Hi everyone! I understand that there have been some issues with my formatting, which is understandable. I am using an e-reader, so what looks okay to me looks a bit squirrelly to those using a different monitor. I'm going to try to format this chapter better, and also, make it a bit longer than my other ones. Fingers crossed! Thanks for the reviews.
The team missed Abby and McGee.
They did a good job hiding it at first, but the strain of the past days had gotten to them, and it was starting to show on everyone. Director Vance left the team alone, without his usual input and suggestions. Palmer had stopped being so awkward and was just... well, quiet. There were no more stories from Ducky. He had taken a sudden dislike to his work, because he could not keep himself from thinking, "What if the next one is Abigail? What if it is Timothy?". The probies avoided the team in general, dashing into the bullpen as quickly as possible to deliver mail, then speed-walking back out to avoid the wrath of the ninja, or worse, Gibbs. NCIS was deathly quiet. Not once in two days had the emergency stop been activated in the elevator. Even amongst the team, they kept to themselves. No time for headslaps, or movie references, or mangled American idioms. Tony didn't want to snoop, Ziva didn't want to poke fun at him, and Gibbs didn't want coffee anymore.
...
Tony noticed. He noticed that Ziva hadn't tried any idioms. He noticed that there were no stories from Ducky, no interruptions from Vance, and even the Autopsy Gremlin had stayed away. But what scared him almost as much as Ziva breaking down in the lab was Gibbs. The former Marine looked tired. He moved slower than usual, and hadn't touched coffee in almost 24 hours. The bullpen had seemed empty without McGee, but even emptier without Gibbs' sarcasm. Ziva, on the other hand, seemed as if she had just given up. She had stayed in the bullpen since her house had been broken into earlier, and had almost stopped speaking completely. Tony left jokes wide open for her, but she didn't take them. She was a zombie at her computer, typing and occasionally cursing in Hebrew when she reached a dead end. The team was falling apart, and as Tony watched, there was nothing he could do. One man, even as powerful as Anthony DiNozzo, couldn't pick up all the pieces his team had shattered into, as much as he tried. Until they got Abbs and Probie back, there were two obvious holes in not only the bullpen, but in NCIS, and in Tony's heart. He had been so busy holding the team together while trying to find his friends, he hadn't even had time to think about a drink. Usually, it was the first thing he did when something went wrong. He had fallen right into the alcohol's grasp when Ziva was assumed dead, but this was different. Someone was going to pay for this, and Tony was determined to find them.
...
Tony was only partly correct. Ziva had given up, but not on finding Abby and McGee. On herself. She didn't know how she could go on at NCIS after this, knowing that the kidnapping was just the latest of all the troubles she had caused them. To Ziva, all she saw was herself, putting the team through Hell yet again. How would Abby or McGee be able to tolerate her? If they didn't already know it was her fault, how could she tell them? The team was ruined- because of her. And if McGee or Abby didn't make it back to NCIS? Ziva had decided that if that was the case, she wouldn't come back either. Vance would probably throw her out, and if he didn't, she couldn't face Tony. Or Gibbs. Or even Ducky and Palmer. As much as she hated it, she would return to Israel. To Mossad. To Eli. She knew that she deserved every bit of what it would get her. And if she were lucky, Eli would send her on another death mission. This time, though, she wouldn't fight back, and the world would be rid of her. But no- she had to focus on finding her friends. It was all her fault anyways. Wasn't it?
...
Gibbs was a mess. The night Ziva had stayed with Tony, he had gotten home around 4 am. He went straight down to the basement while trying not to let his tears escape. He grabbed a beer and walked around the boat he had worked on for so long. As he admired the curve and softness of the wood, he found himself thinking, "I can have this finished in a month. Maybe two." He sat in front of it on his favorite stool. A month... a lot can happen in a month. We could have Abby and McGee back where they belong, and Ziva safe from these men for good. Or... we could be attending the funerals of the two missing persons. He imagined Abby in a coffin, but not just sleeping. Dead. It hit him suddenly that his little girl Abby could be dead. Another would have to take her place in the lab. No more Abby...No. More. Abby. He snapped. He grabbed a hammer and attacked the one thing that kept him sane when his team couldn't. With each stroke of the hammer, he only thought, "Shannon. Kelly. Jenny. McGee...Abby." Those names kept him tearing at the boat until the hammer came apart and went flying across the room. He then tore at it with his hands, breaking off chunks of wood. After almost an hour, he stopped and looked around the basement. His frustration and anger lay amongst bits and splinters of the Kelly. He didn't feel any better though. It was then then that Leroy Jethro Gibbs dropped to his knees amidst the pieces of his prized possession, put his head in his bloodied hands, and let the tears come.
Follow-up note: Yes! Broke 1000 words. I'm stalling the story a bit, sorry.. still trying to finish the main plot in my head before I add too much more. Please review!
