Fic: Unbreakable [2/3] Abby-gen

Feb 06, 2011 12:15

Title: Unbreakable
Author: Jo. R (driftingatdusk)
Rating: FR-18 for sensitive themes
Warning: Abuse, Violence, Adult themes
Pairings: None.
Category: Angst, Drama, Team, Case-file, Abby/Tony friendship, Abby/Ziva friendship, Abby/Gibbs friendship, Abby/McGee friendship.
Spoilers: Tiny one for 'Bloodbath'.
Summary: Abby learns that twenty years of freedom isn't long enough when someone from the past won't let her go. Can the team help her be unbreakable or will she fall?


****

She chose to stay with them at the hotel they'd booked rather than contact her brother and ask to stay with him for a few days. While Abby adored her niece and got on well with her sister-in-law, her relationship with her brother had been somewhat strained ever since they were children.

Ever since that year, she thought to herself as she got ready for bed, changing into the t-shirt she'd stolen from Gibbs' case and the sweatpants Ziva had lent her.

Across the room, Ziva sat cross-legged on one of the twin beds in the hotel suite they were sharing. She could feel the Israeli's eyes on her but wasn't sure how to start to a conversation. Abby knew that while she had been at the Hell house with Gibbs and Tony, Ziva and McGee had been learning everything there was to know about her previous stay at the house and that knowledge made her feel uncomfortable.

It made her feel exposed.

Once they'd both brushed their teeth and used the bathroom and slipped under the sheets of their respective beds, Abby realised she couldn't keep avoiding the conversation Ziva obviously wanted to have but was as uncertain as she was in how to start it. There was little chance she'd get to sleep anyway but none whatsoever as long as she felt Ziva's weighing her down.

Abby lay on her back, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling, wondering if they were something she should tell the hotel receptionist about when they checked out. "You're staring at me."

"I am sorry, Abby, I did not mean..." Ziva broke off with a sigh. "It is just that I do not know if I will be able to look at you in the same way again."

"Why not?" Her voice sounded small, even to her ears. Abby curled up beneath the blankets, clutching her pillow tightly, thankful that they'd already switched off the lights. "I'm still me."

"I did not mean it in a bad way, Abby." There was a rustling of sheets and Abby closed her eyes just as Ziva fumbled with the switch of the lamp between their beds, flooding the room with light. "It is because you have been through far more than I ever thought you had yet you are still, usually, one of the happiest people I have ever met. You are so good, Abby, and I do not understand how you can be after what you went through."

Abby sat up when Ziva crossed the room to sit on the edge of her bed. She looked at her friend and chewed her bottom lip anxiously. "You've been through things I can't even imagine - things I don't want to imagine - and you came out on the other side."

There was a slight pause during which a sad expression crossed over Ziva's features. "But I am not whole," Ziva admitted, her brown eyes locked with Abby's, far more expressive than she usually let them be. "You still open yourself to others; trust them with your whole heart. That is something I am unable to do."

"It's something you can learn to do." Taking her hand from the sheets, Abby covered the hand Ziva let rest net to her leg on the bedspread. "And I'm not as whole as you think I am," she murmured, dropping her gaze momentarily. Another pause filled the air between them, not quite awkward but not entirely comfortably. Then, with a bright smile that Ziva could see wasn't quite as genuine as she'd usually believe it was, Abby looked up once more. "I know that it's going to be hard but... Could you try?"

"Try?" Ziva arched an eyebrow, momentarily confused. "Try what?"

"To look at me the way you used to?" Abby's smile softened, turning tremulous at best. "I'm still the Abby I've always been, the one you've always known. Nothing about that has changed."

"You are right, of course." Ziva returned the smile with one of her own. She withdrew her hand from underneath Abby's only to move forward, embracing Abby in a tight hug, one of the first of the many between them that Ziva had initiated. "I will try, Abby. I promise."

Returning the embrace, the smile that curved up the corners of Abby's mouth was small but genuine. "Thank you."

They parted ways fondly and Ziva turned the light off on her way back to her own bed, plunging the room into darkness once more. Abby lay back against the pillows, waiting until her eyes adjusted before studying the ceiling once more.

