(no subject)
Yay! Very very excited about this!
Abby's prognosis is revealed. Tony and Abby share a sweet little moment. Gibbs? Well, he's up to something strange.
Just as the target got into his car, Gibbs looked away from the scope and up into Abby’s face.
Perched high up in a tree, Gibbs could feel the skin on the back of his neck burn, a tiny sliver between his helmet and the collar of his uniform. Hidden in the foliage, he’d been sitting in the crook of two branches for several hours, three hundred meters outside the compound of his target. Intel indicated that a weapons dealer and the money-man behind several terrorists bombings lived just beyond the gates, and his carefully selected tree looked directly into the lot. His M40A1 rested on the branch that snaked in front of him, ready to be used the minute the target came into view.
Ignoring the wolf-spider that crawled past his arm, he looked through the scope as men started to leave the main building. His target appeared, walking towards the car that waited in the drive. Looking through the crosshairs, he lined up the shot. About to pull the trigger, her felt something brush his finger. With the window of firing opportunity decreasing, he ignored the spider crawling along the back of his hand. Focusing on the task at hand, he kept his hand steady and let the spider do what it may, but something tugged at his finger again. It seemed to be moving all over his hand at once, and the spider had been too small for that.
Not knowing what he was doing, his hand moved away from the trigger.
Just as the target got into his car, Gibbs looked away from the scope and up into Abby’s face.
. . . .
She blinked at him imploringly, her hand gripping his tightly, pulling on his index finger, the panic in her eyes obvious.
“Gib?” her voice was crackly, still recovering from the trauma of having tubes stuck down it.
“Abby?” He stood up, and brushed her forehead gently, ignoring the stiffness in his arm from having slept on it. “Abby, say something.”
She blinked confusedly, her breathing slow as she struggled to find a rhythm. “Hink-ey.” There was a pause between the two syllables, as she breathed in.
He rolled his eyes, but his smile was getting larger. “Abby, say a real word.”
“It is.” She blinked enough times to work a scowl onto her features.
He knew it was to her, and that was enough. Reaching forward, he pressed the button on the wall to call a nurse before brushing her bangs to the side of her face, out of her eyes.
He sighed with relief, resting his temple against hers gently. Pulling back reluctantly when the sound of feet approached, he turned as the nurse came into the room.
. . . .
News of Abby’s waking up spread like wildfire. It wasn’t long before the team was prowling the halls, waiting for her to get back from the never ending barrage of tests. Jen had promised to visit after work, and Tony came with the task of delivering the best wishes of the office.
Even though she’d been able to communicate with Gibbs upon waking up, there had still been a lot to determine.
Ducky had been sent off to liaise with the Doctors, but Gibbs’ announcement that she could tell a circle from a square and could name more than four animals that started with H had people in high hopes. Ducky’s confirmation, complete with an exasperated sigh at his long-time friend; that she had suffered no neurological damage, was met with cheers. Recovery would take time, and she would have to be monitored for a while, but she was on the right path.
. . . .
Tony tried to walk past Abby’s door as inconspicuously as possible. He, McGee and Ziva had been taking turns walking past her room, hoping to catch some of what was going on inside. Abby and Gibbs had been talking for twenty minutes, but their conversation was quiet, Gibbs’ mouth pressed close to her ear as he sat beside her on her bed.
Just as Tony reached to high-five McGee at the end of the corridor, as he’d taken to doing when the Probie was about to take his turn, Gibbs called out and the three agents all but ran to attention.
“Yes, boss?”
Gibbs raised an eyebrow. “I’m going home to take a shower and change. Just thought you ought to know, seeing as you’re trying to record this conversation for posterity.”
Tony nodded guiltily, knowing they hadn’t been very convincing in their reconnaissance.
Gibbs stood, kissed Abby’s cheek and made his way to the door. With a gentle nod, he beckoned Tony outside into the hallway.
