A/N: Thanks for the reviews, once more. They are always welcome. This chapter has taken a little more to be betaread because boyfriend is starting his working career and every day has less time. Darling, it was so much fun, reading and correcting this at your side while we were at Starbuscks. I truly appreciate that you with your busy schedule, still get some time to encourage my writings. Love you so much.

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He dragged his feet along the basement stairs. What had begun as a quiet day had left him even more tired than a military operation. He found his bottle of bourbon and poured some in the first glass he saw.

The alcohol from the drink burned his dry lips. Not caring, he downed the whole thing almost at once. The last thing he wanted now was to get drunk, but he desperately needed the alcohol. He would just be careful not to overdo it.

His mind was still racing and he looked for a piece of sandpaper. He needed something to keep his hands busy, since his head was giving him a hard time. It was true that he was done with the sanding in the boat's main exterior, but there were probably some wood grains in the rudder that needed his attention before the primer coat. And he didn't care if there weren't.

He found some sandpaper and lay down under the vessel. The light wasn't the best and he had to go get a small lamp to help him see. But while his hands sanded away, his mind was elsewhere entirely. It was at the Director's Office, back at NCIS, where he and Jenny were kissing. Eagerly. Hard.

A child. She was out of her mind. That had to be it. And so was he, to agree to such a thing. Not that he had formally agreed, he wasn't sure that he had actually, at any point, said yes to her madness. However, he knew that there was no turning back now.

He couldn't help but remember the day Shannon had told him he was going to be a father. It had been completely different. Much more… normal. It was unexpected, and he'd been hit with a mixture of happiness and fear, of joy and inadequacy. Being a marine on active duty meant he had missed a great part of her pregnancy. But the moment he came home, she would be there to fill him in on everything. The first kick, the latest doctor appointment, the latest present she had received, which usually turned out to be some miniature clothing that made him worry about how tiny babies are.

And now, more than twenty years later, he was going through the same thing. Not with the serene, light-hearted Shannon but with the fierce, passionate Jenny. And he was over twenty years older.

There was something else, something he hadn't told Jenny because he knew she wasn't going to like it. She wasn't exactly at the best age to have her first child. He was aware that things had changed a lot in the last decade but it still made him worry. Jenny took pride in not showing her age, but he had been her boss and her partner, and he knew perfectly well that she was in her early forties. It made him fear for both mother and baby. The wisest thing to do was probably to ask Ducky about it, but he knew it was out of the question. The good doctor would immediately think his old friends had both gone insane. Or worse.

He slid out from under the boat. More bourbon, that's what he needed. He drank the second glass as quickly as he had drunk the first. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Even after two shots of bourbon, he could still feel the taste of her warm lips.

He had escorted her back to her car and she had kissed him again. She had kissed him while they were waiting for the lift, she had kissed him inside the lift itself and she had kissed him before leaving him and showing herself to the security detail and driver. And of course he had always kissed back. It felt so long since last time they had been that way.

He was still hurt. It had taken him all these years to admit it. He was still hurt by her departure; by the shameful way she chose to get rid of him. He had been so hurt that he had thrown himself into a silly marriage with Stephanie. The poor woman didn't deserve it, really. He couldn't even begin to understand how hard must have been, feeling like someone's replacement. And he had done it to all his ex-wives.

A month ago, Jenny had confided how hurt she had been because he had never told her about his family. What she didn't know was that he had meant to tell her before, in Europe. Twice, when they were lying in bed, entwined in each other, he had raised his hand, caressed her flushed face and taken a deep breath. Twice he had failed to tell her about the worst tragedy of his life.

She was the one who screwed up what they had, but he was aware, deep inside, that he was also to blame for letting her go so easily. He was proud and he was hurt. But now he wouldn't let anything ruin them again. They were older, though probably not as wiser as they liked to think. It was about time for them both to settle down. Of course they would never get the typical suburban house, their jobs wouldn't allow for a normal life, but he was ready to fight for all he could get.

And so, without even noticing, absorbed as he was in his daydreams of a different life, Jehtro Gibbs drifted into sleep underneath his boat.

Her house felt colder than ever. She had always loved the grandeur of her Georgetown mansion, but that night it was overwhelming. Cold. Lonely.

Naomi had certainly left her something to eat in the fridge, but she wasn't hungry. Exhausted, she went up the stairs. She turned on the lights in her room, which at least made the house feel a little warmer. She changed into her nightgown as quickly as her tired body would allow, not even caring where she threw the pieces of her expensive suit. Her equally expensive stiletto heels were kicked unceremoniously into a distant corner of the room.

