a/n:so it begins: the most au i've ever au'ed (if you will). i tend to keep saying that with every new au i write, but the deeper we get into NCIS seasons (12, guys!) with no new Jenny material, the more creative i have to get to keep from being boring! so we'll see how this goes. i hope you don't mind taking a real leap of faith with me, because i've no clue if anyone will like this or not !
Stillwater, Pennsylvania: 1984
Two Pink Lines
At the edge of Stillwater, there was a rickety red barn down by a shallow creek – a picturesque old thing that seemed to fit the small-town stereotype; it was on the property of an old farmer who'd long since built a smaller one, closer to his house.
The old farmer had a local kid help him with the crops during the season, and he turned a half-blind old eye to what the kid did in his free time in that old barn – it was the kind of barn with a hayloft, and empty stalls – a nice, cozy getaway for a teenager with a girlfriend – even in the colder months.
It was almost April – not so cold anymore; Spring was heavy in the air, and though the approaching season meant less time to dawdle and more work, Leroy Jethro Gibbs was glad he didn't have to haul a metric ton of blankets into the loft just to keep warm – today, in particular, it was balmy enough for her to be content with just a knit afghan.
He lay on his back, staring at the wood arches of the ceiling, and frowned. He shifted onto his side – the blankets were a hassle, but the more of them there were, the less the hay stabbed into his skin. He turned his head to see if she was uncomfortable – and she caught his eye, flushing.
She was trying to work out a knot in her necklace, her fingers moving clumsily – shaky and clumsy was rare for her; she was always so confident. He grinned at her and reached for her hands, winking – he'd tangled it up, with his hot hands; he'd get it unwrought, with patience.
Her hands fell to her side, and she tilted her head. She – her name was Jennifer, Jenny Shepard – looked up at him, and flicked her eyes back down. He sensed she was uncomfortable.
"Hay stick you?" he asked, lowering his hands to rest them on her chest a moment.
He bent down and kissed her neck, catching her skin with his teeth. She shivered a little, and swatted at him.
"You'll leave a mark," she murmured, shifting.
She shrugged. The hay hadn't bothered her at all – for a brief moment, up here, alone, in a kind of rustic, standstill paradise, she'd lost her nerve, and had even been able to forget about what was bothering her – but that moment was over, and laying next to him, naked, under just a blanket, it was seemed impossible to ever forget that maybe their fragile world was about to come crashing down.
He rose up on his arm and started fiddling with her necklace again – it was a little Egyptian hieroglyph, something her father had brought her from worlds away, back when he was in the Army.
There was some lazy concentration in the way he tried to untangle strands of her long, dark red hair, and bits of straw and hay, from the knotted mess the delicate gold chain had become. She watched him handling the glittery pendant carefully – he glared at it purposefully as he tried to free it without pulling her hair, and she felt small and uncertain watching him; her eyes stung harshly.
She didn't want all this to change, but it didn't really matter – once she told him she was even worried, that it was even something they had to talk about – it was just going to make everything different. She wanted to keep watching him untangle the necklace like that was the only real problem they had.
She opened her mouth to take a deep breath, and she hiccupped slightly, as if she might start crying. She squeezed her knees together for strength, and pushed his hand away gently.
He gave her an amused look.
"Almost got it," he mumbled soothingly, dipping his head down to kiss her lips.
He thought she was worried for the well being of her necklace – the stupid necklace; the reason he'd first spoken to her, sometime back when they weren't even interested in each other – in anyone – like this.
"Jethro," she whispered, shifting anxiously – she was the only one who called him Jethro; he was Leroy to everyone else.
The hay did stick her now, stabbed into her back like a punishment, and she winced – she had always thought the blankets were a hassle, too, but they definitely provided more cushion. She - they'd – put up with anything for this old barn, though; they'd much rather be caught by the farmer Gibbs' worked for than Jenny's father – or either of their parents.
He mumbled something to her, and ran his hand over her under the blanket. His fingertips brushed her breasts and then he slid his palm over her hand, reaching for her fingers.
She fluttered her hand, reaching right back. She thought about what she was going to say – she'd been thinking for days, trying to act like nothing was wrong – and there was still, she tried to tell herself, the tiniest sliver of hope that maybe nothing was wrong.
He squeezed her hand, and pressed his lips to her throat, and it felt stifling – she couldn't do this again without saying something. She pulled one arm out from under him and pressed on his chest gently.
"Jethro," she said again, insistently.
He nudged her jaw with his nose in that charming way of his, and looked at her calmly. He arched an eyebrow. It was a good thing she hadn't composed something eloquent to say, because when she met his eyes, her words just came out in a sticky, quick rush, anyway –
"I think I might be pregnant."
She felt sick the moment she admitted it out loud; since the moment her period became nonexistent instead of just late, she hadn't even told her best friend that there was even the possibility – she hadn't even told her best friend that she'd gone all the way with her boyfriend.
She held her breath – maybe on purpose, maybe because she couldn't breathe; and he didn't react at all, he just kept looking at her with an arched eyebrow, like the words hadn't hit him yet. Slowly, though, his face changed; he seemed to stop breathing, too, his eyes wide.
She turned towards him, her knees rubbing together. She reached for his arm with both of hers, taking hold of him nervously.
"I think," she said hoarsely. "I – I didn't take a test or anything, yet."
She swallowed nauseously – she was still trying to convince herself that she couldn't be pregnant – as long as she didn't take a test, that meant she wasn't – right? She tried to force herself to believe that they had been responsible, so –
He shook his head slowly, his brow tightening.
"No," he muttered stiffly. "We used 'em – condoms."
It sounded like he was trying to convince himself of the same thing.
"I don't know," she hissed at him weakly, "maybe one broke – they break, and I'm - I'm not on anything else."
Her cheeks flushed. She felt embarrassed, exposed, and she'd never felt that way around him before, even when she told him she could never get birth control with out someone in this small town finding out, telling her father – so she'd asked him to get protection.
"You haven't taken a test?" he asked, dazed.
"I can't buy a test here," she answered desperately, her fingertips digging into his arm. "There's one drug store – everyone will see, someone will tell my Dad!"
It was the same reason she'd had him get protection – talk was everything in towns as small as Stillwater, and everyone knew everyone.
He swallowed, his eyes moving – anxious, but he was still careful to hold his jaw firm, not showing it.
"I can – " he started.
She shook her head, hay tangling into her hair.
"No – no, Jethro, they know who you're dating, everyone knows," she whispered – she didn't know why she was whispering; it was only the old wood listening. "Then, even if it's negative, the whole town – and half the county – they'll all know I thought I was, and that I'm not a virgin – "
He nodded, lowering his body closer to her a little. The way people talked here – Stillwater was small, the little boroughs surrounding it were small, and there was no need in starting a rumor if nothing came of it – small town talk could be cruel.
"We need to drive to – Bloomsburg, or two cities over or something," she told him shakily.
"I could swipe one from Dad's store," Gibbs tried – he suddenly didn't know if he wanted to wait, he wanted to know now – he couldn't even think straight, about anything.
She shook her head again.
"It's a general store – food, tools, garden," she murmured. "He doesn't stock, I've checked," she admitted, flushing.
Gibbs swallowed hard.
"How long," he started huskily. "How long – have you thought?" he stuttered.
She shrugged a little, biting her lip.
"I've, I, uh – I was just waiting to … " she trailed off.
He lay down next to her, falling hard onto his back. He put a hand over his face, and he nodded – about what, he didn't know. He had his truck – he could drive her somewhere to get a test, at some city with more than one drug store. He rubbed his forehead hard.
"Jenny," he said hoarsely, trying not to sound too terrified. "Your old man – he'll shoot me. He'll shoot me for touching you."
She didn't say anything – the only thing she could think was – yeah, the retired Colonel would shoot him, once for touching his daughter, twice for knocking her up – but then he'd shoot her, too; so they were in it together. She closed her eyes tightly.
