Disclaimer – I don't own ncis

Author's note – This story I near enough my own story. I've wanted to write this since I got my diagnosis, but couldn't find the courage. I hope you all read this, and I hope it tells you about something so few people know about. Some parts are brief, but I think it copes alright. All the facts are true, and all mine.

Please read, enjoy, but appreciate the tale it tells.

Thank you

Sometimes, forever seems like it could pass by before her eyes. When someone says I'll love you forever and then is gone by the time your eyes open. Is that forever? When you're mother hugs you yet by the time you have your first boyfriends she's gone. Is that forever? Or are they examples of a forever that never lasts, because in reality nothing ever last forever and a day like we would wish it to. Because life intercepts, life comes pushing in all brash, it takes away everyone who ever wanted to stand by your side in an instant. It removes those who care about you without a second thought. In the end though, when it all comes down to it only one thing will last forever – until the day you die. And that is that knowledge that at any point in your life you could be left alone.

For Jenny Shepard, growing up the feeling she'd always be alone only happened every now and again. Until the age of twelve she had a mother who was always there for her, and a father who loved her even when he was deployed overseas. But when her father would walk down those stairs in dress uniform with a certain look on his face she knew that there was always that chance. Because it was on those days when her father attended a funeral her mother would always cry. Twice she attended one too. The first time she was only four, and she'd gone against her better judgement – the second time she'd been ten. It was then she had learnt that in the life she lived she could lose her father any day. But it wasn't her father she lost first – but her mother, because only two months later her mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer. Jenny hadn't understood what that meant at first, but a year and a half later she did.

There are only a few moments that twenty five years later Jenny can remember with her mum. But the one she does is where she hugged her mother, there was no warm comforting feel of her mother's hug the therapy she'd undergone had taken away her long red hair and any weight. At the age of eleven and a half Jenny learnt her mother was to die, and six months later she did. There was no peaceful drifting off like there is in the movies; instead she died in hospital, a drip in her arm, an oxygen mask over her face and a morphine running through her veins.

With her father out on a shipment and her mother refusing to let him know what was happening twelve year old Jennifer Shepard learnt for the first time in her life how short forever could be.

At the age of eighteen she came home to find her fathers' lifeless body in the study: a supposed suicide. Two nights later she scrubbed the oak flooring with bleach for hours, unable to get the image of blood off of the floor boards. Naomi the house keeper had removed the brush from her hand and held her as the tears fell. For JEnny, that was when she gave up on forever. Because, in that moment everyone who had ever promised it to her had been so brutally taken away.

It wasn't until five years later, when she gave birth to her daughter, that she had to promise someone forever. And against her better judgement she did. To a strawberry blonde, green eyed, Amelia Grace Shepard she did just that. Her father a marine who had promised her forever and left after due course. Jenny was left alone, but then Noemi had returned to the old Georgetown house and lent her hand. She'd gotten Jenny back on her feet and into NCIS. When Jenny had been partnered with Gibbs for an undercover operation just before her little girls fourth birthday Noemi had waved as she drove off.

But as she had left Jenny had never counted on falling in love. Jethro had made her forget about her vow of never to give forever. He'd made her smile and feel love in a way no one ever had before. Then, one day she nearly got shot. That night he said he'd be there for her forever – no matter what. She realised how close her daughter had come to losing her mother, and the next day when she had been set to return to DC, she'd gone to London. Amelia and Noemi meeting her the next day.

It would be seven years until they would return back to Washington DC. Seven years until she would have to face Jethro, the man she had left behind again. But with a 13 year old daughter and Noemi still loyalty by her side she did. On that first day at work, as director she saw him. In the darkened room of MTAC, and he still looked the same. It was only after the hunt for Ari, after Kate's funeral and a further week she explained to him why she'd left. But more than that, she told him about her daughter. The one he'd never known she'd had.

Two years passed them all by. Amelia never once came to NCIS but became a happy 15 year old girl. She jumped ahead two years in school and began to study Criminal Law and biology with the hope of becoming a surgeon or follow in her mother's footsteps in NCIS. Amelia grew to love pale denim shorts, black patterned opaque tights. She grew into a fan of rock music but have elegant taste. Black eyeliner thick along her top lid and stilettos like her mother's become an everyday look. Then the shakes she'd experienced in small doses all her life began to reappear. Noemi did what they'd always done, forced her to eat a higher amount of sugar.

It wasn't until a week later they began to get worried. Amelia had always loved sports, loved swimming most of all. It was her mum's weekend off and that's what they'd planned on doing, only the pool was closed. So, laughing they went onto the badminton court. Neither could play particularly well but it was fun, and after an hour of so they'd managed to get a rally of some sorts going. So, in high spirits they returned home.

"Hey Noemi!" shouted Amelia as she ran through the door dressed in a pair of black leggings and a baggy Navy polo shirt.

"Hola Senorita." Said the Spanish woman as she began to cut two large pieces of cake. Amelia poured two cups of coffee. She ignored the shaking in her hands.

"Noemi, that cake looks amazing!" said Jenny coming in with a smile on her face. Amelia walked over to her mum with a cup of coffee, but her hands got worse and the shakes went mad. Moments later there was a cup shattered on the tiled floors. "Amelia, are you oaky?" questioned her mum, all of a sudden both lady's fussing over her. She replied she was, just a little wet and said she was off to go change.

I went into my room. The truth was I wasn't wet at all, just scared. MY hands had been getting worse of late and I was pretty sure it wasn't normal. Sitting on my bed I stared at my hands, the red nail varnish appearing blurred as they continued to shake. It'd only come up here so they wouldn't hear my voice crack. Silently I felt tears sliding down my cheeks. Angrily I brushed them away and went to change into something different so it at least didn't look like I hadn't been wet. The whole time I struggled. My gold cross became the hardest thing in the world to put on as my hands refused to work.

