"…You're hiding from me now, There's something in the way that you're talking. Words don't sound right, But I hear them all moving inside you. Go now, I'll be waiting when you call. And whenever I fall at your feet, You let your tears rain down on me, Whenever I touch your slow turning pain,

The finger of blame has turned upon itself, And I'm more than willing to offer myself, Do you want my presence or need my help? Who knows where that might lead? I fall…. at your feet."

-x-x-x-

Gibbs hadn't thought his life could get any worse. He'd been wrong.

His childhood was an endless exercise in disappointment and loneliness. He'd never had the comfort or companionship of siblings. And his family moved so often because of his father's naval career that making friends and forming attachments became increasingly difficult. He lost his mother at an early age and never quite connected with his stern and unforgiving old man.

While serving his country in the Marine Corp, he witnessed firsthand the tragedy and futility of war. He saw friends and enemies obliterated before his eyes. He saw children without homes and old women without hope. He saw his own ideas of the world fade away in harsh contrast to the reality of injustice and death.

He'd lost a loving wife, Shannon and a precious daughter, Kelly in harrowing circumstances. Somehow – he's not sure how -- he'd married three other women who he loved in his own way, but who he came to pity and despise for their folly in falling for him. He always wanted children – even after Kelly's unnatural death – but that deeply held and much longed for dream never came true for him again.

It was even less likely now.

But he'd really thought that Life had no more surprises – or painful shocks – left in store for him. After his last divorce, he'd gradually eased into a comfortable, if misanthropic, rut with his life – or lack thereof.

He'd thought the Universe had done it's worst to him. They'd squared off many a time, and while he usually came out the worse for wear, he constantly emerged alive and kicking, in defiance of all natural, logical laws.

In his fifty-one years, he'd been blown up, beaten up, shot at, run over, captured, stabbed and sunk. He had the scars to prove it. He was almost used to it, particularly in his line of work. He almost looked on the wounds as badges of honor.

With each one, he got stronger, sharper, wiser. He'd gotten used to being a survivor. He'd become accustomed to scraping through every dangerous situation that arose.

Then, early one gray fall morning, he'd woken up in a hospital bed, bleary and disoriented -- and he couldn't feel his legs. From the waist down, he couldn't feel a thing.

Many months later, he still can't remember the day that he incurred the injury to his spine. He has vague recollections of leaving the office with his team and of maneuvering the car through rush hour. For some reason, he recalls that Kate was wearing a blue shirt when she grabbed his arm and shrieked that he would kill them all if he didn't slow down.

He didn't. He sped up.

He was too focused on the case, too close to revenge. He'd been reckless and thoughtless. He'd put his entire team at risk. He could've killed them all. It was a miracle that he didn't.

The crash wasn't actually his fault. But if he hadn't been driving at such speed, he might've seen the drunk driver who came zooming out of nowhere and caused a five-car pile up. If he hadn't been so fixated upon the road ahead, he might've had time to turn the wheel and stop him from plowing into the driver's side of the vehicle.

At least, that's what they all tell him happened. He can't recall a thing past Kate's shirt and his own target fixation. When he finally awoke from the coma, all his doctors told him he was lucky to be alive. They all told him repeatedly that he should be thankful not to be a vegetable for the rest of his life.

His mind is as sharp as it ever was. He can speak, see, think and remember. He can even shoot. He has perfect use of his upper body. He just can't walk.

From the waist down, he is nothing, he does nothing, he feels absolutely nothing. And he almost wishes that inescapable deadness extended all over his wasted frame.

At first, they gave him painkillers and plenty of them. He became very used to the feeling of hazy neutrality. He craved it; he craved more and more of it. But soon, they even took away that comfortable nothingness – which was fine, because a bottle of scotch by his bed did just as well.

From the outset, he'd stubbornly refused all therapy – physical or emotional. He didn't care what anyone said. His friends, his colleagues, his doctors, even the nurses all had a go at trying to convince him to participate in his own healing.

But the chances of him ever walking again were slim. The chances of him returning to work or living his old life, he was told by the experts, were practically zero.

He'd just wanted out of that damned hospital before he expired there. He needed somewhere that he could breathe. Somewhere where he could think clearly, try to comprehend what had happened.

His next-door neighbors helped him move everything he needed downstairs. He set up his bedroom in his old, dusty study and went about creating his new, hermitic existence of depression and isolation. The hospital kept sending him nurses but he scared them all away within no time at all. After a while, he just stopped answering the door or picking up the phone or even opening his mail. He didn't see the point. Life seemed easier that way.

In the past few months, he'd become more and more reclusive. The only person he saw was Ducky who talked at him until he dully agreed to visit the outpatient clinic at least once a week. He would come around every Thursday, good-humoredly chiding him for drinking too much as he drove him to his physiotherapy.

Not that it seemed to do him much good.

Despite the overly perky optimism of Chelsea, who reminded him more of a high school cheerleader than a qualified nurse, half his body just didn't seem to have the will to live anymore. And he really couldn't blame it for that decision.

Sitting on the landing at the top of his basement stairs, Gibbs uncorks the dusty bottle in his lap and takes a large sip of old scotch. He blinks with bloodshot eyes at what used to be his one solace in life, wheezing as the hard liquor burns its way down his throat and descends into the guts of his half-deceased carcass.

Frustrated and furious, he contemplates the impossibly steep flight of stairs that separates him from the only thing to ever give him any sense of relief in recent years. If he could just reach out and touch his boat, maybe he wouldn't have to drink so much tonight. If he could just feel the soft grain of the wood beneath his palm; if he could just reignite the pride of making something, fixing something fine and strong with his own hands, he might have something to wake up for tomorrow.

But it's no use.

Restopping the bottle, he lays it back in his lap. His boat might just as well be in China as down those sixteen unyielding steps. He's counted them. At least once a day, he sits there and counts them, trying in vain to devise a plan to get down there; to once more lie, eyes closed, hands behind his head, under the sheltering heft of his unfinished creation. But then there's always the problem of getting back up again.

Gibbs drops his hands back to each side of his wheelchair and slowly turns towards the door. He pushes himself into the kitchen and flicks off the light to the basement. Then, faltering once-- and twice -- he grabs the jumble of keys from the nearby hook and yanks the door shut, locking the basement door securely.

He's about to pull the key off the keychain and throw it away somewhere when he hears the phone ring in the other room. He never picks it up anymore but he wheels into the darkened living room, sitting in the threshold as he listens to the incoming message.

"Hi, Gibbs," comes a familiar and missed voice. She pauses: "Don't want to bother you," she continues after a short moment, her voice soft as she tries to sound casual: "but… well, there's a case that's got us all stumped." He can almost hear her roll her eyes slightly and smile at him: "We could really use your help. So….call me." There's a tiny silence before she mutters: "Bye," and hangs up.

He moves closer to the machine, setting aside the bottle of scotch and the handful of keys. Slowly, he reaches out in the darkness and hits the glowing play button. Her voice cuts through the permanent quiet again; that voice which brings back so many memories.

There's at least one memory he'd like to forget altogether. She'd been there the first time he'd awoken after the crash, with her left arm in a sling and her face marred with cuts. She'd been so happy to see him wake and he hadn't even told her how sorry he was.

"…Bye," says Kate's quiet voice and he presses the button again: "…Hi, Gibbs…"

She sounds just like she always did and he smiles a little. It's good to know something hasn't changed, especially her. His small smile is enough to make him pick up the phone and dial her number. He rings twice but she doesn't answer. He's about to return to his scotch and self-pity when he decides to try her at work instead.

She picks up on the first ring: "Agent Todd."

For a moment he doesn't respond. He can't. He sits there, holding the phone to his ear, with a lump in his throat and a strange prickling in the corners of his eyes.

"You called," he finally croaks into the handset.

"Gibbs," she breathes, surprised and pleased.

"At your service," he shrugs, leaning back in his chair.

"It's good to hear your voice," she offers warmly and he imagines her sitting at her desk in the lamp lit squad room, poring over her work as she sips sweet coffee.

He clears his throat and hesitates before replying hoarsely: "Yours too."

"Boy!" she sighs nervously, a little laughter beneath her tone: "Do I have a case for you."

"Oka-ay," he replies slowly: "Lay it on me."

From his desk, Gibbs can see Kate talking with the Director on the upper landing outside MTAC. He watches the way she tips her chin up a little and unconsciously stands taller as she reports to the older man. Director Morrow asks the occasional question, nodding attentively when she speaks, her manner measured and confident.

"Well done, Agent Todd," he smiles as Kate finishes her account of one of the toughest cases in recent NCIS history.

"Thank you Sir," Kate nods, returning the smile then turning to head down the stairs.

Gibbs redirects his gaze back to the file on his desk. It had been an easy, if unexpected decision, to let Kate take control of his team after his incapacitation. They'd all sustained injuries in the crash, but once Tony, McGee and Kate were cleared to return to full duty, Director Morrow had asked his opinion and he'd nominated Agent Todd as his temporary deputy.

While DiNozzo was technically the more senior agent, Gibbs knew that Kate was the more focused, more dependable, more levelheaded of the two. And that's what his people needed right now.

From what his had doctors said, it wasn't at all clear if or when he might recover, or whether, in fact, he'd ever be able to return to regular work. But his team was the most savvy and experienced in the field. He was convinced they'd pull together and handle everything without him until they all knew either way, what his future might hold.

Each time Ducky visited, Gibbs received thorough reports on his team's progress from his talkative friend who spared no detail. Apparently, Tony had sulked for a few weeks and challenged her at every turn. But Kate had flourished in her new role, proving her mettle again and again.

She still managed to bake cookies and muffins and bring them in for those late afternoon munchies. She never forgot to bring Abby her daily Caf-Pow – although she did attempt to convert her to apple juice instead. Ducky told him that Kate always asked the most astute questions, she always invented the most effective solutions and she was, without fail, always the last to leave the office at night.

And she constantly asked after her old boss whenever she and Ducky had a moment alone.

Gibbs is not certain whether Kate actually needed his help on this case or whether everyone is in on some secret scheme to look after him, get him out of his house and give him something to do. He doesn't like feeling looked after, worried over.

But he must admit he has enjoyed being back in the company of his quick-witted co-workers. He finds their chatter and their verve vitalizing. And while he remains behind his desk all day, unable to follow them out into the field, the atmosphere around the bustling office is almost enough to make him forget his sorry state.

Even from a permanent position behind his desk, he's discovered with this last case that he could make a worthy contribution. He'd forgotten what satisfaction he gleaned from completing a complex case and he was quietly proud, both individually and collectively, of the agents he'd taken such pains to mould into the best investigators they could possibly be.

He looks up as his most prized pupil rounds the corner, heading for her desk. Her stride is poised and sure but tired. Her lips curve up a little at each edge, her expression seemingly preoccupied with the past fortnight's exhausting events.

"You did good," Gibbs murmurs lowly from his desk.

"Excuse me?" she asks, stopping in her tracks and turning towards him.

Gibbs leans back in his wheelchair, one hand curling against his chin as he examines her. "Tough case," he admits with a little nod: "You did good."

Kate smiles and moves closer, standing in front of his desk. "Well…" she sighs quietly: "I couldn't have done it without your help."

Gibbs tips his head to one side in dubious response. "Yeah, you could," he counters decidedly.

"I know," Kate admits after a pause, her smile widening. She ducks her head, her voice becoming fainter: "But I couldn't have done it… as well," she shrugs and lifts her head, looking him in the eye as she finishes softly: "…without you."

"You're welcome," Gibbs rumbles, removing his gaze from her face, washed with soft light from his desk lamp.

He lowers his head, his eyes returning to the file in front of him. But Kate doesn't move from his desk. She shifts on her feet and after a short silence, speaks impulsively.

"Gibbs?" she leans down, planting her hands on his desk and peering at him: "Why don't you let me take you out to dinner?"

Gibbs looks up at her again, eyebrows raised. "What for?" he grunts, stumped.

Kate smiles and shakes her head slightly: "I don't know. To say thank you," she urges, her tone light and amused.

He wags his head and fumbles: "I… I don't--"

"Come on, Gibbs," she wheedles, grinning gently: "Say yes…"

Gibbs vacillates as he stares up at her, her expression full of gratitude and hope. He misses the way he used to tower over his beautiful protege, the way she'd let him lean down into her personal space so that their faces were mere inches apart, so that his eyes could rake over her defiant features and flashing eyes.

Secretively, he misses the strange spark of attraction that used to hide in her eyes beneath curiosity and candor and challenge. Occasionally, he wonders if she still sees the corresponding flash in his eyes -- or whether she'd really never noticed what he knew he hid so well.

From the very beginning, this young woman had aroused in him a tender admiration and mysterious excitement. He'd never encouraged it – but he had enjoyed it. And he misses it now.

Gratitude is probably the most he can hope for from Caitlin Todd these days. Now when she looks at him, her eyes exhibit respect, concern and, at times, a quiet curiosity. Which is better than the looks of pity and discomfiture he receives from the world outside this office.

But whatever slim possibility existed for him and his Kate before the accident that changed his life, he knows has now been entirely shattered. The odds against them are astronomical. So, when he's around her, what he misses most of all is that fragile sense of possibility, the titillating potential which used to sit so quietly in one corner of his terrified heart.

As he looks up into her expectant face, it's that weary longing that provokes him to choose not to once again go home to his dark house and infinite bottles of booze, but instead, to accept her professional gratitude and her impromptu invitation to dinner, without much persuasion at all.

-x-x-x-

He doesn't let her help him out of the car or push his chair. He prefers to do it all by himself, manage on his own. He's used to it by now. He even manages to open the door for her when they reach the busy pizzeria. He feels a little ridiculous accompanying her into the bright and busy café. He's a rather pathetic excuse of a date.

Kate walks in ahead of him, striking in her pinstriped suit and red top. She doesn't notice the looks of admiration she garners from a few men who can't help but notice her entrance. But he does.

There are people everywhere-- waiters and waitresses, delivery drivers and customers. Kate slips easily through the throng, heading for a quieter area while he struggles to maneuver his chair through the chaos and the people, some of whom won't move out of the way for him.

A friendly waiter steps in to help, shooing people out of the way and leading him and Kate to a secluded corner table, sheltered by plastic rose bushes. Kate smoothes her palms over the back of her skirt as she takes her seat, watching quietly as the waiter removes the chair opposite so that Gibbs can park himself at the small table.

The young man, dressed sloppily and exuding ease, introduces himself as Colin and proceeds to rattle off their current specials. Kate makes yummy sounds and asks about the house red, placing her chin in her hand as she peeps up at him. Colin seems to take this as encouragement, giving Kate a little wink and remarking that the red wine is young and robust, just like him.

"Too bad," murmurs Kate, fluttering her lashes teasingly: "I prefer something aged and subtle."

Colin glances at Gibbs, tucking his pencil behind his ear and grinning widely: "I'll be back to take your order in a few minutes."

Gibbs watches Kate watch him go, then comments gruffly: "Want me to leave you two alone?"

Kate looks at him questioningly: "What do you mean?"

Gibbs spreads his palms and shrugs: "I don't want to cramp your style here."

"Gibbs!" she huffs, a little embarrassed: "That was just – I was not --!" Her cheeks turn slightly pink and she glances over his shoulder, fumbling emphatically: "He's just a kid."

Gibbs turns and looks behind him to where Colin and a few of his work mates are ogling Kate from behind the coffee machine. He shoots her a devastating smile and Kate bows her head, chuckling softly.

"You think I can't tell," Gibbs murmurs, his eyes roving over her scrupulously: "when a man finds a woman attractive?"

Kate shakes her head and meets his probing gaze, her hazel eyes dancing with mirth but steady with conviction. "He's not my type," she tells him softly after a moment.

He holds her gaze, demanding lowly: "What is your type?"

He sees her glance past him to their waiter again. "Well, older, for one," she replies drolly.

Gibbs raises his eyebrows, resting his hands on the table and knotting his fingers together tightly.

Kate continues with less conviction: "And anyway…" she murmurs, dropping his gaze and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear: "I'm happy just concentrating on work right now."

Gibbs looks at his hands and sighs soberly: "You miss out on a lot of life that way, Kate."

She leans across the table towards him, her mouth curving up into a sly smile: "You mean I'll miss out on dating much younger Italian men with too much personality for their own good and only one thing on their minds?"

Gibbs can't help a rueful half-smirk. "That's what some women want," he mutters vaguely.

"Well, right now, Gibbs," she responds airily: "all this woman wants is a very large, red wine and to share a pizza with you. Okay?"

