Author's Note: The normal text signifies scenes in the present; the text in italics are the flashbacks of the previous night.

Chapter Two: The Night Before

Washington, D.C.

October 2012

Walking through the bullpen as he returned from his lunch, dropping his empty coffee cup in the bin and answering the phone just as it began to ring at the very moment he slid into his seat, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs went through the motions with apparent ease and speed, emitting secure confidence that he knew what he was doing; that he was calm and collected and his heart wasn't beating ridiculously fast.

Gibbs was intently whittling wood, crafting a gift for Abby, who wanted a personalized gift ready in time for Christmas. He looked so good concentrating that Abby couldn't take her eyes off the older man. All she could think about was how much she wanted the Marine's callused hands on her and not the wood or his tools. Abby wondered once again why the handsome man she adored had insisted on working at her apartment and not his house, but Gibbs had refused to supply her with an answer.

"Jethro," the familiar voice of his old friend Ducky Mallard's voice reached his ears, "why on earth are you asking me to investigate the autopsy in a FBI cold case?"

"Because there's something there that seems odd. And before you say I should ask their ME, this isn't work, it's personal." Gibbs answered. "Please, Duck. Do this for me."

"If you thought that Dr. Kirkland missed something, why didn't you mention it at the time, Jethro?" Ducky chided gently, as if Gibbs was a child. "Didn't your famous gut tell you something was wrong?"

"It did, Duck."

"Then why did you wait four years before raising your suspicions?"

Ducky sounded slightly annoyed now, and Gibbs couldn't blame him. Whenever he thought back to that fateful night four years ago, he still remembered the terror on the sixteen-year-old's face. The striking sapphire eyes that captivated the attention of the people who met her, the gentle smattering of freckles across her nose and upper cheeks, the vivid jet-black hair. He remembered the excited phone conversation he'd had with her that evening, he remembered his fears that she was too young to get married, he remembered the handsome young man she loved and the gentle boy he had been. He remembered the phone call that changed his life, he remembered the FBI agent that saved hers, he remembered how that agent still fought for justice despite sacrificing so much. But what he hated was that four years on, he could not remember why.

Almost as if he knew he was being surveyed, the silver-haired fox- she had certainly been on the money with that description- spoke with even looking up.

"Is there something wrong, Abs?"

"No, Gibbs." Abby answered. "I'm just really impressed at how well you're doing that. I know you'll say it comes from practice, but I don't think I could ever make something that good even with a hundred years of practice."

"You saying I'm over a hundred years old?" the Marine laughed.

"I'm saying you're naturally talented." the Goth answered.

"You wanna tell me something I don't know?"

For a moment Abby felt compelled to tell Gibbs the truth; to confess the feelings that had been bubbling in her since he had returned from his retirement. At first she had managed to deny her attraction to the still-grieving man by continuing to keep up their façade of a father-daughter relationship. Whenever she had a new boyfriend, they complained she seemed distant and accused her of cheating on them, yet she had indulged them all in failed attempts to get over Gibbs.

"Boss?" Tony interrupted Gibbs' train of thought. "Do we have a lead?"

"No, DiNozzo." Gibbs answered, seeing the flicker of hope in Tony's eyes to fade. "You're still going through that paperwork; there might be something important hidden."

"Jethro," Ducky sighed, "I'm still on the phone."

"Then get off it and review that autopsy." Gibbs replied sharply before slamming the phone down. When he noticed his team looking at him warily, he barked. "What?"

"I have never known you to speak to Ducky in that way, and I have been part of this team for seven years." Ziva answered. "Is there a problem, Gibbs?"

"Why should there be a problem, Ziva?" Gibbs asked, getting up. "I'm going out to get coffee."

He got up and ignored his team's stares as he walked out of the bullpen, fighting his internal feelings. He knew if his closest friend Tobias Fornell knew about his predicament, he'd shout at him until his voice ran hoarse, then pester the Marine endlessly in "an attempt to knock some sense into that brain".

"Abs?" Gibbs' voice snapped Abby out of her reverie. "Anything special going on in that head of yours?"

"Not really." Abby lied. "I'm gonna go to bed or I'll never wake up tomorrow."

The forensic scientist stood up, and instantly the alcohol she had drunk during the course of the night went straight to her head, causing her to stumble off-balance. Within what seemed like seconds, Gibbs had jumped from his seat and caught Abby gently.

But in Gibbs' world, it was different. And as far as he knew, Fornell had never been in this position. In fact, he'd probably babble on about how time changed people. Gibbs didn't want that to happen, though. As far as he was concerned, he was Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Marine and NCIS agent, one of the best at wooing women and one of the worst at keeping them, married four times and divorced three, and most importantly of all: up until now, he had been a father figure to Abby. He didn't ever want that aspect of his personality to ever change. He didn't want to be falling for Abigail Sciuto, who he was absolutely sure would regret her actions of the previous night should she recall them, when the said object of his affections was much, much younger than Gibbs. And as he finally noticed the fifteenth coffee shop he'd walked past, he heard Fornell's voice as clear as day in his mind.

"If your feelings are so precarious, Jethro, so questionable... couldn't Abby's be too?"

It might have been the unusual close proximity of the two friends, it might have been the alcohol they had both consumed, it might have been that the smell of sawdust mixed with Gibbs' unique scent had gone to Abby's head. But for some unidentified reason, the younger woman tilted her head and kissed Gibbs. Not just a brushing of the lips, easily explained away, but a passionate kiss. It only lasted a few seconds before Gibbs pushed her off and clung to her shoulders while he spoke.

"You're drunk, Abby. You don't know what you're doing. Go to bed."

Abby had complied; had walked up the steps and fell onto her comfortable bed, pulling her duvet over her. And it was in true Abigail Sciuto fashion that she only realized something apocalyptically important in the moment before she fell asleep: that in those precious few seconds, Gibbs had responded to the kiss.

And that, he had absolutely no answer for.

Thank you everybody for your reviews! I was really interested to hear everyone's theories about who Lacey's father is; keep them coming! You'll find out who "daddy dearest" is in chapter three ;) I will say one thing though: she isn't Kelly.

I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter! I tried to keep it equal by having Gibbs' thoughts in the present tense and Abby's in the flashbacks so we know what both sides are thinking :)

I think I'm going to keep up asking you questions each chapter, it's awesome hearing your thoughts on Mendacity!

And today's question is: what would you like to see happen next with Gibbs and Abby? How does their romance develop? ;)