NCIS and all of its wonderful characters – no they don't belong to me. Sigh, they never will. Some of them do belong to each other, though, don't you agree?

Wake Up and Smell the Coffee (sequel to Sawdust and Gunpowder) – Boundaries get crossed and bridges get burned. Will Abby and Gibbs ever get on the same page?

Rating – M. Not for kiddos. Really.

FWandFS (Fair Winds and Following Seas): Second Fanfic in this Fandom. Have written others as FeliciaMaplewood for Scarecrow and Mrs. King…Yes, I am dating myself by admitting that.

Chapter 5 Each man kills the thing he loves

'Sonofabitch,' he thought to himself.

Gibbs could feel the dull throb at his temples from a headache he just couldn't shake as he rubbed his forehead wearily. He was running on caffeine and inborn grit. He had hardly slept last night…or the night before…or even the night before that. The fact was he didn't like himself much since the night he left Abby's apartment. It seemed that the rest of his team agreed with that assessment.

The tension from his team members was palpable and their unusual quiet actually had begun to grate on his nerves. He could feel Ziva's periodic sidelong glance on the back of his neck, even if he never looked up to acknowledge it. Her measured, analytical gaze had found him somewhat wanting though she never said a word. Tony had simply been snide, with his vocal tone always hovering at rank disrespect. He never shut a desk drawer if he could slam it. Subtlety was not his strong suit.

But it was McGee's icy professionalism that twisted the knife of guilt in his guts. Without a word of rebuke, he made it amply clear that he was royally pissed off with his boss. Their roles had been relatively reversed and for once Gibbs had trouble meeting his junior's cool direct gaze. Abby certainly had a loyal following.

It made it damn hard to concentrate. And if they ever needed to work as a team, they needed to now. God knew, he didn't want another girl showing up on Ducky's autopsy table.

"Dinozzo! Any reports back on Ostepenchevko's BOLO?" his voice rasped with fatigue and his tone was sharper than it needed to be. The hit man had dropped out of sight just as they finally had enough forensic evidence to bring him in.

"Uh-uh." Tony didn't elaborate. A terse Tony was a rare thing indeed.

Crap. That meant the only lead he had next to chase down would be in the lab. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing that he would rather they face Abby than him. He set his jaw and mustered the will to head downstairs, full well knowing that three sets of eyes followed him in judgment as he headed to the elevators. He'd better get a Caf-Pow first.

It was silent in the lab.

Well, not quite silent as the machines whirred and beeped in an odd synchrony of science. Certainly, it didn't resemble the lab as he had come to know it over the past decade. There was no blaring music and no happy patter to greet him either.

If Abby knew he had arrived, she didn't turn to acknowledge him. She stood with military precision at the computer monitor as her hands flew over the keys. She looked efficient and crisp in her white lab coat.

His head cocked as he scanned the room for the undefinable change in atmosphere. Her Chagall inspired print of the shattered spine was gone. There were no mummies or voodoo dolls next to the monitor. Any personal effects had been stripped and the lab looked about as welcoming as his forensic scientist did.

"Abbs," he called out in wary greeting.

"Agent Gibbs." Her response was cool and clipped. She did not turn around.

His mouth tightened as he braced for what was sure to be another unpleasant conversation. Abby hadn't discussed their undercover assignment or their disagreement since their encounter three days before. She had been ruthlessly efficient, and unlike himself clear-eyed and uncannily professional each time he had spoken with her. Goth fashion had been left at home, though she looked severe enough in unremitting black except for her lab coat. The only concession to her personal style was her shining nickel wrist cuffs.

He approached from behind and left the Caf-Pow within reach by her keyboard. "Got anything new, Abbs?"

She tilted her head and paused her typing only momentarily. "If I had, Agent Gibbs, I would have sent an email to inform you. Besides confirmation of Mikhail's DNA being the same as under Victim 3's fingernails, which I informed you of two days ago, no I do not have anything new."

He watched as her fingers virtually assaulted the keyboard with sharp strikes. He could only be grateful that it was taking the abuse he was sure she would rather have heaped on him.

"What about the leaves – were they a match?" Gibbs pressed on.

"I don't know that yet," She responded shortly. "If you would like to return to your desk, I will call McGee as soon as I have results." The implication that he would not be missed was quite evident.

Gibbs sighed. This couldn't continue. He stepped in closer next to her and pushed the keyboard out of reach. "Look Abbs, we gotta stop this." His gaze fixed on the delicate lines of her profile, even as her chin tilted up stubbornly.

Abby whirled and crossed behind a lab table, arranging materials fruitlessly in order, if only to give her hands something to do and her mind something to focus on. "I don't know what you mean. Has there been a problem with my work performance?"

Gibbs crossed his arms across his chest, bracing for the necessary showdown. "Abbs, come on…"

Her eyes flashed spitfire as she finally brought her gaze up to meet his. "Just what is your point, Gibbs?" Her hand gripped a beaker so tightly it might shatter.

He held her eyes with his own intent gaze. "We can't go on like this, Abbs. We need to work it out."

"Oh, now you want to work this out?" She fired back. "And do tell, just what is it you want from me this time?"

You. In my arms. In my bed. He cut that automatic thought off at the pass. No sense wanting what he couldn't have.

"We need to be able to work together, Abbs." He responded as gently as he could.

She lifted her eyebrow ironically. "But I have been working, Gibbs. I think you made it pretty clear that's all you wanted from me."

