Ghost: The NCIS Version

Disclaimer: NCIS, the characters, and the story lines belong to DBP/CBS/Paramount. The movie "Ghost" is owned by Paramount, too. (Geez, these guys have cornered the market on some really cool stuff) No copyright infringement intended.

Authors Note: I can't believe that it's been a year. I confess that I still miss Jenny---very much. Fair warning: the story gets a little sappy and out of character in parts. This idea plagued me, so I had to (pardon the pun) "lay it to rest". I hope you enjoy it. Reviews are always appreciated.

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For once, DiNozzo was right. It was just like the movie.

Jenny Shepard looked down at what was now the shell of the body she had inhabited for the past forty four years. The pain from the gunshot wounds had been unbearable. When she finally succumbed to the overwhelming urge to give up and let go, she had slipped into a few moments of blissful nothingness. Then she woke up and stood. Looking down at what remained, she felt so … disconnected. In death, she felt no pain. It was a little disquieting. She remembered the quote that "death was the last great adventure". She was hardly in a position to argue.

She wanted to place a hand on Mike's shoulder as he gruffly called her name and felt for a pulse, but she wasn't sure if she could touch him. Was touching allowed after you were dead? Oh, God! She thought—that sounded so much like a question Ducky's assistant, Palmer would have asked. She heard Mike swear and was surprised that she could sense what this normally inexpressive man was feeling: anger, loss, regret and a momentary tenderness as he swept her bangs from her face.

"Guess you're not gonna get that chance to thank me now, Director. Damn! What in the hell am I supposed to tell Probie?"

She smiled at that. While his words earlier in the diner about Jethro had surprised her, she did not doubt their sincerity. This only confirmed it.

Someone was coming—she didn't know how she knew, but the knowledge was overwhelming. She mentally pushed Mike from the diner. Jethro was going to need his help. Mike needed to leave—and fast. Once she was sure the car was safely away, she turned back to the diner and braced for whatever was coming.

She watched Tony and Ziva enter. She felt pride as they carefully assessed the scene. Gibbs had trained them well. One look at Ziva's face caused her nonexistent heart to flinch. If anything, she wished she could ease the grief that she saw in Ziva's eyes and sensed in her mind. Ziva had seen too much death in her young life.

Tony's features were a tad more guarded as he bent to feel for the pulse that had stopped minutes ago. She could feel the anger and shock. She knew that he still held some reservations after what she had asked him to do concerning Jeanne, but he did care—she could feel that now. Even in death, there were times when you wished you could go back and undo the past. This was one of them. Not that it would help him in the current situation.

The ringing of her cell phone surprised her. She heard Jethro's voice call to her through the phone. She was glad that she could not see his face as Tony relayed the news. She had been the reason for enough unhappiness. She did not wish to cause him more.

"We should have followed her, Ziva. This is my fault" DiNozzo's voice came in a coarse whisper.

"It is no one's fault, Tony. We were given a direct order and we followed it. This was Jenny's choice"

"To die alone? In the middle of freakin' nowhere? Not likely, Zee-vah!" He stormed out of the diner and towards their rental car, kicking up dirt and stones.

She considered Ziva's words carefully. She knew the Israeli well enough to know that the clinical assessment of the situation was not meant to come across as uncaring. Was it her choice? She was told she would have succumbed to the disease ravaging her body within the next six months. She had spent her personal leave in Geneva where the doctors had confirmed that nothing could be done. Her options were limited: to die wasted and helpless in a hospital bed or to go out on her own terms—and a gun fight was one of the strongest ways she could imagine. She died protecting the man her heart had never been able to forget. Perhaps she had made her choice. Whether or not it was going to be one she was proud of remained to be seen.

She bristled when Leon drove up. Of all people, why him? His eyes coldly swept the diner--assessing the scene and taking in the bodies. He had lingered near hers for a moment longer than the others. The cooling temperature should have been enough of an indicator, but he kicked her knee with his shoe. Bastard wants to be sure I'm dead. She wished for the ability to physically move---to open her lifeless eyes and stare him down one more time. She smiled at the mental image of Leon Vance pissing himself. The dead could still have a sense of humor, right?

