"Termites? Again?" Abby held the door open as Gibbs carried in two large grocery sacks. "Were you worried they'd go after your fridge?"

"I had just brought these home when I saw them, figured you probably haven't fed yourself yet, and thought the least I could do was fix us both dinner." Gibbs carried everything through to her kitchen and began pulling things out for steak, potatoes and a salad.

Abby leaned against the entry way of the kitchen and watched as Gibbs maneuvered through her kitchen with ease, knowing right where she kept the pot big enough to boil potatoes and the pan to broil the steaks. She wondered if she looked just as comfortable in his kitchen as he did in hers.

"What're you doing about the bugs?"

"Have someone treating the place tonight."

Abby didn't ask why he didn't choose to spend the night at Ducky's or even Fornell's. She was more concerned about tense he was, his shoulders were held tight, and he moved with such tight precision as he peeled potatoes, she was worried that if she startled him in any way he might slice a finger off.

Instead of questions she decided to see if a little humor might lighten him up. "Sorry I don't have a fire place – I know it's how you prefer to cook your steak."

"This'll do." Gibbs didn't look away from the task in front of him.

"Gibbs?"

His shoulders tensed and then relaxed slightly. "It's just been a long day, I'm hungry, and wasn't expecting to come home and find my basement in such a… with termites." He turned his head to look at her, and his eyes softened at the look of concern on her face. "Think you could help me make the salad?"

"Sure. I can do that. I might not be up to par with the standards that Fornell has set, but I can make a pretty decent salad." Gibbs flicked a few drops of water at her and she giggled. Being able to coax a small smile from him was enough to temporarily set her at ease until she was in a better position to figure out what was going on.

Once dinner was ready, Abby carried their plates to her elegantly decorated dining table while Gibbs uncorked a bottle of wine that Abby insisted they have with such a nice meal.

"You always keep your dining table set so nicely?"

"Oh yeah," Abby nodded. "I just never eat here unless I have company. It amplifies the feeling of being lonely, eating at a nicely set table alone."

Gibbs set their glasses of wine down before taking his seat opposite her. The table was covered in a rich red table cloth with large bronze candelabra just slightly off center. Her plates were a mix match of elegant vintage plates she'd collected from various estate sales. Her silverware was polished silver, a mixed set, which somehow seemed to match everything else.

"Oh!" Abby jumped up from her seat and dug around in what she considered her junk drawer in her kitchen. "Can't forget to light the candles." She produced a lighter and sat back in her seat before lighting the candles on the candelabra. "Now it feels like a real restaurant with a nice meal, candles, only without the awkward reaching for the check and back and forth over who will pay."

"I've always paid when we've gone out for dinner."

"I know," Abby shrugged. "I'm just saying…"

"It looks nice."

"Thank you," she smiled proudly.

"And technically, I still paid for dinner since I brought everything with me."

"Gibbs!"

By the time they finished their dinner, Gibbs seemed much more relaxed and it put Abby at ease. Gibbs had his famous gut, and Abby went off of her Gibbsometer. She was more likely to be able to tell if something was wrong by reading him, than actually sensing if something was wrong herself. After cleaning up, once the dishwasher was humming quietly in the background, Abby tugged Gibbs over to the couch to watch some TV. She was always after him to watch one show or another, but now that she finally had him as captive audience in her apartment, he wasn't able to think of an excuse not to watch. In the end she found an old western movie in the TV guide, and he seemed genuinely interested in it. Abby found the channel and pulled the blanket from the back of the couch around her before leaning against him, tugging his arm around her shoulders.

With her face turned away from him, she smiled widely when he absentmindedly pressed a kiss to the top of her head and instead of focusing on the movie, she wondered what it would be like if she could convince him to give a real relationship with her a try.

