Paris to Serbia (Ch 10)
Series: Paris to Serbia
Chapter 10: Answers
Author: vegawriters
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Jethro/Hollis (this chapter)
Rating: Adult
Timeframe: Early 5th season.
A/N: I’ve always had a problem with the idea that Jenny rose to her position in NCIS so quickly. So this series gives some history not only to Gibbs and Shepard, but also to Jenny’s past and where her skills lie.
Disclaimer: I keep falling in love with beautiful characters already written by other people. If CBS is looking for a young, up and coming writer who will devote herself wholeheartedly to the process, I’m the right girl. Otherwise, I make no money from this. NCIS, Jenny, Gibbs, and the team belong to other people. I’m just walking with them for a while.
Summary: She was Jenny Shepard. Who in just a few years would be a blip in the history books, a special page in a fifth grade social studies text, the single page devoted to the women who made history.
2007
The fifth time she dropped her glasses, Jenny tossed the file she was trying to read across her desk hard enough that it slid and scattered papers to the floor. Her left leg bounced hard enough that she was sure she was going to pull a muscle, and she could no longer blame the caffeine that kept her going through the dinnertime conference call. Her late night coffee date with Condi had only soothed her nerves, not added to them. She shouldn’t be so twitchy. A tired glance at the clock brought forth a long-suffering sigh. Lunch was ten hours ago and Cynthia ordered dinner for her, but it was sitting in the fridge, ignored. But the very thought of food made her stomach turn and even the sip of now lukewarm water she took from her water bottle threatened to come back on her.
A flu bug has been going around the Director’s Club and she’d managed to avoid it so far even though Lou had been down on and off for two of the last four months. But she and Vance were scheduled to be on a plane to Cairo next week - which was really the last thing she wanted to do. If she didn’t have a security detail assigned, she’d fully expect for her deputy director to slip a knife between her ribs in her sleep. After Cairo there’s the UN and time with a different deputy director, but at least this one doesn’t want her dead. When she took the job, she knew she’d be sleeping when she was dead, but right now, death feels preferable. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Again, she dropped her glasses and she pressed her fingers into her eyes. Her head ached, her leg won’t stop twitching, and she really hoped that Cynthia hadn’t gone home because she needed to apologize for yelling like she did earlier. Jenny had no idea where the mood swing came from, but suddenly, the world had tilted and she had been yelling like her assistant had ruined travel plans rather than botched picking up her dry cleaning.
When she stood, her legs wobbled, and she blamed the lack of food. Really, she needed to eat. Her toes curled into the cheap carpeting in her office as she walked toward the door, and it took four tries for her hand to turn the lever. Cynthia jumped up when Jenny emerged.
"Cynthia," her voice felt very soft and far away, "I’m sorry for snapping earlier. I don’t know what came over me." Her assistant nodded an acceptance to the apology and then took a step forward.
"Are you okay, Director?"
"I’m fine. Just tired I think."
"Should I call for the car?"
The car. Going home. It sounded like a good idea but her couch was so much closer. "Yes." She refused to pitch forward in front of Cynthia - it was just the flu anyway - and headed back into her office to gather her things.
When she woke in her bed the next morning, she couldn't remember how she got there.
***
"You are lucky I like coffee the way you make it." Jethro chuckled as he padded into his kitchen. Hollis leaned against the counter, dressed in one of his t-shirts and a pair of very short running shorts. God she had great legs.
"You’re lucky you had coffee beans. I had to hunt for them. You know, keeping them fresh in the freezer only works when you aren’t keeping frozen fish next to it. So if this smells like trout, it’s your fault."
He chuckled and stretched. "Forgot to make a store run earlier." He walked to where she stood and wrapped his arms around her. Even first thing in the morning she always smelled good. Something about her body wash, or shampoo, or how he enjoyed the lingering scents of their nightly activities.
"Something about the hours you keep and how you live on takeout."
He smirked. "You live on takeout too, Hol."
