Abby wandered into the basement, bored. Gibbs was asleep, but she wasn't tired. She should be exhausted, only having had No-Caf-POW! for the entire day. She trailed her fingertips over the sanded ribs of the boat. She drifted to the underside of the wooden stairs, noting the difference in care. Idly wondering how strong she was, she grasped the back edge of a step and attempted to heave herself upward. Her arms protested, especially the one in the cast. She jumped and managed to hold herself off the floor for a few extra microseconds, ignoring the pain. She tried again. And again. And again.

Eventually she worked herself to a point of exhaustion and dusted her hands on her hips. Holding back a gasp of pain, Abby carefully inspected her hand. There! A miniscule sliver, stuck in her finger. She carefully went up to Gibbs' room and knocked on the door.

"Gibbs? Are you awake?" He opened it a few seconds later.

"What's up, Abbs?"

"Do you have tweezers?" She showed him her finger, now slightly red from the agitation. He stepped past her to the bathroom and dug out a pair of tweezers from the depths of one of the drawers. He rinsed them under scalding hot water and brought Abby's hand close to his face. Sighing, he told her to wait there. He came back wearing his glasses and scowled good-naturedly at her grin. He inspected her wound and quickly pulled the small piece of wood free. She jumped at the pain, smiling when he put on a Band-Aid and kissed it.

"Now then." He folded his arms across his chest. "How did it get there?" Abby winced internally. She figured this would be coming, but couldn't think up a good lie.

"I was just trying to work on your boat…" She stopped at the look on his face. "I tripped?" She tried again. "Okay, I tried to do a pull-up on the back of the basement stairs." She sighed, rubbing the upper section of her cast and looking at her feet. Gibbs groaned and crooked a finger for her to follow him. She stopped at the doorway to his room and watched him pull a small pill container from the drawer of his bedside table. She took the pain meds and went to lie down in the guest room.

The next day was fairly normal. Abby griped about her arm being broken, the itchiness of the cast, having to take medication, not getting caffeine, having to keep her music quiet, pretty much anything she could get away with.

Gibbs had just come back from getting coffee and No-Caf-POW! to find the lab deserted.

"Abby?" He called, setting the drinks on a table. "Abby?"

"Down here." She whimpered. He found her curled in a fetal position by the plasma screen.

"Abby, what's wrong, what happened?"

"I just got…" She took a deep breath. "Really dizzy. So." Another breath. "So I put my … head between … my knees … I don't … know if it's … working." Gibbs quickly called Ducky on his cell phone.

"Duck, need you in Abby's lab." He said as soon as the man picked up the phone. He shut the phone and placed a hand on Abby's shoulder while she focused on breathing.