There's a look in Cynthia's eye that Jenny doesn't recognize when she comes in the following day. It's something between sympathy and apprehensive, though she can't pinpoint for sure which. Her assistant is nothing if not observant, but she prays that she doesn't know the extent of her and Gibbs tumultuous relationship. Pity is one thing that does not want, though she doubts Cynthia would offer her any. The younger woman knew her better than that.
He and his team had either not arrived or had already left on a case. Regardless, she was spared having to endure what would have been a less than pleasant encounter.
The smell of coffee this morning made her stomach somersault in a way she didn 't recognize. It made her think of him and the always looming scent nd she couldn't bare to be reminded of him and more than she already was.
She opted for tea instead.
Most of her day had been spent waiting, a modicum of trepidation to every move she made. She had expected him to come busting into her office at any moment, disguising his visit as case related in attempts to pick another fight. He'll let her go with a bang, she supposes.
What she hadn't been expecting was the light knock at her door.
"Come in."
To her surprise, it was McGee on the other side of the door.
"Good afternn, Director." He greets with a nod, ever the polite one of the bunch.
"Agent McGee," she offers him a curt smile, "What can I do for you?"
He clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably where he stood, "Gibbs sent me up here, he wants to see if you can get into contact with the head of the overseas division. Our victim was part of their counter terrorism operations and Gibbs has a suspicion that whoever killed him was on the opposing side of those investigations."
"And so the information is classified." She concludes for him. It was true, there were cases and investigations that were kept lock and key, even from the agencies own people.
"That's correct."
"I can't subpoena a classified investigation without probable cause," She tells him, "Do you have sufficient evidence the points to that?"
He nods, "We have ballistics to back it up. Some circumstantial documents detailing the work he was doing in his sector, which is why we want to see how deep his investigation goes and into whom."
The ideology behind the proposed scenario is solid as she supposes they can get without knowing the full extent of his findings overseas, and the implication of the claim from McGee is clear.
"You think it's an inside job?"
She watches as his eyes drop to his shoes for a fraction of a second, "Gibbs seems to think so."
She snorts, "Seems a bit unlike him to send one of you to pitch his idea."
The statement throws McGee off, and she can see it written all over his face. For a federal agent, she thinks, he could use some work on his poker face.
She cuts him off before he can fumble out a half baked statement.
"Tell Agent Gibbs I will place a few phone calls and see what I can do, but I can't make any promises. Forward the information to Cynthia and I'll see that it's done."
He gives her a polite smile, "I'll make sure she gets it."
He turns to leave, but a thought enters her mind and she can't stop it from slipping out before she can think better of it.
"Which division was he station at, McGee?"
"Paris, ma'am."
She almost laughs at the absurdity that has seemed to over take her life within the last 48 hours.
The remainder of her day had been torn between MTAC meetings and negotiations with their counter terrorism unit overseas for release of information for Gibbs' case. Despite being Director, there were still miles she had to run at times to get anything accomplished.
She wonders for a moment if she would have to face the same obstacles at the FBI.
The thought is pushed out of her mind when she catches sight of the time; the hands of the ornate clock on the wall pointing just past 7 o'clock. Time seemed to slip away from her when she buried herself in case work. It ha been that way since she was an agent.
Then again, there were other things that helped her pass the time during her probie days on his team.
She tried her best not to let those thoughts overtake her mind either. Jenny Shepard was built to lead an agency, and she would not let something as simplistic as the sheer memory of a relationship bring her to her knees.
She was made much stronger than that, despite what her head was telling her these days.
The snow had just began to fall, barely covering the roads when she had looked out the window, and she made sure to wrap her coat as tightly around her as it would go. DC winters were nothing if not cruel and unforgiving.
The bullpen was nearly empty when she stepped out of her office, with only a few remaining agents scattered throughout, though they too were packing their belongings for the night. It was standard these days that she was one of the last to straggle out of the building, if not the final one to leave.
The elevator doors are just beginning to slide close when she reaches it, and she quickly slides a hand between the closing doors before it had completely sealed itself shut.
As luck would have it, he was of course the occupant.
There's a cold chill that shoots through her bloodstream; a iciness tingling her nerve endings and for a moment she thinks that surely everything within her had suddenly became colder than the temperature outside.
Upon seeing her in the doorway, he shifts his gaze to the floor, looking anywhere but her. She supposes she should wait and take the next elevator, but she didn't want what might be her last days in the agency spent with more animosity between them then there already was.
Still, she doesn't speak a word to him in what is surely to be the longest elevator ride of her life.
Head held high, she watched as the doors closed agonizingly slow, and she could practically feel the anger radiating off of him once again.
There's a soft ping with each floor they pass, and she thanks whatever god is up there that something was breaking up the awkward silence between them. Still, there's a voice nagging in the back of her head to say something, anything, that might make the tension between them fizzle out.
She finally takes a leap of faith just as they pass another floor to shoot a glance his way.
"Jethro I-"
She's abruptly cut off when she's pushed roughly against the wall of the elevator, his hands gripped tightly on her hips bones and mouth pressing against her.
Its hostile and desperate and it perhaps communicated more than a conversation would have at the time.
When they reach the final floor, he pulls himself away from her. There's a darkness to the blue of his eyes and she truly doesn't know what to make of it.
A hands slams against the wall beside her, fingers curled into a tight fist as he lets out a harsh breath.
She doesn't flinch. If there's one thing she knows for sure, it's that he would never hurt her no matter how angry he was.
"Damn it, Jenny."
He storms out when the doors slide back open, leaving her standing dumbfounded by the series of events that just unfolded around her.
Damn it was right.
A/n: Apologies for the slow updates, life has been hectic the last few weeks. However, I should be back to posting on a more regular basis from here on out.