Author's Note:I don't own anything! I had the idea for this story after last night's episode. I know it is a figure of speech, but how exactly does Gibbs know what a French whorehouse smells like? I think a nice one-shot flashback story can explain everything!
"It smells like a French whorehouse in here..."
Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs to Jimmy Palmer, Mother's Day, Season Seven
Jethro heaved a sigh and got back on the elevator. So far all they had was evidence that didn't add up, and Ducky's most recent findings added to that. It was just a figure of speech he reminded himself. "French whorehouse." The phrase resonated through his mind. It did beg the question however. How exactly did Jethro know what a French whorehouse smelt like? If ever there was a time for daydreaming now was it. He jerked the elevator to a halt and slowly sank down to the floor. He leaned his head against the wall of the elevator and closed his eyes. He thought about Joann Fielding. She was lying, or at the very least holding something back. Jethro wasn't exactly sure yet, his uncanny instincts clouded by memories of Shannon, Kelly and the past they had all shared. It had been great...until the day Jethro had gotten transferred. Joann was upset to say the very least. Shannon had taken the news a bit better, knowing that California could be a good opportunity for their young family. She was still sad to leave her family behind but the move was for the best. Joann had come to terms with it eventually, but was still slightly bitter over the turn of events.
It had been so long ago...after all, but he had read somewhere in one of McGee's science magazines that scent was a powerful tool when it came to memories. The human brain was hard-wired to remember scents and memories associated with them. Jethro almost choked when he thought of it like that. The jumbled scents of a dozen perfumes, the acrid smell of perspiration, and clouds of cigar smoke. A dark summer night in Paris. He walked the streets alone that night, petulant, worried about how it would all go down in the end. His expression was both pained and coy at the same time. He had to wait for the appointed hour. The hour of desperation, the one that the madams trained all the girls to recognize. The hour of desperation couldn't be found on any timepiece, but only in a man's face. The countenance of a man so starved, deprived and longing that he would resort to such an establishment. That was after all, how the women made their money.
Jethro did as he had been instructed. Dressed in a Navy blue pinstriped suit and silk tie he wandered the streets aimlessly, and returned to the lobby of his hotel shortly before midnight. He knew at that hour the desk clerk was very aware of who was entering and exiting the hotel. He walked over to the elevator and let out a loud sigh before hitting the up button. The doors opened and Jethro hesitated before heading back to the front desk.
"Ah! Monsieur Lewis...what may I do for you this evening?" The clerk asked politely as Jethro stood at the marble counter.
"Sleeping troubles." Jethro grumbled in a low voice.
"Ah I have just the thing...several fresh pillows, hot tea and you'll be good as new...sent up immediately." Jacques said as he reached for the phone to dial guest services.
"The kind that can't be cured with tea." Jethro said in a low voice as he averted his eyes.
"I see...it is not uncommon, especially among you businessmen who travel so much." Jacques said it as if it were nothing, as if he were accustomed to directing his guests to brothels, and truth be told he was.
"On the Rue de Vivienne...house number 13." Jacques whispered in a low voice.
"Paper money only." The desk clerk added with a wink as he smiled at Jethro.
Jethro thanked Jacques and headed back out onto the street. For the distance it was Jethro really should have taken a taxi, but he needed to clear his head. He thought of Jenny. If only she could be here with him... he knew she would have loved the night sky, the stars, the Eiffel Tower shining in the distance but instead he sighed heavily as he turned up the Rue de Vivienne and walked to house number 13.
"Come in!" A delicate voice cooed in accented English.
"An American!" An older woman said in surprise as she opened up the door. She was in her late fifties or early sixties, but was dressed like a Vegas showgirl anyhow. A skintight Zebra print dress clung to her, and Jethro realized that the poor dress didn't have much to cling to. The woman was without shape or form, and she was very thin. Her blond hair was teased and hair sprayed, and she wore a garrish shade of blue eyeshadow and blinding red lipstick.
"Do you have money?" The woman asked.
Jethro produced a large wad of cash and dangled it in front of the Madam's face.
"Come in you charming American man...." The old woman cooed as Jethro walked in.
Jethro was immediately assaulted by a cloud of pungent cigar smoke, and the heavy mingling of men's cologne. Various fragrances all fighting for dominance on the lower level of the house.
"Let me get you a nice drink." The woman said in a voice that was low, but had lost its sweet purr that was now replaced with a gravely tone that could have only come from years of chain-smoking.
