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Sapphires & Emeralds

by: taylorgibbs (Send Feedback)

Series: - No Series - #1
Chapters: 023 Word Count: 118521
Rating: MATURE
Character(s): Jethro Gibbs, Tony DiNozzo, Ducky Mallard, Abby Sciuto, Ziva David, Timothy McGee, Other Male Character, Tobias Fornell, Tom Morrow
Category(ies): Alternate Universe, Angst/Drama, Mystery, Romance
Pairing(s): Gibbs/Abby
Episode(s): 3-24 Hiatus (2)
Summary: 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? Co written with Zabby.

Author Notes: This is a completely AU story. Gibbs is not with NCIS.Instead, Mike Franks is the team leader. Abby spent some time as a special agent before realizing she wasn't cut out to be an agent. Many of the rest of canon events happened. McGee was recruited to the team, Kate died, Ziva is a part of NCIS, though the current director is Morrow, not Jenny or Vance. Other important canon items will be filled out as needed.

Since this is AU, Gibbs is not quite the same Gibbs you see on your screen every week. He isn't all THAT different either...appearances CAN be deceiving :)

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23

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S&E 1

Chapter One

Jet Brooks looked around the room and nodded at a few of the women in their designer evening gowns. He should be used to this mating dance now, but anticipation thrummed through him at the thrill of the chase. He should be getting too old for this but he was strangely excited by it all.

With his silver hair, charming smile and well-above-average looks, he knew he made an impression. He may have fit right in with this crowd but he knew how different he was. Their clothes by top designers, their jewelry worth tens of thousands. They had no idea there was an impostor in their midst, his clothes the only genuine thing about him. The name was much less real than the Rolex on his wrist, an identity to be used and discarded when it was no longer convenient. Or when people got too close for comfort.

Jet was an expert in keeping people far away. It was the only way he was successful at his job. And he was very successful at what he did.

He leaned against the wall, watching the crowd, scanning for the perfect mark. These pre-dinner mixers gave him the best opportunity to study and observe the groupings, to decide who to approach and charm. Their necks, wrists, and fingers glittered and sparkled with precious stones and expensive metals and each one caught his eyes for a nanosecond before he continued onward. He’d know the mark when he saw her. And it would be a her. Men were too suspicious, too hard to get close to. Though he was damned good at getting close to people. At least in this role.

Jet moved through the crowd with ease, flirting with one matron, nodding to another. His identity was flawless and many of the socialites had embraced him from the moment they met him eighteen months ago. None of them would ever suspect a traitor was in their midst, someone who would charm the jewels right off them and never feel a moment of regret.

He crossed the marble floor, glancing up at the chandelier that sent prisms of light over the expanse. On a nearby serving table, there was a glass of higher-end champagne, more than he could ever afford, with his name on it.

As he worked his way around groups of people, he saw her. His mark. And she took his breath away.

Black hair swept up with tendrils tumbling down. Creamy skin. Tall, statuesque. The black, sparkly, halter dress dipped down very low in front displaying an emerald and diamond necklace that took his breath away. At least he told himself it was the necklace and not the woman. Her green eyes fastened on his and he knew he was in deep trouble.

Keep your mind on the job, Jet.

His body ignored the warning, turning to hers as he lifted two glasses of champagne off a platter. “Evening.”

Gingerly, her right hand ghosted along the opposite side of her neck, where her spider web tattoo used to be. She felt almost naked without it, exposed. Still surprised the removal left no visible scars, Abby moved her hand to the necklace she wore, realizing how nervous playing along her neck made her look.

Scanning the crowd as she fiddled with the jewelry that cost more than her yearly paycheck from NCIS, Abby had to wonder at the brilliance of the director’s plan. And Mike Franks’ decision to go with it. It had been years since she’d been out in the field, having decided she was much better off in her safe, clean lab, without the daily threat of bullets bouncing around her.

But now, here she was, undercover and acting as bait for a Naval Commander. How she was the perfect bait, she still didn’t believe. No matter how much Tony teased her about her looks, or Franks said it was her duty.

Sure, she was young, single, and the perfect mark to help move the Commander’s drugs. And with her cover – a recently widowed Marine wife – she would seem to be an easy target. Easy? Ha, not with the stun gun in her bag, thanks to Ziva.

And here she was, in the middle of money, power, influence, and she was supposed to figure out exactly which one of the dozen plus Commanders in the room was the one shuffling drugs. Yeah, okay, she thought caustically, I fit right in. She was going to get Tony for suggesting her.