****

At some point, she realised she was dreaming. Realising it didn't make her wake up instantly, though, nor did it stop her from being afraid.

The ground was cold and damp underneath her; the mud clumped together in places where the most recently inflicted wounds had bled out onto it. She dug her bare toes into it, using the pain to keep herself focused. She didn't want to lose consciousness if she could help it; bad things happened to the girls when they were unable to defend themselves.

Her ribs hurt from the kicks she'd taken when they'd punished her for trying to curl up in a tight ball. Her lip was cracked again, the blood dry and flaky. She thought she'd maybe hit her head at some point but couldn't remember when; either she'd been pushed into something or something had been deliberately aimed at her head but the whole thing was a blurred memory, one she didn't want to try and remember any clearly.

She heard the girl in the cage next door to hers whimper and scooted closer to the bricked up wall between them. It'd been Maria's cage once, before Maria had left. She'd liked Maria; Maria had already been there when Abby had arrived and she'd tried looking out for the younger girl. Abby wondered sometimes if that was the reason Maria had been taken away. They'd started digging a shallow tunnel between their cages, just enough that they could slip their hands underneath the bricks and bars separating them. Even the touch of a hand from someone who didn't want to hurt you was comforting in the Hell House as Maria had called it once.

"Hey," her voice hoarse from her cries, Abby spoke quietly, not wanting to be overhead by any of their captors. "My name's Abby. What's yours?"

The girl on the other side continued to whimper and sniff. Abby listened closely, letting her head rest against the bricks. They were slick with damp but a cool, welcome relief against her heated skin. After a long pause in which Abby thought she'd maybe lost consciousness at least once, a trembling voice answered.

"Lori. My name is Lori."

And that was where the dream stopped being a memory, and started being something else.

In reality, she'd pretended to be asleep when she heard the footsteps come down the stairs from the rooms above. In reality, they'd only stopped briefly at the door to her cage before moving on, not stopping until they were outside the cage three doors down from her own.

In her dream, she kept her eyes focused on what was going on in front of her, terror and dread causing her stomach to roll as the door to her cage swung open.

Cruel, hard eyes stared at her, appearing dark in the shadows of the cellar though she knew in reality they were green. A wicked grin spread thin lips against yellow teeth. His breath stank like stale alcohol, though it'd be a few years before she was able to put a name to the smell. He leaned in, reaching for her, and Abby automatically shrank back, a whimper escaping from her throat as she tried to evade the hands grabbing at her.

"You were a bad girl," the man said, his voice low with malicious intent. "Maria wants to show you what happens to bad girls."

His fingers dug into the already tender flesh of her arm, creating a fresh layer of bruises over those already in existence. He dragged her up onto her bare feet and tangled his hand in her hair, yanking on her matted locks in an attempt at getting her to keep up.

Something sharp dug into her foot half-way across the floor towards the stairs and she stumbled, a cry escaping her despite the way her teeth dug into her bottom lips. The sharp pain of her hair being pulled brought tears to her eyes and she crashed ungracefully into the stairs as he pushed her in front of him.

Abby scrambled up the stairs as fast as she could, pushing herself up with weak arms and legs that threatened to give out on her with every stair she climbed. He yanked her up on her feet again when they got to the top and dragged her across to the kitchen door at a pace she couldn't match no matter how hard she tried.

Tears slipped down her cheeks, stinging cuts she hadn't known were there on her cheeks. The blast of cool evening air was welcome even as the stones and twigs she stood on sliced her bare feet and brought fresh tears to her eyes. She sensed more than saw someone walking behind them, heard the footsteps and the telltale jingle of chains as she was led almost blindly to their destination.

A small sapling stood in a plain ceramic planter, ready to be taken from its temporary home and put into the ground. Abby wondered why at first, her confused mind trying to process what he wanted to show her.

It was then she noticed the hole in the ground, the one he was pulling her closer and closer to, and panic caused her throat to close up, mews of helpless protest escaping her even as dark spots appeared and began to dance in front of her eyes.

"Look." His breath was hot against her ear and the skin of her neck and she squirmed instinctively, trying to get away. "Look what happens to bad girls," he murmured, lips a hairsbreadth from the shell of her ear. "Look into the hole."

