[Oneshot] Closure
TITLE: Closure
AUTHOR: nicis_anatomy
CHARACTER: Jethro Gibbs, Jenny's mother
GENRE: Gen, Drama (reflection on Jenny and Jethro's past 'canon' relationship)
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: 4752
SUMMARY: Jethro's world has been turned upside down, when he gets a visitor, who is looking for some closure. Written for prompt #10 "Remember the good times." for 24_times and quote #16 "Being a strong powerful women ..." for madame_director.
WARNINGS: English still isn't my native language (although I wish) and the story is not beta'd. - SPOILER for 5.18/19 "Judgement day" and slightly for 6.01 "Last Man Standing".
NOTES: This is the longest story I've ever written in English and I don't know if it makes any sense at all. We never learned anything about Jenny's mother, but since she had her on speed dial in 3.23 I assume she is still alive.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.
"Take care of all your memories.
For you cannot relive them."
(Bob Dylan)
~*~*~*~*
It was late on a Friday evening and Jethro had just poured his third (or was it his fourth? Truth was, had stopped counting after the first) glass of bourbon, when the doorbell rang.
Startled, he straightened in his chair, his eyes moving upwards to the basement ceiling as if he had actually the power to look right through it to see who was on his front door.
It couldn't be anyone he knew, because they would know that the door was always open when he was at home. And after last week's events there was nearly no one left who would have visited him on a Friday night.
So many things had changed that sometimes he wondered if this was all one big nightmare he was stuck in and would sooner or later wake from, only to realize that everyone he cared about was still here, with him, instead of someplace else.
It had been one week since they buried Jenny and nearly as long since his team was split up and sent to different places around the world; Ziva was back in Israel, Tony shipped out four days ago, McGee was working for the cyber crime division, and although he was still located at the Navy Yard, it felt like he was miles away, living in another world. Abby and Ducky were still with him, as was Jimmy Palmer, but it was not the same without the rest of the team, and all three of them were only a shelf of their former selves.
The events had been hard on them, and Jethro wondered if they, too, felt as empty and lonely as he felt. Their world had been turned upside down as well, and maybe for them it was even more difficult, because he had changed, too, although he pretended to be still the same old bastard they were used to, only to give them some confidence, some routine, the feeling that not everything was lost.
Truth was, he had changed - maybe even more then the rest of his team together.
When he wasn't at his desk or in the field, he was in his basement, working on his boat and drinking Bourbon, like he used to do until last week. But the hours he spent in the office were reduced to a minimum and his nights felt longer then ever, while the time between two empty bottles of his 'medicine' shortened each day. He knew he wouldn't be able to move on like this for much longer, but at the moment this way seemed to be the only one he was able to take.
One day he would have to pay the price for this attitude, but today … well, he didn't really care.
When the doorbell rang a second time, Jethro sent up a whole bunch of curses through the ceiling. He wasn't in the mood for visitors or - worse - some salesperson who would try to talk him into buying a new vacuum cleaner or sign up on a subscription for a newspaper he wouldn't read anyway, but something in the strange sound of the bell forced him to put his glass down and answer the door.
He climbed the stairs, slowly, as if each step was a mile high, and walk down the hallway until he reached his front door. He hesitated one last time, before his hand moved to the doorknob. He opened the door just when his visitor reached for the bell a third time.
It was already dawning and at first he could only make out the outline of the person on his doorstep. Then as if they wanted to help him see clear, the clouds moved, giving the sun another chance to rise, and his vision cleared.
The first thing he noticed was her hair; long, red curls, mostly hidden under a dark scarf. Jethro blinked, assuming his mind was playing tricks on him as it had done all week - he suddenly started to see redheads everywhere he turned; on the street, at his favorite coffee place, in his dreams … it felt like he was reliving the time after Shannon's and Kelly's death all over again -, but when he opened his eyes again, the red color was still there, accompanied by a smile, that made him stumble backwards.
He knew this smile by heart. It was Jenny's smile; the smile she had giving him the first day they had ever met more than ten years ago, and that had been burned into his memory forever.
Jethro blinked again, silently blaming the bourbon for this Fata Morgana, but when his eyes moved upwards and met bright blue eyes, the magic was suddenly gone, and the illusion turned into a real person. But still … that woman was Jenny - and yet she wasn't. Except for the different eye color and her age she could have been Jenny's twin-sister.
"Agent Gibbs?" The woman asked, startling him out of his thoughts.
"Are you Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs?" She asked again, when he didn't answer, the sparkle in her eyes reminded him once again of the woman he had been in love with - and maybe still was? - all these years ago.
Finally, he managed to nod, still unable to say anything.
"I'm sorry to bother you at such a late hour, Agent Gibbs," she said, offering her hand to him. "I was told I would probably find you here. My name is Violet Montgomery. I am -"
"Jenny's mother?" Jethro asked, hoarsely.
"That's right," Mrs. Montgomery answered, softly and lowered her head as if the sound of Jenny's name alone would cause her pain. Jethro was sure, it indeed did, because for him hearing it was like being stabbed with a sharp knife right into his heart over and over again. But for him Jenny was only a former partner and lover, a friend. He could only imagine how much grief this pour woman felt.
"Please come in," he offered, leading Jenny's mother into the house. "Can I get you something? Some water or anything stronger?"
Mrs. Montgomery shook her head. "I'm fine. Thank you, Agent Gibbs," she answered. She walked into the hallway and looked around. Noticing the open basement door, she turned back to Jethro.
