And All my Dreams Torn Asunder by DD Agent
I do not own NCIS or any of its characters, or its settings - all belongs to the lovely folks at CBS. The speech at the beginning and the title is taken from JMS and Babylon 5. I own nothing
This fic started as a small seed when in someone's authors notes they claimed that Jenny was supposed to get fired rather than die *coughs*fake her death in a California diner*coughs*. So i wanted to write a fic where she actually got fired. Then ncis1000words had a Reverse Fandom challenge about Babylon 5 and it seemed to fit. Well it went a little over the 1000 words and slightly more awesome, so here we have it!
[I've also now sorted out the '97 Series in my head, so hopefully expect more of that soon]
As always, enjoy! :D
"I've had the opportunity to review the evidence that's been brought before me," she smiled, looking at SecNav and Leon Vance with her poker face on. She wouldn't let them see the emotion they were causing in her. "At first, I was offended, angry. Then I did the only thing that I could do." She tore up the report on the Benoit shooting, amused at the shocked faces in front of her. "This is a joke. Cruel, yes. Insulting and destructive, of course. But a joke nonetheless."
Her words hadn't saved her. The CIA wanted someone thrown to the wolves, and it was her corpse NCIS was tossing. SecNav had ordered her resignation - she would be given solid recommendations and a good story would be leaked to the press. But the job she had ruined her life to get was no longer hers. Leon Vance would hold her chair, would yell at Jethro, would go visit Abby.
He handed her the photograph of her father as she walked out of what was now his office.
Word had got round quickly about the Benoit shooting; and that Jenny Shepard, their Director, was resigning over it in order to keep her and NCIS' reputation intact. But Leroy Jethro Gibbs knew better, knew that she had shot and killed Benoit and SecNav was taking her job because she had lost control.
He caught sight of her walking down the stairs, carrying the picture of her father as she headed to the elevators. Ignoring the looks of his co-workers, he moved like a gazelle from his chair and stalked her path, ending up using his foot to block the elevator door as it tried to close on him. Jethro pushed the doors open and felt his face fall at the sight of Jenny Shepard trying hard to hold in her tears.
"Special Agent Gibbs, get the next elevator."
The doors closed behind them. He reached over and shut off the switch, jolting the lights and them both as every mechanism halted. She looked up at him with those green eyes he had seen so bright, and were now dull with the memories of so many mistakes.
"You're not my boss anymore. You can't order me to do anything."
She slapped him. The sound echoed in the rocking box, and like the elevator their relationship was hanging by a tiny thread. He knew it was the wrong thing to say, but he wanted to push her. He needed to stop her falling apart - she was on the verge and he couldn't bear to see her lose herself in despair.
"Turn on the switch. Get off the elevator. I don't need to hear you gloat, Jethro. You got what you wanted: your team is safe and the Wicked Witch is gone."
He didn't feel like gloating. But he had to admit that he was glad Jenny was no longer Director. The job was doing her no favours, there were times he couldn't even recognise the beautiful Special Agent he had worked with all those years ago. "You overstepped the mark, Jen. You're lucky you're not facing criminal charges for what you did."
She snorted, and met his gaze. She pushed right against him, her hands low on his hips. They hadn't been this close since Carson had come to visit, and before then he couldn't even remember. He could see the creamy skin visible next to the collar of her shirt. Could almost hear her pulse in the small tin box.
"I'm sorry, Jethro. I guess I forgot that you don't make mistakes, it's just me. Leaving you in Paris, telling you no off the job when I got here. Shooting the man that murdered my father." She lifted herself up on her heels to whisper in his ear. Her neck was right under his mouth. "After you were in a coma I looked into a few things. I checked with the Mexican authorities. The man who killed Kelly and Shannon, Pedro Hernandez, was murdered in ninety one. Looks like a sniper shot."
Jenny shoved him back against the doors of the elevator. Her face was curled in a snarl, but her eyes were already dripping tears.
"I learned from the best how to fuck up everything around me so don't you fucking judge me, Jethro."
Without a word, he switched on the elevator and exited. He let her go down alone, but heard later from Security that it had taken her thirty minutes to exit the building. He hoped he was the only one that could hear her tears from his desk.
