A/N: Happy Saturday! In which Jenny makes several mistakes, Gibbs makes a few of his own, and our favourite couple very narrowly avoid disaster. Hope you enjoy!

The last person Jenny expected to see when she walked into Heather's house was Daniel Way. She frowned as they walked past and when he noticed her, the lawyer gave her a smile.

"Hi, Jenny."

"Daniel. What are you doing here?"

"I'm a friend of David's. You?"

"Heather is my sister."

Daniel smiled, looking between them.

"Yeah, now that I look at you together, I can see the resemblance."

"How do you know Jenny, Daniel?" David asked, looking at his friend curiously.

"He was the lawyer on my rape case," Jenny answered quietly.

David frowned.

"Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Jenny smiled, waving his apology away.

"It's okay."

Heather handed her a beer, smiling as she gestured to the couch. They sat down, and Jenny stared at the drink in her hand warily. She knew that she should have refused it, should have explained her situation to her sister, but she tipped it back slowly. Going without alcohol had been torturous, two of the longest weeks she'd ever endured (or so it seemed), and she welcomed the opportunity to forget. As she swallowed, she knew Gibbs was going to kill her if he found out, and she shook her head. Maybe she could do this. Maybe she'd be able to stop after a few drinks. After all, she didn't know until she tried.

Two hours later, Heather watched her as she pulled out her phone, frowning in curiosity.

"Calling Jethro?"

Jenny shook her head.

"No. I have a driver."

"Oh, you've met Agent Gibbs, Heather?"

The younger woman nodded, smiling at Daniel.

"I would hope so. He's Jenny's fiance, I had to give my opinion."

Daniel laughed.

"True. So, Jenny, when's the wedding?"

Holding up her hand to tell him to wait as she finished speaking, she smiled. He nodded as she hung up the phone and spoke.

"We haven't set a date yet. I know he's getting anxious about it, though."

"Gibbs doesn't strike me as the anxious type," Daniel laughed.

"He's been married four times. He wants to get it over with."

Heather smiled, and Jenny finished her drink. By her count, she'd had six, and for a two-hour period, that didn't seem unreasonable to her. She was still slightly concerned that Gibbs would be upset with her if he found out that she'd been drinking, and so she had opted to call her driver instead. Hugging her sister as she stood, Jenny nodded her head at David and Daniel, each of them raising their hand at her.

"Good to see you again, Jenny," Daniel called as she left.

"Same to you, Daniel. For a lawyer, you're a good guy."

"You're the politician, not me."

She laughed.

"Not a real politician, remember?"

"Guilt by association, remember?"

David laughed, and as she slid into the back of her car, Jenny placed her head in her hand.

"Ma'am?"

She jumped, offering Agent Fredericks a smile.

"I'm fine, Fredericks."

He didn't question her, and as he drove carefully to Gibbs' house, she leaned her head against the window.

"Kenny?"

"Ma'am?"

"Could we make a quick detour? I need to pick something up before I head home."

"Yes, ma'am. Where to?"

As he drove to the nearest liquor store, Jenny had never been more thankful that he never asked her any kind of questions. It was safer, really.

Gibbs smiled when he head the telltale click of Jenny's heels on the stairs, and that smile was extended to her as she approached him.

"How was Heather's?"

She smiled, running her hand lightly over the boat as she walked.

"Fine. Daniel Way was there."

Gibbs frowned.

"The lawyer?"

"Yep. He's a friend of David's."

"Damn lawyers always sticking together," he muttered.

She laughed, stopping just in front of him, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. He leaned over to kiss her and when he frowned as he pulled away, she was confused.

"What's wrong?"

"You taste like mint."

"Excuse me?"

"Mint," he repeated, "You don't chew gum anymore, and it's too early for you to have brushed your teeth, so why?"

"Are you serious?"

He nodded. She ran her hand through her hair and sighed.

"Fine. Heather ordered Italian for lunch, and I didn't particularly think you would want to kiss me if I'd still tasted like garlic. Satisfied?"

It was partially the truth, so she was confident enough to meet his eyes steadily. When he nodded, she knew that her right eye hadn't given her away and she nearly smiled in relief.

