"Jen? Jenny?" Gibbs called, rushing in the door, removing his jacket as he went. He saw the light at the basement door and tore down the stairs, stopping short at the sight of her curled up on the couch. She looked fragile and broken and so incredibly young and vulnerable.
She was on her feet in a instant and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, so thankful that she was here, that he could finally see for himself that she was okay. But when he pulled back from the hug to kiss her, he realized that his Jenny was far, far away from okay.
"Oh Jen," he whispered softly, tracing his fingers delicately over the bruise around her eye, running his thumb over her cracked lips. "Honey, are there more?"
Jenny looked uncomfortable and moved back from him several inches. "A few," she shrugged, not meeting his eyes.
"Jen, I am so sorry," her husband apologized, breaking his rules, filled with guilt and pain over what had happened to her, and burning with anger against the guy who'd done it. "If only I'd walked you to your car. Abby would've forgiven me this once." He knew by looking at her that it would take much to repair the damage done to his precious wife.
Jethro had learned much more than he wanted to know while he'd been interrogating the monster who relished violating women. Now he was going to wait and see what she told him, before taking a guess at anything. More than anything Gibbs wished he'd let Ziva take a crack at the miserable dirtbag before sending him to be locked up. One witness testimony was evidence enough, three was even better. He didn't want Jenny to have to face him again.
"Come here Jen," he said softly, wanting to hold her until that haunted look left her eyes. Jenny stepped back into his arms slowly, hesitantly and Gibbs wanted to kill the man who had made her afraid. Hoping to soothe her, Gibbs ran a hand up and down her back in a continuous motion, using his other arm to keep her tucked into his shoulder.
Jenny stiffened in Jethro's arms and couldn't stop the memories of another man's hands, his touch most unwelcome, running down her body, touching places only her husband's hands had right to be. It disgusted her and she closed her eyes, wanting to throw up.
"Jen?" her husband's hand cupped her face, his eyes searching hers, worry written all over his face.
She covered his hand with hers and tried to keep the tears at bay. "I'm sorry Jethro I-," she swallowed. "Please don't touch me."
It killed her to say that and move out of his embrace, because she wanted more than anything for him to make her feel safe again. But nothing was right, not tonight.
Gibbs couldn't bear the pain and unshed tears in Jenny's eyes. He needed to be strong for her right now, even if that meant going against all the walls her protective instincts were throwing up at the moment. He set his hands on her upper arms, hating what he was about to ask. In many ways he didn't want to know what kind of hell she'd lived through over the last two days, but if they were going to get through this together, some things she was going to have to share, whether she wanted to or not.
"Why Jen? Why can't I touch you?" He fixed his eyes on her, a gentle version of the Gibbs Stare, designed to elicit information.
Jen looked to the side, trying to focus on anything except her husband's face. "Jethro," she began, only to be cut off.
"Jen please, you need to tell me. Why?"
Jen threw her hands up in frustration. "Because!" she yelled, pushing him away. "When you touch me all I can see is his hands all over me, places they weren't supposed to be!"
"Aw, Jen..." her husband began.
"Don't you 'aw Jen' me Jethro! You have no idea what this has been like, you can't! First, you have never been a women. Second, I know you would never deliberately hurt one." She looked up at him - how to make him understand? "I'm tired and I'm hurt and I'm afraid and I just want someone to fix it, to make all these awful images in my head go away."
Finally. He hated goading her but he'd needed her to get upset enough to speak without censoring her words. Now his heart hurt for her but this was one thing a hug just couldn't fix, no matter what the intentions.
Jethro leaned forward and kissed his wife's forehead. "I'm not going anywhere Jen," he her hand, he replaced the gun on it's shelf and led her towards the stairs. "Come on babe, let's go somewhere more comfortable than the basement."
Jenny obeyed and willingly followed her husband. She stopped in the doorway of the bedroom, her eyes drawn to the bed they so often shared. If only she could focus and hold onto the memories of the good things that had happened there, so she wouldn't think about the last bed she was on.
Jethro tugged on her hand, encouraging her inside. Once she was settled in the middle of the bed, he disappeared into the bathroom, only to reappear a moment later with one toiletry item he had no need of - a hairbrush. Without saying anything, Gibbs nudged his wife forward a bit and slid in behind her, his legs stretched out on either side of her crossed ones. She tensed, just feeling him against her, but then she felt the gentle pull as he began to work through her tangled, below shoulder length, red hair.
