A/N: LBSF Christmas Tag, upon this line based: "Their relationship had hit the rocks for a while and he'd backed off instead of trying to find out what the problem was. But she'd needed him at Christmas and things had been better ever since." -LB/SF; Chapter 12
I just can't let go of this universe. :D
"Where are you Christmas, why can't I find you?...My world is changing; I'm rearranging-does that mean Christmas changes too?" -Faith Hill, Where Are You Christmas
It was Christmas—well, Christmas Eve.
There was snow, and there was a decorated tree and there were Christmas lights and stockings and for a five-year-old, Christmas Eve was as good as Christmas, if not better.
This was probably the loudest Christmas Leroy Jethro Gibbs could remember having. As an only child in a small town, his childhood Christmases had never been rowdy affairs, and when it was just he and Shannon, they'd spent them alone, like all sappy newlyweds. After Kelly, they were pleasant, and then with Kelly, after Shannon's death, they had been subdued. Levi had brightened things up.
But this year, things were different.
Levi was old enough to be not only aglow with Christmas spirit, but completely and hyperactively obsessed with it. It wasn't just Kelly, Levi, and himself, either—Kelly had Timothy McGee this year, and somehow (he still had no idea how) he had been convinced to invite Jackson Gibbs to DC for Christmas.
And so Christmas was a five person affair, with the added chaos of a half-puppy German Shepard running wild.
Only one person was absent, and she was the reason for his brooding, anti-social and cold silence.
He was predisposed to irritation since Jackson was here anyhow, and it wasn't making it any better that his relationship with the only woman he'd cared to have a relationship with in years was, if not on the rocks, careening towards them.
Things had been rough with Jenny lately.
He could pinpoint the start of the "rough patch" to about the time of Levi's car accident, but things hadn't gotten prickly until a few weeks later.
He was hard-pressed to even define the problem; what it seemed to be was a lot of fighting and below-the-belt arguments, mixed with an overwhelming amount of pretending everything was perfectly fine.
Except for the minor, frustrating fact that lack of sex for about a month was forcing him to admit everything was not fine.
And here he was, on Christmas Eve, eyeing the boat critically as he repaired a nick Levi and the dog had recently plagued it with, listening to the laughter and Christmas music and rumble of voices upstairs.
Kelly and Levi were making the traditional cookies for Santa. Tim was joining in, if awkwardly, and Jackson was jovially enjoying everything.
Jethro was sulking stoically, and he'd already been snapped at by Kelly about it and nagged by his father, so to the basement he had retreated, and in the basement he planned to stay.
He moved away from the boat and picked up his half-drank mason jar of bourbon from the workbench, leaning back in the dim light to stare blankly at his handiwork. He had spent a lot of time in the past pretending to not care about holidays or birthdays; pretending to be a hard ass.
He was sick of it now. Levi had started to remind him of how good Christmas was. Jenny had reminded him of how good everything was; of how much better everything looked and smelled and tasted—so yeah, he was pissed things weren't working, and he was upset she wasn't here.
And he hadn't even bothered to invite her, because his last gesture of peace in wartime—a cup of coffee brought to her at work two days ago—had ended in one of their harshest arguments yet, and even though he had managed to return it to civility before she stormed away, he knew she was hurt and she damn well knew he was fed up with her.
But he didn't want to be.
He knew Levi's accident had scared her. He knew it had reminded her that lives could be snatched so easily, and it set her thinking about Peter and Jim, and it drew her back into herself and reminded her why she had shut people out and been so hard since then.
Jethro drank.
He heard a crash and a shout of laughter from upstairs. There was skittering across the floor; the dog scrambling to get away from the noise. It was cold in the basement. He'd lit a fire upstairs before storming down here to get away from the stifling happiness. He contemplated going back up there.
He wanted Jenny. He wondered if she was at work. He was concerned she was at home drinking, or worse.
He considered calling her. But he was too stubborn. His pride was too much. She didn't want him around; fine.
Pterodactyl dashed down the stairs, seeking quiet and peace. His tail wagged as he sidled up to Jethro, licking his master's hand and rubbing his furry body against Jethro's jeans. Jethro rubbed his head, smirking mirthlessly.
The German Shepard looked up at him with big, liquid brown eyes and whined, snuggling closer. His tail thumped against the workbench. Jethro took a drink and looked at the boat, rubbing Pterodactyl's head soothingly.
A baking timer went off upstairs, and Jackson said something. Tim answered. It was just a rumble of voices, and none of them were the voice Jethro wanted to hear—even if Kelly's was always nice, and Levi's too.
He missed Jenny. He wanted her, attitude or no. Yet they worked because they understood each others' natures; they didn't push, they didn't pry, and they didn't embark on sappy, heart-healing talks or whatever—she had made it clear she wanted him at arm's length, if that close, and he'd be damned if he'd go crawling after her if she wanted to languish in sorrow alone.
Six years since the first Christmas without them, and it had never gotten any better. It still hurt like nothing else had the capability to hurt. It still felt empty and hollow and it made her angry and it devastated her all at once.
The first year, she'd spent the night in Arlington, in the cold cemetery, watching snow fall, and staring at their headstones.
Each year since, she'd stumbled through the holiday season, finding some odd, lonely way to spend Christmas that suppressed the pain just a little—some way that usually involved alcohol, if not work.
She welcomed un-crack-able cases around Christmas; it mean an excuse to work, to burn both ends of the fuse and ignore the whole damn holiday gooeyness, but if there was no reason to work, she refused to mope around NCIS—she much preferred to pretend she was fine, that she had people to go to and things to do.
But each year up until this one, she hadn't. And this year…this year was different, and for some reason, it was the same. Hers was the only brownstone in her swanky Georgetown neighborhood devoid of Christmas cheer and spirit; there wasn't even a tree inside, or lights, or a wreath.
It was just her, on Christmas Eve, sitting in her dimly lit study. She reclined on the rug in front to the fireplace, but she'd lit no fire. There was a tumbler of bourbon next to her thigh, poured from a bottle a certain silver-haired ex-marine had given her, but she hadn't touched it.
She just didn't feel like drinking.
She leaned back on her hands and stared at the empty, cold fireplace, listening to the silence, and trying so hard to clearly remember the sound of Peter's shrieking, Christmas morning laughter.
