A/N: Um... hi guys... been awhile since I've been here *awkward laughter* Life's been pretty busy. But enough of my lame excuses. I've been rewatching season five and this idea wouldn't leave me alone. I've read some really fantastic S5E6, Chimera, fics (seriously, go give them a read) and I wanted to write my own take on it. So without further ado...
Oh! And shoutout to pockethuman for beta reading!!
Disclaimer: Yep, that's right. Don't own it. If I did, this would've happened on the show.
It was over. The Chimera was destroyed.
Director Jennifer Shepard looked at the MTAC screen in shock. She knew that no one was supposed to know of the ship's existence but she didn't think the Navy would blow up the whole thing with her agents still on board just to keep it a secret. She glanced over to the pig of a commander who'd been an absolute pain for a good majority of the day. His lips were quirked upwards in a smug grin. After hours of controlling her rage, the redhead finally lost it.
"Explain!" She demanded, nostrils flaring and fists clenched menacingly at her sides.
Skinner threw her an amused smirk. "That, Director, was a missile."
She felt her nails dig further into her palm. Yep, there'd be bruises later. "I got that part." She snarled. "What I don't get is why you had to use one on NCIS's agents, medical examiner, and liaison officer to Mossad. Explain that to me."
The commander shrugged casually. "They knew too much. Can't have civilians know what was on that ship."
"Those civilians were my people! MY people, Skinner! There's no way in hell you didn't have control over this, am I right?"
He stared at her blankly.
The director grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled his face mere inches away from her own. "Answer me," she demanded in a low growl. She was satisfied to see fear race across his features. However, this didn't last long.
Noticing their closeness, Skinner didn't hesitate to give her another eldritch smirk. "To answer your question: yes. It was too risky to let them live." His smile suddenly turned flirtatious but no less creepy as he gave her a once over; his gaze lingering longer than appropriate on her chest, "Are you always this demanding, Madam Director?"
She released his collar a turned on her heel to storm over to one of the other agents in the room. "Escort him to interrogation."
"Yes, ma'am."
"You can't do that!"
"I can and I will." Her voice was ice.
The only thing that stopped her from seriously injuring the man was the fact that she still had people in the room, however, none of the tech team would've blamed her for wanting to keelhaul the commander.
Skinner was promptly ushered from the room, handcuffs firmly in place, while the director walked over to her faithful assistant looking wearier than she had since the Frog incident.
"Cynthia? Can you schedule a meeting for me with SecNav in the morning? I think he should be made aware of what occurred tonight."
"Of course, ma'am."
"Thank you."
Jenny walked out of MTAC almost robotically. When she'd made it to the safety of her office, her eyes immediately glanced over to her liquor cabinet, tempted by the bourbon and scotch in the crystal bottles. As much as she wanted to lose herself in the amber liquid, she couldn't. Not now. She hadn't told Abby what had happened yet. She was numb.
They were gone.
She autonomously grabbed a small, duffle bag hidden under the liquor cabinet and threw her cellphone on the couch on her way out. She couldn't face Abby now, not when she needed to get her own emotions under control first.
The fluorescent lighting of the empty gym greeted her as she dropped the small, black duffle unceremoniously near the line of punching bags. Having already changed into her workout attire, she tied her hair back into a low ponytail, cursing it's length. One of the many things she was currently cursing actually. Her hands were shaking, making it harder to wrap them in the athletic tape. It didn't help that her vision had started to blur with tears that she refused to let fall.
She started off slow, trying to loosen the stiffness that had been in her shoulders all day.
Jab, jab, cross, jab, jab, cross...
Precise. Accurate. Controlled.
How the hell could she have allowed this to happen?
Jab, jab, cross, jab, jab, cross, uppercut...
She couldn't stop reliving the moment the missile hit the Chimera.
Jab, front kick, jab, cross, jab, uppercut, jab, cross...
Warm tears began to mix with sweat as she thought of the people she'd lost.
Ducky: a man who had become a father figure.
Jab, jab, cross, jab, jab, cross...
McGee: an agent who had so much life ahead of him.
Jab, jab, cross, jab, jab, cross, uppercut...
Tony: a loyal friend and confidant, even when she didn't deserve one.
Jab, front kick, jab, cross, jab, uppercut, jab, cross...
