I awoke with a start, my heart thudding rapidly in my chest. My eyes snapped open and I stared around the room, not understanding what had happened, waiting to remember where I was, until - smack - it hit me like a train, Gibbs… NCIS… Tony…Abby…McGee…Ducky…wait Ducky? The bruises! Crap.

It all came back. I propelled myself up, my body protesting angrily. I was breathing heavily now, it all seemed like so much. How was I supposed to explain this? I barely understood everything that had happened, and now I have to organize it, shuffle it around, relive it in order for it to make sense to other people? I couldn't do that, couldn't do that, couldn't do that…

I realised I was shaking and at once, I knew that if I didn't calm myself down I'd be in serious trouble. Okay, think … How to calm down? What do I want? What do I need to do right now?

My stomach growled deeply as if on cue, suddenly reminding me of a more primitive requirement – one that I hadn't enforced for days, and I latched on to the feeling.

Find something to eat first, panic later. My new motto, I thought grimly as I waited patiently for my heartbeat to slow.

A couple minutes later, I headed downstairs, thinking about how nice it would be to shower first, but knowing that I'd be much more likely to collapse than to do any cleaning if I didn't find something to eat.

I hesitantly poked my head around the wall, checking to see if anyone was there; but it was all clear, and so I headed off in what I hoped was the direction of the kitchen.

Ha, success! And also empty…Gibbs must be out. After a few minutes of raiding Gibbs' cupboards – which is ordinarily something I would have felt extremely awkward about under any other circumstances, but in that moment I was too hungry to care – and another minute or so at the tap, gulping down large quantities of cold water, I was finally able to settle down at the table with a huge bowl of cereal.

I don't think I even noticed what brand or anything, I basically a half starved animal at that point, shovelling down spoonful after spoonful of … Cheerio's?... Muesli? … Even helping myself to a second and third bowl.

When I was done, I left the bowl in the sink along with the spoon.

I'll clean that up later; my stomach sinking slightly at the thought of later…

I could feel my panic levels rising. Concentrate, Emily, one thing at a time? What's next?

Showering, in fact, was next on the list of my priorities, and it's what I did. I had noticed – before leaving my room earlier – a neatly folded up towel sitting on a wooden chair.

After chancing a smell and detecting the scent of washing powder; I assumed it to be clean and brought it with me into the bathroom.

Showering took me about forty minutes – quite a bit longer than usual because I had to account for (and avoid further aggravating) the number of injuries I had recently acquired. But I still hadn't taken as long as I'd expected myself to be. I dried myself off but abruptly stopped short at the realisation that the only clothes I had were the ones I'd spent the last two days in.

I groaned, what the hell was I going to do now?

Okay, don't panic. You'll be fine. I told myself, as with the towel still wrapped securely around me, I stepped into the room I suspected to be Gibbs'. I checked first to make sure it was indeed a Gibbs free zone, and then sneaked my way like a burglar in an old fashioned movie over to the wardrobe.

Upon opening it, I was greeted by the sight of – you guessed it – clothes! T-shirts, a couple of jumpers, socks, boxers… I rolled my eyes at the absurd urge I had to laugh.

I glanced worriedly up at the shirts, eyeing them as if they had the ability to unexpectedly wriggle loose of their coat-hangery prisons and pounce at me, suffocating me for ever daring to disturb them in the first place – No that's enough, I told my imagination sternly.

We have quite a few things to be frightened of without adding 'clothes' to that list.

I took a deep breath, glanced behind me for good measure, feeling as though Gibbs could easily have sneaked up on me without me noticing, and then grabbed a black t-shirt, a pair of socks, a pair of boxers… I hate this, I was aware of thinking as I picked them up.

Hard part over, I then pretty unashamedly rooted though his draws searching for a wearable pair of pants, overlooking the jeans and going straight for the black sweatpants, praying they'd fit me.

I then headed back to 'my' room, shutting the door behind me. I'd momentarily considered getting dressed in Gibbs' room, but I knew I'd be too terrified of him returning without me hearing.

