Harry Potter, NCIS In the Mist

**A/N: **This is my first X-over fic (not counting NCIS: LA and NCIS) to be published. I haven't finished it, so you readers can come up with ideas to the storyline, the plot and maybe some wishes for scenes. I listen to your reviews more than you can imagine. It may seem surreal and I know, but school really doesn't allow time to use the imagination properly besides to draw in math classes. Therefore, I'm trying something else. Don't worry, I will come back and publish more NCIS.

Also, I want to thank my beloved friend, Amanda (FFN: _the big black hole_, no stories, though) for being so obsessed with Harry Potter and that universe so her mind messed with my NCIS occupied thoughts. I need a break from the crazy ideas, I get to my fifty-some stories. She has been pushing me over the edge into writing a HP fic because she is a fan, I'm automatically a fan, too - yes, she is a mad hatter (Alice in Wonderland reference, she loves the crazy stuff) - but I love the books, too, which I prefer over the movies, but I haven't even started the story, we are planning, so now I'm on a compromise. X-over!

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_In the Mist_

"Lost"

Chapter 1

The dry leaves crunched under her weight as she disappeared through the forest. Her pace grew for every step, she took, or rather, jumped. She felt wind brush against her body as she pushed herself to the limit, the sound of a speeding car growing farer away. She didn't stop though, afraid that her followers might have abandoned the blue van and decided to track her down on foot. The icy air made her lungs scream, but she was too concentrated to even consider opening her mouth and make a sound that might compromise her position. The English woods surrounded her and gave her comfort enough to slow her pace to a mild jog. She breathed out, her fingers fumbling after her backup on the left leg in the ankle holster. The wide jeans' legs made it possible to hide a gun there and the Smith and Wesson, she hid there was excellent as a backup. Unfortunately, her usual weaponry was minimum at now as it had been the last four months.

The knife concealed on her hip was slowly cutting its way through her blouse and making red marks on her olive skin. She didn't slow down for that reason, but stubbornly continued to walk with rapid steps, her mind occupied with decisions of an escape plan. She had managed to get away after killing three of the terrorists, but two were now tracking her down, intending to kill her in cold blood for deceiving them. She'd screwed up and she as well aware of it, but knew that she had to finish the mission and perform the orders before she could return to head quarters. How she could come close enough to kill them, was what she now planned.

Without noticing, she slowed herself down from exhaustion caused by the fie mile run, she'd run before she compromised herself and been forced to kill two members of the cell as the last two started chasing her half through the neighborhood. About thirty minutes ago, she had reached the forest and had now been running for an hour. The cool air surrounded her and she was now cold and sweaty. The jumper around her torso didn't help much due to the harsh spring weather this year. Her teeth clattered and she mentally cursed herself from not planning it properly. She had been foolish to go so deep into the forest. There was at least three miles to civilization and she was tired despite her excellent shape and survival training. She had been stupid enough to use all of her energy and hadn't spared any to run home. She sniffed out in the freezing air and sighed when she smelled the rain coming. Looking up, she recognized the dark clouds and immediately tensed.

She hated rain. It never rained in her homeland and she couldn't adapt into the lesser well weathers in the Europe. She didn't look forward to being soaked into the bone and shivered already. Her fuchsia jumper was moist from the cold and the sweat. The black running pants were tight around her thighs and exposed all from her knees to her sneakers, now scratched and grazed by branches and other plants in the lower forest. The once white blouse, she knew was dirty after nearly running into a tree. Around her wrist sat a bracelet, a gift from her brother, which she wore with discretion. The topaz shined beside the silver and made her skin glow, hiding the small surgical scar under it.

She sneezed at the exact moment, the raindrops began to fall. she began trotting to warm herself, yet everything began to blur around her. She focused and stubbornly continued to keep her pace. She stumbled three times in the next ten minutes before she reached a clearing, though it wasn't much of a clearing when the black sky covered everything in a layer of semi-darkness. It would have been depressing if she hadn't been trained in survival by her father, who knew no mercy. Her mind tried to stage the scene of her returning without having eliminated the cell, but the thought was unbearable. She would be disowned if she returned before having eliminated the whole terrorist cell.

Suddenly, her vision became foggy and she wondered if it was her lack of powers, the rain or the memory of her father, which made her this weak. If she'd been with other officers, she would have continued stubbornly, but now she couldn't stand on her own legs and admitted it with self-hatred. She fell gracefully down to the frosty grass, sending shivers down her spine, but she was too occupied with attempting to support her palms on the ground, allowing herself to minimal injuries and was surprised when stone beneath the grass grazed her skin with the blood tingling from the open flesh. She bit her bottom lip and got up again, knowing that she couldn't fall unconscious in the clearing. At least she could find something to cover her from the wind and the rain, else she would be destined to a cold, which she couldn't afford. If she would later have to spy on the terrorists, a sneeze could be fatal.