"Yes, of course we can" She turned, startled by the voice behind her.

"Special Agent Cassidy?" Jenny gasped.

"Titles are of little use when you're dead, Jenny. Let's just leave it at Paula, okay" The blonde grinned. She was dressed casually in jeans and a white t-shirt. Evidently the afterlife had a pretty relaxed dress code. She didn't think she was going to miss the heels or the business suits.

"So this is what dead feels like?"

"Pretty much. It takes some getting used to"

"I'm a fast learner. Or at least I used to be. I'm not really sure what I am now. Or how I'm supposed to be feeling. I was expecting there be a white light for me to walk into… or… something along those lines" She shrugged, a little embarrassed.

"Listening to Tony and his movie references again?" Paula teased, "For now, we wait."

"For what?" Was she about to meet God? She was a little ambivalent about that prospect. She believed in God, but she had never been what some would call 'religious'. Where—in the cosmic balance sheet of life—did that leave her?

Paula gave her a knowing look, "You'll see"

"Why are you here?" Jenny questioned.

"To help you understand. The living think they are the only ones who need to let go and move on. It's a sad misconception"

"So I'm here until I let go? Let go of what exactly?"

"You've held on to many things, Jenny. I think you'll figure it out as we go"

"How long will it take?" It was one thing to be dead—quite another to wonder about one's life expectancy as a ghost.

"That's up to you."

"You're still here" She lifted an eyebrow. The habit--so common in life-- was one that she still possessed in the afterlife. A strangely comforting thought. "Does that mean you're working on a few things?"

"A few" Paula's eyes shifted as Tony slowly made his way back into the diner. He pulled out a chair and heavily sat on it. Ziva followed a moment later. Jenny noted the look in Paula's eyes. "I take it DiNozzo is one of those things?"

Paula smiled, wistfully watching the way Tony encouraged Ziva to lean against him. The few tears the Israeli allowed herself landed on his shoulder. "One of them. You will soon discover that it is harder to let go of some things than others"

"What do we do now?"

Paula gave her the look usually reserved for impatient children. "Wait"

Waiting patiently had never been a virtue one would have credited her with in life. She doubted that death would change that. Nevertheless, she joined Paula in sitting on the long dusty counter in the diner—and waited.

{ { { { { { { {

The long night allowed her to discover a few perks about being dead. The ability to be perpetually awake without feeling tired was something she could have used while living. Tony and Ziva had remained long after the bodies had been picked up. She thought it only fair that she stay, too.

She had always possessed a sixth sense where Jethro was concerned. She felt his car slow to a stop outside the diner.

"Want me to stay with you for this one?" Paula asked.

"Can I be alone with him for a moment?"

Paula offered a knowing smile and simply faded from view.

If there were air in her lungs, she would have caught her breath as she looked into Jethro's lined face. It looked as if he had aged ten years—and she had only seen him 72 hours before. At least he was spared the sight of her body. The large pool of blood marked with her name painted its own ghastly picture.

Jethro. His eyes were hollow and it annoyed her that she could not read his mind. What was going on? She could read everyone else so easily. She stepped forward and gently laid a hand on his arm. A small frown creased his brow and he pulled his jacket closer to him. Had he felt that? She knew that an apology was out of the question. An explanation was the best she could do. She was forced to rely on the living for that.

"Jethro, call Franks" she said, knowing that he could not hear her. "Mike can explain everything. You're going to need him. Please listen. Don't make my death inconsequential"

Leon verbally sketched the last few moments of her life. He even offered an apology. She was fully aware of the insincerity of it; she had little doubt that Gibbs believed it either. "I'm sorry"—a generic enough statement. One of those polite things you were taught to say when someone died. The sentiment cost Vance the same amount of emotion it would if it had been his daughters' goldfish who had met an untimely demise—toothpick sucking jerk.

In "Ghost", the character had learned how to move things with his mind. She wondered for a moment if Paula could teach her how to do that. If she were stuck here to haunt people, she was going to be sure that Leon Vance was at the top of her list.

She watched as Jethro walked towards his car. "I guess I don't have to ask you if he is unfinished business" Paula stated. "You know, DiNozzo always speculated, but most of us never believed him"

"Why do you think that now?" Jenny snapped.

