Work Text:
Disclaimer: "NCIS" and its characters don't belong to me they belong to CBS and are being used without permission. Please don't sue because I have no money.
Refuge
Walking into the house I look around, but knowing the person who I am looking for is down in the basement working on his boat. I always feel like this house is my refuge. This is where I go when something happens in my life that I don't like, or just want to talk, or not talk.
I feel like it's my refuge and had since the first time that I had spent time in the house. I had to spend a couple of nights there because something happened to my apartment and I couldn't stay there. Gibbs offered to let me stay and I accepted. I had other bosses and they never let me stay at their house.
Sometimes I even helped with the boat. At first I didn't know how to sand a boat, but he showed me how to go with the grain. I felt happy that he was patient with me to show me how to do something. My father never had time for me and when he did he never had patience with me. I was always in the way and he sent me away, or told me to go somewhere else in the house. Sometimes if I didn't he would get mad at me and hit me, but at least it was some kind of attention.
As time went on he would invite me over to have dinner and we would watch a game, or a movie. Sometimes we would have steaks cowboy style, or Chinese and sometimes we had pizza. I never cared because I was with the man who I thought of as my father. He is more my father than my own father ever was. He cared about me and he told me not to die when I was in the hospital when I had the plague. My father wouldn't have cared to come to visit because it would interfere with one of his many business deals. Just like he left me at a hotel because he had a business deal with a beautiful divorcee. He didn't care that he left his twelve-year-old son alone in a hotel room of strangers.
I wish while I was growing up that I had a loving family, but I didn't. I had two parents who drank and didn't care about me. The only time that they even talked to me, or payed attention to me was when my Mom had me wear the sailor suit to show off to her friends, or when my father wanted me to tell him of my day in his study and have me pour his drink.
The End