A/N: I am SO sorry that this update is so late! Long story short, I got divorced, got a new job, and now have a new person in my life that I'm hoping will be amazing. Anyway, I hope you're prepared for fluff, because this one has quite a bit of it here. Thank you all for sticking with me and please, enjoy!
Shepard
He was hiding something, though even if her very life depended on it, Jenny couldn't have guessed what. Each night after they returned home from work or from visiting Carly, he retreated to the sanctity of his precious basement, saying nothing any time she asked him if there was anything bothering him. After all they had been through over the nearly-two years, she thought she knew her husband fairly well, in spite of his trademark stoicism, and to say that it was beginning to annoy her was a massive understatement.
She felt as though she'd been walking on eggshells around him, something that had never happened in all the time they'd known each other, and it wasn't a feeling she was accustomed to, nor did she ever want to be. She had tried giving him time, leaving the choice of whether he was going to confide in her up to him, but after more than a month of this increasingly large distance between them, Jenny wasn't sure how much longer she could stand it.
It just so happened that the final straw came during a visit to Carly's house, Jenny trying (and failing miserably) to bring Gibbs into the conversation that had been taking place at dinner, and she sighed as she reached for her glass of water, noticing the way his eyes followed her hand with each move she made. What in the hell was his problem?
She knew Carly could feel the tension between them (she would have had to be blind not to), and when their daughter went to see if Evan needed anything in her room, Jenny finally spoke, her voice low to not be overheard.
"Is something wrong?"
Gibbs glanced at her but said nothing, merely taking a long drink from the coffee in front of him.
"I know that I typically dominate the conversation, but this is stoic even for you," she said, her voice carefully light.
"I'm fine," he finally answered, refusing to meet her eyes.
Jenny was just preparing to speak again when Carly returned, and she painted a smile on her face, hoping it looked at least somewhat genuine.
"How's Evan?"
"She's doing a lot better," Carly said, smiling, "Her reflexes are still a little slow, but she's able to walk across the room now without my help. She's still got a long road, but she's doing great."
"That's good."
Jenny took a drink of her water, again feeling Gibbs' eyes following her, and she looked at him, feeling suddenly, irrationally angry.
"Would you care to tell me why you've been watching me like a hawk all damn night?" she snapped, her voice harsher than she intended.
Carly froze, her eyes darting to Gibbs, trying to gauge his emotions.
"I'm not," he said, his voice deliberately neutral.
Jenny shook her head, standing up from the table, and began walking in the direction of her father's study.
"Carly, would you excuse us for a moment? I need to have a word with your dad."
She didn't even stop to see if he was following her, her steps halting only when she reached the edge of the desk in the study, her eyes hard as he closed the door behind him, and she knew, without a word, that he was angry now as well.
"What the hell, Jen?"
"You tell me," she replied smoothly, "You've been acting like a moody teenager for weeks. You don't talk to me unless it's work-related, and only then if it's absolutely necessary, you won't even look at me half the time, and now, when you decide that you finally want to look, you watch me like I'm some kind of common criminal! What is going on with you?"
"Nothing," he said, his tone slightly too defensive.
She believed him as much as she believed in Bigfoot, and rolled her eyes.
"Yes, that was convincing," she said sarcastically, "Jesus fucking Christ, Jethro! For once in your life, just talk to me! Tell me what's wrong."
His response was so quiet that at first she didn't hear it, and she shook her head, her hair falling over her shoulder at the movement.
"What?" she asked exasperatedly.
"You've lost weight," he repeated, "a lot of it. I don't know if you've noticed or not, but I sure as hell have. And at first, I thought it was just the stress and worry about Evan, but now..."
All at once, his over-attentiveness made complete sense to her, and she felt her anger rising again.
"So, rather than ask me, rather than talk to me like a rational human being, you decided to see if you could catch me doing something that would have explained it," she realised, "You were so sure I'd relapsed, but you couldn't be bothered to open your mouth and ask me about it. Does that about cover it?"
He said nothing, confirming her suspicions, and she shook her head in disbelief.
"You listen to me, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and you listen well." she said, her voice shaking, "You can be as angry as you'd like—don't deny it, I can see it in your eyes—but you don't get to be angry at me. If you had bothered to ask, I would have told you the truth: no, I haven't relapsed, yes, I've noticed the weight loss, and that's all there is to it."
