DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.

"You could have told me where you were going this morning." Jenny commented, realizing Gibbs wasn't about to speak first, even if he'd been the one dragging her there - you know, to her personal office.

A blank stare and his crossed arms were her answer, and she sat down with a sigh.

She still didn't know what it was that he wanted, so she patiently began ignoring him in favor of paperwork. Well - maybe she did know what he wanted, and just didn't care to acknowledge it.

He returned her silence right back, and, unfortunately, he was also slightly better at these kind of mind games than she was. Her glasses hit her chest, dangling from her neck, and she huffed in frustration, glaring at her ex-partner. He let the mask on his face slip off for a moment, smirking annoyingly in the knowledge that he'd won.

"What do you want, Jethro?" She asked stiffly, unprepared to deal with any anger that he'd surely direct at her after the week's events.

"Well, now that you mention it-" He started, totally ready to be as bothersome as he could.

"I swear to God, Gibbs," She interrupted harshly, too flustered to bother with his first name. "I will take a leaf out of Ziva's book, and I will be practical in getting a murder weapon." She threatened, fighting the blush that she could feel creeping toward her face.

He raised one eyebrow, a grin playing at his lips but not quite there. "What I was trying to say, Director, was that I wanted you to provide David and DiNozzo with the inner-office dating paperwork."

Her thoughts changed swiftly, and her head (previously avoiding his gaze in a meticulous manner) snapped to him in surprise. "They actually did something? Well, no, let me rephrase that;" She corrected herself, noting how his face was still carefully expressionless. "you actually let them do something and they told you about it?"

His lips twitched, and he leaned against her desk, and finally, the mood was more relaxed. "They'll get an earful." He promised. "And who says I let them?"

"The fact that you're requesting for the paperwork for them?" She questioned with raised eyebrows.

"Part of my job."

"Okay, then the fact that they're still breathing." She offered.

"Says who?" He retorted smartly.

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Who says they're still breathing?" He expanded.

She recovered quickly. "The fact that you don't like jail, but do like your job."

"I'll give you that." He conceded defeat.

Jenny grinned - she'd missed these exchanges for the couple of days Gibbs had been avoiding her. Her smile dimmed. She still didn't know what she was supposed to do about that particular subject yet.

Gibbs had smirked back a little, oblivious to the thoughts tormenting her. She still remembered those half-smiles (among many other, less innocent things) from Paris. It triggered nostalgia and a bunch of other emotions in her that she was very much unprepared to deal with. So she looked away, taking the easiest way out, and avoided thinking about it. That usually worked.

Gibbs cleared his throat with a strange look on his face. Apparently he wasn't as oblivious as he let on. "Either way - the extra red-tape should be good punishment."

Jenny took the outing like a life-line. "You're going to let it slide with only forms and a slap on the wrist?" She inquired, leaning back and eyeing him suspiciously.

The corner of his lip twitched. "It's almost as if you don't know me, Jen." He commented in mock-disappointment. Her face sobered him up - somewhat. "I can assure you one thing: David isn't going to take any maternity leaves in the near future. Not unless she locks herself somewhere with DiNozzo during the late nights I'll be making them have."

Jenny grimaced at the idea, but still wasn't convinced. "Still sounds a little bland for you, Jethro." She insisted, resolute.

"Never said that was it." He stated casually, and Jenny was reminded of a lion ready to pounce. Her pointed look told him to get on with it, but he just smirked. "Maybe you don't really want to hear the rest." And maybe she really didn't.

She changed the subject then. "Fine. Now how about you tell me how Tony got hurt?"

And the next hour was spent with them comfortably discussing the fight that Gibbs mildly put as vaguely entertaining, and pointedly avoiding talking about the issue that was just begging to be brought up. Jenny wanted to hit Gibbs a couple of times (okay, she got it already - he was cool and collected, but next time he bragged of dodging a decapitating hex, he could at least not purposefully yawn), and the rest of those times she felt like biting off her nails out of guilt - some of the things he described were uncannily alike to the situation she'd witnessed herself a few months back. The burning look in his eyes didn't help, and she felt a little short of miserable.