He sat up, and reached for her, shaking her shoulder.
"Hey, Jen," he called. He leaned over her, brightening a little – a false brightness, wary hope on his face. He chewed on his lip a minute. "You're probably not, right?" he asked.
He was looking for the kind of reassurance she'd been trying to give herself for days – weeks. She opened her mouth to agree, to nod – yeah! probably not! – except that was the moment it felt more probable than ever, and even if she wanted to give herself false hope, she couldn't bring herself to downplay it for him.
"I don't know, Jethro," she said finally, her voice shaking. "I haven't had a period for – since … February."
She'd been waiting for it for most of March; that was the problem – and she couldn't just wait and see anymore, because she needed – well, she needed to know, because… they just needed to know.
"Shit," he said.
He threw himself onto his back, staring at the ceiling of the loft again. He swallowed hard, panic rising in his throat bitterly. His heart slammed painfully against his ribcage and she reached for his arm again, gripping him tightly. She felt an unshakeable fear for a second; fear that he would start to hate her.
They hadn't even been having sex that long – just since New Year's, since they'd been together a year.
"Shit," he swore again, choking on the curse.
"Jethro," she said, sitting up. She clutched the blanket to her, and reached out, placing her hand on his neck, near his cheek. "Jethro, I'm really scared," she managed.
He touched her hand, his eyes still on the ceiling. Then, he met her eyes, and reached silently for her necklace. It was still in a knot, still tangled up with straw, and her hair – it was such a mess because he'd been tangling his fingers in it in the heat of the moment.
He swallowed, staring at the damn thing – maybe because ten minutes ago, it had been his only concern.
"I don't think I can untangle it," he muttered numbly, defeated.
She licked her lips, holding the blanket to her chest and looking down at his hand. She reached for the necklace at her throat, and started to cry – in a way, it was a relief. She closed her eyes, curled into herself – the blanket tight around her shoulders – and bowed her head, pulling away from him.
He grit his teeth, flinching – he really he hated it when Jenny cried; he thought he was bad at making her feel better – and his mother always told him he wasn't a tear person.
He sat up awkwardly, unsure what to do. He reached for his jeans, and slid them on, upending some hay as he shifted and crawled towards her. He sat next to her, and let one leg dangle off the loft, reaching out to put his hands on her knee.
"Jen?" he asked. "Jen, don't cry," he pleaded. "Look, you don't even know," he tried. "You might – I'll just get you a test," he said, reaching for her arm.
She swiped at her eyes and let the blanket fall, reaching for her own clothes – a sundress, the first of the season. She fastened on her bra – and pulled the light thing over her head, crawling to sit with him. She wiped at her eyes again, trying to hold back more tears.
"I need one soon," she said haggardly. She wrapped her arms around herself, and he looked her up and down.
She didn't look any different. She still looked like the same girl he'd taken to homecoming last year, but her hair was longer. And she wasn't crying then.
He thought about it a minute – he thought about it too hard, because it gave him something concrete to focus on – something other than the loud, indecipherable tumult in his head.
"They got this – bakery, in Bloomsburg, they make this – French thing, Mom likes," he began gruffly.
Jenny smiled a little weakly.
"Macaroons," she said quietly.
Gibbs nodded.
"I surprise 'er with 'em, sometimes," he said, a guilty look striking his eyes. "Haven't … lately."
He hadn't, because he'd been so caught up in Jenny, and being around her and with her – his mother liked Jenny, even loved her, and she hadn't noticed –or at least, she hadn't told her son if she had.
"I can go get some, stop in some overnight drugstore," he said slowly. "No one in Bloomsburg gives a damn about Stillwater."
She nodded, taking a deep breath – that was a start. She licked her lips, tugging on the hem of her dress.
"How long?" she asked.
"Few days?" Gibbs guessed, lifting his shoulders.
She bit her lip, and nodded. She tried to take a deep breath, but something caught in her throat, and her face fell again. She pushed her hair back, breathing softly, but quickly.
He tried to give her a smirk.
"Hey," he said huskily. "If you are – uh, the Macaroons, they'll butter up my Mom."
She laughed a little, but it was a weak laugh, an unconvinced one. He knew it wasn't a joke, either – in fact, he didn't even know what it was. The whole concept, the whole possibility – seemed abstract. It wasn't even something he could really fathom.
He held out his arm, and she moved closer, burrowing against his side. She let her legs hang of the loft as well, and looked down to the hay-covered floor. It had never looked so far down before – but she'd never worried about falling, either.
She closed her eyes tightly and rested her head on his shoulder, and for a moment – she was able to bring all of her thoughts to a halt; all of the fear, the worry, the nausea, the uncertainty – and she just sat there in the barn loft with him for a moment, because at least for a few more days – they wouldn't know the answer.
He sat on a rock near the Stillwater covered bridge, his back to the faded, dusty red-painted steel that reminded him a little of an old barn. He flicked a rock from his hand into the creek, and turned his head when he heard gravelly footsteps behind him.
She sat down next to him, situating herself cozily on the same rock as him, hip-to-hip and knee-to-knee. A bag fell off of her shoulder and rested on the rocky, grassy ground at her feet.
"Hey," he said.
She spared him a small, nervous smile, and nodded. She turned, reaching for her bag, clutching tightly at the frayed shoulder strap. He put his hand on her lower back and leaned over to kiss her. He pulled her hair back from her neck.
"You take it?" he asked in her ear.
She nodded again, and he dug his fingers into her, pulling her a little closer, apprehensively. She pulled a porcelain jewelry box out of her bag, and sat it on her lap – balancing it on her knees. He recognized it; he'd seen it in her room, a delicate, antique looking thing – he knew it had a springy ballerina inside, that danced to a French lullaby – it was another thing her father had brought her, from his military days.
She took a deep breath, her eyes on the jewelry box. She chewed on her lip.
"I haven't looked," she admitted finally.
She winced, and then looked over at him, as if expecting him to berate her. He met her eyes – but he didn't say anything. He'd been sitting here, waiting for her to meet him, assuming she knew. He wasn't so much upset with her as – well, he understood.
"I took it this morning," she said quietly, biting her lip. "I just … chucked it in here, and put the whole thing in my bag," she explained. She took a deep breath. She shook her head a little, at a loss for words.
"You had it in there?" Gibbs asked, pointing at her bag. "All day, at school?"
"In my locker," Jenny answered weakly. She tossed her hair back, and bit her lip. She laughed, a dry, hoarse noise of disbelief. "I stopped by to, to uh, grab my history book and it was there – hey, you might be pregnant!"
She trailed off, chewing on her lip again.
"I wanted to look with you," she said in a small voice.
He nodded, slipping his arm further around her waist.
It had been more than a week since she'd told him she was worried; he'd gone to Bloomsburg on Sunday, after church, to get his mother her sweets – and he'd picked up a single test while he was there. He'd met Jenny at the barn, to give her the test, on Tuesday – and she'd put it off until today.
"You goin' crazy, Jen?" he asked. "Not knowin'?"
He was. Crazier by the second – hell, he was afraid to touch her; he was afraid of what he'd done.
She nodded, licking her lips.
"But I couldn't – I had to wait to take it," she said, as if she were justifying herself. "Because … if I am, well, today's Friday, so I have a weekend to … I don't know, I don't know," she murmured tensely.
A weekend to – cry, scream, jump out of a window? Run away? Figure out what she was going to do? Put on a brave face? She stared down at the little jewelry box – if she could just keep it in here forever – ignorance was supposed to be bliss, right?
Gibbs rubbed his thumb over her spine a moment, his eyes on her hands. He flexed his hand, and nudged her shoulder with his.
"Think you should just open it," he suggested quietly.
"I think," she said softly, focusing on it with wariness. She swallowed thickly. "I think I need to sit here … and work up the courage."
"Can't sit here forever, Jen," he pointed out.