"Think you're the only one with the superpowers?" Paula quipped, "I can read him easily."

"Then why can't I?" She turned towards the other woman, frustration evident on her face. "I've almost always known exactly what Jethro was thinking. Now it's like I'm blocked"

"Sucks, huh? I have the same problem with Tony. C'mon. We don't want to miss the flight"

"Flight?"

"We're taking the private jet with Vance back to D.C. Don't want to miss your autopsy, do you?"

Flashbacks of watching her first autopsy came to mind. It had been bad enough watching Ducky's scalpel cut into the body of a stranger. "I don't think I want to be there." She shuddered. "Why a plane? Can't we just wish our way back to D.C?"

Paula laughed and shook her head. "There are many things Tony's movies don't get right. We take transportation, just like everyone else. The autopsy is up to you. We do, however, need to go home. There is nothing left to do here."

{ { { { { { { {

"Do it again!" Jenny gleefully demanded.

Paula groaned, "Okay, but watch closely this time. The secret is to concentrate"

Jenny watched in delight as Paula slid her hand forward and pushed now Director Vance's drink from the right hand side to the left hand side of the small desk onboard the private jet. He absent mindedly reached for the drink, taken aback when it was not where he thought he had left it. He glanced around and scowled.

"This is fun!" Paula grinned, enjoying his expression. "I never really liked this guy either. You ready to try?"

Jenny concentrated, bringing to her mind all of the pent up anger that she felt for the man who had usurped her agency. This time however, instead of moving from left to right, the drink moved forward. Tipping into his lap.
"Damn! He glared at his security detail--silently wondering if they were messing with him.

"Problem, Director Vance?"

"Turbulence" He nodded at the agent's use of his new title. Director Vance. He liked that.

"Sorry, Sir, I must not have noticed it"

He mopped the front of his pants with napkins. Jenny's smug grin was infectious.

Paula sighed, but she didn't hide her own smile. Given the circumstances, she was sure God would understand. Where did the living think a sense of humor originated from? God enjoyed a practical joke—and she was certain that Leon Vance deserved a little torment.

{ { { { { { { {

Stepping into NCIS was unsettling. No doors to open. She simply drifted through. It gave her a cold shiver whenever she passed through anything solid. A sensation, Paula assured her, that she would become accustomed to in time.

She purposefully headed towards Autopsy. Ducky! She wished again that she would somehow ease the strain that she saw in his weary blue eyes. Although he had known of her diagnosis, they had not anticipated that an autopsy would be part of his duties before saying his final goodbye. If she could, she would have spared him that.

She watched as Paula swept the paperwork to fall to the floor. Jimmy Palmer picked the sheets up, placing the pages in the wrong order. She rolled her eyes as Ducky opened the black bag to reveal the body of one of her young attackers, instead of her own.

Paula was laughing. 'If you're not going to stay, at least we can have a bit of fun with it before the gory part starts"

Her attention was drawn away as the door swooshed and she saw Jethro enter. Ducky stared at his friend. "It's okay, Ducky" she whispered, "You can tell him now".

"She was dying, Jethro"

She watched Jethro struggle with the decision to open the black bag that contained her earthly remains. She was surprised when he abruptly released the zipper and exited the autopsy suite. "I hate not being able to know what he is thinking"

"You will… when you're ready" came Paula's elusive reply.

{ { { { { { { {

The mood in the lab was subdued. The heavy metal rage had been replaced with a traditional Louisiana dirge. She had always loved Abby—even if she had not been able to express love as exuberantly as the young Goth. She admired that quality: the ability to love and give of yourself so freely and without a thought of how another person might weigh motives or agenda. Simplicity and genuine caring were a part of Abby's general mindset. Jenny regretted not spending more time—maybe if she had, a little of that would have rubbed off on her while she was still living.

Alone in the lab, she watched Abby gently lift her blood stained shirt from the evidence box. The girl dropped the evidence suddenly--putting it down to grab a tissue to wipe the tears that ran down her cheek.

