are you doing up anyway?”, he says ignoring my answer. When I look up at him again, he is looking up at me. How can his eyes shine even in the dark? It must be some kind of magic. “Just had a nightmare again.” That gets him to sit up.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah fine, just drew a little bit.” Immediately I regret pulling his attention towards my drawing. If he finds out I drew him, I am very certainly going to die of embarrassment. Without answering he sits up and slides his legs off the coach. With two long strokes he pushes his hand through his hair and face. “Do you want to sleep again? I can stay up.” His offer lets warmth break out inside of my chest. “What time it is?”

“Four am.”

“No, it is fine, have to wake up soon anyway.” His answer is a nod and he stands up to walk to the kitchen. Hurried I close my notepad and follow him. The hardwood floor is cold under my feet and I welcome the conflicting feeling. Everything to distract me from the way I react to every little thing Gibbs does. I listen to the rustling sounds of him making coffee as I study what he is wearing. A loose jogger is hanging around his hips and on top of that he wears an old worn grey shirt. All in all, it looks very comfortable. His hands move around habitually, I doubt he even has to think about the things he does right now. The coffee machine starts to do its thing and Gibbs turns around to look at me. He leans against the counter and looks at me expectantly. I know he wants me to open up, but for whatever reason I refuse to. Maybe that can be the wall I built between us, so we do not get to close. His eyes pin me down and maybe someone else would get nervous, but I just stare back. On instinct I cross my arms in front of my chest and lean back against the doorframe. We stay like that for a while, the only sound being the coffee machine. The problem with my plan to put up a wall between us is, that it is fun defying someone who usually gets everyone to talk. A grin tucks at my lips but I try to hold it down. It is clear that his patience is running thinner. I can pinpoint the moment it snaps because he pushes himself of the counter and steps closer to me. Maybe this plan backfired as well. Again, he is standing so very close to me and looks down at me. Without my heels I am smaller than him and have to angle my head to look into his eyes. His expression did not change, but standing so close I could examine his entire face. Which I do not. But I could. His left arm rises and he puts it on the doorframe I am leaning against. In a way I am pinned in place now. Of course, I could escape easily and he would let me, but I do not have the urge to. Our bodies almost touch, only one step from me is between them and it takes all my strength not to take that step. His eyes still burrow into mine to get me to talk. The longer I keep this up, the bigger my ambition becomes to win this, to get him to back up first. The coffee machine beeps behind us. Without breaking eye contact I say: “Don’t you need to get that?” That elicits a small smile from him but otherwise the does not react. The beeping stops and his smile grows like he just won an argument. Little does he know that my stubbornness is bigger than his. I grin back at him and pin my hands behind my back pushing my breasts forward. His eyes do not move from mine but he lifts one eyebrow at me. I just stay there and do nothing else. Slowly his face sinks towards mine, just millimeters, but I notice them. I can now see the different colors of blue in his eyes and the way they play together. I bet the coffee is already too cold. We are still looking at each other when the light in the kitchen suddenly stops working. Gibbs is the first to look around and notice that everything electrical in the kitchen is not working. “Get upstairs, take my gun from the night table and stay hidden until I tell you too.” I nod and run upstairs. As silent as possible I close the door, get the gun and press myself into Gibbs’ closet. The air is thin and there is only a little light coming through the cracks of the closet door. I try to be as still as possible, no movement, no sound. Pressing myself against the back of the closet, I position the gun in my hands so I can use it at any time. The time ticks by with adrenaline flowing through my veins but nothing happens. I scan the sounds and light movements outside the closet, but nothing happens. It feels like an eternity. Not knowing what is happening. Is it a real threat? Did Gibbs get hurt? Was it all just nothing? The thoughts rush through me head but there are no answers. No clarity. “Francesca!” Gibbs voice bellows upstairs. I hear the door opening and him pacing around the bedroom. When I am sure it is him, I get out of the closet and am met with Gibbs’ gun. “Don’t scare me like that.”

I just role my eyes and move on: “Is everything okay?”

“More or less.” He hands me a picture. My blood immediately freezes. The picture shows my mum cooking in her kitchen. But I am sure that she does not know this picture exists.  The shot is from outside her house through a window. On the bottom of the picture someone drew “XX” in red marker. “Gibbs someone is after my mother. We need to get her here.” The fear for my mother is clear in my voice and I bet Gibbs can see it in my face as well. “I know, we will get her.” I want to argue that we have to move fast but he just wraps his arms around me and hugs me tight. Trying to protest is useless, so I just let go of my fear and let him handle it for a few moments. Closing my eyes I push my face into his chest, protecting myself from the world. Gibbs holds me for a little while until he softly kisses my head and removes his arms from my back. “Come on, we got to get everything ready. You call your mother from my phone, while we drive to NCIS and prepare everything, okay?” I nod and move away from him. His worried eyes scan me again to check if I really am okay. Then he moves to take some stuff out of his closet and leaves the room. I try to get ready as well, but my head is a mess. If that threat is real, I could become an orphan. Losing both of my parents is not an option. Switching my shorts to cargo pants and putting on a bra is the only thing I do to get ready. There is not time for more. My hair is still a mess but I just throw it in a low bun to get it out of the way. When I get downstairs, Gibbs is already standing in the door waiting for me. I do not tell Gibbs, but I keep his gun on me. Just for the feeling of security. In the car, Gibbs just throws his phone over to me and starts driving. After I have typed in my mother’s number, I freeze for a moment. I have not talked to her since before my kidnapping. I have not told her anything. How do I tell her? To stop myself from obsessing over words, I just press call and hold my shaking hand to my ear. It takes her a while to answer.

“Francesca Morales, what do you think you are doing? You are scaring me half to death. First you do not answer my calls and now you call in the middle of the night! What the hell is your problem?” I forgot how badly my mother’s mood is when she has not slept enough.

“I am sorry, mum. But I am in trouble. Some people are after me and they have threatened you too. I am going to send NCIS agents over to you to bring you to D.C. Can you pack a bag?”

The line goes silent for a moment. “Francesca, who is after you?”

“I do not know, but please I need to get you to safety. Please, mum.”

I think it is my pleading that really worries her. I normally do not plead. Especially to her.

“Okay, honey. I will pack a bag. Tell me when you know details.”

“Thank you, mum. I love you.”
“I love you too, mija.”

I hang up and exhale to get rid of the knot in my chest. It does not work. She started calling me mija after my dad died. He used to call me that and to keep him alive that way so did she now. I let my head fall against the window and close my eyes to stop tears. Normally, I am not a religious person but right now I pray that my mother is going to be okay. After I give Gibbs his phone, he dials a number and starts to arrange the whole protection for my mum. Again, I am thankful that Gibbs just does everything without me having to ask. Of course, as the victim of the crime it would not be my responsibility, but I still feel like it is. Like it is my fault. I turn my head to look at Gibbs and give him a weak smile and silent thank you, when he looks back. He just nods and keeps driving. Back at the office he walks straight up to Vance’s office who is already here for whatever reason. Other than him there are only very few agents working. Most of them probably work with people overseas. Basically alone in the bullpen, I sit down on the floor between Ziva’s and Gibbs’ desk and lean back against the wall. I need a little break. Just some time where nothing is happening. Just silence.

Chapter Text

Gibbs

This whole situation is going to get me in trouble. I am always torn between my attraction and worry for Francesca. Even while I talk to Vance about her mother’s protection a part of my mind is always with her. Where she is, if she is okay. Vance ordered two Agents he trusts from San Diego to escort her to D.C. Walking down the stairs to the bullpen I see Francesca sitting down on the floor, looking like she is almost crying. My heart tugs me towards her with fast steps. I crouch down in front of her and let her notice me. As she acknowledges me she asks: “What did Vance say?”

“Everything is cleared. Your mother is going to be safe.” She just nods and exhales loudly. I want to say more but McGee and DiNozzo walk in. “You two, get everything you can about this picture and I want to know everything Fahid did or said after we left him.”

They nod and Francesca slowly stands up. She mumbles something about going down to Abby’s lab and leaves for the elevator. Just as she leaves, the worry returns.

A few hours later everybody went out to follow on some leads. I stayed behind to keep an eye on Francesca who is now pacing around the bullpen.
“They are on the plane, Francesca. They will be here in an hour.” She nods but does not stop walking around.

“I am going to go downstairs to ask Abby for an update again.” She leaves for the elevator and I follow her. Her mind is a mess right now. Whatever Abby says will not stay in her head anyways. I squeeze myself through the closing elevator doors and look at her in the warm light. She does not even acknowledge me she just stares against the closed doors. As soon as the elevator moves, I pull the emergency button. The light immediately turns blue and dark.

“What are you doing? I have to get to Abby!” Francesca reaches to grab the button but I hold her back by her shoulders. She is standing closer to me now. My hands make her shoulders look so weak.

“No, what you need to do is talk to me. Talking to Abby won’t solve anything.”

“And talking to you will?” Her anger comes back now. I can feel the power come back to her, defiance once again fills her eyes.

“Maybe.”

“Okay, so, so you want me to talk to you?” I let go of her shoulders and she starts pacing again. “You want me to tell you that I am terrified of losing my other parent? Of becoming an orphan? You want me to tell you that I feel like this is all my fault? That I put everyone I care about in danger? That I am fucking scared I am going to lose people again? That I lead all those monsters to you and your team? You want me to tell you, that I am terrified to be alone again? That you get hurt because of me? That my mum-“

“Wait, why are you scared for me? I am fine right here.” I take a step towards her and see her chest rise with her breath. “But you could be hurt because of me.” Her voice quiets down, it is almost a whisper now. “I cannot get a person I care about dead, just because they knew me. Just because I care.”

“You do not need to worry about me, Francesca.”

“But I do! I care about you and that is dangerous for you.” Tears slowly creep into her eyes. “I just need to know that everybody is alright.” I take a step towards her and put both hands on her cheeks. Laying my forehead against hers I say: “I am okay. I am right here and I am fine.” Her eyes find mine and a few tears fall from her eyes. The vulnerability and desperation in her eyes almost kills me. What also kills me is, that there is almost nothing I can do to ease her burden. I try a small smile to cheer her up but her pain just seems to grow.

“Please do not get hurt because of me.” A single tear escapes her eye again. Francesca puts her arms across me neck and my heart speeds up, like it has just realized that she cares enough about me to fear for my well-being.

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Good.” A deep breath escapes her, her face gets closer and her eyes leave mine to focus on my lips. Like in thought she repeats: ”Good, good” and then presses her lips softly to mine. My heart stops. The whole world seems to stop. I do not move so I do not ruin the moment. Francesca pulls me closer to her and we fall against the wall of the elevator. My hands move from her face to her head, to keep it from hitting the wall, and her back to keep her close. Her hands reach for my face as if to hold me, to feel that I am still there. Her lips leave mine and the absence almost hurts. Her eyes fly over my face and I take the time to scan her for any sign of her being uncomfortable. There does not seem to be any. Just worry and fear. So I whisper against her lips: “I am here.” Again, she pulls my face towards hers to kiss me again. This time I am not as hesitant. I pull her close to me, revel in the feeling of having her close. In the way her body feels pressed to mine. The way her back arches to get closer to me. Her fingertips curl around me head to grab me harder. The sensation lets goosebumps break out across my back. This time it is me who pulls away fighting against every fiber of my being.

“Are you okay?” She nods and gives me a small smile. Her head falls forward and she puts her arms around my waist, holding me close and firm against her. All I can do is hold her close to me and let her feel the fear. But really all I do is feel the worry and attraction to her grow even bigger in my chest. There is no way I can go without kissing her again. If I have to, I will compare every single kiss to the one I shared with her. The urgency and care with which she kissed me. Like I was the only thing keeping her rooted to the world. Honestly, I wanted to stay in this little elevator bubble forever. But reality kicked in quickly when I realized how long we have been in this elevator. Pulling her towards me again, I whisper in her ear:” Let’s see if Abby can tell us something.” She nods and slowly eases away from me. Of course, I want to pull her back to me. I want to kiss her again, make her feel better, but this is not the time and place for it. Her hand reaches out to release the elevator and she takes a step away from me, shyly looking to the ground. By taking a deep breath, I hope to release some of the tension in my chest, but it does not help. The tension just gets worse when Francesca walks out of the elevator before me and the distance between us grows. I follow her into Abby’s lap, watching her deliberate steps, the way her shoes hit the floor with force. “Hey Abby, do you have any news?” Abby turns around and scrutinizes us with her looks. She stays on me for a few seconds and then turns back to Francesca.

“The airport just reported that your mum’s plane landed. I kind of hacked in the airport security for you and here you can see her get off with her two agents.”

Francesca walks closer to the screen and watches an older woman with short light brown hair and eyes so similar to hers walk into the gate. Her whole posture seems to relax. “She is okay.” She whispers more to herself than to me or Abby. Her feet stay anchored to the floor not making any indications she might move. Abby shoots me a worried look but I do not know what to tell her so I just sign “She will be fine” to her. Abby rolls her eyes and signs:”Will you?” To that I have no answer. I do not know if I will be fine after that, if I can recover from the impact Francesca has on my life. Turning back to the screen we watch Francesca’s mother taking her luggage and walking out to meet Ziva and McGee. “Come on, let’s go upstairs. She is with us now.” I tell her, so Abby can get some work done. Francesca does not answer me directly but slowly turns away, thanks Abby and walks back to the elevator. As we wait for it to arrive, I realize that I cannot walk back in there again. I cannot pretend she did not just kiss me like she needed me to survive. Like I was the only thing holding her together. “I am going downstairs to Ducky for a minute, you go ahead and go back upstairs.” Without waiting for her reaction, I step away and hurry towards the stairs. The whole way I can feel her eyes on my back until I am out of her sight. I know it is childish to push her away now and to distance myself, but I have to keep myself in check about this. I cannot let it go too far.

I return from Ducky with more questions than answers. Apparently, our dead attacker killed himself with a rare poison. That is all he could tell me. So now we have to find out, where he got it from and why he had it in the first place. When I get back upstairs Francesca is sitting at Ziva’s desk and Tony is sitting at his. I tell them both the news and tell Tony to start digging. After that I also sit down at my desk and to some research myself. In all that time I never look up at Francesca, not once. I know that, because I have to physically stop myself from looking up at her, seeing if she is fine. It feels like torture, but I think it is better this way. To not let it get any further. A while later my sulking is disrupted by the elevator dinging and Francesca jumping up. On instinct I follow her sight and see McGee and Ziva walking in with Francesca’s mum. She has the same strong presence as Francesca, so I see where she got it from. The next thing I see is Francesca running to her mother and throwing her arms around the smaller woman. “It is okay, mija. I am okay.” After a few seconds Francesca releases her mother and looks back at her. It might not be apparent to everybody, but I can clearly see the relief and emotionality on her face. The love, care and worry she has for her mother shining through. “And you! Not telling me in how much trouble you are! What the hell were you thinking? I am your mother for gods sakes, you better tell me that kind of stuff!” Ziva and McGee take a little step away from Mrs. Morales but I just have to smile about her rage. I can definitely see her keeping a Navy Seal in check. Francesca apologizes but I do not think it really does anything to calm the anger and worry in her mother and honestly I can understand her. But I am not about to say that, to side with her mother above her is a death sentence. Mrs. Morales gives her daughter another stern look and then walks over to me. “So I hear you are the one looking after my daughter?” I smile and nod. She is definitely an excellent mother. “You better do the best job of your life. I am not losing my daughter and if anything happens to her…” Her facial expression tells me everything I need to know. “I am not going to threaten a federal agent, but you get de jist.” I nod again. “Not very talkative this one.”, Mrs. Morales says to Francesca and points her thumb to me. Francesca’s and my eyes meet and for a little she draws a breath. “No, not really”, she more mumbles than says. “Mrs. Morales lets get you settled. France you want to come with us?” She nods and all four walk away. I am alone with Tony and I feel him watching me. “What do you want, DiNozzo?” He does not answer for a few seconds. “Just making sure, you are okay, boss.”

“Worry about yourself.”

He does not answer again until he finds out, that the poison, the attacker took came from a Navy lab in Norfolk. They reported a few ounces stolen two weeks ago. “Why would a French terrorist living in Saudi Arabia steal poison from a Navy base when he can easily get it on the black market somewhere else? It doesn’t make sense.” DiNozzo states the obvious. There are easier ways to get a poison or something as a last trigger. Maybe he bought the poison from someone who stole it there, but even that connection seems risky for someone like him. It all does not add up for me. Even with more research from Tony, Abby and me there was no connection from the attacker to Fahid or Fahid to the poison. Everything was useless.

Frustrated and confused I leave the building at 8 pm. I have not seen Francesca since her mother came around and I doubt I will see her at my house. My guess is that she would like to stay with her mother, especially after I have avoided her all day. The thought of an empty house fills me with dread. After having her around I do not want to go back to the lonely silence. When I step inside, it is even worse than I thought. It feels cold and lifeless. A grunt escapes me and I go upstairs to change. At least her stuff is still here. The suitcase sitting perfectly organized in the corner of my bedroom and her toiletries perfectly spaced in my bathroom, as if they were always there. As if she belongs here. In a way I do not want to explore she does. When I look at the bed, the pictures of her and Shannon both pop up, which feels like a betrayal to Shannon. Maybe not as much as marrying three other women, but still a betrayal. To avoid the feeling I walk downstairs to the basement and start working on my boat. With liquor in my stomach and wood in my hand the loneliness is easier to handle. Easier to ignore, when I have to focus on carving the wood right. Building a boat takes time. It takes effort, skill and patience. It also reminds me of my dad. Of working on wood with him. But it also makes the time fly by. Without me noticing it suddenly is 1 am and I have to at least try to get some sleep. In a rushed decision I lay in my bed and not on the coach. The smell of Francesca fills my senses and, in a way, calms me down. Laying on the opposite side of where she used to lay, I can pretend she is still there. That I am not alone once again. I am deep in my feelings, which is probably why I only hear the footsteps when they are on the stairs. Instinctively, I grab my gun and aim at the door that is slowly opening. Francesca walks through and startles when she sees me pointing my gun at her. Her expression is raw and vulnerable. Slowly I lower my gun and ask:”What are you doing here?”

“Am I not still in your protection?”

“You are, but I though you would want to stay with your mother.”

She laughs shortly. “I love my mother, but if we stay together all the time we will definitely rip each other’s heads off.”  

Nodding I put my gun away on the nightstand and start to stand up. “All right, I will sleep on the coach.”

“No, no, it is fine. You can stay here.”

“But you can’t sleep on the coach we established that.”

“Yeah, I thought we could sleep in the bed together, so you won’t have to ruin your back.” She seems shy saying it. The way she adds the last part, lets me guess that it is a safety net for her not to show too much vulnerability. Luckily, I still see it. Unluckily, it warms my heart. “Okay, sure. I’ll stay.” I put my feet back on the bed and lay down again as she shuffles through her suitcase and leaves for the bathroom. A sort of excitement builds in my chest, which is stupid, because we are just going to sleep next to each other. But being so close to her again makes my fingers itch to touch her again. Laying on my back I push my palms against my eyes. I have to get myself together. I know I am saying that for a while now, but maybe today is the day it works. Of course, it will not be, though. Francesca walks in a large white kind of see-through t-shirt and tiny shorts. That is not supposed to be that sexy, but apparently on her it is. I close my eyes, so I do not have to look at her and she lays down next to me. Instantly, the smell of her increases and the bed feels warmer. All I can think about right now is the way she kissed me. That in all her hurt and anxiety she held onto me. She was honest and vulnerable with me. That means so much more than the kiss can ever do. Being the idiot I am, I ignored her. In fear for my own feelings. Now with her laying next to me, I realize how foolish I have been. Ignoring her is never going to work. It will only allow me to obsess over her more. So I do what I should not do; what my rules strongly advise against. I turn towards her and pull her towards me. Her back is flush against me her head lies on my shoulder. Her soft hand takes mine into it and her other moves towards mine laying on my stomach. I can feel her warmth, her breathing and the way she relaxes into me. Already I feel like I did something right, like I helped. Softly I place a kiss on her shoulder and say good night. I do not expect to sleep with her in my arms, but to my surprise sleep finds me very soon.

Chapter Text

Francesca

Seeing my mother safe did very little to ease my anxiety. Of course, as soon as I saw her, I was relieved. But as soon as I was not with her again, the worry started again. When we arrived at the hotel room she will be staying in for the near future, she gave me the verbal lashing of a lifetime. I do not think I have ever seen her this angry and worried again. Nevertheless, after she was done scolding me, she asked about my well-being, about the nightmares she knew I was prone too. This time I was honest with her. She was my mother she would know if I lied anyway. I told her about everything, also that my nightmares were getting better, when Gibbs was around. That little fact I tried to keep quiet, so McGee or Ziva did not overhear. It is not that I am embarrassed about my “relationship” with Gibbs, I just think that is something he would like to keep private. Even though she did not comment on that little fact, I knew she had her opinion and her thoughts about it. When we were done sharing and catching up, we just talked about dad and ate some takeout. For a while after dad’s death, we had a little ritual to do just that every Sunday. That was before she moved back to San Diego to take care of my grandma. It felt good, nostalgic even. It also felt good to talk to someone about dad. About the way he hugged and what he was like when he was not a Seal. His personality and the way we were alike. Why my mother fell in love with him and never stopped. All that of course hurt, but it also hurt less than slowly watching the memory fade. It was late when I agreed to let Ziva drive me back to Gibbs’ place. At first, I did not want to leave my mother alone, but I also know that us being in the same place is just as dangerous. If I was honest with myself, going back to Gibbs’ feels right and safe but I refuse to let myself feel that. Especially after he ran off this morning. I know I kind of jumped the kiss on him and I definitely did not think about the consequences, but I thought he would at least have the decency to act normal about it. So you could say my feelings were conflicted. Add to that the growing worry about my mother and I was a mess again. When I walked in, I expected to find Jethro on the couch again, but it was empty. What I did not expect was Gibbs laying in the bed I have not known him to sleep in and pointing a gun at me. As he saw me, I could feel the electricity in the air around us. It was in the way he seemed almost at a loss for words. I tried to get myself together. To feel stable again, I did my nighttime routine normally to feel some sort of normalcy in this whole thing. Regardless of my attempts, I felt the weight of the day weighing on my chest again as I laid back in bed. Just as everything threatened to crash down on me, Jethro pulled me towards him and protectively put his arms around me. It may not have changed the situation, but it made me feel less alone. My hands found his and I clung to them like they were me tethers to safety. His face was buried in my hair and his shoulder seemed the perfect height for my head. Everything about this felt like the perfect calm. As I wake up this morning, I am engulfed in something warm and the sun dances on my face. To protect myself from the light, I push my face further into the pillow in front of me. Just that it does not feel like a pillow. Opening one eye I realize that I am cuddled up onto Gibbs’ chest. My forehead is resting on his chest and his arms are both slung around me, like he is protecting me. My hands are both grabbing onto a piece of his shirt keeping him close to me. It all feels like we are trying to keep each other close. Slowly my body regains consciousness and I feel all the places we are touching. The way our legs are intertwined and the way his chest rises and falls. It should feel awkward but it does not. When I realize that Gibbs is neither going to let go of me nor going to wake up, I close my eyes again and relax in his arms. My hands release his shirts and I put one arm around his strong torso to hug him back. A deep exhale escapes Jethro and a smile creeps onto my lips. With the feel of his breathing under me I fall asleep again. For the first time in a long time I wake up to the sound of an alarm and not the kind you hear in your head when you panic. The kind meant to wake you up. I can feel Jethro rumbling and turning away from the noise. The problem is, he is turning me with him leaving me laying beneath him. The problem is not that I do not like the feeling of him on top of me. The problem also is not the pain of my still injured ribs. The problem is even if he is not fully awake yet, a part of him already is and I can feel it pushing against my hip. Heat pools in my stomach as he buries is face in my neck and puts his weight on top of me. For a second I forget the annoying sound of the alarm clock and just see the flashes of things we could do instead of getting out of bed. The other ways he could put his weight on me, pin me down. How he would look coming apart, losing control. How the heat in his eyes would look. How deep is voice could get. I was a second away from saying “fuck it” when Gibbs moves away from me and the cold air touches my skin instead. The cold air and the pictures in my mind give me goose bumps and let my nipples harden but I just hope that Jethro does not notice in his tired state. He is now laying next to me and turning the alarm off. “You okay?” God, his voice is all rough and sexy in the morning. I really need a cold shower. I just nod not being able to form any words. Against every instinct in my body I slowly move away from him to the other side of the bed and take a deep breath. Without another word he stands up and walks out to the bathroom giving me a view of his muscled legs in his briefs. As soon as he is out of earshot I turn onto my stomach and groan. Not getting hurt is really difficult when the temptation is that good. I hear the water running in the shower and sit up to get ready myself. Pulling my hands across my face I try to get a grip, focus on something other than Gibbs. Which is hard, because he is currently completely occupying my mind. I am as awake as I seldom am after waking up, nevertheless, I still stand up to make some coffee downstairs. A sound coming from the bathroom stops me in my steps. It almost sounds like a groan, maybe a moan, coming from the bathroom. Maybe I am imagining, but I still freeze on the spot. I must have really lost my mind because I hear something that sounds a little like my name followed by a moan again. Breathing becomes hard and I feel like the air is getting hot around me. As the water stops I regain power over my body and make my way downstairs. Making the coffee takes longer than usual, because half my brain power is occupied trying to keep the images of Gibbs out of my mind. I know that technically there is nothing speaking against me getting involved with him. Except that I already feel way too much for him and developing real feelings, that are more than just attraction, is dangerous. For me because I do not want to get hurt again and for him because if he gets even closer to me he might be in more danger. Besides all that, I am too much of a mess right now to make any good decisions, so I just stay out of his way until I am back at my mother’s hotel room. Getting a hug from my mum made me feel like a child again. Like coming home after a bad day at school.

“Good morning, mija.” Her voice is calm and soft like a bandage to my bleeding wounds.

“Hi, mum.”

“Okay, ladies. I am going to get a coffee, there is another agent out front if you need anything.” Tony gives me a quick hug before leaving. As the door closes my mother turns to me and says: „Okay, so what is going on?”

“What do you mean?” “You are all small and quiet. Where is your temperament?”

“Well, I have just been kidnapped and tortured that might have something to with it.”

“Yeah, yeah the first two weeks maybe. But now, where is your sense of justice? What is on your mind that much, that you aren’t even angry?” I sit down on the hotel bed and sigh. My mother sits next to me and looks at me patiently. “I don’t know. Things just have been really messy. Everything reminds me of my time in the marines and all that.” I stop and look down onto my hands. My mother looks at me expectantly. “And?”

“Aand I mayormaynothaveacrushonGibbs.” I speed through my response and let my head fall into my hands. “Ah, there it is.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “You always made yourself so small when you liked someone.”

“That has nothing to do with that.”

“Sure it does. You are letting him fight for you. Normally you would fight for yourself no matter how traumatic everything was.”

“You do not know how messy everything is right now.”

“Maybe I do not, but I know you holding back is making everything harder than it needs to be.” I stay quiet and lean against my mum’s chest. She puts her arms around me and softly kisses my forehead. “What if I follow my feelings and instincts and I get hurt again?”

“What if you don’t?” The question floats around in my mind for a while. The mess in my chest emerges again and I refuse to push it down. I stand up and pace around the room trying to work off some of this nervous energy. “Okay, mija, enough talk. You need a good old confidence boost.”

“No, mum, come on. I am not 16 anymore.”

“I don’t care. I am your mother, I left my home at 4 am for you, you can let me pamper you.” I have to laugh and hug my mum.

