A/N: Before we get into this chapter, let me say: please don't hate me! I had absolutely NO intention of writing it this way when I began this chapter, but once the idea came into my head, I couldn't let it go. Jenny and Gibbs suffer a terrible tragedy, and this time, Jenny is the one needed to pick up the pieces. Again, please don't hate me! *ducks from flying stones*
Slamming the door so hard that it rattled did little to assuage Jenny's anger and she all but threw herself into the chair behind her desk. A botched op had just come to light, and she sighed as she noticed how badly her hands were shaking. She knew that drinking wasn't an option, no matter how much she wanted it, and she ran her hand through her hair. Her purse was in her desk drawer, and she tried to pretend that she didn't remember the knife that always resided in the bottom.
She opened her email, trying in vain to distract herself, but soon realised she couldn't focus on the words. Opening the drawer, she grabbed her purse, and pulled out the knife, admiring the way the light reflected off the blade.
It would make you feel better. Your hands would stop shaking, you would be able to breathe, just once wouldn't hurt.
The tightening in her chest was getting worse, and she tried to ignore the voice in her head that sounded strangely like her own. Closing her eyes, she counted to ten, first in English then French, and when she still couldn't think about anything else, she moaned quietly. She stood from her chair and began pacing around the room, hoping that if she put enough distance between herself and the knife that she wouldn't be tempted.
"Come on, Jennifer," she whispered, "Get your shit together."
Operations failed all the time: bad intel, missed targets, wasted opportunities...so why was this one affecting her so badly? She sighed as she realised that her anxiety had little to do with the operation and everything to do with her stress level in general. She was running a federal agency, dealing with snarky politicians, planning a wedding, and trying to battle her own addictions all at the same time, and it seemed like it was finally getting the better of her. To say nothing of the trauma she was still going through as a result of the past seven months. She laughed bitterly. No wonder she was a mess.
Without even realising it, she had made her way back to her desk and was reaching for the knife. She shook her head, sweeping it onto the floor, and picked up the phone on her desk, praying he hadn't gotten a case. If he had, she didn't know what in the hell she would do.
Gibbs sighed as his phone rang and debated for a moment on answering it. It was nearing the end of the day, and he really didn't want to get a case right now. Still...rule three...
"Yeah. Gibbs."
"I need you to come to my office. Now."
He sighed again, rolling his eyes.
"Can it wait? I'm a little busy."
He didn't add that he was busy doing as little as possible because neither of them had gotten much sleep the night before.
"No, it really can't."
"On my way."
DiNozzo sat up, looking confused as he walked by and frowned.
"We get a case, boss?"
"If we did, would I be walking to the Director's office?"
Ziva laughed, and Tony had the good grace to look embarrassed.
When he opened the door, he was surprised to find his favourite redhead pacing back and forth in her office, looking more than a little upset. He frowned, closing the door and when she noticed him standing near her, she sighed.
"You wanted to see me?"
She nodded, still pacing, and he looked at her warily.
"About?"
"I need you to distract me."
"What?"
"Distract me," she repeated, bringing her eyes to his.
He watched her for a moment, noticing her agitation, and took a cautious step forward, not attempting to touch her yet.
"Something happen?"
She nodded, then shook her head.
"Had an op go south, but I don't think that's the problem. I feel really anxious and I don't know why."
"Okay," he said slowly, "So the distraction?"
She sighed, her steps increasing in speed, and he frowned. Her hands were shaking and as she passed him again, he reached for her.
"Jenny. What is it?"
"I...I feel like I can't breathe, my pulse is fast, and all I can think about is—"
He looked at her seriously, and she pulled out of his grasp.
"Is what?"
Her eyes flickered to her desk and he saw the knife sitting on the top. Understanding filled his eyes and he nodded.
"Talk to me. Walk me through what's making you feel this way."
