Le Vengeance au de Kort
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Rating: T
Summary: "This is not going to end well for you." What if Jenny wasn't really dead? What if she had been abducted by an enemy?
Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs couldn't believe what he was seeing. Jenny had been fine when he'd last spoken to her, it just didn't seem possible that she was gone. The shock had numbed him when he had read that little card saying 'Shepard' placed in the chalked silhouette of where her body had been and he couldn't speak, couldn't think about how his life would be without her in it. Vance had rambled on in the background but he paid no attention to him, his every thought about her. She had been there for him when he needed her, taking his side in the Ari situation even though the only reason to do so was his gut, being supportive through his amnesia and letting him keep his Agent status while he was away on his 'Margarita Safari', but he wasn't there for her when she needed him the most.
After the numbness of shock came the pain. Pain from knowing that she died to protect him from her mistake, the one target she failed to neutralise, and the one that had the means to get revenge. If he'd only followed her to that funeral, instead of pride getting in the way, she might still be alive. They'd always made a great team. He wouldn't have left her unaided; he'd have stayed with her even when she told him not to. Never neglect your partner's safety, that was one of his rules, wasn't it? Well it should have been because when they were together they had always felt safe. Instead though, he'd left her protection to Tony and Ziva, who wouldn't stand up to her orders and hadn't even been able to keep her in sight. What made it worse was that she had died alone. Even Franks had left her side, leaving her with no back up and four guys after her blood. He'd failed her.
-
Pain; the first thing Jenny was aware of as she tried to climb through her mind towards true consciousness. She could see bright lights through her eyelids and she could taste and smell blood for a brief moment. Then the four points of searing agony in her body flared and she felt a sharp sting as something hit her head and it all became too much. The suffering seemed to settle over every sense she owned like a fog and she felt her mind retreating quickly from it. She welcomed oblivion when it arrived.
-
A middle aged man sat next to the body of the most beautiful creature he had ever set eyes upon. She had been shot four times in the torso but luckily the paramedics had discovered a slight pulse and she had been brought straight to this hospital. When he had heard his partner tell him what had happened he had decided to jump on the first plane to LA to get to her side, knowing that he would have been ordered to do so regardless. He had been terrified that she was going to die, but they had removed the bullets and stopped the bleeding in time. He reached a hand out to her and brushed some of her long red hair from her head. She was pale from blood loss but that was to be expected.
He and his partner had set a plan in motion a year ago when he had realised that she didn't want to have anything to do with him and this little stunt of hers nearly brought all of that careful planning crashing down. Thankfully the drugs that he had been slipping into the Bourbon at her work and home hadn't prevented her from defending herself in the fire fight that she had been involved in. He needed to ring his partner and tell him that she was alive. Hopefully he would be able to take care of the evidence in her liquor before anyone found it. He leaned over her and placed a soft kiss on her forehead before moving off to make his call.
A distinctive British accent answered the phone on the third ring, clearly expecting the call.
"She's alive?" At his affirmative, the voice chuckled darkly.
"Good. I've already sent the double to your hospital. She should be being brought up from the morgue now. Switch the bodies and bring her to the safe house. Don't worry about the documentation; my associate has taken care of it."
He looked at his phone surprised, as the line went dead. He'd been promised that he could keep her. He didn't like this new development at all, but he couldn't say no. The voice may sound charming but he'd met him more times in the last year then he'd like and he wasn't the type of man he wanted to get on the wrong side of. He decided it was in his best interests to get to work and he took out a metal poker from his bag. He had just bought it since he couldn't actually bring one over on the flight. He took aim at the correct part of her head that he needed to swell up and swung the rod at it. It connected forcefully and he hastily hid it, just in case anyone had heard the clunk when he had struck her. It felt so wrong to be hurting her when he was a healer by profession, but it felt right too, because he could look after her afterwards.