She closed her eyes and shook her head, scared she already knew what he wanted her to see. It was only when the second person, the one trailing them, came to stand at her other side that Abby knew she had no choice.

She opened her eyes and looked, bile rising in her throat as the sightless eyes of the girl she'd known as Maria stared up at her from inside the hole. Fresh blood oozed from a circular wound to the girl's temple and blood stained her lips and nose.

"No. No, no, no, no." Abby shook her head in her dream; tried to wake herself up. "This isn't real, this isn't real. This didn't happen."

The two men either side of her laughed and she cried out when they each took an arm. They pushed her and she tumbled forward, falling into the hole, onto the cooling body of the girl who had been her friend.

And she screamed.

****

Strong hands gripped her shoulders and shook her. Someone far away was screaming. It was only when the hands shook her again that Abby realised it was her. Her eyes flew open and she found herself gasping for breath just as the door to the room sprung open and swung back to hit the wall with a loud slam.

"It is alright, Abby, you are safe." The owner of the hands, Ziva, stared at her, dark eyes even darker with concern. One hand moved to wipe at the tears that ran down Abby's cheeks. "It was just a dream," Ziva continued soothingly, assuring both Abby and the three men who were still standing in the doorway of the room, guns in their hands. "It was just a dream."

Abby shook her head, her eyes darting around the room, taking in the tangled sheets around her legs and the way her vest top and shorts clung to the cool sweat that had broken out over her skin.

She looked at Ziva, at Gibbs, McGee and Tony, and shook her head again. It took two attempts at clearing her throat and a long drink from the glass of water that Ziva pushed into her hand before she was able to speak.

"It wasn't a dream," she told them, her voice hoarse from her cries and screams, her eyes flat as she wrapped her arms around herself in an effort at stopping the shivers that wracked her slender frame. "It was a memory, I think. But not one I remembered before."

****

They ended up standing before a row of trees that had been saplings twenty years ago with a group of local law enforcement officers wondering why they've been called from their beds in the dead of night. Abby shivered despite the clammy Louisiana night and wrapped her arms around herself, wondering why she'd never made the connection before.

Seven trees of the same or similar age.

Seven missing girls who'd never made it home.

Gibbs moved to stand beside her, pushing a Styrofoam cup in her hand. She knew before the first sip that it wasn't coffee; she was jittery enough without a jolt of caffeine.

The ground shuddered beneath them as the digger did its job and moved mounds of dirt and tree root away from the area she'd insisted they look.

If there was nothing there, she'd feel foolish.

If there was nothing there, she'd feel relieved.

She didn't look up from the hole that was being created, didn't need to to know that she and Gibbs had been joined by the others. They huddled around her, protecting her from the curious stares and questioning glances, and waited patiently.

The cop supervising the dig called out suddenly, sharply, holding up a hand to halt the motions of the digger. More light was poured into the hole and Gibbs, Ziva and Tony moved forward to see what the cause of it was.

McGee stayed, moving closer to her side. His arm brushed hers lightly.

She knew even before Gibbs started towards them, his blue eyes sharp but sympathetic at the same time.

"It's Maria," she whispered before he could speak, grateful for the arm McGee slid around her waist as her legs grew weak and trembled underneath her weight. "You've found Maria."

"We found some remains," Gibbs said, his voice calm though his eyes searched hers intensely. "You should go back to the hotel, Abby. You don't need to be here for this."

She held his gaze and was proud of herself for doing so, thought maybe she saw pride in his face that she could, too. "You're going to find the others," she told him matter-of-factly, confident that she was right despite her desperate wishes that she wasn't. "I want to be here for that. I want to be here for them."

He stared at her for several long moments, waiting for her to blink or look away first. When she didn't, he gave her a small nod before his gaze flicked to McGee's and back in a silent order for the younger agent to stay with her. "Let me know if you change your mind."

Abby gave him a small smile of thanks before he turned on his heel to rejoin Tony and Ziva, cell phone already in hand no doubt to call Doctor Donald 'Ducky' Mallard to get the ME involved in the case. McGee stayed at her side, his arm slipping from her waist though he still stayed close enough for her to feel his warmth.

