Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
A.N.: Well this chapter is three times as long as what I usually submit, so I decided to give it to you a day early. My uncle's funeral was today so I just need to cheer myself up. Hopefully this will cheer you up too. Thank you everyone who reads this story and especially those who review it, favourite and alert it, you make my day!
Gibbs stood on his doorstep, watching the deserted street for any sign of the cars that he knew were on their way. Tony had called him, telling him something terrible had happened to Abby. His stomach clenched again as that ominous statement revolved around his head, his years of being a field Agent supplying images of all the terrible things that could have happened to her. He should have made her come with him when he had taken McGee home, he shouldn't have taken no for an answer! He stood at the end of his driveway and alternated between wringing his hands and curling them into fists. Why couldn't they have just said what had happened to her? He wouldn't be needlessly torturing himself with hellish images then; I mean how much trouble could Abby get in to, really? His stomach clenched and he couldn't help but recall that the victims are usually only guilty of being too trusting, anything could have happened and who knew what state she would be in when she got here. He was saved from worrying any further by the screech of brakes as Ziva's mini pulled, well skidded, around the corner and raced up towards his drive. Tony's car appeared a few seconds later, with Ducky's Morgan a few minutes later, actually abiding by the traffic laws. Gibbs had never been so glad that Ziva was the worst driver on the face of the planet, she was the fastest and that was all that mattered.
Ziva jumped out of her car the moment the engine died and ran over to Tony's car, helping him to pull a shaky Abby out of the back seat, and then they wrapped their arms around her. That was when Gibbs noticed Abby wasn't shaky, she was unconscious! He dropped the pretence of being calm and collected and dashed over to them, pulling Abby up into his arms so he could carry her inside. He felt something wet on her and looked at her more closely, his heart almost stopping when he recognised not only the sight, but the horrible metallic smell too. Abby was covered in blood.
"What the hell happened?!" he glared wide eyed at his two top Agents, his voice as near to terrified as it would ever get, and they gazed back, not in fear as they would usually, but in understanding and guilt.
"We tried to arrest the bar tender but he saw us coming and ran out of the pub. We ran after him and caught him around the back. Abby followed us but went in the wrong direction." Ziva exchanged a look with Tony and then looked over to where Ducky was parking. "We followed her screams and a gunshot to an alley and found her there with a dead man. We… we think he was shot because he was trying to… rape her." Gibbs pulled Abby closer to his chest protectively, not really able to grasp that someone had tried to do that to the young girl he thought of as a daughter.
"Who shot him?" Ziva ducked her head and then made her decision. She didn't want to reveal Jenny's involvement to Gibbs, but he would find out anyway. She would tell him later.
"We should get her inside; I will tell you what I found at the scene when you are both comfortable." Gibbs turned on his heel and marched up to his front door, Tony running to get the door open for him before he could reach it. Ziva waited for Ducky's approach and then they turned to follow Gibbs inside.
"What are you going to tell him?" Ducky asked quietly, and Ziva sighed.
"I am unsure. I would like to know what is in that syringe first. Would you join me at NCIS to test it?" she looked at Ducky and he smiled reassuringly in response.
"Of course my dear, although I'm not quite sure what you expect to find." He was being careful, not wanting both Jethro and Ziva to get their hopes up about finding Jenny whole and just how they remember her. If anything, this case was making it very clear that she wasn't acting as she normally would. He would relish the chance to speak to her first, just so he could warn the others about her state of mind if she was not herself.
"Hopefully something that will make all of this much clearer." Ducky raised an eyebrow but said nothing further as they entered the house.
--
"I never should have left her with you; I should have brought her home!" Gibbs said angrily, barging past Tony and walking over to the stairs at the end of the hall. Tony shook his head, knowing that Gibbs wasn't blaming him and Ziva, he was blaming himself.
"There was no way to know a rapist would be around this night, in those alleyways. Besides, he's dead now, where as any other woman he found would more than likely have been defiled and then left where he assaulted them, so he could find another victim. He can't hurt anyone else now, so something good came out of it." Gibbs grunted, not refuting his words, but not agreeing either.
