AN: Bonjour, Namaste/Salaam, 안녕하세요 Here we are, a new story! This story is a gift for Gina Callen that I promised her ages ago. I hope you all love it of course, but it's really a labor of love for her. As always thank you to Melbelle for taking me from good to Fantastic!

Jennifer Shepard slipped on her Gucci sunglasses and sighed with delight as a cool breeze blew through her fiery red hair. She'd always enjoyed stops in Los Angeles. Between the good weather, the shopping, and the food scene, she seized the chance for a mini-vacation in her favorite city in the USA as often as possible. She loved indulging in some benign people watching, soaking up the precious moments of peace and relaxation.

"Enjoy it while you can, my dear Jennifer. Soon, moments like this will vanish with the path you're on," a warm, gruff, and motherly voice said from behind her.

Jenny turned with a bright smile on her face. "You're slipping, Aunty! I saw you though the window across the street," she stood, enveloping her godmother in a hug. "You look tired," she chided.

"The office in San Diego is a disaster!" the older woman fumed. "I always knew Carson was a fool, but to be a fool and disorganized is just disgraceful."

"Don't worry, Auntie. A little bird told me Carson is taking an early retirement. Now, let's get our table. I'm starved!"

The two ladies followed the Maître to their own secluded corner of the garden patio at The Ivy. The serene greenery and delicious floral scented air created a peaceful and refreshing atmosphere. Jenny did her best to ignore the few turned heads and hushed whispers of some of the bolder men. Part of her felt giddy that despite being on the wrong side of thirty-five, she could still turn heads. The part of her that worked to become the first female Director of an armed Federal Agency (as well as one of the youngest, her vanity reminded her) wanted to kick in the teeth of every one of them. She sat down in her chair and took a deep breath of the floral scented breeze.

Hetty patted her hand and sighed. "Women like us are a strange breed, Jenny my girl. We glory in our ambition, and we achieve great things. We make one great sacrifice after another for the sake of our duty and save the world. Even with all that, we want to be thought of as soft and beautiful, yet we resent it all the same because of professional pride. Yes, my girl, we're a strange breed."

"I still don't know why they chose me to replace Morrow, Auntie. Don't get me wrong," she exclaimed. "I worked hard for this, and nothing will stop me, but I still can't believe they didn't even bother to ask you," her lovely lips curled in disgust at the discourtesy shown to her beloved godmother.

"My dear, 'the powers that be' are very well aware that I'd never accept the position. I'm not strong enough to make the choices you'll be making. I never have been and I never will be. It's just that simple. I'm happy with where I am, Jenny, I'm where I belong. I'll clean up Carson's mess in San Diego so that Leon can concentrate on his new duties. Carson seems to regard Cyber Crimes as the domain of teenagers living in mom's basement. I've even poached a young prodigy from Steve Jobs," she added with a devious wink. "He's a surfer with a deplorable sense of dressing, but he has the sweetest heart and one of the quickest minds it's ever been my privilege to meet. His name is Eric, and he'll do wonderfully."

"Sounds perfect," Jenny chuckled as a young waitress approached the table.

"Good morning, Ladies! Welcome to the most insane brunch menu I've ever seen," she chirped, smiling brightly. "It's a perfect day for some girl's-only indulgence. May I start you both off with some drinks?"

"Hello, Emily," Hetty greeted. "How was the audition?"

The pretty brunette flushed with happiness, shaking with excitement. "Oh, Mrs. Dawes, thank you so much for the introduction. I landed the part! I'm Nina!" she giggled with delight.

"That's wonderful, dearie! It's a wonderful role. I know you'll do it justice," Hetty assured, overjoyed at the young girl's success.

"I don't know how I'll ever manage the accent though," she sighed. "I'm from North Dakota! It might have similar winters to Russia, but I speak like a girl from North Dakota."

Hetty took a card out of her purse and pressed it into Emily's hand. "You call this number, and tell Yuri that Vera says you'll make an excellent pupil. He'll take you right away, and he won't charge you for the lessons. If you absolutely insist on offering some form of payment, then offer singing lessons for his six year old daughter Olga."

