"Everything You Ever Wanted"

Abby had shut herself in her lab. She was sitting in her chair, glaring aimlessly at her computer, clinging to Bert the Hippo & clutching a Caf-Pow. Gibbs had tried to drag her out, but she locked her lab door. Once she heard the clacking (a telltale sign of lock-picking), she retreated into her back room, disabled the motion censor, & plopped down onto her red futon.

Gibbs finally made his way in, only to find the sad sight of his usually-perky forensic scientist wallowing in depression. He silently recalled her last words to Tim. He'd known that McGee had been in love with her, but he'd always thought that she hadn't reciprocated. He had been wrong; very wrong.

What she would have given to know his secret, Gibbs would never know. Abby would never know that the black-haired gentleman in the back row had been broken-hearted when she had given her speech . . . that his hazel-glazed eyes had followed her every move.

Gibbs sighed heavily. He was willing himself to go see her; she was like a daughter to him. He wanted to comfort her, but there was nothing that he could say- nothing that Witness protection would let him reveal, that would un-break her.

A chill ran through her. She was freezing; she'd forgotten an extra blanket. Her Caf-Pow wasn't as sweet as usual . . . to tell the truth, nothing really tasted sweet anymore.

God, why had she even gone to the funeral? She had told herself over & over that it wouldn't help heal the pain. . .

To tell the truth, she'd just wanted to see him one last time.

On a sudden impulse, she fixed her motion censor and darted out of her lab. She flew past Tony & Ziva walking down the hallway, flew past Palmer coming out of Autopsy, and darted into the bullpen, nearly knocking over Gibbs.

"Oh, sorry, Gibbs!" she blurted.

"It's alright, Abbs. What's the emergency, anyway?"

"I need you to drive me somewhere, I didn't take my car today,"

". . . Where?"

She clammed up. How could she tell him? He'd just say that it was a bad idea, or that she would only mess herself up more. Or he'd give her some old cold case to keep her busy. . .

But he spoke before she could.

"Get Tony to take you, Abby. I wouldn't feel right doing that."

Thank God, he understood.

"Hush"

The ride there was completely silent. Tony had started to protest, but when he looked at the pain in her eyes, he gave in. She kept fidgeting nervously as he pulled into the lot. She cracked open her door before he could fully stop the car; she jumped out & ran inside.

She took the stairs two at a time, grabbing the key out of her back pocket as she ran. Her hands shook so hard she could barely unlock the door. But, slowly, the lock clicked, letting her inside.

Oh, God, it still looked the same as it had the last time she'd been there. Taking a few steps, she left the door open in case Tony wanted to come, too. Though she doubted it.

Tim's apartment was pretty tidy; not many things were out of their normal order. The typewriter sat quietly on his desk next to a finished draft of Rock Hollow. His bathroom still had the silly monkey curtains, and his mirror was still shining brightly. She looked away when she saw her own face; pale, drained, dead.

She walked a few more paces before stopping. She gripped the doorframe tightly, her knuckled turning white. She blinked back the inevitable tears and walked the last few steps into Tim's bedroom.

The covers were flung back. He must have gotten right up when his alarm want off. The pillow still had the indention where he had laid. She could imagine him here. In his room, he was warm, calm, happy, and alive.

She fall onto his bed, sobbing. She laid her head onto his pillow, feeling where he had been. His room smelled like him, too. God, she missed that smell. She remembered it from when he had hugged her the afternoon before he left . . . she remembered trying to decide whether or not to just kiss him right there and then.

A knock interrupted her thoughts. Tony shuffled in, head down.

"We should leave, Abby. I feel like we're invading Probie's space." He said quietly.

She sniffed and nodded, lifting herself off of the mattress. She walked over to his dresser & peeled two shirts out, tucking them under her arm.

"That's what I came for, anyway. I've been having trouble sleeping . . . these should help."

Tony led her out of the apartment, but he didn't protest when she grabbed Rock Hollow off of his desk.

"It's just a bedtime story, Tony," she whispered.

He nodded silently. He led her to the door, shutting Tim McGee's life behind it.