Gibbs carried Abby all the way up the stairs to his bedroom, placing her carefully on the bed and then looking around for anything that would be fit for her to wear. Tony walked in behind him, whistling at the uninhabited look of the room.
"Maybe we should've given the place a bit of a dusting down first." He tried to bring a little humour to the situation but a glare from Gibbs quieted him immediately. They both realised at the same time that Abby would not want to wake up covered in blood, and they both also realised that neither of them was willing to bathe her. Tony just clicked his fingers and then called for Ziva and Ducky. A woman and a doctor, probably the only two people she would be comfortable with in that situation. "Ziva? Ducky? A little help, please?"
--
Jenny backed away from the stairs as quietly as she could and reached for her gun, pulling it out of her pocket. They seemed to be going upstairs, but she wasn't taking any chances. She looked around the room for a hiding place, but the only thing big enough to hide in was the boat. If he looked in there she would be trapped with no other exit. She rounded the boat and decided that she would just try and stay on the opposite side to the one he was on, although if any of his friends came down with him she might be out of luck. The fact she only had two bullets weighed heavily on her mind, and she wasn't sure that she would make it out if it came to a fight. She wasn't strong enough to fight off an opponent in hand to hand combat either, so her gun was her only asset.
"Ziva? Ducky? A little help, please?" a loud voice echoed down to her and she almost sighed in relief. They would all be going upstairs; she would get the chance to escape! She walked towards the stairs again, and then climbed up halfway, ready to seize her chance. Ziva, that name was familiar, hadn't she said that in one of her memories? Yes, it was the Israeli, the Hamas terrorist… or was she really a Mossad operative? Jenny squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to focus on the only memory she had that could possibly tell her more about the woman. She remembered the greeting; it was a friendly gesture to kiss each others cheeks, yet quite formal. They seemed to be good friends so why would Ziva be uncomfortable around her? Had something happened to unbalance their friendship? She concentrated harder and suddenly recalled what her title was; Director. Yes… so she had been promoted. She wasn't Ziva's partner anymore; she was her superior, which put her on edge, but why? What decision was it that she could make that would hurt Ziva?
The footsteps of Ziva and Ducky receded up the stairs and Jenny carefully ascended the wooden basement steps, abandoning her efforts to remember more in favour of escaping. She reached the top and held out her hand to push the door open. She paused before she did so, and that was when she heard a quiet shuffling, almost like someone was trying to sneak up on her. Jenny froze for a moment and then darted back down the stairs as quickly and quietly as she could, hiding around the side of the boat just in time, as the door to the basement opened and a man looked in, scanning the room for anything out of the ordinary. She only allowed herself one look before hiding completely and relying on her hearing. It was the silver haired man, he scanned the room slowly, taking in everything about it before turning around and closing the door. He didn't move away from it though and Jenny's breathing became ragged. He must know someone is here, she thought, there is no other reason for him to suddenly be so concerned about keeping certain doors in check. She had been discovered, or at least soon would be. She pulled the safety off of her gun and readied it to fire, the dull click hopefully muffled from his senses by the door and the size of the room.
--
Gibbs watched as Ziva and Ducky entered the room and then he motioned to Tony, telling him to leave with him. The two walked out of the bedroom and then down the stairs, Tony walking into the kitchen and leaving Gibbs to brood. He couldn't believe this had happened, or nearly happened, to Abby. She was such an innocent, who could do such a monstrous thing to her? He put his head in his hands and took a deep steadying breath… and that was when he smelt it: Perfume. It was the aroma he had picked up off of the glass that Cynthia had kept sealed in a bag, Jenny's scent. He looked up sharply, his arms returned to his sides and he turned his head quickly, looking for her in the house. She couldn't have come in without being noticed by Ziva or Ducky, so she must have been in for a while. The fact that he could still smell her said that she hadn't been in long though. So she must have entered his house before he came out of his basement. He cursed under his breath, he had thought he could hear something, but his mind had been focussed on Tony's voice telling him about Abby. He should have listened to his instincts when he had been about to open the door, when he had felt eyes on him but had just attributed it to his nervousness over Abby's condition.
