A/N: For the sake of this story and my sanity, the whole Tony undercover Frog mission is not going on, and Jenny is not dating Todd. This chapter mainly recaps "Escaped" (4x02), and it's pretty short. I promise next chapter will be when this story starts to really take shape.


"Goddamn it, Probie," Mike muttered.

"What?" Jethro asked, flinging his arms out, the boat they were on rocking in the water.

"Thought you mentioned that lady director a lot before. You've proved me wrong since ya got back."

Jethro winced, not realizing he'd even been doing so in the first place. He moved a little where he sat, wishing now that he weren't trapped on a boat with Mike. He picked up his fishing rod again and reeled it just a little, suddenly wanting to be busy with his hands.

"Somethin' happen between the two 'o ya when ya visited?" Mike probed.

He shrugged and stared at the water, wishing a fish would bite so Mike would be distracted and they could change the subject. Mike chuckled.

"Ah, so somethin' did happen."

He continued to ignore his mentor, really not wanting to get into it. He still hadn't decided how he felt about it all.

"Come on. Get it off yer chest. Ain't gonna do ya no good ignorin' me. You already talked my ear off 'bout 'er, can't leave out the juicy bits."

He clenched his teeth, praying to everything that was holy that a fish would just bite already. He wished he were on land so he could just walk away, like he usually did. He watched the water ripple, feeling the urge to hop in and swim back to shore.

"Jeez, you two end up makin' sheet music again or somethin'?" Mike said with a chuckle.

He couldn't help the way his body shifted uncomfortably, nor the way his eyes shifted to glance over at Mike. He knew he'd given himself away instantly, and he cursed himself for being an idiot.

"Seriously?" Mike said with a snort. He laughed and clapped Jethro on the shoulder. "Good for you, Probie. Good for you. Can't blame ya for not passin' up a duet with a feisty woman."

"It's not good, Mike," he insisted, glaring at him.

"Why the hell not?" Mike rounded on him.

"Complicates things."

"What, she ask for a ring or somethin'?"

"No."

"She say ya were exclusive?"

"No."

"Then what's "complicated" 'bout it?" Mike asked.

"Don't know how she feels. Don't know how the hell I feel. Gotta past. She left me. She's my boss now. It's complicated!" Jethro shot out in irritation, looking away again and back at the water.

"What'd she say after?"

"Just 'two old partners catching up'," Jethro repeated.

"That's what she said?"

Jethro nodded.

"Then I don't see what the problem is. Sounds like ya both got to enjoy a good tussle in the sheets to release some tension. Don't sound like she expects nothin' more. You're in the clear."

Jethro shook his head. It sounded like it should be that simple, but it didn't feel like it was. On the other hand, Mike had a point. Perhaps it was just both of them finally releasing some of that built up tension.

"Maybe," he muttered.

Silence fell on them again. Jethro stared into the wavy depths, listening as the water gently smacked against the boat and the seagulls squawked in the distance. He could feel the sun on his skin, could smell the salty tang of the ocean. He should feel free and calm, but his mind wasn't cooperating with the environment.

"You gonna tell her how ya feel?"

He closed his eyes impatiently, thinking the subject had dropped already.

"Whaddya mean?" he muttered.

"Don't play dumb. If ya didn't still care, ya wouldn't ever talk about her, and ya wouldn't be beatin' yourself up over it."

He ignored him again and glared at the water. He was glad he was going back to the States tomorrow to deal with his house. He'd been back in Mexico for almost two weeks, and he was pretty sure he and Mike needed another small break from each other.

He didn't want to care. He didn't want to feel. Caring and feeling brought nothing but misery when things turned south. She'd already hurt him once, and he didn't want to get hurt again. He didn't like that he was even capable of hurting.

Two old partners catching up. Nothing more.


She wasn't surprised when her door burst open, announcing the arrival of the only person who had the balls to abuse her door like that. She'd been thinking she would see him again. She'd gotten wind that he was in town getting his house ready to sell, and considering what she'd just read in Fornell's report, it made sense that he would want to get involved.

"Just when I was getting used to my door being treated as a door," she said, putting her pen down and closing her file, giving him her attention.

"I need a temporary reinstatement," he said, not bothering to greet her.

"I assume you're here because of ex-Petty Officer Derrick Paulson? I read Agent Fornell's report. Why the sudden, if temporary, interest in bank robbers?"

"If you've read Fornell's report, Jen, then you already know. We're wasting time."

"It's not that simple, Jethro. You left. I appreciate what you did for Ziva, but this is not some gym membership that you can turn on and off."

"No, I can't; but I'm not Director of NCIS."

"And the Director of NCIS already filed your retirement package with Navy Human Resources."

"Un-file it."

"It doesn't work that way, Jethro. It would take weeks to reinstate you. And that's even if you managed to pass your—"

"My psych evaluation?" he interrupted. "Or are you talking about my firearms proficiency exam?"

She couldn't help the thoughts that swirled through her head at that question.

