Title: Superstition
Author: Jo. R (driftingatdusk)
Rating: R
Warnings: Some dark themes and images, violence
Category: Suspense, case file, drama, angst, friendship, hints of romance
Pairing(s): Mild McGee/Ziva, Abby/Gibbs, Tony/Other in later parts.
Spoilers: None.
Challenge: 'It was a dark and stormy night' NFA challenge. (Have to use the words 'stone', 'skin', 'atmosphere', 'earth', 'wind', 'fire' and 'water'.)
Summary: A killer starts targeting NCIS Agents. Will one of the team become a victim?
****
The beat of the music playing in the club still thrummed through her veins as she made her way out of the back exit into the alley way behind the club. She tripped over something imaginary and gave an indelicate snort of laughter, leaning against the wall opposite the door as she tried to steady herself.
She'd had too much to drink, Special Agent Riley Mason decided, another giggle escaping her even as she realised in some distant part of her mind that that wasn't a good thing considering she had a performance review with Director Vance in the morning.
She leaned against the wall and turned her face up to the night sky, smiling at the gentle drizzle that cooled her heated face. A few minutes of fresh air then she'd go back in and say her goodbyes.
No more drinks. No more dancing.
No matter how much cajoling, begging and bribing Abby Sciuto used to get her to change her mind.
It was her first night out with the women of NCIS and she had to admit to having had far more fun than she'd expected. She'd been wary at first, having only transferred to the Washington office a few months ago but the forensic scientist had refused to take no for an answer. She'd even teamed up with Ziva David to talk her into it and if Riley had thought one of the women on their own was intimidating, the two of them together was a force to be reckoned with.
Her friendships with both had surprised her, too. Abby because she'd been guilty of making a snap judgment the first time she'd been introduced to the forensic scientist, one based solely on Abby's Goth-like appearance and equally daunting reputation and Ziva because the woman had a reputation amongst the other agents for being something of a kick-ass bitch, one of the best but someone who was hard to get close to.
Obviously, Riley thought, those who said such things about the women hadn't had the pleasure of getting to know them both. She, fortunately, had. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed or danced or had so much fun in a long time and she couldn't wait to do it again.
The sound of heavy breathing cut into her thoughts and Riley's eyes snapped open, narrowing as she scanned the dark alley for the cause of the sound. Her body tensed, her hand instinctively reaching for the gun that wasn't harnessed at her hip.
A figure emerged out of the shadows and she relaxed, a slow, surprised smile spreading over her face as recognition dawned in her eyes.
"Hey," she greeted the newcomer, pushing herself up from the wall and stumbling a half-step forward in the process. "What brings you here?"
Her companion said nothing, just stared at her with eyes too shrouded in darkness for her to read the intent in them.
Riley frowned and took another half-step forward. "You okay?"
In answer, her companion began to mutter something. Her frown deepened when she realised it was more of a chant than an answer and she eyed the distance between where she stood and the door to the club warily.
Her reactions might have been impaired by alcohol but her instincts were still as sharp as ever and they were screaming at her to get away, fast.
She took one step towards the door and knew she'd never make it. Her companion was too fast, too strong with actions that weren't dulled by a night of drinking. She cried out as she was forced against the wall she'd just moved from, her head banging it hard enough to make her see stars.
The chanting grew louder in a language she couldn't recognise. She struggled, trying to get free, trying to fight and her eyes went wide when she felt the tell-tale prick of a needle being slid into her skin.
Riley slumped forward, her head resting for a moment against her attacker's shoulder before she was lowered to the ground.
Her body was paralysed but her mind was a whirlwind of activity. She couldn't feel what was happening but she was aware of it, could see the blade of the knife glinting in the light spilling into the alley from the street lights beyond it.
Mercifully, she didn't feel the agony as something hot was pressed against the stomach that was bared to the elements but the smell of singed flesh reached her nose and made her gag. She didn't feel the blade slice through her skin in small, precise lines but the scent of spilled blood washed over her even as she tried to get her mouth to cooperate and let the silent scream trapped in her throat come out.
The knife glinted again, once, twice. Slashed through her skin as easily as it would do melted butter.
A cloud slipped over the surface of the moon and her killer slipped away into the shadows. The rain fell on her sightless eyes as thunder rumbled ominously in the distance.
Inside the club, the music still hummed, dancers still danced.
Carefree and unaware of the horror outside.
*****
They laughed as they danced together, breathless and more than a little intoxicated. Ziva caught hold of Abby's arm when she almost toppled over on the four inch heels she was wearing, laughing when Abby just giggled and clung onto her, her happy mood contagious.
The two women stumbled off the dance floor as the song came to an end, collapsing into the seats reserved for them at their table, each reaching out for their drinks that had been guarded by the other members of their party.
"Has Riley gone already?" Abby asked, raising her voice to be heard over the music.
Charlotte 'Charlie' Pearson, Director Vance's assistant, shrugged and took a sip from the heady pink concoction Abby had persuaded her to try. "She said she needed to get some fresh air. She should be back by now."
Ziva set her glass down on the table with a frown. "When did she leave?"
Sharon Layton, NCIS Special Agent, glanced at her watch and also frowned. "About fifteen, maybe twenty minutes ago, actually. She really should've been back by now."
"I will go and make sure she is okay." Ziva got to her feet gracefully, showing none of the clumsiness associated with someone who'd had more than enough to drink.
"I'll come, too." Abby bounced up to her feet, clutching Ziva's arm to steady herself. "Maybe she's just snuck away. She didn't want to come, you know."
"But she was having fun," Charlie protested. She glanced at her own watch and made a face. "Damn, I should be getting home. I promised the sitter I wouldn't be too late."
Sharon smirked. "Oops, too late." She also stood and picked up her purse. "Want to share a cab?"
"Sure." Charlie and Sharon each turned to Abby and Ziva, the four women exchanging quick hugs in goodbye. "Riley went out the back door," Charlie told them as she picked up her jacket. "There was something going on with one of the bouncers at the front."
The four women went their separate ways, Charlie and Sharon out of the main entrance so they could catch a cab more easily. Ziva and Abby headed for the back exit, winding their way through the revellers as best as they could.
"Tony would bust something to be here," Abby giggled, linking her arm through Ziva's companionably. "He'll be gutted he didn't get a chance to gatecrash."
"DiNozzo does not understand the meaning of girl's night's out," Ziva agreed with a knowing smirk. "He has not yet met Charlie, has he?"
Abby rolled her eyes, reaching passed Ziva to put her hand on the door handle, leaning against it as she wobbled on her heels once more. "He hasn't started with the James Bond accent again, has he? No. It's only a matter of time before he starts using too much aftershave, starts polishing his shoes even more than usual..."
She squealed as the door opened beneath her weight and she found herself swinging with it into the cold night air. She squealed again as the cold rain hit her, rapidly drenching her skin through the thin material of her clothes and struggled to regain her balance as Ziva chuckled behind her.
The chuckle cut off abruptly as Abby gasped and gripped the door handle even tighter. Ziva moved to stand in front of her, not caring about the rain that soaked her as she tried to block Abby's view of the scene that lay ahead.
"Go and call Gibbs, Abby," Ziva ordered when she was able to get her voice to work.
"That's... That's Riley." Abby's voice sounded faint, as if coming from far away. Ziva tore her gaze away from the sodden body of their friend and turned her back on Riley, facing Abby and seeing all-too-pale pallor of her face. "It's her, isn't it? It's Riley..."
