A/N: Hope you enjoy the next installment! Let me know what you think!
Shepard
In the weeks following the shooting, Jenny was nearly driven mad with boredom, too stubborn to admit she was in pain or to accept help, and to say that her team was more than a little frustrated would have been the understatement of the century. She'd entertained herself by antagonizing Tony DiNozzo at even the slightest opportunity, spent her nights with one Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and any free time she had was spent visiting her mother. She was always careful to make sure that Gibbs was nowhere near when she was discussing medications with doctors, or arguing over payments, unsure of just exactly why she was keeping it a secret.
It wasn't as though she had anything to be ashamed of, and she wasn't trying to pretend it had never happened, but her mother's health just seemed to be something best kept to herself. She didn't doubt for a moment that he would understand, especially given what had happened with his first wife, but she just couldn't seem to bring herself to tell him. She knew now, as much as she'd tried to convince herself otherwise, that she was falling in love with him, knew she was dangerously close to letting it slip, and every night, she was forced to bite her tongue (sometimes literally) to keep the words from falling from her lips.
What was wrong with her? She knew how dangerous it was to fall in love, particularly with a man that she had no idea of how he felt about her, and each time she thought the words, she mentally kicked herself immediately after. She was behaving like a high school girl, not a woman in her thirties. This had to stop. That's all there was to it.
As she sat waiting for Natalie to return with her mother, Jenny found her mind wandering back to the days of her childhood, back to the days of her early twenties, days where she, Heather and her mother had spent hours shopping, her sister buying one iced coffee after another, ignoring Jenny as she'd teased her. Back to the days when everything had been okay, before her mother's days were consumed by doctors, needles, and pills.
After the death of her father, Jenny had found herself closer to her remaining family than she'd ever been in the past, doing her best to make her mother and sister smile, though nine times out of ten she felt like screaming. She'd taken it upon herself to make their lives as easy as she possibly could, knowing it would have made her father proud, and for a time, she had grown to resent them. Heather most of all.
Still…as much as she'd been frustrated with the younger woman, Jenny would have given anything in the world to have her back, to be able to hear her laughter one last time, and then…maybe then, their mother would come back, too. No matter how hard she prayed, no matter how much she cursed or begged, she knew….her life had been forever changed.
Madelyn Shepard was no longer the stunning redhaired beauty she'd once been, her bright blue eyes no longer shone with laughter as they once had, now dulled by medication or shimmering with tears. She no longer sang to herself as she cleaned their house, the house Jenny refused to set foot in unless absolutely necessary, and she no longer smiled at the sight of her daughter.
The sound of her name being called made Jenny glance up, jolting her from her thoughts, and as she stood to make her way closer, she forced a smile onto her face.
"Good morning, Jenny. How are you?"
"Fine. How are you, Natalie?"
Natalie smiled, looking at her warmly.
"I'm fine, thanks. Madelyn is doing better today, too. She had a bit of a rough night, and we had to sedate her to get her to sleep."
Jenny frowned.
"What happened?"
"She was screaming about how the flowers had turned against her, how they were going to murder her, and she was extremely upset."
"What is it about the flowers? Why does she think they're talking to her?"
Even as soon as the words left her mouth, Jenny realized she already knew the answer.
"Heather's favorite Disney movie was Alice in Wonderland…" she whispered, "The flowers, the obsession with teacups…it all makes sense now."
Natalie nodded.
"Dr. Holt thinks that this particular delusion is your mother's subconscious way of keeping Heather close to her, even in her mind. I should warn you, though: she's progressed to only eating if her food is served on a saucer, and only if she deems it an acceptable teatime."
Jenny shook her head as she began walking down the hall towards her mother's room, her eyes troubled.
"What does that mean?"
"It means that if she starts refusing food entirely, she'll have to be placed on a feeding tube. I'm telling you this now because if that time should come, we'll need your consent, as you have power of attorney over your mother. And I think you deserve a little advanced warning."