It occurred to her she had the opportunity to hear a child's laughter on Christmas, but she'd all but chased Jethro from NCIS with teeth bared and claws sharpened two days ago, and she was too much of a proud bitch to admit she wanted to spend this holiday with him and his family.
She wasn't even sure if she wanted to. Since Levi had been hurt in that car accident, she kept seeing Peter when she looked at him. And then she saw Jim when she looked at Jethro, and then she remembered that they were dead—and there was no promise in life that Jethro wouldn't die, or Levi.
And she couldn't bear it. She couldn't bear the thought.
She wasn't pushing Jethro away to test him or to see if he'd chase after her; she knew he wasn't 'that guy' and she knew he'd never push her if he thought she wanted him out of her sight; she was just afraid of him. Yeah; that was a good way to put it. She was afraid of him and the way he made her feel, the way he made her look at life.
The redhead wondered how he was spending his Christmas Eve. She wondered if he was upset.
She thought about the way she'd treated him lately.
She knew it was bad; she felt guilty—Kelly was a woman who never involved herself in their relationship, or even allowed herself to comment, but she had given Jenny a hell of angry comment a few days ago, and it had been like a slap in the face.
Kelly knew her father; she lived with him. Maybe she saw some sort of emotion Jenny wasn't allowed to see. Sometimes, she wished Jethro would fight a little harder to make her talk. It might make her angry, but it would help her have faith that he was here for good. She didn't want to realize one day that there was a discrepancy in their investment in each other.
The house was so quiet. It was so cold.
Jenny picked up the tumbler of bourbon. She thought of being woken up by her son on Christmas morning. She smiled a little, sadly, and took a drink. Her throat burned, and then her eyes started to burn. She pressed her lips together, and turned her head towards the bookshelf. She stared at the picture of Jim and Peter; each wore a Santa hat—Jim pulled Peter on a sleigh.
She lifted her tumbler to her lips again and paused, tilting her head alertly.
She heard a car door slam, the sound of a car locking, and then the determined sound of someone breaking in. Her gun was still strapped to her ankle from work today, but she didn't move towards it. She glared down the hallway.
Her heart beat just a little bit faster. She didn't have it in her to mock anyone right now, and if it were Jethro walking in, she might just fall to pieces—
-alas, no threat of that.
The sense of disappointment that washed over her Anthony DiNozzo stomped into her study's doorway instead of her estranged boyfriend overwhelmed her. It told her this was all wrong. If she wanted him that badly…
Impassively, she stared at the bundled up agent and he gave her a rude glare, his hair covered in snow, nose all red. She waited patiently for him to speak, and after a moment of quiet, lifted an eyebrow in a patronizing way.
"If you are here to bestow upon me a gift, the proper way to enter is through the chimney," she said sweetly, nodding briefly at her dead fireplace.
"I was hoping you wouldn't be home," he returned shortly. He pulled his hands from his coat pockets and rubbed them together, blowing on each other.
"Interesting," Jenny remarked. "Were you planning on stealing something? Panties?"
He didn't even crack a smile. She was unaccustomed to this sort of behavior from Tony.
"You are an idiot," he growled suddenly. She couldn't help it; she knew there was a taken aback look on her face—if only briefly, before she composed it into a hard mask. He nodded, as if for emphasis.
"I beg to differ," she remarked icily.
He shook his head.
"No. You're an idiot," he said again, pointedly. "You should be with him."
Jenny set her tumbler down next to her thigh and straightened up, her eyes flashing darkly. She refrained from answering, and gave her subordinate a cold, calculating look.
"Please accept my invitation to get out of my house," she said dangerously.
"I'm not leavin' until you hear me out," he snapped seriously. It was like the picked on little kid finally getting up the courage to stand up to the bully. She looked up at him, careful not to tilt her head to much, searching his green eyes.
"This oughta be good," she mocked mercilessly, pursing her lips a little cruelly.
"Have you lost your mind, Jenny?" he demanded. He sounded so furious. It was weird. "Dammit, I've worked with you for six years, I know you spend every Christmas alone, crying or drunk or both—and this year, you didn't have to. You don't have to. But you are, because you're too much of a coward to tell him you want him, and you're a drama Queen—I drove over her to make sure your car wasn't here, and it pisses me off that you turned out to be home," he paused, throwing his hands up. He shook his head in frustration. He glared at her.
She held his hard gaze for a moment, taking it in. She didn't say a word.
She parted her lips.
"Your mother ever teach you to mind your own business?" she asked stonily.
"No; that's why I grew up to be a fed," he growled back obnoxiously.
She stood gracefully, sweeping her tumbler with her. She kept her eyes on him as she turned slightly towards the fireplace. She rested the glass on top and folded her arms, shoulders straight, back straight.
There were seconds of charged silence. She lifted her head up sharply, her green eyes cool.
"And why are you so chivalrously concerned how I spend my Christmas?"
"Because I've got your back, Red!" Tony answered in irritation. "Hell, you're my friend. Do you not get it? He's the best thing that's ever happened to you. Why are you throwing it away—and don't think you aren't. Right now it's just a fight or something petty, but in a few weeks you might wonder what the hell happened to the whole thing—it doesn't make any sense, doing this to yourself."
She glared at him.
It all rang so sharply true in her ears, heart, and head. And oh, it pissed her off that Tony was here telling her this. This was something she knew she should never have to be told. She should know.
He's the best thing that's ever happened to you.
After a moment, she blinked. It was like a signal to put down the loaded guns. She saw Tony's shoulders loosen a little; relax.
"I hesitate to take advice from a man who appears to spend his Christmas Eve spying on old flames," she remarked a little bitterly.
He looked exasperated.
"I'm on my way to Abby's party," he said shortly, shrugging. "Thought I'd check on you. Knock some damn sense into you," he flared up again. "I already told you you're an idiot, right?"
She smirked callously.
"Abundantly."
He smiled a little, furrowing his brows importantly. He softened up and stepped forward, crouching to pick up the newly opened bottle of bourbon. He set it next to her barely touched tumbler and pointed at it.
"You're drinking that because it reminds you of him," he said matter-of-factly. "It's subconscious."
She looked at him silently.
"You talking about Jethro or Jim?" she asked softly.
He shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head.
"Gibbs," he said slowly. He studied her for a minute. "If you don't want to be around him, fine. Come to Abby's party," he said, but as he was looking at her, and she stared back, he smiled a little. Teasingly.
She reached up and rubbed her temple briefly, a wrinkle appearing on the bridge of her nose. It was one of contemplation, and of annoyance.