Eventually, her best team leader found a chair to lean back on, dangerously close to topple it backwards and hit his head on the floor. Since her concern would hardly be appreciated, she kept her mouth shut about it and asked him more about Tim being cursed instead. Gibbs' eyes immediately darkened at that and she kind of wished she'd kept quiet.

"All I know is that they struck him with some red light." He was unwelcome of the subject, if his expression was anything to go by. "He wouldn't say anything else."

With some gingerly applied prodding, he ended up telling her that the word used for the curse was 'Crucio' and that that would be about the only word he'd remember about spells. He justified that with the simple sentence that 'she should have been there to hear McGee' and that then she'd keep it in mind too. That topic discussion obviously ended there.

And then the conversation abruptly took a turn to the thing they were avoiding speaking about. And it was totally Gibbs' fault.

"Not my fault" He'd started. "that they wanted to keep away from me. I'm guessing they think they're still keeping it a secret." He'd been referring to Tony and Ziva's dating, which Gibbs considered that they believed was still being kept in the dark.

"So you four separated into pairs?" Jenny had asked with a raised eyebrow. "Doesn't seem very smart, in light of an unknown threat." Her tone had been blunt and to the point, hence Gibbs' grinning approval.

"Done that plenty of times before, Jen." He reminded her. "No different."

She fingered absent-mindedly the burned spot on her table-top – a souvenir from last January that the wizards hadn't noticed on their way out. "Don't you think that this time it was a little different?" She inquired, sharp voice intending to avoid the feeling attempting to spill over. She remembered – too vividly – the scene that had left that mark on her desk, and she was tempted to tell Gibbs just how different this situation was, by revealing a couple of things he would surely dislike.

She had too much fondness for life in her still, though.

"No." He'd stated calmly, crossing his arms and – somehow – still balancing that chair.

"How's so?" She'd practically growled, knuckles whitening on the wood. He'd raised an eyebrow at her sudden hostility, but consciously riled her up further by shrugging.

And then he'd taken the very open opportunity. She'd been stupid to let herself be strung along like that, but Gibbs had always held the power to make her go, blind and lacking the gift of thought, wherever he wanted her to go. Without her say in it.

"'Cause you already knew all about it, Jen. And if there was anything we'd needed to know, you'd have told us. Right?" The quiet question had been about a little more than whatever information she had on their latest bad guy.

And that was how they found themselves ripped of all the previous easy talk, and right back to the elephant in the room. The space around them lost ten degrees, and their statements were holding a tad more meaning than before. The silence that followed was a direct result of just that – words were a lot heavier in weight now, and they both needed more quiet time to think of what to say next.

She was the one to speak first. "Of course I would have." Her thinned lips promised otherwise. "Unless it was sensitive, Government-level intel, disclosed only to those whose knowledge of it was strictly necessary. You know, kept under wraps for being an international secret." She snapped, noting with displeasure how annoyance flashed in his eyes briefly at her answer. He'd expected her to backtrack, apologize, whatever – so she felt guilty about not doing it. But that was what he wanted, so she steeled herself and glared. "Was it like that, Jethro?"

He gave her a stare as an answer. How atypical of him.

She avoided his eyes and then felt furious about it, but still refused to hold his gaze. If it was a choice between swallowing her pride and Gibbs' disappointment, she'd just have to find some water to help her ego down.

"Maybe." He finally answered. "But I think you would have still told us, since you'd have been more preoccupied with our safety than your job. Wouldn't you, Director?" The frosty tone with which he said her title made her teeth clench.

She looked up at him for the first time to give him a hurt look. She hoped that that helped him with understanding the honesty of her next words. "No, I wouldn't have." His narrowed eyes made her legs tense, as if ready to help her flee should he attack – which was looking like a very immediate possibility. "I would, however, have made every effort to make sure your safeties were not anywhere near compromised, if by other means." She made it very clear, and Gibbs seemed to get it.

