Thank you all so much for the reviews! I also want to make it clear right now that none of this is mine, except for the idea and Abby's family (her parents really are deaf, though, and she really does have a younger brother, and I didn't know about her mother being named Gloria but oh well too late now). I know I'm forgetting something, so there may be an author's note in the near future of this story. Oh yes, and being 13, I'm not very good with this kind of work, so I'll be making plenty of mistakes. If any of you have any advice, please, I'd love it.

Anyway, third chapter, please enjoy! I got a little stuck on this one, I wasn't sure exactly what to say, but go figure. Please R&R—I promise a new chapter will come faster with more reviews. The most reviews I've ever gotten on a story was 12. Beat that and I might finish this one! Also, I'm kinda busy this week, so don't expect much for a little bit. I was lucky I could write this. I have a history paper, quiz, and outline notes all due tomorrow, none of which I've done. Heehee… Oh, and this was re-uploaded due to a few formatting issues, apparently.

HEADACHE MEDICATIONwas not something Abby could ask for easily in this place.

This was a Navy Yard, and the closest thing they had to a doctor was a trained Medical Examiner and his assistant. He could help when they inhaled toxic gases, or when they got an injury, but a headache was probably not something he dealt with. A diagnosis Ducky could deliver, but not actual medication.

And since she was totally fine, she didn't really feel the need to ask. Why burden someone when it was just a headache? As long as she could still work, it wasn't a problem. Although, being who she was, even if it got in the way of her working, she'd still push on.

It was a week after Abby had delivered the news to her mother, who had since gotten over it. She had received the occasional email—which she made sure the rest of the team never found out about—asking how she was, mentally and physically. It was careful treading with her mother, Abby had discovered. She was kind and sweet and never turned a single soul down, much like Abby, but she was a bit naïve. Obviously, she could let the wrong secrets out at the wrong times. Abby had since reprimanded her for that, and she promised to say as quiet as possible.

Abby groaned, leaning forward onto her desk and putting her hand to her head. She wasn't wearing gloves, and it was easy enough to feel the thrumming and pounding of a headache that would most certainly get worse. Why the hell would Ducky have headache medication, of all things? It wasn't like the majority of patients he saw would ever need it…

The scientist had to chuckle at the idea of a corpse sitting up and asking Ducky for headache medication. Though he claimed that the dead bodies talked, and Abby could definitely see his point (and she herself had even admitted to chatting with one of them on a previous case). They revealed clues that otherwise the agents might have never discovered. Chris Pucci, one of their fellow agents, who had been murdered while investigating a cold case, had swallowed a memory chip when he knew he was dying. It was because he knew he was going to end up on Ducky's autopsy table, and he knew that he was most definitely going to find it. It was very clever thinking. Something Abby could be devoid of at times.

After an hour or so of focused working, Abby felt herself collapsing. One brief break from her work and her head was throbbing and all she could do was groan. One too many Caf-Pows was most definitely a possibility. It definitely wasn't an unknown condition to her. Usually, Gibbs would just let her go home and rest it off, like a hangover. But she hadn't felt a migraine this bad since New Year's—in her senior year of college. If only they had an actual doctor here.

Well, not an actual doctor, that's not what I meant, Abby chided herself. I mean one of those doctors that gives you medicine and stuff. And shots. Eww, I hate shots, except blood tests. You get to see all the red blood go up that little tube from your bare skin…

She was even babbling in her mind in a thin stream of consciousness. It was almost as if she were in another world, but when she came back, her forehead was pressed against the cool desk in a vain attempt to relieve herself of the pain. It didn't work, instead, she felt herself pulled towards sleep, something she had never done in the lab. Then again, time was a foreign concept down there. It was like a cave, except for the small window that didn't shed much light on time, literally. It was barely noticeable if it was sunny, because the lab was actually underground and the window was covered with trees and bushes.

