Fade Out - R - Tony/Abby - OneShot (Part One of Two)
Title: Fade Out
Category: NCIS
Rating: R
Genre: Angst/Tragedy/Romance
Ship: Tony/Abby
Warning(s): Substance Abuse, Dark Themes, Character Death
Word Count: 6,013
Summary: He's just going through the motions until he can end this whole mess.
Fade Out
-1/2-
When work ended, they all looked at him like they wanted to say something, like they'd been mulling over the "right words" for awhile now but just couldn't quite vocalize them.
McGee looked to Ziva who stared back and together, their eyes passed toward him. Gibbs stayed busy at his desk, mulling over papers, his brows furrowed. While the others were constantly trying to figure him out, it seemed Gibbs had no opinion and was often seen ignoring any distance in his ranks.
Tony lifted a hand to say goodbye and walked to the elevator, not bothering to wait around for them to get out whatever heartfelt crap they might've thought up this time.
His usual careless demeanor might put them off for awhile but in a few days they would no doubt have some other bright idea and he would have to find away around it too. They'd been looking for a way to get him out of his funk since it happened and they hadn't seen any results for their efforts. Every day, they came up with some other way to get his attention, trying and failing to get the reaction they wanted.
If she were around, she'd tell him they only cared about him, that they wanted the best for him, that they were worried and he should try to understand where they were coming from. She'd hug him tight and sigh, "To-nyyyyy…" and he would've given in, because it was her. But she wasn't there and whether or not he could hear her voice in his head didn't matter.
He picked up a bottle of whisky on the drive home, the same kind his father had practically lived off of. There was a bitterness that surrounded the very idea of imbibing anything the senior DiNozzo had but he was too angry to care anymore. He parked his car next to hers in the drive; no doubt somebody would remind him he had no need for a second car, let alone a hearse, and he should just get rid of it already. But as far as he was concerned it needed to be there. It was one of the few things he had left of her and he wasn't giving up one single memory.
The door slammed behind him and with a quick turn of the lock, he kicked off his Italian shoes and made his way to the living room. He didn't bother with the lights; he knew the layout well enough and bringing everything into focus, from the pictures on the walls to her long black trench coat hanging just above her spare combat boots would only make the ache worse.
There was yet another frozen casserole, courtesy of Ducky, in the fridge that he could heat up but he wasn't hungry; hadn't felt the urge for food in longer than he could remember. Oh he still ate, for appearance sake if nothing else. But walking into the kitchen was always accompanied by an assault on his mind. Of nights where she used to sit at the very edge of the counter in her absurd looking nightgown and bonnet while he rifled through the fridge for something to snack on. "Ooh! Ooh! Whip cream!" she would cry, clapping her hands. Her messy black ponytails making her appear far too innocent for the activities she had in mind involving said whip cream.
He couldn't even drink his coffee in there, not when he remembered her vividly sitting cross legged on the stool with a bowl of cocoa puffs in her hands while she watched morning cartoons. "You're never too old for Bugs Bunny, Tony!" she'd remind him when he couldn't help but smile and shake his head.
So he stuck to the living room with the TV, his bottle of Macallan 18 and a blanket to curl up in when he eventually passed out on the couch, a throbbing headache and eyes that burned his nightly reward. This was his life now; outside of work, this was what he did. She'd be appalled. She'd have dragged him out of the house and forced him back into regular life, even if meant going to classic movies that her favored metal concerts. But she wasn't there to clean him up or give him the kick in the butt to get him going again. So he continued on as is, wishing it hurt a little less and knowing it wouldn't. Ever.
He grabbed the remote off the coffee table and flicked it at the TV where it continued from the beginning; a continuous loop, never truly ending.
-Fade In.-
A confused expression was plain to see on Tony's face as he stared into the camera lens. "Is it on?"
"The red light says it is," she called out brightly. "I told you to read the instructions!"
"Real men don't need instructions, Abs." He sighed. "We just know how to do these things."
"Then why don't you know if it's on?"
He frowned. "I'm pretty sure it is."
The focus turned left to right, fumbled and zoomed in and out as it was quickly turned around before finally focusing in on a grinning Abby Scuito, sitting amidst a pile of wrapping paper, newly torn to shreds. "Well?" she asked before fluffing her messy pigtails dramatically. "How do I look?"