Just as Jenny was about to enter her mother's room, Natalie grabbed her arm gently, her eyes undeniably kind as she met the younger woman's.
"Just so you know…I pray for you and your mother every night. I know you're not especially religious, but—"
Jenny smiled, her eyes warm.
"Thank you. Really. That means a lot to me."
As she entered her mother's hospital room, Jenny had never felt more abandoned by God in her life…
Gibbs
God, shoot me now.
Leroy Jethro Gibbs didn't think he'd ever been so bored in his entire life and as he sat behind his desk, he tried to keep from yawning, clenching his teeth together so hard that it was more than a little painful. He rubbed his eyes tiredly as he waited for something (anything) to distract him from the constant slow ticking of the clock, and as he did so, he thought of Jenny.
What was she doing? Was she being just as stubborn as she had been the last time he'd seen her? Probably. He laughed as he remembered how angry she'd been when he'd refused to sleep with her following her injury, recalling the fire in her eyes fondly. He'd never known someone so passionate, never seen eyes burn with emotion the way hers did, and it he were being honest, it was the most captivating thing he'd encountered since Shannon's death.
He knew that what had once began as a simple curiosity had progressed into something much deeper. Though he didn't have the slightest idea of when, nor what he would call their relationship if he'd been asked. In a way, he supposed it didn't really matter, but for some unknown reason, it bothered him. They were friends, certainly, lovers even, but he knew that somewhere along the way, his own feelings had grown beyond more than just a simple sexual relationship. And that terrified him more than any bullets he'd ever faced.
Should he tell her? Should he open up his heart and tell her that he thought of little else except her throughout his day? That her smile, her eyes, her laugh gave him more joy than anything else had in the last eight years? What would she think? Would she laugh, turn him away, go back to DiNozzo, or worse, Derek? Or would she tell him she'd been dealing with the same feelings and that she loved him, too? Woah. Wait a minute. Love? That might be taking it a bit too far, in his opinion. It wasn't love that made his heart race each time he saw her, that made him smile every time she said his name, that made him pull her into his arms each night after they'd slept together. Certainly not.
He was so damn screwed…
Shepard
I wake up every morning wishing that I hadn't, after a night of waking up nearly every hour, to go to a job that I can't stand anymore. The job isn't entirely to blame, though it does contribute, and while finding a new one might help, the underlying problems will still be there. I've felt this way for as long as I can remember, from the age of thirteen to now. It's a feeling of hopelessness, of apathy on my best days, total desolation on my worst.
Sometimes, I don't even feel like I'm a real person, as though I'm watching someone else on a film screen. It's a strange sensation, and while I've grown accustomed to it, it doesn't make it any less odd. I feel as though I'm never going to be good enough, for my family, for my job, for anything. All my life, I've tried to be perfect. The perfect daughter, the perfect sister, perfect girlfriend, perfect employee, perfect everything, and yet I've never once believed in anything I've done, with one exception.
Music has always been my escape, the one thing I have talent in and believe in, and still…it's an extremely competitive field to find employment in and so very subjective, so very fickle. I know, if someone were to give me a chance, I could prove myself, but getting someone to take that chance is next to impossible. I've always believed that I have the talent and drive, but with each passing day, that faith begins to fade.
The mere idea of having to continue as I am now makes me sick, right down to the very pit of my stomach, and it's enough to make me wish for death. At least then the pain would stop. At least then I wouldn't be filled with this overwhelming feeling of uselessness. I know this would cause my family an unimaginable amount of pain, and this is the very reason I am still alive today.
I love them too much to put them through that kind of pain, but at the same time, what about my own? When does my pain begin to matter? How much longer am I going to be left feeling as though I'm trapped within my own mind? Something has to change and soon, because I'm not sure how much more I can take.
As she read Heather's words, Jenny wiped her tears from her eyes, refusing to admit, even to herself, that this was going to be a difficult day. It was the last thing her sister had ever written in her journal, and the small leather-bound book had been the only thing besides the necklace she wore every day that the older redhead had bothered to take out of her apartment, desperate to understand what had made her sister make the choice she had.