"Businessman?" The woman asked as she headed behind a bar where a half-dozen other men sat sipping their drinks and flirting with women all scantily clad, and wearing lots of make-up.
"That I am." Jethro said plainly, as he looked around awkwardly.
"Poor thing...you work too hard." The Madam cooed as she poured a glass of cognac.
"Tell my wife that." Jethro grunted. It was a natural reply for him, the pain of his latest divorce was still fresh in his mind.
"Oh no no, I no tell that's why the men they love it here." The woman replied as she slid out from behind the bar and handed Jethro his drink.
"Good, she thinks I'm on business." Jethro said as he drank a small sip.
"You are." The Madam said in a flattering voice as she eyed Jethro.
"Oh but I never mix business with pleasure." Jethro said playfully as he took another sip.
"You Americans take life too seriously! How about a nice girl for some...how do you say in America...playtime?" The Madam gently rested a hand on Jethro's shoulder as she said it, and batted her eyelashes.
Jethro was trying not to shake...this was almost too awkward for him.
"You're new to this I see...I have just the girls for you." The older woman explained with a sympathetic smile as she looked at Jethro.
The woman clapped her hands and three girls appeared quickly. One stood out among the rest and Jethro was relieved to see her. Jenny's firey red hair was replaced by a short bobbed blond wig and she blended in with the brunettes that were next to her in the bar area.
"I like her!" Jethro said too enthusiastically as he pointed at Jenny.
"Marielle? She is too new for you. She will bore you." The Madam explained quickly.
"I am paying for her...I will give you all I have and more if you need." Jethro said as he tried to quell the anger rising in him.
When they had gotten the file it had seemed so black-and-white, but now seeing Jenny standing there in a green and black corseted top, a black miniskirt, and black stilettos Jethro knew it was so much more than that. He could tell by her face what she had done. For them, for the job...she'd had no choice. It made him sick, and he'd kill Leon Vance over it if the opportunity ever came up.
"That is hardly necessary sir. She is an amateur." The older woman added.
"Good...I like new." Jethro said as he forced a wad of cash into the older woman's hand.
"She doesn't speak a lick of English." The Madam said darkly.
She hadn't been so fond of her new recruit...dropped off around lunchtime, with no appropriate clothing. She'd borrowed everything from another woman, and she'd had to learn how to put her make-up on. So far she hadn't been a natural. Spilling drinks on clients, and practically shaking as one man led her up the stairs.
"But fresh from the countryside today." Jethro said quickly.
"How do you know?" The madam asked sharply.
"She looks...country." Jethro said with a wry smile.
"That is why you want Ava or Sophie." The woman countered. Two brunettes smiled at the mention of their names.
"Where I come from country looking or plain means pure...not so easy to find these days." Jethro lamented.
"Fine you may have her...if you insist." The Madam said as she counted out the bills.
"I cut you a break though. If you don't like her you get half back." The woman said it with a wink as she handed Jethro his change.
The two brunettes giggled, and Jenny stared straight ahead, pretending not to understand the conversation.
"Take him upstairs...and for God's sake don't be such a prude this time." The Madam barked the orders at Jenny in French.
Jethro stood there as Jenny approached him tentatively and led him up the stairs. Jethro didn't think it was possible but the upstairs smelt far worse than downstairs. Now it was women's perfumes...jasmine, water lily, sandalwood, and a myriad of other fragrances all combating one another for dominance. Jethro decided it was far more fearsome to smell a mixture of heavy perfumes rather than cologne, men he could fight, or ignore, but women were another story.
Jenny opened the door to a small room that had a bed. The sheets were fresh, much to Jethro's surprise and the light from a small fixture in the corner cast a shadowy glow over the room. Jenny locked the door and leaned in to whisper in Jethro's ear.
"The Italian...he was here". Jenny said as she kissed Jethro's neck, thankful to be holding him instead of some other man.
"Don't tell me you had pasta for dinner Jen." Jethro whispered back as they fell onto the bed, Jenny guiding them as they stayed locked in a tight embrace.
Jethro could feel the guilt, anger and shame rising in him, and he already feared her answer. Jenny's reply was a slight nod, and she buried her head in Jethro's shoulder, too ashamed to look at him.
"For the job." Jenny whispered...echoing the sentiment Jethro had used to justify their latest mission.
"I'm sorry." Jethro whispered back.
"Never apologize." Jenny said as she placed a finger over Jethro's lips.
"How did it go?" Jethro asked.
Jenny sat up on the bed and reached into her tightly laced corset. There was only one place she could hide such an item. She retrieved the cell phone and handed it to Jethro.