With a laugh he zoomed in on her chest, currently covered in modest flannel pajamas.
"Tony! That's not how Casablanca started!"
"I wouldn't have complained if it had," he returned easily.
"Yes, you would have," she said knowingly, hands stuffed on her hips. Just as quickly as she reprimanded him, she was back to smiling. "So? How do you like it?"
"I love it, Abs. It's… Incredible!"
A warm flush spread across her cheeks, making her look even paler than usual. "I knew it! I told Gibbs!"
The camera panned around the living room, taking in the tall green tree covered in classic red and silver balls while simultaneously invaded by miniature vampire Santa's and gothic tributes per Abby's request. Various gifts were left wherever they'd been opened and cheesy Christmas music played in the background, no doubt hurting Abby's musical taste by the second. And there in the center of it all was her; wearing floppy black reindeer slippers and a charming grin.
"Now you can make your own classic movie!" she exclaimed, green eyes glittering with excitement.
"And who will star in it?" he asked, zooming in on her once more. "Will you play the lady love?"
Tilting her head up, she raised a brow. "Is this just another way to get me into my Monroe dress?"
"Of course." When she giggled, he added, "But what DiNozzo special would be complete without Abby Scuito playing the lead?" Lifting up to his knees, he crawled toward her, zooming in and out for comic relief.
Laughing, she leaned back on her elbows and stared up at him admiringly. "I dunno… It better have a great script!"
"I'll write it myself," he declared proudly. "It'll have action, drama, hilarity and of course…" He paused for effect, "Various sex scenes of extreme passion."
She laughed brightly. "I think we could manage that."
He sighed dramatically. "It'll take time, effort, and a lot of skill, but… I think we can do it!"
"I'm with you, Director," she agreed with a nod of superior amusement.
"Wonderful. Now take off that flannel monstrosity and get ready for your close-up, Miss Scuito!"
With a shriek of laughter, she shook her head as his hand appeared, reaching for the buttons of her top. The camera turned away, finding a blurred fireplace in the process. Their low tones and chuckling could be heard before he fumbled with the buttons. "How do I turn this thing off?"
"Where'd I put the instructions?" she wondered.
"Blasphemy, Scuito! Pure blasphemy!"
-Fade Out-
With a clenched jaw, Tony turned the cap on his bottle with a vicious twist of his wrist before sinking lower in the couch and knocking back a swig, taking no delight in the burn of his throat. He closed his eyes when tears began to bite at them; when emotion welled thick in his chest.
He needed to dull everything; he needed for it all to stop for just a minute. The depression, the loneliness, the misery that crept from every corner, ready to consume him. He wished he could fall back on old habits; paste on a smile and pretend all was good, easy. Instead, he was stuck feeling like a mannequin, his expression stiff, lacking, his every movement something more out of necessity than a desire to live or breathe or move. It was like he was put on slow-motion, his body still functioning but everything else was just stuck.
He took another drag of his whiskey, not surprised when it was tasteless; it hardly gave him a buzz anymore. He'd fallen on it like a crutch, much like the father he still despised.
-Fade In-
"Look!" Tony's voice cried from the screen. "Abs! I found the button that records in black and white!"
Abby stepped into view, smiling. "How's it look?"
He lifted the camera to her face before turning it an inch to the left and then righting it once more. "I wonder if…" A moment later, while the view was still black and white, red had been added to the color scheme and Abby's lips came vividly into view. "There!"
Her brow furrowed curiously. "What?"
"Huh? Oh, nothing, I just got it right where I want it…"
Her eyes narrowed. "Can you see down my shirt from there?" she wondered, craning her head down to see if any cleavage was showing.
He chuckled. "Nope. It's all PG on this end."
She smiled. "Good. So… Now that you have your toy to play with I'm gonna get back to what I was doing." Motioning behind her with her thumb, she turned on her combat boot heel to leave.
"It's no fun playing by myself!" he whined, following after her. "What are you doing?"
Entering Abby's home office, he panned the camera around her unusual surroundings, zooming in on Bert the collared, farting hippo before returning to Abby.
"Gibbs sent me a few things to work on at home."
Tony sighed loud and dramatically. "Because you don't get enough of that at work."
"It'll only take an hour or two," she encouraged, looking up at him with big green eyes. "And besides, shouldn't you be working on your script?"
