Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS

Authors note: I'm so sorry for the delay! Please enjoy!

What They Don't Know

'Can we skip the part where you look in my eyes and tell me you apologise?'
-Cheated, Boys Like Girls

The sky was dark, pitch black, there was not a star visible, and the moon was hidden behind a thick black grey cloud which had lodged its self purposefully. It was the coldest day she'd experienced; the cold air had sat over the city dominantly for the last week, not budging even though there was a wind pushing behind it. The weather was so cold that every morning she had walked into her living area to find layer of mist over the large window which looked out over the city. One which was caused by the warmth of her modern apartment hitting the cold of the city that lay outside. And today, the weather was no better.

A harsh wind had beaten down on it all day, causing whistles and battering to echo through the space she had been calling home. A sound which when she was about to have what would probably end up being the most crucial meeting of her life, haunted her. A sound which she had decided to drown out by listening to some of the CD's she was pretty sure that Decker had left there. And that was how she had gotten through the day.

Jenny was well aware of what she would have to do that evening. The plan had been given to her on a napkin when she was sat in a café the other week. Written in the familiar scrawl that belonged to Decker, the napkin had been burnt as soon as she'd engraved the details into her mind. That evening she would go to a disused dock yard on the river side at Rayon Pechatniki. The weapons would have been delivered earlier, and placed by the river wall. She knew what the number was on the cargo container, knew what she was to find inside – hell she'd spent enough time working with Gibbs and down in forensics to know if what she was looking at were the right things.

She also knew that there would be cameras watching her, but that the nearest back up support team would be a good 10 minutes drive away. When everything came down to it, Jenny would be on her own. If a situation was to arise then she would have to diffuse it. This is was it; this was the end of the op. And when Jenny arrived that night, it would be her last night in the city. Once everything was over, there would be a car waiting for her – one that would be dropped off outside of her apartment for her to drive to the docks. Then, she'd drive to Elktrostal to stay the rest of the night, and until she received the phone call which would tell her when she would be flying home, she would stay at the Etzm OAO Gostinitsa hotel. Once the call came in, she'd go to a private air field, and fly out of Russia, whilst Julietta would be on a total of 10 different flights to everywhere from Australia to Iceland.

That would be the end of her undercover operation-

-If it went to plan.

She stood at the window, looking out over the city that fell beneath her feet. Her hair was straightened perfectly, falling down with a flick at the end. The trousers were skinny legged, tucked into her black louboutin ankle boots, whilst her blouse was white silk. Around her neck was a silver tiffany necklace, and she wore the blue coat she'd bought on her stay. A large black shoulder bag that contained the few clothes she could take with her sat carelessly on the counter top in the kitchen. The rest of the apartment was just the same.

The plan was to make Julietta disappear off of the earth, then when a Jane Doe body turned up who resembled Jenny, they'd claim is as Jullietta, and bury her in a grave in France. It was a flawless plan, but it all rested on her shoulders, if she didn't manage to make this meeting work then it would all have been put together for nothing. Because she'd be outnumbered in a fire fight, one which even with Gibbs' training she would not be able to win.

If she didn't manage to make it work, then not only would it be the end of Julietta, but it would also be the end of Jennifer Shepard. And that was a thought that scared her to the bone.

The red head downed the small amount of bourbon that sat in the bottom of her glass. She'd picked up one of the miniature bottles that were designed for air travel. She'd tipped the whole thing into her glass so that she would have some Dutch courage. But as she walked back into the kitchen, and washed her glass, that shot of bourbon did not seem at all like enough. Instead it had just reminded her that the last time she was in this sort of situation she had had Jethro beside of her, and yet this time around . . .

"Will you put that damn phone down for a moment and actually pay attention to our conversation?" Stephanie asked, almost begging as they sat on the comfy luxurious sofas of the hotel. After a couple of months of living a lie and the cracks slowly making their way into their marriage, they'd booked into a hotel. It was only a couple of hours ago that Gibbs had been informed that today was the day of Jenny's meeting. However when he heard that, it was too late. He was too far away from Moscow and Decker wanted him as far away as possible. If someone was to see 'Leo' with the police, Jenny's cover would be blown instantaneously. Even if it had wounded Gibbs' pride not to be there, he understood, the last thing he would want to do was to be the one to risk Jenny's life-

-He'd nearly done that once too many times on this op already.

