A massive thank you has to go to Zivacentric for allowing me to play in her sandbox here :). For anyone who hasn't read her story 'Heat' - GO READ IT! Apart from the fact it's a fantastic story (and one of my favourites), the first chapter or so of this one won't make much sense without it. I've put a link to it on my profile page or, of course, you can find it through Zivacentric's.

I've picked up essentially where 'Heat' left off, with the promise of Ziva visiting Jenny in DC just a couple of weeks after Jenny left Israel. It's an idea that has been brewing with me for a while - ever since I first read 'Heat', in fact. I'm really grateful to have the chance to take it on, and I hope I've come close to doing the original story justice. Would love to hear what you think, but I hope you enjoy x

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, or anything to do with NCIS.

Jenny Shepard waited impatiently as the elevator clanked its way up from the ground floor, tapping her fingers on the large leather handbag that was slung over her shoulder. The maintenance that was supposed to have been done over the weekend seemed to have actually made things worse, and she began to wish she had taken the stairs. At this rate, she would be lucky to make it to her desk by nine although, she thought, as she adjusted her grey jacket, it wasn't as if she had that much to do when she got there. The week since her return from Israel had been a quiet one, for which she was grateful, but now she was beginning to wish for something, anything, to make the coming week go a bit quicker. The snail-like pace of the elevator was not a good omen.

Finally alighting on the second floor, Jenny swiftly crossed the open plan office and headed towards the counter-terrorism section where her desk, a half-finished report and a half-empty coffee cup from last night awaited her. Disposing of the cup in the nearest bin, she shrugged out of her jacket and flicked the switch on the back of the computer, waiting until the monitor wheezed into life before she sat down. Then, as she had done every morning for the past week, she opened the top drawer of her desk to reveal a jumble of personal items – tissues, odd bits of make up, an old magazine – and picked out a single photo from the haphazard pile. She was still gazing at it two minutes later, a small smile on her face, when a beep from her computer indicated that her emails had finished downloading.

'Hmmm, foxy'.

Jenny jumped at the sound of the appreciative voice beside her ear, and threw the photo back into the drawer, closing it with a decisive slam. Spinning around on her chair, she glared at the tall, dark-haired man who was standing close behind her and grinning at her reaction.

'Piss off, Decker'.

The smile just grew wider.

'And back off'. Jenny swung back round to face her computer. 'There is such a thing as personal space, and you're dangerously close to invading it'.

She didn't have to look behind her to know that he hadn't moved, and she smirked to herself. This was how it was with William Decker. Banter, teasing, playfights...until things got serious in the field. Then, she knew, he would have her back covered, and she would do the same for him.

'So who is she?' Decker, instead of moving further away, simply turned round to perch on the edge of Jenny's desk, unwrapping a greasy package as he did so. It smelled suspiciously like a breakfast burrito from the canteen, and Jenny wrinkled her nose as he took a large, enthusiastic bite.

'Do you have to?'

'Bre-fah. Bain nee ood'.

Jenny raised her eyebrows as Decker attempted to speak through a mouthful of rubbery sausage and egg. Seeing her look, he swallowed hard and took a breath before translating his previous words.

'It's breakfast. Brain food. You should try it'.

'My brain works perfectly well without that crap, thank you'.

'So she's the Mossad agent?'

Jenny sighed and leaned back in her chair, turning slightly to face him and realising that he didn't seem to be in the mood to give up. In many ways, she counted herself lucky that she hadn't been given the third degree until now. Decker was, unsurprisingly, curious about how her assignment abroad had gone, and what she had done with the month of leave she had unexpectedly taken afterwards. But he had obviously decided to give her a break for her first week back, until he considered that a reasonable amount of time had elapsed.

'Yes. We worked together on the mission in Cairo. Satisfied?'

'Nope'. Decker finished his so-called breakfast, and Jenny scowled as he lobbed the wrapper into her bin. 'Doesn't explain why you have that photo. Or why you look at it like a lovestruck teenager every day'.

Jenny's scowl turned into a murderous glare that would have served to warn anyone else that they were approaching an invisible line, and that it might be safest not to cross it. Decker, however, merely gave her a mildly inquisitive look before gesturing to the delicate gold necklace that hung underneath the collar of her green blouse.

'And that'.

'What about it?'

Jenny instinctively raised her hand to the tiny Star of David pendant, and groaned inwardly as she saw the smugly satisfied look on his face.

'She gave it to you'.

It wasn't a question, and Jenny sighed, shaking her head. Once Decker got going there was no putting him off.

'Yes, she gave it to me. Are you happy now?'

Decker nodded and pushed himself off the desk, smirking down at his partner as he headed back to his own place opposite.

'For now'.

Jenny returned to her computer screen, unwilling to let Decker see the smile that was creeping around her lips as she thought about the woman in the photo. Ziva David had come into her life when she was least expecting it, had turned her upside down and inside out, and left Jenny reeling from emotions that she had never known it was possible to feel. They had worked together seamlessly on their joint operation in Cairo, and connected intimately as lovers for the month afterwards when Jenny had stayed in Israel. It had been the happiest few weeks that she could remember, and leaving had been one of the hardest things she had ever had to do.

Now, though, she had only five more days until Ziva was due to visit Washington, and they would have another two weeks together. Jenny's smile grew broader as she realised that soon she would stop counting the days and would be counting the hours instead, waiting for Ziva to step off the plane. Email and telephone conversations, she had decided, just weren't the same.

