A/N- Ahead of time, I will say I NEVER thought I'd write this. In a million years. And even though it may be considered Jenny/Tony I will say it is NOT. Period. They are not a pairing, this is just what I think might have happened while Gibbs was on hiatus. This is not for the faint-hearted, and alludes to sex. Another thing is that I have no idea how to write this without it sounding so damn cliche, so, please, excuse me, the twelve year old, for not having any idea how to write drunken sex between a subordinate and a boss. It's just...complicated. :)
Please tell me what you think!
The bull-pen was quiet that night. Scratch that; all of NCIS was quiet.
Gibbs had been gone for almost seven weeks, and it showed; everywhere.
Though Abigail Scutio had (albeit hesitantly) gone back to her normal routine of blaring music and bubbly hugs, there was still always the lingering air of sadness to each of her actions. 'Daddy' was gone, 'Mommy' drank too much, and Abby imagined this is what it felt like when parents got an unsettled divorce.
The others were effected, too.
Tony and Ziva grew closer and then drifted again, emotionally, in strange intervals. Held together by weekly movie-nights and lukewarm cups of cheap coffee. McGee bucked it up, in a way- attempting to fill the shoes of the X-Rated Peter Pan. Tim began to act cocky, arrogant, and nobody really liked it.
Cynthia found herself in the awkward position of missing Gibbs; no matter how much she tried to deny it. She longed for the pig-headed man to glare at her; just for kicks, one last time.
Everyone knew it effected her the most, however silently.
People noticed the way the redheaded director began to look like she'd aged. Bags beneath dull green eyes that once sparkled with life. A permanent frown etched onto that petite, beautiful face.
Jenny Sheppard looked drained- emotionally, physically- and yet a certain silver-haired fox hadn't abused her door for weeks. It confused some, while it deeply worried others.
Jenny hated the looks she got. The scuttlebutt had been that she and Jethro had been in an intimate relationship, that they were more than just subordinate and boss, and although it was untrue, she didn't want to deny anything. Because they were something more; just not definitely.
When she thought of him her head hurt. A bitter taste assaulted her mouth when she thought of the lies, the betrayal. A hollow, worn feeling confronted her chest when she thought of how he left, how she may never see him again. Jenny felt as if she was being pulled apart by conflicting emotions that slowly tore her to shreds.
She briefly wondered if this is what it felt like to have no heart.
So, trying with all her might, she decided she would move on. It was like Paris all over again; except this time she was receiving a taste of her own medicine. Jenny hated to think that this is how she'd made him feel. For what she was feeling he would have never deserved.
And he couldn't remember her. Ironic, really, that she had practically begged for him to forget, to get his mind out of the bedroom, to not make it harder than it had to be when she'd first arrived as director. Now this was all that tied them together.
She wanted him to remember everything- Marseilles, Serbia, Positano, Paris, Russia. Anything. Jenny wished that she wasn't the only one who remembered what they'd had. How they'd love- but, no, that wasn't it. She just wanted someone to remember the good times with.
Being alone was definitely not something she liked feeling- on any level. And yet this is what she'd felt nearly half of her life.
Regardless, moving on was her top priority. She had an agency to run, and Jenny would ignore the looks if that was all it took. Emotions were harder to wrestle with; but she knew in time they would succumb. The best thing to do now was find a way to distract herself.
Then it came- an image of an Arm's Dealer she'd wanted to bring down since the beginning of her career. Her father's murderer. Her secret. Everything she hated in life besides gossiping women and sexist men without blue eyes.
Rene Benoit.
She lost sleep over it, and she finally found something to crack him with. A daughter. A beautiful, single, young, daughter. It smelled of sabotage.
DiNozzo ended up being the best person for the job, and she pushed all thoughts of guilt away when she saw how much Jeanne looked like her father. She pushed away the fact that Tony was in love with her dear friend, Ziva. Jenny ignored the fact that what she was doing was wrong.
That silent night was the night she gave him the assignment. The night the war began.