"Do you actually have a boat in your basement?" Amusement swung in her voice, but Jethro was used to it. He hadn't met anyone who hadn't had sounded surprised by this news.
"Yes, Ma'am," he answered. "I am building a boat. In my basement. Did your daughter tell you this?"
Again, she shook her head and gave him a sad smile. Jethro bit his tongue. He wished for the chance to take this question back, but as usual he couldn't. Damage was done, and all that was left for him was to make sure that the damage was limited.
"I'm…" He'd almost said he was sorry, which would have broken one of his own rule, but Mrs. Montgomery shook her head one more time and spared him this 'crime'.
"Dr. Mallard told me," she said. "I talked to him about an hour again. He is a handsome man; kind and well-mannered. Scottish, I suppose."
"Yes, he is, Ma'am." Jethro smiled, relieved and thankful that she had saved this situation with changing the subject. "All of these things, actually. Do you … do you want me to show you my boat?"
"'I'd love to."
Smiling, Jethro led Jenny’s mother down the stairs to his basement, watching with proud as she looked around, making some sounds that suggested she was impressed and pleased with what she saw. Confused, he realized that he was holding his breathe, eagerly awaiting her opinion. It nearly felt like he was trying to impress his mother-in-law, and with some sadness he came to the conclusion that this thought wasn’t so far-fetched at all. Besides some 'what-if’s' and 'if-only’s' the idea of marrying Jenny once had been a great one; back in Europe, before everything had changed from being great to becoming just complicated. Before she had left him to do what was best for her. Before she had come back to be his boss …
Jethro sighed and tried to repress these memories, but this was - as usual - harder than he had wished for.
“Kelly …" Jenny's mother pointed at the inscription on the hull. "Is this your wife?”
The question caught Jethro by surprise and it took him a second, before he could answer.
“No, Kelly is … she’s my daughter,” he answered. Lowering his head, he tried to avoid the piercing glance, that woman definitely had passed on to her daughter. He felt like being x-rayed by her blue eyes, and it was like she could read him like an open book. Slowly, he was starting to regret that he had opened the door to let Mrs. Montgomery into his house and somehow with that into his life.
“Is she with her mother?” She asked, softly, showing him that she had caught the signal between the lines, that this was a bad subject, but at the same time she seemed unwilling to lead the conversation into another direction.
“Yes, she is. She is with her mother.” The answer was as close to the truth as Jethro was willing to share, and he looked around his basement, desperately trying to find something for distraction.
“That’s good,” She said, nodding in understanding. “A girl should be with her mother.”
The sadness in her voice caught Jethro’s attention. He gave his visitor a questioning look and pointed at the chair in the corner.
Without hesitation, Jenny's mother sat down, while he made himself comfortable on a box beside his boat. Silently, he waited for her to continue and to finally tell him why she was here.
“My husband and I got divorced when Jenny was fifteen,” she told him, after she had took her time to place her huge purse on the dusty workbench behind her and crossed her legs.
She painfully reminded him of Jenny, when she had been sitting on the same chair her first day as Director. While he had showered and changed, she had waited for him in his basement and her long legs had been the first thing he had noticed, when he had came down the stairs …
Again, Jethro forced himself to forget the past to focus on the future, and yet again it was easier said than done; especially with the older version of Jenny sitting right in front of him.
“Jenny stayed with her father,” She continued, obviously unaware of Jethro’s thoughts, for what he was more than thankful. “She had always been her daddy’s girl. She had to accompany him wherever he went. Like his little shadow.” A smile played around her lips, but the look she gave him was full of sadness. “And Jasper … he didn’t mind having her around. Jenny was his little Princess, and he was proud of everything she did. He on the other hand was her hero, and Jenny did everything to not disappoint him.”
The picture of a small version of Jenny with red pigtails clung to her father’s coat-tails, that formed in Jethro's head, while the woman was telling him stories he would never have heard from Jenny, rose him a smile.
“I’m sure he would have been proud of her and what she did,” he said and Jenny's mother nodded.
“I believe he was the reason, why she wanted to become an agent, to wear a weapon and to play with the big guys," she said. "I always wanted her to become something … more suitable for a beautiful girl like she was. But she had always been stubborn and after Jasper … you know what happened to him?” She asked.
Jethro nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“After he died, Jenny changed,” she continued. “She couldn’t believe that her father would have killed himself and to be honest, Agent Gibbs … I couldn’t either. Jasper would never have left Jenny behind. This wasn't him. But before his death … he was depressed. Something was going on at work. I don’t know what it was, but it must have been big, and when the medical examiner confirmed the suicide I came to terms with it. I wanted to get peace and leave everything behind. There was no way to bring him back to life, but it was our duty to give him peace. Jenny disagreed. She didn’t believe in his suicide. We had a big fight and afterwards … we didn’t speak for years. She broke up any contact and if it wasn’t for Noemi, the housekeeper who stayed with Jenny, I wouldn’t have even known that Jenny joined NCIS and went to Europe. You worked with her back then, didn’t you?”
“She was in my team,” Jethro answered, again avoiding direct eye contact. He wasn’t sure if Mrs. Montgomery was trying to squeeze more information out of him or if she already knew that he and Jenny had been more then just partners, and he wasn’t sure how she would feel if she’d knew the truth.
