Goodbye, Abby: Broken Principles

Author: AnonymousNCISFan
Rating: T (PG-13)

Summary: The first in a series of one-shots about how Abby might possibly leave. I don't necessarily want to see any of these scenarios play out on-screen but think each one would have significant emotional impact.

Main Pairing: Gibbs/Abby friendship

Spoilers: Up to & including Season 15

Warnings: Angst, Possible character deaths

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and am making no money off this – I appreciate the creative minds at NCIS and the brilliant actors who bring these beloved characters to life.

Goodbye, Abby: Broken Principles

Chapter 2: Breaking Protocol

NCIS Headquarters

The fire alarm continued to blare through the building as Gibbs rushed up the stairs from autopsy. Reaching for his gun, Gibbs realized it was still locked in his desk. He pulled the knife from his belt as he finally reached the top of the staircase, and cracked open the door to the hallway. Spotting two agents who were moving to exit the building, Gibbs entered the hallway and grabbed one, gesturing to the other.

"Hey," he whispered. "We have an intruder in the lab. Either of you armed?"

They both shook their heads, indicating their lack of weapons.

"OK, you," Gibbs said, pointing to the younger agent, "get upstairs, get to the director. Get a team down here. We may have a hostage situation."

"On it," the agent replied. The second agent looked to Gibbs.

"What's your name?" Gibbs asked.

"Agent Finnley, sir."

"OK, Finnley, I need you to clear the hallway and keep everyone out."

Before Finnley could respond, two shots rang out suddenly. Both men dove for cover.

"Sounds like it came from inside the lab, sir," Finnley noted.

"I'm heading in," Gibbs said, brandishing his knife.

"But sir, that's not protocol. You're not armed and we need to wait-"

Before Finnley could finish, Gibbs was at the door. "Go," he whispered harshly.

Finnley gave a concerned look but headed down the hallway. Gibbs leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath before trying the lab door. It was locked. He put his ear up to it, listening for voices or any sign of the intruder. All he heard was silence.

Closing his eyes, his gut churning, Gibbs swallowed his fear and channeled it, using the adrenaline for strength and focus, like he always did. Yet one thing was different. This was Abby. While he typically wasn't a praying man, Gibbs offered up a silent plea to whatever or whoever might be listening – whoever Abby believed in - before moving into action.

"This is Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS," he shouted, announcing his presence. "I'm comin' in!" Gibbs knew it was risky, but Abby was in there; he needed to get inside. Using his knife, Gibbs pried the door open by the latch and dashed in, ducking behind the inside of the door, using it as a shield in case the gunman decided to fire. He glanced to the left, seeing shattered test tubes and evidence scattered on the floor. More concerning, he noticed a blood trail leading to the inner office.

"Abby!" he called, breathing hard, a part of him not wanting to look. But he had to – and it wasn't just because it was his job. Gibbs had promised to keep Abby safe, to protect her. It was why he had been distancing himself from her these past several months – to protect her from himself - from his demons, from his enemies, from the pain of losing him, which was inevitable to him. It never crossed his mind that she might-

"Ahhh!" a low voice yelled as the assailant slammed the door into Gibbs, knocking the knife out of his hand. The man looked to be in his late twenties, muscular build and for some reason incredibly unhinged. He punched Gibbs in the jaw, then the ribs. Ignoring the searing pain, Gibbs returned with a strong left hook, then gripped the assailant's right arm as he kicked his legs out from under him, dislocating the man's shoulder.

As his attacker writhed on the ground in pain, Gibbs stumbled toward the knife, which had slid through the pool of blood towards Abby's desk.

"Abby!" he called again, wincing in pain as he gripped his ribs. Just as he was about to reach for the knife, he felt a tug on his left leg, pulling at his reconstructed knee. Gibbs shouted in pain and fell to the floor. Standing up and holding his bad shoulder, the attacker kicked Gibbs in the stomach once, twice, slowing him down before picking up the knife himself. Gibbs was gasping, still desperately looking for Abby while fighting for his life.

As the assailant straddled him, raising the knife in his left hand to stab him, Gibbs gripped his left arm and pushed back. He wondered where the gun went, and why the attacker wasn't using it. As he struggled against the younger man, Gibbs noticed a ring on his left index finger and recognized the pattern – the same one that Palmer found on the victim's cheek. Looking at him for the first time, Gibbs also recognized the mystery man's face.

"You're Lieutenant Blake's son," Gibbs choked out, knowing he was losing the physical battle. He just needed to buy time. And he needed to find Abby.

"I was," he replied in a low voice.

"Dennis, it's Dennis, right? Dennis, tell me, where is she?" Gibbs asked breathlessly, gritting his teeth.

"Who? Your lab rat? She's with my father now," he half-laughed.

Gibbs' eyes darkened at his words, anger boiling to the surface. "You…killed her?" he asked in a deep, threatening tone.

"Don't worry, you'll be joining her soon," the young man said menacingly, pushing harder against his grip.

In that moment, Gibbs was torn between the desire to join Abby - and every other loved one who'd died long before their time - and wanting to end her murderer. His heart lurched, images of Abby flashing before his eyes. Her smile. Her warm embrace. Her crying on his shoulder. Her laughter. The look of devastation in her eyes when he told her to stay out of his life.

"Argh!" Gibbs yelled, feeling the rush of adrenaline that gave him a strength he didn't know he still had in him. He pushed the young man off him, gripping Abby's desk and standing up. The attacker stood up and swiped at Gibbs once, twice, three times with the knife. Gibbs grabbed him by the shirt and spun him around, slamming him into the wall right next to Abby's bulletin board. But the young man held onto the knife and pushed back, knocking Gibbs to the ground yet again.

Weakened and tired from the fight, Gibbs knew this was it. He had failed. As he watched the killer lunge toward him – his own knife poised to end him – Gibbs whispered what he thought might be his last words.

"Sorry, Abbs."

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out. The young assailant jerked backward, falling lifelessly to the ground, his blood splattered against the wall. Gibbs winced and looked to his right to see McGee in the doorway, gun drawn.

"Good work, Tim," Gibbs rasped, swallowing as he tried to push back the pain that rushed upon him.

"Wasn't me, boss," McGee said, eyes wide as he ran into the lab, holstering his gun.

Gibbs looked to his left to see Abby sitting on the floor in front of ballistics, bloody and beaten, but alive, holding a gun in her hand. In that instant, Gibbs realized she'd been the one to fire the fatal shot. Guilt and fear tore at him, hating that she'd done that, and worse, she'd done it for him.

TO BE CONTINUED…