Just to get her riled up.
Clarke wasn't going home for Thanksgiving this year. His father hadn't been able to get off work so his family had decided to wait until Hanukkah and Christmas to do their festive thing. Clarke would also try to get up there before then if he could, at least overnight. He wanted to see his family but he was actually relieved not to be going home right now. He was not exactly keen on the idea of introducing his family to the security detail on his back.
He left work at 4, Abby had insisted he leave early after putting in all those extra hours working on the murder of the little boy. He walked by Jen's office on the way out, not knowing why or what he wanted to say to her. He was met by Cynthia's glare and decided to keep moving. He wasn't sure what to make of Gibbs's transfer to California. He's sure no one can whip a department into shape better than Gibbs, yet he's sure Tony could have done it just the same and everyone knows he's due for a promotion. Something must have happen between Jen and Gibbs, something that allowed a corner to be turned. Otherwise she would have tortured him by not letting him have the transfer to Heather.
He had no right to ask Jen or Gibbs about it. It wasn't his business no matter how curious he was. He figured he'd stop speculating and let her come to him if she wanted to talk about it. In the meantime he had to figure out what to do with himself for four days. As he rode home he tried to think of everything he might want to do that didn't involve Jen. Obviously, he wanted to see her. He knew he'd never make it through the weekend without at least contacting her. He was pretty sure she wasn't going to be calling him. For one thing whatever had happened with Gibbs might still be weighing on her. She also probably had her own Thanksgiving plans.
Clarke's security detail waved to him once he got off the train. He rolled his eyes and waved back. The man was the most obnoxious detail there was; he might as well have been wearing an "I'm a security detail" t-shirt. Not only was he inconspicuous, he obviously didn't have experience watching a pedestrian. Clarke wasn't sure but he didn't think the security detail handbook actually instructed the detail to keep his sedan moving at the exact pace Clarke walked, right next to the sidewalk. If the handbook allowed it, DC traffic certainly didn't. Angry car horns honked behind him until he finally gave up and cut through some back alleys and parks to get to his building.
As expected, his security detail was no where to be found once he was home. He entered his building, unlocked his door, and promptly collapsed on his couch. He took a few minutes to consider the weekend again. He'd probably hang out with Sam at some point, maybe go to a movie. Hopefully his security detail liked the Muppets. He woke up 4 hours later, disoriented because he didn't expect to sleep so long. He stood up and stretched and was immediately greeted by a familiar face leaning against his kitchen counter. His first thought was that Mr. security detail was officially useless. His second was that Emile Renior must have been getting tired of waiting.
"Ah, you're awake, Monsieur Banks," His thin features curved into a cocky smile. Clarke felt around for his cell phone but couldn't find it. Le Tetard held it up. "Looking for zhis? You zon't be needing it right now."
Clarke's phone was then tossed in his sink amongst dirty dishes. Having shown up while Clarke was sleeping and now taking away his best shot at calling for help, Emile certainly had the upper hand. Clarke was fully awake now though and approached the Frenchman. "Okay, you took my phone. I can't call the police, I can't call NCIS. What do you want from me?"
"Oh but zit's not you zhat Zi want," Emile met him in the middle of the room and nailed him with a solid right hook that seemed to come from nowhere. "Zit zis your beautiful Jenny, like zit zas been all along."
"By order of your girlfriend, right? You're just her puppy dog, do what she asks in exchange for a pat on the head. Good boy Emile. Good boy." Clarke narrowed his eyes, rubbing his now sore jaw. He really hadn't been expecting the first punch but after those taunts he was less surprised by the next hit which busted his lip. "How is giving me a fat lip going to bring you closer to Jenny?"
"You really have to ask about zhis?" Emile's smile was bigger now. Before Clarke could back away, Emile struck him quick with double jab to the cheek and third to his left eye, leaving Clarke on the ground with the beginnings of a big blue shiner. "I have been watching you for longer than you know. I am aware of your falling out with Jenny. I am aware of mistakes both of you have made."
Clarke started to get up but Emile kicked him back down and stood over him. "Zou underestimate how much you still mean to Jenny, Monsieur Banks."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Clarke tried to get up again just to be met with another swift kick to the head. He was dizzy now, Emile wouldn't have to do much for him to pass out. Emile just smiled more. He wasn't here to kill the kid, just make give him some makeup to anger Jen enough to get her to confront him. Then the real fun would start.
"Zou don't honestly believe she talks to just anyone the way zhe way she talks to you? Zou think she really has forgotten you just because she's pushed zou away? Zou are a fool then, Monsieur Banks. Zou are her, how do they say, soft spot. Just right to pick and poke until she gives in."
Clarke manages to stand up again but after that statement he just stares. While he takes a second to wonder how true that is, he's met a powerful undercut sending him back to the floor. Advantage Emile. Emile laughs. Clarke holds his aching jaw. By the time he can stand up again 10 seconds later, The Tadpole is gone. Clarke wants to scream because he doesn't even know how this happened. How did Renior get in his apartment? How did he get out of his apartment for that matter? Was this really just to get Jen riled up? Why now then?
