thehappyfangirl | "Safe", an NCIS fanfic, Gibbs/Abby

Title: Safe
Rating: PG-13
Category: A bit of angst, romance
Genre: Het
Pairing: Gibbs/Abby
Summary: Gibbs's thoughts during Driven before the elevator doors opened...and a little bit after.
Spoilers: Hiatus, Driven, slight references to Bloodbath and Frame-Up
Disclaimer: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.

My first NCIS fic! Feedback is welcomed with open arms and cookies.

Gibbs jabbed his finger at the elevator button that would take him down to the evidence cage. He'd needed a fresh cup of coffee on the way back from Fairfax after he'd heard what, and who, Tony and Ziva had found at Lieutenant Seabrook's apartment. Maybe the relationship between the Lieutenant and the mechanic had been a consensual one, but he couldn't get his jaw to unclench as the elevator hummed its way down.

Maybe it was because he could still feel Seabrook's eyelids under his fingers when he'd closed them at the crime scene, or the fall of her red hair on the grey concrete floor.

Did she cry out for anyone?

I'm sorry, Sergeant Gibbs...there was a shooting...they died in the crash.

Did they suffer? Did they cry out for anyone--

him

--in their last moments?

The levels of CO in her blood, five times the fatal dose...she was probably rendered unconscious in less than thirty seconds.

Were they aware? Awake?

Did they say goodbye to each other? To him?

He wasn't there.

He wasn't there to save them.

Suck it up, Marine. You have a job to do.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as the elevator doors slid open--

--and looked up to see Abby in a car full of exhaust, her voice hoarse as she cried out to him for help.

It won't open! The kill switch...

Cover your face!

He held tight as he pulled her warm, living weight from the Humvee. Didn't let her go until she explained that a deliberate act almost killed her as the smell of spilled coffee and exhaust lingered in the air.

Almost. Too many almosts.

Ari. Mikel. Spooner's hitman. Chip. Now he had Otto to add to the list.

Later that night, he curled his arm just a little tighter around her as he settled in to sleep. Now she smelled faintly of soap and the gentle musk of afterglow, and he hung onto that scent and the memory of her kneeling above him. Warm, living weight, forgiveness the way only Abby could bestow as she brushed the tears from both their cheeks.

He pressed a kiss into her hair, watched her smile in her sleep.

I'll keep you safe, Abby. I promise.

Cross-posted to