"It's okay, Abby. I always knew how you felt. I wish I could have one of those hugs about now"

Abby wrapped Bert the Hippo in a fierce embrace. "Director, if you were here, I promise I would wrap you in a big hug… and I wouldn't let you go."

Can she hear me?! Jenny was astounded.

"You're learning to project a bit. Of course, Abby's always been open to that kind of thing. It would be easier with her than with anyone else" Paula drifted into the lab, providing an answer to the unspoken question.

Jenny nodded and placed her hand on the top of the scientist's braided hair. "Thanks, Abby. I would like that"

Abby lifted her head from Bert, suddenly alert and wide eyed. Tim entered the lab. "You okay, Abby?"

"Ever get the odd feeling that we're not alone, McGee?"

"You mean like little green men from Mars or when Gibbs is watching us over the monitor?"

She slugged him. "No, McGee!" She glanced around the lab, "I would almost swear that I just heard the Director"

"Vance has been in his office all day"

"No, Timmy! Director Shepard! Jenny! It's kind of like after Kate died. I just felt like she was here and that I knew everything was going to be okay."

"If you're talking ghosts, Abbs, I wouldn't let Gibbs hear you say that" He was a little discomfited —thinking back to his own experience after Kate died. While he had always considered the Director a beautiful woman, he had no real desire to see her materialize in front of him as the object of some hormonal teen age fantasy. Of course, she would have made for a very sexy naughty librarian. He shook his head and thought again that Tony had not always been the best of influences.

"What Timmy?" Abby pouted.

He leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I believe you if you say it. To be honest, I wish she were still here, too."

{ { { { { { { {

She was sitting with Paula in the bullpen. Gibbs looked like he was a million miles away—and she still had no clue what he was thinking. She watched the screen as Tim brought up Svetlana. Oh, God! If she was in D.C. that meant Jethro was still in danger. It was her fault. She had tried to fix it, but evidently Viggo was only a hired gun. Dead or alive, she'd be damned if she was going to fail this time! She watched as Gibbs abruptly left the squad room. Where was he headed?

"Paula!"

"Jenny, what's wrong?" She listened to the abbreviated version of the problem.

"Is Mike in D.C?"

Paula nodded. She knew that he had arrived two hours after Gibbs plane had landed. She saw and understood the pleading in Jenny's eyes, "Tell me where to be—I'll make sure he's with me".

Jenny barely caught Jethro as his car started. She slid into the seat beside him. "Not the best idea you've ever had, Gibbs. I can't stop you, but I'm not letting you go alone"

She walked with Jethro into her study, noting the quiet reverence in which he entered. She still could not read his emotions, but they had communicated well without words in the past. This time, his actions spoke volumes. At least that's a start.

He sat at her desk, flipping through the papers that lay on top.

"Hey, that's my stuff..." but the protest died on her lips when she saw him lift the letter that she had started to write before leaving for Decker's funereal. A letter she was so sure that she would have time to finish, even if she was still struggling with what to say. "Jethro, I 'm so sorry." She stood behind him as he sat in her chair and placed a kiss gently against his temple. She both saw and felt the shudder than ran through him at her touch. Could he feel her?

"Too many memories. It feels like you're still here, Jen" His voice was strained. He went to pour himself a bourbon.

"Jethro!" She shouted, catching a glimpse of movement in the hallway. He froze.

"Hello, Svetlana. Or do you prefer Natasha now?"

"It was you who killed Anatoly"

"That night a woman was sent to kill you"

"She couldn't do it" the Russian sneered.

Jenny cursed at the admission. She had not been able to kill her. Largely due to the fact she had watched Svetlana leave the doctor's office with the picture of the developing child in her hands. A new life. Svetlana had merely been with Anatoly. She had never actually killed anyone. She remembered glancing at her wrist watch at the time. Knowing Jethro, Anatoly should have breathed his last breath minutes ago. Should she give a life in return for the life that was taken? What had Jethro said earlier that day? Something about reality and learning to accept that sometimes Fate steps in when you least expect it. A person had to be open to allow Fate to take that step. Was it a cruel twist of destiny that the woman she had spared was now about to kill the man that she loved?

"Can you do it?" He briefly glanced at the Sig that was on Jen's desk a few feet away. Svetlana's gun was cocked and ready. Even Gibbs couldn't have made it in time to defend himself.

