Disclaimer- NCIS is not mine

Authors note – So, as you may have noticed the title has changed, this is now the most accurate translation – thanks to Azniv.

I hope this chapter is okay, sorry for spelling, grammar, typo's etc. Thanks to all my reviewers:
RhizOneill, Qoheleth, Guest, Azniv, Left My Heart in Paris, magiclover13, GeneaLady (I also hate Ryan, and what to throw stuff at the tv whenever she appears, but don't worry, she won't last long here)

Anyway, enjoy! (:


Ne m'oublie pas s'il te plait

Jenny Shepard walked down the alley way, mind caught up in the tangled web of emotions she was currently feeling in the wake of the performance. If Ducky had of been there, listening to that song, he'd be chasing after her now, about to give her a long lecture about the length of life. She almost wished he was there, because she knew he would tell her to go and find Gibbs. But he wasn't there, Ducky was hundreds of miles away in DC, no doubt sat with the team having drinks and telling embarrassing tales. And as for finding and telling Gibbs, well she knew that was no more than a dream. She was in Witness protection, and the likelihood of her ever seeing him again was about the same as lightening striking twice.

She'd managed to get rid of the CIA almost subconsciously, so whist hey panicked she walked. Silently, not even listening to the sound around her. She didn't notice a figure standing at the end of the alley she had entered through, she didn't see him or hear him as he walked at a fast pace to catch up with her.

In fact she only actually noticed him when his hand reached forward and grabbed her ponytail, pulling her backwards. The red head squealed in surprise momentarily before she realised what exactly was about to happen. She tried to kick and spin, her agent skills rustily getting into action. Except her was stronger, and in a more domineering and powerful position. But Jenny fought; she kicked, until he pushed her up against the wall. "You wrecked my life you stupid slut!" He growled in her ear, making he bit her lip to keep quiet. "Well now I'm going to ruin yours!"

It was then Jenny noticed his knife, a simple kitchen knife, large but sharp and capable of doing a decent amount of damage. Jen may have been in witness protection for years but she still remembered the rules a former marine had drilled into her as a probie. The sharp blade of her knife dug into her calf, she knew there was no hope though – it was out of reach.

With every second that passed his knife got closer to her neck, until the sound of running feet could be heard. Then her security stood there with guns drawn ready to shoot him down. "You really think that will stop me?" He whispered, as his knife twisted on her neck as he dragged it down her skin. A gun was fired, the silencer working almost perfectly as it muffled the sound so no one would hear. His body fell to the ground.

The redhead breathed a sigh of relief, adrenalin running through her body making her knees go shaky and not feel the bleeding cut on her neck. It was strange though, she didn't feel scared, or like she was relieved she no longer had to deal with that on a daily basis. Instead she felt like she missed it, as though in that terrifying moment something had clicked that made her realise how much she wanted to do good. But knowing all along that it would never happen.

The agents gathered, wiping down the knife of her blood with alcohol wipes. "The cops won't know it was you, it'll just look like a guy who brought a knife to a gun fight." Said one of the agents. Jenny still had no clue that the man was, and he'd fallen on his face so she couldn't tell. All she knew was that she was unable to correctly place where she knew the voice from.

"Here." Another said, handing her a tissue for her neck, she took it gratefully, stood there holding it as still she felt nothing from the wound. The agents were quick about their work and within five minutes they were all heading back to the apartment for the night. It was then as she walked Jenny felt the sting of the wound and hissed in pain. One of the men, tall with dark hair slicked back turned around and looked at the wound quickly.

"It won't need stitched but we'll clean it up and dress it when we get back." Jenny just nodded and applied pressure to the wound as she followed the CIA. What not one of the highly trained federal personal saw as they walked away was the single droplet of blood that was drying out of the floor of the alleyway, a single droplet of blood from a woman who was by all accounts supposed to be dead.

