Author's Note: There's a price for instant popularity. Suzanne Gibbs was becoming a hot commodity in the political circles in Washington. Her husband, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, while proud, prefers a stay-at-home wife. This latest installment discusses his conflicted feelings towards women. Well-intentioned yet very traditionalist in his viewpoints, he becomes more agitated with an independent, strong-willed wife. Gibbs ponder if his views on women, particularly about Suzanne, will harm or hinder their marriage.

Jethro Gibbs agreed with workplace equality. His world at NCIS was black and white, what was right and just. Same criteria, same experience should equal the same pay scale, regardless of gender. He served with women as a Marine and as a Special Agent, learned through service a soldier carried their gear the same way, man or woman. On crime scenes, it was last names—DiNozzo, McGee, Bishop, and for a time, McNamara. When it came to interpersonal relationships, men and women, Jethro and Ducky remained well-meaning, well-intentioned chauvinists—proud and prejudiced towards women. There were distinctions, exceptions named Ellie, Abby, and Susie. The two upheld beliefs that it was a man's responsibility to care for women. The elders were more vocal than the younger. All held special considerations for the women, way beyond work-related. Jethro viewed Abby Scuito and Eleanor Bishop as daughters, since both were close to Kelly's age, if she remained alive. It was one exception to the rule.

Suzanne McNamara, now Gibbs, was entirely another subject. The package enticed him enough to marry a fifth time. What he admired most about was a tad bothersome.

Suzanne was a career-oriented woman, a product of the Women's Movement. She was representative of how gender did not stand in the way of ambition—soft-spoken when needed, unequivocally defiant and resistant of supposed roles for men and women. Suzanne "crawled before walked," worked hard, paid dues, and respected those before that poked holes in a gender-biased ceiling. She was a challenge, the new hybrid of woman, one that intrigued him. Jethro pursued her with romantic passion, studied her expressions, emotions, ethics and mannerisms like a skilled chess master. Suzanne outmaneuvered, outsmarted many with God-given academic and common sense. Jethro also appreciated the fact she was also equally attractive, which she truly downplayed.

'Still, you're my wife. I just want to keep you safe, Susie.'

Jethro often expressed displeasure in Suzanne's busy occupation. Her job was equally unsafe—working for the President of the United States. Her increasing popularity worried both, the spotlight growing larger on the 30 year aide.

"You should worry about me in Washington!"

Jethro viewed his "Susie" a full-time wife and should be completely satisfied with that role and not a career, one potentially dangerous as his.

"I'd like to have a career outside of simply being Mrs. Jethro Gibbs." Suzanne replied, gently kissing his cheek, tracing his white t-shirt with a finger. She smiled, looked adoringly in his eyes.

"I love being your wife, but I've worked for more."

She returned from Europe a week ago, scheduled to remain on the desk for another month, elaborating and researching more information on the Latin America tour. The Gibbs' were looking forward to their time together.

"Today I have a speaking engagement at the Charter School." That day, she wore a gray suit, with the jacket hugging her natural curves. She was a fan of t-shirts, like Jethro, but seldom wore hers to work. The light gray ringer-shirt with a Schoolhouse Rock "Sufferin' Sister" icon was a fun twist. Suzanne deviated from the bun hairstyle that particular day. Her braided, curly brown hair rested against her shoulders. Suzanne opted for the tennis sneakers. The White House schedule was light—mostly focused around education. She and the President planned the visit weeks before. The topic was centered on 'Women's History Month' to local middle school students. "Today is about "Suffering 'til Suffrage."

"See you later, Alligator—and don't forget my mashed potatoes…" Jethro commented, a direct line from the iconic song. His hands lovingly tapped her bottom.

Chuckling, placing her hands on her hips, she kissed Jethro on the lips. "See you tonight."

A small part of his ego wanted Suzanne to stay at home, prepare dinner, and happily enjoy the stereotypical wifely duties—cooking, cleaning and listening to his action-filled day at work. After hours, his wishes were fulfilled. When she was home, it smelled of fresh cut flowers with the whiff of dinner from the kitchen. The clothes were washed, folded and stored away. For one week, maybe two, Suzanne further decorated the home, seemed perfectly content with general cleaning.

