A/N: Thanks to Aly!
Jenny Shepard woke up slowly, consciousness creeping in lazily. She could tell it was morning even with her eyes closed; the room was lighter than it was in the dark of night. She tried to comprehend what had woken her up, and eventually realized Jethro was blowing softly in her ear.
"Good morning, Jethro," she murmured into her pillow.
Jenny opened one eye and smiled slightly. Jethro pushed stray strands of hair out of her face and leaned in to kiss her. Jenny relaxed into the pillows and let him lean over her, flattening her palm against his warm shoulder. He curled his leg around one of hers.
"Jethro, your feet are freezing," she informed, trying to wriggle her leg away.
"You stole the blankets," he mumbled back, shrugging.
Jenny whined and tried to pull her leg away again. Jethro clamped his leg down on hers and refused to let her go. Jenny opened her eyes, pulled her mouth away slightly, and glared at him.
"You'll suffer the consequences," Jethro said sternly. He ran his hand lightly over Jenny's back and pulled her closer, grinning as she curled herself into his body heat and shifted her head to share his pillow.
"Not that I don't appreciate being woken up like this," Jenny said softly, lifting an eyebrow, "but did you have to wake me up?"
Jethro nodded pointedly. Rolling her eyes, Jenny propped herself up a little on her elbow and traced circles on his chest with her finger. She'd actually slept well last night, for the first time in a few weeks. Jethro caught her hand and pulled her down over him, running his hand up her back again to tangle in her hair.
She vaguely heard Ducky shouting something from downstairs.
"What's he yelling about?" she murmured unconcernedly, brushing her lips against Jethro's teasingly. She felt him shrug carelessly and he tilted her head to an easier-to-reach position, meeting her eyes as he kissed her.
At that moment, almost too quickly for her to realize what had happened, the door flew open.
Gasping in surprise, Jenny's first thought was to make sure she was covered up, but Jethro had already yanked the sheets over her back. With wide eyes, she turned her head to look, hunching her shoulders and slipping down a little as Jethro leaned up.
"DUCKY!" he shouted, the first time Jenny had actually seen him express shock with anger.
Ducky hardly missed a beat, ignoring Jethro's outburst and Jenny's attempting to crawl under the sheets.
"I'm sorry, Jethro, I shouted for both of you at least three times," he said in a rushed voice, managing to look completely nonplussed.
"What do you want?" Jethro snapped. He still held the covers up around her, and she took them gently and hunkered down next to him, hiding her face in his shoulder.
"Agent Decker is here," Ducky answered, almost before Jethro had finished, "I think you'd better come down."
"Decker?" Jenny mumbled in confusion, peeking out with a furrowed brow. Ducky nodded shortly, and for the first time Jenny noticed he looked stressed and worried. She glanced at Jethro, whose muscles were jumping in his jaw. He narrowed his eyes wordlessly and gritted his teeth, no doubt as uneasy about the announcement as her.
"Get out," he ordered roughly, pointing at the door.
"Jethro, he's beside himself—"
"Yeah, Duck, she needs to get dressed," Jethro interrupted in a growl, glaring at his old friend.
Finally, Ducky seemed to realize his position. He paused, flushed slightly, and started to pull the door shut.
"Right. Of course," he said, clearly flustered. He shut the door as softly as his agitation would let him and Jenny breathed out in relief, unaware she'd been holding her breath at all. Jethro kicked the sheets off violently and sat up, wasting no time.
Jenny straightened up more slowly, her heart still pounding a little faster than necessary, and crawled to the foot of the bed wrapped in the sheet, leaning down to snatch up a wrinkled pair of sweats and the nearest lingerie item.
"Why would Decker be here?" she asked, fastening the strap on her bra effortlessly and disentangling from the sheets to pull on her panties and sweats.
"He shouldn't be," Jethro growled back, fastening a button on his jeans and bending over to fish something out from under the bed. Jenny paused and looked over the bed at the top of his head as he searched, biting the inside of her lip.
"Decker has a panic problem," Jethro said distastefully, "Everything's fine, Jenny," he added sharply, as if he could read her mind. She glared at his unsuspecting arm as he rested it on the bed to push himself up.
"Where's my shirt?" Jenny murmured distractedly, pulling the sheets up to look, ignoring his half-soothing statement. Nothing could be 'fine' if Decker was breaking strict rules and associating with them at their safe house.
"Here," Jethro tossed her his Marine Corp t-shirt and disappeared to find himself another one while Jenny slipped it on without a second thought. She combed her fingers through her hair haphazardly, trying to make herself look presentable, as he practically stormed across the room tugging a white t-shirt on and started to yank the door back open.
Jenny grabbed him by the back of his shirt and stopped him before he could stalk out.
"Hey," she said shortly, turning him around. "Cool it," she warned, not wanting him to go charging downstairs and start in on Decker before he knew what was going on. Jethro gave her a tight-lipped glare and shook his arm.