"That's not all there is to it, and you know it," he said, moving closer to her, "Believe it or not, you aren't the only one in this family who reads, and you want to know what I read recently? That sudden weight loss is a symptom of worsening MS. And yeah, Jen, maybe I was looking for signs that you'd relapsed with your eating disorder, and for once, I was hoping you had."
Jenny frowned.
"What the hell are you talking about? Why?"
"Because it's better than the alternative!" he yelled, making her jump slightly, "Because I can help you fix an eating disorder. I can't..." he paused, looking at her seriously, "I can't fix MS. I can't just make a wish or say a prayer and make it go away. It might go into remission on its own, it might be manageable with medication, but it might not."
"Jethro—"
"No, Jen. You wanted me to talk to you, so here it is. It scares the hell out of me knowing that you're sick, knowing that this affects every part of your life, and there is nothing in the world I can do about it! I can't take away the pain, I can't make it less frightening, I can't promise you that tomorrow will be better than today. And it's killing me. After what just happened with Evan..."
He took a breath, and she realised with a rush of sadness that his eyes were filled with tears.
"I can't lose you, too. So, yeah...I was hoping I could see you drinking excessive amounts of water, maybe see you hiding food in a napkin, anything. But you know what I saw? I saw your hands shaking so badly that you spilled water on the table. I saw your skin so pale that your veins are as clear as day. I saw you losing weight so quickly that your clothing hangs on you like a mannequin. And it was the one thing I didn't want to see more than anything else. But I did, Jen..."
Jenny was silent for a long moment, unsure of what she would say even if she'd had the ability, and she met his eyes slowly, carefully.
"We'll talk about this later," she said quietly.
She didn't bother waiting for a response, merely walking from the room, feeling his eyes following her every step, and as she made her way back into the kitchen, she tried desperately to control the shaking in her hands.
After what Jenny was sure had to have gone down as the most awkward dinner in their family history followed by an equally silent drive home, she forced herself to climb the stairs, pointedly ignoring the way her legs burned with each step. She had no idea of whether her husband had followed her, but when she glanced behind her as she entered the bedroom, she was thankfully alone. Good. She needed time to sort through the thoughts spiraling around in her mind.
Sinking down onto the bed, she held her head in her hands, her shaking fingers pulling several strands of her fiery hair loose, and she sighed. What in the hell was she going to do? She knew, on some level, that Gibbs was right, knew that her symptoms had been worsening lately, but she'd been so deep into her denial (and then terrified by the implications) to even consider addressing the problem, and now it had threatened the one thing that mattered more to her than anything. She could handle losing her job, she could deal with a public scandal if it arose, she could manage the anger of her employees...she couldn't lose her husband or her daughter. There was no conceivable way of coming back from a loss that huge.
"I'll make an announcement on Monday," she said quietly, her voice slightly muffled from her position.
"Jen..."
She'd known, though she couldn't have said exactly how she'd known, that he'd been watching her from the doorway, and she slowly raised her head, pretending that she didn't feel the prickling of tears in her eyes. His own eyes were watching her with a carefulness that had a strong undertone of sympathy, and it was almost enough to make her fall apart where she sat, her eyes burning as she met them
"Why didn't you just ask me?" she asked, her words so soft yet impossibly loud in the silence.
Gibbs sighed, taking several steps into the room, turning on the light next to the bed, casting the room in an almost eerie glow.
"Because I was afraid of the answer," he admitted, looking anywhere but her, "I didn't want to face the reality that I might lose you. I've already buried one wife and the thought that it might happen again..."
Jenny laughed softly, shaking her head.
"I hate to break it to you, but unless you die before me, it will happen again, Jethro."
He nodded, still not looking at her.
"I know. But not now. Not like this."
"If it's going to happen, there's nothing we can do to stop it."
"How can you sit there and talk about dying like it's no big deal?" he snapped, his voice harsher than she had expected.
She sat quietly for a moment, considering the question, and when she finally spoke again, she was surprised to find that her voice was steady as she stared at her hands.
