Pieces of a Dream

Characters: Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Jibbs
Rating: K+
Warning: Character death.
Summary: Perhaps wait another month until he had the courage to be in front of that black stone would be the right choice, the courage to face the fact that another beloved one had left him, once again.
Spoilers: Judgement Day (S05E18 & 19), but I think everyone has seen these two.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I did, Jenny would be alive.
Author's Note: This is the first time I ever wrote something NCIS - related, so be nice. Also this was, probably, my way of dealing with Jenny's death. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

***

The place where he stood was quiet as expected. The calmness emerging throughout the enormous area was actually comforting, something he didn't anticipate. While driving to his current location he kept an intense battle with his brain. He almost knew that this quietness mixed with his feelings would be excruciating for his state of mind and many times he thought that perhaps turning back and going back home wouldn't be such a bad idea; perhaps wait another month until he had the courage to be in front of that black stone would be the right choice, the courage to face the fact that another beloved one had left him, once again. But then, the more he delayed what he had to face, the more he was consumed with his anguish and pain. It was time to let go.

He had been there the day she had been buried; therefore, he knew exactly the location where she had been laid to rest in peace. However in the day of the funeral he all but ran out of the graveyard, far away from the coffin's sight. The thought of knowing that she wouldn't be inside her office once he got to the NCIS Headquarters or inside her study where she used to work from home, made him want to throw up in pain. With that in mind, for the past months, he had thrown himself in work. Yet, when that wasn't possible, he had spent all of his nights working on the ache his heart carried since the day she had been taken away from him, looking at old photographs he had kept from their early years, drinking into oblivion until he passed out in his basement beside the boat he was creating. In the moment he fell asleep, his brain was too fuzzy to recreate memories and because of that he would have dreamless nights only to wake up and believe that she was still among him, perhaps waiting for him to bring fresh coffee or initiate another argument. It would continue to amaze him how naïve the latter fact seemed; his subconscious making him believe that she was still alive.

The tall trees hid most of the once blue sky, but he was still able to see in the horizon the sun setting, turning the sky into different shades of orange; a beautiful sight he could be sharing with her. Maybe while they both sat in her barely used living room, with the fireplace lit and each one holding a glass of bourbon in hand, staring out the window. His arm would be around her shoulders as she curled up her body against his, seeking for comfort and support after a stressful day at work, since he was the only one who had the ability to relax her body and mind. He smiled at the image he pictured in his mind. That could have been, easily, both of them if they had left their pride and stubbornness behind and said what they truly meant to each other. But they didn't. And she wasn't with him now. All of those images he visualized in his mind were pieces of a dream that would never come true.

He sighed. It was darker now, but he could still see the green grass beneath his shoes and sat down feeling the coldness of it passing through his trousers into his skin. Closing his eyes for a moment he let his mind drift away from her. He could see the flashes that went through his mind as if it was trying to find memories of another time; another life he had shared with another person. And there it was; a petite female figure belonging to another woman who had crossed his path in his early years. He could easily see her red hair shining as it was fire and her easy smile upon her lips. He couldn't help but smile back at her. The need to reach out, caress her cheek with his hand and watch as her head leaned into his touch, almost involuntarily, was too real. Shannon he heard himself whisper has tears formed in his eyes. Flashes of moments he had shared with her and their little girl, Kelly, showed up behind his eyes in black and white like a classic movie. He could hear the laughs, see the tears and the looks; all the moments of his dead wife and daughter were there and it all felt too real and now too painful to remind. He had failed both of them and after so many years he had learned to live without them; without all the warm and happiness they had brought him and the only person who had showed him that it was possible to live after that; after what he had considered to be the end of his world, by some dreadful twist of fate, wasn't living anymore.

Slowly he opened his eyes to find darkness. The graveyard was, now, lit only by the moonlight that shone from the pitch-dark sky. He looked at the grave in front of him and even though there wasn't enough light to read what was written on the stone, he knew what it said.

Jennifer Victoria Shepard,
Beloved friend.
The eternal partner who won't be forgotten.

Jethro Gibbs felt his vision being clouded by the unshed tears at the last words. He had thought that their partnership had ended the day she left him in Paris, the day she had shattered his heart in million pieces, a day he had cursed himself for letting such woman get under his skin. At that time, they would never guess what the future held to both; they had no idea that six years later they would meet again, but this time she wouldn't be another agent, she would be his boss as the Director of NCIS. He remembers perfectly that particularly moment when he set eyes on her again, the moment she said his name. He had stopped breathing while the beating of his heart increased and his mind was filled, on its own record, with memories of them rolling on a king-sized bed, making love. It felt like it had been the day before, for he could listen, smell, see, taste and feel everything about her in his memory. In that day his Jen had reappeared in his life, and a new whole partnership had been created. He had learnt how to forgive her for breaking his heart years ago, and even though they hadn't picked up their relationship from where they had left it, they accustomed themselves as friends. Everyone, including them, could sense the chemistry between the special agent and the director and the sexual tension whenever they fought, but after three years of working together again, neither Jenny nor Jethro made the final step to take the relationship to another level, once again. Now he couldn't help but cry out in frustration. Coffee and glasses shared, midnight take-out, glasses of bourbon, being able to read each other's mind, mutual smiles and looks. Getting to know a new Jen and discover that she could still be his old Jen only to have her stolen from him once more. It wasn't fair for either of them.

