05.30.10

Dear Abby,

I think we both had a feeling that this wasn't going to work out from the beginning, but we decided to go through with it for Andy. It wasn't an ideal situation by any stretch of the imagination, but we managed to make it work for awhile.

I can't bring myself to regret the last four years that we've spent together, but this can't go on any longer. Sometimes, I worry about how our fighting affects our son, and I don't know what we can do to fix it. The easiest thing to do would be to just pack my stuff and go, but I can't just leave it like that. Thinking about you moving on without me isn't something that I can handle.

I'm sorry

**0445 Hours -- May 31st, 2010**

The shrill chirping of the cell phone sliced through the dark basement, startling the silver-haired agent from his sleep. Sitting upright, he cursed loudly as his head collided with the wooden underside of his boat before he ran a large hand over his face, blinking in an attempt to clear his vision. Pushing himself to his feet, he stumbled over to the cluttered work bench, plucking the device from the table. His eyes weren't so good to begin with and in his sleepy haze, the numbers on the front display were blurry. Clearing his throat, he flipped it open and pressed it to his ear.

"Yeah, Gibbs," he greeted, his voice still thick with sleep.

There was a long pause followed by a quiet sigh. "I apologize for calling so early, Jethro."

"Leon?"

"I..." Director Vance sighed again, searching for the words. "Something's happened at DiNozzo's apartment."

The older agent was already at the stairs, taking them two at a time as he hurried upstairs. "What's goin' on, Leon?"

"Not something I want to discuss over the phone. How soon before you can get here?"

"I'll be there as soon as you tell me what the hell happened!" Gibbs barked, his phone cradled between his shoulder and his ear. "What's goin' on?" He repeated.

"It's Abby, Gibbs." There was a pause on the other end of the line and for a moment, Vance thought that perhaps the team leader hadn't heard him. "I need you and your team down here as soon as possible."

Gibbs stumbled at the force of the Director's words as he heard what the man did not say. "How?" He asked, his voice coming out in no more than a ragged gasp.

"I don't know yet. I wish I had the answers you're looking for, but I don't… the local LEOs are still processingâ€""

"No."

"Gibbs, I can't let youâ€""

"She was mine, Leon. If you think I'm going to let some second-rate police department, one who doesn't have the resources that NCIS has, investigate this, you're wrong. You pull them out of there."

Director Vance knew he should protest. Putting his agents through the investigation wasn't a good idea, and he knew it. But at the same time, he knew that it would offer them the sort of closure that they wouldn't be able to get otherwise and he couldn't bring himself to deny them that.

"Your team was close with her. I want the three of you in my office in an hour. If either of them cannot handle this investigation, I need to know. There are plenty of other agents who are going to be willing to step in and help, you know that."

Leaning against the wall, Gibbs closed his eyes, his fingers gripping the phone. "DiNozzo?"

Vance paused, weighing his words carefully. "He wasn't there when they arrived. I haven't been able to make contact with him."

Gibbs could feel his gut twist uncomfortably as he released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "I'll get a hold of him, Leon."

The Director fell silent for a moment, racking his brain his, searching for the words he so desperately wanted to say. "Jethro…" He hesitated, pinching the bridge of his nose. "If there's anything you need on this investigation, don't hesitate."

The lump which had already begun to form in the former Marine's throat seemed to grow, nearly making it impossible to swallow. Closing his eyes against the unfamiliar sting of tears, he forced himself to school his emotions in a way that was only possible after years in the military.

"We'll be there. One hour, your office." Without waiting for a response, Gibbs snapped the phone closed between his fingers and resisted the urge to throw the device against the opposite wall.

His chest ached in a way he hadn't experienced in years, nearly crippling him. He slid down the wall slowly, his hands fisting in his hair as he played back the conversation he'd just had with Vance. He knew there was always a possibility that a phone call like this would come given the line of work that his agents had chosen, but this was different. His agentsâ€"Tony, McGee, Zivaâ€"they'd chosen their job, knowing that any given moment, it could all end. But Abby…

He closed his eyes, swallowing the scream that threatened to spill from his lips as he thought of his surrogate daughter. He could feel the anger welling up in his chest and pushing himself to his feet, he threw his fist at the wall.

He didn't feel his fist go through the drywall, didn't notice the sting as the skin over his knuckles split, peppering the wall with his blood. A single tear slid down his cheek, the only one he would shed until this was all over.

His breaths came out in short ragged spurts as he pulled his hand from the hole in the wall. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to get his emotions in check before he made his phone calls. He would be strong for his people so they didn't have to be.

::::::

Glancing around at the team gathered at the conference table, Director Vance pushed himself to his feet, turning his back to them. It had been easier telling Gibbs, despite the man's close relationship with the Forensic Scientist, simply for the fact that he hadn't been forced to see his face when the realization of what he was saying finally sank in.

He didn't know if he could stand to watch the Israeli and the Junior Agent crumble as he told them. In the back corner of the office, Doctor Mallard sat patiently, his kind, old eyes sad as he waited for the bomb to be dropped. Though Vance didn't exactly see the reason for the ME to have a degree in forensic psychology, he had to admit that he was happy the doctor was available to sit in.

"With all due respect, Director," Ziva began coolly after a moment, confused and concerned as to why she and her partner had been called out so early in the morning, "I think I speak for McGee and myself when I ask why exactly we are here."

The Director didn't speak, nor did he acknowledge that he'd heard her. He could feel their eyes boring into his back as the silence in the room became unbearable.

"Leon."

It was only word, but the Director heard the warning in Gibbs' tone, knowing he couldn't put off the inevitable. Closing his eyes, he drew a breath before he turned back to them, though his voice caught in his throat as he tried to speak.

Beside Gibbs, McGee fidgeted nervously, rubbing his palms against his pants. He knew that whatever reason the Director had for calling them in, it wasn't good.

