Title: Sarsaparilla II: Target Fixation

Author: Mindy

Rating: K+, some adult themes.

Disclaimer: They're only mine for as long as this fic lasts, then I promise I'll give them back.

Spoilers: nope.

Summary: Undercover goes wrong -- again. This is all about the KIBBS, not the plot.

A/N: For Sundance, the bounciest shipper of all! ADORES!

I am floating in a cold, dark place. My limbs feel weightless, powerless.

The world around me seems foreign but I can't remember anything familiar. I can't even remember my own name, however hard I try to.

And after a while… I forget what I'm trying to remember… or why.

It's peaceful here and calm, and I'm becoming numb to the cold. So I give in to the floating and the darkness and the peace.

-x-

Tony protested when Gibbs handed out our assignments. He thought that the older agent would be better cast as the fisherman on the rocks and himself as the romantic leading man.

"Boss," he laughed: "don't you think Kate and I would make a more believable couple? I mean--" His voice cut off as Gibbs and I turned to him with scathing looks.

"No," I remarked a little too sharply, which made both men look at me curiously.

I ducked my head into the file I was holding. If there was any man who fitted my ideal of the romantic leading man, it was my boss – even with all his foibles.

-x-

My eyes crack open and I can vaguely see flashing lights above me, streaming downwards dimly while far off voices shout insistently. I wonder whether it's me they are shouting for, whether they are expecting me to answer. I open my mouth, but no sound emerges. Instead, it is flooded by salty water and it's then that I realize I'm not floating.

I'm drowning.

-x-

Gibbs didn't want to overload the bay with agents, as that would make the intended targets suspicious. The reason that this secluded spot was popular for this kind of rendezvous was because no one ever went there, except for the crustacean.

So, he decided that Tony would be fishing near the rocks at one end of the beach while McGee was parked covertly at the other end. Tony had been less than thrilled at the dungarees and hat he was required to wear, while McGee had severe doubts about the rattletrap jeep that he needed to drive.

A few extra agents would monitor the entire area from above the restaurant and a boat would be positioned on the water. Meanwhile, Gibbs and I would play the part of a blissful couple who had come to the deserted area for a quiet, romantic evening.

Personally, I had no complaints whatsoever about my role.

-x-

I try to move my arms, but sharp pain lances through my chest. I scream in silence. I try again and the pain becomes worse. I double over, trying to pull in air, but there is none to be had.

I'm entirely disoriented in the murky, dim world, and wouldn't know which way to move, even if I could.

But the muffled voices give me some direction and, ignoring the pain I am in, I close my eyes and my mouth and I attempt to drag myself towards them and the light.

-x-

Gibbs looked incredible, dressed for the evening's operation, and I didn't bother to hide my admiration when I saw him, treating him to a modest but meticulous appraisal. I found it difficult to tear my eyes away, in fact. Black suit, blue shirt, open at the collar, hair brushed back from his face – distinguished and dashing.

"Well…?" he inquired, somewhat smugly, when we were alone: "do I pass?" he asked, his skin tinged with gold from the impending sunset as he drove us towards the coast.

He turned and cast me a faintly amused look, apparently fully aware of my scrutiny and his own innate charm. I arched an eyebrow at him, my gaze passing over his well-known and well-built figure once more. He'd obviously gone to a little bit of effort to look the part, I noted secretly, which pleased me, because I'd gone to a lot.

"You'll do," I remarked coolly, putting on my sunglasses and pretending not to notice the corresponding looks he was directing at me when he thought I wasn't aware.

The dress I'd chosen was red and short, my hair was softly styled and I'd sprayed myself generously with my most special perfume. I had to wear a black jacket to hide the bulky bulletproof vest that we were all unfortunately required to model.

As I was preparing for the evening's job, I was very well aware that it was an important surveillance operation and that I would have to keep my mind on the job. A lot depended on the final outcome – and not just the lives of the team involved. I was determined to not let down anyone – least of all, my boss.

But this was also as close to a date with Jethro Gibbs as I'd ever thought I would get. There was no harm, I'd told myself, in dressing for the occasion.

-x-

My head is spinning and I know I'm going to loose consciousness soon. But the current of the water is too strong and I can't get closer to the surface of the water, no matter how hard I try. I'm sinking and fast.

I try to pull off whatever I can, lessening my weight. I get my shoes and jacket off easily and am working on my flack vest when the light from above sweeps right over me.

