A/N: There will be an update on 'A Past Reminder' this week, I'm hoping by Wednesday. Another cheer-up one-shot for Marisa-don't watch 'Country Strong' again! Hope this fits what you wanted! And, this takes place in early season five, after 'Bury Your Dead' and 'Ex-File', starts off slightly angsty, but then there's beautiful fluff :)
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or plotline of NCIS.
She hated thinking.
Because when she got to thinking, she dredged up thoughts of were sometimes better left unthought.
And yet, here she sat.
Thinking.
"Damn," she said, but no one was in the room to hear. She took another deep drink from her tumbler, the bourbon burning her esophagus on the way down.
She sat in her study, a stack of unread files on her desk, a tumbler in her hand, and a hair crackling in the hearth. She'd had every intention of getting work done, but one look at the study where only a few weeks ago Rene Benoit had stood.
She'd come so close to finally exacting her revenge on the one man she would forever hate.
But who had stood in the way? Well, the one man that she would forever love-Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
She cursed him under her breath again; it felt like the hundredth time. Why had he had to arrive at just that moment? Why had he had to stop her?
"Why do you have to be so damn infuriating?" she asked softly, snapping at thin air, wishing her words would receive an answer.
"I hope you aren't talking about me."
She looked up, finding the one man she didn't want to see leaning against the door frame of her study. Her eyes widened, and she set her tumbler on the desk and swallowed, trying to find the words to answer.
"Why would it matter to you?" she asked, her tone biting as she regarded him. He shrugged slightly, lifting his shoulders unevenly, one higher than the other.
"Guess I deserve that," he replied, and her frown deepened at his indifference.
"Jethro, what do you want?" she asked, sighing. She was fighting too many demons tonight to try to deal with him and all the memories he evoked within her. He remained silent, tilting his head at her as his eyes ran over her body, studying her reactions and the emotions that were clear in her face and body language.
Jenny stood, unable to sit any longer. She walked over to the fire and bent over it slightly, adjusting one of the logs before adding another one, hoping to ward off the chill that had entered the room. She bent a little further, and heard the slight intake of breath behind her.
"Stop starin' at my ass," she said, her voice muffled slightly from within the fireplace. She heard him clear his throat behind her, and she hid her grin as she turned around to face him. "Gonna answer my question?"
But still, he didn't answer. Instead, he came closer, and her breath caught in her throat when his hand rose to touch her face. His thumb brushed her cheekbone, and she resisted the urge to close her eyes and turn into him. Instead she swallowed and raised an eyebrow in question, her stomach knotting up.
"Had some soot," he answered, and she nodded slightly, swallowing again.
"Still haven't answered my question," she replied, but her voice was a little hoarse.
"There soot in your throat too?" Jethro asked, but his voice had become rougher; his eyes were darkening in the dark light of the room, the crackle of the fire behind them as they stood, closer than they had in the recent months.
"Maybe," she answered, realizing how disastrous this could get. But she continued to play the game; she wouldn't back down first.
"Need some help getting it out?" Jethro asked, and that's when Jenny knew that this was it; it was do or die now.
"You willing?" she asked, her green eyes dark and yet bright at the same time, the flames flickering in the depths of her viridian irises.
"You offering?" he countered, and she raised an eyebrow, caught.
"What about Hollis?" she asked, watching as his eyes flickered, but he answered.
"On a plane to Hawaii."
"And you?" Jenny asked, her voice saying how much she waiting for his answer.
"I'm staying right here," he replied, and her lips flickered up into a smile.
"That a promise?" she asked, not stopping him as one of his hands reached for hers, linking their fingers easily-almost as if it was an every day occurrence. It felt so natural.
"Always for you," he answered, and the smile she gave him now was a full-blown one.
"Then feel free to help me clear the soot from my throat," she answered, and a smirk slid on to his face. "Just know that now you may be as black as soot now."
"That just means you'll have to help me clean it off now, won't it?" he asked, and a laugh slid out from between her lips, the sound crisp and clear in the small room.
"That what you want?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, letting her loose crimson curls spill over her shoulders.
"No," he said quietly, stepping closer to her. "This is what I want."
And with that he leaned down, pressing his lips to hers for the first time in eight years.
And it had never felt so good.
Ten years later, in that same study, a fire flared, illuminating the room.
Laying the floor were two children, their red hair glowing from the flames. A little girl and a little boy were coloring in the glow of the flames, their parents watching them.
"Soot has never looked so good," Jenny said, pointing to the tiny black streak on their daughter's cheek.
Jethro couldn't help but agree.