Jethro knew that if Tony walked in right now, he would think he was mad, but he didn't care. He sniffed the air, trying to pinpoint where the scent originated. He crept to the front door and sure enough, he could only just pick it up there. He turned and followed it to the kitchen, careful not to disturb DiNozzo, and then bent lower, sneaking over to the door to the basement. That was where she was, he was certain of it. He stalked closer and then his suspicions became more solid; he heard soft footsteps retreat further into his basement. She must have been about to come out. Gibbs pulled out his gun and reached out to the door, slowly pushing it open and poking his head in, scanning the room carefully, looking for any sign that she really was there, that he wasn't actually going mad. He found it.
The box under his work bench had been moved, the lid was half off and he could just see the red and blue of the shirt Jenny had been shot in, peeking out. Oh she was in there, and there was only one place to hide. His boat was the only thing that provided any cover down there. She was trapped and she knew it. He smiled grimly and then stepped back out of the basement, pulling the door closed behind him. There was no way she was getting past him until they'd had a little talk. He turned away from the door and looked around, catching the worried-for-his-sanity look that was crossing DiNozzo's face. Tony grinned as he realised he had been caught and then shrugged, keeping his head away from his boss.
"You ok, boss?"
"Just fine DiNozzo. Why don't you take Ziva and Ducky back to NCIS? Get that son of a bitch's body processed as soon as possible."
"Alright." Tony wasn't as stupid as he sometimes made out though, and his eyes strayed to the closed basement door and the gun in his hand, before he walked up the stairs to collect Ziva and Ducky. Gibbs let out a breath, proud that Tony had noticed something was wrong, but worried that they could all be used against him if Jenny had back up. So what was he to do with Abby? They couldn't move her, she would want a safe place to wake up in and he wanted that place to be here. Alright, it was a selfish notion, but she was as close to a daughter as he would ever get now. He wanted to look after her. He would just make sure Jenny didn't know she was here, so she couldn't threaten her life. Just then, he heard a click from in his basement; it was a sound he knew well, the sound of a gun cocking. He was reminded of cornering a wild animal. Once they see they are trapped, they fight for their lives. Jenny must have realised he knew she was there and she felt threatened. If he had needed anymore proof she wasn't the woman he loved, this was it. Tony, Ducky and Ziva appeared a few moments later, their stuff ready as they prepared to go back to work. Ziva and Ducky in particular seemed eager to return to NCIS, so he didn't keep them any longer.
"Well, thank you for bringing her here, make sure you get that guy written up for his crime. He might be dead, but a lot of women could have been hurt by him. With him dead and his crimes revealed, they may be more inclined to report what has happened to them." Ducky smiled at him, he would have done so anyway, but Jethro was just showing them how much this had hurt him, so the team would know he cared about them all without actually saying it. He sighed; Jethro was quite a complicated man.
"Yes boss." Tony and Ziva said at the same time and he nodded to them, watching them all file out of his house.
Jethro took a deep breath and then slowly opened the door to the basement, stepping in and keeping his gun at the ready. He had left his light on, so he could see most of the room, the shadows cast by his boat being the longest and darkest. He closed the door behind him and carefully made his way down the stairs, his gun trained on the boat, waiting to see if she would seize the initiative and fire at him while he wasn't in cover. He made it to the bottom of the stairs and she still hadn't fired or revealed herself. Probably hoping I will think I was mistaken about an intruder, not going to happen Jenny. He stopped at the foot of the stairs and leaned casually on the banister, listening for her breathing. His eyesight might be going, but his hearing was exceptional. There… he could just make out her rapid panting. He didn't think she been doing any exercise down here, so that meant she was panicking. Jethro smiled slightly, she was well aware of how easily he could kill; he had been a marine sniper, he had been to war and he had almost fifteen years of experience as a field agent under his belt. She was right to be scared, it just didn't seem in character to him. She had faced down four gun men armed with automatic weapons at that diner, she hadn't been so scared then, he just knew it. So why was she now? She just hasn't ever been on the opposite side before. He gritted his teeth for a moment and tried to reign in his anger at the woman he had once trusted with his life, the same woman who had been attacking his surrogate family, the family she had been the mother figure for. Wishing you was still on my side, Jen?