I threw the towel on the bed and as quickly as I could whilst minding not to cause myself unnecessary pain, shoved the t-shirt on over my head, pulled on the underwear (turning them inside out for good measure), shimmied my way into the sweatpants, and put on the socks.

I looked at myself in the mirror on top of the cabinet, and was pleasantly surprised to see that I did not look like hell in a hand basket as I had previously suspected. The pants were a little loose, but didn't look too bad, the same with the shirt.

My face, on the other hand, was a different story. I moved closer to the glass to get a better look. I recoiled as I inspected the bruise that I had gotten from Gibbs, the memory flooding back. My entire cheek was a purplish/blue splodge. I groaned at the prospect of walking around looking like that…Makeup can only do so much.

I met the grey eyes of my reflection and studied myself for a moment longer, just staring; my eyes after a moment moving to my usually brown hair, now a near black and sodden wet. I noticed it was making the front of my Gibbs' shirt wet, and sighed, grabbing my towel again and proceeding to dry it the best I could, making a mental note to find a damn bobble as soon as possible.

Then I returned to the kitchen to make good on my promise to clean the bowl I had used. I had just finished drying it and putting it away (along with the spoon), when there came the sound of a key in the lock, alerting me to someone at the front door. I froze, listening intently.

I could only assume that it was Gibbs – please let it be Gibbs – but just in case, I hastily snatched up the knife that had been lying on the table in front of me, and I crept along keeping parallel to the wall and making sure to keep well out of the front door's line of sight. I was still straining to hear, but my heartbeat was making it increasingly difficult to detect sound.

The front door opened, which I heard only because of the slight creak it emitted, whoever it was who entered seemed to be moving around incredibly silently. The panic was swelling in my chest. I held my breath. I didn't know what to do. I was gripping the handle of the knife extremely tightly, desperately hoping not to have to use it.

And then.

Footsteps. Quiet and soft, but they seemed to be heading towards the kitchen. My stomach dropped. I had to keep a clear head, the last thing I wanted to do was overreact and accidentally kill an NCIS officer in his own home.

I had a few seconds until whoever it was would step into the kitchen, and so I did the only thing I could think of that would leave me enough time to fully analyse the situation. I took a step back, and then one step out so that I was visible from the doorway. I had my good arm half outstretched in a defensive position, ready to push away any possible attackers.

My heartbeat was thundering along, my shoulder was beginning to ache from how tense I was. I was deathly afraid of who I'd see around the corner, but I had thrust myself out only to lock eyes with Tony.

There was a split-second pause, with DiNozzo, wide-eyed, his gaze flickering to the knife in my hand, and then at me. I blinked, my hand automatically letting go of the knife, the sweet feeling of relief once again overtaking me as I all but barrelled towards him and enveloped him in a hug.

He gave a slight yelp of surprise as I all but flew into him.

"What's wrong?" He questioned, sounding concerned, but wrapping his arms around me all the same. "Are you okay?"

"I heard someone at the door…I didn't … I picked up the knife just in case…" I mumbled, trembling a little from the all too recent adrenaline high. I pulled away.

"Oh," he responded, looking guilty, "well, I thought you'd be asleep still, so I was trying to be quiet."

I let out a small exhale. "It's okay. I'm just glad it's you and not some deranged lunatic."

He nodded serenely, eyes glinting. "I've heard that from many women." He then shifted his gaze to the knife lying on the floor. "Interesting choice of weapon. Very Scary Movie-esque."

I rolled my eyes, "What can I say? It was a difficult choice between that and the spoon I just put away." I was grateful for the opportunity to lighten the mood, but then I remembered that I had questions to ask.

"So what are you doing here? And where's Gibbs?" I queried, earning an amused look from the agent.

"Curious now, I see?" He grinned impishly.

I narrowed my eyes in irritation, the adrenaline giving me a little extra confidence, "Curious enough to beat it out of you." I murmured.

