A/N: This story has been a very long time coming. The majority was written during Nanowrimo in 2012, but life got complicated and my writing got put aside. Finally back in the swing of things, this story was the perfect place to start.

Currently there are seventeen chapters, about fourteen of which are complete and just need editing. The others are maybe half written, some scenes unfinished and others to be written. The end scene is complete. I may end up adding some content, so the chapter count may go up.

I tell you all this so you can be confident that this story will be finished. I'm going to post once or twice a week (depending on interest and how fast the editing goes) until I run out of complete chapters and hopefully by then I'll be putting the finishing touch on the later chapters.

Oh, and btw, this is Book One of a planned trilogy. The second story focuses on McGee and Ziva, the third on Tony and an OC I'm very excited about.

Chapter One: Margarita Safari

Rule #18: It's better to ask forgiveness than to seek permission.

Gibbs was walking down the beach when he paused. The wood was nearly identical to the sand surrounding and partially burying it, but the smoothness of the grain contrasted with the texture of the beach. Gibbs brushed away the sand and carefully extracted the small twig, brushing the remaining grains off the slightly damp side.

The twig was no more than six inches long and two inches in diameter. He examined it carefully, then tucked it in the pocket of his khakis to add to his pile later.

His collection of driftwood had started simply enough, with a piece washed up on the shore he thought would be fun to whittle into something later on. He placed it on the edge of the deck and promptly forgot about it.

The second piece just caught his eye. The third, he couldn't remember. All he knew was that it had been almost three months and there was now a fairly decent sized pile of driftwood, all shapes and sizes, lying next to the house. He still didn't know what he was going to use it for, and Franks liked to crack jokes about a fun bonfire, but nearly every time he stepped onto the beach he found himself scanning the shore, looking for another piece to add.

Gibbs heard a whistle and turned. Several hundred feet down the shoreline, Franks was waving his arms and motioning for him to come back. He sighed and began walking back towards the house. He paused for a moment when an ocean breeze cooled him from the bright Mexican sunlight. His hair ruffled in the breeze and he closed his eyes, savoring the feeling while the salt in the air made each breath more enjoyable than the last.

It had been nearly three months since he had retired from NCIS and joined Franks in Mexico and he hadn't regretted his decision a single time. The seclusion and isolation of the spot Franks had chosen to build his home gave him time to mediate on his life, to process all he had been through and been forced to relive after his coma.

He almost felt healed.

When he approached the house, he could see Franks talking to Camilla, from the cantina. She usually only came down when someone wanted to talk to one of them on the phone. He wondered who it would be this time. Abby was the only one he'd given the number to, and she had only used it twice, both times pleading with her tone, if not with her words, for him to come home.

Gibbs hadn't had the heart to tell her that it wasn't his home anymore. That was one thing these months had taught him. He'd been forcing himself to live a life that wasn't his anymore for so long. This was where he belonged, this was where he was going to stay.

Camilla smiled widely at him as he approached. "Hello, Signor Gibbs," she greeted him.

He smiled back at her. She was the only woman he had ever met who was that cheerful around Mike Franks. Frankly, Gibbs suspected she either had feelings for his old mentor, or something had happened between them before, but he kept his mouth shut. It wasn't any of his business, and it didn't really matter. Just a thought that popped into his head from time to time.

"You have a visitor," she told him, her smile widening.

Gibbs frowned. A visitor? His first thought was that something was wrong, that he had pissed off one of the locals last time he'd been in town, but if that were true, she wouldn't be smiling like that. But no one from back in DC knew where he was, did they?

From around the corner of the house, a darkly clad person with a familiar black lace parasol walked slowly towards them.

He froze, his heart skipping a beat as he realized who it was.

Abby.

The parasol shaded her face, but he could still see her green eyes sparkling underneath her dark fringe. She hesitated for a moment, looking uncertain, an expression he had rarely seen cross her face. Then as suddenly as it was there, it was gone. She dropped her parasol behind her and flung her arms around him.

"Gibbs!"

He'd seen the hug coming and braced himself, but nothing could have braced him for how amazing it felt to be on the receiving end of one of Abby's impressive hugs after all this time. He felt her fingers clutching onto his shoulders as she held on tighter than her usual Herculean embraces.

He returned the hug with just slightly less force, allowing his arms to wrap around her waist and squeeze her firmly.

