A/N: Since I'm on bereavement leave from work, I had a little time to write. My grandfather passed away last Tuesday, and writing is the only thing that has kept me from losing my mind. Hope you enjoy!


Gibbs

Though he sometimes wished he didn't, Leroy Jethro Gibbs had always had an amazing eye for detail. Perhaps it was this or his impeccable memory that made him such a good Marine. Or perhaps it was simply his drive, that force in his very soul that refused to allow him to give up. Whatever the reason, he cursed his memory for the way it haunted him every night, for the way his mind was able to recall the scent of Shannon's perfume or Kelly's laughter at the most inopportune of moments.

In some instances, like the night of April 16th, it was a very valuable trait to have. He'd just returned from a long day at the recruiting office, dreaming about the glass of bourbon he was going to pour, and as he unlocked his front door, he frowned. Something about the air was different, though he couldn't have explained how or why he knew that, and when he heard the loud crash from Jenny Shepard's apartment, followed by a muffled curse in a voice that was most definitely not hers, he tensed.

Slowly releasing his hold on the door. Gibbs made his way closer to Shepard's door, pushing it open as he called her name, listening intently for a response. Before he had time to react, he was shoved aside by a tall figure, one that he recognized instantly from the slight squeaking in his shoes that he'd picked up on the very first time he'd ever seen him.

Derek.

But he wasn't really a priority right now. Before he could even think about dealing with him, he needed to check the apartment for Shepard. If she was there, if he'd hurt her, Gibbs knew he would need to act fast. If she wasn't, he had to find her and warn her about what had happened. He took a deep breath, stepping into the dark apartment, doing everything he could to prepare himself for what he might find.

Thankfully, a quick search of the apartment showed no sign of Shepard ever having been present, and as he checked his watch, he saw it was nearing 19:00. Surely she would be heading home soon. Then again, with what he knew of Shepard and her work schedule, it was entirely possible that she wouldn't be home at all that night. Perhaps that would be for the best in the long run.


Just as he was sitting down to his glass of bourbon an hour later, he heard the unmistakable click of heels in the hallway, and he made a mad dash for his front door, hoping to catch her before it was too late. She'd already begun to turn the key in the lock when he opened his own door, and he stepped out into the hall as quickly as he could.

"Shepard, wait! Before you go in there…let me check it first."

She frowned.

"Why? What's going on?"

"Your ex-boyfriend was in your apartment when I got home today. Slammed right into my shoulder when I came to check it out."

Shaking her head, Shepard pulled out the gun holstered to her hip, pointing it steadily in front of her as she made her way closer. When he offered to go in before her, she shook her head, gesturing with her gun for him to get behind her. Though his chauvinistic side took a hit, he couldn't deny that it made sense for her to be in front. She was, after all, the one carrying a weapon.

Silently, she moved through the now-open door, clearing the corners first, and as she ventured into each adjoining room, he had to force himself to concentrate on the situation at hand. She held herself with confidence, not a single tremor to be detected, and as he watched her, he shook his head. Focus on the situation Gibbs. not on the way her toned legs moved under the dark denim jeans she wore, or the way her hair swung in its ponytail with each step she took, or—damn it, Gibbs! Not now!

She nodded to herself as she finished clearing the bedroom, and when she returned to where he stood waiting in the living room, she met his eyes seriously.

"All clear. Thanks for the warning."

He nodded.

"Can't lose my dinner partner," he said with a smirk, "Who would cook for me on Tuesdays?"

"You'd have to eat…" she paused, looking at him in mock horror, "takeout! Can you imagine?"

"It's unthinkable."

"Barbaric," she agreed with a smile.

He smiled at her, and as she looked around the room, he was again struck by just how pretty she really was. Her eyes lit up when she smiled, and he would have done just about anything to make her smile at him again.

"Guess I'll need to talk to the landlord about his superior security," she remarked sarcastically, shaking her head, "It's like Fort Knox...if Fort Knox were made of sand."

He nodded, looking at the lock that had been so easily picked.

"Looks like he used a simple kit. Anyone can buy one. Might want to consider getting a deadbolt and a chain."

"No doubt. Don't know why he would have broken in here, though. I don't have anything worth taking."

Gibbs frowned, thinking. Somehow, he didn't think theft had been what Derek had been planning when he'd broken her lock.

