Shepard Girls

by madame.alexandra

In this very au continuation, Jenny is the girl Gibbs meets in high school - his first love, until some unexpected teenage mistakes change their lives, and the paths they take, forever. Jibbs-oriented, 2nd part of a 4 part series. This part focuses on Jenny Natalie.

3. Losing Touch

a/n: well, here we are, half-way through!

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Los Angeles, California: 1992-1993

Losing Touch

---

The condominium was smaller than the elegant one Melanie owned two streets over and one street back. It still had two bedrooms, but there was no spacious parlor, the kitchen was more conservative, and the living room was just enough rather than sprawling and high-ceilinged.

The place was empty, merely skin and bones at the moment, filled with boxes and an unused, subtle scent of newness – and as it were, she thought it was perfect; exactly what she'd needed, and wanted – expensive, yes, but more than she'd hoped for, and as she hoisted a large box on the bed and smoothed her hands over it, she silently thanked God that her mother had taken it upon herself to do this, even if she could hear the annoyance in her father's voice whenever she mentioned it.

True to the half-formed idea she'd suggested years ago, Melanie had stored away her alimony checks in an account for Jenny, promising that it would go towards matching a down payment on a place of her own instead of a money-sucking rental. Despite having less saved than she'd hoped for at this time – Natalie was somehow twice as expensive now than she was as an infant or a toddler! – Jenny had sucked it up, put what she needed towards the condo, financed a decent mortgage payment, and gone for it.

Natalie was going to be eight years old in November; she'd started second grade and sharing that room in Melanie's condo just hadn't been working – Jenny and Natalie had both sprawled into the parlor area, and despite Melanie's carefree and go-with-the-flow attitude, Jenny knew the clutter and inelegance bothered her mother, and she didn't blame her.

The time was ripe for this, and Natalie was thrilled.

It was hectic moving at the beginning of a new school year, but that's why she'd waited until October to sign the lease, so she and Natalie could each get used to their new schedules, teachers and professors, and work load – not that Natalie ever had a workload. Jenny swore that child could blink her eyes and have her homework done, and one-hundred percent correct, to boot.

Hectic, yes; but at least she had Kate Todd around to be some sort of angel of mercy when it came to any help she needed – hell, she never even had to ask Kate.

"This is the last box!"

The woman in question strolled into the master bedroom with a small chest of Natalie's keepsakes, placing it gingerly on a bureau. She'd managed to borrow a truck from someone on the base – who, Jenny didn't know – and it had saved hours of back and forth in Jenny's little coup – the beloved used, slightly banged up, but small and reliable car she'd finally had to give in and buy. Hence her having less than she expected to put towards the condo.

Kate sighed, and wiped her brow.

"You know, in Indiana you couldn't really work up a sweat in October," she said dryly.

"I appreciate your help, Kate," Jenny said warmly. "Where's – ?"

"In her room," Kate answered smoothly. "I don't think she realizes it's so small."

"Of course she doesn't," Jenny laughed. "She's going to have it all to herself; it probably seems like a palace!"

"Small or not, it has a window seat," Kate sighed. "I always wanted a window seat."

"I'm sure I'll never get her out of it," Jenny said.

She looked around at all of her things – it had seemed like so much when she was at her mother's, and it was all overflowing out of everywhere, mutating and morphing into something unstoppable. Here, in her own place…it looked like she had nothing, and in a moment of incredulity, she wondered how her life fit into so few boxes and yet was so financially…intimidating.

She'd bought the car used from one of Kate's co-workers; it had cost her just over five thousand. She had school to pay for – loans deferred, but hanging over her – and now this steep mortgage payment – steep because she wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible – and other expenses just never stopped – she frequently joked to Kate that she'd have less to pay for if Natalie were dumber.

But she'd never wish idiocy on Natalie; Natalie was a force to be reckoned with.

"MOM!"

She came shrieking into the room and jumped up and down, her soft eyes shining.

"The sun shines right through my window – Mommy, can I put flowers on my window seat and make them grow? Sunflowers and – "

"Why don't we just get settled in first?" Jenny placated gently. "I don't know, Bug – you plant flowers there, and you'll leave that window open and attract bees – "

"And butterflies," Natalie agreed. "Oh my god – MOM, can I make a butterfly garden on the window seat?"

Jenny looked at her dryly.

"You were supposed to grow out of the insect thing, you know," she said.

Natalie put her hands over her ears and grinned sweetly, fluttering her lashes.

"But Mommy, you nicknamed me Bug!" she reminded her, and dashed out of the room, no doubt to figure out where else she could possibly come up with a scheme that would give her mother a heart attack.

"I didn't," Jenny said under her breath.

"How did that come about?" Kate asked, amused.

Jenny paused sheepishly.

"Well – I guess I did," she confessed, backtracking. "When I got my first ultrasound, I thought she looked like an insect in there – I kept calling her gnat, like the bug. So she's named Natalie," Jenny rolled her eyes. "Where's that list we're keeping of why teenagers shouldn't - ?"

"Oh, it's cute," Kate said, waving her hand. "So, Gnat – Natalie – Bug."

"Actually, my best friend in Stillwater called her Bug, and her father picked it up," Jenny said. She shrugged. "It stuck – even her grandparents called her that." Jenny licked her lip. "Her grandmother didn't," she amended.

"Now can I ask where the middle name came from?"

"That actually does go on the list of reasons why teenagers shouldn't have kids." Jenny shook her head, and snorted. "Her father picked it. Winter, because she was born in cold weather."

"But November isn't – "

"I know."

Kate giggled; Natalie came back in, and Jenny gave Kate a quick look, silently telling her not to bring up anymore Stillwater questions. No matter what she talked about with Melanie, or Jasper, or Kate – Jenny did not discuss that particular past with Natalie. She found ways to answer honestly if Natalie asked, but Natalie – if ever – rarely asked.

"Can Kate and I have Chinese food for dinner?" she asked. "I want to read my fortune."

"You should ask Kate what she wants to eat," Jenny said matter-of-factly.

She checked her watch and then pushed her hand through her hair. It was about time for her to leave – on top of moving, she had a Parent-Teacher meeting at Natalie's school. Today was the only day she could do it, and Kate was saving her life there, too – at the last minute, Melanie had been unable to babysit, and Kate had offered.

"Chinese is fine," Kate said, turning to Natalie. "What do you need fortune-told?"

Natalie held up her hands.

"The future, Kate, the future," she said solemnly, sounding wise beyond her years.

"Can't get your destiny from a cookie, Bug," sang Jenny. "You got to make it yourself."

Natalie nodded, and moved over to the bureau, taking her box of keepsakes and leaving the room. With a hand on her hip, Jenny sighed and turned to Kate.

"I do need to go – I don't know what this meeting is about," she said dryly, "but it shouldn't last long. You're a lifesaver – "

"Nah, I just like Nat," Kate said easily. She gestured around at the boxes. "Besides, your move got me a hot date."

"Oh, it did, did it?"

Kate nodded smugly.

"How do you think I got the truck?"

Jenny laughed, and turned, looking for her purse and keys. She pushed her hair back again and gestured at herself; Kate inclined her head to tell her she looked fine, but Jenny still thought about changing first – jeans, a youthful looking top – maybe she should finally start dressing more like a mom?

Every time that thought occurred, she blew it off; not yet – she was only twenty-four.

"Oh," Kate said. She spun around and grabbed her ACU backpack. "I brought you this packet, here," she handed a thick file out quickly, and Jenny took it. "You were looking for an internship? That's not paid, but I know an agent at the Los Angeles office, and they're desperate for computer people – look into it, could pan into a job in the future."

She hesitated.

"But the hours may be demanding, and like I said, not paid," she warned.

Jenny nodded, looking over the file's emblazoned brand:

NCIS: Student Programs.

She tucked it away.

"Thanks, Kate," she said again – she was always saying it; thanks, Kate.

Kate nodded, and Jenny peeked in Natalie's room before she left.

"I'm going to meet your teacher," she warned. "Is there anything I need to know first?"

Natalie shook her head.

"I don't know why he wants to talk to you," she said earnestly. "I only read ahead in the book because it was so interesting!"

Jenny nodded, and reached out to give her a kiss.

"Okay," she said. "Always tell me the truth and I'll always trust you," she added pointedly.

She said her goodbyes, and headed out to the car – she felt bad leaving Kate alone in that bare bones apartment, but she really would only be gone for a short while – and then, of course, she'd have to come back an unpack Natalie's room so Natalie could settle in and go to bed, and she'd have to at least unpack her own bed so she could sleep – and then she had about a hundred pages to read in advanced hacking theories, so essentially -

- the drive to Daisy Road Elementary was about all the break she got, and in Los Angeles area traffic, it was hardly relaxing.

She parked her car in the deserted lot and tried not to psych herself out as she made her way to the second grade classroom. She knocked firmly on the half-open door and then walked in, standing patiently with her hand on the door.

Mr. Langer looked up and straightened.

"Mrs. Shepard?" he asked. He stood. "Please, take a seat."

She approached, and looked with amusement at the little desks. She pointed, as if to ask – here? He nodded, and she sat down gingerly, trying not to feel too ridiculous. He leaned against his desk.

"It's, ah, Miss," she corrected, clearing her throat. "And Jenny is fine."

He stepped forward and held out his hand.

"Brent Langer, I'm Natalie's teacher this year."

She nodded, shaking his hand.

"Yes; she likes you," Jenny answered.

She said it cautiously, primarily because she was still unsure of why she was here. Natalie did like Mr. Langer, and she seemed to be doing extremely well in school – as usual – so Jenny was at a loss as to why the teacher had specifically asked to see her, and so early in the school year to boot.

He laughed.

"Well, I'm glad," he mused. "The approval of seven-year-olds is about all that matters to elementary teachers. They're a tough crowd."

Jenny smiled pleasantly, and leaned forward.

"If you don't mind me cutting straight to the point – what's this about?" she asked gently. She held out her hands, palms up. "Natalie loves school. I always check that she does her homework – she's not being bullied, is she?"

"No, Mrs – Miss Shepard," he placated, starting to go on.

Jenny swallowed, and gave him a wary look.

"She's not – the bully, is she?"

She asked it with apprehension and dread, but not in a million years did she think he would answer in the affirmative; Natalie, quite literally, would not hurt a fly.

"No," he denied, with a laugh. "Actually, let me go back to the homework," he said swiftly. "You said you check it – have you noticed anything about it lately?"

Jenny pursed her lips, wracking her brains. Nothing came to mind – Natalie did it all with almost no errors, and it was easy for Jenny to see whether or not she was learning correctly.

"I can't say I have," she said finally, arching an eyebrow. "Unless she's doing it all wrong, and I am infinitely more stupid than I thought."

Mr. Langer laughed, and shook his head.

"On the contrary," he said bluntly, "I've been giving Natalie fourth grade homework for the past week."

Jenny blinked at him. Her face expressed no surprise, and so Mr. Langer's eyebrows went up a little, waiting. She had no way of knowing that, because she was used to Natalie receiving work that was a little more challenging, but she wasn't up to speed on what exactly constituted second grade versus fourth grade assignments.

"You don't seem surprised," Langer stated.

Jenny lifted her shoulders.

"She's been doing basic multiplication since last year," she said frankly. "Mr. Langer, she used nomenclature in a sentence when she was six. I'm used to it."

"I'm not even sure I know what nomenclature means," he snorted.

"Yes, you do," Jenny said, rolling her eyes – but flushing appreciatively at the way he seemed so impressed with her daughter.

