Title: Remembering to Trust
Author: CruorLuna (Alison)
Rating: K+
Characters: Tony, Gibbs, Jenny
Pairings: Jibbs, Tony/Gibbs father/son(ish), Jenny/Tony friendship
Spoilers: Up to the beginning of season five, subtle hints towards later season five though.
Summary: Set about two weeks after 'Bury Your Dead.' Gibbs decides it's time to have a talk with his Senior Special Agent, but maybe Tony isn't the only one with a lesson or two still to learn.

A/N: Chapter two – this is the Jibbsy one, so if you don't like, you don't actually REALLY need to read it to follow the last one. I'm sure you can work out what happens.

"Jethro." Her voice sounded hoarse and weary, he noted, turning to close the door behind him. Coming here had been a very last-minute decision, and he hoped it would turn out to be the right one. That being said, he had no idea how to even begin this conversation – but as it turned out, Jenny saved him the trouble. "If you're here for another argument, then let me save you some time. We've covered this enough times lately, after all. I'm a horrible person for doing what I did; I was wrong; and I'm sorry. That's all you came here for, so now, please, just leave."

"No." Jenny looked up at him, surprise etched on her drawn features. DiNozzo had been right – she was definitely punishing herself.

"Excuse me?"

"No," he repeated firmly. "Not this time. That's not what I came here for."

"Well if you're looking for excuses, I'll have to disappoint you tonight," she said tiredly. "I was blind to everything but my own selfish need to get him, and I was wrong. I shouldn't have done it, and I won't make excuses for it. End of story."

"Did he kill your father?"

"What?" Jenny gaped at him, and he leaned forward, resting his hands on her desk and looking her dead in the eye, searching for a reaction.

"You heard me. Did la Grenouille kill your father?"

"You really think I would have done all of this if he hadn't?"

"Oh, I'm sure you thought he did it," Gibbs said. "I'm sure you were totally convinced of it, if not now then at some point. But I'm not talking instinct here, Jen, I'm talking about evidence. Do you have any proof that your father's death was anything other than suicide?"

"Even if it was suicide, then it still only happened because René Benoît drove him to it," she replied instantly. Her right eye didn't so much as flicker. She at least truly believed what she was saying. "Whether or not he pulled the trigger, I can't prove. But either was he was damn well responsible for my father's death." Gibbs straightened again, satisfied.

"Okay," he said with a nod. She raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

"Okay?" she repeated. "That's it? No lecture; no argument?"

"No argument," he promised. "One question." She shrugged, still seeming completely thrown off by his reaction.

"Go for it."

"Is it over?"

"Oh, come on, Jethro. You know that even if I wanted to, there would be no way in hell for me to get that close to –"

"No, Jen," he cut her off firmly. "I'm not talking about the op, and I'm not talking about Jeanne or DiNozzo. I'm talking about you and him. Is. It. Over?" Jenny stared at him for a long moment, as though trying to figure out if he was, in fact, asking her what she thought he was asking her.

"Yes," she said finally, tilting her chin upwards defiantly. "And I'm not sorry."

"Never asked you to be," Gibbs shrugged. "Feel better?"

"Much." He nodded understandingly. He had been there, fifteen years previously, and he had faced the same choice she had faced; made the same decision to honour his family he was now convinced she had made. He did understand.

"Good," he said quietly. "Then let it go."

"Let what go?"

"The guilt." Gibbs came around behind her chair, leaning down in order to speak quietly into her ear. "You did what you needed to do. Sure, you made a mistake, but you're only human. And you've done what you can to put it right. It's time to stop torturing yourself." Slowly and unsurely, he brought his hands up to circle her shoulders, lowering his head to the crook of her neck and placing a soft kiss there. He felt her shoulders tense underneath him as her breath hitched, but he began to massage the muscles in slow, even circles, continuing to drag his mouth along the juncture between her neck and her collarbone.

"Jethro …" she breathed, tilting her head slightly, unconsciously giving him better access. "Jethro, what are you doing?"

"I'm no good at apologies, Jen," he mumbled against her skin. "But this is about everything that's happened the last two years, and especially the last two weeks. I've been an ass. Let me make it up to you." Jenny shifted slightly in her chair and turned her head to look at him, fisting the fingers of one hand in his hair and drawing his head up so that he had to meet her eyes. She licked her lips slowly.

"Don't play games with me, Jethro." It was more of a plea than a warning, and Gibbs was overcome by the desire to allay her obvious anxieties. He leaned forward and settled his lips gently over hers, applying just enough pressure to coax her into responding. Her lips parted slightly under his and he pressed her a little harder, inserting his tongue between her lips and teasing her own. She groaned softly into his kiss as he rediscovered the contours of her mouth, drawing out the languid kiss for what felt like eternity before finally, slowly, releasing her mouth. Her fingers were still tangled in his hair, holding him close, and he leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling.

"No more games," he murmured, enjoying the way her eyes lit up in relief at his assurance. "No more secrets. Just honesty."

"Honesty sounds like a good place to start," Jenny agreed softly.

"I missed you, Jen," Jethro confessed, and she smiled a little. Honesty it was.

"I missed you too, Jethro," she responded truthfully, this time. He leaned in once more, placing a feather-light kiss on her lips; partly to reassure her, but mostly simply because he could.

"There's one other thing I want from you, Jen." She nodded.

"Anything."