"Call him, Jenny," he coaxed.
She looked at the bourbon. She stared at it hard. Slowly, she shook her head. She bit the inside of her lip.
Tony made an angry noise in his throat.
"You stubborn…" he trailed off. He swore under his breath. "You'll lose him. Women…women don't get it. Men get freaked out too, when they—argh," Tony stopped, like he couldn't even say what he wanted to. "You're an idiot," he said again.
"Are you finished?" she asked in a low voice.
"I don't know, let me think," he answered sarcastically, bristling.
She gave him the sharpest, most challenging glare.
"Yeah," he breathed harshly. "I guess it isn't worth it," he snapped.
Jenny turned. She rested her elbow on the mantle of the fireplace, and then she rested her forehead on her fingertips lightly.
"Now is that moment in the scene when you storm out in defeat," she said balefully, looking at the glass of bourbon.
"I'm not the one who's losing something," he said manifestly.
He turned on his heel, yanking his keys from his pocket. She heard his angry footsteps. He was probably mad at himself for being unable to help. She closed her eyes lightly and tilted her head downwards, swallowing hard.
"Tony," she called gruffly. She looked over in the dim light. He didn't turn around. He just paused in the study doorway, waiting stiffly.
"I am not as stupid as you think," she said very quietly. It was almost a warning, and a little bit of a thank-you.
He shrugged.
"Then I better not see your car here when I drive home tonight," he said simply, and stormed out. She heard her front door slam, and she covered her eyes with her hand again.
She stood alone in her study, leaning on the mantle, next to the tumbler of bourbon. It was quiet again, but Tony's words were ringing around the room. You are an idiot. You'll lose him. Jethro had lost a spouse, too. It could be he didn't push because he reciprocated her feelings when it came to the fear of losing someone.
Anger and regret welled up inside her, and sorrow, and desire—not the kind associated with lust, but the desire to curl up to a warm, caring body on Christmas. She lashed out and threw the tumbler of bourbon across the room, listening to it shatter against something.
She took a shaky breath, and held back a sob. Then she looked down the hall where Tony had disappeared, and she slowly pushed away from the mantle. She avoided the broken glass as she left the study and opened the hall closet, pulling out her leather coat.
She looked at the clock.
And she didn't lock up before she left.
He relented, and he was back upstairs. Though his location had changed, his brooding had not and he had yet to say anything to anyone beyond a non-committal grunt. Kelly had drawn attention to his reappearance by cheerily announcing that the Grinch had decided to grace them with his presence.
Insert glare.
The Christmas music was louder upstairs, and Jethro was unsure why it was necessary to have both Christmas music and Christmas cartoons playing, but he assumed it was something Levi had demanded.
The five-year-old was bouncing off the walls, stealing icing from his mother, teasing the dog with bits of broken cookie, singing off-key and attacking Tim's legs. He wore a Santa hat and a red-and-green checkered button up shirt. He kept trying to pin reindeer ears on Pterodactyl.
Jethro took his cue from Kelly and channeled the Grinch. He sat on the couch staring blankly at the television, doing the only manly thing open to him at the moment. He and Jackson both watched the creepy Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer movie, beers in hand, not speaking to each other.
Pterodactyl came bounding into the room, covered in flour. He barked excitedly, and Levi ran through, chasing him with the reindeer ears again. Jackson grinned, amused by the antics. Jethro watched, refusing to let on that he was amused.
That poor dog.
Kelly, perkily returning from retrieving something in her room, took one look at her father and her grandfather and rolled her eyes good-naturedly. She hit Jethro on the shoulder with the towel in her hand.
"You two are ridiculous," she remarked brightly.
"Levi, leave the poor dog alone," Jethro growled by way of reply. He narrowed his eyes at Levi as the kid attempted to jump on Pterodactyl's back and jam the ears on the puppy. Levi tumbled to the floor and giggled.
Pterodactyl darted over to Jethro, wagging his tail. He got flour all over Jethro's jeans.
"C'mon, Levi, we're icing snowmen next," Kelly said, gesturing towards the kitchen. Levi hopped up and darted into the kitchen. Jethro heard the familiar sound of Tim grunting as Levi attacked his legs.
"How come Gunny isn't helping this year?" Levi asked loudly.
"He's afraid of Tim," Kelly answered.
"Liar," Levi shouted.
"What did you just call me?" she asked him, outraged.
"He is not," Levi said seriously. The little boy refused to believe that Gunny the Superman was afraid of nice friendly Tim.
Kelly said something under her breath that Jethro couldn't make-up, but Levi made a sad noise, and Jethro turned his head slightly and glared in the direction of the kitchen anyway. He turned his head back to the clay animation movie and took a drink of beer.
"We could at least have small talk, Leroy," remarked Jackson, raising his eyebrows.
Jethro grunted. His father calling him Leroy reminded him that Jenny sometimes called him that.
"You're more anti-social than usual," Jackson said loudly.
"Thanks for your opinion," Jethro said, giving Jackson a glare.
The elderly man shrugged.
"You tell him, Grandaddy," Kelly yelled from the kitchen.
Jethro scowled. He muttered under his breath. The basement was looking friendly again. There was silence between the two former servicemen. Then Jackson pointed, with the hand his beer was in, to the television screen.
"You used to love this movie," he announced.
Kelly giggled.
Jethro raised his eyes to the ceiling. There were reasons it Christmas between himself and Jackson consisted of Kelly sending a Christmas card.
"TIM! Your buttons are crooked!"
"What? They are not," Tim answered Levi's accusation sheepishly.
"Yeah HUH they ARE!" Levi insisted. There was a clatter. "Lemme show you, 'cause if they look weird Santa won't eat them."
A few moments later, Kelly poked her head into the living room and lifted a disparaging eyebrow at Jethro.
"I assume you told him that crap," she said.
Jethro looked at her and blinked slowly. Then, he grinned and shrugged his shoulders non-chalantly. Kelly glared and rolled her eyes. She disappeared, and then after a moment, she reappeared, leaving Tim and her little one in the kitchen to ice. She stood for a moment, head cocked, watching the decade-old Christmas movie.
An obnoxious, breathy version of 'Santa Baby' came over the speakers. Jethro cringed.
"Granpa Jack, I maked you a snowman!" called Levi.
"You did not," Kelly shouted. "You made him a snowman."