Shock dulled Abby's ordinarily luminous green eyes. Ziva reached out for her, gripping Abby's arms almost hard enough to leave bruises. "It's Riley, yes. Go inside and call Gibbs, Abby. Tell the manager, get them to seal off this exit. There is nothing else you can do for her."
Abby nodded after a moment's hesitation, stumbling her way back inside the club but they both knew her sluggish behaviour had nothing to do with her heels or the drinks she'd consumed that evening.
Ziva turned back to Riley's body, sorrow and pain filling her eyes as she stared at the still form of the woman who'd been dancing with her not more than an hour ago, so full of life and enthusiasm that it rivalled even Abby's.
"We will find who did this to you," Ziva vowed, wanting to move to the body and close Riley's open eyes but unwilling to risk contaminating the already disrupted crime scene to do so. The rain had done enough damage, swept away enough evidence.
Sirens blared in the distance and she could hear the murmur of curious patrons of the club as she stood baring the door, blocking the body from their eager eyes.
"Gibbs is on his way," Abby murmured as she came to stand behind her, wrapping a trembling arm around Ziva's waist more for comfort than to steady herself.
The two women stood in silence, standing guard over their fallen friend.
*****
Leroy Jethro Gibbs stared at the body gravely, squinting even in the bright lights they'd set up around the scene. He watched Doctor Donald 'Ducky' Mallard lean over her but didn't need to wait for the cause of death; her throat and her wrists had been slit, spilling her blood onto the ground only for it to be washed away into the gutter by the falling rain.
He could see the thin lines carved into her skin, knew they were symbols of some kind but would have to rely on Ducky and Abby to tell him what they were.
Abby.
She sat in the back of the truck, huddled under the jacket he'd thrown over her shoulders when he'd first made it onto the scene. Even from a distance, he could see the shivers wrack her slender frame and was grateful when he saw Tony join her, steam rising gently from the cup he held in his hand and offered to her.
"Ziva." Gibbs didn't have to wait long for Ziva to join him and studied her out of the corner of his eye. Anger radiated from her, anger and determination. He was glad. Anger he could work with. "Tell me what you know."
He listened as she relayed the evening's events as she knew them, her voice flat and carefully devoid of emotion as she told him how they'd been planning the night out for weeks, how Abby had orchestrated the whole thing. She told him that they'd all been drinking but they'd all been sensible about it – no one's drink was left unattended or, if it was, they bought fresh replacements. They stuck together on the dance floor, politely but firmly rebuffing the offers they were made from other patrons of the club. She told him how she and Abby had returned from dancing to find Riley gone, that the other two women with them had left out of the front exit and they'd decided to go looking for Riley. Told him how Abby had seen the body first, how she'd ordered the forensic scientist inside and done her best to secure the scene until they could get there with reinforcements.
"Was there anyone who didn't want to take no for an answer? Someone who was interested in Agent Mason in particular?"
Ziva considered the question, her brow furrowed as she searched her memory for anything that stood out before shaking her head, a sigh escaping her. "No. I don't recall there being anyone in particular. The club has security cameras. McGee has gone to secure them. If there was anyone I missed, they will be shown on the tape." Ziva's gaze drifted from the body where Ducky was working with his assistant, Jimmy Palmer, to where Abby was sitting with Tony. "I am concerned about Abby. She may feel to blame for Riley's death."
"Because she organised the night out?" Gibbs had suspected as much himself but was surprised to hear Ziva voicing the concern, too.
"Because she is the one who convinced Agent Mason to join us," Ziva answered calmly though sympathy shone in her eyes. "We both did but it was Abby who persuaded her in the end."
"I didn't realise they were close," he murmured, following her gaze to the evidently shaken forensic scientist.
Ziva shook her head. "They were not. Not really. But the potential was there." She gave Gibbs a sidelong glance. "Abby decided that as women in a typically male environment, we should make a concerted effort to stick together. An excuse to let our hair down, perhaps, but she will no doubt feel responsible."
"The only person responsible is the bastard who did this," Gibbs muttered, a little more fiercely than he intended as Abby glanced up and met his gaze across the crime scene, tears glittering in her eyes. "We'll catch him, Ziva."
"I know." Ziva gave him a short nod of agreement. "He or she will not get away with this."
Gibbs watched her stride away from him, towards the truck where Abby sat. Tony stood and made room for Ziva to sit down with her, making his way over to Gibbs at the same time as Tim McGee exited the club, canvas bag in hands.
"No witnesses, Boss," Tony reported grimly. "No one heard or saw anything. There was some kind of disturbance at the front of the club at the same time. A guy beating up on his girl. The bouncers were all preoccupied with that."
"I've got the security tapes," McGee chimed in when Tony paused to take a breath. "The manager was in his office keeping an eye on the screens. Said he noticed nothing out of the ordinary but we were welcome to take a look ourselves."
"Get the tapes back to the lab and get on it, McGee. Take Abby and Ziva home first." Gibbs ordered brusquely. "DiNozzo, inform Agent Layton and Ms. Pearson I want to see them in the conference room at 0900 and go through everyone's statements again."
He strode away from them without waiting to see if his orders would be followed; they'd been working together long enough for him to be confident that his faith in his team was not misplaced. He walked towards the NCIS truck, squaring his shoulders against a flinch when both Abby and Ziva looked up at him when they sensed his approach.
"I want you both to go home," he told them, softly but firmly. He arched an eyebrow at Ziva when she opened her mouth to protest, shooting a meaningful glance at Abby before the Mossad officer could argue. "I need you both fresh for this. Ziva, take Abby back to your place. McGee'll drive. Neither of you should be alone."
"I want to work." The protest came from Abby, quiet but still a protest. She looked passed Gibbs to where Ducky was gently loading the body into a black body bag and unsuccessfully attempted to stifle a shudder. "We've got to find out who did this."
"We will." Gibbs reached out and touched her cheek, drawing her attention to him, away from Riley. "A few hours, Abs, that's all I'm asking. Get a few hours sleep and then come into work."
Asking was the right term to use. If he'd ordered, she would have fought him, insisted that she was fine and just needed an extra large Caf-Pow in place of sleep. Asking made it personal, made it sound like she was doing a favour. Made her realise he was asking because he cared, because he worried.
Abby gave him a small nod while Ziva inclined her head. The latter got to her feet and held out a hand for the former, wrapping an arm around Abby's waist securely when they were both standing.
"We will see you soon," Ziva murmured as they passed.
Gibbs waited until he saw them get into the car McGee pulled up as close to the crime scene tape as he could before turning back to the crime scene.
An agent was dead and he had a feeling in his gut it was only there but for the grace of god that she wasn't one of his.
*****
It was always horrible when a fellow agent died. The atmosphere at headquarters became solemn and almost oppressive. Ziva noticed it as soon as she stepped off the elevator with Abby at her side and gave her friend a sidelong glance; from the look on Abby's face, she could feel it, too.
Neither of them had gotten any sleep, nor had they expected to. Abby had cried for close to an hour, curled up Ziva's couch with her head on Ziva's lap. She blamed herself, just as Ziva had predicted, and wouldn't let her friend share the blame no matter how many times Ziva tried.
Ziva herself didn't cry; she wouldn't let herself shed tears while Riley's killer was still on the loose. She focused on feeling the anger that built up inside her rather than the pain of losing someone who had been becoming a friend. Anger was a useful emotion, in her experience. Sorrow was not.
