Plans, for celtic_turtle
Aug. 20th, 2010 05:55 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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ncisficathonTitle: Plans
Author: dannica webb
Written for:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
celtic_turtle
Prompt: Gibbs/Abby, a terrorism/bomb/biohazard threat, Gibbs or Abby (or both) in danger. Can involve other members of the team. Angst, hurt/comfort.
Archive: Upon request (email dannica.webb@gmail.com for permission).
Genre: Het
Pairings: Gibbs/Abby
Rating: FR-13
Disclaimer: If I owned NCIS, I wouldn't be this poor. Trust me. Also, there'd be Gabby smut.
Word Count: 1135
Summary: Gibbs and Abby are trapped inside the forensics lab when a bomb explodes at NCIS. With no knowledge of what's going on outside, they have only one another and the faintest hope of rescue.
He didn't take her to church on Sunday.
This is, absurdly, the first logical thought not related to their immediate survival that comes to Gibbs's mind after the dust has settled and he is huddled next to Abby on the floor of the lab, her head in his lap. They've gone together every weekend since well before they began dating.
He should have taken her to church.
The emergency lighting bathes them in a dim yellow glow, illuminating the pile of rubble he spent a good thirty minutes trying to shift before Abby demanded he save his strength. Then it flickers and goes out.
Abby curses under her breath. "There goes my theory that the blast was localized," she says out loud, her voice breaking slightly from pain. One arm is still crossed over her bruised stomach.
Gibbs suddenly feels nauseous, but he's not sure if it's brought on by his probable concussion or the memory of the force of the explosion slinging her across the room like a ragdoll. Every time he closes his eyes he sees it, so he keeps them open, scanning the room repeatedly, trying to think of anything that will get them out of here.
Just like the last eighteen-odd times, he doesn't see a goddamn thing.
"I'm sorry," he says. "If we don't make it out of here - "
"Shut up," Abby mutters. "You don'tÂ… get to break the rules just because you're scared, Gibbs. Besides, I'm like a cat. I have nine lives. At least." She makes a sound which could be a chuckle or a cough, and a little blood escapes the corner of her mouth.
Everything he knows about internal bleeding - and the relative lack of field trauma treatment for it - tells him that not making it out is a very likely possibility for her, if not for him. A litany of Catholic prayers from his childhood - Jack would be proud - stumbles brokenly through his exhausted, caffeine-wired brain. It's not that Gibbs minds church, but he usually goes with Abby because she loves it, not out of some deep-seated need to commune with the Divine or receive absolution for his sins.
After Shannon and Kelly died, a well-meaning distant relative dropped off a book about the stages of grief, and one night he was even drunk enough to open it. He's pretty sure this is the bargaining stage hitting him across the head with all the delicacy of a battering ram.
The Hail Mary is already forming on his lips, shortly behind it a Dear God, take me instead. He knows from experience how little use those are, though. Repeated them over and over again, all the way from a hospital in Kuwait to a graveside in Stillwater, and no angels came down to help him. He doesn't say it aloud because Abby has gotten progressively more pissed off at him every time he hints at the gravity of their situation, but he repeats it to himself, using that and the pain to focus.
"We're going to make it out. Tim and Tony know we're down here. And I owe Tony a rematch at movie trivia challenge."
That elicits a small smile from him. "We need to be realistic, Abbs."
She rolls her eyes, then focuses her gaze on his face, pushing the words out with some effort. "Realistically, your minor concussion is clearly screwing with your reasoning skills. So stop with the declarations. You can tell me later when my head doesn't hurt so bad."
He leans his head back against the wall, his hand winding its way through her hair. His watch was damaged by some debris, and he is quickly losing track of how long they've been trapped. It's quiet except for the sound of her labored breathing.
He's not sure when he realizes she's shaking. She's already wrapped up in everything he could find, and there's nothing else he can do to stave off shock, but he reaches down to grab one of her hands and squeezes. "Stay with me, Abbs."
