NCIS is not mine.

This is the first story I have written in what feels like ages. For those waiting on Who I Am Today, let's just face the fact it probably isn't coming. I've got maybe 4 chapters written? The rest is just a mishmash of lunacy.

Anyway, here we go.

Enjoy!

Sticks and Stones

Chapter One: The first meeting

The first time that Doctor Donald Mallard met Jennifer Gibbs, she was in the process of returning her surname and the ring on her left hand, to the infamous Leroy Jethro Gibbs. The good Doctor had not thought much of the woman; he'd just assumed she was another in the long line of red heads he had heard so much about. Another one who was to be left heart broken in the former Marine's wake. If the look of hurt, sadness and regret in her eye was anything to go by then he was certain that his first impression was right.

The second time he met her, she was in the middle of a blazing row, and he couldn't resist the temptation to place his ear to the door. The second time he met her, Doctor Donald Mallard realised that in actual fact, he had been further from the truth than he ever imagined that he could be.

September 2000

Paris, since the moment she had landed in the city five years ago, it had felt like such a blissful place which was unaware of the rest of the world. Where time could stand still and yet rush by in the same instant. The old historic buildings that lined every street she walked down, with their detailed stonework, archways and intricate glasswork. Cobbled streets; winding down towards the river, and then busy ones running completely parallel. It was a city so in tune with the rest of the world in one sense – technology, art and fashion, and yet so in a world of its own as well.

The red head turned and looked in the mirror, running a hand through the long red wavy locks. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she was living in her student flat in America, studying at Virginia polytechnic and interning in the summer. She smiled; the sun was shining through the French windows, filling the room with a warm glow. The walls, which were painted in the palest of greens, gave a tranquil feel, and contrasted just enough with the white washed furniture to as chic and classy as its owner.

She ran a hand over the front of her cream fitted dress. The panelling gave the illusion of the perfect silhouette, and made her hair look like fire in comparison. She walked over to the window and slipped on the black Louboutin shoes, accelerating her height by five inches. Grabbing her red trench coat, and slipping it on, as well as her black A4 clutch, she left the apartment which sat in the city centre. Placing the old fashioned brass key into her pocket she made her way down the black wrought iron staircase that lead her straight to the pavement below.

It was only reasonably early, 07:00; most people had yet to leave for work. The small cobbled back streets she walked along were quiet, the shop keepers were yet to raise their blinds and welcome the world inside. The sound of her heels clip clopping on the stone pavement to a steady beat was one of the few noises that signalled the city waking.

The coffee shop she was heading to was only small, it sat on the corner of two small streets, a little terrace house that sprawled out onto the street. Cold black metal chairs and tables sitting on the cobbles, perilously wobbling on the uneven surface below.

He ran a hand through his hair. Nearly nine months after moving to the city and it still didn't feel like home. The team he was working with were all married and had families. There was no Stan Burley to make jokes. Begrudgingly he had to admit he missed Steve. But that agent was on a ship somewhere, and Will was in LA. The team that he had worked with since Franks left had split up.

Gibbs walked down the narrow side street, heading towards the café on the corner. He'd discovered it a week after he had arrived. One late night, walking home, and just a little bit disorientated had lead to its discovery. The coffee had been the best he's had since he left the states and now it was his usual morning stop.

As he walked into the shop he was busy looking for his phone, rummaging through his pockets in a hope that he would find the noisy object that was driving him insane. However, the usually alert marine didn't see the woman walking out of the building. Coffee in hand and her own phone to her ear as she rambled on about the benefits of spun cotton as oppose to standard. The next thing they both knew, she was quickly hanging up and they both had coffee on them.

"Dammit." Gibbs swore as he looked down at the coffee stain on his red polo shirt.

"Oh, for god's sake!" Jenny hissed as she saw the brown stain that was covering her cream dress.

"Dammit." Gibbs swore for a second time as he looked up to see the woman who was staring down in anger at her dress. "C'mere." The agent said as he placed his hand on her elbow and led her over to a table, where paper napkins were being held in a silver tin. He grabbed a couple and was about to begin wiping her dress when she spoke.

"What do you think you're doing?" She questioned, raising an eyebrow at the stranger who was about to start touching her up.

"Cleaning you dress." He said, staring into her green eyes. And jeez, they were green, like emeralds that flashed with lightening. He didn't even notice the hair until moments later, and then he had to find his breath. It fell below her shoulders, thick and in loose waves that made him want to run his hands through it.

