Sorry this took so long - I've been sick with one of those upper respiratory things that have been going around. Scared the crap out of my co workers... they keep backing away from me every time I talked for some reason... *shrug*
Enjoy!
Abby trailed behind Ziva and McGee, both she and Ziva wearing traditional Afghani dresses with pants underneath and a hijab to cover their hair. Both had decided to blend in as much as possible to keep things running smoothly, and if anyone asked, Ziva was of Syrian descent, not Israeli. Abby glanced around tentatively as they were welcomed into the seemingly ordinary home. She had expected something elaborate – grandiose, even – but it was a relatively subdued building – two stories, but no larger than any average suburban home in the U.S.
The three waited impatiently to be seen by the man they were told was in charge of the overall operations. Silently, Abby thought over her plan once more as she took in her surroundings, trying to memorize the layout near the front door.
A Caucasian man dressed in a tailored black suit greeted the three of them, appearing from behind closed doors. He greeted Ziva and McGee with a handshake each, nodding politely to Abby.
Ziva spoke first, "A tribute on good faith." She nodded at Abby, who in turn bowed slightly as if offering herself to a cause. "You will find her… acquiescent."
He smiled at Abby, looking her up and down, her face cleaned of make-up, her dyed hair covered. Nodding at a man standing behind him, Abby was escorted away, down into a hallway and away from McGee and Ziva, who were both silently praying for her safe return.
~*~*~*~NCIS~*~*~NCIS~*~*~
The man that led Abby down the hall kept glancing at her and smiling to himself before depositing her in a roomy, nicely furnished bedroom. As expected, Abby heard the lock click behind him as the door locked. Quickly reaching under her dress, she pulled a wrapped package out, flinging it open to reveal a lock pick set, borrowed from Ziva. Placing an ear to the door, Abby paused, hearing a short echo of the man's footsteps in the distance on the polished, hardwood floor. Maneuvering the instruments into the lock, Abby dug carefully, remembering what Ziva had taught her rapidly before they'd left for the house. Growling at the lock with frustration, Abby tried to focus as she felt for a catch.
It was several more moments before the lock made a satisfying clicking noise. Abby stashed the equipment back in her pants pocket and eased the door open, peering out cautiously. Now all she had to do was find Gibbs. With a quick flourish, she vanished down the hall in the opposite direction from whence she'd come.
~*~*~NCIS~*~*~NCIS~*~*~
Gibbs groaned, coming to in a rush of pain, the fresh taste of blood in his mouth.
"Tell us what the U.S. government knows and your pain will end." His usual interrogator stood over him, a half-empty cup of water in his hand, ready to revive Gibbs again if necessary.
Gibbs coughed, his head hanging listlessly from exhaustion. They would kill him soon enough. He needed to try his plan now, and pray that it worked.
"I had a contact. Within the FBI." Gibbs' voice was hoarse and quiet.
"Who is this contact?"
Gibbs remained quiet, coughing again.
"Does anyone other than this contact know anything?"
Gibbs was struck again, a fresh gash opening on his chin.
Sputtering, Gibbs replied, "He had one other contact. We were the only ones."
The man considered Gibbs, "Very good. I will see about lunch for you. You must keep some strength until you are willing to tell us these contacts' names."
A short burst of light flooded the small cell as Gibbs' eyes fell shut, relieved of the little rest he would get. He knew lunch was a moot point, as it would be purged from his body once the torture began again that evening; once they began to harass him for the names of his made-up contacts. Eventually they would find out that he was making it up – but for now it kept him alive. For now it bided him some time.
He knew his team would come. He knew Abby would harass them until they rescued him. If only that nagging voice that said otherwise would just go away, then maybe his plan would give him some hope.
~*~*~NCIS~*~*~NCIS~*~*~
Abby had slipped down a flight of stairs into a basement, figuring it would be the best place to start. The hallway was dark and surprisingly cold as she slipped through, listening at doorways for signs of life.
A voice startled her, as she ducked into an open room that seemed to be little more than a dirty cell. Leaving the door ajar, she hid to the side, out of view.
"He said he has two contacts in the FBI. I figure I will give him more strength with food, so I can take it out of him again later."
"Excellent. Somal will be pleased with your progress." A second man responded, his voice growing further as the two walked past the room where Abby hid, her hands covering her mouth and nose to keep from being heard.
The conversation turned to lunch and a boxing match as Abby waited for them to go back up the stairs at the end of the hall. Once their voices had vanished entirely, she peered out again carefully and headed towards the end of the hall. Another door similar to the one she'd come from was closed, fresh blood staining the floor just outside the threshold. Abby tried the knob, only to find it locked, as she'd suspected.
It took her less time to pick the lock, as she smiled to herself at the skills she was quickly gaining. Her smile was wiped from her face when the door swung open, revealing a battered Agent Gibbs, who was semi-conscious and tied to a chair.
"Oh, Gibbs!" Her gasp was whispered as she quickly and quietly closed the door behind her, leaving it open just enough to let in enough light for them to see.
Gibbs stirred, blinking up into the crack of light. "Abbs?" His voice cracked. "What the Hell are you doing here, Abby?" He coughed for a moment.
Abby shoved aside any arguments, "Come on, Gibbs. We've come to rescue you."
"Gonna kill DiNozzo…" Gibbs' voice was slurred, but Abby knew what he was thinking.
"Shut up, Agent Gibbs. Focus." Abby began to untie the ropes that held his cut wrists. "Now…can you walk?"