Half an hour later, he lifted his head from her hand which he was holding up to his face and watched as a phoney paramedic wheeled a body bag in to the room. This was the hard part. He sighed and stood up, dropping her hand and removing the heart monitors. He lifted her, placing her in the body bag that the other guy had just lifted the double from and zipped it up. He checked that the woman had holes in her torso in the correct places and then attached the phoney paramedic to the monitors, to let it look like she was still alive. He instructed the other man to put the monitors on her chest in a few minutes, and then he checked the hallway and, seeing no one, set off towards the side exit with his precious cargo, hoping no one would stop him.
-
The good doctor is timely, at least. The British man in the safe house stood, straightening his jacket and getting out his gun. He stood at the window, watching as the white car backed in to the garage, and checking that no one was tailing it. He smiled after a minute of clear streets and walked quickly to the garage. The doctor was waiting patiently, the boot of his car already open showing a black body bag stashed there. The fool thinks he's keeping her. He chuckled to himself at the doctor's stupidity and gestured to the bag.
"Open it." He'd know if the weak man before him had pulled a switch since he'd memorised her face himself. Not that it was a difficult thing to do, she was distinctive, a natural beauty, but not his cup of tea. The idiot doctor hastily did as instructed, unzipping the bag and folding the side down to show her face. Yes that was her. There was a dark bruise appearing on her head that looked very recent which contrasted sharply with her pale, almost bloodless, skin.
"Did you do that?" the doctor nodded.
"I did it hard enough to cause swelling in the brain, and where it is located it should cause fairly thorough amnesia."
The doctor's usefulness was at an end. He chuckled and then leaned over her, stroking her face to distract the jealous surgeon, who had straightened up to protest, and then he lifted his gun to the man's head, firing before he could react. The Doctors body fell limply to the ground, blood pooling around his head, from the hole in his skull.
"A fitting end for a neurologist." He whispered. He brushed her hair from her face as a last insult to the doctor, before looking through the dead man's medical bag, which contained the supplies that he needed. It was filled mostly with syringes of a memory repression drug, but also contained quite a few sedatives. He pulled a sedative out of it and tucked it in his jacket pocket. He might need that before they get to the next safe house. He turned back to her, gloating a little and stole a kiss on her cheek roughly, like that time over a year ago in Paris, his hatred for her spilling out in the action.
"I told you it wouldn't end well for you. Bonjour Cherie."
Trent Kort grinned.
-
Jenny woke slowly, the pain in her body blazing and she sucked in a sharp breath, alerting the man next to her that she had awoken. She watched him pick up a syringe and inject it in her arm and she instantly felt relief as the pain gradually lessened. He had to add a second syringe before it dissipated completely.
"Thank you." She smiled a little at the man and he grinned back.
"You had us all worried there, Jennifer." She blinked at him and then her face froze in horror. She didn't know who she was! Jennifer? Was that her name? Who was he? Where was she? What had happened to her? She tried to remember her past, the faces of her parents, the names of her parents, her name and began to panic in earnest when she couldn't recall a single fact about her life. Desperately she focussed on the man before her. He had said that she had worried him, so he must know her.
"Who are you? Where am I?" She asked, trying to ignore the quiver in her voice as she said it, hoping that he would be able to shed some light on her predicament. He shook his head sadly at her questions and closed his eyes for a brief moment before looking at her forlornly.
"The doctor said you may have some memory problems Jennifer, but don't worry, it's only temporary. You are in a safe place, well, a safe house which we have been using as a base of operations for the past few months, before your attempted mur- I mean, your accident." He looked upset for a moment and she realised that he must be someone who cares for her a great deal. "As for whom I am, my name is Trent Kort... and I am your brother."
Jenny stared at him, her mind spinning, trying to understand what she had been told. He was her brother, well that explained why he was so worried about her. A base of operations for what? Her attempted murder? Who had tried to kill her? Why was he trying to cover it up by calling it an accident? She tried to voice her questions but he waved them off.
"Rest Jennifer, then when you are better I'll answer all of your questions, I promise." He stood up and moved to the door.
"Just one question then." He stopped at the door and sighed but agreed. "If you are my brother, is my last name Kort?" He smiled at her reassuringly and nodded.
"Of course it is. What else would it be?"
A.N.: I have edited this chapter just a little because Kort sounded too lovey-dovey. He isn't, he hates her.