"Don't think he was after anything but you, Shepard," he told her seriously, "Given what happened the last time he was here, I'd say he's pretty pissed."

Her eyes widened for a split second as she considered the implication of his words, and shook her head slowly.

"I didn't even think...oh, shit."

"Maybe you should stay somewhere else tonight," he said, unable to truly believe the words coming out of his mouth, "I've got a spare room."

She frowned.

"No, you don't. Our apartments are exactly the same. There's only one bedroom."

He shrugged.

"I don't sleep in the bedroom."

Looking at him as though he'd gone insane, Shepard shook her head, more than a little confused.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm sure I'll be fine. Thanks for everything, Gibbs. I mean it."

He nodded, taking that as his cue to leave, and as he walked to the front door, she gave him a smile, waving as he closed it behind him. He made it back to his own apartment in three steps, and as he poured himself another glass of bourbon, he found himself thinking hard, trying to figure out just exactly why he was so concerned with Shepard's safety.

It wasn't just because she was an attractive young woman, it wasn't that they'd developed a pretty good friendship over the past two months during their weekly dinners, and it certainly wasn't because of the growing attraction he felt for her with each passing day. Most definitely not. It couldn't be that. Could it?


The loud knocking on his door at nearly three am was enough to rouse him from his sleep, and as he opened his eyes, he groaned quietly. Was it seriously too much to ask for a decent night of rest? Making his way to the door, he opened it slowly, blinking in the sudden light from the hallway, and it took longer than he would have liked for his eyes to finally focus, landing on the figure in front of him in confusion.

"Shepard?"

"Can I come in?" she asked slowly, her eyes locked on the floor.

"Something wrong?"

She didn't answer, but he took that to be an affirmative, and he stepped back to allow her in, noticing that she still hadn't looked at him. He glanced at her when she closed the front door, leaning against it heavily, and when she blinked, he realised that she was trying to keep from crying. He led her to the living room, gesturing for her to sit, and when she shook her head, he detected the slight trembling in her hands.

"What happened, Shepard?"

"Lost an agent. Not one of my team, but...she died saving us. It..this shouldn't have happened. We should have been able to stop it. There was a bomb...she'd already lost her team, and she was assigned to protect the members of a peace conference. She...she figured it out, knew who'd set the bomb, and she...she tackled him. It would have killed us all if she...I should have figured it out sooner. She shouldn't have been there."

"You'd be dead if you'd been in her place. Then what would have happened to your team? They need you."

She stumbled slightly as she paced the room, and when she raised her eyes to his, he realised the real reason she'd been avoiding his gaze.

"Shepard, are you—"

"Drunk?" she asked, laughing bitterly, "Yeah, a bit. What's your point?"

He shook his head.

"No point. Just thought you didn't drink anymore."

Shepard shook her head, turning around to fix him with what normally would have been an intimidating glare. In her intoxication, it was more of a pleading look, and it made him feel strangely sad as he returned her gaze.

"Give me a break, Gibbs. I think I'm entitled to a fucking drink right now."

He nodded.

"Want another?"

She didn't answer and when he slid her the bottle of bourbon as she stood in the kitchen, she caught it with ease. Taking a long drink, she coughed as it hit the back of her throat, making him smirk, and as she downed another swallow much quicker, she shook her head.

"God, how do you drink this?"

"Told you, Shepard. It's an acquired taste."

"Don't..." she paused, shuddering as the alcohol hit her, "Don't call me that. Please."

She was trying to distance herself from work, he realised with a jolt, and hearing her last name was a reminder of the turn her day had taken. He nodded, taking the bottle back from her and drinking it slowly, not even bothering to pour it into a glass. He'd never seen her in any state other than total composure, even after being attacked by her ex-boyfriend, and he had no idea of what to say next.

"What do you need right now, Jenny?" he asked finally, looking at her seriously.

She was silent for a long moment, trying to make sense of his question in her drunken mind, and when she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Distract me. I need to forget long enough that I'll be able to get some sleep tonight."

He nodded, saying nothing as she reached for the bottle again, and when she downed it quickly, she gasped at the harsh taste.

"Got an idea," she said suddenly, her words slow and careful, "Twenty questions. I ask, you answer. Then you ask, I answer. Deal?"

