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Author's Chapter Notes:
Both teams set out to follow fresh leads on their 'connected' cases. Meanwhile, Hetty makes a phone call to a 'special friend' for help.
"A New Nightmare, Part Two"

--Chapter Four--

Gibbs was sound asleep in his shack/house when the satellite phone he'd gotten for his last birthday started beeping on the table by the Chest-of-Drawers.

Gibbs rolled over to the side in his hammock that he slept in, and tried to ignore it, through the haziness of his sleepiness.

"Just a few more--minutes." he mumbled, through a yawn.

The satellite phone beeped again, and this time Gibbs actually sat up in the hammock. He rubbed is eyes as he looked around the shack/house. Then he realized what it was that was making the sound he was hearing.

He climbed down out of the hammock and crossed the room to where the satellite phone was plugged up to its battery charger.

He pressed the receive button, and then held it up to his ear. "Hello." he mumbled, still rubbing his eyes.

"Mr. Gibbs." came the voice of Hetty Lange over the phone.

"Who is this?" he asked, groggily.

"Hetty Lange." she replied with a slight chuckle.

"Oh, Hetty." he said, blinking several times to rid himself of the sleep still lingering in his eyes. "Sorry I--What can I do for you?"

"I'm calling about Ms. Scuito--or rather, Mrs. Beal," Hetty explained.

Now Gibbs was wide awake.

"What happened to Abby!?" he asked, immediately, fearing the worst.

Hetty coughed a small cough, and then continued. "We have found ourselves in need of your assistance Mr. Gibbs." she explained. "You see someone has absconded with Mr. Beal--and it has young Abby quite distraught." she continued.

"We've managed to narrow our search to what we believe to be a group of Russian Radicals, supposedly carrying out some secret endeavor here in L.A.--My team has also tracked their movements/activities to Washington D.C." she explained to Gibbs.

"Have you notified DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, looking across the room at a still slumbering Tobias Fornell.

"Indeed we have." Hetty replied. "Their 'babysitter' happens to be the connection between D.C. and us."

"Their babysitter?" Gibbs looked a little confused.

"She, unfortunately, was killed in an attack on her home just very recently--an attack that involved Agent DiNozzo's children." she added.

"How are they?" He asked, genuinely concerned about the two little girls.

"They are alright," Hetty reassured him. "They were taken to the hospital, immediately, and both Girls checked out fine--at least, that is what I was told."

"Good." Gibbs said, scratching his unshaven chin thoughtfully. "I'll catch the next red-eye headed towards L.A." he told her, seriously. "Tell Abby I'm coming." he added.

"I will." Hetty replied. "And I'll have a plane ticket waiting for you at the airport when you get there--just tell them Hetty Lange sent you." she told him.

"Alright." he said. "I will."

"We will talk more when you arrive Mr. Gibbs." Hetty told him.

"Yes. We will." He replied. Then they hung up on each other.








Meanwhile, in Washington D.C. ...

It was early morning.

Tony walked into D.C. General Hospital, and headed straight for the elevator. He knew, already, which floor that he needed to go to to find his wife and two daughters waiting for him to pick them up.

The elevator pinged, the doors opened up, and Tony stepped aboard the elevator car. As he stepped on another man was stepping off, and to Tony he looked a little weird for someone who lived in Washington D.C. or even in the surrounding area really.

He was muscular, but not overly muscular. His head was shaved down to a point where it looked like he had five o'clock shadow on his head. He wore an earring in his left ear, and had a tattoo on his shoulder that looked, actually, kind of creepy.

The tattoo on the man's shoulder was that of a grotesque-looking skull with what looked like clown make-up and a small clown nose on it. It also had a snake slithering out of the skull's mouth (which was curved up in some sort of evil grin).

The man wore dark, black jeans, that were kind of tight-looking on him, and a black vest over a white t-shirt. He had a pretty big bandage covering his right hand as well.

"Goths," Tony thought to himself, rolling his eyes as he pressed the switch for the fourth floor.

He waited patiently as the elevator climbed its way upwards towards the fourth floor. Finally, after a few minutes had passed, there was 'ping' sound, and then the elevator doors opened. He stepped out, and headed down the right hallway towards the room that had been designated for Talia and Gena to stay in over the last night.

He reached the door, and gave a slight knock before entering the room.

"Tony," Ziva said, quietly, standing up from the chair that she had been sitting in.

"How are my girls this morning?" he asked.

"Tired." Ziva replied. "This one finally woke up at 2:30 this morning, and so the doctor(s) had to come in and check on her--make sure everything was okay." Ziva explained, motioning to the slumbering baby cradled in her arms.

"And?" he asked.

"She will be fine." Ziva told her husband.

Tony nodded. "Good." he said, as he kissed his wife, and then he gently ran his fingers across Gena's cheek--finishing with a gentle kiss against the little girl's forehead.

"And what about you?" Tony asked Talia, who was sitting on the hospital bed watching cartoons on the TV.

Tony sat down on the bed beside her. After a minute or so of silence, he picked up the remote and switched off the television.

Talia finally sat up straight, but kept her eyes averted away from her father.

"Tali," Ziva started to say.

Tony held up his hand, and just shook his head at her. Mouthing to her that it was okay, and that he could handle it.

"Buttercup," Tony said softly, nudging the little girl gently in the side. "Wanna talk?"

Talia shook her head slowly at her father.

Tony had taken to calling Talia by the nickname "Buttercup", simply because one of Talia's favorite cartoons to watch was a show called "The PowerPuff Girls", and her favorite character in the show was a character called 'Buttercup'.

"Aww come one." Tony said softly, pulling his daughter closer to him. "You know you can talk to me about anything--right?"

She nodded, rubbing at her eyes as she did so.

"So tell me," he said. "What's the matter?"

She still did not look up at her father.

"I had a dream." she mumbled.

"Oh," Tony replied. "What kind of dream?" he asked, but then realized that she must be saying that she dreamed about what had happened the night before.

He rubbed his hand against her back, gently, letting her know that he understood completely.

"You dreamed about the bad men?"

Talia nodded, still rubbing her eyes as she did so.

"Why don't you tell me about it."

She shook her head. "No."

"You know," Tony began. "A bad person tried to hurt me one time." he told her, recalling (in his mind) the time he had been infected with Y-Pestis, and the time he had been captured and tortured while searching for a missing 'soldier', and also the time he and McGee had gone to rescue Ziva when she left NCIS after Michael Rivkin was killed.

"Where you scared?" Talia asked, quietly, now looking up at Tony.

"Of course I was," he said, with a knowing smile. "I even had bad dreams about it too--just like you."

"Really?"

"Really." Tony replied. "And I didn't want to talk about it either, but you know what?"

"What?" Talia asked.

"When I did talk about it--I felt lots better--in fact, I didn't feel so scared anymore." he told her.

Talia averted her eyes away from her father once again, as she let all of what she had just heard sink in good.

"The bad man," she spoke softly and slowly. "He wanted to hurt me-" she began, referring to her bad dream that she had had the night before.

"He told me the scary clown was gonna get me too." she continued, her voice beginning to crack a little bit as she spoke. "He put a snake in my hair." she added, finally breaking down now. She wrapped her arms, as best as she could, around her fathers' waist.

"Shhh." Tony said softly. "Its okay." he said softly, rubbing her shoulders, as she sobbed into his side.

"He can't hurt you now," Ziva told her, quietly.

"Mommy's right, Buttercup." Tony reassured her, lifting her face up to his with his finger. "He can't hurt you anymore," he reassured her.