He flinched at the just accusation in her tone. "Abby…" he sighed, not sure how to continue.

Her voice cracked. "You can't have it both ways, Gibbs."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh please, don't break rule 6 on my account." Her voice was sharp and brittle, still not ready to give any quarter.

His lips compressed in frustration. Yes, he had been an ass, but she wasn't making this any easier for him. What the hell did she want from him anyway?

He strode forward and leaned across the lab table, his frustration simmering in his eyes as he gripped the stainless steel table edges tightly. "Look, Abbs. I fucked up. I get it. But what is it going to take so we can go back to how we were?" His voice dropped low. "I need you, Abbs."

She felt the tears prick behind her eyes. Damn him. She would not let them fall.

"No, you don't get it." She lashed back. "You hurt me. I trusted you and you hurt me."

Her upfront accusation was like a punch to the solar plexus. His head bowed as he searched for words that would never really make it better. "I know." He acknowledged.

Abby started to pace the length of the lab table, her hands wringing as she processed aloud. "I get it. You're not into me. Fine. Whatever." Her brow furrowed in thought. "But Gibbs, you acted like I threw myself at you. Like I throw myself at any guy…Like I didn't have any reason. But that wasn't fair." Her eyes accused him.

"I know."

"You know why? 'Cause maybe I read too much into things, but I wasn't the only one who crossed the line, Gibbs. You held me, you danced with me, you kissed me, Gibbs. I wasn't the only one, you know."

"I know." His whisper sounded pained.

"So what the hell, Gibbs? There's a million ways to tell a girl 'No thanks' without making her feel like a slut!"

"Abby!" His eyes shot up to meet hers in denial.

"Well, you did!" Her gaze was unrelenting and unforgiving. "And I never would have thought that of you, Gibbs. Ever."

He swallowed hard. Truth was a biting bitch. He just couldn't find the words to respond.

This time Abby had no patience for him and his silences, either. She huffed quietly. "Well, I guess I got a first-hand taste of why the second 'b' is for bastard."

Her bitter words rained down, but he had no response to defend himself. She was right.

Abby sighed. "Just leave, Gibbs. You're good at that." She walked back to the monitor, keeping her back stiff.

He knew there was no further reasoning with her today and he felt the roiling frustration in himself that he, and no one else, had caused this. He left her lab silently. But as the elevator doors closed, he could hear the clink of ice cubes against the stainless steel sink as she poured out his peace offering. Gibb gripped the side rails of the elevator and his head clunked back against the wall. He didn't know how to fix this. He was screwed.

He couldn't face the bullpen. Even if Ducky had no answers on the case, it was the only place in the building he could go when he was as churned up as he was right now.

There were no new bodies to autopsy, Thank God. The medical examiner was seated at his desk examining his own notes. Ducky was meticulous that way. There was something about the kindly Scot that made him the de facto father confessor for them all. Gibbs was no exception.

"Ah…Jethro. I was wondering when you would stop by." Ducky did not seem the least surprised to see him and pushed a chair out for Gibbs to sit in.

But Gibbs stood behind the chair instead, leaning forward and gripping the armrests to support his weight. He grimaced in frustration, unable to know where to begin. The gentle doctor was as much a father figure to Abby as he was a friend to Gibbs. He probably should make sure the doctor didn't have a spare liver probe to spear him with.

"You look pained, Jethro." Ducky observed mildly.

"Ya think?" Gibbs shot back, before looking away, unable to face the calm direct gaze of his friend.

"Mmm," Ducky commented. "I assume you are here because of your conflict with Abigail."

Gibbs didn't respond and Ducky continued. "While Abby herself has been quite mum on the subject, one could not fail to notice some rather drastic changes in her demeanor." He laid down his pen, and cocked his head to the side assessing Gibbs with his glance. "And yours…"

Gibbs snorted. Ducky could be the master of the understatement when he chose.

"Tony saw fit to apprise me of your undercover operation and the….complications… that ensued." The doctor continued, but then paused awaiting a response from Gibbs that was not forthcoming.

Ducky gently tilted his head and waited Gibbs out. The agent was not the only one who knew that silence could be an effective interrogation technique.

"I hurt her." Gibbs acknowledged quietly.

"Why? I'm sure you didn't want to."

"Because it was better to hurt her a little now than have her hate me later." Gibbs finally admitted. It was like ripping off a bandage – better done quickly and with force. Then the pain was over and done.

"And what did you want, Jethro?" Ducky asked without judgment.

"It doesn't matter what I want, Ducky. She's young, she's beautiful and she's brilliant and she doesn't need a bitter, broken Marine with a truckload of baggage." It was a relief to say it out loud, even if the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. He hated that he couldn't be what Abby needed, especially when he wanted her so much.

"Ah…And I take it Abby did not appreciate your making this decision for her." Ducky stated the obvious.

Gibbs shrugged in response. He hadn't really given her an option.

"I am somehow reminded of the final work of Oscar Wilde." Ducky stood and flipped his notes shut. "A rather long and comprehensive ballad which he did not in fact attach his name to. It was put on the publication posthumously. The Ballad of Reading Gaol. His unfortunate imprisonment leant a maturity to his writing as tragedy so often does…Now let me see if I remember the verse…" His face lit up as he recalled the words and he lifted his finger admonishingly as he recited.

"Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!"

He smiled faintly as he finished. Gibbs was in a gaol of his own devising. One could only hope the dear boy would come to his senses soon. Life, after all, was a very transient thing – and love was its sole redeeming value.

TBC

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