A/N: Hope you enjoy the latest installment! In which Gibbs goes to the ballet, Jenny messes up majorly, and Ducky is tasked with keeping watch.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was bored out of his mind. Though he'd given it an honest try, he simply couldn't make sense of the "story" these dancers were trying to tell, and watching someone prance around a stage in extremely form-fitting tights wasn't his idea of a fun night. But none of that mattered, because he wasn't here for his own enjoyment. The look of amazement in Jenny's green eyes was enough to make him sit quietly for hours, merely watching her as she followed the ballet with rapt attention. It was worth the crowd, the money he'd spent, the boredom...it was worth everything when he'd seen her smile.

As the final curtain went down, Gibbs reached silently for her hand, bringing it to his lips in a gentle kiss, and she gave him a wide-eyed look as she turned in her seat.

"I fully expected you to be asleep."

He rolled his eyes, and when the lights came up, he stood, offering her his hand. Her fingers closed around his, and when his free hand came to rest on the small of her back, she laid her head on his shoulder, looking at him with an expression that he was having difficulty identifying.

"Thank you, Jethro. I know ballet isn't your thing, but it means so much to me that you did this for me."

He smiled, stepping out into the lobby of the theatre, and when he heard someone call his name, he frowned.

"Jethro! Jennifer!"

The smile that came across Jenny's face as she saw Ducky walking towards them was brighter than the lights in the room, and Gibbs nodded in his direction.

"Ducky! What are you doing here?" Jenny asked, her voice warm.

"I always make it a point to go to the ballet at least once a year. My hat is off to you though, my dear Jennifer. Never would I have imagined that anyone would be able to convince Jethro to come within twenty kilometers of a theatre."

Jenny laughed quietly, and though Gibbs knew she was happy to see the doctor, he could tell that she wanted to leave. She was only half-listening to Ducky as he spoke, and when he realised this, he frowned, looking at her curiously.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded slowly, but even the most casual observer would have seen that her heart wasn't in it. The older man reached for her hand and Gibbs took the hint, excusing himself to go bring their car around front. They had opted to drive Jenny's that night, not wanting it to fall into disuse, and as Ducky pulled her to an empty corner of the room, he met her eyes seriously.

"Jennifer...what's wrong, my dear?"

She shook her head, raising her eyes to the ceiling and the doctor saw the action for what it was, pulling her into a hug at once.

"Whatever it is, just know that you're not alone," he said quietly.

"That's just it, Ducky. I don't know what it is. Nothing disastrous has happened, hell...I even managed to get Jethro to come see a ballet with me. I should be happy. I should be genuinely laughing, smiling...not faking it for ninety percent of my day. I mean, what's wrong with me? Why am I always so messed up?"

He kissed her cheek as he stepped back, and when she refused to meet his eyes, he tilted her head up with his hand.

"You're not messed up. You've been through so much since last year, and anyone in your position would undoubtedly be faring much worse than you are. That alone is a testament to your strength, your resilience, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. Have you spoken to Jethro about this?"

Jenny said nothing, and her silence told him all that he needed to know. He could see Gibbs standing just inside the doorway, waiting patiently (or perhaps impatiently) for them to finish their conversation, and as Ducky hooked her arm through his, he gave the younger woman a gentle smile.

"Talk to him. That man loves you more than anything else in the universe. Discuss this with Dr. Lentz. He can check the dosages of your medication, and adjust them as needed. You are taking them, correct?"

Nodding, Jenny sighed before painting a smile on her face. Gibbs returned it carefully, but when his eyes met Ducky's over her shoulder, the doctor shook his head minutely. Understanding filled the former marine's eyes and as Jenny waved goodbye, Gibbs carefully wrapped his arm around her waist.

"You okay?"

She nodded, but as soon as he'd helped her into the car and gotten his own safety belt hooked, he looked at her as though he thought she were stupid.

"The truth, Jen."

The redhead was silent for so long that Gibbs at first thought she hadn't heard him, and he was just about to put the car in gear when her quiet voice halted his movements.

