Chapter 4

Trying to give Mike an encouraging smile, trying to show him that she was as okay as she was telling everyone, Abby shrugged out of his coat and handed it back to him. "Thanks Mike. I'll see you back at NCIS, right? You'll let me know when you need me for ... for the interrogation?" She took a deep breath to steady the nerves that threatened to bust out of her.

"I'll call you, Abby," Mike promised, wishing he didn't have to call on her, even though he knew he needed her input. "Go with DiNozzo, get some of that caffeine stuff. Get ready for a long night of work." His eyes flicked over her outfit. "Swing by your place if you wanna get a change of clothes."

It was pure protectiveness, but Mike didn't want her dressed like that in front of the dirtbag. He didn't want the guy looking at her curves or her cleavage. No man needed to see her like that, much less this dirtbag drug addict/possible jewel thief.

"Thanks, Mike ... for everything." Moving next to Tony, she turned around and said, "I don't need to go back to my place. I always keep a set of clothes and stuff at NCIS in case I have a court date and need out of those ridiculous clothes, or for just in case."

"I'll get started on processing the facial recognition of him ... him and the rest that you and Ziva captured. Do you want me to run his prints too? Can Tony take them? I'm not quite ready to see him again." Waiting for Tony to move, she slowly opened the door and slid out.

Taking a final drink of her Caf-Pow, she sighed. "Tony, can we pick up some more?" she asked, shaking her empty cup. "I think I'm going to need it. I think I'm going to need a lot of it. One for the processing, and at least another one for the interrogation. Hm ... maybe two."

"DiNozzo, get the discs from Ziva. We'll print him at the Navy Yard." Mike squeezed Abby's hand very gently and motioned her to leave with a soft, "go on, Girlie."

"I'll take prints," Tony said though he never had done them before. Having seen them done would have to be enough though. He wasn't exposing Abby to him any more than she absolutely had to be, especially given the fact that she had some kind of connection to this creep. And it was a connection none of them wanted her to have. It was dangerous, both for her heart ... and soul.

"Tony, you know better than that. You know it has to be someone trained, or the prints will be inadmissible in court. It will have to be me, Tony. You know that," she reminded him quietly, realizing that it was the only way. "When we're back at NCIS, I will take them. When we're interrogating him, I'll print him. Kill two birds with one stone, right? Still gonna need Caf-Pow, Tony. Lots of Caf-Pow."

"Might have to be, but I don't have to like it, Abbs. We'll be there with you, one of us. You never have to be alone with that dirtbag again. Don't know what he did to you but we're gonna make him pay, Abbs. Whatever else he did, he's gonna pay for hurting you."

This look of vulnerability wasn't a good one on her. It didn't suit her any more than the neck without the spiderweb did. That tattoo had been a part of her for so long that he already missed it. He understood that she wanted to get rid of it and that it was created when she was a teenager, but she just didn't seem to be Abby without it. He wasn't used to it being gone yet.

And her eyes shouldn't be glimmering like that with tears and sadness.

"Aw, Tony. You're a real sweetie. You may strut around with a too cool attitude, but you really are just a softie at heart." Giving him a watery smile that was meant to make him feel at ease, she added, "And I won't be alone in interrogation, right, Mike? You're gonna be there. And I bet Tony, McGee and Ziva will be behind the glass. I won't be alone, Tony. I'll have my family there."

Tony flushed when she called him a sweetie and shrugged. "You're my best friend," he answered, as if that explained everything. And it did to an extent. He loved her and would protect her at any cost. "We'll watch out for ya, Abbs. It's what we do."

"And you're mine, Tony. But that's not what you do. You guys are NCIS Special Agents, not Abby Sciuto's personal guard dogs against actions or choices she makes that may cause her more harm than good. But I do appreciate my guard dogs, I really do."

"We're good guard dogs. And we even bring Caf-Pow."

"Damn right you won't be alone. DiNozzo can be in with ya while ya print the dirtbag then he can sit and wait until I'm good and ready to question him. Might be a while." Mike gave Abby a smile that was a little cruel. She knew he'd made his suspects wait for hours at times before questioning them, getting them when they were tired and irritable and their natural defenses were down. And this one had probably drunk some stuff inside the party. He'd get vulnerable sooner than a perfectly sober man. Too bad they couldn't get him right back and into questioning.

"Abby? How much he drink? You remember?"

"You guys are cute in your overprotective ways. To drink? Maybe a glass and a half. But I have no idea what he'd had before then. Could've been a lot, could've been not at all." He could've had me, she thought with a disappointed sigh. She shivered again as she remembered his touch, on her throat, on her thigh, against the wall. It wasn't fair that someone she was so attracted to was someone she helped arrest.

"Did he seem sober?" Mike asked, knowing his gaze was sharpening. "Could we have an advantage in interrogation, Abby?" Mike barely resisted the urge to rush her, knowing she was a little fragile and not at all herself right now.

God, yes, he was sober. Made me drunk off of his soberness, his kisses, his touch, his ... stop it! Abby was pretty sure she was going to go crazy if she didn't have a little time to work this all out on her own. Taking a breath, she said, "Yeah, he seemed sober, sober enough in any case. And I don't see how that's going to help in the interrogation, unless it's 'cause he has to pee."

"Lowered inhibitions, easier to get off balance." Mike knew Abby had learned this at FLETC, but she didn't seem able to remember her training right now. "Easier to control the flow of conversation. Easier to lull into a false sense of security. Abby..." Mike could see from the wildness in her eyes that she was done. She needed to come down from this in her own way and that probably involved that caffeinated crap that made her extra hyper.