“Jenny was a damn good agent and a … wonderful person, Ma'am. She had had many friends and although her job wasn’t easy, she handled everything as good as she could. She made some mistakes, for sure, but that's human. She earned a lot of respect and … we all liked her and we miss her.” He had no idea where these words were suddenly coming from, but he couldn’t stop himself, and after he'd finished he was somehow relieved and proud at the same time that he had finally said what he’d felt for years. He only wished he would have been able to tell Jenny these things face-to-face month ago. But since Jenny was gone, her mother seemed to be a good alternative. Plus, he had the feeling this was what this woman needed to hear. He may not be the most sensitive person in the world, but had always been good at dealing with grieving relatives. This was like doing his job, a thing he had done many times before - only that this time it felt more personal than it should be.
“Someone once said that being a strong, powerful woman was a thankless job. Men would be afraid of you, women would feel threaten by you; and that in the end, a powerful woman often stands alone. I never wanted that for my little girl. But hearing you talk like this … maybe this someone was wrong.” Jenny's mother shrugged, but smiled grateful. “I believe you, Agent Gibbs. I’ve seen you and your colleagues at the funeral, and trust me, I’ve been to many funerals and I know when it’s just a charade and when the tears are real. This young girl with the black pigtails … It was really nice of her to play that song. Jenny would have liked it …" Mrs. Montgomery fell silent, looking at him as if she wanted to ask him a question but didn't know how or if she should. Then she sighed, pulling herself together.
"She didn’t die in that fire, did she? Agent Gibbs?”
Jethro’s smile vanished and for a moment he looked shocked, wondering what he should say, what he could say in order to protect Jenny and in the end himself. He had no idea what Jenny had told her mother - if she had even spoken to her at all over the past years - and if he could trust her. Natasha Lenkov was dead, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he was safe for good. There were still some bad guys out there, trying to find him, to get revenge for Natasha's death. On the other hand … this woman was Jenny’s mother, and she had been married to someone who had worked high classified operations for the pentagon. If she wouldn’t know what discretion meant, who would? Furthermore, she was obviously here to get some closure. She had a right to know the truth.
“Jenny died in California,” he said, slowly, carefully watching her reaction. “She was … someone was after her. There was a shooting. Jenny put up a hell of a fight. She died as a hero, killing four of them, before she … she had no chance, Ma'am,” he added softly Jenny's mother swallowed hard. She reached for a tissue to dry her tears.
“That’s what I thought,” she finally said, after she took a moment to calm down. “I knew she hadn’t died in this fire. Something terrible had happened. Call it instinct or … a gut feeling, Agent Gibbs. I just knew it. Did she suffer?”
Jethro slightly shock his head. Actually, he had no idea, but Ducky had assured him, that the last bullet had killed her nearly instantly.
“There is more, Ma’am," he said. "Jenny had … she was sick. The doctors had given her only a few more months, before she ...”
“That would explain everything,” she mumbled, and Jethro wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or only to herself. So he just sat there and waited for her to continue.
“Last month, Jenny had called me,” she explained. “We hardly hadn’t spoken in years, after … after her dad died. She had only called my once about a year ago to tell me she had been right about her father’s death, but somehow … the conversation got out-of-control and she hung up on me.”
She did that a lot, Jethro thought, recalling the many times Jenny had hung up on him - or vice versa.
“I wanted her to let go of this … obsession over her father’s death. It’s been twelve years since he had died. That’s a long time - too long for such a young person with all her life ahead of her. You understand that, don’t you, Agent Gibbs?”
“I do,” Jethro answered, although he was thinking otherwise. Sometimes a whole lifetime wasn’t enough to overcome a painful loss. He knew that from experience. But on the other hand, he also knew that Mrs. Montgomery was right. You couldn’t always live in the past. The past was gone and unchangeable. You had to accept it, work with it and start living in the present or focus on the future. You had to let go. But sometimes living in the past was so much easier. It was astonishing that someone like Jenny, who knew exactly what she wanted from life, had such a hard time letting go of the past.
Or maybe, he was wrong. Maybe killing La Grenouille, taking vengeance for her father’s death, had been her way to let go of her past, her chance to focus on the future again. Sadly, her future had been a short one ...
“Jenny was special. She always knew what was best for her and she just did it as good as she could,” Jethro said, trying to offer an explanation for Jenny’s behavior. He felt that he owed her that. “Maybe that was her way to deal with your husband’s death, Ma’am?”
“Yes, maybe you're right. Maybe it was.” Mrs. Montgomery sighed. “As I said before … Jenny was stubborn, and she got that from me. Maybe that was the reason why we never got along well with each other. When she called last month ago I knew something was terribly wrong. Please don’t get this the wrong way, Agent Gibbs, I loved my daughter and I really missed her, but when she called out of the sudden I got suspicious.”
“That’s understandable, Ma’am.”
She gave him a grateful smile, before the spoke again, “Jenny wanted to meet and … catch up. We talked for about an hour on the phone, and it was really nice. We both were very careful with what we said, but it was still relaxing. I was really looking forward to see her again. Last week she left a message on my answering machine, postponing our meeting, because she had some business to take care of.”
“The funeral. Agent Decker’s funeral in Los Angeles.”
“Yes. I have to admit, I was angry by the time I got the message, and I accused her of trying to avoid me again. If I had known this was the last time I … she … the last time I would hear her voice I would have …” She broke off, sobbing.
