A/N - I apologize. I suck at updates and I appreciate all of the support I've received from such wonderful readers. I'm hoping to wrap this story up in the next few chapters. If you have any suggestions please leave them in a review! Thank you!
C.9
"Damn, it's bright," he muttered again. McGee used his hand to shield his eyes from the rays of the sun as he continued to study the ground in front of him. Ziva snorted her exasperation at hearing him complain about it again.
"You're wearing sunglasses as it is. How can it still be too bright?" She challenged as she snapped a few more pictures.
"I don't know. It's November in D.C., it should be gray or something. This bright sun is too much."
"I'm going to go with you just being exhausted. Now shut up and work." He grunted a response and continued to check the grid work that they'd laid. Twenty minutes later they began to pack away their equipment and prepare for entrance into the club.
"You think there's going to be something in here to work with?"
"As an agent you must always find something to work with," Ziva replied curtly as she rewound the grid string. McGee worked his bottom lip for a moment and glanced at the bar ahead of them.
"Don't you find it strange that the guy in the bar hasn't come out yet?" McGee asked as he hauled the equipment bag into the car. Ziva nodded her head and put the camera away.
"I guess we'll get to ask him now anyway." She said. The two drove the car to the entrance of the bar; experience had taught them to always have a fast get away available at all times. Ziva took point as they knocked on the partially open, wooden doors. McGee cringed slightly at the red paint on the door, it reminded him of blood. Abby's blood. He decided not to go down that path and averted his eyes to the pavement beneath him. After receiving no answer but hearing definite music and movement, Ziva decided to let them in. With hands on holstered weapons, the pair entered the darkened bar.
"Hey!" someone shouted. Ziva drew her gun and pointed in the direction of the voice. McGee, whether out of fatigue or choice, decided to keep his weapon in place.
"Whoa lady! Put that thing away, I didn't do anything!" the voice- now embodied by a late twenties, striking dark-skinned man- yelled in surprise. Ziva saw that both his hands were up in the universal 'peace/shield' position and slightly lowered her weapon.
"I'm sorry, sir. We knocked..."
"Who are you with?" he asked, voice calmer but still loud.
"NCIS," McGee answered, " we would just like to ask you a few questions about an incident that occurred at this establishment last night. It involved..."
"Two women? One a Goth and the other a little younger? Brunette, I think?" the man interrupted.
"Yes," both agents answered. The man visibly relaxed and began to move towards the nearest bar counter.
"Let's have a seat. I'm going to stick my hand in my pocket and pull out the remote to the stereo, ok?" he said before he completely turned around. Ziva nodded her consent and moved to follow the man. The two agents stood in front of the bar and waited for the man behind the counter to get situated. After they declined his offer for a drink, they waited for him to open a small can of fruit juice and sit on a high stool.
"You're sure you don't want a seat?" he asked.
"Are we going to need one? We would just like to ask you a few questions." Ziva answered. The man shrugged.
"What would you like to know?"
"Let's start with your name and position, please." McGee asked.
"Oh, sorry. My name is Charles Green and I own this place." Ziva quirked a slight brow.
"You're a little young to own such a large club. Do you have a partner?" He smiled wide, showing perfect, white teeth.
"Actually no. I bought this place all by myself. It's definitely grown over the years, but it's all mine. Also, thank you for the compliment. Now, what happened to those two women? Are they all right?" Both agents weren't sure whether to answer or not. If they gave away too many details, he could spin the information he was going to give. Ziva recovered first.
"How were they when you last saw them?" The smile left his face and it turned very serious.
"I have to admit that I didn't see them after the attack. I saw them earlier in the evening; gave them some complimentary Cokes."
"Oh?" McGee asked.
"The younger one explained that she didn't want anything to get in the way of her fun dance night and the Goth said she was driving. I commended them both for partying without alcohol and gave them a couple Cokes. Alcoholism is rampant in my family and after my sister died from it, I don't even touch the stuff."
McGee paled at the idea of the sister's death. It could have very well been his own sister. Ziva saw this and continued for him.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Thank you for your concern." Ziva nodded as she continued.
"Well, what can you tell us about the 'attack', as you called it, last night?"