"You promise?" she mumbled through tears.

"If the bad man wants to hurt you," Tony told her softly. "He'll have to hurt me too."

Talia shook her head, and then wrapped her arms, tighter, around her father. "I don't want the bad man to hurt you." she sobbed into his side.

Tony rubbed her shoulders again, and tried to calm and reassure his five year old daughter as they sat there on the bed together.

Just then Gena began to stir in Ziva's arms. "Someone's waking up." Ziva pointed out, as she shifted the little girl around in her arms.

"She'll probably be hungry." Tony said. "I know I'm usually hungry, after a nap." he added.

Ziva nodded at her husband. She walked across the room to where she had set the baby bag down on the second of the two chairs that were in the room. She began rummaging around inside it, with her free arm/hand, looking for a bottle. They had only recently began trying to wean Gena off of 'the good stuff', as Tony jokingly called it, and were still trying to get her used to drinking formula instead.

Then Ziva realized that she would have to go through a lot of trouble just to get a bottle ready for Gena; and that's when she decided to go an alternate route. She knew that he breasts had not completely quit producing milk, yet, because she still pumped some out in the mornings and such as party of the technique that she was using to get Gena used to formula--by intermingling the two together on occasion.

"You know what," Ziva said, moving the baby bag so that she could sit down in the chair. "I'm just gonna give her-"

"The 'Goodstuff'?" Tony joked, as he watched Ziva struggle to get one side of her long-sleeve shirt up.

"Yes Tony," she replied, rolling her eyes at her husband. "The 'Goodstuff'." she added.

"Do we have time?" she asked.

Tony looked down at his watch. "Well, McGee won't be at the office for another hour or so," he told her, looking up from his watch. "And its not really like he can do anything without me."

He thought for another minute more before continuing. "So, yeah, I'd say we have plenty of time."

"Good." she said, wincing slightly, as she felt Gena's mouth clamp down on her nipple and start to suckle.








Elsewhere...

"If I were you," the man with the mustache and heavy Russian accent was telling Eric. "I would cooperate--soon." he said, menacingly.

Eric was somewhere, tied up to a chair in the middle of a darkened room that was lit only in one area that he could see. That one area just happened to be the small area in which he was sitting, so he kind of felt like one of those guys in one of those old movies being grilled for information under a bright spotlight.

He now had a busted lip, a cut over his eye, and he felt like he had a bunch of other cuts and bruises as well in multiple areas on/around his body.

"I will never...betray...my fr-friends." he said, panting heavily.

The man with the mustache and heavy Russian accent clicked his tongue at Eric. "Tsk. Tsk." he clicked his tongue at Eric. "I'm afraid, Mr. Beal, that that--is the WRONG answer."

Without warning, the burly man launched his fist square into the middle of Eric's gut. Eric winced, from the pain of the blow, and doubled over gasping for air.

"If I were you," the burly man said, looking Eric in the eye(s). "I would choose cooperation now." he told him.

"Wh-Why?" Eric choked out.

The burly man chuckled, shooting an amused look at his partner who stood just a few feet away in the shadows.

"What I am doing," he said, waving a hand in the air. "Is mere...'Childs' Play' as you American's are found of saying." he explained, in a slightly amused tone. "Compared to what our leader, 'Ashenko' will do to you when she gets here." he continued.

The burly man leaned down closer to Eric, and whispered something into his ear.

"SHE," the burly man whispered into Eric's ear quietly. "Is far less merciful, than I." his voice trailed off in Eric's ear eerily.

"I say we just kill him now." the other man standing in the shadows spat angrily.

"No." the burly man responded sternly, righting himself up, now, so as to look directly at his partner. "Ashenko wants him alive when she gets here." he reminded his partner.

The other man seemed to swear in Russian at the burly man. "You think I am not upset by what happened to Dmitri?" the burly man sounded somewhat offended by his partner's remark.

"Dmitri died for the 'Motherland'." the burly man spat back at his partner. "As we all would." he added.

"His death saddens me greatly," the burly man admitted, with a sigh. "But, I carry on out of respect--in honor of him, and all of my fallen comrades." he added, puffing his chest out proudly. "It is our way after all."

The other man, still standing in the shadows, swore again in Russian; and before Eric knew what was happening the two men were arguing with each other, semi-intensely, in Russian. And since Eric did not speak a lick of Russian, he had absolutely no idea what they were saying--not that it really mattered...much.

Fortunately, his Russian captors had not bound his hands together all that tightly, so he was able to wiggle his cell phone free of his back-pocket. He flipped it open, as quietly as he could manage, and sat for a moment trying to visualize, in his mind, the layout of the cell phone's keyboard. After a brief moment he began slowly pressing keys on the cell phone's keyboard--though he could not actually see what he was doing--and gradually typed out the message that he hoped to send out.

"There." he thought to himself. "That's should do it." he whispered softly and quietly to himself.

He finally pressed the send key, and crossed his fingers, hoping that the message he had typed would send successfully and reach its final destination successfully.

Then, something he had not anticipated happened. The cell phone 'pinged' to let him know that his message had been sent successfully.

The room suddenly went eerily silent. Eric, nervously, swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat, as he closed his eyes and prayed that he was just dreaming, and that his captors had not heard the faint 'pinging' sound that his cell phone had made.

"What was that?" the second Russian man asked, his eyes darting around the room, somewhat nervously.

"I don't hear anything." the burly man replied, dismissively, waving his hand in the air.

Eric started to let out a sigh of relief, but then a horrible thought occurred to him. His cell phone usually pinged twice after a message had been sent with it. The first time to notify the user that the message has/had been sent successfully, and then the second 'ping' came as the phone reverted back to its 'Home Screen'.

"Oh no." Eric muttered, softly and quietly to himself, as he tensed up, waiting for the second 'ping' that would surely spell his demise.

'Ping'.

"There it is again." the second man said, stepping away from his partner.

"Yes. I hear it now too." the burly man replied. "Sounded like it came...from over..."

"There!" the second man exclaimed, pointing towards Eric.

Their eyes fell on Eric, together, and they quickly moved over to his side once again.

"What is this!?" the burly man demanded, his eyes landing on the cell phone in Eric's hands (which are tied behind his back). The burly man reached out and snatched the cell phone out of Eric's hand(s).

"Uh-A," Eric stammered, trying to sound stupid. "A C-Cellphone I guess." he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Do not play stupid with me!" the burly man spat angrily in Eric's face. "Who were contacting!?" he demanded.

"N-no one." Eric stammered, swallowing another lump in his throat.

"LIAR!" The burly man's fist connected hard with the side of Erics face. The shockwave from the blow rippled downwards through his entire body. "Who Were You Contacting!?" the burly man demanded, even more forcefully now.

The second man pressed a few buttons on the cell phone, and then finally looked up at his burly partner. "There's a name," he told his partner. "Nate Getz." he said pronouncing Nate's last name with a long e sound.

"It's Getz." Eric corrected showing the two men the short e pronunciation.

"Fine," the second man replied. "Then who is this Nate 'Getz'?" he asked, in a mocking-tone.

"None of your business." Eric snapped, trying to sound menacing and brave.









Elsewhere...

In a house just barely outside of Washington D.C. something dark was taking place. The house was located just off the beaten path, and was very friendly-looking. It had a nice stretch of land attached to it as well.

"Sister," a dark-haired woman said calmly, as she stepped in a circle around her sister. "Why do you resist?" the dark-haired woman asked, her accent definitely Russian.