Was he the type that liked to go out on dates? She didn't picture him as the type to go out to see a movie in the cinema, but maybe a concert at a jazz club? Or a movie at a drive-in? She was well aware of his history with past relationships, but did he remember the important dates? Valentine's day? She didn't think he was totally forgetful – there was always a little heart on her first Caf-Pow! of the day each February 14th – though she suspected that maybe it was a suggestion from the barista rather than him asking for one. Not that she considered Valentine's day anything other than a greeting card sponsored day. And he had never once forgotten her birthday, not even when they were beyond busy with a case.

She wondered if the boat was a nightly ritual when he was in a relationship, or if his nights in the basement were lessened to two or three nights a week rather than all seven if he had someone permanently in his life.

As her thoughts turned towards sex, she could feel herself blush and was thankful that she wasn't facing him. Did he like sex often? He was a man, but then again he was a little older and he certainly wasn't Tony DiNozzo, so maybe he was satisfied with once or twice a week. Did he like it rough, or was he a gentle lover? She could imagine both – him rasping out orders or his wood roughened hands caressing her so gently she would cry. Abby coughed as she choked on the idea, unsure of how she had gone from if he would consider her as a potential love interest to how his skin would feel against hers.

"You okay?" Gibbs patted her back until her cough subsided and she nodded.

"I'm fine, just a funny tickle in my throat."

"Should I get you a glass of water?" Gibbs leaned forward to get a better look at her.

"No, no I'm fine. It's all better now. Thanks." Abby smiled and settled back against him, desperately trying to focus on the last few minutes of the movie, clueless to who was even the good guy.

As the credits rolled, Gibbs gave her shoulder a soft squeeze. "Alright, Abbs, time for bed. I've heard you've got a real grouch for a boss who doesn't do well without his beauty sleep."

"Really?" Abby grinned. "I've heard the same thing!"

"Bed," He pointed down the hall. "Now. Just let me know when you're done in the bathroom."

Gibbs watched her retreating form as she walked down the hall and found himself wondering how he was supposed to sleep knowing she was only a couple feet down the hall. She emerged ten minutes later, her face free of make-up and her hair loose around her shoulders. She was in her pajamas – soft flannel shorts and a loose tank top, the peaks of her breasts just barely outlined.

"I'm done," she leaned against the doorframe of her bedroom. "The bathroom is all yours. But um, Gibbs, you don't have to sleep on the couch. My bed is big enough for two and we're both adults-"

"Thank you, Abby, but I shouldn't." I really shouldn't. Gibbs grabbed his tooth brush and the clothes he'd brought to sleep in and headed toward the bathroom, just across the hall from her.

"It's okay, really Gibbs. You'll get a better night's sleep, I promise. And I don't snore."

"I…" He shook his head. He didn't want to say no, but he knew he should.

"Gibbs, you won't be able to stretch out on my couch, you're too tall. I can't even fully stretch out. And you know that rumor about you and your beauty sleep? It's not a rumor. You'll sleep better in my bed, and I promise to keep my hands to myself."

"Abby…" He couldn't think of a simple reason as to why it wasn't a good idea. Every reason he came up with was long and complicated and had to do with how he didn't want her to keep her hands to herself.

"You're such a gentleman. But, I mean, if it bothers you that much, I'll sleep out here, I'm a few inches shorter than you, and I'm not the boss, so if I'm a little short on sleep, I won't have a whole team to be cranky wi-"

"Fine." He gave up.

Abby smiled. "It's like a real sleepover, you know? Can we tell scary stories and fall asleep with the lights on?"

Gibbs shook his head and gave her a soft shove towards the bed. She wondered briefly what he would've done if she'd tugged him with her, causing them both to stumble backwards and topple onto her soft cotton sheets and fluffy comforter. Instead she sat on the side of her bed and set her alarm before sliding between the sheets. "Alarm is set for 6:30, is that okay?"

"It's fine." Gibbs gave her a look she didn't quite understand before disappearing into the bathroom and shutting the door.

It didn't take Gibbs long to brush his teeth, and ready himself for bed. If he thought he would have a hard time sleeping on Abby's couch, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep in the same bed with her. She was already tucked under the covers when he returned, and the lights were off with the exception of a small bedside light so he could find his way through the dark.

