Alice's story

Moment in time

I am sorry that I have failed to publish this story in the last two weeks, I was not happy with this chapter.

I hope you enjoy the story.

thank you for your time.

I wake up too see that Gibbs is already up and out of the room, I head into the en-suite to take care of my morning business and take a quick shower. I use Gibbs shampoo, conditioner and body wash to get clean for the day, they all smell nice and help me feel clean. Once I step out of the shower, I dress in a set of Gibbs sweats and an old NIS shirt. Once clean and dressed I head down to the kitchen to find Gibbs cooking something.

"Watcha making?" I ask him while trying to see past him.

"Breakfast," He answers me.

"Thanks, that helps sooo much."

"Coffee ready."

"How do you even know how to cook? I though you basically lived at work?" I question Gibbs while poring him and me a cup of coffee, adding milk and sugar to mine.

"I was married before."

"Yeah, and you lived at work so they left you."

"Is that what you really think about me? I live at work."

"Yep."

"What about the boat?"

"Made it in autopsy and shipped it here."

"Why?"

"Because you want us to think that you go home, once in a hundred years."

"You think I'm a hundred?" Gibbs ask me while turning around to face me while softly laughing at me.

"Nope," I say with a smile making him give me his 'I think you are lying to me,' look so I add, "I've said it before and I'll say it again, you raised the first and killed the last one."

"I'm not that old."

"Right? You have any evidence to prove that?"

"Don't need it, I know how old I am."

"Alzheimer's."

"You're starting to sound like DiNozzo," Gibbs informs me while turning around and dishing up the food that turns out to be bacon, eggs and tost, all cooked on the stove top.

"Me? Sound like DiNozzo. Impossible," I exclaim and sit down at the table as Gibbs place the tow plates down and we begin to eat. After the first bit I accidently moan at the delicious taste of the food, making Gibbs look at me with something in his eyes that I can't recognise. "This is delicious," I complement his cooking before adding, "For someone who learnt to cook before the invention of fire."

"Again not that old. But thank you."

"No prob. But I have a question. It's not about your age."

"Shoot."

"Why did you hire Tony and Kate? I don't think you would have the balls to be drunk at work twice."

"I wasn't drunk at work ever."

"Then why?"

"I sew potential in them."

"Did you see potential for me?" I ask him softly before changing to another question because I don't think I can handle it if the answer is no, "Do you still see potential in them?"

"Some days."

"Okay," I say while looking at my food and ending the conversation because I don't think I can handle him say he doesn't see potential in me, especially because I am beginning to feel something for him, more than a friend or co-worker.