Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Except the mistakes those are mine.

A/N: I am sorry that it has taken me this long to update this story. I had lost both my muse and the will to right for a while, but it seems like they have returned. This chapter feels like it's a filler chapter of sorts, but I'll let you be the judge. Thank you for all the lovely reviews, they have motivated me to keep on writing. To all the new follows and favorites, thank you as well.

Side note: I have temporarily placed Le Roion hold at least until I have managed to get back in the swing of things.

Enjoy*

The noise was deafening as the jet-black helicopter rocketed through the night sky, going unnoticed by everyone it passed over. The dull and yet methodical thump of the rotary blades was the only thing that was keeping her calm. They were losing time they couldn't afford. Jenny grit her teeth against the urge to snap at the two men in the cockpit to shut up and focus on getting them to where they had to be.

There was a dull ache in her muscles as she clutched the man in her arms for dear life – wanting to help him cling to the little breath he still had in him. He was cold against her body, his skin clammy and pale. Leaning down she licked her lips and placed them a hair's breadth away from his, the short wheezing breaths he took chilled her wet lips.

Smears of her bloodied hand prints were all over his face as she had tried to get him to stay conscious – even the painful force she exercised in stopping the blood from seeping out of his wounds had failed to keep him with her. Pressing a kiss to his lips, she cupped his cheek – wiping away the beads of sweat that rolled from his brow and over the side of his face.

She should have known better – nothing good ever came from the decisions she made. Sleeping with him was probably a mistake – did she regret it – not really. She doubted he saw anything beyond them just having sex, and given her personal experience with relationships and his past, it was best for the both of them.

Movement out the corner of her eye had her looking up, one of the pilots turned towards her – the same one who'd looked at her stoically – his brown eyes flicked from her to the lifeless man she still held in her arms. She gave him a dark glare, it was obvious that he could see that there was more between them. Meeting her eyes again he shouted over the noise of the blades.

"We'll be there in a minute!" He barked and quickly spun around.

Jenny nodded even though he couldn't see her anymore. She clenched her teeth hard – almost bordering on grinding them together – as she lifted Jethro. He was heavier than she remembered, for a moment fear gripped at the rational part of her mind. Pressing two bloodied fingers against his neck she felt around for his pulse – a rush of air left her as she felt the faint lethargic rhythm of his pulse. She wasn't even aware of the fact that she had been holding her breath.

Without warning the helicopter suddenly started to descend – she could feel her stomach flip as the landing skids made a loud thunk!, as they touched down on the helipad.

The next few minutes were a blur as she watched the large door slide open. The two pilots looked between her and the man in her arms, and judging by the look they shared neither of them had much hope for the NCIS agent. Just over the ones shoulder she saw another man, pushing a gurney towards them.

They all three reached for Jethro and pulled him across the metal floor. There was a quiet grunt from his lips and Jenny found herself clinging to the sound. She fumbled with the backpacks as she plucked them from where they had been slid across the floor of the helicopter.

The man who had wheeled the gurney towards them was no older than nineteen, his rosy-cheeked tanned face looked at them bewildered as they hoisted Jethro onto the gurney with visible effort. It was clear that he was at a loss with what to do with himself as he watched the two veteran pilots strap the man down and push him towards the way he had come.

Jenny pushed the two backpacks into the young man's arms as he tried to school his features. She heard him mutter something under his breath in French as she ran after the two pilots.

The pilots disappeared around the corner and out of sight. She heard raised voices snap at each other as she drew near. A familiar voice raised above their squabble silencing both men. Jenny willed her tired legs to run faster – she stumbled over her own feet and found herself crashing into a wall. Letting out a frustrated huff she staggered down the hall, listening to the squeaking wheels of the gurney as it barreled down the corridor again.

Jenny rounded the corner just as the gurney disappeared through a set of heavy wooden doors, her heart leaping to her throat as she heard one of the pilots shout that Jethro had started bleeding again. She stumbled to a stop, Nicky stared at her as she held one of the doors open to let the men through. Jenny swallowed heavily as she saw the look on Nicky's face.

"Please," Jenny croaked, her throat suddenly dry.

Nicky gave her friend a long hard look, "I'll do everything I can." The heavy door closed with a soft thud.

The redhead stared at the closed door, her bottom lip drawn between her teeth. It was taking a lot of self-control for her not to barge through the doors – she let out a frustrated sigh. Movement behind her had her reach for the Sig she had tucked in at the small of her back.

The young man stared at her with large eyes, the two backpacks still in his arms – and his cheeks flushed bright red as he tried to look anywhere other than the smears of blood on her clothes. He dropped his gaze when he met the woman's dark green eyes. Lifting his head with confidence he suddenly found somewhere, he met the woman's eyes with a perfectly mastered neutral look.

"Follow me." He spoke with a thick French accent.

Jenny thought about protesting and briefly considering pulling out her Sig and demanding that someone let her see Jethro. She felt her fingers twitch and she balled her hands in tight fists – giving the kid a stiff nod she followed behind him.

It was uncharacteristically quiet in the large mansion – there was no lighthearted conversation filling the halls, no hushed conversations about political scandals drifting around the rooms. Jenny pushed her fingers in her tangled hair, not even wincing as she loosened the various knots. The city's lights twinkled brightly far below her as she watched the world pass before her eyes. She swallowed against the sudden nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She was torn between calling Fornell and telling him what had happened and that Jethro was fighting for his life. By now everyone who needed to know were probably aware that it was the two of them in that safe house. Something about the whole situation felt – off, they had made sure to cover their tracks despite the fact that she had called Tobias.

Taking a deep breath Jenny crossed her arms over her chest, she had to make a decision and she wasn't sure how Jethro would react to it – if he even made it through this. Pushing that thought to the back of her mind she turned back to looking out over the collection of lights that made up the rich stretch of land that was Monte Carlo.

She wasn't exactly sure how long she'd been staring out the large window – it could have been hours – or maybe just a few minutes. One of the maids had placed a set of clean clothes in one of the armchairs earlier, giving her a sympathetic smile as she looked at her. She had managed a thin smile of her own as she thanked the woman.

A door slammed in one of the corridors, alerting her that someone was coming. Jenny tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, and pulled at the blood smeared polo shirt she had on a little uncomfortably. A quick glance at the old clock on the mantle piece told her that she'd been staring over the city for almost two hours. There were faint voices again, whispering just a little too soft for her to hear anything. She squared her shoulders, hoping to hide the anxiousness that coursed through her veins. She had been successful in pushing all thought of Jethro Gibbs out of her mind thus far, but the hesitant steps heading towards her made her reconsider her decision.

The footsteps stopped right outside the open door.

"There's no point in stalling." Jenny spoke, her voice thick in her own ears.

There was an irritated sigh, more with themselves than with her. Nicky rounded the corner casually, an easy smile on her face as she looked at her friend standing across the room from her. The former MI6 agent tilted her head slightly as she regarded the redhead, her pale pink lips pursed thoughtfully. She crossed the room with all the poise she possessed and poured them both a generous amount of whiskey.

Handing the crystal tumbler to her company for the night she took a healthy gulp of her whiskey and sloshed the amber liquid around in her glass. She placed the glass on the edge of the liquor cabinet and considered her friend with a guarded look. The redhead managed a shaky smile and she felt her composure crack.

Nicky grabbed Jenny and hugged her. "Darling, I was so worried." Taking a step back, she held Jenny at arms length, looking her over with large soft blue eyes. "Are you alright, you're not full of holes, are you?"

Jenny gave a soft chuckle, "No, I'm fine." she drained her tumbler, "How's Jethro? Is he okay, can I see him?" The urgency was back in her voice as she looked at the other woman.

