The Crazy Cave

About Time!

2009-02-01T06:20:28Z

FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINALLY!!!!!!!!!!!

LJ has been a total bitch to me all day!

But am back now. :) Well... going to bed now... but... you know. :p

Looka What I Made!

2009-01-31T20:49:37Z

Nothing is Inevitable

2009-01-31T09:42:04Z

Note: I don't like the first paragraph. It needs reworking. Actually, I'm not sure I like this one at all. Damn you Tiva, just making me write you when I don't feel like I can. :/

-----

Nothing is inevitable.

Ziva's words stuck in Tony's head. After he had drank more than he could handle. After he had suffered through his hangover. After he and the rest of the team had reachieved a semblance of normality. He was alone in his apartment, far away from work where all of the memories of Jenny were, but Ziva's words wouldn't leave him alone. It was always hard when someone you worked with died, but Jenny had been a shock to say the least. And everyone was still affected by it - but slowly, day by day, they were getting used to her not being there. It was difficult, but they had to.

She died alone.

Tony didn't want to die alone. He had no one, now. No one but the team. Since Jeanne, he hadn't dated anyone seriously. Hadn't felt anything for anyone in a long time. And he wasn't sure he wanted to. He wanted children though - eventually. Unlike Jenny, he had spoken about it. Just never positively. Recently though, he had been thinking about a family, and Jenny's death had solidified these thoughts. But for now, he was alone.

We are all alone.

He was alone. Ziva was alone. Gibbs, McGee, Abby, Palmer, Ducky. They really were all alone, weren't they? He was tired of being alone.

The two of them alone, in another world, putting their lives in each other's hands, every day. Not to mention the long nights.

What about him? What about his feelings for Ziva? They were ignored, but still there. Did he have to keep everything down the way he did? He wanted to just let go, to take Ziva into his arms, to not feel like it was him versus the world anymore. Just to feel her contradict her own words; he didn't want to be alone.

It was inevitable.

There was a knock on his door, and he reluctantly answered. There she stood, looking as dismayed as he did. She, at least, posessed a tragic beauty about her, Tony thought. He said nothing, but stepped aside to let her in.She came inside Tony's apartment, and sat next to him on his couch. She rubbed his back soothingly as he thought.

Nothing is inevitable.

Ziva slowly walked where Tony sat, and leaned in. She kissed him, lightly at first, as if testing the waters. She paused, and they stared at each other in silence before Tony's hand found the back of Ziva's head, pulling her back towards him. They kissed again, with more passion, more fire. They both wanted each other, needed each other. When they broke apart both of them were breathing heavily, and Ziva tried to read Tony's face. There she found an explosion of emotions, and tears in his eyes that he wouldn't let fall. She saw the hurt of Jenny's death, the disappointment in himself, and over all the need to not be alone.

Nothing is inevitable.

The Dark Side

2009-01-31T05:46:13Z

Another date, another redhead down.

"You know, if you keep that up there won't be any redheads left in D.C. for you to date. Or Virginia. Maryland, Delaware, Pennsylvania..." She ticked off the states on her hand. "I'm running out of fingers, Gibbs," she said, grinning wickedly. She followed him into his house.

He ignored her.

"How'd you know I wouldn't come home with her? And why are you on my porch in the first place? You could freeze, sitting out on the steps like that this time of year - and you know I don't lock the doors." He had given up on figuring out how she always seemed to know which nights he had scheduled dates, and truth be told he wasn't sure that he wanted to know.

"I know. I needed the air anyway." Despite herself, she shivered. She had assumed that he wouldn't come home with anyone, because he never did. He either hadn't had sex in a long time, or they always went to the woman's place. Either way, she had sat on the steps because there was always the possibility. You could never tell -- he'd even dated a blonde once.

Ugh. Hollis Mann. Not a good memory for her. She attempted not to slam the door. She succeeded. Somewhat.

"You know, I think your problem with women is -" she reached high into a cupboard for the cookies she'd brought with her the last time she'd been there, but couldn't make it. Gibbs' hand effortlessly grabbed them for her. "Thank you. Is that you're not exploring all of your options." She screwed the top off of an oreo, and put it in her mouth, crunching noisily even with her mouth shut.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?", to which she swallowed and nodded.

"You see, by limiting yourself to one hair colour, you've completely cut out the zillions of women who don't have red hair and are, oh I don't know, sane." She started licking the frosting off of the other half of her oreo.