"Could have brought some back," he joked.

"I don't share Italian, Jethro."

He smirked at her honesty and when she kissed him again, his hand tangled into her hair. She gasped as he swept his tongue over hers and he lifted her off her feet. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she leaned back slightly, trying to catch his eyes.

"Really, Jethro? The table in your basement?"

He shrugged.

"Never bothered you before."

"Yeah, but usually you clean off space first."

He frowned, examining the table. She had a point. Setting her down carefully, he swept his arm over the table, smirking at her as the tools clattered loudly to the floor.

"Better?"

She nodded, and he lifted her onto the surface. He couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was wrong, that she was hiding something from him, but when she pulled her shirt over her head, he found that (at least for the moment), it didn't really matter.

Turning on the water and letting it run, Jenny rummaged around in the pile of clothing she'd carried with her to the bathroom. Wrapped carefully among the layers of her shirt was a half-full bottle of bourbon, and she placed it on the edge of the tub. She'd made absolutely sure to lock the door before she'd undressed and when she stepped under the steady stream of hot water, she closed her eyes tightly.

She knew, even as she unscrewed the cap on the bottle, that what she was doing was wrong, that Gibbs would be beyond disappointed in her if he knew she'd started drinking again, but she couldn't stop. Shooting Sergeant Rice on that rooftop last week had really shaken her, though she couldn't have told anyone why, and she had been trying to put it behind her ever since. The liquid burned a path down her throat, and she shuddered as the taste lingered in her mouth. It had been long enough since she'd drank that it took less for her to begin feeling the effects and she smiled as she picked up her razor.

Though she was careful, the blade still nicked her skin as she shaved, and she swore, hissing in pain. Blood dripped slightly down her leg, and as she stared down at it, she frowned. It was a small cut, nothing to be concerned about, but the sight of the blood calmed her in a way that she hadn't experienced in years. The water stung as it hit the small cut and though it was painful, she welcomed it. Physical pain was something she knew how to handle. Emotional pain...that was another story entirely.

Shaking her head, Jenny rinsed the conditioner out of her hair and as she shut off the water, she smacked herself on the back of her head.

"Don't be an idiot, Shepard."

If she took that first step, Jenny knew there would be no turning back, and she wasn't sure, no matter how much better she would feel, if she was ready to go down that road again.

Watching Jenny sleep, Gibbs smiled as he leaned over to kiss her hair gently. He'd been tempted to join her in the shower, but when he'd realised she had locked the door, he'd taken that to mean that she wanted to relax. He grabbed a towel, and as he searched in the bathroom closet for his shaving kit, he frowned when his hand touched smooth glass. Behind the mountain of towels, buried under an old pair of swimming trunks, was a bottle. An empty bottle, he noticed.

He pulled it free, turning it over in his hands, and the anger that flared up was strong enough that he nearly threw the bottle across the room. Though he knew he should probably calm down, he tightened his grip on the neck and stormed back into the bedroom. He reached out, roughly shaking the sleeping redhead and when she blinked up at him, he glared at her with pure fury.

"What the hell, Jen?"

"What's wro—"

He held the bottle out for her to see and she turned her head away.

"Where did this come from? Did you really think that you could hide this from me? That I wouldn't figure it out?"

"Jethro, I—"

"This isn't a goddamned game, Jenny!"

"I didn't say it was. If you would just let me—"

He shook his head, cutting her off.

"Let you what? Explain? I don't think so. Not this time."

"Wait just a damn minute," she spat angrily, "What happened to all your talk about how you knew there would be setbacks, how you knew it wouldn't be easy? Where's that attitude? You didn't mean any of it. You expect me to be able to just stop. No questions, no excuses. It isn't going to happen that way, and you damn well know it!"

He shook his head again, glaring at her. She stood up, emerald locking on sapphire, and when she tried to touch him, he jerked away.

"Get out. Now. I can't even look at you right now."

She frowned, yet stayed where she was.