"What would I do without you, Mrs. Dawes? Again, thank you so very much. Now, I must take your drink orders before I'm fired," she giggled.

"I'll have a Black Pearl, dearie."

"Very good, Mrs. Dawes. What would you like Ms.—"

"Shepard," Jenny supplied with a warm smile. "Congratulations on your new job. I start one soon myself. I'll have a Scarlatti."

"Very good, Ms. Shepard. Congratulations on your new job! Let's hope we both make a splash. I'll be back in just a few minutes."

"She's sweet," Jenny said with a knowing grin. "Is she one of yours?"

"She's a foster sister of one of them. Emily wouldn't remember her since she was so little. It was a short placement for my girl. A lovely couple from North Dakota adopted Emily. She's always been a pretty thing, and when I saw her waitressing at a local diner where she was busier dodging hands than serving hash I decided to help. I told her about a job here, and gave her a few tips here and there, the rest she's done on her own. She's smart, and talented. It's almost a shame. She'd be perfect for diplomatic work."

"Auntie, if all the people who were perfect for our jobs actually did our jobs, we'd have a very small population to do all the things our work lets them do in relative peace," the younger woman stated with her usual pragmatism. "That said, the poor thing has it worse than I do. I'm guaranteed to make a splash even if I fail."

"You, my dearest Jennifer, will not fail! You were made for this job, and the only way you could possibly fail is if you chicken out!" the older woman reproached with a stern tone.

"Auntie, you and I both know the only thing I'm capable of chickening out at is love," Jenny tossed back. "Don't worry, I'll make you proud."

"I am proud of you, Jenny. All you have to do now is keep believing in yourself."

"Hetty," Jenny whispered, causing Hetty to straighten in surprise. "You are the strongest woman I know. You've put huge cracks in nearly every glass ceiling in United States intelligence community since the Second World War. You are gifted with more natural intelligence and more experience than all of the directors of the FBI, the CIA, the NSA, and the Secret Service! If you say you're not strong enough to do this job, how can you possibly be certain I can?"

"When Sullivan died, I wanted to quit. That's why I cannot do this job! You would never even consider quitting even if Leroy was killed in the line. There are many kinds of strength, my girl. You have one that I am entirely without."

For an instant, Jennifer felt her green eyes sting and burn as if she'd chopped a bag of onions. Her heart sped up as adrenaline flooded her blood, due to the terror of the thought of Jethro dying under her watch. Fortunately, it faded as quickly as it came. She took off her sunglasses and pushed them on the top of her head. "You didn't quit, Auntie. For the record, that crack about Jethro was a low-blow," she added, with a weak glare. "Besides, he'd be angrier with me if I quit over that than he will be when he finds out that I'm his new boss. I just hope I don't cringe at the look on his face when he sees me behind that desk."

"You won't," Hetty assured, squeezing her Goddaughter's hand. "However, now that the subject has been broached, I will admit I am concerned about the emotional fallout of you and Leroy in the same city."

Jennifer frowned, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Before she could launch into the speech she'd rehearsed to defend herself, Emily came to the table, balancing their drinks on a tray. "Here we are, Ladies. The bartender has been trying to get me to go on a date for the past three months. It's never going to happen because he cheated on his last girlfriend with a hooker, but I did ask him to make these extra special because my favorite patron had come in. They should be good. Troy is a pig of a guy, but he's a world class Mixologist."

"It looks wonderful, dearie!" Hetty exclaimed, making sure to appear and sound like a wealthy senior citizen enjoying brunch and a lovely afternoon. "I haven't had a Black Pearl since the last time I was here."

"Well, I hope this one is better than the last," Emily replied with a smile. "Here you are, Ms. Shepard. The Scarlatti is one of my favorites, I love Champagne. In fact, it's the only alcohol I drink. Unfortunately, I can only get a fix when we add a new cocktail," she giggled.

