DISCLAIMER:

I do not own the rights to any of the NCIS characters (unfortunately!) They all belong to CBS.

I only play with them for fun ;)

Author's Note:

Hi there, fellow NCIS fans! Firstly, a massive 'thank you' to everyone who left a comment or PM-ed me. I appreciate every feedback and every correction. And I am so, so glad that you like it so far!

Secondly – Alex, thank you for being my sounding board (again!)

Thirdly and finally – to all of you – please forgive me for any mistakes. English isn't my first language and I didn't have any Beta around to go through it. Also, which I keep forgetting to mention - this story is my first shot at writing in the Present Tense and it still feels like a minefield to me.

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Chapter 4

With two large cups of Caf-Pow! in a handy cardboard holder, she walks into the building. Once her signature is on the daily security log at the entrance, she takes the main lift in the lobby straight down to the lab. There's no point taking the everyday detour via the Squad room; at the moment, there's no one in the bullpen anyway. This is why she is in her domain in less than fifteen seconds rather than after the usual fifteen minutes that she spends with the team almost each morning. The lab's door is locked and the first thing she does after opening it is to hit the light switch. The darkness disperses and she makes her way to the fridge, where she deposits her Caf-Pow! and then to her still unlit office, where she leaves the backpack and the coat. The rest is just a matter of a few minutes. Waking her beloved electronic babies up is something she could do probably even in her sleep.

When she logs in to her work account, there are over eighty new e-mails waiting for her. Nothing unusual. During the weekdays, she would have dealt with them the moment they arrived but twenty four hours away from the keyboard means the e-mails just keep piling up. For years and years, she had simply read them at home but that's another of those things she can no longer do, courtesy of the decision that came from the very top of their ladder. Their Director, 'By-The-Book' Vance, had turned a deaf ear to her reasoning that quite a lot of these e-mails often happen to be urgent and redirected her to some of the agency's rules and regulations.

There were many but it was the rule about logging in from the NCIS approved, secure devices that she had expected she would have to fight against. Her laptop is, as she had tried to reason with Vance, no less protected than the computers at NCIS, has got the official NCIS programming installed on it – installed with the Director's own permission, as she hadn't hesitated to remind him – and her network at home goes through regular and rigorous checks. Oddly enough, Vance didn't question her laptop being a secure, NCIS approved device, or her ability to make her network safe – he was more focused on emphasizing that work should be dealt with at workplace and simply left there once the official working hours were over. For the afterhours was the out-of-office automatic reply. "Oh, it's very useful and I'm sure it works in Legal or Accounts Departments. The MCRT is not the textbook nine-to-five though," was her reply – a very calm one, considering that in her head she was roftling on the office's floor, howling like a laughing hyena at the mere thought of putting 'MCRT', 'official working hours' and 'out-of-office reply' together in one sentence. But she hadn't managed to convince Vance to look through his fingers. Whether she pulled nine-to-five or more, it didn't matter; her work was to be left at work and he warningly promised to keep tabs on that. And he has, so far. Hence the piles of the weekend mail.

Feeling like she could do with a little boost of energy before diving into that metaphorical pile, she retrieves one of her Caf-Pow!s from the fridge. "C'mon, my sweet, give me a little wakey wakey," she chants after a few sips. There's no reason to drink more just yet – she doesn't expect Agent Balboa to come back for at least another hour. Then, she will need more energy.

Waiting for the caffeine to kick in, she eyes the long list of all the unread messages. Amongst the system junk, the delivery reports, her subscriptions and the numerous 'to-all' agency memos, only a few are marked 'urgent' this time. After having read them all, she replies to each one, attaching what was requested and then, slower, goes through the rest of the list. She is well into the sixth dozen when her cell buzzes loudly on the computer bench. It's an alert for another e-mail but this time on her private account. The name of the sender gives her a genuine jolt of excitement and it has nothing to do with a quarter of Caf-Pow! gone from its cup.

'Hi Abby,' she reads, 'what's up, girl? We haven't heard from you recently. All ok? You haven't drowned in some chemical solution, have you?

