NCIS 1. Snakes

_A/N: Ok, I honestly don't know why I'm writing this (how many of my stories have began with this?). It's not even really funny, or anything. It is more of a fic that establishes a connection between Gibbs/Jenny pre-Paris._

_Like my first smut fic, this is my first pre-series fic. Give me a bit of leeway. This fic isn't really gonna have any depth, I'll be lucky if it gets past 2,000 words._

_DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN NCIS._

* * *

"I swear Burley if I catch you or Decker going through my desk again. You'll be _lacking _some parts that I can guarantee you'll miss," she hissed.

It was a Tuesday morning, and the MCRT was totally lacking in anything to do. Having had a case this previous weekend that was relatively easy in wrapping up, and spending Monday doing the resulting paperwork. This morning the resident Probie of the team had come in, only to catch two of the men on her team going through her desk. Let's just say two staplers narrowly missing both of their heads, had sent them scurrying back.

Hence the reason she was currently standing in the middle of the bullpen with her hands on her hips, and why Stan and Will were currently trying to use each other as body shields.

She arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow in what she hoped was a menacing manner. Her efforts were rewarded with Thing 1 and Thing 2 tripping over each other, while trying to get away from her.

Internally laughing her butt off, she opened her mouth to make another threat, when-

"You disappoint me Shepard," a gruff voice barked, and she took a moment to make elevator eyes at her boss as he made his way to his desk. Barely sparing them a glance. But the appearance of Gibbs seemed to bolster Tweedle- Dee's and Tweedle-Dum's confidence considering Burley called out a cocky,"Yeah, Shepard! You disappoint the boss!"

While Burley disentangled himself from the position him and Decker had ended up sprawled out in, Jenny waited patiently for Gibbs to elaborate.

"Haven't I taught you not to hesitate?" He asked, acting as if Stan had never spoken, and sending Decker and Burley stumbling again. Jenny smirked, and chuckling softly, her eyes locked with Gibbs and he winked.

_'Such a tease,' _she thought.

Their intense contact was broken by the shrill ringing of his desk phone, and as he bent to answer it she turned back to the arguing twosome with considerably lot less anger.

"Grab your bags we got a case," said Gibbs a moment later. On his way past he made sure Decker and Burley each got a slap to the back of the head.

"Thank you Boss," they chimed in unison, Jenny snickered and making faces at Burley from behind Gibbs back. Decker was once again the mature one and asked Gibbs where they were going.

"Lance Corporal found dead at an illegal snake farm near the Anacostia. Animal Control and Venom One are there now," he spoke without turning around, only then noticing that the bickering from behind him had gone suspiciously quiet.

"Burley, stop making faces at Shepard," sometimes he felt like he was freaking kindergarten teacher!

As they stepped onto the elevator and Gibbs had failed to yet here Jenny's exclamation of triumph, only Burley's petulant moaning,_'Why does Gibbs never get his manhood threatened?' _He cut his eyes at the redhead standing beside him.

Was it just him or had she always been that pale?

* * *

That 'illegal snake farm' had been located in a densely populated forest area bordering the Anacostia, much to Burley's annoyance. On the ride to the farthest place they could drive in at (yes they could not drive the van all the way in) two murder had almost been committed by Gibbs.

The boys only defense being,"The back isn't exactly comfortable Boss," pleaded Decker, and,"Why does Shepard always get to ride in the front," whined Burley. They were annoying enough to distract her from the fact that they were going to a snake _farm _to send a scowl their way in her visor mirror.

Gibbs only reply had been,"She annoys me the least." Now _that _had made her smile.

Luckily (for them) they spent the rest of the ride pouting in silence. Only when Gibbs had pulled to the side on the primitive dirt road they were on, did they speak again.

"Um, Boss. You aren't actually going to kill us out here and dump are bodies are you? 'Cuz I'm pretty sure you could get away with it, it isn't like Shepard would actually snitch on you. But, I'm pretty sure it would be against some ancient Marine Corps morals. Not that you're ancient or anything. You're not even ten years older than m-," Decker rambled on. While Jenny and Burley were snickering Gibbs sat stone-faced. She could practically sense his patience wearing thin.

"DECKER! Shut up, before I slap you so hard you'll grandchildren will feel it," Gibbs growled, making both men jump, and Jenny giggle. When Gibbs turned and glared at her she immediately rearranged her facial features into a mock solemn expression. Earning her an eye roll in response.

_'Awwww, Gibbs you're just a big teddy bear,' _she thought fondly.

As if he could read her thoughts (which sometimes she secretly thought he could), he threw open the driver side door and bailed out of the van, she quickly followed suit. After jumping over a mud puddle Gibbs had so kindly parked her in, she walked around to the back double doors where he was already getting their supplies together.

"Steve, Decker, get your asses out here. We have to hike the rest of the way in," barked Gibbs, taking his frustrations out on one of their backpacks that wouldn't fit another roll of evidence bags. When he started shaking the backpack violently, Jenny reached up and placed both hands soothingly on his arm, stopping him. Their eyes locked once more, she felt the muscles rippling on his bicep, and wanted to moan (_that _would be embarrassing). Still holding his gaze, she ran her hands up over his forearm until her tiny hands covered his large ones, and gently she took the pack from his grip. Deftly she slipped the roll into the pack, and still locked in the moment with him, she zipped it up also.

"Are...we interrupting something?" Decker asked, while Burley simply ran a calculating gaze over the scene. Both, Gibbs and Jenny had jumped apart each trying desperately to act like that little 'episode' had meant nothing. It didn't help that the both of them looked as guilty as if they had been caught having a quickie against the tailgate.

"No. Here take your packs," Gibbs recovered first and started handing out task while she concentrated on the pack she was holding. When she looked back up she realized that Stan and Decker had already gone on ahead with their gear, and it was just her and Gibbs again. She tossed the pack she was holding over one shoulder and stepped back so Gibbs could close the double doors. When he turned back around and realized that she was still there he cocked an eyebrow in question.

Surely he'd realized that while him and the others were carrying two or three, she was still only carrying the one. When she gestured to the three cases he was carrying and the one she was carrying, he shrugged in what she was sure he thought was in an innocent way. But, she was adept enough to notice the teasing glint in his eye.

"Chauvinist," she accused in a whisper, mocking him gently.

Again he just shrugged as if to say, _'Who? Me?'_.

With a bark of laughter she took off, Gibbs staying behind her. You know, in case she tripped.

With a wicked smirk that he couldn't see, she made sure to add an extra sway to her hips.

It was only fair that he had a reward. After all, he was only looking out for her safety?!

After a few minutes walking down the trail, they came to a fork in the road. Burley and Decker who were ahead of them stopped and looked to Gibbs for guidance. Jenny stared straight ahead, trying to fight the smile on her lip as he managed to pry his gaze away from her butt, and answer the question.

"Yea, right," Gibbs said gruffly emphasizing the direction with a nod of his head.

They started moving again, Decker and Burley murmuring to themselves, while Jenny and Gibbs followed behind silently. The trail they were on now was rougher with steep inclines, and narrow to the point that it was like the trail didn't even exsist at all.

