Sapphires & Emeralds
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Fan Fiction,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 10 - NCIS fanfiction.An undercover assignment leads to an entanglement for NCIS. Will Abby get trapped in a web of lies? Who IS that blue-eyed stranger who sets her on fire with his touch? Gibbs and Abby pairing. Alt. Universe. Co-written with Zabby.
As executive assistant to the director, Cynthia had cultivated a vast network of contacts, both within and outside the agency. Joey downstairs called her to tell her that the FBI had arrived, right after Mellody, the FBI director's assistant, called to say there was something major brewing and Fornell had stormed out of the director's office cursing all the while.
Mellody didn't have any more details to share, but she promised to call when she did and Cynthia extended the invitation of a dinner at Café Atlantico for her help. As with most things, it would be on NCIS' dime. Thank goodness for her corporate credit card and a director who understood the gossip network.
She buzzed the director's office, wanting to give him the news.
Morrow looked up when the phone rang and clicked the button, activating the speaker phone. "Yes, Cynthia? Haven't you gone home for the night?"
"No, sir. Our favorite FBI agent seems to be on the way and ... oh, Doctor Mallard..." She looked up in shock as Ducky hurried into her boss' inner sanctum. Cynthia gently put the handset down and shook her head. After days like today, she was so tempted to ask for a huge raise.
Ducky hurried into the director's office, paying Cynthia no attention at all this time. "Director, we have a situation here. Special Agent Franks just battered a man we have in custody. Both Ziva and Abigail witnessed it first hand. He was restrained and Mike attacked him."
"What the hell?!" Jumping from his desk, Morrow called out. "Come on, Doctor. It looks like all hands on deck."
Striding out of his office, he told Cynthia as he passed. "Call my wife, please. Tell her I'm going to be late. We have a situation." He knew his wife would want to know more. But she would no doubt find a way to keep herself occupied.
"Yes, sir!" Cynthia sat up taller and dialed Katherine Morrow, explaining the situation as clearly and concisely as she could, despite the woman's obvious confusion and inebriated state. When she was done, she rubbed a hand over the bridge of her nose. In a short while she'd order some dinner for herself and the agents. Maybe even from Café Atlantico. She was owed and it was going to be a very long night.
Ducky scooped up a first aid kit and a bottle of water from the outer office and followed the director in silence, knowing his expression was becoming grimmer with every step. He could see Mike and Special Agent Fornell huddled together in the alcove and Tony and Timothy were entertaining two other men. Ducky frowned slightly then walked faster toward the group of younger men.
"Sebastian, is that you? My you've grown, lad! Aren't you with Interpol?" Ducky turned to DiNozzo and McGee. "Have you boys met Sebastian Blumenthal, he's an agent much like yourselves, with Interpol. Sebastian, why are you here?"
"Can't explain that to you, Doctor," Ron Sacks replied, giving Blumenthal a warning look. Ducky arched an eyebrow at the FBI agent before turning his attention back to the young man.
"Ducky," Sebastian said, warmly, extending a hand and clasping the Medical Examiner's. He looked uncomfortable, Ducky realized. Since Interpol didn't work with the military, Ducky couldn't fathom what Sebastian was doing here.
"Dear boy, I'm very happy to have you here with us. Why, I haven't seen you since ... was it when Mother and your grandfather were courting a few years back. How is your grandfather doing? He's part of my bridge circle, but of course we don't play in many of the same tournaments and I..." Ducky trailed off then, noting that Director Morrow was looking at him in annoyance. "Ah ... very well. We'll speak later then. Director?"
"Doctor..." the Director warned. There was something going drastically wrong in interrogation, and he needed to be there now, not listening to Ducky. "Doctor Mallard, we need to proceed."
"Yes. Oh yes. Oh. Of course!" Ducky nodded and hurried down the corridor with the director.
Making his way to the interrogation rooms, Director Morrow burst into the first one. At first glimpse, he took in Abby hovering protectively over a man whose face was bruised, while Ziva stood back a few steps in a clearly defensive posture.
"What in the hell is going on in my agency? Someone had better explain and quick."
Jet arched an eyebrow at the man who had marched in as if he owned the place. His agency? Must be a bigwig then. He gave the man his most pathetic look and acted as if he was going to extend a hand, only to come up short when he "realized" he was cuffed. He sat back down with a thump and lifted his hands to his aching temple.
