A/N: Thanks to aserene!
The moment Justin Conrad went down, Pacci and Stan rushed the room, immediately pulling Daisy away from her dead captor and un-gagging her.
Gibbs shoved Conrad's body off of him and turned violently on Jenny, grabbing the gun in her shaking hand and jerking it forward, pulling her with it. He pried it out of her hands and held her wrist tightly, starting her down with livid eyes.
"What the hell were you doing, Shepard?" he barked. "Your hesitation nearly cost that girl her life,"
Jenny flinched, unable to work her vocal cords. She'd fired desperately just before Conrad had had a chance to shoot at Daisy, right as Gibbs had cursed at her across the room. In one heart-stopping moment when Gibbs went down under Conrad's body, she thought she'd hit him.
Gibbs shook her.
"If you doubt your aim that much, you don't deserve to be in the field," he yelled.
She was still in too much shock to be ashamed that he was lashing her in front of their colleagues. He breath nearly stopped at his threat, and she winced again as he tightened his grip on her arm, trying to pull away. He held her tight.
"If I ever see you do that again—ever—if you ever hesitate to shoot because you think you'll hit an agent, if you risk a victim's life again in a moment of doubt—you cannot do that Shepard! You can't doubt yourself,"
She shrank back again from the violence of his tangent. This wasn't just professional disapproval—there was something deeper bothering him. Something personal about the girl.
"You hesitate again, and I'll have you badge," he snarled, glaring at her.
Jenny swallowed, recovering her senses slightly. She straightened up a little.
"Answer me," he demanded coldly.
"I understand," she said hoarsely.
He released her roughly, dropping her arm at her side, taking her gun with him as he turned towards Pacci and Stan. Stan had hit all the lights; Pacci was kneeling by Daisy as he untied her and tried to calm her crying.
"Someone get Morand," Stan said briefly, picking up Conrad's dropped gun.
Jenny stepped carefully into the room. Pacci looked up from Daisy as Gibbs came closer and stood, wiping his hands slightly on his jeans. He for once didn't have a light comment for her like he usually did after one of Gibbs' lectures. He started past her towards the front door and touched her shoulder as he past, nodding slightly to her.
"Daisy? My name is Jethro. Do you want to see you dad?" he asked in a very different tone than Jenny had ever heard him use.
The little girly sniffled and nodded her head, looking very small.
Gibbs reached out and smoothed down her tangled hair. He held out his arms gently and picked her up, resting his hand lightly on the back of her head as he turned around to follow Pacci. Daisy buried her head in his shoulder and stuck her thumb in her mouth.
Stan turned away with a grim look, dialing Ducky on his cell phone to come for the body.
Jenny moved out of the way as Gibbs passed her with Daisy. She met his eyes and looked away quickly. She felt like everything was moving in slow motion around her while she just watched. Everything had happened so fast, she'd almost cost Daisy her life…her slug was imbedded in the side of Conrad's head.
Her vision swam and she blinked, shaking her head and following Gibbs silently towards the porch. It was too bright outside, the afternoon too warm, for what they'd just gone through. She blinked in the sun, barely making out Agent Langer with the car. Jonathan Morand stood with him.
Morand looked up as Gibbs came out of the house and stood still as a post for a moment, before he broke into a run across the street. Daisy looked up at the sound of her name.
"Daddy," she whimpered, looking around from Gibbs' shoulders.
Morand reached them in seconds, holding out his arms. Daisy twisted and reached for him, starting to cry all over again.
"Daisy, baby," he breathed, kissing her head and her cheeks, "Oh I thought I'd never see you…I love you, baby," he put his head into the little' girls hear for a moment, and when he looked up he was smiling at Gibbs through tears.
Jenny put a hand to her mouth, breathing in shakily.
"Thank you, Agent Gibbs," Corporal Morand said, "I've been so…I can't live without her…I—"
"I know," Gibbs interrupted quietly, touching Daisy's hair again gently. "Take care of her, Corporal." He said quietly, turning away.
