Author's Note:
Rated K. This is my first fan fiction and as such, I decided to continue a scene from Season 5 Episode 13, "Dog Tags". Jenny and Gibbs in the elevator. I kept Jenny sick, but changed the illness, she is not dying in this story. However, this is an idea just couldn't get out of my head. So it had to be written. J Jibbs, some language and frustration, but that's all. Please read and review! Rated K, suitable for all.
Jenny Shepard steps onto the elevator to find Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs already there. He steps to the side to let her in, and as she presses her floor choice, the door shut and the honesty begins.
"Your investigation?" She asks, sounding so innocent and work oriented. Work is always on his mind during the day it seems. But here lately Gibbs has lost his focus, he's in and out of conservations, struggling to keep his mind on the task at hand at times.
She's lost weight and the bags beneath her eyes have not only gotten larger, but are darker as well. He wonders if the shift to Director of NCIS was the only thing that caused her to be so physically out of balance, and he doubted it.
"Movin along."
Gibbs turns, giving her the classic stare down. She usually doesn't let it work on her, but today is different. She's tired and wants to get this conservation out of the way so they can both get back to work.
Taking a small step forward, she flips the switch. The bright lights are lost, replaced with simpler, duller ones and instantly she feels better, her headache seemed to lessen. And yet, having Jethro so close, in the dim lights may not be a good idea. Especially when she has to stay well behaved.
"You've been looking at me all week like you wanna ask me something."
Jenny faces him head on, staring into those crystal blue eyes, as though she could handle it or him. The question that came next however, added a bit of shock to her system.
"Any health issues?" He asks, plain as day. Straight to the point as he usually is, if not always. She wondered how he noticed, they barely saw each other as it is. No-one else had mentioned anything, but then again, who would? Why risk pissing off the Director?
Her voice was shaky when she answered him, even she could tell: "I'm fine."
Jethro knew she was lying. Jenny was keeping something from him, his Jenny wasn't letting him in. He didn't know why. Sure, he remembered Paris and very fondly at that. Jenny had left him, not the other way around. And she was the one who, on her very first day, said no "off the job". But his gut told him that her reasoning to not let her guard down around him this time had nothing to do with their job titles.
Jenny hated pushing him away, but there was nothing he could do to fix her. No-one could fix this mess she had gotten herself into this time. How could she look him in the eye and tell him that she hated her own reflection? She hated how she'd aged since Paris, how she always seemed fat to herself, she never looked thin enough, pretty enough, happy enough. She was the very first female Director of an Armed Federal Agency and she could lead both men and women right up there with the best of them. But her personal undoing was when she looked in the mirror. Or got dressed in the mornings. Or ate any meal of the day. Three times a day she weighed herself she kept the scale hidden under the couch in her office, well out of plain view. She was a victim of her own destruction, and she always would be.
"Are you sick?" Jethro asked, hoping to himself and to whoever else was out there in this universe that he would get an honest answer, even if it was a painful one. He couldn't stand to see her in pain.
Jenny turns away from him, though not wanting to, and flips the switch. Lights up, elevator moving, headache returned.
"My health is fine. Yours, however, could take a turn for the worse if you don't wrap up this investigation."
She answers, expecting the conservation to be over. But expectations are always changing.
His eyes never left her since she got in the elevator. The doors ding and Jenny steps forward to get off at this floor, only to be blocked by the arm of a certain Special Agent. Jethro leans over her, presses a different floor, the doors close. After a moment he flips his favorite switch, then tries again:
"Jen, are you sick?"
"Jethro, didn't we just go over this?" She tries to sound strong and calm, hoping he won't see the chinks in her armor. She's not mad, just trying her honest best to be able to talk to him without completely breaking down, she does that enough in her office with the doors closed. Jethro Gibbs did not need to see her weak, but if the questions kept coming, that would be all he would see.
"Yes, we did. And I'll continue to go over it until I get an honest answer."
