Tim was not sure which question to ask next. Sarah was not sitting on the floor looking at him with eyes full of questions and doubts. He noticed the clock: 5:30 a.m. Fuck.

"Tim, I love you. I'm sorry. Can I talk about this more later? I didn't think I was going to be able to say that much to you and I need to regroup." He shook his head in agreement. He wasn't sure how many confessions he could take from her at the moment. Without any more words he helped Sarah up and gave her another big hug. He escorted her into the office/game room in the back of the apartment and sat her on the plush couch that sat in front of the Panasonic flat screen. He tucked her onto the couch with a comforter and extra pillows from Abby's bed. A water bottle and two aspirin were pushed into her hands as he made sure the black out curtains were closed.

"Sleep. We'll talk later." He said as cordially as he could with the oppression of sleeplessness cloaking his words.

"Ok. Tim?"

"Yea."

"I love you." She had sounded so young and scared.

"I love you too. Sleep." He turned out the light.

"Tim?"

"Yea."

"Can you leave the light on?" That was a surprise. She'd slept in the complete dark before he had. Tim wondered back into the room and turned on a standing lamp in the corner. The light was very soft. 'Mood lighting?' He wondered.

"Ok?"

"Ok. Night." She barely finished the word. He set the slightly consumed water bottle on the floor beside her and kissed her forehead.

Entering Abby's room had always been a trip for Tim. The room was gray. It was a nasty, slate grey, a shade one might find in a prison or an asylum. The blackout curtains were elaborate. Red velvet curtains pooled in her floor and large black rope hung off to the side, ready to tie them back. He'd never seen them open. Her large four-posted, black bed took up most of the room. He almost remembered her saying something about the two of them redecorating the room. Or was that her making him a slave to her redecorating? His ability for coherent all-nighters after that much emotional turmoil was definitely fading the further he got from his teens…and his RPGs. His stomach sunk as he gently lifted her shirt and saw the blood soaked bandages covering her side. He knew he should have made her go to the hospital last night. Well, no time like the present.

"Abby," he whispered to her. No movement. He shook her shoulder gently. He heard her groan turn into a moan.

"Good God McGee, what happened?" she muttered. Her throat was dry and scratchy and she instantly wondered if she'd fallen asleep with her mouth open, as if that was the root of all her problems at the moment.

"You got into something last night and came back injured."

"Are we in a hospital?" she asked alarmed. Tim's eyebrows rose but he was too burnt out to really process the reaction.

"No. You're at home. We are going to a hospital now."

"Wait," she grabbed his hand, "let's not. It's too risky." He looked at her blood soaked bandages and tried to remove them to see the wound. She grabbed his hand again.

"Wait. That's…I don't want you to see that. Let's go to work." Her eyes had conveniently found a loose string on her comforter to stare at while his glare worked her over.

"Abby. I love you, you're going to kill me, but we are going to the hospital."

"Please, please baby." She didn't use pet names with him often. Not too seriously. It had been a habit she'd gotten into so that they wouldn't be too obvious, or obnoxious, at work. She also didn't plead seriously, sure in the bedroom, sure when she wanted to do something he wasn't quite sure about; of course whenever Gibbs didn't want to give into her; but never for anything important. She was proud, her Southern roots made sure of that. Tim bit down on his lip so hard he drew blood. He really did not want to be upset with her right now, but she was just ripping the last of his patience into nasty shreds. Abby glanced into his face and placed her left arm on his cheek. He yielded to her as she pulled his head down and she kissed the blood from his trembling lip. Her tongue did not leave the spot until she knew it had stopped bleeding, then she kissed his cheek.

"Please trust me. I know this is hard on us right now, especially on you. You probably don't trust me and if I were in your position I would feel the same, even though I would probably try to deny the feeling." She winked at him and he rested his forehead on her shoulder.

"Ok. I will not just leave you here though, and if you don't want Gibbs all over us, one of us should go in." Despite the wound throbbing in her side she shuddered at his breath on her neck. Maybe that was the slight fever trying to develop.

"You're a little warm," he commented as he felt behind her ears and her forehead. No, definitely McGee.

"You're not so bad yourself, "she smiled. He gently chuckled in her ear and rose from the bed.

"So what is your plan, great leader?" He asked. A gentle sigh blew through the room.