They walked through the bullpen together, Abby's expression downcast, her eyes fixed to the floor. Ziva walked with her head up, scanning the faces of those they passed.
Reading their sympathy, their curiosity.
It made her want to turn and run in the other direction. Either that or hit something – someone – until the frustration she felt was gone.
None of the others were at their desks when they arrived. By silent agreement, they made their way across to the second bank of elevators and down to Abby's lab. Sitting in the forensic scientist's chair at her computer was McGee, though Gibbs and Tony were no were to be seen.
"Hey." McGee stood the moment he noticed they were there, his concerned gaze sweeping first over Abby, then Ziva. From the look on his face, Ziva knew he wanted to ask them how they were but was holding back, probably knowing it was the last thing either of them wanted to hear.
"Have you found anything, McGee?" Ziva gave him an out, moving to stand at the desk so she could see the footage currently frozen on screen. "You are reviewing the security tapes, yes?"
McGee took a moment longer to turn his attention back to the computer. "I haven't found anything. I've managed to pinpoint your table edit the footage so I can watch Agent Mason from the time she arrived to the time... To when she went outside."
"Where's Gibbs?" Abby stared almost vacantly at the screen, arms wrapped around her middle as she stared at the freeze-frame still of five woman laughing as they sat around a table. "And Tony?"
It didn't feel like them, Ziva reflected grimly. It didn't feel possible that they'd been so happy and carefree only a few hours before.
"Ah, they're in the conference room. Gibbs wanted to speak to Ms. Pearson and Agent Layton."
Her hands clenched at her sides, Ziva fixed McGee with a frown. "They will not be able to tell Gibbs anything I haven't already told him. They were not there when we found the body."
"Riley," Abby interjected quietly. "Her name is Riley. Was Riley."
A pained expression passed over Ziva's face before she could school her features into a neutral expression once more and she moved forward to lay a gentle hand on Abby's shoulder. "Perhaps you should not have come in with me, Abby. You are obviously still in shock."
Abby shook her head, forcing a smile that both McGee and Ziva could see through. "I've gotta do something. I can't... If I close my eyes, I can see her. I need to do something, keep my mind busy." As if to prove her point, she slid onto the stool McGee had so recently vacated and placed a trembling hand over the mouse attached to her computer. "You guys... You can leave me to do this. I'll be fine. I'll call if... If I see anything."
McGee hesitated but Ziva motioned for him to leave with the nod of her head. "We will be upstairs if you need us, Abby. You will call if you do not wish to be alone, yes?"
Abby gave her another smile, one that was a little less fake than the other. "I'll call," she promised.
After patting Abby's shoulder once more, Ziva led McGee out of the lab and into the awaiting elevator. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the cool steel doors as they slid closed behind them.
*****
"Are you okay?" McGee ventured, risking her wrath by breaking the silence. Ziva turned her head a little to glare at him, fingers digging into the flesh of her arms. "I'll take that as a no." He sighed softly but didn't look away from her. "If you want to talk..."
"Talk about what, McGee?" She turned on him, her eyes flashing with anger and hurt she couldn't disguise. She reached past him and pulled the emergency stop, almost causing him to lose his balance as the elevator came to an abrupt halt. "Do you want me to talk about my feelings? Do you want me to tell you that I am sorry Riley is dead, that I wish she was not? Do you want me to say that I am angry her killer still walks the street and that I feel I let her down by being unable to protect her? I will not say those things, McGee. I cannot. We have a duty to her to catch her killer and make sure he cannot harm again. I will not let my feelings get in the way of that."
McGee stared at her in silence for several moments, studying her flushed cheeks and rapid breathing. He swallowed under the force of the glare she gave him but refused to look away and break eye contact. "You're not to blame, Ziva. Special Agent Mason was a trained field agent. She knew how to look after herself. If you think she'd be alive if you'd gone out with her, you'd be wrong. Whoever killed her might have killed you, too."
Ziva looked away but not before he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. "If I had not helped Abby talk her into joining us, Riley would not have been at the club last night. She would still be alive."
"And you or Abby might be dead in her place." He took a step closer, wanting to comfort her but not sure how he could without risking her anger once more. "Would you rather that? Would you prefer it to be Abby's murder we're investigating?" It was a harsh thing to say and drew a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob from her throat but McGee shuffled closer when she shook her head, tentatively reaching out to touch her arm. "You're not blaming Abby, are you? So you can't blame yourself, either, unless you think she's at least partly responsible for it."
"Of course I do not blame her." Ziva sniffed and wiped a hand over her cheek. "She was having a good time, McGee. She said she had not expected to find friends so soon after she moved to DC. We were already planning a second night out. We were going to surprise Abby for her birthday next month." She turned her head a little and looked at him, a lost expression on her face she didn't have it in her to hide. "We will not be able to do that now. I do not think any of us will feel like going out again."
He debated with himself for a split second, torn between respecting her personal space and the need that rose inside him to comfort her. Ziva was one of the strongest women he knew – if not the strongest – and he knew she prided herself on keeping her emotions in check. Still, the sight of a tear slipping down her cheek made the decision an easy one to make and he stepped up to wrap her in his arms.
She stood stiffly in his embrace for a moment, back and shoulders tense before she seemed to melt against him, saying nothing as she wrapped her own arms around his waist, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. He heard the hitch in her breathing, felt her shudder against him and tightened his arms, biting back the meaningless words of comfort and reassurance he knew would do nothing but irritate her.
There was nothing he or anyone else could say to make her feel better or the situation go away.
After several long minutes, Ziva straightened and pulled away. She ran a hand through her hair as McGee took a step back, an embarrassed though thankful smile on her face as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
"Thank you, Tim," she said eventually, her voice almost too quiet despite the silence of the elevator.
"Anytime." McGee returned her smile with one of his own and reached out for the emergency stop, hesitating for a split second before activating it and setting the elevator in motion again.
*****
Charlie and Sharon sat on one side of the table, Gibbs and Tony on the other. Sharon – Special Agent Layton, toyed with the solid gold wedding band on her finger while Charlie Pearson clasped her hands together so tightly her knuckles were bloodless.
The agent was a petite Hispanic with unruly curls refusing to be tamed by the hair clip she wore and dark brown eyes she rarely lifted from the table. The PA was a tall blond with sharp blue eyes that met and held Tony's enquiring gaze several times throughout their meeting.
"The bar tender said you left a few minutes after Agent Mason," Tony said, addressing Charlie as he glanced up from the notepad in front of him. "You returned to the table after a few minutes. Where'd you go?"
"I went to the bathroom," Charlie answered, the slightly pink tinge to her cheeks the only outward sign she was embarrassed by the line of questioning. "I offered to go outside with Riley but she said she'd be fine."
"You went to the bathroom on your own?"
A blond eyebrow rose coolly. "I've been peeing without help since I was two, Agent DiNozzo. I don't need someone to hold my hand."
Her retort brought a slight smile to Sharon's face and even Gibbs, Tony suspected, would look faintly amused if he could bring himself to tear his gaze away from the blond sitting opposite him. "I thought you ladies went to the bathroom in pairs," he replied, refusing to be beaten. "Isn't that what you girls do?"
"On occasion, if there's someone in earshot we want to talk about," Charlie shot back instantly. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, the cool expression slipping under the weight of the situation. "One of us had to stay at the table to look after the drinks. Sharon volunteered so Riley could get some fresh air and I could use the bathroom. Ziva and Abby looked like they were having fun on the dance floor and we didn't want to disturb them." She let one shoulder rise and fall in a shrug, her blue eyes shadowed. "We were all having fun. It was the best night I've had in a long time or at least it was until you called me this morning and told me Riley was dead."
