Swallowing the last of her Corona, Mann put the bottle back on the workbench and sighed. As the taste faded, she licked her lips. It had been a long week; two active homicide cases had led to her 2IC being bitten by the culprit, which resulted in not only a very grumpy Major but a very tired Colonel who was happy to see the end of the day.

A new bottle appeared in front of her and she smiled, lifting it to her lips. Tomorrow was Saturday. She was just about to take a sip when something caught her eye. Quickly halting the upward arc of the bottle, she tipped it back to vertical and set it on the table.

In the corner, almost blanketed in darkness, was a pair of black stilettos. They were closed toe, uncovered on the side and had a cup for the heel. A strap of black silk ribbon that wrapped around the ankle hung loosely with no leg inside its circle. The ribbon clasped into a sparkly buckle, and it was the sparkle that she'd noticed.

They weren't hers.

"Gibbs?"

Behind her, she felt Gibbs still. Even the least perceptive man in the world would have been chilled by her tone.

"Yeah?"

She stooped and hooked a finger under the ankle straps. Standing up, she turned to face him. "Who do these belong to?"

He seemed to be relieved and stuck for an answer at the same time.

"They're Abby's."

She couldn't help but be annoyed by his reply; not only because of what it was, but because of the way it was delivered, as if the answer was perfectly obvious and acceptable.

"Why," she fixed him with a stare, "have you got Abby's shoes here?"

He took a swig of his beer. "She left them here."

His tone was the same as before, and it grated. "Any particular reason why Abby would take off her shoes in your basement?"

"She was working on the boat." He picked up a piece of sanding paper and turned to a plank of wood, which only served to annoy her more.

She raised an eyebrow. "In stilettos?"

He shrugged. "She was at a party."

"And of course no good party is complete without a touch of carpentry to finish off the night." She knew jealousy didn't become her.

Gibbs stared at her levelly, an unusual look in his eye. "I'm closer to the city than she is. She comes here when she's too drunk to drive and her friends aren't ready to take a cab home."

"Does she get drunk a lot?" She knew her phrasing could have been better, especially when his expression changed. He was accepting a challenge.

"Not as much as she used to."

Mann couldn't quite place his tone, although there was something slightly nostalgic about it. She felt somehow responsible for it. "How did she get home without them? Even Abby would notice she wasn't wearing any shoes."

She wasn't quite sure what had made her say it. She knew it never seemed to shine through, but she did respect the lab tech. Abby was one of the most gifted forensic scientists she'd ever met, and seemed particularly skilled at coaxing Gibbs out of a bad mood.

So, on second thoughts, she knew exactly what had made her say it.

His eyes hardened. "Yes, of course she knew. I drove her home in the morning."

"So she stayed the ni-" she was cut off as the front door banged open.

"Gibbs?"

He threw the sandpaper onto the workbench and turned to yell up the stairs. "Down here!"

There was a crash, followed by the sound of feet hopping.

"Argh, Gibbs, lights wouldn't kill you!"

Gibbs laughed. "Abby, every time you come here you crash into that same table. The table is always there. It doesn't move!"

She was closer now, close enough for Mann to hear the sound of her tutting impatiently at what she'd obviously deemed a triviality.

"Please tell me you have my shoes?"

Mann felt Gibbs' eyes flick to her. "Yes and no."

A figure filled the doorway. "Yes and no? What the hell does that mea…" she trailed off as she saw who was holding her stilettos. "Lieutenant-Colonel Mann. Hi, um, hello! Like 'em?"

Mann looked down at the shoes. "Hey, Abby. Yeah, they're…sparkly."

Abby carefully descended the stairs, and Mann saw what she was wearing as the light hit her. Bright red skirt overalls, that ended just under the curve of her bum. Abby did have the legs for it, Mann had to give her that. The top part only reached just below her breasts, but the suspenders curled all the way up and over her shoulders and down to the small of her back. A black baby-t, with the words "Damn the Man! Save the Empire" emblazoned across the front covered what the overalls didn't. Pale flesh of her hips could be seen where the bottom of the T didn't quite meet the top of the skirt.

She skirted the dirty, sawdust covered parts of the floor and Mann noticed that her nails were painted fire-truck red. The same colur as the hair ties she wore; her hair was in low plaits that rested on her shoulders. Awkwardly, she reached for her shoes. "Thanks." She hooked her fingers under the straps.

Mann nodded. "No problem."

Abby smiled, her shiny red lips curving happily. "So, I'm off. Friend's housewarming."

"Pete's?" Gibbs asked.

Both women turned to him. "No," Abby shook her head. "Damian's."

Gibbs shifted his weight from his left foot to his right.

"Relax Gibbs. That was two years ago. Damo was so off his head that night he tried to have sex with anything that moved."

"Well then, make sure you stand still."

Abby laughed. She turned to make her way to the stairs, but then to Mann's surprise, Gibbs put his hand on her arm to stop her.

"Don't sleep with anybody you don't know."

Abby rolled her eyes. "Please, I can barely sleep with anybody I do know at the moment."

He continued on. "Don't leave your drinks, call me if you need a lift."

Abby darted her eyes to Mann, and discomfort rolled off both women in waves. In one way or another, they both felt like they ought not to be in the room for this conversation.

"Sure, sure. I'll be fine."

His fingers tightened around her arm. "Call me if you need a lift."

Abby smiled and nodded, touched by his sincerity. She knew that any other time he would have kissed her on the cheek. He looked like he wanted to, but circumstances and present company were not to be forgotten.

Mann watched him let go of her arm and push her towards the stairs gently. It was a curious thought, that if they wanted to communicate in secret, they needed only to sign.

Whether with words or hands, she had a feeling that they spoke a language all of their own. One she just couldn't quite understand.