SquidgeWorld Archive

Author: Rachelle Ryan
Title: Calling on Sorrow
Pairing: Mention of slight Di/G
Summary: Whiskey splatters the wall. Pain scours the sides. Gibbs grieves in the one place where he has total control. Or does he?
Spoilers: Major Twilight
Disclaimer: I only own the worm of an idea that shaped this story. None of the characters with the exception of the spiritual manifestation are mine. They all belong to the makers of NCIS who are God.

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Calling on Sorrow
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Yellow light from a single desk lamp strained against the darkness of a crowded basement illuminating hand powered woodworking tools covered in a fine coating of sawdust lying haphazardly on a long dresser next to the shady form that was a promise of boat it reached its limit at the cement blocks.

There was an absolute lack of movement, of life, unless one was observant enough to notice the bourbon slowly seeping its way down the right wall to land in the ruin of ceramic shards on the floor. Or discern that the immobile figure slumped along the opposite wall between cabinets was actually a human being and not a pile of discarded cloths vaguely lumped together in the shape of a man curled in on himself.

Gradually that began to change. If there had been anyone conscious to observe they wouldn't have been able to tell for several minutes that anything was happening. Even then they probably would have convinced themselves it was a trick of light. In a way it was.

Slowly with all the sheer work of giving birth the yellow particles of light shining into the cement box began to multiply and coalesce in a column over the wooden ribs of the boat that dominated the room. Barely shining with the strength of a dying flashlight the beam began to develop human characteristics. Soon, after an eternity, the form of a woman hovered over the work of one man's many hours of devotion. She was beautiful in a blurry sort of way. Her features had no distinct lines. The curve of her smile and the arch of her eyebrows were more of a suggestion than truth and her legs seemed to have no end. They just descended into a haze of skirt and light. Finally color leaked into her form and in that instant she was real and not the product of an over active imagination or too much drink.

She opened her eyes. A hypnotizing blue, the irises seemed to ripple like the waves of the ocean. Drifting down Her hand slid along the side of Her hull. She was looking lean after the punishing hours He had just put into sanding Her peppering the air with curses and thinking even worse ones. She was glad that He had stopped. Much more and He would have damaged instead.

Turing Her head She looked at the shattered glass. The other result of His pain. Her frown was that of an exasperated mother. She could not smell the alcohol that He had tried to drown himself in but She was disturbed by the break in Her domain. This was a place of building not breaking.

With a wave of Her hand the pieces of mug gathered closely against the wall well out of range of an unsuspecting foot. Turning again She looked at the man who had shaped Her. Even to Her inhuman eyes He looked a sorry sight. Between heartbeats She was by his side. Bending down on unseen legs She sat beside Him. Her hand reached out a brushed the lines from his forehead.

He had lost what was His. She knew because when He poured himself into His work He instilled himself into Her. Everything She knew, the blue of the sky, the feel of wind on the skin they were all experiences that He had imparted while shaping Her. She had never left this basement, and in fact could not; this was Her domain and the only place where She held power. This night while driving himself to exhaustion His hurt and sorrow had sunk into Her sides tearing at Her essence.

She knew that His had names just as He himself had a name but She didn't limit herself to the mere titles that mortals used. She had no name but She wasn't discontent with this because She had never had one. She knew one day She would and that He would give it to Her, but not yet. She would cherish it because He had given it to Her but names told nothing of the soul. Her maker was called Gibbs along with several other titles. They didn't tell of the solid core of his being, a smoky quartz that glittered if hit with light. Nor the brilliant hordes of fireflies that showed their brightness only in the darkest moments that were so much a part of him.

Then there were His. Those that were His to protect, to punish, to love, the ones who were as much a part of Him as He was part of Her. There was the hard man all granite and no give. The fire of his hopes and honor struggled to survive on the bare rock that was his duty. The man would never admit belonging to Him. Yet he had sat here in Her domain and took comfort in not having to guard for once in His presence even patting Her bones before he left.

There was the giant oak tree whose branches are so broad that they seem to extend as far as the horizon. Talons served as his roots. Wise and harmless seeming yet he was the only one who could stand up to Her man and make Him back down. Those talons were sharper than they looked. Tied to him was the man of tiger stripes over sleek muscles, fighter and watcher. Hot chocolate rich and salty he had depths that were hard to see. Wounded the others hovered protectively trying to ease his pain and fear.

A joy to His heart and as loved as a sister was the one of black lace and starlit skies who looked so dark but whose light was never hidden. Close but not quite joined to her was the man-child of copper wires and ocean waves. Full of change and hidden strength he had been shaped just as carefully as She ever had.

Talking a lot and dazzling with sunshine to hide the shadows of his past was the man who stole under the skin creating either love or hate. Looking at Her hair, which used to be shades of red but now only contained the barest trace of it amidst Her long dark brown tresses, She remembered how reluctant the change was. She had been hesitant as well. As a reflection of Her maker She was no more enthusiastic of change. Now She was rather fond of the hue as He held back yet.

Ripped away from this world was the woman of steel and snowflakes. Her soul had been determined and beautiful in a sharp way. He had come down on Her recently but she had taken it to heart and was growing under His tutelage.

He lost her to the man who was made up of mirrors that reflected and blinded covering the fact that he had no heart only hate. Running through his veins was oil that was so thick it had no sheen but smothered. The rage He harbored for this stealer was a throbbing pulse made worse by His feelings of failure. These were what drew Her out for He needed Her.

The chill of death clung to the floor. Many men had come and removed what was left of the putrid wraith that had inflicted this hurt. They had photographed and scrubbed away the blood but the tear created by a soul leaving its body could not be cleansed with soap. She was sure that the wisp of blackness that rose from that spot had not gone to the Heaven that He knew of.

