"Abby, you have an obligation," Ziva patted the young woman's arm comfortingly. In response, Abby averted her green gaze and sighed softly, leaning back against the stairs. At least she had that for cover.

Since her terrible migraine the previous day, she hadn't mentioned to anyone about it, once it had disappeared. She figured it was from lack of sleep, or too many Caf-Pows. Which might have proven to be very true, but she hadn't investigated yet.

"Abby," Ziva called softly, shaking her shoulder gently. It didn't seem very successful calling her back to earth on the outside, but on the inside, she wasn't coming in peace, to say the least. Her head swam with billions of little fish that just kept on nagging her, and she felt a strange, sort of light headed feeling. The world would fizz before her for a moment before disappearing. It had occurred to her that maybe she should pay attention to her own condition, but of course, she put everyone else first. They were all working hard, the last thing they need to be burdened with was a little fever she had picked up. There were definitely much worse things.

Even if it was worse, she would do everything in her power to keep her "adopted family" from getting involved. The last thing she wanted on her conscience was their blood. In fact, she'd never forgive herself if they were hurt protecting or helping her in any way. Even though it was unlikely, there was a chance, and definitely a risk that Abby didn't want to run.

"Yeah…" Abby found herself saying, taking a deep breath to steady herself as best as possible. Ziva blamed it on nerves. Anyone would be nervous as hell in Abby's place, and though Ziva would have most surely been too, she didn't show it.

"Come on," Ziva smiled reassuringly, taking Abby's arm and helping her up the stairs. This common action relieved Abby—Ziva might have realized something suspicious when she couldn't keep her balance. At least she'd be sitting down where she was going. Too bad it was up, and not down to her lab, where she'd definitely be more comfortable. Then again, they were probably concerned. Her lab had become a crime scene, literally overnight.

After the cryptic message, painted in blood, had been found in her lab along with broken glass shards, Gibbs had called out some orders, none of which she had paid attention to. Truth be told, she barely remembered anything from the previous day. It all kind of just fuzzed out, but maybe she'd remember later, when she was feeling a little more stable. Until then, she could go through a day of life or so with discomfort. Anyhow, nobody was allowed into her lab at the moment, and she had been relieved from work temporarily, due to obvious reasons. However, she hadn't been able to keep herself away, so she came to work anyway to help out where she could. As it turned out, they definitely expected that of her, but not in the way she had wanted to offer her assistance.

It seems Abby had blinked out of consciousness for a moment, because next thing she knew she was trying to step up onto an invisible step, and ended up tripping forward before catching herself. Just in time too, because Ziva turned around to look at her, and when she smiled innocently, Ziva gave her another reassuring look before heading off in the direction of the interrogation room.

Next thing she knew she was sitting in a cold plastic chair, in front of a boring gray table, in a boring gray room, facing a boring piece of glass that she knew people were watching through. She felt as if she were being violated, even. Time to herself was something she enjoyed, and being alone in this room should have amused her. Instead, it disturbed her, much like Gibbs' "gut." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and the world tipped to the side, wavering like the waves of the ocean themselves. Somehow, by some miracle, she was able to stay upright with just a bit of swaying, which could have been obviously overlooked. Nobody would notice, would they?

At least nobody was up close and personal here, sitting across from the table and pushing answers out of her she was reluctant to give. Trying to keep herself busy and focused, she started fiddling with her hands again, a habit she had picked up ever since her brother was murdered a little over a week ago. It still seemed surreal to her, but it was life. It happened, as unlikely as it was.

The most unlikely part was that someone—he—had found her. That wasn't possible, was it? To Annabelle, it was completely. It was a reality she had been prepared to face, one that Abby knew was tearing her apart inside, but she didn't let it show. Annabelle was a strong woman when need be, and instead comforted the people around her instead of herself. That's exactly where Abby picked up her trait of putting other people in front of herself. In an extreme situation she'd rather not think about, if it was her life or any one of theirs, they'd be attending her funeral. It's like one of those games kids thought of when they were little.

As disturbing as it was to picture it, Abby knew the reality. Kids always made up little trivial games. "If this person and this person were in some sort of danger, who would you save?" Of course, you just filled in the variables. Abby had heard tales of volcanoes, shark-filled tanks, acids, etc. They were all terrible realities, and sometimes Abby couldn't stand to see how kids did it. Or, better yet, why they did it. Who would even want to imagine something like that?

