Esquinzo- thank you so much for your reviews! It really does mean a lot that you always take the time, and i'm so glad you're enjoying the story! :)

alix33- lol, can you imagine her dashing around in the last chapter wearing stilettos? Ouch!

x

Sunlight streaming directly onto her closed eyelids rudely awakened Jenny. It was too bright, too harsh. She tried to squeeze her eyes more tightly closed, too warm and comfortable to even want to consider getting up. When that didn't work, she tried to roll over, intending to hide her face in the covers.

Instead, when she tried to move, she was very abruptly reminded that she wasn't alone in bed. The realisation tore her from the remnants of sleep. Jethro was still behind her, her back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her. And Jenny froze. Her stomach flipped and clenched as she remembered the night before, mortification and shame flooding through her. How could she have acted like that? This wasn't her. She didn't get weepy, or reliant on a man. Not only had she cried, she'd done so in front of Jethro, who by all appearances now had absolutely no faith in her abilities as an agent or in taking care of herself, judging by the way he'd babied her.

She groaned. And froze again when the noise disturbed Jethro, causing him to shift and stir.

She'd hoped he'd go back to sleep, remaining completely still as she waited for some sign one way or the other. It would be easier if she could see his face, but that would have required moving, which would have required making it obvious she was awake. And that she wasn't about to do.

"I can hear you thinking."

Jenny stiffened. Of course he hadn't settled back to sleep. She thought about replying, but for once, she had no idea what to say.

"Stop overthinking it." Jethro's voice was low and gravelly from sleep, and he made no move to pull away from her.

"How can I not?"

He'd kissed her. She'd only just remembered, had been slipping into slumber the previous night and had only processed the realisation now. But now the memory of feeling his lips against her hair was at the forefront of her mind, and she fancied she could still feel the imprint he'd left behind.

Jethro sighed, shifted into a comfier position without ever loosening his grip on her. "Close your eyes, Jen," he said drowsily. "Go back to sleep. It's early."

Even if she had wanted to, the sunlight was still hitting her face and now that her body was waking up, what had been comfortably warm before was beginning to verge on too hot. She wiggled her arm out into the air, pushing the covers down slightly. Behind her, she felt more than heard Jethro sigh. "You're not going to relax, are you?"

"Probably not."

That caused him to let out a huffing laugh. Seeing as neither was going back to sleep now, Jenny bit the bullet and twisted around to face him, ignoring the way her muscles ached and complained at the movement. And felt her stomach flip as she registered just how close the movement had pressed them. Front to front, legs practically entangled, faces mere inches away from each other. She swallowed harshly. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Being nice to me!"

Jethro smirked. "You don't want me to be nice to you?"

"You're not nice to anyone," she pointed out, refusing to acknowledge the absurdity that was having this conversation while lying together in bed. "And you especially shouldn't be to me."

Jethro propped his head up on his hand, head tilted as he looked at her. "That make you feel better? If I were pissed at you?"

"It would make more sense to me."

His expression was entirely unreadable. "Do you regret it, Jen? Leaving?"

Her heart just about stopped. This was Gibbs. Renowned for avoiding conversations, for practically pretending emotions didn't exist. Since when did he have heartfelt talks? And since when did he start them? "Jethro…"

"C'mon, Jen. Talk to me."

Her heart was thumping so loudly she was shocked he couldn't hear it. She had made a choice, five years ago. Had chosen to walk away, to sever herself from him. She had been so convinced of her decision at the time. But now he was still looking at her, with those eyes she had spent so many hours looking into for one reason or another, and he was still waiting for an answer. She couldn't not give him one, not when they were lying together in their own little cocoon away from the world and he was still looking at her like that. "I regret the way I left," she admitted in a whisper. "I hurt you. I never wanted that."

"Why did you?"

They both knew what he was really asking. Jenny swallowed again, her tone almost pleading. "Jethro…"

His fingers brushed against her cheek. "What's the harm in the truth now?"

Damn him. She blinked fiercely, looking away from his all-too seeing gaze and realised she'd really already made her decision. "If I had tried to talk to you in person, I'd never have gone through with it." Her voice was so soft, it was barely audible. "So I wrote the letter. It seemed easier."

She thought he'd have something to say to that. But he just looked at her, waiting and there was no humour in her tearful smile. "You had such a hold on me," she murmured. He was right- what was the point in hiding the truth now? "I knew that even if I'd gotten the words out, you would have held me and kissed me and said all the right things, and I'd have returned to DC with you. And I couldn't do that. I couldn't throw my career away for a basketful of promises you would have never kept."

"Aw, hell Jenny." For the first time that morning, his irritation shone through. He pulled away from her, swinging himself onto the edge of the bed and scrubbing his hand through his hair. "You just decided we weren't going to work and that was that?"