Following, adjusting his tie, he came to stand in front of his boss.
“What’s up?”
Gibbs shrugged his jacket on. “Take care of her, DiNozzo. You know Abby, she won’t even realize she’s tired until she gets too tired. She won’t admit to anything either.”
“Of course.” He made to walk back into her room, but felt a hand on his elbow.
“Tony. Take care of her.” His tone was serious.
“I will boss. I will.” He nodded slowly, the look in his eye nothing but seriousness.
Gibbs patted him on the arm in thanks before making his way down the corridor.
Tony re-entered Abby’s room just in time to see Ziva tentatively, gently curl her hand around Abby’s wrist. McGee was saying something about making Forensic Scientist Amy Sutton the hero and female protagonist of his next book, which made Abby laugh.
Her laugh quickly developed into a dreadful cough. Stepping forward, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “My minions, the quest I put before you is most dangerous, but I have faith in your abilities. Operation-Ice-Chip-Retrieval-From-Scary-German-Nurse is now active and looking for volunteers. Oh, I guess that’s you.” He pointed to McGee and Ziva. “Scatter.”
Glaring at him, they made their way past him and out into the corridor.
Between coughs, Abby managed to splutter out that she didn’t really want ice-chips.
Tony sat beside her and slipped his arms very gently around her. He was surprised at just how slim Abby was; beneath her usual multiple, spiky layers was a delicate form. One hand on her side, one on the small of her back, he helped her sit up, resting her against his chest and head on his shoulder.
Careful not to press against the bullet wound and surrounding stitches from where the doctors had operated, not to mention the tubes, he sat her in a position where she could catch her breath.
She sighed deeply. “Where’d you learn how to do that?”
Pulling away and settling her gently back into her pillows, he smiled. “An old nanny. Rosita-Louisa. I got pneumonia when I was eight, and she took care of me. She told me not to play in the snow, but did I listen?”
‘You come from a nanny family? I might just have to review my file on you, Anthony DiNozzo.”
“What file, you little sleuth?”
“Well, if I told you I wouldn’t be a very good sleuth then, would I? I can’t raise my arms at the moment, but picture me tapping my nose in all manner of creepy.”
Tony wiggled his eyebrows. “Instruction acknowledged, master.”
. . . .
After getting a few hours shut-eye, a wash and a shave, Gibbs went round to Abby’s place to pick a few things up. As ever, he was bowled over by the amount of stuff she had, not to mention…well, the stuff she had, but he managed to find what he was after. A few pairs of baggy pants and tops, some knickers, (which he’d say Ziva had found), some toiletries, (which four wives or no still conjured up images he didn’t want to deal with) and some slippers, which for some reason he’d found in the fridge when he’d gone to clean out the perishables.
With an easy nod to the staff, he walked what was now a familiar route to Abby’s room, only to find McGee, Ziva and Jen standing in the corridor looking unsettled. A weight started to settle low in his stomach. He hadn’t felt this coming.
“What’s wrong?”
Jen turned to him. “Relax, Jethro. Abby was just a bit sick. They removed some of the tubes and it made her a little nauseated.”
Gibbs nodded, breathing deeply. “Where’s Tony?”
“In there.” She pointed to the room, an eyebrow raised in warning. “He was just telling the nurses, very politely, that he was not leaving Abby’s room. Something about his boss drumming up extradition papers, which lead to a very interesting explanation to the security guard that he was not in fact a criminal, but a federal agent of the United States, the country he was born in.”
Gibbs had the good graces to look to her left for a second, before catching her gaze again. Making his way to the door, he was relieved to see that Abby had settled down. Beckoning to Tony, he opened the door wider to let his 21C through into the hallway.
“I want you to start on the case. I’ve let things slip. Ducky and Palmer are at the office, Ziva and McGee will leave with you.”
Tony blinked, the responsibility he was being given a shock. “Boss, don’t you want to lead this one?”
