Disclaimer: Please go to chapter 1 to view the disclaimer

Spoilers: Bloodbath Major Spoilers

Abby lie next to Gibbs, in his arms, a place where she's never felt safer. He told her that he would keep her safe.

And, damn, did she believe it.

He always told her things that put a smile on her face, or make her feel like she's never felt before.

You're beautiful, Abbs.

The first time that they were ever together, after Kate's funeral, he told her that so many times.

God, did she love him.

Regardless of whether she had a stalker or not, she would have been with him tonight anyway. She respected his decision of having her stay somewhere else first. He had signed to her that Mikel might expect her to be with him directly after the situation occurred.

Obviously, Mikel wasn't as smart as they thought he would be.

Nevertheless, he had made sure that she was safe and she had made sure that McGee still had a job and use of both of his legs after the incident at his apartment.

Abby kissed the back of Gibbs hand that he had securely around her waist before getting out of the bed.

Gibbs didn't wake up. It was as though he sensed that Abby had left the bed willingly and was not in danger.

She always knew that they had a connection.

Abby put on Gibbs' Marines shirt and grabbed a pair of his boxers from the drawer.

It smelled of sawdust, cologne, and something completely Gibbs that she was positive she would never be able to place.

She swore, right there, that whenever she wanted to feel safe, that she would wear that shirt.

Then, Abby made her way down to his basement, needing to work out some of the stress thinking about Mikel had caused.

I need some of that bourbon…

***

She sanded and sanded, and she drank just enough for her to still understand what was going on around her, but also still able forget, somewhat, about her troubles.

She was down there for, at the most, an hour and a half. However she had lost track of time as soon as she felt the burning sensation from the amber liquid travel down her throat.

"Nothing like a nice, quiet, dungeon-like basement to calm the nerves…" Abby says to the empty room while the sanding strip made its way down the wood.

She heard footsteps make their way towards her, she knew it was Gibbs.

"You need to sleep, Abby," he lectured lightly in a way that made her flashback momentarily to a their light banter in her lab.

"I know, I did…for a little while anyway. After that, I kept seeing Mikel whenever I closed my eyes," she responds.

"With the grain," he advises, reaching for her hand and moving it in an upward path along the wood. He kissed her temple and moved to seat himself at the work bench.

"I thought I was," she chuckles slightly. "I don't understand," Abby begins her bourbon fueled rant, "why people drink alcohol when they're depressed. Because alcohol is a depressant. Now I'm depressed…And I'm nauseous…And I'm really drunk," she slurs, throwing the sanding block on the floor.

She walks to the other bench, covered with tools, nearly dropping the bottle of bourbon in her left hand. Luckily Gibbs caught it before he was forced to clean it.

"Which means that tomorrow," she continues, choosing a saw from his assortment of tools, "I have to go fight a hangover, while I'm in court, while some ambulance chasing attorney tries to attack my credibility."

"What is wrong with me, Gibbs?" She asks, not expecting an answer. She choosing a complicated tool, this time. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"It's not about you, Abby. It's about him," Gibbs responds.

"Then, why do I feel so guilty?"

"I don't know. Why do ya', Abbs?"

"Because…I think this might all be my fault…" She chokes, to some extent.

"Maybe it is…" He didn't want to say it, but if it would help her, then he would.

"How could you say that to me Gibbs?" Abby was utterly shocked. Had she not been in such a drunken state, she would have noticed what Gibbs was trying to do. "I didn't do anything wrong. Just because some defective lunatic can't get it through his thick skull that I think he is a defective…lunatic," by the end of that sentence she was glad it was Gibbs sitting there, listening to the ridiculous thing she had just said, rather than her high-school English teacher. "That is not my fault, Gibbs. That's not my fault at all! That is not my fault."

Ooooooh!

"That is not my fault," she said as realization dawned over her of what Gibbs had just pulled on her.

He had plastered a smug smirk on his face by this point.

"Huh. I see why you like to work on your boat, Gibbs. Very cathartic," she states as she chiseles a chunk off of his boat.

His smirk disappeared, although his eyes still carried a twinkle of amusement.

Oops. "Oops."

She hands the tools back to him.

"Suddenly having a stalker on the loose isn't so scary," She says.

"He's not on the loose, Abby. DiNozzo called; the coastguard picked up Mikel Mower trying to cross the Anacostia," he explains. "I came down here to tell you that. I also wanted to make sure you hadn't set my boat on fire."

"Would you really have cared if I had gotten to it before you did?" Abby teases, referring to his infamous habit of setting his boats on fire after he completes them.

"Bed, Abby."

"Fine…" she says.

"You can be a real killjoy, but I love you anyway," Gibbs hears her mutter under her breath as she makes her way up the basement stairs.

"Love you, too, Abbs," he chuckles through a smirk.