"Nope, I've decided this will be a natural piece, all real people, real emotion…" he drawled with passionate intensity.
"Writer's block, huh?"
"Yeah, I got nothing," he admitted drily. "Everything I think of is already a movie."
"You'll think of something," she assured.
"That's just it. I have!"
"The real-life thing?" She pursed her lips. "Is it going to involve others? Because you should know that with all those sex scenes you have planned, I haven't been with a woman since college and I'm a little rusty!"
"Well that's an image that isn't going anywhere anytime soon," he muttered under his breath.
"Hmm?" she asked distractedly as she typed at her computer.
"All I'm saying is…" He paused for effect, "You see, this is my life, it always will be. There's nothing else… just us and the cameras and those wonderful people out there in the dark."
"Mm…" She turned her eyes up thoughtfully. "Oh! Okay, uh… Sunset Boulevard!"
"Ah, 1950, good year," he sighed.
"Agreed, now… As soon as I get this done I propose dessert!"
"We haven't had dinner yet," he reminded, cluelessly.
She grinned up at him. "Exactly."
"Oh, right…" He cleared his throat. "Now that's a deal I can't refuse."
"I've still got it!" she cheered before returning to her work.
Tony left her office, looked around and then turned the camera toward himself and with a serious face, he declared, "Everybody! Everybody wants a piece of me!"
"The Hustler! 1961!" Abby shouted to him from her office.
With a soft grin, he told the camera, "I love that woman!"
The view blurred before turning black.
The phone rang in the background, ignored while Tony continued to wallow on the couch, feet up on the table and blanket tossed over his legs to keep the chill out. By now, he'd usually hear her scurrying across the room, usually on her tiptoes as if it somehow made the people on the other end know she was on her way, as fast as she could. Or if she was still wearing her boots, the clomp would echo throughout the house as she cried, "Just wait! Just wait! I'm almost there!"
It was three more rings - no footsteps, no cheerful cries for patience - before the answering machine finally picked up.
"Hey!" her voice cheered loudly. "You've reached Abby and Tony Scuito, we're not home right now and-"
"Abs!" he interrupted quickly. "You can't give me your last name! Makes me sound feminine!"
"It's archaic for me to take your last name, Tony!"
"It wasn't when we got married," he reminded, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"I wasn't thinking straight! The bodice on my dress was incredibly tight!"
"Oh, I remember," he mused.
"There was a lack of oxygen getting to my brain and for a moment I made a decision without thinking it thorough. Had I, I would've suggested hyphenating. However, now that all is said and done, this is my last resort!"
"Slowly convincing our friends and family I took your last name is your last resort?"
"Yup!"
"I happen to like my last name," he said, chuckling.
"Oh, I do too! But using it would be against my nature… So I'm sorry, Mr. Scuito, but you've been feminized."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Back up the feminizing train here, Abs. Tony Scu-" He cleared his throat. "DiNozzo! Is all man!"
"Aw, I know that … But for reasons your pride won't let you understand, I have to do this!" With a sigh, she said, " Now… You've reached the Scuitos-"
"DiNozzos!" Tony shouted in the background.
"Please leave a message after the beep and we'll get back to you when we can… Oh, unless this is Gibbs, then you should've called our cell phones! Or McGee!"
"McGeek!"
"Or Ziva!"
Silence.
"No comeback for that, Tony?" she wondered, chuckling.
"I didn't want to make you a widow, Abs; I was only looking out for you!"
"Mmhmm, right. Ooh, or if this is Ducky or Palmer, you should call our cell phones too… You know, I'm starting to realize that most of the people who call us are from work… Is that a bad sign?"
"No, black cats are bad signs, this is just having a strong work ethic," Tony argued. "The length of this message, however, is a little much…"
"I like it!"
"We should hang up now."
"Fine… Mr. Scuito!"
"Abs!"
BEEEPPP!
There was a sigh, short, heavy, and Tony nearly reached for the phone. But he knew who it was and he wasn't ready to talk to him yet. It was a few seconds, as if he might've just been waiting. Finally, he hung up, and Tony returned to the TV once more. He wondered sometimes, if he only called to hear the message too. There were two reasons Tony didn't pick up; one, because he didn't want to talk to anybody unless absolutely necessary, and two, because he liked that message. Even if it was entirely too long and implied he was either whipped or justly feminized. He liked her voice and his and just like his home movies, it was memories caught in time, forever recorded for him to listen to and watch over and over again.
