Gibbs stared at Abby's body for a brief moment before deciding he had to get out of there and as far away as possible, for now. He continued through the dining room and emerged into the living room. At the end furthest from where he was standing, there was a staircase leading upwards. He walked over to it, throwing both care and caution to the wind. After a slight pause on the bottom step, Gibbs thundered noisily up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
On the landing, he stopped and surveyed the top floor. There were three doors on one side of the hallway and two on the other. At the end, there was another door, presumably leading to a master bedroom.
Well, he thought, unknowingly clenching his jaw and his fists, I guess I'd better do something to keep me occupied and it may as well be something useful. With a sigh, he headed for the farthest door at the end.
Instinct took over, and Gibbs mechanically turned around, walked down the stairs and out the front door to his car. He popped the trunk open, now thankful that he always kept a spare evidence kit in there. He had, of course, completely forgotten- whether purposely or accidentally- that there was no one to process the evidence and nothing to do with it.
He lifted the case out of his trunk and thought it felt heavier than usual. After closing the lid of the trunk, he set it down on the roof of his car and opened it. There was nothing unexpected inside; in fact, it was almost time for him to be restocking on a few things. He shrugged and closed it back up before heading back inside to do his job and try not to think about why he was doing it and who it was for.
He went back in the front door and didn't even look towards the dining room before rushing back up the stairs. Upon opening the door he had been heading towards in the first place, he discovered that he had been right. It was the master bedroom. Typical of Ari's flamboyant nature and egotistical pride, the room was done in a deep red with gold accents. It was a nice enough room, but Gibbs found it immensely disappointing.
A bedroom was, by and large, one of the best places to start when investigating. By examining a bedroom, one could figure out some of the deepest and darkest secrets of the owner, whether they were a suspect or a victim.
Ari, of course, had to have known this. The room, presumably his, was not only clean, it was sterile. Even more so than your average hotel room. All it told Gibbs was that either Ari was a neat freak, or he had known, perhaps even hoped, that Gibbs would come. Gibbs sighed and set about his futile task of gathering evidence.
With a sudden stroke of brilliance that Abby would have been proud of, Gibbs decided to start in the connecting bathroom. He swabbed the entire room for blood, from the mirror to the floor to the oversized Jacuzzi bathtub, and even the drains. The only thing that he picked up was ammonia on the mirror. He had enough background knowledge in Forensics just from hanging out with Abby to know that ammonia always gave a false positive with the kits. It was about time that someone did something about that anyway.
After a good hour and a half, Gibbs gave up on the bathroom, leaving only the toilet and the door untouched. He constantly had to remind himself that he was only doing a preliminary search and could always come back when Kate, Tony and Ducky got there.
He wandered back into the bedroom and sighed, giving it one last look over. His eyes rested briefly on the fireplace, the only thing that seemed to have been left out of the obsessive cleaning spree. There was, of course, a pile of blackened papers and wood, but it wasn't these that grasped his interests, holding him in place, captivated by the endless possibilities.
Lying in the corner of the fireplace, probably only just out of reach of the flames when it was lit, was a small silver ring. He recognized it instantly as being one of Abby's own and simply stared at it for several minutes. Finally breaking out of his spell-like fascination, he walked over to the fireplace and knelt on the floor.
The ring was blackened from the smoke of a fire, but was cool to the touch. He guessed that, if it had come from a fire lit in this fireplace, it had been lit several hours ago, but most likely at some point that day. He picked it up and looked at it. It was Abby to a 'T' with its unique design of a snake twisted around a rose. He slid the ring into his pocket, along with a few scraps of paper that had also managed to escape the wrath of the flames.
Gibbs suddenly realized that he was in the mood for anything other than working Abby's crime scene. After a final look around the room, with a good deal less enthusiasm, he turned and walked out the door, shutting it softly behind him and never looking back. If there were any hints as to what had happened to Abby in there, all hopes of finding them were gone with the foreboding click of the door as it closed softly.
Gibbs walked slowly down the stairs, unknowingly running his finger along the banister as though inspecting it for dust. Even if that had been his intention, he would have been very disappointed. Had he been paying attention to anything, he would have soon realized that the entire house was as sterile as the bedroom. Anything left behind had must have been for a reason, whether it was a part of Ari's sick game that Gibbs no longer wanted anything to do with, or whether it was simply unimportant.
At the bottom of the stairs, Gibbs did suddenly realize something, though not about the house or anything as trivial as that.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath as he realized what had happened. Apparently deciding he liked this phrase, he now yelled it. "Son of a bitch!"
He had been guaranteed sixty hours to find Abby alive, at the very least, and even twenty four to find her unharmed. Less than eighteen hours into his little mind game, Ari had already killed his bait. Abby had been the proverbial mouse, as much as Gibbs hated the comparison.
That didn't sit too well with Gibbs. He had pushed all thoughts of Abby out of his head, at least for now. Why would Ari so quickly get rid of the one asset he had? Surely he didn't expect Gibbs to keep looking for him, did he?
But of course he does, Gibbs realized suddenly. He knows you won't be able to stay away from him, knowing that he killed Abby. He knows you'll do everything in your power to avenge her death.
Knowing this, Gibbs had a decision to make. Should he put his focus back on his work, or should he fall into the trap for Abby's sake? Abby would, of course, tell him that he would be a fool to walk right into the trap. But what was he telling himself to do? Without another second of thought, he knew what he would do, whatever the cost.
Gibbs finally sank onto the couch in the living room, giving his weary limbs a well-deserved break. His head fell forward onto his hands, and for the first time in who knew how long, Gibbs began to pray. He prayed for strength and courage and his team, but mostly he prayed for Abby's soul. He didn't know how the whole Heaven/Hell thing worked, but he had heard that some people believed you could only get to Heaven if someone prayed for your soul. Gibbs wasn't sure that he believed this, but he didn't much care. There was no way that he'd be responsible for Abby going to Hell.
Slowly, Gibbs felt his resolve weakening and his adrenaline rush wearing thin. He knew that he was tired and sore and needed to relax, but he also knew that now was neither the time nor the place.
At some point, as he sat, the tears began leaking through his fingers. He made no attempt to stem the flow. Abby had been, if nothing else, a wonderful friend and colleague, and she deserved the tears being shed in her name.
Not even five minutes later, Gibbs heard the door of the truck slam. He hurriedly wiped his hands across his face. There would be a time and a place for mourning, but right now he needed to be the strong one. He was, after all, the boss, and he would not let the team see his weakness at a time like this.
With a deep breath, Gibbs forced himself to get off of the couch and go to meet his team.