"Well, an old flame got me hooked on Bourbon, but I love strawberries and Champagne more than nearly anything," Jenny sighed happily. "Thank you, Emily, it looks incredible."

"You're very welcome. Now, do you ladies know what you'd like to eat, or should I make myself scares for a while?"

"I know what I would like to eat, what about you, Jenny my girl?" Hetty asked, sounding every bit the doting old-lady aunt.

"I know what I want. Auntie, you go first," Jenny answered, holding in a peal of laughter at her favorite Godmother's act.

"Emily, dearie, I'll have the Scottish Smoked Salmon Benedict and a glass of the Fresh Fuji Apples mixed with Fresh Carrot Juice."

"I'll have the Mesquite Grilled 6 oz. Kobe New York Steak with Eggs and the Mixed Fresh Berry Frappé. This is where I become the annoying patron. I need the steak rare, not medium-rare, and not semi-rare, I need it truly rare." Jennifer expected to see the girl's eyes get wide and become irritated with yet another picky customer.

Instead of that, the young woman threw back her head and laughed. "I like my beef to moo on the plate myself, and any relative or friend of Mrs. Dawes is a VIP with me." Then, she leaned in and dropped her voice. "Once, a very famous socialite threw The Super Model at me because it wasn't, 'cold enough.' Trust me, a rare steak is important! How would you like your eggs?"

"Poached please."

"Good, would you like a side of Hollandaise?"

"Is that what you recommend?"

"Ms. Shepard, I'm a good mid-western girl. If I say to put sauce on a good steak, then trust me that this steak can handle it," Emily assured.

"Hollandaise, it is."

"If I'm not back in ten minutes, you can dock my tip, ladies."

"One moment, dearie," Hetty interjected. "Jenny-girl, why don't we treat ourselves to a double order of the Fresh Wild Maine Lobster Hash with Homemade Herbal Hollandaise?"

"I think all this Hollandaise will make me live in the gym the rest of the year while only eating salads, but what the heck, who knows when I'll be getting back here," Jennifer agreed. It felt so good to have this day before she entered the fray of Washington.

"I'll be back," Emily winked, and scurried away for their food.

Hetty unfolded her napkin, laid it on her lap, and took a long sip of her Black Pearl. "Now, where were we?"

Jennifer took a shorter sip of her drink and crossed her arms. "You were talking about the potential emotional fallout of Jethro and I being in the same city. I was just about to throw a very polite and respectful fit based on the fact that you just told me that I could do this job even if he was killed on my watch. However, this drink is fantastic, and I'm feeling quite relaxed, so do you want to tell me why you think there could be emotional fallout?"

"Jenny," Hetty spoke softly, hoping the younger woman would understand that her concerns were personal, not professional. "I know you can handle Leroy and any of the dustups that will certainly follow when he finds you in that office. That does not mean that you won't be hurt, and that does not mean Leroy won't be hurt. You are my Goddaughter; your mother was one of the dearest friends that I have ever had the honor of having in my eventful life. I do not want you to end up like me! You might not be a fresh-faced sassy miss anymore, but you're still young enough so that you can avoid my fate. I also have a tremendous fondness for Leroy, and although he might be one of the most difficult men I have ever met, the man has endured more pain then even Castro could ever deserve. When I say I'm concerned, I'm not talking about you two setting fire to MTAC. I'm talking about what happens when you both go home at night!"

"Jethro might build a boat with my name on it and do whatever else he does. I will do what I always do on a bad day: go home, have a double shot of Bourbon, take a bath, and go to bed." 'Wearing his t-shirt and boxers that you stole from Paris,' her conscience chided. Shoving the thought down, she continued in her most composed and rational voice. "It is what it is, Hetty. If worse comes to worse, I have backup." A coquettish smile lit up her face.

"Do you think that it's right to drag Donald into this?"

Jenny raised her eyebrows and smirked. "Do you think I would be able to keep him out of it?"

