A/N: As promised; the epilogue. I'm tickled to death by it, though it's not what you're expecting, I'll wager. There's a bit of a time jump.
Alas, another NCIS-less week. Tsk, tsk, CBS.
Epilogue
"On the topic of how the Media crafts perception of individuals, let's get a taste of what that can mean. No need to look far. You tell me—shout it out—what you thought of me when you read my name on your schedules," she smirked slightly, coming around her desk. "What prejudices did you have, what assumptions did you make?"
Perching on the end of her desk, Jennifer Shepard leaned casually on one palm, supporting her weight easily.
She eyed the classroom; one brow lifted, and pursed her lips.
"Don't be shy," she coaxed crisply, tilting her head. "We know each other well, after half a semester—what perceptions did you have of me?"
The former Director of NCIS waited, meeting the eyes of each caught-off-guard, slightly uncomfortable university freshman. After a moment, a girl in the back lifted her pencil and bit her lip, then spoke.
"I thought you were a whore," she said tentatively.
Jenny nodded her head curtly.
"So did channel eight," she said with a shrug. "Anyone else brave?"
"I thought you were unprofessional."
"You sounded like a bitch."
"I thought you deserved justice."
"I thought you were irresponsible."
Once the hesitancy was broken, the students began to offer frank opinions—which was what she wanted. The students were always shocked when she did this. She nodded curtly with each confession, again eyeing the student who had said it.
It was, after all, a politics and media class. What better way to illustrate how media influenced American citizens than to use her own experience?
"I thought you were a liar."
"I thought you told the truth."
"I thought you were hot," piped up a rowdy looking fraternity brother from the front.
Jenny quirked an eyebrow at him and said nothing, looking around the classroom with approval.
"And now?" she asked.
"You're smart," said one girl.
"Uhh, you're kind of a prude," said the girl who had first called her a whore, flushing slightly.
"You're a hard ass."
"Still hot," drawled the boy again.
Jenny crossed one knee over the other, smoothing the fabric of her skirt as she waited for the murmuring to die down. She leaned back on her other hand, staring at the students, and shrugged her shoulders lightly.
"Think about that," she said mildly. "The perceptions you had when you saw my name. Perceptions crafted by the media. Then consider how long it took you to let go of those prejudices once you interacted with me. Come prepared next week to discuss the sinister nature of character assassination."
The students began to shuffle around, a low roar of talking erupting, as they got ready to leave. She sat where she was until most of them had trickled out. When the classroom was empty, she slowly gathered her things, removing her University ID from around her neck as she slung her soft leather bag over her shoulder. She bit her lip and closed her eyes momentarily, bracing herself for going home.
She had slipped out early this morning to avoid his looks, but she knew he'd be home early tonight.
Taking a deep breath, Jenny straightened and walked towards the door, tucking her necklace into her shirt protectively. She flicked off the classroom lights and shut the door behind her.
It was three years to the day since she'd been fired.
He ran his hand smoothly over the sanded edge of the boat, his eyes narrowed critically as he analyzed his work and the wood. He heard her come in, heard her footsteps, and expected her to come downstairs—but she didn't.
Narrowing his eyes, Leroy Jethro Gibbs paused and straightened, staring up at the ceiling cautiously. She was still hiding from him, then, like she'd been when she slipped out so damn early this morning.
He threw the sander into his toolbox and went up the stairs, taking them two at a time and brushing his hands off on his jeans.
"Jen?" he called, glancing into the kitchen. "Jenny—" he began, turning to walk through the rest of the house. Her movement caught his eye though and he stopped; she was sitting by the fireplace, her hand tented delicately over something.
He shut up and walked towards her casually, looking down at her a minute. He sat on the couch, leaning forward on his knees.
"Bad day at work?" he asked mildly, eyes boring into her.
She currently worked as chair of the Communications Department and a professor of political media at American University, and Gibbs was sure it had been a bad day. On a campus like that—considering whom she was—the topic of Howard's release from jail had no doubt come up.
Jenny shrugged and puckered her lips.
"No," she answered curtly. "My colleagues and students were silently infuriating," she answered sarcastically. He smirked, moving off the couch to sit on the floor and lean against it. He put his hands in his lap and tilted his head, glaring at her in his concerned way.
"I'm fine, Jethro, I don't give a damn," she said shortly. She looked away from him.
"Dammit, Jenny," he swore tiredly. "Just admit it bothers the hell out of you."
She glared at him, seething.
