The first week back from Stillwater hadn't exactly been pleasant for either of them. On his first morning back bright and early Tuesday morning, he'd nearly had a knife go through his head. He made a mental note to never walk in on the knife throwing training he was letting Ziva do with the team. Agent Lee was apparently incapable of throwing it forward.
They'd gotten a case that kept them busy, and he'd gotten into a spat with Jenny when there was a jurisdiction issue and Lee wouldn't get him a warrant, because apparently he needed a witness. Jenny hadn't backed down and sided with Lee, so he'd been forced to play by the ridiculous rules.
The second day back was Valentines Day, and his case was causing troubles. He'd managed to get some roses to Jen in the morning—no chocolates because she'd been strict about her sugar intake after her cravings had apparently freaked her out. He had a nice late dinner reservation planned, which ended up being canceled when the undercover sting he and his team were doing resulted in a cop being shot and killed, and a woman dying from a broken neck. He was just damn glad it wasn't Tony who had been shot. The whole thing had resulted in a mess for both him and Jenny to deal with. So much for him thinking he was smart by making it a late reservation.
None of this was helped by the fact that for the rest of the week there was a bout of flu that had started spreading, and various people were sick in the building all week after they'd gotten back. Some had it mild, others sounded like they were coughing up lungs and looked like hell and had to be sent home. He'd heard of one person in the building ending up in the ER from how bad theirs was.
He wasn't at all worried he'd get it. He didn't get sick. It was just annoying to be surrounded by, and he dreaded his team members getting it and whining. DiNozzo would be unbearable.
It was when Monday rolled around the next week that he'd woken up to Jenny moaning, and not the good kind of moaning.
"I don't feel so good."
The raspy sound of her voice was more than enough to signal that she'd come down with the same flu as everyone else. He sighed and sat up, tilting his head down to look at her. He pressed his hand to her forehead.
"Got a fever," he commented.
"I know."
He pushed himself out of bed and went to get her some Tylenol and water, grabbing her prenatal vitamins while he was at it. He returned and put the items on the nightstand by her.
"Take these," he instructed.
She moaned again, turning to her side and pushing herself up, looking at what he'd brought. "Thank you."
He watched her swallow down the pills and water. "Breakfast?"
She shook her head no.
"Gotta eat somethin'."
"I feel nauseous, I'm worried I'll throw up." She put her hand to her stomach and pressed her other hand to her head. He couldn't help but worry, not sure if it was worse for pregnant women to be sick.
"Baby seem okay?" he asked.
She cleared her throat and took another drink. "I'm sure he's fine. He was really active last night, kept me up with his movement. Definitely your son."
He regretted asking the question, because judging by the sound of her voice her throat must be killing her. He leaned down and kissed her head.
"Get some more rest. I'll go make something."
"I can't. I have to get ready for work."
"You're not goin' to work feelin' like that," he countered. "Call in."
"I can't, Jethro. I have to be there today."
"Jen—"
"I really can't," she snapped, her voice cracking at the end. She cleared her throat again and took another drink.
He clenched his jaw and took a breath. He knew it was pointless to argue, she was determined. He supposed he couldn't blame her. It was hard for him to take time off and leave his team, he knew it was a hundred times harder being the Director over entire teams of people spread over countries.
He'd heard the shower turn on upstairs as he looked around for things she could eat. He grabbed one of her yogurts in the fridge and looked around in the cupboard. He had a couple cans of soup. He put the can by the yogurt, figuring he'd let her decide what she wanted.
He got a bowl of cereal for himself, thinking about how this was probably going to be a bad week as he munched on it. One bad week to another. He really needed to squeeze in more time to get the changing table done and start figuring out the nursery with Jen. If she was sick very long, he had a feeling it would throw off the plans she had about dragging him shopping for baby stuff this week. That was maybe the only positive in all of this.
When they were ready and heading out the door he was glad to note that her voice at least sounded better, now that it wasn't dry from waking up. He insisted on driving her since she was sick, and he didn't miss the fact that she was much more quiet and tired than usual. He made sure she made it inside the building safely with her detail, and then he took the walk to the coffee cart to get his fuel.
He glanced at his watch when he walked back to the building with his coffee in tow, making sure he was still early. Goodness knows he didn't need DiNozzo stirring up anything if he was later than them. The agent had been a little too questioning about his "fishing trip" and trying to snoop. He'd dropped the word "Stillwater" a couple times randomly—clearly they had pinged his phone. Thank heavens the case they'd gotten right after he'd come home had sufficiently distracted everyone.
Luckily for Jenny, the office had grown bored of her pregnancy. They were still mildly curious about the circumstances and if she would be Director much longer, but it was a pretty dead topic overall. Much like how people were curious about a relationship when it was in its early stages, but got sick of it by the time they were used to it. The only person who seemed the least bit curious anymore was DiNozzo, which wasn't a surprise. He had continually tried to inquire of Gibbs who the undercover JB was, or if there was any reason for them to be involved with the CIA on a case.
He was surprised when he made it into the bullpen to see Ziva already there.
"Ziva," he greeted.
"Gibbs. I see that the Director is under the clouds."
He paused for a minute, furrowing his eyebrows. "Weather," he corrected.
"She has the sickness, yes?"
"Yeah."
He put his coat on the back of his chair and put everything away before he stared at Ziva.
"You are staring," she muttered.
"What are ya doin' here so early?"
"I am always early."
"Not this early."
"I had nothing else to do."
He realized that really was the reason she was here, and it reminded him so much of himself. Having no one at home but yourself, using work to occupy you and drive you. He tore his eyes away from her, hoping she would find a normalcy in life that wasn't just work. He didn't want her to be like him, and he wished she hadn't been forced to grow up so harshly. Hopefully she could be presented with a better future that she would embrace. He knew from experience that one could function without a family—but functioning wasn't living.
His whole team needed lives outside of work—which brought up a good question. He glanced around, making sure no one would see him gossiping like some girl.
"Ziva," he whispered. She looked at him. "DiNozzo still datin' that nurse?"
