Getting the Boat Out of the Basement

I don't own NCIS- nor do I profit from it.

He didn't have a basement.

Well, technically he didn't.

But his apartment building did.

Tony DiNozzo sat cross-legged on the dryer as it shook underneath him, a micro-carving tool in his one hand and a wood block in the other, a block from which a sailing ship was rapidly emerging.

He squinted in concentration, eyes narrowed to thin points.

The vibration of the dryer added to the challenge.

He had been serious when he told McGee to pick up gun and wood-working magazines. It might not help with small talk with Gibbs (and Gibbs never really does small talk, not if he respects you at all, McGeek should know that), but it sure was therapeutic.

He hadn't dared to suggest sewing though, he remembered as he contemplated the color he would make the sails.

It would ruin his persona, no matter how helpful the tip was.

After all, bullet holes in expensive suits didn't fix themselves- and he may have inherited the Paddington fortune, but habit was habit. (He had sewn his own Halloween costumes every year, even though he knew his father would lock him inside and burn his candy if he did escape to trick-or-treat. The astronaut suit had been his favorite. He'd figured, if he had to dress like a sailor for his mother, he deserved at least one day to dress like his dreams. Nowadays it wasn't an issue, though. He dressed like his dreams every day, and Senior couldn't stop him.)

Besides, this way he wouldn't forget to carry old Mrs. Brock's laundry upstairs before passing out (he was getting too old for 48 hour shifts); his elderly neighbor just didn't know when to ask for help, and he didn't want to come home to her fallen on the stairs again.

Sound familiar, DiNozzo? Gibbs' voice echoed in his mind. He smiled, for more than one reason. Mostly because he knew how to get the boat out of the basement, but also because he knew that, as stubborn as he was, Gibbs would never accept help doing it. Not unless help just happened to show up on time.

He whistled while he carved.

It would take a magnifying glass for most people to see it, but 'Kate' was the name decorating the prow.

Gibbs and Mrs. Brock weren't the only ones with trouble asking for help.