"Is there something wrong Jen?" was the first thing she had heard since coming into her office, a week after Sharif had been caught.

Sleep-deprived and annoyed, she took off her glasses slowly and closed the file she was trying to read. Looking up, she saw one Leroy Jethro Gibbs standing in front of her expectantly, an eyebrow cocked and waiting patiently for her answer.

"Excuse me?" she asked, blinking blearily – there couldn't have been a worse time for him to barge in and start provoking her. She was tired, sleepy and annoyed, she'd just left a meeting at the Hill and she was facing another joint operation between the FBI and Homeland Security that she needed to oversee in less than fourteen hours.

Needless to say, she wasn't in the mood to handle him.

"Is there a reason why you've been acting like a stone cold bitch?" he said, even more harshly this time.

"Excuse me?" she repeated, even more slowly, perking up at his tone.

His eyes pierced hers, fiercer than she had ever seen them, and she saw that he was genuinely angry with her.

"Usually, when I act like a stone cold bitch, Special Agent Gibbs, I do that with a reason and this week, I've – "

"No," he interrupted, and his eyes narrowed slightly. "To me. Is there a reason why you've been acting like a stone cold bitch to me, Director?"

She rolled her eyes. It was gonna be one of those fights, and it wasn't even lunchtime yet.

"Considering the fact that you're the most problematic thing in this agency, I'd think it'd give me plenty incentive to act like a stone cold bitch towards you, thanks." She snapped. She stood up and put her palms on the table, leaning towards him. "Just in case you haven't noticed, I haven't been home in four days, which means I haven't slept in a bed in four days, which also means that I'm irritated enough without your bullshit to add onto my overflowing plate, Jethro. Don't come barging in my office, with that tone and your fucking righteous attitude because guess what – newsflash! – the world doesn't revolve around you. I'm sick and tired of cleaning up your messes and dealing with your cocky and disrespectful attitude. I'm the goddamn Director, Gibbs – I'm not your Probie, I'm not even your partner, so start treating me like I've treated you every single goddamn day since we've met – with respect." She spat.

Her jaw tightened and her fist clenched until her knuckles were white and she silently hoped that Cynthia had had the sense to postpone the meetings she'd have this afternoon because right now she was so angry with the bastard that she wanted to punch a hole through the wall. She rarely cursed in the workplace – she liked to keep things as professional as possible, but this man was impossible. How dare he?

She was satisfied to see that his anger hadn't subsided, she was ready for this pissing match. She wanted to see him rot. He recovered surprisingly quickly from his shock at her words, and this time, when his eyes met hers, she could see that her words had just added fuel to the icy fire in his eyes.

"No."

She raised her eyebrows. Was that really all he had to say?

"No." he repeated. "You're not angry with me about that – you're angry with me about something else. This is personal. Director, or you wouldn't have made the mistake of cussing in the workplace."

Damn, he was good.

Admittedly, she was angry with him with something else entirely – but she was still sick and tired of everything she'd had to deal with and she desperately needed some sleep.

"You're angry – because I chose Hollis over you." He said.

She scoffed.

"I'm sorry," she said mockingly, "I didn't realise we were competing. I didn't even realise that there was a competition. I don't need to compete for your affections, Jethro, nor do I want to do it."

She paused, but before he could say anything else, she continued again.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Jethro, I can't believe that, perceptive as you are, you still can't see what the hell my problem is with you. Have you forgotten? Were you even listening the last time we were alone together? Did you forget what the hell you said and the promise I made to you? Why couldn't you just tell me to stop? Leading me on, making me wait for you and getting my hopes up, when in the end, you wanted someone else. You made me a fool, you bastard. A hopeful, wide-eyed fool who waited and waited and waited on someone that felt less than an iota of what I fucking felt. You're a bastard and God how I wish we never fucked in the first place because of all the shit it landed me in."

She grabbed her glasses, her bag and her phone and slammed the door behind her. This was the first time she'd take a sick day, anyway.