A/N: to the_yawner (): I've written a note at the end of chapter 3 regarding what you wrote in your review. You might want to check it.

to ... (): As I said at the end of chapter 3, this story closely follows the canon. If you think back to JD part 1, you will see it was mostly Jenny & Franks centric, while JD part 2 featured Gibbs and the team. Now, a story can follow more POVs, but I chose to tell the story from only two: Gibbs (part 1) and Jenny (part 2, which begins with this chapter).

Regarding the matter of language, what can I say? I'm writing in a language that is not my mother tongue. Learning to speak or write another language is not just a matter of grammar. One must learn to think in that language...which I do, btw. I write directly in English. However there is a problem that isn't easy to overcome: speech, writing and thinking patterns are influenced by the patterns/rules of the language we learned to think with, which is Italian for me. I try to correct that, but I sometime slip...and all I can do is to keep on trying. I have an American betareader to check my stories before I post them, but nobody is perfect and she too can make mistakes.

There is an episode where Tony is talking to the phone with some woman (not a girlfriend, a clerk or secretary) and salutes her with "Mio amore", which is the literal translation of "my love". While grammatically correct, "mio amore" doesn't fit the tone of this conversation. We would use it in a love declaration or something solemn, but not to salute an almost stranger. Tony's correct salute should have been "amore mio". Yes, just reversing the order of the words would have completely changed the tone of the line, making it more appropriate for the context. Just a little example to show that learning a language is much more complex than just learning its grammar. :)

That said, I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the story. Even if I chose to stick closely to the plot of the episode, this second part offered me more opportunities to add things not seen on screen.

Part Two

Mojave Desert, 20 May 2008

The back, bullet-proof SUV advanced along the dusty road, the driver's eyes often checking the navigator screen in order not to get lost in that seemingly never-changing landscape made of cactuses and sand.

Behind a pair of sunglasses that masked her reddened eyes, Jennifer Shepard, NCIS Director, stared at the desert that stretched around her as far as her eyes could go, but she saw nothing of it.

Her mind was reliving the phone call she had gotten the previous evening, the phone call that had shattered her life as much as Ducky's diagnosis had done a few months before…

…Jenny was sitting at the desk in her study, eating the dinner Noemi had prepared for her. As she chewed the chicken salad, Jenny re-arranged her stationery and saw the letter she had started writing a few evenings before, but she hadn't gone further than "Dear Jethro". It wasn't easy to write a letter for the man one loves knowing he would read it only after one's death.

Her phone cell rang and she sighed as she reached out to take it. She frowned when she saw it was Leon Vance. What did he wanted at that hour?

Jenny switched her phone open. Not answering wasn't an option, not only because she was the agency director and she had to answer when her assistant director called, but because, long ago, Gibbs had drilled into her rule number three: never been unreachable.

"Jenny Shepard. What can I do for you, Leon?"

"Director, we have a big problem here."

"So big it can't wait till tomorrow?"

"No, Jenny, it can't."

Jenny sighed inwardly as she relaxed in her armchair. "What is it, Leon?"

"Three hours ago the San Diego office got an anonymous phone call, reporting there had been a bit of trouble in a diner in the Mojave Desert, and that a NCIS agent was involved in it. We checked the address the caller gave us and it turned out the diner belonged to the recently deceased, former NCIS agent William Decker. I believe you knew him…"

"Yes, I did. We worked together years ago—but go on, please. Define the trouble we are talking about," Jenny commented, mildly curious. Decker's funeral had been the previous morning and Jethro had gone to LA to attend it—on her request. As things were, Jethro should have landed back in DC a couple of hours before and Jenny was sure he would have come to see her if something unusual had happened.

Or wouldn't he?

Her relationship with Jethro – both personal and working -- was quite strained at the moment, especially because he suspected she had killed La Grenouille, no matter what Trent Kort had said to Fornell.

Jenny's stomach churned as a sense of dread washed over her.

Did Decker's death had anything to do with Leon's 'trouble'? She, like Gibbs, didn't believe in coincidences and it only increased her anxiety.

"Gunfight," Vance said in answer to her question.

"How many people involved?"

"Five."

"God…and the agent involved?" Jenny held her breath, although, deep inside, she already knew the answer. Otherwise, why would Leon being so reticent she practically had to pull the words from his lips?

"Gibbs."

"C-condition?"

Silence.

"Vance!" she all but yelled, unable contain herself.

"I'm sorry, Jenny. There was nothing we could do for him when we arrived."

Jenny slumped against the back of the armchair and closed her eyes, squeezing her eyelids to stop her tears from falling.

Jethro.

Dead.

It wasn't possible…he couldn't be dead…Gibbs couldn't die…

"Director? Jenny?!"

Gathering her strength, Jenny opened her eyes and took a deep breath. "Leon," she said in a voice that barely recognized as her own, "Give me the diner's address. I'll fly there with the first available plane." She expected Vance to protest, but he wisely refrained and gave her the requested information. "Now I must go; I've things to arrange. Continue your investigation. I'll see you tomorrow."