"Maybe, Ducky…"

"Just know that if you are at work Gibbs will see you and he will find out what happened. He is not as calm as I am," he said as he helped her ease herself into a make shift sitting position. She fell to her better side a few times in order to alleviate the pain in her right.

"Fuck, what was I thinking! I am so stupid!" she moaned into the bed. He stroked her back and let her scream for another moment. They finally got her into a sitting position and her face had a fine sheen of sweat to show for it. Tim shook his head.

"I'm taking you to a hospital. Ducky doesn't have prescription drugs at his beck and call and you need an antibiotic to make sure you don't develop an infection. You also need pain…"

"I'm not allowed to have pain pills unless I'm dying," she interrupted. His left eyebrow rose in question.

"Since when do you have restrictions on anything you do?" She shook her head.

"It's rare and varied. What am I wearing to work today?"

"You aren't really going to try and work, are you? It took us ten minutes to sit you up and you're already leaning over again," he commented as he helped ease her back into the slightly lopsided position. A lone tear slid down her face.

"I don't know what to do anymore. I can't…can't do anything right and whatever I touch just…I don't McGee. I can't think anymore." Tim's heart broke a little more at her pain. His loving arms held tight around her shoulders while she lazily rested her head on his shoulder.

"Where's Sarah?"

"Asleep in the game room. How did you know she was here?"

"I told her on Monday that if she hadn't spoken to you and explained the situation by today, that I would have to tell you and then I would make her come and talk to you." He smiled. She clenched in pain and decided that she was probably needlessly torturing herself, but on more levels than she liked to admit, thought that she'd deserved the pain. She pushed that thought as far away from her mind as she could; that could be dealt with later.

"Ducky will come here, but you have to promise me that if he thinks you need more than his medical attention, you will go to the hospital-no arguments." Tim had slid himself off the bed and was trying to ease her back under the covers. Her lack of resistance had him more worried than he acted.

"All right. That's fine," she was already drifting back to sleep. He couldn't imagine how; when he was in any kind of pain he couldn't sleep unless he was drugged. A gentle, promising kiss was placed on her lips as he left the apartment for work.

In the car, McGee had dialed Ducky at home and after promising him a very large favour in the future, they agreed to keep the situation as hushed as they could. That task done, McGee dialed their favorite pizza place and left a message to deliver a pizza at 12:30 to Abby's address.

He arrived at work before he knew it and began to question his ability to be productive at work immediately. He really needed a pansy coffee drink; something that took longer to say than to make. He noticed the clock and instead of driving away to Starbucks, he hurried toward his office.

"You're late McGeek," DiNozzo started as soon as he rushed in and sat at his desk.

"Just because you arrived before I did, does not make me late," he answered just as quickly. DiNozzo looked up at his junior agent.

"You ok McGoo?" Tim closed his eyes. For some reason, the idea that he looked like crap and people might call him out on it had not really crossed his sleep addled brain. He shook his head.

"Yea, sorry, just a long night?"

"Girlfriend ran outta ink?" Tim's mind played the "keyword game." Ink for tattoos? Ink for writing? Quills? Sadism? Sand…

"Probie!"

"What?" he answered hazily. Maybe Abby was rubbing off on him in the wrong ways too.

"Did you sleep at all last night? What were you doing?" Tim blinked a few times. He also hadn't gotten as far as a cover-up story. Where was Abby when you needed a quick story?

"I was going over some things on the case and I fell asleep at my desk. It was a really terrible position." That sounded plausible. DiNozzo agreed.

"Poor Probie. When will you learn to keep the office at the office?" he shook his head in mock rebuke.

"What are we doing right now? Where's Gibbs?"

"Well, I am working. You are talking to me. Gibbs is up with the Director." Tim was relieved that he wasn't in autopsy. Usually his round to autopsy included a visit to the lab. He really needed a few minutes to sort everything out. He wasn't going to lie to his teammates; he just wanted to hold off their inevitable abilities at getting in each other's business as long as possible.

"Right. I'll just…" his comment tapered off and he began to reanalyze his work from last night and get it ready to present. He also sent an e-mail to resources, so they could send a few lab techs to take over for Abby for the day. Notes prepared, he started a search on the rest of the information he'd pulled from the palm-pilot. He traced his bank account, credit cards, and most importantly, cross referenced all the contacts in the phone with their records. Maybe a name and i.d. would sound familiar to a witness or two. Soon after he'd set a few searches going, he heard Gibbs reenter the office.