But it still didn't mean he liked it. "Glad to hear it." But his stiff tone told her the matter was still unresolved, and, for once, she refused to let him leave her presence without handling it properly like two adults should.

"Jethro," She sighed warily, already frustrated with the subject. "I had no choice."

Before she even had a chance to open her mouth to continue, he was interrupting. "Yeah, you did." He told her matter-of-factly, looking like he had such faith in that statement that she almost believed it too.

"No, I didn't." She told him, the fierceness both to convince herself and the man before her. "And I know you're hurt-"

"Jen…" He warned.

She rolled her eyes weakly. "Fine. I know you're not agreeable about it," The way she drawled out the word was to make a point that she was sure he got. "but I don't care." She informed him flat-out. "I can't just go on your whim and follow what you want just because that's the only option you agree on. I'm sorry, but the people way upstairs outrank you just a little."

"They don't outrank my team's lives." He told her sharply, reminding her in no uncertain terms of what was right and what was wrong.

She ran a hand through her hair, straining to keep herself composed. "Even if I strongly tend to agree with you, orders are orders, Jethro. I know that you're used to a free reign, but there are some things you can't make a joke of." She warned him, bracing herself for the onslaught surely coming.

"I don't make a joke of my job, Jen."

"That's not what I meant, and you know that."

Silence. Of course, because how else did Gibbs communicate if not through quiet?

Well, at least he was still glaring at her. That had to count for something, didn't it?

She couldn't take it anymore. Her country told her to keep quiet, her… friend pushed her to talk, and she was being forced to take a side. This wasn't alright, and it wasn't fair, even if that made her sound petulant. She refused to choose between two sides, and, unfortunately, Gibbs was there to take the brunt of it.

She snapped completely, and in a thoroughly improper way for the director of NCIS. "What do you want from me, Jethro?" Her voice was too high, and she was sure there were tears threatening to spill behind her eyelids. "What was I supposed to do? You've been harassing me like I wouldn't believe for not having said anything, but you put yourself in my position. You're berating me for hiding something that wasn't mine to hide. How is that right?"

He didn't seem too shocked to see her on the edge – or maybe he was too good at hiding it. Either way, he sighed and occupied a chair in front of her desk. "Jen-" He began warily, and because he was Gibbs, who didn't say much, maybe she shouldn't have interrupted his few words, but she was suddenly so incredibly tired, and so incredibly emotionally drained that she just didn't care, and she was on a roll, and Gibbs just wasn't enough to stop her.

"No!" She hissed sharply, struggling not to break apart at the seams. "You do not get to speak right now!" She was almost whining, but she'd forgotten how to feel embarrassed about it. "You don't get it. And I'm not going to explain. I'm sorry, but, if you weren't affected by it, then I had no business telling you a thing. Whether that makes you feel betrayed or not."

Oh, he got it very well. The last time he'd seen her face so red was when she'd been physically strained, and even then, it wasn't like this. She was the Director now – she couldn't afford to be so vulnerable or so fragile in her position. He'd never seen her like this, and he'd seen her facing worse (in his opinion) adversaries than his disappointment.

He observed her silently and blankly as she composed herself. Her tears dried, her breaths evened out and the NCIS Director emerged again. She almost looked ready to apologize for her behavior, but, before she had the chance, his voice overruled any other sound (existing or potential).

"You know, you take too long to get things off your chest." He commented. Her face was rather worth it, but he sobered up enough not to make her lose it again. "I don't blame you, Jenny. Which is why you shouldn't blame yourself." He raised his eyebrows at her dumbstruck expression.

"You-" She choked on the rest. "You did all this just so that I'd lash out at you?" She managed to stutter, not quite out of her shock enough to glower yet.

"No." He informed her unflinchingly. "I did it so that you could get all that pent-up rage out."

