NCIS – If You Knew Jenny
It had that no-nonsense quality Gibbs liked. Even Dirty Harry knew it: A man's got to know his limitations. And Gibbs knew his own. Of course he was lying to himself, putting himself exactly where he wanted to be in spite of his better judgment. She was his subordinate, and too young –12 years his junior. And the risk, romantic connections in the field were vulnerabilities. For those reasons alone he knew he would keep his distance. But this thing had a weight of its own, a gravity, and these two bodies were going to collide.
Paris – Spring, 1999
They said their goodnights, again. Her bedroom door latched shut and Gibbs leaned into the cool wood, rocking his head from side to side. It felt good against his brow. He had truly believed he was passed this kind of adolescent attraction. But everything about this girl – and that's what she was, barely 30 – had gotten under his skin. Her walk, her smell, the way she laughed and smiled, those eyes –and damn that red hair.
He had spent time in front of the mirror this morning, something he hadn't done in years. And now he was going back into that same room, so acutely aware that she was just on the other side of the wall. His mind wasn't on the case or the dangers it posed.
He unfastened his belt and pulled free his shirt tail. As he worked the buttons his eyes found the full length mirror. Forty had turned his temples gray, but the last few years had treated him well.
"What are you doing, Jethro?" He questioned his own reflection. "Get a good night's sleep and forget this high school crap." He turn away from the mirror and snapped off the nightstand lamp. Hidden in the dark, he finished undressing. The spring air was nice; boxers alone would serve as sleepwear.
They had done good work today. She was smart, had great instincts… as he followed the thought his chest swelled. He punched at his pillow and rolled onto his back. Through clenched teeth he hissed at the ceiling, "This thing is not going away, Jethro. Fix it."
He could hear the water running; the company villa was small and the old pipes hummed within the walls. She was taking a shower. He kicked away the bedding and swung his feet to the floor.
I gotta get out of here, he thought, then aloud, "Just go for a run." He stood and pulled on a clean t shirt, slipped into his running shorts and headed for the hallway. The water had stopped and he paused to listen as he neared her room. He tapped lightly; after a moment the door opened partway.
The two stood in silence. At length, he said, "I was going for a run."
She was waiting for more but he didn't speak. She looked down to his feet and then, curiously, back to his eyes. "Were you going to put on some shoes?"
Special agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs shook his head. "No," the word was barely audible.
Jenny smiled. "That's good," she said, "they're hard on the sheets." And she pulled open the door.
– END