"Then enlighten me Jethro. What exactly do you see that makes you think I'm not telling you the truth?" 'Here we go.' Jenny thought to herself. He would give her his laundry list of things he saw, or thought he saw, and then demand a different answer. 'Smooth Jen, real smooth.'
"You're not the same Jenny. You've lost weight, you look tired all the time, which would explain why I've seen you consume more coffee than even I do these past few weeks." He pins himself between the doors and her, and gives his classic stare, "Something's gotta give Jen. What aren't you telling me?"
"Don't be so dramatic. It's not like I'm dying, it's nothing you should worry about. Really. Now, can we get off the elevator?" She wanted to run. Just run. Jenny wanted out of his gaze, out of these questions, and out of the elevator. She would go to her office, have a bourbon, work, weigh herself, work, then go home. But none of that would get done if she didn't get away from him. After all, he had his own work to do as well. Maybe by letting him in a little as she had done today, he would drop it. But then again, maybe not.
"I wouldn't be so dramatic if you would let me in." Jethro puts his hands on her shoulders at an attempt to get through to her. "You can tell me anything. Always."
Jenny Shepard could feel the tears brewing in her eyes, could feel the grapefruit sized knot in the back of her throat from trying to keep them at bay. Again. "I would tell you anything. But you couldn't handle this. Trust me." She reaches to her left, flips the switch, getting slightly nauseous from both the lights and the up and down from the elevator. She tries her best to shield her eyes from him, well knowing that if he sees tears he'll know something really is wrong. Which would do more damage than good right now. He takes his hands off her shoulders, and stands beside her like before.
"Jenny, if you were dying, would you tell me?"
As if perfectly planned, the metal doors ding, open, she only nods, and gets of the elevator. Realizing it's the wrong floor, but not caring, she works her way up the stairs to her office. She'll check in on Abby later. Upon reaching Cynthia's desk, "Cynthia, no calls and no-one in. I'll buzz you when that changes."
"Yes Madam Director."
Jenny walks into her office, locks the door, pours a large bourbon, and silently sobs.
Hours later, the case is closed, and the bullpen is empty, except for Gibbs. Half past 11pm, he takes out his cell phone and call downstairs to gate security, only to find out that Director Shepard had not left yet.
'That's it.'. He thinks to himself, and practically runs up the stairs to her office. Cynthia was gone and Jen's office doors were closed. Grabbing the handle to make his way into her office, the door was pulled away from him before he had a could grip on the handle himself.
His vision is met with Jenny standing in front of him, coat on, purse in hand, leaving.
"Jethro? What can I do for you?" She steps forward, turning away from him to lock the doors that on a daily basis he treated brutally to say the least. Although it was a brief moment that they saw each other face to face, he could tell. In the hours since their last conservation, her eyes were swollen and red around the edges. Jethro Gibbs knew this woman and he knew she had been crying, and heavily if her eyes told the truth, since he last saw her. Jenny looked pale. And thin. And sad.
"Have a conservation with me, honestly." He wanted the truth, he wanted to help, he wanted her. Damn him for it, but that was what he wanted.
"Then answer me this, why won't you drop it?" She spins back around to face him. Their height difference favored him a few inches, but she looked him right in the eye, wanting to know the real reason behind all of his asking today.
Two different people, each wanting answers from the other.
"Because Jen, I want to make sure you're okay." She was standing outside her own office in painful shoes, tired, and yet she couldn't walk away from him right now.
"I can assure you Jethro, I'm fine."
Her voice now, late at night, sounded worse than it did in the elevator, she could see the recognition on his face again.
He couldn't believe her about this. She wanted to keep him out, either to protect him or what else, he was unsure.
"Then let me drive you home. You can invite me in for a drink." Jethro smirked, thinking that a step out of her work world would get her to relax. And maybe then she would let her walls fall so he could help.
"Chauvinist." Jenny commented while laughing. "As long as I can drink, I can't say no. Shall we?"
He nodded, following her to the elevator with his hand on her lower back. Even though a brief touch, with his hand lingering lightly, it was still a motion that warmed her.