The outside life by her window grew so thickly at times that it was impossible to judge the weather—or time—outside at all. This was one of those times as Abby turned her head to check. Sighing, deciding she should give in and take a break, she managed to stand up. Her head felt like it was a giant brick, heavy and unstable, but she managed. Once she stabilized herself, she strode out of the lab and into the elevator, afraid she'd fall if she took the stairs.

Once in the bullpen, she realized it was bright. It couldn't be later than 2 pm. No way was she giving into "military time." It was just too difficult to understand (Only because I can't! Sorry, Abbs!). McGee looked up at her as the elevator opened and she plopped down in Gibbs' chair, only to end up aggravating her migraine, but she gave no hint.

"They just got called out on a report of a dead marine," McGee informed simply, pushing his chair back to get a better look at her. "I haven't seen you all day."

"I came in really early," Abby explained, yawning on cue as if to emphasize her point, and then gave McGee a sly smile. At least he was able to take her mind off of… well… her mind.

"I can see that," McGee offered, pushing himself back to his computer as he furiously typed in a chain of commands. "Why don't you take a nap while they're out?"

"But what if Gibbs finds out?" Abby pushed, unwilling to push Gibbs himself.

"I don't think he'll mind," McGee mumbled. Abby was Gibbs' favorite. Anyone at NCIS could tell you that without a slight hesitation. If she was tired and overworked, there would be nothing keeping her from falling asleep in Gibbs chair. What he'd most likely do would be to give her one stern look and then pull up a chair next to her and continue working.

"Besides, Ducky won't find you either," McGee grinned, noting as how Ducky and Jimmy were both away investigating the scene. Before he could give another reason why she could fall asleep, she was out, her arms folded on one of the arms of the chair and her head resting comfortably. Sleep seemed to take her easily, as if it had been waiting for her for a while now.

Too bad McGee failed to notice the telltale sign.

Hours later, Abby was actually woken up by Gibbs himself, who was barely raising an eyebrow to her as he looked down at her. The chair whirled around as she tried to meet him, stumbling in surprise as her headache came back to greet her.

"Gibbs!" she called, standing up abruptly and even tripping a bit before catching herself. "Welcome back!"

He didn't say anything in response, instead sat down at his desk as he pushed to find out as much about the dead marine as possible. "Abbs," he said after he got comfortable. "Ducky recovered some evidence," he said, handing Abby a handful of little plastic bags with various things in them.

"Yes sir, Agent Gibbs sir!" she said, accidentally saluting him with the wrong hand as she ran off in direction of the elevators again. Gibbs shook his head at the enthusiastic forensic scientist with a small smile playing across his lips. Tony and Ziva just watched her go briefly before delving back into their work, not wanting a head slap from Gibbs to "get them back on track."

The elevator seemed to take longer than usual to get downstairs, but as Abby glanced at the clock recently installed above the doors, it was a perfectly normal time. Of course only Abby would know that. She got bored when the clock was installed and checked every floor, seeing how many seconds it would take for the elevator to reach each one undisturbed. And then took the liberty of measuring the time when a certain amount of people got in at a certain floor and then out another. With a million possible theories, Abby had given up the more complicated ones a few days ago, settling for the discovery she already had.

If that clock was correct, it took precisely 17 seconds for the elevator to go from the bullpen down to her lab, undisturbed.

"Seventeen," Abby counted as the elevator door dinged and slid open for her. She smiled triumphantly as she opened her lab door.

Once a few steps in, she froze in her tracks. Her eyes stayed glued to the floor for a moment before sliding up, taking in her lab, every detail of it. Her blood turned to ice and she barely felt the evidence bags sliding from her fingers as her green eyes widened. Shock was registering on her face, numbing any other possible feelings.

Once she took in the worst bit, she heard a pent up scream coming from none other than herself, but it seemed foreign, far away, and way too scared.

"Well, Mr. Palmer," Ducky consulted his assistant as they wheeled the new body down into Autopsy. "Looks like we have another poor victim," he sighed wistfully. "These days, I'm beginning to feel somewhat relieved that Gibbs left the army," he said softly as Jimmy looked up at him with interest.