The second woman was a fair skinned, blond-haired, brown-eyed young woman. But anyone could tell by looking at her that her hair was not naturally blond.

This second woman was tied to a dining room table (kind of like Eric), in the center of the living room of her home, and she had a busted lip.

"We came here to this country for a reason." her sister replied.

"To escape the madness, and find a better life--right?" the dark haired woman finished for her. "Ailene said the same thing." she pouted.

"You two are so much alike." the dark haired woman added. "Idealists."

"And you are too much like Father!" the other woman spat at the dark-haired woman.

"Yes." the dark-haired woman agreed. "And I intend to see our Father's dream, finally realized." she told the second woman.

"Nightmare you mean."

"Whatever." the dark-haired woman rolled her eyes. "The point is, Sister, that I had hoped you and Ailene would join me in my 'Grand Conquest'. Ailene refused, and..." she explained to the second woman.

"Please, Ariana, Sister," the dark-haired woman said, stooping down so that he face was next to the second woman's face. "Don't refuse my offer." she pleaded.

"How could you?" the second woman said, disgustedly. "She was our Sister--and you-you-"

"I had no choice." the dark-haired woman spat angrily. "She was weak."

The second woman shook her head at the dark-haired woman. "I-I will never help you!" she shouted. "NEVER!"

The dark-haired woman shook her own head, as she turned around and put her back to her sister. "I am truly sorry, Sister." she said, shaking her head miserably. "Know this, you will be seen as a martyr to our cause." she added.

The dark-haired woman snapped her fingers, without looking, and then said something in Russian. A man dressed like a thug (more-or-less) stepped out of the shadows, brandishing a shiny knife in his left hand. His right hand was covered in a big band bandage.

The second woman started to protest as the thuggish-looking man stepped closer and closer; but before she could get the words out the man had brought the knife down to her throat, and with one fluid motion he slit her throat. Blood flowed down from the wound and covered her body, the chair she sat in, and the floor around her. In only mere seconds, the choking sounds ceased, and she was dead.

"Such a waste." the dark-haired woman said, clicking her tongue. "Come." she said, motioning for her companion to follow her.









--Chapter Five--

"Are you sure THIS is the place!?" Tony asked, frustration in his voice, as they pulled up the driveway of a little house just outside of Washington D.C., and found just off of the beaten path.

"Yep. I'm sure." McGee replied, from the passenger's seat, as he checked the car's GPS navigation system.

"Great, cause that's what you said the LAST FIVE times I asked." Tony said, finally putting the car into park at the side of the house.

"Just, trust me, will ya." McGee said, as he unbuckled his seat belt and opened his car door up.

"Yeah, right after we find out that THIS is the wrong house too." Tony relied.

The two men made their way up to the back door (which is/was closer to where they were than the front door. Tony knocked on the back door. No answer. He tried again, but still no answer.

"Maybe she's not home." McGee suggested.

Tony rolled his eyes at his partner. "Well, her car's still here." Tony pointed out, motioning to the car sitting just behind them.

"Go around and check the front door." Tony told McGee. "Maybe she can't hear us back here."

McGee nodded, and took off in the direction of the front door. When he got there he knocked on the door, but still he got no answer. he looked inside through the door's single window piece, and what he saw in the living room just ahead horrified him.

"Tony!" he shouted. "Come here, Quick!"

Tony came bolting around the corner in just a matter of seconds. McGee had already drawn his Sig Sauer.

"What?" Tony asked.

"Look."

Tony looked inside, and saw what McGee was talking about.

"Stand back." Tony said, instantly.

McGee stepped back, as Tony drew his own side-arm from its holster. Tony reared back, and with a strong, hard lunge kicked the door inwards. The two NCIS agents rushed inside immediately.

McGee went right for the young woman tied to the dining room chair in the center of the living room.

Tony darted into the kitchen, and then into the adjacent dining room. "Clear!" he shouted back.

McGee swept the living room. "Clear!"

"Is she-" Tony started to ask, as he re-emerged into the living room.

"Its her," McGee said. "She's dead Tony." he added, pulling away from his search for a pulse. "Her throat's been slit." he added.

"Great," Tony said, as he used his free hand to pull out his cell phone. "Can't believe I thought that this was going to be easy." he remarked, as he headed back to clear the bedrooms.

He waited until a voice answered on the other end of the phone line.

"Yeah, this is NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo," he said into his cell phone. Tony spent the next few minutes explaining to the person on the other end of the line how to tell Dr. Mason (the new NCIS Medical Examiner) how to get to where they were/are to pick up the young woman's body.

"Doc Mason's on his way." Tony said, hanging up his cell phone, as he, once again, re-emerged into the living room.

"Guess we should start processing hunh?" McGee said, pulling a pair of white latex gloves out of his pocket.

"I'll go get our bags." Tony said, heading back for the front door.

"Alright." McGee replied.









Back In Los Angeles...

Morning dawned in Los Angeles and the team had not yet left HQ. Even Abby and little D.J. had stayed over night.

Abby was fast asleep, still, curled up on the sofa in the lobby area, with little D.J. laying flat on the rest of the couch. Hetty had draped a small blanket over the young lad in the middle of the night, as well as draping a bigger blanket over Abby.

She had no idea what was coming towards her in that moment.

An unshaven man knelt beside her side/end of the sofa, quietly, and gently ran a hand through her hair.

"Abs," he said softly.

The Goth Forensic Specialist stirred slightly, but did not wake up.

Gibbs grinned, and leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss against her temple. "Abs." he said, again, very softly.

Abby's eyes fluttered open.

"Gibbs." she said, through a yawn, as she sat up to stretch.

She blinked several times before really realizing what was happening.

"Gibbs." she said again, this time a little louder.

"Shhh." he whispered, placing a finger to his lips, and then motioning with his head towards the still slumbering little D.J.

"Come with me." he said quietly, helping the young, dark-haired woman to her feet.

He led her away from the sofa, and down a hallway not too far away and to a bathroom.

"Where are we going?" she asked, still a bit groggy.

"To get you cleaned up." he whispered.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Just follow me." he said.

Abby just now realized that Gibbs' was holding what appeared to be a gym bag in his free hand/arm.

Soon Gibbs pushed open the door to the one restroom that the HQ had in it. Once inside, he closed and locked the door. He let go of Abby's arm, and pointed towards a mirror hanging over the single sink.

She stepped forward and looked into the mirror. Yikes, Gibbs WAS right, she thought to herself.

She turned on the sink, and began splashing water up into her face. "What's in the bag?" she asked. "Your clothes."

"Nope," he said. "Not mine, yours." he added, passing the bag to Abby.

She cocked her head to one side, as she stared at Gibbs. "You broke into my house-" she started to say.

"If you recall," Gibbs said. "I bought you (and Eric) that house." he reminded her. "I still have my own key to that house. And Hetty said that you could probably use some things from your house."

"Hetty?"

"Yeah, Hetty picked me up from the airport two hours ago." he told her.

Suddenly Abby went silent standing there in front of Gibbs, holding onto the bag that he had handed to her.

"Gibbs," she said suddenly, her voice cracking and tears forming up in her eyes. She dropped her bag onto the floor, and threw herself into Gibbs' arms. "I'm so scared." she sobbed.

Gibbs wrapped his arms around Abby, and patted her on the back. "I know." he said quietly. He figured that he knew Abby well enough to be able to assume that she had been trying to put on a brave face for her son, and so right now she just needed to let all of that pent-up emotion flow out.

