La Grenouille

Summary: What did he do to you, Jenny? My interpretation of the reason she hates the Frog.

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

"What did he do to you, Jenny?"

The words full of concern from the one man she wanted, the one man she loved, almost made her break down and tell him everything. What had He done to her? He had tried to break her. Ducky was partly right. He uses his sophistication to get what he wants, but when that fails, he has people working for him to do things very differently.

She has never been able to remember how she got there; she just recalls waking up on a comfy single bed in a brightly furnished, homely room. The room had been small, with autumn colour carpets, curtains and an open fire with a table and chairs to one side of it. The room had also contained two men. A blonde man she didn't recognise and La Grenouille. Instant terror had gripped her and she had tried to get up but her body had felt too frail to move, a splitting pain appearing behind her eyes. She must've been drugged. How, she didn't know.

She must've made some sound to alert them, as they had turned to her. Once they had seen she was awake, La Grenouille had sat at the table uncorking a bottle, while the Blonde man had withdrawn a knife and advanced on her. He'd reached down to her on the bed she was laying on and her blood ran cold. God, no! She tried to pull away but he'd gripped her hair, and pushed her head down to the side, forcing her eyes to connect with the older mans. The Frog poured his cognac while he spoke to her, but she honestly couldn't remember a word he said. She was completely drawn in by his cold eyes and his amused smile at what was about to happen to her. The lackey plunged the knife down her shirt, tearing it open slowly. She flinched as the cool metal skimmed her body, the sound of tearing cloth loud in the small room. She memorized the old man before her, already swearing to herself that she would kill him, for herself, and all the people who were being killed by his weapons. The lackey pulled the remnants of her shirt apart, groping her bared skin and rubbing himself on her thigh. Pure revulsion made her sick to her stomach. She had been praying that he'd just kill her and not do anymore.

The frog had held out a glass to him after a few moments and the blond man reluctantly walked over to his boss to retrieve the brown liquid that He seemed to love so much. Psychological torture, making her believe she had a chance to get free while his back was turned, when she knew full well that the frog had a gun. The adrenaline coursing through her system made her feel more awake with each passing second. She experimented with moving her hands and feet, too terrified to be more subtle. Her heart rate sped when she discovered she could move with relative ease.

You're a damn good agent, Jen.

His voice had sounded in her mind. She had focussed on the sweet memory of her boss turned lover, making love with him in the soft light of that loft, their bodies heated, and the bliss of just being with him. Calm descended almost immediately and she suddenly knew how to get away. This guy might have a knife, but she was a trained NCIS Special Agent, she wouldn't just give up. The frogs lackey realised she was getting flighty and returned to her side, pressing the knife to her chest and sharing a joke with Him. His mistake was taking his eyes off her. While his head was turned, she reached up and grabbed the hand holding the knife, twisting his thumb so he dropped it. La Grenouille was shocked but he recovered fast, he clutched his gun, removed the safety and emptied his barrel. She reared up twisting the guy in front of her so he took the bullets, and then kicked him towards the frog, getting up and running for the door as he fell on his boss, the bottle of alcohol and glasses smashing beneath his weight. She had made it back to her safe house without another incident.

It had never occurred to her that she could end it then; her only instinct had been to run for her life. She wished that she had had the strength to pick up the knife and kill him then, but she hadn't. People were still dying because of her mistake. She had to rectify that, no matter what the cost.

"What did he do to you, Jenny?"

The words full of concern from the one man she wanted, the one man she loved, almost made her break down and tell him everything.

Almost.

"You have no need to know, Agent Gibbs."