A/N: I know I said I wouldn't post the next chapter until Saturday, but I had an extra day off from work. Hope you enjoy. In which we see Jenny dealing with the withdrawl from giving up alcohol, and Gibbs tries his best to help.
The moment Jenny opened her eyes, she moaned at the bright light streaming through the front window. She had absolutely no idea where she was, nor how she had come to be there, and at the moment, her head was pounding too much for her to really care. She could hear movement in the room next to her, quiet she was sure, but to her mind, it was unbearably loud. As she threw her arm over her eyes to attempt sleeping, soft footsteps approached and the couch dipped as someone sat next to her.
"Hey."
She moved her arm, warily opening her eyes again, and when she saw the familiar face, she offered him a weak smile.
"Hi."
"How do you feel?"
She moaned, rolling her eyes, and he laughed quietly.
"Coffee's in the kitchen."
She nodded, but made no attempt to move.
"What do you remember?"
Searching the foggy corners of her mind, Jenny frowned as she tried to piece together the events of the day.
"Glass. Broken glass."
He nodded, waiting.
"I...I remember talking to you. Throwing up in my bathroom. Did—did you carry me to your truck, or did I imagine it?"
"No, it happened. You need to start eating more, by the way. You're way too light."
She smiled sadly.
"I'll get right on that."
"Do you remember what you told me? What you asked me to do?"
She ran her hand through her hair, thinking hard. After several minutes, she nodded and closed her eyes.
"I asked you to help me."
"Mhmm. With what?"
He needed her to say it, needed her to acknowledge it when she was sober, otherwise this was never going to work. She sighed, unable to meet his eyes, and her voice was a mere whisper as she answered.
"I have a drinking problem."
He nodded, reaching for her hand, and when she raised her eyes to his, he wasn't surprised to see the tears in them.
"How did this happen, Jethro? How did it get so out of control?"
He moved closer to her, gently pulling her body into his lap, and he ran his fingers through her hair.
"Slowly. And then all at once."
She didn't answer, instead turning her body so that she was facing his chest and sighed. He could feel her shaking as he held her, and she slowly sat up, looking at him with hollow eyes.
"Jethro?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm so sorry. This shouldn't have happened."
"Maybe not, but it did. And I'm going to do everything I can to help you."
"I'm scared," she whispered.
He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers.
"I know. It's okay to be scared. I'd be worried if you weren't."
Standing, he held out his hand and when she took it, he carefully pulled her to her feet. She was still unsteady as she stood, and he knew that she needed to replenish the fluids in her body before she became severely dehydrated. He led her slowly into the kitchen, pouring her a glass of water and she frowned.
"Thought you said there was coffee."
He smirked.
"I did. Water first, then coffee."
She nodded, taking a long drink from the glass. He watched her carefully, looking for any sign that she was going to be sick, and as she took another drink, he gave her a reassuring smile. When he passed her the cup of coffee he'd been drinking, she smiled as she brought it to her lips.
"I knew there was a reason I loved you."
"Because I make great coffee?"
She nodded, sipping it slowly.
"Among other things."
He laughed and she sighed as the rich liquid began to alleviate her blinding headache. Maybe she could get through this after all.
Groaning in frustration as she paced back and forth, Jenny ran a shaking hand through her hair. She'd finally gotten all traces of alcohol out of her system, and now the aftershocks were driving her mad. Gibbs watched her as she moved frantically through his basement and he frowned as she passed him again.
"Jen, maybe you should sit down."
She shook her head.
"I can't. This is killing me."
Her eyes roamed the basement, searching the places she knew he usually kept his bourbon. He followed her gaze and shook his head.
"Don't even think about it."
She turned on her heel, still pacing, and fixed him with a glare that he was proud of, even in spite of the situation. He could see how badly she was shaking even from where he stood, and her hair was damp with sweat as she continued to walk the perimeter of the room. Finally, she sank down on the small couch, cradling her head in her hands, and she moaned.
"Can I at least have coffee?"
"Sure. But you have to come with me to get it."
She frowned.
"Are you serious? You don't trust me?"
He shook his head.
"Not right now, I don't. Come on."
She sighed, disappointed that her plan hadn't worked. In hindsight, she supposed it had been a pretty weak attempt.
"Nevermind."
"Thought so."