"You fucking bastard," she whispered, "You're so quick to tell me that you're going to be there to help me through this. So quick to tell me that you support me, yet when I fall short, when I'm not absolutely perfect, you push me away. You treat me like a goddamned criminal, like I'm nothing more than a stupid child."

He laughed bitterly, his eyes hard.

"I supported you. Who was it that came to your house when you had a panic attack because the press found out about your rape case? Who was it that put bullets in both of the Harrisons to keep you safe? Who saved your life when you tried to kill yourself a few months ago? Jen, who the hell was it who watched you go through withdrawls and held you through every damn minute of it? I did! I was there for all of it! I supported you through everything, and you're throwing it away."

Her eyes flashed dangerously, and when she spoke, her voice was colder than ice.

"Do you want a fucking medal? Don't even try to act like this was one-sided. I offer you my support every day, but you're too afraid to trust anyone, to open up and share any part of you that could be vulnerable! I can't help you if I don't know that there's a problem! It isn't my fault that you shut me out! You won't talk to me. About Shannon, about Kelly...about anything! I learned more about you from your father than I have from you!"

She was crying now, angry tears falling onto the floor, and she shook her head.

"Even now, after everything, after all this time...you don't trust me."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it? You drink your pain away just as much as I do! I know you, Jethro! I can see it in your eyes. It never leaves you. It haunts you, and you think that by pushing it to the side, by focusing on everyone else's problems, that you can forget it. But you can't, and you don't even trust me enough to talk about it. The person you supposedly want to marry."

He frowned at that, and looked at her seriously.

"Supposedly?" he repeated.

"Yes, Jethro, supposedly! You say you love me, which is a miracle in and of itself that I never thought would happen, you say that you want to marry me, but you don't communicate. We can read each other like a book about most things, have entire conversations with just our eyes, but when it comes down to really giving me your heart, you shut it down!"

She was twisting her hands together, a sure sign that she was nervous, and when he glared at her again, he couldn't keep the anger from his voice.

"You knew damn well when we first met that I had a past. Should I have told you about it from the start? Probably, but I'm human, Jenny. We all make mistakes, and for you to stand there and judge mine is a low blow."

"Fuck you," she whispered, "You judged me as soon as you found that bottle. You just don't have the guts to admit it."

She threw her arm out, and he winced as he was hit in the face by whatever she'd held in her hand. It wasn't until he blinked and looked down that he realised she'd thrown her ring at him. Without waiting for a response, she grabbed her phone and purse, slamming the bedroom door behind her. The front door followed, and when he finally realised that she was truly gone, it was too late.

Though she wanted nothing more than a drink, Jenny purposefully steered clear of any alcohol as she sat down on her couch. Her finger felt strange without the weight of her ring, and as she stared down at her bare hand, she finally allowed herself to cry. She knew that her drinking had started the argument, but she'd have been lying if she'd said that it hadn't been a long time coming between them. She'd never expected it to go quite this far, though, and she wiped furiously at her tears as she curled up on the couch. How had this happened?

It occurred to him as he stumbled up the basement steps, phone held tightly in his hand, that he was drunk. He hadn't been so inebriated in years and when he walked into the bedroom, he frowned. He'd thought that perhaps she would come back, that maybe they would be able to talk through this, but the room was noticeably empty. Her absence hung over the room like a cloud, and as he walked around the bed, he noticed a glint of silver on the floor.

He knelt to pick it up, stumbling in his intoxication, and as he landed roughly on the ground, he swore. Holding the ring between his fingers, he frowned at how much smaller it was than the one he had on his bedside table. It was a ridiculous thing to focus on, yet he smiled as the thought brought back memories of her hands. He could almost feel her hand in his, and as he pulled out his phone, he sighed.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Duck."

"Jethro. It's quite late, is something wrong?"

Gibbs frowned. He hadn't even thought to check the time.

"Jenny's gone."

"What do you mean? Gone how?"

"She left me. Again."

He couldn't keep the bitter laugh from escaping, and he leaned back against the bed, closing his eyes.

"What happened?"

Gibbs shrugged, then remembered that the doctor couldn't see him.

"Had a fight. Said a lot of bad things. Told her that she didn't appreciate my support. Basically, anyway."

