NCIS and all of its wonderful characters – no they don't belong to me. Sigh, they never will. Some of them do belong to each other, though, don't you agree?
Wake Up and Smell the Coffee (sequel to Sawdust and Gunpowder) – Boundaries get crossed and bridges get burned. Will Abby and Gibbs ever get on the same page?
Rating – M. Not for kiddos. Really.
FWandFS (Fair Winds and Following Seas): Second Fanfic in this Fandom. Have written others as FeliciaMaplewood for Scarecrow and Mrs. King…Yes, I am dating myself by admitting that.
Sorry for the delay folks – lost internet access for the past several days.
Moments of fangirl freakout - I was at the airport parking garage today and saw a DODGE CHALLENGER R&T (red, not yellow and black) but mint! I started hyperventilating much to the amazement of my 80+ year old father (since I've never been particularly into muscle cars). My father has begun to fear for my sanity….. but I know you all will understand!
Chapter 9: Windmills of the Mind
Crack! The stinging pain was almost a welcome sensation as Abby felt her head snap to the side. At the second blow, she could taste the copper taint of blood as the corner of her lip split. But it grounded her. It felt real, unlike the haze that clouded her mind. It felt a little like laughing gas, or at least what she thought laughing gas would feel like. She had never had a cavity or a filling, after all.
"Tell me about Campanula," a gravelly voice ordered.
"Wha…?"
"Gibson Campanula," the disembodied voice demanded again.
Abby cracked her eyes open, closing them in protest at the gritty feeling behind her eyelids coupled with the glaring light. "Gibbs?" she asked.
"Yeah, Gibbs."
"He's gonna be so pissed," Abby murmured.
"Whatever...tell me about Gibbs."
Abby roused from her stupor...definitely something hinky going on here. "Not gonna tell you anything about Gibbs!"
"Ask her something specific. She needs to answer specific questions," that voice was more refined but nervous.
Abby resisted grabbing hold of any chain of thought she could to anchor and distract herself. "Antimony, arsenic, beryllium, nitrogen, palladium, tellurium, thallium," she chanted in a low voice.
"What the fuck is she talking about, Nick?"
"I didn't catch it, but I heard her talk about arsenic and thallium. They're poisons."
"You're boyfriend, he poisoned people?"
"Of course not!". She had dated some pretty quirky guys, but none of them had poisoned anyone. Stalking, yeah-but no poison. She lost track of her elements...how about Pi? 3.14159...
"Did Gibbs kill anyone?" Nick asked. He was the one with the smooth voice.
"Well, yeah! He shoots them." Abby responded. Stupid question. "But only when it's his job. He's not a bad guy or anything…well, usually when it's his job." Abby pressed her lips together firmly trying to shut that train of thought down tightly.
"Was he paid for it?"
"Paid for what?" She really wished they would leave her alone and let her sleep. Her cheek was throbbing now and she felt cranky.
"Paid for shooting people!" It was gravel voice again.
"Duh! I told you, it's a job. It's not like he does it for fun...I mean I know there's plenty of guys he'd like to shoot. 'specially at the FBI, but he doesn't have to. You know - he's just yanking their chain..." Oops they had her talking again. Prime numbers...recite primes... 2 3 5 7 11 13 17 19 23 29 31 37 …
"Has he ever killed a Federal Agent?" smooth voice asked calmly.
"Well, one that I know of. He had to - it was on a crowded bus. He still feels bad about it...I mean not like he talks about it, cause never talks 'bout that stuff. But I know."
"How long have you known 'Gibbs'?"
That must be Nick again, he was the one with the soothing voice. She didn't mind him so much. "10 years." A decade, she thought, she hadn't really noticed any other man for more than a passing fling in a whole decade.
Ostenpenchevko was surprised they had looked like a new couple - still eager to burn the sheets. He fired out the next question, "What's his next job?"
Abby frowned and stuck out her chin, "I can't tell you that!" She was indignant. "Gibbs has rules!" She couldn't remember which one, it was in the 30's.
Her head whipped back as Ostenpenchevko hit her again. Nick winced. Senseless violence didn't get questions answered, but Paulie who was standing on the sidelines smiled. Stupid bitch probably gave him rabies when she bit him, he rubbed his arm furtively.
Gibbs is so going to make you pay for that, Abby thought truculently. She mentally shut down, ignoring the men, their voices and the biting pain in her wrists tied behind her against the steel chair. Abby descended step by step onto a staircase deep within her mind, not unlike the rough wood stairs in Gibbs' basement. She could smell the sawdust as the particles danced in the dim streams of light afforded by the small windows that faced his garden. In her mind, she saw the inverted frame and partially planked boat he had last worked on. She would take shelter under there until he returned to her. She snagged his red sweatshirt off a sawhorse and rolled it up in a ball to make a pillow. It wasn't Bert, but it smelled like Gibbs which more than compensated.