It also didn't help that due to the latest storm there were large logs and fallen trees blocking their path.

The first impediment she cleared with ease, dropping down behind Stan and Will who had apparently waited to help the poor female Probie.

Granted all three of them looked and sounded like a heard of stampeding elephants compared to Gibbs. Whom they watched clear the log with only one foot hold them drop to the ground silently.

Boy was she glad Gibbs was playing on their side against the metaphorical war on evil.

Without further ado they continued on their merry little way. Crossing a few more limbs that went in about the same way as the first; Decker and Burley stumbling over them in the lead, then waiting on her, and lastly with Gibbs showing them all up with his marine skill awesomeness.

So no broken bones yet, Jenny considered that a good sign.

As clichéd as it felt, they were approaching the light in the end of the tunnel. About twenty yards ahead of them the dank little trail ended, and opened on to what from their limited perspective to be a very big clearing. In the clearing, around thirty yards from where the trail opened into it, sat a dank little house. It was a low building, and either it had been made to look it or it _was _quite old considering it had one of those old-fashioned dog run's going straight through the middle.

She could see Animal Control and Venom One vans scattered all around it. And she made a vague note to ask one of the drivers later, on how _they'd_ managed to drive in.

But, for now, there was another obstacle in their little 'yellow brick' road to the _snake farm_. Damn Jenny thought she'd never been happier to see a humongous oak tree before.

Ahead of her, Stan and Will paused, looking around to see if there were ways to go around it. To the left of the trail where the dead branches of the tree lay, was just more densely packed trees, and with their luck if they tried to go that way they'd probably end up lost in the middle of the woods.

Well, not Gibbs of course, and she pretty much had it made because she was fairly confident Gibbs would take her with him.

But, her conscious wouldn't feel right leaving Decker and Burley to the wolves.

Apparently Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum had been thinking along the same lines considering they started inspecting the right side. Yet just when Jenny was about to tell them there was no way in hell they were going to get her to walk through what looked to be a murky little stream, where the..._snakes _probably hid out. Her knight in a polo and a Glock butted in-

"Just scale the damn thing," he ordered from behind her, and Jenny couldn't help but smirk and add a little movement to her hips...

because she could practically _feel _his eyes glued to her butt.

While her and Gibbs were playing a mental, silent, dancing around the topic version of grab-ass. Stan and Decker had managed to make their way on top of the tree, and with arms outstretched for balance they jumped off the other side. Bending their knees just right to absorb the impact without sending them sprawling in the mud.

Now it was her turn, slipping her little pack fully onto her back, she braced her hands on the side of the tree. Getting ready to hoist herself up, she felt a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. Turning to glance over her shoulder, she asked with her eyes what the hell was wrong now, because she was _trying _to get to a _snake farm_. Instead of an explanation, in typical Jethro fashion he muttered out a gruff, "Let me go first..."

Next thing she knows she's being gently pushed back, and watching as Jethro doesn't even use his arms. No, basically 'Mr. Superman' just ran up one side and down the other. Coming to a quiet landing beside his two other male agents who were wearing matching expressions of confusion.

With a simple roll of her eyes to express her displeasure with him, she went back to bracing her hands on the trunk. She was secretly just a little relieved when Decker and Burley quickly got bored and turned their backs on her-examining the scene from what they could see, and waiting for their Boss to give them the say so to go.

Gibbs turned around with them, but she could tell from the way he kept his body slightly angled towards her. That he was preparing himself to catch her if she fell.

It was the most likely reason on why he wanted to go first.

Showing off just the _tiniest _bit, she proudly displayed how she hoisted herself up with ease. Catching her balance on top of the trunk, she stood all the way up, resting her hands on her hips, and taking in their preliminary glimpses of the scene.

The body wasn't outside from what she could tell, and she realized it was in the little old building when she vaguely heard Decker asking Gibbs how Ducky was going to get the van back here. And Gibbs's short reply that, a coroner was on the scene already arranging transportation back to the Navy Yard so Ducky _didn't _have too.

She couldn't help the slight outtake of breath at that, if Ducky was driving out here they would probably find the van sinking in the river five days later.

Chuckling a bit, she saw out of the corner of her eye as Gibbs released his two male minions, and they made their way to the house. Their tasks apparently already delegated, and yet Jenny stayed on the trunk surveying the scene and Gibbs made no move to make her leave.

They stayed right there, watching as men and women from apparently Venom One came out of the building carry tanks and sacks.

That contained _snakes._

So very many _snakes _that just continued coming in the line of Venom One people and Animal Control.

She could literally feel her knees going weak, and the blood draining out of her face. For a moment it felt like she was about to faint, but she sure as hell was going to give the boys the joy of seeing her as a weak woman.

No, instead as the line coming out of the building was ending, she looked down at the bottom of the tree trunk and prepared to jump.

Only to see a curled up object twining up the tree...

..._and think it was a snake._

Without further ado she basically made to launch herself off the trunk with the intent of grabbing Jethro's SIG out of his holster and shooting at it until she got the thing. But she'd never claimed to be graceful or a kung-fu ninja adept at flying, so with an undignified squeak her foot slipped out from under her and she went flying in what she was sure was going to be an epic face-plant. Bracing herself for what she was sure going to be a broken arm, and a slimy crawly creature on her...she closed her eyes.

And suddenly she did stop, but not on the ground unlike what she'd expected.

Strong hands were clutching her hips tightly, and in a motion that felt so natural, she realized her arms were holding the shoulders of..._Jethro_. Cracking her eyes open she came to the sudden realization that their faces were only inches apart, and he was _holding _her_, _and damn if it didn't feel _right_.

Yet this wasn't a movie, so there were no passionate kisses, or declarations of love. Only a bastard with bright blue eyes and an insufferably sexy grin, who just had to open his mouth and goad her, "If you wanted to throw yourself at me, Jen. All you had to do was say so."

Ignoring him for the moment, she risked a glance back behind her-fully prepared to climb on Jethro's back if it was indeed a snake-only to catch sight of a vine.

_Right where her 'snake' had been. _Oh there was no way in hell she was telling him this.

He started to set her down, and she didn't miss the way her body slid down his, very deliberately if she had to guess. Though it wasn't like she minded, or didn't reciprocate. It also gave her some sudden inspiration.

Leaning up on tiptoes, she buried a hand in the short hair at the back of his neck, and pressed her body against his. She put her lips to his ear, and whispered, hot breath blowing over him, "If I _was _going to throw myself at you. It certainly wouldn't involve..._clothing_."

And just because she could do it and get away with it...

...she sucked lightly on his earlobe.

She pulled away quickly after that, giving him no time to grab her and push her against a tree. Even though she knew she wouldn't mind it one little bit, _that _was an urge they'd been fighting for a while now. Pushing it every now and again, but always toeing the line before it came into sight.

Though she swore to herself, the day his divorce with Diane was final, and she wasn't in the chain of command under him...

That line wouldn't just be crossed, it would be _obliterated_.