"Who's Jethro?" Nicky asked nonchalantly as she refilled the two tumblers with more whiskey. Looking over her shoulder at the redhead, a small smile steeled over her face. "Oh," She handed the tumbler back to Jenny, "You mean that stud you had me patch up – such a fine specimen of a man." Nicky added as an after thought – if only to rile the redhead up to her usual fiery self.

"Nicky," Jenny sighed, tiredness clawed at her viciously as she took another healthy gulp of whiskey.

"He's fine, love." Nicky spoke seriously, "He lost some blood, but other than that, he's fine – whoever shot him had either been hit or couldn't aim to save his life. The through and through missed everything that was vital, it looked worse than it actually was."

Nicky flicked a few strands of blond hair over her shoulder and gave Jenny an easy smile. They had met in Italy during a joint assignment, both equally green and fresh faced sent to do the higher-ups' dirty work. Although the circumstances hadn't been ideal they had become fast friends, and their reassignment to London had made them nearly unstoppable. Up until one had been promoted to Director and the other chose to have an early retirement.

Taking a slow drink from her tumbler, Nicky watched Jenny over the brim of her glass. She was staring out the window again, clearly thinking about something more pressing than the man lying unconscious in one of the bedrooms. "More whiskey?"

"Bourbon," Came the redhead's quiet reply.

"How could I forget." Nicky muttered under her breath and handed over the tumbler full of dark rich bourbon.

Jenny bit her lip as memories flickered through her mind of the first time she had shared the strong alcohol with someone – back then it had reminded her of fire – amber liquid-fire. Sloshing the whiskey around she took a tentative sip, relishing in the slow burn down her throat. "It's an acquired taste."

Paris 1997

They stumbled down the busy street, both more than just slightly inebriated from a healthy dose of whiskey, although she assumed she was the only one who couldn't stand on her own two feet. Jethro seemed to be managing the slippery snow covered sidewalk just fine despite the fact that he'd finished more than half of the bottle of whiskey.

Clutching his arm for dear life she managed to find her grip on the slippery stones and pulled herself to her feet again. He gave her something that was meant to look like a glare but the soft curl of his lips told her that he was highly amused with her sudden inability to walk properly.

Unimpressed with his amusement, she flipped her loose hair over her shoulder and willed herself to let go of him and the heat that surrounded him, and marched down the street. The quick movement seemed to transpire against her and she felt her equilibrium tilt on its axis – the snowy sidewalk was coming closer and she couldn't seem to be able to stop it.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist just before she embarrassed herself and ended up with her face in the snow. Jenny sucked in a sharp breath – his hard body pressed against her back tightly, his breath tickled her ear as he took steady controlled breaths. His skin was hot against her cold cheek as he held her tightly in his arms.

Jethro felt his eyes flutter shut for a split second, the overwhelming scent of honey and vanilla surrounded him as the wind blew strands of crimson hair in his face. He tightened his arms fractionally, nowhere near wanting to let her go, "You okay, Jen?"

Jenny pressed her lips together, ignoring how much she wanted him to keep holding her against his broad chest. Clearing her throat she pushed her hair out of her face, "Yeah, fine, it's the snow, I told you this was a bad idea." She was suddenly overcome with the need to get away from him.

Jethro let go of her, slipping his hands in his coat pockets he gave her a look as she tucked her hair behind her ears. He balled his fists, there were flecks of snow in the red tresses and he had to fight against the urge to feel those silky red strands slip through his fingers. "Thought you said you could handle your liquor?"

Jenny spun around, her green eyes twinkling as the Christmas lights above their heads reflected in her large emerald eyes. "Didn't I just blame this on you?" The smile that she had tried to hide slipped out in anyway and Jethro smiled down at her as well. She had quickly determined that she liked it when he smiled, there was something alluring about the lopsided grin he occasionally offered her.

He didn't say anything, he simply grabbed her arm gently and steered her towards the small bar he'd said had more liquor – that smile still on his lips.

The small bar was quiet, full of lonely men and women spending their time drinking away whatever had driven them here. Jenny raised an eyebrow as she swiveled around on her bar stool, giving the man next to her a strange look, "This place is depressing." she blurted out before she could catch herself.

"It's got bourbon." Jethro growled at her as he slid a fine glass tumbler towards her.

Giving him a prim look she took the glass and knocked the bourbon back in one large gulp. She licked her lips slowly, savoring each drop.

Jethro grit his teeth as he watched the tip of her tongue run over her dark red lips, he swallowed as she looked up at him through her thick lashes, her eyes twinkling. He shifted around and motioned for the bartender to refill their glasses. He placed his foot on the footrest of her chair, stopping her from spinning around. He fought the urge to growl as she placed a small hand on his thigh.

"Bourbon..." She let the word hang in the air as she took a slow deep breath, licking her lips again.

"It's an acquired taste." He finished gruffly as he felt himself slip further in the woman's grip on his thigh.

Present Day

Jenny swirled the bourbon in her glass thoughtfully. That night she'd realized that he was dangerous – thoughts about him were dangerous, especially the ones she had entertained about him. Things had been a lot less complicated back then – they had been two carefree agents enjoying the chance to spend time with someone other than their teammates.

Apart from Nicky, Jethro had been the only agent she knew who never wanted anything more than someone to share a glass of bourbon with. Even though the events of the last few days had been out of her control, she felt almost guilty about using their friendship to chase her grandfather's ghosts. What's done is done, and she had to make peace with that.

She turned around, leaning with her back against large pane of glass. She watched the woman in front of her flick through a few stray papers on the large mahogany desk, clearly trying to give her some time to either sort through her thoughts or finally crack and tell her what was going on. Deciding to hold off on telling her the reason why they had crashed her quiet night, she placed her third empty glass on the liquor cabinet and crossed her arms over her chest.

"It's strange being here when there's no serious business deal going on in the main room." Jenny laughed, although it sounded more forced than humorous. The woman across from her smiled the smile that could get her out of any form of trouble and turned to look at Jenny.

Nicky placed her glass on the desk and mirrored her friends stance. "Why is the Director of the FBI in my house covered in blood accompanied by one of NCIS' agents?"

Jenny felt the blood drain from her face.

She didn't doubt that Nicky still had contacts in the Secret Intelligence Service, and if they had been able to supply her with information it would explain why their six guests had showed up on their doorstep. She met the other woman's pale blue eyes and swallowed, she couldn't put it past her to do the right thing either – the last thing she'd expect of her friend would be to go against everything they had spent their lives seeking justice for.

Jenny tilted her head back, her face a stone cold mask – something she'd perfected early in her career as an agent. The cool butt of her Sig pressing into the small of her back gave her the courage she needed. "We'll leave," She wouldn't allow her feelings to show as she met the woman's intense gaze, "I couldn't just let him die."

Nicky's shoulders relaxed, "Don't be daft." she laughed quietly, "Come on, Jenny, you know I'd kill for you. I just want to know why you, of all people, would show up here looking like you do."

Jenny closed her eyes for a moment, an embarrassed smile on her face. "It's complicated to say the least."

"You mean the fact that the Russian Mafia is after you, and that they're suspecting Bullet Boy to be a part of it all." Nicky laughed at her own stupid joke before meeting the redhead's narrowed green eyes, she shrugged her shoulders. "I'm on your side, Jenny. Hell, it has been a while since I had this much fun all in one night."

Jenny smirked, "Does your husband know you say that?"

Nicky waved her hand in the air flippantly, giving the redhead a pointed look, it was a little known fact that the couple had a knack for getting in trouble.

"Where's Jethro? I'd like to see him." Jenny took the small pile of clothes off the armchair and headed for the door.

Nicky leaned her hip against the large desk. She tucked yet another errant piece of hair behind her ear and looked at Jenny with large twinkling eyes. Pushing away from the desk she sauntered to where Jenny was waiting rather impatiently, she narrowed her knowing eyes and smiled thinly, "Jethro..." she said slowly, "It's him, isn't it?"