"You said that to her?" Ducky's voice betrayed his shock.

"Not in so many words, but yeah," Gibbs replied, his words slurring slightly.

The doctor sighed.

"Jethro, are you drunk?"

"You know what...I think I am."

"Jethro, get some sleep. Talk to Jennifer in the morning and perhaps you'll be thinking more clearly. Maybe then you can talk this out."

"Wasn't drunk when we had the fight, Duck. 'sides, she doesn't want to talk."

Ducky sighed again and tried to think.

"How do you know that?"

"She threw her ring at me. It's in my hand right now."

"Oh, dear. You two may have caused irreparable damage this time."

Gibbs sat up sharply, instantly regretting the action. His vision swam, and he laid his head slowly on his knees, praying he wouldn't vomit.

"I can't lose her, Duck. Not again. I love her."

"Yes, I know you do. And she loves you. But love isn't the only thing that saves a relationship. It takes work. Communication. Trust. Neither of those are things that you do easily, and she doesn't trust others either, but you have to trust each other."

Gibbs frowned again, raising his head up carefully.

"How do I make her see that I trust her?"

"It will take time. But you'd better start fast."

Thanking the doctor, Gibbs hung up, standing on unsteady feet. He fell onto the bed, pulling Jenny's pillow close to him and breathing in deeply. Her perfume still lingered on the fabric and when he passed out minutes later, her ring was still held tightly in his hand.

Groaning as her phone tore her from a restless slumber, Jenny sighed as she glanced at the time.

"Shepard," she answered, her voice thick with sleep.

"Jennifer, I know it's unfathomably late, but I need to talk to you."

"What is it, Ducky?"

"It's about Jethro."

She groaned again, turning on the couch and throwing her hand over her eyes.

"Ducky, no offense, but I don't want to talk about Jethro. I don't need you to be the middle man in this."

Ducky sighed.

"I know, my dear, but you need to know how much this is hurting him. He's drunk, and I'm very concerned."

She laughed, running her hand through her tangled hair.

"It's not like he hasn't gotten drunk before."

"Yes, but he was nearly incoherent. I've never known him to even slightly slur his words when he drinks, and I could hardly make out what he was saying."

Damn. She had to admit that Ducky had a point. Gibbs held his liquor better than even she herself did. If he was as intoxicated as the older man said, she knew he wasn't coping.

"Ducky, we had a fight. He'll be fine in the morning."

"He told me that you took off your ring."

Shit.

"Yeah...I did. Ducky...I can't marry him if he won't trust me. He never wants to talk about anything that bothers him, and I know that men aren't much for talking about their feelings, but just once I would like to be able to help him through it. I feel like it's so one-sided sometimes because he won't let me help him."

"He knows you're there, Jennifer. He loves you more than you realise, and he trusts you with his life. More importantly, he trusts you with his heart."

She sighed, wiping away a few stray tears.

"Maybe he does...but I need to hear it from him, Ducky."

Gibbs smiled when he woke up to the sweet scent of Jenny's perfume. His head was pounding, and though he wanted nothing more than to bury his head in her shoulder and sleep, he knew he had to get up and prepare for work. He opened his eyes slowly, and when he realised that she was nowhere to be found, he frowned. Her pillow was next to him and he opened his hand slowly. The silver ring in his palm served to remind him of their argument, and he swore as the previous nights events came crashing in his mind.

He needed a shower and coffee in the worst way, and as he stepped under the hot water, he prayed that they wouldn't get a case today. He knew there was no way in hell he would be able to focus on anything other than the blinding pain in his head. Damn, this was going to be a long day.

Jenny had been avoiding him all day, and while he knew she was still angry, it didn't give her the right to shirk her duties as Director. When he tried to walk through her door, he was surprised when the handle merely slid through his fingers and he frowned. Cynthia had gone for her lunch, so at least she hadn't witnessed that particular embarrassment, but it was still infuriating.

He knocked on the door, waiting impatiently for her to unlock it, and when it finally swung open, he was unprepared for the anger in her eyes.

"Can I help you, Agent Gibbs?"

"Your door was locked," he said roughly.