She puts out a hand and lays it over his in what is supposed to be a friendly gesture. He jolts slightly, not expecting the contact, and withdraws his hand before he knows what he's doing. Kate immediately looks contrite and embarrassed again. She clears her throat and picks up the menu.

"So…. how do you feel," she muses lightly: "about mushrooms?"

He runs his other hand over the one she touched, attempting to disperse the tingle she left behind. "Mushrooms?" he repeats, uncertainly.

"On your pizza?" Kate prompts, flicking her eyes between his face and the menu.

"Uhhh, pizza…." he mulls absently.

He glances about them as Colin seats another couple one table down from them. They are dressed smartly in matching blacks. The woman reaches across casually and dusts some lint from the man's jacket. The man picks up her hand and kisses it.

"Earth to Gibbs…?" Kate mutters, leaning forward and poking his arm.

"Er…" he mumbles, snapping his head back to face her: "I'm not that hungry."

"Oh," she replies, lowering the menu: "Well--"

"Actually, Kate," he starts hesitantly, glaring at the linen tablecloth and hating himself already: "….I think I'm gonna go."

"What?" she breathes anxiously: "Why?"

He starts to pull back from the table, still not meeting her eyes. "I've got work to do," he lies, falling back onto old, pathetic excuses.

"Well, we can order something to go," Kate insists, shifting in her seat: "take it back to the office."

"Everything alright here?" Colin asks jauntily, arriving back their table with his smile and his notepad.

"No. I've gotta go," Gibbs grumbles, quickly moving past the boy and away from Kate.

"Gibbs--" she calls after him, her voice desperate and confused: "Don't go-- I--"

He looks back briefly to see her standing at the table, her brow creased with concern and her eyes swimming with hurt. Colin looks back and forth between them as neither speaks for a short, tense moment.

"See ya tomorrow, Kate," he mumbles quietly. Then he turns and leaves her there, slowly making his way through the boisterous crowd and out onto the dark, quiet street.

Gibbs lies alone in his bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to will himself to sleep. He glances at the clock again to find only five minutes have passed since he last checked. He is already considering not going into work tomorrow. He's gonna look like shit. Not that it matters. He's gonna feel like shit -- however many coffees he downs.

But then, he deserves to feel like shit -- after what he did to Kate.

She's the real reason he doesn't want to face the office tomorrow. She brings out his inner coward like no other person he's ever known. What was it about that woman that made him feel like he only had half the answers, half the guts, half a life?

He'd never missed a day of work in his life. Apart from when he was in a coma, but that didn't count. Even through all his divorces, he never missed a single workday. Work was his therapy, his release and escape. But now, he couldn't face his work without facing his problem.

And his problem was Caitlin Todd. It always had been. But, over the years they'd worked together, he'd kept it pretty much to himself and relatively in check.

Until one night, not so long ago, when he'd had just a little too much to drink.

Before the accident, he didn't drink very often. But when he did, he tended to overdo things a little. And he hadn't overdone things like that in a long, long time.

He wasn't drinking because of his sad life, or lost wives, or the sometimes appalling things he saw in his work. He was drinking because of her. Because of his beautiful and bright colleague who always remained one step too far out of his reach.

So it was really no surprise at all that he ended up at her door.

He closes his eyes in the darkness, wishing to block out the memory of what he'd done, what he'd said that disastrous night. It was about a week before the crash and he hasn't thought of it since. But when she touched his hand tonight in that restaurant, it seemed to dimly reenter his awareness, and he couldn't get away from her fast enough.

He's lain awake, going over every detail that he can recall from that night and trying to concoct in his mind some explanation for his behavior, other than sheer drunkenness and loneliness. But nothing will appease his raging conscience.

Nor can anything override the surreal memory he now holds of clasping Kate Todd in a sloppy embrace, of the smell of her skin when he kissed her -- or of the look she gave him when she quietly but firmly asked him to leave.

-x-x-x-

Gibbs rested his head against the cool, solid wood of Kate's front door as he waited for her to answer his persistent knocks. His head was swimming and he couldn't quite stand straight without swaying in his boots. The door gave him some semblance of balance. Until it opened.

Jerking his head upright, he blinked at her through half-shuttered eyes. He let out a long sigh, his lazy gaze running over her as she stood before him in shimmery silk pajamas, little pale blue shorts with a matching buttoned top.

Gorgeous. Sexy. Sweet. All the things he knew Katie Todd was secretly underneath her conservative attire and professional attitude.

He could stand there and look at her all night. He could spend hours just imagining what she might feel like through that thin, crisp material. His body leaned towards her, falling into her space and he realized he wasn't so sure about the whole standing part. It seemed to be much harder than he remembered.

"Whoa!" Kate muttered, catching him with both hands braced against his chest before they collided and he knocked her to the floor. She pushed him back against the open door and his head flopped back on the wood with a dull thud.

"I was in the neighborhood," he mumbled drunkenly, by way of an explanation.

"Uh huh," Kate returned dryly, still holding him upright: "At a bar, in the neighborhood?"

"Maybe," he mused noncommittally.

"You better come in," she sighed, stepping away so that he had no choice but to stand on his own two feet.

His knees buckled slightly underneath him before he managed to right himself. He took one step inside and then another, feeling his dizziness dissipate a little in the calm serenity of Kate's clean and cozy space. She closed the door behind him and then headed for the kitchen. He followed obediently, not looking at where he was going, just intently focused on that pretty blue silk and the way it moved.

"Want some coffee?" she asked, stopping in her tracks when they reached the kitchen.

His reflexes weren't working too well so he ran right into her from behind. And then for some reason, he didn't apologize or take a step back.

"Coffee's good," he murmured lowly, breathing in the scent of her hair as his hands twitched at his sides.

Kate turned to look up at him, standing so close and looking so irresistible. Her brown eyes peered up at him questioningly, her lips pursed slightly. With no makeup on, he could see the freckles that sprinkled across her cheeks and without heels, he towered over her more than usual, making her appear smaller and even younger.

Kate patted his chest lightly and murmured, partially to herself: "I think we'll make that a very strong coffee. Take a seat."

He gratefully slumped into the chair she pointed to, watching her move about her small kitchen and rise onto her toes to pull out a mug for him from the cupboard. She glanced side-on at him as she readied the coffee and he quickly turned away. Her laptop was set up on the table and next to it a few notes had been neatly taken on a notepad.

"Watcha lookin' at?" he asked blearily, squinting at a picture on the screen of a sun-drenched beach.

"Oh, daydreaming," Kate replied, turning and leaning against the counter as the coffee began to percolate: "about vacations."

His eyes took another quick trip down her slim, shapely legs. Kate would look very nice in a bikini with a sultry tan, he thought -- then considered that he really had to rethink his definition of ‘nice'. When his gaze returned to her face, he could see that his eyes had not been as subtle as he'd hoped. Kate crossed her arms and looked at the floor, before carefully pulling up a seat next to him.

"Where you goin'?" he mumbled, clearing his throat and returning his attention to the monitor.

"I was looking at…." she turned the computer towards her and scrolled upwards to a different picture: "hmm...Barbados. Ever been there?"

Gibbs grumbled low in his throat and muttered: "Second honeymoon."

"Oh," nodded Kate, then clicked onto another site: "What about Bora Bora?"

She shifted a little closer to him and positioned the laptop between them so that he could see the advertised image of Bora Bora on the screen. He watched her face from the corner of his eye, attempting this time to be a little more discreet in his appraisal. Kate leaned in close and scrolled down to a picture of a gorgeous model standing barely clad beneath a stunning waterfall.

"Get your paperwork in quick," he slurred, glancing between her face and the woman on screen: "and in two weeks, that could be you." He grinned slightly at the enticing image in his mind: "Standing under that waterfall."

Kate smiled and turned to face him, remarking dryly: "I don't have her tan."

"No," he sighed lazily, his eyes moving down to caress her figure again, or what he could see of it. "You're… very…" he hummed as he picked up her hand and slowly turned it over, his gaze climbing up the tender underside of her arm where her flesh looked pale and so soft: "fair…" he finished in a barely audible voice.

As he grasped her wrist, he put out his other hand and ran two fingers up her inner arm, watching their progress with intense interest. He was delighted and stunned to find she was really as soft to the touch as he'd always imagined. Kate squirmed uncomfortably beneath his touch and slowly retracted her arm from his grasp.

"And you're very drunk, Gibbs," she told him quietly, with more than a little reproof in her tone.

He nodded drowsily, unable to dispute the fact, even if he wanted to. "Yes, I am," he mumbled as his vision swayed slightly and the burning in his eye-sockets became too much. "Very drunk…" he agreed feebly as his head dropped forward and onto her shoulder.

He groaned in relief and let his eyes close over, nuzzling against her perfumy silk. To his utmost relief, Kate didn't push him away. She let him rest there for a moment, leaning into her smaller body and breathing deeply. And after a moment, she raised a hand and tentatively smoothed it over his head. He groaned again, low and appreciative, at the feel of the exquisitely intimate caress.

Kate stopped for a second, then carefully repeated the gesture. He shifted against her, pressing closer and burrowing his nose into her neck. She smelled like vanilla and spices. He had enough presence of mind to keep his hands to himself, knowing that if he allowed himself one touch, he'd never be able to stop himself from demanding more.

"Gibbs…?" Kate murmured after a long moment of him breathing against her skin.

"Kate," he sighed faintly in return.

She stroked his hair again: "What's the matter?"

He drew in a deep breath and then released it, capturing her sweet scent in his lungs. He didn't want to talk. He didn't like to talk; he was no good at it. No matter how many times he tried, he just couldn't seem to get the sentences out of his mouth, even if he knew what he wanted to say.

And he had no earthly idea what he wanted to tell Kate Todd, how to explain to this gorgeous, young girl what her sad, old boss had always wanted. As soon as he tried, he knew that this heavenly moment would die. And all he wanted right now was to stay completely still, with his head on her shoulder and her hand in his hair.

"Gibbs?" Kate prompted, lifting his heavy head off her shoulder and looking him in the eye.

Gibbs' head lolled reluctantly in her hands and his gaze dropped to trace her lips as she spoke to him, her face full of concern and care.

"You can tell me anything," she assured him softly, gazing up into his creased face: "I promise. Anything you want."

"Anything I want…?" he repeated weakly.

Kate nodded, her eyes searching his: "Of course."

His eyes closed over again and he raised one hand to cover hers where it clutched his head. "I want…" he muttered vaguely: "I… want…"

"Ye-ah?" Kate whispered and he opened his eyes to see her staring at him shyly and biting her lip.

"Kaaatie…?" he began and paused for a long moment. Then he waggled his head and muttered sluggishly: "I wanna see Bora Bora before I die."

Kate's nervous expression split into a warm grin: "Well," she replied quietly, her tone slightly indulgent: "maybe we could go together."

He felt his lips creak upward in each corner as he immediately began to imagine such a perfect fantasy becoming reality. "Go sailing…" he breathed, bobbing his head lazily.

"And horseback riding," Kate added, her eyes glowing gently at him.

He hummed lowly: "Sip cocktails at sunset…"

She responded softly: "Swim in the ocean…"

"Mmm, yeah, " he nodded, letting his head drop back to her shoulder: "Make out in the sand…"

He felt her body stiffen a little beneath his invading bulk, but he ignored it, seeking that soft, vanilla place again with his nose. Only this time he wasn't looking for comfort, this time he wasn't looking for a place to rest. Kate tilted back slightly in her chair, her hands moving to his shoulders, gently trying to push him back into his own space.

"Let's do it, Katie," he murmured into her neck, his alcohol breath drenching her fresh skin: "Let's run away to Bora Bora. You and me, Katie…." He smiled, reaching out for her but finding her hands dueling with his in mid-air: "Right now, Katie, let's go. I wanna go. I wanna take you…"

Kate stood abruptly, pressing his wandering hands back against his chest. "I'm going to get your coffee, Gibbs," she told him quietly, looking down at him with an aching expression he couldn't stand.

"Kate," he sighed, unable to take her hint, wanting her to understand: "Kate, c'mere..." He reached for her again, tugging at her with sloppy, demanding hands, and pulled her down into his lap.

"Gibbs!" she gasped, her hands bracing her against the back of the chair and table ledge. She glared at him confused, her breath coming out in ragged, astonished pants.

He stared into her eyes, thoroughly relishing the way the silk of her pajamas slid against his rougher clothing. "I don't need coffee," he told her solemnly.

Kate blinked at him, her eyes wide: "I--"

Her voice cut off as he hoisted her into a better position on his lap, drawing her nice and close. As he held her, his eyes began to take her in, up close this time. One arm curled about her back, his hand grasping her side and the other arm grasped her legs, his hand smoothing over the bare skin of her upper thigh.

She felt so good that his head began to swim again -- for an entirely different reason. The heat of her body was burning through his clothes, igniting his muscle and bone and blood to the point that he pulsed with need and desire and curiosity.

How much more could she do to him? How much more could he adore her? How much more could he resist? How much more alive would he feel if he could witness, touch what was underneath that heavenly blue silk?

The small body in his arms suddenly came to life, breaking from her stupefaction. She struggled to right herself but without her feet touching the floor, he had complete control and he held her easily.

"Gibbs--!!" she tried again but her words died when his eyes climbed back up to her face and their gaze locked.

"Relax, it's okay," he assured her slurrily. He stroked her thigh and held her tight, adding gently: "I just wanna look at you."

Kate's eyes blazed, indignant and intense as she stared at him, her cheeks reddening by the second. It heightened her beauty ten-fold and made his body react with increased interest. And then suddenly, that resistance relented and he felt her slacken in his embrace. She dropped her eyes away from his and let her arm slide carefully around his shoulders.

He moved the hand on her thigh up to push back a few wisps of hair that had fallen over her face when she'd tried to move away. Carefully, he curled them behind her ear and then let his finger drift down her burning cheek. Kate raised her eyes to his and he was taken aback to see the mixture of hope and arousal and fragility that she was allowing him to see.

"You're so beautiful," he mused quietly, the words making it out of his mouth without his consent. He inched closer, inexplicably, irresistibly drawn to her big, dark eyes and open, amazed lips. "How did you get so beautiful?" he demanded softly, his hand curling about her spicy neck: "I wanna know…"

He pulled her face closer and Kate didn't resist. Her eyes dropped to his mouth as she moved in, closer and closer until their lips were hovering a mere inch apart. Their breaths mingled, his scotch mixed with her toothpaste. Breathily, she sighed his name, and he just couldn't stand it anymore.

He pressed his lips against hers and felt her soft mouth fit perfectly with his. For a moment, they froze, connected -- kissing. At last. His hand slid up through her hair. Her arm squeezed him tight. But their mouths remained immobile in the magical awe of that first moment of contact.

Then, he broke it, twisting her hair in his fingers and tilting her head to one side. He delved into her mouth with his tongue and drank her essence. Kate squirmed against him, shifting in his lap and igniting a fire he hadn't felt in years. Her moans were muffled as she tried to reciprocate his passion, clinging to him like she was being swept away by a giant storm.

She tore her mouth away, throwing her head back and gasping for air. But Gibbs didn't have the patience to stop for a breather. His mouth began to assault her neck, his hands roving desperately over her silk-clad curves. It still wasn't enough though. He couldn't seem to devour enough of her.

He was loosing all tenderness and awareness. Kate hands were on his head again, attempting to calm him. Her voice was calling his name from far away, attempting to reach him. He was overcome by some feral need, which had banked up too long in his constrained body. He ripped at her shirt, exposing her chest to his gaze and proceeding to cover her with kisses and sucks and love bites in a frenzied succession. He was muttering to her in a vague voice about silk and beauty and honeymoons and secrets and sawdust and sand and coffee.

She had to understand how much he needed this. He had to make her understand how much he'd always wanted her. But she didn't.

One amazing second, he had his mouth full of Kate flesh, he had her smell filling his nostrils and seducing his brain, he had his hands inside her silk and his words of love and admiration, truth and lust were pouring over her blossoming skin.

And the next awful second, she was on her feet. She was halfway across the kitchen. She was pulling her shirt over her chest and her eyes were suspiciously moist.

He had no idea what had happened. He thought she understood. He thought she liked it. He thought she cared. He was wrong.

He'd stuffed up royally and he didn't know what to say. He just stared at her, his body still trembling and pulsing for her. It wouldn't stop. It didn't understand that she didn't want him back.

"We can't do this," she was telling him through his swirling haze.

He felt like he was going to pass out. He got up from his chair and stumbled. Kate reached out to help but then pulled back as he straightened unsteadily and faced her.

"I think you should leave," she said, her eyes as hard as crystals and her cheeks still red with both arousal and anger.

