Stillwater High

by madame.alexandra

In this very au story, Jenny is the girl Gibbs meets in high school - his first love, until some unexpected teenage mistakes change their lives, and the paths they take, forever. Jibbs, 1st part of a 4 part series.

4. Without You Here

a/n: No, Jenny isn't off to California in this chapter - we've actually skipped right ahead to November, at this point.

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Stillwater, Pennsylvania: 1985/1986

Without You Here

---

Gravel crunched under the tires of his truck as he rolled up the rough drive behind his father's store. He was exhausted from a day at the mines, and he was late – but he was glad to be here. As he parked, someone's dog ran happily up to the door – in Stillwater, he never quite knew whose dog was running around.

He slammed the truck door and tossed his hat into the back of the truck, bending down to scratch the dog's ears – it was a hound, and to his surprise, he realized it was one of Jasper Shepard's police hounds – a retired one, that he kept around occasionally.

"Leroy!"

Gibbs looked up, blinking in the sun, and tried to wipe at his face a little. His mother waved him over, looking extremely put together and pretty in the chilly November air. He approached her, and she rose on her toes to kiss his cheek.

"You made it," she said, with a warm smile.

He nodded – his supervisor had tried to keep him longer, but Gibbs had used what little seniority he had to put his foot down.

"Wouldn't miss it," he promised gruffly. "Where is she?"

"Oh," Ann turned, and then gestured.

Gibbs looked up – Chief Shepard had the birthday girl in his arms, but right as Gibbs caught his eye, Jenny had strolled up and taken the baby, turning and setting her down. She crouched down next to her, and whispered something encouragingly.

As Gibbs got closer, Jenny let go of Natalie, and she started to walk towards him. Gibbs stopped in his tracks, his eyebrows going up. He realized quiet a few eyes were on him, and that was understandable – last time he saw Natalie, two days ago, she'd still only been crawling.

She put her small hands out and started to run.

"Ohhh, Jethro!" called Jenny, catching her breath.

"Da Da!" Natalie cried, and promptly fell forward, scuffing her hands and her knees.

Gibbs swept her right up, reaching up to wipe her eyes before the tears could fall. Natalie's face crumpled, and she put her little arms around his neck.

"Da Da," she screeched unhappily.

He shrugged.

"Don't cry," he encouraged, smiling at her. "You can walk?" he asked, widening his eyes theatrically. He bent his head and kissed her, closing his eyes a moment. When he opened them, Jenny was standing right there, reaching up with anxious hands to paw at Natalie's hands and knees.

"She's going to be one of those kids who always has scrapes," Jenny sighed.

"When did she start walking?" Gibbs asked.

"I swear, Jethro, maybe thirty minutes ago – she got up and chased Dad's dog," Jenny said breathlessly.

Natalie laid her head on Gibbs' shoulder and snuggled up close, blinking wide eyes at Jenny.

"Da Da," she said contently.

"Yes. See? I told you he'd come," Jenny said soothingly. "He's all dirty," she laughed, brushing at his sooty shirt.

He shrugged.

"I didn't want to miss more'n I had to," he said.

He hoped Jenny didn't mind too much that he looked like he'd just crawled out of some dark hole in the middle of a mountain – even though he kind of had. He nodded his head subtly, lowering his voice.

"Your dad came?" he asked.

"And brought Moose," she answered, an excited smile touching her lips. Moose was the retired police dog that had greeted Gibbs in the driveway. "I guess he got over my extravagance," Jenny snorted.

Gibbs shifted Natalie from one arm to the other and looked over her head at Jasper Shepard – this was Natalie's first birthday party, and at first he'd curtly told Jenny that it was ridiculous to throw a one-year-old a party, especially in her situation. He saw it as another way to celebrate the fact that she was an unwed teen mother – but Jenny just wanted Natalie to know she was wanted, and valued – even if she was little.

Gibbs snorted.

"Knew he wouldn't miss his granddaughter's birthday," he said knowingly.

"I wasn't so sure," Jenny said uncertainly.

Gibbs gave her a wry look.

"He's softenin', Jen," he told her smugly. "Wait 'til Nat starts talkin'."

Jenny folded her arms, and admired her daughter.

"Are you going to start talking soon, baby?" she asked. "Anything besides Mama, Dada?" She caught Gibbs' eye. "What do you think her first word will be?" she asked.

Gibbs cocked his head, and glanced at the top of Natalie's head. He smiled, and arched a brow.

"Irresponsible," he drawled pointedly.

Jenny laughed – well, Natalie certainly heard that word enough, whether her parents deserved it in the moment it was used or not. Gibbs grinned, and ran his hand up and down her back, a little sorry he'd missed her walk for the first time – but he worked constantly, long hours – and hard – since he'd graduated, and he was used to not seeing her as much, even though he still saw her every chance he got.

He kept her a few nights a week so Jenny could buckle down and get school work done, but she often said it just stressed her out more; she missed Natalie, and worried about her, even though she knew Gibbs took good care of her, and he had Ann if something went wrong.

Still, since the Summer – when Jenny had her in California for weeks on end – Gibbs had valued his time with her as much as possible, and Jenny had become a lot more confident in taking care of Natalie and actively being Natalie's mother. Apparently, Jenny's much more modern mother had been a lot less intimidating and judgmental than the old Colonel when it came to watching Jenny parent.

Natalie lifted her head and swiveled around, surveying the area – the little celebration was taking place in the Gibbs' backyard, most of it in the screen-covered porch. It was a mild winter so far, and the sun was out – it was more pleasant than November was expected to be.

Ann Gibbs approached again, smiling.

"You don't hog this sweet baby all day," she admonished gently.

Gibbs took a step back and gave her a playful look.

"She's mine, isn't she?" he retorted.

Jenny shrugged.

"Maybe," she said, deadpan.

"Lord, sweetheart, you'll give your father a heart attack," Ann laughed. She reached out and pried Natalie away gently. "You go get changed, Leroy, clean up. I can't have you lookin' like Paul Bunyan in these pictures."

"Aw, Ma – "

"Hush," Ann said.

Jenny looked at Ann with Natalie for a moment, and then cleared her throat.

"You know, I'll go with you, Jethro," she said lightly. She flashed a grin at Ann. "Can't let him put on just another plain t-shirt, can I?" she teased.

Ann tilted her head, winked a little, and nodded – she'd take care of Natalie for a moment, if Jenny wanted a moment alone to talk to Gibbs. Ann held Natalie expertly in one arm, turned her head to cough for a moment, and then carried her off towards a Church friend, no doubt to demurely show off her pretty granddaughter.

Gibbs started towards the house, Jenny at his heels, and headed up the stairs to his bedroom. She entered behind him and cracked the door, almost closing it. He took off his dirty shirt and threw it in a corner.

"I'm not that quick, Jen," he quipped.

She, on her way to pick up the shirt and place it in the correct laundry receptacle, laughed, her cheeks flushing.

"That's not why I followed you up here," she said sheepishly.

"No?"

He pulled on a wrinkled flannel shirt and buttoned it half up, launching himself over his bed and grabbing her. She giggled, and he pulled her towards him, sitting on the bed and holding her hips in his hands.

"It's been a long time," he whined.

"I know," she murmured.

She leaned down to kiss him, and his hands snaked tightly around her waist. She sighed nervously, and turned her head away. He kissed her neck.

"Not now," she mumbled.

"I know," he said right back, turning his head, trying to catch her eye.

He understood that they couldn't just strip their clothes off and go at it now – it was their daughter's birthday, and they couldn't slip away for too long. The thing was, though – they could never slip away anymore. Their sex life hadn't really suffered while she was pregnant – there was no danger in that – but it had waned understandably in the dawn of new parenthood, and since then – something had happened.

Fear had a lot to do with it – fear of some horrible accident happening, and them having another baby, trauma from the whole pregnancy experience in the first place - and the inability to ever get away from either Natalie or their parents or their responsibilities – but something had happened even since Jenny had come back from California firmly on birth control her mother had given her.

Maybe it was still just fear; maybe it was something else.

"Jen, I'll wear one, I swear," he told her.

He'd made the mistake of assuming since she was taking a pill, he was off the hook for a condom – but she'd been terrified of trusting just the chemicals, and they'd had a huge fight – the last time they'd even tried to have sex.

She turned back to look at him.

"I know," she said emphatically. "I know, it's not you," she said.

She bent to kiss him, and she tasted nervous, and guilty. She pushed her hair back.

"I'm just really trying not to get distracted, and the fact that my father came today means I know he's – he's at least respecting me a little, and I don't want to fuck that up – "

"You don't have to tell him what we're doin', Jen!"

"I know, I know! But I don't want to look like I'm slacking off – I mean I can tell he's proud of how I'm taking care of Nat, and I just – I'm afraid I'll lose what I'm gaining."

Gibbs said nothing, but he nodded after a moment. He reached out and took her hands, squeezing them tightly. She smiled faintly.

"You're working hard, too," she said quietly.

"I missed Natalie walking," he said grimly.

"She won't remember," Jenny said gently. "It's okay, Jethro."

He grunted, unhappy. She touched his cheek.

"Well, now aren't you glad I kept you home from the Marines?" she asked half-heartedly. "You'd miss a lot more."

He considered her for a moment, and then he quirked one corner of his mouth up.

"Think we need to get out on our own, Jen," he said.

"Easy for you to say," she whispered back. "You're out of high school."

She stepped back, and crossed her arms. After a moment of watching her, he got up and changed into clean jeans, his back to her. She turned and watched him move, and then cleared her throat.

"I put in a couple of college applications," she said hoarsely.

He turned around, buttoning his jeans. He arched his eyebrows.

"Thought you couldn't," he said warily. "Your physics class –"

"I'm going to try to make up the credits next semester," she said earnestly. "It's already on my schedule – I'll just need as much help as possible – and not big schools, far away – a community college in Scranton, and one in Philadelphia."

She chewed on her lip, going silent for a long time.

"How're you gonna pay for it?" he asked.

"I don't know," she sighed. "I don't have the grades for a scholarship anymore, but maybe I have the story."