"Because it isn't a big deal. Not really. People die every single day. And most of them will never be remembered except by the people who loved them. And if you really stop to think about it, death isn't anything to be afraid of. Just as we don't remember life before we were born, we won't know anything after we're gone. We're energy, and energy doesn't stop. It just changes form. Everything that made me who I am, my personality, my thoughts, my dreams, that all came after the energy. It's just a dream that we see as our lives in the greater scheme of things and really, when we die, we're not really gone. That energy will still be out there, somewhere."
He was looking at her now, she could feel his eyes on her, but she wasn't prepared for his close proximity, and when he reached for her hands, she jumped slightly.
"Have you always been this philosophical?"
She shook her head.
"No. Believe it or not, I used to be a pretty devout Christian at one point in my life. I told you about my grandmother reading Leviticus to me as a child. I believed the whole thing until I was about twenty-two and then I started to realise that it was all bullshit. Religion is something that people turn to to help them face the unknown. It helps them to control their fear about death and the hard parts of life. And that's okay. If it gives them comfort, it's not my place to take that away from them. Let people feel that comfort. Life is hard enough without being assholes just because you have a different opinion."
Gibbs nodded, leaning down to kiss her hair, and she smiled sadly.
"Sometimes, I wish I still believed it."
"Me too, Jen. Me, too."
Gibbs
He had never felt prouder of Jenny than he did as he watched her walk to the head of the large conference room, though he knew she was fighting every instinct to run from the room and never return. Cynthia stood just off to her right, giving her a warm smile, and he felt a rush of gratitude towards the younger woman, nodding at her once. She'd been so supportive of Jenny from the moment she had taken her job, and he hoped she understood just how much he appreciated it. To say nothing of how much it meant to Jenny herself.
A silence began to fall over the room as every head turned to look at their redheaded leader, and as she looked around the room, Gibbs could see that she had paled considerably. Still, she took a breath and began, further cementing the fact in his mind that she was an absolute badass.
"Okay, everyone. I know that you all have much more pressing matters to attend to today, so let's just get this over with, shall we? This isn't an announcement that I wanted to make, especially so soon after taking the role of your Director, but unfortunately, it seems the universe had other plans. Before any of you get the wrong idea, let's get one thing out of the way right now: no, I am not pregnant. I already have one daughter, she's more than enough."
A ripple of laughter went around the room and she smiled.
"And no, I'm not divorcing or firing Agent Gibbs, though the thought does cross my mind at least five times a day."
Gibbs smirked, rolling his eyes as he heard the laughter of Tony DiNozzo to his right.
"The reason I've called this meeting today is to let you all know...I..."
Jenny paused, closing her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, Gibbs captured her gaze with his own, giving her a small nod.
"A few months after I assumed the role as Director, I was diagnosed with Relapsing-Remitting Multiple Sclerosis. This is a disease that attacks the Central Nervous System, and it has various symptoms that occur with different degrees of intensity on any given day. SecNav was made aware of this fact and has agreed to allow me the freedom to work out of office when necessary. The reason I'm making this announcement now is that over the last few weeks, these symptoms have gotten progressively more severe, and I will likely be out of office more frequently than before. All of my responsibilities are still being taken care of and you will always be able to reach me in case of an emergency, but for less pressing matters, you will defer to Cynthia."
She gave it a moment to allow the news to settle and nodded once.
"Are there any questions?"
"Is it fatal?"
Jenny shook her head.
"As of right now, no."
"Will you step down from your position?"
Again, she shook her head, looking at the agent who had asked the question seriously.
"No. The only way I will resign is if there is no other option. Or, you know, if I die in my office. And then, I'll haunt Assistant Director Vance for the rest of eternity. You're not getting away from me that easily."
A laugh went through the room again, and Gibbs smiled, nodding at her in approval as she began to speak.
"Okay. That's it. Now, everyone get back out there and do the jobs you were hired to do. Thank you for your time."
The moment her office door had closed behind them, Gibbs pulled her into his arms, pressing his lips against her temple, breathing in the vanilla scent of her perfume. He could feel her shaking as he held her, though he didn't know if it was a result of her nerves or the chill of the room, and he tightened his grip.
"I'm so proud of you, Jen."
She sighed into his chest, shaking her head slowly.
