1. Disappearing Act
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It wasn't like he'd been labouring under an illusion that work was being done. So, when Fornell marched back down from the Director's office with his entourage and all of Gibbs' agents were studies in disinterested nonchalance, he was hardly surprised. Neither could he prevent a certain smugness entering his expression as the FBI and Friends bore down on him wearing universally grim frowns.
"Oh, this must be serious," he observed, a smirk in his voice.
Fornell's frown deepened, the crease of consternation between his furrowed eyebrows practically a chasm.
"It is," Fornell inclined his head slightly, "You'll think so too when I tell you what it concerns."
Gibbs leaned back, spreading his hands, "You waiting for me to announce you or...?" he ticked his head toward the elevator, his chin raised in silent question.
Fornell dropped a closed file onto Gibbs' desk, "You'll want your team in on this."
Their heads came up like a pack of prairie dogs, their faces asking him whether they should close ranks. Gibbs made a subtle gesture that kept them in their seats, but they were no longer pretending not to hang on every word of the conversation. He nodded for the delegation from the Bureau to continue.
"Two men recently escaped from supermax security at Mississippi State Penitentiary. They were members of an elite mercenary club, real exclusive: ran guns, drugs, hostages, technology, you name it- they did it. Anything anyone was willing to pay for, they were willing to get. They were also effective and efficient assassins responsible for the deaths of more then twenty civilians, four military officers, and two federal agents. Thirteen men were wounded and two killed the day they originally brought them down."
"What does this have to do with me, Tobias?"
"The FBI's finest believe that Abigail Sciuto will be their next target."
This proclamation had effectively the same impact on the squad room as a swift kick to an ant hill. Gibbs stood and his teeth came together with an audible clack. Tony was out of his chair and around his desk so quickly that he practically a blur: moving from slouched in his seat to standing in take-off position at the edge of their partitioned area, holstered weapon in hand, in less than ten seconds. Ziva was instantly at Gibbs' side, also anticipating instruction and geared up. McGee was bringing up security footage from the lab to reassure them all that nothing untoward had yet befallen their forensics whiz.
The appearance of Abby's silent figure on the plasma screen- bent over a microscope and blissfully unaware of their eyes on her- defused the tension only enough for Gibbs' eyes to slide back to Fornell and for Ziva to speak, clipped and business-like.
"Who are these men, who trained them?"
"And why are they after Abby?" Tony's voice was even and calm, but pitched noticeably lower than normal.
"We don't know, Officer David, but they were good." Fornell glanced over his shoulder at Tony, "They were put away based primarily on forensic evidence, DiNozzo. Sciuto's first conviction as an expert witness for the state of Louisiana. They've already hit two former employees of the private lab she worked for at the time, both of whom testified at the trial, and we have reason to believe they're saving her for last."
"Yeah," Gibbs voice was dangerous, "What reason?"
The FBI agents exchanged knowing glances and Fornell sighed, "One of these dirtbags developed a fixation on Abby's testimony, kept saying her conclusion was flawed. He wrote rebuttals to the lab disputing everything she'd said, none of it with the slightest grounds. The scene of their latest murder mimicked a scene she analysed years ago and they annotated the walls with personal questions and accusations. They're trying to play head games with her, show how much they know about her, how vulnerable she is- we didn't figure we'd indulge them by letting her in on it all. Doesn't matter. What matters is they know that Miss Sciuto now works for NCIS, where her lab is, where her home is, the details of her routines, and her closest associates. They're preparing to infiltrate. Don't think battening down the hatches will keep them out either, Jethro. Covert breach of military security is a day in the park for these guys. That's what they got paid for."
Gibbs stood absolutely still for a moment which lasted a lifetime, a stricken look in his frost blue eyes. Finally, time started moving again, "McGee, you bring up everything you can on these bastards; Ziva, use your contacts, try to find out where they are now and what kind of fire-power they're using; DiNozzo, come here."
He crossed the room in long, quick strides, buzzing with energy, "Yeah, boss."
"Tony," Gibbs was practically nose to nose with him, intensely serious, "you take Abby and you disappear."
"Boss?" the senior agent was mildly stunned.
Gibbs nodded, "You have two hours to get whatever you need. Expense it- yes, anything- then you come back to get her and you disappear her. Clean break, get a head start, then you contact us for the safe house and the deep covers. You know how long those take, get in touch with me then. Go."
"Abby won't... should I-?"
"She's with you," he interrupted, grabbing Tony's shoulder roughly, "She's always with you, from when you take her out of this building on, she is never out of your reach. Not sight, Tony: reach. Clear?"
"Clear. I'm going badgeless and dark, but we use our real ID until the covers go through- subtle approach. We'll run on cash until I feel good about our situation, watch my personal credit card, a charge will show up there before I make first contact. Abby's cards will never show up. Abby's card shows up, worry. I use my expense account after today, that's a mayday. Clear?"
"Crystal. Go."
"On it."
Ziva stared from her place at her desk, phone in hand. "Gibbs-"
"What was that?" McGee pointed after Tony's disappearance into the elevator, aghast and stunned. "We have protection specialists-"
"Weren't you listening to me, McGee?" Fornell interrupted, looking unsurprised by any of the new developments, "The people after your Miss Sciuto are adept at breaking through protective custody. That's their speciality."
"Tony isn't her detail," Gibbs clarified quietly. "Tony is an expert in not being whoever it is you're looking for."
McGee didn't look satisfied, "But why-"
"He disappears well, McGee, and he must have a rabbit's foot crammed up his ass with the crap he's pulled through without a scratch. She'll be safe."
