Chapter Text
Ever since that first night of cowboy steaks at Gibbs, Jack felt that their relationship was this awkward dance of secrets, mistrust, pain and a slew of PTSD. After catching Masahun, she had hoped yet knew she was too raw to take things further and Jethro accepted that. Still they made time for each other and were there for each other. She knew when he was in crisis and it made her feel better that he had gone to Grace. There were some lines neither of them should cross and that included therapy. It was odd enough they shared the same therapist and Jack felt bad for her and grateful for Grace’s balancing act.
Since that first dinner that led to other dinners, poker games where she was the last to leave on many occasions. Christmas Eve had been their turning point of becoming actually intimately involved. These encounters weren’t something they really talked about other than meaningful glances, light touches and some innate knowledge when the other needed them. She wondered sometimes what their actual situation was but it wasn’t worth upsetting it to discuss with him. They just were and that was comfortable.
That is not to say they had, had some major speed bumps, Faith’s rejection, Gibbs being targeted by Deakin, him finally telling the team about what really had happened to Pedro Hernandez and subsequent breakdown for burning a rule. If he had been able to be honest with himself he would have had to acknowledge how often he had broken it himself but letting go was hard and his response was to revert to his marine stability on the outside because inside he was a swirl of emotions he had no idea how to deal with and that made him angry.
That anger nearly reached the boiling point when they were at dinner and got the 911 text from Fornell. Jack felt helpless but the look and hand squeeze he gave her before joining Fornell in Emily’s hospital room was soothing for both of them.
There wasn’t a place for her in that moment, and she respected that. But she waited outside in the corridor until well past midnight, until Fornell had someone else to sit with him, and Gibbs emerged, his face pale and drawn. His tension was exuded from him and she knew that he would activate the team to get the investigation going.
He didn’t say a word when he came back to the hospital to get her, just nodded, and she followed him to his truck. The ride home was silent but heavy, like the calm after a storm that hadn’t yet passed. Jack didn’t try to fill it. She knew better than that.
When they stepped into his house, neither of them reached for the lights. The glow from the fireplace embers still flickering from earlier was enough to guide them. He pulled off his coat and let it fall on the back of the couch, then walked to the kitchen in that slow, deliberate gait she’d come to recognize as him holding himself together.
Jack stood in the living room, arms wrapped around herself, watching his silhouette as he poured two fingers of bourbon into a glass and hesitated before pouring a second one. He brought it to her without a word. She took it, letting her fingers brush his for a beat longer than necessary.
“You okay?” she asked quietly.
He looked at her, and the weariness in his eyes hit her like a punch to the chest. “No.”
He didn’t need to elaborate. And she didn’t need to fix it. She just set the glass down untouched and reached out, her fingers grazing his arm, then curling around it.
He didn’t resist when she tugged him closer. Didn’t resist when her hands came up to his face, cradling the sharp lines of his jaw, her thumbs brushing over the rough stubble. He closed his eyes at the contact, leaned into it, into her.
Their kiss was slow at first, unsure, tentative—like the both of them were afraid that too much pressure would cause everything to collapse. But in the moment his hands slid to her waist and held her there, firm and grounding, something inside Jack loosened. The intensity shifted—months of wanting more than their casual liaisons, not daring, all wrapped in grief and exhaustion—poured into it. She tasted salt on his lips, didn’t know if it was hers or his. She didn’t care.
He backed her up until her legs hit the edge of the couch. She sank down and he followed, resting his forehead against hers.
“Are we doing this because you need it… or because we both do?” she whispered.
He exhaled slowly, one hand sliding up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Both.”
Her response was a nod and a whisper-soft “Okay,” before she pulled him down with her.
Their clothes came off slowly, deliberately, with pauses that allowed space for doubt to creep in—but neither of them gave it room to grow. Instead, they kissed it away, pressed hands to skin like it could ground the ache they both carried. He was gentle, reverent, as if she might vanish if he held her too tightly. She touched him like someone who’d studied his pain, catalogued the places it lived in his body and mind.
When they finally came together, it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was quiet, like everything else between them—a soft surrender rather than an explosion, a language spoken without words. His breath at her ear, her fingers gripping his back, their bodies finding a rhythm older than all their hurts.
Afterward, they didn’t speak. He pulled the throw from the back of the couch and wrapped it around them both. She curled into his chest, listening to his heart gradually slow.
