"Boss ..."
"Whatcha got, McGee?" Gibbs asked into his cell phone – stopping short of entering the elevator.
"I've been able to track monies to an account in Perellos's maiden aunt's name, and .."
Gibbs listened carefully.
"Send it on over" he said after a while.
"Already on your desk" McGee said. "Abby brought it in this morning."
Gibbs could hear the sadness in his voice, and it brought out a little more of his own.
"On my way up there now" he said, refusing to dwell.
He paused for a moment.
"Good work, McGee."
Gibbs swept into the bullpen and swiped a manila envelope from his desk. He took the steps to the upper briskly.
"Problem?" the Director asked, eyeing the envelope.
"If you want it to be" Gibbs replied, tossing it in front of him.
Leon Vance perused its contents.
"I know it's always been lost on you, Gibbs, but they write the rules for a reason."
"I have rules too."
"So I hear" the Director replied, shifting a toothpick between his teeth.
He tossed the packet back to Gibbs' side of the desk.
"Any reason to stop us investigating this .. Leon?"
"We had this conversation two days ago. It isn't our problem any longer."
"Agent Perellos ..."
Vance cut him short.
"Agent Perellos is dead. His ties with Somali-based groups are being investigated by the FBI. It's out of our hands."
Gibbs opened his mouth but Vance didn't slow down.
"Summit's over. The country's heading into a general election, Jethro. These are troubled times. We need to look inwards now. We've fulfilled our obligation to SecNav, the FBI has taken over, we are done. "
When Gibbs didn't answer, Vance stood up took a step around his desk.
"I'm well aware of your relationship with Dr. Shepard."
Gibbs looked at him impassively but didn't rise to the provocation.
"Never been comfortable with intimacy in protection detail situations m'self."
"Me either" replied Gibbs, his eyes giving nothing away.
Vance watched him for a long moment and then walked back to his desk.
"It's over, Jethro. Am I clear?"
"Crystal" was all Gibbs said before he turned and walked out.
The knock on the door was quiet and almost hesitant, and Jen walked slowly through the house. She opened the door and smiled at Gibbs. He looked awkward but held up a bottle of bourbon.
She let out a small laugh and stood aside.
"You okay?" he asked as she took the bourbon from his hands and walked into her study.
She turned at the drinks cabinet.
"Fine."
He rolled his eyes as she handed him a glass, and she laughed again. A gentle sound that resonated with him.
"I will be fine?" she tried.
Gibbs smiled and seemed appeased with the answer. He angled his head slightly to read the titles as he walked towards the bookshelf.
Jen came up next to him and ran her fingers over the spines. She looked lost in thought, the light from the fire casting strange shadows on her face and the wall behind her. He reached out, almost unaware of his actions as he stroked her face. Her eyes cut to his. Questioning. Slightly wider. And even in the dim light he could see her hand trembling. He took the first step, uncurled her fingers from the glass clutched in her hands and placed it on the desk next to his. He turned back to her and wasn't surprised when she simply walked into his arms; wrapping an arm around his waist and just leaning against him.
They stood together for a while, their breath mingling in the space between them, drawing out the moment of being close to each other, before Jen stood in tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Gibbs opened his mouth to speak, but the look in her eyes and the way her face was inches from his had the words dying in his throat.
She reached forward, her fingers touching his face so lightly he could have imagined the touch if his eyes had been closed. Her fingers ran over his cheek bone, a thumb grazed over his bottom lip and her eyes met his again, sensuality shining from them.
A hand slid down his jaw and her fingers stroked the side of his neck. The touch was intimate, seductive, deliberate. Her hand moved again. Cupping the back of his head, winding her fingers into his hair and pulling him closer.
She kissed him.
"I'm fine, Jethro" she whispered, as if sensing his hesitation.
He pulled away and looked in her eyes. The kiss had left him feeling vulnerable and exposed. There were too many reasons why this had disaster written all over it, and yet he could feel himself tottering on a brink he just wanted to throw himself over.