He nodded.

"One pass is allowed," she said, "No questions asked about it."

She waited expectantly, and he realised that he was going to be the one to start. As he thought of a simple way to break into the game, he found himself staring at the necklace she wore, wondering where it had come from. It was a simple white-gold chain with a deep blue sapphire gem dangling at the base of her throat. The stone gave him an idea, and he smiled.

"Favourite colour?"

She smiled.

"Black. Versatile, elegant, sexy, slimming...it's perfect. My turn. What do you do for fun?"

He shrugged.

"I build a boat. Or I used to. Haven't worked on it in a long time. Only child or siblings?"

"Pass," Jenny answered, reaching for the bottle again, "What's your favourite non-alcoholic drink?"

"Coffee," he replied immediately, "Black. Favourite food?"

"Italian. I have a major hard on for cheese of almost any kind," she quipped, "Who was your best friend in high school?"

"Little shorter guy, named Tobias Fornell. Killed in action during Desert Storm."

She frowned, taking a long drink from the bottle. It didn't escape his notice that she no longer flinched at the taste when she swallowed it, and he fought the urge to smile. It really was an acquired taste.

"You ever killed anyone?" he asked, looking into her eyes slowly, genuinely curious.

"Comes with the job," Jenny said, swallowing her bourbon, "You?"

"Marine sniper. What's a random fact about you that no one would guess?"

She thought for a moment, smiling when she finally came up with her answer.

"I like to sing in the shower. Sometimes intentionally badly just for fun."

He laughed, and she nodded at him.

"What about you?"

He paused, trying to think of a way to answer her question, and finally he nodded.

"I saw Star Wars in theatres when it was released and actually loved it."

Jenny laughed, smiling at him warmly as he asked his next question.

"You gonna get mad if I ask your age?"

She shook her head.

"Thirty-two. You?"

"Forty-four. That your natural hair colour?"

She nodded.

"Yep. Got teased a lot as a kid. What's your biggest turn off?"

"Liars," he answered immediately, meeting her eyes again.

She took another drink before sliding him the bottle, and when he asked her the next question, he wondered if perhaps he'd gone too far.

"Ever been married?"

"Nope. No one would ever put up with me for that long. You?"

"Once. Years ago."

Jenny nodded but thankfully didn't ask him to elaborate, and when she suddenly stood, he frowned at the way she swayed slightly on her feet. He was on his own in an instant, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, and when she laughed quietly, he frowned.

"You know, if you wanted to be this close to me, all you had to do was ask."

She laughed again, looking up at him as she steadied herself on her heels, and he noticed suddenly that the necklace she wore had twisted around her throat. Without realising it, he had reached out to straighten it, his fingers brushing against her skin, feeling her pulse under his touch, and she jumped slightly.

"Do you always touch women without their permission?" she asked breathlessly.

"Figured you would have shot me if you minded," he countered boldly.

She nodded.

"Oh, I would have. You have my permission now, Jethro. Do I have yours?"

He was so shocked for a moment that he couldn't speak and finally he nodded, his eyes following her hand as she trailed her fingers up along his shoulder, hovering just before touching his hair.

"You're drunk, Jenny, I..."

She shook her head, giving him a smile.

"Hardly. Not anything more than a slight buzz. I'm perfectly aware of what I'm doing."

She raised up slightly, though not much because her heels gave her an advantage, and when she brushed her lips against his, he hardly reacted, too confused to move. When she pulled back, her eyes widened at the look in his, and she shook her head apologetically.

"That was a mistake. I shouldn't have—I'm sorry, I—"

She tried to back away, but his hands found her waist, wrapping around her and pulling her closer before he even knew what he was doing. Leaning down before he could second-guess himself, he kissed her slowly, deeply, his fingers tightening on her hip. She toyed with the buttons on his shirt, slipping beneath the undershirt he wore, touching his skin lightly, and his left hand moved to tuck her hair behind her ear slowly.

It was a kiss so careful, so slow and deliberate, but she could feel the hint of pure lust behind it, the fierceness begging to be released, and she moved closer, her body pressed against his.

"Never apologise," he said firmly, looking into her eyes as he finally pulled away, "It's a sign of weakness."

She laughed, nodding as he kissed her again, and when she finally spoke again, her voice was shaking slightly.

