A/N: Freaky title, right?! Especially since the last story that I wrote for this (now to be) trilogy was smut! Now, again I've got no clue if this will be smut or not. Since I'm fairly confident that I could write another smut story based on the reviews from Dear Jenny. It's really just going to depend on whether or not the story allows/calls for it.
Plus, I'm writing this A/N on the day (like I just did this a hour ago) I finished OPERATION: Break the Tension. So, if you haven't yet go check that out. Even though this story probably won't be punished for about another month.
The italics in the first part or so are the voicemails from SecNav. Sorry, if it gets confusing.
DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN IT
WARNINGS: THE USUAL APPLIES. I DO USE CUSS WORDS AND IF ITS SMUT I'LL LABEL IT M
She just sat there, on a rickety old bed that sags in the middle, but had proven to be much more sturdier than it looked the past week. Staring at her blackberry that Jethro had managed to convince her (of course with his persuasions methods it hadn't been too hard) to turn off as soon as she arrived. Her heart felt like lead. Because staring back at her from the screen were the words...
3 missed calls from Tony 14 missed texts, 22 missed calls from Ducky, 12 missed calls from Ziva 59 missed texts, 1 missed call from Agent McGee, 27 missed calls from Cynthia 74 missed texts, 32 missed calls from Abby 134 missed texts
'Does the world fall apart the moment I'm out of reach,' she thoughtand that isn't what bothers her. What bothers her is the fact that her voice inbox seemed to be completely reserved for one person...
10 unread voicemails from SecNav
As her finger pressed play, somehow she just couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't ending well.
Later while she's pacing in the cozy little room Jethro and herself had claimed as their (even after a week with the man, she still can't get over the fact that they're a their again) own. With her arms held over her head and her fingers entangled in her curls, trying valiantly to stave off a panic attack. She wondered idly when Jethro was going to be back.
'Monday. 9/24. 8:34 a.m: Jennifer, your secretary Cynthia called my assistant frantic and in tears. I think it's slightly ridiculous considering that the only reason to worry is because you're usually in the office at 0600 on the dot. There's no need to worry, I told her not to send out the guard after you, if you simply slept in late. Treat yourself, take the day off. It's already been approved by me. Just please, call me Jennifer so that we know that you are safe, you have my secure cell number so you won't have to go through my assistant. By the way, I heard about Agent Gibbs.'
Exactly seven days ago she'd ran out of his house without even a suitcase (for fear of missing her flight), only to be met by the sight of her town car and security detail parked on the street in front of Jethro's house. At the time she'd been too flustered to do anything other than command that they take her to Dulles no questions asked. Now, looking back on it, her cheeks heated up at the remembrance of her mussed hair, Gibbs shirt, and the fact that she reeked of sex. She made a mental reminder to update that confidentiality clause in the contract that all agents on her permanent detail had to sign.
'Monday. 9/24. 12:19 p.m: I'm- confused, Jennifer. Ms. Summer claims that she had a message from you saying something along the lines of you running off somewhere? That you'll be back later? I understand that sometimes stress can get to people and they need a break. You're relatively new to the Director's chair and not quite used to everything yet. Just call us Jennifer so that we know that you are okay. You have so much unused vacation time, we can get you all set up for a vacation! Again, I'm sorry about Agent Gibbs. I know you two were partners years ago.'
Her security detail hadn't taken to kindly, to the not ask questions rule. Especially when she prohibited them from accompanying her to the plane. She can't help the humorless chuckle that escapes when the images of her agents when she told them she was going solo on this one, popped up. They had been furious and terrified at the idea of her going off alone, but eventually their loyalty to her took precedence and she shouldn't have had to worry about either of them breathing a word until at least Wednesday.
'Monday. 9/24. 11:48 p.m: Jennifer, please call.'
The plane ride had been excruciatingly long while she was actually on it, but quite short looking back on it. Pulling into the low building Baja called an airport, Jenny had felt like she was going to throw up. Thoughts were assaulting her; ones like,'What if he hadn't meant it,' and,' What if he regrets it?' All of those thoughts went away the moment she saw him leaning against a wall in the less than crowded airport.
'Tuesday. 9/25. 9:36 a.m: Jennifer, I get needing a break every now and again. But, you are a Federal Head now. You can not just disappear off the face of the planet. If you have not called in by noon tomorrow. I'm afraid I will have to send the troops out after you. For your own safety.'
