Oct 7
Great souls by instinct to each other turn. – Joseph Addison, The Campaign
Tim was bored. Very bored.
He was sitting in Abby's lab, not normally a place of boredom. But today he was waiting for a fingerprint match and he couldn't do anything else without it. They needed to identify their dead body in Autopsy before they could make their next move.
Gibbs had sent him to help Abby out with all the evidence. The Goth in turn was incredibly protective of her 'babies' and had refused to allow him anywhere near them. So he was stuck running fingerprints for the afternoon.
As though she could read his thoughts, Abby settled on the chair next to him. "Which database are you on now?" she inquired.
"Well, he's not military," Tim concluded. "Currently on the East Coast felon list."
"I always like them," Abby smiled. "What did el jefe say?"
"About?"
"The case! His gut is always right."
He stared at her. "Abby, you are a scientist. You cannot believe in Gibbs' gut."
She pouted. "But it never fails! Are you also going to deny that he knows exactly when I get a result?"
"There is a reason a court would never convict based on Gibbs' gut alone," he pointed out. "They need evidence first. Which means Gibbs' gut cannot always be right."
"It's never wrong," she replied. "Have you ever known it to be?"
"Gibbs is not infallible," he answered, sidestepping the question. "He makes mistakes like everyone else. I mean the man's been divorced three times."
"And?" The deep voice of Gibbs directly behind him made his heart drop.
The computer dinged, his salvation. "Our dead body is Aaron Miller, boss," Tim found himself saying.
A glare was his only reply.