She was unaccustomed to the attention—constant name yelling and flash photography—and enjoyed days at home. Jethro did not worry so much about her safety in Washington. That day would change his perception.


"I shared my dream with my parents and both supported me in their own ways." She shared with students memories from middle school, the time she decided to attend law school.

"My mom was a teacher and dad was in the military. They instilled in me, particularly my mom, that I had choices. My daddy was the one who taught me how to break the rules about what men and women were supposed to do in life. I have lived on my own terms, my own merit."

The two divided the group among the genders, feeling that Suzanne was better equipped to motivate young women. Some young men mingled into the group, interested more in the female than the President of the United States! The girls were inspired, enthralled by her time in the Peace Corps, her personal life more than working with President Owens!

"I just got married about 6 months ago, but I did what I wanted to do before I made that commitment."

Suzanne answered a valid question from a young man about marriage, the possibility of motherhood, and a career for women-and viewed it as a teachable moment for youth. She answered yes when asked of her marital status, her engagement and wedding bands shined from a small glimmer of light. She focused on the girls, reminding them of lessons learned from her parents, from simply living and observing.

"Listen, you cannot allow people to pigeon-hole you, to determine what can and cannot be done in life—male or female. Suzanne continued, very relaxed, even flashed a few more smiles, laughs than usual when sharing memories from her own upbringing.

"The question of having it all is best answered by individual wants and needs." Suzanne concluded. "That means you determine everything in your life, from career, education and relationships." The girls giggled. "Hey, I was 12, 13 one time…Times have changed but puberty hasn't."

Her cellphone vibrated several times during the assembly, indicating messages. The vibrations were more active than usual. She glanced downward, noticing the messages.

· From Claudia: 'Q—check tablet.'

· From Jane in Press Corps: 'Q, sit-rep with D.O.: ASAP.'

· From Jethro: 'Really, Suzanne?!'

"One thing about working for the White House is that it's a 24/7 job!" She chuckled, her focus back on the students. "Unfortunately, the President and I have to leave right now." The students groaned as Suzanne displayed her cellphone briefly, simple head nod to the President indicating to leave.

"Hey, keep up the good work, and we'll come back soon! Thank you very much!"


The President and Suzanne rode back to the White House, planned to stop at the burger place for lunch.

"I'm looking forward to the black and blue burger…" Suzanne smiled.

"That's why we're going!" The President said. "Just wanted to thank you with a little grease in your system…" An incoming call on her personal phone came through; her caller ID flashed a picture of Jethro.

"Hi, Sweetie."

"A kid…" He continued, trying to remain calm. "You were inches away from a kid with a razor blade?!"

"Jethro…" Suzanne interrupted.

"That's the kind of stuff I've been worried about!" Jethro stopped momentarily, continued with an angry tone.

"Don't sweet-talk me, Suz. The security threat is in the news cycle…the cameras show a picture of you literally inches away from the kid…"

Suzanne checked the interdepartmental mail from her tablet computer, merely listening to his rants.

Breaking News: Prime Minister dead at 55—According to ZNN.

"Jethro, I'll call you back." She passed the tablet to the President. "I need 10 minutes with the President…"

"Suzanne, don't—"

She disconnected the line.

"Sit-rep?" He asked.

"He died about two hours ago…massive heart attack. He will lay in state…memorial service on Friday." She continued listening to messages.

"Press Secretary needs a comment; Advance needs to know next steps."

"There goes the Hell Burger. Let's go back." The President requested. Dash tapped on the window, a finger indicating to go back.

"Ever done a State Funeral?"

Suzanne's nod indicated no.

"You're about to do one, Q."


She returned to her desk around lunchtime, sorting through mail when the President shared his decision: the emergency trip. Suzanne grabbed coffee and multi-tasked at several responsibilities. The President emerged from the office with his gear.

"It's a 16 hour flight, Q." The President leaned against her desk, suit bag in hand. Suzanne grabbed his bag, placed on the side of her desk.

"We're leaving in two hours. Claudia's packing; are you packed?"

Suzanne nodded, printing the itinerary from her desktop.

"I just picked up the bag from Mr. Kim this morning." She pointed to her bags in the storage room, furiously typing away on the keyboard. "I'm finishing a rough draft of remarks—basic biography, accomplishments, especially our cordial relationship with the Prime Minister."

