Tag to "Kill Chain" (11x12). A decent portion of dialogue is taken from the episode.
This was actually the first thing I wrote in this series, that I originally intended to be a one-shot. I added more to it, changed some aspects of it, and polished it up as best I could.
Gibbs, Vance, and Delilah were in MTAC discussing Benham Parsa when the phone in MTAC rang.
"Yes?" Vance answered it, listening for a second. "It's McGee," he announced, holding the phone out to Gibbs.
"Hey, did you find the DoD investigator?" Gibbs questioned McGee as soon as he grabbed the phone.
"Not exactly. Before I could, she found us," McGee responded warily.
Gibbs paused, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
"I'll be right out," he replied, hanging up and turning on his heel to head out of MTAC.
"Gibbs?" Vance questioned.
"DoD investigator came to us," Gibbs informed him.
Gibbs swung the MTAC door open and walked out, Vance right on his heels. McGee was running up the last few steps of the catwalk stairs to meet them, looking out of breath.
"Boss, I had no idea," he rushed out apologetically, looking nervous. "If I did, I would've warned you."
"Warned me about what?" Gibbs asked, feeling baffled.
"About me," a female voice answered.
Gibbs peeked over McGee's shoulder to the source of the voice, where a woman was standing in the middle of the stairs looking at them.
"Hey, Jethro," she greeted.
Gibbs eyes narrowed, hardly believing his sight. He felt shock spread through him, and felt like he was suddenly in some weird dream. Out of all the people in the world, he never thought he'd see Hollis Mann standing before him again after so many years. Last he knew she had retired in Hawaii...so why the hell was she suddenly here claiming to be a DoD investigator?
Gibbs looked over to the Director beside him, completely blindsided to see Vance. He had lost his grip on reality for a second, expecting to see her. Anytime Hollis had been around before, she had always been there—usually watching him and Hollis from the catwalk when they were in the bullpen, failing to mask her jealousy. It didn't make sense for Hollis to be here and not have that particular Director breathing down his neck.
"It's not another one of your ex-wives, is it?" Vance questioned, pulling Gibbs back to reality.
Gibbs gave a small smirk at the comment, looking back over to Hollis who was making her way up the last few steps that separated them all.
"Close enough," he responded, feeling the same sort of guilt and dread that usually accompanied an encounter with one of his ex-wives.
If he hadn't been hesitant in committing to her, she definitely would have been wife number five, and she definitely would have been ex-wive number four. He knew they wouldn't have lasted, she would have just been a repeat of the same patterns he had gone through with his other ex-wives.
Like them, she was a person he liked, a person who could temporarily take his mind off of other things. Like them, she was someone he didn't actually love—someone he had essentially just used at the time without really thinking about the consequences. He was silently grateful he hadn't let their relationship progress as far as marriage, since it would've just been the same disaster as the others.
There were only two women he had ever been in a physical relationship with that he could actually say he loved and truly mean it. The two women who seemed to always haunt the recesses of his heart and mind.
Jethro was working on his current wood project in his basement, trying to relax. It had been a long day, plagued by endless reminders and memories of the past. He felt drained, and he wished his mind could just take a break. The case had been hard, he could feel in his gut that there was going to be a lot more going on with it, and having Hollis around on top of it all was mentally exhausting.
When he, Hollis, and Vance had all talked in Vance's office after she showed up, all he could think about was her. Not Hollis, but Jen. The last time he and Hollis had been in that office, it had been Jenny dealing with them—not Vance. Jenny, who had been smirking in her chair and teasing Jethro, finding the whole ex-wife Stephanie situation to be highly amusing. Her behavior at the time had been annoying, far too smug—but looking back now it made him smile. He missed it.
"Her last stand was to protect you."
Mike Franks words echoed through his head again, for probably the millionth time since he had first heard them.
Since that day, he had lost Mike too—another casualty in his life that felt so unneeded, wasteful, and depressing. The man who had investigated his wife and daughters death, let him get his revenge, and trained him. The man who had been there with Jenny at the end, saved Jethro from Svetlana, and made sure to be there for him after the whole ordeal. One of the few men who could say he had seen Jethro Gibbs cry—more than once.
