Hi, everyone! Here is the first half of another short story based on a prompt! I had intended for it to be short but it took on a life of its own and grew fairly long. There will be another chapter! It is already written but I thought that I would spread this out to help provide more excitement during the wait for the second chapter of "Echoes". ;)
Thanks to all the great reviewers lately. I've appreciated all of them! Thanks to KrisShannon and fiftyshadeswritergal who read this in advance and gave me more ideas and encouragement!
I hope that no one is offended by how strict Gibbs has to be in this story. As it is told from his side I hope that his reasoning comes through clearly enough to show his care and concern along with his necessary censure!
Scenario from fiftyshadeswritergal, author of the amazingly exciting "For the Love of Music" (which can never have enough reviewers, just saying!):
There is a crime scene the team responds to that happens to contain a lot of occult paraphernalia and owned by a local psychic Abby has always wanted to meet. It happens to also be an unsafe house because of the crime ridden neighborhood and possible traps the former owner had planted. Abby wants to see the place for herself. Gibbs says no. She goes anyway. On top of that, she is at the forbidden crime scene when key forensic evidence comes in and isn't there to process it.
I decided to tackle this from Gibbs' POV.
Enjoy!
Update: As so many were bothered by Gibbs using his belt on Abby I decided to change the implement of her punishment. Thank you all for sharing your concerns. I never want to write Gibbs as potentially abusive or overly harsh to Abby and I appreciate your viewpoints. As this is an area where I feel okay with changing the detail I will listen to your requests! Thank you for sharing your feelings in the reviews!
...
I walked into the lab, fully expecting my Abs to be busily working away on processing evidence from our current case - just like I told her. I had come down with urgent evidence that I got from the local police after a battle of legalities - just like I told her. She was to go nowhere. That's why my heart sank the moment that I realized that Abby was absent from her domain. If she had gone to the bathroom or dashed off to another department I would be at rest. Somehow I just know things when it comes to my team, my family, and right then I did not like why I knew. My gut was churning. There was only one place that she would have sneaked off to at this point and that was why I was nearly sick with fear.
I ran out to my car and drove back to the crime scene at speeds that would make even Ziva concerned. Why would I be headed to a crime scene in search for my missing girl? That kid has been fascinated in this house and begging for me to take her. Apparently Silvana Chervante, our person of interest and owner of the house where the crimes took place, is better known locally as Psychic Silvana. And apparently she is someone that Abby has been desperate to meet for months. Once she heard about the case from the boys she would not give up hounding me to let her go see the house, no matter how gruesome the scene. She got into the crime scene photos and admired them constantly.
But Abby didn't know what I know now.
"Psychic Silvana" set off my gut. She said that it was her boyfriend who killed that Marine, but had my suspicions. Those suspicions were just justified by the evidence I received. Silvana does not have a boyfriend, she is no psychic - according to Tim, she's been using technology to stalk victims and learn information about them. Then she sends them free coupons for sessions, reveals private information about them to gain their trust, then ends up trapping them in her house for a week before gruesomely murdering them. Except she is only five feet tall and these victims were savagely stabbed and strangled. There had to be an accomplice out there and I didn't know where he or she was.
And now Abby was out there too.
I pulled up to the crime scene. Yes, there was Abby's car - and it was surrounded by a bunch of local teens trying to break into it. Once they saw me they took off down the road. Normally I would have chased them down but right then I was too concerned for Abby. The house was filled with traps set up by a former owner, before Silvana - though who knows what she had added to that creepy dump - and all that I could imagine was my Abby hurt and bleeding, perhaps held hostage by some maniac. I had to find her.
Entering the house - carefully stepping over the third tile next to the door - I looked around. I heard a scuffle in the front room and drew my weapon, silently switching from wall to wall to get the best view. I suddenly dashed in to see ... Abby, trying to reach the tiles of the ceiling to let down the ladder to the attic - the "room of screams" where the deaths took place. She turned when she heard me enter and screamed in terror until she realized who I was. A brief second of relief flashed through her eyes, followed by an equally legitimate fear of what I would do to her for disobeying.
She had good reason to be nervous. I was about ready to take her over my knee and tan her hide then and there. My relief at seeing her safe and sound had switched to anger.
