Branley didn't seem put off at all by sitting in the one-sided mirror of the interrogation room, or by the knowledge that every move he made, every word he said was being recorded. He sat at the table, smiling, as Gibbs took his seat opposite him, ignoring the hand the drug-dealer-come-arms-smuggler offered.
"You know why you're here?" Gibbs asked gruffly, barely acknowledging Allison as she sat uncomfortably at Branley's side.
"Agents David and DiNozzo explained the situation to me," Josef Branley answered calmly. He clasped his hands on the table in front of him, showing off the expensive gold wrist watch he wore as he did. "I can't tell you how sorry I was to hear of the murders of two of your people, Agent Gibbs. As I told your agents, I'm willing to assist you in whatever way I can."
"Lieutenant Ronson and Gunnery Sergeant Jenkins testified against you." As he spoke, Gibbs pulled photographs of the dead men from the folder in front of him, sliding them across the table to rest in front of Branley. "You recognise them?"
His gaze barely dropping to the photographs on the table, Branley shook his head. "As I told your agents," he repeated, "I meet a lot of people in my line of work. I'm afraid I can't recall meeting either the Lieutenant or the Gunnery Sergeant."
"What exactly is your line of business? Smuggling drugs into the country and pushing them on your customers even when they can't afford them? Get them hooked and have them killed when they can't pay the bill?" Gibbs held Branley's gaze evenly. "Doesn't sound like you'd get a lot of repeat business that way."
"Agent Gibbs," Allison cut in before Branley could respond, much to Gibbs' disappointment. "Mr. Branley was cleared of all charges relating to those offences. If that's what you brought us here to discuss, we're going to have to cut this short."
He couldn't keep himself from giving her a slight glare, before turning his attention back to Branley, who wasn't looking quite as smug. "Both Jenkins and Ronson testified that they were former customers of your client, Ms. Hart."
"Mr. Branley has stated he has no recollection of meeting either of them," Allison answered softly. Her voice was calm but there was a flash of something in her eyes when Branley reached out and touched her hand to silence her that made Gibbs wonder.
"It's alright, Allison, I can speak for myself." Branley smiled at her warmly before turning his attention back to Gibbs. "I run a successful company exporting and importing various goods, Agent Gibbs. To my knowledge, all of my shipments are legal but occasionally, I'm sure the odd illegal item makes it through customs. Surely you can't hold me personally culpable for that, or for what those who are responsible do with those items?"
Gibbs merely stared at him, fixing Branley with the cold blue stare that had broken many a suspect. Branley, for his part, shifted uneasily in his seat, a bead of sweat forming at his brow before he patted it away with a monogrammed handkerchief he pulled from his jacket pocket.
"You must have had some reaction when Ronson and Jenkins agreed to testify against you," Gibbs said eventually, arching an eyebrow when Branley stayed quiet. "Whether you recognise them or not, it must have really pissed you off to have them speak out against you."
"It concerned and saddened me that two young men I know nothing about would try to destroy my reputation," Branley answered eventually. His hands, Gibbs noted, were no longer clasped lightly on the table in front of him but were so tightly clenched his knuckles had turned white. "I did wonder if they'd been offered something in return to testify, by either yourselves or one of my competitors."
"You think someone bribed or blackmailed them into appearing in court?" Gibbs waited a beat. "That's a bit of a stretch, Mr. Branley, especially against someone like you. You mentioned your reputation. Would that be the reputation you have of making sure anyone who speaks out against you lives just long enough to regret it?"
"Agent Gibbs." Allison's tone was sharp but her eyes were wide, almost warning him of pushing her client too hard. "You are deliberately baiting my client, who agreed to cooperate in NCIS's investigation. Mr. Branley, we're leaving. This interview is over."
The smug look was back on Branley's face but it was a little more forced. Some of the self-confidence was gone, Gibbs thought, which meant the man was shaken though he was trying to hide it.
"NCIS thanks you for your cooperation," Gibbs intoned. He stayed sitting as Branley and Allison got to their feet.