"Don't stick your tongue out at your mother," came Tim's voice a few moments later.
"Boooooo, tattletale, Tim!" growled Levi. "Granpa JACK," the kid shouted again, impatiently. He stomped his feet. "Come see your snowman!"
"Alright, you little prince, I'm comin'," he said, getting up from the couch and traipsing towards the kitchen. Kelly smiled at her grandfather apologetically and as he left, crouched down next to the couch and Jethro to rub Pterodactyl.
She puckered her lips, and kissed the dog's floury snout before she rested an arm on the couch next to him and looked up at her father, arching an eyebrow.
"Your Christmas is looking pretty blue, Dad," she said quietly.
He looked at her narrowly.
"Cute, Kelly," he growled. She smiled and blew air out through her lips, turning and listening to the sounds in the kitchen before looking back at him. She compressed her lips and tilted her head.
"Daddy, I don't know what's going on with you two," she began, hesitating only briefly, "but it's making you miserable. Her, too."
He didn't say anything.
"You know you haven't looked this morose on Christmas since I was eight and Mom made us spend it with Gramma," she teased. She realized she wasn't exactly getting a smile or a rise out of him, and let her hand slip off the dog, standing up and folding her arms.
"Daddy, call her," Kelly said softly.
"Kelly," he said sharply, looking at her with warning in his tone. She bit her lip. "She's made herself clear. Stay out of it," he said coolly.
"I'm worried about her," Kelly said, unfazed by his harsh tone.
"She can take care of herself."
Kelly glared at him, not saying anything for a moment.
"I know you miss her," she said finally, her voice low. She was clearly doing her best to keep Tim and Jackson out of it. Jethro made a face, and turned his attention back to the screen. He didn't want her to get emotional on him. Or psychoanalyze him.
"Jesus, Daddy," she swore after a brief moment of watching him. "You know, there was a happy ending at the end of the Grinch, but if you keep it up, she won't want to touch you with a ten foot pole," she said a little bitterly.
She moved away, leaning in to watch her son play with Tim, and play with Jackson, and enjoy the Christmas cookie baking tradition. Jethro scowled at the little joke she'd made. He leaned forward, looking down the longneck bottle in his hands and reaching up to rub his forehead.
If he kept it up? Kept what up? He had done nothing to Jenny.
He set his beer down and ran a hand over his mouth, absently rubbing Pterodactyl's head again.
Ah, maybe he'd done something. He hadn't been as good as he could to her, he figured. He just wasn't that wordy type. Hell, but maybe she needed to know that it was okay if she wanted to invest everything in him, because he would return it tenfold.
He got up and marched out of the living room and down the hall to his bedroom. It was quieter back here, and he cracked the door, snatching his cell phone off the dresser. Speed dial 2 would reach her cell; 3 her home. She came after Kelly and only Kelly. That in itself should tell him all he needed to know.
He hit 3, and waited.
She didn't answer her home line, and so he moved to the cell. She could be in the bath; then she'd have her cell phone. She could be at work. Or she could be passed out drunk on the floor, but he preferred not to think that.
He swallowed hard as he dialed the cell phone. If she didn't pick up—
-she didn't, and he pulled his own back and stared at it. He made his decision. If she wasn't answering, something was up; he was going over there. He should have made this decision hours ago.
He turned on his heel and veritably stormed down the hall. It smelled like someone had forgotten about the current batch of cookies in the oven; they were burning. Jethro yanked his coat from the hooks in the hall and shoved it on, fumbling for his keys with one hand while he dialed Jenny's cell with the other. He waited, trying to make sure before he sped off in the night to 'fetch' her.
She failed to answer.
Pterodactyl made a low growling, whining noise, and came trotting up to him, tail wagging. His ears perked and he looked at the door.
"Back," growled Jethro, opening the door with his cell phone in his hand. He snapped it shut, and then looked up, freezing in his tracks.
There she stood.
The redhead who was causing him so much grief lately. She stood on the porch, wrapped tightly in a slimming leather coat, a wool hat covering her long, snow-flecked hair. She arched an eyebrow at him sharply.
He slowly slipped his phone into his pocket.
"Words cannot describe what an embarrassing magnitude of a cliché this moment is," she remarked pertly.
He smirked slowly, bracing his leg to prevent the increasingly excited Pterodactyl from escaping the house. He opened the door a little wider, wordlessly inviting her in. God, she was a sight for sore eyes.
"Where's your phone?" he growled, shutting the door quietly.
"Glove compartment," she answered smartly. She reached up and pulled her hat off, glancing up at him through thick eyelashes. She pursed her lips a little mockingly.
"My, you were dashing out into the snowy Christmas Eve after me," she simpered dramatically. She rolled her eyes. "Cowboy," she said under her breath.
She reached down, turning her face away, and gave Pterodactyl a little love. As of yet, only he was aware of her presence in the house. He stood and watched her, and when she straightened up, he lifted his brows as if to say 'well?'.
She stepped forward and gave a quiet, annoyed sigh. She reached out and touched his arms, her grip tight, and then she slipped her hands up and hugged him, loose but tight, resting her cold cheek against his chest. He returned the hug after a moment, glad of her warmth.
"This mean you don't want me to leave you the fuck alone?" he asked guardedly, repeating the words she'd said to him at NCIS just a few days ago. She pressed her forehead against him, and then she leaned back, her hands on his arms.
Her voice was soft:
"I received a rather stern, rather brave talking to from a well-meaning ghost of Christmas DiNozzo," she said wryly.
Jethro grunted, unsure if he should be glad, or pissed at the rambunctious agent. Jenny seemed to notice the annoyance in his eyes and smirked, unbuttoning her coat.
"Are you going to offer to take this?" she asked pointedly.
He rolled his eyes, and reached to help her out of it.
"Lord, I cut you off for a while and your chivalry goes all to hell," she quipped.
Loudly, Pterodactyl barked at her, and leapt back, happy to see her. She smiled gently, looking down the hall. She stood close to Jethro, tossing her hair back. She listened to the music, and the television, and the voices, and Levi's laughter.
"Jenny?" he asked gently, using her softer nickname. She was usually 'Jen' to him; she was 'Jenny' when he knew she was vulnerable.
"You okay?"
She looked at him bluntly, her green eyes careful.
"No; I'm unstable," she said candidly. Uncharacteristically, she moved her hand from his arm around his waist; her body angled half towards him, half towards the hall. She pursed her lips.