"I wish I was dead."

He froze, looking at her with such horror that she immediately wished she could take the words back, and it took him longer than he would ever admit to realise she was waiting for him to speak.

"You don't mean that," he said finally, his voice strained.

Still, she said nothing, and he pulled the keys from the ignition, refusing to even think of leaving until they'd finished their conversation.

"Do you?"

He took her hand in his, the action enough to make her eyes flicker to his momentarily, but it was enough. The pain was so strong in her eyes that he could almost touch it, and he shook his head slowly.

"Jen...talk to me. Please."

She shook her head, and he frowned, holding her hand tighter without even realising it.

"No what? No, you don't mean it, or no, you won't talk to me?"

"I don't know how to explain it. There's so much going on in my head, and only about ten percent of it makes sense. How can I talk to you about it when I don't understand it myself?"

"Maybe I can give a new perspective. Help you sort it out. I'm not an investigator for nothing, Director."

She smiled softly, then nodded in the direction of the steering wheel.

"Do you really want to have this conversation in the car?"

He nodded, his eyes refusing to leave hers.

"I'm not going anywhere until we finish this. I'm not letting you off that easily. If I give you enough time, you'll end up talking your way out of it, and I don't like being lied to. We made a promise to be honest with each other, and that doesn't go away just because it's difficult."

Though she would have normally been embarrassed that he knew her so well, Jenny merely nodded, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. She took a deep breath, and nodded again, trying to find the words she needed.

"It's been so hard...even before Matthew, before Carrington, before the accident. My entire life, I've been told that I was too much. Too dramatic, too serious, too obsessive, too much of a perfectionist. I learned early on that if I wanted to be left alone, I needed to hide all of that. Be whatever people expected me to be. I could be having a major panic attack in my head, my heart racing, fighting to remember how to breathe, but on the outside, I was fine. I perfected the act of not drawing attention to it. Of hiding it. Of pretending that everything was okay when I was screaming inside."

She paused, still fidgeting with her hands, and Gibbs reached out to cover them with his own. She frowned, not even realising that she'd been doing it, and he waited, knowing she hadn't finished.

"I thought everyone was like that. It didn't even occur to me that something was wrong. That I was wrong. I would always eventually break through the bad times, and then I was so deliriously happy that I'd forgotten what it was like in the darkness. I never talked about it, though. It was just something that happened, a part of life. Then one day, I heard this song...this heartbreaking, hauntingly beautiful song coming from Heather's room. It was the piano that caught my attention, and I asked her what it was. She handed me the album, and I borrowed it. I played it for days. The entire album, over and over, until my father threatened to take the turntable away from me. I was obsessed with it. I memorised every note, every word of every song. I was twenty-one, and for the first time in my life, I felt like someone had read my mind, like I was really understood. I dragged an old boyfriend to her concert as soon as the doors opened, and I cried the entire time. I saved up all the money I had after that night to buy a piano, but I eventually stopped playing when I realised I would never be as good as that girl was. She was only eight years older than me, but she had this wisdom about her, and to this day, I've never related to an artist as much as I did to her."

Gibbs nodded, still holding her hands to keep them still, though he could feel them shaking beneath his fingers.

"What was the song?" he asked quietly.

Jenny smiled, looking at him seriously.

"Silent All These Years by Tori Amos. I own every album she's ever made, and I watched every interview I could find on her before the internet made it so easily accessible. Even as a child, I hyper-fixated on things. For years, it was Stevie Nicks. I knew everything about her, I wanted to be her, listened to nothing else for the better part of a solid year. Then it was David Bowie. My best friend would always start a new school year with "Hey Jenny, who's your obsession this year?" and I would tell her. She never judged me, knew that it would eventually pass and I would listen to other music like a normal person, but she also knew how my mind operated. It was Stevie or nothing. Bowie or nothing. Tori Amos or nothing."

"Director's chair or nothing?" Gibbs asked with a smile.

Laughing quietly, she finally nodded, and met his eyes seriously.

