Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Trent Kort watched from the window in the front door as Jennifer approached the safe house, thankful that his meeting with his associate had ended a few minutes ago. She rounded the corner up the street with a shadow, a rather familiar shadow called Ziva David, of whom Jennifer was completely unaware. He checked his side arm, the spare, regular gun that he had planned to give to Jenny, instead of his custom made gun which she had taken. It was loaded, safety off and ready to go. If she unwittingly brought her tail any closer to the house he would take out the Israeli, before she could raise any sort of alarm. He pulled back the net curtain a little to observe their approach, hoping Ziva would try to enter the house to confront Jennifer. They drew closer to the house, Jennifer's destination still unclear to the Mossad Officer but he pulled back slightly to stay hidden behind the door, just in case. Suddenly the Israeli began to pick up her pace; trying to catch up to Jennifer slowly, so she wasn't alerted to her presence until she reached her. Trent reached out, his fingers fumbling, trying to turn his key and unlock the door. He succeeded and then he gripped the door handle, readying himself to move out of the house and kill the Israeli if she got closer. She sped up again, reaching out a hand to catch Jennifer's shoulder and just then fate intervened. The Secretary of the Navy stepped between the two women, intercepting Ziva before she could reach Jennifer, who walked on, unaware of the close shave she had just had. Trent let out a sigh of relief and relocked the door, removing his key and stepping back from it, allowing Jennifer to unlock it a few moments later and enter the house.
"Where have you been?" he asked her the second she closed the door behind her. She jumped and whirled around to face him, the surprise clear on her face before it turned to annoyance.
"I went for a walk. Why were you waiting behind the door? Trying to give me a heart attack?" She turned her key in the lock and pocketed it, turning to walk up the stairs. Trent watched her take a few steps before he answered, making sure she couldn't see his face when he spoke and the absolute truth in it.
"I would think of a much more elaborate death for you than fright, trust me." He said emphatically. She turned and threw a smile over her shoulder, obviously thinking he was being sarcastic, and then continued up the stairs to her room. He watched her go and then put the safety back on his gun. She wasn't compromised so he didn't need to neutralise her, he did however need to know where she had picked up her tail. He let her have a few moments to herself and then followed her upstairs, knocking on the door to her room as he approached it.
"Come in!" she called through the door and he opened it and then stepped inside. She looked up from the pictures of her targets that Trent had given her to memorise, smiled brightly at him, and placed them down next to her.
"Where did you go today?" he enquired softly, knowing she was more likely to respond to a gentle prodding rather than the harsh interrogation that he wanted to give her. She took a deep breath and replied slowly, as if she was afraid of saying something that would tip him off to a misdemeanour.
"I decided to… watch the patterns of my targets, see if I could find a point at which I could shoot them without alerting anyone else." She was lying, he could tell but it didn't really matter. He drew himself up to his full height and plucked a picture off of the pile next to her. He looked at it for a moment before meeting her eyes and turning it around, to show her the picture of the 'Hamas operative' Ziva David. Jennifer's eyes widened slightly, giving away her thoughts clearer than if she had spoken.
"This woman followed you back to the safe house today. Care to tell me how you managed to turn discreet surveillance into a game of cat and mouse?" she didn't answer him, her eyes wandering from his face to the window, surprise and annoyance flickering over her features before settling on resignation. He chuckled inwardly and reached out a hand, waiting for her to give him her gun. There was only one explanation for why she had been followed but not confronted, and that was if she had tried to shoot the Israeli and missed. Jennifer sighed loudly and dug into her bag, withdrawing her gun and placing it in Trent's outstretched hand.
He pulled his arm back and withdrew the clip from the gun, looking at the bullets and counting how many were missing. Three? What had she done, closed her eyes and pointed in their vague direction? What had happened to the gun expert from the firing range? He closed his eyes and then shook his head, pushing the clip back in the gun and then sitting down on the bed next to her. Time to try the 'concerned brother who only wants the best for his sister' routine.
"Jennifer, there are three bullets missing from this gun. Where are they?" he asked gently, keeping his eyes on the gun in his hand, avoiding putting pressure on her which would make her create a wild story that he already knew to be a lie.
"Opposite a coffee shop or in the NCIS forensic lab." she admitted quietly, rubbing her hands over her face tiredly. He looked at her incredulously.
"You missed three times?" she flushed with embarrassment and indignation at his rude exclamation and anger began to push her closer to the end of her patience with her brother.
"Yes. They are fast!" she said defensively, as he rubbed his brow in irritation. What do I do now? They would almost certainly know she was alive now, Ziva's careful response to getting closer to her showed that. He straightened up and decided that, for the good of the mission he would have to put her in the firing line. Finally, I'll be getting rid of you, he thought, carefully suppressing the cold smile he almost gave her. His time babysitting her was at an end and he couldn't be happier to see it go. If he ever volunteered for a mission like this again, he would shoot himself. He put his hand in his shirt pocket and withdrew the photograph he had been withholding from her, the one of Gibbs.
