She's placing the remaining dishes in the sink, deciding whether or not is was still too early to pour herself a drink when her phone buzzes, Gibbs name flashing across her screen almost mockingly so.
Part of her wants to decline the call and go on with her night, but she knows he would break down her door sooner than he would let her be.
"Shepard." She answers.
"Hey, Jen."
"Jethro."
"At your front door."
She huffs, "Twice in a week is a bit excessive."
"You wanna open the door or not?"
She actually didn't particularly want too, but it would be much more of a fight if she didn't.
"Fine."
Her eyes drift to the shelf stocked with liquor in her study when she passes, almost tempted to pour herself a glass before opening the door. But then, was it not alcohol that fueled their last interaction? Maybe, if her head was less cloudy that night she would have had the wherewithal to declare falling into bed a bad idea.
Later, she decides.
When she opens the door she can see the agents parking across her street, doing their best to act as inconspicuous as possible. The pessimist in her thinks its a futile effort. Perhaps to the untrained eye they don't look out of the ordinary, but to a trained agent it was easy to see what was happening. She suspects that any criminal worth their salt would see through it too.
"Got a paper trail," He says, brushing past her, "Well, half a paper trail."
"Yes, do come in Jethro." She says sarcastically, closing the door.
"One of the perps had a credit card on him, Stolen, according to McGee, but we traced it back to a rental company. Svetlana must have gone in herself and made the arrangements. Used a fake name, but we were able to get a description of what she looks like."
"Trail end there?" Jenny questions.
Gibbs nods, "Yeah. Left a phone number too, but the line is disconnected. Probably a burner. McGee is going to try and track that too. Says he might be able to get ahold of the company with a warrant for the call log."
She nods, "You drive all the way out here to tell me that?"
Gibbs shrugs, "You got a problem with that?"
"No," She says, though in reality she does, "I just feel like a phone call should suffice for that bit of information."
"Can't a guy check up on his old partner?"
"Most people can," She grants, "You, however, always have an ulterior motive than just checking up on me."
The corner of his mouth curves up into a lopsided grin, a look that infuriates her yet brings her a strange sense of warmth. She liked to see him smile. He was a man who deserved to do so more than he allowed himself. Happy was a good look on him, even if at times it came at the expense of angering her.
"What kind of guy do you take me for?" He teases lightly.
"Don't ask questions you don't want the answer too, Jethro." Jenny says, but she can't but grin a little too.
This - the back and forth banter - was where she was most comfortable in her relationship with him. It had been the foundation that their tumultuous affair had been built upon, because he gave it as good as he got it. Not many people were willing to put up with her sarcasm, but he had no qualms about doing so.
"You ever consider I just want the truth from you, even if its not something I wanna hear?"
The words lack the venom that had been present every other time they spoke since her return from California. Maybe he was just as tired as she was.
Because, good god, she was so tired of it all.
"Truth is subjective." She counters, heading towards her study. Bad idea or not, she needs a drink.
"Not this truth," He replies, following behind her, "You made a mistake, Jen. I get it. But you should have told me, not Decker. We could have cleaned this up years ago."
She pops the top off the decanter full of bourbon and pours herself a generous glass before glancing his way, a silent question.
He nods, and she supposes maybe he needs a little liquid courage too.
"I should have," She grants, handing him a glass, "But I didn't. I've told you Jethro, I didn't want anyone else dying because of my screw up. Deckers death is on my hands."
He takes a slow sip of his drink before speaking, "Decker made his choice, he knew the risks of keeping a secret."
"He did it for me," Jenny says, eyes shifting to anywhere but the man in front of her, "He might have made his own choice, but no matter how you spin it, he still covered for me in the end. I did this. I made the mistake that resulted in his death, no matter how compliant he was in helping me. It's my fault he died Jethro."
The liquor has an unusual bite to it as she down half the glass. It was strong and expensive and would knock any unseasoned drinker off their feet from one glass. But she could hold her liquor as well as he could, and the burn helps ground her in reality.
"That why you walked in there?" Gibbs says, "Penance?"
Outside the world had began to grow darker, the threat of storm clouds rolling in on the horizon and she can't help but mentally roll her eyes. Gloomy weather for a gloomy conversation.
"Maybe," She grants, setting the glass down on her desk, "I couldn't have your blood on my hands either."
It all came back to this, his anger at her for going in alone, her choice to do so. Everything was centered around the desire to protect him, and his desire to protect her.
In some ways she wonders if they'll ever stop moving around one another as if they're still partners, because she knows when the chips were down, she had his back just as much as he had hers. Trusting someone with your life isn't a feeling that fades easily, and she knows with him it probably never will.
"You think it would have been easier if you died?" Gibbs says, voice raising to bridge on anger, but she can see in his eyes that he's trying to keep his temper in check.
"It would have been easier for me," She tears her eyes away from the window and forces herself to meet his gaze, "I'm not sorry for wanting to protect you, but I am sorry that I would have hurt you in the process. You've lost too much, and I was selfish."
She waits for a response, but it never comes. He merely stares at her, expression abnormally hard to decipher. There aren't many of his looks that she isn't familiar with, but this one is new entirely.
"And yes, it was selfish of me to walk away all those years ago, and it was selfish of me to decide to walk into that diner with the intention to die. But-" She pauses, words suddenly caught in her throat, "But I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I knew my mistake resulted in your death. I couldn't. I wouldn't know how to carry on."
There was no point in hiding it, he already knows how she feels. He was the love of her life, she told him as much, and there was no taking that back.
"I told you," He begins, finally breaking the silent streak, "I can't do this again."
She brushes past him, suddenly too overwhelmed by the way he was staring at her to remain stagnant, and heads towards the window. Specs of water were scattered across the glass, the sky spitting sporadic drops as the beginning of the storm hits them.
Crying was not something Jenny Shepard did often. She could count on one hand how many times she's done so in her adult life, but the longer she stands in his presence the more the threatening the tears become. So much had happened in so little time and she knows she hasn't even begun to process any of it.
"Do what again Jethro? I'm not your-" She swallows thickly, voice wobbly, "We're not anything."
In the windows reflection she can see him approach her. Not that she needed to, she would have been able to sense it. She always had that uncanny ability to know just where he was.
"Stop lying." He says, all trace of frustration in his voice gone, "You're something to me and I know damn well I'm something to you."
He's mere inches from her, practically pressed up against her back.
"You're the love of my life." She chokes out, voice all but cracking as she tries to swallow the heartache, "But too much damage has been done. I've done too much damage."
Hands are suddenly resting on her shoulders, grip gentle but firm, and all her resolve flees from her body and against her better judgment she finds herself leaning backwards the slightest bit until her back is brushing against his chest. She can feel his warmth through the cotton of her t-shirt and she had forgotten just how much comfort the touch of another person could bring.
She keeps her eyes closed, not willing to meet his gaze in the reflection.
"Jen?" He whispers.
"Yes, Jethro?"
And then he's spinning her around and pulling her into a hug, his chin coming to rest on the top of her head.
"You talk too much."
A/n: apologies for the extremely delayed update. Life has been hectic, but I'll be trying to update more. This is going to be the turning point in their relationship, so stay tuned.