"Come on out."
--
Jenny tried to stop her hand shaking, but it was proving to be very difficult, since the rest of her was shaking too. She was frightened and the thought of being as vulnerable as she was just scared her more, especially since she now knew Trent had lied to her about everything. She wasn't an Assassin; she was some sort of politician bureaucrat that has probably never seen a gun before, until she was shot. A sense of hopelessness gripped her and she felt her hand start to shake more. Why bother with this? She was obviously doing more harm than good; she had been shooting at innocent people. They were lucky she was such a bad shot, or she could have actually hurt someone. She almost scoffed, but managed to keep it to just a hitch in her breathing, why should she carry on hiding? It wasn't like she'd hit him if she did shoot at him. She heard the guy stop coming down the stairs and then something gave a rather wooden groan. He must have sat on a wood chair or something; she risked a glance around the boat, but stopped herself before she actually looked further than was necessary to see his shadow on the floor. He wasn't sitting, he was leaning. What was he waiting for? She only had two bullets and her run of luck said she would miss him with both. If he walked around the boat and grabbed her, she knew she wouldn't be able to throw him off like she could with Gregory, and her bullet wounds, plus the fact she had run here from the alley where her daughter had been attacked, would make her the slowest of the two if she ran for it. She was well and truly trapped; she may as well give up now.
Jenny took a deep breath and attempted to stop herself from thinking for a moment. Her pessimistic thoughts were just making her worse and she was beginning to feel light headed from breathing so rapidly. She must be close to hyperventilating. She grinned suddenly at the ridiculous image of fainting before either of them even got a good look at each other. Trent would be so disappointed. She almost gave in to the impulse to do it, just to piss him off but she was brought up short by the man's voice.
"Come on out."
Her breathing stopped for a moment and a sudden swarm of butterflies took flight in her stomach. She pulled her gun back up and took a deep breath, this time trying to hold it so she could actually put up a brave front. Then she rounded the boat, her gun raised at him, his at her. Jenny's eyes widened slightly in recognition, it was the blue eyed man from her memories! The one she had killed those sentries with, the one she had made love with, the one she had spoken of children with. The one Trent was most desperate to have killed. He cleared his throat and she realised that she had been gazing at him for quite a while. She felt a blush rise on her cheeks and gripped her gun more firmly. The man had a name, she was sure that his voice was the same as the one she remembered. 'I'm not my Director's keeper, Tobias.' The man, Tobias, had called him Jethro, hadn't he?
"You're Jethro?" she asked, her gaze never wavering from his face. He narrowed his eyes at her and he looked momentarily confused, but he quickly erased the emotion from his face, so she wasn't sure if she had just imagined it. Her eyes darted up to the exit and then back to him, her other hand clenching and unclenching by her side, the only indication of her terror. He was very self assured; he hadn't straightened his posture or looked at her like she was even a threat to him.
"And you are?" he asked, demanding an answer by shifting his weight slightly. Before she was aware of it, she had taken a few steps back from him, almost sure he was about to pounce on her. He raised an eyebrow at her edginess, but said nothing.
"Jenny Ko- er, just Jenny." she shot a glance at the box under the work bench, thinking about how alien the name Shepard was to her, but no longer willing to call herself Kort. Jethro seemed to pick up on her slip however and his eyes seemed to follow her every move, which was very unsettling.
"Kort? Jenny Kort?" he seemed incredulous and for a moment she flared with indignation. How dare he say her name like it was repulsive to him! Just who did he think he was? "So Trent is your husband then?"
"Ugh no, that's just disgusting. I'm his sister." Was that relief in his eyes?
"Right, well Jenny, do you want to tell me why you have been shooting at my team?" She averted her eyes guiltily, shame over her actions flooding her body and causing her to blush. Stop, her mind told her, you have just as much right to answers as he does. Don't let him get under your skin, you need to stand firm. She nodded to herself and pushed her guilt away, wrapping her anger around herself as a shield and stared him straight in the eye, raising an eyebrow as she posed her own question. One that was the most important to her, the reason she was even in a position to be lied to by Trent.