She thought of a lot of different things to do and/or say. A couple of times, she even opened her mouth or lifted her arms (sometimes to reach for her stashed weapon, sometimes to reach for a paperclip). But she found herself exhausted by blue eyes and unable to complete the motions. It was just… she couldn't find a word that fit. Much like her mouth, her mind was unable to come up with anything fitting to phrase. "You make me tired. So tired. Too tired to even glare at you." Was all she could get out.

He almost grinned, but changed the subject before that. "I'm not saying I approve of a single thing you've done in this whole mess." He cautioned her, letting a darker look fill his expression briefly. "But I often don't agree with orders from above anyway."

Call her crazy, but that sentence was the one thing, of all of his speech, that soothed her in any way. He was telling her that he understood that the decision hadn't come from her, that he got that she had to follow orders – it was Gibbs' indirect manner of forgiving her, and she was grateful for it.

And, all of a sudden, the two of them were back to normal. He was teasing her, she was giving him short retorts that she hoped didn't portray the amusement she actually felt, and they were right back to where they had been, as if that week had been magically erased. She'd been dreading this confrontation with such force that, now that it was over, she almost felt like laughing at her foredoom – although, she was one to cry victory before things were over.

Gibbs was only part one. She had yet to speak to the rest of her team, her coworkers and friends, and she wasn't looking forward to it. So, determined to attain an if-you-don't-think-about-it-it'll-go-away attitude, she laughed at the right moments at whatever Gibbs said and kept her mind forcefully oblivious.

"Ducky! Ducky!"

The old man barely had time to turn before Abby body-slammed into him, and he somehow managed to keep the two of them standing. Jimmy, beside him, jerked his hands around as if about to do something to help, but he was unsure of what. For an assistant, he had a little trouble with the whole 'assisting' part.

Huffing out a breath, Ducky steadied himself without either of the younger people's help, and, unable to upset Abby, he contented himself with an annoyed glance toward Jimmy, who grimaced in response. Well, at least his assistant could correctly identify when the M.E. was glaring at him. If only he could apply that to the rest of the world, he'd be golden.

It took a while to realize Abby was hugging him, and, by then, Ducky was only able to deliver some half-hearted pats to the Goth's back before she pulled back and it was Jimmy's turn to be crushed.

"Abigail, if I may ask," Ducky frowned at the girl, noting how slightly red and puffy her eyes were. Jimmy was, wide-eyed, hugging her back as non-awkwardly as he could. "what are you doing?"

"I'm giving everyone a hug." She answered resolutely, glaring at nothing in particular and piggy-tails bouncing when her head bobbed around between the two men. "And I started with you."

Her words reverberated in the silent space of the Autopsy room, and Ducky warily eyed her with apprehension. "What's wrong, Abby?" He asked with the keen eye of an experienced profiler.

"Everything!" She cried, flinging her arms up. "Ziva just told me Tony and Tim got hurt and now she's with Tony, but McGee keeps making up excuses not to speak with me, and he's with Mary, and I'm not supposed to yell when she's around, so I can't be mad at him, and-"

"Abby!" Ducky interrupted her rant before she had time to start pacing. She turned to him with a terrified expression, as if he had all the answers, and the old man felt his gaze softening at the fear she was showing. "Breathe." He advised gently, approaching the two younger people to put a hand on her shoulder. She was still clutching Palmer's arm with an amount of force that was already making him wince.

His touch seemed to help, and Palmer exhaled a relieved breath when the constriction on his limb loosened and disappeared. But there were still tears in her eyes, and since he'd made her lose the anger, the despair was showing a little more clearly.

Ducky hadn't stopped since a glowering woman had been brought to him, and he'd been demanded to examine her. He'd have felt less bothered about it if Ginny hadn't made his every move more difficult, hence forcing him to tire himself with distracting her.

Then Gibbs had told him to take a look at Tony's leg. Then he'd said to check out McGee, but the young man had already slipped out, leaving Gibbs to burn a glare into the door. Then, when all was done, Ducky had, along with Jimmy, taken a moment to grab something to eat, and had just returned. Needless to say, they were both very eager to go home and forget all about those last nightmarish few days.

