A/N: This starts us off in the middle of "Iceman" (4x18). Thank you all for your patience with the sporadic updates lately.
When he opened the curtain in the hospital, curious on who it was that was visiting the comatose Corporal, he was beyond shocked to see who it was.
"Hello, probie."
"Hello, Mike," he responded, still feeling off balance. Why on earth would his mentor of all people be here? "You know this Marine?"
"He's my son."
What in the hell. Of all the things, this was the last thing he was expecting. His mentor had a son? He never said anything. All those years. He was starting to think he really didn't know anything. The nurse came in, stopping any further communication, handing Mike a coffee and then checking on the Corporal. He stared his mentor down curiously as the man settled into a chair. He felt almost betrayed. Ziva followed the nurse out to ask her some questions.
"You never told me you had a son," he muttered as he stared at the Corporal.
"Didn't find out till a couple years ago," Mike responded quietly.
He nodded. In that case, it made a lot more sense. Still, all that time in Mexico together months ago, and Mike never thought to mention he found out he had a kid? Perhaps he wasn't as close to Mike as he thought he was.
"Got a phone call one day. It was him. He tracked me down. We met, had a few beers. He was just about to deploy. Didn't hear from him again until a couple days ago. Said he was in trouble."
"What kinda trouble?"
"Didn't say," Mike said, getting up from his chair with a grunt and standing above the bed, staring at his son. "You wouldn't know it now, but he's got his mother's hair."
Jethro gave a small smile, looking down. It made him wonder about his son, and if he'd end up with his mother's hair.
"Used to blow across her face and get in her eyes. She'd get so pissed and I'd laugh."
He chuckled quietly as he listened. Sounded like a few women he had known.
"She died a few years ago. We were only together six months. Didn't even know she was pregnant when she left."
All the women he'd been with flitted through his mind. He hoped to hell none of them had hidden a massive secret like that from him. He was probably lucky that hadn't been the case with Jenny after Europe when she'd left. He didn't know what he would do finding himself in this situation, and it made him feel bad for Mike. Missing out on all those years and never knowing. He was damn lucky to be in his current position. Knowing, able to be there. The sadness and regret in Mike's eyes was something he'd never seen in the man before.
"What do the doctors say?" he asked Mike.
"What doctors always say. Not much that makes any sense. Doing tests. Brain waves and…reflexes, all that neurological stuff." Mike glared, still staring at his son in concern. "Do you know who did this, Probie?"
"Not yet," he shook his head.
"Guess you wouldn't tell me if ya did."
"Nope."
They stared at each other intensely for a few seconds. They knew each other too well. At the same time, apparently not all that much. But they knew they had their reasons.
"Need a place to stay tonight, Mike?"
"Might just stay here, with my boy."
Jethro nodded, understanding perfectly. He'd do the same. With that he left the room, leaving Mike still staring down at his son. He couldn't stand the air in the room anymore. He knew the feeling in the room, what Mike was doing as he stared down at his boy. It was goodbye.
He found Ziva and the doctor, sighing as he reached the desk. It was a lot of new information to take in with his mentor, and he knew what it was like to lose a kid. This was going to be hard on Mike, even if he'd barely known his son. The case was suddenly a lot more personal to him, more stressful.
"There any hope?" he asked the doctor.
"As I was just explaining to your colleague, the patient is unresponsive to external stimuli."
"His name is Corporal O'Neill," Gibbs stated. This was Mike's son. This was a Marine. He was a person, not just some random body.
"Corporal O'Neill," she amended apologetically. "There's still more testing to do, which will determine if there is any cerebral circulation present, but at this point it would be wrong to offer any hope."
He bowed his head, swallowing. He knew it wouldn't be good, but he'd still hoped there was a chance. "When will you know for certain?"
"Tomorrow."
"Thank you," Ziva said.
"Sure." The doctor smiled and left.
Gibbs shook his head, grabbing his coffee cup forcefully as he followed Ziva back out. She stopped at the door to the room where Mike was still staring at his son.
"He knows?" she asked quietly.
He didn't dare stop and look in the room, not wanting to see the pain in Mike's eyes. Not wanting to intrude on the farewell. "He knows," he answered with certainty, looking in her eyes briefly before he continued out the door.
The next day had been tough. Mike coming in and saying that they were "done testing". Having to watch the pain in the man's eyes as he went through the personal effects they had that Abby had tested. Being asked by Mike to be the witness at the hospital when they pulled the plug. He'd never liked hospitals, and it was for this very reason. Death, grieving, pain. It just made him think of his girls. Of his mom. Of all the others he had lost.
He'd left the room, leaving Mike to say goodbye, listening outside the door at the desk as the flatline sounded. It was painful. Morbid.
He'd gone back to the room to find Mike gone, and when he'd made it back to the office Abby said Mike's prints were matched as ones found in the car. The whole damn thing was getting so complicated and messy. He'd went back up the bullpen to be briefed, and then Mike called, asking for a meet.
He made it to the location, a wire fence between the two of them. It felt fitting for how things felt between them right now. The barrier caused by secrets.
"Found your prints in his car, Mike," he called out as he made his way to the fence.
"Figured you probably would."
"You should've told me you saw him."
"Didn't want you asking me too many questions."
"About?" he demanded, just about done with all of this. Mike was his friend, not a foe, but he wasn't liking feeling in the dark about everything. Now was the time for honesty, because the last thing he needed was to have to turn his mentor into the foe. The evidence wasn't looking good right now, and he did have to do his job.
"What my son was involved in," Mike responded.
There was a long silence. "Are you gonna tell me?" he finally demanded.
Mike sighed, looking down and then looking back up. "I saw him a couple o' days ago. He needed money. Just about cleaned me out. But I got it for 'im. $25,000."
Jethro looked away as that massive number sunk in. That was a lot of money, and it wasn't making things look any better.
"He took $500, asked me to hold the rest. Said it was safer that way. Said he would call me when he needed it. Never called."
"What's this about?" he asked.
Mike looked away. "Wouldn't tell me."
"He wouldn't tell you, or you won't tell me?" he shot out angrily.
The fence between them was seeming far too literal.
"We're getting more alike, you and me, probie," Mike said defensively. "Even feeling the same pain. I don't know how you didn't go crazy when you lost your little girl. Maybe you did for a while. Maybe you still are."
The pain of hearing his girls mentioned never got any easier. He clenched his jaw, not wanting to think about how dark times had been after that. Where he'd gone in his head. The combination of war, PTSD, his wounds and coma, and his girls being murdered all at the same time…
That was never a place he wanted to be mentally ever again. He knew the kind of pain Mike was feeling right now, and he hurt for him. But it didn't make all these secrets and distrust excusable. He knew Mike wasn't thinking with a clear head, and he was putting himself in danger if he didn't let them help and use the law.