He looked at her, waiting for her to say something. Her hair fell in curls, a little wet with snow, all around the form-fitting cashmere sweater she wore. She had Jim's dog tags tucked neatly into the shit, as always. She had high-heeled boots on. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed.
Damn, she was beautiful.
She bit her lip subtly, and looked up at him; her eyes were hard and somewhat frustrated.
"I need a drink," was what came out of her mouth, and he didn't know if she'd meant for it to or not, but he could tell she hadn't been drinking, and he kind of agreed with her assessment. He nodded curtly, keeping quiet.
Pterodactyl barked again, cocking his head. He twirled in the hall, chasing his tail.
Levi giggled.
"Mommy, Pterodactyl—"
"Whatcha doing, boy? What's got your excited?" Kelly appeared in the hall, reaching to ruffle the dog's fur, and glanced with a smile at Jethro. She did a double take and straightened, her mouth open a little, her eyes wide.
"Do mine eyes deceive me?" she asked, eyebrows going up. "The Grinch hath found his Cindy Lou Who!" she announced dramatically, raising her hands as if to praise God.
Jethro gave his daughter a very annoyed look. Jenny smirked and pulled her arm to herself, waltzing forward a little. Kelly reached out as she approached and hugged Jenny warmly, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
"Merry Christmas," she said. It was as if there had been no rift between them; Kelly simply dropped it. For the split second she had seemed to catch Jenny and Dad off guard, Jenny had looked a little lost and a lot upset and Kelly forgave her everything.
Determined, Kelly released Jenny's hand and tilted her head towards the kitchen. Jethro hovered behind her protectively, a glower on his face. In his fantasies about Jenny appearing for Christmas, he hadn't factored in the fact that she'd have to be introduced to Jackson.
"Leeee-viiii," sing-songed Kelly, stepping into the kitchen. She raised her eyebrows at the happy little kid. "Your favorite ninja is here," she announced.
Levi, who had been busy licking icing off two of his fingers as he watched Tim try to pry burnt cookies off of a tray, perked up and then dangerously leapt off the counter, darting across the linoleum floor at Jenny's feet.
"Jenny! Jenny!" He shouted excitedly, reaching up and hugging her tight around the waist. No matter how often Kelly ordered him to refer to her as 'Miss Jenny' it was always just 'Jenny'. Levi squeezed her tightly, and Jethro watched apprehensively.
"Oh my god, son, you're messy, let her go," whined Kelly, apparently annoyed with herself for forgetting he'd attack Jenny, floury sticky hands and all.
Jenny laughed. She grabbed Levi above the elbows and deftly swung him up into her arms, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and hugging him closer. Levi put his hands on his hips and gave her a stern look.
"Where have you been?" he demanded in a very good imitation of Kelly. "I was worrying!"
The strings of Jenny's heart had never been yanked harder.
"I had to fight off some demons, Levisauraus," she said seriously, her eyes sparkling a little. She felt Jethro's hand press into her lower back and thanked him silently. He knew what she meant. To the Kindergartener, it was just Jenny being silly, as usual.
"Ooooh," he said, eyes wide. "Ninja Jenny," he whispered. She wrinkled her nose and nodded, letting him slip down her knees to the floor. He winked at her.
"Gunny said you turned into a Werewolf!" he shouted.
Kelly gasped.
"Levi!"
"He did, though!"
Jethro pointed at his grandson with a stern look.
"You need a muzzle, punk," he growled, a little sheepishly. He might have said that under his breath the last time Levi asked where Jenny was. He hadn't meant for the little blabbermouth to hear.
Jenny fired a look at him over her shoulder.
"Nice to see ya, Boss," Tim piped up from behind Levi.
"Tim," Jenny greeted, with a cordial nod. She glanced at Kelly, then back at Tim, and made a sound in the back of her throat. "I shall pretend I know nothing of this flagrant violation of my team dating rules."
"What violation?" Kelly asked airily. Levi jumped up, drawing attention back to himself.
"Jenny, I made Granpa Jack get mistletoe when we went to store today, and then I hid it and I jumped up and put it on Mommy's head and I made Tim kiss her!" Levi rambled, giggling madly. He looked at his mother and shrieked, prancing towards Jethro. "I made them kiss, and Mommy turned red—HA!"
Levi gave a shout of laughter as Kelly threw up her hands, turning red and darting forward to scoop him up.
"You loud-mouth little nuisance!" she cried, hiding her face as she pretended to discipline him.
"That violation," Jenny said carefully, giving Tim a deadly look.
He swallowed, inching backwards.
"TIM! SAVE ME!" Levi squealed, as he was thrown onto the living room couch and subjected to a tickle attack by his Mom. Tim grinned widely, his eyes lighting up, and excused himself.
"Interesting development," Jenny remarked, brow lifted.
Jackson cleared his throat, left alone in the kitchen with Jethro and the woman he had yet to be introduced to. Common sense told him this was the lady friend Kelly had told him about, but he was too shrewd of a man to make assumptions, so he looked with expectant blue eyes at his son.
"And who might you be little missy?" he asked, a grin on his face. He came forward, setting his beer down on the counter next to the mess of cookie stuff. Jenny looked heartily amused at the small town way of talking.
"She's Dad's girlfriend, Grandaddy," Kelly said from the other room. "Introduce her to your father, Scrooge," Kelly ordered.
Jenny's eyebrows went up. She smirked; her eyes glinted a little wickedly. She looked up at Jethro and batted her eyelashes in a saccharine way, milking the moment.
"Dad," Jethro said gruffly. "Jenny Shepard," he said. He jerked his head at his father and met Jenny's eyes. "Jackson Gibbs," he said. "My father."
Jenny held her hand out and took the elder man's firmly.
"You are not a myth," she said smartly.
"And you are mighty pretty," Jackson returned, shaking her hand enthusiastically. "I'm happy to meet you, Miss Shepard."
"Jenny."
Jackson smiled at her, releasing her hand.
"Somethin' tells me Leroy doesn't deserve you," he said, with a quick glance at Jethro.
The ex-marine scowled and shook his head; Jenny arched an eyebrow and gave her lover a small smirk.
"You failed to mention your father was such an intelligent man, dear," she said to him mockingly. He pinched her gently in the ribs and she just allowed him a devilish little look and looked around the kitchen at the dwindling amount of baking materials, and the mess baking all night had left.
