Chapter Eight
Death
Ten minutes later the third floor is silent, not just in Gibbs' enclave; the entire Operations Division is hushed. McGee and David sit at their desks on either side. No one wants to speak. He doubts his partners are seeing anything in the present.
Daylight streams in through the huge skylight, but Gibbs remembers that night years ago. The storm was violent, the tumultuous rain and the lightning blasted the huge room on the night Kate Todd didn't return. He did, McGee did, Tony did.
Kate didn't.
There should be a storm.
"Gibbs?"
He looks to his right, to the woman seated at the desk close to his own, where Kate had sat. Having Kate's twin running Autopsy doesn't help.
He tries not to see the desk across the bullpen, empty and still.
It's hard to answer. The words are there, but they must be forced out. "What?"
A moment of silence. She shakes her head.
Whatever it was isn't important.
Nothing is important.
Then her phone rings. It might be business, it might be a fellow Agent offering condolences. Three, five, nine rings, she has to pick up the receiver. She listens.
x
She reaches for the speaker button. "Abby."
The men cross the bullpen. No one moves very fast. There's no need to cross at all; they can hear every word. But it is times like this that demand closeness.
/I'm on 267 outside Wolf Trap, doing 92 and the LEOs had better stay out of my way!/ Abby announces in determined tones over the roar of her engine, 92 on a road rated for 50. They can hear strained tires as she weaves between slower moving cars, challenging for every extra inch. /I'll be there in 20 minutes, but I can't reach Ruby either in the lab or on her cell. Where the Hell is she?/
"Abby–"
/What's the update from MedStar? How's Tony? Do you have the latest blood work?/
"Abby–"
/I need the blood saturation figures and everything Major Mass Spec and Captain Gas Chromatascope have./
"Abby–"
/We need every bit of data MedStar has. Are the blood saturation figures down? What's the latest-?/
"Abby, Tony is dead."
/WHAT?/
Screech of tires drowned out by a discordant pair of shrieks.
A crash!
Higher shrieks and more crashes, more and more and more but no more screams.
"ABBY!"
No one needs images to see the speeding car roll, crash upon crash upon crash and no screams at all.
"ABBY! ABBY!" Ziva screams impotently at the phone, barely aware of Gibbs and McGee before her shouting as loudly. "ABBYYYYY!"
There's no answer.
There's no sound.
Nothing.
Nothing.
x
Ziva looks up, her chest heaving, her soul torn by the horror in Gibbs' and McGee's eyes.
"McGee, get a location!" Gibbs' voice reverberates through Operations. Beyond it the room full of Agents is utterly silent. "Get someone out there!"
"She is on 267 by Wolf Trap," she reminds them.
"Ziva, get Highway Patrol!" He yanks out his cell phone, presses the 9 hard.
None of them will say it.
92 miles per hour.
Loss of control.
A rolling, bouncing crash...
xxx
The helicopter is the only way to reach the site, but they see the devastation from far off, long before details can be made out. Eastbound, the road toward DC is barren; westbound it's backed up for miles as the four person copter shoots along the highway. They'd gotten the exact location from emergency broadcasts by Rescue vehicles.
They hadn't needed it.
Even with Crash Priority it took too many agonizing minutes to procure a helicopter – none were available at the Navy Yard and every minute's delay tore at their souls.
As they approach the crowded scene, barren on their left up to the spot filled with cars on their right, it's obvious from the lack of urgent activity that the Rescue vehicles aren't needed either.
The helicopter blows smoke away from the shattered wreck and lands on the barren highway thirty feet away, too close by far to deny the truth.
The car - none of the grieving agents can guess what kind it had been - is a crumpled mass of smashed, smoking steel.
It had burned to a blackened husk, but even this is out while they'd fought, demanding access to a helicopter that was miles away.
The uniformed men who stand between them and the washed out wrecked hulk do not need to say anything. Their faces say the words.
x
Gibbs fights hard to contain the grief that rips him, crushes his heart and tightens his breath until he can't draw another. If he does he'll shatter and weep the tears that burn his eyes. He doesn't glance at McGee or David, for to see the grief that batters them will destroy his control.
This leaves him no place to look but through the mangled space that had once framed the wind shield, now only recognizable as such for its position in the twisted, smoldering wreckage. Through the distorted portal the black, burnt out husks that had once been two women's heads and upper bodies tear his heart. The restraints that had held the women upright in the rolling crash had done nothing to save them.