He nodded and turned towards the door. He didn't utter a further word. It had taken everything he had just to shuffle out of her kitchen and find the front door. The last thing he remembered was leaning back against the wall in the hallway outside her apartment. He heard her flick the deadlock from inside and then the rest of the night was a complete blank.

Gibbs is sitting on his back porch in a deep and ratty chair, watching the sun set and feeling rather deep and ratty himself, when, seemingly from nowhere, Kate Todd appears, wading through the long grass in the burnished light, like an exact manifestation of his constant, intensive thoughts.

From her dress, he guesses she has come straight from work. He watches with increasing unease as she carefully treads in her low heels through the knee-high scrub that has recently consumed his formerly neat backyard. When she makes it to the stairs, she lifts her head and meets his eyes, a slightly nervous look crossing her face. Stepping up onto the porch, she leans against the railing post and tips her head to one side.

"Hey stranger," she murmurs liltingly, offering him a quiet smile.

He hasn't been to work for weeks. Kate resumed full control of the team again after his doctors advised against him returning to full-time work. They seemed to think his condition had deteriorated somewhat and Director Morrow was unwilling to contest their judgment. He hadn't fought the decision – Kate had, but to no avail. She assured him, however, that his desk would be kept clear for him and he would be welcome back whenever he was ready.

He hasn't seen a soul in days, has not spoken a word to anyone in longer. He runs a hand over his unshaven jaw and glances down at his grubby clothes. His fist clenches around the glass in his lap and his mouth opens and closes a few times experimentally. He feels Kate's covert but astute gaze run over the unkempt length of him and he dully hopes she hates what she sees.

"What are you doing here?" he grumbles, hoping that if the smell of him doesn't put her off, his ominous tone should.

Kate casts a lazy look out over his untamed backyard, her eyes filed with the sunset's last rays. She appears utterly unperturbed by his lack of a proper welcome and he should've known better than to expect anything less. Kate has long since grown immune to his incessant grumbling and growling.

She turns back to him, peering coyly at him from the corner of her eye: "I was in the neighborhood," she tells him in a softly pointed tone of voice.

Gibbs immediately averts his eyes, ignoring the playful reference. "Drink?" he grunts, holding up his precious bottle.

"Please," Kate nods, moving closer and dropping her bag to the floor.

"What can I do for you?" he rumbles, pouring a small portion of bourbon into his tumbler and handing it across to her.

Kate gives him a smile as she leans forward to accept the glass from his hand. Then she settles back against the wooden railing, facing him with her ankles crossed and her hair glowing red from the distant sunset. He hoists himself a little higher in his chair and watches her take a tentative sip of the liquor. He can tell she hates the harsh taste but she doesn't say so.

"I, ah," she swirls the liquid in the glass, her head bowed and her voice slightly shaky: "I wanted to talk to you."

"‘Bout what?" he answers, knowing that if Kate wanted his advice on a work matter, she would just have phoned. What's left of his body tenses with anticipation and fear.

She shrugs nervously and feigns levity: "Bora Bora?"

Gibbs clears his throat. "I hear it's great this time of year," he jokes morbidly, earning a withering look from his new drinking buddy.

"Gibbs…" she starts hesitantly, looking at her feet and nursing the drink she doesn't want: "-- about that night…." She lifts her head to look at him and he finds his steely gaze faltering. "About what happened…" she murmurs delicately, holding her breath.

Gibbs turns away, grimacing at the long grass: "I never apologized," he admits, plainly.

Kate shakes her head faintly. "I'm not looking for an apology," she replies, her voice urgent and gentle.

He looks up at her, a little surprised. "What then?" he asks warily.

"Well…" she sets her drink on the railing and moves closer. She drags the other, equally ragged chair next to his and gingerly takes a seat: "--an explanation, I guess."

Gibbs stares at her blankly and gulps. "I was drunk," he tells her after a moment.

She leans towards him, allowing his guarded gaze to scan her face, fixed in expression of understanding and searching. He finds it simultaneously exasperating and enticing. He both wants her to leave and doesn't.

He's completely at a loss as to what she's wanting from him -- or her point in dredging up whatever occurred, or might have occurred, between them over a lifetime ago.

"Yeah, I know," Kate sighs, nodding her head and looking at her lap. "That's why I stopped it," she continues, her voice soft and wavering: "But it doesn't mean…" her face rises and her brown eyes pin his, full of meaning and intent: "doesn't mean that I didn't feel it, Gibbs."

"Feel what?" he mutters obtusely, leaning back in his chair as the grasshoppers commence their nightly song.

This is the best part of his day and he's missing it. He feels a touch on his hand, as gentle as the wind, and he quickly looks down to see his hand pull out from under Kate's. He hides it in his lap, sinking back further into his deep chair. Slowly, she reaches over further, cautiously resting her hand on his closest knee.

He looks at it unfeelingly for a moment then mutters sharply: "I can't feel it."

Kate shifts her hand slightly higher on his leg. "You can't?" she whispers anxiously.

He glances at her darkly then picks up the hand on his leg and shoves it back at her: "I don't feel anything, Kate. You know that."

He turns away again, her patient awkwardness creating tiny pinpricks in his armor as she sits back in her chair, the minutes passing in silence. He gazes out towards the horizon, feeling more and more protected by the deepening night.

"It was wrong then," he mutters finally, his voice dormant and deflated: "and now…" He huffs and shakes his head heavily: "it's even worse now."

Kate hesitates before insisting gently: "Give me one good reason."

He shakes his head again, his voice becoming more vehement: "The reasons are obvious, Kate."

He reaches for his wheelchair, drawing it close. He starts to lift himself from the wicker chair into his wheelchair and Kate rises to her feet, reaching out to help.

"Don't--! Just--!" he snaps sharply, gritting his teeth: "don't touch me!"

He feels his face turn red as he lifts himself up with his arms and shifts his heavy body from one seat to the other. He sighs, falling back into his familiar chair and swatting her helpful hands away. Kate takes a step back, watching quietly as he catches his breath.

Then slowly, carefully, she bends down and lifts his limp legs, one at a time, onto the foot rests. He watches in defeat, his breath coming rough and his hands gripping the wheels tightly.

"Gibbs… it's not wrong," Kate tells him, her head bowed and her voice so soft that he barely hears her. She gazes up at him, from her place at his feet, her eyes swelling with earnest emotion: "It never was. I'm sorry I--" She swallows and looks down, taking a moment to gather her thoughts and her courage. "The reasons aren't obvious to me, Gibbs," she murmurs, tilting her head back and looking him in the eye.

He holds her gaze but refuses to see the truth of what her eyes are presenting him with. She's ambushed him tonight and he resents it. He doesn't know what incited this outpouring in Kate and he doesn't want to. He wants her to go back to her life -- and leave him to waste the rest of his.

He propels his wheelchair backwards, retreating from her touch and her gaze. "Why're you here?" he questions impatiently, his brow creased in confusion: "Kate, why're you pushing this?"

Kate gets to her feet, holding her hands out at her sides. "Because I care, Gibbs," she flusters, her cheeks turning pink: "because, because I--"

Gibbs turns to the porch door and opens it for himself: "I don't need your pity," he barks over his shoulder, before he disappears inside and lets the screen door slap closed behind him.

"It's not pity, Gibbs--" she calls after him, her voice trailing off and her hand reaching out in entreaty. She takes one step forward, but stops in her tracks. Letting out a big breath, she brushes her forehead with her fingers. "It's not pity," she whispers to herself. "God…." she sighs, her head bowed: "it's love."

But her old boss is long gone and only the crickets and the stars hear her muffled confession. She turns to the railing, picks up the remaining bourbon and downs it in one hit. She gasps and gags.

"Well, that went well," she mutters gloomily to the night sky.

Part V

Gibbs doesn't protest when Ducky steers his old Morgan out of the hospital carpark after his therapy and turns it in the opposite direction to his house. He resists the urge to ask where they are going, or if his weird little contraption has any sort of heating. Ducky doesn't say anything until they stop at a light and he pulls out a folder from the back seat.

"I thought we might take a little drive," he murmurs amiably as he hands Gibbs the bulging folder.

Gibbs nods silently, opens the folder and begins reading. The file holds a mountain of research on injuries similar to his own and on all the different therapies that can be sought. On top of the pile is a copy of an article from a recent medical journal about a thirty-three year old man who had recovered the use of his lower body after a severe motorcycle accident which left him partially disabled.

Gibbs gradually wades through the material, studying with a knit brow as Ducky calmly negotiates the traffic and slippery roads. The sky is a violent gray and threatening to pour by the time they reach the waterside, the wind bleak and cold as they climb out of the car.

Gibbs doesn't notice the depressing weather as he sits in his chair gazing out over the water. He closes the file in his lap, absently watching a flock of gulls swoop over the water, bright and light against the restless sky. Ducky stands by the peeling railing, hands in his pockets, peering expectantly at him over his specs.

"Exactly how experimental is this procedure, Duck?" Gibbs finally asks in a slow, low voice.

Ducky clears his throat and answers cautiously: "There is always some risk with any surgery."

Gibbs looks up at him for a moment, his gaze fixed and intense: "But I could walk again?"

Ducky nods and adjusts his glasses, answering: "It would greatly increase your chances, yes."

"This doctor," Gibbs starts, opening the file and scanning the article: "Dr Eric Thurston? He's right here in DC? I could meet with him?"

"Yes, indeed," Ducky replies, starting to pace back and forth a little as the wind whips his hair about: "In fact, I spoke with him last week on the telephone. He's the husband of a friend of a friend of a friend of mine. Seemed like a decent sort of chap--" he turns towards him, jabbing a finger at him: "and he thought that you were a prime candidate for this sort of surgery. Although--"

"What?" Gibbs mutters, looking up with a creased brow.

Ducky faces him squarely, straightening his shoulders: "Well, he did say that, at your age," he pauses for a moment then continues in a faintly pointed tone of voice: "He said a positive attitude is absolutely pivotal in the recovery process."

Gibbs looks vaguely affronted. "I can be positive," he mumbles tightly.

The older man shakes his head, hiding a slight smile: "I have no doubt."

Gibbs looks down again, deep in thought for a moment. When he looks up again, his eyes are grave and curious: "You think it's worth the risk?" he mutters quietly.

Ducky smiles ruefully, taking a step forward: "I can't make that call."

"But you're a doctor," Gibbs protests, his face screwing up in impatience: "What's your medical opinion?"

"It's entirely your decision, Jethro," Ducky continues, quiet and calm. "But, having said that," he pauses briefly then adds: "if I were in your situation, I would meet with this man. He may be able to help… I can drive you, if you like."

Gibbs bobs his head and sighs: "Thanks Duck."

Ducky regards him intently for a moment, then waggles a crooked finger at him: "There's something else I want you to consider."

He strides back to the car, pulls another folder from his briefcase and walks back, handing it over. Gibbs takes the much thinner file and opens it.

"I apologize for the quality," Ducky murmurs casually, sweeping a hand over his ruffled hair: "but I'm sure you'll get the gist of it."

Gibbs holds up the grainy surveillance photograph, a bewildered expression on his face: "Kate?"

"Yes," Ducky muses, stuffing his hands back in his pockets: "She's developed this odd habit of sleeping at the office. I can't imagine where she got it from."

"In my chair?" Gibbs notes, squinting closer at the image of a curled up Katie.

"Hmm," Ducky nods, pacing back and forth again: "I caught her once, early in the morning. She said and I quote--" he pauses, telling him with a knowing emphasis: "it helps her to think more like Gibbs."

Gibbs glances at the photo again and mutters: "What are you saying? You think she needs my help?"

"No, no. Not at all," Ducky replies, wagging his head. "Quite the opposite, in fact," he adds quietly, sitting down on the weathered bench and facing him. He takes a breath before speaking, his voice kind but firm: "If you decide to undergo this surgery, Jethro," he murmurs thoughtfully: "you will need all the support you can get," he points at the picture in his hands and pats his shoulder lightly: "…Maybe it's time to stop pushing people away and start accepting what they can give."

Gibbs bows his head, noticing how comfortable and at peace Kate looks in her sleep. She looks small in his chair, one hand falling over the edge of the seat and her knees curled up under her jacket. As he's studying the image, a few raindrops fall on the paper, making the monochrome bleed. The sky above rumbles in warning and distant lightning splits the clouds hovering over the ocean.

Ducky quickly helps him back to the car, then slips into the driver's side, just as cold, fat drops of water begin to drop from the sky, obscuring the surrounding landscape. They sit for a moment in silence, watching the horizon quickly disappear behind a curtain of thick fog.

"I want to do it," Gibbs says finally, his voice low and unwavering: "I want the surgery."

Ducky turns to look at him, remarking carefully: "You realize this means psyche evaluations and hospital stays and daily therapy--"

Gibbs ducks his head and gulps: "I realize that." He pauses and turns to face him, adding resolutely: "I'll do it. Whatever it takes, I'll do it."

Ducky's worn face splits into a warm half-smile. He starts the car, muttering under his breath: "Bravo, Jethro."

Part VI

"So!" Tony plops into the seat opposite Kate in the busy cafeteria: "How's Gibbs doin'?"

Kate looks up from the file she's pursuing and swallows her mouthful of tuna salad. "Why ask me?" she responds tensely.

Tony shrugs and unwraps his sandwich: "Thought you might know."

Kate dusts some breadcrumbs from her hands and tells him calmly: "He goes back into hospital next week."

"Another operation?" Tony mumbles, grasping his sandwich between both hands and eyeing the contents greedily.

Kate nods and rips off another piece of bread roll: "Hopefully the last, according to Ducky."

"Hmmm," Tony nods, taking a big bite of his lunch and speaking through a mouthful of food: "So… what's going on there?"

Kate watches him with barely restrained disgust, mixed with slight confusion: "Where?"

"With you and Gibbs?" he prompts casually, flicking his eyes between her face and his lunch.

"What do you mean?" Kate murmurs, sifting through her salad with her fork: "What makes you think there's anything going on?" she asks, a slight edge in her tone.

Tony scoffs disbelievingly: "Come on, Kate. I've spent pretty much every waking minute of every hour over the last three and a half years with you two--" he shoots her a smug grin and leans across the table conspiratorially: "I think I can tell when something's going on."

Kate averts her eyes, poking at her salad and cursing her cheeks for turning pink. She feels her mouth twitch in one corner and bites her lip to stop it from giving her away.

But, holding this thing inside is completely and progressively eating away at her. She's gone over it a million times in her head but never dared to share her thoughts or feelings with another living soul. Not even Gibbs himself. Every time she tries to reach out to him, things just end up all mangled and misunderstood. She's never in her life felt so at a loss when dealing with a man.

But Jethro Gibbs is no ordinary man. And what he's dealing with is no ordinary situation.

"You love him--"

Her reverie is interrupted and Kate looks up abruptly. Tony is studying her intently, his eyes narrowed and his expression thoughtful.

"…don't you?" he states, resolutely.

Kate's mouth drops open slightly and she glances about them as two agents walk past, chatting and laughing. "Would you please keep your voice down?" she hisses, the color in her cheeks rising even more.

"Seen it a million times," Tony continues offhandedly, taking a sip of his drink. He plants his elbows on the table and shakes his head: "Why do the smartest women always make the dumbest choices when it comes to love?"

Kate purses her lips in irritation: "Thanks."

"Well…" Tony shrugs, giving her a careful once-over and amending lightly: "I guess he could do a lot worse."

Kate lifts a single eyebrow, her expression softening in surprise and appreciation: "Thanks."

Tony shrugs again and inhales another massive morsel of his sandwich. Kate returns to absently picking at her tuna salad. Around them, their fellow agents chat and eat and work while outside a light rain has started to fall, covering the D.C. landscape in a fine, clean mist.

"Hey, you ever seen "An Affair to Remember"?" Tony speaks up suddenly.

Kate folds her arms and leans back in her chair, a little baffled by the change of subject: "Ah…I don't think so."

"Augh, Kate," he groans, rolling his eyes: "it's a classic!" He drops his sandwich onto its wrapper and begins explaining enthusiastically: "Okay! -- so, it's Deborah Kerr and Cary Grant, right? She's a singer, he's a playboy. And they fall in love on this cruiseship."

"Sounds realistic so far," Kate mumbles as he takes a breath.

Tony ignores her and keeps unraveling the plot: "But she's not sure about him, because--"

Kate raises her eyebrows and remarks pointedly: "Because he dates so many women?"

Tony shoots her a withering look and continues: "And he's not sure she'll have him because all he does is sail around the world and seduce women."