She clasped her hands together and tilted her head.

"Is she in trouble for being too smart?" she asked pertly.

Mr. Langer smiled.

"I'm afraid she's bored."

"No," Jenny said quickly. "She's not perfect – whatever you've been giving her is challenging her; that's probably why I didn't notice it was more complex."

"My first month of school is entirely devoted to refreshing these kids on what they've learned so far, and testing them to see where they are – they don't know they're tests, but I do," Langer explained. "Natalie sits right there," he pointed to a desk over to the right, directly in the front, "neatly completes the work in record time, and reads quietly until we're done. Are you aware she's reading, and comprehending, Fahrenheit 451?"

"Yes," Jenny answered, unblinking. "It's my old copy. I didn't have time to buy her a new book."

"That book is taught in high school classes."

"Mr. Langer," Jenny laughed. "She gets the book, she knows it's a story, but she's not analyzing censorship versus the spread of harmful ideas or something."

Mr. Langer held up his hands, smiling.

"I know, I know," he said. "There's a difference. But she's very smart. Her reading level is off the charts. I don't want her to get bored by the pace of this class, and lose interest in school. There's a fine line between being very good in school, and beginning to think you're too good for it."

"Are you speaking from experience?" Jenny asked dryly.

He gave her a quiet smile, and shook his head a little. He hesitated, and folded his arms.

"I'd like to know what you think about Natalie moving up to third grade," he ventured.

Jenny frowned a little. She leaned back in her little desk chair and sat considering him silently. He held up his hands.

"It's not a light decision," he told her. "We don't do it without careful thought – teachers or parents. But the guidance counselor agrees, she'd do fine at that level. Maturity is not an issue."

Jenny nodded. She bit the inside of her cheek.

"You want to move her because second grade is too easy."

"Yes – "

"And you've been giving her fourth grade work."

"Ah – well, yes – "

"And she's doing fine with that, but you're not asking me to up her to fifth grade."

Mr. Langer looked at her curiously, taken aback. Jenny reigned herself in a little – she hadn't meant to sound so hostile. She licked her lips and sat forward.

"I just mean," she began, gentler, "third grade isn't going to be that big of leap, of a difference, if you've been putting higher level work than that in her folders anyway. Right?"

He inclined his head.

"I suppose so. Leaping more than one grade is uncommon, but not unheard of. Natalie would pass a fifth grade placement test easily, I'm sure – "

"No, stop," Jenny said quickly. "I'm not – I'm not concerned about her academics, or her keeping up. The way I see it, she's making you uncomfortable because she doesn't need you – I'm not accusing you of being unkind or anything, please hear me out," she explained. "You want to put her somewhere else so she'll have work. That makes sense, to a certain extent. But third grade? You'd just be putting her somewhere else the work was easy, except everyone is a year older. Fourth grade, same thing – except two years. Fifth grade, maybe she's a little challenged, but she's still ahead of the class, except now everyone is starting puberty and talking about boys, and even staying home alone, and she's eight years old."

Mr. Langer considered her intently.

"I think I see where you're going," he said quietly.

Jenny nodded, swallowing hard.

"I am…beyond thrilled that Natalie is so smart and performs well. Believe me – was it Brent?" he nodded. "Believe me, Brent, every single thing she does that's not delinquent or a disaster is a relief – you know, I had her when I was sixteen; everyone expects that child to be a screw up. It's very important to me that she's not."

"Absolutely," Langer said, bemused.

Jenny hesitated.

"The next thing I know, she'd be a twelve year old at high school, thrown into emotional maturity she'd never be ready for, but assuming she is, since we put her there, and I see myself having a fourteen year old who thinks she's smarter than the world and – yeah, this sounds crazy – who ends up pregnant to prove a point or something."

She thought Langer was going to laugh at her for absurdity, but he looked to be listening intently.

She sighed.

"Everyone thinks it's only deadbeats and screw ups who get pregnant in high school," she said, "but smart girls do it, too, and it's because they think they're too mature, or too smart."

"Are you speaking from experience?" he quipped.

She smiled, and licked her lips.

"The difference between a third and second grader's maturity is negligible. But you know she'll keep being ahead academically; it's just her fate. And if we keep pushing her ahead emotionally … no, Mr. Langer, I think it's best that kids stay within their peer group, socially. When she's much older, and fully capable of talking this stuff out with me, I might consider it, or consider community college while she's in," Jenny faltered, suddenly afraid to talk about Natalie grown up, "high school," she finished slowly, "then we'll discuss it. But now…no, I don't think so."

He folded his arms thoughtfully, staring at her.

"That's very insightful," he said finally. "The two other parents, in my career, who I've had this conversation with were so puffed up with pride they jumped at the chance."

Jenny shrugged.

"I don't need my ego inflated at my child's expense."

He arched his brows.

"Natalie can just read if she finishes early. Or you can continue to give her other work," Jenny said firmly. "She's respectful enough – and if she gives you trouble, I'll fix it, you mark my words – to listen to lectures from you patiently even if she's bored."

"I have no doubt of that," he said easily. "I will say – in some cases, we worry what to do with these kids because they can't fit in with peers, either. The smarts make them outcasts. But Natalie is an exception. The other students don't think she's weird. It's as if somehow she knows how to cater to their level. Not as if she's hiding her intelligence; she just doesn't flaunt it."

Jenny beamed.

"I've told her before that if she feels the need to tell people she's smart, she isn't as smart as she thinks she is."

Langer laughed. He rubbed his forehead, and then rubbed his hands together as if dusting them off. He shrugged. He looked at her for a moment, his eyes warm and pensive, and she noticed that he was – actually very young, with a nicely shaped jaw covered in a thin dusting of five o'clock shadow, and deep grey eyes that swirled like smoke. She smiled a little.

"Well, ah, Miss – "

"Jenny."

"Jenny," he repeated. "That's all I – wanted to say. I, uh – oh," he said, stammering. He turned, and grabbed something, bringing it over to her. He sat on the desk next to her, and gestured to the block letters. "Some students from Berkeley were here hyping up science interests with the kids. They handed out these fliers for a summer camp at UCLA," he explained. "I noticed they only gave them to the boys. I took one for Natalie."

He folded his arms.

"She's good at everything, but she asks all of her questions during science."

"Yeah," Jenny said dryly. "She likes bugs."

"And NASA," prompted Langer. "She very much likes NASA."

"Knew we shouldn't have watched Close Encounters," Jenny muttered. She hid her grimace when she saw the price of the camp, and smiled, folding the thing politely. "I'll look into this," she said vaguely – she debated internally whether or not to let Natalie see it; twelve hundred dollars for a child's two week camp was outrageous, and she didn't think she could afford it.

She got up, and shook his hand.

"Thanks for looking out for her, Brent," she said. She hesitated. "I worry about her…all the time," she admitted, a little tired.

She was always afraid for Natalie, afraid she would screw her up, or stunt her development, or just generally do something wrong. Things like this were encouraging, but then, how much of Natalie's smarts and personality were luck of the draw and not attributable to Jenny? She often wondered if she'd be doing so well if Natalie was slower, or wilder.

But she tried not to dwell on that.

She started out, and Brent Langer cleared his throat.

"You know," he said. "It's a shame I'll still be teaching Natalie for the year."

She turned, shocked; he grinned at her, and shrugged a little sheepishly.

"If I'd bumped her up, I might have asked her mother if she'd like to go out to dinner sometime."

Jenny almost took a step back, she was so startled – it was so far from what she was expecting. Being asked out on a date was so utterly foreign to her – she hadn't dated anyone since Gibbs, and they had been together for four years. Since Gibbs, she had focused only on Natalie, and the male attention she got was either from sleazes at the restaurant, or brief interest from other male students who, upon finding out she had a second grader at twenty-four, affected a barely-concealed grimace of rejection.

She licked her lips.

He winced, and held up his hands.

"I'm sorry if that was inappropriate," he said. "It was just – there's this thing called Foot In Mouth Disease, you see – "

She laughed nervously.

"No," she said. "I'm not – bothered."

She hesitated, and she started to wave it off, turn and leave the classroom and chalk it up to amusement.

But here was a young, good-looking man, looking at her like she was a flesh-and-blood woman worthy of interest and conversation rather than just a waitress, just a piece of meat, or both of those things and an unfortunate fuck up, and she hadn't had that in years; just the mere mention of a date reminded her that she was –

She was lonely, sometimes.

She turned boldly and folded her arms.

"Is there a policy against you simply having dinner with a student's parent?" she asked brazenly.

He rubbed his hand through his hair, and grinned at her charmingly.

She clutched her purse tightly, and about a million thoughts exploded in her head – how to date as a single mother, how she felt, if she remembered how to date, if she liked him, if this was stupid – but the low, constant, humming thought was that – this man knew she had a child. He knew Natalie. Natalie knew him.

And he might be the best choice to test those treacherous, single-mother dating waters with.

---

In an unprecedented turn of events, it was a Saturday night, and Melanie was home in her pajamas – silk pajamas, naturally – but still; she was casual and in for the night, blithely hanging out with her daughter, and while it wasn't uncommon for Jenny to be home doing nothing special on the weekend, it was wildly out of the ordinary for Melanie.

To top it all off, Natalie was out at a – social event.

Jenny sighed, her eyes glued to the film they were watching on Melanie's brand new VHS device. They'd decided to have a girl's night at Melanie's tonight, and the condo was making Jenny feel nostalgic – especially since Natalie was out growing up.

"You think she's okay?" Jenny asked aloud, tapping her teeth with a spoon.

She stabbed it back down in a carton of ice cream and let it sit there. She turned and looked at Melanie.

Melanie smiled indulgently.

"I think she's fabulous."

"She's not too young, right?" Jenny prompted. "She's not too young for a sleepover."

"Jenny, she's almost eight," Melanie laughed. "And I'm the one who thought she should have been allowed to go to that sleepover in kindergarten."

"Okay," Jenny said, holding up her hand. "That mother smelled like patchouli, and that was not cigarette smoke billowing out of her car – and, who wants to have a sleepover for sixteen five-year-olds?" she snorted derisively. "No, there was something wrong there – no way I was letting Bug go to that house."

"Her little friend was so sweet," Melanie said gently.

"That's precisely why I let Tessa come over here to play with Natalie whenever she wanted to."

Melanie shrugged, nodding sagely and pouring some more chocolate sauce over her ice cream. She tasted it thoughtfully, added some more, and tossed her hair back.

"Your father and I used to let you run wild, as long as you were home before the streetlights were out," she said airily. "No worries."

"We lived on military bases!"

"My parents did the same," Melanie said with a shrug.

"Next you'll be telling me she doesn't need a helmet to ride her bike."

"I never wore a helmet," Melanie said dramatically.

Jenny laughed and chucked a pillow at her gently.

"And look how you turned out."

"Ooh, you want to go there, little girl?" Melanie retorted dramatically, pointing at Jenny with her spoon and squinting up one eye, sizing her up like a sniper. "I was a nice, respectable, married twenty-four year old when I had my baby."

Jenny rolled her eyes dramatically and snorted, biting her lip in a grin. She pretended to cold-shoulder her mom and turned back to the movie – it was something they'd rented from Blockbuster, something that Melanie insisted Jenny see because Melanie had represented one of the lower-level actors in it in some sort of contract renegotiation. She kept forgetting to point him out when he was on screen, and the film was boring Jenny.

"You think she misses me?" Jenny ventured.

"No," snorted Melanie.

Jenny glared at her, and Melanie laughed.