She had nowhere to go so she was packing a small bag. Her firing was effective immediately, and she decided to get the hell out of DC. In times of trouble she had always run to her father. She couldn't do that anymore, couldn't even go to his grave; so she was running to her mother. She would spend a couple of weeks with her mother and her sister, before heading back and trying to salvage her life. The still burning pieces of it.
Jenny heard a noise downstairs, and waved it off as Noemi leaving. Packing a few more items, Jenny realised that she hadn't been there when Jenny had come home. Pulling out her new gun, having lost the two she had previously owned recently, Jenny headed downstairs. The SIG felt good in her hand, she had always favoured it. Of course it reminded her of standard NCIS issue, the thought sticking in the back of her throat.
"Federal Agent, hands where I can see them!"
She should have known it would be Jethro, sitting in her chair and drinking out of one of her bottles of bourbon. It had been a couple of hours since she had slapped him in the elevator, and yet the anger hadn't dissipated yet. It would probably take a while and a few bottles of bourbon before she got over the loathing she saw in his eyes.
He put a box on her desk. "Vance wanted me to give you your belongings. Some bourbon, your badge, couple of pens."
He smirked, and Jenny tried to resist the urge to slap him again. But ultimately she couldn't, and she threw the gun down on her sofa and stormed round to his side of her desk. She reached for his collar to drag him to his feet. Instead, Jethro wrenched his hand around her neck and thrust her mouth down onto his.
It still felt good to kiss him. He smelled like sawdust, like the drawers of her father's old desk. He tasted like the bourbon he had been drinking. She pushed back into his mouth, her tongue forcing it open. His hands left fingerprint bruises on her hips as he gripped her close to his erection. Her hands dug into his shoulders, leaving fingernail marks in his shirt and skin as she tried to force him closer to her. Her mouth left hers and he bit her neck, wanting to taste the skin he had been so drawn to earlier.
"You're a bastard," she hissed against his own neck as her tongue licked the length of it, toying with his pulse point and dipping down into his collar bone.
He was working on leaving her a hickey, his hands moving her up and down his lap. "You need this." He growled as they faced each other, her eyes finally showing the brightness he remembered. "I want this."
They kissed again, her hands moving from his shoulders to caress his face, stroke his skin. He grinned as his hands spanned her back and moved over the plains of her stomach. Her head tilted backwards so he took the opportunity to rip open the buttons of her shirt and throw it over his shoulder. She was wearing a thin little see through vest top and he caught sight of the plunge bra she wore.
"God I've missed this," Jethro hummed as his mouth went to one of her nipples, pulling it with his teeth through the thin shirt.
She groaned and dug her hands into his hair, pulling as he played with her. His hands moved over her back and down to cup her ass under her jeans. Jenny smiled and went back to unbuttoning his polo shirt, getting access to his neck. She nipped and bit along his jaw, her hands thrusting material to grip him closer.
"Quite a severance package, huh?" Jenny teased, her hand moving down to cup him through his trousers. He stopped teasing her nipples to lean his head back and moan. She pulled off her thin t-shirt, revealing her red plunge bra and swollen breasts. He grew even harder as she pushed herself off his lap and onto the study desk. She pushed the ornaments and paperwork out of her way and propped herself up, looking at him with a lust he couldn't even try to deny.
Jethro grinned. "We should have done this on yours. Little present for Leon Vance."
He pulled off both his shirts, leaving him bare-chested. He followed her onto the desk, his mouth moving over her chest and down into the valley of her breasts. Her fingernails drew blood on his back, half lust, half anger from their former conversation. But neither of them minded: both of them were too consumed with how good it felt to grab hold of each other.
"You've never been one for foreplay, Jethro," Jenny teased, before he pinned her to the desk, his hands gently squeezing the bones in her wrist. She gasped and groaned under his touch, bucking her hips.
"You have no patience, Jen." He nuzzled her neck, nipping at the revealed skin of her breasts. "I just gave up on trying to make sex last."
Their next kiss was painful, brutal. His hair was nearly ripped out of his scalp; her lips were bruised and swollen from the force of his mouth. Both their hands went to their own zippers, desperately trying to remove the last few items of clothing. Jethro shed his jeans first and then pinned Jenny's hands again, forcing her down whilst he dragged her own trousers down her legs.
"Come on, Madame Director, keep up."
She pushed him up by his jaw and kissed his mouth, dragging her tongue behind his teeth. "I'm not your Director, anymore, Special Agent Gibbs." She smiled. "So off the job doesn't matter. Nothing does."
