Disclaimer : NCIS and the characters do not belong to me…which is a good thing because if they did, Rule #12 would have been broken multiple times by now. :-)


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Prologue
They stumbled out of the club, clutching each other's hands and laughing at some joke, shared only moments ago. The rain from earlier on in the evening had subsided, causing a light mist to rise up off of the warm streets.

The couple proceeded to walk down the street, oblivious to the late night humidity. The garish blue and pink neon lights of the club slowly melted back into the dark distance and the steady thump-thump-thump of the music gave way to the silence of the night, broken only by their bursts of laughter.

"Come on…the park's this way…I think!" The young woman giggled, stumbling in her high heels. Her male companion caught her, laughing at her lack of coordination.

"I can't believe you talked me into this!" He protested weakly. "I'm too old for playground antics."

"Pish posh!" She replied, trying to push a strand of dark, curly hair out of her mouth with her tongue. Unsuccessful with that method, her fingers clumsily grabbed the offending follicles and pulled them behind an ear. "You know my motto…old enough to know better, young enough not to care! You only live once…there is no reset button."

Sliding an arm around her waist, the man pulled her closer to him. They had stopped walking.

"If that's the case," he started, staring into her green eyes, "Then why are wasting our time trying to find a park…in the dark…?"

She pulled away, laughing. "Because it's fun!"

He followed, yelling after her, "But there's other stuff that's much more fun!"

"And we can try your idea of fun later!" She pulled of her shoes and ran on to the grass. "I promise!"

He caught up to her, spotting the park in front of her.

"So…now what?" He asked, standing closely behind her.

"Swing!" She called out happily. Running through the sandbox, she dropped her shoes and spotted the swing she wanted. Right in the middle of a set, she sat down and wiggled until she was as comfortable as the rubber seat would allow.

"Push?" She asked in a little-girl voice.

"I'm only to happy to oblige, miss." He bowed gallantly, his dark hair, damp from the mist, shone in the glow from the distant park lights.

Stepping behind her, he placed his hands where the rubber seat curved up to meet the chains. Gently brushing her hips as he wrapped his hands around the chains, he pushed her.

"Wheeee!" She laughed. "Higher!"

"Yes, ma'am!" He grinned. It was nice to see her like this. He usually saw her so serious and business-like. Tonight had been an evening of revelations…good discoveries, leaving him wanting to learn more about her.

After several minutes of hard pushing, he stepped back and called out. "You're on your own…I'll just watch."

"Okay!" She yelled back, using her feet to gain momentum.

Higher and higher she swung…as if she could touch the stars. She laughed out loud, enjoying the moment of free-fall before the swing began a descent downwards. Then higher and higher. The stars became closer and closer.

She heard a noise, like a hushed gasp or the sound of air filling a vacuum. She thought it was the wind or maybe something far in the distance.

Higher and higher…pause…she began to swing down. As she began her backwards ascent, her back to the moon, her green eyes widened. Her mouth opened and she screamed.

Her companion was staring up at her, his mouth open…his blue eyes vacant…his throat slashed.

Screaming loudly, she stopped using her legs and slowly the swing came to a halt. Turning, she looked at her friend lying in the sand and screamed again.

A police officer, driving past the park as part of his regular rounds, heard the screaming and turned his car towards the noise. Pulling into a parking spot, he flashed on his high-beams to see a bare-foot young woman, with dark, curly hair, screaming and standing over a body.

He called into dispatch…


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Chapter 1

"The poor man is Captain Jason Reed. He's in the Canadian Army." Stated medical examiner Doctor Donald Mallard, known as ‘Ducky' by his co-workers. He pushed his glasses up, acknowledging the pair of feet standing beside him in the sandbox.

"You found his id?" Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs questioned, his blue eyes not leaving the body of the young man.

"Actually, no." Ducky admitted. He dipped his head towards the young woman who was sitting in the back of an ambulance, clutching a grey wool blanket draped over her shoulders. "His friend, Miss Sara McLean, told us his name…once she stopped crying."