Take a deep breath, Sciuto, and remember that young Marine who overdosed on bad drugs. There had been something wrong with the drugs; something added that sent the poor boy into convulsions. That something was still being run through her babies when she’d been coerced into going undercover.

Suddenly, a shiver went up her spine as she felt eyes on her. Turning her head slightly, her green eyes met the extraordinary blue ones staring intently at her. Stunned into silence, it took a jolt of her heart restarting for Abby to come back to her senses.

Silver hair, blue eyes. Those were her only thoughts until she realized with a drop in her stomach that this was probably her contact; either the man himself, or someone who would take her to him.

Trying to adopt an attitude she in no way felt, Abby lifted an eyebrow and returned his greeting, “Good evening.”

A whisky-soaked voice that went right to his groin brushed over his ears and he mentally stumbled a bit, hoping his interest didn’t show on his face. “Champagne?” he asked, knowing the wet bar would make anything they wanted, no matter how high end. Up close she was even more attractive, and he sensed something lively—even spunky—in the way she smiled.

He glanced down at her hands where a matching ring adorned the finger of her right, a few bracelets hugging the wrists. But no wedding or engagement ring and no sign that there had been one. Oh, she was perfect. Her date—and there had to be one—seemed to be leaving her at a distance, which suited him just fine. He couldn’t help but want to get his hands on that delicate throat and the jewels that rested there.

“Haven’t seen you at one of these before. Pet charity?” he asked, slowly sipping his champagne. “You here for the event or the show?”

Taking the tall, sparkling flute from the man, Abby had to repress the shivers that ran through her body at the mere sound of his voice. This was a man used to giving orders and not having them questioned. This was an Alpha male.

“Thank you,” she replied. “No, I’ve never been to one of these before. I’m here as a favor, as a filler for someone who needed a date. I don’t get out much lately, so I don’t really know these people.” Looking around for that said date – she’d get McGee in the morning for abandoning her – Abby realized she was alone, stood up.

“But I guess he’s found more interesting activities,” she quirked, turning her attention back to the man in black, his gaze direct and soul stealing.

He had the look of a military man; great posture, high and tight haircut, stern look, piercing blue eyes. Stop it, Sciuto, she admonished herself. It would do her no good to get completely snared by this man. He could very well be the one inundating parties like this one with drugs.

But something in her gut rebelled at the thought of the man before her as a drug dealer. Something didn’t feel right, felt almost like she was betraying the man he was. Ridiculous, she thought. Just because someone has striking blue eyes, a voice that made her insides melt, and a throat she’d love to sink her teeth into…Stop it! Just because the man is attractive, doesn’t make him any less innocent.

“Husband? Boyfriend? Or just a friend?” He was there alone, a completely single man on the prowl for more than jewelry. If the opportunity arose, anyway. And this woman intrigued him more than any had in a long time. Too damned long. But his job on the fringes didn’t allow for more than a fling every so often. He had a few broken marriages to show for that.

He eyed her as he sipped his champagne. She was clearly looking for someone, her eyes canvassing the room before focusing back on him, the pupils dilating slightly then contracting as if she forced herself to not react to something.

“If he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be. Put him out of your mind for now and focus on me.” It was a slight order delivered with a thread of command. He wanted to see how she’d react.

Deciding to up the stakes slightly, he leaned in, making sure his breath flowed over the exposed flesh of her collarbone. His hand found the necklace, fingers stroking over the stones slowly only to trickle down the exposed front of her dress into her cleavage before stroking once all the way up her breastbone to the hollow of her throat.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, moving deeper into her personal space. “What should I call you?”

“Just a friend,” she answered, before remembering she was supposed to be a widow as part of her cover. Darkening her eyes slightly in a remembered pain, she looked to the right slightly before turning back to him.

If there had been any doubts as to the possible rank of this man, it left with his order. He was clearly used to having his word followed, without argument. Reminded her of Franks in a way.

Raising an eyebrow, she took another drink from her champagne, the bubbles starting to go to her head a bit. “You seem like a man who is used to having his way, no questions asked. Or is just with random women you meet at events like this?”

Her eyes closed in shocked pleasure as his breath and fingers ghosted across her skin. For a moment, she forgot where she was, forgot who she was. All she knew was the heat radiating off the man. The hand holding the champagne flute fell to her side, the glass resting against her thigh.

Breaths coming in quick bursts, her chest heaving slightly in anticipation, she answered, “Abby. You can call me Abby.”


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