Ten minutes later Amelia returned downstairs. A new cup of coffee had been made, and she sat next to her mum as she ate and drank. Her hands still shaking.

It was a week before she went to the doctors, another before a referral, and a further two months of shaking before a diagnosis. In that time things changed, and Jenny noticed it. Her daughter stopped wearing eyeliner, and when Jenny asked why she just claimed she had run out. Yet even after a new one had been bought it was never worn. Her fingernails always painted became plain. Jenny didn't say anything.

Yet as they finally sat in the consolation room that belonged to the director of paediatric medical research they finally found out why. Amelia was diagnosed with a benign essential tremor. "What does that mean?" asked Amelia.

"It's hard to explain. It's not known about very much, the main treatment is via beater blockers, yet unfortunately due to your mild asthma you're unable to have those. Basically it could go with age, or it could worsen. But for now there is little we can do. You will experience short bursts of shakes, unless they become more constant I am hesitant to give you any medication due to side effects."

"What about her future?" questioned Jenny.

"Job wise? You won't be able to be a surgeon, it's too dangerous. Anything that requires specific or detailed hand eye coordination you will struggle with."

And that was it, the doctors telling me I was screwed up and they wouldn't help me. Mum told me I was wrong, that it wasn't what they were saying. Yet it was what I heard. Something changed after that. I seemed to lose the will I suppose to aspire. Mum became different, as though she was treading on eggshells one minute and all angry the next. I was never sure what I should say. So I started a diary, only one day mum saw it, I know she did because I left It open and she closed it.

A month and a half after the diagnosis Jenny walked into her daughters room. Jenny sighed; the walls had pictures of her daughter and friends on them. Revision posters too. There were little bits of junk dotted all over and Jenny sighed. On the bed she saw a book and against her better judgement she read it. It was her daughters diary.

Hey Diary…

I had a test today in English. 'How does Shakespeare present the theme of Romance in 'A midsummer night's dream'? My hands shook the whole time. I spoke to my biology tutor, he says he'll help, but how can he. My friends don't know, only a few of them. Someone asked me what the big deal was with shaking hands today, I wanted to run out of the room. No one understands me, it sounds pathetic but it's how I feel.

I've given up drawing for the moment; it all seems to turn out wrong. I struggle to type on my laptop because the keys are too close together and I can't control my hands. The doctor never said anything about slow reactions.

Mum seems upset. I think I've let her down, I wish I knew how to control them. Nothing seems to work. When they shake I just want to cry. I spoke to my tutor, she says she'll help if I want it, I don't know how she can.

Eye liner had been added to the list of things I give up with – I looked like a goth who had been out in the rain. Lipstick is fast approaching.

I want to meet Gibbs, mum had him over the other night – I was revising. He seemed to cheer her up, she laughed. Maybe things could get better soon, maybe he could help.

Whatever happens I know I'll have mum, always but not forever ;)

-melia.

A tear fell down Jen's cheek. Amelia was out with friends, and Jethro was home. She went over that day. She told him everything, about the tremor and the diary. She cried at the fact things had been taken away from her daughter and he held her the whole time. He knew she needed someone. And he would b there no matter what. When her tears had subsided he cupped her cheek and kissed her softly. He kissed her and told her in his own way he'd help. That night he took her home. As she kissed him one last time she whispered "please stay." And he did. She walked through the door. "I'm home." Amelia came down the stairs, going quiet when she saw Gibbs.

"Amelia this is-"

"It's Gibbs. I know, I heard you two the other night. You made mum laugh – thank you. She needs to laugh more."

"Amelia-" began Jenny.

"It's fine Jen, she's right, you do." Jenny just blushed.

"She must like you Gibbs." Said Amelia walking into the kitchen.

"Why?" he shouted after her. Poking her head around the door she smiled.

"Because the last person who called her 'Jen' now won't be able to have kids."

It became a regular thing, Jethro staying over. It was with his help Jenny began to smile more often. And even when they kissed and Amelia moaned, inside she was glad her mum had someone. Four months after the last time, Jenny read her daughter's diary. Only this time it had intentionally been left open.

Diary, since we have know each other for a while I shall name you . . . I think seeming as you are purple it should be a girls name, and I believe I shall name you . . . *drum roll*

Polly!

So, hey Polly!

I saw the team again today. Ziva took me down to the basement and we threw knives. They help, all of them, they've each taught me a way to control not only my hands but my mind. Ziva with knives, Gibbs with sanding the boat, Abby with music, Tony with films and McGee with finding the right keyboard and helping me get lost in a fictional world. I still can't do eyeliner, still can't do some of the things I used to. But now at least my mind is at rest.

Thanks mum, I know you are reading this, and thank you – for everything!

They became a family within a year. All of them together. And in the years that followed they all helped Amelia pass her training and join NCIS. Even when everything fell apart all those years ago when she'd first been diagnosed, now things seemed to be sorting themselves out. She'd always have the tremor, always have problems, but now she'd learn that things could be perfect. And Jenny, Jenny still feared forever, but slowly was getting accustomed to always. They all lost control at one point, but now were slowly regaining it.

Author's note – I haven't found my way of escaping my tremor, music helps but nothing for me currently helps me escape. I want you to all appreciate that an Essentual Tremmor whislt seeming minor to you, can tear someone up, not everyone but some.

I hope more than anything this story will raise your awareness, and maybe, help others see there is a light.

Thank you, I'd appreciate your reviews.

If you have any questions about the tremor, or my story just ask on here, twitter ( abs_fashionista ) ortumblr ( fanfictiongirl97 ) I'm always happy to answer.

Thank you

A xx