"Not going a - anywhere," she mutters, the words slightly slurred. She demanded early on that he not break the 'never lie to Abby' rule, but doesn't seem to apply a similar rule to herself when speaking with other people. It's one of her more infuriating quirks. "Already planned how'm gonna go out. This definitely isn't on the list, well, mostly."
Against his better judgment, he's about to ask what is on the list, but he's silenced when she tells him to shut up again. "I think I hear something," she says.
"It's your ears ringing from that awful noise you blast all the - " Gibbs starts, but then he hears it, too.
It's the sound of rocks being shifted. And voices.
---
Gibbs never imagined the sound of DiNozzo and McGee arguing would be so welcome, but much, much later in the hospital, he thinks he may have thanked them for it in his drugged state, and resolves to distribute an extra helping of headslaps just in case they get any ideas.
But mostly he waits for Abby to wake up and be moved out of ICU, and when she does, he sneaks into her room when the nurses are gone and pulls back the sheets because he won't be able to close his eyes until he sees that she is really, truly alright.
She wakes up sometime during his examination and surveys his deer-in-headlights look with a raised eyebrow. "I should ring the nurse and claim sexual harassment," she says thoughtfully.
"You wouldn't," he counters.
"You're right." She grins and follows with a, "as long as you kiss me. And bring me a Caf-Pow! tomorrow! I'm so sick of jello."
"Blackmail," he accuses, but kisses her anyway, and then kisses her again just to remind himself that he can, that she's still all here in one piece.
He sits down in the chair next to the bed and leans over, intertwining her fingers with his. Her eyes are closed and he's almost afraid she's fallen back to sleep when he remembers what he was going to ask.
"Hmm?" she murmurs into the still darkness of the room.
"How were you planning to go out?" he repeats. "Just for future reference."
She chews thoughtfully on her lower lip for a moment before responding. "At a concert. Preferably in the mosh pit. With you. That's why I said mostly," she adds, almost as an afterthought.
It startles a laugh out of him as he lays his head down by their clasped hands. "No problem, then. No way I'm ever gonna go with you to one of those things."
He thinks he hears an "I told you so" but he's too far gone over that border between sleeping and waking to really tell.
Author: dannica webb
Written for:
celtic_turtle Prompt: Gibbs/Abby, a terrorism/bomb/biohazard threat, Gibbs or Abby (or both) in danger. Can involve other members of the team. Angst, hurt/comfort.
Archive: Upon request (email dannica.webb@gmail.com for permission).
Genre: Het
Pairings: Gibbs/Abby
Rating: FR-13
Disclaimer: If I owned NCIS, I wouldn't be this poor. Trust me. Also, there'd be Gabby smut.
Word Count: 1135
Summary: Gibbs and Abby are trapped inside the forensics lab when a bomb explodes at NCIS. With no knowledge of what's going on outside, they have only one another and the faintest hope of rescue.
He didn't take her to church on Sunday.
This is, absurdly, the first logical thought not related to their immediate survival that comes to Gibbs's mind after the dust has settled and he is huddled next to Abby on the floor of the lab, her head in his lap. They've gone together every weekend since well before they began dating.
He should have taken her to church.
The emergency lighting bathes them in a dim yellow glow, illuminating the pile of rubble he spent a good thirty minutes trying to shift before Abby demanded he save his strength. Then it flickers and goes out.
Abby curses under her breath. "There goes my theory that the blast was localized," she says out loud, her voice breaking slightly from pain. One arm is still crossed over her bruised stomach.
Gibbs suddenly feels nauseous, but he's not sure if it's brought on by his probable concussion or the memory of the force of the explosion slinging her across the room like a ragdoll. Every time he closes his eyes he sees it, so he keeps them open, scanning the room repeatedly, trying to think of anything that will get them out of here.
Just like the last eighteen-odd times, he doesn't see a goddamn thing.
"I'm sorry," he says. "If we don't make it out of here - "
"Shut up," Abby mutters. "You don'tÂ… get to break the rules just because you're scared, Gibbs. Besides, I'm like a cat. I have nine lives. At least." She makes a sound which could be a chuckle or a cough, and a little blood escapes the corner of her mouth.