"Oh, darling, relax!" she soothed. "Enjoy this – you rarely have nights without that child!"

"I like that child," Jenny retorted. "And I – I have plenty!" she added.

It was truer now than it had been in years past. With more social connections, and thus more people who could possibly watch Natalie, Jenny had some time to hang out with a friend or two from college, or go out on a date or two - -but in between school, her furious work schedule, and Natalie's activities, she still felt like sitting around on a Saturday, without Natalie, was a surreal and absurd thing to be doing.

The only reason she wasn't at work was because there had been a server desperate to make her rent, and since Jenny wasn't in dire need of tips at the moment, she'd switched her shift with the girl. Other than that – Jenny was working her fingers to the bone, lately, in a secret, desperate attempt to be able to send Natalie to this Berkeley summer camp.

And – she was hoping she'd end up getting this NCIS internship Kate had turned her on to, but if it was time-consuming and unpaid, she wouldn't be able to take it. So on the off chance she did get it, she wanted to maybe have enough money to make time for the internship, cut down on hours at work, and rely on her seamstress skills to support them for a while.

Maybe things would come together like that; maybe they wouldn't. The biggest priorities were necessities; after that, Jenny resolved to put Natalie first, so then followed science camp. If she worked hard, she might do something for herself – but usually not.

College was for herself, technically; but it was also to ensure she was never unqualified to work, and thus unable to provide for Natalie. That was certainly why she'd chosen such an unexpected major – because she knew, in this day and age, 'computer stuff' as her mother called it would never be out of demand.

"So," Melanie began lightly. "Where's Mr. Langer tonight?"

Jenny cleared her throat loudly and turned and looked at her mother pointedly.

"Where's Captain Danes?" she retorted nosily.

Melanie arched an eyebrow.

"Max is overseas for a week or two," she said sleekly.

She gave Jenny a look; trying to throw Melanie off gossip was impossible. She was open about her personal life, and she didn't mind telling others about it, so she refused to be intimidated by Jenny's pretense of privacy.

"Have you told Dad you're dating someone?" Jenny demanded loftily.

"Have you told your father you're dating someone?"

Jenny laughed once, loudly, and sarcastically. The day she had that conversation with Jasper was the day it became entirely too serious and too complicated; her father would have his own set of rigid advice for how exactly this should go.

"Dating is a strong word."

"It's the right word, Jennifer," Melanie sighed good-naturedly. "I don't know why you're so squeamish about this."

"Well, let's see," Jenny began dryly, scooping up a large amount of ice cream. "If I were dating Brent, he would be the second man I have dated, ever, yet I'm twenty-four years old and my child is almost eight, as you've just recently pointed out – and by the way he's her second grade teacher, and oh, one more thing – I have no coherent or resolved relationship with Natalie's actual father."

Jenny popped the spoonful of ice cream in her mouth and glared pointedly at Melanie, waiting for a response expectantly. Melanie just shrugged, and turned her eyes to the TV with a slight smirk, swirling her spoon around in her chocolaty sundae.

"So," Melanie said smugly. "Where is Mr. Langer tonight?"

Jenny groaned, but smiled a little, defeated. She sighed, and swallowed her ice cream, spooning up a little bit more.

"He's on duty," she said simply.

Because when he wasn't teaching second grade, Brent Langer was a volunteer fireman, as if devoting his life to the education of small children wasn't gallant enough.

Melanie laughed.

"You have a fetish for people who save people."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Marines, firefighters…" Melanie trailed off.

Jenny shifted uncomfortably, looking away. She checked the time, and then watched the movie for a moment; then she sighed.

"Gibbs wasn't a Marine when I met him, Mom," she said after a moment. "Did you forget that had something to do with me leaving him?"

"I don't think you ever quite understood why you left him," Melanie said frankly, "but men who become Marines don't do it spontaneously. He had that in him. You know it. Just like your father did."

Jenny scowled a little, knitting her brows. She didn't want to think she had a type, but maybe she did – how could two people determine that, anyway? And furthermore, she didn't want to think she went for men who had similar qualities to her father – although that did seem to be the norm for women.

"Has Natalie met him yet?"

Jenny gave her a look.

"She sits in front of him eight hours a day, five days a week," she said dryly.

"I mean has she met him," Melanie said, arching her brow. "In a social setting, has he gone to the beach with you, on one of your roller-blading outings – "

"No, no," Jenny murmured swiftly. "No, this is happening very slowly – "

"Glacial."

"Slowly," Jenny repeated firmly.

She'd accepted a small dinner invitation with Natalie's second-grade teacher, which had taken place about a week after the parent-teacher conference. It had gone well, and the two of them had – cautiously agreed to try it again, and as it stood, they kept cautiously agreeing to do it again and again – dinner, coffee, movies, et cetera.

"He's her teacher, Mom, what do you expect?" Jenny said tensely. "I mean, thank God it's second grade and not like – middle school, that would be mortifying for her; at this age, I don't think she'd really think about it too much."

"But…?"

"I also don't want any upturned noses or sideways glances from other parents or administrators," Jenny said firmly. She set aside her ice cream, suddenly not up for the sweet chill anymore. She folded her arms across her chest and settled back into the couch. "It's just a precarious situation," she admitted.

"Natalie hasn't been through a divorce," Melanie pointed out simply. "She's not hostile to other men in your life – she doesn't really – well, it's not like if your father started dating someone the year he took you to Stillwater," she said frankly.

"That's the problem," Jenny muttered bitterly. She almost left it there, but she'd had recent conversations with Kate about this, and it had been bothering her to admit it to herself, so she figured she'd might as well say it out loud: "I'm afraid…I'm concerned," she amended, "that if I have a conversation with her about dating Brent, it will bring up questions about Jethro."

"Ah," Melanie said. She sounded smug, and Jenny made a face at her. Melanie leaned forward. "You were always so adamant that you had no hard feelings towards Gibbs, that you wouldn't mind him seeing her, or talking about him – "

"Talk and practice are very different," Jenny interrupted edgily. She chewed on her bottom lip. "I know I have not been the most touchy-feely person to him, and I've been gun-shy and nervous about this, but since Desert Storm he hasn't contacted us at all – no phone calls, no packages, nothing," she said tiredly. "I wouldn't even have known he came home if I hadn't finally asked Jackson, and our unspoken rule is that Jackson talks to Natalie and we don't talk about Gibbs."

Last year, when it had been an inordinate amount of time after Gibbs should have returned from Kuwait and Jenny had heard nothing; she'd finally asked Jackson Gibbs – who had told her, stiffly, that Jethro had been badly wounded in Kuwait, but he'd come home the recipient of a Silver Star. The only reason Jackson had known was because the letter of commendation came to Gibbs' last permanent address – in Stillwater.

She didn't even know what had happened – if he'd lost a limb, or his mind, or what sort of injury had incapacitated him. She didn't know where he was now, and neither, she assumed, did his father.

"I don't know what happened," Jenny mused quietly, "because Jethro…loves Natalie very much, you know, whenever I doubt it, I just remember how good he was, seventeen, eighteen, all those eyes on him, and he'd carry her around Stillwater with his head held high, daring anyone to stare…" she trailed off.

She shrugged heavily, and pushed her hair back.

"I can't talk about this stuff with Natalie," she said in a small voice. "She's too young for me to pour my soul out, and I don't know what to tell her if she asks anything sticky, and I'm not so worried about talking to her about Mommy dating as I am worried that the conversation will go directly to 'where do babies come from and where is my daddy.'"

Melanie looked at her steadily.

"Darling, do you think you'll get away with never answering those questions?" she asked simply.

Jenny felt like snapping at her; that really pushed a button – of course she didn't think that, but it was something she very warily dreaded, and she didn't like Melanie pointing it out. Before she could say anything though, Melanie gave her a sly look.

"I'd think you'd want to do it when she's younger, and less likely to ask complex questions – or rebel, and go looking for him or – dye her hair blue – or – "

"Get pregnant?" Jenny supplied coolly.

Melanie shrugged airily.

"She still thinks you can do no wrong now; thinks you're her world and her Wonder Woman," Melanie remarked. "Like I said, you'd rather it come up now."

Jenny looked at her a moment, her pulse racing. She compressed her lips, and tilted her head.

"That's devious," she decided softly, feeling a little taken aback.

She didn't want to brainwash Natalie; she just didn't want to talk about Gibbs. He was such a sore subject; maybe because she'd never really gotten over him – because she hadn't left him because she didn't love him; she'd just left him because – she was young, and there was so much left to figure out, then.

Jenny frowned, and got up, taking her ice cream to put it up. She took a bottle of wine from the refrigerator and uncorked it, grabbing two glasses. She silently reflected as she poured, and then brought them back over, handing one to her mother.

Melanie took it, inclining her head in thanks. Jenny resumed her seat, and inhaled the heady scent of the wine – she needed a glass; deserved it. Melanie was silent for a moment, and then she looked over, smiling brightly.

"Ah, but on a slightly related, and yet different, note," she drawled carefully. "You like him, don't you? Brent."

Jenny pressed her wine glass to her lips, and tried to withhold a smile; she couldn't, she swallowed the dry red thoughtfully, and lowered her glass, swirling it elegantly before shrugging a little.

"Yeah," she allowed huskily. "I like him."

She did like Brent Langer – and that was a good thing; she liked liking him, but she also liked feeling it out, and taking it impossibly slow. She didn't want to disrupt Natalie's life, and she didn't want to get herself into something she couldn't deal with, so for now, she was content to just keep agreeing to 'do this again sometime.'

---

"Jenny, do you want any of this eggnog?"

Jenny made a face and shook her head, declining as her mother took the pitcher out of the refrigerator. She pushed her hand through her hair and kept her eyes on Natalie.

"Um," Natalie was saying, holding the phone delicately to her ear. "I got a book on butterflies, and a book on space. About space travel!"

She paused, pacing around the room and looking at her presents.

"It's called Contact," she said. She paused, and then she said matter-of-factly: "Well, Grandpa Jack, I'm going to be an astronaut."

Jenny laughed, and leaned forward, taking her coffee in hand and holding it to her lips. It was early on Christmas morning, and Natalie was having her usual holiday call with Jackson Gibbs. Jenny always wondered what he thought of her, as Natalie was so very much not the type of girl you raised around Stillwater. But then – Jenny hadn't been, either, and no doubt Jackson had occasionally thought Jenny poisoned Gibbs' good sense.

"Mm-hm," Natalie murmured. "Mm-hm – no, no pets." Her blue eyes found Jenny's accusingly. "I want a bird or a dog, but Mommy says no."

Jenny rolled her eyes good-naturedly – they lived in apartment, there were all kinds of extra fees for pets! Besides, the only thing Jenny was interested in was a dog, and she didn't think this small space would be fair to the animal.

Melanie came around the couch and sat down, handing something over to Jenny.

"Here, some mail came for you at my place," she said blithely. "Mostly just magazines, but there's a letter, too."

Jenny took them and laid them in her lap, glancing at them with mild interest.

"You seeing Brent today?" Melanie asked.

"Ah, no," Jenny said carefully. "He's in Oregon, with his parents."

She wouldn't have been seeing him anyway. Things were progressing well, but not well enough for him to be part of her and Natalie's family Christmas – and this was their first in their own little place. It was special, and protected. At least now, Natalie knew that Brent and Jenny 'hung out' because they were 'very good friends.'

Melanie nodded. She gave Jenny a smug look and preened a little.

"The Captain is taking me up in the plane today. We're having a wine picnic at the Hollywood sign."

Jenny gave her a look.

