Fic: La Belle Dame Sans Merci [12/13]
Title: La Belle Dame Sans Merci
Author: Jo. R (driftingatdusk)
Rating: FR-15
Category: Drama, Angst, Action, Case-file, Romance, Friendship
Pairing: Abby/Gibbs
Spoilers: Mild for 'Child's Play', 'Hiatus', 'Rule 51'
Summary: When a friend is murdered, Abby will stop at nothing to get revenge.
Authors Note: So pretty much all of the action happens here, which is why it's twice the side of a normal chapter. Hope that's okay with you all! :)
****
Her apartment was the last place on earth she wanted to go but also the one place she needed to visit before she could meet with Tomas De Silvo. Abby stood in the hallway outside her home, staring at the bright yellow crime scene tape, doing her best to keep her mind from rerunning the memories of what she'd found the last time she'd entered the place that had once been her sanctuary from the rest of the world.
Her hand shook as she removed the tape from the door, and it took two attempts at getting the key in the lock before she was successful. Taking a deep breath to steal herself, Abby turned the key and pushed open the door.
The damage seemed somehow worse than she'd remembered, and looking at the empty spaces where her personal belongings should have been only served to remind her of where they were: in evidence storage lockers or, worse, irreparable in bin bags.
Shaking herself mentally, Abby forced herself forward, through the apartment to her bedroom. She wouldn't let herself look at the bed, couldn't without picturing Annie lying there, without imagining the horror and pain she must have felt. Bypassing the bed, she went straight for her dresser, crouching down to pick up the small black box she'd slid underneath it years ago.
It took only a few moments to spin the combination lock into the right order, the lid of the box releasing easily. Abby opened it fully and took out the gun that was kept inside, a privately owned, personally registered weapon she'd hoped she'd never have reason to use.
Tomas De Silvo was expecting her to be armed with her service weapon; she hoped he wouldn't think to check if she had anything else. As soon as Isabelle was out of the way, as soon as she was somewhere safe...
"Cross that bridge when you come to it," she told herself quietly, picking up the gun. She checked it over and loaded it with the bullets that had been lying next to it in the box.
Still without looking at the bed, Abby stowed the gun away and headed out of her apartment, intent on reaching the address De Silvo had sent her within plenty of time.
****
McGee swallowed and fought the urge to wipe his hands on the leg of his pants. Tony stood behind him, literally breathing down his neck, while Ziva watched intently from where she was perched on her own desk. Gibbs paced the floor between all of their desks, occasionally stopping to glare at him or bark an order to hurry it up.
He'd been tasked with recovering the text message Abby had deleted, something that would have been easy had he not been working to such a tight deadline. The network kept copies of text messages and had been willing to help them but had said it would take them time to find the exact one.
Time they didn't have.
Instead, they'd passed the raw data to NCIS and McGee was sifting through it, running several searches all at once in an attempt at finding the message Tomas De Silvo had sent their missing friend.
If only Abby would pick up her own phone, McGee found himself thinking not for the first time. If only she'd left it switched on so they could use it to track her location.
Just as he was beginning to think he was going to have to admit defeat, the computer in front of him beeped. A screen popped up and he pulled his hands back from the keyboard, using the mouse to make it bigger.
"Got it!" He couldn't keep the triumph from his voice. Memorising the address, he minimised the window and opened another, typing in the zipcode. A map appeared on the large plasma screen as he narrowed down the location, highlighting it for his boss and teammates.
"It's a residential property," McGee reported. "An apartment block owned by a developer that's due to be demolished at the end of the month. It's the only building remaining in a five-mile radius. Uninhabited so I'm not sure what kind of condition it'll be in."
"Doesn't matter." Gibbs looked at Tony, who was busily inputting the address into his satellite navigation. "Let's go."
"Boss?" Tony spoke as they followed him to the elevators, sat nav in hand. "De Silvo told her to go alone. If he figures out we're there, too..."
"He won't." Gibbs interrupted. "Not till after it matters."
****
Old and dingy, the building wasn't where she'd expected De Silvo to be hiding. Even from the outside, it looked like it was falling apart and, after pushing open the unsecured front door, Abby saw that the inside wasn't any better. The smell of damp hung heavily in the air and she eyed the floorboards that were visible through the thread-bare carpets warily, certain they'd be rotten through in places.
