Average: Chapter 9
The British embassy in Washington DC was located on 3100 Massachusetts avenue, Surrounded by a low-walled fence-topped perimeter with three gates facing the road, two of which were currently closed.
Harry slowed his agency saloon car as he gently turned onto the driveway, briefly stopping as he flashed his SIS ID to the gate guard eliciting a startled wave through. Harry offered the man a grim smile as he drove past, aware that his current beat down appearance probably gave the impression that he'd just come out of a street fight. Forgoing the chancery, Harry drove up to the Ambassador's residence, a beautiful brick building in the design of a British countryside try manor, and parked up.
Pulling the keys out if the ignition, Harry opened the door and walked to the other side of the car to open the door for the ministers daughter, offering her his hand as she stepped out. She took it with a shaky smile that Harry returned with a gentle squeeze of her hand.
"Relax," Harry said with a kind smile. "You're safe now; you'll be back in England in no time. You'll be safe in the Embassy until travel can be arranged." He finished, leading her slowly to the door of the Ambassador's residence with a hand on the middle of her back.
"Thank you." She said earnestly, her voice still slightly tremulous. "I still don't know who you are though, I don't even know your name?"
"My name's unimportant." Harry said as he held the door open for her. "And I told you, I work, indirectly, for your father" he finished as he followed her through the door into the richly decorated entrance hall of the Ambassadors home.
"But what does that even mean though? My father is the head of diplomatic relations; I hardly take you for a diplomat." She stated, looking at him curiously.
Harry grimaced slightly as he headed towards the private office of the Ambassador, where the Ambassador should be waiting. He probably shouldn't talk about his job but at the same time he hardly thought it would harm him if the daughter of his overall boss knew why he answered to him. "Your father's office is also the overall head of SIS, or MI6 as we're more commonly known, that means that my boss answers to your father, making him my overall boss. Meaning that I work, indirectly, for your father." Harry explained, leading her up a dark wood staircase.
She stopped abruptly, two steps beneath him, and looked up at his face with wide eyes. "You mean you're a spy?" She exclaimed in quiet shock.
Harry gave her a short look, more a grimace than a smile. "In essence yes, though the correct term is intelligence officer."
"In was rescued by a spy." She whispered quietly to herself as she started up the stairs again.
Harry shook his head slowly as he led the way to the Ambassadors office, hoping that the ministers' daughter would keep this to herself.
Stepping through the door to the Ambassadors office, closely followed by the ministers' daughter, Harry came face to face with the Ambassador himself. Sir David Manning, current British Ambassador to the United States of America and former British Ambassador to Israel.
David manning was a thin, bespectacled, man with thinning grey hair and a narrow face, strong nose, and grey eyes. He was wearing a black pinstripe suit with a red tie and was currently leant against the front of his desk.
"Ah, agent Potter, I was informed of your expected arrival." He spoke, with moderately deep voice, his RP accent prominent. "I assume from your presence that all is in order?" He asked, his eyes flickering over to the ministers daughter with a slightly raised eyebrow.
"Of course sir." Harry answered, adopting the at ease position. "Everything is tied up. I assume you will arrange for the ministers daughter to travel home at the earliest convenience?" Harry asked, as if the young woman in question was not even there.
Sir David nodded once. "Indeed. Her Majesty's government extends its thanks for your efforts."
Harry returned the nod firmly. "Thank you sir, if that will be all?" He asked.
The Ambassador waved him off. "Of course, go, make your report. I believe that the minister will be most pleased with your success." He turned to the young woman. "Now my dear, time to ensure your safe return to England." He offered her a slight smile and Harry quietly left the room, catching the ministers daughter giving him a shy look as he left.
Harry walled at a quick but unhurried pace back to his car, favouring his injured ribs as he went. He unlocked the black agency saloon, slipped into the driver's seat and keyed the ignition before pulling away.
The Drive back to NCIS went quite fast as traffic was light and Harry made it to the headquarters building in thirty-five minutes from the Embassy. Pulling up in the car park, Harry stepped out of his car, slung the M4 over his shoulder and locked the door. He left the Redhawk in the glove box. Walking towards the building Harry spotted Ziva waiting just before the checkpoint, following him with Narrowed eyes. He offered her a sheepish smile as he drew up in front of her.
"Hey." He said.
"Are you okay?" She asked tightly, a small twitch in her jaw. Now that he was closer Harry realised that Ziva looked mildly frazzled. Nothing too obvious but just enough to show the signs to someone who knew what to look for.
