It was getting late and the rain had started up again. The dark and drizzly night seemed at odds with the bright lights and bustle of activity in Abby's lab. McGee watched mesmerized as Abby ran from one machine to the other, trying to keep every analysis plate spinning. Pieces of green handbag lay scattered over the benches. He allowed his tired eyes an extra long blink. It didn't matter how long he had slept in that hospital, his body was craving rest. He folded his arms on the desk and rested his head on them.

"And we have a winner!"

McGee's head popped up, "which means?"

"There was residue of the drug all over the inside of her handbag."

"Is that a crime?"

"Well, yes," Abby considered thoughtfully, "but that's not actually the point. There was also residue on the outside of the bag, spread from a point."

"The injection site," McGee concluded.

He was pleased, firstly because they finally had something that constituted the word 'evidence' and secondly because his brain seemed to have rejoined the party.

Another machine called impatiently for Abby and she skipped off happily.

"And we have a DNA match from inside the bag!"

McGee rose from his stool to get a better look at the screen, "P.O. Dorgon's?"

"Nope."

"Then?"

Abby spun to look at him. "Yours."

"What?"

"To be specific, half of yours."

"What?" OK, re-examination of brain status.

"At least you had safe sex with your childhood sweetheart."

"She's not my…what? How?"

"My guess is she stored a condom in there."

McGee sat heavily; this whole thing was making him dizzy. He rested his elbows on the bench, closed his eyes and rubbed the tips of his fingers across his sweat-slippery temples. He paused his massaging and squeezed his eyes shut tightly in frustration. Without warning, an image confronted him: fingernails in delicate places, questions, pleasure,…ecstasy

Shocked, he opened his eyes and raised his head slowly until his gaze was level with Abby's.

"How dare she!" He was vibrating with rage. "She broke into my apartment, she drugged me and she interrogated me! It's… it's violation. How could she do that?"

"Wow, Gibbs has got to learn that technique."

Something approaching pure anger shot from McGee taking Abby aback. He closed his eyes for a moment to collect his emotions and force himself to think on a more rational level. When he opened them again, he saw Abby staring at him like a startled rabbit.

His countenance softened immediately and his licked his lips as he tried to think of someway to apologise. He tracked her movement towards him with his body until she reached out gently and put her arms around his neck. Winding his arms around her waist, he soaked up her warmth, marvelling at how comforting affectionate, well intentioned physical contact could be. She pulled away from him a little and he frowned thoughtfully at her.

"What did I say to her?" He mused, "Dammit, I can't remember."

He looked up at Abby abruptly, "We have to talk to Gibbs."

"No," said Gibbs firmly.

"But…"

"No."

"When Boss?" It hadn't meant to come out as an act of defiance but he knew he could do this and the Boss seemed hell bent on stopping him.

Gibbs paused, sizing him up.

"I can do this Boss. I don't care if she was the object of an adolescent crush, she killed someone and she interrogated me under duress. She drugged me! I can nail her."

"I thought you already..."

McGee silenced Tony with a glare and returned his attention to Gibbs.

Gibbs was unmoving but his eyes betrayed the battle within. There was a time when everyone had to confront their fallen idols and this was McGee's.

"OK," he said in a quiet calculating voice.

Gibbs sat back thoughtfully in a chair in the observation room with his arms crossed loosely across his chest. He watched as the young woman in the interrogation room shuffled nervously in her seat. At his side, Ziva and Tony stood silently. The door to the interrogation room creaked open and McGee popped his head in.

"Jen," he whispered quietly.

"Roll," said Gibbs.

"Tim?"

"Yeah, hi." He looked up the corridor and then slid into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Gibbs has been called up to the director's office so I thought I'd sneak in and see how you're doing."

"Not good," she admitted, "where is my handbag?"

"Ah, probably still being tested?"

"For what?"

"You know, fingerprints and stuff."

Gibbs sighed: fingerprints? He didn't even have gloves on when he took the bag. McGee better have more than this or he was going to think he was just in there for a final fling.

McGee snuck around to the other side of the table and sat opposite her.

"I couldn't believe it when I saw you next to a roller coaster after all these years," he began conversationally.

She gave a brief warm, if slightly suspicious smile.

"Last time you were with Sarah and my mother made me go on with you."

Her smile was more relaxed, "I see you still throw up."

He shrugged, "I stay away from them as much as possible. You used to love them though," he reminded her, "You used to throw your hands up and scream. But you.."

"Never closed my eyes," they said in unison.

She laughed a little.

"Even on that one? It was higher than anything we ever had, I'm sure."

"Oh you never saw how high any of them were," she pointed out, "But yes that one is huge and no, I didn't."

"Sarah used to love them too."

"Oh. Yeah."

"Do still keep in contact?"

"Oh yes! I rang her only a couple of days…"

"To get my address?" there was an uneasy tinge to his tone.

"Yes," she faltered, "so I could look you up after all this is over."

"So you've never seen my place?"

She was getting wary, "No but Sarah told me all about it."

"So there should be none of your fingerprints at my place then?"

She paused, "No"

"I remember, Jen," now there was a hard, bitter edge to his voice. "I remember how you never closed your eyes on a roller coaster, how you never let your nails get scratched and I remember last night."

"All of it?"

"All of it."

"Did you like it?"

He fought back the rage bubbling dangerously close to the surface. In the observation room, Gibbs leaned forward in his seat, resting his forearms on his knees. "Steady," he muttered.

"We know you hid the syringe in your bag, we know you injected P.O. Dorgon when you put the bag on his lap and the bar came down: the drug residue is on both sides of your bag." He worked hard to control his emotions; vengeance was going to be served stony cold. "We have your nail polish on the underside of the bar from where you wrenched the bag out. He was a good man, Jen, a sailor, a family man.."

"A family man!" She shrieked. "He had a new girl every time he was in port. He was a drug pusher. Do you know how many girls overdosed because he started them?"

"So you stopped him?"

In the observation room, a small smile hung on Gibbs' lips.

"It's not what you think."

"What that you're a psychotic drug-totting prostitute?"

"Close," she smiled gently for a moment and reached into her bra cup. The three agents in the observation room bounced up like jack-in-boxes rocking with anticipation.

She flipped a police badge on the table.

"Don't blow it," she said sternly.

McGee looked from the badge to her face.

"Why me?" He just had to know.

"I had to ascertain how much NCIS knew. This has been a long operation." She said matter-of-factly.

She said it so casually; it was hard to believe she was talking about the same incident that was still searing his mind. He noted that she now sported a business-like attitude which paradoxically reminded him of the old Jen he knew. Perhaps more mature, more calculating. He drew himself back to the matter at hand.

"You killed him?" he asked matter-of-factly.

"Someone had to," she said quietly.

"No," he said finally, "they didn't."

He stood from the table and took a long look at the observation window. Then he turned and headed wordlessly for the door.

"Let's go get her," said Gibbs quietly.

--END--