Her green eyes.

He knew those eyes. He had stared into them for the first time in this very building - and then again in Marseilles, Rome, Paris, Czech Republic and everywhere else that mission had taken them. He had stared into them so often that he now knew every emotion that crossed her face the moment her eyes conveyed it. He had stared into those eyes while they were laughing, smiling, crying, concerned, content, pained - and everything in between. But the last time he had looked into her eyes - he remembered clearly that they were troubled, and sad, and hesitant and confused, and he remembered it clearly, because he had pushed his thoughts away, thinking she would tell him what was bothering her when they got back to the States, together.

Problem was - they didn't come back together.

She had left. She had left him on the airplane, with a coat, a letter and his heart.

Now, they were face to face, staring at each other, taking in one another - everything that changed, and everything that stayed the same. She smiled, pausing for a moment to collect herself and said, in that alto, butterscotch voice he missed so much, "Hello, Jethro."

He blinked as the myriad of flashbacks hit him all at once, blurring into one picture - making passionate, passionate love with her everywhere around Europe; kissing her; touching her; loving her. He wanted to reach out, to hug her and hold her - but she was Director now. She needed respect, and he was more than willing to give it to her.

Her voice reached his ears again, interrupting his thoughts.

"Shall we skip the 'you haven't changed a bit' bull." she said, eyeing him curiously. He could tell she was trying to read him and understand what he was thinking.

"Why start lying to each other now, Jen?" he asked, stepping down the last few steps, intentionally coming closer to her.

A little smile graced her lips and he was suddenly hit with another memory, one where she smiled that very same, beautiful smile in Paris, when they first got there.

Their conversation stayed minimal, still under scutiny of Tom Morrow, and they played safe, until he gave her a knowing smile so reminiscient of Paris and said, "You were a good agent, Jen. Especially undercover."

She was caught of guard, he could tell. She took a moment to collect herself, smiling and swallowing, averting her gaze from his eyes to a spot behind him. He took a moment to just watch her, how her eyes seemed to be slightly lighter, how she looked a little tired and worn out. She looked down for a brief moment and he caught sight of the pins holding up her hair, wincing a bit - that had to hurt. In Paris, during missions where they had to be in formal clothing that required her to do her hair, she always made a fuss out of it, complaining that the pins were pinching her skull. He knew it probably hadn't changed. Jen was always a creature of habit.

"Jethro." she whispered, and his eyes focused on her face, memorising every inch of her features.

He smiled, a real, sincere Leroy Jethro Gibbs smile, and answered her, "Madame Director."

He watched as she rolled her eyes at him before getting serious again. He wondered, in the midst of everything, if he could ask her for a chance. Did she even want one?

She cleared her throat uncomfortably, and he snapped back to life, pretending he hadn't just looked her up and down like he wanted to see all of her again. His sharp blue eyes met her vivid green ones and she found herself looking deeply into them until Morrow stood suddenly and said to them, "Well, I guess I'll get going." He nodded to Gibbs, who returned it before he faced Jenny. "Good luck, Director. Especially with that one."

She smirked involuntarily, casting a sideways glance at her ex-lover before nodding to the older man.

"Thanks, Tom. Take care." she spoke softly, as if she was afraid someone was listening to them.

Tom Morrow disappeared out the door and into the elevator. Jenny turned back to Jethro, her eyes scrutinising him again.

She couldn't help but suddenly feel there was that same, haunting look in his eyes, the same one he'd had the last time she was there. Was it her? Or was it something else that made him look so broken?

"So... Jen, Ari..."

"Right," and without sparing another glance at him, she walked past him, talking fast "Jethro, you have no physical evidence linking Ari to the shootings. No wonder agencies her and abroad are having doubts."

"That bastard's already killed one of my people." His hard gaze bore into her eyes and she glared right back, reminding herself that she was the boss this time. "He's trying to kill more, and I'll tell you something else, Jen - no tight spinchter in a suit is getting in my way, and that includes you." he snapped, walking down the steps quickly.

"Agent Gibbs," she called, and he was suddenly aware that she wasn't right beside him. "On the job, it's either Director or Ma'am."

She kept her eyes steely, but she was worn and tired, and so drained of energy that when his eyes softened and bored playfully into hers she never really stood a chance. Hell, she never stood a chance when she was fully awake, either.

"Okay," he agreed, and Jenny felt herself almost giving out a sigh of relief before he added, "And what about off the job?"

Her mouth opened slightly, a retort stuck in her throat, suddenly aware of the people who were around. She swallowed, and composed herself - because she was going to lie, and he always knew when she was lying.

"There won't be any 'off the job', Agent Gibbs." she said calmly, forcing her to look into his eyes.

He blinked, seemingly realising what kind of situation he must'vee put her in, but he looked a bit sad, and more weary than usual - the corners of his eyes drooped, there seemed to be a permanent steel in his gaze and he looked down.

"Fair enough."

She looked at him, really looked at him - there wasn't a day in her life that she hadn't seen this man. She saw him every night, in her dreams, dreams that obviously never came true because in her own little world, they were together. And happy. Now, with him, she couldn't look at him without feeling the need to pore over every decision she'd made the past six years - even a decision she'd made just two days ago - to become Director - she started questioning when she saw him. In her dreams, they were smiling, laughing, kissing each other. In reality, they hadn't even had a proper conversation without provoking each other.

She knew, had a gut feeling, that maybe if her answer to his question had been different, maybe they'd be in a different place. Maybe they'd be smiling. Maybe they'd even be talking. Maybe they'd actually had the nerve to look at each other.

But she'd said what she'd said, and he's had his question answered, although it felt like the answer she gave was just... not the right one.

She ignored the voice at the back of her head telling her that she'd just blatantly ignored a second chance at being together.

Hey, readers! It's been a long time since I posted something new, so I decided to come up with this story. I'm thinking of making it a series of oneshots, so if you guys have an opinion on that, feel free to drop a review!

Until next time,

Natalia