Title: What Could Have Been
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing/character: Jen/Ziva
Rating: PG
Prompt: "Nothing happened in Cairo."
Kink: UST
Notes/Warnings: I sort of make this my own personal canon, but I suppose we don't REALLY know what happened in Cairo, now do we? And go me, writing angst for NCIS! Seriously, it's pretty Angsty Angst McAngst. Also, a song rec while reading: "9 Crimes" by Damien Rice. Guh. Written for roundsofkink on Livejournal.

"We have new information on our target," Jen announced to the group gathered in her office. Gibbs' team, of course, was heading up this latest investigation, and Jen had called them to her office for the latest intel she had gathered.

She continued. "Abdul Hissad. Resident of Egypt."

Across the room, Ziva stiffened in her chair. Only Jen noticed, and the question in her eyes flickered and died down before she added, "To be precise . . . Cairo."

Ziva let out a noticable gasp, causing Tony and McGee to look her direction and Gibbs to direct his own questioning eyes at Jen. "Something we should be aware of, Madame Director?" he asked.

Jen kept her eyes trained on Ziva, watching for another reaction from the young officer. "Previous to joining NCIS . . ."

"If I may, Director, I would like to get started immediately," Ziva interrupted, flustered.

Jen raised and lowered her eyebrows in an expression of acquiescence. "If you wish."

She quickly stood from her chair and headed for the door, but Gibbs' voice stopped her. "Ziva."

She looked back, expecting him to ask for an explanation. He motioned to the other men in the room. "Take DiNozzo and McGee with you."

"Right." She nodded. "Yes." She looked to the men, and they hurriedly stumbled to their feet, following her from the room.

Gibbs watched them leave, waited for the door to close, then turned back to Jen. She was stacking files on her desk as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"What the hell was that?"

Jen looked up, as if she were surprised that he was still sitting there. "You'd have to ask Ziva. She must have a problem with the case."

"What happened when you two were in Africa?" The question was asked so lightly, it was like they were discussing the weather instead of something as heavy as Jen and Ziva's past together.

Anger flashed in Jen's eyes momentarily before she answered, her words crisp. "Nothing happened in Cairo." She remained staring at Gibbs, daring him to continue.

He shrugged. "Just like nothing happened in Paris." He made as if to stand and leave, but Jen's voice halted him, just as he knew it would.

"This is different, Jethro." Her voice rose with each syllable she uttered, until she was nearly yelling by the time she said his name.

Gibbs stopped and turned around, his posture the picture of perfect composure, while Jen was radiating fury. "I don't care about the details, Jen. I just don't want something from the past to affect my team. Whatever happened between you and Ziva should stay there."

Jen opened her mouth to speak again, but Gibbs held up a hand to silence her, walking to the door. "The past is the past for a reason, Jen." He opened the door and exited the office, closing the door gently behind him.

At her desk, Jen remained standing, anger filtering through her pores into the room now occupied solely by her. Gibbs didn't know, he had no idea of what went on in Cairo . . .

"Have you ever experienced Cairo nightlife?" Jen asked, blowing a ring of smoke from her cigarette.

Ziva shook her head, taking the cigarette from the older woman, and taking her own drag off it. "No, but I have heard it is quite wild and jubilee."

"JubiLANT, Ziva," Jen corrected, a smile painted on her face. "You'll get the words in time. And yes, it can be rather . . . intoxicating."

Ziva frowned. "Everyone gets drunk? But that's nothing special."

Jen remained smiling. "Oh, Ziva,I believe you must experience this culture for yourself . . ."

Ziva let out a sigh and looked up, noticing the veiled attempts of nonchalance on her co-workers faces. She let out a groan. "What? Do you want me to tell you everything now?"

"We're just concerned, Ziva . . ." McGee started, but Tony cut him off with a raised hand, standing from his chair and swaggering over to Ziva's desk, moving around behind her and finally crouching down to her right side.

"Secret love affair, right?" he asked, his tone consoling, but Ziva still felt a hot flush rise to her cheeks. Tony noticed and attempted to hold back a smirk. "It's okay – we won't tell anyone."

