NCIS : Gibbs/Ducky : Jennys Revenge

JENNY'S REVENGE

Ashleigh Anpilova

The third story in the Paris Series.

Jennifer Shepard tells the truth of what happened when she and Jethro went to Paris.

An established relationship story.

Written: September 2006. Word count: 716.

Revenge is sweet.

Paris was my revenge.

My revenge for him not wanting me.

I knew about Diane; everyone did, even if no one was prepared to say anything. And if a wife cheats on her husband, then there's a good chance the husband will do the same. Or so I thought.

I was attracted to Jethro from the moment I met him. And I was determined to get him into my bed. I flirted with him, gave him the most blatant signals a woman can give a man, but nothing. He ignored them. He didn't treat me any differently from how he treated the rest of his agents.

And I couldn't have that. No man ignores me like that.

I get what I want. Always have. I just, for once, wasn't sure how to get it. To get him.

And then we were sent to Paris; and that was when I knew I had my chance. Paris the city of lovers. He was going to be mine.

However, I had to be sure. So I made sure.

I had a friend, a brilliant man, a scientist. Maybe not overly scrupulous, but who cared? I didn't.

God it was easy. So easy. Like feeding candy to a baby.

Despite my friend's brilliance, I wasn't certain it would work. How could a simple colorless liquid, cause someone to fall in love, or lust, with you? I'd never even believed in love potions as a child.

But it did work.

God did it work.

A dose a day, in his first cup of coffee and . . . I've got stamina, but he exhausted me at times.

I'd never know a man like him. And a decade later, I've still never found one.

He even put screwing me before the case we were working on. Leroy Jethro Gibbs, the most professional agent in the business, let his hormones overtake his duty. He even let me get away with killing a man, and he believed me when I said it'd been an accident. It wasn't. I knew him, you see, from my past, and he knew things about me that, let's say I didn't want anyone else to know. So I shot him. It was easy. So easy it still haunts my dreams.

My friend warned me that the stuff could become addictive, and that I had to take care. Besides, I knew that once we got back to Washington, I couldn't keep on feeding it to him. So I decided that would be the time to get my ultimate revenge. I'd dump him, send him a ‘Dear John' letter, and watch him try to get me back. I believed that it wasn't just the drug that kept him coming back. I felt sure that he wanted me, would want me, anyway.

Except it didn't work.

Oh, I dumped him. I sent him the letter. Found out it went better than I'd ever hoped for - in one respect. Diane opened it. She smashed him over the head with a baseball bat and demanded a divorce.

But he didn't try to get me back. He . . .

I always told him he should lock his front door.

I don't think he ever knew I'd walked in on them. Well he was rather wrapped up in what he was doing, his special agent's instinct seemed to have been turned off.

For a second I hated him. Truly hated him.

I was going to destroy him. Destroy both of them, career-wise at least. I even had visions of getting Ducky struck off as a doctor.

I went home, furious. Livid. ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned', covered the plans I made.

But then . . .

Then I realized I couldn't do it.

I couldn't.

I didn't know why. I still don't.

Maybe somewhere down the line I'd fallen in love with him.

Maybe . . .

Maybe I wasn't quite the bitch I thought I was.

So instead I left NCIS.

Should have stayed away too. But I didn't. The offer of Directorship was too tempting.