"I know."
"Worst that could happen – "
"The worst that could happen is that I'm pregnant!" she broke in testily.
He nodded, his jaw tight.
"Maybe you're not," he said, turning towards her. He rested his other hand on her thigh, pulling her leg closer. "Jenny," he started, grasping for something comforting, something reassuring, to say.
"Maybe I'm not," she repeated thickly, turning her head. She licked her lips and her breath caught. "But I think I am," she confessed quietly.
She looked at him again like he might lose his cool, and again he didn't. He just looked back. He kept looking, and then he squeezed her thigh and held her leg against him a moment, and then he reached for some gravel, and held it in his hand.
"Can't stand it anymore, Jen," he admitted finally, a little grit in his teeth, a little of his own panic coming out. He skipped a rock with tense precision. "You – you look, when you can."
She leaned into him, holding the box there so gingerly on her knees, listening to the rocks he was skipping hit water. She felt an impending sense of doom, and at the same time, a daunting sense of carelessness - if she wasn't, then she wasn't, and if she was – that was that.
Still, she held the box. It was driving her crazy and she couldn't stand it either, but she just couldn't open it yet. She wanted to sit, for a few more minutes – greedy for just a few more minutes, because she thought that if this was just a frivolous teenage scare, she'd have no problem looking – the heaviness in the pit of her stomach told her that her instincts were more than likely right.
"Hey, Jethro?"
He grunted.
"I'm going to open the box."
He skipped another rock, and nodded.
She sucked in her breath.
"It's two pink lines," she told him.
His head snapped over.
"What's that mean?" he asked harshly – but she was looking at him, and the box was still closed.
He grit his teeth.
"Jen!"
"If it's two pink lines," she said. "That's what we don't want."
He was looking at her now, and that's what she wanted. She didn't want him skipping rocks while she faced it alone. She bit her lip, and turned to open the box – and faltered again.
"Jethro, can you just open it?" she gasped.
She expected him to take over for her. She didn't expect him to reach over and flip it open without warning, while she was still focusing on him. She opened her mouth in surprise while his eyes flicked down. He only looked for a moment, and then his gaze snapped back up – and the look in his eyes was so decisive, so final, she knew.
Jenny looked down, and the two pink lines consumed her vision – there, glaring off of a cheap white stick, settled in an old jewelry box lined with pink felt, serenaded by an old, carved wooden ballerina spinning in a morose circle.
She closed the box with a loud snap, and burst into tears.
Gibbs slid his arm up her back and pulled her close to him, staring stiffly ahead – today, he didn't beg her to stop crying. He didn't think she'd be able to even if he asked, and he felt too much like crying himself to be bothered by her tears.
She clutched the jewelry box to her chest tightly and pressed her face into his shirt – he wasn't sure if she was scared, or angry, or sick – he couldn't decipher what he was feeling, finding out –
It wasn't just a scare.
She was – they were –
He turned his head and pressed his nose against her forehead.
"It's okay, Jenny," he said huskily.
She pushed her hair back, tangling her fingers in it tightly.
"Oh my god," she moaned. "Oh my god – it's not okay, it's not okay," she repeated, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. "What did I do?"
He pulled her a little closer, turning and putting his other arm around her.
"S'not your fault," he muttered mechanically. "I should've … shouldn't've asked you to – "
"Oh," she burst out, jerking away and looking at him with red eyes. "Don't – don't act like you made me," she pointed at herself. "I wanted to do it, too!"
She pushed her hair back again, the jewelry box lying in her lap.
She stared at him with wide eyes, and then she covered her mouth, searching his stiff features – his clenched jaw, the tense line of his brow. She felt dizzy – but the moment passed. She reached out for him with her free hand, clutching his shoulder.
"What am I going to do?" she asked hoarsely, her voice cracking.
Her lashes fluttered. He reached over and grabbed her thigh again, pulling it close to his.
"I'll take care of you, Jenny," he said gruffly, with a lot more bravado and certainty than he felt – that's what he was supposed to do, wasn't it? Step up, be a man? "I always said I was gonna join the military, I can take care of you – "
"Jethro, you're not old enough!" she burst out. "We're not old enough! People are still taking care of us!"
She licked her lips and pushed his hand away.
"I don't want you to go away – you can't leave me here alone, not with everyone talking – and they'll stare, and my father – " she gasped, clutching her hand to her stomach. "He'll kill me, Jethro, he'll kick me out – "
"He'll kill me first, Jen," Gibbs interrupted grimly.
She shook her head, tears splashing down her cheeks.
"He's so proud," she said. "He – I'm supposed to go off to college and, and – "
She broke off, dissolving into tears again.
Tentatively, Gibbs rested his hand on her leg once more, gritting his teeth. He'd always been wary of Jenny's father – the retired Army Colonel was the reigning Police Chief of Stillwater and its surrounding boroughs. He'd always been cordial to Gibbs, but Gibbs had never felt like Jasper Shepard liked him much – and now –
"How am I going to tell him?" sobbed Jenny.
Gibbs flexed his hand, and shook her leg.
"Jen," he said, clearing his throat. "Jen, you're not tellin' 'im alone – I'll tell him. I'll – marry you – "
"No," she moaned, reaching down – she didn't slap his hand away, though, she clutched it. "Please just – don't talk about that, don't talk about marrying me," she whispered.
That was another thing she couldn't handle – the idea that they'd have to actually face this, figure it out, do it. That this small town would expect a certain path – she'd be the talk of the town, and while she was trying to cope with this incomprehensible change in her life.
"I have to tell him – he won't think anything of me if it's not me, Jethro. He'll think I'm a coward."
"You're not tellin' him alone," snapped Gibbs tensely.
He felt like he was on the outside, and it nettled him. He had parents, too – did she think his equally disciplined, hard-ass old man was going to take this with a charmed smile on his face? Jackson Gibbs would be ready with a shotgun to do Shepard's dirty work – and his mother, his mother –
Jenny pushed her hair back again and rubbed her knees together, searching his face.
"What am I going to do?" she asked again.
Her throat felt so raw; her chest felt so tight. This didn't seem like something that happened to her, to real people – it was just a dramatic event for films, for sensational stories in health class – she couldn't be pregnant, she was going to travel the world, she was supposed to leave Stillwater –
"Shouldn't you be sayin' we?" Gibbs grunted tiredly.
She held her breath, and he looked up at her bitterly.
"You think I'm done with you, Jen?" he asked. The thought bothered him – maybe she was just stressed – she had the right to be more scared than he was, more of the weight would fall on her – but they had – they were young, and they were barely old enough to know what it meant –
"I'm not goin' anywhere," he muttered. He paused, and looked down warily. "We said we loved each other."
She could barely understand his mumbled words – but she heard them anyway; she remembered a bonfire in November, and a stolen moment on New Year's Eve – yes, he had said that, and she had, and they knew each other better than anyone else in the world –
"Yes," she choked out. "But," she stammered. "But – do we love each other enough for this?"
He looked over at her, and down at the ominous box in her lap. Staring at it, he felt the full weight of reality crash down on him – how old they were, the stifling smallness of their world, the daunting abyss of their future. It was the first time he doubted their relationship – because it was the first time he saw behind the next Saturday night at the drive in.
She closed her eyes and bent forward, burying her face in her hands. She held herself there a moment, hunched over, making herself small, and then she looked up, turning towards him. The box in her lap tumbled against her knees.
"I don't know what to do," she confessed shakily. "We need to talk," she gasped, "but … I…do we tell our parents first, or decide what to do?"
He lifted his shoulders.
"Decide what?" he asked roughly. He gestured at the box. "It's already decided – we're screwed, we fucked up, Jen!"
She bit her lip hard, and she opened her mouth.
"What if we – went somewhere, first, and then we – wouldn't have to tell them," she started desperately.