"Shannon was sane."

"Shannon was an anomaly. She was perfect, and thus does not count in present day dating." Another lick.

He watched her closely, and took a few steps forward, setting the coffee he had fixed himself on the counter. "I dated a blonde once."

"Yeah, don't remind me," came a muttered reply, and Gibbs grinned at her reaction - his intent. "Well, you see, there are a lot of factors to consider here. Let's start with personality." She licked her oreo as she spoke. "You're a pretty quiet, private person, Gibbs. You need someone who knows how to have fun. Not... that you don't know... how to have fun. I just mean that fun loving people are generally... never mind. The point is that you need someone louder than you, and more outgoing, to balance you out. But not in the really annoying, Jerry Springer type of way. And since you only listen to five songs - which, by the way, I still can't believe - you need someone with a wider musical taste. Though I think my parents have a wider musical taste than you."

Gibbs laughed, and Abby took the opportunity to finish off her cookie. "And you need someone funny, charming, original, and definitely intelligent. Not to mention adorable. And speaking of adorable... redheads are definitely out. As are blondes." She added the second hair colour restriction with a glare. "Someone who puts effort into her appearance, but doesn't really care what others think."

"In other words," Gibbs said, and she noticed for the first time how close he had really gotten to her while she had been speaking, "You're saying that I'm looking for a girl exactly like you."

"Well... yes, I suppose I am. And since you already have someone exactly like me, why bother continuing your search?"

"Rule number twelve?"

"Means nothing, applied to me. I dated McGee, didn't I?"

"I don't know Abby..."

"Come to the dark side, Gibbs." She reached behind her, and found the item her hand had been searching. She held one of her oreo's up in front of his face, smirking. "We have cookies." She put the cookie in his mouth, which had been slightly open at the time.

Gibbs smiled. He spat his cookie out to the side, not caring where it fell, and faced her again. That had sealed the deal; she was perfect for him. He kissed her, and for once did not care at all about breaking his own rules.

Unspoken

2009-01-26T07:39:04Z

Note: This is a super challenge for me because I tried to write a fic where no spoken dialogue was used. And it's not spell checked, and I don't think it's even close to my most mediocre writing, so please don't chase me with torches or pitchforks because I know and am working on it! Continue!

------

She was angry at him, again. It was the third time that week, and who could tell if it would be the last? He could see why she was mad, he wasn't an idiot and she wasn't exactly good at hiding her emotions. She needed them to stop playing games, to stop messing around and make their relationship known to anyone who cared. She knew why he wouldn't do it; he was Gibbs. He had the rules. He had his own personal ghosts. He had his heart to consider.

But she was the forensics girl! She had nothing to do with his work in the field, she just analyzed what he brought for her, traded facts for Caf-Pow!s, and worried about the team constantly. She had her share of misfortunes, and she grew attatched to things quickly, but Mikel the stalker and Jethro the dog had nothing to do with how their professionally trained minds would or would not stray if they saw each other publicly. It might be different if they were in the field together, as a simple error or misstep because of distraction could get someone killed, but it wasn't as if she was going to be so lovestruck that she would forget to run a test that would deliver a breakthrough result. She was better than that, and besides, hadn't she proven that she could handle herself professionaly already with the added stress of The Secret weighing her down? Going public would, if anything, improve her work.

And she was a woman, with real needs, real thoughts, and real feelings. She knew that she dressed quite differently than anyone, including NCIS's dress code, would expect of her in her profession, but she knew he wasn't shying away from telling people because of embarassment. She knew he was proud of who she was, and she knew that shame was not even considered a factor in their relationship. And surely he knew that she needed to at the very least feel as though her opinions were being respected - four wives must have taught him that, at least. Then why the hell wouldn't he just tell the team? It wasn't like she was asking him to marry her or anything foolish like that. It had taken them almost a year to say the three little words that seem to come all too soon in modern relationships. They weren't the type of people to rush things, but Abby's patience for Gibbs had begun to wear with every day that they were forced to steal a kiss, as if it were wrong, as if it shouldn't happen.

