Probie's Coffin Chapter 11
By LMR
What Gibbs Can Do With Rule # 12
Disclaimer: Ownership is just a state of Mind. Unfortunately, the Governer of Mind has informed me that I do not, in fact own any property there, thus confirming what most who know me have long suspected: I don't have any Mind.
When McGee entered the lab the next day to deliver the Danielowski file (I promise, that's the last time I use that silly file to make them go everywhere!), he was feeling apprehensive. His talk with Eleanor had at once set him at ease and terrified him. How was that even possible? It was her last day here, and he wasn't sure what kind of mood Abby would be in. She started talking in the general direction of the door when she heard it open. "Hold your horses, Gibbs, I'll be finished in a minute." She peered for a moment more into her microscope, then turned to face McGee. She grinned. "Sorry, I assumed you must be Gibbs because you didn't knock."
"Sorry."
"No worries." She turned back to her work. "I'd rather see you anyway."
That made McGee stop in his tracks. "Really?"
"Well, duh, you don't yell at me."
"Oh," he sounded disappointed again.
She smiled. "And you're more fun," she assured him. "So how's your special agent training going, 'Probie'?" She asked playfully. The nickname sounded totally different when she said it than Tony.
"Well, I only had to redo my report once."
"Wow, that's really impressive." McGee could tell she meant it. "Has Gibbs made you memorize the 10 million rules by rote?"
McGee laughed a little. "Pretty much."
"Good." Abby started writing on a small piece of paper. Over her shoulder, McGee could see that it was a series of 1's and 0's. "Incidentally, Gibbs knows zilch about binary."
"Yeah, I know," McGee said, puzzled. He looked again at the paper. 00110010 00110010. He started translating mentally.
"So, just for example, if Gibbs got a hold of, say, this," she held up the paper, "he would never know what's written on it. It's like a code." She handed the paper to him.
"Why would we want a code?"
She looked at him with the intense stare she tended to give, one that might scare someone who didn't know her. Knowing her personality, of course, it was more the glare or a stubborn five year old. "To break it," she said simply. She swiped the paper back and crumpled it up. She tossed it in the recycling bin in the corner.
"Well, you didn't need to do that. All it said was '12'."
She smiled a little and put her arms up over his shoulders. "Well I think twelve sucks."
Eleanor was spying from near the door. She glanced down at the bin where the 12 was crumpled and thrown away, and sincerely hoped that McGee understood, because if she had to spell it out, it would really loose it's dramatic punch. She looked back into the lab. Okay, then, he gets it, apparently. She snuck away, trying to stay quiet so they wouldn't know she was there.
R&R, and no, I haven't forgotten TATE! I shall be back! (Groan from audience).