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I never thought I’d end up working for NCIS. Maybe the FBI, maybe even the CIA — from the moment I started training, I knew I was meant to be an agent.
But NCIS? I hadn’t even heard the name before. Naval Criminal Investigative Service? I always thought the FBI stuck their fingers into everything.
“That’s true,” Tony shrugged, perched on the edge of his desk with a donut. “Agent Fornell tries to stick his nose everywhere, but Gibbs usually shuts him down.”
“Gibbs?” I had no idea who worked here. “Is he the boss?”
“Not exactly, but—” Tony was cut off when the elevator dinged.
“Talking about me?” A man with close-cropped silver hair and a coffee cup strode out. His back was straight, military sharp.
“Morning, Boss.” Tony immediately offered up the donut bag. Gibbs ignored it and came to stand in front of me.
“I’m Gibbs.” His smile was small, barely there.
I quickly shook his hand. Warm, but rough—calloused palms, hardened fingertips. “I’m the new agent.”
He only nodded and took the desk opposite mine.
——
The first time I went into the field with Gibbs, we boarded a submarine. Some Navy brass had thrown a fit about me being there — “women don’t belong in that kind of place,” he said. Gibbs didn’t even blink. He just ignored the shouting and put me on the plane.
It was the kind of aircraft that drops like a stone and stops on a dime. From landing to full halt took maybe three seconds. I thought I was ready, but my stomach flipped inside out.
“You’ll get used to it,”Gibbs said. Like it was nothing. Though he still handed me a bottle of water.
The mission went smoothly—until the suspect pulled a move no one saw coming. A suicide attack.
The submarine tilted violently. I stumbled straight into Gibbs’s arms. I could’ve moved away. I should’ve. But his arm locked around me, holding me steady.
He smelled faintly of sawdust. For a second I wasn’t in a steel corridor at all—I was a kid again, sitting in the garden, watching my father hammer together a swing.
I realized my pulse hammered far too fast.
——
“I'll say Gibbs isn’t exactly the dating type,” Abby said around her giant cup of soda,“But I wouldn’t know,” she admitted. “If I had him under a microscope maybe I could figure it out. But otherwise? Total mystery.”
“Yeah,” Kate frowned thoughtfully. “He’s always quoting his rules. Like, never date a coworker.”
“Rule 12!” Abby slammed her soda down, laughing.
I laughed too, but it felt a little hollow.
——
Not long after, Tony shoved a task onto me: go fetch Gibbs from his house.
“He won’t bite,” Tony smirked. “Just… watch out for the woodworking knife.”
The moment I stepped into the basement, the smell of sawdust hit me like a wave. My chest tightened — the same scent I’d breathed in when I fell against Gibbs on the sub.
The room was dim, lit only by a single amber lamp that threw shadows across the ribs of a half-built boat. Gibbs stood among them, casual wearing, knife in hand, carving wood like the rest of the world didn’t exist.
“Hey,” I called softly. “We’ve got a case. DiNozzo said you weren’t answering your phone.”
He paused, turned his head, eyes catching mine in the low light.
“Five minutes.”
I shut the door and all but fled back to the car. Seeing him like that — stripped of his armor, quiet, surrounded by wood and shadow — left me shaken.
Something about it felt dangerous. Dangerous because of how much I didn’t want to look away.
Five minutes later, Gibbs stepped into the car, brushing wood dust from his silver hair.
I floored the accelerator.
“Good girl,” he smiled. His coffee sloshed, but he didn’t care. “faster than DiNozzo.”
My heart pounded like a drum. I had to sit alone in the parking lot for several minutes before I dared to go back upstairs.
——
“Jethro!” Only Ducky ever called him that. “Did you know Tutankhamun took the throne at nine and died mysteriously at nineteen? His mummy shows disease, trauma, still a puzzle—”
“Ducky.” Gibbs cut him off gently, a rare smile ghosting across his face. “When?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Ducky cleared his throat, utterly unbothered at being caught. “Our Petty Officer, dead twelve hours.”
“Cause?” Gibbs asked. “Mystery like Tutankhamun?”
Ducky chuckled. “If the boy Pharaoh landed on my table, I’d have an answer in minutes. This one drowned. Bullet wound flooded his lungs.”
Gibbs nodded, already turning to leave.
It was my first autopsy with Ducky, so I stayed. Out of courtesy, but also curiosity. He spun conspiracy theories about ancient Egypt while cutting with precision. He seemed pleased I listened; Gerald looked relieved I kept him occupied so his ears could sneak away.
