Maintenance Man

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, the characters or much of anything else. If I did, I'd love to Gibbs slap whoever came up with the 'bright idea' of JD! No copyright infringement is intended. I'm not sure who owns the rights to "I'll Be Seeing You", but it's one of my favorites! It will always make me think of Paris and Jibbs!

Authors Note: My heart says 'it's not true" but my head tells me that "she really is gone". The only thing left for me to do is to read "Fan Fiction" when my life becomes a bit too overwhelming, and I need to let my mind be somewhere else. This is my very first try at fan fiction. Let me know what you think. (Many of you are so great at writing Jibbs that I will confess to being a bit intimidated!)

Pairing: Jenny and Jethro

Rating: T (I was in one of those moods)

She had always loved the fireplace in the study. True, the room held many memories, but not all of them were bad ones. She could remember good things: cool fall evenings, laughter on Christmas mornings when she was a child, toasted marshmallows, and hot chocolate. Not so long ago, a small boy had fallen asleep next to her fireplace. The air outside had been bitterly cold as she made her way from the car to her door. No snow yet, but they had forecasted some for early next week. Tonight, all she wanted was a glass of bourbon, soft music, and the crackle and glow of the logs on the fire.

She had come home early for once-- if one considered 2100 early. It was nice to ditch her "Director" attire and slip into her warm flannel PJ bottoms and an old NCIS T-shirt. Her hair was down and softly messed, makeup off, and there was no one expecting her to solve a crisis in the next five minutes. She eyed the stack of case files on her desk, and made herself a promise that she would look at them first thing in the morning.

For now, her plan was to relax in the leather recliner, sip her bourbon, and let her mind wander. The song on her IPOD (a gift from Abby) brought a sad smile to her lips. Weren't most love songs always the same? This one, however, was special. It brought back memories of Paris. She closed her eyes and listened.

I'll be seeing you
In all the old familiar places
That this heart of mine embraces
All day through

In that small cafe
The park across the way
The children's carousel
The chestnut tree
The wishing well.

I'll be seeing you
Through every lovely summer's day
In everything that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way

I'll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you

How bittersweet. Both the song and the memories of her time in Paris with Jethro. I miss him, she thought. They had danced one night in their flat to that song as it drifted up from the café and through their open window. She let herself remember the feel of his arms, the rhythm that came naturally as their bodies moved together, and the way his blue eyes turned just a shade darker with passion before he kissed her as the song ended.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, Jen?"

Her eyes flew open, shocked to find the man from her memory standing in the doorway to her study. She knew the increase in her heart rate was from more than just being startled. Dear God, how long had he been standing there?

"Jethro! Did you just break into my house?!" She hoped the annoyance in her tone hid the embarrassment she felt at being caught in such a vulnerable state.

"Nope" he smirked, "I used your spare key." He had no idea why his car seemed to drive itself to her house tonight instead of his own. That was a lie. He had an idea. The case with Carson had brought their relationship to an impasse. If he were honest, they had been dancing around this ever since she had returned to NCIS. Dancing. Ha! He remembered that song. He walked into the room and took her hand, dropping the key into it. He closed her hand over the key, gently cupping it in the process. Jenny was glad that the room was lit only by the fireplace. She was sure it would help hide the blush that rushed to her face at the unexpected touch of his fingers against her own.

"Nice song. Did you get Cynthia to put it on that Pod thingy Abby gave us?"

"No. I did it myself. Some of us have actually made friends with technology, Jethro. You should try it sometime" She sensed a strong desire to change the subject. Since work was the only safe option, she went that route. "Something I can do for you, Special Agent Gibbs? New case? Or are you making house calls just to annoy the hell out of me?"

"I thought doctors were the only ones that made house calls."

"Not in the last three decades! But, if they did, Ducky should be standing in my study—not you."

"True. But I do recall playing doctor a time or two" Deliberately baiting her had always been one of his favorite things to do. And it was the easiest way to make sure she didn't try and slip into her cool "Director" façade.

"Jethro!" Her voice warned. Her mind spinning with the memory of how well he "played doctor".

"Ah, c'mon, Jen. It's Friday night. My team doesn't have an open case. Can't a guy just stop by his old partner's house and share a glass of bourbon?"