"I never believe your life is real," she sighed dramatically.

"I'm going to convince him to fly me to Hawaii," Melanie said dramatically.

"Not in that little novelty plane, Mom," Jenny warned nervously.

Melanie's boyfriend – her serious one, as it were – was an Air Force officer who flew at work and flew for pleasure. This guy seemed to be sticking; Jenny had met him, and she liked him; he reminded her eerily of her father, except since Jenny wasn't his flesh-and-blood, he didn't particularly care that she was an unwed disgrace.

"I got an A in spelling because I can spell onomatopoeia," Natalie said. "So, I get to go to the county spelling bee, and then maybe the regional, and then maybe state. Grandpa Jack, you know what? If I win, I might get to go to Science camp!"

Jenny smiled, biting the inside of her lip. She was nervous about this spelling bee drama – she was pleased Natalie was winning, naturally, but she was afraid Natalie was putting too much pressure on herself because she thought the only way she was going to Science camp was if she won 'extra money' for Mommy.

Jenny had already decided she was going to go no matter what; Jenny would just either borrow the money from Melanie and pay her back, or she'd scrap the idea of buying herself a home computer for easier school work and make sure Natalie got her supplemental work instead.

Jenny looked down at her lap and lazily flicked through things, expressing no particular interest in the mail until her thumb flipped a neat white envelope up from the mass of junk. She frowned and pulled it out, her eyes scanning it quickly. It was addressed to both her and Natalie, their names in neat cursive on the front.

Her eyes darted quickly to the return address. Kaneohe Station – Hawaii. Sharply, she looked up at Melanie; had the reference to Hawaii been a subconscious clue, or a slip.

"Mom," she said in a quiet voice, turning her head from Natalie. "Did – did Jethro call the house?"

Melanie blinked, sipping on eggnog calmly.

"Mine? No," she said simply, shrugging.

Jenny's brow furrowed. She sat forward and started to slide her thumb under the closure of the envelope, and as she did, Natalie came forward, stopping in front of her.

"Mm-hm. Yes, Grandpa Jack. Yes, I promise – I love you, too. Okay, okay – but President's Day is a holiday," she giggled. "You can call me then." She handed the phone to Jenny and twirled over to Melanie.

"Melly, can you fix my bow? It got caught on the Christmas tree!"

Jenny took the phone and held it to her ear.

"He misses me," Natalie said conversationally to Melanie. She pursed her lips. "That is very sweet, since I've never met him."

Jenny turned.

"Yes, you have," she corrected. "Think back hard, Bug," she encouraged dutifully – she never aided Natalie in forgetting people if she could help it. She turned to the phone. "Jackson?"

"Hey there, Missy," he said in his gruff voice. "Merry Christmas."

"You too, Jackson," she said.

"Appreciate her callin'," he said. "I'd rung that number of your mother's, and didn't get no one."

"Ah, right," Jenny said. "Natalie and I moved – let me get you the number," she said, waiting for him to tell her he was ready.

He took down the number, and then cleared his throat.

"Well, I reckon I'll get my package back then – "

"No, Mom still lives there, she'll send it on over," Jenny soothed, suddenly looking at the letter in her hand and up to her mother.

Melanie was busy fussing with Natalie's curls. She frowned a moment, but didn't say anything.

"How's the store?" Jenny asked politely.

"Business as usual. Guess who had a baby?"

Jenny swallowed.

"Who?"

"Betsy Carmichael. She up and ran off with some boy from New York who broke down at our gas station. Came back with a baby, married Chuck."

Jenny, surprisingly, took no pleasure from that – a sign of maturity, she figured. She sighed.

"Poor Betsy," she murmured, wondering what life as Chuck's wife would be.

"Yeah, Chuck's runnin' the mines, now," Jackson said.

"Running them, never getting his hands dirty," Jenny said, with some slight bitterness. She flashed back to the late eighties, when Gibbs had always been sooty and dirty, tired and sore from busting his ass, and still willing to carry Natalie on his shoulders down to get a scoop of ice cream.

Her eyes stung.

"Hey, Jackson," she said steadily, her voice controlled. "I've got to get going – traditional beach time," she said.

Ever since the first year, when she'd told Natalie California was the kind of place you could do Christmas on the beach, they'd always gone. They made sand angels and sandmen and chased each other in the freezing water.

"Send me some pictures of that spelling bee? I bet she'll win," he said gruffly. He hesitated. "Ann woulda been so proud of that child."

"Thanks for saying that, Jack," Jenny said softly.

"S'true," Jackson grunted.

Jenny ran her thumb along the open envelope in her lap, coaxing the card out a little. It was a brightly colored Christmas greeting, and before she hung up, she steeled herself and took a deep breath.

"Is, um – ah," she broke off. "Do you know where he is?" she asked finally, defeated.

"Leroy?" Jackson was quiet for a long pause. "Haven't heard from 'im. But I got a Christmas card from Hawaii."

Jenny didn't say anything else.

"Goodbye, Jackson," she said finally.

He said his gruff goodbye, and she hung up, taking out the card. She eyed the picture for a moment – Snoopy and Woodstock, engaging in some festive antics, and then she opened it, her eyes scanning over the generic greeting, and the handwriting –

Thinking of you, and always wishing you well. Love Daddy – Jethro.

'Daddy' was crossed out, as if there was uncertainty, and the handwriting swooped and swirled, neat and confident; nothing like Jenny had ever seen Gibbs write in his entire life. She checked the return address again, and then stared at the message. She wondered if Jackson's card had the same writing.

Something heavy in her stomach turned over, and she folded the card, staring at the front hollowly.

He must have gotten married. And whoever she was must be unsure if she could sign the card 'Daddy' or not.

"What's that?" Natalie asked.

Jenny jumped; she was suddenly standing right in front of her, curious eyes wide. She grinned.

"Look, its Snoopy!"

Jenny nodded. She turned.

"Mom," she asked. "Have you – been getting other stuff? Packages, calls from him?"

Melanie shook her head.

"No, darling," she apologized quietly. "I wouldn't keep them from you."

The flare of hope died; she had realized Gibbs didn't know they'd moved. Her wariness about the absence of gifts and phone calls had faded for a moment; maybe she'd just been forgetting to check if they went to Melanie's!

She placed the card neatly in her lap; no, something had happened – something else was going on in Gibbs' life.

"Who is this from?" Natalie took it. She looked at it, and then pursed her lips. "Oh, Daddy," she said lightly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Oh, it's scratched out." She looked up, brow furrowed. "Do I call him Jethro now?"

Jenny snatched the card with more force than she meant to. She folded it in with the junk mail and got up.

"Don't worry about him, Bug," she said tensely. "Are you ready for the beach?" She sounded terse, and she knew it.

She shuffled her things together, trying to ignore the hurt look she got from her daughter. She sighed and put the things aside. She rubbed her forehead.

"Wait, Nat, you need to call Grandpa."

"But I did!"

"My Daddy," Jenny reminded her. "Grandpa Ghost."

For a year or so, Natalie had confused Jasper with Casper and referred to Jenny's father by the friendly ghosts' name. Jokingly, Jenny differentiated between the two grandpas by calling her own father Grandpa Ghost.

Natalie crawled up on the couch and reached for the phone; she talked to Jasper more often, she knew his number by heart. She held the phone to her ear, letting it ring, and she looked at Jenny thoughtfully.

"I wonder what Daddy is doing," she mused innocently. "I should send him a picture. I should draw him a gecko."

She said it with such a blasé attitude; with such carefree nonchalance. Jenny started to answer, but Jasper must have picked up the phone.

"BOO!" Natalie shrieked into the receiver. "It's me, Grandpa, I'm a ghost!" She burst into laughter, and Jenny leaned back, momentarily catching Melanie's eye over her little head. She frowned; no, she didn't want to talk about it – no, she didn't want to investigate or press anyone for information.

Natalie chattered to Jasper, her fingers tangled up in the chain around her neck. Jenny rolled her eyes and lightly swatted at the dog tags, uttering the customary order for Natalie to get them out of her mouth. She knew she said it with more animosity than usual this time, but she couldn't help it.

She compressed her lips, and closed her eyes, leaning back while she patiently waited for Natalie to get her fill of conversation. She wanted to be on the beach, playing, away from thinking about this – whatever it was, whatever it meant. She wished Brent would come home – Brent would distract her; she and Brent had plans for New Year's Eve – she'd agreed to it only if it was early, so she could be home to watch the New York City ball drop with Natalie.

---

The Los Angeles NCIS subordinate office was an interesting place; it looked somewhat like a federal agency had rented out some office space and then tried to make it look – homey, or welcoming, or something. It was in fact closer to Kate's Seal Beach Naval station than to Jenny's apartment, or to Cal State Long Beach, but the drive out wasn't too bad – and this was her second drive out; not for an interview, but for confirmation.

The Agent she'd been working with sat back down at his desk, a stack of papers in his hands.

"You're our primary," he was saying gruffly. "Meaning, we'll also be vetting two alternates, but if you check out, you'll be cleared and your spot is guaranteed," he explained.

He tapped his hand on the file.

"It's a hell of a lot of paperwork but ma'am, this is the government," he said dryly.

Jenny nodded, tensely tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"I understand," she said swiftly. "And – I'll work under you?"

"Tangentially, with my team," he answered, peering at her with a sort of calculating look. "This endeavor is new to me," he said, rolling his eyes slightly. "Computers," he muttered, as if he was skeptical of the whole thing. "Headquarters is starting up Cyber departments all over, and it turns out most of the people who know computers are," he gestured to her, "interns."

Jenny beamed, relieved.

"So," he said, going on. "We'll start to process you clearance, and we'll give you some preliminary training dates. First, though, I'll go over the basics with you – you're a junior?"

"Yes," Jenny answered. "I'll be a senior when term ends in May."

"Good," he muttered, glancing over her file. "I don't understand these requirements," he muttered, looking over the internship announcement and requirements. "I'm sure you do, that's the problem these days," he muttered the names of some computer programs skeptically, and then looked up. "You're a non-traditional student?"

"I'm full time," Jenny said. "But I started when I was twenty-two, so I'm older than most – I also have a full time job –"

"Waitressing," he noted, nodding at her resume.

"Yes, sir – but my performance academically makes up for my lack of practical experience so far – "

"Don't worry about selling yourself, Miss Shepard, you're a female and you know computers, we need you," he said dryly. "If we keep going the current direction of quotas and political correctness, you'll be running NCIS by the millennium."

Jenny wasn't sure whether to be offended or not – she wanted this position, but she didn't necessarily like the implication that she got it to satisfy a demographic; she knew she was qualified and would perform well, and Kate had implied it might turn into a job – getting a foot in the door was important.

She settled for polite silence, and the agent cleared his throat.

"Since the department is new, you'll actually benefit more," he said, meeting her eyes. "Usually interns do grunt work – get agents coffee, transcribe interviews and interrogations, run down credit reports," he listed. "Considering who is in charge of the new Cyber program, you'll probably be working fairly importantly with us – without a paycheck, unfortunately."

Jenny spread her hands out.

"I came in well aware of that," she said. "The experience is valuable, and I've been financially planning for this possibility."

He nodded.

"I'm glad to hear it – until we clear you, as I mentioned, you'll be in classes instructing you on procedure. Those are generally done during the employees' workday, so I'll furnish you with a list so you can pick which times fit with your schedule."

Jenny nodded; she took the list she was handed.

"We generally expect interns to be full-time during the summer," he paused, and peered at her thoughtfully, "do you have a conflict with that?"

