A/N: So, here's the second installment. Unlike the first, the rest of the chapters will be broken up into different alternating perspectives. Each one will be labeled so as to avoid any confusion. Hope you enjoy!


Gibbs

Daddy, don't go.

Kelly, I have—

Please, Daddy, don't go!

The loud knocking on the door was so intense that it pulled him from his sleep, and when he realised it was coming from Shepard's apartment, he was so thankful she hadn't opened the door that he could have kissed her. It had been loud enough to jolt him from yet another nightmare, and for that, he was profoundly grateful. Finally, the knocking stopped as she pulled it open, and her annoyed voice cut through the silence of the evening.

"What, Derek? You do realise that I have neighbours, don't you? You're being rude."

"Then open the damn door next time. I need to talk to you."

Shepard sighed, and Gibbs frowned as he glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. Was it really only 21:00? He couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep so early. These long days and dark nights were definitely beginning to get to him. Shrugging, he turned onto his side, trying to get more comfortable, and when he heard his neighbour's raised voice again, he instinctively began listening.

"Look, I'm trying to enjoy my night. I've had a really long week, and if it's the only way to get you to leave, you can come in for five minutes. Nothing else, and we're just going to talk. Have I made myself clear on that?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Jenny. It's really important."

Rolling his eyes at Shepard's ex-boyfriend, Gibbs pulled his blanket up over his head, trying to block out the sound of their conversation. As attractive as she was, he really needed sleep in the worst way.


Shepard

Sitting down at her never-used kitchen table, Jennifer Shepard glared at the man across from her, wishing she could just ignore him for a few minutes and he would simply go away. But she knew better. Derek didn't operate like that, and it was wishful thinking that he would change now. She poured a cup of tea from the pot in front of her, one that she'd been looking forward to after such a long day, and as she took a drink, she raised her eyebrow in question.

"Well?"

"Jenny, I really think you made a mistake when you broke our relationship off. I love you, and if you'll just give me a chance, I can prove it to you."

Rolling her eyes, Jenny sighed as her phone rang, pulling it from her pocket. Though she knew she had to put on a show of irritation, she was so thankful for the welcome excuse to cut their conversation short that she had to fight to keep her smile from her face.

"Excuse me. I have to take this."

She stood, making her way into the bedroom, and as she answered her phone, she made sure to keep her voice appropriately agitated.

"Shepard."

"I hate bothering you at home, Shep, but we got another case. Found a severed arm, an ear and a tongue in the woods."

Jenny was so happy to hear his words that she made herself a promise to keep from yelling at DiNozzo for an entire day.

"Got it. Anything else, DiNozzo?"

"Boat load of blood at the scene, so that should make Abby's job easier, and by extension, ours. Thought that might make you happy."

"It does. I'm on my way. Give me about twenty minutes."

She figured it would take at least ten to kick Derek out of her house. Hanging up the phone, she made her way back to her kitchen, she pulled her hair up into a tight ponytail. She gave Derek a cold look as she reached for her cup of tea, draining it within seconds.

"I have to leave. Work just called. Why don't we finish this discussion another time?"

"Sure, Jenny. Sure."

Wait, seriously? He'd agreed that easily? Surely not. Something wasn't adding up. She began walking towards her front door, searching for her badge and gun, and when her vision began to spin, she frowned. What was going on? She'd felt perfectly fine a moment ago. She shook her head, hoping her vision would clear, and as she took another step, she stumbled.

"Jenny, are you okay?"

Raising her eyes in his direction, Jenny noticed that though he'd sounded concerned, asked the right question, there was something in his expression that she didn't like. It was...anticipation, as though he were waiting for something exciting to happen, and she frowned again. She was beyond dizzy now, lightheaded in a way that she'd never experienced before, and when her eyes met his, Derek smiled slightly.

"Jenny?"

"W-what did you do?" she whispered, shaking her head.

"Nothing," he lied unconvincingly, "Honey, maybe you should lie down. You don't look so good."

He reached for her arm, and she jerked away, stumbling into the wall harder than she'd expected.

"Don't touch me," she spat, her voice weak but adamant.