In the dark, the only sound was the faint crackle of dying embers and the whispered brush of his lips against her hair.
The next day they went on like they always had but knowing something had changed. Their next speedbump was Ziva. Finding out that Ziva had been alive all this time and that she blamed Gibbs for not knowing she wasn’t dead that he had given up on her even though Jack knew how much he had mourned this adopted daughter and was angry with Ziva for being too insensitive to his feelings. Still she knew that Gibbs wouldn’t let her fight his battles any more that she would let him for her.
Things came to a head when she had to ask him about what they were doing. It wasn’t like she minded where they were at but there was so much going on. Gibbs was on edge knowing that someone was probably targeting him. Instead of answering her, she entered her office in the morning and found her Rorschach picture gone and in its place a painting of an elephant with her .
With a deep sigh Jack reflected on how she had been feeling off for a couple of weeks and her formally beloved red pasta sauce had turned on her in the most violent manner. The rest, tired and achy, were ruled out as well. I'm 52 . Their ambiguous ending to that conversation had her bursting into tears in her car and if that wasn’t a sign nothing was.
Taking a deep breath she braced herself to enter the pharmacy and was proud that she hadn’t talked through that entire experience. Once she was at home she finished two bottles of water and got ready to set the two minute timer. Three tests later she was stumped and then went to the app to get a doctor’s appointment. That conversation was productive if not even more confusing, so by the time she walked into her office, she had had enough.
Picking up her phone she called McGee and asked him to send Gibbs to her office. It was petty but she was just done for the day. There was barely a knock before her door flew open and Gibbs stood there looking frustrated. “What?”
His tone made Jack’s frown deeper. “Excuse me? Do you want to go back out that door and try again?” His manners or maybe just his self-preservation had him back out and give the door a gentle knock.”
Once he closed the door and stood by her desk she sighed. “Nice painting by the way.” Gibbs flushed but didn’t comment. Opening her drawer she slid the pregnancy test along with the dr’s report. “The elephant now wants attention, so congratulations.”
At one time Jack wouldn’t have thought Gibbs could ever look completely stunned but somehow she had managed to do that. She wouldn’t mention that since she had had more time to process their situation.
“Sit down, Gibbs. Before you fall over.” He sat down heavily in the chair across from her desk with his head in his hands for a minute before looking up at her. “Are you kidding me?” Jack tried to read his face but like their poker games there was no hint.” She picked up the test and shook it at him. “You think I would kid about something like this? Oh my fucking god, Gibbs! I just can’t with you.”
Their eyes met and all they could do was both sigh. “I am not twenty years old, Jack. How?” Gibbs asked. “Probably the same way I’m not twenty either. I’ve just been told I am twelve weeks along in a geratric pregnancy and I am closer to getting AARP than having a baby for what is kind of the first time.” Gibbs scoffed. “Closer? I have AARP.” Rubbing a hand over his face before all he could do was laugh. “Guess neither of us gave much thought about safe sex other than actually being healthy. Jack snorted. “Well we got the healthy part right.” She told him with a shake of her head to take the chair beside the one he was in.
“So about that elephant?” All Gibbs could do was let out a full out belly laugh. Jack sighed. “Jethro, this is serious. We’re about to have a baby in the next six to seven months!” She paused and studied his face. “Unless you…?” Instinctively Gibbs reached for her hand. “No, I’m not saying that at all. I am baffled by all of the chances of being over sixty and havn’ a kid wasn’t on the bucket list. That is not to say I’m not happy because I am. I am just confused as to how?”
“The same way we both did it the first time. No birthcontrol, granted I honestly thought it was menopause to be honest, Until the morning sickness which started yesterday by the way. Then I had to actually take it seriously.”
Gibbs sat back with his fingers laced behind his head and almost looked smug. “Please tell me you’re not proud of yourself.” He gave her a big grin. “Well…” All Jack could do was lean back in her chair and sigh. “What is my life?”
Reaching for the doctor’s report he looked it over along with the picture of the sonogram. It was still blowing his mind. “We did that?” “We most certainly did, now we have to figure out the rest of the things. Dinner tonight?”
Gibbs schooled his expression as he folded the report and stuck it in his jacket’s inner pocket. “Dinner is the best place to start. Other than that?” Jack handed him a folder. I was going to run this down but this should give you some ideas as to who knows where Henries might have gone.” He gave her a short nod and headed back to the bullpen; to try and focus on the case.