Clearing his throat, Vance forced himself to focus on the wall behind them as he spoke. "I had hoped that by time you arrived here this morning that I would have found an easier way to say this. Unfortunately, I don't know that one exists. Losing a team member…" He trailed off, closing his eyes at the sound of Ziva's quiet gasp.

Swallowing hard, McGee looked at Gibbs, his stomach aching at the sight of the older man's face. Beneath the table, Gibbs' uninjured hand was clenched into a fist as he fought back the wave of emotion that washed over him.

"Losing a team member is never easy," Vance continued, "especiallyâ€""

"How did it happen?" Ziva demanded, her voice raw despite the power behind her words. "What happened to him?"

Confusion flashed across the Director's face, his gaze sliding over to Gibbs as he tried to comprehend the question that the Israeli was asking and then it clicked. They had assumed that their missing partner had been the casualty.

"He's not talkin' about Tony, Ziva," Gibbs said, his voice wavering ever so slightly.

"But he is not… Who else could there…?"

"Abby." Her name spilled from McGee's lips, his face contorting as he glanced at his boss. "He's… He means Abby."

Gibbs didn't have time to respond before his Junior Agent pushed himself to his feet, rushing from the room. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the table, dropping his head to his hands.

In the corner, Ducky pushed himself to his feet, swiping at the wetness on his cheeks. He started for the door when Gibbs' voice stopped him.

"Give him a minute, Duck," he demanded, his voice muffled by his hands.

Across the table, a quiet sob escaped the Mossad officer, her normally hardened demeanor cracking at the news of her friend's death.

They sat quietly for a few minutes longer, Ducky taking the chair McGee had vacated and making his best attempts at comforting Ziva. After a moment, Gibbs stood, sliding his chair away from the table and heading out of the conference room in search of the young man. He should have known that McGee would take the news hard, given his feelings for the Goth.

Walking down the hallway, the silver-haired man pushed the bathroom door open quietly, not wanting to spook his young agent. The sound of the toilet flushing reached his ears, followed by a strangled cry. Leaning against the wall, he waited patiently, giving the young man a moment to collect himself.

Unlatching the stall door, McGee stepped out, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. He paused when he spotted his boss, shame washing over him as he prayed the older man didn't notice the redness around his eyes. He said nothing as he made his way over to the sink, his hands trembling.

He could feel a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill as he allowed the water to run over his hands, cooling his flushed skin. In the mirror, he could see Gibbs push off from the wall before he came to a stop behind him.

"You do not have to do this, Tim." His words were soft, sincere. There were no traces of judgment lurking behind his blue eyes as he brought his hand up, resting it on his shoulder. "Nobody is gonna look down on you if you decide you can't be a part of this investigation. Do I make myself clear? You do not have to do this," he repeated.

"Yes I do." His voice was hoarse as he shrugged his boss' hand off his shoulder, his stomach clenching painfully. "I have to do it for her."

"She would understand."

Gibbs eyed him momentarily, taking in the defiant stance of his Junior Agent when he turned to face him. After a moment, he nodded, accepting the younger man's decision. "Okay. But if you change your mind later, that's okay too. I just wanna make that clear."

Turning back to the sink, McGee ran his hands under the faucet again, taking a shaky breath as he tried to collect himself.

"Take a minute, get yourself together. When you're through, you meet us down at the car. We'll be waitin'."

"Thanks Boss," McGee responded, swallowing hard as he closed his eyes. The sound of Gibbs' footsteps against the tiled floor reached his ears, and a second later, he heard the bathroom door closing behind the older man.

::::::

The drive should have taken longer; for once in his life, he had wanted it to take longer, hoping that by time they reached the familiar apartment building, he would've woken up from what could only be considered a nightmare. It was only due to the early hour that they had made it from headquarters to the outskirts of DC in less than twenty minutes, barely beating the early morning traffic rush.

Gibbs sighed quietly when he pulled up in front of the old brick apartment building, looking up at the window of his Senior Agent's apartment. He was fortunate that the Director hadn't pushed too much when he insisted on taking the case from the local LEOs, knowing that he understood Abby's connection to the team. The older man needed to be the lead investigator, if for no other reason than to make sure that the scientist got the justice she deserved.

He was jarred from his thoughts as the stone-faced Israeli closed the door behind his and with another heavy sigh, he turned to the passenger seat, looking at his junior agent worriedly. "C'mon, Tim," he prodded, snapping his fingers in the younger man's face.

Glancing over at Gibbs, McGee could feel the panic rising within him as he shook his head. "I don't… I wanted to do this, Gibbs, but I don't… I don't think I can."

"That's your call," Gibbs responded quietly. "I already told ya, if you don't think you can handle this investigation, I'm not gonna make you. You do what you think you have to do."

Glancing up at Tony's window, McGee nodded as he reached for the buckle on his seatbelt. With shaking hands, he unlatched the seatbelt and pushed the door open, feeling the sting of tears once more.

He hadn't realized that Gibbs was already outside of the car, nor had he noticed that the older man was standing beside him until he felt his hand against his shoulder.

"You just remember who we're doin' this for. She'd be proud of you."

McGee nodded, not trusting his voice as his boss led him toward the entrance to the apartment building. He followed after Ziva dutifully, his feet moving clumsily over the wooden floor as they made their way to the elevator. Closing his eyes, he leaned against the cool metal walls, gripping the handrail nervously until it jerked to a stop, depositing them on the third floor. As they grew closer to the apartment Abby and Tony shared, McGee could feel himself resisting Gibbs' guiding hand more and more.

"Have… have you heard from Tony? Does he know?" McGee asked, swallowing hard, his stomach flip flopping nervously. "Is he with Andy?"

Gibbs paused, frowning at the mention of the four-year-old son of the couple that occupied the apartment. The Director had informed him earlier that he was already in the custody of Child Protective Serves, awaiting the arrival of the boy's next of kin.