"Jen, if I join the Marines, I can get you to college."

"But you'd have to leave, and I don't want you to leave me – "

"You go off to college in Scranton or Philly, you leave me!" he interrupted tersely. "I got two jobs here I can't leave for a second – I got to support you and Nat," he reminded her. "Why is it you get to talk about runnin' off, but when I do it – "

"Jethro, that's not what I mean!" she burst out. "I'd want to move with you somewhere, while I'm in school – "

"With my job Jen, with my job I can afford child support, but you think it can support tuition, rent, insurance – all that crap?" he demanded – he was trying to keep his voice low, lest someone hear him.

Tears welled up in her eyes.

"I'm just trying to tell you – that I applied," she said, her voice catching. "And it's such a long shot, Jethro. It's such a long shot. Do you know how hard it is for me to apply to college knowing I might not even get in? When I was top of my class?"

He stared at her numbly, and she wiped at her eyes, placing her hands on her hips.

"Dammit," she swore. "Dammit, I know I might have to – dammit, Jethro, I don't even know if I can graduate on time, if they'll let me take an extra class – if I can even handle it! And then, I'll probably have to save money – I mean, I should get a job now, even, so at least you're not breaking your back – "

"No, I'll keep working," he said sharply. "You stay in school."

She looked up at the ceiling.

"This is so hard."

He swallowed hard, and nodded. He walked forward, standing before her with his hands in his pockets – it was hard; it was so much harder than they'd ever imagined, and so much more natural at the same time. He caught her eye when she lowered her head, and gave her a strong smile.

"Natalie," he said.

She licked her lips.

"What?" she asked softly.

"Natalie's one, Jen," he said.

She smiled at him, and her eyes glittered – yes; Natalie was a year old. They'd had a daughter for a year – they'd gotten a baby, happy and healthy, to a year old – with him barely eighteen, and her not even able to vote yet. She had to smile at that, because a year ago, she'd never have thought she could do it.

He bent to kiss her, and she wrapped her arms around him for a mere moment, holding on to that huge triumph.

---

Gibbs lay with his eyes closed lightly, calmly anticipating an unintentionally rough poke on his chest, or maybe a pat on his cheek. Tiny knees dug into his ribs as his daughter shifted, and she giggled – and then it wasn't a poke or a pat he got; her head collided full on with his.

He opened his eyes wide, shaking his head a little, and she shrieked with delight, blinking at him happily.

"Da Da," she crooned contently, beaming at him with sparkling blue eyes. She sat up, resting her weight on her heels and easing some of the pressure on his chest. "Da Da," she said conversationally, giggling. She covered her eyes, wriggling her fingers.

He furrowed his brow, feigning confusion.

"Natalie?" he asked. He pretended to shift around, turning his head this way and that – pretending he didn't see her lowering her hands mischievously. "Nat? Where'd you go?"

He frowned, and rubbed his jaw, looking as worried as he could.

"What'm I gonna tell Mama?"

Natalie yanked her hands away and lunged forward, shoving her face into his shoulder. She let out a high-pitched screech of amusement, still laughing when he sat her up gently and grinned at her.

"Da Da," she laughed, pointing at him. "Hide!" she commanded.

It was one of her few words, and it was one of her favorites. He and Jenny weren't even sure how much she understood what it meant – sure, right now they were playing peek-a-boo, so she seemed to get it; but she also tended to answer questions like 'Do you want some juice?' with 'HIDE!'

Gibbs obediently closed his eyes tightly and stayed very still. Natalie poked him in the chest, giggling through her teeth. He imagined her scrunching up her nose and glaring at him in her own little way – a mix of him and Jenny – and tried not to smile; naturally he had to take the game as seriously as she did.

She poked him in the chest again, and he felt her leaning closer – but rather than let her head-butt him again – and start thinking that was acceptable – he seized her hand gently and opened his eyes dramatically, sitting forward and snatching her close. He started to tickle her.

She screamed and burst into fresh giggles, squirming and trying to get away.

"Da Da, NO!" she shrieked breathlessly. She burst into another peal of laughter. "No!" she squealed again, and Gibbs stopped tickling and let her go, because Jenny had advised him to always stop whatever he was doing to Natalie the minute she said no, even if she sounded like she was having fun.

"I just want her to understand that no is an important word," she'd insist, "besides, I hate it when people won't stop tickling me."

Natalie got on her hands and knees and crawled around over Gibbs, settling down near his feet and picking up a Rubik's cube she'd been fascinated with earlier. She eyed the flashy colours, and then started messing with it, exerting as much strength as possible to move it.

"Bring it here, Bug," Gibbs said, sitting up a little more – he was stretched out on a couch in Jasper Shepard's living room. He wasn't necessarily supposed to be here, but the Chief was on night duty, and Gibbs was told to get out of his own house for a bit.

"Natalie," he called gently. "C'mere."

She crawled back towards him, and held the toy out obediently. She popped him in the lip with it, but he just sucked on the cut a little and ignored it, turning the colours around for her.

"If you solve it, you're a genius," he told her solemnly. "Mama plays with it in class," he said, and then frowned at it a little. "Used to," he muttered – Jenny used all of her class time to focus now; if she didn't focus, she'd fall asleep – so Natalie inherited the Rubik's cube, a symbol of the days when Jenny had breezed through school as a star student.

Gibbs offered it back to the baby, watching her intently.

"Gonna solve it?" he asked quietly.

Natalie took the toy, and began playing with it again, glancing up at him sweetly. He pulled her closer and kissed her head, letting her squirm away, giggling, and focus on the cube again.

He wondered if Jenny would be back before bedtime. Natalie always went to bed easier for Jenny. On the nights when Gibbs had her at his house, she was either excited, or fussy, or just generally unhappy with the situation. She liked sleeping with Jenny, or she liked her little room in her grandfather's house.

Gibbs frowned slightly. More and more lately, he wanted his own place for him, Natalie, and Jenny. He loved his mother, and all of her help, but he'd never get along with his father, and it was getting more and more irritating to have to navigate their parents' wishes when they had a child of their own – especially when they couldn't even live together.

He'd been trying to think of a way to make more money, to get on his own feet – he knew Jenny didn't like the idea of the military, and he had to let her graduate first anyway – but it was difficult, in this small town. He thought Jasper Shepard would have more respect for him if he made more of his own way.

Natalie crawled forward, balancing on his chest, and rolled the Rubik's cube towards his shoulder. She pursed her lips and cocked her head.

"Hide," she commanded, pushing the cube off his shoulder and down into the nooks of the couch. "Hide, hide, hide!"

He closed his eyes tightly, and turned his head away, obeying her insistent commands. She smirked and pounced on him, her knee digging into his rib sharply. Inadvertently, he twisted away from the sharp pain, and Natalie lost her balance and toppled off his chest onto the floor.

"No!" Natalie yelped. "Ouch!" she piped up.

He bolted up in a panic and reached for her blindly, horrified he'd let her fall. She'd landed on her knees, arms thrust out in front of her, and she was sitting back and blinking, rubbing the top of her head thoughtfully.

She twisted her head and peered up at him. He looked back at her guiltily, and when she smiled at him, he felt even guiltier. She got up and reached for him and he picked her up, standing her up on his knees and kissing her cheek.

"'M sorry," he muttered seriously. He looked at her knees to see if there were rug burns or anything, and then kissed her forehead, giving her a little hug. He had to learn not to react when she accidentally hurt him. "You're tough, aren't ya?" he asked, apologizing again.

"What are you sorry for?"

He looked up, and spotted Jenny standing in the doorway, sliding easily out of a nice winter pea coat. She shook some snow off of the collar and dropped the coat over the back of an armchair, her eyes curious, but a little wary.

"She fell," Gibbs admitted. "She tumbled off me." He pointed to the ground where she'd been sitting, indicating how far. "Didn't hit her head."

"I'm sure she's fine, Jethro," Jenny said calmly. "Babies are sturdy."

She dropped her bag on the floor and came forward, holding her hands out.

"Natalie," she called brightly. "Look, Mama's home!"

Natalie twisted around and reached for her, waving.

"Hi-hi," she greeted.

"Hi-hi," Jenny said back, giving her a warm hug. She sat down next to Gibbs on the couch. "What are you and Daddy doing?" she asked, smoothing Natalie's light auburn hair down. She worked out a few knots gently with her fingers, and gave Gibbs a questioning look. "I went to your house – your Dad told me you were here."

"Mom's sick," Gibbs grunted. "Doesn't want to give anything to Nat," he explained. He shrugged. "Figured I'd come over here and wait for you."

"Does my dad know?" Jenny asked earnestly. She chewed on her lip a moment, pulling Natalie closer to her. "He expects me to stay at your place when he works nights – you know he doesn't like me alone here with Natalie, not at night."

Gibbs shrugged again.

"I'm stayin' over. I'm sleepin' on the couch," he said boldly.

Jenny arched a brow and gave him a skeptical look. She smirked, and then lifted Natalie, standing her on her lap and scrunching up her face in amusement.

"Daddy is so brave, isn't he?" she asked. "He's a big man now."

Natalie giggled, reaching out to grasp at Jenny's hair gently. Jenny let her, and held her confidently, letting Natalie balance by shifting her weight from foot to foot as it suited her.

"Your mom's sick again?" Jenny asked softly, tilting her head as Natalie pulled on her red waves. "With what?"

"Says its bronchitis again," Gibbs grunted, his mouth tightening. "She had pneumonia over Christmas, though."

"She wouldn't let that go untreated," Jenny said hastily.

Gibbs wasn't so sure. The winter weather seemed to bring illness to Ann Gibbs this year – she always seemed to be coughing. She'd quit smoking, too – perhaps to attempt to assuage the cough.

"She's protectin' Natalie," Gibbs said, leaning back on the couch.

Jenny nodded, and smiled at her daughter.

"Grammy loves you so much," she told her brightly. "More than anyone else you'll ever meet – except me," she added.

Gibbs kicked her ankle gently and gave Natalie a look.

"And me," he added, affronted.

Jenny nodded, and gave Natalie a wink.

"Down," Natalie said.