Her body slid down the wall, hitting the floor silently, and as soon as he was near enough, Derek picked her up, carrying her into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. Now, they would be able to have their talk with no interruptions.


When Jenny opened her eyes, the first thing she registered was that she wasn't alone in the room, and as she tried to move, her confusion only grew. Why couldn't she move her arms? Tugging on them experimentally, her fear began to skyrocket as she understood she was handcuffed, and she turned her head to the side, her eyes landing on the cool metal encircling her wrists.

"Finally. You're awake. Now we can talk, Jenny. You and I have a lot to discuss."

"Derek, are you fucking kidding me? You handcuffed me to my own bed because you knew it was the only way you could get me to willingly be near you?"

He moved closer, the back of his hand connecting with her cheek as he slapped her, and he glared at her, livid.

"Wrong. I did this because it was the only way to get you to listen to me. You're such a workaholic, Jenny. All you ever care about is your precious job, and everyone else can just go to hell. Well, not this time. You're going to listen to what I have to say now, and nothing is going to interrupt us."

Jenny rolled her eyes, tugging on the handcuffs angrily.

"Did you forget that I told DiNozzo that I would meet him in twenty minutes? He's going to wonder where I am."

Derek shook his head.

"No, he won't. I texted him from your phone. Told him you were running late. We've got all the time in the world."

Son of a bitch...this wasn't going to end well.


Gibbs

At first, he wasn't sure what had woken him. There was no loud knocking, no raised voices, but even as he laid in the darkness, he could feel that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. He sat up slowly, listening intently for any kind of sound that would give him some kind of clue, and as he pulled on his shirt, he frowned to himself. Even the Masterson's apartment was silent now, and it seemed that Shepard had finally gotten rid of Derek. Either that, or they'd gone to bed together and were now sleeping silently.

He stood up quietly, making his way around the apartment, checking for any signs of tampering, of attempted forced entry, anything that would explain this feeling of dread building within his chest. Nothing was amiss, everything as it was supposed to be, and as he glanced at his clock again, he sighed. It hadn't even been three hours since he'd fallen back into his restless sleep.

Just as he was reached to turn off the light again, his hand knocked into the empty glass he'd poured his bourbon into after he'd come home, and when it hit the ground he swore quietly. Now he was starting to sound like Shepard, dropping things constantly. He begrudgingly picked it up, placing it back on the table, and as he made his way back to his living room, he heard a voice.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me. This is not how I thought I was going to end up spending my night."

He frowned. Was that Shepard? It certainly sounded like her.

"Derek, I swear, if you don't let me out of these god damned handcuffs now, when I finally do get out of them, I'm going to turn your dick into a smoothie and feed it to you."

Derek laughed, the sound low and cold.

"You don't seem to get it, Jenny. You're not going to get out. Not until we talk. You can't break a metal bed frame, and you don't have the key. Now, let's talk."

"Fuck you," she snapped, her voice surprisingly strong, "You drugged me, you asshole. What makes you think I would ever willingly be around you again?"

"You don't exactly have a choice here. You're not going anywhere. Face it, honey. It's just you and me."

"I have neighbours," she reminded him.

"And do you really think any of them are going to care if something happens to you? Look at the Masterson's. They fought every night and no one did a damn thing. Not even you, and you're a federal agent."

"I called the police multiple times," Shepard said, her voice beginning to shake.

"And did it do any good? No."

As Gibbs listened to the voices through the wall, he reached for his cell phone, dialing quickly. Listening to it ring, he also tried to keep an ear on Shepard and Derek's conversation, though it seemed as though she was finished cursing at him by the time the emergency service dispatcher picked up the phone.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"I'd like to report a domestic violence. Could you please send someone quickly?"

"Can I have your address?"

After giving the woman his address and Shepard's, he took a deep breath as he hung up his phone, wondering just how long it would take them to arrive. If his past experiences were any indication, it could possibly be a good while, and he didn't think Shepard had that kind of time. Still, he'd done his part, and as he tried to convince himself of that fact, he ran his hand through his hair. He could let the police handle it. He could.

Nearly a minute passed, and finally Gibbs stood up, grabbing his phone as he did so. He had a plan, he just hoped it would work.


