A/N: This was inspired by the song Don't Hurt The Ones You Love by Tose Proeski, a Macedonian pop singer who died in a car accident in 2007. No idea why the formatting of this one has gone all funky! Sorry.

Summary: Jibbs. Set one year after Judgement Day. Edited repost from an old oneshot series.

The sun was just beginning to filter through the gaps in the blinds highlighting the dust particles that hung lazily in the air. He lay on his side his hand propping up his upper half, a crisp white sheet draped across the lower half of his body leaving his top half exposed. His eyes trailed over her body. Her back was facing him. Although the sheets were wrapped around her smooth milky skin he could still see the hollow down her back that followed her spine and the spattering of freckles that crossed her shoulders, obscured slightly by the waves of soft natural curls of golden red hair that fell around her shoulders and fanned out across the pillow, glimmering in the increasing sunlight that was seeping into the room. "Don't you have anything better to do than watch me sleep?" she drawled in an amused and sleepy voice. He could picture the smirk on her face and the sparkle in her eyes.

She rolled to face him drawing the sheets with her.

"Morning," she smiled easily.

"Coffee" he muttered pulling his eyes away from her, ignoring the dip between her breasts that was just visible above the sheet, refusing to allow his eyes to focus on her lips, soft and smooth and kiss bruised from a night of passion. He leaned out of bed fishing amongst the pile of clothes that lay forgotten on the floor before finally grabbing up his boxers and pulling them underneath the cover of the sheets.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before Jethro" she teased, her emerald eyes playful her voice teasing and suggestive.

He glared at her whilst he slipped his boxers over his hips beneath the sheets and shrugged them away before getting out of bed, stretching out his limbs; he felt a rush of blood around his body and a light stretch on his muscles.

He pulled more clothes from the heap that lay on the floor ignoring her steady gaze, looking up only when he heard the rustle of sheets as she pushed herself up to sit and lean against the headboard, the sheet wrapped tightly around her. His eyes bore into hers, and to her credit she refused to look away or blink, they were captured in a moment in time where neither one wanted to be the first to move or look away, to stop reliving the memories of the previous night. Gibbs broke the spell that had encased them as he pinched his sweater from the ground and pulled it over his head.

If he was startled at her presence before him once the fabric had slid over his head and down his chest he didn't show it. The sheet was crumpled now and wrapped around her in a type of make shift toga, he looked her up and down as if he were sizing her up for a fight, but his gaze lasted just a little longer than necessary and he watched a slow grin spread across her face.

"Something you want, Shepard?"

She reached across and tugged at his sweater, pulling him in towards her. As she did so the sheet, that had evidently been held in place by her hand, slipped away revealing her slim body to him, pale skin flushed with the lightest pink. His eyes widened as she took a step closer into him, sharing his breathing space and invading his senses, her lips brushing against his cheek, her breath tickling his ear as she whispered "You know what I want…Boss" before closing the gap between them covering her lips over his, forcing him to surrender himself to her.

He closed his eyes against the memories. That first time, and every other time after it. He sat on the cold hard concrete floor of his basement, leaning against the rib of his boat, nursing a glass of bourbon. His eyes traversed the room, the single light bulb casting shadows across the room, hiding some things in darkness whilst others were spotlighted by the harsh light from the bulb. His tools were scattered around the workbenches, not far flung from the empty toolboxes that lay open surrounded by mugs and jars filled with nuts and bolts. The tape recorder was pushed against the wall gathering dust, the tape that it held from time to time, safely stowed away in a drawer along with his other memories of a past life. Next to it sat an old cell phone drowning in a cold cup of coffee.

It had been a year since her death. So many things had changed since then it was hard to believe that it really had only been a year. In the aftermath of her death and the mess she'd left behind her it had been hard to forget about her and move on, hard to grieve for her when he couldn't find it in himself to quite forgive her actions. As the time had passed, it hadn't become any easier, she was always there lingering in the back of his mind, he understood that she always would be, like Shannon and Kelly. He had tried to set aside the time to grieve properly to allow himself the comfort of saying a proper goodbye but the present had become a more pressing matter and he knew from past experiences that life wouldn't stop just for him. Now one year on, his pent up emotions had found an outlet and he allowed himself to grieve for her, to feel everything he knew he should, to relive the good times and try to forgive the bad.

He hadn't realized how strong a hold she had had over him, right up until the very end, even now she still help a piece of him even after everything she had done. He suspected that he had never stopped loving her. Although he couldn't quite remember the exact point in time he had actually fallen in love with her, the change had been so gradual that it had just crept up on him. She had never asked him to change for her, had never tried to fix him or turn him into someone that he could never be. She had understood him, even without knowing all the facts, she'd accepted that he'd had a life before her but that it was in the past and that nothing she could ever say or do would change it or make it any less important.

