Crimson Lead Bar, Washington D.C. 2006

Jenny felt like hell as she hastily grabbed her now-filled glass of bourbon, knowing that it would do nothing to help matters, but she craved the numbness that it gave her. It might've been her fourth, or fifth, she hadn't kept track, and it was nights like this where she cursed her ability to hold her liquor. She just wanted to forget.

She tossed the drink back, swallowing it harshly and licking her lips as she set the now nearly-empty glass back down.

"Fancy seeing you here, Director Shepard," a familiar voice greeted her. "Congratulations on your promotion. Saw your interview a few months back." Diane slid into the empty barstool next to her.

Jenny muttered hello, her focus on her drink as she cursed her rotten luck. Of course she'd run into Diane after eight years and just as Gibbs has left her. Left, she corrected, there was no them for him to have left her.

"What number is that?" Her voice was tinged with concern as she pointed a red nail at the glass that Jenny had lifted to her mouth. She swallowed, giving a half-hearted shrug.

Diane pursed her lips. "What has Leroy done this time? I know you've been working with him now that you're Director. I can only assume how many glasses of wine that would require to keep me from snapping his neck. Or bourbon, in your case." She eyed the glass that Jenny held.

"He left," is all she managed to get out before slumping down slightly. Her eyes fluttered shut, trying not to relieve the way he slung his arm around Ducky's shoulder and made his way to the elevator. But the memory resurfaced despite her attempts and she felt her heart shatter all over again.

"He left?"

Jenny propped herself up weakly on her elbows and relayed the past 48 hours to her companion. Getting the call that Gibbs was in an explosion. Leaving the White House to speed to the hospital, trying not to think the worse. Forcing her way into the ER because nobody would ever keep her from him. Spending the night by his side. Going into the office to find something to help explain his coma.

Finding out about his first wife.

And his daughter.

Her voice shook as she explained, but she managed to get it out.

"Hold on-" Diane interrupted. "He never told you?"

She shook her head numbly, hating the surprise in her companions' voice. Diane's eyebrows are furrowed together and Jenny couldn't stop to think about what that meant. She merely lifted her glass to her lips again, hoping to lose herself in the taste of bourbon.

"You guys did get together?"

"Europe." She set the glass down.

Diane signaled to the bartender and ordered a glass of wine, her brows furrowed. "He didn't tell you?"

"No."

"How long were you together? Honestly, I thought the next time I'd be seeing you, I could offer you an invite to the ex-wives of Leroy Jethro Gibbs club. Either that, or you were smart enough to take my advice."

Jenny tilted her head. "You could say that," she murmured.

"Now you have to spill." Diane thanked the bartender and took a dainty sip of wine.

"It was like you said, he cared, just-"

"Just not enough."

"I hated that it wasn't-" She rubbed her forehead. "Enough, I mean. I felt like I had failed. Like I should be stronger, but-" she cut herself off, not wanting to get into her other reasons for leaving. Gibbs didn't even know about her father.

"I know the feeling. He's a good man, he really is. But the only person he's going to love is Shannon." Diane gave a half-hearted shrug. "There's no moving past that."

Jenny felt sick to her stomach at the thought. Even when she left, she had always clung to the knowledge that somehow, in some way, Gibbs had cared about her. And since she had come back, she thought that maybe- but now-

But now, she wasn't so sure. Maybe she had always been a replacement.

"How did you deal with it?" she asked hoarsely.

Diane let out a wry laugh. "Honey, I didn't. I'm an ex-wife for a reason. I knew I deserved better."

Jenny blamed the next thing she said on the amount of bourbon she had. Otherwise, she would have never been so transparent.

"I don't think I could find anyone else." The second the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to slap her hand over her mouth as if that would take it back. She couldn't believe she said that to Diane of all people. She took a sip of her bourbon, avoiding the redhead's gaze.

Diane let out a soft sigh and murmured, "Sometimes, I think that too."

