Bert (Abby, McGee)
Title: Bert
Rating: G
Spoilers: For 9x24 and inspired by a 10x1 promo pic.
Summary: In the aftermath of tragedy, Abby fixates on a simple thing.
She had to find Bert. She had to find Bert. She had to find Bert.
She knew her mind was fixating on minor details, not that she’d ever tell Bert he was a minor detail, but she knew that was what was happening. It was a simple psychological response, generally caused by the brain deciding in times of trauma to pack up and move to Tahiti for a few hours or days or minutes or whatever until it also decided it had had enough of Tahiti and could now handle whatever it was that was going on in real life.
At the moment, what was going on was nothing. She was sitting on a broken piece of concrete that was probably a stairwell or a wall or a something in its former life, but now it was a seat for her. She had her triage tag showing that she wasn’t seriously injured and didn’t need to be evacuated. She didn’t have Bert. She didn’t have her team. She didn’t have her lab. She didn’t have Major Mass Spec. She didn’t have anything.
No, that wasn’t true. She had her life, and she was thankful for that. And last she’d heard, all the team had their lives, and she was thankful for that too. But she needed them. She needed them not to be in a hospital or an ambulance. She needed them to not be in their broken, marred building that maybe couldn’t be repaired. She needed them to not have to move to Quantico. She needed Bert. A Caf-Pow would be nice, too, and she didn’t mean the one that was all over her clothes right now, making her all sticky and dusty at once, like a fruitcake in January.
They’d made her put him down when she left the lab with Gibbs after he protected her. She’d tried to hold on to him, but they’d said she was supposed to leave all personal belongings behind. Bert wasn’t a belonging. He was Bert.
She needed Bert, and she felt her face start to try to crumple into tears, which was also a normal psychological response to shock, but she made her face go all stiff and firm like those soldiers with the funny hats outside that palace in England. She was not going to cry. She was going to be strong, like her team. She was sure none of them were crying about this. They were working to find Harper Dearing, or at least they would be once they were all cleared to work after their traumatic event.
Maybe she should consider another career. She could be a nun or a professional bowler. They didn’t usually have to worry about explosions. And Bert could be her mascot on her bowling team, her good luck hippo at every tournament. She wasn’t sure how he’d fit into the religious life, but maybe she’d make a habit for him, with a hood and a rope belt and everything. He might like that.
She needed Bert, and she put her head down in her lap to take deep breaths. She was breathing too fast and it was making her dizzy, and if she didn’t stop she’d fall over and then she’d get her triage tag changed and that was almost as bad as getting her color changed in elementary school.
“Abbs?” she heard a voice say, and it sounded like it was talking from far away, from the bottom of a well or on the other end of a satellite connection.
“Hey, Abbs,” the voice repeated, softly, and she decided she needed to answer the voice. She put her head up fuzzily, only to feel a soft weight land in her lap.
McGee had found Bert. They were beat up and tattered, both of them, but McGee had found Bert. She scooted over on the broken piece of whatever it was, and he sat down next to her, pulling her in close as she pulled Bert in close.
“How did you know?” she asked thickly, from not-crying and dust and chemicals and everything.
“It’s Bert. How would I not know?” he asked her patiently, and she was pretty sure she felt him drop a kiss on her dusty, dirty hair.
It would all be okay now. She had McGee. And she had Bert.
Rating: G
Spoilers: For 9x24 and inspired by a 10x1 promo pic.
Summary: In the aftermath of tragedy, Abby fixates on a simple thing.
She had to find Bert. She had to find Bert. She had to find Bert.
She knew her mind was fixating on minor details, not that she’d ever tell Bert he was a minor detail, but she knew that was what was happening. It was a simple psychological response, generally caused by the brain deciding in times of trauma to pack up and move to Tahiti for a few hours or days or minutes or whatever until it also decided it had had enough of Tahiti and could now handle whatever it was that was going on in real life.
At the moment, what was going on was nothing. She was sitting on a broken piece of concrete that was probably a stairwell or a wall or a something in its former life, but now it was a seat for her. She had her triage tag showing that she wasn’t seriously injured and didn’t need to be evacuated. She didn’t have Bert. She didn’t have her team. She didn’t have her lab. She didn’t have Major Mass Spec. She didn’t have anything.
No, that wasn’t true. She had her life, and she was thankful for that. And last she’d heard, all the team had their lives, and she was thankful for that too. But she needed them. She needed them not to be in a hospital or an ambulance. She needed them to not be in their broken, marred building that maybe couldn’t be repaired. She needed them to not have to move to Quantico. She needed Bert. A Caf-Pow would be nice, too, and she didn’t mean the one that was all over her clothes right now, making her all sticky and dusty at once, like a fruitcake in January.
They’d made her put him down when she left the lab with Gibbs after he protected her. She’d tried to hold on to him, but they’d said she was supposed to leave all personal belongings behind. Bert wasn’t a belonging. He was Bert.
She needed Bert, and she felt her face start to try to crumple into tears, which was also a normal psychological response to shock, but she made her face go all stiff and firm like those soldiers with the funny hats outside that palace in England. She was not going to cry. She was going to be strong, like her team. She was sure none of them were crying about this. They were working to find Harper Dearing, or at least they would be once they were all cleared to work after their traumatic event.
Maybe she should consider another career. She could be a nun or a professional bowler. They didn’t usually have to worry about explosions. And Bert could be her mascot on her bowling team, her good luck hippo at every tournament. She wasn’t sure how he’d fit into the religious life, but maybe she’d make a habit for him, with a hood and a rope belt and everything. He might like that.
She needed Bert, and she put her head down in her lap to take deep breaths. She was breathing too fast and it was making her dizzy, and if she didn’t stop she’d fall over and then she’d get her triage tag changed and that was almost as bad as getting her color changed in elementary school.
“Abbs?” she heard a voice say, and it sounded like it was talking from far away, from the bottom of a well or on the other end of a satellite connection.
“Hey, Abbs,” the voice repeated, softly, and she decided she needed to answer the voice. She put her head up fuzzily, only to feel a soft weight land in her lap.
McGee had found Bert. They were beat up and tattered, both of them, but McGee had found Bert. She scooted over on the broken piece of whatever it was, and he sat down next to her, pulling her in close as she pulled Bert in close.
“How did you know?” she asked thickly, from not-crying and dust and chemicals and everything.
“It’s Bert. How would I not know?” he asked her patiently, and she was pretty sure she felt him drop a kiss on her dusty, dirty hair.
It would all be okay now. She had McGee. And she had Bert.