Title: Smoke and Mirrors
Author: Jo. R (driftingatdusk)
Rating: FR-15
Category: Drama, Case-file, Romance, Angst, Action, Friendship
Pairing: Abby/Gibbs
Spoilers: Bloodbath, Hiatus 1&2, Murder 2.0, Broken Bird, Faith, Rule 51, Cracked
Summary: Someone from the past has a score to settle with the team.
Thanks to Lisa for proofreading for me. *hugs* Any mistakes that remain are my own.

Prologue

Two men sat opposite each other in the brightly lit visiting room, separated by the thick, clear plastic screen. One of them, the man wearing a bright orange jumpsuit typical of prisoners glanced somewhat nervously over his shoulder at the waiting security detail as his visitor, the man in the smart suit and dark brown wig, picked up the telephone receiver on his side of the window and motioned the prisoner to do the same.

"It's starting soon," the man in the suit said in a quiet but confident tone, the excitement in his eyes hidden by the tinted glasses he wore but a note of it he couldn't quite contain creeping into his voice.

The prisoner in the orange jumpsuit felt his heart pound faster, blood and adrenaline coursing through his body at a dizzying, almost sickening rate. He felt momentarily faint, his head spinning, and hoped he wasn't going to pass out. It would draw too much attention, he knew, would only make the guards ask questions, questions he wouldn't be able to answer. He licked his dry lips and spoke in a whisper "Who did you choose first?"

The man in the suit gave him a small, almost secretive smile, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards only a little. "Why, it's ladies first, of course. One of the few things my mother did right was to raise me with manners."

From behind the clear plastic, the man in orange tightened his hold on the receiver, his eyes widening a little in apprehension. "You haven't... Not…?"

"No, no." Pleased the glasses hid his rolling eyes and the disdain he was sure would be easy to see, his visitor shook his head slightly. "You made it clear she was the exception; that she is to be spared. Don't worry, my friend; I gave you my word and I won't go back on it. She'll still be alive and well when you get out of here, I promise, unlike the people she works with."

Anticipation had him leaning forward on the edge of his seat, his nose almost pressed to the window between them. The prisoner knew he should restrain himself but hope made him too giddy to care. "Any idea on when that'll be? Me getting out of here, I mean? You said..."

"Soon," his visitor promised. "You'll be out of here soon. I just have to make the NCIS agents pay first, make sure they're out of the way, and then we'll both be home free."

The two men exchanged a smile, both confident they'd each get what they wanted from their arrangement.

Part One

"And Team DiNozzo wins again!" NCIS Special Agent Anthony 'Tony' DiNozzo cheered as he threw the crumpled ball of paper in his hands in the direction of the trashcan between his desk and Special Agent Timothy 'Tim' McGee's. "You know, we're really getting good at this."

"Playing basketball with screwed up pieces of paper?" McGee asked sceptically as he tried – and failed – to get his own ball of paper into the bin.

Tony grinned at his teammate and leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on his desk with a satisfied sigh. "That, too, for some of us, but I meant getting the bad guy. Third conviction this month; you gotta admit we're good."

"Who is good at what?" NCIS Probationary Agent and former Mossad liaison Ziva David approached with Abby Sciuto, the NCIS forensic specialist.

The two ladies had disappeared to the restrooms after returning from court and had returned, Tony noted, looking more like themselves and less like the people the prosecuting lawyer had insisted they be. Abby, in particular, he noticed had changed out of the unflattering court clothes she'd worn and back into the short skirt, tight top and high boot combination she loved so much.

"Team DiNozzo's good at getting the bad guys," Tony clarified. "I'm sure if we looked into it, we'd have broken all of the records.

"Team DiNozzo?" Abby Sciuto paused in fastening one of her infamous pigtails, an eyebrow arched as she looked at him with a grin. "You get promoted again, Tony?"

"News to me if he did," another voice joined the conversation, and Tony sat up straighter in his chair, his feet returning to the floor.