She finally loosened her grip, moving back, but leaving her hands on his shoulders, resting lightly. "I missed you," she said simply and honestly, her eyes revealing the shine of happy tears.

"Missed you too, Abs," he murmured. Despite the happy smile that had grown over her face when she had first seen him, there was something there that just wasn't quite right. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Abby," Franks said, patting her on the shoulder.

Abby whirled around and threw her arms around the older man. "Mike!" she exclaimed.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, poking at her parasol as if it were an insect.

"If the Gibbs won't come see the Abby, the Abby has to come see the Gibbs," she replied, sending warm smiles to both men.

Gibbs rubbed his hand over the beard he'd been growing for the past month. It hadn't really been planned, he'd just stopped bothering to shave in the morning when it occurred to him that he didn't have to anymore. The only person who saw him these days was Franks, and he sure didn't care. "What about work?" he asked Abby after a moment.

She shrugged, twirling her parasol absently. "Do you have any idea how many vacation days I've racked up the past couple of years? Jenny practically pushed me out the door."

"What about your lab?" he couldn't stop himself from asking.

"I'm starting to think you might not want me around." Abby put her free hand on her hip and made a face at him.

"You ignore him," Franks told her. "He's just a crabby old man. You're welcome here for as long as you like."

Gibbs shot a sideways glance at Franks while Abby laughed. He was the crabby old man?

"The guy that's filling in for me is really good. Sure, he listens to Barry Manilow, but I suppose no one's perfect. At least I know he won't blow anything up while I'm away and he promised to take good care of my babies." Abby explained.

The next thing he knew, Abby and Franks were going over to Camille's vehicle to get her bags and he was left standing on the deck alone. Conflicted, he went inside to grab a beer.

It wasn't that he was unhappy to see Abby, because he wasn't. He really did love Abby, and having her cheerful face around for a few days would be a treat after seeing nothing but Mike Franks' sorry mug all summer. The problem was, this wasn't like Abby.

The Abby he knew could barely bear to be away from her "babies" for a long weekend, let alone a trip out of the country. And she never, ever, let anyone else work in her lab. The last time he's suggested she take a vacation home to see her family she'd nearly had a panic attack at the thought of being so far away. Abby loved her job. Maybe a little too much, but that was Abby.

This didn't feel right.

But all that slipped out of his mind as soon as Abby re-appeared, Bert under one arm and a black rolling suitcase with little white stars all over it. Franks trailed behind her with a smaller, matching bag and to Gibbs amusement, her parasol in his other hand.

Abby dropped her bag and nearly squealed. "This place is amazing! I can't believe you built this whole house yourself, Mike!"

"I had a few local boys help me out here and there," Franks admitted.

"It's still impressive," Abby said, turning around to look at everything. The little black skirt she was wearing twirled outward as she spun. She tugged on the bottom of her shirt and frowned when she saw Gibbs holding a beer, but said nothing.

Instead, she crossed her arms and turned back to Franks. "You're sure I won't be in the way? I don't mind staying in a hotel."

"Nonsense," Franks told her, struggling to close her parasol. "You can take my room and I'll sleep in the hammock. But if it rains, you're on your own."

"Deal." Abby beamed at him, taking pity when Franks nearly knocked over a lamp and closing the parasol herself. "So, what have you been doing, Gibbs? I don't see a boat out there yet," she teased.

Gibbs took a gulp of his beer, still feeling rather stunned to see her. "No boat yet," he murmured. "Looks like I need to make another chair, though."

Abby's eyes fell on the two sturdy chairs off to one side. She rushed over to admire them, and while she oohed and ahhed, Gibbs glanced over at Franks.

His mentor nodded at Gibbs' silent question. He'd noticed it too, Abby didn't quite seem herself. Sure, she was smiling all over the place and talking a mile a minute, but something was definitely hinky.

His first instinct was to be annoyed that his solitude had been invaded. Gibbs had made a very conscious decision when he'd retired and come to Mexico, and he hadn't been quiet about his desire for privacy. Abby had seemed to understand when they'd finally talked. She hadn't like it, but she'd understood.

Or at least he'd thought so at the time.

But whatever his instincts were, he couldn't be angry for long at the cheerful Goth in front of him. Abby seemed to always have that effect on him. No matter how angry he was, how cranky, she would say something or give him a look that made his irritation just melt away.