Her arms went up around his neck and she pressed her lips to his. Jethro held onto her as they kissed, glad for the actions that didn’t have to lead to words. He’d almost said it last night, almost confessed how he felt, but didn’t want it to happen in a state of post coital bliss. In the light of day he felt no different, but he was terrified what saying the words might do to them. Hollis had made it clear that she wanted something permanent with him but he just wasn’t sure that the feelings in his gut translated to long term bliss. It was one thing to have fun and get along now, while they were both working and married to their jobs. What happened when she retired? What happened when they started bitching at each other for the little things? So rather than think, he kissed her, gently lifting her to the counter and stepping between her open legs. Her ankles crossed behind him and he sighed softly, feeling secure rather than trapped.
"I’ll talk to my boss about those hours," he chuckled. Hollis grinned devilishly and he groaned, knowing it was coming. "What?"
"Tell me about your boss," she teased lightly.
"She’s one of the most brilliant law enforcement officers in the country and I still think she’s a better field agent than director." The rush of emotion when it came to Jenny was obvious and he saw the slight change in Hollis’ eyes. But, she had no reason to worry. He wasn’t going to leave her for Jenny any time soon, but he had a feeling that if he didn’t find a way to balance his feelings, Hollis would leave him. Love or not, she was clearly tired of competing. "Why do you ask when it makes you uncomfortable?"
"Because unlike your other ex wives, she’s in your life every single day."
"Jenny isn’t an ex wife."
"She might as well be."
Hollis was right. And Jenny was everything but a former wife. "It’s long and complicated, Hol."
"I don’t plan on going anywhere any time soon, Jethro."
Squirming slightly, trying to not get lost in the memories of when he’d been completely happy, he tried to answer her question. "We were undercover in Europe together for a long time and then we were both recalled to the states. She was made the first female agent afloat in the agency and spent time out on the Ronald Reagan. I worked MCRT here. But then we went back to Europe." He didn’t want to get into the details - the mistakes made in Paris the first time, the state sanctioned executions, the gun rings and smuggling operations. He didn’t want to tell her about the engagement ring he still kept, along with a box of Jenny’s things he’d never managed to return. Her copy of War and Peace that he’d bought for her in Moscow. The green dress that brought out her eyes, the one she’d been wearing the night he proposed, when they went to dinner after she got off her dreaded agent afloat detail. After they’d made love in the backseat of his car she’d told him her new orders sent her to Paris. How lucky, he’d mused. They were going together.
Hollis just gave him a look and evaded his attempts to kiss away the question. Sighing, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and looked into the eyes he wanted so much to fall in love with. "She’s the one who got away," he admitted, "but it was also a long time ago and it’s hard to work with her some days."
"So, when you told me, back when all of this started, that sometimes people want something different ... you really were talking about yourself."
"Yes."
"I thought so. Wasn’t sure." Her slim, strong hands rested on his shoulders and this time, she let him kiss her. "Remember when love was easier?"
"Real love never is," he countered. And, looking at her, he knew that he was willing to handle the bumps that came with loving Hollis. He only hoped she was willing to handle the bumps that came with loving him. She kissed him again and he fell into it, relishing in the smell of her body, the way she molded herself against him. They weren’t perfect, but that was the point. Perfect was only an illusion.
Most of the time.
He sighed and stroked her cheek as they broke apart. "You’re really planning your retirement?"
"Really, Jethro. I’ve devoted my entire adult life to the military. I want to enjoy what I have left."
He looked into her eyes. "And you want to stay in D.C?"
"I don’t know." She ran her hands down his arms and linked his fingers. "It depends on what I have to stay for."
