A/N: This was written for olivia_j for the NCIS ficathon exchange and is a slightly different take on how Ziva and Jenny met and the development of their relationship from there. Per canon, Cairo is mentioned, but I have changed things up a bit. The bulk of the relationship aspect of this story actually takes place in Israel, before and after the Cairo op. We do not know a lot about Ziva and Jenny's time together in Cairo from the show (other than Ziva saved her life there), but for purposes of this fic, I have decided that they met while assigned to work together on a joint Mossad-NCIS mission that takes place in Cairo. There will be two more chapters after this and the next chapter will take the rating up to M.
Special thanks to gosgirl, bamacrush and IronIsraeliButterfly for their input and enthusiastic encouragement. =)
And last, but certainly not least, this posting is dedicated to MollyGibbs101 and kaelleigh who have been rooting - and waiting - for this story to be written for a very long time. I hope you find it worth the wait, my friends.
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to NCIS or CBS, but wouldn't mind if I did - not one little bit. Original characters are all mine.
Three weeks ago…
NCIS Special Agent Jennifer Shepard arrived in Tel Aviv, Israel on what may have been the hottest day of the year. Her El-Al flight into Ben Gurion International Airport had been long, but uneventful. Fortunately, most of her hours in the air had been spent overnight from the standpoint of the time zone from which she had come and she had long ago perfected the art of getting some sleep on planes. To aid in that, she had spent her own money to upgrade herself to first class. After all, the money she had been left by her parents was mostly just sitting in a bank except to keep up the townhouse in D.C. that she had also inherited, so why not be comfortable on the long flight? Besides, she had a feeling she wouldn't be getting much sleep over the next couple of weeks.
She had been working with the counterterrorism arm of NCIS for several months now, but this was the first time she was going to be part of a joint operation between her agency and Mossad, the intelligence agency for the state of Israel. Mossad had learned that Hezbollah had developed a sympathetic contact in the U.S. Navy and that an attack in Mediterranean waters on that branch of the American military was being planned.
Operation Bright Star, the biennial joint military exercise between the United States and Egypt, was set to occur soon. That would seemingly provide an opportune time for an exchange of information between Hezbollah and their contact – and for an attempt to flush out the American traitor. The intel collected so far had narrowed the likely contact to a particular ship, but not to a specific person.
It was early afternoon in Israel. Jenny walked through the enclosed hallway leading from the plane and began looking for the Mossad contact she had been assured would meet her. Supposedly that person had been given a picture of her, but the same courtesy had not been extended to the NCIS agent.
Very bright sunlight shone through the windows hinting at the intense heat outside as her eyes scanned the crowd looking for someone who might be on the lookout for her. Suddenly, her gaze was arrested by the sight of a striking woman with long curls that reminded her of rich, dark chocolate. The woman was wearing slim black pants, a smooth white shirt and a short black jacket with a Mandarin collar. Dark aviator sunglasses prevented Jenny from seeing her eyes, but something about the woman caused a zing of awareness to sizzle through Jen's body, as though it somehow recognized the dark-haired beauty.
The woman appeared younger than Jenny, but she had presence – boy, did she have presence. Something about her commanded respect, though there was nothing outwardly obvious advertising why that would be the case.
The subject of her gaze slowly removed her dark glasses and Jenny Shepard's world was reduced to a pair of fathomless whiskey-brown eyes that appeared to see right into her innermost thoughts and dreams. Even the purpose of her trip receded to the far edges of her consciousness as all she could do for a moment was stare back at the woman who had captured her with only her eyes.
There was obvious appreciation in those brown eyes as the other woman took in Jenny's long red hair, trim hourglass figure and lovely features.
A small knowing smirk kicked up the corner of the woman's lips, which brought Jenny out of her stupor. She looked around self-consciously to see if anyone had noticed that she was standing stock-still in the middle of an airport lounge, practically with her mouth hanging open. To her relief, no one else seemed to have noticed her. When she looked back to where the woman had been standing, she felt an inexplicable sense of loss to discover that she was gone.