"Yes. It was. Did you need something, or did you come up here simply to tell me about the locking mechanisms of my office door?"

He held up a folder.

"Need your signature."

"Leave it on Cynthia's desk. That is part of why she's here. If there's nothing else I can do for you, please go back down to the squad room."

He frowned, looking at her seriously.

"Jen, we—"

"Agent Gibbs, need I remind you that my title is Director? You will address me as such, or if that's too difficult for you, ma'am will suffice."

She closed the door, locking it again, and he simply stared at it for almost a full minute. When he decided that she wasn't going to open it, he angrily tossed the folder in his hand onto Cynthia's desk, nearly crashing into the younger woman as she returned from her lunch break. She stared after him in shock, and when she picked up the folder on her desk, she understood.

Knocking lightly on the silver door, she smiled when Jenny opened it and held out the folder.

"Agent Gibbs left this for you to sign."

The redhead nodded, briefly giving her a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Thank you, Cynthia. If he gives you any trouble today, please let me know."

"Yes, ma'am."

The door closed again, and if Cynthia was surprised to hear the lock click, she didn't let it show.

Sighing as she flipped through her reports, Jenny tried in vain to distract herself from the fact that a certain silver-haired agent was sitting just a floor below her. She'd been colder than she'd really wanted to be with him earlier, but she'd needed him to understand just how much their fight had hurt her. She couldn't keep giving in so quickly every time they fought, couldn't keep blindly believing him each time he said he trusted her. She needed proof, tangible evidence that he loved her enough to communicate with her, and until she found it, she would keep her distance. Nevermind the fact that it was nearly killing her to do so.

She knew that she'd always been somewhat blind when it came to him. Always let him get away with things that she would have condemned in anyone else, and as much as she loved him, she had to stop making excuses for him. Yes, she'd messed up. She knew that without a doubt. But even though he'd said he would help her, she hadn't wanted to burden him. Relationships were give and take, and his lack of communication made her feel as though all she'd ever done was take from him.

She didn't like feeling as though she didn't support him even though she knew she did, and she knew that if he would simply tell her when something was bothering him, she wouldn't feel so useless. She wanted to give him support, be the person he turned to when he needed to talk, or vent, but how was she supposed to do that if he never talked to her?

As she searched through her desk for a pen, she frowned when her fingers brushed over the picture she always kept in the back of the drawer. He'd given it to her when he'd returned from Mexico to prove to her that he did remember their time in Serbia, and she sighed. She couldn't remember the exact date that the photo had been taken, but she remembered the aftermath of the look in his eyes as he'd gazed at her through the lens. This fight was making her question everything she thought she'd known about their relationship, and she wondered if it really was all about sex with them. They'd joked about it before, but she had never truly believed it. Now, she wasn't so sure.

Finally finding her pen, she closed the drawer, wincing as it slammed shut on her hand, and she swore. Examining it carefully, she was relieved to find that it hadn't broken the skin and the steady throb of pain was enough to distract her from her jumbled thoughts. A sudden idea came to her and before she knew what she'd done, her knife was held in her hand, and a steady stream of blood dripped down her arm.

As she made her way into her bathroom, she wondered if it had been a one-off slip, or if this were a sign of something more. In a way, she supposed it didn't really matter, and when she wrapped the cut tightly, she was thankful that her blazer was black enough to hide the blood that had stained the fabric.

Gibbs was furious. Actually, furious didn't even begin to cover it. They'd fought before. Hell, their screaming matches were legendary at the office, and never...not once, had Jenny ever locked her door. It was nearly time for him to leave, and he'd been sneaking glances up at the catwalk all day, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. It seemed Her Majesty was staying locked in her throne room, however, so he stood to make his way to the elevator.

It opened slowly and he frowned as he stepped in. Wordlessly, he hit the button for the floor he wanted, deliberately ignoring the urge he had to storm up to her office and demand that she talk to him. He knew he was being stubborn, but damn it, so was she. Two could play it that way, and he'd be damned if he was going to admit defeat so early on. No matter how badly he wanted to.