Clearing his throat, he glanced up at the team leader, an apologetic grin on his face as Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs stared at him as he took a sip from the coffee cup in his hand. "I meant Team Gibbs, Boss. Of course."

"Of course," Gibbs repeated with an arched eyebrow. The silver-haired agent navigated his way around Abby and Ziva and took his place behind his own desk.

"But seriously, someone's gotta be keeping track of this, right? Our success rate?" Tony looked between his teammates. "We catch more of the bad guys than any other team. Sure, some of the time the bad guys don't make it to court – it's not really our fault they blow themselves up or make us shoot 'em – but our success rate has to be one of the best if not the best, right?"

Ziva rolled her eyes while Abby smirked. The Israeli sat down at her desk while the forensic specialist perched on the edge of Gibbs' desk, facing her, after throwing the man himself a quick smile to make sure he didn't mind her presence.

"You look happy," Ziva pointed out, smiling at Abby as she straightened the first pigtail and started work on the second. "Relieved to be out of those clothes?"

Abby shuddered dramatically. "Oh, yeah. Who would wear that stuff? Voluntarily? I mean, it's not a good look, is it?"

"Perhaps if you wore the right size..." Ziva let her voice trail off at the glare she got from her friend. "Besides, Commander Wright did not seem to agree. I believe he said you looked cute, yes?"

Not noticing Gibbs' sudden interest in the conversation, and oblivious to Ziva's smirk when she did, Abby rolled her eyes. "Commander Wright would say any woman looked cute in a potato sack if he thought he had a chance with them. He's delusional."

"So he does not have a chance with you?" Ziva met Gibbs' eye over Abby's shoulder and arched an eyebrow. "I thought he was... handsome."

"He could be the most handsome man in the world and still stand no chance. He's too creepy for that," Abby added with another shudder. She followed Ziva's line of sight and twisted to look at Gibbs, frowning when she found him staring intently at a folder on his desk. "You got yourself a coffee and didn't get me a Caf-Pow? Gibbs!"

Without looking up, Gibbs shrugged. "There's one in your lab, Abs."

"Yay!" Jumping off the desk, Abby started towards the elevators at the back of the squad room. "You guys plan what we're doing to celebrate tonight – I'll be right back!"

"Did someone say celebrate...?" Tony broke off from his conversation with McGee about starting a database to keep track of their successes. "Drinks after work?"

Ziva shrugged when his gaze fell on her. "I am game. It would be good to loosen our hair after the trial."

"Let down our hair," Tony corrected with a smirk.

"You are just jealous I have hair to let down," Ziva countered with a sweet smile.

"Why would I be jealous of that?" Tony asked with a frown, running his hands through his hair as if to check it was all present and accounted for.

"I think she means that at least she's not showing signs of a receding hairline, Tony," McGee chimed in with a grin, siding easily with Ziva.

As Tony protested – and started searching through his desk drawer for a mirror to check – Gibbs shook his head and bit back a grin at the banter. They might exasperate him sometimes, annoy him even, but they were still his team and he was glad he had them.

It was a happy group that descended on a bar near to the Navy Yard that night. Doctor Donald 'Ducky' Mallard, Medical Examiner, and his assistant, Jimmy Palmer, joined them and made their impromptu celebration complete.

Staying away from the alcohol so he could keep an eye on his team and make sure they all got home safely; Gibbs watched them interact with one another and listened to the conversations flowing around him, joining in when he was pointedly invited, usually by Ducky or Abby.

Tony was still trying to convince Ziva and Abby that there should be a record of all of their successful cases, and insisting that, if there were records, he was sure the team would have broken them all by now.

McGee and Palmer were arguing over their latest case that had successfully gone to court, the trial that had ended only a matter of hours before. McGee was insisting it was the evidence he had found to prove that the Naval Lieutenant's laptop had been used to access his bank accounts after his death that secured the conviction against his roommate, while Palmer insisted it was the tiny scrap of DNA he'd recovered from the Lieutenant's body that had managed to convince both judge and jury.