"It appears I missed the fun," she said.
"FROSTY!" screeched Levi suddenly. There was a crash.
"Levi Michael, stop right there," Kelly's voice had gone from friendly and carefree to motherly, firm, and deadly in all of two seconds. The three adults in the kitchen turned towards the noise.
Jenny winced.
"What did I tell you about jumping off the back of the couch, boy?"
"I don't remember."
"Don't give me that—you think Santa won't take all of your presents back to the North Pole?" she asked sharply.
"No," whined Levi in a panicked tone. "No, I'm sorry, Mommy. I wanted to tell Gunny and Jenny about Frosty—"
"You come over here and walk around to the kitchen like a civilized human being," Kelly ordered.
"Mothers always cramp little boys' style," remarked Jackson with a fond grin.
"I sense there are stories you can tell me about this one," Jenny said wickedly, jerking her thumb at Jethro.
Before Jackson could answer, Levi dragged his feet calmly into the kitchen, much less enthusiastic than before.
"Gunny, Frosty is almost on," he announced. He looked around at all of the adults and then moped up to Jenny, apparently deciding she was the least likely to yell at him. He looked up at her and smiled. "Santa comes after Frosty!" he announced.
"That is so cool," Jenny said seriously. She raised her eyebrow at Jethro. "Is that a new thing? Santa is scheduled to arrive after Frosty?"
"He gets to stay up to watch Frosty every year. He conks out halfway through, so," Jethro let the sentence hang and Jenny nodded in understanding. Jenny looked down at Levi.
"Better go ahead and set the cookies and milk out then, huh?" she asked, eyes wide. Levi smiled even wider and nodded. Kelly came into the kitchen looking a little annoyed and shot the kid a look. In the other room, Tim turned up the volume on the TV.
"Do you want eggnogg, Timmy?"
"Yeah," was his muffled answer.
"Anyone else?" Kelly asked, opening the fridge.
"You know I do," Jackson answered.
"And I know Dad doesn't," she said. "Jenny?"
Jenny shook her head.
"Can I have a soda, Mommy?"
"Over my dead body," Kelly said to Levi. "Milk or Apple Juice."
He pouted for a minute. Then his eyes lit up mischievously.
"If I have milk, can I have one cookie?"
Jenny snorted.
Kelly gave Levi a look. She smiled a little.
"I think I can deal with that," she relented, and began getting things ready. Levi smiled and turned to Jenny again, yanking her by hand to a cabinet.
"Can you get a plate, Jenny? For Santa's cookies?"
Jenny nodded silently and listened to Levi's directions, getting one out. She paused, and then she got another one. Jackson took his glass of eggnog and moseyed into the living room to find a seat, settling in for Frosty the Snowman.
Kelly went about preparing cups and drinks, and Jethro watched Jenny closely. She had had the nerve to come over, and she'd gotten snatched right into the Christmas business. He was concerned; it might bother her. It was all in her face now. But Levi didn't know any better.
She lifted the five-year-old onto the counter and he picked out the cookies he wanted to set out, arranging them on the plate. A smile spread over her face. He felt like he was watching a scene from an old movie.
Levi picked up the other plate.
"How come you got two?"
"You want to leave treats for Santa's reindeer, right?" Jenny asked seriously. Levi looked at her with wide eyes.
"You're supposed to?" he asked fearfully. "I forgot them, Jenny!"
She made a soothing noise and set the plat down.
"It isn't a rule, sweetheart," she said naturally. "Just nice, if you think about it."
"Let's do it!" he said with an eager nod.
Jenny nodded, smiling softly. She turned her head slightly, and without really looking at Jethro, asked:
"Jethro, do you have carrots, and celery?"
"Fridge, in the crisper," he grunted.
"Fetch them," Jenny ordered, with a prissy wave of her hand. He made a face, Levi giggled, and Jethro did as he was told, bringing them over to the plate. He handed them to Jenny.
"How did you know 'bout the reindeer treats?" Levi asked, furrowing his brow as he watched Jenny arrange the carrots and celery in a star-like shape. Jenny didn't answer his question right away, and as she critically eyed the raw vegetables design, she glanced at Levi briefly.
"I knew a little boy who used to worry Santa's reindeer wouldn't get enough food," she said slowly. Levi nodded.
"Tha's good thinkin'," he decided, tapping his own head. He slid down off the counter in a cumbersome way, knocking his feet against the cabinets and landing haphazardly. He reached up and took the plate of cookies. "Come on, Frosty's startin'!"
He scampered off carefully with the plate and Jenny smiled at him, swallowing as she slipped her palm under the plat of 'reindeer food'. Jethro moved a little closer. He rested his hand on the back of her neck and rubbed.
"Peter?"
She nodded quietly, moving a carrot. She shook her head minutely.
"He said weird things," she said, her brow wrinkling a little. "How man three-year-olds…" she paused. "He asked, 'Mama, reindeer hungry?'" she remembered, tilting her head back. "Ah," she bit her lip and lifted the plate, straightening up.
"Jen, we don't have to watch Frosty," Jethro said gruffly.
"I can watch anything but Rudolph," she responded firmly. She smiled bitterly at him, and looked towards the living room. "I could still use a drink," she said half-heartedly.
"Call me Jack Daniels," Jethro drawled, turning towards the basement. "Mason jar?"
"Would I have it any other way, you redneck?" she asked with a roll of her stunning eyes. He disappeared into the basement, and she stood alone in the kitchen for just a moment, thinking, collecting herself, before she found her way into the living room, and situated the reindeer food next to the cookies.
She was unsure how she felt about this. She had not expected such a wealth of people to be at Jethro's home; she expected Kelly and Levi—was prepared for Levi. She had mixed feelings about the little boy. It felt so good to see his excitement about Christmas; it was like healing while at the same time it was like a knife in her heart.
Levi was dancing about the living room, trying to decide where to sit. Jackson had settled into an armchair that he had probably been sitting in all night. Tim was on the floor, one leg drawn up, his arm draped over it. Kelly was handing him his cup, and then she sat down next to him.
"Pick a seat and stay in it, little monkey," Kelly said lazily to her son, as the opening credits for the classic Frosty the Snowman cartoon danced onto screen. Tim upped the volume two or three notches.
"Where's Gunny?" Levi asked. "What if he misses—"
"Levi. Chill." Kelly said tiredly. Jenny sensed that her ability to act happy and bright was wearing off; she was ready for her kid to fall asleep so she could just relax. Levi pouted somewhat and bounced around.
