Disclaimer NCIS is not mine

Authors note I want to apologise for the delay – it's here now! And just point out that I have never been to Russia or Moscow, and the extent of my knowledge comes from Google Maps and tv shows.

Enjoy!

Smoke on Ice

'I've got a voice, It's all I need, A beating heart inside of me,
I'm an army of one, I'm a soldier.
These eyes hold no disguise, We're fighting for our lives,
We're all trying to get back home tonight.
Never give up.'
-Bon Jovi, Army of One

Smoke blew out through her lacquered lips as she let her lungs exhale the toxic cigarette smoke. Something that she despised, yet had accepted when offered with the off chance that it might get her acceptance into the boy's club. They'd lit it for her, and as she placed it between her lips and inhaled. Jenny had been well aware that the eyes of every man around the table were on her. That they sat there, smirks ready to crack with the hope she'd start coughing uncontrollably. But this was not the first cigarette Jenny had ever smoked – she had been young, wild and free once upon a time. So she just let a smirk form over her own lips when a look of shock hit the rest of them.

It was just over two weeks since her first meeting with Yakov Koslovsky in that bar. Since then she'd seen him numerous times, and last week he had finally asked her what it was that had brought her to Russia. Jenny had smirked and given him just a couple of words and let him assume the rest. That was the beauty of the arms world – no one said anything explicitly. Illocution was in every sentence spoken, those who had been around long enough all shared the same perlocution, and those who hadn't become completely and utterly baffled. So Jenny's small tid bits of information were all she needed to say.

She rested her head on her hand, lips slightly risen at the corners, the light passing a small shadow over her eyes causing a darkness in her image. Her eyes sparkled, just as she knew they would do. Her outfit was formal, and the blouse she wore left just enough to the imagination whilst being perfectly enticing. In front of her was her standard watered down Vodka, and opposite her was Yakov. "Why are you back in Russia Julietta?" He asked, his voice monotonous, dark and husky from years of smoking the foul cigars and cigarettes he so loved.

She raised her eyes before looking down. Jenny knew how to play this, it was the same way she always played things when someone asked her what her job was and she didn't want them to know. The red head licked her lips, and sat up, undoing the bobble in her hair so that the red locks fell lose. Placing her head back on her hand she pushed the red locks over her shoulder so that they cascaded down her back. Reaching forward she placed the clear glass to her lips, pausing to speak before she drank from it. "Leo betrayed us all. So I left him." The liquid slid down her throat, and even after a week of drinking it, and it being watered down, it still burnt the back of her throat. Still it caused her tongue to feel like a flame was lapping at it. "I decided I could do business better than him." She said, looking down at the glass. Her voice was house; from what she hoped he would think was emotion but what in actual fact was caused by the burn of the Vodka.

She saw out of the corner of her eye him smirk, and order another shot of vodka for himself. There was a look in his eyes that made he think he was planning something. "Why Moscow?"

And Jenny just smirked, thinking of what Stephanie had said to her the day she visited the house. They'd be arriving soon, Jethro would be in the same country as her, and she wondered just how long it would take him to turn up on her doorstep questioning her game plan. "Well they do say it is beautiful in the spring."

Now she was sat around a table – outside in the freezing cold – with Yakov and some of the other game players. They all spoke a mixture of Russian and English, so she only understood a small amount of the conversation. But that was all she needed, because she knew that all of their attention was on her. She'd chosen a knitted sweater dress in a dark beige colour which hit mid thigh. She'd put on a pair of black tights, which meant that her legs were currently freezing. Her feet were clad in black suede boots and she had put on the Royal blue jacket that she bought a couple of days ago at some boutique she passed. It had cost an arm and a leg but the colour worked perfectly and caught every ones eye. "And you Ms De Sauveterre, you think the erm . . . cheaper arms are the way to go? Small over large?" Jenny turned to look at the man beside her. She'd not caught his name, but he looked to be older than the rest, and the only one of the men not dressed completely in black. Jenny blew a line of smoke from between her lips, and took a moment to contemplate her answer to his question.

"It depends on your supplier." She said, smirking to herself as she tried to boost her reputation. "But with me, size is not everything. I know many people who've gone large and haven't a clue how to use it. That's why our business is in such catastrophe."

She wasn't sure who understood what she said or what she was implying, but from the smirk that was forming over Yakov's face, she knew his English was definitely good enough to understand her. "I do not understand?" The man beside her said once again. But Jenny was still watching Yakov; she rolled her eyes for his sake, and turned back to the man beside her with a smirk.

"If you can't play with the big boys, then don't try." She smirked once more than proceeded to drop the remainder of her cigarette onto the floor and stub it out with the heal of her boot. Looking over at the man in the corner who had started the conversation she decided to blow her own trumpet just a little more. After all she wasn't in the business of sitting around in café's for another year. "Getting cheaper arms is all well and good; who you sell them to is the issue. I never trust large cheap arms. I only deal in Military goods, and I only ever will - too much risk with the others. Just because I provide weapons to kill, does not mean I want to be the cause of harm." She spoke with her accented English, looking as the man opposite considered what as being translated for him. She waited patiently for his response to come through one of the other men next to him who acted as a translator for the conversation.