Gibbs shot a look at the woman. Even from here, he could see that her mascara had run down her cheeks and that her lipstick had been chewed off by her habit of gnawing her lower lip. He took a sip of his coffee; the fifth one of the morning and he started his day only a few hours back.

Special Agent Timothy McGee had caught up with his boss in time to hear the victim's name.

"A military visitor with no identification on him, boss? In Washington? That's not right." McGee frowned.

"Neither is the fact that he's lying face up and dead in a park, McGee." Gibbs shot back.

"Uh, right, boss." Tim bobbed his head quickly, embarrassed at his rather obvious statement.

Ducky smiled kindly at McGee.

"I'm not done examining him yet, Gibbs. Why don't you talk to his young friend?"

Gibbs nodded absently, before stating, "Cause of death was the slashing of the throat."

"Exactly." Ducky confirmed. "Or to use the more precise terminology, our Captain experienced a sudden…"

Gibbs walked away, leaving Ducky to conduct his usual dissertation to himself and his assistant, Jimmy, who just arrived on the scene.

"Nice of you to join us, Mr. Palmer." The silver-haired agent called out as he walked towards the ambulance. Noticing an absence behind him, he barked out McGee's name.

Scurrying to catch up, Tim almost ran into his boss.

"Sorry, Gibbs. I was just taking some notes."

"Take ‘em in your head, McGee. If you're writing everything down now, you'll miss what's going on around you." Gibbs dispensed this piece of advice casually, like most things he said. One didn't realize he was providing a training lesson until it was almost over.

"Right." McGee snapped the cover on his PDA shut.

"Miss McLean?" Jethro approached the woman, her soft hiccups serving as pointed reminders of her recent hysterics. "I'm Special Agent Gibbs. Can you tell me what happened here?"

"What does it look like, Special Agent?" Green eyes flashed at him, anger replacing her sadness, if only for a moment. "Jason was killed."

His lips thinned at the rebuke.

"I can see that part. I was hoping you could tell me what happened leading up to your friend's unfortunate end."

"We went out last night. It was supposed to be fun. Get away from the pressures at work, you know?" Sara's eyes glazed over, recalling the evening…the laughter, the music, the dancing.

"McGee! Notes!" Gibbs barked.

"But you said…" McGee protested.

"Take notes when someone's talking, McGee." Gibbs voice sounded strained, as if questioningwhether some higher being was determined to give him agents incapable of common sense. "You don't have to document that the sun is shining and the wind is blowing from the west-southwest. Now take notes!"

"Right, boss." McGee flipped open his PDA and began taking down Sara McLean's statement. Silently, he noted that the wind was indeed blowing from the west-southwest direction.

"We went out for supper to Autocourse…you know, that new trendy restaurant that has racing stuff on the walls?"

Gibbs nodded absently. Damned if he knew anything about this restaurant.

"And then we went to Club Lagos. Jason knows someone who knows someone who let us in. No line. No cover." Sara's eyes closed and she smiled at the memory of feeling like someone important."

"Nice." McGee commented. "Club Lagos is very exclusive. It's got a water-theme going on; water on the walls, fountains at the tables. Very chic."

Sara turned her gaze towards McGee, as if noticing him for the first time.

"Yeah. It was so amazing that Jason got us in. Time flew."

"And then?" Gibbs prodded. "You left the club…"

"Yeah…it was around 2:30 in the morning. We were laughing at how we going to look at work today…." Sara's voice trailed off, a look of horror crossing her face.

"Oh my god…work! They'll know! No one was to find out that we were going out. It was against the rules."

"The rules?" Gibbs questioned, his eyes narrowing.

"Coworkers aren't supposed to date…our supervisor told us. Oh, we can socialize on a certain level, but no dates. What will I tell them?"

"Actually, Miss McLean, I'd be more concerned about how you're going to tell them that Mr. Reed is dead."

Sara started to sob, her body racking with each intake of breath. McGee shot a look at Gibbs as if to say What-were-you-thinking?

Shrugging, Gibbs walked away.