"That depends. Do you want to tell me why you and your team shot me and left me for dead?" she needed to know why she had four wounds in her body, impairing her ability to move until her muscles fully heal and they became four large white scars.
--
Gibbs stared at Jenny in disbelief. She thought he had shot her? She thought they had left her to die in LA? He said nothing for a moment as he attempted to find his voice and reorder his thoughts. This was not what he was expecting when he finally caught up with her. He had thought she had just gone rogue, taken exception to him and his team and decided to take them out, maybe in revenge. Never, not even in his wildest dreams, would he have thought she blamed them for her shooting, believing them to have pulled the trigger. One thing was obvious; she was confused. He needed to tread carefully, or she would attack and he may have to shoot her in self defence. If she survived that, there would be no way she would believe he hadn't shot her before as well. He needed to keep her calm but he desperately wanted answers.
"You answer my question and I will answer yours. Fair?" she inclined her head, but they didn't lower their guns. He watched her mull over her answer, her eyes once again flickering towards the exit.
"Trent gave me pictures of you and your team, he told me you are terrorists and that it was my job to kill you." Trent eh? So he had been successful in making her believe him to be her brother. Terrorists though?
"I didn't shoot you; none of my team did either. You were shot by Russian hit men hired by a woman named Svetlana Chernitskaya." Her expression remained blank.
"I don't know that name. Who is she?" he smirked at her and waggled his gun at her.
"It's my turn to ask the question." She glared at him but gestured for him to proceed. "Why did you need pictures of us when you know us?"
"I don't know you. Trent said I have amnesia; he gives me a drug to help my brain recover. I think." Think? What does that mean? He felt his heart rate speed up as he found a way to break her trust in the two faced CIA Agent.
"You think?" This time Jenny waggled her gun at him.
"Nuh uh uh, my turn." He rolled his eyes. "Who is this Svetlana?"
"She was your target in 1999 when we were on a mission in Paris. You didn't kill her then, which allowed her to come back last year and hire the hit men needed to kill you and the other member of our team; William Decker. So, you think what?"
"I have flashes of memory, but I only seem to get them when I don't take my medicine. I'm not sure what to make of that." She looked away, momentarily distracted by her thoughts. "Why does Trent want you dead?"
"I don't know, maybe because I was close to you, or because we muscled in on Lodestone. Where does your memory stop and what have you remembered?"
"Technically that's two, so I get two. I don't remember anything. I woke up and didn't even know my name. Trent was there, he said he was my brother and he would help me. As for what I have remembered…" she blushed furiously, some of her memories were about him after all. What if she hadn't actually slept with him? What if it had just been a remembered fantasy? "I remember talking to Trent in a car with you and another man. I remember greeting a woman called Ziva in a large squad room. I remember talking to you in a large house about kids. Talking to Tim about something called Grenouille… and… running with you in a dark city." She wasn't going to tell him about her other memory of him, she didn't think her cheeks would ever lose the blood pooling in them. At least he couldn't see it.
"You remembered us making love, didn't you Jenny?" she opened her mouth to refute it, the words seeming eerily familiar, but realised that she didn't need to answer. He had asked a question out of turn. She knew what she wanted to know now though.
"Do I have a daughter? I don't remember anything about her." his eyes registered his surprise at her question and she felt her heart drop.
"No, you don't." Those words were painful to hear. She hadn't realised how much she had enjoyed the thought of having a daughter until now, when it was being torn away from her.
"But the black haired girl… I was in the alley, I shot the guy attacking her and she called me 'Mommy'. Why would she do that if I'm not her mother?" she asked desperately, hoping he would reconsider his answer, even though she knew he wouldn't, couldn't even.
"Abby calls you that because she considered us to be the parents of her surrogate family. 'Mommy and daddy of NCIS'." Abby, the girl she had saved, had repaid her with emotional torture. She felt tears spring to her eyes and she blinked them back, trying to keep a lid on her distress.
