A/N: For Vivien, since she requested more one-shots in the "Shattered" realm. Hope you enjoy!

It took Leroy Jethro Gibbs less than a minute to realise that his wife was drunk. It wasn't the kind of unwind-from-a-stressful-day drunk, either. This was the scary, forget-your-name drunk that was sure to lead to an inevitable breakdown sooner rather than later. He frowned as she stumbled down the stairs, eyeing the bottle of bourbon in her hand with trepidation when she walked closer.

"Jen?"

She blinked, glassy eyes struggling to locate him in her inebriated state, and he reached out to catch her as she fell.

"Jen, what's wrong?"

Shaking her head, she frowned as he helped her sit on the stool in front of the table.

"Talk to me. What is it?"

"Do you know what day it is?"

Though he knew perfectly well what the date represented, he shook his head, feigning ignorance. He wanted her to admit it out loud, to face it rather than pretend that it wasn't happening, and she shook her head slowly.

"It's the 28th," she said quietly.

He nodded, sitting on the seat next to her.

"Okay."

"Don't you remember?" she whispered, "Because I sure as hell do."

"Tell me, Jen."

"It's...it's been one year since Harrison raped me."

Nodding again, he reached for her hand, and she shook him off, not wanting to be touched. She took another long drink, and he sighed softly.

"I remember."

"No matter how much I've tried, I can't get drunk enough to forget it! I just don't fucking understand it! Why the hell did this have to happen to me? I see it every goddamned night, every time I close my eyes!"

She slammed her hand down onto the table in anger, not even caring as the tools fell to the ground. Her eyes were bright with tears and liquor, and he reached out to pull the bottle of bourbon from her other hand. Jerking away, she glared at him, and he frowned.

"Why, Jethro? What the fuck did I do to deserve this? It isn't fair!"

He nodded, his eyes searching hers seriously.

"No, it isn't. But, he's dead now. He can't touch you again."

She laughed bitterly, and when she stared at him, her eyes were hard.

"It doesn't matter. Don't you get that? It doesn't fucking matter! The damage has already been done! He took something from me that I can never get back!"

There was a slightly accusing tone to her voice and she picked up the small saw on the table in front of her, pointing it at him sharply.

"Nothing can ever make this right. No matter what you say, it changed me. It breaks me every goddamned time I think about it, and it hits me when I least expect it!"

She turned the saw on herself, using it to gesture broadly, and he reached for her hand slowly. He pulled the instrument from her grasp, not wanting her to cut herself, and set it far enough away that she would have to stand up to reach it. In her current state, he seriously doubted she would try.

"What do you need, Jen?" he asked quietly.

Shaking her head, she wiped her hand under her eyes furiously, and sighed.

"I..." she paused, a soft sob escaping her, "Oh, god, Jethro..."

She took another drink and he waited, knowing that she wasn't through.

"I need help," she whispered finally.

He nodded, and touched her face gently, brushing her hair behind her ear. She stood up, walking over the the small skeleton of his new boat, running her hand over the wood slowly.

"I'm so scared all the time, even now. It's been a year, and I can't stand it. I keep hoping that maybe I'll get drunk enough tonight that it'll all be over and I won't wake up tomorrow. I won't have to deal with it and feel like such a fucking failure. I can't...god, I can't stand it!"

She was silent for a moment, and he simply watched her, unsure of how to help her.

"I feel so alone, Jethro."

Her words were so quiet that he almost missed it. He stood up, making his way slowly to her, and when he was close enough, he pulled her into his arms.

"You're not alone, Jen," he murmured into her hair.

She buried her face in his chest, and he kissed the top of her hair gently. As much as he hated to see her this distraught, he knew that it was best. She needed to properly deal with the anniversary of her attack, and he was thankful that she had chosen to come to him rather than lock herself in their bedroom and face it alone.

"I promise you, you're never alone."

Raising her head slowly, she stared up at him, her eyes wide.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," she agreed.

Her voice was hoarse, but he was amazed at her speech in general. The only outward sign of her drunkenness was the stumbling and glazed appearance of her eyes. There was none of the slurring that he'd expected, and her voice was only marred by her tears.

