Leroy Jethro Gibbs / Caitlin Todd / trapped under Gibbs' boat

"What the hell am I doing?"

It was not the first time Kate had asked herself that this evening.

Not by a long shot.

She was definitely going to kill Tony. Slowly and painfully. He had said just enough about Gibbs' conspicuous absence to make her start to worry, to feel like she should check to make sure there wasn't anything seriously wrong - check Gibbs hadn't finally pickled himself with bourbon from the inside out, or had some horrific woodworking accident, or whatever other ridiculous scenario her brain could cook up to explain him being unreachable all day.

Common sense said Gibbs was a grown man who could look after himself, but Kate was by nature a worrier when she cared about people, and she did care about Gibbs. Despite her better judgement. He was a cantankerous old grouch, but he was their cantankerous old grouch.

Tony wasn't that worried, or he would have come himself. No, he was just concerned enough to send Kate on a wild goose chase, to annoy their boss, and in all likelihood to make a complete fool of herself.

So now, thanks to Tony, here she was attempting, and failing, to reach under a boat to try and rouse Gibbs, check he was still, in fact, breathing, check he was some version of okay. Trust Gibbs to have fallen asleep in the most inaccessible place imaginable, to be just out of arm's reach.

It would have been much easier if the lighting was better, or the boat was a little smaller, or if he'd finished less of the hull, or if there was more room in the basement for her to find another way of getting to him or if she was just a little taller or... or so many other variables that were not working in her favour tonight.

The boat was beautifully made, even Kate could see that, though really she had very little idea what she was looking at. 'Learn boat terminology' had been on her to do list since joining NCIS, but other priorities had always got in the way.

Not that it would make much difference right now, except she didn't like feeling ignorant, even of an object that was currently just an obstruction. She was cursing the thing, even as she admired his handiwork, but she didn't have the vocabulary to cuss it properly, and it was making her more annoyed. 'Damn wooden... rib thing!' really wasn't very satisfying to mutter.

Her attempt to lever herself up high enough to look over the finished section had left her with a bruised shin and a twisted ankle. It had also been noisy enough that the fact Gibbs still hadn't responded had her genuinely concerned.

"I must be an idiot." She sighed. Yup, she was an idiot. She was actually going to crawl under this thing to poke Gibbs and check he was alive and most likely get growled at for her trouble. "I had to wear a skirt today."

The gap under the boat wasn't that low, but she hadn't really come dressed for limbo dancing. Still grumbling under her breath, she slipped off her shoes and jacket, looked down at the skirt she was likely about to totally ruin, and crawled in, banging her head as she did so. Once safely inside, she managed to sit up and brush off some of the dust and dirt.

The boat had seemed huge from the outside, filling most of the basement. It suddenly seemed a lot smaller now she was in it. It smelled of bourbon and sawdust and Gibbs. All things considered it wasn't a bad combination, it was just a little overwhelming. Especially at close quarters.

In the dim light filtering through the unfinished sections above her, she could see he was indeed breathing... Sound asleep actually, and looking rather peaceful. She sat for a moment, chin resting on her hand, and just watched him. It was kind of weird, and definitely unfamiliar, seeing him at peace, not angry or stressed or worked up about something.

Shaking her head, she moved to slide out from under the boat. No way she could bring herself to disturb him, not even to scold him for making her worry.

It was a good idea till she somehow managed to budge something and suddenly the boat shifted and there was a nasty thud as it hit her leg at exactly the wrong angle.

She let out a stream of invective that would have appalled her mother.

"Kate?"

She looked over her shoulder. Gibbs was peering at her with a quizzical expression on his face.

"Sorry."

He blinked a couple of times as he sat up, looking confused. She couldn't really blame him, since she'd randomly crept into his house without his knowledge or permission, but she had more pressing concerns right now.

"Help? I hurt my leg."

She tried to move, and let her breath out in a hiss at the pain. She could feel her foot, could wiggle her toes, was probably lucky not to have done more damage, but whatever she had done hurt like hell. She tried to tell herself that at least it was the leg she'd already jarred falling off the boat, so she wasn't doubly incapacitated, but it was slender comfort to her equally wounded pride.

Gibbs scooted over, all business, wedged something under the edge of the boat to take the weight off her leg, and began to check her for injuries.

She blushed as he ran his hands up and down her calf and examined her ankle and foot. Stuff like this happened out in the field all the time, there was no room for self-consciousness when you had to check a person's injuries, no place for getting shy when you had a job to get done, but when she was already embarrassed about being here at all, she really could've done without it.

She winced and yelped a couple of times, but finally he looked up at her with a small smile. "No broken bones. Though I think we should move you till we get this lady steady again."