She lay facing him, when he pulled back the covers and lay down. He clicked off the small light and looked up at the ceiling as his eyes adjusted to the dark.

"Why me?"

"Hmm?" He turned his head to look at her, though he could only make out the basic outline of her face.

"Why did you come to stay with me and not Ducky?"

"Someone's got to keep you fed." Gibbs heard a small huff and he could imagine her smiling at his comment.

"Thanks. Night, Gibbs."

"Good night, Abby."

He knew the exactly moment that she drifted to sleep. She had shifted ever so slightly closer to him until her back brushed up against her arm. He then felt her press her face deeper against her pillow and she shifted the covers up around her shoulders. With a deep sigh, he listened to her breathing slow to a deep, steady rhythm and it was then he knew she was out.

He gave his own soft sigh, grateful that he didn't have to control his own breathing or any small movements as he shifted to get comfortable. He was aware that she had listened to his breathing, hoping he would fall asleep before her so she could move a little closer. He vaguely understood her little crush on him, but he dismissed it as nothing more than a hero-worship. He'd saved her life on more than one occasion, and he wasn't sure which of them was more grateful that he'd made it just in the nick of time. But he knew she wanted more in a partner than what he could offer. He figured someone a few years younger than he, someone who would enjoy the loud concerts of bands named after body parts or emotions.

She probably wanted someone who would spoil her – though he thought he did a pretty good job of that. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. She wanted someone who could keep up with her, bouncing off the walls after only a few Caf-Pow! and more than anything, someone who could understand the science jargon that she recited to herself when she was bored or trying to confuse Tony. In his thoughts he moved on from what he figured she wanted, to what she needed.

She needed someone to look out for her, someone who understood her need to be friendly to everyone but would make sure she didn't put too much trust in the wrong people.

She needed someone who would lay down their life to keep her safe. She was brilliant in what she did, and the world needed her for many more years, making discoveries and solving crimes. He knew she needed to have her own lab, work for a company that would give her every upgraded piece of machinery she ever requested (not that he expected she would ever replace Major Mass Spec.), but for his own selfish reasons he couldn't take that step in suggesting she go somewhere where she would be treated better. Everyone at NCIS adored her, and she was treated like royalty. But funds were tight and she was no more likely to get an upgraded lab, than he was likely to become the next director. She was underpaid and overworked – she worked long hours, depending on the case, sometimes longer than he did.

He knew she received twice yearly bonuses while the team only received one, but it didn't even begin to cover the extra hours she put in while she was off the clock. He supposed she was given smaller, non-monetary royalties – her wardrobe didn't exactly follow the employee handbook, and the fact that her lab was full of toys and trinkets and that she had a futon (and slept there regularly) wasn't exactly smiled upon, but it was Abby - No one saw the point in complaining.

She shifted slightly in her sleep and Gibbs, finally certain she wasn't going to wake up, rolled to his side to look her. If he lifted his head from the pillow he could see the outline of her cheek, her delicate ear, the way her neck sloped down into her shoulder. He took a risk by pressing his chest to her back, and then, when she didn't move, her took another risk by resting his arm over her waist. She moved slightly to settle back against him, but when she mumbled something he couldn't understand, he knew she hadn't woken up.

He wasn't sure what he would do when he eventually lost her. He was damn sure he would keep her safe from harm, but when he eventually lost her to another man. He hadn't been worried about losing her to McGee. Their relationship was ill-fated from the start and he was glad that it hadn't crashed and burned the way he knew work-place romances could.

But the day she showed up on his door step to introduce him to the love of her life – that would be the day he would lose her. She went on dates all the time, and then never went past a second or third date, so she'd never bothered introducing them to anyone except occasionally Tony when they occasionally hung out in the same circle of NCIS and FBI recruits. He had questioned her once about her date and she had replied with, "Oh Gibbs, you'll be the first to know if I find anyone serious. I'm just out having fun for now."