"You want to wait in the car?" McGee asked after a few moments, his voice a low murmur she only just heard over the sound of the digger's engine starting up again.

The worried glances she got from Tony and Ziva, along with the continued stares of the local cops on scene almost made her say yes. But then she saw the remains of the girl she'd known as Maria lifted out of the hole in the ground where she'd spent the last twenty years and changed her mind, shaking her head even as her hand searched for and found his, her grip painfully tight. "I'll stay," she told him with more bravado than she felt. "They deserve that much."

McGee said nothing but gave her hand a quick squeeze. He stood at her side, a silent tower of strength, as six more bodies were unearthed from their premature graves.

****

Maria Southern.

Jessica Young.

Adrianne May.

Debi Layland.

Katie Masters.

Molly Scott.

Tracey Jones.

Their smiling, innocent faces looked up at him from the front page of the newspaper he held with clenched hands.

Seven girls, missing no more.

He'd read the article half a dozen times and still wasn't able to truly comprehend the black words printed on the white page. He understood that their bodies had finally been discovered, that the case into what the journalists at the time had called the 'Hell House' had been temporarily re-opened.

He read that it was a former occupant of the house, another victim, who'd come forward with the information after twenty years. Who'd *remembered* the information after years of suppressing the memory of what had happened to those who hadn't survived.

It didn't mention her by name but he had a sinking feeling he knew which of the survivors it was. She'd always been the brightest, the most astute. He remembered she was the one who'd orchestrated their escape, the one who'd been there the longest and learnt all of the weakness she and the others exploited in order to get free.

He wished, for her sake, that she'd stayed away.

Knew that, if given a choice, she would have.

With trembling hands, he reached for the phone on the table beside his arm chair, his fingers fumbling over the buttons as he dialled a number that he'd memorised years ago but hoped he'd never have cause to use.

The caller answered within two rings, snappy and impatient. "What do you want?"

"Why?" was all he said. "Why now?"

****

Looking up at the outside of the white-washed house she'd grown up in, Abby wondered if it would ever feel like home again. She'd been forced to either call her brother and ask if she could pick up the clothes she'd left in what used to be her childhood bedroom or go shopping for a new set of clothing and had decided to go with the lesser evil. Comfortable, familiar clothes would be better than starchy new ones; she hoped they'd help make her feel more like the woman she'd become, too, instead of the child she once was.

All three of Gibbs' agents had offered to come with her to the house and she knew it wasn't just because they were curious to see where she'd lived. They were all keen to keep her close, all wanting to protect her in the present since they'd had no way of doing so in the past. In the end, though, she'd been saved the unenviable task of having to chose between them and risk hurting their feelings as Gibbs had simply told her he'd drive her there and back, doling out orders to the others either to continue digging in the past for clues of who might be responsible for bringing her to New Orleans or to support the families of the recently discovered girls as they were once more put through the nightmare of losing a child.

No one had argued with him, partly because of who he was, partly because of his relationship with Abby, the exact nature of which was constantly up for discussion amongst his agents, and partly because they knew he could more than empathise with the parents of the dead girls.

"You okay, Abby?" He came around the side of the car to stand beside her, a neutral expression on his face as he joined her in surveying the house. "If you want to wait in the car, I can handle your brother."

A small smile quirked the corners of her mouth. "He's not that bad, Gibbs. I can handle him." Her smile slipped a little when he turned his attention from the house to her. "It's just being here, having to go through it all again." She shrugged one shoulder, pushing her hands into the pockets of the long, light coat Ziva had leant her. "I feel like a kid again. Powerless."

"You're not." The look on his face was serious, only his eyes betraying his concern. "You've come a long way from the teenager you were, Abby. Don't forget that."

She gave him a small smile of thanks but they both knew it was easier said than done, especially given they were no further forward in discovering how she'd come to be back in New Orleans. Someone had brought her, an unknown face who had gone to great lengths to ensure she got there.

Someone who'd yet to make his or her motives known.

