SKELETONS OF HIS OWN


It was late. As usual, Special Agent Gibbs was at his desk. He'd sent the rest of his team home, and was finishing the paperwork on the Grady case himself.

They thought they had wrapped up the case when they arrested Len Grady for six murders. But when Gibbs and Lt. Col. Mann of the Army's Criminal Investigations Division went in search of Grady's van, they found that it contained his last victim and his girlfriend – who was dismembering the body.

Gibbs had to force himself to focus on Natalie Dalton's arrest report. His mind kept replaying his earlier conversations with Col. Mann. Working with her again had gone relatively smoothly – they had taken two monsters off the streets – but seeing her again was awkward. He had behaved like a jerk after their night together, and he knew it, just as he knew she would call him to task for it. When she did, he had turned it around on her, pointing out that SHE could have called HIM – this is the 21st century, after all. But…some traditions die hard, especially for a man like him. He knew he should have called her; he also knew he couldn't bring himself to tell her why he hadn't.

The sound of the elevator's arrival surprised him. He had thought that he and the night-time security guard were the only two people left in the building. The doors opened, and out of the car stepped Hollis Mann.

"Colonel Mann," he said somewhat stiffly, "how may I help you?"

"I need a copy of the autopsy report on the last victim before CID can close its file on the case – that is, if it's no trouble, Agent Gibbs," she replied, matching his formality.

"No trouble at all, Colonel. I was expecting you to come for it – tomorrow. I have your copy right here." He picked a blue folder up off his desk and handed it to her.

"Thank you," she said, as she opened the folder. "Everything seems to be in order here?"

"You were expecting otherwise?" he asked with a slight smirk. "Is that why you came all the way out here at this time of night? To inspect my M.E.'s paperwork?"

Mann folded her arms in front of her and locked eyes with him. "How long are we going to play this game, Gibbs?"

"I wasn't aware that we were playing a game, Colonel," he replied, holding her stare and copying her posture by folding his own arms in front of his chest.

"Then you won't mind telling me what I missed. I thought maybe we were starting something. I didn't take you for a one-night-stand kind of guy."
"I'm not," he said evenly.

"So what the hell happened?" she asked sharply.

Gibbs looked away. He couldn't meet her eyes any longer. Something about the change in his demeanor made her realize that a verbal sparring match wasn't going to get her the answers she wanted.

She softened her tone. "That night, did I do something wrong?"

Still not able to look her in the eye, he shook his head slightly, almost imperceptibly. "No," he whispered.

She reached out and put her hand on his arm. "Then what is it? What's going on?"

He lowered his eyes to her hand on his arm. "It's…" He stopped and inhaled deeply.

"You're not going to give me that `It's-not-you-it's-me' crap, are you?" she asked, the sharp tone she had used earlier returning to her voice.

He lifted his head and finally looked into her eyes again. "It's complicated."

Any other time, she would have accused him of a cop-out, but his deep blue eyes revealed a profound sorrow. She had seen it once before…

She decided to take a chance. "Does it have anything to do with Kelly?" She didn't know who Kelly was, only that she had to be someone that Gibbs had loved very deeply – and lost.

He turned away from her, his shoulders slumped. His voice was shaky. "I – I can't."

"You can make love to me, but you can't talk to me?"

He turned to face her again. She wouldn't have thought it possible, but the expression on his face was even more pained than before. He spoke so softly she had to lean towards him to catch his words.

"I'm sorry, Hollis."

"Yeah. Me, too." She turned, walked over to the elevator, and pushed the down button. When the doors opened, she stepped inside, then turned to look back at Gibbs. "Look, Jethro, when you figure out what it is you want, call me." The doors slid closed and the elevator began its descent.

Gibbs closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and returned to his chair. He opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out the bottle of bourbon he kept there. He took a long drink, straight from the bottle, before recapping it and returning it to the drawer.

He placed his elbows on his desk and covered his eyes with his hands.

He should have told her. But how could he? How could he tell her that she was the first woman he'd allowed into his life since recovering from a coma? How could he tell her about Shannon and Kelly, and how his temporary amnesia had reopened the wounds, making it feel like he had lost them only months ago? How could he tell her it was too soon?

He turned back to his computer and finished his report.