"Jenny" he moaned.

He had one hand in hers and another below her naval, keeping her hips against his as her back pressed against his chest while he thrust in their spooning position. He moved his fingers against her, thrusting hard, and she finally lost it. Her breathless whimpers were his undoing.

His body tensed and he squeezed her hand, shutting his eyes and groaning as he felt release surge through him. His hips stilled against hers as he buried himself deep, his entire brain going blank.

He opened his eyes as he tried to catch his breath, eyes wandering her room aimlessly as his brain tried to catch up. He pressed a kiss against her neck as he relaxed. She squeezed his hand and then let it go, shifting a bit. He backed off his hips, slipping out of her as she twisted around to face him. His hand sought her face, his thumb drifting across her cheek as she pressed her lips to his.

"Mmm, Jethro," she sighed.

He smiled, feeling very smug about the pleasure he'd given her tonight. Any night where he got her there more than once was an accomplishment. They laid there for a few minutes, basking in the afterglow.

When it all wore off, reality sinking back in, he felt her eyes on him and looked over, raising a cocky eyebrow.

"You know what would make this night even better?"

He chuckled and shook his head. The woman was insatiable. "What?" he relented.

She gave him a slow kiss and pulled back again, looking at him seriously, whispering out,

"Cotton candy."

…what?

He was thrown off guard, looking at her in confusion. Did she say…cotton candy? He was starting to wonder if she was going to pull out some kind of flavored lube or crazy sex toy that he didn't know about. She'd surprised him in the past before.

"Cotton…?"

"Candy," she finished for him confidently.

"As in…?"

"Spun sugar. Festival joy. Colored, fluffy, melt-in-your-mouth goodness."

He stared at her, even more confused and waiting for the joke to hit. He had no idea where this was going.

"Cotton candy, Jethro," she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I need it. I need you to go buy me some cotton candy."

"You want cotton candy…"

"Yes."

"Right now?"

"Yes."

Had he fallen asleep? Was this a dream? Things had taken a strange turn. This was supposed to be the part where she told him how good he was in bed, not suddenly request cotton candy. Seriously, cotton candy? He blinked and took a deep breath, seeing if he was really grounded in reality right now.

"Cotton candy?" he questioned again. He was beyond baffled.

"I'm craving it so bad, it's insane. Even more than I was craving your dick an hour ago."

He glared, the comment making him feel put out and insufficient all of a sudden. Did she seriously just put eating cotton candy above having sex with him? He'd never even seen her eat cotton candy before. Why was she suddenly…?

"Can't you get some tomorrow?" he protested.

"I can't wait. I need it now."

"Then go get some."

"You're going to send your pregnant lover out in the dark, to the city, to go shop alone?"

He sighed. She was right. He wouldn't allow that, and she damn well knew it.

She cuddled up to him, hugging him. "Please, Jethro, could you go buy me some? It's all I can think about."

He eyed her critically. He wanted to say no. He wanted to be stubborn. He sure as hell didn't want to drive to the stores to try and find cotton candy at 8:30 at night. He just wanted to enjoy his after-sex sleep. Also, cotton candy? Couldn't it be something more easily obtainable, like chocolate?

"Where in the hell am I gonna buy cotton candy?"

"I'm sure some stores sell it. Maybe Walmart. Or it seems like a candy store would have some."

He stayed silent, really hoping the craving would magically disappear and she wouldn't make him. He knew he couldn't say no to those pleading eyes.

"Please?"

"Fine," he grunted, glaring as he shifted to get out of bed.

She grabbed his shoulder before he escaped and gave him a long kiss. "Thank you," she breathed.

He grunted in response, getting up and locating his underwear and pants.

He didn't know why the hell she was craving sugar with this pregnancy. He'd found it to be quite funny at first. To suddenly want sugar all the time was beyond unusual for her. She was usually careful with her diet, especially since she'd come on as Director. She'd been more lenient when they first knew each other.

But he was honestly a bit terrified some nights by how much she would eat or what she would crave—mainly just because it was out of character for her. Not that he would ever voice that out loud. He cared about having his balls.

He was less than thrilled when he got to Walmart and they informed him that cotton candy was a seasonal item and they only sold it during the spring and summer. The worker was kind enough to look up addresses for a couple candy stores nearby.

The first one was closed, of course.

The second one, thankfully, was still open. It was about to close right as he'd gotten there, and he ignored the glare he'd gotten as he walked in last minute. He asked about cotton candy and was directed to it. He raised an eyebrow at the impressive sized clear bags stuffed full of the colorful sugar. He had the option between blue and pink, so he grabbed one of each and checked out.

He chewed on sunflower seeds to stay awake when he drove back to her house, glaring at nothing in particular. He should be asleep, blissfully unaware of the world as he slept next to her naked and sated body. And yet he had spent almost an hour trying to locate cotton candy just because she had a craving. Because apparently he wasn't enough to satisfy her. He glared harder.

Women were manipulative. They were dangerous. They lured you in with their body, and before you knew it they were sending you out to fulfill ridiculous wants and tasks. It wasn't fair.

When he made it to her door it flung open before he even grabbed the handle. Her eyes darted down to his hands, and her face lit up.

"You found some?"

Before he could even respond she squealed and grabbed the pink bag, messing with the little plastic tie around it so she could open it. She looked like a kid at the fair who just got a massive stick of the fluffy stuff for the first time. He shook his head in amusement and closed the door, seeing her pull off a piece of the candy and pop it into her mouth.