"Out," I growled between my teeth, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of there. Usually I'm very gentle with my baby, but right then I had no issue being stern. She didn't even struggle against my hold. I think that she had an inkling of how much trouble she was in and did not want to push me right then. Good thing that she didn't. That was the closest that I have ever come to punishing her in the heat of anger. I'm glad that I didn't.
"Drive straight to NCIS. I'll be following you."
She got into her car silently. I saw a tiny tear trickle down the side of her cheek but I was so angry I didn't care ... much. Still, it's hard to see her cry.
When we reached NCIS I parked next to her, went over to her car and pulled her out. I slipped her keys into my pocket. Her eyes grew a little bigger but she didn't protest.
"Lab. Corner. Now."
She ran.
I went and got another cup of coffee, guzzling it down in seconds. The scorching liquid didn't bother me. My mind was somewhere else.
It took me about forty-five minutes before I was ready to deal with Abby. I finally felt calm enough to discipline her. I was still angry at her actions - mark that, her actions not her! - but I was going to use that anger to help me override my compassion to allow me to give her the first part of her consequences.
I strode into the lab. Abby startled and turned to look at me. Her nose was marked from where she had shoved it against the corner for so long. Her eyes were rimmed red and her mascara was gone, leaving behind a few wet streaks on her face and hands from when she had tried to rub it away.
"Why?" I asked.
"I wanted too," she admitted in a tiny voice.
Selfish reasoning - that was the reason why she risked her job, our case, critical evidence, and most precious, her life. My anger was on the verge of returning but I controlled it.
"You'll never want to do anything that dangerous again," I said with determined certainty, setting down the paddle I had brought with me. Abby sniffled miserably and looked at the paddle fearfully. It was given to me by an old Marine commanding officer who had made and used it several times on certain members of his troops during his days training newbies. When my team complain that it's thick and hurts, I can sympathize. However, I also know how effective it is. That's why I use it.
"How many?" she whispered, moving toward a chair in her office. I noticed that her stuffed hippo was positioned nearby. I bet that she placed him there before heading to the corner, knowing that she'd need a little emotional support during this session. At work, I don't discipline her like my daughter. It hurts me to have to be so formal with her when I know she's hurting inside from guilt and remorse and shame but I can't help it. This is how things have to be. After work, at home, I can treat my kids like my kids. Here at NCIS, they have to be my team, my co-workers. That can be hard to remember when I see them bend over in position for their spankings. Abby got in position like so many times before.
"How many do you think?" I ask sternly. I have a personal limit of ten smacks with the "work paddle" for any of my team when they mess up at work. If that seems like too much, remember that I do love them like their my kids. I'm not whaling away on them, trying to burn their stubborn hides.
"I ... I disobeyed you," she whispered.
"Yep." I stayed firm.
"I ... I saw evidence when I got back. You must ... must have brought it in when ... when I was ... gone and that might have placed the case at risk."
"Yep."
She was shivering with anxiety, already having a hard time staying still. This would be hard for both of us.
"I went off on my own during work hours."
I stayed silent. Her admissions were starting to be tinted with more tears.
"I ... I entered a crime scene I was not permitted to enter."
At least she was owning up to it.
"And I ..." Her voice cut out with a mighty sob. I hate when that happens. When she's crying as hard as if she just received the spanking of her life it's hard to even give her one smack.
"What, Abby?" I prompted. I allowed my voice to be a little gentle. After all, it obvious that she knows that what she did was wrong. That's not getting her off the hook for the consequences, but I don't have to be quite a distant and gruff as if she didn't even care about her disobedience.
"I could ... have ... lost my ... job."
The kid was so upset, yet she still hadn't gotten the main fact.
"Forget the job. You could have lost your life!" I just about yelled. She cried harder for a minute. I regained my composure. "You could have lost your life, Abs," I finally repeated more calmly. "You are too special to lose because you couldn't contain your curiosity. I'm the agent. I know things that you don't. There's another person out there killing. You were at risk."
It is so hard to scold her professionally. All I wanted to do was hug her as I scolded her, then turn her over my knee. That would have to come later. She broke "family" rules as well as work rules. She'd answer to "Dad" later after "Boss" was done. For the moment ...
"How many do you think you deserve?" I asked.
"Full ten." My brave, honest girl. She was trembling a little, hating the distance as much as I did, but she was going to take her punishment. It was what I thought was fair, but it is always best when both of us agree.