Pulling her mind out of the bedroom was no easy task, and she took the responsibility heavily on her shoulders alone. Because let's face it-when the end of the day came and went, Jethro was still just a poor guy.

Looking him in the eyes, "Photos Boss," she informed _him _of what _she _would be doing. And with those final words she sucked in a great deep breath, patted his cheek fondly, and took off towards the snake..._barn_? The camera magically appearing in her hands.

He watched her go with a slightly dazed expression.

But he shook it off when she and her _butt _were out of sight. Though far from out of mind, he made his way to Animal Control, Venom One, and a local little police officer who clearly had a suspect in custody.

All the while trying to put Jenny out of his mind, and the fact that she _had _looked pale.

* * *

He was in the middle of talking to a Venom One employee, and an Animal Control one. They were telling him about the snakes they had already...commandeered.

After a quick interview with the suspect the police officer had. He learned that; one, he owned this little...entourage, and two, that the man was clearly a little more than insane.

Though the coroner had already taken the body, from what he'd heard there was a gunshot wound. And he was almost one hundred percent sure that the gun used would have the snake's so..._loving _owner's prints.

It was an open-and-shut case if he ever saw one.

Now he was just getting a estimate to if they got all of the snakes from the building. They didn't need a snake from this _collection _to slip out into the general public or the wooded area, especially not since they'd learned of the more exotic species the man owned.

Well, they were doing fairly okay. After he'd managed to extract the number of snakes he owned from the suspect; Venom One and Animal Control had counted up.

Every venomous snake was accounted for, thank god.

But apparently there was one python missing.

Yes, a _bloody python!_

"Do you have any idea where it might be?" He growled at the two knobby kneed men in front of him. They cowered under his glare, and the Animal Control guy started babbling while the Venom One guy just started nodding along like a bobble-head.

"Since we extracted all the tanking, and heat lamps. He's gonna wanna find someplace warm. So we can assum-"

The man that Gibbs really thought could use a pocket protector to prefect his image, was cut-off. By an ear-piercing scream coming from the building, and before anyone else could move let alone react. Gibbs was sprinting as fast as he could the thirty yards between him and the house, his gun already cocked and in his hand. His heart pounded unmercifully in his chest the longer it took him to get there, because he _knew _that scream...

it was _Jenny._

_"JETHRO!"_

He picked up the pace.

* * *

Sprinting down the dog run, he found the room where the noise had come from.

The first room to his right, the door was opened and for a moment he was utterly baffled at what he saw.

It was a fairly large room, with an open concept, and it might've been the nut-jobs living room. It had a ratty sofa against the far left wall, a run down armchair with a lamp on the right side, and in the middle a large wooden table with two chairs.

All three pieces of furniture who currently housed all_ three _of his agents. Decker on the chair to the right, Burley the left, and Jenny on the table.

Oh, don't forget the large python that was slithering lazily towards them on the floor.

Now the scene, at any other time would've been laughable, and it still was to an extent. It looked like one of his agent's had interrupted the poor snake's naptime in the couch, if the fact that he was _still _slithering out of the bottom of it was anything to go by.

Dang the thing was huge.

Still it was kind of funny seeing the way Decker and Burley each jumped as the thing slunk nearer. Both of them looked like they were about to wet their pants at any given moment, but each of them were kind of busy trying to get Jenny off the table. And getting fought violently for their manhandling efforts.

Jenny, she was what made this completely _not funny_.

She was on top of the table, her hands clutched to her middle, and she looked like she was having trouble breathing. On her face, there was this look of complete terror each time the snake came nearer. Her eyes were screwed almost completely shut...

...and she looked about _this _close to tears.

Hell, who was he kidding? She was hysterical. Folding in on herself, she screeched his name while he just stood there frozen, and Decker and Burley tried to get her down with voices that were bordering on hysteria themselves.

_"Hey, Shepard it's okay."_

_"Jenny! Hey, Red it's not gonna hurt us."_

They made the mistake once again of trying to manhandle her off the table. _Again _she fought them viciously, and-not noticing he was frozen in the doorway like an idiot-she screamed his name again.

The panic in her voice jolted him into motion.

Without thinking about it, he fired a warning shot near the snakes' head. Enough to get the thing to back off and stop advancing, but not to hurt it. While he ran across the room in rapid strides, he passed by the reptile without a second thought- much to Decker and Burley's scared shock.

He'd been in enough jungles, doing enough unspeakable things. To not be afraid of the snakes that wouldn't hurt him anymore.

He didn't give them a second thought either though, Jenny's eyes had flown completely open at the sound of the gunshot. And when he reached the table, still folded in on herself and breathing like she'd just run a marathon, and despite the fact that both Decker and Burley were reaching for her. She lifted her arms out to him.

He gathered her to him quickly, an arm under her legs, and one behind her shoulders. Trembling violently, her arms grasped tightly in a deadlock around his neck, she curled up closer into his chest, and her face in the crook of his neck.

Looking at Decker and Burley he said in his most threatening voice, "I never hear another word about this, ever. You got that?"

They nodded, their faces ashen just as much from the snake as from the certain death implied in his statement.

For the moment happy with their consent, he swept out of the room. Dodging Animal Control and Venom One who had _finally _shown up to wrangle the snake into a container.

But he paid no attention to that. His focus was entirely on the now sobbing redhead in his arms. Her breathing was still much to fast and he was half convinced to hop a ride to the hospital, and get her treated for a panic attack.

Her next move destroyed any of those thoughts. Grip on him tighter than ever, and bunching up to him even closer, she sobbed into his shirt_, "Jethro."_

So they didn't end up going to the hospital that day, because she'd called _his name _when she was terrified. It was _him _she was clutching so desperately to, and it was _him _who had managed to get her off the table in the first place.

...

...

It only made sense that it was _him _that carried her all the way back to the van (making Burley and Decker hitch a ride). It only made sense that it was _him _that would get her blind drunk tonight, so she'd forget about it. It only made sense that it was _him _who was currently stroking her hair and making soft shushing sounds along quiet murmurings of, "It's okay, Jen. It's okay. Everything's okay."

Therefore it only made sense that later on it would _only _be _him _that teased her unconditionally.

Because the great Jennifer Shepard was scared of snakes.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry about this I know it's not even really that interesting. And it's pretty AU considering I can't see Jenny ever reacting like this. Granted Jenny never shows fear on the show, so...take it how you will. _

_I've decided I'm going to make this into a little each chapter's a one-shot of something she's scared of (.i.e. Jenny)._

_By the way on the grammar and spelling mistakes. I know there's a lot of them and I'm sorry about that, but I wanted to get this posted to see how y'all are gonna react to it. See if you like the idea or not? And right now I'm exhausted and rambling so I'll come back tomorrow to fix all those mistakes._

_DOn't like. Don't review._


	2. Spiders

_A/N: Second in this little chapter thing I'm doing. This is set when Jenny is director, maybe season 4? Though it would kinda be AU for season 4. Could be implied Jibbs, could be established relationship. Could just be friendship. I'm not really going to put labels on any of these chapters. Just infer and make your own assumptions as to their relationship._

_This one's going to be shorter than the other one. By a lot. The lengths in each chapter will vary each time._

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own NCIS_

* * *

_"Director, you have a conference call in MTAC."_

Vaguely she heard the soft tones of her assistant, Cynthia floating over the intercom. But she didn't move a muscle to press the button that would allow her to respond.