"Good work." Jethro said as he looked at the newest high-end cell phone. The power had been turned off...a wise move on Jenny's part considering where it had been stashed. It had amazed her at how easy it had been, the man had hardly paid attention as she sashayed around the room post-seduction. Now she was in possession of his phone.
"All of his contacts, appointments, business deals. His life is in the phone." Jenny explained.
"You had time to check?" Jethro asked in surprise as he sat up.
Jenny nodded. "Slow night...for me at least." Jenny replied through gritted teeth.
"Is it there? The one we really want?" Jethro asked with excitement rising in his voice.
Jenny nodded as her face beamed in a large smile.
"The Frog." Jenny whispered as she kissed Jethro on the lips.
"We still have forty-five minutes." Jenny whispered.
"Really?" Jethro asked with a smile as he wrapped his arms around Jenny's shoulders and pulled her down on the bed with him.
They cuddled until there was a sharp knock at the door.
"Five minutes." A voice grumbled.
Jethro hopped up and undressed quickly, and then re-dressed even quicker hoping to create a disheveled appearance.
"Good thinking." Jenny whispered as she stood up.
"Thank God for your flawless French." Jethro said quietly.
"No thank Mrs. Mandeville. If she hadn't forced me to stay for after school tutoring I wouldn't even be able to order French toast." Jenny teased.
"See you at sunrise." Jethro whispered as he and Jenny headed back downstairs, the smell of perfume, cologne and cigars assaulting Jethro's nostrils.
"So how was my little country girl?" The Madam asked sarcastically as Jethro made his way down the stairs.
"Well..." Jethro trailed off as he fished through his pockets and handed the rest of his cash to the Madam.
Her eyes grew wide at the sight of so much money.
"You Americans have such strange tastes, but it is good for me." The Madam said as she gratefully accepted the cash.
Jethro exited the brothel and headed back to his hotel as instructed. He took a long shower and still couldn't get the scent out of his mind. The figure of speech he had heard so many times to describe bad cologne or perfume stuck in his mind. "Like a French whorehouse." Had taken on a whole new meaning for Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
He paced nervously in a pair of sweat pants and an old t-shirt. It was just after seven a.m. when Jenny came in, her shoulders hunched, her make-up runny, and a defeated look on her face. Jethro embraced her immediately, happy to see she was alive, and well.
"Shower now....order me some food." Jenny grumbled as she kicked off her heels and headed towards the bathroom. Jenny flung the blond wig in the trash as a cascade of greasy, sweaty red curls tumbled down her back.
Jethro ordered a breakfast for both of them, and as Jenny sat in her bathrobe and only picked at her French toast he looked at her with concern.
"It's been over a day since you've eaten last." Jethro said as he watched her take the tiniest bite of food.
"Damnit Jethro!" Jenny said as she slammed her fork down.
"Jen...you have to eat something." Jethro said as he stood up and made his way over to her side of the table so he could hug her.
"I need...to...do...something...." Jenny trailed off as she burst into tears.
"Cry." Jethro whispered as he held Jenny in his arms while she cried. Jenny rarely cried, and for some reason when she did she always felt she had to announce it to Jethro. It had only happened twice before and Jethro wasn't sure if she was warning him, or hoping for comfort. He decided it was a bit of both.
"It was disgusting!" Jenny wailed.
"I know I was there." Jethro said sympathetically.
"He was disgusting!" Jenny sobbed.
"Oh Jenny!" Jethro hugged her tighter, suppressing his own feelings of guilt, shame, and jealousy. He was smart enough to know whatever he felt was eating Jenny up inside and consuming her. Now that it was all over she couldn't justify the situation anymore. It was done and over with...but that didn't mean either of them had to like what had transpired.
In a five-star hotel room with her lover and partner the mentality of "for the job" seemed wholly inadequate.
"Make it better." Jenny finally whispered as her tears ceased.
Jethro glanced at his watch it was only ten, and they weren't meeting Vance until after dark. Then they would hand over the phone and get their next set of instructions. They spent the rest of the day quietly lying in bed, cuddling, kissing, and reaching a silent understanding that everything was all better, at least for the moment.
Jethro snapped back to reality, the scent of air freshener bringing him back. He hopped to his feet, knowing the elevator had been out of service for far too long. He hit the power on button reluctantly knowing that he didn't want to face what was waiting for him. With a heavy sigh he reminded himself that it was what Shannon would have wanted. Somehow, someway in the end Jethro would make it all better.