This was a rare occasion indeed. It wasn't even 1am yet and Abby Sciuto was already in her apartment, in her own bed, sound asleep. Abby was sure she could count on one hand the number of times this had happened since she began working for Gibbs at NCIS (at least she could if she wasn't busy slipping in and out of her gothic dreamworld). That week's case hadn't actually been that difficult, at least in terms of her job; the forensics and ballistics stuff was pretty textbook. They had even finished early enough for her to be home so early. So really the actual case wasn't what had made her so tired, what had made falling asleep as soon as she hit the cool sheets so easy. Of course Abby knew that they had installed new government grade ballistic glass into the front of the recruitment office, and of course she knew he had a vest. And of course she knew that he was Gibbs.

But that was just it, wasn't it? She knew Gibbs better than anybody, which meant she also knew that he wouldn't be wearing his vest. This was something that, despite all of the other safety precautions they took, there was still that slim chance that none of them would help. In her dream, she replaced Gibbs with herself; her own green eyes locking into place between the cross-hairs that she never would have known were on her. She could feel Gibbs standing behind her as she heard the shot and watched the glass shatter... and it was then that she snapped her eyes open.

Or was it the smell of sawdust that brought her to consciousness?

"Gibbs," she whispered groggily, confused as to why he would be in her apartment and not the other way around. She pulled at the darkness with her eyes, willing them to see his figure somewhere near, but instead she just saw the darkness that was her empty room. Slightly disappointed but not surprised at her conclusion, she closed her eyes and rolled over to go back to sleep, stretching out her left arm as far as it would go with the intention of pulling it back in until her fingers felt something that was most definitely not the wrinkle of her sheets. It felt warm with just the slightest hint of stubble forming, like the cheek of one who shaved often. It was the increased pressure on her palm as the cheek leaned into it that confirmed what she had thought just prior. She now knew why she hadn't seen him before: he was sitting on the floor next to her with his back to her bed. Just sitting. But instead of feeling delighted as she thought she would, she could feel the worry creeping into her gut. This was most definitely a rare occasion.

She traced a slow, gentle line up and down his jaw line with her thumb until she heard his voice. "Yeah it's me. Go back to sleep Abs," he breathed. She almost shivered as his voice seemed to blend with the silence instead of cutting it.

Her eyes still closed and her thumb still polishing his jaw, she sighed with just a hint of exasperation that made his mouth twitch into a smile. She felt the skin shift beneath her hand as she rebuttled, "mm'floor's not good for y'back. Come, um..." He heard her head shift on the pillow. "Come sleep up here." Her hand left his face and gave a slight upward tug on his shirt, as if she had done it with enough force to actually move him (which she had obviously not). Abby waited a few seconds for a reply, either physical or verbal, but when she got neither she added her best "please." That would move him for sure. But all she got in return was a stark "no."

The realization of what was wrong suddenly hit her, much like a bullet, and she shifted her entire body to lay horizontally across her bed. Her head lulled off the side next to his neck as she wrapped her arms around the front of him, her hands meeting in the middle of his abdomen. The only movement he made was leaning farther back into the side of the bed. She had only dreamed about being hit by the sniper. But it was a reality for him; his well-placed faith in the strengthened glass the only thing that kept the reality from turning into a nightmare. She knew that it had to have been worse for him since he had been a sniper. He knew what it was like to be on the other end of the barrel, the end that was in control. He knew better than anyone that with snipers there was no defender and attacker. There was no defense. More like predator and prey. There was no shared power between the two combatants. One of the two wouldn't even know he was a combatant. He would be alive one second and then dead the next. He would never know the difference.

But again, Gibbs had always been the one in control. Abby could feel the tension build in his chest, sure that he was seeing the glass spiderweb behind his closed eyes. Knowing that she wouldn't be getting him to go to sleep anytime soon, she lazily reached her right hand to the buttons on his polo shirt that he was still wearing and began unbuttoning. She slipped her hand onto his bare chest, just to the left of center, and splayed her fingers as far as they would go so as to cover as much of his heart as possible. Simultaneously, she moved her left arm so that her hand wrapped around as much of his forehead as she could reach. There, she thought. Now she had his two most vital organs covered.