Her movements became more frantic.
Ziva: a lifesaver on countless occasions and her best friend.
Jab, jab, cross, jab, jab, cross...
And Jethro: the man she couldn't seem to stop loving.
Both of her fists slammed into the bag and her vision blurred as she released a sob. Loose, sweaty strands of copper hung limply around her face as she pressed her forehead onto the cool leather of the bag.
They were dead.
And it was all. Her. Fault.
She felt a warm, masculine hand on her shoulder.
Not wanting to be disturbed, the angry redhead turned and threw a well-aimed right hook to the man behind her. However, the man expected this and caught her small, taped up hand before she made contact with his jaw. Her eyes widened in shock.
"I almost get blown up and this is the 'welcome home' I receive, Jen?"
Jenny threw her arms around Gibbs' torso and clung to him as if her life depended on it. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and took in the comforting smell of coffee and saw dust. He was safe.
She was sure she was staining his jacket with her tears, and she knew she was covered in sweat, but she honestly couldn't care less. She could've lost him. Hell, she'd come close to losing him on more than one occasion, but this was more than that. She'd practically watched him die, something far different than receiving a phone call telling her that there'd been an accident. When they were partners, he'd ended up shot plenty of times but she'd always been there to hold him after, silently reassuring herself that he was okay.
Now that she thought about it, this was the most physical contact they'd had in years, that is, if you don't include hospital visits and even then all she did was hold his hand.
He also wasn't reciprocating.
She dropped her arms and stepped back, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly. She felt her cheeks heat up and was sure that her face matched her hair. Her eyes hesitantly looked up to meet his. He seemed almost in shock.
"I'm uh… I'm glad you're okay, Jethro."
When he didn't respond, she turned and went to gather her things; trying to get away from him as quickly as possible. How could she be so stupid? He almost gets blown up and she attacks him with a bear hug; something completely out of character for her. Correction. Out of character for the Director. Jenny, on the other hand, practically craved physical affection and his subtle rejection, no matter how odd her behavior was, hurt.
Jenny had just bent down to grab her duffle when she felt familiar, calloused fingers tentatively brush her shoulder once more. She stood up and turned to face him.
He looked absolutely exhausted.
His fingers crept down to her wrist and pulled her toward him without saying a word; silently pleading with her to comply.
She didn't resist.
His arms came to wrap around her thin frame; one hand resting at the small of her back while the other was placed between her shoulder blades. It wasn't until after she had dropped her bag and she leaned into his embrace did he tighten his hold on her and bury his nose next to her temple, his breath ghosting her ear.
She held him just as fiercely while closing her eyes tightly and simply marveling in the fact that he was here with her. Having him this close again suddenly stirred up emotions that she had attempted to bury almost eight years ago (not that she was counting or anything). She nuzzled against the warm skin of his neck and inhaled deeply as if trying to memorize the smell of sawdust, bourbon, and something distinctly Jethro. If time chose to cease existing at this very moment, she'd be perfectly okay with that.
"Jethro?"
His fingers trailed along her spine, softly caressing her back, and his tired gaze met hers.
"Do you think, I mean, just for tonight, that we could maybe uh…"
Since when had she become so uncertain of herself. His smirk wasn't helping.
"Do you think that I could not be director for awhile? Just be Jenny? I know we have a lot to talk about and I know you probably couldn't care less but tonight I really… I just…" She looked down at her feet. "I miss you."
"What changed your mind?"
Well that certainly wasn't the response she'd been expecting.
She looked back up at him, his eyes boring into hers as if he were trying to see the very depths of her soul. "I never stopped missing you, Jethro. I've just realized that life is short and I'm tired of pretending that I don't care about you. So," her voice raised slightly, forcing herself to be confident when she felt anything but, "just for tonight, can we go back to being partners? Jen and Jethro without the titles?"
He continued to stare at her to the point where she began to fidget. Eventually, his rough voice broke the uneasy silence. "No."
She reared back as if she'd been slapped but he was quick to pull her back, holding her firmly against his chest as his lips brushed her ear. "I don't want you to be Jen just for tonight. I want you to be her all the time." She felt his forehead gently bump hers and her eyes fluttered closed.
She smiled.
"I think I can manage that."
A/N: Thanks for reading!