For a silent, timeless moment it illuminates everything around me and I can clearly see where I am. I can see my own eyelashes rising and falling, and tendrils of my hair drifting about my face in the phosphorescent water. I can see my hands, pale and puny, as they rip at my restraints and my red dress, floating about my thighs as I struggle against the greater force that engulfs me. I can see the last of my oxygen bubbling out of my mouth and my blood spilling into the water about me.

I can see the bottomless deep beneath me, ready to swallow me whole.

With the last scrap of energy I have, I undo the vest and let it drop out of my hands. I feel lighter but the pain in my chest increases. The cold is worse too and I have lost feeling in my arms.

The light has gone away and the voices have stopped.

I am alone again in the icy darkness.

-x-

The restaurant was no more than a secluded shack, with a rickety verandah overlooking the water. Freshly caught lobsters and other creatures swam idly in large tanks, unaware of their impending death sentence. All the chairs and tables and knives and forks were mismatched. There were no tablecloths and only single white candles stuck in old wine bottles lit the center of a select few tables. But the view was beautiful, the place smelt incredible and the food lived up to the promise.

Strangely enough, I thought, as I sat on the verandah and looked across at Gibbs, who leaned back in his chair and gazed out at the sea, the wind messing through his silver hair; this was exactly the sort of place I imagined he would actually bring a date. Not at first, perhaps. Gibbs did know his cuisine and he also knew how to woo women – of that I was certain.

But he also delighted in ferreting out little hidden treasures like this one – perhaps because he was himself so secretive. I could imagine him bringing someone here after dating for a while. I could just tell, from the way he took it all in, that it was his type of place.

-x-

There is a sudden impact from above and I feel the water around me churn. Small waves pulsate about me and then I feel another body brush mine. I reach out with relief, my hands finding a bare chest as the body swims up in front of me.

I grab onto the strongness of him, holding on for dear life as two hands clasp my head and a mouth lands on mine. He pushes my lips apart with his, sealing our mouths together, and the breath I have been holding since I was knocked from the boat is replaced by the warm air from his lungs.

I open my eyes groggily and see Gibbs staring back at me in the bizarre green underworld, his eyes wide, his hair floating about his head, his muscles firm, holding up the both of us.

He slips his arms around my limp, grateful body, turning me against his chest and towing us both up towards safety.

-x-

I slipped my hand into his as we walked along the narrow esplanade, and furtively adjusted the earwig in my right ear. The sky was cloudless and lit up with clusters of stars. The night was perfect, except for the wind, which seemed to be picking up ominously, making the waves crash loudly on the shore.

Gibbs tugged on my hand as we reached our designated spot, with a discreet but thorough view of the bay. I faced the ocean, pretending to gaze up at the stars for a moment as the wind rushed through my hair. My hands settled on the peeling railing and I felt Gibbs position himself directly behind me, his hands resting beside mine, his arms fencing me in loosely. A warm tremor ran up my spine and I turned my head to one side, picking up the scent of him from over my shoulder.

"Beautiful night," I commented in a low voice: "for trafficking."

I felt Gibbs smile and murmur into my left ear: "You took the words right outta my mouth…"

He'd spotted our targets before I had, even with his poor eyesight. I glanced back at him and followed his gaze to four men in dark suits, shaking hands with another two, who'd just arrived by boat. They didn't look like they were there for the crustaceans.

"He's found some friends," he added, grimly.

I could hear over the wire Tony locking onto the group as well and McGee start to capture them on camera for identification. I glanced towards Tony's position but couldn't see him in the dark night.

"They've spotted you guys," he warned me in my ear: "Look amorous."

-x-

I can't stop gasping and spluttering for air when we reach the surface. My lungs hurt – everything hurts. I'm pulled out of the ocean by strong hands – I don't know how many and I don't know who they belong to. I just know that I'm freezing, my teeth are chattering and my entire body shudders with constant chills. Someone puts a jacket around my shoulders as I cough and collapse on the slick deck. I watch as the other agents pull Gibbs from the deep water and then my tenuous grip on consciousness fades again.

-x-

I admit I got a little too immersed in my role, but I wasn't the only one involved. I wasn't the only one to blame.

I averted my eyes from the distant figures looking our way and blindly reached a hand back to stroke my boss' face. He responded by putting his hand over mine and lowering his mouth to my neck. My other hand screwed up into a fist on the railing at the unbelievable sensation.