By the time she got back to the apartment, the piece of tissue begin held to her neck was completely covered in red, and the CIA men were getting very concerned. Jenny sat down and took off her coat before looking down at her neck. A couple of minutes later a blonde haired woman walked into the apartment, talking in a quietly stern voice to all of the agents. She knelt down in front of Jenny and simply cut the woman's white blouse so she could see the wound. "How badly does it hurt?" She questioned as her eyes skimmed over the wound. Jenny did not know who the woman was, however in the last two years she'd learnt not to ask.

"Not as much as getting shot." The red head responded.

"It is not as bad as it could have been." She said as she opened a green medical bag that had miraculously appeared from o where and began to wipe the wound with an alcohol wipe. Jenny hissed. "Sorry." The woman said, not sounded sincere in the slightest. She was rough, but before Jenny knew anything else the wound had gauze and cotton wool over it and she was done.

Sighing Jenny sighed at the thought of the evening, she was shattered, and yet the adrenalin running through her blood was going to be nothing to help her sleep. So Jenny made her way into her room and curled up in bed, trying to think back to happier times in Paris.


That night Gibbs lay in bed, Ryan had tried to curl up with him, but as soon as she had drifted off he'd sat up, and now was looking out the window out into the rest of the world. He didn't know why now all of a sudden he felt guilty, his gut had calmed down but all he could think about now was Jenny. It had been five years since she had 'died', and with every year that passed he felt like she was slowly slipping further away from him. She'd been the only woman he had ever dated who hadn't been a replacement for Shannon like Diane and Ginger had been. But every woman since, Stephanie, Hollis, and even Ryan had all been a replacement for Jenny.

Stephanie had been to numb the pain. Hollis had been to make her jealous. Ryan, he guessed that the way she could read him, and the way she was dedicated reminded him of Jenny when she had been director. She was the second one to get away.

Silently, as not to wake his companion, he slipped a photo out of his bedside cabinet. After Paris he'd had tonnes of pictures of him and Jenny that made him smile, but this one was special. They'd driven off out with Ducky for the day, trying to escape the world of lies they were living in. They'd found a small town, and I the stifling heat of August there had been a welcoming fountain. Gibbs being Gibbs had pushed a doubtful Jenny in, and then quickly followed her.

The picture showed them both running through the fountain, holding hands and laughing. As with most of the pictures Ducky had been the one behind the camera. As he looked at the picture now he felt a wave of guilt, because whilst with Shannon's death he had begun to accept he could not have stopped it. With Jenny, the knowledge she 'died' for him, that made it even harder to forget.

"Who is she?" Questioned Ryan, sitting up behind him and looking over his shoulder.

"No one." He replied too quickly before putting the picture away.

"Gibbs-"

"Drop it." He didn't know why he was reluctant to tell her, but he was. Whilst she knew the bare minimum about Shannon from a source he was unsure of, she did not know about Jenny. For the moment at least he wanted Jenny to be his secret, because in sharing her he might lose her even more.

Gibbs laid back down and put his back to Ryan, not knowing why he was being cold with her but knowing for the moment he needed to be. She fell back asleep and he began to doze off, thinking back to Paris – the last time he'd been a hundred percent happy – over a decade ago.


Hours later, when the sun had only just begun to rise and his phone rung, the shrill waking them both. He opened his eyes, and picked up the offending object before sitting up. "Yeah, Gibbs." He answered, looking back out the window at the grey sky before him.

"Dispatch, DB in Philadelphia."

"Why us?"

"Short staffed Gibbs." Said the older woman's voice on the end of the phone before the line went dead. He looked at his phone and saw he had a message telling him the GPS co-ordinates. Sighing he ran a hand through his hair before standing up.

"Case?" She asked, softly.

"Yeah." He said as he went into the bathroom to shower.

"You know, pushing me out won't help. Whoever that woman was last night is gone-"

"Just drop it Doc." He replied before she heard the shower go on. Frustrated she stood up and left, not bothering to say goodbye. Gibbs groaned as he heard the door slam shut. It was earl, he'd had minimal sleep and Jenny was still on his mind, he knew he was going to need coffee to get through the day ahead.

