Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or any of the charcters from it. I do however own the crazy mind that puts these concoctions (what you're about to read) together. I'm not making any money from this. It's all purely for fun. No Copyright Infringement Intended. I'm just a heathily addicted, loyal fan of the show!. =D


The Coffin Business
by Special Agent Starr

Once the elevator doors slid open the clanging and twanging of metal, the pounding beat of a hammer, and the deep swishing of a saw were evident noises that filled the tiny hallway leading to her laboratory.

At first he figured it was just the boisterous, racket considered by a select few to be categorized as music. On another other day he would have been correct in his assumption, until he looked down the small distance. Her door was closed. She barely ever shut the thing. In fact, the last time he recalled such an occurrence was when she had spilled something on the floor, which would have caused the "set Abby up as bait to weed out who committed treason" plan to be foiled. So, she had sealed off entrance to prevent that from happening. His nose throbbed at the memory.

As he listened closer however, he could distinguish that there were two sets of sounds going on in the room, hearing the thumping sound of her music in the background.

When he heard a loud thump, a cry in pain, and something heavy fall to the ground his instincts took over.

"Ow, son of a -!"

He flung open the door, thankful that it hadn't been locked this time.

"Abby!" he called out in a panic.

He saw her standing in front of her silver table with her thumb in her mouth.

"Yeah McGee?"

She hissed as she popped the thumb out of her mouth and tried to shake the pain away.

He took the opportunity to calm himself and observe the situation. No one else was in the room with her that much was obvious, so she wasn't being attacked, at least by another person. Then he saw the pieces and piles of wood and tools scattered around her. Something was beginning to take shape in front of her, on the table.

"What are you doing?" he asked inquisitively, still coming down from his adrenaline rush.

She gave him a look that said 'What does it look like I'm doing?' and decided to voice something different.

"Oh, you know me, just thought I'd bash some of my fingers in…" she said sorely.

Not only because of her injury, but because of her own slip up to cause that injury.

He spied a group of white paper laying on the edge of the table, which he casual walked over to look at.

On top of the first paper, bold printing caught his attention.

'How to Build Your Own Coffin'

As the morbidity of this discovery pieced itself together in his mind, he reached a conclusion.

"You're building a coffin?"

"Ding Ding Ding! We have a winner! Alex, tell us what he's won!" she announced in the voice of a TV game show host.

He ignored her playful sarcasm, "By yourself?"

She smirked at this, continuing back to her work.

"Have you forgotten that I'm quite skilled with my hands, Timmy?"

'Well, it has been a while… a long while' he thought to himself, maybe he had forgotten.

Interrupting his thoughts, she purposed an idea of her own.

"I could start a company doing this. Gibbs could start one too, only with boats. We could work together. Ya know… just in case he doesn't build one right."

Giving a little laugh at the connection between the two, she picked up the instructions and studied them.

"Don't you already have a coffin?" it was a stupid question, he already knew the answer.

Half paying attention, she nodded.

"Well then why do you need another? Where are you gonna put it?" he knew there wasn't much room in her apartment with one, let alone two.

"I don't need two. It's actually kind of Palmers fault but as I started thinkin' about it, I could use a new one. The old one is getting worn down after having it all these years and even better I can put it in the back of my car permanently. That'll really freak out the gawkers!" she remarked excitedly.

He stood there, letting all this fanatical information soak in.

She broke him of his silence.

"So you wanna help me?" she asked hopeful for assistance so it would get done quicker.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head, "I don't think so Abs…"

"Aw c'mon Timmy," she whined, bouncing a bit as did "let me rephrase… will you help me please?"

With the perfect pouty face to go with the sweetly emphasized word, she knew there was no way he could refuse.

Inhaling, he opened his mouth again to protest the idea, but no words came out. He'd been hit with the effects of the pout. Closing his mouth, he saw her smile and that pretty much sealed the deal. He was going to be very busy for the next couple of hours.

"Let me see the directions…" he sighed defeated but not really angry about it.