Jenny ducked under his arm gracefully and turned around in the doorway, running her hand along his jaw lightly with a small smirk to lighten his mood slightly.
"You're just upset because you're not getting laid," she whispered, turning around.
"Which is Decker's fault," she heard him snap in an undertone as he followed her out the door, flipping the bedroom light off on the way.
It was smart of him to lag behind her on the way down, so it seemed at least a little like they were coming from separate directions—especially since it became apparent Decker was pacing the hall next to the stairs when Jenny peeked over the railing. He gave her a relieved, crazed look when he saw her and came around to the base of the stairs, almost running into her as she tried to reach the ground floor.
"Jenny," he said, looking her in the eye, "please tell me Olivia's here."
Jenny opened her mouth in surprise, her eyebrows knitting together. She started to shake her head slowly and stopped, tilting it instead. Jethro brushed past her and took a place at an angle between her and Decker.
"Why would she be?" Jenny asked hesitantly.
Decker put a hand up to his wrinkled forehead and rubbed, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily before he seemed to slump and re-opened them. His eyes looked bloodshot from lack of sleep and he was a little pale. Ducky was right; Decker was clearly in quite a state.
"What's wrong, Will?" she asked.
"I can't find her," he muttered, "Olivia. She's disappeared. I don't know where she is, she's gone," he said in a rush, sounding frustrated and furious.
Jenny's stomach flipped and she sucked in her breath, looking up at Jethro for his reaction. He hardly batted an eyelid, didn't even meet her eyes; he took Decker by the shoulder and turned him firmly towards the kitchen. Jenny swallowed hard and followed him, meeting Ducky's worried eyes as he moved out of Jethro's way from the kitchen doorway into the hall.
She stopped outside the doorway as Jethro practically threw Decker into a chair and Ducky touched her shoulder gently. She looked at him with concern, and Ducky returned the look before turning towards the kitchen, both of them standing in the doorway.
"Lock the front door," Jenny murmured, her eyes focused on Jethro and Decker. Ducky disappeared next to her and went to do her bidding.
"What do you mean she's gone, Deck?" Gibbs asked coolly. "She get pissed at you and take a walk?"
Jenny rolled her eyes in annoyance at the comment. Trust Jethro to assume it was something like that. Decker shook his head vigorously.
"No, dammit, she's gone," he repeated, glaring at Jethro rather impressively, "We were getting along fine. She got a call and said she had to go down to the precinct, even though she was off duty, said she might stop off and shop on the way back," Decker paused and swallowed, reigning in his hysteria a little to steady his words, "She didn't come back by dark so I called. No answer. I haven't seen her, I can't get her on the cell," he trailed off, rubbing his head again and gritting his teeth.
Jethro straightened up and folded his arms, his facial features wiped completely blank. Jenny recognized the expression and felt sick; it was the expression he got when he didn't want to acknowledge how bad a situation could get.
"When was this?" he asked as calmly as possible. Jenny watched him with tight lips and careful eyes, aware he was ignoring her stare and refusing to look at her.
"She went out," Decker stopped and seemed to count back, "Yesterday, early morning. Before seven. She hasn't been back."
Ducky's shoulder brushed Jenny's as he re-situated himself beside her, crossing his own arms. Jenny flexed her fingers at her side, holding onto the doorframe with her other hand. She leaned the side of her head against it and flicked her eyes from Jethro to Decker.
"You don't think she's seeing someone?" Jethro asked shortly, his meaning clear. Decker just shook his head in annoyance, and Jenny shook hers slightly as well.
"She wouldn't go off without telling me; she knows better," Decker answered.
Jethro's eyes rose to Jenny's and he studied her face, as if asking for her opinion. Jenny shook her head slightly, and he looked at her as if to remind her that she herself had run off without telling him before, he just hadn't reacted like an overprotective parent.
"She wouldn't," Jenny said softly, answering his unasked question and accusation. "Kasey's by the book," she added truthfully.
Decker looked up and between them, his brow furrowed again. They sat silently for a few moments that felt like a lifetime, Decker watching Jenny watch Jethro, and then Jethro jerked his eyes away from her and looked at Decker.
"Call her," he ordered.
Decker pulled out his phone and dialed obediently, waiting. Jenny felt tension in the room building; she wished Olivia would pick up her phone and explain herself, even if it was to say she'd run off to a motel with some sleazy French guy. Jethro might kill her himself, but at least it would ease Jenny's horrible feeling.
A feeling of dread settled over her as Decker pulled the phone away and gave Jethro a quiet look.
"Disconnected," he said hoarsely. "It used to just ring off the hook."
Jenny stepped into the kitchen and went immediately over the cabinet, digging out Ducky's preferred Scotch from the back. She wordlessly poured Decker a glass and handed it to him, her pulse refusing to calm down. She felt like screaming. Kasey was one to pitch a fit if someone held their gun a smidgeon off of rulebook regulations, if she was gone it did not bode well. She wouldn't just run off.