"We wouldn't have!" She sat up too, allowing her own anger to shine through. "The simple fact of our relationship was that I always cared for you far more than you did me, and eventually that would have destroyed me! Whether you intended it or not!"

There was a resounding silence as he stared at her. "Where the hell did you get that from?"

He looked genuinely baffled, eyes wide and she scoffed, shaking her head as she shoved the rest of the blankets away, climbing from the bed. But she didn't get far- Jethro grabbed her wrist and yanked her backwards, ignoring her gasp. "Would you quit running away?"

Her voice was low and icy. "Let me go."

He released her as if burnt, hand falling back into his lap. But in contrast, he continued to glare at her, the muscle in his jaw twitching where it was clenched so hard. "Why the hell would you think you cared more?"

Now it was her turn to stare at him. "Why wouldn't I?" When he still seemed bewildered, she let out a humourless laugh. "I told you once, how I felt. You laughed, brushed it off like I was a schoolgirl who didn't know her own feelings. You called me your partner but questioned me as often as you listened to me. Whatever you felt for me, Jethro, it certainly wasn't what I felt for you. And I couldn't live with that."

"You should have talked to me."

She laughed, bitter and harsh. "Talk to you? Are you serious? The man who prides himself on communicating through grunts wherever possible?"

"You had no idea what I felt or what I thought!" His voice was growing louder and louder, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that there were probably others in the house listening to every word, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "And you had no right to assume!"

"Why not? I was right, wasn't I?" She met his glare head on. "Or were you not married less than a year later?"

Finally, she'd gained the upper hand. He reeled back in surprise, almost imperceptibly. "How…?"

"It's a small agency, Jethro. And your many marriages are infamous."

He ground his teeth, closed his eyes. "She was… a mistake. And not part of this."

"And that's all I would have been eventually. Another mistake."

Gibbs shook his head at her. "You're wrong. You could have taken the job and we would have made it work, Jen."

"You wouldn't have. Now, I don't know, but not five years ago. Be honest, Jethro!" The anger was bubbling and boiling just beneath the surface, both of them glaring at the other. "If I'd told you about it, you would have scoffed and questioned the job, and my abilities, and my ambition. You would never have accepted it, not really."

Hurt lanced through him. "You think that little of me?"

"Oh what, you'd have been happy for me?"

For a moment, he just looked at her. Wondered how she could really not see the truth. "Jenny, I would have hated to lose you from my team, you were a damn good agent," he said quietly. "But I would have been proud of you too. Hell, I am proud."

That seemed to stun her silent.

"You were never just convenient, or a fling." He could actually see the sharp intake of breath she took. Hit the nail on the head, he thought, and gently reached for her, resting his hands on her hips. "And definitely not a mistake. You were my partner. In every meaning of the word."

Her eyes were wide and wet, expression unconvinced. He couldn't stop himself from cupping her cheek, his fingers sliding through her hair, thumb grazing her cheekbone. "Shoulda told you," he admitted gruffly. "You knew me so well. Thought you knew that too."

She was staring at him, visibly stunned. Maybe she was still asleep. That would make sense. Because she might have known better than most the kind of man Gibbs could be when he relaxed and opened up, but that still didn't equate with the man standing in front of her. The man saying some of the most incredible things, who was putting to rest questions she hadn't even realised were still festering inside her, and who was the complete opposite of everything she'd been expecting.

"Who are you and what have you done with Gibbs?"

He tilted his head, faint amusement overshadowed by something altogether more serious. And the second Jenny noticed was the same second that she felt lightening flash through her, the air around them turning thick and tense as they looked at each other.

Here was the crux of everything. Both of them had made decisions, had chosen their own paths. Had ended up back in front of each other anyway, despite the unlikeness of it. Jenny could feel her heart in her chest, knew her expression must be telling the man before her a thousand stories. She couldn't manage to stop.

Any disruption should have shattered the tension between them. Instead, Jethro's low exhale only stirred it more. "Jen…"

Her fingers landing on his lips wasn't a conscious move, but one she made nonetheless. His warmth burning into her fingertips, eyes never leaving the others'. The heat in the room nothing to do with climate and everything to do with them.

His hand had brushed away hers and pulled her against him before she'd even registered that he'd moved. Now they stood flush against each other, Jenny's hands automatically landing on his chest for balance. Neither were foolish enough not to know what was happening.

Jenny's voice was shaky and hoarse. "We can't do this."

"Why not?"

"Nothing has changed," she whispered. "Once we have McKidd and I'm cleared, I'm gone again."

He reared back as if she'd struck him. "What?"

