ext_31735 ([identity profile] toomuchfandom.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] crack_van2007-02-01 12:01 pm
Entry tags:

Quem Di Diligunt, Adolescens Moritur (only the good die young) by Causticquery (PG-16)

Hey, it's me again!

This time around I'm reccing NCIS. Hope you aren't bored with me yet!

Fandom: NCIS
Genre: slash (Leroy Jethro Gibbs/ Donald "Ducky" Mallard)
Author LJ: [livejournal.com profile] causticquery
Author website: I know she has one... but I forgot...



This is such a beautiful story, written before Hiatus part 1 and 2, stating that Shannon and Kelly Gibbs died in a ‘simple’ car crash, with Shannon being dead immediately and little Kelly hanging on to her life so her daddy could come over from Kuwait on compassionate leave.

This story deals with the loss of a relationship as lovers (Gibbs/Ducky), the loss of a family (Shannon and Kelly), the problems Gibbs had with Shannon and the mending of an old relationship as friends.

Not only is this story moving, it’s also very painful for both sides (Gibbs and Ducky).

Causticquery is someone who knows how to balance emotions very well, she can easily swing from writing sweet (no fluff) to the darker emotions of people. Emotions, that are better left in the dark, usually, but she writes them bareable, truthfully and makes you believe in these emotions without writing the characters totally out of character.



Excerpt:

“We stayed together for Kelly,”

Other times, what was being said negated body language and speculation in one fell swoop and Gibbs fixed his gaze on Ducky, watching for a reaction that he should have known wouldn’t come. Ducky had never judged him, leaving the marine to do that for himself before helping to pick up the pieces. The younger man sighed softly, turning the almost empty glass in his hands.

“Not exactly the best grounds for marriage,”

But it was clear he’d thought it was the right thing to do. In the ten years they had known each other, Gibbs had never been known to do something just for the hell of it, a fact that had reassured Ducky no end the first time they had gone to bed together, full of whisky fire and need. The question of sexuality was a complicated one and an issue that he had pondered often between lovers – though there hadn’t been many of those and none that had meant as much as the man now sat beside him. He had known early on that he was ‘gay’, and suspected that his mother had known almost as long despite one or two dalliances with the fairer sex before medical school. It had never been an issue, though he had learnt quite quickly the need for discretion – a series of well placed blows one Saturday night, down a dark alley in Edinburgh, had instilled him with a well-defined sense of caution in seeking out partners. Others did not necessarily fall on one particular side of the sexuality line, although he was almost certain that bisexuality was not what drove Gibbs. There had been no other men besides Ducky – a thought that he could not deny warmed him through.

“Do you –“ he caught himself, wondering what the right tense to use would be, deciding to stay with Jethro’s and rephrasing accordingly. “Did you, love her?”

Gibbs nodded slowly, “Just not the right way,”

Not the way I loved you, was what he wanted to say, but words like that had never come easily and that hadn’t changed now. Guilt clutched at him even as the thought materialised. His wife was less than twenty-four hours dead, his daughter less than that and he was caught up in feelings for his former homosexual lover. The anger that suddenly flared in the pit of his stomach aimed inwards, and his hands tightened around the cut crystal housing his whisky.

“Love is love, Jethro, whether you perceive it to be in the right way or not. You didn’t marry her for the hell of it and you had a beautiful daughter together – I see very little wrong with that,” Ducky countered softly, squeezing where his hand still rested on his shoulder, the internal anger that had begun to build in Gibbs’ gaze receding as quickly as it had come to be replaced with an overwhelming need to do something.



Quem Di Diligunt, Adolescens Moritur