"I thought something might have gone wrong with her cover at the precinct, and maybe she'd come here," he mumbled, looking at the glass of scotch longingly. Jenny pushed it towards him insistently. He needed to calm down.
"Is there any reason something might have gone wrong?" Jethro asked shortly. Jenny shot him a look. She wished he'd be a little more gently in his handling of Decker, the man was obviously distraught.
Decker looked at him in disbelief.
"She's been looking over her shoulder since Vance had her bring in the Russian after Shepard shot Assante!" he burst out.
Jenny flinched just slightly. She swallowed to keep her composure but her thoughts started churning dangerously. She didn't want to start thinking Kasey had been kidnapped or something, but everything that had happened lately could have made it a possibility.
"You think he has something to do with this?" she asked quietly, her voice steady. Decker turned to her.
"They do," he said fiercely, "Him! Someone! Something is wrong," Decker stressed pointedly, looking at her pleadingly. "These guys were watching Livy anyway because her job was to draw their attention. Vance wanted the Russian off the streets but I'll be damned if he didn't just fuel that man's vengeance." Decker paused, his eyes flashing, "Olivia would have been better off if she'd let him be," he growled.
Jethro turned away, rubbing his own forehead, his eyes hard and unreadable. Jenny glanced back at Ducky and then took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. Jethro turned back after a silent moment and spoke more forcefully.
"Have you contacted Vance?" he asked coldly.
"First thing I did," Decker muttered, a little offended, "he said it wasn't a cause for worry."
"He said what?" snarled Jethro, and Jenny's eyes narrowed in anger at the thought. Why wouldn't the disappearance of an undercover operative be a cause for worry in Vance's book? For a man she'd never met, Leon Vance sure did a great job of pissing her off.
Decker just looked at Jethro stonily. Jethro set his jaw angrily and gestured to Decker's phone.
"Get him on the line," he ordered. Decker was the only one who had a contact number for Vance.
"I haven't been able to get him since that time,"
"Try again," Jethro growled.
Decker obeyed. Jenny could hear the phone ringing as they waited for Vance to pick up, and the sound chilled her blood. She tried to find Jethro's eyes but he still wouldn't look at her for longer than five seconds. She wished she could go lay her head on his shoulder, but that wasn't a feasible option at the moment. She settled for biting her lip and resting her eyes on his chest instead.
A deep, male voice sounded on the other end of Decker's cell and his eyes widened.
"Vance," he barked, and Jenny relaxed a little.
Decker paused as Vance said something, and then rushed on furiously.
"She's still not come back," he growled into the mouthpiece. There was another pause, as Decker gritted his teeth yet again and curled his hand around his untouched glass of scotch, his knuckles whitening.
"Damn straight it's a problem!" Decker yelled.
Jethro looked like he was about to rip the phone away and give Vance a piece of his mind when Decker suddenly hung up.
"He cut the call," he snarled, slamming the phone shut, "Said to look for her, and he'll see what he can find out."
"Son of a bitch," Jenny hissed, resisting the immature urge to stamp her foot. Decker looked like he shared her sentiments exactly. The blood rushing in her ears, Jenny blinked angrily and drew Jethro's attention to her.
"We don't need to involve him," she snapped. "If he goes asking questions, he could raise suspicion."
"He's the only one who can get access to inside information," Jethro answered.
"He might blow his precious cover," Jenny snarled sardonically. She didn't even know him and her skin crawled when she thought of the attitude of Leon Vance. "Olivia is missing and he's saying it's not cause for worry. Jethro, I don't trust him,"
"You've never met the man, Jenny," Jethro said dangerously.
"I don't think he gives a damn about the welfare of any of us!" she yelled, more out of fear than anger. The men they were dealing with were decidedly not benign; they were powerful, cruel, and immoral, and she didn't want to think about what could happen to Kasey if she was in their hands.
"Jethro, Jennifer," Ducky said softly, mediating as usual. Jethro gave him a cold look, Jenny just ignored him.
"Let him 'see what he can find out'," she mocked, "We can't wait around for that. She could be…hurt," Jenny finished, sparing a glance for Decker. She didn't want to voice her real fears.
Jethro nodded shortly, without even a question to her statement. He knew the importance of not waiting around for Vance to get back to them with any glimmer of a hint he could get about Kasey, if she was indeed in the clutches of Assante's crew.
"Ducky," Jethro said calmly, "How would you like to take a scenic drive around Paris?"
Ducky nodded wisely.
"It would be relaxing, I suppose," he said.
Jethro nodded.
"You aren't gonna see her," he informed him matter-of-factly, "but we need you out there."
Ducky turned on his heel without another word and disappeared, probably for some more appropriate clothing to wear. Jenny turned her eyes to Jethro, waiting for his instructions. He looked at her and Decker in turn.