Relaxing, Jenny leaned her head forward to make it easier. He often brushed her hair at night and she loved the feel of his fingers running through her hair, of the brush smoothing tangles and curls. One might be surprised at how intimate a simple gesture like brushing a woman's hair can be. Some nights it was all she could do to hold still as his fingers grazed her shoulder or he occasionally planted a row of kisses on her neck. She shivered just thinking about it. Right now the act of loving her husband only brought revulsion and fear. Tonight though, his touch had nothing to do with eliciting passion and everything to do with being gentle and helping her calm down.
After several moments Gibbs leaned forward and put his chin on her shoulders. "Hey," he whispered, "did I ever tell you how much I love red hair?"
Jenny gave a little laugh and leaned back into him. "Yes Jethro, I do think you've mentioned it once or twice. But thank you," she whispered.
He continued working down her hair, brushing out every tangle and snarl until it was smooth as silk. Then he coaxed her into taking a hot shower. Jenny protested at first, unwilling to shed her comfy clothes and be naked again. But Gibbs insisted that she would feel better after. Much to her discomfort, her husband followed her into the bathroom, turning on the shower and helping her undress.
"I can undress myself, you know," she informed him as he pulled the hoody off. When he reached for her tshirt she stilled his hands. "No."
"Why not?"
Jenny looked down. "You may not like what you see," she mumbled.
Nodding, Gibbs braced himself, feeling a jolt when he saw the marks on his wife's body. She stepped out of her sweatpants to reveal more of the same, feeling exposed and vulnerable in just her bra and panties. Gibbs took in the red marks and bruises, the inflamed area of her inner thighs, the pain that crossed her face as he looked. Steppping closer, he lifted first one hand and then the other and kissed her bruised and rope-burned wrists.
Wrapping his arm around her waist he whispered, "You are beautiful to me."
While Jenny stood under the hottest stream of water she could take, Gibbs went through her drawers and found a pair of long sleeved pyjamas. He has a feeling she would not want to see any lingerie for awhile.
Wrapped in a towel, her hair dripping, Jenny took a deep breath. Not okay, but better. She was home now, she was safe and soon she would be sleeping beside a man who loved her very much and knew her every bit.
Gibbs re-entered the bathroom with her pyjamas and new underthings. He picked up an extra towel and rubbed some of the moisture out of her hair. Pushing it aside, he kissed her neck and left so she could change.
I do not deserve this, she thought sadly, watching him go. But thank You that he is so gentle.
Jenny came out of the bathroom to find the bed turned down and her husband waiting with a glass of water and two aspirins.
"Here," he said, "these might help."
Jenny took the pills gratefully, then crawled into bed. She was so tired. There hadn't been much chance for sleep during the kidnapping and even if there had been, she was afraid to try.
Gibbs stripped to his boxers for bed as usual, but stopped to put an old pair of pyjama pants and a t-shirt on, thinking Jenny might feel more comfortable with more layers between them. He shut off their bedroom light but when he reached for the bedside lamp, Jenny rolled her, stilling his hand.
"No, please, leave it on." Her eyes were wide and dark, scared.
"Why Jen?" he questioned. "I'm going to be right here, I promise."
"Please," she repeated, looking away from him. "At night it was so dark in the bunker that I couldn't see him coming."
Gibbs heart pounded faster and once again he thought how much he'd like to kill that guy. "Okay Jen, okay."
He climbed into bed and waited a couple minutes before reaching for her. Jenny felt im drawing her closer and she had to fight the panic as he molded his body to hers. She curled into a protective ball, tucking her head down and trying to get away from the memories pounding on her head. Gibbs sighed. Maybe he couldn't protect her from the dreams or the flashbacks, but he could make darn certain that she knew he'd keep the bad guys away. He felt the moment she gave in and started to cry. He hated to hear her hurting, the feel the sobs shaking her body, but it was better for her to let the emotions out. Jenny was too good at keeping things bottled up inside. He stroked her hair, her cheek, her arm, trying to give what little comfort he could.
"It's okay to cry Jen," he whispered. "Just let it out. I know you lost something there, give it time to come back."
After minutes and minutes her body stopped shaking and her breathing began to even out. Gibbs was tankful for her escape into sleep, thought he wondered fleetingly how long the peace would last. Matching his breathing rhythm to hers, he snuggled against his wife, but it was a long, long time before Gibbs fell asleep.