She awoke to the pleasant but unusual sensation of a male body against hers. Remembering the night's wantonness, her lips curled into a smugly satisfied smile as she chose to ignore the emotional entanglements. Slipping out of his embrace, she enjoyed the electric sensations the touch of his skin on hers created, and as she freed herself from his sleepy grasp she slid off the bed and made her way to the bathroom.
She retrieved her overnight bag and fished out her running clothes, dressed and moved outside into the brisk dawn air to stretch. As she limbered up, she enjoyed the pleasant soreness -- stretching tight muscles, slipping into the comforting ritual. She took off down the street feeling the breeze on her skin and savoring the quiet solitude. She blanked her mind and let the steady pounding of her feet on the pavement order the events of the previous day, sorting the pieces of the puzzle into a picture that made sense.
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The trilling of the phone woke Gibbs; he rolled over, confused at the empty bed and the demanding instrument. Reaching out for the receiver, he eyed the clock as he grunted, His ear was immediately assaulted by a loud and angry voice, words he couldn't process.
Whoa, whoa. Give me a second. Now what's this?Dammit, Gibbs! Next time you intend to take over a crime scene where we have no jurisdiction, would you please have the courtesy to inform me first! Morrow's fury was unmistakable. I have angry cops crawling up my ass and I have no idea what I'm supposed to tell them!Look, Sir, I'm sorry. I should have called you last night. I'm certain DiNozzo took the evidence to the lab; it should be there for you to see. There are photos of him and Hecht taken yesterday afternoon. The deceased is Captain Ritchey. Morrow cursed at that and Gibbs yawned before continuing. Calling in the locals just seemed like a bad idea. This feels like something personal against her, Sir. It seemed wiser to keep it in house.Maybe, but I have a lot of unhappy cops. Arlington got a tip that their captain was murdered and Hecht was responsible...What! From who? Gibbs was fully awake now.
Anonymous, of course, but that's hardly the point. Arlington's up my ass, Fairfax's breathing down my neck. I can't get a hold of Hecht. And we have the body and the evidence from a crime scene we have no business investigating. I don't want this ulcer, Gibbs. Do you know where Leah is? Morrow wound down his tirade with a sigh.
Yes, Sir. She was going to sleep at the office last night, but I thought...
The Director cut him off. Please tell me you didn't take her home with you.What's the problem? We're old friends. Gibbs didn't like the implications, even if they happened to be true. I wasn't going to let her sleep on the floor of the office.Well, find your old friend someplace else to stay. It looks bad enough as it is, we don't need someone accusing you of sleeping with the prime suspect on top of it.Since when is she a suspect? She a victim, here, Sir! She's the one who had her house violated, had threatening messages left for her, and had three guns stolen. He didn't like the way this was going.
She's also the one with a dead body found in her house, a house I might add, with a very sophisticated alarm system, as I understand it. And this is the first I've heard about the stolen weapons. Morrow's voice was tight. This was an ugly situation and he didn't want one of his best agents being pulled under by it.
I'll be in shortly, with Leah, and we'll explain everything. Or at least as much of everything that we know. All right? Gibbs scrubbed at his face, wishing the events of the past twenty-four hours would all go away. Well, not all of the events.
Fine. In my office, both of you, the minute you get in. And make it soon. The connection was broken, leaving an irritated silence humming in Gibbs' ear. He hung up the phone and went in search of the wayward redhead, wondering where she disappeared to this time and why.
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Sweat flowed freely as the scenery blurred past her. Conscious thought was only on the rise and fall of her feet, the steady rhythm of her breathing. The frown on her face betrayed the difficulty her subconscious was having. Last night's events added up to personal vendetta, but how that tied to two three-year old cold cases and two fresh murders, all of which appeared to be more sexually motivated than anything else, was unclear. Not to mention who had access to the information necessary to duplicate what she found in her house last night. The beat of her feet on the pavement gained a harmonic thrum in her head as she tried to force the events of the past twenty-four hours into a category that didn't start with the word Paranoid.
When the first gunshot rang out, she was so deeply into her thoughts the sound barely registered. The second made her jerk in surprise, breaking her stride, nearly causing her to stumble. The third puffed the dirt next to the sidewalk where she ran. She glared at the spot, then continued her stride, heading back toward Jeth's house, angered at the cheap intimidation tactics used by her unseen adversary.
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Gibbs had made a fresh pot of coffee, showered and dressed. He felt reasonably safe in the assumption she wasn't far away, the presence of her open suitcase mute testimony to her planned return. He remembered the sight of her strong, well-shaped legs and it made him think she'd stuck to her routine of a morning run.