He really didn’t know what to say. His brain was at war with itself, knowing that he needed to give her some kind of response, some kind of reason to not take her life and move it to Hawaii - which seemed to be her preferred destination at the moment. But if he was retiring, he was going to Mexico. He wanted sandy beaches and solitude. But he also wanted her. Maybe it was time to think about compromise. Actions were always better than words, so he kissed her, sliding his hands up under the t-shirt of his she wore, stroking his fingers along her rib cage and up, to the breasts he loved devoting time to. Her entire body was so responsive and she arched, lifting her arms, and he tugged the shirt from her. There was nothing but skin under the running shorts and he slipped one finger down, teasing her. Actions always spoke louder and they kept him from having to focus on the conversation they really needed to have. What worried him was that Hollis understood him and knew he was avoiding. She’d only put up with it for so long. But right now, she was willing to give him leeway to take her right here, on his counter top, with the coffee perking behind them.
He loved her. He just wasn’t sure what it meant for the future.
***
"You know what I’m suddenly thinking about?" Jenny said as the elderly doctor came through her door and locked it behind him. "Remember that op when I was first assigned to field work? We were running from Salvo through the streets of London. My feet were sliced up because I couldn’t run in those hooker heels and you had to stitch me up."
"I do remember," Ducky’s voice had a forced lightness to it. He was nervous. "I remember you were a very good patient as well."
"Actually, I was passed out from the pain, if I remember correctly."
"Yes." Ducky smiled but shook his head. "Jenny..."
"It isn’t just a persistent flu bug is it?"
"No." He let out a long sigh and Jenny stayed at the window, staring toward the river. Her hands shook. "The work I’ve done points to Huntington’s, Jenny. I’m sorry." He paused and she plunged forward, trying to tackle the problem like she tackled cases.
She swallowed hard, nodding. "What next?"
"Specialists, Jenny. You need to take this to the next level. There’s only so much my tests show. You need definitive proof."
"I take it to the next level and I lose my job, Ducky." She sighed and rubbed the tension from a knot in her neck. "How long can I still work?"
"Right now, you are in early enough stages that you can work until you can no longer do your duties. But you have to look at the long term ramifications. You have to start planning."
His earnest voice threatened tears, but she took a deep breath and forced them down. "So, what can you do?"
A long pause and she heard him shift a bit. "Clearly, I can learn more about Huntington’s."
She turned, finally, and forced a sad smile at him. "Thank you, Ducky. I’ll come see you later, all right?"
He nodded, matching her sad smile with one of his own before stepping back to the door. It shut behind the doctor and Jenny collapsed into her chair, trying to take calming breaths. She wouldn’t cry over this. She couldn’t. She’d known it was coming for years. She knew the signs: the tightness in her hands, the mood swings, the tremors in her legs. But the part of her that wanted to rail against the world wanted to send a letter to her mother, bitching about how it wasn’t fair that she’d developed the condition while her mother was still healthy and her sister showed no signs.
Biting her lip so hard it bled, she drew a knee up to her chest and rested her forehead against it. She was tired, so tired, and the thought of going to her dinner with Congressman Summers and then to a budget planning session just felt like too much. Would they somehow already know? Would they see her differently when they did? She was Jenny Shepard, first female head of an armed federal agency. She had more confirmed kills to her name than most military men. She was on the fast track to something more than running NCIS. Already, she knew, her name had appeared on short lists for positions at State and Emily’s List wanted her to run for office.
She was Jenny Shepard. Who in just a few years would be a blip in the history books, a special page in a fifth grade social studies text, the single page devoted to the women who made history. Jethro would get more face time than she would. No one elected senators with Huntingtons. No one put someone like her in a position in the cabinet. She’d serve her time and then Vance, fucking Leon Vance, would come into power. He’d taint the agency just by sitting in the chair. And no one would know what he did to her, to other innocents, all in the name of so called national security. She’d take the knowledge of what really happened in Serbia, Marseille, and Positano to her grave.
Her intercom beeped and she jumped, reaching for it. "Yes, Cynthia"
"You need to head out for your meeting with Congressman Summers, Director."
Jenny closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Life, for now, continued on.
"Give me five minutes, Cynthia. I’ll meet the detail downstairs."
All she could think as she gathered her briefcase and files was that this was going to kill Jethro when he eventually did find out.
