Prologue

This is primarily a casefic but there is some interpersonal stuff. Apart from the Navy Yard and Walter Reed, all locations are fictional. I don't own NCIS, naturally.


The black-clad thief bypassed the last alarm and smiled in satisfaction. A hand was run hand lovingly across the frame of the painting. Just a few more steps and then it's mine.

The thief removed it from the wall and took the canvas out of the frame. The shipping tube that was brought along was opened and the replacement painting withdrawn. The original was gently rolled up and put in the shipping tube. The thief closed it and put it in a shoulder bag. Now, if there was any interruption, the cover-up could be abandoned and the bag simply grabbed before running. But for now, the longer nobody noticed, the better.

The frame was filled with the replacement canvas and re-mounted on the wall. Alarm bypasses on the frame undone, the thief picked up the bag and backed up a few steps. Looking at the painting, the thief grinned when confirming that the subtle change made to the subject of the painting didn't show up unless you looked at the forgery up close. Excellent.

The main task done, all that was left was to make a clean getaway. The bag was slung securely over one shoulder and across the chest to the opposite hip. The thief carefully backtracked, removing all the alarm bypasses along the way - no need to let them know exactly how it was done, after all. The roof of the museum was reached and the thief took a grapnel gun out of the bag. The gun was pointed at a tree just outside the fence and fired. A nod of satisfaction was the only acknowledgment when the bolt went over the limb. A button on the gun was pressed which made the bolt open into a three-pronged grapnel. The rope was pulled back until the prongs of the grapnel engaged the limb and the rope stretched taut. A homemade remote-detachable tiedown was used to fasten the rope securely to an architectural feature on the old museum building.

The thief made sure his gloves were smooth then gripped the rope. Staying standing, the thief hung by the rope to make sure it would hold all the weight long enough. Once sure it would hold, the thief dipped into the bag again and withdrew a strip of thick canvas that had loops on each end. The canvas was flipped over the rope and hands stuck through the loop on each end. With the canvas gripped right at the points where the loops ended, the thief took a deep breath and pushed off the building.

A jogger was running down the sidewalk that was next to the street around the museum grounds when he saw the shadow of something fall to the ground. His trained eyes suddenly focused and saw someone stand up and look back at the museum. He stopped running and ducked behind a tree and watched carefully. He watched as the person pointed something at the museum and then started reeling in what looked like a rope. Hmm. Fell to the ground from a rope, huh? Dressed in black at night, huh? Why don't I get the feeling this person is entirely innocent.

The jogger decided he needed to do something so he crept closer to the black-clad figure who he had guessed had most likely stolen something from the museum. Even as he got closer, he kept his eye on the person who was putting everything in a bag that was slung over a shoulder. The person was dressed in such a way that he couldn't tell if the gender. He was within five feet when his foot failed to avoid a dry stick and stepped on it. The crack of the stick breaking rang out in the silence and he winced as the figure's head whipped around to look in his direction before running off in the opposite direction.

"Stop!" the man shouted, running after the supposed thief. Of course, the thief ignored him so he chased the thief through the trees. After about fifty yards he caught up and tackled the thief. His arms were shoved off and the thief jumped up with an agility that spoke of long training. He growled to himself and jumped up himself then suddenly doubled over as the thief snap-kicked him in the stomach. When he quickly went upright again to defend himself, the thief was already five yards away. Obviously escape was a greater priority for the thief right now. He resumed the chase and with his greater speed was able to catch up again. He jumped and tackled the thief again. They were pretty close to a tree and he saw the thief's head glance off of the tree and shake as if in pain. His opponent, however, was not dazed and struck back with a quick elbow to his throat. He ducked his chin down but the blow was still hard enough that his chin stung. He reflexively darted a hand to his chin and frowned when he felt wetness - his skin had been cut.

He saw the thief do a similar hand-wipe to the cheek and grinned toothily when he saw the glint of wetness as the light from a nearby streetlight hit the thief's hand. One each.

They both stood up at the same time and looked at each other.

"I will not be taken alive."

The man nodded. The voice was carefully neutral in pitch and had a hint of a foreign accent. "A noble sentiment. Let's see if you can make it come true."

"So be it."

They came together in the dark, trading blows and blocks, each feeling the other out. Each realizing within a few quick minutes that their opponent was highly trained. The jogger was a Navy Seal on shore leave, highly trained not only to fight in multiple styles, but to recognize multiple other styles also and their counters. He frowned as he fought - he could not recognize the style the thief was fighting with as being from any of the other services he had studied. Not from one of our services, then.

They circled each other as they continued to trade blows, each hampered in their own way. He was slightly bigger, both in height and weight so was just a little bit slower and, to his disgust, less agile. The thief, on the other hand, was encumbered by the bag which was still over a shoulder. Whatever the thief had stolen was inside that bag and he could understand why the thief refused to remove it. He continued his assessment. He had trained with NATO forces of various countries and he didn't think the thief's style fit any of them. He finally gave up, figuring it was probably just another one of the many obscure arts that arose in the Asian part of the world, and just concentrated on staying alive as the blows from the thief came faster and faster. He could tell that the thief was getting more desperate for escape as time ticked by. They were within view of the street now and obviously there was a danger of a passing police car seeing them.

What finished the fight was a little thing. He stepped into a block and his foot slid on the soft ground so his block wasn't placed correctly and the thief quickly pounced on it. A flurry of blows precisely timed to take advantage of that mistake got through causing him to stagger backwards. The thief pressed the attack and leaped at him with a flying kick. His head snapped back as the kick landed and he fell backwards, knocking his head hard on something. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was a car screeching to a stop and the thief running away.