Jethro went over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Ma’am,” he said, softly. “If there is anything I can do …”
“That’s very kind of you, Agent Gibbs, but … you can’t bring me my daughter back, can you?”
“I wish I could,” Jethro answered, hoarsely. “I would give anything for one last day, but …” He shrugged, sighing.
“You really liked her, didn’t you, Agent Gibbs?” Mrs. Montgomery asked after a while. Jethro could hear that she was still crying. “You made her happy.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“But I do,” she said, knowingly and reached for her purse. She opened it and took out something that looked like a book.
“Four days ago, Jenny’s lawyer called,” she explained, handing him over what indeed was a book. “It seems as if Jenny had taken care of everything; like she always did. Always prepared ...” She smiled. “She deposited some documents and a key to a deposit box with her lawyer ordering him to hand these things over after … after she was gone. Inside the box among other things I found this. I think you should have it.” Smiling, she patted Jethro’s arm. “I came here tonight to give this to you and to … I wanted to get a good look on the man, who made my little girl happy, who made her laugh again. Thank you for your time, Agent Gibbs.” She gave him one last smile, before walking to the stairs. On the first step she turned around again. “I wish we had met sooner, Jethro. Good night.”
“Good night, Ma’am.” Jethro stared at her, unable to move or say anything else, the book still tight in his hand.
Mrs. Montgomery was long gone, when he was finally able to move again.
He sat down, carefully placing the book on his workbench. He poured himself another drink. Then he just sat there, for a long time, staring at the book as if he was hoping this would tell him what was inside. He felt like that day, when he had found Kelly's time capsule, and like back then he now hesitated to open it, afraid that what was inside would bring back memories he wasn’t able to deal with.
Finally, he took the book in his hand and flipped it over.
It was one of these scrapbooks young girls would carry around, only this one was unremarkable; dark blue and the typical sticker and glittering drawings were missing. The book looked old, worn out, like it had been carried around for years. Maybe it actually was.
He ran his fingers over Jenny’s neat handwriting on the cover.
“Our last summer - Europe 1998/2000”
Jethro breathed in deeply, trying to get some strength for what was waiting for him.
Then, with shaking hands, he opened the book.
The first page was filled with text, lyrics he had never heard of before, but this didn't mean anything. He had never been into music, but when he read the text, he realized why Jenny had chosen this song; except for a few lines it was telling their story, their last summer in Paris.
I can still recall our last summer
I still see it all
Walks along the Seine, laughing in the rain
Our last summer
Memories that remain
Smiling, Jethro turned the pages, only to find pictures of what he was just recalling in his mind.
Jenny in front of the Eiffel tower, smiling like da Vinci's famous portrait; the skyline of Paris; some postcards they had bought on one of their walks through the city; a picture of him, sleeping on his - their - bed. He wondered when she had managed to take this picture and why he had never seen it before. He blinked, trying to make out the small words Jenny had written under this picture.
"Agent on duty."
He smiled, giving Jenny a mental head-slap. Somehow he had always suspected that she was secretly making fun of him.
He flipped through the next pages, all of them showing pictures of all the places their mission had taken them, and on most of them he saw Jenny, smiling and truly happy. He wondered if he indeed had been the reason for her happiness, like Mrs. Montgomery had told him, or if it just had been the excitement of their oversea-mission - something each young agent would enjoy. He wanted to believe that it was him, but he wasn't sure.
Sighing, he sipped at his glass, turning over the next page. It seemed as if he had reached the 'Serbia section'. Pictures of the farmhouse they had spent these endless weeks in, were arranged on the next three pages, including one picture of Jenny's favorite cow - a white one she had named 'Sofia', if his memories weren't failing him - and the picture of her in front of the farmhouse, he had given her after his return from Mexico.
It had been the only picture he had owned of that time, and now he knew why. Jenny had secreted the rest of them, only to collect them in this book - among some other souvenirs, like a piece of paper they had used to write down the scores, when the had tried killing time over a few card games, and a dried flower he remembered cutting for her out of pure boredom. Jenny had called him sweet and it had been the first time then that she had told him she loved him. She had taken him by surprise and all he had managed to do was stare at her and change the subject. Afterwards, he had felt bad for his behavior and he had tried to make it up to her by cooking her dinner and agreeing on watching a movie. He couldn't remember what movie she had chosen and if they had ever managed to see the end of it, but this night had been a special one for both of them. Maybe that was the reason why Jenny had kept the flower ...
Jethro flipped through the last pages, finding some more pictures and souvenirs, all of them reminding him of the great time they had had back then, and when he closed the book, he felt much better then he had first expected. He was still sad and he missed her (and these times) badly, but this book … these were memories they both had shared and he was grateful that she had given him the opportunity to be a part of her happier times.
Standing up, Jethro took the book and carried it over to the drawer by the wall. He opened it and placed the book on top of Kelly's small suitcase. He moved his hand first over a picture of his mother and then touched Kate's sketchbook, glad that he also owned a piece of her. He took out Shannon's wedding band, polishing it with his shirt, like he always did when he opened that drawer to make sure everything was still there, before he put it back.
Closing the drawer, he smiled weakly.
It may be true that all women he cared most about in his life, had left him far too early, but he was thankful for every minute he had shared with them, for all the memories he had and that no one would ever take away from him.
Memories were something that remained, and with them a part of the people he had lost would always live on. And he knew that this knowledge would one day give him finally the closure he needed.