"I don't know where DiNozzo is, McGee, and Andy's with CPS. Vance is already makin' arrangements to have Ducky pick him up when we're done here," the silver-haired agent grunted in response, hoping his badge up as a uniformed officer approached. "Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS."

Ziva watched as the young officer's eyes darted to the badge nervously before he removed his hat, gripping it in his hands. "Scene is still intact. We closed it off once we found her ID. Your medical examiner is already inside, and the witness next door is waiting for someone to take her statement."

Nodding curtly in response, Gibbs brushed passed the young man, ignoring the growing ache in his chest. "We'll take it from here. You can have your men secure."

"If there's anything we can do to help, Agent Gibbs… I understand your need to handle this one, but my department is ready and willing to cooperate in any way possible."

"I said we'd take it from here," he responded, his tone a little sharper than he'd originally intended.

"Fair enough." The officer nodded, offering Ziva and McGee a sympathetic glance. "We'll send you a copy of our initial. You'll have it by lunch time."

The three agents watched as the uniformed officers made their way to the stairs, none of them making eye contact as they passed. Waiting until the last one disappeared, Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger before he turned to his agents. "We take our time with this one. I want every inch of this apartment dusted, I want everything bagged and I want it done right. We take the rooms one by one. Anything looks out of place, you bag it."

"Boss…" McGee managed, almost on the verge of hysterics as he peered in through the open door. "I can't… I can't go in there. Please don't make me go in there." He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes as he stumbled backwards, colliding with the wall. "P… please… I… I…"

Releasing a heavy sigh, Gibbs gripped McGee's shoulder firmly, feeling the younger man trembling under his hand. "You take a minute, get yourself together," he instructed, patting his agent's shoulder reassuringly. "Then go take the witness statement. When the scene's clear, you can come in and help."

"Th… thank you," he mumbled, turning away from them as he headed toward the neighbor's apartment unsteadily.

Turning back to face the open apartment door, Gibbs wished that he didn't have to enter it either. He saw that Ziva was already inside, kneeling next to the scientist in the kitchen, smoothing her black hair with a gloved hand as she spoke quietly in Hebrew.

"...yehe shlama rabba min shmayya, ve hayyim tovim, vesava vishuʻa venekhama veshezava, urfuʼa ugʼulla usliha v'khappara, verevah vehatzala..."

A quiet sigh escaped him, catching Ducky's attention. Glancing up, the elderly medical examiner frowned at his oldest friend as he made his way across the apartment to him.

"Whatcha got, Duck?" He asked, his throat tight. He cursed inwardly when he heard the slight crack in his voice. He couldn't be weak, not when he had to be strong for everyone else.

"Jethro…" The ME started, wanting to reassure him that it was alright to show that he was upset, to assure him that in reality, it would probably help his agents deal with their grief easier knowing that their mentor was feeling the same way.

Catching the younger man's eye, he sighed heavily, seeing that Gibbs clearly didn't want a lecture at the moment. "Time of death was around 2300 hours last night." He gestured to the kitchen, reclaiming the spot that Ziva vacated as she stood. "Preliminary cause of death is multiple stab wounds to the upper torso."

Gibbs nodded, turning to the Israeli on his right. "Let's get started. We'll take this room first while McGee's next door, gettin' the statement."

Ducky watched as the pair started their tasks before he turned back to Jimmy, releasing a quiet sigh. "Let's get her back, Mr. Palmer," he said quietly, kneeling over the raven-haired woman one last time.

With great care, Ducky closed the black bag, ignoring the sting of tears behind his eyes. Lifting her onto the gurney, he nodded solemnly to Jimmy before he turned back to Gibbs as the young man wheeled her out.

"Jethro… Has anyone spoken with Anthony?"

"Tried callin' him a couple times, Duck. No answer. Gonna have McGee do a trace on his phone as soon as we get back."

"Perhaps I could try again? Do you think he knows?"

"Don't know," Gibbs responded curtly, turning his back to the older medical examiner. "Don't bother tryin' again. If he hasn't called back already, chances are you aren't gettin' an answer."

"Very well," Ducky sighed.

"Get her back safely, Duck. Take good care of her," Gibbs said quietly, his voice cracking ever so slightly before he swallowed hard, trying to reign in his emotions.

"Of course," he nodded, clapping his friend on the back before he exited the kitchen, intent on following Jimmy downstairs.

Stepping out of the apartment, he pulled the door closed behind him, releasing a shaky breath. Whispering a silent pray for the woman he'd grown to think of as a granddaughter, he started for the elevator, though he stopped when he heard McGee's wavering voice.

His footsteps were quiet against the hardwood floor as he made his way over to the neighboring apartment, listening quietly as the Junior Agent questioned the only witness they had.

"W… what exactly was it that you heard, Mrs. Sampson?" McGee asked, his voice thick with emotion as he tried to clear the lump from his throat.

Ducky could hear the older woman sniffle quietly, and when she spoke, her voice was hoarse.

"Y… you have to understand, they fought like that all the time! I didn't… I didn't think anything of it! It didn't sound any different than any other time!"

"Just… please tell me what you heard," he repeated, his stomach twisting uncomfortably as he tried to prepare himself for whatever it was she was about to tell him.

"It started… it started out like it usually does…"

~~Sunday, May 30th, 2130 Hours~~

Donna Sampson groaned as she heard the all too familiar shouting coming from the other side of the wall behind her couch. Dropping her head back against the cushion, she glanced over at the clock.

9:30.

It was something that she was used to after four years of living next door to the young couple and their adorable child, but it didn't make it any easier to listen to when it happened upwards of three nights a week. Sometimes she couldn't help but wonder what they did when they weren't fighting, usually coming to the conclusion that one of them had to be out of the house.

Pushing herself up from the couch with a sigh, she headed toward her bathroom to take a quick shower, hoping that when she finished, they would be done fighting. Typically their fights lasted about a half an hour, and if she went to the back of her apartment, she couldn't hear them.