"Go back to your files, or Kasey's, doesn't matter. Scope out the places she watched these guys. Jen and I can do the same for the seedier places. We'll cover what we can without drawing attention," he paused and lifted his shoulders coldly in a shrug, "that's all we can do. If we can't get anything, from Vance or otherwise," Jethro paused and Jenny was afraid of what he was going to say.
Decker raised his head and looked at Jethro hard, daring him to say something negative.
"We have to call it in to Morrow," Jethro finished smoothly, as if that had been all he was ever going to say. But Jenny knew him better than that; he knew something was wrong. She could see it in his eyes.
"Go, Will," he said shortly, giving the other man a good look, "Meet back here by eighteen hundred."
Decker swallowed hard and stood up, knocking back the entire glass of neglected scotch in one go. He handed the glass to Jenny with a weak smile of thanks and she squeezed his arm sympathetically, unwilling to imagine what he was going through not knowing where his partner was, or if she was all right. If it were Jethro…
But it wasn't. She stopped thinking about that, and set the glass down on the table, watching Decker slip his phone into his pocket and start to leave.
"She could be hurt," Decker said hoarsely, looking at them both. Jenny heard the real meaning in his words and swallowed hard. He meant 'she could be dead'.
"Go find her," Jethro said sharply, his expression that unreadable mask again. Decker stared at him, nodded once quickly, and started out the door, unlocking it and slipping out with a backward nod.
Jenny stood quietly in place, not knowing what to say, uneasy with the turn of events and trying to ignore the sneaking, hateful feeling that this was all her fault at the core. Jethro strode over to her and put his hand on her shoulder tightly, brushing his lips against her forehead.
"Get your gun," he said solemnly in a quiet voice. "This is not your fault, Jenny," he said, saving her from having to voice the words. She didn't answer.
"This is bad, Jethro," she said finally, her voice low.
"Yeah, Jen," he said softly.
"If she's hurt—"
"It is not your fault," he repeated harshly. "We don't even know the story, Jen, she could be off escaping from Deck for all we know."
"Dammit, Jethro, you don't believe that," Jenny snapped. She looked up at him, at his guarded eyes and blank face, and shook her head angrily.
"What's your famous gut saying?" she asked.
Jethro looked at her carefully, gauging her mood, and she swore to herself in that moment she'd kick him if he said something stupid and comforting. He looked at her for too long, almost, and her spirits sank.
"Nothing good," he answered finally.
Jenny pressed her lips together and nodded, trying to steel herself for the possibilities. Jethro squeezed her shoulder just slightly tighter and brushed past her without a word.
Jenny shoved a loose lock of hair out of her face in irritation, willing it to stay behind her ear and relieve her of a little stress. She was cold and uneasy, and she was finding it difficult to keep her hand from lingering at her waist where her SIG was concealed. She didn't want to give up yet, but daylight was slipping away quicker than usual and Jethro had ordered them all back by six.
She held up her phone again, breathing out in annoyance and trying to drag up a few bars of service. She was in the same area of town she'd been during the car stakeout though on an opposite side of the street. She'd spent the day coming up with thousands of crafty different ways of scoping out places, listening in, trying to find anything that hinted of Olivia Kasey. It had been easy when she'd been with Jethro; they just pretended to be a couple completely wrapped up in each other, but alone it was increasingly difficult not to look suspicious.
She and Jethro had split up almost three hours ago. They'd been getting nowhere and decided they might cover more ground apart, even though he'd at first fiercely denied her request to go off alone. She'd made it clear she was going with or without his 'permission' and he'd accepted it angrily, demanding she be back to the safe-house on time. It was six now, and where she was she was going to be late, but she couldn't bring herself to stop.
She couldn't stand the thought of Kasey getting hurt.
Jenny had spoken briefly to Decker, who was fuming after having talked with Vance again. Vance knew nothing, could find nothing, and didn't seem to be overly concerned one way or the other. Jenny had almost smashed her phone into a concrete wall after hearing Decker's desperate voice explain how useless Vance was being. She wanted to meet him, face-to-face, just so she could introduce him to a damn good right hook.
Looking at her phone again, Jenny groaned and snapped it shut, cursing the sketchy service. She would at least call Jethro and tell him she was running late, even if she was technically just refusing to give up. She glanced behind her casually and turned down a side street where a bunch of shops were, perusing the outdoor things carelessly. Her head was killing her, and her feet were as well. Kitten heels hadn't been a good idea in retrospect, but she was supposed to look like a tourist, and a woman in kittenish heels was hardly a cause for concern in most parts of the world.
A teenage boy stumbled into her, laughing, and she gave him a scary look, drawing mumbled apology out of him before he ran off to join the group he'd been rough housing with. This wasn't a nice part of town. Jethro probably would have already kicked the kid's ass, but Jenny was content to place a silent curse on him.