She smirked. "No. Apparently she fell in love with a doctor."
He looked over to DiNozzo's desk, amazed he didn't know. Amazed Jenny hadn't mentioned it either. "When?"
"A while ago. Before you and the Director visited your father."
His brows furrowed. Seriously, how did he not know? Surely he would have noticed a heartbroken DiNozzo…?
"You have been distracted," Ziva commented, clearly observing his internal struggle.
Had he really been so distracted that he'd lost his observant edge? He thought about how he'd treated DiNozzo lately and felt a little bad.
"Gibbs."
He looked over to her.
"Tony is fine. It is better to be treated normal by other people. It makes one feel safe, yes?"
He gave a nod to her assurance and the elevator dinged, opening up to reveal the two team members they were missing.
"It's called fun, Probie," DiNozzo scoffed as they entered the bullpen.
"We have different ideas of fun," McGee retorted.
"Ziva, tell McScaredy he's wrong."
"You have not told me why he should be."
"DiNozzo," Gibbs interrupted.
The agent winced, looking to him. "Yeah, boss?"
"That waitress who saw Corporal Adams fighting at the bar on Saturday, we need to know if she's seen anything else since then."
"Okay. So…?"
"So, I want you to go talk to her."
DiNozzo's mouth dropped open. "You want me to go to talk to her? Me…to talk to the hot waitress?"
"Did it sound like a question?" Gibbs demanded, wondering why he was making this so damn hard.
"No, no Boss, it didn't. Sorry, sir. I'll go right now." DiNozzo's face lit up, grabbing what he needed and taking off.
Gibbs looked away from Ziva's knowing smirk.
By the time Wednesday rolled around he was really worried about Jenny. She definitely had the flu and she was definitely getting worse. He'd hardly seen her eat anything, and she'd started throwing up Tuesday night. She refused to stay home even though she looked like death and couldn't seem to keep anything down. That refusal had resulted in a yelling match between them before work (well, a one-sided yelling match, because she couldn't actually yell with her voice). Her detail had taken her in and he'd just spent the rest of the morning mad and worried. She already burned herself out at work as it was, this just added too much onto it. He made sure to check on her during lunch the last couple days, always attempting to get her to go home when he did. It was usually met with the response that she had already taken time off recently and was behind and they couldn't afford for the Director to be away much more.
Wednesday evening he and his team marched back into the bullpen after finishing up in interrogation, met with the sight of her sitting in his desk chair.
"Uh-oh," Tony muttered. "We're in trouble."
Gibbs marched up to his desk, raising an eyebrow.
"Special Agent Gibbs," she greeted hoarsely. "I got a call, and it seems you have strayed into jurisdiction that is not yours."
"Started in mine," he countered.
She sighed and put her fingers up to her head. He could see she was feeling beyond ill, and he just wished she would give up her stupid pretense already and go home. She needed to quit pretending she was fine when she wasn't. She got up from the chair gingerly and glared at him.
"Please just play by the rules and quit making this harder than it needs to be," she said.
He didn't give her an answer and she rolled her eyes, making her way out from his desk. She marched forward a few steps, and that was when he saw it—the sway in her posture. She paused, her body swaying again as she reached out to try and grab something. "Jethro…" she breathed out as he was already halfway to her. He'd barely made it to her in time to catch her, her body slumping heavily against his as her face went lifeless.
It was like slow motion, he couldn't hear his team's noises of alarm, all he could hear was the pounding in his ears as he feared the worst. He bent down, his knees aching as he lowered them down and held her in his arms, looking at her face and seeing how she was.
"Jen? Jen? Jenny!" he rushed out, tapping her face lightly and trying to get her to wake up. She was burning up, hot to the touch as his fingers slid against the perspiration. Her eyelids fluttered open weakly, her eyes meeting his for a brief second before they closed again. "You're gonna be okay, hang on, Jen."
Truth was, he really wasn't sure if she was going to be okay. He looked up, finally registering the people panicking around him. Ziva was bent down holding Jenny's wrist, keeping track of her pulse. Tony was with 911. McGee was looking petrified by Tony.
"I'm taking her in myself," he snapped at Tony. He positioned her into his arms and scooped her up, ignoring the protest of his knees as he stood up.
"I'll get the car," Ziva said, grabbing the keys and running ahead of him to the elevator.
"Tony, tell Cynthia and tell her to inform SecNav," he ordered as he left the bullpen with Jenny passed out in his arms. "McGee, let Ducky know."
Thanks to Ziva's crazy driving and them using the lights, they got to the hospital in record time. Jenny would wake up slightly at points, seeming confused and saying his name before she'd close her eyes again. They were met at the emergency entrance by several workers who were clearly prepared after Tony's call. They got Jenny onto a gurney and asked Jethro all about her age and condition as they rushed inside and left Ziva to park the car. He felt like he was in some alternate universe and everything was rushing around him, like he couldn't keep up properly with the questions. Jenny was incoherent and stressed any time she opened her eyes.
They'd taken her into a room and started to assess her vitals and take her blood. They asked him who her obstetrician was and then paged for Doctor Landis the second after he answered. He held Jenny's hand, trying to soothe her.
"What's your relationship to the patient?" a nurse asked him.
"Husband," he lied effortlessly. He wasn't going to be shut out just because they weren't actually married. They were as good as.
"Come with me please, I'm going to need you to fill this out," she said, ushering him out of the room. He grudgingly pulled his hand away from Jenny's as the people bustled about her. All he could do was cast a glance back at her as he was pulled out of the room. "Her records are already at this hospital, she was just here a month ago."
"Sorry, sir. It's just standard procedure to make sure things are as up to date as possible."
He filled out the forms to the best of his knowledge, realizing he was unsure on various questions and details. She was the one who normally filled these things out for herself. Ziva found him and sat beside him, her poker face not hiding her worry.
"Do they know anything?" she asked.
"I don't know."