By the time I returned upstairs, Gibbs was waiting. “Well?” he asked lazily.
I scratched at my hair, forcing a smile. “Great as I thought.”
“Next time, just come up with me. Leave Ducky to his corpses.” His half-smile tugged at me again, as if he already knew everything running through my head.
A shiver ran down my spine. I drowned it with two long gulps of water.
——
Those fleeting moments stretched for weeks. Gibbs treated me differently—Kate and Abby said it both, throwing subtle glances my way. I pretended not to see, but my eyes always drifted to him, and my dreams betrayed me.
On planes, he’d reach for my hand, steady me when turbulence shook the cabin. In the mornings, he left a cup of coffee on my desk. When I got injured in the field, he stayed nearby, silently watching over me.
I tried to resist, tried to remind myself of Rule 12. But each glance, each touch, made the pull stronger.
——
One day, we were chasing a killer — someone trained as rigorously as we were. The game of cat and mouse escalated until Gibbs grew frustrated.
Finally, we cornered him. The man raised his gun, aiming straight at Gibbs’ chest. My heart lurched. Adrenaline surged faster than McGee checking his stock. Without thinking, I threw myself into Gibbs’ path, pulling him down.
His silver hair brushed against my chest. I prayed he couldn’t hear my racing heartbeat.
I refused to let go, even as Gibbs struggled beneath me. The bomb detonated seconds later. Shrapnel tore into my arm, the ringing in my ears grew deafening, until I blacked out.
——
When I woke, all I saw was a sterile, white ceiling. Monitors beeped rhythmically. I blinked, turning my head. Kate hovered, her voice frantic, but muffled.
“Where’s Gibbs?” The oxygen mask muffled me. Kate tried to lean close, but a hand stopped her.
A familiar, calm voice answered from the other side,“I’m here.”
Gibbs sat there, bandaged but with that faint, reassuring smile. He reached out, brushing away the tears I hadn’t realized were running down my cheeks.
“You okay?” I whispered.
“I'm not the guy lying in bed,” he said lightly.
“Is your arm broken?”
“Yep.”
“……”
“Why stop asking?”
“I got nothing to say now.”
“Really?” he smiled, tightening his grip on my uninjured hand. “But your heart’s racing.”
“It doesn't.”
“I can hear it,” he said, eyes flicking to the monitor. “Nervous?”
“…Maybe.”
“Afraid I’ll lecture you?” His thumb brushed my knuckles. “Say you love to show off, love to play hero?”
“Would you?” I asked softly.
“I think I already did.” He smiled faintly, the way only he could.
I laughed, imagining DiNozzo throwing a fit over the unfairness of it all.
“You happy being lectured?” Gibbs asked me without expression, “Seems like you didn't realize your fault.”
“I will do it again,” I admitted. “Next time… and maybe the time after that.”
Gibbs said nothing, only lowered his gaze. I shut my eyes.
After a long pause, he spoke: “I won’t let this happen a second time.”
“Am I fired?”
“Who said that?” He squeezed my hand, his expression a mix of stern and tender. “You just love to misread me. I’m supposed to protect you.”
“I’m an agent too. I can protect myself.”
“Then why did you do it to me?” His voice was low, insistent. “I’m your superior. That’s what I do.”
The word superior cut through me, a strange ache settling in. I could barely look at him.
He gently removed his hand, leaving a hollow space where warmth had been.
“Open your eyes,” he said softly.
“This is an order,” he added, forcing me to obey.
I glared but obeyed. The redness on my face from the oxygen mask hadn’t faded. Gibbs’ rough hand traced it away lightly.
“Upset because I’m your superior?”
I frowned, annoyed at how well he read me.
“I take that as a yes,” he murmured, touching my lips. “So… what do you think we are?”
My heart was racing too fast to say anything, a nurse came in to check me.
“Rule 12,” I said suddenly when the nurse left, catching him off guard. “Never date a coworker.”
He laughed—really laughed this time, his eyes narrowing with it.
“Who told you that?”
“Kate, Abby, Tony. All of them.”
“Funny,” he said, ruffling my hair. “None of them exactly follow my rules.”
“They said you never break them.”
“You could try,” he said, quiet but daring.
“…I could try?”
“Fine. You're right.”He paused, that familiar half-smile lingering. “I would try.”