Title: Italian Bombshells

Author: Lalipop

Rating: T

Genre: Drama/Friendship

Fandom: NCIS

Disclaimer: NCIS does not belong to me, but Lia does.

Summary: McGee cleared his throat. "Boss, she isn't in the system, in any system. Hell, there isn't even a credit card with her name. According to the system, she doesn't exist." Gibbs cursed under his breath, but he didn't sound surprised. Not in the least.

Author's Notes: This is the revised version of "Assassins Don't Have Friends." The title might change soon. I'm also sorry for anyone that does speak Italian, because I used a translator.

Chapter the First

Newcomer

---------------------------------------------------------------------- I ----------------------------------------------------------------------

She had never been a bodyguard before, that was true. She was trained to kill, quickly, mercilessly, and efficiently. She was not supposed to be in a single place for very long, for such risked leaving evidence such as hair or fingerprints. She carried more weapons than most would be able to identify, and could pick these out on anyone else. She was part of a non-governmental organization that few people truly believed in, being mostly regarded as folklore. She knew nothing of computers, but she was a good fighter. She knew nothing of the names or origins of the skills she possessed, but she was well-versed in their usage. Strategy was a strong point, and she knew how to torture as well as kill. She could clean an entire house of evidence and plant this, both. She was deadly, trained to be, and had never protected a single person, other than herself, in her life.

Of course, for this person, she was willing to make an exception of every rule she had learned. She would not risk the girl's life.

Because of this, she took her time in investigating the threat and the girl's conditions on her way to the other's country. The girl lived alone, what a poor choice. She worked for the Naval Criminal Investigates Services in the capital of the United States, Washington, DC, as a laboratory technician of some kind. The files of her teammates, confidential but decrypted for the assassin, also lay on the small table before her. She would need to speak with the team leader and the director of the sector that the girl was part of.

The threat was far too well-hidden for anyone to have noticed except for someone who was keeping an extremely careful eye on the assassin's friend.

Don't be silly. Assassins don't have friends. We keep our cool. No such things as emotional bonds exist for us. That's what keeps us alive. Don't ever forget that.

She hadn't, of course. The lesson had been drilled into her mind since birth. She had colleagues, but they weren't officially "friends." The only emotional bond was for one's person, and contact was not allowed. The organization couldn't control emotional bonds, of course, so naturally one grew closer to one's colleagues. Sexual relationships happened infrequently, but when they did, romance was usually involved. Romance with an outsider was strictly forbidden. She knew that. She had never broken any rules. She didn't plan to.

She didn't seek a relationship of any kind that she hadn't established already. Her team was well as it was, and her friend outside was usually of no concern. Because she was a sector leader, shed' had no one to ask for permission to look into this threat.

Which she had to focus on once more.

She changed manila folders, crossing her legs and studying the minor disturbances. The girl had thought nothing of them. How her technical analyst had found the information was unknown to her, but she appreciated the man for that exact reason. He was capable of much she was not, and vice versa. The girl had been followed, always carefully enough she hadn't noticed anything. Yet, cameras in her proximity had caught the man; he was slim and undefined, rather short, honestly. He was always wearing something to hide his face, and his costume changed. Every time he was spotted, his guise had changed. Fortunately, her technical analyst had circled his silhouette in every picture.

There had also been disturbances in the girl's electronic pathways. Someone had hacked into her credit information, her desktop even. How the stalker had done so, why, and why her technical analyst had been unable to trace the hacks disturbed her. A single letter had been found in the girl's spam email folder, one the analyst had taken, deleted, and printed out for analysis by the rest of the team and their leader. The message had been equally disturbing, although it hadn't necessarily suggested threat to the girl's physical health.

As of yet, there had been no signal the stalker would become dangerous. Some stalkers didn't. But she was too careful to risk her friend's well-being in such a manner. This stalker had showed a disquieting nature already, and with ill minds, things rarely got better. With minds of this ailment, things only got worse and worse meant violent. This assassin was one that would not condone violence against the girl she had spent the better part of ten years befriending and caring for. No. Failure to protect was no acceptable.