In his text message, he'd directed her to apartment 101, which was on the ground floor. A relief, she thought, giving the rickety staircase a wide birth as she walked as quietly as she could over a floor that creaked ominously with every other step.
There was no sound, no indication that there was anyone other than herself in the building. Abby approached the door to apartment 101 with growing trepidation, her hand tightening on the gun she held out in front of her.
The door, like the one at the front of the building, was slightly ajar.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open slowly, leaning away from it in case she was given a less-than-warm welcome.
Nothing.
She stepped forward and her breath caught in her throat. Her grip on the gun tightened to the point of pain and she had to keep herself from immediately running over to the little girl slumped forward in the chair she was tied to.
A chair with a bomb secured almost neatly to its legs.
"How do you like my present, Agent Sciuto?" The now-familiar voice of Tomas De Silvo called to her from somewhere in the shadows of the dimly lit apartment.
"You said you wouldn't hurt her," Abby murmured, stepping more fully into the apartment as her eyes focused on the source of the voice, standing just off to the side from Isabelle's unconscious form.
"She is unhurt." Tomas De Silvo stepped forward, shrugging as he moved into a pool of light spilling in from spaces between the wooden boards covering the windows. "She was becoming distressed. It is only a mild sedative."
"And I suppose the bomb would just be a mild shock?" Abby retorted sarcastically. She studied him intently, noting the gun he held in one hand and the knife he held in the other. "I thought you'd have company."
De Silvo shrugged one shoulder. "My associates are handling matters elsewhere. As this is personal, I decided to oversee it on my own."
"You either have a lot of confidence in yourself or Veronica told you I'd gone soft." Abby gave him a humourless smile when he inclined his head, agreeing with one or both of her statements. "I wouldn't believe everything Veronica's told you. She has a habit of making things up to make herself seem like the better person."
"I am aware of Veronica's habit of, shall we say, exaggerating her better qualities." De Silvo shrugged and lifted the gun he held when she took a step closer, an audible click echoing through the room as he took off the safety and let his finger rest lightly on the trigger. "I have no need for her. She was a means to an end."
"To me?" Tilting her head to the side slightly, Abby took the safety off her own weapon. "You really went to all of this trouble to get revenge for something that happened so long ago?"
"You murdered my brother. It is hardly 'something'." Anger flashed in his eyes, the first emotion she'd seen on his face since entering the room. "Now I will see to it that you die as penance."
Abby arched an eyebrow. "I get that you want me to die for what I did but I don't understand why you felt the need to try and kill everyone else who was there that night. I'm the one who pulled the trigger. I killed your brother to stop him from killing my partner. Why go after the others?"
"Why not?" De Silvo shrugged carelessly. "It upset you, yes? Going after your associates? I lost more than my brother, Agent Sciuto, I lost almost every I considered to be family that night. I see no reason why you should be any different than I."
"If you'd stuck around that night instead of running away, maybe they wouldn't be dead," Abby suggested, knowing she was playing with fire but hoping to be able to put him off his stride. Her mind was already working overtime, trying to recognise what kind of bomb it was, trying to see if she could defuse it herself or if she'd have to think of something else.
"I left because my brother ordered me to," De Silvo told her brusquely. "He did not want me to get hurt. He told me he would handle the situation and meet me. He never did, and that is thanks to you."
It was her turn to shrug, her eyes meeting his. "If you guys hadn't decided to leave your bombs all over the country, I wouldn't have had to. You're the one who chose this. Surely you knew what the consequences would be when you made that decision."
Her words sounded eerily similar to the ones Gibbs had said to her in the stairwell at NCIS but Abby dismissed the thought, sensing De Silvo was losing patience.
"Enough talking. There are places I need to be." De Silvo moved to the chair and Abby tensed. She tracked him with her weapon, biting her lip when he held his own gun to Isabelle's head. "Do not move, Agent Sciuto, or the girl will die." He knelt as she watched, keeping his body well covered behind the chair and the little girl sitting in it.
An electronic beep sounded and a display that had been blank lit up with a countdown.
05:00.
