A/N: Much thanks to thoughtgoddess for the betaing. Sorry about the long wait between chapters, but I was busy touring the set and meeting Gerald and Ari. There are at least 2 more chapters, and I'm going to try really hard to get them done by the end of the month. I'm taking a fanfic hiatus for the month of November (NaNoWriMo.)

II

She was lying in a hammock as it swung gently back and forth. The air was thick and heavy like the summers of her childhood, and she could hear the soft chirping of the cicadas on the riverbank. The only thing that would make it better was if she had a Caf!Pow in her hand. But then she would have to open her eyes and she was enjoying the sensation of floating.

i Abby, its time to wake up. /i

'I'm not sleeping,' she wanted to argue. 'I'm just resting my eyes.' But she couldn't speak, couldn't tell whoever was calling to leave her alone. She couldn't move her arm either. Something was weighing it down, pressing it against her chest. She tried to struggle against the weight but her arms became entangled in the hammock. No, not the hammock, she remembered as the Louisiana summer faded away. The rope. Watson's rope, holding her to the chair. She must have fallen asleep, but the dream was gone now.

i Open your eyes, Abbs. /i

How dare he call her Abbs? That was a nickname that only her closest friends used. When she first met Tony he had called her Abbs and she had refused to give him the test result he was asking for. That was the first time Gibbs had slapped the back of his head. It had taken months, and dozens of Caf!Pows, before she had told him that he could use her nickname. Her kidnapper did not get that privilege. It didn't really matter, though. She had sent a message to Gibbs and he was going to find her. She almost felt sorry for Watson when that happened. Gibbs, with his icy blue stare and his gun held in a steady hand, was not someone to mess with.

"Gibbs is coming," she muttered, licking her dry lips. At least the duct tape covering her mouth was gone.

i Abby/i

A warm hand cupped her cheek and the persistent voice grew more demanding. With her eyes closed the voice sounded almost like Gibbs. The neurons in her brain must be going haywire dealing with the pain and lack of nutrition if it could be tricked into thinking Watson sounded like Gibbs. No one in the world sounded like Gibbs except for Gibbs. The voice kept calling her, demanding that she open her eyes, until she finally relented. Maybe then he would stop talking and she could return to her dream. Sometimes when she dreamed she could change things around her, and she'd like to see if she could change the hammock on the bank of the river into a handmade wooden boat so she could sail away.

Her eyelids were so much heavier than she remembered them being. Maybe the blindfold weighted them down again. She couldn't feel the rub of the rough material against her skin, though. When she concentrated as hard as she could on opening her eyes she finally succeeded. Everything was blurry at first, but then it came into focus. She wasn't in the cabin anymore, wasn't tied to the chair. And unless she was hallucinating, the man leaning over her bed and repeating her name was Gibbs.

"Are you a dream?" she rasped.

"None of my ex-wives would call me a dream. In fact, at least a couple of them would say the opposite." He smiled at her, but it was more out of relief than humor. He had been sitting next to her hospital bed ever since they had moved her from the emergency room to the third floor four hours ago.

"Are you sure you're not a dream or a hallucination? Because it would be a mean trick if you weren't really you and I woke up back in the cabin and..."

"Abbs." He stopped her with a finger pressed gently to her lips. "I'm really here and you are never going to be in that cabin again. Okay?"

His finger still resting against her skin, Abby only nodded. The sudden motion was enough to cause the room to spin, or at least that was the way she perceived it. Her first reaction was to throw out her arms to steady herself, but when she did she found that neither arm moved easily. One was encased in white plaster, and the other one was tethered to an IV line.

"So I guess it really was broken, huh?" Gibbs expression was grim when she drew his attention to the cast. There was a trace of anger in his eyes, and even though she knew it wasn't directed at her she didn't like it. "Plain white plaster? They didn't have black, or pink, or camouflage? White is not going to blend well with my fashions."

As she had hoped, her teasing was enough to pull a smile from Gibbs. It faded too quickly, though, and was replaced by a look that Abby was all too familiar with- the one he wore when he wanted answers without all the extraneous details. Abby wasn't ready to answer the questions she knew that he would ask.