His attentions were deferential, at first, and perfunctory. But it still gave me tingly goosebumps to feel him so close, to feel his lips on my skin, his hands on my body, however tentative he was being.

"They still looking?" he mumbled into my hair.

"Uh huh," I replied shakily, scarcely capable of either speaking or breathing. Even if we hadn't been under the scrutiny of a couple of very evil druglords, I'm not sure I would've let him stop.

"Well," Gibbs huffed under his breath: "it's a tough job…"

He turned to look me, two fingers tipping my chin towards him and drawing my gaze to meet his. His hand settled back on my shoulder as I stared up at him, his face filling my vision.

"But someone's got to do it," he finished, quietly.

His lips curved up slightly at the edges as his eyes scanned my countenance intently. I knew what he was doing. He was making sure I was all right with the situation, with taking things a little further. As if he had to ask.

I held his gaze, hoping that he could read in my eyes that my trust in him was complete and steadfast. With one look, I gave him free reign to do whatever he felt was needed.

"You're the boss," I replied softly and leant back into his warm body.

Immediately the hand on my shoulder began to tug at the shoulder of my dress, exposing my skin to his sweet investigation. His hair tickled my cheek as he buried his face in the curve of my shoulder, planting soft kiss after soft kiss along the luckiest portion of my body.

Heat rose to my cheeks, my breathing deepened. My head fell back against his shoulder, as my hand slid from his cheek back into his hair. He pressed closer, trapping me between his hard body and the wooden railing as his other arm wrapped low about my belly, his hand landing on my hip. My knees gave out slightly at the thrill of feeling him envelop me so completely and I arched my neck, stretching to one side, submitting more of my flesh to his possession if he wanted it. Obligingly, Gibbs' lips slipped upwards, causing shivers to cascade up my spine as he nuzzled behind my ear and groaned eagerly.

I gulped stiffly, wondering whether that was a real groan, or whether I'd started to imagine things. But I didn't seem to be the only one buying into our cover or taking full advantage of the situation.

"You're in the clear," Tony muttered into my earpiece, then added slyly: "Very convincing, Kate. Can't wait for the next show."

"Zip it, DiNozzo," I snapped into the necklace around my neck.

"Touchy," he commented in reply, then added offhandedly: "…I hope McGee is getting this on tape."

-x-

My eyes snap open as my lungs heave to life again. Gibbs leans over me, gently cupping my head as I spit up another gallon of seawater.

The boat is racing and bouncing across the wild waves. There are flashing lights and people yelling. I wonder how long I've been out this time, how long Gibbs has been breathing air into my mouth and pumping on my chest to revive me.

Everything hurts so bad that I feel like I just want to die. But Gibbs pulls the jacket tighter around my shivering body, gazing down at me worriedly. His hair clings to his head, his skin gleams with salt and water and his cold arms won't let go.

He shifts closer, propping one of his thighs behind my back to keep me upright. I slump against his chest as he pulls me against him and his warmth starts to penetrate my frozen skin. I glance up at his face as he smoothes the wet hair off my forehead and see Tony standing nearby. He puts a gray blanket around both of us.

I don't want to die, I decide groggily – I just want to throw up.

-x-

"Tony," I muttered into the wire hanging around my neck: "we've lost visual."

"Me too," I heard him respond edgily.

We'd moved further down the esplanade, but still lost sight of them behind some tall rocks to the left of the beach. They were completely sheltered by the cliffs and shrubbery. We had no idea what they were doing or what their next move might be.

"I'm gonna try and get closer," Tony told us as McGee conferred with the agents in the restaurant.

"No," ordered Gibbs, speaking into his sleeve: "Get on the boat, DiNozzo. Kate and I are going in. Cover us."

"You got it, Boss," he replied promptly.

Gibbs grabbed my hand and dragged me towards the steps leading down to the beach. I followed, quickly as I could, thankful that I'd worn flat sandals. I pulled my jacket about my body as it flapped in the wind and glanced towards the dock at the other end of the beach where I could just make out Tony jumping on board our boat with the other agents.

Striding across the soft sand towards the breaking shoreline, we could hear raised voices in foreign accents above the constant smash and rumble of the waves. I nearly warned Gibbs that we were getting too close, that we would look suspicious if seen, but before I could open my mouth, the dealers appeared again, arguing hotly amongst themselves.