Jenny heard Jethro's footsteps on the stairs and waltzed into the living room, her customary mask in place. She chose a seat on the couch, smirking a little to herself. She and Jethro had shared some rather clandestine, naughty moments on this couch.
She leaned back, looking around her, and gave Jethro an intimate, thankful look when he handed her a mason jar of bourbon and then sat down next to her, leaving her hardly any room to move.
"Subtle move, Dad," Kelly said, rolling her eyes.
He glared at the back of her head and held his bourbon on his knee.
Levi, seeing everyone was gathered and ready to watch, skipped up to Jenny and promptly climbed into her lap without warning. Kelly turned around from her spot on the floor and looked at him.
"Levi, come sit with Mommy," she said gently, pointedly not looking at Jenny. Jethro glanced at his redhead, and watched as she relaxed back into the couch, shrugging.
"It's okay," she placated, rolling her eyes a little. "I will thank you to remember I'm not made of glass," she said a little shortly. Tim didn't say a word. Kelly sheepishly turned back around, and Jackson simply looked a little confused.
Levi, unawares and unconcerned, leaned back against Jenny's chest and munched on his cookie, eyes wide and alert on the screen.
Jethro slipped his arm comfortingly around Jenny's shoulders, shifting so his left side, bicep, and shoulder were pressing into her warmly. After a moment, Jenny let go of her mason jar and wrapped her arm around Levi's chest, snuggling with him.
Jethro watched her, instead of the movie, protective-making sure she was alright.
Kelly had sneakily turned the lights off about fifteen minutes into the movie, under the pretense of getting more eggnog. After about half an hour of rapt attention to the movie, Levi began to shift around uncomfortably.
His eyes drooped, and he crawled out of Jenny's lap, across Jethro's, and sleepily tumbled into Kelly's, mumbling something about 'Mommy' and 'Santa' and promptly sprawling against Kelly's chest, falling asleep with his mouth wide open. Kelly snickered triumphantly and hugged him, intently watching Frosty.
Jenny took a drink of bourbon, shifting her shoulder a little.
She reached over and rested her hand on his thigh, too high on his thigh for someone who had refused to sleep with him for the past four weeks. He jumped a little and looked over at her sharply, but it didn't take him long to realize she wasn't looking to cop a feel.
She met his eyes and then leaned against him, pressing her forehead into his shoulder. He reached down and laced his fingers into hers, stroking her knuckles. He rubbed her shoulder softly. Her lithe frame only shivered a little, and he didn't know if she was crying, but he knew she wasn't leaving the room because it would draw unwanted attention.
Jethro turned his head and pressed his lips to the side of her head, burying his nose in her hair. He kept quiet and he watched the movie draw to a close. Before it was over, and before the kids were dancing in their joy at seeing Frosty again, Jackson got up with a yawn and stretched, cleaning up cups.
Kelly smiled, and thanked him quietly over Levi's sleeping head.
Jackson turned the lights back on as the credits rolled, and Jethro barely moved. He reached up and ran his hand through Jenny's hair. Kelly stretched in a limited way, rubbing Levi's head gently. She yawned and looked at the clock, raising her brows at the late hour.
Jenny raised her head, shifting, and there were tears in her eyes. Jethro turned towards her and reached out, slinging his arm around her neck. He pulled her towards him, sitting there a little awkwardly, at the angle.
Kelly miraculously got to her feet, Levi in tow, and turned around, about to speak. She closed her mouth when she caught sight of Jenny. The redhead held Jethro's biceps, hiding her face in his arm. Kelly's face fell a little. Tim stood up, smiling tiredly.
"I'm going home, Kel," he announced, squeezing her shoulder. He glanced at Jenny and frowned, but didn't say anything, instead patting Levi's head lightly, to wake him not.
"I'll walk you out," Kelly whispered, nodding towards the door. Jethro heard Tim asked very softly if Jenny would be okay. Jackson fumbled around in the kitchen, and when Kelly and Tim had gone on down the hall, Jethro loosened his grip on Jenny. He looked at her, offering a small smile. She looked upset; she looked angry, and vulnerable.
Jenny leaned back against the couch, resting her head on her knuckles. She looked at him and raised her eyebrow, even if she wasn't quite her sarcastic self. Jackson wandered into the room, drying his hands on a towel, and a moment later, Kelly walked back in, holding Levi's head against her shoulder.
"Isn't he heavy, Kelly?" Jackson asked in disbelief.
"You have no idea," she answered, pulling a face. She smiled though, and kept her voice low. "Daddy, remember Mom carrying me to bed when I was little? Every Christmas? She never would let you do it, even when I was like sixty pounds," Kelly shook her head fondly.
"I remember," Jethro muttered gruffly. Kelly smiled nostalgically and turned to Jenny.
"You staying the night, Jenny?" she asked neutrally, walking over to give her grandfather a kiss on the cheek.
"Yes," Jethro said firmly. Jenny just smiled tiredly, her face half covered by her hand. She looked tired. Kelly nodded.
"Levi usually attacks to wake us up in the morning, I'll hold him back—he'll still probably scream the whole house awake at six a.m.," she warned considerately.
Jenny lifted her head a little.
"Kelly," she said calmly.
Kelly raised an eyebrow in question.
Jenny smirked.
"Don't ruin his fun," she said. "He can attack all he wants."
Kelly looked as if she wasn't sure about Jenny's words, but she smiled warmly all the same and moved over to give her Dad a quick kiss goodnight.
"Hang on," Jackson said, his brow furrowed. He got both Jethro and Kelly's attention. "You and the munchkin are already crammed in one room to let me have his," Jackson said, pointing at the sleepy Levi. "Where's she going to sleep?"
Jenny raised an eyebrow sky high and her green eyes lit up wickedly under her eyelashes. Jethro raised his eyes to the ceiling. Kelly stared at her grandfather like he'd grown a second head.
"What century do you think this is?" Kelly asked Jackson in disbelief. Jackson looked at her, affronted. "With him," Kelly cleared up, nodding at Jethro.
"I'm one of those fast girls," Jenny quipped. She stood, picking up her mason jar, and downed it in one go. Jackson looked a little embarrassed. Jethro rolled his eyes and got up.
