A/N: Now, we draw TOH to a close. I hope I wrapped it up acceptably. I think I'm sticking to drabbles/one-shots from now on. M: I GOT IT UP BEFORE WEDNESDAY. ( Ha, that's what she said. I love being immature. )

You're not supposed to fall in love with them; how had he expected it to end, anyhow? Jen was a prideful woman, one that hardly appreciated discovering she'd had the wool pulled over her eyes. Her reaction was natural. As a day passed – two, three, a week, more – his hopes that she might call began to fade. His previously neglected boat became the focus of his attention again. He avoided his bedroom, because though she hadn't been over much, Gibbs felt that he could still smell her shampoo on his pillows and sheets. But when he ran out of things to do with the boat without making a run to the hardware store ( which was certainly closed at two in the morning ), he ventured upstairs to change and get some sleep.

Her scent didn't linger in the air, on the linens: there were none of her clothes scattered on the floor, no physical evidence she or Leena had even existed. Had they?

He splashed water on his face after he changed, rubbing his scruff after he dried his face. Glancing at himself in the mirror, something shiny, delicate, caught his eye. On the corner of his mirror hung Jen's necklace – the one Danny had given her.

"Do you believe in angels, Jethro?"

"No."

The first night they'd made love hit him full force. His jaw tightened as he remembered her smile, the softness of her skin, the noises she'd made.

"It would be easy for me to fall for you, Jethro."

But never had she once said that she loved him. He had told her, and she'd brushed it off. Bitterness coursed through him as he gripped the necklace tightly in his left hand. For the briefest moment, he was tempted to drop it in the trash.

Then he remembered how much it meant to her, how much Danny had meant to her. Maybe it wasn't her fault she couldn't say it back. His mind whirled and he closed his eyes, lessening his grip on the delicate gold chain. He slipped it back over the edge of the mirror and flicked the light switch off, crawling into bed.

Gibbs missed her. He missed her warmth, her laugh, her kiss – every imaginable cliché one could think of. He missed Leena, and the fiery ignorance that encompassed her.

He didn't sleep that night either.

Life moved on without Jethro, just as it had without Danny. She was beginning to remember how to repress the past and simply focus on the present. Leena made it that much easier in the beginning – half an hour after Gibbs had slammed her front door, her little girl had crawled into bed with her, upset over a nightmare. She lessened the hurt as much as she brought it to the surface. A four-year-old didn't understand, didn't know how she pained her mother when she bombarded her with questions about when he would be back.

"Gibbs isn't coming back, Leena."

The look in the child's eyes was far more hurt than she could have expected. Leena had never dealt with loss before, as she had. She didn't know how to push things like that to the back of her mind. She really had loved the man.

She sat at the kitchen, book open and glasses on – but not reading. Her hair was falling out of the haphazard bun she'd slopped it into. Her coffee was cold.

Jen reached up for her necklace, and touched bare skin. She straightened stiffly, feeling again, a little more desperately. It was gone. A slight fit of panic rushed through her, and she half-ran upstairs to search her room. She paused as she closed her jewelry box, biting her lip softly.

"Dammit, Jethro," she mumbled, leaning back against her dresser. She scanned her room. Before the search it had been a mess – now it was worse. Dirty laundry littered the floor, the empty side of her unmade bed. One had to navigate carefully to keep from stepping on a toy.

Jennifer Shepard wasn't going to work today.

She spent the morning cleaning her bedroom and bathroom, and picking up the death-trap of a staircase. She found Gibbs' duffel bag stowed under her bed and winced, setting it atop her bare mattress. She stared at it for a moment, fingering his old NIS t-shirt for a moment. She threw the clothes in the washer when she got her sheets out, and then curled up in the center of her bed.

"This is your fault, Daniel," she grumbled. "If you weren't such an idiot, we'd have six kids and a Golden Retriever puppy." Jen pulled a pillow to her chest, biting her lip hard to keep from crying again. "That's how it was supposed to be."

She didn't know if she was upset about Danny or Jethro. She didn't know if she felt worse for Leena or for herself. But she was permitting herself one pity party, because at least she'd gotten something useful done today.

Jethro would get his laundry back later that night, and she'd get her necklace. Then the two of them would be done, and she'd never, ever go on another date again.

