Gibbs looked from the strange coloured patch of fluid on the floor to his offending team members. McGee glanced at him, then wished he hadn't. He'd never seen Gibbs so angry before; not even when he'd failed to bring Sarah in.
"Conference room. Now" he ground out, looking from McGee to Abby. Beside him, he heard Abby's audible gulp; she'd rarely been in trouble with Gibbs before, and there was no escaping that they were in big trouble.
She completely ignored him as they made their way up to the conference room and sat down to wait for Gibbs. From her crossed arms and rigid posture, he could tell she was still angry. They sat for a few minutes in silence before she spoke.
"This is your fault, McGee."
Stung, he responded "My fault?"
"Yes! If you hadn't come down to the lab and picked a fight-"
He interrupted her "Picked a fight?" He went to deny it, then realised he had. He'd started this fight, even if he hadn't meant to. She carried on talking over him like she hadn't heard him. "I've never mishandled evidence before, McGee." It occurred to him that that was she was most angry about. The evidence. Not what they'd been fighting about. Not that their relationship was breaking down, day by day. The evidence. With a kind of horrified realisation, he knew that it was over.
Gibbs entered the room at that moment, fury written all over his face. In a strange way, the shock of knowing that he'd irretrievably lost Abby insulated him from the worst of Gibbs' tirade. He still heard every word, but it was like they were being said to someone else, someone completely separate to him. Dimly, he heard Gibbs banning him from the lab and gave an internal snort. He wasn't likely to be willingly spending time down there in the near future.
Gibbs leaned forward over the table at his most intimidating. "Do I make myself clear?" he asked Abby and McGee. Dully McGee nodded, not sure what he was agreeing to.
He sat at the table for a long while after Abby and Gibbs left the room, too drained to move.
...
McGee was restless. He wandered aimlessly around his apartment, thinking incessantly about the fight that afternoon. As much as he hated it, there was only one real choice open to him. Shrugging back into his jacket, he picked up his keys and left the apartment. He needed to talk to Gibbs.
Knowing full well that his boss never locked his doors, he didn't bother to knock, pushing open the front door and entering the house. He'd never been here uninvited before; he guessed that Gibbs would probably be in the basement, working on yet another boat. He made his way through the house, settling partway down the steps. He knew that Gibbs was aware of his presence, though the older man didn't say anything. After a short time, Gibbs silently emptied one of the many jars of nails, refilling it with bourbon and handing it to McGee. He took it with a nod and sipped at it, hoping the neat spirit would take away some of the chill he felt inside. Gibbs quietly resumed his sanding, the rhythmic sound soothing.
"I asked her to marry me." McGee announced presently. A momentary pause in sanding was the only outward sign of surprise from Gibbs. "When?"
"A month ago."
"Ah." There was a wealth of understanding in the single syllable; McGee knew he didn't need to explain what had passed between him and Abby, not to this man.
"We can't even work together anymore." He fell silent again, lost in his thoughts. Finally reaching the decision he knew had to make, he continued. "I've loved her for seven years, Boss." He took a gulp of the bourbon, not registering that it had gone stale in the jar. "I'm done. I'll be lodging my transfer papers in the morning."