Finding an empty wall outside of a shop, Jenny paused to lean against it, taking in her surroundings. She was south of where she'd shot Assante now, and it was getting darker still. Paper lamps, strings of lights, and broken street lamps lit this street and she took it in distastefully, much preferring the nice parts of Paris to this. A flurry of French reached her ears but nothing was suspicious. She hadn't caught a glimpse of any of their targets in any of their usual haunts, and she was looking damn closely.
She tilted her head up with a silent groan and wrinkled her forehead, breathing deeply to control her emotions. She was terrified. Not of being out alone, but of what they were going to find when they got to the bottom of Kasey's disappearance. She was angry at Vance and at herself and she could not for the life of her get rid of the guilt that was pressing down on her shoulders.
She wanted Jethro. She wished she'd just stuck with him and let him be annoyingly protective and mean to her. Jenny rolled her neck from side to side, wincing at the stiffness, and folded her arms, clutching her phone in her fingers. It was freezing tonight; yet another reason she was regretting leaving Jethro. He was so warm…
Pushing off from the wall, Jenny pushed away the thoughts and started down the street again, reaching the end thankfully and turning onto a much darker one riddled with a few bars and broken up places. Not as many people scampered around her, and she liked the quiet better.
She checked her phone again. Zero bars here. Frowning, Jenny paused and turned slightly, immediately retracting her decision to go this way. Sketchy service was one thing, no service was another and she did not have back up. Her skin crawled uneasily and she checked behind her, just to be cautious. She decided she'd check the Chinese restaurant they'd watched once and head back to bear the brunt of Jethro's anger at her tardiness.
A noise behind her made her pause yet again and she turned, narrowing her eyes. Her muscles tensed up and she chewed the inside of her lip, her blood running cold. She felt like she did the night she was in the alley. Dread started to creep into every nerve in her body and she flicked open her phone—
"Mademoiselle," someone said softly from her left, and touched her hand lightly.
Jenny whipped her head around and started to jerk her hand away, but the man's grip tightened. She looked up silently; her voice caught in her throat, and found dark, expressionless eyes looking at her. He had his hand closed over her phone.
Instantly, she jammed her finger down on speed-dial one, regardless of if the service was working or not. She pulled her arm towards her forcefully and struck out with her foot, causing the man to stumble back with a noise of surprise.
She didn't even see the other come out of the shadows behind her. Jenny went for her gun and had it risen towards the visible attacker when someone grasped her wrist and wrenched it violently to the side. The crack of her broken bone was loud and sickening to her ears and she screamed before she could stop herself, the pain shooting up her arm like thousands of knives.
Blinded by the pain, adrenaline rushed through her blood and she whirled around, trying to see through the white haze, and reached out with her good hand to block anything that came at her. Her assailant grabbed her arm, twisted it behind her back, and swept her feet out from under neath her, sending her crashing to her knees on the rocky concrete.
"Fuck," she gasped
One of the men laughed, sounding surprised. A hand ran down her face lightly and she jerked away, biting her tongue to hold back a yelp as she hurt her wrist trying to fight back. Her foot caught someone in the shin and she heard a curse in what sounded like Russian.
In the next moment, her own gun was smashed against the side of her head, cold, hard, and painful, pressing into her scalp. The hand holding it reached out to touch her cheek and the second man grabbed her face, tilting her head back at the hair.
In her ear, he said in thick, barely understandable English:
"Hello, pretty red bird."
Leroy Jethro Gibbs ignored Ducky's mild remark about him staring a whole through the front door and continued to glare viciously right into it. It was quarter past six now and Jenny had yet to walk through it. He knew he looked angry as hell, but anger had nothing to do with it.
The very last thing he was, was angry.
He was worried and uneasy. She had her phone; she knew they didn't have time for games or being late. This was wrong.
Decker was pacing up and down the hall, fidgeting. He was wrapped up in Kasey, probably hadn't realized that Jenny was fifteen minutes late, and starting to annoy Jethro with his constant movement. Ducky sat on the very last stair, trying to offer comfort even though his expression was becoming increasingly grim.
"Maybe she found Olivia," Decker muttered, pausing and leaning against the stairs. He rubbed his face vigorously, trying to keep awake, and looked at Jethro as if begging him to agree and just make it sound all right. "It would take them longer to get back if Liv is hurt."
Jethro didn't answer. The dumbest thing he could have done after Olivia went missing was let Jenny out of his sight and he'd let her manipulate him into it. Cursing violently to himself, he glanced at Decker, stared at his hopeful eyes, and shook his head slowly.
"Jen would have called," he said shortly.
Ducky was staring at him and he wished the doctor would stop. It was disconcerting to be scrutinized so closely, especially when he knew Ducky was busy interpreting his reactions and trying to shrink him. In frustration, Jethro pressed his speed dial one for Jenny and waited pessimistically for the outcome; she hadn't answered three times already, why would she answer now?
