Chapter I
"I don't speak Portuguese."
"Neither do I" he said, his mouth asymmetrical in that little half smile that increased her pulse ever so slightly.
"Gibbs! How can you smile at a time like this?!" Abby was so flabbergasted the words came as little more than a croak. "We have no idea who these people are or... or what they want! And now we're trapped in this... box, this giant coffin or whatever, and-"
"Relax Abs. You can hear a lot without words." Gibbs was himself a man of few words; he relied more on his gut. And his gut told him two things: they were in serious trouble, and he didn't want Abigail Scuito to know how serious it really was.
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Agent Ziva David was pissed. Tony knew that look well: the set jaw, the smoldering eyes… and not smoldering for him, the way women's eyes so often did. Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo had a way of eliciting an adoring gaze from so many women, and a way of eliciting an extremely annoyed and slightly homicidal gaze from so many colleagues.
"I will not ask you again, Tony. Where is my chair?" she was three inches from his face, nose to nose.
"I'm glad you won't be asking again, Ziva, because I don't plan on telling you." Tony said down in his own chair, leaned back and stretched.
"Why don't you use the boss's chair? Until he gets in" Agent McGee offered helpfully, but even before the words were out his mouth he knew it was a bad idea. Ziva glared him. "Sorry. I'll… go… back to … um… this. Now." He resumed typing up the last of the overdue file he was working on. The last few weeks had been hectic, and he was looking forward to catching up today, assuming no dead bodies turned up.
"You could always sit here" DiNozzo said, patting his lap.
"I will stand." Ziva folded her arms and went back over to her desk. She tapped her foot impatiently. When was Gibbs going to get in and give her something to do? Or someone to kill, she thought, narrowed gaze burrowing into DiNozzo's forehead. DiNozzo's phone rang, Ziva picked it up before he could even react.
"Gibbs?" she said into the receiver, hopeful.
"Ah… are you looking for Agent Gibbs?" came the answer, in a thickly accented voice she did not recognize.
"Yes." She stated flatly, "who is this?"
"I am the person who is going to help you find your Agent Gibbs before it is too late."
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Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was rarely caught off guard, but he was not expecting the doorbell to ring that late. He was halfway up the stairs on his way to the door when he knew who it was: Abby. The two had always had an inexplicable connection; sometimes it just felt like he could feel her. He opened his front door and found he was right. Abby stood on his front step, hands in the pockets of her striped peacoat, eyes and mouth downcast.
"Abs. What's the matter?"
"Nothing. Everything. Well not everything, obviously, since you're here and I'm here and I'm fine but I'm not fine. I mean I am fine… physically anyway. Except for this awful twisted feeling in my stomach that I get when people – AUGH! Why do people have to be so… so..." Gibbs opened the door and stepped aside before she could finish. Abby walked in and plopped down on the sofa. Gibbs took the chair and leaned forward, elbows on his legs. He reached out and took her hand.
"What's the matter" this time it was a statement.
Abby took a deep breath. She felt better already. Just being around her boss seemed to do that. It was like he gave off an energy - an aura she couldn't explain. "It's men, Gibbs. I hate them all. Well. Not you."
Gibbs raised his eyebrows, Gibbs-speak for "go on."
"So there was this guy I had been seeing. Kind of. I mean, we were friends. And… I thought... I thought there was something more. You know, something special. But then tonight, I went to surprise him at his apartment and he was with another girl." She frowned, looked down. " I… I shouldn't be so upset… I guess."
He ran his thumb over the back of her hand. She ignored the urge to melt into a puddle and continued, "We had a couple dates and we… I mean, things got…well… you know," she rolled her eyes, suddenly too shy to talk about sex with someone she found profoundly sexy. "Things… progressed. Somewhat. But then Friday I had to cancel our date- we were going to see a midnight showing of Planet Nine From Outer Space at the Forum."
Gibbs looked at her blankly.
"Planet 9? Ed Wood? You know, the worst movie ever made?"
Gibbs shrugged.
"Well anyway, I had to cancel because of, well you know, the case, so I thought I would drop by his apartment today with the DVD and surprise him." Abby released Gibb's hand, stood up and walked to the window. She stood there a moment in silence. She inhaled, willing back the tears that were threatening to spill. She was almost ready to put this behind her. "I know her, you know." She said, spinning to face Gibbs. "She's another girl from his team."