"'Night Kel," he said. "Night, Dad," he added a little grumpily, off after Jenny. He heard her heels as she walked down to the basement, and the sound stopped abruptly. She had sat down to take her shoes off, no doubt.
He caught up with her. The lights were off in the basement. She was sitting on the stairs, sliding off those stiletto boots silently and setting them in between the rails like she always did. She looked at the boat, her hair falling over one shoulder seductively.
Jethro reached over and pulled that tempting hair back, pressing his lips to her neck. He breathed her in; he was so glad she was here. He knew he had missed her, but he didn't know how damn much until right now.
"I have been a royal bitch," she remarked coldly. Quietly. She moved her hand in between his legs, closing her eyes briefly as he kissed her neck.
"Yeah," she heard him agree in a low rumble, and she turned to him, narrowing her eyes in a sharp glare, impressed with his nerve. He looked at her, brows up, as if daring her to call him out on his words.
She parted her pretty lips. She looked a little uncertain.
He shrugged non-chalantly.
"I love you," he said gruffly. His voice was husky; low. "Jen."
She continued staring at him for a good five seconds. She leaned forward on her knees and started to cry, bowing her head so her hair hid her face again.
"I know," she said shakily. He pushed her hair back and kissed her temple again, letting her sit there and cry. He didn't even pull her close right away, preferring to let her deal with it for a minute.
She squeezed his leg tightly, holding it tight against hers. He was warm and strong, and sometimes she needed that. Tony had been right; she was an idiot. If all of this was due to how scared she was to lose him, then why had she shoved him so violently away since Levi's accident?
She had been blindsided by the amount of family and Christmas cheer present here tonight, but it hadn't been horrifying or traumatic. It had just been overwhelming; it had been nostalgic, and it had been relieving.
It was a wakeup call, telling her she was the one who had made Christmas miserable for so many years. Peter and Jim's deaths had not suddenly soured Christmas, her heartbreak had, her unwillingness to allow anyone to help her through it.
So thank St. Nick for Jethro and his thick skin, and the ass-kicking Tony had given her only hours ago.
"I miss them so much."
"I know, Jen."
She raised her head, clearing her nose. She compressed her lips and pushed her hair back, straightening. She looked over at him, and his face was so close to hers. His cobalt blue eyes were understanding and devoid of their hardness.
Jenny looked over at the boat he'd been building since before Shannon died, and she looked at it, breathing in slowly. She looked back at him. Then she looked up.
"Where's the mistletoe when the moment is right?" she asked, arching a brow.
"Talk about cliché, Jen," he grunted, scowling.
She bit her bottom lip and lifted her shoulder, looking down as she squeezed his leg again. She kept her eyes downcast.
"I need you, Jethro."
Somehow, it didn't sound weak or clingy or desperate when she said it. Honest.
"I'm right here," he answered simply.
She nodded slowly. She turned towards him a little and buried her head in his neck, leaning into him heavily. He smiled. He loved it. She was upset and a little crazy right now, maybe, but he loved her. He loved how she smelled and he liked that she wanted him.
He rested his chin on her head, looking at the boat, and then pulled his hand through her hair after a moment and started to pull her up.
"Bed, Jen," he coaxed. She pulled her hand from between his legs and this time, she did cop a feel. He closed his eyes and gave her a growl, warning her. She smirked a little, well aware there was no threshold of restraint at the moment, considering the lack of that recently.
The house was dark as he pulled her towards his bedroom, draping his arm around her shoulder possessively. He yanked her in there and shut the door; he didn't lock it. He went to a drawer and pulled out one of his shirts for her, and she stripped to lingerie and slipped it on, leaving it unbuttoned.
Merry Christmas to him.
He stripped down to his boxers even though it was freezing outside and when she crawled into bed next to him, tangling her long legs up in his and pressing her warm, half naked body against his bare skin, he smirked, finally taking a minute to enjoy Christmas.
She sighed, breathing him in deeply, and ran her smooth palm over his chest and ribs a little suggestively.
"I disagree with the assertion that I am Cindy Lou Who," she murmured suddenly, her comment full of much more of her usual 'self'.
He made a noise in the back of his throat, glancing at the clock. It would be Christmas in two hours.
"Recent events considered and taken into account, it is my personal belief I identify much more with the mean one—Mr. Grinch," she mused. He felt her smile wickedly. "You are much more Cindy Lou Who, Leroy."
"Cindy Lou Who?" growled Jethro, offended. Some prissy little girl whining about her stolen Christmas? "I don't think so."
"No?" Jenny asked sweetly. She rested her leg over his, adjusting her head on his shoulder. She could feel his heart beating under his skin, and it felt good. She smirked to herself, and made her hand still on his ribs. "Perhaps your heart is a few sizes too small, yet I maintain you are the Cindy Lou Who in the present metaphorical relationship."
He glared at the top of her head, and then grit his teeth. Damn Jenny and her metaphors.
"Why am I Cindy Lou Who?" he demanded in a quiet bark, patronizing her. He'd always liked The Grinch best as a kid. And he always sort of liked the Grinch. Wasn't too mean of a guy.
"You saved Christmas," simpered Jenny prissily. She laughed at the annoyed noise he made at her little sappy tease.
He rolled his eyes indulgently. She was laughing, and so many minutes ago she'd been crying, dealing with pain that he knew cut deep. He grumbled under his breath about clichés and stupid Christmas movies.
"There is a lot to be said for the morals in Christmas movies, Cowboy," Jenny said softly, curling closer to him, if possible. She yanked the covers around them, protecting herself from cold. He rolled towards her and draped his arm over her waist, kissing her hard.
She placed her palms against his chest, letting him trap her close to his body possessively. She closed her eyes and rested her head next to his on the pillow.
"Cindy Lou Who," he growled under his breath, and she smiled, her eyes still closed. She giggled, and he nipped playfully at her neck, keeping it borderline PG-13. For the first year since Peter and Jim died, she laughed on Christmas Eve.
And who would have thought, she'd laugh in bed with the Grinch who saved Christmas.
Quick Facts: I spent my Christmas Eve writing this, and watching "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" with my Daddy. I love 'How the Grince Stole Christmas'; Jim Carrey Verson, but 'A Christmas Story is my favorite Christmas movie (Shameless Plug: Check out 'Orchid Thief' for a mention of that). This is for Holly, because I love 'er, and she loves LBSF. Merry Christmas, Happy Boxing Day, and have a fabulous New Year!
-Alexandra