Ziva wasn't around anymore either, having left the team a few months ago and living in Israel again. Ziva, who had felt like a daughter to him by that point. Ziva, who would always be attached to Jenny in his mind because of their history. Ziva, who had made the team feel complete—like they were their own little family. He hoped she could find what she was looking for, accomplish what she needed to accomplish, and find her place. He just wanted her to be happy.
"I learned from the best, Jethro. I want Ziva to, as well."
Jenny's words to him from so long ago made him hope that he had done all he could to train Ziva. She was a good agent, and he hoped she had left armed with all the knowledge he could have ever taught her. He hoped he had trained her as well as Mike Franks had trained him.
He didn't like the idea of not training his agents well, because if they failed it was all on him for not teaching them what they needed to know. Jenny's death was on him, because he should've known that she still hadn't been taught to accept yet, because he hadn't made sure she had taken her target out successfully.
At least Ziva was still alive.
He paused his steady carving motions for a minute and took a breath, debating if he should go hunt down a bottle of bourbon.
Hollis had tried to get him to talk earlier, when they were in the car keeping an eye on a suspects van. She wanted to discuss them and their past. She seemed to think he was silently brooding because he hadn't gotten over them, hadn't gotten over her leaving. What she didn't know is that he didn't feel the need to talk about it, because he had been over it the minute she left. It wasn't a relationship he had spent any time mourning over.
He wasn't silently brooding over their past or over her leaving, he was silently brooding because her presence was a painful reminder of the other woman he should have been pursuing instead of her—the woman he had really wanted at the time. The woman who had left him heartbroken not just once, but twice.
Hollis was married now, which made him feel less guilty, because at least she had found happiness. He knew he had been highly unfair to her, because she had never had a chance in the first place. He had wasted her time, and she deserved to be happy. He was a damn fool for ever getting together with her or any of his ex-wives in the first place.
He carved into the wood again, a wood shaving curling up and dropping onto the counter, resembling the number six.
Hollis had mentioned that it had been six years since she had left. When Jenny had come on as Director, it had also been six years since she had left him. In about four more months, it would mark six years since he had last seen Jenny again—only this time she wasn't coming back.
He heard the sound of his front door open, and listened to the tapping sound that meant someone in high heels was headed towards the basement. He thought about how Jen's heels were the ones that used to make their way to his basement, way back in the day, and even a few times when she was Director. He found himself bitterly wishing they were her heels again, knowing he would never again see her emerge onto his stairs, smirk at him, and then smoothly walk down with complete flirty confidence.
He knew who it was. He knew the minute he heard that door open that it was Hollis, probably wanting to try and discuss things again.
He didn't understand women and their need to discuss things to death. It just wasn't needed, especially when it was about things that happened in the past.
"The world as we know it is falling apart all around us—" Hollis said as she emerged onto the basement stairs and started to make her way down them. He clenched his jaw and continued to concentrate on the wood in front of him. "—and you're down here."
He blew the bits of wood shavings off of his work, ignoring her.
"I'm not at all surprised," she said.
He heard the sound of her placing some bags down somewhere behind him.
"I brought dinner," she announced.
"I already ate," he informed her, a brief moment of silence taking over.
"In that case...dessert." She came over to him and placed a bottle right by his arm, grabbing his attention. "Small batch. Very smooth," she explained.
He looked at the bottle and couldn't help but smile, feeling pleased that some good bourbon was here.
"Thank you," he responded sincerely, truly feeling grateful for the expensive and kind gesture.
Silence engulfed them again and he heard her take in a breath, picking up on the slight frustration in it. He started to mentally prepare himself for whatever she was here for.
"Its been a long time since I've been down in this basement," she mused. "I miss the boat. Kind of pulled the whole room together."
He put his tools down and took off his protective glasses, wanting to just get whatever it was out of the way and skip the tedious small talk. He turned on his stool to face her.
"What are you doing?" He questioned.
"I'm trying to make peace," she immediately responded.
"We're good," he said, not understanding why she thought things were so bad between them.
"Good? Really? Because it kind of feels like the exact opposite," she retorted sarcastically, her hands moving as she spoke.
He furrowed his eyebrows and then smirked, thinking she was reading too much into everything.
"What do you want from me, Hollis?" He asked.
"I want to apologize," she snapped.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"There's no need," he replied truthfully.