Straightening, De Silvo wasted no time in pointing his gun at Abby and pulling the trigger. Abby moved swiftly behind the mouldy remains of a bookcase, pressing her back against the peeling wallpaper to avoid his shot while firing one of her own.
His grunt suggested her bullet had hit him but the fact he stayed on his feet told her it was only a graze.
"If you're planning on shooting me, why arm the bomb?" Abby called out, the dampness of the wall behind her seeping into her clothes.
"Insurance," De Silvo answered in a clipped voice. "I want to be sure that you will not disarm the bomb once I am gone."
"Shoot to wound, not to kill," Abby muttered, mostly to herself as she realised his intention. "Nice."
"The clock is ticking, Agent Sciuto. I am not afraid of death." De Silvo's voice was closer than she'd been expecting, telling her he'd moved to the other side of the bookcase. "Are you?"
She wasn't, but she didn't want her niece to die, too. Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to think of what to do. She wanted to hurt him, wanted to make him suffer, but the rational part of her mind told her that a thirst for revenge was responsible for the events of the past weeks - his intent on revenge against her for what she'd done in the line of duty. To go after him with that same hunger would make her no better than he was, and would undoubtedly mean Isabelle would pay the ultimate cost.
She edged herself closer to the end of the bookcase. She couldn't shoot blindly without risking a stray bullet hitting her niece, couldn't push the heavy piece of furniture over and onto him without taking a chance it might cause the bomb to detonate sooner than it had to.
She couldn't do nothing and let time run out.
A sudden movement from the corner of her eye distracted her momentarily and she moved to avoid the shot she knew was coming just a moment too late. Time seemed to freeze and she felt was a blast of white hot pain as a bullet implanted itself the fleshy part of her upper thigh as she landed with a thud on the floor beside Isabelle's chair. Twisting, crying out as it pressed her injury against the floor, Abby took aim and fired as Tomas De Silvo tried to make it out of the apartment door.
A surprised grunt proceeded the dull thump of his body falling to the ground, her shot hitting the back of his head with deadly accuracy.
"A little to the left," Abby muttered, remembering her refresher lesson with Gibbs. "Did the job, though."
She felt a momentary twinge of disappointment that his suffering was over so easily, then turned her attention to the bomb still ticking down.
03:37.
Her body was already growing sluggish as a result of the blood loss, refusing to cooperate as she struggled to pull herself into an upright position. Her vision blurred momentarily as beads of cold sweat dripped from her hairline and stung her eyes.
There were three wires, all the same colour, and she had no idea which one to cut. She reached for her knife, eyeing the ropes keeping Isabelle in place warily.
They were thick, heavy-duty ropes and she knew it would probably take longer to cut through them than the three minutes she had. Resolving herself to at least trying it, Abby ground her teeth against the pain and the darkness she could see encroaching on her vision.
03.02.
Footsteps in the hall outside made her stop what she was doing and fumble for her gun. She held it with a hand she couldn't keep steady, her finger poised over the trigger.
Relief filled her when Gibbs came into view, followed by Tony, Ziva and McGee, replaced quickly by fear as the counter beside her kept ticking down.
Gibbs surveyed the scene with one look, noting the position of the body, the fact De Silvo had been shot leaving the room, the blood soaking through Abby's pants and staining the floor, the unconscious girl and the display on the bomb attached to the chair.
"David, disarm the bomb. DiNozzo, work on those ropes and get the kid out of here. McGee, call it in. Make sure there's no one around and if there is, get them out of the area."
His team immediately did as he ordered. He moved over to Abby but stopped when she waved her gun at him, arching an eyebrow.
"I'm not going anywhere without Isabelle," she warned him quietly.
"You need medical attention, Abby," Gibbs told her evenly. "That's a lot of blood on the floor."
She shook her head vehemently, shuffling out of the way to give Tony and Ziva room to work. Her face paled even further at the action and she shrugged out of her jacket, fingers fumbling to wrap it around her thigh like a tourniquet. She protested at first when Gibbs knelt down, relenting only when he made it clear he was trying to help tie the material tight enough rather than carry her away from the child against her will.
"What happened, Abby?" He asked quietly, calm blue eyes locking with her luminous green ones.