It had been far from a movie moment. There had been no running through the crowds. No, jumping on him and kissing in the middle of everyone. Nothing like that. Instead never breaking eye contact they'd moved across the room, meeting in the middle. That was where they'd put their own spin on things.
'Tuesday. 9/25. 3:54 p.m: Please Jennifer, your agents are worried. Especially the MCRT? They have the idea that this is all tied to Agent Gibbs' leaving? Please call.'
To be fair they were lucky for two things. One, that the little hallway they'd discovered leading to the only restrooms in the place had been deserted. And two, that they'd made it that far in the first place had been a miracle in itself. Oh yes, because everything after that had been a blur of Jethro's lips, and the sound of the ladies room doors' protesting hinges. It was only after they were back in the truck he'd procured, that she'd realized she was missing her panties.
'Wednesday. 9/26. 7:09 a.m: Care to explain to me why your security detail looks about to burst? What do you have them hiding for you Jennifer? Trust me, whatever it is I will find out.'
It was a short car ride full with wondering hands, and Jethro having to swerve to avoiding running off the road more than once. Eventually they'd made it in one piece. To a quaint little (beach cabin?) with a porch that held a sleeping man in a hammock. She couldn't tell who the hairy lump was, though to be fair she hadn't been paying too much attention, until the sound of the engine apparently woke him up. With some squinting she'd realized it was Mike Franks.
'Wednesday. 9/26 10:00 p.m: The airport Jennifer? Why the HELL did you need to go to an AIRPORT?! Do you not realize that you cannot just run off on a whim!? Where did you go Jennifer?...You know somehow this whole situation smells faintly of Agent Gibbs. And I will find out. I've sent out some agents that I know that can be discreet. Though somehow I have this funny feeling that if you and Agent Gibbs don't want to be found, you won't be...Call me Jennifer.'
Though she'd protested against it, with a cheeky smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes Mike had thrown a duffle bag in the truck and taken off. Insisting that he had someone to stay with for a few weeks so they could have the house to themselves. Jenny flushed, remembering just how Gibbs had convinced her not to protest too violently.
'Thursday. 9/27 8:18 a.m: Jennifer, I thought you were smarter than this. You are the first female director of an armed federal agency, and the youngest. Why, would you jeopardize everything after you've finally achieved everything you've been working for... Jennifer, you need to call me.'
The past seven days had been full of sex. Sex on that rickety old bed, sex on the kitchen table, sex in the ocean, sex on the sandy beach. Once they'd even had sex in a little cove made by the craggy rocks that haphazardly lined the shore, the sun baked rock had warmed her back. Even though each and every time with him was great, everyday was like a day in Paris all over again, it wasn't the passion filled days that made her so...happy. It was the little things.
'Thursday. 9/27 11:39 p.m: Seven days. I left you alone Saturday and Sunday, but for the past five days I have wondered where you were. Not only me, but the people who care about you also. You cannot just disappear! Are you abandoning everything you've worked for?! Do you realize that could be the very real consequences for you? I'm not going to wait and leave voicemails forever. You need to call me Jennifer.'
It was the way they moved around the kitchen together, making dinner. The way they got dressed together in the morning (even though the clothing never stayed on long, and the fact that she'd been wearing some of his clothes). The way he held her in his arms again every night, sweaty and sated after they'd gotten their temporarily fill of each other. It made her so very happy, but it also made her long for something more. And that scared her.
'Friday. 9/28 7:23 a.m: I'm tired of this. I'm tired of trying to be nice. I've given you options. I've given you chances to call me and set up a vacation. Cleary you don't have your head on straight right now Jennifer. And maybe...well...this is your final chance. If you are not sitting in my office 8:00 a.m Monday morning, Jennifer you can say goodbye to the Director's chair. I'm disappointed that it's come this far, and if you want to grasp your last chance at saving your career...You have until Monday. I hope to see you there.'
It was as if she were listening to the voicemails all over again. The raspy voice of her boss filtering through an insignificant piece of plastic, telling her how it was going to be. Threatening her. Sending everything she'd built the last week, every inadvertent thought for a golden future, crashing and burning. Scattering her newfound happiness to the four corners of the Earth, and sending her mind in jumbled mess of confusion.
It always seemed to come down to this: Jethro or the job. Just thinking about it sent her stomach in knots, her knees turned to jelly, and her heart dropped like a rock. Slowly, she sank down on the bed again.