"No, Jenny," he interrupted harshly. "No – that girl in Benton died doin' that – "
"It's legal, though," Jenny hissed desperately, "and a doctor – maybe we could sneak to – Philadelphia, or – somewhere nicer – "
"I don't want you to get hurt!" he shouted angrily.
Something awful churned in his gut – he didn't want to mess around with that, not behind closed doors – he was scared, and he didn't want to deal with this, he didn't want it to be real – but he didn't want to take her somewhere and have her death on his hands.
"It costs money," he said desperately. "Jen, I can't get you that kinda money – not in time," he pleaded hoarsely. "Not before everyone noticed anyway."
She licked her lips again, and the idea left her head – the idea terrified her, the thought of something scraping inside of her, getting rid of the evidence – and then she'd have to live with that, and she'd never be able to tell her best friend, or her dad, and it was – it was some secret that was almost too big for her to fathom, in a black moment, she didn't know which was worse – getting rid of it, or having a baby.
"I can't have a baby, Jethro," she said, defeated. Her lips trembled. "I can't even drive a car."
He reached for her, hanging his arms over her shoulders. He tangled his fingers in her long red hair, setting his jaw.
"We got to tell 'em," he said warily. "We got to tell 'em, Jen."
She clutched at his hands, and nodded – she knew that; and maybe then they'd have some guidance – ironically, at this moment that told her she was – she might be – someone's mother – she felt more like a child than ever before; she needed her Dad, even if he disowned her – she needed parents, and she hated that she felt that way.
She took a deep breath.
"I want to tell your parents first," she said earnestly, trying to keep her voice steady. "Your mom – I need your mom. I want your mom to," she seemed to struggle – her own mother was in California; she'd divorced the Colonel when he left the army, and stayed in the last place he'd been stationed. "Your mom is our best bet," she said finally.
Gibbs nodded grimly – he dreaded the disappointed look in his mother's eyes, but Jenny was right; Ann Gibbs would be the gentlest voice, even if her voice was gentle with reproach – and if it was that, it would be all for her own son.
She nodded back, and then she seemed to sag into a heap, leaning forward. Her legs curled towards him, and the jewelry box in her lap toppled to the rocks at their feet. He lunged for it; but the porcelain smashed against the terrain and broke into several pieces; the plastic stick smacked into the dirt – glaring at them.
She gasped, a pained little noise – the jewelry box, brought to her from her father, from France; to remind her of the places she could go.
"My dad," she started, losing and then finding her voice again. "My Dad – is going to be so angry," she said faintly.
He knew she wasn't just talking about the box; she thought it was fitting, that the pretty thing was shattered around the proof of their mistakes, and she buried herself in his arms, there in a nook under the Stillwater covered bridge, and she wished she could go back to a night last summer in the barn, when they'd only ever gone to second base.
It wasn't a strange scene for Jenny to be loitering near the General Store's cash register as Jackson Gibbs close down the store; he was used to his son's girlfriend lingering as long as possible before running off home to barely make her curfew.
She sat on the counter; Gibbs leaned onto it next to her – neither of them were talking tonight, and Jackson thought it was suspicious that they hadn't been out at all – it was the weekend, after all – but he'd long learned if he tried to question Leroy's behavior, all he was going to get was an annoyed, vague grunt. The boy's mother could get much more out of him.
Ann Gibbs came down the stairs, carrying a box.
"Leroy," she called in her soft, sweet voice. "Come help me re-stock these – "
"I'll help you, Mrs. Gibbs."
Jenny jumped in and offered before Gibbs could straighten up.
Jackson looked over with an arched eyebrow. Gibbs caught Jenny's hand.
"Jen," he hissed, only audible to her.
"Let me go," she murmured back, flushing.
"Should you be - ?"
"I want to talk to her first," Jenny said desperately.
She pulled her hand out of his grasp, and he let her go, swallowing hard. He watched her stride over to his mother and take one of the boxes in her hands.
"You're such a dear, Jennifer – in the back, these candies go so quickly near Easter," Ann remarked lightly.
The boxes were full of differently coloured Peeps candy. Gibbs remembered sneaking a box or two from the store into his room back when he was a kid. He watched Jenny duck behind a row of shelves, and kept staring after them, even when he felt his father approach, glaring at him.
"Leroy," Jackson Gibbs grunted pointedly. "What's the matter with you two?"
Gibbs shrugged, still looking the other direction.
"Look at me when I'm talkin' to you, son," Jackson said quietly.
Gibbs looked at him. His father arched a brow.
"She mad atcha?" Jackson teased. "Havin' your first little lover's spat?"
Gibbs shrugged again. He shook his head silently.
"Then how come you two been hauntin' my store all night, instead of sneakin' off to Crenshaw's barn?" Jackson asked sharply.
Gibbs stared at him, hoping his face didn't show any surprise that his father knew they were always down there in that wide-open valley. He tilted his head stubbornly, and unstuck his jaw.
"Nothin's wrong," he said coolly.
Which was the exact opposite of the truth, but Gibbs wasn't about to out Jenny until she had decided she could handle it – hence the reason they'd waited another week since taking the test to say anything at all. She just hadn't been able to wrap her head around telling anyway, and he hadn't been able to wrap his head around it at all.
It had been a surreal, absurd week at school – both of them acting like everything was normal, and then walking on utter eggshells around each other when they were alone. He didn't want to say anything to make her doubt that he would stick with her, but he was really getting nervous about not doing anything.
"Isn't it about time for her to get home?" Jackson asked.
Gibbs looked over his shoulder at a clock on the wall.
Jenny's curfew, per her father's instructions, was nine on school nights, and ten-thirty when she didn't have school the next day. It was a little after ten. Gibbs had the distinct feeling she'd waited this long because she wanted to be able to run away as quickly as possible – he didn't blame her; he'd be stuck with his parents' reaction no matter what day, what hour.
Once she'd decided on today, it had been a long process of working up the courage – trying to figure out what to say. He hadn't understood why how she phrased it mattered so much – no matter what she said, or he said – they were dead.
"We've got a few extra," Ann said, coming out from the shelves with Jenny at her side. She beamed, and sat two boxes on the table next to Gibbs. "I know you still like them," she added, winking.
He looked down at the two boxes – pink Peeps, and blue Peeps. He looked up at Jenny, and she chewed her lip, standing much closer to Ann than she usually did.
"You want to hang around and push it a little?" Jackson asked Jenny with a wry smile. "I can drive you back home."
"Jackson," Ann said gently. "Jenny and Leroy want to talk to us."
Gibbs met Jenny's eyes; she must have wanted to warn Ann ahead of time. She was obviously more comfortable with Gibbs' mother. Jackson looked immediately at Gibbs, and narrowed his eyes. He said nothing, and then he cleared his throat and gestured to a large wooden table near the center of the store.
Ann patted Jenny's shoulder gently, and went to take a seat, stepping up next to her husband with a look.
"If this is about him wantin' to take her to that damn senior free for all, she's too young – "
"Jack, take a deep breath," Ann murmured.
Gibbs straightened and came around the counter, leaning close to Jenny.
"Did you tell her?" he asked warily, under his breath.
Jenny shook her head, biting her lip.
"No," she whispered back hoarsely. "But she knows."
Gibbs pulled out a chair for Jenny and looked over at his mother as he sat down. She stood behind Jackson, resting her hands soothingly on his shoulders – and he really only had to look at his mother for a minute to see what Jenny meant; there was no curiosity in her eyes, just a soft kind of sadness, worry.
He looked away from her immediately.
Jenny reached for his knee under the table. She'd said she wanted to be the one to tell his parents, but he didn't want her to do that anymore. He rubbed his hand over his mouth.
"Dad – " he started.
"Jethro, don't," Jenny muttered.
She gave him a look.
"You take the heat from my dad, I take it from yours," she reminded him tensely.
Jackson leaned forward.
"Spit it out," he said, his glare on Gibbs, rather than Jenny.