"We can no longer wait then. This is your target, even if you kill no one else, you must kill him." she accepted the picture and looked at it, no recognition in her gaze and Trent smiled, pretending to be smiling to her, rather than at her. He would be glad to be rid of her and this would undoubtedly finish her off. Even if her memory came flooding back immediately after shooting him, she would have signed her death warrant, as his team would shoot her on sight. His associate would use his power in NCIS to have her killed rather than imprisoned if she got away unharmed, so she could never tell anyone what had happened to her.
"Ok, I'll do it tonight. Can I have my gun back?" she reached out for the gun and he handed it back to her, watching her put it back in her bag. He stood up and walked out of her room closing her door behind him.
--
Leon Vance took off his suit jacket and threw it angrily at the couch at the other end of his office before savagely kicking one of the chairs at the conference table. His toe connected painfully with the wood and he swore, trying to ignore the pain whilst limping around his desk. What was Gibbs' problem with him, and why the hell did he think he could get away with it? Leon sighed harshly, scrubbing his hands over his face and sitting heavily in his chair. He had earned this job, his blood, sweat and tears had gotten him where he was, rather than brown nosing his way up and sleeping with his boss like Jethro had been doing. Well he wasn't going to take the disrespect, if Gibbs kept on doing things without informing him, he would make good on his threat and fire him. Trying to get his team to spill secrets or supervise him was a mistake; they just rallied around him as if he was under attack.
The grief of bereavement would only get Jethro so far, and was the only reason he had put up with him for this long. He didn't even know if his grief was real, since no one seemed to be able to answer the question of how close Gibbs had been to Shepard. That he had carnal knowledge of her was glaringly obvious, what was not apparent however were the depths of his feelings. Leon had a wife whom he loved deeply, if he lost her he didn't know what he would do. He would probably try to carry on for his children, and if that was what Gibbs was going through then he could forgive his attitude and the slump he fell into. If not, he was just free riding on the grief of those around him, and that was inexcusable. Leon scoffed at himself, his thoughts getting ahead of him. For all he knew, Jethro had tricked his way into Jenny's bed and then held it over her to get his own way in the Agency. Her position as the first female Director was precarious enough without one of her agents spilling details of a torrid love affair. Conjecture, pure conjecture, he needed proof of what was wrong with Gibbs, so maybe he should talk to Dr. Mallard. He knew psychology so he could probably tell him what he needed to know.
His mind made up, Leon walked to his couch and picked up his jacket, putting it back on and withdrawing a toothpick from the pocket. He placed it in his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. What could the Sec-Nav want with Gibbs? A knock at the door broke him from his musings and he called out for his visitor to enter.
"Come in." the Sec-Nav opened the door and stepped through, shutting it softly behind him. He glanced up and smiled, gesturing to the empty room.
"Leon, I hope I'm not disturbing you." The sarcasm and subtle humour was lost on Leon, his foul mood clouding his senses. He recovered from his shock and then patted the back of a chair.
"Not at all, sir. Please come in." the Sec-Nav did so, sitting in the chair opposite the Directors and making himself comfortable. An unsure look passed over his face and Leon knew that the coming conversation would not be good for him.
"I have just had a strange conversation with Agent Gibbs and his team. His findings are very worrying and I hoped you could shed some light on them."
"I'd like to sir, however Agent Gibbs sees fit to do what he likes when he likes, without informing me of anything."
"He says that you were involved in Jennifer Shepard's murder." Leon's jaw fell slack and he stared at the Sec-Nav for a few moments, his disbelief momentarily rendering him dumb, until he worked up enough incredulity to vent his anger.
"What?! That's ludicrous! Surely you don't believe that!" the Sec-Nav merely acknowledged his outburst with an inclined head and then held up a hand to forestall any more explosions.
"The evidence is damning, Leon." Vance shook his head and scoffed. Gibbs had put him at the centre of a conspiracy to kill Jenny and take her place, obviously the less than honourable intentions he had been thinking about earlier were true. Gibbs hadn't felt anything for Shepard; he was just using her, and now her memory to get what he wanted from NCIS. Even the Secretary of the Navy was falling for it.
"But sir-"
"I'm sorry, Leon. You will be taken into custody, but you will not be charged immediately." He stood and straightened his jacket. "I wish to review the evidence against you. When you are cleared, you will be free to pursue any retaliatory accusation against him." he gave Leon an encouraging smile and then opened the door, allowing two men to come in to escort him away to a holding cell, god only knows where. "Leon Vance you are hereby suspended…" Leon didn't hear the rest of what the Sec-Nav was saying, not that he even needed to hear it. He had said the same thing to Jenny Shepard last year, when she had been relieved over the La Grenouille murder. He just straightened his clothes and kept his head held high as he allowed himself to be taken away.
