"Probie!"

Tim felt a hand grasp his shoulder and yank him back, causing him to drop the box he had been carrying. It hit the ground, spilling rubber bands, paper clips, unsharpened pencils and boxes of staples out around the desks.

"Tony!" Tim squatted down to re-fill the box, quickly grabbing the items and angrily chucking them inside. A couple of rebellious pencils had rolled beneath his desk and he crawled around to the other side to get them.

Tony leaned over Tim's desk and looked down to the young agent. "I need you to do me a favor."

"Why on earth should I do you a favor? Because of your stupid food fight, Gibbs is making me re-stock the supply closet."

"Is that all?" Tony asked with a snort. "He's making me go through case reports of the entire year and spell check them."

"He's asking you to spell check them?" Tim let out a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, giggle all you want. Thing is, Abby's already left and she thinks I'm going to be meeting her at the club in…" He cut off and checked his watch. "Uh…ten minutes. I'd just call, but her phone's been on the fritz lately."

Tim dropped the last pencil into the box. "And this concerns me how?"

"I need you to swing by and let her know that I won't be there because I'm swamped in paperwork."

"Because you started a food fight in the squad room."

"Well, you don't need to add that part in."

Tony gave him a pat on the back. "I'm counting on you, McGee! Don't let me down!"

Tim glowered as he picked the box up once again and set off for the supply room. If Tony thought he would go out of his way to help him, he was sorely mistaken. Even if Tim wanted to help, it was going to take him at least thirty minutes to re-stock the supply closet.

"Ziva!"

The Mossad officer glanced back over her shoulder and saw Tim quickly approaching her. A box of various office supplies bounced in his hands as he ran.

"Could you do me a favor?"

"No, McGee, I will not re-stock the supply closet for you. I warned you not to partake in Tony's little food battle, but you would not listen to me."

"That's not what I need." He shifted the box in his grasp. "Abby is waiting for Tony at the club, but he's been detained because he's drowning in a swamp of paper work. Could you swing by and let her know."

Ziva raised her eyebrows and glanced down at her ensemble. She was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, a Lycra tank top, and running shoes. "Perhaps you have not yet noticed, but I was on my way to the gym, McGee."

"Ziva, it's almost 10:00pm. I thought you went to the gym in the morning."

"Too crowded. I prefer to do my workout without having to deal with men googling my rear end."

"Well, I can't get the message to Abby."

"That is not my problem," Ziva told him, crossing her arms defiantly.

Tim sighed. "Look, I have to get these to the supply closet before Gibbs sees me and accuses me of slacking off. Could you just try to get the message to Abby?"

"Fine," Ziva said resignedly. "But I am only doing it because I do not want Abby to think Tony is standing her up."

Tim gave her a peck on the cheek along with a very emphatic, "Thank you!"

Ziva entered the elevator, her fingers hesitating before pushing a button. She had told Tim she would try to get the message to Abby, but the gym called to her lovingly. Tony's run for lunch had brought her a hamburger that had felt heavy after she'd eaten it. She knew that if she didn't go to the gym she would feel like a slob the entire night. Then she would have to walk up extra early the following morning and make her run longer.

She jabbed at one of the buttons. Yes, she had promised to get the message to Abby; she had not promised, though, that she would be the one to deliver it.

"Ducky!"

"Yes, Ziva?"

"I hate to bother you, but it seems there is a message that needs to get to Abby and neither I nor Tim nor Tony can get it to her. So I hoped you may be able to stop by and give her the message."

"I trust everyone is in good health?"

"Yes, of course, Ducky. It is only that Tony cannot be at the club because he's drowning in a pond of papers."

Ducky furrowed his brow, not quite sure what to make of what Ziva had said. Still, he wasn't about to question it. He wasn't quite familiar with all of the latest slang and Ziva's tone of voice did not indicate that this "drowning" was at all a threat to Tony's life. For all he knew, Abby would understand it perfectly.

"Well, I was going to leave in only two minutes, so I should have no trouble dropping by and giving Abigail the message."

The look of relief that crossed Ziva's face did not go unnoticed. "Thank you, Ducky! I am sure that both Tony and Abby will be grateful," she called out as she jogged out of Autopsy.

Moments later, Ducky's phone began to ring. "Hello?"

"Mr. Mallard?"

"Yes?" he asked tentatively. The voice didn't sound immediately familiar.

"This is Angela. Uh, you hired me to watch after your mother during the day while her regular nurse is on vacation."

"Ah, yes! How are you, dear?"

