AN: Wow, this site sucks. It took three tries for the document manager to load properly. In other news, guess who's finally writing a new story? I'm working on the second chapter right now. It will probably be somewhere between 5 and 10 chapters total. I hope I'll be able to update regularly but that remains to be seen. I'll most likely be posting each chapter as soon as it's done, but I might space some out if I'm writing quickly. This story is based on Judgment Day but it's also very different. (And maybe a few elements of Hiatus as well.) If it doesn't entirely make sense now have no fear, all will be revealed eventually. Sorry this first chapter is so short, other things were intended for it but I just had to break it there. Also sorry about the long AN.

Damage Control

Chapter One

Jethro's eyes fluttered open and shut a few times, unaccustomed to the bright overhead lights. He took in his surroundings, taking note of the man seated in the chair beside his bed.

"What happened?" The back of his throat ached when he spoke. The man at the bedside glanced up sharply.

"You don't remember?"

"Relax, Duck. I remember you," Ducky was visibly relieved. "I'm just not sure how I got… here."

"That's not terribly uncommon. The memory loss will most likely be temporary," Ducky asserted.

"How long?" Jethro kept his questions short. His voice was still raspy.

"Almost two days. You were pretty heavily sedated after surgery, which is probably also the reason you don't remember the… incident." Jethro gasped suddenly. "Did you remember something, Jethro?" Ducky asked hopefully. Instead of answering, Jethro closed his eyes. He hoped by blocking out the world he could hold on to the image that had flashed through his head.

"No," he said finally. "Where's Jenny?" Saying her name was like turning a key. It was her face he was thinking of, framed by red hair. "She was there, wasn't she?" Jethro was so focused on trying to remember what had happened in… California, that was it—that he missed Ducky's look of discomfort.

"Yes, Jethro, she was. It was incredible, really, what you did. It's a shame you don't remember it. Are you sure you can't recall anything?"

"Only in pieces," he muttered.

"It will get easier," Ducky reassured him. "In any case… you'd been shot three times, once in the right leg. I'm amazed you could even move, with a bullet in your leg and the amount of blood you lost. You know, I've always found it remarkable; the effect adrenaline can have on the human body. You carried Jenny on your back out of that dusty old—"

"…Diner," Jethro finished. "It was a diner, wasn't it?"

"You got your cell, Jen?" he called, hoping desperately that she was still conscious. Jethro had dropped his own cellphone when the shooting started.

"Negative," Jenny coughed, using her good arm to show him the blood-covered remains of her smartphone that had been long ago rendered useless by a bullet.

"Dammit," he muttered. "In that case, the first thing to do is get out of here."

"You're in no condition to drive," Jenny muttered weakly. Her voice was growing fainter.

"We don't have much of a choice, Jen. There could be more coming."

"There aren't."

"We don't know that. And don't talk so much, focus on breathing." Jethro saw her nod in his peripheral vision.

She didn't have her damn phone… why couldn't he remember the important things? Unless he'd known the truth all along and had just been avoiding it, because it was too awful to face…

"Ducky," he asked hoarsely, fear and horror threatening to steal his voice, "is Jenny dead?"