She crossed off the previous day on the calendar. The time was getting nearer.
She looked up at the photos tacked beside it, two on the wall beside the calendar. Probably taken at some stuffy function, after a couple of drinks. Or, if she remembered correctly, at a bar near that function, where they had all snuck off and met up when they had gotten bored in the early hours. One was of herself and Jethro, dancing together, lost together on the floor, standing too close for protocol, but neither of them cared. Her next favourite one was the bar photo. She stood sandwiched between Gibbs and DiNozzo, his arm sneakily around her waist, lazily protective. On her other side was Ziva and DiNozzo, he with an arm around her shoulder, looking smugly satisfied, and she looking as happy as she Jenny had ever seen her. Abby had her arms wrapped around McGee's neck, and they both looked so happy. She wasn't sure which of the two 'couples' reminded her more of Jethro and herself, but they both did, in ways. Ducky and Palmer were there too, chatting about something or other to the side of the photo.
Her 'protection detail' consisted of an over-protective, scratch that, hawk-like Gibbs, who glared at anyone who dared to ask her for a dance all night, until she got her way and pulled him out on the floor, oblivious to the snapping of Abby's camera. That was, until she was shown the photos the next day. She couldn't remember smiling so much at a set of photographs since she had found ones from her childhood.
Sometimes she missed him so badly she couldn't breathe. It was safer this way though, if not just for her, for him and his team too. They were like some kind of disjointed family. Or they had been, at the time. But it was niggling at her that a lot could change in five years.
She wondered if she would be accepted, and would they understand? She did it for them. All of it. But they were all five years older, and maybe, in some cases, wiser. She smiled, thinking of how DiNozzo probably wouldn't have gotten any wiser, or at least she hoped. She also hoped that life hadn't taken little Abby's spark, and that she still hugged as good. She missed her hugs, DiNozzo's bad jokes, Ziva's light-hearted yet dark threats at said jokes, McGee's technical jargon, Ducky's stories, Palmer's political mistakes, hell, she even missed the Glare. But more than that, she missed the Giver of the Glare.
She hadn't been entirely cut off, but she had been kept at an impossible distance. It pissed her off immeasurably that all she had was access via Google search, and she just felt like a stalker that way. She missed having access to files that she needed. All she got were news reports and alerts.
How would they react? How would she react, if she had thought one of them was dead, and then five years later, they waltzed back into her life? It was what was going to happen, either way. They had effectively been dead to her. She was excited and apprehensive all at once. Jesus, she felt like she was going back to school after summer vacation, the butterflies were so bad just thinking about it.
She felt her phone vibrate in the back pocket of her jeans, and she pulled it out subconsciously. It was another e-mail alert. She sighed, vowing that this one would be her last, that after dinner she would adjust her e-mail settings so she could stop torturing herself. It wasn't doing her any good. She reached for her reading glasses, slipping them on.
Her heart skipped a beat as she read the headline; "NCIS rocked by bomb blast at DC headquarters".
She sprinted for the television, her mind racing between "Oh my God, please let them be okay, where's the fucking remote, oh my God, oh my God!" she grabbed the remote, finally, from where she had left it after last night's Law & Order: SVU marathon, behind a sofa cushion, extricated and jammed it at the TV, her pulse racing.
The crawl confirmed her fears; "Many feared injured or dead in NCIS bomb blast. Suspected home-grown terrorist Harper Dearing allegedly involved"
She slumped down on the couch, her head in her hands. This was so unfair, just when she was going to come out of hiding, and someone really threatened her family. She knew she was being selfish, but she didn't care. She was going to stick like glue to this story, and she was going to try to hack into the Pentagon, find out who this Harper Dearing thing was, and she was going to hunt the bastard down and take him out.
She crossed the room and made her way out to the bedroom, where she mercifully still had her Glock. It was going to be in use soon, and she needed to clean it.