She often wondered if she'd listened more, if she hadn't always put her job first, if maybe Heather would still be alive. Maybe she could have helped her, could have done something, anything, to make the pain more bearable, maybe she could have—stop, Jenny. Thinking like that wasn't going to help her get through the day, and as she finally heard the sound of her name being called, she slowly stood, placing the journal back in her bag.
Giving the doctor a smile as she walked through the door, she carefully hopped up on the examining table, and he returned her smile easily.
"Good afternoon, Miss Shepard. How are you feeling today?"
"Fine, thanks."
A few more pleasantries were exchanged, and as he examined the now-healed wound on her upper thigh, he gave her another smile.
"Everything looks good here, the wound healed very nicely, but I would still like for you to take it easy for a few days. You don't want to exacerbate that injury."
Jenny nodded but said nothing, her thoughts a million miles away as she sat in the cold room, not even aware of her own shivering. She hopped down from the table five minutes later, her mind still on Heather, and as she left the freezing office, she suddenly knew what she was going to do. She just hoped he would be up for it.
She nearly laughed at the look of surprise on Gibbs' face when she walked into the recruitment office, her steps sure and confident as she made her way up to his desk.
"You're leaving in about ten minutes, aren't you?"
Glancing at his watch, he nodded, and as she sat down in the chair opposite him, she crossed her legs, propping them up on the desk.
"I can wait. I've got an idea for something, and I'd like you to come with me."
He tilted his head curiously, and as she waited, Jenny began flipping through various pamphlets that littered the desk, pretending to be entertained by the words written on the pages. She could feel Gibbs watching her, his piercing blue eyes following her every move, and when she finally heard him slide his chair back less than five minutes later, she frowned.
"I thought—"
"Can't concentrate with you sitting here like that. Let's go," he said with a small smile.
She laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she stood from her chair, smoothing out the skirt of her dress, and he frowned. He didn't think he'd ever seen her in anything other than jeans in all the time he'd known her, and as he took the time to assess her appearance, he smiled. The dress was cream coloured with light green accents, resembling vines, and it was sparking with soft glitter, so unlike anything he'd ever thought she would wear and he nodded at her.
"You look nice. Got a date?"
"Depends. Are you coming with me?"
He nodded.
"Then yes," she answered, "I have a date."
He smiled, holding the door open for her, and as she walked through the door, she gently kissed his cheek, giving him a warm look.
"Thank you, sir. How chivalrous of you."
Remembering that she'd said nearly the same thing the night they'd kissed the first time, Gibbs smiled again, and as they walked to his truck, he found his hand hovering near the small of her back, poised to catch her if she stumbled in those ridiculously high heels of hers. Not that she would, he knew she was too experienced with them, but still...it was the excuse he was going to give if she asked.
Gibbs
She could tell he wasn't used to dining in restaurants just by the way he sat in the chair, and she reached for his hand as their waiter walked away to fill their drink orders.
"Relax, Jethro. It's not a natural disaster."
He said nothing, merely looking at her as she sat across from him, and it occurred to him that he'd never seen her look nervous like she did then. Their drinks were brought back in a timely manner, and as she took a drink of her wine, he frowned. He'd never cared much for wine himself, but she made it look so elegant and refined that he thought perhaps he'd been too quick to judge the poor grapes. Maybe there was something to be said for it, after all.
She didn't speak much as they waited for their server to return, and again Gibbs found it odd. Jenny was never at a loss for words, and to hear her so quiet now was more than a little unnerving to him. He was just preparing to ask her about it when they were interrupted by the waiter returning, and she gave him a smile as she ordered.
Finally, they were alone again, and as he glanced at her, he noticed her hands stayed in her lap with the exception of when she held her glass.
"Jen?"
"Hmm?"
"You okay? You're being very quiet."
She nodded slowly, though there was an emotion in her eyes that he couldn't quite name, and as she looked over at him, she sighed.
"It's Heather's birthday."