The eager moan she let out was definitely not innocent, and then she looked at him and batted her eyelashes and licked her lips and he was pretty sure his brain short-circuited. It made the way she put more of the fluff into her mouth look far more sexual than it actually was.

Women really had too much power.

"This is exactly what I wanted." She smiled and moaned in appreciation, patting her stomach. "We both thank you."

With that she kissed him on the cheek and before he could even try to kiss her on the lips she was ripping off more fluff in the bag and shoving it in her mouth.

She really needed to stop moaning, because all he could think about was the bedroom, and he was far too tired and already spent in that department.

He opened his mouth to suggest they get some sleep, only to find his mouth filled when she shoved some of the sugar fluff into his mouth as well.

"Isn't it great?" she exclaimed.

He grimaced, feeling the stuff slowly turn into sugar goo in his mouth. He swallowed it in disgust. "Yeah, sure," he responded halfheartedly. It was so damn sweet. He remembered the sickly sweet way her fancy coffee drinks used to taste back in the day.

"Mm. That hit the spot." She held the bag towards him, offering him more, and he declined with a shake of his head. She smiled and pecked him on the lips, muttering "thank you". He made to deepen the kiss but she pulled back and focused on tying the pink bag back up. She took the blue one from him and marched the bags to the kitchen.

He rubbed his neck and let out a breath. He couldn't decide if he was more amused or exhausted by the whole night. He made a mental note to make sure there was always some sugary thing in both of their houses so that she didn't send him on any future late night runs. Perhaps he should stash the blue cotton candy at his.

She came back into the room and pressed up against him, looping her arms around his neck and pressing her face into his chest. He could feel air through his shirt as she breathed in deeply with her nostrils.

"Mmm, you're so handsome. Going out and buying me poison, like a real man."

"Drunk on sugar?" he snorted.

She murmured a negative, shaking her head. "Still drunk on you from earlier."

He tensed when her hand slid down and grabbed his butt cheek. He lowered his head onto her shoulder, chuckling into her hair. "Jen, it's time for bed."

"You've got that right."


Things were easier.

It had been noticeably so since their last appointment two weeks ago. Telling each other about their parents, clearing the air on that front and those secrets, it had made a difference. An added sense of trust. It was a silent acknowledgment—they understood each other on a much deeper level than they had realized. They had both lost a parent dear to them. They had both had loved ones murdered. They had both experienced strained relationships with a parent. The topic of suicide affected them for different reasons.

It was no wonder that they both had clicked so well from the start. That they both had so easily fallen for each other and managed a relationship early on. They had understood each other on certain fronts without even knowing it, and it explained why neither of them had felt much pressure to open up back then either. They understood the want to not open up, because some things were just too painful.

Granted, not opening up back then had not done them any favors in the end—but they were certainly making up for it now.

Jenny flicked her pen across the paper, marking the box of acknowledgment. She swiftly signed her name and date to the bottom of the report. She closed the file and put it in her out-box, grabbing the next file in the stack from her in-box. She flipped open the manila folder, her eyes already scanning the first page of the file. The crackle of the speaker on her desk sounded.

"Director? Officer David is here to see you."

Jenny didn't hesitate to click the button and respond. "Send her in."

She breathed a sigh of relief seeing Ziva walk through the door. This would be a welcome distraction from these reports. Unless Jethro did something stupid and that was why Ziva was here…

"Ziva," she greeted, standing up and smiling.

"Director," Ziva nodded.

"Please tell me you aren't here with bad news. Agent Gibbs better be behaving himself."

Ziva gave a distinct smirk, shaking her head in the negative as she approached the desk. "It is not bad news. It does have to do with Special Agent Gibbs, though."

Jenny winced, sighing and sitting back down, bracing herself for whatever idiotic thing he may have pulled. "Okay," she breathed out. "Give it to me. What did he do?"

"If I were Tony, I would answer with 'you'."

She blinked, confused. "What?"

"You and Special Agent Gibbs are sleeping together again, are you not?"

She studied her old friend for a minute, flashing back to the conversations she had with Ziva back in Cairo. Perhaps she had said too much back then with Ziva. Granted, she had never dreamed then that Ziva would eventually meet the mysterious Jethro Gibbs from her past and end up working for him. Not to mention, Ziva had saved her life, and that had brought about a closeness between them back then that had warranted much more than just casual small talk. They'd been tired, fighting for their lives, and they'd had some fun girl talk one drunken night.

Ziva had been the one female that Jenny could say she actually developed a real bond with, hence her bringing her to the States with her and putting her in NCIS. Jethro had been the only one she trusted to not only teach and guide Ziva, but the only one she knew could handle Ziva's strong-willed personality and survive.

"Knowing you, you already know the answer without me saying anything," Jenny finally replied.

Ziva smiled, acknowledging the statement and looking quite proud of herself.

"In fact, I would guess with your observational skills, you picked up on us before anyone else could so much as guess."

Ziva shrugged. "My previous knowledge of past events between you and Agent Gibbs gives me an advantage."

"I'm grateful that you've been discreet about all of that."

"I was trained to be discreet about any information that could be seen as useful in enemy hands. Especially information that has to do with my leaders."

"Still, I'm grateful."

"You are not just my leader, Director. You are also my friend."

Jenny smiled and looked down, fidgeting with her hands and feeling guilty. "Well, I've been a terrible friend lately. I haven't been great at keeping in touch outside of the office the last few months."

"You are with child and your job keeps you busy. It is understandable."

