Title: Stolen in the Night

Author: Jeana a.k.a. the-Bookworm-Princess

Spoilers: nada, zilch, zero, none

Pairing: Wouldn't you like to know? Muahaha…

Summary: "Don't make a sound or I'll cut your throat!" a gruff voice threatened her.

Disclaimer: Navy NCIS is the property of Belisaurius, Paramount, DPB, CBS, and all that jazz...The characters just run around in my head all day long, so I put them to work.

Author's Note: Here, as promised, is my new story. I would like to thank Hannah my editor, best friend, massage therapist, psychiatrist, and fellow grammar freak. Oh, and her brother, too. Hannah, I want to apologize for all the 'dangling prepositions' and hyphens without spaces and for my incessant babbling at times. If you have an abhoration of asterisks from now on, I am completely to blame. ;) Merci beaucoup to my beta, nikkinor. Girl, you rock. Thanks for the title, and for catching my omissions. Well, without any further ado, I give you Stolen in the Night.

Chapter 1- The Cover of Darkness

Forensic specialist Abigail Sciuto spun around in circles in her swivel chair. Her black pigtails gently slapped her face as she changed directions. 'Come on, come on. Hurry up!' Abby impatiently waited for the results from a fingerprint scan. Suddenly, her computer screen began flashing and the green words "Positive Match" blinked under the prints. "Finally," she muttered. She looked at the clock as she saved the results; it was 7:30 in the evening. Everyone else had already left, and Gibbs had told her to go home, but she wanted to run this test today, and so he let her. She turned off her computer and the few machines she had left on. She hung up her lab coat and flipped off the lights. Abby decided to go out the back way because it was closer to her car. She stepped out in the cold night air and immediately wished she had remembered her coat that morning.

As she walked through the alley on her way to the parking lot, she had a strange feeling of uneasiness. A feeling in her gut told her something wasn't right. The alley was always quiet, but this was an eerie sort of quiet. She glanced around furtively and began to quicken her pace; suddenly she stopped. 'Cut it out,' she chided herself, 'you're just being paranoid.' She looked around once more and, satisfied that nothing was amiss, continued walking. Suddenly, she felt a huge hand clamp over her mouth, and the cold, steel blade of a knife at her throat!

"Don't make a sound or I'll cut your throat!" a gruff voice threatened her. She nodded gently, the blade nearly pricking the skin above her dog collar. She knew better than to try to fight him; he'd slice her jugular in a second. Instead, she surreptitiously removed the red and silver studded bracelet from her left wrist. Then she brought her hands up to her mouth and sneezed loudly as she dropped it, muffling the noise of its fall.

"Come with me." He kept the knife on her neck, removed his hand from her mouth and put it around her waist, then dragged her off through the alley.

Abby's captor took her into a side entrance to the alley, where a large van was parked. The man holding her called out, "Owen! Owen, dang it! Open the door!"

The van's door opened and the man called Owen got out. He was tall and muscular with brown crew-cut hair. He ran around to the back of the van and opened the doors. "Give her to me, Travis; you drive." Travis thrust Abby towards Owen, who grabbed her. Abby couldn't catch a glimpse of Travis when he ran to the front of the van because Owen immediately shoved her roughly onto the floor of the vehicle.

As Owen tied her hands behind her back, she silently wished that she had listened when Gibbs told her to go home. Then she heard the sound of duct tape ripping and groaned. Owen laughed cruelly as he placed the tape across her mouth. She lurched forward as the vehicle took off down the alley.

They drove for several miles, making many turns. Travis swore as the van stopped for the third time. "We've hit every stinkin' red light!" Travis swore again, and then they took off, heading straight for several miles. One more turn, and then the van pulled to a halt.

Abby heard Travis get out, and then Owen opened the back door of the van. Travis grabbed her and pulled and her out. "C'mon, this way." Abby didn't move, but looked around frantically, trying to see where they were. They had parked behind an old abandoned travel agency building, and Abby saw an address plate reading 613 Sunset Boulevard.

"Don't make me use my knife!" Travis threatened, drawing the weapon from his pocket. She relaxed her stance and allowed herself to be led into the building.