There was a beat of silence before Gibbs took over, shifting ever-so-slightly in his seat to get the two women focused on him. "You left at the same time last night. Before the... Before Agent Mason was found."
It was Sharon who answered, her shoulders straightening slightly at being addressed by a senior agent. "We decided to share a cab. My husband was expecting me back and Charlie promised her sitter she wouldn't be too late."
"Sitter?" It was Tony again, an eyebrow rising. "You have a kid?" His gaze dropped subconsciously to her bare ring finger.
"I have a son. Luke." She covered her empty ring finger with a hand. "His father died in Afghanistan four years ago so I had my neighbour's daughter looking after Luke last night."
"Did either of you notice anything strange? See anyone paying too much attention to your table?"
Both women shook their heads in unison. "There were a couple of guys who hung around at first. They left when Ziva told them we weren't interested."
A few questions more and the two women were allowed to leave. Sharon chose to go home to her husband while Charlie decided to stay at work until her son finished school; like Abby and Ziva, she needed to keep busy.
"They're in shock," Tony commented to Gibbs, following his boss out of the conference room.
"Not surprising." Gibbs kept his pace steady, slowing only when they reached the bullpen and found both McGee and Ziva hard at work at their desks. "What are you doing here, David? I thought I told you to take the morning off."
Ziva barely glanced up at him from the files and folders on her desk. "Both Abby and I decided we needed to work."
Gibbs nodded slowly, gaze wandering to the far elevator bank thoughtfully. "Abby in her lab?"
"She's looking through the security tapes, Boss." McGee met Gibbs glare evenly. "She insisted. She said she needed to do something and she'd call if she found anything."
The phone on Gibbs' desk rang before he could say anything further.
*****
The images on the plasma screen were thankfully blown up photographs that revealed the markings etched into Riley Mason's skin but weren't obviously linked to the woman herself. Ducky stood beside Abby at her computer while Gibbs and his team gathered around the large plasma screen.
"These incisions were found cut into the skin of Agent Mason's stomach, each placed at the point of the shape burnt into her skin." It was Ducky who talked them through it while Abby mechanically pressed the buttons on her keyboard, changing the pictures to fit with the ME's speech. "The shape burnt into her skin is that of an inverted pentagram, often associated with Satanism and devil worship. There are four symbols in total, each at the four points of the pentagram barring the slightly elongated point at the bottom. With Abby's help and that of the internet, we've been able to identify the symbols."
"Earth," Ducky murmured as Abby clicked the mouse to bring a close-up photograph on the screen.
"Air." Click.
"Wind." Click.
"Water." Click.
The four images were set side-by-side, showing how each of the symbols were carved neatly into the skin.
"The symbols themselves are commonly associated with Wicca or Paganism but I fear the person or persons responsible for this are using them for darker purposes." Ducky placed a hand on Abby's shoulder when he noticed her hand tremble. "Both the Wiccan and Pagan religions are peaceful and have a strong message of harming none."
Another click of the mouse and another set of images appeared on screen. Images that made Abby blanch and Ziva look away.
Ducky cleared his throat before continuing. "The same knife was used to engrave the symbols into the body as was used to slit both her wrists and her throat. We're looking for a very sharp instrument, Jethro. Perhaps a scalpel of some sort." He cleared his throat again and clicked the button of the mouse himself when Abby seemed frozen in place, transfixed by the images, watching her blink as the photographs disappeared from her line of sight. "The toxicology report came back and revealed she'd been injected with a high dose of pancuronium. It's a muscle relaxant and one of the three drugs used in the lethal injection given to those on death row. A dose as large as this would have rendered her immobile within three to five minutes."
"Would it have prevented her from calling for help?" Gibbs asked, moving away from the darkened plasma screen to approach Ducky and Abby. "Stopped her from fighting her attacker?"
"Indeed it would." Ducky's expression was grim. "She would have been powerless, unable to do anything to stop him. She would have felt little pain."
"But she'd have known what was happening to her," Abby added quietly, her own knowledge of the drug preventing her from taking comfort in his words. She was a forensic scientist; she'd studied the textbooks and read the case files. She, better than anyone, knew what Ducky wasn't willing to say. "She'd have been conscious. Maybe she couldn't feel it all but she'd have known it was happening."
A tense silence followed her declaration. Abby turned on her heel and left the lab abruptly. Ziva started to go after her but stopped when she noticed Gibbs had beaten her to it.
"Poor girl," Ducky murmured. No one knew if he was talking about Riley Mason or Abby but no one asked. "You will catch this killer," he added, his gaze moving from Tony's face to Ziva's to McGee's.
"We will, Ducky." Tony made the promise but they all vowed to keep it.
Ducky gave them a small nod and made his own exit from the lab, mind set on returning to the morgue, returning to his patient so she wouldn't be alone.
*****
The water was cold against her face but her skin still felt uncomfortably warm. Abby splashed her face again, not sure if the rivulets running down her cheeks were drops of water or tears but she couldn't bring herself to care either way. She closed her eyes and reached blindly for the paper towels sitting just a short distance away from the sink, unsurprised when she felt the warmth of someone else's hand as well as the dryness of the towels.
She dabbed her face slowly, taking her time, and reluctantly pried her eyes open.
The reflection that joined her own in staring back at her through the mirror wasn't the one she was expecting. She met his gaze for a few seconds before looking away, staring down at the paper towel her hands were busily shredding.
Gibbs said nothing for a long time, giving her time, leaving it up to her.
"I talked her into going out," Abby said eventually, still unable to look up at him. "I told her it'd be fun. A couple of girls, a lot of drinks and a lot of dancing." She gave a snort of bitter laughter as a tear ran down her cheek. "What could go wrong? That's what I said. That's what I told her."
"You couldn't have known, Abby."
Another bigger laugh escaped her. She lifted an unsteady hand to her cheek, wiping away the tears angrily. "I don't have your gut, that's for sure. If I did, then maybe..."
"Don't." The edge to his voice surprised her just as he'd intended. Abby looked up at him, a question in her green eyes. "Don't second guess. Don't lose yourself in maybe's and if only's. It won't help, Abs. Take it from one who knows."
"If she hadn't come out with us, she'd still be alive. If I hadn't pushed her and refused to take no for an answer..." Abby's eyes slid closed and she felt more than saw him get closer, felt the heat of his body as he wrapped his arms around her. "I killed her, Gibbs. It's my fault she's dead."
Gibbs shook his head even though he knew she couldn't see it and drew her against his chest, holding her close as her body shook with yet more tears. He brushed his lips against the top of her head and let his own eyes close for a moment – opening them rapidly when the image of Mason's body was replaced with one of Abby lying dead in the alley behind the club. His arms tightened around her and he ground his jaw against the tide of emotions that threatened his composure.
It could've been Abby. Could've been Ziva. That was the thought that'd been going through his head all morning, the fear he couldn't quite shake.
"It's no one's fault but the bastard who did it," he murmured instead, keeping his arms around her even as she started to draw away. "You can't take the blame for this, Abs. There was nothing you could've done to stop it."
Doubt shone in her eyes but she gave him a small nod and made a watery attempt at a smile. "I didn't find anything on the tapes," she told him quietly, still in the protective circle his arms provided. "There's nothing unusual, no one that stands out. Whoever did this either knows how to stay under the radar or was just hanging out in the alley hoping someone came outside."
