She looks at the clock. 0545. On a normal day, she would already be out of bed. Today, was not a normal day. It was Saturday. Usually she would be out for a run. Today, she refused to get out of her bed. It was warm, and comfortable, and safe. She shifts in the bed, trying to get comfortable enough to go back to sleep.

"Go back to sleep," he mumbles.

She finally gets situated. Her head rests on his bare chest, and her arm is draped over his torso. His arm runs across her bare back, while his other arm rests beside him, on the edge of the bed. She closes her eyes, and falls back, into oblivion.

She wakes hours later. She rubs her eyes, and squints at the clock, through the sunlight. She realizes that she is alone in bed. This wasn't exactly how she pictured it happening. She rolls over, and pulls the covers tighter. She hears footsteps coming towards the doorway.

"Hey, sleepyhead. Are you going to get up, anytime soon? Breakfast is waiting."

Her eyes pop open, "You're still here?"

"Where did you think I was going to go?"

"Home."

"Home? No. Like you said, I already have a change of clothes here."

"But..."

"You figured that I would slink out of here, before you woke up, doing the walking of shame?"

She nods.

"Nope. I am not ashamed of anything that happened last night."

He sits in the basement, sanding. He swallows the liquor in his glass. He looks up, hearing the footsteps. He finds a figure standing at the top of the stairs.

"Are you coming down?" he asks.

"I haven't decided yet."

"Why are you here?"

"Because, I'm angry at you."

"You came to talk?"

"Yes," she admits, descending the stairs. When she reaches the bottom she starts moving towards him. She stops about a foot from him, and crosses her arms over her chest.

"What can I do, to make you less angry at me?"

"Nothing. It is beyond your control."

"Is there anything that I can do, to make it easier?"

"Tell me it's not my fault."

"Abby, it's not your fault."

"Then why do I feel like it is?"

He shrugs, "I don't know."

"If I hadn't... you never... and I wouldn't..."

"Abby, it wasn't your fault."

"Have you told anyone else, yet?"

"No."

"Are you going to?"

"No," he shakes his head.

"No? Gibbs, you have to."

"No. I don't."

"You don't think that they deserve to know?"

"Some things, are better left, unsaid."

"Really? Is that how you felt about..."

He cuts her off, "That was different."

"Not really. Too many things were left unsaid. Some things need to be said. We assume that people know how we feel. We can never know that, unless we tell them."

"I will not put everyone through that."

"Then why are you putting me through it? Why am I special?"

"You need more time. No matter how much time I give you, you will need more. I know that you will take longer. I didn't want you to be blindsided. I wanted you to have time to process."

"How much time?"

He shrugs, "I don't know. Abby, no one knows."

"Have you spoken to your father?"

"No..."

"You need to."

"Abby I have nothing to say."

"You have things to say, and you need to say them now."

"Ok. Anything else, that you want me to do?"

"There are lots of things."

"Like what?"

"Tell me that everything is going to be ok. Promise me that everything is going to work out," she stares at the concrete of the basement floor. His fingers slide under her chin. He tips her head up. Her eyes lock on his.

"You know that I want to, but I can't."

"I'm not ok with that."

"I know," he pulls her into a hug. Her arms hold on tightly, never wanting to let go.

He walks past her desk on Monday morning. She seems unusually quiet, and exhausted. He stops, and turns around. He stands in front of her desk, looking down at her. She looks up, making eye contact.

"Are you ok?" he asks her.

"Yes," she yawns.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm just tired."

"That's it? Something on your mind?"

"There is always something on my mind, Gibbs."

"Any thing, in particular?"

"How completely irritating Tony can be."

"What did he do now?"

"He keeps asking me about what I am going to name the baby."

"And?"

"I don't know. I would like to just make something up, to shut him up..."

"But?"

"I'm afraid that he would hold me to it."

"I see."

"Any suggestions?"

"On how to handle the situation?"

"On what to name the baby?"

"I think you should wait, until you meet it."

"Him," she corrects.

"Him?"

"Yes," she opens her drawer. She pulls out a picture and hands it to Gibbs. "I meant to give this to you, after my appointment on Friday."

"You don't have to."

"You should have it. He is yours, too."

"A boy?"

"Yes," she smiles, "A boy."

"You are just going to have to play his game, until you come up with a name."

"How?"

"Gender neutral names, it drives him crazy."

"Like, what? Alex?"

"Exactly."