Summary: A twisted childhood leads one young women to find her comfort in both work and play and Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs becomes her dance partner when she murders a small time drug dealer. The lines between business and pleasure are easily blurred as he studies a woman who would do anything for a thrill and he learns that every action has its consequences. But as they fall deeper into a world of espionage and secrets, Gibbs is the only one who knows how far he can bend the rules and Sarai is forced to question the orders she has always relied upon to survive.
Categories: Gen,
Het,
Abby/McGee,
Other Het Pairings Characters: Abby Sciuto, Anthony DiNozzo, Ari Haswari, Donald Mallard, Faith Coleman, Gerald Jackson, Hollis Mann, Jeanne Benoit, Jenny Shephard, Jimmy Palmer, Kate Todd, La Grenouille, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Michelle Lee, Mike Franks, Original character, Other, T.C. Fornell, Timothy McGee, Ziva David
Genre: Action, Angst, Case, Drama, Established relationship, First Time, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Series
Pairing: Gibbs/Other, Abby/McGee, DiNozzo/Ziva, Gibbs/Jen, Jen/Other, Palmer/Michelle
Warnings: Dark story, Rape, Violence
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 4
Completed: No
Word count: 19582
Read: 8952
Published: 01/04/2010
Updated: 01/04/2010
Story Notes:
Hey, so if you've read my fan-fics before, you know that I am constantly changing them and every now and then one of my stories will go far enough off track hat I have to rename it and start over. This is one of those stories. I have three verions: Lessons/Matchmaker, Suicide Alley, and now Monster. Monster is more focused on the drama than on the case, and I chose to kill off far less of my characters. If you liked the earlier two verions, you'll probably like this one too, although you may find a scene or two that are identical. Please review and send me your feedback, I truly love to hear it, especially if you think I've done something really stupid and annoying. Thanks so much, I hope you enjoy!
1. Mistakes by KatelynGibbs
2. Hell on Earth by KatelynGibbs
3. Paradise by KatelynGibbs
4. Controlled by KatelynGibbs
Author's Notes:
Sarai's upbringing has never been normal, and she herself has never been easy to understand, but after his first run-in with the mysterious child-spy, Gibbs is determined to try.
Jenny’s flaming red hair fanned out on the pillow, hands under her head as she gazed up at the ceiling. The seventeen year old was moving quickly through the college classes for her chosen field, as was her…well, she wasn’t sure what to call him. They were very similar, career oriented and too busy for real relationships, but, of course, they each had needs. Their relationship allowed them to address that without getting too involved in anything. Their plans and lives would not be interrupted by love, of that they were determined. She rolled over onto her side, knowing the movement would wake her Mossad lover. His training was too deeply engrained. “Wake up, Eli.” She murmured. “I can’t be late for my classes and you have a plane to catch.”
“Too bad. I’ve gotten used to America, Israel will not seem so normal anymore.”
Jen laughed. “Just give it time. In a couple of weeks you’ll be wondering how you ever survived here.”
“Well, I’m glad to have been able to spend time with you Jenny.” He replied, kissing her lightly on the cheek.
“Don’t get sentimental on me now, Eli.” She warned. “I’ve got an exam today.”
He laughed too. “There she is. Goodbye, Jenny.”
“Bye Eli.” She watched him get dressed and leave, wondering who she might be able to convince to replace him.
She leaned over the toilet bowl as she vomited, coughing up the last of it. “Damn. Damn! DAMN!!!” She cursed angrily. Birth control wasn’t always effective, she knew that, but why did it have to flunk out on her? She did NOT have time for this. She glared down at the slight bulge that was settled between her hips. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, disgustedly, and strode out to the phone in her small apartment. She dialed hesitantly, then she waited.
“Shalom?”
“Eli?” she asked uncertainly. People really sounded so different over the phone.
“Jenny! Miss me already?” he asked teasingly.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m heartbroken.” She answered sarcastically. “Actually,” her voice became just a little nervous. “I have a problem. I’m pregnant.” She blurted out.
“Oh. I see. What are we going to do?”
“WE aren’t going to do anything. I’m going to handle this. I just thought you had a right to know.”
“Alright, then what are you going to do?”
“Improvise. I’ll figure something out, I just don’t like unexpected changes.”
“They’ll happen a lot in your line of work.”
“I know. Hey, I’m sorry for bothering you.”
“Not at all. Tell me how things turn out, alright?”
“Of course. Bye.”
“Goodbye.” She hung up. What was she going to do? If her numbers were right, the baby would be born right before the next year’s classes. If she could find a way to hide the baby bump until summer, she’d be fine. And then she’d give up the child for adoption. She didn’t need a baby to slow her down right now. But what about her father? He couldn’t know, she decided. She’d just have to avoid visits until after the baby was born. She nodded to herself, briefly. This could work.
Jenny drew her hood farther over her head, bouncing the baby on her hip as the rain came down. Her numbers had been off by about three months, and her daughter had been born, tiny and perfect, on November 20th, 1977. She walked up to the heavy wooden door and took a deep breath before knocking, holding her daughter’s head close to her shoulder as she waited for the door to open.
“Coming!” came the gruff yell from inside. Jenny bit her lip and considered leaving, but before she could decide, the door swung open, and she found herself face to face with her father. The retired Navy commander just looked at her.
“Hello Papí.” She said quietly. “I, uh…I wanted to talk to you.”
“You could have done that on the phone.” He replied, eyes now on his granddaughter.
“I know.” She said nervously. “But I thought…What I mean is…”
He cut her off. “Come in, Jennifer.” He stepped back to let her through. Jenny ducked inside, pushing the wet hood back off her hair. Jasper Sheppard closed the door behind her and led her into the study. Jenny sat down nervously across from her father. It was this devotion to formality that had made her afraid to tell her father about the baby. “May I hold my grandchild?” he asked, perfectly calm. She nodded silently, and carefully passed the bundle over the desk. Jasper adjusted the girl in his arms, reminding Jenny that he had held her as a baby too. “She’s beautiful, Jenny.”
Jenny shifted in her chair, uncomfortably. “I need help Papí.”
“I can see that. Who’s the father? That young Israeli boy you had wrapped around your finger?” she nodded again. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I’d thought about giving her up, but I just can’t do it. All I can think of is that I need to finish my classes, but I have to figure out a way to take care of her. I thought…maybe…you could help me figure something out.” When all else has failed, turn to the people who can do anything. Mom and dad.
“You want my advice?” he asked, not looking up from his granddaughter.
“Yes please.”
“Move back in and leave her with me while you’re at classes. Then, when she’s old enough, either hire a nanny or send her to daycare while you’re out.”
Jenny breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you Papí. I knew you’d have the answer.”
He gestured for her to come around the desk, and she went to pick up her daughter. Jasper handed the baby over and then stood up, hugging his daughter. She turned into him, feeling that childhood safety, and the baby let out a little noise at being squished between her mother and grandfather. “What’s her name?”
“Sarai. Sarai Razi Sheppard.”
“Israeli.” He nodded approvingly.
“It means princess.” Said Jenny. “My princess.”
Jenny was always on the fast track, through school, career, everything. Her daughter never seemed to slow her down. In public, she was business-like and sure, but when she got home to her daughter and father, her entire manner changed. Her life revolved around the daughter that didn’t exist in the outside world. Sarai was picked up from school by María, a young Hispanic woman who looked after the Sheppard family, and none of Jenny’s friends or colleagues knew that she had a daughter. Sarai was raised as a child of Mossad, even though she lived in calm Virginia rather than chaotic Israel. Jasper Sheppard disapproved of this upbringing, and never hesitated to say so. He taught his granddaughter differently, bringing in the values of a by-gone era of chivalry and trust. Her teachers remarked on her intelligence and creativity, but also on the quiet, unchallenging way she took on the world. María stood in for Jenny in parent-teacher conferences, accepting the praise that she received on Sarai’s upbringing. Finally, the day came when Jenny no longer had the faculties to teach Sarai the ways of Mossad. Jenny knelt in front of her daughter, straightening the ten-year-old’s collar. “Why can’t you come with me, Mamá?” she asked.
“Because this is your special trip. Don’t you want to go? You like it the last time we visited.” Explained Jenny.
“Grandperé doesn’t want me to go.” Complained the girl, fidgeting under Jen’s care.
“Who told you that?” asked Jen absently.
“I heard you talking. Grandperé doesn’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Grandperé just doesn’t like that you’re going to follow in your father’s footsteps so soon. Come on, Raz. It’ll be fun, yes?”
Sarai sighed. “I suppose so.”
“Now, remember what I told you, okay? In Israel, you’re name is Areille, got it?”
“Yup.” Answered the girl cheerily. “Sara at school, Sarai Razi at home, and Areille in Israel.”
“Good girl.” Jen glanced her over, sadly, then kissed her forehead, patting her arm. “Go say goodbye to Grandperé.” Sarai turned and rushed off, Jenny staring after her.
“Grandperé?” she called.
“In the study, Razi.” Came the voice. “Come here, I’ve got something for you.” Sarai skipped over to her grandfather and he lifted her up onto his lap. He fastened a sliver Star of David around her throat, knowing that it was her chosen faith. “Be true, Princess.” He said softly. “Your parents are teaching you so much, giving you all the skills you’ll ever need, but you must always remember that they have no use if you’re not being true to yourself.”
“But why will this remind me?” she asked, confused.
“Because faith is the one thing you have to find for yourself.” He petted her hair and then sent her back to her mother. “Have fun, Razi!” he called after her. Sarai nodded to show she’d heard him and took her mother’s hand. The two of them headed out to the car and Jenny drove to the airport.
Sarai whirled, tackling the boy to the ground and pinning him there, hardly exerting any energy. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Michael?” she demanded, angrily, pushing herself off of him. “I could have killed you.”
“Not even you’re that good yet.” Protested Michael, straightening his shirt. He cursed himself for letting down his guard with her, as always. He would always get distracted by…well, by her. Her black hair, hanging low on her back, her dazzling green eyes, and the grace with which she moved, like a dancer on stage. They were both only children, but she held his attention like nothing else, making him lose his train of thought as well as their training sessions. “I was just trying to practice.”
Sarai’s eyes softened as they rested affectionately on her friend. She knew what she did to him, and she wished she could change it, knowing that their feelings would only hurt him in the end. Even as a twelve year old, she knew who she was and what she would become. “You should practice on someone else, Michael. One of these days, I’ll hurt you.” He chose to ignore the double warning in her words, focusing instead on the next thing she said. “Please don’t make me do that.” She pleaded gently.
“Give me a chance, Areille.” He said firmly.
“Maybe another day.”
Two years later, Sarai sat on a tree swing in the Davíd’s backyard, sketching. A little distance away, the two young Davíd girls, Ziva and Tahlia, tumbled around, play fighting. Sarai smiled gently at her half-sisters before going back to her sketch. She’d been in Israel for three years, learning all that her father and Mossad could teach her. She looked up when she felt someone sit down next to her. “What’re you drawing, Lela?” asked Ziva curiously.
“It’s you and Tahlia.” Sarai replied, showing her the picture.
Ziva stared at it, taking in the details. “That’s really good.” She told the older girl.
“You can have it if you want.” Said Sarai, handing the finished sketch over.
The eleven year held onto it, her painted nails dark spots against the paper. “Thank you.” She ran off to show her sister.
Sarai packed up her art supplies and headed into the woods behind the house. She stood in her favourite clearing, running her fingers through her hair. “I know you’re there, Michael.” She said softly. “Come out, I won’t bite.”
He melted out of the trees, handsome and taller than average at fourteen. In the almost three years since she’d arrived, he’d never given up on earning her affections. “No,” he admitted. “But you do have a tendency to attack me.”
“Only because you keep trying to sneak up on me.” She replied evenly, not looking at him.
He sighed in frustration. “You’re going to be leaving in a few months, would it really hurt to give it one try?”
“Yes, it would.” Her voice was soft, a little sad. “Can’t you leave it be?”
“No.” he replied, resolutely. “Not until you give me a shot.”
She turned to face him slowly, stepping close. She pressed her lips against his, holding his head in place, not that he could have moved it anyway, even if he’d wanted to. She pulled away, eyes fluttering open. “Should a fourteen year old girl be able to do that, Michael?” she asked quietly.
He was dazed and white faced, lust an unfamiliar sensation in his young body. “I…I don’t think so.”