He agreed, readily, and she thought fleetingly how young he was. So accepting. Taking advantage of him wasn't something she'd have usually done, but with him filling Jethro's shoes, and there being no Jethro, this was like taking candy from a baby.
This is when Jennifer Sheppard's dark side began to unearth.
With a grin upon his youthful face, Tony left, unaware that his life was about to go to hell.
All he could thing of was the raise in salary; the good words that would be put in for him in the future, whatever it may bring.
-O-O-O-
Time passed, and with the growing cold of winter she grew colder as well. Cynthia never heard sobbing behind closed doors anymore, but she smelled alcohol much more often. Tony settled into his position as leader, Ziva became puzzled at the distance he possessed.
One January night, as Jenny briefed him on her approach to the situation, he questioned what should never be questioned. But it was her first inquiry that spurred him on.
"How are you adjusting to being team leader?" She asked idly, rolling her pen in her fingers.
"Good. Considering...," he trailed off, and the silence became awkward enough to make him shift in his seat.
"You ever talk to him?"
With a shake of the head, Jenny was ready to dismiss him. No, she hadn't talked to Jethro. He hadn't tried to contact her, either, when he had all means to do so. Tony wasn't content with the brush off, though. He dug deeper.
"Boss never did like to talk...maybe he could never find the words," he suggested.
"Gibbs is gone, Tony. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to finish some paperwork before I head off. We've made progress, and I'll contact you when we need to do more. You're dismissed." Jenny's lips formed a tight line, decidedly shutting off his presence.
"Have a good night, Madame Director."
She looked up, irked by the nickname. Tony was taken off guard by the seriousness she emitted.
"My apologies, Director Shepp-"
"Don't apologize, Tony. And I think it's quite silly to have such formalities now. Call me Jenny," her alto voice came out rather soft, tired even.
"Goodnight, Jenny," he said with a nod, closing the door to her office with a soft thud, wood unaccustomed to the polite treatment. She looked at it with nostalgia.
Change.
-O-O-O-
The first night it snowed, he kissed her.
Agents were used to this happening a specific time of year; the snow so heavily coming down that seldom people went into work. Criminals took a break.
Tony and Jenny didn't.
They had no family besides their colleagues this time of year, and Jenny had nothing but her job. Snowed in, no power, and strangely content, they end up working in the same office together, him finishing paperwork, her reading reports.
Tony DiNozzo had become rather responsible in Gibbs' absence.
"How's Jeanne?" Jenny asked, wanting an update on that particular situation.
"Good. We had a date tonight but..the snow kind of blew away that plan," he said, looking back down at the paper he was reading.
She was immediately alarmed. It was the way he'd said it; without thinking. If she hadn't known better, he would have been speaking to her about his real girlfriend. Jenny sensed trouble.
"How deep are you in this, Tony?"
He looked up, puzzled. "What?"
"Are you falling in love with Jeanne Benoit?"
"No."
The answer was cold. His soft green eyes hardened like stones. It all sounded tight, constricted.
She knew he was lying.
"Can you handle this, Tony? Really. If you feel that you can't do this, I will completely understand. There will be no official records of any of it," her voice softened considerably.
"I'm fine, Jenny. Trust me. I'm not in love with her..."
Yet. He didn't say it and yet it echoed in her mind.
She didn't dig deeper. They remained the same. That night, as he left her office with feeble excuses of the bullpen having nice sleeping arrangements, she knew she'd screwed up.
But then, Jenny knew what it felt like to fall in love with the assignment. You deny it. It's an easy reaction. Emotions are hard to deal with. You leave it. You move on.
-O-O-O-
Tony hadn't planned on coming back that night. Nor had he planned hearing the quiet sobs behind the wood doors of her office. He didn't plan on being rude, not knocking.
He didn't plan on having to see such a weak, dead, look, come from such a powerful woman. It honestly scared him.
Upon seeing him, Jenny rubbed her palms against her eyes in a useless attempt to take away the redness. She shut the desk drawer which held the pictures of Jethro. Paris. Love.
She suddenly loathed it all.
"Jenny, are you okay?"
Tony sounded worried, and it killed her to know he'd seen like that. Pathetic.
