Abby Dearest

By Lancer47

AKA STFarnham

Disclaimer: I'm playing on NCIS turf (the TV show, not the Federal Agency) for fun but not for profit.

Spoilers: Nothing more than a few quotes from seasons past.

Rating: M for language.

Summary: If you value your life, do not make Abby Sciuto angry.

Abby Sciuto: McGee, never forget: I am one of the few people in the world who can murder you and leave no forensic evidence.

Gibbs: We gonna jump through any legal hoops?
Abby Sciuto: Oh, that's kind of a gray area.
Gibbs: How gray?
Abby Sciuto: Charcoal.

Corporal Litton woke up, groggy, confused, wrapped to a table with plastic, naked, a bright light shining in his eyes making it hard to see the plastic sheathed walls. As he began to understand how bad his situation was, his eyes started shifting around wildly, his heart rate increased insistently and he hoped he wouldn't have a heart attack. "Shit," he thought, "I'm fucked."

"What the HELL!" he shouted, "what the FUCK is this?" A woman came into his view, he tried to turn his head but a head strap kept him from moving much. "What the hell is going on?" he asked shakily, unsuccessfully trying to control his mounting fear.

"Hi there Corporal Litton!" the woman said chirpily. "My name's Abby, and I'm gonna be your executioner tonight!"


"I suppose you're wondering why you're here? All strapped down, naked and helpless, with pictures of your former victims hanging on the plastic?"

"What, what, what is this, a practical joke? You know my favorite show is Dexter, right? Right?"

"In the first place, Dexter is written and produced by Hollywood people, not actual forensic technicians. They consult, of course, but I think they may purposely put in errors just to keep ordinary people from getting away with murder."


"I'm so sorry corporal, but this is no joke."

"But it's gotta be! I've memorized all of Dexter, you're punkin' me, I jus' know it. You've duped a set from the show, right?"

"No punking involved, no set, no Dexter. Besides, compared to me, Dexter is a rank amateur, but I'm the real deal."

"But why are you doing this? You're not really gonna kill me, are you? This just can't be real!"

"Sorry, but I'm really gonna kill you tonight. As for why, well, you see you raped my cousin Ariel – that one, on the end." She pointed to one of the pictures hanging from the plastic wrapped walls.

He whined, "But I didn't kill her!"

"That's true, but you really hurt her, both physically and mentally. She'll recover physically in a few weeks or so, but she may never trust any man ever again. She's gonna be in therapy for years; she isn't as tough as I am, she's a sweet girl, not like me at all.

"But after Arial, you escalated, as criminals often do, and you did kill these others, Jane Eisel, Willy Mae Scruggs and Beverly Oxford-Tate. Beverly was truly beautiful, she speaks to me from across the great divide of death, of course all of them do, but I could've fallen for Beverly – I go both ways, ya know."

"But you didn't know any of them, did you?" he asked desperately, "I mean, they aren't your cousins, are they?"

"No: I never met any of them and they're not related to me, but you see, I hate rapists and I despise murderers – my life's work is putting the likes of you behind bars. Normally I do this legally; by analyzing evidence gathered by investigators, you would've been arrested, tried, convicted, and in due course sentenced to a date with a lethal dose of sodium thiopental, pancuronium bromide, and potassium chloride. But for a change – you having made this so personal with Ariel – I had take care of you directly, without regard to all those pesky rules and investigations and Miranda rights and stuff.

"And the reason I have to do this, you see, is because in this case an error was made, not by me, not even by the agents who collect evidence for me, but by a rookie cop who managed to break the chain of evidence on the receipt that led us to your rental storage which contained all the evidence of your nighttime activities. It was so important that all the physical evidence we have on you would have been 'fruit of the poisoned tree', which means you would have missed the death penalty, at the very least, and maybe you even would have been found innocent – reasonable doubt, you see. So I fixed it, and here you are!" She did another little dance step and twirled, letting her short skirt show off her legs.

"But if you kill me, that would bring you down to my level!"

Abby sighed heavily, "Yes, but sacrifices have to be made if I'm to make my little corner of the world a more peaceful place.

"Come on, you're just makin' excuses now, you don't believe that, that's a quote right out of Dexter."

"It is? I don't remember it. I must have missed that episode."


"Oh I know this one!" she replied with a twinkle in her eyes, "If I let you go now, you'll promise to 'never never never hurt anyone ever again, cross my heart and hope to die!' Am I right, huh? Am I right?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course I promise. Besides, you're not gonna chop me up like a butcher, are you now? I mean, you'd get all bloody."

"Well, Dexter apparently enjoys chopping up bodies, all the really messy parts. But me? I'm just gonna dissolve your corpse in a plastic bin full of acid, then pour you down the drain. Much easier to accomplish and much harder for forensic science to detect."

"Plastic bin? What kind of acid...?"