"As my friend, you deserve more. I should have told you in confidence about what was going on in my life, and I should have been asking about yours."

"Leaders do not talk of personal information with their workers, even if they respect them."

Jenny felt sadness tug at her. The same kind of sadness that always tugged at her when she heard Ziva talk about these kinds of things. Her Mossad training had instilled such a hardened outlook of life into her. For Ziva to even acknowledge out loud that she had a friend, that she considered Jenny a friend, was a feat.

"We know far too much about each other to fall into that category," Jenny dismissed. "If there is anything you want to ask, you are welcome to. I'm Jenny right now to you, not your Director. Pretend I'm the idiot whose ass you had to save in Cairo."

Ziva chuckled, her military like posture relaxing a bit. "Gibbs seems happy," she remarked.

"Does he?"

"Yes. He tries to hide it, but I can tell he is."

Jenny smiled. She was relieved. She always worried that he wasn't as okay with all this as he acted lately.

"What about you?"

Ziva's question made Jenny pause, and she looked into the other woman's face as she considered her answer.

"I've…accepted it. It's been hard. I never thought I'd be pregnant or have a kid. I certainly didn't do it intentionally. We weren't even in a relationship when it happened," she scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief.

Ziva smirked.

"Don't look at me like that," Jenny laughed.

"After the things you told me before about him in bed, I am not taken forward."

"Taken aback," Jenny corrected.

Ziva shrugged it off. "Are you leaving NCIS when you have the child?"

"No." Her prompt answer made Ziva raise her eyebrows. "I've worked so long to get here. You know some of what I've put into this. I can't leave now."

Ziva nodded, accepting the answer. "I would not leave either."

"Have you ever wanted kids, Ziva?"

Ziva tilted her head as she considered. "I've never really thought about it."

Therein lie why Jenny and Ziva had bonded when they met. They were both headstrong, independent, and not considered very 'womanly'. They weren't the types who'd fantasized about marriage and keeping house for a husband.

"Consider taking your birth control very seriously if you don't want to do what I did," Jenny supplied.

"I am sure that will not be a problem for me."

"That's what I thought."

Jenny heard the phone in the outer office go off and then her speaker crackled with Cynthia's voice again.

"Director, Special Agent DiNozzo says Officer David is needed downstairs."

"Thank you, Cynthia. Inform them that she'll be right down."

"Of course, Director." The slight static sound disappeared.

"Before you go, Ziva, how are you doing? Are you still okay being here at NCIS? Is there anything you need?"

"I am happy to be at NCIS. I like learning under Special Agent Gibbs. He is a good teacher." Ziva left it at that and made to walk out, clearly feeling the duty to get downstairs.

"It was nice talking, Ziva. I appreciate you. Please let me know whenever you need anything."

"Thank you, Director." Ziva stopped as she reached the door, turning to look at Jenny. "You do know that Tony is telling people that James Bond is fathering your child?"

"What?"

Ziva smirked and shrugged, going out the door.


Jenny sighed as she got out of MTAC, glancing down as she passed, not seeing sight of Jethro's team anywhere. She hadn't seen much of any of them this week, they'd been busy. She winced when her toes protested her movement. She didn't want to admit that her heels were starting to become more uncomfortable. Beauty was pain. If she could even claim beauty anymore—she was feeling fat and not altogether very sexy as time continued to pass.

Cynthia was gone when she reached the office and she realized her assistant was probably on lunch. She realized she really should consider eating something herself, but she wasn't even sure she felt like eating. All she honestly wanted was a nap, and to quit feeling pregnant.

She opened her office door, halting as she approached her desk and saw a candy bar.

"You're late."

She jumped at the voice, whipping her head around to see Jethro laying on her couch, smirking at her. His shit-eating grin made her glare, despite how exhausted he looked.

"You're on my couch," she stated.

"Uh-huh."

"You're not supposed to be on my couch."

"Wanted to lay down."

"This is my office, not your bedroom."

"Come over here and we can pretend it's my bedroom."

She rolled her eyes at the remark, trying to keep from smiling as she shook her head. She wasn't going to admit how good it was to see him after how busy he'd been lately. "I hope your team isn't laying around somewhere too."

"Lunch."

"Did you not eat?"

"Had a sandwich."

She nodded her head and turned to the desk, picking up the candy bar. "This from you?"

"Thought you might be hungry."

"How thoughtful," she snarked, wishing he'd saved her part of the sandwich. She knew he was tired, but she was tired too.

"Gotcha this too," he responded, pulling up a container of salad from the floor.

She bit her lip, smiling, feeling a bit bad now. She'd underestimated him. "I'd question if you got me a salad because you think I'm fat, but the candy bar would contradict that."

"You always get salad."

She shrugged, ripping the wrapper off the candy bar and took a bite. She sighed happily at the taste of the chocolate and made her way over to him. He made to sit up and move to make room, but she told him to stay put, maneuvering to sit in between his legs and lay back against him. She took another bite of the chocolate and kicked her heels off, sighing happily. He wrapped an arm around her, resting his palm against her bump as he pressed a kiss to her head.

"Still think we could pretend this is the bedroom," he whispered.

She laughed, putting her hand over his. "I don't know how many times I need to repeat my 'no on-the-job' policy."

"It's lunch. We're not on the job."

"If I'm in this building, I'm on the job."

"Cuddling with employees is okay on the job?"

"My employees aren't even supposed to be on my couch unless invited. Especially when they are trying to sneak in a nap and I'm not in the office. I'd fire anyone else for that."

