Chapter 10

Any person entering the forensic lab, down in the basement of NCIS HQ, would be quite unable to ignore the gloomy atmosphere hovering in there. Also, it was oh so quiet and dark, the only light coming from a small desk lamp and the blueish shine from the computer in the back office.

Visitors who were used to the occupant's ways, would be struck by the near absence of music. 'Near' because there was music playing in the background. Soft music, and not at all the lab rat's style.

Abby was so engrossed in whatever she was doing, that she didn't hear the ding of the elevator, nor the doors to her lab whoosh open, and, amazingly enough, not even the person entering her lab.

He wasn't exactly trying to be completely silent or sneaky. No. Just like her, he was subdued because there simply wasn't anything to be elated about.

The man sighed and sank down in the corner chair, facing her, patiently waiting for her to look up from her monitor. But she didn't. Or rather, she wouldn't. Afraid of the course this conversation would inevitably take. Of course it was utterly pointless to ignore what was going on.

The man leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, listening to Corelli's Adagio which was so in contrast with Abby's usual rather extreme taste of music.

"I gather you haven't heard anything, yet, Abigail?"

She took her time to answer, her eyes still glued on the screen, and when she did, it was barely audible.

"No..."

Silence.

Except for the soft music and the computer ventilator.

No words.

The door to the lab slid open and faltering footsteps were heard, falling silent as they approached Abby's small office. A young male voice made itself heard.

"Hi Abby. Dr. Mallard. I'm about to close down. Was there anything else that still needs to be done?"

Ducky rubbed his eyes wearily and opened them to look at his young assistant.

"No, Mr Palmer. We'll call it a day. But don't lock the door as you leave. I'll see to it myself as soon as I'll finish here."

"Uhm...okay then...uhm..."

"Yes, Mr Palmer?"

"Mmm...nothing..." With that he spun on his heels and headed out of the lab again. He'd learned not to press the good doctor when he was less his garrulous self.

The 'good' doctor, meanwhile, was wondering why Jimmy hadn't asked what was foremost on his mind...on any one's mind, in fact.

Finally Abby shut down her computer and rolled her chair back.

"It's not like Gibbs...or any of them...not to call."

"They are at sea, after all, Abigail dear. Maybe they have no coverage."

"Something's hinky, Ducky. I can feel this!"

"Abi..."

She wouldn't let him finish what he was about to say.

"Something's wrong with McGee. I'm sure of it! When it comes to Timmy, I have this...this...gut feeling. Just like Gibbs. A Gibbs feeling. In here." She laid her palm on her belly.

"I have butterflies..." She got up and started pacing her small office. "No...nonono...not butterflies... Anyway: something really ticklish... And it gives me goosebumps. Not good at all, Ducky. Bad signs."

She stopped in front of him, one hand holding onto her pigtail and fumbling with it, which showed how agitated she was.

She pivoted and started biting her fingernails, still avoiding his eyes.

"Abigail, my dear. Why don't you see it this way: no news is good news?"

"Then, tell me, Ducky, why are you here in my office? You don't look too confident either."

"You've caught me out. I can't explain, but I can't shake this sensation of impending...trouble. I reminds me of when I was in Vietnam... I..."

"Ducky, I don't care where it was..Vietnam or Timbuktu..."

"I merely wanted to..."

"No. I don't want to hear it. We haven't heard of them and usually they make calls for something...anything... Trivial or important, no matter, but they call. And you know how Timmy is when he's seasick."

At first, Ducky was a little miffed to be cut off by Abby, but, to be fair, he was worried, too. He also knew his young friend wasn't exactly ship-shape. And, as soon as he heard they were to go on a boat trip, he couldn't help but have his misgivings about McGee being out at sea...in the weakened state he was currently in, he would certainly be in a disadvantage. The young man was still short of some good rest and being seasick wasn't going to help. Quite the reverse.

Moreover, Jimmy had checked for the weather forecast and what he found was not exactly weather for an enjoyable picnic in the park! Oh no. They all knew too well how the young agent would fare. They also knew for a certainty how Tony would never let Tim live it down if he fell prone to this malaise.

"What were you doing on the computer, anyway?"

"Reading a real interesting article on slugs and forensic indicators. Or at least trying to..." she answered morosely.

"Aha? Which one? Is it the one from..."

"Real slugs, Ducky. This is about the Ariolimax."

"Oh..."

Another period of utter silence reigned until the phone rang, nearly causing them both to jump from their skins.