"I just know I gotta do what's right for my boy. I owe him that."
"Let me handle it," he assured Mike.
Mike looked away, taking a drag from his cigarette and looking at his watch.
"You gotta be somewhere?" he demanded, annoyed that Mike still seemed to be holding back.
Mike dropped the cigarette and stomped it out with his foot, looking back up at him. "I want the body sent to my place in Mexico when Ducky's done with it. Can you arrange that for me?"
The alarm bells were blaring in his head. Mike wasn't going to be honest. This wasn't looking good.
"I don't wanna have to come after you, Mike."
"Then don't."
With that Mike walked away and got in his car, leaving Jethro to stare on.
As soon as he got back from the confrontation with Mike, he made his way to her office, walking past Cynthia with a slight smile and straight to the door. Cynthia never stopped him anymore, not unless Jenny was in an important meeting. Ever since it had been revealed he was the mystery father of the mystery baby, it was apparently much more acceptable to others for him to just burst in her office unannounced.
Jenny didn't even look up when he walked in, and he just took her in, watching her eyes dart back and forth from what she was reading, the way she kept her hand rested on her belly. He didn't know why he was going to her. He certainly couldn't tell her Mike appeared to be involved in all this. She knew Mike was in town, and that it turned out he had a son who was dying. It was one perk of them working together and her being his boss, he could tell her anything that was going on case wise that bothered him. She wasn't granted the same luxury, there was still a lot of "need-to-know" for her. A lot of things she couldn't discuss or get off her chest. She finally looked at him, giving a sympathetic smile.
"How are you?" she asked.
He raised an eyebrow. Was it that easy for her to tell he was feeling off? "Whaddya mean?" he played off.
"When I went looking for you earlier, your team said you had to be Mike's witness…for his son."
His mind flashed back to the pain in Mike's eyes, to that horrible flatline sound. He shrugged. "Doin' better than him right now," he answered vaguely. He knew where Mike's mind was at. He knew the drive for revenge and truth was boiling his blood.
She gave a sad smile and got up, heading to him and putting her hands on his arms comfortingly. "If you need to talk at all, I'm here."
He moved his hand, resting it on her bump and smoothing it across.
"I don't know how you didn't go crazy when you lost your little girl. Maybe you did for a while. Maybe you still are."
Maybe he would always be some form of crazy after that trauma. There was no healing from that deep damage, not entirely. But this—Jenny, and the baby—it had healed him more than he ever thought possible. He was determined to not lose them. Perhaps the only reason he was even in this office right now was for that assurance. To see her being fine, for things to seem normal.
"How long is he here? Does he need a place to stay?" she asked.
He glanced at her for a second and then avoided her eyes and looked down at his hand again, not sure on the answers himself. He wasn't entirely sure what Mike would be up to or how long it would take him. He was just hoping it wouldn't result in a bad fallout.
"Don't know, didn't say," he answered. "I can ask."
She was quiet, studying him. "How is the case going?"
She knew. She knew he was holding back something, he could hear it in her tone. But he couldn't get her involved, not with what Mike may be up to. For now he could try and keep it contained. Getting a third opposing party involved would make a mess.
"Ah, you know, it's going," he said, removing his hand and trying to not look guilty. "Gotta probably get back to the team."
"Wait, didn't you come in here for anything?" she asked, clearly confused.
"Just wanted to see you, make sure you're okay."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
She pursed her lips, and gave a nod. He could tell she was holding back on whatever she wanted to say. "But are you okay?" she asked.
He put his hand back on her bump and moved his other one to her face, pulling her in for a kiss. "How could I not be," he whispered as he pulled back, running his fingers down the side of her neck.
She was smiling, a light blush on her cheeks. "You are far too charming, and far too good at changing the subject."
"I know," he smirked. He kissed her head and turned away, heading out of the door.
"Don't do anything too stupid, Special Agent Gibbs," she called out as left.
The last thing he'd expected when the case wrapped up, was for a woman and a baby to be involved. But as he parted ways with Mike, and heard that little cry, turning to see a little infant face through the back of the taxi window as the mother comforted it, he couldn't help but smile as he walked away.
Life had a funny way of giving people second chances.
Mike barely knew his son, didn't even know he existed until a couple years ago, but now he had a grandchild to start over with.
He couldn't contain his laugh at the idea of Mike living with a baby, and taking on a father role to a grandkid. When he'd called Mike to tell him he was going to be a dad again, the last thing he'd ever envisioned happening was Mike taking care of a baby before him. The thought of Mike grumbling around the house, holding baby bottles instead of beer bottles, trying to get a baby to nap rather than getting to take his own nap on the porch—it was comedy gold.
In Mexico all those months ago together, it seemed like both of them were destined to die like that. Living some ridiculous bachelor life on the beach, a beer in one hand, a fishing rod in the other, and no real family to speak of. Now both of them were suddenly taking on a family, taking on a baby. They were both getting their second chances to be dads.
His phone rang and he looked at it, seeing Jenny's name. He flipped it open. "Jen," he greeted.
"I got briefed on your case, and your team said you left right after you got the confession. So did you track down Franks?"
"Yeah."
"And he's fine?"
"Yeah."
"Good. I assume the bit about his fingerprints and him looking like a suspect was what you weren't telling me earlier today in my office?"
"Didn't need to tell you."
She sighed. "Jethro—"
"Jen, I didn't want anything to happen until we knew for sure. No point chasin' someone who isn't guilty."
This was always the sore point that even being in a relationship couldn't change. He had his job, she had hers, and sometimes they conflicted despite working for the same agency. They both had different asses to cover.
"Fine," she relented. "As your Director, I need to remind you that you are supposed to keep me updated with pertinent information. Even if you don't like it and it doesn't suit your own brand of justice. You can't do what you want. Now that I'm done scolding you professionally, personally I'd like to know what time you're home tonight."
He looked at his watch. "Probably an hour. Maybe two. Why, you already home?"
"I'm just about to leave the office. I thought I'd work more on the nursery tonight."
The most they'd done over the weekend was get the crib put together. The whole thing took far longer than it should have, and they'd had fun arguing about instructions in the manual and getting in the other ones way. He almost felt like he should have made his own by the end. But it did look good, and seemed sturdy enough. Everything else was pretty much in a pile on the bed.
"Okay. Don't do anything too crazy, no heavy lifting. Be home as soon as I can to help."