"So I'm special?"

"Oh, you've always been special, Jethro. Super, extra special."

He glared at the sarcastic tone in her voice. "Gotta be for fallin' for you," he muttered underneath her.

She ignored the comment and brought his hand in hers up to her mouth, giving his palm a kiss to soothe his poor ego before she placed their hands back.

She took another bite of the candy and closed her eyes in satisfaction. It was mere seconds before she opened them again and glared at the almost finished chocolate in her hand when her stomach seemed to protest. She'd hardly eaten anything all day, she didn't understand why she'd be feeling gassy. She'd been getting weird gas bubbles the past couple of days, yet she didn't feel sick. Must be another pregnancy side effe—

She froze.

Was it a side effect…or was it—? She looked down at her lower abdomen, concentrating on the feelings. Was she mistaking gas for—was that the baby?

The movement was so subtle.

"Jethro," she gasped, sitting up.

"What's wrong?" shooting up behind her.

"It's-it's…"

"Jen?"

"I think it's moving."

"What?"

"The baby. I think I-I can feel it."

She pressed her hand against her stomach. It really was the tiniest kind of feeling deep down inside of her, and it was hard to describe. But she was almost positive now that it was the baby. She looked behind her shoulder to see him staring intently at her stomach, as if he would somehow be able to see it. He pressed a hand to her stomach in vain, as if he would somehow be able to feel it too.

"What's it feel like?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know how to describe it…it's like, a twitch. Or a flutter. It's like I can feel it but at the same time I can't."

She felt him place his chin on his shoulder as they both just stared down. "Guess it's doin' okay," he said gruffly.


Their hands were tightly entwined, each waiting in anticipation.

They were at the 20 week appointment, and they were eager to know the gender as the doctor moved the handheld across the gel on Jenny's stomach.

Doctor Landis smiled at them both. "I always ask one last time if my patients want to know. I've had patients change their minds before."

"Yes," Jenny shot out. Jethro merely smiled.

"Well then, congratulations. It's a boy."

Jenny was hit by emotion, processing the thought. She looked up at Jethro, seeing what his reaction was.

He swallowed, steadying his breathing. He wasn't sure why he felt off balance. He knew it was either going to be a boy or a girl, but somehow he was still shocked.

A boy. He was going to have a son. He not only had Jenny, but they were going to have a little baby boy. He looked down, seeing Jenny's eyes on him, and he found himself beaming as he looked into her face. He tried to ignore the water he felt in his eyes and kissed her hand as she smiled back at him.

The doctor got their attention again to show on the monitor the proof that it was a boy, and then proceeded to point out the baby's other features.

It would be an impossible contest to judge who looked the happiest between the two of them.

The rest of the appointment was quite long, because they needed to measure the baby's limbs on the scan and do a complete anatomical analysis. Jenny also had to give blood and have all the other basics checked on. They were always careful with her tests and she usually consented to extra recommended ones, due to the fact that her pregnancy was labeled a "geriatric" one. A fact she had very much struggled with at the start, not really considering herself to be all that ancient.

Much to their relief, everything was deemed normal and satisfactory. It was a weight off of Jenny's mind to know the baby was doing healthy and growing normally.

They eventually had made it out of the hospital and back into the car, on their way home.

"I guess we can settle on a name now," Jenny commented, looking at the scans in her lap. "Figures you'd knock me up with a boy. The stubborn male in you won out."

"Probably all the stubborn male in you too," he smirked.

"Ha, as if. I didn't get my way to my position fighting like a cowardly male. I fought like a lady."

"Lady," he snorted under his breath. "Ya used to pin Stan up against the filing cabinet and threaten him."

"Like any lady would."

"Ya punched him and Decker."

"They deserved it."

He nodded in agreement to that. He remembered feeling like he was some high school principal all the time back then with the three of them. Then he thought about his current team, realizing nothing had actually changed since then.

This time around he wasn't screwing his probie though. Now he was screwing the Director…and having a baby with her. Perhaps it could be argued he'd moved up in the world.

He parked the car in front of his house and killed the engine.

"Jethro?"

He looked over to her, seeing uncertainty in her eyes.

"Are you happy that it's a boy?"

"Yeah, 'course I am."

"I wasn't sure if you wanted a boy or, you know…another girl."

He clenched his jaw. Kelly was heavy on his mind some days, and today had been one of them. It was confusing to think about the boy versus girl thing when he thought about her. The minute he'd heard boy he realized he wouldn't be having another Kelly. Then he realized how ridiculous that thought even was. Kelly wasn't replaceable. At the same time, he felt like having another kid would potentially heal that wound in his heart, replace her in a certain way, and it scared the hell out of him. He'd never thought he'd have another kid. He picked up one of the intriguing 3D scans and looked at the little guy.

But it fit. Having a baby with Jenny. He wouldn't have cared if it was a boy or a girl, and that was what was scary about Jen. She had his heart, lock and key. She'd had it so many years ago, but not to the extent she had it now. He cared about her so much, and there was no way in hell he'd ever let go of her at this point. Everything about this felt right. He looked forward to being a dad again, even though the idea of having another little human being—trying to protect that little human being—frightened him more than anything.

He felt her hand land on his arm and he looked away from the scan to her, seeing the worry in her face.

"Jen, I didn't care if it was a boy or girl. Just glad he's healthy. Glad you're both healthy." He smiled at her to soothe her, trying to assure her he was happy.