Jenny swallowed, hesitating. If she did that, she'd still need to work a few nights a week just to make sure she had at least an emergency income; her saved funds were for car payments, insurance, the condo payment, and Natalie – but then, she could just take out a loan if she needed to; doing all this was to be financially secure in the future, anyway.

The only problem was, did she really want to leave Natalie alone for eight hours a day all week? It wouldn't be such a problem when camp started, and she planned on getting her into some recreational sports, but childcare –

"You can discuss the hours with Hetty, anyway," the Agent said. "She's – unorthodox, and as I keep telling you, it's a new department. Who knows what she'll want you to do."

He handed her a thick file next.

"This is your security clearance paperwork. You need to fill it out truthfully and completely, down to the letter. An investigation will be done to determine if you're eligible, and when it's finished, you'll begin duty."

Jenny opened the file and started flipping through it, a little daunted. She glanced at all the information needed, looked up, and furrowed her brow.

"How extensive is this?"

"For you? You're young; it will cover basically your whole life. Nothing juvenile, but back to sixteen."

Jenny chewed on the inside over her lip. She grit her teeth, and then sighed, resigned.

"I don't have contact with my daughter's father," she admitted. "I wouldn't know how to list him – "

"Are you married to him?"

Jenny blinked.

"No, of course not," she answered – she thought it was an absurd question; if they were married, why would she have no idea where he was?

"If you aren't married, and you don't live with him, he's not even an individual you list," the Agent said matter-of-factly.

"What are the chances he's contacted?"

The Agent looked somewhat amused.

"Is he some sort of criminal, Miss Shepard?"

She laughed.

"The opposite," she said. "He's a Marine. But contacting him might stir up unhappy memories, so – "

"Well, as I said, he probably won't be contacted unless the investigation turns up information that indicates we need to speak with him – would anyone suggest you could be blackmailed by him over your child, something like that?"

Jenny looked appalled.

"No, I - ," she paused. "God, I don't think so." She stared at the agent for a moment, and then shook her head. "No, I'd never sell secrets over that," she said firmly.

She may not have contact with Gibbs, but it wouldn't end her world if he sued for rights to Natalie or something. It would be strange and possibly devastating, but she wouldn't call the Russians about it.

"How old is she? Your daughter."

"Eight."

The Agent seemed to do a double take, and Jenny smirked a little – she was so infinitely used to it these days.

"Ah," he said. "And he last saw her…?"

Jenny winced.

"She was…four. I don't know, maybe five. Maybe three."

The Agent just stared at her a moment, and she flushed, sorry she'd brought it up. But if someone was going to go ambush Jethro about her, she'd need to be prepared to deal with the possible backlash or fallout. She cleared her throat and gave him a please-change-the-subject look, and he handed her some more forms.

"That's for your temporary ID card," he told her. He shuffled around, and then handed her something else. "This is a waiver – in case an Agent takes you out with him or her and you're injured or," he paused, and then coughed, and went on, "injured or, er, killed," he finally said bluntly.

She didn't react much, and he seemed relieved. He pointed to some parts.

"It acknowledges that you will be in the vicinity of firearms, possibly defense and offensive driving, et cetera," he went on, handing her something else, "and this is a non-disclosure act; self-explanatory."

Jenny neatly placed them all together in the bag she'd brought, and clasped her hands in her lap, her back straight. He leaned back in his chair and picked up the phone on his desk.

"I'll call Hetty to give you a tour – Hetty will be your point of contact, your supervisor," he said. He paused. "Did you allot time for a tour? I didn't realize you had a child."

She nodded – because she had carefully not mentioned Natalie in the interview, in case they came up with some false conception of her inability to work the same as everyone else due to motherhood. Now, she was able to nod her head firmly.

"Yes, I put the whole day aside for this," she said eagerly – Natalie was at school, of course, but this meeting hadn't started until two; in a very unprecedented first-time event, Natalie was going to stay after with Mr. Langer, and if Jenny was later than four, Kate was going to take her once she was off duty.

The nervousness of beginning the administrative process for her internship at NCIS was absolutely nothing compared to how nervous she was about leaving Natalie with Mr. Langer – particularly since Natalie had caught Jenny kissing Mr. Langer recently.

The conversation that followed had Jenny actually confessing that she was 'seeing' the man, yes, just like Melly was 'seeing' Captain Danes – but no, Mommy was not letting Mr. Langer have sleepovers in his underwear, like Melly did Captain Danes. Jenny was specifically annoyed by that question, because it was how she found out that Melanie had Max Danes sleep over even when she watched Natalie.

Jenny blinked, trying not to get too lost in her thoughts – but she did wonder what kind of questions Natalie was posing to Brent, though she seemed unfazed about the teacher dating thing.

The Agent was hanging up his phone call.

"Here's the good thing," the Agent said. "Usually, our internships do not in any way guarantee jobs or even increase your chances – but with this Cyber stuff becoming massive, and federal agencies needing to stay ahead of the game, NCIS isn't likely to risk letting talented people go and end up at the FBI or some rag-tag agency like that."

Jenny laughed a little at the jab – who the hell else would call the FBI rag-tag?

"We'll most likely contract you for the summer, and then see about taking you on for some kind of trail period post-Graduation. Although – coming on at NCIS requires a general willingness to relocate, but we can get to that if it ever becomes serious."

Jenny tried not to express too much eagerness, but the idea of perhaps graduating with a job – and a decent, good job, at that – was almost too much. It would mean being able to breathe a little instead of panicking as she rushed to take the first IBM or Microsoft offer that game along, just to be able to keep up with bills.

"Any questions?"

"No, Sir, you've given me more than enough to keep me busy," Jenny said, shaking the files a little.

"You're welcome to fill all that out here today, since you blocked the time out. That way there's no need to make a second trip."

Jenny nodded her head in thanks, and a knock at the door drew both of their attentions. She turned, and the Agent stood up.

"Hetty," he greeted pleasantly.

"Special Agent McLane," a woman's voice greeted wryly. "I hope you haven't filled this young lady's head with your negativity concerning computers and women."

Her tone was teasing, and Jenny smiled. She was a short woman, with neatly done hair and large, almost distracting glasses, and yet there was something about the sharp light in her eye that suggested she was formidable, and extremely respected.

"Now, Hetty, you know I don't mind women," Agent McLane muttered sheepishly. "The computers, though – "

"We'll see that they're run by women," Hetty snorted. "The fairer sex is much more adaptable to change – wouldn't you say, Miss Shepard?"

Jenny was glad this woman knew her name, and she smiled, reaching out to shake her hand.

"I'm no stranger to it," she allowed bravely.

"Jennifer Shepard, this is the head of our special projects division, Henrietta Lange," Agent McLane said gruffly. "She has an uncanny knack for being smarter than all of us. Hetty, Jennifer Shepard."

"Berkeley, is that right?" Hetty.

"California State, Long Beach," Jenny corrected with a shrug. "My daughter's a Berkeley girl, though, for now," she added smugly.

"Good heavens dear, you certainly can't have a college age daughter," Hetty said, eyes as wide as an owl's.

Jenny shook her head.

"Second grade advanced science camp," she said proudly. "She can tell you the Latin name of just about anything."

Hetty smiled, and beckoned warmly.

"I should like to hear more about that – come, Miss Shepard, come, I'll give you the grand tour of where we'll have you this summer."

Agent McLane waved as she let Hetty take her out into the hall. The smaller woman looked up with curious eyes, and gave her a sly wink.

"I have a feeling we've made a very good decision with you," she said matter-of-factly. "My feelings are well-respected around here."

Jenny felt relieved that someone thought so; she wasn't used to many people thinking she was such a delightful investment. Even if they liked her or thought her smart, when they found out Natalie and calculated her age, there was always an edge of – condescension there somewhere.

"Are there any of those training dates that pose a conflict with your classes?" Hetty asked, leading her past a breakroom.

"No," jenny said, summoning her courage. "But – well, one of them I'll need to miss; my daughter is in the state spelling bee, and I can't miss it."

"No, you can't," Hetty said firmly. "You'll be there." She was thoughtful for a moment. "And I suppose we'll need to work out some sort of adjusted work schedule for you – you can't be paying for childcare full time if we're not paying for you," she laughed.

Jenny looked at her, and smiled, feeling as if a certain weight was lifted off of her shoulders. She looked down at the files in her hands and grinned, biting her lip to try and disguise her excitement just a little. This had gone from something Kate had half-mentioned to a reality, and a promising one at that – and she couldn't wait to get back and tell Natalie all about it.

---

The University of California, Berkeley's Science Camp set up was so grand and impressive that Jenny was at least content with having to borrow money from her mother for the house payment this month. From day one, Natalie had enjoyed every waking second of the program, and these last few days, she had enjoyed ever sleeping moment as well – the last three nights were sleepaway camp, and one of them had consisted of camping on campus, which Jenny was sure Natalie had loved.

She'd been worried, but at the final presentation of the students' science fair projects, Natalie had assured her that she hadn't been scared at all, and it had been so much fun! Even if she was only one of three girls at the camp, and they had to make friends with all the smelly boys.

"Her project was impressive," Brent remarked, taking a seat next to Jenny in the second row of the auditorium – the program was closing, and it was time for the presentation of the Science Fair awards, among other special recognition.

Jenny glowed with pride.

"Wasn't it cool? And most mothers don't want their kids playing with fire," she said smugly.

He put an arm around her shoulder and she leaned into him casually. She rested her bag on the seat next to her for Kate.

"You think she'll win?" Jenny asked, eyes on the empty stage.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Brent answered.

Jenny sighed, preening.

"When I first moved here, I picked up these brochures from Stanford and Berkeley and Irvine just to torture myself, I guess, show myself what could have been – and now she's eight and she's already here. Where's she going to be in ten years?"

"Harvard?" tried Brent seriously.

"Oxford," Jenny supplied, laughing.

"MIT!"

Jenny turned to find Kate moving her bag, and taking her seat. She shrugged, and grinned.

"She could be an engineer."

Jenny leaned over and gave her a hug. Kate beamed and squeezed her shoulders, glancing at Brent and giving him a wave.

"I'm glad you could come," Jenny said earnestly.

"Yeah, no problem," Kate said. "Anything for the first female head of NASA," she said matter-of-factly. She glanced at Brent again, and then leaned in and lowered her voice. "So, how did it go?" she asked subtly.

Jenny flushed slightly, giving her a look – with Natalie gone the last few nights, she'd taken the opportunity to stay at Brent's place for the first time – despite how long they'd been seeing each other. Granted, now it was more open, since Natalie was out of his class and they were more comfortable with each other – but it had still been a big step.

She arched one eyebrow at Kate and nodded, smirking a little.

"Did you sleep with him?"

"Yes."

Kate pinched her ribs and smirked, pointedly not looking at Brent this time. She turned to the front with practiced nonchalance, and Jenny relaxed back into her seat, feeling the press of Brent's arm against the back of her shoulders.

She'd originally intended to only stay one night at his place, if it seemed natural, but she'd ended up staying all three, leaving this morning to get ready for Natalie's event. That probably hadn't been the best idea, considering now she had no idea when it would happen again, and after roughly seven years of no sex, she'd been vividly and shockingly reminded of what she was missing – with a man who was not an inexperienced teenager, at that.

The peculiar thing was, she'd spent nearly an hour in bed this morning wondering what it would be like to sleep with Jethro, now that they were both older – and she assumed he'd had a few more women, since she was so convinced he'd gotten married. She'd tried to shake those thoughts, though; it wouldn't do to be thinking of an old flame when the current one was making her huevos rancheros.

