Author's Note:
Once upon a time I decided to write the backstory for Jenny and Gibbs. It went through several name changes (Osculation, Sub Rosa, and finally Scenes From A Relationship) but ultimately came to a complete standstill courtesy of one of life's curveballs. I have neither the heart nor the mental space to pick up where I left off and finish it – much as I would like to (apologies, ltjvt1026) – but I have decided to tweak those parts of the story that can stand alone and repost them.
I'd like to dedicate them to AC22 – with thanks for a very touching message in February 2012.
Per Abby (High Seas, Season One), Stan Burley joined Gibbs' team in 1997 and left somewhere between 2000 and 2001, when he was replaced by Tony. Since Jenny was on Gibbs' team before going to Europe in mid-1998 (based on little clues in Kill Ari, Season Three), the two would have worked together. It seems likely that Christopher Pacci (UnSealed / Dead Man Talking, Season Two) was on the original team as well.
NCIS Headquarters
May 1998
"I got here soon as I could," Ducky said he pushed his hat into Burley's chest and effectively moved him out of his path. "Where is she?"
"Interrogation two."
"And where's the other one?"
"If by the other one you mean Gibbs, he's not here."
"The correct answer would entail you telling me his current location," the medical examiner said drily.
"I don't know. The Director came in, Gibbs went up to his office. Three hours ago. That was the last we saw of -"
"Did you try to call him?"
"Don't have a death wish, Ducky."
"What took you so long to call me?"
"She didn't want me to call you at all."
Ducky rolled his eyes.
"Has she been treated for shock?"
"Yeah," Burley replied gruffly.
He wasn't about to divulge that Jen had only started to shake at her desk the moment Gibbs was no longer watching her. Or that Pacci had taken care of her while he'd made quick work of her reports.
"How's she doing now?"
Burley shrugged. "She isn't saying much. You'd better take a look."
"Yes."
Jenny shot Burley a death glare as the men entered the room, but he simply stuck his tongue out and placed a bottle of water in front of her.
"I'm fine, Ducky," she said with a smile.
"I'll be the judge of that," he said.
Frowning as something caught his eye.
Jenny cringed slightly as he reached out, but stood her ground as he angled her jaw towards the light. She watched his eyes become troubled as he assimilated the implications of the burn on her temple, and looked away.
"Does it hurt?" he asked carefully as he treated her skin.
"Not as much as it did earlier."
Ducky nodded as he continued to check her out.
"I want you to go home and get some rest," he said when he was satisfied.
"I'll take her," Burley said as he dropped a hand on the back of her chair.
"Make sure you stay with her," Ducky cautioned. "And call me if you need anything."
"Got it," Burley said as he followed her out the door.
Ducky exhaled slowly as he looked round at Pacci.
"What happened out there, Chris?"
Pacci sat on the chair Jenny had vacated, and dropped his elbows onto the table.
"I wouldn't have been able to take the shot," he said as he ran a hand across his face. "And she .. God, she didn't even flinch. I don't know what the hell must have been running through her mind when she saw Gibbs raise his gun, but she didn't -"
Ducky reached across and patted him on the arm.
"She trusted him to do his job."
Pacci pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Yeah. But we came that close to losing her."
"But you didn't. So let's focus on that, shall we?" Ducky said as he started to put his things back into his bag. "Is there any word on whether there's going to be an internal investigation?"
Pacci shrugged.
"Inevitable, isn't it?"
"I suppose."
"Ducky," Chris said after a moment's silence, "got anything strong in autopsy?"
"For you, always. I should really look in on our newest houseguest while I'm here too."
Pacci followed him to autopsy, and chuckled as the medical examiner pulled a bottle and two tumblers from a desk drawer.
"That's where you keep your stash, huh?" he asked.
"Would you care to do the honours?" Ducky asked as he handed the whisky bottle over and picked up a clipboard from one of the metal tables. "Now, who have we here? Peter Philip Marshall."
"That's him," Pacci said as he poured drinks.
"He served in Desert Storm," Ducky said as he flipped through the documents.
"What?"
"It says here he was First Battalion First Marine Regiment, Scout Sniper Platoon. That was Jethro's regiment."
Pacci's mind scrambled as he said, "If he knew him he didn't say anything."
"He wouldn't have."
"Everything happened so fast." Pacci smoothed the skin round his mouth as he spoke. "We weren't even supposed to be working this weekend."