He retrieved his cell phone and sent Jen a quick text.
We need to talk. Are you home?
He left work at 4, Abby had insisted he leave early after putting in all those extra hours working on the murder of the little boy. He walked by Jen's office on the way out, not knowing why or what he wanted to say to her. He was met by Cynthia's glare and decided to keep moving. He wasn't sure what to make of Gibbs's transfer to California. He's sure no one can whip a department into shape better than Gibbs, yet he's sure Tony could have done it just the same and everyone knows he's due for a promotion. Something must have happen between Jen and Gibbs, something that allowed a corner to be turned. Otherwise she would have tortured him by not letting him have the transfer to Heather.
He had no right to ask Jen or Gibbs about it. It wasn't his business no matter how curious he was. He figured he'd stop speculating and let her come to him if she wanted to talk about it. In the meantime he had to figure out what to do with himself for four days. As he rode home he tried to think of everything he might want to do that didn't involve Jen. Obviously, he wanted to see her. He knew he'd never make it through the weekend without at least contacting her. He was pretty sure she wasn't going to be calling him. For one thing whatever had happened with Gibbs might still be weighing on her. She also probably had her own Thanksgiving plans.
Clarke's security detail waved to him once he got off the train. He rolled his eyes and waved back. The man was the most obnoxious detail there was; he might as well have been wearing an "I'm a security detail" t-shirt. Not only was he inconspicuous, he obviously didn't have experience watching a pedestrian. Clarke wasn't sure but he didn't think the security detail handbook actually instructed the detail to keep his sedan moving at the exact pace Clarke walked, right next to the sidewalk. If the handbook allowed it, DC traffic certainly didn't. Angry car horns honked behind him until he finally gave up and cut through some back alleys and parks to get to his building.
As expected, his security detail was no where to be found once he was home. He entered his building, unlocked his door, and promptly collapsed on his couch. He took a few minutes to consider the weekend again. He'd probably hang out with Sam at some point, maybe go to a movie. Hopefully his security detail liked the Muppets. He woke up 4 hours later, disoriented because he didn't expect to sleep so long. He stood up and stretched and was immediately greeted by a familiar face leaning against his kitchen counter. His first thought was that Mr. security detail was officially useless. His second was that Emile Renior must have been getting tired of waiting.
"Ah, you're awake, Monsieur Banks," His thin features curved into a cocky smile. Clarke felt around for his cell phone but couldn't find it. Le Tetard held it up. "Looking for zhis? You zon't be needing it right now."
Clarke's phone was then tossed in his sink amongst dirty dishes. Having shown up while Clarke was sleeping and now taking away his best shot at calling for help, Emile certainly had the upper hand. Clarke was fully awake now though and approached the Frenchman. "Okay, you took my phone. I can't call the police, I can't call NCIS. What do you want from me?"
"Oh but zit's not you zhat Zi want," Emile met him in the middle of the room and nailed him with a solid right hook that seemed to come from nowhere. "Zit zis your beautiful Jenny, like zit zas been all along."
"By order of your girlfriend, right? You're just her puppy dog, do what she asks in exchange for a pat on the head. Good boy Emile. Good boy." Clarke narrowed his eyes, rubbing his now sore jaw. He really hadn't been expecting the first punch but after those taunts he was less surprised by the next hit which busted his lip. "How is giving me a fat lip going to bring you closer to Jenny?"
"You really have to ask about zhis?" Emile's smile was bigger now. Before Clarke could back away, Emile struck him quick with double jab to the cheek and third to his left eye, leaving Clarke on the ground with the beginnings of a big blue shiner. "I have been watching you for longer than you know. I am aware of your falling out with Jenny. I am aware of mistakes both of you have made."
Clarke started to get up but Emile kicked him back down and stood over him. "Zou underestimate how much you still mean to Jenny, Monsieur Banks."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Clarke tried to get up again just to be met with another swift kick to the head. He was dizzy now, Emile wouldn't have to do much for him to pass out. Emile just smiled more. He wasn't here to kill the kid, just make give him some makeup to anger Jen enough to get her to confront him. Then the real fun would start.
"Zou don't honestly believe she talks to just anyone the way zhe way she talks to you? Zou think she really has forgotten you just because she's pushed zou away? Zou are a fool then, Monsieur Banks. Zou are her, how do they say, soft spot. Just right to pick and poke until she gives in."
Clarke manages to stand up again but after that statement he just stares. While he takes a second to wonder how true that is, he's met a powerful undercut sending him back to the floor. Advantage Emile. Emile laughs. Clarke holds his aching jaw. By the time he can stand up again 10 seconds later, The Tadpole is gone. Clarke wants to scream because he doesn't even know how this happened. How did Renior get in his apartment? How did he get out of his apartment for that matter? Was this really just to get Jen riled up? Why now then?
He retrieved his cell phone and sent Jen a quick text.
We need to talk. Are you home?