A Place To Break Her Fall

Pairing: Ziva/Jenny
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~1400
Summary: Ziva remembers the last time. A little bit future fic.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making money.

"Some of those guys get a little handsy during trust falls," Abby had said, but Ziva fixed everyone with a glare as she got up on the chair and fell back. Gibbs was missing, but Abby, Tony and McGee were all there, and she felt them catch her gently: Tony's hands strong and sure on the small of her back, Abby's, cool and smooth, cradled her neck, and McGee's forearms caught her knees.

What a silly country, she thought. You can't build trust this way.

"See, you're fine," Abby said, as they tilted her upright. "Now we don't have to do this for at least another 12 months. Or until someone complains about Tony again." She hit Tony in the arm.

Ziva smiled absently. Usually she would get into the banter and see if she couldn't produce an injured look in Tony's eyes. She hated herself a little every time she did it, but Tony had the misfortune of being Gibbs's favorite, and Ziva couldn't help but be jealous--she was used to being the best. This time, though, Ziva let the comment pass. She felt a little disconnected--perhaps the build-up to the fall had made her more nervous than she should be.

Director Shepard stopped her outside the conference room that had been used for the sexual harassment seminar. Ziva stiffened instantly, but still leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, as the director would expect. "I'd like to see you in my office for a moment, Agent David," she said firmly.

Ziva followed the director, taking in, as she did, the woman's birdlike body, the delicate tilt of her neck, exposed now by her new haircut. As if she could sense Ziva's gaze, she ruffled her hair, and rubbed the back of her head. Ziva tamped down a hot surge of envy that started in her face and then traced down her limbs. Once Ziva had envied the poised, delicate women who paraded in and out of her father's life so much she could hardly talk to them. She had been a too-tall, too-strong adolescent, and still sometimes felt like a bull in a china shop next to lovely little women like Jenny.

Is that why you wanted to possess her, a small voice asked at the back of Ziva's mind, did you want to have her or to be her?

Jenny's office was a study in utility--no papers out of place, no personal effects--Ziva approved of such a controlled personality. She waited with her hands clasped behind her back, her feet a shoulder-width apart: parade rest.

"At ease, Ziva," said Jenny with a hint of a smile.

"I already am, ma'am," said Ziva. Her mouth curved a little with the director's.

"How are you getting on, here, Ziva?" she asked. Ziva shrugged a little.

"No complaints, ma'am," she responded.

"I wasn't sure, if this was the best place for you . . . after." Jenny looked down at her desk. Her lashes were long and dark against her cheek. Ziva didn't know which after she meant, after Cairo, after Ari, or after them? Ziva remembered the last time they'd been together, right after she'd killed Ari.

Jenny stood in the door of her house; the light the golden light from the hall streamed out around her, and back lit her hair so it looked like a halo of fire.

"Jenny," Ziva cried out from the porch steps, her voice breaking. "Gibbs was right. Goddamn him, he was right." Jenny stood a stair above and clasped Ziva to her breast. She pet Ziva's hair as she would a little girl's.

"Come in, Ziva," she said. Her voice sounded gravelly as if she'd just woken, but kind. Jenny could have stopped her in the living room, offered a cup of tea, and a hug, and sent Ziva back into the cold embrace of her hotel bed, but instead she drew Ziva upstairs, and held Ziva on her bed as she cried.

"I failed him!" cried Ziva. "I failed all of them. I should have known it earlier. And I had to kill him." She felt Jenny stiffen when she said it. "I'm sorry. That's probably not the report you'll get, but you have to know. He was going to kill Gibbs." Jenny smoothed Ziva's head back from her forehead.

"Let me get you something," she said. She laid Ziva down in the bed and went to the bathroom. She returned a minute later with a cold washcloth that she gently pressed to Ziva's eyes.

"I should go," said Ziva after a moment, once the cool cloth had done its work. She and Jenny had been over since Jenny left Tel Aviv a year ago, and even then it had been a furtive, hidden thing.

"You shouldn't be alone tonight," said Jenny. She lay down next to Ziva and put an arm over her. "Do you want to stay?" she asked. "I mean, stay in the United States. There could be a place for you in NCIS. Take the place Kate left?" Ziva didn't say anything. "I think they need you," she finished. She leaned over and kissed Ziva's temple. "You don't have to decide right now."

Ziva turned her face toward Jenny's and kissed her on the lips, soft at first and then with tingling insistence. Jenny seemed to know what kind of sex Ziva needed. Past times they had lain long in bed, taking turns giving each other languorous pleasure, but not now.

They kissed hard, and Ziva sat up and Jenny's robe off her shoulders, and then the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders. She sucked and bit at Jenny's nipples, and pressed her breasts hard. Jenny was content to let Ziva take the lead, so Ziva pulled off her own pants and guided Jenny's hand down between her legs.

"Fuck me," she whispered in Jenny's ear. "Please."

Jenny's fingers made few well-timed circles of Ziva's clit, and Ziva started to feel that building tightness in her pussy. Ziva rolled over on her back, and pulled Jenny on top of her. Jenny kissed her stomach, as she slid first one finger, then more, and finally all her fingers up into Ziva. Ziva rocked her pelvis and Jenny started to echo her rhythm until only a few minutes later she came hard enough that tears sprang to her eyes.

"Thank you," she breathed, once she knew she wasn't going to cry again. "I needed that so much."

Jenny smiled, and she had that challenging look in her eyes that had drawn Ziva to her in the first place. "I could tell," she said.

That had been the last time. Ziva had licked and fingered Jenny to climax, and they slept curled up together, but in the morning Ziva accepted the offer from NCIS, and with it the rule that she and Jenny were done.

"I like it here, ma'am," she said after bringing herself back to the present. "The team is good. And it's a bit of a relief after the last few years. As well you know."

"I was a little unsure." Jenny looked up at Ziva again.

"Has someone said something about me?" Ziva asked.

"No, nothing like that. Jethro says you're a gifted agent, good at everything. Except driving."

"You never had a problem with it," said Ziva with a private smile.

"You were such a daredevil, driving around Gaza, and outrunning the gunners at the checkpoints. It must be boring here by comparison."

"Sometimes that is necessary," said Ziva. "You and Gibbs. I never thanked you for letting me stay here, after what happened. Thank you, ma'am," she finished.

"You used to call me, Jenny," said the director. She wore a sideways smile that reminded Ziva of Gibbs for a moment, although in most ways they couldn't be more different.

"I thought it was best . . . Jenny."

"Yes, you're probably right. Some things work best under . . . extreme circumstances." Ziva didn't meet Jenny's eyes. "Still, you know you can come and talk to me anytime, right?"

Ziva nodded.

"They'll start to trust you, you know. Once you trust them."

Ziva remembered the team catching her before in the conference room. "I think maybe I do."


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