No light. No sound. No movement. Just the rhythm of her breathing. She couldn't hear or see him, but she knew he was there somewhere, waiting for her to let her guard down, waiting to strike. She didn't like to struggle when she knew he was in the room, didn't want to show him how helpless she really felt. She was so tired. And thirsty. When was the last time she had a drink? How many hours had it been? No way to tell time. It could've been hours or even days. Every second dragged on for an eternity before the next one came and did the same thing. How long had she been here? When was Jethro going to find her? She just wanted to go home, or anywhere, anywhere but here. Footsteps, coming nearer. Then they stopped beside the bed and she had to fight the urge to scream.

Jenny jerked in her sleep, the movement waking her. For several seconds before she opened her eyes, she froze. She didn't breathe, she didn't move. Was she still there? No, her arms and legs were free and she moved them just to be sure. Slowly opening her eyes, she was greeted by the familiar shadows of her bedroom furniture. Beside her in the bed, her husband took slow, deep breaths as he slept. She envied him that sleep.

Once her eyes were open, she was afraid to close them again. Fatigue tugged at her eyelids, but the second they slid closed the memory started all over again, and her eyes flew open. She couldn't, wouldn't go back there again. Back to hurting and helpless, back to hell. There was no way. The headache still throbbed behind her eyes and every sound made her tense, wondering if danger was near.

How long she lay and watched the shadows and counted seconds, Jenny wasn't sure. Her body wouldn't relax, her mind wouldn't let go of the nightmare, and so she was doomed to try to stay awake, until she couldn't anymore and the dreams came again. Would it always be like this? And why now? It had been a couple days since her last flashback and she didn't remember dreaming about what happened.

Her mind drifted back to earlier that evening, her and Jethro in the livingroom, talking and listening, finally. They'd talked about intimacy, about them, about what if and when. Suddenly it hit her. That was why. She'd been thinking about being with her husband, fearing it, and that connected back to her time in the bunker. Everything was back at the surface, too close for comfort.

The bedroom didn't seem safe anymore. Even lying beside her husband, Jenny felt exposed. Too much open space, too many dark corners, too many ways for someone to get to her. She had to go. She had to find a safe place. She had to hide. Slipping out of bed, Jenny crept to the door and listened, before venturing out into the hallway, the door to her bedroom falling open behind her.

NCIS

Gibbs woke at five in the morning, disturbed by something he couldn't name. He was about to lay down again when he heard a noise and knew that it had dragged him from his peaceful sleep. It was the unmistakable sound of a woman crying. He recognized it at the same moment he realized his wife was missing from their bed.

He slipped out from under the covers and followed the noise, knowing it would be Jenny. After all, who else would it be? Just next door to their bedroom was the guest room and that was where the sound originated. Even in the darkness of the empty room, Gibbs could see the closet door was folded open a couple inches. Crouching down, he tapped softly on the hollow door. There was a pause but then the sobbing continued. He moved closer and lowered himself to the floor.

"Jen?" he called softly, hoping she would respond to him. But she didn't. "Jen?" he pushed the closet door open to reveal his wife, sitting on the floor of the closet with her knees pulled up tight to her chest, crying into her folded arms. "Oh Jen." She always felt safer in small places, especially when she was crying. Jenny preferred to hide her tears from the world but would always seem grateful when he found her and tried to make it better.

When he reached for her, she jerked away from him, practically cowering in the corner of the closet. It must've been another bad dream. Last night when she'd woken from one, Jenny had scooted as far to her side of the bed as she could and lay there shaking, her body language warning him against touching her.

Tonight he felt just as helpless. He wasn't even sure she could hear him when he whispered, "What can I do Jen?"

But she raised her head and looked at him with tormented eyes. "Just talk to me Jethro. I need to hear your voice."

Heart breaking, Gibbs took her hand and began to talk to her about them, telling her their story. How he'd known she was special from the first moment he saw her, a spunky young redhead assigned to his team. And when they were in Paris, it felt like the beginning of a dream when they were together. He told her how he'd thought about her in Mexico and remembered the way they'd gotten back together after his return. He gave the details about their wedding and reminded her of the last seven months they had spend loving each other and how wonderful it was to know that she was his forever. Most of all, he whispered that no matter what, they were going to make it through this and they were going to be stronger and better at loving each other because of it.