- The End -
AUTHOR: nicis_anatomy
CHARACTER: Jethro Gibbs, Jenny's mother
GENRE: Gen, Drama (reflection on Jenny and Jethro's past 'canon' relationship)
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: 4752
SUMMARY: Jethro's world has been turned upside down, when he gets a visitor, who is looking for some closure. Written for prompt #10 "Remember the good times." for 24_times and quote #16 "Being a strong powerful women ..." for madame_director.
WARNINGS: English still isn't my native language (although I wish) and the story is not beta'd. - SPOILER for 5.18/19 "Judgement day" and slightly for 6.01 "Last Man Standing".
NOTES: This is the longest story I've ever written in English and I don't know if it makes any sense at all. We never learned anything about Jenny's mother, but since she had her on speed dial in 3.23 I assume she is still alive.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.
"Take care of all your memories.
For you cannot relive them."
(Bob Dylan)
~*~*~*~*
It was late on a Friday evening and Jethro had just poured his third (or was it his fourth? Truth was, had stopped counting after the first) glass of bourbon, when the doorbell rang.
Startled, he straightened in his chair, his eyes moving upwards to the basement ceiling as if he had actually the power to look right through it to see who was on his front door.
It couldn't be anyone he knew, because they would know that the door was always open when he was at home. And after last week's events there was nearly no one left who would have visited him on a Friday night.
So many things had changed that sometimes he wondered if this was all one big nightmare he was stuck in and would sooner or later wake from, only to realize that everyone he cared about was still here, with him, instead of someplace else.
It had been one week since they buried Jenny and nearly as long since his team was split up and sent to different places around the world; Ziva was back in Israel, Tony shipped out four days ago, McGee was working for the cyber crime division, and although he was still located at the Navy Yard, it felt like he was miles away, living in another world. Abby and Ducky were still with him, as was Jimmy Palmer, but it was not the same without the rest of the team, and all three of them were only a shelf of their former selves.
The events had been hard on them, and Jethro wondered if they, too, felt as empty and lonely as he felt. Their world had been turned upside down as well, and maybe for them it was even more difficult, because he had changed, too, although he pretended to be still the same old bastard they were used to, only to give them some confidence, some routine, the feeling that not everything was lost.
Truth was, he had changed - maybe even more then the rest of his team together.
When he wasn't at his desk or in the field, he was in his basement, working on his boat and drinking Bourbon, like he used to do until last week. But the hours he spent in the office were reduced to a minimum and his nights felt longer then ever, while the time between two empty bottles of his 'medicine' shortened each day. He knew he wouldn't be able to move on like this for much longer, but at the moment this way seemed to be the only one he was able to take.
One day he would have to pay the price for this attitude, but today … well, he didn't really care.
When the doorbell rang a second time, Jethro sent up a whole bunch of curses through the ceiling. He wasn't in the mood for visitors or - worse - some salesperson who would try to talk him into buying a new vacuum cleaner or sign up on a subscription for a newspaper he wouldn't read anyway, but something in the strange sound of the bell forced him to put his glass down and answer the door.
He climbed the stairs, slowly, as if each step was a mile high, and walk down the hallway until he reached his front door. He hesitated one last time, before his hand moved to the doorknob. He opened the door just when his visitor reached for the bell a third time.
It was already dawning and at first he could only make out the outline of the person on his doorstep. Then as if they wanted to help him see clear, the clouds moved, giving the sun another chance to rise, and his vision cleared.
The first thing he noticed was her hair; long, red curls, mostly hidden under a dark scarf. Jethro blinked, assuming his mind was playing tricks on him as it had done all week - he suddenly started to see redheads everywhere he turned; on the street, at his favorite coffee place, in his dreams … it felt like he was reliving the time after Shannon's and Kelly's death all over again -, but when he opened his eyes again, the red color was still there, accompanied by a smile, that made him stumble backwards.
He knew this smile by heart. It was Jenny's smile; the smile she had giving him the first day they had ever met more than ten years ago, and that had been burned into his memory forever.
Jethro blinked again, silently blaming the bourbon for this Fata Morgana, but when his eyes moved upwards and met bright blue eyes, the magic was suddenly gone, and the illusion turned into a real person. But still … that woman was Jenny - and yet she wasn't. Except for the different eye color and her age she could have been Jenny's twin-sister.
"Agent Gibbs?" The woman asked, startling him out of his thoughts.
"Are you Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs?" She asked again, when he didn't answer, the sparkle in her eyes reminded him once again of the woman he had been in love with - and maybe still was? - all these years ago.
Finally, he managed to nod, still unable to say anything.
"I'm sorry to bother you at such a late hour, Agent Gibbs," she said, offering her hand to him. "I was told I would probably find you here. My name is Violet Montgomery. I am -"
"Jenny's mother?" Jethro asked, hoarsely.
"That's right," Mrs. Montgomery answered, softly and lowered her head as if the sound of Jenny's name alone would cause her pain. Jethro was sure, it indeed did, because for him hearing it was like being stabbed with a sharp knife right into his heart over and over again. But for him Jenny was only a former partner and lover, a friend. He could only imagine how much grief this pour woman felt.
"Please come in," he offered, leading Jenny's mother into the house. "Can I get you something? Some water or anything stronger?"
Mrs. Montgomery shook her head. "I'm fine. Thank you, Agent Gibbs," she answered. She walked into the hallway and looked around. Noticing the open basement door, she turned back to Jethro.