Knocking loudly on Shepard's door, Gibbs waited for an answer for no less than a minute before speaking, his voice loud in the silence.

"Shepard, I know you're home. Your car's still here, so open up."

As the door finally opened, Gibbs found himself facing a young man of around thirty-three, his eyes cold as he glared at the man in front of him.

"Who are you and what do you want? My girlfriend and I are busy."

Gibbs shook his head slowly, arranging his features into a confused look.

"Shepard didn't mention you'd gotten back together. Derek, I'm guessing?"

"How do you know my name?"

Gibbs flashed him a false smile, holding out his hand.

"I work with Jenny. Just started, but she's mentioned you a few times. Look, is she able to come to the door? DiNozzo sent me out looking for her."

He had no idea if Derek was believing his lie, but the look in his eyes said he might be. Finally, Derek nodded, and held up his hand.

"One second. I'll get her."

He closed the door, and Gibbs' highly trained ears could detect the shuffling as he unlocked the cuffs and shoved her through the living room, and when it opened again, she gave him a confused look. He knew she was struggling to remember his name, and he shook his head minutely, warning her not to use his real one.

"What can I do for you, Gerrat?"

"Got sent to fetch you. DiNozzo's looking for you."

Shepard nodded, her eyes locking onto his, and when he glanced down, he could see the angry red marks around her wrists from the handcuffs. He noticed that Derek hadn't even considered leaving her alone with him, hovering just behind her, and when her eyes looked pointedly to the hallway behind him, he suddenly understood that she was telling him to be prepared to run. She turned suddenly, swinging her fist around as hard as she could, smashing into Derek's nose with an impressively loud sound, and as he let out a yelp of pain, she aimed a well-deserved kick to his ribs.

Pulling the door shut before she ran, Shepard bolted for the hallway, frowning when he grabbed her hand and pulled her to his apartment, locking the door securely behind him. They both heard her door open, and she automatically tensed, waiting to hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Gibbs had to hand it to her, closing the door so he couldn't see where they'd run had been a genius idea, and he placed his hand on her shoulder, frowning when she jumped.

"Don't worry," he whispered, keeping his voice low, "the cops are on their way."

She nodded but gave him a confused look, still trying to control the shaking in her hands.

"How did you know?"

"The walls are thin," he answered simply.

At first, she looked confused still, then his meaning clicked in her mind, and she laughed quietly, shaking her head.

"Thank God for that," she said, "if God exists, that is."

A split second passed, and then another thought occurred to her, and she frowned.

"I'm guessing that's how you knew DiNozzo's name."

He nodded.

"Sounds like he annoys you."

Shepard laughed, nodding.

"He does. He's a good guy, but...well, you know the type. He means well, but he goofs off a lot."

Gibbs nodded. He definitely knew the type. A loud knock at the door cause Shepard to jump again, swearing angrily, and when he opened the door just enough to see who was on the other side, he gave her a reassuring smile.

"Cops are here."

"Fast, for once," Shepard muttered, "Maybe God's not holding out on me this time."

After they'd both given their statements to the officer, multiple photos taken of the damage to Shepard's wrists, and after he'd escorted her back to her apartment so she could grab her phone to call DiNozzo herself, Shepard was sitting on her couch, a boiling hot cup of coffee tightly gripped in her hand. Gibbs watched her drink it with amusement, feeling the need for a drink himself, and after he'd assured her he would return, he'd gone to his own apartment to retrieve his bottle of bourbon.

She eyed it suspiciously, as though she thought it were poison, and as he drank it slowly, she rotated her wrists carefully. His eyes detected the slight wince that passed over her body, and he frowned as he drained the last of his bourbon. She was clearly in pain, though she'd said nothing to suggest such, and given what he'd come to learn of her over the past few weeks and even now, he doubted that she ever would.

Maybe it was the way she'd trusted him after just one look in his eyes. Maybe it was his fascination with nearly every aspect of her life that he'd encountered so far. Maybe it was the alcohol in his blood. Whatever the reason, he suddenly stood, going in search of her bathroom, and when he returned with a damp cloth, she frowned, giving him a strange look as he knelt in front of her on the couch. He reached for her wrist, saying nothing as he began to gently clean the cuts encircling her skin, and each time she winced, he paused, watching her until he was sure she was ready for him to continue.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked finally, her voice quiet but still loud enough for him to be startled.