She did that annoyed little sigh she always did when she thought he was being ridiculous. "Says my agent who went rogue today. But heaven forbid I lift anything heavier than a feather or a—"
"Jen," he interrupted, "I love you." And then he hung up.
He'd brought home dinner and then went to the nursery to get her, where Jenny was sitting on the bed flipping through the baby and parenthood book she'd bought.
"Your phone manners never cease to amuse me," she commented as he walked in.
"Said I loved you," he shrugged.
"Hm, but that doesn't change the fact you interrupted and then hung up. Let's not even talk about the way you've always answered the phone." She put down her book, holding up a pretend phone to her ear. "Gibbs," she said in a deep mocking voice, grunting a few times and then mimicking hanging up. She smirked triumphantly at his glare, picking up her book again. "No hello, no goodbye. You'll have to set a better example for our child."
He rolled his eyes. He honestly didn't see the point of unimportant formalities. People should just get straight to the point and be done.
"Come on," he grunted, ignoring her mocking tirade. "I brought dinner."
He told her all about the Mike case over dinner, still shocked and amused that his gruff mentor now had a little grandbaby. He realized he didn't know what gender the little infant was, or it's name. All he'd seen was a brief glance.
"I guess you and him can exchange parenting tips," she said as she collected their plates. "He's also going to have to learn to put aside his chauvinism if he is going to live with his daughter-in-law and grandchild, especially if the baby is a girl. It will be a very healthy experience for him."
"So, is livin' with me and havin' a boy gonna teach you to give men a break and be nice?"
"Oh please," she scoffed. "I've been stuck dealing with the boys club my entire career. If I didn't like men, I wouldn't still be there." She put the dishes in the sink, running water on them.
He watched her go over to the garbage bin, admiring the view as she bent to grab the bag out. Her pants were clinging, her shirt was riding up. He crept up behind her as she pulled the bag out and tied it, pulling her into him and taking the bag from her, tossing it onto the floor as he turned his attention to her.
"Mm," she moaned, as he pressed his face into her neck and kissed her, gliding his hands up her sides. "Now that my provider has given me food and done his duty, he expects to have his way with me."
He chuckled. "I always want you. But I gotta show you somethin' first."
"I hate to break it to you, but I've already seen it all with you."
He chuckled and shook his head at the comment, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the basement.
She smiled, realizing he was finally going to let her in on his super secret basement project. She'd realized he was working on something down there that he didn't want her to see. He kept making excuses or creating distractions to keep her out of there lately, and he'd spent the whole week she was sick locked away down there when he wasn't harassing her with water. She doubted it had anything to do with the boat.
"Watch your step," he said as they went down the wooden basement steps. She rolled her eyes at the overprotective comment. While she appreciated his concern for her safety since getting pregnant, it often just felt patronizing.
There was a protective cover draped over something in the middle of the basement floor. The boat was pushed away against the wall.
"I, uh, I made this. Thought it could come in handy, with the baby."
It was cute how nervous he suddenly was, almost embarrassed to show her. He grabbed the cover and pulled it off, revealing…a dresser? Except the top wasn't flat…it had a carved wooden border all around it. It looked familiar, like she should know what it was.
She put her hand on it, feeling how smooth and polished it was. The wood was beautiful, and he'd done little patterns and carvings in various places. It certainly had taken a certain level of skill. She looked from it to him, hoping he'd tell her what it was before she asked and hurt his feelings.
He blushed, realizing from the polite, but blank look on her face that she didn't know.
"It's a changin' table, to change diapers on," he explained, putting his hand on it. "Not quite finished, still need to put some kinda padding here for the baby, so it's comfortable for him to lay on. Maybe some straps to secure him. But this border should be tall enough he won't be able to roll off."
"Oh," she breathed, suddenly realizing she'd seen changing tables like this while doing her baby supply research. "Jethro, it looks great. It's sturdy, and there's plenty of space to store things with these cabinets and this shelf. It'll match the other furniture too."
She felt him watching her nervously while she took it all in, exploring the drawers and shelf and feeling the little patterns he'd carved across the border edge.
"Tried to make it tall enough for ya to change him comfortably. So you wouldn't have to bend too much. I mean, not that it'll just be you, I'll change him too, I jus—"
She interrupted his nervous spluttering, giving him a big hug. "It's perfect, Jethro. I love it. I'm sure it'll come in handy. I hadn't even thought to buy one. I doubt any ones I could buy would be anywhere near as good as this. People would pay good money for this kind of quality."
"Gotta have a couple people help me move it when I'm done," he blabbered on, clearly uncomfortable with the praise and still nervous about the whole thing. "Can't get it outta the basement on my own."
She gave him a kiss, trying to soothe his awkwardness. He broke away from her, still weirdly nervous as he went to the corner of the basement.
"And, uh, I pulled this outta the attic. Re-sanded it, fixed it up a little." He picked up a big wooden object about as big as his upper body. She realized it was a cradle of some kind, and she wondered if it was wrong to feel a little aroused by how easily he carried it and how his arms flexed. He placed it down by her feet and it rocked a little. "It was Kelly's," he explained. "Her bassinet. Made it for her before she was born."
The crack in his voice showed how much it meant to him. How personal it was. The fact he had kept it all these years, all these decades. She felt her emotions sway for him. She stooped down, rocking it gently.
He watched her touch the bassinet and rock it. It reminded him of when Shannon had done the same when he'd made it, all those years ago. They didn't have much back then, and the whole thing had made her cry. He could still remember after he'd gotten back to meet Kelly, a memory of Kelly fussing when nap time rolled around. Shannon had put her in the bassinet, rocking her in it and singing gentle songs as she tried to soothe her. It was such a long time ago.
He heard a sniff, focusing back on the present and looking at Jenny. She reached her arm up, asking for assistance in getting up, and he pulled her up. She turned a little and he realized she was wiping away tears.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, seeming embarrassed by her tears. "I don't mean to cry. You know how emotional I get. But"—she paused, tears gathering in her eyes again—"it's just so-so" she choked, "so sweet."
He pulled her into him, hugging her while she sniffled. She was way more emotional and tearful than she used to be, thanks to the hormones, and he'd gotten used to comforting her. But she really didn't need to feel bad for him. Six months ago he wouldn't have been able to handle the pain of facing these things, but now it was different. Despite the sadness he'd always feel, he was really looking forward to the future. He hadn't looked forward to anything in so many years, and it was nice to have hope again.
"You're a good man," she muttered into his neck.
"You make me good," he said, kissing her forehead. "C'mon," he picked up the bassinet, "may as well put this in the nursery now."
