Title: Old Habits

Author: Morgan72uk

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I definitely shouldn't be doing this... sorry.

A/N - so, I wrote this as a while ago and its been sitting there for a while, waiting for me to post it. I think the reason I am ambivalent about it is, it's not quite romance, not quite angsty and I am not sure what it says about the state of their relationship.

Old Habits

The Director of NCIS took a breath of the sharp night air, relishing the cold and the freedom. The party was noisy and she was in demand; but she was also tired and in need of some peace and quiet. She hadn't strayed far; she could still hear the clink of crockery and the subdued murmur of voices. But, the craving for a moment to herself, away from the madness, had been surprisingly strong and though it was uncharacteristically self-indulgent she had slipped out of the room with barely a backward glance.

Her quest for some privacy had taken her onto a small balcony over-looking the hotel's ornamental gardens. Yet even while she admired the effect of the lights twinkling across the grounds, the agent in her was assessing just how easy a mark she was for a sniper right now. Despite the risk analysis she leant forward and gripped the railing of the balcony – closing her eyes as the stillness seeped into her. It was that little bit of devilry which had got her into trouble from time to time during her career; or had helped ensure she could see beyond the rule book – which was the explanation she preferred.

She was very aware that this stolen moment couldn't last, wouldn't be allowed to last. Her own sense of responsibility would demand that she return, even if it required spending another half an hour politely fending off the advances of a very senior diplomat who was clearly enjoying himself away from the restrictive presence of his formidable wife.

She'd handled the situation; making it clear that she wasn't interested, though he had been irritatingly persistent and it wasn't as though she could make a scene. But it hadn't done much to make her relax either – dealing with men who should know better than to make passes at her wasn't conducive to having a good time. And then there was the rather obvious fact that he probably wouldn't have tried at all if she'd been here with someone. Her social life had been pitiful of late – something she was feeling just a little vulnerable about and this hadn't helped.

No one had warned her what this job would do to her personal life. Strange, that it would bother her to sacrifice it now, after years in the field and under cover. But along with the position and the influence had come a security detail, drivers and a house full of monitoring devices. All of which were difficult to explain to prospective lovers. There was really no escape from it – though at times she made a valiant effort.

It was those attempts that had resulted in the ever-tightening security – the more often she successfully slipped away from her detail, the harder they tried to prevent her from repeating the trick. Her escape in Paris had gone down particularly badly – it had been much harder to find her when she'd disappeared on foreign soil.

As a game she might find it amusing, but it wasn't a game and she felt as though she was being suffocated. As a result it was far easier to concentrate on doing her job; there was more than enough work to fill her days and her nights. Mostly she was satisfied, but every now and again the rest of the world caught up with her and she remembered that she had never intended to become so absorbed by her role as Director that there was no room for anyone else. But, that was exactly what had happened and standing here in the chill night air, she wasn't sure what to do about it.

Knowing just how closely she was watched these days, she wasn't remotely surprised at the sound of the doors opening behind her, though when she looked over her shoulder the identity of the agent who had come to find her was a surprise. "You need to come inside Director."

"Can't I even have a moment to myself Jethro?"

"You can have all the moments you like – just not out here." When she didn't move, he added, "I'm not kidding Jen." She conceded the point and took one last look at the gardens and the night sky before preparing to return to fray. But once she was safely inside, the touch of his hand to her wrist stilled her. He tilted his head in the opposite direction and she followed him through a discrete doorway.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see." Her curiosity was thoroughly peaked as he led her along what was clearly a service corridor. "I think DiNozzo was seriously considering coming to your rescue back there." She hadn't expected him to notice what was going on before she left the party and the fact that he had was slightly disturbing. She didn't want him to think that somehow she'd initiated the encounter – or that she welcomed it.

"I thought you'd have beaten the impulse to chivalry out of him by now."

"Still trying." He pushed open a set of doors and she realised that he'd led her to a small, richly furnished function room – complete with a grand piano, sparkling chandeliers and windows that led out onto another balcony.

"Been doing some snooping around?" He shrugged in response to her question, though she thought he seemed uncomfortable. His expression was guarded – lately he'd been looking that way a lot and, now she came to think about it, this was the longest she'd been alone with him for weeks. The rumour mill, which of course she never listened to, said that the end of his relationship with Hollis Mann had been quiet but painful. So – it wasn't a surprise that he was keeping his distance from everyone.

She let him off the hook – turning her attention back to the room. It wasn't being used; the piano was shrouded in dust covers, chairs and tables pushed into the corners. Although, when she looked a little closer she could see a couch with some blankets on it, empty champagne glasses on the floor. "I think we've found someone's secret love nest." When he didn't answer she turned back to him. "Jethro?" His expression was unreadable and though she tried to meet his eyes he looked away.