McGee stood from his own chair when Ziva didn't make some sort of smart-ass comment back to Tony, wandering over to her desk. "Tony's just joking around, Ziva. He knows you and the Director were never . . . could never . . . Were you?"

Ziva let out a shaky breath, bracing her hands on the edge of her desk. "No. We were not. Not that it is any of either of your business." She fixed them both with a steely glare – or what she intended as a steely glare, but pain remained laced in her eyes, and it only left Tony and McGee feeling even more worried.

McGee joined Tony in crouching beside her desk. "Ziva, you know we're your friends and we just want to make sure . . ."

"I do not want to talk about it, McGee," Ziva interrupted him, her tone of voice mimicking Jen's with Gibbs. She met his eyes, silently pleading for them to give up, just let her be, then dipped her head again, murmuring, "It was a long time ago . . ."

"And the past should stay there." Gibbs' voice surprised them all, and they all looked up guiltily, Ziva's expression a mix of surprise, regret and gratefulness. He nodded at the male agents. "Get back to work."

Tony and McGee muttered responses and tottered back to their desks, keeping a curious eye on the duo remaining at Ziva's desk. Gibbs turned back to Ziva. "Nothing good's going to come from keeping the past this alive, Ziva."

Ziva's eyes suddenly registered anger. "You are really one to talk."

Gibbs set his mouth in a line, trying to hold back his own anger. "I know you saved the Director's life in Egypt and this probably brings up some emotional . . ."

"You know nothing," Ziva hissed at him. By this point, Gibbs wasn't even registering as her boss anymore – he was simply a man, and he was clueless about what had happened in Cairo . . .

Ziva and Jen exited yet another nightclub, giggling like schoolgirls from the amount of alcohol they had consumed. Jen stepped into the street, still blathering away. Ziva turned and looked behind the older woman and let out a frightened shriek.

"Jenny!" Instinct took over as she launched Jen out of the way, sending them both into the side of a parked car. A sedan whizzed by, the driver yelling obscenities out the window, and Ziva turned back to the woman whose life she had just saved. Gone was the fearless lady she had come to known, and in her place stood a shaking, frightened imitation.

Ziva swallowed hard, speaking softly. "Are you okay?"

Jen's eyes flitted to Ziva's face, as if just remembering the younger woman was standing there. She didn't speak, but rather approached her, throwing her arms around her.

Ziva stiffened. She wasn't used to such affection, especially not from women she barely knew. Somehow, she managed to return the hug, albeit awkwardly, and after a few minutes, Jen pulled away.

The look in Jen's eyes told Ziva there was more to the hug than appreciation, and the strange thing was that she found she didn't mind – in fact, she welcomed it. There was something about this woman that intrigued her, and more than that, she found herself very attracted to her.

"I, uh, thank you, Ziva." Jen stumbled over her words. She paused. "I need to . . . warn you the next time I am about to hug you like that."

"It is nothing," Ziva quickly replied. "I did not mind. Actually . . ."

"No." The harshness in Jen's tone silenced Ziva immediately, and the Israeli found herself blinking in surprise. She did not expect to be rejected so harshly. Jen sighed and continued. "It's not that I don't feel the same way, Ziva. I just . . . we're partners of sorts, and I don't want to mess with that. Do you understand?"

Ziva nodded. "Yes, yes, I do. It is not your fault. Perhaps if we had met under other circumstances."

Jen nodded her agreement. "It just wasn't meant to be. But I do owe you, Ziva. You just saved my life."

Ziva smiled wistfully. "I am sure you will think of some way to return the favor . . ."

Ziva raised her eyes to gauge the interest of her teammates, then when she was sure they were engrossed in their own work, risked a glance upwards, to Jenny's office. She let out a sigh, then forced her gaze back to her computer. She had work to do – everything else could wait.

Meanwhile, up in the Director's office, Jen had sat, removing something from a desk drawer. It was her own Star of David necklace, that she had bought shortly after the Cairo trip. She wasn't a religious person, but the symbol had reminded her of Ziva, so she had bought it. From time to time, she took it out, to hold it, admire its beauty, and to remember what could have been.

THE END