"Mr. Gibbs," Jenny began. "I'm…pregnant."
This time, Jackson did look at Jenny.
His wife's hand tightened pointedly on his shoulder, and Jackson stared at the young girl sitting across from him. He moved his head slightly, as if he hadn't heard, as if he needed it repeated. She bit her lip and shrank away from his gaze.
Jackson quit staring at her in a second. He stood up, reached across the table, and slapped his son firmly in the back of his head.
"What the hell did you do?" he growled.
Gibbs reached up and grabbed the spot on the back of his head, narrowing his eyes.
"I didn't – " he started.
His father slapped him again – a firm knock right at the base of his skull.
"You didn't do this to her?"
Gibbs pushed his chair back out of reach and straightened up defensively.
"It was him," Jenny said, a little unhelpfully – but really with the intention of preserving her reputation - she didn't want Gibbs' father thinking she'd been with other men.
"I didn't do it on purpose!" Gibbs snapped.
He leaned back again, watching his father warily.
"I hope to hell not!" Jackson barked.
"Jack," Ann said calmly. She shook his chair. "Sit back down."
"This ain't the time for sittin', Ann – "
"Sit down," she repeated, forcing him back down into his chair.
Jackson shoved his hand through his short hair and looked up at her.
"You knew about this?" he demanded.
She shook her head. She hadn't – she'd heard the first of it the same moment he did, but when Jenny had said that she wanted to talk to them, Ann couldn't think of anything else that two teenagers would want to sit their parents down about.
Jenny swallowed hard.
"I, um," she started, her voice shaking. "I wanted to tell you…I don't know how long I've been – or anything," she tried to get something coherent out. "It's just – Jethro said he'd tell my Dad, and I didn't want to … put it all on him – "
"It's on him," Jackson interrupted angrily.
He pointed a sharp finger at Gibbs.
"I told you not to get her into trouble," he snarled. "God dammit, Leroy, you should've been thinkin' with your head – "
"I said it wasn't on purpose!" Gibbs interrupted loudly, thrusting his hand out. "I didn't want to knock 'er up!"
"He didn't – Mr. Gibbs, he didn't make me do anything, and we were, well, we used – "
"I think you'd best start callin' me Jackson, Jennifer," he said to her tensely, "since he's got you in the family way."
She closed her mouth, and her eyes welled up.
Ann left Jacksons' side and dragged a chair up next to Jennifer, reaching out. She put her arms around her gently and took a deep breath.
"I have to be home by ten-thirty," Jenny said weakly.
Ann shook her head.
"I don't think it was the best idea to start this conversation so late, then," she said quietly. "You'll sit here for a bit, Jennifer. Jack," Ann looked up. "Call Chief Shepard," she ordered. "Tell him his daughter is helping me – with baked goods for tomorrow, I'll drive her home by," she paused, looking at them thoughtfully for a moment, "by eleven-thirty."
Her husband stared at her with annoyance for a moment, and then got up stiffly and disappeared to use the phone in the back of the store. Ann watched him a moment, and then turned to her son, still resting her arms around Jenny.
"You deserved to be smacked," she told Gibbs wryly.
She gave him a small, disappointed smile, and he looked down sheepishly. Ann sighed, and pushed Jenny's hair back.
"Please tell me the two of you tried to be careful?" she asked.
Jenny nodded, tears spilling out of her yes.
"Mrs. Gibbs, I promise," she swore. "I – my father would murder me if I asked for birth control, I'd never get to see Jethro anymore, and I was embarrassed, and I don't know – where or how, but we used – you know, condoms – "
Ann nodded quickly, indicating it was okay if Jenny didn't say any more. She didn't know if they'd just had bad luck, or hadn't been as responsible as they were pretending, but it didn't matter now.
"Leroy?" Ann asked. "You have anything to say?"
He looked at her warily – it felt like he was supposed to have some kind of scripted response to that, and he didn't. He hadn't had anything to say, or known what to do, since the moment she told him she thought she was pregnant.
He shifted and put his hand on Jenny's back protectively.
"I'm not gonna ditch her," he muttered seriously.
Jenny leaned into his touch.
Ann smiled cautiously.
"I would be very disappointed to hear my son say anything else," she said kindly – but she didn't want Leroy thinking this was going to be that simple. She looked between them. "What are you going to do?" she asked.
Jackson re-entered the room.
"Is my father angry?" Jenny asked immediately, her eyes wide. She wiped at her tears.
"No," Jackson said firmly.
The old Colonel hadn't been suspicious at all, and Jackson felt like scum for lying to another parent – especially with something like this on the table. He pulled out a chair and sat back down, lacing his fingers together and looking at the couple.
"They already made their decision, Ann," he said – he'd heard what she said as he came in. "You're gonna get a job, Leroy," he said curtly.
"I got a job," Gibbs said defensively.
"You're gonna get another one," Jackson said. "Babies aren't cheap. And we don't want you quittin' school, either," he said stiffly. "Neither of you – but you're gonna make sure she," he pointed emphatically at Jenny, "gets her diploma."
"Both of their diplomas are important," Ann said sharply. "Jackson," she added, with a hint of authority in her voice. "You don't get to make this decision for them," she added quietly.
"They're not legally old enough to make any decisions!" he retorted loudly. He looked at her a moment, and then shook his head sharply. "We're not takin' this girl to a butcher," he said.
Jenny winced. She closed her eyes.
"Hey," Gibbs burst out suddenly. "Stop talkin' about her like she's not here!"
"It's okay," Jenny said softly.
"No, it's not," barked Gibbs, standing up.
"Stop," snapped Ann. She reached past Jenny, and pushed Gibbs into his seat, and she shot a placating look at her husband. "We aren't making decisions for anyone," she said. "Jennifer's father is likely to want a say in this," she added pointedly.
Jenny put her face in her hands and moaned, dreading the conversation. Her cheeks flushed – her father had her on such a pedestal; he was going to think she was worthless when she told him about this. And – she didn't know what he'd want her to do –she was afraid he'd ban her from ever seeing Gibbs again.
She looked up, licking her lips.
"I want to go home," she said softly. She glanced at Gibbs. "I'm sorry, I – I want to be alone for a little bit."
Ann was the first to nod, and Gibbs shot his father an angry look.
"Do you want to tell your father tonight?" she asked.
Jenny swallowed stiffly, and shook her head.
"No, I – I can't do it again right now," she managed. She blinked, and wiped at her eyes again.
"I'll come over tomorrow," Gibbs spoke up. "Like we, uh – planned. After church."
Jenny chewed on her lip, and Ann stepped in.
"No," she said firmly. "Jennifer?" she asked. "Would you like me to be there with you?" she offered, ignoring her son's plan.
Jenny lifted her shoulders – she didn't know.
"I'll take you home tonight, sweetheart," Ann said calmly. "You'll invite your father over to Sunday dinner with us."
"Ann, I don't think you should interfere," Jackson began warily.
She shot him a warning look, and he quieted. She knew the old Colonel, she liked him well enough – he was an honorable man, and a good police chief – but he was proud, and he had a temper, and she wasn't sure she wanted Leroy and Jenny alone with him.
Jenny nodded, and Ann stood, gently coaxing Jenny with her.
"Thank you, Mrs. Gibbs," she said.
Ann smiled again, and led her towards the door, picking up Jackson's keys as she did so.
"Jackson is right," she said kindly. "It's best you call us by our first names."
Jenny wrapped her arms around herself and nodded. She turned, and gave a small wave to Gibbs as she was led out. Gibbs held his hand up, watching her until the General Store's door had closed with a little metallic jingle, and then he turned, projecting more bravado than he actually felt, to face his own father.
Gibbs scuffed the toe of his shoes against a spot of dirt near the shed, leaning against it as he watched Jenny pace back in forth in front of him. Their parents were talking inside – having drinks before dinner – presumably, the Colonel had no idea his daughter was in trouble, because Gibbs vague hopes that his mother would do the telling were dashed by his father's insistence that Gibbs take it like a man.