Gibbs looked him in the eye. “I will, but not yet. I have to be here at the moment. I need you to start this.”
Nodding, somewhat solemnly, Tony went back into the room and spoke quietly to Ziva and McGee. The three of them formed a line, said goodbye to Abby with kisses and made their way past Gibbs in the corridor.
Stepping into Abby's room and shutting the door gently, Gibbs dropped the bag with Abby’s stuff into the corner of the room, startled to find the bloodied windbreaker that he’d stashed there a few days before. Ignoring it as best he could, he moved the bag to another corner and sat down in his chair by her bed.
“Hey, Gibbs.”
He shushed her. “No, talking. Sleep.”
She smiled gratefully and closed her eyes, her hand seeking his.
. . . .
Holding his P-90 in front of him, his rifle slung over his arm by a sturdy strap and buckled to his back, Gibbs made his way through the abandoned town. The area was a hotspot, and a USMC platoon was about to move in to make it a base. Gibbs had been sent ahead to establish sniper observation sites for the platoon sniper. The dust coated everything, and as he moved, brushing along the broken walls for whatever protection they could give him, his uniform collected a lot of it. The quiet was eerie, people’s washing still hooked out to catch the sun, long since dry.
Ducking behind a door when he heard a noise, he stilled. Quiet returned, before the noise sounded again. Someone, a woman, was crying. Creeping out of the house and doubling back to cross the street where there was cover, he made his way to the noise. A ruse was not out of the question. Finding the location of the whimpering, he nudged the door of a house open with a foot.
A woman, in her thirties was lying on the floor. A cut on her stomach was bleeding profusely and she looked up at him in fear. Clearing the room, Gibbs knelt beside her and tried to signal that he was going to help her. He reached into his vest for the bandage that was rolled up tightly into a pocket.
Unwinding it, he looked up, at Abby.
. . . .
Slipping out of his chair quickly and quietly, Gibbs sat on the bed beside Abby, taking her gently into his arms as she cried into his shoulder.
Abby's prognosis is revealed. Tony and Abby share a sweet little moment. Gibbs? Well, he's up to something strange.
Just as the target got into his car, Gibbs looked away from the scope and up into Abby’s face.
Perched high up in a tree, Gibbs could feel the skin on the back of his neck burn, a tiny sliver between his helmet and the collar of his uniform. Hidden in the foliage, he’d been sitting in the crook of two branches for several hours, three hundred meters outside the compound of his target. Intel indicated that a weapons dealer and the money-man behind several terrorists bombings lived just beyond the gates, and his carefully selected tree looked directly into the lot. His M40A1 rested on the branch that snaked in front of him, ready to be used the minute the target came into view.
Ignoring the wolf-spider that crawled past his arm, he looked through the scope as men started to leave the main building. His target appeared, walking towards the car that waited in the drive. Looking through the crosshairs, he lined up the shot. About to pull the trigger, her felt something brush his finger. With the window of firing opportunity decreasing, he ignored the spider crawling along the back of his hand. Focusing on the task at hand, he kept his hand steady and let the spider do what it may, but something tugged at his finger again. It seemed to be moving all over his hand at once, and the spider had been too small for that.
Not knowing what he was doing, his hand moved away from the trigger.
Just as the target got into his car, Gibbs looked away from the scope and up into Abby’s face.
. . . .
She blinked at him imploringly, her hand gripping his tightly, pulling on his index finger, the panic in her eyes obvious.
“Gib?” her voice was crackly, still recovering from the trauma of having tubes stuck down it.
“Abby?” He stood up, and brushed her forehead gently, ignoring the stiffness in his arm from having slept on it. “Abby, say something.”
She blinked confusedly, her breathing slow as she struggled to find a rhythm. “Hink-ey.” There was a pause between the two syllables, as she breathed in.
He rolled his eyes, but his smile was getting larger. “Abby, say a real word.”