TBC ...
Chapter 10: Answers
Author: vegawriters
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Jethro/Hollis (this chapter)
Rating: Adult
Timeframe: Early 5th season.
A/N: I’ve always had a problem with the idea that Jenny rose to her position in NCIS so quickly. So this series gives some history not only to Gibbs and Shepard, but also to Jenny’s past and where her skills lie.
Disclaimer: I keep falling in love with beautiful characters already written by other people. If CBS is looking for a young, up and coming writer who will devote herself wholeheartedly to the process, I’m the right girl. Otherwise, I make no money from this. NCIS, Jenny, Gibbs, and the team belong to other people. I’m just walking with them for a while.
Summary: She was Jenny Shepard. Who in just a few years would be a blip in the history books, a special page in a fifth grade social studies text, the single page devoted to the women who made history.
2007
The fifth time she dropped her glasses, Jenny tossed the file she was trying to read across her desk hard enough that it slid and scattered papers to the floor. Her left leg bounced hard enough that she was sure she was going to pull a muscle, and she could no longer blame the caffeine that kept her going through the dinnertime conference call. Her late night coffee date with Condi had only soothed her nerves, not added to them. She shouldn’t be so twitchy. A tired glance at the clock brought forth a long-suffering sigh. Lunch was ten hours ago and Cynthia ordered dinner for her, but it was sitting in the fridge, ignored. But the very thought of food made her stomach turn and even the sip of now lukewarm water she took from her water bottle threatened to come back on her.
A flu bug has been going around the Director’s Club and she’d managed to avoid it so far even though Lou had been down on and off for two of the last four months. But she and Vance were scheduled to be on a plane to Cairo next week - which was really the last thing she wanted to do. If she didn’t have a security detail assigned, she’d fully expect for her deputy director to slip a knife between her ribs in her sleep. After Cairo there’s the UN and time with a different deputy director, but at least this one doesn’t want her dead. When she took the job, she knew she’d be sleeping when she was dead, but right now, death feels preferable. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Again, she dropped her glasses and she pressed her fingers into her eyes. Her head ached, her leg won’t stop twitching, and she really hoped that Cynthia hadn’t gone home because she needed to apologize for yelling like she did earlier. Jenny had no idea where the mood swing came from, but suddenly, the world had tilted and she had been yelling like her assistant had ruined travel plans rather than botched picking up her dry cleaning.
When she stood, her legs wobbled, and she blamed the lack of food. Really, she needed to eat. Her toes curled into the cheap carpeting in her office as she walked toward the door, and it took four tries for her hand to turn the lever. Cynthia jumped up when Jenny emerged.
"Cynthia," her voice felt very soft and far away, "I’m sorry for snapping earlier. I don’t know what came over me." Her assistant nodded an acceptance to the apology and then took a step forward.
"Are you okay, Director?"
"I’m fine. Just tired I think."
"Should I call for the car?"
The car. Going home. It sounded like a good idea but her couch was so much closer. "Yes." She refused to pitch forward in front of Cynthia - it was just the flu anyway - and headed back into her office to gather her things.
When she woke in her bed the next morning, she couldn't remember how she got there.
***
"You are lucky I like coffee the way you make it." Jethro chuckled as he padded into his kitchen. Hollis leaned against the counter, dressed in one of his t-shirts and a pair of very short running shorts. God she had great legs.
"You’re lucky you had coffee beans. I had to hunt for them. You know, keeping them fresh in the freezer only works when you aren’t keeping frozen fish next to it. So if this smells like trout, it’s your fault."
He chuckled and stretched. "Forgot to make a store run earlier." He walked to where she stood and wrapped his arms around her. Even first thing in the morning she always smelled good. Something about her body wash, or shampoo, or how he enjoyed the lingering scents of their nightly activities.
"Something about the hours you keep and how you live on takeout."
He smirked. "You live on takeout too, Hol."
