Shepard Residence

7am on December 25th

The first two things Jenny became aware of were that she was very warm and that her head was throbbing. Followed by the sensation that something was wrong. It took her a moment to realise where she was and that Imogen was nowhere near.

She almost tripped in the blanket in her hurry to get off the sofa, as the events of the night before came flooding back.

Jethro picking the lock when she didn't answer the door. Coming upstairs to find her sobbing on the bedroom floor; the vacuum cleaner whirring uselessly in the background, and Imogen screaming at the top of her lungs. But he hadn't said a word. Had merely helped her up and made her lie down, picked up the baby, turned off the lights, and left the room. She remembered lying there thinking that she was the world's worst mother for letting a stranger take over - until finally she'd cried herself to sleep.

At some point she'd woken up to the sound of light tapping, and had padded down the hall to the baby's room. Imogen had been fast asleep in her carrier. Strategically placed where Jethro could keep an eye on her as he worked.

They'd gone downstairs and reheated the food Jethro had brought, and she'd been mortified to realise that she hadn't had the mental space to throw something edible together – even if she'd been expecting him.

Take out had never tasted so good though.

She'd pulled her contribution out of the pantry. A bottle of champagne a cousin had sent as a gift when Imogen had been born. Breastfeeding had been an unmitigated disaster; and she'd been advised to let it go and enjoy her child, rather than obsess or feel guilty.

Consequently there'd been no reason not to have a glass. Only one glass had become two, and then three.

Jethro had watched in amusement as the drink had gone straight to her head, and she vaguely remembered shifting to the sofa at some stage. They'd watched the lights on the Christmas tree twinkle as they made small talk, and she blushed thinking about what she thought she might have said to him under the influence. She was pretty sure she'd commented about his eyes – if not various other parts of him as well.

That part was a bit of a blur.

She knew she hadn't kissed him – although she did remember wanting to a few times. She had no doubt that he hadn't left; that he was upstairs working in the bathroom. But she knew she needed coffee before she braved the morning – and him.

He could probably do with a coffee himself, she decided as she headed for the kitchen.

Gibbs inhaled the scent of Imogen's fuzzy hair and allowed himself the bittersweetness of remembering Kelly's early days. He was so lost in the feelings evoked by the tiny body pressed against his chest, that when he opened his eyes to acknowledge the presence in the doorway he thought he was seeing Shannon.

The flicker of pain and loss when he opened his eyes and looked at her almost made Jenny reel – and although it was gone in a heartbeat, she couldn't help but wonder just how defined Jethro was by his loss. As she'd been making coffee she'd caught herself fantasising about him. About them. All three of them. But looking at him now she wondered how much this was hurting him. She had no doubt who he had been thinking about, and not for the first time since her father had told her about his family, she felt deep sorrow for him.

"She's awake." He stood from the rocking chair and handed the baby over. Placing the blanket that had been covering both of them on top of the dresser as he reached inside it to find something for the baby to wear.

"Did she sleep through the night?"

"Pretty much." He started to button up his shirt.

"Hey .." Jen cooed as she held the baby supine and nuzzled her cheek. Her voice took on a hint of maternal pride. "I think she's smiling, Jethro."

"Jethro, she's smiling." Shannon's voice filled his head.

"I'm sorry." Jenny's voice brought him back to the present.

He watched the emotions run across her face, and knew without a doubt that she knew.

About Shannon.

About Kelly.

About everything.

He hadn't queried Abby or Ducky about the way things had worked out - even though he'd seen their hand in the matter - but hazarding a guess he'd say her father had used his contacts to find out what his background was. It would explain his thoughtful observation of him, and he couldn't say he blamed him. Between his loss and the reputation he knew he had, he was hardly a prize. But part of him was glad she knew. Was glad he wouldn't have to explain.

Or dissemble.

But before he could think of anything to say in response, she had carried on.

"Coffee's getting cold," she said gently as she nodded towards the cup she'd placed on the changing table and set about dressing the baby.

Silence stretched between them as he nodded his thanks and reached for the cup. Silence he knew was pivotal. If he was going to make his excuses and leave, now would be the time. But there was nothing waiting for him at home, and he'd declined Ducky's invitation to lunch. He almost smiled when his brain additionally supplied that in less than twelve hours it was likely colic would rear its ugly head again.

"Would you like some breakfast?" He wondered for a moment if she'd seen the crisis in him – but either way it didn't matter. She had effectively ended the dilemma.

He was staying.

Imogen stared glassily at him as he walked around the kitchen giving her a bottle, but he found he only had eyes for her mother. When he'd left her asleep on the sofa the night before she'd looked worn out. He'd contemplated carrying her upstairs and depositing her on her bed, but had stopped short of that kind of familiarity. Looking at her now he wondered if she'd woken up with a stiff neck.

"Neck hurting?" he asked as he watched her rub the knobby part of her spine.

"The label's irritating my skin," she said as she rummaged in a drawer until she found a pair of scissors. "Would you mind ..." She held them out.

"Yeah .. hang on."

Jethro placed Imogen against his shoulder and rubbed her back firmly until she burped. Then he strapped her into the carrier sitting on top of the table, and turned back towards Jen.

