Disclaimer: I sadly don't own any of the wonderful characters in this story. I do, however, own a 7 iron. Or my parents do. But it's technically mine. That really doesn't matter though does it? What does matter is that I own nothing you recognize.

The Power of FOREsight

Washington DC, 1997

The building of NCIS was completely empty and silent, spare the night guard and the lone team in the bullpen. The team in the bull pen were pouring over thin files and occasionally filling in blanks. It was completely quiet, other than the scratching of their pens against paper. A man with graying hair sat at the largest desk, his hand moving furiously to sign the papers. Two younger men faced each other, neither really paying attention to their paperwork. The final person in the bullpen was a young woman with flaming red hair.

The clock ticked slowly towards the 5:30 mark. Both men were watching it carefully, waiting for it to finish its journey.

"Alright, Boss. We're done," Stan Burley said cheerfully as he scooped up his bag and coat.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow." Decker added, not too far behind his partner. Gibbs watched them go, a slightly disapproving slant to his eyebrows.

He turned back to his probie across from him and asked, "How'd they finish early? Normally it takes them all night to finish."

Jenny didn't spare him a glance as she said, "Maybe they were just more motivated." Her hand just kept on moving across the page.

"How much more you got?" Gibbs questioned as he began pulling on his brown jacket.

"Uh, I dunno." Jenny shrugged halfheartedly, her attention still on her paperwork.

Gibbs stared at her doubtfully, but did not comment on it. Instead he said, "Well they better have it done. JAG wants this situation dealt with as fast as possible. We need everything in a nice, neat bow for them." His eyes glinted coldly at the thought of their murderer. A marine who had killed his brother-in-law, a fellow Naval officer, and then threw the body off of a bridge. It had been found by a yacht tour, with many of the rich and famous on board, and attracted massive amounts of press. He hated the press.

"Mm-hm. I'll get it done. Just go home to your wife, boss." she said coolly, still not sparing him a glance. Gibbs shrugged and began making his trek towards the elevator. As the doors slid shut he glanced back towards Jenny, an odd pang of regret in his stomach.

He shouldered the door open, a sense of weariness weighing down on him. He attributed it to the case, but deep down he knew it had to do with the woman waiting inside.

"Leroy!" A high pitched voice trilled from the kitchen. "Leroy! You're finally home! I saw your case was on the news." Gibbs swore this woman spoke in only exclamation marks. He made his way into the kitchen where Diane was making dinner. "It's so nice to see you. I had almost forgotten what you looked like," she commented coldly, her blue eyes narrowed menacingly at him.

"I had-"

"Work, yes. I'm sure you did." Then her face lightened and she added cheerfully, "Dinner's in the oven. Give it half an hour."

He had half a mind to ask her if it was poisoned, but chose not to push it. Instead, he trudged over to the TV and flipped on the game. Gibbs' mind was half focused on the game, the other half thinking who knows what. An irritating buzzing vibrated against his thigh. And with a heavy sigh, he flipped open his phone, "Gibbs," he answered curtly. "What's it this time, Shep?"

"Uh, you need to sign the evidence report."

"I know."

"And you didn't."

"So?"

"You need to sign it," she repeated exasperatedly.

"Fine. I'll be back over there in 15."

"No, I can stop by. It's on my way home,"

"Fine," he barked before snapping the phone closed.

"Who was that?" Diane asked as she walked into the room.

"Probie," Diane looked at him suspiciously. "Needs a form signed by tonight."

Diane glared at him as she spat out, "So you're going back to work?"

Gibbs shook his head stoically. Diane's cold eyes were shooting daggers at the back of his silvery head. She cleared her throat loudly, prompting him to continue. Only the agent didn't pick up on the hint, and returned to watching the game. "Leroy, are you going back in?"

"Hmm? No, Shep's dropping by."

Diane seemed sated by this response and disappeared back into the kitchen. Life was good in the world of Gibbs at that moment. Everything was peaceful. He was fine thinking alone, the game proving to be more white noise then actual interest. He was broken out of his musings by the harsh buzz of the doorbell.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of red hair from the kitchen as Diane whirred out of it. Red hair. "Crap," he swore under his breath. Why hadn't he thought of that before?

He slinked into the hallway, curious to see his wife's reaction to the newest addition to his team.

Diane yanked open the door, a sour look firmly in place. "Hi," Jenny greeted, holding up the file for Diane to see.

Diane's eyes raked over Jenny, pausing on the ridiculous heels. "We don't want any cookies." Diane spat out.

Gibbs watched as Jenny's brow furrowed and she said slowly, "Uh, I'm here for Gibbs."

Diane spun on her heels and glared at him sharply. "Leroy. Your Probie," she spat the word like it had personally offended her, "is here." then stalked into the kitchen.