---------------------------------------------------------------------- II ----------------------------------------------------------------------

Sneaking into the building was simple, much to her disappointment. The Americans had a horrible sense for security, even of a facility such as this, which hosted evidence and workers of the highest caliber. It was truly saddening how low this department's skill level was. Perhaps hers was simply too high? He lips twitched into a low frown for a brief second, before indifference once more replaced this.

Never show any emotion. Emotion can be used against you. In fact, don't have emotion. Block it out. Emotion is just as dangerous. It can be exploited if recognized. If you have emotion, someone will recognize it, and they will use it against you. Mark my words.

The elevator doors opened to reveal a large room with stairs to one side and several clustered cubicles. The cubicles themselves were spacey, hosting three to five desks each. Which did she search for?

Her photographic memory scanned back through the pictures and names in the agents' files. Ziva David, former liaison offers from the Mosad, was a pretty brunette with dark eyes and skin. Anthony DiNozzo was from rich family but disowned for his lifestyle, a light-haired brunette with clever eyes and a smirk. Timothy McGee was the technical analyst of the team as well as an author, with light brown hair and light blue eyes. Team Leader Leroy Gibbs was stoic, an ex-marine with white hair and limited knowledge of technology, much like her. They were easy enough to remember. Not on the team was the Director, a man whose first name she could not remember, strange as it was, but whose surname was Vance. He had milk-coffee skin and a mustache, with family of wife and children.

None of the others had family. Gibbs had lost his wife and child years ago. McGee had a sister, but she couldn't recall if she was still alive or what her name was. David had left her family behind when she had become a United States citizen. DiNozzo had been disowned, as she had previously noted. Family was not important in this case, however.

Eyes scanned each cubicles inhabitants, a pessimistic mind thinking they would not be present. They were, save for the white-haired Gibbs. As soon as her eyes recognized the faces from the files, she strode towards them, her gait obvious in the contained danger of her body. She had their attention the second she had made her entrance into their little cubicle, the men's mouths dropping open, the female's eyebrows differentiating greatly in height as one met her hairline.

"I seek Abigail Sciuto." The words came clear and crisp, hinting at no accent but that of finishing school, which was falsely assumed.

First of the three to recover some semblance of sense was the female, David was it not? She asked, her voice dry, "And you are?"

Again, the annoying twitch of her lips, signaling her displeasure and annoyance in the most miniscule frown. Indifference replaced it almost immediately, and she spoke just as clearly, "No one of consequence unless you find yourselves mixing into my business here. Now. I seek Abigail Sciuto. If you do not wish to inform me of her location, I shall find her myself."

She had turned her back, intending to return to the elevator and seek out the medical examiner – Dr. Mallord? – who she believed to reside in the basement during work hours. His file had stated he and her friend were relatively close, so perhaps he would be willing to surrender her laboratory's location. Before she was able to fulfill this train of thought, however, one of the males spoke up behind her, "That's not necessary, Miss…?"

She turned back, annoyance flickering in her eyes but otherwise keeping its absence from her expression. "You shall not learn my name unless I wish you to. Now. Show me to the laboratory of Abigail Sciuto or I will be required to take some sort of action. I do not wish to harm someone here because of a refusal to fill my simple request." She had learned how to speak, and how to negotiate. However, she was on even less sleep than she was accustomed to, and she was worried for her friend's condition. For all she might be aware of, one of these might be the persona in the pictures.

Her gaze flickered over their forms, studying carefully. None of their bodies were the correct shape. Both McGee and DiNozzo were too large, the woman too voluptuous. Whoever had done this lacked all sorts of definition. It was truly unfortunate. She had a strong urge to hurt one of these agents. What was also unfortunate was that Abigail would not wish her to. The girl was too kind.

"I'll show you were Abby's lab is," McGee stood, indicating she should follow him.

