A/N: Thanks to everyone who has already read and reviewed this chapter. I honestly had no idea how completely screwed the formatting was. This is my second upload attempt, hopefully the formatting is what the author intended, not some weird computer garble. Enjoy! Chapter two will be coming very soon. :)

This is my first NCIS fanfic and I haven't written a word for four years, so please do let me know if this is terrible. The chapters are going to be quite short, but at least it means you should get them regularly. Also, I conceived this story before I'd seen Season 12, so it's written as though Delilah never existed, hence the OC that's coming in the next chapter. I hope that doesn't annoy too many people. Enjoy!

"Ask the girl out, McRomeo, and be done already. What's the worst that can happen, right?"
"I have asked her, Tony. Every week. She keeps saying no."
"But she likes you. Everyone knows that. Even Mike the Janitor is asking when you guys are going to start shacking up together. It's like the most annoying soap ever."
McGee shot Tony an annoyed look."I'm sorry if my personal life is frustrating you. I can't imagine what that must feel like," he said sarcastically.
"Calm down, McGee. It's only because we care. Bishop, you care, right?"
"Of course I do," said Ellie, looking up from the papers on her desk. "Maybe there's a reason she keeps saying no. She could have had a failed relationship and doesn't want to get hurt again. Or she just doesn't want to get involved with anyone at work."
"Maybe she's involved in a secret mission for the CIA, and you'd be a liability." Tony turned the thought over in his mind, doing his Al Capone impression, "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."
"Right, well, I'm leaving fantasy land to go check on the DNA results. You two have fun with the fairies," McGee said as he got up and walked to the elevator.
"Sure thing, Tim," Tony said, returning to his desk. "Tell Mata Hari that I said hi!" Tony snickered at his own joke as he got back to work.

It had all started five weeks ago, when the Director called Abby up to his office.
"Please come in, Miss Sciuto," said Vance, holding the door for her as she entered. He motioned to a seat.
"Thanks, Director. What's up?" Abby sat down as Vance sat in front of her.
"I wanted to talk to you about your work, Abby, if you don't mind."
"Is there anything wrong?"
"No, no, of course not. Your work, as always, is exemplary."
"Then what's the problem?" Abby was confused.
Vance considered the woman sitting opposite him. 5"11 with knee high boots, short skirt and skull-embossed shirt. She had her dog collar, dyed black hair and dark lipstick. Never in his life would he have thought by looking at her that she possessed one of the keenest scientific minds he would ever encounter. He paused a moment before answering.
"No problem, Miss Sciuto. In fact, I called you in here to offer you some help."
"Help?"
"An assistant."
Abby immediately became uncomfortable, her protestations forming on her lips. Vance held up a hand. "Just hear me out for a minute. I am aware that your track record with outsiders in your lab isn't good, but the work is coming thick and fast, and all forecasts point to that continuing. In addition, I receive several requests a month for your assistance on cases from other agencies. I'm getting tired of having to turn them down. It doesn't look good when it comes to inter-agency co-operation, but I have to consider how hard you work on NCIS cases, and therefore cannot ask you in our present conditions to take on extra work. Your days are already much too long."
"I don't mind, Director, really. NCIS is my home. My whole family is here."
"I know that Abby," Vance said kindly, "But the fact is that this is a job, and you shouldn't allow it to take over your life so completely. You do good work here, and heavens knows how we'd get along without you, but there needs to be a life for you outside of NCIS. So, I've been thinking about how best to reduce your working hours to a reasonable rate and give you time to work with other agencies if and when they request your expertise," he smiled encouragingly. "And I've come up with a solution."
"An assistant?" Abby was almost incredulous. She couldn't believe that she would have to go through this again. She wondered how long she'd have before her new lab partner tried to kill her this time.
"I know how nervous you are about this," Vance said as he walked back to his desk, fingers buttoning his suit jacket. "And I can't say I'm surprised, not with your history." He laughed, inviting her to share the joke. Abby could only feebly smile in return. "Think about it, Abby. An assistant would be able to do the basics, saving yourself for the more difficult forensic work." Vance lifted a pile of six folders on his desk, offering them to her. "These are candidates for the position. They've had all their checks done, and I would be happy to approve any of them, whichever one you choose."
"I choose?" Abby said in surprise.
"Yes, you. It'll be your choice Miss Sciuto. I'm trusting you to choose someone you can get along with."
"You mean someone who isn't a homicidal maniac," Abby said wryly, taking the folders.
Vance smiled. "Just so, Miss Sciuto. That will be all."