A/N: Hey guys :) Thanks to everyone who reviewed and said hi again. I'm thinking this story is coming close to the end…do you think this story has any sequel potential? If there was a sequel, it'd probably be more Gabby-centered than on a case, but who knows. Comment/review on what ya think ;] Enjoy…

Clank-clank-clank!

"This is the least I can do," Abby thought. She couldn't move her mouth without the risk of Sheldon tightening his hand around her jaw, or worse her neck...though she was tempted to bite those pale fingers of his.

Hands tied behind her back with one of Sheldon's shirtsleeves, Abby had been pinned against a cement wall and could see the muted color of the sky behind the billowing sheets of plastic and tarp hanging by the building's skeleton. Sheldon was definitely calling Gibbs just to taunt him—the sneer on the bartender's face gave him away before he spoke.

"Try me. Someone's going to die, and it'll be too late for you and your team."

His subsequent laugh was comparable to a hyena's. It disgusted Abby.

"Wouldn't you like to know what fun I'm having with you lab rat..." Sheldon leaned in and inhaled her unusual, arousing scent of gunpowder. His lips came closer to her skin, his tongue even closer.

It was fortunate that a small pile of thin pipes were at her feet. So she kicked them.

"Shh—no!" Sheldon snarled and clenched her throat. "Stop it, bitch!"

Air was being squeezed out of her mercilessly. "Let—" Abby choked. "—go of me—!" She kneed him in the groin and kicked him away. His cell phone skipped and tumbled away on the cement. Abby fell next to it—Sheldon tackled her down. "Gibbs, I'm right here! I'm at a—!"

BLAM!

Abby froze, as if the perforated cell phone would electrocute her. Her tackler flipped her over and straddled her, pointing a gun at her face.

Sheldon sighed. "Why don't we...try this again?" A sick grin replaced his irritated face. "No gloves. No drugs. No resistance." He stuck the gun under her chin. "Or else." His free hand caressed her neck and traveled down her shoulder and lingered at her breast.

Abby spat in his face. Sheldon shuddered back and wiped his eyes.

"I'd rather die." She squinted at him. "Fruitcake."

The bartender's eyes were black pits of ire. "You said it," he muttered—and fired the gun.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

That's it, thought Gibbs. I have to tell her. After this, he decided he would finally reveal to Abby how he truly felt about her. He couldn't deny it anymore. He didn't know, didn't want to know when another chance like this would arise. Why couldn't I tell her before? When she wasn't in the hands of a killer? When she was safe, with me? Gibbs pressed the gas harder.

At the wheel, the agent felt like going 125 down the freeway, but the rest of his team riding passenger knew he was going at least 40 mph below that. McGee sat at shotgun, clenching the armrest and sitting erect. The needle kept slowly reaching the 100 mark, but Gibbs still felt like he wasn't going fast enough. The construction site was, according to McGee, on Shannon Pl., oddly enough.

Finally, the ominous cement skeleton loomed outside the car, and the dim evening sky added more to the site's menacing appearance. The car screeched to a stop at the curb, and all of them jumped out. Gibbs stared up at one of the upper levels, while Tony, McGee and Ziva awaited orders.

"You think they're up there, boss?" Tony asked.

Before Gibbs could stare at him, McGee answered, "Probably. If they were right there—" He pointed at the darkness that was the first floor. "—then we would've heard something by now."

"Or not," Ziva speculated. "Abby could be forced not to speak."

Gibbs took one step toward the building, and everyone was silent.

"No," he said. "She'd put up a fight…" Something dark and thin that appeared on the fifth story caught Gibbs' eye. "Do you see that?" he pointed.

Tony and Ziva peered, while McGee magically pulled out a pair of binoculars. "You keep binoculars in your pants or something, McScout?"

"It's…" McGee ignored Tony. "…oil?"

"Gimme that—" Tony snatched them and looked. "Uh, some kind of liquid trailing down the cement…" He spoke more slowly as his face grew paler.

"Blood," Gibbs and Ziva said.

Everyone unholstered their weapons.

"Ziva, cover, Tony, check the back," Gibbs ordered, "McGee—" He tossed the agent the car keys. "—stand guard if he tries to make an escape." Gibbs eyed the sedan that was parked across the street and saw Sheldon's plate.

Ziva and Gibbs pulled out flashlights they had taken from the car and shone them while staying armed, stealthily crossing through the bottom floor. "There," the mossad spotted the staircase, which seemed stable enough to climb. Miraculously, they flew over them and didn't crack the cement.