"We'll catch him." Unable to help himself, Gibbs closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to her forehead, a hand lingering at her cheek as he caught the lone tear that escaped with his thumb. "And we'll make him pay."
*****
Special Agent Rick Bartlett let himself into his apartment with a noise that was both a yawn and a sigh. It'd been a tough day at the Navy Yard, all tense and uncomfortable following the news that one of them had been murdered.
He loosened his tie and threw it along with his jacket over the back of the arm chair opposite the door. He headed straight for the open plan kitchen, straight to the fridge, and took out one of the bottles of beer already nicely cooled and waiting for him.
He hadn't known the dead agent personally; she'd been relatively new to the Washington office and he couldn't actually recall exchanging words with her but it didn't matter. Not really.
One of them was dead and they all felt the loss on some level.
He walked from his kitchen to his bedroom, alternatively shedding clothes and swinging the beer out of the bottle in his hand.
He wanted a shower, another beer, and his bed. In that order.
He got none of them.
His attacker pounced the moment he walked through the door, the sting of a needle in his arm through the thin cotton material of his shirt rendering him unable to fight within minutes. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, dry and heavy, but he couldn't get it to move for some reason.
He couldn't shout, couldn't fight.
Couldn't do anything but stare at the ceiling as his shirt was cut away, his attacker humming – no, chanting – as he worked steadily.
Bartlett was dead within the hour, his throat and wrists slashed, an inverted pentagram burnt into his flesh and the four elements carved into his skin.
His body was found almost fifteen hours later by Special Agent Elliot Costner, his team mate and friend, who'd stopped by to see why Bartlett hadn't shown up at the NCIS headquarters.
*****
Shock, anger and a note of fear filled the air of the NCIS headquarters once news of the murder of another one of their agents spread.
Rick Bartlett had been well-liked amongst his peers, a playboy type with a sometimes too healthy sense of humour. He and Tony DiNozzo got along well, often conspiring together to play jokes on the more junior members of their team – Costner in Bartlett's case, McGee in Tony's.
"Our killer is indiscriminate where gender is concerned," Ducky commented as he leaned over the body, weariness lining his features. "But everything else about this poor man's murder is the same as Agent Mason's. The symbols are the same, the positioning of them almost identical. Whoever it is, they have a very steady hand, Jethro. I'd even say practised."
"There's no sign of forced entry," Tony reported, his jaw clenched as he tried not to stare at the still form of his friend. "Neighbours don't report hearing anything unusual. Bartlett came in around seven. Said hello to the woman across the hall when they met on the stairs. There was no one with him."
"So either the killer came later or was here waiting." Gibbs glanced at the body, then at Tony. "Go back to the office," he ordered in a slightly gentler tone than normal, "see if you can find a link between Bartlett and Mason. Take McGee with you."
Tony gave his friend's body one last look before leaving, McGee following him with a troubled expression on his face.
"Riley's death was not an accident," Ziva spoke up once her team mates were gone. "Our killer is targeting NCIS agents."
"So it would appear," Gibbs responded noncommittally. "There might be something that links the two victims. Something outside of NCIS."
"Perhaps," Ziva conceded quietly. "But you do not think so."
Gibbs met her gaze and shook his head slightly, a sigh escaping him. "No. I don't." He crouched beside Ducky, frowned at the markings both carved and burnt into Bartlett's skin. "Any sign of an injection site, Duck?"
With a small nod, Ducky lifted the dead agent's arm and motioned to the small, almost invisible red mark. "It's a small mercy that he probably didn't feel much if any pain."
"He still would've been aware of what was happening to him," Gibbs pointed out, Abby's reaction in the lab not twenty-four hours earlier coming back to him with startling clarity.
"Unfortunately so." Ducky leaned back on his haunches and looked at Gibbs. "If there isn't a link between Agents Mason and Bartlett, Jethro…"
"I know, Duck. I'll see Vance and make sure all agents are told to be on their guard." Gibbs' expression became even more troubled. "Not just the agents," he added quietly. "You, Abby and the other non-agent personnel should be careful, too."
Concern filled Ducky's eyes. "How is Abby? Have you spoken to her this morning?"
"Yeah." Another sigh escaped him and Gibbs ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head slightly. "She spent the night in her lab. I doubt she got any sleep."
"Unsurprising." Ducky zipped up the body bag they'd placed the agent into. "She's sensitive, Jethro. She'll worry all the more about you all until this killer is caught."
Gibbs agreed silently. Ducky and Jimmy carefully lifted the body onto the stretcher and carried it out of the apartment. Gibbs and Ziva followed after taking one last look around, sealing the apartment securely before they, too, headed back to the Navy Yard.
*****
While Bartlett's death gave her a new lot of evidence to concentrate on, it also served as a reminder that NCIS agents, while more than able to take care of themselves, were not immune to the death and destruction they investigated on a daily basis.
Abby tried to lose herself in her tests, talking to her machines, playing her music – more sedate than usual – as loudly as she dared. It didn't work as well as she'd hoped. Every time she found herself with a spare second, a minute where she was in-between tests or results, Abby couldn't help but picture Riley in her head, picture Bartlett.
Then her imagination would take over and she'd see Gibbs or Tony, McGee or Ziva.
The thought was powerful enough to stop her in her tracks, to make her head swim and her stomach turn. It took a few seconds to remind herself it wasn't real, to remind herself to breathe.
The Caf-Pow Tony had brought her that morning sat untouched on her desk; she felt nauseous enough without it.
Distracted by her thoughts, trying so hard to concentrate on her work that she didn't hear the ring of the bell as the elevator stopped on her level, Abby jumped when she felt a pair of hands on her shoulders, her heart pounding in her chest even as the scent of sawdust registered in her mind.
The hands rubbed her shoulders in slow, soothing motions. Familiar motions. She closed her eyes against the sting of tears in them, concentrating on the sensation, focusing on it, using it to keep the horrible images away.
"You don't have to be here, Abs." He kept his voice soft but it still disturbed the self of unreality she'd created. "If you want to go home, we can call in a temp…"
Abby shook her head, reluctantly forcing him to drop his hands from her shoulders as she turned on the stool to face him. "I need to be here. I need to be part of this."
Gibbs' eyes locked with hers, darkening to a deeper shade of blue as he let his concern show. "You need to sleep, Abby. And you need to eat something."
She opened her mouth as if to argue, a line furrowing her brown when she realised she couldn't say what she'd been planning to; she couldn't remember the last time she'd actually eaten something she'd managed to keep down or got more than an hour's sleep without her nightmares intruding and causing her to wake up with a scream lodged in her throat. Instead, she shook her head, forcing a smile she knew he'd see through to turn up the corners of her mouth. "I've not been hungry," she answered eventually, evasively. "I'll eat when I feel like it."
The look he gave her was half-disapproving, half-exasperated. One hand returned to her shoulder, fingers brushing the skin of her neck just above the line of her top. "You'll eat now. We'll go wherever you want for lunch."
"You…" Abby frowned again, her jaw dropping in surprise for a moment. "You're in the middle of a case. You never take a lunch break when you're working a case. It's like an unofficial Gibbs rule."
"Call this an exception. Every rule has one." His hand moved from her neck, over her shoulder and down her arm. He tugged her up onto her feet by her hand, giving her a look that suggested to argue with him would be pointless.
"Every rule?" A small smirk played on her red-painted lips and a hint of the old Abby sparkle appeared in her eyes. "Including all of your infamous rules?"
