Basic disclaimer while I still remember, characters aren't mine, show's not mine, just borrowing them, all that stuff.

Spoilers for this chapter: 7.10 Faith, and teeny references to 3.21 Bloodbath, Twilight, and possibly a couple others... so teeny you probably wouldn't get them if you've not seen the episodes, really.

A/N: I had not intended on sharing this chapter until I had more chapters done for it, since it's really just a prologue. But today my writing companion, my little dog Caleb, who's kept me company for 15 years, 2 months, and 4 hours, had a stroke while sitting in his wingback chair (nah, not the least bit spoiled...) next to my writing recliner... and an hour later, he was gone. So I wanted to post something, and this just felt right. Gibbs reminds me of Caleb, gruff and terse, but loyal to a fault, and secretly just a big cuddly teddy bear with a heart of gold. So this one's in honor of you, Caleb, my little buddy, gone on to whatever it is that "God's perfect love" means for animals.

He'd spent an hour in the basement before he could stand to go to bed. He'd sent his father to sleep on the living room couch. Something about that weighed on him, made him feel just a tad guilty. He wondered if he should have sent the dear old Dad up to his own room... but that wouldn't have helped. He wanted his space, needed it, really. The elder Gibbs would just have to deal with the sofa. Gibbs wasn't entirely sure he wanted to be encouraging visits, anyhow.

He climbed from basement to second floor in a series of impatient bounds, slowing only when he got to the top of the stairs. Intent on going to bed, he passed by the second bedroom, then lurched to a stop and stepped back, opening the door and entering the small room. With a slight smile, he let his hand run along the surfaces in the room, the top of the dresser, the framed mirror that had gathered dust since the last time he'd cleaned. He picked up the oversized teddy bear from the bed and sat down on the quilt, remembering how it came to be that this room was no longer a guest room. He wasn't sure, anymore, quite when the shift began. When he'd moved back to this house after so many years away, it had been a guest room. Once he'd finally had the strength to pack up his daughter's things, he'd furnished the room with leftovers from a local motel that had gone under. Not that he ever expected to have guests, but he couldn't stand watching the room sit empty, any more than he could stand for Kelly's room to sit unchanged, a daily reminder that Kelly herself would never have the opportunity to change and grow.

So he had redecorated it in the pleasant but coldly impersonal leftovers from the now-demolished motel a couple miles over. None of that had changed; the furniture and linens were just the same. And yet it was not cold, and far from impersonal, he mused. The four dresser drawers each were neatly labeled, names written on masking tape in his scrawling but readable block letters. In the closet hung an odd assortment of clothes from Tony's overpriced suit to Abby's spare tank top and too-short skirt. On the nightstand sat a couple of well-worn books and a notepad, and of course he was clutching the overstuffed teddy bear, wearing a leather collar. Even Kate's presence was still in this room, though he had long ago packed her things away in a box. But if he opened the closet, he knew, her sensible knit pajamas and spare change of business-casual clothes would be there, staring back at him from the top shelf. He had thought to put them up in the attic with Kelly's things, but he knew that Abby sometimes came here to rummage through Kate's box and remember. The family room, Gibbs realized in amusement, wasn't downstairs attached to the dining room. It was up here. Before he retired to his own bed for the night, he pulled the bedding neat, and wiped down the wood surfaces with a washcloth he took from the bathroom across the hall. Dust rarely built up much between occupants in this room, he had long ago learned, and he wanted the room to be ready when it was needed.

As he entered his own bedroom, his mind went back to those early times. He knew it was Abby who'd first slipped through his defenses, though he couldn't remember anymore when it had been, or even why she had stayed with him. He remembered back as far as that silly nightmare she'd had about autopsy, but he knew it had been before that. She had told him about her nightmare, and the resulting phobia, specifically because she was afraid to go home alone, and wanted to stay with him. No, the first time had to have been before that night, or she would have probably waited until she was an exhausted, nervous wreck before she asked for his help. She had been just as frightened the first time, though, he remembered, and she had a way of bringing out the parental instinct that had long lay dormant in him. She was seeking refuge from the storm raging in her heart, and he wanted to provide it. He hadn't counted on having to dismantle his own defenses in order to break down the walls in his team's hearts, he thought with just a touch of dismay coloring his amusement. It was painful at times to let people into his life, but the reward, to be let into his team's lives in return... yeah, it was worth it, he decided. Most of the time, anyway.

A/N: Okay, if you want to get a feel for where I'm going with this, my first tale, Fearful Heart's Refuge, was meant to be a standalone. But, I kept thinking about it, and how it's not just Abby who'd turn to Gibbs in a time of need. So that's where I'm kind of heading... I will probably end up reposting that here as a chapter, and I'm going to be picking out some parts in the series where a good bout of angsty character exploration seems logical. I'm working with Ziva after her jogger friend died, right now. I probably won't write or post in chronological order, so if anybody knows how to re-organize chapters once they're shared, let me know. And I've got a dozen ideas but I welcome requests. I may not be able to do requests, my muse is temperamental, but I never know unless I try, right? Thanks for reading.

Dangit, I wasn't going to do this, it is SO not me, but now I'm getting all weepy and sentimental so I guess I will.

In loving memory of my furry little muse, Caleb. October 7, 1996 - February 26, 2010. Caleb, thank you for sitting by my chair all these years, for always being content with a little cheddar and your squeaky ball, for always listening when I needed to talk, for never minding that you got stuck with a disabled human who couldn't walk as long as you liked, and for never once giving me a bad review.