"When you talked to Vance last," Jethro started through gritted teeth, his eyes focused back on the front door, "what did he say?"
Decker mumbled incoherently under his breath through a yawn, rubbing his eyes furiously again and shrugged carelessly, displeasure evident in his eyes.
"He said we'd have a damn good reason to extradite, which is the goal we've been trying to achieve, if they've touched a hair on Kasey's head," Decker stopped briefly and went on, his eyes flashing, and started pacing again, "He hinted she might have been trapped into following them somewhere, which is bullshit—this is Kasey we're talking about, she doesn't chase after random men. He also thinks Livy might have gotten in over her head trying to pull off something herself, you know, getting the dirt on them alone, and ended up in their power,"
Jethro looked at Decker sharply. Something about Vance using that as an explanation didn't seem quite right. That sounded like something Jenny might do, but not Olivia Kasey. She was too, as Jenny had stated, by the book to pull an ambitious stunt and risk her life.
"How long has Vance been under cover here?" Jethro asked probingly.
"A year before us," Decker answered absently.
Jethro stared past his shoulder, thinking slowly.
"He wasn't getting the job done," Jethro snapped under his breath, unconnected thoughts running through his mind. His gut was acting up twice as much as usual, but he couldn't think straight through anything until Jenny walked back into the house. He checked his watch again.
Six-thirty.
"Call Vance," Jethro ordered gruffly, turning and yanking his heavy navy-issue pea coat off of the stair rail.
"Where are you going, Jethro?" Ducky asked quietly.
"Where the hell do you think, Duck? She's still out there!' Jethro answered too quickly, his anger lashing out at Ducky full force.
"I'll keep trying to contact her," Ducky said calmly, ignoring Jethro's tone.
"I'll go with you," Decker muttered, picking up his own coat.
"Decker," Jethro stopped him, giving him a hard look, "go back to your place in the city. Go over everything again. If nothing triggers an idea or an inkling of where she could be, call Morrow. Don't waste time. Then call the police."
Decker shook his head slowly.
"It could cause a disaster. Vance—"
"Jen's right about Vance. He doesn't give a damn. I won't lost an agent if it's preventable," Jethro snarled.
Decker looked at Jethro, half in shock, and then nodded quickly, pressing his lips together. Jethro roughly pulled on his coat and was adjusting the holster of his SIG when his phone went off in his pocket. He jerked it out violently and checked the ID.
Seeing red and at the same time full of relief, he flicked open the phone. It sounded fuzzy and unclear when he held it up to his ear, but he didn't even give her a chance to speak.
"Dammit, Jenny—"
He broke off when he heard her scream. It was quiet and faraway, and muffled by the terrible service, but he recognized it. She sounded frightened. He felt like he'd been punched hard in the stomach and his throat locked up.
"Jen?" he rasped, trying to force sound out of his mouth. It sounded like her phone hit the pavement. He heard a thud and a crunch and then there was nothing but the buzzing of a bad connection.
Ducky and Decker were both staring at him with wide eyes. Decker's face had gone pale. He couldn't say anything. He slowly shut his phone and tossed it in his coat pocket, his jaw set hard and firm.
"Gibbs—" Decker started hesitantly.
"Get Vance on the damn line now," Jethro ordered coldly, shutting down completely. Ducky stood up from his place.
"What's wrong? Jethro?" he asked hurriedly, recognizing the signs of an obvious problem.
"Decker!" Jethro bellowed.
Decker jumped and yanked out his phone, his fingers traveling shakily over the dials. Jethro turned away and paced down the hall, turning around and slamming his fist into the wall violently to release the tension. He kept hearing her scream in his ears and he just wanted it to stop before it drove him mad.
He should have made her stay with him, dammit…
"No answer," Decker said quietly.
Jethro glared at him. He turned without a word and shoved past Decker in the hall, determined to get to Jenny. He wrenched the door open forcefully and stopped dead when it swung open. Leon Vance was standing there, half-slumped in the door, looking pale and slightly sick to his stomach.
He was only partially out of breath.
"The Chinese restaurant, the stakeout," he said, before Jethro or anyone else could say a word to him. Vance looked at him fiercely and straightened up, glaring at Jethro. "Go get her," he ordered.
Somehow Jethro knew Vance meant Jenny. He worked intricately with these guys, he would know what had happened—or he should. He seemed to know nothing about Kasey or anything until this moment.
Decker leapt up behind Jethro eagerly, his shoulders shaking with relief.
"Olivia's all right? You've got her?" Decker asked anxiously.
"Shepard," Vance barked in correction, "If she's all right now she won't be. Go get her," he repeated loudly.
Jethro all but shoved him down the steps in the effort to leave. Vance grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back; Decker came out onto the steps.
