Gibbs had retrieved Maggie’s purse from her desk, making sure her keys were inside. As he loaded her sleeping body into his car, he leaned over her to make sure her seat belt was securely fastened. As he drove her home, he was surprised to realize he knew the address without looking. He had studied their files when she and Noah had first come to NCIS, but she didn’t have this residence at that time. He remembered hearing her tell McGee the address, and noting it was just up the street from him. It was a little disturbing to him that remembered as much as he did about her – just about anything he had ever heard or read.
He pulled in to the driveway of her townhouse, parking in front of garage door. He unlocked the door and took a quick look around. Everything seemed quiet. As he carried her in, he pulled the door closed behind him and locked it.
He house was not at all what he had expected. It was older with classic lines, hardwood floors and high ceilings. He smiled. He carried her down the hallway into what he assumed to be her bedroom. Again, the room wasn’t feminine, as he had expected it would be. Her furniture looked handmade, with high quality lumber and a beautiful grain. He pulled back her down comforter, laying her down gently. He tucked the blanket around her, and leaned down to place a kiss on her cheek.
His mind was flooding with memories of his daughter that had been taken from him so soon. He didn’t know how many times he had carried her to bed just like that, tucking her in. Of course, she wasn’t quite so out of it as Maggie. Often Kelly would snuggle down into her covers and smile as she drifted back off to sleep. At other times she would whimper at being disturbed. He shook his head, trying to keep the melancholy that these memories sometimes brought from overtaking him.
He walked through Maggie’s home, feeling a little like an intruder. She hadn’t invited him. She hadn’t expected he would be there. But here he was. He noted that her home was furnished with high quality, well-made pieces. But it wasn’t cluttered. There was nothing there that wasn’t required. It was neat as a pin. He stopped to look at the framed photographs along the wall in the hallway. Family was very important to Ms. Sullivan, according to her photos. There were pictures of people of all ages, and most included her. In each picture she was totally enjoying life. He was surprised to note that Maggie liked to sail. He knew she lived on a boat and that she was raised on the water, but he didn’t know to what extent she enjoyed sailing until he saw her photos. There were pictures on a ketch, a cutter and a very large wooden ship similar to a Turkish gulet. There were also several pictures aboard a large, modern cabin cruiser. He could only assume this was where she lived most of the time.
He had no idea what to do next. He picked up his phone.
“Abs?” he asked.
“Yeah, Boss,” she said over the music he could hear in the background. He smiled.
“What should I expect when she wakes up?” he asked, realizing Abby didn’t have any reason to know why he had called.
“Oh! You’ll need to feed her. A lot. Werewolves have a really high metabolism. Maggie eats like a football player, yet has the body of a dancer. She probably has something appropriate in the fridge,” she paused to take a breath. “And she’ll probably fight you about coming back in to the office. She won’t want to just stay home,” Abby warned.
“I’ll take care of that,” Gibbs answered determined.
“I guess you’ll just have to watch TV or something until she wakes up,” Abby said, chuckling at the thought of Gibbs with an afternoon off.
“She doesn’t have a TV, Abs. Or a computer,” he added.
“Wow,” Abby said, surprised. “I didn’t realize that. Hope you don’t get bored!”
“I think I’ll survive, Abs, thanks,” he said.
“Okay, well, let me know if you need anything from me,” she replied perkily.
He disconnected without saying bye.
Gibbs went into the kitchen, looking around for something to eat. He grinned when he noticed her large coffee bean grinder and professional-looking coffee maker. Her refrigerator was well-stocked, but only contained a few things: fresh fruit, fresh vegetables, fresh herbs, fresh meat, homemade salad dressing, beer and ice cream. He laughed, moving two large steaks from the refrigerator to the countertop. He stepped out onto the patio from the French doors in the kitchen to find a very lovely backyard. Maggie had planted (or transplanted – he wasn’t sure) a small vegetable and herb garden, lots of flowers and a few flowering bushes. It was hard to believe she had only been here a few months. She had a large, wooden porch swing overlooking the yard. Her grill sat on the other side of the patio. Charcoal. He should have known – she didn’t seem to do anything the easy way. He started the coals and headed back inside. He seasoned the meat and set it back into the fridge. He took out several different vegetables and began preparing a salad.
“Coffee?” he heard a soft voice from the other room. He grinned. He should have known. He rinsed his hands, dried them on a towel, and then crossed to the coffeemaker. He made coffee, noting that the grounds were in a personal container. They smelled terrific. He heard her footsteps and she came into the kitchen. She was wearing a short tank top, a pair of low-rise sweats and white socks. She had pulled her hair into a high, long pony tail. “Thanks,” she smiled, blushing. She grabbed two baby carrots with one hand and three cucumber slices with the other. She grinned through her full mouth. “Starving,” she said. He chuckled.
“I didn’t think about coffee until you said something, so it will be a few minutes. The steaks are seasoned and in the fridge,” he informed her. She stepped over and took the knife from his hand, automatically taking over. This was her kitchen – her domain. He quirked his mouth up into a sideways grin.
“What?” she asked, noticing his expression. She giggled nervously when she realized what she had done. “Sorry,” she said.
“Never apologize,” he said. “It’s a sign of weakness.”
She gave him a philosophical look. “I’ve always seen it as a sign of strength.”
“You aren’t the first person who has told me that,” he said, shaking his head. “You do this; I’ll get the steaks.”
“Medium-rare for me, please,” she said with a grin.