Her eyes watching him steadily for a long moment, and he gazed back for longer than most. When he did look away, a small smile graced her lips. She could remember Abigail speaking of him as an intimate partner, although the relationship had dissolved a long while ago. Nonetheless, she felt she would like the fellow, and followed him out of the cubicle. Behind her, she heard the following exchange.

"She has a cute ass," this, from DiNozzo, was as crude as the file had stated he was.

"Tony!" The ex-Mossad member spoke indignantly, the whack of a manila folder against a sleeved arm was too familiar to the assassin not to be recognized when it came seconds later. Her smile grew more sincere, more noticeable. For once, she didn't bother to wipe it away.

---------------------------------------------------------------------- III ----------------------------------------------------------------------

The louder the music, the better. The gothic brunette danced about in her lab, stringy black pigtails flailing wildly as she accomplished what could not, under any circumstances, be considered work. McGee recognized that the second he and the stranger entered the room, and he was forced to plug his ears or have an ever more severe headache later. Was Abby going deaf?

Much to his surprise, the stranger's limbs seemed to loosen, almost as if in relief, such a sudden release of tension it couldn't be anything else. Even more so, she seemed not to mind the volume. She approached the stereo from which the noise erupted, studied it for a moment, then reached out and delicately pressed a button. Silence ensued immediately. Abby ceased her dancing to look around in confusion, the straw of her Caf-Pow still between her dark red lips.

Recognition sprung into her expression as she sprung into the stranger's arms just seconds later, exclaiming, "LIA! You're back!"

Although the stranger hesitated at first, she took a moment to return the hug before stepping back and studying the girl before her. "You look well, Abigail. That is good."

"Why do you sound so surprised, Lia?" the Goth questioned, sipping her Caf-Pow.

Instead of answering, the stranger took the soda cup away and grimaced. "You have not yet broken this disgusting addiction of yours, Abigail? Truly, you must cease consuming this horrible mixture. As a scientist of your standing, you should know that."

McGee swore it was the first time he'd ever seen Abby look truly embarrassed.

"Now, as for my presence…" the stranger hesitated, glancing over her shoulder at McGee, distrust clear in her eyes. He knew without asking or anything having been said that she would not share with him in earshot. "Leave, Special Agent McGee. This is a private conversation. On your way out, you may also inform whoever might be listening outside that they should leave as well. I shall disarm the cameras momentarily. And yes, I know where every single one is. I can also see the voice feeds. Pardon my crude behavior if I break them rather than successfully disarm them."

"Lia!" Abby jumped in, looking horrified. "There's no need to break the equipment in this room. You have no idea how much it costs. Okay, maybe you do. But still. And we can trust McGee."

The stranger's glare could have shrunk Gibbs. "Non mi fido facilmente. Si deve sapere che."

"Lia, we can trust McGee," Abby insisted, almost sounding pleading. "If there's anyone on the team I'm okay with you not trusting, it's Tony, but you can trust McGee."

"Chiunque tu sia alla porta, entra, ora!" the stranger exclaimed suddenly, glaring at the door.

It took a few moments, but after a bit of murmuring, Ziva and Tony filed in, both looked aptly embarrassed. How they had understood the angry Italian was anyone's guess. Although McGee thought he could remember Ziva saying something about knowing basic Italian.

"I do not appreciate being spied on, no matter how hypocritical it might seem of me," the Italian stranger said, having returned to English – much to McGee and Tony's relief. "I realize you have stood there for the entirety of our conversation, and I also realize that my temper is a tad short due to my lack of sleep and anxiety for a friend, but this does not excuse your behavior. Is spying not illegal by the American government?"

"I'd prefer it if you didn't yell at my team, Miss…?" a voice interrupted, and Gibbs entered as well. McGee was tempted to groan. This was just getting better.

The stranger sighed. After a moment, however, she swung out an arm and swept a formal-looking bow by bending at the waist. Gibbs imitated the movement, although his head dipped lower. "Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, I presume?"

"Correct," Gibbs grunted, straightening, his gaze untelling.