"Hey Boss." Jenny smirked at him, a wicked glint in her eye.

"Shepard," he nodded stiffly. "Just give me the damn file." Gibbs hurriedly scribbled a signature at the bottom of the file. Jenny tucked the file into her purse, still grinning. "A word of this to Burley or Decker and you'll be on desk duty for a month."

"Aye-aye, boss," she winked overindulgently at him, causing him to scowl even more. "See you tomorrow, Gibbs."

"Bye, Shep." Jenny sauntered out, swinging the bag over her shoulder.

He turned around, only to find himself nose to nose with his wife. Diane's face was contorted in a grimace and she was already yelling.

He caught the words, "Redhead" and "probie" before he fled to the basement and his boat. After pouring himself a generous mug of bourbon, he set to work on his boat. The only sound in the room was the gentle scrape of the sandpaper against the corner of the beam he was working on.

Gibbs had no clue how much time had passed when Diane shrieked for him. "Leeerrroooyyy! Dinner!" He shot a glare towards the source of the voice, but trudged up anyway.

Diane had already laid the food out and was seated across from him, delicately sipping a glass of wine. He dropped himself into the chair and began picking at the chicken. It was rubbery and bland, but he knew better then to say anything, especially the way she was in after Jenny's visit.

She had flicked on the TV for lack of a better thing to do. A newsman is a dusty brown suit was holding court, papers gripped in his hands pompously. "…and federal authorities arrested Sargent Frank Hoffman at two o'clock this afternoon. According to this report, they found a finger print on the cartridge of the gun used to kill Colonel Theodore Ribbins. JAG is planning on prosecuting as quickly as possible." Gibbs tore his eyes away as the news channel played footage of his team at the crime scene. Burley and Decker were collecting evidence and taking pictures. Ducky was hunched over the deceased, talking to his assistant, Martha. He was interviewing the people who had found the body, and Shepard was standing next to him.

The camera stayed on his interview. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jenny giving an older man in an army uniform a tight hug. She had later told him it was a good friend of her father's, a retired Army General who had a lot of influence at the pentagon.

"…aboard the boat that discovered Colonel Ribbins' body were many influencal members of the community. This includes Senator George Ronald, successful CEO Quinn Lowe, and General Howard O'Donoghue. The General is pictured in this shot." They zoomed in on him talking to Jenny, a limp smile on his face. It seemed sad, and Gibbs assumed it was about the dead man, but there was also an undercurrent of pity. Gibbs shook his head slightly, it must be in his mind. "And now on to more cheerful news. Doctor Carrab may have found a cure to the common cold…"

Gibbs moved his attention back to the meal in front of him. He chose to ignore the killer glares he was receiving.

Once he cleared his dishes off, Gibbs started towards the basement again.

"Leroy!" Diane barked. He turned to face her, leaning against the doorframe. "Were you planning on telling me about your new partner? Your redhead, female partner?"

"Shepard's not my partner," he responded, staring her straight in the eye.

Diane laughed, a cold, unfeeling laugh, "Oh, then what is she? Your lover?"

"No, she's my probie. I'm her training officer. God, Diane. I would never cheat on you! Shepard is just a probie. Nothing more." Gibbs tore his hands roughly through his hair in frustration. The faintest niggle of a lie clung to the pit of his stomach as he said those words.

"How can I know that? You spend all your time at work. You're probably with, what did you call her, Shep?"

"And Decker and Burley. We're a team."

"But you didn't think it was important to tell your wife any of this? Is it because you're sleeping with her? You probably are," her eyes were wild with fury, "You didn't think I would want to know about her?"

"No, I didn't think you would. Because you would react like this!" Whirling on his heel, he stalked towards the basement.

"Oh Leroy!" Diane called, mirth filling her voice. Her hand shot out and she grabbed the nearest thing, her seven. Gibbs turned sharply, turning right into the head of the club. Pain seared through the right side of his head. A hand immediately clutched the wound, a warm liquid dribbling down the back of it.

"Goddammit. What the hell, Diane?"

"Just giving you what you deserve," she sang, strolling casually back to the kitchen, as if she hadn't just tried to smash in her husband's skull.

Still muttering curses, Gibbs staggered towards the door, managing to grab his coat before slipping out into the frigid air.

He started the old truck with a shudder and drove out of his alley, away from his apparently murderous wife. A slight flurry of snow began drifting down.

After an hour, or maybe more, the throbbing in his head had increased tenfold. The blood had dried in his hair and the cool air stung.

The flurries had picked up with a stronger wind. And it whistled against the gaps in the truck.