She curled up on the couch, and he made his way closer, covering her with a blanket. She smiled in appreciation, and he leaned down to kiss the top of her head. As she tossed and turned on the small piece of furniture, Gibbs picked up his paint brush, touching up the letters of his daughter's name on the back of his boat. He let his eyes flicker to the redhead on his couch every so often, and when she had fallen asleep thirty minutes later, he breathed a sigh of relief. This was going to be harder than he thought.
The soft moan from the corner of the room caught his attention as he worked on his boat, and he glanced over, concerned. Jenny was still on the couch, but she appeared to have finally woken up, and he set his tools down as he moved to sit next to her. He lifted her head carefully, pulling her into his lap, and she moaned again. He ran his hand over her hair, noticing just how much she was sweating, and as her shaking hand reached for his, he smiled sadly.
"How l-long does this l-last?" she asked weakly.
"Dunno. Never been through it before. Hopefully not long."
"Feels like s-shit."
He laughed.
"I imagine so."
"P-please, Jethro. One drink wouldn't kill me. Just enough t-to make this stop."
He shook his head, looking down at her seriously.
"No, Jen. That would defeat the purpose. You can do this."
"Jethro.."
"Not happening, Shepard. You asked for my help, you got it."
She moaned again, her entire body shaking, and he tightened his hold on her. Her eyes were glassy, and he frowned as she gripped his hand tighter.
"I c-can't do this," she whispered.
He brought her hand to his lips, kissing it gently.
"Yes, you can. You're so much stronger than this."
Her head shook, damp hair sticking to her skin. She looked up at him desperately and the pain in her voice nearly broke him.
"No, I'm n-not. I can't handle this. I need a drink."
She stood up quicker than he had anticipated, and before he could stop her, she was searching frantically through the basement. He had planned for this, knew there was nothing for her to find, but still it was unsettling.
"Jen."
She ignored him, her shaking fingers hardly able to hold anything as she moved everything on his work table, and he tried again.
"Jenny, stop. There's nothing there."
Moving to the other side of the room, she began looking in every corner, every crevice, and when she found nothing, she fought the urge to cry in frustration. Gibbs stood, slowly approaching her, and when he grabbed her wrist, she pulled away, screaming.
"Don't touch me."
"Jen, I got rid of everything. There's nothing here."
She tried to push past him, but his hands gripped her shoulders tightly.
"Let go."
He shook his head, and before he knew what had happened, her hand had lashed out, connecting painfully with his face. He still didn't release her, and when she swung again, his hand caught her wrist just before it hit.
"Jethro, let go of me."
She continued to struggle, but he knew it wouldn't last long. Her tears were falling rapidly now, and when she finally collapsed in his arms, he held her close, kissing her hair gently.
"Shh...it's okay, Jen."
Sobbing harder now, she felt her knees buckle under her, and he tightened his hold, keeping her upright. She clung to his shirt like a lifeline, and he continued to kiss her hair, trying to pretend that his heart wasn't being ripped apart as he held her.
"I got you, Jen. I got you."
"I'm so fucking sorry."
"Shh...I know."
Hooking his arm under her legs, he cradled her against his chest and walked the short distance back to the couch. His shirt was damp with tears and sweat, but he couldn't have cared in the slightest. As Jenny continued to cry in his arms, he rocked her gently, hoping that she would calm down soon.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"No, Jen. I'm sorry. I should have seen this sooner. I should have never let it get this bad."
She looked up at him, eyes still glassy and unfocused, and frowned.
"It's not your fault. It's mine. I did this. Not you."
He shook his head.
"Maybe, but I should have seen how much you were struggling."
Brushing his fingers under her eyes, he kissed her gently, his free hand tangling in her hair.
"I love you so much. And we're gonna get through this together."
She nodded, laying her head on his chest, and as her breathing finally began to stabilize, he found himself saying a prayer to a God he wasn't even sure he believed in. If it would help her through this, he would do anything to make it happen.
His bright blue eyes watched her like a hawk all through the afternoon as she slept on the couch, and as the sun began to set, she finally sat up, blinking in confusion. He quickly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring, and he busied himself with the tools he had placed under his boat for cover. He smiled when he felt her come up behind him and as she wrapped her arms around his waist, he turned to face her.
"Hey."
"Hey, yourself," he said quietly, "How do you feel?"
She frowned, considering his question.
"Better, I think. Still kind of shaky."
He nodded, looking at her carefully. Her skin was so pale that it was nearly translucent, and her body still trembled violently, but her eyes were clearer than he'd seen in days. He trailed his finger over her cheek gently and as his lips brushed against hers, he could feel her smile.