If Ziva were to figure that out, she'd no doubt say something along the lines of, "In my country, when a man loses his wife he- insert custom here that Tony would either disagree with entirely or tune out." Unless it involved self-sacrifice. That was looking mighty interesting lately. Maybe there was some ancient ritual where he fell down on his sword all heroic like… Or wait, wasn't that because they disgraced their family or their name or something? Okay, maybe not the best idea. A guillotine then? Messy, yes, but what a way to go… Then again, he could imagine the clean-up afterwards and the team coming in. He tried to muster some sympathy for them but the Macallan was starting to kick in and his senses were dulling. There was nothing but that ache in his chest that never lightened or vanished.
-Fade In-
"Hey, psst… Ziva!" The dark curly hair in front of him only moved side-to-side as if the Mossad officer was shaking her head at him. "Ziiiivaaaaaa…" he drawled annoyingly. "ZivaZivaZiva!"
"What?" she exclaimed, turning around irritably. Glaring, she stuffed her hands on her black dress shrouded hips. "Shouldn't you be dressing in your wedding clothes and waiting at the end of the hall to meet your wife?"
"It's an aisle and she's my bride, not my wife… yet."
She rolled her eyes impatiently. "And?"
"And I can't hold the camera up there!"
"Oh…" She half-smiled. "You want me to then?"
"Pfft! No!" he declared. "As if I'd give you my baby! You'd probably lose your patience with it and lock it in some closet until the wedding was over."
She stared at him, blinked, and then lifted a brow. "What is your point, Tony?"
"I can't find McGeek, you seen him?"
"You are going to trust McGee with your precious video camera but not me?" she wondered, affronted.
"Skinny little bobble-head he may be, but he at least knows how to use a camera without trying to interrogate instructions out of it."
"I know how to use the camera." She held her hand out. "Give it to me and I will get everything that you want."
"Uh, no," he said, shaking the camera side to side with him. "Now, you gonna tell me where McGoo is or do I hafta leave Abby waiting while I go searching?"
"Give. Me. The. Camera!" she ordered, staring at him.
"Noooo."
"Tony!"
Suddenly the camera turned around as the groom began running. Rushing down hallways, he turned the lens around to face him and panting with wide-eyes he dramatically declared, "In case this is my last entry, let it be known that I'm not afraid of Ziva… I'm running because I don't want to disappoint Abby by having our wedding become a funeral!" He grinned before looking over his shoulder. "And Abby, if you're watching this… Do you see what I'm doing for you? I have to be the greatest husband there ever-"
A loud shout sounded before the camera tilted and scattered across the floor, the image upside down as Ziva tackled Tony to the ground, one of her hands around his throat, pinning him to the floor.
"I am perfectly capable of filming your wedding!" she exclaimed.
"You're. Choking. Me!"
"Admit it!"
"Ckkkkkk!"
"Say I am capable!"
"You're. Cert-i-fi-able!"
Her brows furrowed as if she wasn't sure what that meant.
"Ziva? Tony?" McGee stepped into view. "What are you doing? The wedding starts in less than five minutes."
"He! He said I could not film his wedding!"
McGee blinked. "Did you want to?"
"Well… no, but…"
"Can't. Breathe," Tony choked out, going red in the face.
"Oh, yes, right." Clearing her throat, Ziva released him from her chokehold and stood up. "I think I will go see Abby. She may want to back out of this wedding and I must tell her I have contacts to help her get away if needed." Narrowing her eyes, she glared back at Tony before walking away.
Gasping, Tony shook his head. "Where the hell were you before Ziva went crazy?"
"High school?" he suggested with a half-smile.
Snorting, Tony stood up. "Good one. And guess what your reward is, McGeek?" Grabbing up the camera, he turned it right side up and pushed it into Tim's chest, camera lens up enough that it caught their faces. "Don't mess it up!"
"Or what?" he scoffed.
"Or I'll sic Abby on you," he said simply, grinning.
Tim paled.
-Fade Out-
Tony closed his eyes momentarily, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his eyes. A headache began to form and the heated prickling at his eyes made him swallow tightly. He clenched his jaw; his best defense against the emotions that were all too present in his daily life. It was all he ever did lately; bottle it up, shut others out, fake it every day.