"Hm," smiles Kate sweetly: "sounds like your kind of lifestyle, Tony."

"You're not wrong," he grins, waggling his eyebrows at her.

Kate giggles despite herself. "So??…" she prompts.

"So-o," Tony goes on, his hands flying about in mid-air as he talks: "They decide to meet again in six months if they still feel the same way."

"And I assume they do," Kate replies, taking a bite of her salad as she listens: "After all --it's Cary Grant."

Tony pulls a suave face and declares in his best Cary Grant voice: "Exactly, my dear." He holds up a finger and pauses dramatically: "Bu-ut…. as she's rushing to meet him… she gets hit by a car, ends up in hospital and finds out she can't walk!"

He falls back in his chair, puffing slightly in amazement as he recalls the moving scene. Then, recovering, he leans forward and takes another two bites of his lunch.

Kate stares at him incredulously: "And that's the end?"

"No," he chomps noisily: "no way."

Kate waits for him to further the plot but Tony just hums contentedly as he relishes his food. "Tony," she begins, shaking her head vaguely: "I'm seeing the parallel here, but not the subtext."

"Well," Tony mutters, leaning across the table to her like he's imparting the secret of the universe: "See, she tells her friend that until she can walk to him--"

"To Cary Grant?" she questions.

"Yeah, to Cary Grant," he nods impatiently: "she doesn't want him to know."

"So, she's too proud," Kate asks skeptically: "to tell him she still loves him?"

"And that she can't walk," Tony adds, bobbing his head and sitting back again: "Pride's a terrible thing, Kate," he remarks seriously, stuffing his sandwich into his mouth: "That's why I don't have any."

Kate grins dryly: "Yeah, you're a paragon of modesty, Tony."

"S'ankyou," he smirks, licking his lips.

Kate shakes her head, returning to the storyline: "But it doesn't make sense -- not to tell him. Not if she really loves him."

"Tell me about it," Tony mutters, his voice becoming slightly exasperated: "I mean it's Cary Grant, right? She loves Cary Grant. We all know she loves Cary Grant."

"Except Cary Grant?" guesses Kate wryly.

Tony grins across the table at her: "Now you're getting my subtext."

Kate averts her eyes, taking another mouthful of food. "So, how does it end?" she asks, smiling gently: "Does she walk?"

"You never find out," he shrugs, slurping his drink. "He tracks her down, tries to get some answers, but she still won't tell him why she never showed. Then he sees the painting--!" He pauses, furrowing his brow for a moment, then he briskly finishes: "Can't remember what that's about. But anyway, he figures it all out. They kiss and that's the end."

"Alright…" she muses carefully: "and your point is?"

"My point, Kate dear, is this--" Tony replies matter-of-factly: "One; it's a really good movie and you should totally rent the DVD."

"And two?" she prompts with a little smile.

Tony spreads his hands and announces simply: "People in love are schmucks."

"How do you know?" she questions bluntly: "You've never really been in love."

"That's because people in love are schmucks," he explains smoothly.

Kate rolls her eyes and hesitates, not believing she is about to ask what she is about to ask. "Okay, so," she shrugs and glances out at the falling rain, speaking falteringly: "for the sake of argument…. hypothetically speaking…."

"Yeeeaaah?" Tony murmurs slowly.

She takes a breath and blurts out: "If I wasn't behaving like a schmuck," she narrows her eyes and queries tentatively: "what exactly would I be doing?"

Tony sighs and leans forward once more. "Gibbs is a slow learner, Kate," he tells her quietly: "Give him time."

Kate blinks and nods, surprised and oddly comforted by the unexpected advice. Tony probably knows Gibbs as well as anyone, she muses – and her too. Perhaps, he has a point.

Tony shoves the last of his sandwich in his mouth, chews thoughtfully for a moment then adds: "And if that doesn't work…" he points a finger at her, his eyes lighting up lewdly: "get some really hot underwear and some raunchy music--"

Kate holds up a hand: "I'm gonna stop you right there."

"Hey, guys," McGee greets, approaching with his own lunch and taking a seat next to Kate: "What're you taking about?"

Kate stalls: "Um…"

"Deborah Kerr," Tony responds swiftly.

"Who?" McGee asks, with a creased brow. "Who, Probie? Who?!" Tony scoffs exasperatedly, his voice rising in volume and his face turning slightly red: "Screen Goddess! Deborah Kerr! "An Affair to Remember"?! "From Here to Eternity"?! "Prisoner of Zenda"??!"

"Oh!--" Probie pipes up, smiling happily: "I know that one."

"Thank you!" Tony exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air

"Yeah," nods McGee: "I read the book in high school."

Kate giggles under her breath and McGee grins as Tony's expression darkens. He scoots back in his chair, glaring at them both petulantly. He scrunches his lunch wrapper and throws it in the nearest garbage can with barely a glance.

"Read the book…" he grumbles as he stalks away.

Tony whistles as he makes his way down the corridor leading to the NCIS gym. Kate had mentioned doing some team training earlier that day and, despite the fact he hasn't entered the gym in six months, he's determined to be ready for her ninja girl moves.

With his gym bag slung over his shoulder, he punches through the double doors and saunters into the cavernous space, which is empty except for one figure. Against the wall, on the far side of the room, beneath a set of parallel bars sits the slumped figure of his former boss. His legs are splayed out in front of him, a patch of sweat marks the front of his sweater and his head is dropped back against the wall, his chest rising and falling deeply.

Tony hasn't seen Gibbs since he visited him in hospital following the operation they were all praying would change his life and prospects. But he is hardly surprised to find him here.

After all, NCIS was his second home for over fifteen years. He was almost part of the furniture. He was almost part of the insignia. A strange but distinct void had spread throughout the office with his sudden absence. And Tony had felt it more than anyone.

Gibbs looks over at the sound of someone approaching and lifts himself up slightly with his hands. Tony stops in his tracks, taken aback by the sight of his usually solid and stoic boss, looking so drained and defeated.

Then carefully, he steps closer, dropping his bag on a nearby bench with a quiet thump.

"Hey, Boss," he murmurs lightly: "Watcha doin'?"

Gibbs grimaces crossly. "Signing a peace treaty, DiNozzo," he snaps half-heartedly: "What does it look like?"

Tony ignores the bite in his tone and asks cheerily: "How's the therapy coming?"

Looking down at his inert legs, Gibbs remarks shortly: "Slowly."

Tony rests his elbows on one of the parallel bars and looks down at him: "Need a hand?" he asks carefully.

Gibbs looks uncomfortable but sighs gratefully: "Yeah."

Tony ducks in between the bars and leans down to put his arms around the bigger man. Gibbs holds onto him tightly and grunts with the effort, using all the strength in his body to pull himself upright. Tony leans back, peering at his pained expression and bent posture as his old boss shuffles unstably to his feet. And slowly, he begins to let go.

"Wow, Gibbs," he mutters under his breath, glancing over the upright height of him: "You can stand?"

Gibbs grimaces, reaching for the parallel bars with both hands. "Sometimes," he huffs, gritting his teeth.

Tony ducks back out of his way and watches for a few moments as Gibbs takes small, painful steps with the aid of the wooden bars and the support of his upper body might. He is about to ask if he can help in any way when Gibbs stops, adjusting his hold on the bars.

"Do me a favor, DiNozzo--" he puffs, bowing his head and taking a few deep breaths.

"Want me to spot you?" Tony jokes nervously from the sidelines.

Gibbs closes his eyes for a moment, then mutters wearily: "Tell me the plot of a movie."

Tony stares at him, stunned: "What?"

"Any movie," Gibbs adds, his voice becoming sharper as he starts to move again: "I don't care what it is-- just talk."

Tony laughs and points to himself with both hands: "You've come to the right person." He pushes up the sleeves of his NCIS sweater and begins talking with his usual verve and pace: "Okay, so, a while back, I was telling Kate about this old flick, "An Affair to Remember". My mother used to watch it, like, fifteen times a month. Total chick flick."

"Yeah, I remember it," Gibbs replies dully, taking one slow step after another: "Redhead ends up in a wheelchair."

"Yeah, well…" Tony shrugs vaguely: "She seemed to dig it."

"I'll bet," Gibbs comments, his voice labored as he turns himself around at one end of the parallel bars and begins the journey back. "Kate's got that whole angel savior thing going on," he mutters, his eyes cast to the floor in concentration: "Why do you think she joined the Secret Service?"

Tony smiles twistedly and shakes his head a little: "I don't think Kate's trying to save you, Gibbs," he offers gingerly, reading between the lines and watching his boss' slow progress.

"No?" Gibbs challenges, lifting his head and glaring at him with fiery eyes: "Then you tell me, DiNozzo," he demands harshly: "what the hell is she trying to do?"

Tony shrugs lightly: "I dunno…" He leans on the bar, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes: "Get into your pants, maybe?"

Gibbs' intense concentration shatters. He looses his grip and crumples to the floor in a heavy heap, dumbfounded and disconcerted. Tony can't help but chuckle quietly at the older man's apparent shock. He sits down, facing him on the mat as Gibbs clears his throat and tries to banish the idea from his mind.

"Actually, Boss," Tony admits tentatively: "I'm pretty sure she's in love with you."

Gibbs looks at him, his face unreadable and his reaction carefully concealed.

"Just thought I'd mention it…." Tony rambles uncertainly: "She's got it bad…." he nods, lowering his voice and adding sheepishly: "Wasn't sure if you'd noticed."

Gibbs draws in a long breath then slowly lets it out, gazing at his callused hands for a long moment and rubbing his swollen wrists.

Tony grins suddenly and punches his shoulder: "Anyone ever tell you you're a lucky man?"

Gibbs looks up at him and answers bluntly: "Frequently." He runs a hand over his head and mumbles: "Get me my chair, will you?"

Tony gets to his feet and retrieves Gibbs' wheelchair from where it sits by the wall. Then he carefully helps lift his boss' tired and sweaty body into it. Gibbs pats his arm briefly as he withdraws.

"Tony?"

Tony crouches down by the chair: "Yeah, Boss?"

He pauses for a moment in thought. "I'm gonna walk again," Gibbs tells him finally in a quiet, strained voice.

Tony nods and replies: "That what the doctors told you?"

"Not exactly," Gibbs mutters, gritting his teeth. He narrows his eyes as he meets the younger man's intent gaze: "But I'm going to."

Tony smiles easily and nods again: "I believe you, Boss."

Gibbs clears his throat and glances about at the empty space: "Gym's quiet on Tuesdays."

Tony gets to his feet and looks about too: "Yeah, I noticed."

"Good time to work out," Gibbs adds, turning the wheels on his chair and heading for the exit.

"Yep," Tony agrees, bobbing his head and watching him leave.

Gibbs turns back at the doors, hesitating for a second before he leaves: "See ya round, DiNozzo."

With the gym so still, it's a good opportunity to think and Tony heads for the punching bags to begin his own workout. It's at least five minutes later when he's starting to work up a good sweat that he realizes what his boss was asking of him in his own inscrutable way.

He turns to look at the door, smiling to himself. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he makes a mental note to reschedule his dinner date with Bambi from the Agricultural Department. Looks like his Tuesday evenings are going to be full -- for a little while at least.

Kate is curled up on her couch, beneath a fuzzy blanket, her lap full of soggy tissues as she weeps through the last act of "An Affair to Remember". The phone rings in the middle of the climatic scene and she presses pause, grabbing another two tissues and blowing her nose as she waits for the incoming message to record.

She hears the beep and stalls mid-blow when, after a long pause, Jethro Gibbs' low tones fill her silent living room. Scrambling closer to the machine, she crouches in one corner of the couch with wet eyes as he logs his message.

"Kate. Hi," he starts, clearing his throat nervously.

Kate leans closer. She knows that, however casual he pretends to be, Gibbs hates answering machines and would only leave a message if he wanted something very important.

"Just wanted to, ah…." he pauses again for an overly long moment before continuing uncertainly: "see if you'd like to…. come over. To my place. For a meal. Maybe a movie. When you have time."

Kate's eyes widen and her mouth falls open as she listens, rapt and baffled. Her hand reaches out and she nearly picks up the phone but Gibbs abruptly hangs up without a further word and she's left listening to the silence.

She plays the message one more time just to make sure she isn't imagining things. Then she flops back onto the couch and watches the rest of "An Affair to Remember" with a wide smile stretching across her face.

-x-x-x-

It's his fifth movie night with Kate. He refrains from calling them dates – although, that's probably what it looks like from the outside. From the inside, he doesn't care.

Things started to improve somewhat after his final operation. It began with the movie nights with Kate on Fridays and the training sessions with Tony on Tuesdays. Tony did very little except talk. While Gibbs hobbled back and forth with gradually increasing strength and control, Tony managed to recount the entire "Indiana Jones" trilogy, various Hitchcock classics and most of the "Rocky" saga -- which Gibbs assumed was his idea of a pep talk.

Ducky still took him to his usual therapy, five times a week, where Chelsea marveled at his improved progress and attitude and joked about him seeing another nurse. Ducky began to drop in on other days as well, usually bringing with him pamphlets on support groups and quitting the drink, most of which Gibbs ignored, despite the older man's good intentions.

Meanwhile, Abby had taken to randomly showing up on his doorstep with an assortment of Chinese herbs and aromatherapy oils. She liked to bring him odd little gifts too -- music or coffee or cushions or an occasional crime novel from McGee.

Gibbs actually read the books. He actually tried the herbs. He drank the designer coffee and listened to the smooth jazz. He drew the line at taking a bath in scented oils, though.

Day by day, he started to feel more like himself. He drank less, slept more, felt consistently better. And always, at the end of every week, there was the promise of a new film and Kate's company.

It was a fairly safe and simple ritual for them. Kate generally provided the entertainment while he provided the food, whether that was popcorn, pizza or the occasional home cooked meal.

She always managed to find something they could both enjoy, although he suspected she got some input from Tony in that. He laughed at "Pirates of the Caribbean" and pretended not to notice when Kate cried at "Jerry MacGuire" -- and it gave them something to discuss during dinner other than work.

He still got his detailed updates care of Ducky and he trusted that if Kate needed his guidance or help, she would ask for it. But it was nice to see her outside of their work atmosphere. It was nice to see her turn up in the early evening in her jeans, her hair in a loose ponytail. It was nice to share stories of travel and discuss the newspaper with someone. It was especially nice to have her fall asleep on his shoulder, as she did halfway through "The Usual Suspects".

He reminded himself that he seriously needed to amend his definition of ‘nice'. Because that drab, trivial word just didn't cover a quiet night in with Kate Todd. He hadn't realized how much he'd come to rely upon the fledging routine and the promise of her presence until she'd had to cancel two weeks in a row because of work commitments.

But she is coming tonight.

After two weeks of not seeing her at all, he'd spoken to her last night and told her he had a surprise. Kate had called him a tease when he wouldn't give her a clue.

"You'll just have to wait and see," he'd murmured smugly.

"Fine," she'd answered petulantly: "I'll see you at seven."

It's six minutes to seven and he knows she won't be late. Kate relishes surprises too much to put them off. And she's as punctual as a Swiss watch.

Gibbs makes sure the door is locked one last time. The surprise won't work as well, if she lets herself in. As he is heading back to the living room, where one of Abby's jazz CDs is playing, he hears Kate's footsteps outside and her knock at his door.

He wheels himself back to the door and parks himself two steps from the threshold. Then, lifting his feet to the floor, he gradually uses his arms to lever himself up into a standing position.

"Gibbs?" Kate calls from the other side of the door.

"Yep, coming," he responds as his heart thumps and his hands stiffen at his sides.

He pulls in a breath, finding his balance before he places one foot in front of the other and takes one small step, completely unaided. He grits his teeth, focusing his gaze on the back of the door and taking another cautious step. One hand reaches out to touch wood and carefully he unlatches the bolt.

Straightening his shoulders, he slowly opens the door. Kate is crouched down on his doorstep, rummaging through a shopping bag, obviously searching for something. Her keys and handbag and a few files are scattered about her on the ground.

He smiles down at her as he shuffles closer. "Hey," he murmurs quietly.

Kate tucks her hair behind her ear then stops suddenly as one of his shoes enters her field of vision. The hand in her hair slides down to her chest and slowly, she raises her eyes to his face.

"Oh God…." she whispers, her eyes full of wonder. Slowly, she rises to her feet, looking him over with one hand resting over her heart and one covering her open mouth. "I can't believe it…." she smiles, her eyes growing slightly moist: "I mean, I can…" she fumbles, her gaze skating down over his standing figure and one tear glistening in the corner of her eye: "But I can't!…"

Gibbs smiles and holds his hands out at his sides: "Surprise," he mutters sheepishly.