Didn't move to get up from her desk and walk to her locked office door.

_She didn't move at all._

Instead she stayed, muscles frozen in place with the tension of the moment. Her jaw clenched so tightly it felt like her teeth were about to shatter.

Her eyes locked with the eight-legged monster by her hand.

_"Director?"_

Her breath came out in a hiss from between her teeth, eyelids sliding shut nervously.

Manicured fingers twitched.

The monster twitched.

Her eyes flew open, and she froze all over again.

_"Director?!"_

* * *

Cynthia Summers, secretary for the first female Director of an Armed Federal Agency-Director Jennifer Shepard, was worried.

Down the..._catwalk _in their Multiple Threat Assessment Center, the Secretary of the Navy's face was currently being projected up on the big screen. Waiting for her boss to show up so they could discuss another 'super secret spy mission'.

And her boss wasn't answering her summons.

Now she'd _seen_ her boss walk into her office. _Seen _her office door shutting firmly.

_Heard _Jenny say that she didn't want to be disturbed for at least an hour. She'd _heard _the click as the lock on her door slid into place.

So it was only natural that she was hesitant to interrupt the older woman's down time. But she knew for a fact that compared to missing a call from _her _boss, getting disturbed would be quickly forgiven.

Still something had kept her from opening her desk drawer and grabbing her ring of keys in order to open the office herself. What if Jenny was napping? Did she really want to be the one to wake her up?

Then some hopeful part of her mind supplied the thread of thought that had led her to where she was now.

What if Jenny had simply walked past her while she'd been immersed in her email?

It was worth a shot.

Here she was, following that sliver of hope, and walking towards the squadroom that contained three-fourths of the team that Jenny was closest too. Normally, having any question concerning the Director, she would've done the obvious thing and gone to Agent Gibbs. But, Agent Gibbs was apparently absent, and settling for second best she made her way over to Agent DiNozzo's desk.

"Agent DiNozzo, have you seen the Director?"

Even with her back to her Cynthia could sense Officer David's head snapping up, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Agent McGee's head popping up also.

Only...in a less..._ferocious _manner.

Agent DiNozzo on the other hand, slowly raised his head to look at her impassively. Yet anyone with eyes could see that he was clearly pleased to be the go-to guy when it came to their pretty Director.

"Nooooo," he drawled laconically leaning back in his desk chair, "I haven't."

"Why?" he added, his feet plopping down from his desk and his facial expression going from lazy to concerned at her worried look.

Cynthia stumbled for words.

"She has an, um-," the Director wouldn't like it if she shared any information concerning _anything _with agents. This was only a conference call though? And as long as it wasn't Agent Gibbs she was telling this too, who Jenny would flip if he managed to find out _anything _concerning her work through her assistant, then it ought to be fine.

"She's got a conference call in MTAC with the SecNav, and earlier when she went into her office she asked not to be disturbed. Still, I told her over the intercom and usually she answers me. But this time she just didn't answer, and I didn't go in there because the door was locked. And she was extremely tired from a late night OP that ran all night, and if she's napping...I..didn't want to wake her up."

Her words faltered as she realized she was rambling a ramble worthy of Ms. Scuito, and that the agent's were just staring at her.

Yet it was as if they'd all heard the words, _"Grab your gear", _because a second later and she was hurrying up the staircase to keep up with the three running agents. Agent DiNozzo was in the lead.

"Agent DiNozzo," she called out, slightly out of breath, "she could just be napping."

"Then I guess she's about to get her beauty sleep interrupted," he yelled back.

They burst into the antechamber, and without prompting she went to her desk drawer. Intent on grabbing her keys, and yet when she turned around key ring clutched in her grasp. She realized Agent David was crouched by the threshold, the office door already swinging open.

With a quick prayer that Jenny wouldn't fire her for whatever was about to happen...

...she ran after the agent's into the office, and most likely...an early retirement.

* * *

She managed not to jump at the sound of her office door flying open and banging open against the opposite wall. And she tried to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach she'd had reinforced when her eyes had landed on the three stumbling agents and one secretary.

Of course it wasn't _him_. She'd known it wasn't _him_ from the moment she'd heard the thundering footsteps coming up to her office.

Still she could hope, considering she was _this close _to losing it.

"Jenny?" DiNozzo questioned her. Curious to the reason why she was sitting ramrod straight at her desk, she was quite sure she looked close to catatonic.

He moved to take a step forward.

The _demon _scuttled slightly.

She went on lockdown, her eyes snapping shut so she could try to regain some control. Or at least enough to keep her from jumping up from her desk, and shrieking like a little girl.

Once she had herself under relative control, she could sense Tony taking another step forward. Probably to slap some sense into her, but she halted him in his tracks.

"DiNozzo," she growled in her most threatening whisper, "If you take another step forward I will have your ass transferred to Alaska faster than you can recite Rule Six."

"But-," she heard him protest indignantly, she cut him off.

"Get Gibbs."

"Jenny," he said in frustration, and she could only imagine the looks the others were wearing.

She was well aware she seemed insane, yet _this_ was frustrating. The phone blocked their view of her hand so naturally the little monstrosity was hidden from their sight. And she didn't want them coming any nearer, because _frankly _she didn't trust any of them to save her from this _thing._

So she commanded, and they dawdled. She was the Director, couldn't anyone in this place just follow her damn orders for once?!

"Agent's David, McGee, and DiNozzo. Go. Get. Jethro," she ordered once again in a whisper, his first name slipping out without her meaning it to.

She heard four sets of reluctant footsteps leave the room. Each of the agent's leaving with their tail tucked between their legs at the reprimands, and worry etched onto their every feature. While Cynthia simply left, happy that she still had a job.

* * *

Big surprise, they found Gibbs in autopsy. Checking on the results from their dead Petty Officer.

_Another _'big surprise', he hadn't been too happy at being dragged away. But, one confused and wounded explanation from DiNozzo, and all _four _agents were heading up to the Director's office. Taking the stairs up, all the way from the basement.

Jenny heard them approaching, the thundering sounds that signified the three agents returning, and for their safety's sake bringing with them one more.

Like usual though, he was silent as the grave.

The rescue crew, or-_more appropriately_-the crew escorting the one man rescue crew, entered Cynthia's office area...

...And saw said woman leaning against the double door frame leading into Jenny's office.

She glanced up at them when they entered, a frown creasing her forehead.

"She still hasn't moved," Cynthia whispered.

Tony, Tim, and Ziva all looked to their leader for guidance. Everyone paused at the doorjamb, as if there was an invisible barrier between them and the woman at the desk.

Gibbs took in the scene before him.