Right now he was thoroughly exhausted, and so he wasn't able to think up anything to help Abby.

"Abigail," He called gently, once he felt that her breathing had evened out enough for it to be safe. "let's go speak with Timothy, shall we?" And he led her, shushing her protests about Mary, to the elevator.

Once they got to the bullpen, Ducky didn't even say anything – he just walked right up, grabbed Mary's hand, and walked off with Jimmy dutifully in tow. The little girl kept throwing confused glances between Ducky and McGee, who was a little stiffly staring at Abby. She hadn't moved from the entrance of the bullpen, and her stance was intimidating to those who knew her – hands on her hips, narrowed eyes and clenched jaw.

Ducky was planning to take Mary to Gibbs, because handling a little girl on his own was something he wasn't used to (even if he'd never admit aloud to needing help with it).

Additionally, however, he had absolutely no intention of witnessing the following confrontation.

Then he remembered that Gibbs was talking to Jenny, and he came to the conclusion that he had no intention of witnessing that confrontation either. With a sigh, he resigned himself to the fact that he'd just have to handle her for a while – he thought it was safe to assume that Palmer wasn't going to be of any particular help.

Jimmy glanced nervously from Mary to his mentor inside the elevator. Clearing his throat with the intention of diverting the silent awkwardness, he fixed his glasses before speaking. "Do you think he'll be okay, doctor?"

Ducky was not completely sure if his assistant meant the torture McGee had been submitted to, or whatever the Goth (that the M.E. and his trainee had left him with) would do. "I don't know, Mr. Palmer. We shall wait and see." He shrugged, stepping out of the elevator with Mary in tow.

She no longer looked like she was a fish out of the water in the NCIS HQ, but more fascinated about everything there. She was even almost completely relaxed around the people from the team whom she'd met, and Ducky was glad she was feeling better. Then again, the experience of wandering around a federal building probably served as a good distraction.

Jimmy hurriedly followed the two. "Er… Doctor? Should we, uh… go home?" He was hesitant, but the question was valid – it was past the end of the work day, and while that had never been exactly of any major importance, due to their close association with the MCRT (or, more specifically, Gibbs), it was late, and the day hadn't been particularly light.

Because of what was known around the building simply as 'Gibbs' team's secret assignment', other teams had been landed with what would usually be MCRT's cases throughout the day. That had meant extra work, since, besides not having Gibbs' ability to know when to go get results from the analysts, they needed more from said analysts to make up for the lesser police work (though that assumption could simply derivate from the fact that Ducky was used to the MCRT's excellency in these types of cases).

All that, combined to the obvious reasons, meant it had been a particularly exhausting twenty-four hours, and the four agents hadn't helped when they had disappeared without so much as a 'we're going to Vegas to elope'. Ducky definitely wanted to go home as much as Palmer.

"Let's wait for Anthony, Jethro or Ziva, shall we Mr. Palmer?" Ducky answered tightly, warily trying not to snap because of his (currently) short temper. "Unless you'd like to take an eight-year-old with you." He reminded him, gesturing to the little girl, who was, bright and wide-eyed, looking at pictures of the inside of a corpse, left lying half-haphazardly on the M.E.'s desk when Gibbs had stormed into Autopsy with a group of sheepish-looking people in tow.

Ducky hurried to stuff them into a random drawer, mustering a forceful smile at the guilty-looking little girl. "Don't worry about it." He reassured her, noting how she was looking shyly up at him, hands behind her back. "Curiosity is not a sin."

"But it killed the cat." She completed his meant-to-be-finished sentence. Ducky's lips curved up and he accessed her with a more attentive eye. She was an impressively intelligent child, and he was enjoying her company more and more. He could see why she'd made such an impression on Gibbs' team.

Jimmy was staring a little as Mary wandered around staring at nothing and everything. "I guess I understand why Tony got so attached to her." He pondered. Ducky thought of how fast news travelled in the building.