"Yay!" she exclaimed and maneuvered her way around the materials to give him a hug.

He squeezed back and she pulled away.

"Come on Igor, let's bring this baby to life!"

----- x ----- x ----- x -----

After about an hour of diligent work between them, the last hinge was securely placed, connecting the lid to the body frame, signifying the woodworks completion. They decided to take a break while Abby went to the storage closet to collect the fabric and cushioning she had purchased while she had bought the lumber.

From there they proceeded to upholster the project. Since they had gotten in the groove of working well together, as they always did, this took about half the time. And then, as the last staple was fired by the staple gun and the last trimmings were snipped, Abby pumped he fist into the air.

"It is alive!" In mocking evil, mad scientist tone.

They both looked at each other with proud grins of accomplishment, before throwing their hands up in the air and high-fiving. They still held hands as they brought them down and both predicted the next step.

"Now we just need to get it out of here."

This proved to be a more grueling than the actual labor of making it, but with a few grunts, a little sweat, and careful movements through good communication, they made it into the elevator and out to her hearse, everything and everyone still fully intact.

"You know Abs, I never though I'd say this but, it's a good thing you have a hearse. I don't how else we would've gotten it to your place." He said from the passenger seat.

She smiled widely as she pulled up to the curb of her apartment.

Getting the coffin into the flat proved no harder than getting it out into the vehicle. The challenge came when they tried to bring the new in and bring the old one out because of space issues. Ultimately, they agreed to set the new outside, while they removed the old and carried it out to the hearse, and then they focused on introducing the new to its rightful spot. McGee brushed his hands against each other.

"Ah success!"

He was then engulfed in a bone-crushing embrace.

"Thank you McGee!"

"You're welcome Abby." He forced out barely able to breath.

Waiting for her to let go, realizing that probably wouldn't be for awhile if not intervened, he looked at his watch.

"Well… I should probably go call a taxi Abs. It's getting late."

She pulled back abruptly.

"What're you taking about Tim?" her eyes full of confusion.

"Um… we drove in your car, unless you want to take me home how else am I supposed to get there?"

As she pulled him close again, a mischievous look fell upon her demeanor, "You're not going anywhere. We're not finished yet."

Feeling the familiar tingle of desire he'd thought he'd lost travel throughout his body, he gulped from the tension of the moment.

"We're not?"

Shaking her head she began to trail her fingers up and down his chest.

"Nope, we still have to break it in. Unless of course, you don't want to…"

'Oh I want to!' he confirmed to himself but…

"Abs… I don't think we sh-"

"Please…"

----- x ----- x ----- x ------

The coffin was nearly rattling on the ground and not at all because unsteadiness, thanks to the precise craftsmanship of the occupants currently inside, the thing was solid as a rock.

Cry's of ecstasy sounded as they both reached release with eachother.

"Oh God McGee!... It's a good thing we left the lid open. If we shut it, I guarantee steam may have poured from it!" she panted.

He couldn't even think at that point, still a bit disoriented.

She smiled and kissed his lips.

"I'm so glad I didn't insist on Palmer helping me."

He gave her a look that managed to say 'You would've done… this… with him?!'

"No," she giggled "but he is kinda cute."

Tim eyes widened.

"But not as cute as you."

The reflection of her saying those words years ago, made him raise up slightly to connect their lips again.

"Mmm… I will need someone to help me paint though." She mumbled.

He gently pulled back, brow arched, "Shouldn't we have done that before we upholstered it?"

He watched her expression as she realized their one flaw.

"Oh well… guess we'll either have to redo it or build a new one." She didn't seem to be bothered by the mistake.

"I'll help." He offered with a grin.

She circled her fingertips around his chest and leaned in.

"I'll be eagerly waiting for your assistance my Timothy." She drawled in a vampire-like accent seductively.

Given the circumstance, it seemed fitting.

----- x ----- x ----- x -----


{Wrote this today after I got the idea today, after seeing last nights episode. =P Hope you like it let me know if you do. Or don't even. =D}