I know a week ago I was saying how difficult it is to juggle two stories at once, but this has been in my head for ages so I've just decided to post it.

Updates might not be as quick as they have been, as I start my job on Monday and then uni on Thursday, so I'm going to be pretty busy.

This story is actually 2 ideas I had combined. This chapter is split into two because the next part's going to be M rated. I'll try to have it up either tomorrow or Sunday. Hope you enjoy the first installment though :)


Staring moodily into the glass of bourbon he was cradling, Gibbs reflected on the fact that he was going to need a hell of a lot more to forget the day's events - and even then he might be struggling. Downing the rest of his first glass, he looked up to the barman and indicated he wanted another, which was quickly slid along the bar to him.

He looked around him, it was only mid-week so the bar was pretty much empty, something he was grateful for - it meant quicker service for one thing. Staring at the amber liquid, he scrubbed a hand over his jaw. He was tired and exhausted, and the alcohol just wasn't hitting the spot for once.

It had been a long case, a Petty Officer had reported his wife and two year old son missing. Family and friends had reported that the wife, Melissa, had never mentioned any intention of leaving her husband and had seemed happy with her life. The idea of her running off just didn't seem likely, and something in Gibbs mind just didn't add up. So after eighteen hours of fruitless searching, he'd pushed the husband for answers, he'd taken twelve hours to break, but finally he admitted he'd been having an affair. He didn't want the expense of divorce and his lover didn't want the burden of a toddler that wasn't hers, so he'd shot his wife, but had been unable to face turning the weapon on his son. So when he'd abandoned the car and the body, he'd left the little boy strapped in his car seat. Hoping when they were found it would be put down as a robbery gone wrong.

He'd hidden the car off an almost deserted road. Miraculously the little boy was still alive and had been rushed to hospital with severe dehydration, it had been touch and go, but they'd just had word that it looked as though he'd pull through with extensive treatment.

It didn't feel like enough though, Gibbs thought as he gulped down his drink again. He should have been able to see through the man sooner, should have broken him quicker. That little boy should never been able to get to that stage, and he'd failed by not getting to him sooner.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the bell above the entrance signal a newcomer's arrival, and so he was unaware that someone else was sitting at the bar until a husky female voice said, "Bourbon, please." And then added almost as an afterthought, "in fact you better make it a double."

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, if the owner of that voice looked half as good as she sounded...he looked up and discovered she looked every bit as good as she sounded. A leggy red head with curves in all the right places. He watched with growing amusement when the bartender asked, "You wantin' ice?"

She threw him an almost scornful glance. "I don't want it diluted in any way, shape or form," she replied.

"That'll be six eighty."

"I'll get it," Gibbs heard himself say. "And I'll have another."

The man shrugged, he wasn't bothered who bought it, as long as someone coughed up the cash. He passed Gibbs yet another bourbon and went back to his self appointed task of polishing glasses.

Gibbs looked over at the redhead, who was now studying him intently. He hadn't meant to speak, but it had just bubbled up and was out his mouth before he'd realised it. Although from the smile that was slowly appearing on her face, making what he could now see were startling green eyes gleam, he realised that it could end up being the best thing he'd done in a long time. Looking at her made him forget, and that was what he wanted, to forget.

"Do you always buy drinks for strange women in bars?" she asked, one perfect eyebrow arched in wry amusement.

"Do you always accept drinks from strange men in bars?" he countered.

"You have to live dangerously at some point," she replied, shifting onto the bar stool next to his.

As her legs crossed, her skirt slid up ever so slightly, revealing more of the pale, toned flesh of her thigh, and Gibbs felt his gut clench, he really wanted to run his fingers along the exposed skin, but he figured that was a bit too forward. Instead he offered his hand, "Jethro."

She smiled, taking the proffered hand. "Jenny," she replied. Then as their hands parted she rolled his name around her tongue. "Jethro," she repeated, and the way she said it made him want to hear her scream it. He tried to push that image out of his head and concentrated instead on what she was saying, "Your parents obviously had a sense of humour."

"First name's worse," he replied chuckling.

"Oh God," she looked appalled. "You mean that's actually the lesser of two evils?"

"Afraid so," he laughed.

"Well, Jethro, you never answered my question."

He shrugged, "A woman who can hold her bourbon's rare."

"I'll admit it is a rather acquired taste." She looked down at his drink, the smile that was curving her full lips, deepening. "A taste that we appear to share."

"Looks like it."

Jennifer Sheppard looked up into the warm, laughing blue eyes and felt her bad mood slip away slightly. She'd had the day from hell so far. It had started with an argument with her father over his reluctance to accept he needed help in the house, to having to treat a two year old with severe dehydration which had lead to acute kidney failure because his father had left him to die in a car alongside his murdered mother's body.

Just the thought of the little boy made her sad, he'd need to spend time on dialysis although it looked like he'd recover, but what sort of life would he have, knowing what his father had done? She just couldn't imagine why anyone would do that to any child, let alone their own. She'd come to the bar wanting to forget, and although she didn't normally chat up men at the bar, for this one she was very willing to make an exception.

The conversation flowed easily, although neither gave away anything else to do with their lives, and the other didn't ask. It was as though they both recognised that they just wanted something to take them away from reality.

Finally the bartender appeared in front of them. "Last orders, you pair," he told them before walking away.

Jenny stared down at the dregs in her glass. "I'd be tempted to ask for another one, but for the past few he's been watering them down."

"You noticed it too, then?"

"Hmmm, well he's not been very subtle in his disapproval over how much we've drank."

"Not the best trait in a barman," Gibbs remarked.

"No," Jenny laughed. "It really isn't."

Suddenly emboldened by the sultry laugh that escaped her, Gibbs realised that he didn't want this to end quite so soon. His fingers brushed over her hand and elicited a small shiver that made up his mind for him. Leaning closer, he told her, "You know, I have a full bottle of bourbon at home."

"Are you bragging, or issuing an invitation?" Jenny joked lightly.

"Definitely the second," he replied.

"Well in that case, how can I refuse?" They both slipped off their stools, Gibbs helping Jenny with her jacket. "Very chivalrous," she whispered.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

She laughed again. "If you're that unsure you can check your thesaurus when you get home."

"Don't own one."

"That actually makes sense." She turned her head slightly so that her cheek brushed against his, shooting him a small smile.

She'd just leaned into him when the harsh tones of the barman once again broke through their shared trance. "You two better not be driving," he snapped.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Jenny replied smartly.

"I should take your keys, play it safe."

Gibbs shot him a hard glare, he really didn't appreciate being interrupted. "We're taking a taxi," he barked back.

"Yeah, well, I'll be watching, making sure you do."

Jenny rolled her eyes as they walked away. "He's an absolute charmer, no wonder it was so mobbed in there."

Gibbs laughed, "It's not your regular then?"

"Nope, I've always preferred places where your shoes don't stick to the floor."

"My place definitely has an advantage over in there then," Gibbs told her confidently.

Jenny's eyes raked lazily over his form. "I can think of a couple more advantages it might have as well," she replied, as she hailed a taxi for them both.


Quick note, if caught quickly enough the acute kidney failure is reversible. Chronic kidney failure is not.