"I'm going to stand outside the door, give you a couple of minutes to yourself – Ziva and Tony are covering for you, they're telling people you're taking an important call." He pointed towards the windows. "Stay off this balcony."

"I'll behave," he turned to go, but some impulse made her call him back. "Do you want to tell me why you brought me here?"

It was the one question he didn't want to have to answer. And, even if he had been inclined to respond he wasn't clear about what to say. He didn't know how to admit to her that he had no idea what he was doing, never knew what he was doing when it came to her.

He'd watched her work her way around the cocktail party; saw the men who followed her with their eyes, watched the impression she created. He was no more immune to that impression than they were; the black dress she wore skimmed her curves and something in its design was just a little less conservative than anyone else would even think of wearing to an event like this. He could accuse her of a lot of things, and when he was mad with her he did, but the politics and bureaucracy hadn't entirely suppressed her personality. Which probably explained why she spent so much time fighting off men.

He'd known that she would deal with her admirer with diplomacy and tact – and, unlike DiNozzo, he had been quite sure that she didn't require a rescuer. But shortly afterwards she'd slipped discretely away from the party and there had been something in her expression, enough of a something to persuade him to follow her. When he'd found her on the balcony with her eyes were closed, her head lifted to the stars, breathing in the night it was all he could do not to reach out and touch her, run his fingertips across her back, follow the path with his lips.

But, of course, he wasn't going to tell her that.

"I thought you could use the break," she quirked an eyebrow, unconvinced, but he didn't know what else to say to her. The truth was he'd been thinking about her since his split with Hollis, thinking about her a little too much. And he'd never meant for it to go beyond that – still didn't.

"Thank you," the words seemed to catch her as much by surprise as they did him. Startled and suddenly aware that they were alone and standing just a little too close together, their eyes met and they both froze. The companionable, almost friendly moment disappeared in a fizzle of heat and chemistry; his eyes flicked to her lips; soft, wet, inviting. This was a very bad idea. Or a very good one.

Honestly, he couldn't tell which of them moved first, all he knew was that one minute he was looking at her, thinking about maybe kissing her and the next he was wrapped up in her. His hands in her hair, their mouths locked, bodies pressed together, urgency spiralling through them. She tasted sinfully good and the quiet voice at the back of his head warning him against this was easily silenced. The feel of her hands sliding under his jacket and up over his back was almost enough to make him forget where they were.

But she remembered.

Jen pulled back, gasping at the feeling of loss as she brought their kiss to an abrupt end. Her heart was hammering so loudly she was surprised he couldn't hear it and she wasn't completely sure that her legs would support her. She knew she should put more distance between them – that it was a mistake to be standing here in his arms; but right now pulling away wasn't an option.

"We can't do this," she looked up, trying to read his expression. When it came to Gibbs you had to know what to look for, sometimes she did – and on other occasions her 'Gibbs interpreting ability' deserted her entirely. Was that a flicker of disappointment in his eyes - or just wishful thinking? His hands had been resting lightly on her hips, but at her words they dropped away. She knew he was going to step back from her and that she should let him go so they could start pretending this moment had never happened. And maybe, on a different day that was exactly what she would have done.

"We can't do this – here," she touched her fingertips to his cheek and watched the slight smile that curved across his lips at her words. He leant forward and brushed his lips against hers once more; slowly, gently - testing her response. She gave in, just for a moment and the kiss was more emotional than perhaps either of them was prepared for. But this time he was the one who ended it.

"Can we talk about this later?"

"Just talk?" She queried, not believing for a single moment that was what was on the agenda. She didn't want to be his rebound, but things between them were inherently complicated already and she wasn't averse to seeking comfort with someone she trusted.

"Hell Jen, I don't know." She smiled at that, so genuinely Gibbs, "you think I planned this?"

"I think you're following your damn gut."

"It works for me." She could have reminded him that three divorces, their own history and the demise of his recent relationship with Hollis said otherwise – but what good would that do?

"I know." This was one of those grey areas, the ones no one talked about but everyone knew existed. There was no absolute rule that prevented the Director from becoming involved with one of her own agents – but it didn't take much to realise why such an involvement could be disastrous. So, why was she standing here considering this? "I'm going to be here for a couple more hours. Coffee, later?"

He nodded and before her eyes Agent Gibbs slid back into place; professional, distant – a little austere. "I'll give you that moment now."

She watched him leave and then turned, catching sight of her reflection in a large, ornate mirror. She almost didn't recognise herself; lips slightly swollen from his kisses, hair a mess from where he'd run his fingers through it. She took a step closer to the mirror to try to repair the damage - she looked flushed and radiant; it suited her.

He'd made her feel good, made her feel desired and she'd needed that tonight. But a stolen moment in an empty room was very different to a late night visit to her house. She didn't know what he was looking for and she knew herself well enough to recognise that in this situation their needs might be incompatible. So why hadn't she stopped this when she had the chance? What the hell had she got herself into?

TBC