It was about three nerve wracking days before she came to. For those three days her pulse, breathing, and vitals returned to normal slowly. There were false alarms, uncommon, but there were. She would come out of the coma for a brief second, twitching her eyelids or her finger, but then she'd fall right back into it.

The four agents, plus Ducky and Jimmy, were kept on their toes. Her false alarms were so brief that they had only been informed that they'd happened—not when or for how long. They did get frequent phone calls informing them that her condition was continually escalating, however, which kept them hopeful for now. The current crisis had passed.

They missed her smiling face, her snide comments, the bounce in her step that followed her everywhere. Her phone calls, her voice, everything about her, the added absence of all of it was missed. It wasn't only her absence, either. The week before she fell ill, ever since Sean's murder, she had been acting differently. It didn't escape their keen notice and, since they had a good idea as to why, they didn't pry.

In the meantime, cases came and went easily. It seemed that the "real" bad guys, those that really tried their patience every now and then, were in hiding for the moment. At first, Tony had come up with wild conspiracy theories ("They're all out to get Abby 'cause she's too smart for them!") but those had been quickly put to rest when they began to unnerve the others. For all they knew, there was always a small chance that they'd come true. They couldn't think of Abby in as much danger as they had a feeling she was in.

Eventually, Tony's joking came to a slow halt. Ziva ceased her teasing. Gibbs was snapping easily. McGee's conversation was sparse. Things just seemed absent without Abby. How someone could hate her so much was way beyond their reduced-to-primitive comprehension. It was true, they had contemplated rather seriously outside of Tony's strange ideas, but nothing seemed to make sense.

On day two of her coma, the four of them were sitting around. The air hung thickly between them like a fog. The doctors had been predicting she'd be awake by now, but she hadn't yet awoken. They were anxiously busying themselves in paperwork, but obviously their focuses were elsewhere, even Gibbs'.

Suddenly, "What can't she do?" Gibbs gruff voice pierced the air like a thunderbolt; interrupting whatever they were up to and drawing the other three's focuses instantly. After daydreaming, zoning out, or dozing off, whatever it was, it took them all a moment to understand the words uttered by none other than tough ol' Leroy Jethro Gibbs himself.

"What, boss?" McGee eventually asked, voicing their collective thoughts.

"She had that conversation with her mother, Annabelle. Annabelle began to say she couldn't do something, but Abby cut her off," he reminded them.

His voice gave him away. No longer did he feel in a place of power over them, or a higher stature. In fact, he felt rather helpless and vulnerable; on the same level as them. It couldn't show in his eyes—not those bright blue balls of ice that were so well trained to hide what he was feeling. It was his voice that did him in, the one thing that he hadn't trained to shield himself with, because he had never thought he'd need to.

Tony picked up on that note. They all felt the same way; they were all swimming in the same pool of useless concern. From this, he took a bold move in saying, "Well, boss, we don't know."

Gibbs bit back his tongue to prevent himself from sharply responding, "Well find out, DiNozzo." What prevented him from doing so was the simple fact that he knew they were all in the same place and he just sighed instead and was quiet for a while.

They could speculate all they wanted, but it would get them nowhere. Ideas and stories wouldn't win anyone over. They needed the leads they didn't have, the answers they couldn't seek, and the connections they couldn't make. A sprinkling of frustration was added to the strange mix of emotions they were all sharing. Who could have known Abby would have such an effect on them?

Apparently, someone did, because that's what he preyed on. For him, it was like a lion catching a fat rabbit. Just too easy; they were practically handing it to him on a silver platter.

That rope that she clung to had been bouncing annoyingly for who knows how long. Time was an empty meaning in the trap that her mind had become. It was almost claustrophobic, despite the endless expanse of blackness and possibilities. She felt isolated in a place where technically she should be free, but she found that she felt frozen, alone, and mostly, afraid.

At some point, after desperate clawing and failed attempts, she managed to land on the tightrope again. For a while she clung to it as if her very life depended on it, which, for all she knew, it very well might. Gasps escaped her rhythmically, though she was far from out of breath. It was just an action that assisted her in conveying her fear to nobody in particular, if her trembling hadn't given her away already. Despite this fact, the rope didn't shake with her. It stayed solid and still so that she had no chance of falling.

When she managed to calm her breathing she took a chance and looked up. Surprisingly, that shimmery image she had been watching endlessly ever since she nearly fell into that… that hell, was solid and as clear as crystal and as vivid as a photo, framed in gold. Even more surprising, they, in this picture her mind had conjured up, were right in front of her. It was just another few steps until she could reach them. She could see their eyes and every sculpt of their expressions, those that she had memorized.