"Abby-" he began until she cut him off.

"Now if a sniper wants to shoot you, they will have to go through me first," she uttered matter-of-factly. Her head was still hanging off of the bed, her hair dangling so that it tickled his shoulder.

"Like hell you will," he half laughed, half scoffed, adding a slightly amused eye-roll for good measure. She giggled in response. He went to remove her hands as a physical gesture to his sentiment, but she reacted and only gripped tighter. Realizing this half-way through the action, he gave up and let his hands fall to land on the one that was gripping his chest, letting slip his trademark grin of amusement which Abby had no idea he had flashed her. Apparently her body's short period of inaction was enough to lull her back in and out of consciousness. At least that was what Gibbs thought. After a minute or so, Abby let out a sigh and pushed herself off of the bed lazily and drug her feet out of the bedroom, down the hall and into what Gibbs assumed was the kitchen. A small light flicked on and came shimmering under the crack of the bedroom door, carrying with it the sound of clinking glass. Then as quickly as the amber light appeared it had vanished, called back to its source by the woman who reappeared in the bedroom carrying two glasses and a bottle. As she shut the door behind her, the bedroom was launched back into penetrating blackness. Gibbs searched her movement, anticipating her intentions and fueling his curiosity about the contents of her hands. His head turned with her, allowing him to follow the sounds her feet made across the floor as they carried her to the space behind him, stopped as she flicked on a small lamp, and brought her back to his side. The little lamp gave off just enough golden light for them to see contours, the objects in the room fleshed out only by the outlines of deep shadows and luminescent highlights.

Gibbs had assumed she would make her way back onto the bed, but should have expected otherwise when she settled down on the floor next to him, mimicking his position with her back to the bed. Finally she set the things she had been carrying down on the floor in front of them allowing him to inspect each item: A bottle of Macallan Single Malt Scotch and two Marine Corps coffee cups. Gibbs proceeded to roll the bottle of scotch over in his hands, feeling the label and the weight of the liquid shift with each turn. Suddenly he furrowed his brow and turned to look at Abby who was still situating her feet.

"Abby, I thought scotch wasn't your thing," he remarked, remembering a random conversation they had recently in his basement.

"It's not," she retorted. "But it's yours. Now help a girl out." She blindly pointed to the seal of the bottle, and he let out a chuckle of understanding as he turned the top which made a sound that would satisfy any liquor-lover. He was pouring the drink into the cups Abby was holding out to him when he suddenly realized something.

"Now wait a minute-" he stopped pouring. He looked at one of the coffee cups that had Semper Fidelis scrawled across the front and recognized it as the one he had given Abby a few years ago for Christmas. He smiled slightly at the memory of how much she had begged him for one, and the sincerity of the hug she gave him when she received it. But the other coffee cup... he recognized from somewhere else. He definitely recognized the Marine Corps emblem emblazoned on the front and the small chip on the rim. "Abs, isn't that mine?" He lifted his eyes inquisitively and met her sheepish ones.

"Possibly...well, definitely." He raised his eyebrows. "What, I was gonna give it back," she enforced. His face relaxed in amusement as he smiled at his friend.

"Keep it." She returned the smile as he screwed the top back on and enjoyed the burn of the alcohol. The radiating warmth swirled with the cooled silence of the room for several minutes. Eventually, Gibbs sloshed the drink around the bottom of the cup and watched the lamp light move with it before looking over at Abby who was staring at the floor.

"Stop thinking so loudly, Abs." He got no response back for several moments. Like she wanted to say something, but she had to build up the courage to actually say it.

The silence lasted to so long, in fact, that he gave up on getting an answer and went back to his drink.

"Why didn't you wear the vest?"

"What?"

"You heard me Gibbs. Why didn't you wear the vest?"

