A/n:
WARNING: M RATED, FOR A SNIPPET OF SEXUAL CONTENT TOWARDS THE END OF THIS CHAPTER.
Jenny paced the hall of Bethesda, outside her agent's room, one hand at her back, the other running hurriedly through her mussed locks. Gibbs and the rest of his team remained in their seats, simply following her frantic movements with their eyes.
"Sit down Jenny," Gibbs muttered from his place between Tim and Ziva.
She stopped pacing to turn and look at him. "I can't," she mumbled, going back to pacing. Tony could be dead, and it was her fault. They had arrived on the scene, to be immediately overwhelmed by the panic, and flashing lights, and wailing sirens. They had seen the charred remains in Tony's car, and it was painfully obvious that the fun loving Italian was gone. She had felt the stares of hatred burning into her back, Ziva's being the strongest. She had stood, the smell and sight churning her stomach, intending to survey the damage of the other car, only to stop as her world seemed to move in slow motion. She swore Tony passed her on a stretcher, despite the fact that his face was nearly unrecognizable through the gashes and abrasions covering him.
She had spun in bewilderment, to look at the others, seeing mirrored expressions on their faces. Jeanne Benoit soon passed by as well, much in the same predicament as Tony. She searched frantically for any signs of Renee Benoit, but he was nowhere to be found; alive or otherwise. She sincerely hoped the man had perished in the crash.
The doctor had tentatively informed them of Tony's chances. They were not good; 30%.
He had been, not in his car, but in a car with La Grenouille and Jeanne Benoit. The former was still nowhere to be found, whereas the latter had been rushed into surgery in critical condition, along with Tony.
They now stood, well she stood, in the hallway outside his room awaiting any information; good or bad, preferably good.
As the earlier images flashed through her mind as if on replay, Jenny felt bile rising in her throat and set off in a quick stride toward the bathroom. She busted through the door of the first vacant stall she saw, and kneeled to the floor, emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet. She coughed, and felt someone hold her back from behind her. It was only when she stopped retching that she realized just who it was; the tell-tale scent of bourbon and sawdust was a dead giveaway.
She stood to her feet and pushed past him. "This is the women's bathroom you know Jethro," she said, clearing her throat to get rid of its scratchy quality.
He simply stared, and she scoffed moving past him, only to have him grab her by the arm, and drag her back to him. She eyed him, her eyes flashing at his tenacity.
"You need to cal down Jenny," he warned, his voice low.
"Calm down?" she demanded, "How do you expect me to calm down when Dinozzo is in the hospital, in critical condition, and the man who put him there is nowhere to be found?"
"You put Dinozzo in here Jenny," he growled, and she yanked her arm from his grasp, storming out of the ladies' room.
Tony had not been released from surgery until three hours later, that being the reason that Jenny was only just walking through the door to her house at 2200. She had left the hospital as soon as they received the news that Tony was alright, even if only for that time, and returned to the office. The doctor had told them that the next seventy-two hours were still critical for him, but Jenny knew that she did not belong there in his room. Gibbs was right. She had put him there. He would not want to see her face there when he woke up, and as well he shouldn't.
She groaned in frustration when her phone rang in her purse, and she had to rummage reach through the deep abyss that was her purse to find it. Becoming a mother had changed her, one noticeable difference being that she no longer carried a small purse for everyday use, or God forbid, nothing at all. "Hello?" she answered, kicking the front door shut behind her.
There was a slight pause at the other end of the line before the heavily accented French voice made her stop in her tracks. "Good evening Madame Director."
"Good evening," she greeted more formally, and somewhat suspiciously, dropping her keys on the foyer table. He did not sound in pain or distress. Had he escaped the blast unscathed? "I've been told you want to meet me."
"Long overdue. I'm sure."
She assumed a murderous gaze, despite the fact that he could not see her, or so she thought. "Just tell me where, and when," she growled. She gasped in surprise, slowly bringing her phone from her ear as the man in question appeared in the doorway to her study.
"Now. In your study."
"Hello Jenny," he addressed her. She should have been frightened, terrified even, but there was something in his expression that told her there was no need to be.
She set her jaw, crossing the room to breeze past him. Moving behind her desk, she motioned for him to sit, an offer he declined.
"So here we are at last," he murmured, meeting her gaze, "face to face."
"Not exactly the way I expected to meet."
He took the earlier offered seat, and she soon followed. "I have to compliment you on your pursuit," he praised, "I actually liked your Agent, Dinozzo?"
"So does your daughter," she bit back smartly.
"Very much, yes," he agreed, nodding.
"What do you want from us?" she demanded, just being in his presence starting to make her skin itch.
"In exchange for my extensive knowledge of the arms dealings, I want protection," he said, "for my daughter."
"Protection? From who?" Why would Jeanne Benoit need protection?