Jenny let Natalie down onto the floor, and the fifteen-month-old wandered over to Gibbs, pulling on his knee. He fished out the Rubik's cube from the couch, handed it to her, and watched her sit down contently and start to play with it again.

"Bwoo," she said matter-of-factly, twisting the colours. "Bwoo," she said again, laughing at herself.

Jenny looked at her with interest.

"Oh, yeah," Gibbs spoke up. "She said a new word – blue."

Jenny looked around half-heartedly, and then closed her eyes and concentrated.

"What?" Gibbs asked.

"I have to remember, for her baby book. I'm keeping track of her first ten words," Jenny said earnestly.

He laughed.

"Why only ten?"

"Because," Jenny said, flushing, "my mom sent me this magazine, and it said your baby's first words might tell a story about her personality."

Gibbs rolled his eyes, and Jenny leaned back, crossing her arms and turning her nose up.

"I know it's stupid, Jethro, but I think it would be amusing – "

"Hide, No, Da Da, Mama, Down – "

"Da Da and Mama don't count, she's been babbling those since she was teeny."

Gibbs started listing words again –

"Hide, no, down, blue," he paused, thinking, and then went on, ticking off words with his fingers, "chick, curl – "

"Ah, but did we ever figure out if she's saying curl or if she's trying to say squirrel?"

"What's it matter?"

"Well, if she says curl it could mean she's going to be a girly-girl type, but squirrel might mean tomboy."

Jenny blinked solemnly, and Gibbs snorted.

"Natalie," he called.

She looked up at him and smiled, her eyes glittering. Gibbs leaned forward.

"You mean squirrel like nuts, or curl like – Mama's hair?"

Natalie blinked at him a few times, and then threw the Rubik's cube.

"Hide," she said smugly.

Gibbs swatted the toy away.

"Don't throw things, Natalie," Jenny murmured tiredly. If her father – or even Gibbs' mother – had been around, she'd have made more of a show of being authoritative and commanding, but since it was just them, she was gentler.

Natalie got up and started to explore innocently.

"What did you give her for supper?" Jenny asked quietly.

"Oatmeal."

"That's breakfast food, Jethro."

He snorted.

"But she wanted the oatmeal with the dinosaur eggs. Swear she almost said dinosaur."

"Can't you say no to a toddler?"

He shook his head, and then turned his head, glancing at her.

"How'd tutoring go?"

She shrugged.

"I'm on the right track now," she murmured, and then shook her head bitterly. "It's preposterous that my diploma might depend on quantum theory. I don't want to work for NASA."

Gibbs grinned.

"Now you know how I feel," he told her, giving her a pained look – he'd never thought any of the crap he was learning in high school was relevant to what he needed to know in life. That's why he didn't give a damn about college, either.

She looked over at him and pursed her lips.

"I know you don't like school," she said softly, "but don't say that stuff around Natalie. She shouldn't grow up thinking education is stupid."

Gibbs's grin faded; he looked a little sheepish.

"S'not what I meant, Jen," he said. "I want her to be smart."

Jenny nodded. She looked around at Natalie.

"I know," she sighed. "I'm just – God, if I don't pass this class, I can't have my diploma until I take the summer course."

"You'll pass," he encouraged.

But she didn't know. She might have gotten used to having a baby to worry about, but she was still always tired, still always trying to balance everything – still a step behind everyone in school, if only because she was so exhausted, it was hard to retain information – she was doing the best she could.

"I want to finish on time," she said fiercely. "I want to at least do that. Everyone thought I'd drop out. I'll show them all."

Gibbs gave her a small, proud smirk. Looking at her, hearing her determination – he decided to voice a thought he'd been mulling over, in the past week.

"Jen, you think the County's hiring cops?"

She lifted her head and looked at him – after taking a moment to check on Natalie, who'd decided to sit back down and start playing contently with the Rubik's cube again.

"Probably," she guessed. "If not Columbia country, then the Pennsylvania Sheriff's department," she ventured.

"Think your Dad would put a good word in for me?" he went on warily. "Can't ever figure out if he likes me."

Jenny laughed shortly.

"I don't think he's ever forgiven you for Natalie," she snorted. "Although – he loves Natalie to pieces, even if he never says it, so maybe he's thankful."

Gibbs tilted his head a little, waiting. Jenny chewed on her lip a moment.

"You want to be a cop?"

He shrugged.

"I think I'd be a good cop," he said, after a careful pause.

She pushed a handful of her hair back, and compressed her lips – she thought he was probably right. Some cops tended to be bullies, some too rigid to understand people who made mistakes – Gibbs was neither of those.

"Why the sudden interest?"

"Pay's good," Gibbs said. "Don't need a college degree, just a diploma, clean record, couple months of trainin'," he listed. He'd looked into it – it seemed like a better option than breaking his back at two minimum wage jobs and still not being able to get out of his parents' house. "I could support you on that," he said confidently.

She listened thoughtfully.

"I could get us a place, maybe in a city over – maybe get on the force in Bloomsburg," he told her. "Get us some space, out on our own," he paused, hesitating. "Could try to get you to college, eventually."

She smiled a little, but he thought it looked sad. He made her feel selfish – everything he mentioned, he remembered she wanted to go to college – and nothing he mentioned sounded like the life she'd wanted, and she was trying so hard still to accept that and make do.

"That sounds nice," she said.

He gave her a wry look.

"But it's not what you want."

She glanced over her shoulder at Natalie, playing on the floor with the Rubik's cube.

"It's not really about that anymore," she said, trying to convince herself as she said it.

Natalie looked up and held up the toy.

"Blue!" she shrieked at them, pleased with herself.

Jenny smiled at her admiringly. She blew her a kiss.

"I'll see what my Dad says about the police," she murmured, getting up and walking over to Natalie.

She crouched beside the toddler, and lifted her up easily, kissing her auburn hair affectionately. She gestured towards the stairs, and Gibbs watched her take the baby upstairs for her bedtime routine – he always felt like he was left wondering if Jenny was happy or not.

---

Jenny leaned against a worn wooden counter, holding Natalie lazily, her cheek close to the toddler's. Natalie pointed confidently to her left, and her mother nodded, smiling.

"Daddy," she agreed warmly, keeping her voice low. "Shhh, he's concentrating…he's got a good arm, you know," she confided.

Natalie giggled, tickled by Jenny's whispers, and Jenny grinned, relieved the child was in a good mood. Natalie had a rough ear infection two weeks ago, and she hadn't seemed over it until just recently.

"Look, look," Jenny coaxed, lifting Natalie's finger again.

With rapt attention, Natalie stared at Gibbs – he was busy playing one of those silly fair games, all in the hope of winning the eighteen-month-old a little stuffed dog, or maybe even one of the big bears.

Gibbs knocked a little ring into a bottle, and it trembled, but didn't fall. Natalie gasped, excited.

"It's rigged," Jenny called, laughing as she tried to soothe Gibbs' pride. She watched him scowl sheepishly, and hand over another dollar. "Hey, that better not be my child support!" she joked lightly.

She touched her nose sweetly to Natalie's, and Gibbs pretended to kiss the money before he winked at Natalie.

"Hang in there, Bug," he growled, pointing seriously at the biggest bear. "I'll get 'im for you."

"Hmm," Jenny murmured, tickling Natalie's stomach. "If you had an old Daddy, he wouldn't be so entertained by silly fair games," she told her. "He'd be at work all the time and he wouldn't have told his father to go to hell and whisked you and Mommy off to the fair."

She lowered her voice conspiratorially.

"Maybe you're lucky he's eighteen because he's still fun."

She smiled a little half-heartedly, leaning forward to kiss Natalie's temple, knowing it all went over her little head. The baby stared at her, then giggled and grabbed at her necklace.

"Fun," she repeated.

"Fun," Jenny said softly, nodding.

It was Memorial Day weekend, and despite both Jackson Gibbs' and Jasper Shepard's annoyed protestations, Jenny and Gibbs had stolen away to take Natalie to the Boalsburg Parade, a festival that commemorated Boalsburg, Pennsylvania's alleged claim to fame as the birthplace of the holiday.

The past winter had seemed endless and worse than usual; Natalie had gotten sick several times, which had sent Jenny into more than one tearful panic – she'd stayed over, desperate for Ann's help, more than a few weeks. Gibbs was getting his back broken in the mines, working all he could in the winter months when there was nothing else to do so maybe he could save something, but he never seemed to be able to keep track of where his money went – it was always something he needed to do for Natalie or buy for Natalie, and though he didn't mind providing for her, it frustrated him that there seemed to be no way out possible. And on top of that, Jenny was still in school.

It felt like a lifetime since Natalie had been born, and then sometimes it felt like it hadn't been that long at all.

"What a darling little girl!"

An exclamation over Jenny's shoulder startled her, and she straightened, smoothing the front of her outfit. She knew the thin cotton wrinkled easily, and she tried hard to look put together, so maybe people would start thinking she had it all going right for her no matter what.

A middle-aged woman had stopped to look at Natalie, her eyes shining with amusement. Jenny smiled with pride – Natalie did look precious, in the little red-white-and-blue checkered sundress her grandmother had made her, accessorized with neat little blue Mary Janes and glittery red ribbons braided delicately through her always-growing hair.

If anything, she always made sure Natalie looked impeccably well taken care of – as she was – so there would be no doubt that Jenny Shepard was a good mother, no matter how young she was.

"Thank you," Jenny said kindly.

She tickled Natalie's knee.

"Natalie Winter, can you say thank you?"

"Merci," Natalie piped up shyly, her eyes sparkling.

"Show off," Jenny said, giving her a proud look. "Her grandfather taught her that," she explained to the stranger. "He was stationed in France, once."

"What did you say her middle name was?" the woman asked, stepping closer. Her look fawned over Natalie.

"Winter," Jenny supplied.

"That's quite unique. I think I like that."

Jenny smiled. She glanced at Gibbs – he was keeping an eye on them, she could tell, but he was also still playing the game. Natalie leaned forward and clutched at Jenny, hiding her face.

"Oh, she's shy," Jenny said calmly. "She prefers her Daddy hold her in crowds."

