-1Yet another random inspiration. I need to stop having these. Actually, I need to stop dreaming, 'cause this one came from a dream. It's probably more that I need to stop dreaming after drinking large amounts of caffeine-filled drinks. But I do NOT need to stop drinking them. This Abby like her Caf-Pow. Feedback welcome… and wanted!

Prologue

Gibbs froze, tools still poised, and glanced up at the ceiling. Someone was in the house. And, considering it was one in the morning and he hadn't received any calls, he thought it was safe to assume it wasn't anyone he knew - no one would come to his house that late except for Abby, and though she did have a tendency to show up at odd hours, she always called if it was after midnight. He carefully placed the tools down on his worktable and pulled open the drawer in which he kept his gun.

As he crept towards the stairs, he found himself hoping it was just someone he knew. Abby had been coming to his house more frequently lately, to talk or work on the boat or just, as she said, so he wouldn't be alone all the time. Maybe she'd just forgotten to call this time. Or she'd called, but called his home phone and he hadn't heard it ring. And then for some reason she hadn't tried his cell and had just come over. Maybe she'd had a nightmare again and didn't want to be in her house alone. By this time he'd reached the living room, gazing around alertly. She'd be calling next time, he was sure, because she'd be getting quite a scare this time for surprising him.

The lights were off. But Abby wouldn't turn them on; she liked the dark. No one was in the living room, but maybe she'd gone to his room. Instead of the basement? She probably thought he was sleeping, not working on his boat. By this time he'd nearly convinced himself it must be her, and was making mental excuses for anything that might suggest otherwise. He headed for the stairs, still tense despite his rationalizations.

The hallway was dark, but a light shone from the half-open door of his bedroom. He sighed in relief, relaxing a bit and lowering the gun. "Abby?" he headed towards the room, feeling a bit dumb for getting so worked up. "Abbs, you really should call if you're gonna stop by this late. I don't have a problem with it, but you gave me quite a…"

He was cut off by strong arms encircling him from behind and a damp cloth pressed against his face. He struggled, recognizing the smell of chloroform and trying to hold his breath. But the grip was too strong and he'd been caught by surprise, and it wasn't long before his vision became hazy and he felt himself slipping into darkness, his last conscious thought being that he should have known - Abby always called.