"Hm?"

"Helping me," she clarified, "You don't even know me."

"Why are you letting me?" he countered, raising his eyes from her skin long enough to meet her eyes, "You don't even know me."

She laughed, shaking her head.

"I guess you do make a fair point. You could be a serial killer like Ted Bundy or Charles Manson. You might have someone waiting to do your dirty work for you."

He nodded.

"It's a possibility."

He could feel her watching him, studying his movements, and when she shook her head, he could tell she was smiling as he began cleaning her other wrist.

"No, I don't think so. There's something about you...something hidden in your eyes. You're not going to hurt me."

"Could be lying," he reminded her.

She rolled her eyes, laughing bitterly.

"Everyone's lying about something," she said quietly, "It's a basic truth of the human condition. The only variable is about what."

"Cynical?"

She shook her head.

"Realistic."

As soon as he had finished cleaning her wrists, Gibbs moved from his position on the floor, and when she gave him a small smile, he returned it, nodding at her.

"Keep those wrapped up. Don't want them getting infected."

She nodded, and he made his way towards the door, turning only when he heard her voice again.

"Gibbs?"

He waited, and she took a breath, meeting his eyes slowly.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Shepard."


Shepard

As she sat behind her desk, Jenny tried to ignore the pain in her wrists, and when the elevator chimed, the voice of Anthony DiNozzo cut across the room like a knife.

"Shep, what are you doing here? Haven't you ever heard of a personal day? Your ex-boyfriend tried to murder you last night. You should be home getting some sleep."

Jenny rolled her eyes, twisting her pen in between her fingers, and as the elevator chimed again, revealing Timothy McGee, he looked at her twice as he made his way closer.

"Um...should you really be here? Are you sure—"

"I'm sure that I'm about to cut out both of your tongues if you don't knock it off," Jenny snapped, her eyes flickering between them dangerously.

"Sorry, Shep."

"Did either of you think to follow up with Ducky last night, or does everything fall apart when I'm not here?"

"Um..."

"Shit," Tony whispered, "I'll go, if you'd rather—"

Jenny waved his words away, only partially annoyed by his lack of follow-through, needing an excuse to get away from them both and their concern before it drove her absolutely insane, and as she made her way to the elevator, she glared at them both.

"Start writing your reports, and I want them finished by the time you leave today. No exceptions."

"On it, boss."

"Yes, ma'am."

"McGee! Would you care to explain to me why you just called me "ma'am" when I explicitly told you not to?" Jenny snapped as she waited for the elevator.

"I...sorry, Jenny."

"Damn straight."


Autopsy was thankfully silent, and as soon as she walked down into the cool room, Ducky gave her a warm smile, nodding at her as she hopped up on one of the metal tables.

"Good morning, Jennifer. Are you feeling alright given what happened last night?"

She nodded.

"Yeah. For once, thin walls are a good thing. They just might have saved my life."

He frowned, and she laughed, leaning closer.

"My next-door neighbour heard the noise and called the cops. He even got me out before Derek could really cause any damage and cleaned up my wrists."

Ducky looked at her seriously, moving closer and reaching for her hands.

"May I?"

She smiled.

"Of course, Ducky,"

He unwrapped the bandages on her wrists, examining the cuts closely, and he frowned at the damage she'd sustained, running his gloved fingers over them gently. She winced at his touch, making him apologise, and when he wrapped them again, he kissed her cheek lightly.

"Well, your neighbour's certainly got talent for dressing wounds. You owe him a thank you."

"Ducky! I am a lady, after all," she said sarcastically, her mock offense making him laugh.

"Not like that, my dear. You value your privacy and detachment far too much for that."

Jenny frowned, unsure of how to take his statement, and shook her head slowly.

"What are you saying? Why does everyone think I'm heartless? Tony, Derek, now you?"

Ducky shook his head, wrapping his arms around her as he moved away, looking at her seriously.