He was beyond frustrated. He didn't want to sit here, he wanted to make sure she was okay. She'd been sick and he hoped it was related to that, but he was worried it could be more. The last time he'd seen her collapse like that was in the Czech Republic after she'd taken a round in the thigh. Granted, that time had been much more dramatic and dangerous with a lot of blood and shooting, but she had been younger and so feisty he hadn't been as worried. This time she was carrying precious cargo, and he loved her more than he could handle.
"I told her to stay home," he grunted out. He should have forced her. He should have called in for her and made her stay at home. She should have been resting.
"She does not like to stay put," Ziva said quietly. "Just like us."
He clenched his teeth and signed the form, getting up to hand it to the nurse. "I need to see her."
"If you would please just wait there, they need to finish assessing and we'll get you directly."
"I need to see her right now," he demanded.
"I'm sorry, sir, this is standard proce—"
"Don't say you're sor—"
"Gibbs." Ziva said loudly, cutting him off and placing her hand on his arm. "Come."
He sighed in frustration and walked back to the chairs with Ziva. He knew they were all just doing their jobs, but he hated the feel of hospitals. He didn't like feeling shut out and not knowing.
"We are the ones who need to listen and stay put now," Ziva said gently. "There is nothing we can do for the Director."
He gave a nod. She was right. He sat in the chair stiffly, trying to shut out the worry, trying to shut out the sounds of people talking and coughing, the hospital phones, the beeping, the smell of plastic and antiseptic. Ziva's phone went off and she answered, letting Tony or whoever it was know that they didn't know anything.
It felt like hours that they sat there in silence, and he was about ready to knock over everyone in his way and barge into that room to make sure she was okay.
"Jethro Gibbs?"
He got up immediately at the voice and nodded to the woman holding the clipboard. He cast a glance at Ziva who nodded in assurance and stayed put. He followed the woman down the halls, feeling turned around in the large environment that all looked the same.
"Your wife is okay," she assured him. He let out a breath, not realizing he had been holding it in this entire time. "Her blood pressure was very low and she was dehydrated. This flu season has been hard on some people, and pregnancy can make women even more susceptible to the worse symptoms."
They entered a room and a young male doctor shook Gibbs' hand, introducing himself and going into the details of what they had tested and what they were doing to treat Jenny. Her blood and urine tests didn't indicate anything too serious and they'd done IV fluids, antiviral medication, some oxygen. They'd determined it was nothing too serious from an ultrasound. Gibbs half paid attention, more concerned about how Jenny was actually doing as he glanced over the doctor's shoulder to where she was, laying asleep in the bed.
"The baby okay?" he cut in.
"Yes. Doctor Landis performed an examination and signed off. The baby is healthy and doing well. We just need to monitor the mother and baby overnight to make sure both of them stay that way. Get her temperature and blood pressure stable, get her hydrated, and make sure she is lucid."
Gibbs nodded, still unnerved by the delirious state Jenny had been in. "So she's going to be okay?"
"Yes, Mr. Gibbs. We'll release her to recover at home in the morning if everything is stable. We'll want you or someone else to monitor her, make sure she gets in fluids and gets sleep. With her being pregnant and getting this ill, I'm recommending a week of home recovery and rest."
The thought of informing her she'd have to stay home from work for a whole week with nothing to do made him wince. She'd love that.
Gibbs thanked him, shaking his hand again before he left. They'd changed Jenny into a gown and she was fast asleep. There were two monitors, and he realized one was the baby's. He stared at it for a second, seeing the heartbeat moving steady. He put his hand on Jenny's forehead, it wasn't as hot as it had been before. He breathed a sigh of relief, glad they were both okay. He kissed her forehead and rested his nose there, breathing her in. He needed to go tell Ziva she was okay and send her back to report and finish up.
"I'll be back, Jen," he whispered, kissing her head again. He brushed his hand fleetingly across her pregnant belly before he left.
She had scared the living hell out of him. He didn't think he could take something like this again. The thought of losing her, or losing them both…it terrified him beyond words. What if he hadn't caught her? What if she'd fainted on the stairs? What if she had been alone in her office and no one knew?
He never liked how he couldn't keep an eye on things at all times. Anything can happen at any time, and that was what scared him the most about life. He hadn't been around when Shannon and Kelly had died. He hadn't been able to protect them. He'd seen so many others perish at the drop of a hat, no warning. He just hoped to hell that wasn't in the cards for Jenny or their son. He was trying his best to be there and be present, to protect them, but situations like this showed him how some things were just beyond his control. He knew he should just be grateful she was okay and that it hadn't been something worse.
Ziva stood up and stared at him as he entered the waiting room, standing almost at attention as if preparing for the worst.
"She's okay," he said. "They both are. They've gotta keep her overnight."
"That is good," Ziva said, her posture relaxing a little.
"Go back to the office and help DiNozzo and McGee. Let them all know Jenny is okay. Tell Tony he's on point, I'm gonna be out of the office for at least a few days, maybe a week."
Ziva nodded and turned to leave.
"Hey," he said, making her stop. He went up gave her a one arm hug, pecking her cheek. "Thank you."
She was stiff, shocked by the affectionate gesture, and when he pulled back and smiled at her he could see the uncertain emotion in her eyes. She gave a small smile. "Tell Jenny to get better."
He sighed as he watched her leave. He didn't exactly love the idea that he was going to be in this hospital all night, but he was also glad they were monitoring her. It was only nineteen hundred, so it was going to be a while. He navigated the halls and elevator, making his way back to the room.
When he got there he moved the chair in the corner of the room to the side of her bed, settling down into it and camping out by her. He grabbed her hand loosely, rubbing his thumb soothingly across the soft skin on the back of her hand, left to his anxious thoughts.
If she got sick again, he was putting her on house arrest. Hell, he'd put her on house arrest for the duration of the pregnancy if he needed to.
He flipped through another magazine aimlessly. It drove him nuts that he couldn't be doing something. He'd only been sitting by her bed for two hours and he was already feeling beyond useless. He'd paced the halls and gotten a snack from the vending machine earlier, and it did nothing to ease his anxiety. The chair was probably going to be hell on his back and neck during the night, but he refused to leave. He was pretty sure the only reason the nurses were allowing him to stay overnight was because he was an Agent, and Jenny was a high-profile Navy leader. Many of his personal items were still sitting at his desk at work, including his phone. But at least that prevented him from getting interrupted by pointless calls.
