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Madam Director
By cayliss


"Abby I need you to..." Jenny gets no further. There is an explosion at the far end of the lab, a body dives towards her and she finds herself pulled to the floor and covered by its owner, a spike from Abby's collar de jour dangerously close to her left eye. "Abby..." she manages, but the goth doesn't hear her, the horrific thought that she could have just killed the Director, obscuring all others.

"Abby," a voice says again, trying to stay calm while stuck beneath her and it is then that Abby registers she's squishing said Director and that if she wants to keep her job, she'd better move. There is no polite way that she knows of to scramble up from this position, so she rolls over, taking her companion with her and she hopes that wasn't the elevator she just heard, because now the redhead is on top of her and boy would that look bad... however good it feels.

Positions reversed and Jenny can breathe again and with oxygen, her sense of humor returns; but she doesn't smile, Abby is looking so distraught that she just wants to kiss the expression away.

Stunned at how fast the woman can move, Abby finds a hand held out to her and is perpendicular to the floor, in less time than it takes her to realize what nearly just happened. "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" She hits the back of her own head as she rushes over to the mess that's been created and Jenny thinks she's been spending far too much time around Gibbs. "I've been sorting crime scene evidence from Agent Carter's case in Shenandoah in between tests. I found an old percussion cap a while ago and put it to one side to check if it was still viable, but then I got a fingerprint match and I forgot about it... there must have been a static charge... and I guess it was..." She trails off as she turns and sees a frown cross the Director's brow, Abby does not make stupid mistakes.

"What time did you come in this morning?" Jenny inquires and is met with a shuffling of feet.

"That depends on how you define 'this morning'," the look the redhead shoots her makes her squirm even more.

"Well when was the last time you slept?" and she waits as the goth tries to come up with a point closer acceptability than truth. Epinephrine still streaming through her blood, Jenny finally snaps. "Go home and go to bed," she says and as Abby opens her mouth to argue, continues, "don't make me tie you to mine," and then thanks God no-one else heard that. The look Abby is giving her can only mean a world of trouble, but she's fought this for too long to stop now. "And no more spikes Abby," she says, trying to stay in control, "you nearly had my eye out."

When she had first realized this odd attraction, she had tried to impose a dress code; but Jethro had told her that they would lose the best forensic scientist any agency had. So she relented and stopped coming down to the lab, unless it was absolutely necessary... or her hormones overrode her common sense, which fortunately wasn't often. Lost in the thought, it takes her a moment to realize that Abby has taken off the collar and is holding it out to her. She knows she should tell her to take it home, but her hand is already there and her fingers can still feel its warmth. She thinks that if she lifts it to her nose, she will smell gunpowder; a fetish she's only just realizing she has, despite her long association with guns. She resists the urge... at least until she's back in her office. "Go home Abigail!" she orders and sees the woman twitch slightly before giving a tiny nod.

Two days pass. Jenny barely comes out of her office except for meetings on the hill and in the brief moments she sees Abby, who's spending more time than usual in the bullpen, the Director averts her gaze.

The third sees the goth sitting in front of her, "what did I say about spikes?" Jenny asks, torn between amusement and anger.

"Oh... I forgot," Abby says and knows she isn't believed. She holds out a key, says, "would you mind?" and Jenny realizes that this collar has a padlock and that removing it means getting up close and personal. It is then that she wonders if the attraction is mutual.

She thinks what a potentially career ending move this could be and that the young, vibrant goth, who flirts with everyone, probably just likes playing with matches. Walking round her desk she stands behind the seated woman and glances briefly at the key but makes no move to take it.

"Turn the collar round Abigail." Abby considers the order for a moment, then curiosity gets the better of her. She turns it until the spikes are at the back of her neck, the padlock at the front. Jenny smiles unseen and rests her hand on pale skin, grazing it with her nails as she does so and watching the flush rise to Abby's face. "Now open the padlock." Abby clenches the key in her fist, if she gives in now she... she misses the hand as it leaves her skin and starts to protest; then decides that this is too new and that she should pick her battles more carefully.

Watching as the padlock comes off and the collar is pulled away, Jenny returns her hand and indulges the temptation to lean down. The heady scent of homemade perfume assails her nostrils. Her eyes close and the hand currently resting on the other side of Abby's neck tenses, the goth instinctively leans in to it. Opening her eyes again, Jenny is presented with an expanse of tattooed flesh and knows that she shouldn't be doing this and that the wise course of action is to go and sit back down. Instead, she lightly nips the presented neck, careful to leave neither marks nor lipstick and grins when she hears Abby squeak in surprise. "Don't start something you're not prepared to finish," she murmurs in her ear and then steps back, opens her door and walks out to talk to Cynthia before Abby can turn round.

Arriving early the following day and on the pretext of bringing caffeine to the needy, the lab is her first port of call. Abby is there, the spiked collar is not and the weight of her disappointment shocks her, even as her head tells her she's had a narrow escape. Leaving unseen, she retreats the way she came, unhappy in the knowledge that her warning has been heeded.

A vase of black roses sits in her office and intrigued, she reaches for the card. It contains but two words and she feels a tremor in her hand as she puts it down on her desk. She isn't surprised, eighteen months of pent up frustration is coursing through her veins and she's not yet sure that that is a good thing. It has been too long since she has done this and despite yesterday's evidence to the contrary, she knows that Abby will fight her for control; but then she's always enjoyed a challenge.

Hearing movement in the outer office she presses the intercom, "Cynthia, is that you?" Pleased that her voice sounds steady.

"Yes Director," the woman replies.

"I have a dinner engagement tonight, who is it with?"

The air hums with static, then, "the deputy director of the NSA."