She sobbed.

"We're gonna find him," he reassured her, quietly. He kissed her temple, gently, and then whispered something into her ear. "Or I'll die trying." he whispered into her ear.







When the two of them finally re-emerged from the bathroom, Abby was all nice and cleaned up. She had on fresh clothes and fresh make-up; and she had even re-done her pigtails.

She had also handed the razor that Gibbs' had packed for her back to him, and told him to shave his face while they were in there. He had done exactly as she had asked.

They re-entered the lobby area, and found that little D.J. was already wide-awake, and engaged in a full-on conversation with Sam.

"Hey Sam," Abby greeted the muscular ex-Navy Seal member of the NCIS: L.A. team.

"Abs," Sam said standing up. "Good morning." he said, as he wrapped his big arms around her and pulled her into a massive bear hug.

"What are you two talking about?" Abby asked, after Sam finally put her down.

"Breakfast." Sam said, winking at little D.J.

"Hmm, sounds good." Abby said, with a smile. "What are we having?" she asked.

"Whatever you guys want." Sam replied, with a grin.

"Oh, Gibbs." he said, noticing Gibbs.

He and Gibbs shook hands. "Sam." Gibbs said, with a warm smile.

"You want anything?" Sam asked.

"Coffee's fine." Gibbs replied.

Sam chuckled. "I'm guess--Black, right?"

Gibbs nodded. "That'd be great." he told Sam.

Abby told Sam what she and D.J. would like, and then Sam nodded, patted the little boy on the head; and then he was on his way out the door.

D.J. was currently engaged in watching the lobby-television which Sam had flipped onto the cartoon channel when he came in--you know for D.J. to watch. The cartoon that the little boy was currently watching jumped to a commercial.

"D.J.," Abby called her son's name. "Look who's here." she said, pointing to Gibbs who stood at the foot of the sofa.

The little boy's eyes lit up at the sight of Gibbs.

"Granpy!" the little boy hopped up on the sofa, and then from there bounced up into his 'adopted' grandfather's arms.

"Hiya Sport." Gibbs smiled, giving the little boy a quick peck on the forehead.

"Daddy's not home right now." the little boy told Gibbs.

"I know." Gibbs replied. "But I'm sure he'll be back soon. What do you think?"

The little boy nodded excitedly at his 'adopted' grandfather.

"Me too." Gibbs said, with a grin.

Abby chuckled at the two guys.

Sam and Nate walked through the door together just at that moment.

"Where'd you guys go?" Abby asked, when she saw Callen and Nate.

"Home." Callen replied.

"Yeah," Nate agreed. "Had to, ya know, get cleaned up for the day." he added.

"Gibbs." Callen said, shaking Gibbs' free hand.

Then Nate did the same thing.

Nate started to open his mouth to speak, but then suddenly his cell phone went 'ping'. He pulled out his cell phone, and read the caller ID.

"I just turned this thing back on." he said aloud. "Bound to be several unanswered messages on-" He stopped short.

"What is Nate?" Callen asked.

"Guys," Nate said. "I just got a text message--from Eric." he told them.

"What!?" Callen said, shocked.

"How's that possible?" Abby asked, now really alert.

"What does it say?" Kensi asked, walking up from behind everyone else.

"Oh hi Kensi." Callen greeted Kensi Blye.

"It says, 'im kay. trac cell. water.'" Nate relayed the message to the others.

"What does that even mean?" Callen asked.

"I think," Nate replied. "That he's telling us he's okay, and that we need to trace his cell phone." Nate told them.

"Abby," Callen asked. "Can you do that--trace his cell phone I mean?"

"Sure she can." Gibbs answered for her.

"Alright. Let's get to it." Callen said, seriously.








Back In Washington, D.C. ...

Tony and McGee stepped off of the elevator at NCIS HQ, and rounded the corner into the bullpen.

Already waiting in the bullpen were Ziva (Talia and Gena), and Alicia and Maxie. McGee had suggested that it might be safer, at least for now, if Alicia take a sick day from work and came and stayed with Maxie at NCIS with him--just in case you know. Alicia had agreed, a little reluctantly though.

"Doc Mason back yet?" Tony asked, as he dropped his backpack off in front of his desk.

McGee dropped his bag off at his desk as well.

"Yes," Ziva replied, rocking Gena in her arms. "Been back for at least an hour." she added, looking down at her watch.

"Good." Tony said.

"Is that-" Alicia started to ask, noticing darkened blotches on the two guys' clothing.

"Blood?" McGee finished for her.

"Yeah." Tony confirmed the suspicion for them. "Which is why Timmy and I are gonna hit the showers, and then go see Doc Mason--maybe he's found something useful on our dead body."

"Okay." Ziva replied. "And please...take your time." she added.

"Gotcha." Tony replied, as he and McGee headed off in the direction of the office showers.








The water broke over Tony's face as he now stood, in the nude, in one of the NCIS shower stalls. McGee was just one stall over from him. There was a silence that was eerie, to say the least, for anyone else who might have stumbled into the room (luckily no one else did).

Finally McGee spoke up, and broke the silence after a few minutes or so had passed.

"So, how're you holdin' up?" McGee asked, over the noise of the showers.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tony countered, somewhat defensively.

"Nothing," McGee replied, honestly. "Just--I know it must be hard...ya know knowing that your kids were-" he was cut short by a sudden out burst from Tony.

"-Were what McGee!?" Tony blurted out. "Mere inches from death!?"

"Well-" McGee started to say.

"Yeah McGee, it bothers me." Tony told him, fuming.

Tony had been holding everything back for the last few hours or so, and now it seemed like all of that pent up frustration was flowing out somewhat freely at this point.

Tony scrubbed his entire upper body furiously with the bar of soap that he now held in his hands. Anger burned, like fire, in his eyes standing under the flowing water coming from the shower tap.

"It bothers me." he repeated.

Tony just could not seem to get the image of the look on his daughter's face when they found her hiding in the clothes hamper in the bathroom at the babysitter's house. Nor the way she had reacted when he'd picked them up at the hospital later on.

"Tony," McGee said, a little more gently/quietly this time. "I didn't mean to upset you." he told his 'boss'.

"I know." Tony said, finally. "I just--these are my kids," he pointed out, as he set the bar of soap back on its stand in the shower rack. "I'm supposed to protect them, you know, bad things are supposed to happen to your kids." Tony continued.

"If it were my kids," McGee pointed out. "I-I don't know what I would do." he told Tony.

Tony let the water flow over his head, and rinse all of the soap off of his upper body and then his lower body.

"I know exactly what I'm gonna do," Tony said, looking straight ahead, the fire still burning brightly in his eyes. "Mark my words McGee," Tony said, seriously. "If we do find these bastards--I'll-"

"You don't have to tell me Tony," McGee said, knowingly. "I know."

McGee understood perfectly what Tony was saying, and he understood completely where his 'boss' was coming from.

Tony pounded his fists against the wall of the shower stall as the image of how he and Ziva had discovered Gena, on the floor buried beneath the broken pieces of the crib she had been sleeping in at the babysitter's house, flowed into his mind.

McGee reached up and shut his shower tap off, and then Tony turned his off a few beats later. The two men stood, dripping wet, in their shower stalls for just a few minutes more before they each grabbed a towel and began drying themselves off.








A Few Minutes Later...

Tony and McGee strolled through the doors of Autopsy a few minutes later, both dressed in the same dull blue NCIS jumpsuit (it was all that they had, because neither of the guys had brought spare clothes to work with them), and found Doc Mason working on the most recent body that they had brought in.