"What about Paris?"
Their rough and tumble charade ended for a moment as he saw the walls crumble a little behind her eyes. She nuzzled his neck softly, using her lips to sooth the nail wounds there. "Paris always matters."
Her panties were gone in a matter of seconds. His boxers were whipped down his legs and he was over her before she could get accustomed to the cold air in her study and her very desirable lack of clothes. Jethro's mouth was once more between her breasts, his hands gripping hers so tight she was sure they were going to break. He was inside her without any finesse, and he began thrusting - making her groan with how he filled her.
The desk had been given new life, and as Jenny's heels dug into his ass, urging him to thrust harder, she smiled. Her day had been her worst for some time, but this was the perfect way to end it. She broke from his grip and buried her hands in his hair, tearing his mouth away from her aching nipples and up to her lips. He continued to push inside her, dragging out all her nerves.
They both grew close. Jenny leaned her head back, Jethro's mouth marking her skin as his own. She screamed his name as she came.
Jethro had gone. They'd kissed on her doorstep, their clothes hanging loosely over their bodies as he walked to his car. They would ache and burn and hurt for days, but Jenny couldn't think of a better time they had had together. Apart from Marseille, their first time together. Now that had been a night.
Currently she was wrapped in a towel, standing in front of the mirror. She had a collection of bruises leading from her neck down to her breasts. Her lips were swollen, and her tongue was sore too. She had bruises over her hips and thighs. But she had the biggest smile on her face, a smile she hadn't painted on for several years.
Jenny rootled around in her wardrobe until she found the item she wanted - a summer dress that she hadn't worn since Paris. It showed off her injuries quite nicely, and she couldn't deny that for someone whose world had crashed around her not that long ago, she was happy, happier than she should be.
It could be due to the dinner date she had with Jethro the following night.
She sang an out of date pop song as she headed downstairs and went into her kitchen for a cold glass of water. And for the second time that day, there was someone else in her house that wasn't supposed to be.
This time, she would have no trouble pulling the trigger.
The British CIA agent didn't look fazed by the gun thrust into his face. He just smiled. "I'm sorry you lost your job, Ms Shepard. Honestly, I am. All of us at the CIA were hoping you'd get fired earlier on in the investigation into Benoit, now it just seems pointless."
She snorted. "Thanks for the condolences, Kort. Now get out."
He smirked again and pulled a file out of his bag. He pushed it across the oak kitchen table at her, grinning all the while. Jenny put one hand on the top of it, noticing no case number or title. Opening it up, she found a letter from the President and a sheaf of forms. Application forms.
"The current Director of the CIA met a sticky end recently. For a man whose speciality was getting inside terrorist groups, getting killed by his wife for having an affair was not the best moment of his career. So there's now an opening at Langley. President and the Senate have already approved it. That's if you're interested, of course."
Jenny knew she should tell Kort to stuff it. That she would never work for the Agency; that she wouldn't even know how. All her work had been building up to being the Director of NCIS - although Jenny realised that was a lie. She had wanted to find her father's murderer, and she had. That book of her life was concluded. Maybe it was now time to start a new one.
Kort stood up, and then handed her another piece of paper. It was a statement announcing her departure from NCIS and her new start as CIA Director.
"Think about it. You'd be an asset - you can play well with the other agencies, and you know dirty ops like the back of your hand. Speak two languages bilingually, have a good policy for keeping secrets." Kort smirked. "And it would certainly annoy SecNav and Director Vance."
He packed up his belongings and headed for her back door. The paperwork was still left on her kitchen table.
"We're also only in Virginia. You could still live here, and still sleep with Gibbs. Win/Win from where I'm sitting, Director."
Her back door slammed shut. And another one opened.
"….wanted a new challenge. Jennifer Shepard will now take on the role of Director of the CIA, and she hopes to bring the same sense of inter agency cooperation and patriotism she brought to NCIS."
Tony was frowning at the television. McGee was looking at it like it might bite him. Ziva was trying hard not to smile. Above them, in the new Director's office, they heard something break. Jethro just sat there and laughed, the bruises and bite marks from the previous day tingling.
He knew Jenny wouldn't break down; she was too good for that. She was still playing the game. This time, though, they would tackle the other players together.