After she finished her shower, she came back out to the living room to turn off the TV, frowning when she still heard the Goth's voice through the wall. Walking into the kitchen, she started making herself a cup of tea when she heard Tony raise his voice.

Her head jerked up a second later when she heard a glass shattering against what she could only assume was the kitchen cabinets. The sound of their front door slamming shut followed seconds later, and then, silence. Donna frowned deeply, feeling sympathetic for the young couple. She knew a little about their situation from talking to Abby, and often found herself praying for them both.

When she finished making her tea, the older woman headed to her bedroom, intent on going to bed for the night. She drank her tea and set the mug on the nightstand before slipping between the blankets and falling asleep.

Donna woke up just over an hour later, hearing Abby's distinct screams coming from next door. It wasn't very often that they woke her up in the middle of the night, but it was hardly the first time, either. Throwing the blankets back as she sat up, she looked over at the clock that was sitting on the nightstand.

"Eleven o'clock," she muttered, standing up before pulling her robe on.

Making her way to the front door, she sighed when she realized the Goth's screaming had stopped. She turned around and headed back to bed, satisfied with the knowledge that the young couple had most likely taken their games to the bedroom.

Halfway back to bed, she stopped suddenly, hearing the front door slam shut for the second time that night. She rushed over to the door and pulled it open, poking her head out just in time to see Tony heading for the stairs at the end of the hall.

McGee looked up from the notes he was diligently writing, seeing the older woman across from him drop her head, tears flowing down her cheeks. He fought to keep his emotions in check, clearing his throat before speaking.

"You… you're sure it was Tony?"

Mrs. Sampson shook her head, wiping the tears away. "It looked like him. Same build… he was wearing a black sweatshirt. I didn't see his face, but if I had to put money on it… I'd say it was him."

**0713 Hours â€"Motel, Downtown D.C.**

A quiet groan escaped him as he rolled over on the hard mattress, the empty bottle clinking against the floor as it toppled off of the bed. He forced his tired eyes open, only to shut them again immediately as the harsh sunlight assaulted his retinas.

Rolling over onto his back again, he grabbed the pillow from the other side of the bed and pulled it over his face to stifle the growl of frustration that escaped him. After a moment, he allowed it to fall away before he pushed himself up, wincing at the pain in his right hand.

Glancing down, he noticed the series of cuts peppering his knuckles and he couldn't even bring himself to imagine how they'd gotten there this time. Shaking his head in disgust, he immediately regretted the motion when his stomach turned violently, forcing him off of the bed as he stumbled into the dingy bathroom.

Dropping to his knees in front of the toilet bowl, he gripped the edges, preparing for the worst. Thankfully, he was able to swallow back the nausea before he could dirty the toilet any further. Taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm his stomach, he dropped his head to his hands, trying to recall the events from the previous night.

It took everything he had to remember getting home the night before, and he released a heavy sigh, knowing that once again he wasn't going to be able to remember anything that happened.

"Fuck. And you wonder why we're fallin' apart at the seams," he said, throwing his head back against the filthy wall of the bathroom.

Pushing himself off the floor, he leaned over the sink and looked into the mirror, ashamed of himself. It was far from the first time that he had blacked out only to wake up in some fleabag motel on the bad side of town, wondering what had happened to get him there, but it didn't stop him from losing a little respect for himself every time.

Wincing just slightly in the dim light of the room, he glared at his reflection, snorting at the small cut just above his eye. It wasn't the first time he'd come away with injuries after one of their fights and he was positive that it wouldn't be the last.

Turning on the faucet, he allowed the water to run until it was clear before he leaned over, splashing his face with the cool liquid in an attempt to clear his hazy mind.

When he stood back up, he closed his eyes tightly against the sudden rush of blood to his head that intensified his headache. It took all the strength he had to remain standing as he made his way back to the bed, collapsing on it and pulling a pillow over his head, hoping that when he woke up again, it would all turn out to be a nightmare.

**1000 Hoursâ€"NCIS**

Stepping off the elevator, the three agents made their way into the bullpen, each wearing identical masks of despair. Processing the apartment had taken its toll on them all and though they'd never admit as much out loud, it had been a blessing when Johnson's team arrived, taking over the scene.

Gibbs had started to protest, warning his colleague that the case was his. The only thing that had stopped him was the look of sadness in the slightly younger agent's eye as he clapped Gibbs on the shoulder, telling him that the entire agency wanted a hand in this one.

For awhile, Gibbs had forgotten that they all worked closely with the Goth. He hadn't realized, until that very moment, that her death had affected them nearly as much as it affected his people and he couldn't bring himself to deny them the satisfaction of helping to bring her murderer to justice.

With the evidence that they'd collected from the kitchen, his team had returned to the building to begin what was going to be the hardest murder they'd ever investigated.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he took a deep breath before he began barking orders at Ziva and McGee.

"Ziva, I want phone records, credit card statements and anything else you can get a hold of that might help with this investigation. McGeeâ€""

"I've already told Stevens that I need Abby's computer, Boss."

"Home and work computers," Gibbs corrected before he sank down at the chair behind his own desk. "And I want DiNozzo."

"Nobody's heard from Tony all morning."

"Then you find him!"

McGee hesitated for only a fraction of a second before he leaned over his computer and typed in Tony's cell phone number. Swallowing hard as he waited for the program to give him a location, he leaned forward and closed his eyes, resting his head in his hands. He'd been hoping all morning that he'd wake up to find out this was all a bad dream.

Taking a deep breath, he sat upright and leaned back in his chair when his computer beeped, indicating a hit.

"You got a location?" Gibbs asked gruffly.

"Yeah…" McGee responded, his face screwed up in a frown. "But Boss… this can't be right. It says he's right…"

The sound of the elevator doors dinging caught the agent's attention. Glancing over, his eyes widened slightly as the man in question stepped off onto the third floor, dropping his pack behind his desk.

"Where have you been, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, his voice sharp as the younger man look over at him. "Been tryin' to get a hold of you all mornin'."