He reached into his pocket and took out a crumpled sheet of paper. It was the letter he had found in her desk, directed to him with only two words written. Dear Jethro. A single tear rolled down his face. He hadn't cried before. Between passing out in his basement and recovering to be able to keep working as a field agent, his brain wouldn't let him produce the tears he needed to let fall to relieve some of his hurt. Why hadn't Jenny finished it? What had stopped her? Did she want to tell him what she was going to write face to face? Did she want for him to look in her eyes while she was talking? So he could see the truth in them? What would she say? Would she tell him about her disease? That she was dying a slow and painful death, that she needed him? Would she want to make the final step? The entire package of unanswered question invaded his mind, though he tried to block them. She died protecting someone. Who? You. And then there were Mike's words and the look on his face. How much had she told him while they were waiting for all hell to break loose in that diner? She died protecting me. If she had talked, if she hadn't acted on her own, if she had asked for his help they could have fought that battle together and she could have been alive right now and he wouldn't be seated on the graveyard's grass at this time of the night looking at her grave; he wouldn't be feeling helpless and guilty for not being there with her. They could have ended up together or not, but at least for all that mattered, she would be alive and not dead, buried under the soil. She died on her own terms. He repeated to himself Ducky's words. It could hurt and make him feel guilty for not being there for her, but aside those two feelings he couldn't help but respect his former lover's actions.

Jethro got up and put his hand on the black stone. The tears that hadn't been cried in time were now falling down his cheeks like a river's current running down to the sea. He couldn't hold them now, nor did he want to stop them.

"I'm sorry, Jenny." he whispered so low that he wasn't even sure if it had been his imagination saying it. "I'm so sorry." the tears were ceasing, but the sobs shook his body like uncontrollable electric jolts.

So wrapped up in his own pain and grief, Jethro didn't realize that he wasn't alone anymore in that place. Only when a soft hand grabbed his shoulder did he notice that he had company. He looked up and was half surprised to see her there. She had been crying too, he observed. Her eyes were slightly red and bright from the tears. Without a word shared, she put her arms around him and they embraced each other, trying to find the strength to move on, seeking the closure that everything would be alright. They mourned together for a friend lost too early. After minutes that felt like hours, they disentangled from each other's arms and he grabbed her hand.

"Why are you here, Abs?" he looked at the younger woman who he thought of as a daughter.

"You didn't answer your phone." she answered quietly, staring at the stone in front of them, blinking back the new tears that were threatening to fall.

"How did you know I was here?"

Abby let a small smile grace her features. "I traced your cell phone." she stopped, looking at him, searching for any sign of reprimand. He simple nodded and she continued. "I was worried, Gibbs; me and everybody else were. You haven't been yourself since...since the director's death." she whispered and lifted her eyes to look into the familiar blue ones. "We want the old Gibbs back."

Jethro squeezed her hand and lifted it up to place a soft kiss on its back. "It's not easy, Abs."

The pain in his voice, the pain that not many had the chance to hear, was present and Abby fought her inner urge to throw her arms around him again. It wouldn't do any good, since Gibbs was a man who was used to grieve on his own, not wanting the comfort from anyone. Only him, his boat and a bottle of bourbon. Abby nodded, though he didn't see. His eyes focused on the grave, his mind elsewhere.

"We should go home. It's too late to be here." she offered a gentle squeeze to his hand as if trying to bring him back away from his memories. Jenny's death had hit them all so hard. Neither of them had fully recovered from that blown, but little by little they had familiarized themselves to a world without their director, however Abby and the rest of the team, could effortlessly see that for Gibbs it was taking a little while. Yet, now, she could notice that he wasn't so tense like he had been, the burden he has been carrying seemed to be lifting from his shoulders. All in all, he looked relieved. Jenny wasn't there anymore. She wouldn't steal his coffee nor smile mischievously at him anymore. He had faced the truth that Jenny wouldn't be back, no matter how hard it was to think through that.

He nodded at her statement. She was right, after all. It was too late to be in a graveyard. Gibbs placed a kiss on the black stone and whispered something that Abby thought to be an "I love you". The gesture brought fresh tears to her eyes, but made her smile, nevertheless.

With his arm around Abby's shoulders, Jethro walked away from the dark place but he didn't walk away from Jenny. No. He would carry her with him all the time and even if everything he held in his memory seemed like little pieces of a dream he had shared with her, everything had been their pieces of a dream.

fin.