"You might want to call Gunny back, let him know we're heading out." The President suggested. He glanced at the picture, sighed heavily. "Please apologize for me taking you away…again…during a quiet week."

"Yes, Mr. President."

"I'm serious, Suzanne." The President continued to walk towards the library. "That's your husband; you're his wife...I overheard, couldn't help it."

Her desk, near the Presidential library, was visible to others. Suzanne reached for her NSA approved phone, dialed Jethro's extension at NCIS. The Bluetooth device was already affixed to her left ear.

"I want to talk about this security breach, Susie...with a cool head and after hours." Jethro began. "Thought we could go see Elaine at the Diner, then stop off for ice cream."

"Jethro, I'm heading out…again." Suzanne informed him, sounding disappointed. "I'm going to a state Funeral with the Boss." Jethro sighed heavily. "Thought I'd let you know before the Press Secretary makes the announcement in 45 minutes."

Suzanne watched the personnel move in a hurried pace. Her work pace quickened as a result, noticing the clock. At every turn, she bumped into a Secret Service agent, young and ambitious, merely waiting for further instructions. She paid little attention, returned to continue typing and researching from her desk. Briefly, she removed her eyeglasses to clean the lenses. From the corner of her eye, Suzanne noticed the young agent staring, smiling, and raising an eyebrow for interest.

"Hold on for a second, Jethro."

'Hey! My eyes are right here!' Suzanne commanded respect and willing displayed the same to colleagues. The young man continued smiling.

"My build, my supposed good-looks…don't get it twisted." Jethro chuckled at her muttering.

Suzanne studied law and policy and knew it well. Her late father instilled the 'Army Strong', take no nonsense approach as well, teaching his only girl to remain a lady but conduct manly business. She was business minded and dressed, spoke and directed accordingly. The attitude served her well as a Presidential Aide. Quickly, Suzanne turned the tides-loudly, boldly at work. The heavy bosoms and shapely curves were distracting but always, she reminded the males it was about business. She owned mostly dress pantsuits, added a pink oxford shirt to accentuate a pinstripe or pinned a matching flower to the lapel.

Suzanne continued gathering files. "If you can't handle this, I can recommend grounding you. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am." The young officer replied. She continued the conversation, cellphone cradled in her ear.

Quickly she wrapped her flowing hair into a bun, slipped on her glasses. Suzanne described the physical transformation as 'sticking to the script.'

"Now, make sure these bags and that satchel gets on Air Force One, please? This belongs to the Boss."

"Yes, ma'am." He answered, embarrassed. A moment of silence passed.

"You need me to take your bags, Mrs. Gibbs?"

"No, Agent Roe." Suzanne smiled. "Thank you for the offer."

The conversation sounded awfully familiar, except Jethro was generally the one who had orders, leaving his spouse—spouses-for days, weeks and months at a time.

"That's why I keep an extra bag packed, Jethro; a go bag at the office." Suzanne continued, retrieving her garment bag from the storage room and sitting it on her desk. She always kept two pantsuits—one black and the other blue—with five buttoned shirts—white, pink, blue, gray and green—and a modest black dress in her suit bag. It was seldom she wore dresses, concluding her frame was better suited for pants and jackets. Her smaller bag, as a rule of thumb, always kept flat dress shoes one pair tennis shoes, denim jeans, two t-shirts, socks, pantyhose, and at least a week's worth of undergarments, including the slip. "I never know when I need to leave again."

"Suzanne, I think you should have a few agents assigned to you, especially when you're with the President." Jethro revealed. Suzanne leaned back in her chair, remained focus on his thoughts. "I don't want…"

"Ready, Q-Bert?" The President called, rapping on the wall three short times. Generally, he called her Q. Lately, he added other words associated with the letter Q—Queen, Quiet and Quite. Quebec was his favorite.

'Let's move it out.' He tapped on the desk, walked towards the breezeway.

"I have to go, Jethro. We'll be back in a few days." Suzanne gathered files and placing them in her backpack, slinging it across her back. She recognized the softness in his voice.

