NCIS: Gibbs/Abby Fermata
Title: Fermata
Fandom: NCIS
Characters/Pairing: Jethro Gibbs/Abby Sciuto
Prompts:For citymusings’s M - music for The Alphabet Drabbles
Word Count: 200
Rating: T
Summary: She was music. Pounding bass. Manic guitar riffs. Unintelligible lyrics. Ear shattering volume. All these were her music, were her.
Author's Notes: Angst, with a dollop f ‘oh noes’ and a heap of ‘she didn’t!’ Character death and sad. Sorry, it is September. Nothing good happens in September (or October or November) in my life, kinda a depressing time. Sorry!!
Music.
She was music. Pounding bass. Manic guitar riffs. Unintelligible lyrics. Ear shattering volume. All these were her music, were her.
Her moods were spelled out in music. Bouncy and loud when she was happy. Slow and quiet when she was sad. Grinding and penetrating when she was sensual. All these were her music, were her moods.
He read her through her music. He knew when she’d failed, when she’d succeeded by the music warbling or blaring from her speakers. He knew when she needed him, when she needed to be alone by the beat and pulse of her bass. He imagined (knew) that even at rest her heartbeat was the heavy bass line of her favorite song.
He hated her music, yet he loved her. He embraced her and embraced her song, her melody, her music, her life, her. She was music.
He understood when her lab was silent, when her home was silent, when her heart was silent. She was no more. Music ceased. With her death, silence reigned over his life. He was silence.
All these were her music, were her. Ear shattering volume. Unintelligible lyrics. Manic guitar riffs. Pounding bass. She was music.
Music.
No more.
Fandom: NCIS
Characters/Pairing: Jethro Gibbs/Abby Sciuto
Prompts:For citymusings’s M - music for The Alphabet Drabbles
Word Count: 200
Rating: T
Summary: She was music. Pounding bass. Manic guitar riffs. Unintelligible lyrics. Ear shattering volume. All these were her music, were her.
Author's Notes: Angst, with a dollop f ‘oh noes’ and a heap of ‘she didn’t!’ Character death and sad. Sorry, it is September. Nothing good happens in September (or October or November) in my life, kinda a depressing time. Sorry!!
Music.
She was music. Pounding bass. Manic guitar riffs. Unintelligible lyrics. Ear shattering volume. All these were her music, were her.
Her moods were spelled out in music. Bouncy and loud when she was happy. Slow and quiet when she was sad. Grinding and penetrating when she was sensual. All these were her music, were her moods.
He read her through her music. He knew when she’d failed, when she’d succeeded by the music warbling or blaring from her speakers. He knew when she needed him, when she needed to be alone by the beat and pulse of her bass. He imagined (knew) that even at rest her heartbeat was the heavy bass line of her favorite song.
He hated her music, yet he loved her. He embraced her and embraced her song, her melody, her music, her life, her. She was music.
He understood when her lab was silent, when her home was silent, when her heart was silent. She was no more. Music ceased. With her death, silence reigned over his life. He was silence.
All these were her music, were her. Ear shattering volume. Unintelligible lyrics. Manic guitar riffs. Pounding bass. She was music.
Music.
No more.