Jonathan Morand wrapped himself up in his daughter as Gibbs walked away. He stopped and said something to Pacci, who started towards Langer.
He looked up and Jenny caught his eyes. She thought he looked sad; his face so tired and blank. She dropped her hand from her mouth and hugged herself, rubbing her arm slightly, and looked away from him.
She'd almost failed tonight. She closed her eyes, unable to think of what would have happened if she hadn't forced herself to make that shot.
Jenny walked back into the bullpen from the Director's office. Gibbs had left her to brief him while he closed things up with Corporal Morand and his daughter.
As she walked over to the filing cabinet to fish out a blank incident report, Gibbs materialized out of nowhere next to her. She stood looking at him silently over the open drawer when he lifted his hand and beckoned her forward with a finger.
"With me," he said neutrally. She shut the drawer forcefully and followed him without a word. He led her to the elevator and pressed the down button, standing silently next to her as they waited for it to open.
She stared straight ahead when they stepped in, still half-afraid of the look she'd get from him if she met his eyes.
He flicked a switch on the elevator and the lights went off as the elevator stopped abruptly.
Well. That was unexpected.
After a moment, he turned towards her, and waited. She turned to face him reluctantly.
"That was your first kill," he said in that same voice. She still refused to look at him.
"I'm fine," she said honestly. She hadn't thought about it. Didn't want to. She'd saved a life when she'd taken Conrad's. It didn't faze her.
He looked at her quietly a moment.
"I've seen you shoot, Jenny," he started quietly; "you're a damn good marksman." He paused here, as if he was still expecting her to say something. She remained silent, glaring at the collar of his jacket. There were still splotches of blood there from Daisy's lip and Conrad's head.
"Why did you hesitate?" he asked.
Jenny looked up slowly and finally met his eyes for a short moment.
"What do you want me to say?" she asked, barely moving her lips. "I'm a probie. I didn't think I could do it."
He shook his head slowly.
"No," he said "You're better than that. You know you're good. Why did you hesitate?" he repeated.
She glared at him this time, the scene flashing through her memory before she could focus on anything too closely; Gibbs yelling, Conrad falling, turning the gun on Daisy, her pulling the trigger.
"I want an answer, Jen," he prompted, a little less calmly this time.
"Why do you call me that?" she asked instead, narrowing her eyes at him. "I hate it."
It was only half a lie. It was a sharp remind her of her father she didn't want to hear and yet, at the same time, when he said it...
"I like it," he responded, after a shrug and –she swore—the barest hint of a smirk.
She glared at him a second longer and swallowed, turning back to face the elevator doors. She reached for the emergency switch and he reached across her, grabbing her hand.
She jerked her head around to him, about to give him a piece of her mind. She stopped and leaned back at his proximity to her. She felt like he was looking into her head with those piercing eyes, and against her will, found herself answering his damned question.
"I thought I might hit you," she capitulated through gritted teeth.
He let go of her arm and leaned back a little. He didn't react at all at her confession, just studied her silently for what seemed, to her, like a freaking hour.
"You have to be prepared to take that shot," he said grimly, "to take that risk. Do you understand?"
It was different than what she expected. She expected him to berate her for being weak, for doubting herself, something…other than what he'd said.
"Okay," she said softly, nodding.
He reached forward across her and flicked the switch, turning the lights and the elevator back on. She caught her breath as his arm drew back across her shoulders, his fingers brushing against his neck. He didn't say another word, and let her off the elevator first in Autopsy.
Ducky was just locking a body in one of the compartments when they entered through the sliding doors.
"Jethro, Jenny," he greeted tiredly, smiling sadly. "It has not been a pleasant day."
He looked at both of them without saying anything.
"I'm very glad that man got his little girl back," he said finally, "I cannot imagine losing a child."
Gibbs cleared his throat softly and put his hand behind Jenny's shoulders, drawing her forward.
"Tea," he said gruffly. "And do whatever you do," he added, nodding at his old friend.