"What's the matter, didn't you ever watch 'Breaking Bad'?"


"I guess not. You see, hydrofluoric acid doesn't dissolve plastic, but does nearly everything else. However, to tell you the truth, and I might as well be completely truthful with you since you're definitely gonna take it to your grave, I'm not gonna use hydrofluoric acid because it's too hard to explain why I need to buy gallons of the stuff plus it's really hard to handle safely – I would need all sorts of special protective gear to protect my own health – and then I'd probably have to explain to some officious busybody just what I needed it for and that would not be so easy. No, I'll just use plain old lye mixed with water. It's cheaper, safer, no one tracks the sales, it's easy to buy, it's very effective, it'll take a little longer but it's altogether a better solution. Hah! 'A better solution', nice little pun, don'tcha think?"

"No, I don't find it funny. NOW LET ME GO! THE JOKE'S OVER!"

Abby continued, "Now lye isn't completely perfect; chunks of bone, teeth, fillings, and maybe other stuff will be left over. Are there any metal or plastic parts in your body? No? Okay, so after a few days in the lye solution your body will have turned to sludge, I'll dilute the solution with more water, filter out the solids and use hydrofluoric acid to dissolve the little that's left. But I'll need a much smaller amount of acid, a pint at the most, so not much trouble for me to acquire, easy to come up with some sort of reason. You'll end up dissolved into your chemical components, diluted with hundreds of gallons of water, washed down the drain.

"And what's really cool, even if somebody at the water treatment plant somehow discovers molecules that can be identified as human remains, which is extremely unlikely, what do you think the chances are that they could trace it back to this location?"

She paused and allowed him to think about it. Finally she asked, "So seriously, what do you think of my plan?"

"I think you're fuckin' bug-nuts crazy, lady."

"Often said, never proved," she with a grin, twirling a quick dance step.

"Please, please let me loose before this has gone too far. I mean, seriously," he pleaded, "what did I ever do to you? With all those pics, were you like, stalking me or somethin'?"

" 'If it seems like someone is out to get you, they are'. Well, in this case, I was out to get you. On the other hand, if you weren't a murdering rapist, you wouldn't be strapped to my table tonight. Now say goodnight."

"Wait! Let's talk some more."

"You think you can talk me out of this course of action?" she asked with a gentle smile. "I mean, look, I even brought you some of my black roses. I'll even throw them in with you afterwards."

"Black roses? Fuck your black roses! Fuckin' give me a chance to live, to see my family again! I mean seriously, what could be worse than being murdered in cold blood on a plastic wrapped slab?"

"Oh I don't know, how about planted on a barbed wire fence so you die a slow gruesome death, or thrown into a wood chipper, or tossed in flowing lava, or fed to a shark, slowly, a bite at a time? Compared to those, you've got it easy: you're just going to sleep."

"Please?" he whimpered.

"No, now be quiet. I have to prepare the shots." She picked up her hypodermic and pushed the needle into a small bottle marked 'M-99 – For Veterinary Use Only'. She loaded exactly the right amount and held it up to the light and carefully tapped the cylinder to make sure there were no bubbles.

"The first step is a powerful tranquilizer," she said as she wiped the side of his neck with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. "We wouldn't want any extraneous infections now, would we?" she added as she put away the cotton and alcohol. "The second step is a shot of – well, you'll be unconscious by then and won't really care, will you?

"So this is it, goodbye, Corporal Litton." She gently slipped the needle into a vein and pressed the plunger.

"Wait...!" he cried as his eyes closed and he went to sleep for the last time in his life.

Then she prepared a new syringe from a small bottle labeled with a skull and crossbones. She handled it carefully and deliberately, she had no intention of accidentally jabbing herself, then injected the solution directly into the corporal's chest. Then she put the syringes and needles into a small box ready for disposal with the body and the rest of her tools. She placed her fingers on his neck and felt for his pulse. She waited patiently while the pulse dropped, dropped, dropped, and finally she could no longer detect it. She double checked with a mirror over his mouth, no breath.

Abby said to the now dead corporal, "There, that wasn't so bad, was it? A lot nicer death than you deserved, but even vicious animals don't deserve to suffer."

She woke up her laptop, streamed a heavy metal station and started humming and dancing lightly in sync with the music as she set about mixing lye and water and heating it in preparation for step one in erasing the evidence of her...

She had to stop and think about what word to use to describe her activity tonight: peccadillo? An indiscretion, perhaps. The actual act of killing didn't do a thing for her, it was just another item on her to-do list, like taking out the trash. Although technically unlawful, she certainly wouldn't consider it a crime, nor murder, never, for she wasn't a criminal, and definitely not a murderer, was she? Of course not, she was Abby, never Dexter. She was merely correcting an injustice, that's all. She told herself that, over and over and over.

The End