An hour later he walked under the yellow tape to see Ziva and Tony already processing the scene whilst McGee took witness statements. He felt gad that his team was so well accustomed to their routine – I made his life a hell of a lot easier. Gibbs took a sip of his coffee as he walked over to ducky, thankful for the scolding liquid as it slid down his throat.

As he stepped down the alley, the concentrated small of damp, blood and death assaulted his senses. Thankfully his years in the job had made him become accustomed to the smell. He walked silently and crouched down next to the dead body in front of him. "What we got Duck?" He questioned gruffly.

"Well, our poor fellow here is former Lieutenant Charles Massey. COD looks like a single gunshot wound but I'll know for definite when I get him back." Said the ME as he flipped the body over.

"TOD?"

"It seems he was murdered sometime between 10:30 pm and Midnight last night."

"Thanks Duck." He said, before walking off.

As he left the alley way he chucked his coffee cup in the disposable bin and went about finding out what the local LEO's had found out, and then see if his team had actually done any work what so ever in the past hour.


Late that morning Jenny Shepard awoke to the feeling of a sharp stabbing pain in her neck and a dull ache all over her body. She was momentarily disorientated until she remembered the events of the previous night and groaned heavily. She wondered how she could have been so utterly stupid as not to have seen him. One thing Jenny was pretty sure of was that she would most likely be moving cities again soon in the near future, and maybe this time even continents.

Carefully she stood up and walked into the en suite bathroom before peeling off the gauze to look at the wound. The red head hissed at the pain and saw that it was bright red and inflamed, however there seemed to be no infection as of yet. So she dug out her medical kit and cleaned and dressed the wound. It brought back memories of the time she had learnt how to do it. When they had been undercover and Jethro had been shot. He refused to let anyone help him, but through a few tactical bribes she had managed to clean and dress the gun shot every day until it healed.

Once she was down the red head washed her hair in the sink before she stepped into the bath, not letting the water touch her wound. An hour and a half later, with her hair in a French plait down her back and dressed in a pair of tight fitted joggers and a black vest top she emerged from her room in search of coffee. However when she got to the kitchen area she was greeted by double the amount of agents, all stood there talking about tactics. "Well hi there?" She said, smiling softly before they all moved so she could get through. "So, why have you all bread overnight?" She asked, and a couple looked at her uncomfortably. "I mean, there are twice as many CIA agents stood in my kitchen as there was yesterday!"

"Ma'am, we need to establish whether your cover had been blown." Said the woman from yesterday who had cleaned her wound.

"Jeez! Don't call me ma'am. Firstly I'm not the director anymore, and secondly it makes me feel old." Sad the red head as she walked out of the room and into the living area. "So, what happens, I move again?"

"No, actually we want to keep you here, continue your usual routine."

"And why would that be? I take it the CIA has the investigation into my attackers death."

"Actually no." said the woman, sitting down on the sofa opposite.

"FBI?"

"Nope."

"The who?" But the woman's face said it all. "NCIS?"

"He was a former Marine."

"Name?"

"That's all we know."

"Well aren't you agency of the year!" Jenny said exasperated. Then she got off and headed towards her room.

"Ms. Sheppard, where are you going?"

"Well, considering I act as normal my shift starts in an hour and a half, so I best get a move on." Jenny was getting annoyed and her temper was running thin. She did not understand why they were keeping her stateside anyway, why couldn't she just go to Europe or somewhere, at least that way she would be somewhere no one knew her. 'Paris.' She said to herself. 'That's where I'll go' but that was if they ever actually let her go somewhere else. For now she seemed trapped.


"Tony, I got blood." Said Ziva as she knelt down by the wall and photographed the droplet before taking a sample.

"Where?" He questioned, as he walked over singing some Sinatra classic Ziva had never heard of.

"Here!" She responded.

"Alright, alright!"

"It doesn't fit with the rest of the blood pattern." She stated as she stood up and looked at it in comparison to the placing of all of the others.

"I think someone else was in this alleyway."

"Killer?"

"Or victim?"


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