"Jethro, I'll be okay. You worry too much, Sweetie." Jethro heard in the background whispered directives to and from Suzanne, answered by an okay. With her hands, she directed movement. Suzanne left her desk, grabbed her suit bag and small duffle from the storage room and proceeded to move quickly.

"I'll call you soon as we land. I promise." He detected in the background the sound of her heeled shoes. Suzanne stopped at the corridor.

"Hey…I love you."

"I love you too, Jethro." She closed her phone, stared at the group. The people smiled. Suzanne, in turn, smiled wider, batted her eyes in slight embarrassment. The President and First Lady boarded Air Force One, with Suzanne and other members of the entourage following behind. The boarding was on live with ZNN. Jethro paused, smiled with pride while watching Suzanne board the plane, backpack resting on her left hip and her right hand clutched the garment bag. Claudia was beside her, the two having a conversation.

"There's Suzanne Gibbs, the President's Aide, boarding on Air Force One with members of the Secret Service and the President Senior Aide, Claudia Bailey. President Owens and Mrs. Gibbs were at Jefferson Charter School and learned of the news on their way back. The Press Secretary just announced their impromptu trip to the State Funeral of the Prime Minister...the date is due to religious and ceremonial practices in the country."

"Suz on another trip, Boss?" Tony asked, noticed her face on the television.

"State funeral."

"You worried about the school visit?" Tony leaned closer.

He nodded.

"She handled it really well." Tony complimented. "No one was hurt. The kid is detained…"

"Yeah, now, DiNozzo." Jethro's anger returned. "She's an Aide, not an agent."

Tony moved away and returned to his work station, worked quietly but watched his boss.

He promised not to get involved with Suzanne's work. Jethro wanted Suzanne to remain safe.

'I'm sorry, Sugar. You are my responsibility.' Gibbs whispered, glancing at her picture. He had a recent snapshot sent to him from her coworker Claudia, asking his help to convince her publicity photo saved within Presidential archives. It was from the European junket, with Suzanne in the stunning outfit. Three small photos—all were showing a perfectly posed, self-assured woman standing proudly on the podium answering questions. In New Times Roman font, it identified the person-Suzanne D. Gibbs—Presidential Aide. Underneath was a caption in Suzanne's semi-legible cursive writing: "Of course women don't work hard as men: we get it right the first time! " It was a comment made in front of reporters.

He reached for his desk phone once spotting Dash in the crowd.

"Hey, this is Gibbs…I need to ask you a favor, Dash."

"She noticed him before we did, Gunny." He stood beside the ramp, watched others board the plane, continuing to speak with Gibbs.

"Sure she wasn't a field agent?" Dash asked. "She took the young man away from the Boss and spoke with him one-on-one in an isolated area and retrieved the blade."

"She's an Army brat and Marine wife." Gibbs answered.

"Glad you called. Don't worry: all eyes are now also on Thumper and Dice." Dash assured. "The Boss requested it after the incident." The Service Staff assigned names. While the President referred to the staff by initials, the Agency assigned interesting handles. To keep with President Owens' fondness for Bond, the nickname 'Thumper' belonged to Suzanne Gibbs, a Bond Girl known for athletic prowess.

'That's my wife,' he thought, chuckled slightly.

Claudia was dubbed a Service name as well: Dice. Dash answered as to why the unusual moniker for the colleague. 'Never know how she'll roll on a particular day.'

Jethro laughed, understanding the unpredictability of both Suzanne and Claudia.

"He's telling her about the detail while on the plane." Dash was the last to board. "No ands, ifs, or buts, she's getting two agents assigned to her whenever she's out on the road—even if I have to do it myself. Same goes for Claudia and Linda."

"Thanks, Dash."

"I'll keep you in the loop about it."

He thanked Dash once again and Jethro disconnected the line. Tony glanced at his supervisor, concluded by his contented look that he was satisfied with the conversation.

"Boss, Suzanne is not going to like it." Tony shared his point-of-view. "You know she's a free-spirit."

A moment passed before Jethro spoke once again.

"Well, you know what, DiNozzo? It's not for her to like." Jethro glanced through files. He pushed them away, sighed heavily and leaned back in the chair. "I'm just…"

"Overprotective?"

"No: a chauvinist." Jethro admitted.