I'm fine.
I'm recovering.
I don't need anybody to check up on me.
Just a few of his usual responses when people started asking questions, started showing concern.
But he wasn't fine. Not by a long shot.
He wasn't recovering and he wasn't sure he wanted to.
And yeah, he didn't need them to check up, but that was partly because if they walked into the house they'd see the home videos, the mess, his make-shift bed on the couch, and they'd question his sanity, they'd kick him off the job, they'd have him in counseling so quickly his head would spin.
He couldn't have that. He wouldn't. All he had left was the job and he needed to do it; he needed that distraction. He needed to see this case through to the end, even if they told him he wasn't allowed to be a part of it; not really. Even if they all went quiet when he came into the office or they hid folders from him or turned screens off, unwilling to let him see the progress they'd made. Because they could look at him and see just the goofy guy he'd always acted like and assume that he wasn't capable of figuring these things out on his own, but while they were solving this case without him, he was doing it behind the scenes just as quickly and easily without their help.
Desk-duty was not his favorite job, but as long as it kept him at work, as long as he still had all the resources he needed, it was all that mattered.
-Fade In-
In charge of the camera, Tim zoomed in to see Abby as she stepped through a black rose archway to stand at the beginning of the aisle in a vivid red lace wedding dress. Black hair tied back in a tousled style that fit her and still managed to look formal enough for the wedding, she grinned, looking both the bride and the gothic beauty they knew her as. Stepping forward, Gibbs held his arm out for her to take and with each of them smiling, he walked her slowly down the aisle. Turning to look at her, Abby's 'silver-haired fox' grinned, squeezed her hand, and gave her an approving nod.
Turning the camera, Tim found Tony at the front, his smile wide and excited. Dressed in a white tuxedo with a red handkerchief in his pocket and a red silk tie, his hand held his opposite wrist, arms in front of him as he waited for his bride. It was content, so honest and pure, that lit up Tony's face. Joy that he was marrying this unusual and wonderful woman.
"Never thought he'd get married," Tim mumbled, just loud enough that the mic on the camera caught it.
Very few had. In fact, up until Abby, even Tony would probably have agreed that he wasn't the committing, let alone marrying, type. But then Abby came along and while there had only been friendship for a long time when their relationship had grown into something else things changed, became clearer, and it was obvious that this was not the same playboy-type DiNozzo most had known him as. This was the goofy but loving guy that Abby Scuito was more than willing to marry and that Tony was happy to be.
As Gibbs held Abby's hand out for Tony to take, he gave him a good, long stare and instinctively Tony's shoulders lifted as if he expected to be slapped in the back of the head.
With a grin, Gibbs shook his head and then took his place just to the right of Tony, as best man of all things.
Giggling, Abby took Tony's hands in hers. "Do you see this dress?" she asked him, wiggling her hips. "Can you believe it was on sale?"
With a snort, Tony looked down at her long, retro lace dress in blood red, a tight, accentuating bodice that flared out at her hips and hugged all the way up to her impressive cleavage with puffy sleeves on either of her arms that kept slipping down. "It's very you, Abs!"
"Isn't it?" She hopped over to stand center with him and the minister. "All right! Let's get this show on the road, Padre!"
The crowd of watchers laughed lightly.
Tony gave the minister a nod, grinning at his bride.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to bare witness to the holy union between Anthony Michael DiNozzo and Abigail Pauley Scuito. As today is only one in a great many they will share, we begin by acknowledging that their matrimony will be one of great love, understanding and unlimited friendship.
"Marriage is a bond unbreakable, so long as two souls come together with the strength and trust that they will stand by one another, through thick and thin, that they will love each other, in sickness and in health, and that they will stay true in heart and body, no matter the circumstance. This commitment they make is not to be taken lightly, as they admit their bond to one another, so do they admit to us that they not only are they in love but that they believe their futures are only made whole with each other.
"Because both Anthony and Abigail have written their own vows, I ask them now to recite their promise to each other…"
Tony never removed his eyes from her. "I hereby promise that I will love, honor and cherish you every day of my life. I promise that I will personally polish your dog collars, buy you black nail polish when you run out, make tampon runs despite my complete confusion every time I walk down that aisle, and that no matter the circumstance, I will always be there to take care of you. I will love your pigtails and your red lipstick and your combat boots even when they crush my toes and scuff my very expensive Italian shoes…" He sighed faux-mournfully. "And I will forever thank whatever cosmic force brought you into my life." Turning, he glanced at Gibbs who, with a half-smile, held aloft a ring. "Thanks, Boss," he said, taking the silver band and turning back to lift Abby's fingerless-lace-gloved hand, sliding her ring on. "I, Anthony DiNozzo, take you, Abigail Scuito, to be my wedded wife, from now until forever."