Doc Mason was an older man, with dark, thin hair. He often wore a pair of glasses when he needed help seeing something very small--such as when he was trying to read small print. Tony often joked about how Doc Mason sort of resembled Jack Klugman in that old TV show 'Quincy M.E.'--you know when he wasn't wearing his glasses.

"Found anything Doc?" McGee asked, as they approached the slab he was currently hovering over.

"Agents DiNozzo and McGee." the M.E. said, glancing up at the two guys, but then returning his attention to the autopsy he was currently performing.

"Wardrobe malfunction?" the M.E. asked, trying to hide a smile.

"Yeah, you could say that." Tony replied. "Whatcha got?"

"Well," the M.E. said, laying down the instrument that he currently was holding his hand(s). "I don't know if it means anything, but if you look closely, here, where her throat was slit open--you'll see that the patterns indicate a 'Left-To-Right' motion." he pointed out, picking up a magnifying glass of his tool tray.

Tony and McGee looked at the place(s) where Doc Mason pointed to. "Yep, you're right." Tony agreed.

"Whoever was holding the knife was probably 'Right-Handed'." McGee pointed out.

Doc Mason looked up at the two guys, with a small grin. "That's exactly what I thought--at first." he told them. "But look here," he said, running the magnifying glass over two or three tiny spots of the wound. "When I looked at it closer, I found these-" he said pointing out two or three places where it looked as though the knife had 'snagged and pulled' a little bit.

"Okay." Tony said.

"Either our killer was very sloppy, or-" Doc Mason said, lifting a finger up in front of his face. "He wasn't 'Right-Handed' at all."

"I'm confused," McGee said. "If he wasn't really 'Right-Handed', then why did he use his 'Right-Hand'?" McGee pondered aloud. "Using his dominant hand would have made for a cleaner, smoother cut." McGee pointed out.

"Exactly what I was wondering." Doc Mason agreed. "Perhaps," Doc Mason said thoughtfully. "He's missing his other hand." he theorized aloud.

"Or, or," McGee suggested. "Maybe he injured it, and is unable to use it for awhile." he said aloud, looking at Tony for approval.

Tony stood silent for a moment or two--thoughts buzzing through his mind-- as he took in this new information.

"What about the other body?" Tony asked, finally speaking up. "Ailene Kravinsky." he said the name, reminding Doc Mason.

Doc Mason looked up, a thoughtful expression on his face, and thought for a moment in silence.

"Ah yes, the Kravinsky woman," he recalled, looking back at Tony and McGee. "As I recall she had multiple stab wounds to her abdomen and chest." he told them. "From their angle and trajectory, I was able to determine that whoever was holding the knife was probably fairly strong, and 'Left-Handed'."

Tony thought for a moment, silently, and then suddenly some of the pieces to their puzzle began to come together all at once. Images flashed wildly through his mind as he stood there.

"What if our killer was, as you said, 'Left-Handed," Tony pointed out calmly. "But lets say he hurt his hand real bad--maybe cut it up pretty good punching through the glass on a 'Grandfather Clock'."

Tony recalled the broken-in Grandfather Clock that he'd seen sitting at the top of the stairs in Ailene Kravinsky's house.

"A serious cut like the one you're describing would certainly require medical attention--and not long afterward at that." Doc Mason informed them.

"Hospital..." Tony said quietly, his voice trailing off as more thoughts quickly ran through his mind. Suddenly, a few moments later, his eyes popped open real big. "Damn!" he swore.

"What?" McGee asked. "What is it?"

"Yes, please tell us." Doc Mason chimed in.

"Damn, I think I've seen him." Tony said.

"What. What do you mean?" McGee asked again.

"No, I'm positive I've seen him." Tony corrected his previous statement. "The 'Bastard' walked right by me at the hospital." Tony said, spinning around on his heel, and beginning to pace back and forth.

"Wait, how can you possibly know that?" McGee asked.

"Talia had a bad dream after the attack." Tony said, still pacing the floor. Tony told McGee and Doc Mason about his daughter's nightmare. "It didn't click until now," he said finally. "The guy that was getting off of the elevator when I was getting on--his tattoo." Tony continued. "It was a skull, painted to look like an evil clown, with a snake coming out of its mouth."

McGee shook his head, rubbing his forehead as he did so.

"Talia must have seen the guys' tattoo when he grabbed her," McGee reasoned. "That's why she dreamed about evil clowns and snakes." he added.

"I know McGee." Tony fumed. "And he was right there," Tony repeated. "Right there. I could have had him if only I'd known." he said angrily, approaching Doc Mason's desk which sat over in a corner up against the wall near the sink.

"Tony," McGee started to say.

"He was right THERE," Tony fumed angrily. "Right there, and I let the bastard walk right by me!" Tony said angrily, as he slammed his fists down, hard, atop Doc Mason's desk.

"Tony," McGee tried again, trying to calm his partner down a little bit. "You didn't know. There was nothing you could have done."

Tony stepped towards McGee, anger still burning in his eyes. "The 'Bastard' was only feet away from my family, McGee!" Tony nearly shouted.

McGee placed his hand on Tonys shoulder as the older man hung his head. "Tony, we're gonna get'em." McGee told his 'boss'. "We will." he repeated, reassuringly.

"Yeah. You're right." Tony replied. "Thanks Doc."

"You're welcome. Anytime I can help." Doc Mason assured them.

"Let's go see what Gwen's cooked up in the lab. Shall we?" McGee suggested.

"Yeah." Tony replied.

The two men headed out of Autopsy together.

"If you find anything else, Doc-" Tony started to say, over his shoulder.

"I shall keep you apprised." Doc Mason finished for him.

"Thanks."










--Chapter Six--

Tony and McGee strolled into the lab a few minutes later to find Ruby Rae, the Forensic Specialist who had been hired/assigned to take Abby's place here in the NCIS Washington, D.C. office, standing over her workstation staring into the computer screen.

Ruby was by no means Abby, but she was still super-smart and she had her own little set of peculiar quirks that the gang had had to get used to when she first started working there at NCIS.

She had gotten the job, primarily, because McGee had recommended her for the position. He'd remembered working with her during a case that the team had worked a few years back, and he had told Director Vance that she might be just who they were looking for to take Abby's place.

One of Ruby's little 'quirks' as the team had learned, not long after she'd started working at NCIS, was that she was very, very organized--and somewhat anal about it too.

McGee had not remembered that particular trait about her when he'd suggested her for the job.

She did not play loud music in the lab like Abby used to do, but whenever she finished a large project she did like to turn on some soft, country music to listen to while she waited for the guys to check in.

As of right now there was no music of any kind playing in the lab.

"No music." McGee said, as they stopped just inside the doorway of the lab. "Means no results." he added.

"Also means I can hear you, Tim." Ruby spoke up, not looking away from her computer screen.

"Yeah McGee." Tony chimed in. "She can HEAR you." he said.

Tony stepped over to the workstation, and stood next to Ruby.

"So, nothing yet?" Tony asked.

Ruby let out a sigh.

"I finished running the finger prints you guys lifted," she told Tony. "But the DNA results haven't come back yet, and-"

Suddenly a loud beep sounded throughout the lab, and it made Tony and McGee cover their ears as it echoed through the room.

"Oh, never mind." Ruby corrected herself. "That would be the DNA samples." she added.

"Geez," McGee said, rubbing his ears. "Abby just had it 'ping'." he commented.