Suddenly she wasn't so eager for Jethro to get home anymore.
"Jen. I'm back," she heard him before she saw him. His quiet footsteps on the front porch, and the slamming of the screen door. Looking up from staring despondently at the ground, she saw him awkwardly trying to juggle his many grocery bags to the counter.
Yet she couldn't bring herself to move and help him.
When he finally managed to deposit all of the paper bags safely at their destination, concerned by her lack of response, he turned around searching for her. He could just barely make her out in the bedroom, the ajar door only allowed him to see half of her face. But, it was enough to see the almost...robotic expression on her face.
His blood ran cold, and a feeling of numbness spread throughout his body. Apparently it showed, and though her expression never changed, her eyes told a different story. It was like she was trying to say sorry, and it was an expression that he recognized from (though he didn't know it then) their last week together.
This past week could've been something out of a dream for him. Heck, it was almost like it was. He hadn't thought about Shan-...
'Don't go there,' he reminded himself.
The look of trepidation in Jenny's eyes was sending him there. If he didn't unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth soon, and ask her what the hell was wrong. He was just going to keep sending his mind in circles.
He took a step forward.
She rose from the bed.
They met in the doorway, his hand went out and gently pushed the door all the way open. Her face revealing itself to him fully, and what she was holding in her right hand.
'Her cellphone?' The dread eased a bit, after all how bad could something on a cellphone be? But, Jenny wasn't prone to overreacting so it had to be something at least. Otherwise her knuckles wouldn't be turning white, or whiter.
She raised her arm (stiff and unyielding), unfurling her fingers she showed him a better view of the phone, offering it to him. Before he took it, they locked eyes, holding her gaze he swiped the cell off her palm. His tan hand engulfing the tiny piece of plastic.
He cocked his head to the side, questioning her. Hoping she would clear something up.
Instead she just croaked,"Voicemails."
She swept past him and he flipped open the top, her mailbox was full and he knew enough about technology to know what that meant. Pressing play he pressed the phone to his ear, hearing the first strains of (SecNav's?) voice filtering through. He glanced back over his shoulder, Jenny was standing over at the counter, her hands flitting uselessly over the bags. Her shoulders were shaking with repressed emotions.
Facing forward again, a shiver ran down his spine.
He didn't see his future looking any better than his past.
Her hands fluttered over the paper bags. Intending to put the groceries away and at least look busy while he was listening to the...messages, she had moved over to the counter. It also helped to put some distance between herself and Jethro, and it just so happen to give her an excuse to turn her back to him.
She didn't think she could bare to see his reaction.
It didn't help matters that her heart was beating like she'd just ran a marathon. Or, the fact that there was a hollow pit in the bottom of her stomach that was making her nauseous.
After what felt like forever of simply dawdling, and still not hearing a peep out of Jethro but being too afraid to look over her shoulder at him. Jenny finally picked up the first thing that caught her eye, a carton of eggs.
She was doing fine, perfectly fine, and was all prepared to cross the kitchen to the simplistic refrigerator Mike had. Until she heard his quick steps coming towards her. She froze in her tracks, not even a foot away from the counter, he had to be angry...
'Usually he's silent as a church mouse,' she thought nervously. If he was letting himself be heard, let alone be that loud...She glanced over to the bedroom door, that had at some point been shut, just as it burst open and Jethro basically came running out.
Not that she really expected to be able too, but she couldn't tell a damn thing from his expression. For all she knew the man could be a robot with how much emotion he showed.
'But this week he'd been so...happy,' and even if they hadn't spoke a word about the situation. Even if she didn't know how she felt about this or what she wanted, she felt that pit in her stomach become bigger. Emptier, a sense of dread over taking the joy she'd felt the past week.
He didn't even spare her a passing glance before striding over to the cabinets opposite the bedroom. The cabinets that she'd found out held a few different odds-and-ends, knick-knacks, and basically junk. Her brow furrowed, if he was angry she expected him to simply confront her. After all Jethro was never one to beat around the bush. And if he was...(sad?) she expected him to avoid her.
But going to the junk drawer?
"Jethro, what are you doing?" Her voice came out in a croak. He didn't even turn from his task, throwing things every which way as he dug for something.
