Sorry this took longer to get out than I expected...I had...stuff come up, besides the expected finals and all.
Going to a highschool classmate's funeral, not my cup of tea...x.x'
RIP Alyssa, watch us and laugh, luv.
No, I don't own it!
--
Jane didn't look up when someone sighed. It was obvious what they wanted, a part of the couch he was stretched out on, trying to nap. He stopped himself from reacting as the footsteps drew closer, but tightened his grip on the pillow imperceptibly. He was going to get his nap in, damn it!
But he was in fact surprised when instead of the pillow being ripped from his eyes, something every member of the team would do, except perhaps Van Pelt, he found his feet and lower legs being lifted up and then placed in a warm lap. This was different, for certain. The mentalist still made no move to show his wakeful state, curiosity getting the better of him. It was hard not to react when his shoes and socks were summarily taken off and his feet massaged. There were too many memories in the movements, and he stiffened.
"It's ok, Jane," The voice was feminine, but not Lisbon or Van Pelt, rather it was husky and low, tinged with a Southern drawl, very soothing, "You just looked like you wanted to relax and I wanted a seat, so I figured I'd help you relax while taking a seat. I'll stop if you want me to." He grinned crookedly into the pillow at this. It was just Abby, that NCIS forensic scientist they'd found casing the latest scene. He pulled the pillow off his head, deciding he didn't want his voice to be muffled when he spoke.
"It's quite alright, Abby, the massage feels lovely. It just-" he broke off, unsure how to continue. How did he explain his reaction without insulting her or bringing up too many painful memories? "Have you heard about Red John?"
"Yeah, he's one of the greatest unsolved cases here, right? His signature is a smiley face drawn in the victim's blood." Abby was too caught up in her recital to notice Jane's elevated breathing and stiffening. God, he'd forgotten about that part, how could he forget about that part, for pity's sake he slept under the damn smiley! "My forensic journal mentioned something about how what, five years ago now-" seven, he thought miserably, seven years ago now, "-it was claimed he was nearly tracked down by a psychic named Patrick..." further words were cut off by Jane's suddenly finding himself with 130 pounds of Abigail Scuito lying on top of him, hugging the daylights out of him.
"It was you, wasn't it? He-he killed your family. Oh, I'm so sorry...that's why my foot massage...I'm so sorry!" Fake platitudes and words meant to comfort her more than him, 'It was so long ago-I know they're in a better place' formed on his lips, then died. She wasn't the type to need them, not with how her voice was still soothing in his ears, her body weight warm against him. No, she wasn't one who needed to be comforted. She was a comforter.
She prompted a small sigh out of him, and impulse had him kissing her temple, tentatively wrapping his arms around her, returning the horizontal hug.
"Thank you, Abby," he breathed, feeling her smile against his shoulder, she had pressed herself so close to him. But there was nothing lewd about the closeness of their embrace. Just comfort, like an over exuberant hug one would obtain from your mother-or your daughter. That thought made him tense again, but Abby's half murmured words about something and her hand stroking through his curls just the same way Momma used to do finally lulled him off to sleep.
--
"No, Gibbs. I'm afraid I can't let you go." Gibbs kept up his level stare at Leon Vance. The Director was loathe to let him go 'gallivanting off to California', but he hadn't been given the full story yet.
"Abby happened on a body of a Marine while at the beach, and the police were called in. No one has heard from her since she first reported in. Do you want to be dealing with what-ever-his-name-is while we work to get Abby potentially freed from custody? You know as well as I that no matter what, if she's been arrested, her credibility as an expert witness is shot." Vance sighed at Gibbs' announcement, before stating briefly, "If you're that worried, go get her back here, Gibbs. We can't risk her not being able to give testimony. Every case we have in the works, let alone any in the future, would be blown to pieces."
Gibbs controlled his smirk as he left the office with its putrid orange walls. He just needed to pack, inform the team and catch the next flight; he'd already bought the plane ticket out. Hadn't done return tickets, since Lord knew when they'd be coming back. Three heads looked up from their work as he descended the stairs, blue eyes grim.
"Boss? You bought a plane ticket for California...is Abby in trouble?" Timothy McGee, computer geek as always, had already pulled up his recent purchases. Not too surprising; the MIT graduate had learned through the years to try to stay on top of what Gibbs was doing next, especially after the fiasco when he went to Mexico.
Ziva David just stared at him levelly, dark eyes serene and questioning. That it had been her being in trouble that brought him back still weighed on her, it seemed, or perhaps the Mossad officer still hurt from being separated from the team for four months, when they'd all been scattered to the winds. Gibbs rubbed his right hand at that thought; the first fingers still ached from being shot during the gun-fight two months ago, when their separation had finally been explained.