He held out his hands and helped her manoeuvre so her leg was out of harm's way, then carefully tucked the rolled up sweatshirt he'd clearly been using as a makeshift pillow under her ankle.

Kate leaned back on her elbows as Gibbs busied himself getting the boat steady again. She was trying to work out if she could explain herself, apologise (preferably without actually looking like she was apologising), and get out of here with some dignity intact.

It was looking increasingly unlikely.

Her ankle was throbbing. She stared at the ceiling - what she could see of it through the unfinished hull, anyway - and silently cursed herself, DiNozzo, the boat, Gibbs... I knew I should've stayed in bed this morning.

She got quite caught up in her silent litany of blame, and she wasn't sure how long it had taken her to notice Gibbs had finished adjusting the - well, whatever it was he was using to keep the boat steady - and was sitting, cross legged, looking at her with an expression of mild curiosity.

She smiled weakly. "Sorry." Oops.

Gibbs just shrugged a shoulder.

"I was- we were worried- because you weren't at work and you didn't call in and so since we hadn't heard from you I thought-" I thought I'd come here and make a total fool of myself.

His forehead creased a little, as if he was trying to make sense of her rambling (yeah, good luck with that). "How's the ankle?"

Kate was slightly taken aback but grateful for the change of subject. She looked down, flexed her foot, winced. "I'll live."

"We might even be able to save the leg."

She gave him a startled look, then giggled. "Gibbs, did you just make a funny?"

He grinned, his eyes crinkling endearingly. "Maybe."

Kate couldn't help but grin back. Seeing Gibbs asleep and relaxed had been unusual. Joking with her? She felt like she was imagining things. If she'd bumped her head a little harder, she'd be tempted to put it down to a concussion.

He kept eye contact with her for a few moments, then looked away. "So... I miss anything today?"

"No new cases or anything, nope."

"Okay."

I missed you. The idea was slightly odd in her head, but it was true. She'd missed his quiet presence in the bullpen, missed looking over to see him deep in thought, absorbed in some file or another, missed how at some point during most days she'd catch him looking in her direction, those piercing blue eyes focused on her, unnerving and oddly comforting at the same time.

She had felt... deserted. Which was downright ridiculous.

He was staring into space, and she wondered what he was thinking about, what had kept him away from work, why he'd been down here, alone, asleep, instead of with them. Why? Why weren't you there?

"I'm sorry."

The soft murmur startled her. She wasn't sure whether she'd accidentally asked out loud, or if he was just apologising anyway. The former would be mortifying, but the latter seemed unlikely. Then again, she wouldn't have expected him to make a joke, or to have her turn up under his boat and just roll with it, so she wasn't feeling terribly confident in her judgement of what he would or wouldn't do.

"What happened?"

He looked up at her warily from under his eyebrows.

The question had popped out unintentionally, but now she'd asked it... she kind of wanted to know.

He made a vague gesture with one hand. "I-" He paused. "Personal... stuff."

Well that's no answer at all. She held his gaze till he looked away, rubbing his hand through his hair and letting out a huff of air as if he was frustrated or angry or maybe just... tired. Really tired. She almost wanted to reach over and hug him, except that she had no idea how he would react, and she wasn't even sure she could move that far without pulling on her ankle.

"I'll get you some ice."

She was startled again by his sudden pronouncement. He slid out from under the boat with an ease she rather envied, and then for a few minutes she was alone to wonder what was going on with him and why exactly she gave a crap.

Her butt began to protest about the angle she was sitting at, and when she attempted to get more comfortable, a sharp pain stopped her in her tracks. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. Humiliating herself and being injured had not featured highly on her plans for this evening; doing either in front of Gibbs only made it worse. Between the damaged ankle and dented dignity, she couldn't decide what hurt most. She let her head fall back and blinked rapidly against a sudden sting of tears which would really put the icing on this disastrous cake.

At least if she'd just made herself look an idiot, she could run away and hope tomorrow morning they could pretend like none of it had ever happened. But no. She had to go and immobilise herself in his basement, under his boat, then ask a question that had clearly pissed him off, even if it hadn't been on purpose.

She sighed. It didn't help that now she wasn't just mildly curious and vaguely worried, but actually properly concerned. Clearly something had happened or there was some significance to the day she'd missed, and which Tony had either likewise missed or had just neglected to tell her. She couldn't imagine what it might be about late February that could make a man usually as reliable and solid as granite behave this way, but it surely couldn't be anything good.

A noise from outside of the boat shook her out of her reverie, and Gibbs was reappearing, handing her a glass of water and some pills, then very carefully placing what looked like a bag of frozen peas on her ankle.

