Stillwater, Pennsylvania: 1985
Faster Than My Angels Can Fly
There was something that seemed to be constantly interrupting his sleep – not just his sleep, but also his life in general – and somehow, he still wasn't really used to it. Meaning – he wasn't used to it as in it still took him a moment to realize what was going on when her crying woke him up, but he was used to it as in – he could sleep through it, and it didn't necessarily bother him, but maybe that was because he'd forgotten what quiet sounded like.
He lay on the couch, slowly dragged out of a rare deep sleep by the crying from the crib across the room, and he blinked at the ceiling hazily, biting back a yawn. It took him a moment to convince himself to get up – the sound really didn't grate on his nerves like it did Jenny's; not in the same way. It irritated her and made her desperate to make the baby feel better; it just made him feel like he needed to attend to her.
Gibbs finally sat up, resting his elbows on his knees heavily and blinking steadily a few times. He stared down at his bare feet, wondering vaguely what time it was – it felt like he'd only gotten back to sleep an hour ago. He rested his eyes closed a moment, considering blocking out the noise and seeing if she'd cry it out – but Jenny didn't like that, and besides, it would wake everyone else up.
He stood, and dragged his feet over to the crib. He peered in, avoiding the mobile as he leaned over the side and hung his hand down into it, tickling the crying baby's stomach with a few gentle fingers.
"Shhh," he mumbled gently.
Despite the late hour, and the general absurdity of being woken up by an infant – his infant – when he was seventeen, the moment her small blue eyes focused on him, even if they were full of demanding tears, he smiled.
He picked her up, and cradled her against his chest, supporting her easily and running his hand lightly up and down her back. He walked slowly back over to the couch – his makeshift bed, on the nights when Jenny was here, and he was on primary baby duty – and sat down.
"Shhh," he murmured again, turning his head. His forehead rested against her ear. "Whatcha want, Natalie?" he asked gruffly.
He glanced up at the ceiling – he'd thought he heard a noise. He looked for a clock, patting Natalie's back rhythmically and lazily trying to quiet her. He had fed her the last time she woke up – and Jenny kept saying that she needed to be on a feeding schedule, according to books she kept reading, but Gibbs' mother mildly just advised she be fed when she was hungry.
"But what about maintaining healthy weight and schedules and – " Jenny argued.
"Honey, if she's hungry, she'll eat; if not, she won't. Babies have one schedule, and that's chaos," Ann would always answer pleasantly – and then she'd usually whisk Jenny away, and force her to drink some chamomile tea while Gibbs was left to amuse Natalie.
Natalie quieted down a little, but she kept fussing. Gibbs just figured it was going to be one of those nights – not that he had much experience with them. Jenny stayed over about once or twice a week – or she had since her father's family medical leave ended. Usually, the nights weren't so bad – not as horribly bad as Gibbs had imagined, or had always heard – but then, Jenny seemed exhausted all the time.
She was prone to tears, she second-guessed herself all the time, she was angry at her father, she was angry at her situation – Gibbs didn't blame her; after all, she'd planned to be back in school at this point, but it was the first week of February, and she still hadn't returned – her schoolwork was slipping, and the one day she'd gone in to classes to talk to an advisor, she'd been so single-mindedly focused on Natalie that they'd called Gibbs out of class to just take her home and continue homebound schooling for a while.