Ducky leaned back and took it all in with an indulgent smile, meeting Gibbs' gaze with sparkling blue eyes and an affectionate look. "Quite a team we have here, Jethro."

"Quite a drunk team," Gibbs interjected when he noticed both McGee and Tony lift their empty glasses and tilt them back before realising with almost identical expressions of confusion that their drinks were gone. "Think we should call it a night," he said in a louder voice, "we've all got work tomorrow."

Both Tony and McGee looked like they were about to protest but the look their boss shot them silenced them. Ziva, who had stopped herself at one small glass of wine before switching to orange juice, coughed to hide a chuckle at the downcast expressions on their faces.

"But we haven't settled the argument!" A tipsy Palmer piped up, alcohol making him brave enough to argue but not brave enough to withstand the glare Gibbs gave him. "We were just trying to decide whose evidence won the case," he added with a slight pout.

Gibbs shrugged and got up, motioning for the others to do the same. "That's easy." He waited a beat, both men looking at him anxiously. "Abby's."

Abby gave him a wide, appreciative smile as he helped her into her jacket, leaning back against him a little. She missed the speculative glance shared between Ducky and Ziva, and the almost envious look that passed between McGee and Tony; it wasn't a secret to any of them that she was Gibbs' favourite, after all.

The group ambled out of the bar and into the cool night, saying their goodbyes as they were ushered into taxis. McGee and Palmer shared a taxi, their bickering resuming before the doors could close leaving the others feeling a little sympathetic towards their unfortunate driver while Ziva, Ducky and Tony grabbed the next cab, waving to Abby and Gibbs as they stood together watching them all leave.

"You sure you don't mind driving me home?" Abby asked, wrapping her arms around her middle. She clenched her jaw against a shiver as the breeze wrapped itself around her and smiled up at him when he instinctively closed the gap between them and offered her his arm. "I don't mind calling a cab..."

"It's almost on the way," Gibbs replied with a shrug. At the doubtful look she gave him, he allowed himself a small smile but said nothing; they both knew her apartment was on the opposite side of town to his house and they both knew he wouldn't let her get a cab on her own, no matter how much she argued. It was the downside – or a benefit, Abby thought privately – to living pretty much in the wrong direction to everyone else.

"If you say so." Deciding it was too cold to stand outside debating it, she let him lead her to the car, giving him a soft smile of thanks when he opened the passenger's door for her and waited until she was inside before closing it.

While he drove, she played with the radio until she found a station she liked – something a lot quieter than the music she usually played in her lab out of deference to his very different tastes.

They didn't talk throughout the drive but neither felt the need to; eleven plus years of working together meant that they could sit in comfortable, companionable silences without feeling the need to fill them with mindless small talk. When they reached her apartment block and Abby started to open the door, Gibbs gave her a look that made her reconsider. Rolling her eyes at his old-fashioned manners, she sat patiently as he got out of the car and walked around to open the door for her.

"Jack would be proud," she teased him lightly as she got out, straightening down the skirt she wore, missing the way his eyes tracked her movements. "You gonna walk me to my door as well?"

Gibbs shrugged and shut the door behind her. "You should be used to it by now, Abby."

"I am," she admitted with a quick smile, "though sometimes it still feels like you, Ducky and Jack are the last gentlemen on Earth."

"What about McGee and DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked quietly, walking by her side up the steps to the door of her apartment block.

"McGee's sweet but he could use some pointers," she replied with a shrug, turning to face him when they reached the door. "And I love Tony to pieces but sometimes he tries too hard to impress to be a real gentleman."

"You don't think a guy can be both?" He met her gaze, in no apparent rush to leave her despite his calling the night of celebrating to an end. "Impressive and a gentleman?"