"You or nothing."

He squeezed her hand gently, and gave her an encouraging smile.

"Go on, Jen."

"Anyway, getting that diagnosis of bipolar disorder...it made so much sense. Everything fell into place. But now I don't know what's real and what isn't. How do I know if my emotional response to something isn't just my chemically imbalanced brain blowing it out of proportion? What's left if you stabilize it and I lose that feeling of rapture that I had when I first heard that Tori Amos song? What if I never feel that happiness again? Who am I if you take away something that has defined me for my entire life?"

"Jen...you're still the same person. Just less likely to get yourself killed. The person behind the illness is still you, just less panicked. Those panic attacks may never completely go away, but you won't be so thrown by change anymore. You'll be able to breathe easier, probably sleep more soundly, and it won't always have to be all or nothing. You can finally have an "okay" day. You can finally learn the true definition of moderation. Your pain will still hurt, but it won't consume you. You won't make a rash decision and regret it later."

"I don't really want to die," she whispered, "I just want the pain to stop. Being dead would be better than this, Jethro."

"See, that's where you're wrong. There's so much that you would miss out on if that happened. What about McGee and Beth's baby? What about getting to know Heather again? What about our wedding? Taking your medication is the first step, and talking to Dr. Lentz is the second. If you can't talk to him, for whatever reason, I'm always here. I might not always know what to say, but I'll always listen. Your death would change the world in so many ways, and I don't think I could handle that. Please don't make me test that theory."

Unhooking her seat belt, Jenny threw her arms around his neck, burying her head in his shoulder, and her eyes closed tightly against the tears she could feel burning in them.

"I love you," she whispered, "and I'm so fucking sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for, Jen. Emotion is what makes you human. Never apologise for having them."

He kissed her as he pulled away, and gave her a warm smile as he waited for her to fasten her belt again.

"I love you too, Jen. No matter how insane you are."

She rolled her eyes jokingly, and nodded at him once.

"Can we go home now?"

"Definitely."

Though she still felt that crushing weight in her chest, for the first time, Jenny didn't feel as though she were going to suffocate beneath it.

Gibbs frowned at the ringing of his phone not even fifteen minutes after he and Jenny returned home from the ballet, and as she disappeared to take a shower, he answered it slowly.

"Yeah. Gibbs."

"Um...boss, I know it's late, and this isn't something I would normally do, but I really need to talk to you."

He shook his head, suddenly unsure of how he'd managed to find himself in the role of therapist again tonight.

"McGee?"

"Yeah. I don't know if you already know, but...Beth's pregnant. She told me yesterday, and I'm...boss, what do I do?"

Gibbs smiled at the younger man's nervousness, and made his way down to the basement, closing the door quietly.

"You love her?"

"Of course. But...I don't know if I'm ready to...I can't be a dad. I don't...what if I mess things up? What if the baby does nothing but cry? What if it hates me?"

Fighting the urge to laugh, Gibbs poured himself a mason jar of bourbon, and as he began searching for his wood stain, he took a breath to collect his thoughts.

"Listen, McGee...you're going to be fine. It's normal to feel like that at first, and I've got news for you: the baby will cry. That's what they do. Don't start talking for a year or so. But I promise you, your child won't hate you. You'll be just fine."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and Gibbs took a long drink from his glass, waiting for McGee to speak again.

"You think so?"

"Let me tell you something, Tim. When the Director first told me she was pregnant, I went through the same thoughts you did. Everyone does. Beth's probably feeling just as overwhelmed as you are. Sit down. Take a breath. And then tell her. Both of you need to discuss this, and everything will work out just fine."

"You did? But boss, you're great with kids."

"Yeah, but they're still terrifying," Gibbs said with a quiet laugh, "Trust me. You're going to be a great father."

