Home (also Drabble Dump February 2012)
Home - Kick Ass/NCIS, Hit Girl + Gibbs, PG'>
Kick Ass/NCIS, Hit Girl + Gibbs, she goes to live with a distant relative who actually doesn't suck and they bond.
Home - Kick Ass/NCIS, Hit Girl + Gibbs, PG
She shows up on his doorstep with a suitcase full of cash and a larger vocabulary of invective than most drill sergeants. She also has a tattered and worn print-out tracing the convoluted ties of blood that bind them, however distantly. Her name is Mindy Macready, and she clearly, belligerently, expects him to find a social worker ASAP.
Gibbs does nothing of the sort. He's gotten used to people feeling lost gravitating towards his home, as if it's a rock in the sea, a place where people can catch their breath and ask advice before flinging themselves back into the fray. Except Mindy doesn't want to fling herself anywhere.
He keeps the questions simple, she keeps her answers the same. He knows she's holding back, but there's a familiar quality to her chatter, a rock-hard protective shield that in him manifests in knowing silences. If Gibbs had been there that day in Mexico instead of Kelly, maybe she might have been the same.
It's enough to go on.
Gibbs keeps working on his furniture in the basement. It doesn't particularly surprise him when Mindy breaks out a variety of weapons and practices beyond his worktable. He checks them out, finds them well taken care-of, and nods once. Mindy almost grins at him.
He checks out her story; he can't not. While he doesn't care for technology, that doesn't mean he can't do an internet search if he wants to. Mindy, it seems, had a childhood that should have left her with hair as white as Gibbs'. When he requests her father's records and reads between the lines, he realizes why. It's not the route he would have chosen, but after seeing her televised battle for her father's life, he at least understands.
Gibbs is the one that broaches the idea of them both going to the firing range one Sunday afternoon. Mindy handles every firearm in the arsenal with ease, and Gibbs gives her a small nod of satisfaction as she fires neat groupings into dozens of paper targets. She catches his look and smiles once.
"You don't totally suck," she announces casually. Something gleams in her eyes for a brief second.
He only nods again and raises his own piece; Mindy mirrors his every move. For right now, that'll do for both of them.
Kick Ass/NCIS, Hit Girl + Gibbs, she goes to live with a distant relative who actually doesn't suck and they bond.
Home - Kick Ass/NCIS, Hit Girl + Gibbs, PG
She shows up on his doorstep with a suitcase full of cash and a larger vocabulary of invective than most drill sergeants. She also has a tattered and worn print-out tracing the convoluted ties of blood that bind them, however distantly. Her name is Mindy Macready, and she clearly, belligerently, expects him to find a social worker ASAP.
Gibbs does nothing of the sort. He's gotten used to people feeling lost gravitating towards his home, as if it's a rock in the sea, a place where people can catch their breath and ask advice before flinging themselves back into the fray. Except Mindy doesn't want to fling herself anywhere.
He keeps the questions simple, she keeps her answers the same. He knows she's holding back, but there's a familiar quality to her chatter, a rock-hard protective shield that in him manifests in knowing silences. If Gibbs had been there that day in Mexico instead of Kelly, maybe she might have been the same.
It's enough to go on.
Gibbs keeps working on his furniture in the basement. It doesn't particularly surprise him when Mindy breaks out a variety of weapons and practices beyond his worktable. He checks them out, finds them well taken care-of, and nods once. Mindy almost grins at him.
He checks out her story; he can't not. While he doesn't care for technology, that doesn't mean he can't do an internet search if he wants to. Mindy, it seems, had a childhood that should have left her with hair as white as Gibbs'. When he requests her father's records and reads between the lines, he realizes why. It's not the route he would have chosen, but after seeing her televised battle for her father's life, he at least understands.
Gibbs is the one that broaches the idea of them both going to the firing range one Sunday afternoon. Mindy handles every firearm in the arsenal with ease, and Gibbs gives her a small nod of satisfaction as she fires neat groupings into dozens of paper targets. She catches his look and smiles once.
"You don't totally suck," she announces casually. Something gleams in her eyes for a brief second.
He only nods again and raises his own piece; Mindy mirrors his every move. For right now, that'll do for both of them.