"Jethro! Jethro, get up! The baby's coming!"

She tried to get out of bed but she couldn't. Her belly was weighing her down to much. She tried to move with no success. Pain seared through her, and she knew she wasn't going to make it. It was all happening so fast.

"Jethro!" she screamed, trying to get some help from him.

Wait, where did he go? She realized she was alone in bed. She started to freak out, but there was no time for that, she had to push.

Through her tears, grasping the bed sheet beside her, she pushed with all she had. The pressure disappeared and she looked down.

But where was the baby? How did she lose the baby already? Did the baby die?

Her bed was covered in blood. She screamed, calling for Jethro, for help, for the baby.

Jenny bolted up in bed, waking up from the dream. She was breathing heavy and sweating. She looked down beside her, Jethro was there, stirring in his sleep and blinking his eyes open. She put her hand on her belly, confirming that she was still pregnant, that everything was normal.

"You okay?" he muttered groggily, barely awake.

"Just a bad dream, go back to sleep," she soothed.

"Mkay." His eyes easily slid closed.

She looked at the alarm clock beside her. 3 am. She sighed. Life was getting rough being over 30 weeks pregnant. It was difficult to find a position to sleep in, it was difficult to sleep with the baby kicking. When she did manage to sleep, she kept having the weirdest or unsettling dreams. She would get heartburn from various foods. She was short of breath and had to pee a lot. Her back was killing her, her hips were killing her, and her feet were killing her. Her boobs would leak on occasion. And she knew what Braxton Hicks contractions were now.

The doctor had warned her she'd have them, but it had still really thrown her off the other day. It was such an unfamiliar sensation, and she'd thought something serious was wrong. It was bad timing that it happened to occur when Jethro was in her office giving her a report, because it had freaked him out when she'd taken in a sharp breath, feeling her muscles tighten across her belly. He'd about dragged her to the hospital right then.

She wasn't sure she could take several more weeks of this. How did women make it to 40 weeks? Pregnancy was never comfortable, there were always bad symptoms at some point or another, but boy, making it past 30 weeks was just hell. She wanted to feel normal again. At the same time, she was starting to get nervous about giving birth. Her awful dreams certainly didn't help.

Then there were the other aspects of life that were gnawing on her mentally. Her job. Marriage. This house. Her house. The nursery.

There was still a lot to prepare for and get over with. She was honestly just wishing time would just skip ahead a couple months, so the baby could be here and those decisions would be made for her already. She had never had this hard of a time making decisions before. She was the type of person that when she made up her mind to do something, she did it. She knew she wanted to be an Agent, so she did it. She knew she wanted to be Director, so she did it. She knew she needed to leave Jethro when it came between him and her career all those years ago, so she did it.

What she didn't decide to do was get knocked up and settle down and be a family woman, which is why things were throwing her off so much right now. She did decide to have the baby in the end, and she did decide to be with Jethro, but all of this was unfamiliar territory. Family life had never been her thing. It had never been her goal.

But this damn baby had her attached and he wasn't even out yet. Despite how annoying his kicks could be when she wanted to sleep, and what he was putting her body through by growing in there, she couldn't envision life without him. She touched her hand to her abdomen. He was her little buddy. Always with her. And much as she'd never envisioned herself as a mom or any kind of woman who would coo over a baby, she couldn't wait to meet him. He was hers, hers and Jethro's, and it made a difference to her heart. Even if she didn't want to be some sentimental woman.


"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gib—" she narrowed her eyes at the empty desk, turning to the team, "where's Gibbs?"

"He went to lunch, with Jenny," Tony responded through a mouthful of burrito.

"Oh." Abby then shrugged, sitting in their fearless leader's desk. She eyed the team, all eating burritos.

"What did you need, Abby?" Ziva asked. "Perhaps we can help you."

"Oh, nothing. I was just bored, so I came to bug Gibbs. I was going to give him some more baby name suggestions."

Tony snickered. "He hates it when you do that."

"I know. He's taking all the fun out of this, you know. He won't let me throw the Director a baby shower, he won't tell me if the baby is a boy or a girl, he won't give me any names…he literally won't tell me anything!"

"Sounds like Gibbs," Tim shrugged, clicking away on his computer.

"But it's so boring. How often do any of us get to do baby stuff?"

"Hopefully never," Tony shivered. "Speaking of, I need to go buy more condoms."

Ziva laughed. "I doubt you need any."

"Hey, I woo plenty of the ladies, thank you. You never know when you might need a trusty rubber, especially if you try and pick anyone up at the bar."

"You have never gotten a woman at the bars when we have been with you," Ziva said.

He glared at her.

"Ziva's right, Tony. But guys, seriously, do any of you have any babies you get to hang out with? This is a rare opportunity for us. Plus, it's Gibbs' kid, and the Director's! I never thought we'd see a little Gibbs…a Gibblet! We have to take advantage of this, this kid is going to be part of our team, part of our NCIS family."

"It is not even here yet," Ziva stated.

"But it will be. And soon, judging by how the Director looks. Come on, guys, aren't any of you excited?"

The bullpen was silent, most of them almost seeming to ignore what she'd said.

"Babies are cute," Tim said, trying to chip in.

"You've all been with Gibbs too long," Abby huffed. "The fun has been sucked right out of you."

"It's just a baby, Abs," Tony shrugged. "We're happy for them, but it doesn't really affect any of us."

"Of course it affects us! It's Gibbs' baby. And like I said, it'll be part of our family."

"We probably will never see the kid," Tony retorted. "Gibbs keeps his personal life personal. He doesn't mix work and personal. Sure, his door has always been open to us and we've been able to crash at his place when we have needed to, but this is different. It's not like he'll be bringing the kid to work every day. I don't even know if he'll let any of us crash at his place anymore if we need to. He has a family now, it's not just him and the boat."

Abby sighed, feeling sad. Perhaps Tony was right. But she refused to not be a part of the Gibblet's life.

"I mean, we didn't know they were together until Jenny got sick," Tony continued. "We didn't know they were engaged until people noticed the Director's new bling a few days ago. Jenny keeps her personal life as private as Gibbs does. They could be married and we'd never know."

"If any of you pull that crap on me, I swear I will make you pay," Abby warned, glaring and moody. "If any of you get in relationships, or plan to have babies or get married, you better tell me. And I will throw you a party whether you want it or not. Life is supposed to have parties and celebration. No more of this quiet Gibbs personal nonsense."

They all gave a half-hearted agreement.

"I'm serious!" she warned. "Do any of you have anything to come clean on right now? Better to tell the truth than wait for me to exact my revenge. I know how to torture, and I have the tools to do it."

"No," they all said, shaking their heads and looking at least visibly nervous enough to satisfy her.

"Fine. I'll hold you all to it."

They heard the elevator on the upper floor ding and open, seeing the Director and Gibbs walk out. When they reached the stairs, Gibbs kissed her cheek and they murmured their goodbyes before Jenny headed to her office and he headed down the stairs. Abby couldn't help but smile at the cute little kiss on the cheek.

"So," she said loudly, smiling mischievously as he descended the stairs and got closer, "who wants to help me plan a baby shower?"

"Abs," Gibbs warned, glaring as he entered the bullpen. She just smiled at him, and then they stared each other down as he got to the front of his desk. He finally raised an eyebrow at her, questioning if she was going to get out of his seat or not.

She sighed dramatically, getting up. "Gibbs, you're not letting me have any fun."

"I know." He took his seat, putting his things away.

"You and the Director are being boring."

"I know."

"Gibbs, you're being very Gibbs."

He just looked up at her, both of them knowing there was no changing that.

"You're a bad influence on your team too," she informed him, before turning around and leaving him to stare at his team in question.


Living together wasn't always rainbows and roses. Sure, there were fluffy, cuddly, or sexy moments. There were times you were glad to just have the other person in the house. The assurance was comforting.

But it wasn't exactly something either of them was used to, especially her. They were so high on the clouds and in a different world in Europe that it was never quite as real there. But now it was very real. It was a very permanent feeling. Life wasn't easy, and a relationship certainly wasn't easy. It took constant work and effort. A lot of patience and compromise. Perhaps it was why she had never really wanted to be in a long-term committed relationship, because it took so much work, and she didn't want all that on top of her actual work.