She squared her shoulders, only to let them slump when he moved a hand to the small of her back, using the slightest bit of pressure to get her moving up the path towards the brightly painted red front door.

****

From his chair, he heard the front door open and close. He listened, heart beating a mile a minute, as the footsteps got closer, as a floorboard creaked beneath the feet of his visitor. He held himself still, doing his best to keep his expression neutral even as he looked up and stared into the eyes that were so similar to his own.

"What did you do?" He demanded, his throat dry as he looked at the man who was so much like himself but so very, very different, too.

His visitor shrugged carelessly and moved to sit in the seat opposite him, pose casual and relaxed. "What makes you think I did anything?"

Throwing the newspaper across the room with as much strength as he could muster, he glared at the newcomer. "They found the bodies. *She* led the way."

Instead of looking at the news story, his visitor simply folded it neatly and set it on the arm of the chair he was sitting in. "It doesn't mention a name."

"You and I both know who it was. What I want to know is how you got her here, and why you felt the need." Anger gave way to exhaustion and he leaned back in his chair again, weary now as he stared at his visitor. "It's been twenty years. Why couldn't you just let the past stay where it belongs?"

Again, his visitor shrugged and made a show of studying perfectly manicured fingernails in the pause between the question being asked and the answer being given. "Twenty years ago, you made me a promise," the visitor answered eventually, quietly but evenly. "You told me I could have my pick of them."

Distress and horror flickered over the older man's features at the words of the man he'd summoned to his house. "That was a long time ago. That was then. Surely you're not thinking what I think you are?"

His visitor smiled, showing gleaming white teeth. "I'm taking what's rightfully mine. What you owe me but failed to deliver."

"You're insane." He shook his head, hands clutching the arms of his chair tightly, knuckles growing white. "You're crazy. You could've left everything alone. Could've got away but now..."

"I'll still get away with it all." The smug arrogance with which the words were delivered caused his blood to boil. "I'll get away with it because you let me twenty years ago."

"You stupid idiot," he seethed, his face flushing an unhealthy purple as his hands tightened their grip even more. "You think I did that to protect you? So you could do this? Haven't you put that girl through enough?"

"Me?" His visitor stood and stalked forward until he was towering over him. "You're the one who put her there in the first place, father. You might have painted yourself as their saviour but you and I both know the truth. You may have helped get them out but only after you'd put them there in the first place."

His shadow disappeared and his footsteps sounded against the thinly carpeted floor. The same floorboard squeaked and the door closed not with an angry slam but with a measured click.

He sat in his chair and a tear rolled slowly down his age-weathered cheek.

****

"You can stay here, you know." Her sister-in-law, Claudia Sciuto, told her brightly as she watched Abby move around her old bedroom, packing a well-worn backpack with the clothes she found. "You're always welcome, Abby. Any time. We'd love to have you stay with us for a while."

While Abby thought Claudia might mean it one level, she was certain on another that the invite was given out of obligation. Claudia was aware that Abby still had owners rights on half of the house she'd made into her home, not knowing that it was Abby's intention to bequeath her share to the little blond haired girl giggling happily as she helped her Aunt stuff clothes into the backpack like it was a newly discovered game.

"I'm fine at the hotel," Abby said, throwing a smile over her shoulder at her sister-in-law to take the edge from her words. "It's easier if I'm near the others."

Claudia gave her a nod but the smile still stayed in place. "Well, maybe another time." The smile faded a little when Abby went back to packing. "He misses you, Abby. I know he'll never say it but he really does miss you."

Knowing the 'he' in question was her brother, Abby was doubtful. Nicholas Sciuto hadn't said a word to her since she'd entered the house and she hoped, belatedly, that he wasn't being too rude to Gibbs, who was waiting for her downstairs. "If he misses me, all he has to do is pick up the phone and say so. He knows that, Claudia. He's always known it."

"He's a man, Abby. Men are stubborn." Claudia heaved a long-suffering sigh. "You'll have to make the first move or no one will."

"I can't make the first move when I don't know what I did wrong in the first place." Abby was careful to keep her voice low, flashing a smile at the little girl so not to cause her any concern. Once the bag was packed, she straightened and put the strap over her shoulder before opening her arms to the little girl who started bouncing expectantly on the bed. "You get bigger every time I see you, Izzy."