Lost in the windmills of her mind, she missed the argument that Mikhail's actions had caused.
"We've lost the optimum window to get her to talk." Nick argued. "I can't dose her again, it's too soon."
"I don't think you gave her enough - you couldn't shut up the others." Mikhail complained.
"That's the point," Nick had schooled himself in patience. He needed it working with these Neanderthals. "They wanted to talk. They were so pissed off at their Ex-es, they had no loyalty to them."
Mikhail Ostenpenchevko had muscled his way up the ladder in the Baltimore area crime rings through information he used to take out his opponents. Trusting that hell truly had no fury like a woman scorned, he waited until the other crime bosses tired of their arm candy and evicted them from the estate. The girls knew and trusted him from their time on the estate, and with only a dose of sodium pentathol, they had pretty much sung like canaries. Pillow talk had yielded more info than most would have guessed. Nick was a genius at getting them to talk, and if he thought that final dose of Rohypnol was sufficient to make them forget, he didn't need to know that Mikhail had opted for a more permanent solution. Nick was squeamish that way, but Paulie wasn't. Paulie could be counted on to hide the bodies. And then there had been that sailor sniffing around. It had taken two of them to silence him.
This Goth chick was the second navy connection. Campanula had some sweet connection there - Government contacts - the guy had balls. That was a big time scam and he wasn't even a local. That sailor must have been working for him too. He should have squeezed him harder, but Paulie had spooked and Mikhail killed him too soon. Good info wasted.
Campanula had loyal followers - neither one had been easy to crack. Paulie had followed this Abby chick for a week almost and swore it looked like a breakup from the moment Campanula had dropped her off. She shouldha been ripe for the picking. No dice.
"Hey - look, I don't care how you get it, but you get her to spill." If new blood coming into town thought he could squeeze out Mikhail Ostenpenchevko, he had another thing coming. But on truth serum this one had already confirmed that this guy was a killer for hire. He had killed an FBI agent, for fuck's sake. She had info he could use to take Campanula down. One way or another he was going to get it.
Nick nodded reluctantly before injecting the pale and striking girl with another half dose. It had its dangers, but this dose should shatter her remaining inhibitions.
He stroked her hair as he saw the rapid eye movement begin under her lids. This one was so different from the others - not painted and plastic, but sweetly beautiful with a dusting of danger. At least she wouldn't remember it. He always made sure they were dosed with Rohypnol. A lost weekend would be a lot better than recalling Mikhail's version of interrogation.
Disoriented, Abby tilted her head toward the gentle caress. "Gibbs?" She called out plaintively.
"Gibbs left you, remember?" Nick murmured. He needed her to trust him.
It was 'Smooth voice', the one they called Nick. Abby opened her eyes groggily and almost retched at the nausea that swamped her. Why couldn't they just leave her alone?
She shook her head, Gibbs might have pulled away -but he would never leave her. He would never hurt her like this.
Nick recognized her refusal and tried a new tact. "What do you want me to tell him, Abby?"
She shook her head again in agitation. "Can't tell him. 's 'gainst the rules. Rule 12. And Rule #4. And Rule #7." **
"What do the numbers mean, sweetheart?" Nick asked soothingly.
Stupid question. She thought groggily. If he didn't know the numbers, he didn't know Gibbs. She shook her head violently. She couldn't talk anymore. Tears welled up in her eyes as she realized she might never see Gibbs again. She might never get to tell him.
"I'll tell him, Abby…What is it Gibbs needs to know?" Nick prodded again. He could tell she was on the cusp of giving up deeply secreted information, he knew the signs.
She forced herself to open her eyes and met his gaze with clear and righteous anger. "I'll tell him myself. 'Cause Gibbs is gonna come here and rain hell down on you - and nobody, not archangels and all the company of heaven is gonna stand in his way."
Nick reared back in surprise at the focused intensity of those green eyes. That was not what he expected. But he also knew it was the truth as she saw it. She wasn't capable of lying to him in her chemically induced state. He felt a shiver of alarm that not even Mikhail could raise in him at the calm certainty in the middle of her furious gaze.
She closed her eyes again and sagged against her bonds. She just had to wait. Gibbs would find her and save her. He might not want her, but he loved her like family. She knew it. And the unstated, understood rule was that you did what you had to for family.
Her thoughts converged and spliced, becoming more discordant and unrelated. Her connections were becoming illogical and alarming, even to her. She tried vainly to find that safe staircase, the one back into Gibbs' basement, but her whirling thoughts clouded the entrance. Abby whimpered at her isolation as the images in her mind spiraled out of her control. Would Gibbs never come?
**Rule 4: The best way to keep a secret? Keep it to yourself. Second best? Tell one other person - if you must. There is no third best.
Rule 7: Always be specific when you lie.
Rule 12: Never date a co-worker.
TBC (soon, I promise).