She shook her head. “I’m here to train, but not for the same things as you and Ziva and Tahlia.” She murmured, rolling the Hebrew off her tongue as seductively as she could. “You haven’t seen enough of life for us to be a good match. Wait a few years, have a few love affairs, then come back and I’ll think about it.” She glided off into the trees, leaving him, confused, in the clearing.
Eli and his wife, Ivanna, dropped Sarai off at the airport. Ivanna drew the fourteen year old into her embrace, hugging her briefly. “Goodbye, Areille.” She whispered in Hebrew, kissing her on the forehead. “Come and visit, alright?”
“I will Vana.” Sarai murmured back. “Thank you so much, for everything.”
Eli petted Sarai’s hair and smiled, gesturing for her to go. Sarai turned and went through security, rubbing her eyes. She’d spent over three years with her father, and he’d never treated her like a daughter, never acknowledged that his blood ran through her as thickly as Jen’s. She settled herself on the plane and leaned her head back against the seat. About eight hours later, she found herself exiting the plane in the Virginia airport. As she rode the escalator down to the main floor, she craned her neck, looking for María. Her gaze passed over the head of shining red hair and she did a double take. There, in the crowd of people welcoming friends and family, was her mother. Jen had never gone out in Virginia with her daughter, only taking her out of state for excursions. Sarai had long understood that she was Jen’s little secret. She started running as soon as her feet were off the escalator. A path rippled open for the teen, adults casting her an amused or annoyed glance before dismissing her entirely. Jen pulled her close when Sarai reached her, holding back tears.
“Welcome back, Princess.” She murmured into the girl’s hair. She held Sarai away from her for a moment, a hand on her shoulder. “Look at you! All grown up.” She said sadly. Her daughter had grown and changed in the last three years, and now Jen could see just how little Sarai resembled her. Apart from milky skin, a European structure, and those incredible green eyes, Sarai was Israeli through and through. A widow’s peak of blue-black hair crowned her forehead, the rest of the hair hanging down her back like a thick, shimmering curtain. Her body was thin, but solid muscle, proof of the training she’d been receiving, and the dark, bowed lips smiled easily. Jen pulled her into a hug again, and Sarai was completely overwhelmed by this out-pouring of affection. “Come on, Grandperé’s waiting in the car.
“Thank you for coming, Mamá.” Said Sarai softly.
“I wouldn’t have missed it, Razi. You’ve been gone too long.”
Stakeout, Queens New York
She was soft, thought Gibbs, absently. Not like in the mind or in her sympathies. It was just that, although she was a slender woman, there were no sharp angles. Every part of her body transitioned smoothly from one to the next. He had been gazing at her back for the last few hours of today, and several hours a day for about a week previously. It wasn't like there was much else to do undercover. She really was beautiful...
"Gibbs." her voice broke his train of thought. Correction, her voice could be VERY sharp when she wanted it to be. "Stop fantasizing and get over here. We may have something." Damn. How the hell...? She hadn't even turned around.
He walked over to her, glancing out the window. “Nah. Just a drug deal.”
Jen sighed, frustrated. “Doesn’t it bother you to see this? It goes against everything I know to just watch and do nothing.”
“Fine, but you have to explain to the Director why our assignment went bust.”
She turned on him. “How do you detach yourself like this?” she demanded.
He shrugged. “Easy. Practice.”
“Of course.” Smirked Jen. “Your turn on lookout. I’ve got to make a call.” She wandered into the other room. Gibbs sat down at the window, wondering who she was always calling. The calls usually lasted about fifteen minutes, and she made the twice a day, every day, without fail. A boyfriend? He wondered. Or a husband and kids? He shook his head. Jen was in her mid thirties and most definitely not the maternal type. Maybe an elderly parent? That was more possible…
Gibbs sat at the window, watching the drug dealer out of the corner of his eye. He sighed. It did annoy him to let this happen. His eyes left the dealer. Especially at times like this. A young woman strode toward the man on the corner. Everything about her, from her platinum blonde hair down to her hips and below, to her translucent blouse and low-rise jeans, screamed sex. The father in him died a little as she perched herself on the dealers arm, flirtatiously, letting him touch her. He felt like storming the deal and dragging the girl home by her ear, after all, she couldn’t be more than twenty. Suddenly, he caught a flash of metal and heard the report of a gun just as the dealer dropped to the ground, dead instantly. The girl gazed down at him for a moment, then nudged his arm out with her foot, dropping the gun down next to it. For the first time, Gibbs noticed the creamy gloves on her hands, almost invisible against her skin. No fingerprints, no DNA, no evidence. She swung around the corner, and he heard the roar of a powerful engine. The deep blue Acura sped down the street, and as it passed the building, the girl looked up at the window, and smiled. Gibbs felt stiff with…fear? For some reason, he felt like she could see him, like she knew him, and like she knew he’d seen her. And, yes, it made him afraid. The cold efficiency with which she’d shot a man in cold-blood, made him sure that she wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate a witness. Jen stuck her head in through the door. “What the hell was that?” she asked, annoyed. She looked like she’d just woken up.
“Someone just shot that dealer.” Replied Gibbs. He had a sudden suspicion. “Did you have anything to do with this?”
“That,” she replied casually. “Would be illegal.” She turned away, heading back to the bedroom. “Call and tell the Director, I’m going back to sleep.”
Gibbs sighed, annoyed, and dialed the Director. “Director, someone just got shot on our street corner. A drug dealer. I didn’t have a great view from here, but I can tell you that it was a woman, no more than twenty, blonde, probably dyed, about five foot and 120 pounds.”
“Anything else?”
“She drove off in a dark blue Acura, I didn’t get the model.”
“Thanks Gibbs. I’ll send someone in. Stay low.”
As much as he hated it, Gibbs occasionally had to leave his house to go to the store. He was walking through the aisles when he saw her, the woman from Queens. Her hair was now a stunning auburn, but it was hard to mistake the length of it or the body it attached to. She was walking with a young man who was so obviously entranced by her that he had to stifle a laugh. His eyes widened when he heard her voice, a low, musical sound, all silk and honey. The can he was holding fell from his hand into the cart, and while the young man didn’t even bat an eyelash, the woman began to lag behind until she had separated from her escort. She turned to face him, tilting her head to the side, and he was pinned as her misty green eyes met his pale blue ones. He noticed the pronounced widow’s peak, looking like a draped, bronze circlet crown on her forehead and those emerald eyes. He saw no hostility, curiosity, or irritation in those eyes, only recognition, but he wasn’t very comforted by that. “You wonder, don’t you?” she asked softly, the Russian sounding like song as she stepped towards him. “You wonder whether or not you should do your duty to NIS.” She turned to the shelf, picking up a box and looking at it as she continued. “You’ll make the right choice. You are a marine, through and through.” She set the box back on the shelf, switching to French. “Au revoir, Monsieur Gibbs.” She turned around and left, he heard her musical voice speaking to the young man a short distance away. Her words rang in his ears. Au revoir, until next time. And she knew his name, knew his history. You’ll make the right choice. His fingers released the cell phone in his pocket. He still wanted to know who she was, but he would not betray her. Not just yet.
End Notes:
Hey, so if you've read my fan-fics before, you know that I am constantly changing them and every now and then one of my stories will go far enough off track hat I have to rename it and start over. This is one of those stories. I have three verions: Lessons/Matchmaker, Suicide Alley, and now Monster. Monster is more focused on the drama than on the case, and I chose to kill off far less of my characters. If you liked the earlier two verions, you'll probably like this one too, although you may find a scene or two that are identical. Please review and send me your feedback, I truly love to hear it, especially if you think I've done something really stupid and annoying. Thanks so much, I hope you enjoy!
Hell on Earth by KatelynGibbs
Author's Notes:
When Jen's job finds its way back to her father and daughter, Sarai's way of life will never be the same. What used to be a game has become dangerously real and she turns to the very work that destroyed her to build herself back up. But once she begins to bury the past, will she be able to escape the future?
Virginia, Just outside of Quantico.
The group of girls walked down the street, laughing and talking as they made their way home from school. One by one, they waved to their friends and turned down side-streets until only one was left. Sarai shouldered her backpack, pulling a long black ponytail out of the way of the thick shoulder strap, and kept walking. She pulled an MP3 player out of her pocket and stuck her headphones into her ears. She walked along the sidewalk, oblivious to her surroundings as she mouthed along to Everlast. It didn’t take long for her to take a few wrong turns and end up in one of the dingier parts of town. She glanced up, confused, and pulled out the headset, stuffing the whole bundle back into her pocket. She glanced down every street as she passed it, trying to find a familiar name, but to no avail. Suddenly, she became aware of a muffled struggle in a nearby alley. Curiosity overwhelmed her, and she snuck up to the entrance, peeking into the dark alleyway. A tall, dark man was standing over a dying older man, having just stabbed him suicide style. The gasp escaped her before she could stop it. “Grandperé!”
The other man spun around. “Hey!” She didn’t wait around, just kicked off her shoes and ran, her bare feet pounding against the pavement. The backpack fell from her shoulder as she raced down the street, chest heaving as she prayed to make it home safely. Unfortunately, she was lost already, and she wasn’t too concerned with stopping to read the signs anymore. She found herself right back where she had started, tiring quickly. Then her foot her a rock and she rolled to the ground, clutching her ankle. The man, who had been hard on her heels, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into an alley opposite the one where her grandfather lay dead. She tried to struggle, but he had an iron grip and she couldn’t get away. He tore at her clothes and threw her to the ground, half-naked. She knew what would be next, and kicked her leg out at him. His hand shot out and caught the kick, twisting her leg under her. And then it was too late and she was pinned between heat and stone cold. The pain was blinding, her eyes swam, and she saw spots, biting her lip until she tasted blood to keep from screaming. She felt the invasions, and the tearing, and she stayed conscious, wishing, for the first time in her life, for the rising cold of a fainting spell. But she couldn’t make one come. She cried out as her body betrayed her and sobbed quietly, waiting for it all to end. Finally it did, and she breathed a sigh of relief, until she saw the blade. She tried to scream, but he silenced her, pressing his thumb into her throat. Too late, she felt the rising tide of blackness as she fainted against the wall, already having felt the knife slash through her body. She woke to a thin wailing sound, not realizing it was coming from her own lips, and she fought to clear the fogginess from her brain. Her hand brushed against something and she turned. She turned away again just as quickly, throwing up in the corner. Her grandfather lay next to her, dead, his eyes staring straight ahead, a knife in his chest. Sarai put her hand over his heart, praying over the dead man. “Grandperé.” She murmured, sadly. “How could this happen?”
Suddenly, someone appeared in the entrance to the alley, and Sarai flinched. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Said the man gently. “Are you alright?”
Even in her present state, Sarai knew that that was an unnecessary question. “Hospital, quickly.” She murmured, feeling the blackness coming back as she kept bleeding. He nodded and dialed 911.
The next time she woke, there was a doctor standing over her, about to give her anesthesia for surgery. She blacked out again quickly. Suddenly, she was in a tunnel, thousands of smaller tunnels branching off of the major one. She glanced into each one as she passed it, but they were all so dark that she kept going. Finally there was light. Someone stood in front of her, speaking to her, tapping her wounds. She watched, fascinated, as they healed. She was being told she had a purpose in life, that she could still choose to go back. She saw the gates of heaven open in front of her, and walked towards them. The person watched sadly. She stood in between the gates, not in heaven, and not out of it, for a long time, seeing her options, her life if she returned. The lives of the people she touched. And then those same lives if she kept walking. Death, heaven, was a kinder option to her, but these others, they would suffer for her selfishness. She turned around slowly, walking back to the angel, who began smiling. “A gift.” They said, handing her a box. “Open it.” Inside was a small crystal heart. She glanced up, confused. “Like Alice through the Looking Glass. The right thing for the right time. It will always be with you when you need it. It will give you the power to become whatever you need to be at that moment. You must live for the now, because, as you’ve just seen, unexpected things can happen.”
Sarai looked at the angel. “How will I ever just be me?”
“When the time comes for you to do that, you will know.” Came the answer as she walked back through the tunnel. She found herself in darkness again, swirling mists around her, faces, voices, confusion. She put her hands over her ears. “Stop!” Sarai yelled. Then the girl woke up, flinging back the white sheet over her body and finding herself in the hospital morgue. She swung her legs over the edge of the gurney and grabbed some alcohol swabs and dropped them onto the gurney she’d been lying on, searching for anything that would make a spark. Finally, she grabbed a lamp and smashed it over the swabs. Flames sprang up and she raced for the stairs. She stepped out on the main floor, and grabbed a pair of nurses’ greens from a laundry basket. She slipped into a bathroom to change and then slipped out of the hospital, completely unnoticed in the chaos as the fire alarms went off. She arrived home and knocked sharply. María opened the door. “O, gracias Dio!” gasped the woman. “I was so worried!” she scolded in Spanish.