"I...I should probably go. It's late, and we both have to be up early tomorrow."

He shook his head.

"It's Friday. Technically, it's already Saturday now. Don't work on the weekends."

She smiled.

"Fair enough. But I still should go. I need to think."

He nodded, walking her to the door, and as she stood in the hallway, he looked at her seriously.

"Gonna make it home okay?"

Jenny shook her head.

"I doubt it. It's a long way from here to there. Must be at least ten steps."

He nodded.

"I can walk you home if you'd feel safer."

"How chivalrous of you, Jethro."

Leading the way, Jenny walked to her apartment, stopping just outside the door, and he reached to take her hand, kissing it gently as he gave her a smile.

"Your apartment, my lady."

She gave him a mock curtsy, bowing her head low enough that her long red hair touched her knees, and flashed him a smile on her rise back up.

"Thank you, sir. I feel much safer now."

He leaned down, kissing her gently, and when she unlocked her door, she gave him another smile, leaning back against the frame, her foot propped up on the wall behind her.

"Thank you," she repeated, her tone serious now, "For everything."

Gibbs nodded, brushing her hair from her face, giving her a smile.

"You're welcome."

What an interesting night this had turned out to be...


Shepard

As soon as Jenny had closed her door behind her, she pulled out her phone, dialing quickly, and as it rang, she sighed, running her hand through her hair. Finally, the voicemail picked up, and she took a deep breath as she listened to it silently

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

"Hey, Heather. It's Jenny. I just had simultaneously the worst and best night of my work life. I...I lost Paula Cassidy, it was...God, it was horrible...but do you remember me telling you about my next-door neighbour, Jethro? I went over to his place for a drink tonight, and...we kissed, Heather. Can you believe it? It's been such a long time since I've been kissed like that, so long since I didn't want to vomit after it was over. I...I think I might actually like this guy. He's really quiet, but what he does say matters. It's such a nice change."

She sighed, knowing her time was limited for leaving a voicemail, and as she began speaking again, she had to fight to keep her voice steady.

"I love you, Heather. I hope that, wherever you are, you know that and that you know how much I miss you. I wish I could talk to you, but...I understand."

She hung up the phone, holding it tightly in her hand, and as she slid slowly down the door, it took every ounce of self control she possessed not to let her tears fall.


The first thing that Jenny's mind registered was the overwhelming feeling that something was wrong, and as she slowly pushed open the apartment door, she frowned, calling Heather's name in the silence. After a quick search of the living room turned up nothing, she made her way to the bathroom, knocking lightly on the door.

"Heather? Are you in here? It's Jenny. Is everything okay? You sounded kind of upset on the phone earlier."

The door swung open, the scent of blood coming to her immediately, and as her eyes finally realised what they were seeing, she started to scream, running into the room.

"Heather?! Heather, can you hear me? Heather!"

Jenny's eyes opened quickly, her heart pounding in her chest as she laid in her bed, and she ran a hand through slightly damp hair. She supposed this was her mind's punishment for allowing herself to forget about Cassidy for the night. She was going to be forced to remember the worst day of her life, as many times as possible when she tried to sleep.

"Why?" she whispered, "I'm not a bad person, I swear."

Briefly, she allowed her thoughts to return to Gibbs, to the sadness she'd seen in his eyes that night when he'd answered her question about being married, and she wondered what would have caused such a pain. Had it been a rough divorce, filled with screaming matches, watching love turn to hatred? Or...was it something worse? What if...God, what if she'd died? Maybe that was why he'd always seemed to close himself off, and kept to himself.

If it was, she completely understood. She'd been doing the same thing for years, running from her past, from the friends she'd once known, from anyone who had ever dared to show her that they cared about her, and for the first time, she was beginning to wonder if she'd made a mistake. Amy was the only person who hadn't given up on her yet, but Jenny knew it was only a matter of time. Eventually, everyone always left her.

And Jenny didn't blame them at all.


Gibbs

An entire week passed without Gibbs seeing Jenny, though she had sent him a text saying that she was working out of town and wouldn't be back in time for their weekly dinner, which he had understood, no matter how disappointing it might have been. Each night, he listened for the sound of her key in the lock, for the sound of her voice through the wall, and as he sat slowly drinking away the pain that never seemed to leave him, he wondered how he had found himself in this situation. He'd gotten this apartment to avoid people, not become semi-involved with his neighbour, least of all not dreaming about the way they'd kissed the last time he'd seen her.

