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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-04
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1,008
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1/1
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13
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1,173

Ready aim...

Summary:

Gibbs can’t. Not going to happen. Can’t manage it. And it’s getting to be a problem. Ducky understands. Not that he’s ever had that particular problem himself.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Disclaimer: The characters from the show aren't mine, they belong to others. No copyright infringement intended. Any characters you don't recognize are mine. Feedback would be nice, positive feedback would be nicer. Enjoy!

Category: NCIS angsty hurt/comfort PWP fic

Rating: Teenager

Characters: Mostly Ducky/Gibbs

Series: No

Spoilers: Twilight specifically but anything might get a mention

Summary: Gibbs can't. Not going to happen. Can't manage it. And it's getting to be a problem. Ducky understands. Not that he's ever had that particular problem himself.

Archive: Just tell me where it's going

Additional 'stuff': WWOMB CHALLENGE OF THE WEEK: On The Run Challenge. Your character is running, from a secret about to be revealed, from an enemy or unwanted lover....from the police...or from real love that just plain scares the heck out of him/her, maybe. The challenge response is for a drabble, ficlet or full out fic.

 

Title: Ready, aim...

Wednesday...shooting range practice area

Gibbs snarled and turned away from the paper outline a few dozen yards away. Sliding the safety on his Sig, he turned to leave.

'Gibbs?'

The Gunny in charge of that day's group of NCIS and other federal agents required to keep their handgun skills tested looked across. He had to jog to catch up to Gibbs.

'Hey...Gunny?'

Gibbs stopped, turned, expression unreadable. 'Tomorrow.'

The Marine flicked over the listing on the clipboard he held. 'Friday Gunny...you need to get your certification by the end of the week or...'
He didn't have to finish the sentence. Or Gibbs would be sent home on 'administrative leave' until he could re-take the test. And pass it.

********************************

Thursday...shooting range practice area

The Gunny shook his head. Whatever the Hell was bugging the guy, he hoped he got over it. But it wasn't gonna happen today. He watched carefully, saw the guy thumb the safety on then holster his weapon and walk off the range without firing a single shot.

Friday...NCIS office

'Special Agent Gibbs!' Morrow swept past Gibbs' desk, barely pausing and, equally seamlessly, Gibbs got up and followed the Director upstairs.

'Close the door.' Morrow nodded at his open office door.

'Sir.' Gibbs stood at something close to parade rest, the stance familiar and somehow reassuring.

Something needed to be. Since...that day...life had changed. Nothing was the same. Even his coffee didn't seem the same. His team were tiptoeing around him and each other, Ducky and Abby were subdued - no endless tales from Ducky, none of Abby's playful flirting - and he couldn't wait to get out of the office at the end of each day. The basement, the boat, the bourbon. The routine was keeping him sane. Just.

'How's the shoulder?'

Morrow's question caught Gibbs by surprise and he flinched, startled by the sudden sound in the quiet room. 'Uh...fine...Sir...thanks.'

'Gunnery Sergeant Dillon called. Says you've been over the range every day this week and not fired a shot.'

Gibbs felt the heat rising in his face. 'Sir?'

'You need to get re-upped. Today. Or you're on leave until you do. I don't make the rules Jethro...' His voice softened. 'But if I make an exception for you...because of what happened...'

'Understood Sir. Is that all?'

Morrow sighed inwardly. 'Thank you Special Agent Gibbs.'

******************************

Ducky looked up as the doors swished open. It took him just a quick glance to stop what he was doing and look across to where Jimmy Palmer was laying out instruments for the afternoon's autopsy.

'Jimmy, why don't you take your lunch hour now.'

Jimmy looked up at the clock. 'Uh...but it's only...' Then he looked from Ducky to Gibbs and quickly back again. 'Uh...sure Doctor.'

Ducky waited until they were alone then looked at Jethro, his eyes searching the face for some spark of the former Gibbs. There was nothing. Just a dull blank expression. 'Jethro...'

Gibbs sighed. 'It wasn't my fault...I know...I've lost people before...I know...this was different Duck!' His voice rose, cracking as he finished his unspoken plea for help.

Ducky nodded understandingly, moved to a cupboard and pulled out three thick grey blankets, laying two of them on one of his tables. 'Up you come.'

Jethro scowled. 'Gonna put me out of my misery?'

Ducky chuckled kindly. 'Trust me.'

Warily, Jethro lay on the table, resting his head on a third rolled up blanket.

'Close your eyes.'

'Duck!' Jethro protested. He was stared into compliance after only a moment.

'Now, picture the range...hear the sounds...the targets, the shots around you, the shouts of those bad-tempered Gunnies muffled by your ear protectors...' He was relieved to see Jethro's brief smile and continued: '...feel your Sig...cold, heavy, it needs both your hands for an accurate shot...feel your shoulder...just a pull, nothing too bad, you can ignore it...safety off, see him...his smile...hear his voice...aim...double tap...he's gone.'

Jethro didn't move and Ducky looked down, concerned he had gone too far.

After a heart-stopping pause Jethro's eyes snapped open and he slid off the table and was gone in a swish of the automatic doors.

Smiling, shaking his head, Ducky picked up the blankets and folded them neatly before returning them to the cupboard.

************************************

A couple of hours later...shooting range

'You don't wanna warm up Agent Gibbs?'

Gibbs shook his head, put on his ear protectors, took a deep breath, took out his Sig, thumbed off the safety, closed his eyes, opened them and emptied the clip into the target.

Everyone not shooting or preparing to stared at the paper target. Every shot dead center, a huge circle torn in the paper, accuracy most of those staring at the target could only dream of.

Gibbs made his gun safe, left it on the table in front of him to allow the barrel to cool for a moment.

The sudden volley of shots a few yards away ensured only he heard his words: 'You feel that Ari?'

End

Notes:

This orphaned work was originally on Pejas WWOMB posted by author fanficwriter101.
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