"Oh I know." Ruby said. "I've been steadily making adjustments to the system--updating it, if you will."

"I see--er--I hear." Tony replied.

"I made it louder so that I won't miss it, if I'm in the other room running ballistics tests and such." Ruby explained.

"Right." Tony replied. "So-"

"Oh, right." Ruby said. "DNA."

She punched a few keys on the computer's console, and a new screen appeared across the monitor.

"The two DNA samples that you brought me, both from the first crime scene, I ran them through the database, and only one came back as a match." Ruby informed them. "The first sample matched Ailene Kravinsky." Ruby pointed out. "The second sample--swabbed from the upstairs clock--nothing."

"Well, you tried." Tony said, shaking his head.

"Now, the fingerprint analysis." she said, pulling up the specs on her computer screen.

McGee stepped over closer to Ruby and Tony.

"I ran all of the prints through AFIS," Ruby told them. "I got hits on Ailene Kravinsky, You, Ziva, and Talia--but only because you guys gave me samples for excluding you guys--and I also got a hit one a print left by this guy-" she said, as she pressed a few keys, after a beat or two a picture and a rap-sheet popped up onto the computer screen.

"Dominic Ivanov." McGee read the name aloud from the info on the computer screen.

Tony looked closely at the computer screen. "That's him." Tony said. "That's the guy from the hospital." he continued.

"Says here he's only been in the country for a few weeks now," McGee said aloud. "Got picked up for a speeding ticket his second day here." McGee continued.

"I want that information printed out ASAP." Tony told Ruby.

"Got it." she said. "Now, I also got an 83% match possibility on one other print." she told them. Within seconds she had the second photo and info screen displayed across the computer's monitor.

The photo displayed on the computer screen was of a dark-haired, green-eyed woman named Alexi Alexandrov.

"If I had a comparison hair sample," Ruby told them, as they stood there staring at the computer screen. "I could probably match it to the hair samples collected from both crime scenes." she explained.

"Too bad we don't have a comparison sample." McGee said.

"We may not need it." Tony said. "Good work Ruby. I'll need her information printed out as well, if you please."

"Sure thing," Ruby said. "I'll bring them up as soon as I can."

"Good." Tony replied. "Come on McGee."

"Where are we going?"

"I think we need to have another chat with Agent Callen." Tony said.








Later In MTAC...

"What did you find?" Callen asked.

"Ailene and Ariana are dead." Tony said. "But we were able to identify a man that we believe to be working with/for our killer." he added. "Dominic Ivanov." he told them.

Tony pointed to one of the techies, and the techie began pressing buttons on his console.

"His information is on its way to you." Tony said.

"What about you guys?" Ziva asked.

"We received a text message from Eric," Nate spoke up, stepping into view. "He told us to track his cell phone, when he tried though--nothing."

"We think it must have been destroyed before we got the message." Callen added.

"We also tried to track down Alexi Alexandrov," Sam put in. "Her home was empty."

Just then McGee came running into MTAC, carrying a sheet of paper that he had just pulled off of the printer downstairs.

"I found her." he said, handing the sheet of paper to Tony.

"Looks like I've got some good news for you guys," Tony said. "She's here." he added. "But it appears that she's bought a plane ticket back to L.A.--leaves in 1 hour."

"Alright, maybe we can catch getting off of the plane." Kensi said.

"Maybe," said a very familiar voice from off screen.

"Is that?" McGee asked.

Gibbs stepped into view at that moment.

"We still won't get Eric back." Gibbs said. "I can promise you she won't give him up that easily."

Callen looked at Gibbs. "Alright." he said, nodding. "What do you need?" he asked.

Everyone looked at Gibbs expectantly. Gibbs folded his arms across his chest.

"My team." he said.

"Done." Callen said instantly.

"It's settled then." Director Vance said, from where he was sitting, off to the side, in MTAC. "Pack your bags--you three are going to L.A." he added.

"What about the kids?" Ziva asked Tony.

"The girls will be fine," Vance told her. "They are welcome to stay with Jackie and Myself." he told them.

"Thanks." Tony and Ziva said together.

"What're you standing around for, DiNozzo, get movin'!" Gibbs said, forcefully.

Tony, Ziva, and McGee nodded, and then the three of them turned and headed out of MTAC.

"We'll meet you at the airport, when you get here." Callen told them as they walked away.

Tony looked at his two team mates, as he reached for the door. There was an edge of excitement in his eyes. "We're Back Baby." he whispered, a small grin playing across his lips.








In Los Angeles...

Gibbs turned away from the plasma viewing screen, and headed for the stairs. The rest of the L.A. team had gone into discussions about how they would proceed next.

As Gibbs walked past Kensi his arm brushed past hers--slightly. Kensi sucked in a deep breath at the feel of his arm touching hers. She held her breath, not wanting to let go of all the different parts that made up its intoxicating aroma. A million thoughts rushed through her mind, and made her shudder--audibly.

"Something wrong, Ms. Blye?" Hetty asked, as the room suddenly went quiet.

Kensi didn't hear Hetty at first, because at that moment she was busy daydreaming.

"Kensi!" Callen said her name loudly.

"Earth to Kensi." Sam added, cupping his hands around his mouth.

"Hunh?" Kensi mumbled, suddenly snapping out of her dream world. "What?"

"Did you leave the planet or something?" Callen asked her.

"What, no, no." She replied, straightening up. "I just--" she searched desperately for the right words for the situation. "I--felt dizzy--but just for a second though," she said the words without thinking as they came to her. "I'm okay now, really."

"Alright," Callen said, looking her up and down suspiciously. "Still--why don't you go down stairs, throw some water on your face--sit down a bit. Okay?"

Kensi acted like she did not want to, but then finally agreed to Callen's request. She sluggishly made her way out of the 'Tactical Room' and towards the stairs.

"Is it just me," Callen said, watching Kensi leave the room. "Or has she been acting weird lately?"

"No," Sam said. "Its not just you. She's been acting that way ever since Gibbs arrived." Sam pointed out.

"You guys don't think-" Deeks started to say, kind of reading everyone elses mind.

"Nah." They all said in unison.








Kensi marched down the last of the stairs her body language suggesting that she was utterly frustrated with/by something.

It had been nearly a year since the last time she had physically seen Gibbs, much less spoken to him. She'd always that the next time she saw the former NCIS Special Agent she would feel happy, but for some reason, right now, she only felt frustration.

She reached the bottom of the stairs, and immediately saw Gibbs talking to Abby over by the 'lounge' area of the lobby. Little D.J was sitting, comfortably on the small sofa, watching cartoons on the wall-mounted television nearby.

A sudden wave of emotion swept over her in that instant, and she suddenly felt like she might cry. She quickly turned away, and headed for the HQ's single bathroom.

Inside the bathroom, she walked over to the sink, turned on the water, and started splashing water into her face. When she finally looked up into the mirror that hung just above the mirror she saw that her eyes were red and moist.

She stood there, hovering over the sink, reflecting over the last few minutes that had just taken place.

Then suddenly she kicked the underside of the sink. She felt so dirty--so selfish right then.

"Stupid." she muttered to herself, angrily. "What am I doing?" she asked herself. "This is about finding Eric-" she reminded herself. "Not about me and Gibbs."

She turned on the sink again, and splashed more water into her face before turning the sink back off again.

She tried for several minutes to regain her former composure, but without success. Her mind just kept wandering back to--about a year ago--at Eric and Abby's wedding. Everyone else was packing up to leave, but not her. She had recently decided to stay there a little bit longer.