She still looked stressed, and he didn't know why she was freaking out right now. He put the scan back in her lap and opened his car door, trying to be quick so he could get to hers before she beat him to it. He was surprised when he got to the other side and she was still sitting there like a statue. He opened it, staring at her.

"Jen?"

She was chewing her lip nervously, clearly thinking about something. He wasn't sure what was going through her head, but he helped her out of the car, making sure to avoid any slick spots by the curb and get them in the warmth of the house. As soon as he closed the door behind them she suddenly blurted—

"He needs to have a grandparent."

He paused in his effort to take off his coat and looked at her in question.

"Jethro, I want to meet your dad."

He stiffened, feeling anger shoot through him. Apparently she hadn't stopped thinking about their conversation after the last appointment. He turned away again, ignoring her as he took off his coat.

"This baby needs at least one grandparent. Your dad is the only one who isn't dead, or at least didn't abandon his own family."

He shrugged, trying to reign in his annoyance. "Baby has Ducky."

"And Ducky will be an excellent grandfather figure. But I'm talking flesh and blood. I want the baby to have someone who can tell him stories about you as a child. Someone who has experience in raising one of the baby's parents. Grandparents are invaluable. You never realize how important they are until they're gone."

He didn't realize she had any connections with her grandparents. She must have been close to one of them. He had barely known any of his, they had lived too far away.

"The baby'll be fine. Won't matter to him."

"But it matters to me!" she snapped. "And sure, maybe it won't matter to the baby when he's a newborn, but what about as he gets older? What about when they talk about grandparents in school and he doesn't know any of his own? He doesn't even have any doting aunts or uncles. Neither of us has almost any family."

"We got others. The team," he insisted. "Family isn't about DNA."

"Do you know what I would give to have my dad around to be a grandfather to our baby?" she demanded. He was unnerved that their were tears in her eyes, and not the happy kind from earlier. "My dad may not have approved of the circumstances, but he sure as hell would have made a terrific grandpa. He'd be overjoyed to have a grandson, and he'd be teaching him every damn military term, jargon and slang before the kid could so much as walk."

He cringed at the tears she wiped away and the shaky breath she took.

"Family may not be about DNA, but it sure as hell has an impact," she continued. "I want this baby to have more. I want him to have a grandparent if he has that option. Unless your dad really is a bastard. If he's a bad man, then by all means we won't include him in our life. But if he is half the man you are—we should give him a chance, or at least let him know."

He stood stock-still, clenching his jaw.

"Unless you give me a real reason why he should be cut off, I'm going to reach out whether you want to be involved or not. I'm not going to keep the baby from the only other family he has just because of some grudge."

She marched past him and went up the stairs, leaving him glaring at the landing. He huffed and shook his head in annoyance, deciding to retreat downstairs to his boat.

It didn't take him long to grab that bottle of bourbon she had given him and slosh some in his mug as he worked out his frustration on the boat for the next hour.

He didn't understand why she had ruined a perfectly good and joyful day by bringing this into the mix. They were so happy earlier. Why did women complicate every damn thing? The ruins of his and his dad's relationship wasn't his fault. His dad crossed the line at his girls' funeral.

He couldn't claim his dad hadn't exactly tried to patch things up. The man had tried to send letters and left voice messages. He just hadn't responded to any of it.

His dad's face at the funeral popped into his head and he paused his arms stilled against the boat. His dad had cried more than he had. He didn't have the energy to shed any more tears. He had been so spent and empty by the time the funeral came. The funeral had been held off for a couple weeks while he came out of his coma and healed enough to travel home and be in attendance. He'd spent all his energy traveling home, just to be greeted by an empty and lifeless house—taunted and surrounded by his girls' things everywhere. Taunted by the fact that he hadn't been there with them, that the house was practically foreign to him even though it had been home to them. He was practically ambushed by Shannon's parents, suffocated by them and other people trying to plan the funeral when he was still just trying to wrap his head around the fact that his wife and little girl were gone. He'd had less time to grieve than all of them, and he was in no condition to handle it at all well.

The one person he thought he could count on then was his dad. His dad wouldn't blame him like Shannon's parents. His dad would understand what it was like to lose a wife.

But then his dad showed up with another woman—so while he stood in front of his girls' caskets, watching them be lowered into a grave with only his crutches to lean on—his dad had someone else to lean on and wipe his tears. He felt like everyone there was rubbing it in his face. They all had someone, while he had just lost everyone. He was abandoned.

He threw the screwdriver in his hand on the floor, hearing it clatter and roll a little as he slammed his hand against the boat. He took a deep breath, trying to shake the image of his dad's tear ridden face out of his mind.

It had been irritating that day, seeing his dad cry and everyone else. Seeing that woman soothe his dad. It was his loss, he was the one who was hurting beyond imagination, he was the one who had to pick up the pieces, and he found himself doing it alone. He knew it was partially his own fault, he had shut people out. He was good at shutting people out.

He grit his teeth. That was exactly what he was doing with Jenny right now. Shutting her out like he'd done several times before. He couldn't afford to do it again.

They were together now, and he had already made up his mind that they were going to stay that way. If she wanted his dad to be involved, if she really wanted to meet him, then he would cooperate—even if it felt like pulling all of his teeth one by one with no anesthesia. He sure as hell didn't like the idea of crawling back to his dad, especially setting foot in that godforsaken town again.

But for her, he'd do anything.

Damn woman.

He wasn't going to apologize to his dad though.