"That's just it, Jethro! I don't know! Nothing majorly catastrophic has happened, there's no logical reason for me to feel this way. I know...I know if I could just make a few neat little cuts, it would be better. Just a few."
He shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers.
"No. You don't stop at just a few, Jen. You always mean to, but you don't. That isn't the answer."
She nodded, walking over to the desk and picking up the knife. Before she could stop to think too much, she pushed it into his hands, her fingers tight around his.
"Take this away from me. Please."
"Jen—"
"I don't trust myself with it. Jethro, I can't have it around. If I know where it is, I'm going to use it."
He nodded, slipping it into his pocket, and when he pulled her to him, she frowned.
"I'm proud of you, Jen."
"What?" she asked weakly.
"You wanted to do something that was dangerous to your health, you wanted to give in to that temptation, and you didn't. You're so much stronger than you give yourself credit for."
Nodding against his chest, Jenny stepped back, looking at him with wide eyes.
"If it's such a good thing, why do I feel so terrible?"
He laughed, kissing her forehead gently.
"Because you're crazy."
She slapped his arm, and the glare she sent him made him laugh harder. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she flipped him off as she walked back to her desk and pointed to the door.
"Don't you have work to do?"
"Nah. My boss lets me get away with pretty much everything 'cause I'm sleeping with her."
"Hm...sounds like a crazy woman."
"Certifiable," he said seriously.
"She'd have to be to put up with you."
He smirked and opened the door, winking at her as he shut it slowly behind him. Jenny laughed as she put her glasses on, trying to find something to focus on rather than the nagging voice in the back of her mind.
The quiet vibrating of his phone against the bedside table woke him slowly, and he blinked in confusion. He frowned as he answered it, wondering who on earth would be calling him at 03:00 on a Wednesday, and he tried to keep his voice quiet enough that he wouldn't wake Jenny.
"Yeah. Gibbs."
"Leroy, I know it's late, but this is Kevin Foster, I deliver to your dad's store. I got your number from his address book."
"Yeah?"
"I hate to be the one to tell you this..."
"What happened?"
He sat up sharply in the bed, the familiar feeling of dread washing over him, and he gripped his phone tighter in his hand.
"Leroy...I'm so sorry."
"What happened?" he repeated, his voice low and urgent.
"Jackson had a stroke. It—it was bad...they tried everything, but...you have no idea how sorry I am."
He hung up, not even bothering to respond, and when the phone fell from his hand, the movement was enough to rouse the sleeping redhead next to him.
"Jethro? What's going on?"
Saying nothing, he slowly picked up his phone, and placed it back on the bedside table. Jenny sat up, her eyes never leaving him, and she reached for his hand.
"Jethro?"
"It's...Dad."
"What happened?"
"Stroke."
Jenny's heart was pounding in her chest, and she held his hand tighter.
"Is he—"
"Gone."
She blinked hard, trying to keep the tears from falling, and looked at him seriously.
"Jethro...oh, God...I'm...I'm so sorry," she whispered.
"I'll find out more in the morning. Make some calls."
She nodded, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair, and he sighed. Settling back down in the bed, he pulled her close to him, breathing in the comforting scent of her perfume that always lingered even after a shower. She frowned, wanting to talk to him about the emotions she was sure were running rampant in his head, but she instead curled her fingers around his shirt, holding back her tears.
"Jethro?"
She felt like she'd said his name more in the last ten minutes than she had in the last eight years. He made a small noise to show he was listening, and she took a deep breath.
"Are you going to be okay?"
"M'fine, Jen. Go back to sleep. Work in three hours."
She shook her head.
"You're not going to work. Director's orders."
He frowned, shifting to look down at her.
"Jenny, you can't—"
"You listen to me, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and you listen well. You are not going in to work tomorrow. That is an order, and as your boss, I expect you to follow it."
Glaring at her for a moment, he finally nodded, and she kissed him gently.
"I love you," she whispered.