Jenny squared her shoulders, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Nicky laughed, "Don't play dumb with me, Jenny. It's him, he's the one you met in Paris." When Jenny didn't reply, she softened her gaze and placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Does he know? About..."

Jenny shook her head quickly, "He suspects, but I don't see why it's got anything to do with him."

"Just tell him, darling." Nicky placed a soft hand on Jenny's cheek, "If you care about him, tell him the truth."

Jenny sighed heavily, giving her a tired smile as she nodded.

Nicky backed away, "He's in the guestroom, up the stairs down the hall, third door on the right." Jenny thanked her quietly and rushed off in that direction.

Her heavy footsteps thumped quietly as she walked down the long hall, turning at the corner she stopped in her tracks, looking at the closed bedroom door. She suddenly felt conflicted about going in, Nicky had dredged up things she would have preferred not be mentioned. After learning about Jethro's family she'd had quiet a number of days to think about the choices she had made, and whether she'd been as wise as she'd hoped.

Taking a deep breath she pushed the heavy wooden door open.

There was a dim yellow light burning in the corner, making the room look warm and welcoming as she stepped inside. Pulling the dirty shirt over her head and pulling the clean one on, she deposited the pile of clothes on a nearby chair, she moved towards the bed hesitantly. Careful to jostle it, she took a seat on the edge.

He was sprawled out over the covers, looking more relaxed than he ever had been. He was snoring softly, his mouth slightly agape and for once his eyes didn't constantly flicker behind his eyelids. Crossing her legs neatly underneath her, Jenny propped her chin up on the palm of her hand and watched Jethro in his Nalbuphine induced sleep.

He never seemed to relax when he slept, and if it hadn't been for the strong pain reliever she was more than sure he'd be having another nightmare. The first night it happened had been in Marseille, he'd mumbled almost none stop in his sleep, his muscles constantly flexing under his tanned skin as he fought whatever demons plagued him in the night. She didn't have to guess what it was he was dreaming about, it was pretty obvious and it pained her to see that he was still suffering – but it wasn't her place to try and relieve some of the things he was going through.

Last night had been a blur of pleasure and their heated bodies moving together – she couldn't remember ever feeling as possessed by someone as she had by him. Maybe it was because she was older, more mature, or maybe it was because he was older than most of the men she had been with. Pushing the steamy images out of her mind, she concentrated instead on his chest rising and falling.

Jenny pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. Things were spiraling out of hand quicker than she could keep up with. She'd thought about leaving Jethro with Nicky, at least until she could figure out where the last two diamonds were. Or – she could ask Nicky to have him flown back to the States, at least then she'd know he was safe and she could finish this on her own.

Jethro took a shuddering breath and her head snapped up. He let out a soft sigh, licked his lips and pursed them for a moment. His right hand twitched before he relaxed again. "Jen..." He muttered, his hand balling into a fist.

"I'm here." Jenny whispered softly, placing one hand over his and running the other through his soft silver hair.

"Jenny..." He groaned softly before his head lolled towards her voice – his lips pursed again.

The redhead smiled softly, no matter how infuriating he could be, a part of her couldn't help but find him absolutely adorable when he was momentarily unguarded and unconcerned about being his tough self. Sighing, she moved around until she was stretched out next to him, her head resting next to his on the pillow. Swallowing past the sudden tightness in her throat, she shifted until she could feel Jethro's warm breath on her face.

Leaning forward she kissed him softly, lingering for a moment. She prided herself in the fact that she didn't jump when he kissed her back, although not as powerful as he usually kissed her, but she blamed the pain medication. Closing her eyes she allowed his shallow breathing to calm her – she reached for his hand and laced her fingers with his – knowing that when the time came he'd be the only thing she'd be able to hold on to.

There was a buzz of activity in the small neighborhood – soft whispers of what had happened last night. The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon, chasing away the chill of the night. Yellow tape quarantined the crime scene, but it didn't stop reporters – both veteran and rookie – from trying to slip underneath unnoticed. A police officer barked at yet another reporter to step away from the tape or face serious consequences, as they strolled up to the yellow tape, that was so familiar they almost felt at home.

The officer opened his mouth to say something before he closed it with a soft snap. He looked at their credentials sceptically. Unable to find any fault with them he lifted the tape reluctantly and let them pass underneath. A young reporter voiced his opinion, earning himself another bark, although it didn't require any translation to let the two agents know the officer was at the end of his tether.

Tony scrubbed a hand over his face tiredly, running across Europe on a wild goose chase with only few hours of borrowed sleep was starting to get to him. Running his tongue over his teeth he cleared his throat a little too loud and earned himself an annoyed glare from Ziva. He gave her a blank look and waited for her to take the lead toward the safe house neither of them even knew existed.

The Italian looked over his shoulder, his tired and scratchy olive eyes running over the small crowd that had dwindled since the police had arrived. He swallowed against the dry feeling in his throat and turned around again, not exactly sure what had made him turn around.

Ziva felt a moment of relief once she saw the dead body sprawled out on the cement steps, still not covered since he had been found. She felt her partner shift anxiously – knowing he was dreading whatever was going on inside the house.

"At least they fought back." She said almost hoarsely.

"Doesn't mean they're not dead." Tony muttered darkly as he stood next to her, looking a little worse for ware.

Giving him a concerned look, she decided to keep her opinion to herself. Tucking an unruly lock of curly hair out of her face, she climbed the steps – hoping to hide how tired she was. Flashing her badge at the man near the door he nodded at her and let them pass.

The fact that the five dead bodies lying around them didn't provoke some feel of unease was a testament of how long they had been dealing with situations like these. There were a few inspectors nodding at them as they entered, but most of them were either too busy or in deep conversation about how this had happened.

A familiar voice sounded above the rest and the two agents looked up instantly.

"Hey!" A hand waved in the air almost frantically as the person spotted them, the hand dropped and they heard the broken French accent drift towards them as the person weaved through the group of people.

The head of dirty blond hair popped up before them, a classic all-American smile on his face. "Had a feelin' I'd be seein' the two of you here."

"News travels fast." Ziva growled under her breath.

"What do you expect, Zee-vah? We work for NCIS." Tony grunted next to her. They glared at each other darkly for a moment.

Stan Burley looked between the two agents with a slight smirk on his face. "Been spending a lot of time together, huh?"

Tony gave him a slight roll of his eyes and motioned towards Ziva vaguely as if he'd understand exactly what he meant. Stan only gave him a blinding bright smile and adjusted his cap on his head. Rocking back on his heels he regarded the Israeli with a soft smile, "So what brings you lot here?"

"I thought you knew?" Ziva gave him a skeptical look, not entirely sure who she could trust.

"Well, I know Gibbs and Jenny are M.I.A, I also know that this thing started back in the sixties – at least that's what the files told me." Stan pulled his cap from his head and slapped it in his hand thoughtfully.

He looked around the room at everyone gathered in the old safe house. Placing the worn out NCIS cap on his head he motioned for the two agents to follow him.

Stan slid his hands in his jean pockets as casually as he could, leading Tony and Ziva past the couch and table that lay in various splinters on the floor. He knew pretty well that the two agents would only need one glance at the pool- and splatters of blood to draw the conclusion that either Gibbs or Jenny had been hit. It had been the first thing he'd processed when he'd stumbled through the broken front door – still half asleep as he did so.

He wrenched the backdoor open a little harder than necessary, giving the few officers standing around a glare. They rolled their eyes and trudged back to the yellow tape they were enlisted with guarding. He strode to where the splatters of blood ended and turned on his heel, giving the other two agents a cautious look.