"Probably not," Hetty admitted, unable to hold in her laughter.

Jennifer laughed, but hearing Hetty voice the same worries that her heart had agonized over from the moment the SECNAV told her she was on the shortlist to replace Marrow made the burden a little heavier. "I don't want to hurt him," she whispered, slipping her glasses down again for the illusion of privacy.

"You never did get over him, did you?" It wasn't a question, and pain pierced Hetty's own heart, grieving for another love lost of the sake of the greater good.

"One doesn't 'get over' Jethro, Auntie. Just ask his three ex-wives. Even Diane would crawl back to him if he so much as crooked his finger at her. Of course, then I'd have to kill her," she added, unconsciously gripping the edge of the table. "I made a choice, and I live with it. Looking back now, I'm glad that I didn't end up ex-wife number three, although I'm certain Jethro lumps me in with the rest of his harem. Still, when I said yes to this job, I swore I would never use our past against him. God willing, I'll be able to keep that promise. It's just my rotten luck that he'll always be the great love of my life, but I haven't given up hope of finding an ordinary love to settle for."

"I hope you're able to find what I could not, Jenny," Hetty sighed.

"So do I. Any other concerns or pearls of wisdom to impart?" she asked with a more genuine smile.

"How about some old-fashioned gossip?" Hetty asked with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. Underneath the exterior of mirth, her heart rate sped up, and she took another long sip of her drink. The Vodka felt warm in her throat and helped calm her nerves. Confessions had always proved difficult for her, and she couldn't predict how her revelations would alter her relationship with Jenny. "Tell me, have you heard from that young man you worked with in Serbia lately?"

"Which time?"

"1996."

Jennifer pushed up her sunglasses again, and her entire face lit up with happiness. "Oh, Bright Eyes! Yes, I get a letter from G. nearly every month. He's left the CIA, but all he'd say about it was that he got married for an OP, and by the time it was over, he'd lost the girl and his dog. He's in DC working for the FBI now, but he sounds miserable."

Hetty nodded, glad to have her information confirmed. Now, she hoped Jenny would help her bring the most beloved of all her 'children' to a permanent home in NCIS. "Why don't you offer him a job?"

"I really don't think that would solve the problem, Auntie. Part of the reason he's so unhappy at the FBI is that he's stuck doing work he hates. Investigating ordinary murders would just put him in the same place he's in now. He just can't bear to be the same person for too long. Besides, Jethro and I are sure to set off some fireworks, and putting Bright Eyes in the same building with him will have roughly the same results as Chernobyl," she sighed.

Hetty frowned. "You've always told me they are very close. What happened to change that?" This news disturbed her more than the disaster of Callen's ill-fated romance with Tracy Rosetti in Uzbekistan. A failed attempt at love might cause great pain, but a falling out with family would be far more damaging to him.

"Well, they are close—" before she could continue, Emily returned with their feast.

"I hate to break up a good chat, but I've made it back with one minute and forty-five seconds to spare. That's a new personal best for me!" She placed a large platter of the lobster hash in the center of the table before serving Hetty her salmon, and Jenny her steak. "If you can't hear it moo, Ms. Shepard, just snap and I'll take it right back," she winked. Then she served each lady her juice, and laid two smaller plates on the table. "My advice for dealing with brunch is this, resist all the temptation to plow through it! Eat small portions, and before you know it, all the plates will be picked clean. Now, I'll get lost and let you both enjoy the rest of your meal. If you need re-fills or want the check, just wave."

"Thank you, dearie," Hetty said, patting her hand affectionately. "Everything is perfect."

"Thank you Emily," Jennifer repeated after swallowing her first bite of steak. "This is the second best steak I've ever had."

"Oh," the young girl asked raising an eyebrow. "What makes it come up short?"

"My ex cooked our steaks doused with beer in fireplaces. It shouldn't work, but it does."

Emily's mouth dropped open. "You let him go!" she gasped.

A bittersweet smile graced the redhead's lips. "Complicated situation, Emily."