"Damn it, Jethro! Go for your gun! I don't want this for you. It's not time for you!" In anger, she shoved the crystal bourbon decanter over.

BAM!

She heard the shot and saw Svetlana fall. Dead. She let unseen tears fall. Thankful to see Mike's smoking gun at the doorway.

{ { { { { { {

Project! Concentrate! She was trying like hell to do both. Where is Paula when I need her? In all fairness, it had been Mike's idea for the gas leak and to burn down her townhouse. Her house! The memories—good and bad—that it held. Strategically, it had been a good call. She knew that. It still hurt to watch in disbelief as the flames leapt and devoured the tangible remnants of her life.

"Something I have to let go of, right?" She sensed Paula at her side as she perched on the top of the neighbor's car across the street.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Jenny"

"Me, too. I've been rather fond of that door since I was a child" She turned, "Thanks for getting Mike here. I think you just saved Gibbs life."

"I won't wait around for his thank you" Paula responded wryly. "Jenny, there's something that I have to do. Are you okay here?"

Jen shrugged. What was okay anymore? "Will I see you again?"

"I don't know. Maybe. It depends on how things go."

"Thanks, Paula. I will see you again… sometime I'm sure."

"I'm looking forward to that." She watched as Paula walked slowly down the street –her form disappearing into the smoke.

{ { { { { { { {

She should have known that Tony's apartment would be nice, but DiNozzo was still a frat boy at heart. She sighed at the pizza box and at both the empty and open bottle of alcohol in front of him as he lolled on the sofa. If she had to guess, he was ¾ of the way to being totally drunk.

"Tony?"

He took another long gulp of scotch. Whoa! He was drunker than he thought. The drink he had shared with Ziva in Autopsy had been a prelude to his evening. He was set on numbing the pain. Trying to forget Jenny on the floor, the look on the Boss's face, and the clear evidence of his failure at yet another mission.

"Tony?" She called again.

"Paula?" He smiled drunkenly. Well, hell! He had been totally shit-faced drunk before, but he had never seen a ghost. "Ghost, 1990, Patrick Swayze. Demi Moore was so hot in that one!" He actually felt a hand on his forehead as he fell back on the sofa. He blinked his hazel eyes again and tried to focus. It sure looked like Paula.

She stroked his forehead, "I'm proud of you, you know. The whole falling in love thing."

"Well don't be. I screwed that up. Screwed up my assignment—quite literally. And now I go and botch my protection detail. Pretty much fucked my whole career at this point. Vance will have my badge, I'm sure of it."

"I've been watching over you since I left. Trying to make sure you were okay."

"Should have seen it coming" His eyes glazed over with the memory. Paula knew where his mind was."I should've have protected you"

She smiled sadly, "Not your fault that I died, Tony. It was my time. The guys on my team were there waiting for me. It wasn't as bad as you might think"

"I would have jumped through that door for you, Paula. You know that, don't you?" His words were slurred, but finally Paula Cassidy could feel what the man beside her was feeling. She had been waiting a long time for this moment.

"Yeah, I do. That's why I'm here. To say "thank you"; to tell you that "I'm sorry that I left making you feel that way. And to tell you what I was never brave enough to say. Cause like I said, if you mean it, you really should say it."

"What's that?"

"I love you, Tony"

She kissed him softly. She could feel his emotions and hear all of the thoughts running through his mind as he returned that kiss. "For a freakin' dream, that was one of the best kisses I've ever had. This is a dream, right? Too much scotch, not enough sleep."

"The best kind of dream, Tony" She laid a hand on his head, "Go to sleep, now. And remember what I said. '

"What was that again?"

"If you mean it, say it. Life's too short. I think you'll find that she feels the same way"

His eyes were heavy. "She?" He mumbled.

She whispered a name in his ear, placing one last kiss on his lips before fading away. Tony smiled in his sleep—his thoughts now full of the last name that came to his mind. "Ziva".

{ { { { { { { {

"Jenny?"

Jen turned and looked. Paula was back—and looking different than she had seen her the last time.

