It was one year since Jenny Shepard's death. Today.

Gibbs was sitting at his desk, filing a report on the latest case they closed, when his phone rang. He grunted his customary greeting and listened carefully to the caller. He couldn't hide his surprise but recovered quickly as he listened and then went about shutting down his station. The team leader ignored the stares he was getting from DiNozzo and David as he hung up the phone, stood up abruptly and headed for the elevator.

"Everything okay, Boss?" Gibbs never left early, and it made one very special agent Tony DiNozzo nervous.

"Headed home for the night. Finish your reports," he said with finality before he stepped into the waiting elevator. Gibbs leaned against the far back wall for the ride down to reception. His heart was beating a little faster, anxiety apparently coursing through his veins. What could Jenny's estate have for me now?

It had been bad enough when he was delivered a list of what he would have gotten from her – had her house with said things inside not been engulfed by flames. And of course there was her father's Glock she had wanted him to have, which was probably at the bottom of the Potomac. He thought it odd, since she knew she was sick, that she hadn't updated her will to remove that wish. Then again, maybe Jenny simply wanted him to know that she wanted him to have something that belonged to her beloved father – a subject she had never been able to talk about with him. He understood. He knew what it was like to be so stricken by grief that you couldn't share it.

Gibbs stepped out of the elevator and recognized the man waiting for him. He nodded and waited for the rather short, well-dressed older gentleman to speak.

"Special Agent Gibbs, it was Ms. Shepard's request that you be given this letter on the first anniversary of her death." He handed it over to the man and left.

Gibbs swallowed heavily, stunned by the delicate envelope resting in his hand. Without thinking, he held it up to his nose, trying to detect the scent of Paris. Her scent. His heart sank a bit, even though he knew it would be impossible for it to still be there. He glanced around, daring anyone to look at him funny for what he had just done, but it didn't matter. No one in reception was paying attention to him. He put the letter in his jacket pocket and headed home. He had no idea what it said, but he knew he couldn't continue writing out that damn report as her note mocked him, waiting to be opened. And there was no way he could read it at work. Jenny deserved his full attention.

He raced home and immediately headed for the basement where he emptied out a mason jar and poured it half full with bourbon in her honor. He drank a good portion of it, looking for some Dutch courage before he could face her words. At least he hoped it contained her words. Wouldn't that be an ironic last joke on her part to get his hopes up – only to leave him with nothing… again.

His worry was for naught. When he opened the cream colored envelope, he immediately recognized her handwriting. This stationary was more formal in its presentation than what he had found at her desk that night. He placed it down on the workbench and took a deep breath. He wondered if she did this… reaching out from the grave, so to speak… to damn him with recriminations. He would deserve every single one, and he knew it. She haunted him as Shannon did. But at least he knew he'd been the best man he could for Shannon. For Kelly. He could make no such claim when it came to Jenny, and she knew it.

Gibbs pushed those thoughts aside. Self-examination wasn't something he tended to engage in anyway, though he did more with Jenny than with any of his other exes. He realized he was stalling. It was time to face her – one last time.

He reached for the box where he kept things that meant a lot to him – Shannon's rings, cards from Kelly – and a pair of Jenny's reading glasses he'd found buried in the back of her desk at NCIS. There had never been much in that office that showed it was hers, except for the pictures on the wall that she had picked out. But he found those glasses and the picture of her father and took both before Leon had noticed. The glasses he kept, and the frame he placed at her grave. He hadn't touched her glasses since.

Gibbs reached for them gently and held them for a moment before he put them on to read the letter she had written him. Somehow it seemed fitting.

He scrubbed his hand down his face, swallowed a bit more bourbon and then found the nerve to read her final words to him.

"Dear Jethro,

Here is another note from me telling you good-bye - albeit this one is quite different from the last and harder to write. Even though I've been dead a year in your world, as I write this I still can't believe I'm dying. I heard the diagnosis and wanted to run straight to you and cry in your arms. But we no longer have that kind of relationship. And I couldn't dredge up all that we had once meant to each other just for you to watch me die. I know you have seen me as cruel and inconsiderate of your feelings over the years, but that would truly have been heartless. You've already lost more than you were ever able to recover from – and all of us, the women who loved you, paid the price. But I'm not writing this to make you feel badly about it. Quite the opposite. I want to give you some closure, to help you understand the choices I made.

Of course, it's the coward's way out – telling you when I'm dead and can't feel the humiliation of what your reaction might be. But that can't be news to you. Running away from my feelings is something I've always been good at – and also doing what's right for me, even if it may have hurt you.

So here you go – here is my truth. I have always been hopelessly in love with you. And though you never said it back, I had it on good authority that you loved me too. The way you took care of me when I was sick or injured, your tone of voice and every touch said more than your words ever could.

So why did I leave, you may be wondering? Please know it was never about not loving you enough. I did so with my entire heart and soul. But I knew while you loved me as best you could, your heart was with Shannon and it hurt too much to have you with me and know you were wishing I were her.

Don't worry though - I made peace with it, or I never would have been able to come back to D.C. to work. And considering how avenging my father's death had been a part of the fabric of who I was longer than I had loved you, I had to focus on my goal and just do it. In the end, I was finally able to help him be at peace, my debt repaid. By that time, my fate was sealed anyway.

I hope you find your own peace one day.

Always… Jen"

Gibbs swallowed heavily and scrubbed his face with his hand. He'd always thought Jen had broken his heart. Now he knew he'd broken hers.