He still dreamt of Shannon and Kelly each night, but there had been a few rare instances in his dreams that Jenny had made an appearance, always there to hold him, to comfort him in the aftermath of his loss, and he wondered if the universe was trying to give him some sort of sign. Maybe she could be the one person he could trust with that secret. Something about the look in her eyes when he'd asked about her family had rattled him that night...underneath her carefully crafted sarcasm, he'd thought he'd seen a true flash of pain, pain that he'd only seen in her eyes one other time.

What was Shepard—Jenny, his mind corrected—hiding? What was she running from? He knew now that, for all his faults, Derek had been right about that at least. She was most definitely trying to escape something, though he had no idea of what it could possibly be, and while it was really none of his business, he was undeniably curious.

It was just nearing 21:30 when he heard the unmistakable sound of Jenny's door opening, and as he listened for the sound of her heels on the hardwood floor, he immediately relaxed when it filled the air. At least it hadn't been Derek breaking in again. He took a long drink of his bourbon as she was dropped her firearm onto the table, and when he heard her voice, he could detect a hint of shock.

"Wait...what the hell? How—no. No fucking way!"

He frowned, wondering what was wrong, but made no move to go ask, figuring if she wanted to tell him, it would eventually make it's way to him.

"Amy, it's Jenny. I—no, I just tried to call Heather, and her phone is disconnected. What the hell is going on? Why would they disconnect it?"

She was silent as she listened to her friend's response, and when she spoke again, the anger made her voice shake.

"They can't do that! No, I—Amy, I know! Don't you think I'm aware of that every god damned day? What the fuck?!"

There was a loud clattering noise that he took to mean she'd thrown her phone across the room in frustration, and when he heard a sharp knock on his own door less than a minute later, he stood to answer it, already knowing who was on the other side. Sure enough, Jenny Shepard stood in the hallway, her eyes locking on his the moment he pulled the door open.

"Got a minute?"

He nodded, and as soon as she'd walked through the door, she looked up at him seriously, her eyes never leaving his.

"Can I kiss you or would that be inappropriate? Because I can always just—"

He pulled her closer, jerking her to him by her waist, and when his lips found hers, her hands tangled in his hair. She moved forward, backing him into the wall, and when she finally tore her mouth from his, he frowned, looking at her seriously.

"Something wrong?"

"I feel like we've had this conversation before," she muttered.

"'Cause we did. Yes or no?"

"Depends on what you're asking, Jethro," she quipped playfully.

Gently pushing her back, he looked into her eyes, picking up on that haunted look in the bright green irises again, and he shook his head.

"Tell me."

"Tell you what?" she asked, deliberately trying to evade him.

"About Heather."

She must have forgotten about the thin walls, because her eyes were now suddenly angry, and she stepped back, glaring at him as though he'd slapped her.

"What do you know about Heather?"

"I know you call her every day, you never actually talk to her, and I know that her phone was disconnected today. Who is she? An old friend? An old lover?"

She walked across the room, falling onto his couch, and as he watched her, she simply stared at her hands, twisting them nervously in her lap. He made his way closer, sitting next to her on the soft fabric, placing his hand on her knee, willing her to look at him.

"Talk to me, Jen. It's obviously tearing you up."

Her eyes flickered to his at the nickname but she said nothing of it, merely shaking her head again.

"You wouldn't understand. And I don't want you to think less of me or think that I'm crazy."

"Already think you're crazy. You work with DiNozzo."

"Among other things," she muttered without thinking.

He raised his eyebrow, waiting to see if she would elaborate, but she never did, and he nudged her lightly with his knee.

"Come on, Shepard. Talk to me. Please."

She met his eyes again, and finally, after several excruciating moments, she nodded.

"Don't interrupt me, please. Heather is my sister. We're only two years apart, so we've always been really close."

He frowned, curious as to what had caused that to change, waiting for her to continue.

"Heather's always been...she struggled with depression her entire life, and for a long time, she went to therapy, took the medications they gave her, she did everything the doctors told her to do. Exercised, went out in the sun, spent time with her friends, meditation, all of it. But none of it seemed to help her."

