Title: Jen Belongs To God Now aka Always in his heart

Summary: I'm terrible at summaries. This Gibbs story takes place a little over four months after Jenny dies.

Rating: K+

Warnings: 1) spoilers for Judgment Day and just in case, maybe earlier episodes too and 2) contains references and details about a Christian funeral

Category: drama, a little angst, a little hurt/comfort, friendship

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or anything NCIS related. I'm not making any profit from posting this.

Note: All mistakes are mine. Every time I read I find something I missed and I also change a word or a sentence. I hope it's okay. Please read and review.

It was almost half past noon on Sunday afternoon and cars lined the street in the quiet Georgetown neighborhood with its brick sidewalks and lush greenery. He'd been on this particular block several months ago, but now it was mid October during one of the warmest autumns on record. Gazing at the new home he noticed that most of the trees had been saved, the adjacent residences looked the same as always and there was no visible evidence of a fire or the resulting demolition. The original sidewalk had remained intact and the reconstruction appeared to be going well with little scaffolding left and all new windows in place. After one last, long look, Gibbs suddenly couldn't hang around on P Street any longer.

He'd known driving through the neighborhood would be difficult, but he'd done it anyway. For some reason, every day during the last two weeks, something had reminded him of her. He thought about her a lot, but these memories had been different. They were about her death and not about her life. Maybe it was the team being back together. Tony had been the last to return and seeing him with Ziva reminded Gibbs of the day he'd seen the two of them outside the diner in the desert. Some ghosts needed to be put to bed and today was his day for doing just that.

He guided his truck back to Wisconsin Avenue and then to O Street, bypassing the pharmacy on the corner. With a partial role of antacid in his pocket he had decided to wait and see how he felt after before committing to the purchase of something stronger. Short of the stop sign, he eased the truck over a little and gazed at the Episcopal Church on his right. With the driver's side window down the warmish air felt good on his face and the music emanating from the historic building touched his heart. The hymn was lovely and he listened intently for many seconds when the choir and parishioners began to sing together.

The Church's one foundation
is Jesus Christ her Lord;
She is his new creation,
by water and the word:
From heaven he came and sought her
to be his holy bride;
With his own blood he brought her,
and for her life he died.

Thoughts flooded his brain as they started the second verse and Gibbs leaned back into the head rest, closed his eyes and remembered a time months earlier.

It had been clear and warm that day, his black suit absorbing the bright sunlight as he and Mike left the car and walked slowly toward the church. Two other cars parked nearby spit out passengers and a group of six silently joined them. The eight friends had dawdled a bit, clearly not eager to attend the funeral and perhaps exhibiting a bit of denial. Finally, wanting to escape the heat and high humidity and not wanting to sit all the way in the back, Ducky had taken the lead and urged everyone to get inside.

The church had been packed with family, friends and colleagues, possibly even a few enemies, and Gibbs remembered feeling self-conscious and stared at as they were handed service leaflets and escorted to spaces in two available pews. Settling in they'd been joined by Tobias Fornell who, without a word, slid into the empty place on the aisle. Gibbs remembered the stern yet compassionate face of his FBI friend and the look that said he'd be there for anyone who needed him.

While the others sat quietly, transfixed by the solemn occasion, soft organ music and high-profile guests around them, Gibbs had glanced at the printed paper still clutched in his hand. The cover proclaimed "In Celebration Of and Thanksgiving For The Life Of" and he remembered feeling slightly sick until he turned the page and saw that the service had been spelled out in every detail. No stranger to funerals, he'd been relieved to see that eulogies and tributes were not part of the private service and imagined that the SecNav and others had been happy about that.

Laughter disturbed his musing and Gibbs opened his eyes to see three young boys stop on the street to pick up their skateboards and hop up on to the slightly uneven brick sidewalk. He watched them disappear around the corner followed by a young couple pushing a stroller and remembered Jenny saying that the neighborhood was a walker's paradise. The choir and parishioners were still singing and with nobody else around he let himself get lost in memories once again.