He chuckled, but continued all the same. "Well, since our fearless leader is stuck at NCIS, I have been assigned the task of coming here with this…" he motioned to a black bag lying beside him on the floor, he'd seemingly dropped it there when I'd almost attacked him with a knife.

I gave him a scathing look. "And what's in the bag?" I prompted.

"Someone's impatient today," he tutted.

I folded my arms and groaned. "I could have just looked in the bag about five times already you realise?"

He raised his eyebrows, feigning innocence "Well, I'd gladly tell you what's in the bag if I thought you needed them" he started "but it looks like you've already found yourself quite the outfit already…"

I pulled a face, "I'd just showered…I had nothing else to wear!" I shot him my fiercest glare and deliberately pronounced each word slowly and delicately – "Are there clothes I can wear in the bag?"

"Why yes there are, however did you know? But before we get to that, I have a question…"

I sighed, nodding.

"Even the underwear?" He asked, eyes shining in amusement.

I felt my face heat up.

Tony laughed.

"Don't tell him!" I pleaded desperately. "Tony, promise you won't tell Gibbs?!"

There was the sound of the door closing behind us,

"Tell Gibbs what?" Came a gruff voice.

I felt my eyes widen at Tony. I'm pretty sure my face was burning up.

He looked at me and then looked back at Gibbs somewhat longingly, hesitated and then rushed out a semi-convincing "Nothing boss."

I let out a sigh, closing my eyes in relief, before turning around to face Gibbs.

"Tony said you were stuck at NCIS?" I said shooting a sideways glance at DiNozzo, wondering if he'd been pulling my leg about that too…

"I was, but then I came here to get you." He responded simply, his eyes sweeping over the knife on the floor, before returning to me.

I rubbed the back of my neck self-consciously. "Get me for what?" I asked, not entirely certain that I wanted to know the answer.

"Ducky wants to take a look at you." He motioned to my stomach. "And we have some questions for you."

My voice seemed to have dried up, "N-now?" I managed to choke out.

Gibbs nodded.

I looked at Tony for assistance, hoping he could stall. He caught my eye and shook his head. "I know you want to put off going back to NCIS," he said understandingly, "but it's important that we get everything straightened up."

I understood that well enough, but it didn't mean I was at all happy about it.

"Have you eaten?" Gibbs queried.

"Yeah." I shifted nervously, suddenly feeling a little queasy. "I also had to borrow some of your clothes after I showered, um, I hope that's okay…" I let the sentence drop, avoiding Gibb's eyes. Damn it, I was turning red again.

But then I heard a chuckle. Raising my head curiously, I saw that Gibbs was still staring at me, but his expression was one of amusement. Tony had that impish grin back too.

I frowned, my face still flushed.

After a moment, Gibbs shook his head, "Don't worry about it," he assured me, continuing to observe me with small traces of humour still left in his expression. "I meant to leave you a message telling you to help yourself to anything you might need anyway."

Still feeling incredibly awkward and all too eager to change the subject, I nodded. "I guess we should be getting going then?"

I moved past Gibbs towards the front door. I was just stepping outside when I heard Gibbs say something to DiNozzo. I listened closely, hoping to catch the next sentence.

"Even the underwear?" Gibbs muttered curiously to DiNozzo.

Tony spluttered a laugh, hastily turning it into a cough that would've given McGee a run for his money as I turned back to shoot them a glare.

"Hey boss, she's damn near got the Gibbs stare down." I heard Tony chuckle.

I almost growled.

Being back at NCIS, feeling fully rested and not half as terrified isn't too bad, I mused to myself as we waited for the elevator. We were on our way to the morgue to see Ducky; a place Tony had seemed oddly hesitant about me visiting, but I assured him that I didn't mind.

If anything I was morbidly curious.

The elevator announced its presence with a slight ding, and I stepped in, Gibbs and Tony following behind. Gibbs selected the floor for what I assumed to be the morgue, and then Tony stepped forwards and pressed the button I remembered to be for Abby's lab.