She always knows what to say and do to make me feel better. Like she has a sixth sense for me. Even though she is only here to stay safe, it is good to have her around in such a difficult time of my life. Excited and with a youthful spirit my mother pulls me to the bathroom and starts her “confidence boost routine”. It is something she invented for me when I was a teenager. For one it was a chance for her to spend time with a judgemental, irritated, moody teenager, but it also got her information about my life, I normally would not tell her. Also, it helped us bond during a time I thought I did not need my parents anymore. Spoiler: I still did. The “confidence boost” starts with her washing my hair over the bathtub while I sit back and relax. She massages my hair would start asking me about school, just that she now asks me about Jethro. Normally, I would not like talking about it, but it also felt good to let all those thoughts out of my head. When my hair is all clean, we do a couple facemasks while she paints my nails a dark red. She always calls it a “femme fatal red”. Seems more fitting now than it did with 15 but still it soothes something inside me. Afterwards we have a snack, this time provided by DiNozzo who brought us Muffins from his coffee run. Later I find out, that my mum told him to get them the second she saw me. While we eat we watch “Legally Blonde”. It is my old favorite movie and perfectly fitting for the whole thing my mother is trying to attempt. While we watch I put my head on her shoulder and let myself be a daughter again. Not a woman, agent or lover. Just a daughter. Finally letting go of all the reins of control I used to hold on to is freeing. Like weight has lifted from my shoulders for a second. And like everytime my mother gets angry about the sexism in the movie and tells me to never take any shit from men. I think I have learned that, but it feels good that all this has not changed one bit. When the movie is done my mum does my eyebrows and gives me a little face massage. It all feels like a spa treatment just homier. More comforting. Even though it all seems so meaningless in comparison to what is happening in my life right now, it does help make me feel stronger and surer of myself. In the end it does boost my confidence to take care of myself and have someone care for me this much. One thing changed about the routine since I have turned 21. When we are done, we open a bottle of wine and down it while watching romantic comedies and eating take out. It may not be healthy, but it is fun. It helps stay in this little bobble she created for us. That is why when McGee drives me back to Gibbs’ I am maybe a little tipsy and tingly. Packed with the advice my mum gave me when Tony was out of earshot, I walk downstairs into the basement. To my surprise Gibbs is not home yet, so I have time to look around. I guess you could say the basement is a coordinated mess. For someone who does not know where everything needs to be it looks like it is all lying around but it has a system. Smiling I walk around and find a bottle of liquor and an empty mason jar. Might as well drink a little more, I think, pour myself a little and start drinking while I look around at all the history of this basement. It smells like wood, liquor and Gibbs’ cologne. It smells so much like him, it is almost like walking into his arms. I am sitting on the workbench with my second drink, getting drunker with each sip, when Gibbs comes in. Now that I have admitted my crush to someone else, it goes wild. His presence seems to lighten up the room and for a moment time stills. My attention focuses completely on the way he walks down the stairs and towards me. Ready to stop repressing my emotions, I say:”Hi.”

Chapter Text

Gibbs 

As I walk down the stairs towards Francesca, I notice that something changed. Not only was she drunk, the fire in her eyes is also back. She is looking at me like she wants to eat me. In a good way. The way her eyes look up at me from the rim of the glass she is holding almost gives me goosebumps. “Hi.” Her voice is soft but full of innuendo. I do not answer until I am standing in front of her leaning against the body of the boat I have been building. “Found my burbon?” She nods and takes another sip while holding eye contact. I definitely need to stop this whole thing right now but I do not find the strength in me do so. All I do is focus on her lips hugging the glass and the her throat bops as she swallows. “Is your drinking an indication for a good or bad day?”  

“Oh, I had a good day.” Putting her drink down she rests her hands beside her legs on the edge of the counter and slowly leans forward. Someone could break in right now and I would still be entranced by the way she moves. Her radiance is hypnotizing right now with her soft waves wildly framing her face and her lips smiling a little crooked.  

“I can tell.” My lips instinctively follow her lead and smile.  

“Then why did you ask?”, her tone is not mocking but teasing, challenging me to spar with her. 

“Just to make sure.” Without thinking I make a few steps towards her. It is like something is pulling me towards her.  

“Can you answer a question honestly for me?” Her eyes find mine and she licks her lips. I should say no, I really should, but my attraction and curiosity get the better of me and I nod. 

“Why have you not kissed me yet?” Even though I suspected she would steer our conversation this way I am a little stunned by her bluntness.  

“You have not asked or offered.” Her laugh blooms through the room as an answer.  

“You do not seem like the man who waits for things to come to him.” 

“Normally no.” 

“So what is different now?”  

“For one you are vulnerable and I do not want to take advantage of you.” Francesca rolls her eyes. “And I do not mix the job with personal business.”  

“Who says you would take advantage of me?” She jumps down from the workbench and stands dangerously close to me. The closeness makes thinking hard and breathing even more difficult. The air seems to hum from the energy between us. 

“I am.” 

“And if I would ask you to take advantage of me? To kiss me right now?” Her chest is now almost touching mine and her head is tilted up at me. My hands start sweating in my pockets but I do not pull them out in fear that I would give into the temptation and touch her.  

“Then I would say that you are too drunk right now?” 

“Nonsense. I am perfectly clear. So you are saying you would want to kiss me?” 
“Do you even have to ask?”  

“Yes, I do because you have not shown any sign of liking me. Well, except when you are asleep?” Her eyes shortly fall down my body and pick up mine again. God, this is going to kill me. Francesca reaches out to push her hands up my torso and sparks fly across my skin.  
“Now, Gibbs tell me, are you attracted to me?” My heartbeat is going through the roof right now and I am not sure I even get enough oxygen.  

“Yea, Francesca, of course I am attracted to you.” As soon as the confession leaves my mouth, I feel the weight of it in the air. All those “what now” question surround us, but she does not seem to care. She smiles a devilish smile up at me and pushes her hands into my hair. Like they are possessed my hands leave my pockets and I pull Francesca back up onto the work bench and step between her legs so we are face to face.  
“Then do something about it.” Our faces get closer together but we still hold eye contact.  

“Like I said, you are too drunk.” 

“Like I said, I am not.” 

“Too drunk, to give consent for me to kiss you.” 

“What if I give you very enthusiastic consent?” The way she emphasizes “very” shoots energy down my stomach, but I try my best to ignore the heat and need she ignites in me.  

“Still.” It is getting harder and harder to not give in, but some principles are not meant to be bent.  

“And if I beg you to?” Our lips almost touch when she says it. A desperate laugh escapes me and I let my head fall onto her shoulder to escape her warm dangerous eyes for a second. When I look up, I see her grinning smugly, like she is proud to have found something that affects me. “Please Jethro, kiss me.” Her last word is nothing more than a whisper, but it takes everything in me not to give her exactly what she wants right now.  
“You are making me crazy. Not while you are drunk, marine.” I call her a marine more as a joke, to make it sound like a command, but when I see how her smile falls from her lips, I know it was the wrong decision. She just says “okay” and slips away from me and up the stairs. Even though I want to follow her, I do not. I give her space. I do not know if me not giving in or me calling her a marine is the problem, but I do know that I am not going to push the knife in deeper. So I am standing there in my own basement, suddenly feeling like I am overheating. I pull my hoodie over my head and start working on my boat to stop from looking at the clock. The pull is strong, but I do not touch the mason jar of bourbon Francesca left. Slowly I pull the sanding paper over the wood and try to keep my focus on the sound it is making. Normally that would be easier but now that Francesca made her move right here, it is difficult to forget. After a little while I give up and walk back upstairs to try to sleep. When I move towards the couch, I see a piece of paper laying on top of it. “Don’t be an idiot, come up to bed” is written on it. I smile to myself and follow Francesca’s order. I go to the bathroom to complete my short night routine and silently move to the bedroom. Francesca is turned towards the middle of the bed and seems to be sleeping. Her face looks peaceful with her hair falling softly into her face. Smiling to myself I lay next to her and push some hair behind her ear. That seems to stir her out of deep sleep. She does not wake up completely but slides closer to me and sighs. I pull her closer to me so that her head is resting against my chest and my face lays on her head. A deep sense of calm surrounds me and I fall asleep.  

When I wake up the other side of the bed is empty. I turn around and notice that the sun is just starting to rise. With a groan I stand up and walk downstairs to search for Francesca. I find her siting on the counter in the kitchen and drinking a tea. “Morning.”  

Her head snaps in my direction and she hugs her legs folded in front of her. “Morning.”  

“Why are you up?” 

“Couldn’t sleep.” 

“It is 4 am on a Saturday, you should try again.” 

She shakes her head and takes another sip. 

“I am sorry, about last night-“ 

“Rule Number 6. Don’t apologize. It is a sign of weakness.” 

Rolling her eyes she says: ”Then forget about last night.” 

“Why? You were honest.”  

“I was drunk.”  

“You were not that drunk.” The tea mug slams loudly on the counter and she jumps down.  

“Either I am drunk or not but decide which.” 

Somehow her bad mood amuses me. I like the fight. 

“Do I?” 

“Yes.”  

Her eyes slam shut and she shortly massages her temples.  

“It is too early for this.” She walks back to get her tea but does not take it because she grabs the corner to stable herself.  

“Are you okay?” Her nod is unconvincing because she seems to have trouble standing up. “Just a little headache. I am going to try to sleep again.” As she tries to walk back her knees buckle and I only just catch her before she falls. With a weak voice she tries to tell me that she is fine but from the way it looks no one would believe her. Sighing I pick her up against her protest and bring her back to the bed. “I am fine, just a migraine.” She is just mumbling and her eyes do not open to look at me while she says it. After I lay her down she buries her head into the pillow, shielding it from the light. In response to that, I walk over to the window and pull the curtains close to give her some darkness. She releases a small sigh, which I take as a good sign. Nevertheless, she still looks weak and in pain. Worry slowly nags more and more at my chest. Without another word I walk out of the room and dial the number of the agent protecting Francesca’s mother.  

“Gibbs, I need to talk to Mrs. Morales.” It takes him a few moments but soon Mrs. Morales answers: “Is everything alright with Francesca?” Her voice is paniced. “More or less. She is having a migraine. Anything that helps her?”  

“Oh no, that happened last time”, she mumbles for to herself than to me. “What last time?”  

She ignores my question. “What always helps is a Salt-Ice pack on the head and hot cloths on the feet. She also needs to take strong pain medication, she won’t want to, but she has to. If you want to be really nice, you can make her a chicken soup with ham and tomato.” Mentally I take notes. “And of course, head massages, but you know that is just extra.” I can almost hear the grin through the phone. “Alright, thank you.”  

“Thank you, Gibbs.”  

Without another word I hang up and call Tony. 

“Morning, boss.” 

“I need you to buy a few things for me.” 

“It is four in the morning.” 

“And?”  

“Be there in an hour.”  

I hang up again and start working on the icepack and hot cloth. It does not take long until I am back upstairs and laying the cloths on Francesca. She is half asleep and clutching the blanket on her side. When the cloths touch her skin, she releases a small groan again. Without me noticing a smile forms on my lips before I walk back downstairs to make a lemon tea. With the tea, pain killers and a chair in hand, I walk back upstairs. I put the tea on the nightstand and sit down on the chair next to Francesca’s side of the bed. Her eyes slowly open. “Hi.” Her voice is not stronger but at least she looks less in pain. 

“You need to take your pain medication.” 

“No, I am fine I just need to sleep.” 

“No, you need to take the medication.” 

“What do I get if I do? Will I get a kiss?” 

Francesca smiles softly and I laugh shacking my head. For a moment I sigh and say: “Yes, you will get a kiss Francesca. Now, take them.” I hold the tea and medication towards her and she reluctantly takes them. “Satisfied?”  

“Not really. Now try to sleep.” 

“So commanding” 

With a smile she snuggles more into the blanket and closes her eyes. I stay sitting next to her and watch her slowly fall asleep. A few times I adjust the cloth on her head but other than that I stay silent. After an hour I walk downstairs to wait for DiNozzo. He brings me the groceries and I shut the door before he comes in. With all the groceries in hand I take them towards the kitchen to cook the chicken soup. When it is softly cooking and everything is done, I walk back upstairs. Francesca seems to be sleeping but one hand reached out laying off the bed. In a way it looks like she was reaching out for me. Sighing I lay down next to her to get some more sleep myself. With one arm slung around her waist I fall asleep again.  

What gets me to wake up again is something cold laying on my neck. The cold spreads around my chest and I put my hand on my chest to warm it and notice something wet. I open my eyes and see the ice pack that had been on Francesca’s head laying on me neck. Francesca herself is curled into my shoulder again. I put the icepack on her forehead and pull her closer to me. In the safety of her sleep I allow myself to really take in the affection I feel for her. The way my heart beats every time I realize she is looking at me. The way everything stops whenever she makes her advances towards me. The way worry hollows my chest when she is hurt, in pain or having a nightmare. Also, the way the nagging feeling that I cannot start everything with her sits in the bottom of my stomach almost constantly. She may not be a coworker, but she is still a witness in a case. Even though the case is mainly about her to me. Everything is complicated with her. The fact is, that I really got to get myself together. I allow myself a soft kiss on Francesca’s head and then pull away from her. In the kitchen I check on the soup again and then sit on the couch to read. It really does not help to get me to calm down. It also does not help me not thinking about Francesca. The problem is, I do not know if I want her to leave so I can get her out of my mind or if that would just make it worse. Maybe I just have to wait until the case is solved and then things will get back to normal. All those thoughts are put to death when Francesca walks downstairs. Her presence empties my head for a second until she talks. “Hi. What is that smell?”  

“Chicken soup.”  

“You made chicken soup?”  

I nod and turn back to my book so I do not have to see the finished grateful look I saw forming on her face.  

“How did you know?”  
“Called your mum.”  

“Really?” 

I only shoot her a look as an answer. She walks out of the living room towards the kitchen and comes back a little later with a bowl of soup.  

“Thank you, for taking care of me.” 

“You feeling better?”  

“Yeah a little. Have not had a migraine like that in a long time.”  

“When was the last time?” 

“About 15 years ago.” 

I do not comment on the fact, that her father died about 15 years ago. Or on the fact that her mother mumbled about the last time. I also do not comment on the fact that she is obviously hiding something. Nobody knows when the last had a migraine with that kind of precision. But now is not the time to question her about it. It is silent again while I read until she brings her bowl back to the kitchen.  

“I am going to go upstairs, my neck and head is killing me.” 

“Maybe you should call someone to give you a massage”, I say mindlessly not thinking about the implications. She stops dead in her tracks. 

“Did my mother tell you about that?” 

“Hmh.” It takes a lot for me not to look at her right now. Not to analyze the look on her face.  

“Then why don’t you do it?” 

“Is that a request again?” 

“Yep.” 

“The migraine does not stop your temperament, does it?" 

She laughs and towards me. Groaning I curse myself that I have put myself in that position again. I curse myself even more because I do not to anything when she lays down on the couch and leans against me with her back to my chest. Somehow, I tend to ignore all my rules when it comes to her. Without thinking I start to slowly massage Francesca’s temples and her neck. I can feel herself relax on top of me and her muscles slowly loosen up. Everything about this woman drives me crazy and being near her has gotten way too comfortable way too quickly. But staying away has also gotten way too painful. Both things truly show that I am thoroughly screwed.  

Chapter Text

Francesca

Laying in Gibbs’ arms is as comfortable as I have been in a while. The way his hands massage my head, jaw and shoulders makes me melt into him. Not to mention the way my migraine eases under the pressure. I know Gibbs has doubts about us getting close and I understand why, but something about his care with which he tries to lessen my pain makes it hard to believe. It still has not quite sunken in, that he called my Mum to ask how to help me. Not only that, but he did everything she suggested. I am a firm believer in act not talk, and the way Gibbs acts, leads me to believe that he cares. Cares in a way, that is more than just for a case. The persistent woman that I am, I make it my mission to make him admit it. But right now, the pain is too blinding to make a plan for it, so I just focus on Gibbs hands. Which is not hard considering, his hands leave a tingling feeling everywhere they go.

We spend the rest of the day cuddled up until I Gibbs gets a call from the CIA and hands it over to me. I sit up and answer. “Hello, Special Agent Morales.”

“Agent Morales, this is Dr. Allister. I just wanted to remind you that your psychological evaluation is Monday at 10 am.”

“Excuse me? Nobody told me anything about that.”

“Special Agent Mueller said he would tell you.”

“No, no he didn’t.”

“Well, just come over to the head quarters on Monday, everything will be fine. But the good news is, when we are done with the interview you can go back to work. Of course, only when your doctor says you are good to go physically.”

The good news is the doctor sounds nice enough.

“Okay, well thank you for the reminder, Dr. Allister. I see you on Monday.”

“See you on Monday, Agent Morales!”

I hang up and stare at the phone, the headache threatening to split my skull. Gibbs just stands in front of me waiting for me to talk.

“I cannot believe this son of a bitch is ruining my career!” I forcefully put the phone on the couch and start walking around the living room. “Agent Mueller is such a hypocrite!”

“What did he do?”

“He neglected to tell me about my psychological evaluation! I only know because the psychologist called you! I would have missed it.”

He nods and looks at me intently. “So what now?”

“Now, I only have one to two days to get ready for the evaluation. I mean there is not much to prepare but still. It is the principle of the thing.”

I stop pacing and get another bowl of soup. The taste reminds me of home and childhood. It also eases the headache a bit. Overall, the whole thing calms me down. After that I start to draw again, because I have to keep my hands busy. While Gibbs works at his boat downstairs, I continue the sketch I made of Gibbs a few days ago. The only problem is, I do it in the half dark, so my migraine does not get worse.

On Sunday afternoon I am laying on the couch listening to the old western Gibbs is watching on the TV. He is sitting on an armchair, drinking a beer and watching the movie. The whole day is spent with me curing the aftereffects of my migraine while Gibbs just does his normal Sunday activities. The problem is, that everything Gibbs does is attractive to me in some way. The way he cooks, takes care of me, works on his boat. Everything. It is frustrating. Even the way he is sitting down drinking a beer is attractive. His hands flexing, how his lips curl around the bottle and the way his hair looks falling on his forehead. Even in my post-migraine head it is all too much to look away from.

It is evening when it gets too much to stay quiet. We are in his basement again me sketching the boat while he hammers some more wood pieces on it. I lay down my pencil and say: ”You know, you still owe me something.”

Jethro looks up at me from the place he is leaning towards. His eyebrow shoots up in question asking me to keep going.

“For taking the pain medication.” He smiles.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, definitely.”

The whole scene is a little too familiar now. Me sitting on the work bench, pursuing him.

He looks down on the ground and moves over to me. All that would make me hopeful, but his face is deeply conflicted, so I step back emotionally.

“Look, Gibbs, if I am making you uncomfortable say so. I do not want to overstep here, but I kind of have the feeling this attraction went both ways.”

He sighs and stops to lean on the workbench beside me.

“You are not wrong”, is all he says.

“Then what is the problem? I am feeling pretty needy here.”

“The problem is, I do not get personally involved in cases and you are a big part of one.”

I stay silent for a while trying to gather my thoughts so I can properly formulate an answer.

“Not to step on your toes here, but aren’t you already?”

His head falls back into his neck and he pinches his nose. “Yes, I am.”

My heart picks up at his confession, waiting for him to do anything else.

“I am and that is the problem.” His hand reaches out to touch my cheek with his hand. Warmth spreads across my cheek and butterflies bloom in my chest.

“Why is that a problem?” My voice is breathy and the grin forming sounds through.

“Because normally I would stay away from problems. But you are very hard to stay away from.” He leans further down and our faces get closer together. Right now, his eyes are all I see. Just the deep blue and the smell of wood, liquor and fresh aftershave. I bite my lip and watch his eyes snap down to my lip.

“If you already broke a rule, why not embrace it? No point in only breaking it a little bit.” My grin spreads and I tip my chin a little upwards to meet him. He slowly shakes his head as a grin spreads across his face, illuminating his eyes.

“You are such a bad influence.” That is the last thing he says before he finally dips his head and crushes his lips onto mine.

It feels like fireworks going off inside my chest. His lips are soft and pressing deliciously on mine. The callouses on his hand scrape onto my neck giving me goosebumps and his other hand pulls me in by my waist. My body is flush to his and steadily heating up. But still it was not enough. Trying to get closer to him, I push my hands into his hair holding his head close to me. In this moment time seems to be standing still. As Gibbs moves his lips something in my chest seems to click into place. Normally, I would worry about the way we just seem to fit perfectly, but right now I have no space in my brain to worry, all I can do is seize the moment and feelings going on right now. Still sitting on the workbench, I pull Gibbs’ hips further into me by my legs to feel him closer to me. I fear that this feeling is too good to resist in the future. Still, I have the urge to memorize everything about this moment. To map out the feel of his face beneath my fingers and catalogue every detail of his touch, just in case I never get to feel it again. I file away how the kiss seems to morph the tension between us into something more; something stronger. Like something fundamental in me is now linked to him, to the way he let me grief and hurt in my own way without judging me. To the way he stayed respectful when I almost begged him not to. To the safety he projects without realizing; without making me feel incapable. Suddenly I am really grateful to be sober. Drunk me would not have been able to fully process the way the kiss feels. Sober me barely does. Jethro holds me strongly in his arms like I am something precious that might just slip away if he is too careless, if he lets go just a little bit. I also do not mind how our bodies feel pressed together, fitting together like two perfect molds. Maybe my feelings are overreacting to this kiss, but I do not mind. I am passionate, that makes me stronger, sense more. It also makes me hurt more but right now all the hurt fades away perfectly. The kiss grows hungrier, like we are desperate to feel the other even closer, like breathing only works when we are touching each other. In reality though I am out of breath and have to stop the kiss to take a breath. With my forehead against his I watch his eyes drink mine in. I hold his face in my hands slowly swiping my over his cheeks. His smile has fallen from his lips and the only thing left is an intense stare. Usually, I can read Gibbs’ stare, but this is new to me. One of his hands cradles the back of my head with its fingers intertwined with my hair. For a second Jethro pulls his head away to really look at me. Not being sure what to make of it, my worry rises. His other hand reaches out to put a strand of hair pack behind my ear and his face goes soft.

“You are so beautiful”, he whispers. I do not know if he said it to himself or me, nevertheless I heard it and warmth spreads around my upper body. Not knowing what to say, I pull him down to kiss me again. This time the kiss is gentler and softer. Like all the sentiment is carved into it. This time he pulls away first. “I don’t think I can stop doing that now.”

We smile at each other and I say: “Who says you have to?”

“Normally, I would.”

“Don’t all rules have exceptions?”

“Apparently you are the exception to all of mine.”

“Good, I kind of like it.”

He kisses my forehead and pulls me into his arms. I take the moment to breathe him in and try to get a grip on what just changed between us. Even though it also seems like a huge shift, it also feels like a long time coming. Like something was just waiting to happen.

“You can go back to your boat now, didn’t want to hang you up too long.”

A booming laugh emerges from his throat and his eyes twinkle in a way I cannot stop staring at. Pointing one finger at me he says: “You are impossible.”

I grin back at him over his finger and answer: “Isn’t that my charme?”

He grins back and gives me a deep kiss before slowly pulling back and working on his boat again. There is no way I could go back to drawing something other than Jethro right now. As I slowly draw the outlines of his figure working on the boat, questions start to float my mind. Mainly about the woman in all the pictures. I am not jealous normally, but I cannot push off the nagging feeling.

“Jethro, can I ask you a question?” His expression tells me that my question was unneccessary. “Maybe this is none of my business, but who is the woman in the pictures with your daughter?”

He lays down the wood and hammer and takes a deep breath. The silence following feels like he is trying to gather his thoughts, trying to figure out what to tell me or how to tell me. “That is Shannon. The mother of Kelly and my first wife.”

“I am sorry. What happened to you two?”

“She died with Kelly.” I give him time to tell me what he wants to and stay silent.

“They got killed in a car accident by a drug dealer because Shannon was going to be a witness in his murder trial. I was deployed when it happened.”

His hands start fidgeting with something on the wood. I know they are no words to lessen his burden, so I just walk over to him and hug him. He is a little confused at first but then welcomes the embrace and hugs me back. After a few seconds I let him go and say: ”That was really brave of her to do. Thank you for trusting me.”

“Not to be insensitive, but; First wife?”

A small smile returns to his face. “First of four.”

“Four?”, I laugh.

“Kind of married the wrong people for a while.”

“You sure did.”

I grin at him and he looks at me like he waits for me to comment more on the whole thing.

“Come on, let’s hear it.”

“Hear what?”

“The comments.”

Honestly, I could imagine all the comments he would get about this fact but – while it is kind of funny – I can still understand the things trauma makes you do.

“No comments from me. Trauma can make you do crazy stuff. Or people.” We grin at each other. In some way I feel closer to him now. Even though the four marriages are a flaw about him in some way, knowing those about him are not making me like him any less. Marrying the wrong person over and over again because you lost the right one and the pain scarred you too badly is understandable in a way.

“Any more traumas I need to know about?”

“Do you have a few days?”

“Good to know.”

Honestly, I do not need to know every bad thing that ever happened to him. If he wants to tell me, he will. I just need to know who he is now. And what I see now is extraordinary.

“Says the woman who has just been tortured.”

“Hey! Don’t be mean.” I push my fist against his chest but he catches my wrist and pulls me towards him.

“How was that mean? You laughed about my three divorces.”

“Gallows humour.” Taking another look at my grin he throws me over his shoulder and walks back upstairs. I lightly punch his back, but he is relentless. When we get to the bedroom, he throws me on the bed and says: “You are impossible.” Afterwards he walks out leaving me alone in the bedroom grinning to myself.

Chapter Text

Gibbs

Francesca’s good mood from the day before quickly fades the next morning when she her evaluation gets closer and closer. I have agreed to go with her as protection but according to the CIA I am only allowed to stay outside. While I am pretty sure it is only Agent Mueller’s rule more than the CIA’s per se, I still follow it to not get Francesca into more trouble. Now it has been two hours since she left and I am anxiously waiting in the car. The sun is glaring down on the entrance of the building I am watching while turning a coin in my hand. I was almost about to get out of the car, when I hear Francesca. I hear her yelling at someone before I see her getting escorted out. She pulls her arms away from the two agents and stomps towards my car. Before I can read her and get out of the car, she gets in and slams the door of the car with way too much force. “Drive” is the only thing she says. Her voice is strong, forceful and full of anger. Even though I like fighting with her, it was clear that annoying her now would be deadly. She would talk when she is ready. I drive us back to the Navy Yard in silence waiting for the bomb to go off. It happens when we drive past a park and she tells me to stop. Not wanting to anger her further, I stop on the side of the road and watch her stomp away into the park. The worry that rose in my chest for the last two hours pounds at my ribcage as I run after her. Grabbing her hand I turn her around and try to stare her down. Francesca looks up at me breathing heavily while grinding her molars. “What happened?”

“They are the biggest lying sons of bitches. They fired me.”

Her hand slips from mine as disbelief spreads.

“What?”

“Apparently, they have evidence that I gave sensitive information away, which I never did! Of course, I told them that the email they found wasn’t from me, but they didn’t believe me. I have been betrayed by them again.”

She paces around the grass trying to get the anger out of her system.
“I cannot believe this. They fired me. They fucking fired me!” On the last word she forcefully kicks against a tree. Her chest heaves from the anger and all I can do is look at her. My anger rises as well but matching her anger would not help her right now. So, I push it down and stay silent. In my gut I know that this is no coincidence, that someone has it out for Francesca. She looks at me expecting me to say anything but I just pull her into me. She is reluctant but eventually lets me hug her. Her head falls against my shoulder and I feel her relaxing under my touch. Maybe not relaxing but the firmness leaves her muscles. “We are going to get them, Francesca”, I whisper I in her ear and feel her slowly nod. When I release her, tears fall down her cheeks, but she does not look sad. She looks furious and determined. Like someone is going to pay. Like she is planning revenge right now.

