Home Is Where the Heart Is
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Things would be a lot different if I did. No infringement intended.
A/N: This story has kind of taken on a life of its own… I hope it still makes sense. (Oops! I think I just heard a certain someone groan!) This chapter is without much JIBB-erish, but the next one will have some--- I promise !______________________________________________________________________________________________
Chapter 4
It was late before he left the Navy Yard—it usually was. The case, however, was one that had them all working overtime. Whoever killed these women was a pro. He left no forensic evidence behind: no saliva, no semen, no prints, no DNA. Ducky and Jenny were both right –it was similar to the case they had worked in 1997, but at least then they had a definite suspect. This case had not pointed a finger at anyone in particular.
He told himself that he just wanted to check and make sure that she was safely home. He pulled the sedan to the curb and parked outside of her townhouse. The lights were still on in the foyer and in the upstairs window that he remembered was her bedroom. She was home. He couldn't help but wonder about the interaction he had seen with the agent in the bar. There was a good chance that she wasn't alone. It had been ten years—he had a failed marriage and some failed relationships in that amount of time. Jen had been a very physical and sensual woman. He was sure that she had other men—it didn't mean that he had to like it. Somewhere in his mind, Jen had always been his. Perhaps it was the illusion of woman that he had come to think of after the initial bitterness of their parting had faded. He knew that illusions were dangerous—illusions were beings that had no flaws. If he were to get beyond that, he needed some answers. He got out of the car and headed for her front door. Determined to get them.
{{{{{{{{
The fire was built more for sentiment and its ability to calm her nerves than for practical reasons. She sat in her study, sipping a glass of bourbon, and staring into the flames. Her life had changed so much in the past ten years. She glanced around the study, wondering. If she had made different choices, would she be in D.C.? Would the house be quiet or filled with the sounds of children? Would she have ended up with Jethro or would she have been ex-wife number three? Too many questions. When it came to Jethro, however, she knew that she had made the right choice by leaving him in Paris. It hadn't been a "choice' really. It was more like an ultimatum.
Paris 1999
He found her on the park bench, shivering from the cold. He immediately took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. He sat next to her—waiting for her explanation. What little he had gotten over the telephone had painted a fuzzy picture.
"I couldn't do it, Will. I know that it was my job. My responsibility. She looked me in the eyes and begged for their life. I couldn't pull the damn trigger"
Special Agent William Decker looked up into the night sky, letting out a deep sigh. "Jenny, I know that this doesn't come naturally to you, but you could have at least brought her to me. I would have done it."
She glanced at him a moment through red rimmed eyes, "No, you wouldn't. She was just his handler, Will. She's never killed anyone."
"She finds the intel so Anatoli can kill them"
"So do I," Jenny added. "Doesn't that make me just as guilty of murder as she is?"
He paused to consider this. Jenny Shepard was a fine agent. She had proven herself in various missions throughout Europe. There had to be more to her reason behind not wanting to kill her target. He thought back—reviewing the habits of the target over the past six weeks. Home, market, clinic, home, clinic--- the pattern and Jenny's statement clicked.
"Their life? She's pregnant, isn't she?"
Jenny just nodded, unwilling to look at him. "I'll tell Gibbs what I've done and---"
"No. You won't"
She did look at him then, surprised by his firm answer. "He's gonna know, Will"
"Jenny, we have a saying when it comes to Jethro. 'What Gibbs doesn't know---"
"---can't hurt him" She supplied.
"No, can't hurt us" He lit a cigarette, letting the smoke curl and drift away in the light breeze of the early March air. "I'm not saying that I agree with your decision. Let me take care of it."
"How?"
"The Russians are looking for someone to blame. Right now, all they know is the hit was ordered by a Mr. Oshimyda. Let me take the heat on this one. I'm due for a transfer out west when we get home anyway. Their intel on us is sketchy at best. Give me a few days. I'll come up with some kind of compromise—something that will be the best for all of us"
And he had come up with a compromise. Working with his anonymous contact in London, it was decided that it would be necessary for the three agents to split: Will would go to California, Jethro would return to D.C., and Jenny would stay in Europe. William had convinced her that it was the only way that they would stand a chance of this not coming back and biting them in the ass in the future. It was his insurance policy to help them all stay alive. It also meant that she must leave Jethro—without an explanation other than it was a decision that "was best for her". Keeping her end of the bargain meant that Gibbs would live. Leaving had been the hardest thing she had ever done. No, that wasn't true. Not being able to tell Jethro the truth of why she had to leave was the hard part. She could only imagine the reasons that he had come up with—none of which, she was sure, were charitable to her.
It doesn't matter now, she reasoned as she took another sip of her drink. Liar. Yes, it did matter.
The knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. She glanced at the clock on the mantel. Who would be at my door at 2200? She pulled her Glock from the desk drawer and slowly advanced toward the door.
The knocking came again, "Jenny, open up".
She frowned. The voice was familiar, but it couldn't be him—could it? She opened the door and peered around it.
"William?" The surprise was evident on her face.
"You going to let me in, Jenny?" William Decker stood in her doorway—the outline of his handsome features dimly illuminated from the hall lamp.
"Sure," she said, remembering her manners, "I'm just surprised to see you. I didn't know that you were in D.C"
Decker gave her an awkward smile and entered her home, closing the door firmly behind him.
"Jenny. We need to talk"
_____________
To Be Continued….