There are three men between him and the still lightly smoking hulk, but he can't bring himself to see them. They stand waiting. He can't say anything.
He can't rip his eyes from the black body to his right. He can't see her face for the charring but he knows the shape of that almost hairless, blackened/reddened skull too well.
He's kissed it too many times.
x
Tony has been dead for over an hour, barely more than half an hour before Abby called on her mission to save him. Called... and died.
The woman with her, another mercy mission; what was her name? He doesn't remember. He met her a year ago. She obviously came to help or whatever. He knew her name but it won't come.
The only names that fill his brain to bursting are 'Tony' and 'Abby'.
He glances back to his team, such as are left. McGee's on his phone and his expression is enough. That woman will be busy, so will her Methodist partner. Best they get on the job.
Ziva is shut down, her face a mask but he knows this one so well. She only puts it on for devastation or worse.
There's nothing for them to do, nothing to investigate, no pictures to take yet. He doesn't want any but they'll have to come.
Later.
x
He looks again into the crushed interior, at the black bodies, as though anything could make it not be true. Abby's black leather is fused to her throat and wrists and the silver spikes that radiate from them are charred too. These are her warrior set, at least so they always say to him. She puts them on, if not at the start of her day, then when she's determined to solve a puzzle and everyone had best get out of her way.
The body beside her - Dawn Caldwell, that's the name - is smaller; once fair and blonde, now black/red and almost hairless. Her mouth is open in an eternal silent shriek, her right arm bent outward midway between elbow and wrist and her head rests at a too unnatural angle.
She was a kindergarten teacher. They'd met last year at some lake, the name won't come to him. Abby had gone to Louisiana last week to help her recover from the trauma of that occasion.
She was coming up to return the favor.
x
"Gibbs?" It's Ziva's voice. He nods, doesn't look back, doesn't want to speak. He won't look away from Abby. "I have been unable to reach Michelle, either through her numbers or through Jimmy."
He turns his head, stares until she wisely walks away. The woman had better be working at her desk when they return or else never try to approach it again.
Behind them the highway is empty, and in time NCIS and other vehicles will follow. Shepherd is already on her way. Other trucks will come, but they can do nothing for Abby.
In the other direction, far off traffic is being routed off the nearest exit. The blocked cars are being laboriously backed out and he doesn't care.
x
Tony is dead. He died from that poison without ever awakening again.
Abby, in trying to save him, is dead. She died in horror and agony.
And for an act of kindness, another innocent woman is dead.
Gibbs, unseen by his team, clenches his fists, and as thousands of memories of his friends assail him.
His soul screams in savage fury. Rage he hasn't felt since Shannon and Kelly were burned to death inflames him. His silent scream shakes Heaven and smashes open the gates of Hell.
Those women will pay!
xxx
When Michelle gets home the first things she does are take the phone receiver off its cradle and disconnect the wire to silence the inevitable signal. She doesn't want to talk to anyone, doesn't want to be bothered by anyone.
She's so very tired but far too upset to sleep. 'How could Special Agent Higgins accuse me of something so horrible? How could he say I'd hurt Tina?' This has filled her mind a thousand times, and still there's no good answer. 'It slipped, dammit, it slipped! It was not my fault!'
She'd tried to see Jimmy. He'd have understood. She can tell him everything - but he was working and she couldn't tell him anything.
She'd tried to reach Sp– to reach Gibbs, but his phone was off. Finally, depressed, she'd decided it was close enough to 1600. Tomorrow's another day and it has to be better than today.
Maybe in the morning there'll be more hopeful news about Spe– about Tony DiNozzo. 'Any news will be an improvement.'
x
Turning off the living room light, she walks into the bedroom, pulls her cell phone from her belt intending to check the charge, but when she presses the red button the screen remains black.
'Off? When'd I turn it off? Gibbs hates it when cells... Know what? I don't care. If he yells at me, he can do it tomorrow. He's yelled at me enough for one day.'
That extra hard head slap last night had hurt for hours. 'Maybe I should go to HR, or maybe even the Director. Maybe then he'll keep his hands to himself!'
She goes to her bureau, empties her pockets. 'Whoa, what's this?'
It's a plastic protected scalpel she's pulled out of her brown vest pocket. 'How in the Goddess' name did this get here?'
There's only one place a scalpel could come from: Autopsy.