He'd been seated near the back on the pulpit side between Abby and Ziva with Ziva next to Tony and Abby next to Mike. In front of them had been Ducky, Jimmy, Tim and Tobias while Director Leon Vance had been seated at least 10 rows up and over on the lectern side with the Secretaries of the Navy and Homeland Security, the Directors of ICE, FBI and CIA, several senators and congressmen, White House officials, high-ranking military officers and many others. Plain clothes personnel and marines in dress uniforms stood at attention in various spots around the church, providing security, safety and a bit of comfort. When the procession revealed a woman priest as officiate, a personal request made in advance, DiNozzo's sarcastic remark had been covered by the music, but Gibbs heard it and DiNozzo had been spared a future head smack or worse only because Ziva had intervened with a hard elbow into his side.

The service had been solemn yet uplifting: a life had been celebrated and a message delivered - death is not victorious over those who belong to God. The scripture readings, prayers and hymns offered comfort and joy, empathy and hope, but the circumstances of her death and aftermath had been difficult for all of them. Mike had been there when she died, unable to help her. Ziva and Tony had followed her order to stay out of her way, only to find her dead when they became concerned. Ducky had performed her autopsy. Gibbs had received the phone call, flown to California at the drop of a hat, faced Vance, confronted Mike and notified Ducky. He'd relived the past, avoided altercations in the present, been secretive, figured out how to end it and had gone through her personal papers before the final showdown. At the conclusion of it all he had burned down her home, but there hadn't been anything cleansing about it. Jenny was dead. The official cause, smoke inhalation, but quite a few people sitting in the church that day knew the awful truth. Her body had been cremated immediately to keep others from figuring out what had really happened and they had all been ordered to keep it all secret. They had submitted false reports and erased computer files, but they couldn't erase their memories. Those they would have to live with.

During the service, Gibbs had leaned forward to put a reassuring hand on Ducky's shoulder when his friend shuddered with grief and another on Jimmy's when the young man looked lost and didn't know what to do. He'd held Ziva's hand when she looked to be burdened with much more guilt than grief and he'd hugged Abby as she sagged against his side while singing "All Things Bright and Beautiful." He'd thought to be concerned about Tim, but Tobias had offered comfort to the younger agent seated next to him. Stone faced, Tony hadn't invited any consoling and he hadn't offered it to anyone else. Not even to Ziva, who shared his feelings of guilt and responsibility.

The service had proceeded as outlined with everyone standing up and sitting down when required. Jenny's good friend, Congressman Bob Sommers, had read a Lesson from the Old Testament, his voice growing stronger after "Have you not known? Have you not heard?" and her sister had read a passage from the New Testament. She'd held it together until the last line "and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes" and that's when her own tears rolled down her cheeks. She had dabbed at her eyes with a pretty flowered hankie and everyone was moved as she returned to the seat next to her mother, Jen's mother, who was crying softly.

When Gibbs stood to make his way to the aisle for Communion, he'd been pleased, but not surprised to see that everyone in their group except Ziva and Tony had accepted the invitation. Ziva, being Jewish had not, and Tony, needing an excuse to refrain, had stayed with her while the rest of them went to the front of the church. Some others attending the service had also not partaken, but many did, and even though it had taken some extra time to accommodate everyone, the service had been mercifully short.

Having rejected the idea of her funeral taking place at Washington National Cathedral, where services for important people often took place, she had instead spoken to her parish priest who after her sudden death had contacted the Bishop who was more than happy to come to the smaller neighborhood church. She hadn't wanted a large crowd; no Armed Forces Chorus or Marine Orchestra, no gawkers or curiosity seekers and definitely no press. Nobody could control their presence outside the church or at the outskirts of the cemetery, but at least they wouldn't be inside the church sneaking photos or videos. She had known that if she died while still Director of NCIS that there would have to be something official, possibly a public reception where friends, colleagues, political rivals and others could come to snack, drink and share memories, but at least she had been successful in keeping her funeral low-key and basically private.

Gibbs remembered getting a little choked up when the choir sang The Navy Hymn. It was one of his favorites and he would always wonder if Jen had selected it just for him. The flowers on the altar had been gorgeous: two simple vases of orchids selected by him and Mike and arranged through the Parish Altar Guild with the family's permission. It had been the only thing Jenny Shepard had not specified in advance.

