Death of a Sailor

Summary: A suspicious death leads to more trouble for the team. Set in Kos, Greece. Some Jibbs. Lily!

Spoilers: Only for my two previous stories, NonExistent Numbers, and The Embassy Incident. Interrogation is referenced briefly as well. It should be possible to read this one without reading the others.

A/N: I confess to writing this chapter very late at night, when my brain wasn't quite engaged. I've checked it since so it should make sense... Thanks to my wonderful beta Kristen!

Chapter 1: Prologue

Tony DiNozzo wiped another bead of sweat from his forehead and glanced around in frustration. Why would anyone live in a place that was so damn hot? Everyone else seemed to be withstanding the waves of heat; waves that would make Hell look freezing in comparison.

They were at, of all places, a funeral. But no, this couldn't be a simple funeral detail, out in the open air. Somehow, the Director had been dragged into it, which meant that Gibbs had decided to be overprotective and bring his entire team with him to keep her safe. He had mentioned crazy CIA agents who might just be tempted to blow the coffin sky high because her coffee wasn't warm enough. This justification must have gone down well with the SecNav, as the whole Major Case Response team had been put on protective duty for the Director.

To make matters worse, they were in Kos. Or, as he had termed it when he learnt that no toilet paper could be flushed into the drains, 'the hottest, most backward little Greek island ever'. Gibbs hadn't bothered to head-slap him, instead going in search of coffee. The private plane that had taken them to the island had had a broken coffee machine, much to the team's horror. Gibbs without his caffeine fix was a scary sight.

Tony glanced around again. He honestly didn't know what Gibbs was expecting. Half the Greek army to pop out from behind the nearest mountain and start taking pot shots? The Greeks and the Turks to suddenly decide to fight over the island again? The entire funeral party to ritually slaughter the Director?

Ziva stood about ten paces away, as alert as ever. The heat and humidity didn't appear to bother her in the slightest. Even the Probie, who was the other side of the coffin, seemed unaffected by the heat. Tony doubted that any weather could bother Gibbs, and the Director appeared to be coping as well.

A tall, plump man moved to the head of the coffin to say a few words. Tony tried to make his brain function again. He was Mark… Mark Sutcliff, some Washington bigshot. It was his son who had died… committed suicide. Petty Officer Daniel Sutcliff? Who had been… on leave? Tony resisted the urge to shake his head to clear it. How many people died here from the heat?

Jennifer Shepard was profoundly relieved when the service was over. She wasn't sure how she had been coerced into attending. After all, she hadn't known the decreased, barely knew the father, and there hadn't been an NCIS investigation into the death. One phone call from the SecNav, who had told her to get out there, had been her only warning.

Truth be told, the only reason she had shown up was the thought that Lily might be behind it. It was very like her to operate in roundabout ways, and Jenny hadn't heard from her sister in a few weeks. But there had been no contact, no hint at all that she was even in this hemisphere. And the lack of contact could simply be attributed to some classified mission.

She had been intrigued by Jethro's determination to keep her protected. She wondered if it had anything to do with a late night visit she was certain that Lily would have made by now…

As she moved away to mingle with the guests, people she had never met or heard of, she noticed Mark making his way over to her. If Lily hadn't requested her presence, perhaps it was the father.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Director," he greeted her warmly.

She was instantly alert; he appeared too cheerful straight after burying his son. "It was not a problem," she lied, pondering how to attract Jethro's attention without being too obvious. Not for the first time, she wished Lily were present. Sometimes it was exceptionally useful to have someone who could practically read your mind.

"I'm afraid that I called in a few favors with your boss to get you out here," he confessed, taking her arm and guiding her away from the others slightly. "I have a small problem."

"Okay…" She wasn't sure where he was going with this, and wasn't sure if she wanted to find out.

"I don't believe that my son committed suicide."

Gibbs surveyed the scene again. McGee was staying near to the coffin. Tony looked as though he was about to collapse with heatstroke; Gibbs made a mental note to ask Ducky to check him out the moment they got stateside. Ziva was quietly shadowing the Director. And Jenny was… she had moved to the edge of the group, conversing softly with the father.

He forced down the irrational jealousy that coursed through his veins, reminding himself that Mark What's-his-name was married and his grieving wife was currently surrounded by mourners. Deciding that marching over and physically removing Jenny from the situation would put him in her bad books, and probably Lily's too, he ended up glaring at his senior field agent. Tony had the sense to look abashed, and rapidly integrated himself with the nearest group of mourners to the Director.

"Why do you believe that?" Jenny knew better than to lead the man. Was this why she had been called out? Did he know that she was the Director, that asking for a team instead would have been a better option?

Mark sighed. "My son… he would never have killed himself."

"Sometimes people feel they have no way out," she told him softly. She wondered if he knew about her father's supposed suicide.

"My son was a Catholic," Mark replied. "He believed, as I do and my family does, that suicide is a sin. That it will take you straight to Hell."

Jenny felt sympathetic, but still didn't see what she could do to help. "If he was depressed –"

"My son called me the day before his death. He seemed to be under a little stress, but nothing that would make him do this! Nothing! Please, can you look into his death? If he killed himself, I need to know why. And if he didn't, I want his murderer to suffer as I am suffering."

Jenny considered. "I suppose… I suppose my team could remain here for a few days and investigate."

"And you too?" He was almost pleading.

"Only for a few days," she told him. 'What have I just got into?' she wondered.