Chapter 5

“In revenge and in love woman is more barbaric than man is.”
~ Friedrich Nietzsche ~

Anthony, at least, had something to do. An FBI agent had shown up partway through our first morning at the safe house with a box that contained a great deal of paper. Anthony had groaned and complained and repeatedly speed-dialed Jethro to ask if he really, really had to go through all these cold cases, but deep down, I knew he was happy to have the work. He sat at the flimsy kitchen table, reading and making notes, and occasionally muttering under his breath and admonishing me to stay away from the front picture window of the suburban bungalow, without even looking up from the papers.

The only things I could do were take Lane out into the backyard to do his business and run around a little bit, try to cook with the minimal ingredients that stocked the cupboards, and read all the books in the house (there weren’t many). It had only been four days, and I was already twitchy. What if they didn’t catch him for months?

I threw myself into the chair opposite Anthony. “This is exactly why I wanted to keep driving.”

He looked up. “It’s not that bad, is it?” he asked.

I made an encompassing gesture. “Have you taken a look around? We’re stuck in a relic from the seventies, the most exciting food in the cabinets is some oregano that’s probably as old as the house, and there are only nine books in the place.”

“Yes, but I’m here,” he said with a grin.

I pointed at him. “You are good company, Anthony, but you cannot make up for the lack of reading material. You won’t even let me look at these files!”

“Classified, Jen,” he said. “You know that.”

I sighed and looked away from him. He watched me for a little while, then went back to reading the file in front of him. I drummed my fingers on the table. “Call Jethro,” I said.

He looked up, mild shock on his face. “What?”

“Call him,” I said.

“Why?”

“Call him.”

“Jeez, fine.” He picked up his cell from the table and entered the speed-dial number. Before he could put it to his ear, I reached out and snatched it from him. “Hey!”

Jethro answered quickly. “Gibbs.”

“I’m bored, Jethro.”

“Hey Tony, nice to hear from you.”

“I’m not kidding. This is worse than the summer I spent working as a typist. I’m about to start reading the phone book. Are you in the book, Jethro? Will I find your home number so I can call you day and night?”

His answer was curt. “Jen, now’s not a good time.”

I got up from the table. Anthony shook his head at me and went back to his work. “Not a good time?” I repeated. “What sort of exciting thing are you doing right now? Please, enlighten me. All I have left is the ability to live vicariously.”

“I’m in line at the coffee shop.”

“Good God, you’re actually outside? In public? Heaven forbid! And getting fresh coffee too!”

He didn’t answer, but his voice quieted as I did in fact hear him order coffee. When he came back on, he asked, “What do you want, Jen?”

“I want out of this house. Have you caught him yet?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you were close?”

“Of course I would.”

I walked into the front room, and drew back the curtains slightly to look out. “Lane needs a long run,” I said. “I’m going to take him.”

“No, you’re not.”

I dropped the curtain. “Yes, I am,” I said. “You can lock me up here, but my dog needs his exercise. This seems like a safe neighbourhood.”

“Looks can be deceiving. Stay inside.”

“Fuck you, Jethro.”

“That’s very original.”

“What can I say? Most of my students are undergrads, and they have a very limited vocabulary for profanity. It rubs off.”

“But you’re a professor.”

“You want original? Fine. Because of you, I’ve discovered what my own personal hell is. It’s being locked in a time-warped house that has no personality, no depth, no warmth, nothing.”

“It’s a safe house, Jen. It’s not supposed to be home.”

“I wasn’t finished. Another element of my hell is the complete boredom. Do you know why I went on to a PhD? It was because I wanted to spend a significant part of every day mentally stimulated. I’ve exhausted all the possibilities here. Eight of the nine books in this house are romance novels. I’ve already read them all twice. A third time, and I’m going to have to start thinking about how to write a paper on them.”

“Then you’ll be putting your time to good use, won’t you?”

“Funny. It would all be bearable if there was actually something to eat.”

“Isn’t there?”

“Do you consider Kraft Dinner and frozen entrées real food?”

“Tony does.”

“I do,” Anthony said from the kitchen.

I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked back through the entranceway at him. “You’re in this together!” I said loudly. He just smiled and wiggled his fingers at me in a jaunty wave before returning to his files. I held the phone up again. “I’m going crazy, Jethro. If things don’t happen soon, I’m going to have to do something.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Go down the block to rent a film, maybe.”

Anthony looked up at that one. “Jen–” he said.