"Hey," Brent said, rubbing her shoulder. "I was thinking of taking Natalie to that place on the boardwalk after this, as a reward," he suggested. "My treat."

She hesitated – Natalie didn't often spend time with them together, though at this point she was fully aware, as far as her understanding could go, that Mommy was seeing Mr. Langer, and it was okay to say he was her boyfriend. But she shrugged her shoulders, and smiled; if she was going to be intimate with this man, it had to mean she trusted him with both the emotional and physical safety of her child – at least, that's the pact she'd made with herself a few months ago when the question of sex came up between them.

She wasn't sleeping with anyone who wasn't worthy of being around Natalie.

"She'd love that," Jenny said.

Kate elbowed her hard, and pointed; the camp class was filing out to take their seats. As one of the only girls, Natalie was easily spotted, and she still had a smudge of soot on her eyebrow from the demonstration of her project. Jenny waved at her, and she giggled, her tongue caught between her teeth.

The ceremony started with a short speech by some very important head of department who had mentored the students, and then the awards began – after a short 'everyone-is-wonderful' speech by the program director. Then it was three honorable mentions, a most unique, third place, and –

"Second place, Miss Natalie Winter Gibbs!"

Natalie hopped up to run and mount the stage, and Jenny, caught off guard for the merest of seconds, almost forgot to start clapping, until Kate elbowed her hard again.

"Second?" she hissed at Brent. "But her project – "

"Jenny," he laughed, leaning over to kiss her cheek pleadingly. "Remember, here she's among other geniuses," he soothed.

Jenny was so used to Natalie being above average in settings where she always succeeded miles above the rest, that it was a genuine shock to hear her come in second. She wasn't disappointed though – this was an advanced science camp at Berkeley. This second place award could still carry weight on her college applications.

The winner was a small, stereotypical looking boy with large circular glasses and an inhaler sticking out of his pocket.

Jenny smiled brilliantly as Natalie stood in a row with the others – she was the only girl, and taller than both of the boys. She had on the most gorgeous dress – Jenny had splurged on it for her for presentation day – and she'd done her own hair this morning, basically just brushing it and letting it fall down her back. Jenny never cut her hair except to trim it and keep it healthy, and until Natalie expressed an interest in what she wanted to do with it, it would remain long.

"Look at her, she's so cute!" Jenny squealed. "That little lab coat – I could die," she gushed. "I'll get her some little glasses and she'll be a regular Marie Curie."

"Don't wish glasses on her, Jenny," Kate snorted, "She's on her way to being a Weird Science nerd fantasy, and you want to ruin it by making her Four-Eyes?"

Jenny laughed, rolling her eyes at Kate. She didn't want to think about Natalie getting much older – most of the time, she couldn't really believe her daughter was eight years old; more than that, she couldn't believe she herself was so accustomed to motherhood now, and so in control of where her life was going.

"How did I get so lucky?" she mused out loud.

"Perseverance, determination, stubborn will," Brent listed, ticking off his fingers. "This isn't luck, babe."

Jenny tilted her head, as the applause died down. She smiled at him.

"I don't know, Brent," she murmured.

She often asked herself how much of this was just how Natalie was, and how much of it was her influence. Yes, Jenny had kept Natalie in school, kept her fed, safe, warm, and made sure she always knew that above anything, she came first, but did that account for Natalie's personal drive, her smarts, and her curiosity?

The question was, would Jenny have been as successful as a mother if Natalie had been an infinitely more difficult child?

There were still years to come, after all.

"Whatever you're thinking, just make sure you tell Natalie that it's what I said – perseverance, all that good stuff," Brent joked.

Natalie trailed off the stage, and the director announced that next would be superlatives. They went through the list of unique designations: best at physics, class clown, most likely to be a mad scientist, and then –

"Most Likely to Succeed, Miss Natalie Winter Gibbs!"

Jenny grabbed Brent's knee excitedly, and then clapped with all her heart, watching Natalie go back up to take the certificate and the little Berkeley spirit pin. She felt more successful in this moment than she'd ever felt in her life, and she was suddenly seized with a fierce sense of confidence.

"We awarded this honor to Miss Natalie not only because she showed an irrepressible desire to learn, even when she struggled with a concept, but also because she was uplifting and helpful to her peers. It is our belief that well-liked individuals with inquiring minds and excellent people skills have the brightest futures."

Jenny turned to Brent, her eyes glittering.

"I'm so glad I got her out of Stillwater," she choked. It was one of the few times, when she really thought about it, that she was fiercely, aggressively, and unabashedly proud that she had run far away from that little town so she could try to give this accidental child so much more.

She lunged forward and hugged Brent, pressing her lips to his quickly.

"Thank you, Brent," she breathed.

He laughed, rubbing her shoulders.

"What did I do? She came to me that smart," he snorted.

Jenny poked his chest, and kissed him again swiftly, before a poke from Kate reminded her that people were watching.

"You gave me the flier," she reminded him. "You treated her equal to the boys."

Brent shrugged, his brow furrowed, amused – of course he had; he was raised in Portland, after his parents left the Haight-Asbury district for a more family-friendly area; his father was a philosophy professor and his mother's familial female activism went back to Seneca falls – he hadn't seen Natalie as male or female, but as a smart kid who deserved all the supplements she could get.

Like that, the ceremony was over, and Jenny was up and rushing to find her daughter.

Natalie came skipping over, holding up her pin and medal. Jenny crouched down to hug her, and then wipe the soot from her brow with a moistened thumb.

"I am so proud of you," Jenny cried. "I am so, so proud of you," she repeated.

"Even if it's just second?" Natalie asked.

Jenny felt a flicker of disappointment in herself for that moment of annoyance she'd had when Natalie hadn't been awarded first; she realized it wasn't that she cared about the placing, she'd just been surprised. Now, she stroked Natalie's hair, and nodded firmly.

"Just second? Look at what you accomplished," she said warmly. She patted Natalie's cheek affectionately. "You made friends, you learned so much, you put your heart and soul into it – honey, you're my hero."

Natalie giggled, leaning forward to kiss Jenny's cheek. She stepped back and held up her medal.

"Look, Mr. Langer," she said politely. "I did it!"

"That means one day, I get to tell all the media outlets I taught the illustrious Natalie Gibbs back with she was just a child prodigy and not yet the formidable astronaut we all know and love."

Natalie gave him an amused look and crossed her arms.

"I think I want to study dinosaurs now," she announced. "Logan, he did a project on fossils, and he said there's a book on how you can make dinosaurs come back, and a movie, and I want to read it."

"She's talking about Jurassic Park," Brent muttered.

"I'll look into it, Bug – the movie is too violent, but maybe you and I can read the book together and talk about it," she placated. "Who's Logan?"

"He's my boyfriend," Natalie said matter-of-factly. "He won the class clown award. I'll show you him – KATE!" she cried, suddenly noticing the Navy uniform.

Kate dropped to her knees dramatically, eyes wide.

"Oh my god – it's her, it's Sally Ride! Sally, tell us, what's it like to be the first woman in space?"

Natalie giggled, and pushed away the invisible microphone Kate was miming to hug her. Jenny turned to Brent and gave her a dubious look.

"Boyfriend?"

Brent burst out laughing.

"You'd be surprised," he snorted. "One time, at recess, Mrs. Pritchett and I had to break up a stick-sword fight between Billy and Chase over who was going to push Lindsey on the swings."

"I assume Lindsey is second grade's Phoebe Cates?"

"Somethin' like that."

"Natalie," Jenny called. "Boyfriend?" she repeated.

Natalie nodded, standing next to Kate with one hand on her hip.

"Yes," she said seriously.

"How so?" Kate asked, just as serious. "What is your definition of boyfriend?"

"Oh, well, you know," Natalie answered blithely. "He thinks my hair is nice, so I don't get mad when he pulls it as long as he stands quietly and hands me my beakers when I'm working. And he brought me cheese fries."

Jenny tried not to completely lose her head with hysterical laughter. She just nodded as seriously as she could.

"That's a real man."

"Where is he?" Brent asked, pretending to look stern. "I'd like to give him a talkin' to."

Natalie gave him a smug look.

"No, you don't, Mr. Brent," she said wryly. "I told Logan I'm the best girl, because I don't have a Daddy who will beat him up. My friend London said if he pulled her bow again, she'd make her Daddy punch him."

Jenny's smile faded slightly. She cleared her throat, and Kate stroked Natalie's hair, unsure how to diffuse the situation. Brent scratched the back of his head uncomfortably.

"Hey, Nat," he said cheerily. "How about I beat the boys up for you?"

"No," Jenny said under her breath, shortly. "Don't, Brent."

"I'm not actually gonna hit a bunch of kids – "

"Don't step into that role," she snapped.

Brent held up his hands, his face falling a little, taken aback but understanding. Jenny was surprised at her own reaction, but something so hostile had risen in her at the mere implication that Brent might act as Natalie's – as Natalie's father.

She might feel differently if Gibbs had been the one to run off, leave her, abandon Natalie, but it wasn't like that, and Jenny, despite her own personal need for contact and companionship, did not feel a desperate need to find a father for Natalie. She had one, it was just … complicated.

Natalie watched them critically, her blue eyes calculating. She lifted her necklace to her lips, and started chewing on the dog tag.

"Stop that," Jenny ordered immediately. "You're going to ruin your teeth, I swear, baby," she warned. "And don't – don't let boys pull your hair," she added. "Make them be nice to you."

Natalie shrugged primly.

"I like it when he teases me," she said wickedly.

Jenny lifted her eyes to the ceiling, shaking her head – heaven help her, this girl had inherited some of her mother's traits; she distinctly remembered an eighth-grade Gibbs finding out that it bugged Jenny when his feet were on the back of her chair, so he did it every day – she'd snap at him, only to miss that stupid smirk when he was absent.

Natalie beckoned a child her age over, and neatly presented him.

"This is Logan. His last name is Mariano because his dad is Italian," she said seriously.

Jenny looked at the boy standing in front of her. He looked normal enough, except maybe his grin looked a little too innocent.

"Hi Natalie's Mom," he said formally.

"Hello, Logan," she answered, bending down a little. "I hear you have a girlfriend."

He scuffed his foot in the grass. He smirked at her. His mother called him back over, and Natalie skipped forward, clicking her tongue.

"Can you call Logan's Mommy and let him come play one day?" she asked.

Jenny nodded – she'd see about it; she saw no reason to have some ridiculous overreaction to a little juvenile romance. Besides, she wanted Natalie to keep in touch with these friends; this group of kids was going places.

"Anyone else you want to keep in touch with?"

Natalie thought a moment.

"London. I liked her. She panics and has to breathe into a paper bag," Natalie frowned, "but I told her she should calm down, because her Mommy would probably still love her if she wasn't first place."

Jenny nodded again.

"And where do they go to school?" she asked.

"Oh, private schools," Natalie said quickly. "Saints, you know. Logan goes to Saint-something and London goes to Saint-something and at London's school they have a whole meditation period."

Jenny shot a look at Brent, and he glanced away, compressing his lips to avoid a smirk. She knew he had the same opinion as she did when it came to non-traditional or whimsical education: hogwash. Still, she tilted her head with interest.

"Well, what about everyone else?"

"They all go to those kinds of schools," Natalie said with a shrug. "One of them I can't even pronounce, some guy's name. But at one school, they teach you a different language! I think I want to learn Chinese."

Jenny turned to Brent.

"Is she the only public school student who was accepted?" she asked.