She had told Hetty that she just needed a little time off, just a couple of days more. When Hetty had asked her why, she had only responded with 'It's Personal', and nothing more. Hetty had reluctantly agreed, but had given Kensi a very strict deadline.

That 'Personal' reason, which she had never revealed to anyone, was that she had met someone--there. Someone that she wanted to spend a little more time with--Jethro Gibbs. It sounded 'Uber-Crazy' she knew, but she just couldn't help herself. It just had happened--and so quickly at that.

From the moment she and Gibbs had locked eyes for that very first time--she'd felt this...this spark, and she'd sensed that he'd felt it too. And after everyone else had left, they had acted on that feeling.

"Kensi!?" the sound of someone calling her name snapped her out of her 'dream-land' again.

"Coming!" she called back, standing up. She had slid down against the wall near the sink, and had sitting on the floor for the last several minutes.

She jumped up, and grabbed a tissue off of the roll, wiped her eyes real good, and then straightened herself up--made herself look presentable once more.

Kensi walked out of the bathroom, and found everyone standing there in the lobby now.

"What?" she asked. "Its getting late," Callen said pointing out a window.

Outside the sun was beginning to set already.

"Oh." she replied.

"We're all gonna call it a day." Callen explained. "Get a fresh start when the others get here tomorrow morning." he added.

"Okay." she said, looking back towards Callen.

"Is something bothering you?" he asked, out of nowhere.

"No, no." she said quickly, shaking her head. "Nothing's...wrong." she said.

"Sure?"

"Yeah. Totally. I'm sure." she reassured him.

"Okay. Good." he said, finally.

"Abby's staying with you tonight, right?" He asked. "That was the plan that you guys discussed."

"Hmm, oh yeah." Kensi replied, suddenly remembering the plan that she and Abby had talked about. "Right." she said.

"Okay, well, see you in the morning then." Callen said, patting her arm/shoulder before he turned and walked away.









--Chapter Seven--

Later that night at Kensi's place Abby finished tucking her son into bed for the night. She returned, waddling, to the living room a few minutes later where she found Kensi curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a small blanket.

"You've been unusually quiet tonight, you know that." Abby said, sitting down in the recliner across from the sofa. She propped the footrest up, and finally was able to relax her aching feet.

"Hmm?" Kensi mumbled, looking up at Abby.

"Is something wrong?" Abby asked.

"No." Kensi replied, quietly.

"Okay," Abby said, changing tactics. "So, what are you thinking about?"

"Him." Kensi replied, without thinking, and then suddenly wishing that she had just kept her mouth shut.

Abby gasped. "Him? Him Who?" she asked, eagerly.

"U-Uh, Eric." Kensi stammered, but managed to get the words out.

"Really." Abby replied, not sure, for the moment, if she really, entirely believed Kensi.

"Yeah." Kensi said, straightening up, and turning her body so that she would be facing Abby. "I mean, he's out there somewhere--being held by crazy Russian terrorists," she explained, not really sure what she was saying, but it sounded good--so she just went with it. "And there's absolutely no way of knowing what those guys might be doing to him at this very moment." she added, brushing her back with one hand.

Abby seemed to finally relax once again, after a beat or two, as if she had finally made up her mind to believe Kensi.

"I know," Abby said finally, her voice dropping a little lower as she spoke now. "I've been thinking about that too. Eric doesn't do torture very well, ya know."

Kensi nodded.

"But you know what? Eric can't die." Abby said. "He just--can't. I mean, every girl needs a father in their life," Abby began to ramble uncontrollably. "A mother can only do so much for her daughter, but there's like this whole other side of the equation, ya know. So many things that a father is 'Supposed' to do."

Kensi finally was able to piece together enough of what Abby was rambling on about to completely snap out of the haze that she had fallen into earlier.

"Wait," Kensi said, interrupting Abby's train-of-thought. "You said--are you telling me--are you having a--a girl." Kensi finally managed to get the words out of her mouth.

Abby looked confused for a moment, but then a look of realization passed across her face.

"I thought I told everyone," Abby said finally.

"Obviously not." Kensi pointed out.

"Oh, sorry." Abby apologized, sincerely.

"Yeah, I should hope so." Kensi retorted, rolling her eyes.

"When Eric and I went to the doctor--before Eric disappeared of course--we were going to find out whether this one's a boy or a girl--Its a Girl." Abby explained.

Kensi smiled, and stood up from the couch. She walked and threw her arms around Abby's neck and hugged her friend.

"Congratulations!" Kensi said, happily. "Oh my gosh," Kensi said, putting her hands over her mouth for a moment. "You must be so excited."

"Yeah," Abby replied, looking away. "I will be...once I know that Eric is safe." she added.

The two women stayed up until mid-night, and that's when Kensi finally suggested that they get some sleep. Neither of them knew what the morning would bring, and there was no way that either woman could possibly know the danger that awaited them.

"Good night." Kensi said quietly, as she quietly crossed the hall from the 'Guest Room' into her bedroom.

"Sweet Dreams." Abby whispered back, softly.








Kensi was the first one to arrive at the NCIS: L.A. office early the next morning. She sat at her desk space with two very hot styro-foam cups of coffee setting right in front of her.

She took a sip of coffee from her cup, and then set the cup back down. She could not help but stare at the other cup while drumming her fingers against the side of her cup--a nervous habit of hers.

If any one of her co-workers/teammates could see her sitting there in that moment, they would most assuredly all come to the same conclusion--she was deliberately waiting for someone.

It was only 6:30 in the morning, and usually no one came into the office until between 7:00 am and 7:15 am. But she knew someone who would come in as early as she had--maybe earlier--but she did not think so.

The reason that she had decided to come in to work so early was simple. She planned to make Gibbs talk to her one way or another.

A sound coming from outside made Kensi jump in her seat--something she never, ever did. Next came the sound of footsteps approaching the front door, and then the sound of the front door opening.

Kensi tried to quickly re-compose herself, so that she wouldn't look so nervous. She wanted to appear as calm and casual as she always was.

"Why thank you Mr. Gibbs." Kensi heard a female voice say.

"My pleasure." a gruff, familiar voice replied.

The two voices that she could hear were steadily getting closer and closer.

A second door opened up--the inner door--and then closed. A few steps more and they would be inside. Mere seconds from passing right by where she was sitting. She swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat, her nerves now more shaky than ever.

Gibbs and Hetty entered the lobby area walking side-by-side.

"The rest of my people should be arriving fairly soon." Hetty said, very close now.

"Good." Gibbs replied.

"Ms. Blye," Hetty remarked, seeing Kensi sitting alone at her desk area/space. "You're hear awfully early, aren't you?"

"Well, its a--big day." Kensi said, nervously. "Wanted to get a head-start on things...ya know." she added, hoping that she sounded more relaxed than she felt.

Hetty eyed Kensi suspiciously for a moment, but then shook her head, dismissively and turned back to face Gibbs. She and Gibbs had a few words between themselves, standing there in the doorway.

Then Hetty bowed her head slightly to Gibbs, and then turned and headed off down the way towards her office space--leaving Gibbs alone there standing in the doorway.

"Where's Abby?" Gibbs asked, looking at Kensi.

"At my place," Kensi replied. "She wanted to stay in with D.J.--so she wouldn't be in the way." Kensi explained. The whole time she tried to steady her nerves and work up the courage to make her next move.

"Oh." Was all that Gibbs said.

Kensi stood up, now holding both coffee cups in her hand(s).