Sniffling, Abby shook her head, "To-ny!" she cried, "That was really sweet!"
He laughed under his breath. "It is our wedding, Abs. I thought I'd break out the charm a little."
"A little?" she asked incredulously. "That was like mondo-charming!"
"Well, thank you," he said, smirking. "You got anything you'd like to say?"
"Well, yeah! But now I'm pretty sure I've been outdone." Socking his shoulder, she sighed. "Okay…" Taking a deep-breath, she grinned. "I had to write it down, 'cause I didn't want to forget anything." Digging into the small purse that hung off her wrist by a string, she produced a cue card. "Tony," she read, looking up from her speech to him. "I never believed in things like The One and loving someone so much and so deeply that I could spend an entire lifetime with them and not regret a moment. But… In between classic movie nights and dancing at Goth clubs, DiNozzo specialty pastas and Scuito's horribly burned mystery meals, I realized that how we don't fit makes us, well, fit." She sniffled, grinning. "You're Label and I'm Basement, and I would never change that. I would trade in ever collar I own just to spend one more day with your smile and your laughter and knowing that I am your Abs. So I take you! I take you and I give myself in return. I, Abigail Scuito, take you, Anthony DiNozzo, to be my everything, my husband, and my best friend, from now until we're old, wrinkly, and smell of denture glue!"
Tony nodded, closing his eyes tightly before he lifted her hands and kissed her knuckles sweetly.
"Oh! And I got you a ring!" she exclaimed, turning quickly to look at Ziva, holding her palms out in wait.
Producing the ring, Ziva nodded shortly and handed it to her. "There you go."
"Thanks!" Cheerfully, she turned back and slid his ring on his finger before tapping it. "You're mine now!"
Linking their fingers, he nodded. "And you're mine."
"By the powers vested in me by the state of Washington, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife," the minister announced, smiling at Tony. "You may kiss your bride!"
"Make it a good one, DiNozzo!" Abby told him.
"As if I'm capable of anything less," he muttered arrogantly, wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her close, her body tight to his own.
"Well, there was that one time when-"
Her voice was muffled as his mouth descended on hers, their lips slanting together. Eyes falling closed on a sigh, Abby slid her hands up his chest and around his neck, fingers threading into his short hair. With a grin, Tony cupped her neck for balance as he turned her sideways and dipped her, never breaking their kiss. With a shriek of laughter, she kicked a leg up and held on.
The crowd behind them of friends and family stood up and cheered.
Drawing back from their kiss, they grinned at each other. And with a light chuckle, Abby reached up and wiped the black lipstick from its smeared place across Tony's mouth. Hands linked, they stepped down to meet handshakes and hugs from friends and family.
"I really think they'll make it," Tim said aloud.
"They will," Gibbs said knowingly as he stepped up next to him. "I got a gut feeling."
-Fade Out-
Tony lifted his half-empty bottle of Macallan to the screen in mock salute. "Where was your gut then, huh?" he slurred angrily, eyes narrowing. "Where was the infamous Gibbs gut when she needed it? When she-" His throat thickened then, hollowing painfully, as emotion was starkly burning its way upward, filling his eyes.
He needed to blame somebody and usually it was Gibbs. But it wasn't his boss's fault, not really. She's been in her Labby, rocking out to her ear-bleeding music, mind set solely on the case at hand. When a man, 6'7 and approximately 195 lbs, dressed in all black, had snuck in and shot her twice, point-blank, in the chest with a black .45, silencer equipped. He was there and gone so quickly, the only shot they had of him was when he killed her. There was no footage of him arriving or leaving, nothing of his face as he wore a ski mask, as clichéd as it was. Just that at 3:06 pm, on November 9th, 2014, a man had walked in, shot and killed Abigail DiNozzo, and left.