Jenny moaned and shifted in her sleep and he watched her alertly. Her eyes opened drowsily and he stood up immediately, looking at her better and wrapping his hands around hers.
"Jethro."
He smiled, glad to see her awake and coherent. "Hey. You okay?"
She blinked and looked around, reaching her hand up and feeling the little oxygen tubes in her nose, before she pulled her hand back and stared at the IV in her elbow. She tilted her head, looking at him groggily in confusion. "What happened?" she rasped.
"You fainted."
"I remember feeling dizzy…" she muttered. She suddenly gasped in alarm, startling him as she pulled her hand out of his and moved it to her stomach. "The baby, is he okay?"
"He's fine," he soothed. "Look." He pointed to the monitor.
She stared at the monitor for a few seconds and then sighed loudly in relief. "Thank God."
He placed his hand over hers, brushing his thumb across her knuckles. "You scared the hell out of me," he admitted, his emotions teetering.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "What did they say is wrong with me?"
"Low blood pressure. Dehydration. Exhaustion. You overdid it, Jen. Too sick to be at work."
"I didn't mean to. I didn't think it'd get this bad. Usually I'm fine when I'm sick."
"Usually you're not pregnant."
"I'm so stupid," she threw out in anger.
"You're not—"
"Jethro," she gasped, "I could have hurt him. I'm so damn selfish."
Moisture welled in her eyes, and it was enough to make him feel bad about being angry with her for not listening when he told her to stay home from work.
"This is why I won't be a good mother. This is why I never wanted kids. I get focused on myself and I don't think about others. I didn't want to be a neglectful bitch like my mother but I'm already there."
He was so shocked by the absurdity of it that he didn't know what to say. He watched the tears slip down her cheeks as she put both of her hands on her stomach and took a shuddering breath.
"Jenny…" he shook his head in disbelief "you…you are not a bad mother. You hear me?"
"I am," she whimpered.
"If you were a bad mother, you wouldn't give a damn about him," he snapped. "You care. You're a good mom, and you're gonna be even better when he's here."
She closed her eyes and shook her head, not believing him as her hands cradled her stomach.
He sighed. "Look. He's gonna get hurt sometimes. Sometimes it's gonna be our fault. No parent is perfect and you can't always protect 'em."
"Could you hand me the tissues?" she asked quietly, ignoring what he'd said. He handed them to her, remembering an experience with Shannon, when she'd worried about hurting Kelly.
"One time Shannon was changin' Kelly and she'd forgotten the wipes," he started to share, Jenny immediately turning her attention to him. "She turned her back for a second to grab 'em, an' Kelly rolled off the changin' table onto the floor. Bruised her head pretty good. Shannon ended up cryin' more than Kelly in the end." He smiled sadly at the memory, giving a low chuckle. He looked at Jenny and shrugged. "Things happen. Sometimes we do somethin' we think is okay and we end up hurtin' our kid. We don't mean to hurt 'em. It's just life. We learn from it an' move on."
"What if I don't do enough?" she asked quietly.
"You'll never feel like you do," he admitted. "We'll never feel good enough as parents. Just comes with the territory. What matters is that you want to try. You're already givin' him all you can right now, just by luggin' 'im around all the time."
She closed her eyes again, more tears squeezing out and rolling down her cheeks. She wiped her eyes, shaking her head at herself in frustration again.
"Thank you," she choked out. "Thank you for being patient with me."
He sighed internally, pulling her hand to his lips and kissing it. He should be the one thanking her. She'd been the one who'd put up with him all this time. She'd been the patient one. In Europe. Him getting her pregnant and her not wanting to tell him because she was worried it would be an inconvenience to him. Her helping him get through, like when she showed up on Thanksgiving and he was blind drunk—even though it should have been him helping her through. Her patience with the things he still struggled emotionally with, like Shannon and Kelly, or his dad.
He couldn't ever describe to her just how grateful he was that she was even with him in the first place, much less the fact that she was having his child. The fact she was going through with it when it wasn't what she had wanted was a sacrifice he was grateful for. He knew how irreplaceable the gift of life was. It could be gone in the blink of an eye.
He didn't deserve Jenny. He never had. She had always been too good for him. He hadn't even blamed her when she left him in Europe, because deep down he knew it was better for her. Yet here she was, putting up with him and pregnant with his kid. She didn't deserve to be stuck with him.
She thought she was selfish, but she had one of the warmest hearts he knew. She didn't think she had what it took to be a mom, but she already babysat hundreds of people every day at work.
"You're better than you know," he finally said, stroking her hair. "Get some more sleep."
He soothed her until she drifted off again, keeping her hand in his and thinking about how much he couldn't bear to lose her.
He let out an appreciative moan feeling the comforting fingers brushing through his hair, but it was quickly replaced by a pained groan. He opened his eyes, remembering why his body was hurting so much. His head was on Jenny's bed by her hip, his body bent over painfully since his butt was seated in the chair by her bed. He was pretty sure if he tried to sit up straight, his spine was going to split in half.
He tried to ignore the way his body protested and turned his head to look at Jenny.
"How ya feelin'?"
"By the sounds of it, better than you," she replied.
He grunted in agreement, smiling at her. He reached out, brushing his hand across her stomach and resting it there. The compromised position he'd slept in certainly hadn't left him rested. The beeping sounds and the hospital noise didn't help either, nor did the nurses who would come in and check on things in the night. Not that the nurses were being noisy at all, he was just a little too alert when he slept, especially in environments he wasn't used to.
He sighed, willing himself to get up, feeling his body crack in protest as he straightened out. He winced at the strain in his lower back and neck.
"You feelin' any better?" he asked insistently, blinking the blur out of his eyes as he gave her a good look.
"Mm," she nodded, "definitely not as bad as yesterday."