“Come one, let’s go back to NCIS.” I pull her into my side and we walk back to the car. At the NCIS Francesca immediately goes downstairs to Abby’s lab, so I briefly fill everyone in. McGee starts trying to find out where CIA got their information from. Tony and Ziva go back to finding out who kidnapped her. I go back to reading files about Justin McAdams. Besides Fahid he did some jobs for several national and international terrorist groups and crime organisations but for the last few years there is no record of him working for anyone, so that is a dead end as well. Ziva slams her phone down and gets my attention.
“We have a problem. I just talked to a contact at Mossad and they intercepted some chatter from Fahid. Look at that.” She turns on the screen in the bullpen and puts up a message from Fahid. In it he describes how Francesca has too much of an attitude and that he was going to start doing something about it. He asks the recipient to make something up. The email is from six days ago. Believing that message means believing Fahid was never involved. That our investigation is in need for a completely new lead. “Are you fucking kidding me?” All four of us turn around towards the sound. Francesca is standing in the entrance of our bullpen, looking just as furious as when she left the CIA building. Nobody says anything until Francesca walks – more runs – away again. On instinct I follow her to check up on her. In run I yell: ”Find another lead!” towards Tony and Ziva. I follow Francesca down the stairs and all the way towards the gym. Before she stomps towards the boxing area, I stop her. “Gibbs, let me go.” Her eyes flare in anger and stare right into me.

“Not before you talk to me.”

“I am done talking.”

She pulls away and starts throwing punches at the boxing bag. Again, I pull her away. “You are still injured. If you need to use gloves or fight me, but do not injure yourself further.”

For a small moment she stares again but then she shrugs of her blazer and shoes and pushes me towards the fighting mats. Sighing I do the same and position myself in front of her. I can see her need for autonomy, independence and revenge right in her eyes. “Do not hold back, Jethro.” I smile at her and wait for her to come for me. It takes her a few seconds until she throws the first punches and I divert her into stumbling forward. “Come on, Morales. You can do better.” Fury washes over her face before she swings her leg to kick me in the face. I catch her ankle just for her to use that stability to jump up and kick me in the stomach with her other leg. For a second I let go of her leg and topple over. Afterwards she grabs me by the neck to throw me down on my back and sit on top of me. The small grin on her face makes the pain in my back worth it. But I was still me, so I am not going to let her defeat me that easily, so I push her up by my hips and use that force throw her off me. In her fall I pull my leg around her neck to keep her down. Her fingers wrap around my calf and I am almost ready to call my victory, when she pulls me foot to the side and pushes me thigh up, forcing me to turn around onto my stomach. Francesca wraps one arm around my throat pulling my head up and pins one arm down with her foot. Softly she leans forward and whispers in my ear: “Beat, Jethro?” Goosebumps emerges on my neck and I grin. Gently I pull my leg up into a 90-degree angle and wrap my arm around the foot stabilizing her on the ground. With a strong momentum I push her down from me and jump to my feet again. Francesca does the same. Her anger seems to have lessened and ambition has taken its place. Again, she strikes towards me, but I duck away and throw her over the shoulder by her waist. I walk over the wall, slam her against it with as little force as possible and push her up by her throat. Her ambition is now replaced with something else, something primal. Slowly I let her down and pin her against the wall. “I think I have won.” Her nod is small but I recognize it, so I let her go.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“Any injuries hurt?”

“My ribs a little, but it is fine. Thank you.”

She smiles softly. In her eyes is a form of gratitude I rarely see. It shines with warmths and appreciation so intimate I feel like we are in our own world. Just for a moment I look around if we are alone and press a kiss to her lips. Pulling back, I see her smile brightly at me and I say: “I am sorry about your job.”

“Jethro Gibbs, did you just apologize to me?”

I take a few steps back and laugh.

“Did you just break rule number… What number was it again?” “6.”

“Aah yes, Rule 6. Did you just break Rule Number 6?”

The smile she now wears is unlike any I have seen. It seems brighten up the whole room and I feel like kissing her again. Her eyes shine with joy and humor. Just to see her smile like this again, I would break every rule I have.

“Seems like I break my rules a lot around you.”

That turns her smile into a grin as she pushes herself of the wall.

“Okay, Jethro, I know I am not an NCIS agent, but I am also not a CIA agent around, so I thought I could assist you on the case now.”

“I will talk to Director Vance.”

“Thank you.”
With a small kiss on my cheek, she walks away taking her blazer and shoes with her.

Director Vance allows Francesca to work on NCIS computers, if she is supervised. That he stresses greatly. All I care about though is that Francesca can do her own research; feel helpful. In the bullpen I let Francesca sit down at my desk despite the weird looks from the rest of the team. With everyone busy on the case, I take a break to get some coffee. Not only that but also to just get a moment to myself. Breaking my rules always makes me nervous. Like I am losing control. I seem to lose that a lot around Francesca. But staying away is just not an option anymore. I do not know what to do when we find whoever did this to her. When I have no excuse to be around her anymore. To keep her close to me. When we would normally pull apart, what do I do not to lose her to the normal life. What happens when I lose appeal because she is not in danger anymore. How do I shield myself from that pain when I cannot even stay away from her? Groaning I sit down at the coffee shop for a second to get myself to calm down. My chest is full of worry, anxiety and anger at the same time. The coffee momentarily calms me down but not long enough. I want the people to pay for what they have done to Francesca. The anger so powerful in my chest I am afraid it might overtake my reason. But since I have no justification I like for my anger and reaction to Francesca’s pain, I push it down. I will work at the boat later, alone. That will help me get my head right. With a second coffee to go I back to the office to work. Without a second delay, I walk into MTAC to have a meeting with the DOD Agent specialized in home grown terrorism. She does not have a good knowledge of Justin McAdams, but she did send me a list of operations capable of the planning it took to get Francesca in captivity. With the new intel in hand, I walk back downstairs to get back to work.

Chapter Text

Francesca

Just when you think your life has unraveled enough, it breaks down even more. Losing the job I worked so hard for pains me less than I thought. What really pissed me off was being wrongfully accused. I have principles and honor more important to me than a job will ever be and being having people think I broke them is unbearable. At least people at the NCIS believe me. At least Gibbs believes me. With even more persistence than before I start researching Justin McAdams and anything that could possibly lead to my father. All to no luck. I really do not know how anyone could possibly believe my father was alive. I checked every document regarding his death I could find and everything checks out. Frustrated, Gibbs and me come back to his house at 9 pm. Gibbs immediately sits down on the sofa do keep watching a movie, while I go upstairs to try to sleep. To no ones surprise, it does not work. I toss and turn in the bed for a while but there is nothing working. When life was still normal, I would sometimes enjoy a little masturbation to calm down and go to sleep but doing it here in Gibbs’ bed with him downstairs feels weird. So I just keep trying to sleep. One problem is, the more you try, the less it works. The second problem is, the more the option of an orgasm manifests in my head, the more the images of Gibbs and what he could do flood my mind. Now, I am frustrated in more than one way. I wrestle with myself again, not wanting to be the one to start anything again and wanting to see what would happen. It takes a while for my curiosity to win. With soft steps and a tingle in my chest I walk downstairs again. Gibbs is laying on his back on the couch with a vintage looking sweatshirt on. He watches me come down the stairs with interest in his eyes. As my steps carry me more towards him, he sits up and plants his feet on the ground. “Can’t sleep?” He asks before taking a sip of his beer.

“Nope, not really.” I stand in front of him and take his beer from his hands. His eyes follow me and stay on my lips as I take a sip. Grinning I put the beer down and put my knee on his legs. His hand softly grazes my skin, eliciting goosebumps on my legs.

“That’s all you came here to tell me? That you cannot sleep?”

His blue eyes flash up at me with jest. Just for that mocking tone, I push forward and sit on his lap with my legs straddling his hips.

“Yeah, just that”, I say innocently watching his reaction to me. He grins lowly and his eyes seem to darken. In answer to my words, he gently pushes both hands up my legs until the tips of his fingers lift the seem of my shorts. My heart starts beating faster just from his touch. Heat rises under his fingers and the tingle in my chest starts spreading down my stomach. Gibbs leans forward, his lips almost touching my neck he whispers: “I really don’t believe you.” The hot breath on my neck makes my eyes fall back into my head. Without me thinking my hands grab his shoulders and my hips buck into him. His soft laugh touches my skin before he pulls away and I can see the gleam in his eyes. As my hands slowly travel up his neck, his do the same grabbing my hips under my small shorts.

“No underwear, Francesca?” The way my name rolls of his tongue does more to me than it should. All I can in response is shake my head and bite down on my lip. Without another word he crashes his lips onto mine and puts one arm around my waist to pull me closer to him. Ferociously I kiss him back, pressing my chest against him.

Our tongues touch and butterflies erupt in my chest. His fingertips dig into my flesh sending waves into my lower stomach. A soft sigh slips out of me and I feel Gibbs grinning into our kiss. As I softly grind against him again, I can feel him hard underneath me. Feeling how he reacts to me makes me even hotter for him. He guides my hips to move on him again, rubbing my sensitive spot against his erection. A strong tingling sensation breaks out inside my lower stomach making my toes curl. His hands pull away from my hips leaving illusionary handprints behind. I push further into him trying to get him to touch me again. “So desperate”, he whispers against my lips and I shiver in response. I open my eyes and see him scanning my face. My cheeks heat, so I comb through his hair to get a reaction of him. One of his hands grab my face, tracing my lips with his thumb, while his other hand reaches to the bare skin of my waist barely touching the underside of my breast with the tips of his fingers. In the heat of the moment, I reach out with my tongue to lick down Jethro’s thumb. The icy blue immediately snaps down to watch my tongue flatten against his finger. A low growl escapes him before he pulls me against him again kissing me even deeper than before. While his lips move against mine, his hand moves from my waist to my breast, cupping it gently in his hand. Two of his fingers move up, softly twirling my nipple between them. Again, I moan into his mouth and he seems to feed on the sounds I make, spurring him on even more. While one of my hands still cups his head, threading my fingers through his soft hair, my other strongly grabs the sweater at his shoulder. “What do you want me to do, Francesca?” He moves his head to the side softly kissing my neck. So soft he almost does not touch me. His teasing makes it hard to breath and even harder to think.

“Come on use your words. Do you want me to make you cum, Francesca?” The rumble and deepness in his voice and the depth of it make me go just a little crazy. There is no way I can form a rational thought right now. “Come on, baby, use your voice.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what? Ask me nicely.”

I open my eyes seeing him grinning at me, waiting for me to answer. I know he is having fun, playing with me, but I will not make it easy for him, so I do not say word. Instead, I lean forwards kissing his jaw while gripping his hair stronger. Before I can place another kiss further down, the hand on my cheek slides down to my neck, grabbing it at the front and pushing me away from him. I would be mad if I he did not do every little thing that turns me on. I stare into his eyes as he waits for me to say something, but I am stubborn. I am not going to give in that easily. With the hand still on my boob he starts playing with my nipple again, trying to get a reaction out of me. Lucky for him it works. I moan again, impatience rising in my chest. Gibbs hand squeezes a little tighter on my neck while he kisses my jaw mimicking what I did to him. The combination of sensations he conjures up, makes me break my stubbornness and breath out a soft “yes, please”.

He grins letting go of breast and says: ”Very good.” His hand travels further down until he barely touches my clit making me arch into him. His middle finger slowly drags through my folds before he starts circling my clit with his now wet finger. My breath starts to get shallow and my eyes fall shut. My whole attention zooms in on the places he touches me. The hand on my throat keeping me in place, the wrist pressing against my skin and his finger playing me like a puppet. The skin of my thighs pressing against the hard jean material of his trousers, the soft hair and the sweater in my hand. Faster than normal pressure builds in my stomach and in reaction I bite down on my lip. Jethro starts to work his index finger into me until my head falls back and he adds his middle finger while finger fucking me in a slow, punishing pace. The pressure starts to build even more making me moan even louder. “Come on, look at me while I make you cum.” I open my eyes to see him smiling at me with heat in his eyes. My head falls a little forward leaning against his forehead, when he pushes his palm to my clit massaging it, while pushing further into me. “God”, I moan at him, while my eyes almost fall shut.

“Jethro is enough, Francesca, now keep looking at me.”

He keeps his pace, softly stroking my G-point, consequently making the pressure threatening to explode. My legs start to shake around his waist, tingling with excitement. “Cum for me, Francesca.” His whisper and the look in his eyes, let the bubble in my stomach explode, sending waves of pleasure through my body. Jethro keeps me in place by my throat, keeping me from falling forward as the orgasm ripples through me. His hand keeps moving until my legs stop shaking and I catch my breath. As I try to get my breath in an even rhythm, Jethro pulls his hand out of my trousers. Still looking into my eyes, he puts the two fingers who were just inside me into his mouth licking them off. That alone could get me going again, but the sudden tiredness and fatigue coming over me prevents me from doing that. In the last moments Jethro’s hand has moved from my throat to my cheek, his touch becoming softer. I can still feel him hard under me, but instead of making another move he pulls me against him in a strong hug. Straight away I melt into him, my pulse calming down and my breathing getting deeper. When he begins massaging my head and playing with my hair, I am done and fall asleep right on top of him.

What eventually wakes me up is the gentle rocking of Gibbs’ steps as he carries me up the stairs. Again. It is not that I am really awake, I am just slightly conscious about the fact that he is moving. The gentleness with which he lays me down on the bed makes me feel incredibly cared for. But as I try to get him to stay with me, he pulls away. I pull the blanket tighter around me, hoping for the warmth to come back. It only takes Gibbs a few minutes to return to the bed. I feel the bed dip beside me and I turn around anxious to touch him again. Like the last few nights, he takes me into his arms, so we could both fall asleep. One of his arms lays protectively on my waist while my head rests on the shoulder of the other one. It almost feels normal to fall asleep in this position now. To fall asleep so close to him, that I can smell the minty toothpaste he has just used and the normal sandelwood smell of Gibbs. If I were fully awake, the speed with which I got so attached to him would terrify me. But right now, all I can feel is a deep calm engulfing me, pulling me into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning, I wake up to Gibbs’ voice softly stirring me awake. He plants soft kisses on my forehead making me smile. Afterwards we go about our normal morning routine, like we always do. When Gibbs comes downstairs and grabs the coffee, I get over myself and start a conversation I have been dreading:”Gibbs, about yesterday-“

“Francesca, everything is alright.”

“No, I want to apologize for coming on so strong and then not returning the favor.”

His eyebrow jumps up. “Returning the favor?”

“Yeah, you know.”

“That is not how it works. I did what I did, because I wanted to, not because you asked me to. Do not ever feel like you have to do something ‘in return’ if you don’t feel like it.”

I nod slowly not knowing what to say. Before I can find any words, he walks into the kitchen to get himself a coffee. To avoid any confrontation, I go upstairs to get ready myself. But even then, his touch still lingers on my body like a pleasurable phantom pain. Flashbacks of last night keep coming back to me, despite of what I do. That alone would not be the worst thing, but I wondered what it would be like if we actually slept together. How deeply would it change how I view sex then? Sighing I put on a baggy jeans and a formfitting shirt, before I walk downstairs. Instead of finding Gibbs at the table reading the paper, I find him standing in front of it staring at something. As I walk up behind him, I see that two pictures lay in front of him. “Hey, whats up?”

Without any words, he takes a step back to let me look at the pictures. By look on his face I already know it is something bad. It is actually worse than bad. The picture looks to have been taken by the same person who photographed my mother. It shows me sitting on Jethro’s lab from outside the window. You can see his hand up my shirt and from the way I have my head angled against his you can tell we are making out. The second one is worse. As a picture per se it is a good one, I might even say I look good in it, but knowing that someone sat outside of the window and watched us is just creepy. The second pictures me with my head thrown back, Gibbs hand on my neck and a look of pleasure on my face. In red ink someone wrote “Once a whore, always a whore” on it. Nice. Instinctively, I take a few steps away from the pictures.

“Great, this is just great.”

“It is going to be fine. This will get us leads.”

“Oh great, and the fact that someone staked out your house does not freak you out at all?!”

“No, I hate it, but there is nothing we can do about it, besides find the people who are doing this to you.”

I hate that he is being so rational right now. I hate that I have to deal with that right now. That someone is targeting me like that. Not just to find out where my dad is but specifically to torment me.

“Fine, but nobody sees these except Abby. The others don’t need the gossip.”

He nods, probably happy that they do not see those pictures either. I grab a new coffee whilst he bags the pictures and then we are off to NCIS. The car ride and walk to the building are spent in a comfortable silence. Despite that my nervousness grows the closer we get to work. I am not embarrassed about last night, but I also would not want the people Gibbs works with to judge me for it. I have experienced my fair share of slut-shaming, and even though I know that it is not my fault and that it is nothing to be ashamed of, I still cannot stand the way the judgment makes me feel and look to other people. When the elevator doors close, Gibbs pulls me into a hug again and gently kisses the side of my face. “Everything is going to be fine”, he reassures me before he lets me go and the doors open. My steps towards Abbys lab are shaky and insecure, but they are ones I have to take. Luckily, Abby greets me with a big hug, calming my nerves. Overall, the classicness of her lab – the music, the flair, her outfit – eases my worry.

“What can I do for you, very special agent Morales?”

Abby’s smile is infectious, but mine is only half as bright as hers.

“Can you lock the door before we speak?”

“Sure.”

With a confused look she walks over to lock it and then looks at me expectantly.

“I got another set of photos in the mail.” Hesitation rises but I push it down and give Abby the pictures, Gibbs found in his mailbox. As she realizes what is on them she lets them fall to her table and stares at me with a big grin.

“No way! No, no, no way! Are those real?”

Her excitement is a little embarrassing, but way better than any judgement. I nod and she starts jumping around.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe this! I knew it, I knew it. I told McGee that you would totally fit together.”

“Excuse me?”

“Work gossip, get used to it. So, are you two dating now?”

“There is no label or talk about what we are. And can you please analyze the picture and stuff so we maybe find a lead about who photographed us with a telescope lens?”

That seems to snap her back into work mode. Like she did not realize before what those pictures really meant, besides that me and Gibbs are a thing somehow. Her expression darkens.

“I will find out who took those photos and believe me I will make them pay.” On the last word she stomps loudly emphasizing her point.

“Thank you, Abby.” I smile at her and lean against the table. “Also, would be awesome if you didn’t tell everyone what was on those pictures.”

“I will keep my lips sealed, now scram so I can get work down!”

I give her a quick sidehug and walk out of her lab, to get her the privacy she needs to work out what the fuck is up with those pictures.

Chapter Text

Gibbs

The problem with staying away from someone who is irresistible is that it does not work. I was ready to fall asleep on the couch, but then she came downstairs with that look in her eyes and all logic and reason went out the window. Even though, I will never regret touching her – and I loved every second of it – it is hard to fight the urge to touch her again. As soon as she comes back from Abby’s lab I have to physically stop myself from touching her. From claiming her as mine, despite her not being mine. She sits down on my desk and McGee rises to show us something he found.

“I was able to restore some of the security footage from the container you were held at and identified one of your captors as Petty Officer Ryan Mason stationed in Norfolk. He has been UA, since your kidnapping.”

“Yeah well, he should be. I did my basic training with him. We were in the same unit.”

Anger rises in my throat and I can see the same rise in her eyes.

“I can’t believe this. I never had any trouble with him. Why would he do this?”

“He was also suspected of dealing drugs in his unit, but that is about all that is sketchy about him”, McGee goes on.

“I will talk to his CO, find out who he was close to, interview some people.”

“Take Ziva with you.”

Tony and Ziva grab their things and walk away. In turn Francesca sits down at Ziva’s desk and starts to research something. After about two minutes of her violently typing on the keyboard I walk over and tell her that I am going to bring her to see her mother.

“No, I can help more here.”
“That was not a request, that was an order.”

Defiance flames up. Nevertheless, she stands up and walks to the elevator with me.

The doors close and she pushes the button to get it to stop.

“Do not speak to me like that!”

Her fire is back and bigger than ever. She may think she is mad about that, but I guess it is the only thing she feels any control over right now, so I let her fight me about it.

“Right now, you are a part of my team, a witness to protect, so I will talk to you how I talk to everybody else.”

“Do you make everyone in your team cum on your hand?”

I almost laugh but I suppress it and just stare at her with a knowing expression.

“Didn’t think so. So, you will show me a little more respect!”

I could tell her that she did not want me to be respectful last night, but I have the suspicion that it would just make her explode.

“In case you didn’t notice I am showing you as much respect as the people who I trust with my life. So maybe you have to reiterate how respect looks like, Morales.”

“You are not my boss, do not order me around.”

“No, I am not. But your fury was making me crazy, so I couldn’t work. And I am tasked with finding the people doing this to you, you just have to stay alive.”

She does not answer me but only stares at me angrily. I wait a few moments until I start the elevator again and we silently walk to my car. As I start to drive towards her mother’s hotel, I notice someone following is. I take a few dangerous turns, drive in circles and the car is still behind us. I dial McGee’s number.

“McGee, I need you to get me the owner of a car with the plate GHU368.” I can hear him type in the background, while I see Francesca looking back through the mirrors.

“It belongs to a Josephine Franklin, but she reported it stolen three days ago. So a dead end. Why?”

“We found it. It is following us. I will take a few detours and then we are going back to my place, call a squad car.” Without waiting for an answer, I hang up and abruptly change lanes earning a honk from a car I cut off. It does not take long for the grey sedan to turn up behind us again. Francesca sits extremely still, pressing herself into the seat.
“It is fine, if he wanted to do something he would have.”

She does not answer, but I also do not expect one. Five minutes later I hear sirens behind us. They tail the car following us, but the driver starts speeding through cars and makes a turn and with that stopping his chase of us. The police car proceeds to chase it, but I am not hopeful. At least he stopped following us. Ten minutes later we are home again. For the first time in I do not know how long, I lock the door behind me. Francesca sits down in front of the couch out of eyesight from anyone outside and puts her face between her knees.

“This is all a nightmare.” I almost do not hear her mumbling, but I recognize the sentiment.

“We are on it, Francesca. We will get them, I promise.”

A small nod is all the answer I get, before she lifts her head looking at me with a devastatingly exhausted look in her eyes. I squad in front of her, laying my hand on her knee.

“I just need some good news.”

“Well, good news is, you are alive. You got people who care about you.”

“Do you care about me?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“I want to hear it.” A small smile returns to her face. Just enough to make me do everything she wants.

“Yes, I care about you.”

Her smile grows. “Thank you.”

Pushing forward slightly she kisses me softly, shortly making my mind go blank. When she pulls back, I can see the deep vulnerability she is showing me. It breaks something open in my chest. Like an old chest has been opened. My heart starts beating rapidly at the prospect of what it means. Still, I try to close myself off to the feelings because as much as I like Francesca, there are still some things she is holding back. I might trust her, but I do not trust myself to feel that much for someone again.

We wait for a few hours to see if anyone is coming to stake out my house again. When nothing happens, we go back to NCIS. Returning to Mrs. Morales safe house would be too dangerous. While I get back to work, Francesca goes to the shooting range. Even though my worry for her spikes like it always does when she is not around, I can take a pause from pushing down my emotions whenever I look at her. Of course, I notice all the times my team stares at me. How they look up at me like I have something on my face or like I have changed right in front of their eyes.

“Anything you have to say?”

Immediately they all look down on their desks and mumble that they have nothing to say.

“Any new information?”

They all stay silent and look around hoping someone else has something to say. My flat palm meets my desk with enough force to rattle my screen.

“Damn it! This has to have been planned, records of meetings, money exchanging hands and none of you have a single clue! You do not know who kidnapped Francesca, who is behind it, where they got the poison, why they think her father is alive! Is there anything you know?!” My voice gets more and more enraged as I voice all the questions we still have not answered. Silence stretches through the bullpen. Even the other departments have mostly stopped talking. I do not care. I am angry. I do not like it when criminals are a few steps ahead of us, especially when it pertains someone I care about.

DiNozzo is the first to actually say something: “I tracked the container to a supplier in New York. He says an “Eric” bought it with cash but that is all he could tell me. Apparently, he wasn’t there when “Eric” bought it.”

“Have you followed up, who actually was there?”

“No, I would have to make the drive to New York.”

I stare him down. As if the trip was the problem. Of course, I would want him to make the trip.

“Okay, will do.” He takes his stuff and I tell him to take McGee with him. They leave quickly and I look back at the screen. At the service records of Ryan Mason. All the entries are positive except one, a fight with a petty officer in his crew. With hope for a new lead, I dial the petty officer’s number and wait for him to pick up. Luckily, he does and I start to ask him questions about the fight. There is no surprise in his voice when I tell him Ryan is involved in something criminal.

“That was actually what our fight was about. He was protecting marines who sold drugs on the ship. When I tried to talk to him about it, he got defensive and said he got influence high into the navy. After I pressed him about it, he started shoving me around, it was not a big fight, but I stayed away from him.”

After the conversation I take a moment to take in what I just heard. From the way Ryan was talking, it seems like he was involved in some kind of organization and protecting others in it. While I have no evidence of it, it would certainly make sense. Sighing I pull my hands across my face.

“Everything alright, Gibbs?”, Ziva asks looking at me with concern on her face.

“When you tell me you got something.”

“I only run some background on the people his CO said Ryan was close too. Some of them have been arrested for drug possession or selling drugs. Just two out of the six names he told me, but it is suspicious.”

“Especially, when Ryan protected people who sold drugs and told people he had influence into the high ranks of the navy.”

“He has to be involved in something in the bad in the Navy.”

“Yeah, that worries me.”

Chapter Text

Francesca

I spent the day practicing my shooting just so I can feel prepared. The next day, even though I am heavily protesting, Gibbs drives me to my mother’s safe house. I am sitting disguised and handcuffed in the back, so no one follows us based on recognizing my face. It was all so much just for me to see my mum. Again, the situation feels hopeless. But seeing my mum and talking to her helps. I believe she is almost madder at the whole situation than me. That alone helps alleviate the pain of everything. Knowing that I am not overreacting. That I am not just sensitive, but that someone is really doing me wrong. It is just soothing to have someone with me who knows everything about me and just knows when things hit home. And my mum certainly does. Although it was Gibbs’ ideas for me see my mother again, I am not going to give in and tell him he was right. I like him a lot, but I still have my pride.

Later than evening I am sitting on couch drawing while Gibbs is downstairs working on his boat. I know I really should give him some time to be alone, but I am greedy. I miss his touch, his presence. And honestly, I want to see how far I can push him. How far he is willing to go. Not because I want him to be uncomfortable, but because I want to see what kind of influence I have on him. Putting my pencil and pad to the side I walk downstairs to see what he is up to. When I first see him, he his leaning into the body of the boat. His legs are hidden underneath a pair of jeans that should not fit this good and a grey shirt on which he pulled the sleeves over his shoulders revealing a muscular set of arms. The whole view is just amazing. When I reach the middle of the stairs, I stop walking and lay both arms on the railing so I can prob my head on top of it. In my gut I know he noticed me, but I secretly hope he did not, just so I can observe him moving like nobody is watching him. But I can see it in the way his back muscles flex under his shirt, that he noticed. He waits a few minutes for me to make a move until he talks: ”Enjoying the view?”

“Very much, thank you.”

I smile and keep walking downstairs until I sit on the workbench again right next to his glass of bourbon. Taking a sip of it, I look into his eyes, which have followed my movements. Without another word from me he walks over and abandons his project. His blue eyes are full of fire while he walks over and strips the gloves of his hands. He reveals flexed, veiny hands. This man is going to be the death of me. I put down his glass just as he stops in front of me and pulls me into a passionate kiss. Overwhelmed from his boldness, it takes me a second to adjust to the emotions running wild inside me. His hands both cup my face holding it close to him. After my first startled reaction, I put both my hands at the side of his upper body softly curling my fingers into the fabric of his shirt. When my tongue softly traces his lower lip, he growls and pulls away from me.

“You should not be allowed to walk around in those tiny shorts around the house.” I grin at him and push my breasts into him.

“Why not?”, I ask faking innocence.

One hand leaves my face and reaches behind softly pulling my head back by my ponytail.