"I guess so," he answered. "I only submitted her and one other from Daisy Road," he added. "No one else qualified – though I got an earful from Stephen Carter's mother about it."

Jenny hoped the earful didn't have anything to do with Natalie being Jenny's daughter, and Brent dating Jenny. She didn't press about it, and she looked at Natalie with pride.

"You take what you got, and you run with it," she told her. She hesitated. "You know, someone is always going to have more than you, and someone is always going to have less than you, and you can blame your problems on that, or you can find your own way to succeed."

Natalie blinked at her, and nodded.

"So, Bug," Kate drawled. "You think you're going to go to school here one day? Be a big, fancy Berkeley grad?"

"No," Natalie said solemnly, glancing around. She wrinkled her nose. "Sometimes the campus smells funny," she confided.

Kate snickered. Jenny glared around – stereotypical, but what else could be expected around a bunch of hippies. She wanted to scream that it was the nineties – hadn't the THC fascination worn off yet? But no matter what, people would love their weed, and it would keep them from having the good conscious sense not to use it around a kid's science camp.

"Where are you going to put your medal?" Brent asked.

Natalie looked at it a moment, and then shrugged.

"I think in a drawer," she said.

"A drawer?" he laughed. "Don't you want to display it, so everyone can see how smart you are?"

She licked her lips.

"No, Mr. Brent. If you have to tell people you're smart, you aren't."

Jenny grinned, and stroked Natalie's hair back.

"You got it, babe – hungry?" she asked, glancing at Brent.

He swept his hand out gallantly.

"If it please you, my lady Natalie," he said dramatically, "I wondered if I might interest you in lunch on the boardwalk – a celebration of scientific excellence with everyone in attendance – "

"Well this is grand for something that you just suggested," Jenny laughed, wrapping her arms around Natalie and hugging her.

Natalie clasped Jenny's hands and looked up, resting her small fingers over Jenny's.

"Got you," Brent said, smirking. He pointed over her shoulder. "I made a reservation two days ago – it's not just for Nat; it's for you, too," he added, leaning in and kissing her cheek. "A little bird told me you were offered a contract at NCIS," he murmured.

She turned, slightly distracted by his whisper, but wondering what he was pointing at; there stood Melanie and Max, Melanie with – Jenny tried not to roll her eyes, but had to give in – a bottle of champagne.

Jenny turned back.

"It's conditional upon academic standing at graduation and continued performance," she said, trying to brush it off –needless to say her trail period at her internship had gone well, and Hetty had already decided to sketch out a path for possible job permanence.

Jenny would think it was unreal and unbelievable, if she hadn't already seen how dire a necessity it was for NCIS to get Cyber divisions up and running. She had certainly chosen the right major – computer competent employees were in high demand.

"You didn't even know if Natalie was going to win something," she said under her breath.

Brent blew her off with a smile, and they headed over towards Jenny's mother.

"Kate, you're welcome to come as well," Brent said cordially. "You're a constant fixture; I saved a spot in case you'd want to – "

"Thank you, Brent, but I've got plans with my – "

"Which is why I asked for a plus one, for you," Brent said smoothly.

Kate tilted her head up, shaking her head. She looked at Jenny wryly.

"Try to do better than this one, just try," she challenged. She laughed. "I'll call Jackson," she acquiesced – Kate's boyfriend, Jackson St. James, was a Secret Service agent working at the FBI counterfeiting division at Pendleton. They'd been dating about since Kate borrowed his truck last September.

She paused, and pointed over at Max, smirking.

"Is Melanie really going to marry him?" she asked.

Jenny laughed, waving Kate off to go call Jackson to meet them. She shrugged, and nodded – indeed; Melanie Shepard was quite eager to let Max the Officer tie her down after all these years.

Melanie popped the bottle of champagne as they approached, and Jenny shook her head.

"Mom, this is a second grader's science fair – "

"This is for me, darling."

"It's eleven a.m."

"Yes," Melanie agreed, "but Max finally got me a ring," she said, flashing a glittering diamond at them all.

Jenny took her hand, and smiled, admiring the gem. Max had proposed long before Melanie had decided what kind of ring she wanted, and he went happily along with everything; the only sign that he was ever fazed by Melanie was the small crease that permanently sat in his forehead – a crease of slight amusement.

Jenny knew this crease well; Jasper Shepard had it, too.

"Hi, Max," she greeted.

"Jenny," he returned, kissing her cheek. He flipped an officer's coin to Natalie. "Hold on to that, kid," he said seriously. "It'll do you good someday."

She pressed it to her heart, and smiled at him. Max tipped his ball cap at her gallantly – he wasn't in uniform, but it still always tickled Natalie to death when he did that with his cap. Max was tall, sandy-haired, and clean-shaven. Before he'd joined the Air Force, he'd been an English teacher in Connecticut. Wanderlust had gotten the best of him, and he now had a distinguished military career.

"Jack's gonna meet us there," Kate said, coming back over. She nodded to Max, and Melanie stepped forward, handing her the bottle.

"Jenny, come here a moment," Melanie said lightly, beckoning her secretively.

"What the hell – oh, Nat, heck, sorry – does she want me to do with this?" Kate asked in the background, and Jenny tried not to snort.

Melanie turned her back to the small gathering, and tilted her head, studying Jenny's face.

"What, Mom?" Jenny asked warily. "I already agreed to be Maid of Honor – are you replacing me?"

"No, darling," she said, shaking her head with a laugh. She composed her face seriously, and hesitated. She took a semi-deep breath, winced, and pressed on. "I had a couple of answering-machine hang-ups, last week," she said. "You know – hear the beep, then the click? I didn't think anything of it, but today I was home when the phone rang."

Jenny swallowed, her face falling a little.

"Gibbs," she guessed grimly.

"Max answered," Melanie said calmly. "I un-confused the situation – told him you had moved, but I was still at the same place."

Jenny stared at her.

"And?"

"Well, he did ask who the man was," she laughed quietly.

"What did he want?"

"You, naturally."

"Did he ask for me, or for Natalie?"

"You," Melanie replied.

Jenny wasn't sure what to make of that. She looked over her shoulder, furrowed her brow, and sighed.

"Did you give him my phone number?" she asked warily.

"No," Melanie said. She paused. "But I did tell him you'd return his call," she admitted firmly. "It seemed time-sensitive. The number he gave me was residential. Oceanside."

Jenny pursed her lips.

"He can't…possibly still be at Pendleton," she hissed. "He can't – I got that card from Hawaii, and then it's from some woman, if I'm judging the handwriting correctly – and how can he have had total radio silence, if he's been in the same damn place—"

"Jenny. Jenny – Jennifer," Melanie said shortly. "I don't know. Don't get worked up right now. You need to call him. Talk to him yourself."

Jenny pulled away slightly. She crossed her arms over herself and bit the inside of her lip hard, looking over at the small group of people. Natalie was standing at Brent's feet, regaling him with either a camp story or some fascinating facts about some completely off the wall subject, and Jenny stood wondering what the hell Gibbs could possibly want; what would provoke him to contact her in the middle of the summer of nineteen-ninety-three, when she hadn't heard from him since before he deployed to Kuwait.

---

Jenny sat at a neat, vintage table near one of Captain Max Danes' vintage collector planes, which was parked strategically on the site of this abandoned World War Two airfield. She found the temperature pleasant in the air vehicle's shadow, and she toyed nervously with the stem of a wineglass – from which she was not drinking.

She'd just escaped from Kate under one of the wings of another plane; Kate, who had cornered her and accused her of purposely stepping aside to avoid Melanie's bouquet. Jenny denied the accusation, but privately agreed that the move had been intentional; she had a distinct fear of even any symbolism that would bring up marriage between herself and Brent.

The man in question sat next to her, his bowtie undone lazily and his manner relaxed.

"This is the strangest wedding I've ever been to," he remarked gleefully, looking around.

It was nineteen forties themed, set in an old abandoned airfield, and decorated accordingly; Jenny's hairstyle and lush red lipstick corroborated that. The quintessential moment in the wedding had been when the kiss was initiated, and Max and Melanie imitated the iconic victory kiss in the New York photo.

Jenny rolled her eyes fondly.

"When she married my father, she had twenties theme. She wore a flapper dress," she said. "I've seen the pictures. It was very nice."

"What does your father think about this?" Brent asked, amused.

Jenny shrugged.

"They're quite good friends," she said thoughtfully. "I think she invited him." Jenny laughed. "But God forbid he come out here and have to interact with me. He might have to stop being disappointed and be impressed."

Brent didn't touch that; he didn't know her father, beyond what she'd said about him fleetingly, or what Natalie mentioned about conversations.

Jenny checked her watch, and looked around for Melanie. Natalie came to the table, flushed, and grabbed Brent's hand – she had two flowers tucked in her hair, taken from the bouquet. She bounced on her small heels a little.

"Brent, Brent, can you dance with me?" she asked innocently. "I won't step on your toes; promise."

He laughed, but glanced at Jenny warily. He shook his head a little.

"I'm not really a dancer, Nat," he said.

Jenny gave him a funny look.

"You can dance with her, Brent," she allowed. "I won't get jealous," she snorted.

Brent gave her a hesitant look still, and glanced at the floor. Jenny followed his eyes, and saw Max's elderly father dancing with Melanie. She turned back, unperturbed, and then she understood.

"Father-daughter," mouthed Brent.

Jenny leaned forward. She thought for a moment that she might allow it, and then she just couldn't; she shook her head.

"Why don't I dance with you when the electric slide comes on?"

Natalie looked a bit upset, but drew back somewhat. She folded her arms. She looked about to say something, but at that moment, Max swept in, and saved the day. He held out a hand and bent to Natalie's level.

"May I have this dance, granddaughter?" he asked, very seriously – as if his very happiness depended on it.

Natalie spun in her dress and let him whisk her away, rising on her tiptoes. Jenny gave him a look of gratitude over Natalie's head, and straightened slowly, pushing her abandoned wine away. She only looked up at Brent after a moment, and he sighed, leaning forward. He rested his elbows on his knees, and frowned a little.

"Today's not a good day, Brent," she warned tensely. "I can't let her label you like that."

"Jenny, we've been seeing each other – "

"Three months. Natalie has known, and we've been openly serious, for three months," she said firmly. As far as she was concerned – and she thought he understood this – the tentative period of getting to know each other before that didn't count towards time dated.

Jenny pushed her hair back anxiously.

"It's going to take time. She'll associate father with permanence, and until I'm sure – if we're ever sure," she broke off. "It's too soon for this conversation," she balked. She checked her watch again. "I have to go."

Brent popped his hand on the table lightly, so as not to draw too much attention.

"You won't let me have a dance with her, but you're about to leave me to watch her at your mother's wedding, while you run off to meet biological Daddy."

Jenny gave him a sharp look.

"Her grandparents are watching her," she corrected, a nasty edge to her voice.

"Why do you think she'll associate father with permanence, considering his track record?" Brent asked coolly.

Jenny said nothing at all. She looked at him, her eyes unreadable and calculating, and she decided not to react; she didn't want to fight, and she didn't want to go to this meeting all riled up. Brent didn't know what he was talking about, but he meant no harm – and he said what he said because he didn't have all the information.

"I have to go," she repeated. "I won't be long – I'll be back to see them fly off."

"Why does it have to be now? Didn't you tell him it's your mother's wedding day?"

Jenny just gave him a warning look, then stood, and bent to kiss him swiftly on the mouth. She glanced over at Max and Natalie – contently enjoying the dance still – and she took her keys and slipped out, even leaving her purse in case Natalie asked where she'd gone. It would look like she was coming back imminently – she didn't like being deceitful towards Natalie, but it was more omission than lie, and she'd…just decided it was best.