Ducky looked at Gibbs, a question forming on his lips, but the marine was gone in seconds.
"The case got to him," Ducky mused curiously, looking back to Jenny.
"It got to all of us," she said hoarsely, walking towards Ducky.
She was tired, blaming herself, and angry. And on top of all that she was confused.
Jethro Gibbs finally didn't have a reason to dread going home. He didn't have to draw out his work or find some way to keep himself at NCIS—not since Diane had all but moved out. Her things were still in the house, but she wasn't. He couldn't exactly say he missed her.
And still he couldn't bring himself to go home, not tonight. Not after the Morand Case. He couldn't go home to an empty house and let himself think about the look on Corporal Morand's face when he'd heard about his wife, the look he'd gotten when he thought he'd never see his daughter again, and then, finally, the look he'd gotten when he'd gotten his little girl back.
He knew that pain. What he didn't know was that happiness, that relief, of knowing your child was safe again.
He rested his forehead in his palm as he finished his notes for Jenny's training file, looking at the words without seeing them. He'd kill for a generous shot of bourbon. There were a few things he'd kill for right now.
He looked up at Jenny, working on her report across the bullpen. She hadn't shown any sign of leaving since she'd come up from her tea with Ducky, and it was nearly twenty-one hundred. As out of character as it was, he vaguely wondered what demons were keeping her from her nice townhouse.
He wasn't blind; he'd noticed how she'd reacted when they'd been called to investigate the suicide. She firmly refused to accept it was self-harm, immediately insisting they should consider murder above all else. It indicated she had a sensitive spot about suicide.
This case had worn them both thin. He'd nearly killed her when she barged into his interrogation; the fact that she'd been right had been the only thing to restrain him. He regretted riding Corporal Morand so hard; he'd been distracted. On the edge already because of the sudden demands Diane was making.
The woman had gone psycho.
He looked over Shepard's file again and shut it, running his hand over the paper absently. He leaned back and looked at her, bent over her paper still.
"Go home, Jenny."
She looked up at him momentarily and then back down, blowing him off quickly.
"The report can wait," he pushed, "go rest."
She looked back up and slammed her pen down, agitated.
"Take your own advice, Jethro," she snapped, throwing a nasty glare at him.
She rarely called him by his first name. Any other agent wouldn't dare, wouldn't get away with it. She said it deliberately when he got on her case just to flout his authority.
He wasn't going to tell her anytime soon he didn't mind.
He pulled his half finished incident report to him and picked up his pen again, starting to fill out the technical stuff.
"Don't you have a wife who wants you home?" he heard her mutter sarcastically.
He almost smirked to himself, glad to be reminded he didn't actually have to go home and deal with Diane. Then he remembered what she was asking for alimony and what the empty house meant, and stopped smirking.
He didn't even know why he replied to her under-the-breath comment, but he did before he could stop the words.
"Diane left," he said dully.
It made it curiously final to say the words out loud. And besides that bastard lawyer of Diane's and her loud-mouth friend, Jenny was the first to know he was getting divorced. Again.
Pacci was going to have a damn field day.
He felt her eyes on him, and looked up to see her looking at him hesitantly.
"Don't apologize," he warned, half-teasing and half-serious.
"I wasn't going to," she mumbled.
After another silent few minutes of staring down the ridiculous paperwork, unwilling to relive the day and the feelings, he stood up, placing his hands on the desk, knocking aside the paperwork.
"Come on," he said shortly, drawing Jenny's attention from hers as well. He grabbed his keys and flipped off his desk lamp, picking up his jacket as well.
He made his way to her desk, flicked off her lamp, and shut her paperwork file.
"I'll buy ya dinner," he said, throwing his jacket on and shrugging his shoulders to get into it.
Jenny looked up at him with a quirked eyebrow, assuming he'd lost his mind or something. He jerked his hand forward, beckoning her, and turned abruptly for the elevator. After watching his back suspiciously for a moment, she figured she could use the down time, grabbed her purse, and followed him.