The bullpen was quiet, just the low hum of the lights and the rain tapping the windows. You’d been on desk duty for a week now — Gibbs’ idea of keeping you out of the field until things “settled.” You’d argued, of course, but it didn’t matter. When Gibbs said something, it stuck.

He was at his desk, as usual, coffee in hand, pretending to read a report. The man never really rested, not even when he sat still. You’d caught him watching you a few times that day — not out of suspicion, just that quiet kind of concern he never said out loud.

You leaned back, tired, eyes falling on the pen in front of you. You wished — stupidly — that it would just roll away, something to break the monotony.

And then it did.

It wasn’t much. Just a small twitch, like it caught a breeze. Except there wasn’t one. You froze. Watched it. Waited. It shifted again.

The sound it made against the desk was soft, but enough to make Gibbs look up.

He studied you for a long moment. “What was that?”

You swallowed. “The pen— it moved.”

He blinked once. “Yeah. That’s what happens when you bump the desk.”

“I didn’t touch it,” you said, too fast.

Gibbs’ eyes narrowed slightly. He leaned back, folding his arms. “You’re telling me that thing moved on its own?”

You hesitated, heart still pounding. “Yeah. I think I… made it move.”

That got a quiet snort from him. “You been getting enough sleep?”

“It’s not— I’m serious, Gibbs.” You could hear the edge in your own voice.

He looked at you, unflinching. “You’re tired. Happens to all of us. You start seeing things, hearing things that aren’t there. Take a walk, get some air.”

But you didn’t move. You just stared at the pen — and before you could second-guess it, it lifted. Not far, just an inch, suspended in the air for a heartbeat before dropping back down with a sharp tap.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Gibbs didn’t speak right away. He just stared at the pen, then at you. His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing — not scared, but trying to understand.

Finally, he exhaled slowly. “Alright,” he said, voice low. “You got my attention.”

He nodded once, motioning toward the pen. “Do it again.”