That he had lain in wait, here, where She might have been able to strike him down had She known the depths of his transgressions galled Her some. But he had not touched Her avoiding even brushing an edge as if he could not bear to come in contact with something that had been created out of love.

Sand swept skies and raven black wings had brought the death of the hater. Sister and slayer, death was something she knew as an old friend. Grief for her loss had been tempered by the resignation in her soul. The many scars piled therein seemed to be clogging her life. Unlike her brother this one desperately yearned for light and love but seemed to be choking on the oil that had consumed him. Leaning on Her side She first learned of the events leading to this moment. As she hashed out her cover story with Him the warrior woman had felt the same safety as the last war torn man to find peace in the shadows of His basement. She knew that this one would be back and would join His ranks just to gain another glimpse of His warmth that shone so brightly subdued as it was at that moment.

After they had all gone the sense of relief He had felt seeing the soul stealer thrown from this plane had worn away under His sense of shame and pain.

But She was a very young spirit without much experience. She had never lost what was Her's before. When He was gone She wondered if the hole He left would eat at Her as this one did. She did not know. Deaths of the past still haunted Him with the pain of regrets but this death He felt should have been His. The cruel nature of the soul stealer had surprised Him. Robbing Him of the security He felt that He could protect those that were His. His anger burned not only for the monster who had taken from Him but for himself as well. She wanted very much to stop his pain, to relieve his frustration and hate.

She was very young though and small and not even finished. Her powers were equally small and did not extend beyond the basement of His house. She could not save Him from the corrosive feelings that ate at Him. As countless others had found at times like these She discover She was helpless to fix His grief.

Unsure what to do She called upon a memory from the sun kissed one. Her man had been gone several days, not unusual really, but on the third day he had come here alone. Using a key that He had given to all of His in case of emergencies he entered the empty house and descended into Her place. Coming right up to Her he'd placed his hand on Her side. The need he felt to be close to Him, who was undercover and missing for the past 24 hours, had made him come. Standing by Her side unconsciously stroking Her plains he'd given her a gift and sung a song the man who raised him used to sing to calm him. The words made no sense but even as a grown man they made him feel safe and loved helping him deal with the fear and worry he felt for Him.

Holding the memory close She rested Her intangible hand on His heart and began to croon the lullaby.

//Cree// //Craw// //toad's foot//
//Geese// //walk// //bare foot//

//Cree// //Craw// //toad's foot//
//Geese// //walk// //bare foot//

//Cree// //Craw// //toad's foot//
//Geese// //walk//-

Her head snapped up. Some one had come. Standing where her killer had died staring at Him with anger boiling in her eyes was the spirit of the lost one. Dressed in the combat vest and accouterments that she had worn in her every appearance to Him the bloodless hole between her brows was the cruelest detail.

Calmly rising from the side of Her man She came up to the woman who had fought so hard for life. Even in death she radiated the energy that she had devoted to living. However She could tell that death had also changed her. Frozen her at the moment of crossing not allowing her to move on.

Standing directly before the ghost who had invaded Her domain She took the full brunt of the rage whirling in her dark brown eyes. So consumed by her anger she didn't even notice that She was before her. "I died because of him." The words were practically a hiss.

She looked for the words to reply for a moment. She was had never had a conversation. "You died." Her words were a statement of fact not a question. Having more definition than Her, the ghost's face visibly blanched rearing back as if she had been struck.

Seeming to see Her for the first time the vengeful soul blinked, her rage briefly slipping replaced by confusion. "Who are you?" Giving Her a second look she amended, "What are you?"

She waved at the physical form being shaped in the corner.

"Oh." Briefly her eyes widened in shock.

"Why have you come here?" It was asked more out of tradition than anything else. Just taking in the anger in her face anyone could tell she had come to haunt the man she held responsible for her death. Even a ship spirit could see that.

Anger tightened the lines around her mouth and hardened her face once more. "I took one bullet for him wasn't that enough?"

She cocked Her head. "Was it? Did you not chose to protect Him with your life?" A barrage of images passed between them. Memories of the ferocity she had put behind guarding Him.

Glaring she spat, "That's not the point!" Crackling with unfocused rage she took a step towards the subject of her anger. There was power in her anger, power that she did not know how to direct yet but given time she might learn, She did not want it to fall on His head. She maneuvered to stay between her and Him staying in her face, which clearly showed her frustration.

"You didn't mean it then?" Her tone was a cross between curiosity and disappointment.

"NO! I..." Tears began slipping down ashen white cheeks. Reaching out She gently wiped them away.

"What of-" She searched Her memory for the name, "McGee. If he had died you would be alive. Why do you not hate him?"

Looking away she whispered, "He couldn't help me. There was nothing he could do."

Silence took hold.

"I didn't want to die." Pleadingly she clung to Her eyes. "I didn't do so much. Why did I have to die?"

Softly She insisted. "You saved His life. Do you really regret that?"

The black lines of her outfit began to blur to be replaced with a white blouse and dress slacks. The hole between her brows had smoothed. "No." Free of the anger that had held her she looked alive. "I dedicated my life to saving people."

"You did a good job." Putting all the feeling He had for this woman into Her words She watched as the corner of her mouth quirked up and she faded away.

(Fin)

A/N:
For all those who've read this I thought I'd make a little chart confirming the id's of well, everybody. Because I'm sure you're right but damn it sometimes you like to check. (grin)

1. Tobias Fornell= granite and fire
2. Ducky= oak and talon
3. Gerald= tiger stripes and hot chocolate
4. Abby= black lace and starry skies
5. Tim= copper wire and ocean waves
6. Tony= sunshine and shadows
7. Kate= steel and snowflakes
8. Ari= mirrors and crude oil (Wilderness of mirrors for all you JAG fans)
9. Ziva= sandstorms and raven wings