A/N: WELL. 16 reviews, and, as promised, chapter 4 is out! There is one thing you must know: I am a spotty writer. Not chicken pox spotty. Spotty as in, I write random parts out when I feel in a certain mood, and try to connect them. For instance, I was really depressed yesterday, so I wrote a two-page-log doc that won't be used until this fic is in the double digits chapter-wise. If it ever gets there. That's why I'm not always on time; I use my fic-writing time to write things that y'all won't see for months because of the storyline. ANYWAY. Chapter 4. Sorry for the lyrics, but they're pretty, plus appropriate, so I included them. Copyright: The Goo Goo Dolls.
DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE. If it were, NCIS'd be out on DVD already.
Abby laughed loudly, cheeks flushed, and walked straight into McGee's front door.
"Ow," she giggled.
"You're drunk, darling," McGee informed her, snaking his arm around her waist to unlock the door. Abby stuck her tongue out at him before stumbling into the room. "And you're lucky I'm not Tony," he continued. It was a bit unfair, he knew, but whatever… Abby mumbled something incoherently at him and tripped onto the couch. Even in her inebriated state, she could tell the room was pure McGee. Bookish, with one corner taken up by a fireplace, another by a large computer system that was whirring quietly as matrices scrolled down the screen.
"I love your house," she said, hiccupping.
"Mmhmm," McGee said, locking the door and walking over to her. "Shoes off, love." Abby kicked off her boots obediently, and surprised him by taking her shirt and skirt off as well. Okay. McGee pushed her back onto the couch and went into his bedroom, retrieving one of his shirts. "Arms up." He tugged it over her head. Abby kissed him; he kissed back, but when it got too heated, he withdrew. It took a lot of effort. This was going too far, and he knew he would never forgive himself if he took advantage of her this way. Picking Abby up in his arms, he lay her on the bed and pulled the sheets up to her chin. Grabbing and extra pillow and blanket, he walked back into the living room and fell asleep on the couch.
The first thing Abby thought when she awoke was that a troop of Scottish dancers had found their way into her head, and were feverishly pounding out the Craggy Kilt Dance on the inside of her skull. She rolled over, shoving a pillow over her head to block out the piercing light coming through her eyelids. Wait... pillow? She sat upright, ignoring the flash of light behind her eyes. McGee… she cursed. What had happened last night? The last thing she remembered doing was taking off her shirt… The other side of the bed was smooth and undisturbed, though, so maybe…? A thought struck her. Had they done it on the floor? Shit. She walked unsteadily towards the kitchen. An orange canister flew at her head; she grabbed it reflexively, holding it two inches away from her face in an effort to identify it. The words swam in and out of focus. Aspirin?
"Is that your normal morning greeting, then?" she asked, spotting McGee across the room, doing something with eggs. "Chucking pharmaceuticals at people?"
"Pretty much, yeah. Figured you could use it," he said, turning. "Morning, Abbs. How'd you sleep?"
"Good," she said, getting a glass from the shelf above the sink. "Sorry about last night. We didn't, er…"
"No," he said, smiling warmly at her. "But it was a fight. Breakfast?"
"Nah," Abby said sarcastically. "Of course! I didn't know you cooked."
"Not much," he said. "I can do the basics, though." Abby downed three Aspirins (she always took one above the recommended dosage) and sat down across from him at the small table.
"Music?" McGee asked. "Don't have much metal, but it's alright for me…"
"Sounds good," Abby said. "Contrary to popular opinion, I can listen to music other than death metal."
"Right," McGee said, getting the remote and turning on the stereo.
And you ask me what I want this year
And I try to make this kind and clear
Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days
Cuz I don't need boxes wrapped in strings
And desire and love and empty things
Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days
So take these words
And sing out loud
Cuz
everyone is forgiven now
Tonight's the night the world begins
again
And it's someplace simple where we could live
And
something only you can give
And that's faith and trust and peace
while we're alive
And the one poor child that saved this world
And
there's 10 million more who probably could
If we all just stopped
and said a prayer for them
So take these words
And sing out
loud
Cuz everyone is forgiven now
Tonight's the night the world
begins again
I wish everyone was loved tonight
And somehow
stop this endless fight
Just a chance that maybe we'll find better
days
Tonight's the night the world begins again
Abby closed her eyes, feeling strangely peaceful despite her headache. This is where I should be, she thought. It felt right, eating breakfast with McGee, here in the sun- drenched kitchen, in one of his soft shirts that was slightly too big for her. She was more comfortable here than anywhere else… save in McGee's arms. Abby smiled at him warmly, and he returned it, grinning at her from across the table.
Two hours later found Gibbs' team assembled in the bullpen, despite the fact that it was a Saturday morning. McGee had thrown slacks on, and Tony was simply wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
"I love working on weekends," he muttered to the younger agent. "It's like dress-down Fridays with overtime wages. Suh-weet."
McGee shook his head, before directing his attention to Gibbs as he took the remote and brought a picture up on the screen.
"Lieutenant Trent Connors," Gibbs said, gesturing at the man's photo. "Director of staffing here. And, according to Ziva and Tony, just about as corrupt as it comes. Unfortunately, we have no evidence of this. So… hit the books, kiddies. I want reports on anyone who's seen him in a relatively suspicious area, criminal records, check his fingerprints against existing cold cases, all of it."
The team saluted as one, and Abby made for the elevator, followed by McGee. "We've got dibs on the crim recs!" she called just before the doors closed.
