Author's note:
"This reminds me of our op in the former Czech Republic."
"You took a round in the thigh."
"I had the same bad feeling before that op, too."
- Undercovers, Season Three.
The continuity department must have been napping the day that scene was filmed, because in 1992 Czechoslovakia split into The Czech Republic and The Slovak Republic.
There is no such thing as the former Czech Republic.
Outskirts of Babice, The Czech Republic
October 19th, 1998
It came as a shock that she was bristling, and she hated the fact that Decker's words were reverberating in her head.
Don't let him hold you back.
Jethro wasn't doing anything of the kind, and yet all of a sudden one of the things she admired most about him wasn't that attractive anymore.
He simply stuck to his gut - and in the process dismissed everybody else's.
Including hers.
He was haunted by people without definition and she knew, just by the way his eyes lost their warmth when the subject came up, that he would pursue the Russian sniper until he ran him to ground. He wasn't just bordering on obsession, he'd fallen over the edge. As he had on countless other occasions when pursuing suspects in the field.
She looked around her and shivered; as much from the cold as from the acknowledgement that she was taking things personally.
And the fear that this meant she was in over her head with him; that being with him might mean losing her individual sense of self.
Something she couldn't afford.
She looked around again and something about the stillness unnerved her all over again. She couldn't explain it, not to him and not to herself, but something wasn't right here. They'd been dropped off a few miles away, and the agreement was that they'd be picked up in seventy-two hours. They had the keys to a house in the village and would be doing surveillance from the observation post Gibbs was building.
In pairs.
Twelve hour shifts.
Unease rippled through her again. Admittedly it would make no sense attracting attention to themselves by having a car in a village with a population of three hundred, but the idea of being stranded in the middle of nowhere if things went south wasn't particularly appealing either.
She was pulled from her thoughts by murmurs to her left.
Callen and Pacci were watching Gibbs.
He lay on his stomach, moving forward inches at a time. Keeping low to the ground – almost as though he were crawling under barbed wire. Seeking out depressions in the ground, apparently, and pausing every now and then. It looked as though he was tasting and smelling the air. She stared at him in fascination, and it took her a few moments to realise that he was evaluating their position.
Looking for the perfect spot to construct what she could only assume was going to be a sniper's hide.
For a moment she was glad she was pairing up with Pacci, because such a construction would barely be big enough for two people, and twelve hours was a long time to be cooped up with someone you could barely stop touching.
They were at the stage now where they couldn't get enough of each other. Especially after the last night they'd spent together. Their lovemaking came in fits and starts wherever they could fit it in. It was fresh and new; desperate, urgent and highly gratifying.
She tried not to think about how long the next seventy-two hours were going to be.
Gibbs nodded to himself; content with the place he'd deemed fit for their observation post.
Setting up listening devices or cameras inside the buildings was out of the question. There was, however, only one entrance to the abandoned farm, and the low light video and still cameras they had brought would have to be enough. The exchange wasn't supposed to take place till the following night. They had a twenty-four hour advantage – which he intended to make the most of. Once he was done with the vegetation cover, nobody would know they were there. He looked around for suitable materials, and his eye fell on his team.
All standing about looking at him in awe.
"Pacci, Shepard," he growled. "Go make sure there are no surprises out there."
The farmhouse was little more than a pile of rubble, but a barn across from it was still in fairly decent shape.
"Beef or dairy?" Pacci asked as they ducked in and out of stalls.
"We haven't see any milking equipment," Jen replied as she walked back outside, "but it's been abandoned for a long time, so maybe they had a man-"
She stopped when she realised that Pacci wasn't listening.
In fact Pacci was nowhere to be seen. She had just about retraced her steps when he appeared at the barn door. She smiled as he fell into step beside her, but as they rounded a corner, the crunch of footsteps brought the blistering realization that they had run across someone who wasn't expecting company.
There was, however, no turning back.
No time to think, and certainly nowhere to hide as the man in question raised his weapon.
Gibbs had just finished assembling foliage when the crack of gunshot rang out. He reached the barn to find Pacci leaning over a young man who couldn't have been a day over eighteen.
"What happened?" he asked.
The light was fading fast, but even in the dimness he could see the adrenaline coursing through both of his agents.
"He came out of nowhere," Pacci said. Reliving the moment the man had crumpled to the ground from a round to his chest. "Jen took the shot."