"DiNozzo quit talking dirty to your cell phone and tell me how Petty Officer Jeffries managed to hide the rest of that heroin after he died "naturally." A "where" would be nice too." DiNozzo hastily hung up on his bed mate from two days earlier.

"Ah, that dentist, such a talker." Gibbs rolled his eyes and began another brainstorming session on the case.

"Jeffries…" McGee thought he was listening. He knew Gibbs was talking and was very aware that he was explaining something important, but he was so wrapped up in trying to get his loose ends together that he missed the whole segment on new developments in the case and Gibbs trying to get the information he'd gathered together. A smack to the back of his head brought him out of his reverie rather quickly. It also woke the grumpy side that he tried to keep out of the office on most days. This was not one. A long sigh rolled out of his mouth and he slowly turned to his boss and team mate.

"Sorry, I'm a little out of it. Where were we?" Gibbs gave him a hard glare, but instead of dwelling on the moment he continued with the case. Try as he might, McGee could not pay attention to the conversation. His brain jumped to Abby and his sister at every lull and dip in the conversation. He was alert enough to put in some input every now and again and argue with DiNozzo, but his brain was a mess. This was an unusual dilemma for Timothy McGee the Focused. Somewhere during the campfire, Agent David made an appearance.

"Whadya got for me David?"

"The agent in charge of Jeffries' record was working with Jeffries to traffic heroin and people into the country."

"Finally, somebody did something to get a paycheck!" McGee nodded as Gibbs reissued his orders. DiNozzo and David went to visit Lina Morales, the woman that claimed to be Jeffries' sister. They now suspected her of being a drug mule. McGee was to verify the plane roster of Jeffries last six trips to Puerto Rico and…he really wasn't sure. He knew he'd figure it out as soon as he got some kind of confirmation on Abby. He quickly gathered his things and went to the closest convenience store for a Caf-Pow and some air.

*************************************

The sound of breaking glass dragged her out of another dream about her best friend's whereabouts. Sarah rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and drowsily sat up on the plush couch. The light in the room was comforting, but the sound of crunching glass and a rapid intake of breath quickened her pulse and disturbed her to no end. She jumped from the couch and bolted out to find the problem. Her first stop was Abby's room. To her dismay she did not find her friend but did find a few droplets of blood on the carpet and a larger blood stain on the sheets.

"Shit," she muttered, "Abby!" She raced into the bathroom and almost tripped over the long body in the floor.

"Abby! What happened? Are you ok?" Sarah had knelt by the woman's side and was trying to move her from the floor.

"Stop! Get out, there's broken glass on the floor. You're going to hurt yourself." Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Abby, you are unbelievable! Can you move?"

"Yea, just move," Abby answered tiredly. She tried to make herself sit up but her side would have none of it. She dropped her head back to the floor. Sarah's face appeared before her eyes and she blinked to focus on the young woman. Unshed tears glistened in Sarah's hazel eyes. She searched for a way to keep on the situation at hand but not harass her with questions.

"What broke?" Abby had not expected that.

"The picture frame on the wall. I lost my balance, grabbed the wrong piece of wall. Watch your feet," she said as Sarah's foot stretched into the floor.

"Go put shoes on or something."

"No, I'm not leaving you here."

Sarah I am not moving. Just…" she thought she heard a light rapping on the door. Sarah opened her mouth to speak but Abby's slight hush silenced here. There was a more definite knocking on the front door and Abby was sure she knew who it was.

"What?" Sarah asked, alert and nervous.

"The front door. Go let Ducky in, please." Sarah had no idea how Abby had heard the front door all the way in the master bath at the back of the apartment, but she went to the front door to investigate anyway. To her slight surprise she did see Ducky through the peephole.

"Ducky! I'm so glad you're here! She fell in the bathroom and I'm afraid to move her…" Ducky moved quickly to follow Sarah's pace to the bathroom.

"Abigail, my dear, what have you done to yourself now," he began as he entered the bedroom.

"Ducky! Are you wearing shoes?" He stopped mid-step.