"I still have a job to do. And I intend on doing it. I'll be going back to the Middle East as soon as this is all over." Her calm voice was at complete odds to the storm inside her, and when Gibbs stepped back as if she had burnt him, she couldn't help it when her mouth twisted a bitter, humourless smile. "Where are all your pretty words now, Jethro?"

She couldn't read his expression. She had always been able to read him, but now… Jenny was actually grateful for the sharp knocks that sounded at the bedroom door.

"Jenny, Agent Gibbs, your director is on the phone for you."

Ziva's voice was bland and unemotional, but that didn't stop Jenny from flushing crimson. Because if Ziva was in the house and knew both Jenny and Gibbs were in the room, then she also knew that they'd both been here all night. And she knew exactly what conclusions Ziva would have drawn. She closed her eyes tightly, made sure her voice was carefully neutral. "I'll be right there!"

She avoided Jethro's gaze as she hurriedly pulled a fresh top out of the drawer, yanked her hair from the mess of a plait it had been in and shoved it into a bun. Messy, but no longer obvious she'd slept in it. Quickly slid her feet into her sandals, threw her cardigan on to combat the sudden chill that seemed to have penetrated her body. And then she was gone, vanishing from the room and leaving Gibbs still and silent behind her.

NCIS

The director wasn't happy. He had an entire skilled team doing nothing but surveillance on a different continent, another agent effectively out of action and providing painfully little in the way of meaningful intelligence and to top it all off, his assistant was out with the flu and so he was having to make do with a temp.

No, he wasn't happy at all.

Jenny listened patiently as the director ranted, murmured agreements when they seemed necessary and generally waited him out. Eventually, she gave up holding the phone to her ear, putting it on speaker and placing it down as she sipped her coffee. Ziva looked highly amused by the whole affair, silently cleaning her gun and when Gibbs finally emerged from upstairs, he quirked an eyebrow that clearly said he hadn't thought the director would still be on the line, before he fetched his own coffee and took a seat next to Jenny.

Both listening, neither noticed Ziva pausing in her cleaning to study them. Her head tilting, gaze taking in all of the nuances of their body language most people would even notice. The careful distance between them, the way Jenny flicked an errant lock of hair forward so that she couldn't see the man next to her. The way both of them had angled their legs slightly towards each other.

Ziva raised an eyebrow. Interesting.

Their directors voice continued to fill the room, and as Ziva watched, Jenny rose to her feet for a refill, taking Gibbs' mug with her seemingly without thought. Without any communication between them, without even looking at each other. Perhaps it was an American thing, she theorised. Or, more likely she thought, perhaps just a Jenny and Gibbs thing.

This opinion was cemented when, ten minutes later, the pair had apparently abandoned their previous agonistic attitudes and were silently playing noughts and crosses as their director continued to rant. Ziva was a little bewildered at that. In Mossad, they would have been punished if the director even found out he was being ignored in such a way. These two didn't seem to care, sharing a pen and paper and keeping a running tally of who was winning across the top.

Ziva couldn't help but be intrigued by the pair. Jenny had opened up to her, of course, about the man she had left behind long before their partnership had begun. The man who had withheld himself from her even as she had fallen in love with him, breaking Jenny's heart. For that reason alone, despite her friend's defence of the man Ziva had been fully prepared to dislike him, purely on principle. Until she'd walked in and found him watching over the redhead while she slept, and abruptly realised there was far more to the story than she knew.

Now, as their director finally wrapped up the call, Ziva watched them. The way they sat in companiable silence for a moment, before Jenny spoke. "So he's having a bad day."

And to Ziva's shock, the man visibly relaxed, chuckling. "Very."

Jenny leant back against the sofa, her soft smile quickly vanishing as she tilted her head back to look at him. "So, how angry are you?"

"Why do you think I'm angry?"

"Come on, Jethro."

Ziva heard him sigh. "I'm not angry," he said, and Ziva waited for him to elaborate, but there was nothing. She risked a peek at them, found them looking at each other, expressions impossible to read from the angle she was sat at.

"Jethro…" She heard Jenny murmur, and Ziva frowned. Neither had said anything, and yet both had visibly softened towards the other. Jenny was angled towards him, Gibbs raising a hand to brush against her cheek. Ziva saw him inhale, start to say something, only to be stopped by Jenny's shake of the head. They looked at each other again, silent understanding passing between them until Jenny shifted her weight and pushed to her feet. Ziva thought she was going to walk away, but Jenny paused, looking down at Gibbs. And then without warning, she leant down, gently cupped his cheek with one hand before a moment later, she pressed the softest of kisses to the other.

Ziva was even more curious now. Jenny grabbed her sunglasses and left the house, disappearing into the morning sunshine while Gibbs stayed where he was for a long minute, before silently rising and climbing the stairs, leaving Ziva sat forgotten where she was, mouth parted in surprise. What in the world had just happened?