He let out another breath and bent over, retrieving his screwdriver. He put it back where it belonged before he dusted himself off and put the bourbon away. He made his way up the stairs and peeked in the living room, not seeing her, and then made his way up the stairs. He was surprised to not see her in the bedroom, and even more surprised when he checked the bathrooms and didn't find her. He even tried the soon-to-be nursery, but no luck. He furrowed his brows and checked out the window, realizing her car was gone. He was amazed that he hadn't heard her leave. She was either really quiet or he had been way too in his own head.

He let out a frustrated sigh and went back down the stairs, seeing a note by the key bowl. He gave the note a glare. He didn't exactly have good experience with Jen's notes. He picked it up.

Jethro,

Needed some space. I'll see you again tomorrow.

He didn't hesitate to grab his keys and head out the door.


She was sitting in her father's chair, the scans abandoned on the corner of her desk as she flipped through the dusty family album she'd dug out from the top of the bookshelf. The little box containing the pictures she'd saved from Paris was open on her desk, some of the pictures scattered on the wood. She smoothed her finger along her dad's face in the picture she was looking at. He was younger than she remembered. He was holding her seven-year-old self in his arms, and he had such a happy twinkle in his eye. He'd just gotten back from a deployment. Her mother was a different story, any picture that still included her seemed less genuine. Her mom looked more vacant, like she was forcing herself to smile.

It scared Jenny whenever she thought about herself and how she felt about getting pregnant and having a baby. She worried she would become her mom. She didn't want to be vacant, bored, or dismissive. She didn't want to be obsessed with herself and her own wants and end up neglecting her kid. She wanted her little boy to love her, and she wanted to love him. She wanted to be involved, and she wanted everything to work out with their family, even if it had been unexpected and unwanted at first.

She knew that Jethro would be an excellent father. She knew he must have been an excellent one before. He really did remind her of her father the more she thought about it, and she had a feeling he'd be just as loved by their child as she had loved her father.

She just hoped she could be a good parent too, and she really hoped she and Jethro could actually maintain some kind of functional relationship together. The last thing this boy needed was parents who couldn't get their shit together, who make him miserable just by watching them. Jenny had seen that with her own parents, and she didn't want to subject her child to it. But her and Jethro's track record wasn't the best, they had a hard time keeping peace for very long.

She didn't understand why everything felt so right but so hard at the same time.

She wondered for a moment if he and Shannon had any disagreements or fights. She wondered if she'd ever compare in his eyes.

She felt like she was understanding some of what his ex-wives had gone through—playing second fiddle to a dead wife and daughter was impossible. She knew he would never get over it. She knew that was a loss he would carry forever. She understood why and she knew she didn't have any right to feel frustrated by it—but she did.

She looked past the book in her lap and looked at one of the pictures of her and Jethro on her desk. They were young and smiling, sitting in front of some fountain in Europe. She relished that lustful look in his eyes and the youthful hunger that seemed to sizzle between them. Back when she didn't know about his past or the reason for the pain that he tried so hard to mask. They were just themselves, lost in each other and the work. There was no expectation.

Fun as that had all been, it didn't work out in the end. There is only so long you can go on ignoring the world and real pains. It always catches up. Just like there is only so long you can go on ignoring growing feelings and emotions. She had ended up invested in him beyond her will, falling in love with him.

It would have done them so much good back then to actually know truths. To actually really know about each other. It didn't matter now, the past was the past and they had clearly been too immature back then to actually cope with it all. They were remedying that now.

But knowing made it so much harder too, because it wasn't easy. Navigating the wounds that would forever impact them and trying to grow together was harder than expected.

She remembered just how hard it had impacted her when she found out about his wife and daughter during his coma. The realization that she hadn't known him anywhere near as well as she thought she had. It had been a brutal slap to the face. Like everything she thought she'd known about him was just her own fantasy.

It wasn't like she had been any more open about her past with him either. But a dead father and neglectful mother didn't really compare in her eyes. Losing a spouse and child was on a whole different level.

She glanced to the picture beside it, smiling at the Serbia memory and how young and in love she was. It was the picture that had brought them back together, and could honestly be blamed for the protruding mass coming out of her abdomen. She had no idea back in that moment back then, that when he took that picture of her it would lead to them having a child so many years later.

She wasn't surprised when she heard her front door click and open, but she was a little annoyed. She almost regretted him talking her into giving him a key weeks ago. He'd used that whole excuse of "in case something happens" like an emergency with her and the baby.

She sighed, stilling herself for a possible argument. She didn't know what he apparently didn't understand about her needing space. She was worried she was going to snap too much at him right now. She wasn't in the right mindset, and she knew she had pissed him off.

"I don't want space," he announced as he walked in.

"I didn't ask if you want space, I said I need space," she replied casually, ignoring him as she flipped to the next page of the family photo album.

He seemed to hesitate, like he wasn't sure what to do next. Perhaps it was because he was as surprised as she was that they weren't being as stand-offish as they used to be. They weren't yelling or demanding or begging for a fight. They were tense, but not angry. What annoyed her even more is that she was actually glad he was here despite her asking for space. He cared enough to come after her, and he was attempting to communicate.

She heard him finally move, slowly making his way over to her behind the desk. He went behind her and paused.

"That your dad?"

She nodded in response to the quiet question, feeling suddenly like she was sharing some secret that she had needed to get off her chest. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and that sent her over the edge. She had already been tender looking through these and remembering her dad—but something about him being here heightened it. The picture of her dad that her eyes were resting on was blurred and she blinked, letting the tears slip out. She placed her hand over his.