There was patience that they were learning with each other. Habits and moods they had to adjust to. There were times they had to take deep breaths and not get into a fight, rather than take the fighting approach like they used to back in the day. They had both agreed they weren't going to get anywhere by fighting or closing up on each other, so it was something they were trying to figure out.

He put up with her being hormonal and emotional with her pregnancy. He put up with her being herself, which was someone who had never been eager to settle down and enjoyed work and being busy. She put up with his moods and frustrations, with his bottled up tendencies that he was trying to work on. She put up with his past, which wasn't an easy thing. It wasn't easy being in a house, being in a room, that she knew he had so many intimate memories attached to with his dead family. It wasn't easy knowing he'd been in so many marriages after that. But still, they were trying to learn each other, trying to work together, and she thought that was what mattered.

They were learning to talk, not be silent. They were learning to communicate, not fight.

That didn't mean they still didn't have their moments.

Between bed shopping, and setting up the nursery, and her not being able to decide on what she wanted, things had been a little tense over the last two weeks.

"Dammit, Jethro, I don't know!"

"Yeah, I can see that."

"The great Leroy Jethro Gibbs, always all-knowing," she scoffed.

"Jen," he warned.

"What? Maybe you should just make the decision. Then you'll at least be happy."

"I don't care what you do! I want you to be happy. You need to tell me what you want."

"You always say that! It goes both ways. You think I don't want you to be happy either?"

"Pretty hard to tell at the moment," he growled.

They glared fiercely at each other.

"I know you say you don't care, but I know you don't want to leave your job either. Why don't we just get a babysitter?"

"I'm not leaving my kid with a stranger," he snapped. "If you're stayin' at NCIS, I'm leavin'. He needs to be watched over by his family."

"What, now you're saying I don't care about our child?"

"No, all I'm sayin' is you need to tell me if I need to hand in my notice or not."

It felt wrong. She couldn't imagine that building without him. She didn't want to be the reason he left. He'd been there for so long, he was practically a part of the building itself. Being Director, she couldn't possibly approve of him leaving. Sure, his team could survive without him, they'd proved that before. But they shouldn't have to. She knew he loved it there, too. She knew work was a big part of him. Sure, he'd lessened that now that he had her and the baby on the way, but she couldn't imagine him not having it at all.

It felt like a lot to be on her shoulders. Not only did she have to have the baby, but she had to decide whether she was going to be jobless, or whether she'd rob the agency of the best agent they'd ever had. She'd kept flip-flopping the last two weeks on her decision. It seemed like every day she changed her mind on whether she'd stay on or not. She'd feel those little kicks that were getting stronger by the week, and decide that the little guy shouldn't be without her. Then she'd go to work and do her job, and look around and decide that she didn't want to be done just yet.

She was nearing her two year anniversary, and it certainly hadn't been as long as she'd envisioned being in. She imagined herself as Director for at least 5 years before maybe being transferred elsewhere or higher up. Ten if she could manage it, which would also make her the longest running director of NCIS history. But two? Or not even quite two? It felt like a cop out. It felt weak. It felt like a failure. No director had lasted that little before. Only acting directors lasted a short time, since they were just doing it until the real replacement could come along.

"You don't know what this is like!" she finally said. "It feels like an impossible decision. Why should I have to choose? Why can't the world let me have both?"

He ran his hand through his hair impatiently, finally taking a breath and shrugging. "I don't know, Jen."

"It's stupid."

"Yeah, it is."

She gave an angry sigh. "If I could just take our kid to work with me, this would be a lot easier. The US should become more European."

He gave a small nod.

"Jen, if ya wanna stay at the agency, I'll retire. I don't mind bein' with 'im. Done my time at NCIS anyway."

"I just-" she stopped, trying to reign in her emotions so she didn't cry, "I feel bad leaving him too. I don't want to go to work knowing I chose it over him. It feels wrong. I'll feel guilty all day."

"Lotta moms work now," he shrugged.

She knew when she thought of other peoples situations that she was in a much better position and shouldn't be complaining. There were single moms who had to rely on others or total strangers to watch their kids, in order to work and survive. Single dads too. There were couples who both had to work in order to pay for everything, and childcare was expensive on top of it. There were cases where one parent was disabled and couldn't work or raise a kid, so their partner had to not only get others to watch the kid, but also had to get someone to watch their spouse.

She was in the best position possible. Where she had a committed partner, and one of them could be at home with the kid while the other continued to work. She knew she shouldn't be as freaked out as she was. It wasn't like her working life was over if she chose their child. Her time as Director, yes. But she could work again when their kid was old enough to go to school. Which seemed so far in the future she couldn't even comprehend it. For now, she was just focused on actually getting the baby out in the first place.

She looked around the room they were in. They'd been moving things around in the nursery. That is, he'd been moving things, because he wouldn't let her touch anything. The bed he'd pushed into the corner right by the window, because they'd decided it could come in handy some nights. The crib was in front of the bed in the other corner. The changing table was up against the wall just a foot away from the crib, by the dresser that had already been in the room. The bassinet was waiting in the room until the baby was actually there, and then they'd move it later wherever they needed it.

She'd finally put away the bags of baby supplies. She'd folded the little onesies and other baby clothes and put them in the dresser in the room. The baby blankets were all in the crib. She'd put the diaper stuff in the cabinets of the changing table. The bottles had a place in the kitchen cabinet now. She had spent more time than she wanted to admit admiring all the baby clothes as she put them away, fascinated by how cute they were even though she'd already seen them before.

She'd changed out the drapes in the room, and was still debating if she wanted to maybe paint or do anything else to the general style of the room. She wasn't so sure about the olive green walls. But it was also a lot of work to pick a color and paint everything.

She and Jethro had gotten a new, bigger and comfier mattress in their new room. A task which had also proved to be a bit strenuous when they shopped because they disagreed on the way different beds felt. But they had found a good one in the end. Or, perhaps he had just caved in to what she liked because he was tired and didn't care anymore. The mattress people delivered it and helped Jethro get it up the stairs and into the room.

Then there was her house. She wasn't sure what to do with it. It just kept sitting there, hardly ever used by her. She dropped by a few times a week to get the mail, and once in a while she would stay and do some work in her father's study, but that was all the action it got lately. Noemi would dust once a week and check on the general state of things, but otherwise she now worked full time for another high up government official that Jenny had gotten her on with.

"You still gotta week to decide," he finally said, shrugging.

"Why don't you just make the decision for me."

"We both know that won't make you happy," he smiled. "You like makin' your own decisions."

"You're infuriating," she huffed. He shrugged.

Their other conversations about it had never gone so great either. She knew he wouldn't mind being with the baby, in fact she half wondered if he wanted to be home with the baby to get all the time he could as a dad. He'd talked about the regrets he had before, missing so much of Kelly's life because of work. But she also knew that he preferred she and the baby be safe, which meant he preferred she was the one home rather than working at NCIS. He was always implying her job was too dangerous. She didn't have much room to argue. She had a protective detail for a reason, plus she'd been abducted not even a year into her position.

She didn't like the idea of taking him away from the office. She also liked the idea of him with the baby, because she knew he would protect it at all costs. She knew he would be a better stay-at-home dad than she would be a mom. He would know what to do, he'd had experience before. He'd be a better parent than her. But she also didn't want to be a distant parent. She didn't want to be like her mom. She wanted to choose her kid, to prioritize her kid, to be a better mom than her own was.

"If we were millionaires, we wouldn't even have to work and we could both be home," she pointed out.

"Guess ya shoulda had a kid with one of your rich politician friends."

"You're damn straight, I should have," she sighed, smirking back at him.

She looked around the room again, deciding to change the subject. Clearly they weren't getting anywhere, and she didn't want to fight. "I think I want to paint the walls."

He sighed. "I thought you said you didn't care."

"I think I actually do. I'm really not sure about this color."

"What color do you want?"

"Hm…I'm not sure."

He looked pained, clearly dreading the thought of having to paint.

"Just definitely nothing resembling orange or red," she thought out loud, the gross colors at NCIS flashing through her head. "Blue and green are obvious picks. White and grays are always safe."

"It's already green," he said, looking baffled.

"It's olive green, Jethro. You want something bright and cheerful for a baby, or laid-back and comforting."

He looked at her like he didn't know her. She shrugged, blushing a little. Perhaps she'd been looking at magazines and caving into the glamorous styles of various nurseries. With patterns and fun things painted on the walls and big stuffed animals everywhere. Perhaps she'd become her own worst enemy and fallen for the things she said she'd never fall for. She was becoming soft.