He pressed his hand to her head, she wasn't feverish. He gave a nod of approval and then flipped his hand, caressing her cheek and brushing his thumb across it. She moved her palm over the back of his hand, guiding his hand to her mouth and pressing a kiss to his palm.
A nurse came in soon after, followed by a different doctor, who all checked and assessed again. Within the next two hours, Jenny had permission to go home. She didn't protest over their recommendation for her to rest for a week, which was a first. He wondered if it had to do with the guilt she had felt so strongly last night.
Jenny walked into the bathroom to change, and he found himself watching her every step. He felt paranoid he was going to see her sway and collapse again. As soon as she closed herself in the bathroom he took a breath. It wasn't like she'd been in a horrible accident or had major surgery. He shouldn't be feeling this worried.
"Ah, I'm glad I caught you. I was worried I might be too late."
He turned around to the familiar voice at the door of the room.
"Tony sent me with these," Ducky held up one hand with his coat, and an evidence bag that had his phone and keys, "and Cynthia sent me with these," he held up his other hand with a purse and Jenny's coat. "Tony said he and Ziva dropped off your car last night and parked in row C4."
"Thanks, Duck," he responded, relieving the man of the items. He smirked at the evidence bag, grabbing the keys from it and then tossing the bagged phone into her purse. "Thank the team too."
"How is she?"
He glanced to the bathroom door. "She's okay. Shook her up a little. Gonna need to take it easy."
"I assume we will not be seeing either of you in the office for a few days?"
He gave a nod. "'Bout a week."
"Good. I'm glad you are taking care of her. Make sure she actually gets her rest and drinks plenty of water. I remember how stubborn both of you were as patients in Europe."
He smiled at the memories, giving a nod.
"And how are you?"
He looked at the doctor for a few seconds, and settled on a shrug. She'd shaken him up too, perhaps more than herself. He wasn't going to open up about it though.
"I'd be concerned if you weren't worried," Ducky said gently, reading him. "Well, I have bodies that need attending to, and I do not want to interfere. Give dear Jennifer my love."
"Thanks again, Duck. Bye."
Not long after Ducky left Jenny came out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to go home. She definitely seemed better than the last few days, but she was still sick and worn out. He questioned how the next few days were going to go, especially since she seemed depressed.
"Anyone know how Jenny is doing?" Tony asked, all of them seated at work. It was odd to him to not have the boss around. He'd gotten used to it months ago, gotten used to being the team leader by the end—but it really wasn't complete without him. The absence of Jenny made it feel even emptier. She'd at least been there when Gibbs had left.
"I am sure Ducky will tell us when he gets back," Ziva commented.
"I've never seen the boss like that," Tony said quietly. "Only time I've seen fear and worry like that was when Kate…" he cut himself off, those particular memories not very welcome to him.
"Yeah," McGee agreed.
"…but even then…" Tony said quietly, looking at the leader's desk. This was a kind of reaction he'd never seen from his boss before. Never. It was a whole different level of Gibbs that he was sure he'd never see again.
Silence fell on them as they all just stared at Gibbs' desk.
"So he really was the father this whole time," Tony mused, changing the subject a bit. "Here he was, acting as if he wasn't getting down and dirty with the Director all these months. Imagine, a kid with Gibbs and the Director's genes in it…" he shuddered. "Kid'll be drop dead gorgeous and have the ability to kill someone just by looking their direction. It's like the ultimate power genes. Like a human mutant."
"Like the X-Men?" McGee chipped in.
"I knew they had a past," he continued—completely ignoring McGee, who just rolled his eyes and went back to his work—"but I really was thinking the Director had gotten pregnant by someone else. Some wealthy guy she met while Gibbs was in Mexico. But it really was Gibbs all along. Just like Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr in An Affair to Remember. The ladies man and the sexy redhead, not able to be kept away from each other despite time and misunderstanding, because it was fate all along."
Ziva was the next one to roll her eyes. To her, anyone with half a brain would have picked up on it long ago. It wasn't a big deal either, and she didn't get why Tony was so fascinated. They had sex and now they were having a baby, like so many other humans do. It was honestly boring.
"So, how much are you going to make from your bets?" she asked.
"Nothing."
She raised an eyebrow.
"I'm giving everyone their money back and we're suspending all the pools involving the Director."
She was surprised and impressed, she hadn't been expecting that.
He looked at his screen, pretending to be distracted. Of course he was getting rid of that pool. He wasn't heartless. He liked to joke around, but he knew where to draw the line. Last night was a definite line. Seeing Jenny collapse like that, seeing Gibbs in that state of terror…
If something more serious had happened, if Jenny had died or lost the baby, he wouldn't have been able to live with the guilt of starting those pools in the first place.
"How long did you know about them?" he asked Ziva.
"From the start."
"Come on," he laughed, "you did not."
"If only you knew the stories she told me before she was Director."
"Really?" His jaw dropped open. "Tell me."
"No."
McGee laughed and Tony glared at him.
"I mean, were they together the entire time she was Director? Have they been going at it behind the scenes this whole time?"
"I guess you will never know."
"Ziiiivaa, come on! Give me something."
She merely smiled. She wasn't about to break confidence with Jenny or Gibbs. They were her superiors and Jenny was her friend, and she did not go against such trust.
She'd been thinking a lot, as well as sleeping. She wasn't sure she liked it. She'd been in limbo ever since she'd been released two days ago. She wasn't accustomed to spending all day in bed, but that had pretty much been her life now. It was an eerie reminder of when she'd been been shot in the Czech Republic, only that time had been much more painful. She was just sick this time, but the way Jethro was acting she may as well have been shot again. Actually, worse. He was acting as if she'd been shot multiple times, lost all her limbs, and been rendered paralyzed.
Granted, after her overdoing it and ending up in the hospital, she knew she couldn't blame him for the way he was acting.
Still, his hovering felt a bit stifling. He was always feeling her temperature, always leaving glass after glass of water and Gatorade on the nightstand, and always asking in his own Jethro way how she was feeling. Whatever food he made he would bring to her and eat with her, so that he could watch and make sure she was eating.