Jenny took a deep breath, and Gibbs was suddenly very concerned about where this conversation was headed.

"Two years ago, my friend Amy called me and said that Heather had been acting a bit strange. Quieter than usual, not returning texts, things like that. I was at work, so I called her from my desk, and when she answered the phone, she sounded like she'd been crying. Nothing major had happened, so I figured it was just her depression that was getting to her, and I promised her that I would stop by as soon as I got off from work."

She paused, looking at him seriously, and nodded her head in the direction of the kitchen.

"Do you have any alcohol?"

He nodded, standing up and walking into the adjoining room, bringing the bottle of bourbon back with him. For once, she made no remark about his drink of choice, and as she unscrewed the cap, he noticed that her hands were shaking again.

"I went to her apartment. It's right down the road from the Navy Yard, so it only takes about ten minutes to get there, depending on traffic. When I knocked on her door, she didn't answer, but it was unlocked, so I went in. I called her name over and over, trying to figure out where she was, and I just knew something was wrong. Have you ever gotten that feeling? Like...just an instinct?"

Gibbs nodded, and she took a long drink from the bottle, her hands slightly more steady now.

"Anyway, I went into the bathroom, and...Heather was on the ground...there was...God, Jethro...there was so much blood. She...she'd slit her wrists, and I...I started screaming, I ran in the room, tried to help her but...it was too late. I...I know it's stupid, but I still feel like it's my fault. I should have been there when she needed me. She was my sister, and I let her down."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, giving her a strength she would have never admitted to needing, and when he ran his fingers lightly over her cheek, she turned to look at him.

"I call her phone every day just to hear her voice, to talk to her about my day...even if she isn't really there. She had it set up so that her bill would be automatically paid for up to five years. I guess it finally ran out. I still tell her about my day, just like we used to do when she was still...it's not the same, and I know it's a dumb thing to do, I know I should just let her go and move on, but...I just can't."

Now that he understood entirely. He'd been going through the same thing with Shannon and Kelly, and though he was strongly considering telling her about them, now wasn't the time. Now needed to be about her, about giving her whatever it was she needed, and when she reached for the bottle of bourbon again, she took a long drink. For someone who claimed to have stopped drinking, Jenny sure did indulge a lot.

Not that he was in any position to judge. She didn't seem to be an alcoholic, didn't get sloppy when she drank, and if she needed a drink or two to cope with telling him about the death of her sister, who was he to tell her that she couldn't? It occurred to him, as he finally looked at her again, that she'd been sitting silently while he'd been lost in his own thoughts, and as she met his gaze, he noticed she'd taken his hand in hers.

"You think I'm crazy now...don't you?"

He shook his head.

"No. I think you're grieving. Nothing wrong with that."

She stared at their hands for a long moment, her eyes strangely unfocused, and when she spoke, her voice was thick with suppressed emotion.

"Jethro?"

He made a small noise in the back of his throat to show that he was listening, and she raised her eyes to his, emerald locking on sapphire.

"Kiss me. Please. I'm not asking for sex, just...please, get me out of my head. It's a dangerous place for me to be right now."

He nodded, shifting so that he could pull her closer, and as his lips met hers, her hands went to his waist, pulling him down to hover over her. He was thankful that his couch was wide enough for them both to be comfortable as he kissed her, slowly running his hands over her legs, smiling when she hooked the right one around his hips. She gasped as his mouth moved to her throat, lightly biting down on the smooth skin, and when he brought his lips back to hers, he ran his hand through her hair. He slowly parted her lips with his tongue, sweeping into every corner of her mouth, tasting the remnants of the bourbon she'd swallowed, and he found that it tasted better this way than any other he'd tried.

He trailed his lips along her throat, frowning when they brushed against the necklace she was wearing, and he frowned as he realised it was the same one he'd noticed the night they'd first kissed.

"Gift from an ex-boyfriend?" he asked neutrally, running his fingers over the chain.

She shook her head, pulling it from his grasp.

"No. It was Heather's. And you're not going to say a word about it again. Understood?"

He nodded, kissing her again, and as her hands slid under his shirt, he felt his own skin jump at the contact. It had been so long since he'd been touched in any way, and she smirked as she bit down on his bottom lip.

