Snow White, a ncis fanfic

Genre: Romance/General – Oneshot

Pairing: McAbby (There aren't nearly enough of those around here.)

Disclaimer: I don't own Snow White, NCIS, or anything else. In fact, I don't even own any money, so you'd be wasting your time suing me anyway.

Spoilers: This fic takes place a little while after the second to latest episode, Honor Code. Yeah, it's a little bit late, but people are still writing about SWAK and Twilight, so it's okay, right?

A/N: This is my first NCIS fic, so please be gentle. Also... yeah, this is kind of cheesy. And random. But it came to me one day and wouldn't let go. So... just kinda keep an open mind when reading it, kay?

Alas for her!

Lips red as the rose.

Hair black as ebony.

Skin white as snow.

Everything is perfectly still. The bright computer monitors seem to be the only thing alive in the lab, throwing ghostly light over the room. The door hisses closed behind me, and the only sound I hear is the low thrum of Abby's computers. I call her name, and my voice seems to reverberate through the still air in the dark lab. I know she's got to be here. She hardly ever leaves, and when she does she makes sure to turn the computers off first.

Eventually my eyes adjust to the darkness, and I can make out a dark form hunched over one of the keyboards. I hurry over to her, worrying that she might be in trouble, but her steady, even breathing tells me that she's only asleep, her head cradled in her arms. Odd. She never sleeps.

I crouch down beside her and watch her chest slowly rise and fall, her eyes fluttering ever so slightly. It's so rare that I get to see her like this- she usually prefers guzzling caffeine to getting actual rest. She really should sleep more. She's always so beautiful and vibrant, but there's a lovely serenity about her when she slumbers.

The light from the computers falls over her face, reflected by her pale skin so that she looks almost luminous. Her dark hair is escaping from its pigtails, a lock of it obscuring her face. I reach up to brush it away, revealing her sensuous mouth upturned in a tiny smile. She's dreaming, I think to myself, and for some inexplicable reason the thought fills me with tenderness.

She sighs in her sleep, a deceptively soft, delicate sound that belies the strength and vivaciousness I know exists below the calm of slumber. Lying there so peacefully, skin as white as snow framed by hair black as ebony, with lips red as a rose, it strikes me that she looks just like Snow White, the beautiful fairy tale princess. I chuckle quietly at the craziness of the analogy. Abby's about as far as one can get from a Disney character, and the mental images the very idea brings up are simultaneously entertaining and slightly disturbing.

Still, I can't help but wonder if Abby, like the girl in the fairy tale, sometimes wishes for true love. Does she believe in it? Does she care at all? I wonder these things, and at the same time I wonder if I believe in true love myself; and if I do, how will I know what it feels like? All these question swirl in my mind, eventually coalescing into this single thought: that whatever I believe, at this moment the woman lying asleep in front of me is the most important thing in my world, and all I want to do is kiss her awake.

But I don't have to, because at that moment she stirs and opens her eyes. She glances around confusedly for a moment, trying to get her bearings in the inky darkness of the lab. Then she sees me, and a smile drifts over her face.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," I greet her teasingly.

She sits up and yawns. "The hell were you doing looming over me like that?"

"I was not looming," I protest, moving to stand up. "There was no looming involved. I was just... watching you."

She gives me that funny little "I'll never understand you" look, but evidently decides to let the matter go. "I was trying to catch up on my caseload," she answers the obvious question. "Gibbs made me drop everything to work on the case with that little boy's dad, and I've got a major backlog." She sighs ruefully and gestures toward the computer screen before her. "I must have fallen asleep typing up this last report."

I peer at the screen. "It's almost finished," I observe.

She nods. "Yes, but then I have to print it. And then-" she motions toward a pile of papers on the desk beside her. "I have to file all these." She twists a pigtail distractedly around her little finger.

"Tell you what," I reply, quickly making a decision. "I'll make a deal with you. I'll help you file, if you promise to let me take you out for a late dinner."

She eyes me critically, and for a horrible moment I think she suspects me of criticizing her weight or something. It seems that females' brains randomly malfunction intermittently, substituting such a criticism for whatever you actually just told them. But, to my great relief, she merely responds, "Thanks, McGee, but I'm a big girl, you know. I can take care of myself."

I hold up my hands defensively. "I know, Abbs, I know. But we can get through it faster this way, and you must be hungry."

She hesitates, and I can tell she's trying to prove to me that she's perfectly fine. But I can tell from the slight circles under her eyes that she's been under some major stress lately.

I cock my head to the side. "Please, Abbs? I just want to spend a little time with my coworker and friend. Is that too much to ask?"

She grins reluctantly, though whether it's from the idea of me wanting to spend time with her or from my rather loose definition of the word "friend," I can't tell.

"Okay, okay," she says, rolling her eyes. "Just go over there and starts sticking paper in files. I don't really care if they're in the right ones at the moment."

I suppress a smirk and hurry to do her bidding. A relaxed silence settles between us as she busily types and clicks.

I glance at her from the corner of my eye. In the glare of the computer screen she looks so industrious, right in her element, almost as if these were normal circumstances. Her dark eye makeup is a little smeared, however, and there's a rather prominent smudge of lipstick at the side of her mouth. It's kind of cute, actually, but I'll never tell her that.

We've got a nice companionable thing going here, and I have no idea how long it's going to last. I want to savor it. More for the sake of hearing her voice than anything else, I comment casually, "Speaking of the kid- you were great with him, you know. I had no idea you were so good with children."