What disturbed her more was the fact that the first word that had come to mind when she thought of the thing below her was hell. In fact, she didn't even know if that was what it was. She didn't even know if it was death, though she found that it was easy to assume this. Her head swam as she tried to comprehend that remote mass she had encountered, but it felt real, and something flickered in her eyes for a moment before it faded. Something just told her, some unreal feeling, that what lay below was not a place she wanted to be, and that kept her going.

No. Most definitely, she wanted to be with the people that loved her.

When she found that she couldn't crawl in this obviously distressed position, she realized that whatever force was holding her here wanted her to stand up. It wanted her to stand up and face it, whatever it was, with as much strength as possible, as much as she could muster from herself. Another something told her because she was going to need it more than she could ever know. With that, she took another deep breath.

Somehow, she was steady on that rope as she stood up. The cord around her held her tightly in place, securing her, assuring her safety in this imaginary place. It tugged her forward lightly, but when she felt she didn't want to yet, it stopped. For a moment, she looked down into the blackness as if trying to analyze and understand it, despite the fact that she was aware that it was a futile attempt, and all of a sudden, she felt the most fear she had ever remembered feeling in her life when yet again, she drew the conclusion that she was unable to do so.

Then she looked up again. The image looked so promising, so safe and comforting, that she completely overlooked the shadowy figure. She braced herself and took baby steps towards them, feeling unsteady, but secretly knowing there was no way she could ever fall again, not while she was here.

Finally, she was on that ledge, and the flash came back. This time, it was clearer though.

A tiled white ceiling. She tried again to focus. Beeping. Again… again… a rush. Dizziness. Sick… sick… where…? It wasn't dark anymore. Where had that gone? She was spinning… no… no… falling? Suspended? Who? Where…?

(There is supposed to be a page break here, but of course, it's just showing up as a blank. Stupid FF.)

"Gibbs," he deadpanned into the phone. He refused to get his hopes up, despite the almost overwhelming urge to.

"She's awake."

Thunk.

Tony, McGee, and Ziva, seemingly in the same positions they had been in the previous day, looked up with startled alarm at the intruding noise. A million possibilities swirled in their heads, none of which they could place as they watched Gibbs drop his phone, none too gently, onto the floor, creating the offending thunk.

His expression, eyes, everything was unreadable. The voice he wasn't using was unable to convey to them the emotions and thoughts he was hiding behind his cool facade.

When he stood up abruptly, Ziva, Tony, and McGee instantly started gearing up automatically.

"Stop."

They did.

They dropped their belongings without a moment's hesitation. There were few places at the moment that they would go so quickly without their gear.

Hope brightened all of them like the sunlight breaking through a cloud. It showed on their faces, in their eyes, even in the smiles that they couldn't resist. A clinging hope was becoming a reality. Tony even breathed a short sigh of relief. Even frosty Gibbs, seeing their alighted faces, couldn't resist a smile of his own.

Gibbs barely remembered to phone autopsy before rushing out after his three agents, all four of them barely having the patience to wait for their ME's.

Thankfully, the nurses were accustomed to patients and friends and family of said patients. They were allowed in within a minute of stepping into that white waiting room. The room that Abby had been transferred to with her consciousness was small and somewhat cramped, but they were all more than happy to get over it and squeeze in.

Seats were drawn with Gibbs and Tony dominating her sides. Ziva and McGee came as close as they could, and Ducky and Jimmy sat at the foot of her bed.

They waited expectantly for her to be the first to say or do something. A hint of relief graced her features and hid behind her green eyes. As if to prove that point, her fingers kept drumming softly against the sheets, or she'd shift her weight back onto the pillows, but other than that she didn't move much.

Her jet black hair was splayed across the pillow as it was whenever she slept. The IV was still pumping a steady stream of ethanol and morphine into her bloodstream. While the worst of the side effects were gone, as they had all been informed upon first stepping in, she would still experience some remnants of the pain. The chances of blindness, severe fatigue, and possible coma had all passed.

They couldn't pay attention to the bland whiteness of the room that Abby disliked so much, or the contrast her pale skin and jet black hair and green eyes had against the white pillows. All they could focus on was straining to hear her voice again after what seemed like years, or if they were lucky, view her smile, the smile that only she could give. The smile that could light the darkest of rooms.

