Author's note:
Another OC makes a re-appearance in this chapter.
Jenny's friend, Pat.
Jenny's apartment, Naples
January 8th, 1999
2100
Watching drops of rain splash against the window, Jen wondered how long it would be before she allowed herself to cry.
Her head ached.
Echoing with the voice of her insecurities whispering to her.
There was no reason to be alone. Pacci had called and Callen had stopped by, yet she felt completely isolated. Refusing to allow anyone near until she'd worked out the crisis in her head. Hurting herself with thoughts about what her colleagues thought of the fact that Decker had been working behind the scenes to get her a promotion.
Whether they believed what they'd overheard Jethro say.
She shivered as he crossed her mind.
She'd never realized just how damp her living room was until now, and in some obscure way it was the perfect metaphor for her relationship with Jethro.
Uncomfortable. Chilly.
Lonely.
He hadn't made any effort to contact her – and she hadn't had the heart or the guts to do it herself. She wasn't sure what it meant, for either of them, but there was an ache inside which even alcohol hadn't dulled.
At least not yet.
A sharp knock at the door made her almost jump out of her skin, and she berated herself as the hope that Jethro was on the other side flooded her system.
"Open up, Jen. I know you're in there."
She opened the door, slowly.
"Hey .."
Pat was looking back at her with amusement in her eyes.
"You know it wouldn't kill you to look happy to see me," she said as she swept past her into the kitchen. "What's going on? I thought you were coming down to the bar on the docks tonight."
"Want something to drink?"
"Hey ... deflecting only works with wannabe homo sapiens," Pat said as she opened the fridge and helped herself to a beer. "So .."
"I have a headache."
"Yeah yeah," Pat said as she pulled out a bottle opener. "And NCIS gets its real estate tips from camels. Come on, spill ..."
"There's nothing to spill." Jenny watched her carefully. More than aware that she had to tread carefully. She liked Pat, but not enough to confide in her. "I'm just tired. It's been a long coupla days."
"So you looking like crap has nothing to do with that son of a bitch," Pat said as she raised herself onto the counter. "Or that other son of a bitch," she said after she'd taken a long sip.
"How much have you had to drink?" Jenny asked with a small smile.
"Coz Calhoun's about ready to fleece 'em both," Pat carried on as though she hadn't heard, "and Chuck's none too pleased with them either. Scuttlebutt is that Pacci told G-"
She stopped abruptly when the phone started ringing.
"You gonna take that or what?" she asked after three rings.
Jenny tried to cover up the tremor in her hand as she answered. Hoping against hope that it was Jethro and simultaneously terrified that it might be.
"Jen .." Disappointment rippled through her as she realized that it was Decker at the other end of the line.
"Who is it?" Pat hissed as she moved close. "Gibbs?"
"Decker," Jen mouthed silently as she covered the lower part of the phone.
"Ask him where he is," Pat called as she wandered into the bedroom.
Jen turned her attention back to the man at the other end of the line reluctantly.
"You got company?" he asked.
"Pat's here."
"Havin' a girls' night in?"
"No, she .."
"I'm sorry Jenny," he interrupted. Clearly eager to get his apology off his chest and have things go back to what passed as normal between them. "I shouldn't have gone off on you like that yesterday. It's just … damn it Jen, you had Lewis eating out of your hand and he's one tough man to impress."
Jen sighed.
She really didn't want to talk about this anymore.
"No hard feelings?" Decker was saying when Pat appeared in the doorway with a dress in each hand.
"No hard feelings," she said as she shook her head vehemently at her friend.
"Wanna go out for a drink?"
"I ..um .."
She was thinking about ways to refuse when suddenly she realized that refusal would be stupid.
It was the perfect occasion to take Decker up on his offer of a drink and not have to be alone with him.
"Where are you, Will?" she asked with enthusiasm she didn't necessarily feel. "We're coming down to meet you."
It made no sense to stay home on the offchance that Jethro might call.
Jethro's apartment
Gibbs pushed the food around on his plate.
"Out with it," he mumbled after a particularly long stretch of silence.
Ducky laughed. "Isn't that my line?"
"You tell me."
Ducky had shown up at his door an hour earlier, and hadn't stopped watching him through concerned eyes.
"Did you get any sleep last night?"
"That why you're here? To check up on me?" He tossed his head sharply. "Slept fine."
"Have you spoken to Jenny at all since she got back?"
Apparently the time for small talk was over, Gibbs thought; the bitterness in his mental voice surprising him.
"Saw her at the office."
"You exchanged three words. And it wasn't much of an exchange either, if memory serves."
"She's got a few days off," Gibbs answered as he abandoned all attempts at eating.
"Has that ever stopped you before?"
"What's your point, Duck?"
"I'm asking whether you intend to speak to her, or whether you plan to wait until she comes back to work and you will have no choice but to speak to her."
"Nothing to talk about."
"Nothing to talk about," Ducky mimicked as a look of disdain traversed his features. "She put her career on the line for us, Jethro."
"Yeah, heard all about that," Gibbs replied as he started to walk towards the sink with the dirty dishes.
"She deserved a lot better than 'good job, Shepard' and having to listen to you mouth off at Decker, and you know it."
Gibbs dropped the plates on the counter and whirled around.
"She's green, Duck. Needs work. Not ready for anything but field word. Under supervision."
"Under your supervision."
"She's on my team. My responsibility."
Ducky looked at him for a moment, and then picked up his hat and coat.
"Jethro ..." he began warily.
"Don't wanna hear it, Duck."
"I understand that subconsciously you want to keep her close, but don't keep her too close .. because you will lose her."
When he had gone, Gibbs pulled a bottle of bourbon out of the cupboard and helped himself to a glass as his thoughts pulled him in a hundred different directions.
He'd lied through his teeth. Hadn't slept well at all.
He'd spent the morning at the firing range; trying to dispel the anger that way.
It hadn't worked.
He'd cleaned his weapons after that.
And by the time he was done with the apartment he could have eaten dinner off floor.
Laundry, ironing, replenishing his 'go bag'.
Anything and everything to keep his mind from wandering where it shouldn't.
To the look of anticipation and subsequent hurt in Jen's eyes when he'd seen her in the office.
He wasn't ready to feel bad about what he'd done.
Or what he'd said.
She was green. She was impulsive, and she didn't think things through.
There was much he still needed to teach her and he'd be damned if he was going to let a few hurt feelings get in the way.
She'd have to suck it up the way all of the other agents he'd trained had.
The way he'd sucked it up.
At Parris Island, at Camp Lejeune, with Mike Franks.
He needed something to occupy his mind, he thought as he refilled the glass for the third time.
A walk along the docks in the dark of night might not be safe for anyone else, but he needed the busyness of keeping watch.
To keep his thoughts from overwhelming him.
He was out the door before he could change his mind.