"Everyone who should know about this, thinks that Jenny and Gibbs are in on this together, so they might have more enemies than they thought." Stan placed his hands on his hips, looking between the two agents with concern.

Tony scoffed and shook his head, "Come on, Stan. Gibbs, a double agent? We might have more luck seeing him in a tutu." Tony snorted with laughter, finding his own joke funny.

Stan smiled and shook his head. "The two of you might not know this, but Shepard and Gibbs are unstoppable. Back in the nineties they were the best agents the FBI and NCIS had for undercover Ops. Are they in on this? Probably not, but someone's got it in for them."

Burley ran a hand through his hair, looking back at the old safe house. "The two of you didn't know about this place, did you?"

Tony shook his head. Safe houses were never really mentioned, and they were usually placed in hotels, making it a little more inconspicuous to be found. Yet, if he'd been assigned with finding someone, he would have passed right by this house never even suspecting this to be a hide out.

"How many people do know about this place?" Ziva asked, looking up from studying the trail of blood that led down the steps and then suddenly stopped near a set of tyre tracks.

"After today, everyone." Stan smiled at Ziva, but turned serious the moment she glared at him. "Those of us who were here during the nineties, Tom Morrow, and then of course Jenny… oh and Fornell." Stan looked between the two agents with a slight smile.

Tony's brows knitted together. He had a feeling Tobias knew more about what was going on than any of them. He listened to Ziva as she continued questioning Stan about what he knew, and if they had been able to narrow down whether it was Jenny or Gibbs who had been shot. There was something amiss, something that all of them weren't seeing.

"Then how did the Russian's know where to find them?" Tony placed his hands on his hips looking at the officers mulling about inside the safe house.

Stan adjusted his cap and placed both hands on his hips. "Someone's either been following them, or they were tipped off." Running his tongue over his teeth, he looked at the two people in front of him seriously. "I'll keep you updated but you better find them. And fast."

Ziva let out a slow breath, her dark eyes running over the uniformed policemen walking about. She could feel the frustration roll off her partner as they watched Stan walk back into the safe house. Her tired mind took a few seconds to realize that Tony was already moving towards the silver BMW they had managed to find.

"Tony!" She called after him as he marched across the street, his sunglasses already on his nose. "DiNozzo!"

"What?!" The Italian spun around, his mouth in a thin line as he glared at her from behind his sunglasses.

Ziva bit the inside of her cheek and stepped closer to him, backing him up against the car. A small hand rested on his sternum, applying the slightest pressure. "Stop it!"

Tony grit his teeth, ignoring the warmth of her hand on his chest and the way her body felt pressed against his. "Stop what, Ziva? Do you realize that if we'd acted sooner none of this would have happened?"

Ziva stepped back, her hand dropping back to rest limply by her side. Pushing her thick curly hair out of her face she regarded her partner with a guarded look. "You can't always blame yourself, Tony. They knew what they were getting themselves into."

"Maybe we should have stopped them." The words sounded ridiculous even to his own ears. Tony lifted a hand to his face, rubbing at the stubble that had formed since the last time he'd shaved. He was tired – his body was tired, but they couldn't stop now. "Where do you think they'd go, which hospital?"

Ziva shook her head, "They would not go to a hospital, they'd probably rely on connections, someone they could trust."

"Yeah not a lot of those around, where do we start?"

The Israeli pulled her sunglasses from where they had been hooked on the collar of her t-shirt, placing them on her nose she took the keys out of Tony's hands and gave him a slight smile. "With those who have been lying to us from the beginning."

The warm sun warmed the black material of his jacket as he walked up the quiet street, heating the backs of his ears as well as he meandered through the narrow streets. He didn't want to think about the repercussions his decisions would cause. Scrubbing a hand over his chin, he saw his little girl behind his closed eyelids, her large warm smile as she hugged him goodbye. She had made him promise to bring her uncle Gibbs back, and he was terrified that he might fail.

Tobias ran a hand over his face, pulling his jacket tighter and continuing up the cobblestone path that led to the house he'd only visited once. He hadn't meant to lie about Seamus' whereabouts, but he'd seen it only fit that they not contact or see him. The last thing he'd anticipated was for Jethro and Jenny to disappear, but he should have seen it coming.

He'd only recently unearthed the well kept secret that they had worked together in Paris, and it had shed some light on some of the things that had happened after Jenny's brief assignment in France. He adjusted his tattered ball cap and turned up the collar of his jacket, despite the heat beating down on his back it was still cold.

Tobias stopped, looking out over the park across the street. He watched as a group of teenagers kicked a soccer ball around. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the street, making sure that he'd lost whoever might have been following him. He'd turned off his phone and had dug out his alias in order to slip out underneath the Attorney General's radar – and the watchful gaze of Abby and McGee.

Satisfied that no one was following him, he started walking again, quietly asking himself what he was going to do when all of this backfired – he'd be lucky enough if he didn't end up in prison. What was he thinking? Scuffing his boots on the pavement he soldiered on, preferring to focus on what he was going to do next.

The first sign that something was off, was the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. He slowed to a stop in the driveway, looking at the house with something aching towards dread. The last thing he wanted to find was Seamus murdered in his own home, yet he had a feeling Jenny had made contact with him.

Reluctantly he made his way up the driveway, still looking around him to make sure there was nothing out of place. He knew all too well how the Russian's operated, and he knew Gibbs had intimate knowledge about what they did to their enemies. His hand slipped to his hip, his fingers wrapping around the butt of his Glock, his trigger finger resting idly on the slide.

He knocked – once – twice – once again.

There was no movement as he listened, his ear pressed against the smooth wood. He pulled his Glock out of its holster, his heart thumping in his throat – he didn't know what he'd find on the other side of the door and he didn't think he really wanted to.

He tried the doorknob, only to find that it wasn't locked. He lifted his pistol, training it with ease, he nudged the door open with the tip of his boot.

The place had been ransacked, broken ornaments and picture frames were scattered on the floor, the few pieces of furniture in the hall broken. Tobias lifted his Glock a little higher, he dreaded finding the man he was looking for tortured to death in the next room. He took a step towards the living room, the floorboards creaking under his heavy boots – shards of glass cracking under the pressure.

He tried ignoring his heart hammering in his throat, swallowing the sick feeling as he inched forward. He couldn't fathom that no one had heard a commotion. Tightening his grip on the butt of the gun he swung around the first corner, his body tense and his senses panicked.

Tobias twitched his nose slightly as the heavy smell of blood finally registered in his mind. His eye flicked down to the pair of shoes sticking out from behind the couch. For the first time there was a small sense of relief when he realized the pair of Adidas trainers definitely didn't belong to Seamus Shepard. He doubted they would have been stupid enough to send only one man to do the job. Given their failure in Marseille with Jenny and Gibbs he was more than confident that they'd send an entire army.

The Marseille debacle had prompted him to go after them, even if he could just give them fair warning of what was going on.

Moving closer to the couch he inspected the damage. It was glaringly obvious that whoever had fire a round through the poor bastard knew what they were doing. Tobias lifted his Glock again, he was starting to wonder whether they had killed Seamus or kidnapped him for leverage.

Making his way to the hall he felt something cold press squarely against the back of his head. He closed his eyes, waiting for the bullet to rip through his skull. He felt the silencer dig into his head with more force. Lifting his hands he prayed that they'd spare him the suffering and just plant a bullet between his eyes.

"You here to finish me off?" A gruff voice asked, digging the silencer further into his scalp.

"That's no way to treat a friend." Tobias felt the pressure falter against his head, he craned his neck slightly, trying to see the man's face.

"Fornell?" Seamus eased the pistol away from the man's head.

Tobias dropped his arms to his sides and turned slowly, a relieved smile on his face. The old man didn't look one day older than the last time he'd seen him – even though his red hair was as white as snow. Holstering his Glock he placed his hands on his hips, "You hurt?"

