Author: Morgan72uk

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, don't have any money - and I probably shouldn't be doing this.

A/N - this isn't fluff! And I've been told it's sad.

Ice Queen

Her disappearance had caused a quiet ripple of panic throughout the Agency. Director's of armed Federal agencies were not, after all, supposed to slip out into the chill air of a DC evening and vanish without their security detail, without telling anyone where they were going. Although the frequency with which Jen Shepard slipped the bounds of her protection detail should have meant that those charged with her security were more than prepared for such an eventuality.

The panic subsided somewhat as they triangulated the location of her cell and, when it turned out it was an out of the way bar, Gibbs had intervened. He'd managed to hold the troops at bay for long enough to see if she was actually there and having established that she was in fact sitting at the bar had stood down the protection detail – intending to take care of this problem himself.

The previous year he'd been concerned about her drinking and, though she seemed to have regained control he wasn't sure what a difficult week would push her to – and it hadn't been the best of weeks.

He'd contributed to her woes of course; their current case had required her to smooth over a spat with Metro PD and work some of her contacts with Justice to get the information they needed. But he doubted that was what had driven her out of the building and into the night. She'd also endured a Senate Hearing and overseen an operation in a time zone that involved being in MTAC until after 2am.

When he'd seen her earlier that day he'd thought she looked exhausted – and perhaps it hadn't been entirely wise to tell her so.

The press was enjoying the Senate Hearings – her age and her gender drew their attention and he suspected it didn't hurt that she looked the way she did. The questioning had been tough, bruising even, but she hadn't blinked, hadn't lost her cool. Commenting afterwards one of the Senators had described her demeanour as icy, already people were referring to her as the Ice Queen and the name showed every sign of sticking. It was too much to hope that she didn't know – especially when it was also plastered all over the gossip columns.

He had to admit she'd picked her bolt-hole with care. It was out of the way, low key but with an elegance that suited her. The bar tender was attentive, talking to her quietly, raising a smile that he knew hadn't quite reached her eyes.

She wasn't drinking bourbon, she'd been toying with a glass of wine for the half an hour he'd been here and though he wasn't sure what she might have had before he got here he wasn't worried anymore that she was here to get drunk. Her back was to the door and she'd given no sign that she was aware of his presence – but he wouldn't have bet that she didn't know he was there. He'd slid into a booth where he could watch her. Not exactly sure why he was staying out of her way, knowing only that her body language was screaming at everyone to steer clear - which was probably the only thing stopping most of the men in the bar from hitting on her.

The TV over the bar was playing ZNN – well, it was DC, close enough to the Hill to attract a political crowd – at least those who wanted to do their drinking out of sight of many of their colleagues. The familiarity of the bar tender made him wonder if she'd been here before – but it might just be that he recognised a woman in need of a confident when he saw one.

Gibbs couldn't fault the interpretation of her mood – he also knew her well enough to be sure that she wouldn't be confiding anything to a stranger – possibly not to anyone.

Her gaze lifted to the screen and as he watched, her expression froze; they were playing film of her Senate appearance. Abruptly she dropped a handful of bills onto the bar, slid off the barstool and strode out of the bar – giving several men whiplash as she swept past.

He didn't run to catch up with her, keeping her in his sights as she walked rapidly along the street – wondering where she was heading this time, not entirely sure she knew. They walked for a few minutes – it was an up town neighbourhood, which didn't mean he thought it was a good idea for her to be out here on her own. A problem she solved by pivoting on her heel and turning to face him. "What are you doing Jethro?"

"You ditched your protection detail Jen, someone had to come and find you."

"You found me in the bar."

"It looked as though you wanted to be on your own." He wasn't sure if it was much of an explanation for why he'd kept his distance and then followed her rather than announcing his presence.

"It doesn't count if I know there's someone there. And there's always someone there."

"You chose to become Director – it goes with the territory."