He kissed her again in response, and when he turned so that her body was underneath his, she frowned, staring up at him. His lips met hers again, and he pinned her under him a bit more roughly than usual.
"Jethro—" she tried again.
His kiss was hard, urgent, almost painful, and she pulled away, her hands on his chest.
"Jethro, wait."
He ignored her, pinning her wrists above her head, and she fought against the wave of panic that surged through her. She knew he would never hurt her, but she'd never seen him this insistent, and when he kissed her again, she didn't return it.
"Jethro, your father just died, we can't—"
"I know," he said roughly, his lips trailing down her throat.
She would never tell him, but he was beginning to scare her. Not that she believed for a second that he would hurt her, but because she was terrified that he was going to break. She tried to move from beneath him, and when she had finally freed her wrists, she pushed his shoulder gently.
"Wait."
He kissed her again and she pushed him harder.
"Jethro, no. Stop."
As soon as he heard the word, he immediately released her, and she moved away from him, sitting up slowly. She watched him warily, and she thought she could detect a hint of anger in his eyes. She knew she was being a hypocrite, knew she'd asked him to do the very same thing for her when she'd needed to forget her pain, but she wasn't about to let him make the same mistakes she had. She reached out, touching his shoulder gently, and he glanced at her.
"I'm sorry, Jethro. I just can't."
"You were scared."
So he had noticed.
"Not of you," she clarified, looking at him seriously, "For you. I know that you want to ignore this pain, push it to the side, or even...replace it with a different kind of pain, but...that's not the healthy way to deal with this."
He met her eyes for a fraction of a second and he frowned.
"I would never hurt you, Jen."
"I know. There's nothing in the world I have more certainty in. But...you're not thinking straight. You're going through an unimaginable amount of pain, and trying to ignore it with sex will only make it worse."
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and just before he reached the door, he turned.
"I love you, too."
She gave him a weak smile, and when she heard the basement door shut below, she finally gave in to the tears she'd been holding back.
Pulling the bottle of bourbon from its hiding place, Gibbs sighed as he poured a generous amount into the mason jar he'd just emptied. He felt as though he had been punched in the stomach, as though his entire world had been turned on its head, and in a way, he supposed it had. He took a long drink and when he heard Jenny's footsteps on the stairs, he sighed again. He knew she was worried, knew she wanted to talk, but he didn't think he was in a good place to do it yet.
"Jethro? I made a few calls. The funeral is scheduled for Saturday."
"Fine."
"Are you going?"
"Haven't decided."
He took a slow drink, letting the liquor sit on his tongue, welcoming the burning sensation, and she sighed.
"You have to deal with this."
"I'll deal with this in my way, you deal with it in yours, Jen."
She frowned, wishing he would look at her, but she nodded nonetheless.
"I'll be upstairs if you want to talk," she said quietly.
She didn't wait for an acknowledgment, turning on the step and walking back to the upper level of the house. Pulling out her phone, she ran her hand through her hair as she called Ducky, and she sank down on the couch.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Ducky."
"Jennifer! Neither you or Jethro is in the office today, is everything alright?"
"Not exactly."
"What's happened?"
She sighed.
"Jethro's father passed away."
"Oh, dear. How is he taking it?"
She shrugged, laying back on the couch.
"It's Jethro. How do you think? He's pushing it away, pretending like it didn't happen. The same way he does with everything."
"And you? How are you handling it, my dear? You knew his father."
"I'm...it's sad, and I didn't know him that well, but...I'm more worried about him."
She was silent for a moment, and Ducky waited, knowing that she would speak again soon.
"How do I help him, Ducky?"
"Just be there for him, Jennifer. He's going to need you, whether he admits it or not, and when he turns to you, just be there."
"Thanks, Ducky."
"You're welcome. Best of luck, my dear."
She wiped away the tears falling as she hung up the phone, and though she tried to ignore it, she felt as though her heart was being ripped out: not just for the loss of her future father-in-law, but also for the pain of the man she loved in the basement.