Gibbs gripped my hand a little tighter, and kept walking in their direction. "That's him…" he growled under his breath.

I glanced up at him casually, still trying to maintain our cover. He had that ominous look on his face – that deranged, determined look he gets – and I knew he was thinking about the two slaughtered families lying in our morgue and belonging to two distraught marines.

I stopped abruptly in my tracks, tugging at his hand and trying to divert his attention back to me, back to the mission.

"Gibbs!" I hissed urgently, glaring up at him: "Gibbs -- you're gonna get us killed!"

Gibbs halted, but didn't remove his gaze from the huddle of men now only a short stretch from where we were standing by the water. He wanted to nail these guys badly. And he wasn't going to allow their boss to slip through the cracks this time. But he had developed target fixation and it was going to blow the entire operation if I didn't do something fast.

From closer up, I could see the threatening glint in their eyes and the guns beneath their clothes. I recognized their rough faces from dozens of unsolved casefiles stretching back over years. They started advancing towards us purposefully, hands on their weapons. Gibbs wasn't moving. Tony and McGee were shouting back and forth over the wire.

"What the hell is he doing, Kate?" I heard Tony protest, his voice panicky: "You're too close. Do something--!"

My heart was pounding in my chest, my whole system on full alert. I only had one idea to preserve our cover and possibly save our lives, so I went with it. Impulsively, I stepped in front of Gibbs, grabbing his arms and jostling him slightly. He looked down at me briefly and I glanced sideways at our approaching company.

"Kiss me," I demanded urgently.

"What?" Gibbs asked, momentarily thrown.

I shook my head impatiently and grabbed onto his jacket, leaning up to press my lips to his. I could barely reach, but I moved in as close as I could and tried to make it look as relaxed and natural as possible. I raised my hands to his cheeks and closed my eyes, hoping he would catch my drift.

The shouting over the wire lapsed into a shocked silence. I pulled back, chancing another look down the beach to where our friends had stopped but were still watching us with interest. Gibbs blinked at me, stunned.

"A little help would be good," I told him edgily, then stretched up to kiss him again.

This time, Gibbs cooperated, wrapping his arms around me and pulling my body up against his. His head dipped and his lips parted to reciprocate eagerly and openly. One big hand smoothed down my back, resting just in the dip at the small of my back, pulling me closer and making me squirm in his hold. My head spun with pleasure as he switched angles, his lips sliding savoringly over mine.

The wind circled around us and the waves lapped at my feet as I wound my arms around his neck and for a moment forgot entirely about everything but the bliss of his kiss. He was an incredible kisser – the type that makes you go weak at the knees, the type you wait years to experience, the type you cannot get enough of.

What a cruel joke, I thought to myself, to experience it under these circumstances. It was the last thought I had before we both hit the ground.

-x-

Gibbs supports my limp body as I lean overboard and vomit. One of his hands is clamped around my wounded arm, trying to stem the bleeding. With the other, he strokes my back lightly and repeats that we are nearly there, that I'll be okay.

There is an ambulance already waiting for us at the dock. Before the boat even stops fully, Gibbs whisks me up in his arms, sopping blanket and all, and carries me ashore. The EMTs rush to meet us but Gibbs won't hand me over to them. They follow as he briefly reports what happened and climbs into the back of their truck.

He sets me down on the gurney, pausing for a split second and looking down at me. His hand strokes my forehead gently.

Then the EMTs ask him to step away so that they can treat my arm and give me oxygen. I'm reluctant to let him go, holding onto his hand. But Gibbs backs away and steps out of the truck.

He stands at the doors in only his saturated dress pants, his arms hanging at his sides and his breathing labored. He promises that they'll be right behind me and my eyes close in relief.

-x-

"You alright?" Gibbs asked, lying on top of me.

"Yeah," I mumbled, slightly dazed.

I was not sure what was happening but the evening was definitely not unfolding according to the game plan. Another cloud of gunfire rang out above us and I realized we were caught in the middle of it -- which was presumably why I'd been thrown onto the sand and why I was the lucky recipient of a Gibbs-blanket.

"Interesting diversionary tactic," Gibbs commented casually in the lull that followed: "You used that before?"

"Nope," I puffed, glancing about us but seeing only darkness: "Spur of the moment, what can I say?"

"Effective," he murmured, grinning down at me for a moment: "Maybe I'll give you a raise."