"I know!" She hissed, suddenly full of anger, "I know damn it!" The rage left her as quickly as it had come – and she slumped back against a wall. "The Ice Queen loses her cool," she said ruefully, "perhaps we should call a press conference."

"What's going on Jen?" This wasn't like her, but perhaps that was the point.

"I just wanted a chance to clear my head." Her reply was barely a whisper and for a moment he was sure she'd forgotten he was there – but as he took a step closer she looked up at him. "I don't like myself very much at the moment Jethro – don't pay too much attention."

"I always pay attention Jen, might not always seem like it, but I do."

"I'm not ready to go back," she said and he nodded, thinking that what she needed was for him to put her into a cab and take her home. But that didn't seem to be on the cards right now.

"Want to walk some more?" She nodded and shoved her hands deep into her pockets. As they walked, side-by-side this time, he thought about what she'd said. "This about the Senate hearing?"

"It's about a lot of things." He glanced over at her, not liking the hollows under her cheekbones, the dark circles under her eyes. "Mostly it's about me. I'm tired of being careful, of having to think about what I say before I say it, of having to dissemble and negotiate. I knew it would be like this, I didn't know it would be so – relentless." This time he didn't tell her that it went with her job, didn't think he needed to. And he didn't like seeing her like this, as though the darkness had swept her away and she hadn't even tried to hold on. "When I was undercover I used to worry that I'd lose myself – slip into some character and never find my way out. But that never happened and now I've lost myself anyway."

"You haven't lost yourself," he told her gently.

"Don't be nice to me now Jethro – I'm hanging on by a thread here, I can't…" He was startled to see the tears that were beaded on her lashes when she looked over at him. She tried to ward him off, but he easily ducked around her raised arm and drew her to him.

She had so much strength, was so used to dealing with everything herself and even now, her every instinct demanded that she push him away. But she was no match for his gentleness.

She sank into his embrace, his warmth drawing her in, offering a support she didn't think she deserved. She shut her eyes, willing the tears not to fall – but they were disobedient and a few escaped her anyway. She didn't want him to know, but the hand rubbing circles on her back told her that the attempt was futile.

"What's going on Jenny?" he spoke her name the way he did on the rare occasions when he was worried about her and if she could have found an answer for him she would have given it – but she couldn't explain.

The Senate Hearing had been bruising – but she'd survived, acquitted herself well even. The accusation that she was an Ice Queen had stung – but she'd been called far worse. She'd been working long hours to prepare for the Hearing and to keep on top of the rest of the work of the Agency. Yesterday's mission had gone well and even Jethro's propensity to cause problems with other agencies had been handled without ramifications. Looking in from the outside she gave every appearance of being on top of her game.

So why was she standing here, with one of her own Agent's holding her as she tried very hard not to cry?

But it wasn't just any Agent and she knew she wouldn't be standing here like this if anyone else had come after her.

She backed away, shivering as his thumb brushed the last, errant tear from her cheek.

The heat flared between them at his touch and for a moment she was floored – because this was dead and buried, he didn't feel this way about her any longer, she was sure of it.

The subtle attempts she'd made to test the waters when Hollis Mann departed had been rebuffed, or at least avoided. She'd got the message and told herself to leave well enough alone, to be content with the fact that they were getting on better than they had been a year ago. In her darker moments she'd known that it was too much to ask to rediscover feelings she'd destroyed for the good of her career years before.

"How about some coffee?" he said and the predictability coupled with the absence of emotion in his voice convinced her that she'd been mistaken – that he was worried about her and nothing more. She ducked his gaze, not wanting him to see something that might be disappointment in her eyes. She hadn't been sleeping well and knew that caffeine was probably the last thing she needed. But still she nodded and let him lead the way in a search for coffee.

The coffee shop he found was filled with what were probably students – they were clustered around tables, pouring over computers, holding earnest discussions. There were a few curious glances directed in their direction and since her face had been all over the ZNN for the last few days he couldn't discount the possibility that she'd be recognised. Which meant that it might be a good idea to get their coffee to go.