"Not your case then?"
"We got called out as back up for Brandt's team." The worried look in the agent's eyes amplified as he set his glass firmly down on the desk. "One car?"
Ducky shook his head.
"We can cover more ground if we travel separately."
"I'll start with the watering holes close to the yard."
"I'll cover downtown."
Jenny's house, Georgetown
Jenny ran her finger round the rim of her glass. Wondering absently whether she'd like the psychiatrist that she'd undoubtedly have to see; how long she'd have to see him for; how long it would be before the nightmares started.
She tried to put herself in Gibbs' shoes and felt a wave of nausea break over her. Thoughts about him were far from comfortable right now. There was no doubt her admiration for him had skyrocketed in the past few hours, but with that admiration had come something else. Something she didn't want to give a name to, because she couldn't bear to think that she might become afraid of him. That she would freeze or shrink back every time she saw him pull out his gun.
He, on the other hand, hadn't second guessed himself for a moment. Or doubted his ability to take out the target. The bullet had grazed her before it found its mark but he'd paid her the courtesy of not drawing attention to it. In the moments after the shooting, when everyone had still been rooted in place, he'd reached out to steady her. And nodded sharply when he'd discovered that it wasn't going to be necessary. His hand had risen to her face briefly. Turning it pretty much as Ducky had done a few hours later.
"Get that looked at," was all he'd said before he knelt down at Marshall's side and checked him for a pulse.
That had been the extent of their interaction, but it had been intense. She'd worked with him long enough by now to recognise when he was suppressing strong emotion.
Despite the calm exterior his pupils had been dilated.
The fact that they didn't know where he was was unsettling too. It had been two hours since Pacci had called to tell Burley that he and Ducky were out looking for him, and the thought that they ought to be out there too wouldn't leave her. As if on cue a phone rang. Burley's. It was somewhere in the kitchen she remembered. She looked over at Stan. He'd fallen asleep about twenty minutes earlier. Finally giving her some time to herself. She considered waking him, and then decided that it was probably Pacci with an update, and that she could take the call herself.
At least one of them was getting some rest, she thought wryly as she found the phone on one of her countertops.
"Anything?" she asked as she picked up.
Relief sluiced through her as she heard Pacci say that he'd tracked him down to a bar just outside Alexandria they sometimes went to. That he'd had one drink with him before Gibbs told him in no uncertain terms to be on his way. She could sense there was something he was leaving out, and she wondered briefly whether he would have told Burley.
"Are you going home?" she asked instead.
"Unless Burley needs me to take over."
Jenny snorted.
"I don't need another babysitter."
"But he's staying over?"
"Yes."
"Okay. I'll see you Monday. Get some rest, Jenny. He's fine."
She smiled as she put the phone back on the countertop; not for the first time wondering what he saw. Or what he thought he saw. Her smile dimmed as her thoughts spiralled back to Gibbs - her mind on what Pacci hadn't said.
She wasn't fine.
It was impossible that Gibbs was either. Not when he'd killed a man and run the risk of taking out a member of his own team in the process. The realization that she needed to see him for herself seeped into her system as she walked back towards the study.
Stan's soft snoring echoed round the room. She considered taking his car, because hers was still at the yard, and then decided against it.
She called a cab instead.
A bar outside Alexandria, VA
"Storm's getting worse."
Gibbs nodded as the bartender filled his glass. He'd stopped counting the moment Pacci had gone. He'd considered going home to work on his boat. Briefly. It had seemed a waste to sand good wood into oblivion, and infinitely more reasonable to plan on sleeping off a stupor the next day.
Peter Philip Marshall.
He'd hardly recognised a man he'd trusted to watch his back in Kuwait. Familiar feelings of guilt choked him, and the day's events weren't enough of a blur for him to hide behind.
Yet.
Bile rose in his throat as he replayed the blinding moment in which he'd realised the way things were going to end. He couldn't account for why Marshall had gone for Jenny, but the challenge in his demeanour had been clear.
He'd wanted out. Out of the situation and out of existence.
"What's it gonna be?"
One dead body or two. He had recognised the signs of man perfectly capable of killing a hostage and then turning the gun on himself. And he'd known Gibbs wouldn't miss.