Yet she on earth hath union
with God, the Three in one,
And mystic sweet communion
with those whose rest is won.
O happy ones and holy!
Lord, give us grace that we
Like them, the meek and lowly,
on high may dwell with thee.

The recessional hymn ended and Gibbs had opened his eyes to gaze at the Victorian Gothic structure with its beautiful stained glass and pointed arches, but without spires and gargoyles, when a car horn startled him. After glancing in the rear view mirror he quickly maneuvered to the right as far as he could to let the other motorist go around his truck. It was an older couple with a small white dog perched on a lap, the little face pressed against the window looking at him as the vanilla Chrysler 300 rolled slowly past. Knowing that the service had ended and people would soon be coming from the church, Gibbs watched as the car went straight across the intersection and then pulled his truck away from the curb. He waited at the stop sign for a break in the cross traffic before turning on 30th Street, beginning the same journey the cortege had taken that hot summer day. 29th was faster and more of a thoroughfare, but this way was a straight shot to the cemetery, only a half mile or so away.

He drove past houses, condos, townhouses and apartments with practically a canopy of trees everywhere he looked. A middle-aged man carrying a cane was walking an adult English bulldog with a big head. A young mother was watching two small kids riding big wheels and he heard the gentle thump, thump, thump as the tires rolled over the uneven brick sidewalk. He navigated slowly around two teenagers on bicycles, but they were being careful and stayed close to the curb. Getting across Q Street took a lot longer without a police escort, but Gibbs waited patiently until it was clear before going straight across. One long block later and he was at the still closed cemetery gate. A look at his watch told him it wouldn't be long before someone would be opening it so he pulled over to the curb to wait and think... and to remember.

Tobias and Ducky had left their cars near the church and ridden to the cemetery with him and Mike and Jimmy had gone with Abby and Tim. Ziva and Tony had arrived together, sat together and had left together keeping their guilt and their misery to themselves. The motorcade of vehicles had followed the police escort along the street in the neighborhood where daily errands didn't need a car: coffee at a small café, groceries at a local market, fun at a nearby park, worship at several churches, lunch or dinner at a few bars and restaurants and if one needed to go somewhere, many bus routes intersected the area. Browsing at the Shops at Georgetown Park had once been a treat in inclement weather, but many of the original stores had pulled out and the complex was in need of a serious makeover.

It had only taken a few minutes, even at funeral procession speed, to drive from the church to the cemetery. Parking so many cars along the winding cemetery roads had been a bit of a challenge, even though most people had skipped the short interment service. Most mourners had ended up parking directly behind the car in front of them and then walking. With escape on his mind, Gibbs had been careful to leave enough space to get his car out, but most had not.

Movement caught his eye as a man walked up to the big iron gate from the inside. It was exactly 1:00 PM. Gibbs waited for the other cars to drive through the gate before proceeding. He wasn't in a rush and actually sat in his truck for a few minutes before deciding to continue on foot.

It was peaceful walking through the cemetery. He'd left his truck where he'd parked it inside the gate and was meandering along behind the chapel, though not aimlessly. And as he wandered, he thought about Jen: her eyes, her smile, her humor, how he used to feel better just seeing her. He remembered, sort of, where the niche was located and had headed that way, walking on the road and natural paths rather than the crypt pathways. The leaves on the trees had barely begun changing, some flowers and bushes were still in bloom and he could hear a few birds up in the trees above him. It was still too warm and they'd been tricked into not flying south just yet. Rounding a curve he knew exactly where he was and started for a rock path in front of him. From a distance he could see someone was already there. It was not unusual since there were many graves close by and even more crematory niches, but he slowed his pace and maneuvered behind a couple of trees.

The man was tall, well-built with mostly silver hair and he had a familiar bearing. Military. In his 50's, he was dressed casually in slacks and a shirt with a ball cap on his head which, as Gibbs watched, he removed and held in his hands along with a bouquet of flowers. Feeling slightly guilty now, for not bringing any flowers and for spying, Gibbs left his vantage point and moved a little closer. His own visit was personal and he wanted it to stay private and he didn't care to violate anyone else's private moment, but his gut was screaming that this guy was there because of Jen.

