Disclaimer: See previous chapters.
A/N: We all owe a huge thanks to my Muse, Isa, without her this would never have been posted! At least not until tomorrow!

Enjoy!

Little Bit of This, Little Bit of That

Look at me
My depth perception must be off again
It has not healed with time
It just shot down my spine
(Rest In Pieces, Saliva)

The front door opened slowly, the key turning and the lock undoing producing an almost inaudible sound. Gibbs waited until the door was fully open before stepping through, his gun drawn. Jen sighed and attempted to push past him, irritated by his paranoia and him in general.

The entire drive home he had been quiet and evasive. She would ask him a general question; what he fancied for dinner, and he would give no more than a shrug or a grunt. She had tried one last time to get something more substantial out of him by asking what the team had found out, and received a noncommittal response that he would explain it all later. Finally she had given up and driven in silence the rest of the way home, taking a page from Jethro's book and driving as fast as she could.

Gibbs grabbed her arm, holding her in place behind him, and sending a dark glare her way. When Jen opened her mouth to object, he moved his hand from her arm to her mouth muffling the noise of outrage she made as well as her words. Turning her own death glare on Jethro, Jen gave in and fell into step behind him, finding it hard, in her anger, to keep her gun trained on anything but the back of his head.

She followed him as he checked and cleared every room on the first floor and had already dropped her bag and slid out of her coat when he went to look upstairs. For one moment she mind wondered what state her bedroom was in, she didn't think she'd be able to look at him if she knew he'd seen her underwear strewn about the place. She shook the irrational thoughts from her mind. This was Jethro Gibbs; in all the time they had been partners, he'd not so much as noticed that she had re-decorated twice, he was very unlikely to even realise he was in her bedroom.

Heading for the kitchen, Jen kicked her heels off and pulled her hair from the clip that held it in place, the red locks falling onto her shoulders and running down her back. Looking in the fridge, past the half empty boxes of take-out, she pulled out an already opened bottle of red wine. Grabbing two glasses from the overhead shelf she walked back out to the living room, hearing Gibbs' footfalls on the stairs as he made his way back down.

She met him at the couch and held out a glass, waiting while he finally re-holstered his gun. Gibbs shook his head at the offer, and watched with a disapproving frown as she filled her own glass and swallowed a few mouthfuls.

Seeing his look, Jen questioned. "What?"

"Do you really think you should be drinking? What if something were to happen while you were mentally incapacitated?"

Jen stared at him in shock for a moment, not quite believing the words had been spoken.

"Mentally incompa…it's one glass of wine Jethro. I'm not planning on breaking out a six pack and drinking until the floor spins. I've just had a part of the past that I'd rather forget brought crashing to my attention, I'm the target for murder by a man that has proved he can and will kill me for what I did and until he's caught or he's successful I'm going to be followed from work to the dry-cleaners by agents that don't like me at the best of times. If ever there were a moment to drink it's now Agent Gibbs." She finished by emptying her glass and turning away from him.

Gibbs was silent a moment, having not expected such a passionate response to his concern. "Dammit Jen I'm just trying to keep you alive, and I don't think that alcohol is in your best…"

"So keep me alive! Wave your gun in the air, check every room in the house for someone that has only just gotten into the country, if at all, and who, by your own admission waits and watches for days before striking, leave McGee sitting outside in his car all night 'just in case' but for God's sake Jethro, let me try to relax in the only way I know will work and stop treating me like I'm just another assignment."

After spluttering a moment, Gibbs moved over to where Jen had repositioned herself, peering out of the window onto the street outside.

"How did you know he was out there?"

Jen laughed lightly, the anger she felt disappearing, whether from the wine, or the true confusion in his voice it didn't matter.

"I haven't always sat behind a desk, kissing asses Jethro, I was a field agent once remember, and you taught me everything you knew."

She turned away from the window, pulling the curtains closed and blocking out the sight of McGee, his face lit by his laptop screen. Gibbs followed her with his eyes as she picked up the full glass of wine she'd offered him earlier and once again held it out to him.

"Come on Jethro, I know it's your favourite. Besides that paint remover you keep in your basement."

Turning a mock glare on her, Gibbs accepted the glass, taking a small sip and savouring the taste of the French bouquet.

"I'll have you know that that 'paint remover' is of the finest quality, it's not my fault you couldn't handle it."

Jen laughed. "I don't remember you complaining about the way I handled it. In fact the way I remember it, you were very very happy."