"Do I have any family?" she stressed the word and heard her voice nearly crack, as her misery seemed to take over every fibre of her being. Jethro watched her struggle with kind eyes, but she didn't want his pity. She wanted her daughter, or the feeling of having a daughter, but she didn't want it to be a lie, she wasn't sure she could go through this if all of her hopes were going to be shattered.
"No, just NCIS and the team." She exhaled heavily and shook her head.
"Why? What happened to them? My parents, brothers, sisters, boyfriends?" Jethro realised their question game had been well and truly abandoned. She was distraught and he wasn't sure how much time he had to salvage the conversation before she fired.
"Jen, please calm down. Your mother died when you were quite young and as far as I know you are an only child. Your father died in '92, the official verdict was suicide, but you staunchly believed he was murdered by Rene Benoit, or 'La Grenouille', an international arms dealer." He sensed the chance to have an answer to a question that had been burning in his own mind for a while, and forged ahead, hoping he was being subtle enough so she wouldn't flip and try to kill him. "Benoit was killed in the same way as your father, and your old boyfriend Todd Gelfand was found dead just three weeks ago with the same wound. Your gun was used on Benoit, would you know anything about that?"
"No." she whispered.
"Trent Kort is not even his real name, you know, it's an alias. He is a CIA Agent, who was undercover as one of Benoit's more trusted friends. You are not related at all. He is lying to you."
Jenny wasn't listening; she hadn't been for a while. She had been in a memory, her whispered words in response to what she was seeing, rather than what he had asked her.
She was walking up the driveway, towards a large house, her house. She unlocked the door when she reached it and then walked into the study, letting her father know she was home from work. She pushed the door open and saw him slouched in the chair, looking for all the world as if he was asleep. She decided not to disturb him and smiled a little at her workaholic father. She nearly pulled the door closed and left, but it was in that instant she saw the blood on the carpet, pooling by the chair where he was sitting. Then everything else came in to focus and she walked further in to the room, almost in a daze. The blood splatters on the window, wall, desk and carpet, the hole in the wall by the drinks cabinet and the pale white of her father's skin. She ran towards the body and reached out to him, only to pull her hand back as the holes in his head came in to view, the blood and brain matter running down his head and neck.
"No!" she whispered, horror clutching her heart and paralysing her voice, making her unable to say anything else. She shook her head and tears ran down her face unchecked. It wasn't possible, her father wouldn't do that! He wasn't depressed; he had made plans with her for the week while he had leave. It just didn't make sense. She looked around for a gun and saw one in his right hand, hanging limply from his fingers. It was his gun, she was sure of it, but her father would never commit suicide. She was about to turn away, her tears blurring her vision, but she caught sight of a dark bruise on his hand and looked closer. That had not been there when she had left a few hours ago. How could he have done that to himself? She pressed a hand to her mouth and fled the room. Her father had been murdered, she was sure of it, and she would bring the person that did it to justice, no matter what it took.
She walked out of the house and found herself on a boat, floating in a marina, the darkness closing in around her. She had come for a reason; tonight she would avenge her father's murder by killing the man who had shot him. She readied her gun and walked in to the light which flooded the deck, keeping her weapon behind her back. Benoit would more than likely know why she was here, so there was no point in discretion, but she had downed a few glasses of the hard stuff before coming, so it seemed like a good idea. It was almost funny, her coming to kill the guy on his boat after he had fled from her study an hour before. No one knew where she was and there was no one to protect him from her. She smiled and looked for him, catching sight of him just across from her, glass of sauvignon in hand, watching her every move like he knew what was coming and was ready for it.
"I knew you would follow me Jenny, though I had hoped you would not do so armed." He swirled his glass and finished it, placing it on the deck by his foot and then straightening to face her. "You are being misled; I did not kill your father."
"Liar." She spat, pulling her gun from behind her back and pointing it at him, her gun arm surprisingly steady.
"Non, I am not lying to you. I know you will never believe me, and my life is not really worth saving after all of the lives my trade has taken, so I will not beg for it." She crossed the distance between them slowly, stalking her prey, careful not to lose her footing in her not-exactly-sober state.