He nodded, looking at her seriously and she took a long drink from her glass, nearly draining it in less than a minute. He noticed that while she still looked impeccable, she was slightly paler than usual, and as he took a drink from his beer, she gave him a weak smile.
"I know you're not the type to really go on typical dates, so thank you. This means more to me than you could ever know. Just having you here makes it easier. I wanted to celebrate her birthday even though she's not here to do it herself. It just seemed right, you know?"
He didn't, but he nodded anyway, not wanting her to feel as though she were insane. He'd always spent his time pretending he didn't notice Shannon or Kelly's birthdays, getting so drunk that he didn't even remember his own name. Not that this had ever accomplished anything, but he had figured it was at least worth a try.
Jenny picked absentmindedly at a piece of bread as they waited for their dinner, and when he noticed her hands shaking, he reached across the table to take one in his. Their eyes locked, emerald on sapphire, and he looked at her seriously, daring her to avoid his question.
"You sure you're okay?"
She nodded.
"It's okay if you're not, you know," he told her softly, "It would even be expected."
She shook her head.
"I'm fine. Or, I will be. Once dinner is over."
He frowned, wondering what on earth she was talking about, but just as he was about to ask, their food arrived, and Jenny was spared from answering his questions. Not a moment too soon, he would have guessed.
Shepard
As Jenny pushed her plate away, she could tell that Gibbs was waiting for her to speak, and when she finally raised her eyes to his, he frowned.
"I have a plan," she said quietly.
His frown increased and he titled his head as he spoke, wondering what in the world she meant.
"For what?"
"You're going to get up and walk to the door. Once you get outside, just keep walking. I'll wait a few minutes and then I'll be right behind you."
"Jen, we don't have to—I've got money for—"
She waved his words away, a smile on her face.
"It's not about the money. Just trust me, okay?"
Finally he nodded, and she gave him a smile as he stood up, making his way to the door. He made it through without issue, and as Jenny toyed with the stem of her wine glass, she laughed quietly to herself. This was turning out to be easier than she'd thought. She stood up carefully, and as she heard the waiter call out to her, she took off running, miraculously not falling in her heels. Crashing through the door, she caught up to Gibbs easily, her long red hair flying behind her, and as he turned to look at her, she laughed.
"Run!"
He reached for her hand, pulling her down the street, and as they ducked into a small alley just to their right, he could hear her laughter on the wind. They kept running until Gibbs glanced behind them and noticed that there was no one following them, and as he glanced around them, he realised they had somehow ended up at the park not far from their apartments.
Jenny stopped suddenly, her hand on his shoulder to steady herself, and as she laughed, he looked at her as though he'd never seen her before.
"Are you insane? We could have been arrested!"
She shook her head, her eyes sad though her voice was carefully neutral.
"I didn't do it because of the money. I did it for Heather. She always said she'd wondered what it would be like to dine and dash, and I told her that one day I would do it and tell her all about it."
He nodded, still slightly annoyed, but as soon as she raised up to kiss him, all his irritation disappeared, his arms pulling her closer as her tongue swept into his mouth.
"Thank you," she whispered, "You don't know how much that meant to me."
He shrugged.
"You're welcome."
She kissed him again, the forward momentum enough to knock him off his feet, and as they tumbled onto the warm grass, he pulled her on top of him, brushing her hair behind her ear as he looked at her.
"You really do look beautiful, Jen."
She kissed him slowly, not even caring that they were in a public place, and as his arms wrapped around her in the setting sun, she smiled, laying her head on his chest.
"Are you trying to gain brownie points by complimenting me, Gunnery Sergeant?"
He smiled, kissing her again.
"Might be. But, we are in public, and I'd really like to not be arrested tonight," he answered.
Jenny nodded, raising up from her position on his chest, standing carefully in her heels.
"Fair enough. Shall we head somewhere more suitable?"
If she did say so herself, Jenny was having all sorts of wonderful ideas that night.