“I’m sorry, María.” Answered Sarai, also in Spanish. “I got really lost, and it took me a while to find a cab.” She headed to the stairs, trudging up them. “I’m going to bed.” Sarai collapsed on her bed, her hands shaking slightly as she curled into a tight ball on top of the covers. She jumped when she heard the knock at the door. “Come in!” she said, fighting to slow her racing heart.
María pushed the door open, holding a small plate. “I brought you some dinner.” She told the girl, sitting down next to her.
“I’m…I’m not hungry.” Sarai curled up tighter.
María glanced down at her, concerned. “Are you feeling alright?” he asked, setting the plate down on the nightstand. Sarai flinched when the woman touched her shoulder, still jumpy. “Sarai, talk to me. What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Muttered Sarai petulantly.
“Too bad.” Replied María sharply. “What really happened to you this afternoon?”
Sarai took a deep, shuddering breath. “Grandperé’s dead.” She said softly. “Murdered. I saw it.”
María let out a stream of violent Spanish that, unfortunately, Sarai understood perfectly. “Are you alright? Do you know who did it? Did they see you?”
“I’m fine.” Lied Sarai. “I don’t know a name, but I could probably describe him. I ran as soon as I realized what was happening. I ran and kept running.” Sarai’s talent for convincing lies was getting a workout as she tried to deflect any concern that might be had for her.
María petted Sarai’s hair soothingly. “You’ll be fine, Mija. I’m going to go call your mother. Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out.”
Sarai buried her face in the pillow as the woman hurried out of the room. Her quiet sobs were absorbed by the fabric as she let out the shame she’d been hiding.
Paris.
The two of them were on another major assignment, only this one was far more dangerous. He hadn’t learned anything new since the last time he’d seen the woman from Queens, chameleon as he called her since she seemed to switch her looks, voice, and personality every time he saw her. He still suspected a connection between the her and his partner, but it was only a feeling. The phone in their little apartment rang, and he picked up, mind still on the chameleon. “Bonjour?”
“Is Jennifer there?” asked a small voice, wavering slightly, thin with fear or something else like it. Gibbs recognized it, even though it was very different, as the voice of the Queens assassin and perked up.
“No, can I take a message?”
“I don’t…No…at least…She said she’d be there.” The voice said, helpless and uncertain. Gibbs wondered why she was so nervous. “No, I’ll just call back later.”
Just then Jen strode into the room. Gibbs hurried to speak. “Hold on, she just came in.” he handed the phone over. “It’s for you.” Then he got up and left the room, listening carefully from the other side of the door. Unfortunately, his effort was wasted. Jen was speaking in Hebrew, a language that Gibbs knew nothing about, nor had he realized that Jen could speak it. He did know about tones though, and Jen’s tones were becoming more and more pained, anxious. He heard her hang up and stepped back into the room. Jen was leaning against the wall, listlessly, her head in her hands. “What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned.
She looked up, anger and pain on her features. “Nothing. I’ve got to go.” She slammed the door on the way out. He sighed. He was never going to figure this out, was he? At least he knew she was connected now. His eyes strayed to an envelope on the window sill. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. A newspaper clipping fell out. He unfolded it and read.
No Progress in Suicide Alley Case, read the headline. Eight days ago, two people were discovered in a Virginia alleyway with extensive stab wounds. NIS has yet to release the identities of the victims, but one of them is rumoured to be the retired Navy commander, Jasper Sheppard. Currently, all that is known is that one victim is an older male, and the other is a teenage girl. The girl was still alive when they were found by Mr. Patrick Hendrickson, a banker. Ambulances showed up in a matter of minutes, but the girl passed away on the operating table. It was originally suggested that these deaths were some sort of suicide pact based on the style of stabbing, but new evidence has come to light that the two were murdered. No information is known about who the girl might be or where she came from.
He frowned, recognizing Jen’s father’s name. If her father was dead, surely that meant something, and perhaps the Queens assassin had realized too late who her victim was. No, that didn’t make sense, but what else was there? She could be the Jane Doe, except the Jane Doe was a child, and there was no way any teenager could kill with that much skill and cold-bloodedness. He sighed with frustration and put the article back in its envelope, not noticing the loose scrawl on the other side of it. "Razi can’t remember.-
Jen hurried straight to the hospital from the airport, asking after her daughter’s room. She strode down the hallways until she came to the door, then she froze. Another woman, dark and beautiful, sat next to the sixteen year old’s sleeping form. She bit her lip and pushed aside the sliding door, stepping into the room. The other woman looked up. “I’m glad you could make it, Jennifer.” She said, her Israeli accent dramatically altering the English.
“Call me Jen.” Replied the red-head. “Nothing could have kept me away. Is she alright?” Jen sat down next to Sarai, her hand reaching out and taking the teenager’s.
“She’s doing better. The miscarriage took a lot out of her, and she still has nightmares sometimes, they say, but when she’s awake, you wouldn’t know anything had happened.” Ivanna sighed. “You don’t have to be so nervous around me, Jen. I’m not the jealous type, and, to be honest, I admire you for how well you’ve managed all these years. She’s a wonderful girl.”
Jen smiled. “Thank you Ivanna. I admire you as well. And I owe you a lot.” She bit her lip again, eyes on her daughter. “I feel helpless. This is all my fault.”
“It is not!” replied Ivanna sharply. “You stumbled across something, that’s all. You couldn’t have known this would happen.”
“He killed my father, and raped and stabbed my daughter.” Swore Jen passionately. “I could have done something if I’d ever been there for them. I...I could have been there.”
“Stop blaming yourself!”
“You’ve never come so close to losing a daughter, Ivanna! Your girls are so much safer than my baby. They have all of Mossad looking after them. All Sarai has is me, and I’m gone so much.”
“She doesn’t blame you, so neither should…”
A small sound interrupted the two women. Sarai was awaking slowly. Her eyes fluttered open, glancing over and doing a double take. “Mamá!” she gasped, sitting up quickly. She threw her arms around Jen’s neck. “Oh, Mamá, you came! I missed you, so much.”
Jen hugged her daughter, struggling with her tears. “I’m not going to leave again, Raz, I promise. I’ll stay with you.”
“No! What you do, it’s so important.”
“Nothing is more important than you, Sarai.” Replied Jen, wrathfully. “And I swear, I’ll find who did this to you.”
Ivanna looked on, smiling at the mother-daughter reunion. “We already know who did it, dear. And he’s not going to go unpunished. I should go, the girls will be getting home soon, and I should be there when they do.”
“Thank you, Ivanna.” Whispered Jen. Sarai waved goodbye to her step-mother, then turned back to Jen. “I’m here to take you back to Virginia, Raz. The nurses say you’re ready to go home. Are you ready?”
Sarai nodded. “I’ll be ready to go in a few minutes.”
“Alright. I’ll be waiting just out in the lobby.” She kissed the girl’s forehead and stepped out, maternal instincts raging inside her.
Jen was perched in a tree, waiting, when Jacob Tehran appeared. Eli Davíd had sent the operative out to Virginia on a false assignment. Jen aimed her gun at his stomach and fired. Jacob fell to the ground, writhing in pain, and Jen leaped to the ground, standing over him. “You should not have touched my daughter.” She said coldly. “That was a mistake.”
“You shouldn’t have tried to look into our activities.” He gasped back, fading fast.
“I really don’t give a damn about that anymore. I just care that you hurt my little girl, and for that, you’ll pay.” She leveled her weapon at him and the gun spat out four rounds, one in each arm and leg. Jen had no pity for the man, only a desire to torture him to death. As it was, she could see the life-light leaving his eyes so she took aim one last time. “Burn in hell, you son of a bitch!” she spat, and fired a round through his forehead. His eyes glazed over instantly and she kicked him in the head, vindictively. “May you be judged for who you truly are.” She murmured and kicked his body into a nearby ditch. She stuck a match and dropped it on his body, walking away from the funeral pyre, unrepentant.
Sarai stood in the cemetery, watching as an American flag was draped over her grandfather’s casket. The anonymity afforded to her by a Muslim woman’s heavy black veil was the only reason she was here. She touched the necklace at her throat, choking back tears. She saw her mother standing near the front of the grieving crowd, her face drawn and pale. Sarai stepped carefully through the graves as the men and women around her grandfather’s grave dispersed. She pulled a single Stainless Steel rose, it’s delicate lavender centre fading into pure white, from her wrap and dropped it onto the freshly dug earth as she passed. “Rest easy Grandperé.” She murmured. “I’ll never forget you.” And with that, she disappeared into the dusk, heading for home.
When she reached the Virginia house, María opened the door, drawing Sarai inside. The girl threw back her veil sadly, and María didn’t have the heart to scold her for sneaking out. “Don’t go into the study, Mija.” Murmured the young Hispanic. “There is a gentleman there for Señorita Jennifer.”
“Okay, María. I won’t get you into any more trouble today.” Answered Sarai in quiet Spanish. “I just wanted to go up to my room anyway.”
Jenny hung up her coat as she stepped inside, sighing wearily. “There’s someone here to see you, Señorita.” María poked her head out of the kitchen. “Perhaps you would like to invite him to stay for dinner? It will be ready soon.” Said the woman in gentle Spanish.
“No thanks, María.” Replied Jen. “I’m not in the mood for guests. I’ll deal with it.” She headed into the study and wasn’t too surprised to find Gibbs sitting across from her father’s chair. “What are you doing here, Jethro?” she asked softly.
“I just came to offer my sympathies.” He replied calmly.
“And to see if I would take you back? No, Jethro, I’ve got bigger things to deal with right now.”
“Like what? Work? That never stopped you before.” They both flashed back to the long nights in Paris.
“Not work, other things. Thank you for the visit, but I must ask you to leave.”
Gibbs got up and stepped right up to her. “I am sorry for your loss, Jen.” He murmured, then he left the room, grabbing his coat as he left. Jenny watched him go, without regret, but neither of them noticed the young girl’s face at the top of the stairs. Sarai watched with curiosity as Gibbs left her house. She felt a faint, unfamiliar twist in her stomach as she observed, for the first time, the rugged good looks of the NIS agent. She curbed the attraction as she realized what she was feeling, knowing that it wasn’t wise, but the path of events had already been set in motion.
Sarai perched herself provocatively on the stair rails, waiting for her target to show up, her black hair shorter than she was used to since her rape. She’d lopped it off in an attempt to forget, attempt being the key word. She felt eyes on her and turned her head a scant inch, the watching becoming the watched. She knew she looked like a prostitute, and she’d expected to have to ward off ‘clients’. What she hadn’t expected was to be burned. Familiar hands settled on her hips and a voice breathed in her ear, making her shiver. “I liked your hair long, Ice Queen. And dark.” Whispered Michael, dragging his fingers through her blonde locks.
She leaned her head back on his shoulder, looking up at him, her green eyes laughing with a hint of annoyance. “You took my advice?” She asked, keeping her voice low and seductive. The average person on the street didn’t want to listen to pillow talk. “What the hell are you doing in this part of the world, Michael?”
“I’m in favour.” He replied easily. “I get the fun jobs.”
“You’re seventeen.”
He shrugged, brushing his fingers along her sides. “So it was this or the service, forgive me for the choice.”
She smiled, slipping her hand up into his hair. “You grew it out.” She observed, enjoying the soft texture. “I like it better this way.”
“I figured you would.” He smirked. “So, what do you say?”
She sighed, dropping her hand to her side. “I’m working, Michael. I don’t do freebies.”
He nodded, recognizing the change in task. Her eyes were sharper, her muscles coiled, and he knew that whoever she was here to find had just appeared. He pitied the man what little of life he had left. Michael nodded and dropped his mouth to hers briefly, holding his own against her lips. “Maybe later.” He said huskily, striding away. But Sarai knew he wouldn’t be far, waiting either to assist her or for her to finish so they could talk more.
She smiled flirtatiously at the man who approached her, his eyes lingering more on her body than her face, which was probably a mistake on his part. “Hey.” She murmured, sliding off the rail.