Abby insisted that she didn't want to disrupt their routine too much, and she climbed into Franks' hammock with a thick hardcover mystery. And except for when she let out groans or little annoyed clicks of her tongue at the inevitable forensic inaccuracies, she was pretty quiet for the rest of the day.

But her silence spoke far louder than her lack of words.

xxx

Abby's brain was going a million miles an hour as she lay in the hammock. She thought Gibbs looked happy, which was most important. She hadn't thought he would turn her away if she showed up, but she had still been afraid.

When things had begun escalating the month before, Abby hadn't hesitated to put most of her belongings in storage. She didn't feel safe in her apartment anymore, so she moved out.

Into Gibbs house. She wasn't surprised to find that he didn't lock his door even when leaving the country and she hadn't taken much with her, not much more than she had in the bag she checked at the airport. Just clothes and toiletries mostly. She slept in Gibbs bed at night, finding it ironic that it smelled like him, despite the fact that she knew he spent most nights on the sofa in the living room.

She locked the door when she was there. A locked door and Gibbs' house, that was all she needed to feel safe.

But she had missed him so much. She went to work every day and played her music, used her machines, but it didn't feel right anymore. Not without Gibbs.

She needed Gibbs.

She'd felt strangely calm when she purchased the ticket that would take her to him. She had hummed and sang as she packed her bags and tucked Bert on top of her carry on for the plane. But somewhere between boarding the plane and the short layover in Los Angeles, several thousand butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach.

She worried all the way to Tijuana, through the bus ride to San Quintin, and through the very expensive cab ride to El Rosario. By the time her very kind cab driver had dropped her off in front of the cantina her stomach was in knots.

Camilla was as sweet in person as she had been over the phone. She'd fixed Abby a quick quesedilla and a cup of tea before driving her to Frank's house. She'd still been nervous, but the butterflies were manageable for the ride.

When Abby first saw Gibbs, she wanted to laugh and cry all at the same time. He was all scruffy, a salt and pepper beard, his hair hanging over his ears, a Hawaiian looking shirt that matched his eyes and no shoes beneath his jeans. He looked perfect and different and the same all at once.

"You all right?"

Abby started as Franks voice came from behind her. The hammock swayed sharply as she tried to keep her balance. "You scared me!" she accused, frowning up at the man above her.

"Sorry." Franks didn't look particularly sorry actually. "Just thought I'd see if you needed a drink, but you looked upset."

"Oh." Abby was a little surprised at the offer. Franks was looking down at her with what she could only describe as suspicion in his eyes. "Don't be silly, I was just thinking."

"Hrmmph. About Gibbs?" Franks questioned, actually winking at her, the old curmudgeon.

"About the ocean," Abby told Franks, rolling her eyes. "It's been a long time since I've seen the ocean. It smells the same. Like salt."

"The salt goes better with Tequila," Franks remarked. "But all we've got left is water and Beer. Whatcha want?"

"Water would be fine," Abby said, using her foot to keep the hammock swaying gently. "You don't have to get it for me though, I can get it myself."

Franks harrumphed again. "You just stay there," he told her, disappearing into the house.

Well that was weird, Abby thought, frowning after him. She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the waves hitting the beach.

She'd been expecting a shack, but the house Mike Franks built was actually pretty nice. The worn plaid couch made her smile. It looked just like the couch in Gibbs house. She had been willing to bet that was where he slept, and when she'd stepped closer and peered over the side sure enough there was a pillow and folded up blanket on one side.

There was a table and the two handmade chairs by the kitchen as well as a rough bookcase filled with worn paperbacks. She'd run her fingertips over the spines and smiled. Mostly military thrillers and spy stories. Man books. A copy of Moby Dick. A few non-fiction tomes on wiring and plumbing.

She accepted the bottle of water Franks was holding out to her and took a long sip. He stared at her for a moment, then turned and disappeared back into the house. She tried not to feel too nervous by the curious expression on his face. There was no way Franks could know why she was here.

Abby knew she was running away. That had never even been a question about that in her mind, she was running away.

After Gibbs left, Abby felt so lost. She just didn't know what to do. Gibbs had been the person she turned to when she had a problem for so long that she just didn't know who else to turn to.

After he gave her the number to the cantina, Abby called him when he'd told her Camille would already be delivering supplies to Franks. And both times she intended to tell him what was going on.