"Do you think you could eat something?"
She shook her head slowly.
"I'm not hungry."
He frowned.
"You haven't eaten since Tori's birthday party."
She shrugged, looking down at the floor.
"I'm really not hungry, Jethro."
"Please? Even something small. For me?"
She sighed, sensing that he wasn't going to back down, and finally nodded.
"Fine. I'll try."
He kissed her cheek and she walked away, going to take her place on the couch again. He knew, even as he called out for their dinner, that she wasn't going to touch it, but still...he had to try.
Jenny sighed as she sat behind her desk, trying to find something to distract herself from the thoughts running through her mind. It had been three days since she'd touched any alcohol, and her body was screaming for it. She knew Gibbs had locked her bourbon in the bottom drawer of her desk and taken her key, and though she had spent the better part of her morning cursing him for it, she knew he was only trying to help her. Still, she couldn't deny that a part of her hated him for it.
Just knowing that it was so close to her was enough to drive her insane, and she laid her head down on her desk with a low moan. She didn't have a key, that much was certain, but perhaps she could find another way. She ran her hand through her hair, frowning when she remembered that she hadn't put any pins in it that morning and sighed. Picking the lock was out, then.
Suddenly, an idea came to her and she smiled, hitting the button on her intercom.
"Cynthia?"
"Yes, Director?"
"Could you come in my office for a moment, please?"
"Yes, ma'am."
The door opened seconds later, and Jenny smiled at the younger woman.
"I don't have a key for the bottom drawer of my desk. I must have lost it somewhere. Do you have a spare, by any chance?"
Cynthia frowned, thinking.
"I'm not sure. Let me check."
She disappeared through the door and Jenny allowed herself a smile. The younger woman returned to her office, shaking her head slowly.
"I couldn't find one. Is there any way I can help?"
Jenny frowned.
"Can you send Officer David up to my office, please?"
"Yes, ma'am."
When the Israeli walked into her office a minute later, Jenny gave her a warm smile. If she didn't have means to pick the lock, no one did.
"You wanted to see me, Director?"
Jenny nodded.
"Yes. I've misplaced the key for my desk drawer and I need your lock picking skills."
Ziva frowned. Jenny had never needed help picking a lock before, and she wondered what had changed.
"Is something wrong?"
"Just wondering why my assistance is needed. If I recall correctly, you're quite skilled at picking locks yourself, Director."
The redhead nodded again, sighing slowly.
"It isn't that I can't do it. I lack the proper tools."
Ziva nodded, pulling out a small knife and handing it to her. Jenny knelt down, her eyes narrowed in concentration, and after a few moments of careful maneuvering, she smiled as the drawer opened. She handed the knife back to Ziva, nodding her head in thanks.
"Is that all, Director?"
"Yes. Thank you, Ziva."
Ziva gave her a curious look as she was dismissed and when Jenny pulled out the bottle of bourbon she smiled. She felt slightly guilty as she poured the drink, but as soon as she felt the familiar warmth spreading throughout her body, she pushed it to the back of her mind.
"Ziva, where the hell have you been?"
"I'm sorry. The Director requested my presence."
Gibbs frowned.
"Why?"
"She needed help opening something."
Tony snickered.
"And she called you instead of Gibbs? Wow, that's kind of a blow to your ego, boss."
Approaching the younger woman slowly, Gibbs looked at her with a sense of dread.
"What exactly did she ask you to open?" he asked dangerously.
"Her desk drawer," Ziva answered, looking confused, "She misplaced the key and asked if I could help her open it."
Gibbs stared at her for a moment before walking as quickly as he could to the stairs. Damn her.
Ignoring Cynthia's protests, Gibbs threw Jenny's office door open, not caring as it hit the wall. The redhead frowned, pulling her glasses off, and he slammed it behind him as he walked closer.
"Tell me you didn't."
"Didn't what?"
"Damn it, Jenny, this isn't a game."
She met his eyes coldly, wondering what on earth he was referring to, and he slammed his hand on the desk.
"Answer me."
"You haven't asked me a question," she replied smoothly.
He walked around the desk, wrenching open the drawer and she frowned.
"Looking for something?"
He glared at her, his eyes harder than she'd seen in awhile. He pulled her up from the chair, kissing her hard, and his tongue found hers roughly. When he moved away, she simply stared at him, trying to figure out if he'd completely lost his mind, and when he spoke, his voice was colder than ice.
