Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS—damn, I wish I did, unfortunately Bellisarius has that claim—dang I still want Gibbs and Fornell, wouldn't mind an older Illya Kuryakin.

A/N: This is tagged to Yankee White i.e. Season One Episode One.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs stood, hands in pocket, in autopsy. Ducky was pacing back and forth, gathering items and jotting down information. Gerald walked in over and nodded to both men.

"I found Abby, she's on the way in," Gerald grinned.

Gibbs nodded, "Yeah, did you wake her up?"

He waited with baited breath. As much as he needed Abby, he felt slightly guilty about ever waking the Extra Special Forensic Scientist. Abby worked two to three hot cases a day. She worked somewhere around 15 to 20 hours a day. Sometimes she didn't go home. She slept under a desk in her lab.

Gerald shook his head, "No. I called her on her cell. Sounded like one PHAT party."

Gerald smirked at the other man as he walked out of autopsy carrying the Commander's uniform tightly wrapped in plastic. Gibbs blinked at the word usage before squinting at the meaning. Abby. Party. Abby at a party. Abby at a party, which meant boys, which meant boys around Abby, his Abby. His hands clenched before Gibbs forced himself to relax and focus.

"Find anything Ducky," he asked.

Ducky hemmed and hawed for a moment, "Nope, and I won't for hours," he lifted his new patients arms, "I've just begun examining the body for needle marks."

Gibbs frowned, "You think somebody stuck him?"

Ducky shrugged with a sigh, "I don't know."

"Anything on the uniform," Gibbs tried again not realizing his mistake.

"Not that I could see. I've sent it up to Abby," Ducky murmured.

It always came back to Abby. Abby who Gibbs was certain was probably just turning on her 'babies' and rallying them to the fight. Gibbs smothered the rising smile. Everything Abby did or said, usually made Gibbs smile or smirk or chuckle before he could stop himself.

Once again shaking himself free of Abby-Thoughts, Gibbs pointed at a spot on the body, "What's this?"

Ducky checked the spot, before sighing in exasperation. He didn't enjoy Jethro hovering when he could be hovering around someone who would enjoy it.

"A mole. Gibbs, go home. Get some sleep. I would if I could, this is gonna take all night. What's left of it."

Gibbs sighed, wandered over to the side table and picked up a roll of paper towels. Laying it down on a free table, Gibbs hopped onto the table and laid down, pillowing his head on the makeshift pillow. He gave a loud groan of relief. A frown crossed his face as he turned on his side and closed his eyes.

Something was bothering him though, "Ducky, why would Abby go to a 'fat' party," there was petulant note in his voice.

Ducky restrained his chuckle, "Get some sleep," the M.E. flicked the overhead lights off.

Despite the darkness and his exhaustion, Gibbs couldn't sleep. If things were right, he wouldn't be listening to Ducky work, he would be listening to Abby's boots click across her lab floor. She would tuck him into her futon and give him a kiss, turn off her music, maybe she would even light a few of her candles that smelled like sawdust. She would work, and hum a soothing song under her breath, check on him and give him instant updates. Gibbs moaned.

The problem with that wonderful scenario was that if Abby had gone to a party, Gibbs didn't want to smell anything but Abby on Abby. Well, maybe he wouldn't mind smelling a little extra sawdust and coffee on top of her signature gunpowder and sawdust perfume. A small smirk etched onto Gibbs' face. He started counting, not sheep, but Abby's tattoos. It never failed to lull him to sleep, and if he needed a little extra kick, wondered about the ones he'd never seen.

Please review, this is my frst try at an NCIS ficlet, perhaps not the last.