He was savoring his second cup of coffee when he heard what sounded like gunshots somewhere in the neighborhood. He almost dropped the cup on the counter as he drew his weapon and darted out the door. Once outside, he had difficulty determining the source of the shots. Knowing the area, he tried to guess which way Leah would have run and slowly moved that way, eyes alert for anything out of the ordinary. Scant minutes later he came across her, walking toward him. He paused, watching her, making sure she was unharmed. For one second his heart leapt as he saw her hand to her neck, then he realized she was taking her pulse after her run, her eyes on her watch. When she finished she placed her hands on her hips, and directed her eyes forward and caught sight of him.
Hey Jeth! What brings you out? Leah huffed as she came up to him.
Not much. You missing, the sound of gunshots. Know anything about those? He holstered his weapon as he looked her over, making sure there were no wounds on her.
Yeah, whatever asshole decided to screw with my house last night wanted to see if I'd flinch during my run. She yanked out the elastic holding up her hair up as they entered the house, disgust coloring her words.
Somebody shoots at you and that's all you have to say? Anger tinged his words at her cavalier attitude. Dammit, Leah! Do you plan on being this careless with your life all day?
She stopped dead at the entrance to the bathroom and stared at him. What is with you? If that shooter wanted me dead, I'd be dead. She continued into the room, raising her voice to be heard as she stripped off her sweaty clothes. Jeth, think. All that shit at my house last night wasn't random. It was specifically designed to screw with my head. Same with whoever shot at me. I saw where the third shot hit; it was meant to miss, so I assume they all were. She climbed into the shower, one step short of yelling to be heard over the running water. The problem is I can't figure out who's behind it.
Gibbs watched in disbelief as she moved from the door of his house to his shower, rationalizing her irresponsible behavior in the process. He stepped to the doorway of the bathroom and raised his own voice. Do you have any idea how much trouble we're in with Morrow?
She stuck a shampoo-covered head around the shower curtain, a puzzled expression on her soapy face. What the hell are you talking about?We should have called in Fairfax PD last night, you do realize that. He waited for some reaction to his sharp statement. There was, however, a long silence while she finished her shower, then reached for a towel and yanked it off the bar to join her behind the curtain.
she spit the syllable as she finally flung the curtain aside, emerging towel-wrapped and furious.
Fine, what? He felt like he'd missed half the conversation, and seeing her damp body playing peek-a-boo with his towel wasn't helping his concentration.
Oh, for Christ's sake, Jeth! It isn't like we haven't done this dance before. We get close, you make a decision and I pay the price. She turned to the mirror, not wanting to see his eyes directly, and began to comb through her hair. Last time it was only a kiss. This time I got fucked. Literally. Don't worry about it. I'm actually getting used to the treatment; my career has been screwed so many times in the past fifteen years, I'm starting to feel like a cheap whore! She slammed the comb down on the counter and stormed out of the bathroom.
He followed her and had to avert his eyes from the sight of her running the towel along her curvaceous form as he tried to make some sense of her outburst. Where did all that come from? Nobody said anything about your career.Would you quit following me! And nobody had to say anything about my career. I am a detective, I have a brain. Morrow's pissed because he's got cops crawling all over him like ants in a sugar bowl. Am I right? She glared up at him, oddly pleased to see the guilty flash in his face. And I'm gonna take this lovely piece of deductive logic one step further and say your ass is already cookin' because you brought me home. Can't have one of NCIS' best and brightest sleeping with a murderer, now can we? This time she didn't even wait for the confirmation in his eyes. You know, just once it would have been nice if you had defended me. She stalked back to the bathroom and hung up the towel, not caring about being naked in front of him. There wasn't anything more humiliating he could do to her, what did nudity matter?
Stunned that she could think he would abandon her, it took him half a beat to react. When he did, she was fishing through the suitcase she'd carried into the bedroom; he reached out, grabbed her arm and spun her to face him.
I did defend you, you self-righteous brat! The words were a harsh whisper as he hauled her against him. God knows why, but for some reason, I... The word caught in his throat; he'd made the mistake of saying it before, always about the wrong woman. He couldn't make that mistake again. Not with Leah. I believe you. And I trust you, he finished lamely. He fell into her expressive eyes, seeing her doubt and pain, realizing the depth of past betrayals. Suddenly conscious of the intimacy of their position, he released her and muttered something indecipherable about getting dressed. He turned on his heel and stalked to the kitchen. Coffee wasn't exactly a cure for his current discomfort, but it would have to do.