He looked up from the phone he'd had Stephanie teach him how to use. Decker had told him that he would call him if anything developed. Part of him wanted to receive that call, to know what was going down with his partner, but at the same time, didn't they say that no news was good news? He placed it down on his knee and looked over at her, sat on the sofa in an oversized thick knitted beige jumper and leggings. Her hair pulled back into a ponytail whilst she sat with a cup of hot chocolate in her hands. Gibbs reached over to the table and picked up his coffee, before sitting back and looking at her.

"The op-"He began, but she cut him off. After however many months of sitting in Moscow listening to how worried he was about Jenny, she was pretty much sick of her. She understood that it wasn't easy for him – it must be a thousand times harder for Jenny. But it didn't mean that she was any less fed up.

"I know it all goes down tonight, and I get it – as much as I can – but Jethro, please can we just have one evening about us?" And he looked down at his phone, before nodding and placing it back in his pocket. Then he looked at her, took her hand, and nodded once more.

"How's your sister?"

She picked up the keys to the black car that was sat outside, grabbed her bag, glanced one last look around the room, and then opened the door and left Julietta's apartment for the last time.

The journey to the docks only took her around half an hour, and whilst she could have just followed the river she went the long way, getting her mind into business mode. Ready to deal with a group of misogynistic men who would be more interested in how she looked than how she did business. Jenny didn't know who was going to be there, she doubted that 'Sir' would be stood in an abandoned dock yard at night, but then again he didn't seem to be very bothered when it came to his safety. He just seemed to think that it was something to torment his security with.

The place was empty, but she still parked the car out of the way so that the rest of the men could easily park their cars, but so she could get out as easily as possible. Once the deal was done she didn't want to have to be hanging around alone. And as she got out of the car, that feeling was once more reinstated.

The area was completely dead; the only sign of life were the cargo containers which were dotted around. All varying shades of colours, some newer ones were brighter, older ones were faded and scratched to pieces. And as she stood there, the wind blew at a mile a minute, cold and harsh against her, so much so that the red head found herself fastening her jacket to try and keep warm. Once she began to walk, the place wasn't silent, her heels were clip clopping, and the sound of her heartbeat echoed in her ears.

Her container was sat by the wall, a wall which was about .75 of a meter, and made completely of concrete – much like an ugly 1960's post war style. Jenny looked at the lock, and found it had been left unlocked, and she mentally thanked the forethought of NCIS, because it would probably have blown her cover in the way that she did not have a clue how to open the damn container.

So she pulled out the wrought iron Alan key metal rod type thing, and opened the thin doors before looking at the boxes of weapons in front of her. The thought of all of the damage and pain they could inflict made her feel cold, made her hairs stand up on end. She walked into the container, opened the tops of some of the wooden units and checked what was there was what was mean to be there. When she was happy with her stock, she exited and stood by the wall.

Her arms rested on the top of the concrete, and leant against the structure. Watching the plain black sky, trying to catch sight of a star peeking out from behind a cloud. But her attempts were feeble. The wind blew her hair all over the place, making the smooth and flat style become a lot less elegant. But she didn't really care how she looked. Her eyes were already watering because of the cold, and when she heard the sound of a car she all of a sudden felt even colder. All of a sudden she just wanted to run, run away from this place, from everything that was taking place, and everything that was about to down.

"Julietta."

And with that one word, said by a familiar voice, she knew it was too late to run. She was in this too deep to escape now. Turning around she found a group of men walking over. Among them was 'Sir' – something which would mean they could straight out arrest him when she was gone – and Yakov. Part of her had hoped he wouldn't be there, that he would not have to be arrested. He was probably the only thing that had actually gotten her through this hellish mission.

By the end of the evening he would be arrested though, and that was a fact that Jenny had to accept, she may well be representing the law, but she did not get to dictate it.

She smiled, and walked forward, giving Yakov a smile as she did so. Then they shared pleasantries. Jenny would not walk out of the docks will the Euros - that would have been a stupid move. Instead half had been transferred into the account already, and the other half would be transferred after they had received the weapons. Meaning that she was not in charge of actually handling cash.