Her first thought as the blood wrapped around her wrist (It looks like a satin ribbon) came to her in a haze as she cleaned it slowly, and she moved slightly, lifting up her shirt. The scars from Jonathan Harrison's attack had almost entirely faded from her stomach, and she traced over them with the blade in her hand. It hurt, not enough to distract her however, and she returned again to her wrist. Trying to line the knife up again with the previous cut, she pressed down harder, and as it bit into her flesh, she smiled.

There it was: the pain that she could handle. She could cope with this, and as she held the cloth in her other hand to the cut, she let the knife fall to the floor. Deciding that she would pick it up later, she frowned as she walked slowly back into her living room, falling on the couch in a manner than was less-than-graceful. The low ringing of her phone made her roll her eyes and when she saw the name on the caller ID, she groaned.

His words about being unreachable echoed in her mind, and she picked up the phone slowly. Her finger hovered over the button, and with a sigh, she tossed it next to her, not even caring as it went to her voicemail. Rule three be damned. She didn't want to talk to him, and she wasn't obligated to live her life by his rules.

When Jenny's voicemail picked up, Gibbs frowned and hung up. He wasn't one for leaving messages, and though he'd been determined to wait her out regarding their fight, his mind seemed to be working against him. He'd fallen asleep working on his boat and rather than dream of Jenny as he had expected, his dreams had been filled with Shannon and Kelly. Waking up with their faces fresh in his mind had prompted him to call the one woman he'd truly loved since their deaths, and when she hadn't answered, it had hit him like a ton of bricks. Sighing, he called Ducky, hoping that perhaps the older man could provide some much needed wisdom.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Ducky. You busy?"

"Not at all, just sitting down to a cup of tea. I trust you're less inebriated than the last time we spoke?"

"Yeah...about that...I shouldn't have done that."

He heard the doctor laugh and smiled.

"It's quite alright. How are you doing today?"

"Well, still haven't talked to Jen. I called and she didn't answer."

"Give her time, Jethro. She's likely experiencing a lot of emotions that she needs to process."

"Have you talked to her? What did she say?"

Ducky sighed, and Gibbs ran his hand through his hair, waiting. There was a long pause and for a moment, Gibbs was afraid he wouldn't answer.

"She doesn't feel as though you trust her."

"That's crazy, Duck."

"Is it? Jethro, how often do talk to Jennifer about your emotions? About the things that bother you?"

"Come on. That's got nothing to do with it."

"On the contrary, Jethro. It has everything to do with it. She feels as though your relationship is one-sided when it comes to showing support because you never give her the opportunity to help you. You need to talk to her. Not just to work through this argument, but if you don't want to lose her completely, whenever you can."

Gibbs sighed, knowing that Ducky was right. He thanked him and just before he hung up, he heard the Scottish doctor's voice softly in his ear.

"Two of the smartest idiots in love I know. Too stubborn for their own good."

He smirked.

"I heard that, Duck."

"You were meant to," came the smart reply.

Gibbs had decided that if Jenny wasn't going to answer his calls, he would simply wait for her in her office until she arrived. He'd purposefully arrived at an ungodly hour, only moderately surprised that she'd left the door unlocked, and as he sat behind her desk, he amused himself by spinning lazily in her chair. According to his watch, it was nearing 05:30, and he smirked. Jenny would be arriving in a few minutes, and he propped his feet up on her desk.

When the door opened, Jenny flipped on the light switch, and as she turned to face the desk, she jumped when she saw him. The coffee held in her hand fell to the floor, and she glared at him.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Jethro! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!"

He shrugged, looking at her seriously. She knelt down to pick up her spilled coffee and as she tossed the cup into the bin, her eyes narrowed at him.

"Mind telling me what the hell you're doing in my office at 05:30 without my permission?"

"Needed to talk to you."

"Haven't you ever heard of a phone, Gibbs?"

"Tried that. You didn't answer," he pointed out.

She straightened up, her eyes locking on his and she nodded.

"Get out of my chair. Now."

He did as he was told, intentionally walking around the side farthest away from her as she approached her desk, and when she sat down, she frowned.

"Okay. Talk."