The woman beamed.

"She is just gorgeous," she complimented. She looked between Jenny and the baby. "I don't think I've ever seen sisters with such striking eyes – if yours were blue like hers, I'd say you were twins born years apart!"

Jenny opened her mouth to correct the woman, and then she pressed her lips together and changed her mind, instead smiling graciously and accepting the compliment for both of them.

Natalie blinked her bright blue eyes, and gave a small wave.

"You all have fun at the fair," the woman wished, taking one more wistful look at Natalie before wandering off to rejoin the excitable crowds.

Jenny looked down until Natalie emerged from her cocoon and looked up at her. Natalie thrust out her arm and pointed again.

"Mama," she said smugly. "Bear."

Jenny turned to find her vision completely obstructed by the most obnoxious, over the top, fluffy stuffed bear Gibbs possibly could have picked out. She blinked, surprised, and then his face appeared around the bear's arm, and he gave her a smirk and gloated silently a moment.

"Rigged, huh?" he drawled, shaking the bear a little.

Jenny swatted at him, but ended up catching the bear's gaudy bowtie in her nail, and burst out laughing. She shook her head and swept Natalie off the counter, settling her on her hip easily.

"What am I going to do with that? It's bigger than Nat!" she shrieked. "It needs a seatbelt of its own!"

Gibbs shrugged, and tucked the damn thing under his arm. Natalie hung over Jenny's arm, secure in her mother's grip, and tugged on the bear's hand, holding on to it possessively.

"Bear, Daddy!" she announced, pointing happily. "Bear, bear, big bear!"

He nodded, and bent to kiss her head, before falling into step next to Jenny – close enough so Natalie could easily keep hold on her new prized possession.

"Just for you, Bug," he promised quietly.

He wrapped an arm loosely around Jenny and walked quietly for a moment, before glancing down at her.

"Why didn't you correct that woman?" he asked.

"Hmm?" she murmured, her eyes straight ahead – she knew what he meant, but she feigned innocence. She wasn't entirely sure, and she didn't know if she could answer satisfactorily – and he knew her well enough to know she was stalling, so he rolled his eyes and obliged her.

"That woman who talked like Natalie's your sister," he prodded. "Why didn't you tell her she's ours?"

She chewed on her lip, frustrated.

"I don't know, Jethro, I," she broke off, suddenly completely aware of why she'd done it. "Because," she said, her eyes narrowing. "Because Natalie is a gorgeous little girl, and people say so a lot, but whenever they find out I'm her mother, they get this look in their eye – you know, a little prim, a little appalled, judgmental," she listed, licking her lips, "and Natalie is going to start seeing faces fall when I tell them she's mine, and I don't want her thinking that there's anything wrong with me, or by association, her."

Gibbs tilted his head at her, letting the speech simmer – he hadn't expected her to get so heated; he'd just thought maybe she considered it easier not to get into it. There were always two reactions – people awkwardly excused themselves, or started to ask questions they didn't seem to realize were incredibly personal – like how old Jenny was when she'd gotten pregnant, or if the delivery was hard.

He ran his hand up and down Jenny's arm tightly, pulling her a little closer. He didn't feel the need to say anything else. He understood what she meant, but he'd love to see her throw it in their faces. Natalie was his kid, and there was nothing upturned noses or disapproving looks could do to change that.

Jenny sighed.

"What do you want to do next?" she asked, half to Natalie, half to Gibbs. "She's too little for the rides – maybe Dad was right, this was stupid," she muttered.

"Don't get like that."

"Jethro – "

"Don't get like that, Jen," he interrupted heavily, frowning. He pulled her to the side, away from the dusty pathway and towards a shady tree, where they could sit on a low stone wall running along the outskirts of the fair.

"Like what?" she snapped nastily.

He gestured at her silently and reached out to take Natalie, smoothing her hair down.

"You were happy a second ago," he reminded her. "You don't have to sink into this – angry, bitter swamp every time you remember life isn't exactly how you planned it."

She tilted her head up, her thighs hitting the back of the wall as she took a surprised step back. He held Natalie easily in one hand, and the large stuffed bear dangled from the other. Humming, the toddler hung herself over his arm to try and reach it, smiling wickedly to herself.

"I'm not," she started feebly.

"Yes, you always do this, every damn time," he griped, narrowing his eyes. "How old does she have to be before you get over it?"

She stared at him a moment.

"Jethro," she said quietly. "I'm not ashamed of Natalie."

He swallowed hard, his neck flushing red – sometimes, he felt like she was. He felt like she was uncomfortable when he carried Natalie around town with him – because he didn't give a damn if people stared, or whispered, or still gave little pitying shakes of their heads. But he felt like she wanted to hide away, or keep trying to prove that her life hadn't changed at all.

"I just don't like the way people look at us," Jenny confessed quietly.

"It doesn't matter, Jenny," he said fiercely. "It doesn't matter."

She sat down, and pushed her hair back. She folded her arms across her stomach and shook her head.

"It's not the same for you – everyone in Stillwater stopped blaming you, stopped acting like you were a failure – but everyone still looks at me like I'm dumb damaged goods – I heard one of the dressmakers saying so – 'she's got that Gibbs boy tied up in knots providing for her, she just goes on like she never did anything wrong' – I'm not like that," she burst out. "Why can't they see that I'm working just as hard as you are? I just thought an education could get me where your hard work and architecture talent can get you!"

Gibbs tucked Natalie's head against his shoulder, bouncing her a little. He didn't want her to think she was in trouble. He rolled his eyes at the thought of one of Stillwater's three dressmakers – gossips, all of them.

"Don't listen to anything Deborah Henry says – "

"It wasn't Debbie Henry, it was Melissa Fielding – "

"Her, either!" Gibbs barked. "S'long as I come home, and Natalie's smilin,' I don't care how much I work," he growled. He paused, and looked at Jenny for a long, quiet moment. "It'd make it a hell of a lot easier if I could make you happy lately, too," he added finally.

She tilted her head up at him, her hair falling down her back in a tangled mess. Her lips trembled – looking into his somewhat lost, desperate eyes, she felt like he was trying to tell her something, but she didn't let him – her own sadness poured out:

"I didn't get into college," she said, dissolving into tears. "Not a single one – even community college won't take me, because I still haven't finished that science credit."

Her shoulders shook, and she reached up to wipe at her eyes furiously.

"I missed so much more school every time Natalie was sick this winter – that's not her fault, and it's okay, I'd rather be with her – and I know you couldn't take off work, and I can't always ask Ann – "

"Jen," Gibbs said in a pained voice, "Jen, Ma wanted to help, she just hasn't been up to it lately – "

She missed the meaning in his words, and pushed her hair back again.

"I never got the science credit I missed after Natalie was born, and if I – if I don't get at least a B on my final Calculus test, I'm going to fail the class and be short a math cred – and then it's not just a summer class, Jethro, it's a – I'll get held back, they won't let me walk at all."

Gibbs stood quietly, stroking Natalie's back. He stepped closer, sat the bear down gently at Jenny's feet, and then sat next to her, shifting his daughter to his lap. She immediately crawled over to her mother's lap, and Jenny hugged her close – ever quick to make sure Natalie knew she was loved, even if her parents struggled.

Jenny fixed one of Natalie's ribbons, then kissed her forehead.

"I do love you," she assured the baby. "I love you so much."

"She knows," Gibbs said earnestly, reaching out to run his hand through Jenny's hair. "You don't have to tell her – "

"No, we should tell her every day," Jenny said firmly. "That way, even when it gets really hard – and I – I think it's going to get harder, before we ever feel like we've got this – that way she knows it's not her fault. Ever. She didn't choose us, or this."

Gibbs leaned forward on his knees, staring down at the bear. The thought that it would get harder – before it got better – had never occurred to him, not until recently. He'd always seen it going up, getting more positive; first he'd get out of school, then she would, and then he'd surprise her with the money he'd been hiding away – almost seven thousand! – and he'd ask her where she wanted to go, and get them a place. Just to get started.

But that money had to go, now, and the future seemed dimmer because of it - -because it was gone, and because of why it was gone.

"Jen," he said quietly. "J – Jen," he stuttered louder, trying to get her attention.

"What, Daddy?" she asked, her face buried in Natalie's hair. She rested her cheek on the baby's head and smiled a little sadly. "What?" she repeated softly.

He swallowed hard; his tongue felt heavy, his words thick – like molasses, or better yet, like curdled milk. He stared at the palms of his hands, worn rough and callous by constant blue collar work, and he forced himself to look at her.

"Ma's sick," he told her hoarsely.

Jenny blinked, letting Natalie stand up in her lap – she held her arms out instinctively so she'd catch the little girl if she lost her balance.

"She's always sick," Jenny noted – it was true; coughs, bronchitis, pneumonia; Ann's good health had seemed to deteriorate, but she was getting older.

Gibbs shook his head.

"She's sick, Jen," he repeated. "She's gonna need – she's real sick."

He paused.

"She's got lung cancer."

Jenny caught her breath in her throat. She froze, and then doubled over slightly, as if she'd been punched in the gut.

"Cancer?" she whispered.

Natalie stumbled and almost flipped right out of Jenny's arms. Gibbs caught her easily – it was a pleasant distraction - -but Natalie shrieked in fear all the same, and the noise ripped through Jenny's ears like a siren song; she flinched, closed her eyes – and no matter how tightly she squeezed them shut, his words didn't go away, and she couldn't keep from crying.

Gibbs looked at Natalie, and tried not to do the same.

Jenny put her face in her hands.

"You let me sit here and talk about a fucking class," she swore hoarsely, forgetting herself. She looked up, eyes red and swollen. "I hope you know, Jethro – I care more about Ann than I'll ever care about my grades, or high school, or college – "

Gibbs shook his head, quirking his lips up a little.

"She wouldn't like to hear that."

"It's true," Jenny said fiercely. "She's my hero. She's – she's – "

Ann Gibbs had done so much for her – helped with Natalie, offered kind advice, gentle words, an accepting and loving place to take refuse from curious eyes and disapproving glares and even the icy disappointment of her father.