Ziva put her phone down, the prim set of her mouth and her back-thrust shoulders a good indication she was about to beg to differ. "Not that I doubt you, Gibbs, but I have been trained-"
"I need you here," his tone warned her not to bother trying to argue. "We've still got to catch the bastards. DiNozzo blends into middle America when he feels like it, you don't. Before you go back to the phone get downstairs, take Abby to autopsy and brief her, Ducky too. Tell him to fit out a first aid kit for them. Give him something to do."
McGee jumped up again, "Boss, why don't I-"
"You're busy. Siddown."
"We couldn't at least wait until we have more information, covers set up...?"
"Fornell's right, these aren't people to screw around with."
"I appreciate that, Gibbs."
The FBI agent received a harsh glare. "The sooner she's not where they expect her to be, the better."
,.;.,
"You have to wash your face and braid your hair, too."
Abby stared at the neatly folded pile of clothes in Tony's arms (none of them even remotely any fun and none of them even very nice, which was weird because if there was one thing Tony never exaggerated about it was the quality of his eye for bitching threads) and raised a sceptical eyebrow at him. The whole situation was making her a totally unhappy camper and she'd had Bert clutched under her arm for protection since Ziva started rattling off her scary camp fire stories about revenge killings and hiding in the desert for four months eating ants or something. She wasn't really listening because she was too busy freaking out.
"How did you know my size?" she held up the slacks and saw that they would fit her like they were made for her (even though they couldn't have cost more than thirty bucks).
Tony gave her a look and made an extravagant self-referential gesture using both hands.
"Right. Forgot who I was talking to." She fingered the blouse, "Is this flannel? Can't you get arrested for putting me in flannel against my will under the Geneva Convention?"
"Probably. But it's not going to be against your will, is it, because you know that the whole point of this exercise is to put you in clothes you would never ever wear." Tony guided her towards her office by the shoulders, adding the terrible brown flats he'd bought to her pile and thrusting her through the door. "I'll wait over there. Wear the flannel. Bra optional."
He'd returned to NCIS with three gently used suitcases full of clothes that neither of them would ordinarily have picked for themselves, a tent, sleeping bags, a sensible car with plenty of easily double-walled trunk space to be filled up with guns, a burn phone, two bullet proof vests, make-up, three pairs of sunglasses each, and hair dye. Oh yeah, and a huge wad of cash to be split up and hidden in various crevasses. And a camping kit with knife, matches, lighter, flash light, and cooking pot. She'd thought there might be such a thing as being too prepared, but then she remembered that she wasn't sitting this one out in her lab, she was the one riding the DiNozzo Express to Undercoverville. That made being too prepared sound impossible.
Because she was being targeted by a bunch of crazy scary mercenaries. She wasn't at all at terms enough with that yet to think about it as a real thing that was actually happening, so she was pretending they were going away on a wacky weekend trip.
A trip on which she wasn't allowed to bring anything that actually belonged to her. Her wallet, her cell phone, her clothes, her shoes, not even Bert. Nothing that could possibly connect her to her own identity was to go anywhere near the getaway car. Tony was bringing his driver's license and pretty much nothing else that was actually his. He'd said they were going to go by their middle names until they could get under their actual covers (which he'd spent an hour on the phone with someone in MTAC making up- why she couldn't help she did not know) because it was still his real name and checked out and everything, but it wouldn't be such an instantaneous red flag if someone was looking for the names of Abby's co-workers popping up. Or something. All this spy stuff was making her head explode. Give her some deoxyribonucleic acid for denaturation any day.
So anyway, that made Tony Daniel and her Audrey.
"Abigail Audrey?" he'd said, his tone carefully conveying absolutely no opinion.
"My parents had a mean streak."
"I'm not throwing any stones, Abs. My initials are ADD."
"Oh, I noticed."
"Thank-you for holding it in."
She washed all the make-up off her face, brushed out the pigtail bumps from her hair and braided it into one plait at the nape of her neck, dressed herself entirely in weirdo clothes, put on her ugly shoes, and shuffled out to show Tony. Which was also weird, because she was so used to wearing platforms in the lab and around her NCIS family that she felt like she'd shrunk standing next to him in those familiar surroundings minus three inches of height. It was actually kind of disorienting.
"Wow," Tony looked up from where he was intently studying some specimen jars (to keep himself from peeking through the window while she was changing, she was so on to him), "you look nothing like you."
"That's the whole idea, DiNozzo." Gibbs breezed in and gave her the once-over. "Good job, too."
They both seemed sort of hinkied out by the whole thing. Tony recovered first, "Well, unless there's anything new you need to tell me, we are out of here."
"You're wearing gear, taking a sedan and switching vehicles at a convenience store parking lot, check?"
Tony nodded once. "We leave the caps and coats with the sedan. Don't send anyone to get it for a few hours. I left the address with McGee."
"Check. You got everything?"
"Oh yeah, boss. I can stay gone for months."
Gibbs seemed to chew on something else he wanted to say, then he just nodded back. Turning to Abby, he chucked her under the chin and kissed her cheek. "You'll be home before you know it.
"Now get going."
Tony grabbed her hand and started leading the way.
She dragged behind him like a little kid, skidding easily over the tile in her new traction-free shoes, "Wait! Don't I get to say good-"
"They're all busy, Abs." Gibbs sounded even gruffer than usual, "Sooner we catch those bastards, sooner you're back here doing your doo-dahs."
She saw the fear in his wide blue eyes and it made her heart flutter even as Tony's arm settled comfortingly, protectively around her shoulders.
Gibbs was never afraid.