The cold steel against her skin made her suck in a tiny breath, but the goosebumps were a reaction to the callused fingertips grazing the irritated spot.

"Cold?"

The smugness in his tone gave away the pleasure he was taking in the situation - but two could play that game, she decided.

"A little."

"Better?" he asked as she rubbed her arms.

She'd been expecting a vigorous rub. Not a gentle one, and most certainly not a criss-cross gentle one. She realised with a start that the desire to kiss him was back; and if the mouth pressed to the back of her head was any indication, she wasn't the only one enjoying the proximity. Encouraged, she turned slowly. Wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tight. Exhaling softly as his arms wound around her shoulders and held her in place.

The silence became deafening as the space between them diminished, and the very solid sound of Jethro's heartbeat reverberated through her senses. The words the needed to be said rattled around in her brain, demanding to be spoken before they got any closer on a physical level. And she knew where the closeness was heading – because if he didn't kiss her, she was going to kiss him.

But first she had to be sure.

"I don't want you in our lives if it's going to hurt you, Jethro" she whispered.

So softly that he almost didn't hear her. But he did, and the weight of her words hit home with savagery he hadn't been expecting. Even if he'd had a clue what to say to that, she didn't seem willing to wait for a comeback.

"If you're here because because of the decisions you made after Imogen's birth, because you feel guilty, or because you feel you need to fix th-"

She trailed off when his arms dropped to the side.

"You have nothing to feel guilty about, Jethro. You did what was best for me – and I thank you for that."

He wasn't ready for this kind of conversation, he realised. Mostly because he'd never really thought of it in those terms - and it stunned him that the spin she put on the situation was probably as close to the truth as one could get. Something which, in itself, made him feel like crap. Even as it annoyed him that his attraction to her could be interpreted in this way and be fractionally right.

"If that's why you came and that's why you stayed then you need to leave. Before things get complicated."

Despite the fact that he knew she was giving him an out, the words stung – and felt like a dismissal. And it must have been written all over his face, because the next thing he knew her palm was flush against his cheek and she was speaking again.

"Jethro.."

He shook his head minutely and pressed his mouth to her palm. Covering it swiftly with his own and keeping it pressed against his cheek. He didn't have the words to express himself, he realised.

But he did have the perfect means.

"I'll be back," he said as he pushed another kiss to her palm and then walked away.

Out of the kitchen, and out of the house.

Jen wrapped her arms around herself. Repeating over and over to herself that it was better this way for all concerned. She was so engrossed with the minutiae of brewing coffee that she didn't realise he'd come back until she turned around cradling a cup and found him in her personal space.

"Trade ya," he said as he relieved her of it and placed a package in her hands.

As he took in the look on her face he was suddenly very happy that he'd asked Abby to wrap it for him. Outlandish taste combined with festive colours had made for a spectacular gift wrap and from the way Jenny's eyes had lit up, she thought so too.

He wouldn't have thought it possible, but her eyes grew wider still when she pulled out the wooden rattle.

"It's beautiful," she said as her fingers caressed the strips of wood encasing five jingle belss. "Where did you find this?"

"Made it."

"You … made it? For Imogen?"

"Yeah."

The tears spilled over mercilessly, and her hand rose to his cheek again.

"Thank you, Jethro."

He watched as her lips closed upon his until they touched; his eyes closing before hers as they explored the sensations of their first kiss. Slow and curious, it was a lot more tender then he was expecting. She took his top lip between hers, pinching softly; and as she did, her right hand sought out the back of his neck. For some reason he felt vulnerable, and in the maelstrom of emotions conspiring within him, he found himself wondering whether it was because her left hand had found a place over his heart.

She was making him feel things he couldn't remember feeling in years. Clearly he'd forgotten what it was like to kiss a woman, he thought as his right hand moved down to rest on her hip. He pulled her closer to him. Conscious of her smell all around him. Feeling her heartbeat. Experiencing her warmth. Hearing the soft clicks of her jaw as her mouth undulated against his in slow deliberate movements. Her mouth opened wide enough to be an invitation. The movement was slow at first; offering them a mere taste of the other with a small lick from the tip of their tongues. But at his instigation the pressure deepened. Until their mouths opened completely and the consequent circular movement became their universe.

The chemistry between them was good. So good that he was having a hard time remembering that she'd just had a baby and probably wasn't up to much.

But that only lasted until said baby started to cry and brought them back to reality.

He stood pressed up against Jen's back as she leaned over the carrier and scooped Imogen out.

"Look ..." she said as she moved the rattle from side to side – even though she knew the baby couldn't comprehend.

Holding her tight, she leaned back against Jethro's chest. Enjoying the security of his strong arms around them both until she finally turned to face him.

"You know ..." Jen whispered conspiratorially to Imogen as he placed a kiss to the baby's head and then to hers. "I think we may have to keep him."

Author's note:

And there you have it. I finished it *stares at screen in utter shock* even if it took me over a year to do so. This was the hardest story I have ever had to write because I was totally out of my element and struggling all the way through.

Merry Christmas everyone – and thanks for sticking with me on this!

Hope you enjoyed it.