"Sorry, Boss. Must've left my phone at the gym again," Tony said by way of explanation, hoping that there wouldn't be too many more questions. The team knew that he and Abby had more than their fair share of fights, and their tendency to turn even the smallest disagreements into World War 3 didn't exactly make for a happy home.

The older man could feel the anger bubbling up in his chest, making his gut twist uncomfortably. "What happened to your head?" He asked, barely managing to keep his voice even.

"What?" The Italian asked, picking a disk up from his desk and using it as a mirror. "I… you know how Abs likes to play rough. Must've been so caught up in the moment I don't remember it happening."

"Make up your mind, DiNozzo. Were you at the gym, or at home in bed?"

"I…" He hesitated, looking curiously at McGee and Ziva, silently asking what had gotten into their boss. "I was at the gym 'til around 2100, then home. What's goin' on?"

Both the Junior Agent and the Israeli looked at each other before turning their attention back to the silver-haired man that stood in the center of the bullpen, staring at Tony.

"Boss…"

"Interrogation One. Now," he stated simply, effectively cutting his Senior Agent off.

"Gibbs," Tony tried again, a nervous laugh escaping him as he eyed Ziva and McGee again. "You can't be serious. I know I fucked up, but is it reallyâ€""

Despite the fact that he'd held himself together up until this point, just the sound of Tony's voice was enough to push him over the edge. Turning on him, his blue eyes flashed angrily as he backed his agent up against the half wall surrounding the squad room.

Behind him, a quiet gasp escaped Ziva as she stood up, frantically trying to decide what she should do.

"Stop."

Director Vance had appeared at the top of the stairs, his brown eyes watching his agents intently. He'd seen, unbeknownst to them, everything from the moment DiNozzo had stepped off the elevator until the split second that Gibbs had nearly assaulted him.

He'd seen enough.

"Agent DiNozzo," he began, making his descent down the stairs. He didn't miss the relieved look on the younger man's face as Gibbs took a step back, his blue eyes flashing again.

"Director," he greeted, his voice cracking just slightly, tugging at the bottom of his shirt in an attempt to straighten it while mentally cursing himself for sounding so frightened.

" Interrogation Room One," Vance said, eyeing Gibbs carefully as he spoke to the agent.

"Director, with all due respectâ€""

"Wasn't a request or a suggestion. That was an order. Go."

Tony forced himself to stand up straight as he nodded at the older man. "Yes, sir," he said, turning and making his way to the elevators without a second glance at his boss or his coworkers.

The Director watched as the elevator doors closed before he turned to Gibbs, eyeing the silver-haired man carefully. "He a person of interest?"

"He is now," Gibbs responded gruffly. "McGee, I want a copy of the security footage from his gym."

"On it, Boss."

"Ziva, you get to work on those phone statements."

"Where are you going?" The Israeli asked, though she immediately regretted the statement as Gibbs turned, glaring at her. "I… I just meant thatâ€""

"I need more coffee."

McGee and Ziva watched as Gibbs made his way towards the stairs, both of them jumping slightly at the sound of the heavy metal door colliding with the wall.

**1207 hoursâ€"Observation Room One**

He watched carefully as his agent paced in the next room, reminding him briefly of a caged animal. For the first hour after being sent down to interrogation, Tony had managed to maintain his composure. He'd appeared unconcerned with the fact that he'd been banished from the squad room, but it hadn't taken long for his seemingly cool demeanor to crack.

Lifting the coffee cup to his lips, Gibbs took a long drink, ignoring the feeling of the liquid burning down his throat as he narrowed his eyes, watching as Tony stopped in front of the two way mirror, running his hands through his disheveled hair.

"I know you're in there!"

He paused, as though expecting an answer before he resumed his pacing. Gibbs watched the Italian take a deep breath in an effort to calm himself before he stopped in front of the glass again.

"If this is all because of that stupid fight last night, she's the one who threw the glass. I know you're protective of her, Gibbs, but this is a little ridiculous. She's not as innocent as you always make her out to be, and I have the marks to prove it!"

A quiet curse escaped the man as he ran his bruised hand through his hair again before he stopped, pressing his knuckles to the mirror. "I didn't hit her, if that's what you're thinkin'. I wouldn't do that to her, Boss. You know I wouldn't hurt her. I know it probably looks like it, but that's from the wall. You can go check if you don't believe me."

Clenching his jaw at the sound of his agent's pleas, it took every ounce of strength Gibbs possessed to keep from slamming his fist against the two way mirror that separated them. He was torn from the inside out. Innocent until proven guilty was the way the saying went, but something about Tony was off. As much as he wanted to believe the younger man, until they had concrete evidence pointing them in another direction, he was the only link they had to Abby's murder.

Guilty until proven innocent.

The sound of the door opening caught his attention, though he couldn't tear his eyes away from Tony.

"Uh… Boss?"

"What, McGee?"

The young man released a bone weary sigh as he stepped further into observation, running a hand over his face. "Nothing unusual about Abby's phone or credit card statements. We're still waiting on access to her computers, but the other teams haven't finished processing the apartment yet."

"And the gym?"

"They just called and said the tape is ready."

"Take Ziva."

Nodding more to himself than anything, McGee started for the door again, though he hesitated slightly. "Um… Gibbs?"

"What?"

"I was just… You don't think Tony…?" He trailed off, leaving the question hanging in the air.

"I don't know, Tim," was the quiet response. Finally pulling his gaze away from Tony, he glanced over at his Junior Agent, noting the way the young man's shoulders were slumped miserably. "You said there was nothin' unusual about her phone bill? No weird calls?"

"None. She uh… she did make a few calls to the law offices of Robyn Nichols. I um… I don't know if you're familiar, butâ€""

"Divorce lawyer. Wife number two."

McGee nodded again, swallowing hard as he glanced back into interrogation. "Do you think Tony knew?"

"He knew," Gibbs sighed and scrubbed at his face roughly. "They always know. Go on," he said, nodding to the door.

