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Challenge: ncis_drabble; Challenge #78 - Red
Word Count: 5 x 100
Spoilers: 01x16 Bête Noire; 02x23 Twilight; 03x02 Kill Ari Part 2
Crossposted: ncis_drabble; ncisfanfic; ncis_haven
Summary: From apples to roses, red means many things for Abigail Sciuto...
Red. It was my first spoken word, or so anyone knew. With two deaf parents, it was hard to say if I ever said a word before that. I was three years old when my parents hired someone to work with my speaking abilities. They wanted me to be normal and not hindered because my parents lacked the ability to hear me. The speech pathologist was sharing a lunch with me and held up the apple to ask me what color it was. I moved my index finger from my lips downward several times before finally saying one word, “Red.”
Red. I threw my purse against my bedroom wall and swiped my hand across my blood shot eyes. I wanted nothing more than to scream as loud as I could, but I didn’t. My parents wouldn’t know, but I would know. Instead, I saw the single rose Matt had given me just the day before, the day before he dumped me at prom. I pulled the red rose from the vase by my bed and started plucking the petals from it one by one. As each petal fell to the floor, I told myself that I would never love again.
Red. Most people would be freaked by the stuff I get to see and work with on a daily basis, but not me. It fascinates me how much we can learn about a person from a single drop of their blood. I look at blood as a mystery waiting to be solved, a riddle that needs an answer, a puzzle waiting for me to connect the pieces. Nobody (except Gibbs, because he knows everything) knows how I sometimes run tests on my blood and occasionally my coworkers. Blood will never cease to amaze me with all the secrets it holds.
Red. It’s just a dream, a bête noire. But the last time I had one, I was cut open on Ducky’s autopsy table. This time it’s Tony with blood all over his face. Tony shouldn’t have blood on him. The blood should be on the inside not the outside. I grabbed Bert for comfort, but it didn’t help. Every time I closed my eyes, even for a second, I saw him with the blood on his face. I told Kate. It was her that changed my bête noire last time; maybe she can do it again. She can save Tony.
Red. I hadn’t touched a red rose since the day I shredded the one Matt gave me. From that point on, it was always black and nothing else. A therapist might see something wrong for that little problem, but I could care less. The events of the past made me who I am and I’m proud of myself. But as I prepared to attend her funeral, I knew that I couldn’t leave her a black rose. Black symbolized happiness and if I gave it to her, it would take my happiness away. So I chose red for sorrow and loss.
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