Gibbs
Gibbs never quite knew how they made it back to her apartment in one piece, but somehow they did, and as he backed Jenny up against the wall in her living room, he smiled as her hands tangled in his hair. Her lips found his in a heated kiss, pulling him closer as she pulled his shirt over his head, and as it hit the floor, he found himself mesmerized by all the ways in which she was so completely different from any other woman he'd ever known. She was fiery, passionate, clever, sarcastic, and so independent that he wasn't sure how he'd gotten lucky enough to find himself in her company, much less in her bed.
He loved her stubbornness, her witty remarks, her quick thinking, her sharp tongue, her courage...every part of her personality that he'd been privileged to know had intrigued him from the very start, and that attraction was only growing stronger with each passing day. What was he supposed to do with that? He knew it was much too soon for him to be falling in love with her, but God help him if he didn't feel as though it might become a very real possibility.
He was just reaching for the hem of her dress when her phone rang, and as she let out a groan of frustration, he fought the urge to laugh, shaking his head as he watched her move away to reach for the offending device. She gave him an apologetic glance as she answered it, and as she spoke into the phone, he could tell she was trying to keep her voice carefully light.
"Shepard. Yes, speaking. No, I don't. Yes, by all means, if that's what is necessary, then please do it. Yes, of course. Thank you."
She hung up, leaving him more than a little confused, but he knew she wasn't going to elaborate, and when she walked back to him, she flashed him a smile.
"I believe we were in the middle of something."
"If you need to go somewhere, Jen—"
She shook her head, kissing him slowly, pulling him towards her bedroom, and as he tossed her shoes to the floor, Gibbs forced himself to ignore the feeling in the pit of his stomach that was telling him that something was wrong. He kicked off his jeans as he walked, somehow not stumbling, and as he lifted Jenny off her feet, her dress shimmering around them, she brought her lips to his in a deep kiss. He slid the fabric slowly from her body as he placed her on the mattress, letting it fall to the floor in a whisper of silk and glitter, smiling as he brought his lips to her throat.
Her head fell back onto the pillow as her hands pulled him closer, his own hands trailing down her side, and as he let his lips follow the path his hands took, he could feel her shaking beneath his body. He lifted her leg over his shoulder, pulling her closer, and as he dipped his tongue into her warmth, he was rewarded with a soft moan.
As Jenny's grip on the bed sheets tightened, he slowly entered her, feeling her sharp intake of breath, and he ran his fingers through her hair, smiling as her eyes locked onto his. Her right hand reached for his shoulder, tight on his skin but not unbearably so, and as he kissed her again, he wondered what she was thinking about.
He reached for her hand, entwining their fingers together, and as he scraped his teeth along her rushing artery, she gasped his name, pulling him closer with her free hand.
"Don't stop," she whispered.
"Wasn't going to," he answered with a kiss.
She laughed breathlessly, biting down on his bottom lip as his hips met hers, her name falling from his lips in a low growl. She knew, from the way she felt that familiar tightening in her lower abdomen, that she wouldn't last much longer, and as she came undone beneath him, a soft scream fell from her throat, her grip on his hand almost painful. He kissed her again as his own orgasm came crashing over him, and when she reached up to frame his face with her hand, he gave her a smile.
"Thank you," she said softly.
He moved from his current position, pulling her into his arms as they laid on her bed, and he frowned, unsure of what she was referring to.
"For what?"
"Today. Everything, really."
He was silent as he considered her words, and when he finally spoke next, his voice was slightly hesitant.
"Hey, Jen? Can I ask you something?"
She laughed.
"I believe you just did, marine."
He rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
"Cute. Real cute."
She smiled, laying her head on his chest as she moved closer.
"Of course you can."
He frowned, trying to think of the best way to word his question, and finally he decided that the best way would be to just be direct.
"What are we? I mean, what would you consider our relationship?"
"Well..." she began softly, "I don't really know. What do you want us to be? Do you want me to be your girlfriend, or would you rather I just be the neighbour that you occasionally have sex with?"
"Every night isn't occasionally," he pointed out.