"Abby, I told you. It didn't fit und-"

"Under the uniform. Yeah, I got it." Her voice trailed off at the end leaving Gibbs confused at her bitter tone. He tried to convince himself that he didn't know why she was so upset about it, but then again he knew why. Hell, he was upset about the whole thing too. That's why he was here, sitting on the floor in the dark with his best friend drinking aged alcohol out of a coffee cup. He looked down at the floor, slightly ashamed at being so insensitive about it. He just didn't realize how much she cared about it, he lied to himself. He extended his arm as a peace offering.

"Come here, Abs." It was like those were the words she was waiting for, seeing as she slid over instantly, and before he even finished saying them she was nestling herself in between his arm and chest.

"I'd do it, ya know." Her mysterious remark confused him.

"Do what?"

"Step in front of a bullet for you."

How ironic that her words would hit him so hard square in the chest. He let his breath out a little too forcefully for her not to notice as he tried to think of something to say. The sound was still reverberating inside his chest cavity, ricocheting back and forth between his heart and his head. But how could he possibly say something like "thank you" for such an offer? Thanks for saying that. How sweet of you. 'Preciate it. He settled on taking a drink and kissing her forehead instead.

"Gibbs, I need to know something."

"What's that, Abs?" He could only imagine what she would have to say to follow.

"If we ever...If somebody tries to...If you..." She stopped, frustrated at not knowing how to phrase her question.

"Come out with it, Abs." Always like Gibbs to give her courage, at least in his own little way.

"If I'm around and someone tries to...well, if I'm there and someone tries to kill you... what do you want me to do?"

She bounced as he laughed, "Well I'd hope you'd try to save me afterwards-"

"No, Gibbs. Stop," she professed as she bolted away from his arm to face him. "I'm serious. It could happen you know. A case could suddenly appear right on our front door. In the bullpen, my lab, the shop." She couldn't hold his gaze, so she let her eyes wander over him. "I need to know," she finally said. "I have to know what you want me to do." She went back to his eyes, which hadn't changed a bit. They were full of concern, and not concern for himself. He reached out for her and she not-so-reluctantly settled back into him.

It was his turn to be silent. What could he say to her? She was practically his daughter. He ran a dozen different scenarios like what she had described through his head, and they all ended the same for him. The emotional pain of thinking about Abby taking a bullet with his name on it was far worse than any amount of physical pain it could ever cause. And besides, he mused, Shannon and Kelly were always at the end. That wasn't so bad.

"Abby, if anyone ever hurt you on my behalf-"

"You can be selfish, you know," she interrupted. He paused.

"I know I can. That's why you can't leave me behind, too, Abby. I would not... be able to..." He stopped completely as she rose from him again, this time taking his cup and pouring more scotch. He held her eyes as she handed it back, abling him to finish. "If anything happened to you, Abs, I wouldn't know how to handle myself."

"But Gibbs-"

"Ya gotta let me see 'em, Abby." Her face let on to her confusion when he smiled slightly and shook his head. "You gotta let me see Shannon and Kelly." He set the coffee cup down, balled his left hand into a fist and brought his right hand up to his chin, his pointer falling from his chin, turning into his flattened palm, and landing on his fist. "Promise," he signed. Abby meticulously watched every movement, but instead of signing back she replied, "Promise me something first."

"Don't make promises I can't keep, Abs," he said as a warning to what she might ask of him.

"I know, but at least promise that you won't go rushing back to them." She knew her request must have stung him, but she almost didn't care. Almost. "Promise that you'll stay here, with me, for a while at least," she ended with a laugh to soften it, a laugh which he returned. She repeated the action of his sign back to him. "Promise?"

He nodded in the silence and signed back. "Promise." Raising his eyebrows in a question, he pointed at her and then repeated the same movements. "You promise?" He needed her to do this for him.

She signed back, nonetheless with heavy hands, "Promise." She let the weight leave her hands and dissipate into the darkness as her fingers floated, some curling and some extending, signing "I love you."

He flashed her his best for-Abby's-eyes-only smile. "Love you too, Abs."