McGee breathed a sigh of relief, and as he thanked the team leader one more time, Gibbs downed the last of his drink and reached for the bottle, pouring another. He was secretly touched that the younger man had called him for advice, not that he would ever admit as much, and when they ended their conversation less than a minute later, he kept his phone in his hand. For all of his claims to the contrary, he was glad Jenny had finally convinced him to invest in a more modern phone, because it made his plans much easier now. Pulling open the music app, he frowned as he tried to remember the name of the song Jenny had told him about, and as he typed in the artist's name, he smiled when it popped up on the first try. He pressed play, and as the soft piano music filled the room, he sat down on the work stool, taking a long drink.

He was so caught up in the words of the song that he didn't notice the door open, and as Jenny crept quietly down the stairs, she froze as she recognised the familiar music. She sat down on the steps, careful not to make any noise, not even caring about the tears that filled her eyes. Music had always had a profound effect on her, just as painting had, and both were art forms that she'd turned to in her youth when she'd been overwhelmed by even the smallest of things.

He clicked another song, and as the opening notes fell from his phone, Jenny shook her head, her tears blurring her vision.

"Not that one," she said quietly, her voice thick, "Please."

He turned, frowning when he noticed her on the stairs, and the tears falling from her eyes made him stand slowly.

"What's wrong?"

"It's...she wrote that song for her father. I haven't been able to listen to it since my—since—"

Gibbs nodded, making his way closer, and when she moved enough that he could sit next to her, he placed his hand on her knee.

"Would it help if you weren't alone?"

Thinking for a moment, Jenny considered his question carefully. It had always been her favourite track on the album, and if she were honest, she'd missed hearing it. Still, she didn't know if she were strong enough to handle it, and he took her hand, running his fingers over her skin gently.

"I'm right here."

Finally, Jenny nodded, and he started the song from the beginning, never once releasing his hold on her hand. As he listened to the song, he understood why it had been so difficult for her to hear, and he felt his own tears well in his eyes as he thought of Kelly...would she have felt the same way about the song if she'd lived? He'd never listened to anything like this woman before, but even he couldn't deny her way with words, the pure beauty of her voice, and the chorus of the song was so like the things he'd once said to his baby girl that it hurt.

The song came to a heartbreaking end, Jenny crying harder than he'd expected, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her as close as their current position would allow. He kissed her hair gently, breathing in the scent of her perfume, and she buried her head into his chest, tears soaking the fabric of his shirt.

"I'm right here, Jen...it's okay."

She shook her head, wanting him to understand.

"No, I...it still hurt, but...Jethro, you gave me that song back. I'd forgotten how much I loved it, how beautiful it really is."

He nodded, kissing her hair again.

"She's very talented."

Jenny wiped her tears, a sudden thought occurring to her, and she raised up in confusion.

"Jethro...why were you listening to Tori Amos down here in your basement?"

He shrugged.

"You said you related to the song. Wanted to know why."

"Why did you listen to "Winter", though? That wasn't one I told you about."

"I liked what I heard," he answered simply.

It was so honest, so purely Gibbs that it made Jenny burst into laughter, causing him to stare at her as though she'd lost her mind.

"What?"

She merely shook her head, gently nudging his knee with her own, and when she stood suddenly, he frowned. Jenny held out her hand, and he took it, allowing her to pull him up the steps, the confusion in his eyes saying more than words ever could.

"Jen, what—"

"I have a request."

"Name it," he said seriously.

He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he couldn't refuse her anything, and as they neared the first floor, she turned. Her head was laying on his chest as she stood in front of him, and he instinctively ran his fingers through the long red strands.

"Jethro?"

"Hm?"

"I know it's early...for you, anyway. But...would you come up with me?"

He nodded, and as they entered the bedroom, Aries glanced up from his bed, his eyes following them curiously. Jenny laid on the mattress slowly, and when he joined her moments later, he leaned down to kiss her, slightly confused when she made no move to deepen it. He didn't question her however, figuring that she was emotionally spent, and he reached for the lamp on the table, clicking it off silently.

"Jethro?"

Her voice was quiet in the darkness, but he still heard her, and he turned to look at her, her eyes meeting his easily.

"Thank you. For tonight. For every night, really."