Jenny was sitting at her desk, her back stiff and her eyes shut tightly. Her arms were out to her sides, and though no one else could probably see it. Even though to anyone else it would've been nothing, but despite her absolute stillness Gibbs could detect the slightest tremor to her posture.

He stood up straight and crossed over the threshold, signaling to his agents to stay back.

Because something was _wrong_.

Sensing that someone was moving, she opened her eyes and their gazes centered on each other. Moving forward silently and stealthily, he wondered if there was something under her desk that was scaring her because her eyes looked positively petrified.

"Jethro," she breathed.

"Jen," he said.

Her eyes slid to her left, telling him something. He kept walking forward until he was standing in front of her desk, and could see the glossy surface.

Realization hit him when he saw what was centimeters away from her left hand.

He bit back the urge to smile, or _god forbid _laugh.

His eyes went back to hers, and he saw the desperation in there. The desperate need to get this _thing _away from her, and to not let her emotions overpower her in the presence of the people behind them.

Due to his keen Marine instincts, and..._well _Jenny's fierce glaring at a point over his shoulder. He knew that one of the well-meaning idiots behind him had moved.

"Stay," came their simultaneous commands, ordering them as if they were dogs that needed to obey.

Regardless, the dogs obeyed.

Now that _that _issue was handled, the full force of Jenny's glare was directed on him. As if to say to him_, 'What the hell was taking him so long?'_

Without further ado, in one fluid motion, he leaned forward and swept up the little terror in his large palms. Trapping it away, and preventing it from escape.

Jenny released a sigh of relief, slumping forward.

A sudden, wicked, thought entered his brain, and he couldn't help the little mischievous smirk from appearing on his face. And judging by the sudden wary look Jenny had, she'd seen it too.

She started scooting her rolling chair back slowly.

In an unexpected movement he thrust his cupped hands forward, moving as if to open them right in her face.

_"Ah," _she screeched, jumping up and knocking her chair backwards while stumbling away from him.

He couldn't help himself, he really couldn't. It was like some dormant need that was in all males was slowly being awakened in him. He strode forward, around the desk and towards Jenny. His hands opening slightly.

Instead of being a fifty something year old man, he was a five year old little boy. Chasing the girl he liked around the playground with the big scary bug.

He stopped though, real quickly when he heard the laughter breaking out behind him. With a certain sense of shame, he turned back around to the people loitering by the door, blocking the sight of a furiously trembling Jenny leaning against the windows.

Conjuring his deadliest glare..._ever_. He effectively quieted most of the bumbling stupidity around them.

Cynthia with a look of shame that could rival his own, she slinked out the door and back to her desk. Tim and Ziva; both quickly shut their mouths and adopted looks that were equal to _'Sorry'_.

Yet, Anthony DiNozzo, his suppose to be senior field agent continued to laugh his head off.

"Ziva," he barked harshly, yanking his head in a gesture for her to haul ass over to him.

Ever the obedient soldier, she came forward cupping her hands in anticipation for what he wanted her to do.

He passed off his possession to her, and she exited- head held high to dispose of it. McGee following her out, while the oblivious DiNozzo continued to act the opposite of his age.

Ignoring him for the moment, he walked around the collapsed chair, to the windows. With gentle hands, he gathered her to him, wrapping his arms around the shaking redhead.

He felt her gasp against his chest.

"DiNozzo," he yelled at the man, the he-hawing donkey like sounds, finally getting on his nerves.

Tony stood up straight, suddenly alert. A slightly abashed look on his face, yet still remaining somehow amused.

"Sorry Boss," he choked, wiping imaginary teardrops from his eyes, "but you gotta admit it's pretty funny that she was so sca-."

He saw the bright flush spreading across her cheekbones, and he felt the way Jenny tried to hide her face.

"Hey, DiNozzo! You wanna do charity work at the pound with Abby for the next year?!" He interrupted loudly.

The younger man stood up straight, looking him in the eye suddenly deadly serious. His senior field agent said, "Point taken, Boss."

Then walked out the double doors like a toy soldier, shutting them softly behind him. Gibbs gave a grunt of satisfaction and buried his face in the silky red hair, his warm hands rubbing up down her back soothingly.

The team sure as hell would be getting extra paperwork for the next month, and Cynthia would be getting even more emotional abuse.

Because they would definitely be learning their lesson for this. It was one thing for _him _to tease Jenny, but it was another thing for other people to. And he didn't even do it often, if there was a snake around then he gave her a piggyback ride. So it only made sense that he got to tease her for this one harmless thing.

But he wouldn't _tolerate _it from other people.

Only _he _was allowed to exploit any of Jenny's fears...

...even if it was of a tiny little jumping spider.

* * *

_A/N: I'm thinking maybe one or more chapters of the 'typical' fears then get onto the more emotional ones. Don't crucify me about not getting around to editing the last chapter. Been sick and all, and considering I've read it at least five times the past month I don't honestly think I could look at it again just yet._

_You know; don't like it, don't review it._


	3. Him Finding Out

_A/N: Okay so I'm pretty much through with the corporal things as fears. Considering I can't really think of that many more besides things like heights. And honestly I don't see Jenny being afraid of that many 'corporal' things._

_This is for Bestofrafa and all my other reader's/ reviewer's. Bestofrafa thanks for reminding me about this. I've had this chapter written for a while I've just forgotten to post it._

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own NCIS_

* * *

_Shortly after her twenty-six birthday Jennifer Shepard walked into her childhood home, coming to see her father. It had been a normal day, she'd gone to her classes she was completing in law school, and now she wanted to see if her father would liked to eat dinner together. _

_She still remembers like it was yesterday. How the sun had been out, and a nice breeze had been blowing. Not to sound too cliché, but birds had been chirping and the flowers had been in bloom._

_It had been a great day._

_"Dad," she still remembers calling out. And not getting any answer she'd made her way to the closed door by the staircase. The door that led to her father's study, where she'd expected to see him asleep on the couch._

_Time should've slowed down. She should've had this instinctive gut feeling that something was wrong. But she hadn't._

_Her 'gut' wouldn't develop until years later. Under the guidance of a certain man she'd yet to meet at the time._

_So she'd opened the heavy wooden door, and promptly screamed. Because her father's body was the first dead body she ever saw. Slumped over his desk, blood was everywhere._

_She slammed the door._

_Called the cops._

_And threw up._

_The cops came, they questioned her, found a gun in her father's hand, and made her get checked out by paramedics. She was sedated, woke up alone a day later, and her father was still dead._

_CID investigated. They took the easier route, called her father a traitor. They branded him weak and spineless, said it was suicide because he was suspect of an investigation she knew nothing about._

_She stayed in the hospital for a week. CID came in to question her over and over again, every day. She stayed mute each and every day without fail, and on the sixth day an investigator left his file by her bedside while he went to the restroom. _

_She didn't hesitate for a second. She opened it, and saw the words that would determine the course her life would take from then on._

_Navy._

_Arms dealer._

_Bribery._

_La Grenouille._

_She was let out of the hospital the next day. _

_In the next week she attended her own father's funeral, alone. There was no gravestone in Arlington with his name on it, no Taps playing in the background, no twenty-one gun salute, and no folded flag handed to her on one knee._

_There was no honor for men that were branded traitors._

_Bribery takers._

_The month after that; she made a five point plan, dropped out of law school, and enrolled in FLETC. And a little over a year later she was being assigned to the MCRT at NCIS._

_She'd catapulted her life into overdrive from the moment she'd opened that study door._

* * *

Sometimes in the dead of night when she's pondering how her life turned out. She thinks that things could've been different if all those years ago, the day she'd discovered her father's body, she'd had Jethro by her side.