I met his eyes, smiling up at him incredulously and biting back an obvious rejoinder, as I felt the full weight of his big body covering mine.

Shortly, Tony gave us the signal to retreat and Gibbs got to his feet, grabbing my hand as I scrambled upright again. Together we ran for the dock and jumped aboard the boat with the other agents as it sped out onto the bay, pursuing the vessel carrying our suspects and their accomplices.

I pulled my weapon out from the holster strapped to my thigh, peering into the darkness as our boat raced over the turbulent sea. More random gunshots filled the air but before I could take cover and return fire, I felt a bullet graze my arm.

I stumbled backwards, crying out in pain. A second bullet scored my bulletproof vest, the blow against the center of my chest knocking me off my feet. Gibbs reached for me a second too late.

Before I knew it, I tumbled overboard and hit the water.

-x-

"Oooo, cooool," Abby coos, leaning closer as I pull down my hospital gown to show her the black and yellow bruise adorning the top of my left breast. "Wow," she enthuses, examining the mottled pattern: "you can actually see where the bullet impacted your vest."

"Yeah, I know," I nod, a little disturbed by her fascination with my nearly fatal injury. I hope she's not thinking of taking a picture and hanging it in her lab. I raise my head, glancing over Abby's shoulder to see our boss standing in the doorway, watching silently.

"Oh, hey, Gibbs," Abby chirps, bouncing on the bed slightly as she turns and notices him also: "did you see Kate's bruise?"

"Oh yeah," Gibbs mumbles, stepping inside, his eyes cast to the floor. "I got a real good look at it," he adds grimly.

I pull my gown up over my shoulder again and sit up straighter in bed. "It'll heal," I shrug lightly.

Gibbs stands at the foot of my bed, his brow creased as he examines the display of gifts on my bedside table -- the enormous bundle of flowers from Tony, the magazines from McGee, the chocolates from Abby, the balloons from Ducky and Palmer and various other treats from my friends and family. He steps forward uncertainly and hands me a large, glass bottle of amber liquid.

"Sarsaparilla?" I ask confusedly.

He shrugs and grumbles: "They wouldn't let me bring coffee."

"Sarsaparilla is great," I nod: "Thanks, Gibbs."

He nods too and stuffs his hands in his pockets. I set the bottle beside the bed as an awkward silence stretches between us. Gibbs glances about the hospital room indecisively. I smooth my hands over the bed sheet. Abby looks back and forth between the two of us.

I haven't told her yet about what happened on the beach between Gibbs and me. She probably found out from Tony anyway. I did still want to discuss it with her though; tell her how amazing it had been before everything went to hell.

Personally, I doubt Gibbs will ever mention it again. We've become accustomed to functioning amidst a certain level of latent tension. And normally, the mysterious inclination I feel around my boss is kept relatively in check by our work and our differing ranks.

But we've had other incidents like this in the past which have presented a sudden opportunity, a startling perspective, an alternate possibility for us. And despite the fact that nothing has ever become of them, the rare occasions that our mutual connection has had the chance to reveal itself have been some of the most exhilarating moments of my life.

Nevertheless, I am always left with an unfinished sense of anticipation, of hope, of overwhelming desire for which I have no outlet. I am invariably left wanting more of what I tell myself should not want.

Lying in my hospital bed, drifting in and out of reality, I have pondered and played with the idea of finally broaching the subject with Gibbs, getting his take on our situation, if he has one. But I'd wanted another woman's opinion on the matter first– and Abby knew Gibbs better than anyone.

"Abs," Gibbs finally says somberly: "I need a word with Kate."

"Okay," Abby responds cheerfully, nodding her head but not moving. "Oh!--" she realizes after a moment: "Alone -- right." She gets up from the bed and gives me a careful hug: "See ya soon, Kate." She picks up her lunchbox/handbag and pokes Gibbs as she leaves: "Be gentle," she hisses quietly.

The unnerving silence only intensifies when she leaves. We both smile uncertainly.

I tuck my hair behind my ears, relieved that I managed to brush it this morning, as well as washing my face and cleaning my teeth. I still feel slightly vulnerable, sitting in bed clad in only a thin gown; no makeup or proper clothes or PDA to hide behind. And while I certainly feel clearer now, I can still feel the effects of the pain medication I have been fed.