Kate giggles delightedly and shakes her head in amazement. "I'm …." she gasps, speechless: "You're….!" She gazes up at him, her brow creased: "Can you--?"

"Walk?" he replies quietly, looking down at her and giving a little nod: "Soon."

Kate bites her lip as she stares up at him, her eyes glowing with awe and warmth. She steps into him, moving close and carefully sliding her arms up over his. She smiles nervously and blinks up at him, slipping an arm up around his neck. She's about to either to hug or kiss him, when he lays a gentle hand on her shoulder, a tight grimace passing over his face.

"Kate?" he sighs, his knees turning to jelly.

Without another word, her capable arms band around him and she guides him back towards the wheelchair still sitting in the hallway. He eases himself into it, feeling her hands soothe him as they withdraw and her familiar perfume wash over him in soft waves. She kneels down in front of him and carefully lifts each of his feet onto the foot rests.

"Congratulations," she whispers, her hands sliding back up his legs to squeeze his knees.

He looks down, feeling a lump in his throat. "I'll get there," he replies lightly.

She nods, quiet and proud: "I know you will."

He meets her gaze again to see her whole expression swelling with soft emotion. Her eyes search his for a moment, then drop to his mouth. She bites her lip, rising up onto her knees and inching closer. His hand lifts to cup her jaw and he smiles thoughtfully, his old eyes scanning her face.

He can barely believe it but it's Kate that kisses him. It's she who deletes the last inch separating her breath from his. It's her mouth that nudges his into responding. It's Kate's lips that kiss him so sweet and soft that he cannot resist -- even if he had a reason to.

But he doesn't. So he kisses her back.

Right there in the dim hallway, with the door wide open and her clutter at the threshold. With slow jazz playing in the next room and the crickets starting to sing along. He kisses the woman of his dreams as she kneels at his feet, her tears anointing his flesh and her fingers caressing his cheeks and chest.

Breathless, measureless, priceless minutes pass as he cups her head in his hands and claims her mouth with his. And his recovering body starts to pulse with intense life.

He still recalls the thrill of the first night they slept together. And he does mean slept. As much as he wishes different, his half-awake body still isn't up to more than that.

They'd made some excuse about it being late and cold. Kate had fallen asleep on his shoulder again while they were watching a graying Cary Grant and chic Audrey Hepburn make out in "Charade". He didn't want to send her home in the snow. He didn't want her driving when she was sleepy.

He wanted her safe and warm in his bed.

Somehow, it had become an integral part of their new ritual. They never did much more than snuggle and kiss. Quite a lot of kissing. It was deliciously painful. But Gibbs wouldn't give up the agony of it for anything.

For the first time since the accident, waking up with Katie Todd curled against him in his bed, he'd started to experience the first tinglings of real life in his lower body. It felt incredible. Astonishing. Surprising. Exhilarating. It was like discovering those precious sensations of warmth, of excitement, of aching pleasure for the first time in his life.

Each night she stayed with him, he mentally programmed himself to wake early so he could relish the feel of it -- of her -- before she crawled out of his bed. He would pull her against his body, inhaling the scent of her skin or hair, and a small fire would start to burn where previously he'd only felt numbness.

If Kate had noticed the faint stirrings in his lower regions, she didn't acknowledge it. She seemed to be content with what little they could share. But sometimes, when they were in bed together, when they had their hands all over one another, when he had her soft body pressed so intimately against his, Gibbs had to wonder about her own natural impulses.

They were still operating upon a very delicate balance though. Everything was new and strange.

They had their regular movie nights but they never went out on dates. They slept in the same bed, but they didn't make love. They kissed like hormone-addled teenagers but hadn't actually defined their secret relationship.

They cared for each other – deeply – but neither had ventured anywhere near the big ‘L' word.

Despite this, though, in all his past relationships, over all the long years before he met her, he can't ever recall feeling this level of contentment. Perhaps it's because it means so much more to him now, but he doesn't think he's ever felt so utterly secure in the knowledge of who he was sharing his bed with. He's never known or trusted a woman as completely as he knows and trusts Kate.

Listening to the lightly tapping rain that has been falling steadily throughout the night and early morning, Gibbs picks up the floppy hand resting on his chest and kisses it lightly. Kate hums sleepily in response and snuggles a little nearer.

"Kate?" he almost-whispers.

"Hmm…?" she sighs faintly, her legs shifting beneath the warm covers.

He runs the silk of her hand over the stubble on his chin, musing quietly: "I want your help with something."

"What?" she breathes softly.

She doesn't lift her head from his chest or open her eyes but he can feel her close attention resting upon his next words. He puts her hand down, laying his own over hers on his chest. His other hand brushes her hair away from the nape of her neck and begins caressing the skin there with just his fingertips.

"I want to get down to my basement," he tells her finally, his voice low and even.

Her face tilts back to look at him, her sleepy eyes blinking up at him as her smaller fingers entwine with his over his heart.

"I want to see my boat," he explains simply: "I need help with the stairs."

Kate's lips curve into a quiet smile. "Okay," she murmurs, gazing up at him for a moment. Her face contorts and her hand covers her mouth as she yawns widely and burrows into his shoulder. "I have to go into work for a few hours," she sighs reluctantly, stretching against his side. She meets his gaze again, her hand smoothing over his chest in lazy circles: "But we can go down tonight."

He nods silently and watches with amusement as she slowly, tiredly levers up onto her hands and knees, stretching her back like a cat. One hand pushes into the pillow by his head, one plants itself by his side, one leg kneels on the outside of his thigh and the other leg slips in between his. Her hair is a mess, her eyelids only half-open and the big t-shirt he lent her to sleep in droops on her petite frame.

"Is there anything else," she purrs huskily, pressing forward slightly, her nose nudging his chin and her thigh brushing the slight stiffness between his legs: "I can help you with?"

"Ah…" he half-sighs, half-groans, his eyes rolling up towards the ceiling. "Not that I can think of…." he croaks haltingly, his hands drifting up her bare thighs beneath the sheets.

"Well…" breathes Kate, giving him a little kiss on the chin and a sweet grin: "if there is…" she murmurs, rolling out of bed and heading for the door in the baggy, borrowed t-shirt. She turns at the threshold, telling him with pretend nonchalance: "you just let me know."

"I'll do that," he smirks, shifting a little in his bed and already missing her warmth.

Kate smiles and is about to head for the kitchen to start their coffee when he calls her back. She walks back to the bed and he sits up, one hand slung behind him on the mattress and one reaching up to curl about her neck. She sinks back down to the bed as he draws her mouth to his and they kiss, deep and lazy and slow.

"Kate…?" he mutters, as his lips break away to begin drifting down over her neck.

"Yeah…?" she sighs, tipping back her head and closing her eyes.

They are both breathless and the early morning air suddenly feels heavier and hotter. Her thighs part as his hand curls over her knee and inches higher. He moans roughly, his lips longing to continue their journey downward over her skin -- lower and lower and lower.

"If there's anything… I can do… for you--" he offers in a deep, gruff voice. He pauses between kisses and pulls back, examining her face – her eyes hazy, her cheeks pink, her mouth open and moist. She bites her bottom lip as she gazes at him, a little shy.

"Don't hesitate," he finishes lowly, running one finger down her cheek.

It's about time they acknowledged what has been happening in this bed all along. They aren't teenagers anymore and they‘ve already stepped way beyond the boundaries of mere comfort or friendship.

It's true, he doesn't have the full use of his body back, as yet. He can't do with Kate all that he wants to, all he's dreamt about. But his limitations don't necessarily need to be a barrier between them. It doesn't mean they can't move forward with their relationship.

There are plenty of other things they can do together. He's pretty sure Kate has considered them just as much as he has in recent weeks, the closer they've become.

There's a passion in Kate he has always known existed, from the very beginning. He's been longing to invite it out of that prim little shell she sometimes hides behind. And with her playful acknowledgement of his slowly returning passion, he feels confident in laying bare everything he has always wanted to give to her.

He is already her lover in spirit. It's just time to put his money where his mouth is, so to speak.

Kate smiles uncertainly, looking at her lap: "Now that's something to consider…." she remarks tentatively.

He cups her jaw with one hand and leans closer, drawing her eyes back to his. And when he has her unwavering attention, he lets his gaze drop down over her much-coveted form. He lets her see the desire, the adoration in his gaze, in his face; he doesn't hold back one iota of what he cannot deny he's always wanted.

"I mean it," he tells her, his voice slightly anxious, slightly strained. "I--" he stalls, his words catching in his throat as his eyes return to hers and lock in place. "I want you," he tells her, urgent and insistent: "Kate, I want you…so much."

Her lips part as she stares at him, brown eyes wide and rapt. "I want you too," she whispers longingly.

They draw closer, kissing again with greater passion and equal hunger. Greedy hands slip beneath each other's shirts to explore heated skin. Gibbs feels his libido start to overtake the limitations of his body as he steals one hand over her naked hip and tugs her closer on the bed.

His other hand takes the risk of slithering up between their straining bodies to cup her left breast. Kate gasps in surprise and presses closer to him, demanding more of his touch. Her fingers slowly rake up and down his back as she nibbles at his neck, her breath warm on his skin.

"Katie," he mutters between ravenous kisses: "Katie, Katie…. want you so bad…."

"You've got me," she pants in return, untangling her hands from his shirt. One small hand strokes the arm of the hand gently clasping her breast, while the other weaves through his messy hair. "You've got me, Gibbs," she repeats, her voice faint and breathy.

They stare at each other for a long moment, both overwhelmed by the accumulated desire they hold deep down for each other. Kate takes a calming breath and leans in to kiss his forehead.

"I've wanted you forever…" she murmurs, laying soft, wet kisses along his hairline. Her hands move to hold his face and she gives his lips a sweet, lingering kiss: "I'd wait for you," she continues softly, her eyes brimming with feeling: "forever."

Gently, she presses her lips to his again. Wrapping his arms about her, Gibbs pulls her back with him onto the bed, relishing the now familiar feeling of her warmth and softness splayed out over his chest. His big paws clutch handfuls of dark, thick hair and he groans as she opens up to allow his tongue to plunge between her lips.

Kate wriggles higher up the bed, smiling as she sucks at his lips and chin. She leans over him, drinking his muffled moans of pleasure and kissing him back with a new, uninhibited urgency.

When they can go no further with breathless kisses and teasing touches, she pulls back, resting her forehead against his. Her breathing is heavy and harsh and her eyes are closed as they take a few moments to cool off.

"When it happens," she tells him finally, putting a slight emphasis on the ‘when': "…. it will be…" she grins and kisses him one last time: "….spectacular!" she whispers cheekily, making him chuckle.

She sits back on the bed, gazing down at him, her hands skating down his arms as she withdraws: "I've got to get going," she murmurs reluctantly.

He nods and reaches up to tuck her tousled hair behind one ear. Then his hand drops to pat her thigh. Kate tips her head to one side, watching him for a moment.

"But tonight…." she nods, rising and heading for the door: "I promise..."

Gibbs lies alone in his warm bed, listening as she makes coffee in the kitchen and calls DiNozzo who doesn't seem too keen on spending his Saturday morning at work. He lifts his arms over his head and links his fingers behind his head as he stares at the ceiling. The dull ache in his groin is starting to recede but it leaves behind a hopeful expectation that slowly begins to swell throughout his entire body.

Katie Todd is probably the best medicine he could ever have hoped for.

"Okay!" she calls excitedly from the other room: "It's ready!"

"Okay," he calls back absently, adjusting his glasses as he continues reading her report on the recent theft of navy funds.

"Gibbs!" she huffs, appearing in the doorway, her smile expectant and her manner impatient: "Come on!"

"I'm reading," he protests, indicating her report and peering at her over the frames of his glasses. "You forgot to spellcheck again, by the way," he points out, flicking over a page.

"I did not," she pouts, stealing the report from his hands and throwing it aside.

"Hey!" he grumbles as she slips behind his chair and pushes him out of the room.

"There is nothing wrong with my spelling," she tells him confidently as she wheels him toward the open basement door: "It's your eyesight that needs checking. How old is that prescription anyway?"

He takes off his glasses and tucks them into his shirt pocket. He is about to answer her with a sharp retort when they enter the basement door and he sees what she has been doing while he was preoccupied.

The room below is lit solely with dozens of candles of all shapes, sizes, colors and scents. She has set them on the benches, on the stairs, on the floor and anywhere else they would fit. His workbench is spread with a checkered red picnic rug that's decked out with a bottle of red wine, a plate of cold chicken and salad and a basket of fresh bread. She has even set up a CD player to play some of Abby's sultry jazz. And beneath the upturned frame of his boat, she has created a makeshift bed of couch cushions, pillows and blankets.

She smiles down at him and picks up one of the crutches she acquired during the day. "Ready?" she asks softly.

"Yeah," he replies after a moment, swallowing the tightness at the back of his throat.

With strong arms and sure hands, she helps him to his feet then carefully tucks the crutch under his left arm. She ducks under his other arm, positioning it across her shoulders and acting as his crutch on the opposite side. Glancing up at him, she slips her arm around his back.

They both take a breath and focus their eyes forward as they begin to take the steep flight of stairs one at a time. The crutch digs into his armpit and Kate grips him tightly as they take the first step down. He wobbles as he brings both feet together but Kate steadies him easily, her grip on him increasing.

His legs feel stiff and inept -- it's not like walking on flat ground with a mat beneath him. But calling on all the strength and will in his being, he takes another step and another, ignoring the burning pain that starts to steadily infuse his confused muscles.

After five steps, his hand is gripping Kate's shoulder so hard that he knows he must be hurting her. There is a light sweat spilling out on his brow and the hand that grips the crutch is starting to cramp. His breathing is becoming ragged as he takes another step, but Kate's voice reaches him through his strain, encouraging him intermittently in a hushed tone.

By the tenth step though, he can feel a shooting spasm making its way up his left leg. With a tight grimace and strangled howl, he falls back in pain. Kate goes down under his weight as well and the wooden crutch clatters jarringly against the wall. He bends back, clutching his thigh as his left leg quakes uncontrollably.

"It's okay…" Kate sighs soothingly, running her cool hands over his hot face and tense body: "Just breathe…"

She moves down a step and lifts his leg onto her lap, massaging and stroking the muscles until the pain subsides. His body relaxes little by little and he peers down at her warily, one hand running over his face. Kate gazes up at him, her eyes concerned but steadfast.

"Happens sometimes," he tells her, his voice drained and chagrined.

Kate nods slowly, her hands continuing to smooth up and down his tortured leg. Briefly, she leans down and kisses his knee through his pants then turns to look at the remaining stairs.

"Only six to go," she tells him gently: "Over halfway there."

"Uh…" he groans, already worrying about the trip back up: "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, Kate."

Kate looks down for a moment, watching her hands caress his leg. "You want to see your boat, don't you?" she murmurs, raising her eyebrows and meeting his gaze. She tosses her head at the food and the wine, adding lightly: "And what about dinner?"

Gibbs closes his eyes, letting his head drop back and feeling his breath start to even out. He feels her shift closer to him, perching next to him on the step and leaning close, her arms snaking about his big body.

"Come on, Gibbs…." she whispers, her eyes closed as she rests her forehead against his cheek: "…I know you can do this… I know you can."

He wants to. He wants to do it for her almost as much as he wants it for himself. The pain is not unbearable – he's known worse. And though he hates being seen like this by her -- by Kate, of all people – every single day, he can't help but gain more and more strength from her never flinching presence and faith.

Something still holds him back though, something old and stubborn.

"I'll tell you what," she murmurs, clearing her throat: "I'll make you a deal, Marine," she offers, her voice light and breathy in his ear. She pulls back to look at him, one hand skating down his chest.

He opens an eye and peers at her, recognizing the sly change of tone in her voice: "What kinda deal?"

"Well.…" she starts, licking her lips and peering at him from under her eyelashes: "If you make it to the boat…" she muses, her voice rich with amusement and mischief. "…. you can kiss me…." she leans in close, her lips grazing his flesh as she delivers her promise right into his eager ear: "anywhere you want."

Gibbs gulps, his eyebrows lifting and his brain beginning to fire. "Anywhere?" he mutters skeptically, his heart rate picking up as his eyes drop down over her frame.

Kate shifts even closer and looks him straight in the eye. "Anywhere," she assures him, her manner coy but resolute.

Gibbs hums in interest, his hand drifting up her back and into her hair. He tries to tug her forward but Kate resists, pulling away slightly. She tilts her head back and looks down her nose at him, a challenge in her twinkling eyes.