Her arms went up around his neck and she pressed her lips to his. Jethro held onto her as they kissed, glad for the actions that didn’t have to lead to words. He’d almost said it last night, almost confessed how he felt, but didn’t want it to happen in a state of post coital bliss. In the light of day he felt no different, but he was terrified what saying the words might do to them. Hollis had made it clear that she wanted something permanent with him but he just wasn’t sure that the feelings in his gut translated to long term bliss. It was one thing to have fun and get along now, while they were both working and married to their jobs. What happened when she retired? What happened when they started bitching at each other for the little things? So rather than think, he kissed her, gently lifting her to the counter and stepping between her open legs. Her ankles crossed behind him and he sighed softly, feeling secure rather than trapped.
"I’ll talk to my boss about those hours," he chuckled. Hollis grinned devilishly and he groaned, knowing it was coming. "What?"
"Tell me about your boss," she teased lightly.
"She’s one of the most brilliant law enforcement officers in the country and I still think she’s a better field agent than director." The rush of emotion when it came to Jenny was obvious and he saw the slight change in Hollis’ eyes. But, she had no reason to worry. He wasn’t going to leave her for Jenny any time soon, but he had a feeling that if he didn’t find a way to balance his feelings, Hollis would leave him. Love or not, she was clearly tired of competing. "Why do you ask when it makes you uncomfortable?"
"Because unlike your other ex wives, she’s in your life every single day."
"Jenny isn’t an ex wife."
"She might as well be."
Hollis was right. And Jenny was everything but a former wife. "It’s long and complicated, Hol."
"I don’t plan on going anywhere any time soon, Jethro."
Squirming slightly, trying to not get lost in the memories of when he’d been completely happy, he tried to answer her question. "We were undercover in Europe together for a long time and then we were both recalled to the states. She was made the first female agent afloat in the agency and spent time out on the Ronald Reagan. I worked MCRT here. But then we went back to Europe." He didn’t want to get into the details - the mistakes made in Paris the first time, the state sanctioned executions, the gun rings and smuggling operations. He didn’t want to tell her about the engagement ring he still kept, along with a box of Jenny’s things he’d never managed to return. Her copy of War and Peace that he’d bought for her in Moscow. The green dress that brought out her eyes, the one she’d been wearing the night he proposed, when they went to dinner after she got off her dreaded agent afloat detail. After they’d made love in the backseat of his car she’d told him her new orders sent her to Paris. How lucky, he’d mused. They were going together.
Hollis just gave him a look and evaded his attempts to kiss away the question. Sighing, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and looked into the eyes he wanted so much to fall in love with. "She’s the one who got away," he admitted, "but it was also a long time ago and it’s hard to work with her some days."
"So, when you told me, back when all of this started, that sometimes people want something different ... you really were talking about yourself."
"Yes."
"I thought so. Wasn’t sure." Her slim, strong hands rested on his shoulders and this time, she let him kiss her. "Remember when love was easier?"
"Real love never is," he countered. And, looking at her, he knew that he was willing to handle the bumps that came with loving Hollis. He only hoped she was willing to handle the bumps that came with loving him. She kissed him again and he fell into it, relishing in the smell of her body, the way she molded herself against him. They weren’t perfect, but that was the point. Perfect was only an illusion.
Most of the time.
He sighed and stroked her cheek as they broke apart. "You’re really planning your retirement?"
"Really, Jethro. I’ve devoted my entire adult life to the military. I want to enjoy what I have left."
He looked into her eyes. "And you want to stay in D.C?"
"I don’t know." She ran her hands down his arms and linked his fingers. "It depends on what I have to stay for."