And both times she chickened out in the end. How could she tell Gibbs what a mess she had made of her life? It just seemed so petty after just recently learning what he'd been through himself. Gibbs had lost his wife and his daughter. Surely Abby could suck it up and deal with an annoying ex-boyfriend.

Abby sighed, staring off into the distance. As the sun moved lower in the sky, she stopped pretending to read the book she'd bought in Los Angeles and closed her eyes.

xxx

"You were right, Probie," Franks told him, taking a long swig out of the brown beer bottle in his hand. "That girl is running from something."

This was one time Gibbs was not pleased to have been right. Sure, he understood the sentiment, he'd have been a fool as well as a hypocrite not to, but he cared about Abby and didn't want to think of her having a problem she needed to run away from.

"Yeah, I know," Gibbs murmured.

Abby was currently outside, curled up into a little ball on the striped hammock that Franks liked to lounge in. She had apparently dozed off, a hardcover book hugged to her chest.

Gibbs went to take a swig of his own beer and realized the bottle was empty. He stared at it for a few seconds and turned to grab another one. Now was definitely not the time to temper his drinking habits.

Franks silently settled himself down on the couch. It was around time for his usual afternoon 'siesta' which he usually took in the hammock, but it was currently occupied.

Gibbs took his fresh beer out onto the beach. He had spent many an hour during the past few months staring out at the ocean, drinking a beer and trying to figure things out.

Waking up from that last coma had been a strange experience for Gibbs. Getting his memory back was even stranger. Suddenly he knew full well he had mourned Kelly and Shannon for the past 15 years, that he had remarried 3 times, but it still felt like just yesterday he had received the news that they were dead.

It was like losing them all over again.

Took most of the summer for Gibbs to feel like he was in control of his emotions again. He was unsure if it was the presence of his mentor or simply the peace of Mexican beach that helped him through. It didn't really matter, all the mattered was that it had worked.

As the sun lowered itself on the horizon, Gibbs turned to watch Abby as she slumbered. He probably should have expected her to come after him, but he hadn't.

Abby never had done what he expected. Not from the moment he met her. It was one of the things that he liked best about her, her spontaneity.

Today he liked it a little less.

Gibbs sighed and took the last sip of his beer. It was pointless to push, Abby would tell him what was going on in her own time.

She was like him that way.

xxx

Franks rousted Abby out of the hammock shortly before handing her a plate of food and telling her not to expect it every night. Abby simply smiled and accepted the food, kissing Franks on the cheek and heading inside to eat.

She was still exhausted, despite her long nap, so Abby headed off to bed shortly after dinner. She still felt strange kicking Franks out of his bed, but he insisted, so she acquiesced.

His bedroom was spartan but comfortable. There was a bench in the corner and its sole purpose appeared to be for throwing clothes over, which made her grin. She was willing to bet real money that half those clothes were on the floor before she arrived. It was sweet that Mike tried to neaten up for her.

She didn't expect it. She knew she was entering the world of two fairly confirmed bachelors. She remembered what Luca's room had looked like growing up, and it hadn't been pretty.

She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her smaller suitcase up in front of her on the bed. She hadn't really paid much attention when she was packing, just shoved random things in the two first bags she saw.

Unzipping the top of the bag, Abby was pleased to see a pair of pajama pants within easy reach. That was convenient. Now if only she was sure she had remembered a toothbrush. If she hadn't, she would walk back to town tomorrow if necessary to get one. There was no way either Gibbs or Franks had an extra, and she knew far too much about germs to even consider sharing.

She almost let out a triumphant shout when she encountered her toothbrush tucked in one of the side pockets. There was a baggy black t-shirt to wear with her pajama pants and she'd seen a tube of toothpaste in the bathroom when she'd peed earlier, so she was all set.

Abby quickly changed into her pajamas. The pants were a little snug, but the shirt was baggy enough so she let them hang low on her hips. A brief trip to the bathroom and she was ready for bed. She pulled the blanket back and slid between the sheets. Aww, Franks had even changed the sheets for her. He really was a sweetheart, not that he wanted anyone to know.

She took a deep breath before turning out the light. She curled up on her side and closed her eyes.

"It's going to be okay," she whispered softly in the dark, rubbing one hand over the small bump at her midsection. "Gibbs is gonna keep us safe."

This story means a lot to me so please let me know what you think!