The little girl grinned and shifted to plant a big, soppy kiss on her aunt's cheek in response before babbling a stream of nonsensical words that made Abby smile even though she didn't understand the majority of them.

Claudia sighed again, no doubt at the stubbornness of her husband and sister-in-law, and led the way downstairs to the living room, where the two waiting men stood in stony silence.

"I was just telling Abby she should come and stay with us sometime," Claudia announced gaily, walking across the room to join her husband in front of the fireplace. She hooked her arm through his and smiled cheerfully. "We'd love to have her stay with us, wouldn't we, Nick?"

Nick's expression didn't change. He glanced in his sister's direction but couldn't quite meet her eyes. "Yeah. Sure."

Gibbs said nothing but moved to stand beside her.

"Sure," Abby echoed. She gave her niece a final kiss before setting the little girl down on her feet, watching fondly as she tottered over to her parents. "Well, I think I've got everything I need so we'll get out of your way."

"You're sure you don't want to stay for coffee? Tea?" Claudia nudged her husband non-too-subtly in the side but Nick didn't respond. "You don't have to rush off, do you?"

"Thank you for the offer, Mrs. Sciuto," Gibbs spoke up, saving Abby from having to make an excuse. "But we've got to meet a friend of ours at the airport."

"That's right, we do." Not knowing if it was true or not, Abby led the way out of the room into the hallway. She turned around to give Claudia a quick hug and waved at her niece, who waved back from the comfort of her father's arms. "It was good seeing you again," she murmured. "Maybe next time the circumstances will be better."

"I hope so." Claudia smiled and took Isabelle from her husband's arms, standing at the doorway to wave them off as they made their way back down the path to the car parked at the curb.

Abby held back her sigh until she was in the car, her bag safely stored away in the trunk. "He couldn't even look at me," she mumbled, mostly to herself. "I wish I knew what I'd done."

Gibbs said nothing but reached across to take her hand for a few brief moments before withdrawing to start the engine.

****

The airport was busy but Abby decided to join him instead of waiting in the car. She liked to people watch and took advantage of the time they spent waiting for Doctor Donald 'Ducky' Mallard and Jimmy Palmer's plane to land to study the people milling around them.

She caught the eye of a passing stewardess and returned the smile she was given before turning her attention to a woman who squealed before throwing herself happily into the waiting arms of her partner.

"Mrs. Thomas?" The sound of a voice so close to her made her jump and Abby found herself wishing she'd stuck with Gibbs rather than staying next to the arrival's gate while he checked out the board of arriving flights. "I thought it was you. I'm so glad you're feeling better."

Abby glanced around, thinking at first the dark skinned stewardess whose name badge identified her as Julia was talking to someone else. Realising there was no one else in earshot, she fixed a smile on her face and shook her head. "I'm afraid you've got me confused with someone else. I'm not Mrs. Thomas."

Julia's brow furrowed and she studied Abby closely. "I don't have you confused, Mrs. Thomas. I know faces. You and your husband flew out from DC two nights ago. You weren't very well, of course, so I'm not surprised you don't recognise me."

Alarm bells went off in her head and Abby looked around desperately for Gibbs. "I... I was on a flight with you two nights ago?"

"Yes, you were." Julia gave her a concerned look. "Is your husband here, Mrs. Thomas? You don't look very well."

"No. I'm... I'm okay." Abby tried to smile but failed. "I..." She broke off, relief lighting her face when she spotted Gibbs coming towards her. She grabbed his arm as soon as he was within reach, fingers digging into the muscle beneath his shirt and jacket. "Gibbs, this woman - Julia - recognised me from a flight two nights ago. She said I was travelling with my husband."

"Is there some kind of problem?" Julia looked between the two of them, bewildered, and started to take a step back when Gibbs reached into his pocket. Her dark eyes widened when he showed her his badge. "What... Is there a problem, Officer?"

"It's Agent. Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS." Gibbs gently eased Abby's hand from his arm but kept her fingers encased in his own. "Abby was abducted two nights ago from Washington DC. You say you recognise her from a flight you were on, Ms...?"

