Chapter Three: Brush Off

Abby was singing. It didn't happen often, because she knew very well, and had come to terms with the fact that she didn't have much of a voice. She wasn't exactly tone-deaf, but, as Ducky put it, lacked a certain sense of the melodic. She had witnessed other members of the team wrinkling their noses and plugging their ears on previous occasions, but today, she was in too good of a mood to care. Feeling productive and accomplished was one thing, but today was different. All day, Abby had felt sexy, and that was rare enough for a woman who spent almost all of her time interacting with bloody implements and unfeeling pieces of hardware.

As she belted the undecipherable lyrics along with one of her favorite tracks, Abby heard the elevator doors open, and turned expectantly to see Gibbs preparing to stride through the lab doorway. "Hi Gibbs!" She waved enthusiastically at him. "Right on time, as usual!"

Gibbs didn't look as though he was feeling nearly as upbeat as she was. The circles under his eyes had gotten deeper, and the smile he awarded her upon entering was grim at best. Abby had spent almost the last two weeks trying not to notice the obvious change in Gibbs' face, hoping that if she didn't think too hard about it, the mortification she'd felt upon misguidedly declaring her love for him would eventually fade. She hadn't expected the rest of the team to have remained in the dark about the incident, but, somehow or other, nobody else seemed to have guessed her and Gibbs' little secret. She knew she could count on him not to go shouting around about it, but Abby was a bad liar; her face tended to give things away. As silent as he could be, at the moment, Gibbs' face seemed to be doing even a better job of telling tales than even hers usually did.

She desperately didn't want him to still be angry, and was even less thrilled with the idea that he'd forgiven her, but was still intensely uncomfortable. If Abby could have had her way, the entire incident never would have happened. Since she was usually able to get her way, this experience was an unpleasantly unusual one, and she secretly wanted to beg Gibbs to tell her the truth about whether or not things would ever really return to the way they'd used to be. If not, she almost wanted him to get angry, or yell, or call her all sorts of violently slutty names. At least then she wouldn't have to wonder about what was going on in that brooding head of his.

"Yeah?" Gibbs was cool, extremely collected. Abby tried to focus on how exceedingly normal his voice sounded, and not on the look in his eyes. "What've you got?"

"I've pulled the prints off of the knife you and Ziva found at the crime scene." She bit her lip. "You're not gonna like this, but it's not a match. I mean, it's not a match to our suspect."

"Well." Gibbs sounded so calm and so patient that Abby wanted to kick him. "Who do they match?"

"Victim's wife." Abby sighed. "Cherchez la femme, it's the same in all the great detective stories. When the author can't think of a good way to end the book, you know it's gonna be the wife…or the girlfriend, or the boyfriend…or the lover…sometimes a secret lover…so I guess it's more 'cherchez l'amour,' or something like that, but you know what I'm getting at."

Gibbs nodded.

Abby glared. She didn't exactly glare at Gibbs, because that would be inadvisable. Instead, she glared just past his ear at a spot on the wall, which hadn't done anything to her, but would be forced to accept her misdirected frustration anyway. As she was boring a hole in the wall with her eyes, however, Abby realized that she had a defensive weapon that she hadn't even thought about using. She had a date this Friday, and Gibbs probably didn't know about it yet. Maybe if he found out, he'd stop worrying about her being stuck on him, and tensions between the two of them would ease enough for her to start winning his sympathies back. Turning back to him, a new smile on her face, Abby asked him, "can I ask a question?"
"You just did," Gibbs informed her, "but if it's quick, you can ask another one."

"It's a very personal question." Abby waited for his response, but Gibbs just nodded, encouraging her. "Okay." She folded her hands primly in her lap, looked up mischievously at him, and asked, "what does a woman have to do to make you think that she looks sexy?"

Gibbs was apparently a little bit taken aback by the question. More than a little bit, thought Abby, as she watched him open his mouth slightly, take in a quick, harsh little breath, and then close it again. After a moment, he exhaled again, and looked for a moment as though he was seriously considering Abby's question. She decided to give him a little help.

"Cause you see," she began, "Tim and I are going out this Friday. On a date. I mean, a real, not-just-friends-but-kinda-sorta-friends-but-mostly-not-as-friends date. At a nice restaurant. He asked me this morning, and Tony says that it's about time, but I guess I never figured that he'd actually…still be interested in something like that. I mean, I know that he and I…well, that he has a bit of a…" She blushed a little, and tried to get herself back onto ground where she felt comfortable. "That is," she repeated, "I know that he has a bit of a thing for me, still, but I figured it would stay that way. Just a little crush, you know. Anyway, he says we're going somewhere very fancy, and that I should get dressed up, and I wanted to know what the most attractive thing about a woman is, so that I can…try to emphasize it, I guess. And don't say something vulgar. Not, of course," she added hastily, "that you would say something vulgar, but you might think that he might, and…you shouldn't. Because Tim's a very sweet guy, really."

Gibbs took a moment to process her litany of disconnected thoughts, looking at her through searching eyes that had suddenly gone a little glassy. It occurred to her that maybe Gibbs did not want to be personally aware of any romantic liaisons between members of his team, and she wondered for a moment if maybe, she'd only made his opinion of her even worse than it already was. After a moment, however, Gibbs sighed.

"Well," he said, "I can't speak to what McGee would be the most…interested in. All I know is that a woman is the most beautiful when she's feeling good and confident about herself. Shouldn't be a problem for you, Abs. You've got lots to be confident about."

He turned slowly and walked back towards the elevator. Abby watched him go, feeling the warm, fuzzy sensation creep through her bones that always overtook her when she received any sort of compliment from Gibbs. Maybe it really all was going to be okay. It would just take a little bit of time to heal the bond. Everything good, after, all, took a little bit of time. She could wait. Probably. She would try, at least, to be able to wait.

***

Gibbs was standing outside of Ducky's home when the doctor came to answer the doorbell at 9 o'clock that evening. Upon opening the door and finding him there, Ducky didn't seem at all surprised. Instead he smiled one of his small, knowing smiles, and ushered Gibbs in to the main foyer.

"Well," asked Ducky, "what can I do for you? Have you come to tell me that you've changed your mind, or is this just a social call?"

Gibbs threw his hands out in front of him, and then let them fall to his sides in a defeated gesture. Ducky nodded.

"Well," he said, "whether or not you've come to encourage my advice, I hope you'll join me for some dinner." He moved off through the hall and into the dining room. As he went, he called over his shoulder, "you know, you really are in very good hands. It may not be a matter of public record, but I was quite the Don Juan in my younger days…"

Gibbs stared after him. Suddenly fighting back an irresistible urge to grin, he followed him, saying, "Yeah, Duck…I don't doubt it."