For reasons unknown, Gibbs had picked this day, unaware it was a wedding day; he'd insisted this was the only day he could make it; so she ducked out of Melanie's nuptials to steal away to the place on the beach where she'd met him four or five years ago, before he went to sniper school.

She drove to the beach – it was half way between her place and Pendleton, and even though it wasn't a frequent spot for her, she knew it by heart; it was emblazoned in to her memory. She forced herself into a state of practiced calm as she drove, refusing to dwell, refusing to speculate – God, since Melanie had told her he had called, since she'd called back and he said he wanted to meet – she'd been silently going out of her mind.

He'd said – he wanted to see Natalie; he'd asked to stop by. She'd chosen a neutral address – she'd been vague on the subject of Natalie and finally – she'd chosen not to involve their daughter at all, and Gibbs…Gibbs was no doubt expecting her.

She parked the car, and made her way to the hot sand, brushing her hair back in the wind and shivering her little as the flapping of her dress sent chills up her legs and to her spine. She found her way cautiously along the benches that lined the fenced off parts near the grassy areas of the beach, and when she saw him sitting on one, she stopped.

She stood there, staring; waiting. He was bent over, his hands on his head, staring at – his knees, or the sand, or something beyond – and she looked at the curve of his neck and the hunch of his shoulders, almost paralyzed with something – something she hadn't felt in a long time.

When he lifted his head, would he look the same?

"Jethro," she said hoarsely.

He sat up, turning his head, and she caught her breath: yes, the same – and no, not the same at all. His eyes were the same blue, his jaw the same shape, his hair – the same jarhead cut. His face was still so unreadable and so Gibbs-like – but there was a scar just at his brow, and something in the blues of his eyes was changed; a little haunted, maybe, a little tired.

His eyes only met hers for a second; immediately, he was looking around, turning his head slightly. Only when he didn't see what he was looking for did he raise his eyes back to hers, and clear his throat, unclenching his jaw.

"Where's Natalie?" he asked roughly.

She compressed her lips.

"I didn't bring her," Jenny said bravely.

To her infinite surprise, he looked down at his interlocked hands, and he smiled. He smiled, and lifted his head up, squinted into the sun, and then leaned back, shoulders sagging. He shrugged a little – a small movement, but a violent one.

"Figured."

She approached him and sat down on the bench next to him, her knees pressed together.

"What did you expect, Jethro?" she asked, already fighting guilt. "It's been years since she's seen you."

He looked at her stiffly. He looked at his hands.

"You said call, anytime," he said, harking back to an old, old conversation. "And I'd see her."

"That was before you dropped off the planet!" Jenny retorted. "You haven't even called, like you used to – I know it would have been hard at first, to get leave, but now – "

He turned to her, a hard look in his eye, and a tightness to his jaw.

"You made it pretty clear, last time I saw her," he said in a low voice, "that me doin' that would just confuse her – I got the idea you didn't want me around, Jen."

She swallowed.

"Jethro, I didn't mean," she stopped, thinking back to their last meeting.

Maybe it was feasible he had taken it that way. She had worried about things being ultimately confusing for Natalie.

"It was the kind of worry all mothers have," she said quietly. "I didn't mean take yourself out of her life completely."

"You wouldn't let me talk to her before Kuwait," he pointed out coldly.

"That was - you wanted to tell her you were off to fight bullets!" she hissed. "That kind of stress – " she broke off, again, at the look on his face, and she fell silent.

"You made your point more than once, Jen," he decided, "while you tried to pretend you didn't run off with her."

She looked out to the ocean. She closed her eyes.

"Why are you here, Jethro?" she asked softly.

He leaned forward, pressing the knuckles of one hand into the palm of another. She sensed him struggling with his words, trying to figure out what he was going to say. The muscles in his arm and back looked tight and full of uncertainty, and she resisted the urge to reach out and touch him soothingly – she clenched her fist on her thigh.

"I've got orders to Quantico," he said finally. "Got a new MOS, with a promotion," he added, stalling. He didn't elaborate on that. He turned his head, catching her eye cautiously. "I wanted to see her, Jen. More. Talk to her."

She could tell he meant – on a schedule; with some kind of regularity.

"Quantico?" she blurted. "Where - ?"

"Virginia. Outside of D.C."

Her eyes widened.

"You want – how, Jethro?" asked desperately. "You want me to send her across the country every other weekend? For summers? You've been in Pendleton for years and now – "

"I haven't been at Pendleton this whole time," he interrupted curtly.

She didn't mention Hawaii, but she remembered that of course he'd been there, it's just when she heard he was at Pendleton now, she'd got herself to thinking that must have been a honeymoon or something. That was another thing that bothered her – what would she be sending Natalie into, if she re-opened the lines of communication?

"How do you think this is going to work?" Jenny demanded.

He did that smile again, that one that was starting to make her heart ache; like he was carefree because he knew she'd hurt him, knew she'd disappoint him, knew he could count on her to exceed his worst expectations.

"I'd take leave to see her," he ventured. He sounded unsure of it himself. "I'd call, she'd call," he hesitated, like he didn't know what else to say. "I'm tryin', here," he said gruffly.

"No," Jenny said, shaking her head rapidly. "No – she hasn't seen you – she barely knows you – Jethro, this is out of left field! When I said – when I said you could see her or talk to her anytime, back then, that was when I thought you'd establish a pattern, that you'd make more of a concentrated effort while she was little, so she'd grow up with a clear understanding – you can't just barge back in when she's cognitive of the more complex issues – "

"Cognitive of the more complex issues?" he quoted, cutting her off. "We aren't in a courtroom, Jenny, Christ," he swore.

"This is a very real issue, Jethro. She's not this resilient little toddler anymore. She's smart, she's sensitive, she gets things - "

"How would I know that, Jen?" he asked coldly. "I don't know a damn thing about her."

"You know how old your daughter is," she retorted, just as icy. "Think about how it might affect her if someone suddenly wanted to be her Daddy out of nowhere."

Gibbs turned towards her sharply, aggressively.

"I always wanted to be her Daddy," he barked. His eyes burned, darkening with anger. "You made it this hard, Jenny. "You took her out of Stillwater, and so help me God, you never made this easy. You ever think I kept my distance so she wouldn't have to sense how much her father resented her mother?"

Jenny drew back, swallowing hard. Truth be told, she didn't think that was his reason, but it made sense, and she didn't want to go hand-to-hand with him in a knock-down drag-out. She was fairly sure she would lose; she was aware of her own guilt and mistakes, but she refused to back down from this: regardless, her job now was to make sure Natalie's life was unburdened with these problems.

"I can't confuse her," she said stiffly. "I can't disrupt her life. I don't know what you've been doing, who you associate with – and she's content; she's doing well. This would be – upheaval," she broke off.

She didn't want to bring up Brent, and she didn't, but he was part of her panic. If she let Gibbs back in – God forbid if he took her to court, then Natalie might become so infatuated with the rediscovery, she'd reject Brent – and the absurd thing was, Jenny wasn't even that serious or set on Brent, but things were progressing at a good pace and, and so much about reopening old wounds would monkey-wrench the stable little thing she had going.

There were too many uncertain variables; there was too much at stake – and she didn't want to take the risk; she was selfish, but she was, first and foremost, genuinely concerned about her daughter – and since Natalie never asked about Gibbs, never seemed to miss him or express any undying curiosity, she didn't see the need to thrust him on her when her life was going just fine.

"You're about to move across the country," Jenny said, quiet, defeated. "This came – out of nowhere, Jethro," she went on tiredly. "I'm – she's in a good place. I'm not going to do this to her."

That smile again – she was sure he was thinking, do this to her? As if he were some plague, some affliction.

He looked down at his hands, and this time, she noticed a faint tan line on his left hand, ring finger. She studied it; did it mean he was divorced, or had he just decided not to flaunt, to provoke questions. She thought of the handwriting on the Christmas card, and she felt protective; she was suspicious as to whether or not some woman was behind this, some gossip, eager for drama.

She shook her head. He cleared his throat.

"I've got rights, Jen," he said dully. "I know I've got 'em."

"You take me to court," she said softly. "You drag her through that. You – what would you do, Jethro? Take her on specific dates, so you could poison her against me, tell her what an unrepentant bitch I am, depriving her so cruelly of you? She's – you'd be a monster to – "

He shook his head very slowly.

"Nah," he said hoarsely. "Think I'll wait until she's old enough to figure that out herself, Jen."

His words were so targeted, so brutal, that their impact almost made her physically double over. She parted her lips in shock; winced, her brow knitting together. He'd managed to pinpoint her greatest fear: that Natalie would someday despise her for this, that she'd learn that Jenny left and never try to understand, that she'd somehow romanticized Gibbs as a faultless, wronged hero, and drag her mother through the mud of Jezebel women.

She felt like slapping him; instead she turned her back, straightening, staring out over the beach and the ocean, trying to let it glance off of her.

She closed her eyes. She felt him get up.

"This it, Jen?"

She didn't answer.

His shadow shifted. He scuffed his foot in the sand.

"'M not doin' this again, with you," he said. The rough huskiness to his voice rang in her ears like a canon; it wasn't malicious, it was defeated, almost tortured. "I can't." He was quiet, and then he breathed in heavily. "If she ever wants me, I'll answer," he said. "I'll show up. I won't turn her down because you screwed up."

His words sounded so remarkably like a threat, and she said nothing; she didn't blame him. She'd started this cycle, she'd made it so she felt like she had to turn him down, had to cut him out – yes, he had made mistakes, and she didn't understand why he hadn't tried like her once young, romantic mind had thought he would, but that was then, and this was now.

She got up and turned swiftly, reaching into the chest of her dress. She noticed him look at her really look at her; his brow creased at her attire. She handed him a photo; a picture of her kneeling next to Natalie at the science camp, Natalie radiant in her little lab coat and beautiful long, auburn hair.

Gibbs took the photo. He held it a long moment; he ripped it in half, and handed hers back to her, so he kept only Natalie's image. When she took it, her fingertips brushed his, and she had the sudden, desperate impulse to seize him to kiss him – to at least touch him, and feel his skin under her hands.

She didn't; she drew her hand back meekly, and nodded, as if she understood. He looked like he might say something more; instead, he put his hands into his pockets, and she took a few moments of his silent to memorize things about how he looked: he was tanned, his T-shirt bore the emblem of the USMC, he had dog tags tucked into the collar, and his eyes were steel.

He turned, and he left; walking away without another word. She watched him go, and sat – no, collapsed – down on the bench, unable to take her eyes off his retreating form, feeling some kind of life-threatening sadness simultaneously with immeasurable relief.

It was another of those moments that redefined where her life was going, and this one seemed to herald Gibbs' irreversible exit. She felt all the conflict she'd felt in nineteen eighty-seven, when she'd left him, and again each time she had real contact with him – face-to-face, not just back when he'd been calling Natalie periodically.

But inarguably, dauntingly, the worst thing she felt in that moment was how much she loved him – not past tense; present tense: she had never left Gibbs because she didn't love him, but when she'd looked into those blue eyes, and she saw no flicker of emotion there, no nostalgia, no confusion or unresolved longing for her, she wondered if she'd irrevocably murdered whatever was left of what they'd had in Stillwater – if anything had been.

---

"An allegiance dead and gone
I'm losing touch."
-Losing Touch; the Killers

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-alexandra