Anthony DiNozzo was looking frazzled and alarmed, an odd look for the normally always serene and calm Senior Agent. Gibbs realized why. The thought that his best friend and mother figure might be facing trouble without them was near to breaking Tony. Not that he would show it to anyone except Gibbs. "Tony, you okay?"
"Ye-yeah, Boss. I 'm fine, but that temp forensics guy is driving me insane. Get Abs back here quick, ok?" Gibbs knew that was the best he was going to get as an answer, and so let it lie. Tony had enough carefully hidden separation problems without his adding to them. "Course, Tony. I hopefully won't be gone more than a couple days. The plan is to run a joint investigation with whatever local LEOs Abby got involved in, so I'll be calling in information for you three to track down. Right now I'm the only one going out, but if needed, I'll have the rest of you haul out there. Bye, I've got to go tell Ducky and pack."
--
Lisbon viewed the tableau with an odd sort of jealousy. It wasn't that she was really jealous of Abby for cuddling with Jane, not precisely. It wasn't that she was jealous of Jane's obvious affection for the woman...it was more...she was jealous of the fact that Jane was actually letting Abby close. They'd barely known each other for six hours, yet Jane was letting her touch him and comfort him more than he had let any of the team for years.
It rankled, knowing he was more comfortable with this stranger than with his own team. Dammit, it hurt, watching from afar as his mask had dismantled itself, something she'd been trying to have happen for years now. The man needed to grieve; he needed to let himself move on. It wasn't healthy, what he was doing, bottling it all up and directing his whole being towards getting revenge on Red John. It just couldn't be healthy.
Casing the scene had taken three and a half hours, driving to and from the scene to Abby's hotel for her to pack up necessities and change and come to headquarters had taken four hours itself. Abby had wanted to get right to work on the forensics, but CBI's background checks took longer than NCIS', seemingly, from her hurt expression when told that the results of a positive identification that she was really who she said she was, credentials and all would take another two hours. Lisbon had been strongly willing to trust her, since she did have a badge and ID, but Cho and Rigsby had persuaded her to the 'safer' course.
Jane had been asleep for an hour, Abby never moving from where she was cuddled atop him except to send a number of lightning-quick texts, having disengaged her hands from around him to do so. The replies had made her grimace, sigh, smile, snicker and blush in turn. Lisbon wanted to know just what would cause the Goth woman to blush to the point of redness all over her body, but decided against it, it wasn't polite to pry. Cho interrupted his team-leader's musing, stepping up beside her to speak softly to her ear.
"Lobby says there's a man here asking for you, one Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. Should we have them send him up?" The Asian man's eyes were dark with worry, more for potentially losing their case than anything else, Lisbon surmised.
"Yeah, send him up. If he's the one Abby was talking about, he'll provoke some sort of reaction out of her." Lisbon contemplated informing the other woman that her friend was coming up, but decided against it; better to see what their relationship was this way than before they had a chance to get their story straight.
The man walking in behind Rigsby instantly commanded attention, and obedience. It seemed engrained in every line of his body. Former military, perhaps even former Marine, just from his bearing. Hair was silver and close cut, eyes the same blue as Fairbanks'...perhaps this wasn't their unknown NCIS agent, but their dead Marine's father? But why hadn't he been introduced as such, and how hadn't he been intercepted by Grief Counseling instead of shepherded up to the bullpen?
The unknown man walked almost silently across the floor, stopping in front of Lisbon, eyes level. This was no grief-stricken father; there was no sight of red rims to his eyes at all. Must be that Agent Gibbs.
"Special Agent Gibbs. Might I presume you're Agent Lisbon?" At her nod, he held out a hand to shake, grasp firm and dry, a worker's calluses rasping against her smoother palm. His tight-lipped, polite nod turned to somewhat of a smile as he spotted the pair on the couch. "If you'll excuse me...I suggest you cover your ears." With that cryptic statement he stepped beyond Lisbon, closer to the couch, taking out a still buzzing cellphone. His smile grew wide as he read what was on the screen, and painstakingly punched in five numbers. Abby's phone vibrated and the she flipped it open.
Lisbon then understood Gibbs' statement. In fact, she was surprised Abby's shout hadn't woken Jane, but he merely turned over on his side, the pillow he had been holding to his head now cuddled to his stomach. The ease with which the agent caught a near-flying Abby was testament to a long time working together. Lisbon couldn't help but smile at the over exuberant greeting the man was getting.
--
Abby sent a frazzled text of "Where are you?!" to Gibbs, and was surprised at the quick response. "Here" Why, that little sneak! Still, she all but levitated off of Jane to avoid waking him before running headlong into Gibbs' arms. "Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs! You're here, you're here, you're here!"