"We don't have sex every night. Just most nights. But I guess I see your point. I'm leaving the decision of that up to you. You can decide what we are."
He nodded, thinking carefully.
"I want you to be part of my life, in any way that it's possible, but...will you officially be my girlfriend?"
"I don't think I've ever been asked quite so nicely for anything before," Jenny answered, a smile on her face, "And of course I will. I was hoping you would ask, eventually. I had a feeling you were kind of an old-fashioned guy. At least you didn't ask me to go steady. I might have had to walk out of my own apartment."
He laughed, shaking his head as he kissed her.
"I'm not that old-fashioned, Jen."
The first time he saw Jennifer Shepard panic came three nights later, and for the first time in years, Gibbs was at a complete loss of what to do. He'd been cooking dinner, and though he wasn't burdened by the task, he'd readily accepted her help, directing her on which ingredients he would need. He had forgotten entirely about the difficulties she'd once faced regarding food, and when she asked him for the measurements needed for each ingredient, suddenly all hell had broken loose.
"How much of this should I pour?"
At first he didn't hear the question, and she rolled her eyes good-naturedly, shaking her head as she moved closer.
"Jethro," she tried again, "how much of this do I need to measure out?"
He frowned, glancing at the butter absentmindedly.
"I'm not sure. Just a little."
"My definition of 'little' and yours are very likely two extremely different things. Can you give me an estimate?"
Gibbs shrugged, adding salt to the meat he was tenderizing.
"I never thought about it. Just use your eye. You'll know when it's enough."
Her head shook again, and it was only when he glanced at her from the corner of his eye that he noticed the rest of her body was shaking as well, making him pause. She dipped the spoon into the container of butter, frowning when she couldn't determine the exact measurement she'd used, and when the spoon fell from her hand, he turned, looking at her in concern.
"What's wrong?"
"I can't...I just...I don't know how to—I need an exact measurement."
He took a step closer, kneeling down to pick up the dropped utensil, and as he placed it into the sink, he was suddenly aware of just how fast her breathing was.
"Hey," he said quietly, "it's okay. It's just butter."
She shook her head, her eyes closing tightly.
"It's not just butter. Butter changes the texture, the consistency, the flavour, the caloric content, you have to use exact measurements. Even the slightest change could ruin the entire dish, and it's—you—I just—I—"
"Easy, Jen...breathe," he said gently, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Open your eyes and look at me, okay? Can you do that?"
"If I could, we wouldn't be in this mess," she said, her voice weak but sarcastic all the same.
He smiled at the tone, shaking his head as he wrapped her in his arms, kissing her hair lightly.
"Just take a second to breathe. It's okay. I'll measure out everything. Don't worry."
She nodded, taking a step back, and when she finally opened her eyes, they were slightly unfocused. She made her way over to the kitchen table, sinking down onto one of the chairs, and as he finished measuring out the ingredients. He heard a small laugh fall from her lips.
"God damn, I'm fucking pathetic."
He turned, looking at her seriously.
"No, you're not. It was my fault. I should have remembered."
"Jethro, I should be able to handle cooking without exact amounts. I'm not a child, and I shouldn't have acted like one. You have my sincerest apologies, though I know you won't accept it."
Gibbs smiled.
"You might be the only person in the world that I would accept an apology from, Jen," he told her seriously.
"Do you believe in God, Jethro?"
Her voice was quiet in the darkness, lit by only a dim lamp, and as he considered her question carefully, he wrapped his arm around her again.
"I did. Once. Not so much anymore. What about you? You seem to have some kind of personal vendetta against God."
Jenny nodded, a slight smile coming to her face as she raised up to look at him.
"You can thank my grandmother for that. When I was little, she used to read to me from the Bible. Leviticus, mainly, I think it was. I can't remember. But she was convinced that I was gonna give my soul to God and my body to a man that I would marry. But at five years old, I knew that we were enemies. So, in my mind I was always trying to find ways to get away from this creature. So I thought of things and my mother thought I was a demon for thinking them, but I think she would smile out of the corner of her mouth because I think she felt the same way. I tried doing things her way for awhile, but eventually I had to run as fast as I could away from all of it. It would have driven me insane if I hadn't."