He smiled as he kissed her again, and when her hands trailed over his chest, he noticed that she was shaking slightly.

"Jen?"

She shook her head, not answering his unspoken question, and he frowned.

"Just hold me, Jethro," she whispered, moving closer to his warmth.

He pulled her into his arms, kissing her hair as she laid her head on his chest, and though she hadn't said as much, he could feel the sadness radiating from her body as clearly as he could feel the chill in the air. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep, but when he finally closed his own eyes hours later, he was still troubled by trying to figure out what had caused her to mood to shift so drastically. As it turned out, he would learn soon enough, and that knowledge would break his heart more than he'd thought possible.

Jenny tossed back the pills that Gibbs had carefully counted out for her, and after he'd checked to make sure that she'd actually swallowed them, she gave him a smile. She'd been feeling a bit down since the night before, and it was beginning to get on her nerves, but she said nothing as he left the room to start brewing coffee. She picked up the bottle of Wellbutrin sitting on the bathroom sink as she walked in to begin applying her makeup, and she rolled her eyes at the shaking of her hands.

She read the directions on the label of the bottle, and frowned as she set it back down. Take as directed to stabilize mood. Simple enough, and her mood had definitely been leaning towards unstable lately. She applied her eyeliner quickly, trying to ignore the thoughts in her head, and as she reached for her eye shadow, she realised there were tears in her eyes. Jenny angrily shook her head, unsure of why she was crying, and she grabbed the pill bottle again, desperately twisting off the top. Two pills fell into her hand and she threw them to the back of her throat, not even stopping to consider the consequences. After all, her mood was nowhere near stable, so surely taking a few extra pills would speed up the process...right?

She finished applying her makeup, and by the time she'd dressed, she was beginning to wonder if perhaps she'd made a mistake. She still felt fine, but she hadn't even thought about the potential side effects of her increasing the dosage of her medication. Shrugging it off, Jenny made her way down the stairs, trying desperately to ignore the black spots that danced in front of her vision. She found her way through the living room without issue, but as soon as she neared the kitchen doorway, she stumbled, cracking her hip on the wall painfully.

"Shit," she whispered.

"Jen? You okay?"

She barely heard him, the words distorted and echoing in her ears, but she still had enough presence of mind to nod. Gibbs turned to look at her, eyes widening slightly at her ghostly white skin, and when he noticed that she was clinging to the wall in an attempt to stay upright, he frowned.

"What is it?"

She hit the ground before he knew what had happened, catching herself on her hands and knees, and when his coffee mug fell from his hand, he didn't even notice that it shattered on the floor. He knelt in front of her, brushing her hair out of her face, and when he noticed that she was fighting for even the smallest breath, he brought his fingers to the side of her neck, feeling her pulse. It was alarmingly fast, and he looked at her seriously, tilting her head back to see her eyes.

"Jen, can you hear me?"

She nodded slowly, and he sighed. That, at least, was a good thing.

"I d-didn't think it would m-make much d-difference," she whispered breathlessly.

"What? Didn't think what would? Jen, what did you do?"

"I j-just wanted to t-take the e-edge off," she gasped, her head falling forward onto his shoulder.

"Jen. Jenny, stay with me. What happened? Did you take something?"

She didn't answer, and he tapped her cheek with the back of his hand, fighting to keep his panic down.

"Jenny! What did you take?"

"W-wellbutrin," she said finally, her voice so soft he almost missed it, "T-two extra."

He swore harshly, standing up quickly and sweeping her up into his arms, running for the front door. He threw her as carefully as he could into the cab of his truck, and as he put the vehicle in gear, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Her eyes were closed, her body collapsed in the seat, but he was thankful that he could make out the rise and fall of her chest as she took shallow breaths. He was fighting to keep his own panic under control as he sped through the dark streets, and when he heard her whisper his name, he turned his attention to her, his blue eyes locking on her glazed green.

"I'm sorry. I d-didn't mean t—"

"Shh...I know. It's okay."