I shook my head and waved at him. “I need books, Jethro. I need to go grocery shopping. I need to take Lane for a long walk. And he’s putting on a good show, but Anthony needs to get out too. He needs to see Kate.”

“He does, does he?” Jethro sounded amused.

Anthony shot up out of his chair and came towards me, reaching for the phone, but I held him off. “He needs someone his own age to bitch to,” I said, dancing out of reach. “I’m too old to take his complaining seriously.”

“And Kate does?”

“Of course she does. She’s–”

Anthony pushed me back onto the threadbare sofa and got the phone away from me. “Hey, Boss, how’s it going?” he said, walking back to the kitchen. I jumped up and followed him, but he broke into a bit of a jog. I gave chase, but the house was fairly small. “No, I’m fine, really. How’s the case going? Baltimore giving you any trouble?” We ended up with the kitchen table between us, and he matched my motions around it. “Uh huh… Uh huh… Well, that’s something…” Stymied, I picked up one of the files. His reaction was immediate. He made some quiet noises at me (holding the phone away from his mouth, of course), and pointed to the table. I just smiled at him and started back out to the living room. “Yeah, Boss, everything’s fine here. Jen’s just a little…” He was following me. “She’s not used to…” He reached over my shoulder for the file, and I dropped it and quickly relieved him of the phone. He seemed briefly torn between the two, but decided to pursue the file. I raised the phone.

“Jethro?” I said.

“Yes?”

“I’m– Hang on a second.” Anthony was motioning at me, a finger across his throat. I covered the mouthpiece.

“What?”

“Ixnay on Atekay, all right?” he said. “Seriously.”

I pursed my lips. He was serious. “All right,” I agreed. He nodded and went back to the kitchen. I removed my hand from the mouthpiece. “Jethro?”

“Yes, Jen?”

“Do something. Send someone. I don’t care. There’s no peace here. For either of us.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said finally.

“All right. Thanks.”

He hung up. It was a different type of man that never said goodbye. I stopped the call on my end, flipped the phone closed, and brought it back into the kitchen. Anthony reached out and took it from me when I offered it, and set it down next to his gun. I sat back down across from him. Neither of us spoke for a while.

“I don’t need to see Kate,” he said.

“Yes you do.”

He looked up. “Fine. But Gibbs doesn’t need to know.”

“You think he doesn’t know already?”

“Know what?” he asked innocently. I looked at him, shaking my head slightly. He sighed. “What was it you used to say? The world functions only because of plausible deniability?”

I laughed a little. “Okay,” I said. “I get it. Ixnay on Atekay.” I got up, came around the table, and put my hand on his shoulder, leaning down to kiss his temple. “Sorry.”

He touched my hand. “It’s okay.”

I rested my head on top of his and sighed. “I guess I can go read.”

“There is a television, you know.”

“It’s after noon, Anthony. Watching television right now would be worse than reading.”

“Then you shouldn’t be complaining.”

I wrapped my hands gently around his throat, but I was smiling when I left the kitchen. I curled up on the living room floor with Lane and a couple of the most interesting of the books in the house, and passed the afternoon reading, again. But my mind wasn’t built to handle reading the same books for the third time in four days, and by the time I finished the last one and put it down on the avocado green carpet, I was even twitchier than before. I lay there, stroking Lane’s fur for a while. “What time is it?” I called.

“Umm… Five forty four,” Anthony answered from the kitchen.

I sighed and got up. “C’mon, Lane,” I said. “Dinner.”

He knew that word; it was one of his favourites. He was up like a shot, and padded after me to the kitchen. He sat patiently as I got out his food and filled his bowl, smiling at me with his tongue lolling out and an expression of canine adoration on his face. I smiled as he dug in. At least someone was happy. As he ate, I started opening cupboards. “There has to be some way to make something not completely processed,” I said, mostly to myself.

Anthony answered anyway. “You said that last night too.”

I peeked into the freezer, but it was just as uninviting as the cupboards. I shut it and turned around, leaning against the appliance. Anthony was packing up the files; he’d obviously had enough for the day. “Lasagna. That’s what I want. With ricotta and provolone, and fresh basil, and a homemade beef… no, turkey sauce.”

“You’re just torturing yourself, Jen. Didn’t I see a frozen pizza in there? That’s Italian, sort of.”

“Exactly! Sort of!” I rubbed my forehead against the beginnings of a headache, and against my will, tears of frustration rose in my eyes. I swore softly under my breath and walked towards the kitchen doorway. I didn’t want Anthony to see them.