Pulling the folder containing the report towards her, she thought it was maybe just as well if she had another reasonably quiet week. It would give her time to plan and daydream about what she hoped would be a special few days.

'Shit'.

Decker's curse earned him a glare from the NCIS Director and a raised eyebrow from Jenny, although privately she didn't think she could have put it any better herself. She and Decker had returned from their separate lunches to find old mission reports stacked up on their desks, and the Director in the middle of writing a scribbled note asking them to start inputting them into the computer system. Just from glancing at the tottering pile, Jenny estimated hers alone would take ten days of solid computer work. Decker, she thought, had it right. Shit indeed.

'If you would rather, Agent Decker, there's an even bigger pile of foreign reports over in storage that need to be sorted and distributed to the relevant regional desks for assessment and inputting. I could always arrange for you to do that instead?'

Decker grimaced at the Director, and shook his head. Even a stint of data inputting was better than a trip to the file storage area. Jenny smirked as she remembered the last time he had been down there. He had come back two hours later covered in dust and sneezing...although she had never been entirely convinced it wasn't all an act.

'Good'. Director Morrow's tone was brisk, sharp, leaving Decker in no doubt that he had given the correct answer. 'In which case, I'll leave you to it'.

As Jenny sat down and gazed at the worn, faded folders in front of her, wondering where on earth to begin, she began to regret her earlier wish for a busier week. Whichever genie she had inadvertently woken up had gone above and beyond the call of duty with this one. She sighed, noticing that Decker was still looking mutinous, but pulled the top folder towards her and opened it reluctantly. There was nothing for it but to work through them, and hope something else came along that would require their attention sooner rather than later.

This time, unfortunately, her wish did not come true. The only good thing was that she was able to leave the office at a reasonable hour, since the paperwork wasn't vitally important and did not warrant either her or Decker staying late. They both had their computers switched off and gear collected by six on the dot and, although Jenny was tempted by his offer of a drink and a burger with some of the guys from the case teams, she declined in favour of heading home for an early night. An afternoon spent hunched over folders at her desk had done nothing for her back and shoulders, and, as she said goodbye to her partner at the front entrance and headed towards the car park, she thought that a glass of wine and a hot bath sounded perfect. She didn't have much food in, but she couldn't be bothered with grocery shopping tonight. There were times when even a cheese toastie was fine for dinner...and tonight was one of those times.

Jenny quickly remembered, however, that the downside of leaving work on time was that everyone else in the city – or so it seemed – was doing the same thing. The roads were snarled with traffic, and the journey that she knew could be done in twenty minutes took her almost an hour and a half. By the time she reached the Georgetown townhouse that was home, she was hungry, irritated, had a headache to match her backache, and was wondering if she shouldn't have gone with Decker after all. He would probably have continued his interrogation of her over her time in Israel and her relationship with Ziva, but at least she would have had something halfway decent to eat. And the roads later on would have been far more conducive to actually driving. Still, she thought, slamming the car door and locking it with the remote on the key fob, too late now.

She was so preoccupied with her nightmare journey that she didn't notice the light shining from her kitchen window until she was almost at the front door, and she stopped, every nerve suddenly on alert despite her tiredness. She had a housekeeper – Noemie – but she wouldn't still be here at this time, and she would never have left the kitchen lights blazing. Reaching slowly into her handbag, she pulled out her handgun and rested her other hand on the front door handle. It was unlocked.

Her heart pounding, Jenny slipped into the hallway and moved towards the kitchen, thankful for the thick patterned rug on the wooden floor that muffled her footsteps. She felt absurdly panicky. She was an armed federal agent, for God's sake...but somehow it felt different in your own home, a fact she had not appreciated before. It wasn't until she was almost at the kitchen door that she registered a sound coming from inside the room, and she paused, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Burglars, kidnappers and assassins did not play music as they went about their business, and certainly not her favourite late-night-jazz music. And, now that she had stopped to concentrate for a moment, she detected a wonderful smell coming from the same place. Burglars, kidnappers and assassins did not stop to cook themselves dinner, either. But if it wasn't a burglar, kidnapper or assassin – and, Jenny had to admit, any of those would probably have been pretty unlikely – she had no idea who it could be. She quietly pushed open the door to the kitchen, her gun raised just in case, but she almost dropped it in shock at the sight in front of her.

The table in the centre of the large, well-equipped kitchen was laid for two, with glasses of wine already poured and a small bouquet of burnt-orange roses in a clear glass vase placed on one side. The music that had been so faint in the hallway was slightly louder in here, but not so loud that Jenny missed the sound of the fridge door opening and closing in the corner. She swung round, and her mouth dropped open.

'What the hell...?'

'Not exactly the response I was hoping for, but understandable'.

The dark haired woman turned around, a bag of tomatoes in her hand, and Jenny was faced with the same slow, sexy smile and warm brown eyes that had reduced her knees to jelly the first time she had seen them at Ben Gurion airport in Israel almost six weeks before. Tonight, caught off guard again, they were having exactly the same effect.

'I would put that down before you drop it'. Ziva gestured to Jenny's gun with an amused twinkle. 'And Jen...?'

It was all Jenny could do to raise one eyebrow. She didn't trust herself to speak, and it seemed her legs were incapable of carrying her anywhere at the moment.

'You need to go shopping'.