Codename: Kryptonite

Chapter Eleven

She dropped the hem of her dress, and it floated back into place caressing the tops of her thighs. "I'm sure I could grow one before you can get rid of that arrogance." There was no humor in her voice, no trace of amusement in her eyes.

Blue eyes twinkled, even crinkling at the corners. "But, you are gonna work on it, right?"

"I never said that." One auburn eyebrow rose tugging with it the left corner of her full lips.

"Great! I love winning," he crowed, his voice full of smug male arrogance.

"Knowing what you're like 26 years from now? Na, I've got time."

"Ah," Jon nodded slightly in acknowledgment of her wit. "Zinger. Straight, perfect spiral, hard in the chest." He put his hand over his heart as if rubbing it from the sting of her words.

"I see you've always made football references."

"Always." He nodded to emphasize his statement.

He lost her attention then, her eyes quickly scanning the room. Clearly, she'd dismissed him.

"Look. In a perfect situation, I'd have back-up that could stay with you while I go out for a few minutes. But, this is far from a perfect situation." She walked toward the entryway.

He watched her graceful strides, the gentle sway of her hips. When she bent over to retrieve her shoes, his body's natural reaction to hers was no big surprise. However, her next words were like a bucket of ice water in the face.

"While I'm gone," she said as she turned back to face him and slip on her shoes. "Try not to get dead, k?"

With the quiet hum of the elevator accompanying her to the lobby of his building, the deer-in-the-headlights look on Jon's face as she'd closed his front door kept a smile on her face. In her time, it was rare that she got one over on him, but when she did it was definitely something worth savoring.

The soft ding as the elevator doors slid open snapped her back to attention. With instincts honed over years of training, she quickly and cautiously scanned the room. It was more than second nature to her. It was survival of the fittest.

She noticed every little detail as she made her way to the vacant loft across the street, where she'd set up a temporary 'safe house' to be able to keep tabs on her charge until she'd been able to make contact. It's where she'd stashed the few pieces of clothing she'd accumulated since arriving in 2003 and the cache of weapons she'd amassed as well. The few things she'd brought with her from the future were in the small purse that matched her evening gown. Two of those things she couldn't afford to let out of her sight, the other she kept close for sentimental reasons.

When she reached the door of the loft, she carefully checked the booby traps she'd put in place to let her know if someone had entered it since she'd left. She slipped into the room and leaned back against the door.

He'd tried to warn her. He'd told her that he'd mellowed with age, that this younger self was almost a different person. She'd scoffed at him.

She could almost hear the "I told ya so, Gabbs."

Before she'd left to attend the dinner with Mr. Gore, she'd made sure everything was safely stowed away in her go bag, except the change of clothes she'd left out. Quickly, she changed into the jeans and heather gray t-shirt. Once she was fully clothed, she slipped her gun into the waist band of her jeans so that it rested comfortably in the small of her back and pulled the shirt down over it. Then, she put her spare weapon in a holster around her right ankle, before pulling on sneakers.

While she was stuffing the dress and heels into her bag, the black composition notebook she had picked up two days ago fell out. She had always hated having to keep a mission log because it wasn't something she needed to do to be able to write up her EOM (end of mission) report that would be sent to her superiors, but it was regulation, so she'd complied. This time she hadn't intended to keep a log, since there weren't any superiors that even needed a report. But, habit was habit. Maybe, she'd do it after all, as a sort of historical record of what she was doing so that some future agency could point out all the ways she screwed up. A wry smile lifted the corners of her lips as she shoved the notebook back into her bag.

The last thing she did after emptying the little purse and stowing the items in her bag, was slip the necklace over her head. The chunk of titanium found it's usual resting place between her breasts. Immediately, the memory played like a movie in her head.

It had been her first day back on duty since the shooting. She'd taken a bullet in the line of duty, a bullet meant for him. He'd called her into the Oval Office to personally thank her for her service. It had only been later, once they were completely alone, and with no chance of prying eyes that he'd given her the gift. At first, she'd reminded him that she couldn't accept it, and explained protocol that he was already familiar with. But, he'd managed to convince her to take it.

She'd asked how he'd gotten his hands on the piece of metal the surgeon had dug out of her chest, just millimeters from her left lung. "I've got my ways," he told her with a sheepish grin.

It was really just a simple little gift, just the piece of titanium with her name and the date engraved on it, hanging from a long platinum chain that allowed it to rest close to the scar where it had went into her body, that she couldn't see any harm in accepting it.

Her fingers had rubbed back and forth over the letters carved into the slug as he'd smiled and pointed out, "It's so you'll always have the bullet with your name on it. Now, this can't ever happen again."

"It was really a bullet with YOUR name on it," she'd pointed out.

"I know that, and you know that," he told her, smiling, "but, if I'd put my name on it, we couldn't have kept it our little secret now could we?"

Knowing him like she did, she had been able to see the guilt in his eyes. He'd always had a problem with the thought that someone might have to take a bullet for him. They both were fully aware that whether the bullet was meant for him or not, it had hit her and been just millimeters away from ending her life. So, regardless how she joked about it now, it had indeed been a bullet with her name on it.