Too late. “Hey,” he said. His quick reflexes had him moving, and he intercepted me before I could make my escape. He wrapped me up in his arms, leaving me no choice but to accept the embrace and return it. “I know, okay? It’s all right.”

“It’s not all right,” I said, fighting the tears away. “He’s out there, and we’re prisoners.”

He didn’t deny it. He just kept holding me, and I held him, until the tears faded back and I felt a little better. Then I pulled away. “Sorry,” I said.

He put his hand to my cheek, looking at me seriously. “No, don’t be. Okay?” I smiled a little. He smiled back. “All right. How about macaroni and cheese? That’s pasta.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not pasta, that’s frosh food. Although it would be appropriate, since we’re stuck here. This place sort of reminds me of the house I rented as an undergrad.”

He grinned. “Well–”

That was when the doorbell rang. Immediately, Anthony tensed. Lane looked up from licking his bowl. His ruff bristled a little. He growled quietly and walked to my side. “Wait here,” Anthony said. He went to the kitchen table and picked up his gun. Chambering a round, he walked slowly towards the front door. Against his orders, I followed. If it was Rushfeldt…

Anthony hugged the wall, his gun held at the ready. As he came close to the door, he looked back and saw me standing in the hallway. He waved me back. I shook my head. He waved again. I mouthed ‘No’ at him. The doorbell rang a second time. His lips pulled back against his teeth, and his fingers readjusted on the gun. He turned to look at the closed door. “Who is it?” he called.

“Room service!”

Immediately, the tension that had blanketed us rushed away. Anthony rolled his eyes, took a deep breath, secured his weapon, and holstered it. “Jesus, Kate,” he said as he reached out and opened the front door, revealing the woman on the other side. “What happened to the secret knock?”

“What secret knock?” she asked, brow furrowing as she stepped over the threshold. “Here.” She handed him a white plastic bag, which looked to be full of takeout containers.

“The one you’re supposed to use!”

“You never said anything about a secret knock, Tony,” she said as she took off her shoes. “Hi Jen.” Then she clapped her hands and bent down to greet Lane, who had come up to her as soon as he’d realized who she was. “How’s Lane?” she asked him. “How’s my sweet doggie?”

Anthony closed the door and locked it. “Well, we should’ve had a secret knock,” he said. “I might’ve shot you, you know. What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Bringing you dinner,” she said, straightening up.

“Real food?” I asked, spirits soaring.

“There isn’t enough here for the three of us,” Anthony said, weighing the bag in his hands.

“No, this stuff’s just for you and me. Gibbs’ll be here soon to take Jen out. We took different routes to make sure we weren’t followed.”

We both stared at her. “Really?” I said, grinning. “Out?”

“Really?” Anthony said, his reaction decidedly less positive. “Out?”

Kate looked from me to him. “Umm, I think I’ll take this to the kitchen,” she said. She took the bag back from Anthony. “Don’t shoot Gibbs when he comes to the door, okay, Tony?” Then she beat a hasty retreat.

Anthony and I faced each other, separated by the length of the hallway. I put my hands on my hips. “What?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“That’s a load of–”

“You don’t know him, Jen, all right? I do.”

I stared at him, incredulous. “Who appointed you my protector?” I asked.

“You did,” he snapped. “When you came here.”

I stepped back. It felt like he’d hit me. From the look on his face, he was regretting the words as well. “Anthony–”

He ran a hand through his hair, then with quick steps crossed the distance between us. He took my arm firmly and led me halfway up the stairs to the second floor. We sat down on the steps, squeezing onto the same one. He laced his fingers through mine.

“Jen, I know you’re capable of making your own decisions–”

“You aren’t acting like it.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about Gibbs.”

“What do you think this is, Anthony? A date? Please.”

“Just… shut up and listen for a minute.” I frowned at him, but complied. “No, it probably isn’t a date. He’s probably going to take you to a supermarket, and someplace you can take Lane for a walk, and someplace for dinner. But he’s going to take you out.”

“And you don’t think he can protect me?”

“From Rushfeldt? Yeah. But not from himself. I saw the way he looked at you. Gibbs isn’t casual about anything, Jen.”

“Neither am I, if you stop to remember.”

“Did you know he’s been married three times?”

“I did.”

He was surprised. “You did?”

“Yes. I asked him. He told me.” He blinked, that train of thought obviously derailed. I pressed on. “Anthony, I’m not some wide-eyed debutante. I’ve been around the block a few times. I appreciate your concern, But it wouldn’t matter to me if he were… I don’t know, Vlad the Impaler. I need to take Lane for a walk, and I need groceries. I don’t care who’s taking me outside. I can handle myself.”