I don't feel quite like the Kate that Gibbs is used to. But at the same time, I'm pleased he's here. I vaguely remember his presence watching over me in emergency, hovering by me when I first woke, but I wasn't cognizant enough at the time to properly thank him for saving my life.

"How're you feeling?" Gibbs asks carefully, rocking on his heels.

"A little sore," I reply, nodding slowly: "Apart from that, I'm fine."

Gibbs bobs his head a few times, then slowly moves closer. Dragging a chair to the bedside, he sits down with a sigh, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Kate…" he begins, after a long pause.

"What?" I ask, biting my lips.

He looks up at me uncomfortably: "…. about that kiss--?"

I swallow and blink at him: "Yeah?"

"You remember that?" he asks dubiously.

I smile and glance to the side, feeling my cheeks redden. "I don't think I'm in danger of forgetting that in a hurry," I tell him drolly.

His mouth turns up slightly and he ducks his head: "Nope. Me neither."

Hope blooms in my bruised chest. I was pretty confident that I wasn't the only one who became so utterly engrossed in the moment that night, but memory can play tricks on a person. It's a relief to know Gibbs also experienced something of that extraordinary rush when we touched, when we kissed.

I'm still not sure, however, what he's here to discuss now -- whether he is trying to give me the dreaded Friends-and-Coworkers talk, remind me of the infamous Rule Number Twelve. Perhaps he is expecting me to dismiss our inappropriate actions as merely a ruse -- assure him it was all simply part of our cover and won't happen again.

Maybe that's what he came here intending to say himself. But he's not doing a very convincing job of it.

As I study his face, I remember the care with which he touched me that night, the intensity of his kiss, the way he looked at me when we were lying in the sand. And I remember him fighting for my life, giving me his breath, holding me tight, keeping me safe.

Maybe, it's my turn to take a risk, I think suddenly. Even if I'm wrong, I can always blame it on the drugs--or post-traumatic stress. But at least I'll have tried.

I lean closer, feeling my muscles cringe a little: "I never thanked you," I tell him softly, laying a hand over his: "for what you did for me…"

Gibbs raises his head and looks into my eyes: "I've never lost a man undercover, Kate." He smirks slightly and adds: "I don't intend to start with a woman."

My lips twist a little at his typical chauvinism. A comment like that would've irritated me when I first met Gibbs, launched me into a furious diatribe. I know much better now. I know him better. And I probably would not be alive if it weren't for his overly developed protective streak.

I inch closer, balancing on the edge of the bed, and sneak a glimpse at his mouth. I can just feel his breath brushing over my lips. The intense closeness I recall from the other night washes over me again, hypnotizing me instantly and prompting two hot patches to flare on my cheeks.

I want to kiss him again. I want to feel it so badly. I hope he's not going to stop me.

Gibbs places a steadying hand on my cheek: "Kate--" he mutters hesitantly.

I flick my eyes up to his then back to his mouth, ignoring his obvious resistance. Taking a deep breath, I tip my head to one side and move closer. But I can't quite reach him from my position -- our lips remain a breath apart.

"Gibbs…?" I sigh, wishing he would take the hint. I close my eyes, gripping his hand tighter: "…kiss me," I entreat in a whisper.

He pulls away warily, staring at me with a troubled expression on his face. "That's a very bad idea," he tells me hoarsely.

His eyes tell a different story though. Their blue depths sparkle with restrained fire. So many times, in the past two years, I've longed to be this close to him. To know what it felt like to look into his eyes without either of us hiding or retracting. To be able to touch him when we're not in the middle of a life or death situation. To finally have the courage to reach out and seize what I've always wanted to call my own.

I'm convinced that this is the best idea I've had in a very long time.

Tilting my head upright again, I look him straight in the eye: "So is getting shot twice and knocked overboard," I return adamantly: "But I survived that."

Gibbs falters, lowering his head: "Kate. I…" He leans back in his chair, completely disengaging from me. His hands are balled up in fists on his thighs as he stares at me, his eyes unreadable. After a long moment, he tugs at his pant legs and shakes his head: "I don't want to -- hurt you," he finally tells me in a tense, regretful tone.

I search his eyes with my own and reply resolutely: "Then don't."

My voice holds more than a hint of challenge. I know Gibbs. I know he is capable of giving me everything I need -- if he'll just let himself. I have complete and utter faith in him. And I have wanted this more than anything in the history of my life.