She pauses for a moment. Closes her eyes. Reaches a decision, "Reschedule it. Tell John I'm sorry, it's unavoidable." Releasing the button she realizes her hand is still unsteady, something she has a few hours to correct.

By 11.00 she concedes that the goth already has a tactical advantage, as the flowers sit mocking her every attempt at work. A tap on her door brings her musings to an end, as her assistant appears with some papers to sign. "Cynthia, is Agent Gibbs downstairs?"

"I believe his team have gone to Norfolk, Ma'am. Would you like me to contact him for you?"

"No, it's not urgent," she reassures her standing up, "if I'm needed, I'll be in the lab."

Pausing outside the door and listening to the music coming from within, she tries to remember the last time an HHE was done and wonders if she should institute a new regulation for the sake of Abby's eardrums. Knowing it, like all her other attempts, will be ignored, she decides it high time she started asserting her authority. Watching with amusement as Abby sashays across the room and seats herself before a monitor, she runs a hand through her hair and walks purposefully forward, "Abby," she says loudly as the door opens.

The occupant jumps and turns quickly, "Director... ma'am," she says standing and looking guilty. Walking over to the stereo Jenny reduces the volume to barely audible and remarks that the goth will be deaf before she's 40, Abby merely shrugs. "Tell me about the O'Connell case," Jenny says walking over to the table.

Startled Abby comes to stand next to her and complies with the request. "Er, Marine based in Norfolk, his body was found at..."

Turning her head, she looks at the lab tech with amusement, "I've read Gibbs preliminary report Abby, what have you found?"

Opening her mouth to reply, Abby sees the trap moments before she falls into it. "Um, I haven't had time to..." she stops as she sees the uplifted eyebrow, "that is..." the smirk that is currently adorning the Director's face is doing strange things to her knees and she grips the table for support. "Perhaps I should drink less caffeine," she hedges.

"That would be a good idea," Jenny replies, realizing the hypocrisy of that statement, "however, I came to tell you, that I've instructed security not to allow you on the premises between 22.00 and 06.00, without my explicit consent. You're not a machine Abby, you need to sleep." She pauses to choose the rest of her words carefully, "and if I am woken up at the time you arrived here this morning, there had better be a very good reason... and you had better be waking me personally." A slight widening of the eyes and a hitch in breathing assures her that the goth is temporarily off balance. Her object achieved, she continues, "Remind me to thank you properly for the flowers, when we're not on camera," and leaves Abby still staring at the table.

Hearing the swoosh of the lab door as she steps into the elevator and pushes a button, Jenny moves judiciously sideways to avoid being flattened twice in one week. "No cameras in here," Abby says, jumping in and killing the power as soon as the doors are closed.

"We're still at work," Jenny points out, wiping the grin from her face before Abby sees it, "did no-one ever teach you that patience is a virtue?"

"Perhaps I need a new teacher," the goth replies leaning, somewhat insolently, against the far side of the car, then adds, "Madam Director," for good measure.

She feels the Director's gaze sweep over her and thinks that maybe she's gone too far and Gods what this woman can do with a look. Hoping that hands will follow gaze her brain grinds to a halt as her eye catches the narrowing of her companion's and she is glad she already has the wall for support.

Jenny bridges the distance between them, hooks a finger into one of the rings on today's collar of choice and tugging slightly, brings Abby's face millimeters from her own, then she waits. "I uhh..." Abby manages before looking down.

"Abby," she says sharply and waits until the goth looks up again before calmly closing the gap. Breaking away some time later and smirking slightly at the dilated pupils in front of her, Jenny continues, "the flowers are beautiful. Thank you." Stepping back and turning, she regards her somewhat blurry appearance in the metal of the door, noticing that the tremor in her hand is back as she brings a thumb up to a corner of her mouth and wipes away a smudge of lipstick, unsure which of them it belongs to. "We can't do this at work," she remarks as she reaches over and flips the power back on.

Abby nods, then realizes that she isn't the one initiating this and that as things currently stand, they are decidedly one sided. She straightens and regards not the Director of NCIS but a woman attempting a coup on her body. While the thought excites her, she's never been that easy and remembering rule 18, begins a counter attack that she hopes won't see her unemployed. Moving to stand behind her pray she pulls Jenny back into her body and asks, "so where do you want to do it?"

Fascinated, in a morbid, train wreck, kind of way, Jenny watches their reflections as Abby's hands disappear from view beneath her jacket and she feels fingers dance lightly over her cotton clad flesh. Sucking in a breath, her head lolls back as lips appear at her neck and the thought that this was not part of the plan drifts fleetingly through her mind, to be replaced by more carnal ones. A hand moves higher. As a thumb brushes her nipple she bites her lip to suppress a moan and suddenly realizing that the elevator is slowing, reaches out blindly and kills the power again. Abby takes it as her cue to stop and stepping to the back of the car, props up the wall again in an exaggeratedly nonchalant pose.

To gain time and the full use of her faculties, Jenny surveys her general appearance and checking her neck, is surprised to see nothing amiss. She makes a mental note to ask Abby what lipstick she wears even as she says conversationally, "you know you'll pay for that," and thinks she sees the reflection smile. "I'll be home by 20.00... you know where it is?" she asks turning.

This time the goth definitely smiles, nods and says "Yes Director," for good measure.

The Director, in response, straightens and allows her eyes to wander lingeringly over Abby's body, before meeting and locking her gaze. Abby resists the sudden urge to stand to attention, but not before her companion has noted the faint movement of her limbs and felt distinct glimmers of anticipation for the evening ahead. Checking her reflection one final time, Jenny flips the power switch and the doors open on cue. Exiting the elevator, she heads to her office without looking back as a thought occurs to her. There is a definite flaw in her plan to improve employee welfare, because even if Abby is not in her lab, she still won't be getting much sleep.

The End

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