Abby gasped in horror as Gibbs sneered at her from behind a gun. "Get out of here, Abigail. You know too much."
"But, Gibbs… it's me. Abbs. Don't you love me?"
Gibbs snorted derisively, "I've never loved you." He turned quickly and stalked away, into a car with the other suspects.
Abby jerked awake and shoved the covers off of her sweat-soaked body. It was the second time that night she'd been woken up by dreams of Gibbs. The alarm clock glowed 4:30, so with a sigh, Abby sat up and draped her legs over the side of the bed, pausing rub her eyes. With a light grunt, Abby realized she'd forgotten to remove her eye makeup again the night before, and her hand came back streaked with eyeliner and mascara. At least waking up early meant extra time for a long shower.
~*~*~NCIS~*~*~NCIS~*~*~
Gibbs woke early, still jetlagged from having just returned from Afghanistan. Since first being brought into the ring, he'd moved up rapidly – skipping some of the typical ranks because of his knowledge of investigative techniques and procedures that would help lessen the risk of being caught. Gibbs was sure he had been working directly with the right hand man, Rich Harris, now using an elaborate disguise and doctored passport to travel back and forth from the middle east to oversee the various steps of the smuggling operation. The drugs had been smuggled via returning Marines at first, which had caught the attention of NCIS after an anonymous tip, though they'd been lacking solid evidence for months. In the last three or four months, much of the smuggling had ended through the military. Now a company that had been created to help Afghani women sell handmade products had been overtaken and was being used as a cover for smuggling heroin, the women now subjected to the control of the drug lords.
Having been in Afghanistan twice in the last three weeks, Gibbs felt he was getting close to meeting the drug lord, who was rumored to reside mostly in Afghanistan now, though a U.S. citizen. He'd heard some about him from Harris, who was often on his phone, only responding with short 'yeses' or 'noes' always followed by "boss." It made him miss his team more each time he heard it. Gibbs had realized how much he even missed Tony's bad jokes and movie quotes, Ducky's long, drawn-out stories, and McGee's techno babble that inevitably had to be translated. He could practically see Palmer cowering in front of him underneath one of his infamous stares, and could hear Ziva messing up an American saying, only to retort back at Tony when he would correct her.
But it was in his dreams that he saw Abby. His Girl. Dancing behind her desk to music that seemed to him to lack a beat worth dancing to. Slurping Caf-Pow! up through a straw as if a soldier coming out of the desert seeking water. Making him feel like a wanted man by slipping flirty comments into her briefings on evidence.
Gibbs climbed from the bed, stretching his muscles. Despite being used to sleeping on his couch, the mattress was beginning to take its toll, mixed with the stress of trying to ignore articles he glimpsed on newsstands about his disappearance and what the world thought he'd done by abandoning his job. He rarely worried what others thought about him, but this time his thoughts often drifted to Abby. She would have taken it harder than anyone – to think that he was running with smugglers, that he had destroyed evidence and taken money from heroin dealers. She thought so highly of him – and now that would be destroyed.
With a long sigh, Gibbs pulled on some jeans and one of his cleaner shirts, trying to think of how hard he needed to work to get back to her and prove that she still could have faith in him.
~*~*~NCIS~*~*~NCIS~*~*~
Abby searched the pictures once more, working through her lunch to get it done in between analyzing evidence for other cases. This had to have been the hundredth time she'd look at the pictures, trying to see if there was anything at all that she'd missed.
A large magnifying glass was positioned over the photo as she pulled it slowly across the background, looking for any clue that would help. Sipping a Caf-Pow! that would probably be her entire lunch, Abby studied the photo. She paused suddenly and squinted. At the end of the block she could just make out a sign in a store where the road forked. That sign seemed so familiar.
Abby sat back, scanning through her memory. It was something that had always been there.
"The diner!" Abby shot off the chair, holding the magnifying glass back over the sign to confirm it. It was a generic ad, that included an announcement that kids eat free on Tuesdays and Thursdays and that their chili was the best in the tri-county area. Of course she recognized that sign. Just two doors down was one of her favorite clubs, located just ten minutes from her apartment. Gibbs was entering a building several feet from the diner.
Abby glanced at her watch. She still had forty five minutes left before her lunch was technically supposed to end. She could definitely make it there and back in time…
With a flourish, Abby left the magnifying glass on top of the photo where it sat skewed on the counter, grabbed her keys and fled her lab.
~*~*~NCIS~*~*NCIS~*~*
Gibbs was just returning to the makeshift apartment from a brief meeting with Holcomb. They had confirmed how close he was to getting to the head of the ring. He still had a day to kill before his next trip to Afghanistan, which he hoped would end this case with a first and final meeting with the mysterious man.
He had stopped off at a local diner and picked up dinner, trudging through the graffitied neighborhood. Squinting from the bright setting sun, Gibbs suddenly halted. He knew that car anywhere. Abby. As he strode into the shadows and out of the blinding light, Gibbs saw into the hot rod and discovered that it was empty.
His heart skipped, knocking the breath from him momentarily. Quickening his pace, he almost flew into the building, almost running in to the other contact, Hendricks, who often stayed there while not in flight between DC and Afghanistan.
"Gibbs, we have a problem."
"What sort?" Gibbs schooled a neutral expression, hoping he hadn't already seen the flash of panic on his face as he'd crashed through the doors.
"The NCIS forensic scientist found you. I don't know why she came instead of sending agents. But I got her."
"Got her?"
Hendricks nodded towards his door. "I'm moving her after dark."
"Where?"
"Main base. It'll be easier to watch her with more people there. I leave right after."
Gibbs felt sick suddenly. He tried to act as if he was worried about potential evidence against them. "Does she know anything?"
"Couldn't tell. I figured it was best to wait until we could get her to a better interrogation area to find out what she knows."
Gibbs swallowed the bile that was rising in his throat. "Good thinking."
With a growing smirk, Hendricks raised an eyebrow, and lowered his voice as if he could be heard by someone important. "Ya know, we've got a few hours. We could take turns. I'm sure when you were still there you hit that all the time. Why not go again?"
His fist tightened around the bag of takeout before he forced himself to hold back. "We need her conscious for the interrogation. Too much now might take it out of her."
"Aw, just once each. Can't hurt."
Gibbs narrowed his eyes at the man, "Yeah, okay. Just…I'll go first. Then she should eat." He held up the bag of food. "She'll need some strength after all."
Hendricks chuckled maniacally. "Sounds good. I'll go out for a bite and then come back in a couple."
Gibbs thought he was in the clear for a moment, before Hendricks turned around. "Oh, Carter's still in the apartment. Dropped by earlier. If you can keep her quiet, we don't need to give him a turn." With another laugh he headed for the building's main door.
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