"I thought you hated peas?"

He frowned at her, one eyebrow raised. "What?"

"Peas. You said you hated peas."

"When did I...?"

It suddenly occurred to her that her knowledge of his eating preferences might seem a little weird. She wasn't even certain herself of where and when she'd picked it up. "Never mind."

He was still looking at her, a crease down the middle of his forehead. "Frozen peas. Cheaper'n an ice pack."

"Oh. Okay."

They sat in quiet for some minutes, Gibbs adjusting the peas against her ankle now and then to make sure he was icing all the worst of the swelling, and Kate felt herself relax slightly as the cold eased the throbbing. She let made grateful noise, then when he gave her a strange look, she realised it had come out sounding a bit... dubious.

Good Lord, how many ways could she humiliate herself in one evening?

He cleared his throat. "We should get you upstairs."

She looked doubtfully at the gap under the boat. "That might be a bit... ambitious."

"I'll prop her up a bit higher, give you a hand. Think you're stuck with me for the night, but the couch'd be a lot more comfortable."

Stuck? What? "Your couch?"

"Well, kinda thought you might take it wrong if I offered you my bed." He paused, raised an eyebrow. "But if you'd prefer..."

He left the question hanging and she could feel herself blushing. Again. "I- the couch is fine. If I can't go home then - no, the couch is just fine."

"You can't drive, Kate. And you shouldn't be on your own tonight anyway."

He said it simply, with a shrug, and after a moment she nodded, unable to think of any good argument against it.

He was probably right, she probably shouldn't be home alone when she could already feel herself going slightly loopy from painkillers and pain and pure and simple tiredness from a long day at work. As mortifying as this was, she was grateful he cared, grateful that looking after her when she was injured wasn't something he even had to think about, just the obvious thing to do for one of his team.

It took a little while to get things set up so the gap under the boat was about twice as big as it had been before, but that was child's play compared to actually getting her through it. It was more time-consuming and tiring and involved more manhandling by Gibbs than Kate would've thought possible, and when she eventually found herself propped up against the side of the stairs, she was starting to wonder if it wouldn't have been better to just bunk down where she'd been. She was suddenly exhausted, and very grateful she didn't have to drive, or even be driven, home.

"Gimme a minute."

He was readjusting the boat back down to its previous position. "Take all the time you need, Kate."

She was sure he meant that, at least in his head, but she had a feeling his patience might run out quickly regardless of how good his intentions, so when he stood up and asked if she was ready to try the stairs, she nodded 'yes' despite not being at all sure it was true.

He tugged her arm around his shoulders, tucked his under her armpits, and they set out on the few feet to the bottom of the staircase. It seemed a lot further than it had earlier this evening, her ankle still protesting being so badly mistreated.

Determination to prove she was okay would only get her so far. She was biting her lip against the pain, trying not to actually whimper, but shit, it really hurt, and even with Gibbs taking most of her weight... she winced as she stepped on her bad leg again, had to suppress the urge to swear. Loudly.

"Kate?"

"'M fine." Damn. Even to her own ears that sounded totally unconvincing, forced out through gritted teeth.

"'Fine'? Yeah, you look it."

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't even find a sarcastic retort. Another step, and man, it actually hurt worse and would it be too shameful to just crumple in a heap and cry right now?

Gibbs harrumphed. "This is ridiculous," he muttered.

She was about to say something - some protest or apology or she wasn't sure what - but then he was bending down and she gasped as he scooped her legs out from under her, instinctively linked her hands around his neck, looked up at him in shock.

"Just easier this way," he explained with a smirk and a shrug.

Oh God.

She decided she was suddenly very interested in the buttons on his shirt, studying them closely so she could ignore how the ease and grace and care with which he was carrying her appealed to every last fantasy she'd ever had about being rescued. Kate didn't do fantasies about being rescued. As a strong, independent woman, she didn't want a man to come rescue her. As a feminist, as a Special fucking Agent of the United States Government, for God's sake, she didn't need looking after like a delicate flower. Ever.

Except occasionally, in moments of weakness, she dreamed about arms holding her firm and safe, about being able, just now and then, to cede control and allow someone to care for her - not because she needed them to, but because they could and they wanted to. Although he was undeniably attractive, in an 'I'm a bastard, deal with it' sort of way, she would never have pegged Leroy Jethro Gibbs as a man who might press those buttons, however unintentionally. And yet now he was making her nerves twang and jostle and turning her face beet red. Oh, God.