"I'm fine, Special Agent DiNozzo. What is it you needed?"
The formality immediately alerted him, as did her withdrawn tone. Back to square one, but not if he could help it.
"Explanation would be nice. Have you talked about it at all? Oh, how I sound like a therapist. I hate those guys. I'm sure you do too," he smiled, attempting to draw one from her as well.
"Tony," she muttered. The look he was giving her told her she shouldn't decline.
"Would you like to have a drink?" She asked, finally.
A nod was all that was needed.
-O-O-O-
Jenny held her liquor well, as did Tony. However, anyone who drank nearly a whole bottle of high quality Scotch would loose their baring sooner or later.
When the clock chimed two, Tony knew it was time to stop. Maybe it was because after the long, heart-felt, cliche, heart-to-heart, they'd had they began to scoot closer and closer to each other on the couch. Maybe because when Jenny laughed he was so close to her he could smell her expensive perfume and see the pale skin of her throat. Appealing skin.
The wind roared outside, and Jenny suddenly grew quiet. Pondering.
He knew because he'd watched Gibbs do it months prior.
"You know, this is all bullshit, right, Tony?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about." It came off as cheap, and he knew it.
"Everything. The interrogations, the arrests. At the end of the day you're left with a case report to do and one less piece of innocence than you had the day before. Tomorrow the monster will have just grown another head."
He knew then she was far more out of it than she let on. Her words made him weary.
"No. What we do makes a difference. Everything we do makes a difference. I wake up in the morning knowing I'm making a decision to save lives."
"I thought so too, for a long time. But sometimes no matter how much we think we're making the right decision, we aren't. If you weren't an NCIS Special Agent, what would you do?"
The question wasn't rhetorical and yet all it met was silence. She laughed bitterly.
"You don't know. The fact is, I didn't know either. So I clung to my job with my life and gave up everything else. Look where that's gotten me," the last part said softly.
"You're life doesn't seem to bad. Maybe a senator to dodge here and there, but-"
"I'm alone, Tony."
The air crackled between them with tension. With realization.
"No, you're not."
Words were laced with double meaning and whether it was the alcohol, or the room temperature, or the sleep deprivation, something made he reach out and caress his face.
It was foreign. It was surreal. It was a mistake.
Green eyes smolder as she delivers the unforgivable words that will seal fate.
"Prove it."
-O-O-O-
Waking to the feel of eyes watching him is an unpleasant feeling, he learns. Realizing you're naked, in your bosses office, with practically no recollection of the previous night, is even worse.
He turns, grasping the light blanket that is covering his torso in his hands. Running over the texture, meeting her eyes from across the room. The blinds are shut, as are the curtains. He looks over at his clothes, haphazardly strewn a few feet away from the couch which he occupies.
She is already dressed, sitting quietly at the conference table, watching him with a slight frown. Tony takes that as his key to wake up.
It's a bit awkward, dressing in front of your boss when alcohol isn't running through your blood. Yet, on the other hand, he still remembers the feel of her skin on his. It's a tough line to walk.
Tony almost flinches when she speaks.
"The roads are cleared, you can go home."
He wants to say something, but he can't.
She purses her lips, looking down at her hands in her lap. She seems delicate, now. Jenny is never delicate.
"Last night-
"Was nothing, Tony. This was nothing. It never happened. Are we clear?"
"Crystal," he says, and he knows this is the last he'll see of 'delicate' Jenny.
As he opens the door to leave, she stops him.
"Thank you, Tony."
He doesn't look back as he shuts the door.
-O-O-O-
Forty-two days later, Jethro Gibbs sits across from her in that same office, blue eyes hard, almost in jealousy. But she won't let herself dream that hard.
"Anything happen between you and DiNozzo while I was away, Jen?"
He's the only one who ever calls her that anymore.
"Of course not, Jethro."
She says it with a scoff. Her right eye doesn't twitch, because it's true.
She basks in the feeling of regret that pulses through her, and then pushes it away just as quickly. She ignores the feeling of betrayal, because she's not with Jethro.
Nothing happened.
In a way.