She had screamed at him the night before, absolutely lost control in a way he hadn't thought possible with her. She had broken down crying, and he could see what his actions, or lack thereof, were doing to her. He knew that she was going through hell, and he knew that she would never - could never - leave him. She loved him, and she would love him for the rest of her life, and if that meant going crazy then she'd start shopping for a skull decorated straightjacket. Normally he let her cool down for a few days, and approached her when she had gone past the point of throwing things, but there was something in the way that she had cried for him, and in the way she stiffened to his touch the next day, that made him lose his temper. Did she want to know? Did she really want to know why they couldn't be together? Every single day he had told himself that he would inform Abby it was over, and every single day he hadn't been able to bring himself to do it. His stubborn heart had held him back, and would continue to do so until it stopped beating. It was torture, knowing that he couldn't be with her but not being able to leave, and she acted like he had a choice. As if he wanted to keep their one-in-a-lifetime love in the dark. Why couldn't she see that if it were up to him he'd be shouting it to the streets, telling Tony, McGee, Ziva, everyone? Why didn't she understand that if he had a choice she would be wearing a ring on her finger, showing people wedding pictures from what would surely be the most bizarrely decorated celebration in history, patting her stomach as a baby, their theoretical baby, kicked in excitement that it was growing?

He grabbed her suddenly, and took her to where the evidence room was, wordlessly. She protested, demanded answers, but followed obediently and without struggle as his firm hand on her arm half guided half dragged her to where all of the evidence from past cases were kept. He was a man on a mission, quickly retrieving a few specific boxes and taking them to a table. He opened their lids and pulled out what he was looking for. Photographs. Photographs of the victims from sick men who Gibbs had put behind bars. He slapped them down one after the other, after the other, after the other. Abby had stopped breathing, her breath stolen by the horror of the pictures. Her eyes were wide, and silent tears of pity slid down her face for the victims, people she did not even remotely know. He explained to her each of the cases, what was done to the victims, where the murderers were now. All of them had sworn revenge on Gibbs, and those were just the ones who had made their intent known. He knew as well as she now did, that if they were public with their relationship it would be impossible to keep in NCIS. Word would get out. Gibbs was not a liked man, and he couldn't list the dozens of people that would gladly get their hands on the one person he loved most in the world to hurt him.

When he put the evidence in its rightful places, the pair stared at each other for a long time. Silently, Abby fell forwards into Gibbs, who held her for as long as she needed to. He hated to be harsh, but she was starting to weaken his defences on the topic and that couldn't happen. He whispered apologies in her ear and tried his best to keep her from crying any more than the already had. For now, at least, they had reached an understanding - to everyone but them, their love would remain what it always had been. Unspoken.

.......

His fears had gone unconsidered by Fate, it would seem, who had her own plans for Abby and Gibbs. He had thought she was mad at him again -- perhaps their trip in the evidence room just two months prior had only kept her wishes for publicizing their relationship quiet, but had not restrained them any. He kept calling her, and calling her, and when he finally gave up he had assumed she was at a club somewhere and couldn't hear her phone. So why did his stomach feel so... unsettled? He got little sleep that night, tossing and turning, and finally he gave up and made his way to Abby's apartment. It was five in the morning, but he knew her so well that he was aware of the fact that even Abby was in by five. Panic flooded him when he saw her door ajar. He also knew her enough to tell that she would never leave her door open, especially not this late, no matter what the circumstance or how drunk she was. He reached for his gun, and opened her door further, finding it empty but trashed. Things were strewn all about, and glasses were broken. Her bedroom door had been kicked down. Gibbs ran for it, and found that it, too, was empty, and messy. And there was blood on the wall. He swallowed hard, before getting his cell phone and calling the team together.

He would kill the bastard that had taken Abby. The team, oblivious to their relationship, knew that this was true regardless.

They had followed the evidence, which Abby had been smart enough to make plenty of, and had used logic and technology to find her tied to a chair in an escaped convicts basement, staring down a madman with a knife. Anyone else would have shot three rounds into the man threatening the team's beloved lab tech. Gibbs emptied his gun into him. He ran to Abby, and untied her, took her to the hospital when she claimed to be fine, just scared. Once there and deemed perfectly fine, the team took their turns hugging her tightly, and congratulating her on her intelligence with the evidence. Gibbs was the last person in line, on purpose. In sign language, they spoke, leaving the team confused and a little annoyed that they couldn't understand what was being said. He was explaining to her how the blood on her wall, which had thankfully been her captors, had provided them with an identity for the man who had kidnapped her. He had been one of the murderers he had told her about while they'd faced boxes of evidence just a few weeks ago. The team stared on, silent, each noting that they looked the pair was having an arguement. And they were.