“It is.” She blinked enough times to work a scowl onto her features.
He knew it was to her, and that was enough. Reaching forward, he pressed the button on the wall to call a nurse before brushing her bangs to the side of her face, out of her eyes.
He sighed with relief, resting his temple against hers gently. Pulling back reluctantly when the sound of feet approached, he turned as the nurse came into the room.
. . . .
News of Abby’s waking up spread like wildfire. It wasn’t long before the team was prowling the halls, waiting for her to get back from the never ending barrage of tests. Jen had promised to visit after work, and Tony came with the task of delivering the best wishes of the office.
Even though she’d been able to communicate with Gibbs upon waking up, there had still been a lot to determine.
Ducky had been sent off to liaise with the Doctors, but Gibbs’ announcement that she could tell a circle from a square and could name more than four animals that started with H had people in high hopes. Ducky’s confirmation, complete with an exasperated sigh at his long-time friend; that she had suffered no neurological damage, was met with cheers. Recovery would take time, and she would have to be monitored for a while, but she was on the right path.
. . . .
Tony tried to walk past Abby’s door as inconspicuously as possible. He, McGee and Ziva had been taking turns walking past her room, hoping to catch some of what was going on inside. Abby and Gibbs had been talking for twenty minutes, but their conversation was quiet, Gibbs’ mouth pressed close to her ear as he sat beside her on her bed.
Just as Tony reached to high-five McGee at the end of the corridor, as he’d taken to doing when the Probie was about to take his turn, Gibbs called out and the three agents all but ran to attention.
“Yes, boss?”
Gibbs raised an eyebrow. “I’m going home to take a shower and change. Just thought you ought to know, seeing as you’re trying to record this conversation for posterity.”
Tony nodded guiltily, knowing they hadn’t been very convincing in their reconnaissance.
Gibbs stood, kissed Abby’s cheek and made his way to the door. With a gentle nod, he beckoned Tony outside into the hallway.
Following, adjusting his tie, he came to stand in front of his boss.
“What’s up?”
Gibbs shrugged his jacket on. “Take care of her, DiNozzo. You know Abby, she won’t even realize she’s tired until she gets too tired. She won’t admit to anything either.”
“Of course.” He made to walk back into her room, but felt a hand on his elbow.
“Tony. Take care of her.” His tone was serious.
“I will boss. I will.” He nodded slowly, the look in his eye nothing but seriousness.
Gibbs patted him on the arm in thanks before making his way down the corridor.
Tony re-entered Abby’s room just in time to see Ziva tentatively, gently curl her hand around Abby’s wrist. McGee was saying something about making Forensic Scientist Amy Sutton the hero and female protagonist of his next book, which made Abby laugh.
Her laugh quickly developed into a dreadful cough. Stepping forward, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “My minions, the quest I put before you is most dangerous, but I have faith in your abilities. Operation-Ice-Chip-Retrieval-From-Scary-German-Nurse is now active and looking for volunteers. Oh, I guess that’s you.” He pointed to McGee and Ziva. “Scatter.”
Glaring at him, they made their way past him and out into the corridor.
Between coughs, Abby managed to splutter out that she didn’t really want ice-chips.
Tony sat beside her and slipped his arms very gently around her. He was surprised at just how slim Abby was; beneath her usual multiple, spiky layers was a delicate form. One hand on her side, one on the small of her back, he helped her sit up, resting her against his chest and head on his shoulder.
Careful not to press against the bullet wound and surrounding stitches from where the doctors had operated, not to mention the tubes, he sat her in a position where she could catch her breath.
She sighed deeply. “Where’d you learn how to do that?”
Pulling away and settling her gently back into her pillows, he smiled. “An old nanny. Rosita-Louisa. I got pneumonia when I was eight, and she took care of me. She told me not to play in the snow, but did I listen?”
‘You come from a nanny family? I might just have to review my file on you, Anthony DiNozzo.”