"Kinda weird," Gibbs grunted.
She stopped and looked at him, pursing her lips curiously. He grinned a little.
"Church," he snorted. "That preacher, talkin' about how that movie I took you to is…corrupting us."
"Footloose," Jenny supplied. "It was Footloose," she said faintly. "Weird?"
"Y'know," he muttered. "'Cause … I corrupted you."
She wrinkled her nose.
"I didn't have sex with you because of Kevin Bacon."
He arched his eyebrow, and then she laughed weakly, biting her lip. Gibbs shrugged.
"Still weird," he repeated. "Bein' in church, when you're …"
"Pregnant?" she said softly. She stepped closer, and put her hands on his waist. "Jethro, you can't even say it."
He didn't answer her. He scuffed his foot again. She licked her lips, and shrugged. She leaned forward and rested her head on his chest.
"I don't like church, anyway," she murmured secretively. "Do you?"
He shrugged.
"Never thought about it," he answered.
He just went because he went. Every Sunday, the Gibbs family went to Church – just like every other family in Stillwater, even the old Jewish couple that owned the deli. She had mentioned not liking it before.
"Don't you think it's stupid?" she asked quietly.
"What?" he asked.
"Church," she emphasized. "You know … going to hell for not doing everything exactly right? My mom is an atheist," she confided. She chewed her lip, and looked up at him. "You don't think I'm going to hell, do you?"
"Nah," he answered.
She smiled a little.
"I didn't think you'd convince me to sleep with you if you thought it would hurt my soul," she whispered. "You're too good."
He smiled at her. He shrugged. He definitely hadn't been thinking about what God wanted the first time he and Jenny had slept together. She leaned a little closer, and he touched her hip, running his thumb over the bone. She was still wearing her church clothes – a nice, neat, flattering dress.
Her stomach was still flat, toned with youthful thinness.
"What's your Dad gonna do to me?" Gibbs asked finally, his tone wary.
She shook her head, sighing. When she didn't say anything, he tried to cheer her up.
"Think he'll fight my old man on who gets to shoot me?" he joked dryly.
She tilted her head.
"Don't let anyone shoot you," she said. "I don't want to be alone with any of them."
Gibbs snorted.
"Hey, you got my mom," he assured her. He glanced up at the house, thinking of his mother – Ann never dwelt much on people's mistakes; she was all about positive forgiveness, and watching how they moved forward.
"I'm afraid Dad is going to send me to live with mine," Jenny said in a low voice.
Gibbs held her back a little, looking her in the eye.
"He can't send you away," he said gruffly, his eyes flashing. "What about my kid?"
Her eyes widened, and he swallowed hard.
"Oh my god," she said, burying her face in his chest. The way he said it – so bluntly, the fact that – he was going to have a baby, she was going to have a kid – it felt so startling.
"Jen," he said, swallowing again. "Look – he can't send you away, my Mom – Jesus, you think she'd put up with that?"
If he knew anything, he knew Ann Gibbs would not stand for her grandchild to be raised anywhere she couldn't be involved.
"My mom won't want me," Jenny said softly, crinkling her nose knowingly. "She only likes me in the summer – sister, not mother," she reminded him.
Jenny spent two weeks in the summer with her mother, and two weeks over winter holidays. It was all her mother had asked for in the divorce settlement, and all she seemed willing to put up with – at least when Jenny was younger. She was more interested in her now that she didn't have to be taken care of.
"HEY!"
A shout from the house sounded; Jackson Gibbs standing at the door, waving them in. Jenny stepped away, sighing, and Gibbs pushed off the shed, placing his hand on her lower back as he trudged in after her.
The Gibbs' house was set off behind the General Store and to the east, a little country house with a lot of additions made by Jackson's hand for Ann's benefit. Jenny slipped into the home, and Jackson grabbed Gibbs by the scruff of the neck.
"Didn't you learn your lesson about gettin' cozy?" he hissed, referencing their closeness near the shed.
Gibbs shook him off and gave him an obstinate shrug.
"What's the point now?" he asked smartly.
"Get in the house," growled Jackson, shutting the door behind them both.
"Leroy," the Colonel greeted, reaching out his hand.
"Sir," Gibbs said, shaking the hand firmly and sitting down at the dining room table. He pointedly scooted his chair slightly closer to Jenny's, and glanced at her as Ann came over with a neatly put together bowl of salad.
He arched his eyebrow – Jenny hadn't been able to decide if she wanted to tell him after dinner, or before. Jenny shook her head, and shrugged. She bit her lip nervously, and accepted a glass of lemonade from Ann.
"I was just askin' your parents if you're in some kind of trouble," the old Colonel said to Gibbs, leaning forward. "They tryin' to butter me up to get you off on some Junior-Senior wars crap?"
Gibbs, no stranger to having a few harmless run-ins with the local police force – mostly fighting, or silly pranks – smiled tightly, and shook his head.
"No, sir."
"Hmm," snorted the Colonel. "My daughter's always tellin' me she's a good influence on you. 'M still makin' up my mind about that."
Jenny bit her lip and looked pointedly at her glass of lemonade. She'd never be able to use that argument again – though her father liked Gibbs well enough, he'd liked him less once he started being Jenny's boyfriend rather than just her friend. Although – they had been friends for years before it turned into something else.
Jackson cleared his throat as Ann sat down and looked around.
"May I say grace?" she asked
Jenny looked up.
"No," she said, quite abruptly. "I want to talk first."
Gibbs looked at her, surprised. She turned to him, and lowered her voice.
"Praying makes me feel like a hypocrite," she hissed.
"You don't want to let him have one last meal?" Gibbs retorted without thinking, trying to save himself a few more hours of life.
Jenny bit her lip; Jackson sighed, and put his head in his hands.
Jasper Shepard looked around the table, and straightened up.
"What's going on?" he asked shortly, his eyes narrowing critically.
Something about staring him down, with Gibbs' family in the room, gave Jenny at least a little strength – she was exhausted from acting normal, and pretending everything was okay – and at least if she told him now, maybe Gibbs' mother could calm him down before he could work himself into whatever horrifying reaction was coming.
Gibbs cleared his throat.
"Sir," he began – wondering if this was how Jenny had felt when she stared down his parents. "Sir, Jenny's – "
"I'm pregnant," she said hoarsely, cutting him off. "I got pregnant."
Gibbs clamped his mouth shut.
Jasper Shepard's eyes moved slowly to his daughter, and he looked her over, as if he hadn't heard what she had said. She watched his silent observation, holding her breath, and she leaned forward earnestly.
"Daddy," she began. "I said – "
He held up his hand.
"I heard you, Jennifer," he said, in a dangerously quiet voice.
He sat back, his hands resting stiffly on the table. He clenched them into fists. A very quick, subtle glance at both of Gibbs' parents told him they had already been informed, and he grit his teeth. For a proud man like the Colonel – being the last to know, in a room full of people who did, was a very undesirable turn of events.
Jenny reached for Gibbs' hand under the table and squeezed it. He tried to think quickly, tried to think of something to say to – save her, or make the situation even a little bit more bearable.
"I have a job, Chief," he said quickly, his voice determined. "I – " he stopped. He didn't want to say he loved Jenny in front of everyone - -but maybe the Colonel would like hearing that?
Shepard didn't even look at Gibbs, though.
"You damn well better have a job," he said coldly.
Neither of Gibbs' parents spoke up for him. Jackson cleared his throat, a piercing glare on his son. Ann reached out to touch Jenny's hand.
"We thought it best if we had a chance to discuss this," she began.
Shepard pushed his chair back, flexing his hands.
"I appreciate that, Ann," he said curtly. He stood. "If you don't mind, I'll be taking my daughter home."
