Fic: After Life - Alternate Scene, Jenny/Gibbs, (1/1)
Title: After Life - Alternative Scene
Fandom: NCIS (TV Show)
Character/Pairing: Jenny Shepard/Jethro Gibbs
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance, General
Summary: Post Judgement Day Fix-it. Jenny and Gibbs find each other again.
Length: 1,585 words
Status: Complete
Author Note: The original and complete copy of this fic can be found here: After Life.
Thirteen Months Earlier.
There’s a long moment of silence when she sees him. Joy and panic and a certain kind of resignation because somehow, some part of her had known this could happen.
And then he sees her and she has to fight down the urge to run. She doesn’t even seriously contemplate him not recognising her. She has changed, there’s no doubt about that, but even across the market she knows he is seeing her. The way he pulls off his glasses and squints against the distance between them tells her he probably doesn’t believe it.
His mouth falls open and snaps closed and she runs.
---
“You’re dead.” He says as they lean, panting, against the side of an old tin wall. He was a Sniper and a Marine and she hasn’t been out of hospital long, hasn’t built up enough of her strength to stand a chance at losing him.
“I am.” She grips the side of her that feels like its splitting open, even though she had the stitches removed two-weeks ago and the skin has sealed itself shut.
“Jen.” He growls, regaining his breath a lot quicker than she is.
“Elizabeth.” She responds, the word breaking into two halves while she waits for her lungs to stop sucking in so much air. It really had been too early to try running.
Gibbs blinks, eyes narrowing at her as understanding passes behind them.
“Jen.” He says again, and she nods, resigned, dropping her eyes. After all, he’s seen her now, it isn’t like she’s ever going to convince him he hasn’t.
This isn’t the way she’s imagined this going. And as impossible as this little reunion was supposed to be, she has imagined it a lot. All those months recovering, receiving coded and vague messages about him and his team. And every day she wondered if she would ever see him again, and if she did, what she would do.
Strangely, running away hadn’t come close to any of those fantasies.
“I thought you were dead.” He says and her body tenses with how close he’s gotten to her now.
“You were supposed to.” She ignores his flinch, fighting the urge to take a deep breath just to smell him. “You’re still supposed to. Gibbs-” He slams a hand hard against the metal beside her head cutting her off.
He presses a shoulder into the wall on the other side of her, fencing her in with his body. The shadows of the alleyway make his eyes look darker than the blue she knows they are. She reaches up a hand between them, resting it against his forearm, her fingers curling around the tensed muscle.
“You’re scaring me, Jethro.” Her voice is weak even to her own ears and because it’s coming from inside her, she knows it isn’t just fear that’s put the tremble there.
The hand by her head circles her wrist, pulling it away from him and holding it up above her. He pushes off the wall and takes her other hand, mirroring the action.
“I’m scaring you.” He says, leaning in closer. “I’m scaring you? Dammit, Jen! I thought you were dead!” And then he kisses her; all bared teeth and hard lips, but he’s kissing her and she folds into him, reluctantly glad for his tight hold on her.
He only pulls away enough to let them both take a breath. “I’m sorry.” She says while he kisses and bites his way down her neck. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
---
“DiNozzo doesn’t know.” She says apropos to nothing, when they’ve both calmed down a little and moved to the tiny café around the corner.
“Then how?” He asks. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of her since they stepped back out into the busy Paris street. She doesn’t say anything about it, she hasn’t looked away from him much herself.
“The bullets were real, Jethro. When Ziva and DiNozzo found me I- the Doctor’s said my pulse rate was so low when they got there that even they almost missed it.” She takes a sip from her cup, the fragrant coffee burning her throat as she swallows it down. He waits for her to continue, his eyes flicking between the places where the bullets hit and her face. “There were people, in place.” She tells him, hesitating over how much or how little he should know.
He frowns at her, reading her reluctance and he knows too much already so she thinks, to hell with it.
“Your team weren’t the only protection out there. There had been some intel, a few months earlier, the SecNav was concerned after they pulled some transcripts.” She stops again.
“So they followed you and after the shoot-out, when everyone else thought you were dead, they covered it up.” He isn’t asking her. “You should have told me Jen.”
His voice rises and Jenny forces a smile at the few people who turn to look at the noisy Americans. “Top level.” Is all she says, her voice tight.
He doesn’t shout again, but for all that he must understand, he doesn’t appear ready to accept it.
“They healed me up, gave me a new name, a new life and sent me out of the country.” She looks at him, really looks, her heart thumping in her chest because she really, really, shouldn’t have ever seen him again. Leaning forward, she lays her hand over his on the table. “I can’t ever go back to America, Jethro. To keep my life, I have to stay dead.” She laughs a little, the sound just this side of bitter and removes her hand.
"What about..." He trails off unexpectedly and she looks up from her cup to see him studying her closely.
"Jethro?"
"Ducky said...He had your medical records." He crosses his arms against his chest and sets his chin.
"They were pulling me out." She says, taking a deep breath. "The intel. There were some people who weren't happy with the way the Agency had raised its head the last few years."
She can see some more understanding slip into his eyes.