He looked her over, carefully, and she tipped her chin up proudly under his gaze. Her cover was that of a whore, but not a cheap one. She was dressed to seduce, not sell. “You busy?” he asked gruffly, a packet of bills peeking out of his jacket pocket before vanishing again.
She took note of the numbers on the bills and the expensive clothes then moved gracefully to perch herself on his arm. “No.” she replied, guiding him up the apartment steps. She closed and locked the door behind them and stepped up to him, pulling the peasant blouse over her head. She pushed him up against the wall, letting him slide her bra straps down her shoulders. She felt his arms coil around her narrow waist, fingers climbing up her spine to unclasp her bra. He froze, and his eyes flashed open, but it was too late. The cold metal knife he’d felt under his fingertips was at his throat. Sarai jerked the knife forward, grazing her own neck with the edge. He crumpled and she unlocked herself from his arms as he fell, stepping away from the body. She slipped back into her top and waited a half an hour before leaving, striding calmly down the street.
Michael fell into step with her at the corner. “Why’d you get set on the poor bastard?” he asked in Hebrew.
“He belongs to a terrorist group from the Gaza Strip and he has a weakness for women.” Replied Sarai, the Hebrew sounding sharp to her ears, now used to the softer intonations of English. “What are you doing here, Michael?” she asked again.
“Looking for you.” Her stride faltered, but only for a second. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you since my father died.”
Now she did stop walking, yanking him into a dark walkway between buildings. “If you’re here to tell me how sorry you are, et cetera, so help me God…” she hissed, her eyes flinty.
“I’m here to tell you that I’m the one who turned him in.” he interrupted. “I found some papers in his desk, and when I realized what they were, I went to the Director. I as good as killed my own father.” There was both pain and fury in his voice, and her eyes softened.
“It’s not your fault, Michael. It…If…If it helps any, it was a mistake.” She told him timidly. “Things were never supposed to turn out that way.”
“It doesn’t help.” Growled Michael, pulling her close to him. “My own father, and I didn’t see it. Didn’t see that he was a traitor and worse, that he would…hurt anyone like that. But especially you, Areille.”
Sarai closed her eyes, curling her fingers into his arms. “It takes more than a rogue operative to take me down. I’ve had better training than that.” Damn right she had, combat training, languages, stealth, survival, weapons, and intel gathering, ever since she was six years old. But even at fifteen, almost sixteen, she hadn’t been quite a match for a full grown rogue operative. She’d made sure she would be since then, though. No one would beat her now, she was sure of it. She wouldn’t let it happen. She wouldn’t ever fall prey to the terror that still ate at her when she wasn’t careful. She couldn’t. “I’m the best.” She said out loud, more needing to convince herself than anyone else.
“You always were.” He agreed. “ And I’ve still got the scars to prove it.” She laughed quietly, the tension lightening as she remembered their lessons together. “So, about my following your advice…” he hinted, hopefully.
Sarai’s smile faded. “I don’t have much time for a personal life. And you’re going places. I’m not. No reason to hold yourself back.”
He frowned, annoyed. “Are you always going to be like this Areille?” he demanded. “Always holding back, never letting yourself get close to anyone?”
Unbidden, her mind flew to the handsome NIS agent that she knew was trying to figure her out. She shut down that thought, resteeling her heart. “Yes.” she replied coolly.
“Did you ever care, or were you just playing?”
“I care about you the same way I care about Tali and Ziv.” She sighed, kissing his cheek. “I would give my life for any one of you and I will love you until the day I die, but as a brother. Falling in love simply isn’t in the cards for me. Not with you, not with anyone.” Michael looked disappointed, but he nodded and they continued down the road together. Little did Sarai know, as she laughed and chatted with her old friend, that love would hit her sooner than she could imagine.
End Notes:
Up to this point, I know it's been pretty much the same as the others. I am fairly content with the way the story goes up until chapter three. Please stick with me just a little longer, it does get better.
Author's Notes:
What starts as an assignment fling becomes a little more intense as Gibbs challenges Sarai's view of the world. He offers her a way out and a chance to make her own way, and she wants more than anything to take it.
Silvery blonde hair fanned out under the twenty year old’s head, the sheets wrapped tightly around her. She felt bare without her silver necklace, but she couldn’t afford to wear it right now. She sighed, climbing out of bed and slid a nightdress over her body, stepping out onto the balcony of her small apartment. She gazed out at the Russian skyline, knowing that, somewhere nearby, the three agents she was tailing were restless as well, though perhaps for different reasons. She shivered as a breeze sprang up, sending her hair dancing around her face. She grabbed her phone, tucking it under her ear as she waited for the other line to be picked up.
“Yes?”
“He’s suspicious.” She spoke the Russian as easily as her other languages. “Only him. Your other partner is excellent, but he still needs work.”
“I already knew that.” Sighed Jen.
“Yes, well, what you didn’t know is that I’m not the only one tailing you. A blonde, definitely not one of ours. Careful with her, she’s got the swagger of a good operative. There’s one for each of you, one woman, two men, and they’re well armed.”
Jen was quiet for a moment. “Thank you. That’s all I needed to know.”
“I’m staying low for a while. If he’s too focused on me, he won’t be aiming his bullets where they need to be going.” She smirked. “And I happen to be a blonde also. Good luck.”
Jen hung up the phone, setting it back on its hook. She turned to face the two men she was working with, leaning against the small table. “We’re being followed.” She declared.
“I already knew that, Jen.” Said Gibbs, not looking up from the card game in between him and the youngest agent. “She’s slipping.”
“Let it go, Jethro.” She sighed, muttering under her breath. “Slipping my ass, I swear, the girl wants to be seen.”
“What?” he asked, curiously.
“Nothing. Three agents. One female, two male. A perfect match.”
“Or so they think.” Chuckled Callen.
“If she’s involved, we’re out-numbered.” Warned Gibbs, finally setting down his cards and looking up. He swore when Callen, the youngest of the three agents, trumped his hand.
“Who?” asked Callen.
“Jen’s assassin friend.” Replied Gibbs, provocatively.
“Oh, go screw yourself.” Bristled the woman.
“Jen’s friends with a lady assassin?” The young man perked up. Maybe the group leader was more interesting than she appeared.
“Don’t listen to a word he says, Callen, he’s just trying to annoy me.” Jen sat down at the small table. “Deal me in.”
“Alright, if she’d not the one tailing us, what the hell is she doing here?”
“Joint assignment?” Offered Callen.
“She’s an assassin.” Protested Gibbs. “Since when has NCIS ever worked with the CIA?”
“Let it go, you’re obsessing over something that’s out of your control.”
A grim smile flitted across Sarai’s face as she felt Gibbs catching up to her. “May I help you?” She asked sweetly.
Gibbs shrugged as they walked alongside each other, replying with almost as much ease as her despite Russian being his weakest language. “I’ve been seeing you around town lately. You seem familiar somehow.”
She laughed. “I’m flattered that you would remember me after six years. You have quite a memory.”
“So you are following us.” He said lightly, not wanting the people around them to start listening in.
“No, I’m simply here to enjoy myself.” She replied, flashing another smile. “All pleasure, no business.”
“Oh?” he cast an appraising glance over her, noting the simple elegance with which she was dressed.
“Wrong pleasure.” Laughed Sarai, tucking a lock of hair back into place. “Sight-seeing.” She gestured to the bustling world around them.
“You’ve got your sights, I’ve got mine.” He replied easily. “What have you been up to?”
“Absolutely nothing.” It was somewhat true after all. She had spent much of the last four years either training or goofing off on assignment, just for the sake of rebellion. “I’ve been visiting family you see.”
“I never pegged you as sentimental.” He told her thoughtfully.
“And I didn’t peg you as the kind to flirt with a woman whose name you don’t know.” She teased.
“I figured you’d tell me when you felt like it.” He said, perfectly content. They’d stopped walking and were lingering outside one of Russia’s beautiful palaces, throngs of tourists pushing past them and completely ignoring the odd couple. “Am I right?”
“Perhaps you are.” She agreed thoughtfully. “But would you believe me if I told you?”
“Only one way to find out.”
“Razi.” She said quietly. “My name is Razi.”
“It suits you.” He told her in the same tone.
Sarai nodded. “More than you can imagine.” She agreed.
“You look really nice today Raz.” His low voice sent shivers up her spine and suddenly she couldn’t speak. Gibbs brushed his fingers along her cheek. She trembled under the touch, her stomach twisting with an unfamiliar emotion. “You always look beautiful.”
“You’ve only seen me twice before.” She murmured, eyes slightly glazed. “How would you know about always?”
“Maybe I don’t, but that doesn’t change my opinion.” Jesus, what was happening to her? She’d always been good at flirting, so why was her throat dry and her mind empty? He smiled, eyes sparkling with laughter at the delicate ripples that ran through her body from his simply touching her cheek. “You want to go inside?” he asked, brushing her hair back.
“Huh?” she was feeling a little dizzy and wasn’t sure what he was talking about.
He laughed. “Sight-seeing, remember?” Gibbs led her inside, and they wandered around with the rest of the tourists, his arm sitting loosely around her waist.
Gibbs wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, but it felt comfortable and right at least. He glanced down at the young woman next to him who was subconsciously leaning into him, and realized that whatever was making him do this, it was probably a bad idea. She seemed to feel his eyes on her and looked up. When she saw him watching her, she smiled, and it was sweet and innocent, and he had to smile back. He always seemed to end up in relationships while on assignment, and they never lasted once he was back in DC. The parting usually came as a relief for everyone involved, and very rarely caused any harm as long as he didn’t marry his lover. She’d gone back to staring in awe at everything around them, from the domes high over their heads to the tapestries and paintings on the walls. Gibbs stifled a laugh. She was like a kid in a candy shop here, and he found it quite amusing.
Sarai tried to take everything in at once, glad she’d used the sight-seeing excuse. As much as she traveled the world, she didn’t usually get to see the places she was visiting, and Moscow was incredible. She could hardly contain her excitement and the familiarity with which they walked told her that she didn’t really have to. She felt him bury his face in her hair for a second and her smile grew. Perhaps this was a relationship she could indulge in. Sure it would end with the assignment, but that was probably for the best. And she already knew that love affairs were Gibbs’s specialty; short, sweet, and fun. So why not? She let herself relax into him, her head resting near his heart, and smiled up at him again. And there was something in his eyes that told her that his mind was traveling down similar channels to hers. She looked up at him thoughtfully. “What are you thinking Agent Gibbs?” she asked softly, reaching up to touch the stress-lightened hair at his temples. “Because you have a choice to make right now, what’ll it be?”
“Well, I guess that depends.” He replied carefully. “What are my options?”
“I’ve got an apartment a few streets over.” She told him. “You know what I am, what I do. You can come home with me, you can walk away like this never happened, or you can make that call to your Director and tell him you’re bringing home a killer. It’s your call.”
She lay on top of him with her head resting on his chest, breathing heavily. “I like your choice, Agent Gibbs.” She purred, her body still sated and full from his caresses.
“Jethro.” He corrected, pressing his lips to her throat. “If I get to call you by your first name, you get to call me by mine.”
“Your first name is Leroy.” She laughed.
“But I go by Jethro.” He pointed out. Gibbs slid his hands up her back and into her hair, dragging her mouth down to his.
Their lips moved together languidly for a while and she moaned as he responded, still buried deep in her core. “Don’t you ever get tired?” she breathed as he rolled her underneath him again.
“You already know I’m a marine.” He murmured huskily. “Marine’s don’t get tired.”
“So I’m learning.” She gasped, beginning to react to his well-placed touches. “But I will, eventually. I am no marine, I’m just a killer, remember?”
“No.” he shook his head, lips brushing across her collarbone. “No, you’re not. Assassins do their homework, but they don’t have the kind of resources you had to have to track me Raz. Nor do they trail someone for six weeks without making a move.”
“I told you, I’m not....”
“Save it.” He was working her body at the same time as he was working her mind, and she couldn’t believe how hard it was to think with every nerve in her body screaming at his touches. She could tell it was difficult for him too, but somehow he managed to stay in control while she fought for the ability to breathe. “You may be a killer, but that’s not all you are.” She was panting too hard to speak now, and he moved his hand up to her cheek slowly, tipping her head back so that her throat was exposed and vulnerable to him. “I know a spook when I see one Razi and you’re a damn good one. I respect that, but I have a question, and I want the truth. Who do you work for? CIA? KGB? Who?”
“I work for no agency.” She gasped out, pleasure making her body move involuntarily underneath him. “Please, I can’t....” But she couldn’t find the words to finish the sentence, and suddenly her brain shut down.