Harry let out a ragged breath and ran a hand down his tired face before replying. "I'll live." He said with a self-deprecating chuckle.
"Good." She said simply, before her fist snapped out and struck Harry in the Jaw, whipping his head to the side.
He went to reach for his jaw, exclaiming. "Ah! What the fu-"
Ziva grabbed his cheeks in both hands and turned him to face her, her brown eyes glaring into his green. "You stupid Tahat! You could have died. Do you understand that? You made a childish mistake and it could of killed you." Her voice was rough and her glare was angry, but her hands were soft and gentle on his face.
Harry reached up and took her small hands in his own bruised ones. "I know." He said, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles. "Trust me, I know I made a mistake and I know why I made that mistake. It won't happen again." He finished his voice quiet and calm.
Ziva glared at him for a moment longer before her eyes softened. "Okay." She nodded. "Are you sure you're alright?" She asked.
Harry let go of her hands and grimaced slightly. "I think my ribs are broken and I'm going to have one hell of a headache in the morning but other than that I think I'm fine." He said, rubbing his side where the jacket had taken the Redhawk round.
Ziva gave him an unimpressed look. "Well, you shouldn't have gotten shot then."
Harry gave a dry chuckle as he began to head towards the security Checkpoint into the building. "I'm well aware of that, thanks."
After a few shocked looks at Harry's appearance, the M4 slung over his shoulder and his SIS badge, Harry was waived through the checkpoint and followed Ziva up to MTAC. Pointedly trying to ignore the way her cargo trousers clung to her backside. He didn't manage it all that well but at least he could say that he'd tried to ignore it it, eh?
Ziva knocked on the large security door to MTAC, lacking the clearance to open it herself, and waited until it opened. As it swung inwards Harry was met by a grim looking Tony.
"You're damn lucky you know Harry." We're the first words out of his mouth as he looked over his friend in concern.
"Trust me mate." Harry began, giving Tony a wan smile. "I know. Ziva has already hammered that point home."
Tony nodded and then clapped his hand on Harrys shoulder. "I'm just glad you're okay buddy."
Harry winced as the friendly gesture agitated his injured ribs. "So am I Tony." He said. "But you gotta be a little gentler mate, I feel like I've been hit by a truck."
Tony gave him a sheepish smile and a short laugh. "Right, sorry. Anyway, the director is in here waiting for you. I think your handler is talking to her at the moment." He said, holding the door open for Harry and Ziva to slip past into the small, cinema like, room.
Harry walked to the front of the room, head up and only favouring his injured side slightly, as Ziva went to lean against the wall and Tony sat back down in one of the cinema like seats.
There, on the bank of screens dominating the front wall, was the image of Harrys handler, James Brass, currently talking to Director Shepard. Next to Shepard stood Gibbs, watching the exchange with disinterest as James was explaining his role of handler and what it entailed in SIS.
"- so basically, I'm a glorified babysitter. Remind me to tell you about the time he got duped by a Russian agent in Prague." Harry caught the tail end of The conversation between James and Director Shepard as he reached the front of the room.
Harry's ears reddened, much like Ron's used to back in school, as he heard the mention of Prague. "I hope you aren't spreading vicious rumours about me again James."
"The rumours surrounding Miss Romanova are varied and numerous. Unfortunately for you Prague is fact not rumour Harry." James said with a grin, addressing his favourite agent. Or, at least, Harry thought he was James favourite Agent. After all, the competition was quite slim, James other two agents that he oversaw, kendricks and white, weren't special operations and we're in fact, quite boring.
"That's a damn lie James, and I'd thank you to not repeat it as truth." Harry said awkwardly as he shuffled on the spot at the thought of the Prague debacle.
"Of course Harry, complete slander I'm sure." James said with a shit eating grin before he looked at the Director. "I'll tell you later." He said with a stage whisper, much to the Directors amusement.
"Anyway." James began, turning serious. "The ministers daughter is safely ensconced in the Embassy and Is unharmed, due in no small part to you agent. The mission is a technical success." James paused for a moment and pushed his glasses up his nose. "That does not mean that I'm pleased however. You slipped up agent and compromised yourself."
Harry flushed in shame and looked down briefly before meeting his handlers' eye once more. "I know. I made a mistake and I paid for it. It shan't happen again." He said earnestly.