“Because you make it impossible to concentrate when you walk around flaunting those long legs.”

“Is that so bad?” I grin up at him, my head still angled back from his hand on my ponytail. His head shakes slowly as it lowers and places soft kisses on my neck. My eyes fall shut as he pulls his tongue across my neck and puts his mouth next to my ear: “You want me to lose control, don’t you?” A small nod is all I can muster. The tension sizzling in the air sucks all the oxygen out of the air making it hard to breathe.

“You are dangerous, babygirl.”

A shudder runs across my spin as the uses one of the nicknames that always makes me lose control. Before I can say anything or make a noise, his lips are on mine again. His one hand stays on my hair while the other pulls my back towards him making me arch into him. In answer to that, I hook both legs behind him, while one hand finds his neck tracing the blood vessels pumping under the skin. His tongue softly touches mine, leaving goosebumps on my skin. The heat in my lower belly rises and rises making my skin heat up with pleasure. His kiss ignites something in me that I did not know existed. My hands find the seam of his shirt and I pull it over his body, silently begging him to take it off. Luckily, he takes the hint and takes it of for me. Immediately as it falls to the ground his lips find mine again. Greedily, I run my hands over his torso, feeling the muscles flex under my touch. After a few seconds of kissing, he grabs my sweater and roughly pulls it over my head. His hands on my bare skin leave trail of explosions wherever they go. He softly grazes the back of his knuckles against my skin while staring into my eyes to register any reaction I show. The left hand slowly wanders from the lower middle of my stomach higher against the fabric of my bralette holding my boobs in place. As he grazes the swell of my breast, I let out a small breath and lean into his touch. Without touching me further his knuckles move across the fabric hiding my hard nipples begging him to touch them. My chest rises and falls rapidly, my body trying to get enough air to feel every little sensation. With my eyes closed and my attention solely on his soft touch, I do not notice him lowering his head. What I do notice is his breath against my neck before he bites into it, pulling my skin making me moan. The contrast of the two sensation makes it so much better. All I can do to not start begging him to touch me more is grind against him. I can feel him hard in his jeans just as I can feel the wood under my palms where I lean backwards against the workbench. “You like feeling me hard against you?” I nod, biting my lips. The way his words are turning me on is something to be studied. The lower tone and roughness of it making me even wetter than I was before. My hands find his neck pulling him towards me, so he kisses me again. Our tongues touch and fight making my face tingle. I grab his head strongly keeping him close to me, while he palms my breast and holds me close by my neck. Softly and slowly, I move one of my hands down Jethro’s skin feeling goosebumps erupt wherever I touch. I hook one finger under the waistband of his jeans before letting it snap back against him. Afterwards I trace the outline of his hard dick and revel in the way it makes him shiver. His hips jerk forward pushing my hand touching him between my legs. I trail my fingertips over him while he begins to massage my clit over my shorts. The friction is deliciously torturous, but I still crave him touching my bare skin. I take my other hand from his neck to pry open his jeans to gain better access to him. Just as I open his zipper both of his hands reach out to grab my wrist pinning them down on the wall behind me.

His nose touches mine as he leans over me with a devilish grin. “Being needy now, Francesca?”

“Felt like you were too, Jethro.” I mirror his grin before I lean up to bite his bottom lip.
“You little devil.” The breath from his words hit my lips right before he kisses me again. He now has both of my wrists pinned down under one hand and uses the other one to slowly trace up my inner thigh. If I wanted to, I could get out of the hold he has on my arms, but I honestly would not want this moment to end. Shivers run down my spine as he slowly pushes his hand further and further up my leg until he almost touches where I want him to.

„What would I find when I touch you now? Are you wet for me?“

I nod and open my eyes to look into his.

„Tell me.“ His words are soft but commanding. While I am dying for him to touch me, I do not answer how he wants me to. I push my boobs further into him and say:“Why don‘t you find out?“

„Or I could just stop touching you until you tell me what I want to hear.“

I can feel my heartbeat picking up and my eyes darken. When he actually slightly moves away and lessens his grip on my body, I have to give in:“Yes, I‘m wet for you.“ I do not say it loudly but I know he feels like he has won by the way he grins at me now. His finger only slightly dips inside me sending little shocks through me. A low growl escapes him, growing the pressure in my chest. That is when he starts to circle my clit with the littles pressure making me pant. As his hand keeps torturing me, his lips land on my neck again, softly biting it. The way his teeth scrape over my skin makes my eyes roll back into my skull. His mouth slowly lowers to the swell of my breast, placing soft kisses on top of it. In the same moment he ups the pressure on my clit, he bites into my breast softly sucking the flesh into his mouth. This will most definitely become a hickey, but I do not have the brain capacity to care right now. The hand holding up my arms loosens its grip, grabs my hair again. I take the opportunity of having my hands free again to palm Jethro‘s dick and hearing the air getting pushed out of his lungs. With a soft touch I move my fingers up and down his dick over his briefs.

„You think your being clever, huh?“ His mouth still hovers over mine. I want to grin up at him but without warning he pushes his finger inside me making me moan against him. My hand still hovering over his dick, gets pushed flat against him just from the jolt going through my body. „Now you are really touching me.“ Grinning I drag my tongue over his lip, mimicking the way I pull my hand up his erection. I detect a small shiver but other than that he remains infuriatingly still, while I am already becoming a mess under him. As I push my hand under his waistband, I look deep into his eyes to detect any kind of uncomfortableness. I stop shortly before I can touch his dick. Before I can actually ask if it is okay, he says:“ If you do not start touching me right now, you will regret it.“ I grin and surround his dick with my hand. His eyes fall shut and he presses his mouth against mine. Even though I cannot see him, I can feel his size is above average. The thought alone of having him inside me, makes me see stars. From that moment on everything becomes a mess of pleasure. Every time I touch him in a especially good spot, I can feel his fingers getting more intense. We work each other while touching whatever we can with the other hand and kissing sloppily. Everything is just a delicious chaos of sensations. I do not know how long we stay like this until my pressure builds and builds and spreads from the bottom of my stomach up to my whole body, pushing the air out of my lungs. My moan gets swallowed by Jethro kissing me intensely before I can feel his stomach flex before me and he is panting himself cuming into my hand and onto his stomach. Afterwards we stay still for a moment both of our chest heaving heavily. We just lean against the other, looking into the others eyes and smiling softly. When some strength has returned to me, I loosen my grip on his dick and lick the cum of my hand while still looking into his eyes. The salty taste coats me tongue making me hungry for more. In response he pulls his hand out of my shorts and lays his still wet fingers onto my tongue. Tasting myself on his fingers really does not help calm down the hunger I feel for him, even though I just came for him. I close my lips around his fingers sucking on them while he slowly pulls them out. With a grin on his lips he shakes his head and puts his other hand on my cheek.

„You are insatiable, aren‘t you?“

Before I can answer him, he goes down on his knees and pulls my shorts to the side. „Gorgeous.“, he whispers. I could feel his breath against my vulva while I lean back against my palms again, so I do not fall over. After a short look into my eyes, he pulls his tongue up my folds making me arch into him and moan. I can feel how I am way more sensitive to every touch of him because I just came and I know he is going to use that. Anticipation runs up my spine and a small shiver goes through me. The workbench is hard under my palms, but I barely feel them. All I feel is his tongue playing with clit and his hands spreading my legs apart. His touch is so soft it is barely there, but I feel it so intense I think he might be using magic on me. Times stands still while he slowly brings me closer to a second orgasm. I grind my hips against him needing more friction. When I open my eyes and look down I can see his icy blue eyes staring up at me and him grinning while his mouth closes around my clit and begins sucking it into his mouth. My mouth falls open and I cannot hold my head up right, so it falls into my neck. Feeling Jethro grin around me is a thing I would not have thought to be so erotic. Pulse waves of lighting curse through my body threatening to send me over the edge again. It is already hard to breathe when his hands leave my legs. One cups my breast, massaging it lightly, while one of his other fingers presses only slightly inside me, softly pressing against my G-Spot. After all that it only takes me a minute until the pressure explodes in my chest. My vision goes completely white as I press my eyes shut and my muscles cramp from the pleasure. I cannot tell how long it takes me to really notice everything around me again but when I open my eyes again, Jethro stands in front of me, both arms resting on either side of my hip. Still breathing hard, I lean forward kissing him softly. Of course, I still taste myself on his lips but this time there is nothing left in me. When I pull back to breathe deeply he asks: ”You okay?”

“Perfect.” I smile up at him and kiss him again. All I can feel right now is pure bliss. The last weeks cannot touch me in this little bobble where Jethro holds me close to him. His arms wrap around my torso and suddenly I feel as protected as I have never felt. On instinct I wrap my arms around his neck, trying to hold onto this safety for as long as I can.

Chapter Text

Gibbs

Standing here hugging Francesca after we made each other cum, is the closest I have come to heaven in a long, long time. Feeling her muscles relax under my touch and her heartbeat pounding against my chest. I believe I will have the picture of her cumming on my tongue engrained into my brain forever. The way she seemed to glow and just looked so carefree and fulfilled with pleasure. The fact that I can elicit that all from her, that I have all that power over her pleasure fills me with pride and joy. We stay like that for a while until I notice that her breathing has calmed, and I cannot feel her heartbeat anymore. I pull away from her and look at her.

“Are you ever going to finish your boat if I keep coming down here?” I laugh shortly.
“It is going to take a little longer, but worth it.”

Her smile grows and I see goosebumps spread across her chest. The spot where I bit her begins to go dark red but I kind of like it. Marking her as mine even if I cannot do it publicly. I grab my shirt from the floor and pull it over her. The look of her in my shirt makes me even more territorial but I have to suppress it. Because getting physically involved is one thing, but actually starting a relationship is a whole different thing. I can already see the pain this is going to put us both through. Because even though I really want to be what she needs, it is clear to me that I am not. Knowing I am going to lose her, if only to protect her from me, I try to memorize all the little things about her. I try to memorize the way her eyes are shining with pure satisfaction right now and the way her taste is still on my tongue. To stop the emotions rising in my chest, I lean forward and kiss her again. This time the kiss is soft and loving. That only intensifies the dread. From the way she leans into me, she makes me forget all my worries. I take her face into my hands holding her close to me. I feel her smile into the kiss, spreading warmth into me. After leaning into me a little more she pulls back and asks if I can show her how to work on the boat. As if I do not have enough trouble keeping my heart away from her. Nevertheless, I nod and take a step back to let her get off the work bench. She walks around the workbench playing with a few tools while I take the sanding block holding it out to her. Francesca turns around and sloppily pulls it over the wood. I stop her hand and look down at her.

“Well then show me if I am doing it wrong.”

I wrap my arms around her showing her how to sand the wood with the grain. Her hand slowly lets me guide her up and down the wood. I lean into her letting my head stay on her shoulder. Her head falls against my cheek like she is trying to get as close to me as she possibly can. We stay like this in silence for a while, working through a few beams. Throughout I place a few kisses on her cheek just to feel warmth spread to her cheeks and see how she smiled. Normally I would be cold in the basement without a shirt on, but the way she presses into me is warmth enough. Still a few goosebumps break out on my arms. It does not take her long to notice. Immediately she turns around, looking at me with an appalled expression. „Why don‘t you say something? You‘re cold.“ I just look at her communicating everything I need to in my facial expressions. Francesca just rolls her eyes and walks away towards the stairs. I take a moment to admire her legs and the way her ass sways as she walks. It is mesmerizing. The way my shirt is fitting her it looks like she is wearing the shirt and nothing else, making me horny for her all over again. Even though I feel like she would not say no, I push it down. For one I do not want her to feel used, but also, I do not want to come on too strong. Despite me not wanting to continue this when the case is done, I feel a pressure to do right by her. I take a deep breath before I follow her upstairs. We get ready for bed and when I walk back into the bedroom, I find her cuddled into the blanket. Her eyes are already closed, and she seems to smile. Warmth spreads in my chest uncontrollably. I lay down in front of her and pull her towards me. While she lays in my arms, she traces circles on my chest. All that does is remind me of the way her tattoo looked as she arched her back. I kiss her forehead and whisper: ”Can I ask about your tattoo?” I can feel her tensing under my arms.

“It is a sign of my power.” Her answer is cryptic.
“When did you get it?”

“About 14 years ago.”

“Waiting for the scar to heal completely?”

It feels like she stopped breathing.

“I am really tired, let’s go to sleep.”

She turns around grabbing my arm to pull me close around her. A nagging feeling starts in my chest. I already had a feeling she was holding back but now I know for sure. And I know it is nothing good.

The next morning, we get ready like every day. Francesca does not mention my inquiry again, but I have a feeling I struck a nerve yesterday. She is talking less and her smile seems reluctant. I keep my questions to myself but make a mental note to ask her more about it this evening. Before we go to the office, we stop for coffee and I get a Cafpow for Abby. While Francesca goes upstairs to do some more research on her father, I immediately go downstairs to see if Abby found anything on those pictures or any clues in general. When I try to go inside the door does not open. I knock on the door and hear how Abby asks who it is. When she hears that it is me, the door opens and I walk inside. Abby leans against her desk grinning at me. Everything inside of me screamed to turn around so I would not have to answer her questions. But I keep walking. I hear the door close behind me and Abby’s grin only grows.

“Hello, lover boy.”

“No.”

“Yes, I earned it.”

“So you found something?”

“Oh you mean did I find something on the photos showing you hooking up with a certain witness in this case?” I roll my eyes.

“I did find a partial fingerprint on the picture with your hand respectfully up her shirt.” To underline her point she puts up the picture and the fingerprint she pulled of it. I just look at her waiting for her to continue.

“I matched it to a Vincent Johnson. A low-level thug, working for hire. He is connected to a few robberies and has a restraining order from an ex-girlfriend. My guess is he got hired by someone.” I give her the drink and start to walk away, but Abby clears her throat. I turn around waiting for her to continue.

“I also found something interesting on the car that followed you.” I take a few steps back towards Abby.

“I followed it with the traffic cameras. I found an angle showing the driver. It is very pixelated, but I am running it through facial recognition anyways.”

I squint at the photo trying to make out enough to recognize someone, but it looks like every other 30-year-old white guy walking through DC. The only thing I can really make out is his dark eyes and his age.

“Good job, Abby.”

“Thank you, Lover Boy.”

Again, I roll my eyes. I walk away towards the elevator. When I go to the bullpen I see Francesca sitting at my desk.

“Morning, boss. We spoke to everyone at the container supplier and got a sketch. It is pretty generic but I am running it through facial recognition, nevertheless.” DiNozzo puts the sketch on the screen and I stop in my steps. Groaning I say: ”That is the guy, who followed us two days ago. Abby got a shot of him driving the car.”

It is silent in the bullpen. “Seems like we are closing in.”

I nod and look at Francesca to stand up, so I can work on my desk. She holds her finger up gesturing me to wait. I can feel everyone holding their breath.

“Excuse me?”

“I found something. Some chatter on the dark web from 15 years ago placing a hit out on my father. I cannot trace the author, but it is weird.”

“Your father had just taken out a lot of people in Fahid’s organization”, McGee notes.

“Yeah, but he was not the only Seal in this operation and only my father is the only one with a hit on him.”

“Give it to Abby.” Francesca hits a few last keys and then stands up walking past me to the elevator. I feel the eyes of everyone around me on me, but I just ignore them and sit down to check my email. I get an email from the DOD agent I talked to. She informs me, that a new organization just landed on her desk. They connected a series of robberies, drug trades and weapons sales around Norfolk and the US to each other. They do not know who is running it, but they know they got inside men into almost every agency. She suggests that our case is connected, since Justin McAdams is not connected to any terrorist groups since the start of this organization. Maybe he changed directions in his line of work. I groan, knowing that if her theory is true, we are going to hit so much more walls than we already do. If this organization has people on the inside of other agencies. If that is true, I bet Agent Mueller is one of them. Or someone else at the CIA who has been sabotaging Francesca. If this is true, this runs deeper than just Francesca. I sigh and look up to the skylight. I cannot believe I let myself get personally involved in a case this complicated. Normally, I could stop myself but this time it was different. This time I could not pull away. I could not pull my feelings away from Francesca. McGee’s computer pings and I look down to watch if it was something good. He stands up and puts a few documents on the screen.
“Got something, boss.”

Everybody stands up and gathers to see what McGee found.

“I got a match on the sketch and the picture Abby found. Lieutenant Leo Kavanaugh. Born and raised in Baltimore. He joined the Navy when he was 20, took him a while to rise up.”

I feel Francesca standing in the back watching us, but I do not turn around.

“He is stationed in Norfolk but has not been deployed for a while. No particularly good or bad entries into his record. Pretty average to be honest. What is interesting though is, that he is the younger brother of Eaton Kavanaugh, former CO of Francesca. He died 15 years ago. He has been murdered, head snapped at home, but it is a cold case. Nobody found any evidence. No motive-“

Suddenly I hear Francesca’s footsteps running away towards the stairs. Everybody suddenly looks towards her and without thinking I run after her.

Chapter Text

Francesca

When I walk back up from Abby’s lab, I had found a little hope that I am actually going to find something helpful. But when I walked towards the bullpen and I saw McGee putting Kavanaugh’s picture on the screen, my hope crumbled. His black eyes set deep inside his skull look back at me. Even from the dead he is still traumatizing me. When I look at the screen everything stops and time slows down. All I hear is the blood rushing through my ears. I can see Tim talking in my peripheral, but I do not register anything he is saying. My hands start to shake and I feel like I cannot breathe anymore. When I cannot handle to look at the face anymore, I run. It is more of an instinct than a decision. My panic carries me towards the staircase. I run down a few stairs only to sit down in the corner. My breath is shallow, my heart beating fast in my chest. All those emotions from 15 years ago crash into my chest. I feel like the hands are back on my body violating me like all those years ago. Nausea finds its way up my esophagus and tears swell into my eyes. I lean forward and pinch my eyes shut. A hand on my shoulder startles me, but I still do not open my eyes.

“I’m here.” My heart calms down, when I recognize Gibbs’ voice, but I still cannot open my eyes. I feel him pressing a plastic bag into my hands. It felt like someone allowed me to react and now I puke my breakfast into the bag. My stomach cramps and I only feel Gibbs’ hand on my back very lightly. My hands still shake and cold sweat collects on my forehead. When my chest and back stops heaving, Gibbs takes the back away from me and puts an arm around me. Immediately, I lean into him and start shaking under the panic. I try to catch my breath, but nothing helps. My thoughts start to rush through my head, pictures and words flooding my consciousness. I cannot grab a single thought or control them. Gibbs puts both arms around me and pulls me against his chest. I bury my head into his chest hoping for his closeness to stop my panic. It takes a while, but slowly my breathing becomes steadier and my thoughts flow slower. I feel Gibbs kiss the top of my head.

“What happened, Francesca?”

Slowly I sit upright and wipe tears from my eyes.

“15 years ago, Eaton was my CO. He took me under his wing. I always felt uncomfortable with the way he paid attention to me. Made the other marines make fun of me, the only girl in the squad. One evening after we were back from a training exercise, me and a few other squad mates went out drinking and ran into Eaton, who joined us.”

My hands shake again and I feel a lump in my throat. Gibbs stays quiet and lets me take my time. After I clear my throat I continue: ”It did not take long for me to blackout. When I woke up again, I was bound to a motel bed. Eaton raped me.” Gibbs grip tightened around my shoulders like he wants to protect me from the memories.

“That is actually how I got the scar under my tattoo. He cut an E into my sternum so I would always remember him. When I reported him, he said I wanted it. My injuries were not taken seriously and the case got laid on ice. People called me a whore and my mental health was shit, so I dropped out.” Silence engulfs us, as he takes in what I said.

“You are very strong, Francesca.” Tears roll down my cheeks. A hollow ache spreads in my chest, like it does every time this memory is brought up.

“Why do you think Eaton’s brother is after you now? Or after your father?”

“Eaton died a few weeks after what he did to me. Of course, I was a suspect, but it was not me. I was relieved he was dead, but it didn’t change anything. A few days later my dad had a heart attack. It was a tough time.”

I pause and look up at Gibbs.

“Can I tell you something in confidence?” He nods.

“It was an open secret between my parents, that my father went to confront Eaton.”

“You believe your father killed him?”

“Would not surprise me. He always was protective of me.”

“Sounds like a good father.”

I nod and lean forward again. We stay like this for a while. His arms strong around me. The vulnerability surrounding me is debilitating. Now that Gibbs knows about my darkest days, I fear that I am going to lose him. People always leave when they realize how difficult my past is. When they realize I am a lot more complicated. That is exactly what happened with my ex-girlfriend. She stood by me after the rape and my father’s dead, but when I did not recover quickly, she left. So, as I sit here in his arms, I fear that he will leave when life gets mundane again. When I am not a puzzle he needs to solve. My thoughts are spiraling when Gibbs pushes me away and takes my head into his hands and says: ”Stop panicking.” His blue eyes pierce mine making my heart stop for a second. Of course, just him saying that does not help me. I thought knowing why I was tortured would give me some sense of clarity. But it does not. I makes me more scared and it hurts more than I thought. Like the old wounds I have spent years healing are being ripped open with a ragged knife.

“It is going to be fine, Francesca. Everything will be fine.”

When a tear rolls down my cheek, he wipes it away and then kisses me softly. While I was still hurting, the kiss does help clear my head for a second. His soft lips press into mine, leaving behind a tingling feeling. He pulls away watching me intently.

“I need a little time before I can go back up.”

Gibbs nods and helps me up. “I do have to tell the team, so we can investigate properly.”

Dread fills me but I know he is right. I know that the danger will only lessen if we find Kavanaugh. In answer I nod. Gibbs pulls me into a tight hug, comforting me. “Take a break. Recharge.” While I take a few steps downstairs, I see Gibbs jumping up to pull his jacket off the security camera pointing right at the spot where we were sitting. I raise an eyebrow in question.

“Do you really think they are not going to eavesdrop?”

His little smirk makes me laugh and for a second, I feel like all the weight has been lifted. His smile grows as he hears my laugh and it feels like I am seeing something like fondness and admiration in his eyes. Then he turns around and walks back upstairs again. My steps take me back to Abby’s lab, which has become a kind of safe place for me. When I walk in Abby greets me and says: ”That would be quick even for me, but I have not find anything yet.” She turns around and her face falls when she sees me. I guess my little breakdown is showing on my face. Without saying another word, Abby walks towards me and gives me a hug. With her big heels she is taller than me and I am engulfed in her hug. She lets go, looks at me like she is looking for something and then says: “Bert is back there.” I silently thank her and walk towards the back of her lab. Taking the hippo from her desk I sit down on the floor and lean back against the wall. My mind races and is blank at the same time. There is nothing for me to do. Everything is a mess and there is no way for me to sort through it. Did my father kill the man who raped me? In my gut I know he did. I do not have any proof, but I knew him and it was in his nature to seek justice. I do not even blame him, as a Seal it is in his character to protect what he holds dear. In a weird, twisted way I am even thankful. This way I never had to walk into him by accident, I never had to fight with him or have him torture me in other ways. For that I am grateful. Nevertheless, he should not have done it. He should not have died, I should not have to go through all this pain. My mother should not have to live without the love of her life, she should not have to live in a hotel because someone is after me right now. The stupor and the terror of the revelation slowly wear off and reveal the anger and fury underneath. With too much force I stand up and walk towards the gym. On the way there I shrug off my blouse, leaving me in a thin top and jeans. The gym was not empty, but I do not care. I let the blouse just fall to the floor and walk over to the nearest punching bag and just start punching. Punching like I have Eaton Kavanaugh in front of me myself. Without mercy I let out all my anger at being raped, at being a victim, at being tortured, at all the pain my family had to endure in the last days. I start kicking the bag with my right leg again and again. For how long I do not know, but I stop when my muscles are burning and I am out of breath again. The pain is welcome in a way, it means I am alive now, that my body is not under control by someone else, but that I have control. But also, the physical pain overpowers the emotional one. Focusing on the fight allows me to ignore the fear, hurt and trauma inside my chest. My knuckles are bruised and I see some blood oozing through.

My left hand hurts more, the bones in the middle of my hand hurting in the places they have been broken. Feeling a little more at peace now, I take my blouse and walk back to Abby’s lab to patch myself up. Abby tries to help and talk to me, but I stop her, having to be by myself for a while. I see the worried look in her eyes, but this is something I have to do. With my hands bandaged up, I take deep breath and lean forward to support my weight on my hands. The relief the pain and anger got me is short lived. I intently watch the blood from my knuckles leak through the bandage and images of the bleeding E on my sternum rush through me. Without noticing I press my hand harder together seeing more blood pool under the bandage. The sound of the door opening makes me snap out of my thoughts. Looking up I see Gibbs standing in the door. Worry coats his face as he sees the blood on my hands.
“I am fine.”

My voice is brittle and I do not even believe myself. But I know I can patch myself together. I do not need Gibbs’ help, I have done all this before and I can do it again. I try to reflect that determinedness in my face, but I do not think it shows.
“Let me have a look.” Gibbs reaches out to grab my hand but I take a step back.

“I am fine”, I repeat, looking him in the eyes and forcing all my feelings down. If I must heal again, I will have to do it alone. I will have to it coldly.

“You are not fine, Francesca.”

“How would you know?”

Maybe I am being harsh. Maybe Gibbs was nothing but perfect to me, but I have to take back control or I will lose my mind. His eyes seem to cut straight through the walls I am slowly building around me. He takes a step forward, leaning on his hands right in front of me.

“Stop the bullshit.”

The familiar anger rises again. The anger of being wronged. Maybe I cannot confront the big wrongs I have been done, but I can confront the little ones.

“The only bullshit here, is you pretending to care and know everything about me, when you have always kept me at arm’s length. So, excuse me if I keep my healing to myself.”

“Look who is talking.”

“Don’t you dare. We had no idea that would be important.”

“You are not the only one with traumas, Francesca. Do not act all holy, it does not suit you.”

Of course, deep down I know he is right. I know I am being hypocritical criticizing him for having his principles. For rightfully holding back. Nevertheless, I am not ready to give up on the comfort of this argument yet. For a second my mask of anger slips and I feel my desperation for safety shine through. I know better than to think Gibbs did not see it, but I pretend anyways.

“But I am the only one who has to share them? Is that right? I have to bear my whole life to you, while I get only tiny fractions of yours?”

We stare at each other for a second before he answers.

“That is a hell of a lot more, than almost everybody else gets.”

“Lucky me.” Of course, I really felt lucky that he trusts me enough, but my stubbornness would not allow me to say that.

“And, I am not the one being hunted and tortured right now.”

“Lucky you, then.”

His eyes narrow and his head gets closer to mine.

“You want to know something about me, Morales?”

I nod, lean back and cross my arms in front of my chest.

“I killed the man who was responsible for the death of my wife and daughter in cold blood. No consequences.”

My breath stops at his confession and all the fight leaves my body. What he just confessed is like he laid a loaded gun in my hand and pointed it at himself. With that information I could ruin everything for him. I could ruin him and he gave me that power without a second thought. My arms fall to my side and I search his eyes for something other than heated anger.

“Rightfully so.” Is all I say our fight seemingly forgotten. We stare at each other for a while until he comes around the table and silently asks me if he can help me now. I nod. With just one confession he tore my wall right down. He created a bond. He put us on the same team, making me feel less alone in my pain, in the journey of healing. Carefully he takes the bandage of my knuckles.

“How is your hand?”

“Fine, not broken again.”

A small nod is all the answer I get.

“Are you okay?”