The stranger titled her head to the side. "You are a former Marine, correct?" He nodded, she followed suit. "I believe our peoples have worked together in the past, have they not?"

"They have," Gibbs acknowledged, looking a bit tense, "But it didn't end well."

If the barb was meant to faze the Italian stranger, it failed, utterly and completely. McGee doubted the woman had even understood that the remark was meant to be disarming.

"I think you should introduce yourself, Lia," Abby nudged the other woman's side, biting her lip.

The stranger nodded. "My name is Lia Marcella Ricci. I work as a special agent for a company, the name of which you do not have the clearance to know. I seek a business meeting with Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs and NCIS Director Leon Vance. It is a matter of life or death."

---------------------------------------------------------------------- IV ----------------------------------------------------------------------

"She's a total hottie," Tony grinned as he watched the Italian stranger moved up the stairs, following Gibbs. "And she's Italian. Man, French shouldn't be the language of love – Italian should be."

Abby rolled her eyes. "I've seen Lia turn down guys with better bodies and more money than you, Tony. She's downright cruel when it comes to guys."

"No one can turn down this," Tony gestured to himself, earning snorts from both Ziva and Abby.

"Don't get your hopes up, and don't say I didn't warn you," Abby sighed. She crossed her arms, gaze moving up the stairs and lingering on the door to Director Vance's office. She sighed again, chewing her bottom lip apprehensively.

"What is wrong, Abby?" Ziva inquired, tilting her head to the side.

Another sigh came from the gothic scientist. "I haven't seen Lia in years, but she's always watched over me. When she left, she said she would never return unless there was something huge going on. If she's here… trouble isn't far behind." A humorless chuckle escaped. "She always sees the trouble before anyone else does. Amazing instincts."

"You are very close," Ziva murmured.

"Yeah…we've been friends for so long… It's kinda scary," Abby smiled. She glanced at Tony, grin widening. "I'm amazed you shut up so quickly."

"I'm devising my hunt down the hot Italian chick plan," Tony muttered, kicking his feet up and entwining his fingers upon his stomach –

-- just as Gibbs returned, barking out, "McGee, send Lia Ricci through the system. I want all records – background, criminal, military, personal. I want every scrap of information you can get on the woman. Now." Tony quickly removed his feet from his desk before the white-haired ex-Marine yelled at him.

McGee cleared his throat, ears tainting a red color. "Boss, she isn't in the system, in any system. There's absolutely nothing on her anywhere. No criminal record, no military record. Hell, there isn't even a credit card or newspaper with her name. She hasn't touched anything so we can't finger print her, and there's no match for her face. According to the system, she doesn't exist."

Gibbs cursed under his breath, but he didn't sound surprised. Not in the least.

"Is there a problem, Boss?" Tony asked curiously.

Gibbs sighed, running a hand over his hair, and looking up at the door to Director Vance's office. Just as the rest of the team looked up, the door opened, and the stranger came out, followed by Director Vance. The two made their way down the stairs and to the cubicle.

Just as Tony was about to repeat his question, Director Vance introduced, "You have a new member on your team. Meet temporary Special Agent Lia Ricci."

The team stared at the new team member as she bowed – the same bow she had used for Gibbs earlier. "It is a pleasure to join the team," the indifference on her face made the statement difficult to believe, at least for Tony. But then, he'd also always liked the chase. "However, I must stress that my priority is now, and will be for the remainder of my stay, Abigail."

"Of course, Miss Ricci," Director Vance agreed, sending a glare in Gibbs' direction. "But you must keep in mind that, for the sake of not drawing attention to yourself, you will be required to take part in the team's investigations."

The Italian nodded. "Yes, Director Vance, but I do have something I neglected to ask a moment ago." She tugged the man aside, murmuring to him.

Tony tried to hide his celebration.

Translations

"Non mi fido facilmente. Si deve sapere che." – I do not trust easily. You should know that.

"Chiunque tu sia alla porta, entra, ora!" – Whoever is at the door, enter, now!

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