A/N: It feels like its been forever since I posted the last chapter of this fic. Sorry about that. I've been dealing with some things in real life that have effectively smothered my muse, but I think she's coming back, mostly because of the help of some special friends. Thanks to Jane, who convinced me that I just need to write and Erin, who convinced me that I could, and did an awesome beta job on this for me. I promise that the next chapter won't take so long.

II

She was so tired. More then anything Abby wished that she could sleep. She'd do almost anything for a horizontal surface and a pillow; something more then the damn chair. Every time she started to doze off, her head would drop, pulling at the muscles in her shoulder and sending another wave of pain through her arm. She tried to force herself to sit up straighter and do her best not to move the arm, but it was getting harder to care. All her muscles were screaming from staying in one position for so long, that one pain was hardly distinguishable from any other.

Time had no meaning anymore. Days, weeks, months; she wasn't sure how long she'd been here. She couldn't seem to focus on anything. She tried running through the periodic table of the elements in an effort to keep her mind focused. When that had proven to be too difficult she moved to multiplication facts. How many days, she wondered, could she go without sleep or food before it preeminently affected her brain? She'd have to ask Ducky… if she ever saw him again.

"Now don't think like that," she muttered to herself.

"What's that, princess?" a voice asked mockingly.

Damn. She didn't realize that he was back. She must be worse off then she thought, because when she blinked her eyes and squinted, she noticed not only was he back, but he had set up a video camera.

"I've always wanted to be in a movie," Abby croaked sarcastically. She bit down on her lower lip and tried not to wince when her kidnapper deliberately squeezed her bad arm.

"Listen, bitch." Watson bent close to her ear, his breath making her squirm. "Pay close attention to what I am about to say. I am sending a message to your friend Gibbs. If you try to talk while the camera is recording, I will hurt you. This is between me and him. Do you understand?"

Abby nodded reluctantly, but it wasn't good enough for Watson. When he again applied pressure to her arm, she spat out a "yes, Sir."

"Good." Pushing the record button on the remote in his hand, Watson began speaking. Abby ignored him; what ever he said was of no consequence to her. She had a plan, and this time it was sure to work.

II

"I'm going to kill him," Gibbs growled when the video started playing. Forgetting the coffee cup, he balled his hands into fists. The hot liquid scorched his skin, but Gibbs didn't notice. His attention was focused on the image on the screen. He had prepared himself for seeing Abby tied up and blindfolded. He'd watched the first video often enough that the pictured was burned into his brain. This was a different matter.

The bastard had hurt her. One cheek was covered in a deep purple bruise, and dried blood was visible at her temple, but it was the way that she was cradling her left arm close to her body that had Gibbs absolutely seething. And that was only what he could see; who knew what else he had done to Abby?

"Oh my God." McGee's face paled and his hands faltered on the keyboard. Tony swore under his breath when McGee accidentally hit the pause button. Only Ziva appeared unaffected. A few bruises and a little blood didn't worry her; she had suffered both and inflicted much worse. The gun pressed into the side of Abby's neck was a different matter. Her fingers itched to rip it away from him and teach him what it felt like to be on the business end of a weapon.

The man on the video was wearing a ski mask and gloves, but when he looked into the camera all of their suspicions were confirmed; the blue eyes were indeed those of former Navy Captain Michael Watson. Gibbs barely gave him a glance, tuning out the altered voice as it explained how they were to deliver the money. He was entranced by Abby's face. He read it for any clue it could give him about how she was holding up and what she was feeling. He was relieved by the fact that her eyes were sharp and clear. At least she wasn't unconscious or drugged.

Focused, he almost missed the clue he had been hoping to find. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed something. It might have been nothing, but he had to be sure.

"Play it again," he instructed.

"The whole thing?" McGee asked resignedly.

"Not yet. Go back about thirty seconds." There it was, a motion at the bottom of the screen. Stepping backwards towards his desk, not wanting to look away from the screen, Gibbs opened up the top drawer and removed his glasses.

"One more time." Watching the clip for a third time, he couldn't help but smile. It might have been subtle, but it was just what he needed. "That's my girl," he muttered affectionately.

"Boss?" Tony questioned confusedly as he watched a grin spread across Gibbs' face.

"McGee," Gibbs said, ignoring Tony. "Pull up that computer thing you used last year. The one with the satellite pictures."

Despite the vague details, McGee knew what was being asked of him. It only took him a few minutes to access the satellite imagery scanning software that he had originally designed to find a serial killer's dumping ground.

"Ready boss," McGee said. Silently, he wondered what new information Gibbs had been able to glean from the grainy video image, but unlike Tony he didn't have the nerve to ask.

"Abby's being held in a cabin high up enough in elevation that they received snow in the last few days. There are no neighbors, or at least none in residence right now. And somewhere within view of the cabin in a cell tower. Find me that cabin, McGee. Now." Gibbs circled around his desk and sat in the chair. He wanted to be within reach of his drawer, so that the moment they had a location he could grab his gun and leave.

"I don't get it," Tony admitted. "All I see is Abby and a coward in a mask. What are you seeing that I'm not?"

"It's not what I'm seeing, it's how I interpret it." Any other time, Gibbs would have remained silent until Tony figured it out on his own. Today he didn't have the time or the patience. "Watch her hands."

It only took Tony a few seconds of watching to realize what Gibbs was talking about. "Sign language," he grinned. "She told you all those details in signs." His smile faded and turned into a frown. "You don't think Watson noticed, do you?"

"For Abby's sake I hope not," Ziva spoke for the first time since the video had played. "At this point, Watson doesn't have much to lose. If he thinks that Abby gave us enough clues to find them, there is no telling what he might do."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Gibbs growled. Glaring at McGee, as if that would make the computer search any faster, Gibbs pulled out his gun and laid it on the desk. Clasping the clip in the palm of his hand, he rubbed it with the pad of his thumb as if the motion would bring him luck. Just as he was about to order Tony and Ziva downstairs to gas the truck, McGee jumped up.

"I've got it, boss!" he exclaimed. "There are only two areas within the parameters that match the info you gave me."

"Good. You and Ziva can take one, Tony and I will take the other." Sliding the clip into the gun in one effortless motion, Gibbs jumped out of his chair and snatched the piece of paper with the coordinates written on it out of McGee's hand. "Coming, DiNozzo?"

"On your six, boss." Tony grabbed his own gun and followed Gibbs to the elevator: Ziva and McGee right behind them.