"Women generally don't want to think about blood." She had to stop herself from laughing, and instead just raised her eyebrows. From the look of the man he had not done much causing of bloodshed in a while. His hands were smooth, obviously moisturised daily to a degree which bordered on obsessive. His face was clean, and even though he was older than she, his appearance seamed immature and almost childish.

"It is not the blood which bothers me. It is the paperwork of a law suit – such a pain in my ass." And with that she stood up and left the men who understood what she had said to laugh. And as she went she pulled her coat closer around herself, and deciding it was way too cold to even consider walking she hailed a taxi home. She knew that she had definitely made her mark already.

"Are you sure we fly out today? We've no tickets or anything!" Stephanie said as she clumsily walked down the stairs, dragging behind her one of her two suitcases. With each step she went down, it made another clunking noise as the plastic wheels which held the weight of the case hit another step. From behind her Jethro watched as he carried her second suitcase along with his own duffel bag. He'd wanted to make some sarcastic remark but after how he'd acted lately he had decided – thankfully – that it probably wasn't a good idea.

"Yeah Steph, Marrow said that there would be an agent waiting at the airport to give us them." She finally reached the bottom and heaved a sigh of relief. Jethro couldn't help but smirk at her slightly flustered pale face. He may not be head over heels in love with her – that was something that was making its self blatantly obvious. However he could not deny that she was a very attractive woman. And with the slight pink tinge that was making its way from her neck across her face contrasting with her light face, he found himself thankful that she was going to be there beside him. She might just manage to distract him enough to stop him doing something stupid or making himself ill.

"Are you sure we fly today though? I mean every time I talk to you the date has changed!" Gibbs smiled at her and placed both of the bags he was carrying down on the floor before walking over to her. The silver haired marine could tell that she was nervous; all she had done all week was ask questions about what she'd have to do. And he'd been reminded that she wasn't Jenny, she wasn't used to having to do things like this, having out of the blue plans thrown on her, in fact up until she married him she probably wasn't even sure that anyone actually had to do this.

Wrapping his arms around her small waist and pulling her closer to him, he looked down into her eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, strands softly escaping and framing her face. "Yeah Steph, we go today." And she just nodded before resting her head on his chest. Gibbs was reasonably sure she was asking because if they weren't, then she'd be relieved.

Since the day they had spoken in their room, he had tried to be less of a pain in her ass. After all it wasn't her fault. But he was still scared for Jenny; he had only heard that she had made contact with the Russians, and nothing else. For over three weeks work that wasn't a lot of feedback. But he knew too, that when they had been undercover the amount of information they had relayed back to NCIS had been minimal. Now that he was on the outside though, it all seemed so much harder.

Part of him wanted to go and find her and soon as he landed in Moscow – a large part of him. He'd managed to extract the address of the apartment that she was staying at out of Decker. Gibbs wanted to find her and just take her away with him. But he knew that if he did that, not only would he risk her cover and her life, she'd probably kill him. Her going off on her own, doing an op with barely any back up, he was pretty sure it was her trying to show him she wasn't the little probie he had taken to Europe any more.

And it was working.

Stephanie pulled away slightly from her husband, and looked at his glazed over eyes. She still wasn't sure what her role would be when they got there. Other than that if anyone asked she was married to 'Leo'. When she'd been briefed by the director she'd overheard and argument between Marrow and a man that she was guessing to be his boss. All she'd caught was that by her going out to Russia, and being in on the op it was a big risk. That it could all go south so easily, and that it was highly unprofessional. "Jethro . . ." He looked down at her, watching as the cogs in her brain spun furiously and she tried to figure out the best way to phrase what she wanted to say. "Are you going to be able to see her?"

Gibbs pulled away and went to sit down on the bottom stair. He ran a rough hand down his face; rubbing his tired eyes and feeling his stubble lightly graze against his hand. She watched him, hand moving up and down her own arm with nerves as she waited for his reply. Although she didn't know the woman in question especially well, she obviously meant something to her husband – that was undeniable. And if she was hurt, then it would hurt Gibbs which would in turn hurt her. Jenny was the only person who managed to physically scare him, that was something that it had not taken long for Stephanie to figure out. "I don't know." He said, looking up, but at the door as oppose to at his wife. Thinking of the world that lay outside the house, of Moscow and Jenny; fending on her own. "If Tom or Will say so, then yeah. If she contacts me first; then yeah. But otherwise; no."

Stephanie didn't say a word; instead she just nodded and walked over, before sitting down beside him. Both of them scared about the mission they were about to participate in, but both for different reason.

"So where are we staying? In the city?" Stephanie asked, they'd been on the plan for over two hours and her husband had finally awoken from his sleep at the smell of the food being handed out. He looked away from his cardboard box of food and over at his wife. She was trying to view this in the best light, he knew that. He also knew that her sister was currently cursing his name.

