Nikki (nakeisha) wrote in ncis_gibbsducky,
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Fiction. Paris And Jenn Shepard

TITLE: Paris And Jenn Shepard
AUTHOR: Ashleigh Anpilova
PAIRING: Leroy Jethro Gibbs/Donald 'Ducky' Mallard
GENRE: Slash
SUB-GENRE: Established Relationship
SUMMARY: A companion piece to: As If It Were Yesterday. Gibbs recalls his time in Paris with Jenn Shepard.
PROMPT: 30_memories - Figuring
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. I merely borrow them from time to time.



Paris and Jenn Shepard.

That’s one memory I’d love to forget.

It was the worst time of my life.

Biggest mistake of my life.

Could’ve cost me everything.

Maybe it should’ve cost me everything.

Career. Respect. Trust. Pride.  Maybe even my life. And most of all - Ducky.

God, I was a bastard. I often am, but this time . . .

Still don’t really know why he forgave me, not even after all these years. Sometimes think he doesn’t either. I think, no I know, I came the closest I’ve ever done to losing him.

He never said anything, well not in so many words. But Duck doesn’t need to talk, at least not to me, to speak volumes. His eyes told me exactly how he was feeling; and his voice did too. But mostly it was his eyes.

Oh, Duck. Why? Why did I do it?

I know that Diane and I were having a bad time, but what did I expect? After all I only married her, just like I did Marie and Alice, to try to force Ducky’s hand. Told you I was a bastard. People don’t think it, but I’m not the cock-sure, infallible bastard, I appear to be. I just don’t show it, except to Ducky.

Always thought I wasn’t good enough for Ducky. Christ, the man went to Eton, and got the highest degree possible in Medicine from Edinburgh University, which is one of the best Medical schools in the country. He’s got two other degrees as well, which he did for ‘enjoyment’. He speaks God knows how many languages; has been to more places than I could dream of, seen and done more things than I ever could. Oh, and he’s rich. I don’t just mean wealthy or well off - Duck’s rich! He loves opera, classical music, art, literature, and knows all about them all. What could I offer him?

So because I was scared of losing him, I tried to get him to prove what I already knew: how much he loved me. But it backfired. Why? Because Duck’s more honorable than that. Ducky does not play games, does not indulge in emotional blackmail.

So Diane was cheating on me, and had been for months. Oh, I knew, and, no, I didn’t like it, but . . . Damnit, we’d been married less than three months when I first found out. I couldn’t let another marriage end so soon. I have my pride. Or so I thought. Or at least I did, until Paris.

Anyway, given that I was involved with Ducky, and had been for over two decades, it was rather hypocritical of me to get upset by her cheating on me. Except it was different; Duck and I loved one another; we made love. She simply screwed around; don’t think she even bothered to find out their names half the time.

Thus I can’t blame her; can’t blame anyone but me. I had Ducky, what more did I want? Nothing. I was happy with Ducky, and didn’t really care what Diane was doing, or who was doing Diane.

Then Jenn and I got sent to Paris. And everything changed.

Ah, Paris, I went there with Ducky once. It was the time he pushed the French flic off a cliff. We had a wonderful time. We . . . But now I’m doing a Ducky and wandering from the subject.

One minute Jenn and I were coworkers, partners even, the next . . .

The next I couldn’t keep my hands and mouth off her. I sometimes think she fed me something. Don’t know what, or how, or where she got it from, but . . . I reckon she drugged me. I can’t explain it any other way. I put sex before the case. God, I’d string DiNozzo up for doing even a quarter of what I did. And I let her get away with convincing me that she’d killed that bloke by mistake. She didn’t; I know that. I knew it then; my gut told me. But . . . I was caught. Caught in her trap, her web. I . . .

I screwed up - big time. As I told Duck, lady luck must have been on my side; must have been looking out for me, because, if she hadn’t been, I’d be dead, or dragged over the carpet so badly for the cock up, that I’d have no choice but to resign. And I’d have lost Ducky. Could have stood being fired; could have stood losing my pride, people’s trust in me, people’s respect, hell, could’ve even stood losing my life. But I couldn’t have survived losing Ducky. Always knew that. Always knew . . . So why did I do it?

Drugged. Has to be the answer. Has to be. It’s the only option that makes sense.

Even now, years later, as I remember what I did, how I behaved, it can make my blood run cold. Can make me shiver. Make me feel sick. Make me afraid.

Paris and Jenn Shepard.

That’s one memory I’d love to forget.

Tags: !creator: nakeisha, fiction
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