He crossed his arms, looking around moodily, letting out an indifferent grunt. "If ya wanna paint, we're gonna have to get it done soon. Not much time left to get it done and air things out."

"I suppose I should grant your team some surprise time off so you can get to work then," she smirked.

He glared, and she went up to him, looping her hand into the muscle of his upper arm which was still crossed against his chest.

"I've got some paintin' supplies in the basement," he grunted. "We'll have to go pick a color and buy two or three gallons. Gonna need to drape all this stuff too."

"Look at you, all manly and knowing. It's sexy."

"You're just tryin' to butter me up."

"Mmm. Is it working?"

He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, a faint smirk playing on his face. "Maybe."

She smiled sweetly at him. "Good. Because I'd hate to find another man to paint this room for me."

"Ya better start butterin' again then," he protested, raising an eyebrow at her snark.

"That's what the new bed is for," she winked, patting him on the chest.


He heard the doorbell ring, giving a deep sigh. He wasn't quite sure how this had become a gathering. Apparently Jenny had mentioned something about picking colors in earshot of Abby. So now Abby was coming over to help the painting process. And apparently since it was some female thing to pick colors, like they apparently picked shoes and outfits together, Ziva had also gotten dragged into it. So now he was going to be surrounded by females while he tried to paint, rather than just enjoying the peace of doing it himself in pure quiet. He wasn't sure he could handle a social gathering, much as he loved all of them.

But he knew Jenny could probably use some female company. Especially Ziva, since they had been so close in the past.

He'd moved everything heavy away from the walls, and moved smaller items out in the hall. He was honestly getting sick of moving everything around and in and out of this room. He'd draped all the big furniture and the floor in plastic covering. It was strange and made him feel like he was in some sterile lab or hospital room. He remembered painting this room years and years ago, and now here he was, doing it all over again.

All they'd be doing today is applying a coat or two of white primer to cover up the existing color. Jenny was going to debate color swatches with the girls while they worked. He didn't like the idea of Jenny being around the paint fumes, but she was insisting on participating and just keeping the window and door open for air circulation. He knew arguing would be a losing battle. Besides, pissing her off with her pregnancy moods was a far more dangerous death sentence than it used to be.

He smoothed the tape he put down, giving it a critical eye and making sure it covered the edge properly. He'd been taping edges all morning, to make the trimming process easier and cleaner. If he'd been on his own he wouldn't even bother with the tape, he knew he had a steady hand, but he wasn't sure how adept the rest of them were at painting and trimming. He could hear the girls making their way upstairs. This would be a way to finally get Abby to calm down and feel included in some way. She'd been relentless, wanting to do pretty much anything to celebrate the baby or have some part in the whole thing.

"Hey, Gibbs!"

"Hey, Abs," he greeted back automatically. He turned to look at her, amused when he realized she was wearing the big red, long-sleeve coveralls from work that she always wore in the forensics garage. He was even more amused when Ziva popped into view, wearing the same coveralls. He couldn't help the smirk, he wasn't used to seeing Ziva in those.

"You look prepared," he commented.

"Always!" Abby chimed happily. "We're ready to be put to work!"

"She made me wear these," Ziva muttered, giving a distasteful look to the baggy red outfit.

"It'll protect your clothes," he nodded, agreeing with the assessment. He was wearing an old t-shirt and jeans. Jenny was wearing one of his old t-shirts too, and some old pair of sweatpants.

"Primer, rollers, and brushes," he said, pointing and indicating where they were piled on the draped floor. "Paint is ready to go. Grab a roller or brush and go for it."

He went back to what he was doing, missing the smirks of the women at his quick man instructions.

"So, Director, what colors are you thinking of doing after the primer is dry?"

"I was leaning between some blues, grays, and some greens," she commented. "And please, call me Jenny outside of the office."

She sure had done a lot of looking. He felt like they'd been looking at swatch samples for ages in that paint section of the store. She brought home quite a few final contenders to debate over.

"Blues and greens, huh?" Abby replied. He could hear the excitement in her casual tone. "No pink?"

"Jethro shot that suggestion down," Jenny quipped. "He didn't want any happy yellows or purples either. Apparently bright colors aren't really his thing."

He turned around and raised an accusatory eyebrow at that comment, not that any of them noticed because they were too busy talking and not working. He went back to his taping. Jenny had only teased those colors, but she'd never seriously considered any of them either. She had already seemed to have her mind made up in the blue, green, and gray range when they got there.

"He's not a fan of black either," Abby commented. "He just likes the colors he know will bring out those bright blue eyes of his."

He cringed at the tease, trying to ignore them and not give a reaction.

"But the standard cliché is to paint a baby's nursery blue or green if it is a boy…" Abby trailed off, clearly realizing what the gender was, but wanting confirmation.

"That's true," Jenny replied, and he could hear the amusement in her voice of keeping Abby hanging. "I've known more girls into aqua colors as opposed to boys though."

"Men are more simple, they do not care about colors and things that do not matter," Ziva commented.

He nodded his head as he listened, agreeing completely with her. He didn't see why they were painting. It was a room for the baby no matter what colors the walls were. The color didn't matter, it just mattered that the room functioned for its purpose. The baby certainly wouldn't care about the color. Not until he was old enough to have a favorite color. But from what he remembered, kids changed their favorite color on a weekly basis. He knew someday there would be marker or crayons decorating the wall too, when the kid would inevitably go through a wall artist phase as a toddler. They were good at destroying things.

But he wanted Jenny to be happy, so that was why he was painting. He wanted her to have anything she wanted, anything that would make all of this easier for her.

"You know, the colors used to not matter between the genders. Pink even used to be the traditional boy color while blue was for girls. But the old baby boomers switched it around."

"You're startin' to sound like Ducky," he said in response to Abby.

"Aw, thank you, Gibbs," she said, sounding truly touched. "Ducky is a man of wisdom. I can only hope to know half of what he does by the time I die."

He smirked, shaking his head and putting the tape down.

"But seriously, the gender colors are ridiculous," Abby continued. "A lot of guys look great in pink. I'm sure Gibbs could really rock it. But back to the subject, you guys are choosing the colors you are because you are having a boy, right?"

He and Jenny both smiled. He knew Abby wasn't going to give up that easy.

"The baby is a boy, Abs," Jenny relented. He was glad she just got it over with, because he wasn't sure he could take that question anymore.

Abby squealed in delight, clasping her hands and bouncing in place. "I knew it! I just knew it! It's so exciting! We'll have a little mini Gibbs running around. He'll look so cute!"

He went and grabbed a brush, ignoring the excited babbling and wondering how on earth Abby wasn't running out of breath. He held the brush up, giving the group of women a pointed look. "We gonna get to work, or are you guys just gonna stand around lookin' pretty?" he said loudly, interrupting Abby.

An hour and a half later, they had made solid progress. It went quick with four people tackling one room. Abby had painted many times before, for charities and friends. Apparently she'd even done painting with the nuns. He considered himself to be adequately experienced, he'd had quite a bit of painting under his belt in the past. Between his own house, his parents, neighbors he and his dad helped back in the day, and even fencing that he painted in Stillwater. But Abby, she became the real boss of the whole show. She and Ziva tag teamed while he and Jenny teamed up, one with the roller, one with the brush to do the trimming and clean up any paint runs from the roller. The first coat was drying now, and they needed to wait a bit before applying a second coat. He'd gotten Abby and Ziva to take Jenny downstairs for a break, under the guise of looking at the paint swatches together and having a snack. He really didn't want Jenny around the fumes any longer. Plus, it was hard for her to bend or move around too much, and she was making him nervous.

He could hear them all jabbering and giggling downstairs, and it brought a smile to his face. It was interesting seeing Jenny in a different element, as well as Ziva. Abby was always Abby, with everyone at all times. Jenny had her work personality and her personal one. Ziva was coming out of her shell a little more as time went on, but it wasn't a side of her he saw too often. She was always fairly focused and observant, unless she was teasing Tony or joking with the boys. But seeing the three women together outside of the office, it was a much more relaxed and giggly side for all of them.

But it also was far too much female in one room—he felt like he was only there to be teased by all of them. His manly pride was perhaps a little wounded. At the same time, he couldn't deny he loved all of them and was glad they were having fun.