His laugh vibrated through her chest, warm and familiar. "Yes, I'm here, I'm here, I'm here. Now you don't want to wake up your sleeping friend, now do you?" His voice was laced with that tone of command she'd come to expect plus that extra twist he laid on just for her, and she inwardly winced. Oh no. Gibbs thought she-! But she hadn't, she would never-!
"No, sir, he just needed comforting." She leaned closer, presumably to continue her hug, in reality to whisper in his ear, "He's like how you said you were...before you caught their murderer." She felt him stiffen, and merely held him tighter. "That's why I was there...I was doing what I could to help him like I wish I'd been able to help you...but- it's been years and years, not the one it was for you. He's hurting, bad. You need to help him. We need to help him." Gibbs sighed; he'd been caught in another one of Abby's wounded-bird schemes. But this one, much like the one with Jethro-the-dog, was one that they could really do something about.
"I'll see what I can do, Abs. But remember, the case comes first." She nodded into his shoulder, before stiffening in her turn as she felt the collar loosen around her neck. He'd been busy multitasking while she was talking, it seemed. She felt the approval in his gaze when the collar fully fell away. It had been her secret, the imprint on her neck. The low growl he let out made her smile. It was always nice to know he still wanted her.
"You're lucky I brought you another collar, little minx. There would be too many questions asked if the agents here saw this." His hand caressed her neck, running over the imprint of his name against her windpipe, and she stifled a whimper.
Deftly Gibbs buckled another collar around her neck. The weight of this one was more familiar, and his imperceptible tug on her leashing-ring made her smile. It was his collar, the one he had made for her especially.
Lambskin was smooth and cool on her sweaty neck, and she knew it would slowly begin to stick and pull when she turned her head. But if he set it tight enough, it would simply stay on her neck, letting her turn her head without pain. Her fingers ghosted over his as they pulled away from her neck, letting her trace the familiar collar.
There were no spikes; he'd decreed something more feminine for her first collar from him. She hadn't minded; it was still a collar from Gibbs. If he had made it bright pink with sparkles she wouldn't have minded! But he'd been kind. Simple black leather, her favorite, adorned with miniature pyramid studs turned to look like diamonds and two lengths of heavy-duty jewelry chain wrapping around the top and bottom. The leashing-ring's rivets held the only color, from their gemstone covers, the color of his eyes.
Bemusedly, she realized she must have been anticipating this collar, everything she wore matched it, the blue-and-black 'Death's Joker' shirt and blue plaid miniskirt, even down to her blue flipflops and black cuffs, another gift from him, though simpler in design, just single-strap black with leashing rings and diamonéd-pyramid studs. Signs of ownership that no one realized.
Except Tony, he perhaps might realize it by now, Tim likely had no clue, but Ziva certainly did, Tony was just a little bit slower on the draw than the Mossad agent when it came to that sort of thing, even though there had been the case where Gibbs had-but that, she realized, was immaterial here.
Slowly, she came back to herself and her surroundings. Gibbs had already turned her, placing a proprietary hand on her hip. Lisbon seemed curious, Van Pelt perhaps…mildly appalled, Rigsby and Cho pretended not to care, all the while Jane slept on.
--
"So," Gibbs' voice was gravelly, likely with sleep deprivation rather than any particular habit of smoking, "what do you have?"
"The two of you," Rigsby said, completely cutting off Lisbon's intended remark, and she hastily shot him a look before he could say anything else, "Currently we have no leads into why Fairbanks died. Our ME still hasn't ruled out natural death, such as a heart attack." Gibbs just stared at her, and the hardened CBI agent felt herself wilting a little, before straightening her spine, she wasn't about to let him run roughshod over her like that just because he glared a little!
"A healthy twenty-five year old Marine dies of a heart attack? Unless it was induced by something, it's not possible, and the inducement makes it murder." His words were scathing, and his tone fierce, but Lisbon noticed how his hand still remained gentle on Abby's hip, and how his voice changed when he murmured to his forensic scientist, "I don't like how you were the one to discover him, Abs. Something's hinky about that."
"You're not one for coincidences, are you, Agent Gibbs?" The voice was slightly muffled, but Patrick Jane's movements were that of an awake and alert man. He slowly rolled himself back over and upright, facing the silver-haired man, "Something we agree on." Jane's eyes widened as his hand, put out for a shake, was violently yanked until he was nearly standing on the taller NCIS agent's feet.