"You're not heartless, Jennifer. You're just a guarded young woman, and you don't trust easily. It can be a good thing, but you must be terribly lonely at times."

She shrugged, hopping down from the table and flashing him a smile over her shoulder as she walked towards the door.

"Not really. I like being alone. And as far as sex goes, well, you know the saying "If you want something done right", Ducky."

He laughed outright, shaking his head at her as she left the room. Would she ever settle down? Somehow, the Scottish doctor doubted it.


Gibbs

Four days after he'd saved Jenny Shepard from the handcuffs and he still hadn't seen her. He knew she worked long hours, knew she didn't get much sleep, but still...it was disappointing. He'd pretty much given up on speaking to her again when late one evening, he heard a knock on his door. Frowning (after all, he wasn't expecting company), he made his way through the living room, and as he pulled open the door, the first thing he registered was the red of her hair.

She gave him a smile, holding up a bag, and looked at him expectantly.

"You do eat meat, don't you?"

He nodded, making her smile more.

"Good. Because I've decided to cook you dinner as a way of saying thank you. And if you say no, then I'll be deeply offended and I might just have to shoot you."

He smiled, stepping back to allow her in, and as she made her way into his kitchen, she frowned at the sparseness of the overall unit.

"Don't you have any real furniture?"

He shrugged.

"Got a bed, a chair, and a couch. What else is there?"

"I don't know. A television, maybe an old record player, something. This looks like someone died and this is all that was left."

Though she didn't have any way of knowing it, her words were like a knife to his chest, and it took great effort to force his smile onto his face.

"I'm a minimalist."

"No kidding."

He watched her as she moved around the kitchen, frowning when she realised he had very few dishes, and she sighed, looking at him in annoyance.

"Come on."

"What?"

She nodded her head towards the door, and grabbed the bag she'd brought, waiting for him to follow her. When they were back in her apartment, she smiled, locking the door securely behind herself, and she made her way into the kitchen.

"I can't cook if I don't have anything to put the food in, Gibbs," she said by way of explanation.

He nodded, still watching her in fascination, and as she cooked, he noticed that he'd never really seen anyone cook quite like she did. Intently focused, she measured every ingredient exactly, pouring multiple portions out when they weren't up to her standards, and when she began stirring something in a large bowl, she noticed him watching her.

"What?"

He raised his eyebrows in question and she sighed.

"You're looking at me like you've never seen another human before. You weren't raised by gorillas, were you, Tarzan?"

He glared at her, shaking his head.

"No, Jane, I've just never seen someone who measures out ingredients so precisely before. It's odd."

She shrugged, cutting up the steak she'd brought, placing it into the large bowl she'd just been stirring, and he frowned as he noticed that she seemed to be slightly nervous. In a way, he supposed it made sense. She hadn't spent the last two months listening to him through a wall, after all. She finished placing the steak in the marinade, and when she placed it safely on the counter, she flashed him a smile.

"Would you like a drink while we wait?"

He looked at her skeptically, but when she pulled out a bottle of Kentucky bourbon from the back sitting on the counter, she smiled at the look of shock on his face.

"I do notice things, believe it or not."

He said nothing, watching her as she poured the bourbon into a glass and when she slid it across the counter to him, he caught it with ease. He noticed that she hadn't poured one for herself, and when he raised his eyebrows in question, she shook her head.

"I don't drink anymore. And even if I did, I don't drink bourbon. Tastes like paint thinner."

He laughed, nodding his head at her.

"It's an acquired taste."

She shook her head.

"Paint thinner," she repeated firmly.

Gibbs couldn't deny that he was immensely curious about why Shepard didn't drink anymore, but he was a firm believer in privacy. As it turned out, he didn't have to ask, because she preempted him.

"I'm not an alcoholic, in case you were wondering."

He shook his head.

"Nope. Your business."

"Still. Just wanted that to be clear."

"Crystal. So...a federal agent, huh? What's that like?"

Shepard shrugged, reaching for the cup of tea sitting in front of her, taking a long drink.

"It's a job. I've got two agents working beneath me that make my life a living hell. Most notably the infamous DiNozzo, but McGee has his moments of being challenging."

"Such as?"