Jenny stared at the ring on her hand. The large enhanced blue diamond in the middle sparkled between the pure colorless diamonds that accented it. The platinum band was beautiful, with an elegant vine like effect around the diamonds. She tried to deny that the reason the blue diamond had caught her eye was that it reminded her of Jethro's eyes.
Jethro had been the one who had dragged her into the ring shop over the weekend to buy her a ring. He let her wander in the shop and debate for as long as she needed. He didn't even complain once, which was a first in her shopping history with him. She'd had nice rings that she'd bought for herself, but those were all interchangeable rings. They were for whenever she felt like it or for whatever mood or outfit she was in. Sometimes they were just a way to make her look like she was taken and keep men at business meetings away from her. But buying an actual, permanent engagement ring had been different.
It would be the ring she'd wear all the time. It would be the ring that would pair with all of her outfits. It would be a permanent accent. So it had been quite the choice when they'd gone in, having to commit so fully. She really had been impressed by Jethro being so patient.
Even more so, she had been impressed that Jethro, despite being such a traditional man, had let her choose her own ring and didn't just present her with one he'd picked. That was what most men seemed to be expected to do. She'd never liked that idea, because how was the man supposed to know what the woman really wanted? Clearly Jethro knew her well—or perhaps he'd just done this enough to understand what women really wanted with an engagement—but she had appreciated him letting her choose. He'd even told her not to worry about the price and didn't even flinch when it came time to pay.
They hadn't walked out with the ring that day, it needed to be sized. Perhaps that had been a good thing, because as they'd walked out those doors she'd gotten a call that completely obliterated the mood and made their weekend plans redundant.
Agent Cassidy's team had been in an explosion, and she was the only survivor.
Nothing over the rest of the weekend had been happy. She and Jethro's team were working endlessly to bring about some kind of justice. She'd had to make the calls she'd hated making the most, barely making it through them without tears. Informing family members their loved ones had died in duty was never easy. Informing Agent Nelson's wife of two months, that she was now a widow…it had shaken her to her core. She had been ring shopping when this newly married man had perished.
The worst part was knowing that it should have been Jethro and his team in the morgue. She would be the one mourning the loss of her love right now, not Amy Nelson. It was Jethro's team who was originally supposed to be on call this weekend. Agent Cassidy's team had agreed to switch them weekends last minute due to various schedule wants between agents on both teams.
It was a paralyzing thought to all of them. She felt guilty for being happy it wasn't Jethro, because at the same time she was weighed down by grief over losing her agents. She was the Director, she was the one responsible for all of the people under her, and it was on her head when any mistakes or deaths happened. No one should have died. But it was just something you had to get used to in this job, something you had to learn to harden yourself to in order to mentally survive.
It was a very grim ending when Agent Cassidy perished just like her team, sacrificing herself to save the rest of them. It was the second time where Jethro and his team by all rights should have died, but yet again were spared. She and many others would be in mourning with Amy Nelson and all those other families if Agent Cassidy hadn't sacrificed herself and contained the explosion.
It had been a brutal week after all that for everyone. There was a lot of survivors guilt happening. A lot of confusion and hard to accept truths. Black bands accompanying the deep sense of loss in the building. Three funerals that were three too many. She'd had to speak at the memorial service held in honor of the Agents at their building, and was present at all the funerals. It was emotionally draining for the entire building, and there had been a lot of tears and frustration.
She looked away from her ring, staring up at the ceiling.
Tony DiNozzo was, undeniably, the most shaken up of everyone. He'd looked like a ghost ever since. It was no secret he and Cassidy were a sexual fling of the past. McGee and Ziva seemed to be trying to keep him company, trying to help him through despite his grief and occasional bouts of anger and moping. Everyone seemed to just be trying to bond and get through together. Tony insisted it should have been him, not Paula. The young man had been through a hard year, between Gibbs leaving and him having to take the helm, then being pushed back when Gibbs came back, then his breakup with the nurse he'd fallen head over heels for, and now this.
Ziva and McGee had their own issues over the year, with work, family, and their own heart breaks too.
The whole thing had been one of those instances where Jenny questioned why any of them were doing what they did. Why any of them took the risks they did. Why agents as young as these kids were witnessing the kinds of tragedies they did. She wanted them all to be safe and happy, but this job didn't allow for that. Clearly they were all insane for being in this career.
She couldn't help but wonder what their lives had in store for them. Where they would all go career wise, and if they would ever have their own little families. Life worked in mysterious ways, you never ended up where you imagined. The ring on her finger was testament to that.
She looked at it again. She never thought she'd see a ring on her finger because of a man. They'd picked it up earlier today, and it was quite the personal experience when he'd taken the beautiful ring out of it's little fancy box and slipped it onto her finger. He'd been so gentle, and he gave her a look that was undeniably happy, and even a little victorious. He had every right to feel victorious. Curse him. He was the one who had obliterated the fiercely independent Jenny Shepard. Apparently it hadn't been enough that he'd put a baby in her and made her look like an extra swollen grape—he'd needed that ring too. The symbol that she was tied to him. And she knew he wasn't done yet, she knew he really wanted to get married. He'd hinted at it many times in his own Gibbs way.
She still refused to think she ever needed a man, even if he had claimed her and put a baby in her. Even if she couldn't sleep as soundly without him next to her anymore. Even if she couldn't imagine her life without him.
She heard his front door open, smiling as he came into view from the corner of her eye. She shifted slightly on his couch where she was laying down, looking at his now partially damp clothes.
"Looks like your truck washed you instead," she quipped.
He snorted, shaking his head. "It's called hard work," he shot back.
"Are you saying I don't work hard?"
"If sittin' on the couch is hard work, sure."
She scoffed at his playful teasing. "Well maybe I'd be wet too if you were in here doing hard work."
His eyebrows shot up, his cheeks reddening as a smirk formed on his face. He cleared his throat, clearly failing as he tried not to act affected. "Still gotta mow the lawn before the sun goes down."
She gave a dramatic sigh. "Fine, leave me here alone with nothing to do but think."
"Think? Didn't realize ya did that."
She raised her eyebrows, smiling in spite of herself. "Damn, I feel like your probie again. If I could get up off this couch I'd attempt to headslap you for your rudeness." He laughed as she attempted to wriggle off of her back on the couch, her 30 week belly making it difficult to sit up. He reached out his hand, helping pull her up into a sitting position. He sat down beside her, and she arched an eyebrow at his wet clothes.
"Oh, so you'll get the couch wet, but not me."
The breath he had been letting out turned into a chuckle. "Get on my lap then."
"Too late, you had your chance."
They both just chuckled, and she cuddled into his side as they relaxed against the couch together.