His words were calm, but his mind was racing a million miles a minute as he tried to focus on his task. What was he going to do if he didn't make it in time?

He needn't have worried, having made it in record time, after breaking nearly traffic law in his haste. After he'd explained the situation to the attending nurse, they had rushed Jenny into a room, and as he sank down into the chair of the waiting room, his phone began to ring. He barely heard it, and when he finally realised what the sound was, he pulled it from his pocket, staring at it numbly for a long moment.

"Yeah. Gibbs."

"Jethro, it's 07:30 and neither you nor Jennifer is in the office. Are you taking a personal day?"

He sighed, shaking his head slowly.

"Sort of."

"Sort of? Is everything alright?"

"Jenny's having her stomach pumped right now. She's a bit busy."

Now that the initial shock was beginning to wear off, it was giving way to blazing anger, and it was so evident in his voice that he knew Ducky noticed it.

"Pardon? What do you mean Jennifer's having her stomach pumped? What happened?"

Gibbs sighed, his head falling into his hand.

"Our genius Director had the brilliant idea to take almost triple her dosage of Wellbutrin. She went from not taking it at all to overdosing. She's damn lucky she didn't kill herself."

"Jethro, I know you're angry, and rightfully so, but you need to understand that this is common in bipolar individuals. They swing from one extreme to the next."

"And I'm supposed to just let it happen? If she hadn't collapsed in the kitchen, she'd be dead. I can't always be there to watch her. She's not a child, and I'm not her babysitter. She's a damn adult, it's time she acted like it."

He hung up, too angry to listen to Ducky's attempts at explaining her behaviour away, and though he was still concerned, he was also just downright furious. His head snapped up at the sound of someone saying his name, and he made his way to the front desk, his eyes hard.

"Sir, you're able to see your wife now."

Not bothering to correct her, Gibbs nodded, and after he'd gotten the room number from her, headed in the proper direction. The door was slightly ajar, and when he pushed it open, his eyes landed on Jenny, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at her hands. She looked up at the sound of the door closing, and it didn't escape his notice that her eyes were still hazy, though decidedly clearer than before.

"Jethro, I—"

He shook his head, cutting off her words, and looked at her with a coldness she hadn't expected, but couldn't deny that she deserved.

"You can't keep doing this. I'm not your watchdog, and if you won't even attempt to get this under control, then this isn't going to work. I know it isn't your fault that you're sick, but you have to meet me halfway. Show me that you actually give a damn. I'm not going to just sit back and watch you kill yourself or end up institutionalised. Make your choice, Jen. Decide what's really important to you, because I'm not going to try to guess. Are we clear?"

She nodded silently, no longer looking at him, and though there were a million questions running through her mind, she said nothing. After all, what could she possibly say that he didn't already know?

"You do understand that he has every right to be angry with you, correct?"

Jenny nodded in response to the question, and when Dr. Lentz met her eyes over the desk, he wasn't surprised to see tears in hers.

"Yes, I know," she said quietly, "I fucked up. Jethro won't even speak to me right now."

Dr. Lentz nodded, making a note in the file on his desk.

"Jenny, I'm not going to lie to you. What you did was extremely dangerous. Wellbutrin can be fatal if you take too much of it. I know you weren't trying to consciously commit suicide, but we do need to discuss this seriously. Did you stop to think about what could happen?"

"No. I just thought...I'd been really depressed for the past few days, and I thought taking it would help. I mean, I told Jethro the night before that I wished I was dead, but I meant it as—"

"Wait. Hold on, Jenny. Go back. You told him that, and then the next day you took triple your dose of Wellbutrin?"

"Yes, but it's not like that," she said, trying to make him understand, "When I told Jethro that, I meant that if it made the pain stop, it would be worth it."

Dr. Lentz looked at her seriously, trying to determine his next course of action, and finally nodded.

"Have you ever heard of suicidal ideation, Jenny?"

At the answering shake of her head, he began writing in his file, leaving her to her thoughts for a moment before continuing.