The smile that didn't seem to want to appear any time soon.

"W…" she stammered breathlessly, struggling to find her voice. It was a simple yet difficult and trying task, after having been in disuse for three days, but she tried clearing her throat. Six pairs of beyond relieved eyes were trained on her, much to her well hidden discomfort.

"W-where a-am I…?" It appeared as if she wanted to ask something more, but her raspy voice had given out as quickly as it had come. A deep breath filled her lungs and she coughed in response and in an attempt to help clear her chest and make talking easier.

"You are in the hospital, Abby," Ziva informed her softly.

Her face showed her next question before her voice could relay it.

"Methanol poisoning," Ducky supplied.

She took a few silent moments to consider this, her expression turning into one of slight fear. Then again, that was the only expression of hers that they seemed to remember from recent days, and it made all their hearts fall just a little.

When she didn't respond, Gibbs took the moment to probe. "Did you know anything about this, Abbs?" As a father might, he let his comforting hand move towards her and brush some stray black hair from her face, also serving the purpose of getting her attention on the matter at hand.

When his hand left her forehead, his attempts to regain her focus worked. She turned her head slightly to look at him, for the first time feeling the lack of strength that had seemed to sap from her like water after the exhaustion from the effort of waking up. Then again, it was worth it.

"No."

They didn't question her answer; they just treasured hearing her voice again.

All seriousness aside, friendship and worry took over in what seemed to be the blink of an eye.

"You scared us there, Abbs," Tony said, a small smile on his lips. She tried to respond but ended up with a light cough instead and Gibbs absently shushed her.

She focused on breathing—both her own and theirs—as the endless seconds ticked by, those that hadn't existed in her world earlier. The fact that time now had a meaning to her yet again gave her a needed respite from the fear she had felt in the trap, as she was now mentally referring to it. It was incomprehensible now that she was out and back in reality, however, and she knew she'd never be able to explain to them how close she had come to… to it.

They all seemed to be at a loss for words. Abby was the one that held all of the things left unsaid, and she was currently struggling. But she managed with a constant pattern of steady, if somewhat raspy, breaths. Gibbs sandwiched her thin, pale hand in between both of his own, rubbing steady, comforting circles on the back of her hand absently with his thumb. Tony refrained from touch, almost as if he thought it was too good to be true.

"Welcome back, Abbs," McGee finally said, but not just for himself; he said it for all of them. A shared look passed through all of them. Abby wanted to smile, but she just couldn't. It tortured her on the inside, but on the outside, she just looked thankful. And she was. She had her family who would go to any lengths to keep her safe and alive. From their sunken eyes and slight trembling here and there, she could observe without difficulty how much they really did care about her wellbeing while she was out.

Finally, after a few attempts, she found her voice. "Glad to be back," she said, just above a whisper, trying to say as little as possible.

"Home…?" was her next question, and the fact that it sounded just like her brought a collection of smiles onto the dysfunctional family's faces.

"Not soon enough," Tony informed her wistfully.

Abby took in his answer for a moment, searching his face, remembering every curve and every contour in case anything like this ever happened again, and there was no cord to hold on to. Inwardly she shuddered at the thought of falling into the trap, and outwardly she tried to sit up in order to allow the discomfort to pass.

When she found that she lacked the strength to complete the action independently, both Gibbs and Tony gently leaned forward and helped prop her up on the pillows. McGee fumbled with the small remote control that controlled her bed and slowly pressed the up button, and with it, the bed rose with a quiet buzzing noise until she was in a sitting position.

"I feel better," Abby suddenly announced in her voice that was just above a whisper.

They were all just so glad, Abby included. Happiness filled them like a golden potion, bubbling and spilling over into a puddle that they all shared with Abby. She needed those golden drops of their joy at her awakening and her improved, and improving, condition.

"You should find yourself at home again soon, Abigail," Ducky informed her gently.

At the word "home," all she could think of was her lab, filled with Bert and Caf-Pows and the beeping of her machines that lulled her into a sense of shelter and familiarity. These were the small aspects that she had a feeling she would never take for granted.

Something also told her, thinking about every little thing in her lab in a great sweep of her mind, that this ordeal wasn't over yet. In fact, that gut feeling was very, very much correct. Sickeningly, she knew that, all too well.

Yay, felt like updating and I did! I have plots for the next 2 chapters, and at the moment, I can't possibly guess how many chapters I'm planning for here. Anyway, R&R—Reviews inspire me!