The pain was still as fresh and as raw as it had been when the events had occurred. When Gibbs had walked into that diner, he'd expected to see his Director arguing furiously with paramedics or ready to bite his head off for disobeying orders and coming along to Los Angeles. Hell, he'd have loved for either of those to be the case. Unfortunately, it wasn't even close. The one possibility he'd never even considered as more than his worst nightmare was exactly what had occurred.
Gibbs had walked into that diner expecting to see her glaring at him angrily, her emerald eyes flashing dangerously. Instead he'd found his agents coming to meet him outside. Choosing to ignore their faces, he entered the diner and his heart stopped. Blue eyes darkened as they landed on the little cards where a name he was far too familiar with had been scrawled hastily. As Vance spoke, he barely heard the man.
He couldn't even have listened if he wanted to. It was finally hitting him…Jenny Shepard, fiery redheaded, bad tempered, she-devil that he'd fallen head over heels for was dead.
The next countless hours passed in a haze. Before he knew it, he found himself at her home.
Her presence lingered, her perfume still strong in the air. The letter he'd found with only two words scrawled on it, Dear Jethro, was not the only thing he pocketed before burning her home to the ground. No, he went room to room, taking some of her favorite things. He needed to remember her, he could not allow himself to lose any detail about her; the smell of her perfume, the way her nose crinkled when she laughed, how her right eye twitched when she lied, or even the face she'd made when he'd first given her a glass of bourbon. Love was about remembering the little things.
Digging in her jewelry box, he pulled a familiar article from it. A promise ring, he'd given her many years ago in Paris, one he'd been sure she'd have gotten rid. A tear threatened to escape the confines of his steely blue eyes as he fingered the ring before slipping off the dog tags he'd taken to wearing. With a tenderness that only proved how much he'd loved the owner of the silver band, Gibbs slipped it onto the chain that already held two rings beside his dog tags; Shannon's engagement ring and her wedding ring.
When he finally set a lit match to that house, he felt a part of himself go up with it yet he controlled his emotions.
It was not until he'd reached the solace of his basement and had knocked down quite a generous portion of bourbon that he allowed the tears to finally escape. There was no point in holding them back; Leroy Jethro Gibbs was a broken man and he doubted he'd ever mend.
***********Author's Note**********
Don't kill me? That would be great. I had to get the sad stuff out of my system but just so you know I plan on a sequel to this called 'Mended' and it will be much happier. This kinda sets the scene. You'll like the other one….well you should if you didn't like this one….