She snorts softly. "Me? You're crazy. That was Ducky playing with Zach. I just watched."

I give her a sideways look. "I saw you with him, Abby. You were positively glowing."

She crinkles her nose bemusedly. "Really?"

Without waiting for an answer, she continues, "I dunno... I've never really been around kids very much. I've always just thought of them as sort of cute, kinda freaky, but other than that, not really noticeable, you know?"

I nod, and she adds cheerfully, "But then, I guess it makes sense that I should get along with them, considering I'm the most childish one around here."

"Nah," I reply, "you're not childish. You're childlike; there's a big difference." She raises an eyebrow, but lets me continue. "Besides, the award for Most Childish definitely goes to Tony."

She laughingly agrees, and we're silent for several moments, in which she prints out the last report and joins me filing papers. Then she speaks again, this time more thoughtfully.

"You know, when I was little, I actually wanted to have a baby someday. I was just like any other little girl, always dreaming about what kind of wedding I wanted and what my kids would look like. What I'd name them and how I'd dress them up all cutesy. Being an only child, I guess I was just lonely."

I ponder her words for a while, wondering if it's safe to ask the question that sticks in my mind. Finally I decide it can't hurt- much. "And you don't want those things anymore?"

She smiles wryly. "I've grown up since then, Tim. I know now that babies aren't all adorable 'goo-goo, gaga.' And after I discovered computers and forensics, I never really wanted anything else for my life." She sighs. "Though sometimes I do miss those days just lying around imagining a bright future for myself."

With an air of finality, she adds, "But it's probably a good thing; I'd make a sucky mom. Anyway, it doesn't matter now."

She hasn't exactly answered my question of whether she still wants a family, and the fact's not lost on me. But she's made it clear that the subject is to be considered dropped. Still, I can't help myself commenting, "For what it's worth, Abbs, I think you'd make an awesome mom."

The statement seems to startle her, but it evokes an unexpectedly warm smile. She lays a hand briefly on my arm. My skin continues to tingle where she touched it minutes after she lets go.

Eventually she places the last file in its proper place and dusts herself off dramatically.

"Whoo! Finally finished. Time to head home, I suppose." She gathers up her things, and I take a deep breath, psyching myself up for what I'm about to do.

She turns off all the computers in the lab, then looks back at me. "Coming?"

I nod and follow her through the lab doors. "Um, Abby?" She looks up at me questioningly.

"Well, um, I was just wondering... I mean, since we're having dinner together, and it's so late, I just thought it'd be easier if... maybe you'd like to crash at my place tonight?" We've stopped walking, and she's just standing there listening to me ramble on like an idiot. I swallow hard, imagining all her possible responses, from the blunt "No" to the slightly more forceful "Get lost, you loser."

But she surprises me yet again. "Won't your girlfriend have something to say about that? What's her name again? The one that sent you that porn video... Anna, wasn't it?" The rational part of my brain insists that I'm imagining that resentful edge in her voice. The dreamy part tells the rational part to shut up.

I nod rather sheepishly. "Yeah, that's her, but um... We broke up." There's a tiny glimmer of something akin to relief in her eyes. Triumph, maybe?

"Oh?" she asks nonchalantly. "What happened?"

She wasn't you, I want to say. That's what happened. Instead I just shrug. "It didn't work out, that's all."

The glimmer dims a little bit. "Oh. Well, are my clothes still at your apartment?"

"Yep. Tucked away at the back of my drawer, right where you left them." I don't tell her that her clothes are the reason my last girlfriend broke up with me.

Anna wasn't too happy about finding Abby's fishnets and bra lying forgotten in a corner of my closet. She confronted me about them, asking who they belonged to. I couldn't bring myself to lie, so I told her. She asked me if Abby and I were still involved, and I'm afraid I couldn't quite hide the regret in my voice when I responded that we weren't. Then she asked me if I was still in love with Abby. She left when I didn't answer.

I am brought back to the present by Abby's reply. "Good!" She links her arm with mine and leads me down the hall. As we walk, she declares, "You know, I miss your apartment when you're not single. It's very comfy. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy."

I raise an eyebrow. "And the coffin doesn't?" She swats my arm playfully.

We eventually reach the elevator, and she lets go of my arm to press the button.

As we wait for it to arrive, I stop and look at her. It's funny how I can derive so much pleasure from just watching her stand there, doing nothing. She notices me staring and gives me an inquiring glance. Rather than explaining myself, I simply reach up and brush away the smudge of lipstick still present at the side of her mouth. Her skin feels unbelievably soft against my own. I caress her cheek with the back of my hand, and her eyes flutter closed for a moment.

It's all the encouragement I need to bend down and brush my lips first against her forehead, then her cheek, then her lips. It's only a breath of a kiss; I am perfectly still, touching my mouth only lightly to hers, and for a second I'm afraid she'll pull away. Then she leans into me, kissing me back slowly, and in that moment I know she's missed this as much as I have.

Just then a sharp ding fills the air and the elevator doors open before us. I gently draw away from her, and she smiles up at me enigmatically, blue-green eyes sparkling. It occurs to me then that, for once, I seem to have done something absolutely right.

I place my hand on the small of her back, intending to guide her into the elevator, but she has other ideas. Reaching up, she grasps my tie and pulls me through the doors, a mischievous glint in her eye. As the doors close and she entwines her arms around me, the thought wanders into my mind that perhaps a guy like me just might have a chance with the fairy tale princess after all- and maybe tomorrow it'll be my turn to wake Snow White.