"He calls me ma'am. Still. After three years of being told not to. At least DiNozzo doesn't do that. I'd be looking for a new partner if that were the case."

"Just being polite."

"Yes, but when he knows it bothers me, that's when it ceases to be endearing and becomes problematic."

She noticed the look on his face and frowned, standing up to check on the steak still marinating in the bowl.

"What?"

"You always use such big words, or are you trying to impress me?"

"Yes and no, in that order. Any ideas I might have previously entertained of impressing you went out the window when you heard my being handcuffed to bed."

"Wasn't your fault, Shepard. He drugged you, 'member?"

She nodded, placing the steak into the frying pan she'd been heating on the stove, and as she watched it carefully, she occasionally glanced over at him.

"Not the issue," she said, "You still heard all of that. Which means I'd be dead or worse if you hadn't, so again...thank you."

He acknowledged her with a nod, and as she cut into the steak, she glanced at him again.

"Medium or well done?"

"Medium," he answered without hesitation.

She nodded, scooping it from the pan with a spoon, and as she plated their food, Gibbs couldn't stop himself from stealing a glance or two at her, smiling at the sight. When he was handed the plate, he nodded his thanks, and when she led the way to her kitchen table, she laughed quietly.

"This is the first time I've ever used this kitchen table in three years. You should feel special."

"Honoured," he deadpanned, causing her to laugh.

God, he loved the sound of her laughter. It was beautiful.

He waited until she was seated to pick up his fork, and as he took a tentative bite from his plate, he gave her a smile. She'd marinated the meat in a rich garlic butter sauce and seasoned it with a bit of basil, and to say that it tasted good would have been the understatement of the century.

"Is it okay? The last person I made it for...well, they loved garlic more than the average person, so—"

"It's great. Where'd you learn to cook?"

She shrugged.

"When you live alone, eventually you get tired of takeout. So you either learn to cook, or you go hungry."

He stared at her, unable to fathom how someone could have tried to hurt her, and frowned. Derek was either very desperate or very stupid. Jenny Shepard was definitely not someone he would ever want pissed off at him. She was far too resourceful. She'd be the type to kill you and not stress over it in the slightest.

They ate in comfortable silence for nearly ten minutes and then when Shepard suddenly broke it, he nearly jumped.

"What do you do? For a living, I mean? Other than listen to the people who live next to you through the walls."

He laughed, smiling at her as he took a drink of the bourbon she'd bought. Just for him, he realised.

"I'm a recruiter for the Marines. Got out of active duty just after Desert Storm. Spend all day behind a desk."

Shepard smiled, taking a drink of her tea.

"Sounds invigorating," she quipped.

He laughed again, nodded as he took another drink.

"Very."

She pushed aside her plate and when she reached for her drink, he frowned. The cuts on her skin were still clearly visible even days after the incident, and when she noticed him looking, she instinctively pulled her sleeves down, slightly embarrassed.

"Hey," he said quietly, waiting for her to look at him before he continued, "it's nothing to be ashamed of. He's the one who should be embarrassed, not you."

She sighed, shaking her head.

"It isn't that. It's...people assume that I did this, and it instantly changes their perceptions of me. They think I'm unstable or—"

"To Hell with the opinion of other people. They're usually wrong, anyway."

Smiling, Shepard laughed weakly, and while it wasn't the carefree laughter he'd once heard from her, it was still beautiful to listen to.


Neither of them were ever sure how it happened. It began with that first meal as her thank you for his saving her life that cold night in February, and soon became a weekly event. Every Tuesday night, Shepard would invite him to her apartment, working her way through various recipes, Gibbs making his way through the bourbon they took turns buying, and by the time March had come around, they soon found they were becoming genuine friends, each asking after the others day and taking turns swapping out stories.

So on the evening of the 18th, when it was becoming apparent that Shepard wasn't going to make it home in time for their weekly dinner. Gibbs took it upon himself to cook, recalling a dish that Shannon had once loved, and as he drove to the Navy Yard, he found himself lost in thought, trying to make sense of the entire situation. Was he seriously driving out of his way at 22:00 on a Tuesday night to bring dinner to a woman he'd only become friends with a month prior?