"So, did you finish the baby gift you were making for Jenny?"

He turned around, seeing Ziva in the doorway watching him. He hadn't heard her come up the stairs. He would never not be impressed by her assassin level abilities.

"Yeah," he nodded. He dropped the brush in his hand and wiped his hands off on one of the old rags he had. He moved to the other side of the room, lifting off the white plastic that was covering the changing table, motioning to it with his hand. Ziva walked to it, standing in front and admiring it.

"It looks nice."

"Thanks."

They were silent, just staring at it.

"My father never did such things," she said.

He grit his teeth. The little he had heard of her father from her or Jenny made him dislike the man immensely. He always felt bad for Ziva, with her past. The way she was raised, her dad, losing her mom, sister, and taking the life of her own brother to save him. The girl had been through hell.

"When my mother died…" Ziva paused, clearly reigning in her emotions, "we were pretty much raised by his workers. My…mother…" she swallowed, hesitating, "never told me what kind of a…" she stopped, looking for a word, "man," she decided, "my father was."

He took a breath, feeling immensely sorry for her.

"Perhaps she thought I was not strong enough to handle it."

"Nah, she was just bein' a mom," he said.

"How do you know?" she asked, looking at him.

"Perspective."

She studied him for a moment, giving a small smile. "Are you happy to be a father again?"

"Yeah," he nodded, smiling. "Never stopped bein' a dad, though. Family isn't just DNA."

Ziva was studying him, seeming almost hesitant at his implication.

"Ziver," he said, staring at her, "you know, anything you need, you can always come to me, or Jenny. You're family too."

Her mouth trembled, a small smile playing on her lips as she tried to not get emotional. He pulled her into his side, giving her a comforting squeeze as he pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

He heard the other two girls coming up again, hearing Abby and Jenny talking about how they really couldn't decide on colors unless they were in the actual room and could compare the lighting and stuff. He shook his head, knowing these girls were going to keep him on his toes all day long. He released Ziva, giving her a smile before the other two came in and asked them to help them narrow down colors. He cringed seeing them tape the many paint color samples on the almost dry wall, realizing it would be a while before they got a second coat on. He was sure this narrowing down process would take at least an hour. Perhaps he would just paint around them.


Jenny's hands shook as she put the phone down. She looked around her office, taking it all in. It was hitting her that it wasn't going to be hers much longer. She'd just made sure of that.

"I've decided to resign," she'd told SecNav.

It had been probably the most tense and awkward call she'd ever had in her life, simply because of how hard it was for her. Her voice was shaky, and she couldn't help the nagging feeling in her head that she was probably making the wrong decision. SecNav hadn't been bad about it. He'd been straightforward, he'd thanked her for her service, and he hadn't shamed her in any way. She'd been expecting some sarcastic comment, but he'd been surprisingly nice. Perhaps because he was very busy, per usual, or perhaps because he was excited to get Leon on board as a male Director.

That was what pissed her off about all of this. It felt like she had failed in her pursuit of showing all the chauvinistic men that being a woman didn't matter. Instead, she'd proved them all right.

She stood up, crossing her arms, taking a breath. She felt all over the place right now. She paced over to her bookshelf, looking at the picture of her grandfather holding her toddler self, her dad on one side and a cousin on the other. All those men were dead now. But there she was, a happy smiling toddler, with people who loved and protected her.

That was why she had decided to quit.

She wanted her baby to know he was loved. She wanted him to be safe with her.

She didn't want to neglect him like her mother had with her. She wanted him to have one stable figure who was there for him at all times. Her father was gone a lot. Her grandfather, who she loved as fiercely as her dad, was taken by cancer by the time she hit her teens. Their housekeeper, María, was probably the most present figure in her life. But never did she have someone who was truly there in a parent capacity, all of the time. Her child could have both parents be present. A mother who chose to be there, and a father who wasn't in another country on military duty.

When she'd finally come to her decision, she knew she had to quit. She had no other choice. If she stayed on as Director, it put her family at risk. It put a target on her baby's back, and she couldn't handle that on her conscious. It was different when it had just been her. When she started as Director, and the entire time she'd been an Agent, all she'd had to worry about was herself. She didn't have a husband or children to think about. She'd been taken hostage last year, but it hadn't really mattered, because if she died, she wouldn't have been leaving anyone behind or putting them in danger.

But now it was different.

Now she had a kid who would be a target too. Jethro was already a target with his job—but having two parents who are targets, two parents who make you a target because of association?

What if her baby was taken hostage in order to threaten her and NCIS?

It was unacceptable.

She knew she couldn't handle the stress of that. She couldn't handle her baby being in danger too. He needed her. She wanted to be a present parent—so here she was, she was going to be a present parent. She'd just made sure of that by resigning. She had no other choice now.

SecNav said they'd take her back in another capacity in the future if she wanted. So it wasn't like it was all over. Perhaps she could see if there were any part time gigs with NCIS that she could do from home.

Still…

She looked around her office again, finding herself pacing and feeling off her game. She went to her door, greeting Cynthia and asking if there were any messages, before she wandered out onto the catwalk. She stared down at the office, watching everyone doing their jobs. She could see Jethro's head by his team's monitor, clearly all of them updating each other on their current case. He looked like his usual stern boss self, glaring at them for whatever nonsense they were talking about instead of focusing on the case. It always made her smile when she watched from up here. It was a stark reminder of her days as his probie. When she and Decker and Burley would go off-topic and drive Gibbs nuts. But he loved it at the same time. She'd seen many people crack him, make him smile or laugh against his will. He was a guy who had a time and a place for work and a time and a place for laughter, but he could be broken. She'd sure done her best to break him many times when he was her boss.

Ziva reminded her of herself, standing there with all the boys. More driven and feisty than any of them, and would take any of them on in a fight—yet still the woman, so the boys would take it easy on her. They knew not to mess with her too bad, but they also couldn't help but melt in her womanly presence and be easily taken advantage of by her.

And Jethro had a deep bond to Ziva that Jenny had never seen with anyone else. The kind of bond that could only be brought about by her killing her own brother in order to save him. They'd only known each other just under two years so far, so it was likely only the beginning stages of their working relationship.

She wondered what lay ahead for all of these young agents. What kind of futures were in store for them. How long would they all be a team? Eventually people would move on. Move to different agencies, get their own teams, do missions in other countries, quit, or even tragically die. She'd seen it all with people at NCIS over the years. It was rare for anyone to stay in one place for too long. Gibbs was probably one of the only people she knew here who was still in the same place as when she first joined.

Jethro caught her eye, raising an eyebrow as if to question why she was watching them. She knew that while he always tried to act as if it bothered him when she watched, as if she was criticizing him, he secretly enjoyed it. She raised an eyebrow back, smirking at him in a haughty way, challenging him. His lip quirked up, a smile tugging at his lips, until one of his teammates said something to him and distracted him again.

She took in a breath, eyes glancing over the whole lower office. Probably none of these people would really miss her all that much. A boss was a boss. Bosses were all easy targets to hate and generally pretty replaceable. It could be pretty lonely at the top. Not much had changed when she took over for Morrow, and it was a very quiet and quick ordeal that some hadn't even noticed for a while. Leon Vance, much as she hated to admit it, would be a good boss too, and probably could also slide in easily and somewhat unnoticed. Perhaps one thing that made her different from Morrow was that she was an attractive woman, and that caught the attention of many men, and even some jealous women.

She didn't have that edge as much anymore. She was no longer single with a great figure. No longer a target of the eye to men. Now she was glaringly pregnant, and the attention she drew now was more along the lines of concern and even disgust. She was treated differently by people, and it was honestly frustrating.

Jethro's eyes went back to hers, and she watched as he dismissed his team to their next tasks and then made his way up to her, taking the stairs two at a time. She stayed put, leaning over the railing as she looked out at the office, smirking at how easy it was to distract him. At least he still drooled over her. He was the one that mattered, after all. Even if she didn't quite understand how he could possibly still find her attractive when she looked like this.

He had a mischievous look in his eyes, sauntering over to her in a smug way when he made it to her level. She pretended to ignore him, feeling his shoulder nudge hers as he joined her in leaning on the railing and looking at the office.

"Director," he greeted smoothly.

She could feel his smug eyes piercing into her, trying to break her, and she did her best not to crack and smile.