"No. That one I'm not worried about," she said, lacing it with double meaning. He'd proven two weeks ago he was just as proficient as he'd always been…

He let out a frustrated scoff and turned to head out the door. She realized she was taking it too hard on him. She knew she was trying to distance herself from him by being angry at him instead. But perhaps it was unfair to take it out on him like this.

"Wait," she called out. He turned to face her, glaring hard.

"Let me at least..." she began, realizing she wasn't done having fun quite yet, "...validate your parking."

He gave a dramatic eye-roll and she turned to one of her drawers, where she'd secretly been keeping his retirement package.

She pulled it out and let out a theatrical gasp.

"I could've sworn I filed this." She turned to him with a gigantic smile, having far too much fun teasing him. "Your retirement package."

His eyes widened for a comical second before they narrowed at her. She got up and walked towards him.

"I must have accidentally put in for your unused leave time instead," she said as she walked up to him. She opened the file and glanced down at it. "Of which, it seems, there are six days left, until it has to be filed."

He gave her a good glare before turning and heading out the door.

He was colder than she had expected him to be. Then again, she had been cold too. She guessed he was regretting that night with her. She was certainly regretting it. It had relieved an itch, but now that itch felt ten times worse. Like she'd finally had a drink after a long drought and had forgotten just how refreshing it was.

It had also dredged up old feelings that she was having a hard time ignoring. She should have known better. Sex always came with complications. It wasn't something you could just do and move on from.


The next day he found himself in her office again, giving her an update on the case. It had been part of the deal for him being temporarily reinstated. He'd been trying hard to keep his eyes on her hers, but for some reason her exposed neck was making it harder than it should be. Maybe it was that fact that the top two buttons on her shirt were undone and she had this loosened tie hanging from the collar. Something about that tie was making him feel the urge to pull it off and expose a little more of her to him.

He wanted to slap himself.

He wished that release of tension had been enough to kill any of his physical feelings for her, but now his physical urges felt even worse. The one good thing about it was it was helping him to feel irritated with her by putting the blame for his frustration on her. He'd been determined to be completely distant after his conversation with Mike. Mike was right, it was just a tussle in the sheets to release a little tension. No one needed to get hurt again. Things could go back to where they were before. It was just sex.

The second he was done with his report he turned to leave.

"Jethro?"

He stopped, taking a mental breath before he grudgingly turned back around to look at her.

"How is your house doing? Anyone buying?"

"Bein' fumigated. Got termites."

She couldn't help but feel a little amused by that thought.

"Is the boat safe?" she asked in a stage whisper.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head in amusement.

She bit her lip, debating if she should ask if he needed a place to stay. She knew it was a stupid idea, especially since she was determined to keep things at "old partners". Still, if he needed help she couldn't just let him dangle. She tried to reason with herself that she wouldn't attempt to scratch a currently maddening itch. He would just sleep in the guest bedroom…or hers, you know, if he really wanted.

"If you need a place to stay…well, as I'm sure you remember, I have a couple extra rooms."

He didn't expect the offer and he stared at her guardedly for a second. He could already see what would happen if he was alone with her in her house, and it involved him ripping that tie off her neck and undoing the rest of those buttons. He shook his head quickly at her offer.

"Fornell's already offered. Promised Em I'd play with her before she had to go to bed."

She nodded, almost relieved. She couldn't help but smile at the thought of Jethro playing some kind of childish game with Fornell's kid.

"You've always been great with kids," she commented.

He got a distant look in his eyes and she immediately felt guilty. She kept forgetting about his past, the past that she hadn't known about until a few months ago. The last time she'd made some comment about him being good with kids she'd been new as Director, and he'd brushed it off quickly with a flirty remark that she'd never forgotten.

"That an offer, Jen?"

This time, no flirty remark came. Instead, she could see the haunted look in his eyes, and she almost wished she didn't know again. The revelation had made so many past memories she had of them take on a whole new meaning.

He swallowed and shrugged, attempting to smile. All he could see in the back of his head was his laughing Kelly.

"Em's a great kid, not hard with her," he brushed off. "Gotta get back."

She watched him turn around and leave. It felt just like it had when he'd left after she'd brought up Serbia when he first got back. That was a good sign, she tried to reason with herself. It meant things were still the same despite their little physical fling.

Yet it didn't feel the same, because now the uncaring comments and behavior hurt even more than before.


The next day had passed by and she'd barely seen him since their conversation in her office. Ziva was the one keeping her updated since. The case was now wrapped up and she found herself headed to his house. Ziva had told her earlier that she'd tried to sneakily convince Gibbs to stay and that he hadn't been receptive. He apparently also said "please" to a suspect in interrogation, which surprised her.

His behavior was unnerving her, and she found herself feeling worried about him and his health. Perhaps it was best that he step away from NCIS. She couldn't shake the haunted look he had in his eyes the other day.

She emerged in his basement and walked down the steps. He was sitting in the corner on a stool, his body relaxed against the counter, head resting on his hand, staring at the skeletal frame of his boat.

