The small room with its door across the stairs had only a single bed, a nightstand, and a wardrobe in it; yet it was so quaint that he had learned to like it.

More often than anyone would have guessed he had slept in there; slept on the same floor with her, only a few steps away from her bedroom. It had been a disturbing and at the same time soothing thought; at least she had been near him.

At home, he had barely slept in a bed; normally he would fall to sleep under or next to his boat. It had been an unbearable thought to sleep in his bedroom; he hadn't since the death of Shannon and although he had been with other women and although he had been in love again, sleeping in this bed was the one thing he still couldn't do.

It wasn't that he didn't want to sleep in a normal bed. Every case that forced them to stay in a hotel was a nice change and of course he preferred lying in a comfortable bed than on the hard floor. But on the other hand, he had gotten used to the hard floor that had helped him more than once to feel that he was still alive.

When Jen had offered him to stay in the guest bedroom for the first time, it had been long before they had become lovers again. He had showed up at her doorstep one evening a few weeks after she had started working as the Director of NCIS, bringing a bottle of Bourbon and some case files with him. He knew she had never expected him to do it, but he had wanted to talk to her about the cases, to listen to her opinion about some things; and he had wanted to see if she still knew how to work and think as an agent.

They had ended up talking till the early morning hours, and because she hadn't wanted him to drive home as tired as he had been and as much as he had drunk, she had told him to stay in her guest bedroom. Complaining would have been stupid, so he just had gone upstairs, showered and then practically fallen into the bed.

He had never slept so well for years.

From this day on, he had often come over to her place, when the silence and dimness of his basement had been about to overwhelm him, or when he had just needed her company. She had never commented on it; maybe because she knew him so well.

He had never tried to follow her into her bedroom; it would have been for her to make the first move. But she never made any attempt to do so and they somehow had managed to ignore the tension between them. Mostly, they used their quarrels and arguments to relieve this tension.

At least for a while.

Used to working till he was too weak and tired to even hold his tools, in the evenings and nights he had been at Jen's house he had often laid awake, even if they had gone to bed late - or early, from a day's point of view.

And he had been thinking a lot, about everything that would come to his mind; but mainly about Jenny and their relationship. In the end, there had always been only one conclusion: He needed her. Nevertheless, she had been the first woman he had been afraid to push; to take the initiative. She had set unmistakable bounds to their relationship and he hadn't wanted to cross them. Because he respected her.

So he had started living in this room; staying more often in her house; the wardrobe slowly filling with his stuff; a seabag always in his car, in case he would stay spontaneously. And the room had always been free for him. She had never sent him away; like she had gotten used to him staying there.

To be honest, he simply hadn't expected this situation to change. They had been friends. Not more. They had been comfortable in each others company, although no one of them would have admitted it openly.

But changes always happened when you were expecting them less. He had left the room around a year after he had been her guest for the first time.

And with that, he had finally entered the house.