"You're wrong, Jen."

"Oh, great start," she deadpanned.

He glared and she sighed.

"Go on, then."

"You're wrong," he repeated, "I do trust you. With everything. I'm not the best at talking about my emotions, never have been, but I'm going to do that for you. I have a hard time telling you when something bothers me because I know you have your own problems and life to deal with and I don't want to make it worse. I don't want you to see me as anything even close to being weak, and I don't want you to look at me differently."

"Do you realise that you've said almost the exact same thing that I said to you when we were dealing with Harrison? We both hate appearing weak, nevermind acknowledging that we feel that way, and we don't want to seem vulnerable to anyone."

He'd never stopped to consider it, but she was right. Her eyes met his steadily, and she continued.

"This isn't something that we can fix with sex. We always end up having sex as a way to ignore the deeper emotions of our problems, and that won't work here. Unless that's all we've ever been about."

He frowned, confused by her switch in gears.

"What?"

"Jethro, I need to know the truth. I've slept with men that I didn't love before. I know how it works. I know the body language: the way heads turn, necks arch, legs tangle together, but you never connect with the eyes. You and me...we never take our eyes off each other. So, I have to know: are you really that good an actor and I only saw what I wanted to see? I saw the emotion in your eyes, and I wanted to see it, God knows I did. But was it real?"

He walked around her desk, kneeling in front of her chair, and he stared into her eyes seriously.

"Jen...you are the only woman in the world that I've loved since Shannon. What we have is real, and it would kill me to lose you. Don't walk away from us. I know I'm not good with words like you are, but I'm going to make the conscious effort to talk to you. And if I don't, I give you full permission to slap the hell out of me whenever you deem necessary."

Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign that he was lying to her, and when she nodded, he gave her a small smile. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out her ring, holding it out to her.

"Jenny, will you marry me?"

She smiled, holding out her left hand. He slid the ring onto her finger, and he kissed her hand gently. Glancing down at her finger, she laughed softly and he frowned.

"What?"

"My hand felt so empty without this ring," she said quietly, "It's good to have it back."

He straightened up, pulling her with him and he frowned when she winced at the movement.

"You okay?"

She nodded.

"Fine."

Her eye twitched and he shook his head.

"Have you been drinking?" he asked suspiciously.

"No," she replied indignantly, "Believe it or not, I'm not always drunk. I haven't touched it since our fight."

Jenny walked around him, and when she ran her hand through her hair, he caught sight of the bandage on her arm. He frowned, approaching her slowly, and he touched her shoulder gently.

"What happened to your arm?"

"I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me, Jen."

She sighed, pushing back the sleeve of her jacket, and he knew, even without seeing the injury, what she had done. He reached for her wrist, his eyes sad as he touched the bandage gently, and he looked at her carefully.

"Is this the only one?"

She shook her head, and raised her shirt slowly. She hadn't bothered to place bandages on the shallow cuts on her stomach, and his fingers brushed tenderly over the slightly raised cuts. She didn't move away, but she wouldn't look at him. He tucked her hair behind her ear and tilted her chin up, willing her to meet his eyes.

"Why?"

"I..I didn't know how to deal with our fight. I needed something to help me cope, and since I can't drink..."

He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her hair gently.

"Oh, Jen...we're gonna get through this. You just slipped, it's okay. It doesn't mean you failed."

She shook her head.

"What if I'm just trading one addiction for another?"

He looked down at her, his eyes serious.

"You're not. This was just a slip. If you ever feel like you're going to do it again, come find me. Or call. Tell me how you're feeling. We're going to start talking about these things more."

She met his eyes finally, and when she raised up to kiss him gently, he tightened his hold on her. As she stepped out of his arms, she glanced at her watch, and smiled.

"We should get ready to actually start work."

He nodded.

"Yes, ma'am."

He kissed her again, and as he reached her door, she called his name. He turned, raising his eyebrow and she looked at him seriously.

"You owe me a cup of coffee."

He laughed, opening the door and nodding.

"I'll bring it right up, Director Shepard."

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the latest chapter! Reviews are like wine (amazing and make me smile)!