"He shot me. I shot him." She shrugged under the weight of his gaze. "I couldn't let him get away, Gibbs. I couldn't let him walk out of here."
"You shot him in the back of the head."
"A little to the left, I know." She bit her lip and looked at her niece. "If I'd let him go, it would never be over. He'd always be out there."
"Got her!" Tony's declaration prevented him from answering. Gibbs looked up to see him cradle the little girl in his arms, already heading towards the door.
"Go," Gibbs ordered unnecessarily. "How's it going, Ziva?"
Ziva muttered something that sounded like a curse but didn't answer.
01:59.
"Leave it. Let's get out of here." Ziva hesitated for only a second, getting to her feet with another disgruntled sound. She moved to Gibbs' side and, together, they helped Abby get to her feet. When she was standing, Gibbs wrapped his arm around her waist and slung hers over his shoulder. "Go on, Ziva. We'll be right behind you."
Reluctantly, Ziva walked ahead of them, glancing back over her shoulder periodically as if to check they were there. With Gibbs help, Abby was able to make it to the front door before she stumbled, a cry she couldn't repress escaping her as pain shot up and down her injured leg.
With no time to spare, Gibbs hoisted her into his arms, walking as fast as he could down the steps at the front of the building.
A loud explosion signalled time was up. They all dived to the ground, with Gibbs and Tony taking care not to crush their precious cargo. Abby felt the debris rain down on them, shards of brick and wood. Her ears rang with the sound and her eyes stung. Her lungs struggled under the weight of the heavy dust in the air.
She felt the pressure on her chest ease and looked up to find Gibbs pushing himself up at her, blood streaming from a cut on his forehead. She saw his lips move and understood he was asking if she was okay but his voice sounded as though it was coming from a long way away.
She tilted her head and saw Isabelle open her eyes, her expression dazed and groggy but thankfully alive.
Tony, Ziva and McGee were already on their feet, the latter talking on his cell phone as the first two saw to her niece.
Turning her attention back to Gibbs, Abby managed to lift one of her arms, the limb feeling unusually heavy. It took two attempts at signing what she wanted to; telling him without words that she was okay before darkness took over, the ringing in her ears fading into silence.
****
Author: Jo. R (driftingatdusk)
Rating: FR-15
Category: Drama, Angst, Action, Case-file, Romance, Friendship
Pairing: Abby/Gibbs
Spoilers: Mild for 'Child's Play', 'Hiatus', 'Rule 51'
Summary: When a friend is murdered, Abby will stop at nothing to get revenge.
Authors Note: So pretty much all of the action happens here, which is why it's twice the side of a normal chapter. Hope that's okay with you all! :)
****
Her apartment was the last place on earth she wanted to go but also the one place she needed to visit before she could meet with Tomas De Silvo. Abby stood in the hallway outside her home, staring at the bright yellow crime scene tape, doing her best to keep her mind from rerunning the memories of what she'd found the last time she'd entered the place that had once been her sanctuary from the rest of the world.
Her hand shook as she removed the tape from the door, and it took two attempts at getting the key in the lock before she was successful. Taking a deep breath to steal herself, Abby turned the key and pushed open the door.
The damage seemed somehow worse than she'd remembered, and looking at the empty spaces where her personal belongings should have been only served to remind her of where they were: in evidence storage lockers or, worse, irreparable in bin bags.
Shaking herself mentally, Abby forced herself forward, through the apartment to her bedroom. She wouldn't let herself look at the bed, couldn't without picturing Annie lying there, without imagining the horror and pain she must have felt. Bypassing the bed, she went straight for her dresser, crouching down to pick up the small black box she'd slid underneath it years ago.
It took only a few moments to spin the combination lock into the right order, the lid of the box releasing easily. Abby opened it fully and took out the gun that was kept inside, a privately owned, personally registered weapon she'd hoped she'd never have reason to use.
Tomas De Silvo was expecting her to be armed with her service weapon; she hoped he wouldn't think to check if she had anything else. As soon as Isabelle was out of the way, as soon as she was somewhere safe...
"Cross that bridge when you come to it," she told herself quietly, picking up the gun. She checked it over and loaded it with the bullets that had been lying next to it in the box.