I frowned. He wasn't coming? I was suddenly markedly more afraid, my stomach sinking. I wanted to ask him to stay, something I was still working up the courage to do when his stop came. The lift doors opened to reveal the corridor leading to the lab.

"Wait…" I blurted, before he had even begun to move out.

"Everything okay?" He glanced at me, looking concerned.

"Could you…stay? Just for this?" I asked, feeling extremely awkward.

DiNozzo shifted his gaze towards Gibbs, silently asking permission.

Gibbs just raised his eyebrows, and then shrugged. "Sure DiNozzo can stay unless he has anything more important to attend to?"

Tony shook his head, the famous grin back in place "Not anything I can't attend to later, boss. You know me, always working and all."

He stayed put and the doors slid closed once more. The elevator started up again, and I looked up at Tony. He sensed my gaze. "Thanks." I muttered.

He nodded, smiling. "De nada."

"Hey Ducky!" Tony announced as we walked through the automatic doors. Geeze it's chilly in here, I thought, instinctually going to fold my arms in an attempt to preserve body heat, before remembering my injury and instantly relaxing them back by my side.

I'm sure that looked natural.

I looked around at the steel medical tables, finding myself simultaneously relieved and disappointed to discover they were empty.

"Tony, Jethro – and ah! Emily, I hope you're feeling better?" His asked, eyes scanning my face. I noticed him grimacing slightly in sympathy as he took in the discolouration from the bruise.

"I'm feeling better," I replied, "I also meant to thank you for helping me yesterday." I said with a small smile, "but I guess I was more tired than I realised."

Ducky returned the smile, shaking his head kindly "No m'dear, no need to thank me. I'm just glad I could help." Then his expression grew a little bit more serious. "Now," he said, "If you'd be so kind as to lie here," he motioned to the steel table closest to him. It was the only one, I saw, that had a small pillow for neck support.

Oh no, I do not like this. "Do I have to lie down?" I asked, feeling very hesitant about doing so.

"I'm afraid so, but it should just take a moment." He replied reassuringly.

Tony shot me a comforting expression and I reluctantly hopped up on the platform and lay down.

The metal proved to be about as uncomfortable as it was cold and clinical. I felt way too exposed. With my first instinct being to sit up, I was having trouble staying put. I didn't like my sudden restricted view.

Suddenly, Gibbs ringtone went off. I raised my head to see him motion at Ducky, and walk out of the room to take the call.

I used Gibb's exit as an excuse to try to raise myself to a sitting position.

However, Ducky, whose attention had previously been on Gibbs, turned back to me. He raised an eyebrow expectantly and I groaned quietly, but lowered myself back down on the table.

"That's better," Ducky nodded appreciatively, "now if you could just roll up your shirt so I can see the extent of the bruising, we can soon have you on your way."

I did as instructed, wincing as my back made contact with the ice cold metal table.

Tony let out a low whistle as the bruises caught the light, "What happened for you to get those?" He asked gently.

Ducky came a little closer, and began feeling lightly around the area, focusing his attention on the left hand side of my stomach for the time being.

I repressed the urge to sit up, instead settling for turning my head in the direction of Tony's voice. "There were a couple of guys that turned up before you, Gibbs and McGee." I began; I was all too aware of Ducky's ministrations and couldn't help tensing up.

It showed in my voice.

Tony moved a little closer so that I could see him better. He nodded at me encouragingly to continue.

I took a deep breath and tried my best to concentrate on what I was saying. "Um, it was pretty late… I'd been out walking for around ten minutes when I noticed these two guys heading straight towards me… There wasn't really anyone else around, so I thought it best to turn around and go another way, which I did," I added, taking a breath before continuing.

"I crossed the street so that I was on the other side, and headed down a side lane, but when they appeared at the top of the road, I knew for sure that I was in trouble. I basically just sprinted as fast as I could, but I dunno, I guess they were faster." I felt a pang of fear at this, I was reminding myself of things I didn't want to think about….

"They caught up to you?" Tony asked, his expression was blank, but his voice had an edge to it.