As soon as he pulled in next to Shepard's sleek little black car, all the doubts were erased from his mind as he realised he was genuinely looking forward to seeing her. After asking where to find her at the security desk and being given his visitor's pass, he made his way into the elevator, taking a deep breath as it came to a stop on the proper floor.

Upon first glance, all he could see was her legs, propped up on her desk, crossed at the ankles as she flipped through a file in her hands. He stopped just in front of her, knowing that she was deliberately ignoring him, and as he stood there, he could feel the eyes of the young man across the room on him.

"Um...ma'am—I mean, Jenny? T-there's someone standing—"

"Yes, I know," she answered, not looking up from her file, "I'm allowing him the opportunity to run if he so chooses, or to look at my legs in these extremely well-fitting jeans. It's his call, really."

"Hey, Shep, you know you've got someone standing in front of you," came a voice as another young man came around the corner, a smile on his face.

"DiNozzo, your investigative skills are remarkably unparalleled," Shepard said dryly, rolling her eyes, "How in the world did you ever get to be my Senior Field Agent?"

"You promoted me, remember? After I saved your life on the Reid case."

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," she muttered, "Gibbs, I'm going to give you exactly ten seconds longer to stand there, and then I'm demanding an explanation."

True to her word, ten seconds on the dot passed and then she lowered the file in her hand, her green eyes dancing with laughter, a smile on her face when she noticed the Tupperware container in the bag he carried.

"Now...Leroy Jethro Gibbs, what has possessed you to make you come to my office so late at night on a Tuesday? Could it be that you've missed me?"

He shrugged.

"Got used to you."

DiNozzo was staring between them with a look of confusion so intense that it was comical, and Shepard glared at him from her desk.

"What, DiNozzo?"

"You didn't tell us you had another guy in your life."

She sighed.

"I don't, but even if I did, it's none of your business. He happens to be my neighbour, and we have dinner on Tuesdays."

"Why?" DiNozzo asked before he could stop himself.

"He enjoys my charming personality and company," Shepard deadpanned.

McGee laughed, earning him a slap in the arm from DiNozzo, and Shepard shook her head as she rolled her eyes.

"Okay, you two, go see if Abby has the results of that blood analysis. And then on your way back, check in with Ducky."

"Why?"

"Because I would like time to eat with my friend in peace, and I was trying to be subtle about kicking you out of the squad room. Now, go."

As they bolted from the room and Shepard began laughing, Gibbs decided that yes, he definitely enjoyed her company.


Shepard

Even if she had tried, Jenny didn't think she could have explained exactly when she first realised that she was, in fact, attracted to the neighbour who had saved her life the previous month. She supposed it had happened sometime over the course of their weekly dinners, but she was never going to admit as much to him. It was definitely better if he didn't know. There was no way he would be interested in her, after all.

Still, the fact that he had driven miles out of his way to bring her dinner that night had spoken much louder than any words she'd ever heard him say, and if she were being perfectly honest with herself, now she was more confused than ever. Was he simply doing it out of habit? Was he just being nice? Did he genuinely not want to eat alone anymore? Or was it something else? Was there even the slightest chance that he was beginning to feel the same attraction for her?

Sighing as she finally closed the file she'd been reading, Jenny picked up her phone, dialing the only number besides her own and her father's that she'd ever taken the time to memorize.

Hi, this is Heather. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

"Hi, Heather. It's Jenny. I just...I'm so confused right now, and I really wish I could talk to you about it. I guess that's really it. It isn't really something I can say at the office though, so I'll call again once I get home. I love you, and I miss you so much."
Jenny supposed, if she really needed advice, she could have always called Amy, but it was rather late, and she was more than likely already asleep. Sighing again, Jenny turned off the lamp sitting on her desk, laying her head down tiredly on the table. Resting her eyes wouldn't hurt anything. And really, even if she did fall asleep, it was safer than driving home tired. Much safer, if you really stopped to think about it.

She didn't know when she fell asleep, but that night, for the first time in two years, her dreams weren't filled with visions of bloodstained floors and of heartbroken screams. This time, they were filled with bright blue eyes and the scent of coffee and bourbon.


A/N: Let me know what you think!