The street was quiet, the only noise the dull rumbling of a lorry travelling over the overpass on the other side of the houses. The drunken man sang, boisterously along his path, ignorant of how much his voice echoed back through the street in his worryless stupour.

Lifting the bottle as though it weighed too much for him, he spun once in a flourish, as though bowing for an audience, before turning down a small alleyway, tripping over his own feet.

It took him a few seconds to realised he was lying down. He grumbled, quietly to himself about the unfairity of the world, moving a hand to push himself up. The firmness of the rag suprised him, but not as much as the blank, staring eyes that stood out in the darkness. With a cry, he jerked backwards, falling over himself as he pushed back towards the entrance.

The bottle clinked in his hand, causing him to stop. Looking at it, almost reassuringly, he took a gulp, ignoring the dribble that sneaked past his mouth and into his beard and clothes. Leaning against the wall, he pulled himself up, turning away from the alley, forgetting the dead body that was invisible to the street it sat on.


There was a light hum of overhead lights, audible over the quiet tapping of keys and the scatching of a pen. DiNozzo signed the last sheet with a flourish, grinning as he lay the pen down, smiling across the way to his co-worker.

Ziva glanced over at him. "What?"

"Oh." He said, leaning backwards. "It's nothing."

Ziva shook her head, frowning, turning back to her emails. DiNozzo frowned, standing up and moving over to her desk.

"Aren't you going to push me? Interrogate me?"

"Meh." She smiled up at him. "Do you want me to?"

DiNozzo paled at the thought, blushing slightly at McGee's laugh. He spun on his feet, turning to him instead.

"What about you? Don't you want to know?"

McGee sighed, used to him acting like this. "Want to know what?"

"That I have just found a girl. And she's beautiful, she's stunning, she's clever-"

"What happened to Jane, and Emily?" McGee muttered, concentrating on his computer.

Ziva grinned. "And Rebecca, Lucy, Marisse, Laura-Jo, Cathy-"

"Okay okay, I get the point." He grumbled, slinking over to his desk. "But I really think she's-"

Ziva cut him off with a snort, reaching for her cell phone as it rang.

"Hello?"

The phone was silent, the empty buzzing of the dial tone greeting her. She frowned, checking the number, confused as it came up unknown.

McGee caught the look. "What's wrong?"

"Just the call. Nobody answered."

"But, they rang you?" He said, brows drawn together.

She shrugged, closing the phone and placing it on her desk. "Must be nothing."

The phone rang again, and Ziva reached for it, growling slightly when it cut itself off again.

DiNozzo watched on, amused. "You being prank called there Ziva?"

She turned her gaze to him, threateningly raising her eyebrows. DiNozzo gulped and backed away.

"I mean, it's okay if you are, it happens to the best of us, right probie?"

"That's because it's you who prank called me thirty four times in a row. In one night."

DiNozzo sighed and tilted his head. "That was fun."

Ziva's phone rang again, and she dived for it, flipping it open and hissing into it. "Who ever the hell you are! Stop-"

"Ziva."

"Gibbs?" She quietened down, looking away from the two who were wincing in front of her.

"You having a problem with your phone, David?"

She sighed. "It would appear so."

"Then switch it off."

She paused. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Go home. Tell the others. You can finish the paperwork in the morning."

He hung up leaving her listening to the dial tone. "Well that was interesting."

"He didn't blow up?" DiNozzo asked, frowning.

"Nope. Told us to go home."

"He's letting us go early?"

"Apparently so." She stood up and turned, lifting her bag off the cabinet behind her. The other two copied the movement, heading to the elevator after finishing up and switching their computers off.

An agent stepped out as the doors opened, head down and gliding towards one of the conference rooms towards the back of the building.

DiNozzo raised his eyebrows at the retreating figure, taking in his brown hair that glinted as he passed a light.

"Wasn't that Raymers?"

Ziva frowned, turning to look as he vanished round a corner. "I thought Raymers only worked on a weekday morning?"

"Maybe he got called in for over time?" McGee offered as the doors closed. The two shrugged, turning their attention to why Gibbs had let them off early.


Tom Raymers bit the inside of his cheek as he pushed open the door to the room, arms filled with papers they wanted filing. He sighed quietly. This was not what he had signed up for.

In the room, there were three other agents, doing similar jobs with similar feelings. One of the men in the corner looked up and grinned.

"Thought you'd gone for coffee."

"Yeah, well, any excuse to give the newbie more work and the entire office has something for you to do."

The man snorted, grinning, his dark hair cut short. The men in the room had told him they'd been part of NCIS for six months, doing little up front. The group consisted of himself, the black haired man known as Jameson, Roberts, the small, quiet woman, and Greg, a filled out man, so to speak.

Roberts smiled as he dumped the stack on the table. "Looks like you got stuck with the brunt of it."

He shrugged in reply, moving to the doorway. "Still want that coffee?"

There was a chorus of assents as he stepped out, closing the door behing him.