"Coffee," she said holding one of the styro-foam cups out to Gibbs; but as she did so she noticed that he was already holding a styro-foam cup in his right hand. "Oh--I didn't realize you already had one." she said, her voice dropping, as she averted her eyes.

Gibbs searched his mind for something, anything, to say at this moment; but nothing came to him.

"Yeah." Was all he could managed in a low voice.

"I guess I'll just leave this here," she said, setting the coffee cup down on Sam's work space.

Gibbs started to walk away towards the bathroom. Kensi followed after him.

"So," she said. "Did you sleep good?" she asked.

"You could say that." Gibbs replied, between sips of coffee.

"Oh, okay." she said.

Gibbs was starting to get a little edgy himself. Everything within him was screaming 'say something'; but another, more rational part of him(self) was saying stay in control.

They finally reached the bathroom.

"So I was thinking," Kensi started to say.

"Um, Kens-" Gibbs said, as they came to a stop just outside the bathroom door.

"What?" she asked, stopping mid-sentence.

Gibbs pointed towards the bathroom door. "You're not gonna follow me inside, are you?"

Kensi blushed, and turned away--hoping that he had not seen the redness in her cheeks.

"No, no. Of course not." she replied.

Gibbs nodded, and then turned and entered the bathroom.

Kensi slumped backwards against the wall outside the bathroom door, and waited.

"Stupid," she mumbled to herself. Why was it so hard for her to talk to this one guy--he's just a guy, after all...right?

A few minutes passed, and then the bathroom door finally opened and Gibbs stepped out. Kensi jumped up to her feet and followed Gibbs as he made his way back out towards the lobby area.

She sucked in a deep breath, steadied her nerves, and then let it back out. "Gibbs," she said at once. "We need to talk."

By now they had reached the stairs that led up to the 'Tactical Room'.

"About us." she added, as they started up the stairs.

Gibbs took another sip of his coffee.

"Why?" Gibbs asked, plainly. "There's nothing to say." he added.

"What--what's that supposed to mean?" she asked, taking on a slightly more defensive tone than before.

"What it sounds like," Gibbs replied, stopping and looking back at her. There was a long pause between the two of them, before Gibbs finally spoke up again. "I'm...sorry." he added, slowly and quietly.

Kensi stopped walking, and watched as Gibbs took the last few steps, and then disappeared into the 'Tactical Room'. A single tear formed in the corner of her eye, and then rolled down her cheek.

She could feel her heart breaking from the inside-out.

She spun around on her heel(s) and bounded back down the stairs. At that moment Callen came in, set his things down at his desk space, and then headed for the stairs.

Sam was also coming in through the front door as well.

"Hi Kens," Callen said, as he neared her. "Are you wearing-" he started to ask, noticing that she was actually wearing some make-up today. Which was really, really weird, because everyone knew that Kensi had always been, more-or-less, a tomboy and did not particularly like to wear make-up.

Kensi stopped, stared at Callen for a moment, and then pushed passed him hurriedly as tears threatened to burst free from inside her like Niagara Falls.

"Hmm," Sam said, setting his bag down on top of his desk space/area. "What's with her?" he asked.

"Dunno." Callen replied, watching her until she disappeared around a corner and down the hall. "But she's wearing make-up." he pointed out.

"Make-up?" Sam repeated, a little surprised.

"Yeah. Sam, have you ever actually seen Kensi wear make-up before?" Callen asked, standing still on the stairs.

"Nope." Sam replied, walking towards Callen. "Can't say that I have."

"And what's that smell?" Sam asked, noticing a light, yet fragrant, smell that seemed to linger on the stairs.

Callen sniffed the air, because he had not noticed the smell yet. "Smells like," he said, sniffing the air again. "Perfume?"

"Wait, you're telling me she's wearing 'Perfume' today too." Sam remarked, even more surprised.

"Something is definitely going on with her." Callen said.

"Definitely." Sam agreed.








Gibbs stood in the 'Tactical Room' alone now. He set his coffee cup down on the tabletop that set in the center of the room. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath--letting it back out a few seconds later.

The scent of the perfume that Kensi had been wearing still lingered around his nostrils, and threatened to bring him to his knees. It was the very same perfume that he had gotten her in that shop in that little Mexican town that he had taken her too after Eric and Abby's wedding--and after everybody else had left and gone back home. It was also the only perfume that she had ever "'wanted' to wear"--were her exact words.

He wasn't exactly sure just how much longer he could keep this up.

He hated acting the way that he was, but he figured that in Kensi's current emotional state distancing himself from her would be for the best. Though he longed to touch her, to take her in his arms--and hold her close--to kiss her like no one else had ever been kissed before; but he couldn't--he just could not bring himself to do it.

She would more than likely hate him for the rest of their existence for what he was doing, but he knew that if he gave into her--now--not only might it interfere with their case/investigation, but it might also distract her and get her hurt..or worse--killed.

A single tear rolled down his rough cheek as he stood there, eyes still closed, trying to steady his nerves once again. "Forgive me." he whispered softly, to no one in particular.

"Gibbs," Callen said, entering the room. He stopped, seeing Gibbs standing there with his eyes closed. "Are...you okay?" he asked, slowly.

Gibbs' eyes snapped open, and it did not take but a fraction of a second to regain his former composure.

"Yeah," he replied, shaking his head. "Just thinking." he added.

"Okay." Callen said.

Sam entered the room a few seconds later.

"So what's the plan?" he asked, stepping up to the table beside Callen and Gibbs.








Meanwhile...

In the bathroom downstairs, Kensi once again found herself kicking the underside of the sink, as she gripped the sides for support. Tears stained her cheeks, and her eyes were moist and red with emotion.

"Damn you!" she swore under her breath. "Damn you." she sobbed.

She looked up into the mirror at herself. "What am I doing?" she asked herself, quietly.

She reached over towards the paper towel dispenser that hung on the wall near the sink, and pulled several paper towels down to use. She turned on the sink next, and slightly dampened the first two paper towels that she now held in her hand(s).

She began dabbing at her face, fiercely, determined to remove all traces of the hideous 'make-up' that she had so foolishly put on this morning--thinking that it would get Gibbs' attention--that it would make a 'damn' bit of difference.

She tossed the first two, now soiled, pieces of paper towel(s) into the waste basket that set just below the sink on the left-hand side. Her 'make-up', now in long streaks stretched down the length of her face, still not completely removed/gone.

She pulled down several more pieces of paper towel(s), and repeated the arduous process.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, she finally was able to look at herself in the mirror without seeing any visible signs of that dreadful 'make-up' that she had been wearing earlier.

The fragrant perfume that still lingered about her person was a problem that she could not see any possible solution to at the present time--so she ultimately decided to just leave that one alone--for now anyway.

"How could I have been so stupid?" she wondered to herself, as she stared at herself in the mirror. "To think that 'three days'--'three days'--would actually mean 'anything' after all this time." she wondered, silently, to herself as she stood there. "How could I have been so 'foolish' to think that 'a three-day fling' would ever be any more than just 'that'--a 'three-day fling'." she ridiculed herself, as she kicked the underside of the sink, hard, one last time.

She looked down at her watch, now, and saw the time. She grabbed another paper towel, from the wall-dispenser, and dabbed at her eyes one more time to make sure that they were dry enough to be presentable to the others.

She straightened herself up, re-fixed her hair the way that she usually wore it on any other day of the week, and then headed back out of the bathroom--carrying herself as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened this morning.

--------To Be Continued--------
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