“Jen–”

“No, Anthony. You’re out of line.” I stood up and started down the steps, but he refused to relinquish my hand. I had to turn back and look at him.

“I don’t want to see you get hurt again,” he said plainly. “That’s all.”

My frustration eased a little. With my free hand, I rubbed my knuckles lightly on his cheek. “I know,” I said. “But you have to trust me. You do, don’t you?”

He looked up at me, as if judging. “I do,” he said finally.

“Then it’s all right. I’m not going to get hurt.”

He didn’t get the chance to say anything else; the doorbell rang again. We both turned. With a decided air of resignation, Anthony dropped my hand and pulled his gun. Standing, he walked down the steps. “Who is it?”

“Open the door, Tony.” Anthony holstered his weapon again and did as requested. Jethro came inside. He looked at me as I came down the steps, but didn’t make any other acknowledgement. “Is Kate here yet?”

“Yes,” Kate said, appearing from the kitchen. She was wiping her hands on the kitchen towel.

“Where’s your car?”

“Two blocks north and three blocks west,” she said. “I walked here through the alleys.”

Jethro nodded his approval. “Good. Come on, Doctor.”

“Where are you going?” Anthony asked abruptly.

I said his name quietly, but he ignored me. His attention was focused on Jethro. I sighed and went to the hall closet. A heavy silence permeated the hallway as I put on my coat and shoes, and put Lane’s leash in my pocket. Anthony repeated his question.

“Out,” Jethro answered. His voice was low and quiet.

“I mean, specifically,” Anthony said.

“Is that any of your business, DiNozzo?”

“Actually, yes, it is.”

“Oh for heaven’s sakes,” I muttered under my breath, then raised my voice to normal levels. “Jethro, just tell him, all right? Lane, come.” I walked back towards the two men by the front door, Lane beside me. I could practically smell the testosterone in the air. Trying to be the voice of reason, I planted myself beside the two of them. “Just tell him,” I said again.

Jethro glanced at me without moving his head, then looked back at Anthony. “Bookstore,” he said. “A park. Somewhere to eat. A supermarket.”

“A bookstore?” I said, nearly forgetting their conflict in my eagerness. “Really?”

“That’s not quite specific enough.”

I rolled my eyes and turned to tell Anthony to let it go, but Jethro was faster. “I can’t get any more specific, DiNozzo. I don’t know where we’re going yet, or how long we’ll be driving around first. I don’t want to pick up a tail.”

Anthony pursed his lips. “When will you be back?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Are you giving me a curfew?”

I had never heard a tone more dangerous, not in all my life, not even from Rushfeldt. I responded immediately. I physically stepped between them, put my hands on Anthony’s shoulders, and leaned in to whisper quietly in his ear, so no one else could hear. “Stop, Anthony,” I ordered. “Go have dinner with Kate. I’ll bring you back a book. Kama Sutra, maybe? Or Fanny Hill? Something to help you pass the time?” When I pulled back, he was blushing a little. He didn’t look me in the eye, but he nodded. “All right then,” I said. “Jethro, let’s go. See you later, Kate.”

“Bye, Jen.”

“I think–”

I snapped. “Jethro. Let’s go.”

I opened the door and walked out, Lane at my heels. I knew he wouldn’t let me go far alone, no matter what he wanted to say to Anthony, and I was right. I had hardly reached the end of the walkway when the door to the house closed and I heard his footsteps on the cement behind me. I turned around. “Where’s your car?”

“Left,” he said. Without waiting for him, I turned and went in that direction. It didn’t take him long to catch up to me. I was still fuming, and so was he, so we walked side by side in silence. We made a few more turns, and then Jethro took a set of keys out of his pocket and pressed a button on the remote. Up ahead, a car’s headlights flashed as the doors unlocked. Still without speaking, I put Lane in the backseat. Jethro waited to get in until I had my dog secured and opened the passenger door. When we were both inside with seatbelts fastened, he started up the car and pulled out onto the street.

We drove. I don’t think even he knew where we were going. He’d randomly make turns, taking major roads and cutting through subdivisions, until I had no idea where we were in relation to anything at all. I didn’t much care; this was his show, after all. As long as we got to stop sometime. And through it all, we didn’t speak.

It must have been approaching an hour of driving when I saw a park out the window. “Pull over,” I said.

Even after so long in silence, he didn’t seem surprised at the interruption. “Now?”

“Yes, now.”