"Do you know what it feels like to come home and find the only family you have ever had dead? To see his blood running down his face? To have to scrub the carpets to get his brain matter out of it? Do you?" she could feel the tears on her cheeks but she ignored them. He wasn't going to get away now, not again. He sighed and shook his head sadly.
"I am sorry for what you have suffered, but it was not by my hand or order. Your father was a good friend to me; his only failing in our trade was his conscience. You. I never understood why he would give up all of the wealth for family, but I do now. I would give it all up, take back all of the lives for one more day with Jeanne, but I know it cannot be. I have accepted my fate, have you accepted the consequences?" he stared at her, waiting for her judgement. He knew he was going to die tonight, and his regrets caught up with him, manifesting in his expression as sorrow.
Jenny walked forward and gripped his hand, making sure she bruised the flesh, just as her father's hand had been marked and watched the pain filter across his face. His body froze and she brought her gun to his head, the moment she had been waiting twelve years for finally here. She looked back over everything she had done to get to this moment, joining NCIS, meeting Jethro, meeting Ziva, manoeuvring her team, suffering set back after set back, putting Tony in Jeanne's life and the missed opportunity in her study an hour ago. Now was the time for retribution against his crimes. She had her gun to his head and he was completely defenceless. And she couldn't do it. She still couldn't kill him.
Her tears blurred her vision and she stepped away, her gun arm dropping limply by her side, the safety clicking on. The look on Jethro's face when he had asked her if she would have killed him haunted her already, his opinion of her meaning more to her than Benoit's death. What was she doing? She had deceived her Agents, risked Tony's life and destroyed a young girl's trust in love, a young girl who she had been more than prepared to put in the same position as her, and for what? What was killing him really going to give her, peace of mind? She was already seeing the disapproving glances from the team, the disgust from Jethro and the loss of respect from everyone else. She dropped his hand and he looked at her, slightly confused, but cautiously grateful. She looked at him for a moment then turned around and walked away, pausing long enough to leave the gun on the deck, and then she walked back to her car so she could go home.
Jenny's vision cleared and she found herself sobbing on the ground, Jethro's arms around her, her head on his shoulder, her hands curled in the material of his jacket, his hands stroking her back soothingly. Her gun was no longer in her hand; it must have been taken by Jethro while she had been remembering. He was hushing her softly and, judging by the wetness of his clothes, she had been crying for a while. She hiccupped a little and sniffed, trying to get her bearings. She now knew she hadn't killed Benoit, but who else would have wanted to? No one would believe she didn't do it, even Jethro thought she had, and he was supposed to be the one that knew her best.
"It's ok Jen, I've been there myself, remember? I know how confusing it is." What was he talking about?
"Have you… lost… your memory?" she ground out between sobs, trying to erase the images of her father's dead body, his blood and grey tissue sprayed around the room.
"Yeah, though I only lost fifteen years." She pulled her head back to look at him, surprised, holding her breath in an attempt to stop crying. It didn't work; it just caused an explosion of tears and gasping breaths, making Jethro draw her back into his embrace. She went willingly and squeezed her eyes shut, relief to have someone around who knew what she was going through giving her an intense dose of calm. He spoke to her while she tried to compose herself. "I woke up in hospital, didn't know the people around me. My last memory was of losing my first wife and daughter. They were killed while I was in Desert Storm. Ducky came to see me, you did too; I didn't recognise either of you. It hurt those closest to me, but I couldn't help that. I just wanted my family with me, not these new people. I have no idea what drug Trent is giving you, but I never got anything like that. As far as I know, there is no drug to help with remembering things." He said the last part gently, almost like he expected her to attack him for even thinking Trent wasn't helping her. Well she already knew that. She wanted to know something different though.
"Is Benoit's death still an open case?" she asked, her voice slightly muffled by his shirt. She felt him shake his head.
"No. Kort came to NCIS and produced an order from the CIA that one of their assets was to be legally killed." She nodded, sure that she was jumping to the right conclusion.