"You're talkin' like she's already dead," Gibbs muttered half-heartedly.

"How bad?" Jenny asked.

Gibbs heaved his shoulders, lifting his chin as Natalie stood and stepped up to him, putting her arms around his neck and reaching around to play with the tag on his shirt.

"Treatment might help," he said. "It's expensive," he added. His mother had told him quietly – while he was putting Natalie to sleep a few nights ago – that she had to go to Philadelphia for some tests and medicine – and it was then that he'd forced the truth out of her; lung cancer, and though she said it was a recent diagnosis, Gibbs couldn't shake the feeling that this had been kept from him.

"I had some money for us," he said hoarsely. "Me'n'you and Bug, when you graduate. But Ma – "

Jenny grasped his hand.

"You take care of your mother," she said, meeting his eyes with passionate sincerity. "I won't dare let you – I can survive here, Jethro," she told him. She licked her lips. "I will get a job to help pay for her treatments!"

"Jen, you can't do that," he said, exasperated – frustrated.

He knew she'd want to help, he knew – and maybe, that's why he hadn't told her yet; or maybe, he just thought if he didn't say anything, it wouldn't be real.

She gave a manic sort of laugh.

"You're right," she gasped, "because your mother is the only person who watches Natalie for me." She licked her lips and looked at the baby, and reached out to rub her back. "Ann has been my angel, Jethro," she growled. "I'll be damned if I don't find a way to help."

Gibbs rested his chin lightly on Natalie's little shoulder, and cracked a small, defeated smile. He didn't know how to feel – he was glad Jenny cared so much, but he was terrified of losing his mother. He wanted to tell himself treatment would work, but Jenny's words were ringing in his ears –

It's going to get harder first.

Natalie blew a kiss on his neck, and he felt jolted into reality. He cleared his throat.

"This was s'pose to be an escape," he said heavily.

Jenny swallowed hard, and stood, squaring her shoulders – she'd be the strong, sure one for now.

"I know a ride we can take her on," she said confidently, though her voice wavered and cracked a little.

Gibbs got up and followed, Natalie swiveling with interest in his arms. Jenny weaved through people, and led them to a Ferris wheel, where she turned up her eyes at the man controlling it demurely.

"I know you need to be a certain height," she crooned, "but my baby girl wants to touch the stars."

A little charmed, the man didn't put up a fight; he let Jenny and Gibbs take Natalie onto the Ferris wheel, and Gibbs held her tight as they started to drift upwards – towards the skies. Jenny held the bear in her lap blithely, watching Natalie's face light up in wonder.

She moved closer to Gibbs. She took a deep breath.

"Jethro," she whispered. "I'm going to take care of you," she said to him – like he'd told her, when she was scared out of her mind, terrified of what she'd do with a baby. "I'm going to be right here."

He turned to press a kiss to her lips, thanking her silently – he needed her; he couldn't stand this place without her, he couldn't stand watching his mother suffer – he needed Jenny to tell him he wasn't going to lose her.

He didn't say anything at all, and she said nothing more. She leaned into him, watching the stars.

"Bear," Natalie said, yanking it from Jenny.

Gibbs made sure it wouldn't fall from the height, and Natalie buried her face in it.

"Whatcha gonna name 'im, Bug?" Gibbs asked softly.

Natalie looked up at him innocently.

"Bear," she said smartly.

He ruffled her hair – and while Jenny stared over the landscape, her chest aching, wondering if this view was the most Natalie would ever see of the world, Gibbs prayed that her life would always be simple as naming a big stuffed bear – Bear.

---

It was late, and maybe Natalie was just restless – but her fussiness was unusual for a child of her age, so after a few attempts at coaxing the baby back to sleep only to have her wake up whining or crying again, Jenny sighed and carried her downstairs.

"I'll take your temperature," she muttered to no one in particular. "I don't think you have a fever." She took the last few steps carefully. "Did you have a nightmare?" she murmured. "Hmm? Something scary?" She kept stroking the whimpering child's hair, trying to quiet her. "Mommy's having nightmares," she mumbled dryly.

She sighed and navigated to the kitchen without turning lights on.

"Thermometer," she muttered to herself. "Water – you want water or milk, sweetheart?"

She entered the kitchen, and was surprised to find the light over the oven on – it cast the room in a dull, washed-out glow – and her father standing at the counter, making a sandwich. She stopped in her tracks, and he looked up.

"Late night," he grunted, without provocation. "Can't sleep."

She arched a brow – that was chatty, for the Chief.

"You're not the only one," Jenny muttered, shifting Natalie up on her hip.

Natalie continued to whine half-heartedly.

"She sick again?"

"Maybe her ear infection is back," Jenny said, shrugging. She yawned. "I think she's just hot and stuffy. That window unit in her room isn't working." She sat Natalie on the counter and brushed her hair back. "Are you hot, Bug?" she asked, pursing her lips sympathetically. "Summer is sticky, sticky, sticky," she sighed.

She picked her up again, and went to a drawer, rummaging for a thermometer. Natalie thrust out her hands.

"No," she whined stubbornly. "No stick."

"Oh, hush," Jenny retorted mildly, stifling another yawn. "It won't hurt. We'll just do under your arm," she promised.

To her surprise, Natalie was suddenly lifted from her arms.

"I got it," her father said gruffly. "Go back to bed, Jennifer."

She stood there staring at him like he had two heads, watching as he easily held Natalie on his hip, effortlessly got her to hold the thermometer under her arm, and picked up to take a bite of his late night snack with his free hand.

Jenny thought about pinching herself – was she in an alternate dimension? In what world did her father voluntarily offer to take some of the weight off her shoulders? Sure – he'd helped in absolute emergencies, and if she got really desperate, he'd silently acquiesce if she asked for help, but never – he never did things like this.

"Dad – "

"You need sleep," he grunted. "You've got to pass that test this week." He took the thermometer from Natalie's arm and frowned at it. "Little high," he judged. He shook his head, glancing over at Jenny. "You were never sick," he told her bluntly. "Leroy must have given her some weak genes."

The words felt icy – not because he meant them to, but because the mention of Gibbs, and family sickness, suddenly terrified her. Cancer wasn't genetic – but she was doing all she could not to think about Ann.

"I know you'd be doin' better in that class if you hadn't taken so many days for her," Jasper Shepard said finally, setting the thermometer down and opening a cabinet to grab some baby Tylenol.

Jenny folded her arms and watched him for a moment.

"Well, I – I was so tired, when I had time to study," she began.

He nodded, waving his hand.

"Here," she said suddenly, coming forward. "She'll fight you on that unless you tell her a story."

"Tell her a story?" snorted Jasper.

Jenny smiled a little.

"You know – that it's magic plum juice, to make her fly…or a special potion to make her smell good to unicorns."

The Chief blinked at his daughter, at a loss.

"What happens when she doesn't fly?" he asked logically.

Jenny took the medicine for him and poured the correct dosage into the little cap, holding it up dramatically for Natalie.

"She's not even two, Dad, her brain doesn't work like that," she said softly. "Okay Bug, what we've got here is," she paused, giving her father a pointed look.

"It's, uh," he cleared his throat seriously. "Enchanted…wine."

Jenny stared at him.

"Really, Dad?"

"Sparkling…grape juice," he corrected, "that gives you…visions of sugar…plums."

Jenny rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh, and got Natalie to swallow the small dose. The little girl made a face, and Jenny kissed her cheek, and shot a look up at her father.

"Out of practice?" she asked.

He gave her an intent look.

"Until you were three, I was never home for more than two months at a time," he said.

She tilted her head.

"I didn't know that," she said with interest.

He shrugged. She'd been too young to remember. He turned and busied himself getting a sippy cup of water for his granddaughter – his food could wait.

"Jennifer," he said again. "'M serious. Go to bed. Or study."

She stepped forward abruptly and leaned on the counter.

"Daddy, I need to talk to you about something," she said spontaneously.

It was after midnight, both too late and early for deep conversations – or, depending on who you asked, just the right time. She swallowed hard when he looked at her, because she didn't know she'd had the strength to do this.

He narrowed his eyes warily.

"You're not pregnant again, are you?" he asked dully.

She almost choked.

"God, no!" she exclaimed. "Between school and Natalie and Gibbs' work you think I've had time to – " she broke off, and flushed crimson. "No," she said, calming herself.

She licked her lips, her eyes on Natalie.

"I don't think I'm going to finish school," Jenny said in a rush – there was no other way to do it. "Hear me out," she added desperately, before he even said anything.

Her father gave her a long look, his face unreadable.

"You graduate in three weeks," he said finally. "Three – "

"Maybe! Who knows! They won't confirm me for it! I don't see myself passing Calculus, Dad," she said desperately. It hurt her physically to say these words. "I'm already short the science credit I never recovered. I don't want to stay another year, but I can get my high school equivalency – "

"Three weeks, Jennifer," he interrupted sharply. "You can't give up now."

She licked her lips, her heart skipping a few beats.

"I need to work," she said quietly. "Full time."

Her father looked baffled.

"Where is this coming from?" he asked tensely.

She floundered for a moment, and her eyes welled up.

"Ann Gibbs is sick," she said shakily. "Lung cancer – you know they can't afford medical bills like that."

"Leroy never should have asked you – "

"He didn't," she interrupted earnestly. "He never would – Daddy, she's my family too, she's Natalie's grandmother. I need to help, I need to – "

"Jennifer," he interrupted carefully.

Natalie shifted, and laid her head sleepily on his shoulder.

"Ann is dying," he said grimly.

Jenny closed her eyes. That was so like him, so pessimistic – but something about the way he said it infuriated her.

"You knew," she guessed. "You knew – before Jethro knew?"

Her father gave a curt nod.

"Jackson has been taking her to doctor's appointments for damn near a year," he growled. "I didn't agree with them trying to keep it from their boy, but Jack thought they could fix it."

"She needs Chemo, Daddy, that doesn't mean – "

"Jenny," he said quietly, shaking his head. "That woman is dying. You can see it in her eyes. The last thing she'd want is you quittin' school to waste money on a lost cause. You got Natalie to think about."