Men had disappointed her enough in her life.

After a third unanswered knock, Jen was about to turn and go back to her car. Gibbs obviously didn't want to see her. But the necklace... She twisted the doorknob, blinking when it turned. She stepped inside and glanced around the house, dimly illuminated by the muted television. There was a faint light coming from under the basement door. She should've known.

Down those stairs was almost as much of a death-trap in heels as her own staircase had been that morning. Jen felt him staring at her, through her, even. She set the bag on the stool before she glanced up at him.

"It's dangerous, you know. To leave your door unlocked like that."

He shrugged a shoulder, setting the sander down and leaning against one of the unfinished ribs of the boat. His eyes never left her face, and her palms began to sweat slightly. That gaze was unnerving as it was sexy – she'd never seen eyes like those in her entire life. She tapped her fingers against his bag and he stepped forward, unzipping it. He glanced at the neatly folded clothes for a moment; even through the sawdust and bourbon, the smell that he associated with Jenny and her home touched his nostrils. He glanced up at her again. "I was comin' to see you tomorrow," he mumbled. He nodded to her necklace, hanging safely on a peg where his hammer was usually kept. "Thought you might be missin' that."

"Thank you," she murmured softly, fastening it around her neck securely. It settled between her breasts comfortably, and she couldn't help but notice that his eyes were glued to it. She cleared her throat softly. "Jethro."

He glanced up at her quickly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Jen didn't want to leave. She wanted to apologize to him, make him hold her like he had before.

Gibbs turned back to his boat, nailing with renewed vigor. She winced and covered her mouth with her hand, biting her lip again. "Jethro," she called once, twice, louder the third time.

He finally looked up at her; her nails dug into her palm slightly. "You told Morrow I was with you. That night I-"

"Yeah," he cut her off, not wanting to hear her say it. "I did."

"Thank you." He barely heard it, but he knew it was sincere. He nodded his head once, turning around again.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, louder than she'd meant to, because she was afraid he wouldn't be able to hear her when he started hammering, and she wouldn't have the guts to say it again. "For yelling at you.. and.."

"And?" he questioned after a long silence. His spine was stiff again.

"And.. Leena misses you." She swallowed hard. "You mean a lot to her."

Gibbs grunted, noncommittal. What was he supposed to say? He felt her step closer, felt that warmth that he'd missed. Her hand touched his shoulder gently, the other took the hammer from him and laid it on top of the finished portion of the boat.

"I miss you," she whispered quietly; her grip on his shoulder tightened and she bit her lip hard.

It was her way of asking him back. Their damn pride would be the death of them. He turned, leaning against the boat again. She stepped between his legs, splaying her hand against his chest for a moment. Jen bunched the material into her fist. "Remember what you said, in the street?" she questioned softly. Her green eyes met his and he nodded once. She studied his face for a moment, reaching up to run her hand over his cheek and scruff softly.

"Me too."

He debated for a moment; whether it was smart to get into this again. He leaned down, giving her time to see it coming. She met his eyes as his lips touched hers, coaxing her into one of those languid kisses that lasted forever. Jen tightened her grip on his shirt, shifting more into him, eyes fluttering closed. Gibbs slipped his hands into her back pockets and pressed her more into him.

She gasped slightly as she pulled back, biting her lip again. She looked guilty. "Leena.. I can't leave her any longer than I already have. She might be asleep, but.."

"Can I come with you?"

Jen brightened at that, stepping back and grabbing his bag from the stool. "I don't know what you would wear," she drawled sarcastically. He raised an eyebrow mildly.

"Nothing," he grunted bluntly. She snickered to herself, crooking her finger at him.

"Let's go. We'll talk later."

He didn't feel quite like he was fighting with ghosts any more. Jen and Leena weren't Shannon and Kelly. He felt that, with her 'me too' admission, he wasn't battling so heavily with Danny. Like she'd made some sort of peace in the past weeks they'd been apart.

It wouldn't be easy – he never expected it to be. But he was excited to see one little bouncy redhead. One that looked so much like her mother, that was allergic to peanut butter, and loved to interrupt intimate moments between he and said mother.

The two redheads had his heart – and that was fine with him.

El fin. :3