The side of her mouth quirked in a small smile. "That line about the 'old partner' is getting redundant, Gibbs" She got out of the recliner, walked over to her desk and switched on the desk lamp. A little more light. More distance between her and Jethro. Both were sounding like safer options for her at the moment. Why was he here?

She went over to the liquor cabinet and got another glass. She poured a small measure of bourbon into it and handed it to her guest.

He looked down at the glass of bourbon, and then up into her eyes, "Trying to get rid of me, Jen?"

She smiled, 'No, Jethro. But you are going to have to drive home. If something were to happen to you on the way, who will I have at the agency to piss off the FBI? It would be a dull week if I didn't have to smooth things over at least once with Fornell or his boss."

"DiNozzo might volunteer. You'll have to motivate him with a little more than bourbon."

"Wouldn't that just send the rumor mill into over drive?" she teased.

"I think the rumor mill runs just fine without adding any more bets concerning the Director and her love life"

She raised a manicured brow, "Rumors and bets?"

"Sure. Between DiNozzo and Abby, the pot stays pretty hot. Of course, they probably start most of bets. DiNozzo, anyway."

"Really? I've never pegged you as one to listen to common scuttlebutt. Care to share?" She sat back in the recliner and indicated that Jethro was free to do the same in the one next to her. He took off his jacket, laid it carefully over the sofa and took the offer of the chair.

He smiled. Needling her about her love life just might work. "Last week, it was that guy Frank from the maintenance department. He was locked with you in your office for at least an hour and a half."

"Jethro, he was a plumber, for God's sake! The sink in my private bathroom had been leaking for two days! It needed servicing."

"Sure that was all that needed servicing?" He rolled his eyes when she shot him a look that clearly indicated he was treading on very thin ice.

"Since when has my sex life been any concern of yours?" Used to be all the time, she thought.

"Didn't realize you were lowering your standards, Jen. I thought it was just Congressmen and the occasional lobbyist now days. Of course, McGee just saw in his Redbook thingy, that most women find a man in a tool belt very attractive" He was enjoying this. Look or no look, it was the most fun he'd had in days.

"Lucky thing I'm not like most women" She replied icily. How dare he make a remark about her "needing servicing"!

"Ha!" he snorted, "Flowers, fancy dinners, flashy dresses—how do you figure you're not like most women?"

He was surprised at how quickly she had moved to his chair, lowering her head to whisper in his ear, "I once was told that I was most definitely not like other women, Jethro. You of all people should remember that—since you're the one who told me" Her voice was low, sexy, and laced with innuendo. Two can play this game.

He was glad that she had moved back to the liquor cabinet at that moment. The smell of her perfume, her warm breath in his ear, and just the glimpse of her cleavage as she bent over him was enough to shift his senses into overdrive.

She filled her bourbon glass and returned to her chair, smiling at him.

"I will admit that McGee is right about the tool belt. Very sexy. I'll have to buy one to keep in my office for the next maintenance man"

Jethro finished his small portion of bourbon in one swallow. What I would love to do to this woman right now, he thought. Gonna need more bourbon.

He got up and walked around her desk, grabbed the decanter of bourbon and filled his glass. A small 'pop!' and the light bulb on the desk lamp blew returning the room to firelight only.

"Guess I need a new bulb"

"I'd offer to change it for you, Jen, but I can't play maintenance man. Don't even own a tool belt"
He returned to his chair and turned his blue eyes to her green ones. "This could be fun. Sitting with you in the dark. Getting to know you all over again, it seems."

"Don't get your hopes up"

They sat quietly for a few minutes. Each sipping their bourbon. Jethro watching Jenny's eyes as she focused on the fireplace. Was she lost in memories again?

A log shifted in the fireplace and fell. She got up and took the poker and prodded the logs. Why was he really here? The sparks reminded Jenny of just how she was feeling on the inside. Sparks, burning embers, flames getting a bit hotter. She decided it would be wise not to add another log to the fire. Literally and figuratively.

Jethro was asking himself the same question about being here. She said she 'had to do what was best for her'. Didn't he deserve the chance to see what was best for him? When he had walked into her study, heard the song, and watched the sweet smile flicker across her unsuspecting features, he knew that tonight he had to take a chance. If she kicked him out, he could at least say that he had given it one more try. He downed his glass of bourbon. Now or never.

She felt him behind her. His hands taking the poker away from hers and placing it back on the hook next to the fireplace. He sat down on the rug in front of the fire and gently tugged, pulling her small body back and firmly against his chest.