"Special Agent Gibbs," she returned, trying to sound as professional and unaffected as possible.

"Any reason you're watchin' my team?"

"You act as if you are the only people down there. I hope you realize that your team is not my only priority, Agent Gibbs?"

He gave a low chuckle. "Guess I'm biased."

"You keep standing here this close to me, and you are going to make people question our professionalism," she pointed out, finally turning her head to look at him, giving him a smile.

His eyes darted to her lips, then down to her chest and back up again to her eyes. She wondered if he ever realized just how much he did that. Men were never subtle with checking women out. He gave a small shrug of his shoulders.

"They already know anyway," he said dismissively. His eyes went back to her lips and she couldn't help but crack, snickering at his rogue behavior. He was too easy.

She gave a light shrug too. "I guess it won't matter much longer anyway. My days are officially numbered."

He went still beside her, staring in question, clearly trying to figure out what response to formulate. "You talked to SecNav?" he finally said.

She hadn't told him she had made a decision, she hadn't told him she was telling SecNav today. She was a day early, tomorrow was her deadline of May 1st. She figured it was easier to just finally get it out of the way today, on a Monday. No point in dragging it out another night when she knew what her answer was. But the whole thing had been something she needed to do on her own. Something she needed to take her own time with. It was her job she was sacrificing, her goals and dreams that were changing. Any time she and Jethro had talked about it, she couldn't help but get defensive and angry and want to change her mind out of pure stubbornness. This way she could just internally accept it herself, without feeling like someone else was pushing her in any direction. She could feel like she was somewhat in control of it.

"I resigned." She was trying to keep her voice steady, but she was feeling the emotion hit her now that she'd said it out loud. Admitted that her time was short. "So I guess you won't have me hovering up here watching you anymore, Special Agent Gibbs," she said, trying to chuckle, but realizing she sounded hollow.

He was silent for a few seconds. "Best damn Director I've ever had," he finally said.

"Yeah, right," she scoffed, trying to brush off her emotions, feeling tears threatening to well in her eyes.

"I mean it, Jen. I like you hoverin' over my team. Like seein' you up here. Good view from down there."

"Shut up, you're going to make me cry," she said gently, trying to smile and ignore the fact that her eyes were clouding up. If her mascara ran, he was going to get the blame.

"Wanna go somewhere private, talk about it?"

"Most of the time, you don't have talking on your mind when we go somewhere private. So forgive me if I don't believe you," she teased, still trying to ease her emotions.

"How 'bout both then?" he retorted, smiling at her.

She chuckled, discreetly wiping a finger under her eye. "I don't think I can talk about it. Not yet. I need to pull myself together first, accept it."

He brushed a finger across the back of her hand, clearly knowing that was about the most he could get away with in terms of physical comfort in the public professional setting. "When we get home?" he asked quietly.

She nodded. "It's a date."

"Mm, like the sound of that." There he was, giving her that smug look again as his eyes darted down to her chest and lips again.

She shook her head at him, smiling widely. "Get back down to your team before you give me reason to file a sexual harassment charge."

He chuckled, giving her one last smile before he turned around and headed back to his team. She realized it was going to be a long few weeks of wondering just how many moments she had left of enjoying the routine and people that she'd gotten so used to.


When he'd sent his team home for the night, he was aware that she hadn't left yet. Unless she had snuck out when they were down in Abby's lab. But he had a feeling she was still here. He knew the decision she'd made today was probably one of the hardest decisions of her life.

He grabbed all his things and turned off all the desk lights in his teams area. He paused at the big window, staring at all the lights of the city shining through the dark, glittering off the Anacostia. He made his way up to her office, opening her door softly and peering in. She was standing at her window, looking out at the same view he just had been. He walked over to her, putting his arm around her waist and hugging her to his side as he looked out with her. Her head tilted to the side, resting against his shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

There was a long pause as she considered. "I will be."

He gave her a squeeze into him. "Sorry, Jen. I know this wasn't what you wanted."

"What can I say, I always set my standards too high. Can't have it all." She turned from the view and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him. "Besides," she whispered, "I have what I really want."

He rested his cheek against the side of her head, pressing a kiss there and keeping one arm securely around her, placing his other hand on the side of her stomach that was pressed in between them. He had what he wanted too.

He knew she was sacrificing everything for them, and he wished he could convey how grateful and sorry he was. Wished he could somehow pay her back for her sacrifice, and give just as much as she had. He felt like he'd been useless this entire time. She was throwing away her dream job, that she'd worked forever for, to stay home with their baby. He was the one who had put her in this position. Despite everything, and her own wants, she had actually gone through with the pregnancy. She could have chosen to never go through with it. She could have chosen to keep her job. Or he could have stayed home with the baby.

But here she was, sacrificing it all for a family even if that had never been what she had dreamed of, even if it meant saying goodbye to her other actual dreams.

And while he felt horrible that she was having to say goodbye to this job, because he knew just how much it meant to her…he was beyond relieved that she was going to be done. It had shaken him enough when she'd been taken hostage last year. He didn't want any repeats of that. The idea of her home with the baby was so much more calming than the idea of her still dealing with top-level Navy threats. While he had been perfectly willing to stay home with the baby while she worked, he wasn't sure he would have been able to do it with peace of mind, knowing she was still in such a dangerous position. She had a security detail for a reason. He wouldn't have been able to sit still at home, he would have been constantly swinging by the office and checking in. She could handle her own, but it didn't mean he wanted her to have to. He didn't like her having a constant target on her back.

This was better. They'd both be safer. He'd give anything to stay home with them, to not miss a single moment. But they did need an income, and he'd rather be the provider with the target on his back, as opposed to worrying about her at her job.

But it didn't stop him feeling bad that she was losing the career she had loved. Especially with the way she began to cry on his shoulder, her body shaking lightly against his. He rubbed his hand across her back, trying to be there for her while she let it out. He was getting very used to dealing with her tears. She'd been very hormonal and tearful during her pregnancy, sometimes just crying over the most random things. But this wasn't random. This was something that had meant everything to her ever since he'd first met her. This was something she deserved to mourn and miss.

He ran his hand through her hair, trying to soothe her. "How 'bout we get your favorite food, and then I take you home," he suggested through her sniffles.

She nodded against his shoulder, still holding tight onto him. He pressed another kiss to her head, pulling apart from her and rubbing his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping away her remaining tears. He gave her a gentle smile, trying to assure her as he rested his hand on her cheek. "I love you," he whispered.

She smiled despite her watery eyes. "You damn well better," she retorted quietly, giving a nervous laugh as another tear rolled down her cheek.

He did though, and he knew he always would.


He groaned underneath her, closing his eyes as her hips gyrated against his. He opened his eyes, staring at her breasts bouncing above him. That combined with her moaning was close to his undoing. He reached up, cupping one of her breasts gently and gliding his thumb around the nipple, a drop of wetness leaking out from her nipple onto his thumb.

This was one of many new types of things that came about with sex during pregnancy. Sex was still great, but definitely different. There were times during her pregnancy that she was insatiable, trying to get him into bed any time she could for multiple rounds. There were times she wasn't in the mood for long periods and really not wanting him to touch her all that much. Then there was her insecurity of her looks on top of that. Sometimes she was so worried about being fat and large, and it took a lot of work from him to assure her she was still sexy to him and that he wanted to have sex with her—that he very much desired her clothes off and the lights on.

Then add in things like when her breasts were tender at the beginning of pregnancy, and now that she was nearing the end of pregnancy her breasts produced tiny drops of liquid when stimulated. He also had to not think too much about the baby being there. While he loved the little guy and found his movements fascinating, he didn't appreciate it as much when they were in the bedroom getting hot and heavy. He'd learned to not keep his hands on her stomach at all anymore while they had sex, because the experience of the baby kicking against his hand as he went at it with Jenny was beyond unsettling and a definite mood killer. He also tried not to look at her stomach much when she was on top, for the same reasons.

They were also very limited in the positions they could do, and Jenny was no longer as flexible or energized as she used to be. But adjusting to the changes pregnancy brought on wasn't too difficult, because sex with her was just as amazing as it always had been. He'd never turn down a romp in the sheets with her. They were also just more bonded than they had been. Her being pregnant, having their child, marriage on the horizon—it added a whole new sense of trust and security than they'd had before. Sex wasn't just about having fun and getting off like it had been back in the day, there was a lot more meaning now.