"Suicidal ideation means that you have the recurring thought that you would be better off dead, or that death would be a relief from your current circumstances. Most people who experience this are not actively trying to end their life, but these thoughts cross their mind frequently. Does that sound familiar to you?"

The redhead nodded, and when she opened her mouth to speak, Dr. Lentz waited, his eyes carefully watching her. She was nervous, her hands twisting in her lap, and when she finally did speak, her voice was shaking slightly.

"How do I separate myself from the illness? How do I know if I'm the curse or the cure?"

"Jenny, you're always the cure. Bipolar is the curse, but we can manage this together. Coming to these sessions, taking your medication correctly, eating properly, drinking in careful moderation, sleeping...all of these things will help, and you can live a relatively normal life."

She shook her head, her hair spilling into her face, but she made no move to fix it.

"I can't trust myself. I don't even know if I can be left alone. Everything seems to be getting so much worse, and it scares me."

The doctor shifted in his chair, looking at her seriously, and when he nodded, she didn't see it through the curtain of her hair.

"It's okay to be scared, and I'm proud of you for recognising that being left on your own might not be a wise decision right now. Is there anyone you can call to stay with you, if you don't want to call Jethro?"

Though she knew calling Gibbs wasn't an option right now, she didn't want anyone else. But he was simply too angry with her, and she didn't want to do anything that might cause him to leave permanently.

"I might be able to call Ducky. Doctor Mallard, I mean."

He nodded again, and as Jenny pulled out her phone, she fought to keep her tears from falling. How had her life gotten so screwed up?

Gibbs had known that Jenny was giving him space, but it had still thrown him off when she'd opted to stay at her own house rather than his. She'd left Aries with him, furthering his suspicion that something was wrong, and as he took a long drink of his bourbon, he fought the urge to simply drive over to her house and demand that she explain. Ducky was staying with her that night, that much had been confided in him, and so it came as a huge shock when his phone began to ring merely two hours after he'd returned home.

"Yeah. Gibbs."

"I know you don't want to talk to me right now, but I wanted to say thanks for taking care of Aries tonight."

He frowned, more than a little confused.

"Jen?"

"Yeah. Anyway, I'll let you go. Goodnight, Jethro."

"Wait. Jen, where's Ducky?"

There was a slight pause, and when he heard her voice next, it was clear from her tone that she'd just swallowed something.

"In the kitchen. I told him I needed to make a call. He hasn't left, don't worry."

Something about her voice was different, changing with every word she spoke, and when he realised what it was, he frowned.

"Are you drunk?"

"No, I'm a little buzzed, but not drunk. I just...Ducky wanted me to talk to him, and I couldn't do that sober. Not if I wanted to get through it. He brought up Beth and McGee's baby."

"And? It's not a secret, you can talk about it. Especially to Ducky. He doesn't gossip."

Jenny hesitated, and he ran his hand through his hair slowly. What was she doing? What was she thinking?

"No, I can't. It isn't fair."

"What isn't?"

It suddenly hit him like a brick, just exactly what she meant, and he took a drink of his bourbon. Surely, he was wrong. She couldn't be...could she?

"Wait...you're upset about the baby. Aren't you? That's what's going on with you."

She laughed, but it was such a bitter sound that he saw the admission for what it was immediately.

"Of course not. Why would I be upset that Beth and McGee are going to be parents? That's great for them."

"But not us. Right?"

Silence.

"Jen, it's okay to be upset."

"I should be happy for them. Not resenting them for something they had no control over. But...it isn't fair...God, Jethro...it's just not fair!"

She was crying now, and he set his glass down, trying to think of the right thing to say. He was still undeniably furious with her, but he knew that anger was rooted in the fear of losing her, and he was beginning to worry that it would happen regardless of Ducky staying with her.

"What happened to Matthew wasn't fair. You're right. But that doesn't mean that you can't still be happy for Beth and McGee. You're allowed to feel that."

"I..." she paused, trying to calm down enough to speak, "Jethro, that's...I feel like I'm betraying his memory. I am happy for them, for their baby, but...I feel so guilty about it."