Jenny gulped. She could barely breathe. She knew that he had to feel her heartbeat now. Her hand was still in his, his thumb running small circles on the inner part of her wrist.

"Jethro, I really don't think…" She had turned her head to protest their closeness, but was rewarded with his mouth on hers. A gentle, tentative kiss. When she didn't protest, he moved from her lips down to the exposed nape of her neck, planting small feathery kisses from her jaw line to just above her clavicle. She softly moaned, enjoying the sensation. This feels so good, she thought, I want this. I know I shouldn't, but I do. She turned in his arms and it was her turn to kiss him. Not gently, but with all of the pent up sexual frustration that she had been feeling ever since she started this job. She felt Jethro shift his body. He was now lying on the rug and she was on top of him. He ran his hands down the length of her spine, gently pulling her soft curves into his hard body. Pulling her as close as he dared. Wanting her to feel how aroused he was by the kiss and the fact that she was in his arms again. She moaned again and pushed herself closer, wanting to melt into him.

One quick twist, and Jethro rolled over. It was his turn to pin her beneath his body. Moving his mouth from her lips, down her throat, sliding his mouth over to her breast and feeling the nipple pebble as his tongue and then his teeth gently teased her through her T-shirt. Her hands fisted in his silver hair and she gently ground her hips into his. Loving the feel of his erection against the increasing hotness of her center.

"Have you ever made love on a rug in front of a fireplace?" He whispered hoarsely into her ear.

Jenny opened her eyes and saw that his were filled with a passion that she had not seen in years. Passion she never thought she would see again. At least not for her.

"Once or twice" She didn't add that it had been in Paris, with him. She knew he remembered.

"Here?" He looked at her intensely, waiting for her response.

"No. Never here."

"Would you like to?" He kissed her again, only stopping long enough to let them both get some air and ease the dizziness. If she says no, I'm dying right here on this damn rug.

"With you? Yes. Make love with me, Jethro"

The answer had both of them covering each other with kisses and touches. His hand had found its way to the waistband of her PJ bottoms, sliding underneath, his fingers gently massaging the slickness between her legs.

"Jethro" She gasped his name as his fingers continued their sweet stroking, her hips bucking up to meet him.

Her hands had already loosened his belt. His button and the zipper of his jeans quickly followed. It was his turn to groan as she took him, hot, hard and ready in her hand.

"God, Jenny. We need to lose the rest of these clothes"

She grinned wickedly and was more than happy to comply. She shed her bottoms and NCIS T-shirt and helped him pull off his sweater, T-shirt, watching as he kicked off his jeans and boxers.

Finally. They gazed at each other's bodies in the soft light of the fire. The hard planes of his body had changed very little. He found that he still loved how her pale skin contrasted with her hair, and those curves that she tried to hide under stern business suits.

He gently dipped his head, and began kissing her again. Slower, this time. Relishing the scent and feel of her. She lay back on the rug, pulling him with her. She wrapped her legs around his lower body and pulled him closer. He hesitated, causing her eyes to lock with his. She read the question in his eyes, and answered him by lifting her hips up to his. With a deep sigh, he entered her slowly. Withdrawing, just to tease her, and then thrusting hard into her eager body. They began to move together. The tempo picking up speed as both were lost in the ecstasy of being together.

"Jethro! Oh, God.. please…" she was moaning as he moved within her—hard and fast. Taking them both to the edge of reason, and falling headfirst downhill together.

They lay intertwined for a few minutes afterwards. The sound of their breathing slowly returning to normal mixed with the crackle of the fire. The reflection of the flames that danced off of their bodies. Jethro rolled over on his back and pulled Jenny to him. Her head rested on his chest and she listened to his heart. No words were needed. Just this. The embers of the fire caught in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

Her shoulder shivered and Jethro shifted onto his side, pulling her close.

"Cold, Jen?"

"A little" She smiled up at him and traced the outline of his firm mouth with a manicured fingertip. He grinned at her. The genuine smile that she loved and so seldom saw.

"I suppose you're pleased with yourself?" she teased.

"Only more than a lot" He kissed her softly. The log moved in the fireplace again, leaving sparks and the glow from the last dying piece of wood. The room was much darker now. Somehow, it made the next question easier for him to ask.

"Jenny, are we okay with this? Are you sorry that I stopped by?"