Gibbs laughed, kissing her as she laid her head on his chest, and as she began to trace patterns on his skin with her nails, he gave her a strange look.
"What brought up that question?"
She shrugged.
"I don't know, exactly. It's just...we've both lost people we were incredibly close to. Shannon, Heather, my father's been dead for years, and I was just wondering what your thoughts were on an afterlife. On whether or not we'll ever see them again."
He frowned, thinking again, and as he spoke, his voice was quiet in the night.
"I don't know what I believe in. I believe in some kind of afterlife, but I don't think it's all pearly gates and rivers of honey. I'm not sure exactly what I think it is. I think we'll see them again, though. Just maybe not in the same way they were. For instance, Heather would be happy, Shannon would be...well, I'm not sure, she was always happy..."
Jenny laughed.
"And what about the people we love after? Like, say for instance, you meet another woman and fall in love with her. Do you spend your afterlife with her, or with Shannon?"
Gibbs glanced at her, wondering where in her mind these questions had come from.
"Do you always ask such difficult questions?"
Jenny laughed again, kissing him gently.
"Would you really want me to be any other way?"
No, he decided, he really wouldn't.
Shepard
When Jenny walked into the small room, the last thing she expected to see was her mother sitting in a chair by the window, slowly spooning small portions of Salisbury steak into her mouth from a tiny teacup. She sat down slowly, not wanting to startle her, and as she reached out to take her hand, she carefully arranged her face into a smile.
"Hi, Mom. How are you?"
"Jenny! You're here today! I knew you would be. The flowers and the butterflies told me you'd be coming today. How are you?"
"I'm fine, Mom. How are you?"
"A little annoyed. Everything's been buzzing so loud in my head that I can't get any sleep. The flowers won't stop talking, and they're starting to fight amongst themselves. It's really annoying. But enough about me. Do you have a man in your life yet? I feel like we don't talk as much as we used to."
Jenny smiled, giving her mother a warm hug, feeling like perhaps she was showing a bit of improvement.
"I do, actually. He's a marine. I think you'd really like him."
"Bring him by sometime. I'd love to meet the man who makes my little girl smile so beautifully."
She was silent for a long moment, and when she tensed suddenly, Jenny frowned, unsure of what was wrong.
"Mom, are you—"
"Get away from me! You're just like the flowers! You both want me dead. I won't let you do this! I'll kill you both myself before I let you!"
Her hands lashed out, wrapping around the plastic knife on the table, her right closing around Jenny's throat with surprising strength, and as the knife was placed against her skin, Jenny instinctively flinched backward, her eyes closing as she fought to breathe.
"Mom, s-stop, p-please, you—"
"I'll kill you first!"
Each breath was becoming a struggle, and while she knew she probably could have broken free, Jenny was too concerned with not hurting her mother to even consider fighting back. Finally, just as Jenny was preparing to try her hand at moving, several pairs of hands wrapped around Madelyn Shepard's waist, pulling her off of the younger woman, holding her back as she screamed.
"Jenny, are you alright?"
It took several seconds for the younger redhead to realise that it was Natalie who had spoken, and finally, she nodded, closing her eyes in pain as she swallowed.
"I'm fine," she whispered hoarsely, "Is she—"
"She'll be just fine once she's been sedated. I'm so sorry. We were right in the middle of a shift change, and while that's no excuse, I am so sorry that this happened. If you'd like, I can take a look and make sure there was no lasting damage."
Jenny shook her head, her hand at her throat, watching sadly as her mother was held down on the bed, a needle placed into her skin as she fought against the hands that restrained her.
"I'm okay, Natalie. Really. Thank you."
And she was, physically. Emotionally, that was another story entirely...and she didn't think she'd ever hated her sister or needed Gibbs more in her life.
A/N: Poor Jen...
