Chapter 2: Day One
Jennifer Shepard did not stop her rant. She hadn't been as furious as this in a long time. Not since Gibbs had been flirting with a redheaded suspect while she herself was trying to go caffeine-free for a week.
And he was really in trouble this time. If he hadn't persuaded her to leave her paperwork behind and traipse after him into the field, she wouldn't be stuck in quarantine with him. He had a team for a reason!
Two weeks. She was going to have to put up with him for two whole weeks. In their infinite wisdom, the CDC doctors had decided that they would have to stay together for that time.
The room was tiny. The two single beds rested against opposite walls and there was barely enough spare to walk between the two. There was a small table in another corner, and the final corner had their toilet area. All that consisted of was a toilet and a sink with a little curtain around them for privacy.
The back wall, which the head of their beds rested against, was a mirror. They couldn't see out but anyone could see in. Privacy was impossible to obtain. The lights also never turned off, or if they did, they didn't have access to the switch. They had been informed that this was because they needed to be monitored at all times in case any symptoms emerged.
Not that they had been informed about what symptoms to expect if they were ill.
Her arm still hurt from the needles. The doctor had decided that she was to become a human pin cushion. She wasn't sure she had any blood left in her. And she hated needles. She didn't like them anywhere near her. It hadn't helped that the only familiar face in the room had been surrounded by as many doctors as she had been, meaning that she hadn't been able to see him.
All she wanted to do was go back home. She wanted to curl up in her own bed with a good book, not sit on top of a bed with sheets that made her itch and didn't keep her warm, with nothing to do but count the hours and rant at Jethro.
"Do you think I trust Agent Wofford in charge of my agency?" she continued, glaring at Gibbs. "For two weeks? I can guarantee that World War Three will break out and she won't know how to cope with it. Or Ziva will kill that guy in the evidence garage who keeps staring at her butt. Or Tony will be framed for murder again."
She glanced over at him. He was lying down on his bed with his eyes closed. She knew he wasn't asleep; his breathing would be more even.
"And Abby's got a court day coming up! She likes to get dressed in my office so I can help make sure that she's presentable and she can complain about everything. How is she going to manage?"
Even invoking the favorite didn't persuade him to open his eyes.
"This is all your fault. You should have left me in my office, not infected me with something. I don't even know if I am infected. Two weeks, Jethro! In case you haven't realized, women need privacy. Even a criminal gets more space than this in prison. I've half a mind to shoot my way out of here."
Her ranting was not having any effect. She had a funny feeling she was turning into Abby, simply talking at him and hoping he would answer at some point.
"Now I understand why they took my gun and my knife," she muttered.
He continued to ignore her.
"I wonder how many ways I can kill you without any weapons," she wondered aloud.
Leroy Jethro Gibbs continued to ignore his boss.
He understood that she was a little annoyed. Scratch that – she was more than a little annoyed. If he wasn't sure that the doctors would come rushing in if she tried to kill him, he would be fearing for his safety. He might have taught her the basics, but she had been partnered with Ziva as well and he doubted they had spent all that time discussing their hair.
He was happy to leave her to rant though. She needed to vent her frustration, and anything he said would only make it worse. Three ex-wives had given him some experience with angry women. He vaguely wondered how long it would take her to bring the exes into this somehow.
At least he accepted this better than she did. He wouldn't be able to exercise more than a few push-ups on the floor between their beds, but he didn't mind the lack of privacy. Clearly, she felt differently on the subject.
Her voice washed over him as he continued to muse. What were they going to do for the duration of this? When Jenny calmed down, he planned to start thinking with her. She had always been the more creative out of the two of them.
His thoughts turned back to his team. With a bit of luck, they would survive Tony being in charge. They had managed for the time he was in Mexico and he couldn't see there being much of a problem now. Other than the rowing before he had left, but hopefully they would pull together.
Instead of listening to Jenny, he began to listen for the little things. The low hum of the AC. The pipes creaking slightly as water ran through them. The scratching of the cotton sheets as Jenny ran her fingers absentmindedly across them.
Her voice was beginning to sooth him, as much as he wanted to stick a pillow over her head until she shut up. Now that he wasn't paying attention to her words, he allowed the gentle melody to calm him.
As he fell into sleep, he briefly wondered how they were going to survive for the next thirteen days.