"Nah, some village in the countryside. About half an hour from the city, small town, quiet, cottage thing I think." He tried to sound interested, but in truth he knew that the first thing he would do would be to attempt to set up the small amount of surveillance equipment he knew how to use – in the hope that he would catch a glimpse of his red headed partner in the city.

"Oh, well we should probably try and find a supermarket in the city so we can get some food. That way we could unpack tomorrow. It's probably gonna be a stupid time that we arrive anyway."

"Fine, 'long as we get bourbon." Jethro said and he began to eat his food with the plastic fork. They claimed it was beef hotpot, but he was slightly dubious. It looked more like a couple of stones in mud with some green mush at the side which was meant to be vegetables. It turned out that it didn't taste much better than it looked either. So he dropped his fork in the plastic container and took a drink of his coffee - attempting to rid his mouth of the disgusting taste. All of this made his wife laugh at his expense. Stephanie took a sip of her white wine and began to add one of the small squares of pre-cut cheese to a cracker and eat it.

Gibbs looked over at her meal, glaring at the crackers and her hot meal which looked like a baked potato – or at last more like a baked potato than his had looked like hotpot. She smiled kindly at him and he just huffed, placing the lid back on the container which held his make-shift meal. "How come you get that, and I get . . ." He didn't even know what to call the meal he had been handed.

"I told the Director to tell the airline I was vegetarian." She stated, smiling at him before sitting back and ripping open the package for her jacket potato. Laughing at her husband's scowl she passed him the potato whilst she carried on eating the crackers. He thanked her, and they fell into a comfortable silence. Once the meals were put away, she pushed the armrest between them up and rested her head on her husband's shoulder, snuggling up to him.

Jethro kissed his wife's head and then slowly fell asleep.

When they stepped out of the very same airport that Jenny had just weeks before, they were greeted by the sight of dusk falling over the city of Moscow. The bare trees stood like silhouettes in front of the orange tinted grey sky behind of them. The shops were all beginning to close up, whilst cafes relished in the final flow of people stopping off for coffee and food before they braved the cold weather and travelled home to the warm housed that were waiting for them somewhere near or far.

Gibbs held his own duffel bag along with pulling one of Stephanie's cases whilst she pulled the other behind her. Both stopped to survey the scene. For Gibbs it was surreal to know that he could only be mere streets away from his partner whom was lost in her own world of undercover. Yet he was that close and could not see her without someone else's say so. For Stephanie it was as though the reality of what was happening had finally hit. She stood her large suitcase up and did up her thick woollen coat, glad that she had chosen to pack and buy the warmest clothes she possibly could.

The red head looked over at her husband, as saw him switch to agent mode right before her very eyes. All of a sudden his posture straightened, and he tensed up, looking out on autopilot for any threats that he could see. Then, he looked at her and signalled for her to follow her husband – which she did without question. In the next few months or however long this thing lasted for Stephanie knew that if Jethro told her to do something then she would have to do it. It didn't matter what it was or how much she didn't want to do so.

Gibbs hailed a taxi for them, put her luggage in the boot and told the driver their address in perfect Russian. And so the long drive began to their home from home. And as they went, both watched out of their own windows as the cold city passed them by.

She walked into the apartment, her healed black boots clip clopping on the hard flooring as she did so. The sun was setting over the city, and she could feel the butterflies returning to her stomach. The red head closed the door, locking all the bolts on the back of it and placing her back down on the wooden working top. Her eyes were instantly taken by the view over the river that took over the whole of the wall opposite her. Jenny paused watching as the sky visibly changed in colour before her eyes. As the planes took off, and landed, as the few birds that could deal with the cold weather flew in the sky.

Shrugging off the blue jacket that had done its job of keeping her warm to a suitable degree, she placed it down with her bag and set about making herself a cup of coffee. Once the warmth of the dark liquid had travelled through the white porcelain, she picked it up and walked over to the seating area that took in the view.

Her cold hands wrapped tighter around the white mug, light pins and needles travelling through her fingers and palms at the sudden change in heat. Lifting the mug up to her face, she blew out through her lacquered lips, making waves of movement in the coffee. Her eyes watched at the small stream of steam rose up into the air. Curling and moving so elegantly before dissipating into the air it's self.

Jenny looked out, once more, of the window, thinking about Jethro and only Jethro. She knew he had arrived today, there had been a note on her napkin last time she visited a café. And today was that day. He was in the same city as her, but with his wife. Part of her wanted to call him – there would be no shame in it. There would be no shame on her if she chose to abandon this operation. But she wouldn't that was something she was certain of.

Placing her cup down on the coaster she walked over to her answering machine and listened to the automated voice tell her there were no messages. Sighing softly, she turned and put in one of the few CD's that Decker had provided her with. None of which fitted her taste. But anything was better than the lonely silence that filled the room around her.

And with her coffee back in her hands as she sat with her book on her knee ten minutes later, she still felt alone. But at least she was attempting to make the most of a bad situation. Until dawn that was, when she would once more have to use her assets to get her recognised.

But for now she would try to relax, safe in the knowledge that not far away her partner was settling down for the long haul of watching over her.

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