His mind drifted over the moment of impact, and on to the moment when he'd reached for Jenny. He'd wanted to place a hand on her shoulder and squeeze tightly. As much for his benefit as for hers, perhaps. But she'd been so tightly wound that he'd been afraid she'd break the moment he touched her, and he didn't want to do that to her. Not in front of another team. He could only hope she knew that she'd never stood a chance against a man who'd spent years of his life as a recon specialist; that it hadn't been a probie mistake that had landed them in the situation; that he'd been proud of the way she'd responded to the briefest of eye contact between them; and of the way she'd anticipated.
"Feeling as lonely as you look?"
He looked up to find a slip of a girl sitting on the bar stool next to him.
The only thing he registered about her was her cloying perfume, and that it was making him feel nauseous. For a moment he wanted to be surrounded by something else. Something soothing like the body lotion long gone Stephanie used to use.
"Are you in there?"
He looked once again at the young body next to him and gauged that she couldn't be a day over sixteen despite the heels and all the make up she had on. If she'd been in her thirties or older then he would have been tempted; because losing himself in a warm willing body would have been a welcome distraction right about now. But from the girly sounds coming from a nearby table he was pretty sure he was meant to be a notch on someone's bedpost.
The girl tried again.
"How about -"
She jumped slightly as a loud clap of thunder rattled the windows, and scuttled back to her table.
"Crazy broad," the bartender muttered in the background. He refilled a patron's glass before raising his voice and saying, "Hey! Any one of you guys had a fight with your significant other tonight? Coz she's been standing outside in the rain for the past half an hour. Don't want her getting struck by lightning on my lot, if ya follow my drift."
Murmurs of curiosity rippled round the bar as Gibbs pushed his glass to the back of the counter.
"Fill 'er up," he said.
"Last one, Jethro," the bartender said. "I'm closing up early. Storm's getting worse. Finish up and get yourself home."
Gibbs shot him a disgruntled look, drained his glass in one swallow, and dropped a few crumpled notes on the bar. He looked around the parking lot as he stumbled towards his pick up truck. Wondering who the crazy broad had belonged to after all.
There was no sign of her anywhere.
Lightning streaked across the sky. Blinding him and causing the keys to miss their mark. He swore as he bent down to retrieve them. Feeling the hard pelt of rain against the nape of his neck as he started to doubt his ability to get home in one piece. Another turbulent flash lit up the night, and his hand froze mid-turn when he realised who the reflection in his window belonged to.
She was shivering.
Soaked to the skin.
Hair and clothes plastered to her.
"Dammit Jenny," he said as he flung a door open and pulled out one of the blankets he used when transporting two by fours. As he wrapped it round her and rubbed her shoulders vigorously, the sky flickered again. Illuminating her face. The air literally crackled with the chemistry between them, and he was brushing a few strands of hair gently from her eyes before he was even aware that he was touching her.
It had always been Shepard. Jen, on occasion. But never Jenny. Coupled with the rasp of his fingers against her skin it sounded less familiar than when Pacci and Burley used it. More like a term of endearment somehow. She raised her arm. Wrapping her fingers around his and holding his palm against her cheek. Exploring the calluses on it when he rotated his hand in hers.
The gentle intensity was sending his alcohol-fuddled brain into overdrive.
Images of running his mouth up her throat crept into his consciousness. Followed in quick succession by things he knew he shouldn't be thinking about.
He watched as she aligned her palm with his; noticing for the first time how small her hands were.
And that's when it hit him.
The smell.
And with it the realization that it wasn't Stephanie who wore the body lotion he'd been remembering earlier. It was Jenny.
He closed his eyes. Mindful of the fact that the boundaries between them were rapidly blurring.
Jen opened her mouth to speak and realized she didn't know what to call him anymore.
Gibbs sounded harsh, Jethro too intimate.
He was like a beacon even in the pouring rain. Giving away a lot more than she suspected he was comfortable with. Mere seconds later he proved her right when his eyes shuttered - suddenly and inexplicably.
She was cut off from the brief glimpse into his soul in an instant.
Left reeling. Literally.
Gibbs pressed the keys to the truck into her hand, his eyes unreadable.
"Drive safely," he said as he turned on his heel and walked away.
Author's Note:
I have it on good authority that "as long as in grazing the hostage the bullet's path is not altered, you have one dead Tango".
Thank you, ltjvt1026.
I should add that it is my theory that Gibbs had dated Stephanie Flynn for a while before he started his relationship with Jenny. It was nothing serious at the time - but to my mind it's one of the reasons he married her so quickly when he got back from Europe.