He took her word for it, and so far he hadn't lost her.

Gibbs hadn't planned on falling asleep, so when he blinked his eyes and suddenly the clock read 06:18 he was surprised. He was still wrapped around Abby, and with her alarm set to go off in 12 minutes, he was glad he got the time to untangle himself from her before she woke up and things got awkward.

He ran a hand over his face and padded barefoot out to her kitchen where he hovered around the coffee maker as it percolated. He was halfway through his first cup, and making two omelets when he heard a jaw-popping yawn from the doorway.

"Coffee is ready and you're making breakfast? I might have to keep you."

Gibbs pointed to the bar top where he'd placed a coffee for her just a few moments before.

"Thanks," Abby slid onto a stool and sipped her coffee quietly until Gibbs pushed a plate towards her.

They ate in silence and Gibbs was glad that she wasn't as chatty first thing in the morning compared to how she usually was. And once the dishes were loaded in the dishwasher (he'd already put the clean ones away), Gibbs collected his stuff and got ready to leave. "Tell DiNozzo he's in charge today unless something major comes up – then you have him call me."

"You're not coming in to work today?"

Gibbs shook his head. "I've got to get home see what needs to be done."

"Oh, okay. Do you need any help with anything? Cleaning up?"

"No, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

His first stop was the hardware store where he picked up new locks and deadbolts for the front and back door as well as a new window locks, and a new latch for the basement window in case anyone had any ideas about climbing in. He did a quick tour of the house, checking that he was alone, and then set about replacing the locks on the door knob before drilling a larger hole for the deadbolt.

He took a break for lunch before working on the window in the basement. And then, with his house secure he began the slow process collecting the splinters of wood that littered the basement floor.

He was just starting to stack the larger pieces when he heard footsteps overhead. There weren't quick enough to be Abby's, or quiet enough to be Ziva's. He could always hear when it was Tony – singing to himself, quoting a movie, or he just plain announced himself, and McGee would never stop by without calling first.

He heard a soft humming when the basement door opened and decided it must be Ducky, so he dropped his hand from the knife he carried on his belt.

"I was having lunch with mother and she told me to bring you some of the pasta salad that her nurse fixed for us and..." Ducky paused halfway down the steps."Good Lord Jethro, what happened here?"

"A little accident."

"I'd say." Ducky continued down. "I saw you've got new locks on your door."

"Apparently I forgot to lock them."

"They do work best that way, though I don't suspect they would keep termites from returning."

Gibbs glanced up at Ducky, giving him a look to drop it.

Ducky, however, avoided his gaze and continued. "Amazing how those little buggers will attack only one source of wood in a home. I suppose you lucked out rather nicely as it was only your boat that they nibbled on, rather extensively, and with a crowbar no less."

"What can I do for you, Duck?"

"I'd like to know what's going on. Abigail said you seemed a bit off and then told me about your termite issue. Seems to me termite is a code for something else. And judging by the new locks on your door…"

Gibbs continued to pick up the large scraps of wood and stack them against the fall wall. When it was clear that Ducky was waiting for him to speak, he straightened up and looked to the older man. "I came home to find my boat smashed," he shrugged as if it weren't a big deal. "I helped it along a little further."

"I presume you have an idea of who it was?"

"No."

"No?"

"I wouldn't have put new locks on my door if I knew who it was."

"No, I suppose not." Ducky picked up a broom and began sweeping the smallest scraps into a pile. "I also take it that you have no plans to tell Abby or the team?"

"I'd appreciate it if you'd keep it to yourself."

"She worries about you."

"I know."

"But I will keep quiet if that's what you want."

"I appreciate it."

"What are you going to do? Any ideas?"

"No." Gibbs stretched his back after bending down for a large piece of wood. "It's not the first time I've made an enemy over a case. They'll make themselves known eventually."