Still without looking at the bed, Abby stowed the gun away and headed out of her apartment, intent on reaching the address De Silvo had sent her within plenty of time.
****
McGee swallowed and fought the urge to wipe his hands on the leg of his pants. Tony stood behind him, literally breathing down his neck, while Ziva watched intently from where she was perched on her own desk. Gibbs paced the floor between all of their desks, occasionally stopping to glare at him or bark an order to hurry it up.
He'd been tasked with recovering the text message Abby had deleted, something that would have been easy had he not been working to such a tight deadline. The network kept copies of text messages and had been willing to help them but had said it would take them time to find the exact one.
Time they didn't have.
Instead, they'd passed the raw data to NCIS and McGee was sifting through it, running several searches all at once in an attempt at finding the message Tomas De Silvo had sent their missing friend.
If only Abby would pick up her own phone, McGee found himself thinking not for the first time. If only she'd left it switched on so they could use it to track her location.
Just as he was beginning to think he was going to have to admit defeat, the computer in front of him beeped. A screen popped up and he pulled his hands back from the keyboard, using the mouse to make it bigger.
"Got it!" He couldn't keep the triumph from his voice. Memorising the address, he minimised the window and opened another, typing in the zipcode. A map appeared on the large plasma screen as he narrowed down the location, highlighting it for his boss and teammates.
"It's a residential property," McGee reported. "An apartment block owned by a developer that's due to be demolished at the end of the month. It's the only building remaining in a five-mile radius. Uninhabited so I'm not sure what kind of condition it'll be in."
"Doesn't matter." Gibbs looked at Tony, who was busily inputting the address into his satellite navigation. "Let's go."
"Boss?" Tony spoke as they followed him to the elevators, sat nav in hand. "De Silvo told her to go alone. If he figures out we're there, too..."
"He won't." Gibbs interrupted. "Not till after it matters."
****
Old and dingy, the building wasn't where she'd expected De Silvo to be hiding. Even from the outside, it looked like it was falling apart and, after pushing open the unsecured front door, Abby saw that the inside wasn't any better. The smell of damp hung heavily in the air and she eyed the floorboards that were visible through the thread-bare carpets warily, certain they'd be rotten through in places.
In his text message, he'd directed her to apartment 101, which was on the ground floor. A relief, she thought, giving the rickety staircase a wide birth as she walked as quietly as she could over a floor that creaked ominously with every other step.
There was no sound, no indication that there was anyone other than herself in the building. Abby approached the door to apartment 101 with growing trepidation, her hand tightening on the gun she held out in front of her.
The door, like the one at the front of the building, was slightly ajar.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open slowly, leaning away from it in case she was given a less-than-warm welcome.
Nothing.
She stepped forward and her breath caught in her throat. Her grip on the gun tightened to the point of pain and she had to keep herself from immediately running over to the little girl slumped forward in the chair she was tied to.
A chair with a bomb secured almost neatly to its legs.
"How do you like my present, Agent Sciuto?" The now-familiar voice of Tomas De Silvo called to her from somewhere in the shadows of the dimly lit apartment.
"You said you wouldn't hurt her," Abby murmured, stepping more fully into the apartment as her eyes focused on the source of the voice, standing just off to the side from Isabelle's unconscious form.
"She is unhurt." Tomas De Silvo stepped forward, shrugging as he moved into a pool of light spilling in from spaces between the wooden boards covering the windows. "She was becoming distressed. It is only a mild sedative."
"And I suppose the bomb would just be a mild shock?" Abby retorted sarcastically. She studied him intently, noting the gun he held in one hand and the knife he held in the other. "I thought you'd have company."
De Silvo shrugged one shoulder. "My associates are handling matters elsewhere. As this is personal, I decided to oversee it on my own."
"You either have a lot of confidence in yourself or Veronica told you I'd gone soft." Abby gave him a humourless smile when he inclined his head, agreeing with one or both of her statements. "I wouldn't believe everything Veronica's told you. She has a habit of making things up to make herself seem like the better person."
"I am aware of Veronica's habit of, shall we say, exaggerating her better qualities." De Silvo shrugged and lifted the gun he held when she took a step closer, an audible click echoing through the room as he took off the safety and let his finger rest lightly on the trigger. "I have no need for her. She was a means to an end."