"So, what were ya thinkin' 'bout?" he asked.
"Oh, you know, life," she said vaguely.
"Mm."
She looked at the ring again. "Actually, if I'm being honest, I was thinking about marriage."
He cleared his throat. "Yeah?" She could hear the excitement he was trying to hide in his voice. His valiant effort at trying not to spook her by pretending to be completely unperturbed was amusing.
"I decided I don't want anything big. Not a big traditional wedding."
"Take ya to the courthouse right now."
So much for his relaxed act. She smirked. To be honest, she wasn't against that idea. It would be quick and quiet. No fuss.
"I don't think either of us is exactly dressed for that right now."
He shrugged. "Doesn't matter how we look."
"Well, I care how I look. Plus, they wouldn't even be open this late. We'd need to wait until the morning at least. Even then they probably require you to set an appointment in advance."
"So ya wanna make an honest man out of me in the mornin', then?"
She smiled, brushing her hand against his chest. "Maybe not an honest man tomorrow, it's a little quick, but goodness knows I've already made a man out of you plenty of other mornings."
He pressed a kiss to her lips, tugging on her and trying to pull her onto his lap. Her bump prevented him from maneuvering her as easily as he used to, and he sometimes seemed too hesitant in the force he used, as if he worried he'd hurt her or the baby if he did much. She moved with him, getting in his lap and burying her face in his neck, resting against him as he moved his hands over her back. She loved when he touched her like that, brushing his big hands against her body soothingly. It always sent pleasant tingles throughout her body.
"I don't know when to get married," she sighed.
If they'd gone by traditional societal expectations, they would have been married before having a kid. But the kid thing hadn't been planned at all and was such a surprise. It really was the reason they were even where they were now. At this point it was hard to not feel like she had kind of missed the typical marriage boat. They pretty much were married at this point anyway.
"Whenever ya want, Jen."
"Jethro, what do you want?"
"Whatever makes you happy."
"No, Jethro, I'm serious. If it didn't matter to me at all, what would you want to do if it were entirely up to you? Before, or after the baby is born?"
His hands paused in their brushing, and she looked at him, brushing her hand on his face so he looked back at her. He twisted his head in her touch, kissing her palm.
"I'd have married you months ago. Hell, shoulda done it years ago."
"I wouldn't have let you years ago," she shrugged. They were different people back then, and they both knew that they wouldn't have settled down together. They should have, but they were far more stupid then. "So?" she prompted, "Before, or after the baby, what do you prefer?"
"Don't see the point in waitin'."
"So does the idea of waiting until after the baby is born bother you?"
He sighed. "I don't know. Little, I guess. Seems more normal, bein' married 'fore the kid comes along."
She nodded, knowing that was probably the case with him since he was more traditional.
"Don't need marriage," he shrugged. "All I want is both of you."
He rested his hand on the bump between them and she hugged him to her again, resting her cheek against his shoulder. Weddings were not something she was familiar with, and it made her head hurt to even begin to think about. There were so many details. Would she change her name, keep it the same, or hyphenate it? Would they need to plan in advance enough that they'd need to be inviting people? Would a small gathering suddenly turn huge if they planned it? If she bought a dress now, she'd look massive and it would be a waste. Did she even want a dress?
This was just a small part of why she had never wanted to get married. She didn't even want to know how stressful life would get when the baby arrived. Raising a child was a whole other complicated project, one that lasted decades, and she was woefully lacking in preparation for it. Which was why she'd never wanted to have kids.
"If you weren't so damn charming I wouldn't even have to worry about weddings or having a child. I'd be saving the world, one Navy crime at a time," she sighed dramatically. "I could have had a shot at being SecNav years from now, but you just had to knock me up and ruin the chances of the first female SecNav."
"An' I don't get to sail off on my boat with multiple women an' drink my way 'cross Mexico," he shrugged. "We all gotta make sacrifices."
She laughed against him, shaking her head. "How inspiring. Sounds like I saved you from liver cancer and multiple illegitimate children. Meanwhile, you robbed the Navy of an inspiring female leader."
"Mm-hmm. That's what ya get for settlin'," he chuckled back, his hands moving pleasantly across her back and arms again. One of them moved to her thigh, moving strategically higher. "So, were you serious 'bout wantin' to get wet, or do you want me to mow the lawn?"
She smirked, she knew he'd still be wondering in the back of his mind how much of that was serious earlier. Especially since she'd been sitting in his lap for a while now. He was a man, after all.
"Just askin', 'cause it's been a while since the Charger's been washed, and I got another sponge you could use."
She glared at him, smacking the back of his head as she tried to maneuver off his lap. He held her there, chuckling mischievously as she protested and informed him he was "a fraudulent ignoramus".
"Director Shepard, he's ready for you."
Jenny nodded at the secretary, getting up from her seat and following the woman to the door. She looked at the engraved gold name plaque on the door.
The Honorable Phillip Davenport
75th Secretary of the Navy
She couldn't help but be nervous. She'd only had a one-on-one, in person meeting with SecNav twice before. The other times she'd seen him had been big meetings with many other people. Any phone calls with him were brief, and the last time she'd spoken to him was when she informed him of her pregnancy. He was one of the busiest men in the Navy—this meeting alone had already been rescheduled two times during the last couple of weeks.
"Director Shepard," he greeted with a smile as she walked in. She didn't miss the way his eyes lingered on her stomach curiously. He stood up to meet her and shake her hand, directing her to the cushy seat in front of his big desk before he made his way back to his. "How are you?"
"I'm well, thank you, sir. How are you?"
"Very busy. You know how it gets."
"I do," she chuckled politely.
"I see that baby is growing quickly," he commented, his eyes darting down again.
"Unfortunately," she smiled tightly. She knew how much he hated small talk, and how busy he always was. He was a military man through and through. In a way, he reminded her of her father, though with a sharper edge. Disciplined, commanding, and not one to mince words. He had to be to get in the position he was in. For him to make time for a one-on-one meeting meant either you had a high position, had done too well in the job to ignore, or had done wrong. She knew she was in the latter in his eyes.
He cleared his throat, and she took in how perfect and straight his silk tie was, and how nice his suit was. Even his stern, no-nonsense looks screamed authority, and she couldn't help but feel like a school kid who'd been drug into the principals office for a talking to.
"Well, I'm not going to waste time. I know we're both far too busy for that. First, are you back to full-form after getting sick?"
"Yes, sir. I'm back on my feet. I made the mistake of overdoing it."
He gave a tight smile, one that told her he didn't have time for people overdoing it. "Good. Second, I need your assurance, under the current circumstances, that you can keep your house in order."
"Sir?"