Turning his attention back to interrogation, Gibbs took another long drink of his coffee as Tony sank down into the chair, dropping his head into his hands. Something did not feel right. "McGee?"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Mikel Mawher."

"What about him?"

"Go pay him a visit. You find out what he's been up to, where he's been hidin'."

"Boss, his number didn't come up at all on her cell phone records. That was the first thing we checked."

Turning to glare at his agent, Gibbs almost had to suppress a smile at the deer-caught-in-headlights look.

"I uh… I'll get right on that."

He watched as his youngest agent left the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. Closing his eyes, he drained the last bit of his coffee into his mouth, swallowing it down before releasing a heavy groan.

Keeping his eyes on Tony, he sank down into the chair typically reserved for the A/V technician and watched the younger man carefully. He wanted nothing more than to go in there and break him like he had done to so many suspects before him, but the uncomfortable feeling in his gut was preventing him from doing so.

Gibbs knew he had to wait for more evidence before going forward, and somewhere deep inside he hoped they would find something, anything, to take the spotlight off of his Senior Agent before he was forced to go in there and accuse him of murdering his wife.

The majority of the car ride had been silent, save for the radio that McGee had turned on. After picking up the surveillance video from Tony's gym, they headed in the direction of Mikel Mawher's crime scene cleanup business, unsure of what they were expected to find.

Gibbs was anxious to find anything that would potentially clear Tony, and Mikel was at the top of everyone's suspect list.

"I can't believe Tony would do something like this," McGee said, his voice breaking the nearly hour long silence. "I mean… he claimed to love her, right? And Andy… he was his pride and joy. I don't… I don't know what he'd do without him."

"He did love her. Does… love her," Ziva corrected herself. "He will always love her. Why else would he have married her?"

"He got her pregnant. Tony may be a playboy, but he knew that she has strong religious beliefs."

"You are not actually suggesting that he killed her?"

McGee shrugged, swallowing hard. "I don't want to, but Gibbs… he seems pretty sure. When was the last time his gut was wrong about anything? Especially something concerning Abby?"

"He did not do this," the Israeli said, shaking her head vehemently. "He would never… he loves her," she repeated.

Turning to glare out of the window, she closed her eyes, trying to push the thoughts from her mind.

They pulled up outside of the building that used to house Mikel's business, both of them frowning darkly when they realized that the building had been vacant for quite some time.

"Gibbs is not gonna like this," McGee sighed, shaking his head as he pulled out his cell phone.

"McGee," Ziva called, holding the door open when he turned around, a smile on her face. "He would want us to check the apartment out, no?"

Snapping the phone closed between his fingers, he followed the younger woman into the building, resting his hand on his Sig. Making their way to the back of the building, they headed up the stairs slowly before reaching the abandoned apartment at the top of the stairs.

The apartment was empty, not something either of them found to be too surprising.

"He has not been here for quite some time," Ziva observed with a sigh, running a gloved finger over the countertop in the kitchen and grimacing at the amount of dust that covered the surface.

"Yeah. This was still listed as his current address though." Walking into the bedroom, he found more of the same until he opened the closet door. "Uh… Ziva?"

She joined him in the bedroom, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of the shrine that the man had dedicated to their forensic scientist. "This is an old one. There are no recent pictures of her and it, like the rest of the apartment, is also covered in dust." Turning around, she pulled her gun out at the sound of footsteps on the stairs, only to find a short balding man standing in the doorway.

"You guys the ones that were interested in buyin'?"

"No," McGee sighed, motioning for Ziva to put her gun away. "Who are you?"

"I own the buildin'. I'm expectin' a couple to come check out the apartment this afternoon, and I thought I'd come straighten up a little. You guys cops?

"It needs it desperately," Ziva muttered, narrowing her eyes at McGee when he glared at her.

"We're actually looking for your former tenant, Mikel Mawher."

"That creep? He's been gone for almost two years now. Stiffed me on the rent. He owned me for six months!"

"Any idea where he went?"

"Think I'd still be waitin' for my money if I did?" He snorted. "Said somethin' about a cousin in California or Oregon. Only family he's got, I think. He was the emergency contact on the lease."

McGee and Ziva looked at each other for a second before returning their attention to the balding man. "Do you still have his lease?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. It's back at the office. I can fax you a copy."

"Thank you," Ziva said, watching as her partner stalked out of the room without another word, heading back downstairs. Handing the older man one of her cards, she gave him a small smile and followed McGee out to the car. "What was all that about?"

"He's gone, Ziva. He was the most likely person…"

"I know. We will… figure something out."

"There's nothing to figure out! You know, I had an awful feelin' when Gibbs told me to check this place out that we were going to come up empty handed, but I hoped…" He trailed off, dropping his head to his chest as he took a deep breath.

"He did not do this," Ziva said quietly, shaking her head. "You have to believe that. If we, as members of his team, do not believe it, how can we expect a courtroom to?"

"I don't know if I can believe it, Zee," McGee responded, his voice cracking slightly. "You heard her talk about the fights and you know how he gets when things don't go his way."

"Stop it. Tony is a good person. How many times has he put himself in harm's way to save your ass? Or mine? Or Gibbs'?"

"He is a good person when he's not drinking. When he is, he's not…He's not Tony."

"You should be ashamed of yourself," she snarled, pulling the car door open with more force than necessary. "You are allowing your feelings for Abby to cloud your judgment."

"Don't go there, Ziva."

"Do you honestly believe that no one noticed the way you could not take your eyes off of her? Or the way you were suspiciously absent when she had Andy? You are a fool if you think no one knew of your feelings for her."

"Yeah, so I had feelings for her. It killed me when she came and told me she was having Tony's baby. Then they married. So, yeah. Maybe I'm letting my feelings out a little more than I should, but… she wasn't happy."

"You do not know that."