"And let's hope you figure it out before they decide to take a crowbar to you instead of your belongings." Ducky swept the best he could around the larger pieces that were still scattered around the floor and then, sensing his friend had heard enough, Ducky returned the broom to where it had been resting against the wall. As he was just about to open his mouth, he noticed writing on one of boards and saw the letters 'The Abiga-' penciled lightly.

Ah, no wonder there is anger surrounding the demise of an unfinished boat. "Well Jethro, I have a few errands yet to run. There is pasta salad in your fridge."

"Thanks Duck." Gibbs followed him up and walked him to the door.

"You know, these work best when locked." Ducky gestured to the deadbolt and smiled.

"I know. See you tomorrow, thanks for the pasta salad."

"Take care."

Gibbs waited until Ducky was safely in his Morgan before shutting and locking his front door. It didn't take him long to finish cleaning up the basement, the smaller bits of wood taken out to the yard waste, and the larger pieces stacked to be burned in the fire place - no sense in wasting perfectly good wood.

Abby was cranky as she headed home. What had started out to be a perfect day – almost waking up to Gibbs – had gone south. With Gibbs out of the office, the team had ended up catching up on paperwork leaving her with nothing but boring lab work for other teams who were in need of DNA matches. No one was as patient as Gibbs was while waiting for her to explain the results and she had to wait until almost lunch time before Tony had remembered to bring her a Caf-Pow!

The team had invited her out to lunch, but Vance had called her up to MTAC to sit in on a video conference with the LA office. At least she got to say hello to Hetty – everyone else was busy chasing down bad leads. Finally, just before six, she was allowed to go home. Everyone else on the team had left the hour before, and not even Gibbs was there to wish her a good evening or walk her to her car.

Gibbs had made it pretty clear that he didn't need her help in cleaning up, but she wasn't sure she bought his story about termites, which left her to wonder why he had needed a place to stay. She refused to admit to herself that it was possible that he had been lonely, but then it was far from Gibbs to admit he was anything except fine.

Gibbs was fine. Abby smiled to herself as she dropped her keys on the small table just inside her front door. Gibbs was fiiiine.

Her stomach made a small protest and she went directly to the kitchen in search of food. When she pulled open the fridge she stared at a paper grocery bag tucked into the bottom – not recognizing it. When she pulled it open, she found the rest of Gibbs' groceries: milk, cereal, bread, lunch meat, butter.

She wasn't going to stay, she decided as she drove the familiar streets to his house, she was just going to drop off the groceries and leave. That was it.

The lights were on and his car was in the drive when she pulled up outside. She gathered the groceries and headed up the front walk, tucking her keys in her pocket before reaching for the front door. She let out a soft yelp when her hand twisted around the door knob and her wrist hit the door.

The door stood firm and it took a second try before she realized that his door was locked. She couldn't remember a single time, in all the years she had known him that she had showed up and found his door locked.

He had never been worried about keeping people out, but what if, someone had decided to keep him in. She pressed her ear against the door and listened, hoping to hear movement or voices to give her a clue as to why his door was locked. She scanned the streets to see if there was an unfamiliar car, but nothing looked out of the ordinary. She felt panic start to rise in her gut, and she shifted the groceries to the other arm, and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. She hit speed dial for Gibbs' cell and waited while staring at the offending lock. Something wasn't right.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

"Oh my God, are you alright?"

"Abby? I'm fine, why?"

"Your door. It's locked."

"What? Oh, yeah. Are you outside?"

"You never lock your door – oh, do you…" A second thought came to mind. "Do you have a lady friend over?"

The line went dead at the same time as the deadbolt clicked and the door opened. "It's just me here, Abbs."

"I mean, if you need some privacy…" Abby shifted from one foot to the other and avoided his gaze.

"Abby. What's up?" Gibbs stood aside to let her in, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched her frown at the lock as she stepped past.

"You left these in my fridge. I thought you might want them." Abby walked right to the kitchen and put the items away before folding up the paper bag and stowing it away.

"Ah, thanks. You hungry."

"No, it's okay-" Abby was cut off by her stomach sounding a protest.

