I had a little difficulty with pronouns here. I'm using 'her' and 'she' to describe two different women, so I wanted to be clear but not too repetitive with their names at the same time.

I haven't seen the early Ziva episodes explaining her connection to Ari (although I do know), so for the purposes of this story, Ziva has never met Abby.

As always, I'm over thinking the tenses, convinced that I've made a mistake. The story flows (I hope!) but please point out any grammatical errors.

--------------------------------

The sight that greeted Ziva as she exited the elevator left her confused and worried. There was someone sitting in Gibbs' seat, going through the pockets of his coat which was slung over the backrest. She was dressed very strangely. Searching her memory, she tried to find the applicable term. Arriving at 'goth' after a few malapropisms, she stayed standing, out of the sneak's line of vision. Deciding that the stranger had to at least work at NCIS to have gotten past security, she relaxed. If she played her cards right, this could have nothing to do with her. Lord knows, she wanted no connection to the person who was about to get blasted for sitting in the boss' chair. Not to mention the fact that she was snooping around his jacket!

With a whiff of expensive cologne, she was alerted to Tony's presence. He stood behind her.

Turing to him with a curious expression, she shrugged her shoulders and then pointed discreetly at the offender.

He shrugged back.

Rolling her eyes, she nodded over at Gibbs' desk.

"Does she know how much trouble she could get into for doing that? She must be even newer than I am. I wouldn't even sit in his chair, let alone scoop in his pockets, and I'm me!"

Tony raised an eyebrow.

"Snoop! Oh, you know what I mean! Should we warn her?"

Smiling, Tony brushed past Ziva and went to sit at his desk. It seemed that in one movement, he managed to prop his feet on the desk, slouch down in his chair and peer at her from under his eyebrows and over his shoes. Smirking, he crooked a finger at her, beckoning her closer.

Deciding that she'd go along with his games, Ziva moved forward and bent over Tony's desk, elbows locked, arms braced in front of her on the edge of his table.

Tony cleared his face of all emotion and slowly, one digit by one digit, laced his fingers together until they were clasped in front of him, elbows propped up by his armrests.

"You, Ziva, are about to witness the anomaly in Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs' life that is Abby Sciuto."

Scrunching up her face in confusion and annoyance, she turned to her left to survey the sneak, now identified as Abby Sciuto.

"That's Abby? The NCIS forensic scientist?"

Tony, sighing the sigh of a long suffering Agent, nodded.

"Yes. That is our Mistress of the Dark."

Ziva turned around again. This time she caught the sneak's eye. Ziva smiled, only to have a scowl sent back at her. Eyebrows raised, she turned to Tony who was smirking. Pushing herself upright by the palms of her hands, she turned to ask the goth what she'd done to deserve such an expression. Before she'd gotten anywhere though, Tony grabbed the sleeve of her jacket.

"I realize you're learning the rules here. I also realize that there are a lot of them and yes, I know, they're not written down which really sucks. Now, I can assure you that in the coming months I will try my hardest to confuse and trick you as to which number corresponds to which rule. Heck, I'll even make some up. I will however, take pity on you in this particular, and I must stress, sole, case. It is a mistake that many people have made, and it is not pretty for anyone. Trust me."

He stopped, and only after glancing over his shoulders, scouting the area in front of the elevator, inspecting the stairs and scoping out the landing in front of MTAC, did he continue.

"No matter what you may hear about rule number one, it is this, and only this. If you want to make it here, you will not mock, nor upset, Abigail Sciuto. You also won't call her Abigail to her face either. She is the quirky, adorable NCIS pet, and more to the point, beloved by Gibbs. If you do anything to hurt her that he didn't sanction, not that he would, you will find yourself out of a job. Now, I have a few years behind me, so I get away with some stuff, mostly because Abby doesn't mind me, but you, as a Probie, will not be given such star treatment. Are we clear?"

Stunned, Ziva turned, to find Abby now looking for something in one of Gibbs' draws.

"You have got to be kidding me!"

His serious expression remained planted firmly in place.

Just as she was turning to her desk to reflect on the strange little office she'd worked her way into, she noticed Gibbs walking towards his desk. He carried his customary ambrosia of choice contained in a tall styrofoam cup in one hand and an unbelievably large, plastic and if her ears weren't deceiving her, rattling, cup in the other.

He reached his desk and Abby smiled up him. Smiling back down at her, he placed his drink on his desk and thrust the souvenir style cup at her. She grabbed at it eagerly, both hands curling around its circumference with the excitement of a child, and happily put the straw in her mouth. Gibbs walked around behind his desk, so that they were both contained in the little booth it created. To Ziva's astonishment, he sat on the edge of it, and opened a file. It was A4, and hinged open on the short side. He deliberately rested the cover on Abby's head, who stopped slurping at her drink. Looking up at what she could see of him that wasn't obscured by the file, she rolled her eyes and started squirming, her nose and mouth twitched to the left.

"Gibbs!" she protested, "you're messing up my pigtails!"

A smirk played at the corner of Gibbs' mouth, and Ziva's eyebrows shot up high on her forehead.

Before Ziva knew what was happening, Gibbs reached out and placed his palm on Abby's cheek, curled his fingers around the side of her head, and held her still. He went back to his report and she went back to her drink, slurping happily