She was panting, her hips slowing a little, whimpering his name. He adjusted underneath her, pulling himself up and anchoring her hips to his as he took over. She squeezed her arm between their bodies, putting her hand down and helping herself along as he went. She was moaning in his ear, her breasts pressed between them, and he knew he was very close to losing it. There was no way he could hold out much longer.

"Jen?" he questioned, panting with her.

"Keep going," she pleaded, "I'm almost there."

He did his best to keep going hard and deep, the stomach between them a little in the way. He had to fight the urge to put her on her back and go hard above her like he used to do. He felt her hand move faster, heard her whimpers increase and get more labored as she moved her hips with his. Their bodies were slippery and hot against each other.

"Jethro," she moaned, her hips gyrating even faster before she finally let out her telltale whimpered groan. She went still against him, her fingernails from the hand on his back digging into his skin as he felt her convulse around him. He kept his hips moving through the feeling, right on the edge as he pressed his face into her breasts. She let out another moan of satisfaction, clamping around him, and that was his undoing.

He held onto her tight, feeling his release shoot through him, his hips moving with each surge. He stayed still, breathing heavily against her chest as he came back to earth. He collapsed onto his back, wiping his hand down his face as she moved gingerly off of him and lay beside him.

"That was good," she panted, her hand moving through his chest hair absentmindedly. "If I wasn't going to be late, I'd ask you for more."

"There'll be another plane," he chuckled, stopping her hand on him and intertwining his fingers with hers.

To be honest, he didn't want her to go. He didn't like the idea of her traveling on planes for so many hours in her condition. It didn't seem safe for her to go with as pregnant as she was. She was going to Paris for an overseas conference. Or as Jenny kept making clear, an "Interpol Anti-Terrorist Conference". She apparently didn't like him joking around that she was just going there to shop.

SecNav hadn't liked the idea of her going in her condition either, but she had insisted. Still, her being 35 weeks along was majorly pushing it. He wished he could go with her, so he could watch over her. It was also strange, knowing she'd be in Paris without him. It was a place full of memories for them. The worst part of it all was that she'd decided to make him be the acting director in her absence. He didn't understand why he had deserved that punishment on top of it all.

He had a feeling she'd insisted on going because she knew this was probably the last time she'd get to travel for work. She had clearly been hell bent on enjoying the last of her Directorship as much as possible. It had been a week since she'd handed in her resignation, and she hadn't announced it to the building yet and was determined to work right up until she went into labor. He thought she was crazy and she was freaking him out, but he also knew he couldn't really blame her. She may as well enjoy the last of the job she'd worked so hard to get.

When she'd gotten herself up and into the shower, he went down to make breakfast for her. When she came down to eat, he carried all her luggage down the stairs and to the door for her, worried she'd try and attempt it herself. Then he kept an eye for her detail through the window while she did her millionth check of making sure she had everything.

"Detail is here," he shouted, seeing the black SUV pull up to the curb. He saw one of the men get out, doing a sweep of the area with his eyes and making his way to the door. He went up to the door to let the man in, hearing her curse as she grabbed the last of her things upstairs.

He nodded to the other man, reaching out to shake his hand.

"Special Agent Gibbs," the man greeted.

"Agent Johnson. How ya doin'?"

"Ah, same old. Think I got everything packed. How are you?"

"Same old too."

They released their hands, and waited.

"Director doing okay today?" Johnson asked. He could tell the man was just as nervous about her going as the rest of them.

"Yeah, she's good. Worried she forgot something I guess."

"My wife is the same way."

He smirked at the response. "Jen, ya ready?" he shouted up the stairs.

She appeared, her purse and coat slung over her arm as she made her way down the stairs. She double checked her purse as soon as she made it to the landing.

"Okay, I think I have everything."

Gibbs and Johnson both grabbed her luggage, hauling it outside and into the SUV as she made her way behind them. She put the things she was carrying in the car, and then turned around bumping into him as he hovered behind her. He steadied her, smiling at her as she faced him.

"I guess this is goodbye," she said.

"Only for a week," he shrugged. He was trying to be calm, but his stomach was turning. He was really worried about her being on this trip. He realized he wasn't going to feel okay until she was back here again, safe in their home where he could watch over her. He was paranoid something would go wrong. What if she went into early labor on the trip? What if something happened on the plane?

"Promise me you won't burn my building to the ground while I'm gone," she said.

"Eh, can't promise much," he shrugged. "I'm not director material."

She smacked his chest, glaring at him. "We both know you could be director if you wanted to. You're just too stubborn."

He smirked at her, shrugging again. But now it was his turn to be serious with her. "Promise me you'll take it easy and be safe," he said, staring at her intensely.

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "It's not like I'm going to a shoot-out. All I'll do is listen to boring lectures all week while we all sit in comfy chairs. I'll barely be moving, and I'll get to eat good food in my off time. It's basically a vacation. Plus, I have these lovely men to protect me while I listen to lectures and eat food."

He knew she was right. Perhaps their past in Paris was part of the reason he was so paranoid. His memories there didn't exactly make it seem like the safest place. But he knew not to push the subject anymore. She had a plane to catch, and there was a bored and waiting audience watching their goodbye.

"Just want you both safe," he said. He gave her a quick kiss and then they hugged briefly. "Have fun."

"You too. Enjoy having your home to yourself again. I love you, Jethro."

"Love you too, Jen."

He helped her into the car, and then before he knew it they were off, leaving him standing at the curb watching them disappear, hoping she'd be safe. He sighed, knowing he needed to get into the office for his temporary duties. He still was a bit bitter that she was tying him to a bigger desk all week. He really wasn't looking forward to all the political nonsense and legal games.


He banged his head against the desk dully, over and over. He was bored. He hated this.

The crackle of the phone intercom sounded. "Your team is here to see you."

He stopped banging his head, glaring at the phone as he looked for the stupid button he was supposed to press again. "Yup," he simply acknowledged back.

The team burst in, Tony looking around as if it was a new office. "Nice digs, Boss."

"Not my digs," he muttered darkly. "You guys need somethin'?"

"We just came to update you," Tony shrugged.

He raised an eyebrow in question. As far as he was aware, they didn't have a case.

"On what?" he scoffed.

"We just wanted to let you know we are good, and still have nothing to do."

He glared at Tony. He was honestly jealous. He'd rather have nothing to do down there than be up here with pure nonsense to do. It was only his second day, and he pretty much planned to shoot himself should anyone decide to make him do this again. It made him just aware of how much power Jenny had over him. He never would have agreed for anyone else.

"What do you think of it so far?" McGee asked innocently.

He directed his glare to that agent instead, questioning the sanity of him to even ask such a question.

"Um, I mean, it just seems, you know, different, and…" McGee trailed off. "The Director seems to like it, so…"

"The Director is crazy, McGee," he snapped. "She should've stuck to field work, like a sane person."

They all raised their eyebrows in surprise.

"If any of you know what's good for you, that stays in this room," he muttered.

Ziva smirked, while McGee nodded enthusiastically and Tony mimed zipping his mouth shut.

"No worries, boss, our lips are sealed."

They all just awkwardly stood there, and he glared again. "I can find you somethin' to do if you're bored."

"Bored? What is that?" Tony joked, backing away slowly towards the door. "I mean, we've got stuff to do, right, guys? We just wanted to make sure you were good, check in and all that." He flashed a smile as he reached the door, indicating with his head that they should follow him. "Bye, boss."

But it certainly wasn't the last he saw of them. Three hours later they'd barged in with lunch in tow, and he'd found himself sitting with them at the conference table, eating and talking. Clearly they missed him and were bored with having nothing to do. Plus, DiNozzo really liked Jenny's office. He'd ended up flipping on the tv, and somehow they'd all ended up watching the military news updates for an hour together. Perhaps he was bored too. But he wouldn't go all the way to say he missed them…

"Why don't we all have uniforms?" DiNozzo whined, watching the military men on the tv. "Girls love a man in uniform. Our job is cool too, so we should get to wear something cool. We should all get to dress in fancy suits like we're in MI6."

"One should not need a uniform to perform a task," Ziva said.

"Plus, imagine all the upkeep," McGee piped in. "We deal with blood and dirty environments. You don't want to ruin a five thousand dollar suit just chasing someone out in the field. Better to just wear more simple stuff."