"Do we have a deal?" she murmurs, lifting her eyebrows expectantly.

Gibbs narrows glimmering eyes at her: "Oh, we have a deal," he nods, a smug smirk appearing at the corner of his lips.

"Good," Kate smiles in satisfaction, holding his gaze as one big hand reaches out to carefully caress her cheek.

"Like I could resist an offer like that," he mutters, his eyes brimming with heat and affection.

Kate stares at him a moment, her smile wanning, then she finally asks: "Ready?"

"Yeah," he nods, taking a breath and holding onto her as he gets to his feet again.

His left knee buckles slightly under him but he pulls himself upright, tucking the crutch under his right armpit. They move slowly and in silence, only the jazz counting the minutes. The last few stairs are easy in comparison to the first. Kate's challenge provides a welcome distraction for his mind as his body pushes through the pain and discomfort of walking again.

The thought of his open mouth caressing her inner thigh or her lower back or her pillowy breast makes the pain slip away into obscurity. And the idea that even seeing him like this, she might still want him as much as he wants her – that makes any discomfort utterly irrelevant.

The sight and the feel of his own foot hitting the concrete floor of his basement fills his being with satisfaction and accomplishment. He looks up, glancing around him at the familiar space with new eyes. It looks the same -- and different. He hasn't seen it from this perspective in many months.

"Need your chair?" Kate asks gingerly, gazing up at him as he stalls momentarily.

"No," he replies lowly, a little smile lifting his lips: "No, I'm good," he nods and looks down at her, tucked beneath his arm: "I can make it."

They shuffle across the floor to his boat and the bed Kate has set up beneath it. He reaches out a hand as they draw nearer, touching the smooth, dusty wood with the flat of his palm. Something old and basic sparks within him and his smile grows a little stronger.

They find it a little awkward to lower his body onto the ground and underneath the craft. His feet slip as he tries to support himself with his arms and Kate giggles as she tries to hold him up. After several adjustments, he falls back onto the low bed with a grunt, Kate collapsing by his side in a fit a gasping laughter.

"You think this is funny?" he asks, glaring down at her in mock disapproval.

"A little, yeah," she giggles, tossing her hair out of her eyes as she looks up at him.

He humphs and adjusts his head on the pillow with relief. Kate's dark eyes dance at him as she arranges herself against his side, propping her chin on his shoulder. His eyes slowly span the incomplete structure of his boat curving imposingly above their makeshift bed.

"So…." he mutters after a moment: "I made it to the boat."

Kate grins, proud and amused: "You certainly did."

"So…" he mutters again, tucking her hair behind her ear: "your offer still stand?"

"Of course, Gibbs," Kate retorts, her manner sly and appalled: "I don't go back on my word,"

His eyes skate down over her reclining frame, still trying to pick the perfect place: "Glad to hear it," he muses, lowly.

"Where…" she asks carefully, shifting closer and averting her eyes: "…do you want to kiss me?"

He curls a hand about the nape of her neck and pulls her into him. Kate shifts up a bit, her eyes wide and curious as he draws her face nearer his. He stops when her ear is hovering just over his mouth and he holds her there. He smoothes her hair behind her ear and whispers his desire in a deep, deliberate, lust-laced voice.

Slowly, Kate pulls back, an immediate blush painting her cheeks. Her eyes meet his, skitter away, then meet his again. She licks her lips in anticipation and lowers her mouth over his.

"Let's make our way there," she whispers, soft and sensuous.

Her lips capture his, pulling gently and lapping the tip of her tongue over his tingling flesh. Gibbs groans, closing his eyes and lying back as her sweet mouth seduces his with his every perfect desire. His hands tangle in her hair, holding her close and relishing her attentions.

Even with all the kissing they've done recently, he still isn't quite used to the thrill of her, the taste of her, the touch of his Kate.

She pulls back and sits up a little. Taking a breath, her fingers slowly start on the buttons of his shirt. She doesn't evade his gaze as he studies her intently.

There's something ambiguous burning in the depths of her eyes that Gibbs has only ever glimpsed before. There seems to be a question beneath her composed and gentle demeanor; there seems to be something she's asking of him and he suspects it has to do with their pillow talk that morning.

Kate is going to call him on it, he realizes with a shock thrill. She's ready to push the boundaries of their relationship further. She's probably been ready for some time, he admits. But this morning was the first time he has ever come right out and said he has more to give.

And thanks to her, it's true -- he has more to give than he imagined he ever would.

His eyes are warm and direct as she watches him, slowly continuing to unbutton his shirt and reveal his chest. They may have played with each other's bodies beneath bed sheets and scant articles of clothing. They may have sleepily strayed into more sexual territory on many occasions when they shared his bed.

But they have never undressed each other. They have never seen with their own eyes each other's nakedness. They have never given themselves true, free reign to touch, kiss, explore and make love.

He knows that Kate understands his limitations and is sensitive to them. But he'd be lying if he said he doesn't want to break their self-imposed boundaries as well. There is nothing he wants more than to feel her touch on his skin, to see her body bereft of clothing and to give her what she seems to be demanding so silently of him tonight.

She leans down, pushing the halves of his shirt to each side and beginning to move her mouth over his chest with talent and tenderness and curiosity. She lets her lips just drift across his skin with the lightest touch, kissing randomly as her hands move in smooth circles, her fingers combing through his silver chest hair.

He can't help but sigh at the reverence and hunger with which she explores his upper body, her eyes captivated by each inch of him. He gazes down at her, his chest expanding strongly beneath her hands and lips and his own eyes entirely captivated by her.

She flicks her eyes up to his face, both hands gliding up his chest so that her palms cover his nipples. She bites her lip, her chest falling unevenly.

"Is this okay?" she whispers tentatively.

He nods dumbly, gulping as he reaches out to stroke her hair. Kate smiles softly then ducks her head, eagerly going back to her exploration of his torso. She kisses wetly down the center of him, her long hair dripping silkily over his skin as she descends.

Her hands drift up and down his sides as she spends a long time licking and kissing the area around his belly button. He squirms under her, the gentleness of her attentions excruciating. He doesn't realize that one hand has drifted down to stroke between his legs until he looks down and sees it.

She's staring at his comatose sex intently as she caresses him through his pants. He can barely feel a thing. His spine stiffens and he reaches down to grasp her hand at the wrist. Kate looks up abruptly, flushed and concerned.

He shakes his head and glances down: "I can't feel that," he croaks lamely.

Kate doesn't respond for a short moment. "But I can," she answers eventually, her voice small and questioning: "I just want to touch you…"

"I can't feel it," he repeats, staring up at the ceiling and feeling discomfort encroach on what was becoming so perfect.

He's not sure how to make her understand. He craves her touch so much. Too much. Having it and not being able to really feel it is like a thirsty man in a desert, unable to drink the most beautiful water from the lushest mirage.

But he doesn't have to explain. Kate accepts the boundary he has set and easily diverts their course. Picking up one of his hands, she holds it to her chest, palm down, right above her left breast.

"How about this?" she whispers, her eyes awash with hope and want: "Can you feel this?" she asks quietly, pressing his palm into her racing heartbeat.

He looks at his hand on her chest, then her face watching his. "Yeah," he answers hoarsely, after a moment.

Carefully and without disconnecting their eye contact, she moves up onto her knees slightly, parting her thighs and pressing his hand into the brimming heat underneath her black skirt.

"And what about that?" she gasps, her whole body straining towards him in titillation: "You feel that, Gibbs?"

"Yeah," he mutters, forgetting his own ineptitude as he feels the waves of heat pouring off her eager body. "Yeah, I can feel you, Katie," he assures her, stroking between her legs and watching her squirm at his touch.

Kate sighs languidly, her eyelids fluttering and her lips relaxing into a small smile. He can't reach her properly like this though and he can't see her the way he really wants to. This beautiful woman he has known for years and been sharing his bed with for a few wonderful weeks is unmistakably turned on and he knows exactly what he needs to do about it.

"Sit on me, Kate," he urges, withdrawing the hand between her legs.

Kate peers at him dubiously and he nods shortly. She doesn't need further encouragement, rising fully onto her knees and hitching up her skirt so that she can carefully sling one leg over his body. He urges her closer, so that her thighs are hugging his waist. He can feel her better there and he can reach her better. Kate looks uncertain and doesn't dare to put any weight down on his body.

"This okay?" she whispers gingerly.

"More than okay," he replies lowly, looking her over.

Her eyes are sparkling and her cheeks are flushed. Her clothes are twisted and her hair mussed. He's not sure he's ever seen her more beautiful. She adjusts herself on him, relaxing slightly and smoothing her hands up his naked chest.

His hands begin to rove over her curves, caressing her hips beneath the sheer material of her shirt and grazing the sides of her breasts through her little sweater. Kate moans and bites her lip impatiently. She grasps one of his hands and before he knows it, his fingers are sliding into her heat.

Kate sighs and smiles, rocking against him slowly. She holds the length of her black skirt bunched against her waist so he can see himself slip another finger over the lowered trim of her panties and into her steaming sex. Her unique and powerful scent wafts up into his nostrils and he feels the effect of it down to his bones.

"You're so wet," he mutters in amazement, watching his hand move between her white panties and her dark curls.

"Yeah…" she sighs, her hips pressing forward to receive his caresses.

"You're so turned on," he muses, his eyes climbing back up her body to her flushed face.

"For you…" she murmurs, writhing on his hand as her eyes burn down into his.

"How long," he asks softly, watching her with rapt eyes: "have you needed this?"

Kate tips her head back and arches her back, whispering hotly: "Always."

"Take off your top, Kate," he murmurs suddenly, his voice smooth and low.

Her head drops forward again and she peers down at him for a moment in silence.

"I wanna look at you," he tells her, his other hand squeezing her clothed waist: "I wanna see all of you."

Her hands immediately move to the hem of her pink sweater and with a little smile, she lifts it over her head. She pulls it off her arms and drops it, her hair settling back on her shoulders. Then she pauses for a moment, watching his eyes drift down over her exposed skin.

He waits impatiently to see whether she will remove her bra as well and after a moment, she slowly reaches behind her back. Her eyes hold his and notice his pleased smile as she peels away the lacy cups to leave her naked from the waist up.

She breathes deeply as she gazes down at him, beautiful and bare, her breasts round and full and her nipples soft and fat. She can see from the way his eyes trace her shape how much he appreciates what he sees. And when his eyes return to hers, after a thorough visual examination, one very deliberate finger beckons her closer.

Kate smiles as she leans down over him, her swaying mounds enveloping his face. He pulls her lips to his and kisses her mouth first, his free hand skating down her spine before he moves lower to taste the newly revealed territory of her chest.

Ravished little cries emit from her throat as his hands work her steadily and his mouth begins to relearn what a woman wants. He nuzzles and bites her, tongues and sucks her, stroking her clit as she moves against his hand.

"Ah… Gibbs," she sighs, suspended above him in glorious passion: "please…"

"What?" he murmurs, looking up into her dreamy, desperate face: "What do you want, Kate?"

"Put your fingers in me," she answers almost immediately, her eyes slipping shut: "I wanna feel you move inside me…"

His wet fingers immediately slide to her entrance. Her head drops down beside his and his nose burrows into the hollow behind her ear, whispering sweet nothings and sniffing her chocolate hair. Her folds and valleys are well oiled by his exploration and he spreads them wide with two fingers, circling her entrance with another. He kisses her collarbone and Kate leans back slightly, allowing him to kiss his way over to one nipple and take it into his mouth.

Then carefully, he slips his finger into her.

The feeling is sensational and being able to experience it for the first time without any distraction amazes him. He is entirely focussed on Kate, on what she feels like, sounds like, smells like; on what she wants, needs, responds to. It's the most intimate moment he can ever remember giving and receiving. He tries to memorize every detail, including the way her inner walls pulse around his digit and the way her sweet tit tastes on his tongue and the way she seems to want him so, so much.

"That feel good, Katie?" he asks, pushing further into her with his finger.

"Yeah," she sighs, planting her hands by his head and staring down at him like some sex goddess in training.

"Want more?" he asks with a sly grin as he tweaks her nipple with two fingers and scratches the sides of her pussy with his others.

Kate jolts and melts over him: "Oh yeah," she nods eagerly.

"Good," he mutters, slipping his other hand up to her face and brushing her wet lips with his thumb: "…‘cause I've got plans for you, my Katie. Many, many, many plans…."

"Ready when you are," she breathes, her voice lilting slightly with mirth.

Her brow knits as he withdraws the finger inside her then she sighs with satisfaction when he pushes back into her tightness with two fingers instead. The little sounds of a woman nearing complete arousal start emanating from her throat, unbidden and uncontrolled.

He pumps her softly with two thick fingers, his thumb swiping intermittently over her swollen clitoris. Kate sighs and sits back on him, closing her eyes as she begins to ride his submerged hand, slow and deep. He watches her every move, her every pulse, his attention close and intimate as his other hand persists with the arousal of her throbbing breasts.

His fingers tease her tight nipples, keeping them erect and pinching their sensitive tips. Kate moans with the tiny pressure, her hands softly caressing the arms that reach out to propel her higher and higher into ecstasy. She's so open to him, so unabashedly lost in his touch and attention, so completely abandoned to her body's impulses that it's stunning to witness.

He doesn't know why they waited so long to feel this; he doesn't know how he resisted so long the urge to touch her. It feels so natural, so perfect, so utterly satisfying.

As her movements become more urgent and a little crease appears on her forehead, he begins thrusting inside her faster and circling her clit more regularly. It seems to do the trick. Within a minute, she is panting on top of him, her head thrown back, her mouth open and her undulating body preparing for release.

One hand grips his where he is pleasuring her, while her other hand teases her free breast, twisting the nipple between fierce fingers. He watches avidly, increasing his own grip on her twin turgid nub and hearing her cry out in approval and rapture.

A moment later she comes, her cry loud and her orgasm intense as she continues riding his big hand. Her entire body quivers and her sweet cunt spasms around his fingers, her pelvis pumping and her thighs shaking and her back arching in a symphony of unbridled movement.

In the last few moments, she opens her eyes and looks down on him. The crease in her forehead disappears and the soft vulnerability in her dazed eyes nearly takes his breath away. A second later, she collapses over him, her chest pressing to his and anointing him with sweat as her face falls into the hollow of his shoulder.

For a long while, she puffs against him as she comes down, attempting to regain her equilibrium after her flight into carnality. Gingerly, she shifts her hips, trying not to place all her weight on his body. Gibbs strokes her back and pushes her hair out of her clammy, hot face. Kate gulps in a mouthful of air and kisses his jaw.

"Wow…" she mutters wearily, slumped against him.

He starts to respond smugly: "That's what--"

"Don't say it!" she remarks sharply, her voice still betraying some after-effects of languor.

She raises her head to look at him, her face and hair a picture of hazy completion and heady sexuality. He smirks at her thoughtfully, tracing her chin with one finger.

"I'd agree with ‘Wow'," he nods, leaning in to kiss her. "That was incredible…" he tells her quietly, holding her chin and scanning the face of his young lover: "You were incredible."

Kate flops against him, smiling into his neck: "You were," she mumbles faintly, nuzzling his stubble: "thank you…"

"Oh, I'm not done with you yet," he rumbles lowly, rubbing her back with his palm. His other hand, now at rest between her thighs, cups her mound and squeezes encouragingly.

Kate blinks up at him: "Oh?"

"Not even close," he tells her teasingly, his gaze dropping to devour her parted lips.

"In that case," she muses, carefully pushing herself up onto her hands and knees: "I'm going to need a little sustenance."

She rises to her feet, nearly bumping her head on the hull of his boat and using its ribs to steady her still quaking body. She shuffles over to his workbench and reaches for the bread, her movements still slow and lax. Gibbs watches from afar – hungry as well, but not for what she's having.

Breaking off a crusty morsel, she nibbles at one corner and simultaneously pours herself a large glass of wine. Her breasts sway slightly as she wanders back towards him, standing half-naked and unashamed at his feet. She dunks the bread into the red wine and shoves it in her mouth, moaning at the taste combination. Then she tips the wineglass up to her lips, never breaking eye contact with him as she takes a long sip. Her other hand absently dusts the remaining crumbs off on her skirt.

Gibbs tucks his hands behind his head and watches her with a light buried in his avid, blue eyes. He's never seen Kate behave so inelegantly. He feels rather privileged to witness it. And it's sexy as hell watching the breadcrumbs decorate her chest and the dark wine stain her already plump lips.