"I can't believe you."
"What?"
"Everything we worked for, all the shit we went through over the past three days, and you just threw it all away."
She frowned.
"Jethro, what—"
"You drank the damn bourbon, Jen! I locked it up to help you, and you went behind my back and drank it anyway. I could taste it."
He met her eyes, daring her to look away, daring her to lie to him, and when she didn't, he slammed his hand on the desk again.
"God damn it, Jenny! How could you do this? You're not that weak. I know you! You're stronger than a fucking drink! You know that."
She said nothing, too ashamed to speak, and he walked around her desk quickly, as if he couldn't stand to be near her. He turned just before he reached the door, looking at her with a mixture of anger and sadness that made her feel worthless.
"At least, I thought you were. Maybe I was wrong."
He walked out without another word, and it wasn't until he had been gone for a full ten minutes that she finally allowed herself to cry. Once she had started, she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to stop, and when she left her office at the end of the day, she wasn't surprised to find that he had already gone.
Knowing that Gibbs likely wanted to be as far away from her as possible, Jenny opted not to stay at his house that night. Instead, she locked herself in her study with a fresh bottle of bourbon and as she poured the amber liquid into the tumbler, she tried to stop crying to no avail. Figuring she had already lost him, she saw no reason to try now, and as she stared into the glass, she cursed herself for being so stupid.
Pulling out her phone, she decided she would call Heather, and when her sister's voice came on the line, she tried to regulate her breathing.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Heather."
"Jenny! Hi! Are you feeling better than you were at the party?"
"Yeah, I'm...I'm fine. Just wanted to hear your voice."
"What's wrong?"
Jenny forced a laugh, hoping it was at least somewhat believable and sighed.
"Nothing's wrong. Can't I just call to talk?"
Heather's tone made it evident she didn't believe her in the slightest.
"I can hear it in your voice, Jenny. What happened? Is it Jethro?"
"Yeah," Jenny said with a sob, "We, um...we had a really bad fight."
"From what you've told me, you two fight all the time."
"This one was different. I really screwed up, Heather."
"Why don't you apologise?"
Jenny laughed.
"Jethro thinks apologising is a sign of weakness."
"That's dumb."
Heather paused, and Jenny looked at her drink again. She hadn't touched it yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time.
"Look, give him some time, and yourself some time, and I'm sure things will work out. He loves you, and I know you love him."
Jenny sniffed, trying to keep herself from crying again.
"Maybe you're right."
"I am. Always. I have to go get Tori ready for bed, but if you need me, don't hesitate to call, okay? Love you."
"Thanks. Love you, too."
Feeling less than hopeful, Jenny sighed, dialing another number. If she couldn't talk to Gibbs himself, she would just have to talk to the one person who knew him better than she did.
"Hello?"
"Ducky, it's Jenny. Can I talk to you?"
"I'm assuming this is because of your fight with Jethro?"
Shit. Gibbs must have already told him.
"Yeah. What do I do? I really messed this up."
"Yes, you did, Jennifer. That's not to say that Jethro is entirely blameless, but you must understand that he's very concerned about you. You both made mistakes today, and you have to make a choice. What is more important to you? Alcohol, or Jethro?"
"You know the answer to that, Ducky."
"Yes, I suppose I do, but does he?"
She frowned, considering his words carefully, and after saying goodbye, she let her phone fall to the floor. Picking up her glass, she stared at the liquor, hating herself more than she ever had before and when she threw it across the room, she smiled as it shattered. The bottle itself followed, and when she picked up the pieces of glass, she swore as it sliced into her hand.
She made her way into her kitchen, searching for a towel and as she wrapped her hand, she frowned at the knock on her front door. Wondering who it could possibly be, after all Gibbs wasn't speaking to her, she opened it slowly, her eyes widening at the man on the other side.
"Jethro. What are you doing here?"
He shrugged.
"You didn't come home after work. Figured this would be where I'd find you."
She stepped back, allowing him in, and he closed the door gently.
"I didn't think you wanted to be around me," she said quietly.
He followed her as she made her way into the living room, sitting next to her on the couch. He didn't touch her, but his presence was a step in the right direction.
"I was angry, Jen. I know this isn't—what happened to your hand?"
She glanced down at it and shrugged noncommittally.
"I broke a bottle and a glass."