Seamus gave the man a demurring look for suggesting he couldn't handle the situation. Screwing the silencer off the Sig he placed it on the only surviving table and tucked his weapon in at the small of his back. "Something tells me this isn't a social visit."

"The dead body kind of gave that away." Tobias retorted as he watched Seamus run a hand through his hair.

"There's another one in the kitchen." Seamus said nonchalantly, "Now, why are you here?"

Tobias raised an eyebrow at him skeptically, "Jenny was here, wasn't she." he didn't have to ask. The old man was on edge and the way he kept looking at his watch gave him away more than it should.

"Last I heard my granddaughter was the Director of the FBI, I doubt she has the time to visit me." Seamus snapped gruffly, unimpressed with the agent.

"Bullshit, Seamus, you know as well as I do she's missing – and that these men are connected to the men who are after her." Tobias felt the heat rise in his cheeks, he was tired of all the lies.

"And you've been doing a shit job of protecting her!" Seamus snapped at him viciously, his cheeks flushing with anger. He shook his head, muttering something to himself under his breath. "Why are you here, Tobias, and not going after Jenny instead?"

Tobias narrowed his eyes, looking at his mentor for a long moment. "I don't know where she is. I didn't even know they had left."

Seamus smiled almost proudly. "Can't you call Jeremiah or something or other, maybe he can tell you where they are?"

Fornell bit back a smile, "His names Jethro, not Jeremiah."

Seamus waved his hand in the air flippantly, he didn't really care what the man's name was, as long as he was keeping his granddaughter safe it was all that mattered. He gave Fornell a narrowed look before brushing past him, he heard him let out an irritated sigh before walking after him.

"Why are you here again?" Seamus asked as he made his way down the hall.

Tobias watched the older man closely as they stepped inside the small study. "NCIS is keeping me out of the loop, Jenny's missing, and you seem to be the only one who knows what's going on." He raised an eyebrow at the older man as they stared at each other. "Oh and the limping, it's not working, I could see right through it."

Seamus rolled his eyes, "Worked with Jenny and Japheth." he snapped at the man across from him.

Fornell shook his head and pushed away from the door he'd been leaning against. "Jenny's worried about you, so she wouldn't second guess a limp. Gibbs on the other hand, I doubt that you pulled the wool over his eyes."

Seamus gave Tobias a dirty look as he spun the dial on the safe with ease, the combination discs clicking with each turn. Pulling the heavy door open he took the Sig from where it was tucked in. He held the empty clip up before him, looking straight at Tobias. "What makes you think I can help you?"

"More pressing question is why you aren't with them?" Tobias took a seat on one of the leather chairs, running a hand over his mouth in frustration.

Seamus slammed a full clip into his pistol. "As long as we're not together we have an equal chance of surviving." Pulling another pistol out of the safe he checked it over before meeting the other man's gaze. "Same can't be said for your friend. As far as the Russian's are concerned he's just getting in the way."

"What do you suggest we do?" He pushed himself out of his chair, his hands sliding into his trouser pockets.

Seamus looked up from holstering his weapon, a dangerous smirk on his lined face.

There was something soothing about listening to his ragged breathing, although she knew he was in immense pain, it was comforting to know that he was still alive. Night had faded into day and before she knew it, it had been dark once again. Now the sun was starting to rise once again and they had to get moving again. Pushing her hair out of her face she looked through the small gap between the two curtains at the deep blue sea.

Jethro shifted around slightly, his face contorting in pain at the movement. The pain coursing through him was close to paralyzing. He didn't know where he was, all that he knew was that she had managed to get them somewhere safe for the moment. He hadn't been aware of the pain up until he'd tried to move. It had brought everything back, the rain of bullets and the thought that he might have lost her.

Biting down on his lip he tried pushing himself up – pain soared through his abdomen and he bit his lip even harder, drawing blood. He rested his head against the headboard, his pale eyes scanning the room lethargically. He found her staring out the window, the sun catching her hair just right. He grit his teeth painfully hard, just breathing was taking more out of him than he'd expected.

Squeezing his eyes shut he pushed himself up further, letting out a grunt between his teeth. He could feel the sutures pull at his skin as he moved, ignoring the pain as much as possible he collapsed against the headboard. Opening one eye he saw her watching him. The flair of sunlight behind her made it impossible for him to actually see her face. Groaning, he sat forward, lifting an arm to shield his eyes from the sunlight.

There was a rustle of curtains before everything was dark again, streaks of flashing white dancing across his vision. Blinking he finally managed to focus on one thing – her.

He watched as she tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear and licked her lips. Even in his slightly dazed state of mind he could see she was on edge. He grit his teeth as she pressed a small hand against his abdomen, the coolness of her palm welcoming against his heated skin. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder he placed his hand over hers, lacing his fingers with hers.

"You okay?" He forced out gruffly, his throat dry.

"Think I should be asking you that." She tried smiling.

"Fine." He bit out roughly, not wanting her to worry about him despite the fact that the pain was slowly starting to spread and become more unbearable. He ran a hand over the bandages lightly, wondering if they were really necessary.

Jenny fisted a hand in her hair tightly, she could feel heat rising up her throat and crawl across her cheeks. Biting her tongue she tried telling herself that she couldn't allow her personal feelings to interfere. She was annoyed – more than annoyed – pissed off sounded more like it. She had worried that he wouldn't be waking up, only to have him act like only he could – it was pissing her off more than it should. Flinching slightly at how tightly she had pulled her hair, she pushed away from where she had been sitting on the edge – content to let him suffer in pain.

Calloused fingers laced around her wrist.

She saw the muscles of his jaw ripple as he ground his teeth together in pain – his eyes a hazy blue as he looked up at her. She could see the concern in his eyes as they ran across her face. Biting her lip she felt herself give in, silently chastising herself for allowing the pleading in his eyes to draw her in. Taking a seat again she ran a hand through his silver hair.

Her fingers trailed down the side of his face, his stubble scratching the tips of her fingers. He hardly even flinched as her fingers grazed over the cuts on his face, he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, his breath hot on the inside of her palm. Leaning her forehead against his she pressed her nose against his cheek, assuring herself that he was okay.

Jethro placed a hand on the back of her neck, his fingers weaving through her hair. He could smell the coffee on her breath and the ever present scent of honey and vanilla that always surrounded her. Pulling her closer he pressed his lips against hers, he pushed the stab of pain to the back of his mind. He tilted his head slightly and kissed her hard and long, ignoring the dull pain and the burn in his lungs.

The soft grunt he let slip had her pulling away. The usually golden tanned skin of his face was pale as he held onto her, his lips pressed in a thin line. She could hear his teeth grinding together as he fought against the pain. Letting her fingers slip down the side of his face she brushed away the beads of precipitation – his hands had clamped down on her shoulders, holding on for dear life. She knew that the Nalbuphine had worked out of his system over the last six hours and that the pain was returning with a vengeance, but they needed to get going and for that he needed to be relatively awake. Running a soothing hand through his damp silver hair, she gave him a concerned look.

Jethro shook his head, swallowing, he dropped his head against the headboard again, looking at her closely. The dark circles under her eyes were a clear indication that she hadn't slept in a while, and the way her nostrils flared occasionally told him she was irritated. He opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it. Curling his fists into the duvet cover he pushed himself up, bringing him face to face with her again.

"Are you hurt?" If it hadn't been for the gruffness in his voice she would have been able to hear the fear with which he spoke.

"Scrapes and bruises, nothing that can't heal." She spoke softly. She was feeling things that hadn't been present in her life for quiet a while and she was having a hard time figuring out how to handle them. "You could have died." She blurted out as she looked at him, the dull colour of his blue eyes were unsettling – she was used to them being vibrant with colour and occasionally icy.