It was overly dramatic, but he knew it'd get a reaction.
Tom Morrow had been reading through lies and bullshit for more years than he cared to admit. And this one was laying it on pretty thick; the bullshit anyhow. He doubted very much the cuffs and bruises would have been that big of a deterrent to someone like the man in front of him, despite his feeble look.
He'd let the man play his game, for now, and would wait to see where the suspect would take it and how far. Director Tom Morrow was many things, but impulsive and reckless were not on that list.
"Sciuto! David! Someone had better start explaining what the hell is going on!"
Knowing that Abby wasn't in a state to be objective, Ziva stepped forward to make her report and debrief the Director.
"Director," she began in greeting. "We apprehended this suspect, known as Jet Brooks, through Franks' op this evening. On the way here, he was Mirandized and detained. However, no charges were given to him, as per orders from Franks. When we arrived, I was instructed to bring him here and to guard him. Ms. Sciuto arrived to print him, which I allowed her to do in private." For reasons Ziva was not going to disclose. She would leave that to Abby. "She was safe, protected as I can hear through the door, and the suspect was cuffed."
Taking a deep breath, she began to describe the more ... unsavory part of the entire occurrence. "When Franks returned to interrogate the suspect, he became enraged at finding Abby inside, alone with Brooks. He quite lost control of himself when he went inside the room. He charged the suspect, grabbing him by the clothes and striking him twice. The second hit caused Brooks to lose consciousness and fall to the floor. When confronted with his behavior by Abby, as I stood behind her in support and protection, Franks became more enraged, threatening her, and claiming he was going to have her transferred, among other things. When neither Abby nor myself backed down, he left."
The more details Ziva gave him, the tighter Tom's eyes became. The situation had gone exceedingly too far. Though why Mike would behave like that, Morrow was still confused about. "Why in the hell would Franks strike a suspect?"
Getting up from her chair next to Jet, Abby walked over to the director. "He says it's because Je ... Brooks assaulted me and was threatening me when he came into interrogation. He also said that Brooks hit himself. None of that is true, Director."
Ducky was impressed that the girls didn't hold back. It must have been hard for them to explain what Mike had done in this fashion. "Well done," he whispered, looking at the women and then the suspect, assessing his physical injuries.
No changes, which was bloody good. Brooks' eyes remained clear and focused, and his attention was clearly on the proceedings. He didn't appear to be groggy in the least. Ducky breathed a silent sigh of relief for that. The last thing any of them needed was an injured suspect.
Jet just watched as things unfolded. This had to be the NCIS director, Morrow. He nodded slightly at the realization, coughing back a growl as his head started throbbing even worse. Ziva impressed the hell out of him with her frank assessment of the events. It was never easy to call a superior out on their behavior.
He didn't dare add anything to the conversation, so he turned in his chair slightly, watching the other man's body language and every move, body coiled in case he needed to defend Abby or Ziva. He knew the man had to have seen through his act, but it was done to get a reaction, not to maintain that it was truth or any BS like that. These were trained investigators. He could pull one over on them if he wanted to. But he wasn't interested in trying yet. The name confusion would do just fine until or unless anything changed.
Hearing him cough, Abby turned and saw Jet flinch, though barely. "Ducky, do you have those aspirin and some ice?" Seeing a first aid kit in the doctor's hand, Abby assumed the items were in there. Grabbing it, she looked through it and said, "Thanks Duckman." Going back to Jet, she sat in the chair and pulled out the pain meds and a small bottle of water. Handing them to Jet, she waited for him to sip the water and take the pills.
Morrow shook his head at Ziva's explanation, running over it and coming up with questions. "That's all well and good, but that still doesn't explain why Franks would come in and hit a restrained suspect. There had to have been some provocation."
Jet took the water and pills, putting his hands back on the table and barely resisting the urge to touch Abby. He looked at the older man and shook his head. "There wasn't. I was sitting right here..." He trailed off, knowing that while this fight involved him, it wasn't really his fight. But he couldn't help adding something else.
"I didn't assault her."
"Director, other than causing an ... unexpected reaction in Abby, the suspect didn't have time to do anything." Ziva hoped that Morrow wouldn't press for what had happened to Abby. If and when it was time to do so, she hoped either Abby would tell or she'd at least have some privacy. Ziva hated to disclose information about friends, despite her rundown of Franks' behavior.