"How much did you drink?"
She shook her head, looking at him seriously.
"I didn't. I was going to, but it reminded me of how badly I fucked this up, and I couldn't."
He beckoned her closer, and when his lips met hers, she knew exactly what he was doing. It didn't matter. The feeling of his mouth on hers, his tongue dancing over her own, it was better than any liquor she'd ever tasted, and she was disappointed when it ended all too soon.
"Okay, I believe you."
Looking down, he reached for her hand, and when he unwrapped the towel, he frowned at the blood. It wasn't deep, but it needed a proper bandage regardless. He shook his head and pulled her up, leading her into the bathroom. As he found the first-aid kit she kept under the sink, she sighed as he ran the water, gently cleaning the cut.
"It's not that bad," she protested.
He ignored her, wrapping it carefully, and when he had finished, he kissed her palm lightly.
"You gotta stop breaking glass, Jen. One of these days, you're gonna lose a finger."
She gave him a weak smile, and clicked off the light, walking back into the living room. He joined her on the couch, still not touching her, and she waited, knowing he wanted to speak.
"I know this isn't easy, and I know you're going to have setbacks. It won't get better overnight, or even in three days. I shouldn't have yelled at you, and I shouldn't have said something that I didn't mean."
"What are you talking about?"
"Earlier, in your office, when I said I was wrong...I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it. I know you're strong enough to get through this. It won't be easy, and you're going to need help, but you can do this, Jen. Don't ever doubt that."
"I shouldn't have done what I did today, Jethro. I jeopardized everything that we've worked for, and I'm sorry."
He nodded, and when he held out his arms, she moved closer, burying her head in his chest. He held her close, breathing in her perfume and when she glanced up at him, he smiled.
"Jethro?"
"Hm?"
"Can we go home?"
It touched him more than he would ever admit that she now referred to his house as her home, and he nodded, leaning down to kiss her. She stopped to grab her phone from her study, carefully picking her way around the broken glass, and as she locked her front door behind her, she finally felt as though maybe she had a fighting chance.
Watching Jenny as she slept had become one of Gibbs' favourite pastimes, though he would never tell her that, and it was one that he hadn't been able to partake in much recently. She'd become even more restless over the past few days and as she roamed the house, he frowned as he wondered how she expected to function at work the next day.
"Jenny?"
She didn't answer, pacing back and forth in his basement as he worked, and he sighed.
"Jen?"
"What?" she snapped.
"It's late. Don't you think maybe you should try to get some sleep?"
She rolled her eyes.
"You're still awake," she pointed out.
He nodded.
"Yeah, but I've also slept more than two hours in the past two days."
"Shut up."
He sighed, running his hand through his hair, and as she passed him yet again, she paused, tapping her nails against the shell of his boat. It went on for almost a full two minutes before he glared at her and sighed again.
"Jen, would you stop doing that?"
Smacking her hand on the wood, she walked away, her footsteps loud on the stairs and as she slammed the door, he groaned. He knew she was lashing out because of the withdrawls, but still... At this rate, neither of them would make it through the night alive.
Jenny tried in vain to read a book, but as her eyes scanned the page for the sixth time without comprehending the words, she sighed in frustration. Tossing it aside, she ran her hand through her hair, trying to think about anything that didn't involve alcohol. She was beyond jittery, so highly strung that she was surprised she hadn't snapped yet, and as she walked back down to the basement, she wondered how she was supposed to get through this madness.
"Jethro?"
He turned, eyeing her warily, as if he were afraid she was going to yell again, and raised his eyebrow.
"Yeah?"
"Come here."
He set his sander down, brushing off the sawdust as he walked, and as soon as he was near enough, she pulled him to her, crashing her lips against his almost painfully.
"Jen, what—"
"Shut up."
Her tongue found its way into his mouth, stopping his protests, and as she pulled his shirt over his head, he frowned, looking at her seriously.
"What are you doing?"
She shook her head, kissing him again, and he moaned as her hands moved down his body.
"Jethro?"
"Hm?"
"I want you to fuck me. Right here, right now."
He frowned, pulling away from her, and when she tried to kiss him again, he shook his head.
"What's going on, Jen? This isn't like you."
"Don't ask questions, Jethro."