"Relationships within the workplace are not prohibited, but as you know they are highly frowned upon. Especially among those of us in higher positions." She winced as he continued. This was what she'd been dreading for some time. "In the circumstances of you and Special Agent Gibbs, there's the added complication that you are his direct superior and he reports to you. This could lead others to question the possibility of the Director handing out special treatment to one team, due to personal involvement. Which then leads to me having to assess the situation and possibly pull in Assistant Director Vance to oversee that team instead."
She nodded, making sure to show she was giving him her full attention, waiting on the edge of her seat for whatever reprimand was headed her way.
"When you took on this position, you assured us your past relationship with Special Agent Gibbs wouldn't be a problem."
"I didn't think it would be, sir. I'm sorry."
He studied her, far too long for her liking, and then gave a nod. "As of yet, it hasn't been an issue. There have been no complaints, and no signs of you giving any special treatment. Assistant Director Vance saw no issues when he was here, and found no condemning evidence in the past paper trails between Agent Gibbs' team and your office. In fact, you've commanded the entire ship very well."
She felt like a weight was lifted off her chest. The mood in the room had eased substantially, and he even had a hint of smile on his face.
"Director Shepard, if I were to lay down the law and rid the Navy of every single commanding officer or leader who was fraternizing with the ranks beneath, I wouldn't have enough people left to run the Navy. Nor would any of the other agencies survive such a ruling. Like I stated earlier, relationships within the workplace are not strictly prohibited at NCIS."
She found herself unconsciously twisting the ring on her hand, nodding again to keep showing she was listening.
"I need your assurance that you and Special Agent Gibbs will continue to keep things professional in the workplace. And I need you to be aware that should any issues arise with your relationship, which in any way affect the integrity of this Agency—depending on the severity, one or both of your jobs could be on the line, or you may lose power of Gibbs' team to Assistant Director Vance. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir. It won't be a problem. I will very willingly resign should there be any issues of my integrity with this agency."
He gave a solemn nod. "Good. I will hold you to that. Lastly, I know last we spoke you told me you intended to stay on as Director after having your baby."
She gave a nod, holding her breath. She knew what he was going to ask, and to be honest, she wasn't sure what her feelings on that topic were anymore.
"I need to know if that is still your plan."
She was twisting the ring more, her hands fidgeting as she tried to figure out what her response needed to be. She opened her mouth, hesitating. "I-I'm not sure."
He pursed his lips, his eyes squinting slightly, looking as if he'd just confirmed suspicions he'd had. She hated that look. She hated proving these damn chauvinistic men right. She hated showing that she had weakness, that her firm standing with this agency could be swayed by something as boring and normal as a baby. She had been so unmovable before. Completely unaffected by such womanly notions or ideas. She'd never felt so vulnerable or compromised in this agency as she did right now. Like she was admitting that she couldn't handle playing with the big boys after all, despite years of trying to prove she could beat the very best of them.
He cleared his throat. "I'll need an answer as soon as possible, in case I need to move Vance over here to take your position as Director indefinitely. He'll be here anyway for at least half of your maternity leave. You have until May 1st to call me and inform me if you are resigning or staying."
She thought in her head quickly. That gave her about three weeks to decide. In fairness, he was giving her far more time than he could have. Her due date was in June, and not knowing until May only gave Leon Vance a month to prepare to move his family and job. She was honestly surprised he hadn't given her only 24 or 48 hours to decide.
"Thank you, sir."
He gave a smile, standing up to signal the end of the meeting. "It was good to see you, Director Shepard. You've done an exemplary job as Director so far. You're competent, and a hard worker. I'd hate to lose you."
She smiled back, taking his offered hand and shaking it back. "Thank you, Mr. Secretary. I've loved the opportunity."
With that she was dismissed from his office, realizing as her security detail drove her back to her own office that her time here could very well be limited. It never fully kicked in until now what it would mean to quit. What she would be losing. The structure, the image, the work. An entire building of agents, a detail that drove her around, masses of people who relied on her. It was chaos, but it was her chaos. NCIS had been a part of her identity for so long. It was who she was. She wasn't sure she could actually give it up.
"Holy Fourth of July weenie roast." Fornell was panting. "What's the matter with you? We're too old for this kind of crap."
In retrospect, perhaps he really should have just dragged Tony and Tim over here to help him with this. Tobias maybe had a point.
"We're not done yet, c'mon," he ushered.
Fornell groaned, glaring at the wooden furniture. "This kind of slavery is what you have agents for."
They'd gotten the changing table as far as the kitchen. Taking it up the wooden basement steps and trying to maneuver it through the door had been a real challenge. They'd both banged up a couple of fingers and were probably going to be quite sore. Trouble was, they still had to get the heavy thing up his other flight of stairs by the door.
Jenny was working today, while his team was not. It seemed like the perfect time to get some things done around the house. He wondered what she was going to say about her meeting with SecNav when she got back.
They both hoisted the furniture back up, neither of them able to hide pained grunts.
"It's moments like this, when I know you really hate me," Fornell complained.
He wasn't going to admit that it was because he actually trusted the man more than anyone else.
"Probably 'cause you married my ex-wife," he retorted instead.
"Like you care," the man breathed out, grunting, "especially now you're havin' a baby with someone else. Let's face it, you never even liked Diane. You were glad I took her off your hands and you didn't have to pay alimony anymore."
He chuckled.
They rounded the corner of the living room, reaching the other flight of stairs. "Top or bottom?" Fornell asked.
Jethro shrugged. "I don't care, take your pick." He'd been at the bottom of the load on the other flight of stairs, which meant he'd taken the brunt of the weight. But carrying from the top meant walking up backwards and steering. Either way wasn't fun. One was heavy and hurt your knees, the other was awkward and twisted your back.
"Hell if I care," came the groaned reply. They kept their position, Fornell going up the first step backwards.
He breathed deep after the first three steps, holding the weight and feeling it in his body. It was times like this that his body reminded him he wasn't as young as he used to be. This would have been a cake walk when he was a young Marine.
Fornell cursed violently as he slipped nearing the top. Jethro felt even more weight as Fornell lost his grip, questioning if this thing was going to kill him by chucking him down the stairs and crushing him.
Fornell got a grip again, another violent word escaping his mouth. "Your kid better write me a thank you note every time you change his damn diaper."
They both breathed a sigh of relief when they got it up the stairs and onto the landing. After taking a slight break they carried it into the room.
"Where do you want it?"
"In the corner for now."
"For now? Just so you know, if this needs moved again, you're on your own."
