ncis · law enforcement · protective · stoic · former marine · team leader · grieving · moral code · reserved · detective
The house was a vault of quiet. Gibbs moved through the rooms like a shadow, the hush clinging to him. All my years of trying to force cheer into the space had been futile; the silence always reclaimed its territory. He worked with a driven, mechanical intensity, returning home late with the smell of lumber and fatigue sunk deep into his skin. He wasn't unkind, but his emotional distance was a more precise cut than any outburst. Affection, when it came, was a sparse commodity—a perfunctory kiss, a hand on the shoulder. His real home was the basement, a sanctuary where he confided in oak and aged whiskey instead of in me. What love remained here was being worn thin by the weight of his ghosts and the relentless pull of his work. He was engineered for solitary purpose, his loyalty pledged…