Archive of Our Own ^beta

 

“Uh, Boss, I went down to Abby to ask about the second test, and she said, 'Train Gone.' That's all she said. I don't know what that means, or why she said it.” He looked a little nervous.

 

“Dammit. I was afraid of that.” Gibbs sighed. “Okay. So, the test is out. So, we've got to prove this without that evidence.”

 

“Boss, what happened? What's that about a train?” Tony perked up, interested.

 

“Nothing about a train, DiNozzo, whatever gave you that idea?” Gibbs looked confused.

 

“But Abby said...” Now McGee was confused, too.

 

Gibbs shook his head. “No, Abby said, 'TRAIN-GONE'.” He demonstrated the sign with his hands.

 

“Huh?” They both looked at him quizzically.

 

Gibbs sighed again, this time exasperatedly. “Idiom.” He held off on the 'Idiots' he wanted to add. “Elvis has left the building. Snooze you lose. No chance, nada...” He rattled off a couple more similar idioms.

 

“Ohhhh.” They chorused as one. “Why didn't she just say that?” Tim added

 

“You were the one who said her mind was like a Pachinko Machine, McGee. You tell me.” He grinned at the thought of Abby hearing that.

 

“Yeah, you're right...” The young man returned to his desk. “Well, we could go back to the ...” They lost themselves in the case.

April, 1991

 

Gunnery Sgt. Gibbs lay in the hospital bed, the eerie silence surrounding him. It was unnerving. Before, even when he was alone, he heard his own heart, his breathing. None of that came through now. If he was understanding the doctors right, they thought the loss would be temporary, but they weren't sure. They'd brought in a teacher for him.

 

He felt like a raw recruit having to learn everything over again. He looked down at his scarred hands, trying to get them to shape themselves into the letters of his name. G. That one was easy. It looked like the way he held a gun or a finger point. I. Pinky. Okay, he could do that one. B. That one, he had to set his thumb across the palm of his hand. It ached a little, but it was worth it. To double the letter, he had to bounce it like he was shaking his finger at Kelly. He froze. He couldn't think of them now. He had to figure out how to communicate to find out what happened. So, he searched his mind for another metaphor. Like punching. Except gentle. There. Double the B. Okay. Then, the S. Make a fist. That was kind of like punching. He could spell his name. He couldn't say much else yet, but it was a start. Even if the explosion hadn't taken his hearing permanently, he would learn this, so that if he ever were in the situation again, he could get through it. Besides, he could probably find several other uses for it.

 

He would survive, even if he couldn't hear. He had to.

 

Where did I put that? Oh, there it is. Yay! Hmm. I'm curious about all my new co-workers. Especially that one with silver hair. He's interesting. And so handsome.

 

“Why thank you,” Gibbs found himself replying out loud.

 

The young woman screamed, and dropped her beaker to the ground. It shattered, and she turned, glaring at him. “It's not nice to spy on people.”

 

“I wasn't. I wasn't expecting to listen to your inner monologue.” He stepped out of the shadows and reached for the broom, helping her clean up the glass.

 

“I wasn't expecting to find anybody able to understand my inner monologue.” She grinned, switching to sign. Do you sign as well as you understand it?

 

He nodded, replying in kind. Yeah. I was involved in an explosion, and I lost my hearing.

 

It's all better now? Abby looked him over as if a visual inspection could tell how well his ears worked. He snorted at that. What's so funny?

 

You can't tell how well I hear by looking. That's silly. He grinned. Where'd you learn to sign?

 

Mom and Dad are Deaf. Gibbs nodded at her response.

 

Ahh, I see. You're a CODA. The acronym stood for “Child of Deaf Adults.” Gibbs personally thought they had set it that way so that people could say the word.

 

She nodded. Now we have a way to talk that's our little secret. She grinned, moving over to hug him as if he were a member of her family's Deaf Club.

 

At first, he was thrown, but then he remembered his tutor explaining that it was a common greeting. So, he hugged her back, chuckling at the whole thing. I think we'll be good friends, he signed when they pulled apart.

 

I agree, she signed, using the Y form of the sign, the movements between them long and punctuated.

Abby's fingers flew. She was nervous, and when she got this nervous, her English disappeared and she slipped back into her first language. Where's Gibbs. Need Gibbs. His sign, a G-salute, got thrown in a few more times.

 

She turned at the soft hand on her shoulder. I'm right here. He just ran his hand down in front of him, the signed equivalent of, “Tada, here I am!”

 

“Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs,” Abby tried to explain the problem with English, but it wouldn't come. Finally, she broke down into sign. This guy over here (on the right) wasn't the one. It was the other guy (on the left). But the guy on the right and the guy on the left are related. Not brothers. Not father and son. Cousins, maybe?

 

“Which one's which, Abbs?” He pointed to one, and watched as she spelled out the name. He nodded as he 'listened', and then pulled her in for a hug. “What's got you so upset about this one, Abbs?”

 

“I don't know, Gibbs,” Abby replied, glad to be calm enough again to speak. “There's something so hinky about this guy. I mean, if he really did it, what did he gain? I know that's usually your thing, but I don't know. Something isn't settling well, Gibbs, and that always messes things up.”

 

“We'll look into it, Abbs. Thank you.” He hugged her again, and strode out, already on the phone and barking orders to the team.

 

A week later, it was Gibbs striding down into the lab with a smile on his face and his fingers turning around and pointing in the air in the SUCCESS sign.

 

“Huh?” Abby blinked.

 

“You solved our case, Abbs.” He hugged her in greeting, and pulled out a stool, sitting down for a moment.

 

“Which one? I solve a lot of cases for you. Well, the evidence does.” She pulled out the other stool, and faced him, sure they could see each other's faces and bodies.

 

“The one with the cousins. Guy was being blackmailed. If you hadn't had us look into the cousin, nobody would have noticed.”

 

“Wow, that's kinda cool!” Abby grinned.

 

“Kinda was, yeah.” Gibbs switched to sign. Everything okay down here?

 

Yeah, it's been slow today. She drew out the SLOW sign, showing just how slow it had been.

 

Want to go get some dinner tonight? The team's doing something. Ducky can't, and Jimmy can't, but everybody else is going. He'd decided to join them for once.

 

Wouldn't miss it. Abby grinned, hugged him, and then signed again. Now shoo. If we're going out, I need to finish my stack of paperwork.

 

Gibbs chuckled, and waved to her as he headed out of the lab. She grinned to herself, turned the music back on, and went into her office to try to finish quickly.