![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Hands
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kaylashay81
Rating: FR13
Disclaimer: I'm not Bellesario or CBS, so I don't claim to own them.
Challenge:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
ncisdrabble100; Challenge #72 - Scar
Word Count: 300
Crossposted:ncisdrabble100; ncis_haven; ncisfanfic
Summary: The marks on their hands tell so much about them.
Eyes are the windows to the soul, but I think hands are the windows to life. Hands contain the marks of the life you’ve lived.
When I first met Tim, his hands were squeaky clean. They were soft and not a mark to be seen. As he became part of the team, his hands started to change in my eyes. It was gradual, but soon there were marks and lines that only came from the field.
Ziva’s hands scared me. The things she could do with them littered my imagination and I shied away from giving her any inclination to use them. She could leave her mark on anyone with those hands, but I didn’t want that person to be me.
Ducky’s hands told a story that spanned the years. Each crease and fold seemed to represent a life that had ended too soon, lives that were given their final peace by the wrinkled fingers that cared for them.
From the day I saw them, Abby’s hands, sometimes laden with rings, called to me. They were strong hands, yet dainty when they needed to be. They would wrap around me when I needed it the most and the warmth that spread from them was more than welcomed. The black lines permanently etched on a few fingers joined the others on her body to tell a story of a free spirit.
The hands I was most familiar with were always there for me. The hands were calloused and tough, just like the man they belonged to. They were soft and kind when I was down or patting my head for something done right, but they were hard as steel when I’d done wrong. They weren’t always gentle, but after time I came to understand; there was always love in Gibbs’ hands.
Note: I wrote this because of an old country song I grew up listening to that always touched me because of how scarred my own father's hands are. The song is called Daddy's Hands and it was sung by Holly Dunn. Below are the lyrics:
I remember Daddy´s hands, folded silently in prayer.
And reaching out to hold me, when I had a nightmare.
You could read quite a story, in the callouses and lines.
Years of work and worry had left their mark behind.
I remember Daddy´s hands, how they held my Mama tight,
And patted my back, for something done right.
There are things that I´ve forgotten, that I loved about the man,
But I´ll always remember the love in Daddy´s hands.
Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin´.
Daddy´s hands, were hard as steel when I´d done wrong.
Daddy´s hands, weren´t always gentle
But I´ve come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy´s hands.
I remember Daddy´s hands, working 'til they bled.
Sacrificed unselfishly, just to keep us all fed.
If I could do things over, I´d live my life again.
And never take for granted the love in Daddy´s hands.
Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin´.
Daddy´s hands, were hard as steel when I´d done wrong.
Daddy´s hands, weren´t always gentle
But I´ve come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy´s hands.
Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin´.
Daddy´s hands, were hard as steel when I´d done wrong.
Daddy´s hands, weren´t always gentle
But I´ve come to understand.
There was always love .....
In Daddy´s hands.
Author:
kaylashay81Rating: FR13
Disclaimer: I'm not Bellesario or CBS, so I don't claim to own them.
Challenge:
ncisdrabble100; Challenge #72 - ScarWord Count: 300
Crossposted:
ncisdrabble100; ncis_haven; ncisfanficSummary: The marks on their hands tell so much about them.
Eyes are the windows to the soul, but I think hands are the windows to life. Hands contain the marks of the life you’ve lived.
When I first met Tim, his hands were squeaky clean. They were soft and not a mark to be seen. As he became part of the team, his hands started to change in my eyes. It was gradual, but soon there were marks and lines that only came from the field.
Ziva’s hands scared me. The things she could do with them littered my imagination and I shied away from giving her any inclination to use them. She could leave her mark on anyone with those hands, but I didn’t want that person to be me.
Ducky’s hands told a story that spanned the years. Each crease and fold seemed to represent a life that had ended too soon, lives that were given their final peace by the wrinkled fingers that cared for them.
From the day I saw them, Abby’s hands, sometimes laden with rings, called to me. They were strong hands, yet dainty when they needed to be. They would wrap around me when I needed it the most and the warmth that spread from them was more than welcomed. The black lines permanently etched on a few fingers joined the others on her body to tell a story of a free spirit.
The hands I was most familiar with were always there for me. The hands were calloused and tough, just like the man they belonged to. They were soft and kind when I was down or patting my head for something done right, but they were hard as steel when I’d done wrong. They weren’t always gentle, but after time I came to understand; there was always love in Gibbs’ hands.
Note: I wrote this because of an old country song I grew up listening to that always touched me because of how scarred my own father's hands are. The song is called Daddy's Hands and it was sung by Holly Dunn. Below are the lyrics:
I remember Daddy´s hands, folded silently in prayer.
And reaching out to hold me, when I had a nightmare.
You could read quite a story, in the callouses and lines.
Years of work and worry had left their mark behind.
I remember Daddy´s hands, how they held my Mama tight,
And patted my back, for something done right.
There are things that I´ve forgotten, that I loved about the man,
But I´ll always remember the love in Daddy´s hands.
Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin´.
Daddy´s hands, were hard as steel when I´d done wrong.
Daddy´s hands, weren´t always gentle
But I´ve come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy´s hands.
I remember Daddy´s hands, working 'til they bled.
Sacrificed unselfishly, just to keep us all fed.
If I could do things over, I´d live my life again.
And never take for granted the love in Daddy´s hands.
Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin´.
Daddy´s hands, were hard as steel when I´d done wrong.
Daddy´s hands, weren´t always gentle
But I´ve come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy´s hands.
Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin´.
Daddy´s hands, were hard as steel when I´d done wrong.
Daddy´s hands, weren´t always gentle
But I´ve come to understand.
There was always love .....
In Daddy´s hands.
Now I need to do a fic for something with Tony walking in with his cowboy boots and painted-on jeans for some kind of undercover assignment. *snicker*
Sing with me ...
"Why'd you come in here lookin' like that
In your cowboy boots and your painted-on jeans
All decked out like a cowgirl's dream
Why'd you come in here looking like that"
I think I'd pay money to see Tony dressed like that- GUH
I just cant stand it
To see him on the town
He's out slow dancing
With every girl around
:-)
And now for my crotch stare inducing icon...
Gibbs is all tied up in knots over his unrequited (sp?) love for Tony and has to watch Tony all decked out like a cowboy for an op and having all the cowgirls hanging all over him.
Gibbs is grumpy and miserable until Tony shows up at Gibbs' house still in "character" and tunes the radio to a slow country song (something old country- like Patsy Cline or Hank Williams) and clues Gibbs in that his feelings are not so "unrequited" after all when he asks Gibbs to dance. And they dance a nice slow two-step all around the boat.
^_^
Gibbs knows that Tony does his best work at night when no one else is around... fits:
I go out walkin'
after midnight,
out in the moonlight
just like we used to do
I'm always walkin'
after midnight searchin' for you.
I walk for miles,
along the highway,
well that's just my way,
of sayin I love you.
I'm always walkin' after midnight
searchin' for you.
And the end:
I go out walkin' after midnight,
out in the starlight,
just hopin' you may be somewhere a walkin'
after midnight searchin' for me
:-)
What an evil little bunny!
This was fantastic and now I need to wipe my eyes, lol!
Court
As always Kayla great work:D