The older man tilted his head in agreement while he sat on his chair, approving of Palmer's train of thought. "Yes. She is quite an interesting child." He paused, his mind bringing up images of Tony's pensive behavior as of late. "And I think Anthony is already aware of it."

Abby's stance was beginning to more than unnerve McGee. Now that Mary was gone, he didn't have the excuse of babysitting the little girl as a protection, or as a reason not to speak with the forensic scientist.

God knew what Tony and Ziva were doing at the moment (he was blissfully unaware, taking full advantage of the whole plausible deniability package) and, given the chance, he had eagerly offered to take Mary off Abby's hands, when Ziva had led him to the lab. He'd brought her to the precinct with him before Abby could open her mouth in protest, relishing that his companion was an oblivious little girl who wouldn't ask him questions he didn't want to answer, preferring to munch on cookies and make drawings in the quiet that he needed and she appreciated.

But now, there was no eight-year-old-shaped shield in front of him, and Abby was more than free to begin her attack.

"McGee!" She commanded, stomping her foot and demanding that he be brought to her side with her voice alone. Her narrowed eyes prompted him to comply, and he stood up warily. Once he made his way to her, she flung her arms around his neck and crushed his ribs with the force of her hug.

"Abby!" He choked out, his voice portraying the first bit of emotion since the forest that wasn't shortened and/or clipped. "I- I c-could use the… the air..." The last word was a wheeze of his last breath of oxygen.

She eventually stepped back, allowing him to wincingly rub his chest as he enjoyed the opportunity to breathe again. Only then did he notice her tears, and his arm dropped limply to his side - he grimaced sourly.

He didn't want this, for her or for him. It was too late for the latter, but he could prevent the first. He realized her hand was still grasping his arm, and his eyes were drawn to it – but that only made her grip it harder. So his gaze was reluctantly pulled back to her face, and her resolute expression was almost enough for him to start spouting everything he was trying to keep from her.

Almost.

"What do you w-" Her glare warned him it was unwise to finish that sentence the way he wanted to. "Abby…" He pleaded, almost imploringly.

She didn't budge. "I had to find out through Ziva, who found out through Gibbs, that you were hit with some kind of curse. What happened, McGee?" She begged, less insistent and more desperate. The fact that she wasn't babbling told him that she wasn't okay, and that he better explain. Abby only spoke normally whenever she was too freaked or too stressed to start up her word-machine-gun.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and this time not because of Abby's hugging tendencies. He was feeling whirl-winded, and from the way Abby's tears suddenly picked up in pace and size, it was showing on his face.

He couldn't answer. He had no way of doing so. For once, Abby seemed to understand the lack of need for words. She threw her arms around him, and McGee let himself accept her comfort. The stiffness of his limbs faded, and there was a warmth in the prickling of his eyes that made him fear tears if he opened them.

"It was really bad, huh?" Her quiet voice was worse than the tears that her shock and worry had now dried up.

He didn't answer. He had a feeling he didn't have to, and that she already knew anyway. And he didn't want to describe it. It was bad enough that he knew what it was like himself, but he found himself not-so-secretly glad that she cared and worried.

He'd never felt anything like it before, and he had no intention of feeling it again. He'd never been tortured (never even came close to a situation where that was a possibility) and yet he had been hit with such a spell like it was common currency. For no other reason at all but to cause pain. That had been a first too.

As if sensing his thoughts, Abby squeezed him tighter. He needed her right then. She'd always been enough to help him clear his thoughts, to help him make sense of things, and he was desperately lacking that at the moment.

Even without her trying, he could feel himself relaxing just from her touch. Her reassurance made it a little easier to breathe – he was even beginning to experience the first bits of embarrassment at the way he was pitifully moaning over a curse.

That meant he was feeling better, and that was rather okay by him. He hugged her back.

"Aw, look at them, Ziva. It's like he's trying to get Gibbs to murder him in cold blood."

McGee sighed a little, wincing as he felt Abby's hands tightening on his back.