He has always found the urge in women to eat after an orgasm rather curious and erotic. But this is a fucking wet dream come true. After a long moment of observing her post-orgasm splendor, he clears his throat.

His voice breaks through a rambling piano solo, ordering huskily "Loose the skirt."

Kate stalls, licking her fingers and raising her eyebrows. "Do I get a ‘please'?" she responds haughtily.

"Take it off, Kate," he insists, his eyes glowing with feral expectation. "Please," he adds darkly.

Kate tips her head to one side, pretending to decide whether to obey his desirous directive. Then calmly, she lowers her hand to the side zip and drags it down. With an effortless flick of her wrist, the skirt falls noiselessly to the floor and she kicks it away with one foot.

His eyes travel over her, taking in the newly revealed spectacle before him – the delicate curve of her hips, the smooth surface of her belly, the lightly freckled legs and the slightly askew panties that so lately welcomed his diving fingers. He focuses in on her apex, longing to see what lies beneath the crumpled white cotton.

"Those too," he demands lowly, then flicks his eyes up to her face: "Please."

Kate smirks a little, takes a slow sip of wine, then with her free hand, she slides the panties down her slim legs and kicks them off too. She straightens, taking a deep breath and meeting his eyes. She stands before him clad in only a string of white pearls and a pair of black heels, with her half-empty wineglass still in her hand and some stray sawdust adorning her tousled hair.

"Now, that's a sight worth living for," he tells her in a warm, deep tone, his gaze memorizing her every inch.

Kate smiles, slightly self-conscious, but doesn't look away. She holds his intent gaze, despite her stunning exposure.

"Come closer," he beckons quietly.

Kate complies immediately and he watches with intense interest the way her nakedness moves. He knows her particular shape and movement and her body's mannerisms so well -- but he's never observed them quite like this. Her low heels squelch on the cement as she negociates the ribs of the boat and steps up his body, her feet landing either side of his knees.

"Closer," he urges with a sly smile.

Kate never drops his gaze, her chest beginning to fall more heavily. Her movements are slow and trance-like and her legs part further to reveal her juicy core as she stands over him, her feet stopping either side of his waist.

He smiles lazily and lowers his voice: "Closer."

He sees her take a breath, gradually moving further up his body. One arm reaches up to brace against wooden arc overhead and help her balance. Her hair falls about her face as she gazes down on him, silent and serene on the surface while a wild fire swells underneath. She stops with her heels digging into the blanket either side of his pillow, her secret scent sweeping over him in soft, earthy waves.

"How's this?" she asks breathily.

A worn, warm hand curls around her ankle as he gazes up at her. All of her.

"Perfect," he sighs, his tone resoundingly emphatic.

"What now?" she inquires after a moment, arching an eyebrow at his satisfied expression.

His mouth lifts in one corner. "Kneel," he tells her, in an expectant drawl.

Kate hesitates briefly, a shy smile flashing across her face. Her hand shakes slightly as she hands down her wineglass to him. His smile increases as he swallows a large sip, his eyes dropping to examine the glistening sex hovering so temptingly above him.

He studies her momentarily, his eyes noting the way her slim legs and sleek abdomen frame her sweet sex so perfectly, and the way her fleshy petals peek boldly through her dark bush. He takes another large swallow of tart wine, his hand gliding up from her ankle to her knee and down again as he takes her in.

Then, he lifts his eyes to her face, relishing the swelling heat and barely restrained anticipation within her eyes as she slowly sinks to her knees. Setting aside the wine, his hands smooth up over her thighs as she settles on him, her legs generously parted and her soft ass coming to rest against his upper chest.

She feels incredible. She looks incredible. Half the fun of doing this is how it looks and Gibbs can't tear his eyes away. He can't believe he has her naked, on top of him, aroused and obeying his every wish. And right underneath his boat, no less – it's a dream of gigantic proportions come vividly to life and at this moment, he doesn't care that he can't make love to her with his full body.

This blows his jaded mind. This makes his heart beat and brag. This makes his life worth living again. This makes his body feel more alive than ever.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs smoothly, reaching up to kiss her inner thigh.

Her flesh quivers slightly and Kate lets out a soft sigh. His hands glide over her curves, investigating the globes of her ass and the plane of her stomach. His eyes follow as he strokes her waist and gently fondles both her throbbing breasts. Kate closes her eyes, pushing her flesh into the rough cups of his hands and moaning when he scrapes his thumbnails over her rapidly stiffening peaks.

"Gibbs," she breathes, her eyes slipping shut as she presses against him: "Gibbs…"

The color in her cheeks is turning violently red and her tongue slides out to wet her open lips. He runs his tongue up the inside of her other thigh, giving her nipples another little taste of pleasurable pain. Her hands cover his on her breasts, happily receiving their torture as he begins to kiss all around the area of her juncture.

Kate looks down at him with a languid smile, watching him take what he asked for, what he earned, exactly what he's always wanted. She tastes amazing under his tongue as he nips and sucks with increasing relish, his mouth discovering a will all its own.

He holds her eyes as he kisses her fragrant curls then deliberately slips his tongue between her folds. Her mouth drops open and her whole body stalls for a moment, lost in the silky sensation. He licks her again, dragging the tip of his tongue over her clit.

"Oh, yes…" she whispers, her greedy pussy trying to follow the caress.

His hands move from her breasts down to her hips, his thumbs tracing the line of her hipbone. Her breasts heave as she pants roughly, awaiting another lick. He smiles up at her flushed, enthralled face, soothing her burning flesh with his palms.

"Feel good…?" he asks lowly.

"Yeah," she sighs, squirming in her aroused haze.

"If I keep doing that," he murmurs, his voice deceptively composed: "will you come for me again, Katie?"

"Oh, yeah," she nods, her eyes slipping shut and her head dropping back.

He takes the opportunity to open her with his fingers and lap her suddenly with his tongue. Kate shouts at the ceiling rafters, dangling above him like a rag doll. One arm swings behind her to balance herself on his body and push her pussy closer to his mouth.

"I love this," he tells her, from his position between her legs: "I love seeing you like this."

He opens her wider, her folds sticky with musky nectar. He inspects her for a moment then leans in for another long lick, finishing with an open, suckling kiss to her clit. Kate shivers and moans, her sounds becoming more excited and more unbridled.

"I could eat you all night," he tells her with a savage grin, stretching one hand up to her face.

He cups her jaw and slips his thumb into the corner of her mouth. Kate grasps his wrist and sucks enthusiastically on his wet digit. His other hand dips deeper to massage the entrance to her body.

"Maybe I will," he muses hotly, watching the passionate poetry of her body's natural instincts overtake her.

His hand withdraws from her mouth and Kate gives his fingers a parting kiss as they dive down her torso, stroking her breast and abdomen and hip. He continues teasing her dripping hole for a moment, just watching the flushed brilliance of her face. Then, he curls an arm about her ass and tugs her closer, beginning his assault in earnest.

He sucks at her pussy lips and flicks his tongue over her bulging bundle of nerves as Kate cries out continually, her mouth open, her eyes shut, her body rocking and her head released. He drinks her essence, lapping at her until his tongue can get some friction on her slippery flesh. He cleans every inch of her sex, moaning with pleasure, as her petals swell and open to his mouth-watering misdeeds.

When he's lapped up all her moisture, he gives her three long, strong licks of his coarse tongue, which makes her shout even louder, before he shoves his tongue into her tight opening. Kate pants uncontrollably as he begins moving his tongue in and out of her, teasing her to ecstasy. She undulates above him, dripping all over his face, her orgasm nipping at her black-encased heels.

She sweeps both arms behind her, arching back as she scrapes her fingernails up his chest over and over. He feels the arousal course through his body and slam him in the gut. His head swirls and his heart thumps in his chest. If he could've come, at that point he probably would've.

He eases two fingers inside her cunt, their progress lubricated by her intense stimulation. Her body goes still and slack all of a sudden and he watches her accept the thick pressure inside her. She's close now, very close.

He wiggles his fingers inside her, lightly massaging her G-spot. Kate moans and assaults his chest again with her fingernails. Goosebumps rise on his skin and his free hand slips round to squeeze the globes of her bobbing ass.

He pumps his fingers inside her, pushing in deep and slow as his mouth covers her clit, stabbing at the little bud with the tip of his tongue. She cries out, rubbing her pussy into his face and begging for more and more torment. He holds fast to his rhythm, not too fast, but not too slow. Just enough to make her gradually bloom into a melting bliss.

Kate shouts as a sudden spasm wracks her body, hurling her forward. Her hands fly to the frame of the boat, grabbing onto the wood as she kneels over him, his face buried in her lush sex. Her breasts bob as she holds tightly to the boat, thrusting mindlessly against his mouth and fingers, her skin glowing with a light sheen in the candlelight.

Gibbs withdraws his fingers then quickly plunges three back inside her, making her groan loudly with the delicious stretch. His mouth starts to suck at her clit, scraping his teeth over her in time to her movements. Her cries escalate and, with his name shouted towards the heavens, she begins to come.

Her velvety walls squeeze his fingers and her clit vibrates against his lips and her whole body arches and shudders over him. Her hips try to pull away from the intense stimulation but he wraps his free arm around her ass and hauls her closer. Her hands slap the raw wood as he keeps finger-fucking her, biting her pulsing clit to make her shout and moan in continuous, excruciating rapture.

She pants and melts into him, slumping into a boneless, red-faced heap as she finally finishes. She catches herself as she falls forward, one hand reaching under her to hazily stroke his rumpled hair.

She remains on all fours for a long moment, attempting to catch her breath. Gibbs extracts his fingers from her warm sheath and strokes her thighs and ass with his palms, reveling in the last intimacy of the moment. He reaches up and kisses her stomach as she hangs over him in a gasping stupor.

Eventually, she wiggles back on him and collapses by his side, her body loose and clumsy. She sighs deeply, her chest expanding as her breath starts to return to normal. Her eyelashes brush his chest hair as she snuggles close, kissing his collarbone.

Gibbs lies still, staring upwards, luxuriating in the sensations coursing through his own body. He became so focused on her, on her passion, on her pleasure, that he forgot to take notice of the changes in his own body chemistry.

They weren't huge but they were certainly tangible. He can feel…God, he can really feel – the blood in his veins, the life in his body, the arousal in his pants.

"Kate?" he mutters hesitantly after a long moment.

"Huuhhmm?" she hums idly.

He takes a breath, shifting his hips a little: "Gotta tell you something."

"Yeah?" she sighs, running a hand over his chest.

He clears his throat and rumbles lowly: "I'm hard."

"….What?" she breathes, looking up from his chest.

He looks down at her, her cheeks still pink and her eyes glowing. "That--" he tells her hoarsely, leaning into kiss her ear: "You…made me hard."

Her lips part slightly in amazement and she glances downwards. "How hard?" she questions quietly.

He smiles and shifts beneath her again. "Feel for yourself," he volunteers smugly, seeing her eyes light up with interest.

She hesitates though, probably because of his earlier warning. She stares down at him, biting her lip uncertainly. There is not enough stiffness to be evident through his blue jeans and he does want her to feel what she does to him. So he reaches down, tugging at the zipper -- then he picks up her hand.

He slips it into his pants, watching as both their hands disappear under his boxers. His fingers tighten around hers and she cups him gently, feeling the conclusive evidence of her power over him. His body has betrayed mild responses to her nearness before – but nothing like this.

This was true proof of life; this was the beginnings of a real hard-on. And neither of them could help an idiotic smile. It's actually happening, -- his nerves are repairing, his muscles are strengthening, his bones are coming back to life and so is his heart. Slowly but surely, he is going to get back his life – even better than it was before.

Kate leans in to kiss him, her mouth warm and pleased: "Well, that's a nice surprise," she murmurs impishly.

"It's a start," he grins lopsidedly, enjoying the promise of life pulsating in his lower regions.

"I'll say," she muses under her breath. She nestles back against his side, her hand lazily petting the organ between his legs until it starts to deflate.

The sensations he feels are odd and diffused. He can't exactly feel her touch or obtain much pleasure, but the intimacy is worth the exposure. This is their shared journey now and, at the moment, he is content to just enjoy the last remnants of her arousal-- and his, in candlelit silence.

He has made love to Kate Todd. Not in the conventional sense -- but it still feels like a completion of their knowledge of and feelings for each other. Somehow, it feels just as significant and just as powerful as being joined with her bodily.

He knows in his gut that the day he can finally make love to her with his whole body is now well within reach. And, judging by the night's erotic events, Kate's whispered promise to him that morning was perfectly correct. When it finally happens for them, it will be nothing short of spectacular.

Kate rolls onto her side, snuggling against her pillow contently as she listens to Gibbs brush his teeth in the adjoining bathroom. Light floods from the open doorway and slants across their bed. Her freshly washed sheets feel heavenly against her skin as she shifts a little closer to his side of the bed.

She's very tired, her eyelids droop lazily but she's not ready to let go of this day quite yet. In truth, she is a little afraid to fall asleep and wake to find it all a marvelous dream. She's scared of waking alone again in her empty bed and moving through her day silently pining for a man who she believed for a long time would never feel about her the way she felt about him.

But that's all over now. The evidence is right in front of her. She holds it in her hand, so to speak.

She still can't believe what he did. She still can't believe how he did it. In some ways, they have building towards this incrementally and in others, it has come as a complete shock to her. But not an unwelcome one.

She yawns and closes her eyes, once again reliving the moment in her mind – possibly the most important moment of her whole life. For as long as she lives, she will never forget it.

She will never forget exactly where she'd been standing, exactly what he'd been wearing, and the strange, stirring hush that had gradually infused the NCIS squad room when Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, once more walked into it on his own two slightly unsteady feet.

She'd been on the staircase landing, discussing a case with Director Morrow when the elevator dinged and the atmosphere in the bustling office instantly altered. She turned, as everyone did, to see what was happening. And she saw her boss and lover step out onto the floor, upright and unassuming, a wooden cane grasped in his right hand, supporting him with every step.

Everyone silenced as their collective gaze turned on the returning hero. Kate smiled softly, the emotion rising in her chest as she watched two older agents step forward to shake his hand and mumble a few words of welcome. Then Gibbs continued on his way, slow but steady in his movements. His body displayed signs of stiffness and strain as he moved. But even from a distance, Kate could also see his former vigor beneath; she could already see his confident stride returning.

Ignoring the obvious response that his entrance had caused, Gibbs scanned the room with his eyes. He found her standing on the landing, stunned and riveted, and when their eyes met, Kate felt her entire face light up with pride and awe and love. Gibbs smiled crookedly and sent her a little wink. Her smile widened into a laugh and she felt all the attention in the office suddenly transfer to her.

She couldn't take her eyes off him, but from the corner of her eye she noticed Abby rush into the room and stand off to the side with Ducky, no doubt as amazed as the rest of them. They all watched as Gibbs slowly strode into their work area and warmly accepted Tony's and McGee's outstretched hands.

After a few words with the two younger agents, his gaze quickly returned to Kate. He faced her, standing straight and tall in the middle of the floor and, with one finger beckoned her to him. Shaking herself from her daze, Kate mumbled something to the Director then quickly made her way down the stairs, hardly able to tear her eyes from his striking frame.

She strode up to him, acutely aware of the observing eyes of their friends and colleagues and clueless as to what was to come next. But her eyes connected with his and the love she saw mirrored in those unusual blue depths, took away all anxiety and self-consciousness within her.

It was amazing to see him upright again, dressed handsomely in a blue shirt and black suit. He'd had his hair cut too and had shaved. Gibbs' general appearance had been rather shaggy of late and Kate hadn't seen him in a proper suit in months. He looked just like the old Gibbs – only with something very new and special shinning in his old eyes. She knew she had helped to put it there.

"Sorry to put you on the spot," he muttered as she approached, glancing around the stock-still squad room.

She stopped in front of him and swallowed, her cheeks starting to burn with embarrassment and emotion. Glancing to one side, she saw Tony and McGee huddled together, both grinning widely. Over Gibbs' shoulder, she noticed Abby's face fixed in an expression of sheer suspense while next to her, Ducky looked quietly proud and utterly unsurprised.

"--but I need to ask you something," Gibbs continued, his voice low and conspiratorial, a little smile playing over his lips: "and it couldn't wait."

Kate raised her eyebrows and blinked up at him, speechless. Gibbs smiled down at her for a moment then turned suddenly to her curious colleagues.

"Tony," Gibbs summoned abruptly: "help me out here."

"Sure thing, Boss," Tony nodded, stepping forward and helping Gibbs to lower to one knee in front of her. As he withdrew, he flashed Kate a brilliant, knowing smile.