Her feet felt heavier than ever like they'd been turned into iron, but she knew that she had to continue. She was too vulnerable in the open and without a map and proper light, compass and energy, she was destined to be discovered by the terrorists, if they were even after her still. It'd still be too risky for her to fall on the ground and sleep, although it was spring. It wasn't very comfortable, either, she noticed when she skimmed the ground for good cover. She had never been this delusional during her years in the training to become an officer, yet it had to be something about the temperature that messed her sharp senses. It had to be, she decided, while going east. She looked back and made sure that the path, she had created when taking deep steps, didn't leave footprints for the two Arabs to follow. If they could, they'd cut her throat in anger.

She waited a few minutes as all she could hear was her own troubled breath and the forest's silence, to look up. She had to blink a few times to realize that about hundred meters in front of her, was a shelter. Primitive, but practical. She would have started running if she wasn't certain she was unable to do so. She was cold, shivering, hungry and thirsty, but cover was just ahead of her, taunting her to jog faster, yet she kept her quick pace until she stretched her arms, touching the wooden cover. She sighed of relief before crawling into it. Nobody would suspect anybody to be lying here. Her windbreaker was soaked by water and it has been hours since she had knotted it around her waist to assure that it kept itself there. Now she released it from the tight knot, shook it from the raindrops on the fabric and laid it to dry. She noted that it had a gash across the lower back, but did nothing to try and fix it.

The turquoise windbreaker was out of range for the wind to catch, so shivering, she sought cover for the rain and discovered that her breath created small misty clouds in the air, muttering curses under her breath for being so reckless in her choice of attire. A few hours, her outfit had been perfect and now it was soaked and the least practical way of dressing ever. England was not as reliable as Israel, she decided mutely, breathing on her hands to create some heat. She felt like she had been dragged through a lake of ice and then forced to run a marathon. She coughed and could feel her temperature slowly rise from the minimum. Her usually tanned arms were now bluish and very pale, matching the lake theory, yet she knew that her cheeks were still flushing with blood. Thanks to the rain, she couldn't make a fire, because all the possible kindling wood was now as soaked as she was and nearly impossible to lit. She admitted to herself that she was simply too tired to do anything about it and all that kept her from falling asleep was her sense of reason, knowing that if she fell asleep before she was warmer or before some of her clothes were drier, she would die of cold in her sleep. Not the kind of death, she had expected and certainly not the way, she would die.

Therefore, she continued rubbing her hands against each other and coughed a few times. She curled up as much as she could in her Indian style position and tried to keep her body warm. Luckily, the shelter protected her from the wind and since it no longer rained down on her, her jumper, pants and even her shoes started to dry. Or she just got used to the coolness. She considered taking off her sneakers, but knew that her cold feet would only endue earlier lack of heat without the shoes protecting her fragile skin. To distract herself from the fact, she skimmed the area around the shelter. The trees were greener than only a month before and although the spring was soon to end and the summer to start, the weather was colder than last year and she had underestimated the power of such wind and rain combined. She had been drenched if it hadn't been to the shelter and now her clothes were damp but not wet.

The trees were close and the leaves laid everywhere in all colors from light-brown to pastel green and almost neon yellow. The shelter's wood matched the trees' and camouflaged the cover, making a great hiding place for her. She blinked with her watery, chocolate-brown eyes and sighed hoarsely. She had no idea of how she could find her way back to civilization, let alone manage to eliminate those terrorists. Her father had told her that such defeatist behavior would be unacceptable and shameful for officers like herself and she would never admit it if she had been with others, but now she was alone and somehow, relieved. Though fatigue threatened to haunt her consciousness, she tried desperately tried to stay awake, but she could feel the weight of skyscrapers on her eyelids and prayed that she could keep warm for just another minute.

In her fainting moments, where she couldn't even decide if she was awake or asleep, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. It - whatever it was - stood - or laid - beside the trees, half hidden and half exposed to her eyesight, black and wolf-like. She passed it off as a predator of the forest, not conscious enough to question the wildlife and even if she had felt threatened, she hadn't enough power to keep her eyes closed. She drifted off, wondering what kind of animal, which looked like a black, furry creature. That was all she came to think off, unaware of the creature starring back at her with yellow eyes.

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**Please review and tell me if it's worth continuing or you will break two hearts! (Sounds cheesy, I know..)**


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Harry Potter, NCIS, Romance, Supernatural