She flipped to the next page with her free hand, her eyes landing on the first picture, her toddler self asleep on her dad's lap while he worked at this very desk. She felt his hand squeeze on her shoulder.

"Gotta be you."

She nodded again, smiling sadly while a couple more tears slipped out.

"Explains a lot."

"I miss him," she whimpered, squeezing his hand harder.

"I know."

And with that he let her cry. He stood there as support for her if she needed it, but he let her mourn, and she was grateful. She eventually put the book down on the desk with the other pictures and stood up, seeking solid comfort as she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his shoulder. His hand smoothed down her short hair while he held her.

"You're right," he whispered.

"About what?" Her response was muffled into his shoulder.

"We'll tell my dad."

She moved her head to the side, resting her cheek against him, thinking about it. She felt like she had been unreasonable just because she'd been missing her own dad. It was unfair to him—it was his family, not hers.

"I don't want to push you into it if you really don't want to. I overreacted."

"Whatever makes you happy, Jen."

"I don't want you to give into things and feel like you have to appease me just because I get hormonal and ridiculous and cry. I don't want you to feel sorry for me."

"Not 'cause of that."

"Sure it isn't," she huffed sarcastically, annoyed at herself for being like this.

"It's 'cause I love you, Jenny."

She balled her fists against his back, gripping his shirt. He–did he really just say…? Of his own volition? She hadn't prompted him. She certainly hadn't said it to him, not after the last time.

That'll be the day.

She was half tempted to throw that asinine comment right back in his face.

"You okay?" He sounded nervous, and she realized he was probably asking because she'd been paralyzed against him.

She looked up at him, swallowing. "You've never said that to me before."

He sighed, looking away and scratching the back of his neck, clearly feeling out of his element.

"Should've," he grumbled, looking back down at her. Then he shrugged. "Thought it was kinda obvious by now."

Obvious? Of course he would think that.

She sighed and buried her head into his chest, hiding her wide smile from his view as she hugged him a little tighter. She felt him stiffen against her and she looked up, seeing that he look put out and uncomfortable. She was about to question why when it hit her, and she had to work to contain a laugh. He wanted her to say it back. My, my, how the tables had turned.

"I thought it was obvious by now," she repeated. She raised an eyebrow at him and he shifted his feet a little, trying to look valiant.

She smiled at him, running a hand up his neck and onto his cheek. He unconsciously leaned into the touch.

"I loved you back then, Jethro, and I love you now."

She pulled him down into a kiss. He backed her up slightly, and then her butt hit the desk and there was a clutter as the piles of items on the desk shifted. A couple pictures fell to the ground and she pulled apart from him, remedying the mess. She put a hand on the desk and was about to bend over to get the pictures, but he stopped her and stooped down to get them himself. He admired the Serbian memory he picked up for a minute, smiling before he put the pictures back down.

He got into her personal space again, his nose brushing hers. "Come back home with me, Jen?"

"Hm. I don't know," she said loftily, smirking. "I didn't get much space. What's in it for me?"

"I'll make ya dinner. We can celebrate the male in me winning out." He glided his hand against the baby bump, kissing her again.


His team was excitedly rushing out after a long night, but he'd had a plan and it required Ziva. She knew about the whole situation, and she could help him with the searching goggles thingy.

"Ziva."

She was stopped from escaping her desk, looking up at him. He summoned her with his finger, indicating that he needed her to come to his desk. Tony and McGee were too distracted and happily packing up to notice.

She wandered over to his desk, looking at him curiously.

"Need your help on somethin'," he whispered. He gave her a look, and she seemed to understand that it had to do with Jenny.

"Ziva, you coming?" Tony asked as he and McGee left their desks. "Burrito shack closes in an hour."

"I will be right behind you. There is something I wish to discuss with Agent Gibbs."

They both shrugged and left, casting curious glances back. When they were gone he got up, motioning for Ziva to sit in his chair instead.

"I need help with this internet stuff."

"Okay. With what?"

"I need ya to go onto that goggle thingy and look up"—he stopped, looking around to make sure no one was close by or listening, and then lowered his voice—"need ya to look up wooden changing tables."

She paused, looking up at him. "What is a changing table?"

"For babies. You change their diapers on it."

"Oh, I see, you mean a" and then she said something out loud in Hebrew that sounded like complicated gibberish to him.

"Yeah…that."

She clicked on the computer and then typed. "Are you buying one for the Director?"

"No. I wanna make one. Gotta have a visual reference."

Some images popped up on the screen with a bunch of articles, and then she clicked again and the whole screen became different pictures of a whole variety of wooden changing tables. He squinted, leaning closer behind Ziva to see the screen better. He scanned through the pictures he saw, eliminating the ones he didn't like. He decided having one with drawers was much more practical than all the thin basic ones that had a lot of open space.

"Can you make that one larger?" he asked, pointing to one of the small pictures.

She clicked and he could see it better. He decided this one would be a good reference to use for his own. He liked the drawers and cabinets on it. He'd perhaps make the top part of it with the changing table more deep, he didn't want the baby rolling out.

"Can you print this?"

"Yes," she responded, clicking a few more times. The printer by the window made a whirring sound and he went over, picking it up and inspecting it. This should do the trick. It shouldn't be too hard, it was essentially like making a dresser but making the top different.

He went back over to her. "Thank you, Ziver. That's all I needed."

She clicked off of everything and turned the computer off, getting back up and giving him a big smile.

