Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS…Only my character.

Anthor's note: This is going to be the last update until probably Monday next week. Too much going on at home for me to take the time to post another chapter until then.

Thanks for the reviews and feedback…I'm glad you like it!

Silence ruled in the car on the way back to Gibbs' house. Jess kept her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes gaze turned out the tinted window. Once parked in the driveway, Gibbs came around and opened the door for her. She stood up, with difficulty, ignoring the hand he held out to her. She limped slowly into the house, slumped into a chair at the table. "Why did you come after me?" she asked quietly after he came in.

Gibbs leaned on the counter, didn't turn toward her. "I have my reasons."

"This situation is not in your jurisdiction," she said. "I'm not military, and as far as you can prove, the guy who shot me could have been anyone, even a mugger. What is your interest in me? What's Fornell's?"

Gibbs didn't answer her. He poured himself a cup of coffee, stared out the window.

"Now I get the silent treatment," she muttered, more to herself than anything else. She was saved from saying anything further by the timely arrival of Ducky, along with a dark-haired woman.

"How are you feeling, my dear?"

"Not in need of your services as a medical examiner, anyway. That's about the best I can say."

"You should not be up and about," Ducky informed her, as he checked her vitals.

"I can't stay in bed for the rest of my life. I've got places to go, things to do, assuming I can ever get Gibbs to let me go."

"I heard about your break for freedom," the Englishman said with a gentle smile and a chuckle.

"I'm trying to make things easier on you all," she said, miserably. "I don't want anyone to be responsible for my well-being. Why the hell not take advantage of my willingness to go off on my own? Why chase me down and drag me back?"

Gibbs put his coffee cup down and left the room without a word, and the dark haired woman followed him. Ducky took her hand. "Did he ever tell you about his first wife?" he asked quietly.

"I didn't know he had one. I only know he was a Marine before he became an NCIS agent."

"While Jethro was in Iraq, during Desert Storm, she witnessed a murder, and was under guard by an NIS agent. One day, on the way home, the agent was shot and killed as he drove their van home. Gibb's wife and eight-year old daughter were killed in the crash that followed."

"Her name was Shannon," Gibbs said, from the doorway, startling Ducky. His face was unreadable.

"I'm sorry," Jess said. She shook her head. "I know what it feels like." She stood up, pushed the chair back to the table. "I don't want you to keep risking your life for me out of a misplaced sense of responsibility, Agent Gibbs. If you want to help me, give me my keys, and let me go. If you don't want to do that, then it's clear to me that this is personal, and that I'm as much a prisoner as a victim in this." She turned and walked away, turned back. "I'm not Shannon, Gibbs. You're not responsible for my life, for failing to be there for me. At best, it's my fault for not really paying attention to what's going on around me, and for not caring.

"You're going to end up in hot water with your boss for being out of the office too much, and I don't want to be the reason you lose your job. Investigating my shooting is the job of the city police. It's not your job, or Fornell's. And if it's too dangerous to let the police investigate it, then just forget it."

Gibbs just stared at her, the signature Gibbs glare turned on, but having no effect at all. Finally, he said, "It is the responsibility of a federal agent, when the suspected shooter may be a terrorist."

"Fornell said he thought the shooter was CIA."

"Not sure. We're investigating." The sarcasm in his tone was evident to her, but she chose to ignore it.

"Sometimes, Agent Gibbs, there isn't much difference." She left him standing in the kitchen, with Ducky and the dark-haired woman.