Before the man across from her could respond, she had to bite back a gasp of surprise as Gibbs appeared in the doorway, answering the question for the man. "From whoever tried to kill his daughter this morning."
She eyed Grenouille warily as he stood, for any signs of sudden movement. She was not so sure what protection he had brought with him, or how far he would go to get what he wanted. He addressed Gibbs, clearly aggravated with the interruption. "Agent Gibbs I believe?" Gibbs merely glared, and Grenouille turned back to Jenny, "But yes it is true. My enemies have come after my daughter. They want to see me suffer. But she is safe, for the time being."
"I wouldn't exactly call bed ridden in a hospital, lying in a coma, safe," Jenny contradicted him with venom-laden words.
"Which enemies?" Gibbs demanded from his place in the doorway, cutting her off from further prodding.
" I have very many," Grenouille replied without turning to face the younger man.
"Why now?" Jenny asked, finding it just too much of a coincidence that his enemies had decided to attack his daughter on the same day she was in a car with her father, and an NCIS agent, and Gibbs had certainly taught her about coincidences.
"This have something to do with operation Lodestone?" Gibbs asked, once more cutting her off, and she eyed him pointedly, getting aggravated with his tactics.
La Grenouille was obviously shocked at Gibbs' extensive knowledge, and voiced his opinion, "He is well informed."
"Read us in."
"On what? The arrogance of the CIA to make me the biggest arms dealer in the world?"
Gibbs pieced the puzzle together, and spoke. "You control the illegal arms trade. The CIA controls you."
La Grenouille clearly disliked hearing that he was controlled by anyone, and he spun to face Gibbs finally. "That was the idea," he spat, coming to stand in front of Gibbs, "But you came along, and someone found out. Another arms dealer perhaps. Hmm?" He paused, distaste dripping from his next choice of words. "And I am running out of time. I can no longer trust Kort."
Gibbs chuckled wryly. "Did you ever?"
Grenouille smiled tightly, and Jenny stood from her chair, a snarl on her face. "This isn't the first time you were in this study."
"No," he agreed, turning back to her, "I met your father here. On occasion." He stopped surveying the room, clearly noticing the small changes she had made. Her heart hammered in her chest as his eyes landed on a picture of the twins, and she spoke again, intending to draw his attention back to her. "Tell me about him," she whispered, her voice holding an unusual desperation.
"He was a fine man," Grenouille clipped shortly, "He had a conscience. One that…got the better of him."
She narrowed her eyes at the reference to her father's death, and her expression held an almost deranged amusement. "You believe the story that my father took a bribe while overseeing an arms reduction treaty?"
"I'm sorry. That is not a story. That's fact," he replied plainly.
"How do you know?" she demanded, wondering if he could really say something prove to her, her father's guilt.
"Because I paid him, that bribe," he replied matter-of-factly, and Jenny's expression made it clear that she was losing control.
She grabbed her gun from her drawer, and pointed it at the French man in her study. "No," she contradicted him. She knew the truth. "You killed him," she insisted, "because he wouldn't take it."
Grenouille shrugged slightly, his voice more or less uncaring. "I can understand how hard it can be to accept." As she rounded the corner of the desk, he continued, "My daughter. She is facing the same struggle."
She advance on him with the gun, only to have Gibbs cut in. "It's not loaded," he said, "I guess he beat you to it."
She looked at him incredulously, and looked back to the gun, unloading the cartridge, to find it empty. Grenouille spoke softly, his voice bordering on pompous. "I didn't want you to do anything rash before I had the chance to…explain myself." He took a breath, before meeting her eyes once more. "I need your protection."
"You have the bullets," she spat, "take the damn gun!" she growled, shoving it into his hands, "Protect yourself!"
Grenouille looked to the unloaded gun in his hands, and said, "You are signing my death warrant."
"Twelve years overdue," Jenny stressed vehemently, back behind her desk once more.
He made a scoffing sound and smiled tightly, placing a piece of paper on her desk. "My card. In case you change your mind."
"You better leave before I do," Jenny hissed, any semblance of control gone.
Grenouille nodded contritely, turning to leave. At the door, he turned back briefly. "I hope my daughter is as loyal to her father, as you are to yours."
Jenny remained silent, and the man pushed past Gibbs, bumping his shoulder roughly. Grenouille stopped once more before making his final exit. "I suppose congratulations are in order," he said nodding to her belly, which had become visible where her blazer had fallen open, "I'm sure your father would have liked to meet the child." Hearing the door close behind him, Jenny reached for the bourbon in her liquor cabinet.
"You just let you personal obsession get in the way of your professional obligations, Gibbs accused her.
"That's a lot of crap and you know it Jethro," she spat, grabbing the tumbler of alcohol from the glass counter top, "There are no deals for men like him. You want to chase after him right now and arrest him with out a warrant, you go right ahead! We both know the court will have him out before breakfast."