"You're not going alone," Vance growled, nodding at Decker. Decker started to pull the door shut.
Jethro threw Vance's arm off of him with a scowl nasty enough to rival the devil.
"I don't need any witnesses," he snarled pointedly, giving Vance a long look. Something about the slight hunted look in the black man's eyes sent his gut into overdrive. He looked like someone who was about to be slaughtered.
"If I find out you had anything to do with this," he said in barely audible undertone, his voice cold as ice and quieter than the wind. He let the sentence hang.
"Find Olivia," he snarled loudly, taking Vance's arm condescendingly and thrusting him at Decker. He stormed down the short drive to the car, his actions quick and violent down to starting the ignition.
He hit the gas, ignoring speed limits. He was completely prepared to outrun any cop who dared mess with him right now; that Chinese restaurant was almost a ten minute drive and he doubt he had a minute of that to spare. It irked him that Vance knew where she was down to the letter. There was something else at play here, something darker than just a blundered mission gone a little bit wrong.
Someone had made a big mistake, and this one wasn't Jenny's.
Jethro tried to breathe. He barely had control over the car at the speed he was driving, and he couldn't hardly see straight for the other concerns he was worried about right now. Leon Vance had already warned that Jenny was a red flag among their targets. They would want information from Jenny, or they would want a sick game.
He tried to quell the uncharacteristic panic. The worst possible scenarios flashed through his mind, most of them containing blood, and he blocked the images from his thoughts as he had right after he'd lost Shannon and Kelly. He hadn't been able to protect Shannon or Kelly; Jenny made it hard for him to protect her.
He couldn't lose her. He realized that now. He loved her and it scared the hell out of him.
He didn't know how he got there or how long it took, but somehow he managed to avoid demolishing everything in his car's wake when it skidded to a painful sounding halt outside the Chinese restaurant where this mess had all started. He got out of the car with his lips pressed together tightly.
The restaurant was empty. Opaque, ominous curtains were drawn all over and the closed sign was flipped on the front door. Through a crooked blind, you could see the chairs all stood on tables inside. Jethro swallowed down the urge to kick down doors guns blazing and strolled down the alley he'd found Jenny in weeks ago, quickly and silently making his way to the back.
The lock was simple to pick. He swung the door open quietly and adjusted his vision to the dark with the skill of a Marine, noting large shapes to avoid and finding a staircase. He heard distinctly boots clunking across the floor upstairs and naturally found his way over to the stairs, pausing at the base.
He could distinguish French, but a cold, monotonous voice was speaking in Russian, laughing softly. Taking the stairs confidently but slowly, Jethro picked out the words carefully, having learned Russian on his two tours in the corp.
"No tears yet, red bird?" the voice made a clicking sound with its tongue.
Jethro reached for his firearm.
"Make her cry. She would be so pretty with tears on her face."
Jethro clenched his jaw, his gun held tightly in his hand now. A thin strip of light fell diagonally down the stairs from where the door was cracked. He listened to the sound of movement and eased up against the wall, angling for a glimpse into the room. A sharp, loud crack sounded and the cold laughter echoed again.
Jethro raised his gun to eye level, pointing it steadily at the crack that left the door open. He could not see the source of the laughter and the mocking, but he could see with one eye a fair view of Jenny's leg. His eyes travelled upward.
The leg was bent under her and she looked like she was kneeling. Shadows shifted and her head dipped back swiftly; someone had pulled her hair back. He couldn't' see her face, but a man bent his face down close to hers and touched her shoulder.
Jenny shrank away and Jethro gripped his gun tightly, fury clouding his vision. He didn't even hesitate for a half of a second; he knew he could make the shot without hitting Jenny and he knew he'd hit the man dead between his eyes. He squeezed the trigger without a thought of how much it would terrify Jenny to have her captor's blood sprayed over her.
The man dropped like a rock and Jenny gasped audibly, the terrified gasp of someone who was sure they'd just been killed. It only took a second for the door to fly open and a flurry of Russian obscenities to reach him. Looking the man straight in his cold, black eyes, Jethro raised his gun before the Russian could even think about his and fired dead center.
He kicked the body distastefully where it fell and expertly scanned the room; they were the only two. His eyes flew to Jenny as he loosened his grip ever so slightly on his SIG. She rocked back on her knees and thrust out a hand to steady herself, coughing violently.
Jethro side-stepped the carnage and was next to her in a heartbeat, crouching down to slide his arm around her waist.
Jenny tried to fight him, her mouth tightening like it always did when she was angry, and she started to twist away. He took comfort in the idea that she'd still been trying to kick their asses even when she was hurt.
And she was hurt, badly.
"It's me. It's me, Jen," he said softly, speaking close to her ear.
"Jethro," she mumbled hoarsely, her voice sounding raw. She turned her head, opening her eyes slowly and looking at him through dull emerald eyes that showed her pain clearly.