If at the funeral where she'd sat in a cold folding chair by herself, she'd had him by her side.

Maybe things could've been different.

Maybe she could've gotten the guts to tell him herself. Instead of him finding out because of her emotional breakdown.

It wasn't as if he would hate her for it. Think she was broken and damaged and want nothing to do with her because of it. No, that wasn't the case at all.

Plain and simple, it was about her being afraid. Because in Paris-_Europe _while the government and Morrow used them to do their bidding. They'd gone to places that were dark and scary, but Jethro had never been afraid because he'd been in and seen worse scenarios.

Jethro did the dirty work. Completed the tasks that needed to be done to get them home alive. Then at night her partner who thought he was Superman was plagued by nightmares.

And waking only brought torturing memories.

Jethro was broken also, but she loved him for it.

* * *

While he twisted fitfully in the sheets at night, she'd stroke his hair. Would press cool kisses on his face, and whisper in his ear that she was there.

When he woke up and the darkness threatened to overcome their rare happy times. She'd grab him by the hair and kiss him soundly, nibble at his throat, and whisper something in his ear that would make him laugh.

_Each time Jethro would hold her closer, wrap his arms tighter around her, and bury his head in the crook of her neck._

Jethro _relied_ on her to keep him sane.

During those times of tension in Europe, he depended on her to make him happy again. To not have a secret in her past that would make her eyes cloud over with troubles.

_That _was what Jethro needed her for.

* * *

Now, she's sitting in the chair behind the desk that she sacrificed so much for.

And _he's _sitting across from her.

Calling her out on the past. Asking her what La Grenouille ever did to her. All because somewhere in between Marseilles and here, she managed to loose herself so completely.

Vaguely she thinks it was Paris when she left him, and consequently destroyed both of their sanity so thoroughly.

But now he wants to know, what it is that drives her. Wants her to admit to him that she's not as complete and whole as she made him believe.

And damn how she does she not want to tell him.

So she thanks him, for always having her back. Because one day soon she knows that can could change in the blink of an eye. He could not want anything to do with her anymore because he found out.

Yea she's was scared of him finding out. Because Jethro needed her to be _whole_.

And if he ever found out what really lay in her past. What deep dark secret she was really hiding. If he ever learned that what he needed her to be, she wasn't.

Then he wouldn't need her anymore.

And she didn't think she could live with that.

* * *

_A/N: Really short I know. But I couldn't think on how to make this one longer. I plan on doing two more after this. They are probably going to be just as short. It's also confusing I'm sure. But it's kinda of centered on how Jenny doesn't want Gibbs learning about her obsession._

_Don't like. Don't review._


	4. Losing Him

_A/N: This one is going to be a little bit longer._

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own NCIS._

* * *

The first time she'd failed to realized it, she'd been a simple Probie. Fighting against something that she knew she wouldn't win.

Didn't want to win, when giving in would taste so much sweeter.

But for propriety's sake...

Anyway, they'd been hunting an ex-military serial killer in DC. With seven vengeance murders under his belt, people on the 'Hill' had been getting tense. And therefore started breathing down their necks. Or more appropriately..._his _neck.

They hunted him for three weeks, and slowly but surely she watched as the stress got to Jethro. Slowly, she watched as he became more and more immersed-_obsessed_-with the chase.

One day during those dreadful three weeks, she'd looked into his eyes. And it was then that she knew that who she had originally thought had been the hunter, had become the prey.

Turns out it hadn't been Jethro who had ended up holding the gun.

Oh yea, on the last week of the case...Jethro had disappeared. Simply..._vanished_.

Or that's what Decker, Burley, Morrow, and freaking _Ducky_ had believed-at first.

_She on the other hand..._

On the first day he hadn't shown up for work, everybody else had liked to believe that he was just sleeping in. After all, she had started worrying simply because she'd come in and he wasn't already at his desk.

With some more pestering and persisting, and subsequently more blow-offs. She'd finally had enough and gotten up, and left the director's office. With four shocked men looking at her back, and left the building-heading for his house.

When she'd found the scene of the fight-_before she shut down completely_-she'd had the presence of mind to call it in.

The boys had apologized to her, but she hadn't heard them.

Everything in her was focused on finding _him_.

Their serial killer was ex-military, was damn good if he managed to get the drop on Jethro, and apparently favored long drawn out tortures.

It was over one long, stressful week later that they found him. During that week she'd practically gone rogue using every resource she possessed to get him back alive, while the boys sat back on their asses in awe of her.

Though when they did find him he was beaten, bruised, and bloodied. He was _alive_. And that had been all that mattered.

It helped that that had been all she'd noticed, the boys had gotten into a fight with their perp. While she'd ran straight to his side. Waiting desperately with her heart in her stomach and feeling like she was about to throw up, for him to open his eyes.

And when he did, the first thing he did was croak out, "Jen."

The relief she'd felt, it was the sweetest feeling in the world.

She should've known then.

* * *

It happened again, in Naples.

They were still tracking that damned Russian arms ring, and they'd been getting pretty close.

Until that hit was placed on Jethro.

Grant it they weren't stupid enough to be using their real names. So the hit had been placed on his alias, but _not _on hers.

And their alias's were a married couple.

Still their supposed 'backup' at headquarters in the states, which they were told they wouldn't be able to contact, that _they_ would call _them_. Yea, _that_ backup, had made the asinine decision not to pull them out when they found out about the hit.

Claiming if they could trace it back to the operator's of the ring, then they would at least have something to charge them with.

Yep, their safety was real high on the list of priorities.

But they'd stayed in, and simply watched their backs a little closer. Yet one night, walking back to their safe house, the hired gunman had struck.

_Two _hired guns had struck.

At first her and Jethro had taken off running. Because at the time they'd been in a populated neighborhood, and even if it wasn't the greatest or safest neighborhood in the world...

They were still federal agents, and their first instinct was to protect the civilians.

Finally they had to stop, at a place by the river. And apparently Jethro's second instinct was to protect her, because he'd spent valuable seconds trying to convince her to leave him, and run and hide. While he himself would stay behind to distract the both of them.

There was no way in _hell_ she was doing that, and that's what she'd said to him, word-for-word.

So they stayed together, and faced the men together. She took on one, and Jethro took on the other.

Her fight had started out pretty well, back when she was just a Probie and not his partner. Jethro had made sure she possessed the knowledge, capabilities, and strength she needed to defend herself.

But even though she was landing blows left and right on him, this man was three times her size, and just wouldn't go down.