"I was so fucking nervous," she said with a slight laugh.
He kissed her hair again, smiling.
"Yeah, but you did it. And I think it went well."
Jenny pulled back, her bright green eyes meeting his, and she nodded.
"I think you might be right."
He smirked.
"What was that? Can you say it again? I don't think I heard you the first time."
She rolled her eyes, pulling him closer, and when she kissed him, he could still feel the slight shaking in her body. He was just preparing to question her about it when the soft knock on the door made him turn, releasing his hold on her.
"Come in," she said, her voice warm.
Gibbs supposed that it shouldn't have surprised him to see Tim McGee standing on the other side of the door, and when he noticed the look of barely-restrained anger in his eyes, the older agent leaned down, kissing Jenny lightly on the cheek.
"I'll give you time alone," he said quietly.
He could tell from the look on her face that she knew what was about to happen, but she merely nodded.
"I'll call you for lunch."
Gibbs closed the door, giving Cynthia a small smile as he passed. He certainly didn't envy his wife right now...
Shepard
Less than thirty seconds passed between Gibbs closing the door and McGee glaring at her, and she knew before he had even said a word, that they were in for a fight.
"What the hell, Jenny?" he asked, his voice shaking in an attempt to control his anger.
"Tim, I—"
"You've been sick for months and you didn't tell me? I had to find out through a damn meeting? We're friends, or at least I thought we were. Were you so afraid that I would run my mouth that you couldn't be bothered to tell me? I'm not Tony, you know."
She said nothing, and he glared at her again, correctly interpreting her silence.
"You told Tony and not me..." he realised.
"I didn't exactly have a choice," she said honestly.
"Right," he snapped sarcastically, "because he was your partner and I wasn't. I was just the little screw-up Probie."
"No," Jenny said gently, "It wasn't because of that at all."
"I would have thought that anyone would have been a better choice than Tony. Ducky, Cynthia, sure...it makes sense that you would tell them first, but Tony? He's not exactly known for his discretion."
"I collapsed in my office one day and he caught me. Literally. I couldn't exactly lie my way out of that one. Believe me, Tim...I didn't want you to find out this way. I didn't want anyone to find out at all."
"So you were just going to lie to all of us? We're your friends. Your family. We don't keep secrets like this, not after everything we've been through toget—"
"I know!" Jenny's voice was dangerously close to breaking, "Tim, I know. But I was...I thought that if I didn't tell anyone, if I just pretended like it hadn't even happened, that I could keep going without any issues. That no one would ever have to know how big of a mistake they made by promoting me, that no one would realise just how fucked up I really was."
The look on McGee's face was the strangest combination of sadness, confusion, and anger that she had ever seen, and he frowned, looking at her seriously.
"Jenny...what else is going on?"
She had sworn to herself years ago, back when she had been given her own team, that she would never let them see just how deeply her emotions went, sworn that she would never let them see her cry, and now it looked like that whole plan had just been shot to hell. She could feel the tears threatening to spill over, and when she blinked, they burned a path down her face, scorching her skin in their wake.
"Sit down, Tim. I'll tell you everything. No more secrets. I promise."
She spoke for so long that her voice was hoarse by the time she had finished, and while she had known that it was quite a lot of information to take in, she had expected him to at least say something, yet he simply sat there, looking at her as though he had never seen her before.
"Tim, I know that—"
Her words were cut short as he stood with a speed she hadn't expected and walked around her desk, hugging her tighter than he'd ever done in all the years they'd known one another.
"I wish you had told me sooner."
His voice was muffled by her hair, but she hugged him back tightly, wrapping her arms around his neck like he was the only thing keeping her afloat, and she fought to keep her voice steady as she spoke.
"I know. I'm so sorry."
He stepped back, looking at her seriously, his eyes searching hers in a way they had never done before.
"How bad is it?"
Jenny sighed, running her hand through her hair, feeling it shake despite her best efforts to stop it. She held it up for him to see, no longer trying to stop the way her entire hand was trembling, and nodded towards it.
"This is an everyday occurrence for me," she said quietly, "Half the time, I can hardly pick up a pen, much less sign my name to anything. My vision is blurry more often than not, and I'm sure you've noticed that I'm no longer the hottest person in the room because I've lost so much weight. You're just too polite to mention it."