"It's time for me to leave you now"

"No more unfinished business?"

"I finished it tonight" She sighed softly, "Time for me to move on"

Jenny smiled. At least someone had gotten their ending. Probably not quite the way they planned, but an ending just the same. "Any pointers on tormenting Vance?"

Paula looked thoughtful, "Torment isn't always the right choice. Sometimes by lingering we haunt those that we love, too. The sad part is that by remaining too long, we turn good dreams into nightmares. We end up hurting them far more than we ever did by dying and leaving them behind"

They both knew of whom she was speaking.

{ { { { { { {

She rode beside Gibbs as he drove his car from NCIS to his house. She could feel the tension and fatigue fighting for dominance. She wondered if he would try and lose himself in bourbon and by working on that damn boat.

She felt a bit of the voyeur as she watched him get undressed and into the shower. The hard planes of his body had always been pleasing. Time had not changed that. He ran a towel through his hair and pulled his tee shirt on over his sweatpants. Then he stopped.

"Jenny?" He called into the empty room. It was almost like he could feel her presence in the room with him. He could smell her perfume.

"I'm right here, Jethro"

Amazed, he turned and took in the now visible form of Jennifer Shepard. Standing in front of him, whole and well. "Jen, are you real?" His hands itched to reach out and touch, but he was afraid. "I want you to be"

"Then, I am" She moved into his arms, feeling his warm embrace close around her. She was solid.

"How was this happening?" He whispered into her hair. He pulled her away long enough to look into her eyes, "You can't stay, can you?"

"No… it's only for a moment."

The doubt and confusion she saw in his piercing blue eyes was replaced by pain. "Why did you---"

She placed her hand across his mouth. "You know why. It was the only way I had to try and stop what I set into motion nine years ago by not taking the shot like I was ordered to. I wasn't brave enough to tell you that I was dying, Jethro. I was running out of time. This was my choice-- was my way to prove that I love you. Promise me that you'll never doubt that. I made the wrong decision by leaving you in Paris. And I have a confession to make: I lied when I came back to NCIS. I missed you too, Jethro."

Gibbs touched his lips to hers--trying to put all of the sentiment into what he knew was the last time he would ever see her. The last chance he would ever have to touch her. "How is this possible?"

"I'm still here because I had unfinished business. Telling you that I never stopped loving you and why I died in that diner fixed that. You have to let me go, Jethro. Think of me and smile… I don't want you to be sad. Your assurance of that is all that I need to rest in peace."

"Jen, I wish---"

"Trust me, I know. I wish, too." She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him once more. She stepped away from his embrace.

"Jethro? Do me one last favor?"

"Anything."

"Don't blame, Tony. Don't let him blame himself. Tell him he was right about that movie: You take the love with you, Jethro. It doesn't really die"

She stepped away reluctant to let him go.

"Jen, I--"

"I know" She gave him a radiant smile as she slowly faded from his vision.

{ { { { { { {

Gibbs woke the next morning with a start. Jenny! He lifted his head slowly. He was dressed and in his basement lying under the boat with an empty bottle of bourbon on the concrete floor next to him. He slowly ran his hand over his face, rubbing his eyes. Had it all been a dream?

By the time he had showered and dressed, he had convinced himself that it had been just that. He got in his car to head to NCIS—surprised to find the bullpen empty. Where in the hell was everyone? Jen's funeral wasn't until tomorrow. He was sure that the team was dreading it as much as he was. He found them in Abby's lab. He froze as he started to come around the corner.

"It's true what they say, Molly. The love inside. It doesn't die. You take it with you" The familiar tune of "Unchained Melody" drifted from Abby's lab. He knew the movie well—Shannon had insisted that they see it before he had deployed. It had been one of her favorites. Now that he remembered, it had been one of Jenny's favorite movies, too.

He watched the final scene from the movie fade. As the credits began to roll, he could see McGee holding Abby and handing her a tissue. Hell, he could have sworn that Tony put a hand on Ziva's shoulder, and she was allowing herself comfort and support from his touch.

He turned for the elevator, but not before he heard Tony remark, "You guys will never believe the dream I had last night".

He paused, lifting his eyes heavenward. And smiled.

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The End