"Oh, stop that," she said with a frustrated sigh, turning away from him. "God, I forgot how infuriating you could be."
He couldn't help but laugh.
"Was that the apology?" He chuckled.
"No," she said a little more loudly, looking amused and facing him again. "No, this is. I..." she broke off, giving a frustrated sigh. "I liked you, okay? I really liked you. And what happened between us, it was good." He gave a slight nod as he listened. "It was great, even."
She paused for a second, and he silently thought about how he didn't quite feel the same way. Good? Sure. Great? No.
"But there was a wall that wasn't coming down," she said, making him shift a little, knowing exactly where this was headed. "Your past. And I could see what was gonna happen...how bad it was gonna get." He narrowed his eyes, listening and trying to understand. "Me, trying to...pull things from you, and you not ready to let go," she said, nodding her head a little. "So I made an executive decision," she took a breath, "I left..." —he suddenly remembered another woman telling him something similar at her Georgetown house six years ago— "...so that...we could remember the good," she finished.
He shook his head a little, a smile tugging at his lips, feeling amused that all of this still bothered her so much.
"You should've just asked," he responded, once again wondering why women made such big deals about everything. Deep down he knew that her asking wouldn't have made a difference, because he would've just pushed her away—he never had been good at those kinds of conversations, especially not back then.
She looked at him for a moment, before looking down at the floor and giving a small sigh. He had a feeling she knew the same thing, that her asking wouldn't have resulted in a better outcome. She shook her head and looked at him.
"I'm sorry, Jethro," she whispered, emotion evident in her voice.
He gave a slight nod of his head, not really sure what to say. He honestly thought he should probably be the one apologizing, but he had a rule against that—and honestly he didn't see the point in them discussing a past that was dead a long time ago.
She turned around and began to walk towards the stairs, and the other woman in that Georgetown house came back into his mind.
"Once upon a time I would've asked you to stay, and I wouldn't have taken 'no' for an answer."
"No."
"What happened, Jethro?"
"You made a choice."
"I had to do what was best for me. I still do."
And then like the bastard he was he had just walked away, turning his back on the opportunity that he didn't know would be the very last.
He bitterly regretted that moment, wishing he hadn't brushed her off and left. Hollis and her had both made the choice to leave him. With Hollis, it was the right call—they wouldn't have lasted, and it would've been a painful ordeal for her. He didn't believe Jenny had made the right call, and he hadn't been smart enough to do what he should have to fix it.
It wasn't right for him to let Hollis walk away, just like he had gone out Jenny's door, because he knew if anything happened to her he would regret leaving things the way they were. He owed her some kind of closure, and it wasn't like there were any expectations between them—she was happily married. She had brought good bourbon, and he decided they may as well have a drink as old friends.
"Hey, hey..." he called out to her, stopping her from leaving as she turned to face him again. He shifted on his stool and grabbed a mason jar, tipping the screws out of it and blowing the dust out, placing it beside the other one he had in front of him. He poured bourbon into both of them, and she took the hint and came over. She moved a little wooden bench he had made over to where he was and sat beside him.
He lifted his jar to her and smiled, trying to hold back a laugh at how ridiculous this entire situation was. He certainly hadn't expected his day to go like this at all. She smirked at his gesture and shook her head in dismay before lifting her jar to her lips, he in turn doing the same as he watched her.
Almost an hour had gone by, and they had been having a relaxed time catching up, talking, and reminiscing while they sipped their drinks. It was mostly her talking, while he listened, but he had a more enjoyable time than he would have thought.
He had asked about her husband, and she had talked all about him, his job, and how they met. The happiness in her expression and voice when she talked about her husband made him feel exceptionally glad that she had left him, and even a little envious of how content she was. They had also discussed work, his team, her time in Hawaii, and had been laughing about funny memories they remembered.
"—and then there was that one day, oh," she groaned, shaking her head and chuckling, "when we were dealing with that ex-wife of yours, and you had to face me, her, and Director Shepard—" she broke off suddenly, the comfortable air in the room evaporating almost instantly. He knew he had winced the second she said her name, and he quickly guarded his expression again, distracting himself with a swig from his drink.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.
He let out a frustrated sigh and opened his mouth, about to remind her of his rule. He had already let her first apology slide tonight, after all.