“What file, you little sleuth?”
“Well, if I told you I wouldn’t be a very good sleuth then, would I? I can’t raise my arms at the moment, but picture me tapping my nose in all manner of creepy.”
Tony wiggled his eyebrows. “Instruction acknowledged, master.”
. . . .
After getting a few hours shut-eye, a wash and a shave, Gibbs went round to Abby’s place to pick a few things up. As ever, he was bowled over by the amount of stuff she had, not to mention…well, the stuff she had, but he managed to find what he was after. A few pairs of baggy pants and tops, some knickers, (which he’d say Ziva had found), some toiletries, (which four wives or no still conjured up images he didn’t want to deal with) and some slippers, which for some reason he’d found in the fridge when he’d gone to clean out the perishables.
With an easy nod to the staff, he walked what was now a familiar route to Abby’s room, only to find McGee, Ziva and Jen standing in the corridor looking unsettled. A weight started to settle low in his stomach. He hadn’t felt this coming.
“What’s wrong?”
Jen turned to him. “Relax, Jethro. Abby was just a bit sick. They removed some of the tubes and it made her a little nauseated.”
Gibbs nodded, breathing deeply. “Where’s Tony?”
“In there.” She pointed to the room, an eyebrow raised in warning. “He was just telling the nurses, very politely, that he was not leaving Abby’s room. Something about his boss drumming up extradition papers, which lead to a very interesting explanation to the security guard that he was not in fact a criminal, but a federal agent of the United States, the country he was born in.”
Gibbs had the good graces to look to her left for a second, before catching her gaze again. Making his way to the door, he was relieved to see that Abby had settled down. Beckoning to Tony, he opened the door wider to let his 21C through into the hallway.
“I want you to start on the case. I’ve let things slip. Ducky and Palmer are at the office, Ziva and McGee will leave with you.”
Tony blinked, the responsibility he was being given a shock. “Boss, don’t you want to lead this one?”
Gibbs looked him in the eye. “I will, but not yet. I have to be here at the moment. I need you to start this.”
Nodding, somewhat solemnly, Tony went back into the room and spoke quietly to Ziva and McGee. The three of them formed a line, said goodbye to Abby with kisses and made their way past Gibbs in the corridor.
Stepping into Abby's room and shutting the door gently, Gibbs dropped the bag with Abby’s stuff into the corner of the room, startled to find the bloodied windbreaker that he’d stashed there a few days before. Ignoring it as best he could, he moved the bag to another corner and sat down in his chair by her bed.
“Hey, Gibbs.”
He shushed her. “No, talking. Sleep.”
She smiled gratefully and closed her eyes, her hand seeking his.
. . . .
Holding his P-90 in front of him, his rifle slung over his arm by a sturdy strap and buckled to his back, Gibbs made his way through the abandoned town. The area was a hotspot, and a USMC platoon was about to move in to make it a base. Gibbs had been sent ahead to establish sniper observation sites for the platoon sniper. The dust coated everything, and as he moved, brushing along the broken walls for whatever protection they could give him, his uniform collected a lot of it. The quiet was eerie, people’s washing still hooked out to catch the sun, long since dry.
Ducking behind a door when he heard a noise, he stilled. Quiet returned, before the noise sounded again. Someone, a woman, was crying. Creeping out of the house and doubling back to cross the street where there was cover, he made his way to the noise. A ruse was not out of the question. Finding the location of the whimpering, he nudged the door of a house open with a foot.
A woman, in her thirties was lying on the floor. A cut on her stomach was bleeding profusely and she looked up at him in fear. Clearing the room, Gibbs knelt beside her and tried to signal that he was going to help her. He reached into his vest for the bandage that was rolled up tightly into a pocket.
Unwinding it, he looked up, at Abby.
. . . .
Slipping out of his chair quickly and quietly, Gibbs sat on the bed beside Abby, taking her gently into his arms as she cried into his shoulder.