Get a grip, Shepard she mentally shook herself. You are here on business – serious business – and you need to keep your head in the game and not on a beautiful woman ... not even one that somehow seemed to speak to her soul without saying a word. Jenny scoffed at herself. She did not typically even think like that. Experience had led her to the opinion that relationships did not mix with her current position, nor with her future aspirations within the agency. This was no time to start thinking differently.
Taking herself in hand, Jen began looking around again for her contact. She never heard anyone come up behind her, but she froze as a sultry, attractively accented voice spoke near her ear.
"You are Jennifer Shepard, yes?"
Before she even turned around, Jenny instinctively knew that voice belonged to the woman with whom she'd been fascinated just seconds ago.
Slowly the red-head turned around and looked into those brown eyes once again. They were even more intoxicating at this distance. The close proximity of their bodies made it difficult for her to breathe and she unconsciously took a small step backwards so that she could manage to reply in the affirmative.
That knowing smile appeared again on the Israeli's attractive pink lips, but it was not unkind in the least. She held out a hand, which Jenny automatically took. If they held onto each other for a few seconds longer than strictly necessary for the introductory shake, no one seemed to notice.
"Ziva David," the dark-haired woman revealed succinctly.
Nothing about her revealed that this was her Mossad contact, but the NCIS agent could only assume that no one else in the busy airport had any reason to know who she was. Still, she used the story she'd been given to confirm that this was indeed her contact, wondering in a far corner of her mind if she could possibly be that lucky.
With a friendly curve to her lips, she offered, "Please, call me Jenny. I really appreciate the tour company sending someone to meet me when work unexpectedly delayed my departure. I've been looking forward to seeing your beautiful country."
"It is our pleasure to have you here," Ziva replied, her eyes telegraphing that the pleasure was all hers. "Come - we will get you through customs and you will be joining your fellow tourists in Haifa in time for dinner."
With a light hand under her elbow that caused shivers to run up Jenny's arm – so much for getting a grip Jenny snorted inwardly – Ziva led her to a separate desk with a very short line, rather than to one of the long lines for the regular customs agents. Ziva had obviously cleared things with this agent earlier, as she introduced the American as the tourist she'd told him about who was here to join up with her group. Jenny did not miss the brief meaningful glance that passed between Ziva and the customs agent and in no time her passport had been stamped.
"Welcome to Israel, Ms. Shepard," the man whose name tag read Benyamin intoned. "We hope you enjoy your stay."
"Thank you," Jen responded with a smile. "I'm sure I will." Especially if Ziva David is part of the package she admitted dryly to herself.
As the two women walked out of the airport, the intense heat hit Jenny like a brick wall.
"Is it always this hot in Israel in August?" she asked her companion, immediately removing the light jacket she'd worn on the plane. Ziva slipped her shades back over her eyes, while Jenny dug in her purse for hers.
"No," Ziva answered evenly. "Sometimes it is hotter." The twinkle in her eyes as she tipped her sunglasses down to look at Jenny brought a captivating grin to the American's lips that the Mossad officer promptly decided she would never tire of seeing.
The two women climbed into a small dark car. Jenny had only traveled with a carry-on suitcase and Ziva quickly stowed it in the trunk. As they drove, the Israeli asked casual questions about the flight in between periods of not uncomfortable quiet and gave her passenger some general information about where they were going.
For her part, Jenny was silently trying to decide which she found more terrifying: Ziva's driving style or the driving of those around them. More than once her heart leapt into her throat, but they soon safely reached a non-descript house in a quiet residential section of South Tel Aviv where they would meet up with other members of Ziva's team. A quick look around showed there to be a great deal of diversity in this neighborhood and just enough activity for their arrival at this home to seem typical and uneventful.