"Unfortunately, I didn't see any of it. I only have what my employees told me. What I do know is that one of my bouncers, Mark Spencer, went after those two women in the parking lot sometime after 10 o'clock. He had a weapon and both women made contact with him in the parking lot. Two bouncers went to help, another one came to inform me of the problem. I instructed him to call the police and ran down to see what I could do. By the time I got there, Mark was being restrained by Tay and the two women were nowhere to be seen."
"How long did it take you to get to the parking lot?" McGee asked quickly. Charles thought about it for a moment.
"Maybe five minutes from when I was informed. Eddie had to find me in this club. As you can see, it has two levels. Add flashing lights, loud music, and partiers on a Thursday night and you can see it may have taken some time for me to get through to the exit. I'm not sure how long it took for Eddie to find me either..."
"He must have been somewhat quick if the authorities hadn't arrived yet." Ziva cut in.
"Well I made sure he called after he found me. It can take the cops some time to get out to the clubs during the weekends."
"So you didn't see the women being attacked or the man attacking them?"
"Sorry no. I was working inside here at the time." Ziva was a little surprised to see that Charles really did look upset at this.
"What happened when you got to the parking lot?" McGee asked.
"Tay told me what he saw. Hector confirmed. I reprimanded them for not making the women wait for the police and an ambulance."
"Why did you think an ambulance was needed?"
"There was blood on Mark. I just assumed not all of it was his."
"What happened after that?" Charles ducked his head ever so lightly.
"I must admit that I hit Mark in the face, twice. I was too angry. Hector had to pull me back. The police got there not too long after that and we told them what happened. They said they couldn't arrest him for the attack because the women weren't present to press charges, but they could take him in for public intoxication. He attempted to try and press charges on me for attacking him, but neither of the guys would corroborate his story. After he left we went back to regular business. I called the area hospitals to see if anyone matching those descriptions went to the ER, but no one had seen them, or at least not the people I described." McGee and Ziva nearly nodded in unison and gave surprised looks at the last statement.
"You seem to care for them a lot. Didn't you just meet them?" Ziva looked calculating.
"I had met them just that night yes, but they were nice. They also made an odd pair. The Goth was so tall and intense in her makeup and clothes. The younger girl looked really shy and small next to her. She also had a lot of hair. I didn't see them try to do anything crazy, they just wanted to have a nice time and I really try to attract people like that. I also want people to feel safe when they come here. Something like this is the kind of bad PR I'd like to stay away from. Which is why, " he rose from the stool, threw the now empty can away, and moved out from behind the bar, " I will give you the tapes from the parking lot cameras." Both Ziva and McGee almost started gaping at him. They had looked that building over many times and had not found cameras. They followed Charlie as he lead them up the stairs and to a room marked V.I.P Lounge. Inside the room was another door, carefully painted to match the wall.
"This is my office." The room was small, but comfortable and bright. It even had a small window. The desk had three flat screen monitors arranged around a small area of desk for paperwork. Charles dug through a drawer to find a jump drive and began to download footage from the computer. McGee went around the desk and looked at the set up in appraisal.
"This looks expensive." Charles smiled again.
"It was. Very expensive, but it's been worth it. These cameras have come through for me several times." He saw the question in their eyes and answered before they could ask.
"They are in the walls and masked to not have a glare . I have false shapes over them. The shapes look like window cut outs and decoration to the building. In reality, they are just hollowed out places that house the regular cameras. I angled them a bit and bubbled the glass, so they still have a full range of motion."
"I'm impressed." McGee finally answered.
"I studied architecture at Penn State before I switched to business. I still have some contacts." He handed the jump drive to McGee.
"I was going to take that down to the station after I finished up in here. I'd been hoping someone would call and tell me about those two, but no one else has contacted me." Ziva looked at her watch.
"Well thank you for your time Mr. Green. You've been very cooperative. If you have any questions or you remember anything else, please call at anytime." She handed him her card.
"Also, could you give us the names of all your employees?" she added. He nodded and printed a document. After it printed, he began to star some names.