"If James Bond can do it, why not the real thing?" Tony continued.

"You just said it, we're real. Bond is fictional," McGee shrugged. "Fictional people can do anything they want."

"So, Mr. pipe-smoking Gemcity, does L.J. Tibbs do whatever he wants?"

Tony's question had McGee go silent, and Gibbs felt the young man staring at him in horror. His book had caused a case for them weeks ago, even making all of the people based on the characters targets. The whole thing had been awkward. There was maybe a part of him that was partially flattered about L.J. Tibbs, but it was honestly more weird than anything. He didn't know how to react or respond. DiNozzo had kept teasing him, even Jenny had teasingly called him Agent Tibbs. The most he could really do about the whole thing was be silent and hope people left him alone.

McGee was saved having to answer by Cynthia walking in. "Special Agent Gibbs, did you…"

She abruptly ended whatever she was saying when she saw all of them sitting there together staring at the tv. He heard her give a frustrated sigh.

"I'm guessing you didn't look over that review."

He turned in his seat, looking back at her, not giving an answer. In any normal circumstances he would have wrung his teams necks for not working for so long. But if he was forced to be in the big chair against his will…well, he figured he didn't really care.

"You need to finish it now," Cynthia said, glaring at him in exasperation. "I need to send it off with the acknowledgment report." She reminded him of many women in his past, pushy and expectant. It made sense she worked for Jenny.

"Come on, team," Tony said, standing up, looking amused by Gibbs' torment. "We should probably let the boss get back to work." He flicked the tv off as they cleared off the leftover lunch remnants on the table.

He went back over to the desk, glaring at their amused faces as they walked out. He gave Cynthia a look, raising his eyebrow in annoyance as she stood in front of his desk. She glared back, pointing to the folder in the organizer that he was supposed to be looking over. He sighed, grabbing it and putting on the damn reading glasses.


"These files have to be reviewed by Friday."

He continued to watch the Marine battle report on the tv. "Mm-hmm. I'll get to them."

"Tomorrow's Friday."

He glared, turning around in frustration. He'd been battling Cynthia all week.

"Had a wife like you once, Cynthia," he said, going back to the desk. "I divorced her."

"Beat her to it, did you?"

He eyed her before sitting down. It was a damn good counter, but he wasn't going to admit it. He'd stretched the truth anyway. Diane was the one she reminded him of, but she'd divorced him. The only one he'd actually divorced was Rebecca, but that was because he'd found her in their bed with another man.

He put on his glasses, looking to the stack of folders and picking up the first one. He let out a sigh, dropping it on the desk. He looked at the case name and then down at the name of the agent who was in charge, Jeff Gillman. He signed off immediately. He had no doubts about Gillman's trustworthiness and honest reporting. There was no need to open it and check it all. He smiled, waving his hands in ease as he looked at his signature in the Director's signature box. This was easy.

"You didn't read it," Cynthia fussed.

"Scoletti case. I know the case agent. Jeff Gillman. He's a good man." He nodded, tossing the report in the out box before he grabbed the next folder.

"The Director doesn't want Justice not going to trial because of a procedural error."

"Well, then the Director should be here instead of shopping in Paris all week."

He knew she hardly had time to shop, and he knew this because they didn't have any time to talk. They were on different timezones, and when they tried to catch each other it was only for a minute before she got pulled into some other meeting or conversation. When she was free he was sleeping. He missed her. He couldn't deny it. He missed her in the house, in the bed, in the office. That was probably why he was most bitter about this whole thing. She was gone, off in the city of love, where they themselves initiated their love. And he was here, alone, worried about her and bored out of his mind doing her job.

"An Interpol anti-terrorist conference isn't shopping."

"Yeah," he muttered, signing off on the next case.

"Know him too?" she demanded.

"Yep." He tossed it in the box too, grabbing the next one. "Don't worry. Justice has its own procedural problems.

This one made him pause. He didn't recognize this name. "Who's Special Agent Grisham?"

"Transferred in from San Diego."

"Hollywood Special Agent," he scoffed. He held it in front of him, handing it to her. "Rejected."

"You have to give a reason."

He stared at her, the phone interrupting their stubborn staring contest. She reached for it and he shoved his hand over hers, stopping her from picking it up.

"It's a private line," she said. He just stared in challenge at her some more.

She pursed her lips as it rang again, sighing in frustration and lifting her hand away, clearly worried it would go to message. She glared at him and he gave her a victorious look, amused by it all as he picked up the phone.

"Hello, Cynthia."

He couldn't help but smile at the sound of her voice. He stayed silent, figuring he'd mess with her a little.

"Hello?" she said after a few seconds, sounding worried. "Cynthia?"

"Nooo…" he drawled obnoxiously.

"Jethro." He could hear the smile in her voice. "I should have recognized the heavy breathing."

He smiled. He realized he'd even been missing her witty little comebacks.

"Is the Agency intact?"

"I cut it up into small bitsy pieces and sold it to the three-letter boys," he quipped back.

"I take it walking in my heels has presented a challenge."

"You don't wear heels anymore," he snarked back, knowing it would get to her. Not having her precious heels had seemed to be one of her biggest trials with the pregnancy.

"If you can't take walking in my current ugly flats, you definitely couldn't take on my heels."

"You feelin' okay?" he asked, doing his customary check-up of her health. He'd been paranoid she'd go into early labor in Europe. He hated that she was traveling when she was this far along.

"I'm fine. Still fat and waddling along. All the men in Europe used to flirt with me and kiss my hand. Now they all take one look at my massive belly and avoid me like the plague."

"Good."

She snorted. "I knew it made you jealous back then."

"Hard to compete with a guy who has an accent."

She laughed.

"I accepted some speaking requests for you," he said next, a gleam in his eye as he looked at Cynthia who was rolling her eyes. "Figured you could go out with a bang before you leave." It was his own little mischievous rebellion for her putting him in this position. He knew Cynthia would deny them, plus Jenny would be gone before she could do any of them anyway.

"Which speaking requests?"

"Women for Women, St. Paul, Minnesota chapter. The eighth grade class of Hondo Middle School in Hondo, Texas. The teacher, she's an admirer. Society of Preservation of Barbershop Quartets."

"You're not serious."

"Okay, you got me, not about the barbershop quartets. But I did accept," he paused, looking at the pile he had and flipping through them, "two, three...four others for you."

"You're hilarious, Jethro."

"I know," he smirked.

"Put Cynthia on, please. I need to talk with someone mature who understands my job."

"Fine," he sighed. "You'll help those barbershop quartets someday, though. Mark my words."

He could feel her rolling her eyes. He gave up the phone, handing it to Cynthia.

"Yes, Director," she answered, listening for a minute. "Of course not, Director," she said next, glaring at him and listening again.

They were ruining his fun.

He was surprised when Cynthia held the phone out to him again. He hesitated before taking it, plotting what he could do next to have some fun.

"Yes…?" he answered in an obnoxious voice again.

"Is there any serious business I should know about?"

"Well, the Buy America toilet paper doesn't fit the metric fixtures, and…"

"Jethro," she interrupted, clearly amused but pressed for time, "promise me you'll keep the building standing for just a few more days?"

"Cynthia will keep me in line," he answered, smirking at the woman who was glaring at him again.

"I should probably get her even more than an Hermes scarf if I really want her to stay after putting up with you. I need to go, I'll see you Sunday. Love you."

"Love you too," he said, feeling a bit awkward for some reason with Cynthia standing there.

"Don't get up to too much trouble." With that, the line clicked, and he couldn't help but feel a bit empty again. Stuck in her office, without her there. Bored out of his mind, and not wanting to go through these reports. He'd much rather be chatting with her.

The phone rang again and he picked it up before Cynthia could even try.

"I knew the toilet paper issue would get to you," he answered.

There was silence for a couple beats. "Uh…I feel like I missed something, boss."

He couldn't help but be disappointed by DiNozzo's voice. That was, until DiNozzo informed him why he was calling. A case? A dead body in the taxi at the main gate? He couldn't help but smile, seeing a tunnel of escape, a solid distraction he could have from this mundane paper pushing.

"I'll be right there," he said, slamming the phone down and grabbing his coffee, making his way to the door.

"The case files," Cynthia reminded him, clearly frustrated.

"Leave 'em on my desk."

"They are on your desk!"

He smirked as he headed out the door.