He found a spot about 25 feet behind the man where he could stand and remain unobserved. It was still early with few visitors in the cemetery and Gibbs needed to be quiet until he figured out something about the guy who was now sitting on a granite topped wall next to the stairway of niches. There was something familiar about the man's face, visible now in profile, but he couldn't remember where or when he might have seen him. Perhaps it had been at her funeral, but his memories couldn't confirm that. She had kept her personal life and relationships secret and with good reason, since she had been the head of NCIS and someone knowing anything about her, her family or her friends, could have used that information for intimidation or blackmail.

After several minutes of sitting quietly, Gibbs watched as the mystery man stepped onto the riser below where he'd been sitting and crouched down, caressing the niche cover on the side of the step with his hand for many seconds before laying down the flowers next to it. He had been right. It was the niche containing Jen's ashes and this guy hadn't just been some casual friend, he had been a lover, and suddenly Gibbs wasn't just curious, he was envious. Jealous even. Who was the guy? Had he and Jen been a couple? Where did she meet him? Had they been together long? The investigator in him screamed for answers.

Jen hadn't been his since they were partners in the 90's and in the years that she was Director, their personal feelings pretty much stayed on the sideline. There were times, as there often are, when something was said or their actions might have brought them close to something more, but whatever it had been was quickly extinguished and they had both settled for a deep and committed friendship.

Too far away to hear anything, he could only watch as the man spoke softly, until finally he finished whatever he had to say and walked away, back toward the road. Gibbs waited until he heard the car drive off, presumably heading to the front of the cemetery with its gatehouse and parking area. Leaving his hiding place, he glanced around for other cemetery visitors before slowly approaching the descending terrace and stairway. The dark granite and natural field stone looked as good as he remembered and he stood in admiration for only a moment before sitting down in the same spot mystery man had vacated just a few minutes before. On the riser below him was the bouquet of flowers; beautiful red roses and white orchids wrapped in tissue. Jen's "friend" had brought a classic and classy expression of love and for a moment Gibbs wished he had gotten the license plate number or snapped a picture of the man with his phone. Truth be told, he did get a good enough look that he could probably give Abby a good description to use for facial recognition. He'd get McGee to help him find out absolutely everything about the guy, from where he was born to what he ate for breakfast and even what pets he had as a kid.

Then suddenly he stopped himself.

Gibbs smiled, looked up to the beautiful blue sky and thought about all the good memories he still had and would always have. Then he gazed at everything around him. It was a gorgeous Sunday afternoon. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. A squirrel scampered along a branch. Leaves fluttered in the soft breeze and for just a moment he thought he could hear Jen laughing.

The End

Thanks very much for reading. Please review. And yes, I know I tend to write in passive voice. I'm trying to stop.

Just some info.

1) Jenny Shepard lived on P Street. (I liked her and wish they hadn't killed her off)

2) The church in this story is fictional, but there are two Episcopal churches close to where Jenny Shepard supposedly lived in Georgetown. The cemetery is also fictional, but I've been to Oak Hill Cemetery and I liked it and it's right there, very close to the churches and you can get to it by driving down 30th.

3) Washington National Cathedral was dedicated as The Cathedral Church of Saint Peter and Saint Paul a couple of years after Jenny was killed.

4) Hymn:

The Church's One Foundation

The Church's one foundation
is Jesus Christ her Lord;
she is his new creation,
by water and the word:
from heaven he came and sought her
to be his holy bride;
with his own blood he bought her,
and for her life he died.

Elect from every nation,
yet one o'er all the earth,
her charter of salvation:
one Lord, one faith, one birth;
one holy name she blesses,
partakes one holy food,
and to one hope she presses
with every grace endued.

Though with a scornful wonder
we see her sore oppressed,
by schisms rent asunder,
by heresies distressed:
yet saints their watch are keeping,
their cry goes up, "How long?"
and soon the night of weeping
shall be the morn of song.

'Mid toil and tribulation,
and tumult of her war,
she waits the consummation
of peace forevermore,
till with the vision glorious
her longing eyes are blessed,
and the great Church victorious
shall be the Church at rest.

Yet she on earth hath union
with God, the Three in One,
and mystic sweet communion
With those whose rest is won:
O happy ones and holy!
Lord, give us grace that we,
like them, the meek and lowly,
on high may dwell with thee.