She found herself for a quick and inappropriate moment wanting to sit in his lap. Wanting to hold his head in her hands and kiss him and unzip his pants and get down to business. She had to give herself a sharp mental headslap, forcing herself to remember why she was here.

"I just came by to tell you that Derrick Paulson has been cleared of all charges," she announced as she walked up to him. She put her purse down by his arm. "You saved that boy's life."

"He did most of the work," he insisted, staring up at her and nodding to himself.

"Don't sell yourself short. Or is it too late for that?"

"This supposed to be some sort of a pep talk, to get me to stay, Jen?"

She smiled tightly and laughed to herself. No. Much as she had wanted that, much as she wanted him to be back, much as she loved hearing him say "Jen" the way he always did—she was worried about him. She looked down and crossed her arms, her mind working furiously.

He looked at her, sensing the wall that suddenly came up, realizing he had read her wrong. He put down the hand he'd been resting his head on.

"You don't want me back," he observed.

"No, I don't."

"Worried you won't be able to handle me, Director?" he said sarcastically, no longer looking at her. So she really hadn't cared after all.

She felt her chest tighten at the way he said her title. When he switched from "Jen" to "Director", she knew he was pissed off with her.

"No, Jethro..."—she took a moment to look at him, remembering what he'd looked like in that coma, remembering how she'd been sick with worry—"I'm afraid you won't be able to handle yourself." She swallowed, trying to keep her emotions at bay. "You've already been in two comas. You might not come out of a third."

"The fact is you're good. The best," she insisted. "When you're as good at something as you are, when you can make a difference like you can, you just don't quit."

There it was, the bitterness she'd felt over him leaving the way he had.

She couldn't take the hurt she saw everywhere in his face. She felt her emotions bubbling and he refused to look at her and she couldn't take it anymore. She needed to leave before she did something stupid, like cry, or yell—or sit in his lap.

She grabbed her purse and turned, not looking back as she headed out of his basement.

She knew there would be two outcomes. Either he would take the hurt he felt and leave and she'd never see him again, or he'd use it to try and prove her wrong by coming back. She wouldn't deny she hoped for the second one. At the same time, she didn't want to witness him coming back only to end up killing himself. She didn't want to see him in a hospital bed or a casket.

She was realizing things weren't the same between them, much as she'd tried to convince herself. And now, she'd made it even worse. But he needed to get his head on straight. She hoped they could mend the bridge eventually.

She just wished she didn't still feel for him. Didn't still want him. She wished she could be like him and move on and act like it hadn't even happened. She wished she wasn't the only one with her heart in a knot.


The next morning when Jenny stepped into her office, she was surprised to see Jethro waiting for her outside her door. What surprised her even more was his face—she wasn't sure if she wanted to gag or laugh.

He was dressed up for work, except he'd ditched the usual polo and was wearing one of the button up shirts that he'd started wearing since he came back. The top few buttons were undone, revealing his white undershirt. That was another difference he'd had since he came back, his undershirts. They were different than the ones he used to wear, a lot lower and thinner.

So, he must have made up his mind to come back.

She didn't know if the hideous thing on his upper lip was part of whatever mid-life crisis he was going through, or if he was doing it partly to spite her, considering she'd told him the beard suited him after their 'catching up'.

If that thing on his upper lip was meant to punish her, then the joke was on him, because clearly he was just punishing himself by wandering around in public looking like that.

She desperately wished she had an electric shaver in her hand. She missed the hot scruff he'd had before. Without facial hair he looked just as hot, but in a different way.

This…this was unacceptable.

"Jethro," she greeted, going past him to unlock her door. "Come in," she said when she opened it and headed in, not daring to look back at him. She didn't think she could take looking at his face for too long.

"I'm comin' back," he said as she walked to her desk.

"I assumed, what with you being back here and dressed for work and everything," she said, putting her things away at her desk and getting things ready. "There's going to be some paperwork involved, and the bullpen will need to be reorganized again if you want your desk back. Not sure what I'm going to do with Lee."

"You're lettin' me come back?" he shot out, clearly surprised.

She finally looked back at him, wincing at the sight of his mustache.

"I already told you, you're good. I'd be stupid to turn away the best agent I have down there, even if you may blow yourself up again."

He nodded, and she didn't miss the satisfied look that flashed across his face. He didn't look quite as stormy as he had a minute ago. Clearly he had been prepped to fight it out.

"I'll set up," he mumbled, turning to head out.

"Special Agent Gibbs," she called, making him stop and look at her again. "Promise me you won't abandon your team, ever again."

He stared at her for a long second and gave a nod in agreement. She was glad to note the seriousness in his face that showed he meant it. He turned and left in a flash, leaving her to her new predicament. She sighed and started the mental check list for what all she would need to do in order to permanently reinstate him.

He was such a pain in the ass.

She had a headache starting and she swore his mustache had actually made her nauseous. It was downright revolting. At least it would keep her from wanting to jump his bones again.

Hopefully.