“Soon” is all I say, silently admitting that I am in fact not fine. He grabs my neck and softly angles my head forward to he can plant a kiss on the top of my head. Only for a moment he lingers with his lips against my hair, but it is gesture enough. I press my eyes together as all the emotions I had buried under my anger, push to the surface again. If I did not know any better, I would say I am falling in love with Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Chapter Text

Gibbs

When Francesca told me about the rape suddenly all the puzzle pieces she gave me fell into place. Suddenly, everything made sense. Her weird reaction to being called marine by me. Her avoidance about her tattoo and her strong urge to be completely independent. For the first time, I have the feeling I am really seeing her and what I am seeing is gorgeous and incredibly strong. If her father really murdered Kavanaugh, I would not blame him. I would have exactly the same urge, but I would not have been so merciful. I see the pain in Francesca even now, I do not even want to know, how devastated she was right after it happened. How traumatic everything was. Due to that, I can understand every reaction Francesca has to try to stay in control, to keep herself together. It was obvious to me that the fight was Francesca trying to gain control and independence again and I would happily fight with her if it helps her. I did not plan to tell her about Mexico, still I do not regret it; I know I can trust her. I know she would never use that knowledge to betray me. Regardless, I always feel an unease when I talk about it, like I am ticking down the times I can talk about it before I get caught. I slowly pull away from her and see the gratefulness in her eyes. For a second she opens her mouth like she wants to say something, but then snaps it shut. My eyebrow twitches upwards waiting for her to explain.

“Rule number 6.”

I smile knowing she memorizes my rules.

“Thank you for fighting with me”, she says smiling. I laugh shortly and nod at her.

“Want me to help you now?”

That gets her attention back on her hands.

“No, it’s fine, thank you. Habitual behavior by now.”

I accept her answer giving her the independence she needs. Nevertheless, I stay and watch her carefully wrap the bandages around her hands making sure the bleeding stops. Her fingers work fast but delicate, like she has done this a thousand times and knows exactly where she needs them. She tests the bandages by balling her hands to fists a few times and then looks up at me.

“What did you tell everybody?”

“I told them that Eaton raped you and that Leo might think your father killed his brother.”

She nods again.

“You might want to tell Abby yourself though. She is pretty worried about you.” We both look sideways and find Abby turning around to act like she is working on something. Laughing, Francesca walks out of Abby’s office and towards her workstation. I follow her picking up my coffee I left on Abby’s desk in a hurry to get to Francesca after Abby called me down. Without saying another word, Francesca hugs Abby. The sight of Francesca fitting so perfectly in my work family, elicits a smile from me before I can prevent it. I watch Francesca catch Abby up for a second before going back upstairs. Upstairs I ask for any news and find Ziva standing up. “I connected Leo Kavanaugh indirectly to a bunch of robberies and drug cases. They were people he protected or at least was close to at some point. I also found out that Leo and Eaton were pretty tight with Ryan Mason. I found a few pictures of them together out at bars. It seems like they are at the center of those robberies. What I cannot find out is what they are doing with the stuff they stole.”

“They are probably financing something.”

I look at DiNozzo waiting for him to continue.

“I do not know what, boss. But from what we know it does not seem like they are planning something big.”

I sigh and walk upstairs to talk to Vance. When I walk into his office, he is on the phone like he always is. I wait for him to hangup. “Gibbs, what can I do for you?”

“We need more information on a criminal organization inside the Navy. It seems to circle around Ryan Mason and Leo Kavanaugh. These two are involved in Agent Morales’ abduction.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Use your connections, ask around.”

“Okay, I will, anything else?”

I shake my head and walk back out. We spent the rest of the day trying to find out who else belongs to the organization and where everybody is hiding. While we have not found anything yet, McGee and Abby are staying late to work on everything. It seems like knowing Francesca’s story, has given Abby even more motivation. On the way home I can feel Francesca slowly lose strength. She begins to slide lower in her seat and looks out of the car window with hollow eyes. When we go back inside, I see her go straight for the stairs, but I stop her by grabbing her arm. The look in her eyes when she turns around breaks my heart into little pieces. Her eyes are watery and it seems like her strong façade has broken down. I pull her towards me and engulf her into a deep hug. Immediately she starts to cry and cling to me. Hearing her cry is getting worse with every time I hear it. I try to keep her as close to me as possible without suffocating her, but still I feel helpless. I have been trying to find the people who did this to her, but we have very little to show for it. In a way, I feel responsible, because I have been more concerned with protecting her than with getting new information. After a few minutes she stops crying and slowly pulls away from me. Putting two strands of hair that have fallen into her face behind her ears, I analyze her face for any sort of clue what to do. But I find nothing.

“What do you need?”

A soft smile breaks through her tearstained face.

“Time.”

“Anything I can do right now?”

Her eyes dance around the room looking for something to do.

“Will you stay with me while I draw?” Francesca walks around the living room collecting all her things while I wait on the sofa. She sits down next to me, leaning against me with her feet propped up on the cushion. When she opens her notepad, a grin escapes me. She tries to cover it up by switching to a blank space but I saw it clear as day. Grabbing her notepad from her hands I switch back to the page showing an unfinished drawing of me sleeping on the couch. Francesca is quick in trying to get it back, but I am faster.

“When did you do this, Francisca? Do not get me wrong I am honored, but isn’t watching me sleep a bit creepy?”

Embarrassment floods her face and I can see the red creeping into her cheeks. “I have not been watching you sleep. I just needed something to draw.” I take another look at it and notice the care and detail with which she drew me. How long this must have taken her. She uses my moment of admiration to take the notepad and turn the page.
“Don’t go snooping in my stuff.”

“I think you have been the one snooping.”

When she rolls her eyes a little pride blooms in my chest. Again, she leans against my upper body, but this time she starts sketching. Normally, I would be bored with nothing to do than drink my beer, but watching her draw is mesmerizing. The way her delicate hands softly brush over the paper, how softly she handles the pencil and how precise her strokes are. At first, I cannot make out what she is drawing, but after a while I see, that she is copying the picture of Kelly on my mantel. Francesca draws her running through the garden with her arms wide and a big smile on her face. No words can describe the emotions running through me right now and I certainly cannot find any to thank her in this moment, so I just place a soft kiss on her head. It seems like she does not even recognize the kiss but just keeps on drawing. It is a beautiful picture. The memory of her sweet laugh filling the house runs through my mind, making my heart ache. Nevertheless, the memories are not a bad thing. They are all I have left of her. Francesca honoring that and drawing her, does something incredibly strong to me. Something I had lost faith I would feel again. When she is finished with the sketch, she holds the picture out to inspect it. Without another word she stands up and walks over to the dining table gathering her watercolors. I guess me being near her is not as important anymore when she is entranced by a project. As I look at her working, I realize how normal it has become for me to touch her. To give her quick kisses, hugs and while she always seems to appreciate it, the revelation of her trauma nags at me. Did I overstep at some point? Did I read her wrong? My heart picks up, but I do not want do disturb her. For the first time today, she actually looks at peace. A content smile lays on her lips as she carefully strokes the brush on the paper adding color to the black and white drawing. Still, my mind is racing through our interaction scanning them for any sign that I made her uncomfortable. While she mostly pursued me, I fell into touching her too easily. Asked her too little. I forget all my worries for a second when she walks over and hands me her drawing. It seems like just minutes have passed but it must have been a few hours. The picture is even more beautiful with the watercolors, they show Kelly’s amazing spirit and underline how carefree she was. There were no words to thank Francesca enough for doing this. When I look up again, she smiles brightly. Immediately, I stand up and put the drawing next to the real picture of Kelly on the mantel. When I turn around, her smile falls. She probably already saw the seriousness on my face. Before I begin to talk, I really take her in. Her curly hair is in a messy ponytail, she has a few spots of paint on her face and her lips have a soft pink color. Her legs are hidden behind loose fitting jeans and she is wearing an open red blouse with a thin top underneath. All in all, incredibly breathtaking.

“Did I ever overstep? Touched you when you didn’t want to?”

“What?”

She furrows her brows in confusion. I stay silent, insinuating that she heard me correctly.

“No, why would you?”

“I never really asked you.”

“And?”

“Were you every uncomfortable? I don’t want to bring up any old trauma.”

Her head falls back and she sighs.

“You didn’t.”

“Never?”

“No, never.” I can see anger rise in her chest.

“You can tell me if I did.”

“I know. But you don’t have to use kid gloves around me now that you know my history.”

“I am not.”

“You are. You are treating me differently. Do you really think you forced me to do something with you or anything? I pursued you, remember?”

I cross my arms which seems to only anger her more.

“Insecurity really does not suit you, Jethro.”

Now I am getting mad.

“So me trying to make sure you feel safe is insecure now?”

“Yes, I never gave you any sign that I was feeling uncomfortable and now only because you learned about my trauma you are second guessing everything!”

I roll my eyes.

“So, you do not think that I am attracted to you?”

I stare at her not really knowing how to answer her. She takes a step closer locking eyes with me. Her anger shines through but there is also something else inside them. Something I cannot identify.

“What am I supposed to think, Francesca? You practically run away from me sometimes!”

“It is not running away. It is me getting a grip. Just because I have been raped does not mean I cannot enjoy any type of intimacy!”

Just her mentioning our moments together, makes my blood travel south. Of course, I know what she says is true, but I am still unsure.

“Doesn’t mean you never felt uncomfortable.”

“You are impossible, Jethro!”

She takes another step towards me and pushes me backwards towards the couch again.

“You won’t believe me no matter what I say, are you?”

I do not answer her.

“So I’ll just have to show you.”

She pushes me to sit on the couch and leans forward to look me deep in the eyes. In this moment I just let her take control of the situation. The energy sizzles between us and it almost feels like there is no air in the room left. Slowly she sinks to her knees in front of me holding eye contact the whole way. Her fingers find the button and zipper and swiftly open them. Her fingers hover over the seam of my underwear waiting for me to stop her.

“Do you want me to stop?” She is grinning, like she already knows my answer.

“No fucking way”, my voice is breathy and low. My heartbeat picks up even more and I put my hands on her head keeping her hair out of her face. Her eyes stay glued to mine until she takes out my dick and softly pulls her fingers above it. She intently watches me react to her until she completely wraps her hand around it and my head falls back in the couch. With my eyes shut, I feel even more intensely how she very slowly pulls her tongue along it, letting my heart skip a beat. The more she plays with me, the more my heartbeat picks up and the harder it gets to breathe. It is not until she fully wraps her lips around me and slowly glides me down her throat. A loud moan escapes, as the sensations overcome me. The warmth and wetness of her mouth, the soft pressure of her tongue and the grip of her hands on my hip. I open my eyes and look down to see her pull her head back again while looking into my eyes. Without breaking eye contact she moves forward again until I hit her throat and she has almost completely swallowed me. A little tingle forms in my lower stomach, blinding me with pleasure. Francesca begins working up and down my dick watching how I react to her tongue swirling and putting pressure on different places. She is playing with me and she knows it. I know I wanted to give her the control, but my patience is wearing thin. When her mouth leaves me and she begins with her tongue again, it snaps and I grab her to pick her up. With her legs around my waist, I stand up and walk us up the stairs. Upstairs I let her fall onto the bed and lean over her.

“You had to make me lose control, didn’t you? Now tell me, do you want me to touch you?”

A nod with a big smile is all I get.

“Safe word?”

“I do not need one.”

“Safe word, Francesca.”

I give her a moment to think about it, waiting impatiently until I can touch her again.

“Blue.”

“Okay, blue it is.” I kiss her neck close to her ear and feel her arching into me.

“Want me to fuck you, love?”

“Yes, please.”

I grin, throwing my self-control completely out of the window.  

Chapter Text

Francesca

I really did not expect my day to make a 180 twist. But when Jethro questioned my attraction towards him something snapped. Honestly, I could have watched him unravel from my tongue the whole night. Knowing I have this much power over him makes me kind of cocky. Even though I trust him completely, him insisting that I chose a safe word made me feel even more safe than I already have. Now I am laying here, waiting for him to make a move, for him to lose control. My skin prickles in anticipation, my blood already speeding through my veins. His eyes flow over my body like he is thinking about what to do first. His icy blue eyes are shining even stronger than before and I cannot wait to feel his touch all over me. But instead of coming closer to me he takes a step back.

“Strip down to your underwear.”

His commanding tone gives me goosebumps, but I am not going to make it that easy for him.

“You first.”

A devious grin shortly shows on his lips before he crosses his arms and waits for me to do something. I lean onto my arms behind me and press my breast forward.

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you.”

I nod still not moving to remove any of my clothes, even though the room feels too hot and my skin begs to be touched by him. His hand reaches out grabbing my ponytail again and pulling it back. With my head angled back I am arching even more into him.

“Well, babygirl” Warmth pools in my gut. “If you want that to happen you will have to follow my orders. Otherwise, it will get very, very frustrating for you. Got it?”

I grin at him and remove my blouse while he still holds my head back by my hair. When my blouse flies over the bed he releases me and waits for me to strip down more and I do. Not because I wanted to give in, but because it will be way more fun to fight him on other things. Wearing nothing but a lacy bra and panties I sit back on the bed, cross my legs and lean back on my hands, presenting Jethro my body. I can practically feel him devouring me with his eyes. My breath picks up, but I try not to show it too much. Jethro leans forward and lightly pulls his fingertips up my legs, my stomach, my sternum and neck until his thumb traces my lips again. His touch leaves little fireworks behind and only works me up more.

“Such a pretty little slut, aren’t you?”

His words alone in this low whispery tone could make me moan but I refuse. Instead of answering him I open my mouth and stick out my tongue to lick across his fingers. Just as I close my mouth again, his face moves forward and his lips crash into mine. With passion like I have never experienced before, his lips glide along mine while his hands cradle my head and neck. Like an instinct reaction my legs spread letting him step between them. I kiss him back, pulling at his shirt to get more of him. While we kiss, he does not let me take it off, but after he pulls away from the kiss, he stands upright motioning for me to take his shirt off. From this angle he hovers over me again, looking down at me. I pull my hands over his upper body, feeling the muscles underneath his skin and look deep into his eyes. Meanwhile, he takes my chin in between his fingers and pulls my head up even more. One of his hands starts moving up my inner thigh making it hard to breath. But instead of giving me what I want, he stops before he reaches my sensitive spots and starts drawing circles on my leg. A soft shiver runs through me and as much as I try to repress it, it shows and makes Jethro grin at me.

“Want me to do more, Francesca? Just ask. Just beg.”

Defiance flames up and I shake my head.

“That is too bad.”

He pushes me backwards and begins kissing my stomach, chest and neck, but he never kisses anything covered by my underwear. So, all he really does is make me fucking horny. Instead of giving in I try to touch him, but he takes my hands again and pins them above me. His lips move next to my ear as he whispers: ”You had your fun, now let me have mine.”

My pulse picks up and he just continues kissing and lightly stroking my body. Every single one of my nerves seems to be on high alert for every single on his touches. Without warning he turns me on my stomach with my hip laying on the edge of the bed. His hands still have my arms secured so I am still unable to touch him. His other hand gathers my hair so he can continue kissing my neck.

This time he slowly works his way down my back and pushes his legs to mine. A moan collects in my throat, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. His hand leaves the back of my head and softly traces the back of my upper thigs and my ass. My eyes are pressed shut from all the sensations and the need for him to finally really touch me. The moan still sits in my throat and I can hold it back until Jethro’s hand slaps down on my ass in a strongly contrasting sensation to all the soft touches. The stinging feeling is the last straw on my patience. His warm hand lays against the delicious pain and I moan again.

“Please touch me.” I breathe slowly.

Gibbs face comes closer to mine waiting for me to repeat myself. I open my eyes and see him smirking at me.

“Come on, I did not hear you the first time.”

His hand slowly pushes under the seam of the underwear laying on my hip and all my concentration gets lost.

“Please touch me, Jethro.”

“There you go.”

Swiftly he drops to his knees, pulls my panties aside and starts feasting on me. The second his tongue touches my pussy, my knees buckle and a deep moan escapes me. Jethro’s hands hold me up by my cheeks as he starts swirling his tongue around my sex driving me closer and closer to an orgasm. The familiar tension begins to form in my muscles while a warm tingling feeling begs to explode in my stomach. My legs start to shake and I press my eyes shut, but before I can cum, his tongue and lips leave me. Like a reflex I push myself further back, needing that touch again.
“Who said you could cum yet? Did I not tell you it would be frustrating, Francesca?”

I look back over my shoulder and see how he runs his hands up my ass again. As much as I want to be angry with him, this whole thing is the most erotic thing I have ever witnessed. His lip softly touches my clit again, immediately sending my senses into overdrive only for him to pull back again. This was just cruel.

“Want me to let you cum? All you have to do is beg.”

I shake my head again, trying to keep my will strong. I am not one to submit that easily.

“Your choice.”

I can feel the breath from his words against me before he dives back in again and works his tongue in and out of me. My eyes slam shut again, warmth spreads around my body and sensations I cannot describe wrap around my rips. Like fire burning pleasurably into my skin. I feel myself getting closer again. This time I try to keep my reactions to a minimum, so he does not see my orgasm coming. It does not work. My legs betray me when the start shaking and Jethro pulls back again. I grunt frustrated, but still refuse to give in. He places a few kisses on my back, but my body screams for more. One of his hands grabs the hair on the back of my head and pulls my head back. With his body flush to mine, thoughts are hard to form.

“Still not ready to beg, Francesca?” I can barely see him in my peripheral, but I know I would see heat and determination in them. Still, I shake my head. His tongue glides across my neck sending stars in my view. He whispers ”Your call” into my ear before he turns me around again. One of his hands wraps around my neck without applying pressure, while his other one circles loosely around my sex without touching it. Everything is just too light. I need more pressure, I need a little pain, I need him to really touch me. Of course, I do not say any of that. Eventually, his fingers trail over my clit before he sinks one fully into me. He lightly pulls out and starts pushing against my G-spot. I moan loudly and feel all my nerves firing intensely. While his finger moves inside me, his thumb finds my clit and starts to draw circles on it. Just when the pressure starts to build his fingers press down into my neck, restricting my air flow just how I like it. My breath is just a panting now and again I get closer and closer to coming. “Want to cum this time, Francesca? Just say the word and I let you.”

I press my lips together to stop myself from letting my words slip but the closer I get to orgasm the more I want to beg. When pressing my lips together is not enough, I bite down on my lip while electricity runs through me, erasing all my thoughts. Before I realize it, I can feel myself starting to cum, only for Jethro to stop touching me again. His hand still on my neck he moves closer our noses almost touching. The loss of his touch almost hurts. I can feel myself clamping around nothing and I could cry from all the hormones flooding through me. Opening my eyes, I see Jethro staring at me. Seeing him watch me so intensely, with that sexy smile on his lips is the last drop. All I can think about right now is how sexy he looks and my defiance leaves my body, the only thing I feel is the need to cum for him.

“Please make me cum, Jethro. Please.” The words gush out of me fastly and his grin only grows.

“Good girl.”

His praise only makes me so much hornier than I already him. He drops to his knees again and starts to finger my G-Spot, before his mouth drops down on my clit and he starts sucking it in a relentless rhythm. From that moment on I am nothing more than a mess. I moan and gasp from his touches, swirling underneath him. To no one’s surprise it does not take long for an immense orgasm to rip through me. Waves of pleasure rush through my body and all I see is blinding light. I cannot even say how long it takes for me to open my eyes panting. The only thing I see is Jethro’s blue eyes and for a second, I drown in them.

“Such a beautiful, good slut for me, aren’t you?”

Still in trance from my orgasm, I nod. My hands grab for his trousers hastily pulling them off. In this moment, all I need is to feel him inside me. Lucky for me, he goes along. I just realize that this is the first time I fully see him naked. And what a view. His body is rippled with strong muscles and the scars make him even more attractive to me. His dick lays flat and hard against his stomach. Before now I have not noticed just how big he is. Mesmerized I watch as he slowly pulls the condom down his dick. I didn’t know how hot this action could me. When he is done, he pushes me further on the bed and pulls my underwear off. My bra almost rips from the force with which he pulls it off me. His hands cup my breasts kissing them sloppily. I arch into him again, heat already pooling in my stomach again. While he kisses my boobs he crawls on the bed before me and my legs immediately wrap around him. I can feel him hard against me and I was almost ready to beg again. But instead of asking me to beg, he takes my face into his hands and kisses me intensely taking a short moment to be tender before he fucks me. The switch is unexpected but still warms my heart. The moment only lasts a few seconds, before he wraps his hand around my neck again and angling his dick against me with his other. I open my eyes to see him searching my face for any type of hesitance.
“If you do not fuck me right now, I will burn down your fucking boat.”

A grin spreads across his lips. Apparently, that was answer enough, because he slowly starts to push inside me, forcing me to spread around him. It is a feeling like no other. He stretches me so much it almost hurts, but right now it is pure bliss. Even when I think he is fully inside me, he does not stop pushing and a soft “fuck” escapes me.

“Come on, you can take it.”

His mouth latches around my nipple, circling his tongue around it making me wetter than I already am. With a final thrust he buries himself fully inside me and I moan. I can feel his head fall forwards against my forehead as he breathes heavily.
“Fuck you feel good.”

I do not know how he knows exactly what to say to get me going, but he does. Slowly he starts to move and the whole room starts to blur. After I get used to the size of him, impatience rises in my chest. I need more. I need him harder. Moving my pelvis to get more fraction, only gets me a harder grip around my neck.
“You want me to fuck you harder, Francesca?”

I nod.

“You want me to fuck you, so you cannot walk tomorrow?”

I moan lightly in answer.

“You want everyone to see how thoroughly you have been fucked by me, hm?”

Again, I nod.

His teeth bite down on my neck while he simultaneously thrust deep inside of me. My eyes snap shut and I moan again. All this is too much. All I feel is need for him.

“Who do you belong to, babygirl?” His whisper is right next to my ear and I feel his breath against my neck.

“Myself.”

He chuckles softly. “Let me restate: Who does this pussy belong to?”

He lightly moves inside me, while pulling his teeth over my neck again; his hand still on it and pressing down softly.

“You, fuck, it belongs to you.”

“That’s right. Your mine, Francesca.”

Goose bumps erupt on my whole body and before he it really sinks in what he said, he starts fucking me hard. Moans are all I am able to formulate as he thrusts into me in a punishing pace. I grab at his shoulders and back keeping him close to me while he drives in and out of me. Everything inside me his filled with pleasure when he suddenly stops and scrambles through the drawer in his nightstand. To my surprise he pulls out my vibrator. I am way to turned on to be embarrassed right now. While studying me he turns it on and holds it against my clit. The vibrations run through my body, sending stars into my vision. Before I can get used to the sensation he starts fucking me again. Now, I really am a mess. In short intervals he turns up the intensity making my shake underneath him.
“Cum for me again. Show me who you belong to.”

The words and the squeeze on my neck are the last thing pushing me over the edge. A blinding and deafening orgasm ripples through me and I lose all sense of direction. As I get my vision back, Jethro still fucks me strongly, sending my nerves into overdrive. My breath is shallow and I can see he is getting close to. With my last strength I pull him down to me, kissing him deeply. My tongue touches his and I pull my fingernails down his back. That is when I feel his whole body go tense and with a loud moan, he cums. His breath uneven and he is still panting when his hand leaves my neck and moves up to my cheek. He kisses me again, but this time it is soft and sweet. While he still kisses me, he wraps his arms around my waist holding my close to him. I think you cannot get closer to heaven than I am right now.

Chapter Text

Gibbs

There is really no going back now. There is no way for me to let her go now. I am close to pinching myself to see if this all is a dream. The way she pushed back, reacted to me and played with me. My skin still tingles from the memories as I hold her close to me. She lays half on top of me with her eyes closed and her arms wrapped around me. Her breath hits my chest and the moonlight illuminates her face. I try as hard as I can to commit this moment to memory, so I can always remember how blissfully content I feel with her so close, with the trust she gave me. My heart is so full right now I cannot even think about anything negative right now. All I can think about is how I want this moment to last forever. To stay in this little bubble where we are both happy. Where only us two exist. I pull her closer to me like I am afraid she will leave. Francesca moves her head to look up at me and says: ”Believe me now?”

I laugh and plant a kiss on her lips.

“Yes, I believe you now.”

“Good.”

There is a smug smile on her lips, but I cannot even blame her. I just smile back and caress her face. All I can think about is how I am going to keep her. I pull her hair behind her ear and grin to myself. On her neck is developing a dark red hickey, similar to the one on her chest. As I lightly graze my finger over it, her face changes.

“Gibbs, do I have hickey on my neck like a teenager?”

I do not answer just go over it with my finger again.

“Oh my god, I do!”

She jumps up and runs towards the bathroom. I laugh and sit up lightly.

The blanket now only covers my lower half and I wait for her to come back. When she does, she stays in the doorway and crosses her arms in front of her chest. If it were up to me, she could stay like this forever. Her naked body on display for me only. Her soft curves glowing in the moonlight and her fake angry look just turns me on all over again.

“How am I going to go to the office tomorrow? Or to my mum?”

“We could just stay here.”

Her arms unfold revealing her beautiful breast as she walks towards me. She crawls on the bed and sits on top of me.

“You know we can’t do that.”

I cradle her head with my right hand: ”Let’s just pretend.”

Pulling her towards me, I kiss her softly.

“Okay, let’s pretend”, she softly mumbles into the kiss and leans further into me. I trace her body with my fingers, relishing in the feeling of having so close. Of feeling her soft skin under my fingertips. Feeling goosebumps break out over her skin and the way I lose myself in the kiss. Her fingers trail over my upper body and all I feel is utter bliss. We kiss for a while, fingers flying over each other’s bodies, getting caught up in the moment. I do not know how long we kiss and touch each other before we fall asleep curled up into each other.

I wake up to the sound of my alarm once again. Normally I would be awake before, but with Francesca I get better sleep than before. The more I wake up the more I feel her naked body on mine. She squirms from the sound and turns further into me. My hand reaches for the alarm and turns it off. But still, I do not get up. Francesca looks like she is going back to sleep. I kiss her head and tell her that we need to get up. Her head just shakes against me shoulder and I laugh.
“Five more minutes.”

“No, no more minutes left.”

Her eyes open and search for mine.
“You are cruel” is all she mumbles as she turns away from me. The places her skin touched mine now feel cold even with the blanket on me, but I resist the urge to reach out to her again. Instead of getting ready to get out of bed, Francesca seems to snuggle up more into the second blanket on the bed. Suspicious of her silence, I sit up to look over to Francesca. Her eyes are closed, the blanket pulled close around her body. Smiling to myself I grab her shoulder and pull her over to me. To wake her up gently I press a kiss to her lips and feel her return it. Her hands reach out touch my face and my heart skips a beat at the gentleness of her touch. When I pull away, she finally seems to be awake. With a smile I turn away from her to get up. Her groan fills the room as I gather new clothes and walk towards the door.

“Can you walk around the room a little more? I like the view.” I can hear the grin in her voice before she shuffles out of bed as well. We get ready like we normally do but this time we get ready together not separately. She brushes her teeth while I am in the shower and the other way around. It feels way too normal, but I chose not to dwell on it. I am already putting on my father’s military bracelet fully dressed when Francesca is staying in front of her suitcase in matching underwear looking way too good for us to just go to work. Nevertheless, I force myself to stay away from her. When I look back towards Francesca she is crawling over the bed towards me.

“What are you doing?”

“Just thinking, you know we already are late.”

She leaves the end of her sentence open, but she grabs the collars of my blazer and pulls me towards her and kisses me showing me what she is meaning rather than telling me. I return the kiss for a second before pulling back.

“We have to go to NCIS to work on your case.”

“Yeah, yeah. But that can wait a little more, doesn’t it?”