She remembers now. After her faux pas in Autopsy she'd put the tool in the sterilizer, she's certain of that. 'How in Hades could it wind up in my pocket?'
She transfers it to her purse. She'll get it back tomorrow, hopefully without either Jimmy or Maura discovering that she'd ever had it.
She lays down on the bed, too tired to sleep, too depressed to care about anything.
'How could Special Agent Higgins say that?'
xx
Jimmy Palmer opens his apartment door, still stunned by the deaths of his friends. He was with Dr. Isles when Abby's body - how appalling is that? - was brought in. He'd taken the call from Director Shepherd on the scene at just before 4:30, and he and Isles had prepared Autopsy to receive Abby.
It's almost too much to take in. He'd unzipped the body bag at 5:24 and the sight of Abby's face... he'd gripped the gurney tightly to keep from collapsing or running from the room but he couldn't hold back the tears.
Abby had been so wonderful, a friend - a dear friend - for so long. Always upbeat, always ready with a hug and a kind word, always ready to talk, to share her...
He will never hug Abby Sciuto again.
x
He'd tried to call 'Chelle, over and over, but he couldn't reach her. Her cell was off and home was busy. At least she was safe - after Tony and Abby he'd had a moment's scare but when he heard the busy signal...
She's ignoring the 'call waiting' signals, but at least she's safe. Probably calling China.
Doctor Isles decided to hold Abby's autopsy, not that one's needed, off until the morning. Her friend's body had gone on to Metro's morgue, but he'd had to slide Abby's charred, blackened body into the cooling chamber.
Abby hated closed in spaces, or was it just Autopsy because she had no trouble sleeping in her coffin? She used to have dreadful nightmares about Autopsy, had refused on many days to...
Doctor Isles probably knew why he left immediately, his final wrap-up undone, but he couldn't stand to stay one more second, not and hold off the grief that tore him.
x
"Honey?"
The living room is dark, but there's light around the bedroom door frame at the end of the short hallway beyond bathroom and closet. "Honey?"
He hesitates at the door, flashing back to last night, how she'd screamed at him for walking out into the living room while she was so distressed about Tony. Well, today's distress is far worse than yesterday's, and if she's doing anything Wiccan after her call, well, he'll deal with that if he must. He opens the door to the lighted room. "Hon–"
x
He feels his mouth fall open, his eyes feel like they widen larger than the lenses of his glasses, because he couldn't be more stunned. "-ney?"
She's standing beside their bed, smiling - itself half amazing - but what she's wearing...
It's her red Vampirella costume he'd bought for her so many months ago, its slim scarlet straps not quite covering her breasts but leaving her torso bare before meeting again at the suit's bottom in a stylized golden bat decorating her pubes. The high white stand-up collar is held to the red straps by a golden circlet and her black hair is framed by the stiff material.
This is one of his favorite fantasy images, never failing to arouse in seconds. That she's barefoot rather than wearing the calf-high black leather boots he so likes only makes her look nakeder. More naked? Who cares?
But the apartment and her cell phones are off. Obviously she can't know about Tony and Abby.
"Honey…?" He's utterly amazed, can barely find words.
x
"I've been waiting for you," she whispers, her seductive tone scorching the air between them.
"'Chelle?"
"Surprised?"
"Honey, that's a word and a half... but I think you'd better sit down."
"No. Lie down is what I have in mind."
She reaches past him, pushes the door closed, her body hot against his in just that brief touch.
The thin scarlet straps hide nothing, and pure lust shines in her eyes as she reaches to grasp him though his trousers.
She takes his right hand, lifts it to her breast
"Honey–"
"Quiet. Just take me. Take your savage vampire and plunge your stake in me!"
x
"Honey, haven't you heard that–?"
"Heard nothing. Don't want to hear anything."
"Honey, wait. I've got to tell you something."
She puts her hand across his mouth and assures him "It'll wait. Later. I've been dying for you to get back," she breathes hotly enough to melt his glasses. "I couldn't do it in Autopsy, but I wanted to apologize for snapping at you yesterday."
She comes up on her toes, he down into the kiss and her tongue asks entrance. He gives it, and they begin mutual licking and exploring.
Pressed close, her breasts against his chest, she shifts closer to him, grinds her hips into him while working her hand up and down through his pants. She uses her so-talented fingers, her other hand on his urging his gentle squeezing of her breast.