He laughed. He and Jenny still hadn't figured out where exactly everything was going in this room, or how much of the old furniture they needed to keep. For now, it was a mess. Between the big bed and furniture that had already been there, the crib, the bags of baby supplies, and the changing table.
"I remember when Diane and I had to set up Em's nursery. That was a nightmare. She kept changing her mind on everything. Buying so much that she was practically setting all the money on fire."
"Probably my money," Jethro growled. He was still bitter by how much she'd taken in the divorce. She'd been the worst by far. He'd barely kept the house. Rebecca didn't take anything, probably because she was the one who had been caught cheating in their bed by him. Stephanie was very fair, and he always felt the guiltiest about her. She hadn't deserved him using her to get over Jenny and to try to move on.
"More like all my money," the other man scoffed. "Pretty sure she spent all of yours as fast as she could out of spite, because she sure didn't act like she had much when she got with me."
Shannon and him didn't have a big nursery. They lived in a different house when Kelly was born. It was smaller, and they didn't have much money to throw around. Kelly more or less took his place in their room while he was deployed. Joann was the one who bought anything special and expensive for Shannon and Kelly.
"How's Diane doing?"
Fornell shrugged. "Still has her boy toy, and I really only see her when we exchange Emily or have something to fight about. When she found out about you and Jenny though, that sure seemed to rile her up. She was buttering me up trying to get all the details. You definitely hit a nerve."
"Don't see why she cares. She divorced me, we've both moved on."
Fornell laughed. "Yeah, right. You moved on, but she's always had a thing for you. She would have left me in a heartbeat to be with you again."
He grimaced. He should have never gotten with her, and she had gone through hell putting up with him. He knew she cared about him, and it made him feel guilty. He would always have a certain soft spot for all the women he'd been with. He wouldn't have been with any of them if they didn't mean something. But he didn't love them, and they deserved someone who actually loved them.
"Well, anyways, I'm gonna get a beer from your fridge."
He looked at his watch. "It's not even noon."
"You know what they say, it's five o'clock somewhere. Plus, I need to self-medicate early. Pretty sure I screwed up my back. Watch me never say yes to you again."
He smirked at the retort, watching the man leave the room. He always felt bad about Fornell and Diane. Tobias loved her, and that divorce was still really hard on the FBI agent. Diane had used the man to get over him, much like he'd used Diane to try and get over Shannon. Neither situation ended well. Much as Tobias insisted he despised Diane, much as they fought, Jethro knew Tobias would get back with her if she gave him a chance.
He scanned his eyes around the room, thinking about how much work was still ahead to prepare for this baby. He sighed, turning and leaving and heading to the stairs. Fornell appeared at the bottom of the stairs as soon as he reached them.
"Hey, where's the beer?"
Oh yeah, he didn't have any beer. He'd stopped buying it when Jenny started living with him. Didn't seem right to drink around her when she couldn't. "Don't have any."
"What? You always have beer."
He shrugged, making his way down the stairs. "Still got some bourbon downstairs."
"It's definitely too early for your paint stripper."
"I got water, milk, coffee, or tea."
"You're getting boring in your old age, Gibbs."
"Got a kid on the way, Tobias."
"Oh, I'm sorry, let me rephrase. You're getting boring now that your midlife crisis has caused you to have a kid in your crazy attempt to feel younger."
He glared, definitely taking offense to that jab. Jenny and the baby were not part of a midlife crisis. "Least I'm not as old as you. How old is Diane's new guy, anyway?"
Fornell was the one glaring now. He knew it was a low blow, but that was pretty much how they functioned when they communicated.
"Who the hell cares. Probably dyes his hair or something. I don't trust the guy. Plus, Victor? Why the hell did his parents name him that? Makes me think of an entitled vampire, or some rich guy from Europe who doesn't know how to drive a car."
He stared at the other man, not really thinking they had much room to make fun of first names. Maybe Diane really just had a fetish for weird names.
A ring sounded and Tobias cursed, reaching into his jeans pocket and pulling out his phone and looking at the number. He sighed, clicking a button and putting it to his ear.
"Agent Fornell."
Jethro knew this aspect of life all too well.
"Yeah. Okay. Be there in 30. Thanks."
"Good thing I didn't have beer," he commented as Tobias let out a sigh.
"I hate this job sometimes. Can't a guy just kick up his feet and relax?"
"Could always retire."
"I'm not that old yet."
"Coulda fooled me."
Fornell glared. "Ha, ha. You're hilarious, Gibbs. You could have your own stand-up comedy special." He grabbed his jacket and pulled it on before grabbing the door handle. "Next time you need someone to break their back, ask those useless kid agents of yours."
"I appreciate you helpin' me out, Tobias."
"Anyone appreciates free labor." He opened the door, walking out. "By the way, you owe me dinner."
"For this?"
Fornell turned around, raising an eyebrow at him. "For keepin' my mouth shut all those weeks about your secret-midlife-crisis-baby."
He chuckled, shaking his head. He knew he needed to get started on the next project on his mental list. He made his way upstairs, heading to the door that was always closed. He opened it, peeking in, eyes landing on the empty bed.
He could still see Shannon there in his mind. The way she'd giggle when he'd wrestle her onto the bed. The way she would smile at him in the mornings. The times he'd come home and find her and Kelly snuggled on the bed together, sleeping away.
He sighed, making his way over by the bed to the empty space on the bedside cabinet, sitting on it beside the boxes. He rested his head against the wall, looking down at the bed. He had boxes all in the corner beside him. Boxes were on the bed. Boxes were by the bed on the floor. He had a couple plastic sterilite storage containers with stuff by the bed, and a bunch of empty ones stacked together.
He looked to the open curtains, which he always left open because Shannon had loved that window, loved the way the light would shine into the room.
He grabbed the little black wooden box on the bed, opening it and looking down at the stack of pictures and pieces of paper. He remembered Shannon finding this one time, teasing him about some of his rules. They weren't all in here, but he remembered writing some of these down. He'd made a lot of new ones after they'd died. He perused through some of the contents, looking at the pictures and rules. Kelly in a Halloween costume, Kelly and Shannon together, a picture of Shannon's face he'd taken. More pictures buried below that he didn't even need to see. He'd memorized them all a long time ago.
It was a good reminder why pictures were so invaluable, and why he should probably buy a camera before the baby was born. He didn't have anywhere near as many pictures of his girls as he'd like. He should have taken more. Should have spent more time with them. Should have savored all of these moments so much more than he did back then.
But now it was time to savor the new moments, make new memories.
