Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and NCIS are property of their respective owners. The only thing I can lay claim to is the insanity that is my mind.
Notes: I decided to create a separate ficlet series for these stories after I started writing a third to fall within the same crossover universe as two of my previous ficlets in my Stream of Consciousness collection. These ficlets are independent yet connected overall and will be posted as I get the ideas and write them. In other words, not chronological order.
“What do you got Abbs?” Gibbs asked as he walked into the lab.
Abby jumped at the sound of his voice. She quickly grabbed the Caf-Pow out of his hand and told him, “I need to put a bell on you!”
He waited for Abby to tell him why she called him down. Instead he watched as she played with the straw in her drink, bit her lip, and wouldn’t meet his eyes. This was some odd behaviour from the forensic scientist.
“Well?” he prompted.
“It’s not my fault,” she blurted out suddenly. “Well, it is in the sense that I did the tests, but I wasn’t looking for this! I ran it three times, just to be sure I got it right, ‘cause I wanted to be really, really sure in case you weren’t. And I know you don’t like talking about personal stuff, but you should have told us and…”
Abby trailed off when Gibbs gave her a look. Not ‘The Look’ because Abby never got that one, but an effective look nonetheless.
“What’s this about Abby?”
She responded by grabbing his arm and dragging him over to the large plasma screen on the wall. A move nobody else could have gotten away with.
“This,” Abby said pointing at the screen. Gibbs followed her hand and wasn’t surprised to see a large file photo of the kid they had in interrogation. What did surprise him was the big red classified next to it.
“Harris has a classified file.”
It wasn’t a question, but Abby nodded anyway. “That’s the bad news. The good news is that it is his DNA on the blade of the knife.”
“That corroborates his story so far,” Gibbs said, looking closely at Abby. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“When I ran his DNA I got two matches. The full on one brought up big red there,” Abby told him with a gesture toward the screen. “The other…” she trailed off again.
Gibbs finished for her. “He has a family member in the database.”
“Yah, a father,” Abby started reluctantly and a few keystrokes later another file appeared on the screen. “One Leroy Jethro Gibbs.”
Gibbs’ eyes actually widened in shock. His mind went to the young man upstairs in the blinding Hawaiian shirt and armed with a seemingly never-ending supply of wisecracks. He spoke before his brain caught up with him.
“I have a teenage DiNozzo for a son?!”