Jenny ended the call, put down the phone and stared ahead for a long time, seeing images of Jethro flash in front of her eyes in a sort of a slide-show…smiling as they dined in a cosy brasserie in Paris; limping at her side as they toured Positano; working on his boat; teaching her how to love bourbon; making love in a hut in Serbia as the snow fell; sleeping in their bed as she wrote her "Dear John" letter because he wasn't part of her five-point-plan; looking stunned when Tom Morrow introduced her as the new NCIS director; walking in the bullpen with a cup of coffee in his hand; leaning over a suspect until they spilled their guts; looking so desperate and broken when he cried for his dead family after he lost his memory; staring at her curiously as she struggled not to laugh at the sight of his ridiculous moustaches; walking in her study as she confronted La Grenouille…

Jenny closed her eyes, stopping the flood of images and memories as she struggled to breath past the sobs that shook her. She couldn't let her grief overwhelm her. Not yet. Not now.

Now she had a job to do.

Steeling her resolve, Jenny picked up her phone and dialled DiNozzo's number…

Jennifer Shepard returned to the present, and blinked her eyes. Talking to Jethro's team had been one of the hardest things she had ever had to do.

She had summoned all of them, Abby and Ducky included, back to NCIS, and had given them the news in her office.

They had all been devastated and then, each of them, had reacted to the pain in his or her way.

Tony had gone rigid like a stone, but his jaws had twitched with tension as his eyes had filled with tears he had refused to shed. Tim had stood there, with his mouth open as if he wanted to say something but didn't know how to make out words, his eyes very bright. Abby had thrown herself in Ducky's arms and sobbed her pain against his chest, as he silently cried with his face buried into her hair. Ziva, instead, had walked to the closest wall and hit it with her fist. Again, and again, and again, as if the pain to her hand could stop the one to her heart.

Jenny had intervened to stop her before she could break any bone, and she had been taken aback by look in her friend's eyes. It had been the same gaze Ziva's had had when she had heard her sister Tali had been killed in a terrorist attack, a mixture of raw pain and murderous fury.

Afterward, when everyone had regained some control other their emotions-- at least as much as it was possible -- Jenny had announced she would fly to Los Angeles in a couple hours. The team had asked to go with her, but she had shaken her head.

"No, I need you here. We must investigate what happened and why. I need you to work as well as I know you can do—as well as Gibbs taught you to. Can I count on you?" she had asked.

"Yes," team Gibbs had answered in unison, determination set on their tired and distraught faces.

Jenny had then told them to go to home and return later, but when she had left the office to catch her plane, she had seen all of them down in the bullpen, sleeping on the floor or at their desks. The sight had pulled a smile from her, but then her eyes had watered again, because she knew Jethro too would have smiled upon seeing them…

The car left the main road to turn into a private one and pulled up by a low, light green building. Melvin rushed to open her door and helped her to step onto the sandy ground.

Jenny looked around, seeing two NCIS agents carry boxes out of the diner. She was about to stop one of them, when Leon Vance stepped out of the building.

"Director," he said, approaching her.

"Leon."

"I'm sorry, Jenny," he said as they shook hands. She just nodded at looked at the diner's open door, trying to find the strength to go inside.

"Bodies were picked up last night, they are their way to San Diego ," Vance said, seemingly understanding her hesitation.

"No. I want them sent to Washington," Jenny replied. "I want my people to work on this case."

"I can send the shooters' bodies if you really insist, but not Gibbs'."

Jenny opened her mouth to protest, but Vance was quicker. "Jenny, I know there have been some hard feelings between us, but I'm on your side now. Gibbs is in a…very bad shape and I know you, his team and Doctor Mallard were all very close to him. Let us do the autopsy here, and remember him like he was…"

Jenny felt a lump constrict her throat, so she nodded with her head. It was the right choice, for all of them, but especially for Ducky. She would spare him the pain of having to open up his best friend.

After taking a few deep breaths, Jenny calmed down enough to walk inside the diner.

The first thing she registered was the sweetish smell of blood in the air. Then she lowered her eyes and saw the many blood stains scattered on the floor. Yellow markers had been posed near each stain and the closest one had the number 26 on it, but Jenny's eyes stopped at once on a marker with the name "Gibbs" on it. It marked a large blood stain and she had to bit her lower lip to prevent herself from crying again.

Her eyes locked on Jethro's blood, Jenny only half listened as Vance described her the dynamic of the gunfight. She didn't really care to hear how Jethro defended himself as a fury—she knew he would have fought until he had a breath – or enough blood – inside his body. All she cared about was to know why the only man she had ever loved had died in what forsaken place.

Jenny walked to the table where several specimen jars, each of them with a bullet or a shell casing inside, were lined along with five weapons, all sporting a tag to identify who had used them.

"He was outnumbered," Vance said at the end of his report, as if he thought Gibbs needed a justification for having been killed, "four to one."

"I think you got to check your math, Leon ," Jenny commented.

"What?"

She pointed at the weapons and jars she had been examining. "There are four .45 calibre shell casings and no .45," she answered, before turning to look at the door. "Somebody walked
out of here alive."

Jenny marched out the diner and looked right and left. Then pointed at the sand near the building. "There, do you see those tire marks? Did your team park a car in that spot?"

Vance shook his head, "I'm not sure. I'll have to ask to my men."

"Do it, because if they didn't, that marks belong to the fifth man's car."

Vance nodded, "All right."

"Do it soon, Leon . I want to have an answer when I return."

"Return from where?"

"From the diner we saw two miles behind us. I've not eaten anything since last evening."

And I need to eat before I can take my pills, Jenny thought but didn't say as he boarded her car.