He pressed a few tentative fingers to the wound, it stung painfully, confirming the severity of it. He spared a glance outside, surprised to find himself parked in front of the NCIS a sigh, Gibbs yanked the key out of the ignition.

Cold air bit into the exposed skin of his head, eliciting a hiss from the gruff marine. He hurried to the building, his hands buried in his coat pockets.

"Xavier," he nodded to the dozing guard.

Xavier jerked to attention and muttered, "Agent Gibbs," not really registering the special agent's arrival.

The soft glow of the elevator was harsh after the darkness outside. With a light ding, he plowed out. He was shocked to find a lone light still on. Perhaps it was the night shift.

Gibbs made a beeline for his desk and the small medikit in the drawer. He didn't notice the sleeping woman on the ground behind the desk across from him.

He was in the process of cleaning out the wound when the women woke up, "Whatdya doin' 'ere, boss?" Jenny asked groggily. Gibbs whipped around, a half open bandage gripped in his hand.

"Hurt my head. Figured I had better supplies here than at home. Why are you still here? Thought you were going home after you stopped by."

"Nah, had to do Burley and Decker's reports." Gibbs' eyebrows shot up at her words.

"And why didn't they do their own?" he asked, thinking of the two men who had left early. And evidently left the probie to do their work. "You been up all night?" Jenny nodded stiffly, rubbing a hand over the tender muscle in her neck.

"So, what happened to your head?"

Gibbs' eyebrows scrunched up for a split second as he thought of an appropriate response. He settled on the truth, "Diane took a swing at me. With a golf club." Jenny at least had the grace to look pityingly at him before stifling her giggle.

She inhaled heavily, then asked, "What'd you do, boss? Kick her cat,"

"Nah, we got in an argument. Something about my boat,"

"You've got a boat?"

"Building one," he replied simply.

Jenny's green eyes narrowed quickly, "Where?"

"My basement," Gibbs said laconically, holding the bandage against his head with a wince.

"Your basement," scoffed Jenny, "You've got to be kidding me?" She took one look at Gibbs' face and stopped laughing, "Oh god, you aren't. Do you not have a social life? Oh who am I kidding. Geez, really? Your basement?" Jenny shot him a questioning gaze, hoping he was. But Gibbs just stared back, completely deadpan.

"Something wrong with that, Probie?" He asked, one eyebrow cocked towards his graying hair.

Jenny shook her head, a small smile still on her lips. "Nope," she said popping the P, "Nothing at all boss." Gibbs shook his head slightly at her antics, but that small motion seemed to aggravate the wound and he didn't mask the discomfort that flashed across his face. "You okay?"

"'m fine," he muttered gruffly.

Jenny shot him a patronizing glare, "No, you aren't. You probably didn't clean it right. I'll fix it," She moved from behind her desk, legs still stiff from lying on the floor. Gibbs tried to ward her off with his normal Probie smiting glare, but the redhead merely rolled her eyes and perched herself on the end of his desk. Her nimble finger peeled off the hastily smacked on bandage and she gasped quietly when the wound was exposed. "Geez, what'd you do?"

"Told you, Diane hit me."

"With a golf club," Jenny added under her breath. A piece of cotton was dripping with sharp smelling alcohol and Jenny was about to press it to his head when Gibbs caught her wrist.

"I need some of that too before you clean it out." Jenny's eyebrows shot towards her hair line. Gibbs heaved out a sigh and reached a hand down to one of the empty drawers. He emerged with a amber bottle of bourbon and two small mugs. He was too busy filling the cups to notice a pair of green eyes rolling towards the ceiling.

And he was fairly sure she also muttered something along the lines of, "Baby," He responded with a goofy, childlike smirk. Before he was even fully aware of what she was doing, the alcoholic cotton was on his skin. A short burst of breath escaped Gibbs' lips as the liquid stung against his open skin.

Soon she was smoothing out the edges of the cloth against his skin. Once she was finished, Gibbs lifted one of the mugs to his lips and downed it in one.

Jenny raised her's in the air, "To new partners?"

"To new partners," he affirmed, a smile playing across the normally stoic lips.

Hello there dear reader! So some of you may know me as mischief-manager00. Welcome to my new profile for old friends and new friends please pay my old profile a visit. I am in the process of transferring rewritten work over, in case any of you cared.

And on to the story, what'd you all think? I've always wanted to do a story on the seven iron comment, and voila. I was pondering adding a few more chapters about the pair of them discussing this later, like Paris, and then when Jenny's the director. If you guys want me to continue, I will. If not, I probably still will.

Please leave a review, it'll really make my week/ month/ year/ decade/ life/ existence. And plus, I did this with a sprained thumb. I never realized how much you actually need your thumb. It's sorta weird.

Moving on, goodnight/ morning/ afternoon.

hoagie