"McGee!" Gibbs called, throwing his cane up in the air.

"Got it, Boss," McGee replied, stepping forward to catch the cane in mid-air then retreating again.

"Now…." Gibbs ducked his head, patting his coat pockets with the flats of his hands: "where did I put it…?" he murmured to himself. His brow creased in confusion as he rifled through his trouser pockets, muttering: "I know I had it here somewhere…."

Kate shifted on her feet, a softly amused smile stretching across her features as she watched him. A few titters circulated the rapt crowd, which was growing by the moment. Tony leaned back on his file cabinet and exchanged a grin with McGee while Abby stifled a laugh on Ducky's shoulder.

"Try your shirt pocket," Kate suggested helpfully.

Cheeky blue eyes glanced up at her then slowly Gibbs reached inside his jacket and pulled out a little box. "Ah…" he mused lightly: "there it is."

He cleared his throat and met her eyes. Kate's expression became more serious as he held up the small box with one hand and popped its lid. She chewed her lip, gazing at its contents for a moment before speaking.

"It's empty," she told him simply, flicking her eyes back to his.

Gibbs peered into the small case and grunted: "Oh. Must've fallen out…." he muttered, reaching into his shirt pocket again and this time, pulling out a delicate, sparkling ring.

Kate lips lifted into a warm, shaky smile, her composure waning and her heart beginning to sing. She could feel the delight and the expectation from the crowd that surrounded them and she waited, holding her breath, for Gibbs to utter the magic words she'd never allowed herself to imagine.

His eyes glinted up at her for a long moment. Then he reached out and picked up her left hand in his.

"Please…?" was all he said, his voice deep and warm.

A few quiet "awwws" escaped the female agents who were watching. Tony hid a chuckle, McGee smiled brightly.

"Wow…!" Abby gasped to Ducky, her eyes shimmering with tears: "Gibbs said ‘please'!"

Ducky nodded in approval, muttering quietly to himself: "Bravo, Jethro."

Kate glanced about her, her cheeks betraying her unease. Then she leaned in, her heart thumping in her chest and her voice carrying more than a little reproach. "Well, you sure know how to embarrass a girl."

Gibbs frowned. "Not exactly the answer I was hoping for," he mused haltingly.

Kate huffed quietly and looked down at her hand still held loosely in his. She had no doubt that Gibbs knew what her answer was, otherwise he would never have chosen such a public forum to ask her such a personal question.

She gave a little shake of her head, her eyes narrowed at him. "You know very well, Jethro Gibbs," she accused, keeping her voice deceptively cool: "that I've been in love with you for years."

Gibbs peered up at her expectantly: "Years?"

"Yes, years," she confirmed shortly. Her expression softened and she leaned down, slipping her arms around his neck and admitting with a sigh: "You had me at Rule Number One."

His mouth lifted in one corner: "Is that a ‘yes'?"

Kate's face split into an open, bright grin and she nodded: "It's an ‘absolutely'."

She leant down to kiss him and the office erupted with an overwhelming clamor of cheers and chatter and applause. Even Director Morrow's stern countenance exhibited a warm smile.

Kate helped Gibbs to his feet and she watched with glistening eyes as he slipped the engagement ring on her finger. They kissed again to greater applause, Gibbs' strong arms locked tightly about her slight frame. When they broke apart, they glanced about at the commotion they had caused, smiling at all their enthusiastic well wishers.

Tony was the first to step forward and congratulate them. He gave Gibbs a hearty if uncertain hug then kissed Kate on the cheek. Abby elbowed her way through the crowd, launching herself into Gibbs arms. McGee and Tony had to steady him as Abby bestowed on him one of her fiercest hugs, babbling ecstatically into his broad shoulder.

"I'm so happy!" she wept, her voice muffled and emotional: "I'm sooooo happy for you, Gibbs."

Gibbs rubbed her back and kissed her forehead. Abby suddenly released him and transferred her intense affection onto Kate.

"And Kate! I'm so happy for you!" she sniffled, squeezing her friend tightly.

Kate laughed as she returned Abby's embrace, exchanging a look with Gibbs over her shoulder.

Pulling back, Abby began to rattle away eagerly: "You have to let me help with the wedding! Ooo, and the Hen's night!! I can totally organize that!" She looked to Gibbs, her black eye-makeup smudged and running: "And when you have kids, I'll baby-sit for you, like, all the time!! I'm an awesomely cool babysitter!"

"You'll be the first I call," Kate assured her as she gave them both another quick but tight hug.

With a few warm mumbles of congratulations and a couple of handshakes, the surrounding crowd began to disperse, returning to their normal work. Ducky moved towards the happy couple, shaking Gibbs' hand and giving Kate a proud hug.

"I'm sure you'll be very happy," he beamed at them both.

"Very happy," McGee echoed, brightly, unsure who to kiss and who to shake hands with.

"Well, they'll probably spend half the time arguing," chuffed Tony, slinging an arm about Abby: "but the make-up sex will be hot!"

Five sets of eyes turned on him in dismay and disgust. Abby stifled a snigger in the back of her throat. Ducky raised both eyebrows. McGee wagged his head at the floor.

"Did I just say that aloud?" Tony winced, whispering to McGee.

McGee nodded: "Yup."

"DiNozzooo!" Kate and Gibbs groaned, both reaching out to double-tap the back of his head.

Tony ducked, scurrying quickly behind Abby.

"I think this calls for a celebration," Ducky announced briskly: "Lunch is on me."

"Thanks, Duck," Gibbs murmured, turning with Ducky towards the elevators, one hand clutching his cane and the other holding Kate's.

"Yes! Long lunch!" Tony hissed, slinging an arm around Abby as they followed the others: "….I can sit between you and Gibbs, right?…"

The rest of the day passed, for Kate, in a blur of congratulations and high emotion. Amidst it all, Gibbs had stayed calm, holding her hand and sending her looks of amusement and warmth. She knows he feels a great pride and satisfaction at being able to claim her as his own. She sees it in his eyes.

And while she has some questions and concerns about what happens next, she has no misgivings whatsoever about the commitment they've made to each other. They have overcome so many obstacles to get here. If they need to, they can overcome a few more.

She has complete confidence in her feelings for him and knows that there is no other man on the planet who can capture her heart the way he has. He is not the man she would've imagined herself marrying. This is not the way she foresaw her life at all.

He may not be what she expected. And it will never be perfect. But Kate gave up on perfect a long time ago. It doesn't exist. And there are so many other things in life that are more interesting or more fun or more satisfying or more precious.

She hears Gibbs flick off the light to her bathroom and his footsteps on her carpet. He leaves his cane by the foot of the bed and sits down, pulling his shirt over his head. She lies still, waiting as he strips down to his boxers then climbs in beside her, fitting his larger body against her back. His legs curl up behind hers and his nose burrows into her neck.

"Night, Kate," he mumbles tiredly, shifting against her until he is comfortable.

"Night Jethro," she answers after a moment.

She opens her eyes, glancing back at him. Gibbs' eyes crack open and he smiles gently at her.

"I like the sound of that," he rumbles quietly in approval.

One hand glides up the length of her arm to cover her hand, curled on the pillow and boasting the shining evidence of his love. She squeezes his fingers and snuggles back into his warmth.

"Me too," she murmurs: "Jethro," she smiles, using the name again.

Jethro groans softly as he hugs her to him and closes his eyes: "Love you, Kate."

Kate smiles, her eyes drifting shut as she finally succumbs to sleep: "Love you, too."

There was never any question where they would spend their honeymoon. They both fell in love with Bora Bora instantly and, in their three-week stay, they've eagerly fulfilled each and every fantasy they'd both imagined about their magical island paradise.

They chose to stay in an over-water bungalow on one of the smaller islands. They wanted to feel as secluded and free as possible. For the first few days, they slopped around their open, earthy little habitat, rarely making it far out of bed. When they did go outside, they didn't venture too far.

They took lazy walks down soft, white stretches of beach, then raced each other back, ripping off their clothes as soon as they tumbled indoors again. They made slow love on the floor as tropical rain pelted onto the roof above and a sultry breeze swept in from outside. They sat in silence on the dock and gazed out over crystal clear ocean, Kate tucked under Gibbs' arm and their feet dangling into the water below.

They fought over the best deckchair, massaged each other's feet in the bathtub, ate every last thing in the over-priced minibar and wore each other's clothes. Gibbs looked particularly striking in the pink and green sarong Kate's mother had given her especially for the honeymoon.

During their second week, they became a little less reclusive and a little more proactive, trying out some of the different activities that were on offer. They went sailing, fed sharks, learnt to snorkel and even ventured as far as the other islands close by for dinner.

In their final week, they are feeling very much at home, having adapted quickly to island lifestyle. They have settled into a loose routine involving sleeping, eating, swimming making love and sun baking – although not necessarily in that order. One activity seems always to take highest precedence.

Gibbs looks around at the glittering lagoon they discovered on their morning walk and carefully wades into the turquoise water. Tall palms and fantastic ferns lean over the little bay, sheltering the red and yellow flowers that populate the water's edge. A large waterfall sprinkles lavishly downward, creating a hypnotic whisper that diffuses the humid air.

The sky is clear and blue and the water beautifully warm. Gibbs wades in further and further, feeling the water creep up his thighs and the soft sand between his toes. He holds his breath as he sneaks up on Kate who is floating on her back in the middle of the water, eyes closed, totally at peace.

Soundlessly, he ducks under the water and swims closer. From beneath the surface, he can easily spot her figure through the glassy water. He reaches out, hesitating a moment before he grabs an ankle and tugs sharply.

Kate shrieks and goes under, her body flailing briefly and her surprise muted by the water. Gibbs stands up, grinning as he watches her pull her feet under her and stand up, her hair tangled and her hands tugging at the top of her white bikini.

"Hey!!" she reprimands, smoothing her hair away from her face as he laughs: "Not funny."

"A little funny," he admits as she slaps him wetly on the shoulder.

"You gave me a fright," she mutters huffily, scowling up at him.

He reaches out and pulls her close to him. Kate reluctantly slips her arms around his neck, floating against him.

"Did you think I was a sea monster?" he asks teasingly.

"No," she sulks, lightly kicking his shins beneath the water.

"A pirate?" he asks amusedly.

"No," she pouts, peering up at him.

He lifts his brows: "A merman?"

Kate giggles: "Nooo."

He shrugs and hugs her tighter to his chest. "What can I say…?" he murmurs lowly, leaning down to nibble at her ear: "I love making you scream."

"Hmmm," Kate hums into his ear, abandoning her ire: "and you're so, so good at it."

"Well, I do what I can…" he bobs his head and pulls back to look at her as their hands drift over one another beneath the rippling water.

Her hair is disheveled and her cheeks slightly burnt from the sun and in her eyes, he can see the first stirrings of passion. He cups her face for a moment, just gazing at her, then lets his fingers drift down her neck, over her chest. Kate draws in a slow breath and his hand pauses, playing with the thin strap of her bikini top.

She doesn't shirk his gaze as he deliberately runs his fingers up and down the strip. He glances about quickly, knowing they are very much alone, then reaches up behind her neck and pulls the knot. Her chest expands as he lets the white triangles drop away from her newly tanned curves. Her little pink nipples harden in the translucent water as he caresses the side of one breast with the back of his hand.

Kate bites her lip and floats closer to him, her thigh brushing over the outside of his in the water. He takes her cue and lifts her higher, her dripping breasts leaving the water and pressing against his chest as her legs encircle him.

Her fingers drift over his jaw as he holds her, her eyes lingering lovingly over his face. Then she leans in and lays her mouth over his, her lips gentle and passionate. His hands rove over her naked, arched back as he tugs at her lips with his, moaning into her mouth.

"Katie…" he breathes, his hands taking a detour down to her ass, slipping beneath her swimmers to grab her round flesh. "Can't get enough of you…" he rumbles, kissing down her neck and heading for those sweet, peaked nipples.

"Jethro…" she sighs, reaching down between them to stroke his already hard length: "Oh…"

"Mmmmm," he groans, munching on her wet nipple. "Baby…" he mumbles, slipping one hand between her ass cheeks and over her slippery slit. "Gotta have you…." he croaks, massaging the hot, delicate wetness that simmers at her entrance: "Gotta have you…"

"Yeah…" she sighs willingly: "I need you inside me."

"Here?" he asks, a little surprised.

He pulls back to look at her, her eyes smoldering with heat and mischief. In their few weeks honeymoon, he's uncovered a little of the exhibitionist in Kate's sexuality.

Her fingers scratch up into his hair and she tilts her head back, gazing at him with a hint of challenge. "What could be more perfect?" she muses, licking her lips.

"You're on," he mutters, diving in to capture those lips.

He slips a finger into her opening and swirls it about making Kate squirm, her nakedness sliding through the water and caressing his skin like sinful silk. His free hand moves over her curves, fondling her breasts and smoothing over her ass and wrapping about her waist. Meanwhile, his other hand pulls out of her, tugging at her bikini bottoms and pushing the strip covering her sex to one side.

Kate smiles as she kisses his shoulders and bites her way across his chest. Then her head falls back and her mouth falls open as he slides easily inside her tight, sweet heat. He watches her reaction with a slight smile and immediately takes advantage of her position, tasting her stretched neck as he shoves a little further inside her welcoming body.

"Yes!" she whispers ecstatically, urging her hips into his for more.

She arches back in the water, her hair spreading out about her face. He takes a vulnerable nipple into his mouth, sucking lightly as her breasts quiver openly in the brilliant sunlight. He gives another languid shove with his hips and Kate's legs squeeze him tightly as he imbeds himself fully in her simmering core.

He gives her nipple one last bite then pulls back, standing straight in the enveloping water, supporting her with one hand holding her hip as the other runs down the middle of her body. He strokes her gently as she lies in the water, filled by his hardness, her breathing heavy, her eyes cast to the sky, her body curved and exquisite.

His palm tracks gently down her cheek and neck, he squeezes one breast, lovingly tracing her form with his eyes as well as his hand. He repeats the caress, pinching her other nipple and tickling her bellybutton on the way. His hand moves lower and lower and lower, circling her belly and stroking the jet-black hair covering her apex.

He gives her clitoris a few circles of his thumb and Kate's body writhes against him, her eyes shifting to connect with his. He lowers his body over hers and wraps his arms about her, lifting her from the water. Cool, shimmering liquid runs down her hair and back and between their bodies as they melt together.

They hold on tight to each other, their lips colliding with shared passion. They kiss endlessly, wet and fevered, their tongues sliding deep as they throb against each other in the water. Gibbs' hands move down to clasp her ass and his hips thrust him up into her receiving cunt. Kate gasps in pleasure, lifting herself slightly with her thighs and letting herself sink back down on his tall, stiff cock.

Their rhythm is effortless and lazy. They look each other in the eye, kissing intermittently and stroking randomly, as they watch the corresponding fire in each other build and grow and swell and rapidly overtake them. Kate begins to whisper his name, over and over and over again, and her eyes slip slowly shut as the pleasure becomes too much. Gibbs keeps moving inside her, his pace languid and his thrusts deep, watching her face as her bliss blooms.

"Come on, Kate," he murmurs, entranced and amazed by the way she moves with him and her expression so open, so pure, so beautiful: "Come for me, beautiful."

"Uh!" she bites down on her lip hard and leans in to kiss him so soft.

She lifts herself up and sits down on him one last time as he gives one more strong thrust inside her. Her head flies back and her throat lets loose on a soft, aching scream and she starts undulating with intense pleasure. He keeps plunging steadily within her, letting her feel his entire length penetrate her depths as her walls convulse about him. He grips her hips with his hands, tilting her towards him and making sure his pelvis hits her clitoris good and hard.

Kate cries out louder, her fingernails digging into the back of his neck and her hips pulsing against his and her mouth contorting into an erotic, little smile. Her unrestrained wails and wanton smile intensify his pleasure and her orgasm makes his cock ache for release.

He clasps her body close, thrusting up into her spasming tunnel, his movements becoming ragged and desperate. Then suddenly her name flies out of his mouth and he comes, spilling into her in three surging shoves.

Lazy minutes pass and the world continues to turn as they stand, merged and motionless, in the aftermath of their mutual rapture. A flock of birds fly over head and the water laps gently about their conjoined bodies as they cool.

Kate leans over his shoulder to scoop up some water and pour it over his head. Gibbs smoothes his hands up her back and lifts his heavy head from the curve of her neck. His wife's face has the gorgeous glow of an intensely satisfied, intensely happy woman. She pats his wet cheek and leans into whisper against his ear:

"I love making you scream, too."

END.