"Jenny, I would never—"
She waved his words away with a small smile.
"I know, I was kidding. Not about the weight loss, though. Some nights, Gibbs has to carry me from the living room to the bed because I can't walk. Stairs are my nemesis at this point, same with all the buttons on my clothing. I despise buttons now. Ducky has me come down once a week to check my blood work, and even though he tries to hide it, I can see it in his eyes that he's worried."
McGee frowned, still looking at her with that same urgency and she sighed.
"Unfortunately, there is a chance that this will change from relapsing-remitting MS to secondary progressive MS, which is decidedly worse."
He nodded.
"I know. I studied it when I was considering medicine. I didn't last long with it, but I remember learning about the different types. Nothing can be done to stop the change and there's no cure, right?"
"Right," Jenny said softly, "I don't know if—if it changes, I don't know how I'll be able to keep my job here, but I promise, I'll do everything I can to try."
"It's a job, Jenny. Jobs can be replaced. Your health is so much more important. I'd put up with Vance every day for the rest of my life as long as you were okay. Tony and I love you, and so does Ziva. Nothing is more important than that."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Tim. Really, I am. It was shitty of me, and I don't blame you if you hate me."
McGee laughed, hugging her once more before shaking his head.
"Nah. I could never hate you, Jenny. Just...try not to die, okay? You're the only person who can make Gibbs nicer."
Jenny laughed, feeling better than she had in weeks, shaking her head in amusement as he walked out of her office.
Gibbs
"Hey."
Frowning as he walked back into the bedroom, Gibbs was slightly confused at the sight of his wife laying in the bed, reading by the light of the lamp on the bedside table. He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't even realised that she'd been in the room, much less that she'd spoken, and he looked at her curiously.
"I didn't see you there," he said with an apologetic smile, "When did you come up?"
Jenny shrugged, still reading.
"About an hour ago. Believe it or not, sometimes, I can still walk," she answered lightly.
He continued on his path to the bathroom, his thoughts still spinning around in his head like a wheel, and when Jenny called his name, he jumped.
"Yeah?"
"I said, are you coming to bed?"
What was wrong with him? He'd never had this much trouble focusing before. He supposed his mind was still reeling from her meeting that morning and the case he'd gotten hours after, and he frowned as he walked back into the bedroom.
"In a bit."
"Jethro, is something wrong?"
He didn't answer, trying to think of the best way to respond, and Jenny sighed, closing her book and placing it on the bedside table.
"Leroy Jethro Gibbs, are you going to ignore me all night?"
He shook his head, moving closer to the bed, sitting on the edge carefully.
"No, I was just thinking about the case I got today," he admitted, "I don't know how we're going to solve this one without help."
Jenny reached up slowly, running her fingers through his hair, giving him a soft smile.
"So we ask for help. Isn't that one of your rules?"
He smiled, touched that she still remembered the conversation they'd had over a year ago.
"Yeah," he leaned closer, brushing her hair behind her ear slowly, "You know, to be fair, you were laying down when I walked in. I really didn't see you there."
She rolled her eyes, pulling him closer as her lips found his.
"Yes, because my red hair makes for wonderful camouflage," she murmured sarcastically.
He kissed her again, careful not to move too quickly, and looked at her, sapphire eyes meeting emerald in the dim light.
"You're definitely a safety hazard," he said, his fingers slipping into her hair.
She laughed, her voice low as she spoke.
"Jethro, the only hazard here will be to your health if you don't stop talking."
"I think that's the first time anyone has ever told me that I talk too much," he answered with a laugh.
"Jethro?"
"Hm?"
"Shut up," she whispered, pulling him to her by his shirt, her free hand winding into his hair.
He couldn't deny that he wanted to touch her more than he'd wanted anything in a long time, but he also knew that he would have never forgiven himself if he'd hurt her. He moved slowly, carefully, basing his next move by the way she responded, and when her hands slipped under his shirt, he paused, causing her to look up at him in confusion.
"What?" she asked breathlessly.
"You're sure about this?"
She nodded.
"I'll stop you if it's too much."