"Looking for the phone book." He grunted, his head still in the cupboard and out of her line of her sight. Though the fact that he'd answered her cheered her slightly, she still didn't feel any better. Nothing was cleared up for her, instead she was flooded with even more confusion.
'What the hell does he need a phone book for?' she wondered.
Though she would like to say that what she said next was angry and demanding, it wasn't. She would like to say that she was cool, calm, and collected, she couldn't. She would like to say that she didn't care how this was going to end, but she did.
"Um, Jethro...why do you need a phonebook?" Her voice was husky, frail, and close to breaking. But, she held her breath and tried waiting calmly for his answer.
"To find the airport's number," he replied, as he made a grunt of satisfaction and he brought himself out of the cabinet, a worn phonebook in his hands. Still not looking at her (which was really adding to her reasons for worrying) he moved over to the opposite side of the counter and plopped the phonebook down, a cloud of dust flying up in response.
In the process of trying to follow his movements she'd ended up doing a complete 360, and ending up facing the bags of groceries again. The eggs, of course, were still clutched comically in her hands.
Now, she stood back where she started. Desperately trying not to let herself start hoping, but she couldn't help the fact that a small amount of relief etched into her at his words. He was going to call the airport, and book them a flight home. Everything was going to be okay... But, he still looked emotionless, and angry all at once? However that was possible...
"Okay. Okay," she said nervously, nodding her head along with her words as if emphasizing her point. "I'll go get your suitcase packed," she turned on her heel, moving towards the bedroom quickly and forgetting that the eggs were still in her hands.
"Don't bother," she'd made it to the doorway again before he spoke, freezing her in her tracks. That sweet, sweet, relief she'd felt left her body in a split-second, leaving her reeling from the sudden withdrawal.
She couldn't force herself to turn around, to look him in the eye. Her eyes pricked embarrassingly, with...(scared?) tears? What was he about to say? Maybe he just wanted to leave his clothes here?
"Wh-hy would you want to leaves your clothes here, Jethro?" She asked timidly, she didn't know if she wanted the answer to this...
"I'm not leaving my clothes," he spoke evenly his voice, like his face, devoid of any distinguishable emotion. Still she kept her back facing him when she spoke again, confusion evident, "then why don't you want me to go back your suitcase?"
"Because I won't be needing it. I'm not going anywhere," the words, she heard them but they didn't sink in. It was as if her brain was fogged, clouded with whatever foreign emotion she was experiencing, and his words were on the outside. Unable to penetrate their meaning.
"Then-the...Um, what's with the- why the? Why are you calling the airport?" She breathed, questioning...everything. She just couldn't comprehend.
"To book your flight. After all, you'll be needing one. Won't you?" He demanded. Though she couldn't see him, she could sense him moving away from the counter. Standing behind her, waiting for her answer.
Unable to resist, she spun around quaking with withheld emotions. Yes, of course-maybe, she would be needing one. But, wouldn't he? Why wouldn't he be needing one? What was he trying to say about her needing one?
"Wha-t-t the hell?!" she managed to stutter out. Yet, he still stood there. One hand slung in the side pocket of his cargo shorts, and the other clutching her cell phone tightly. His eyebrow was cocked as if to say, 'What is there to explain?'. She hadn't seen this side of Jethro since before the explosion.
The shiver that ran through her was one fear, the memory of Jethro lying prone in a hospital bed never failed to do that to her. Vaguely, she wondered what happened to the confident Jenny that had butted heads with him her first day on as Director. When did she become this emotional around him again? But, then she remembered that Jethro had almost died...less than two weeks ago (it seemed like a lifetime ago), and that an injured Jethro never failed to do this to her.
This jolted her enough to make her shake herself out of her self pitying mood. When Jethro got in moods like this, it was like he could smell weakness. Well...if she could figure out what exact mood he was in. Or, at least what he was thinking because clearly he had an idea and was running with it.
'Find out what Jethro's thinking' easier said than done.
As subtly as possible, she went to look in his eyes. His cobalt blues. Her heart jumped a mile a minute in something other than fear, an emotion she was quite acquainted from this week and something from years spent with Jethro, lust.
'Back on track Jenny,' a voice that sounded suspiciously like Ziva's whispered in her ear. She couldn't get distracted from everything just to fuck Jethro and have to deal with it all again afterwards.
Other people looked at Jethro and his eyes and saw ice, but she- she never saw just ice. Other people commended her for 'being able to read' Jethro like a book, but what they didn't realize, or just didn't take the time to realize, was that it was all through the eyes.
