A/N - thanks for the reviews.

Part 9

The sound of voices disturbed Gibbs and he looked up, ready to issue a sharp reprimand, only to discover that it wasn't his team that were doing the talking. Their heads were bent over reports and witness statements – at least he hoped that was what they were focussing on; DiNozzo in particular had been in an odd, skittish mood for most of the afternoon.

He considered going for coffee; because the report he was working on was almost finished and, once completed, he wasn't sure what remained that was likely to hold his attention. He was certain that he didn't want to spend anymore time thinking about what he was and wasn't doing in relation to Jen.

He wasn't going to interfere; he needed to stay clear of whatever was happening between her and Sutherland. She was right, they'd lost control and he felt a spurt of irritation at her for not stopping him, for letting her lack of control coincide with his. Silently he wished Jack Sutherland the best of luck – if she accepted his proposal he was certainly going to need it.

The murmur of voices was louder now and the team had looked up to see what the disturbance was. It was McGee who got to his feet and looked around the bull pen.

"Ramsay's sister," he said, "I think she's come in to collect the rest of his belongings. The Director's with her." Gibbs winced – certain that was going to be difficult for all concerned. Just for a moment he wondered if it was fair that Jen had to deal with this. But Ramsay's team weren't in any state to do it and from what he'd seen at the funeral the young woman had not exactly shared her parents understanding and acceptance of the risks that went alongside the job he had chosen. "Shouldn't we do something?" McGee asked as the voices grew louder.

"The Director can handle it." He was wary of interrupting – certain that she didn't need his help, that running to her aid would solve nothing and ran the risk of stoking all the banked resentment between them.

"Gibbs," he looked up again – Ziva was on her feet and she had gone still as she sometimes did, when she sensed danger without really being able to explain what it was she sensed. Her instincts however were normally impeccable.

Across the silence he heard a loud voice say, " I know you saved him because you used to be his partner!" It was only that which persuaded him to move to intercept the conversation. Whatever decision Jen had made it was because she believed it was the only choice available. She didn't need to have that accusation levied at her and certainly not within hearing of the entire agency.

He moved in the direction of the voices, louder now, one of them at least laced with anger. Rounding the corner he saw the two women standing just in front of the elevator; the Director's attempts to calm the situation apparently having little success. Ramsay's sister was angry and upset and she wasn't being anymore careful with the cup of take out coffee she was holding, than she was with the accusations she was throwing around. She was waving her arms and at any moment he thought she was likely to lose control enough to drop the cup – or throw it.

But perhaps that was the point because even as he took a step towards them her arm arched and she threw the contents of the cup at Jen. For a split second Gibbs thought that all they were going to have to deal with was a bill for getting coffee stains out of her suit, but then her expression and a low cry of pain told him differently.

He'd reached her side before her knees buckled, knocking aside the young woman who was now hysterical and incoherent. The liquid had splashed over the arm she'd thrown up to shield herself – but he could already see the red marks on the exposed flesh of her hand, the way it was eating through her jacket.

"Get Ducky," he yelled over his shoulder as he grabbed her and bundled her into the elevator. He punched in a button for two floors below where there were showers and even as the doors closed pulled off her jacket in an attempt to stop the chemical that was eating through the thin material.

The few seconds it took the elevator to descend were tortuous, he was still supporting her and when the doors finally opened all but dragged her out, along the corridor and finally into the locker room where the showers were.

He pulled her into the stall with him and hit the shower controls; scarcely giving a thought to the fact that they were both clothed. As the water started to pour over them he pulled off her shirt and frantically searched her body for other places the chemical might have splashed. He was still supporting her, holding her under the flow of water.

"Look at me," he said, realising that her eyes were shut, suddenly terrified that the chemical might have got into her eyes. Too late he realised that was exactly what he said to her that night in her study – and he could tell at once that she'd realised it as well.


Jen opened her eyes as he asked, flashing back to the night in her study when he'd made the same demand of her. He'd touched her then with the same urgency, but a very different intent; now he was running his hands over her flesh not to arouse her, but to check for burns.

"I'm all right."

Jethro was soaked – the sight of the droplets of water on his skin made her mouth go dry. For all sorts of reasons she shouldn't be thinking of leaning towards him and capturing the droplets with her lips. But it wasn't that simple.

At least she wasn't the only one affected; she knew the exact moment he realised that she was mostly naked, that they were both soaked; that no one was here. He tried to hide that awareness, tried to fight it and she hesitated, torn between pushing things or letting him hold onto his control. His hands were on hips and she felt his grip tighten, she looked up at him, it seemed he'd made up his own mind. She gasped.