"She told me, time and again and I didn't do anything. I should have done something. I should have…" he stopped, swallowing hard against the lump that had formed in his throat. Slumping back against the side of the car, he released a shaky breath before looking up at his partner. "She stayed because she thought she had no other options. And I let her. I didn't try to convince her otherwise. Maybe if I had…"

"He did not do this. They had their problems, but what married couple did not? Can you honestly stand here and tell me that you believe he killed her?"

"I don't know what to believe anymore, Ziva."

She eyed him carefully before she offered him a curt nod and slid into the driver's side of the car. "Get in," she said coldly, pulling the door shut. She could feel the tension radiating off of him as he slid into the seat beside her, reaching for the surveillance tape. He glanced down at it, feeling the weight of it in his hands. Closing his eyes, he said a silent prayer, hoping against hope that they would find Tony on the tape despite the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him they wouldn't.

**1556 Hoursâ€"Squad Room**

Screwing his eyes shut as the plasma went dark, McGee dropped his head into his hands, his breath coming out in harsh gasps. At his side, Ziva continued to stare at the black screen, her eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

"Three times," McGee managed, his voice hoarse as he pushed himself to his feet. "We've watched this tape three times! Did you see him on there?"

"There has to be an explanation," the Israeli muttered, shaking her head. "He had a reason for not telling Gibbs the truth."

"Other than the fact that he's hiding something?" McGee scoffed, barely resisting the urge to put his fist through the screen. "Jesus, Ziva. How can you still be defending him?"

"Because he did not do it!"

"You two better have somethin'." Both agents jumped at the gruff voice as Gibbs stalked into the bullpen, cup of coffee in hand. "And it better be good."

"No such luck, Boss," McGee responded, glaring at Ziva.

"Mawher?"

"He's been gone for years. Living out in California with an older cousin. Made contact and confirmed it."

Had they been paying attention, they would have noticed the way Gibbs sagged just a little at the news. He'd been counting on the Mawher angle, hoping against hope that he was the psycho they were looking for. He'd known, even before he sent his two agents after the young man, that it was a long shot, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed that it hadn't panned out.

That only left one alternative.

"And the tape?" He asked, though he already knew by the looks on their faces that the news wasn't good. Clenching his teeth, he braced himself for the blow he knew was coming. "He wasn't at the damn gym last night."

"No," McGee responded, shaking his head as he glanced over at Ziva. "He wasn't. Unless he was able to avoid every camera in the place."

Ziva stepped forward, shooting McGee an angry glare. "I am sure he has his reasons, Gibbs."

"He'd better," the silver-haired growled.

"You cannot believe he did this. Heâ€""

"What the hell am I supposed to believe, Agent David?" He roared, turning on the younger woman, his blue eyes angry. "Do you have another suspect? There was no forced entry, she was inquiring about a divorce… sounds like means and a motive to me!"

The Israeli floundered for a moment, searching for the words that would explain what she was feeling. Before she could get anything out, the older man had turned away again, stalking toward the elevators to confront the Senior Agent.

He didn't even hesitate as he opened the door to Interrogation One, slamming his hand on the metal table. He took a bit of pleasure in the way Tony flinched at the sound, his green eyes wide.

"Jesus, Gibbs! What the hell isâ€""

"Where's your knife?"

The younger man cocked an eyebrow at him, leaning back in the metal chair he was sitting in. "My knife?"

"Where. Is. Your. Knife?"

"Gibbs, I…"

"I'm only gonna ask you one more time, DiNozzo," he warned, his voice oddly steady. "Where is it?"

Tony's hand immediately went to his belt, frowning when he realized that the combat knife he carried was missing. "Must've left it at home or something. Maybe at the gym."

"I know you weren't at the damn gym last night."

"I was! Iâ€""

He didn't get the opportunity to finish his sentence as his boss pulled him out of the chair by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the mirrored window, splintering the two-way glass. "Who do you think you're foolin'?"

"I… I…" he struggled, trying to pull the older man's hand away from his throat. He slumped forward when Gibbs released him, resting his hands against his knees as he attempted to regain his breath. "I'm not trryin' to fool…"

The silver-haired agent threw a picture of Abby that Ziva had taken earlier that morning onto the table, sending the agent into a stunned silence. "I…" He looked back to the freshly cracked window and frowned. "She's in there, isn't she? Did she put you up to this? Abby!"

Gibbs watched silently as his Senior Agent pressed an accusing finger against the window. "God dammit Abby! This is not funny! Look, I don't… I don't quite remember everything that happened last night, but it sure as hell doesn't justify this disgusting joke! Get your ass in here and talk to me!"

"DiNozzo! Knife!"

Tony turned back to face him and frowned darkly. "I don't…" Before he could finish his explanation, he felt a solid fist meeting his jaw, sending him stumbling back until he hit the mirror. "Fuck!"

He was on the younger man in seconds, holding him against the mirror with his forearm, cutting off his airway. The door to the small room slammed open a second later and Vance hurried into the room, pulling him away from Tony.

"Stand down, Agent Gibbs." He could feel the rage radiating off of the older man, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I need you to go assist Agent McGee upstairs."

"Like hell I will, Leon! I'm not goin' anywhere!"

"Agent Gibbs, that is a direct order!"

He could see Gibbs fighting with himself, his blue eyes flashing angrily. For a split second, Vance wondered if he was going to give into his desire to deck him, but after a moment, the team leader stepped back, nodding curtly.

"I'm not finished with you yet, DiNozzo," the older man warned. "You'd better pray to God that I can't find anything to connect you to this, because so help meâ€""

"That is enough," Vance declared, nodding at the door. "Out. This is my interrogation now."

Turning back to the agent in question, the Director waited until Gibbs backed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He'd told his agent to return to the squad room, but he knew that Gibbs hadn't gone anywhere except for the other side of that mirror.

Releasing a quiet sigh, he gestured to the chair. "Sit down, Agent DiNozzo."

"What the hell is going on here?"