One other man was at the coffee station when he arrived, mixing what looked like black tar into a cup, and taking a sip without grimacing. Tom did it for him, as he moved to his side, reaching for the cups.

He watched the grey haired man out of the corner of his eye, making the coffee absently as he did so. The man turned and leant his back against the bar top, looking out the window at the encroaching night.

He's been told his name was Gibbs, a formidable agent around the office as well as outside work. Greg had told him once he's seen Gibbs fight with two men twice his size and come out with only a black eye. Jameson had told him he wasn't exactly the nicest person round here.

Taking the milk packets from behind Agent Gibbs, he balanced the four cups into one hand, turning his back to the agent. The man sighed quietly, almost in audible against the muted noises of the machines in the room before following him out.

Gibbs passed through the empty bullpen, reaching his desk with no apparent hurry. There he sat down heavily, pulling forward the file that had sat on his desk for months.

There was a bang, and a muttered curse, as Raymers fell over an out-sticking chair from the bullpen next to his. Gibbs looked over with raised eyebrows.

"Ow, ow ow ow." He muttered, rubbing his forehead. The coffee's stood, three out of four unharmed as the last one leaked across the floor. He picked himself up slowly, wincing as he pulled himself to his feet.

Gibbs lifted the fallen cup off the ground, taking in the growing puddle as Tom placed the saved cups on the empty desk. He offered a small smile.

"Thanks."

Gibbs just moved back to his desk, seeing the newbie move towards the conference rooms. He sighed inside his head, and slid the folder into his drawer. No point straining over it tonight.

He pulled his jacket on as he slid into the lift, missing the lasting look Raymers gave him as the door closed.


Tom sighed as the last sheet of paper was filed away into the creamy brown faced filing cabinets. Beside him, Jameson grinned.

"Well that took longer than expected."

Greg flicked his sleeve up, glancing at his watch. "Thank God we have tomorrow off. And the day after."

Roberts flicked the empty coffee cup further down the table. "Yeah, well God shouldn't have given us all this extra paperwork. Don't see why it couldn't have waited till monday."

"I heard," Jameson started, leaning forward conspiratively, "That the Secretary of the Navy was coming down to see Director Vance, so they wanted everything in order."

Greg raised his eyebrows. "Really? Where did you hear that?"

"One of the agents was saying about it when they were making coffee."

Roberts sighed, pushing herself to her feet. "Doesn't make no difference to me. I'm going home."

Greg shrugged. "I second that."

Jameson turned to Tom, smiling a little. "You care, do you?"

He snorted. "Not likely. If it means we have to do extra paperwork, I'd rather he didn't come."

The group lifted themselves from their seats, heading out the door way with their cups in their hands.

"Spoil sports." Jameson muttered, switching the light off and closing the door behind them. They moved to the elevator, before Tom froze.

"My jacket."

They sighed, Greg patting his back. "Only you kid. Go get it. We'll see you monday."

The group said their goodbyes as he turned, heading back towards the conference room. There he paused, looking both ways before sliding down the conference room. No one was around to see him.

Tom stopped outside a storage room, slipping inside before locking it. He pulled out a small, metal ball from his pocket, pushing in two sides of it and sticking it to the wall behind one of the boxes, before moving out of the room.

The next time he stopped was at an office, seldom used. He had been shown around on his first day, and it had been explained that most Senior Agents prefered to stay by there teams than be seperated. In here, he picked a file from the desk, and slid it under his arm. From his pocket, he took a paperclip, and swapped the one in the file to his own, before heading out the room.

He took the stairs slowly, pausing to look around he pressed a thing layer of plastic to the door of MTAC. He continued on to the Directors office. As he was about to walk in, there was a shout behind him, and a frowning cast woman came to a stop as he spun.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was asked to give the Director this." He said, dipping his head slightly as though embarassed. "I don't suppose you'll give him it for me."

The woman looked him over carefully, before shrugging. "Sure. I don't suppose your new?"

He grinned a little. "That obvious, huh?"

The woman laughed, offering her hand out to him. "Cynthia."

"Tom." The two shook hands, before he held out the file. "What gave me away?"

"The Director always goes home on a Friday night. To see his kids."

"Ah." He nodded, smiling a little. "I suppose everybody knows that."

She smiled, slipping the folder into a pile that sat on her desk. "Most people do."

Tom smiled. "Then how come your still here if your Boss has gone."

"I'm on my way home now actually." She showed the keys dangling from her other hand. "I just spotted you."

He blushed slightly, before offering her his arm old fashionedly. "Well then I apologise. I don't suppose you'd let me walk you to your car in recompense?"

Cynthia giggled to herself, before slipping her arm through his. "Don't mind if I do."

The two laughed, before moving towards the elevator, leaving the file, and the swapped paperclip, sitting on the desk.


(A/N) And here it is! The Sequel! To Some Things Just Don't Work Out!

What do you think? Did you spot Alex? R&R!