"Do you actually have a boat in your basement?" Amusement swung in her voice, but Jethro was used to it. He hadn't met anyone who hadn't had sounded surprised by this news.
"Yes, Ma'am," he answered. "I am building a boat. In my basement. Did your daughter tell you this?"
Again, she shook her head and gave him a sad smile. Jethro bit his tongue. He wished for the chance to take this question back, but as usual he couldn't. Damage was done, and all that was left for him was to make sure that the damage was limited.
"I'm…" He'd almost said he was sorry, which would have broken one of his own rule, but Mrs. Montgomery shook her head one more time and spared him this 'crime'.
"Dr. Mallard told me," she said. "I talked to him about an hour again. He is a handsome man; kind and well-mannered. Scottish, I suppose."
"Yes, he is, Ma'am." Jethro smiled, relieved and thankful that she had saved this situation with changing the subject. "All of these things, actually. Do you … do you want me to show you my boat?"
"'I'd love to."
Smiling, Jethro led Jenny’s mother down the stairs to his basement, watching with proud as she looked around, making some sounds that suggested she was impressed and pleased with what she saw. Confused, he realized that he was holding his breathe, eagerly awaiting her opinion. It nearly felt like he was trying to impress his mother-in-law, and with some sadness he came to the conclusion that this thought wasn’t so far-fetched at all. Besides some 'what-if’s' and 'if-only’s' the idea of marrying Jenny once had been a great one; back in Europe, before everything had changed from being great to becoming just complicated. Before she had left him to do what was best for her. Before she had come back to be his boss …
Jethro sighed and tried to repress these memories, but this was - as usual - harder than he had wished for.
“Kelly …" Jenny's mother pointed at the inscription on the hull. "Is this your wife?”
The question caught Jethro by surprise and it took him a second, before he could answer.
“No, Kelly is … she’s my daughter,” he answered. Lowering his head, he tried to avoid the piercing glance, that woman definitely had passed on to her daughter. He felt like being x-rayed by her blue eyes, and it was like she could read him like an open book. Slowly, he was starting to regret that he had opened the door to let Mrs. Montgomery into his house and somehow with that into his life.
“Is she with her mother?” She asked, softly, showing him that she had caught the signal between the lines, that this was a bad subject, but at the same time she seemed unwilling to lead the conversation into another direction.
“Yes, she is. She is with her mother.” The answer was as close to the truth as Jethro was willing to share, and he looked around his basement, desperately trying to find something for distraction.
“That’s good,” She said, nodding in understanding. “A girl should be with her mother.”
The sadness in her voice caught Jethro’s attention. He gave his visitor a questioning look and pointed at the chair in the corner.
Without hesitation, Jenny's mother sat down, while he made himself comfortable on a box beside his boat. Silently, he waited for her to continue and to finally tell him why she was here.
“My husband and I got divorced when Jenny was fifteen,” she told him, after she had took her time to place her huge purse on the dusty workbench behind her and crossed her legs.
She painfully reminded him of Jenny, when she had been sitting on the same chair her first day as Director. While he had showered and changed, she had waited for him in his basement and her long legs had been the first thing he had noticed, when he had came down the stairs …
Again, Jethro forced himself to forget the past to focus on the future, and yet again it was easier said than done; especially with the older version of Jenny sitting right in front of him.
“Jenny stayed with her father,” She continued, obviously unaware of Jethro’s thoughts, for what he was more than thankful. “She had always been her daddy’s girl. She had to accompany him wherever he went. Like his little shadow.” A smile played around her lips, but the look she gave him was full of sadness. “And Jasper … he didn’t mind having her around. Jenny was his little Princess, and he was proud of everything she did. He on the other hand was her hero, and Jenny did everything to not disappoint him.”
The picture of a small version of Jenny with red pigtails clung to her father’s coat-tails, that formed in Jethro's head, while the woman was telling him stories he would never have heard from Jenny, rose him a smile.
“I’m sure he would have been proud of her and what she did,” he said and Jenny's mother nodded.
“I believe he was the reason, why she wanted to become an agent, to wear a weapon and to play with the big guys," she said. "I always wanted her to become something … more suitable for a beautiful girl like she was. But she had always been stubborn and after Jasper … you know what happened to him?” She asked.
Jethro nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“After he died, Jenny changed,” she continued. “She couldn’t believe that her father would have killed himself and to be honest, Agent Gibbs … I couldn’t either. Jasper would never have left Jenny behind. This wasn't him. But before his death … he was depressed. Something was going on at work. I don’t know what it was, but it must have been big, and when the medical examiner confirmed the suicide I came to terms with it. I wanted to get peace and leave everything behind. There was no way to bring him back to life, but it was our duty to give him peace. Jenny disagreed. She didn’t believe in his suicide. We had a big fight and afterwards … we didn’t speak for years. She broke up any contact and if it wasn’t for Noemi, the housekeeper who stayed with Jenny, I wouldn’t have even known that Jenny joined NCIS and went to Europe. You worked with her back then, didn’t you?”
“She was in my team,” Jethro answered, again avoiding direct eye contact. He wasn’t sure if Mrs. Montgomery was trying to squeeze more information out of him or if she already knew that he and Jenny had been more then just partners, and he wasn’t sure how she would feel if she’d knew the truth.