Though he was still slightly concerned, he knew he had to trust Jenny to know her own limitations, and kissed her again, his own fingers finding the hem of the satin nightgown she wore easily. He pushed the garment up her legs, pausing when he noticed the black and blue bruises marring her pale skin, and frowned, looking at her seriously.
"What the hell happened?"
Jenny frowned, her confused eyes following his gaze. They widened as she reached out to lightly touch the marks, taking great care not to apply too much pressure.
"I...don't know," she said softly, "I didn't even feel them."
Though he wanted nothing more than to demand that she call Ducky, she shook her head, running her fingers lightly over his cheek, her breath warm on his skin.
"It's fine, Jethro," she whispered, "It doesn't hurt, and I'll ask Ducky about it tomorrow. A few bruises should be the least of your concern right now."
"What should be my main concern, Director Shepard?"
The use of her title made her smile, and she pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor with a flourish.
"The fact that I'm your wife as well as your boss, so I can make your life miserable even when you leave the house."
"You make a very convincing argument, Mrs. Gibbs," he murmured as he kissed her again.
"Mmm...say that again," she said quietly, pushing his boxers down with her feet as he slid his hand under the satin, "I could get used to hearing it."
"Which part?" he asked, deliberately drawing out the moment as his lips trailed over her skin.
"All of it."
He smiled, moving his lips to her throat, dipping his tongue into the hollow of her shoulder.
"You make a very convincing argument, Mrs. Gibbs," he repeated, his voice low as he deftly removed her nightgown.
She moaned softly at his words, turning her head just enough that she could claim his lips, and her right hand moved to the base of his neck, holding him in place as her tongue explored his mouth. He moved his right hand down the smooth skin of her legs, supporting his weight with his left, and when he slid his fingers into her, Jenny's breath caught in her throat. He moved slowly, still wary of hurting her, and when she grip on his shoulder tightened, he knew that she was telling him she was okay. He sped up his movements, running his tongue over her bottom lip as he kissed her, the whisper of his name from against his skin fueling him further, and her hips moved to the rhythm of his hand.
It had been such a long time since he'd touched her that it didn't take long for Jenny to reach the edge and Gibbs stopped his movement just before she fell over, making a frustrated sigh fall from her lips. He smirked as she glared up at him, brushing her hair back from her face as he kissed her, giving her no warning before he entered her, taking great satisfaction in the moaned curses that came from her gritted teeth.
Her grip on his shoulder slipped on his sweat-slicked skin, nails lightly scratching the surface, and he smirked as he pinned her arms above her head, kissing her as she strained against his hold.
"This hardly seems fair," she said with a small laugh.
"Oh, it's not," he agreed, kissing her again.
He rolled his hips against hers, feeling her body jerk beneath his, and he ran his tongue over the shell of her ear, earning him a low moan of his own name. Moving faster now, he released her hands, kissing her hard when her right hand tangled into the strands of his hair, her left hand using his shoulder to help steady herself (however moderate the attempt was), and he bit down on her bottom lip just enough to make her moan again. It really was the most addictive sound he'd ever heard, and he would have done anything to hear it again.
His rhythm was beginning to falter, and he looked down at her, running his fingers lightly over her face, meeting her eyes seriously.
"You with me?"
She nodded, raising up to kiss him, her breathing shallow and fast.
"Don't stop," she gasped.
She needn't have bothered, since there was no way he could have stopped barring an emergency, and he felt his eyes close as his climax hit him harder than he had anticipated. The way Jenny's hand tightened on his arm told him that she wasn't far behind, and when he was finally able to hear something other than the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, he buried his head in her shoulder, breathing in the scent of vanilla, sweat, and sex.
"I love you, Jethro," she whispered breathlessly.
"I love you too, Jen. So damn much," he said, his voice slightly hoarse.
Nothing could have prepared Gibbs for walking back into the squad room to find a certain Scottish doctor waiting at his desk, and he immediately felt his heart drop. His first thought was of Jenny, and when Ducky nodded his head towards the elevator that the agent had just vacated, he knew his guess had been correct. He powered the lift down as soon as the doors had slid shut behind them, meeting the older man's gaze with a worry that he hadn't felt since Evan had been in the hospital.