"Doyle. Julia Doyle." She bit her lip and wrapped her arms around her middle. "I'm sure she was on it, Sir. With a man who said he was her husband. She was sedated but he had a note from a doctor at a local hospital saying she was ill and had been given medication to help her get through the flight." She glanced at Abby, her eyes wide. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. I didn't know... If I had..."

"You're not in any trouble," Gibbs told her soothingly. "But we're going to need any details you can give us about the man who travelled with her. A description, seat number, flight details. Anything that can help us find out who he is."

Julia nodded, her arms dropping to her sides. "I can get you the flight details, no problem. And I can get you the names of the others who were part of the cabin crew for the flight. Maybe they can tell you something I can't."

"That would be great, Ms. Doyle." Gibbs gave her a small smile and looked from her to the pale, trembling woman at his side. "It's okay, Abby." He gave her hand a squeeze. "We're getting somewhere."

Abby said nothing but scooted closer to him, her eyes wide and unblinking as she stared unseeingly at the floor at their feet. She stayed that way while Gibbs took Julia's details, stayed that way until she heard Ducky's voice asking her gently if she was okay.

Lifting her head, she stared into the kindly eyes of the medical examiner who'd become a substitute father figure in her life in the ten-plus years since she'd worked with him at NCIS. "I don't know, Ducky," she told him honestly, her voice breaking a little on the words. "I just don't know anymore."

****

"They're on to me," he announced quietly, having let himself into the house once more. His father sat in his chair as usual, staring at him, eyes wide. The old man couldn't move easily anymore, a victim of arthritis and old age in general. "I followed them to the airport and someone recognised her."

The old man averted his gaze but not before a flash of triumph was visible in his eyes. "You should have left the past where it was," he told his son wearily. "Should've let the girl move on."

"You promised her to me," his son raved, running a hand through his much-mused hair. "You promised I could have her when I was eighteen. A sample of the merchandise, you said. A reward for all the hard work, for describing them and keeping tabs on them at school."

"I was wrong," his father said simply. "I was wrong about a lot of things back then."

"It's your fault," he insisted, pacing the small room in front of his father's armchair. "You got me into this. You got me involved."

"I've regretted that every day," came the tired answer. "Every day of my life since then, I've wished I could go back and change things."

He shook his head and glared at him. "Well, you can't. I can't. What's done is done."

"It *was* done. Then you had to bring it all back." His father glared back with as much fervour as the old man could muster. "You should have let it go. You should have let her go. But no, you're a fool. A fool who's spent twenty years living in the past, dwelling on how you think it should've turned out instead of the way it was. You got too caught up in it. You should've got out when I did but no, you couldn't do that. You liked the power, the control. You ever wonder why I got out when I did, son? You ever wonder why I wanted it to stop?"

"Because you're weak," he spat bitterly, his expression derisive. "Because you realised you might get caught and it scared you. You didn't have the guts to go through with it. Not like the others. They were brave while you... You were just pathetic."

His father shook his head vehemently. "I got out because of you. Because I saw you were enjoying it, sneaking around, watching them suffer. I saw how it got to you, how much you wanted to be a part of it and I realised... I realised it was wrong. It was all wrong. They were girls with lives ahead of them, not a means to make a fortune or toys to be used in a sick game of power and control." His father's voice grew sad, drained. "I should have handed you over to the police, given myself up at the same time. If I'd known how obsessed you'd become, how ill you were..."

He didn't get to finish the sentence, the rest of his regrets going unheard.

A small pop of the silenced gun and blood streamed out from around the small hole in his father's forehead.

He stared at his father's body for several moments, taking the time to regain his composure. He walked out of the room, up the creaking stairs to the bedroom that had been his as a child, staring at his reflection as he fixed his hair and changed the blood splattered shirt for a fresh, crisp one.

The photographs he'd kept as souvenirs from the Hell House stared up at him from the old desk where he'd sat and fantasised instead of doing the homework his teachers had set him. He looked down at them, a small smile on his face as his fingers carefully sifted through them, searching the faces of the girls he'd helped find until he found the one he was looking for.