James looked at him for a moment before nodding. "Good. Don't cock up again, next time you might not survive it and then C will probably saddle me with some special sort of dribble who needs someone to wipe his chin. I do not need that shit Potter." James said with a look of consternation. "So for my sake, don't get kacked."
Harry nodded with a small grin. "I'll do my best."
James gave him a final nod. "Good. Now, in light of your success you've been given some rest days. Your next report isn't due in until next week now. I'll speak to you then agent. Continue to aid NCIS in whatever capacity they desire and keep out of trouble." The feed flickered off and Harry turned back towards the room, the director, and 'Team Gibbs'.
"A word, if I may, agent Potter?" The Director asked, looking at Harry with a curiously blank face as she moved to the side of the room, the eyes of the team and the petite techie from earlier following her over.
"Of course Director." Harry said with a genial smile as he followed her to where she stood.
"Now, agent Potter, two questions." She said, her mouth set in a severe line. "Are you reporting on NCIS at regular intervals?" Came her blunt question.
Harry raised his hands as he replied. "No director, I am not. My reports are about my involvement alone with anything here. Basically reporting back that I actually deserve to be paid and that I'm not simply dossing about. The only report I've filed with anything other than 'all is as normal' is my report on the Rainier case and even then it was simply to update the records to show their status as deceased." Harry said calmly.
Director Shepard studied his face for a moment, looking for any signs of duplicity. And really, she shouldn't find anything, Harry was telling the truth after all. He wasn't reporting on NCIS, SIS couldn't care less about a minor federal agency, he was reporting on Ziva, and only then because of who her father was. If anything Harry was indirectly reporting on Eli David.
After a moment Shepard gave Harry a nod. "Alright Potter I'm going to take your word on this, but if I think, even for a moment, that you're committing illegal espionage against the United States government then I'll have you deported so fast your glasses will spin. Am I understood?"
"Of course Director." Harry said, bowing his head slightly
"Good." She said with a smile. "Onto my second question though. Prague?" Shepard asked with an impish smile.
Harry let out a long suffering sigh and reddened slightly as he turned to leave. "Another time director. I need to return some things to your armoury and agents."
"Of course Potter, but I do expect an answer at some point." Her voice, and laugh, followed him as he walked stiffly back to 'Team Gibbs'.
Tony greeted him with a grin as Harry walked over. 'So, Harry, what did the director say that's got you so hot under the collar?" He made some cheesy noise like a seventies porno. "Looks like she just made a pass at yo-"
Gibbs leant over and slapped Dinozzo around the back of the head with a tired sigh, almost as if it were a chore at this point.
"Right, shutting up now boss." Tony said, sitting upright.
Harry chuckled slightly at his friends' predicament and sat down slowly. "No Tony, the director asked if I was spying on NCIS." He admitted.
"Are you?" Gibbs asked, direct as always.
Harry shook his head. "No." Was his simple answer. Gibbs nodded, seemingly accepting his answer, though Harry had the feeling that if he thought otherwise then Harry have been made to leave long before now.
"That still doesn't explain why you're all flushed though." Tony said, the grin creeping back up his face.
Harry gave him a short, un-amused, look. "The director asked me about something James mentioned, suffice to say it was an embarrassing situation I would prefer not to talk about."
Tony looked at him, his grin growing ever larger. "Is this about the Romanova woman your handler brought up?"
"Yes." Harry ground out. "Now, I should probably take this-" He patted the butt of the M4 slung across his shoulder. "Back to the armoury. I'll drop your boots off to your desk when I'm done." Harry finished, looking at Gibbs as he stood up.
The man nodded before he spoke. "Ziva, go and open the armoury for agent potter, tag the weapon used and the vest DFT. I'll be in here a while so his shoes are in the bottom drawer of my desk."
Ziva stood from where she was leant against the wall and headed for the door, Harry following behind. "Of course Gibbs."
The walk to the armoury was short and quiet as Ziva led the way and Harry absent mindedly followed, nursing his ribs as he went.
Ziva opened the door and held it as Harry walked through. He unslung the carbine, released the magazine, emptied the chamber, fired off the action, made sure the safety was on and then handed it over to Ziva. She put it back on the rack and placed a red label over the barrel signifying that the weapon had been used and needed to be cleaned and inspected before being checked out again. needed Next came the spare magazines. Harry checked each one and then placed them into an ammo box of the wall before unloading the used magazine and placing the rounds and empty magazine in different separate boxes. Then came the hardest part, Harry undid the Velcro torso straps of the vest and went to pull it over his head, groaning as he did.