For some reason, she fed off being hyper, her concentration growing the more she absorbed that syrupy crap. It looked disgusting and smelled even worse and Mike Franks was a lot of things but he wasn't fool enough to taste it.

"Get her a couple of those Caf-Pows on me, DiNozzo."

"Yeah, Mike. I know. I'm just ... tired. It's been a long day. A few Caf-Pows, and I'll be myself again," she said, trying to reassure them both.

"You heard the boss, Tony. Caf-Pows. Lots of Caf-Pow. One for the ride home, one or two for the interrogation, and who knows how many for the times in between and after!"

She knew she probably didn't have to remind him; the whole team knew about her Caf-Pow obsession. But it didn't hurt to give them little reminders every now and then.

Good thing the Caf-Pow machine at work was usually full. Tony gave her a smile, feeling completely relieved when she asked for more Caf-Pow. He'd give her the moon and the stars right now if it got her back on even ground.

"Come on, Abbs," he said, coming around to her side and opening the door. Assuming she'd go right to the car, Tony went to the back of the van and opened the door.

Though she finally had her trembling under control, she knew that it would be awhile before her mind followed suit. Not really thinking clearly, Abby proceeded to follow Tony, not realizing where he was headed. But once he opened the door, she couldn't stop herself and came up behind him. She had to know he was all right; she had to see it for herself that he was uninjured. Why this was such a big deal for her, she still didn't understand.

"Timmy, Ziva, Dirtbag," Tony greeted, glad to see the guy was kind of subdued. "Got something for me, Ziva?" He motioned to the digital recorder. "Our Abbs is gonna run her magic in case this dirtbag is lying about who he is."

Abby stumbled a step when she saw him, bound up and on the floor. Grabbing Tony's arm to catch herself, she bit back the need to protest his treatment. How could such a vibrant man, someone so full of life that everything around him drained of color, be trussed up and tossed on the floor like garbage. Abby knew, somehow, that it had been Tony who had done the trussing and the tossing.

She looked him over, trying to see if had sustained any injuries. There was a growing bruise on his temple. And from Tony's earlier statement, she guessed correctly that it had been her friend who did that to the prisoner.

"Abbs! What the hell! Get over to my car right now. You don't need to be here!" Tony tried to shoulder her aside but she wasn't budging and he let out an internal sigh at that. Tony turned and glared at her, giving her a dirty look, wondering what she was thinking. "Abby, don't do this. Step away, Abbs. Step far away. You have to deal with him later, don't invite this right now. Do not allow him to rattle you."

But she wasn't listening, digging in, the Caf-Pow cup left forgotten and swinging in her loosened fingers before it slipped to the ground, the ice within clinking and rattling. But Abby was too focused on the creep to even notice what had happened.

"Abbs..." Tony whispered the plea, knowing he couldn't force her to move until she was ready.

Abby blinked and shook her head, trying to clear her mind. Vaguely, she heard Tony admonish her, heard him tell her to go to the car. Seeing Jet in the back of the van, she couldn't leave, not yet. Stepping even closer to him, more in the range of the people in the van, she said, "I am not a child, DiNozzo. You don't get to tell me what to do."

Absently, she looked down at her foot, feeling a cold, wet sensation. Seeing a melting ice cube on her heel-clad foot, she looked at it curiously, wondering how it got there. Seeing the empty, opened cup, Abby realized she must have dropped it. Swooping down, she righted the discarded Caf-Pow before standing back up again, intending on picking it up before she left. Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet the man lying on the van floor.

Jet's eyes widened as the traitor stepped up behind the guy. He gave her a wink and a smirk, rattling the cuffs a little. He didn't say a word, knowing her imagination would paint a brighter picture than his words. And he wanted her shaken up. Few women rattled him like this one had and he hated that she'd gotten one over on him.

Her cheeks lit up crimson again as images blasted through her overactive imagination, images of her being the one cuffed with Jet standing over her, dominant, in charge. Visions of naked, undulating skin, roughened hands against soft flesh, bodies surging, moans, pants, bites and screams, all threatened to overwhelm her.

When she met his eyes, he licked his tongue over his lower lip slowly, promising something that had been over before it had begun. As annoyed as he was about her part in this, he was glad she didn't seem to be in danger.

God, she was beautiful when she blushed. Jet's expression turned more serious now. "You okay? These thugs hurt you?" He wanted to ask what her part in this was but he knew he didn't really want to know the answer. He had been trapped far too easily. It shouldn't have been that simple and it just proved what he knew. He couldn't let his guard down around women. They all screwed ya in the end.

Abby almost laughed when he called Tony and Tim thugs, knowing they were anything but. "No, they didn't hurt me. They wouldn't think to," she replied quietly. She wanted to talk to him, was almost desperate to talk to him, to ask him the same. Instead, she didn't realize her hands were moving slightly, signing what she could not say. Are you all right? Did they hurt you? I'm sorry.

She did that sometimes, signed when she was ... not herself. Since no one had ever been able to read her, she had never had to worry about it in the past. She was alone with that talent amongst the team. So, she could sign in whatever state put her off her game; nervous, excited, overwhelmed, upset. All her emotions seemed to come out in her hands.

She signed? He had a way to communicate with her that the others didn't seem to understand or chide her for? This could be a good advantage. He gave her a slight shrug, looking at her hands and then meeting her eyes, arching one brow. He couldn't outright answer her without tipping the scales, but he'd file this information away and use it later.