No matter how hard he tried, Gibbs couldn't stop himself from pouring another drink, and as he swallowed it, he dimly realised that he was angry. The pain of losing his father was there, certainly, but underneath it all, growing stronger every minute, was an anger that he hadn't expected. More surprising still was when he realised that it was directed at Jenny. His father's death hadn't been her fault by any stretch of the imagination, but his reaction to it was.
She was directly responsible for the slow repair of the relationship between them, and he knew that if she hadn't insisted, he would have never reached out to him. If he'd never begun mending their strained relationship, his death wouldn't be hitting him this hard, and he wouldn't feel as though he were going to suffocate under the enormity of it all.
He sighed when he heard her open the door and she walked slowly down the stairs, no doubt wary of being near him. She paused at the bottom of the steps, her eyes watching his every movement, and her voice was soft when she spoke.
"Jethro, can we talk?"
"You can."
She sighed, running her hair through her hair.
"I know that you don't like talking about your feelings. I'm not particularly fond of it myself, but—"
"Here."
She frowned, staring at the glass he held in his outstretched hand.
"Jethro, I—"
He shook it slightly, the liquid sloshing around in the jar, and he glared at her.
"Take it."
She took it from him warily, not drinking it, and she frowned again, her eyes wide.
"This is hard for you. I know that, but please..talk to me. I want to help you through this. I loved Jackson too, and it—"
"This is all your fault, Jen."
"Me? Jethro, how is this my fault?"
"You made me care about him!" he yelled, causing her to jump, "Before you came waltzing back into my life, I was perfectly fine to keep my distance from him. You came back, and all but demanded I work things out with him! It's your fault!"
Jenny frowned.
"Excuse me? Waltzed back into your life? Is that what you think happened? I was raped, Jethro. Nearly left for dead in a parking lot. I didn't ask for that to happen! Mending your relationship with Jackson was a good thing! I know it's difficult right now, I know you're lashing out at me because you're upset, but don't blame me for this! I didn't kill your father!"
"No, you just made me give a damn! I was happy with the way things were!"
"Were you?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah, Jen, I was!"
She looked at him, her eyes locking on his, and she shook her head slowly. Approaching him slowly, she reached out to touch his face gently with the hand that wasn't holding a drink, and he closed his eyes, turning away from her.
"Jethro...don't. Don't shut me out. Not now. Tell me how to help you."
He turned around again, his eyes hard as he looked at her.
"You can leave me alone. Let me deal with this in my own way."
He glanced at the hand holding the mason jar and frowned.
"Didn't give that to you so you'd just hold it."
She sighed, reaching for his hand and pressing the glass into it.
"Fine. You hold it, then."
Without another word, she turned and walked to the steps, not bothering to disguise her pain, and when the door slammed shut behind her, he winced at the sound.
Jenny was curled up on the bed when he finally came up from the basement just before midnight, and as he watched her sleep, he frowned at the tracks made on her cheek by her tears. He felt like an ass for pushing her away, but this was entirely new to him. He knew she'd loved his father as well, hell, at times he'd thought Jackson had loved Jenny more than his own son, and he was beyond pissed off at himself for making that pain worse.
He kissed her tear-stained cheek gently, careful not to wake her as he laid next to her, and he turned to face the wall. Flashes of memories with his father had plagued him all day, but the memory that haunted him the most was one that would never be made. He knew Jackson had been so excited about his wedding to Jenny, and now he would never get to experience it. Never get to see her in a beautiful white dress, never tease his son about being whipped at work because his boss was now his wife...It was this thought, more than any other, that caused his tears to fall, and he buried his face in the pillow, hoping that he didn't wake the woman sleeping next to him.
Unbeknownst to Gibbs, Jenny had woken up almost as soon as he kissed her cheek, and when she heard him start to cry, she frowned. Should she let him know that she was awake, or should she let him deal with it alone as he'd told her to? After debating with herself for a few moments, Jenny decided that she couldn't stand to let him bear it alone, and she raised up on her arm, turning to look at him. She touched his shoulder gently, not wanting to startle him, and spoke quietly.