He had never said the words to her, never felt he had to, they were so in sync that he just knew she knew. She knew it from the little things he did and she never asked for a verbal confirmation of his feelings. They shared something that was beyond explanation, she was haunted by ghosts from her past just like him and together their two broken souls seemed to match perfectly. And maybe that was why having loved her and knowing that she had loved him it had been so difficult to accept that she'd hurt him. Twice.

He swirled the amber liquid that was cupped between both hands, his gaze lost at the bottom of the glass as another flood of memories swept through him.

The night was still dark beyond the shutters but the sun was just beginning to creep up on the horizon creating a dull glow in the world outside their room. The beginnings of another day had started on the streets outside, the faint noises carrying through the air rousing him from his sleep.

He rolled over in search of her warm body but found the space she'd once occupied empty and cold. His eyes penetrated through the almost darkness and scanned the room for her. He closed his eyes briefly and forced down the sudden and fleeting disappointment and hurt that had welled up inside of him. Her scent lingered in the air around him and he imagined her there with him, he felt her slim fingers tracing mindless patterns over his skin, felt her hot breath against his back raising the tiny hairs there, heard the steady sound of her breathing. He rolled over onto his side, glancing at the little digits of the clock, glowing luminously and looking slightly blurred. He let out a slow sigh as he climbed out of bed dragging the sheets with him against the cool chill of the early morning air, already and reluctantly knowing that she was long gone.

He'd been surprised to find that losing her had hurt almost as much as losing his family had, had been surprised to find that somehow she'd gotten under his skin, had taken up permanent residence in his mind and stolen a piece of his heart. He knew that nobody could ever or would ever replace Shannon but without knowing it Jen had come in pretty damn close and it felt like his life had been stolen from him a second time. Nothing left but memories, a coat and a Dear John.

He smiled wistfully to himself, he'd never have imagined then that less than a decade later she'd re-enter his life, a whirlwind of power, passion and aged beauty, although given these qualities it should had have hardly surprised him. He had always known that she'd had drive that one day she'd become a somebody, a force to be reckoned with. She had shown a rare enthusiasm, had been eager to learn, keen to be the best, had strived on competition and held an unrelenting pride and respect for her country.

The scent of bourbon rose to his nostrils and he smiled, a flickering ghost of a smile that graced his lips only momentarily, as he remembered the first time she'd shared his drink of choice. He downed the amber liquid and revelled in the burning sensation that spread down his oesophagus. The sharp pain bringing memories of the day she had resumed a place in his life. Once again becoming a key character in his story, a regular fixture of his life.

"Special Agent Gibbs!" he turned and made his way back up the stairs grudgingly admitting that this role suited her, the commanding tone of her voice, one which demanded respect and oozed with authority. "On the job, it is Director Shepard or ma'am"

"OK, what about off the job?" he played it off with a hint of amusement in his voice, and tried to keep his eyes from betraying him.

"There won't be any 'off the job' Agent Gibbs."

"That's too bad... I missed you Jen." He was surprised at his open admission even though his voice with laced with jest and he watched a flicker in her eyes of something that could be mistaken for hesitation in response and in that heartbeat his mind unwittingly transported him back in time and visions of her coming undone beneath him filled his brain, she sensed the slight change in his demeanour.

"Don't make this difficult Jethro."

"Fair enough. Won't happen again. Director" The word tasted sour in his mouth, but she'd hurt him once and it'd been a hard fact for him to accept and he wouldn't allow it to happen a second time.

"We can continue this conversation in private."

In privacy though, he felt awkward looking at her, accepting her as Director of the agency, his new boss. As she sat in her office, which was impressively furnished opening out onto a magnificent view and which felt disconcertingly like it already belonged to her, he matched her stare for intensity despite his mind being a whirlwind of emotions while the memories came flooding back and ripped open old wounds.

He had been willing then to forgive her, give her that coveted second chance, an opportunity to start over again. He knew on some subconscious level that he'd never been happy since she'd left and before her he'd not been happy since the deaths of Shannon and Kelly and in his mind that had to count for something. He had watched as a spectrum of emotions had graced her features before she'd turned around to face the window effectively ending something that had never really begun again.

There had been a tension between them those first few weeks that had dissolved gradually until they had fit into a comfortable pattern. He simply ignored his feelings for her and threw himself deeper and further into his work, in the back of his mind he was vaguely aware that she was doing the same, knowing that she would not risk everything she had worked so hard to achieve for him, a man who could never give her everything she deserved.