"You are very sweet, Gibbs."

He blushed, looking away. "Ah, get outta here."

She stopped, grabbing his arm and making him face her smile. "I am sure she will appreciate it."


He was in the basement, drawing up his blueprints. Jenny was working late, so he figured tonight was a good night to get started. The boat would be paused for some time, and he'd have to keep Jenny out of the basement. He didn't have as much room as he liked either, but the boat wasn't quite ready to dismantle either. It was very nearly finished, but he still had a few last steps for it. He'd have to move it all off to the side to make room for his new project.

He'd already dug out Kelly's bassinet from the attic a few days ago and re-sanded and re-polished any rough spots. It had held up pretty well over the years, and it had been good to relive the memories of when he had made it so long ago as he inspected it. It was covered in the corner of the basement, he just needed to move it up to the soon-to-be nursery and show Jenny.

He had debated making a crib too, but he was sure Jenny would want to buy some elegant and ridiculously expensive one. She had a fancier kind of taste than he did.

The last time he'd gone to this much work to make anything and plan it all out was when he was at Mike's place in Mexico. He had spent weeks working on projects and fixing up the house. He had been drawing up plans for a teak hot tub before he left.

He shook his head, thinking of all the good lumber he had wasted to fix that dog rot house.

He wondered how Mike was doing. He hadn't talked to him since before he'd found out about the pregnancy. Perhaps it was time to catch up. He was probably asking for trouble. He could see the man flying down and giving him a good slap. Mike and Jenny hadn't exactly been fond of each other.

He put his pencil down, surveying what he'd drawn up, deciding it would be good to take a break. Mike wasn't much of a talker, much like himself, so it wouldn't be too long of a conversation. He got up and looked around for his phone, finding it buried in some of the stuff he'd gotten out on the counter. He flipped it open, squinting as he dialed the number of the cantina. He had a feeling Mike would probably be there about now.

"Buenas noches. Eduardo's Cantina. Le habla Camila."

"Hola, Camila. It's Jethro Gibbs."

"Señor Gibbs." The flirty tone in her voice certainly hadn't changed since he'd last seen her. He could see her smile in the back of his mind and he couldn't help but smile too. "I am guessing you are calling for Miguel."

"Yeah."

He heard her put the phone down and call out for Mike.

"Whoever it is, tell 'em I'm not here."

Yup, he was right. Mike was definitely in the cantina.

"Take the teléfono, viejo pendejo. It is Señor Gibbs."

He could hear Mike grumbling and getting closer to the phone.

"What the hell you callin' me for, probie?"

"Good to hear you too, Mike."

"Don't you start. I got money on this game."

He shook his head. "Just figured I'd check in on ya."

"That it? Seriously?"

"Yeah."

He heard the man grumble again, and the sound of a glass hit the counter. The faint noise of some sports game was in the background. The signal wasn't the best, and sometimes things sounded weak or like static.

"Prolly doin' better than you. Not stuck in some stuffy office. Get to drink beer, relax, fish, and sit on the beach."

"How's the fishin'?"

"Probie, I ain't got time to chit-chat. I know you didn't call to talk fishin'. Whatever it is, spit it out."

He probably should just cut to the chase.

"Thought I'd let you know I'm gonna be a dad again."

The silence lasted a hot minute.

"You ain't jokin', are ya."

"Nope."

"Ha!" He heard Mike move the phone away from himself, laughing for a while. "Who's the lucky lady?"

He grit his teeth for a moment, bracing himself for the next reaction before he confessed. "Jenny."

He heard Mike go into a coughing fit, clearly choking on his drink.

"You tellin' me you knocked up that lady director of yours, probie?"

"Yeah."

"You've gotta be kiddin' me. Ya left retirement to go get yourself a kid and a bossy woman? You're gonna be workin' another 30 years."

He chuckled. "Yeah, guess so."

He heard Mike pull the phone away a bit. "Hey, mi bonita!"

"Q?"

"Your man Jethro got some lady pregnant."

"I am not surprised. He is muy guapo."

"Handsome? Don't make me laugh. He's got the ugliest mug I've ever seen."

He listened to Camila chew Mike out in Spanish, before Mike chuckled and finally came back on the phone. "Tell me you didn't marry this one too."

"Nope."

"Good, don't do it. You should know better by now. Learn from your and my mistakes."

He shook his head in amusement. He figured he'd change the subject and not mention to Mike that he intended to marry Jenny, when the time was right for her. "We're havin' a boy."

"A boy, huh? Good for you, probie, good for you. Kid might be strong enough to push your ass around in your wheelchair when he grows up."

"You mean your ass, Mike. You're the old one here."

"Nuh-uh. I'm gonna be dead by then. I ain't stickin' 'round longer than I have to."

"Just so long as you stick around long enough to teach my kid your fishin' tricks."

"Kid is gonna need to grow up fast then. 'M closer to death every day."

"He'll be here in about 20 weeks. That soon enough for ya?"

Mike chuckled. "I s'pose so. Gonna need to tell my pickled liver to hold on a bit." Loud cheering erupted in the background. Someone must have scored in the game. He heard Mike curse. "Hey, I gotta go. Holler at me when your kid gets here."

"Don't get up to too much trouble, Mike."

"Don't go gettin' any more crazy women pregnant, Probie."

With that the line clicked, leaving Jethro to chuckle to himself.

His father and mentor figures were taken care of, Ducky and Mike, as well as his one friend (if you could call Tobias that). Now he just needed to tell his actual father.