"It bothers me," she complied snidely. "He raped me," she growled. "It's immaterial. He served his time. What do you suggest we do, hunt him down and execute him?"
"Want me to?" asked Gibbs coldly, narrowing his eyes.
She looked at him warily. He wasn't taking Howard's release any better than she was. She looked at him with a pale frown and pushed her hair back, her expression grim. Gibbs leaned forward and squeezed her thigh, tugging on her leg.
"C'mere," he coaxed.
Muttering to herself, Jenny shifted to her knees and crawled over, picking up the piece of paper she'd had under her hand. She ducked under his arm and stretched out at his side, placing her head right below his shoulder near his neck.
He wrapped an arm around her, rubbing her upper arm soothingly.
They sat in silence for a moment, and Gibbs looked down at the necklace that had fallen out of Jenny's shirt. He moved his hand and ran his thumb over the white-gold diamond ring, smirking. She wore it on a delicate silver chain around her neck, claiming she'd wear it on her left hand if she ever decided she actually wanted to marry him.
Jenny placed her crumpled piece of paper on his thigh and began stroking it with her fingers, smoothing it out.
He watched her for a minute and tilted his head back, searching for something to take her mind off Howard. He hated when that bastard was in her head. It hadn't gotten better since it had happened; it had gotten worse. Under all of the stress and chaos and depression of losing her job and struggling with the media, she'd started to remember the events of Howard's attack clearly, and now talking about him brought images instead of just detached knowledge.
Gibbs didn't want that tonight. He never wanted it, though he was determined to help her deal with it, but he knew it would be worse if they went there tonight and he wanted to prevent it early. He cleared his throat.
"Ziva's back," he said slowly, still rubbing her shoulder.
Jenny moved her head slowly, her neck arching as she looked up at him. Her eyebrows went up.
"Are things official?" she asked hesitantly.
Gibbs nodded.
"She filled out her final paperwork at NCIS," he said gruffly. "Takes her Citizenship oath in three days," he added.
Jenny laughed, her eyes lighting up for a moment.
"How's Tony taking it?" she asked wryly, wrinkling her nose.
Gibbs snorted.
"You mean living with her?" he asked. "Hell if I know, Jen," he said, smirking.
Jenny snorted, and sat up a little, putting her elbow on the couch cushions and drawing her knees up. She placed her legs over Gibbs' lap and her hand on his bicep, massaging gently with her knuckles.
Her brow furrowed.
"He's out of his mind," she said, snickering.
"Yeah," agreed Gibbs in a drawl.
The first sign of that had been DiNozzo's skipping off to Israel for a visit about a year after Vance terminated Ziva's position, and coming back with a wedding ring and a half-concocted plan to reinstate her at NCIS.
Post-NCIS, Ziva had butted heads with not only her father but also everyone at Mossad. She had requested her position back but was denied; Vance already had a Mossad connection through his relationship with Eli David.
So Tony found another way. He had been in a grueling process to help ram through Ziva's application for U.S. citizenship when he'd come back from Israel a third time with a catalyst for the process—he'd knocked her up.
"Did she have the baby at NCIS?" Jenny ventured.
Gibbs turned his head and met her eyes.
"Nah," he shook his head. "Too little. She left 'im with DiNozzo."
"Why would she do that?" asked Jenny seriously, deadpan. Gibbs shrugged; looking as if he thought the idea was just as boneheaded.
"The kid has a weird name," growled Gibbs.
Jenny furrowed her brow, glaring at him. She swatted his bicep.
"Chaim?" she said. "It's Hebrew, Jethro," she murmured, admonishing him. "As if DiNozzo would do any better," she said primly. "Ziva says he tried to name him Magnum."
"Don't think Chaim Magnum has a nice ring to it?"
"Jethro, the baby's middle name is Anthony."
"That's arrogant," Gibbs pointed out bluntly.
Jenny snorted.
"I think it's a family thing," she whispered conspiratorially, inching closer to him. "I want to see the baby," she pouted, closing her eyes. He was still playing with the ring on her necklace, and he looked down at the paper she was still fiddling with.
"Looks like everyone else's baby," he said with a shrug.
Jenny swatted him again. She frowned, nipping his bicep playfully. He reached from her neck to her hand and stopped her playing with the three-year-old tattered piece of paper, holding it up between his fingers. He eyed it guardedly, looking down at her with an arched eyebrow.
He saw it all the time. She really did use the damn thing as a bookmark. Sometimes she left it lying by the bedside lamp. Sometimes she put it in a drawer with the diamond ring, if she was going to work out.