Everything he knows about internal bleeding - and the relative lack of field trauma treatment for it - tells him that not making it out is a very likely possibility for her, if not for him. A litany of Catholic prayers from his childhood - Jack would be proud - stumbles brokenly through his exhausted, caffeine-wired brain. It's not that Gibbs minds church, but he usually goes with Abby because she loves it, not out of some deep-seated need to commune with the Divine or receive absolution for his sins.
After Shannon and Kelly died, a well-meaning distant relative dropped off a book about the stages of grief, and one night he was even drunk enough to open it. He's pretty sure this is the bargaining stage hitting him across the head with all the delicacy of a battering ram.
The Hail Mary is already forming on his lips, shortly behind it a Dear God, take me instead. He knows from experience how little use those are, though. Repeated them over and over again, all the way from a hospital in Kuwait to a graveside in Stillwater, and no angels came down to help him. He doesn't say it aloud because Abby has gotten progressively more pissed off at him every time he hints at the gravity of their situation, but he repeats it to himself, using that and the pain to focus.
"We're going to make it out. Tim and Tony know we're down here. And I owe Tony a rematch at movie trivia challenge."
That elicits a small smile from him. "We need to be realistic, Abbs."
She rolls her eyes, then focuses her gaze on his face, pushing the words out with some effort. "Realistically, your minor concussion is clearly screwing with your reasoning skills. So stop with the declarations. You can tell me later when my head doesn't hurt so bad."
He leans his head back against the wall, his hand winding its way through her hair. His watch was damaged by some debris, and he is quickly losing track of how long they've been trapped. It's quiet except for the sound of her labored breathing.
He's not sure when he realizes she's shaking. She's already wrapped up in everything he could find, and there's nothing else he can do to stave off shock, but he reaches down to grab one of her hands and squeezes. "Stay with me, Abbs."
"Not going a - anywhere," she mutters, the words slightly slurred. She demanded early on that he not break the 'never lie to Abby' rule, but doesn't seem to apply a similar rule to herself when speaking with other people. It's one of her more infuriating quirks. "Already planned how'm gonna go out. This definitely isn't on the list, well, mostly."
Against his better judgment, he's about to ask what is on the list, but he's silenced when she tells him to shut up again. "I think I hear something," she says.
"It's your ears ringing from that awful noise you blast all the - " Gibbs starts, but then he hears it, too.
It's the sound of rocks being shifted. And voices.
---
Gibbs never imagined the sound of DiNozzo and McGee arguing would be so welcome, but much, much later in the hospital, he thinks he may have thanked them for it in his drugged state, and resolves to distribute an extra helping of headslaps just in case they get any ideas.
But mostly he waits for Abby to wake up and be moved out of ICU, and when she does, he sneaks into her room when the nurses are gone and pulls back the sheets because he won't be able to close his eyes until he sees that she is really, truly alright.
She wakes up sometime during his examination and surveys his deer-in-headlights look with a raised eyebrow. "I should ring the nurse and claim sexual harassment," she says thoughtfully.
"You wouldn't," he counters.
"You're right." She grins and follows with a, "as long as you kiss me. And bring me a Caf-Pow! tomorrow! I'm so sick of jello."
"Blackmail," he accuses, but kisses her anyway, and then kisses her again just to remind himself that he can, that she's still all here in one piece.
He sits down in the chair next to the bed and leans over, intertwining her fingers with his. Her eyes are closed and he's almost afraid she's fallen back to sleep when he remembers what he was going to ask.
"Hmm?" she murmurs into the still darkness of the room.
"How were you planning to go out?" he repeats. "Just for future reference."
She chews thoughtfully on her lower lip for a moment before responding. "At a concert. Preferably in the mosh pit. With you. That's why I said mostly," she adds, almost as an afterthought.
It startles a laugh out of him as he lays his head down by their clasped hands. "No problem, then. No way I'm ever gonna go with you to one of those things."
He thinks he hears an "I told you so" but he's too far gone over that border between sleeping and waking to really tell.
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