She was his age, the youngest of the girls they'd taken. He'd liked her in school but she hadn't noticed him, too caught up in her studies and her friends and her family. He'd watched her for weeks before highlighting her as a possible candidate to his father, followed her as she snuck out of the house night after night to go to either the scrap yard, which he'd never understood, or to a concert of a band whose music he couldn't stand.

He'd watched her have an argument with her parents that night, shouting and screaming things that they couldn't hear at them, no doubt repeating what she'd said with her hands.

He'd watched her sneak out of the house again, bag slung over her shoulder. Followed her to her friend's house and told his father's associates where they needed to be in order to catch her unaware.

He'd waited patiently for months, biding the time until his eighteenth birthday, until his reward.

A reward he'd had to wait for since she'd escaped just days before it had arrived, a reward that was twenty years in the making.

A reward he would soon claim as his.

****

Gibbs and Tony took charge of interviewing the cabin crew while McGee and Ziva took responsibility for getting as much information on the mysterious Mr. Thomas who'd claimed Abby was his wife and procured the CCTV footage from both the airport in DC and the airport in New Orleans to study. Ducky and Jimmy got to work with the local coroner for assistance, their task to identify the bodies they'd found through whatever means necessary.

Alone, having insisted she would be okay, Abby sat in the hotel room she was sharing with Ziva, the newspaper clippings and reports that had been left behind spread out in front of her. She read and re-read every word, reliving it all, remembering the way it had felt, smelt, the way everything had sounded.

She read the articles about each of the missing girls, herself included. Read statements from their parents and friends, transcripts of press conferences in which they'd begged for the safe return of their daughters. Read a short interview with the man who'd found them in the woods and led them to safety, a reluctant hero, the papers said.

There was no pattern in the way the girls looked or the interests they had. There'd been an assortment of blonds, redheads, brunettes and black-haired girls who'd been abducted. She remembered the conversation she'd overhead, about clients and specifications and girls taken to order.

Her stomach rolled at what those clients had wanted them for and she took a deep breath, fighting the near-overwhelming wave of nausea that crashed over her.

She'd survived, she reminded herself. She'd gotten away before she'd had to find out first-hand.

Still, that didn't stop the images from spinning in her mind, the possibilities she knew she'd narrowly escaped. Working in her chosen field had educated her further in the ways of the world, in the darker parts of it most liked to pretend didn't exist. She knew how lucky she was to have escaped the way she had and never forgot that, especially not when they were dealing with a case that was so similar to her own.

She wondered if the team would start to treat her differently through those cases because they knew the truth. She hoped not, hating the thought of them treading on eggshells around her, treating her like she was something fragile and easily broken.

When the telephone in the room rang, Abby jumped, her heart beating unsteadily in her chest. She shook her head at herself and reached for the offending item, taking a deep breath before answering it. "Hello?"

"It's me, Abby," Tony's voice came through the speakers clearly. "We think we've got a break in the case. I'm heading over to pick you up."

"What kind of break?" Her hand tightened on the receiver. "Tony?"

"We think we've identified the guy who brought you here," Tony told her quietly. "Gibbs is taking Ziva and McGee to bring him in now but he thought you'd want to be here. Maybe you'll remember something..."

Abby nodded, and then remembered he couldn't see her through the phone. "I would, yeah. I'll see you soon, Tony."

"Be there in five minutes, Abs." Tony hung up without saying goodbye, a habit he'd picked up from Gibbs, Abby knew.

She paced the room restlessly, alternately wrapping her arms around her waist then letting them hang loosely at her sides. Questions ran through her mind at lightning speed, too fast for her to make sense of them.

She tried sitting down but couldn't stay still for long, jumping up as soon as she heard the knock on the door to her room. Abby swung the door open, the words tumbling from her mouth. "Tony! That was the fastest five minutes, well, it felt like fifty but... You're not Tony."

The man on the other side of the door smiled at her gamely. He was immaculately dressed, his hair perfectly in place, his smile blinding and his eyes twinkling. "Hello, Abigail. It's been a long time."

****

drama, gen, story: unbreakable, case-file, angst, friendship, fic: ncis, rated: fr-18, multi-part

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