Chapter One: Anthrax Animosity

Matthew

His senses were overwhelmed, but he couldn't see the shooter. He just had an eerie feeling that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He knew that the shooter was out there, but the icy eyes of Matthew Crawley could not locate the target. His SIG was out in front of him, and he knew that if he met his demise in this dark alley, then NCIS would have trouble replacing him.

He heard the sound of footsteps, and spun around wildly, his heart pounding in his chest.

A voice came out of the shadows. "Hello Special Agent Crawley."

Matthew's eyes widened. "You." He said in shock.

The man stepped out of the shadows, revealing the oily hair and cold eyes of the terrorist he'd been hunting for three years.

Thomas Barrow grinned as he held up the gun. "Me." He said simply.

He pulled the trigger.

Matthew Reginald Crawley shot up in bed, staring around in a panic. He sighed, lying back on the pillow. Another nightmare. One that he couldn't seem to stop having. He rolled over, running his hand through his sandy blonde hair. It was 0313. He would be at work in three hours' time. Until then, he resolved himself to get some sleep.

When he woke up again, he knew he had just enough time to grab a coffee on his way to work. Matthew Reginald Crawley was the head of the best team at NCIS, the Major Case Response Team. He was the best of the best, even if he and the director didn't always agree. When he arrived at work, his subordinates (well, two of them) were already there.

"Nice to see you early today, Branson." He commented.

Special Agent Tom Branson looked up from his desk. He was scribbling something. "Morning Crawley." Was his casual comment.

"You're early too, Crawley."

The long, dark hair of the woman who sat in the desk next to him, swung around her face as she turned to look at him, startled. They had the same last name, but Special Agent Mary Crawley was nothing like him.

"No. I'm actually not." She replied, annoyed, going back to typing.

Matthew looked over at the empty desk next to Branson's. "Branson, where the hell is Grey?"

"I don't know, boss. He could be anywhere. Probably out with a girlfriend last night, and hungover today."

"Wouldn't surprise me." Mary commented.

Matthew rolled his eyes. He looked at his phone when it rang.

"Special Agent Crawley." He answered impatiently. He hung up after a few minutes.

"Gear up."

"Do you want me to gas the truck?" Branson asked.

"Nope. You're staying here and helping Sybil."

"What about me, Crawley?" Mary asked, her eyes cold as steel. She clearly didn't trust him. Regardless that she was the recent transfer not he.

"You and Grey are coming with me."

"What's up boss?" Special Agent Larry Grey was casual in asking when he walked in the bullpen- late, as usual.

"We've got a raped Petty Officer, on the USS Falcon. We're flying out at 0900 from Norfolk. Pack a toothbrush, we may be there a few days." He stood up, and walked to the elevator.

He turned. "Are you two coming or not?"

Grey and Mary glared at each other, and he hissed at her, as they ran after Matthew to get in the elevator.

Grey

Arriving on the boat, they were greeted by the Special Agent Afloat, Edith Levinson, whose light dirty blonde hair was tied back into a bun that accentuated her pale face and thin stature.

"What's the status on the vic?"

"She's in shock, and has been in sick bay since it happened."

"Name?"

"Anna Bates, Petty Officer First Class."

"Can we speak to her?" Matthew asked, and Grey looked over at him. He wondered if the Petty Officer was hot. He hoped she was.

"No. I don't think it's a good idea. She can barely remember it."

"How old is she?"

"Thirty-four."

"She have a boyfriend on board the ship?"

"Well…." Grey could see that Special Agent Levinson was uneasy about the situation.

"What?"

"Her husband is also aboard."

"Name?" Grey asked, before Matthew had a chance.

"Lieutenant John Bates."

"Does he have an alibi?"

"Yes. There was a performance going on that night… a sort of stress reliever if you will, and he was helping the Chief Petty Officer organize it."

"What's the name of your Chief Petty Officer, Agent Levinson?"

"Robert Crawley."

Grey saw Mary literally stiffen at the name. "You know him?" He asked, leaning in.

Mary nodded, her face pale. "He's my father." She replied, not meeting his eye.

"Oh?" Grey asked, feigning interest. But one thought was on his mind, and he grinned, unable to stop himself. Blackmail he thought.

A vicious slap to the back of the head brought him back to his sense. He flinched, and Matthew glared at him.

"Head out of the clouds, Grey. You're not here to party."

"Of course not boss." He replied, rubbing his head gingerly.