"To me?" Tilting her head to the side slightly, Abby took the safety off her own weapon. "You really went to all of this trouble to get revenge for something that happened so long ago?"
"You murdered my brother. It is hardly 'something'." Anger flashed in his eyes, the first emotion she'd seen on his face since entering the room. "Now I will see to it that you die as penance."
Abby arched an eyebrow. "I get that you want me to die for what I did but I don't understand why you felt the need to try and kill everyone else who was there that night. I'm the one who pulled the trigger. I killed your brother to stop him from killing my partner. Why go after the others?"
"Why not?" De Silvo shrugged carelessly. "It upset you, yes? Going after your associates? I lost more than my brother, Agent Sciuto, I lost almost every I considered to be family that night. I see no reason why you should be any different than I."
"If you'd stuck around that night instead of running away, maybe they wouldn't be dead," Abby suggested, knowing she was playing with fire but hoping to be able to put him off his stride. Her mind was already working overtime, trying to recognise what kind of bomb it was, trying to see if she could defuse it herself or if she'd have to think of something else.
"I left because my brother ordered me to," De Silvo told her brusquely. "He did not want me to get hurt. He told me he would handle the situation and meet me. He never did, and that is thanks to you."
It was her turn to shrug, her eyes meeting his. "If you guys hadn't decided to leave your bombs all over the country, I wouldn't have had to. You're the one who chose this. Surely you knew what the consequences would be when you made that decision."
Her words sounded eerily similar to the ones Gibbs had said to her in the stairwell at NCIS but Abby dismissed the thought, sensing De Silvo was losing patience.
"Enough talking. There are places I need to be." De Silvo moved to the chair and Abby tensed. She tracked him with her weapon, biting her lip when he held his own gun to Isabelle's head. "Do not move, Agent Sciuto, or the girl will die." He knelt as she watched, keeping his body well covered behind the chair and the little girl sitting in it.
An electronic beep sounded and a display that had been blank lit up with a countdown.
05:00.
Straightening, De Silvo wasted no time in pointing his gun at Abby and pulling the trigger. Abby moved swiftly behind the mouldy remains of a bookcase, pressing her back against the peeling wallpaper to avoid his shot while firing one of her own.
His grunt suggested her bullet had hit him but the fact he stayed on his feet told her it was only a graze.
"If you're planning on shooting me, why arm the bomb?" Abby called out, the dampness of the wall behind her seeping into her clothes.
"Insurance," De Silvo answered in a clipped voice. "I want to be sure that you will not disarm the bomb once I am gone."
"Shoot to wound, not to kill," Abby muttered, mostly to herself as she realised his intention. "Nice."
"The clock is ticking, Agent Sciuto. I am not afraid of death." De Silvo's voice was closer than she'd been expecting, telling her he'd moved to the other side of the bookcase. "Are you?"
She wasn't, but she didn't want her niece to die, too. Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to think of what to do. She wanted to hurt him, wanted to make him suffer, but the rational part of her mind told her that a thirst for revenge was responsible for the events of the past weeks - his intent on revenge against her for what she'd done in the line of duty. To go after him with that same hunger would make her no better than he was, and would undoubtedly mean Isabelle would pay the ultimate cost.
She edged herself closer to the end of the bookcase. She couldn't shoot blindly without risking a stray bullet hitting her niece, couldn't push the heavy piece of furniture over and onto him without taking a chance it might cause the bomb to detonate sooner than it had to.
She couldn't do nothing and let time run out.
A sudden movement from the corner of her eye distracted her momentarily and she moved to avoid the shot she knew was coming just a moment too late. Time seemed to freeze and she felt was a blast of white hot pain as a bullet implanted itself the fleshy part of her upper thigh as she landed with a thud on the floor beside Isabelle's chair. Twisting, crying out as it pressed her injury against the floor, Abby took aim and fired as Tomas De Silvo tried to make it out of the apartment door.
A surprised grunt proceeded the dull thump of his body falling to the ground, her shot hitting the back of his head with deadly accuracy.
"A little to the left," Abby muttered, remembering her refresher lesson with Gibbs. "Did the job, though."