Gibbs smiled the smile Jen loved; the one that told her he was remembering too, and that she was so very right. This time, however, there was no work to get back to, no important question that still required an answer, so a silence fell over them and got more uncomfortable the longer it lasted.

Finally Jen couldn't stand it anymore, the thought of being so uncomfortable in her own house annoyed her, she and Jethro were the past, and that's where they needed to stay.

"Is chicken okay?" Seeing Gibb's blank look she re-iterated, already heading for the kitchen. "For dinner. You know food Jethro." She hoped he was happy with chicken; that was all she really had.

"Yes, yes that's fine." Jen left him in the living room and Gibbs finally took it all in.

The walls were a pale cream, squares of rust red paint were dotted around, matching the couch cushions and curtains. A tall bookcase lined the wall opposite the window, and Gibbs moved closer to study its contents. One shelf was dedicated to a movie collection that he was certain Tony would admire; another held a set of books edged in leather, the spines creased and bent from over-use. There was a gap in the set, and he looked at the writing along the sides to try to guess what they could be. His brow creased in a frown when all he found were dates and he reached out to pick up the first one when a picture frame caught his attention. Picking up the book anyway, he looked over at the picture, seeing a slightly younger version of himself wrapped around Jen, both their faces lit up in wide smiles.

Jen walked back in from the kitchen, a question on her lips, and found Gibbs staring at her bookcase. At first she was confused at what he could have found that so intrigued him, and as she moved closer, standing just behind him, she saw the picture they'd had taken six years earlier. Switching her attention to Jethro, she wondered at the nostalgic look on his face and opened her mouth to ask him what he was thinking when she caught sight of the book in his hand. For a moment her breath caught; what if he had that book, but then she remembered that it was still securely locked in her case. A quick glance at the shelf and she knew he'd taken the first of her diaries. While she knew that it didn't have any mention of him in it, and it most certainly wasn't the one she'd kept when undercover in London; that one had been burned shortly after her return, it was still private and she wasn't sure she wanted him reading it.

She took the book from his hand, choosing to ignore his slight jump when he realised she was there and the shocks that tingled up her arm as her fingers brushed his, and placed it once more on the shelf, straightening it back into place.

Gibbs watched her movements, knowing better than to ask why she didn't want him touching those books, but still wondering all the same.

"Vegetables or rice?" Jen asked the question she'd come in for, and at Gibbs' answer she returned to the kitchen again, trusting him not to look where he shouldn't.

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Jen pushed her empty plate away, and before she could say anything, Gibbs had lifted it up with his own and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Watch out for the…" She was cut off by a loud crash and rushed to check on him.

Gibbs sat on the kitchen floor cradling his left hand, pieces of broken plate lay scattered around him. His eyes were focussed on the kitchen mop as he tried to set it alight with telepathy.

Suddenly Jen broke into laughter, unable to stop herself; the undefeatable Jethro Gibbs had been out witted by a cleaning appliance. Gibbs moved his glare from the mop to her, as she bent down, offering her hand, giggles still escaping her lips.

"It's not funny Jen." But as he accepted the help getting up, his own lips twisted into an amused smile.

"It's a little bit funny Jethro." She squeezed his hand, before reaching down to start picking up the remains of her crockery, Gibbs following.

Both stopped as Jethro let in a sharp breath, having forgotten that he'd landed on his wrist. Gently, Jen raised his left hand studying the slight swelling already present. She pressed down softly on his wrist, and he pulled his hand back with a hiss. Jen looked up and him and glared.

"Don't be a baby Jethro, we both know you've had worse injuries. Now let me look at it." She held out her hand, palm up and looked at him expectantly. With a defeated sigh, he placed his hand in hers once more, ignoring the feel of her skin on his.

"Well, it's not broken." Gibbs threw her a look that said he could have told her that, but she didn't look up at him and so it was wasted on the overhead cabinet. "But since I know how much you despise hospitals, and how you're not going to rest it, I'll wrap it in a bandage for the night." Before he could respond she had already reached into a cupboard and pulled out a roll of gauze. With soft touches she wrapped and secured his wrist before looking up to the pout on his lips.

"What?"

"You didn't kiss it better." She stared at him in shock a moment, before slapping his arm lightly.

"Get out of here Jethro, I need to clear up your mess."

"I could help." His offer was met with a raised eyebrow.

"I think you've helped enough. Go sit and guard me from the living room."