He told her he didn't want to lose her. She told him that she couldn't be without him. Together, they reached the conclusion that if men want to hurt Gibbs, they'd go for her anyway -- she was just safer with him. With a heavy sigh, Gibbs leaned forward and kissed her lips while she had been in the midst of signing about how stupid he was being with his reluctance. Her hands froze in mid air, her mind racing a mile a minute, before they made their way around Gibbs' body, in his hair. McGee paled. Tony handed Ziva $20. Ducky just nodded and smiled. When the two came up for air, Gibbs remembered their audience, and glared at them. They each scurried away.

Gibbs carried Abby to his car, and drove her to his house, where he planned to make sure she stayed. She was, after all, his girl.

Excitement!

2009-01-24T07:13:24Z

Okayokayokay! I had the greatest idea ever!

So when I was in high school I worked in the library for credits, and every Tuesday morning the special needs students would come in and we would help them find books and whatnot. And these kids are THE sweetest kids you will ever meet <3, but I always felt bad because there were two deaf children that I couldn't talk to. Which sucks, because not only did I love talking to this group of students, but every now and again they would forget that only their teachers knew sign language, and try to talk to me.

And so I'm watching the first NCIS episode last night, and Gibbs and Abby are doing their sign language thing, and I thought to myself That's so bitchin', I wish I could talk with my hands like that, and it made me think back to those kids. That's when it hit me -- I've been looking for a New Year's resolution (better late than never, right?), so why don't I make it this: learn American Sign Language.

One of the best parts is that next year I need an elective for my course at the college, and I had noooo idea what I was going to do, I just knew I wanted to take it in the spring so that I could sort of cheat and lighten my load for next year. But the Metro college a few blocks from my school has a sign language course that starts in March. It didn't even occur to me in high school that college's taught that! It would be easier if my college did, but you do what you gotta do, and I'm sure the credits are transferable.

So that's my big idea! I went on youtube last night (I couldn't sleep after I realized that I could and would learn ASL, just like Abby), and I learned the alphabet. So I've been slowly practicing finger spelling words, and learning a few actions off of youtube too, trying to get as prepared as possible for my class. I am so excited! I've been watching TV all day just practicing spelling the names of things I hear/see/do every day, lol. Gibbs. Colbert. Cat. Samantha. Mom. etc. I've been driving my mom crazy! XD Every now and again in conversation she'll say something that I'll repeat, or I'll say something, but I won't say it I'll spell it out loud as I sign it. For example: "What are you watching?" "NCIS." "What are they doing?" "G-I-B-B-S found..." and continue the sentance. lol.

Will P-O-S-T progress later!

*PHOOF!*

(Aren't you proud?)

Pull Out Some Hope For Me.

2009-01-22T08:38:15Z

It's been a long day.

Always.

*PHOOF!*

The Obligitory First Post

2009-01-20T10:09:27Z

I really don't know what to say. I mean, I'm in library school. What did you expect?

I've been sick for a while. Wednesday morning at 8:00am, to be really really exact. I only now feel normal, but my sleep schedule's all screwed up. I should have been watching when I was sleeping, but I didn't, and now my first day back to school after missing two whole days (that equals out to one of every class I'm taking) tomorrow I will be tired. To an extreme.

I think I'll need to be heading to bed to at least try to sleep pretty soon. I just didn't want to leave my brand new LJ all... empty. It's depressing. It's like I've got nothing to say. Because I don't know what to say, but believe me I've got plenty to say.

I'm formulating ideas on the bus now, I realized today. It's what I do. Every day. Because I found this goddamned awesome fanfic community dedicated to gabby goodness, and I really want to contribute. I blame the bitchin' fanfic writers, because I read every single story (except the ones where they use an OC as a main character, my brain doesn't like that, but I gave it an honest effort I swear!) and now I have all of this creativity bouncing inside of me from just reading.

When I should be writing a paper for my English class. Oops. Well, that's actually interesting too, I'm writing about Hitchcock's contribution to cinema and how he lives on today and why.

But onward with the thought engine. Actually, nope, I think it's stopping right here. Bedtimes.

Peace out!

*PHOOF!*

(Brief note: wtf is up with my left eye here? Anywho... carry on!)