He looked up in time to see Ziva hitting Tony's arm, while the Italian's smile vanished at the look on Abby's face. He glanced from the Goth's red rimming to the junior agent's avoiding eyes, and then settled with a sigh, sitting on his chair. Ziva followed his lead and cautiously sat down herself, keeping half a wary eye on the three other people in the bullpen.

"Though I get why it's so hard to avoid being crushed in one of Abby's hugs." Tony half-glanced at McGee before focusing on whatever was on top of his desk as if his attention had never wavered. It was his way of apologizing, and McGee would take what he could get.

"I think you need to be reminded of that." Abby challenged, taking a threatening step toward him with her eyes narrowing in foredoom. Lips twitching up, he saw Ziva visibly relaxing at the tension leaving the bullpen. Tony leaned back from her nervously and they were right back to normal.

"Where have you two been anyway?" McGee asked, mustering up annoyance to start covering for his unusually emotionless behavior of the last few hours.

"None of your business." Tony said flippantly, almost as if automatically.

Ziva rolled her eyes. "We went to get something for Mary to eat. Just because we like living off coffee, does not mean an eight-year-old does." She explained, and McGee had a hard time not noticing how her eyes seemed a little brighter when she spoke about the little girl. Neither did he fail to notice her gaze flickering to her partner's quirking lips.

He didn't know. He didn't want to know. That had always been his motto when it came to the two of them. Except, lately, there was a lot more not to know, and that was starting to leave him apprehensive. Well, at least it was keeping his mind off less pleasant things.

And there went that.

He forcibly sat down and was surprisingly unsurprised when Abby automatically plopped down on the edge of his desk too.

And waited.

"Right." He cleared his throat after a while of Abby's silence-filling blabber. "What are we supposed to write in the report, again?" He asked, eyeing the tiny figures of a computer game Tony was sweating over (and losing) and Ziva mindlessly checking her e-mail.

Ziva managed to get half-a-shrug in before Gibbs strolled into the squad-room and gave him the answer. "Nothing."

Jenny followed him quietly, and McGee spared her a hesitant look before refocusing on his boss. "Nothing?"

"Don't question it, McGee!" Tony cried, indignant. His game had been hastily shut down, and now he was paying full attention at what was going on around him. "My God, I bet you asked for homework as a kid." He said, letting the horror multiply to an indecent extent on his face.

"What's wrong with that?" The junior agent questioned, defensively.

Any answer Tony's opening mouth might have given was muted by the look Gibbs gave him.

"C'mon, Timmy," Abby scolded instead, undeterred in the knowledge that Gibbs wouldn't do a thing to her. "who likes the homework kid?"

"I always did my homework." Ziva narrowed her eyes, not in Abby's direction, but in Tony's. "Why, would that be a problem?"

"Why are we talking about homework, again?" Tony wisely and hastily interrupted the subject flow.

"'Cause you're idiots who should be getting Mary off Ducky's hands." Gibbs informed them. How he knew Ducky had her, they'd never know.

"I'll get her." Jenny offered, interrupting whatever Tony was about to reply.

Silence followed. Tony's eyes flickered to Gibbs, who was looking down with an unseen smirk, and then to Ziva, whose gaze was resting on her partner already.

Jenny decided to settle things once and for all then. She harrumphed, just barely refraining from stomping her foot, and her eye-roll told all of them that an informal (meaning, open) discussion of the issues they so obviously had with her was about to start.

"I don't bite." She stated flatly, and before Tony had had the time to make an apologizing crack on that, she had already ploughed on. "And I'll tell you the same I told Gibbs, without all the silent glares and details – I did what I had to do according to my country's laws and my obligations to it and them. So now," She continued pointedly, not allowing any interruptions. "I will get the little girl down in autopsy and there isn't going to be anyone with problems regarding it, nor is anyone going to try and stop me."