Her lips found his throat, and when she touched him again, he knew there was no way he could refuse her now. He pulled the old NIS shirt from her body, silently rejoicing when he discovered that she wasn't wearing a bra underneath it, and when his lips closed around her breast, she moaned, tangling her hands in his hair. Her fingers undid the button on his jeans and she quickly pushed them down, not even caring that they were going to be covered in sawdust when he put them on later.
He pulled her underwear down easily, his fingers slipping inside her as he kissed her throat, and she whispered his name as he touched her. He lifted her into his arms, turning them so that she was balanced against the boat, and as he entered her, she cried out, her head falling back slowly.
"Jethro?"
"Jen?"
"I want this to hurt."
He kissed her, frowning slightly.
"Why?"
"Please, Jethro," she whispered as she kissed him, "For the love of God, shut up."
He moved quickly, his hips slamming into hers, and she cried out as she gripped his shoulders. One hand wound into his hair, and when he kissed her, all teeth and tongue, she moaned. He was still holding back, and as Jenny bit down on his lip, she jerked when she felt his fingers touch her.
"Harder, Jethro."
He kissed her throat, his teeth nipping along her flesh, and he moved faster at her request. He yanked her hair to one side, and when he bit down on her throat hard enough to draw blood, she moaned again, long and low. He frowned as the coppery taste registered in his mind, and he looked at her worriedly.
"Jen?"
"Don't stop. Do it again."
"I can't. Didn't mean to the first time."
She laughed breathlessly, kissing him hard. His rhythm had faltered now, and as she ground her hips into his, he frowned as he found it again. His lips moved over her throat again and he ran his tongue over the shell of her ear. He met her eyes seriously, searching for answers, and when she nodded, he kissed her.
"Do it, Jethro."
He bit down on her skin, nowhere near as hard as before, and though she moaned, he knew she was slightly disappointed. He could feel her walls tightening around him, and as she broke beneath him, her nails left red marks down his skin. His own orgasm caught him off-guard, and her name fell from his lips on a whisper of air.
Setting her down carefully, he examined her closely, sweeping her hair to one side. The blood had stopped, and when he reached out to touch it gently, he noticed the slightly flushed tint of her skin. She wouldn't meet his eyes, and he frowned as his fingers brushed over the mark.
"You okay?"
She nodded, and he touched her cheek.
"Jen...I couldn't. I didn't want to hurt you, and—"
"It's okay," she answered quietly, "I know why you didn't."
"Did it help?"
She frowned, feigning innocence.
"What do you mean?"
"You were using sex to distract yourself. That's why you wanted it to hurt. You wanted to be able to focus on the pain instead of wanting a drink."
Her eyes finally flickered to his, and she sighed.
"That obvious?"
"I know you, Jen. Probably better than anyone."
Reaching up to touch his cheek, she kissed him gently, and began pulling on her clothes again. When they had both dressed, he led her over to the couch, wrapping his arm around her tightly.
"You're right," she said suddenly, her voice soft, "You do know me better than anyone else. You're my best friend, Jethro. I don't care if you need me or not. I need you. I don't know what I would do without you."
He kissed her hair gently, and she smiled.
"I do need you, Jen. You're my best friend, too. Even if half the time we want to kill each other. And you don't have to worry about what you'd do without me. I'm not going anywhere."
She looked at him, willing the tears in her eyes to stay put, and she smiled as she moved closer.
"Leroy Jethro Gibbs..."
"Hm?"
"I love you."
He smirked.
"Jennifer Maxine Shepard..."
She frowned.
"Jethro, you know damn well my middle name is not Maxine."
He laughed, kissing her again.
"Yeah, I know."
"You were saying?"
"I love you too, Jen."
He stood up, holding out his hand and when he pulled her to her feet, he smiled as she wrapped her arm around his waist. She still hadn't eaten much over the past few days, and as he tossed her effortlessly over his shoulder, he frowned.
"I'm ordering Chinese. What do you want?"
She laughed as her hair fell into her face and sighed.
"You're choosing to ask me this now?"
"Yep. If you refuse to eat, I'm dropping you."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Don't tempt me, Shepard."
She pushed her hair back, and nodded.
"Beef lo mein."
He set her down, and she smacked his arm lightly.
"You know, you could have just asked like a normal adult."
He smirked.
"Nah. Nowhere near as effective."
He began walking up the stairs, and as she leaned against the wood of his boat, she found herself feeling lighter than she had in weeks. She just prayed that the feeling would last.
A/N: Withdrawls are a bitch. I almost felt bad for putting Jenny through that.