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Contact / HMD
Jan. 1st, 2015 12:00 amNeed to contact the mun for Ari? Comment here, or PM.
(no subject)
Dec. 2nd, 2010 10:36 pm“I’ll inform Mr. Le Gode that my employment with him is terminated,” is what she says, when he tells her he’s left the police force.
“Why?” he snaps.
“Because you will need a scientist.” Her eyes pin him to the wall. He remembers Abby. There’s a sour taste in the back of his throat.
He doesn’t accept her. Not really. Leaves her behind, ignores her, only with great reluctance turns over samples for processing. But she quietly slips into his life, just the same. Smooth words, smooth voice. She takes clients, seduces them with the pull of her personality, hands them over to Gibbs.
He doesn’t accept her, though. Not until a night when his hands are spotted with blood, knuckles bruised, and the man tied to a chair before him is half-unconscious.
He can still smell the house. Still see the ghost-white image of the man’s child, the red needle marks over her arms, the collection of syringes. The filth.
This is when Ari steps forward, gun in hand, and shoots the man through the skull. One shot.
Gibbs snaps. He takes her out. He takes her down, lands on top of her with the gun skittering away across empty concrete.
“Why’d you kill him?”
“Because you wanted to,” she tells him. There is no fear in her eyes.
He knows she’s right.
She’s in his life now. At night, when the baby stirs, makes distressed noises, sometimes it’s Gibbs who rises from sleep, murmurs in Ari’s ear that she should sleep, he’ll take care of it. It’s he who cradles Mia, feeds her, comforts her until she falls back asleep.
He’s seen Ari with her hair tangled, eyes red. Seen her sick, seen her distressed, seen her with the unguarded happiness that isn’t borne of manipulation.
As for the Ari in his universe: he’d kill the bastard.
As for this Ari: he doesn’t think he ever could.
“Why?” he snaps.
“Because you will need a scientist.” Her eyes pin him to the wall. He remembers Abby. There’s a sour taste in the back of his throat.
He doesn’t accept her. Not really. Leaves her behind, ignores her, only with great reluctance turns over samples for processing. But she quietly slips into his life, just the same. Smooth words, smooth voice. She takes clients, seduces them with the pull of her personality, hands them over to Gibbs.
He doesn’t accept her, though. Not until a night when his hands are spotted with blood, knuckles bruised, and the man tied to a chair before him is half-unconscious.
He can still smell the house. Still see the ghost-white image of the man’s child, the red needle marks over her arms, the collection of syringes. The filth.
This is when Ari steps forward, gun in hand, and shoots the man through the skull. One shot.
Gibbs snaps. He takes her out. He takes her down, lands on top of her with the gun skittering away across empty concrete.
“Why’d you kill him?”
“Because you wanted to,” she tells him. There is no fear in her eyes.
He knows she’s right.
She’s in his life now. At night, when the baby stirs, makes distressed noises, sometimes it’s Gibbs who rises from sleep, murmurs in Ari’s ear that she should sleep, he’ll take care of it. It’s he who cradles Mia, feeds her, comforts her until she falls back asleep.
He’s seen Ari with her hair tangled, eyes red. Seen her sick, seen her distressed, seen her with the unguarded happiness that isn’t borne of manipulation.
As for the Ari in his universe: he’d kill the bastard.
As for this Ari: he doesn’t think he ever could.