She felt a momentary twinge of disappointment that his suffering was over so easily, then turned her attention to the bomb still ticking down.
03:37.
Her body was already growing sluggish as a result of the blood loss, refusing to cooperate as she struggled to pull herself into an upright position. Her vision blurred momentarily as beads of cold sweat dripped from her hairline and stung her eyes.
There were three wires, all the same colour, and she had no idea which one to cut. She reached for her knife, eyeing the ropes keeping Isabelle in place warily.
They were thick, heavy-duty ropes and she knew it would probably take longer to cut through them than the three minutes she had. Resolving herself to at least trying it, Abby ground her teeth against the pain and the darkness she could see encroaching on her vision.
03.02.
Footsteps in the hall outside made her stop what she was doing and fumble for her gun. She held it with a hand she couldn't keep steady, her finger poised over the trigger.
Relief filled her when Gibbs came into view, followed by Tony, Ziva and McGee, replaced quickly by fear as the counter beside her kept ticking down.
Gibbs surveyed the scene with one look, noting the position of the body, the fact De Silvo had been shot leaving the room, the blood soaking through Abby's pants and staining the floor, the unconscious girl and the display on the bomb attached to the chair.
"David, disarm the bomb. DiNozzo, work on those ropes and get the kid out of here. McGee, call it in. Make sure there's no one around and if there is, get them out of the area."
His team immediately did as he ordered. He moved over to Abby but stopped when she waved her gun at him, arching an eyebrow.
"I'm not going anywhere without Isabelle," she warned him quietly.
"You need medical attention, Abby," Gibbs told her evenly. "That's a lot of blood on the floor."
She shook her head vehemently, shuffling out of the way to give Tony and Ziva room to work. Her face paled even further at the action and she shrugged out of her jacket, fingers fumbling to wrap it around her thigh like a tourniquet. She protested at first when Gibbs knelt down, relenting only when he made it clear he was trying to help tie the material tight enough rather than carry her away from the child against her will.
"What happened, Abby?" He asked quietly, calm blue eyes locking with her luminous green ones.
"He shot me. I shot him." She shrugged under the weight of his gaze. "I couldn't let him get away, Gibbs. I couldn't let him walk out of here."
"You shot him in the back of the head."
"A little to the left, I know." She bit her lip and looked at her niece. "If I'd let him go, it would never be over. He'd always be out there."
"Got her!" Tony's declaration prevented him from answering. Gibbs looked up to see him cradle the little girl in his arms, already heading towards the door.
"Go," Gibbs ordered unnecessarily. "How's it going, Ziva?"
Ziva muttered something that sounded like a curse but didn't answer.
01:59.
"Leave it. Let's get out of here." Ziva hesitated for only a second, getting to her feet with another disgruntled sound. She moved to Gibbs' side and, together, they helped Abby get to her feet. When she was standing, Gibbs wrapped his arm around her waist and slung hers over his shoulder. "Go on, Ziva. We'll be right behind you."
Reluctantly, Ziva walked ahead of them, glancing back over her shoulder periodically as if to check they were there. With Gibbs help, Abby was able to make it to the front door before she stumbled, a cry she couldn't repress escaping her as pain shot up and down her injured leg.
With no time to spare, Gibbs hoisted her into his arms, walking as fast as he could down the steps at the front of the building.
A loud explosion signalled time was up. They all dived to the ground, with Gibbs and Tony taking care not to crush their precious cargo. Abby felt the debris rain down on them, shards of brick and wood. Her ears rang with the sound and her eyes stung. Her lungs struggled under the weight of the heavy dust in the air.
She felt the pressure on her chest ease and looked up to find Gibbs pushing himself up at her, blood streaming from a cut on his forehead. She saw his lips move and understood he was asking if she was okay but his voice sounded as though it was coming from a long way away.
She tilted her head and saw Isabelle open her eyes, her expression dazed and groggy but thankfully alive.
Tony, Ziva and McGee were already on their feet, the latter talking on his cell phone as the first two saw to her niece.
Turning her attention back to Gibbs, Abby managed to lift one of her arms, the limb feeling unusually heavy. It took two attempts at signing what she wanted to; telling him without words that she was okay before darkness took over, the ringing in her ears fading into silence.
****