"So could you," He met her emerald gaze. "I told you to run no matter what." He sounded gruff again. He placed a roughened palm against her cheek, forcing her to look at him. He didn't want to think about what could have happened to her if they had kidnapped her, his drug induced sleep had plagued him with nightmares of her being slaughter right in front of him, her blood on his hands.

Jenny swallowed heavily as she leaned closer to him, her lips brushing his as she spoke, "I couldn't leave you, Jethro."

They're lips touched softly, just shy of kissing each other. Green eyes met blue, the electricity crackling between them. The tension was palpable as they stared at each other – it was hard to separate work and personal feelings once the lines between the two were blurred. Jethro allowed his eyes to flick down to her lips, watching them part slightly in anticipation. Pain pulsed through him as he pulled her against him, his lips meeting hers, their tongues touching.

He pulled away, running his thumb over her swollen lips. He swallowed whatever had welled up in his throat, meeting her eyes she gave him a long hard look before pulling away. Swinging his legs off the bed, he struggled to his feet, everything around him spinning for a moment. Gritting his teeth he pushed the nausea away and grabbed the black button up shirt sitting on the bedside stand.

Jethro forced his hands to stop shaking, the stitches in his shoulder stung but it was manageable, the dull throb in his ribs on the other hand was a different story. He could feel beads of sweat roll from his neck all the way down his spine. He could hear his own breathing in his ears as he concentrated on staying up right and forcing his fingers to work.

Her soft hands covered his, forcing him to drop his arms to his sides. She dragged her fingers over his chest, wondering if the goosebumps on his skin had to do with her touch or the pain he was feeling. Tucking his shirt in she smiled devilishly as she heard his sharp intake of breath as her nails scraped the skin below his bellybutton.

The large wooden doors swung open, allowing the frantic chatter of French to filter into the room. Nicky looked between the two people, a blonde eyebrow raised sceptically despite the urgency going on behind her. A sly smile crossed her pretty face as she met Jenny's annoyed green gaze. The former agent lifted her hands apologetically, the smile still firmly in place. "Don't mind me."

There was another bark of French somewhere down the corridor, causing the smile to drop from her face. Trying to school her features quickly she took a step further into the room, not caring that she'd interrupted something serious between the two agents. Nicky tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. "As much as I hate to interrupt," She looked over her shoulder, "there has been an interesting development. So if the two of you are done undressing each other, I suggest we get a move on."

"Madame, nous devons partir, maintenant!"

Nicky rolled her eyes, "Yes, Maurice! I know, don't get your knickers in a twist!"

Jethro glared at the woman as he listened to her yap in French. He felt the warmth of Jenny's hands on him slip away as she dropped her hands from his waistband and started looking around the room frantically. It was clear that he was missing something, whoever Maurice was, he was still shouting in French and the two women in the room with him looked increasingly alarmed. Gritting his teeth and taking the pain in stride he slipped his boots on.

"How long do we have?" Jenny looked at Nicky who had stopped grinning, instead she was checking her watch meticulously. In the corner of her eye she could see Jethro struggle to keep up, but she knew any help she would offer would be shot down.

"Oh, I'd say about a five minutes head start, so I suggest we start moving." Nicky barked over her shoulder as she marched back into the hallway snapping at someone in French.

"Jen," Jethro growled as he made his way towards her, his blue eyes dark as he watched her. "What the hell is going on?" Irritation boiled inside him as she shook her head and moved around the room quickly – packing something here, and throwing something in a backpack there. He walked to where she was zipping up one of the backpacks, breathing in sharply with each step – his ribs were killing him.

He glared at her for a while, growing frustrated with her lack of talking. Reaching out he grabbed her arm, he felt the blood drain from his face as he met her large green eyes. The large emerald pools were bloodshot, the usual fire in her eyes was nearly none existent. He'd seen anxiety in her eyes before, but not like this – she was looking at him with naked fear, as if it had just dawned on her that he should have died in that safe house and that she'd be tortured until she suffered the same fate.

Gritting his teeth he placed a hand on her cheek, a silent sign of reassurance. Dragging his thumb over her cheekbone he gave her a tight smile. "No matter what, Jenny."

The redhead looked up at him, "No matter what."

There was a clatter in the hall followed by a pair of heavy footsteps. Jenny looked up as the footsteps stopped in front of the door. It was the same pilot who had watched her so stoically, as if he was silently judging her actions.

"Madame Nicky is waiting for you." It was impossible not to recognize his heavy accented voice from earlier.

"Thank you, Maurice." Jenny nodded at him before he spun on his heel and marched down the hall the same way he had came.

Jenny zipped the last backpack up, watching Jethro flinch as he swung the other backpack over his shoulder. She shook her head and slung her own over her shoulder. "We have to get going. You sure you're okay to walk?" She'd seen the strange almost sideways steps he'd taken towards her.

Jethro glared at her, not answering. He made a halfhearted motion towards the door, letting her walk in front of him. He wasn't going to admit that everything around him seemed to be spinning or that he was growing increasingly nauseous.

They meandered down a series of never ending hallways, and he was convinced that if she suddenly disappeared he'd have a hard time finding his way back to where they had started or even to a door. There was a reason he never took pain medication, he'd rather walk around in agonizing pain than suffer from the side effects medication gave him.

He heard the heavy click of a door before a gust of fresh air hit him in the face. Jethro curled his fist tightly, trying to swallow whatever was rising in his throat. He listened to Jenny shout something in French, before he was corralled into a silver sports car.

Jethro grunted as he landed ungracefully in the passenger seat of the silver Mercedes-Benz, he could hear the large twelve cylinder engine purr despite the ringing in his ears. He grabbed the door handle, trying to force his body to re-orientate itself before he hurled. His vision swam profusely making it hard to concentrate on the buzz of activity going on around him.

The driver's side door was wrenched open, revealing the redhead who had thrown him into the car. Jenny looked at him with guarded emerald eyes, hiding whatever was troubling her. She stared at him for a long moment as if she was considering her options of leaving him or taking him with her. Jethro tilted his head to the side, trying his best to glare at her as she tried to make her decision.

Jenny bit the tip of her tongue – there was no leaving him behind now, they were in this for the long haul. She straightened, watching as Nicky rushed through the double doors they had just stumbled through. The blonde gave her a calm smile as she strolled towards her.

"Well, my dear, it seems like were parting the same way we did the last time we were in London together." Nicky smiled at the redhead openly, the twinkle in her eye giving away just how much she was enjoying the rush of everything.

"Only difference being I'm the one on the run this time." Jenny added quietly. "I owe you, Nicky."

Nicky waved her hand in the air flippantly, "I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you for saving my life." the former agent looked at her seriously before the smile returned to her face. "Tell you what you can do," the blonde's eyes danced again, "Once everything's over, why don't you take a few days off and bring that fine specimen of a man with you."

Jenny shook her head as Nicky laughed quietly.

"Leave, now, before it's too late." In the distance sirens echoed as their visitors drew near.

\/

The large twelve cylinder engine growled as they sped through the winding streets of Monte Carlo. Jethro tightened his grip on the door handle, trying to force the bile rising in his throat to stay down long enough. He glared at the redhead next to him as she slammed on the brakes, the squealing tires echoing inside his brain. "Jeez, Jen!" He snapped as she accelerated again – and he thought driving with Ziva was terrifying.

She didn't say anything, her large green eyes stayed glued on the road in front of them, her lips pressed into a thin line. His glare darkened, licking his lips he pulled himself straighter in his seat, ignoring the pain shooting down his shoulder as the stitches pulled at his skin.

"Jen," He growled as they skidded around yet another corner, "What the hell is going on?"