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When she walked into the living room, the kitchen cleaned and new plates pulled to the front of the cupboards, she expected to find Gibbs watching the CNN news report, or checking the room for any kind of bugging devices. What she did find, was the TV blaring to an unknowing audience of one that seemed to have fallen asleep, his right hand on the gun at his hip. Jen looked down at him; even sleeping, his face still held the same slight frown, as though even there he wasn't truly relaxed.

She was hesitant to wake him, he obviously needed the sleep if he was doing it now, when he felt it was so important to guard her, but she knew from experience that the couch, and more especially the position he was in, was going to leave him aching all over in the morning.

With a small sigh, Jen knelt down on the floor in front of him, laying her arms on his knee. She'd done this so often all those years ago. Bend down there to wake him, it would only take the pressure of her arms on his legs for him to snap awake. If it were a weekend, or the end of a long day off, then he'd lean down and pull her lips to his own, but if he were sleeping off a hard shift, he'd do just the same as he did now.

Jen sat completely still as Gibbs' gun swung into view. He had never once shot her in all their time together and she hadn't lost that trust in him.

"Damn Jen. I could have shot you." Gibbs was angrier at himself for sleeping on the job, than for drawing his gun on her.

Jen pushed herself to her feet again. "You always said that, and it hasn't happened yet." Walking around the room she switched off the lamps and collected her bag. Turning back to Jethro she tilted her head slightly.

"Coming to bed?"

For a moment Gibbs was thrown. Had she really just asked that?

Jen was thinking the same thing, not believing those words had slipped from her mouth. She'd been thinking those and intending to voice some similar but with extremely important differences. Obviously the wine was affecting her more than she had thought it would.

"In the Guest Bedroom. The couch isn't comfortable for spending a night on, as I'm sure you remember, and I have a perfectly good second bedroom for you."

Gibbs sighed inwardly. Of course that's what she had meant. Had he really thought it would be anything else? Perhaps he had spent a little too many years around DiNozzo.

"I'm not sleeping Jen. I'm here to make sure you can sleep and still wake up again."

With those words he stood to peak through the curtains, seeing that McGee had followed his orders to the letter and gone for the night.

"Well you were doing a rather good impression of sleeping just then Jethro." Jen couldn't believe he wouldn't even let this go. He was obviously tired, why did he have to be so stubborn?

Gibbs opened his mouth to respond yet again that it was his job and he took it seriously, when Jen held out her hand to stop him.

"Forget it. Goodnight Agent Gibbs, the coffee is where it's always been." And then she was gone from the room, and he heard her light footsteps on the stairs.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Gibbs settled back on the couch, hand on his gun and pulled out the picture he'd taken from her bookshelf before his impromptu nap.

Had they really been that happy?

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Jen growled in annoyance as she flung her briefcase on the bed. That Man. Taking several deep breaths she undressed with angry movements before settling herself up against the head board. Pulling out the files from her case, she felt the diary drop onto her lap. Looking between that and the files she didn't know what to choose. It probably wasn't the best idea to revisit her time with Gibbs whilst he was only a floor below, but she knew enough to know she wouldn't be able to concentrate on the cases either.

Placing her glasses on her nose, she picked up the diary and opened it to a random entry, she had all night to work on the case files after all.

I've got a whole new appreciation for rivers now. Our latest crime scene was by the river bank, and of course, the witness insisted that he heard something being thrown into the water. So he went in. He came out dripping, his shirt sticking to his body, and I could see everything. He's so well built. This attraction was supposed to be over now. It's been months working with him, and it's still there. I'm sure he can see it, I'm sure everyone can see it. And now he flirts with me. Little touches and smiles that are affecting me in ways I can't describe and don't think I want to. Is it wrong to hate a woman that I've never met? Because I do. I hate his wife, because in my head I've decided she's the only thing keeping us apart. Of course that's completely ridiculous and I know that there's so much more to it than that, but at night, when he visits me in my dreams, the only thing I know is that he doesn't have a wife then. And then he will take me in his arms, he'll kiss me the way he always does, with so much passion, and he'll roll us over, raking his eyes over me in a way that sends every part of my body on fire. His breath is hot puffs on my neck as he whispers things I don't need to hear for my body to respond and I'd give anything for him to be real, and he tells me he is before his hands slide up my sides, and I believe him every time. And every time my alarm wakes me, and I have to spend another day watching him and glaring at the gold band on his finger.

I'll get over it. I know I will. It's just taking longer than I expected that's all.

:tbc:


So…anyone looking forward to chapter 5? Because it's all written up and ready, just click that magic review button and it's all yours…in a few days. ;)