Title: Nostalgia
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Up to and including Judgment Day.
Summary: Some things never change.
Author's Note: This sprang up out of the blue – it has no plot, but it's a series of snapshot moments ranging from when Abby and Gibbs first met to twenty years down the line. I don't think Abby will have mellowed out much by 2021, so I've written her as the same character she's always been… And Gibbs will always be Gibbs.
***
April 14th, 2021
The front door slams shut, and Gibbs glances toward the hallway as something thuds to the floor. Abby limps into the room, dressed in one of her ill-fitting pastel suits, and throws herself down on the couch with a sigh. Amused, Gibbs mentally predicts the words she speaks.
"I hate court!"
Her heels have been abandoned on the doormat, and Gibbs motions for her to put her feet in his lap, beginning to massage them. She sags against the cushions, smiling, and steals a swallow of his coffee.
"Is it over?" he asks, taking the mug back before she can drink the entire contents.
"The jury voted to convict," she says with satisfaction. "My testimony rocked. The defence attorney hardly even cross-examined me… I was kinda disappointed."
"Just be glad you don't have to wear the heels tomorrow," he replies, squeezing her toes.
"Amen to that." She's quiet for a moment, but something seems to hit her, and she grins. "Guess who I saw in the courthouse?"
From her enthusiasm, he surmises it's someone from their mutual past, but after all these years it'd take him too long to pin it down. "Who?"
"Jimmy Palmer."
He hasn't thought of Palmer in a while. The last time he saw the medical examiner, he was Ducky's assistant at NCIS. Young, green and easily intimidated, Palmer had nevertheless been an invaluable addition to the morgue. Once he finished medical school, Fornell and the FBI snapped him up as a fully-fledged ME.
"How's he doing?"
Abby nods affectionately. "He's good. He just got engaged to Agent Krieger – who'd have thought?"
That surprises him. Then again, Palmer's always had a thing for federal agents. "He still waiting for Ducky to retire so he can come back to work for us?"
"Ideally, yeah, but he says he knows Ducky'd die before he'd retire." Abby reaches for the stack of papers she left on the coffee table and begins idly flicking through them.
Gibbs knows it's the truth. Ducky's approaching his mid-seventies, but he loves his job, and to him 'retirement' is a dirty word. NCIS' budget was too small for two full-time medical examiners, but Palmer didn't take the decision to leave lightly. It must be over ten years since he left the Navy Yard, but it doesn't seem that long to Gibbs.
The same thought's going through Abby's mind. Cocking her head to one side, she says, "Hmm. That came around fast."
"What did?"
"It's been twenty years this month since you hired me."
With a quick mental calculation, he realises she's right, and the thought takes him by surprise. After his disastrous track record with women, three divorces, countless girlfriends driven away… along came Abby. She's been a constant in his life for twenty years, far longer than any other woman he's been with.
***
Introductions
April 2nd, 2001
"You haven't met the new forensic scientist yet, have you, Gibbs?" Director Morrow looks over at him as he presses the down button on the elevator, his face carefully unreadable. Gibbs has worked with the man for enough years to know there's something about the new lab tech that will surprise him. What, he's yet to find out.
"Been a little busy to go that far underground, sir." He doesn't spend much time in the labs. He's never had a head for science, and the new advances in technology that go along with the chemistry don't fuel his enthusiasm.
The elevator stops, and the doors open. Gibbs is immediately struck by a wave of what can only be described as noise, and he casts a glance over at the Director. Morrow only raises an eyebrow, and Gibbs follows him into the lab, which is littered with dolls, electrical equipment and CDs. Of the new girl, there's no sign.
Gibbs picks up one of the dolls. It's wearing heavy black makeup and not a few piercings, and he sets it down again carefully, beginning to sense the reason behind Morrow's diplomatic countenance.
He yells over the music, "You said you headhunted her?"
Morrow allows himself a small smile as he nods. Then his eyes flick over Gibbs' shoulder, just as something knocks into him.
Turning, Gibbs instinctively puts a hand out to steady the whirlwind of red and black that spins to face him. A pair of startled green eyes looks up into his, and widen slightly as she takes him in. He's left with the impression of a slight, intrigued smile before she speaks.
"Sorry! I was kinda in my own world there." He lip-reads the words rather than hears them. She looks past him to where the Director is standing, and winces a little as she runs through to the office, muting the music that thunders through the lab.
"Abigail Sciuto, meet Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs," Morrow says dryly, not bothering to reprimand her.
She shakes Gibbs' hand with a smile, and he tries not to stare at her pigtails, dark makeup and crimson-and-black mini-dress. Only the white lab coat slung over one arm indicates that she might be a scientist. She's young and a little hyperactive, and he gets the impression she's assessing him in the same split-second that he's analysing her.
"Agent Gibbs…" She frowns at him for a second, but then her expression lightens. "The Moriarty case, right? I was just about to try and track you down. I have results."
Before he can reply, she addresses the Director. "Wait a sec. I have those forms you wanted." And then she's skittered into the back room again, leaving Gibbs to stare at Morrow in bemusement.
"You're telling me she knows forensics?"
"Give her a chance, Jethro."
Abby appears again, holding out a sheaf of completed forms to Morrow. "Sorry I didn't get them to you before. The guy who was here before me was a total slob – I'm in the middle of reorganising everything."
"Is there anything you need?"
"I get the feeling a new gas chromatograph's off the table…"
"It is."
She smiles, shrugs. "Never hurts to ask."
Morrow shakes his head, amused. "I'll leave you with Agent Gibbs. Let me know if you need anything less expensive."
As he heads for the elevator, Abby moves a pile of wires off her workbench and begins tapping commands into her computer. "Okay. So I ran the prints through AFIS, which, by the way, is my favourite database in the entire world, and I came up with… this."
The result blinks up on screen, and Gibbs leans closer to read the small print. "Ex-Petty Officer Damian Curtis." He interviewed the guy earlier in the case, and something didn't sit well with him. Now he has a little more to work on. "Good job."
Without wasting time on small talk, he turns and makes for the door. Her next words bring him up short. "And yeah, I do know forensics. I have a post-grad degree in forensic sciences and I graduated second in my class. I drink so much caffeine that I hardly sleep, and trust me, that's a good thing from what I've heard about working here. You wouldn't be judging a book by its cover, now would you, Agent Gibbs?"
With most people, he'd be irritated. But this paradoxically cheerful Goth woman speaks the words almost flippantly, as if she doesn't particularly care what he thinks of her, and that racks up a few points in her favour.
Something bugs him about the emphatic gestures that accompany her words. They seem almost familiar… A split-second later, he realises they form disjointed words in sign language – not clear, coherent sentences but the odd word tossed in here and there.
Interesting.
Point taken, he signs to her instead of replying out loud, and her eyebrows shoot up.
You sign?
He only nods and leaves her to her work. Behind him, he hears an indrawn breath, as if she was about to call out after him but has thought better of it. As he steps into the elevator, the wall of noise hits him again, and he glances back to find her looking after him thoughtfully. When their eyes meet, she grins, waving until the elevator doors shut after him.
Only when he's alone does he allow himself to laugh softly. She's a piece of work. If her forensic methods are half as arresting as her personality, he can see why the Director's willing to let her flout the dress code so openly.
***
This one'll be multi-chaptered. Any thoughts?