The tires squealed a little as he pulled quickly into the curb. I got out before he turned the car off, and released Lane from the backseat. He jumped onto the sidewalk and sat down to wait. Jethro got out, shut his door, and locked the car. I nodded and set off into the dark. “Lane, go,” I said, and, released from having to stay close to me, he went, loping ahead of us but always staying in sight. Jethro fell into step beside me, and we followed Lane into the park.

We still stayed quiet, until we were surrounded by the dark, even out of the reach of the streetlights. Then Jethro said, “You’re protecting him.”

“Yes, I am. Leave him alone, Jethro.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You can. I’m asking you to.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Oh, yes it is,” I snapped, looking over at him. I could see little of his expression in the moonlight, but what I did see was mule-stubborn. “You think he was questioning your authority? God, Jethro, that’s the last thing any of them would do!”

“What do you call it, then?”

“Have you ever had a friend that you would do anything for? That you would look out for no matter what it forced you to do?”

He looked at me, and his response was laden with sarcasm. “I was a Marine. What do you think?”

Of course. “Fine. Then you know Anthony’s motivation. So leave him alone. What happened back there wasn’t about him and you. It was about him and me. Leave it between us.”

“He brought me into it–”

I made a wordless noise of frustration and broke into a run. I didn’t really care about staying close to him anymore, if he was going to be that way. I saw Lane ahead, stopping to look back. He saw me running and came back, circling around me and then galloping off ahead before spinning around and repeating the process. I found myself smiling. He was having such a good time…

I heard Jethro’s steps behind me, but I wasn’t ready to face him yet, so I sped up a little. He kept pace, but didn’t try to stop me. After a while, I came upon a paved path, and passed over it in favour of the grass, following Lane further into the park. “Hey,” Jethro said behind me. I ignored him. “Jen,” he said, and this time I heard him put on an extra burst of speed. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to a halt. I broke his grip quickly, but he reestablished it, this time with both hands on my arms. I broke it again

And then we were fighting. Just a little, for dominance or control or both, and without any intention of hurting one another, but fighting nonetheless.

Damn, he was good. I thought it would have been bad to tackle Mendes in a dark alley. It would have been pure terror to tackle Jethro.

I heard Lane bark, uncertain about what was happening. “Settle,” I commanded him as I blocked Jethro’s attempt to throw me off-balance. It had been a feint, and he came around my parry. I swept away from him, but he followed. In another few moves, he got a hand on me, and before I could break away, he’d drawn me forward into him. My upper arms were pinned beneath his in the clinch, and I thought I saw a bit of a triumphant gleam in his eyes. But his attempt to remain steady on the slightly uneven ground left him open, and my forearms were still free. I grabbed hold of his belt at the back, and brought one leg up between his, without pressure. We stopped moving. Between the run and the scuffle, we were both breathing a little harder, and his chest moved against mine, out of synch. Even in the dim light of the half-moon, his eyes captivated me. I was drowning, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“Draw?” he said finally.

“Okay,” I agreed, and lowered my leg. But I didn’t let go of his belt, because he didn’t let go of me.

“I’ll forget about Tony.”

“Thank you.”

“Can we start over?”

“Sure, if you let me go.” He didn’t, but he did adjust his grip so it was less of a pin and more of an embrace. I loosened my fingers on his belt. Our breathing slowed, fell into time. I had to try to look away. I knew that. But damned if I could. Was this how a cobra hypnotized its meals? He wanted to kiss me, didn’t he? He was going to try. I couldn’t wait… No, I couldn’t let him. Not now. Not like this. My heartbeat sped up, and my breath hitched a little. “Jethro, let me go.”

This time he did. I took a step back, then another. I closed my eyes for a second to clear my head. Then I knelt down and let Lane come over to me, reassuring him with murmured words and scratches behind the ears.

With my dog taken care of, I stood up and looked at Jethro. He was waiting patiently. Whatever had risen between us was still there, but harnessed now. But something had changed. I could feel it in the set of his body, standing there in the dimness. I could feel it in the way I was looking at him.

When he saw my focus return to him, he said, “I’d like to take you out for dinner.”

He’d been serious about starting over. I smiled. “Have any place in mind?”

“Not yet. We’ll see what we come across.” In unspoken agreement, we turned and started back the way we’d come. Lane stuck close to me. “I was also thinking we could stop by Borders or something.”

I reached over and took his hand, sliding my fingers between his. He let me. Hands intertwined, we kept walking. “Throw in a trip to the grocery store, and you’ve got a deal,” I said.

He smiled at me, and his grip tightened a little. “I think I can manage that,” he said.