Thirty seconds of recorded footage; half a minute to watch his wife as she turned toward the unexpected guest, her expression twisting from curiosity to dread, and then - snap! snap! - and she was gone. Bouncing off the desk as she stumbled back from the force of the bullets, she fell to the floor, her hand reaching for the bloody holes in her chest cavity before she simply slumped to one side and stopped breathing.
It was exactly twenty-three minutes later when she was found; no chance of resuscitation. Leroy Jethro Gibbs entered the lab, saw her there, dropped his coffee and crossed the room in a split-second, falling to his knees at her side, checking her pulse, and knowing there was no chance… She was gone.
Remembering, replaying the footage in his head, a tear slipped down Tony's unmoving, unemotional face; one of a million before it.
-Fade In-
"I don't get it!" she harrumphed, stomping her foot. "Cooking should be like science. There's measuring and precision and I should be very, very awesome at it!"
The camera zoomed in on Abby staring down into a pot that bubbled, an unusual liquid below.
"What is that?" Tony wondered.
"It was supposed to be a romantic dinner made by yours truly." She stuck her lower-lip out in a pout. "But now I think it might make me a widow." She smiled slowly. "On the bright side, I have just the outfit for your funeral!"
"That's… great, Abs," Tony offered, somewhere between amused and offended. "I'm glad you gave it some thought."
"Oh!" She looked up, big green eyes wide and apologetic. "I didn't mean it that way!" She shook her head. "Although, to be honest, with your line of work, I think I'll outlive you…"
"Hey! We work at the same place!"
"Yes… but look at your list of enemies compared to mine," she reminded, shrugging.
"True, but…still." Reaching across her, he grabbed the take-out menus from the fridge and fanned them out. "Who wants something that won't kill your way awesome husband?"
"I do! I do!" she cried, holding a hand up as she grinned at the camera, her green eyes glittering with mirth.
"Okay… Italian or Chinese?"
She smirked. "I thought the answer to that was pretty obvious."
He snorted. "Good answer… I knew there was a reason I married you."
She feigned confusion. "You mean besides how ridiculously fantastic I am?"
"Well, yeah…" he exclaimed, nodding the camera along with him.
She chuckled, rolling her eyes. "I'm calling for pasta," she told him, reaching for the phone. "You… have the next forty-five minutes to convince me our sex tape won't leak."
"What sex tape? We don't have a-" He paused. "Oh-ho-ho," he laughed happily. "I like the way you think, Mrs. DiNozzo."
She winked at him. "Time's a wastin', Tony…" She dialed the phone, wiggling her eyebrows.
"Okay. Okay… Costumes first… Where'd you put the Marilyn Monroe dress?" When she opened her mouth to reply, he interrupted, "No. Never mind. Our first video debut should be au naturale!" He snapped his lips. "Prepare to have your world rocked."
With a laugh, her eyes fell, "Yes, can I get a double order of your… Rigatoni con pollo e vodka?" she asked, chewing her lip as she waited. "Yes, and extra shitake mushrooms in both, please… Mmhmm, that's us… 'Kay, forty to fifty minutes?" She smirked over at him. "Perfect." Hanging up, she dropped the phone back on its stand.
"Oooh, I love it when you talk Italian," he growled.
She grinned back at him. "Yeah…? Penne," she said with a forced accent. "Gnocci…"
"Rawr!" he exclaimed exuberantly before dropping the camera to the counter and gathering her up into his arms, burying his mouth in her neck to kiss and tease her.
Laughing, her eyes fluttered. "Più, Anthony…" she whimpered, reaching for his shirt to drag it from the waist of his pants. "Venire qui, mio Stallone Italiano!"
He chuckled against her neck and lifted his head, meeting her eyes. "Il mio adore… Mio dolce Abigail…" He dragged his fingers through her hair affectionately. "Per sempre."
"Per sempre," she repeated before tugging on his collar and dragging him down, their mouths slanting.
Kissing her, he absently reached out to shove the camera in the opposite direction. Their laughter and a cry of pleasure from her was recorded just before it faded out.
Two weeks, three days, and seven hours, he thought. Exactly how long since she died; since his life was turned upside down.
[Next: Part 2/2.]
***
Italian to English Translations
Più, Anthony… - More, Anthony.
Venire qui, mio Stallone Italiano! - Come here, my Italian Stallion
Il mio adore… Mio dolce Abigail. - My love. My sweet Abigail.
Per sempre - For always.