"Why don't you sit down, Gibbs. I'm not going to make a dash for the door if you relax." Studying him carefully she could see signs of exhaustion, and she worried about him. If she knew Gibbs, he probably hadn't gotten more than a few hours of sleep in the last few days. She'd bet good money that his usual coffee intake had doubled, if not tripled, in order to compensate. If she tried to suggest that he get some rest he'd refuse, but at least she could get him off his feet.

Gibbs shook his head. "I should let everyone know that you are awake."

"Everyone?" Abby furrowed her brow and looked over at the empty doorway. "Who else is here?"

"Who isn't here?" Gibbs muttered. "Tony's been here the whole time. He was... he and I were the ones who found you at the cabin. McGee and Ziva got here shortly before they moved you up from the ER. Ducky and Palmer arrived about an hour ago."

"Are things at work really that slow? Shouldn't they be out working cases?" She remembered vaguely that they had been working a case involving a Petty officer, and wondered who had processed the evidence while she was gone. Who ever it was better not have messed with her computer or her CD collection.

"The only case we've been working since Tuesday morning is yours." Jen had said something about reassigning his team's current cases to other NCIS agents, but for the first time in his career he hadn't given a damn about his work.

"Oh." It was strange to think of everyone gathered in a hospital waiting for her to wake up. Like déjà vu, except that she and Gibbs had traded places. Because she knew what they were feeling right now, she reluctantly let Gibbs out of her sight. "You'll come right back, though, won't you?"

"I promise." He kissed her forehead, lingering with his lips against her skin for a moment before leaving the room.

II

They must have all been waiting just outside in the hallway, because Abby didn't even reach a count of sixty before Gibbs returned. Tony entered the room right behind him, with a handful of markers. "I figured you'd want the cast decorated ASAP," he teased. "Plain white plaster just isn't you."

"That's what I said." She smiled at Tony, but he didn't look her in the eyes. He already had one of the pens uncapped, and after moving a chair so that it was positioned to the side of her arm he sat down and began doodling on her cast. His face was half turned away from her, and she couldn't read his expression at all.

Ziva's expression was much clearer as she walked through the doorway. Concern, which a year ago would have been strange but now was reassuring, and an anger that rivaled Gibbs' own. She didn't say anything, but nodded and moved to stand in the corner of the room. Abby was reminded of the guards at Buckingham palace- unmoving but with a watchful eye.

"I thought you might find this comforting, Abby." Ducky's arms were full as he entered the room, Jimmy following with a nervous smile.

"You are a prince among men, Ducky." Abby tried to reach up for the stuffed hippo, forgetting about the immobility of her arms. Ducky gently raised Abby's arm and placed Bert on the bed next to her, letting her hand rest on the grey plush.

"There may have been a Lord or two among the Mallard ancestors, but I'm afraid that is as noble as my family gets. You, on the other hand my dear, are going to receive better treatment than the queen. I've been talking with your attending physician and..."

"I don't think she needs any of the details right now, Duck." With a pointed glance Gibbs stopped Ducky.

"You are right, Jethro. Forgive me, Abigail. All you need to know is that everything is going to be fine, and we are all going to ensure that you are completely taken care of."

"Thank you, Duckman. For bringing Bert and for looking out for me."

"My pleasure."

"Hey McGee." Her eyes were starting to droop by the time she noticed McGee standing at the foot of the bed.

"Hey Abby. You look-"

"Like crap?"

"No, not at all. You look… I'm just happy to see you." There had been times during the past days when he had wondered if he ever would see her again. See her alive. He didn't say that out loud, though.

"Thanks Timmy," she half said, half yawned.

"Go to sleep, Abbs," Gibbs ordered.

"I only just woke up," she argued half-heartedly.

"Your body needs sleep to aid in your recovery," Ducky said, backing up Gibbs.

"It's okay, Abby. We'll all still be here when you wake up." Tony, understanding how Abby felt, looked up from his pen to reassure her.

"Promise?" she asked. Her eyes fluttered closed before anyone could reply. She didn't see Jimmy leave the room to scavenge for extra chairs and didn't see McGee and Ziva slip out only to return in minutes with coffee for everyone. She would have been comforted to see the way everyone settled around the room; they weren't going anywhere.