“You got it,” he said with a wink. Her heartbeat jumped. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to breathe normally.
She grabbed a cup of coffee, inhaled its aroma deeply, and then began to sip it. She sighed – perfect. She took another cup from the cabinet and poured a cup for Gibbs. “Coffee?” she offered, handing him the cup.
“Of course,” he said, taking a long sip. He raised his eyebrows. “This is incredible,” he said shocked. He considered himself quite the connoisseur of coffee and thought he had tried every kind of blend out there. “What brand is this?”
She shook her head, “I don’t buy anything processed. Any food you find in my house will be fresh. Do you honestly think that a person who grinds her own seasonings would buy normal coffee beans?” she looked at him with one eyebrow cocked. “I know; I’m weird. This is a blend of over 16 different kinds of coffee beans that a supplier in Columbia makes especially for me.”
He gave her a bizarre look.
“Hey, I’ve lived a long time. I’ve learned what’s important in life, and what isn’t,” she said, heading back inside to finish the salad.
“I suppose,” he said, knowing she had misunderstood his look. He was beginning to question her motives. Could she be some sort of plant or spy? What were the chances of there being a woman in his life who was immediately attracted to him rather than DiNozzo or Diamond; who had red hair, loved sailing and drank strong black coffee; who preferred a world without complications like technology and modern entertainment, and who was a darn fine investigator? Of course, if she really were such a woman that would explain his attraction. He forced these thoughts out of his mind, grabbed the steaks off the grill, and headed back inside.
Gibbs was able to push any negative thoughts from his mind and enjoy the afternoon. It was difficult not to respond to her. They shared a nice dinner, great conversation and quite a few laughs. She talked at length about sailing in response to his questions about her pictures. She told him about her family, smiling as she recounted the quirky little anecdotes that you only really have when you’re from a close family. He could feel himself being more and more sucked in to her world. Instinctively, he pulled away in silence when he found himself getting too close. He still had his doubts about her, and he had been burned one too many times. He was very serious about not wanting to get involved with a coworker. He had to remind himself of those things again and again. Over the course of their time together, Maggie also schooled him on how to begin guarding his thoughts around Agent Diamond. According to Maggie, he might find it difficult at first, but it would come to him in time.
“You know when you were first learning to sail,” she explained. “You had to pay such close attention to the mainsail and the mizzen. It was very easy to make mistakes. I can remember how many times I thought I was doing well, and my dad would rush in to tell me something else I had forgotten. But the more you practice, the more it becomes second nature. Now you don’t even have to think about it. It’s the same with training your mind. You have to kind of dig furrows in your mind – sort of a protective wall against your thoughts escaping. In the beginning you’ll be better off trying not to let your thoughts go too crazy anyway. Eventually, you’ll be able to think whatever you want and block his hearing your thoughts without even trying.” Gibbs was skeptical, but definitely wanted to try. The last thing he needed was someone under his charge being able to hear his every thought; especially right now.
“Want another beer,” Maggie asked, reaching for her fourth.
“Sure,” he said with a smile. He chuckled. “I thought you would be more of a wine person,” he suggested.
“Are you kidding, Jethro, I’m Irish!” she laughed. He smiled. There had to be something going on with her – this was way too easy. She sensed the change in his demeanor. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “You can’t seriously have a problem with my using your first name, I’m old enough to be your grandmother,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.
“No, that’s not it,” he said, again pushing his negative thoughts away. He hated being suspicious, but that is part of what make him such a good investigator.
“What is it?” she asked again, bothered by the expression on his face.
“I said it’s nothing, back off,” he said more firmly. She was taken aback by his tone.
“Look, I appreciate what you did for me today, but it’s not like I invited you here. Sure, I’ve made no secret of wanting you, but it’s not like I set out to seduce you or something…” she began, anger building in her words.
“Just be quiet,” he said in frustration. He exhaled slowly, pulling his hand through his silver hair. “I’m sorry, I think I need to go.”
“That’s fine,” she said softly. He was clearly waging some sort of inner battle. She knew she was better off staying out of it. “Thanks again,” she said genuinely, “for today – for everything.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, turning to go. She walked him to the door. At the last moment he turned to face her, grabbed her and jerked her toward him, crushing her mouth against his. He pulled her even tighter to him, deepening the kiss. He pushed her against the wall, holding her by the wrists as he kissed her they way he had wanted to for so long. He leaned against her, using his body to support her when her legs no longer could. She moaned passionately, pressing even further into him. He pushed away, broke the kiss, and stormed out the door without a word. Maggie sagged to the floor and leaned her head on her knees. She listened as his car engine fired to life and he sped out of her driveway. She didn’t pity the man, as she knew this had to be difficult for him. But she was looking forward to what might happen next.
After he returned to his vehicle, he reached for his phone. “Fornell; it’s Gibbs,” he said. “Look, I need some information and I don’t want anyone on my team to know about it,” he said softly. He proceeded to ask that he find out if Agent Sullivan had any other attachments besides NPID, and if there was a chance her integrity could have been compromised. He hung up the phone, and pounded his fist, hard, into the dash of his car in frustration. He wasn’t sure which answer he wanted to hear. In a way, he would rather her be crooked. At least then he would have a good excuse to oust her from his life. She was the last thing he needed.
Author's Chapter Notes:
This chapter is one long scene with only two characters.
We'll pick up with the others next time.
We'll pick up with the others next time.