"Who's?" He asks.
"My mother's. Manipulated to look like mine." She looks away from him at that, out across the sea of people. By the bridge a mime hands a small girl some flowers and bends at the waist to let her kiss his cheek.
"Ducky said you still had some time, how long were you supposed to keep up the act?"
"Not long." She says. The girl runs to her father, giggling as she's lifted into the air and swung around. "Do you know the rate of suicide among people with chronic illnesses?"
"That's not who you are Jen." She smiles, still watching the father and daughter.
"I don't know, Jethro." She shakes her head, turning back to him. "With my family history." She shrugs. "It probably would have worked. Only Svetlana got there first."
He sits back, body relaxing as he gulps down his drink.
“The letter.” He says eventually and she nods, humming, not at all surprised that he found it. What there was of it.
A fiddler pauses between the tables, the tune he plays is an old favourite of hers and when he finishes Gibbs digs out his wallet to pass him some money. The musician turns to his case and pulls out a long stemmed rose.
She smiles as Gibbs passes her the flower.
“We've always had Paris” She murmmers, inhaling the soft scent of the petals.
"And Venice." He drawls, winking and she blushes.
---
“I’m not staying here.” She says, noting the irony of the words as they approach her apartment.
“Come back with me.” He responds, as though they haven’t spent the last three hours together tearing apart and putting back together all the events that lead to her death.
“You know I can’t.” He opens his mouth but she continues over him. “The Agency needs you Jethro and” that’s not my world anymore “I’m dead.” She presses a kiss against his lips, force of will alone allowing her to pull back and start up the front steps of her building. They never say goodbye.
“I bought a house.” He says and she pauses mid-step. “In Mexico.” He clarifies.
“Jethro...” She turns back to him instinctively. He holds up a hand.
“I quit three weeks ago.” He rises up a step.
“But, your team.” She protests, almost reflexively because he quit.
“DiNozzo can handle it. After.” He looks at her pointedly and she drops her eyes. “They’re closer than they’ve ever been. Besides, Abby made me promise to go back at least once every two months. I have to speak to them every week.” He grumbles, full of affection.
“They can’t know I’m there.” She says and Gibbs smiles, taking the last step up to her. It takes her a moment of looking at that smile to realise what she’s agreed to with those words.
“This is going to be a nightmare, Jethro. We’ll kill each other, just the two of us.” He ignores her, leaning in to kiss her.
She lets him. All of her plans, all of her neat little timetables that they never seemed to fit into mean nothing anymore.
“You’re dead.” He says, though it doesn’t come out quite as light as she’s sure he meant it and she knows they still have a lot of talking still to come. “Live a little.”
Fandom: NCIS (TV Show)
Character/Pairing: Jenny Shepard/Jethro Gibbs
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance, General
Summary: Post Judgement Day Fix-it. Jenny and Gibbs find each other again.
Length: 1,585 words
Status: Complete
Author Note: The original and complete copy of this fic can be found here: After Life.
Thirteen Months Earlier.
There’s a long moment of silence when she sees him. Joy and panic and a certain kind of resignation because somehow, some part of her had known this could happen.
And then he sees her and she has to fight down the urge to run. She doesn’t even seriously contemplate him not recognising her. She has changed, there’s no doubt about that, but even across the market she knows he is seeing her. The way he pulls off his glasses and squints against the distance between them tells her he probably doesn’t believe it.
His mouth falls open and snaps closed and she runs.
---
“You’re dead.” He says as they lean, panting, against the side of an old tin wall. He was a Sniper and a Marine and she hasn’t been out of hospital long, hasn’t built up enough of her strength to stand a chance at losing him.
“I am.” She grips the side of her that feels like its splitting open, even though she had the stitches removed two-weeks ago and the skin has sealed itself shut.
“Jen.” He growls, regaining his breath a lot quicker than she is.
“Elizabeth.” She responds, the word breaking into two halves while she waits for her lungs to stop sucking in so much air. It really had been too early to try running.
Gibbs blinks, eyes narrowing at her as understanding passes behind them.
“Jen.” He says again, and she nods, resigned, dropping her eyes. After all, he’s seen her now, it isn’t like she’s ever going to convince him he hasn’t.
This isn’t the way she’s imagined this going. And as impossible as this little reunion was supposed to be, she has imagined it a lot. All those months recovering, receiving coded and vague messages about him and his team. And every day she wondered if she would ever see him again, and if she did, what she would do.
Strangely, running away hadn’t come close to any of those fantasies.
“I thought you were dead.” He says and her body tenses with how close he’s gotten to her now.
“You were supposed to.” She ignores his flinch, fighting the urge to take a deep breath just to smell him. “You’re still supposed to. Gibbs-” He slams a hand hard against the metal beside her head cutting her off.
He presses a shoulder into the wall on the other side of her, fencing her in with his body. The shadows of the alleyway make his eyes look darker than the blue she knows they are. She reaches up a hand between them, resting it against his forearm, her fingers curling around the tensed muscle.
“You’re scaring me, Jethro.” Her voice is weak even to her own ears and because it’s coming from inside her, she knows it isn’t just fear that’s put the tremble there.
