They stand around the hole in the ground. They stand in silence, around an expensive casket. Abby stares at the ground, avoiding his wife's glance. Gibbs stands next to her. Ducky stands next to him, complete with a bowtie. Palmer stands between Ducky, and Tony. Ziva stands next to Tony, wearing a black dress. They barely speak throughout the service. They give their condolences, and go their separate ways.

She carefully descends the staircase. She stops, and the bottom stair, and just looks at him. He carefully sands a piece of wood.

Without looking up he asks, "Are you going to stand on the stairs all day?"

"I don't know why I'm here," she admits.

"Because you want me to tell you what to do."

"What should I do?"

"I can't tell you that," he smiles. He looks up at her, and motions for her to come forward.

"But I wish that you could."

"If I could, you know that I would."

"What are you working on?"

"You'll know soon enough."

"Another boat?" she inquires.

"Nope."

"A casket?"

"No."

"What is it?"

"I'll let you see it when I'm done."

"When will that be?"

He shrugs, "I don't know. Abby, why are you here?"

"I need you to tell me that everything will be ok."

"I can't tell you that."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know that. I can hope that everything will be ok. I will do every thing in my power to make it ok."

"But?"

"But I can't promise that everything will be ok, because I don't know that."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm scared. What is going to happen? I can't do this on my own."

"You can do anything that you set your mind to, you always have."

"What if I don't want to?"

"You might not have a choice."

"I am having a baby."

"I know."

"With McGee."

"I know."

"And he might go to prison. How am I supposed to raise a child, his child, on my own? How am I supposed to work the hours that I work, and take care of a baby? It's impossible. I love my job. I don't want to give that up. I don't want to feel guilty, about not doing everything that I possibly can. I just feel like I can't win. I am still too selfish to do this. I am to immature to do this. What if I can't do this?"

"Do you want out of this? Abby I can't make this all better. I can't fix this. You know that."

"I'm not asking you to. I am just asking you what I am supposed to do."

"Figure out how to do this on your own. Maybe you won't have to, but... you have to figure it out."

"How?"

"There are other jobs in the world."

"I don't want to leave NCIS. It's like my family. I need you guys more now, than ever."

"Abby even if McGee isn't in the picture, you're never going to be alone, in this. You will always have someone there to help you. We will all help you."

"I thought that I'd find you here," he smiles, as he slides onto the barstool next to her.

"I am that predictable?"

"You are, to me."

"What are you doing here?"

"Trying to keep you from starting down a slippery slope."

"What slippery slope?"

"The one that I know you're considering careening down, tonight."

"I am not."

"Really? That is not ginger ale," he points to her glass.

"No, it's not. And, it is not any of your business."

"How many have you had?"

"It's three o'clock in the afternoon," she points out.

"Answer the question," he insists.

"This is my first," she admits.

"The bartender will attest to that?"

"Yes," she nods, "She will also attest to the fact that I have not drank any of it, yet."

"Are you planning on it?"

"Maybe," she shrugs.

"Don't close up. Let me in. You never talk about it. I never bring it up. I know your secret, no matter how hard you try to hide it. I know you. I will support you. I am not going to let you make a stupid decision, like this."

"It's my life," she huffs.

"Says the alcoholic in the room."

She rolls her eyes, but says nothing.

"You aren't going to argue?"

"How can I?"

"You tell me."

"I know my limits. I know my weaknesses. I know that sometimes I use the wrong coping mechanisms. I know me, better than anyone."

"You were in a really low place after Somalia."

"What are you, my shrink?"

"No. You would never go to a shrink."

"Shows how much you know."

He furrows his brow. "What did you say?"

"I have gone."

"To a shrink?" he probes.

She nods.

"I meant other than for mandatory psych evaluations."

"So did I."

He takes the drink in front of her, and swallows it whole.

"Why did you do that?"

"I am just saving you, from yourself."

"I don't need saving."

"Sometimes you do, and you don't even know it. You would never admit it, even if you did. The thing is, I will always save you, even when you don't want to be saved."

"Why is that?"

He changes the subject, "How long has it been?"

"Since?"

"You know."

"Over a year."

"Meetings?"

"They are too time consuming."

"Ziva," she scolds.

"But I go, anyway. I run, and I go to meetings. It's how I deal."

"So why are you here?"

"Because the world is a screwed up place."

"Yes, it is."

"And I realize it more, each day."

"Everything happens for a reason," he reminds her.

"What reason?"

"To make us stronger."

"I do not want to be any stronger."

"So we can learn from our mistakes."

"Haven't we learned enough?"

"Maybe we should make a few more, before we decide."

"I should probably drive you home," she smirks.

"I had one drink."

"You can never be too careful."

"I'll make sure that I brush my teeth, twice, and I'll swish with mouthwash. I don't want to tempt you."

She laughs, as they leave the bar.