Gibbs's eyes ran over her once, and he nodded sharply at her before addressing Callen.
"Get the camera."
The young agent nodded and headed off to retrieve the equipment, but he'd barely been gone a few minutes when the sounds of a car coming up the winding drive floated towards them on the air. Gibbs tightened his grip on his weapon and cursed under his breath as he made his way to the edge of the building.
Face offs rarely ended well.
"Vassily?" the new arrival queried.
He sounded unsure as he looked him up and down, and Callen didn't miss a beat.
"Da."
Whoever this man was he hadn't known who to expect, and Callen wasted no time in assuming the dead man's identity.
"Any problems?" the stranger asked warily as he looked around.
Everything was far from being okay, but this man didn't need to know that.
"Yes, everything is under control," Callen replied in flawless Russian.
Seemingly satisfied and clearly eager to leave, the man nodded and put away his gun. He pulled a small package from his car and walked over to the dilapidated farmhouse. When he had ensconced the package in the rubble, he turned back to Callen and pulled a wad of notes from his pocket.
"We'll stick with the original plan," he said as he handed the money over to him. Mumbling something else as he turned away.
Gibbs let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding as the car drove off. He reholstered his weapon and nodded approvingly at Callen as the young agent joined them again.
"Did you get that?" Callen asked as he handed over an evidence bag.
"They're picking up as scheduled tomorrow. Vassily must have been keeping an eye on the place."
"Yeah," Gibbs said with another nod. "Get the plates?"
Callen nodded as he started to take photos. "I think I can do a sketch of him, too."
"Good."
Gibbs patted down the man known as Vassily. Removing his watch as well as the gold chain around his neck. Checking him for distinguishing marks as best he could while keeping an eye on Jenny. She picked up the pistol Vassily had dropped and stared at it for a moment, but there was no guilt in her demeanour. Nothing to indicate that she'd done anything but look out for herself and Pacci in an untenable situation. He saw rugged determination as she bagged the gun, and for the moment he was satisfied. No doubt he would hear the details later, but their priority now was to make Vassily disappear and get back to the task at hand.
"Jen?"
Pacci's voice had an edge to it, and made Gibbs' head snap up.
His eyes fell on the evidence bag that she'd passed to their colleague, and widened slightly as he took in the red smear. His blood ran cold as he realised what the look of grim determination on her face really was, and looking at her more closely he could see the pain etched into her features as she focused on bagging something else.
He had her by the elbow in two paces.
"Did you get hit?"
She looked up at him, her lower lip firmly compressed between her teeth, and nodded.
"When exactly were you planning on telling me?" he said as an irrational spate of anger rushed through him. "How bad is it?" he growled as she looked away.
"Not too bad," she said. Although from the way she spoke he knew she was lying.
"Where?" he demanded.
There was just enough light left for him to see the blood seeping through the fingers clamped over her thigh.
Even in the dim light, the emotions running across his face were a sight to behold.
Frustration, irritation, and concern all rolled into one.
She stopped him just as he was reaching for the satellite phone at his waist.
"There's no need to jeopardise the op," she said, as she placed a hand on his. Feeling him tense under her fingers.
"We don't have a choice anymore, Jen," he snapped.
"Yes we do. You were in the Corps, Jethro. I'm sure you've seen your fair share of battle wounds, and dealt with more than a few. This is no big deal. It hasn't hit the bone or I wouldn't be standing, and it hasn't ruptured any blood vessels or I'd be bleeding to death by now. I can feel it under the skin. Here ..."
She pulled his hand onto her thigh, and sure enough he could feel it too.
"Don't call off the op," she repeated carefully. "Even if I'm laid up, the three of you can still do the surveillance. We have the basic first aid kit."
He considered what she was saying. She was right, he had extracted bullets from fellow marines in the field. Had even pulled one from himself once. But they'd been men - and although he had no intention of sharing that particular bias, he couldn't ignore it either.
He shook his head as he reached for the phone.
"This could be the break we've been waiting for," she said urgently as her hand closed over his again.
She would use that to make her argument, he thought as he struggled to make a decision.
In the privacy afforded by darkness she squeezed his hand gently.
"Jen .." He wasn't sure she understood the pain she would feel if he took a knife to her, and even less sure that he was capable of inflicting it on her.
"I trust you," she whispered.