Chapter 3
Abby had been cleared to leave the hospital within a couple of days, but Tony had gotten a minor infection and was made to stay for a while longer. McGee had volunteered to pick Abby up from the hospital that morning, and bring her to her apartment before taking her to work. He had offered to let her stay at his place until she either remembered them all, or got well enough to stay on her own, but Gibbs had insisted that she stay at his house. No one had dared to argue.
It was this that found Abby and McGee pulling up to her apartment building that morning. Abby was wearing a short jean skirt and a red t-shirt that Ziva had been kind enough to bring her. It was the least intimidating outfit that she had hanging in her closet. They had all been worried, the new Abby didn't seem to be very Goth at all. McGee was nervous about how she would react when she saw her apartment. His nervousness had been pointless, because when he opened her door, using the key that he had borrowed from Gibbs, she gave an excited squeal and ran inside.
He followed her grinning, maybe the sight of all he stuff would make her remember. His hopes were dashed though, when, while examining all of her knick-knacks, she asked him:
"So this is your place?" McGee choked his coffee.
"What?!? No," he spluttered, "This is *cough* your apartment."
"Mine?" she asked, surprised, "Hmm…it doesn't seem very me."
"Are you kidding?" McGee asked incredulously, "It's very you, it's your apartment."
"If you say so," she replied, shrugging, "So then, this isn't very me is it?" She gestured to her outfit.
"Not really," he answered a little awkwardly. She suddenly pushed him back out of the bedroom door through which he had just stepped, and shut the door in his face, all in a very Abby-like move.
"Be out in a minute," she called from inside the room. McGee sighed, there was nothing he could do, except wait. He waited fifteen minutes, occasionally calling to her that they needed to get to work, for his sake at least, only to get a muffled reply that she was almost done. Almost done doing what was answered a moment later, when the door creaked open. She stepped out and spun in a slow circle.
"Better?" she asked him. He couldn't stop from grinning. She was wearing her old combat boots, over black knee high socks, with a short plaid skirt and a chain belt. Her shirt was black, with a bright white skull, and around her neck was one of her usual spiky dog collars. Her wrists jangled with black bracelets, and her lips were a bright blood red. McGee simply stared at her for a full minute, before replying. It was almost as though the old Abby was back.
"Yeah," he said dumbstruck for a moment, "You look, great, but…" His voice trailed off as he grabbed two hair rubber bands from a nearby table and haphazardly pulled her hair into pigtails.
"There," he said when he was done, "Perfect."
"Well I guess we should go, so that Special Agent Gibbs doesn't yell at us for being late," she said nervously.
"Just call him Gibbs," he told her as they headed for the door, "and he wouldn't yell at you, at least."
"Really?" she asked eyes disbelievingly wide, "He came across as kind of…angry."
"Yeah, but I doubt I'd survive the head slap from us being late and making everyone worry," he said laughing, and together they left.
Author's Chapter Notes:
McGee takes Abby to her place before they go to work. The title says it all mostly.