Last part to this! Hope you've all enjoyed it, and thanks for all the lovely comments etc :)
NCIS Agent Stan Burley shuffled on the spot in front of his desk, uncharacteristic nerves showing on his face. Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs arched an eyebrow, blue eyes growing decidedly cooler when he noticed the lack of paper in his agent's hands.
"The, ah, the new forensic girl said they're not ready yet." Stan grimaced at the look on his boss's face and let his shoulders rise and fall in a helpless shrug. "She said she'd call me when they were."
Gibbs said nothing. Stan looked away.
With a sigh, Gibbs got to his feet and strode determinedly towards the elevators at the back of the squad room. He'd heard whispers about the newest forensic specialist the Director had hired but hadn't met her yet; he wasn't sure he really wanted to. There were some agents who said she was brilliant, others who said she was a little... out there, he recalled as being the most polite term.
He bit back another sigh and jabbed the button summoning the elevator with a little more force than necessary. He tapped his foot impatiently waiting for it to arrive and glared at the agents who exited the elevator as he tried to enter it. He turned to face the closing steel doors, glaring at his own reflection, frustration with the pace of his current investigation overruling the curiosity he might have ordinarily allowed himself to feel.
For that reason, his mouth was set in a grim line, a frown on his face as he strode off the elevator and towards the lab doors. He flinched at the sound of the music blaring out of it, his bad mood souring further at the unwelcome noise.
Quickly locating the source of the sound on entering the lab, he slammed his hand down on the CD player, the sting in his hand fading as the relief of silence set it.
"If it's broken, you're buying me a new one." The stranger's voice was deeper than he was expecting with a hint of an accent he couldn't place at first. He looked up and icy blue eyes met molten green as the black haired woman glared at him from the doorway of the small office area between the main room of the lab and ballistics. "Special Agent Gibbs, I presume. The Director did warn me about you."
He clenched his jaw and arched an eyebrow. "The results in the Hendricks case."
"Aren't ready and won't be for another hour, just as I told Agent Burley not more than five minutes ago." Her expression didn't falter even when he gave her a glare that made most agents, lawyers and ex-wives quail in their shoes. Gibbs silently gave her points for that, and for the way she held his gaze without flinching. "You can't rush science, Agent Gibbs. Or me. Try it and I can guarantee we won't get along."
"I didn't get along with the last forensic tech, either," Gibbs admitted, baring his teeth in a smile that wasn't friendly. "He didn't last very long."
"Then he didn't deserve to be here." She quirked an eyebrow when she noticed his gaze drop to the tattoo on the side of her neck, catching the slight surprise on his face before he was able to cover it. "I can assure you I'm more than qualified, Agent Gibbs, and I've worked damn hard to get me where I am. No one is going to scare me away, not even you."
"It wasn't my intention," he found himself lying smoothly, the last of his anger fading under the weight of amusement he tried to fight when she merely stared at him, eyebrow arched, hands on her hips. "I need those results, Ms...?"
"Sciuto," she supplied automatically. "But it's Abby, for most people."
Deciding not to let himself wonder if he was included in that, he instead took the direct approach. "A murderer will be allowed to walk out of here unless I have those results soon."
"A murderer will be allowed to walk free from a courtroom unless you give me time to be thorough enough to guarantee a conviction," Abby returned just as directly. "Which would you prefer, Agent Gibbs? Having to keep tabs on this guy for half an hour or so and then make the arrest or make the arrest now and have his lawyers tear the evidence to shreds?"
They stared at one another in silence for several moments, neither prepared to give. After a while, she broke eye contact with a frustrated sigh, her hands forming uncomplimentary words he was sure he wasn't supposed to understand.
"You'll get the results when I get the results," Abby called over her shoulder, stalking into the office she'd left when she'd come to see who'd turned off her music. "If you have a problem with that, go see the Director!"
A machine beeped before he could reply; Gibbs told himself that it was a good thing. He watched as she stalked back out of the office and towards the offending equipment. He caught the glance she shot him over her shoulder and tracked her movements as she strode across the room to the printer that had begun to whirl in the corner.
"What do you know, a 98.6 percent match." Abby turned from the printer with a grudging look on her face, holding it out to him. "I guess you can make your arrest now, Agent Gibbs."
He crossed the room towards her and took the paper, glancing at it briefly before folding it and putting it in his pocket. Catching her gaze again, Gibbs moved his hands slowly, enjoying the startled expression that arranged her features as she caught on to what he was doing.
'Good job, Abby.' A rare grin arranged his lips as he turned and strode towards the exit. "Oh, and most people just call me a bastard. Though you get points for being creative."
Gibbs glanced back over his shoulder as he stepped towards the elevator, biting back at chuckle at the still stunned look on her face.
He didn't know how long she'd last but he was sure it'd be an interesting experience for them both.