"You don't know it's a lost cause! You're not a doctor!" Jenny burst out. Natalie startled and sat up, her blue eyes wide. Jasper shushed her, and gently pressed her head against his shoulder. Jenny tried to compose herself, but her voice cracked. "Dad, she can't die. If I can help them pay, they'll have more options…"

Even as she tried to argue, she understood that there was nothing she could do. She knew that Ann hadn't recently gotten sick; it all made sense now – she'd had bad coughs since before Natalie was born, and they'd attributed it to smoking. She'd been sick all winter, but they'd been focused on Natalie.

Jenny covered her face, and shoved her hair back.

"Does Jethro know how bad it is?" she asked weakly.

Her father lifted his shoulders – he didn't know. If he had to guess, he'd guess Jackson Gibb wasn't being forthright with Leroy, and that didn't sit well with Jasper. It wasn't his place to interfere, though – not unless it started to affect Jennifer's wellbeing.

"You can pass your math final," he told her seriously. "I know you can, Jenny," he emphasized. "If I have to – if I have to take leave, to watch Natalie while you study, you will pass that final."

Her eyes widened.

"You'll graduate," he said. "You'll walk, and you'll finish that science credit in the summer," he said firmly.

"Dad," she rasped.

He gave her a look of finality – she had come this far; he was going to keep her in school. He was going to see her graduate, after all of this – and he knew that's what Ann Gibbs wanted, as well. If she had thought, for a second, she could use this as a way to give up, she was wrong.

"Shepards don't quit," he told her.

"And then?" she asked, her eyes stinging. "After I graduate? Where can I work? What will I do?"

The Chief took a deep breath.

"I said I'd put in a word for Leroy with the police departments around the area," he said. "I mean it, this time."

She said nothing, and he inclined his head.

"I can get one of the dressmakers to get you a job," he added.

She swallowed miserably – one of the dressmakers; they always wanted help.

"Those old biddies, Dad – they gossip about me – "

"They won't anymore," he said sharply.

Natalie made a soft noise, and when they both looked down at her for a moment – she'd fallen asleep, despite their conversation. He seemed to struggle for a moment.

"I've been hard on you, Jennifer," he said slowly.

"You can say that again," she lashed out feebly.

"I tend to think you got the point," he said, a little sharply. He frowned to himself. "I'm not saying I'm letting you off the hook. But you had to show me that you were serious. You still have to."

"I know, Dad, I – "

He held up his hand.

"But I can ease up," he admitted grudgingly.

She felt like crying again – she waited so long to hear him give her some sort of praise, and maybe this was all she was going to get.

"My word goes a long way in this town," he growled. "If I want someone to give my daughter a job so she can support her baby, they're gonna do it."

Jenny arched her brows, slightly amused. Her smile faded quickly, though, because she remembered what had started this – she knew it was crazy to want to give up and chase a pipe dream of saving Ann, but she felt helpless; she wanted to do something – anything.

Her father cleared his throat, and shifted forward, gingerly handing the sleeping child over. He kissed her forehead tenderly and waited until Jenny had cradled her against her chest.

"Go put Bug to bed," he said gruffly, clearing his throat again. He paused. "Nothin' you make is gonna make a dime's difference in treatment for Mrs. Gibbs," he grunted. "You tell Leroy that if he needs time off to take care of his mother, I'll cover his child support for the month."

Jenny swallowed hard. She flew forward – as carefully as possible – so as not to disturb Natalie, and hugged her father. He patted her shoulder stiffly.

"He'll owe it back," he Chief said firmly. "But I'm not going to be responsible for making him miss his mother's last days."

"She can't die, Daddy," Jenny mumbled, holding Natalie closer. "She – besides Jethro, she's the only person in this town who never looked at me like I was worthless, after Natalie."

Jenny wiped at one eye, and took a deep breath, turning to take Natalie back upstairs and tuck her into bed.

"Jennifer," Jasper called, when she was at the foot of the stair. She turned to glance at him, and he lifted his chin firmly. "I do not think you are worthless," he said pointedly, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'm sorry if you felt like I did."

She saw that he meant it, and just for the night, it meant the world to her, and it made everything seem better – like his words were her own kind of – enchanted plum medicine, soothing her for a little while.

---

She passed her Calculus final with a ninety-seven percent, a feat that reassured her in several ways – for one thing, it confirmed that she hadn't gotten dumber since the baby, she just didn't have the right amount of time and energy to focus and study, and for another, it meant she was allowed to walk – she'd receive a conditional diploma, one that would be made official once she completed her remaining science credit.

Despite the fact that she'd never imagined herself being elated just to be able to walk across the stage, she wasn't bitter the day of the ceremony; she was proud of herself. She was excited she had proved she could stay in school, she was happy that Natalie was going to see both of her parents stick it out, and more than anything, she was glad her father was sitting in the front row in full uniform, holding Natalie on his lap in full view of everyone.

The only thing missing was Jethro – and his absence was not something she'd noticed until she was sitting in her spot. She didn't even care that she was seated in her alphabetical spot, when at one time she would have had a place of honor in the front row; she cared that she had achieved this, and she cared that people supported her.

She didn't see his face in the crowd – or his parents', for that matter, and it concerned her a little; she hadn't necessarily expected them to be there, not Ann and Jackson, but Gibbs –

She tried to quell her uncertainties about what his absence meant, and she focused on Natalie, giving herself confidence – she'd had this brazen little idea, as she was dressing the baby this morning, and she'd decided she was going to go through with it. This accomplishment had made her feel a kind of bravery that she hadn't been able to harness since she'd had Natalie.

She ducked out of line when they got close to the S's, and she swiftly lifted Natalie from her father's arms before he knew what was happening. To her surprise, he did not protest; he raised an eyebrow in wary curiosity.

Natalie immediately pulled Jenny's cap sideways and giggled quietly – when they called her name, Jenny walked the stage to take her diploma's place holder with Natalie on her hip, and defiantly refused to break eye-contact with the displeased, sour look on the principal's face.

She stopped in front of him, and did not hold out her hand.

"Natalie," she said softly. "Take Mama's diploma," she encouraged.

Natalie leaned forward and waved her hand. She beamed, and wiggled her fingers.

"Please," she said, pointing at the rolled up document. She placed her small hand on it, and Jenny sensed her principal was actually reluctant to give it to her – but relinquish it she did, and Jenny took it from Natalie, and held it close to her heart.

She walked off the stage, to join her class mates in their seats and wait for the moment when they could all throw their hats.

A couple seats up, Alison Flynn turned around and beamed wickedly. She held up her thumb in a positive gesture, and then blew a kiss to Natalie. Pleased to be sitting with her mother, Natalie waved back. Jenny ignored the stares she got from parents, and took a little comfort in the fact that the boy sitting next to her gave her an awed look and said:

"That was gutsy."

It had been – and she was glad she'd had the courage to do it. She had a baby, and she was graduating, and she wanted that image seared into this whole town's face. Not because she wanted to set a bad example, but because she wanted to show that mistakes could be recovered from.

When it was all said and done and Jenny was weaving through the small crowd to find her father, Natalie started babbling – conversational half-formed words mixed with the ones she knew well.

"Da da?" she asked brightly.

"We'll find him," Jenny soothed. "He's got to be – Dad," she called, catching up to her father.

"Wish you'd run that stunt by me, Jennifer," he glowered, reaching out to put an arm around her. He kissed her forehead. "Proud of you," he added gruffly.

She nodded, looking up at him.

"Where's Jethro?" she asked.

He frowned at her – but she didn't take the time to feel sorry she seemed to blowing him off; this was a big moment, and Gibbs had taken off work to be here. It should have been him holding Natalie in the audience.

Jasper frowned. He started to speak, but he was interrupted –

"Jenny! Ha, did you see the look on the Principal's face? What a tool – sorry, Chief," Alison said blithely, obviously not sorry at all. "I can't believe you did that; you're my hero."

Jenny smiled faintly.

"Thanks, Alison," she said warmly.

She and Alison had become less close – for no particular reason, except that Jenny just didn't have the same social life as she used to.

"Melissa Fielding is so mad," snickered Alison, "because her niece is switching to Stillwater High, you know, and she was here today – "

"Why does it matter to her?" Jenny asked, annoyed. Melissa Fielding was the only person who had stood firm and refused to hire Jenny at her dress shop – after a week long break, Jenny was starting in Deborah Henry's place, instead.

"Because, that little twit was with her, and she's afraid the niece's mother will find out and take her back – her name's Shannon – "

Jenny shook her head in disbelief – she highly doubted Melissa Fielding's niece would get pregnant just from seeing another teenager with a baby. The woman was like an adult Betsy Carmichael, for God's sake.

"Al," Natalie said pleasantly.

"Hi, precious," Alison crooned. "Look at you, look at what your Mommy did," she drawled, sweeping Natalie away from Jenny. "Where's Daddy?" she asked brightly. "Jenny, where's Gibbs?"

"Dad," Jenny insisted.

Her father slipped his hands into his pockets.

"He's okay, Jennifer," he placated. He paused. "Ann's been hospitalized. She had a respiratory emergency this morning."

Jenny gave him a terrified look, her face turning pale. Alison paused, standing still, and Jenny turned, taking Natalie back possessively.

"We have to go," she said to her father. "Now."

"Jackson said he would call with an update," Jasper said.

"No, Daddy," Jenny said emphatically. "Now – and with your police lights," she insisted fiercely.

It did not take him very long to see she wasn't kidding – to see that if he didn't take her, she was likely to steal his keys and speed off without his permission. He put his arm to her shoulder, gave a small nod to her best friend, and beckoned her.

She buckled Natalie in, and sat tensely in the seat next to him the whole way to the hospital – and it was an hour away, a fancier hospital with a nice oncology unit – the fact that they had to travel so far, in itself, worried her.

"What's wrong? How serious is this? Dad, Jethro doesn't think she's this sick – "

"That's his goddamn father's fault," the Chief said bluntly, "and he'll have to deal with the repercussions of that now."