She gave him a vicious look, her eyes dark, and he couldn't help the slight flip his stomach made as he met her eyes. Pressing a hand against his ribs to stop the pulsing pain, he turned towards her, not caring about the reckless way she drove anymore. "Jen, what happened?"

Jenny shook her head, "Yesterday morning, word reached Nicky that the French police were looking for us in connection with the shootout." the redhead took a deep breath as she gunned the silver Mercedes down yet another street. "I don't know how they found us in Monte Carlo, but if we don't get away… we might spend the next few years in a French prison."

Anger bubbled inside him – none of this would have happened if he had just left whatever had been between them where it belonged – back in '97. He shook his head imperceptibly, nothing good could ever come from being involved with a woman when they dealt with something as sensitive as this. Maybe his short lived marriage in Russia had been a warning, instead of a sad reminder and a reason to douse himself with alcohol.

"This was a bad idea." He muttered under his breath, hoping she wouldn't hear.

The redhead tightened her grip on the steering wheel. "What was?" Anger dripped from her voice as she regarded him. "Was it my attempt at getting us to safety? Or are you talking about the fact that we had meaningless sex?!"

It was brief – so brief that if he hadn't listened or if he had been looking at something other than her, he would've missed it. She was pissed off, that much he knew, but there had been something in her eyes that was so cryptic he didn't actually know what to make of it. He waited for the other shoe to drop – the ranting over his selfish way of taking only what he wanted and then leaving.

Emotional bullying – two words Diane had so gracefully shouted just as she swung a seven iron at his head with more skill than he'd ever seen before.

Jethro took a deep breath, he'd learned his lesson long ago – before the wives, even with Shannon he'd known to shut up, because whatever he said next would make things worse – and words weren't really his thing.

Jenny shook her head – criticism had always been her weakest point, he hadn't elaborated on what he thought was a bad idea and she had snapped out of reflex. All she'd ever heard was that there was no place for a woman in their line of work and when someone had deemed her fit for the job as director, she'd not only been accused of being favored because of who her grandfather was – but also of sleeping her way to the top. Although in light of things – she was now sleeping with the enemy – figuratively – or at the moment literally.

"Jen, I-" He said gruffly as they shot around yet another bend.

"No." She snapped back, holding up a finger – as if scolding a child. "I never asked you to do this, you kidnapped me, remember?" Wrapping her fingers around the steering wheel again she focused on the road. "You can walk away from this, Jethro. I'll even drive you to the airport."

He turned towards her, his eyes dark and guarded, his top lip curling in anger as his cheeks started flushing with rage. "I don't leave my partner behind." He watched her, his eyes almost scrutinizing her every move, "It's a Marine thing, wouldn't expect you to understand."

If he had meant to hurt her – she hoped she was able of not showing it. Keeping her eyes on the road instead of looking at him, she could see Port Hercule, the shimmering blue water of the Mediterranean Sea inviting as she watched various expensive boats float lazily on the crystal water.

Tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear she looked over at him as he scowled at her. "I'm not your partner."

The silver Mercedes rolled to a stop, the V12 engine revving one last time before the ignition was turned off. The open sea lay a few yards away, they luxury yachts and sailboats bobbing as the water lapped against the docks. A group of tourists walked past the car, laughing and talking, one or two of them noticing the sleek sports car.

Jenny pulled her ponytail tighter, turning in her seat she grabbed the two backpacks that lay on the backseat, the metal zips burning her fingers from laying in the sun. Unzipping one, she looked inside, scanning the contents quickly she grabbed her baseball cap and zipped the backpack up. Jethro was watching her, glaring at her, she ignored him purposefully.

Chucking the other backpack onto his lap she heard him grunt in order to hide the sharp gasp of pain. There was no apologetic look from her as he closed his eyes. Throwing her door open she placed one boot clad foot on the asphalt – noise spilling into the car. There were people talking, music blaring somewhere and cars hooting and revving – it sounded like chaos and it most probably was.

"There's a private jet waiting at the Cote d'Azur airport, it'll take you straight back to DC." Without waiting for a reply she climbed out of the car and slammed the door.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she forced the burning away, swallowing, she swung the backpack over her shoulder and stepped onto the sidewalk – falling in sync with the crowd. She listened as everyone shared their likes and dislikes of everything they had seen. She fought against the tears, finding it more than ridiculous that she was this emotional over something she had decided on her own – then again walking away had never been easy, and she had some experience in that.

A large hand clamped down on her shoulder, effectively stopped her in her tracks. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, her cheeks flushing with relief. Taking a deep breath she spun around, facing him.

"Pardon." The man looked at her slightly embarrassed, his shaggy brown hair hanging in his eyes. It was clear from how unfamiliar the word sounded in his mouth that he didn't speak French.

"Can I help you?" It was hard not to keep both disappointment and irritation out of her voice.

"I thought you were someone else." The young man's Texan drawl was a welcoming reminder of home.

"It's alright." Jenny smiled at him, noting for the first time that he couldn't be older than sixteen. He ran a hand through his long hair before making a move to step past her.

He gave her another embarrassed smile before darting off and trying to find whoever he was looking for. Jenny bit the inside of her lip, rolling her eyes for thinking it could have been him – Leroy Jethro Gibbs ran after no one. Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, she started walking again, falling behind the noisy group of tourists she had ended up in.

Breaking off from the group she made her way onto the docks, listening to the water lap against the structure and her boots thudding against the planks. She passed yacht after yacht, each more majestic than the first. She tried not to look over her shoulder, knowing that sending him back to DC was for the better, he'd only get himself killed.

The vessel lay waiting, the shimmering water lapping gently against the glossy black hull. The perfectly varnished deck sparkled almost as if it was made out of water, the steady drumming of the large engine almost calling her to climb on board. She saw movement up top in the steering station as she ran her gaze over the large yacht.

"Madame Jenny," Jacques, the young man who had stared at her almost terrified the night they had arrived in Monte Carlo, looked much more at ease in his neat pair of white shorts and maroon coloured polo shirt. "where is your partner?"

"Probably halfway to Nice!" She shouted as she looked up at the young man.

Jacques skipped down the set of stairs, stopping right in front of the redhead quicker than she could follow him with her eyes. He held out a hand to her gallantly, an open smile on his face. "It is a pity. I was hoping I could talk to him about this fine piece of craftsmanship."

It was a small wonder the entire world didn't know what happened in the massive villa that stood against the hillside. The kid must have overheard one of the many conversations she'd had with Nicky between drinking herself unconscious and pacing around Jethro's room waiting for him to wake up.

Jenny looked down, watching her step as she placed one foot on the boarding ladder, her eyes caught the gold lettering on the black paint – and she took a step back to look at what was written.

'The Duchess'

"Yes well, it is just a yacht."

She heard Jacques quiet laugh and she looked up at him with a glare, not in the mood to try and figure out what the still teenaged kid found so funny. He sobered up quickly and headed back towards the steering station, quickly getting the message.

Something tugged on her backpack, stopping her from climbing on board. Jenny felt her stomach flip, knowing that if she made any sound they'd most likely kill Jacques as well. She should have know the Russian's would have found the them here. Balling her hand into a fist she grit her teeth, and exercised as much strength into elbowing the bastard in the stomach.

He grabbed her elbow quickly, his grip bruising her exposed skin.

"She, isn't just any yacht, she's a Riva Mega yacht." He whispered in her ear, his stubble tickling her skin. "Mega difference."

Jenny pulled her elbow out of his grip, giving Jethro a dark glare over her shoulder as he smirked at her. Those chips of ice watched her guardedly, trying to see what her reaction would be. Even if she wanted him to come along, now that he was here she couldn't help but wish he'd taken the opportunity to go back to DC and prove that he had no ties to the Russians.