"These are the people that worked last night. Tayvion Michaels, Hector Lopez , and Eddie Hart were the bouncers that witnessed the incident."
"Thank you. We'll see ourselves out." McGee answered.
"You're welcome." Charles watched them walk out of the office before he called after them. He met them in the doorway.
"If you find those women, please tell them I'm sorry. Also, I hope they get better and to let me know if they need anything. My information is on that employee sheet and here's my card. Let me know if you have more questions. You can come by later to see Eddie. Tay and Hector are off tonight." The agents nodded and continued to leave. Once outside and in the car they let out a shared sigh.
"That was strange. He was almost too nice." McGee muttered as he started the car.
"Agreed, but I want to believe him," he picked up his vibrating cell from his coat pocket and checked the message, "Tony wants us to meet at headquarters." The trip to NCIS was silent as they thought about what Gibbs may have found and the information they now had.
Sarah jumped from the couch and hurriedly collected their paper plates for trash. Ducky stared at the still swinging kitchen door's lack of artwork. He made a mental note to ask Abby about that as he gingerly removed himself from the straight backed chair he'd occupied. Glancing at his timepiece, he decided to check on his dearest patient. The darkness of her room nearly surprised him.
"Those curtains are certainly effective, " he muttered as he cautiously moved toward her bedside. With the bed table light flooding the room, he was stricken by her waning reflection. A quick check of her temperature and pulse confirmed what he'd feared.
"Sarah," he called "I need you to help me with Abigail."
"Hey buddy, I know I'm pretty but there's no reason to just sit and stare. It's rude" Mark began. The sardonic smirk on his face made DiNozzo's hands clench and twist. Gibbs continued to stare.
"Are you deaf? Quit lookin' like that," the teasing tone in the first statement was replaced by an annoyed one. Gibbs' stare turned into a glare with the subtlest of muscle movement. The other man sighed loudly.
"If this is what you came to do, I have an appointment to get to." Gibbs adjusted his files on the table.
"Where were you last night between the hours of 7p.m. and 2 a.m.?" He intoned. The smirk twitched at the corners but remained.
"I was working."
"And where do you work?"
"At a night club." Mark's smirk remained.
"Care to be more specific?" The criminal paused for a moment, unsure whether to answer truthfully or not.
"No," he grunted out. Gibbs was not impressed.
"Look, is there a reason I'm being held in here? I've never been called into questioning for public intoxication before. You people don't have any legal..."
"Mr. Spencer we have reason to believe that you were involved in a little dispute between two women last night in the parking lot of your 'club.' Any reason why we should or shouldn't believe that?" The annoying smirk left his face completely.
"Where did you hear that?" Gibbs smiled inwardly. It was almost sad when they were this easy and stereotypical. He leaned forward over the table and for some reason the other man's natural sense of self preservation didn't kick-in because he leaned forward too.
"Why did you hurt those girls?" the formality of his tone faded. Mark squinted his eyes.
"What are you talking about? I didn't touch any girls last night." He had the nerve to look self satisfied. On the other side of the mirror, DiNozzo spent a great deal of effort counting backwards and forwards to ten.
"What was it about the brunette that made you want her so much? It must have been her hair. Girls with long hair like that just want to be touched, right?" Gibbs was answered with silence.
"It must have been her face. She's real pretty. Nice lips. Big brown eyes..."
"What are you, fuckin' queer? Did you see her ass?" Gibbs suppressed his initial response of a sharp right cuff to the back of the head.
"Ah. What did she do that made you want to hurt her?" Mark laughed.
"I didn't do a damn thing to that bitch! What did she say? Is she here? She's a fuckin' liar!" Mark's temper began to flare. Gibbs knew that another second in that room was going to find him in contempt of something and unable to get prosecution on this...man. He looked at his phone and strolled out. Once Gibbs was behind the mirror he let out a slow breath, his hands flexing in and out of fists.
"Pin him DiNozzo."
"Sarah, help me move her," Ducky grunted as he went to gather the tall woman at her shoulders. Sarah rushed into the room and quickly grabbed onto Abby's excessively warm body.