Behind her she'd heard Gibbs take his down, and next thing she knew she was on the ground with blood obscuring her vision. Above her the hit man pulled a gun out of his waistband, ready to take out one obstacle between him and his goal.

Just as the muzzle was aligning between her eyes, Jethro had turned and charged.

They went down in a heap. Kicking, punching, and trading blows too fast for her to keep up with.

And damn did she want to get up and help. Two against one would be a fight in their favor, even if Gibbs was holding his own against a professional hit man. It didn't stop her from worrying and trying to get up to help.

But no matter how much she tried, her legs wouldn't move. A tingling sensation was spreading throughout her body, and keeping her paralyzed throughout the fight.

The Russian pulled a knife, Jethro had used his knife to take down the other man.

It was thrown at his neck, but Gibbs dodged.

The Russian launched himself towards his fallen gun, and Jethro having been thrown off balance was too slow.

Jenny heard a _bang_.

A sickening _thud_.

Jenny screamed.

Without thinking, only running on the horrible fear she felt coursing through her veins, and ignoring the pain from her own wounds. She threw herself to the side, where the fallen man that Jethro had taken down gun lay.

With hands that were trembling violently, she raised the weapon, and without aim shot off three shots. Shot off three very desperate shots at the man that was setting up to finish Gibbs off, if he hadn't already.

Apparently Jethro had trained her well because; the first hit his heart, along with her second, and the third...it made an unnecessary but pleasing impact straight between the eyes.

The Russian fell, and Jethro still didn't move.

She pulled herself up, and on shaky legs made her way over to the prone figure of her lover. Jethro was lying face down, blood pooling around him. Her heart was pounding so horribly she thought she was going to throw up with anticipation.

Sinking to her knees, as gently as possible she gripped his shoulder and rolled him over onto his back. Being careful not to hurt him further than he already was.

She swallowed down bile at the sight that greeted her.

Jethro's abdomen was soaked black with blood.

Immediately her scant training kicked in and she had taken off her coat and started pressing down on the wound. Trying to stop the bleeding with one hand, while the other went to his neck.

She wanted to sob when she felt his faint fluttering pulse.

"Jethro," she cried. "Wake up, Jethro. Please wake up."

She didn't have a phone to call an ambulance, and she couldn't carry him all the way back to the safe house. So if they had any hope of him not bleeding out on then sidewalk, then he _had _to wake up.

_"Open your eyes Jethro," _she begged.

Jethro's eyes opened, "Jen."

And that night sporting a head wound of her own she'd half carried him the three blocks to where they were staying. Where Ducky had been waiting to fix him up, and most likely slip a sedative into the shots of bourbon he'd given her.

A day later and they were being sent to Positano. Just herself and Jethro, no Ducky, and no mission. Which was something that had relieved her after the stress she wished to never experience again.

She should've realized it then.

* * *

Now she's sitting in a hospital room. With Jethro in the bed hooked up to far too many machines, and looking like death itself. It's a scene that's far too familiar for her taste.

Only this time, they aren't together. She isn't in his bed at night, and his arms during the day. No, she's up in her office controlling his every move.

So does she have a right to be here?

Either way, she is. It's nighttime outside the window to her left, and his team are conked out in the waiting room outside his door. No one knows she's here other than the on duty nurse at the front desk.

But could anyone blame her? Not after she got that heart-stopping call from Ducky this afternoon, saying that Jethro had been shot. When he'd just gotten out of the hospital for BZ gas poisoning a month or so ago. And a coma shortly before that.

Now it's a gunshot wound.

_'Open your eyes,' _she pleads to him silently. Let him open his eyes so she can know that he'll be okay. So that she can sneak back out like a thief in the night, and live for Ducky's updates.

He knows what she needs, always have always will. Maybe that's why his eyes flutter open with a world weary groan from him.

She should get a nurse, go and call the team. Tell everyone that he's awake, but she doesn't. Doesn't want to ruin this moment quite yet, where it's just the two of them.

"Hey," she says softly. He smiles at her weakly, she's probably the only one in the world who Jethro smiles for anymore.

"Hey," he rasps back to her.

A few cool sips of water later, and she's helping him relax back against the pillows. His tired and aching body unable to do it on his own. Once he's settled she see's the lines of exhaustion marring his features. That one simple act making him tired, but she knows he won't succumb to sleep yet.

So she tells him what he needs to hear, leans in real close and strokes his forehead. Vaguely she notes that he's burning up, "Go to sleep."

He turns his head into her soothing touch, his eyelids already at half-mast. "I'm gonna be alright, Jen." He mumbles, because of course. Three major hospital visits in roughly nine months means he's going to be just fine.

But she doesn't say that instead, "I know," she humors him.

She can tell that his eyes are getting harder and harder to keep open. And that sleep is so very appealing to him right now, but he was still resisting like the stubborn bastard he was. It might've been that which makes her promise so suddenly...

"I'll be here when you wake up," she croons low in his ear, and on instinct turns and presses a sweet closed-mouth kiss on his lips.

It still ignites a spark in them both, this time with promises for the future. But both are too tired to carry it any further at this moment in time.

Later that night, when Jethro sleeping soundly and she's still awake. Clutching his large palm in her own, and caressing his growing silky silvery locks. It hits her like a load of bricks.

The relief, sweet, _sweet _relief makes her acknowledge what she'd been denying for years.

She's absolutely terrified of losing him.

* * *

_A/N: Just one more chapter for this little fic. But I won't be posting it today._

_Don't like. Don't review._


	5. Loving Him

_A/N: Sorry this has taken me so long. And again sorry that this is in fact the last chapter_

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own NCIS_

* * *

_This _fear, it's not like her others.

She doesn't pretend it doesn't exist, that it's not there. She _can't_, not when she's been confronted with it for what seems to be as long as she can remember.

Nine years.

* * *

Nine years, in the broad spectrum of things nine years is nothing. Absolutely nothing to anyone else, in anyone else's life it's not even a decade's worth chunk of time.

But-to her-nine years means everything.

Six years of self-imposed solitude, well-not necessarily _solitude_. After all, in those six years some portion of that time had been spent as the Assistant Director to Tom Morrow, and it's kind of hard to be alone when you're in that position.

Maybe that was the problem, she wasn't alone.

Except that, she much rather would've preferred utter solitude to being without the one person whose absence made her feel alone. Then, she might've been able to pass off her loneliness as being segregated from the rest of the world, and not just the one person she segregated herself from.

The person this total fear_ made_ her leave behind in the dust...

Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

* * *

The first time she realized it might even be a problem, they were in the Czech Republic.

They'd just gotten sent from their mini impromptu 'vacation', consisting of sandy surfs and beautiful beach houses in Positano. And their next stop (although they didn't know it at the time) would be Serbia.

Ducky had rejoined them for this mission, and Jenny was able to breath a little better knowing that someone was there to make sure Jethro was healing right.

Maybe that's why she hadn't noticed it sooner, Jethro's bullet wound.