"Let me help you." Ziva said softly, placing her hand on Harrys shoulder to still his arms.
"I've got it." Harry insisted, going to pull the vest again. Ziva stopped him.
"Don't be so stubborn." She frowned, lifting the vest over his head - eliciting a pained grunt from Harry.
She took the vest and placed it on a table, sticking a red DFT label on the front, before turning to Harry and reaching for the buttons on his shirt. He placed his hands over her own. "What are you doing?" He asked.
"Checking your ribs." She answered, swatting his hands away. "Take a deep breath and hold it." She ordered after she'd finished unbuttoning his shirt. Harry did as he told and tried to push the pleasurable tingle from her hands running over his ribs to the back of his mind. "You're lucky." She said, dropping her hands from him. Harry fought off a frown from the loss of contact. "Nothing's broken but you'll be sore for days." The frown was back and more pronounced. "You need to be more careful. You're one of the only friends I've made since joining Mossad, I won't have you dying due to your own stupidity."
Harry set about doing his shirt back up and looked at her briefly as he did. "I'll be around a while Ziva, I wouldn't worry too much about it."
She shot him A glare. "Not with an attitude like that you won't."
Harry sighed as he finished buttoning his shirt. "What about the team here at NCIS? You seem friendly enough with them." He asked, trying to change the subject as she turned away from him and stared at the damaged vest.
"They're my friends as well but it isn't the same. They don't understand the world we live in in the same way. To them the world of espionage is a distant thing, something done by people behind the scenes. They get the intelligence, they don't know the people who gather it for them. The things we do, the things we do for the job, they are often distasteful, there is no black and white in our world, just varying shades of grey." She ran her hand over the bullet impacts in the vest. "You understand that, I understand that, we live that, they don't." She looked up to his eyes. "So if you throw your life away because of a petty mistake I won't just be angry Harry, I'll be disappointed. I expect more from SIS. You said it yourself Potter, your agency wrote the book on this job. You need to act like it."
Harry looked to the ground in shame as Ziva left the room.
'She's right...' Harry thought to himself as the door shut with a click.
Harry was not prone to self-doubt, at least not anymore, but what Ziva had said held weight. She was right; he needed to up his game. He couldn't make mistakes, not if he ever wanted to ever advance beyond junior agent. He'd made a mistake that a senior agent wouldn't even think of making. Making mistakes in his line of work got people killed and he'd be lucky if he was the only one his mistakes would end. He looked up and rubbed his tired face. He couldn't afford to make any more mistakes, he needed to get his shit together and sort it out. This was not a game this was a job, a deadly serious job and he had to act like it. He couldn't underestimate his opponents or overestimate his own abilities anymore. He shook his head and headed to the door with conviction, what had happened today wouldn't happen again, he wouldn't fuck up again. He was better than that, he knew that, he was trained to be better than that, he had to be better than that.
He left the armoury, heading to the bullpen with new determination. He worked for MI6 the oldest intelligence agency in the world still active, he was trained by the best to be the best, he came from a line of men and women of excellence, these mistakes were beneath him and he would bloody well begin to act like it.
Harry stepped into the bullpen, head held high, and walked a over to Gibbs desk, fetching his shoes from the bottom drawer he unlaced the boots and placed them into the drawer before undoing Tony's jeans and taking them off. He placed the jeans on Tony's desk and stood in the bullpen for a moment in his underwear before he took his trousers from where he left them on Ziva's desk and slipped them on.
Ziva was leant against the desk watching this all whilst the rest of the team was still in MTAC.
"Come over tonight." Harry said As he buckled his belt, looking at her. "I want to talk to you but I need to sort some things out first." Ziva watched as he picked up his coat and nodded as he turned to face her.
"I'll stop by on the way home." She said quietly.
"Okay." Harry said as he headed towards the lift.