"…Well, your mother has locked herself in the attic with the dogs. When I knock on the door, she screams about how, uh, stabbing my eyes out with her hat pin. Um, and she hasn't taken her medicine today. I just was wondering…"

If the news of his mother's behavior came at all as a surprise to him, Ducky didn't let it show. "Of course. I was just about to leave so I should be there shortly. Just don't try to get in to the attic. Mother has little patience when she thinks someone is threatening her safety and the safety of the dogs."

Angela breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Mallard! I can't tell you how sorry I am about all of–" Her voice was cut off as the phone clanked to the ground. In the background, Ducky could hear screams and shrill barking.

"Dear me!" Ducky whispered, hastening his pace. While he knew his mother no longer possessed the strength to do any real harm to anyone, he didn't want to come home again to find the entire house in shambles. It was only when he reached the elevator that he remembered his promise to Ziva.

"Mr. Palmer!" Ducky called out frantically.

Jimmy's head poked out from inside the Autopsy storage area. "I'm almost done, Dr. Mallard. I can give you the inventory list tomorrow morning."

"No, that can wait, Mr. Palmer. Right now I need you to deliver a message to Abby!"

"On the phone?"

"No, Mr. Palmer, her phone is not in proper working order. You will need to give her the message in person."

"Oh, okay doctor." Jimmy exited the storage area and ran toward the elevator. He skidded to a stop and looked back over his shoulder. "Uh, what's the message?"

"Tell her that…" Now what had Ziva said? "Tell her that Tony is drowning in a pond with a newspaper."

Jimmy looked at him quizzically. "Drowning? A pond? I…I don't understand. If he's drowning, uh, shouldn't we be helping him?"

"I do not know, Mr. Palmer. I am only repeating to you what was told to me. Now can you get the message there or not?"

"Of course, Dr. Mallard. I'm sure it'll make sense to Abby."

Abby glanced down at her watch for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. Tony was supposed to have been there by now and she was growing worried. Had he been in an accident? Was he hurt? Or worse: was he with another woman? Had he stood her up?

Abby crackled her knuckles and glanced down at the spiked bracelets that decorated her wrists. For his sake she hoped it wasn't the latter.

When she looked up again she was surprised to see Jimmy pushing his way through the crowd of people. He was still wearing his Autopsy scrubs and his eyes were frantically searching the faces of the people around him. When they finally landed on Abby, he waved his hand in the air in an effort to get his attention.

"Jimmy," she commented with a bemused smile. "I didn't know this was your kind of place!"

"Hi, Abby. Uh, I'm supposed to be giving you a message. Uh…Tony's drowning in a pond."

She shot up, her mouth running with questions. "A pond? Where? What happened? Why isn't anyone out there helping him? Does he need me there? Is he going to be okay?"

Jimmy held his hands up as though defending himself from the onslaught of questions. "I don't know, Abby! I was just told to let you know that."

"Who told you that?"

"Well, Dr. Mallard asked me to tell you, but–"

"Ducky told you?" she screeched. "Oh my God! Tony's not lying in Autopsy, is he?"

"Well, not that I could see…"

"Oh, I have to find him!" Abby sprinted from her place without a backward glance.

Tony had finally gotten home and, after giving his brain a workout, he wanted nothing more than to watch some brainless television and get to sleep. His plans were thwarted by a harsh knock against his door. Tony frowned. Who could possibly be knocking on his door at this hour?

"Abby? What are y–"

"TONY!" She flung herself at him, her spiked bracelets inadvertently pressing into his neck. "I was so worried about you! What happened? I went back to NCIS, but I couldn't find anyone there who knew what was going on. None of them could tell me anything!"

He managed to pry her arms from his neck, wincing as the spikes poked against his skin. "Abbs, what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you drowning in the pond! I thought you were really hurt or something. I even checked every drawer in Autopsy to make sure you weren't there."

"What pond? I never said I was drowning in a pond."

"That's what Jimmy told me. And he said Ducky had told him that."

"Jimmy? Ducky?" Tony's head was spinning. "I told McGee to swing by and tell you that I was stuck with a load of paperwork! That's it."

Abby crossed her arms. "Well that isn't the message I got."

"Yeah, Abby, I got that part; what I didn't get was how my message became anything about me drowning in a pond."

Abby sighed, lightly wrapping herself around Tony's torso. "I don't care. I'm just glad you're okay."

"Yeah…I'm glad I'm okay too, Abbs." Tony returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around her waist. "You know, as long as you're here, maybe you'd like to come in…?"

She grinned and gave him a small kiss on the lips, a kiss that gave the promise of more to come. "I get what you're saying, loud and clear."

The End!