The next three days were spent finalizing the details of the op. Jen's cover was a lesson in hiding in plain sight. She would be assigned as the NCIS officer on a Navy ship - the ship on which all signs suggested the American traitor was a crew member. Ostensibly, she was there to conduct an investigation into possible drug trafficking while the crew was participating in the military exercise with Egypt. The premise the ship's commander had been given was that SecNav wanted to evaluate the crew's ability to stay focused on the job at hand rather than be distracted by such an internal investigation, but the crew was unaware that her presence was part of the training exercise, of course.
That position, and the fact that it had been leaked among the crew that an NCIS agent was coming aboard to conduct an investigation about some possible illegal drug activity, meant that she would have fairly free rein to be in various places and to ask pointed questions without giving away her true mission.
Ziva, on the other hand, would be like a ghost – if all went well, no one but Jen would even know she'd been there. She would be in contact with her own sources of information close to the ground in Cairo and the surrounding area, and would use various disguises to blend in to her surroundings, including that of an American sailor.
SecNav had arranged for this ship to be docked for a good deal of the exercise for supposed repairs from damage sustained on the first day of the training simulation. That would make it easier for Jenny and Ziva to devise opportunities to share information.
Before they knew it, they were in Cairo. The two women met or crossed paths every day in some way, shape or form. The first time Ziva was waiting for Jen in her cabin on the ship, simply materializing out of the shadows after Jen had locked the door behind her, the American had nearly shot her. After that, they developed a signal so Jenny would not be surprised.
A couple of times Ziva slept on the floor in Jen's room for the night, though she was always gone before the American awoke. Jenny had difficulty sleeping those nights, being so aware of the attractive woman who was near enough to touch, yet knowing now was not the time…and that there might not ever be a time.
Little did she know that Ziva was experiencing the same problem – she was just better at lying completely still through it.
Their instant attraction still fairly hummed between them, but nothing happened during the mission other than a few lingering, heated looks and occasional touches that appeared casual, but felt anything but. Still, without some overt sign, Jenny found herself doubting that the intense feelings that had blindsided her were returned.
However, no matter what the feelings on either side were, both Ziva and Jenny were too professional to do anything other than give their primary focus to the job at hand.
After two and a half weeks, their mission was completed successfully, though not uneventfully. As Jen aimed her Sig at the Navy informant in the bowel of the ship and prepared to arrest him, one of his Hezbollah contacts pressed a gun to the back of her head.
"Stupid Americans," he said derisively. "Sending a woman to do a man's job … and you should not have come alone."
"She did not," came a deadly calm voice to his left.
He automatically whipped his head toward the source of those words. Within seconds, he was dead on the floor after a silent shot from Ziva hit him squarely in the middle of his forehead.
"You know," Jen said almost dispassionately while her gaze remained fixed on her suspect, "in my country we would have arrested him, too."
"At times, we do things a little differently here," Ziva answered matter-of-factly, moving to train her gun on the American suspect while Jenny put him in handcuffs. Then her voice took on a lethal edge even as it dropped an octave. "His biggest mistake was putting his weapon to your head."
Jenny risked a glance at Ziva's face, her breath stolen by the possessiveness that flared in the Israeli's eyes, only to be doused so quickly that Jen wondered if she'd imagined the passionate look.
Things wrapped up quickly from there. The sailor was formally arrested and returned to the States for further questioning and prosecution. Ziva was joined by the rest of her team and they took care of rounding up and interrogating the rest of the terrorist cell that had been uncovered during the mission.
The two women and the rest of the group returned to the safe house in Tel Aviv. Over the next couple of days, everyone was debriefed, details were wrapped up and information that could provide new leads for others in the counterterrorism field was properly disseminated. Fairly exhausted, yet agitated every time she thought about leaving without exploring these feelings that sizzled between her and Ziva, Jen retrieved her suitcase from a locked closet at the safe house and prepared to go to a hotel near the airport for the night. She had a reservation on a flight back to the States late the next afternoon.
For the first time in her life, however, her heart wasn't in returning home.
To be continued ...