She shivered under the cold embrace of the sheets, remembering that not even an hour ago she had been in his warm arms. And she knew then that she didn't want to leave those arms, ever again.

For nine years she had asked herself whether she'd made the right choice, but of course the answer was constantly changing. In the daytime, in the field, undercover or otherwise, she felt that she had been born for that. For being an agent. The best agent. But at night, or when she was, for some reason on another, feeling down, she regretted every damned word she had written in that stupid letter. It was then that the loneliness would hit her, as strongly as a physical blow.

During the first year, she had tried almost everything to get over him. She got drunk off-duty, just to forget his face and sleep with the first man she laid her eyes on. It never worked. Every time the alcohol would take her beyond her senses she would see his face, staring back at her. Every time she grasped a man's flesh in pleasure she had to bite on her tongue, which wanted to scream his name aloud.

After a while she had to face she was only hurting herself even more. She had chosen her work over him and she had to live with it. And, after a monumental effort, she learnt how to do just that. Repressed love. It calmed her down and even helped her as an agent. Her judgment got better. So did her handling of suspects and victims.

Promotions continued to come, until she climbed the last step and was invited for the position of the Director. And then she knew she had everything. Everything her ambition had dreamed of. But there is no such thing as perfection, and fate threw her its greatest challenge: that was when Jethro came back into her life.

She couldn't sleep. Rolling in her bed, she reached for the bedside lamp. The sudden light made her blink. When her eyes got used to it, she glanced over at the alarm clock. 0200. Not good for someone who had to be up by 0500 and at work by 0700. She would look dreadful in the morning, which would mean layers of make-up. Trying to get some sleep, she switched off the light and rolled over.

Gibbs was almost praying for a case. His team was being as childish as the day before, and he wasn't in the mood to put up with it. Actually, after that conversation the previous night, he wasn't in the mood for much of anything. He had hoped to arrive before Jenny, but he was out of luck. She was so early, in fact, that if he hadn't escorted her to her car last night, he would have thought she had slept in her office. Even so, the first thing he did when he arrived was to pay her a visit. Cynthia, who probably had also turned into a morning person, told him that the Director had just left for a meeting with SecNav at the MTAC and didn't want to be interrupted. And so far no one had left MTAC yet. He should know. He'd been looking up all morning.

- Boss?

- What now, McGee?

- Did you check your e-mail? Silly question, I know… - he added after received the famous Gibbs glare.

- What about the e-mail?

McGee turned his screen towards him – Another one of those lectures… tomorrow.

- What about?

- Safety And Security At Work.

- Did anyone tell them that this is national security agency? We're supposed to deal with danger.

- Er, Boss… not that kind of security. It's more like… how to use fire extinguishers and organise ourselves in case of evacuation…

- Oh, gimme a break! We went last year! – Tony blurted from his desk.

- It's annual – McGee remarked.

- Why? The extinguisher's the same as last year! Boss, can't we wriggle out of it?

- Only if we have a case. You know how it works, DiNozzo.

- We can murder Ziva. Then we'd have a case.

- You'd be the one to show up dead – Ziva said without looking up from her paperwork.

- Boss, can't you ask the Director? We all fell asleep last year! Even she was daydreaming, I could tell that.

Gibbs wondered what Jenny could have been daydreaming about, but knowing her, it could have been anything since her last meeting with SecNav to what was she going to have for lunch. But at least the lecture gave him an excuse to go to her office. Not that he actually needed one, but it was handy.

The phone on his desk rang. After listening to a few words from the other side of the line, he hung up – Dead naval sergeant found floating in the Potomac. Gear up.

- Cynthia?

Her assistant took her eyes off the screen – Yes, madam?

- How's my schedule for tomorrow? From what I've seen, you haven't included the lecture yet.

- I know, it's been… difficult. You have the meeting with the Secretary of the Department of Defence and then lunch with Senator Holeman and be back at time to coordinate an operation at the MTAC and…

- Cynthia, I've read my own schedule – just hearing it made her even more tired.

- Oh, of course, I'm sorry, Director, but I just don't know who am I going to cut out so you can attend the lecture… er, with all due respect madam, do you really need to attend it?

- If I don't, everyone else will flee after the first five minutes.

- I see… well, I think…

- Tell Senator Holeman that we are going to have lunch next Monday – she knew that she couldn't postpone him much longer, but having lunch with a man who just liked to talk about himself wasn't really appealing.

- Very well. So, the seminar begins at 1400, and you'll have to be at MTAC at 1600.

- Perfect. Call the senator, then.

Cynthia was reaching for the phone when she was interrupted.

- And Cynthia…

- Yes, Director?

- Has Agent Gibbs' team returned yet?

- They have, but I think they went out again. Would you like me to contact them?