Abby looked at Ducky, eyes wide and shaking her head vigorously. No way was she going to answer the phone. What if it were bad news? Didn't Ducky just say that no news was good news?

Ducky breathed out a sigh and using both hands, he levered himself out of his chair and stretched out a hand to pick up the phone.

"Dr. Mallard."

"We have news..."

Ducky mouthed "Vance" to Abby and she pushed the speaker button.

"...it's not positive and, unless we get intel of the opposite, it's not entirely negative either."

Abby threw her hands in the air, rolling her eyes with an air of "Duh?" Either it was positive or it was negative news...or no news at all. But this? When was Vance going to come to the crux instead of this uncharacteristically beating about the bush?

Vance, unaware of what was happening on the other end of the line, continued.

"Coast Guard informed us that they received a distress call from...the vessel carrying on board NCIS agents."

Abby's breath hitched and she clapped her hand to her mouth, knowing full well who those NCIS agents would be.

"Any news on their fate, Director?" The ME asked, locking his eyes with Abby's.

"Coast Guard have been unable to establishment any further radio contact since the last Mayday emission. It is generally assumed the boat is lost. The skipper happens to be an old acquaintance and is known to be an old sea dog. Therefore they stand a very good chance to be rescued. It's now up to the SAR to pick them up. Let's keep some optimism. At least the USCG receive GMDSS alerts which helps them pin-point the exact position."

"Any more information on their condition? With Timothy's health factor in play, I can't help but anticipate complications." A small sound coming from Abby made Ducky cringe. His own anxiety over Tim's condition had resulted in his overlooking Abby's fear for her friend. Oh dear.

"Negative. That's the only intel we have thus far. Let's not prejudge the situation and think the worst."

There was a moment of silence over the line, but then Vance resumed.

"I'm aware of Agent McGee's medical status, but since he was cleared for work... What haven't I been told? I trust you are aware I don't take to kindly to being misinformed about my agents?" There was a cold edge to the director's voice that even seeped through the phone.

Ducky rubbed the bridge of his nose as he considered how best to reply to this nettly question. However he was saved the answer.

"Thought so. You'd better hope we have my MCRT back in one piece, doctor. When this is over, you and I will have a chat before the periodic health examinations planned for next month. As the MCRT's physician, I'd like to hear your assessment and have a preliminary run through the medical records you keep on them."

"Of course, Director."

"Meanwhile, I'll keep you two in the loop. I trust Miss Sciuto is still present?"

"Yes, Director."

"Thought so. While I applaud both your loyalty to this team, I still have to insist that fretting about them won't make them come back faster. I'd strongly suggest you both go home and grab some sleep." There was a sigh. "However, I'd sooner eat my hat than that you will act on my advice, I guess."

"Thank you, Director."

"It's alright. I'll call you as soon as I hear more, but, please, do take a rest."

Ducky heard the telltale click when Vance hung up.

Abby grabbed Bert and gave the stuffed hippo a mighty squeeze so that it made a flatulent noise.

"I knew it! I KNEW it! Told you it was hinky!" She was furiously pacing in her lab with the sounds of Bert and the tippy-tapping of her platform boots as her constant companions.

"Abigail..."

She rounded on him and peered in his face.

"I feel it when Timmy is in danger! I really really feel it, Ducky! For all we know he may be dead! Drowned. His body sinking to the bottom of the ocean! Poor, sweet Timmy! The idea I'll never see him back!"

Ducky firmly grabbed her by her shoulders and gave her a little shake.

"Abigail! Stop this. You can't know this. The others won't let it go this far. Surely, after all this time, you do know how they have each other's backs? Besides, you did hear the Director say that they have an experienced seaman with them?"

"But Ducky!"

"No! Enough is enough, Abigail. You should calm down."

"Bu..."

"Miss Sciuto! Really! For your sake and my sanity, I beg you to lock those doomsday scenarios away this instant!"

At her downcast countenance, he quickly relented.

"Now look here. Why don't we go upstairs to one of the conference rooms where it's a little cosier than here? Why don't you go there while I make us some calming tea and inform the Director of our whereabouts? Wouldn't that be good?"

She shrugged and, seeing the sense in Ducky's words, did as she was told deciding it was indeed a better place for, what they would expect to become, a long wait.

Then, little over an hour later – hardly a long wait - the Director walked into the meeting room to tell them in person that he'd been contacted by Coast Guard.

"The raft had been spotted and SAR is coordinating the rescue as we speak."