“No.” I try to pull away, but she pulls me towards her again. On instinct my hands find her warm waist and my fingertips start to tingle from the touch. Touching her is like being pulled in by a magnet, like being pulled into the sun. I slowly trace her body with my fingers and see her pulling her lower lip in between her teeth. I let my head fall back into my neck, because I know we need to go to the office. I know we are already late. I know we do not have any time. But I also know if I do not give in now, I will keep thinking about it the whole day. Before I do anything, I look into her eyes for a second. In them I see the same fire I see when she gets angry, but with a different expression surrounding it. I was right to admire that fire from the start. A grin escapes me before I return the kiss again and pull her closer to me by her waist. She smiles into the kiss and buries her hands into my hair. Goosebumps erupt from my neck down my spine. With some pressure I pull my fingertips down her legs and then pull them out from under her to get her on her back. This time I lose all control; I do not control myself to lengthen the experience, to savor every moment I have. This time I know we have little time, so I do not waste any. I let my fingers and hand roam and grab freely over her body and drink up any noise she makes. What makes me go even more feral is the way she reciprocates my heat by tearing my clothes of and traces her fingers over me, riling me up. Before I can think about how much time has past, I drop to the floor and pull my tongue through her sex. Her moans fill the room and I start play with her clit while she pushes my head towards her. While one hand holds her legs open, I use the other to massage her breast. I feel her arch into me and smile. The more I feel her clamp and shake around me the more it turns me on. Instead of letting her cum right then I decide that I need to feel her cum around me again. Immediately I jump up, ignore Francesca’s groaning and put a condom on. Afterwards I turn her around to put her on her hands and knees. Again, she arches into me by extending her arms in front of her and pushing her hips into me. My eyes roll back into my head from the way her ass feels against my dick. I let my hand trace her spine and feel her shiver underneath my hand. Leaning forward I make my way towards her neck by kissing up her back. I feel the goosebumps and heat of her skin and use my other hand to collect her hair on the top of her hair.

“So eager for me, aren’t you?”

“You wish”, she breathes and looks back at me with defiance in her eyes. “It could be anybody back there.”

Jealousy and anger flame up in my chest and I pull her head back by her hair.
“Is that right?”

She nods as best as she can and I position myself right at her entrance but do not move any more. I can feel her squirming to push herself on me, but I stop her.

“You sticking to your story?”

Immediately her lower lip finds its way between her teeth like she is trying to keep herself from talking.

“Is that why you let me mark you last night?” I pull my tongue across her hickey. “Because everybody can be back here?” Her chest heaves and she is shivering.

“Come on, tell me.”

Her lip turns white from the pressure. Frustrated from her refusal to talk to me, I take my hand from her hip, push on her clit and start to circle it. A moan escapes her and she starts to ramble: “No, it needs to be you. I just want it to be you. Fuck, please Jethro.”

Grinning I push my hips forward and slowly sink inside of her. I barely hear her moan from all the blood rushing through my head from the pleasure suddenly shooting into my body. Without thinking I start pounding into her. The rushing dies down and I hear her moaning in the sheets. Her hands grab onto the bedsheet crumbling it and pulling at it to get some kind of stability. I fall onto my hand next to her head and kiss her shoulder. Her head is turned towards me and I see a soft smile surface between the moans as I kiss her shoulder. My hips slow down but get more forceful. Francesca’s eyes find mine and suddenly everything inside my chest turns soft and warmth spreads. It feels like time stops. Something between us sends sparks through me. Francesca moves her head towards me to press an intimate kiss onto me, while I slowly pull in and out of her. The mood between us changes from erotic and playful to loving and soft. My hand leaves her hair and run down her back until I reach her clit again. As I begin to circle it again, she moans into my mouth. I keep moving inside of her and feel the familiar pressure and tingle in my lower back and stomach. What makes it even harder to hold back, is the way she clamps down on me while she cums around me. But what really sends me over the edge is the way her mouth forms an ‘o’ and her eyes fall shut. Stars shoot into my vision and pleasure explodes inside me. Breathing hardly, I place a kiss on her nose and lay softly next to her.  When I catch my breath I say: “Now we are really late.” She laughs, kisses my nose and bounces of the bed. I take a moment to watch her gather her underwear and new clothes, before I get out of bed myself and get dressed again.

Before we eventually get to work, we stop by a café to get some coffee. I notice that Francesca tried to cover up her hickey with makeup and her hair, but I can still see it softly shining through. Every time I see it, I have to suppress a grin. When she notices me staring, she just returns a fiery look. As soon as the elevator doors open into the bullpen, McGee and Abby storm into the elevator with us. Apparently, they found something. I feel Francesca taking a step away from me when they enter, like she is trying to create a distance between us again. It is like the wall between us locks in place again. Before last night I have not noticed how far away she feels when she does it. But now when I felt her so close, her full trust, it is like a stab in the chest. Maybe she is only doing it to keep our little secret, but it still feels wrong. When we get to Abby’s lab, she rambles on about how she and McGee searched for the person who put a hit out on Francesca’s father. I mostly drown it out until they tell me, that they narrowed in down to an IP-address. They could locate it to an old, abandoned building close to the Norfolk Navy Station.

“Good work” is all I say before I turn around and gesture to McGee to come with me. I do not even make it out the door, when Francesca calls my name. She does not call me Jethro like she did yesterday and I notice. Turning around I see her walking towards me.

“I want to come with you.”

“No. You are not a federal agent anymore. You do not have authority.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I am not risking this case because you cannot wait for us to tell you what we find. You stay here.”

Anger rises in her face, but I ignore it and leave. I know it hurts her to stay on the sidelines. I know she just wants to feel useful, but she is still hurt and her presence could complicate things. Maybe it is wrong to keep her out, but her safety is more important to me, than her liking me.

Chapter Text

Francesca

I know why Gibbs told me to stay at NCIS. I know why it is important, that I am not too involved in the case. Nevertheless, I am angry. Maybe not at Jethro directly, but at the situation. Anger is an emotion I feel a lot lately. My therapist once told me that I use anger as a shield so I would not have to feel fear or pain. While that is true, anger allows me to do something. It does not paralyze me, it gives me energy to act. It allows me to stand up for myself, to identify injustice. I have felt enough fear and pain in my life. Anger seems to work just fine. Right now, my anger does not allow me to just stay in Abby’s lab. That is why I am on my way towards the evidence garage to throw a few knives. In the elevator I fold up my lose fitting pants to reveal the knife at my ankle and grab under my shirt to get the other one secured at my ribs. The ride feels unbelievably long. To get some of the sizzling energy out of my system, I let the knives turn again and again in my hands. When the familiar ding releases me from the cage, my steps carry me explosively towards the wooden boards I used as throwing practice. The techs working here recognize me but do not greet me. My facial expression probably says enough. When I get to my spot, tucked away in the corner of the garage, I start hauling the knives into the wood. I do not bother to aim. All I need is that release from throwing as hard as I can. My shoulder hurts a little and I feel my hand aching where I hurt it yesterday, but I just ignore it. How many times I throw my knives at the wood; I do not know. I just do it until I am out of breath and my whole arm aches. With my chest rising and falling fast I fist my knives and walk back towards the elevator. One of the techs opens the elevator via the iris scan for me and I thank him quickly. Back in Abby’s lab, I start to sharpen and clean them obsessively. Everything to not focus on the state of my life. Anything to not feel the immense worry I feel for Jethro when he is not around.

“It looks very very badass how you are sharpening your knives there, but they are sharp enough, Francesca. Are you okay?”

I stop my movements and look up at Abby.

“Yeah, fine.”

Her expression tells me that she does not believe me in the slightest. Abby takes the chair from her desk and sits in front of me.

“You are not fine. But I guess you were fine last night, judging by the hickey on your neck.”

Franticly I pull my hair to the front to cover it, but her grin tells me it is useless.

“So, if you do not want to tell me about what’s bothering you, maybe let’s talk about last night.”

My head falls in my neck and I can practically feel her grin growing. Still, I do not answer her.

“I can get the photos if the help you remember. I mean I already know there is something between you two so you can tell me.”

“Please, do not get the photos.”

I sigh and look back at her amused face. Her green eyes sparkle at me enticing me to spill my secrets to her.

“Yes, there is something between us. Yes, we did something last night. No, you cannot tell anyone. No, I will not tell you more.”

“Killjoy.”

Now I laugh.

“Really? How about you tell me what happened with McGee and you a few years back?”

Her grin falls from her face and her cheeks grow red. It is my turn to grin.

“Touche. You can still tell me when something bothers you.”

“I know, it is just this whole situation is difficult to say the least.”

A nod is all I see before she pulls me into a strong hug. To my surprise the hug actually helps. I forgot how good it felt to have people care about you, just for you. Not because they are attracted or related to you but just because they care. I forgot how good it felt to have a good friend. When she releases me from the hug a soft smile sits on both of our lips.

“But you still have to tell me how you feel about Gibbs.”

“There is nothing to tell.”

“Really? You have a hickey on your neck, you fight with him and let him calm you down, he is running towards you when you are hurting. Should I go on?”

I press my hands into my eyes and sigh.

“It is complicated.”

“So you really are into him?”

“Maybe, yes, no, I do not know. I have a lot happening right now that my feelings are all over the place.”

“But there are feelings.”

I nod, not daring to say it out loud.

“Aah, this is so great!”

She is jumping and spinning in a circle.

“Stop jumping, this does not mean anything! And you cannot tell anyone, okay?”

Abby signs a cross over her heart and says “Scouts honor”. I just silently thank her and walk out to do more research.

“Wait, you have to tell me more!”, Abby shouts after me but I just laugh. Upstairs I sit at Gibbs’ desk and start to research on Leo. But even though I search for what feels hours, I found nothing important. He watches disgusting porn and goes to disgusting strip clubs but there is nothing illegal about being a pig. So being nauseated for the last hour got me nothing. I was just about to quit when Gibbs and McGee walk in from the elevator. On instinct I stand up to see if they got anything. Tim talks first:”Looks like some kind of a command center. We collected some evidence and I put a cloning software on the computers. We hope the will use it soon.”

I nod not knowing what to say. Gibbs stops in front of me taking a sip of coffee like he is waiting for me to do something. His blue eyes scan me over. In response goosebumps emerge on my skin.

“What?”

His hand motions forward towards his desk and I step away letting him sit down. He does not talk to me but begins typing bringing my attention towards his hands. Immediately images of this morning and last night flood my mind. My heart begins to race and I cannot tear my eyes away from his hands. The intricate veins, strong long fingers, soft callouses. The way they move over the keyboard, shuffle around paper, grab the coffee cup. Those are all so ordinary things but he makes them attractive enough to lose my focus.

“Anything I can help you with, Morales?”, Gibbs voice pulls me out of my stupor. You can hear the grin in his voice and warmth spreads into my cheeks.
“Nope.”

When the first wave of embarrassment dies down, mischief replaces it. Jethro still looks at his screen while I try to form a plan to tease him. I lean back against Gibbs’ shelf waiting for an opportunity.

“I am going to go down to Abby to set up the surveillance.” My nod is the only answer McGee gets from both of us before he leaves us alone in the bullpen. A grin splits my lips and I drop forward leaning my hands on his desk.

“Being funny, Jethro?”

He turns his head towards me our faces close to touching again.

“Not really.”

“Good, because two can play this game.”

“What game?”

My eyes pierce his and I bite my lip smiling down at him. While he fights the urge to look down, I lean forward to get my mouth closer to his ear. Of course that lets me whisper something to him, but it also pushes my chest right into his face.

“Do not tease me in front of your team or you will lose your focus real quick.”

I can feel his heartbeat picking up as I slowly fall back. My hand pushes some files down to the ground. It is a cheap move, but you know, it works. With locked legs I bend down giving Jethro a clear view of my ass. I take a while to collect everything before I stand upright again. When I grin back at him he is just shaking his head smiling.

“Do not start this with me, Francesca.”

“You started”, is all I say before I sit down at Ziva’s desk waiting. I do not know for what, new information, whatever.  Jethro just watches me, eyeing me crossing my legs. The sound of strong footsteps announce an intruder before we hear them.
“Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs.”

All excited Abby runs towards us, but stops when Jethro does not turn around to look at her. Just because of the principle of the thing I do not break the eye contact first.

“Okay, you two get a room.”

I laugh and Gibbs gives me one last suggestive look before his attention shifts towards Abby.

“What do you got Abby?”

She grins at him knowingly before answering.

“I found a few accounts who answered the hit on Francesca’s father. If we find out who killed him, I can find the money trail.”

While Abby is happy to have found a clue, I am definitely not. If we want to find out who killed my father, we are going to have to exhume him and I do not know if I am okay with that.

“You want Ducky du exhume Francesca’s father?”

Her smile falls and her eyes fall on me.

“Well, yeah.”

Now both pair of eyes fall on me. I struggle to breath, my body becomes rigid and my hands start to shake. I never looked at my fathers dead body and I do not want to. Of course, I would not have to, but knowing he is down in autopsy would kill me. I am sure of it. Besides my reluctance, objectively I know it is the right thing to do.

“You can do it, but I will not be here when you do.”

Gibbs scans me for any more reaction, so I nod slightly at him, signaling that I am okay.

“Go down to Ducky and tell him what to do.”

Abby nods and walks away. I can see the concern in Jethro’s eyes and as much as it warms me that he cares for me I do not need him doubting me right now. Crossing my arms I feel his concern change to knowing humor. He shakes his head and sits down again. So, I guess we are going to exhume my father.
“I need to tell my mother.”

Sighing he stands up again and says:”Let’s go.”

“I need some kind of disguise.”

He grins at me. I would pay copious amounts of money to know what he is thinking right now.

“Ever ridden in the trunk of a car?”

“I can wear a wig, glasses and handcuffs.”

His steps take him closer to me.

“Good to know.”

“Don’t go there now.”

“So later, then?”

I laugh and walk past him toward Abby’s lab. I know she keeps a few wigs there. Draped in a blond wig and way to big sunglasses, I sit in the back of Gibbs’ car. His eyes keep switching over to me in the mirror, trying to see if I am alright.

“So how are you liking the handcuffs?”

“You never stop, do you?”

Gibbs follows me upstairs to my mother’s room. Before I knock, I turn around to Gibbs.

“Are you going to wait here?”

“Do you now want me to meet your mum, Morales?”

“One, you already met her. Two, I just want you to not say anything about us to her.“ As I finish my sentence the door behind me opens. Quickly I turn around and hug my mum.

“About time, I was getting bored back here.”

I smile at her and step into the hotel room.

“Agent Gibbs.”
Gibbs nods at her and from the sound of her voice, I already know she knows. I do not know how, but she does.

“I am afraid this is nothing good, mum.”

“What is it, mija?”

I motion my mum to sit down on the bed with me, while Gibbs walks through the room.

“We are going to need to dig up dad.”

Her eyes bulge out of her head and she coughs. I guess it sounds as unbelievable as it feels.

“He may have been murdered and we need to find out by who.”

A deep sigh leaves her lips and she leans forward fixing her eyes on the floor.

“Yeah, I always figured something was wrong with him having a heart attack.”

I can sense something else is on her mind, but she seems reluctant to talk.

“Yeah, me too. Just thought you wanted to know.”

“Yeah, well I have not been at his grave in a long time.”

“You have other ways to remember and honor him.”

“That is right, mija.” Her arm slings around me and she kisses my cheek. Warmth spreads in my chest, the love of a mother is truly something special.

Chapter Text

Gibbs

Exhuming Francesca’s father truly does not feel right. I know she does not want to do it, but she pushes through. Again, her strength through this all is admirable. Seeing her with her mother makes me realize how important this relationship is to her. The energy she gets just from talking to her. The way her eyes sparkle, the admiration on her face. When Ducky calls me to inform me that everything is ready for the exhumation, I call Dorneget to get him over her. Normally I would not want to leave Francesca alone during this time, but I feel like I need to be there, if not to protect Francesca, but to protect her father’s legacy. He is an impressive guy, a great marine and had a large role in making Francesca who she is. Just for that he deserves every honor there is. I linger in the background trying to give Francesca and her mother their space, but Francesca’s eyes keep flying to me, watching me move, drink my coffee. Every time her mother catches her glancing at me, Francesca looks away, but her mother just grins knowingly. She definitely knows. Mother’s intuition or just Francesca telling her, but she knows and from what I can tell, she is delighted in her daughter’s attempt to sneak around. I still have not forgotten her warning to look after Francesca. Not in a bad way, but like a promise I intend to keep. For their privacy I am trying not to listen to them talk, but I do notice them talking about Kavanaugh and from the looks of it, Mrs. Morales is as mad about the whole situation as me. More than Francesca. I walk around in the back of the room when Francesca’s mum calls my name. With strong steps I walk towards the bed where they are sitting and see Francesca going red in embarrassment.

“Agent Gibbs, I have a quick question for you.”

My only answer is a nod, not really knowing how to read the situation.

“When you catch Leo Kavanaugh, what are you going to do?”

“Arrest him.”

“Not kill him?”

“Only if he gives me a reason.”

“Like photographing you making out with my daughter?”

A quick laugh escapes me, while Francesca loudly gasps.

“Legally, that would not be a reason, no.”

“Good. Because he can rot in prison. Death is too easy for these boys. I told her father that, but well.”

She intentionally leaves out any details, but we all know what she means.
“Intend to get him there.”

“Good.”

I start making my steps backwards again but she stops me again.

“Oh and Agent Gibbs. Do not let my daughters anger problems fool you, she is very soft underneath.”

Mrs. Morales grins at me, like we are now in on an inside joke embarrassing Francesca.

“I noticed. Is that why she often cries after fighting?”

“Yes, definitely. Do not be fooled by that.”

“I won’t.”

Francesca just sits beside her with her face buried in her hands. A grin escapes me, but I get interrupted by a knock on the door. Immediately I change into caution mode. My hand flies to my gun and I motion to both of them to stay quiet. Slowly I walk towards the door being sure I do not make any sound. With my gun drawn I look through the peephole, just to the Dorneget waiting. Sighing I open the door and let him inside. He greets me and everyone else, but I just ignore it and gather my stuff.

“Do not let anyone in or out, before I get back, Dorneget”, is all I say before I close the door behind me and drive off towards the cemetery. The whole ride I have nervous energy running through me. I know that all we will find are bones, but I have a feeling there is so much more to his death. A gut feeling I cannot shake. I did not voice anything to Francesca because I do not want to worry her before I know anything. Ducky and Palmer meet me at the cemetery. Even from afar I can hear and see the excavator working through the grass. My heartbeat picks up and I make my way towards the grave. The headstone is a beautiful marble with a fine inscription. I can already see the dark wood of the coffin on the ground with the dirt laying around it. It is a strong, beautiful coffin, worthy of the person inside. The chains on the coffin straighten and groan under the weight. The noise is almost deafening when the coffin finally moves. With a dull bang the coffin lands on the grass sending my heartrate into overdrive. Ducky waits for my approving nod, before he breaks the seal of the coffin and grabs the edge of the cover. A few second tick by, Ducky is talking about something I am not listening to while I stare at the coffin like it is going to speak to me. Finally, four hands grab the lid and lift it up. Time stops. Breathing stops. My heartbeat stops. The coffin is empty. Nothing but a few gym weights. Nobody was ever in that coffin. It is pristine. Nobody is saying anything, all I can hear are some birds in the trees and the fucking silence around us. While there are thousands of questions flying through my head, there is one thought taking point. Francesca. How am I supposed to tell her that her father is not in his coffin? That he is probably alive? Or somebody never put his body in the coffin? How is she supposed to live with another life altering thing being thrown in her face? What if her father is really dead and she is getting her hopes up? You do not get over something like the loss of a parent and putting her through all that again is nothing I want to do. Everyone is looking at me, waiting.

“Get the coffin to Abby.”

After that I turn around on my heel, walk back to the car and start driving. I want to go to the hotel to talk to Francesca, but I do not really know what I am supposed to tell her. There is so much and nothing to tell at the same time. I hate not being in control of the investigation. Especially when I break my rules for them. I cannot think straight, when it comes to Francesca. I cannot think rational. All I care about is her. All I worry about is her. Angry at my lack of focus, I punch my steering wheel. It does not change anything, so I just turn around and drive towards the Navy Yard again. I need news and I need them now. With too much energy in my steps, I walk back to the bull pin to get news from McGee. His eyes bulge out of his head and he struggles to stand up.

“I found something on the computer. It looks like auction sites I cannot make out what they are auctioning. But I could trace some calls to the army and navy. I am having some agents bring them in.”

“If we want to get all the information we need to call CID. Talk to Agent Mann.”

I try to keep all my emotion inside not let my anger out on my agents.

“Anything from DiNozzo?”

“Nobody has been there yet. What happened at the cemetery?”

“Coffin was empty.”

“What?”

I look at him, not wanting to repeat myself. He shuts up and walks back to his desk. Sighing I push away from my desk and make my way downstairs to Abby. I know she has not much to tell me because the coffin has not been with her long, but I need answers. When I walk through the door, Abby says: ”Gibbs, I am good, but not that good.”

“Give me anything you have.”

“Well, I can tell you no corpse decayed in there. If Francesca’s father was ever in there, he was not there for long.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, what are you going to tell Francesca?”

I shake my head and walk out of the lab.

“Gibbs, just one thought!”

Sighing I turn around.

“If it were you and you had to fake your death, would you tell anyone?”

“No beats the point.”

“Would you have told Shannon?”

Ice freezes my veins. Barely anyone is brave enough to mention her to me. Abby is one of the few. I take a second to think about it. Keeping her safe would be my first priority, but I do not think that I could live with myself if I knew I would hurt her.

“Not everything.”

“Then I think you should talk to Francesca’s mother.”

My eyes find hers and I see pride and worry in them.

“I know you care about Francesca, but you have to be honest.”

My eyebrows jump up, not wanting to discuss this with her. I barely allow myself to think about it. To think about how I feel about her or how I should act towards her. To think about anything other than her wellbeing. Because if I do, there is nothing stopping me spiraling. Without answering Abby I walk back to the elevator again. Inside I lean against the cold steel trying to cool down my anger and thoughts. Of course it does not work. My emotions are still in overdrive. I stop the elevator to get a second to breathe. To control myself. With a strong punch against the elevator wall, I let myself feel all the anger and worry for a second. I have not felt this much in a long time and that is specifically what scares me. Nevertheless, I have a job to do and I have to do it even when I am too involved. So all I can do is drive back to the hotel again and ask Mrs. Morales some questions. This time I leave my car a little away from the hotel and sneak in through the back of the hotel. I do not want to pull to much attention to me visiting the hotel this much. During my whole walk to the room I was contemplating on how to talk to her. Normally, I would be assertive and aggressive but this is Francesca’s mother, if I treat her that way I fear I am going to ruin everything. Still, she withheld information if she really knows he is alive. All I know is this whole thing is just complicated. Standing in front of Mrs. Morales room I decide I am just going to talk to Francesca first. Maybe if I get her to talk to her mother things will be easier. It is a big maybe, but at least it is a plan.

Chapter Text

Francesca

As soon as Gibbs leaves my mother pulls me into the bathroom. Confusion immediately spreads, because my mother is never like this. This rushed, this stressed. When she shuts and locks the door I try to speak, but she would not let me.

“Please, Francesca, do not hate me.”

“What? Why would I?”

“Your father will not be in that casket.”

I feel like something breaks open in my chest. I cannot tell if it is something good or bad, all I know is that it is overwhelming.

“What do you mean? Where did you bury him instead?”

She takes a deep breath just adding to the suspense of the whole thing.

“I didn’t bury him.”

“What do you mean? You cremated him?”

“No, no.”

A deep sigh leaves her and my heartbeat just picks up more and more.
“He never died.”

Blood rushes through my ears and I feel like I might pass out. My thoughts rush through my head but it feels empty at the same time. There is no emotion or thought I can grab or pinpoint. I do not even have words or questions I can throw at her head for lying to me. For keeping this from me. For letting me grief my father when I never had to.

“What do you mean he never died?”

“He faked his death; people were after him.”

“Yeah we figured that out. So he is still alive?”

“Yes.”

“So the people who torturted me were right?”

A nod is all I get. I expect familiar anger to rise in my chest. Or relief, joy, anything. All I get is fear. What if I lose him again? What if he got killed and I am just getting my hopes up now? I feel panic rise up in my chest. My heartbeat feels dangerously high, breathing becomes harder and harder and I feel like a weight is pressing down on my chest. My vision is getting blurry and black begins to creep in. I see my mother talking to me but all I hear is a distant ringing. Stumbling backwards I slump against the door and slowly slide down. My heart should not beat this fast. Is this what a heart attack feels like? I have been in so many dangerous situations, got tortured and now I am dying from a heart attack. My head hits my knees and I try to expend my chest but it feels impossible. A touch on my shoulder makes me flinch and my head shoots up. I try to focus my eyes to see my mother, but I cannot. Nothing is in focus except fear. The sweat on my hands and back, the shiver in my arms. The lack of air in my lungs and the strong, fast beat of my heart. Am I going to die? It must be. This must be a nightmare. This is not real. Hands capture my face anchoring me. I focus on my mum’s eyes and slowly focus on my mother’s eyes. It is hard to really see her through my tears, but I focus on the caramel brown. Her voice sounds distant, but she keeps talking to me. I try to suck in air into my lungs but nothing works. Maybe passing out will not be so bad. Just stop this for a time. I close my eyes ready to pass out when, my mum shakes my head.

“Francesca!”

“I. Can’t. Breathe.”

I am feeling lightheaded already.

“Come on, mija. Breathe with me.”

She breathes deeply in through her nose and slowly out of her mouth. I try to copy her, but it is useless. Before I can give up she motions for me to keep trying. We stay like this for a while. Me trying to breathe, feeling like I am slowly passing out. I do not really know how long it takes for me to calm down, but it feels like a lifetime. When my breath and heart calms down, the headache starts. Just what I needed, a migraine. My mum seems to understand immediately and helps me to get to the bed, where I lie down and try to go to sleep. Dorneget tries to ask what is wrong, but it seems like my mother shuts him up. With her gentle touch on my forehead, I fall asleep again.

I wake up again to the sound of familiar voices. My head is still throbbing, but the nausea is gone. The room is almost dark, probably due to my mum. Just the fact that she still thinks about everything makes me smile. Slowly I sit up and see Jethro silently arguing with my mother. I guess he is up to speed. It does not take him very long to notice I am awake. Even in the dark I can see the worry in his eyes. A small “hi” is all that fills the room now. My mother and Gibbs both stare at me like I might break down.

Sighing I say: “You can continue fighting out loud now.”
“I was just asking your mother, why she never told us the little important information, that your father is alive.”

“I never know where he is or where he has been! I just know he told me never to tell anyone.”

“Not even your daughter?” He points at me in anger.

“He made me promise not to!”

The room goes silent. My mum is not someone who yells.

“David only told me because I caught him making arrangements. Of course I wanted to tell Francesca, but he was afraid it would endanger her, so I never did.” Her eyes find mine. “I am sorry, Francesca.”

I just nod. It may be devastating but rationally I know my parents where right. Again, Jethro is madder on my behalf. Or on the behalf of the investigation, I am not quite sure.

“I need all the information you have.”

“I do not have any. I never knew where he went or what his plan was. He never told me.”

So even knowing my father is alive does not help. Gibbs stares my mother down for a few seconds before he walks over to the bed I am sitting on. He leans over to put weight on his hands he placed on the bed. His face gets closer to mine and on instinct my body turns to him.

“Are you okay?”

His blue eyes scan my face and then land on mine.

“I’m fine. Just a headache again.”

His head slightly leans to the side, like this is not what he means.

“I’m going to be fine.”

I guess he is satisfied with the answer because he pulls away again.

“When was the last time you saw your husband?”

“A day before he “died”. He left home to go to the base.”

A small nod is all the answer she gets before his gaze finds mine again.

“I am going to go back to NCIS and then home. Do you want to stay or come with me?”

My mother’s eyebrow twitches but she gets her facial expression under control relatively quickly. Sighing I stand up grab my shoes to get ready. Gibbs waits for me by the door while I give my mother a strong hug. I can tell she worries by the way she pulls me in.

“It is alright really”, I whisper to her, trying to calm her nerves. When I pull back, I watch her face trying to decipher if I can leave her alone.