As much as he wished he didn't, Gibbs knew exactly how she felt, and he nodded to himself. He'd felt the same way about every relationship he'd had after Shannon and Kelly had died, and it had taken him years to understand that he could in fact love someone else while still honouring their memories.

"I get that. Believe me, I do. Do you know how long it was before I allowed myself to truly get close to another woman after Shannon? Let alone fall in love? It took me years before I figured that out, and do you know who made me realise that?"

She was silent, but he knew she was waiting for him to continue.

"It was you, Jen. You're the first and only woman I've loved since Shannon, and it took me nearly sixteen years to admit that. I kept you at arms length for years, even though I knew from the moment you told me you loved me in Paris that I felt the same way for you. I was too afraid to let you in, too guilty because I thought I was betraying my girls by loving you. It wasn't until you left and I almost lost you for good that I knew I was making the biggest mistake of my life if I didn't try. Don't feel guilty for being happy. And don't try to pretend that losing Matthew doesn't still hurt. Because it does. And it will, for the rest of our lives. But don't let it define you."

It never failed to shock her when Gibbs spoke more than a few words at a time, and this was no exception. Jenny took a deep breath, trying to find the words she needed to accurately communicate what she wanted him to know.

"I'm just so tired, Jethro. Of always being one extreme or the other. I just want two days of consistency, and I would kill to be genuinely happy for more than a brief moment. I'm either so depressed that I can't breathe, bouncing off the walls maniacally, or I'm numb. There is nothing else. I don't—Jethro, I don't know what to do anymore. It's like...I have this picture in my head of opening my skin with a really sharp blade, but it's like pulling down a zipper...and all of this putrid shit is just gone, pouring out like oil. It would be so easy, and—"

"Jen, where's Ducky?"

She was beginning to scare him now, and he knew he wouldn't be able to relax until he knew for certain that she wasn't alone.

"I told you, he's in—"

"Go get him, give him the phone."

"What?"

"Now."

Jenny sighed, and when he heard her open the door to her study, he slowly began to let go of the breath he'd been holding.

"Yes, Jethro? What is it?"

The older man's voice had never sounded so wonderful to him, and he relaxed his hold on the phone in his hand.

"Watch her. I mean it, Duck. Don't let her out of your sight."

"Certainly, but...what's wrong?"

"She's...she's scaring me. Can't explain it, but...just keep an eye on her. Please."

After getting Ducky's word that he wouldn't leave Jenny unattended, Gibbs reluctantly allowed him to give the phone back to the redhead, and he could hear the frustration in her voice as she spoke once more.

"Satisfied?"

"Yep. See you tomorrow."

"Okay. Good night, Jethro. I love you."

"I love you too, Jen."

Just by the way she sat behind her desk, Gibbs could tell that Jenny hadn't slept the night before. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot, dark circles beneath them, and her hair was pulled back into a loose uncharacteristic ponytail. She'd put very little effort into her appearance that morning, and he frowned as he closed her door behind him.

"Need your signature."

She nodded.

"Leave it on the desk."

He did as she asked, and she looked so defeated that he felt the vast majority of his anger leaving him as quickly as it had come. His eyes watched her for a long moment before he spoke and it didn't escape his notice that she once looked in his direction.

"You okay?"

Again, she nodded, and while he didn't believe her, he knew pushing her would only make the situation worse. He opted instead to turn and walk towards the door, his hand on the handle before she even took a breath.

"Jethro?"

He glanced at her to show that he was listening, and she sighed, her hands shaking as she tried to type a reply to an email.

"I've got enough guilt in me to start my own religion."

Though it was a strange way of wording it, he nodded. He knew exactly what she meant, and he would have been lying if he'd said he didn't feel it, too.

A/N: Poor Gibbs and Jenny...the songs mentioned in this chapter are as follows:
1. Silent All These Years-Tori Amos
2. Winter-Tori Amos

Seriously, her album Little Earthquakes changed my life. Give it a listen. You won't be disappointed.