Branley preceded his lawyer to the door, pausing as he reached out for the handle. He glanced over his shoulder, a sly grin playing around his lips. "Your forensic scientist also testified against me, if I recall. Please give her my regards when you next see her, Agent Gibbs."
He was on his feet in an instant, his hands clenched at his sides. Allison moved quickly, putting herself between Gibbs and her client, warning the former off with a look as she ushered the latter out of the room.
Clenching his jaw, Gibbs fought the urge to go after them. His back to the one-way mirror, he lashed out, kicking the wall, anger and frustration making him oblivious to the pain as his foot came into contact with the concrete.
By the end of her first week away from NCIS, Abby was more than ready to go home again.
She missed her lab and her work and couldn't help but wonder who they'd brought in to cover for her – and couldn't help but worry that maybe the Director would decide a permanent replacement was needed.
She missed her friends and colleagues. She missed Tony's sense of humour and the ability he had to always make her smile. She missed Ziva's confusion – and often frustration – at something her teammates had said or done. She missed McGee talking animatedly about the latest game he was playing and she missed drinking tea with Ducky as he recounted a story from his youth.
She missed Gibbs. She missed the sense of anticipation she felt after one of her machines beeped, knowing he'd appear in her lab in a matter of minutes. She missed going home at the end of the day knowing he'd be there, missed working with him in the basement or curling up beside him on the couch before they retired for the night. She missed falling asleep with his arm a comforting weight around her middle and waking up the same way.
Having sold her apartment and practically moved in with Gibbs though neither had acknowledged it or made it official, Abby had decided to stay in a motel rather than find somewhere new to rent. She hoped her assignment at the NSA would be over sooner rather than later and saw renting an apartment for the duration as a waste of time and money.
Lying on the uncomfortable bed, listening to her amorous neighbours through the paper-thin walls of the motel, though, she wondered how long she'd be able to put up with her new living conditions without taking the gun from the bedside table and threatening to shoot them if they shut up. Not only was she tired and struggling to sleep without listening to their seemingly never-ending soundtrack, knowing what they were up to only a few feet away only reminded her of what she was missing out on by being there in the first place.
As the night wore on, she gave up on trying to get to sleep even as her neighbours finally fell silent. She got out of bed and padded barefoot to the desk where she'd left her notes, curling up in the lone chair in the room to read them through for the countless time, hoping an idea would form, hoping to find a way back home.
Director Vance's secretary, Pamela Cook, was waiting in the squad room when Gibbs and his agents arrived back from processing a scene of an unrelated case, twisting her hands in front of her as she paced anxiously.
"Hey, Pamela, what brings you down here?" Tony greeted her with a smile and a wink, setting his pack down on his desk.
Pamela managed a small smile, her gaze flitting nervously between them all. "Director Vance would like to see you in MTAC. All of you," she clarified when Gibbs arched an eyebrow. "It's... It's got something to do with Abby," she added quietly to avoid being overheard. "I'm to take you up straight away. He said everything else can wait."
No one was going to argue with her. Gibbs started up without waiting for anyone else, taking the stairs two at a time. Pamela followed quickly, with Tony, Ziva and McGee on her heels. The four agents plus the Director's secretary hurried into MTAC to find the Director in conversation with none other than Abby herself.
The conversation stopped when she realised they were there and a smile momentary lit up her face. Gibbs stopped in front of the screen, studying her intently. It was the longest he'd gone without seeing her since their relationship had evolved and he found himself memorising her once more, noting with concern the pallor of her face and the shadows under her eyes.
Abby's gaze drifted over all of them in turn, drinking in the sight of them eagerly before it settled back on Gibbs. He looked tired, she decided, but she thought he was doing a better job of hiding it than she was.
"Ms. Sciuto was just briefing me on the situation," Director Vance stated after the silence stretched on. "You said you had some information you wanted to share, Abby...?"
