Disclaimer; I own nothing, unfortunately. 'Cause obviously if I did, Jen would be alive ;) And thus, I don't own NCIS. Because she's clearly dead on the show. Boo...

Author's note; On a happier note- I do own Jay 3 You'll all see more of him in later chapters. This is an AU, obviously- since, you know, there's Jay, and Jen's living. Read, and review ;) Enjoy.


What if she doesn't come through…? There was no way. They had planned this, make everyone believe she was dead- deal with the cancer, stay in hiding. Of course- there had never been a flaw in the plan until she'd actually been shot…

Ducky waited patiently at the bedside, slipping in and out of consciousness. He'd been there for hours- maybe even a full day and a half. He stifled a yawn and stood, inspecting the unconscious woman in a drug-induced sleep. She'd apparently woken and been just fine- but groggy. When they brought her back to the room, she'd been soundly sleeping again. "I do hope you wake up soon, my dear." He said quietly, brushing a lock of reddish blond hair from her forehead. He turned and picked up his jacket, pausing near the door when he heard her move and say something. He stared intently, wondering if maybe she was talking in her sleep.

She shifted slowly, hissing at the extreme pain in her shoulder and trying to make an effort to look at it. She couldn't move, she felt so heavy. Everything felt so heavy. She didn't even want to open her eyes. She felt dizzy and drugged. She tried to lift her right arm but the pain near her shoulder stopped her from doing that. She groaned softly at the white stars that danced in her blurred vision from the pain in her arm as she opened her eyes. She looked down, moving her fingers slowly and feeling slightly relieved she could at least do that much. She tried to move her legs, but they felt so heavy too. She felt like she had a ton and a half of lead under every inch of her skin.

She looked up, and saw someone at the door but she couldn't quite make him or her out. "Ducky?" She tried to speak, but her throat and her mouth felt so dry so her voice was merely a raspy croak. She cleared her throat weakly, struggling and desperate to speak. "Ducky, is that you?" She asked quietly, lifting her left arm slowly. It took her arm a few moments to catch up with her brain and she finally moved, rubbing her eyes.

"Ah, Jennifer. I was wondering when you would decide to wake up." He said quietly, walking over to the bed edge and setting his coat down once more. "How are you feeling?"

"Drugged." She admitted, weakly moving her good hand through her hair and tugging a lock of it curiously, looking up. Why was her hair this short? She shook her head slightly, taking a deep, slow breath and dropping her hand to her side again. "Where is Jay?" She asked quietly, opening her eyes slowly and glancing over at the man sharing her current personal space.

So far, she seemed normal but there was something… that didn't seem quite right. "He is in bed, more than likely sleeping peacefully." He said softly, reassuring her that her son was just fine. "He will be staying with me until you're alright to leave here. How is your arm?"

"Hurts like a bitch. What the hell happened?" She asked, looking up at him curiously.

"You were shot, my dear. It wasn't part of the plan, and I wasn't quite sure you'd make it through for a while." He admitted sheepishly, frowning slightly. It had to be the shock of it- maybe the blood loss. People who were in gunfights often had temporary amnesia.

"Where's Jethro?" She asked, suddenly full of questions now that she was awake.

"You know he thinks you're dead. That was part of the plan; make everyone believe you were dead so we could…" His brow furrowed in concern when he realized what it was that seemed off. "What year is it?" He asked, wondering if maybe she had it worse than he'd suspected.

"'99, why would you ask me that? Isn't there a calendar around here?" She asked, raising an eyebrow, "I know you're not that young Ducky, but I know you're not senile." She gave him a particularly odd look, reaching up to weakly scratch at the tube across her face, which she hadn't noticed until that moment. She heaved a small sigh, wincing at the hot pain that coursed through her arm and shoulder.

"Nineteen…ninety-nine?" He repeated slowly, face falling into a slightly worried expression. "Oh dear."

Jen raised an eyebrow, wondering what had gotten into him. "Ducky? Something wrong?" She asked impatiently.

"It's just… That it's two thousand and eight." He said slowly, concern darkening his features a little more when she looked confused by this information.


*Phoof*?