A week passed.

With each day, McGee came to regret taking the gamble of telling Abby how he felt more and more. The nature of his specialist skills that made him a valuable member of the team meant that he spent much of his time working with Abby. He used to enjoy it, used to welcome it. But that was before. Now he was acutely aware of her presence, and their previously companionable work relationship was strained and awkward. He was conscious of the little odd side glances she kept shooting in his direction too. She'd do it when she thought he wasn't looking, and it was always with the same speculative expression, like she was trying to figure something out.

All in all, it was a relief when the weekend arrived; they didn't even have call out duty. He was determined to spend the time alone, only answering his door or his phone if it was absolutely necessary. At least that way he would only have the ever- persistent thoughts and dreams of Abby to torment him, and not the woman herself.

...

This, Abby decided, had been the most painful week of her life.

As Fate would have it, the case they'd landed this week had required a lot of tricky computer forensic investigation. Which meant that McGee had spent the majority of the week in her lab. There really wasn't a way around it; it had needed both of them to solve the multiple computer issues that had come out of the woodwork on this one.

She'd really wanted a quiet, easy week- as far as possible in her job- so that she could figure out what to do about McGee's revelation. Instead, she'd gotten a week of awkwardness and tension. To give him credit, McGee hadn't been sullen or mopey. He'd been distant instead, but she could see how unhappy he was. It tore at her heart. And it was worse knowing that she'd caused his pain.

She still hadn't spoken to him about that night. It had become the proverbial elephant in the room, but she was determined not to bring it up until she knew what she was going to tell him. She was still trying to figure that one out.

Reaching home, she turned the ringer down on her landline, set her cell to 'vibrate' and settled herself on the couch. She needed to be alone to sort things out in her own head.

She cared for McGee, and in a way she'd never cared for anyone else. But was that enough? Especially when she knew he loved her? The first time he'd told her could've been dismissed as the alcohol talking, but she knew it was true. She saw it in his eyes every time he looked at her.

Even if it was enough to start a relationship with him, was that really what she wanted? Relationships were scary, and messy, and confining. What if she made him realise he'd misunderstood her, and they started... something... and her feelings never went beyond caring? What then? She'd wind up breaking his heart.

She turned the problem over and over in her head, barely noticing the hours passing until a faint grey light began to filter into her apartment. Realising that dawn was breaking, she slowly got up from her now cramped position and went to bed.

...

When she awoke late on Saturday morning, she felt calmer. A few things had become clearer while she slept.

McGee loved her. She knew he would never try to control her. She'd admitted that to him that night. And she owed him an explanation.

She got out of her coffin and got dressed. While she had no idea where it would lead, she needed to see Tim.

...

McGee ignored the knocking at first, hoping that whoever was on his doorstep would get the point and leave. Instead, the knocking got louder and more insistent. Jethro went over and started scratching at the closed door, giving a little yip. Inwardly he sighed. There was no way his visitor hadn't heard that.

"McGee, open up. I know you're in there..."

Abby. Great. Reluctantly he opened the door, torn between wanting to see her and wanting her to just leave him alone.

"What do you want, Abby?"

She barged past him. "We need to talk, McGee."

He closed the door behind her, taking his time so he had a moment to organise his thoughts. He turned and leant against it, unwilling to get too close. She was standing in the middle of his living room, watching him. Suddenly acutely aware that he wasn't wearing a shirt, he crossed his arms over his chest, wishing he'd grabbed one on his way out of the shower.

"You want to talk, so talk" he told her.

She took a deep breath. "When you came to my apartment last week and told me-told me that you love me-"

He interrupted her. "I remember." As much as he tried to control it, he heard the pain come out in his voice and saw her eyes widen.

"I'm-I'm sorry, McGee. But you never gave me a chance to respond-"

He cut her off again. "You responded, Abby. Maybe not in words, but I got the message loud and clear." It came out ragged and harsh. God, where was his self control? Now, when he needed it most?

"I hurt you. I know that. But you got the wrong message, McGee."

His heart skipped a beat at her words. Was it possible that he'd gotten it wrong? He raised one shaky hand and rubbed at his forehead. "But- you shook your head-"

It was her turn to interrupt. "Because you took me by surprise, Tim." She took one step closer to him. "We'd had one night together, 3 weeks earlier. Just one night. And then you were on my doorstep telling me- telling me that you love me. How else was I supposed to react?"

She was moving ever closer to him as she spoke. Finally she stopped at arm's reach. He could feel his heart pounding. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, gentler. "I shook my head because I couldn't believe I hadn't seen how you felt before then, Tim. Not because I don't care."