"Jethro?" Ducky's voice shattered the moment and she wasn't sure if she was relieved or not.

"We're in here," his voice was flat, emotionless and she couldn't look him in the eye to see if his expression echoed the tone. "We'll need some towels."

"There are towels here," Ziva's voice – well, she supposed the incident had been fairly public, she wondered who else was out there. She closed her eyes and leant back against the shower wall. Her hand and arms stung like hell; but the instinctive gesture had saved her face, her eyes. The realisation slammed into her that she'd just been attacked in the bullpen of her own agency, the accusation that she had saved Gibbs because he'd been her partner at least as painful as the burns.

It wasn't true – she hadn't sent the rescuers to Gibbs because he'd been her partner, or because he'd been her lover. She'd made her choice on the basis of the situation and the odds. But, she knew Jethro far better than she knew Ramsay and she couldn't say for sure that she hadn't been influenced by what she knew about his abilities. She'd been trying to get all her agents out, she'd counted on him and his team and they hadn't let her down.

She emerged from the shower wrapped in a towel, Gibbs at her shoulder. Ducky was sitting on the bench, his medical equipment set out and Ziva was leaning against the wall – watching, and she assumed keeping everyone else at bay.

"I'm all right," she said, sitting down to let Ducky examine her arm.

The Doctor tutted softly and said, "we'll let me be the judge of that shall we?" He looked up and Jen saw the surprise in his eyes when he realised that Gibbs was sitting beside her, his hand resting on her waist. She was a little surprised herself – but she wasn't going to say anything. She knew he'd move away if she mentioned it and right now the feel of him so close was reassuring, reminding her of times long ago when knowing that he was beside her had made her believe that anything was possible.

"You did the right thing Jethro, it could have been a lot worse."

"It's bad enough. What was it Ducks, some kind of chemical?"

"Acid I'd say – judging by the nature of the burns."

"Where's the girl?" He asked, looking over towards Ziva.

"With Tony, he has her interrogation,"

"We're not charging her," Jen spoke firmly, imposing every bit of her authority on the discussion. She might be wrapped in a towel with one of her agents sitting just a little too close – but she was still the Director and it was her call. She glanced over her shoulder and knew that he wasn't happy with her decision. "She just lost her brother Jethro,"

"She brought dangerous chemicals into this building, that's intent. It wasn't hot coffee she threw at you." He had a point, but she wasn't ready to give in just yet.

"Ziva, check her out, find out if she has ever done anything like this before – if she hasn't, we're letting her go without charge." She stifled her annoyance when Ziva glanced over towards Gibbs, who nodded his assent to the suggestion. If this was part of a pattern of behaviour then she wouldn't interfere with what he decided was appropriate because she didn't think there was going to be a pattern.

"Director – you should go to hospital," she turned her attention back to Ducky, a little shocked by the suggestion.

"Surely that's not necessary?"

"I'd feel happier if you were checked out by a specialist."

"I don't see,"

"Jen," she stopped talking at the sound of Jethro's voice, at the look in his eyes. "Go to hospital." Ziva and Ducky were both watching them, Ziva's expression alive with curiosity.

"All right," she gave in, with as much grace as she could muster. "Do you think someone could ask Cynthia to bring me the change of clothes from my office? I'm not exactly dressed for a trip to the hospital right now."

"I will do it," Ziva volunteered, Jen nodded and she slipped away. Leaving the two of them alone with Ducky.

"Well," he looked from one of them to the other and obviously decided to beat a retreat as well. "Director, make sure you don't cover your arm over. They'll dress it for you at the hospital – and probably give you some painkillers. I'll have Abby check what the chemical was – and let them know."

"Thank you Ducky."

As the door closed leaving them alone Gibbs said, "Do you want me to call anyone?"

Just for a moment she tried to imagine Gibbs calling Jack to tell him she'd been hurt. But her imagination rebelled at the idea. Her life was, she decided, way too complicated. And she had no one to blame for that but herself. He had finally moved away, reaching for a towel and rubbing it over his wet hair. She felt his absence and scolded herself – because it would be very easy to forget about Hollis and Jack right now; but she couldn't afford to.

"No it's fine. I'll do it." His expression closed down and she pushed away her instinctive reaction, reaching out to him would get them into more trouble. "Thank you," she said softly, lifting her injured arm, "this would have been a lot worse if you hadn't reacted."

"You're welcome, Director." At any other time she might be grateful for his use of her title, an acknowledgement that he understood her authority, perhaps in some way respected it. But right now it felt like a slap in the face, a reminder of all that separated them. She had no doubt that they needed the reminder – she just didn't have to like it.

TBC