And she turned, walking off in the direction of the elevator that would lead them downstairs, looking perfectly calm and composed, and not at all like her loyalties and ability to be trusted had just been questioned. Tony was dying to make either a wisecrack or a reference, but he refrained (nearly biting his tongue) at the look Gibbs was giving him.

However, she didn't make it far. Abby was arm-spread, right in front of her and back to the entrance in Jenny's path, and she wouldn't let her pass, sporting a steely and non-nonsense glare. "You are not going anywhere," She said imperiously. "without a group hug."

Abby immediately held a premature finger to her lips to quench anyone's future protests. The narrowed eyes and resolved expression promised force to anyone who failed to comply with her orders. Since she knew they would never join her willingly, she took the time to drag each of them (even Gibbs – she had guts) out of their chairs, and forcibly pull their arms around each other.

She had to keep her hand tightly on Gibbs and Jenny to keep them from fleeing. It lasted two seconds, and it was so awkward that Tony didn't even have it in him to mock anything about it. Gibbs' glower wasn't cheerful either - that whole description of the event was probably not very encouraging to the forensic scientist.

But Abby was still not satisfied, apparently, so the team leader sighed, giving up, and pulled her to his chest, dropping a light kiss to her cheek. She seemed happier, and Tony was astonished at the touchy-feeling way his boss was behaving (he knew that he did that a lot, but always when he was alone with the Goth, and never so blatantly in front of his team).

Jenny's features were softened by that as she walked away before anyone else attempted to prevent that. Abby shrugged, bubbly as ever, blew a kiss to McGee and trailed after her, catching the elevator just in time.

For his part, Gibbs thought it was only much-too-intense care for Abby that had kept him quiet and in place for the stupidest two seconds of his life. He was… glad, that Abby considered him family, but he was not like her when it came to showing it. And that didn't improve his mood in any way. So he sat back down as soon as he could.

Tony regained their focus in his most flamboyant manner (the usual one). "Okay. Now that that's over." And he cheerfully strolled out of the bullpen in the opposite direction of the two women that had just left, before Gibbs could stop him.

As soon as he disappeared behind the alcove, McGee immediately spoke. "He's too happy. He's having-" McGee stopped abruptly. "You know." He managed weakly, gesturing vaguely in an unknown gesture.

Gibbs was sure that, if Ziva hadn't been so intent on the gestured invitation Tony had so obviously (though in what the senior agent called a covert manner) made to her on his way out, she would have said something to that. Sometimes, he wondered if his junior agent was as oblivious as he appeared, or if McGee tried so hard to pretend he didn't notice anything, that the young man actually didn't notice anything.

"Uh-huh." Gibbs didn't let his blank face show any interest in the subject as he stared unseeingly at a random sheet he was definitely supposed to know the contents thereof. (Of course, the lack of reaction might have had something to do with the fact that he'd just spotted Ziva would-be-inconspicuously slipping out of the bullpen. Gibbs knew exactly what DiNozzo was having.) "And you care, because?"

He slipped after the reminder of his team without waiting for McGee's flustered answer to his rhetorical question. He had two idiots to deal with.

A\N: All in all, I think I'm not doing too bad. This IS my first author's note of the whole story, so… bear with me a little? (I feel so hopeful about that and everything).

Anyway, this note came about because, for the first time, I needed one. When and if you get to the bottom of this, you'll realize that I have a… minor, tendency to ramble, and, because of that (and also because I'm on my second paragraph and haven't said anything of importance) I avoid these things as much as possible.

Reason for this A\N (finally): this chapter has become WolfReinMoon's birthday present! :D It was yesterday, and it's late, but, still, what kind of person would I be if I didn't make a shout-out to my most supportive reader/reviewer/awesomeness-in-person?! :DDDD

On another note, since she/he has been the only reviewer I can't PM back, Too Lazy To Sign: thank you! :D I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

Lastly, I'd like to say that, though I haven't addressed you much (at all), that doesn't mean I don't appreciate every hit I get. :D You guys have been wonderful with reviews, favs, follows, and everything, and I just hope I'm living up to your expectations. THANK YOU!