He wiped sweat off his forehead, catching his breath as he stepped back and made sure he'd gotten everything back in place. He'd spent his free time over the week maneuvering all the furniture in the nursery so he could tear out the carpet and put in the new matching one that Jenny had wanted. He survived the week as acting director, survived Cynthia harassing him to do meaningless things, enjoyed a case at the end to distract himself, and now he'd finished the carpet project. Just in time since Jenny was due back any minute.

He glanced around the room again, making sure it looked good and that he'd completed the project, and then began to clean up his tools and the leftover mess. He'd barely gotten back out of the basement from putting his tools away when he heard the key in the door. He jogged across the kitchen and living room, just getting there when the door opened and Jenny faced him.

"Hey," he greeted, beaming at her.

"Hey," she greeted back, looking exhausted. Her detail came up with her luggage behind her. He ushered her in to make room for them so they could come in and place it down.

"Agent Johnson, Agent Park," he greeted, shaking each of their hands. "Thanks for bringing her back in one piece."

"Our pleasure, Agent Gibbs," Johnson responded.

Gibbs grabbed the bags and headed up the stairs with them as Jenny said goodbye and dismissed the detail. The door was shutting as he came back down, and he smiled as Jenny turned to him. He made it down the last step and pulled her into him, hugging her firmly as he buried his nose in her neck.

"Missed you," he grunted.

"I missed you too," she sighed. "Paris isn't the same without you. Thank you for keeping the agency going without me."

He chuckled, pulling apart and resting his palm on her face, glad to see she was okay and here again. "Agency would've been fine without me," he shrugged. "It'll miss you when you leave."

"Don't remind me." She hugged him again. "I'll miss these free vacations. I'll miss traveling."

He could tell just how tired she was from the travel and the time change, especially with the way she was practically sagging against him. He held her close, lending her his support.

"Come on, let's get you to bed," he said, moving to her side and wrapping an arm around her waist to help her up the stairs.

"Wow, I'm not even home a full two minutes and you're already trying to get in my pants."

He shook his head at her usual antics, looking back at her mischievous smile. "You eat any dinner?"

"If you call what the plane had food."

He chuckled, remembering her distaste when it came to airplane food and snacks. She'd been quite the pain when he and her first traveled to Europe together. He distinctly remembered her tossing more of the snacks at him to annoy him than actually eating them herself.

"I'll bring you dinner in bed," he said, helping her up the stairs.

"Quite the innuendo."

"If ya really want me to have sex with you, just say so, Jen," he chuckled.

"No, I'm too tired," she said dramatically, smiling up at him.

"That's what I thought."

"Seems like you were tired when I walked in too. You were all sweaty and out of breath. If I hadn't known better, I would have wondered just what you and that boat were up to in my absence."

"It was me and the floor," he said, steering her towards the nursery to show her.

"Kinky," she mused. "Very desperate teenager of you."

He opened the door to the nursery and flipped on the light. "Happy Mother's Day," he said as she took it in. He grabbed the rose he had on the dresser, handing it to her.

"Oh," she said, going quiet, looking from the floor to the rose.

"That a good 'oh' or a bad one?"

"A good surprised one," she said. "I didn't expect you to do this while I was gone." She moved forward but then stopped. "Am I allowed to go on it?"

He gave her a look, confused as to why she would think she couldn't. "Course you can, Jen."

"I just wanted to make sure it was done, like I didn't have to wait a certain amount of time or something to walk on it."

Why would she…? Never mind. There was not point making her feel like an idiot. She was just making sure. He watched her walk in and look around the room, looking from the newly painted walls to the newly installed carpet. The soft blues and grays she had chosen seemed to make the room soothing, yet cheery at the same time. She stood in the middle of the room, holding the rose and smiling.

"The whole room looks so put together now. It's perfect."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Think we did a decent job." He walked to her, bending down to face her stomach, placing his palms on it. "Just gotta wait for this little guy now. Then it'll be complete. Huh, buddy?" He pressed a kiss to her stomach, feeling her place her hand on his head, combing her fingers through his hair.

He looked up, blushing immediately from the look on her face. She definitely found what he just did both sweet and amusing, and he couldn't help but feel embarrassed. He cleared his throat, getting up.

"It's late, don't wanna keep ya from bed. Both got work tomorrow," he grumbled, leading her out and flipping the light off.

She kicked off her shoes as soon as she got into their room, stripping immediately and getting into her pajamas.

"What do you want me to bring you to eat?"

"Don't bother. I'm too tired to eat, I'd be asleep by the time you get back."

He nodded and went about changing himself as she made her way to the bathroom. He heard the toilet flush and then she came back in, looking for her bag that she had packed her toothbrush in. They brushed their teeth together and came back into the room, and he watched as she maneuvered into the bed as best as she could, trying to move around and get comfortable. It seemed to be quite the process for her lately.

"Want the light out?" he asked.

"Sure."

He turned off the light and crawled into bed beside her, cozying up next to her.

"It's good to be home," she breathed out.

"Good to have you back home."

He felt her grab his hand, moving it onto her stomach and pressing down. He felt the movements inside her belly, smiling at the kicks. They were a lot stronger than they used to be.

"He always knows when I'm getting too comfortable," she sighed tiredly.

He kissed her shoulder, wishing there was more he could do to make her comfortable. There was something about pregnancy that made him feel weirdly left out. She had all these things she felt and things that bothered her, but he had no idea what any of it felt like. He couldn't understand how she felt, it was all very foreign to him. He couldn't do anything to help. It wasn't like he could give her breaks from being pregnant and take a turn.

"When they announced on one of the flights that it was Mother's Day, I didn't even realize it was," she said quietly. "It didn't even occur to me that it applied to me at all. I've spent so many years ignoring that day and more angry at it than anything else. But then people on the plane were glancing at me, and smiling, and it hit me that I'm going to be a mom soon. It's surreal."

"Mm-hmm." He remembered how Father's Day had always been a day he somewhat resented with his own dad. But then he became a father himself, and it was a completely different feeling. Shannon always helped Kelly do something for him, and it was always sweet and made him glad to be her dad. Then they died, and the day just became something that mocked him and rubbed in the pain.

"I'd been to Paris again a few years ago," she said out of the blue, changing the subject. "For work again. The whole time I just felt sad and bitter, thinking of the time we'd spent there. It felt haunted and empty. I didn't enjoy it. But this time…this time I could relish those memories. Knowing that I did have you again, that we have a whole life ahead. The memories were sweet, as opposed to sad. They served a purpose, rather than just being a regretful reminder. We had the whole day free yesterday, and all I wished was that you were there with me, reliving some of the memories from years ago."

"I'll take you back someday. We'll get a babysitter, and it can be just the two of us," he suggested.

"Mm," she sighed. "I'd really like that. No mission hanging over our heads. No detail tracking our every move and following us. No limits and rules. No meetings. We could just enjoy it for all it is worth. Maybe we should do a whole European re-visit when we're old and rich."

"Long as you're there, I'll go wherever you want."

"Anywhere you've always wanted to go?"

He thought about it for a minute. "Alaska. There's some good fishin' there. Not many people. Beautiful area. Montana too."

"I should've known you'd want to be out in secluded mountainous areas," she smiled.

"With horses to ride," he added.

"You really are quite the cowboy at heart, Mr. introverted John Wayne."

"Someone has to balance you out," he teased.

"You're not wrong," she laughed.

They were quiet for a while, and he'd wondered if she was almost asleep until she spoke up again.

"I'm really glad it was you," she said.

"Hm?"

"I'm really glad it was you, who I ended up with, I guess. Who I'm having a baby with. There is no one better I could have chosen to father my child in the end. It's a relief. All I could think while I was in Paris this week, was how even though we'd fallen off the tracks, and everything was messed up, now it's all set right again. We had no idea back then through all that craziness that years down the road we'd be together again, and having a baby on top of it all. I've spent so much time freaking out over how unplanned all this was and how it wasn't what I envisioned for my life…but sitting in that beautiful city again and thinking about those memories, I realized I'm really lucky, and I'm glad it's all happening with you."

He processed what she said, feeling the same as her. He was damn lucky to have her. He knew there was no way in hell he deserved as good as he had now.

"I'm glad it's happening with you too," he simply said. Not sure how to express just how deeply she meant to him, how appreciative he was that they had this chance to have a life together.