'Maybe she's right. Maybe I should tell her later. She's... she'll be relaxed and she'll be able to take it.'
x
He slips his hands under the thin scarlet straps, pushes them open and fondles her breasts more and more fervently as she stays up on her toes, her mouth scorching his. He gently caresses her, her hard nipples points upon his palms. He molds her breasts, teases her hardened nipples. He knows how ready she is for him by the firmness of the tiny nubs.
She wraps her left arm about his neck to support herself in her reach up his body, adds more fire to their kiss. Her right hand moves far more ardently along him.
"I need to suck your..." she whispers into his lips, and moans her pleasure at what his hands are doing to her. "Blood." Scorching breath burns his mouth.
He reaches down, both hands cup her bottom and she hops up. Her bare feet link behind his hips and their lips burn as he kneads her bare behind and carries her to the bed.
x
He lays her under him but she pushes him up, quickly rolls them both over and she's on top. She shifts to kneel at his side. The scarlet straps are far aside, her breasts available to hands but far out of reach of his mouth and she presses him onto his back, attacks his belt and zipper. He reaches for her breasts as she frees him. He lifts his hips and she shoves shirt and pants and tee shirt and briefs up and down out of her way, but she takes his hands from her breasts, presses them to the bed and straddles his thighs.
"No. I said I want to suck your..." she gives him a fiery smile, "...blood."
x
She lays down upon him, moves her body away down between his open legs, her own legs off the foot of the bed. He opens as widely as his lowered trousers will allow, accommodating her. She lays upon his trapped legs and cups her hands about his testicles. The sides of her hands press to his base, the backs protect her face from the fine hairs as she opens her mouth and takes him in.
He groans, head back on the pillow.
She bites hard!
x
Jimmy shrieks, convulses under her as she holds him down and clenches her teeth tighter! She grinds hard, tears at him, gnaws with front and side teeth.
Her teeth cut into him as he writhes on the bed, unable even to reach down. Her sharp teeth crush him, cut into his flesh!
He feels wetness flow over his pelvis, has a flash of her as he looks down. Blood flows from her mouth as he screams.
She pulls and tears, bites harder, his own convulsions helping her rip his flesh.
x
Jimmy's never imagined such agony. He can't think, can't do anything but scream over and over. Something in him snaps. He only knows it's him or her.
He clenches his right fist, forces himself to sit up and as she bites again he swings as hard as he can.
His fist crashes into the side of her head. Her teeth are ripped along him and he shrieks as she's knocked off the foot of the bed. He falls back, clutches himself with both hands, turns on his side, unable to stop screaming. He feels blood gush out, slip between his fingers, but the pain's so horrendous he can't even get a better grip. Warm blood fills his hands, slips through...
x
Michelle shakes her head, dazed, surprised to find herself on the bedroom floor. The left side of her head hurts horribly. There's a warm wet taste in her mouth, it tastes horrible - and someone's screaming above her.
She climbs quickly up from the floor and horror blasts her.
Jimmy's writhing on the bed, screaming and crying, clutching his crotch. His body's trying to curl and prevent itself from doing so and blood spreads over the white blanket and what's that strange taste in her mouth, like hot–?
She catches sight of herself in the mirror over the head of the bed. She's standing in it in her Vampirella costume she uses only for Jimmy's favorite fantasy. Blood covers her mouth, runs down her chin and neck and drips between her bared breasts!
"GODDESS!" she breathes, wipes the blood that smears along her face and hand and she doesn't have time for this - Jimmy's bleeding to death!
x
She dives for the phone on his side night table; buzz buzz buzz buzz under his screaming. How can it be–?
She unplugged it! She'd wanted quiet!
'The living room!'
She runs out, down the short corridor past the bathroom - she must pack towels onto him before he bleeds to death! She finds the phone!
She tries to shove the wire back in. Her hands are trembling so much it won't go in.
Jimmy's screams!
Buzz buzz buzz buzz. She slams the receiver down. Two seconds - an eternity! She picks it up, stabs the buttons, shaking so hard she misses a 1, hits 2 and has to start over.
Ring - ring - ring - ring under his screams.
"COME ON!"
/911 Operator, what is your emergency?/
"My husband's hurt! He's bleeding to death! Oh Goddess, I mean Code 10:33, Code 10:33! Federal Agent Down!"
/What is your location?/
"Address. Address! OH GODDESS, I CAN'T REMEMBER!"