Everything Jethro tried to hide from people, behind a sheen of ice, was in his eyes.
Now, she could see the mixed conflicts there. The anger, worry, and fear there. It was as if the sun had filtered through the clouds and shined on her, that a cartoon lightbulb had just appeared over her head, or that a choir of angels were singing. But, simultaneously it was as if her worst nightmare had come true, that the apocalypse was coming, or that the floor had dropped out from under her and sent her straight into hell. Because...Jethro was scared, and she knew he'd rather die than admit it.
"Why, would I be needing a flight?" she'd meant to say it loudly, but it came out as a whisper. Either way, her carefully chosen words were clearly the wrong thing to say. Considering it was practically like steam was billowing out of his ears when Jethro replied.
"Because you're going again, aren't you?! After all your job is in a dangerous position right now! Gotta go back to please SecNav, right?!" he roared. With those words every shred of confidence, shard of strength, and wisps of determination left her. The whole little boosting speech she'd given herself dissolved into nothingness. Because, right now, Jethro was doing what he was oh so good at, he was making her confront something she'd didn't want to face.
After she'd finished listening to her boss's threats, she'd undergone a rollercoaster of emotions. But, her mind had stayed curiously numb with something she refused to acknowledge. Something that had stayed with her whether she were soaring with happiness, or shaking with fear. It was a little poisonous worm that had wedged itself inside her heart and had refused to be dislodged.
It was the fact that she'd honestly never thought about not going back.
But, it infuriated her that Jethro had automatically jumped to conclusions like this.
"Oh c'mon Jethro, it wasn't like we could stay here forever! We had to go back sometime! So what if we have to back a little early?!" she'd practically screeched at him, demanding an answer in just of demanding way as Jethro had earlier.
"Goddammit Jenny! What do you not realize about the fact that I'M NOT GOING BACK!" he screamed, his brass timber echoing off the walls of the beach cottage.
Yea, if a man were to know her emotions she'd probably be accused of PMSing or something equally as sexist. But, her emotions were in for the long haul in every fight with Jethro, something that she'd been well aware of for years now, but was being reminded of now.
She didn't want to take the time to analyze what she was feeling, all she knew was that she'd forgotten that she was still holding the eggs until she heard the sound of breaking eggshells as a dozen of them hit the kitchen tiles. Her hands were trembling uncontrollably, and her brain was far past the point of processing thoughts when she'd managed to choke out, "But, we have to go back Jethro. I mean my-my...job. You're calling the airline."
"Ha," he let out a bitter, defeated laugh, "So you're still choosing the job," he whispered the last part.
"Oh God, Jethro, that's not fair and you know it," she croaked out, those tears of (whatever) pricking more harshly behind her eyelids.
"How's it not fair, Jenny? You're going back aren't you?" he asked again in what Jenny secretly dubbed his 'robo' voice. Emotionless and distant to the end...
She thought about the things that Jethro still didn't know, about La Grenouille. About her father. She thought about all she'd given up for her position, about how it was the reason she'd given up Jethro in the first place...
She thought about the voice mail her boss had left on her phone, giving her an ultimatum.
About all she'd done to get here, to Director.
She couldn't let it all go to waste.
'But,' that little voice in her ear whispered, 'Would it really be such a waste. After all you'd get your happily ever after.'
Did happily ever after's really exist with her and Jethro?
The beating of her heart was so loud it seemed like the sound was echoing off the tile floors back in her ears. Vaguely she thought about a poem by Poe that she'd read in school the... Tell Tale Heart? Or, something like that...
Her eyes locked with his and behind the iron walls he used to guard himself she could see sadness. Now that she thought on it, sadness seemed to be ever-present with Jethro. Sadness from his past, the people he'd lost, sadness for her.
Her tale tell heart had given her away, he knew her choice.
"Yes," she whispered hoarsely.
"Yea," he hissed, his eyes narrowing, "I figured."
In a move that seemed so dismissive it made her chest hurt, he turned back around and continued flipping violently through the phone book. Looking for the number to book her flight, the flight she'd take alone.
"Come with me Jethro," she started to plead before she could stop herself. Stepping forward she bypassed the mess of raw eggs on the floor, and reached out with a tentative hand to touch his arm.
His muscles were clenched so tightly under her hand.
