Hello! I am excited to post this little story that I wrote a while ago when needing something other than my main two stories to work on. :) I hope that you enjoy!
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Abby took a seat at the outdoor picnic table. Usually she would eat in her lab, cheerfully tuning into a show on her computer or listening to music. If the team was free she would scoot up to the bull pen and sit on a spare corner of any available desk (except for Gibbs' because ... well, obviously). If she knew in advance that she would be free she would often join in on the group order. The other times she was just like a stray seagull, sneaking bites here and there, garnishing with some stolen chips or cheesies. Or else she would grab lunch at a nearby restaurant or cafe, often dragging a few friends behind her or meeting up with the top person on her recent texts list.
But today?
She sat outside on a peeling park bench in a dreary corner of the NCIS yard, holding her chilly peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The sky was considering rain but settled on spitting out enough drops to keep one in trepidation without giving the relief of a full rain shower. Abby sighed, unwrapped the sandwich, muttered a grumpy blessing over it, and then took a bite. Too sticky. Not enough jelly. It was not as sweet as she had been looking forward to all morning in telling herself that at least there was one small good thing ahead.
Another disappointment.
She considered throwing it out, but she had no spunk today. She would have to plod to a cafe, and with all the plodding she had already done there would not be enough time to enjoy what she bought. She would probably just end up burning her mouth on it.
"Stupid sandwich."
She glared at the offending two pieces of bread on which she had been too generous with one condiment and too stingy with another.
Stupid sandwiches.
And stupid evidence without any salvageable DNA.
Now we'll never be able to solve that rape and murder. Some sicko is getting away with murder - literally! - because I can't find anything to do my job with! If I could only get the tiniest viable sample, I just know that I could do something to help! Maybe it wouldn't be enough, probably it would connect to nothing ... but at least I'd have tried. At least there'd be something in the system so that someday maybe there could be closure for the victim's family.
I'm letting the victim down.
And that was the real problem. Misty days and uneven sandwiches were usually not such a big deal. But Abby did not cope well with thinking she had failed others and that was the real reason for the slow sulk in the hidden corner of the courtyard.
There were always so many people relying on Abby's lab work. Her forensics - often more reliable although sometimes just as subjective as any other element of a criminal investigation - were used not only by Gibbs' team (as sometimes guessed by outsiders) but by many, many other teams. It was good that she was so devoted and enthusiastic about her work or she would have drowned in the impossible demands long ago. She generally lived a lifestyle that seemed intent on breaking the world record of most overtime hours logged in a year.
But all that reliance on her was rather crushing whenever she messed up. On those ever-so-rare days, she struggled with being able to content herself with having done her best. And although today could in no way be thought of as a failure because of Abby by anyone else than Abby, she was still having trouble dealing with her downtrodden emotions.
A raindrop ended its long journey from the grey, stormy clouds on the tip of Abby's nose.
"I'm not hungry anymore," she grumbled, crumbling up her sandwich with the wrapping and tossing it into the nearest trashcan with the metal paint bubbling up in odd places.
She began plodding back toward the offices. She would travel down, down to her lab. Back down, down to confront her failure once again with the computer screens that she had left flashing with such encouraging messages as "no viable sample found" and "contaminated sample".
She started past a soggy flower pot - it looked like the rain from the previous night and then the sprinkles from the current rain clouds had worked together on trying to bring down the mood of the petunias inside but had not quite succeeded. The mini trumpet flowers were still colourful and releasing their scent. Abby saw them and felt that maybe they should be making her smile ... but it was not quite enough. The flowers still looked a bit too beat up by the world to bring her as much comfort as she needed in her lonely, doubtful moment.
But then along came the butterfly.
Where it came from, she had no clue. But there it was, against all odds, in the the middle of the yard, apparently dodging between the raindrops to get itself a sugary lunch. It settled onto a rather dilapidated blossom, fluttered its wings artfully, then switched to a fresher flower and began to dine. Abby stopped her plodding. She stopped her pondering. Her mood switched from sad and depressed and frustrated to intrigued and delighted. This delicate little omen of hope had flitted across her path at the perfect moment.
If a butterfly ... which is extremely delicate - can keep going against all the odds, then so can I. At least I can buy my sugar in one big cup!
"Hey, Abby!"
Abby turned around and found that she now had enough energy for a smile that lit up her face upon spotting Tony jogging toward her.
"Hey, Tony. What's up?"
Tony came to a stop and flashed her a smile.
"How are you doing?" he asked with an understanding smile. "I heard that the evidence fell through. I wanted to check how you were doing with that."
Abby smiled sadly. "It was disappointing. I really wanted to get that guy, you know?"
Tony nodded seriously. "I know."
"You do, don't you?" Abby asked, realizing that Tony had put even more hours into this case than she had.
"I do," he confirmed, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and pulling out the other from behind his back. "I know it's not your fault that the evidence didn't work out, Abs. I picked up a 'thanks' Caf-Pow! for you on my way back from lunch. I know that these kinds of failures always takes a lot out of you." He paused and pointed to the butterfly. "Looks, Abs. Another butterfly who loves sugary drinks as much as you do must work around here."
"Thanks, Tony," Abby said eagerly, taking a big gulp of Caf-Pow! and feeling highly complimented by the comparison to being a butterfly. "And also, it's not a failure. It's just a setback for now. I think that someday we'll get more clues and hopefully then we'll be able to get this guy."
"That's the spirit. At least what we do know is now on the record and it can be referenced. Not every case will be solved, but at least we tried our hardest with what we had. And if, as you said, we get more evidence or leads, we will try our hardest with that."
Tony flashed his signature grin in conclusion and bent down and took a sip from Abby's straw. Abby laughed, not minding.
"Ready to go back to work?" she asked her friend.
"Definitely. We have a new case to work on. I think Gibbs'll be down to tell you all about it soon."
Abby smiled and walked away arm in arm with Tony.
Behind them, the butterfly moved on to a new flower.