“Jenny was a damn good agent and a … wonderful person, Ma'am. She had had many friends and although her job wasn’t easy, she handled everything as good as she could. She made some mistakes, for sure, but that's human. She earned a lot of respect and … we all liked her and we miss her.” He had no idea where these words were suddenly coming from, but he couldn’t stop himself, and after he'd finished he was somehow relieved and proud at the same time that he had finally said what he’d felt for years. He only wished he would have been able to tell Jenny these things face-to-face month ago. But since Jenny was gone, her mother seemed to be a good alternative. Plus, he had the feeling this was what this woman needed to hear. He may not be the most sensitive person in the world, but had always been good at dealing with grieving relatives. This was like doing his job, a thing he had done many times before - only that this time it felt more personal than it should be.
“Someone once said that being a strong, powerful woman was a thankless job. Men would be afraid of you, women would feel threaten by you; and that in the end, a powerful woman often stands alone. I never wanted that for my little girl. But hearing you talk like this … maybe this someone was wrong.” Jenny's mother shrugged, but smiled grateful. “I believe you, Agent Gibbs. I’ve seen you and your colleagues at the funeral, and trust me, I’ve been to many funerals and I know when it’s just a charade and when the tears are real. This young girl with the black pigtails … It was really nice of her to play that song. Jenny would have liked it …" Mrs. Montgomery fell silent, looking at him as if she wanted to ask him a question but didn't know how or if she should. Then she sighed, pulling herself together.
"She didn’t die in that fire, did she? Agent Gibbs?”
Jethro’s smile vanished and for a moment he looked shocked, wondering what he should say, what he could say in order to protect Jenny and in the end himself. He had no idea what Jenny had told her mother - if she had even spoken to her at all over the past years - and if he could trust her. Natasha Lenkov was dead, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he was safe for good. There were still some bad guys out there, trying to find him, to get revenge for Natasha's death. On the other hand … this woman was Jenny’s mother, and she had been married to someone who had worked high classified operations for the pentagon. If she wouldn’t know what discretion meant, who would? Furthermore, she was obviously here to get some closure. She had a right to know the truth.
“Jenny died in California,” he said, slowly, carefully watching her reaction. “She was … someone was after her. There was a shooting. Jenny put up a hell of a fight. She died as a hero, killing four of them, before she … she had no chance, Ma'am,” he added softly Jenny's mother swallowed hard. She reached for a tissue to dry her tears.
“That’s what I thought,” she finally said, after she took a moment to calm down. “I knew she hadn’t died in this fire. Something terrible had happened. Call it instinct or … a gut feeling, Agent Gibbs. I just knew it. Did she suffer?”
Jethro slightly shock his head. Actually, he had no idea, but Ducky had assured him, that the last bullet had killed her nearly instantly.
“There is more, Ma’am," he said. "Jenny had … she was sick. The doctors had given her only a few more months, before she ...”
“That would explain everything,” she mumbled, and Jethro wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or only to herself. So he just sat there and waited for her to continue.
“Last month, Jenny had called me,” she explained. “We hardly hadn’t spoken in years, after … after her dad died. She had only called my once about a year ago to tell me she had been right about her father’s death, but somehow … the conversation got out-of-control and she hung up on me.”
She did that a lot, Jethro thought, recalling the many times Jenny had hung up on him - or vice versa.
“I wanted her to let go of this … obsession over her father’s death. It’s been twelve years since he had died. That’s a long time - too long for such a young person with all her life ahead of her. You understand that, don’t you, Agent Gibbs?”
“I do,” Jethro answered, although he was thinking otherwise. Sometimes a whole lifetime wasn’t enough to overcome a painful loss. He knew that from experience. But on the other hand, he also knew that Mrs. Montgomery was right. You couldn’t always live in the past. The past was gone and unchangeable. You had to accept it, work with it and start living in the present or focus on the future. You had to let go. But sometimes living in the past was so much easier. It was astonishing that someone like Jenny, who knew exactly what she wanted from life, had such a hard time letting go of the past.
Or maybe, he was wrong. Maybe killing La Grenouille, taking vengeance for her father’s death, had been her way to let go of her past, her chance to focus on the future again. Sadly, her future had been a short one ...
“Jenny was special. She always knew what was best for her and she just did it as good as she could,” Jethro said, trying to offer an explanation for Jenny’s behavior. He felt that he owed her that. “Maybe that was her way to deal with your husband’s death, Ma’am?”
“Yes, maybe you're right. Maybe it was.” Mrs. Montgomery sighed. “As I said before … Jenny was stubborn, and she got that from me. Maybe that was the reason why we never got along well with each other. When she called last month ago I knew something was terribly wrong. Please don’t get this the wrong way, Agent Gibbs, I loved my daughter and I really missed her, but when she called out of the sudden I got suspicious.”
“That’s understandable, Ma’am.”
She gave him a grateful smile, before the spoke again, “Jenny wanted to meet and … catch up. We talked for about an hour on the phone, and it was really nice. We both were very careful with what we said, but it was still relaxing. I was really looking forward to see her again. Last week she left a message on my answering machine, postponing our meeting, because she had some business to take care of.”
“The funeral. Agent Decker’s funeral in Los Angeles.”
“Yes. I have to admit, I was angry by the time I got the message, and I accused her of trying to avoid me again. If I had known this was the last time I … she … the last time I would hear her voice I would have …” She broke off, sobbing.