He closed the lid and put the box down. He took a breath, mentally figuring out what where to start. All of this he was going to move into the attic. Then he needed to dust and vacuum, because the room had a pretty good layer of dust. Then he needed to figure out the bed. The mattress just had a plastic cover over it, so he'd take that off. Should he get new bedding? Dig other bedding out of storage? Was it maybe time for a new bed?
Perhaps he'd let her decide what she wanted for the bed. It would be their bed now. Their room. It wasn't just his house anymore. She should be having a say in everything too. He'd let her decide what she wanted their room to look like, and what furniture she wanted. What side of the bed she preferred. Hell, if she wanted to move them into her house or move to a totally different house, he'd do it. Even if it would be painful to say goodbye to this one and all the memories. All he wanted was to be with her, no matter where it was.
So he got to work, picking up each box, one by one, and carrying them up to the attic.
"Jethro?" She called as she came in the door, wanting to talk.
"Up here."
She tossed her keys in the bowl and hung up her jacket, making her way upstairs. She went to their room, not finding him, and then down the hall to the nursery. He wasn't in there either, but she noticed he'd gotten the changing table in there. He must have been busy today. Then she peeked in the bathroom, still not finding him.
"Jethro?" she questioned again.
"In here." She turned her head, following his voice, his head suddenly popping out of another room. She raised her eyebrows, surprised by his location. It was one room she'd never been in. She'd popped her head in once when he was gone out of curiostiy, but she'd never gone in. It felt wrong to intrude when she'd seen a box on the floor with Shannon written on it in big letters. She knew it was one of those spaces that he didn't touch out of reverence. She understood. It had taken a long time for her to come to terms with her dad's study and his room.
She walked in slowly, hovering at the door, realizing the room was different from what she remembered. There were boxes and stuff everywhere before. Now it was all clean and cleared out. Nothing but a mattress and some furniture.
"Hey, hon. How was work?"
Wait...hon?
He had never called her that before. She was starting to feel like she was maybe in a dream. Seeing him here in a location he usually wasn't, which looked different, and he was calling her hon now?
"Jen, you okay?"
He was looking at her in concern. She blinked her eyes, her brain catching up. "Yeah, I'm good. Work was fine. What have you been up to today?" She realized he had a duster in his hand, and she found herself amused by how domestic he was looking. If only he had a little apron, then it would be perfect.
"Ah, you know, gettin' things done. Got Tobias over here earlier to help me move the changin' table."
"Agent Fornell?" She smirked, that must have been fun.
"Yeah. Now I'm just gettin' things cleaned up in here."
She wanted to ask why, but she also didn't want to cross any lines or make him feel like she was intruding in something personal.
"I noticed the changing table. Thanks for getting that done. It looks good in here too."
"Whaddya wanna do with the bed?" he asked.
She looked at the bare mattress, confused. What did it matter to him what she wanted? It was his space.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it's your room too," he said matter of factly, as if she should already be aware of what was going on.
Did she hit her head earlier? Or was she just dense tonight? "It's your house," she said simply.
"No, it's our house. We're gonna be sleeping in here, an' I want you to have what you want. Can get a new mattress and bedding, or you can bring your mattress and bedding from your house. Your choice, want you to be comfortable."
"Wait, we're sleeping in here?"
"It's the master bedroom," he shrugged. "Better than the guest bedroom we've been in. Better view, more room."
She swallowed, taking in the room. It was a change she hadn't been expecting.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
His face fell a little. "Do you like the other room better? We can stay there, if you want."
"No, Jethro, it's just…" she struggled to figure out what to say, not wanting to offend him. "It's just, I don't want to be in here if this room is special to you…you know what I mean? I don't want you to feel like you have to give this room up."
"Time to move on," he stated simply, shrugging. "Want you to have the best room. Probably gotta have the guest room open again anyway, in case anyone needs to crash here. Gotta utilize space, now that there'll be three of us."
He looked sure. Excited, even. So she didn't press any further. It felt a bit strange, knowing this must have been his and Shannon's room, and their bed. Now she was here, invading old sacred territory.
"You sure you're okay?" He asked. She realized he was watching her as she stared at the bed.
"Yes, sorry. Just taking it in, thinking about what we can do with decorating."
She realized she was making the poor guy nervous. He was standing there, his fingers twisting the duster in his hands anxiously.
She walked up to him, putting her arms around him and hugging him. "You sure you'd want to go mattress shopping with me? Could be hell for you."
He shrugged, chuckling lightly in her ear as he hugged her back. "Could be fun tryin' 'em all out."
"We'll get arrested if we have too much fun."
"Mm. Might be worth it. How was your meeting with SecNav?"
She sighed, pulling away from the hug. "It was fine. Not as bad as I thought it would be."
"Then what's wrong?"
She took a breath, shrugging. "I-I don't know. It wasn't anything we didn't already know. He wants us to be professional, if we're not we could both lose our jobs. And he wanted to know if I was sure about staying at NCIS after having the baby."
"What'd you say?"
"I said I didn't know."
He nodded, and she could feel his hesitancy. It was a tense subject with them, and one she just couldn't seem to make up her mind on. She knew what he wanted, he wanted her to stay home with the baby, like any good, traditional housewife would do. They'd had that discussion. She wanted to be at work, or at least, that's what she thought she wanted. But these days she wasn't sure, and it was confusing to be questioning the desires that had always been so strong with herself.
"He gave me until May 1st to decide if I'm staying on or not," she explained further. "Which was more time than I deserved. But it's almost too much time…I'm worried I won't be able to decide, and that I'll change my mind after I give him my decision. I don't want to regret the choice I make."
"If you decide to stay on, you can still change your mind after. It's a job, Jen. No one can stop you leavin'."
"I know. But I also want them to have adequate warning. I want to be professional. I don't want to say I'm staying and then force Leon to move here last minute if I change my mind right after coming back. I don't want to let down the Agency."
"Jen, if you want to keep workin' an' you're worried about the baby, I told you, I can stay home with him. I don't mind retirin' early."
She smiled. "Judging by last time, you really aren't as into retirement as you think you are."
"This time I won't be drinkin' with Mike all day. A baby is better company, trust me."
She laughed, or at least tried to. She knew she was anxious and not the best company right now. He moved behind her, his big hands enveloping her shoulders as he began to knead them. She couldn't help the moan that escaped her as he worked his magic with his hands, his thumbs kneading away at the perfect spot. She tilted her head back, resting it against him.
"Damn, that feels good," she sighed. "You think you can work those magic hands of yours on my back later? Your child is trying to break my back."
"Mm. Anywhere else you want my hands?"
She smiled. Men never were that fond of actual massages for very long. It was always just a quick prelude to sex for them.
"You give me a good, long back rub in bed, and you can put your hands anywhere you want after that."