“Let yourself go.” She heard his voice, low and beautiful through the blackness, and obeyed instinctively, desperate for something to guide her. “Good girl.” His lips brushed her cheek as he spoke and he ran a finger along her neck. “Finish for us.” He ordered gently. She reached down, trembling fingers fluttering around their connected bodies, and his lips curved into a smile against her skin. “You’ve been well-trained by someone, haven’t you baby girl?”
“Jethro....” she whimpered, lips parted with soft desperation. She cried out when he gave one last thrust, biting down on the taut skin of her throat at the same time. Shudders rolled through her whole body and she arched into him, panting desperately. He collapsed on top of her, groaning at her delighted sigh as she accepted his pleasure into her body. He rolled off of her this time, pulling her close so that she could rest her head on his chest. “You should be an interrogator.” She laughed shakily, curling into him tightly.
“I am.” He reminded her, kissing the top of her head softly. “And I’ve still got questions.”
“No way.” She said firmly. “You know more than enough as it is.” His hand drifted down to her still-aching sex, and she looked up at him wildly. “You wouldn’t.” She whispered, not at all sure that was true.
“Try me.” He retorted, his expression unreadable, even to her. “My questions?”
“I’ll do my best.” She agreed quickly.
“You work freelance?”
She shook her head. “Family business. Sometimes I go out on loan though.”
“So it’s money, then.” Sighed Gibbs. He couldn’t respect someone who’s loyalty was for sale.
Sarai pushed away from him, horrified. “No!” she exclaimed. “No! I am not some weapon, bought and paid for! I serve my country, just like you. I am an off-the-books last resort, that’s all.”
He smiled in relief, dragging her back to him and kissing her softly. She surrendered her control to him and let him fold her up in his arms. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” He soothed. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”
“This is sex, Jethro.” She reminded him gently. “We don’t need to understand each other, just the circumstances. I know that you’re a good man with a job that suits you, and you know that I’m a spy and a killer. That’s all we need to know. If we get any more personal than that, we run the risk of getting attached in some way.”
“I can’t do that Razi.” He told her quietly. “I can’t make love to you and walk away like it means nothing. Even if it is just sex, it means something.”
She gazed at him for a second then got up and slid her nightdress back over her head, setting his clothes back on the bed. “Then go home.” She replied. Her voice was cool, but there was something in her eyes that told him she was intrigued by his statement.
Her eyes followed the flex of his muscles as he got out of bed and pulled on his jeans, then they widened with surprise when he stepped up to her, forcing her back against the wall. She swallowed, fear flashing in her eyes before she masked it and became her own, confident self again, but not before he saw it. “That would be walking away.” He pointed out. “I think you want me to walk away like you mean nothing. I think you want to be used and discarded. You don’t know what to do with the idea that you might be worth something to someone.” She raised her chin defiantly, but again her eyes gave away her pain at his words. “Why would a girl like you get involved in this life, even if it is a family business, without a reason?”
“I’m a woman, not a child.” She said, uncertain and evasive.
“That’s true.” He conceded, pressing his palm to her cheek and kissing her softly. “But you still must have a reason. I do, my partners do, everyone I know in this business has a reason. What’s yours?”
She bit her lip and pulled open the drawer to the nightstand beside them, taking out a small velvet box and handing it to him. She watched while he opened it and he glanced down at her sharply. “If you tell me that you’re doing God’s work....” He warned, but she cut him off.
“It’s not the faith, it’s the man who gave the gift.” She explained. He felt his heart sink inexplicably at this mention of another man that meant so much to her. “He never wanted this for me, tried to take me away from it every day, but I was too young and too caught up in it all to realize the favour he was doing me. He gave me this right before I left Quantico to train and told me that I had to stay true to myself and this would remind me because faith was the one thing no one else could decide for me. I didn’t understand at all, and I didn’t see him again for over three years. When I came back, I was someone else entirely, and I could tell he was disappointed in me. I got so mad that he wanted me to deny my heritage, he wanted me to be a teacher, for God’s sake! We grew apart, and then, about a year later, he was dead.”
“He die LOD?” asked Gibbs gently, knowing that she hadn’t spoken to anybody about this in a while.
She shook her head. “Murdered. By an intelligence cell. He was a good man and didn’t deserve to die, but certainly he shouldn’t have died like that.”
“You loved him.”
“Very much.” She agreed sadly, than glanced up. “But not like that. He helped raise me. Grandperé gave me this necklace.” She clarified for him. “So now you know. You’ve gotten what you wanted, as I suspect you always do. Are you happy?”
“I’m glad you trust me.” He corrected. “But I’m sorry you hurt so much. You don’t have to punish yourself for his death you know, I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to.” His hands settled on her hips and he tipped his forehead down to hers, feeling her breaths come a little faster as his heady scent filled her mind. “Maybe this is just sex, but I’m damned if I let you use me to punish yourself. Every life matters, Razi, including yours. Let me prove that to you.”
“Okay.” She breathed, confusion in her eyes.
“Good.” He let go of her, pulling his shirt back over his head as he moved away. Hurt flashed across her face and he laughed. “I’m coming back, baby girl.” He promised, touching his finger to her lips. “But I’ve got to get back to my partners before they give me up for dead. I’ll be back as soon as I can, alright?”
She nodded and he slipped into his coat, pulling her in for one last kiss. Sarai flattened her hands against his chest, pushing him back gently. “Go.” She murmured. “I’m staying low for a while, you made me too easily, and it might take the others a little longer, but they’ll figure it out eventually. I’ll be here.” Her phone started ringing shrilly, and she winced, turning her emerald eyes to the buzzing cell resignedly and then back to him. “Go now. You can’t be here when I pick that up.” She warned him. He turned and strode out of the apartment quickly, but he paused for a moment just outside the door, listening. His expression became grim when he heard her soft voice. “Shalom Eli.” He started walking again, having heard enough to tell him what he’d been wondering. His new lover was a Mossad ghost.
“Where’ve you been?” asked Jen suspiciously. “You look like you’ve just won the lottery.”
“Or got laid.” Added Callen, looking up from his cards. “He’s been coming back like that for a couple of months now. You’d better hope the girlfriend’s not getting too involved, man, we’re going home soon.”
“Go to hell G.” Said Gibbs good-naturedly, grinning as he sat down at the table.
Callen dealt him in, ignoring the advice. “So what’s she look like, your mystery girl? Gotta be something else to make you look like that.”
“Like the Hunchback of Notre Dame.” Joked Gibbs. “Only half as pretty.”
“You ever going to let us see her?”
“Probably isn’t a her, Callen.” Said Jen, eyebrows raised. “Got a special reason for leaving the corps, Jethro?”
Gibbs glowered at her, throwing back the answer that would most irritate her. “I’d promised my wife I wouldn’t reenlist.” That shut her up. “Anyway, girlfriend and I have a deal.”
“You, of all people, are having an affair?” Callen didn’t bother to hide his surprise.
“Nah, Shannon’s long gone.” Replied the older agent. Jen was still pale and silent, not sure that ‘long gone’ covered the time four years ago when she’d been sleeping with him. It did, but he didn’t intend to tell her that.
“Oh. So what’s the deal?”
“Men!” growled Jen, stalking out of the room and slamming the door behind her.
The two men ignored her outburst, and kept playing. “Better drop that seven heart.” Advised Gibbs, leaving Callen to wonder how he always knew these things.
Gibbs sat at the little table in Sarai’s apartment, gazing thoughtfully at the coffee in his hand. He glanced over at the bed where she lay, fast asleep, and took a sip from his cup, glad she made black coffee. It helped him think, and right now, thinking was exactly what he needed to do. He’d done some more listening over the last few months, pretending to be asleep while she was on the phone, and while he didn’t understand what she said, he could read her tones. Whoever she was talking to was frustrating her to no end, and she would forgive them only to get annoyed again the next time she called. He had yet to confront her about the phone calls, but he had a feeling she already knew he’d been listening. At the moment, though, that wasn’t what worried him. His goal in all this had at first been to have a little fun with the more than willing Israeli spy, then it had changed to helping a young woman stop punishing herself for something in her past, but now he knew it wasn’t either of those. He hadn’t felt this way about a woman in a long time, and it scared him a little. He’d remarried once since Shannon’s death, but that had fizzled out quickly and somehow this felt different. He wasn’t sure what he should do. The two of them had agreed long ago that what they were doing was sex, nothing more, but it wasn’t like that for him anymore. He smiled grimly as a thought crossed his mind. This was what it felt like to be on the other side of the coin, in love with someone you knew didn’t love you back. He froze. Had he really just used the words ‘in love with’? Even in his own private thoughts? No, he couldn’t think that way, because it was a surefire way to get crushed again. Maybe he loved her, but he wasn’t in love with her. Normal love could fade with time, being in love with someone was forever. He’d never be in love with anyone again, it wasn’t worth the pain when things fell apart. He glanced up in surprise when small hands slipped over his shoulders from behind, he hadn’t realized that she’d woken up. “Hey, Raz.” He murmured as she sat down in his lap, running her hands over his chest.
“I’m going home soon.” She told him quietly.
“To Israel?” He asked, figuring he might as well get some answers if she already knew about his eavesdropping.
“Yeah.” She gazed at him with sad green eyes. “To Israel. How long have you known?”
“I suspected that first day, but knowing for sure?” He shrugged. “A few weeks in. When do you leave?”
“Same time as you, probably. I’ve been gone so long.” She murmured absently. “My little sisters are women now, all grown up, and our friends are all following in their parents’ footsteps, just like we are. It’s going to feel so strange being back there.”
He petted her hair comfortingly. “Home is still home.” He pointed out, feeling a little disappointed by the knowledge that he was running short on time. “It won’t take long to readjust. Is there anything waiting for you when you get back?”
“Um, yeah, yeah, I’ll be staying with my sister until I can get an apartment, and I’ve got work already.”
“Good. I’m glad.” He was suddenly hyperaware of the tension crackling in the air around them and by the embarrassment in her eyes, so was she.
“Jethro...,” She began hesitantly. She stopped for a second and took a deep breath before starting again. “I was wondering if you’d like....I mean, maybe....Would you want to come with me?”
He stared at her in disbelief. Would he want to go with her? Of course. But could he go with her, that was a question he wasn’t sure he had the answer to. Every moment of silence made the hopeful light in her eyes fade a little more and he made himself speak. “I don’t think I can Razi.” He said slowly. “I’ve got a life waiting for me in DC, I can’t just leave it behind.” Too late, he realized that she might take this to mean he had someone waiting for him as well.
“Oh, okay.” She moved to get up, keeping her face carefully blank, but he held her in place.
Gibbs leaned in to kiss her gently and she kissed him back, relaxing into him as always. “I’d like to, but I don’t think I can, baby girl.” He clarified.
She still avoided his eyes when she pulled back, and he knew she was ashamed of putting herself forward the way she had. He wished he could make her understand, but telling her he might or might not be in love with her would only hurt her more in the end. “Sorry, it was just a thought. Forget about it.”
“Never apologize.”
She smiled sadly. “It’s a sign of weakness.” She finished. “I know.”
“I should probably head out soon Razi.” He said, trying to change the subject. “We’re trying to wrap things up so we can go home in the next couple of weeks.”
“I know.” She repeated, moving to get up again, and this time he let her go.
“I keep forgetting that you know everything.” He laughed, watching her robe fall to the floor as she got dressed. His eyes widened when he saw the weapons she was strapping on before pulling on her jeans and blouse. “Expecting trouble?”
“I’ve been in Moscow for over four months.” She replied grimly. “It’s about damn time I did something, don’t you think? And if you three are heading home soon, it’s almost time for my debut. I’d tell you to stay away the next time you see me out of this apartment, but I don’t think you’d listen.”
“No, I wouldn’t. So you’re here to help us then?”
“Always was.” She agreed. “But after this assignment, I think I’m going to stay in Israel. I miss my family.”
“You’re very sentimental for a spy, you know that?” he chuckled, walking over and picking up one of her knives.
He turned the knife over in his hand, watching the light hit the blade, and she glanced at him curiously. “It changes things when you see it for yourself, doesn’t it?” she asked quietly. “The fact is, I am a killer, it’s what I was trained for, it’s what my sisters have been trained for, what most Israeli children learn to be at some point. But it’s one thing for you to know that, and another entirely for you to see the proof right in front of you. Will I still see you tonight?”