The Drive home was slow as Harry got caught in rush hour traffic and had stopped at an off licence to pick up a bottle of whisky and a pack of cigarettes, a guilty pleasure he rarely partook in. It was pushing six o'clock as he pulled up outside his agency arranged apartment. Taking the keys from the ignition he stepped out of the car and locked it with a beep as he went to the door to the apartment block and let himself in. Walking to the third floor Harry let himself into his apartment and placed his keys in a bowl by the door. He took his coat off and placed it on the rack in the hallway before taking the bottle of whisky to the kitchen, grabbing a glass, and heading to sit on the small armchair facing the window overlooking Washington. He screwed off the cap, poured himself three fingers, and sat back with a contented sigh. Looking to his right at the small table next to the armchair he placed the bottle on it and pulled the empty ashtray closer before pulling a cigarette from the packet and placing it between his lips. He snapped his fingers, conjured a small flame and brought it to the tip of the cigarette. He lent back, releasing a plume of smoke from between his lips and closed his eyes. Cigarettes weren't something that Harry regularly indulged in but after a rough day he found that one with a glass of whisky took the edge off. He tapped the ash into the tray and took a sip from his glass, relishing the warmth that flowed down his throat and pooled in his stomach.
Ziva would arrive within the hour and Harry was going over what he'd say in his head. What she'd said earlier had been a painful truth that he'd needed to hear. He was a part of the best, now he needed to act like it and that was what he was going to say. He wasn't going to make mistakes anymore, they were beneath him.
Taking another drag of his cigarette Harry stood and stepped up to the window, looking out over the Washington skyline. He exhaled and watched as the plume of smoke spread over the glass of the window before dissipating. He took a sip of whisky and looked down to the people walking to and from bars and restaurants, milling about without a care in the world. That was why he did the job he did. Harry worked in the shadowy world of espionage because deep down he still had his 'saving people thing'. He worked for MI6 because he believed the work that he did saved lives, and it did. He drained his glass and walked to the ashtray, stubbing out his cigarette and placing the glass on the table, before heading to the ensuite to shower.
Fifteen minutes later found Harry stood in the ensuite towelling off in the rapidly disappearing steam of his shower. Running the towel over his hair quickly Harry stepped out into his bedroom, chucking the towel into the linen basket as he went to the wardrobe. He pulled on a loose pair of winter pyjama trousers and a soft t-shirt before walking towards the small kitchenette and flipping on the kettle as he pulled a mug from the cupboard.
Moments later Harry sat back in his armchair, a mug if warm tea cradled between his long fingers as he waited for Ziva to arrive.
Twenty minutes later Harry was still in the armchair, mug long since cold on the side table, when there was a sharp rap on the door. He stood, stretched and went to the door. Placing his hand against it, ready to fire off a confringo were the person on the other side a threat, he looked through the peephole and saw Ziva stood outside. He opened the door.
"C'mon in." He said with a smile as he stepped to the side and held open the door. She walked through, heading towards the living room. Harry followed just behind after closing the door. "So, can I get you a drink?" He asked as she settled herself in his armchair.
"Coffee please." She said simply, looking about his small living space.
Harry nodded and moved into the small kitchenette separated from the living room by a half wall. He was struck by the awkwardness of their conversation, a stark contrast to their earlier interactions. He flipped the kettle on and grabbed a mug, putting a spoonful of coffee in as did.
A few moments later Harry walked back into the living room, handed Ziva her coffee and went to lean against the wall by the window.
"Look." Harry said as she took a sip of her drink. "I just wanted to tell you that you were right. What you said earlier about needing to act like it, I, I needed to hear it. I was cock and I messed up because of it. I just wanted you to know that it wouldn't happen again."
Ziva looked at him over the rim of her cup ad she took another sip. "Good." She answered before a smile spread across her features. "Because I meant what I said earlier. I don't want to lose yo- a friend, over a petty mistake." The stumble was fast and easily missed, but it was there, catching Harry's attention. Now however was not the time to delve into it.
"Well, you don't have to worry about that." Harry said with a grin and a shrug. "I'll be around a while yet." He chuckled. "After all, it's not as if the brass at SIS are scrambling the have me back just yet. I think they're quite enjoying having me out of their hair." 'And the fact that they have me looking into you at the same time is just an added bonus for them...'
Ziva gave a slight chuckle before leaning back in Harrys chair. She looked at him, a smirk twisting her lips, took a strand of hair between her fingers and began to curl it before speaking. "So Harry, Miss Romanova?" She asked.
Harry let out a load groan and looked skyward.
'I'm never gonna live this down...'
A/N: An update, really? Wow, fuck me right?
Anyway, I apologise for the poor quality of this chapter, it was typed up on my phone as and when I got a free moment throughout the last few days. that said, hopefully the next chapter will be much more coherent as I get back into the swing of things. as always, Read Review and have a good day. :)