"That's what I thought too. Hold still." I placed my hand lightly on her back, then raised the paddle high enough to make it sting but not enough to risk really hurting her. Everyone knows, except for Abby herself, that I never spank her as hard with it as I do the boys. They can handle it harder and would probably be even offended if I punished them as lightly as I do Abby. Yes, I spoil Abby but I also keep the closest eye on her. She gets disciplined far more than any of the others along with all of the treats and special favours. Over all, they get about the same impact over time!
Sometimes Abby loves having all my attention, other times she doesn't. This was a time where she likely didn't like it. I gave her the first taste of the paddle and she jumped, starting to cry again. I gave her the second smack, then the third and fourth quickly. She tried to jerk away, tried to get away, but then recollected herself and grabbed Bert in her arms.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed before burying her face in his side. I didn't know if she was sorry for wiggling or sorry for disobeying. Knowing Abby, it was probably both.
She stayed still for the fifth and sixth spanks. Six is usually my limit with her for work spankings. This paddle can teach her enough in six spanks to generally justify ending there, but not today. My heart broke as I forced myself to raise the paddle again. What she did was inexcusable.
THWACK!
She involuntarily kicked, accidentally hitting my leg. I'd been in her position far too many times before to be upset by her struggles. I gave her a little time to settle down again before finishing off the punishment.
"Hold still," I warned. I knew that she wouldn't, but I needed her to control herself as much as possible. "The last three are going to all be fast."
She tensed but didn't scream protests or try to run away. I knew she was repentant but still ...
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
She was muffling her small squeals of pain in Bert's side. I set the paddle on the desk and knelt next to her. I could be "Dad" now for just a second.
"Abs, I'm sorry I had to do that but I can't let you get away with disobeying the rules."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" she was sobbing, scrambling up to her feet and dancing back and forth, the strikes from the paddle still burning her backside. She was broken by the thought of her disobedience, genuinely repentant, and hurting from that hard spanking. I wasn't surprised by the desperation of her hug.
"I forgive you," I murmured into her hair. She stayed there for a minute - a long time for someone who is more like a dragonfly than the average human. She always acts different when she gets paddled at work rather than a normal spanking. She tends to be more quiet, more in need of comfort before being able to fully release her hurt and sadness. I knew that it wouldn't be long before I heard her next question. Soon she was pulling back to look me in the eye.
"Are you still mad?"
"To be clear, I'm mad at your actions, not you."
"That didn't answer my question!" she pouted. "Are you still mad?"
"You've had half of your discipline. I'm also expecting you to do ten hours of free overtime during the next two months and you'll have three days without your music this week. As long as you fulfill those parts of your consequences we're done talking about your work actions."
Abby chewed her lip nervously for a second then asked, "Outside of work?"
"Oh, you're in some of the worst trouble you've been in for a long time."
She dropped her chin and stepped away. I could feel the silent sulky resentment radiating off of her. Her long eyelashes were beaded with tear drops. I know it is hard on her, having to separate our lives, but I could not let this go with just work consequences. My little girl had broken two of our most serious house rules - no direct disobedience, no risking your life unnecessarily. Those rules always resulted in a serious spanking if broken, especially risking a life. But breaking multiple "major" rules? A long, firm, bare bottom spanking was waiting for my Abs, but not right then.
"Do you want a hug or do you need a little time on your own?" I offered.
"Just leave me alone," she muttered grumpily, scrubbing her face with a tissue.
"Okay," I told her, stepping away.
"Wait!"
Just as I knew she would, she rushed me and grabbed on in a fierce hug.
"Shh, shh," I soothed her. This happens nearly every time. She battles between her need for love and her pride, she gives pride a chance, then love wins. I'm always willing to wait for her to be ready for a hug. Too early, she'd hate me. Too late, she'd hate me more. I've learned to give her comfort on her time schedule.
"I'll be here to pick you up in two hours," I finally said. "Not a foot outside of this lab. Start running the new evidence."
"Okay," she agreed meekly. "Dad" time was back.
"I love you, Abs," I told her, kissing the top of her head.
"I know," she snuffled.
...
Up next: home consequences. I hope that Gibbs hasn't come across as unfeeling or too harsh. He really does love his Abby, as do I!