Abducted

A/N: New year, new fic. More Gibbs/Jenny/Abby OT3. When I started to form this fic in my head, I debated how exactly to write it, so this is what I came up with. Basically, this is a re-write of the season 5 finale because I just deny that it exists.

The rhythmic sounds of Android Lust faded as the club's door shut behind the Gothic scientist. The air was bitter cold, and she shivered as she slipped her purse over her shoulder. It was rare that she took the back exit out of the club, but she'd had a hinky feeling throughout the night. Initially, she'd assumed that it was her imagination. When the feeling didn't go away after a few hours, she bid her friends a good night and headed out. It was just after 0200, and she was so ready for bed.

The cold air helped clear her mind, but she felt way more drunk than she should've. She'd had maybe two dirty margaritas and felt like she'd had four or more. Maybe she had been imagining the feeling in the club. After her stalker incident a few years back, she knew she couldn't be too careful; she never accepted an offer for a drink, never left it unattended. She even took to carrying a can of mace in her purse just in case. She'd slipped it into her coat pocket, her phone resting safely in the other. She knew if any of her coworkers knew she parked so far away from the club, she'd get a lecture, but she loved being able to walk through the snow. Of course, she could always do that if she parked closer, but what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

A noise behind her made her stop her inner monologue. Her hand tightened around the can of mace. She turned slowly, expecting to find some person behind her. To her surprise, there was no phantom person. Instead, a stray cat blinked up at her.

"Oh, poor baby," she cooed softly, bending down and holding out her hand, "come here. I'll take you somewhere warm."

The cat purred, stepping closer to sniff at her hand. She didn't feel the presence behind her until it was too late to react. A hand came around, pressing tight against her mouth. She let out a cry in surprise, automatically trying to pull the mace out of her pocket.

The assailant's other hand grabbed her wrist; his voice was thick, a Russian accent, "Hush now, sweetie. You won't get away."

She struggled against the hold, feeling a haze start to fall over her. Vaguely, she heard tires. A car was pulling up beside them.

"Viggo, the car."

"Da," the man replied.

"Rafik left the note. He's in the car." This was said in Russian. God, she was glad she'd taken those lessons in college.

She felt her knees start to go weak. The rough pawing at her coat made her wish she'd asked a bouncer to walk her to her car. Rod was there. He would've. The man, Viggo, grabbed her cell phone, and she was sure she could feel his smirk, "I'm going to borrow this, sweetie."

Her world swirled around her, and then darkness swam over her vision.

God, she was so late. She'd wanted to be at the office half an hour ago. As it was, it was a little after 0800.

"Director Shepard," Cynthia greeted her as she made her way into the office, holding out various forms and mail.

"Cynthia, good morning," she replied, taking the documents from her secretary, "I know I'm late. My meeting with SecNav starts in a few minutes, so I'll need you to hold my calls."

"Yes, Ma'am," she opened the door to her office, stepping inside, "also…"

"You're late, Jen." Jethro's voice came from the couch. His voice was observant, a small smirk on his lips.

She rolled her eyes, setting the documents on her desk, "Good morning, Special Agent Gibbs. If you must know, I spilled coffee this morning and had to change. I have a meeting in about 10 minutes. Let's make this quick." She sent a nod towards Cynthia, and the door closed behind the woman, "How did last night go?"

"Worked on the boat."

Confused, she turned to look at him, "Abby didn't stay over?"

"Nope. Thought she'd come in with you today."

She rolled her eyes at the wording, gathering up her files, "No."

"She texted last night, said your place was closer. She'd had a few beers, was gonna take a cab."

She paused briefly, "I got the same text."

He stood up, pulling out his phone, "She went to the club on 12th and 18th."

She walked around the desk, placing a hand on his arm, "Jethro, you're overreacting."

He looked at her, worry shining in his eyes, "Something doesn't feel right, Jen."

"We agreed you wouldn't do this," She reminded him. That was true. After Mawher, he hadn't wanted her to leave his sight, wanting her to check in every hour if she went out. Abby had started to feel claustrophobic, and she'd been able to get him to relent. "She's not a child, Jethro. She's our girlfriend, our partner. And she's just a little late." He frowned at her, and she sighed. "She probably went home after clubbing and overslept." He pressed his coffee cup into her hand, the question clear in his eyes, "I know, it doesn't make sense, Jethro. But it's Abby. If she hasn't come in within the hour, send out the search party." She joked, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, "Gotta go to my meeting. Thank you for the coffee."

He held back a sigh, moving to open the door for her.