"I don't think so." She commented, taking the paper napkins out of his hand and beginning to let them absorb some of the liquid. However, despite her attempt, she was well aware that it was going to stain. She looked up at him, staring at her. "If you want to help you can buy me a new coffee seeming as you decided it would look better on my dress. Americano with an extra shot, and room for a splash of milk – skimmed."

He didn't say anything as he walked off, and Jenny frowned as he disappeared into the shop. Shaking her head she grabbed another handful of napkins and pressed them against the stain on her abdomen. Mentally, she thanked god that she had decided to bring her trench coat, at least that way she could fasten it up on her walk to the office and then change into the clothes she had at work.

After a couple more minutes she decided that she was not going to get the stain to disappear. Grumbling to herself, she grabbed the trench coat and put it on, fastening the buttons and tying the belt around her waist. Thankful that the dress was shorter than the jacket so the stain could not be seen. "Here." The man said, and she turned to look at him holding over her coffee.

Silently the woman took the coffee, placed it on the table and grabbed a napkin. Then, taking a black ball point pen out of her clutch she quickly wrote the address of her office down and handed it to him. "You can send me a check to cover the cost of my dry cleaning – and be thankful I don't sue your ass for negligence."

With that she picked up her coffee and walked away. "I don't even know your name." Gibbs said, and she turned around, frowning. "Who do I make the cheque out to?"

"Jennifer Shepard." And with that she walked away, Gibbs watched her, eyes fixed on the figure as she sauntered away, hips swaying and phone pressed to her ear.

"…yeah, sorry. Some idiot decided to spill his coffee down my dress. Where were we?" She questioned, pausing to cross the road, and as she turning to look behind her, she the mysterious coffee spiller walking away. Well, she thought to herself, at least he was attractive.

September 2004

Ducky stood there talking to the silver haired former marine. He hadn't been with NCIS long; in fact it was only a few months. Previously he'd worked for the Medical Examiner's office, but a cut to their budget had meant that he took redundancy. Luckily, that was about the same time that NCIS' medical examiner retired. The allurement of more time and fewer bodies was too much for the Scotsman to resist.

The ding of the lift was nothing out of the ordinary, but both still turned to look. It was getting late, 19:00 hours, and most people were heading home for the night. Not many were arriving. They paused their conversation, but Ducky swiftly continued upon not seeing anyone he recognised. However, Gibbs did not say a word, he remained silent. The reason being was that the woman walking out of the lift was a very familiar red head.

The Medical Examiner quickly realised that he was talking to himself, and quietened as the woman walked towards them. The doctor took in the woman's appearance, long red hair that fell way down her back in natural, thick, curls, and eyes that were a special kind of green. She wore a dress with leggings, a thin material that fell high up her thigh and had a floral pattern on it, filled with greens and purples. The sleeved were long, and sheer, and the ensemble, teemed with black heeled Louboutin boots, was classy and yet individual at the same time. Her makeup wasn't heavy, but it exaggerated the colour of her eyes and china doll like appearance of her skin.

She was deadly attractive, that was something that Ducky could not deny. But there was a look in her eyes, something that dulled what he guessed had once been bright and sparkling orbs of life. "Jenny." Gibbs said, as he looked at her. "What are you doing here?" The Doctor could hear the other man attempting to mask his emotions.

She opened the black A4 sized clutch bag. She always carried one of those, she always had. Gibbs had always joked it was because she wanted to carry the office around with her. It was probably the truth too. Jenny had bought a red clutch when he was with her once, and he had nearly fainted at the price. That job of hers meant that she had more money than he knew what to do with, and whilst she generally spent it cautiously, she would splurge every now and again.

"My lawyer said to give you these." She said; her voice soft as she handed over a wad of papers. Gibbs looked at her, she was thinner, there was more concealer under her eyes than there had been the first time her met her – fatigue. He was pretty sure she had said that was a symptom, however he had thought that they would all be gone by now. The dress was floaty, not fitted. He hadn't seen her in anything fitted since that dreaded day. He missed her figure, he'd always loved it.

"Is the post service on strike?" He questioned, receiving a cold harsh glare.

"No, but unlike you I was never scared to show my face. And if memory serves me right you don't go home, so how would you know you have post?"

"I go home." He replied.

"Must just have been when I was there that you didn't want to then." He felt like someone had stabbed him. He'd loved her more than any of his other ex-wives. She was the one that he thought he would be able to move on with. He had thought… he had thought she was his shot at happiness. Yet someone else had obviously had other ideas. Because now he was being handed divorce papers. She looked down at her left finger, at the ring that sat there. It was stunning; she had always thought it was. A gold band, with a diamond set in the middle, a sapphire one side and an emerald the other. Unique, classy, simple, just how she loved things, and he had known that. He had known her better than she knew herself. Then there was the simple plain gold wedding band.

