A/N: I'm baaa-aack!
According to my doc manager, it's been 36 days since I posted a thing. And boy, does it feel good to write again! Thank you to everyone that put up with my hiatus... hopefully you enjoy this chapter.
Thanks goes to my wonderful beta, Trina109, who scrambled and read this only a few hours after I finished it. You rock, Trina! :)
Gibbs took the stairs three at a time, too impatient to wait for the elevator. Reaching the squad room floor, he swiftly yanked the drawer containing his gun and badge open, holstering the weapon while Tony and Ziva stared at him in bemusement. "Grab your gear" he barked at them, not waiting to see whether or not they'd followed his order.
Once clear of the Navy Yard he gunned the engine, driving with even less care than usual for the other traffic on the road. He had to try to get there before the Novikovs took Ducky. But the whole way his gut screamed that he was too late, that all they'd find was an empty house and a bloody note.
He pulled up in front of Ducky's brownstone, ignoring the screech from the protesting tyres and brakes and ran to the house, his gun drawn and ready. Once the rest of his team was at his back, he kicked the door in, quickly clearing the front room and gesturing for Tony and Ziva to branch out to the rest of the house. Ducky's hat and coat hung in the entranceway as normal; the ME had obviously made it home. If he was here, and conscious, there was no way he could have missed their entrance. Gibbs made his way cautiously up the stairs to the upper level, clearing each room as he went.
He found it in what was obviously the master bedroom. Propped up on the dresser was the inevitable note, the dark red ink- blood, he corrected grimly-still glistening wetly.
"And then there were two."
...
"We were following the wrong trail."
Tony clicked the remote, bringing up the next crime scene photo with a sort of restrained viciousness.
"Landon was the obvious suspect, Tony." Ziva replied.
"Until they took Ducky, you mean. And now we don't even have any idea who 'they' are." Tony pointed out.
Ziva opened her mouth to retort, but was stopped by Gibbs' voice from behind them.
"Tony's right, Ziva. McGee was just the first victim, not the ultimate target."
Tony turned at his words
"So who is the ultimate target, Boss?"
"Me."
...
The man with his steel pipe had returned. McGee had tried, desperately, to tell him to let Abby go, that he would give them the information that they needed. But the hooded man had concentrated on his chest and abdomen this time, robbing him of breath and making it impossible for him to speak.
And then, all at once, it was over. Still panting from the beating, he raised his head and squinted through his swollen eyelids at the screen in the corner. Abby appeared to still be sleeping, for which he was thankful. He didn't want her to see him. Not like this.
As he watched, a third quadrant of the screen flickered into life. He did his best to bite back a moan as he recognised the huddled figure in the corner. It was Ducky.