He picked up the bottle that stood by his side and poured a healthy measure into his glass. His mind glossed over the bombing, his subsequent amnesia and his sudden departure from NCIS, when he'd been the one to walk away from her. It seemed like a lifetime ago, and in a way it was, she certainly had been a different person before then. At the time he hadn't thought about her feelings, how it was all affecting her, he was too caught up in reliving his past, hating himself for his failures. It was only much later when he thought back on it that he realized ignoring her then and missing an opportunity with her had been another failure. It had been the first time she'd let her guard down and opened up to the possibility for there to be something more for them and he'd swept it away. He hadn't cared that she had been there when he had woken, hadn't bothered to see the pain and want in her eyes, and hadn't considered that his pain and suffering might have been almost as hard for her to bear as it was for him. He didn't consider how the revelation of a first marriage, a murdered wife and daughter would effect her, how it might haunt her, because why should it, and why should he?

He released a long sigh his memories slipping a few months ahead in time. When he'd returned from Mexico he had noted the subtle changes in her behaviour, the way she'd slowly become more erratic and dangerous in her actions. It had been the start of that downward spiral to self destruction. He still believed to this day that despite her wrongdoings toward the end of her life she had still held that respect for her country and for her position of power within it. It was just that her hunger for the truth and her desire for retribution had superseded that patriotism. Jen had been far from perfect and as she had travelled that path of vengeance she had lost some of her passion for the job and her love for her people. He had understood that need for revenge, but Jen had become almost selfish, a liability, she'd put others at risk and used her position of power to further her own personal vendetta. He knew she'd never intended to hurt anyone, would never have survived the guilt if it had been Tony blown up in his car, she hadn't meant to hurt him either, but she had, over and over again throughout the whole La Grenoiulle saga. It had hurt him to see her consumed with guilt but still unable to lay down to rest her quest for revenge.

He looked around his basement his bones chilled through, his body surrounded by darkness and his mind consumed by her and he thought how sad it was that you always hurt the people you loved. He wondered if it was because you expected them to forgive you because they loved you. He mulled over the idea and recalled the last night he'd seen her alive. He knew it had been a reaffirmation of her love for him and he wondered if she had hoped that it would catapult him into forgiveness when she walked into her own suicide mission.

After three years it certainly wasn't what he had expected when he'd arrived at her doorstep bearing gifts of Chinese take out and a bottle of wine. He wondered again if part of her knew what was to transpire in LA, if this had been her final goodbye...

He wasn't sure quite how they'd reached this point, through all the secrets and after all the lies. He was angry at her, he had wanted to shout and scream and make her sorry for everything she'd done, but the look in her eyes had stopped him because despite it all nothing had changed, not in the grand scheme of things, they were still the same people they had once been and maybe it was this thought that had caused him to find himself tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and lowering his lips to hers. After so many years it still felt the same as it had done that first time, it sent a bolting shock of electricity through his person and his body tingled in want and in anticipation. It made him feel alive and it made him forget the darkness that had surrounded them the past few months.

He drew her in close to him, sliding a hand round her waist, coaxing open her lips although she needed little encouragement. He felt her respond as she gave into the feelings she had been suppressing since she'd waltzed back into his life a few years ago. She tugged at his sweater the same way she had all those years ago, pulling herself in even closer to him. He pinned her against the wall and hitched her up around his waist, she wrapped one leg around him and wriggled against him, repositioning herself and he couldn't hold back the groan that escaped his lips as she brushed against his groin. He felt her scramble at his shirt until she finally succeeded in tugging it off. She pressed a gentle kiss at the juncture between his neck and shoulder before looking up at him. Her piercing green eyes communicating with him, at a level that didn't necessitate words. With one hand supporting her against the wall he used the other to swiftly peel back her sweater and he kissed the hollow in her throat as her head dropped back to rest against the wall.

He trailed a line of kisses up the underside of her throat and over her chin till he met her lips. His free hand closed around the leg she still used to support herself and brought it up join the other one. Holding onto her he began the ascent of the staircase and made his way toward her bedroom. She was planting soft kisses over every piece of exposed skin she could reach and his whole body was alive with sensations. He passed through the threshold into her bedroom and lowered her carefully onto the bed straddling her before proceeding to kiss down her body from her suprasternal notch to the waistline of her pants before he circled her body, she arched into him instinctively as he unclasped her bra and discarded it. He placed a gentle kiss to the valley between her breasts before turning his attention to each nipple in turn until she was wriggling in pleasure beneath him.

He slowly unzipped her pants, smirking at her frustrated expression and the tiny moans that trickled from between her lips. He slid her pants and panties over her slender hips and threw them over the edge of the bed and kissed her inner thigh as his hands trailed languidly over her waist and hips. Ignoring her hands in his hair that urged him to the place she needed him the most.