Leaving him on the docks she climbed on board, giving Jacques the all clear that they could head out of port, not caring whether Jethro was on board or not.

Jethro watched her disappear inside the yacht, the self satisfied smirk that he'd scared her still on his face. Shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight he nodded at Jacques to take them out to the open sea. Grabbing onto the railing, the smirk turned into a grin as the young man gunned the yacht for the open water.

Ignoring the pain and the sticky dampness running down his side, he marched inside the large saloon, flinging his backpack on one of the chairs he followed the set of dirty footprints. He'd watched her as she'd slammed the car door shut with force, could hear her voice echo in his ears as she told him that they weren't partners. He'd seen her hesitate for a moment, as if she was reconsidering both her choice of words and her actions, but he should have known better.

For a moment he'd considered taking her up on her offer and leaving for DC – he sure as hell would've had a better shot at figuring out what exactly the Russians had planned. He'd already slid into the driver's seat when he realized he couldn't leave her. Whether it was because he couldn't resist having one last fight with her or because he was dead set on proving her wrong – about what he wasn't exactly sure. He was confused about a lot of thing all of the sudden.

He found her in the master cabin, her hair loose and cascading down her back as she looked at something in her hands. Opening his mouth to bait her, he decided against it – suddenly overcome with pain and unable to find something to give her grief about. Sinking down on the edge of the large bed, pressing a hand against his ribs, he tried to ignore the pain.

"You decide to follow me just so you can tell me again that I fucked up?" Jenny threw over her shoulder as she turned the six diamonds over in her hands. They all varied in size and she didn't really know how they had anything to do with finding the stolen military documents.

"I never said that." Jethro growled as he watched her put the diamonds back in the velvet bag.

"Your eyesight's bad, not your memory." She bit back sarcastically as she tucked her hair behind her ear. Turning around she placed her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow at him as he struggled to get back on his feet. "If you preferred that I leave you there-"

He grabbed her arms, the stormy look in his eyes causing her to trail off. She could see his Adam's apple move as he swallowed, and she couldn't help but mimic his action. She knew that he was as frustrated as she was, at one point she had blamed him as well for the police being after them. Although, it would have happened sooner or later. According to one of Nicky's sources – she was suspected of being a traitor and a wanted murderer.

Jethro watched her intently, seeing her eyes dart from his own down to his throat. Gliding his hands up her arms and over her shoulders, he saw her eyes close fractionally and her pupils dilate. Sliding both hands in her hair he pulled the red strands almost roughly, enjoying it when she gasped with pain and surprise.

"You..." He growled against her lips, "weren't a mistake." He ground his teeth together, "And it wasn't meaningless."

Maybe that was why he'd come after her. Them – together – it meant something to him.

He crashed his lips against hers. He smiled against her lips as she nipped his, forcing him to part his lips and allow her to deepen their kiss. He felt her fingers scrape down his chest as she pulled at the buttons on his shirt.

"Wipe that smirk off you face." Jenny muttered as she looked up at him through her lashes. Pulling his shirt away, her own smile dropped from her face. "You're bleeding." The slight panic in her voice was unmistakeable since all six stitches had torn out of his skin.

Jethro nodded and stepped away from her, heading for the en-suit bathroom. It wasn't long before he heard her scurrying around in the master cabin.

He was pale, his body stiff as he stood in front of the mirror. Blood dripped down his side, a washcloth held in one hand. The rush of water beating the ceramic sides of the basin covered his labored breathing, washing his hands under the cold water – he splashed some of it in his face, trying to wash away the cloud that hung over his thoughts. He jolted when she threw the half closed door open.

Rinsing the washcloth under the rushing water he rinsed the blood out and placed it over the wound he'd been trying to clean before she had barged in. Looking in the mirror he found her right behind him, her tired emerald eyes watching him intently. He let her take the cloth from his hand as she stepped around him. He held his breath as she pressed the cool cloth against his ribs.

"I won't hurt you, even though I actually want to." Jenny muttered as she wiped the blood away.

"Very reassuring." He said hoarsely as he looked down at her. He grinned at her despite the pain when she tried and failed to hide the smile spreading across her lips. She placed her hands on his hips and spun him until he leaned against the vanity top.

Jethro grit his teeth as she dabbed the blood away from the wound. He tried focusing on something other than the pain – running his eyes over her he tried to see if there was any injury she was hiding – he trailed his eyes down her throat right to where her blouse revealed her cleavage and the barest hint of her white bra.

He quickly looked away when she straightened and grabbed the first aid kit that he'd dug out from one of the cabinets.

"You look down my shirt again, I'll shoot you myself." Jenny warned as she placed steri-strips over the open wound. Sticking the last steri-strip over the wound she placed her hands on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under her fingers.

One hand cupped his cheek, stroking his stubble lightly, although it was starting to turn into a beard. Ever since they had landed in Paris the last thing he had been concerned with was shaving. His beard – much like his hair – was a mix of salt and pepper, although it was significantly darker. He looked even more rough around the edges, and his messy hair only added to him looking slightly more unhinged than usual – and for some strange reason she found him even more attractive. Trailing the tips of her fingers over his lips she grinned up at him.

Leaning up she brushed her lips over his – kissing him languidly and enjoying that for once he was at her mercy.

"You ever do that to me again..." She said breathlessly as she pulled away, nipping at his bottom lip playfully, "I'll castrate you and then have you keelhauled."

Jethro gave a pained laugh before resting his hands on her hips, "Yes, Ma'am."

Silence settled around them again – allowing the events of the last seventy-two odd hours sink in. Jethro rolled his shoulders, trying to get rid of the stiffness in his muscles. The pain was subdued as he felt her lips trail over his bare skin, her mouth forming words against his chest that he didn't even want to begin to decipher. Placing his hands on her shoulders he cupped her cheek, making her look at him.

"How did they find us, Jen?" There was no accusation in his voice.

Jenny shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe when you broke their friend's neck." The humor in her voice and the fact that they both could smile at the poorly cracked joke was testament to what they had seen over their twenty years of working for two different federal agencies.

Jethro shook his head, the smirk on his face replaced by a grimace. He looked down at her, his eyes dark with anger and frustration. "No, Jen." He let go of her and moved back into the large bedroom. He grit his teeth as he rummaged through a backpack, looking for a t-shirt.

Pulling a gray t-shirt over his head, he took a seat on the edge of the king sized bed, resting his elbows on his knees so he could catch his breath. He felt her shift around anxiously – more irritated than anxious, he realized. Clearing his throat he watched her pull the crumpled shirt over her head, exchanging it for a t-shirt of her own.

"How did they find us in Marseille?" He saw her eyes flash dangerously, and he was suddenly thankful that he didn't have to work under her everyday – because if she looked at him like that he couldn't be held responsible for his actions. He smirked at the images flashing in his mind – her red hair spread out over her desk, her paperwork long since forgotten scattered on the floor.

"I'm not having this conversation with you again." Jenny snapped at him as she pulled the shirt over head, missing the dazed look in his eyes.

"What?" He licked his lips before shaking his head, "No, Jen, how did they know we were going to be in Marseille – the only person who knew, was Tobias." He frowned slightly, "And McGee." He added as an after thought.

Jenny relaxed, sinking down on the bed next to him. "They have someone on the inside."

Jethro flopped down on his back, his eyes suddenly heavy again, he felt the redhead move around next to him – her body pressing into his side. He let out a soft shuddering breath as one of her hands found their way under his shirt, her nails running over his skin. He didn't even try and fight the goosebumps that broke out over his skin as she breathed in his ear.

"The question," He mumbled sleepily, moving closer to the redhead and resting his head on her chest – the pain medication still heavy in his system, "who is it?"

Thanks for reading, feedback is much appreciated ;)