“Of course.” He replied promptly. “You don’t scare me, Raz.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Then you’re not as smart as I thought you were.” She teased. “You’d do well to be a little scared. I’m dangerous, even to you.”
“Nah, you wouldn’t shoot me.” He said confidently.
“Maybe not on purpose.” She muttered, just loud enough for him to hear, and he grabbed her around the waist.
“What was that?” he growled playfully.
Sarai turned her head to capture his mouth casually. “Nothing at all, sir.” She purred against his lips. “Now go play soldier, I’ll see you again soon enough.” He kissed her cheek and left.
She sat down on the edge of the bed, exhaustion replacing her playful expression. What was happening to her? It wasn’t like her to stop thinking like that. Why had she asked him to come with her? They’d agreed that this would be something that ceased to exist as soon as they parted ways, so why did she feel the pain of rejection washing over her, and why could she never think about her return to Israel without her heart cracking just a little more? It would be good for her to be away from him. It was just the stress of being undercover combined with the hormones of sex, it wasn’t real. But, God, she wanted it to be. He’d been right that first day when he’d said that she wanted to be used and tossed aside. She didn’t really want that, but it was all she was used to, and that he had refused to discard her was frightening and new. For five years, she’d been trying desperately to feel something other than Jacob Tehran, but the men she slept with meant nothing, and so when it was over, she only felt used and hurt and Jacob’s face was still there, cold and cruel as he watched her bleed to death in front of him. But Gibbs had forced her to talk to him, had refused to let her remain distant and two dimensional, and she’d felt beautiful when he made love to her. Beautiful, safe, and wanted. All three were feelings she hadn’t had in a long time, and whatever it was about him that inspired them, she knew deep down it was something she could never escape from. When she’d seen him at sixteen from the stairs of her mother’s house, she’d felt something, and when she’d stood with him outside the palace that first day, it had come back again. She was in love and she knew it, but he didn’t feel the same, and she wouldn’t expose herself to more heartbreak, made a hundred times worse by the fact that this was love, not a one-night-stand that hadn’t progressed any further. She wouldn’t let emotions get the better of her, not after all the work she’d put into her self-control. She wasn’t in love with him, and she would prove it.
Jen and another woman faced off, both waiting for something, some trigger that would set of the hail of bullets, but Jen saw what she was waiting for first. “You’ve been following us Natasha.”
“The Soviet Union doesn’t appreciate being spied on after all this time, Jennifer.” The other woman threw back.
“And I really don’t appreciate having to come in for intervention.” Chimed in Sarai sweetly. She gestured for Natasha to put down her gun. “Don’t make me shoot you, it would really be a sad waste of talent and beauty. I do understand these things you know.”
Natasha knelt slowly, hands raised as she dropped her weapon. “Happy?” she asked resentfully.
Sarai smiled brightly. “Delighted.” She replied. “I’m glad you see reason, and I hope that we can continue this little streak. See, we’re going to need to get you out of this party and I’d rather you did it under your own steam.”
“You mock me!” hissed the other blonde. Natasha froze when Sarai took her necklace out of her pocket and clasped it around her neck. “What have we done to Israel lately, little Jew?”
“That, for starters.” Shrugged Sarai coldly. “Didn’t they ever teach you not to antagonize a woman holding a gun to your head? My finger might just...” she couldn’t help the little twitch at the trigger. “Slip. I assure you, you wouldn’t like that.”
“If I leave Russia alive, I won’t stay that way for long.” Pleaded the woman.
“So you’d rather I kill you now? How brave.”
“Hey!” Sarai caught Jen’s warning just as Natasha lunged for the red-head. She stumbled and fell before she’d so much as touched Jen, dead before she hit the ground.
Sarai stared at the dead woman, mingled pity and disgust in her eyes. She didn’t look at her mother as she stuck her seven-shot into the waist of her jeans. “Papí called. I promised I’d go home. He wants me to train the girls and start working with Michael.”
“I know you hate it when assignments end this way.” Sighed Jen. Sarai dragged her fingers through her hair, not bothering to answer. “Come here honey.”
“Come here honey.” Gibbs was surprised to hear Jen’s voice so soft. He paused at the edge of the door, glancing through it, and saw Jen holding Sarai close and petting her hair. The red-head kissed the younger woman’s forehead and Gibbs saw a tear tumble down his lover’s cheek. “I love you. So much, Raz. I’m so proud of you for all you’ve accomplished, but I wish you wouldn’t go back to Tel Aviv.”
“Same, Jen.” Sniffed the blonde, clinging to her. “It’s just...home doesn’t feel safe right now, you know? I needed to work, it made me feel better.”
“Just consider coming home sweetheart.” Murmured Jen. Sarai nodded and Gibbs was stunned. Jen and Razi as lovers? It couldn’t be, and yet there was his proof. He spun on his heel and strode away, wondering how he’d managed to get played again.
Sarai closed her eyes as his arms circled around her waist, pulling her tightly against him. “You look tired.” He murmured, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pulling her into his lap. “You get into trouble after all?”
“I hate wasting talent like that.” she sighed, feeling exhausted. “Oh, screw it, I hate wasting a life like that. How’d it go for you and Callen?”
“Pretty open and shut actually. Hey, I have another question.”
“Jen and I are not lovers, nor were we ever, nor will we ever be.” She told him, anticipating what he was going to ask. He glanced at her curiously and she rolled her eyes. “I saw you, Jethro, but don’t worry, she didn’t. Jenny is a friend, she has my back and I have hers, but that’s all. I may be Israeli, but I was born an American citizen.”
“You know me too well.” He laughed quietly. “Now would you mind putting away those weapons? You’re starting to worry me.”
“I thought I didn’t scare you.” She teased, laying back on the covers. “Prove it. Come and get them.” She smiled as he obeyed with a playful growl.
He dragged her blouse over her head and kissed his way along her skin from her fingertips to her collarbone to the waist of her jeans, carefully removing anything he found on his way and dropping them to the floor by their bed. “That all?” he asked, teasing her neck with soft kisses.
“Lower.” She breathed dreamily. “Hip, ankle, calf.”
He pushed her jeans off, checking each of the places she’d mentioned, and stayed low. He covered her core with his hand, enjoying the dampness against his palm. “How good are you at following orders baby girl?” he asked seductively.
“Depends on what they are and who’s giving them.” She replied evasively. “Why?”
“I’ve got a few for you, if you want them.” He told her, his low voice sending thrills up her spine. She nodded mutely, gazing down at him. “Close your eyes and stay where I put you.” Her eyes fell shut as she relaxed her body, and he moved her hips and legs to suit his purpose. “Say everything that comes to your mind, no filters.” He pressed his lips to her belly and stroked her inner thighs lightly, drifting upward, tantalizingly close to her sex, but never quite there. At first, the only sound in the room was her soft panting and whimpering, but when he finally brushed up against the bundle of nerves at her core, she let out a sharp exclamation in Hebrew. “English, Razi.” He warned.
“I don’t think there’s a translation.” She gasped, pushing against the mattress underneath her. “God, what are you doing?” she pleaded desperately.
“If I told you, you wouldn’t need me to do it anymore.” He teased gently. “I’m just touching sweetheart, I promise.” He pushed up suddenly, slipping two fingers past her initial resistance, and she cried out as he hit her most sensitive spot. He didn’t move for a second, giving her a chance to breathe again, and then began working his fingers slowly against her. She purred encouragements and pleas to him, unable to think clearly enough to filter her words anyway, but the first part of his orders was the part she was beginning to have trouble with. She was desperate to open her eyes and see what he was doing to her, and the way he’d arranged her made it impossible for her to touch him. She wanted to kiss him, to hear him whisper sweet words to her while he made love to her. Before she even realized it, the words were out. She couldn’t even recognize the trembling, pleading voice that said them, but she saw him smile at her and his touches disappeared from inside her. He slid back up her body, capturing her mouth with soft dominance. “Whatever you want Beautiful.” He rasped, pulling his shirt over his head and kicking off his jeans. Her lips parted to let him in and he groaned softly, tangling his fingers in her hair. She tasted like cinnamon and vanilla and, for some reason, home, and he loved it, loved her. In a split second, his mind was made up, and he lifted her lips to his, exploring deeper into her mouth.
She couldn’t breathe as he kissed her, didn’t need to, and it felt so good and right to be in his arms right now, to be giving herself to him like this. It was worth it, even if it would break her heart to leave him tomorrow. And then he said the sweetest words she could ever have heard. “I love you Razi.” He murmured. “I want to stay with you and I don’t care if we’re in Moscow, DC, Israel, or Quantico.”
“Thank God.” She breathed, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of his eyes. “I love you too, God help us.”
“I think He has.” Gibbs shuddered, losing his train of thought, and they were both gone, floating together in a world made specifically for love.
His fingers traced random patterns on her arm as she curled into him. “We can’t do it.” She realized, stunned. “There literally isn’t a way. I have to go back to Israel, and you have a contract in DC. It’s not possible.”
Gibbs kissed the top of her head softly. “We’ll figure it out.” he assured her, twisting a lock of hair around his finger thoughtfully. “I promise we’ll figure this out. You’re stuck with me now baby girl.”
“God, I’ve fallen in love with a bastard!” laughed Sarai as she buried her head in his chest.
“My parents were married, thank you.” He pointed out carelessly.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, right, I’m the bastard. Sorry.”
“You are?” he glanced down in surprise. She nodded and his eyes widened with curiosity. “You related to anyone important then?”
She was quiet for a moment. “Doesn’t matter.” She muttered, suddenly regretting the admission. “So what is your plan?”
“Sleep now, talk in the morning.” He replied promptly. “It’s late, and we’re both tired, but we’ll make it work, okay?”
“Okay.” She agreed, kissing him gently and nestling closer.
“I love you Raz.” He said again, liking the way the words tasted on his tongue.
She smiled, eyes closed. “I love you too Jethro.”
Sarai’s eyes fluttered open in the early morning light, and she smiled at the marine whose arms had protected her all night. His breathing was soft and regular and she slipped out of their bed carefully, trying not to wake him. She spent a few minutes gathering up what little she’d brought with her and stood with her hand on the door handle, trying to force herself to leave. But she’d promised him, and she couldn’t hurt him that way. She set her bag down by the door and hurried over to the little end table by the bed. She grabbed a pen and paper and scrawled out a message, setting it on the pillow where her head had rested beside his the night before. She moved back to the door, but it still didn’t feel like enough. Almost in a dream, she walked back to his sleeping form, unclasping her silver necklace from around her neck. She watched it fall onto the card she’d left him and leaned over, her lips brushing over his cheek as she whispered to him. “I love you Jethro.” She kissed his forehead softly and left quickly, before she could think of another reason to stay.
He’d fallen asleep with his face buried in her hair, breathing in her scent, and his arm draped heavily across her waist. But when he woke, she was gone, and what little she’d had with her had vanished as well. He rolled over, swearing quietly, and then broke into a smile. Her necklace lay on the pillow, a note card underneath it. Her elegant script told him everything he needed to know about why she’d left without him.
I love you. "Razi
He got out of bed, pulling his clothes back on and slipping the card and necklace into his jeans pocket. He knew where she was, and he would find her. Besides, he would know her the minute he saw her again, and she couldn’t possibly be a good enough actor to not react if she saw him. He left the apartment behind him as he headed for the airport where Jen and Callen would be waiting for him so they could all go back to DC
End Notes:
I tried to make their time in Russia a little more serious, so that the rest of the story didn't seem so weird.
Controlled by KatelynGibbs
Author's Notes:
Sarai has run away from love, but quickly discovers that she can't escape from it, no matter how many mile she puts between herself and the agent who turned her world upside down. Her family in America was shattered long ago, but old friends in Israel are ready to welcome her back if she can only keep from pushing them away. But a call from a teammate forces her to choose between her loyalty to her family and her loyalty to Gibbs, and she realizes that there are some things more important than control.
(Note: If they live or have lived in Israel, they’re speaking in Hebrew!)
“Ziva Davíd.” Sarai smiled, black hair falling around her face in think waves as she stepped through security in Tel Aviv. She opened her arms and the nineteen year old flew into them. “You’re all grown up, Mija!” she exclaimed, hugging her sister tightly. “Jesus, girl, how do your parents feel about that outfit?” she plucked at Ziva’s sheer top and the girl grinned.
“They can complain all they want, but it’s my life now!” cried Ziva happily. “You’re lucky to be twenty one, at least your legal everywhere.”