At the fifth floor, Gibbs caught a glimpse of the pool of blood that made the stream they saw below. The two agents immediately flanked the nearest wall, staying out of sight. Silence. Only the wind-brushed plastic and tarp made a sound.

Ziva, in front of Gibbs, crouched down and checked. "Clear," she gasped.

The two of them rushed out and froze, aiming their guns at an empty pool of blood…and the woman lying next to it.

"ABBY!" Gibbs roared and ran to the less bloody body.

Still in her pajama pants and broken-heart shirt—now stained with an grapefruit-sized, crimson blotch next to her shoulder—Abby's eyes opened wide to Gibbs's voice. She tried to get up, but her wound pushed her back down. "I'm—alive," she winced.

He ran and knelt at her side to grip her free hand—her other held a handgun. "Abbs?" Gibbs eyed the weapon, but looked back into her frightened eyes.

She was trying her best not to blubber again, but Abby had trouble speaking. "Gibbs—he's still here," she gasped. "Ah—" she bit her lip, wincing again when Gibbs pressed above her wound. "These are his, not mine." She held up the gun and pointed at the blood pool with her chin. The pool was smaller than he thought, and a thread-like trail led around the corner past the stair entrance, to the other side of the floor.

Gibbs nodded and understood. "Ziva." He motioned for her with his head. "Watch Abby." He got up and checked his gun. Ziva stared at him a second, but Gibbs only nodded. "I can take him."

BANG—pow—pow—pow! A single bullet tore through the night air and it seemed to have ricocheted off the cement.

"Stay with her!" Gibbs shouted and ran.

He flanked the corner and checked over his covering wall, then moved out and scanned the whole other side of the empty floor. It was seemingly empty. The dark trail continued to a dark crook in the wall. One step later, and Gibbs saw a body being flipped onto the cement and a second gunman pointing a weapon.

"Freeze, fruitcake!" Tony barked and aimed at his victim.

Gibbs saw the spineless man struggling to get up, but he had lost considerable blood. Sheldon Blake stumbled across the floor, fell against a pillar…and started laughing. It was the most grating sound he'd ever heard.

"What's so funny, Sheldon?" Gibbs asked as he walked closer to the killer.

Sheldon lifted his spare pistol and held it to his temple. Gibbs and Tony stepped back.

"Tell me, Agent Gibbs," he grinned, "did you think someone like me could cause so much damage?"

Gibbs still had his weapon pointed at him. "Why?" he simply asked.

The pistol shook in the bartender's hand; blood started to form on the ground he sat upon. Sheldon wiped a hand across his chest and looked at his red hand. "I'm going to die, Agent Gibbs. Does it really matter why I did what I did anymore?"

"We can take you Bethesda," Gibbs said.

"But after that, you're talking," Tony added.

A sad smile formed on Sheldon's face—Gibbs almost felt sorry for him. The killer stared at his blood for a long time. "You can't treat this—any of this," he gestured to his whole self. His eyes glinted in the evening light. "I'm infected. Need I say more?" Gibbs stared him down, but Sheldon shook his head. "Don't worry about your lab rat—she's clean."

"You raped her?" Gibbs had a feeling, but he couldn't believe it.

Sheldon smiled again; he put down his pistol. "Shoot me."

"Tell us, Sheldon," Gibbs said, holding back most of his anger in his voice. "Tell us everything."

Sheldon searched through Gibbs's eyes. "You already know everything," he said. "Jason ruined my life, the Goth needed to know the real side of him, and Arnold would never understand."

"He was going to rat you out," Tony spoke.

"You can say that," Sheldon answered, glaring at the other agent. "I told him the next morning, during our usual coffee date…don't know why." He seemed lost in the memory, but he quickly looked back at Gibbs. "See? What's the point, Agent Gibbs?"

"You tell me," Gibbs answered.

Angered tears gradually welled and flooded Sheldon's eyes. "Jason wasn't the one who infected me," he said, "but he infected just about everything else. I wasn't going to take his bi crap…after all those years… I wandered from person to person, trying to see what he sees in everyone apparently. And after I found out I was going to die, guess who shows up at the bar? How can anyone be so damn happy with someone else?"

"It's very possible," Gibbs said, instantly thinking of his girl bleeding around the corner.

Sheldon gave him a pained gaze. "Not for me, Agent Gibbs. Not for me." He held the pistol to his head and closed his eyes.

"Don't—" Gibbs and Tony yelled.

BANG!

Sheldon Blake slumped to the floor and lay in his blood. Gibbs wiped a hand down his damp face; he couldn't look at the twisted, satisfied grin of death the bartender wore now and forever.

The agent sighed. "Call Ducky. I'm taking Abbs to Bethesda."