He really didn’t know what to say. His brain was at war with itself, knowing that he needed to give her some kind of response, some kind of reason to not take her life and move it to Hawaii - which seemed to be her preferred destination at the moment. But if he was retiring, he was going to Mexico. He wanted sandy beaches and solitude. But he also wanted her. Maybe it was time to think about compromise. Actions were always better than words, so he kissed her, sliding his hands up under the t-shirt of his she wore, stroking his fingers along her rib cage and up, to the breasts he loved devoting time to. Her entire body was so responsive and she arched, lifting her arms, and he tugged the shirt from her. There was nothing but skin under the running shorts and he slipped one finger down, teasing her. Actions always spoke louder and they kept him from having to focus on the conversation they really needed to have. What worried him was that Hollis understood him and knew he was avoiding. She’d only put up with it for so long. But right now, she was willing to give him leeway to take her right here, on his counter top, with the coffee perking behind them.
He loved her. He just wasn’t sure what it meant for the future.
***
"You know what I’m suddenly thinking about?" Jenny said as the elderly doctor came through her door and locked it behind him. "Remember that op when I was first assigned to field work? We were running from Salvo through the streets of London. My feet were sliced up because I couldn’t run in those hooker heels and you had to stitch me up."
"I do remember," Ducky’s voice had a forced lightness to it. He was nervous. "I remember you were a very good patient as well."
"Actually, I was passed out from the pain, if I remember correctly."
"Yes." Ducky smiled but shook his head. "Jenny..."
"It isn’t just a persistent flu bug is it?"
"No." He let out a long sigh and Jenny stayed at the window, staring toward the river. Her hands shook. "The work I’ve done points to Huntington’s, Jenny. I’m sorry." He paused and she plunged forward, trying to tackle the problem like she tackled cases.
She swallowed hard, nodding. "What next?"
"Specialists, Jenny. You need to take this to the next level. There’s only so much my tests show. You need definitive proof."
"I take it to the next level and I lose my job, Ducky." She sighed and rubbed the tension from a knot in her neck. "How long can I still work?"
"Right now, you are in early enough stages that you can work until you can no longer do your duties. But you have to look at the long term ramifications. You have to start planning."
His earnest voice threatened tears, but she took a deep breath and forced them down. "So, what can you do?"
A long pause and she heard him shift a bit. "Clearly, I can learn more about Huntington’s."
She turned, finally, and forced a sad smile at him. "Thank you, Ducky. I’ll come see you later, all right?"
He nodded, matching her sad smile with one of his own before stepping back to the door. It shut behind the doctor and Jenny collapsed into her chair, trying to take calming breaths. She wouldn’t cry over this. She couldn’t. She’d known it was coming for years. She knew the signs: the tightness in her hands, the mood swings, the tremors in her legs. But the part of her that wanted to rail against the world wanted to send a letter to her mother, bitching about how it wasn’t fair that she’d developed the condition while her mother was still healthy and her sister showed no signs.
Biting her lip so hard it bled, she drew a knee up to her chest and rested her forehead against it. She was tired, so tired, and the thought of going to her dinner with Congressman Summers and then to a budget planning session just felt like too much. Would they somehow already know? Would they see her differently when they did? She was Jenny Shepard, first female head of an armed federal agency. She had more confirmed kills to her name than most military men. She was on the fast track to something more than running NCIS. Already, she knew, her name had appeared on short lists for positions at State and Emily’s List wanted her to run for office.
She was Jenny Shepard. Who in just a few years would be a blip in the history books, a special page in a fifth grade social studies text, the single page devoted to the women who made history. Jethro would get more face time than she would. No one elected senators with Huntingtons. No one put someone like her in a position in the cabinet. She’d serve her time and then Vance, fucking Leon Vance, would come into power. He’d taint the agency just by sitting in the chair. And no one would know what he did to her, to other innocents, all in the name of so called national security. She’d take the knowledge of what really happened in Serbia, Marseille, and Positano to her grave.
Her intercom beeped and she jumped, reaching for it. "Yes, Cynthia"
"You need to head out for your meeting with Congressman Summers, Director."
Jenny closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Life, for now, continued on.
"Give me five minutes, Cynthia. I’ll meet the detail downstairs."
All she could think as she gathered her briefcase and files was that this was going to kill Jethro when he eventually did find out.
TBC ...