Sarai snorted derisively. “Way to remind me how young I am, Ziv. Do you have any idea how hard I’ve been working to forget that number?”
Ziva’s eyes widened with delight. “Lela’s in love!” she sang teasingly. “With an older man by the sound of it.”
“Oh, shut it.” Replied Sarai, but there was a softness in her eyes as she looked at her younger sister. “Come on, let’s go get Tali. I’ve a mind to take you girls out before we start working.”
Sarai jerked awake, gasping for breath, and was only a little surprised to find herself lying on Ziva’s couch. She buried her head in her lap, muffling her quiet tears. What had she done? Gibbs would be back in DC by now, and likely he’d already moved on to the next woman. It had been her choice, after all, he’d asked her to stay, and she’d chosen to run instead. For the second time, she found herself stuck with the taste of a man she couldn’t bear to remember, determined to rid herself of it.
“Areille?” asked Ziva sleepily. “You alright?” Sarai wiped her eyes hastily and glanced up at her younger sister. Ziva saw the red eyes and sat down next to the older girl. “You thinking about that mystery lover again?”
“No.” she lied, shaking her head. “That woman’s face. I don’t usually look Ziv, but this one, she was scared to die, but she was even more afraid to live. It was sick.”
“That’s the life we live, Lela.” Sighed Ziva. “As spies. Is there any other way, really?”
“Of course there is!” exclaimed Sarai, horrified. “Ziva, this is not the way the world lives! Believe it or not, there is a world out there where children are not afraid to leave their houses, where people are not suspicious of everyone around them, where war isn’t the only thing the people know.”
“Well it’s not here, Areille, and we’re here, so that doesn’t really matter.” Said Ziva carelessly. “What matters is that we fight to make Israel like that. Safe. It’s our duty, and we’re good at it. You ready to come in? Not everyone knew you back then, and most of us didn’t even know you were working for Mossad, so you might get a little hassle from the older operatives. Just ignore them, we all know you’re the best one for the job.”
“Thanks for the confidence Mija.” Murmured Sarai, getting up and stretching carefully. “Ready as ever I suppose. You?”
“Five more minutes.” She replied and disappeared. Within the named time, she was back and ready to head out. “It’s good to have you back Lela.” She said gently. “But it isn’t worth love.” Sarai stared after her younger sister in shock as she walked away, her good advice hanging heavy in the air.
“Who’s your new friend Ziva?” Asked a man, glancing curiously at Sarai.
“Sol, this is Areille Mizrahi. Areille, Solomon Casir.” Introduced Ziva.
Solomon looked her over appreciatively. “Now I see how you got the job.” He said thoughtfully.
Sarai’s temper flared, and Ziva winced when her friend’s expression iced over. “I do not take well to disrespect.” She said frostily, her voice level and controlled. “And I’ll thank you not to speak carelessly.”
“Ice must be back.” Came a familiar voice from behind them. “I think the building just got ten degrees colder. Welcome back Lela.” Michael kissed her cheek innocently.
“Jesus, the peanut gallery’s here.” Muttered Solomon. “This place is going to go to the dogs.” This time, both Michael and Ziva flinched and Sarai’s patience ran out.
Before anyone could blink, she’d slammed him into the wall, arms pinned behind his back so that he couldn’t move. “I did warn you.” She told him silkily. “I will not tolerate disrespect. You’d do well to learn that, Officer Casir.”
“Or what?” he spat, furious and embarrassed. Half of the people in the building were already watching, awed by the dark beauty who had caught the spotlight.
“Or you’ll find yourself in a hospital bed.” Replied Michael from a short distance away. “By the way, technically, THAT’S how she got the job. She’s sort of been like this all her life.”
Sarai caught sight of Eli Davíd through the crowd of people, a resigned look on his face, and she released Solomon abruptly. “Have a nice day.” She said icily, and strode toward her father.
He sighed in annoyance as the crowd seemed to part in front of her. “Did you really have to start already?” he asked, leading her into his office.
“It makes an impression.” She retorted as the door closed behind her. “And I am not really in the mood to deal with the attitude right now.”
“You’re as bad as your mother sometimes, you know that?” laughed Eli. “You look just like her when you’re angry, too.”
“I’ll behave Papí.” She promised quietly. “Just give me my orders.”
“I don’t want you to behave and follow orders, Sarai, I could have hired any one of my operatives for that. I want you to run things your way and argue with everything and obey orders because you think they’re for the best, not because I wrote them. You’re the only operative I have who has the bravery to do any of that, let alone the brains to do it right. I’m giving you the Kidon unit. Impress me.”
Sarai stared at him. “You must be joking.”
He shook his head. “I assure you I’m not. You’re mother thinks it might be a good change for you as well as a help to Mossad. I mean every word I said.”
“In that case,” She shook her hair back, eyes blazing. “I have an example to make.” She turned and strode out of the room.
“Damn it.” Sighed Eli grimly. “I knew I should have had Vana talk to her.”
A sharp whistle rang through the halls of Kidon headquarters, and everyone turned to look at Sarai where she stood in front of the gym. A shocked whisper rippled through the crowd, but no one spoke aloud. “I don’t suppose many of you remember me.” She said, her voice soft, yet carrying through to everyone. “Those who do, I don’t expect any problems. Those who don’t, I think we need to have a little chat. Who remembers Areille Mizrahi?”
A few people shifted uncomfortably, but more raised their hands. One woman smiled at her kindly. “You’ve been gone a while, Areille, but I don’t think any of the people who worked here back then could forget you.”
“Toda.” She replied gratefully. “Alright, anyone who doesn’t remember me, please stay, the rest of you, thank you for your time, you may go.” About a third of the group left with the dismissal, but Ziva, Tahlia, and Michael lingered by the crowd, grinning wickedly. “One question for you. Does anyone have a problem taking orders from me?” No one answered, not that she’d expected them to when she phrased it that way. “Good. Next question. Anyone think they can take me?” Michael’s jaw dropped, and Tahlia slapped a hand across her mouth to stifle her laughter. A few people came forward, all men, most of them in their thirties, and all of them glancing her over with mingled appreciation and amusement. She smiled at them sweetly. “Why don’t you gentlemen decide amongst yourselves who’s the best fighter. Who gets to take the bitch down a notch or two.” Disbelief showed in everyone’s faces, both at the opportunity and at Sarai’s choice of words. She waited while the men came to a decision, then gestured for everyone to join her in the gym. She swung herself into the ring and pinned her waist-length hair up in a ponytail, smiling. This was the rush she’d missed. It felt almost as good as....She cut the thought off quickly. She would forget about him and replace him a thousand times with other men and with her job. “Get up here.” She told the man who’d been chosen. “I’ll give you three rounds. You win two or more, you’ve got immunity for any problems you may have with me for the rest of your career here.”
“And if I win one or less?” asked the man warily.
She glanced him over. He was in his late-twenties and handsome, dark but with a hint of the American surfer-boy in the way his hair fell loosely around his face. He had potential as an operative, and obviously he was a good fighter or they wouldn’t have chosen him. She shrugged carelessly. “Then you leave this room no better or worse off than you were before. What’s your name?”
“Malachi BenGidon.” He answered respectfully.
“How long have you been working here Officer BenGidon?”
“Two years.”
She raised an eyebrow. “They voted a Probie up to fight me? How does that prove anyone’s point?”
“There are only two people in this office who can beat me.” He said proudly. “Officer Tahlia Davíd and Officer Michael Tehran.”
Sarai shook her head in amusement. “Alright then. Can anyone in this office beat Davíd or Tehran?”
“You.” Said Michael easily, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I don’t feel like getting beaten today, thank you.”
“Well, I guess it’s settled then.” Sarai pulled her sweater over her head, leaving her in her tank-top and jeans. “Ready Officer BenGidon?”
“As ever, Officer Mizrahi.”
Fifteen minutes later, Malachi landed on the ground for the third time, Sarai pinning him into the ground easily. She got up and held out her hand to him. He grabbed it and pulled himself to his feet, then shook it. “Impressive.” He huffed, out of breath.
She smiled and unpinned her hair, turning to the crowd that had gone silent after the beginning of the third round. “Let me make one thing damn clear to you all.” She began. “I’m not interested in any personal problems you may have with me, if I give an order, I expect it to be followed. If you think I’ve made the wrong choice, tell me so. I don’t want anyone keeping their doubts to themselves because they’re worried I won’t like their opinion, that kind of disrespect from a boss is what leads to dead operatives and botched missions. But if you want to pick a fight with me because I’m a woman, or because I’m younger than you, or because you just don’t like taking orders from me, take some advice. Don’t.” she slid out of the ring and walked away, leaving everyone dumbfounded behind her.
Washington DC.
Abby Sciuto, the new forensic scientist at NCIS, was feeling incredibly weird with Gibbs standing directly behind her as she worked. “A watched fingerprint never matches, Gibbs.” She said nervously. “Can’t you go? I’ll call you with the answer when I get it.”
“No, I can’t go. I need this print now, Abby.” Retorted Gibbs, frustrated. “How long is this going to take?”
“There are millions of fingerprints in these systems, it could easily take twenty-four hours to find a match on one of them. At least you got a really good one. So what is she, some kind of black widow? And what language is....”
“Hebrew.” He growled. “Means secret. Which is what this print is, understand?”
“Bad date?” asked Abby sympathetically.
He sighed, rubbing his temples exhaustedly. “Yeah, something like that. Please Abby, I need this to stay just between you and me.”
Abby was touched by his helplessness. He’d never once in the last two years said please. “Of course. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful....” Her computer set off a frenzied beeping and she opened the search screen. “Uh oh.”
“Uh oh, what uh oh?” he demanded. “I don’t like the sound of uh oh.”
“Your runaway date’s fingerprint brought up a cold case file Gibbs.” She grimaced.
“One of ours?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah, but I can’t open it.” Said Abby apologetically. “It’s an open intelligence operation and it’s been classified so high a conspiracy theorist would have a fit.”
“Damn.” Muttered Gibbs.
“Guess this means you’ve got to arrest her.”
“Like I could.” He laughed, amused. “No, it just means I have to go old school to find her. Thanks Abbs.” He turned and walked away.
“Good luck Gibbs.”
Tel Aviv, Israel. Two months later
“Ice!” called Michael. He jogged over, catching up to her quickly. “Hey, what’s up? You shot out of there like you were on fire.”
Sarai glanced at him, a little dazed by the truth that had struck her a few minutes earlier. “I’m just not feeling so great.” She replied dismissively. “I’ll be fine. Why do you call me that?”
“Call you what?”
“Ice. I never figured that out.”
“Because you’re an ice queen.” He laughed, amused. “You’ve got just about every man in this building off their game, even some of the married ones, and you don’t even notice. When was the last time you looked up and counted the number of men and women who catch fire when you walk by? And when was the last time one of them made you catch fire?”
Unbidden, the memory of her last night with Gibbs flashed through her mind and she shivered lightly. “Fair enough.” She replied softly, shaking herself out of the longing that had washed over her.
He raised an eyebrow at her, catching sight of the momentary flash of desire. “Lady Ice found someone to melt her.” He observed. “What, exactly, were you doing before you came back?”
“Tactical on special ops in Russia.” She answered, smiling wickedly. “It’s cold at night. That doesn’t mean I’m melting.”
“Sure.” Laughed Michael. “Whatever. Hey, if you’re not feeling well, you should go home. We’re not totally helpless without you.”
“And give you all a chance to plan your rebellion?” she teased. “I’ll be fine. Come on, I booked the range for us in ten minutes.”
Sarai leaned back in the couch cushions that night, looking at the test in her hand thoughtfully. A gentle smile flitted across her lips as she dropped it into the trash beside the couch. “Only you, Jethro.” She murmured to herself. “Only you.”
Washington DC, a month and a half later.
Gibbs sat on the floor of his basement with his back against the boat frame, gazing at the necklace Sarai had left him, as he often did these days. He’d exhausted every resource he had, short of asking Jen, and while he wasn’t ready to give up, he certainly had little confidence left. He was even beginning to question the sincerity with which she’d said she loved him. It was her job to be a ghost, after all, why would she throw that away for sex with a Navy cop in the first place? Maybe she’d just used the affair to throw him off, make her escape, and even have some leverage on him for later. If only he could get into that damned case file, maybe he could find something, but it was beyond hacking, he’d checked. Maybe it was just time to give up and move on, after all, she’d been right before when she said it just wasn’t possible. He hadn’t managed to find a way yet, and obviously she hadn’t either.