"I'm sure he made some force to be reckoned with," Jimmy chuckled softly, catching the end of the table as it nearly collided with the corner of a wall. It caught Ducky's attention, who turned to look back at him.

"Careful, Mr. Palmer, couldn't have—what?" Ducky consulted as he saw a shocked expression settle onto Jimmy's face once they entered the autopsy room. Well, at first shocked, but then melted into one of pure confusion as he stumbled to find the correct words. "Whatever is the matter, Mr. Palmer?"

Finally, Jimmy gulped and managed to find a question to ask. "Was someone expected to visit the autopsy room today?"

"No, why?" Ducky was about to ask, but then turned around and realized what Jimmy had been gaping at.

A trail of blood led up to the revealed body of Sean Sciuto, cold and dead. He was the only body visible at the moment; the other's locked up securely. However, the door to his case had been obviously tampered with, dented and scraped. There was a gaping hole made not-so-neatly in the spot where his left arm connected to his body. There was plenty of blood; on the floors, on the table.

"Mr. Palmer, call Gibbs immediately," Ducky ordered, his voice laced with shock and betrayal. He knew for a fact nobody at NCIS that had possible access to the autopsy room had not been here while he was out investigating. Besides, even if it was someone on the inside, the door had been broken through with what looked like a hammer of some sort.

Someone had broken in.

Jimmy was panting somewhat heavily as he waited anxiously for the phone to stop ringing. It seemed an eternity before he heard a stern, "Gibbs."

"Agent Gibbs!" Jimmy rushed, unable to give the full title, but giving just the proper respect.

"Is something wrong, Jimmy?" Gibbs questioned, obviously hearing the panic in the young man's voice.

"U-um," he stumbled, but managed to swallow as he looked back at a shocked Dr. Mallard and a bloody trail. He found his breath and continued. "Someone broke into the autopsy room."

"What did they take?" Gibbs asked calmly. Jimmy could hear him abruptly stand up and in the background could hear orders being directed at the three agents with him to go and investigate. Jimmy continued fretfully.

"Um, well… I'm not sure exactly… but…"

"Spit it out!" Gibbs snapped roughly.

"It looks like they took a blood sample from Mr. Sciuto…" Jimmy trailed off, unsure of what conclusion to draw. Had someone been in a rush, unable to call in? Or was this a crime of some sort? This was not his area of expertise, obviously.

Yet again, too bad the correlation never occurred to him.

Before either of them could talk, or before Jimmy could hear the elevator, he was sure all six of them—the four agents and the two medical examiners—could hear the undeniable scream of Ms. Abigail Sciuto, something none of them had heard in years. It was reserved for what you could say would be only the most special of cases.

"Abigail?" Ducky managed to say with recognition behind his expression, before glancing up concernedly at Jimmy. Before he knew it he heard Gibbs drop the phone and he did too, making a bolt for the door, with Dr. Mallard trailing just behind him. For a man of his age, he certainly could keep pace.

Less than a minute later they were all crowding into Abby's lab, all standing behind her frozen body, her hands trembling at her sides and her gaze locked in place somewhere. In fact, her whole body was shaking.

"Abbs? Abby?" Gibbs asked worriedly behind her, taking his place next to her along with McGee, Tony, and Ziva.

"What's wr—" McGee was about to ask, but he felt his voice catch in his throat.

It had taken all of them a moment to notice the faint blood trail from autopsy leading into Abby's lab. It led across the lab to the wall directly in front of them. There were glass shards littering the floor, some covered in spots of blood.

However, the most frightening part was written plainly on the wall. In big blocky, obviously red, letters, a rather vague message wrote,

I'M COMING, ABIGAIL SCIUTO.

The correlation, the obvious hint in front of their noses, never occurred to any of them, except for maybe a pale, sickened, on the verge of collapsing Abigail Sciuto.