Jethro went over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Ma’am,” he said, softly. “If there is anything I can do …”
“That’s very kind of you, Agent Gibbs, but … you can’t bring me my daughter back, can you?”
“I wish I could,” Jethro answered, hoarsely. “I would give anything for one last day, but …” He shrugged, sighing.
“You really liked her, didn’t you, Agent Gibbs?” Mrs. Montgomery asked after a while. Jethro could hear that she was still crying. “You made her happy.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“But I do,” she said, knowingly and reached for her purse. She opened it and took out something that looked like a book.
“Four days ago, Jenny’s lawyer called,” she explained, handing him over what indeed was a book. “It seems as if Jenny had taken care of everything; like she always did. Always prepared ...” She smiled. “She deposited some documents and a key to a deposit box with her lawyer ordering him to hand these things over after … after she was gone. Inside the box among other things I found this. I think you should have it.” Smiling, she patted Jethro’s arm. “I came here tonight to give this to you and to … I wanted to get a good look on the man, who made my little girl happy, who made her laugh again. Thank you for your time, Agent Gibbs.” She gave him one last smile, before walking to the stairs. On the first step she turned around again. “I wish we had met sooner, Jethro. Good night.”
“Good night, Ma’am.” Jethro stared at her, unable to move or say anything else, the book still tight in his hand.
Mrs. Montgomery was long gone, when he was finally able to move again.
He sat down, carefully placing the book on his workbench. He poured himself another drink. Then he just sat there, for a long time, staring at the book as if he was hoping this would tell him what was inside. He felt like that day, when he had found Kelly's time capsule, and like back then he now hesitated to open it, afraid that what was inside would bring back memories he wasn’t able to deal with.
Finally, he took the book in his hand and flipped it over.
It was one of these scrapbooks young girls would carry around, only this one was unremarkable; dark blue and the typical sticker and glittering drawings were missing. The book looked old, worn out, like it had been carried around for years. Maybe it actually was.
He ran his fingers over Jenny’s neat handwriting on the cover.
“Our last summer - Europe 1998/2000”
Jethro breathed in deeply, trying to get some strength for what was waiting for him.
Then, with shaking hands, he opened the book.
The first page was filled with text, lyrics he had never heard of before, but this didn't mean anything. He had never been into music, but when he read the text, he realized why Jenny had chosen this song; except for a few lines it was telling their story, their last summer in Paris.
I can still recall our last summer
I still see it all
Walks along the Seine, laughing in the rain
Our last summer
Memories that remain
Smiling, Jethro turned the pages, only to find pictures of what he was just recalling in his mind.
Jenny in front of the Eiffel tower, smiling like da Vinci's famous portrait; the skyline of Paris; some postcards they had bought on one of their walks through the city; a picture of him, sleeping on his - their - bed. He wondered when she had managed to take this picture and why he had never seen it before. He blinked, trying to make out the small words Jenny had written under this picture.
"Agent on duty."
He smiled, giving Jenny a mental head-slap. Somehow he had always suspected that she was secretly making fun of him.
He flipped through the next pages, all of them showing pictures of all the places their mission had taken them, and on most of them he saw Jenny, smiling and truly happy. He wondered if he indeed had been the reason for her happiness, like Mrs. Montgomery had told him, or if it just had been the excitement of their oversea-mission - something each young agent would enjoy. He wanted to believe that it was him, but he wasn't sure.
Sighing, he sipped at his glass, turning over the next page. It seemed as if he had reached the 'Serbia section'. Pictures of the farmhouse they had spent these endless weeks in, were arranged on the next three pages, including one picture of Jenny's favorite cow - a white one she had named 'Sofia', if his memories weren't failing him - and the picture of her in front of the farmhouse, he had given her after his return from Mexico.
It had been the only picture he had owned of that time, and now he knew why. Jenny had secreted the rest of them, only to collect them in this book - among some other souvenirs, like a piece of paper they had used to write down the scores, when the had tried killing time over a few card games, and a dried flower he remembered cutting for her out of pure boredom. Jenny had called him sweet and it had been the first time then that she had told him she loved him. She had taken him by surprise and all he had managed to do was stare at her and change the subject. Afterwards, he had felt bad for his behavior and he had tried to make it up to her by cooking her dinner and agreeing on watching a movie. He couldn't remember what movie she had chosen and if they had ever managed to see the end of it, but this night had been a special one for both of them. Maybe that was the reason why Jenny had kept the flower ...
Jethro flipped through the last pages, finding some more pictures and souvenirs, all of them reminding him of the great time they had had back then, and when he closed the book, he felt much better then he had first expected. He was still sad and he missed her (and these times) badly, but this book … these were memories they both had shared and he was grateful that she had given him the opportunity to be a part of her happier times.
Standing up, Jethro took the book and carried it over to the drawer by the wall. He opened it and placed the book on top of Kelly's small suitcase. He moved his hand first over a picture of his mother and then touched Kate's sketchbook, glad that he also owned a piece of her. He took out Shannon's wedding band, polishing it with his shirt, like he always did when he opened that drawer to make sure everything was still there, before he put it back.
Closing the drawer, he smiled weakly.
It may be true that all women he cared most about in his life, had left him far too early, but he was thankful for every minute he had shared with them, for all the memories he had and that no one would ever take away from him.
Memories were something that remained, and with them a part of the people he had lost would always live on. And he knew that this knowledge would one day give him finally the closure he needed.
- The End -