A/N - I'm back with another story. Hopefully you'll like. But please review and let me know what you think. Thanks.
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Jen walked towards the smoking car, wishing that she were someplace – anyplace else, though she knew she needed to be here
The ride in the van passed in silence – none of the members of the team said a word, and neither did Jen. Despite the uncomfortable, pained silence, no one seemed to want to say anything, and Jen was not about to start a conversation. As they reached the scene of the accident, the fact that this situation was real became unavoidable. She had hoped desperately that it had been a mistake … or even better , a nightmare. The truck stopped with a crunch of gravel, and she realized that this was a nightmare – a nightmare that she couldn't wake up from. She got out, and tried to force herself to focus. If she was going to help in this investigation – and she had no other choice – then she would have to concentrate and … and … but she couldn't. Jen walked towards the smoking car, wishing that she were someplace – anyplace else, though she knew she needed to be here. Ever since that moment she saw the bright flower of flame explode in a deadly bloom, she knew she had to be here. Despite Gibbs's protests that he, McGee and Ziva could handle it, there was never any doubt that she would come to. She walked towards the smoking wreck, realizing that it was a start, even though she would never be able to erase what she had done. What she had done. What SHE had done. It was her fault this had happened, and she knew it. In fact, it seemed like the whole world knew it. Rightfully accusing eyes – his – followed her everywhere, and the smoke emanating from the car was a beacon, proclaiming her guilt to the world, and even her footsteps as she walked seemed to tell her that this was her fault, and illuminated the numerous things she could have, should have done to save him, but had failed to do. Why hadn't she made Tony's cover deeper? She should have known that it wouldn't be enough; she should have never underestimated La Grenouille – she should have known that La Grenouille would find out who Tony really was … she should have taken extra steps to protect him … but she had failed miserably, and Tony had paid the price for that.
She had lost agents before, but Tony had been on a special mission for her. He had died because she needed to get her revenge, because she could not set aside her personal feelings. He was not supposed to die, but he had … and it was all her fault. And there was nothing she could do to make reparation.
And though this was the last place on earth she wanted to be, she wondered just how relieved she would feel when she left. She knew the memory of the wreckage would occupy her nightmares for the rest of her life, just as the guilt she felt over his death would. She did blame herself. Her father's death, while painful was, in some respects easier because none of the fault lay with her. Tony's death, on the other hand … no matter how hard she tried, she could not blame La Grenouille. He might have planted the explosive, but she was the one who had asked Tony to go on the mission. The guilt was entirely hers this time.