How much later he wasn't sure, he heard Jenny's final, shuddering breath that signaled the end of her crying and watched as she wiped away the tears. He stood up and reached down to help her out of the closet. She walked slowly beside him back to their room and lay in bed, hugging a pillow to her chest. Gibbs wanted to comfort her but didn't know how, so he lay down close to her without their bodies touching and ran his hand down her hair, hoping she would go back to sleep but dreading what they might face if she did.

NCIS

Less than an hour later, Gibbs heard Jenny moving around their room. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. "Hey, are you okay?"

Jenny pulled her hair into a ponytail. She was dressed in fashionable work out attire, all black. "I think I'll go into work early," she said without looking at him.

"Want a ride?" he asked, wondering about her mood.

"No," she said, her voice flat. "Agent Tierney is waiting outside. I'll see you at the office." And without another word, she slipped on her shoes and left.

Gibbs leaned back on the pillows. 0630, he should be getting ready now too. But after waking up at five, his sleep had felt shorter than normal. He hadn't asked Jenny last night what had driven her to the closet. But he knew it couldn't be anything good. In fact, the last time he'd seen her so scared she had to hide, had been in Paris, after everything went wrong. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. He didn't know what was going on yet, but he was willing to bet it was going to be a very long day.

NCIS

The training gym in the basement of NCIS was quiet at 0700, no teams scheduled for their workouts until 1000 today. Jenny was running on the treadmill, pushing herself. Faster, faster. Fifteen minutes, twenty, then thirty. The stitch in her side didn't matter, neither did the headache that had never left. All that mattered was that while she focused on running and breathing and throwing one foot in front of the other, she didn't have time to think.

When she'd exhausted herself running and was finding it hard to catch her breath, she finally slowed down and got off. But this was only the beginning. Next she worked hand weights - bicep curls, tricep kickbacks, chest flies and anything else she could think of. Wondering the whole time what might have been different if she'd had the strength to break the ropes or the skill to maneuver out of them.

Her muscles quivering from exertion, Jenny had to take a break and lowered herself to the mat to stretch. Long and slow, over and over, using some she hadn't done since her ballet days. After she'd rested, she wrapped her hands and slid on a pair of ladies boxing gloves then stalked towards the punching bag hanging in the corner. She was determined to win this round.

NCIS

0830. His team was doing paperwork, he was pretending to do paperwork but nothing could take his mind off the way Jenny acted this morning. After fighting the urge to check on her for a solid hour and a half, Gibbs broke down and reached for the phone.

"Director Shepard's office," Cynthia answered.

"Put me through to the Director Cynthia," Gibbs ordered.

"I'm sorry Agent Gibbs," Cynthia sounded confused. "She hasn't come in yet. She phoned earlier and said she would be in the office by 1000." She paused. "You...didn't know. Oh. Did you want to leave a message?"

Gibbs hung up on Jenny's assistant and headed for the back elevator.

Tony stood. "Boss?"

"Sit," Gibbs pointed. "Nobody moves until those reports are finished."

"Where are you going?" the senior field agent dared to ask.

"Coffee break," Gibbs glowered at him.

"Gonna have your phone on for this one?" Tony muttered.

"What was that?" Gibbs turned around.

"Uh...nothing Boss."

"That's what I thought."

Gibbs shifted from side to side as the elevator descended to the subterranean levels of the building. He checked his watch, as if that could make things go faster. As soon as Cynthia said Jenny wasn't there, Gibbs knew. He didn't think Jenny would lie to him, so she had been coming into work. But her outfit suggested it was a different kind of work she was talking about. The elevator let him out on one of the lowest levels where the training gym was housed. He'd been down here many times with his team for combat training and other practice. And also numerous times by himself, for his own workout.

He stepped in the door, keeping close to the wall. He could hear the huffs of expelled air and the small noises one made when fighting. Edging further in the room, Gibbs finally saw Jenny in the far corner, beating at the punching bag as if it were threatening her life. He knew. Jenny wasn't here because she needed to exercise, she was plenty fit. She was here because she needed the release.

Looking at his watch again, he wondered if she'd been at this since she'd arrived this morning. If she had, the exertion obviously wasn't helping. She looked more worked up now that she'd been last night. The closer he got, the more he saw. Sweat rolling down the side of her face when she turned. Wet tendrils of hair clinging to the back of her neck. Her skin glistening all over from the perspiration.

Gibbs knew that sneaking up on her was a bad idea. In the state Jen was in, startling her would probably mean testing out his own close combat skills. Her anger and reflexes would over-ride anything else at this point. So he finally decided on wait until she noticed him. He sat down on the floor mat, wanting to look as unthreatening as possible. And as he watched her, his worry grew.