He laughed softly, and she decided the benefits of looking at him to find out exactly what had amused him so much were far outweighed by the potential for dying of embarrassment. Especially if it turned out he was laughing at her, which seemed extraordinarily likely.

He manoeuvred carefully up the stairs, angling them through doors so he wouldn't bump her head or bang her ankle, and then he was carefully depositing her on a couch that looked like it was actually in regular use as a bed.

She sank back against the pillows. She had forgotten how tiring being in pain could be, could hardly believe how grateful she was to be lying back down. She let out a sigh of relief and closed her eyes for a moment. "Ughhhhh."

Gibbs laughed again and she grinned despite herself, without opening her eyes. He had a nice laugh, even if it was at her expense.

She was too busy taking deep breaths as the twinges in her ankle settled back to something more bearable to really think about what he was up to, and then she jumped, yelped and her eyes popped open when his hand closed around her calf.

He was lifting her leg carefully onto the stack of pillows he'd made, setting it down gently then surveying his work with the eye of a perfectionist, and now she was embarrassed. Again. She felt bad enough about this evening without having him feel like he had to coddle her.

"I can- Gibbs, I'll be fine, really, you don't have to worry, just go to bed. I can sort myself out."

He just gave her a look and continued doing what he was doing, making sure her ankle was supported. "That okay? Think you can sleep like that?"

"I'm fine," she protested weakly as he started to straighten out the sheets and drape them over her. "You don't have to-"

"Kate? I'm a Marine. I look after my people, okay?"

She pursed her lips. There was no retort to that.

"Besides, least I can do, considerin'." He frowned.

For a moment she couldn't figure out what he meant, and then she had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes. Men! The idiot was clearly blaming himself. "It's not your fault I got hurt."

"My boat, my responsibility."

"If I hadn't been poking my nose in, then it wouldn't've happened."

He shook his head. "Nah, I shoulda called in. Meant to. Got... sidetracked."

She watched his face, wondering what he was thinking, what had happened today, and trying to believe he really didn't mind having to play nursemaid.

Though she wasn't sure she had the energy left to protest any more, so it was really a moot point. She sighed, and it turned into a yawn despite her best efforts. "Thanks... Gibbs." Her brain was going more and more mushy as the painkillers gradually kicked in, though she was intensely grateful her foot no longer felt like it might fall off.

"You're welcome, Katie."

Given he was tucking her in on his couch with such care, she didn't even have the heart to glare at him for the 'Katie'.

"Gibbs?"

He stopped, crouched down by her head. "Yeah?"

"Was worried about you today, Gibbs."

He just looked at her for a long moment, studying her face. "You don't need to worry about me, Kate." His voice was suddenly much softer than usual. "I'm okay. I'm fine."

She reached out to touch his cheek, and he closed his eyes for a second, then met her gaze again. "I missed you."

He frowned, confused. "What?"

"I missed you... at work today, I..."

He blinked, looked away for a second. "I'm sorry," he breathed.

"What happened?" Her eyes were starting to close, but this was important, she was sure of it.

"I- it's a long story. Ask me tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" She pouted.

"Kate, you're zoned out on pills and you're in pain. Tomorrow will do fine."

"You'll tell me?"

He sighed, and there was a long pause. "Yeah."

"Promise?"

She had given up the struggle to keep her eyes open, but she felt him nod against her hand. "'Kay. 'M gonna hold you t'that."

He chuckled quietly. "Okay."

"Good. You shouldn't... shouldn't keep stuff bottled up, 'snot good for you."

"Don't worry 'bout me, Kate. I'm fine." He brushed her hair back from her face, smoothed an errant strand behind her ear, and she could no longer fight to stay alert, could feel herself slipping towards sleep.

Still, she wanted... she wanted him to know.

"Try not to worry, I do, but I... care. Care 'bout you, Gibbs."

The hand that had been stroking her hair stopped for a moment, then he took a noisy breath. "Thanks."

"You need sleep too," she mumbled. "You- you go to bed, 'kay?"

He chuckled again, and then he got up from her side and a couple of seconds later she heard him flop down into a chair across the room.

"Gibbs?"

"Yeah?"

"Thought you were goin' t'bed?"

"I'm fine right here."

"But you... you've got a bed, you should..."

The chair creaked as he got up, and then he was hovering over her again, and she felt his knuckles brush her cheek. "Just sleep now, Katie."

She sighed, too tired to argue any more. "'Kay."

"I'll be right over there if you need me."

"'Kay." Exhaustion and the pills and the remnants of pain were ganging up on her, and she finally gave in, her breath evening and slowing, and even the unexpected touch of a goodnight kiss on her forehead didn't manage to keep her awake.

~ fin ~