Lost in the exploration of her body, and marvelling at how it seemed more perfect that it had ten years ago he found himself being flipped over and her dazzling eyes smirking at him from her position above him. She placed an open mouthed kiss on his chest above his heart whilst her hands worked their magic and quickly divested him of his pants and boxers. He felt her cool hands cup his heated length and he bit back a moan of pleasure. She teased him to within an inch of his control before pulling back, a mischievous smile playing across her lips.

He flipped their positions again and wasted no time in nudging her legs open and settling himself above her. He waited there a moment rubbing against her, testing her restraint, luckily it didn't hold out long as she wrapped her legs around him and raised herself up to him.

He thrust himself into her and she gasped and clung onto him, her nails leaving crescent shaped indentations in his skin. He paused for a few seconds and she pulled herself upwards and kissed him passionately and he felt like she was pouring herself into that single kiss. He began to move inside her as she met him thrust for thrust. They fell into a rhythm that quickly brought them to the edge and the closer they got the more erratic their movements became. His breathing was becoming ragged, his heart was thumping against his ribcage, he couldn't tell which sounds were coming from her and which were his own, his body was shaking in anticipation and he knew he couldn't hold off much longer. His hand snaked its way between their bodies, his fingers moving in time with their rhythm. He looked down and she nodded, gasping and wrapping her arms around him and pulling him closer towards her again, he felt her coming apart under him and he kissed her neck as she cried out against his skin her breath misting against his cheek mingling with the thin sheath of sweat that covered their bodies. He thrust deeply one final time before he entered into oblivion with her. He collapsed against her and kissed her gently, just brushing his lips against hers. They remained like that for few moments until their breathing returned to normal and the hammering of their hearts subsiding.

They had loved each other with a combination of raw emotions, of fiery tempers, sharing their broken lives and broken hearts, overcoming lives filled with secrets and lies. His body tingled as he remembered that night. If he had known then what he did now he would have ensured that every single second of it was etched into his memory. He had known she was sick; he had known it but was too afraid to admit it, because that would make it real. His feelings for her confused him, his judgement became a bit clouded when she was around, real life seemed to stop and this dream took over, he felt guilty, as if he were betraying Shannon and Kelly. He felt as though he was taking something he didn't deserve and that somebody would take her away from him. In the end someone had, and for the second time she had been the one to leave him. She had taken her life into her own hands, as she always had, she had made her decision and there would be no other way in her eyes. She had died to protect him, but whether it was to protect him from Svetlana and the mistake in her past that had finally caught up with her present or to protect him from watching her condition overtake her body as she deteriorated and the disease stole the person she was, he wasn't quite sure. Naturally he and Franks had spoken about what had happened that day, in an abstract way after a few drinks. He liked to think regardless of what she had said, that she had known that he loved her, and although he never had been able to tell her it didn't mean it hadn't been true.

As the first rays of the early morning sunlight sunk into the basement he thought about Jenny, the eager Probie, willing and ready to do anything he asked of her, with an unwavering faith and belief. Jenny, the friend and the partner, the person who he knew had his six, reliable and honest, and a damn good agent. Jenny, the lover, someone who had slowly began to mend his broken heart and fill in the gap his family had left behind; Jenny, who he knew would take a bullet for him but hadn't been able to stop herself inflicting an equal pain unknowingly onto him. Jenny, the boss, with the business only façade, with only the barest hints of something more when she let her guard down for just a second. He thought of the woman she had become a short time before her death, ravaged by the need for revenge and blind to the devastation she was causing to the people that loved her most. She had undoubtedly abused her position as Director without much reasonable or compassionate thought for those around her. The anger inside of her had gripped her body so much that it consumed the very things that made her Jenny.

As he stood up stretching out and raising the glass to his lips draining the remaining alcohol he considered the person that she had become, the mistakes that she had made, the flaws in her personality that showed her darker side he realized that he loved her regardless, that although there was no denying she had hurt him more than once she had helped to shape him into the person he had become. For better or for worse. He thought of his team and the unconditional faith they had him, the way they instinctively trusted him and knew that he would always be there to watch their backs, he liked to think it had been for the best, that she had rescued him from himself. He suddenly felt sorry that he hadn't been able to do the same in return and had to blink back the single tear that threatened to spill over his lashes.

As his cell phone inevitably rang breaking the spell that had surrounded him throughout the night, he found that without realizing it somewhere in the process of remembering and of grieving, laying her to rest in his mind, he'd forgiven her, and he smiled slowly as he flipped open his phone, "Yeah, Gibbs…"