She slid the rings off, and placed the wedding band on top of the papers that were on his desk. Then she looked at the engagement ring. She still remembered the night that he had proposed: on the bank of the river Seine, beneath the stars, when no one else was around. They'd gone for a walk after going out for dinner, and then they'd danced, just as they had done numerous times with just their breathing for music. Jenny remembered the feeling of seeing him on one knee, the way her heart had stopped, her breath had been snatched. So cliché and yet… he hadn't said anything soppy like they do in the films. He'd just gone 'Marry me?' in typical Gibbs style. Simple, short and straight to the point.

Paris, was engraved on the inside of the ring. Two Americans meeting in a foreign city, it was their city now. She took one last look at the sparkling ring, and closed her eyes as she placed it down with the wedding band. "Jenny-" Gibbs began. He had expected her to give him the wedding band, but not her engagement ring. Her giving him that… it was like she was giving him Paris back. Telling him that it wasn't their city anymore, that it was just another place, another city. That it didn't matter about their story, about the nights spent in her apartment, or the dancing under the moonlight. They were all in the past, forgotten, lost and never to be wrenched back up.

"Keep it." She said, looking at him. It was hard to say goodbye to the only man she had ever loved in that way. Hard to end a marriage that she had thought would last for all of eternity. But some things were too big to be able to mend with a therapist. Some wounds were too deep.

"You don't have to. We can fix this." He said, and she just looked at him. Blinked away the tears, and ran a finger through her hair.

"You weren't there. You weren't there when I needed you, when they were fixing me." She took a deep breath, and turned to Ducky. She smiled softly at the older man, but it was a sad smile. "I'm sorry to have interrupted your conversation." She said, before turning and looking at her husband. "You can post my lawyer the papers." And with that the red head walked away.

Gibbs ran a hand through his hair. As Jenny waited for the lift she turned and looked over at the MCRT division, just as Gibbs looked over at her. In that moment their eyes met in a way they hadn't done in a long time. There was spark, but that spark was blown away into the distance when the lift arrived. Jenny turned away, and Gibbs just watched her go.

He looked down at his desk and saw a takeout cup of coffee that he didn't even see her put down. He picked it up and took a sip, closing his eyes momentarily at the taste which assaulted him with memories.

Americano with an extra shot and a splash of milk- skimmed.

September 2000

He stood outside of the small townhouse in the city centre. The small road it was sat on was quiet, cobbled, and primarily residential. There was a small sign hung over the door, it was oak and had the words 'á ma maison' engraved into it in cursive font. The former marine walked forward, turned the door knob and stepped inside. The room that greeted him was one of the three that formed the business premises. That particular room had two desks, opposite one another. The walls were painted in a pastel blue so pale it was almost white, the furniture was whitewashed, but the two chairs which sat opposite the door were covered in bright patchwork fabric.

The second room was where they held their meetings. It had a large sofa, and then two chairs, all sat around a large high coffee table which generally was filled with scraps of paper and samples within just two minutes. The final room was what Jenny generally referred to as the grotto. It was a kitchen, well was meant to be. It was filled almost to bursting with fabric, furniture she had bought at markets and nicknacks she had picked up whenever she saw them.

At the sound of the door opening the red head looked up from her desk. Her assistant's was vacant as she was running errands, so the red head was alone in the building. It had been a few days since the whole coffee fiasco, and she had not expected to see the man behind the chaos again. But there he stood, looking just as handsome as she had tried to forget him looking.

The agent ran a hand through his hair, and smirked wryly, taking in the appearance of the woman opposite. The dress which had featured a coffee stain had been traded in for a cream pencil skirt and a green silk blouse."Can I help you?" The red head questioned, softly placing her pen down and looking straight at the gentleman stood in her doorway.

"Thought I'd bring you your cheque." He stated, waving the piece of paper in his hand. She stood up, proving Gibbs with the opportunity to take in her beauty once more, and catch sight of the impossibly high green heels which encased her feet. She walked forward with ease on the women flooring, took the cheque off of him and returned to her desk, leaning against the edge of it.

"Thank you." She stated, expecting him to go, when he made no sign to do so she questioned: "Was there something else?"

"Wondered if you wanted to get dinner sometime." He stated, boldly, causing Jenny to raise an eyebrow, taken aback.

"So you can ruin one of my dresses with red wine this time? I think I'll pass." She stated, as she went to sit back down, pick up her pen and get back to work. Signalling the conversation was over. As he left her office she guessed that would not be the last time she saw him, not that she minded… as long as he left her dresses alone.