"Bowling?"
"Yeah. He said they were just friends, but obviously not."
"How do you know she wasn't just visiting him as friends?"
"Because friends don't usually put their tongues down other friends' throats." She deadpanned. "I didn't even have to get out of my car. They were standing by his apartment door." She teared up at the memory: they had looked so comfortable. One hand around her waist, resting on her butt as he unlocked the door, sneaking a kiss as she went in. That should have been my butt! My kiss.
Gibbs exhaled. His eyes narrowed and he stood up. "What are you gonna do?"
Abby straightened as she faced him and looked him square in the eyes. "I'm going to forget about him. I am. I have. Practically." Abby could almost hear his thoughts: you have? She sighed. "I haven't. Yet. But I will! I'm mad at myself a little too, I guess. I never should have hoped. I feel stupid. Stupid, hurt, and…" she shook her head, "I'm… I shouldn't have bothered you, Gibbs. I just… I was driving home and I guess I thought…. I could use the company." I could use your arms around me right now. Her eyes met his, slightly questioning, appealing.
Appealing. Gibbs smiled. This was not the first time that Abby's eyes looked appealing to him. They were so clear, so honest, full of childlike innocence and wisdom beyond her years. He tilted his head to the side, "you want a drink?" he asked.
I'm bothering him. "No… thanks." She gave him a tight smile, "You have better things to do than listen to my lonely-heart whining. Besides," she added, more brightly, "tomorrow's Monday. Gotta be up bright and early."
"I always have time for you" Gibbs said. He wanted to say more, but instead he gave her a hug and a soft kiss on the cheek. He had pretty much decided that he'd have to settle for this: their friendly embraces and chaste kisses, the spicy sweet smell of her hair, and their close but somewhat familial friendship. If that's settling he thought, I should be grateful to settle.
"Thanks Gibbs. Goodnight." Abby gave his arm one last squeeze, picked up her bag, and let herself out. Once she was gone, Gibbs turned to go back to the basement, to his boat- the only thing that would clear his mind and get it off her right now. The front door opened behind him. "Reconsider the drink, Abs?" he asked, turning
Abby stood, just inside the door, the barrel of a gun resting on her temple. "She's not thirsty," growled the voice from behind the ski mask, and then quickly added, "you make a move I shoot."
Gibbs froze. Clad in his weekend uniform of jeans and a t shirt, he wasn't carrying his weapon anyway. "What do you want?"
"Come with me." As Gibbs let the gunman lead him outside, he felt a sudden sharp pain to the head, and then everything was black.
When he came to, he was in the back of a windowless van, arms bound behind his back. Abby sat next to him, staring straight ahead. There were streaks of black eyeliner down her pale white cheeks, but her eyes were dry now.
"You okay Abs?" he asked.
She turned. "Yeah. If you call this okay. Are you?" She stretched her body up, straining to get a better look at his head. Her hands were also bound.
"It's fine." Gibbs said. "How long have I been out?"
Abby sighed. "Uh, ten minutes? Maybe fifteen. We've been moving pretty fast the whole time- I think we're on the freeway. There haven't been many turns."
Gibbs nodded. He knew he could count on Abby to stay aware of the things that mattered, even under duress. The van lurched to a halt. There was a metal rolling sound- a garage door opening, perhaps- and the van moved forward again, stopped, and cut the engine. Gibbs heard talking, at first in English, then in what sounded like Italian. He strained to listen but couldn't pick up full words, only snippets. The doors opened and a large, masked figure stepped into the van. Gibbs and Abby squinted against the florescent lights as they were dragged from the van. They were in some kind of warehouse or storage facility: oil stained, concrete floors, a lingering odor of fuel. The men roughly forced them down in a corner, where a woman with a gun stood. "Good job. Put them here." She said, and Gibbs and Abby were unceremoniously plopped on the cold smooth floor. One of the men stood guard while the woman and other man carried on a conversation in what Gibbs recognized as Portuguese. Their voices calm and methodical.
Whatever this is, thought Gibbs, they've been planning it awhile.
They finished their conversation and the woman walked briskly toward the door. The man standing guard beckoned to the other. "What did she say? Now that we've got two of them… what does that mean for the plan?"
The other man shrugged. "I guess you could say" he said in thickly accented English "it means they die faster."