"With men, it always is," Emily sulked. "Enjoy, ladies."

Both women focused on their meals, enjoying the luxury of the food and their surroundings. Hetty's worries for Callen disrupted the peace of the afternoon, and Jenny's memories of her lost love thrust her into intense introspection. Only when they clinked spoons serving themselves lobster hash did the conversation resume. "You were asking about Bright Eyes and Gibbs, so I'll try to explain. For the record, I only know G's side of the issue, so I don't consider myself fully informed, but knowing Jethro like I do, I'm willing to tell you what I think his side would be. Just don't take this as solid Intel."

"I'm listening with an open mind, my dear."

"Jethro is the father my Bright Eyes wishes he had, and Jethro adores him, but there is one problem."

Hetty ran her finger over the rim of her juice glass. "What's the problem?"

"They are two of the biggest control freaks I have ever encountered!" she exclaimed, "Speaking as a person who likes control myself, that's saying something. They both deal with people on their own terms and only their own terms. When those terms clash, I prefer to be miles away if possible. They absolutely cannot work in close proximity for more than a month. Eventually, Jethro will be a jackass and start trying to mold G. into what he wants him to be. When he does that, my Bright Eyes' deeply entrenched, but usually controlled, disdain for being handled rears its ugly head. If Jethro doesn't back down, holes appear in the walls. That said, there is nothing, and I mean nothing, that they would not do for each other if the other called. To Jethro, G. is the boy he couldn't save, and it galls him. Unfortunately, G. didn't take my ending things with Jethro well."

"He felt like a part of a family, and your relationship was the glue," Hetty sighed. "Why hasn't your relationship with Mr. Callen been negatively affected?"

"It was, for a while," Jenny admitted, sadness filling her voice. He actually found me in the middle of some God-forsaken corner of London and gave me a dressing down that would make a five star Admiral, blush! He scared me," she added, with a note of shame. "Anyway, I told him my side of it, and he left. A few months later, I received a letter from Ducky telling me that G. had paid a visit to Jethro, that and he'd had to stop things from escalating into a brawl. He called G. an 'excellent defender of virtue.' From what I've put together, G. decided that Jethro should have tried to get me back. I've turned into an off-limits topic between them. That's the whole story, and putting them together will not make either of them any happier."

"So don't put them together, Jenny. Put him somewhere he can thrive," Hetty insisted before taking her last bite of hash.

"Okay, Auntie, what is going on? Ever since Serbia, every time we get together, you ask me about G, and now you're insisting I recruit him. You're hiding something, and you're going to tell me what it is," Jennifer demanded, leaning into Hetty's space.

"It's a long story, Jenny," Hetty whispered, pinching the bridge of her nose underneath her glasses.

"Then we need more alcohol," Jenny stated, waving for Emily.

Thirty minutes later, Jennifer experienced true anger with her Godmother for the first time in her life. "Why didn't you just adopt him?" she hissed, not even bothering to use her glasses to hide the sorrow in her eyes.

"No judge in this country would have given him to me in the 70's, Jenny," Hetty replied mechanically, as if giving a name rank and serial number.

"You could have found him a home, a real home!" the younger woman growled. "Don't tell me you couldn't have changed his name and buried it, we both know better," she spat in disgust.

"Jenny, believe me when I tell you that it wouldn't make a difference. The Comescus will hunt for him until he's lying dead at their feet. Do you think that they found his mother because she went back to Romania and announced she was George Callen's daughter? Moving him through the system kept him safer than any other option I had. I did what I thought was right with the information I had at the time. I can't go back and change it. All I can do is ask you to help him find a home now, with NCIS—" she paused and took a deep breath. When she looked into her Goddaughter's eyes, her own filled with tears over thirty years in the making. "Jenny, I'm begging you, lead him home to me."

"All right," she said, taking the older woman's hands in her own. "I can't believe I'm saying this to you of all people, but you're going to have to do exactlyas I say. You have no clue just how ornery he can be in person."