"Took you long enough," she said, her words labored.
Her lip was busted and her nose was bruised; there was a scratch down her cheek that looked like the remnants of a backhanded slap with a ring finger. He noticed every time his hands moved at her side, she shied away. Jethro bit his lip until he tasted blood, hardly able to control the anger.
"Come on, Jenny," he said softly, "I've got you."
He rested his gun on his knee and started to help her up slowly. Jenny hissed at him and hunched over, her hand clutching at his abdomen.
"My ribs," she whispered.
Jethro immediately moved his hand away from her waist to her shoulder, pausing.
"Can you stand?" he asked. He wanted to get her home, safe. Where Ducky could fix her.
Jenny nodded stubbornly, and he could see in her face how much it hurt to straighten up. She wrapped her arm around his middle in a rare show of weakness and leaned into him, looping one arm through his and holding it close to her chest. The limited lighting cast her hand in ugly shades of purple and blue.
"Your hand, Jen," he said tightly.
"It's broken," she rasped, her head sinking into his shoulder. He wasn't sure she was fully aware of what was going on. Hesitantly, he started to guide her forward with him, around the two bodies. She stumbled at one point and he looked down; her foot was cut and bloodied, not to mention shoe less.
Jethro swallowed hard and paused.
"You can't walk," he said quietly, hating the sight.
"Yes I can," she answered stubbornly, her nails digging into his abdomen through his thick layers of clothing.
She favored her foot and bit her lip hard down the stairs, refusing to make a sound even though every step was clearly hurting her. Jethro was careful in the dark kitchen are of the Chinese restaurant, desperate not to let her run into anything in her state.
"I think Olivia's dead," Jenny mumbled, gasping as her foot touched the harsh concrete outside.
"Hush, Jenny," Jethro said.
"She's dead, Jethro," Jenny said softly, her voice shaking, "I think they killed her."
Jethro bit his tongue and ran his hand through her hair, steering away from the alley where she'd shot Assante to take the other route back to the car. Jenny's body shook in the cold and he pulled her closer, flinching when she winced in pain and recoiled from the tight touch.
"I'm sorry, Jen," he murmured distractedly.
Jenny stumbled again and he felt her bite into his shoulder with a sharp gasp, trying yet again to hold in her cries. Jethro gritted his teeth and tried to make it easier for her to get to the car. He opened the door, fumbling for his phone.
The world was eerily silent to him, except for her labored breathing and the occasional sounds she made in the back of her throat. He dissociated himself as best he could, retreating into the practical realm to get her home and get her help, hardening the steely exterior so he could support her.
Jethro chucked his phone in the back seat and touched Jenny's face, running his hand over her hair again. Jenny straightened slowly again, her forehead wrinkling, and he stood watch carefully as she got into the car, leaning back against the seat at an awkward angle.
Unable to wait, Jethro stepped up to the car and lifted the dirty, frayed material of her t-shirt to see the damage, touching his hand softly to the fair skin around her ribs that was now red and purple.
"It hurts," Jenny whispered hoarsely, her eyes fluttering open to look at him.
"I know," he met her eyes, his fingers skimming over her bare skin soothingly. He reached up slowly to touch her face, tilting it a little to look at the damage, his throat locked painfully again. He ran his finger down the length of the red scratch on her cheek, watching her wince, vehemently wishing he had the chance to shoot the man who'd done this to her again.
Jenny's eyes fluttered again and she sucked in her breath, her shoulders trembling. She looked weak, hurt, and scared and he hated it. He hated being reminded that she wasn't the invincible Queen she pranced around like every day. He hated that she was breakable.
"I didn't tell them anything," she said softly, fiercely.
Jethro tilted her head towards him and leaned forward, pressing his lips to her hot forehead gently. It was so good to touch her and know she was all right—or at least know that she would be. He pulled his head back and studied her closely, trying to shake the feeling that he'd let her down by letting this happen.
"Jen, I love you."
Jenny rested her head back against the seat's shoulder. She nodded her head slowly and reached up with the hand that wasn't broken to touch his hand. He let his fingers slide over her bloody cheek and lips and tore his eyes away, shutting the car door and making his way to the other side.
He hadn't even meant to say it, he just felt like she should know.
Jenny shifted and moaned softly as he started moving the car, a grimace spreading over her lips. Jethro gripped the steering wheel tightly with one hand and reached over to stroke her hair with the other, refusing to look at her.
She kept mumbling about Kasey and he just ran his free hand through her hair, trying to quiet her down. He stared at the road without seeing it, seeing only her, hurt and curled in the front seat, and a snapshot of his favorite memory of Shannon. There was too much going on for him to deal with what he'd said, he was too angry, too concerned, too many emotions.
He felt like he shouldn't have said it at all, even if he did love her with an intensity that scared him, that he hadn't even realized yet, and even if it had meant everything to hear her say she loved him.