"He didn't, Director. He didn't have the time or the means, even besides being cuffed. Ziva was outside and plenty able to get to me if I needed her. I wasn't threatened in the least." Sitting as she was by the table with Jet between her and the rest of the group, Abby found herself to be weaker than Jet. With one hand supporting her on the table, she let the hand closest to Jet fall to her lap. With her pinky, she traced a light pattern on his pants, unseen by anyone in the room or in observation.
"So, you're telling me my senior agent came in here and assaulted you with no more antagonism than Abby being alone with you?" Morrow turned his gaze on the suspect. He was having an incredibly hard time believing that Franks would be that stupid. But hearing it from so many witnesses, he didn't know what else he could believe.
Jet nodded, shrugging. What could he say? "That was how we all saw it, Sir. Maybe we're all wrong..." But he knew they weren't. He wanted to stand up, yank the damn cuffs off, and start ranting but that'd get him pinned against the wall or worse.
"Unless you're leading a conspiracy against Franks, I highly doubt three witnesses could all be mistaken." Morrow started pacing the room, trying to figure out how to spin this. Stopping in front Ziva, he asked the two girls, "Do you two have any ideas what the hell went wrong with Franks?"
"It was my fault, Director," Abby admitted as she stood up. "I think Mike had it in his head that I needed to be protected, that somehow my being alone with the suspect was putting me in danger." Swallowing, Abby hesitated before admitting the last part. Her reaction to Jet and her subsequent behavior when they first met was embarrassing. But to save both her guys — and she did consider Jet one of her guys now — she would have to admit it all.
"Director, I ... when I first came in contact with the suspect, with Mr. Brooks," she began, hating that she had to make it sound so impersonal, despite her strange, growing feelings for Jet. "I'm afraid I was a bit ... overwhelmed by the situation, by him. I've never been in a position like that, and I was more attracted to him than I thought. It shook me up. I think Mike saw that as me being threatened," she finished quickly, shuffling her feet as she felt her embarrassment stain her cheeks red.
"So, it was my fault. I'm sorry," she tried, before plopping back down in her seat and lowering her head to the table. She was too mortified to look at anyone then, especially Jet, too embarrassed to have behaved as such an idiot. Bet Ziva would never have acted like that, Abby thought to herself.
"Abby, it wasn't your fault," Jet said quietly but forcefully. He knew he had to give the man something, so with his heart hammering in his throat, he began speaking. "Sir, many years ago Mr. Franks investigated a crime against someone I know. We met then ... but I was not a suspect," he emphasized. "He may have had me pegged as a problem in that investigation because it was a long time ago..."
He trailed off before looking back into the older man's eyes. "I will not discuss the specifics of the investigation with anyone. That is the only information you're getting about it."
"Jet, it was my fault," Abby whispered to him. "It was and it still is. If I had known how to handle the op, had had more experience, then I wouldn't have taken the stun gun to you. And now, I wouldn't have seen you alone, no matter how much I needed to see you ... it all goes back to experience, right?"
"I deserved the damned stun gun," Jet insisted. "You did the right thing. I could have hurt you."
"I didn't do it because I felt threatened," Abby argued, hating that she'd have to admit this one last detail. "I did it because I thought you were after the jewelry, not me. I thought you were a thief and ... I got pissed," she admitted.
"Good..." Jet said softly, knowing he needed to expand on that as soon as the word was out of his mouth. "You got feisty, you got pissed, and you struck out. Good to know you have spirit and soul, Abby." He carefully didn't admit to anything.
Abby smiled wryly at his comment. "You have no idea just how feisty I can get, Jet. I've got spirit and soul in abundance." She wasn't so naïve that she missed his avoidance of anything mentioning the jewelry. But with everything else that had happened, his needing to keep his secrets was not something she wanted to worry about.
"Can't wait until you let them come out and play then," he shot back, halting when the doctor gave him a warning glance. He was playing with fire here and he needed to rein himself in. He gave the man a look of acknowledgment and of silent thanks. He had to get back on track for all of their sakes, especially Abby.
After a pause of a few seconds, Jet spoke again. "Given the circumstances, the entire team reacted quite reasonably. They saw one of their own shaken up. They protected their own, someone who isn't used to being in that circumstance." He fixed the man with a severe glare. "And they reacted."
