Chapter Nineteen
Aftermaths

Leroy Jethro Gibbs sits at his desk in the dark bullpen, the nimbuses of a few lamps scattered throughout the Operations Division provide all the light he needs. It's 2234, later than his normal 2100 departure time, but he'd been waiting for the elevator's bell which finally rings behind him. The shadowy figure that comes around Ziva's cubicle is shorter than she and distinguished by the silhouette of a fedora over long coat. Donald Mallard steps into the lamplight, but his mood is no less dark than his shadowed outline had been.

"Duck."

"I've just come from George Washington hospital," he says without preamble, telling his friend what he already knew.

"How is she?" Considering DiNozzo's and David's reports, he hardly needs to see the man's grim expression.

"While I am not in a position to offer a conclusive evaluation based on a half-hour's conversation, I venture to say Ms. Tremont shall see somewhat more of a hospital than she will a jail cell."

"I've been finishing Campbell's and Cabrera's cases, crossing the i's and dotting the t's."

Ducky understands the point. He feels the same. "And?"

"There are days when this job gives me a lot of satisfaction." Gibbs turns off the three monitor screens, the station growing progressively darker and, reaching for his lamp, looks up at the shadowy figure opposite him. "This isn't one of them."

He switches off the lamp.

xxx

Tim McGee enters his dark apartment at 2314, but a fall of light spills out of his bedroom beyond the computer station to his right. He crosses the room and stops at the door. Siobhan lies on the bed's right side, clothed in red blouse and black skirt and propped up on all four pillows. She's apparently slid down, a coverless black book under her right hand at her side. From her steady soft breathing he knows her to be soundly asleep so he approaches quietly, reaches down and slides the book from under her hand.

He's not surprised to find it's an unjacketed copy of 'Cearbhall's Quest'. This is one of a dozen advance copies that arrived today; the book hits the shelves next week and he sees the jacket set face down next to the lamp on her night table. His own image is positioned upward to her as she sat resting against the headboard. "I'll tease you in the morning," he quietly assures his slumbering wife, "that you were able to find a part of this you could fall asleep over."

He rejackets the book, sets it on the night table and reaches for her red blouse, cautiously opening one button after another, quite appreciating the view gradually offered. He's not sure how he'll completely undress her without–

"You're supposed to ask permission before undressing a woman, sir," she says softly, eyes still closed.

"I did."

She looks up at him, her emerald eyes glinting in the overhead light. "When?"

"January first, around two in the morning, in the parking lot." That was when he'd asked her to marry him.

"I see." She gives him a slow smile. "And so my agreeing to that gives you the right to ravage me at will?"

He finishes opening her buttons, spreads the red blouse and finds not a lot of a pink bra. "Absolutely."

She raises one knee, the black skirt slipping up her nyloned thigh. "So Cearbhall, victorious in his Quest against the evil Dubhshlaine, now claims the virginal Princess Mairenn as his prize?"

He could answer as Cearbhall but decides, as he bends low to her lips and his hand slips up along her warm leg, past the top of her gartered nylon and further, that she's already chosen the scene and there's no need for his words.

xxx

Tony DiNozzo sits in his living room, staring at his entertainment system, not seeing the dark screen, not feeling his cell phone in his hand. He'd thought for over an over about calling Jeanne; she'd come and listen to his tale of woe, but it's after midnight and he can't bring himself to call her.

Things are so different from when he first met her nearly two years ago, when he'd been the fictional 'Professor Anthony DiNardo'. Their recovery from those days had been hard on each of them, but she'd learned the truth and, against all odds or even reason as he knows women's reason, she'd stayed with him.

He recalls that long ago day when, vengeful, she'd accused him of murdering her father, the infamous Rene 'La Grenouille' Benoit. It had been Trent Kort who'd pulled the trigger, and when that CIA secret had been revealed he'd gone, at McGee's urging, across the Operations Division to intercept her as she was leaving Headquarters, to face her one last time.

'Was any of it real?' she'd asked him, heartbroken.

'All of it,' he'd answered truthfully. 'I love you.'

'Who are you, Tony? Really. Who are you?'