"Jethro, I know you're working on a case, but as you know, Jennifer has been coming to see me weekly for blood work and while she was in autopsy this morning, I noticed something that might be of some concern."
It was a struggle for him to remember how to breathe, and he fought to speak, his eyes never leaving Ducky's.
"What was it?"
"I noticed several bruises on Jennifer's wrists this morning. She says that it's nothing, but they looked quite recent, and as you know, bruising can often be a sign of bigger problems."
He immediately felt relief and fought the urge to laugh outright.
"She's right, Duck," he told him honestly, "Those bruises are nothing to worry about. The ones on her legs are a bit more concerning because she doesn't know where they came from, but if it keeps happening, she'll have it looked at."
Ducky's eyes narrowed at him as he spoke, his voice still concerned.
"And how do you know the ones on her wrists are not cause for alarm?"
Gibbs smirked.
"Use your imagination, Duck."
Realisation flooded the doctor's face and he coughed, suddenly unable to meet the younger man's eyes.
"I see. Well, just the same, keep an eye on the bruising on her legs. She's likely more prone to them now that her immune system is weakened."
"Will do. Thanks, Ducky."
Ducky nodded, rolling his eyes as he flipped the emergency switch.
"Don't mention it."
As he walked back to his desk, Gibbs could have sworn he heard the words "as bad as teenagers" muttered in a distinctly Scottish accent, and it took all of the self-control he possessed to keep his laughter at bay.
Unfortunately, Gibbs found that his good mood lasted only until a little before noon, and as his team chased the suspect they had been tailing, he found himself cursing the day he had accepted Jenny's job offer. He could have been sitting safely back at the Marine recruitment office right now instead of chasing a murderer through the back alleys of DC. The gunshot rang out in the quiet of the morning, and he instinctively ducked, knowing even as he moved that he had been incredibly lucky, if the way his hair moved was any indication.
The second bullet ripped into the flesh of his upper thigh, making him grit his teeth in pain, but he didn't make a sound, dropping silently to his knee. His knee protested the impact, screaming at him in fury, and as DiNozzo came closer, he waved his hand impatiently.
"Go! Don't lose him. I'm fine!"
He just had time to see that DiNozzo had heeded his words when his vision went suddenly black and his head connected with the pavement, though he hardly felt the pain at all as his awareness of the world around him was reduced to silence.
He opened his eyes to find pure, blinding white instead of the blackness that had been so comforting, and it dimly occurred to him that he must be in a hospital. A quick scan of his surroundings further solidified this assumption, and when he noticed that he wasn't alone, he frowned, but once he realised he recognised the figure next to him, he relaxed.
"Sick of being married already?" Jenny asked softly, running her thumb over the back of his hand lightly.
"If I were, I'd just kill you," he quipped, "No need to go through this."
She laughed, leaning over to kiss his forehead gently.
"True. Though you'll be happy to know that DiNozzo caught Channing less than a minute after he shot you."
"I could have done it in thirty seconds."
She rolled her eyes, running her right hand through his hair gently.
"Not in your condition, you couldn't."
He met her eyes seriously, no joking tone to his voice now, and reached for her free hand.
"The rest of the team?"
She smiled.
"They're fine. And you'll be fine, too, provided that you actually rest and don't try to do too much before you're ready."
He smirked at her tone, at the way her hand had never once stopped its path through his hair.
"You're so sexy when you're being all caring. Like a nurse."
She rolled her eyes.
"Get some sleep."
"I could just pull you in this bed with me, you know."
"And I could kill you right now," she snapped, her tone suggesting that she was only half-joking.
"My idea is more fun."
He was determined to make her smile, but she sighed, shaking her head.
"Get some rest, Jethro," she said softly, standing up and leaning down to kiss him carefully.
"I like my idea better. I could blow your mind."
"Sure, you could," she murmured, kissing him again, "Get some rest. I'll be right here until they kick me out."
He could feel the exhaustion creeping up on him, in spite of his attempts to fight it, and his hazy blue eyes found the clear green of his wife's, lingering on them with every blink. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry for making her worry, wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but he found that his eyes were suddenly impossibly heavy, and the last thing he was aware of was the soft press of her lips on his temple as sleep claimed him again.
A/N: Poor Gibbs. Until next time, my loves!