There was a beat of considering silence; Gibbs gazed down at her. "Every rule, Abs," he said eventually, tugging her hand again to get her moving forward. "You can decide what you want in the car."
Not sure if they were still talking about lunch or something entirely different, Abby let him lead her out of her lab, only slightly disappointed when he dropped her hand before they exited the elevator on the third floor. Her mind was still troubled, her stomach still uneasy, but her smiles came easier after that, some of them almost reaching her eyes again.
*****
The three agents gave Gibbs and Abby their lunch orders before watching the duo leave in silence. Tony sat down slowly on the edge of his desk as the elevator doors closed behind them, a speculative look on his face as he stared after them.
"Gibbs never goes on lunch," he observed, his brow furrowing. "Especially not during a case."
"Perhaps he thought Abby needed a break," Ziva suggested. She had a small smile on her face, the first since discovering Riley's body in the alley of the club. "It is good of him to take care of her, yes?"
"Yeah." Tony 's brow was still furrowed. "Yeah, I guess."
McGee raised his eyebrows at Ziva, sighing when she just shrugged her shoulders and sat down at her desk. "Something wrong, Tony?"
"No. Not really." Tony shook his head but the frown only deepened. "You don't think..? Nah. That's not possible."
"What isn't?" Ziva barely glanced up from her computer screen, apparently unperturbed by the situation.
"I was just thinking... It's stupid, really. Impossible. It's not like she... And he..." Tony shook his head again but stared off into space with a thoughtful look on his face.
With a sigh of impatience, McGee crossed the distance from his desk to stand in between Tony and Ziva. "What is, Tony?"
Tony blinked when McGee got in his line of vision, disturbing his thought patterns. He tried to smile but it didn't last, the thoughtful frown returning. "You don't think there's something going on between Gibbs and Abby, do you? I mean, she's cute and he's got the silver-hair thing going for him but they wouldn't... Would they?"
McGee stared at him silently, his own features arranged into a frown, while Ziva shrugged her shoulders and finally looked up from what she was doing.
"Would it be so bad if they were?" She asked enquiringly. "They care about one another, yes? Surely if they were able to be happy together, we should be happy for them?"
It took a few moments more for McGee to nod his agreement, the look on his face showing that while he agreed in principle, the thought of it was something he wasn't entirely comfortable with. "It's none of our business," he settled for saying after a while. "I don't think they are but..." He shrugged. "Like Ziva says, if they're happy..."
"They're not. Together, I mean," Tony clarified when they looked at him in askance. "We'd know if they were." He shrugged a shoulder and stood, moving around his desk so he could sit in his chair. "It was just a thought. A stupid one. Gibbs would never... She's not a redhead."
"Neither was the Lieutenant Colonel," Ziva pointed out, referring to Gibbs' ex-girlfriend and the former Army CID officer, Hollis Mann. "She was blond."
Tony leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above him before folding them beneath his head. "That doesn't count," he retorted. "Blond's are a different matter completely. Every guy has a thing for blonds. It's in their DNA or something."
"I'll be sure to remember that, Agent DiNozzo." The wry voice startled him so much he almost fell off his chair, recovering non-too-gracefully when the slender form of Charlotte Pearson came into his line of sight, the natural sway of her hips catching his attention as she sauntered over to Ziva's desk and perched onto the edge of it. "Hey."
"Hey." Another smile brightened Ziva's face, though it was steeped in concern. "How are you?"
Charlie shrugged, aware of Tony's gaze on her back even as she kept herself from looking at him. "I'm okay. Just wondered if you'd found anything else. If you're any closer to catching this guy."
An apologetic expression arranged her features and Ziva shook her head. "We have no more leads. I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault." Charlie sighed and ran a hand through the hair that hung loosely around her shoulders. "Director Vance is issuing a memo to all field agents. He wants them to buddy up until this guy is caught." She wrinkled her nose and sighed again. "He wants me to buddy up with someone, too. He said working directly for him put me in a vulnerable position and with Luke, I can't really risk it."
"Do you want me to go to him and volunteer?" Ziva offered immediately, though her first thought had been to pair off with Abby or one of her teammates. Gibbs would take care of Abby if he believed she was in danger, Ziva told herself, and McGee and Tony could partner each other.
A grateful smile spread over Charlie's lips. "If you don't mind. I'd rather it was someone I know."
Neither she nor Ziva noticed Tony get up and head for the stairs leading up to MTAC and the director's office. McGee did, his eyebrows rising, but he didn't stop his friend or let the women know Tony was gone.
*****
Their buddy assignments didn't come as a surprise to McGee or Tony. Tony was assigned to protect Charlie – and her son – much to the woman in question's surprise and complete disapproval. Gibbs then insisted on McGee and Ziva staying over at Ducky's house while he would take Abby back to his place.
Ducky was unfazed by the arrival of two special agents in his home, showing them to their rooms with the grace and warmth of a host who'd been expecting them. He put them in rooms next to each other, apologising to them with a smile for their assignment.
"I'm sure you'd both rather spend the night with people your own age but I couldn't talk Jethro out of it, I'm afraid," he apologised once again as they joined him at the dining table that evening. "He seems to think I'm too much of an old man to protect myself."
Sitting down at the table, McGee was quick to refute Ducky's claim. "It's not that," he protested. "Gibbs doesn't want you to be alone. Age has nothing to do with it."
"Absolutely," Ziva agreed, taking her seat opposite McGee. "Gibbs has insisted on Abby being protected, yes? She is not old, Ducky. Nor are you."
Ducky gave them each a pleased smile before pouring them each a small glass of wine. "I hope you don't mind but I can't seem to eat an evening meal with company without opening a bottle of wine. A small glass won't harm anyone, will it?"
Ziva caught McGee's eye over the table and shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "I'm sure it will be fine, Ducky. Thank you."
"Yeah," McGee echoed, raising his glass to the woman sitting opposite him. "Thank you, and cheers."
"To good friends," Ducky toasted. "Good friends and good company, regardless of the circumstances."
"To good friends and good company," Ziva and McGee echoed.
*****
"Why are you here?" The five year old stood with his hands on his hips, staring up at Tony quizzically.
Stifling yet another sigh, Tony looked down at the child he'd been entrusted with while an irritated Charlie fixed dinner for them. "To take care of you and your Mommy," he said after a pause.
"Why?"
"Because I'm a special agent and it's my job," Tony answered.
"Why?"
"Because I like it."
"Why?"
"Because I get paid for it?"
"Why?"
"Because I'm good at it."
"Why?"
"Because I've had a lot of experience and know how to do my job."
"Why?"
The constant stream of questions made his head hurt. Tony muttered under his breath, rubbing his forehead wearily. He glanced up at a badly concealed chuckle and saw Charlie leaning against the doorway, her eyes dancing in affectionate amusement as she gazed at her son.
"Can't you do something...?" Tony half-asked, half-begged, motioning to the five-year-old with the wave of his hand.
The smirk widened. "Can't handle being interrogated by a five-year-old, Agent DiNozzo?"
Tony glanced between her and her son, unnerved at the identical expressions on their faces. "No," he answered honestly, shaking his head to drive the truth of his answer home. "Not by this one. I think he's been having secret lessons with Gibbs."
A full-blown laugh escaped her and Tony found himself pleased that he could say he was responsible, admiring the way her cheeks flushed even as she leant down to accept the little body racing towards her on slightly chubby legs. "Not that I'm aware of," Charlie responded with a smile, rubbing her nose against her sons as the little boy giggled. "Dinner's almost ready so you boys should go wash your hands."
