Seasons Come, Seasons Go
- Now Is The Winter Of Our Discontent -

Now is the winter of our discontent - Richard III, Act 1, scene 1.

It hadn't been going well. True, the months to begin with were perfect, or as near to perfect that they would allow it to be. The first couple of months had been spent rediscovering their feelings for each other, rediscovering what the other enjoyed, both in bed and out. But after a while the gaps had begun to show, the cracks expanding, getting harder to hide until one day, one cold miserable day, they couldn't hide them anymore.

They didn't talk anymore, that's what angered her the most. They didn't even argue anymore, it was an uncomfortable silence that permeated through everything, became so loud that she couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm leaving." She pronounced, expecting less of a reaction than she got, expecting him to absently nod his head, his eyes glued as usual to the hull of whichever boat occupied the basement at the time. What she got was a glare, his blue eyes flashing in the semi darkness, because there was something in the way that she said it that made him realized that she wasn't just leaving for the evening, because they hadn't spent more than 3 nights away from each other for moths now.

"If that's what you want." He replied, anger dripping off his words, making it almost impossible for her to move from the step.

"No...but it's what we need." She answered. He shook his head and she saw his hands clench by his side. She cocked her head at him, trying to see what it was he so obviously wanted to say. She looked questioningly at him. He turned away from her and continued working on the boat. She let out a bitter laugh, wishing that once he would surprise her, and walked out of the basement, out of the front door, out of his home.

---

He had spent that last week going over that conversation, if you could call it a conversation, in his mind, trying desperately to recall anything that might have indicated that she was coming back. Which ever way he looked at it though, it was the same, she had gone, he had driven yet another woman out of his life, except this time her was determined to get her back.

She had spent the last week holed up in MTAC, trying to avoid the overwhelming presence of him that seemed to be lurking around every corner of NCIS. It was so unfair, she couldn't get away from it, it was even in the elevators and once she almost swore that he was standing too close behind her. It had taken all of her strength to leave him, and truth be told she didn't think she had enough to stop her from going back to him.

Please God, no, she silently willed the elevator not to stop on his floor, her prayer, however, was not answered and the carriage juddered to a halt, the doors opened and Jen braced herself. He stood there, foul look on his face, which turned to surprise and then anger again as he noticed her. She caught his internal debate about whether to step into the elevator or not and willed him to choose not. Someone upstairs was definitely against her today, because he stepped into the car and the door closed behind him.

"Director." He acknowledged.

"Agent Gibbs." She replied before lapsing into uncomfortable silence. The elevator stopped suddenly and the lights dimmed. She looked around at him and he continued to face the door, not looking at her. She refused to play his game so kept her mouth shut, determined not to ask what he was playing at. After a few minutes of silence, frustrated at his little game he wanted to play, she leant over to flick the switch but he grabbed her wrist, his middle finger unconsciously rubbing over her pulse point, till he caught himself and pulled sharply away from her. She crossed her arms in front of her, whether to protect herself or to look stern, she wasn't quite sure.

"Is there any reason why we are standing in the dark and in silence Jethro?" She asked her voice icy with irritation. He shot her a quick glare.

"Just...give me a minute will you?" He snapped, rubbing his hand over his face.

"A minute? For what? For you to have a quick midlife crisis in the elevators, or a quiet think? I don't have time for this, I have work to do Jethro." She moved towards the switch and once again he grabbed her wrist.

"God dammed it Jen!" The ferocity in his voice made her freeze for a second, before she wrenched her hand away from his distracting touch.

"What the hell do you think you are playing at Jethro?" She demanded, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him. He turned sharply towards her.

"Come home Jen." It wasn't a request. She stared at him for a few seconds, searching his blue eyes for something to let her deny him. She broke eye contact and gently shook her head, automatically reaching out comfort to him before realizing and pulling her hand back.

"I can't Jethro." She replied quietly, flicking the switch, causing them to both stumble slightly at the sudden unexpected movement. Jen willed the tears to stay as the elevators rode to their destination and only when she exited and gave him a long look, did she blinked the tears out only to angrily swipe them away.

---

You tried, he told himself. It wasn't enough, said his other half, you didn't try hard enough. One demand is not going to make her come running back. He rubbed his temples with one hand, the other clenching around the comforting caffeine fix in his hand. He walked into Abby's lab, bracing himself for whichever tangent she was going to go off on this time.

"Gibbs!" His arms were suddenly full of bouncing Abby.

"Abs?" He detached himself from the death grip she had around his neck and looked at her. She searched his face and sighed.

"Honestly Gibbs, this is getting ridiculous." She punched him on the shoulder. "You are both miserable and neither of you will do anything about it. Man up, Boss man and sort it out!" She poked him in the forehead and twirled away from him, her pigtails bouncing.

"Abby..." He began, only to be stopped by Abby's finger against his lips.

"No, Gibbs, no more talking until you sort it out, a angry you is bad enough, I can't deal with an angry Director as well." She pushed him out of her lab and waved cheerily as the door slid shut.

I could get you fired, he signed at her through the door. She stuck her tongue out him.

Yeah, but you wouldn't, she signed back, Cause you know I'm right, she spun around, away from him.

---

Jen paced her office, glass of bourbon in one hand, the other clenching at her side. This was getting stupid; she was feeling like a love sick teenager. She couldn't decide if she wanted to go back to him or if she wanted a chance to stand on her own. She had had a chance before, and enjoyed it to an extent but being with him had made everything complete. On the other hand, going back to him would be admitting defeat, something which her stubborness rarely let her do. She stopped pacing and drained her glass; she needed all the courage she could get because she had made up her mind.

---

He froze, sanding block in his hand, straining to hear any other noises from upstairs. The front door slammed and the basement steps creaked. He recognized the legs in an instant and resisted meeting her halfway. She paused on the bend of the stairs and looked at him. He looked back. She broke eye contact first, holding up a bag of take out.

"Hungry?" She asked.

"Starving." He replied.

"Good, there's lots here." She began unloading the bag.

"You staying?" He asked, she couldn't miss the hope in his voice and knew he wasn't just talking about staying for dinner.

"I'm staying." She replied, letting herself be pulled into a kiss.

"Good." He murmured against her lips.

Journeys end in lovers meeting – Twelfth Night, Act 2, scene 3.