He straightened his shoulders and looked at her pointedly, waiting for her to get up. She opened her mouth, and then closed it, squeezing Gibbs' hand under the table again. Ann stood up, swooping in with a placating look. She placed her hand on the Colonel's shoulder.
"Jasper," she said smartly, "We aren't – exactly happy with Leroy, either," she said frankly. "I want you to know that we like Jennifer very much, and we don't think less of her – "
"Thank you," Shepard said stonily, interrupting. "Jennifer," he said sharply. "Get up."
It didn't seem Ann's gentle words changed his mind. Jennifer got up, licking her lips. She took a deep breath and avoided Gibbs' parents' eyes, and she gave him a scared look. He looked unreadable enough that she composed herself a little.
"Ann, Jackson," she said shakily. "Thank you for dinner."
Her words felt silly, since no one had actually eaten a thing. Her father waited stoically, and then pointed her towards the door. He turned to Jackson Gibbs, nodded curtly, and slipped out of Ann's grasp, all without looking at his daughter's boyfriend.
Ann sat down heavily, and leaned over to touch her son's hand.
"You can't blame him too much," she said.
Jackson Gibbs snorted, and gave his son a reprimanding, cold glare.
"You're lucky that man didn't tar and feather you on the spot."
Gibbs got up and left the table, pushing his chair aside violently, and Ann shot a mildly annoyed look at her husband, and put her hand to her forehead tiredly.
She had never felt so along and so uncomfortable in her own house.
Her father hadn't spoken to her on the short drive home – they lived in a spacious, very nice home in more rustic, historical part of town – nearer to the main roads so Shepard could more easily get to the County police station for work.
He'd chosen Stillwater to retire in, when he'd left the military and sought out the police Chief position, because he'd grown up here, and he loved Pennsylvania.
The Colonel slammed the door when they got to the house, and he pointed to the living room.
"Sit," he ordered.
She felt like he was back in the military, and she'd inadvertently signed up for boot camp. She swallowed and sat down, wildly wishing she'd refused to leave and stayed at Gibbs' house. Her father's quiet rage wasn't what she had expected; it was worse.
He made noise in the kitchen, and she guessed he was in there pouring himself a stiff drink. She felt like she sat on that couch forever, staring at the fireplace, when he finally came in and stood in front of her, his hands behind his back.
"You're pregnant?" he asked curtly.
She wrapped her arms around herself.
"Yes…sir," she said, her eyes stinging.
"How long have you known?" he demanded levelly.
She licked her lips.
"A week," she said definitely – she didn't tell him she'd been worrying for a month. He'd probably put a belt to her if he knew she'd been impractical enough to wait to confirm.
"You chose to tell me this in front of Leroy's parents?" he asked sharply. "You chose to tell his parents first?"
"Dad," she began hoarsely, desperately. "I was scared – "
"You're damn right you were scared," he interrupted.
He looked at her stonily, his face harsh and unforgiving. Then, he put his hand to his face, and he moved to sit down in an armchair, leaning forward heavily on his knees.
"You are fifteen years old, Jennifer," he said roughly.
She bit the inside of her cheek, and nodded.
"I know," she said quietly. "I'll be … sixteen in a month."
"You think sixteen is old enough to have a baby?"
She fell silent. Of course she didn't. But she hadn't meant to get pregnant.
"I told you he was too old for you."
"He's barely a year older than me, Daddy!" she burst out, annoyed. "And we've known each other since you took me out of Benton!"
When her father had first retired, and they'd moved back to Stillwater, she had been going to school in one of the other County areas. She hadn't liked it; she'd wanted to switch – it was in seventh grade, that she'd moved, and met Gibbs.
"I knew he would be trouble," Shepard said harshly. "You let him turn your head – let him ruin your future – "
"It's not like he raped me!" she yelped defensively.
She sucked in her breath and bit her lip – she didn't know which was worse: letting her father think Gibbs had manipulated her, or telling him she'd wanted it just as much.
The Colonel looked at her sharply, and then gave a stiff nod – he had to acknowledge that. She felt herself crash down from her pedestal instantly, and she felt like he was looking down at her from a great height.
"Jennifer," he said angrily, but quietly. "You were supposed to go to college – you didn't want to stay here for the rest of your life – "
"My life isn't that destroyed, it's not – I can still –"
"You get something straight right this second, Jennifer Shepard," her father interrupted harshly, "your life, from this moment, comes unequivocally second to an infant. Your life is no longer your life. It belongs," he said firmly, jerking his thumb at her middle, "to that baby."
She bit her lip so hard; she drew blood. She colour drained from her face. She knew that – she had known that, in an abstract way, since the moment she saw the positive test – but he had put it into words.
Her father was looking at her seriously, and he moved his jaw tensely, arching his brows.
"Unless you were planning on something different?" he asked icily. "I had assumed if you were going to get rid of it, you would go behind my back with Gibbs."
"I," she started, stammering. "I – Dad, I didn't want to go behind – I thought I'd ask you what to do. I need you to tell me – "
"I told you not to get in any trouble," he interrupted. "You blew me off. You acted rashly. You got yourself pregnant. You thought you were old enough to handle this, clearly – "
"I'm not, I didn't think that!" she cried desperately. "I didn't want this to happen!"
"You shouldn't be having sex if you're not old enough or prepared enough to deal with the consequences," he said flatly.
"Not everyone who has sex gets pregnant – "
"Considering your situation, Jennifer, that argument is completely irrelevant."
He couldn't seem to let her finish a sentence. He put his hands together and fell silent again, and then he stared at her.
"What did you think I would tell you to do?" he asked quietly.
She pushed her hair back, and shook her head.
"I thought you'd kill Jethro," she said in a small voice. "He said – I mean, he said he'd marry me," she laughed hysterically.
"You are fifteen years old."
"Dad, I know – will you stop reminding me how old I am?" she asked harshly. "I don't want to get married – I don't want any of this. I still want to go to college, I still want to get out of this town – "
"You should have thought about that before you ruined your life," her father said mechanically.
"There's nothing to do in this small town!" she yelled. "Maybe you shouldn't have settled down in some hillbilly place when I spent the first years of my life moving around with you!"
He considered her silently.
He considered her for such a long time, she wondered if he'd forgotten she was there at all. She wanted nothing more than to lock herself in her room, and call Jethro, and cry for hours. She wondered what his parents were doing to him right now.
"If you think boredom is an excuse for this," he began finally, his voice low, "you are not the girl I thought I raised."
"Dad," she said hoarsely, her voice cracking.
Tears started slipping down her cheeks. He cleared his throat.
"Are you going to ask me to let you get an abortion?" he asked, ignoring her.
She bit her lip. She remembered her panicked conversation with Gibbs by the bridge, Gibbs' father, insisting they wouldn't take her to a butcher – even with it right in front of her, she didn't know if it was a real option. She didn't feel like it was.
He misinterpreted her silence.
"I will not pay for it," he said flatly. "I will not allow Ann and Jackson Gibbs to pay for it. You will get that boy to pay for it, or you will pay for it."
"I don't have a job," she said weakly, too confused about her feelings to answer the real question.
The look on his face said everything: that was the point. She was fifteen, and pregnant – she couldn't fathom paying for an abortion; how could she imagine having a child.
"They're – they're – seven hundred dollars," she said huskily. "I can't – Gibbs said he can't make that much, before – "
There were restrictions, on how late you could get them – and she didn't even know how far along she was. She felt sick, felt like she couldn't breathe; she didn't think she wanted to do it. She just didn't – the thought scared her. She didn't want to have a baby – but, she did love Gibbs, and – it had happened to people before.
"I don't much like the idea of you taking the easy way out of your mistakes," her father said, with a careless shrug.
She compressed her lips, and lowered her eyes, looking down at her hands.
"I can't believe you think that would be easy," she whispered unhappily.
She stared at her hands for a long time, and then she looked up.