Jenny fell silent until they finally reached the facility, and then she grabbed Natalie and went running. She followed signs in the emergency room, looking around in frustration – hardly seeing the odd looks she was getting – until she heard shouting.

"Don't take that tone with me, boy – "

"She's dying," snarled – Gibbs, it was Gibbs, fighting with his father in a hallway before the entrance to the ER. "You never said a damn word – "

"Lower your voice, Leroy."

"You made it sound like she had time!"

Jenny strode up, and Jackson cleared his throat. Gibbs turned to look, his eyes going wide – his face was tensed, flushed, clearly angry. He looked over her quickly, apparently confused, and then he swallowed hard.

"Jen, you graduated," he said hoarsely. He reached out to run his hand over her robe – she was still wearing her purple robe. "I missed it," he said, strained.

"No, no," she said hurriedly. "It's okay – I had Natalie take my diploma for me, you should have seen – that doesn't matter, Jethro, how's your mom? How's Ann?"

Gibbs didn't say anything. While Jenny's father walked up, giving her an exasperated look, Jackson cleared his throat again.

"It's her kidneys," he said. "They think the cancer has spread."

Jenny looked away from him; she looked at Jethro. He didn't say anything again, staring at her, and then he turned, keeping his back to his father.

"She's bad, Jen," he said finally, his words pained.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, for lack of anything else to say. "I thought … I mean, a couple of weeks ago – I thought she was just diagnosed."

Gibbs' mouth hardened.

"So did I," he growled.

Jenny stroked Natalie's hair down.

"Is she - ?" she trailed off.

Jackson spoke up.

"She's going home in a few days," he said. "This isn't it."

Gibbs whirled around.

"She's not a goddamn event, she's not a date on a calendar – don't talk about her like that," he lashed out.

"Leroy, you won't talk to me like that and you won't swear in front of your little girl –"

"You won't talk about my mother like she's disposable!" Gibbs snarled, raising his voice.

Jackson Gibbs' eyes flashed, but before he could light into his son, Jasper chimed in.

"Jack," he said loudly. "You think Jenny could go see Ann?"

Jackson looked at his son's girlfriend, and nodded tightly.

"They'll let you back," he said. "Leroy, you take a walk 'round this place – cool off."

"'M going with Jen," Gibbs snapped back angrily. He took Natalie and hugged her close, pressing his palm protectively against her back. "I'm not leavin' here until she's better."

"Son, you got to work – you can't just – "

But Gibbs turned and stormed off, all tight muscles and rage, and with a stressed look at the two fathers, Jenny went after him, her heels clicking on the hospital floor as she rushed to catch up without slipping.

Natalie pulled on his shirt.

"Da da," she whined.

"Jethro, you're scaring her," Jenny said, catching up and grabbing his shirt. She stopped him, stumbling forward outside a door. He turned back, letting his hand slide off the knob. "Easy, Jethro, calm down," she murmured.

She took Natalie back.

"Calm – Jen, she's had it for weeks, months maybe – "

Jenny tried to talk over him.

"Now's not the time or place," she soothed. "Don't – I don't know why your father kept you in the dark, I don't know his motives, but don't do this to your mother, just – just calm down," she pleaded.

He glared at her with his teeth clenched sharply, and it took him a moment, but he started to soften.

"She can't swallow well, Jen," he said, his shoulders sagging. "She was hurtin' so bad this morning, while we were gettin' ready – I thought it was appendicitis." He fell silent, staring at Natalie. "She can't go on a transplant list with cancer," he mumbled tensely.

"Jethro," Jenny said desperately. "You have to think more positively than that. You have to, you – you just have to."

He looked at her, his brow furrowed.

"I was, Jen," he said huskily.

She licked her lips – he meant: he had been, until it hit him that this was really bad, that the seriousness of her illness had been hidden from him for months, maybe longer – and he'd been too absorbed in his own life to notice.

She reached out to touch him.

"I don't want to lose her either, Jethro," she said.

He swallowed hard, and turned to open the door.

"She's the only thing keeping me here, Jen," he warned in a low voice.

She followed him into the room, hiding his words away in the back of her mind – it wasn't the first time she had heard them; before Natalie, before sex, before all of this – he'd always said if it wasn't for his mother, he'd have hit the road –and she knew now his off the cuff comment wasn't about herself, or Natalie; he was just distraught – Gibbs wasn't usually this emotional.

"Ma?" he asked quietly.

"Is that my girl?"

Ann's voice was quiet and hoarse, but she was sitting up in bed, a magazine in her lap. She rested lazily against pillows, and had an IV in her arm, but that didn't stop her from reaching out towards Natalie with a winning smile.

"What a precious dress, Jenny," she complimented. "Natalie, you look gorgeous," Ann said gently, waving at the baby. She patted the bed next to her. "Sit, dear," she encouraged.

Jenny hesitated, and sat down gingerly, swallowing hard. She let Natalie crawl out of her arms, and Ann pulled the baby close. She then leaned over and kissed Jenny's cheek, reaching out to rub her shoulder.

"I'm so proud of you, Jenny," she said quietly, tugging on her graduation robes. "You should be out celebrating," she said wryly, "not in here with sick old me."

Jenny reached out and took Ann's hand, holding it gently, but firmly. She felt Gibbs' eyes on them both, and she shook her head.

"I want to be here," she said sincerely. She nodded a little at Natalie. "I want you to fight," she added. "We need you."

Ann smiled sadly.

"Oh, my darling," she sighed, looking from Jenny, to her son, and then down to Natalie with a resigned, nostalgic sadness. She softened her eyes, and winked lightly. "You're stronger than you think – you both are."

Ann turned her attention to Natalie, and after a moment, Jenny got up and went to stand with Gibbs, snuggling in to his side – as much for his comfort as for hers. She watched Natalie chat indecipherably with her grandmother, and watched Ann lavish that calm, unconditional wonder and attention on Natalie, and she felt the bravery that had been with her this morning fade – Ann had always been the one to smooth the edges of everything and everyone since Natalie was born –

They couldn't lose her now. Not when they were just getting the hang of this.

---

It happened so fast, and yet as the situation deteriorated before their eyes, it felt incomprehensibly slow and agonizing.

Jenny stood near the head of the casket at the funeral, her arm brushing Jethro's. She couldn't watch them put Ann in the ground, so she watched him, and despite Natalie's antics – it was a blessing that she didn't understand, that she kept trying to catch the butterflies that flew past her – he didn't take his eyes from his mother.

He hadn't spoken to his father for three days; he'd taken refuge at Jenny's house – he was furious, lost; and she was coping through a haze of disbelief; she didn't understand how she could be so prepared for this – so aware, from watching Ann struggle, that it would happen – and still feel shock when she was gone.

Natalie struggled and fussed, and Jenny shushed her quietly; a small town preacher was giving a blessing, while the whole town seemed to bow their heads – Ann had been so loved by everyone that the quaint historic cemetery almost couldn't accommodate them all.

It should be family only at the gravesite, Jenny thought furiously. Gibbs hated being the center of attention, he hated pity and sympathy – she knew he was miserable in so many ways, and she didn't know how she could make it better.

It had been so hard, so unimaginably hard. His mother had never recovered from her kidney issue; Jenny – and Gibbs, and everyone – had to watch her get worse, had to see her sometimes have good days only to have awful weeks; Gibbs lost one of his jobs while he tried to help take care of her between Stillwater and bigger hospitals; Jackson drained his savings, and Jenny struggled to make up the slack of Gibbs' missing paycheck between working, being a mother, and being there for Ann.

Her science credit was forgotten; her diploma felt like a joke. She'd never taken the class to complete it – and she didn't know where she stood on an education; she hadn't had time to keep her multiple appointments with the school board.

All the fighting, the strength, the money, the hail Marys – and Ann died anyway, on an average Thursday in early September, a week after her son's nineteenth birthday, and two months from seeing her granddaughter turn two.

Jenny felt hopeless, and lost – as if she'd lost her own mother. Ann had meant so much to her. Jenny had refused to go to California this summer, refused to take Natalie away for a second, and for that, she knew Ann was grateful; she knew Gibbs was grateful.

Natalie gave a cry of unhappiness, bored and tired, and Jenny hushed her hurriedly, her cheeks flushing. A few people looked over – not with displeasure or judgment today, but with sadness; they interpreted Natalie's distress as grief, but Jenny knew it was just Natalie being a baby.

"Shh, hush," she cooed softly. She hummed quietly.

Natalie, unfortunately, began to cry.

Tears sprang to Jenny's eyes – she couldn't keep her daughter under control at a solemn time like this, and she was having a hard enough time staying composed herself.

"Bug, please," Jenny pleaded.

Gibbs turned and took Natalie without a word, his face unreadable. He tucked her head under his chin, muffling her whimpers, and simply carried her away, disappearing from the gravesite.

Jenny bit her lip and watched him leave, unable to keep her tears back. When she blinked, they fell – and she sensed he'd had all he could take. She let him go; she stood in for him at his father's side and raised her eyes to watch them bury one of the best women she'd ever known in this town.

Jackson Gibbs bowed his head and raised his hand in a small salute; the pastor's wife laid a wreath of flowers on the casket. Jenny closed her eyes, thinking of the last few days – it had been so brutal, so distressing to watch; with the sadness, there came a guilty relief that she wasn't suffering anymore.

After a moment, she couldn't hear Natalie crying anymore, and Jasper Shepard stepped up and rested his hands comfortingly on Jenny's shoulders, passing her a flower to lay on the grave. He passed her a second, a small one, to represent Natalie, and Jenny did her job mechanically, stepping aside and away as the procession thinned out, and non-family left the site slowly.

"Jennifer," Jackson said, his voice raspy as he broke his long silence. "Tonight, you send my boy home," he asked.

Jenny swallowed hard – she hadn't tried to push Gibbs to go home, or tried to reconcile him with his father; she didn't know exactly what was wrong. Gibbs and Jackson had never seen eye to eye, and this whole tragic story had just seemed to exacerbate that.

Maybe that's exactly what Jethro wanted.

"I can't make him do anything he doesn't want to," she said hoarsely.

"You know you can, missy," Jackson said tiredly. "He does everything for you."