- No, no. That's all – Jenny came back into the office, closing the door behind her. Instead of sitting back at her desk, she went over to the window. She needed to stretch her legs after an afternoon spent sitting behind a desk and a morning stuck in MTAC.

The lecture was really going to be boring, she knew that as well as everyone else in the agency. The only thing that had kept her from falling asleep last year was her image as the Director. Well, that and the fact that Jethro was sitting close to her, and she couldn't help remembering their time together.

Jethro… she hadn't seen him at all yet. After a restless night, she ended up arriving at work at that ungodly hour when the only people around were the cleaning staff and her security detail. But instead of having some time to talk to him between her schedules, SecNav had chosen that morning to nag her about some petty issues until it was lunchtime and Jethro was out in the field.

Sighing, she returned to her desk. If she wanted to do not leave the building past decent hours, she definitely should go back to work.

The sound of a turning doorknob distracted her from the documents she was reading. It was getting late, judging by how dark it had gotten outside. Dropping the documents on the desk, she took off her spectacles and looked at her long awaited visitor.

- Good evening, Jethro. Long day?

- You bet.

- I have what you need right here – she rose towards her drinks cabinet but he caught her before she even got there.

- I'm sure you do – he pulled her towards him and kissed her gently. Much more gently than she had expected.

- Now you have to choose. Bourbon or kiss – she teased him.

- Bourbon. From your lips.

- Stop. We need to talk.

- I know. Sit down, I'll pour.

- First of all, – she returned to her seat and took the glass he gave her – how's the case?

- Solved. Do you have any idea how much the Potomac stinks? Palmer slipped while he was helping Ducky get the body out of the water and dived into loads of garbage. We all had to help him get out of there. DiNozzo and McGee were particularly helpful, especially when they slipped in the exact same place, into the exact same garbage. Ducky, Ziva and myself all had to push them into the truck, and we took the car. We just couldn't bear that smell. Of course we shoved them into the showers as soon as we got here. But anyway, about the case; nothing too complex. Our Sergeant wanted his cocaine fix, had no money, picked a fight with his dealer and ended up floating in the river with three stabs. We got the dealer and his buddies. Metro Police should be picking them tomorrow.

- I see. Nice work then.

- Easy. They were only tough when they were up against stupid teenagers and junkies. What about your day?

- Not very productive. SecNav decided to throw all his frustrations upon me. But let's forget them all.

- What do you want to talk about?

- Jethro, I've been counting back. My last menstruation was two weeks ago, and it was the first one after I stopped taking the pill, so this week I enter my fertile period. We should arrange things for the conception.

- What? This soon?

- Yes. My place or yours?

- Jenny, let me take a breath. Why the rush?

- It's no rush, I simply don't want to wait another month.

- Look, I'm still trying to convince myself I'm going along with your crazy idea, and now you're telling me we have to do it already? I was hoping for some time for ourselves, to get reacquainted...

- I'm not saying I'm going to get pregnant this month, that's not the way it works. It can happen how, or it can take months. So we have to start trying, and we shouldn't waste any chances.

- Fine, let's do it your way.

- Tomorrow then. It's Friday, which means we can wake up late in the morning. That is, unless your team gets a case or my mobile phone starts ranging like crazy.

- You know how it is. But let's hope it doesn't happen. But hang on… we are going to try tomorrow and then wait for a month?

- No, Jethro. But in these days I'm more likely to conceive. So, should I pay you a visit or will you be coming at my house after work?

- I don't know… whatever you think is best.

- Then come to my place, if you don't mind. One night in your basement was more than enough.

- I have a bed, you know. But yes, yours is cosier. But…

- What?

- Your detail is going to see me coming in, and not getting out for hours later.

- I don't care about my detail.

- You cared a month ago.

- I don't anymore.

- Fine, no need to get edgy.

- I'm not edgy. So, I'll try hard not to leave too late. Let's pray we don't get a sudden crisis. Please try to do the same. I'll get something for dinner, so there's no need to bring take-away.

- You've got it all worked out. Ok then, I'll… show up right after work - her minute planning was almost exasperating.

- Very well then. See you tomorrow, Jethro.

This was turning too formal for his taste – What a lame goodbye, Jenny…

She looked at him, surprised at first, but then she nodded. She got up from her chair and went towards him. He got up as well. Her hands rested on his chest in a tender embrace. Relieved, he held her tight, planting a chaste kiss on her forehead – That's better.

- I suppose I'm just not used to us being… what are we, anyway? Lovers, again?

- Call it whatever you like, I don't really care about names.

- Neither do I – she kissed him lightly on the lips – See you tomorrow.

- Now that's much better.

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