I nodded, "I'd been too busy running to realise that one of the guys had run around to cut me off, and so I basically ran headfirst into him." I said somewhat bitterly. I was still mentally kicking myself for that.

"He threw me down pretty hard, I think that's when I dislocated my shoulder…Then they started kicking and punching me…"

I cleared my throat, reluctant to continue, but forcing myself all the same. "Sometime during it they started talking about my parents, which why I didn't believe it was just a random attack…"

Suddenly, I was overcome by a memory. A man's voice accompanied by the click of a switchblade and the gleam of silver…

"I think one of them had a knife, he told me he was going to kill me…"

During my story, Ducky had been going very slowly and cautiously, but then almost without warning he touched upon a sore spot and I cried out, flinching violently away, somehow raising myself back to a sitting position.

"Em, are you okay?" Tony was closer than before, he put a reassuring hand on my good shoulder. I leaned slightly into him, but I was too busy glaring angrily at the medical doctor to answer, never mind register his new use of nickname.

The pain had subsided, but the shock of it was still very much alive.

Ducky looked apologetic. "I'm sorry." He said, but motioned back to the table all the same.

I sighed, lowering myself down again.

Ducky finished carefully checking the bruises on my left side without any major incident, and moved onto the right side. His fingers probed around, occasionally causing me to cry out every now and again, but I remained horizontal. When he'd finally finished, I realised two things: the first being that Gibbs had returned from his phone call, and the second being that sometime during the examination I'd started clutching onto Tony's arm.

"…yes, yes, Jethro, physically, everything is in perfect working order which is miraculous really, considering the ferocity of the attack –"

After reassuring me that I would live, Ducky had moved to the far corner of the room and was now conversing with Gibbs. I had surreptitiously positioned myself in a way that meant I could still hear snippets of the conversation from where I sat on the table. Tony was beside me, and I was somewhat aware that he was studying me every now and again in a curious manner, but I was too intent on my eavesdropping to fully take notice.

"– but psychologically," Ducky continued gravely, "…let's just say that the ordeal has no doubt taken a toll."

"Meaning?" Gibbs pressed.

"Trust, Jethro, trust." Ducky sighed, "I'd advise caution when pressing her for more information - push too hard and she'll shut down."

Gibbs made a move as if to glance over at where I was sat and I momentarily cast my eyes down to the floor, only chancing a look up when I heard the older agent speaking in a slightly lowered tone. I had to strain to hear it, and even then I only caught the name "…DiNozzo" phrased as though a question.

Ducky nodded: he had lowered his voice to match Gibbs' and so his next sentence was difficult to catch. "Yes, I'd suggest that letting Anthony handle … best course of action. She seems to have…."

But the rest of Ducky's words were drowned out by Tony, whose curiosity, it seemed, had suddenly gotten the better of him.

"How did you get away?"

Having been absorbed in Ducky and Gibb's conversation, I started at the question, and turned to see him watching me intently.

"I was lucky..." I replied simply, knowing I'd have to go into more detail, but feeling unwilling to.

"Lucky? Lucky how?" Tony pressed, looking puzzled.

I took a deep breath, a large part of me still curiously invested in the other conversation, but I forced myself to continue. He needed to know.

"There was someone else out walking that night - two friends I think, and I guess they heard me yelling and decided to investigate. Anyway, they stumbled upon the alley where I was having the crap kicked out of me and I don't remember much of the specifics, but one of them must have called out, maybe something about phoning the police, and that distracted the guys long enough for me to tear out of there as fast as I could."

"I'm sorry that happened to you…" He said gently, his eyebrows furrowed. "I guess it explains why you reacted the way you did with us."

I nodded, and then immediately a question of my own burned to the forefront of my mind. I glanced up at Tony, my own expression knitting into one of confusion. "Wait…what exactly did I do to attract the attention of NCIS in the first place?"