They pushed her inside the building and into a room at the back. Travis shoved her into a chair next to a table. Abby cried aloud in pain as Owen ripped the tape off of her face. "Get used to it," he said harshly, "that's going right back on as soon as we record you reading this ransom note."

Travis slammed a piece of paper down on the table. "That's right. You're gonna recite this for the camera, and I don't want any funny business, understand?" Abby nodded timidly. "Good. Owen, you all set?"

"Yeah." He took Abby roughly by the arm and dragged her and the chair over to a corner of the room where white sheets had been hung on the wall and placed on the floor.

Abby's mind raced as she tried to think of some way to let whomever got the video--she had heard them mention something about NCIS--know where she was being held. Suddenly, she thought of a plan! If only they didn't tie her up…

Owen forced her into the chair and stood behind her. He put one arm around her waist, pinning her. He lowered his head so it was next to hers. "Now, Abby, isn't it?" he asked lasciviously.

"Ms. Sciuto to you," she spat.

He let out a sinister chuckle, and with his free hand withdrew his knife and pressed it hard against her neck. "Alright then, Ms. Sciuto, when Travis gives you the signal, you say what we gave you, got it?"

Abby nodded, the tip of the knife nicking her. She winced, but was inwardly ecstatic; they hadn't tied her up!

Travis fumbled with the camera for a second, and then a red light came on. He pointed to Abby.

She addressed the first person that came to mind, "Hey, Gibbs. It's Abby. Guess I shoulda listened when you told me to go home." She chuckled nervously, hoping that they wouldn't catch on to what she was doing. "Anyways, these two fine gentlemen here want something from you, and they say that they won't let me go until they get it."

"Your little techie here is only half right. We don't want something from you, Gibbs, we want you."

'What?! No money demands?' Abby thought. 'Then this must be something personal.'

"You want the girl back? Then meet me at Coleman Park at 9:00, Thursday night. Oh, and if you ever want to see your little lab rat alive again--" he pressed the knife harder to her throat, and a small trail of blood trickled down her neck "--then don't bring any cops."

The light on the camera disappeared. "Very nice. Thank you for being so cooperative. Owen, make our guest comfortable."

There was something about the way that Travis said 'comfortable' that made Abby shiver.

"Gladly," Owen growled, grinning menacingly.

Owen grabbed Abby by the shoulders and took her into the next room. He shoved her into another chair, and was about to tie her hands.

"WAIT!" she cried, jerking her hands free.

"What?" he asked, irritated.

"I need to go to the bathroom." It was true, but really she wanted to search for some means of escape.

Owen cursed and grabbed her. "Alright, come on!" He led her to a room across the hall, and pushed her inside. He had already thoroughly checked out the room, and knew that escape was impossible. "And make it snappy!" he commanded as she shut the door.

Abby began exploring the bathroom. It was small, only ten steps in each direction. The ceiling didn't hit her head, but if she reached up, she could easily touch it. There were no windows or doors, except for the one through which she had come. She used the toilet, disgusting though it was, and then went over to the sink. The faucet was rusty and corroded, and when Abby turned it on, icy water trickled out. She shuddered and quickly washed her hands; she was already cold, and this only made her more so. She could find nothing with which to dry her hands, and so wiped them on her black cargo pants. Abby began exploring the walls again trying to find a crack or hole, when Owen pounded on the door.

"Hurry up in there!" he said gruffly.

Abby scurried back to the door. "I'm coming, sheesh! You could try to be a little nicer."

Owen chuckled. "I don't think so." He grabbed her arm, and took her back across the hall. He shoved her down roughly in the chair, yanked her arms behind it, and tied them together with rope.

Abby grunted. "Would it kill you to be a little gentler?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife which he pressed against her throat. "No, but it might kill you."

Abby decided that silence might be the best thing for her right now. Owen crouched down and tied her ankles to the chair as well. She heard the now familiar sound of duct tape and groaned. He taped her mouth and then left the room. Abby tried wriggling her wrists to loosen her bonds, but to no avail. She sighed; this was going to be a long night.