"Yes, of course."

"Good there's glass. Don't let Sarah in here without shoes." Sarah nearly screamed at her. How could she be so preoccupied with the well being of her feet when she had a stab wound and unidentifiable glass damage to her body? Ducky smiled and inwardly sighed. He had never met one such as his dear Abigail.

"Sarah, could you do me a favor and wait outside of the restroom please? I may need you in a moment." She shook her rapidly.

"Not without shoes!" Abby said with as much force as she could muster. It sounded pitiful even in her own ears.

"Ok, ok don't worry. I'm getting shoes now," Sarah replied as soothingly as possible. Ducky nodded gratefully at her, then moved into the bathroom, careful to not step on Abby or the bits of glass everywhere.

"What happened? Where are you injured?"

"Ah, just now or last night?" she evaded. The throbbing in her side turned sharp for a moment and she took that as a sign to stop denying the help she was being offered and try to get herself well.

"Both. What is hurting the most?" She could hear the tension in his voice as he was fighting keep his self calm and collected.

Ducky had only really seen Abigail injured a few times. Each time he saw her wounded, a pain wrapped his heart, and he was upset for days afterward. For him, it almost seemed unethical for Abby to be hurt; a cosmic conundrum. She was his fresh perspective, partner is scientific crime, and most importantly, the daughter he'd never had. If she was hurt, so was he. He shook his head to clear it of such thoughts, and gently started to check her head for injuries.

"Just now, I was trying to get to the bathroom and I had a wave of vertigo and knocked the picture off when I toppled over. This is so embarrassing. I'm sorry Ducky; you have so many things to do right now and…"

"Hush, Abigail. If I didn't want to be here, I would not be here. Did you cut yourself on the glass?"

"I think maybe on my hand and my foot. My body is a little numb with other pains." She closed her eyes in mortification. How did she keep getting into this shit?

"Where are these other pains?"

"My side. I…there was…it was an accident. I was stabbed." Ducky paled.

"And you didn't go to a hospital? What were you thinking!" he moved quickly to find the wound and swallowed when he saw the blood soaked bandages.

"I had a friend do a little field dressing to make sure I didn't keel over. It's not too bad…"
"I'll be the judge of that, young lady." She quieted, her energy waning as she laid on the cold tile. Her submission alerted him to her condition more than the nasty bandages and the blood which was now pooling at her side without the covering. A few curses, for Ducky at least, were released as he looked at the chop-shop job the person did at stitching her side.

"This might be deeper than you think Abigail. I need to know what you were stabbed with, when, what you've taken, and what the idiot who touched this, did to you! Now!" Abby blinked the haze out of her eyes. Ducky was really upset. Why was she so out of it? It really was cold on the floor.

"Abigail?" His voice was slightly frantic. If she lost consciousness he was going to have to act fast.

"I'm sorry Ducky. What?" She tried to wake herself up but her body was rejecting her. She was freezing and everything felt heavy.

"Who stitched you up?" If he kept it short she might stay with him.

"One of my tattoo friends. He does some stuff on the s-side."

"What are you feeling right now Abigail? Answer."

"Cold. Tired. Stuck." He sighed in frustration. Why hadn't she gone to a hospital last night?

"Sarah, bring me towels please." Sarah had been waiting impatiently outside of the door. A stack of towels appeared before him in a matter of moments.

"More?" she asked frantically.

"Maybe, tuck one under her head, and tuck the rest next to her. Do not put the towels across her body yet." She worked quietly.

"What did you and he do about this wound?"

"Max did a little stitching. He put the bandages on it." Ducky had soaked enough of the bleeding to see the stitching more clearly. It was definitely a sloppy, field dressing that wouldn't have passed in any circle.

"Did you rip a stitch?" She blinked back her unconsciousness.

"What?"

"Did you reopen the wound?"

"Um, I think I did rip one open. I didn't have the tools to sew it back, so I just shoved some peroxide and cotton over it. I put more bandages." Ducky shook his head in frustration and shock. He looked into her bright emeralds.

"I'm sorry dear, this is going to hurt."

***********************************

Aghhh, who thought summer classes were a good idea? They are horrible!!! Blah, it's over this week though! Yea! Maybe after that I can finish this thing! Thank you for the wonderful reviews!