"No," he growled softly, not even bothering to look at her!
Why? Why, wouldn't he come back with her? He had a life there in D.C. There were people who needed him in D.C! He had a team that needed a leader, Ducky who needed a friend and a son, Abby who needed the strength and safety of a man she thought of as a father, McGee who needed someone who would tell him that he could do it, Ziva who needed someone that she could respect and who had been through at least half of what she'd gone through, Tony who needed the guiding hand of a mentor.
'And you?'
She didn't know what she needed, and that was the problem.
"Why Jethro?" she wailed softly, desperate to understand something about this man. This man that she thought she had known so well. This man that she had found out had a whole past, one she didn't know about.
"Because Jenny," he yelled in frustration, slamming his hand down on the counter before spinning around to face her. "How can you expect me to go back to a life I don't even remember?" his face was right in hers, causing her to take step back.
"That's not my life! Apparently I'm suppose to be a Federal Agent?! HA," he scoffed viciously, before continuing.
"I'M A GUNNERY SARGENT IN THE MARINE CORPS!" he screamed, his left arm thrown out wide at his side making his point. Involuntarily she took another step back, the bottom of her bare foot felt something slippery as she accidently stepped in the mess of egg, but she didn't care. She didn't think she'd ever actually heard Jethro yell in anger before, usually he just got quiet, deadly quiet.
"Don't yell at me Jethro," she spoke calmly, though she was far from calm.
She didn't have to wonder on how she'd manage to defuse the situation for long, because a shadow passed over Jethro's face. And it was like he just...deflated.
His head drooping, staring at his feet he said, "Or at least that's what I remember being."
"Jethro," her voice was back at that annoying whisper, but she knew it was all she could manage for what she was about to ask.
"Where do I fit into this?"
She thought he'd been remembering. She thought by the time she'd have to go back, that he would be ready to go back too. She thought this was a second chance for them, thought that he was thinking it too. She thought he remembered her and their past together, something more substantial than just her, the coat, and the letter.
Had she just been some fuck buddy?
"Do you remember anything about me? Something other than what happened on that DAMN AIRPLANE?!" She'd started out speaking calmly, angry, but calmly. And gradually her voice had risen in pitch with her anger until she was unintentionally in his face screaming it at him.
For the moment he seemed frozen, his mouth hanging open in a ridiculous way. She would have laughed at him, teased him, if she hadn't been so damn pissed at him and...hurt.
But, the moment was over and he opened his mouth. Jenny's blood was boiling, in preparation for what he was about to say.
"Of course I remember more about you Jenny! Do you think I would just have sex all over fucking Mexico with someone I didn't know?!" She opened her mouth for an angry retort, but he cut her off.
"But, you're asking me to go back to a life I don't remember for your JOB! The job that's turned you INTO A HEARTLESS BITCH!" he'd yelled the last part unthinkingly, but immediately regretted it when he saw the anger in her eyes die down a little. To be replaced by a deep hurt.
He had the weirdest urge to slap himself on the back of the head. But, what he'd said, in his 'pre-coma' memories at least, had been true. That goddamn job was no good for her.
It still didn't mean he wanted to hurt her.
"So you think I'm a heartless bitch, hmmmmm?," she managed to choke out sarcastically. The burning in her eyes had gotten substantially worse and her eyes had actually started to water by now.
God, she hoped she didn't cry.
"Sometimes," he whispered, his lips pursed he shrugged one shoulder in a 'well that's the truth' way.
"Not all the time," he added in a slightly more caring tone. Well, it was the truth even if he was slightly amnesic he remembered enough to know that he didn't think she was always a heartless bitch.
That didn't seem to matter much to her though.
When he'd saw her emerald eyes start to tear up, in anger or sorrow he didn't know, he continued. Even if it was the cowards way out he didn't look at her, he didn't think he could stand it if he saw her cry.
"Why would I want to go back to something that's not mine? Well," he trailed off gaining steam, he'd just thought of something else.
"I don't remember everything about my 'life', hell I don't remember much about anything of my life! But, I do remember pretty much of what this job of being a 'Federal Agent' entails." his eyes narrowed again, and he took a step forward grabbing her shoulders. He bent to her height so she could look him in the face when he spoke again.
"I did some pretty gruesome things as a sniper in the Core. But, I remember every person I killed, and guess what Jenny?" he asked her sarcastically, his face turning furious once again. She cringed in his tightened hold, she knew what was coming and she also knew that she wasn't going to want to hear it.
