"Wow, I thought I'd die before I ever heard a complim—" Kate began. Then the shot cut her short. Her body fell straight back and she lay there, staring up at the sky.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs raised his gun and turned toward the direction the shot had come from. The nearest building was over 500 yards away, too far to see the shooter. But it didn't matter because he knew who had pulled the trigger. "Ari," he whispered.

But he was supposed to be after me, he thought. Not Kate. Why did he kill Kate?

A flood of emotions that he had only felt once before, when he had learned of Shannon and Kelly's deaths, filled him. No, he thought. Not again. Not now. He took three deep breaths and the pain went away. It was replaced with numbness. The pain would come later, when he was alone.

He turned around and saw DiNozzo kneeling over her body.

Tony DiNozzo dropped to one knee and felt Kate's neck for a pulse, though why he was bothering was a mystery to him. The hole in her head was a pretty clear indication that she was dead. The best guess he could make was that he was acting on pure instinct. He then reached up and gently closed her eyes.

He wasn't sure how to deal with this. He had never lost a team-member before, not like this. This was new. And Tony DiNozzo didn't do new very well.

He was stirred from these thoughts by McGee's voice ringing through his ear-wig. "Boss? Tony? Kate? What's going on? Did you get the last guy?"

Tony looked up at Gibbs, not sure what to say. What he saw scared him. Gibbs was just staring at Kate. He had a vacant look in his eyes that Tony had never seen before. And that scared him. Gibbs was never phased by anything. This is bad, he thought.

"Guys, talk to me!" McGee said, his voice sounding panicked.

Tony finally spoke up. "Calm down, Probie."

"God, Tony, don't do that to me! What's happening up there?"

There's no easy way to say it, he thought. "Kate's dead, Probie." It was actually easier to say out loud than he had thought it would be. Is that a good sign or a bad one?

Timothy McGee froze as Tony's words echoed in his ear.

It can't be true, he thought. "That's not funny Tony," he said.

"Do you hear me laughing?" Tony asked.

That was when the reality began to sink in. "How?" was the only word he could bring himself to say.

"Shot through the head."

"Who did it?" McGee asked.

"Ari. It had to be."

"I thought he was after Gibbs. Why would he kill Kate?

"I don't friggin' know, Probie!" Tony snapped. "The bastard was on a rooftop at least five-hundred yards away, so I didn't exactly get to ask!"

"Alright, Tony. There's no need to shout."

"You're right," Tony said after a minute. "I'm sorry."

"What do we do now?" McGee asked, fighting back tears. He couldn't believe she was really gone. Kate had been like an older sister to him. She could be as big a pain as Tony, but even while she was hazing him, he knew he could always count on her to be there for him.

"Call it in," Gibbs said, stirring him out of his thoughts. "This is a crime scene now."

"Yes, boss," the younger agent said, pulling out his cell phone.

"Then call you and DiNozzo call Abby and Ducky. I'll need them, and I don't want them to hear this through the grapevine."

Abby Scuito was just getting back from refilling her Caf-Pow when the phone on her desk rang. She turned off her music and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Abby?" McGee said.

"Hey, McGee! How's Norfolk? Did you bring down that terrorist cell?"

"Abby, listen to me. I have some bad news."

She didn't like the way that sounded. She slowly sat down. "What is it?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Then McGee said it. "Kate's dead, Abby."

"No!" she gasped. "No you're wrong, you have to be!"

"I wish I was, Abby. I'm looking at her body now."

A million questions flooded her mind at once, but the only ones she asked were "How?" and "Who?"

"It was Ari, Abby. He shot her."

Abby couldn't say anything through the tears. Kate dead? It didn't seem possible. She had just been here a few hours ago, when Abby told her about the dream she had had the night before. Her reassurance that it was just that—a dream—helped a lot. And now she was gone. It wasn't fair.

"Abby?" McGee was saying. "I've got to go. We're processing the scene now, but I wanted to give you a heads up so you didn't hear it from, you know, someone else."

Despite her sadness, Abby smiled. "Gibbs told you to call didn't he?"

"Well, yes," McGee said, surprised. "But I would have called you anyway."

"McGee?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"No problem. I've got to go, now," he said and hung up.

Abby placed the phone back on the cradle and stared out across her lab. In a few hours, any and all evidence collected would be coming through this lab, and she needed to be ready for it.

For the first time in her life, she didn't even play her music.

Dr. Donald "Ducky" Mallard was just finishing the dinner dishes when the phone in the hall rang. Quickly drying his hands, he answered it. "Mallard residence, Donald speaking."

"Ducky?" the male voice on the other end of the line said.

"Ah, Anthony," Ducky said recognizing the voice. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?"

"It's bad news, Ducky."

"Oh?" the old man said, both intrigued and hesitant.

"It's Kate. She's dead."

"Dear Lord," the old doctor said, leaning against the table for support. "How?"

"Ari Haswari, our friendly neighborhood terrorist. He shot her."

Ducky fought to quell the rage that threatened come racing to the surface at the mention of the man who had taken him and his then assistant Gerald Jackson hostage in their own morgue. "Have you caught the bastard?"

"Not yet. But we will."

"Well, when you do, put a couple of bullets in him for me, will you?"

"You'll have to take a number on that one, Ducky. You're currently behind Gibbs and myself--and maybe McGee if he ever gets over the shock."

"Has Dr. Kilgore arrived yet?" Ducky said changing the subject.

"Yeah, he pulled in about twenty minutes ago."

"Put her on, please."

Two minutes later a different voice, a woman's, spoke. "Dr. Mallard? Is there a problem?"

"I hope not. I understand you are examining Agent Todd's body."

"Yes. In fact I'm doing that right now, so if you could get to the point, I'd really appreciate it."

"Of course. I would like to perform the autopsy myself. You and your staff can take the night off."

"Is that wise? I know how close you two were."

"That's exactly why it has to be me."

"Dr. Mallard--" Dr. Kilgore began, but Ducky quickly cut her off.

"Dr. Kilgore," he snapped, "as I am the agency's chief medical examiner, I believe that such decisions are mine, not yours, to make. If you don't like that arrangement, then you can find another job!"

"Yes, sir," Dr. Kilgore said. "Agent Todd will be in Autopsy when you arrive."

"Thank you. And I'm sorry for my outburst. It was unprofessional of me."

"I understand. I'll leave my preliminary examination notes with the body."

"Thank you," Ducky said, and then he hung up.

An hour later, after putting his mother to bed, he walked to his car. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he started the car and pulled out of the driveway. As he drove, it started to rain.

As Gibbs stared out at the now pouring rain, the feelings he had suppressed earlier on the roof came flooding back. He could hear Kate's voice in his head.

Why me, Gibbs? Wasn't stopping one bullet enough for you? Why did I have to take two?!

Fighting back tears, he said three words he hadn't said out loud since he became an NCIS agent. "I don't know."

You don't know? Come on Gibbs. What's that famous gut tell you?

He couldn't say it. Not again. But it was the only answer he had. Kate's voice then screamed the one question that had been bugging him the whole time.

WHY DID I DIE INSTEAD OF YOU?!

Still he had no answer.