"Oh, some guys can." Her smile was flirty, her green eyes sparkling. "Some guys can impress without trying."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

They'd moved a little closer throughout their exchange and Abby felt her pulse quicken, her mind spinning dizzily. For weeks, months even, she'd sensed a change in him, something that gave her hope he might one day act on the attraction that had existed between them from the beginning. The air between them felt different, electric almost, and she found herself wondering if, finally, the someday she'd been promising herself would one day come had arrived.

"Gibbs..."

"Abby."

His lips were millimetres from her own, his breath warm on her face. Abby fought to keep her arms at her sides, wanting to be sure whatever happened between them happened because he wanted it to and not because she'd pressed the issue. When his hand moved to her chin, tilting her face up slightly, she couldn't help the sigh that escaped her.

Almost as soon as his lips brushed hers, he pulled away. She felt herself sag in disappointment and watched as he looked up and down the empty street, his blue eyes narrowed as his shoulders tensed.

"Gibbs?" Both confused and frustrated, Abby glanced around but saw nothing that could be responsible for the sudden shift between. "What...?"

"Go inside, Abby," he told her, a little harsher than he intended. He didn't look back at her, squinting into the darkness around them instead. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Oh. Okay." Hurt flashed in her eyes but he didn't see it. "See you tomorrow, then. At work." When he said nothing, Abby glared at the back of his head and pulled her keys out of her purse. "Good night, Gibbs."

By the time the annoyed tone she used registered in his mind and he'd turned – either to apologise or explain – Abby had unlocked the front door and gone inside, closing it securely behind her. Gibbs sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair, heading back down the steps to his car before he could be tempted to ring the buzzer and see if she'd let him in.

He glanced around again as he unlocked the door, the hairs on the back of his neck rising once more. He studied the seemingly deserted street again, trying to pinpoint the cause of his unease but got into his car on finding nothing.

Glancing up at Abby's window, he waited until he saw the lights go on before turning the key in the ignition, satisfied she was safe for the night; the deadlocks he'd installed on her apartment door would see to that.

The feeling didn't return again as he drove home and he told himself he was being paranoid, gave himself a mental head-slap for letting his overactive imagination get in the way of a potential moment with his forensic specialist.

Tomorrow, he promised himself, he'd make it up to her tomorrow.

Despite the chill in the air, it was a bright and sunny morning and Ziva left her apartment feeling optimistic about the day ahead. It helped, she thought with a bright smile at the neighbour she passed on the stairs, knowing that her teammates would no doubt be suffering from hangovers that she didn't share.

With a wicked glint entering her dark eyes, she got into her car and shut the door behind her, already planning how to take advantage of the situation and make their day as miserable as possible.

She started the car and turned the radio on full blast, singing along to the song that came on the radio as she checked the mirror and pulled out into the road. She turned the corner and headed down the bank.

Halfway down, she saw the lights ahead change to red and pressed her foot to the brake in preparation.

It didn't work.

Her good mood evaporated in an instant and Ziva found herself pressing her foot to the floor harder to no affect.

A harassed mother with two small children clinging from either hand started to cross the road, not noticing the car careening towards her, building up speed as the incline grew steeper.

Ziva lashed out, hitting the horn. Her eyes met the harassed woman through the glass and she realised that the mother and her children had stopped, frozen, midway across the road, their eyes open in horror as they realised she couldn't stop.

"Get out of the way," Ziva muttered, trying once more to stop her car.

When the woman and her children stayed where they were, stunned into inaction, and the cries of people grew loud enough for Ziva to hear above her music, she did the only thing she could to avoid hitting the people on the crossing: she pulled hard on the wheel, yanking it to the side and braced herself as the car careened towards the empty sidewalk and old buildings.

Closing her eyes as her car mounted the pavement, Ziva could only pray as she heard the sickening crunch of the hood meet the resistance of a brick wall before pain flooded her senses and darkness wrapped her in its firm embrace.