“Oh, do not worry about me. Me and Dorneget are going to have a good time.” Her smile seems real enough, so I take my disguise again, making my mother smile. Apparently, I look ridiculous. Back at NCIS Gibbs gets McGee on finding out my father’s last steps. Ziva and Tony are still staking out the command center, so I have nothing to do again. Before I can ask Gibbs what else he needs, he is already gone. Groaning I let myself fall on Gibbs’ chair.

“Everything okay, France?”

“Peachy.”

“I am sorry to hear about your dad.”

“Sorry that he is alive?” There it is again. That familiar anger.

“No, no that is not what I meant. Forget it. But you should sit there. Gibbs hates it when people sit at his desk.”

“I will be fine.”

“Oh, okay.”

I feel like I scared him, but it is good to be angry so I hold on to the feeling. Maybe it is bad for me to hold on to my anger so often, but right now I have too much to deal with to just let myself feel everything. I spin around the chair for a few times just to stop in front of Jethro’s pinboard, slowly making my way through the myriads of pictures. None of them show Jethro. Just people I guess are important to him or people he helped. It is kind of honorable that he does not displays his accomplishments or his wins, but rather the reason he does his work. A small smile works its way on my lips and the warmth in my chest slowly replaces the anger. Leave it to Gibbs to calm me down even when he is not around. The way he gets under my skin needs to be studied, because this is not normal. The deep sense of calm he elicits in me. While it scares me, it is also unlike anything I have ever felt before. No emotion regulation my therapist tried to teach me could ever come close to the silence of my thoughts in his arms. Jethro probably felt it before. That is when it hits me. He will probably never feel like this again. The imbalance of it all almost knocks me out. The more I feel for him, the more I realize that I will never come close to Shannon. I am not trying to. I get it. But there is a selfish part of me who wants to be „it“ for someone and Jethro already has that space filled. I have to remind myself that I am not looking for „it“. I am just seeing how it goes. I am just letting myself feel something good; it does not have to mean so much. I am still trying to convince myself on that, when Gibbs walks in again. Even if I tried, I cannot convince myself. The way his eyes fly to mine and the way he just oozes confidence empties my mind. Looks like I am deeper in the shit than I thought. But I have no time to think about it now, because my father is missing, not dead; denial is my only option and it seems like a rather good one. Just to provoke him I make no effort to stand up and let him have his place. As if he senses my reluctance, he motions with his fingers for me to stand up. A motion I am way to familiar with so I just grin. Images flash my mind and I conjure up a new emotion to cling to. Lust. Lust is easy. Lust is not serious. Lust is fun. Again, he seems to sense my shift in emotion, because his eyes go all dark and worried as he shakes his head. He should just play along but he does not. He does not let me focus on something easy.

“Fine, I’ll find someone else.” With that I stand up and go to the elevator. I do not know where I am going, I just know that I am a mess. Before the doors of the elevator close, a strong hand cuts between them forcing them to open again. Gibbs’ gorgeous face comes into view and he steps into the elevator.

„What is your problem?“

I cross my arms in front of my chest.

„Gee, what is not my problem these days?“

He rolls his eyes but his concern is still there.

„If you need to be mad at me to cope with everything, fine. But do not start this bullshit with me.“

I feel exposed from the way he just seems to read me.

„Anything else?“

„Yeah, do not ever imply again that you are going to fuck someone else. You are mine.“

His eyes darken with every word and he points at my chest with so much strength I think he might push me but he does not. As possessive and old fashioned his words are, they are reassuring that he cares enough to keep me close. The elevator doors open giving me way towards the gym. Before I can get out, Gibbs hits the button to close the doors again. I guess we are not over with this conversation. As soon as we move again, he stops the elevator and takes a step towards me. I do not move. I try not to show any emotion, but it is difficult with the reaction he evokes in me. From the closeness of our faces I can make out all the dark flecks of blue in his eyes. It is astonishing how beautiful he is. Anger mixes with lust into a lethal mixture. On instinct I push my face forward to press my lips to his. My fingers comb through his hair pulling him towards me. The softness in my fingers, the slow motions of his lips and the warmth of his body are just intoxicating. Just deliciously mind-numbing. His soft tongue traces my lip making me moan softly. Both of his hands grab my hips and pulls me toward him. We stumble against the wall, the cold metal hits my back but I almost do not feel it. Even with him pressed against me, I have the urge to get closer. With a small jump, I wrap my legs around his waist and grind into him. I am about to push myself more against him, when he pulls away from me. My hands fall to his neck and confusion spreads. His touches become softer and it seems like something changed.

“Distraction won’t work.”

“We can try.” I grin und lean forward again. But instead of meeting my lips he gently stops me.

“This is not something to do in an elevator at work. When we are home, I can distract you all you want.”

He places a kiss on my neck and I let my head fall back. Sighing I loosen my grip on his hips and put my feet on the ground again. Disappointment and Anticipation mixes in my chest, but there is also the nagging feeling of fear and pain that I cannot seem to shake. To distract myself from my emotions I focus on Jethro’s jacket, straightening it, to conceal any signs of our little make out session. His thumb probs up my face to make me look at him.

“You do not have to be fine, Francesca. You do not have to be strong right now.”

I nod and press my lips to his again. This time it is gentler and loving. When I pull back, he smiles at and takes a step back. Sighing I push the button to get the elevator moving again and see him getting his signature hair in place again. Something about him trying to get himself put together makes me want to giggle, but I refuse. The rest of the evening is spent with me sitting at Ziva’s desk waiting and Gibbs running around working.

On the way home the agonizing headache starts again. Nothing seems to help; massaging my head, trying to cool it on the car window or just shutting my eyes. I need sleep. I need to find my father so all this worry can stop. Will I ever see him again? Is he still alive? Where is he? No question answered. Nothing. When we get inside I immediately walk upstairs to go to bed. I just fall inside and close my eyes.

“At least take off your shoes and put your knives away.”

“No.” I just roll on my stomach and bury my face in the pillow. I hear Gibbs sighing behind me and then feel him slowly taking off my shoes. If I was completely fine, I would be wondering what he is doing but I am not, so I do not think about. His hands work to my trousers gently pulling them off. There is nothing sexy or erotic about the way he is doing it, just care. He removes all my knives, jewellery and uncomfortable items of clothing before he pulls one of his shirts over my head. There is no power left in me to thank him or to help him. I just let him do whatever he does. After he puts the blanket on top of me I hear him walk around the room. But it is all in my periphery. My consciousness is filled with worry and the headache blinding me. A little while later the bed dips besides me and Jethro’s smell covers my senses. His warmth spreads around my upper body and his hands begin to massage my temples. Immediately the pain lessens and I lean into the touch. And while Jethro holds me I feel my world spin out of control around me.

Chapter Text

Gibbs

My worry for Francesca takes on new highs. At least she fell asleep and is now curled up into my side. Originally, I wanted to work on the boat tonight, but I cannot get myself to leave her lying here alone. I do not want her to wake up and be alone. With her asleep I allow myself to take her in once again. Her forehead is tensed and her lips pushed together. Still, she looks fucking beautiful. Even in the dark her skin seems to glow. With nothing to do but look at her soft breathing, I do something I never do this early, I fall asleep.

I do not know how long I actually sleep but I wake up to Francesca thrashing in my arms. I pull her softly against me, but she keeps trying to get away. She must be having a nightmare. One she has not had for a while, but I guess it is natural for her to have them now. I softly say her name, but she does not wake up. It takes me almost screaming her name for her to wake up. Her chest heaving, forcefully trying to get air into her lungs, her eyes scanning the room panicked. It takes her a while to realize what is going on. When her eyes finally fall on mine, she seems to calm down a little. My heart seems to split open when I see the hurt in her eyes, the fear. There is nothing I can do. I cannot take her pain away, all I can do is hold her. As gently as I can I pull her against me. To my surprise she immediately moves with me, grabs my upper body and holds onto me tightly. Trying to do something to calm her down, I guide my hand towards the back of her head to softly stroke her hair. Her breath against my chest gets lighter, maybe she is relaxing a bit.

“You okay?”

The answer I get is a soft shake of her head. I do not answer her but just keep stroking her head. More than anything, I try to be her stabilty, security. Maybe I am failing at that. Maybe me constantly being with her makes everything worse. Not because I am narcissistic to think that she loves me but because she seems to get under her skin. With everything going on maybe it is not what she needs. Maybe I should keep my distance the next few days. Let Ziva handle the protection. Just as I am about to make a mental schedule on how to avoid her, she says:“Please do not leave me.“ Her voice is so low I almost do not hear her. But I did. She might as well have yelled, the impact would be the same. Her words echo through my mind making my whole body still. It is like a knife right in my chest. The vulnerability she shows me is such a privilege I do not know what to do with it. After a few seconds of stupor I lean my forehead against her head and whisper:“I won‘t.“

My mood couldn’t be worse the next morning. Not only am I deeply worried about Francesca, I am completely stumped about the case. If Francesca notices my mood, she does not say anything. I drink my coffee in silence and get ready by myself again. Frustration has buried its talons deep in my chest by the time I am waiting for Francesca by the door. My mind is spinning through all the evidence, trying to notice if we missed anything. Of course there is nothing. I lean against the wall with my eyes closed when Francesca lays her hands on my chest making my heart rate spike.  Immediately my eyes fly open to take in everything about her. The pain has eased away from her face and she looks almost refreshed. The sun shining through the glass of the door make her eyes look even more gorgeous. And just like that my head empties. All the thoughts gone. Almost in slow motion she pushes her weight on her tiptoes and places a small soft kiss on my lips. It is so innocent and sweet I have to smile despite my bad mood.

„We do not have to go to work today, it is Saturday after all.“

I kiss her forehead and bury my hands in her curly hair.

„I want to find your dad. I want you to be free.“

Red creeps in her cheeks and again I feel like I have to commit this all to memory because I will not have her forever. Before I can notice all the little details about her eyes, face, lips, the feel of her hands, she steps away and opens the door. With a silent sigh I follow her out the door. After our usual run for coffee and a Caf-Pow for Abby, we immediately go to her lab. It looks like she just got in. Judging by the way she greets us, she already had some caffeine though.

„Ah, my favorite lovebirds.“

Abby grins, I raise my eyebrows and Francesca laughs. At least they think it is hilarious.

„Did you find something new last night?“

„Such a killjoy this one.“, she says clearly towards Francesca who just bites her lip smiling. Abby leads us towards her computer and puts a photo onto the screen.

„This was uploaded onto the computers at the command center, Ziva and Tony were staking out.“

It is a photo of DiNozzo and David in their car with the text „Good try, Agent Gibbs“ written over it. Looks like they know we were there.

„Can you trace where it was uploaded from?“

„No, not yet. Someone really knows how to hide their tracks, like NSA, CIA level good.“

A familiar gut feeling emerges. Ryan Mason did say that he had influence high up into the Navy and Francesca‘s termination at the CIA was clearly fabricated. Whatever this is, they have powerful people on their side. Without another word I put the Caf-Pow on Abby‘s desk, place a kiss on Abby‘s cheek and leave the lab with Francesca by my side.

„You go to the bullpen, I have to go to the director.“

„We are agreeing that they have someone in the CIA, that‘s why I got fired?“

„Yep.“

“Great, just great.”

Before the elevator doors can open again, she makes it stop again. Deja-vu.

“I got to tell you something and it has to stay between us.”

“What doesn’t stay between us?”

“True.”

She takes a deep breath and I get ready for something difficult.

“Well, it is memorial day on Monday and when my father was alive we would always go to a Navy Memorial. If we lived close enough, we would always go to the one in Washington. Sometimes I do it now, but I kind of hope that my father still does it.”

“You want to stake out the memorial on Monday?”

She nods and starts to massage her hands. Her jaw grinds and she seems to get more nervous by the second.
“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. There are just so many unknowns. The possibility that he is going there is thin to begin with. But I just know that I am going to get my hopes up. I am not ready to be let down again.”

I pull her into a hug and kiss her shoulder. Of course, this does not help the situation but maybe it helps her nerves. In my head I am already trying to go through thousands of possibilities to help Francesca. After a little while I let her go and pull back.

“We can stake it out.”

I hear her release a deep breath.

“But we can also work out to leave him some kind of hidden message in case he comes back another day.”

“What if someone sees me-“

“We will have someone else do it. Unnoticeable.”

“Oh yeah, that is a good idea. Who will we sent?”

“McGee. He is a Navy brat and he was not seen with you as much. It would seem the most natural.”

She nods but still seems nervous.

“It will be fine. We are working on it.”

“I trust you.”

Warmth spreads in my chest and I smile lightly. I pull the switch to get the elevator moving and the doors open. Slowly she walks out still looking at me and Ducky walks in.

“I am going up, Duck.”

“Yeah, I was looking for you.”

My sigh is overshadowed by the sound of the doors closing.
“What is going on?”

“I was just going to ask you the same thing. Rule Number 10?”

Annoyance and nervousness rush through me.

“Everybody is talking about how you are quite infatuated with the witness living in your house.”

“Oh Ducky, are you gossiping now?”

“So, it is true.”

I role my eyes and do not answer him.

“I just want to make sure you are alright.”

“I am fine, Duck.”

The doors open and I am leaving the elevator just for Ducky to follow me.

“I am not judging, Jethro.”

I turn around to look at him.

“I just want to tell you that you are both in very difficult abnormal situations. She definitely evokes the protector in you and I know she needs someone strong right now. But you need to realize that it is not the normalcy. Just ask yourself, what will happen if the case is solved.”

“No need to worry, Ducky.”

I walk away from him and towards the director’s office. Even though, I did not tell Ducky, I am worried about what will happen. If she will still be attracted to me if I am not the one protecting her. When I am just one of the options. When there are more, younger options. Options who did not see her scream from nightmares. Options who she can built something new with, something that has nothing to do with her trauma. I am worried, that I am going to lose someone who matters to me again. I am worried that I am going to be the one bringing her pain instead of being the one to lessen it. But I do not have time to worry or think about that right now. I need to find Francesca’s father and the people trying to kill the both of them.

Chapter Text

Francesca

I trade places with Ducky, leaving Jethro in the elevator. The bullpen is crowded today, voices spilling over each other. My steps get swallowed by the carpet and the noise, so Ziva, Tim and Tony do not notice me standing behind them. They have put the picture of Gibbs’ first wife along with three other red headed beautiful women, the old director of NCIS Jenny Sheppard and me. All of them with red hair except me. All of them gorgeous. All of them very different from me.

“Little change of type, don’t you think?”, Tony crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“Maybe it is not about looks, but spirit.”, Ziva adds and I just softly lean against Ziva’s desk waiting for them do continue.

“Nah, that would be a lot. Maybe he likes the damsel in distress thing.”

Now I have heard enough. I may need a little protection right now, but I am not and never will be a damsel in distress. With a little force I hit the heel of my boot to Ziva’s desk and watch them turn around while clearing the screen. I cross my arms in front of my chest and wait for them to say something.

“Well, we were just thinking about the case.”

I raise one eyebrow at them and wait for them to elaborate. Ziva grins at me, while McGee and DiNozzo scramble for an explanation.

“We were just thinking about motive-“

“And of course Gibbs’ ex-wives are important to motive about killing my father and torturing me how?”

Silence follows. DiNozzos mouth opens and closes like he is not finding the words.

“We were gossiping,” McGee admits and looks to the ground embarrassed.

I would grin but what they pointed out is obvious; I am not Gibbs’ type. Rolling my eyes at them I sit down at Jethro’s desk and begin to research my father’s last steps. When that gets me nowhere, I try to think of important dates and places he would be. Something that normal people would not know. My mind is spinning with information about my father, still it is empty. That is until I remember a story he told me. It had something to do with an old marine friend of his. He was not in his unit so maybe nobody else made the connection except for me. The marine’s name was Alejandro Rivera. He was young when my father was stationed to his unit to help them out. I think he took him under his wing because he saw himself in him. Maybe that is why it hurt so much when he died. My dad told me that he was on his last mission, when he got killed by landmine. The tragic thing about it was, that he just got his life together, wanted to go to college. My father really mourned for him. That is when it hit me. Alejandro was in a gang before he joined the Marines to support his family. To let his daughter have a good life and go to college someday. With his death she could not do this anymore. But knowing my dad, he would send the family money in some way. Adrenaline rushes through my veins, excited to find any sign of life from my father. I start typing and researching like my life depended on it. In a way it does. From Alejandro Rivera’s marine paperwork, I find his mother and his daughter. From the bank statements I cannot find any indication, but when I comb through Alessandra Rivera’s social media, I notice that she is going to Georgetown. Which means she either got a scholarship or someone is helping her out somehow. I feel more and more energy coursing through my veins. Access to the college record is restricted of course, but with a little help from McGee I am searching through it. Georgetown University has her tuition paid in advance by a nonprofit. When I dig deeper the nonprofit does not seem legit. There is no office, no executive board, nothing. The only thing legit is the bank account. The bank account only has enough in it to pay for Alessandra’s tuition. I am so entranced by my research I barely notice Gibbs behind me. His presence I notice, but I do not acknowledge him. The bank account traces back to a shell company in Mexico. To be precise in Iguala. As I see the name I smile. Iguala is the town where my grandparents are from. From that on it is a dead end. But I am sure of one thing. My father was alive two month ago to pay the tuition. Grinning I delete all the evidence from Gibbs’ computer and turn around to meet him.

“I will tell you at home.”

With that I stand up leaving for Abby’s lab. I know Gibbs does not like to wait, but I cannot risk anyone else overhearing. When I walk through Abby’s door, she seems very surprised to see me.

“Francesca! Need a break?”
“Not really, need your computer expertise.”

A grin spreads across her dark lips and I can see a glimmer of excitement in her eyes.

“I need you to flag a bank account, without anybody finding out you flagged it.”

“Now that is interesting. I guess you will not tell me why?”

“For everyone’s safety no.”

“Mysterious, I like it. Tell me the bank account.”

I tell her the number and she promises me that not even the NSA cannot even find out about our interest in the bank account and if I trust anyone with this it is Abby.
“All done.”

Her body turns towards me like she is waiting for me to say something else or leave. Out of nervousness I start to bite my lip, contemplating if I should ask her about what’s on my mind.  

“Come on, spill it.”

A small groan is all I let out before I finally ask.

“What do you know about Jethro’s ex-wives? And I do not mean Shannon, the other three.”

Her grin widens with glee.

“Okay, okay, forget I asked.”

“No, no, no!”

She grabs my arm to get me to stay and I comply.

“Look, I do not know much, but from what I know they were replacements for Shannon. Not that it worked obviously.”

I nod, feeling slightly better already. We talk a little more and I notice that Abby has a way of calming you down. Not the same sense of calm and peace Gibbs has, but one where you momentarily forget your bad mood because she makes you laugh. Suddenly I realize how much she was a safe place for me the last few weeks. I interrupt her sentence by engulfing her in a hug. After a second of startle, she hugs me back. “Thank you”, I whisper in her ear before letting her go, smile one last time and go back upstairs again. When I walk back into the bullpen, there is a tall, blonde woman in army uniform standing in front of Gibbs’ desk. My steps slow to assess the situation. Gibbs is leaning back in his chair while she is leaning forward. Ziva and Tony are exchanging weird looks, so something has to be weird about this. When I get closer, they notice me and all I see is their eyes widening before Jethro’s eyes jump to mine. Shortly my heart stops but then immediately jumpstarts. The look in his eyes is something I cannot decipher, something I have not seen in his eyes before.
“Lieutenant Mann meet Francesca Morales.”

She turns around to meet my eye and I notice something skeptical in her face that makes the hairs stand in my neck.

“Lieutenant Mann, CID.”

I only nod and smile while shaking her hand. Something is definitely fishy here.

“Lieutenant Mann was just telling us a little something about the calls made from Kavanaugh’s command center to the army.”

I nod while Lieutenant Mann eyes fly between Gibbs and me. Now I am really confused.

“As I was telling Agent Gibbs here, we couldn’t trace the specific caller, but we could find the auction side. It looks like they are auctioning off drugs and weapons. Weapons which only could have come from the army, navy or marines. But nothing is missing. So, someone had to manipulate the records.”

Again, I nod. She did not have to come down here just for that information. She could have called.

“I would like CID to be kept in the loop on this investigation.”

Gibbs laughs and says: “No way. Not until we are a hundred percent sure that the army is involved.”

“I think from your evidence we can be sure.”

“No, we only know they called people in the army. Does not mean they are involved.”

Lieutenant Mann squints at Jethro like she is trying to understand something. Then suddenly it made sense. The weird looks between Ziva and Tony, why she came down here. They used to date. Immediately jealousy spreads in my chest. She is way more his type than I am. Not a red head but still similar. That alone would not be the problem, but she is clearly still interested and Gibbs and I have not talked about our situation. The situation is complicated, difficult and before my life goes back to normal, there really is nothing to discuss. Whatever decision I make, is going to be tainted by my trauma. Still, in my heart, I want him to choose me. The only thing I can do to protect myself right now is cross my arms in front of my chest. It does not help ease my vulnerability, but I feel like it helps cover it up to the outside.

“Anything else, Lieutenant Mann?”

She just shakes her head and leaves. My eyes find Jethro’s again, and he is scanning my face. I just lift one eyebrow waiting for him to say anything.

“McGee, follow the weapons angle. I want to know everything there is about the manufacturing and distribution of them.”

Afterwards he grabs his things and motions for me to follow him. Looks like we are going home.

“Where are you going, boss?”

“Home” is all he says before I follow him to the elevator.

“Nice reunion, Jethro?”

His head spins in my direction as we wait for the elevator to arrive. A little smile dances on his lips and he says: “Not really.”

“Don’t like running into your exes at work?”

“Not particularly, Morales. What about you?”

“Never had the pleasure.”

For some reason, I am getting defensive. I do not really know why but this whole thing annoys me. Maybe it is getting Jethro’s exes thrown in my face the whole day or maybe it is having to wait for more information about my father, but I am annoyed and Gibbs is definitely going to feel it.

Chapter Text

Gibbs

I could literally smell Francesca’s annoyance from a mile away. In a way it amuses me that she is so bothered by Hollis being in the office. Her jealousy is kind of cute. Even though she has nothing to worry about, I do not tell her. I let her stew in her anger for a while excited to see what will happen when she finally explodes. The rest of the way home is spend in silence. Francesca’s brows are furrowed and her arms are crossed in front of her chest the whole way home. Rationally, I know I should care more about what she found out about her father, but I cannot bring myself to do so. All I care about is the passion this anger can ignite. As soon as I close the door behind me, Francesca shoves me against it.

“I am angry right now, but I need to tell you what I found first.”

I grin, which only seems to make her angrier.

“My father is paying the college tuition for the daughter of an old friend of his. I am having Abby secretly monitor the account to see if he transfers money there again. The last time was two months ago, so he was definitely alive then.” I nod trying to put together how she found it. But before I can ask any questions or reassure her that nothing happened to her father in the last two months, she keeps on talking: “Now, you are a horrible, cruel man! Parading your ex in front of me, like some kind of test. What are you hoping to achieve by not warning me she was coming?”

“Nothing, because I did not know she was coming.”

“You still could have warned me.”

“About what?”

She goes silent and narrows her eyes at me. I know she is jealous I just want her to admit it. For a few seconds she stays silent, before she takes a step towards me, so her body is almost touching mine. I am itching to touch her, but I hold back. With a smug grin on her face, she says: “Pretty arrogant for someone who just warned me not to mention fucking other people about 24 hours ago.”

That wipes the smile of my face. She is playing dirty.

“Thought so.”

With a big grin she turns around and walks up the stairs. The time it takes me to exhale one deep breath is all the time I give her before I follow her upstairs. When I get to the bedroom, she is taking off her jewelry not paying any attention to me until I slam the door. Her eyes immediately find mine and she takes a few steps towards me.

“So, are you angry because you are jealous and because I am not saying I was or because I am right?”

“I am not angry, Francesca.”

“Such a bad liar.”

She traces my jaw with her finger distracting me with her touch. Trying to define this moment is not something I could do. It is something between a fight and foreplay or maybe it is both. It is definitely charged with some sort of energy that makes goosebumps erupt on my arms. While I am normally the one taking control, I let her have it for the moment. For one because it is extremely sexy, but also because I like waiting for the right moment to switch the dynamic. I can feel her fingers softly dance over my body like she is trying to decide what to do.

“I think you are a little too smug for my liking.”

I grin again waiting for her to make a move. With a quick pull she reliefs me of my handcuffs and pushes me towards the bed. Still grinning I reach out for her head and pull her in for a kiss. Kissing her is like finally coming up for air after being under water to long. It is like feeling the sun on your face after a long dark winter. And right now, it is like throwing gasoline on the fire that slowly started inside my chest. I am still sitting on the edge of the bed with her standing before me, when I feel her hand slowly dragging down my arm. It is almost too soft to really recognize. What I do recognize though is her suddenly putting the handcuffs on my hand before pulling it two the other one, so my hands are bound behind my back. Immediately she pulls away, grinning like she has won. She probably does not know that I can get out of those pretty easily, but I let her enjoy her victory for now.

I grin when her face comes closer to mine again and she whispers: “Safe word, Jethro?”

I quickly place a kiss on her jaw before she can pull away and say: “Blue.”

Her grin turns to an honest smile for a second before she turns away. I lean back on my hands to watch her take off her clothes behind my back. When she comes back around, she is wearing nothing but her underwear and is spinning on of her knives in her hands. God, she is incredible. My taste in women may be questionable, but Francesca truly is a goddess among men. My dick is straining against my jeans begging me to take him out, but I try to ignore it as best I can.

“You see Jethro”, she leans forward on of her hands resting on my knee. “I think you are incredibly jealous, so teasing me is quite hypocritical, don’t you think?”

Her hair falls loosely around her head and her eyes have that little spark in them that I could see from 10 miles away. The way she leans forward gives me a perfect view of her breast and I am not so shamefully watching them move as she talks. That is when the cold metal of her knife meets my chin, and she slowly lifts up my head to look her in the eye.

“I am trying to have a serious conversation here.”

One of my eyebrows flies up before I can control it.

“Are you?”

“Yes, I am.”

She presses the knife further into my chin so that it is almost painful. But really it just adds to the alure of the whole situation.

“So, do you want me to apologize? To beg?”

I accentuate the last word just to see goosebumps rise over her shoulders and neck.

“Having you on your knees would be nice, but I am afraid you would enjoy that too much.”

And she is probably right. I could eat her out all day, just listening to her moans and feel he cum beneath me. Just the memory is enough to send more blood to my dick. The knife eases away from my face and she begins to unbutton my shirt. When she is done, she slowly pulls one finger over my body until she touches my belt and takes a step back. Just because I can, I let my eyes wander down her body to admire the beauty of it. The strong muscles under her skin, the scars, the curves. Everything just seems so perfectly made for me.

“Jethro, I think you’re drooling.”

I just laugh, because she is not wrong.

“Maybe you could still make yourself useful. Lay back.” I follow her orders and lay flat on my back. My hands are still bound under my hip, but I do not mind. My knife to get out is just in reach. When I look down, I see her climbing on the bed next to me before she swings on leg over my head stradling me. This is going to be fun. Of course, my dick still demands to be touched but for now he must wait. I turn my head to slowly kiss her thigh and watch her head fall in her neck. Slowly I pull my tongue over her wet thong feeling her warmth through the thin material. Her hand pushes her thong to the side allowing me to fully dive into her as she properly sits on my face. Her sweet taste fills my taste buds and intoxicates me. Even if I wanted to, I could not think of anything other than her right now. I play with her clit feeding on her moans. properly ride my face. Her taking control over her pleasure like that is so fucking hot I could cum just from looking at her. Instead, I keep part of my attention on my hands as I slowly undo the cuffs. My hands slip out of them and I take them into my palm while I suck on her clit and watch her touch herself on top of me. Even though I love tasting her, making her cum, I need her to know who is in charge. My lips leave her pussy and I sink my teeth into her soft thigh. A loud moan escapes her and she eases away from my face to slide back on my hips. My breath stops. With her flushed cheeks and ruffled hair, she looks incredibly gorgeous. Before she can say anything, I buck my hips into her and pull one hand out to wrap one side of the handcuffs on her arm. I try to get her other wrist too, but she is standing up to quickly. Now we are just standing in front of each other seizing each other up. We both know the dynamic changed.