He watched Jen look around, her expression hollow and he knew that she was thinking about being that young. He imagined her full of self-belief and a burning desire to prove herself. At the time she probably hadn't realised just how uncomplicated her life was and now here she was with a life that was far from simple and it was suffocating her.

"I can't remember the last time I just sat in a coffee shop and had a conversation without worrying about where I ought to be or what I ought to be doing." She said quietly. "I can't stay in here Jethro – I'm too jealous of them."

She turned away from him, walking back outside, making him worry that she was going to walk away again. But she didn't go far, settling into a chair in the small seating area outside. He watched her as he waited for the coffee, head resting against the back of the chair, eyes closed – he doubted that she was aware just how well the position displayed the long, elegant line of her body. He couldn't stop looking at her.

Her eyes fluttered open when he set the coffee cup down in front of her, but the smile didn't quite meet her eyes. "Thanks."

"You need to get some rest Jen." She nodded and took a long sip of her coffee – obviously deciding that some form of reassurance was required.

"Don't worry Jethro, everything will be back to normal tomorrow." And if it wasn't she'd make it look that way, he concluded.

The sound of his cell prevented him from having to reply, "Gibbs," he listened for a moment and then, reluctantly told the caller where he was. When he looked over at Jen she sighed, as though she wasn't surprised that her security detail had demanded to know their location.

"I'm amazed you managed to hold them off for this long," she said, as he closed the phone.

"It wasn't easy. They'll be here in a couple of minutes." She nodded and got to her feet, stepping away from him, arms wrapped around herself. "If you're cold we can wait indoors."

"Ice Queens don't feel the cold," she told him, "in fact they don't feel anything." He could have told her that having seen her temper at first hand he knew she wasn't an ice queen. She'd been passionate and determined from the very first moment he'd met her and in the years since then, though she'd become more disciplined, more careful, her light hadn't dimmed. He could have told her that only someone who blazed with passion could be so effected by having to think before speaking, to moderate her tone. But it was easier to show her.

The only time she'd come to life all night was when he'd touched her. She probably thought, or hoped, he hadn't noticed but while it might have been simpler if he hadn't, he wasn't going to pretend that he didn't know what could reach her.

He reached her side in a couple of strides, grasping her arm and spinning her towards him. He could have brought his mouth crashing down onto hers – but he didn't want that. Instead his hands framed her face and he kissed her with more gentleness than he believed himself capable of.

He sensed her internal struggle, the tinge of hunger in her kiss and underneath that the despair, which made him expect that at any moment she would pull away. But she didn't and the two of them existed only in that moment – until a wolf whistle and a round of applause shattered their bubble and had them springing guiltily apart. He thought a lot about shooting the group who'd exited the coffee shop and caught them, but the expression on her face made him forget all about them.

"Jen?"

"No," her fingers drifted over the lapel of his coat – as though she couldn't stop herself from touching him despite what she was saying. "It's not the answer Jethro. You don't know how much I wish it could be."

A different man would have argued, might even have persuaded her to take what she needed from him tonight and worry about everything else in the morning. But he couldn't find the words and even if he had found them he wasn't sure it would have made any difference. He knew her, knew that she had too much pride to come to his bed like this.

He caught hold of her hand, intending to pull her back to him, to offer her what comfort he could. But the dark car that rounded the corner made that plan impossible and he dropped her hand, taking a step away from her to a more appropriate distance.

"I'm sorry," she breathed and he wished he knew what she was apologising for, but she was already walking away, the identity of the Director of NCIS settling on her with every step she took. He could see her struggling against the weight of it – and even now he admired her determination to continue with a role that, if it didn't destroy her, would take everything she had to give – and still demand more.

He watched as she got into the car without even acknowledging the agent who opened the door for her. But as the vehicle pulled away from the kerb she turned her head to look at him, her expression bleak.

He couldn't save her, but he refused to believe that she wouldn't find a way save herself.

The End