"Gibbs…" I murmur, sick and tired of the incessant, exasperating suspense.

I don't intend to give up so easily, or let this slip through our fingers again. Somehow, I sense that he feels the same as I do and wants to surrender just as badly. I felt his corresponding desire then and I can see it now, etched all over him, body and soul. And I am definitely not above a little feminine manipulation in order to convince him.

"Please…" I breathe evocatively, sending him my most enticing look and reaching for him again.

I slip my hand up over his thigh and manage to capture one of his big, brown hands. Our eyes lock as I feel it uncurl slowly in my grasp. Something inexplicable and magnetic occurs with just the skin of our hands slipping over one another and joining. I tug forward and Gibbs allows himself to be drawn closer.

His other hand returns to my face, as his gaze scrutinizes my expression intently. His fingers on my skin feel rough and warm as I stare back at him, my eyes brimming with promise and conviction and desire.

I let my lips part slightly and see his gaze drop to them, his bright sapphire eyes flaring like twin caged tigers. His breath becomes more heavy and uneven, and I can tell it's taking all of that famous willpower of his not to submit to what we both want.

Very slowly, I move in for the ultimate kill, tilting my head again so that my lips brush his when I speak, the shivery contact tantalizing. I draw in a shallow, shuddery breath, raising my hand to his chiseled jaw and drawing out the moment.

"Kiss me," I urge again, my voice breathy, my heart throbbing. "Please Gibbs…" I implore wantingly. My eyes drift up over his face, taking in every rugged detail, then flutter closed, overcome by the heady intimacy: "Now… please. Kiss me."

I wet my lips in expectation and hear him chuckle greedily before he finally succumbs. Moving in swiftly, his lips take possession of mine, warm and insistent and hungry. Instantly, he is on his feet, never breaking the delicious contact of our mouths, as he leans over and pushes me back into the soft pillows. I grin triumphantly through his kiss as my free arm reaches out to him, as best I can manage, one hand skating down his back and wrapping around his lower body.

He settles beside me on the bed, lying gingerly on top of me as one hand lands lightly on my opposite hip and stays there. The other hand is planted by my head as his mouth delves into mine over and over and over again, suckling at my lips one at a time and letting out deep, rapt groans.

"Satisfied?" he mutters gruffly, when we must break apart to pull in some air.

I gaze up at him, panting softly and squirming beneath the sheets: "Not even close," I reply happily, wrapping my good hand about the nape of his neck to pull him back down again.

Gibbs flashes me a pleased grin: "Me neither," he mumbles and swoops in to ravish me again.

-x-

I feel like I am floating on a cloud of lust and hope as I drive to his house. He told me to come but I'm still nervous about what will happen between us tonight. I have no doubts – I'm more worried that he might.

But when he meets me at the door, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and clasping a single glass, his blue eyes are free of hesitation or worry. He looks me over, possessively and for a brief moment I can't seem to breathe.

I'm powerless to resist temptation – we both are. We don't even bother with preliminaries. He doesn't offer me a drink. I don't get to see the living room, the kitchen, the basement or the back porch. We leave that for later.

His bedroom is the first place I'm introduced to, his large bed, dressed in blue sheets and smelling of him. I'm becoming dizzy and I don't think it's from the big sip of scotch I get from his glass.

He lays me on the bed and slowly removes all my clothes, kissing every inch of skin he reveals, his eyes lit up with heated awe. I can't seem to remember my name as I squirm beneath him in anticipation and pleasure. I clearly remember his though -- unable to stop myself from moaning it, loud and long and euphoric.

His body is magnificent, my hands cannot get enough, grasping at him as his mouth returns to mine for an enthusiastic kiss.

I'm drowning in his arms and loving it. His skin caresses mine, his warmth envelops my soul as his lips demand free reign over my body. My heads spins and I scream softly when he touches me so intimately, so knowingly.

I've never felt so completely out of control with any man. But as I gaze up into his familiar face, watching me closely in the dim light from one solitary lamp by the bed, a strange peace overcomes me and my resistance to the imminent freefall vanishes.

I sigh and open up to him, and Gibbs gently nudges me towards the brink.

My nebulous focus narrows to only him and I recall how much I have always wanted this, even before we met. So I give in to the strange peace and the timeless floating and the deep desire he incites within me.

And before I know anything, I'm tumbling towards euphoria, clasped safely within his keeping.

END.