Ducky worried his lower lip between his teeth. "Director. We have Ziva and yourself in here and though Abby and I are not armed, we are capable and able. Might you remove the gentleman's handcuffs? He has been through quite the ordeal and I don't think he's up for an escape. And even if so, he'd never make it to the gates before the entire base was on lockdown."
"Please, Director. We don't even know if he's done anything wrong. Please let him go," Abby begged. And somehow, she knew that despite appearances, if Jet wanted to escape and disappear, he was more than able.
Sebastian Blumenthal tried to remain less imposing and looked at the younger man's computer, letting the two NCIS agents and Sacks fight things out. He could do bad cop, unobtrusive cop with the best of 'em. When the computer flashed up a hit on something they didn't want discovered, he leaned on the keyboard, clearing the search. If either of the men were computer gurus, they could pull up the details quickly, but if not he might have bought them some time. He gave Sacks a brief nod. This was the one thing they'd been tasked to do. At least they weren't Fornell, who had to make contact...
And they might have gotten away with it. At least until the computer beeped...
"McGee!" Tony peered around the guy Ducky knew, nudging him out of the way. "You and Sacks stand over there, near those two desks." Tony pointed toward Ziva's desk area. He leaned over McGee's shoulder, staring at the screen. "McGeek? Can you get back whatever was there before he did what he did?" Tony asked urgently. "Mission Impossible it up if you have to. Something fishy going on here."
"Oh it, Boss ... I mean, Tony." Inwardly, Tim head slapped himself. He hated it when he slipped up and called Tony "boss." It always went straight to the other man's head. Quickly clicking away on his keyboard, he worked to bring up whatever information Agent Blumenthal had erased.
"Did I do something wrong?" Sebastian asked, winking at Sacks before leaning against one of the desks. He didn't much like working with the FBI but his superiors had insisted that they work this case together and with a minimum of frustration and turf wars. Ron Sacks wasn't too bad and Fornell had a Napoleon complex but he could deal and work with the man just fine.
"Not buying the innocent act." Tony muttered, squeezing McGee's shoulder. "Deliberate?" he questioned, whispering into McGee's ear. Even though they'd been bickering beforehand, whenever anyone threatened the team, they tightened ranks.
What the hell was Interpol doing here anyway? Brooks was big trouble. At least he'd be out of their hair soon with the Feebs and Interpol playing along with NCIS. Tony had seen enough turf wars and he knew much as Mike might want to, there was no way he'd win this battle.
"Deliberate," McGee confirmed as he worked his way through the computer system.
Tony nodded, leaning over the keyboard alongside McGee, keeping half his attention on the two looking ever so innocent. "Bastard," he muttered for McGee's benefit.
"Finally," Tim said annoyed. The deleted search was the latest one he had been running on Franks' request. Having started a search on past cases Franks had been involved in, plus the search elements from earlier, he was pleased to see something come up. "Got something, Tony. Old case Franks worked on. It doesn't list a Jet Brooks, but a Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Marine. Jet could be an abbreviation. Both wife and daughter were killed. Wife was a witness for the prosecution. Drugs. There's a picture."
Pulling up the photo, it showed a young Jet Brooks as a Marine, but with the name of L. Jethro Gibbs, Gunnery Sergeant. "Its like Franks was growling about, but the facts were wrong. Brooks/Gibbs was the husband and father of the victims, not the murderer."
"Leroy Jethro Gibbs?" Tony asked, incredulously. Nobody could have heaped a name on a kid that was that bad. Leroy Jethro? It sounded very ... Green Acres, very Beverly Hillbillies. Tony couldn't wrap his mind around it. The guy they'd collared was in a designer tux, hair military short but pristine. The guy had screamed urbane elegance. Not... Leroy Jethro??
Tony took in the rest of the information and leaned in when McGee pulled up the picture. Young guy, probably late twenties, dark hair, even though the picture was black and white, Tony had the impression that those eyes were ice blue.
Franks had it wrong? Tony pulled in a breath, looking around. At some point, Mike and Fornell had left. They were probably in interrogation. "Interrogation, McGee. Let's bring our guests along."
Tim's gut twisted as he realized the man in interrogation wasn't a perp, a dirtbag as Tony had labeled him. He was a Marine. Looking up at the agents watching them, he asked, "He's FBI, right? That's why you're here."