"I do." Abby looked away, biting down on her bottom lip as she tapped at the keys of her laptop. In a matter of seconds, two things happened simultaneously: one of the tech's in MTAC announced they were receiving a file from her computer and a small digital countdown appeared in the corner of the screen below her. "I'm sending you everything else the NSA has on Branley and his known associates, including details of the last weapons drop. If nothing else, you should be able to use the data in the files to track the shipment of weapons and confiscate them before they can be used."
"What's with the countdown?" Gibbs asked, frowning as the seconds continued to count down.
"It's how long I can maintain the data stream without being detected on this end." She shrugged and glanced at the display, seemingly unfazed that only a few minutes remained. "My access to the network is probably being monitored by the NSA agents Branley has on his payroll. I know my being here is making a lot of people nervous."
"Terminate the link," Gibbs ordered, not sure if he was speaking to Abby or the MTAC technicians. "You said you wouldn't make yourself a target again."
"So did you," Abby countered, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "But you insisted on bringing Branley in for questioning, making you not only a target for him but for Agent Stone as well. You'll probably have to handle that one, Director. I know he's been to his superiors to make a complaint."
Director Vance sighed and glanced at his senior agent. "That really doesn't surprise me."
Gibbs glanced at the technicians busily downloading the data Abby was sending them. "Get what you information you can and terminate the link."
The two technicians glanced at each other, then at Director Vance. When they received a subtle nod from their boss, they tried to severe the connection between the computers. "Ah, Sirs? We can't terminate the link from this end."
"I could've told you that," Abby said quietly, shrugging when all eyes returned to her. "I'll terminate the link when you have all the information. I need to be sure it's in safe hands, that something will be done to stop Branley even if... even if I'm not around to do it."
"Abby..." Gibbs glanced over his shoulder at his waiting agents, at the Director and his secretary and the MTAC technicians. He looked back at the screen as she fidgeted nervously, her fingers tangling in the chain around her neck as her hand closed around the dog tags. "You don't have to do this. We'll find another way."
"Another way will take too long. More people will end up dead. I'm probably already on his hit list and so are you. You pissed off more than just the NSA with your stunt the other day, Gibbs. It's only a matter of time before Branley decides NCIS is a threat he can't ignore, you said that yourself." The minutes and seconds continued to count down. "I can't promise I'll be coming back after this. I'll try but I think we're all aware the chances of that are going to be slim."
"Terminate the link and come back now." Gibbs wasn't sure how he kept his voice calm. "We can work through the information you have..."
"It's too late for that." She looked past him to the others, her smile sad. "So I'm going to spend the next... minute and thirty-two seconds being a little emotional and probably over dramatic if this all does work out. I love you guys. I know I've told you that before but I need to say it now. Working at NCIS, meeting all of you – and that includes Ducky and Jimmy – has been the best experience anyone could ever have. I wrote letters, for you guys and my brother and my mom... They're in the bottom drawer of my desk; Bert has the key for safekeeping. I can tell you that now because... Well, I just can."
"Abs..." Tony took a step forward, his jaw tense. "Please. Do what Gibbs said and terminate the link. We can meet you halfway, keep you safe..."
"I'd be no safer at NCIS than I am here, not with the leaks still out there." She looked to Director Vance, her eyes shining. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you find your mole, Director. Maybe you'll find something I missed in the information I'm sending you, something that'll help you find them."
"Ms. Sciuto." Director Vance narrowed his eyes as mere seconds remained on the clock. "If you can get back to NCIS, I guarantee we'll provide around the clock protection."
"I know you would." Her smile was soft, her eyes bright. "As soon as the transfer's finished, I'll head over there. If I don't make it..." She let her voice trail off and shrugged a shoulder, her expression telling them she was sure that would be the case. Abby dropped her gaze to the countdown, letting her hand fall from the necklace she wore to rest on the table out of sight of the camera. "Time's up. Good luck."
She terminated the connection before anyone could repeat the sentiment back to her.
Gibbs' last memory of her was of bright green eyes, a sad smile curving up her lips and the white gold dog tags he'd bought her resting against her pale skin, a wistful determination on her face as she went to meet her fate alone.