"So, how rough do you like it? Should I go easy on you?"

He laughed, looking down at her with an expression of disbelief.

"Marine sniper. What do you think?"

"I think I'd still kill you," she quipped, kissing him hard.

He had to give her credit, if she kept kissing him like that, she just might.


Shepard

Staring at the cup of coffee sitting on her desk, Jenny frowned, wondering where on earth it could have come from, and as she sat down, she wondered if this were some kind of cruel joke.

"McGee! Where did this coffee come from?"

"Um...I don't know, ma—Jenny. It was there when I came in. It isn't yours?"

She shook her head, pointedly holding up the cup she currently carried.

"If it were mine, would I be carrying this one, Timothy?"

"Sorry, Jenny. I just thought—"

"Don't apologise," she said without thinking, "Sign of weakness."

"Hey, Red, you get the coffee that your neighbour dropped off for you?"

DiNozzo to the rescue, so it seemed.

"That explains it."

"So, Shep...you sure you and him don't have a thing going on? It's those baby blue eyes, isn't it? Or maybe it's—"

"Maybe it's the fact that he was a Marine sniper and could easily get rid of you for me, Tony. Ever think of that?"

Looking appropriately terrified, DiNozzo clamped his mouth shut, staring at his boss as she took a drink of the coffee Gibbs had left for her. It was a little sweeter than she was used to, but she was so touched by the gesture that she didn't even really mind.


The next day, there was another cup of coffee waiting for her when she came back from autopsy, and as she took a small hesitant drink from the cup, she allowed herself a small smile. It wasn't as sweet at the day before, absolutely perfect now, and as she drained half of it in one go, DiNozzo frowned, walking around the corner.

"Shep, have you even been home? You're wearing the same clothes as yesterday."

She shook her head.

"Can't go home yet. Not unless you've found something that will help us find Corporal Lee's daughters."

"Uh...negative, Red. But, I did find the stepfather's address. Think we should start there. Sounds like as good a place as any."

Jenny nodded, smiling at her second-in-command tiredly. For all his goofing off, he really did come through when she needed him. As she stood to pick up her gear, DiNozzo walked around to her desk, looking at her seriously.

"Jenny...you doing okay? I know what tomorrow is, and if you're trying to drown in work to forget about it, I understand, but... if you need anything..."

Jenny smiled, though it was slightly sarcastic.

"When I need something, you'll know. Your concern is flattering, but I'm perfectly capable of leaving my personal life at the door. Something you really need to work on."

He nodded, calling McGee's name as he re-entered the squad room.

"Let's go, Probie Wan Kenobi. We've got a lead."

McGee sighed at the nickname, and Jenny smirked. She really did love these guys.


Swearing softly at the sight before her, Jenny turned away, glaring at Tony DiNozzo as she jerked her head towards the door.

"Find this bastard."

A gunshot, followed by a loud yell caused them both to turn, and as McGee tried to pull himself up from the floor, Jenny bolted for the door, closely tailing after the man that had shot her youngest agent, not even listening as DiNozzo called her name. She could feel her legs burning as she ran, her lungs screaming for air, but she didn't stop running, waiting until she was close enough to tackle the man, her arms locking around his ankles.

She wasted no time in punching him as hard as she could, taking great satisfaction in the blood that began pouring from his nose, and as she hit him again, she could feel her entire body shaking in anger.

"You fucking bastard," she whispered, "You shot my agent, you killed those little girls, I hope you—"

"Shepard!"

She was still hitting him, no longer caring about the damage she caused, and when she felt arms wrap around her from behind, she protested loudly.

"Shep, stop. Let him go. You're gonna kill him."

DiNozzo pulled her off of their suspect, thankful that he was still breathing, and as she struggled against his hold, the young agent looked at her seriously.

"Shep. Hey! Jenny, stop. It's over now. McGee's gonna be fine, but we've got to do the right thing here."

She wasn't listening, and he grabbed her shoulders, shaking her roughly, forcing her to focus.

"Hey! Look at me, Jenny."

His voice was surprisingly gentle, and she raised her eyes to his, hollow and empty.

"It's okay now. You did it, Red. You got him."

She didn't even have the strength to fight him as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly.


A/N: Not sure when my next update will be. Hopefully soon.