"Then get a damn warrant!"
"You get a warrant," she shot back childishly. "But you better do it fast before his friends get a hold of him first."
He scoffed, and turned to leave as she took a long gulp of the amber liquid in her hands. He turned back abruptly, and demanded of her, "If I weren't here, and that gun was loaded, would you have pulled the trigger?"
She held the glass down by her stomach again, and turned to him, smirking. "I guess we'll never know will we?"
He scoffed disbelievingly, taking the loaded bullet cartridge from his pocket, and placed it on her desk, before turning to stride out of the room. She eyed the cartridge disdainfully before lifting the glass to her lips once more, only to jump as her front door busted open again.
Her head shot up as Gibbs came storming back into the room.
"Just thought you might like to know the Jacob walked today," he spat, and she barely concealed a gasp as she tightened her grip on her glass. "He walked to Hollis," he continued, and she met his spiteful gaze, her eyes full of hurt.
"Why would you tell me that?" she demanded, "Why do you insist on trying to hurt me?"
"Because you need to know what you're doing Jenny," he growled, advancing on her, "You almost killed Dinozzo today. He's still not in the clear. You know Abby wanted to throw you a baby shower, but she was afraid of how you'd react. Can't say I blame her the way you screamed at her; the way you've been snapping at everybody. You put Leilah and Jacob in danger."
She cut him off fiercely, contradicting him, "No! I never put them in danger!"
"You wanna bet Jen? What if they had been here when he came in," he demanded, referring to her previous visitor. She stopped, falling silent; he saw her resolve weakening, and softened his voice. "Your dad's dead Jenny. What happened, happened twelve years ago. Most everyone aside from you, has forgotten about it. Now you're just dragging out old skeletons. You keep this up, and people will never forget that story. You're driving away everyone who cares about you now, for the past."
"He was my father," she whispered, her voice catching slightly in her throat.
"Jenny," Gibbs growled in warning, trying to get through to her, "let it go."
"I ca-"
He cut her off, crashing his lips down over hers. She was caught by surprise at first, but soon relaxed into him, moaning into the kiss as her glass slipped from her slacking grip.
They stumbled the few feet to her chair, and Gibbs fell into it, pulling her down onto his lap. He hiked her skirt up over her hips, trailing his fingers along the inside of her thighs, and she whimpered. "God Jethro! That's not fair, and you know it," she hissed, trying to hold back any more sounds. What with her pregnancy, and the fact that she had not been with anyone in over two months, her sensitivity was heightened to near impossible levels; she had the feeling Gibbs knew that, and was using it to his advantage. She forced her hips not to buck as he toyed with the hem of her underwear, before slipping a hand inside the lacy material. She moaned aloud, unable to keep her control any more, and he laughed. She gasped as he ripped the material from her hips, and thrust up into her, filling her completely.
"Jethro, you bastard," she gasped as her muscles tightened around him, and she dug her nails into his shoulders, sure there would be marks left behind.
He chuckled pompously, and gave her a short time to come down from her high before starting again.
She took a sharp intake of breath, and cried out as her high caught her by surprise, and she fisted her hands in his hair, hooking her legs tighter around the back of the chair, burying her face in his neck, as she fell over the edge in a series of gasps and moans, him right behind her.
She fell against him panting, her face and exposed skin flushed pink. "Oh my God," she breathed, and Gibbs, not understanding the meaning of her words laughed.
"Oh my God," she murmured again, sliding off his lap with an involuntary wince. He eyed her in confusion, and she shook her head, trying to make herself look at least somewhat decent. "This didn't happen Jethro," she whispered, the full weight of what they had just done, finally hitting her.
"What?" he demanded, anger starting bubble to the surface.
"You have a girlfriend Jethro. You just cheated on her. With me! I helped you cheat on her," she whispered, nearing hysteria.
"Jen," he tried, only to have her cut him off.
"No Jethro! This is not me. I am not a home wrecker! I do not sleep with taken men. No. You go home to Hollis. Do not tell her. We forget this ever happened," she stressed, and said, "But Jethro. Bring my kids back."
He stood, sliding into his clothes, and shook his head. "We're not going to forget Jenny."
"Yes Jethro. We are," she replied adamantly, her expression saying that she did not want to either, but had every intention of trying.
She heard the door slam for the second time that night, and grabbed the fallen tumbler from the floor. She sighed, eyeing the bourbon on her desk, considering it for a split second. But she lurched forward in surprise as she felt her growing child kick for the first time, as if to further remind her of their presence. She pushed the bottle of bourbon off into the wastebasket beside her desk, and rested a hand to her belly. "Mommy's sorry," she whispered, wondering if the baby could hear her. She smiled as another kick served as her confirmation.
A/n: Thanks for all the reviews guys! :) Hope you liked the chappie! Review please! :D
