Title: Day 4
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: NCIS
Rating: G
Pairing: None
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my 'verse. I don't get paid a cent to play. Please don't sue and make things worse.
Summary: There are very few people who can out-boss the boss
Note: Part of the 12 Ficlets in 12 Days project 2009-2010. Requested by VaterGrrl

 Abby picked up the phone in her lab, “Yes, Ducky, you can send the samples up to me any time.” Before she had a change to turn around, the phone rang again. She answered it, and rolled her eyes. “No, Tony, I haven't gotten a hit on the prints yet. If I had, I would have called you, like I promised I would do.” It wasn't five seconds later that her phone rang again. “Yes, Kate, I looked over the lab reports, but without anything to test, I can't do anything except read the file. And, no, I didn't find anything wrong with the analysis.” She hung up the phone and sighed, half-expecting it to ring again.

When it didn't, she relaxed and went back to her machines. They were working hard, the way she wanted to be, but she hadn't been given anything challenging in days and it was starting to get to her. Tony's prints came up in the database a few minutes later with a blinking “No Match Found” message. Frustrated, she printed it out for him. At least it was something. She grabbed the printout and headed upstairs.

Things were quiet on the floor. People were working at their desks, on their own cases, and no one looked particularly happy about that. “Guess I'm in good, grumpy company,” she said, laying the paper down on Tony's desk.

Kate hung the phone up and made a note on her pad, before dropping it onto her desk on a stack of manila folders. “Do you know the worst part about working cold cases?” she said.

It was obviously a question she meant to answer herself, but Tony perked up a bit and suggested, “The frostbite?”

Kate replied, “Ha-ha. Very funny, Tony. The worst part is that these cases went cold for a reason.” She picked her notes up again and unenthusiastically read through the first page.

Abby looked around, frowning. “When's Gibbs getting back?”

Leaning back in his chair, Tony shrugged. “Whenever he feels better, I guess. Won't be soon enough for me, that's for sure. My head is almost getting used to not being slapped every day.”

“Oh, I can help with that,” Kate offered.

Tony gave her a look. “No thanks.” Then, to Abby, “It's just not the same, you know?”

She laughed quietly. “I know.” Then, with a loud sigh. “I want Gibbs back.” The solution seemed to strike her out of the blue. “I'm going to go check on him.”

“What?” Tony nearly fell back, out of his chair with surprise. “But, you can't.”

“Sure I can,” Abby replied, perky and determined. She turned on her heels and headed towards the elevator.

*

“Gibbs!” She alternated knocking and ringing the doorbell. Even if he had been asleep in bed, there was no way he could sleep through this racket now. “Gibbs, it's me! Open up!”

It took a few long minutes, but finally the curtains of the skinny window beside the door were pulled to the side. Gibbs stood there, looking annoyed. “What are you doing here, Abby?”

“Came to check on you!” she said, as though she did this sort of thing all the time.

“How did you know where I lived?”

“I looked it up on the system at work. I have mad skills, Gibbs. And I have friends who know their ways around computers.”

He coughed into his fist and didn't make a move toward the task of unlocking the door.

Abby spoke up, a little louder. “I also have friends who are excellent locksmiths!”

Gibbs stared at her, but it seemed all the power he had over her was gone. Reluctantly, he undid the locks and opened the door to her.

She took one look at his appearance—sweatshirt, jeans, uncombed hair, red nose—and declared, “You look sick, Gibbs. ”

He blinked at her.

“But Leroy Jethro Gibbs doesn't get sick, does he?”

His head gave a miniscule little shake. “Nope.”

“Then it must just be that you look sick. In which case, there's no reason I shouldn't come in.” She practically bounced in before he could stop her.

Reluctantly, he closed the door. He sat down on the couch and immediately covered his nose and mouth with his hand. “hur-SHOOoo!” He bounced up and down at the force and groaned.

Abby set her bag down and pulled out a small box of tissues. “I wish I'd bought a bigger one now.” She ripped off the cardboard and offered the box to him.

Gibbs took one hesitantly and dabbed at his nose. Then, once he had determined it didn't hurt, he rubbed and then blew his nose. He picked the box up and inspected it, reading the brand. His breath caught and he quickly snatched a few more tissues from the box. “hehRshoo! Hah-Urshooo!”

“Bless you, Gibbs!” Abby went through the rest of the items she had brought, plopping each onto Gibbs' lap. “My favorite CD of death metal opera, just in case you missed me and a copy of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, in case you missed DiNozzo.” She saw him smirk, which was a very good sign, even if he wasn't laughing at that. “And I got you the very best chicken soup in DC. I had to go all the way to Farragut West for it. The man at the restaurant didn't want to let me in at first as they were setting up for dinner already, but I can be very persuasive, as you might know. I kept it warm with a hot water bottle. Come to think of it…” She pressed the hot water bottle to his chest. “Hold onto that, too. But you're going to eat this soup.”

Gibbs looked at her, blinking in confusion, as if he couldn't keep up with her.

She realized, after a moment, that he couldn't actually keep up. She forced a spoon into his hand and held out the large, clear plastic container of soup. “Eat, Gibbs.”

He took the spoon and the soup, and he took a bite. Then another. He looked at Abby, one eyebrow raised. “This is good.”

She grinned. “Best there is.” Abby threw her arms around his middle, hot water bottle and all, not caring that some soup sloshed against her arm. “Missed you!” She pulled back. “You gotta get better soon, okay? So that you can start bossing us around again, instead of the other way around.”

This time, when he cracked a smile, it stayed long enough for her to get a good look at it. “Eat,” she commanded. “Then rest.”

“Sn-sneeze first,” he muttered urgently, handing the soup back and dipping back into the tissues. “huh…h'Shuhh! HerSHooo! HyShoo!” He blew his nose, looking half-mortified and half-exhausted.

“Sneeze,” she agreed. “Then eat, then rest. That's the order we'll go with. I'll put a movie on in the meantime.”

He nodded, open-mouthed, raised the tissues, and sneezed again.