Before Positano they'd never really settled down in one spot for long. A.K.A, they'd never even totally unpacked their duffle bags before Positano. And yet, _in _Positano it had been Jenny who'd unpacked both their bags because Jethro was doped out on Methadone for a nasty-almost fatal-gunshot wound.

Really, he'd only just started to look halfway not dead towards the end of their stay there.

During their stay in the Republic (considering they were resuming extended cover as a married couple and their brother-in-law) they'd been given a nice little place to stay.

It was an apartment in a quaint old brownstone. The building had maybe twenty apartments all-in-all? And yet there were no tenants anywhere else, and _no _landlord technically.

Part of their cover was that herself and Jethro owned the building and were in the process of renovating.

She remembers herself complaining quite loudly (for proprieties sake) over the phone to Tom Morrow. About why in the world they could only use one apartment when there was a whole buildings worth of empty ones.

Like the gracious person she was, she backed down from the fight and consented to the three bedroom and two bath apartment on the top floor. Where the fire escape was conveniently placed.

Hanging up the phone, she'd turned her attention back to the two men who sat comfortably in the armchairs in front of the fireplace. She can remember like it was yesterday, grabbing the glass of scotch and bourbon she'd been pouring and ambling on over to them.

She handed Ducky his scotch, and padded on over to Jethro. Handing him his bourbon, she settled herself on the arm of his chair. Ducky cocked a questioning eyebrow, and she remembers retorting with a smart remark about the lack of furniture in the rest of the room and he better not say anything lest she go and sat herself in _his_ lap.

It didn't help that at that moment Jethro pulled her into his own lap.

Her cheeks had been red, and she could've pulled herself up off his lap and sat on the floor. After all, she was a professional and to be like this with any other man in front of Ducky-_a colleague_. Would've been a very _very _strict no no to her.

Inbred professionalism was hard to overcome.

And yet she stayed on his lap, and stared Ducky down.

That was the first time her fear surfaced.

* * *

The second time, they were still in that apartment. Still in the same place.

Except their bedroom (the one she and Jethro shared), looked drastically different from the spic and span of when they'd first 'moved in'.

Now, there was a surprising amount...of _mess. _Not the icky, gross, bring in the hazmat team type of mess. More like the...didn't put the toilet seat down, socks missing the dirty clothes hamper, and toothpaste cap off of the tube type mess.

At first, she had just ignored it. Figured that-unless Ducky was sneaking into their room in the middle of the night-Gibbs just wasn't feeling very well. That he was just tired that one night and the first pair of socks that missed the hamper would be righted in the morning.

A week of it though...and she got a dose of surprising truth.

Leory Jethro Gibbs- the organized, no nonsense, hard ass Marine...was messy.

_...Just like any other guy..._

He made messes too.

Now, she could've-_should've _nagged him about it. Once the messes started to _spread_, she should've lectured him on it-made him clean it all up.

After all, she didn't exactly _like _mess. Being raised by a Colonel in the Army, might have had something to do with that. But she suspected the fact that they'd always had a housekeeper/nanny had helped with that somewhat.

Yet, she hadn't mentioned it to him-not once. Instead with a fond little smile, and with Ducky watching from a distance with a similar expression. She'd go behind him and pick up the socks, push the toilet seat down, and hunt down that ever elusive toothpaste cap.

It wasn't that she was a housewife, in fact she was as far as you could get from anything remotely housewife(ish). It was just the simple fact that she liked-no _loved_-that there was an unconscious part of Jethro that wasn't always perfect. Some tiny part of him that wasn't always so under control.

So from the Republic to Serbia to Paris-Jennifer Shepard had two jobs.

NCIS Special Agent, and...well-a newbie maid.

* * *

This fear presented itself multiple times-in multiple forms throughout their time together.

It wasn't just in the Republic.

But in Paris, it was when it all hit her all at once-suffocated her with the meaning of it all. The suffocating headiness of it all was what made her write that damn letter, made her leave that _beautiful _coat behind.

Made her leave _him _behind.

Made her decide that chasing elusive arms dealers was better than hunting toothpaste caps. Made her decide that taking down arrogant politicians was better than putting down the toilet seat. Made her decide that she didn't want to be the one picking up his dirty socks anymore.

Made her decide-that at the end of the day-it would be an empty bed she went back to.

For a whole month after she left, she slept on a couch.

Her eyes flutter close briefly as the old weight of guilt, heartache, and the familiar old fear settles back on her like a second skin. Tears prick at the back of her eyelids and she reminds herself that she can't cry yet. And that if she does cry today, she'd already promised Jethro that it wouldn't be for _this _particular reason.

Besides, Abby would kill her if she ruined her makeup.

Her lips turned up at the corners slightly. She couldn't help but smile at the thought of the exuberant Goth who was currently sitting just outside this room, with the rest of her eccentric family.

A soft knock on her door made her get up and cross the room daintily. Opening the door to reveal a dressed up Ducky, a bouquet of flowers held in his hand.

_Her _bouquet, to be exact.

"Are you ready my dear?" His quiet, lilting, Scottish accent floated through the comforting stillness of the church.

Her heart stuttered, but this time with a happy anticipation. Instead of a gut-wrenching, nauseating, sickening anticipation. She decided, without any doubt in her mind that she much preferred this feeling to the latter.

With a deep breath, she nodded once, and with a smile took the proffered bouquet with one hand and his arm with the other.

She was going to tamp down on that annoying little fear once and for all today.

* * *

That was the day Jenny wore a white dress.

That was the day Ducky walked her down the aisle where Jethro waited at the end for her.

That was the day her and Jethro's family watched them stand up and profess that they did-in fact-love each other.

That was the day Jenny stood beside him at the alter-looking up into his twinkling cobalt blues, and realized something.

Yes, loving him had introduced her to an addictive alcoholic substance. Yes, loving him had made her a glorified maid. Yes, loving him had made her feel and experience terrifying feelings. Yes, loving him had made her for the one and only time in her life made her want to through away the strict plan she had made for herself.

Yes, loving him had broken _all _the rules she'd set for herself.

Yet...

Loving him, had made her feel beautiful and special. Loving him, had given her the courage to try new and different things. Loving him, had given her the confidence not to care what others thought of her. Loving him, had made her want to _live _life in the here-and-now. Loving him, had helped her go farther in life than her rules and plans ever could.

Loving him, had made her want to be the _only _person who picked up his dirty socks.

Loving him, _had _changed her but she was..._okay with it._

That was the day that Jenny took a deep breath and realized she was no longer scared of her love for him.

That was the day Jenny said, "I do."

* * *

_A/N: Sorry it's been so long. I'd completely forgotten about this story until the other day when I realized I needed to update my story The Next D.C Power Couple. So I'm working on that, and please don't abandon that story yet. I swear I haven't given up on the story, but I just finished moving so it's kind of been a little hectic. And my apologies that this last little part was so short and utterly plot-less. I wanted a wedding and I usually don't like wedding scenes with Jenny and Jethro. Typically cuz they tend to end up a little routine._

_If you don't like. Don't review._


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NCIS, Hurt-Comfort, Romance