She set her son down and Luke ran off, eager to do as his mother instructed. After a long look from Charlie, Tony reluctantly followed suit.
*****
Working on his boat was somehow twice as soothing when it was accompanied by the sound of Abby typing away at her laptop in the corner of his basement. Gibbs looked at her out of the corner of his eye, noting the shadows under her eyes and the yawns she unsuccessfully tried to stifle. He wanted to order her to bed – to sleep – but he knew she'd fight him every step of the way.
He knew why, too. Better than most people could. Nightmares combined with survivor's guilt was something he himself was intimately familiar with.
"You feeling hungry yet?" He asked after a long while of working on his boat while casting concerned glances in her direction. She'd only picked at the lunch he'd insisted she order, eating just enough to satisfy him and keep him from nagging her. "We could order pizza if you want."
Pizza was her favourite. He preferred Chinese food but he'd go with pizza if it got her to eat.
Abby looked up from her laptop, shrugging her shoulders as if to try and ease the tension in them. She looked at him in confusion for a few seconds before her sleep-addled brain caught up and was able to process his question. "I'm not..." She started to say she wasn't hungry but the expression on his face stopped her. "Pizza sounds good."
"Great." Gibbs set down the paintbrush and tub of varnish he'd been holding, relieved she wasn't going to make taking care of her harder than it needed to be. "You want the usual?"
She gave him a small smile and a nod. "Sure."
Without giving her time to change her mind, Gibbs moved to the stairs, taking them two at a time in his haste to reach the phone and place their order before Abby decided she couldn't face any food.
Less than ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. Abby stood up from her stool before Gibbs could put the varnish down again. "I'll go. You want to eat down here...?"
He would have said yes under any other circumstances but he didn't want to give her the opportunity to use whatever work she was doing on her laptop as an excuse to forget to eat. "Take it through to the living room. I'll get cleaned up and be there in a minute."
Abby gave him another nod and started up the stairs, her steps slow and measured as her tired body protested the movement.
"There's money on the table by the door," Gibbs called after her, already putting the lid on the varnish tin.
He didn't know why he listened so intently to her footsteps but he was glad when he caught the edge of surprise in her voice, her tired greeting to the delivery boy turning into something less than pleasant.
Gibbs was half-way up the stairs when he heard the muted thud of a body falling to the floor.
*****
"Thank you, Ducky." Ziva graced the ME with a warm smile as she sat back in her chair, hands folded over her stomach in appreciation. "You are a wonderful cook."
Ducky smiled back, pleasure written all over his face. "Thank you, my dear. I'm so glad you enjoyed it. I quite enjoy cooking though it's rare that I find the time."
"Anytime you want some to cook for, Ducky, I'll volunteer," McGee chimed in. He started gathering the plates together, even as Ducky tutted in disapproval. "You cooked, it's only fair we take care of the dishes."
"I agree," Ziva turned her attention and smile onto McGee. "You are outnumbered, Ducky. Sit and relax. We will clear up and perhaps make some tea?"
"That would be wonderful."
Dinner had been a comfortable affair, full of small talk and endless chatter. Ziva and McGee had listened patiently to Ducky's anecdotes, laughing with the ME as he recalled stories from his youth that brought a blush to his cheeks and a sparkle to his eye. In turn, Ziva amused her two companions with some tales of the lighter moments of her childhood while McGee regaled them with his own adventures as a child with the dramatic flair only an imaginative writer could have.
"It has been a fun evening, yes?" Ziva commented to McGee quietly as they carried the used dishes and cutlery through to the kitchen. "Ducky has enjoyed himself."
"So have I." McGee admitted with a grin. "Ducky has better stories than most of the books I've read."
"He has most certainly had some unique experiences," Ziva agreed with an affectionate chuckle. She gave McGee a sidelong glance, a light blush stealing across her features as she bit her lip, debating internally whether to say what was on her mind or not. "I have enjoyed your company, too," she said eventually, gaze fixed firmly on the bubbles forming in the washing up bowl.
"Me, too. Your company, I mean." McGee looked at her, looking away just as quickly when she glanced up from the bubbles. "We should do it again. Maybe. If you want."
"Come to Ducky's for dinner?" She teased him lightly, flicking bubbles at him as her eyes danced in relief and amusement. "I am sure he would not object..."
"Ziva..." He sighed and rolled his eyes, wiping the splatter of bubbles from his cheek as he turned to face her a little more fully. "You know what I meant."
"Do I?" Ziva flicked more bubbles at him, laughing when they hit him firmly in the face. It was only a matter of time before McGee retaliated, reaching past her to grab a handful of bubbles, taking advantage of her surprise at his daring to smear them on her face, laughing when some clung stubbornly to the tip of her nose.
Their play fighting would have continued if not for the phone call Ducky received. He strode into the kitchen, his face pale.
"Jethro would like us at his house as soon as possible," Ducky reported. "He believes our killer is there with Abigail."
"What do you mean, he believes he's there? Doesn't he know...?" All traces of amusement fled from McGee's face, dread settling like a stone in the pit of his stomach.
Ducky shook his head. "He was calling from Abby's cell phone from his basement. He said we were to contact Tony and get there as soon as we can."
Ziva wiped the bubbles from her face, her eyes cool and hard. "Then we must leave now. McGee, you will call Tony from the car. Ducky, please get whatever medical supplies you believe you may need and follow us. Quickly."
*****
"This was not the plan. You weren't supposed to be here. Why are you here? Damn it." The voice Gibbs heard was familiar but he couldn't place it without getting a glimpse of the intruder's face. He didn't want to risk that, though, knowing the instant he revealed himself, Abby would be used as a hostage. "Good job I brought extra, hmm? Good job I'm prepared."
Gibbs' stomach churned when there was no response from Abby. He hoped it meant she was drugged but was scared it meant there was something more serious wrong with her. His grip on the cell phone in his hand tightened so the plastic dug into his palm but he wasn't willing to relinquish it, using the pain as a reminder that he had to stay sharp, had to keep his wits about him.
Abby would suffer for it if he didn't.
"Just lie there," the voice continued – definitely that of a male, definitely that of someone he'd heard before. "I'll come back for you."
The promise sent shivers down his spine. Gibbs inched back down the stairs into his basement as he heard footsteps in his hallway, signalling that the intruder was leaving Abby – at least for now. He carefully avoided the creaky steps, heading straight for the drawer in which he kept his back-up weapon.
His fingers had just closed around it when he heard a soft tutting sound, followed by the unmistakable sound of the hammer of a gun being cocked. "Uh-uh. I wouldn't do that, Agent Gibbs. You'll ruin my plans and make me have to use Abby instead. You wouldn't want that, would you?"
The answer was an undeniable no so Gibbs let his fingers slip over the cool metal of his gun, turning slowly to face the intruder. He narrowed his eyes, squinting a little as he tried to make out the features of the person aiming the weapon at his chest.
"Agent Monroe?"
The intruder smirked and moved down another step, putting himself more firmly into the light. "Hello, Agent Gibbs. Surprised to see me?"
"Surprised is one word I could use." Gibbs felt his gut churn as he looked at the younger agent – a new addition to NCIS, a former marine who'd fought in Afghanistan before being honourably discharged on medical grounds. "You killed Agent Mason and Agent Bartlett?"