"You have the weapons?" Sir asked her, and she nodded, smiling sweetly before running a hand through her hair and walking over to the container. The wind had blown the metal door closed, so the men opened it, and she waited outside whilst two men – whose names she did not know – checked over the goods. "You've impressed quite a lot of people Julietta. And now that Leo is not holding you back, you have the world at your feet." Sir said, reverting into French, something that took her a moment to adjust to.

"I am glad that my mistakes are not shadowing over me. Leo, he was my mistake, I should never have trusted him."

"They're all fine." A gruff voice said, as they all emerged from the container, and Yakov approached them both.

"Good." Yakov said, and Jenny handed him the Alan key, smiling.

"It was good doing business with you." Said Sir, once more in French, and whilst Yakov placed a padlock that he had kept hidden on the container, the rest of them men went away.

"What will you do now?" He asked her, and she just smiled, unable to quite believe that after so many months of just wanting to escape, she would actually be going back home.

"Lay low, calm down, and then do whatever takes my fancy." She said, smiling softly. "I'll follow my gut." And that was something that Gibbs would be pleased to hear, but something that had no emotional bearing on any other person.

"Good luck Julietta, I hope we shall do business again someday?" And with some miraculous façade she managed to look unaffected by that statement. And she nodded, smiling once more, still slightly unable to believe that everything was about to be over. A welcome feeling.

"So do I Yakov." She hugged him, but it was an awkward hug, they'd never really had that sort of relationship. It had always been the type which was professional, but could have turned into a one night stand at the flick of a switch. However, emotions and feelings had never come into it, and it was something that she was definitely glad of. Simply for the reason that it made everything a heck of a lot easier.

With that, Yakov turned around, walked to the car, and drove off.

Standing there, with the wind blowing her hair like wild fire catching in the wind, feeling like an ice cube, she smiled. But it wasn't a smile of happiness; it was a smile of relief. Because all she had to do now, was drive to the hotel and wait for the call.

Jenny ran a hand through her hair, looked over at the city, and felt no remorse for leaving like she had when they left Paris. Instead, she walked to her car.

However, she didn't know what was about to happen.

"Okay, so what happened next?" Stephanie asked, laughing at Jethro as he recounted a story about Jenny as a probie. Both had been drinking, Jethro was on bourbon whilst she was on wine. Now they were finally relaxing, and it felt a lot more like it had at the beginning of their marriage, before the whole Moscow fiasco had begun.

"The guy jumped into the sea, and pulled her in with him. By the time I got there, the guy was on the pier, and she was stood over him pointing her gun at him – dripping wet!" He smirked at the memory. "I got there; she glared at me, walked over, ripped the jacket off of my back and stormed away. The guy on the floor was sat there smiling at me; she'd been in a white top!"

"The-"

"She slapped him in interrogation – Tom turned a blind eye."

"Did you get your jacket back?"

"No, I asked for it once – she told me that she'd leave me it in her will."

XXX

In that moment, not Stephanie and Gibbs sat laughing in a posh hotel, nor Jenny on her way to the car, not William Decker or Stan Burley who were back in MTAC in the US coordinating the op, not Tom Marrow who was bragging about the op to other agencies – none of them knew what was about to take place. None of them knew what Jenny was about to experience, none of them knew how worried they were about to become-

-but very soon they would.

She opened the door, and slid into the driver's seat of the black car. And as she closed the door, felt the temperature physically rise, she sighed. Leaned back against the chair, closed her eyes and ran a hand down her face. Blindly she took her bag off of her knee and placed it on the seat beside of her. Sitting forward she ran a hand through her tangled mass of red hair, and flipped down the mirror. Leaning across she fumbled around in the bag until she found her lipstick, then using the mirror applied a coat in one smooth movement, before replacing the colour and placing her keys in the engine.

And that was the last thing she remembered doing.

Behind her a man in black leant forward, his eyes had not left her since he got into the car when she was still outside. Taking the gun off of his lap, he wrapped his tanned hand around the barrel, and then he leant forward. She barely even had time to realise she was not alone before everything went black.

The butt of the gun collided with her skull hard, causing her to lose consciousness almost immediately. There was no blood splatter, but vaguely visible amongst the red curled was the sight of a red liquid mixing with them.

When the red head finally regained consciousness, she was not even in Russia anymore. In fact, she didn't know where she was. All she did know, what that she was far away from home, far, far, far away from home.