Abby sat at her desk in her lab. Everyone else had gone home. But she didn't have a reason to leave anymore. Kate is dead. Died on the rooftop. Her best friend in the world now staring at the ceiling of the morgue. A bullet through her head. If only she could have stopped it. She was a great agent. Abby tried not to think about it all. She pulls out the bottle of scotch she keeps in her bottom drawer. She downs a shot. Here's to Kate.

Abby sat at her desk in her lab. Everyone else had gone home. After hours on end, trying to work out the director's death. She hadn't even known her that well, but that was part of the pain. She had never gotten to know her, just thought of her as her boss's boss. Abby never had a chance to tell her that she loved her clothes, though she couldn't see why that stuck in her mind. She took the bottle of scotch from her drawer, remembering bitterly the night almost a year ago that the director had called her in, in the middle of the night, to get prints from a bottle of scotch. She knows she'll be reminded of her every time that she reaches for the bottle. Trying to forget she downs two shots. Here's to Jen. The second. Here's to Kate.

Abby sat at her desk in her lab. Everyone else had gone home. Again. Losing herself in anger. The team lost another member. McGee shot in the chest by a suspect hyped up on meth. She loved McGee, he could make her laugh no matter what the situation, and he was so great with everything. She found herself reaching into her drawer. She poured herself a shot. Here's to McGee. And another. Here's to Jen. Another. Here's to Kate.

Abby sat at her desk in her lab. Everyone else had gone home. Last night, Ducky lost his life to lung cancer. The quirky doctor fell right over in the morgue, while performing an autopsy. Ironic, wasn't it. She remembered the countless stories he had told her, and how she had always wondered how he had retained this information. She had always known that she would probably outlive the man, but she neglected the thought. Maybe she believed that he wouldn't die because he would bore the dead to death. Again. She got out the now familiar bottle of scotch and went through the new routine. She swallowed the burning liquid. Here's to Ducky. Another. Here's to McGee. A third. Here's to Jen. A fourth. Here's to Kate.

Abby sat at her desk in the lab. Everyone else had gone home. What else was new? Tony was not dead two hours, and she already missed him so badly. He annoyed her so much that she wanted to shoot him sometimes, but he was great at what he did. She smiled lightly as she realized that Gibbs would have to find someone new to slap upside the head. He acted like he was four sometimes, and she loved him for that. It meant that she wasn't the most immature person on the team. She couldn't believe he was gone, and to a disease that didn't even exist anymore. As Kate would have said, only Tony would catch the plague. Only this time it was smallpox. She got out her scotch, and poured some shots. Here's to Tony. Another. Here's to Ducky. A third. Here's to McGee. Another one. Here's to Jen. One more. Here's to Kate.

Abby sat at her desk in the lab. Everyone else had gone home. Not that there was much of anyone left anymore. Ziva died in a warehouse early this morning. Trying to catch a guy, and the whole building blew up. Turns out the bomb was rigged by one of her brother's associates, but he's dead too, so it doesn't matter anymore. She tried so hard to get the team to accept her, she really tried. She will miss her, but she never really knew her past the deadly fa├žade she kept in place. But occasionally Ziva had let people in. Abby had been hostile to her almost until the end, but she hoped that Ziva realized that she didn't hate her. By now, she knew the routine. She retrieved the bottle of scotch. She took a shot. Here's to Ziva. Another. Here's to Tony. And another. Here's to Ducky. Again. Here's to McGee. A fifth. Here's to Jen. And one more. Here's to Kate.

Abby sat at her desk in the lab. Everyone else had gone home. No. No one had gone home. There wasn't anyone to go home. Today, she found Gibbs hanging from a shaft in his handmade boat in his basement. Blood dripping from his wrist, a needle in his arm and a bottle shattered across the floor. Talk about overkill. The man that meant everything in her life was now dead. He was there for her when Kate died. He was there when McGee died. He was there for her, until he was the only thing that kept her hanging on. And now, he let go. He's not there anymore. She opened her drawer, and stared at her bottle of scotch. She took it out, and uncapped it. She poured herself six shots. First one. Here's to Gibbs. Next. Here's to Ziva. Another. Here's to Tony. Number four. Here's to Ducky. Again. Here's to McGee. Two more. Here's to Jen. The last one. Here's to Kate.