She bit the inside of her lip, and folded her arms, unsure what to say – she didn't entirely know why Gibbs was feeling so particularly angry at his father right now, but she needed to have his back.

"He needs to come home. Get over himself," Jackson went on, starting to move past. "He can have a little more time."

As he walked away, Jenny turned.

"Jackson," she said clearly. She stood her ground. "I won't make him do anything he doesn't want to."

Jackson looked at her in utter silence, and then he smiled – he smiled as if she was clueless, as if she knew nothing. All he said was –

"He's still here, ain't he?"

Jackson turned, and left his wife's grave, and Jenny had to watch him go, unsure what she was feeling – but so sure of what he meant: they both knew Gibbs would have been long gone if it weren't for Jenny – and maybe, if it weren't for Natalie, she'd have a boyfriend in the Marines right now, instead of a hard laborer who'd just buried his mother.

Her father squeezed her shoulder.

"You want to leave Natalie with Gibbs?" he asked.

Jenny shook her head slowly.

"You go, Daddy," she said. She took a deep breath. "I'll see to him."

"You think he'll stay with us again?" the Chief asked warily – he didn't like it; he didn't like defying another parent, he didn't like Leroy even on the couch in his house, because sometimes, he still couldn't shake the annoyed grudge he had against the boy for knocking up Jennifer.

Jenny just nodded – she had a dull feeling of certainty that Gibbs wouldn't go home to his father's house anytime soon – if ever again.

She made her way in the direction Gibbs had wandered off, leaving her father – of all people – to observe the filling in of the grave. She made her way quietly, looking and listening – and then abruptly, she found him.

He was sitting down in the dirt among the roots of a tree, Natalie pressed tightly against his chest – hugged to him like life support. His forehead rested on her little shoulder, and she sat in his lap with her cheek against his head, looking up at Jenny silently.

Jenny crouched down quietly, reaching out to stroke Natalie's cheek.

"Hey there, Bug," she said softly. "Are you taking care of Daddy?" she asked, clicking her tongue soothingly. She leaned forward to kiss Gibbs' shoulder gently. "Hmm? Is Daddy okay?"

Gibbs barely moved, but his muscles were tight in the shouldesr, tense and immoveable. She went to her knees, ignoring the dirt on her dress, and reached out, slipping one arm around him. She closed her eyes and kissed his shoulder again.

Natalie lifted her head.

"Da da," she said in her high-pitched voice. "Da da, sad," she said.

"I know, honey," Jenny murmured, meeting her eyes. "Can you make him feel better?" she asked. "You tell him you love him so much?"

Natalie turned her head and nudged her nose against Gibbs. She stuck her tongue out and touched it to his ear, then veered back and giggled.

"Dah-dee," she pronounced clearly – Jenny didn't think she'd ever said 'Daddy' before – just Da da. "Uhv-ohh," she cooed. She nudged him again, wriggling. "Uhv-oo!"

Jenny smiled at her. She put her hand behind Gibbs' head and massaged the nape of his neck soothingly.

"I love you, Jethro," she told him. "I haven't said it in a while," she admitted softly, "but I do."

He finally lifted his head – and she had to exercise a lot of self-control not to cringe, to draw back – she'd never seen Gibbs so upset, and it scared her; she'd never seen him look so distraught, so completely lost.

"It should have been him," he said finally, his voice raw.

Jenny's eyes flickered; she caught her breath.

"Jethro," she admonished.

"Don't, Jen, just – "

"No, you don't," she said sharply. "Don't wish death on your father," she told him. "I know you're – I don't care how angry you are," she said seriously. "He's not the worst father there ever was."

"He killed her."

"Why do you think that, Jethro," she asked, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice – she swallowed hard, steadying herself. "She had cancer. It wasn't – "

"He didn't get her treatment in time!" Gibbs burst out. He startled Natalie, and she shrank away. He lowered his voice and shushed her, before turning his face to Jenny. "I heard him apologize to her for not believing something was wrong – and then he turned things down," he lashed out. "He didn't tell me – how bad she was. He didn't do right by her."

"Treatment was so expensive," Jenny said softly. "And she … people don't survive lung cancer very often, they just –"

"He didn't tell me about her, Jen!" Gibbs snapped. "He – I could have been prepared for this!"

"They know how much we have to deal with. They didn't want us to – "

"I could have been prepared," Gibbs growled.

"Nothing would have prepared you for this loss," Jenny emphasized. "Jethro," she began, sighing. She played with some of Natalie's loose strands of hair as she tried to find words. "This isn't Jackson's fault."

Gibbs' eyes turned to steel, and she could tell he wouldn't believe her.

"He didn't do right by her," he said again. "He let her – she could have gotten a lung transplant, Jen," he said desperately. "It would have given her – two years, and he let her – he let her – "

Gibbs faltered, looking down at Natalie hard.

"He let her say no. He told her ... he discouraged her. He told her not to fight."

Jenny compressed her lips. She believed it – Jackson was a straightforward, blunt man; he faced the facts – and maybe he was wrong, in this case, but she tried not to let herself turn against him; she didn't need Natalie's paternal grandfather as an enemy.

There were a thousand arguments she could make, but she didn't have it in her to try and fix Gibbs' relationship with his father – she didn't want to make him face that right now. There was too much bitter history there that had taken root before she'd even come along.

"I miss her too, Jethro," Jenny said – it was all she said; she understood what he was feeling underneath.

He nodded, and shifted Natalie, laying her down in a cradle in his arms like an infant. He looked down at her for strength, because he felt like somehow that would get him through this – knowing that he still had his daughter, that his mother had always loved this little girl, and never resented her or bore Natalie or Jenny or him, even, any ill will.

He lifted her and kissed her forehead, and she giggled, and reached up to grab at his nose. He managed to smile at her – he always had a smile for Natalie. There were three people in the world who made Stillwater worth everything, and he had to remember two of those people still lived and breathed – and one utterly depended on him.

He turned his head, and looked at Jenny, his raw, red eyes boring into hers. He saw her study him intently, saw her shoulders sink a little.

"I can't, Jenny," he said finally, his voice hoarse. "I can't stay here."

She almost knew the words were coming – and the thing was, she didn't particularly want to stay, either; she never had. She knew what he was thinking, and that was hard, too – because he wouldn't be able to take her with him, for a while – and they'd have to recover from all this.

She didn't think she could beg him to stay this time, though; she wouldn't want him to beg her to say, and maybe they were out of options. How much longer would he work, miserable under his father's roof, to get a place for them? Things were better with her father – slowly better, Jasper was trying, so maybe she didn't have to be so scared to stay here anymore –

Without Ann, there was no one to anchor him here with gentility – with Jenny, he'd always planned to leave, run away, live their lives together forever. Without Ann, there was no one to be the peace between he and Jackson, no saving grace to fight the battles he and Jenny weren't able to fight yet.

He had to get out, or be stifled; he didn't want Natalie growing up around these people who thought she was a mistake or a sin, hearing Jackson Gibbs say backhanded things about her father – and he wanted to try to give Jenny something more than this.

He'd always planned on joining the military; he wanted to do what a man should do – take his family and provide, be on his own, and he didn't want to do it here.

"Would you hate me?" he asked her.

"I could never hate you," Jenny said shakily. "Jethro," she said. "I will not … make you stay, if you need to go. If you need to do this. But I," she paused, and her eyes filled with tears. Her voice cracked. "But I don't want to live in this town without you. I want to be with you."

He nodded, his eyes earnest.

"I'll marry you, Jen. I need some time but – I can make this work."

"I don't know," she said, so quietly he could barely hear. "I don't know what's going to happen, Jethro – I don't know what's going to work."

He looked at her like it was that simple, but she knew it wasn't – they were children. They had grown up, yes, but this tiny world they lived in was not the large world they'd find if they left, and she was afraid of what would happen to them if they got married when they were young and stupid; she was afraid she'd be miserable in eighteen years, a permanent housewife, trapped.

She understood, though, because she wondered, too – without his mother, whom no one in Stillwater dared cross or hurt, how long would either of them last here – how long could either of them be content, smothered by the small town values, by Jackson's unrelenting disapproval, by Jasper's pride and his hard-to-break old ways?

She collapsed against him and snuggled up, taking shelter against his arm in the September breeze, leaning over to tickle her baby.

"I want to run away," she said, her voice breaking again. It was ominous; it was almost a warning.

He nodded, and he looked over towards the area they were burying his mother, desperate for comfort, fervently wishing he was a kid again, that he could feel this grief without having to worry about the baby, or Jenny, or the future. He felt like he didn't have time.

"Jethro, you could be a cop," she tried weakly. "Work with Daddy – he's already got you that interview, for when you can take it – "

"I can't be around him, Jen," Gibbs said tightly – meaning his father. "I can't."

Jenny closed her eyes tightly, resigned.

"What branch will it be?" Jenny asked softly, kissing his shoulder.

She knew he'd always mentioned the Marines – but they always sent the Marines in first. The Marines were the ragamuffins, the rough bunch – the few, the proud – all of that. The Marines scared her; her father was an Army man, an officer – the Air Force would be safe –

"Marines," he grunted.

The word was so final. She swallowed hard.

"You hear that, Bug?" she asked, tickling Natalie's foot. "Daddy's going to be a Marine," she whispered tiredly, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Natalie cocked her head, and rolled over, snuggling up to Gibbs, reaching out to muss up her hands in the dirt on the other side of his leg. Jenny rested against him, watching her daughter – Natalie had not a care in the world, and that was a small, tiny beacon of light – a welcome comfort, knowing that right now, still, Natalie's whole world was simply that her parents loved and took care of her, and she understood nothing of their doubts, fears, mistakes – and uncertainty.

---

"Without you here, everything's in black and white
Without you here, I'm upside down."
-Eric Church; Without You Here

---

I think this sets up chapter 5 pretty well, but y'all may end up disagreeing with me.
as usual - i love your reviews so much, please keep them coming!

-alexandra
p.s. - Ann died because Ann dies in the show. Generally, in most of my stories AU or not, charachters who are dead still end up dead, give or take an adjusted storyline.