Especially when it was sadly and completely real?

Abby had to shift in her seat again, extremely uncomfortable. The silence was aggravating her, and she wished they'd say something to her. Even if it was just a single word. Sitting here waiting was painful to her, and especially with her current condition. The silence felt as if it were enveloping her like a great blanket, closing in on her and keeping her wrapped up. The dizziness intensified and she felt nauseous as everything started to blur.

Outside the interrogation room, observing from the outside, was Tony, McGee, and Ziva, and only them. They watched with varying looks of concern as the hyper-active woman they knew managed to stay quiet and still, seemingly untroubled. Then again, Abby was always good at wearing masks when she could. Sometimes she did cry, and sob, and make sure that everyone knew how she was feeling.

Now, however, she was managing to keep herself together, even though she felt as if she were falling apart inside. The agents couldn't observe that, though. Her thoughts and feelings were her own. Seemingly the only things that she could keep to herself. Gibbs was determined to get answers out of her, and he was so sure she wouldn't hesitate.

"Do you think this will work?" McGee questioned his fellow agents, his eyes glued to the sad glass.

"It's Abby," Tony muttered.

"She trusts us," Ziva pointed out. "If she seriously thought something was wrong that concerned us, she would have come to us."

"Yeah, right," Tony protested.

"He's got a point," McGee said regretfully, hating to side with Tony, of all people. Then again, he did certainly have a point.

"Prove it," Ziva challenged, not even looking in their direction.

"When that freak Mikel stalked her?" Tony suggested without missing a beat.

Ziva finally shifted her weight to one foot as she turned to look at a smug Tony. She considered her words. "You are a smart donkey's butt, do you know that?"

"Smart ass, Ziva," Tony corrected.

"I'm sure multiple people have proven that to him, Ziva," McGee piped up, earning a scowl from Tony and a victorious smile from Ziva. However, Ziva then frowned.

"Why would an ass be smart?" Ziva narrowed her eyes, disliking the English language even more with every word of it she was forced to utter. Why couldn't the NCIS be stationed in Tel Aviv?

Before any of them could say anything more, the door opened and Jimmy joined them, fully clothed for work. He offered a shy smile as the three agents raised an eyebrow to him, so to speak. At least, the looks on their faces were obvious.

"Just wanted to see how Abby was doing," he smiled behind his glasses, standing behind McGee and Ziva to watch in between them. When he noticed their eyes still trained on him he frowned. "What? I care, too."

The three agents didn't know Jimmy very well. In fact, they hadn't known that he was close friends with Abby in the first place. Then again, they had to remind themselves that she wasn't an agent. She worked for NCIS, yes, but not exactly on Gibbs' team. It just happened to be that she was closer to them. She definitely had friends outside of the team, unlike the four agents. In fact, much like Ducky and Jimmy. She was like a neutral, hopping from person to person.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Gibbs came in, but on the wrong side of the glass. He left Abby alone and instead came in to check with his agents who had been observing the mysterious forensic scientist for the past few minutes, longer than he had. It was enough, though. Her body actions could reveal a lot in that amount of time while she was isolated in a room. Especially a room she didn't tend to like. She had admitted it scared her, but she hadn't exactly given a reason as to why.

"How is she?" Gibbs consulted, standing behind all of them and watching the glass.

"She seems alright," Ziva commented. All the woman had done was shift in her seat to find a more comfortable position, look at the table, and look at her hands in her lap.

"For Abby, she's staying pretty still," Tony offered.

"And quiet," McGee added finally, though it was obviously implied.

For a few moments, they were all quiet. This was not Abby's common behavior, even in the intimidating interrogation room. Last time she had been in there, she had been playing around with Fornell, sipping a Caf-Pow, going off on tangents, and pressing her face to the glass. This was very uncharacteristic behavior.

"Something's wrong," Gibbs remarked. To his dismay, after a slight hesitation all three agents nodded in agreement.

Jimmy had decided to stay off to the side, not wanting to even possibly get in their way. They were the agents that needed to take care of Abby and protect her. He was just there as a supportive friend, and she didn't even know. Oh well, at least he knew that he was there for her. Besides, Abby trusted him.

