Author's Note: Here's another chapter - a bit of a tough one to write, but hopefully I managed without going too sentimental... Thanks, as always, to everyone who's read this far. :)

It's a bleary-eyed, under-caffeinated Abby that answers the door on Monday morning, and as she steps back to let him in, she smothers a yawn with her hand. "Hey, Gibbs."

"You okay?" She's usually so chipper in the mornings that seeing her this way is cause for concern.

"Partying all weekend," she mumbles, shuffling over to the sleeping bag that lies on the floor and beginning to roll it up. "Coffeemaker's already in Scotland. I was using my neighbour's in the meantime, and I gave it back yesterday. Didn't think it through."

Suppressing a smile, Gibbs looks around the almost empty room. One giant suitcase and an overnight bag make up the luggage she needs to take on her flight. As he watches, she drops into a crouch, rolls up the sleeping bag to an impossibly small size, and then stuffs it into her suitcase.

One sleepy, futile tussle with the zipper on the case later, she looks up at him pleadingly. "Can you… maybe… help me get this shut?"

"Sit on it," Gibbs recommends, crouching beside her. "Could probably transport you to Scotland in this, Abbs."

She smiles sadly, sitting cross-legged on the case so that her legs don't impede the path of the zipper. "Can't really watch the in-flight movie from in there."

Gibbs guides the zipper home with an effort, his arm accidentally nudging Abby's knee. She jerks away as if she's been burned – definitely not a usual Abby reaction to being touched.

"Caf-Pow! in my car, if you want it," he tells her, straightening up.

She scrambles off the case immediately, holding out her hand for his keys. "Be right back."

While she's gone, Gibbs wanders through the empty apartment, devoid of traces of the woman who's lived here for years. The furniture that remains was supplied by the landlord, and most of it has been hidden away under throws or held in storage.

It's not Abby's home any more, and it's the last time either of them will set foot here. Without her in the room, it could be anywhere.

"I'm gonna miss Caf-Pow!," Abby sighs, leaning against the doorframe. Already, she seems more awake, buoyed up on a cocktail of caffeine and sugar. "I mean, they still have Red Bull and Relentless over there, so I'm not going completely cold turkey, but…"

"It'll still be here, when you get back." The hesitation before the word when is intentional; an emphasis.

"It will." Her eyes are distressed, and Gibbs crosses the room to place his hands on her shoulders.

"Abby." She blinks at him, waiting, and he looks intently into her face, attempting to scope out what she's hiding. "Promise me that you're not in any trouble. That someone's not gonna fly out after you and try to hurt you while I can't get to you."

For a second, she seems bewildered, but then her slight frown smoothes out, and her lips curve a little. "Gibbs…"

"Promise me, Abbs, or the only place I'm driving you is to my place…"

"Huh?" It's half-question, half-laugh.

"…where you will stay," Gibbs continues, "until you've found a new apartment here in DC."

She rolls her eyes and tries to turn away, but he doesn't release her shoulders. "Humour me. Without glossing over the truth."

Abby sighs. "I promise. I'm not running scared. I'm not fleeing the country to avoid the law, or the IRS, or a psycho ex."

"Just personal demons," he finishes, hoping to irritate some honesty out of her.

She pulls away again, and this time, he lets her. "Stop pushing, Gibbs. We already talked about this."

"Just wanna make sure that you're safe, Abbs." The sentiment emerges so quietly that he's not sure she's heard it. She takes a second to react, looking over her shoulder at him with tear-filled eyes, then away again.

"I know you do."

Silence falls between them for long moments, while she stares at the floor. Gibbs is the first to break it.

"C'mon. Don't want you to miss your flight."

He waits while she checks in her baggage, and walks her as far as he can. She's uncharacteristically silent, but since last week, she's been nothing but uncharacteristic.

They reach the security checkpoint and come to a stop. "Guess this is it," Abby says, fidgeting.

"Wish you weren't going," he says softly.

Abby swallows hard. "I'll be back before you know it."

He initiates the hug before she can. "Gonna miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," she whispers, clinging to him.

When she pulls back, there are tears in her eyes again, and as he watches, one rolls down her cheekbone. He catches it with his finger, wipes it away, and shakes his head.

"Hey – no more tears. You get out there, learn new stuff, do what you have to do and come back to us. Can't put up with a rookie scientist forever."

"Be nice to Simon," Abby reproaches, scrubbing at her eyes with her hand and shooting him a stern look. "He knows his stuff."

"Not as well as you know yours," he says, glad to see her regain a little equilibrium.

"Give him time. He might surprise you. Palmer did."

Gibbs has to concede the point. "Keep in touch."

"You, too. Check your email every once in a while. It's the twenty-first century – that's how people communicate."

"Prefer letters," he shoots back.

"Then I'll write you." A group of teenagers duck around them to get to the security gate, and Abby takes the cue to get going, hugging Gibbs one last time. "Take care. Don't get killed."

"Haven't yet," he returns, squeezing her tightly, then releasing her before he can change his mind about challenging her motives again. "Get going."

For a moment, she hesitates, gazing at him as if memorising his face. Then, slowly, she nods; first stepping back, then turning away.

Gibbs moves aside as soon as her back is turned, knowing she'll glance back after a few steps. When she does, looking more emotionally vulnerable than he's seen her in months, he's out of her line of sight.

She bites her lip, nods to herself, then resumes her course, squaring her shoulders the way she always does when she knows she has to pull it together. Gibbs stays put until she's out of sight, then begins his slow walk toward the exit.

It's over and done, and there's nothing he can do about it. Time to let go of it and get to work.

Let go of it? His mouth twists into a wry smile at the thought. Yeah, that's gonna happen.

Where his people are concerned, he doesn't let go. And that applies to Abby, more than most.