Title: Five Minutes to Midnight

Author: Morgan72uk

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I definitely shouldn't be doing this... sorry.

A/N - so, this was an idea I had for a West Wing fic years ago - that I never got around to writing. And then I realised it might just work for a Jibbs fic as well. I think it might be a little over-dramatic, but you kind of have to go with the mood and it's been bugging me. So...

Five Minutes to Midnight

The Director of NCIS stood in the centre of MTAC, still reeling from the information she'd been given. She'd cleared the room to receive the message which had been coded for her eyes only and now, standing here she felt incredibly alone – burdened by the weight of what she knew and what it meant.

"What do you need me to do?" She asked the figure on the screen. At her question his mouth quirked up into a smile, but his eyes were tired.

"You don't know how much I wish there was something you could do." The Secretary of the Navy looked over his shoulder, nodding to a figure in the background. "They're moving me now – they'll be with you in a few minutes. You need to follow the procedure – until we know more about what's happening."

For a moment she wanted to ask him if this was a drill, knew he'd never tell her even if she asked. But she knew it wasn't a drill – if they were very lucky it was a false alarm, a chance to see how vulnerable they were in time to fix it, before next time. But she'd been watching the intel for the last few days and she wasn't at all sure they were going to be lucky.

"The President is on the plane, we've gone to DEFCON-3. I need you somewhere safe Jenny – you are one of the few people who's seen all the intelligence."

She had a card in her purse that, in the event of an emergency like this, granted her access to a secure location. Normally she would insist that she needed to ride out the crisis in MTAC, but she knew what he was telling her. The information in her head, the intelligence she'd seen meant that she didn't have a choice about this. Though her every instinct called out to her to stay, to not leave her agency and the people within it.

"I have to go now – God speed." She nodded; not able to speak for fear her voice would tremble and betray her.

The screen went blank and she blinked, alone in the dark with who the hell knew what coming for them. Tomorrow there would be accusations and enquiries; but first they had to make it through the night.

Squaring her shoulders she crossed the room to one of the terminals and brought up a programme she'd hoped never to have to use.

Gibbs was doing his best not to listen to the banter of his team, though it was getting increasingly difficult and he knew that he was about 60 seconds from intervening, or at least slapping DiNozzo on the back of the head. The atmosphere had been tense for days, though for once he wasn't the cause. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on, the Director and the intelligence analysts had been holed up in MTAC for so long he was actually thinking about dragging her away for some food this evening – or at least bringing a meal to her office.

But the sight of three men in dark suits – unmistakably secret service – following Cynthia towards the Director's office drove every other thought away. He wasn't the only one to notice; DiNozzo observing, "well, that can't be good." He got to his feet to find out what was happening but before he could make a move the lights went dark across the bullpen and an alarm started to sound.

They'd tested this protocol – but never instituted it without warning and he looked around him at the surprised faces of his team and others. "Get moving!" He snapped, shattering the silence. He told himself it was a drill, but his gaze drifted back towards Jen's office and he knew it wasn't; he took the stairs two at a time.

Stepping through the outer office doors he came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the Director packing up Cynthia's belongings as her assistance protested that she wasn't leaving and the secret service looked on.

"Cynthia," Jen's voice broke as she pressed a coat into her assistant's hands. "Please, go home." The young woman opened her mouth but instead of arguing some more she simply nodded and headed for the door – casting one last look at her boss before she left.

"Jen, what's going on?"

"Director," she looked over at the secret service agent who had spoken, "we don't have much time."

"I need a few moments." She gestured for Gibbs to follow her into the office and pushed the door closed behind them, leaning heavily against it for a moment.

"Jen?" He repeated, concerned by the tautness of her expression, by the way she'd sent Cynthia away.

It had been hard enough to face Cynthia, knowing that she was about to be whisked away to safety and that there was no place for her loyal assistant. But now Jethro was here and the currents were far deeper. She took a breath – avoiding looking him in the eye.

"I can't tell you too much," she said, "but you need to send your team home – tell them to make sure they are with their lovers, family, friends – just in case."

"If there's a threat we should be out there, trying to…" She wasn't surprised at his response, that he'd want to investigate – follow the evidence.

"We are, we have been. But we're out of time." She looked up at him then, her eyes begging him to understand. Precious seconds trickled away as they watched each other – the words there, but neither of them brave enough to speak them outloud. At last she pushed herself away from the door and headed for her desk, "go home Jethro."

"And where will you be, Director?" On a different day the use of her title might have stung – but there was no bitterness in his tone and it leant her a strength that she needed right now.

"Sec Nav wants me moved to somewhere secure – our visitors are here to escort me. If there were any other way…"

"Get your things," when she hesitated he said, "I'm not kidding Jen – you need to leave, now."

"I could stay – monitor things from MTAC. It won't make any difference if…" she couldn't finish that sentence, but he was already shaking his head.

"I'll put you in the car myself if I have to."

"I don't think that will be necessary," she picked up a few things from her desk, set them down again when she realised that she wouldn't need them where she was going. Her thoughts were racing – all the things she should have said and done tugging at her. Her courage almost failed her until she turned and found him staring at her, his eyes soft.

"Jethro," he placed a finger to her lips and she stopped dead at the contact, the sound of her heartbeat deafening her to anything else. Right then she didn't need to say anything – even if she could have found the words. She knew her expression was naked, everything stripped away apart from this. And she knew he knew what she would have said, if he'd allowed her.

The tap at the door startled them and she stepped away, shivering at the sudden lack of contact, "come in," she said - knowing her voice quivered with emotion.

"Director – if we're going to make it we need to leave now." She nodded, not brave enough to look at Gibbs.

"I'm ready," she felt a hand at the small of her back, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment at the contact as he guided her out of the door.

She paused for a moment – looking over the balcony down at the bullpen; there were far too many agents still there – including all of Gibbs' team. "I'll see to it," he told her and she nodded, trusting him to do what was necessary.

"You need to seal the doors to MTAC," she said. "The grey team are in there already, they understand what is expected of them."

"I'll walk you to the elevator,"

"Don't." It was hard enough to leave him like this – with all the emotions she'd spent years keeping at bay suddenly in danger of overpowering her. But the longer they left it the harder it was going to be and she wanted to remember him here, like this.

He nodded once and she saw his hands tighten on the railing in front of him, his knuckles white from the pressure of his grip. "Take care," she whispered, nodding to the secret service agent at her side and taking a first step towards the elevator.

She wasn't prepared for the way his hand snaked out to grip her wrist, his fingers sliding down over her hand, their palms pressing together, the fit perfect. She didn't stop walking and he didn't try to hold onto her – her hand stretched back, until only their fingertips made contact and then finally the distance was too great and the hands fell away. She risked a quick glance over her shoulder and saw that he hadn't moved, wasn't even looking over at her. She blinked back tears and kept walking.

TBC