A/N: Sorry, this is going to be a rather short chapter. I messed about with the previous ones and this actually should have been part of chapter 4. I could have added some more, but I want this chapter to end where it does.
I promised something unexpected and Abby and Gibbs ending up in bed together wouldn't be that unexpected, would it? *Grins*
However, did you expect this?
I would have paid for a room for her to stay at, but none are available. Babbling, Abby takes off her boots, her skirt and when she starts fumbling about underneath her shirt, I manage to take my eyes off of her and head for the bathroom.
When I come back, she has already fallen asleep. Even though the room has a king-size bed, I sleep in the armchair and leave the bed to Abby.
The next morning I am up early and by the time I get out of the bathroom, Abby has woken and is up as well. Sitting up in bed, she rubs her eyes and stretches. Her hair is tousled and she looks a little bit as if she has a hangover. After yawning and stretching again, she looks at me questioningly.
"What?" I ask.
"We ... we didn't, huh?" she asks and when I look a bit confused, she motions to the unused side of the bed.
"No," I chuckle. "We didn't," I confirm, shaking my head and smirking.
She sighs heavily.
"What a pity," she says, sounding almost disappointed, and I realize she talks about more than just sleeping in the same bed.
For a second I wonder if she really means it or if she is just kidding. Giggling, she climbs over the untouched side of the bed, thoroughly crumbling it in the process. When she passes me by on her way to the bathroom, she stops briefly, turns back to get her skirt and bra, which she had taken off for the night, and with a broad grin she resumes her way to the shower.
As I am changing into a fresh shirt, there is a knock on the door.
"Yeah?" Not wondering any further who this might be - room service maybe, although it is probably too early for that - I open the door to let whoever it is come in.
When the door opens, the person I least expect is standing right in front of me.
I probably forgot to mention that before I went to Russia, I had gotten married. She came to stay with me when I went on a mission at Moscow and our relationship went from good, to okay, to we-better-not-look-for-a-place-we-can-live-together-when-we-return-to-DC. Something had gone wrong - again - and I still cannot handle it. It got even worse since we came back and I take every chance I can to get out of town. Even though we do not live together any more, she calls what seems to me like a hundred times a day. I do not answer the phone any more, but it doesn't keep her from 'incidentally running into me' just around the next corner.
So going to New York for a couple of days had seemed like a good idea, but apparently she can find me wherever I am.
Now what on earth is she doing in New York?
"Stephanie," I can't hide my astonishment.
It seems like New York is just around the corner of D.C.
"Jethro, your Director told me you are in New York and..." I don't want to know how Stephanie managed to prize this information out of him. Then she realizes that I am trapped in this room. Nowhere to slip away through the back-door. "Why don't you let me talk to you?"
Talk. Great! Talking usually means, she talks about my inability to listen and to respond to her needs and feelings and about how cold I am.
I take a deep breath, struggling for whatever I want or don't want to say, when suddenly the bathroom door opens and Abby walks out; fully dressed, with her hair twisted in a towel...