She thought for a moment. Am I sorry? "No" she whispered, then added "although I guess I should be" she said. She put her hand on his shoulder to stop him from pulling away. "I'm not sorry for this. I've wanted this—us again—for a long time"

"Me, too." He began putting butterfly kisses along her cooling skin.

"Jethro?"

"Huh?"

"Do you think we could take this someplace warmer?" She shivered.

"I could always restart the fire" he offered.

"I have a fireplace upstairs in my bedroom" she suggested, "Not that I'm asking you to stay …" she trailed off. Admitting that she needed anyone was never easy for her.

"Now that'll be the day" he drawled, using his best John Wayne imitation.

"Haven't I heard that line before?"

"Yes," he whispered, "in Paris".

Three days later

"Hey, Probie!" Tony whispered loudly to McGee. Tim sat at his desk, typing, and trying his best to ignore the senior field agent. "McGee! Hey! A little help here!"

Tim looked up and shook his head. Tony was standing by Gibbs desk staring at a glossy black package that had been delivered moments earlier via courier. "Tony," he warned, "Not a good idea. If the Boss catches you with that package, he'll kill you."

"Did they teach you that at M-I-T, McObvious?" Tony hissed. Tony glanced nervously around the bullpen, quickly picked up the box, and shook it. No noise. He quickly put it back down and walked over to Ziva's desk. The Israeli rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"No, Tony. I am agreeing with McGee on this. The package is addressed to Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. I think we should let sleeping cats be"

"It's 'sleeping dogs lie' Zee-vah! And I disagree. What if it contains body parts? It could be like the box in the movie "Seven". Brad Pitt. Total shock when he looks in the box! Or what if it is a box full of the plague? I got an envelope full of the plague once. Tell her, Probie!"

McGee sighed and looked at Tony. "That envelope was from a disgruntled woman, Tony"

"And your point would be?"

"Gibbs is not the type to get a nicely wrapped package from a disgruntled woman."

"Point taken. But the man does have three ex-wives! What if it's like an anniversary reminder from hell?

"Tony, you are so…"

"What's from hell?" Abby came bouncing into the bullpen from her lab. Third Caf-Pow of the morning if her current state was any indication.

Tony smiled. At last someone he could count on to be as curious as he was. "Gibbs, Abs"

"Gibbs is not from hell, Tony! He only uses his powers for good"

"Not him, Abby!" He pointed to the box on Gibbs desk. "That package".

Abby eyed the glossy black box and slowly smiled, "Oh, I see. The black box. Although I think it's stupid 'cause it's like my favorite color, but most people associate black with thoughts of hell and death. You know the Lord of the underworld, dark, creepy, and.."

"Abby!" all three of the team hissed at her.

"Okay, I digress. Looks like my silver haired fox has been holding out on me. I wonder who it's from?" She grinned mischievously at Tony.

"I can't tell. McGee and the hired killer here" he nodded his head towards Ziva, "are too chicken to help me find out!"

"Tony, I told you that there is no way that I'm going to open the box and look for a card or a clue as to who sent it!"

"All we really need to know is which courier delivered it. Then, we," Abby directed her comment towards McGee, "can hack into their server and see what's inside and who sent it. Satisfaction guaranteed in less than five minutes." She pouted at Tim. "C'mon, Timmy. It could be fun!"

"I can think of a lot of words to describe it if Gibbs found out, and 'fun' isn't on the list"

"Be a man, McWimpy! I promise I won't tell the Boss if" Tony suddenly felt a slap to the back of his head.

"Won't tell me what, DiNozzo?' Gibbs walked into the bullpen, having to balance two cups of coffee in one hand in order to free up a hand for the well delivered head slap.

"That the Probie was wondering about the obviously private and personal, none of our business package on your desk, Boss" Tony answered, rubbing the back of his head. Ziva chuckled.

Gibbs put down the coffee cups and looked at the package on his desk. Who in the hell would send him a shiny black box?

"Abs?" He sent her a questioning stare.

"Nothing. Not me, Gibbs. Just because it's black doesn't mean that I sent it! I was just coming up to get McGee to help with something down in my lab. Don't have any clues for you" She practically dragged Tim from around his desk and back down the hall towards the elevator.

"Ex-anniversary present, Boss?" Tony grinned. Time for the mystery to be over!

"DiNozzo!"