Just kidding. Chrissy would have had my head for making jokes like that.

I'm e-mailing you between things that are about to be done and other things that were supposed to be done yesterday so I'll be brief – could you be my angel again and lend me your ear? The two files attached below are two different versions of the same song. I've written it as a surprise for Chrissy so it's more about the 'personal feels' than its selling potential (maybe I will publish it but not sure yet).

Let me know which one you think is better,

John L.'

She jumps at the prospect. It's not the first time her musician friend trusts her with his unpublished piece, asking for a second opinion, and she had never refused, even though John's genre isn't exactly her cup of tea. A favor for a friend is a favor for a friend – and besides, there is just something about his compositions that even she, a fan of heavier beats, simply cannot resist.

And having nothing better to do yet, she jumps right to it.

She doesn't bother listening to the files on her phone. The tiny speaker wouldn't do John's music justice. She pulls the laptop out of her backpack onto her computer bench, turns it on and plugs in to the lab's sophisticated network. After running a scan for any potentially dangerous content, she starts downloading both files, meanwhile familiarizing herself with the text that John had added in the third attachment.

'What would I do without your smart mouth?

Drawing me in and kicking me out

You got my head spinning, no kidding

I can't pin you down

What's going on in that beautiful mind?

I'm on your magical mystery ride

And I'm so dizzy, don't know what hit me

But I'll be all right.'

"Huh. Cute," she announces her initial verdict to no one in particular and carries on reading and memorizing the rest. The lyrics are cute, though not overly. "Let's see what awesomeness you have conceived this time, Johnny boy!"

She hits 'play' and soft but rhythmic sounds of a piano start playing from the lab's speakers. After just the first four measures, an electronic drum joins in, almost immediately followed by a bass guitar, setting the mellow but distinct R&B style. When John's voice finally comes in, her head is already bobbing lightly up and down to the rhythm. She closes her eyes, letting the rich theme of the song and John's playful voice to fill her head.

Even before the track is over, she knows it's good. The lyrics are cute but also deep enough to shake off the 'cheesy' label, the melody is easy enough that she has half-memorized it by now, the blues beat makes the music theme so catchy she finds herself humming along, and John's shifts between melisma and smooth jazzy grooving is simply flawless. The song is so damn irresistible that she cannot help but like it. It's good, really good.

And if this one is this good, she already imagines just how good the second one would need to be in order to beat it.

"Please, let it not be pop," she mutters and bracing herself just in case, she slides the cursor of the mouse over the icon 'next' and clicks.

But no cheese plays from the speakers. Like in the first version, the sounds of the piano float through the silence of the lab but this time round, no drums or bass guitar join the theme. The piano plays solo the entire intro and it sounds clearer, more pronounced, with a slight echo to it that tells her that this is probably a grand piano rather than a modern electronic piano from the first version. The theme is the same but there is no swing to it; the rhythm of the intro is regular, its melody firm but delicate, built from only three tones at a time. It's simple and solemn, and nowhere near enough to make her body move to the rhythm, even in the slightest. Quite the contrary - it freezes her to the spot.

She can't help but to feel intrigued.

And then, John finally comes in and it's not only her body that stills but her lungs, too.

Those lyrics...

The same lyrics that previously looked just cute on paper and were just an integral part of the playful R&B, now delivered differently, with the grand piano being the sole supported, are now a focal point of the song. As a matter of fact, each word of the long verse is focal; each sinks in deep inside her and resonates strongly within her, making her heart clench and unclench in a painful dance.

'Cause all of me loves all of you. Love your curves and all your edges, all your perfect imperfections,' John sings out soulfully the chorus of his power ballad and she finally remembers that she does need to breathe. 'Give your all to me! I'll give my all to you. You're my end and my beginning, even when I lose I'm winning."

The meaning of the chorus hits her full on and it is then, something inside her, something deep, deep inside her just snaps.

NCIS*** NCIS*** NCIS***NCIS***NCIS***NCIS***NCIS***NCIS***