"To the bathtub," Ducky panted. As much as he hated to admit to weakness, he was not as sturdy as he once was and Abby's height was considerable for a woman. His worry increased the adrenaline gliding through his veins though, and with a good heave, he had her up and into the bath tub in moments. They laid her out gently. Sarah nervously began to remove Abby's sweats while Dr. Mallard ran the cold water.
"I take it her fever didn't break." Ducky shook his head as she moved to remove Abby's undergarments.
"Those don't have to come off and no, as a matter of fact, it spiked. I'd hoped for just a slight fever to aid her body but this is too high. We need to break it before we do anything else." With the tub sufficiently full, Ducky began to palm water over her head.
"Keep doing that until I return. If her lips change color, yell." With that, Dr. Mallard went to find some acetametaphin, as his bottle was mockingly sitting on the counter in Autopsy. Poking through Abby's cabinets was definitely an exercise in control. As he went through her unreasonably bare kitchen cabinets, the ball of worry that had settled in his stomach since early this morning began to roll. He wondered why all of her cabinets had dishes and pans, even common lab equipment, but no food. With resignation he opened her refrigerator and stared at the emptiness in front of him. He rummaged through the rest of the kitchen only to find a few various food items. Ducky's rational side explained to him that the lack of food in the house was common for a young woman who worked frequently. That she probably bought groceries only as needed or bi weekly and because of this hadn't been to the store. The 'mother hen' side clucked worry after worry. It explained that he had not been imagining how small he thought Abby had been looking, that her clothes were not looser because of some ridiculous fashion. With a slow breath, he pushed his worries aside and moved to the bathroom again to check on his patients and to find medicine. He was greeted into the small but clean room with Abby's whimpers of displeasure. He cooed in sympathy as he went through the few drawers and one cabinet in the room. Finally, hiding at the bottom of the lowest drawer behind a strange array of junk, Ducky found a small bottle of Tylenol.
"Why would Abby even have this? She knows a dosage this low would have a mild effect on her, if any," Ducky pondered as he shook out the amount of pills he wanted.
"I'm surprised she even has that bottle. She told me she would only keep one bottle on hand for me, that she didn't use drugs." Ducky rolled his eyes at Sarah's input.
"Damn it Abby," he muttered as he forced the pills down her throat. By the third pill she began to regain some consciousness. Abby tried to scream as she felt something in her throat and the terrible cold all around her. Sarah's hand was instantly holding on to hers.
"Abby don't struggle! You're ok. You have a high temperature and we need to bring it down." Sarah's voice was low and as soothing as she could make it. Abby calmed for a moment until she recognized that that there was a pill in her mouth. She panicked. Her whole body convulsed in her attempt to get the pill out of her mouth. In surprise, Ducky let go of the back of her head, letting it slam into the water behind her. Abby bolted upright, gasping and wheezing as water rushed onto the floor and her nurses. Sarah shouted Abby's name in shock. In an amazing display of athleticism, Abby twisted and hefted her cold body out of the tub. She stumbled over Ducky and Sarah and got two large strides in before she fell hard onto the wet tile beneath her.
"Abby!" Sarah shouted as she hurried to the woman's side. She settled slightly behind her as space in the bathroom was at a premium.
"Are you hurt? Let me help you up," Sarah reached for Abbey's shoulders.
"Wait! I need to see if she reinjured anything. She fell directly on her torso." Dr. Mallard cautiously stepped over her body and to her head where it was resting on the thresh hold between bathroom and bedroom.
DiNozzo popped his knuckles one last time in his only outward display of nervousness before he opened the door to interrogation, a manila folder tucked firmly under his arm. Mark leaned back in his seat. The anger that had forced Gibbs to leave the room for actual fear of loss of control seemed to hang over the man.
"The old man have to change his diaper?" he asked acidly. DiNozzo smiled.
"Uh no. You are almost finished in here Mr. Spencer. Just a few more questions." Tony saw the man relax slightly.
"What were you doing last night around say ten and then on?" Mark scowled at him.
"Look. I already told this to the other guy. You people need to tell me why I'm still here before I get a lawyer and the media involved in this." DiNozzo had to give the guy credit for being the most narcissistic in the room. Tony took the chance to lean back in his chair too. Then he sat up quickly and looked at Mark with what he hoped was a slightly pervy, completely curious face.
