March 30
"If you must slander someone, don't speak it, but write it. Write it in the sand, near the water's edge." - Napoleon Hill.
"Abs?" Gibbs called, turning down the loud music as he entered the lab.
"Two seconds!" She called back from ballistics lab, something in her voice keeping him rooted to the spot instead of making his way closer. Sure enough, she emerged shrugging on her lab coat, pigtails slightly askew. "Sorry, this is Tim's fault, I told him not to-" She stopped as Gibbs glared, striding towards the room she'd left. "He's not there, he walked into me earlier and spilt my Caf-Pow down my new white shirt with the chains across the front. It's beautiful and my newest favourite but I couldn't tell him that because he felt bad enough already."
"Abs." He cut her off, nodding at the computer. "Did you figure out what the numbers mean?"
"Why else would I call you down here? Now, our victim had, as estimated by Ducky, a few minutes before he bled out. So he writes the following numbers in the sand as his dying last. I can't even imagine how scared he must have been to know..." She paused, casting a sideways glance to the man next to her. "Nutshell, right?" He nodded. "The first few are a house number and street number based on their co-ordinates. Then he writes three letters, P-E-N and the first four numbers of a service number."
"Pender."
"You know, I used to love playing on the beach. Making sandcastles and writing my name in the sand, watching the sea wash it away." Abby smiled as Gibbs did too, remembering the day he and Shannon had taken Kelly to the beach for the first time. She'd told him before bed that night how she loved the waves as they crashed against the sand and the feel of the spray against her face, making her bury herself into his arms and the crook of his neck.
"I love the beach." Abby repeated.
"Me too." Gibbs confessed, kissing her forehead and leaving her alone.