"Sorry. Keeping my vivid imagination to myself now" Tony lowered his head and began to type on his computer while continuing to sneak glances at the box.

Gibbs pulled his knife from his pocket and cut through the packing tape that sealed the box. He carefully lifted the lid and peeked inside. Both Tony and Ziva were blatantly staring now. Eyebrows lifted towards Gibbs and then each other in question.

Jethro carefully closed the lid on the box. I knew I was going to regret that, he smiled. Looking up at Tony and Ziva, he quickly scowled and put the box under his desk. "If you two don't have anything to do, I can find you something"

"No, Gibbs" Ziva said quickly, "typing a report now" She peered around her computer monitor and smirked at Tony when Gibbs picked up both cups of coffee and starting climbing the stairs towards MTAC.

"So what do you think is in there?" He answered the ringing telephone on his desk, "Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo" His eyes widened, "Really? That's good work, Probie—for Abby, not you! Keep looking" He hung up and sat back in his chair with a satisfied smile on his face.

"What Tony? You must tell me."

"Well, Zee-vah! You're the spy. You should figure it out on your own"

"I am also the one who can kill you with a paperclip"

"Okay. All we know so far is 'Black Jack India Tools"

"I thought you said Black Jack was one of your American card games"

"It is. This company evidently makes high end stuff for carpenters. A new hand tool for his boat would make the Boss smile."

Ziva thought for a moment, glanced in the direction of MTAC, then a smile quickly came and left her face.

"What?" Tony asked.

"I was just thinking about things to put a smile on Gibbs face" Ziva replied carefully, "Tools are not the only thing that could make a man smile, yes?"

MTAC was lit only by the small side screen and the lights from the control panel. Soft voices calling instructions and answering questions in the darkness. Jethro sat down and waited.

"Something I can do for you this morning, Special Agent Gibbs?" Director Jenny Shepard turned to look at the man seated next to her.

"No, Director. Just thought you could use a refill" He handed her the extra cup of coffee.

Jenny smiled as their fingers touched when she took the coffee cup. She did need a refill. She hadn't gotten much sleep this weekend. Of course, the man next to her was the reason why. And she couldn't have been happier. From the look on his face, he was feeling pretty good about something, too.

"Thank you, Agent Gibbs. Anything, else?"

"Yeah. Got a package on my desk this morning. Know anything about that?"

"I take it I got upgraded to next day delivery?"

"Something like that." He leaned closer and whispered, "I'm not doing it, Jen."

"But you promised!"

"Not happening."

It was Jenny's turn to lean in and whisper something discreetly in his ear. He swallowed hard, and if the lighting had been better she would swear that he actually blushed before giving her his infamous Gibbs stare. It took a lot to make Jethro blush.

"You know that look doesn't work on me. I'm not an agent."

"No, but you definitely are something" he growled.

"And what would that be?" she asked innocently.

"Oh, I think you know, Director. You have a dictionary." He stood up and left the darkness of MTAC with a smile on his face

He knew this was probably going to top his list of the 'Dumbest Things Done by DiNozzo', but he was dying here. He had to know. Ziva had refused to say any more, and disappeared muttering something about raiding the snack machine. Tony dropped down beside her desk, and on hands and knees, pulled the black box close enough to open. He lifted the top, peeked in, and—

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs voice barked.

Tony's head jerked up and hit the bottom of Gibbs desk. "Oh, crap!" he moaned, holding his head and feeling the warm, stickiness as blood started to flow from his scalp. He crawled out and stood up slowly next to Ziva's desk, lightheaded from the shock, pain, blood, and surprise at what he had seen in the box. "Hey, Boss. Lost my pen. The top off of my favorite pen. Ziva stole it, and I was just looking for it"

Gibbs stare was enough to shut Tony up. He pulled a bloody hand from the back of his head, grimaced and gently placed it back over the bleeding area. "Take a rain check on the head slap, Boss."

"DiNozzo, what have you done?" Gibbs turned his agent around, removed the younger man's hand from the back of his head, and then firmly pushed Tony's hand back in place. "Ducky. Now. Have him stitch that up. And stop lookin' in my box!"

"Right away, Boss. Uh, thank you, Boss." Tony hurried towards autopsy. He waited until he was around the corner, then—in spite of the pain—he started smiling. A tool belt! Who in the world would buy Gibbs a tool belt?