"So what was she like? The girl with the ass," he asked with a lowered voice. Mark looked surprised but tried to cover it with a wicked grin.
"She was hot. Nice ass but small boobs. Wasn't too bad in the face. Would have been happy to test that ass out till she started acting like a little bitch." Mark realized his error and slammed his fist on the table. Before he could begin his volley of complaints Tony cut him off.
"Brunette or blond? I like the blonds myself." Mark sat quietly in his chair unsure of what the cop was playing at. Tony looked over at him.
"Look. I was taken off of my lunch break to come talk to you. I don't want to be in here anymore than you do. Can I at least get some enjoyment from picturing a woman that is not my nagging girlfriend?" Mark chuckled darkly despite his agitation.
"Bitches are annoying. Sorry your dick boss is making you miss lunch. I don't get any either." Tony was slightly surprised at Mark's sentiments but hid it by rubbing his fingers though his hair.
"The brunette was nice. The little friend with her was pretty damn hot too. All dark and shit," Mark said.
"Black?"
"No, Goth, vampire girl. She looked like she was a real good time. Nice body once she took her stupid coat off." Tony cracked his toes in an effort to control his urge to pop his knuckles.
"Goth isn't really my type," Tony answered.
"Oh you would have liked her anyway. She had that look on her face that all women have when they just need to get fucked. They will do anything." Tony ducked his head in what he hoped would look like he was covering a blush. He ran his fingers through his hair again to keep from striking the man on the other side of the table. Mark's eyes narrowed.
"What are you some kinda virgin?" he mocked.
"N-no not really. So why are you here and not just waking up with her or the brunette or something ?" Tony asked quickly.
"I tried to tell the 'ass girl' that she should accompany me to my apartment. She got all high and mighty and said no like she was some kind of hot shit. I saw her and the vampire slut leave a little later and I thought I might be able to show them to their car before they left. Show them I'm hot and a gentlemen. The brunette tried to kiss me and the Goth got jealous and the cops got called. Now I'm here." DiNozzo could not believe the lies this man was telling him.
"They sound hot. Who wouldn't want to see a cat fight?"
"Exactly ! All over me too." Mark gloated. Tony glanced discreetly at his watch. He wanted this to be over, now. He opened the folder he'd left sitting on the table with gravity.
"Unfortunately, that's not quite how she reported it. You know she wants to keep you here right?" Mark's previous scowl returned.
"Tell that bitch to shut her mouth! She had her chance to be with me yesterday. Send her in here and I'll let her know myself."
"Her 'vampire' friend wasn't very nice either, called you all sorts of names. She said, and I quote, no one would willingly sleep with that loser." Mark's face darkened into an ugly shade of red. His foot started to tap the floor in an unsteady rhythm.
"Why would they say that if you were being a gentleman last night?" Tony worked very hard to keep his character as weak and serious as he could. Mark's foot tapped a little harder on the ground as his face and neck continued to gather color.
"The Goth woman reported that you assaulted her and her friend last night in the parking lot of your work place. Is this true?" There was a beat of silence before Mark answered.
"Did she just walk in here today and tell you that?" Tony nodded.
"You're a liar." Mark leaned back in his seat, smug with his knowledge. Tony tried to look incredulous.
"What do you mean? Why would I lie to you?"
"There's no way that bitch came in to the station and said anything to you today." Tony dramatically glanced to the two way mirror and back at Mark.
"How can you be so sure? I got in this morning and the agent that interrogated you earlier told me that two young women were assaulted in a parking lot and wanted to file a report. He took the brunette's information and I took the other woman's. She quite clearly said that you, and I quote ' some worthless, ugly piece of shit attacked my friend in the parking lot and I fought him off, end quote. Then she went on to describe the fight. I'm surprised she got the best of you, you're not a small guy. Do you want any more of the report? The rest is just a description of events and more name calling." Tony was almost surprised at how easily Mark was eating up his innocent nerdy officer act. He had to remember to thank McGee for all the material. Mark's nostrils flared before he started at Tony.