The hour came and went and still, there was no sign of Abby. It wasn't like her to be late. Hell, when there was a case, she hardly left the building. In the rare instances that she would be late, she'd always call or text, even e-mail. It was just hinky. He grabbed his desk phone, calling Abby's cell. He waited as it rang. Once. Twice. And then it connected.

"Abby, where are you?"

There was a pause and then, "Gibbs, is that you?" That wasn't Abby.

"Who's this?"

"It's Detective Garrison, Mike Garrison, Metro homicide. We worked a case together last year."

Homicide. It was the only word revolving in his head. No, no, Abby couldn't be…

"Special Agent Gibbs, you there?"

"Yeah." He forced his lungs to draw in air, his voice not to crack. "Yeah, I'm here." The thought of losing Abby…

"Like I said, this man had your girl's phone. Not sure how. If you and your team wanted to come down, I think we can work jointly on this."

"Why?"

"I owe you one," Detective Garrison answered. "Club on 12th and 18th, it's called..."

"Shadow Tomb," he interrupted, "Be there soon." The call was disconnected then, and he took a moment to get his bearings before grabbing his gun and shield, "Grab your gear. Got a body."

The four agents jumped up, following him to the elevator. If his hand shook as he hit the button for the ground level, they didn't comment.

Her head was aching as she slowly came to. She blinked as she snuggled into the warm blankets, trying to push away the fog. The last thing she could remember was that poor cat out in the cold. Slowly, pieces started coming back to her. She was roofied. Three men. Something about a car.

She looked around, catching sight of a large window; she could make out the snow falling outside. She was in a log cabin; it looked well-kept from what she could tell. The bed she was on was furnished, comfortable, the wooden door a few feet away closed. She still wore her clubbing outfit, minus her shoes. She sat up slowly, feeling dizzy. She had no idea where she was. From the sunlight outside, it looked to be morning, but she couldn't figure out the exact time. She could really be anywhere within four to six hours of D.C. But these woods, they looked familiar. Maybe…

Her headache pulled her from her thoughts, the pounding intense. All she wanted to do was sleep. But she had no idea who kidnapped her or even why. She heard footsteps, and then the door was being opened. She expected to see a man, maybe six foot one, but instead a woman stepped into the room, five six, blonde, dark-blue eyes. There was something dark in her eyes as she made her way into the room. Unless she was imagining it. It was gone a moment later.

"Ah, good, you're awake," The woman's accent was Russian. The first man had also spoken with a Russian accent. She opened her mouth to reply, but the woman shushed her, "I wouldn't try to talk right now. Flunitrazepam makes you drowsy, correct?" She stared at her blankly, trying to get her thoughts straight. "I suppose it would be rude to not introduce myself. And I'm sure you're wondering why you're here," the woman stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. "Well, you really are a beauty, aren't you? I can see why they love you." She felt a shudder run along her spine. What was this about? "My name is Svetlana Chernitskaya. And you, Dr. Sciuto, are my hostage."

In the morning light, Shadow Tomb didn't seem so mysterious. The last time, with Abby all but dragging him inside, he'd been skeptical. Despite the loud music, it had been an okay place, even if it wasn't his scene. The bouncers all checked out, the bartender was a dark-haired woman who flirted with everyone, and Abby was just happy he'd joined her. Bourbon and a boat, it wasn't, but watching his girl having fun was enough for him.

He turned back to the crime scene, an impassive look on his face. The man was shot point blank in the back of the head, execution style. He turned Abby's phone over in his hand, frowning. A dead guy with Abby's phone? Didn't make sense at all. A soft meow caught his attention, and he turned, seeing a charcoal-grey cat looking up at him. He knelt, and it purred softly, rubbing against his legs.

"Boss," DiNozzo came up to him, the camera secure in his hand, and he stood, turning to look at him, "why is Metro letting us do a joint investigation?"

He handed him the evidence bag with Abby's phone, "That's why."

"Abby's phone?"

"Metro found it in his pocket."

"McGee is getting the witness statement."

He looked over to where McGee stood, talking with one of the bouncers.

"Gibbs!" Kate's voice called out, "Found something."

He met Kate and Ziva in front of a familiar looking hearse. Why did she always park so far away? She could've parked closer to the club; it wouldn't have hurt a damn thing.

A note was under the windshield wiper, a small corner of it damp from the melted snow. Luckily for them, it barely snowed last night. He opened it carefully.

You deserve nothing

A/N: With my work schedule, I don't know if this will get regular updates, but I'll try.