"Most of them, the majority of them," he amended, "were done during my time as a federal agent." He'd hissed the words 'federal agent' meanly, sarcastically, mockingly as if he were ruining the perfect image she'd had of her job, and by extension her world.
And in a way, he was.
'This isn't Jethro,' she told herself. This wasn't the man who lived for his job, and who lived for helping people.
He couldn't be.
'No,' she thought, 'this was a man who was having to relearn everything. Having to relearn everything from his own life. Having to relive what was most likely the worst tragedy he'd ever experienced.'
The death of the wife and child she didn't know about.
Once again proving that he could in fact read her mind. Jethro spun around putting his back to her and facing the phone book once again, before saying, "Besides. How can I- how am I suppose to go back? When it feels like...they died...just yesterday. It was...fifteen years ago, Jenny," he moaned the last part in disbelief, half pleading with her to tell him that he was wrong. That it hadn't been years ago- before they'd even met, that the woman who was probably the love of his life and his baby girl had died. She wished she could tell him he was wrong, but he wasn't so she couldn't.
It was then that she had an epiphany.
This man, the one standing with his back to her, wasn't Jethro. Or, at least not her Jethro.
This man was-had been a family man, still was. This man was hoping a beautiful redhead with an eight year old in her arms would come running through that door at any moment. To hug him tightly, and say that this was all a joke. Everything he'd experienced in the last two weeks had just been some prank of epic proportions.
And for the last week he'd been trying, desperately trying, to be her Jethro.
Earlier when she'd incredulously wondered how he could not want to go back. She'd thought about his team, his job. She'd thought about the side of his life that was nice to look at, the side that you could see if you didn't look or think too deeply about it. The side that didn't make even the coldest of hearts throb, and tears spring to anyone's eyes.
The side that was nice to look at, the pretty, light side.
But, she'd always known Jethro had darkness in him. Even if she didn't want to look too deeply at it or question it too badly, she'd always known.
So why would he want to go back?
Back to his job? Ha, Jethro was damn good at being a federal agent. The only problem was that people knew it. It was the reason why he was first choice when a dicey mission got put on the table. It was the reason why when the legality or morality of things were questioned on a specific OP it was Jethro who was sent in to complete it. It was the reason why he'd killed so many people.
It was the reason why they'd been in Paris so many years ago.
So why would he want to go back? For the job? No. For his team? The people he didn't even remember? Not, even bringing his right-hand man back from Baltimore. For someone special? As far as she knew, there was no one particularly special in Jethro's life. At least no one had been at the hospital to the extent of her knowledge, of course that could've been due to extensive threatening from Abby or DiNozzo if either or both of them didn't like her. Still, she knew a bit about how Jethro's love life went.
He didn't commit to serious very well.
Still, the job, his team, someone special. None of those were anything to pull Jethro back. For his house? The beautiful house that was empty, except for the bare essentials? He didn't use anything other than the basement anyway. And if she guessed correctly, that house hadn't been a home to him in fifteen years.
'There was nothing for him to come back for,' she thought dejectedly.
The furious beating of her heart stilled. It sunk like ice in her chest.
The nervous trembling of her hands died down.
She reached out and put one hand on his large, broad, expansive back. She stepped forward and standing on tiptoes slightly, she rested her forehead on his shoulder, and he let her.
"Your not coming," she whispered brokenly.
"Just go Jenny," he murmured back.
She'd come to Mexico without a scrap of anything. They'd been too busy fucking on any available surface to go shopping for anything anyway.
Leaving her cellphone with him, she walked to the door still in his clothes, only stopping to pick up her sandals.
She walked out onto the porch, blinking in the bright sun, but not stopping. Instead continuing off the porch and taking off down the beach.
All the while holding back tears and telling herself not to turn back, for the second time she left him.
And he didn't stop her.
Later that night, if Jethro had gone outside, he might have seen a plane flying overhead.
He might've seen the moon illuminating a redheaded woman leaning against the window.
But he hadn't.
So he didn't see her flying away on a practically empty plane.
He also didn't see the light of the moon catching on the tears that slid down her pale cheeks.
Ok. Sorry it took so long. I PROMISE this is not the last chapter, and that THERE WILL BE SMUT in the second chapter. I APOLOGIZE IF IT WAS CONFUSING
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