"As I'll kill you," Agent Ellis Monroe answered with a lopsided grin. The gleam in his eyes was nothing less than manic, insanity adding a horrible sort of animation to his gestures. "I'm going to be the best, you see. The best agent NCIS has ever had."
Gibbs didn't say anything. He held his tongue, trying to keep his anger in check to buy time for his team to get there.
Monroe practically skipped down the remaining steps into the basement, the gun held steady despite his animated eagerness. "It'll be easier if you cooperate, Agent Gibbs. I really don't want to hurt you."
"No, you just want to kill me." Gibbs fought to keep his voice mild, wondering if the deranged man in front of him would notice if he reached behind him for one of the tools resting on his workbench. "Why not just shoot them? Why go through to such trouble?"
An expression of contempt passed over Monroe's face and he rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't understand."
"Try me. Tell me about the pentagram. The symbols." Gibbs crossed his arms behind his back slowly so as not to cause too much of a disturbance. "What's their significance?"
Monroe glared at him as though he had no right to ask – or was stupid for needing to do so. "They'll help me be a better agent," he answered matter-of-factly. "The ritual has to be completed properly to help the transfer of knowledge be a success."
While it made no sense to Gibbs, Monroe said it like it was the most rational, logical thing in the world.
"Right. I see that now." He didn't, but Gibbs' gut told him it would be best to humour the man with the gun. He was listening intently, hoping to hear some sign that the team had arrived.
Monroe lurched forward suddenly, his eyes gleaming unnaturally in the low lighting. A triumphant smile spread across his face as he stabbed Gibbs in the arm with the syringe he'd kept concealed, having successfully distracted Gibbs with the gun while keeping the second, just as dangerous weapon hidden.
"You *will* see," Monroe promised, surprisingly gentle as he eased Gibbs to the ground as the drug started to take effect. "You don't yet but you will."
Smiling down at Gibbs, Monroe patted the immobilised agent's cheek softly. "I'll be right back, okay? I gave Abby a smaller dose but I still need to take care of her first, before it starts to wear off. It's a shame, though. I always liked her. She was always nice to me, unlike the others." Monroe shook his head, genuine regret on his face. "Still, it'll be useful having some of her abilities."
Gibbs couldn't let his fear show on his face even if he'd wanted to. His body was completely out of his control, a heavy burden he had no hope of moving. He couldn't even close his eyes, call out for help.
He was completely powerless and Abby was about to pay the price.
*****
Monroe was whistling to himself as he walked up the stairs to the main level, satisfied that his evening was going to plan. It would be his final night as a murderer and there was a part of him that thought he would miss it. There was something so intoxicating about wielding so much power over the vulnerable, something about the scent of freshly spilt blood that excited him.
He consoled himself that after tonight, he wouldn't need to seek his thrills in murder. He could use his skills to help catch those who killed, use the experience and knowledge he'd taken from his victims to rise up in the ranks of NCIS agents and make sure those less fortunate than himself received justice for the crimes committed against them.
Monroe didn't see anything wrong in what he had done – or what he planned to do. He just wanted to improve himself, be the best agent he could be, and if that meant taking the abilities of others to do so...
The ritual was one he'd devised himself, after hours of tedious research. He'd scoured the internet and every occult shop he could find. He'd watched every movie, read every book on the subject and considered himself to be an expert on the matter.
No one would laugh at him anymore. There'd be no practical jokes played on him, no whispers behind his back about him getting his assignment at NCIS out of pity due to his accident in the war.
His whistling came to an abrupt halt when he reached the hallway to find the door open and Abby nowhere in sight.
He'd closed the door. He was sure of it. And though her dose had been smaller than he'd used with the others, Abby shouldn't have been able to get away.
Couldn't have got away.
His palms grew damp and a bead of sweat ran down his back beneath his collar. He opened the front door even wider, staring out into the seemingly deserted street. There was no sign of her so he shut the door, taking the time to lock it before turning to explore the rest of the house.
He didn't get very far.
Three guns were pointed at him, three furious special agents glaring at him.
Monroe's hand tightened around his own weapon but Tony DiNozzo arched an eyebrow and Ziva David flexed her finger on the trigger.
"Put the gun down, Monroe. It's over."
"No." He shook his head, disbelief and panic on his face. "No, this isn't supposed to happen."
"It's happening whether it's supposed to or not." Tony took a step forward, his gun steady as he held it in Monroe's face. "You murdered two NCIS agents, Monroe. Did you really think you'd get away with it?"
The look on his face said he did. Monroe shook his head and moaned. "No. If I'd killed the three, I'd be fine. Three's the number. I've got to finish the third kill."
He lunged at Tony, knocking the lead agent to the side only to be tackled by McGee. As they fell to the floor in a mass of tangled limbs, Ziva took out her handcuffs and leaned down to secure their captive. Tony got up and helped McGee to his feet as Ziva kept her gun pointed at the restrained Monroe, who curled up into a ball and wept at her feet.
"Go check on Gibbs and Abby," she told them, never once taking her eyes off the sobbing man on the floor. "Inform Ducky it is over."
McGee headed for the living room where they'd secured Ducky and Abby while Tony made his way down to the basement to check on Gibbs.
Ziva stared at the man responsible for killing her friend and for almost killing two more. "You are lucky we are not in my country," she murmured, nudging him with the toe of her boot. "I would rather see you dead than see you locked up."
Monroe only whimpered, looking less like a murderer and more like a scared child. Ziva felt no sympathy or if she did, she managed to quash it before it could blossom.
He was caught, the nightmare was over and Riley Mason could finally rest in peace.
*****
The funeral was well attended by NCIS agents. Even the Director and his wife arrived to give their condolences to Riley's parents and younger brother and it was common knowledge that they'd already made plans to attend Bartlett's memorial service, too.
Abby, Ziva and Charlie stood together beside the freshly dug grave, each clutching a rose as they prepared to say goodbye to their friend. Sharon had sent her apologies but couldn't bring herself to attend, leaving it up to them to bid Riley a fond farewell.
"I'm sorry," Abby murmured, holding the red rose in her hands carefully so not to cut her fingers on the sharp thorns. She brushed her lips against the delicate petals before letting the flower fall from her fingers to lie on the polished wooden surface of Riley's coffin. "You were a wonderful woman, a great agent. I think we could've been close friends and I'll always regret that you were taken from us too soon. Rest in peace, Riley."
She squared her shoulders and stepped back, burying her head in Gibbs' shoulder when he wrapped an arm about her waist.
Charlie stepped forward, her fingers wrapped tightly around the stem of the flower she held. "You were so full of life, so positive about everything. We didn't know each other well but I'm glad we got to meet, to talk. You'll be missed, Riley. By everyone who knew you, and by those who'll never get that chance."
Charlie, too, stepped back. Tony put a supportive hand on her arm and she looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with tears but a small smile of thanks curving up her lips.
It was Ziva's turn last and the Mossad officer fingered the delicate petals of the rose in her hands as she gazed down thoughtfully at the name plaque on the front of the coffin. "You were a good agent, a strong woman. I wish we had had more time to talk and get to know each other but I will always remember your laughter and your smile. Shalom, my friend."
Ziva turned away from the coffin after dropping the flower down onto it. She met Abby and Charlie's gaze and gave them a small nod to confirm it really was over. She stood and watched as Gibbs led Abby away, Tony following suit with the blond woman holding onto his arm to steady herself as they walked across the grass. McGee lingered behind, waiting for her, and she gave him a grateful smile when he held out his arm for her to take.
Life would go on, Ziva knew. It always somehow did.
*****
End.