"Jethro..."
He turned to face her, and she felt her heart break at the tears in his eyes. She ran her thumb under his eyes, as he'd done for her so many times before, and she pulled him into her arms, holding him as close as she possibly could.
"Why did this happen? We were just starting to work things out, Jen."
"I know," she murmured, running her fingers through his hair, "Sometimes, these things just happen. I don't know why. It isn't fair, it isn't right, but...you just have to accept that there are some situations that you can't control."
"Everything was going good."
"Shh...I know."
"I never wanted this to happen. I knew it would, but I never thought that I would care. We didn't talk for so long, and I just figured that I would hear about it and move on. After...after you were...I thought maybe patching things up would be a good idea."
"It was, Jethro."
She pulled away, just enough that she could look into his eyes, and she ran her hand over his cheek gently.
"Your father loved you. He might not have always shown it, or made the best decisions, but he loved you. Don't ever doubt that. He knew you loved him, too. I know he did."
"Jen..."
"Yeah?"
"You're...you're okay, right? I mean, you're not sick anymore? Everything is good with you?"
She frowned, confused by the sudden change of topics. She nodded slowly, and he laid his head on her shoulder.
"Good."
"Why? The sudden curiosity, I mean."
"Can't lose you, too. You're all I have."
Ah...now she understood. He hadn't really jumped topics at all. He was scared that she would be gone just as suddenly as his father had been.
"I'm fine. I'm not going anywhere."
He frowned, pulling back to look at her, the look of horror on his face so serious that she didn't know how to respond.
"You...I handed you that bourbon without thinking."
She shook her head, her eyes meeting his in the darkness.
"I didn't drink it, Jethro," she said quietly, "It's okay."
"Still...I was going to throw away your sobriety because I was angry at you. Over something that you had no control over."
"Don't worry about that now. It's late, and you need to get some sleep. At least try."
He nodded, laying down on the mattress, and he raised his eyes to hers, never once looking away.
"Will you be here?"
She leaned down, kissing him gently, and gave him a reassuring smile.
"Until the very end."
True to her word, Jenny stayed wrapped in Gibbs' arms the entire night, but she never once came close to sleeping. While his breakdown had been hard for her to witness, she knew that it was necessary. Good, even. She watched him sleep as the sun rose slowly over the horizon, thinking back to the days immediately following the loss of her own father. If he was experiencing anything even remotely like that kind of pain, there was no way in hell she was going to leave him alone.
He turned in his sleep, reaching for her waist, and when he pulled her closer, he kissed the base of her throat gently. She smiled softly, curling her body into his, and when she tucked her head under his chin, she took a deep breath. She knew that she would have to at least try to convince him to attend Jackson's funeral, but in all honesty, she completely understood why he was considering not going. It was going to be an emotionally charged day, in a place where he wasn't exactly comfortable, and she really couldn't blame him at all for being hesitant.
Running her fingers through his hair, she drew back when she realised he had woken, and he cracked open one stunning blue eye to look at her.
"How long have you been awake?" she asked suspiciously.
He shrugged.
"Long enough. Your hand is cold."
She laughed softly, and he raised up, looking at her seriously.
"What time is it?"
"06:45. We're officially on bereavement leave, so work is covered."
"Wasn't asking about work," he muttered, "How long since you've slept?"
She rolled her eyes.
"Jethro, do not make this about me right now."
He frowned, and pushed her farther back on the bed, kissing her slowly. Her hands immediately wound into his hair, and when he pulled back, his eyes were serious.
"Yes or no, Jen?"
Thinking, she frowned and tried to sort out her emotions. He was definitely calmer than he'd been the day before, and this didn't seem to be a way of running from his pain. But did she really want to do this so soon after a death in the family? Then again, if she told him "no" every time someone they knew died, they would never have sex again.