"Sit down," he repeated, narrowing his eyes just slightly as if daring the younger man to refuse.

Taking a page out of Gibbs' book, Tony appeared as though he was going to argue for a minute before he sank down into the chair, reaching for the picture that had been left on the table.

"She's not… she's not in that room, is she?"

Lowering himself to the chair on the opposite side of the table, the Director leaned back, eyeing his agent briefly before he shook his head. "No. No, she's not."

Swallowing hard, Tony clenched his injured fist beneath the table, setting his jaw before he finally tore his eyes away from the photo. "What do you need to know?"

"Tell me what happened last night."

"I don't… I don't know. We fought again but I couldn't… I couldn't even tell you what it was about. They all start runnin' together after awhile," he said, a bitter laugh escaping him before he shoved the picture away, unable to look at it any longer.

"Then how about you tell me what you do know?"

"She was angry, but again, that was nothing new. After… after we started arguing… I don't know."

"And where did you go? Did anyone see you after you left? Anyone that can confirm you were not in that apartment?"

"I don't know! I can't… I can't remember! I'd… I'd had a little to drink before she came home because I knew what it was gonna be like when she got there!"

"How? How did you know?"

Another bitter laugh tore from his throat. "Guess the good gossip didn't make it upstairs. Everyone knew what it was like when we were both there. We loved each other, but I'd venture to say that most days, she didn't like me very much."

"Then why did you stay?"

"She's the mother of my son," he responded, swallowing hard. "I didn't… I love her and Andy. I wanted to make things work."

"What was the fight about? Why was she so angry with you?"

"Because I'm a better agent than I am a husband and father."

Vance leaned back again, regarding the younger man carefully before shrugging. "She was a grown up. Why didn't she leave?"

"She was," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "She retained a divorce lawyer three weeks ago."

"How did you find out about that?"

The Italian scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "You think McGee's the only one who knows how to run a search for phone records? She was sneakin' around. Taking the phone into the other room when it rang… what can I say? The green eyed monster inside of me took over. At first… at first I thought she was seein' someone else," he said, a tinge of anger in his voice. "But when I found out the truth… Well, I don't know which option is worse."

The two men fell silent, lost in their own thoughts. After what seemed like an eternity, the Director pushed the chair back from the table, picking up the picture that laid between them, a harsh reminder of what they'd all lost.

He said nothing as he made his way to the door, though Tony's quiet voice stopped him.

"I want to see Andy."

"Not an option right now, Agent DiNozzo. Right now, Andy's withâ€""

"I don't give a damn where it is you're keeping him! I want him now!"

"It would not be in his best interest at the moment," Vance responded firmly.

"Like hell it wouldn't! My son just lost his mother! I'm all he's got left!"

"For now."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Tony asked, recoiling slightly at the accusation in his voice.

"It means don't leave town, DiNozzo. Until we have this thing figured out, you stay close by. This agency is not finished with you yet."

Stepping out of the interrogation room, the Director pulled the door closed behind him, sagging just slightly as he eyed the door to observation. Taking a moment to collect himself, he released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and drawing himself up to full height, he entered the room.

"Thought I told you to go upstairs?"

"You can fire me over it later, Leon," Gibbs grunted, his eyes never leaving Tony.

"This whole window's gonna need to be replaced."

"Add it to my tab."

"Already plannin' on it," Vance responded, joining his agent at the window. "I'm releasing him, Jethro."

"You can't do that! He's the only suspectâ€""

"Person of interest," the Director corrected. "We have nothing to hold him on and truthfully, I'm not one hundred percent sure he did it."

"And I'm not so sure he didn't."

"You're letting your emotional attachments cloud your judgment. You've been throwin' yourself under the bus to cover his ass for years and now, you're so hell bent on finding someone to blame, you aren't taking the facts into consideration."

"What facts, Leon? The fact that there was no sign of forced entry? Or maybe you're talkin' about the fact that he can't even remember where the hell he was last night? Doesn't sound very convincing to me!" Gibbs spat. "How the hell am I supposed to take the 'facts' into consideration when we have none? All we know was that he was there, they fought, and then all of a sudden he can't remember shit? What else am I supposed to think?"

"You don't think. You investigate. And when you have something concrete for me, something that places him there at the time of the murder, then we'll haul his ass back in."

"You're makin' a mistake," the slightly older man responded as the Director made his way to the door. "Give me a little more time on this one, Leon."

"I want to close this as much as you do, Gibbs. If for no other reason than because she deserves it. But just because DiNozzo is a convenient suspect… we cannot forget that he is also an agent. An agent who just lost his wife." Without another word, the Director stepped out of the observation room, closing the door behind him, leaving Gibbs alone with the tech.

"Gimme a minute, will you?"

"Of course, sir," the technician said with a nod before he pushed himself to his feet, making his way out of the room as well.

Releasing a quiet sigh, Gibbs leaned forward, studying his agent carefully. Just as he was about to leave the room, the sound of the door opening in interrogation caught his attention, and a second later, Ziva stepped inside, her face set in a frown.

"Tony…" she said quietly, her voice slightly distorted through the sound equipment. He watched her carefully as she crossed the room, dropping a gentle hand to her partner's shoulder. "I am… I am so sorry for your loss."

Shrugging her hand off, the Italian pushed himself to his feet. "Can I go now?" He asked, his voice tight as he started for the door without waiting for an answer.

Swallowing hard, the raven-haired woman nodded, watching helplessly as he pulled the door open and stepped outside, leaving her alone in the room. Reaching up to swipe at the single tear that slid down her cheek, she glanced over at the ruined two-way mirror briefly before she followed after him, turning off the light and pulling the door closed behind her.

Staring into the empty room, Gibbs clenched his hands into fists at his sides, the anger and injustice of the entire situation welling up in his chest until he tempted to finish off the mirror. Stepping away just slightly, he glared at his reflection for a moment before he turned and left observation.

"You bastard," he cursed quietly. "You're mine.