The best Jethro could do for his next trip to Martinique was a long weekend over the Fourth of July. The separation was incredibly hard after the past three years of seeing each other on a daily basis, especially now that their relationship had moved beyond the platonic stage again.

They made the most of their few days, spending all of the time together. One night, after dinner, they sat outside to watch the sunset together. Gibbs started telling her stories about what was going on back in DC.

"Abby got another tattoo," he told her.

"Where?"

"I didn't ask."

Jenny giggled. "Okay, of what?"

"Didn't ask that, either." Now she really laughed. "Hey, if I can't see it, I don't need to know."

"Fair enough, I suppose. How about Tim? Has he finished his next novel?"

"I'm not sure, really. He's gotten a little quieter lately."

"Don't let them pull away, Jethro."

"He'll be fine. It was the same with Kate."

She nodded slightly. "What kind of trouble has Tony gotten himself into?"

"Shot Rule 12 to hell."

That got Jenny's attention. "With who?"

"Who do you think?"

"No!"

Gibbs laughed. "Yeah."

"Oh, God, Ziva'll have to tell me how that…" She slowly trailed off.

"Jen?"

"I'm okay, just…forgot for a second." She looked away, and he could tell she was trying to blink away tears. Ziva wasn't going to be telling her anything because Ziva thought she was dead. This wasn't just some vacation, this was her life for however much of it was left. She wouldn't be seeing any of her friends again and somehow had to come to grips with that.

"You could come back with me," he suggested. She shook her head.

"It wouldn't be fair to them."

"What about what's fair to you, Jen?"

She kissed him. "I'm okay. I have you; that's all I need."

"We can talk about something else," he offered.

"No, no, I want to know what's going on with everyone. I do miss them, Jethro, but they…I want to know that they're all right. So when did this happen with Tony and Ziva? How long did they keep it from you?"

"That I'm not sure about, but I don't think it was long. You know how good DiNozzo is about keeping his mouth shut…"

After that second trip, it was pretty much impossible to ignore the fact that Gibbs was getting harder to deal with at work. He didn't want to be there – Martinique was much more preferable – and it showed. His coffee intake had doubled and Tim and Tony were probably about two Gibbs-smacks away from concussions. Even Ziva had gotten hit upside the head a couple times; Tony had thought for sure that the Israeli would hit him back, but she just let it go. They all tried to cut a wide path as much as they could and let him get his frustration out on suspects instead of them whenever possible. Finally, even Vance had to notice – and decided to get drastic.

One September afternoon, Ziva, Tony, and Tim were watching from behind the glass as he worked on breaking their latest suspect when Vance came in the room.

"Why is he in there and you're all out here?" he asked.

Tony raised an eyebrow, "Um, rule 22?" he offered.

The director shot him a Look. "Agent Gibbs had an appointment fifteen minutes ago that he was specifically told not to be late for."

"He did not mention that to us," Ziva told him.

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. "Of course not." Vance started to go to knock on the door, but Tim caught his arm.

"Trust me, you don't want to do that," he tried to warn the director. However, after receiving an icy glare, McGee let go.

As anyone on his team could have predicted, Gibbs looked pissed when he opened the door. "What?" he barked.

"DiNozzo, David, take over," Vance told them. Both quickly escaped into the interrogation room and shut the door. "You had somewhere you were supposed to be right now, Gibbs."

"I had something better to do," he replied.

"Not anymore you don't. Go."

It was another fifteen minutes before Gibbs showed up for his appointment. Dr. Elizabeth Waverly, a Navy psychiatrist, offered a small smile as he came into her office. "I was wondering if you were actually going to show up, Agent Gibbs."

"Tried my best not to," he replied.

"So I noticed. Have a seat." She indicated one of the chairs by the window, and got up from her desk to join him. "Your co-workers are concerned about you."

He sniffed. "I'm fine."

"I've seen your file, Agent Gibbs. 'By the book' isn't really in your repertoire, hmm? Things must be pretty far off right now, to concern Director Vance enough that you've ended up here, wouldn't they?" Jethro decided that didn't really require an answer. "You were close to Director Shepard, weren't you?" the psychiatrist continued. "THAT wasn't rhetorical," she informed him when he didn't answer after a few moments.

"Yeah," he finally replied with an air of impatience.

"How long had you two known each other?"

"How many questions are you going to ask that you already know the answer to?"

"As many as it takes to fill our hour together," she replied.

"Half-hour," he corrected.

"Hour. I cancelled my next appointment. So, Agent Gibbs, how long did you and Director Shepard know each other?"

"Eight years."

"How did you meet?"

"We were working together. Partners."

"How long did the assignment last?"

" 'Bout a year."

"The director was killed by one of your targets, yes?"

He sighed, looking away and cursing Vance for giving the shrink free access to the mostly-classified case file. "Yeah."

"You had no knowledge that the woman was still alive, or that she was coming after you."

"No."

"Do you blame yourself for the Director's death?"

He had to force his mouth to stay closed, giving his brain a chance to catch up. "My team was supposed to be protecting her," he carefully answered.

"You weren't there," she pointed out. "You just told me you didn't even know she was in danger. How was it your fault?"

"She was my responsibility," was all he answered.

Dr. Waverly made a few notes on her pad of paper. "I want to ask you a few questions about your first wife." She could instantly see his shoulders tense and his jaw clench. "You don't like speaking about her," she easily deduced. "Do you also feel responsible for her death?"

"I…I wasn't there to protect her."

"Like the Director. There is a limit, Agent Gibbs, to what any of us is capable of doing to protect the ones we care about."

He slowly shook his head. "I didn't do enough."

"For who?"

"Either of them."

Predictably, Gibbs was not in a very good mood when he got back to his office an hour later. The volume level in the bullpen dropped noticeably when he exited the elevator. The other three members of his team seemed especially busy with their computers, though each snuck glances in his direction as he headed for his desk.

A box was waiting for him, with no return address listed. "Where'd this come from?" Gibbs asked. Tony, Ziva, and Tim exchanged glances, as if trying to decide who would be brave enough to answer.

"Courier dropped it off about a half-hour ago, Boss," Tony finally told him.

Jethro pulled his knife from his pocket, flicked it open, and cut the tape. The first thing on top was a note, reading WE NEED TO TALK. Underneath and protected by packing peanuts was a cell phone.

"New phone, Boss?" McGee asked as he noticed.

"Uh, yeah. Thought maybe I'd get an upgrade." Turning the device on, he discovered there was only one contact saved to the list, the number again unidentified. "I want an update on the case when I get back," he told his team before heading to the elevator.

Once he was stopped between floors, he dialed the number and waited for someone to answer. "Jen?" he asked when he heard the call connect.

"It's me," she answered. "I assume you got the package, then?"

"Yeah. What's going on, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Sort of."

"That's a 'yes' or 'no' question only, Jen."

"I'm fine," she repeated. "I just…something's come up that I really wasn't expecting and you need to know."

He leaned back against the elevator wall. "Okay. What is it?"

"I'm pregnant."

TBC...