Finally, Gibbs took his leave, exiting the small room. After a moment the door on the other side of the glass opened and Abby's head snapped up to watch as Gibbs entered silently and sat across from her, his back to the glass. A little recorder was thrown on the table, as expected, and started recording. At least this "suspect" wouldn't be complaining about it.

Abby looked up at him, her green eyes questioning, contemplating, far away. It was a mask she was wearing. A complete lie, right in front of them. They couldn't see that, though. They never could.

"Why am I here?" she asked softly, getting straight to the point, if delaying a bit. Undeniably, she knew why she was there, but why did they have to do this? It was personal, couldn't they ask her in person? Then again, there was no hope she'd give them any answers anywhere else, so they might have been hoping to scare her into giving her some answers in the interrogation room. On the other hand, she was just another case; a victim that needed to be questioned by any means possible.

Gibbs considered his questions as he folded his arms on the table. There was plenty to ask, but where to start? It was like having to clean a circular pen. It was all dirty, but it had no corners, no beginnings or endings. So where to start?

Gibbs decided not to start with the most dramatic of questions—who the killer was. Instead, he decided to work his way up from what he suspected was the least significant to the most.

"What did you mean by the jigsaw puzzles?" Gibbs finally asked, tilting his head as his eyes found her green ones. She shuffled under his gaze, pressing and cold.

" 'To each their own mind and interpretation,' " Abby quoted, most likely from Ducky. It sounded like something she would have picked up from him. Gibbs sighed, he could see how difficult this was going to be.

She was going to avoid his questions, if lamely. There was no way he could absolutely force her, and she was going to undoubtedly take advantage of that little loophole. But if she wanted help, she had to. Though she probably didn't want it.

"And what was the intended meaning?" Gibbs asked, leaning forward slightly. This time Abby seemed to wince, though what from, Gibbs couldn't tell.

She decided to be honest. "I can't tell you. That's one of the pieces. One of the corner pieces," she emphasized. This time, Gibbs was able to set the first piece in place, the corner piece she had been mentioning.

When doing a jigsaw puzzle, you always started with the corner pieces, but the rest of the pieces wouldn't be handed to you in the proper order. You had to figure them out on your own. So far, he only had one piece in the correct place.

"I'm sorry," Abby apologized, taking Gibbs by surprise.

But he went along anyway. "For what, Abbs?"

"For confusing you. I just can't. You'll understand," she said somewhat vaguely. The word "can't" stuck out to Gibbs, though.

"Can't" was the inability to. Not the desire not to, but the actual physical inability. She could have said she wouldn't. But here, her words were being chosen carefully, as were his. Every word had its intended meaning. It was just up to Gibbs to figure that out.

When Abby registered the realization on his face from his brief discovery, she smiled softly. "I think you have another corner piece in place, Gibbs," she answered.

"There are little hints all over, left for me to pick up and find," Gibbs started his theory. "That's one of the places where I start, and then work inwards." He checked her expression and she gave him a look to continue. "The next place I start from is the fact that you can't give me the answers, the straightforward answers we're looking for."

She just nodded and smiled as he started understanding, but even this realization was getting them nowhere in this case. It was a mystery, that much was clear. It was something, at least. Better than nothing.

Then it took him a minute to notice that faraway look in her eyes. Once he focused, he realized she was swaying in her chair, as if she were about to pass out.

"Abbs? Abby?" Gibbs ask concernedly, but she shook her head after a moment. She shook her head.

Then she screamed, doubling over, her pigtails falling roughly onto the table. Gibbs' chair fell back as he stood up abruptly, becoming furious with the table for being in the way. Her own chair fell out from under her and she hit the hard floor, on her knees, doubled over in extreme pain.

Screams were coming from her mouth as her arms wrapped tightly around her stomach. It seemed as if she couldn't make any words out, the pain unbearable. "Abby! Abbs!" Gibbs shouted as the door swung open roughly and the three agents joined him.

"Jimmy is calling Ducky," McGee said quickly, bending down to try to help Abby stand. She couldn't move though, in much too pain.

Her body was frozen as screams continued racking her body, the pain reaching every part of her, parts she didn't even know she had. It took over her body and reached her head, shutting everything else out.

The next thing she knew everything went black all at once.