"You could just put the ring on," he growled pointedly, waving the paper as if it were nothing.
She reached up and closed her hand over his.
"Jethro," she said softly. "I'm never putting the ring on," she said again. She refused to marry him. That was something he wanted, and why? She didn't know. But he wanted it like she occasionally still wanted him to tell her out loud, in English, that he loved her.
And you can't always get what you want.
She delicately took the scrap from him.
"You know I'll be reading this long after you're gone," she teased, sizing him up as if he might keel over.
He glared at her, annoyed at her jabs about him being old.
He pointed flippantly at the paper.
"Frame that, then." he growled.
She laughed, tilting her head back in disbelief.
"Jesus, Jethro, if you can't say these words, you sure as hell don't want me to hang them on the mantle!" she mocked, straightening up.
Her hair fell forward and she bit her lip, narrowing her eyes as she held up the scrap and eyed the faded sharpie-black words, remembering a flash of the tense, frustrating night he'd pinned her against the wall and written them right above her head.
Jen,
I love you. I don't want you to go.
Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
He grabbed her hand and pushed it down, crunching up the paper and lunging forward to kiss her senseless. It was very dramatic; he hugged her thighs to his middle and tangled his hand in her hair. Jenny shrieked, her mind taken completely off Howard, and all of the stress that had come with that. The diamond ring felt warm against her chest.
"Boss!"
It took Gibbs a minute to stop kissing Jenny, which meant Tony DiNozzo walked right in on his boss and the former Director being silly on the living room floor.
"Oh, hey, sorry Boss," he said loudly, clearly unconcerned. He slammed the door behind him and bounded into the living room, ignoring the aggressive glare he was receiving from both parties.
Instead, he beamed; looking tired but proud, and held up a blue and white infant's car seat.
"Look what I got," he announced smugly, presenting the wide-awake three-week-old baby to Jenny and Gibbs.
Jenny raised her eyebrows.
"The next generation of NCIS," she teased fondly, sitting forward as Tony set the car seat down on the floor in front of them. The baby was asleep. Jenny gently began undoing his little seatbelt straps. "Ziva behind you?" Jenny asked absently, picking up the baby and leaning back.
Gibbs leaned over and peered at Tony's son, cupping the crown of his head.
DiNozzo, still looking smug and quite proud of him, shook his head.
"She's asleep at home. She said I could wait until tomorrow to show you guys, but I didn't want to—check him out, Boss, he looks like me," Tony said, leaning forward.
"I can't believe she let you drive him anywhere," Jenny muttered protectively.
"She didn't," Tony said absently. "I figured I could show 'im off and then get 'im back before she wakes up."
Gibbs started to stand, glaring at DiNozzo. Jenny looked shocked.
"You stole the baby?" she gasped, her eyes widening in horror.
"What? No. I didn't steal him; he's mine!" protested Tony, looking frightened.
"DiNozzo!" barked Gibbs, staring down his idiot agent.
"Tony, if she wakes up she'll panic," Jenny said, looking down at Ziva's baby. Gibbs grabbed his phone, dialing the number of Tony's apartment.
DiNozzo seemed to realize what would happen if Ziva did wake up and find the baby gone.
There would be no chance of more babies when she was done with him.
He reached out to Jenny.
"Give him back, I have to go," he said desperately.
Jenny held the baby close.
"No, he's cheering me up," she said, looking at Gibbs for help.
Gibbs smacked DiNozzo in the back of the head.
Ziva answered the phone shouting.
"Gibbs! I moved to America so no one would kidnap my baby! Is he there? PUT HIM ON THE PHONE GIBBS I AM GOING TO KILL HIM!"
Gibbs thrust the phone at DiNozzo and turned back to Jenny, crouching down as he watched her look at the baby silently. He tilted his head and smirked at her, jerking a thumb at DiNozzo as the guilty-looking agent was chewed out by his wife.
"We're a good influence," he said smugly.
Jenny hit him, arching an eyebrow.
She and Gibbs were a dysfunctional mess to all bystanders and onlookers, an unstable relationship held together by a crumpled piece of paper and an expensive diamond on a chain—but as an insider she understood, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that there was no other way it would work.
There is a tag to Shadow that follows, which takes place between the Epilogue and the end of Chapter 9. It will be posted next week, once my semester ends.
I certainly hope you've enjoyed this, and I appreciate every single review you've left. Until next time, then!
-Alexandra