"You don't tell them my secrets, I won't tell them yours." The man's voice was good for menace, Jane quickly realized, and was probably equally frightening barking out words like a drill sergeant. He didn't even bother verbally replying, just squeezed the hand holding his for a moment, then relaxed his grip, to the point where he nearly fell as Gibbs released him. Jane wondered to himself why he was so worried about Gibbs' threat, everything he had told Abby the team already knew about. Still, an inner knowledge told him to be wary, those few things that he had told no one-something in Gibbs' eyes said he knew them as well as Jane did. All the little secrets.
"Daddy, why does Mommy have a gun? Guns are bad!" Blue eyes stared up at him, accusingly, curiously, the curiosity winning out, as it always would, she was her father's child, after all...
"Daddy, are you sure all little girls go to heaven? Miz Robert says that if I don't go to confession before I die, I won't go to heaven, I'll go to pur-ga-tory." Her eyes were wide, scared, like they had been from her nightmare the night before...before...
"Pat, why did you? I'm scared, honey, he might come after you." Hands, warm and tender on his cheeks as she turned him to look at her again, made him face her pain-filled gaze...
"Patty, what's this gun for? Are you sure? I'm worried, sweetheart." Her distaste for the cold steel, tempered by her warring worry and growing anxiety, and the inner knowledge that they actually might need it, grudging acceptance...
"Patty, love, I-I-oh, God, how do I say this-I'm pregnant." Her dark eyes were bright with excitement, her hair almost sparking in the light from the overhead lamp, and he found he couldn't feel anything except joy...
"I know you're worried about us, Pat, but you did promise to go, and you're so close to catching him. Amazing what a role-reversal, huh, my mindreader? It's the hormones talking. I love you, now get to work, buster!" Kelly was clinging to him, begging him not to go, but Tracy peeled her golden-haired daughter off him, dropping an affectionate kiss on his lips, her eyes showing the worry she wouldn't allow to be visible in front of their daughter...he kissed her once, hard, running a hand down Kelly's hair, dropping a kiss to her forehead and Tracy's barely visible baby-bump before picking up his briefcase and walking out the door...
Tracy…Kelly…his heart quailed as the memories threatened to swamp him. Only two things, no, three, held him grounded. Gibbs' sudden hand on his shoulder, Abby's fingers twining between his own, and Lisbon's concerned look. He could feel himself shaking.
"Easy, soldier," Abby's words were light, calming, and her bright grin disarming, leaving the CBI team unbalanced, perfectly unaware of their mentalist's breakdown, "Sure, meeting Gibbs here is a life-changing experience, but there's no need to go all to pieces." Jane sank back down to the couch, covering his sudden weariness with simple laziness, dragging Abby with him, Gibbs surprisingly letting her go.
The next words from Abby had nothing to do with the case, and she had planned them that way, gave Jane more time to center himself, and hide the lingering tremors, though the Goth's gut feeling was that Lisbon, if no one else, noticed the mentalist's trembling hands as they 'arrogantly' ran through his hair.
"So, Jane, since we don't know much about this area, would you be willing to help us find a good place have dinner at? Since this is gonna be the last chance we have for a non-takeout dinner for a while, I wager. Or at the very least, a good coffee shop, Gibbs is gonna need one soon." Abby turned to the man still holding her, and asked plainly, "How did you survive the flight? I know full well the complementary coffee is nowhere strong enough for you."
"Easy," Gibbs' lips quirked into a smirk, "caffeine pill. I've got more if you need them, Duck actually managed to get me a small bottle." Her answering grin was all that was needed at the moment, as her attention was turned back to the still unsteady man beside her.
"Oh, well, there's the Zipangu, if you like sushi and there's Lime Lite for general American, those are considered to be the best here. We've got a couple coffee places, but no Starbucks that I know of, if you like that." Jane was slowly losing the haunted look that had gathered in his eyes as he talked of trivial things, the tremors throughout his body easing.
"Lime Lite, I think. Don't really want sushi today. You can come with us, if you want, Jane." The mentalist grunted noncommittally, ignoring Abby's words, and the commotion such words caused his team; they were shocked. These two newcomers, these two Feds invited Jane, of all people, to dinner? Sure, one of them wasn't a full Fed, but just a forensic scientist for the feds, but still! Why not Cho, he'd been in the Marines, at least he could swap stories with Gibbs, who certainly had been a jarhead himself. Or at least Lisbon, she was team leader and all. Jane? The freaking mentalist? It was insane.
And it was exactly what they did, gathering up the blonde's things and all but shepherding him out the door. The majority of the team was too busy to note the look Gibbs gave Lisbon, but she noticed it, noticed and returned it for good measure. She'd be there to take care of him, when they thought he needed it…if he wanted it, that night.
