You Are Not Alone - NCIS FanFic

His Basement...Everyone's Basement

Ducky's POV

Over the years that I have been working down in the basement of the NCIS, I have been noticing subtle differences in my life. As I get older, I sleep less. Or find it harder to sleep. Maybe that was a contributing factor to my heart attack and my slower-than-usual recovery. Whenever this occured during a case, I would always find myself walking through Jethrow's unlocked front door and trudging wearily down his wooden steps. There he would be, sanding, stapeling and sawing away, a glass of bourbon next to him. Sometimes, I never said a word and neither did he. I just sat on the rickety wooden stool in the corner, watching him, thinking. Then after a while I would get up, turn to the stairs and walk out into the cold, dark night.

Abby's POV 

My dad wasn't around much growing up. My mum was the one who originally thought of adopting me, and my dad was always against it. Being deaf was hard on him. He spent his days drinking away in my uncle's bar, stumbling home a drunken mess at around 11:30 every night. I would always wait up for him, often drinking coffee at 10:00pm to keep me awake. Mum would come in and check on me and I would pretend to be asleep. As soon as she was gone, I would take up my sentry post by the window, carefully looking for any signs of movement that could suggest my father had returned. Because I never saw him as my dad, Gibbs has become such a father-figure to me. I was adpoted, so why couldn't I have been adpoted again? Whenever I thought like this, I would drive the 20 miles across Washington D.C to Gibbs' place. The door would be open and you could always hear wood being banged together and bourbon glasses being chinked around. Sometimes I saw him in a drunken mess like my father. But it's a father's job to pretend that he was okay, to be the rock, so his children wouldn't get scared.

Ziva's POV

I wasn't used to the silence. Being in hospital for so long, you get used to machine's beeping, rubber-soled shoes squeaking down the lino corridors, trolley and bed wheels shaking. Being back in my own bed, alone, with no one around scared me a little. And Ziva David was brought up to be fearless. But being alone for the first time in months scared me. So I decided I wasn't going to be alone. I couldn't see Tony. Not after what I had to tell Abby today. Not after seeing her face. The face of horror, disappoinment and despair. So I went to the next most important person in my life; Gibbs. I had never ventured down the wooden staircase to his workshop, but I had come close. Just before my father died, I had sensed something was wrong, and I drove over there at midnight to talk to him, but had found the house silent and cold. This time, the house was warm, and the smell of wood and bourbon filled my nose. 

Slowly, so slowly, I started down the stairs to the basement. The forth step creaked, the eleventh step squeaked. The sixteenth step felt like it was going to collapse under my tiny frame, but I got down safely. There was Gibbs, sanding the frame of one of his many hand-made boats.

"Ziva?"

I couldn't take it anymore. I was crying and disorientated, but somehow I made my way upstairs and into my car. But I couldn't turn the key. I was too tired to even lift my arm. I rested my head against the window and closed my eyes. I could still smell the bourbon.

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Here you are chickas! Keep the votes coming! I really want to get to 100 votes by my birthday, which is August 9. So I will be uploading heaps between now and then! This was just a filler, but more of the story is coming!!! Love you all!

Micky J