He'd taken her to his house without even a second thought after she'd been released, and that was when she realized that they really did live together at this point. They were at her house sometimes, but 85% of the time they were at his, and the majority of her hygiene products and clothes were in his place now. She hadn't agreed to move in with him at the beginning of January, but she'd basically done it without even really thinking about it.
Perhaps the most alarming aspect of it was that it wasn't disturbing to her. She felt like she was losing who she was. Like the foundation she had built all these years was being shattered. A year ago she would have killed at the idea of being tied down. Being tied down to a man, and having a kid and settling down. But in the last six months she had gotten pregnant and ended up slowly moving in with a man.
And now here she was, laying in bed when she should be at work, questioning her sanity because the thought of quitting her job had actually crossed her mind in the last 24 hours. Jennifer Shepard, Director of NCIS, sarcastically self-proclaimed schizoid libber who had worked her ass off for the past two decades to get where she was…had actually considered stepping down. This sickness had clearly gone to her head.
She knew deep down what had really sparked that thought. It wasn't her head, it was the little guy moving around down below. She hadn't been attached when she'd gotten pregnant, she had never wanted a kid—but she'd grown very fond of her bodily roommate. She had spent the last day feeling so guilty over how she'd treated her body the last week. If she'd lost him…she wouldn't have been able to forgive herself. She'd grown accustomed to the tiny kicks and movements that sometimes kept her up at night. He was part of her.
And then there was Jethro…he wouldn't have been able to forgive her either. She'd seen how much she had scared him. With his history, he had good reason to be worried.
All of this was just making her overthink and worry about so many future things. Things beyond her control or too far ahead to deal with now. She blamed all this resting. This was why she liked work, why she liked to be kept busy. The mind got up to too much unnecessary trouble when there was too much free time.
She heard him coming up the stairs. It must be time for him to make sure she was alive again. She was almost sure one of the reasons she actually was giving in to him wanting her to sleep so much was because it meant he would finally retreat to the basement and give her space.
She heard him pause at the doorway, clearly assessing if she was asleep or not. She turned over in the bed, letting him know she was awake and looked at him.
He gave a small smile, walking forward and sitting down on his side of the bed. He lowered his hand to her hair, his thumb resting on her forehead. "Doin' okay?"
"Same old," she replied.
"What ya want for dinner?"
She was honestly surprised he was asking. He'd just been bringing her various soups so far. "Hm, good question."
"Your stomach feelin' up to anything more solid?"
She thought about it for a second. She wanted something different, but her stomach also turned at the thought of anything too solid, like meat. Last thing she wanted to do was throw up and freak him out.
"Maybe some chili," she finally settled on.
"The Diner makes some great chili."
"Sounds perfect. Then you can actually get something you actually want to eat." She knew soup wasn't exactly his meal of choice.
"You sure you're feelin' okay? I don't want to leave if—"
"Jethro, I'm fine. I'm just sick. I'm not dying. Besides, I'm feeling a lot better. Go ahead and get some real food."
He hesitated, but he finally nodded and pressed a kiss to her head and left. He glanced behind him when he got to the door, as if expecting her to suddenly take a turn for the worse during the few steps he had taken.
This was going to be a long week.
While watching over Jenny and being home, he'd managed to make good progress on his changing table project. Jenny was starting to seem a lot better after a few days of resting, much to his relief. She was definitely not herself. He wasn't sure what was going through her mind, but she was withdrawn. He was guessing it had to do with the guilt and doubts she had been having at the hospital that night. He'd made sure to keep an eye on her and do his best to care for her. At the same time, he was trying not to overcrowd her. He'd spent a lot of time in the basement working on the table. It wasn't his usual kind of project, it definitely required a lot of precise attention, especially working on the little storage drawers. She'd been home since Thursday afternoon, and by Saturday night he'd felt pretty good about his progress.
It was when Sunday morning dawned that he struggled. The 25th of February.
16 years.
16 years since his girls were taken from him. 16 years since he'd been delivered the worst news of his life. 16 years since his entire world had been traumatically ripped apart.
This had never been a day he coped well with. It was always a day he would take off from work, visit their grave, and then escape to his cabin to be by himself and get blind drunk. He'd never spent this day with anyone. None of his ex-wives ever saw a trace of him on this day.
But this year it was different, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it or process it. He felt such a mixture of the usual anger and sadness—but he also felt a sense of calm and peace that he hadn't ever felt on this day before. He'd woken up to Jenny's face pressed into his shoulder, her belly pressing into his side, and he knew in that moment that he had no intention of taking off to be by himself. He wasn't going to get drunk. He wasn't going to shut her out. He was going to stay here with her, and keep making sure she was okay. She was his priority.
The most he would do today is get some flowers and go lay them on the grave. He wasn't going to break that tradition. He did it every anniversary and every birthday. But he would spend the rest of his day at home, sober. Maybe he'd get closer to being done with the changing table.
It made him feel a bit guilty though. He felt like he was replacing his love for his girls at times. It was almost like he was betraying them. At the same time, he knew Shannon wouldn't have wanted him moping about forever. He thought she'd perhaps want him to move on. Then again, his loyalty to her and her memory was a hard thing to dissect. It had been so long, and he would question if he even remembered her correctly anymore. She'd been so young, and he'd been a completely different person back then.
And then Kelly…that was even harder. She would have turned 24 later this year. He had no idea what she would look like, what she would be like. He only knew her as his little girl. He'd been robbed the opportunity to really get to know his daughter and see her grow. Thinking of her as an adult, with a degree and job, he couldn't even comprehend it. Ziva was only a few years older than Kelly would be, and it was beyond strange to think of his daughter being that grown up and mature. Perhaps it was why he had so easily formed an attachment to Ziva, because she was in that stage of life his daughter could be in if she was still alive.
He looked down at the pregnant belly insistently pressing into his side. This time he'd have a boy, and it was a strange concept. He didn't have experience in raising a boy, and he wondered what kind of personality his son could have. His son would be raised in a new generation. The times were completely different, which meant that raising this kid would be a different experience. Not to mention, he was a lot older—and hopefully wiser—than he had been with Kelly.