"I think I need you to take me to a doctor," she said vaguely, softly. "Maybe the test was wrong?"
Her father stood up. She felt him glaring at her; she knew he thought her statement was stupid, and she shrank away.
"I think you should go to bed," he said tiredly. "I'll speak with you in the morning," he paused, "and you'll call your mother in the morning."
She swallowed hard.
"I have school," she said.
He shook his head slightly.
"You'll be out for the next few days," he said curtly. "While we discuss this."
She stared at him as he left the room. She heard him in the kitchen again, and she looked around uncertainly – she figured she was free to go, and he hadn't told her not to leave the room. She bit her lip and got up, heading for the stairs.
"Jennifer," he called mildly from the kitchen.
She paused on the staircase, listening.
"I hope that boy means it when he says he's going to take care of you," Shepard said tightly. "Your life is about to get very hard."
She stood frozen to the spot for a moment, and then she forced herself up the stairs. She closed her bedroom door tightly, reached for her phone, and breathed in deeply a few times while she dialed his number, praying he answered instead of one of his parents – she had to tell him she wouldn't be in school, and she didn't know what her father was going to do – or make her do – or what they were going to do.
Columbia County's Chief of Police was getting into his squad car when Gibbs walked up his drive, and seeing the boy, he paused, leaning on the car. He held his keys in his hand, scrutinizing the kid intently. He was impressed that Gibbs didn't look away – it was gutsy, or maybe just a little stupid.
"I brought her homework," Gibbs said, without greeting.
It was Thursday; her father had kept her out of school for three days, and Gibbs' parents, after speaking with him on the phone, had told him sharply to stay away and not interfere until the Colonel allowed it.
Being a little rash, and bull-headed, today Gibbs had decided to ignore that. Jenny was smart, the top of her class – he didn't want her to fall behind because of him.
Shepard looked at the books under his arm, and nodded curtly. He knew his daughter had been calling Gibbs, and he knew she'd told him that they'd gone to a doctor in Scranton. He didn't say anything about that; it was Jennifer's right to tell him.
"You can go in," he said finally. He gave the kid a dry smirk. "I'd worry about leaving the two of you alone, but you can't do any more damage."
Without another word, the Colonel waved Gibbs aside, and got into his car – leaving him in the driveway. Gibbs watched him leave, and then let himself into the house – Jenny was always trusted to be alone on the days when her father worked night shift; she'd taken advantage of that trust.
He went upstairs and knocked on her door. He waited, knocked again, and then she answered, and he opened it. She was laying in bed with her back to him, and he came in and placed her books on the table.
"Brought your homework," he said quietly, clearing his throat.
She turned over, and sat up, pushing her hair back. She looked tired, and her eyes were red, and she was dressed in a Army t-shirt, and cotton shorts. She drew one knee up and rubbed it, smiling at him shakily.
He put his hands in his pockets.
"Are people talking?" she asked. "At school?"
He shook his head, and shrugged.
"Why would they? Just figure you're sick," he said.
Their parents sure as hell weren't spreading rumors, and since Jenny hadn't even told her best friend – there was no way anything had gotten around – yet. He stared at her in silence for a moment, then looked down at the books, and clenched his teeth.
"Your dad, uh – took you to some … specialist?" he ventured. He looked up." In Scranton?" he prompted.
She licked her lips and inhaled slowly, nodding.
"I wanted to, um, find out, some things," she said tiredly. "You know … and he … he was on that case, with the girl who got an illegal one, and died, and he knows there's a good doctor," she trailed off.
She pushed her hair back.
"He made me tell my mom; she said she'd pay for it…. He didn't want," she broke off again, frustrated.
"What did your mom say?" Gibbs muttered.
Jenny laughed weakly.
"She was shocked but … she said that's what happens to small town girls," she told him, rolling her eyes. "I wish she cared more."
Gibbs nodded. He came closer, and leaned against her desk. He finally looked up at her.
"You…okay?"
She swallowed hard a few times, and when she finally opened her mouth, he could barely hear her.
"I didn't do it," she choked. "I couldn't – it's still early enough, but I just," she shook her head, closing her eyes tightly. "I couldn't. I was too scared. I know that sounds insane, because we can't … I don't want a baby but … I didn't want that, either. And maybe it would be easier, but my Dad … he can't look at me, and he didn't want me to, I know, and I just …" she stopped, and tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling. "It might not be so bad, right?" she asked desperately.
Gibbs clenched and unclenched his fist, watching her.
"My, uh, parents," he started, "they – didn't like that idea, either," he admitted.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, he didn't either. Even if his knee-jerk reaction was to wish it all away – he didn't think, and she didn't think, that there had ever been any real question of what they were going to do. This was a small town, and the values were conservative, and it just wasn't something girls in trouble did – not now.
She lowered her head, and shrugged.
"Dad says I can't get married until I have a diploma," she said in a small voice. "I have to get a job – I don't think he'll be much help, but your Mom – I don't know, maybe your mom can help and, um – "
Gibbs moved closer. He sat next to her on her bed and put his arm around her, shaking his head.
"Shh," he muttered thickly. "Jen, we'll just – we'll figure it out," he said hoarsely – he didn't believe himself, but he said it anyway.
"He might try to make me go live with my mother," she said, wiping at her eyes. "I don't want to be alone, Jethro – "
"Jen, he won't," Gibbs said. "He can't – my Mom'll talk him out of that," he said dryly. "She's already … accepted it, you know how she is. She wants the damn thing."
"It's not a thing," Jenny whispered.
He nodded.
"My father is going to take you to court," she admitted softly. "He's not – it's not against your family … he just … even if he trusts your family, thinks you're okay, he wants support in writing."
Her face flushed. Gibbs didn't say anything – he didn't know anything about that, but it sounded like something his father would agree to, as well. He wanted to say that didn't matter, he'd do what he had to, anyway. He wasn't ready to be a father – he wasn't ready for anything about adulthood, but he wouldn't abandon Jenny.
"I'm done with school next year," he said gruffly. "You know I been thinkin' about joinin' the Marines, that'll support you, then we can get married when you're out – and then, you know, that G.I. bill, you can still go to college – "
"I don't want you to go away," she broke in. "I'll still be in high school, and then I'll really be alone – and you could die – "
"Jen, I got to do somethin' – "
"Can we just talk about that later?" she asked desperately.
She had always thought his idea of joining the Marines, of using that to get out of Stillwater, away from his hard-to-please father, was romantic; she liked men in uniform, she'd like it if he did that, and she'd meet him all over the world when she was done with college – but all of that seemed silly now.
She leaned into him, and repeated what she'd said in the barn, weeks ago:
"I'm so scared, Jethro."
He rested his forehead against hers, tightening his grip.
"Nothing's ever going to be the same," she whimpered.
"I'm gonna take care of you, Jenny," he swore.
She reached out for him, curling her body into his.
"I'm ruined," she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut – she felt that way when her father looked at her, when he spoke to her – when she thought of how her life would be from now on.
He shook his head.
"I don't think you're ruined," he said huskily.
She shifted her head and kissed him on the lips, her eyes still closed – maybe in a few days, she could get a better grip on this, on herself. He thought maybe once it had calmed down, and settled in, they could plan – but he didn't really know what was going to happen, and neither did she; the only thing that was certain was that their lives were going to change, and in a few months, the whole town would have something to whisper about it.
"Yeah these days, the rabbit doesn't die;
You just sit around waitin' on two pink lines."
-Eric Church; Two Pink Lines
-so, what this story will be is four "parts" each five chapters each (the last one MAY need six, or at least a stand alone epilogue). some of my readers voted to do it this way so they could get the story quicker. this is the first part: a.k.a. "Stillwater High." that was the working title and i never really came up with a better one. feedback is super appreciated, as always - but especially on this!
-alexandra
p.s. - this story is really ushering in a new era ... i graduate from college today!
story#262