"It's going to—"

"Don't. Don't you fucking dare tell me that it's going to be okay! I'm falling apart right in front of you, and I don't need your false hope."

He shook his head, running his fingers through her tangled hair.

"It's not false hope, Jen. It may not seem like it now, but it will be okay. It's going to take time, but you've already come so far. Don't give up now."

Jenny shook her head, pulling away from him, walked over to the counter, reaching for the bourbon again.

"Why can't I forget it?" she moaned softly.

Gibbs walked over to her, wrapping his arm around her waist gently. He pressed his lips to the base of her throat, wishing that there was more he could do to help her. In truth, he really had no idea how to deal with the emotions she was experiencing, and it made him sad.

"We're not supposed to forget," he replied quietly, "We learn and grow from our experiences, and we're made stronger for them. You're the strongest, bravest person I know, and I love you so much."

She took a step away from him, stumbling in her intoxication, and he caught her arm before she could hit the ground.

"Jethro?"

"Hm?"

"I am extremely drunk."

He nodded, holding her arm tightly to keep her upright.

"Yeah, Jen, I can see that," he answered dryly.

Jenny pulled out of his grasp, and her heel slipped on the concrete. She fell to the ground with a loud curse, and he knelt down, one hand on his knee, the other held out to help her up.

"Come on," he said gently, "Upstairs."

She shook her head, but took his hand nonetheless. He pulled her to her feet, watching her as she swayed slightly. Blinking hard, she swallowed thickly, and he frowned.

"Jen?"

"There's a very high possibility that I might vomit," she said calmly.

Nodding, he led her to the stairs, helping her up carefully. She staggered as they neared the living room, and he swept her into his arms, carrying her slowly to the bedroom. He set her down gently, and as he was searching for a trash bin in case she needed it, she spoke softly.

"I'm going to take a bath."

She walked to the bathroom at an excruciatingly slow pace, and he followed her, standing in the doorway.

"Be careful."

"Jethro, I—"

"I mean it. I don't need you drowning because you're wasted."

Nodding, she turned the water on, placing her hand under the stream of water to test the temperature. As the tub filled, she walked closer to him, running her hands up his chest, and smiled at him sadly.

"I'll be fine, Jethro. I'll see you in a little bit, okay?"

Gibbs kissed her softly, and stepped back into the bedroom.

"Don't lock the door," he warned.

She smiled.

"I won't."

He closed the door softly, and Jenny slipped off her heels. She stepped into the tub, not even bothering to remove her clothes, and sighed as the heat washed over her. Her tears fell freely, and she didn't even try to pretend that she'd considered hesitating as she reached for her razor blade.

Turning at the sound of her soft footsteps on the stairs two hours later, Gibbs smiled warmly at her as she walked down the stairs. She was dressed in one of his long sleeved sweatshirts and a pair of sweatpants, her hair still damp, and she looked slightly more relaxed than she had previously. There was still a glassiness to her eyes that he didn't like, and her hands shook as she reached for the nearly-empty bottle of bourbon.

"You've had enough," Gibbs admonished her gently.

"Jethro, I—"

"No. I'm not taking the chance."

Her eyes met his, and finally she nodded. He took her arm in his, pulling her close, and his eyes narrowed as she flinched.

"You okay?"

Not trusting her eyes to not give her away, Jenny simply nodded, and he frowned.

"Jenny."

She pulled free from his hand, wincing again, and he tilted her head up, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"Jen, what did you do?"

Wordlessly, she rolled up her sleeve, and he glanced down, taking in the cuts marring her otherwise flawless skin. Upon closer examination, he was able to determine that there was no immediate threat to her well-being, and he looked at her sadly.

"Why?"

"I...I couldn't handle it. I'm so fucking weak. I'm sorry."

He wrapped her in his arms, and kissed her cheek.

"No, Jen. I'm sorry. I knew how upset you were, and I left you to deal with it alone. You deserved more than that."

She rested her head tiredly on his chest, and when she glanced up at him, he was taken aback by the look of pure exhaustion in her eyes.

"Can we go to bed?"

He nodded, hooking his arm under her legs and lifting her easily. She closed her eyes, moaning quietly as the movement made her nausea stronger, and when they reached the first floor, she looked up.