He wondered how different the mothering style would be between Shannon and Jenny as well. They were not alike, that was for sure. Jenny was a lot older than Shannon was when she had Kelly. Jenny was more secure, very much adult and settled. Then it would weird him out when he would realize that Jenny was younger now than Shannon would be. He and Shannon were only a year apart, whereas he and Jenny were born in different decades.
"I can feel you thinking."
He looked down at Jenny, surprised she was awake. Her eyes were still screwed shut. "Mornin'," he greeted.
She grumbled and pressed her front closer into his side, wrapping her arm around him and making him smile.
"You feelin' better today?" he asked, automatically pressing a hand to her forehead.
She swatted his hand away. "Ask me again in an hour when I'm actually awake."
He smirked. She was definitely feeling better, she was acting more herself. He was relieved she wasn't being as despondent as she had been. He'd hardly gotten anything out of her the last few days.
"You want anything for breakfast?"
"I've never had such a dedicated, male personal chef before," she mumbled into his shoulder.
"Don't get used to it."
"I won't. I'll gain 1,000 pounds. Noemi cooks healthier than you."
He was silent, letting her just keep snuggling him. He was honestly enjoying the comforting touch. They'd hardly touched each other ever since she'd gotten sick, and he really was glad to see her seeming to feel better. It had been a long week. And today, more than any other day, he needed her. He needed her presence, her ability to ground him.
"Are you okay?"
He turned his head at the question, realizing her eyes were open and she was looking at his face.
"Yeah," he responded quietly, giving a tight smile.
She didn't question him, but he could sense her reading through him.
They'd eventually slowly got out of bed and got their teeth brushed and grabbed whatever they wanted for breakfast. It was nice not having work hanging over them. It was just the two of them, taking their time with the morning. It was never like this. The only time they'd get close to this was the rare time they shared weekends off, but even then it was quick and work hung over their heads.
When he went to put the dishes away she came up behind him, wrapping her arms around him. He put his hand over hers.
"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.
"Whaddya mean?"
"You know what I mean. You seem down. Quieter than usual."
"I tell ya recently how much I love ya?"
"No. But you're just changing the subject. What's wrong?"
He sighed, squeezing her hand a little tighter. It felt weird. It was personal. He knew he needed to tell her, he had promised himself he wasn't going to shut her out. That was what had wrecked so many of his relationships. But still, it was hard being so open, and letting another person in so completely.
"Jethro?
He sighed again, rubbing his other hand down his face before he resolved himself. "Today is…it's been 16 years."
He could feel her about to question it, ask what he meant, but then she got so still around him and he knew she finally understood. She kissed his back and then her grip slackened hesitantly and she pulled apart from him. "I'm so sorry, Jethro."
He grit his teeth, keeping himself from snapping at her for saying she was sorry. He was trying to come to terms with that particular rule, for her.
"Not your fault," he mumbled instead. He was trying to fight the sudden urge to go isolate himself like he always did. He turned around to face her, seeing her arms crossed and looking uncertain.
"I'll go to my house today. Give you some space."
"You're not goin' anywhere," he growled. "Still sick. I'm gonna watch over you."
"I'm fine today. I feel a lot better. You don't need me overcrowding you more than I already have."
"I want to be with you," he snapped, more harshly than he meant. Her arms were folded tight and she was focused on the ground, looking very nervous. "Jen…" he sighed, shaking his head at himself. "I need you," he admitted. "If I'm on my own I'm just gonna…it's not good."
She finally looked at him, studying him for a minute. "Okay," she relented.
He gave a nod of thanks.
"But only if you mean it," she insisted. "I'm serious. I love you, Jethro, you know I do. But if you are going to bite my head off or be cranky…" she shook her head. "I can't deal with that."
He gave her a nod of understanding. She had reason to be worried about that after times in the past. He knew there were several times he'd taken it out on her when she hadn't even known. He'd been a real bastard at times. And Thanksgiving…he didn't need her to see a repeat of him like that. He was better than that, and he wanted to be better for her.
"Okay," he nodded. "I'll be good," he responded, reaching out his hand for her to take. She put hers in his and he pulled her forward giving her a kiss. "Promise."
Jenny sat on the large bed that was once Kelly's, trying to envision what exactly she wanted. She didn't know what she wanted.
Jethro had said it was up to her what happened to the room to become a nursery and that he'd do whatever. She'd gone along with him up to the room, figuring he'd been looking for a good distraction. He'd left quite a while ago to visit their grave, after asking her far too many times if she was sure she felt okay.
She'd assured him she was just fine. And she was—physically, at least. Emotionally, she wasn't so sure. She was excited to go back to work in a few days, but she also worried about how she'd overdone it.
She sighed, letting her eyes scan the room for the millionth time, fighting the urge to lay back and fall asleep. She wanted to try and correct her schedule before returning to work in a few days, and continuing to sleep all hours of the day wasn't going to help. It was hard enough on top of the pregnancy symptoms that had been plaguing her lately. The aches and pains, the swollen feet, and the belly that was making it increasingly harder to walk like a normal person every week. The worst part was that the baby had taken up so much room she had to pee like a maniac. She'd never gone pee so much in her life than she had in the last few days, since Jethro was determined to drown her to keep her hydrated. She'd been getting the urge to shoot him every time she found another water or Gatorade bottle suddenly appear beside her. She was so sick of waddling to the bathroom every 30 minutes. The fact that she still had a few months to go and that it would only get worse was making her want to die.
She eyed the one thing about the room that she knew she was changing—the drapes. They were a hideous floral monstrosity. The combination of green walls with brown carpet wasn't a favorite of hers, but it wasn't too horrible and she certainly wasn't going to have them go to the work to tear out all the carpet, replace it, and repaint the whole thing. It was a comfortable room as it was, and it certainly didn't need to be glamorous. The baby wasn't going to care what it looked like.
