 | ShatterStorm Productions
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| ShatterStorm Productions
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Author's Disclaimer: I own nothing. DPB pwns all, I am mearly a fan. All I share in common with any of this is my name is Jennifer. Though, if anyone tried to call me Jenny, I'd kick their ass. :)
Disclaimer: "NCIS: Naval Criminal Investigative Services," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Belisarius Productions, Paramount Network Television Productions, Paramount Television, and CBS Television. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with " NCIS: Naval Criminal Investigative Services," CBS, or any representatives of Pauley Perrette or Cote de Pablo.
Two days after landing in Paris and Jenny was heading to the Eiffel Tower, at the fashionably late hour of 8:30pm; in a Tux. Oh, it really wasn’t a shocking thing, it was hers after all, and tailored to fit her body along with the plunging white shirt she wore under the body-hugging jacket. When she found it in her luggage after she’d landed she read the note Jethro had included:
Jen,
Now, while you know Ziva is somewhere there in Paris with you, Ziva has no clue you’re there.
On the second night of your stay you need to be at the top of the Eiffel Tower no later then 9pm. There are reservations for the two of you to dine at Le Jules Verne at 9:15pm. You can thank Ducky for that later. I’ve told Ziva to be at the top of the EiffelTower no later then 8:45pm. I’m not sure what she’s going to be wearing, but I told her black tie. She thinks she’s meeting an old friend of mine for (quick) drinks.
We are old friends, right, Jen? Because you need to tell me something fast if I’m way off the mark here, I don’t want to hurt my Agent. But I also don’t want to hurt you either. I don’t know what happened in Cairo, but if it’s what I think it was, think of this as a second chance.
Life’s too short.
Jethro
Her only reply to Jethro had been a text message saying she would be there.
As she approached the avenue leading up to the famed tower, she couldn’t help but remember Abby’s expression of horror when she said she hadn’t gone to the top of the Tower. She gave a little smile to herself thinking she’d have to buy the scientist a gift of some sort.
Looking up at the glittering edifice before her, she could understand Abby’s disappointment. It was a beautiful structure that was a dazzling showpiece of the famed City of Lights.
She headed to the lifts, pulling the ticket she’d bought at the concierge of her hotel earlier in the day. The lift seemed to take forever, stopping several times along the way, twice for the two restaurants and for other observation levels.
She reached the top level at ten of nine, Ziva must already be here. She glances at her reflection in a sliver of mirror set around the entrance of the lift. Her hair was as bright red as ever, standing out even more against her skin, pale from being in an office all the time. Her tux fit like a glove, hugging curves in all the right places, she even had a little white boutonniere on the left lapel of her jacket. Slowly she walked around the top level, taking in the people who were taking in the view of Paris.
Suddenly she stopped, she’d found Ziva, and for a moment, a million butterflies fought to escape her belly. Her back was to Jenny and even just that view was exquisite. She wore a black silk dress with spaghetti straps, the back was low cut and it spilled down to a small train. Low kitten-heeled shoes peeped out from the hem. Her hair was piled atop her head, a few wild curls breaking free to tumble about her face.
Jenny swallowed and started walking towards her, cursing the sound her heels made on the floor. She stopped just behind the younger woman.
Ziva straightened up from where she had been leaning on the railing, her head tilting to one side; she didn’t turn. “Jenny?” Her voice was so soft; the wind nearly stole it away from her. She finally turned and a thousand and one expressions played across her face.
Jenny blushed like a schoolgirl, “You could always tell my footsteps from everyone else’s.” She looked down, averting her eyes from the penetrating stare of Ziva’s.
Ziva took a small step towards Jenny, “But Gibbs said…” She trailed off, confusion clearly evident on her face.
Jenny closed the gap; her right hand reaching out to grasp Ziva’s left. “Jethro said you’d be meeting an old friend, not entirely a lie.” Her thumb caressed the back of Ziva’s hand, and was surprised to see the younger woman shiver.
“You are here on pleasure, no?”
Jenny smiled, blushing and nodding, “Oh yes, this is all pleasure…” Her voice trailed off and her left hand came up to cup the base of Ziva’s skull as she leaned down to kiss her. It was a slow, soft kiss, Jenny didn’t want to push her; it had been many years since their last kiss. She was surprised by Ziva’s response, her arms slid around the redhead, fingertips softly digging into the satin of her suit and as she parted her lips to deepen the kiss, a soft whimper that nearly broke Jenny’s heart.
A million and one heartbeats later, Jenny broke the kiss, bumping noses with Ziva before resting her forehead against the taller woman’s. “I’m glad I wore my tall shoes, I’m actually taller then you, for once.” Jenny smiled, her arms holding Ziva gently, pleased to hear and feel her chuckle.
“Gibbs said black tie, I try to wear shoes that are not too tall; men are generally intimidated by tall women. “
Jenny’s smile became wolfish, “I like tall women.”
Ziva laughed, “I seem to recall that.” She swallowed then shivered in the cool Parisian air.
“You’re cold.” Jenny’s hands rubbed up and down Ziva’s arms.
“I will live.” Came Ziva’s stoic reply.
Jenny stepped back and began to remove her suit jacket, draping it over the Israeli’s shoulders.
“Jenny, no, I am fine, please,” Ziva was caught between wanting to wear the black satin that was as warm as Jenny’s body and wanting to remain aloof.
Jenny held a hand up, “Wear the jacket, Ziva; you’re freezing.” Her eyes traveled down the front of her dress lingering for a moment on the hard nubs that were indeed showing the world she was more then a little chilled.
Ziva actually blushed. “Well, if you insist.” She pulled the jacket tighter around her shoulders.
Jenny smiled, leaning down to brush her lips across Ziva’s check. “What do you say we blow off the fancy dinner reservations and get take-out and eat in my hotel room?” Her voice was a low husk in Ziva’s ear.
Ziva nodded, “I would like that very much.” She moved her head, kissing Jenny back, a bit more forcefully this time. “There is much to remember.” Her accent was thicker, her smile shy and sly at the same time.
Chuckling, Jenny took her hand, leading her to the lifts.
