A/N: This is for the lovely Iwait4theRain for another quince gift!
Jibbs, Jibbs, Europe, and more Jibbs. Enjoy! Song is "Academia" by Sia, from the album "Some People Have Real Problems".
You can be my alphabet and I will be your calculator
And together we'll work out on the escalator
I will time you as you run up and down
And you'll measure my footsteps as I blow through this town
Jen isn't starting to feel like such a probie anymore. She's certainly not afraid to stand up to me, as evidenced by this morning, when I took a sip of my coffee and tasted milk while she sat at her desk and chuckled. Or yesterday, when she threw a paper airplane at my head, just as I'd reached for my glasses. She certainly knows how to kick you when you're down.
But she's also turning out to be a damn good partner in the field. She's intuitive, picks up everything around her. She and I have started to gauge each other's strengths and weaknesses, have learned to cover for each other and ensure that neither one of us gets blatantly shot. She calms me down and keeps me from being a complete chauvinist, I keep her from being completely disobedient. Somehow, it works.
The mean of our heights is divided by the nights
Which is times'd by the daggers and the root of all our fights
The pass of your poem just to sway me in your knowing
And the beauty of your word is that you don't have to show it
Jenny is absolutely beautiful, graceful in everything she does. And with those eyes, those legs, and definitely that hair, she knows exactly what she does to me. Especially now that we're in Paris for an undercover mission. Ah, the City of Love has decided to play yet another cruel joke on Jethro Gibbs.
She's beautiful…but dangerous as hell. One thing's for sure, I will make sure never to be on the sharp end of one of her knives. She has a raging temper, a frantic pace of doing things, and it definitely riles me up. The bullpen back in Washington used to be riddled with the insults we threw back and forth. There's no way Tom Morrow isn't happy that we're not there to disrupt his "professional" setting.
Oh, academia, you can pick me up
Soothe me with your words when I need your love
I hate stakeouts.
But stakeouts mean Jen, and Jen means…
Mmmm.
I am a dash, and you are a dot
When will you see that I am all that you've got?
I'm a binary code that you cracked long ago
But to you I'm just a novel that you wish you never wrote
Damn it, Jenny!
She is the most cryptic woman I've ever met, even moreso than Diane. Still can't believe that Fornell married my ex-wife. Ah, well.
But Jenny, Jenny, Jenny. One minute we're sharing a bed and making love, the next we're doing something very "friend" – like, and the next, she's all business. Which is it going to be: A, B, C, or D (all of the above)? I didn't cross the line with her for it to turn out for nothing and for our partnership to be awkward.
I'm falling in love with her, but she's treating this as if it's nothing serious.
God, sometimes I really hate women and their mind games.
I'm greater than x and lesser than y,
So why is it that I still can't catch your eye?
You're a cryptic crossword, a song I've never heard
While I sit here drawing circles, I'm afraid of being hurt
Ever since Marseilles, things have been so… well. There's not exactly a way to describe it. Jenny has become very "Jennifer Sheppard, daughter of Colonel Sheppard, owner of a giant estate in Norfolk". In other words, damn great at her job, damn annoying to her partner.
It's her turn to sleep on this assignment. As she snores softly, I quickly sketch her likeness in my notebook as a token for myself. I want to remember her exactly the way she is here; innocent, sweet, loving, and totally unaware of how heartbreaking she is to other people. It'll certainly get me through the moments where I'd rather shoot her myself than take her into the field.
Oh, academia, you can pick me up
Soothe me with your words when I need your love
We're in Positano now. Maybe things will be different here. Maybe the awkwardness surrounding me and Jenny will finally lift and we'll figure something out. Maybe she'll actually act on what happened in Marseilles.
Yeah, okay, then. And maybe pigs will fly, too.
Oh, well. At least dinner in Italy is nice. We're at a beautiful place by the water, and Jenny seems to be enjoying herself almost as much as I am. It's a lighthearted setting, just me and Jen, as she playfully feeds me a spoonful of pasta (who knows or cares what kind it is? Not me!) and I offer her my glass of bourbon.
And then it happens. We walk out of the restaurant, hand in hand (for undercover purposes, naturally), when a motorcyclist speeds down the road and shoots me in the thigh.
You're a difficult equation with a knack for heart evasion
Will you listen to my proof or will you add another page on?
It appears to me the graph has come and stolen all the laughs
It appears to me the pen has overanalyzed again
"Jethro," she says to me as we rest in the apartment, tracing my arm lightly. "I don't know what I would've done if you… if you hadn't made it through surgery."
"You would have dealt with it, like you always do," I say, a little cold. "You're very good at compartmentalizing, Jen."
"Don't call me that," she grumbles. "And you know what? I'm not as cold-blooded as you seem to think I am. I nearly died waiting for the doctor to come out and tell me what was going on. You scared the hell out of me."
"You wouldn't do that for me," I say skeptically. "I'm a grumpy old guy who served in the Corps. Time runs out for us quickly. You know that."
She glares at me softly. "Get over yourself." Then, lips brush against lips (although I can't remember who initiates it), and we lose ourselves to the passion that we can't avoid.
And if I am a number, I'm infinity plus one
And if you are five words, you are afraid to be the one
And if you are a number, you're infinity plus one
And if I am four words, then I am needing of your love
We get into bed, her in a body-hugging tank top and short shorts, me in a white undershirt and boxers. I pull the covers up and pull her into my arms.
"We make a good pair, don't we, Jen?" I whisper into her hair.
She smiles. "How so?" she asks, blinking innocently.
"You have my six more than anyone I've never known," I say honestly. "You nearly killed me in a boxing match. Stepping on my feet with your ridiculously high heels forces me into submission."
A pause follows.
"You're not done," she realizes.
"…And I love you," I say softly, "more than anything."
She smiles against my chest. "Love you, Jethro," she mumbles, falling asleep as she tries to get the words out.
I chuckle. It's a wonder we have any time for this after all that we've been doing.
Oh, academia, you can pick me up
Soothe me with your words when I need your love
Prison sucks. Especially European prisons. Especially when your only companion is Ducky, and he happens to have many stories from his childhood regarding travels to Italy. If I hear one more story about Mother and her Corgis, I might shoot Duck before Morrow yanks us out of here.
I'm not even sure why we're here. Or why Jenny hasn't done anything to get us out yet.
That's when she comes in, guns blazing, and takes down the guards.
"Come on!" she says to me and Duck. "Do you want to get out of here or not?"
"About time, Probie," I provoke her.
She punches me in the shoulder as we sail away from the city on a boat that she managed to commandeer.
Next stop? No clue. All I know is that I have Jenny, a partner who understands me perfectly, knows my ticks, knows me inside and out. Maybe, because of it, things will turn out okay this time around.
Oh, academia, academia, academia
Oh, academia, academia, academia
A/N: Reviewing makes the glowing fireflies happy!