Another shot of bourbon, can't stop looking at the door
Wishing you'd come sweeping in the way you did before
And I wonder if I ever cross your mind...for me it happens all the time

Gibbs set down the sander and leaned back, resting his hands on his knees. He picked up his coffee cup and swirled the bourbon, then took a sip. Sighing, he rubbed his forehead and glanced absently at the stairs. Haven't had enough yet, he thought ruefully as Jenny's voice echoed in his head again.

Your "gut" is not enough, Jethro, she snapped. I have a job to do, and I can't bend the rules every time it suits you. He knew she was right, but that didn't make it any easier to let the case go. And if he was honest with himself, the argument was half just for the sake of riling her up...

She'd stayed seated behind her desk, which he suspected was mostly for the purpose of illustrating her authority. Or keep me from trapping her against a wall and...As he yelled and stepped closer, both hands planted on the desk, he leaned in so close he could nearly feel the shocks as her eyes snapped. The green contrasted with her auburn hair and angrily flushed cheeks in a way that took him back to days of violent arguments that were always so worth it.

Ah, Jen...Those were the days. Scenes involving those same flashing eyes and fiery red flowed through his mind into his body, and he licked his lips. He could practically feel the anger radiating off her, and it always awakened a different feeling in him. She's so damn stubborn. Damn stubborn redhead.

She sure was an opinionated young agent...guess she learned from the best. Moving into her space as they screamed at each other, backing her into a corner where she couldn't escape...like she even wanted to. These damn arguments always ended her way. Shoulda realized once I gave in I was a goner...But he never could stop the inevitable next step. He'd crush against her, knotting fingers through the back of her hair so she couldn't jerk away from his kiss. Not that there was ever any danger of that after the first few seconds. Then I was lucky to hold my own. She used her lips, tongue, and hands all over him to battle for control he tried to hang on to for a few more minutes.

Now he tipped his head back and recalled her nipping at his neck. I always did know when it was time to let her win. He still refused to admit, even to himself, that her relentless assaults left him completely at her mercy. By the time she finished with him, he was always happy enough to let her have her way in whatever matter had started the passionate explosion in the first place. Half the time I couldn't even remember what the argument was...

Not like that damn maid. He considered for a moment a more satisfying ending to that day's disagreement. Pushing her 'til she snapped, or I did. Slamming her against the wall until she bit hard enough to draw blood. Knock the housekeeper case from my mind once and for all. He had known it was an argument he couldn't win, so it was hard to lie to himself about his objectives in starting it. Pissing her off, sure. But only because he needed some way to reignite the fire in those eyes.

Jen. He glanced at the door again...expecting someone? Hoping she'll stop in to finish the argument the right way? If he was honest with himself, he'd have to admit he was passively waiting for her to make a move. Don't wanna screw up her "career." He slammed the mug down so hard the remaining bourbon slopped over the edge. Damn politics. I obviously didn't train her right if she's willing to play politics.

Cursing, he yanked open a cabinet door low on the tool-bench and rummaged through the back. Various hand tools were tossed to the floor, until he emerge with an old cardboard box. Ignoring its other contents, he reached to the bottom and pulled out a single piece of stationary. He stared without unfolding it, able to clearly see the ancient apology in his mind. Sentimental old fool, he mocked himself. She'd laugh if she knew you still had this...if she even remembers the night she left.

But sometimes he could swear it flashed in her eyes. London, Paris, St. Petersburg, Serbia. Nothing but memories to her. A detour taken on her strictly mapped path to success, to get her where she is today.

He poured another ounce of bourbon, then swallowed it in one gulp. Observing again the still-empty doorframe, he contemplated the jar of paint thinner containing his cell phone. Then he fished it out with his fingertips, shaking off the noxious liquid. Damn. He flipped it open and pushed the power button. Nothing. He shook it and smacked it against the workbench...Damn technology.

By the time he remembered he did still have a house phone, the moment had passed. Too much bourbon, too late. Time to call it a night.

Just as well.

It's a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk, and I need you now
Said I wouldn't call, but I lost all control, and I need you now
And I don't know how I can do without
I just need you now

I'm considering doing a part 3, maybe kind of a still-angsty-but-together ending, to the last part of the song..."Guess I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all." So let me know what you think!