Jenny raised her head warily, slightly shocked, just as she was with her own confession, that Diane would tell her that. But, she supposed, if she was going to tell anyone, it might as well be someone who would understand.

"Fornell?"

"Didn't work out." Diane rummaged in her purse. "We have a daughter though." She handed Jenny a picture of a little girl with reddish-blonde hair.

"She's adorable. What's her name?"

"Emily, she just turned seven." Diane took the photo back, a fond smile on her face as she tucked it back in her purse.

Jenny tilted her drink back and forth, watching the liquid move. She felt Diane's eyes on her and almost expected the next question out of her mouth.

"So you took my advice?"

"I left him." Jenny lifted her glass. "With a letter," she added, taking a sip.

"A letter?" It wasn't a judgment, rather a question posed by curiosity.

The bourbon had truly loosened her tongue. "I couldn't do it face to face. If I had-"

"He would've said all the right things and you would've stayed," Diane said, understanding in her voice. "Whenever I got close to leaving, there would be one moment where he'd be the perfect man and I told myself I'd give him one more chance."

"Exactly."

"Well, good for you, getting out before you ended up with a ring on your finger and too many shattered pieces of your heart than you know what to do with."

Jenny didn't respond. She wasn't sure she had.

The redhead next to her didn't seem to know what the silence meant as she took a sip of her wine. "You didn't know about Shannon and Kelly?"

Jenny's hand shook as she held her glass, hating the way the mention of their names sent a pain like a thousand knives on her skin shooting through her. It hurt on so many levels, for so many different reasons. Why hadn't he told her?

"No." It was barely more than a breath of air.

"Interesting." It seemed like Diane didn't know what to make of it either. "Leroy left?"

"The case-" Jenny sighed, running her hand through her hair. "They didn't listen to him, took matters into their own hands. People died."

"That's horrible."

Jenny was silent for a moment. "So he quit."

"That doesn't sound like him."

Jenny scoffed. "I would agree, but apparently I didn't know him as well as I thought." She buried her head in her hands. "God, that sounds so bad. His wife and child were murdered."

"I know how you feel."

Jenny felt a hand on her back and felt a swell of gratitude for the redhead. "That means a lot, Diane."

"Anytime you need to talk, I'm here."

Jenny lifted her head to see a sad smile on her companion's face.

"God knows all my friends thought I was crazy, staying as long as I did." She lifted her wine. "Who knows, it could be therapeutic for both of us."

Jenny's lip twitched in amusement. "Who would've thought?"

"Oh don't get me wrong. I should hate your guts. But I live for the look on Leroy's face when he realizes we know each other."

"If he comes back." Jenny swallowed, the reality of his departure hitting her all over again. What if she never saw him again? Would she just be left with the question of whether or not she meant anything to him?

"He'll be back."

"I hope you're right." It was a near plea, almost begging something, someone, to bring him back to her. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that she got the rug yanked out from underneath her just as she thought – hoped – that they would find their way back to what she had abandoned.

It wasn't fair that she sat here now, seeking comfort from Diane of all people, needing someone who understood everything she couldn't begin to articulate.

It wasn't fair that she had run into the same wall again, the inexplicable helplessness because she was drowning in her love for him, and she couldn't even say he felt the same, anywhere close to the same. And if all she had ever been was a replacement-

If that love that ran through her body like blood meant nothing to him – that every time he had kissed her, held her, made love to her, he had been imagining a different woman – that was something she could not bear.

But underneath it all – the confusion, the anger, the hurt – she couldn't help but hate herself for her own arrogance that caught her by the throat again. One thing was abundantly clear – the man, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, her former partner, was not someone she could claim to know.

She hadn't known a damn thing.

A/N: I apologize for forgetting to post yesterday! (I'll post another chapter to make up for it) Things at college have been SO BUSY! On a bright side, I watched the new NCIS: Origins episode today and it was so good! I absolutely love the show (I'll love it even more if they have a whole season devoted to Jenny and Gibbs - that is what I am living for)