"Put me down."

He frowned, but did as she asked. She bolted to the bathroom, and the violent retching confirmed just how much she had been drinking. He followed her, watching from the doorway and when she finally stopped, he handed her a small cup filled with mouthwash. Rinsing her mouth thoroughly, she sighed as she stood up, and he reached for her hand.

"Can you walk?"

Jenny nodded, and he allowed her to precede him up the stairs, positioning his body so that he could catch her if she fell. She sat down on the bed, her head in her hands, and he sat next to her, his hand on her knee.

"I'm extremely dizzy," she muttered.

He nodded.

"I would say so. You drank nearly an entire bottle of straight bourbon. You're lucky that you're even conscious."

"I don't want to be," she whispered, "I never want to wake up."

Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips, kissing it softly, and frowned.

"You're just upset. And that's understandable. But please, Jen...I want you to do something for me."

Her eyes were closed, and he tapped her knee gently, making sure she was paying attention.

"I want you to give me the chance to make it better. It won't happen overnight, or even in a year, but..let me try. I love you more than anything in the world, and it would kill me to lose you."

Jenny raised her head slowly, looking at him through glassy eyes. This was the one person she trusted more than even herself, the one person who knew her best, he was her husband, and she couldn't stand the thought of hurting him.

"It will get easier. Trust me, Jen."

Finally, she nodded, looking at him seriously.

"I do trust you. More than I trust myself. Especially right now."

He kissed her, and her fingers gripped his shirt tightly, pulling him as close to her as she could. As he deepened the kiss, she moaned quietly, her hands reaching for the hem of his shirt. He broke away, shaking his head and looked at her carefully, willing her to understand.

"Not tonight, Jen. You're way too upset, and it wouldn't be a good idea."

She nodded, and laid down, curling onto her side. He reached for her, pulling her into his arms, and kissed her throat lightly.

"I love you."

"I love you, too. Jethro?"

"Hm?"

She turned in his arms, tucking her head under his chin.

"Don't let go."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Get some sleep, Jen."

He knew her nightmares would be severe, knew that she would likely wake screaming several times throughout the night, and he held her tighter as he felt her begin to relax. He didn't have the slightest idea of how he was going to ease her fear and pain, but he was going to try. Nothing mattered more to him than making sure that she felt safe.

Jenny's screams woke him a few hours later, and Gibbs frowned as his hand touched her side of the bed. It was empty, and when he finally found her, she was sitting in the corner, her head buried in her knees. He carefully approached her, reaching out to touch her gently and she smacked his hand away, shaking her head.

"Don't touch me!"

"Jen, it's okay. You're safe. Look at me."

Slowly, Jenny's wide green eyes met his and he smiled at her reassuringly.

"Jethro?"

"I'm right here, Jen. I've got you."

She threw herself into his arms, her hands locking around his neck, and he combed his fingers through her hair gently. Words rarely failed Jenny, and seeing her so vulnerable made his chest tighten in a way he couldn't quite explain. He stood slowly, bringing her with him, and he led her back to the bed, never once letting go of her.

"I think I'm still drunk," she said, her voice hoarse, but slightly amused.

"I wouldn't doubt it."

"I drank a lot."

He nodded, kissing her cheek.

"You owe me a new bottle of bourbon," he said seriously.

"Consider it done."

She laid down slowly, not wanting to risk getting sick again, and he sat back against the headboard, pulling her into his lap. They stayed that way in silence for a few minutes, and he was slightly surprised when her voice broke the quiet.

"Jethro?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to cry again," she murmured.

"Go ahead, Jen. I'm not judging you."

True to her word, Jenny's body began to shake as she sobbed, her tears soaking through the fabric of his sweatpants. He stroked her hair soothingly, and after nearly ten minutes, he realised that she had cried herself to sleep. Knowing he would never be able to sleep now, he stayed where he was, his fingers gently combing through her tangled red hair. He sighed as he leaned down to kiss her tear-stained cheek, and as he watched her sleep, he prayed that he would find a way to help her. Though he didn't receive an answer, he hoped that somewhere, someone had heard his prayer.

A/N: Let me know if you guys have any ideas for one-shots set within this universe, and I'll give them my best shot!