Over a long dinner he'd told her everything. And that night had been the beginning of their real life together.

But sometimes, on dismal nights like this, he wonders what his life would be if he'd said 'no'.

x

A knock on the door almost goes unanswered, he doesn't want to talk to anyone, but its persistence can't be fought, not from this side of the wood.

He walks to the door, still holding the phone, not caring who's come to bother him. Abby would. Ziva might. McGee and Palmer wouldn't. Gibbs wouldn't knock.

He feels very different when he opens the door. "Jeanne..."

She doesn't say a word, just steps in, pushes the door closed behind her and hugs him.

xxx

At 0417 Abby and Sammy walk the dark L Street, Sammy particularly basking in the glow of the full moon blessing the night. Abby glances down to the petite woman; Sammy's long pale blonde hair seems to dance about her white blouse and bounces with her jaunty steps. She'd been skipping before but she'd pulled ahead and Abby had made her stop.

"You are one heck of a trip, girl," she tells her impish friend. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you."

"Enjoy me," Sammy exclaims jubilantly, her arms flung wide, reminding Abby of a female Peter Pan. She'd swear Sammy's voice dances almost as much as her feet as she walks Cloud Nine. "I'm treating you to a world Goth never prepared you for."

"Nothing's prepared me for tonight."

"I am so broadening your horizons."

"Can't argue with that." If not for her eclectic roommate, Abby's sure she'd never have spent the whole night in a Gay – sorry, an LGBT Club – nor that she'd've had so good a time. It was so different from the usual clubs she parties at, even beyond the fact that tonight the women approached her while the men ignored her. But she fit in so well it didn't feel strange, though at one point, upon seeing a particularly luscious guy, she'd gotten confused.

Sammy's gift to her, the rectangular metal pin on her white Victorian blouse lapel, 'STRAIGHT' on one line, 'but not narrow' below it, saved an awkward moment or two. Rather, the people she met were generally much more open-minded than she'd expected, and her straight - pardon the pun - out stand had made her quite well accepted indeed.

Abby made more new friends tonight than she can recall doing on any other, even beyond Sammy's introductions of her friends and acquaintances. She'd gone to 'Sodom and Gomorrah' anticipating a period of discomfort and adjustment and it hadn't happened. In fact, she was very disappointed when 0400 finally came and the club had to shut down.

x

"If my horizons were any broader," Abby quips, stifling a laugh, "Gibbs would have a conniption."

Sammy laughs delightedly - Abby would've thought 'gay-ly' but doesn't want to press the pun. "He is so going to consider me a horrible influence on you."

"I was supposed to be the bad influence on you."

"Give me ti OW!"

"What's up?" Abby turns to where Sammy's halted, her hand covering her left eye.

"Red light flashed in my eye, nearly blinded me." She looks down. "Hey, what?"

Abby follows Sammy's pointing finger to the slightly moving dot of red light upon her right breast.

"SAMMY!" Abby grabs her arm, yanks hard. A muffled cough from behind her. Red blood erupts from her friend's chest.

x

The impact drives Sammy back, out of Abby's grasp. Pain and astonishment fill her face. Abby's too horrified to scream.

A muffled 'chock'. Red blood gushes from Sammy's chest. Another gush erupts beside it, then another covers her left breast, staggers her backward.

Blood explodes from Sammy's stomach, doubles the petite woman over. Her pale blonde hair flies to curtain her eyes. Red erupts from the center of her skull - knocks her off her feet - she crashes to the cement.

x

Abby whirls. Car twenty feet away - no cover. 'Pock'! A hammer slams into her left breast. She looks down; another hammer hurts the middle of her chest. Two red splotches spread.

Two more hammer blows hit fast, stagger Abby back, form a horrific triangle. Red spreads wide as her heart gushes.

She looks up, pain so bad she can't feel her heart stop. The red light from the car window flashes up across her eyes.

The bullet slams into her forehead. Her head snaps back. The red splash–

.

.

Next Episode: On the Wings of Demons: A furious manhunt. A conspiracy beyond reason. Burning hatred fuels a quest for revenge.