Tony raised his eyebrows, and let out a brief exhale. "Well" he began, taking a seat beside me on the table, "that was just your bog-standard mix up, I'm afraid. We'd been investigating a crime scene not too far from where you were, and one of the witnesses claimed they'd seen a white male emerge from the victim's house wearing a black hoodie, jeans, you know, the basic getup you'd associate with someone who didn't want to attract attention…" He cleared his throat, "…course at the time that just seemed like useless information, because well, it had the potential to be anyone, but then –"

" – but then you saw me." I finished up.

"Not so much saw," Tony disclosed, his voice low "…we actually got an anonymous tip informing us that there was an individual matching the witness's description a few blocks down heading away from the scene: when we caught up to you with the intention to talk, you immediately bolted, leaving us with no choice but to chase after you."

There was a heavy silence, in which Tony looked conflicted. He fidgeted a little with the collar of his shirt before continuing. "None of us had any idea that you were hurt, or, well, not a guy… otherwise we would have gone a little easier on the approach….I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry." He shifted his head sideways to look at me, his eyes touching over the bruise on my face.

I shook my head. "You don't need to apologise, you were only doing your jobs. Besides, Gibbs already beat you to it." I couldn't help the grin that spread across my features at the expression of pure disbelief blossoming across the young agent's face.

"The boss apologised?" Tony asked, seemingly awestruck. "Like, full on, actually said the words 'I'm sorry'?"

I nodded, "Yep." But Tony still seemed incredulous. I cocked my head in amusement. "You seem to have a hard time believing this."

Spluttering slightly, DiNozzo eventually managed to squeeze out a somewhat coherent sentence. "You haven't spent enough time around Gibbs to know what he's like when it comes to stuff like this. The boss-man has his own set of rules for things."

"Rules? Like for what?" I asked, puzzled.

"For everything: friends, enemies, you name it; even just miscellaneous things – rule number nine is don't go anywhere without a knife."

"So what's his rule about apologies?" I'm not usually one for gossip, but I had to admit this was pretty interesting.

Tony opened up his mouth to reply, but was beaten to it by the silver haired agent who I hadn't even realised had finished his conversation with the medical examiner (who was now nowhere to be seen).

"Rule number six: Never say you're sorry. It's a sign of weakness."

I felt myself frowning in disagreement at this. I also felt Gibbs' stare.

I pushed myself to say what I'd been thinking. "Not all the time."

It came out a little more defensively than I'd intended.

Gibbs didn't say anything, and his expression remained as unreadable as ever.

My frown deepened. "It depends on the situation. Right?" I directed at Tony, who had been silently and apprehensively observing the exchange between his boss and I.

"Well…I suppose context is always helpful," he began, cautiously eyeing Gibbs, "but boss' rules are meant as more of a guideline than anything else."

"Is that right, DiNozzo?"

Tony let out a loud nervous laugh, clearly unsure as how best to continue. Gibb's expression was leaning more towards amusement than anger, but I wasn't willing to place any firm bets either way.

"Well, I wouldn't steak my life on it." He chuckled uneasily, his thoughts seemingly running along the same line as mine.

Gibbs took a few steps towards the table until he was a little more than an arm's reach away, and then allowed the full force of his stare to fall on Tony. Man, he could be intimidating…

"I take it that you two were having an interesting talk?" Gibbs questioned with a small smile.

"Actually yeah…" Tony hopped off the table, work mode instantly activated. His nervousness gradually dissipating the more he spoke.

"Em was just telling me about the night that she was attacked, boss." Then he suddenly looked sheepish, "I was about to ask her if she saw enough of their faces for Abby to reconstruct for a BOLO, but then we got slightly off topic…"

I cast my mind back over our conversation and had to fight my face from betraying my amusement as I pinpointed the exact point Tony got side-tracked. Those Gibbs apologies must be rare.

Gibbs glanced at me, his eyes probing. "Do you?"

I don't know. "I can't make any promises, but I'll try." I answered grimly.

Gibbs seemed satisfied, he stepped back from the table, paused for a second and then threw his arms out. "Well DiNozzo, what are you waiting for?"

