Chapter 1

Something wasn't right with Abby. That was a given.

Unfortunately, Tim was all too familiar with what it would mean to question Abby's mood. When she wasn't feeling well, or when something was bothering her, the best thing to do was to leave her alone. He had learned not to ask questions, and not to ask others for help. He might have the best of intentions, but she wouldn't care. Abby did not like interference. Tim was surprised that it wasn't one of Gibbs' rules.

Rule number fifty-one, he thought. Don't mess with Abby when the music is off. Maybe he'd send his boss a memo on that one. On the other hand, Gibbs knew her better than anyone else seemed to, so he probably had his own number for that rule.

Maybe she was just tired; Lord knew he was. The week had started early Sunday morning with a double homicide just outside the Quantico gate. They had spent all of the day – and well into the night – gathering and labeling evidence. He had photographed for more than nine hours, and he only hoped that he hadn't missed anything. Seven hundred twenty-six digital photos in all. Then once they had returned to the office, there were hours of logging and reporting to be done. Nobody had left the building before midnight, and Tim didn't think Gibbs had left at all. He knew that when they had finally ended their day, Abby had just been beginning hers.

She had been there the next day when he came back in to work. She had been there that night when he left. Tuesday morning she had been there, but she had been quieter. He wondered if she had gone home, or if she had just slept on the floor as she often did. He didn't have time to ask as he ran down leads and bumped into multiple dead ends.

On Wednesday, there had been no music. Checking with her in the lab for the results on yet another cheek swab on yet another suspect, he had noticed the absence of music and assumed she had finally gone home. She had not. As he had placed the specimen back in its bin, he had seen her working on something in the corner of her lab. At least, he had thought she was working. As he approached her, he had noticed that she wasn't moving at all. Her hands were still, her eyes were fixed on some imaginary point on the wall, and she gave no indication that she knew he was there. He'd had to call her name twice before she responded, and then she'd been groggy. Slow.

He had almost asked her then if she was okay, but he had stopped himself. Instead, he had asked her if she needed anything. She had merely shaken her head and signed for the evidence he had brought her, then she went back to her staring at the wall. After a moment, he had left her to her thoughts.

The case had taken an odd turn after that, and they had been something beyond busy as they followed a new course. New leads, new evidence, and even a new crime scene added its information to the first and they had to begin their hypothesizing again. Another day of questioning suspects, then there was cross-referencing it with the first interviews. It had been Friday before he'd made it back to her lab. The music had still been off, she'd still been nearly silent – giving one-word answers where she normally digressed in every direction – and she had looked rather pale to him. Abby was always pale of course, but she looked more so to him now. Tim was afraid that something was really wrong.

He'd had these concerns before. Unfortunately, asking had just gotten him into trouble. Sharing the situation with Tony had been a grand mistake of epic proportion. And he felt stupid taking the situation – if there even was a situation – to Gibbs. Maybe she was just feeling quiet. Maybe she was just tired.

Maybe something was really wrong.

Enough was enough. Tim finally gave in to his better instincts and walked down to the lab. The silence hadn't improved at all. In fact, it seemed to be worse if anything, echoing around him as noise never did.

"Abby?" he called out as he glanced around the silent space.

He didn't see her at first. She was sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to her chest and her hands resting on them. She was gazing at – so far as he could tell – nothing at all. Yet her eyes were wide open, so he knew she wasn't sleeping. At least, he thought she wasn't.

"Abby?" he asked again as he knelt down next to her.

She took a moment to answer, her eyes moving from their point on the wall to finally meet his gaze. "What?" she asked simply.

"Abby, are you feeling okay?" He might as well go straight to the point.

"Sure."

When she didn't elaborate, he tried to get something more out of her. "And you're sitting on the floor because…?" he began. To his frustration, she didn't finish the sentence for him despite the intonation which clearly made it a question. "Abby, why are you on the floor?" A straight question had at least received a response before, so he tried the tactic again.

"I was tired," she answered. With that, she stood in a somewhat robotic manner and turned to a counter. Without another word to him, she began to mechanically open a bag, remove its contents, and proceed to reach for the materials to begin testing it.

Tim didn't ask any more questions. He didn't consider talking to Tony or Ziva to ask for suggestions about the situation. He didn't consider trying to manage the problem himself any longer. Tim knew something – whatever it was – was wrong with Abby and that there was only one thing to be done for it.

Timothy McGee went to find Gibbs.