They stood there for a while, trading slow, intimate kisses in the dim light. Both of them wanting to move, to take it further, but neither of them wanting to be the first to break the spell.
Jen was the first to step away, trailing a hand down his arm and entwining her fingers with his. He opened his mouth to speak but she placed a finger over it, a small smile gracing her delicate features.
"Stop thinking" she said as she tugged him towards the door.
He followed, almost unwilling. Wanting to talk, to explain what was going through his mind. But it was hard to do that when the smile she flashed him over her shoulder as she guided him up the stairs made every thought dissipate. Gibbs heard the door of her bedroom shut behind him and he couldn't shake the feeling that she was shutting the rest of the world out. Something he was grateful for. He didn't want to think about anyone else, and as he reached for Jen the rest of the world dissolved.
She sighed as she came into his arms, winding her own around him. Her hands slid under his shirt, splaying out across his back, pulling him closer, and their transition to bed was as fluid as though they'd been doing this forever. He wasn't even sure how he ended up beneath, but he was going with the flow until her fingers curled in his chest in a gentle pressure that caused the rest of the world to come crashing back around him.
His vision swam, and for a moment it was as though he was holding Shannon all over again.
There had been other red heads, but none had reminded him so much of her. For a second he thought Jen touching him that way might have triggered suppressed body memories – but then he realised that it was the look in her eyes as she leant down and pressed a kiss just above his heart. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent but not wanting to see her face. He didn't want to ask himself the question of why this woman in his arms had filled a void. He didn't know if it was because she reminded him of Shannon, or for another reason entirely, and the answer to both scared him.
He felt her tighten her grip around him and it pulled him from his thoughts. He kissed the exposed skin, feeling her muscles clench around him as she shuddered in his arms. But she kept on moving; pulling him closer and closer to the edge. He'd been so preoccupied that his own orgasm hit him unexpectedly – drawing from him a strangled moan that was as much one of intense sensation as the internal admission that he had contributed practically nothing to what had just happened
Jen lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him, her eyes dark, her skin flushed, her hair mussed. She looked heartbreakingly beautiful to him at that moment. She unwrapped a hand from his neck and fingered his cheek as she rested against him. His eyes slid closed as he held her – trying to find peace in the feel of her heartbeat against his chest.
She seemed to notice the tension still in him and shifted, pulling herself off him. She bit her bottom lip as her muscles protested, but she perched on the side of the bed, wrapping the sheet around her.
"It's alright Jethro" she said tenderly. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. I won't be offended if you don't stay for dinner."
She stared intently at him. He felt her gaze but ignored it. He didn't want to have to explain. Words didn't come easily with him, and he had no idea where to start anyway.
Jen looked at him as he pulled his clothes on.
There was no denying the fact that she wanted him to stay, but she had seen the faraway look in his eyes as he held her close, the glazed expression that flickered over his face, followed swiftly by something startlingly similar to pain and regret when he thought she wasn't looking. And she was no fool; there was something he was battling with, something that was beyond her control to try to help him with.
"This woman I remind you of ... she's dead, isn't she?" she asked, suddenly - her small hand touching his face almost hesitantly when he stood in front of her waiting to leave.
Gibbs was taken aback by the question; found himself unable to answer. She seemed to take his silence as an assent and smiled sadly. Trailing her fingers down his cheek and along his jaw again, as if she couldn't get enough of the feel of the stubble beneath her fingers.
His hand closed over hers and squeezed slightly, but he said nothing.
"Is this your version of goodbye?" she asked as he looked down at her.
There was no accusation in her eyes - only understanding, a little hurt, and regret.
Gibbs cupped her face. He brought her face forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. A long, slow kiss.
"I'm sorry Jenny" was all he could bring himself to say.
Please remember that lynching is illegal, so put your pitchforks down (especially you Aly!). Plus...if you kill us, we wont be able to update.
V and E