"Come on, Ducky brought over some pasta salad. I was just about to dish some up. Plenty for the both of us."

"You don't have to feed me all the time."

"Well, if I knew for a fact you would feed yourself." Gibbs elbowed her in the stomach as he dished up their pasta salad.

"I was going to after I dropped the food off."

"Uh huh." Gibbs handed her a bowl.

"You're covered in saw dust, like, more than usual. Everything okay downstairs?"

"Everything is fine." Gibbs watched as her eyes surveyed the room and he knew she could tell something was different.

"Is that wood from the boat?" Abby set her fork down and got up to walk over to the fire place. Beside it was a small stack of perfectly sanded wood from his boat. "Gibbs!" She spun around to face him. "Why are you burning parts of your boat?"

She was at the basement door in a flash, and he didn't have time to stop her before she was headed down the stairs. He stopped at the base of the steps and watched as she turned a small circle in the clear space in the middle of the basement where the boat had been. "What happened…?"

She had helped him sand a few times in the weeks after Ziva made her decision to stay in Israel and then again when she had gone off the grid. It had helped keep her mind off the worst, and Gibbs hadn't minded the company. They hadn't worked on the boat together in while – work having kept the both busy, but she talked about it often. He had hoped to have had the chance to start another one, and get it almost to the point of where she had last seen it. It could've claimed that he had messed up and taken parts of it apart, and she never would've had to know about the original being broken out of rage.

"It wasn't termites, was it." It was more of a statement than a question and they both knew the answer.

"No."

He saw the moment it clicked, and her expression went from sad to angry. "The new lock… Gibbs," she warned and then looked over to the large pile of wood. "You didn't break her either."

"No."

"You lied to me!" A look of hurt washed over her face before anger took its place again. "Gibbs does not lie, not to me. You aren't allowed to lie to me. You can lie to Tony, McGee, or even Ziva but not me!"

"Abby…"

"Someone is after you, Gibbs! Someone was in your house. How could you keep that from me? You could be in danger." She started pacing the basement, tapping her fingers together as she thought of what she could do. "You can't stay here, Gibbs. What if they come back?"

"They won't, they were just trying to scare me, that's all."

"Well I'm scared." She stopped pacing and looked at him, her big green eyes shining in the soft light from the lamp over his work bench.

"Don't be. I don't think they'll be back, but just in case I've put new locks on my doors and I locked them."

"I noticed. Did… did they leave anything behind?"

"A note." Gibbs nodded to where it lay on the bench.

"I might be able to pull a print, or DNA or… or something!" Abby went to the bench and opened a box where she knew Gibbs kept a box of gloves and a few evidence bags. "I'm taking this to the lab, Gibbs and I'll call you the minute I find anything."

"Abby-"

"No, Gibbs. I refuse to back down on this. Too much hinky stuff has been going on around you, and I don't like it."

"I was going to tell you that my print will be on it."

"Oh. Right." She nodded. "Maybe we should call Fornell, maybe he can have an agent keep an eye out again?" Abby thought a moment. "Or maybe you shouldn't stay here; you can come back to my place if you want? It's a secure building, and I'm on the second floor so no one can come in through the window."

"I'll be fine, Abby. You can take this to the lab if you want, I won't stop you, but that's it. I'm fine Abbs, it's not the first time I've made someone unhappy by throwing a dirt-bag in jail." Gibbs slowly edged closer. It was dangerous to be too close to Abby when she was upset, her pig-tails were a weapon if you stood too close and she whipped her head around.

"Promise me you'll at least go over the last few cases if I can't match any prints. Please try to figure out who did this, I… please?"

"Promise." He pulled her into a tight hug, holding a few seconds longer than he planned. "Come on, let's go upstairs and finished the pasta salad. It's actually pretty good."

"No, I've got to get this running. I'll call you if I come up with anything." Abby pulled out of his arms and grabbed the evidence bag before racing up the stairs. "Lock up behind me, Gibbs," she called out as she hit the top step.

TBC…