"Dammit!" Tony said, flopping into his chair. "They always get the fun ones. That leaves us with… urg. People stuff. Credit card companies, all that rot… god, I always feel like I'm running a phone bank when I do this one," he grumbled. Ziva rolled her eyes.
((Four Hours Later))
"No, not bombers, Connors, rhymes with 'honors,' I've told you tw-"
"-Credit card usage-no, what? No, I will not give you my number-"
"-O as in orange, N as in nine-"
"Really? I remember specifically asking for beige. If I'd wanted desert sand, I'd have said desert sand!"
"N as in nitrogen, O as in orangutan-"
"Yes, thank you, finally, his serial's 0909552-"
"Love you too, babe-"
"I said BEIGE!"
"Yes, I am Italian, thanks for noticing; you know, a lot of women think Italian men are hot-"
"CheezeWiz? He bought forty dollars worth of CheezeWiz!"
"Right, 246-0051, got it… maybe I'll call you tonight. Right now, though, could you do me a huge favor and tell me WHAT THE HELL HE SPENT FORTY DOLLARS ON LAST FRIDAY?"
"CheezeWiz," Ziva called over to Tony.
"Right, thanks," he responded, hanging up the phone and perusing the screen in front of him. "So that's what we're charging him for, then? Excessive cheddar."
Ziva snorted. "Yeah, 'cause you know Gibbs would just love that."
"Gibbs would love what?" Abby asked, striding into the bullpen. "And speaking of boss-man, where is he? Our guy's clean through and through. I've got Timmy hacking into the database's files now, but he says it's gonna take a bit."
"Super. We have absolutely nothing to report then," Ziva said, running a hand through her hair.
"Hold the phone," Tony said, peering at his computer. Ziva reached in her pocket and took out her cell phone, looking at Abby confusedly. The girl tried not to laugh.
"Tell you later," Abby whispered.
"Got something," Tony called, putting a picture up on the projector screen.
"That's Connors," he said unnecessarily, pointing to the man on the right. "And that-"
"That's Chip," Abby said. Tony looked at her quickly. She was staring at the photo, and he realized that she hadn't seen him after the attack. The last time she had seen the man, there had been a piece of glass sticking out his chest. Probably not the best memory.
"Right," Ziva said hurriedly, clearly seeing the same thing. "But there's nothing here that's suspicious, Tony." She was right. The two men stood in the background of a small café, the foreground taken up by a smiling couple. Chip and Connors appeared to be shaking hands.
"Aha! That's where you're wrong, Miss David," Tony said triumphantly, zooming in on the two men's hands. Abby's eyes widened. The green tinge of money shone brightly from between the clasped hands.
"One of them was paying the other, probably for something illegal" Tony explained.
"That's great," Ziva said, clearly irked that she hadn't found the picture, "but it's still nothing definite."
"True," Tony admitted. "But it's a start."
"Zoom in to the right of Connors' shoulder," Abby said suddenly, studying the screen. "There," she said, jabbing a finger at the screen. A man had come into focus, standing slightly away from Connors, as to not affiliate himself with the man. His face was hard and calculating, though that wasn't what had caught the attention of those present. They were much more focused on the gun sticking out of his pocket.
"Yep, I'd say that's suspicious," Abby said happily.
They showed their findings to Gibbs later that day. Or rather, everyone but Tony showed it to him, and the man in question leaned back in his desk and browsed through a magazine. Gibbs showed no surprise at the picture, and simply barked at them in his Gibbs-ish way.
"I want an ID on this guy," he said. Tony rummaged around lethargically in his desk, emerging triumphant with a folder in his hand. McGee, having also anticipated his boss's orders and having received a phone call from Abby, was ready as well with a packet of his findings on both Connors and the other man.
"Trent de Vries," he said. "Lives in LA. Has no rap sheet; he's squeaky clean." Seeing Gibbs' look of annoyance, McGee continued quickly. "However, upon a… strategic probe… of NCIS' database, we find that he's a suspect for a murder case. The most prominent suspect, in fact. Thing is, no one's keeping track of him. I traced the case back as far as I could; it disappeared in 2001. Just fell off the face of the earth," he finished. Gibbs nodded.
"Sounds like a common corporate cover-up," he said. "Hush up the department with a bit of the green stuff, until everyone 'forgets' that the case ever existed. What was the crime?" he inquired.
"Murder," McGee answered, wincing. "Killed his wife, a Marine." The group fell quiet, thinking. The silence was broken abruptly as the elevator doors slid open and Abby rushed out, face pale.
"I Googled the couple from the picture. Mike and Kathy McCarthy," she said hurriedly, as if it explained everything. "They were found dead in their home, murdered, the house ransacked. All the cameras and photos were gone. The case went into the back files; there was no evidence, none at all, in the house. He must have figured out that they had a picture of him," She took a deep breath. "And… he killed their kid. Their nine-year-old son." The entire group had blenched, except for Gibbs. "But when he took the photos…" Gibbs realized,
"He forgot to check the computer," Abby finished.
A/N:
MissColdEmber: LoL… he IS cute.
Jacey05: Thanks! I know, I'm always getting annoyed because there are so few McAbbys. Grr.
Toplesslemon: LoL. Your review made my day… thanks so much!
Little Eirtae: Loves back thanks! (and I accept the bribe. Mmm…cookie…)
Graysen: Thanks for reviewing!
Not A Muggle: Well...here's the next one!
655321: KEPT…WRITING…
LosingInTranslation: Thanks SO much for the criticism…it's things like that that make us better writers. I tried to work on the dialogue shifts this time around…
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