"I know what you're going to say, and I don't care. I always thought it was a stupid rule," she chided, rolling her eyes at him. "I'm just expressing my sympathy."
"For what?" He asked gruffly, glaring at her for insulting his rule.
"I'm sorry about Director Shepard. When I first heard it on the news all those years ago..." she trailed off and glanced down, looking sad. "I just...I knew it must have been painful for you," she said softly, looking back up at him.
He looked away and narrowed his eyes, trying to shove his emotions away.
"She was just my boss. Was a long time ago," he brushed off with a shrug, looking back at her when she gave a frustrated sigh.
"Don't give me that," she snapped, glaring at him. "I know there was something between the two of you before I ever came into the picture, I know she was more than just your 'boss'. I'm not stupid, Jethro," she said, giving him a pointed look, making him feel a little nervous and look down at the jar in his hands.
"Even if she hadn't pretty much told me, the looks you two were always giving each other...it was pretty obvious," she continued. "And she would always glare at me, at us...and you always seemed to be trying to annoy her and push her buttons. No one in their right minds would treat their boss like that all the time, not even you," she poked his knee, and he glared at her. "An ex-lover, though, someone you used to be really familiar with..."
She stopped talking and shook her head, chuckling a little.
"I always felt so insecure around her," she admitted softly. "She was intelligent and pretty...always dressed nicely. She seemed to always just understand you, so much more than I ever did. You two just had this way of communicating, like a silent understanding, and you both clearly were still into each other."
He merely looked at her, not bothering to say anything, feeling like no response was really required.
"When I left you, I felt like she had won, because I just knew you'd probably go running back to her, or her to you. I hope you both got to enjoy your time together before the accident," she commented, smiling at him sympathetically.
He lifted his eyebrows and looked up, shifting in his seat a little. He looked down into his glass, squinting at it, feeling pained.
"Didn't," he grunted.
"What?"
"Didn't...I didn't go back to her, didn't 'enjoy time together'," he replied stiffly, annoyed at the hoarseness in his voice.
There was an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds.
"I just assumed...I...I thought..." she trailed off, sounding nervous. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to reopen old wounds, I shouldn't have even brought her—"
"It's fine," he sighed tiredly. "Kinda nice to hear her mentioned," he admitted, wondering if the alcohol was getting to him.
It was silent again for a minute, both debating what to say.
"I should've treated you better, Hollis," he confessed, looking at her. "'M glad you found a guy who loves you as much as you love him, you deserve it."
She looked stunned for a few seconds, but quickly recuperated and put her hand on his, giving it a gentle squeeze before she withdrew it again.
"Thank you," she said, and he just gave a slight nod as he looked away. They both took another sip from their drinks, the air surrounding them feeling at ease again.
"Remember that time when," she started, her eyes lighting up with amusement.
After Hollis had gone home, Jethro put away his tools and the bourbon and then made his way up the basement stairs, cursing his old knees. He threw the sheets on his couch and flopped onto it, spreading out and getting comfortable.
The entire conversation with Hollis had actually been enjoyable. He felt better for somewhat apologizing, and was glad she seemed to think things were settled now. He felt bad that she had been carrying around so much guilt all these years when he should be the one feeling guilty.
It had also been nice to just listen to someone and talk a little, because it took his mind off the case, off of the bastard Benham Parsa.
The trips down memory lane had reminded him of so many things he had forgotten, and he couldn't help but miss the way NCIS had been back then...his team, and the Director.
He closed his eyes and tried to remember the image of Jenny on the catwalk again, standing and watching him and his team as they operated. The way she would smirk or raise an eyebrow when he looked up at her. The times when Hollis was around and she would gaze down with that annoyed and jealous expression of hers.
He smiled. He knew he should push away the nostalgia and get some rest before the continued hunt for Parsa tomorrow, but it wasn't often he let memories of Jen invade his thoughts. Shannon and Kelly were always on the back of his mind, it was something he couldn't help. With Jen, Mike, Kate, his mom, and all the others he had lost in his life, he usually just pushed away any thoughts or memories. It was too painful and distracting to always have so many dead people in the back of his mind.
He thought about the time Mike had first seen Jenny and snorted, practically able to hear Mike's voice again.
"Ooh-rah, Gunny."