"Yes," she said finally.
He kissed her again, pushing her shirt up so that it bunched around her ribs, and he brushed his lips gently over the exposed skin. They moved farther down her body and as he traced his tongue over her hip bones, she shivered beneath him.
"You are so beautiful, Jen," he whispered huskily.
She loved the way his voice sounded when he said her name like that. He pulled her underwear between his teeth, yanking it down her thighs and when his fingers brushed against her, her head fell back against the pillow. His lips and tongue soon took the place of his hands and as he moved in and out of her, she moaned, throwing her hand over her mouth. She wasn't sure why she felt the need to be quiet, perhaps it was the early hour, and he flicked his tongue against her again.
Her free hand wound into his hair, tugging harder as he continued to taste her, and her hips moved of their own accord.
"Don't stop," she whispered.
His teeth lightly scraped over her, and the pain mixed with pleasure was enough to send her over the edge. The moan that fell from her lips sounded strangely like his name, and he continued to move his tongue over her. It was so intense that it was almost painful, and she cried out again as her second orgasm crashed through her and left her shaking.
He raised up, kissing the inner skin of her thighs and when he looked down at her, he gave her a smile.
"I love you."
"I love you too, Jethro. More than you know."
She reached for him, fully intending to repay him for the intense orgasm he'd just given her, but he caught her wrist, shaking his head.
"Not now."
"But why—"
"You helped me through last night, and I wanted to thank you."
She rolled her eyes, pulling him in for a kiss and he smirked as he pulled away.
"And I just wanted to watch you."
Smacking him lightly, she kissed him again and when he gathered her into his arms, he placed a light kiss on her temple.
"Will you at least try to get some sleep now?"
She yawned, glaring at him, and she knew that somehow, that had been his plan all along.
"Fine. But I would still like to return the favour."
"You don't need to convince me, Jenny."
She laughed as she began to fall asleep, and as he held her in his arms, he wondered how in the hell they were supposed to make it through the next week alive.
Though he'd used his talents to get Jenny to sleep, he couldn't deny that she had helped him through the first initial wave of shock and grief. He'd experienced grief before, no doubt about it, but he had the distinct feeling that somehow this was going to be different. Going back and forth in his mind about whether or not to make the trip to Stillwater for the funeral, he thought he had finally decided, and he pulled out his phone as he crept down into his basement.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Duck."
"Jethro...how are you, my boy? Jennifer told me about your father. You have my deepest sympathies."
"It's been rough, but...Jenny's been great. Really helped me through it."
"So you've finally started talking to her about your feelings...I'm proud of you."
"Yeah. Anyway, I was wondering if you'd be up for a trip to Stillwater for the funeral. Jen's going too, but I would really like it if you could be there."
"Of course I will. When should I be ready?"
"We're leaving Friday afternoon. Want to get there early enough to get settled and such."
"Certainly. I'll need to clear it with work, but I'll be there."
Gibbs laughed and he wondered how long it would take Ducky to realise what he'd just said.
"Is something funny, Jethro?"
"Clear it with work, Duck? Jenny's your boss!"
The doctor laughed and Gibbs rolled his eyes good-naturedly.
"Yes, quite right. Sometimes I forget that our dear Jennifer is also the Director. I'll pack a few things."
"Thanks, Ducky. Appreciate it."
"Anytime. Give my love to Jennifer."
"Sure thing."
Hanging up the phone, Gibbs picked up the mason jar of bourbon Jenny had shoved into his hand the night before. In spite of the pain he was going through, and how high he knew her emotions must have been running, she hadn't touched it. He hated himself for even considering placing her in that situation, but he'd never been more proud to hear her refuse him. It had taken an incredible strength and he only hoped that he could summon up the same strength to make it through the weekend. God, he hoped he could.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. Hopefully I didn't lose you! Let me know what you think!