“Safe word, Francesca?”

“Blue.”

A grin spreads her lips and before I can say anything else she takes off towards the stairs. Instead of following her immediately, I peel my shirt of my arms and relish the thrill of chasing her. Of capturing her, making her mine. I still have the taste of her on my lips and the sound of her moans in my ears when I take measured steps down the stairs. I can hear her footsteps taking her down to the basement and my grin only widens. For some reason for us the basement is a special place for intimacy and I am not going to stop that now. I let her take her time hiding because it is going to be so much more fun finding her when she has been waiting, anticipating for a while. I want her blood rushing, the same thrill in her veins.

Chapter Text

Francesca

My steps instinctively take me towards the basement. In my head it is the best place to hide, so I step into a dark corner of the room and push myself against the wall. My heart is racing like it is trying to run out of my chest. At the same time anticipation and excitement for what is to come run through my veins. The remnants of riding his face still fog my head making it hard to think straight. Even though nothing is happening I have to smile to myself. I do not think I ever had this much fun while having sex. I do not think I ever felt this free. The other side of the handcuffs is cold where I hold it tight in my hand so it will not give my position away. When I see the light from the open-door change, I hold my breath. My blood rushes through my veins waiting for him to find me. His steps on the wooden stairs sound slow and relaxed like he is taking his sweet time getting to me. Like he wants to make me squirm. It is so dark I cannot see where he is, I can only hear steps getting closer to me until they suddenly stop. There is no sound to let me predict what happens next, which is incredibly thrilling. Before I can think about it too hard his hand suddenly finds my throat and pulls me against his body. His mouth is next to my ear as he whispers: ”Found you.” I smile shortly before his lips slam onto mine in an all-consuming kiss. My mind blanks out as he guides us back towards his boat. I lean into him to get more of him, clawing at him to get him closer and closer. But instead of getting closer to me he takes a few steps back leaving me panting against the boat. I hear a switch change and then the room is illuminated in a soft warm glow. Jethro’s eyes wander over my body as he steps closer again.

“So, you really thought you were in charge, huh?”

His hand starts to play with the handcuffs on my wrist.

“Maybe I still am.”

I bite my lip to stop a grin from escaping but he just laughs.

“Yeah sure.”

He takes my arms and holds them above me against the soft wood. In response I push my chest into him trying to make him lose control. That is all I really want to see. Him completely snapping. I wrap on leg around his hip to grind against his dick, which is straining against his jeans.

“You think it is that easy, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

He positions the handcuffs, so that my arms would be tied to the wooden post of the boat. But before he cuffs my second arm, he waits for approval from me. His eyes search my face again.

“Are you going to get even wetter when I tie you to my boat, hm?”

Of course, I do not want to say yes, but I also want him to do it, so I nod.

“Use your words, Francesca. You want me to handcuff you?”

I bite my lip before I answer: “Yes, boss.”

Me calling him boss might surprise him, but it excites him too. I can tell from the way his eyes seem to darken. I want to tease him for it but before I can form the words my hands are cuffed and he is leaning me further against the curved wood.

His hand gently pulls down my body as he watches me shudder under his touch. I love the way he touches me. I love the tingles he leaves, the fire he ignites. As he traces the seam of my bra, I suppress a moan. He might have me cuffed but I will not make it that easy for him. His hands travel over my body in long soft strokes and I am getting more and more impatient. Still my stubbornness is stronger. When his fingers find my clit again and his teeth scrape across my neck, I can no longer keep the sounds in.

“That’s right, show me how good I make you feel.”

Even though I try to bite my lip muffled moans escape me. Suddenly his hands stop and he hoists me further up so that I have to wrap both legs around his hips for stability. In the same moment one of his hands wrap around my throat while he thrusts into me putting pressure on my clit again.

“Fuck.”

“Oh, we are going to fuck, sweetheart. But first, tell me why you were so angry today?”

I try to shake my head, but his hand keeps me in place while he keeps putting pressure on my clit with his hard dick. His other hand reaches out to slightly pinch my nipple through the soft fabric of the bra, but I still refuse. But when he grinds harder into me, licking across my lips, making me see stars, I am done. I will do whatever he says as long as he does not stop touching me.

“Fuck, I was jealous.”

“Now, was that so hard?”

I shake my head. Every time he wants me to speak his grib lessens on my throat to give me space, but I welcome the warm pressure every time it returns.

“Why were you jealous, love?”

His switch to sweet and loving while he is still holding my throat and grinding into me makes all my insides go weak. There is something about him that just does not let me go.

“Because all your ex’s look so much different than me.”

My voice is quiet and the sudden vulnerability makes me squirm. Suddenly I feel way to exposed to my liking. Especially when he stops moving and just looks at me, like he is trying to find words. My heart hammers in my chest waiting for him to say anything else. To confirm or ease my vulnerability, anything.

“Yeah, well not one of them made me feral enough to chase them through the house, Francesca.”

His hips grind into me with brute force, making me moan.

“Does this feel like I am not attracted to you?”

I slightly shake my head too distracted from the way he feels to form any words or thoughts.

His hand finds its way into my pants and he gently traces one finger through my slit. My head falls back, my eyes close and all I can do is moan.

“So, you see, it does not matter how anybody else looks or looked because right now, I only care how you look and you look fucking perfect, all tied up for me.”

The words and the way his hands feel on my body are enough to send shivers of pleasure running through me. But still, they are not enough to make me cum. I need more friction, more pressure, just more and he knows that. He just likes watching me squirm under him. The hand on my throat pulls me forward and my eyes fly open with the surprise. Jethro pulls my head away from the wood towards him, so that our faces are painfully close again. My shoulders slightly hurt from the stretch, but I do not care. I want to be close to him.

His eyes are piercing mine when he says: ”Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” my voice is no more than a breath but he understands me nonetheless.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, boss.”

A small smile plays on my lips as I watch his pupils dilate. He definitely likes it when I call him that. A sound I never heard him do passes his lips; a growl.

“On your knees.”

My legs leave his warm hips and I feel the uncomfortable loss of his hands on my skin. As soon as my feet hit the floor, he gently pushes me to my knees. My hands are still bound on top of me to the boat but in a way that makes it hotter. Shaking my hair out of my face, I look up at him with big eyes and a grin while licking my lips. His eyes close shortly before they hold mine as he loses his pants and steps towards me. My brain is telling me to break the eye contact and look down, but I stay still. I am not going to give him that. One of his hands slightly caresses my chin before he says: “Open up.”

I do as he says and stick out my tongue before he puts his dick in my mouth and I close my lips around it. The whole time I keep the eye contact watching his face melt in extasy as I slowly take him more and more into my mouth. Eventually I start to swirl and drag my tongue around it and softly sucking. In response his hip jerk forward pressing him completely into my mouth and making me gag. In a twisted way him using me like that or me making him act like this makes me even hornier than I already was. I want him to come undone for me, to lose control and just go absolutely feral. Before I can push him there, he pulls out of my mouth and pulls me up and against the curved beam again. From this angle my back is arched and I can hardly stand on my toes. His hand pulls me head back by the hair to keep me in place while I hear the foil of a condom ripping. Anticipation runs through me as his other hand rips apart my thong. A thousand ideas about what it will feel like again run through me, but it all goes blank when he positions his dick on my slit but does not move. I squirm to get him to move but he does not. His hand is still in my hair holding me and his other one is pushing my hip on the wood. There is no way for me to move.

“Not so tough anymore, are we?”

I cannot answer because all I can think about is how much I need him inside me. How I need him to move, to slowly slide inside me. I need to feel the heat radiating of his body, to hear his shaky breaths and soft moans. I try to move again, but give up panting.

“Come on, baby, use your voice. What do you want? Tell me.”
“Please, fuck me.”

I ignore that my voice is nothing more than a whimper, but what I cannot ignore is the grin he shows me in response.
“I did not hear you, say it again.”

I grind my teeth to keep myself from talking but eventually the need gets too much.

“Fuck, please Jethro, fuck me. I need you.”

“That’s it, your mine.”

Slowly he pushes me down and himself more and more into me.

“You hear me, Francesca? You are mine, completely utterly mine.”

Butterflies swarm through my chest as I nod.

“Good, because there is no one besides you for me. I am all yours. And you are going to take what is yours.”

From that point on all I am is a mess of whimpers and moans. Our skin slap and slip together while he thrusts into me in a punishing rhythm. His hand is still in my hair, his forehead against mine. My legs wrap around his again and his other hand lays on my back arching me of the wood. I do not know how long he fucks me, when his hand leaves my back and his fingers move across my clit in slow circles. Stars fill my vision and he is pushing me closer and closer to an orgasm. What does it are his soft lips on my neck while his tongue glides across it. I feel like I shatter to pieces. My breath stops. My heart beats ferociously in my chest and all this time Jethro still thrusts into me. When I come down and start panting, he calms down and pulls his hand along my inner thigh. His middle finger glides along my scar.

“No one is ever going to hurt you again. If someone ever lays a finger on you again, I will kill them with my bare hands.”

In my post orgasm haze that is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me. His intense stare does not leave me and it dawns on my how serious he is. How he just said that he would risk everything for me. How he would risk his life to avenge me. He just put me on the same level as Shannon, consciously or not. Emotions like I have never felt before swirl around in my chest and all I can do to convey them is lean forward kiss him deeply. He is still deep inside me and the way he kisses me is as intimate as two people can be. Without thinking my hips move, slowly riding him. Sparks fly behind my eyes from the way he is hitting that one spot so deep inside me, I feel like I might cum again.

“So eager for me again.”

I can feel his breath against my lips and it is so damn sexy. My hips still draw circles on him as his hands push down my legs and he turns me around to lay on the wooden beam. A whimper escapes me from the sudden loss of him inside me. I clench down on nothing, so I push my hips backwards to feel him again. If I do not, I might die. My wrists are crossed now and the cuffs are even tighter on the beam than before making it even harder to move. Luckily, I do not have to because in one smooth motion he slides inside of me again. A loud moan, loud enough to alert neighbors, leaves my mouth but I do not even care. I only care about the bliss that is this situation. His whole body engulfs me as he leans forward and begins kissing my shoulder while he pounds into me. My whole body is limp and already melts into him when a familiar hum of my vibrator pierces through the air. Then the vibrator touches my clit, before my mind even comprehends what is happening. The combination of deep thrusts, vibration on my already sensitive clit, warm body contact and his deep moans and mumbled words in my ear is enough to let me cum again in a matter of mere minutes. This time I feel like I am passing out. All I hear is the blood rushing through my ears. Waves and waves of pleasure run through me. My knees give out, but Jethro holds me up still fucking me. I do not know how long he stretches the orgasm, I cannot tell. I just know I want this to last forever. The way his skin feels on mine. The closeness of us. His strong hands on my body. The warmth in my face and the butterflies all over my body. The low moans in my ear and the soft creaking of the wood. But even the best things find an end. Jethro releases one last moan, thrusts into me a few times and then falls forward onto me. The only sound filling the room is our heavy breathing. We stay close like this for a while, just processing what just happened. Ultimately though, Jethro starts to move. A soft kiss on my shoulder and he pulls away from me. My feet are finally planted securely on the ground and I take a second to just breath. When he comes back, he quickly undoes the cuffs and turns me towards him.

“Are you okay?”

I just nod before throwing my arms around him in a big hug. Because I might be okay, but I am also definitely deeply in love with Jethro.

Chapter Text

Gibbs

I think my entire brain chemistry has been altered. I really think there is no way for me to go back to life how it was. Something about the way my chest expands from the emotion running through me, tells me there is no one after this. There is no way anyone else’s touch will ever make me feel all this; no way my heart is mine now. When she unwraps her arms from my body and points her big warm eyes at me, I think my chest is going to explode from emotion. There is nothing that could stop me from claiming her mouth right now. From pressing and holding her so close to me that nothing could fit between us. If it were up to me, we would stay like this forever, but I could already feel the gooseflesh running across her body. Reluctant I pull away and search her face for any discomfort, but all I see is raw emotion and vulnerability. Fuck, I am totally thoroughly fucked.

Waking up without an alarm and Francesca in my arm is like waking up in heaven. The sun is dancing on her skin and again she looks and feels angelic. She is still asleep on my shoulder when I first open my eyes. Her cheek is squished forward with her mouth slightly opened while her arm is draped over me giving me a perfect view of her slightly arched back. The blanket only reaches her lower back and the rest is illuminated by the sun. I close my eyes again just to see if I am dreaming, but for some reason I am not. I really do not know how I deserved to have such a gorgeous, intelligent, brave woman by my side clinging to me in her sleep. I have done so many bad things in my life and somehow, I still got her here. How she got here is definitely less than ideal but right now I am making a promise to myself to keep her by my side. To try everything I can to get her to stay. To keep her by my side. I already lost so many people in my life and I am not ready to lose her too. To lose someone so special. I place a kiss on her shoulder before turning towards her and pulling her closer to me. If I close my eyes now, I might fall asleep and get some more sleep, but I cannot pull my eyes away from her. From the way her skin shines under the sun and the curve of her back. From the bright color of her hair and the relaxed look on her face. I try to commit everything about this to memory, because even though I know I want her to stay, I cannot make her. I cannot force her to stay with me if I remind her too much of her trauma. And as much as I want her to be happy, I am too selfish to want her to be happy with someone else. I want her to be happy with me, by my side. Besides all the emotions there is something else keeping me awake. The way her body is turned into me she has her boobs pressed against me. That combined with the complete and utter beauty that she is has all my blood running straight to my groin again. It is like I am 21 all over again. Just completely different. Sometimes all these emotions feel like a betrayal to Shannon, but everything Shannon’s and Kelly’s deaths did to me lead me straight to Francesca. Every scar that trauma and loss left made me the perfect fit for Francesca. It changed me so thoroughly that I am a totally different person now than I was when Shannon was still alive. So, what me and Francesca have is just completely different, maybe exactly what the changed me needs. I am still deep in thought when Francesca starts to move in my arms. Her eyes are still closed but her face looks more awake and she is turning further into my chest like she is trying to flee from the light.

“Francesca?”

She just shakes her head and pulls me towards her again. I smirk and place a kiss on her head.

“Sleep,” is all the answer I get and I just have to laugh. She is so grumpy cute in the morning. I do not think this is something that would have been acceptable in the marines. But it still is fucking adorable.

“Did you Seargent let you get away with this mood in the marines?”

“Pssht.” Her hand leaves my back and slaps over my mouth. Instead of being mad I just plant little kisses along her palm. She makes a few more non describable sounds before I turn us around, so she is laying under me. For the first time today, she opens her eyes and I see the beautiful shades of brown again. For a second the warmth in them is taking me by surprise. It is like I can never properly remember just how much her gaze affects me. Energy races through my veins when our naked bodies touch and I feel more of her body heat spread to mine.

“Good morning, love.”

A big smile spreads across her face and her soft voice fills my ears.

“Good morning.”

Warmth unfolds in my chest threatening to crack it open. I did not think I could be this happy again but here I am. My elbows are framing her face and I am slowly lowering my face to press my lips to hers. The soft and plumbness of them feels like heaven, it feels like home. We spent the morning tangled up together, turning and kissing in the sheets, appreciating each other’s bodies. The energy is so different from last night. More carefree, less intense and more loving. It feels almost youthful. It also takes us quite a while to get out of bed. By the time we do I do not even feel like I need a coffee and I really do not remember the last time I felt like this. I guess Francesca has that energetic effect on me.  She walks through the kitchen patching together an omelet with her frame hidden underneath my USMC hoodie and wide jogging pants. To stay out of her way I am leaning against the doorframe observing her scurrying around the kitchen. It feels like we have once again fallen into a familiar routine. One a little too domestic and in sync. We eat breakfast together, shower together and then she reads something sitting on the workbench, I am working on my boat. In the evening, we stay on the couch together, I am reading while she is sketching something with her back leaning on my chest. I try to focus on my book, I really do, but watching her delicate but strong hands fly across the page is mesmerizing. It takes me a while to really get what she is drawing. She is drawing me sitting on the bed with my hands tied behind me. It seems like she is drawing it from her perspective, right in the moment she pushed my chin up with her knife. A grin makes its way on my lips, when I realize that she is still thinking about last night. Evidently, it was as memorable and special to her as it was to me. I kiss her neck to distract her, but she just pushes me away.

“Stop, I am not done yet.”

Again, I laugh. Her brow is all furrowed and her tongue is stuck between her teeth in concentration. I guess she is fixated on getting my facial expression exactly right. Like there is a picture in her head that she needs to put on paper before it fades. Everything inside of me screams at me to annoy her more but I secretly want to see exactly how she sees me. What is important to her to highlight and what I look like to her. But watching her makes me just impatient, so I try to go back to my book. It does not work. I have to reread the sentences a thousand times and I still do not seem to comprehend anything. Eventually though she seems pleased with her sketch and shows it to me with a proud smile on her lips.

“Wow, you have a gift for art.”

Her shoulders shrug while redness creeps into her cheeks. I have hold off long enough, so I gently put the paper on the table before taking her face in my hands and kissing her fiercely. My tongue softly touches hers and a light moan escapes her. With a little pull she is sitting on my lap, again. For a second, I am getting a little déjà vu, just that this time there is a curtain in front of the window, shielding us from whoever may be watching. Our lips glide against each other while my hands feel her skin under the hoodie. Goosebumps break out when she takes my head into her hands and roughly scrapes her nails over my skin. In response I bite her lip eliciting a moan from her again. I love that sound. I could hear that sound forever and never get tired of it. When my hands find her breasts and cup them, I feel her hip buck forward over my groin. A small grunt escapes me and I softly twist her nipple in my hand. The way she feels on my hands and the feel of her warmth on top of me is making it hard to think again. My mind is reeling shifting focus from the feel of her hands in my hair, her lips on mine and her grinding on my dick. I am close to losing control again. To just taking her right here. We already had sex today and I still feel like I am starved for her touch. It feels like I can barely breathe until I am inside her again. As I move my hands to her ass to grab it tight, she eases away, stands up and removes her pants entirely.

“Eager little slut, aren’t you?”

She smirks, as I yank her on my lap again. Her warm thighs feel exceptional under my palms and the way her skin gives when I dig my fingers into her thighs is enough to want them around my face again. Francesca grinds herself on me again making me see stars. My hands move on their own because I do not have enough brain power to really think about it. One of the slips beneath her panties finding her already so fucking soaked for me. I groan into her mouth and pull my finger through her slit. Her hip movement changes and she quickly pushes them forward sending spikes of pleasure through my body. Her hands scramble to free me of my shirt and even though I do not want to I pull my hands away from her to get it off me. But as soon as it is off, I touch her again. Eager to make her react to me, to hear those soft moans again. Eager to feel her body heating up and seeing the way her breath picks up. But before I can do all that my phone starts to ring. Francesca pulls away but I just say:”Let it go to voicemail” before I pull her against me again. The feel of her lips is addictive. Apparently, that is all she needed to hear because the kiss becomes more and more feral while she grinds into me. I do not even notice when the phone stops ringing.

“Are you getting yourself off grinding on me, baby?”

She just nods not stopping to move her hips.

“So desperate, aren’t you?”

Her teeth clamp down on my lip and I smirk. My fingers tightly grip her hips helping her grind on me while I taste the skin on her neck. That is when my phone starts to ring again. This has to be important. Francesca stops to move and sighs deeply.

“I am sorry.”

I kiss her cheek before I reach over to grab my phone. McGee is calling.

“McGee this better be the fucking most important phone call of your life.”

My voice is rougher than it needs to be, but I really hate the interruption, and all the energy is still pent up.

“I’m sorry boss, but we found Francesca’s father.”

Chapter Text

Thirty-seven

Francesca

Gibbs is barking at McGee while I smirk and grind into him again. My lips find his neck until I hear McGee’s word through the phone.
“We found Francesca’s father.”

My heart stills. Time stands still. All my motion stops. I do not even hear his answer. All I hear is the blood rushing through my ears. Nothing else. I do not even notice Jethro’s hands on my shoulders as he slowly pushes me back. His eyes search my face for anything but I cannot even focus on anything.

“We got to go. Do you want to come?”

There are no thoughts running through my head so I just nod. My body moves on instinct alone, but every move is robotic. I feel like I only get ready and out the door with Jethro’s help. The whole ride to the car feels like I am a at the brink of a panic attack. I would like to say that my thoughts are running through my head but there is just a big void. Every thought I try to have, is being pulled away. Like I cannot form words, not even in my head. Jethro’s eyes keep flying over to me but I do not even notice. I am too busy being paralyzed by the situation. There are no feelings just an overwhelming abyss. Maybe I might even black out. I do not even know. It takes us a while until we finally stop. Just in that moment all my emotions slam into me, robbing me of air to breathe. Fear is the most prominent thing pushing me into the seat of the car. I know that if I step out now, my life will change. It can be in a good way. I could get my dad back into my life. But I could also gain him to lose him again. Next to that, he left during the worst time of my life. He could have stayed. He could have fought. But he did not. He left me when I was already shattered, let me grief him while I was traumatized and grieving myself still. My heart races in my chest like it tries to escape like I am wanting to escape the situation.

“Do you want to get him or should I?”

Jethro’s voice cuts through my daze. My head slowly turns towards him and I am swallowing the crater sized lump in my throat.

“I’m going to do it.”

“You do not have to.”

“No, I do.”

Without another word I force myself to stand up and get out. As I take my steps towards the memorial. I see McGee standing next to my dad in front of the memorial. Even with his back turned towards me I recognize him. The way he stands and holds himself is just too memorable. I can hear Tim talking but I do not register what he says. My steps are quiet and when I am a few steps behind them I say: ”Hello dad.”

His shoulders tense and his back straightens. Inside I try to prepare myself to see his face again. For all those feelings to get even stronger. The hammering of my heart does not stop and I barely notice Tim stepping away. Slowly my father turns around and the face I have not seen in 15 years, but one I could still identify in a heartbeat. The lines in his face have deepened, his hair is ashier, but it is still him. It is still the man who held me when I was scared of the future. The man who got me through my heartbreak. The man I missed every time he was deployed. The memories of him coming back home, of all the joy; the memories of all the fights I had with him when I was a teenager; the memories of his funeral I barely got through; the memories of him buying me all the groceries I mentioned once; all those memories come rushing back the second his eyes lock on mine. The warm dark brown even in the dark feel like a warm hug. Surprise is so apparent in them I almost run away.

“Francesca.”

His voice is nothing more than a whisper, but it goes through me like a scream. I almost forgot what his voice sounds like. Goosebumps erupt on my skin and I shudder. My heart breaks again. All those memories spill into my chest. The pain of losing him and the joy of having such a gentle loving parent. My breath picks up and I get dizzy. But now is not the time to get overwhelmed.

“We need to go, I’ll explain later. When you are safe.”

I already take a step back when he stumbles towards me.

“Francesca, I can explain-“

“Not now.”

I do not look back, I just flee back to Jethro. To give up some of the responsibilities. So I can breathe again. I hear my father’s steps behind me getting slower when I walk towards Jethro. I turn around again and say: ”You need to trust me on this. You owe me that much.”

Anger shines through and the look on my father’s face tells me he barely knows me right now. But that is fine. He does not. He abandoned me. Maybe for good reason but there would have been other options. Gibbs steps forward and talks to my father but I just step inside the car and try to breathe. Tears swell in my eyes, but I do not let them spill. I keep my eyes closed when the two of them step inside and Gibbs starts driving. The silence is uncomfortable, and I could almost slice the tension with a knife. The hurricane of fear, anger, relief whirls through me and it takes all my strength to keep still. To not fall apart. Jethro definitely notices it. I feel his eyes shift to me again and again. I do not even have to open my eyes to know he is worried; I already know. He was worried when we drove here. He was worried when I stepped out. Maybe he itches to touch me as much as I want to touch him right now. Just for the comfort of not being alone in this. Of him being my anchor. But he needs to present himself as the lead agent right now and springing this whole relationship on my father really would not help him trust NCIS. But right now, I am alone in this mess of emotions. In a way I do not even recognize the man sitting in the backseat. I know he is my dad. I know I love him. But my anger changes my perception of him. I try not to give into it. I try to understand, in a way I do. But inside me there is still that 20-year-old girl who has just been raped. A girl who is nothing, but broken pieces held together by trauma. This girl needed him and then he left. He dropped the grief on top of everything that was already wrecking me. It is a miracle I even survived this. With no help from him. I know, rationally, that he tried to protect me. But that protection almost cost me my life. I really try to see all those facets, but right now I do not have the strength and capacity to hold onto the understanding. All I feel is pain. No relief that he is not dead, that I can see him again for the first time. I cannot even grasp that. When we get to NCIS, I still do not say a word. Gibbs explains everything, but I stay silent. Even when we get to the bullpen with all eyes on me, I stay silent. Even when my mother runs towards him with tears in her eyes and the share the most gut-wrenching hug, I have ever witnessed I stay silent. It is like all words have left me. I am happy for my mum, I really am, but I cannot get myself to feel her relief. When her eyes fly over to me, I have had enough. I stumble backwards and flee to the elevator. I know people notice it, but I do not care. I just press the button to the basement and leave. The morgue seems fitting. When the elevator doors close and I am finally alone, the tears start to fall and cannot stop. The ache grows in my chest until loud sobs escape me. Until the sobs are all my source for oxygen. My steps take me into the morgue and I cower behind an autopsy table succumbing to the pain. A tidal wave of grief overwhelms me breaking me apart from the inside. I do not even know why. I do not have to grief anymore.  I did not lose him. But still I grief.  I sob. I panic. I cry. Until I feel two arms wrap around me. Through the fog of tears I see black steel toed boot on the floor next to me. The arms pull me towards a warm chest and I feel hands slowly caressing the back of my head. The tears do not stop, the shaking does not stop. But I can breathe better. My hands curl around her arms and I cling to her. Time ticks by without me noticing and Abby holds me every second of it. She does not even talk. Because there are no words that could help right now. If I am being honest, it feels like the weight of the last weeks is coming down on me. My heart hurts, my scars hurt, everything hurts. If I could, I would fall asleep for a couple of days. Every little thing in me is exhausted. Like I have run a thousand marathons without a break. I need so much, but I cannot have any of it.

Abby stays with me even when I stop crying. When all the emotions turn to nothing, to the unending void again, she stays. We do not talk. She just sits next to me and occasionally holds me when I start shaking. In this moment I cannot fathom or even voice how thankful I am for her. For the support she gives me. After a to me unknown time, the doors to the morgue start to open again. Abby turns around but I do not have to. From the way my neck tingles I already know who it is, but I do not look up. I fear that when I look up into his sky-blue eyes that I will start crying again. Abby presses a kiss to my temple before standing up. The cold replaces the places our bodies touched but it does not take long for Jethro to take her place. Without words his arms pull me in and I crawl into the safety of his arms. It is like sun is finally shining into my void. It is still there, but it is less dark, more bearable. It is finally breathing deeply. His lips stay on my forehead even after he kisses me like he does not want to let me go either. Like he does not know how to help. Like he is desperate to help.

“Your parents are set up in a new safe house together. We did not document it yet, because your father is worried about the trail. He wanted you to stay with them too.”

My body tenses. There is no way I am ready for that.

“I said you are safer somewhere else.”

The corners of my mouth softly pull up for the first time in hours.

“Thank you.”

My voice is hoarse and small, but I do not care. Both of his hands grab my face and pulls it towards him. I just let him. Our faces are so close again and our eyes clash. The intensity in them almost takes me back.
“I am not letting you go, Francesca.”

There is a finality in his words, no room for discussion. In response I push my lips onto his in a soft but strong kiss. There are no words that could have described my emotions better than this kiss can.