She really needed to buy all the baby supplies and the crib in order to figure out what needed changed or moved around. If they could fit the bed and the baby stuff, or if they needed to go to the work to disassemble the whole bed and drag it out of there.
She sighed, giving up the fight and laying on her back. It was overwhelming thinking about the amount of work that still needed to be done to prepare for the baby, especially when she felt tired. They were supposed to get some of the shopping done last week, but the damn flu had axed those plans. She closed her eyes, thinking about how they probably needed to get the baby shopping done in the next couple of days before work started again for the both of them. She hated not being prepared, and the time to have the room all set up and ready was quickly disappearing.
She wondered if she needed to be that mom who decked out the room in blue paint, with stuffed animals littered everywhere and cute animals painted on the walls. She wondered just how much she was already failing at being a mom since she just couldn't bring herself to want to go to all that work. Granted, she'd already failed pretty spectacularly by putting work above her and her baby's health last week.
The want to sleep pulled at her heavily as the restless thoughts swirled about, tugging her into an uneasy nap. She was too far gone to hear the truck pull up fifteen minutes later.
Jethro turned off the truck and sat there, glancing in the mirror to see if the emotions were still present on his face. It was strange visiting the grave knowing he had another woman and another kid on the way. He almost felt like he needed to apologize to Shannon. Instead, he had stood there silently, glad to have the moment to himself, yet strangely wishing Jenny was there to ease the loneliness he always felt while standing there.
He just hoped to hell he never had to visit a grave with Jenny's name on it. The irrational fear that he could lose another significant other and another child was suffocating. He'd had enough of those thoughts sweep over him the last week as it was.
It was after he'd stood at the grave a long while that he realized his life really had changed, because instead of mourning his girls and drowning himself in the old memories, all he could do was think about Jenny and his current circumstances. He was thinking about how he wanted to do right by Jenny, and have her be his partner for the rest of his life.
He was thinking about how he wanted to marry Jenny in front of his dead wife's headstone. It was very bizarre, and it seemed like it should feel so much more wrong than it actually did.
He sighed, opening his truck door and making his way to the house. Jenny was fiercely independent, and she hadn't exactly responded well to the idea of moving in together. Still, there was no reason for them not to get married in his mind. The fact there was a baby on the way made it seem like marriage was far overdue by now.
He opened the front door and threw his keys into the little bowl and hung up his coat. He listened for a second, seeing if he could deduce where she was. The silence had him making his way up the stairs to inspect. Kelly's door was open and he wandered to it, seeing if Jenny was still in there.
He popped his head in, his eyes landing on Jenny, seemingly zonked out. He moved closer and narrowed his eyes, watching to make sure she was breathing and okay. He nodded when he was sure she was fine. He gave a small smile and turned around, heading to their room. He grabbed the half drunk bottle of water by the bed and her favorite blanket and then headed back to Kelly's room. He quietly placed the water down on the nightstand and draped the blanket over her. She stirred, her eyes opening up sleepily.
"Mm, Jethro," she acknowledged, her eyes fluttering tiredly. "How was it?" she slurred.
"Fine. Go back to sleep, Jen," he muttered, leaning down to kiss her head.
She smiled, her eyes closing again.
He shook his head in amusement, deciding to go to the basement to work some more on the table and put his thoughts in order.
"You shouldn't have let me nap so long," she protested, clearing the table of their dinner remnants.
He shrugged. "Didn't feel like dyin'."
He'd woken her up in the past, and she wasn't exactly the happiest person to deal with in those situations.
"My schedule is going to be wrecked by Wednesday," she moaned.
He rolled his eyes. "You'll be fine." He grabbed her hand and pulled her away from what she was doing.
"What are you doing?"
"We're gonna watch a movie," he responded, tugging her behind him.
She raised an eyebrow he couldn't see, intrigued. Normally he'd suggest something like that so they could cuddle and he could get handsy and try and get laid. They hadn't been intimate since she'd gotten sick over a week ago. But she knew that wasn't what he was seeking tonight. He just wanted company and distraction to get him through the rest of the day. She was willing to do whatever he needed her to do to help him through. She was just glad she didn't feel like an unwelcome replacement, instead he genuinely seemed to want her to be with him.
He asked what she wanted to watch and she told him to decide, so he popped in one of the old VCR movies. He then pulled her onto the couch, having her sit between his legs with her back resting against his front. She got comfortable, smiling when pressed a kiss to her neck and propped his chin on her shoulder.
She sighed in frustration when the baby started kicking. She swore the kid couldn't let her eat or rest without giving her grief. The little guy sure seemed to be intent on screwing with her life and giving her one headache after the other. It was no wonder Jethro was responsible for putting it there.
"What's wrong?" Jethro immediately questioned
"Just the baby, he's kicking up a storm. He doesn't like me to relax."
"Oh."
The excluded sound of his voice had her grabbing his hand. "Here," she said, pulling his hand onto where the kicks were originating. Surely he could feel it at this point. The baby was insistent. She put pressure against his hand with hers, letting him know he could press his hand against her.
He went still against her, and she felt his hand press just a little more. He sat up better and looked more clearly over her shoulder at where his hand was.
"Do you feel it?"
"Yeah," he breathed out. "I feel him."
She didn't miss the emotion in his voice.
His breath caught, amazed at the fleeting jabs against his hand. His emotions were swirling at the physical feeling of life. He'd never experienced this before, and even though the sensation was faint it was weirdly wondrous.
He moved his hand and lifted her shirt up a bit, pressing his hand back on her stomach. She moved his hand to the correct spot, and right when he could feel the tiny movement again it stopped. He held his breath, waiting.
"I suppose he's decided he's appeased for now," she said, pressing her hand over his. "He's like you, he likes to annoy me in spurts to keep me on my toes."
He swallowed, holding her close as he tried to reign in his emotions and ignore the moisture in his eyes. It was strange. He'd been at his daughter's grave earlier, and now he'd just felt signs of life in this baby. This was the worst day of his life so many years ago, but right now he felt like one of the luckiest people on the planet.
"Jen?"
"What?"
"Marry me."