The hand by her head circles her wrist, pulling it away from him and holding it up above her. He pushes off the wall and takes her other hand, mirroring the action.
“I’m scaring you.” He says, leaning in closer. “I’m scaring you? Dammit, Jen! I thought you were dead!” And then he kisses her; all bared teeth and hard lips, but he’s kissing her and she folds into him, reluctantly glad for his tight hold on her.
He only pulls away enough to let them both take a breath. “I’m sorry.” She says while he kisses and bites his way down her neck. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
---
“DiNozzo doesn’t know.” She says apropos to nothing, when they’ve both calmed down a little and moved to the tiny café around the corner.
“Then how?” He asks. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of her since they stepped back out into the busy Paris street. She doesn’t say anything about it, she hasn’t looked away from him much herself.
“The bullets were real, Jethro. When Ziva and DiNozzo found me I- the Doctor’s said my pulse rate was so low when they got there that even they almost missed it.” She takes a sip from her cup, the fragrant coffee burning her throat as she swallows it down. He waits for her to continue, his eyes flicking between the places where the bullets hit and her face. “There were people, in place.” She tells him, hesitating over how much or how little he should know.
He frowns at her, reading her reluctance and he knows too much already so she thinks, to hell with it.
“Your team weren’t the only protection out there. There had been some intel, a few months earlier, the SecNav was concerned after they pulled some transcripts.” She stops again.
“So they followed you and after the shoot-out, when everyone else thought you were dead, they covered it up.” He isn’t asking her. “You should have told me Jen.”
His voice rises and Jenny forces a smile at the few people who turn to look at the noisy Americans. “Top level.” Is all she says, her voice tight.
He doesn’t shout again, but for all that he must understand, he doesn’t appear ready to accept it.
“They healed me up, gave me a new name, a new life and sent me out of the country.” She looks at him, really looks, her heart thumping in her chest because she really, really, shouldn’t have ever seen him again. Leaning forward, she lays her hand over his on the table. “I can’t ever go back to America, Jethro. To keep my life, I have to stay dead.” She laughs a little, the sound just this side of bitter and removes her hand.
"What about..." He trails off unexpectedly and she looks up from her cup to see him studying her closely.
"Jethro?"
"Ducky said...He had your medical records." He crosses his arms against his chest and sets his chin.
"They were pulling me out." She says, taking a deep breath. "The intel. There were some people who weren't happy with the way the Agency had raised its head the last few years."
She can see some more understanding slip into his eyes.
"Who's?" He asks.
"My mother's. Manipulated to look like mine." She looks away from him at that, out across the sea of people. By the bridge a mime hands a small girl some flowers and bends at the waist to let her kiss his cheek.
"Ducky said you still had some time, how long were you supposed to keep up the act?"
"Not long." She says. The girl runs to her father, giggling as she's lifted into the air and swung around. "Do you know the rate of suicide among people with chronic illnesses?"
"That's not who you are Jen." She smiles, still watching the father and daughter.
"I don't know, Jethro." She shakes her head, turning back to him. "With my family history." She shrugs. "It probably would have worked. Only Svetlana got there first."
He sits back, body relaxing as he gulps down his drink.
“The letter.” He says eventually and she nods, humming, not at all surprised that he found it. What there was of it.
A fiddler pauses between the tables, the tune he plays is an old favourite of hers and when he finishes Gibbs digs out his wallet to pass him some money. The musician turns to his case and pulls out a long stemmed rose.
She smiles as Gibbs passes her the flower.
“We've always had Paris” She murmmers, inhaling the soft scent of the petals.
"And Venice." He drawls, winking and she blushes.
---
“I’m not staying here.” She says, noting the irony of the words as they approach her apartment.
“Come back with me.” He responds, as though they haven’t spent the last three hours together tearing apart and putting back together all the events that lead to her death.
“You know I can’t.” He opens his mouth but she continues over him. “The Agency needs you Jethro and” that’s not my world anymore “I’m dead.” She presses a kiss against his lips, force of will alone allowing her to pull back and start up the front steps of her building. They never say goodbye.
“I bought a house.” He says and she pauses mid-step. “In Mexico.” He clarifies.
“Jethro...” She turns back to him instinctively. He holds up a hand.
“I quit three weeks ago.” He rises up a step.
“But, your team.” She protests, almost reflexively because he quit.
“DiNozzo can handle it. After.” He looks at her pointedly and she drops her eyes. “They’re closer than they’ve ever been. Besides, Abby made me promise to go back at least once every two months. I have to speak to them every week.” He grumbles, full of affection.
“They can’t know I’m there.” She says and Gibbs smiles, taking the last step up to her. It takes her a moment of looking at that smile to realise what she’s agreed to with those words.
“This is going to be a nightmare, Jethro. We’ll kill each other, just the two of us.” He ignores her, leaning in to kiss her.
She lets him. All of her plans, all of her neat little timetables that they never seemed to fit into mean nothing anymore.
“You’re dead.” He says, though it doesn’t come out quite as light as she’s sure he meant it and she knows they still have a lot of talking still to come. “Live a little.”