Tony all but jumped. "Right boss! To Abby's lab!"

The young agent turned to me, I got the impression he was having an internal debate as to whether or not I needed help getting off the table.

I laughed. "I have a few bruises, Tony. I'm not disabled." I hopped off the medical table to demonstrate.

He breathed a sigh of relief, but still looked embarrassed. "Sorry, I wasn't sure…"

We were headed towards the door, when all of a sudden Ducky reappeared out from what looked to be a filing room. He was carrying a few case files in his arms.

He looked up, noticed we were on our way out and called out – "Ah Emily, before you go! As a doctor, I feel compelled to advise you against doing any strenuous physical activity as it could worsen the injuries you've received thus far." He nodded mostly to himself, his innate urge to advise having now been sated.

"Don't worry, I won't" I assured him. Despite just a few days ago having had the strong desire to go swimming, I somehow wasn't really in the mood anymore. "Thanks again, Ducky."

He smiled, "Not a problem, my dear!"

On our way out, Tony hastily moved forwards to open the second set of not-so-automatic doors for me, but stopped short at my expression. "I know, I know, not disabled…" He rolled his eyes, grinning. "I was just being polite."

I mirrored his grin, whilst shooting him a sarcastic look. "I would never have pegged you as the polite type, Tony."

He opened his mouth; no doubt to devoutly defend his honour, when from the other room came a gruff "DiNozzo!"

"Yeah boss, going boss." Tony hurried out. I followed behind, smirking slightly.

Now standing in a Gibbs free environment, I gradually felt myself relax.

"Gibbs is… kinda terrifying…" I couldn't help admitting as we stepped into the elevator.

DiNozzo let out a laugh as he reached to press the button for Abby's lab, "Just kinda? I'm pretty sure he'd take that as an insult."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Yeah, I take that back. He's actually the scariest person I've ever met."

Tony grinned for a second. "Hell of a guy to have on your six though." He said, considering me seriously.

I had to agree.

Upon entering the lab, we were swiftly ambushed –although this time not by the overzealous forensic specialist, but by the deafening music that boomed from speakers on either side of the room.

Was something wrong? I looked at Tony for an explanation.

He caught my eye and grimaced. "Abby likes her music loud." He said – or more accurately, yelled.

Through a set of glass doors, the forensic scientist was visible.

She was staring at the computer screen, absorbed in her work, a sleek black pigtail wrapped around her fingers.

Tony strolled up to the automatic doors with a little too much gusto and almost crashed straight into them when they refused to open.

Incredibly, Abby was still completely unaware that she had visitors.

"Abby?!" Tony shouted, rapping on the glass door to grab her attention.

She started. "Oh! Hey guys!" She picked up a remote, pressed a button and the doors slid open.

"Sorry about the music!" She practically bounded into the main part of the lab and hit a button on the keyboard, silencing the music abruptly.

"Loud, huh?" She beamed.

"Just a touch, Abby, my brain is ringing." Tony said, thumping the side of his head with his hand.

"Aw Tony, I didn't know you had a brain!"

Tony frowned.

I laughed.

Abby grinned at me, and raising her eyebrows, looked from Tony to me expectantly.

"So, what can I do for you?"

"Well, Abs, we were hoping you could help us with a facial reconstruction?" Tony asked, absentmindedly fiddling with a bobble-head figure on the table in front of the keyboard that bore an uncanny resemblance to Agent Gibbs.

"A facial reconstruction? But of course – you have come to the right place."

"Thanks Abs," Tony said as he checked his phone. Suddenly, he let out a strangled cry. "Yeesh, that's a lot of unread messages from Gibbs." He looked anxiously at me; a silent question.

"Don't worry about it. I'll be fine here with Abby." I assured him.

Abby nodded enthusiastically.

He seemed somewhat reassured and nodded a rushed goodbye as he made his exit. "I'll be back as soon as I've dealt with whatever this is."

And then he was gone.

Abby turned to me, "So, you ready?"