"You're still lying! The only way that bitch came in here today was by stretcher or body bag. No little girl beat me up in a parking lot!" he stood abruptly, the chair clattering to the floor. Tony nervously ran his fingers through his hair and tapped the page in the folder from which he'd been reading.
"Th-the report says both women walked in on their own accord. You should s-sit down Mr. Spencer. There's no reason t-to ..." Tony stammered. Mark ignored him.
"It cannot be written down that some bitch beat me in a fight. I stabbed her for God's sake! She bled everywhere. I should file a report for defamation of character! I..." Gibbs burst through the door and overpowered Mark roughly.
"Mark Spencer you are under arrest for assault with a deadly weapon." Gibbs read him his rights while he roughly cuffed him and moved him to the door. Tony had to use all of his strength to keep from laughing at the surprised look of Mark's face.
"Abby can you hear me?" he asked gently as he felt her head for injuries. She answered an affirmative between short, cautious breaths.
"Are you hurt?" Ducky saw her eyes gaze up to his, her mouth drawn into a tight line. "Any more than before?" he amended at her silence. She slowly shook her head from side to side to answer the negative.
"I'm fine," she whispered. With great effort, she convinced herself to get up from the floor one shaky movement at a time. Ducky and Sarah worked as one to gently lift her from the tiles and carpet and into the warm bed across the room. To Abby's credit, she kept her noises of discomfort to a minimum as her two friends jostled her about. Tears of relief watered Abby's blood shot eyes when she felt her body make contact with her favorite place to sleep. Ducky wiped a wet lock of hair from the young woman's brow and accepted the fluffy towel Sarah was handing him. Ducky worked the towel gently over her face and head, checking again for any missed injuries from the most recent fall. On the other side of the bed, Sarah stealthily crawled to Abby's other side and dried her wet body. To her relief, Abby's skin was cooler to the touch. Just as she turned her head to ask Ducky if the bath had been able to help at all, she watched Ducky pull the thermometer out of their patient's ear. His tight smile assured her they were back in safer waters and she continued to tenderly dry Abby's injured body.
"Abby are you still awake?" Ducky ventured into the quiet room. Her eyes, made small with pain and a slightly lower fever, gazed at his mouth before they settled on his eyes. Abby barely got the whispered yes out of her mouth before she sneezed. White and pink explosions flashed in front of her eyes and she was left watching blue and green stars as her vision cleared. Out of habit Ducky sent out a hasty "bless you." As soon as the salutation was made he nearly bit his tongue.
"Abby..." her eyes glanced at his before they closed again and she leaned into the pillows they'd assembled to keep her more upright. Ducky was surprised to find a glitter of humor before he realized she was drifting off.
"Wait Abigail. Just a few more moments of your time please." Abby's eyes drifted back open and she stared at the unlikely pair of Sarah and Ducky through half lidded, jade slits. Cautiously, Ducky rechecked her stab wound and found that it had started to bleed again.
"Abby, are you shaking because you're cold or from something else?" Sarah asked, her voice small. Abby gave the girl her full attention and attempted a half smile.
"Not sure, " she breathed in reply.
"Can't we slip a t-shirt or something on her Ducky?" Ducky was worrying about the wound and hadn't taken in Abby's apparel, or lack thereof, before he'd begun to treat the wound. A light blush covered the apples of his cheeks.
"Let me replace her bandage first. Then I'll leave you to help her into something less wet and more appropriate." Sarah nodded in reply and moved to find something comfortable in the deep drawers of the dresser. She shook her head at the amount of clothing the woman owned. A very familiar shirt resting on the top of a stack in the bottom drawer, grabbed her attention. Tim's red MIT shirt laid proudly on a stack of his clothing, reminding her once again that Abby was someone truly special. Sarah remembered the shirt as his first ever 'college' shirt. Her parents has purchased it for him the day they'd moved him into the dorms. They declared him an official MIT students when he'd slipped it on for their family picture. The memory of the day stung at her eyes and she blinked back tears as she pulled the shirt and a pair of Tim's gym shorts out of the drawer.
"I'm so sorry Timmy," she whispered into the shirt as it hung limply in her small arms.