Disclaimer: Not mine, or else this would have actually happened and the show might have to switch stations.

Gibbs was still furious three weeks later. That probably had something to do with the fact that he hadn't seen her outside the office since the flight back from L.A., and he wasn't about to start the argument with her in a public place. The only other people who knew what had happened were McGee and Abby, and both of them knew better than to say anything. As he drove through Georgetown that night, his mind drifted back to the events following Will Decker's funeral.

He couldn't figure out how the hell she'd done it. She'd managed to slip away from him, and it pissed him off. McGee looked worried, but clearly waiting for Gibbs' orders before he did anything.

"Call Abby and have her trace the Director's phone."

"Right, boss," McGee said, doing as he was told.

Gibbs could hear Abby's voice over the line, shooting rapid-fire questions at McGee even as she did as he asked. She gave him the location – or she better have, because McGee hung up.

"Boss, she's headed for some diner out in the middle of nowhere. Abby texted the coordinates right to your phone."

"McGee?!" He said, holding up his phone impatiently. McGee took the phone and opened the text from Abby before giving it back to Gibbs. He didn't even glance at it before taking the car and speeding off.

She was sitting on the counter when he got there. "Jen, what the hell is going on?"

"Why did you follow me?"

He opened his mouth to say something else when he heard the sound of a car pulling up. He'd already noticed that she had her gun out, so he took his out and moved away from the door, ready for the intrusion…

They'd both survived, and neither of them had been injured. But he'd recognized the woman who came in last, the one who nearly had killed Jenny, but he'd shot her at the same time, and her bullet had gone astray. Svetlana, the woman Jenny had supposedly killed in Moscow six months before Paris. Apparently she'd lied to him about that. But while he could have accepted that, he couldn't forget that she'd gone off on her own when she'd known the woman was gunning for her. He had brought that up and she'd pointed out that he was next on the hit list, and she'd wanted to end things before it came to him.

"I wanted to end it before she went after you. It was my fault, after all."

"Without backup?"

"I would have been fine."

"Rule number one, Jen."

"We're not partners anymore."

And that had been the last thing she'd said to him in three weeks except for a handful of work-related comments. It was getting ridiculous. So that was why he pulled up in front of her townhouse, wishing he couldn't remember all the other times he'd been here. Most of those memories were good, though a few weren't. Like the night the Frog had stopped by. And that was something else he'd be asking her about.

He knew where she kept the spare key, so he simply let himself in. As he'd suspected, she was in her study, looking over case files. She looked at him over the frames of her glasses when he walked in, her eyes narrowed angrily.

"How the hell did you get in?" she snapped.

"Spare key," he said nonchalantly. She scowled but said nothing, choosing instead to return to her paperwork. He glared at her, even though she couldn't see it before walking over and tugging the papers from her hands.

"Jethro, what – ?"

"We need to talk."

She sighed. "About?"

"Oh, I don't know," he said sarcastically. "Maybe the fact that a woman you were supposed to kill over nine years ago showed up in L.A. and tried to take us both out? And while you're at it, you could explain why your gun matched up to the one that killed the Frog."

"I don't owe you an explanation for anything," she snarled, standing up so fast that she knocked over her chair.

"Like hell you don't. It was my ass on the line too in L.A., Jenny."

"It wouldn't have been if you'd just stayed away!"

"And what if she'd killed you?"

"You'd just have to learn how to handle a new administration."

"Since when are you so damn careless with your life?"

"Why do you care?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind. And what do you want to know about Grenouille?"

"I thought you didn't owe me an explanation."

"You're just going to keep nagging me."

"Kort didn't kill him." It was a statement, not a question.

"No, but it works out better for all concerned if the world thinks he did. Even him; means he got to take over and not lose the CIA's foothold in the arms dealing business."

"Why did you do it, Jenny?"

"Why did you want to kill Ari? Why did you kill that Mexican drug lord?"

"How did you know about that?"

"Does it matter?"

"You don't even know if he really did kill your father!" He chose to ignore her question; he wasn't going to bother denying it, and he sure as hell didn't want to talk about it.

"And you didn't really know Ari was guilty! Why are you the only one allowed to have gut feelings? I know it was him and I don't need any more proof than what I have."

He glared at her and she glared right back. "You're the Director, that's why. I'm known for stupid stunts; you're supposed to be more responsible than that! You're supposed to know better."

"Are you questioning my judgment, Agent Gibbs?"

"Yeah, I am! First you send DiNozzo undercover and don't even notice he's in over his head – "

"I asked him if there was a problem, and he said no! Excuse me for trusting him!"

"Of course he would say that! Have you ever seen him admit to screwing up? And that's not even the half of it! Staring at pictures in the dark, giving your gun to a man who asked for protection, someone who could have been useful, except for your little vendetta, not to mention this latest stunt. Tell me something, Jen do you have a death wish?"

"Hardly, and what would you care if I did? Afraid a new Director wouldn't let you get away with half the shit you pull now?"

"Hah! Trying to say you easy on me, Madame Director?"

"Easier than most would; how many people do you think would have taken you back after your little vacation in Mexico?"

"So, what, that's just supposed to excuse everything else? Damn it, Jen, what the hell happened to you? You could be dead right now if I hadn't had McGee and Abby trace you, don't you know what that would have done to me?" He hadn't meant to say it, but something about her asking why he'd care if she were gone made him have to respond.

Jenny stared at him, shock rendering her unable to speak. But she had to give him some sort of reaction, and she knew she had a few options. She considered it for only a second, before choosing the one that probably went against her better judgment, but still seemed like the best answer.

She crossed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. He didn't respond at first and she began to draw back, thinking she'd made a huge mistake, but before she could move more than an inch away, his arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her flush against him, their mouths crashing together again.

Her hand went around the back of his neck even as he removed the clip in her hair, and tossed it away his hands tangling in the red strands. His tongue slid into her mouth, tasting the hints of bourbon and mocha coffee, while she found herself lost in the scent of sawdust that always clung to him.

When they finally had to pull back or risk passing out from lack of oxygen, he still kept his arm around her waist, staring at her from inches away. He seemed unable to think of anything to say, a situation so uncommon that Jenny had to swallow a laugh. She wasn't sure what was going to happen now – they'd had too much happen between them for one kiss (or even a round of make-up sex, though she wouldn't say no to that) to fix, but it was a good start. Maybe it had been a good judgment call after all.

A/N: Hope you liked it! If you did, review!