"What about Todd?" Jethro's hand stilled on her back for only a second, but she noticed. Jenny opened her eyes and looked around the basement while her movements went unobserved, trying to locate her gun. She had no desire to hurt Jethro, she couldn't even fathom it now, but she did want to hurt someone else, and for that she would need her weapon.
"Yeah, that's still open. Same style as Benoit's death." He was carefully avoiding talking about her father's death, aware of how touchy the subject was, even back when she had her memory. Jenny nodded against his shirt and rubbed her face against his collar tenderly, enjoying the sensation of being in his arms. She was going to have to leave now, and she knew he wouldn't let her go. So she had to distract him. She pulled her head back once more and let her eyes trace his features, her hands letting go of his jacket to creep up his chest, so she could cup his face.
"Jethro, I think…" she couldn't lie to him, she didn't want him to resent her, her feelings for him were too strong to play with, so she decided to distract him with the truth. "I think… I'm in love with you." She gazed into his eyes and then pulled him to her for a kiss. She ignored the voice in her head telling her she could have left without doing this, and that she was just stalling so she could kiss him. She tried to concentrate on the task at hand, but the feel of his lips was very distracting. Was her plan going to back fire? His kiss left her breathless and she finally pulled away, needing air as much as he did. She jumped up out of his arms as soon as she released his lips and pointed his own gun at him, while she backed quickly towards the stairs and then up them. His wounded eyes followed her movements, his anger at being used flashing in his eyes and she knew she couldn't leave like this. When she reached the top, she pulled the door open and then spoke to him. "I have something I must do, please don't hate me." She then ran out of the door, down the hall and out of his house.
She had to find Kort and pay him back for all of the lies. Not only that, but she was going to kill him for the murder of her father, Benoit and her old boyfriend Todd, whom she still didn't remember. She set off quickly for the safe house, not looking behind her, just in case Jethro called her back, because she would go, and then everyone would suffer. Trent wouldn't just accept that she wasn't going to kill them, he would do it himself.
It took a while to reach the safe house, but she made good time since she ran some of the way. The house was dark though, and she cautiously approached, wondering where he would be, since he had been entertaining Gregory and the strange man in the expensive suit when she had left. She pulled out Jethro's gun and walked up to the front door, unlocking it with her key and carefully slipping inside, closing the door behind her. The house was quiet and none of the lights were on at all, not even the kitchen light, which Gregory usually left on for his night time hot chocolate. Jenny slowly approached the living room, where the men had taken their evening and opened the door, checking the room warily for Trent, her mind conjuring the image of him laying in wait for her in every shadow. She stopped to listen and then froze as she heard low, laboured breathing from inside the room. She moved along the wall and searched for the light switch, hoping he would be blinded by the light just as much, if not more so, than her. She flicked the switch and then dived down behind a chair, her gun at the ready, senses straining to hear any change in the room.
"J-Jen… ny… Jen…" Gregory's voice croaked from the other side of the room, choked with pain.
Jenny put her head around the chair and cast a look around the room, before moving towards the sound. She saw nothing until she approached the coffee table by the fire place. There were three glasses of alcohol on it, two were untouched, but the third was almost empty, which was odd. Then she saw him. Her breath caught as she looked upon Gregory lying in a pool of blood, face down on the rug in front of the fire, his face pale and his skin clammy. He was breathing slowly and he seemed lethargic, his eyes open and unfocussed. She bent down and touched his shoulder, fear and sadness gripping her as she watched the last moments of the only friend she had known in this strange new life.
"Greg? What happened?" his eyes focussed on her face and his terror almost made her cry. He knew he was dying, and that there was nothing she could do.
"Trent… Trent lies…Sec-Nav… partner." He reached out his hand and held hers, his grip tightening until it was almost vicelike on her hand. "Tell Du-… tell Ducky…" he closed his eyes and a few tears leaked from under his eyelids, running off of his face on to the rug. "Sorry… s-so sorry…" his grip became impossibly harder until Jenny thought her fingers were going to break, and then suddenly his hand fell from hers, his eyes no longer seeing anything and his last breath rushing out in a long drawn out sigh.