Then a thought struck him. She was a fighter and she’d gone back to Israel, for all he knew, she might be dead. No. He couldn’t imagine a world that kill his former lover, she was simply too alive to die. It made no sense, even in his own thoughts, but it was true.
His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out with a sigh. “Gibbs.” He answered.
“I’m so sorry Jethro.” Came her hoarse whisper across the line. “God, I’m so sorry.”
His head shot up at the sound of her voice. “Razi, where are you?
“A cemetery.” She replied softly. “I’m so sorry.”
“Did you kill another dealer or something?” he laughed. “What are you sorry about baby girl?”
“I’m sorry I left.” The pain in her voice cut through him and he wished more than ever that he knew where she was. “But I did, and you need to forget about me now.”
“You know I can’t do that.” He told her quietly. “We’ve already been through this. Why don’t you just tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.”
“I’m in hell Jethro, and I won’t let you join me here.” He could hear her uneven breathing that meant tears and grimaced, leaning back against the wooden skeleton of his boat.
“Then come to me.” He tempted. “Don’t stay there.”
She was silent for a moment, then, “I can’t go back to Virginia.” She replied resignedly.
“Because of that murder case?” he asked bitterly. “You killed a sailor, didn’t you?”
She gasped in shock. “No! I promise you, I have never killed a marine or a sailor, why would you think that?”
“Because your fingerprint brought up a cold case file.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s classified why beyond my payroll, but I do know it involves a victim in my jurisdiction. It’s from…’92 I think.”
“I know it.” She murmured sadly. “But it’s not one of mine, I promise you. That’s Jasper’s case.”
“He killed my sailor?”
“No, he is your sailor. Jenny’s father. I would not kill my best friend’s father. But I was staying with them at the time, so I guess my prints must have gotten onto something of his at the crime-scene.”
“Okay baby, I believe you.” He said quietly. “But I need you to come home. Please.”
“Don’t make this harder.” She pleaded. “You have to stop looking for me, it’s dangerous.”
“Please don’t say goodbye Raz.” He asked, only the slightest tang of an order in his words.
“I…I have to.” She protested, sounding dazed and confused as she tried to disobey.
“Don’t hang up baby girl.” He repeated, the authority in his voice was stronger now. “I miss you, don’t go.” He could imagine her face, clouded with struggle as she fought the need to stay on the line.
“Goodbye Jethro.” She whimpered. The phone went dead and he closed his eyes, the cell tumbling out of his hand. His head fell forward, hands clasped behind it, and he had to take several deep breaths before he could look back up.
Sarai collapsed to her knees in the dirt, her cry of pain turning into full bodied sobs as she hugged herself tightly. Jagged images flashed through her mind, fragments of the last forty-eight hours. A shattered dish on the floor when the cramping started, the expression on the nurses’ faces as her body tore itself apart rejecting her baby, and the sympathetic face of the doctor who had delivered the news. She drew a shuddering breath, reading the gravestone in front of her through a blur of tears.
Jacob C. Tehran. June 16th, 1940 through August 2nd, 1994.
“Why?” she whispered to it, barely registering the rain that had begun to plaster her hair to her face. “Why did you do this to me Jacob?” Her whole body was wracked by sobs and her fingernails were digging into her skin where she clutched her arms around herself. She was numb to the world around her, the icy wind that whipped her hair around her face, the sting of the rain drops on her skin, all of it faded away in the face of her broken heart.
“Areille?” Michael’s voice sounded a thousand miles away. “Jesus Ice, what the hell are you doing here?” he knelt on the ground beside her, draping his coat over her shoulders and pulling her close. “You shouldn’t come here alone.” He told her gently, resting his chin on the top of her head.
“Did they ever find out why?” she asked, eyes locked on the tombstone.
“No Ice,” he sighed, hugging her and casting a furious glance at his father’s final resting place. “They never found out why he did it. Have you been here this whole time?”
“Yes.” She turned her gaze away from the stone, burying her face in his shirt instead. “He took my children from me, I just want to know why.”
“Oh God, not again Areille.” He said, dismayed. “One of your Russian lovers knocked you up?”
“He’s not Russian.” She whispered miserably. “American. Alira would’ve been a pretty girl if she looked anything like her father.”
“A beautiful name for a beautiful child.” Agreed Michael gently. “Have you been to see Jasmin?”
She nodded hesitantly. “I went there first. I wouldn’t have come here at all except....” She couldn’t finish and he sighed, petting her dark hair.
“Did they say you were done Ice?” he asked softly.
“More than a miracle.” She agreed miserably. “Do you think he regrets it?”
He was silent for a moment. “I don’t know what my father would think, not anymore. But whether he regretted what he did or not, I won’t ever forgive him. Let me take you home Areille, you shouldn’t stay here.” Sarai let him help her up and lead her out to his car, lost in her grief. Before she knew it, they were back at her apartment and he’d half-carried her to her bedroom. She curled up on the blankets and closed her eyes, shutting out the world. She could feel Michael sitting on the edge of the bed next to her but she didn’t move. “I’ll call the Director and tell him I found you. You’ve had us all really worried. Do you want me to stay for a while, or....” She was shaking her head silently, so he got up and left. “Don’t leave us Ice.” He warned, pausing at the doorway just long enough to say it before he was gone.
“She’s practically catatonic, Director.” Said Michael quietly, leaning back tiredly in the chair across from Eli. “She got pregnant again, and apparently they told her she was done.”
“Pregnant? Since she came back?” asked Eli incredulously.
Michael shrugged. “She didn’t say.” He lied. If his friend hadn’t told the Director anything, he certainly wouldn’t. “I don’t think she should be alone, sir, I think someone needs to be with her, maybe Ivanna or Ziva or Tahlia.”
Eli sighed, glancing at his operative. “If I know that girl at all, she’ll be back at work tomorrow like nothing happened.” He told the younger man. “I don’t like it, but she’s always been that way, and she would be furious if anyone else saw her this way. For now, there’s nothing we can do.”
“Where were you Lela?” demanded Tahlia, hugging the older woman tightly.
“I just caught a bug.” Shrugged Sarai carelessly. “I’m fine Tali.” Tahlia let go and they walked together, chatting easily. The only sign of what had happened to Sarai in the last two days was the flash of shame that Michael saw in her eyes when she looked at him, and it annoyed him that she felt ashamed to have needed help. He considered confronting her about it, but he couldn’t make himself do it.
One by one, the other Kidon operatives began to respect Sarai rather than resent her. She ran the unit with taut reigns and never hesitated to state her opinion of her own agents and her father’s ideas, but she also never shut anyone down for doing the same. She took assignments with her agents and put herself in harm’s way a thousand times to protect the people she worked with.
It was well known at Mossad that, while she often had dates/lovers, she wasn’t emotionally interested in any of them. She’d adopted most of Gibbs’s rules for herself, although she only taught a few of them to the other agents, and she quickly became a household name for anyone who worked with her. Most of the time, she was outgoing and friendly, but every now and then her mood would take a massive turn and the whole agency was reminded of why they respected the young woman.
She didn’t lose her temper often, but when she did everyone was scared of her, so when she stormed into Eli’s office one day, the two other men there left with quick, muttered goodbyes. Eli gazed up at his daughter calmly. “Do you have any idea how much you look like your mother right now?” he asked, setting aside some papers.
“What the hell is Ari thinking?” she demanded, ignoring the attempt to side-track her. “What he’s doing is risky enough without all this! What he just did was suicide for him and his assignment!”
“They don’t even know who he is.” Laughed Eli. “And they won’t either. He’s not done anything that bad.”
Sarai stared at him in shock. “Not that bad?” she repeated incredulously. “He held NCIS’s ME’s and one of their agents hostage! He shot the medical examiner’s assistant and the boy’s never going to be a doctor now. The hostages were all people that Special Agent Gibbs cared very much about. Ari is as good as dead!”
“I understand your concern, Sarai.” Sighed Eli. “But Agent Gibbs will not be a problem. If worst comes to worst, we can read him into Ari’s assignment.”
“You think that will stop him?” laughed Sarai. “You don’t know the man, Papí.”
“And you do?”
“He and Mamá worked together for eight years, I know enough.” She retorted. “Agent Gibbs will not give a damn about what good Ari may be doing if that idiot doesn’t tread lightly around his team. Unless you want a dead son, you’ll make it clear to Ari that he needs to find a way to make amends before Gibbs becomes too set on revenge. There’s not a damn thing even I could do to stop him after that.”
Eli frowned, thoughtfully. “Alright, I will consider this, but remember that there’s only so much choice he has.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “His choices are uncover himself just enough or die.” She turned and strode back out.
“Lela?”
Sarai was surprised to hear her sister’s voice so shaky over the phone. “Hey Ziv, what’s up?”
“How soon can you get to DC?” asked Ziva.
Sarai pursed her lips furiously. “I’m not supposed to involve myself in Ari, Mija, that’s why you have the job, the Director thinks I won’t give him a fair shot.”
“Yes, well, you shouldn’t.” replied Ziva. “He shot that woman, Special Agent Katelyn Todd, murdered her. At least, Agent Gibbs and everyone else here is convinced of it, and they’re saying that he’s trying to kill Agent Gibbs. I’m beginning to believe them. I need you to help me, Lela, because if they’re right, and he’s gone over to the other side, I’ll have to kill him, and I can’t do that! He’s my brother, Lela, you have to help me.”
Sarai’s eyes iced over and she fought to control her anger before she spoke again. “I’ll be there by morning Mija, don’t worry, but I need you to make me a promise right now.”
“Anything.”
“Once I get there, this assignment is mine, and you WILL do exactly what I say, alright?”
“Of course! Thank you so much Areille, I wasn’t sure what to do.” Said Ziva gratefully. “Shall I pick you up at the airport?”
“No. I’ll come to you. Don’t worry about anything Ziva, I’ll handle it.”
Ziva and Sarai stood on opposite sides of the doorframe at the top of the stairs, listening as Ari confessed to everything. It was amazing what people will say when they’re sure they’re on the winning side. Sarai could see tears in Ziva’s eyes and motioned for the girl to step back farther into the shadows. She’d already given Ziva instructions on how this was going to play out.
“If he dies, Ziv, you tell Agent Gibbs that you killed him, understand?” ordered Sarai, steel in her voice.
“Lela....”
“That’s an order, Officer Davíd.” Sarai cut her off. “Tell him you shot your own brother to save his life, those exact words. You’ll need his trust and support soon, and this is the best way to earn it. You will under no circumstances tell anyone that you’ve seen me, or spoken with me, clear?”
“Crystal.” Agreed Ziva sadly.
“Good, come on. We’d better get going.”
Gibbs’s voice snapped her back to the present. “It’ll be just as sweet watching you die.” Sarai aimed carefully and pulled the trigger. Ari had glanced up when Gibbs had spoken, and he’d caught sight of Sarai standing in the doorframe. A surprised smile lit up his face, and then he crumpled to the ground, dead. Ziva’s hands flew to her mouth, stunned. She felt a thrill of fear when she saw the icy look in her mentor’s eyes as Sarai gazed at Ari’s body. It was clear that the older woman had felt nothing, no remorse, no pain, no regret, at killing her agent, and as she handed the weapon to Ziva, walking away, Sarai knew that she couldn’t go back to her life in Israel. It wasn’t Ari’s death, she knew that Gibbs would take credit for it to protect Ziva, but to realize that she was numb to the act of killing horrified her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that she had ever meant to go back anyway, or else why would she have gone back to the cemetery to see Alira, Jasmin, Tahlia, and Jacob? But the decision had cemented itself in her brain now as she left her little sister in the care of her ex-lover. The only question now was; where would she go instead?
Ziva walked slowly down the stairs into the basement, half in shock. “He was your brother.” Observed Gibbs quietly, watching the young Mossad officer. This had been a confusing night for him, forced to trust a woman he was determined not to, and then thinking he’d seen a flash of those beautiful green eyes he missed so much when the figure had melted out of the shadows and shot Ari.
Ziva nodded, then burst into tears, more at the shock of seeing the woman, who had mentored and helped raised her, kill anyone with such cold dismissal than at her brother’s death. Gibbs sighed and hugged her awkwardly, crying women were the only thing that truly intimidated him., and promptly dismissed the idea that his ex-lover had been here.
End Notes:
This is where things start really changing, so if you try to skip from this point on, you will get lost very fast.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.