So, this weekend I got food poisoning while working at an academic conference out of town, had to travel home sick, lost all of Monday recovering, and now have 200+ emails in my box that need attention and have killed any chance I had of using my comp days for a (much-needed) four day weekend. The good news is that while I spent my Monday lying on my couch unable to do much more than occasionally change the channel, I had lots of time to mentally tweak various fics I've had in progress. I finished this one…hopefully a few more will follow soon!

It felt like there was a scene missing from last week's episode...so I wrote it. :-) Filler scene for 8x06, "Cracked," between the part in the lab with the mom and McGee and Abby's a-ha moment in the lab with Gibbs.

McGee was waiting for her when she got back to lab, sifting through the pictures of the equations she'd uploaded on one of her computers. "Hey," she said as passed him on the way to her desk.

She stowed her parasol and her bag and made it back to the computer before McGee fully pulled his head out of what he was doing and registered her presence. "Hey," he said back, a bit cautiously. "How are you?"

He knew that she knew that he knew that she hated that question. Which meant that after several instances of her snapping at him for a seemingly innocent inquiry, they had a tacit understanding that he only asked it when he was really worried.

Like now. Abby sighed. Well, it wasn't like she could blame him. She pulled up a chair and collapsed into it. "She really was crazy," she admitted.

"She had problems," he agreed. "But she was also brilliant. And I can't imagine…" He glanced at the computer screens, at the pictures of numbers and letters and symbols obsessively transferred onto skin. "I can't imagine how hard it must have been for her when her medications stopped working and she started to lose control."

In that instant, Abby was completely, utterly, and overwhelmingly grateful that McGee was there. Not just right then, but always. He understood. He always understood, even when she was afraid he didn't. Even when it sometimes took him a little bit longer to get there, or when he didn't agree, he still understood. And so she finally voiced the little niggling fear that had been lurking in the back of her mind for the past couple of days. "Do you think she was crazy because she was brilliant?"

"No." His answer was immediate and certain, and smoothed away some of her worry. "I think that smart people are always a little bit crazy. And I'm sure she was probably kind of…different. Everyone we interviewed said so. But she was sick, Abby. Maybe if she hadn't shut herself away the last few weeks, they could have started making adjustments to her medicine, maybe the poison made it worse…" He sighed. "But they were two separate things that just happened to get tangled together in the end. Which…" he turned back to the computer and clicked a few keys, "is why I went back to the equations."

Abby's head jerked up and she gave him a puzzled look. "But she was meeting with nobody. She was working on an equation for…nobody. She was poisoned, yeah, but if this was all a product of her sickness, then…" She shrugged helplessly.

"Come on, Abs. You don't believe that. You're just tired." Which was true. She needed more Caf-Pow. Well, actually she needed sleep, but Caf-Pow would have to do for now. "I think we need to look at her math. Her behavior was erratic, but maybe her math was still solid. And if we figure out what all of," he waved his hand at the equations, "this is for, maybe we can figure out why she was killed." He looked at her earnestly, and she could practically feel him willing her to cheer up.

She'd dragged him all over the city chasing after a crazy woman. A dead crazy woman. She'd abandoned him on a street corner, gotten him in trouble with Gibbs, and worried him senseless. And here he was, up to his ears in letters and symbols and formulas, trying to cheer her up and help her solve the mystery.

Abby sprang to her feet and flung her arms around him. "You're the best, Tim," she said, giving him a squeeze.

McGee squeezed her back. "I'm sorry I let you down, Abby," he told her quietly. "I should have followed you onto that bus."

She gave his arm a pinch. He yelped, and tried to jump back, but she kept hugging him. "Don't be an idiot, McGee. You never let me down. If I'd given you another thirty seconds instead of losing my temper, you would have gotten on the bus."

"Probably," he admitted.

Leaning back a bit, she smiled at him. "You know, you're the only one who doesn't let me get away with stuff." He looked confused, so she elaborated. "I mean, Tony and Ziva always think I'm a little bit crazy, so they humor me. Plus, they only understand what I'm talking about half the time, so it's easy to confuse them. And Gibbs spoils me. But you…you trust me, but you know when to try and bring me back to reality." She hugged him again, tight. "Gibbs shouldn't have gotten mad at you for losing me – I'm the one who turned off my phone so you couldn't find me. I'm sorry I got you in trouble," she said, her words muffled by his shoulder. "And made you worry."

She felt a light touch that might have been him kissing her temple. "S'okay."

"You never let me down," Abby repeated. "And you keep me honest." With a final squeeze, she let him go and turned determinedly to her computers. "Now," she said, picking up her remote and switching on the music, "let's figure this thing out."

With a smile, McGee took his place at the computer next to her, and soon the room was filled with the familiar medley of their work – the beat of Abby's music, the clicking of computer keys, and the near-incomprehensible half-sentences that nobody except the two of them understood.

FIN