"You're doing the interviews of everyone and anyone who was a witness and talk to the doctor who treated her. What were the injuries?" With the last question, Matthew turned his gaze on Agent Levinson, who blushed… but not from nerves… no from attraction? Yes. Grey raised his eyebrow, but knew he would need further information from Levinson.

She cleared her throat. "The victim was not only sexually assaulted, but had bruises on her face, and a split lip. We also suspect she has a concussion due to head trauma during the assault."

Matthew was looking around, as Mary walked in, but he didn't notice. "I can't have Special Agent Crawley pushing in again like she generally does on investigations."

She cleared her throat. "Ahem." She said.

Matthew turned to Mary, who looked back, her eyes cool and unemotional. While she clearly disliked her boss, she had instantly gotten along with Larry from the moment they'd met. For reasons Larry couldn't understand, she and the boss had clashed instantly.

"Special Agent Crawley, I want you to interview the victim." He ordered.

She nodded. "Of course. I wouldn't want to push in on whatever you're doing."

"I'm going to be having a chat with Agent Levinson here." He replied, his voice icy. He turned to Grey, and asked (feigning surprise) "What are you still doing here Grey?"

Grey made himself scarce instantly, not wanting to get between whatever was going on between whatever was happening between Mary and the boss. He ran into an older man, and asked. "Who are you?"

The man, unruffled, with a twinkle in his light blue eyes. "Chief Petty Officer, Robert Crawley. And you?"

He pulled out his badge. "Special Agent Larry Grey, NCIS."

"Ah, you're an agent, I see." Was his cheerful reply.

"That is correct. I need a list of witnesses, people who heard what happened, and I need you to be able to verify a few facts for me."

CPO Crawley's face immediately softened. "This is about what happened to that poor girl, isn't it?"

Grey nodded. "Is it true that her husband was helping you organize the event?"

"Yes, it is true. He was with me all evening. Until he got the news."

"Can you give me the names of the people who found her?"

"Lieutenant Elsie Hughes was the one who found her, and she's being treated by Dr. David Clarkson in sick bay. I can have one of the officers take you there."

"One of our agents is already going to interview the victim. So Lt. Elsie Hughes and Dr. David Clarkson?"

"Yes."

"Were any officers not present at the performance?"

"Some had work that they simply couldn't get out of. Our cook was in the galley, and she didn't notice anything."

"No one heard the woman screaming?"

"No. I don't know who would do this. Petty Officer Bates was an excellent, hardworking woman, who was the soul of the ship."

"Was there anyone you knew of who would want to do her harm?"

"No one I can think of." Was the man's reply, and Grey could see he was telling the truth.

"Can you get me a list of the people on duty last night?"

"Certainly. Will that be all?"

"Yes."

"I will have…" CPO Crawley looked around, before snapping his fingers at a buxom blonde with large blue eyes. "Petty Officer MacClare."

She ran over, and Larry had to resist the opportunity- screw it. He looked down her shirt, and liked what he saw.

"Petty Officer MacClare will show you to the Lieutenant's quarters."

She nodded at the CPO, and led Grey down the hall. But about halfway down the hall, she turned to Grey, who was studying her butt. Perfectly sculpted, he noticed. She caught him staring and asked. "Like what you see?"

He decided to play mysterious. "I haven't decided yet." He replied mysteriously.

"Well I like what I see." She said, moving closer.

"I do believe that the CPO wouldn't approve." He said, stepping in.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him." She looked up, only inches away from him.

"We'll see." Grey murmured. He was enjoying himself now.

Maybe this trip wouldn't be so bad. He decided.

Mary

Nothing, in all of her years at Interpol would have prepared her for this. Working as a Navy cop. She had been a part of the Queen of England's security detail after all! She was not prepared for this. Moving to America had been her mother's idea, after breaking it off with her wealthy FBI fiancé, Richard. She was being led to sick bay by Petty Officer Ivy Stuart, but her mind was on Special Agent Matthew Crawley…. who seemed completely disinterested in her.

Two could play at that game.

"Here we are, Special Agent Crawley. Sick bay." The Petty Officer was waiting ahead for her, and Mary realized she'd stopped.

She walked inside, thanking Petty Officer Stuart, before turning to the three people in sick bay. One was an older gentleman, with gray hair, and bright blue eyes.

"I'm Special Agent Mary Crawley." She said, clearing her throat.

The man with gray hair cleared his throat, and offered a hesitant smile. "I'm Dr. David Clarkson."

"I was wondering if I could speak to the victim?" Mary posed it as a question, but the message her body language conveyed was that it was not an option.

"Certainly. She doesn't remember much of it." He replied quietly.

She turned to the other two people in the room. One was an older man, not as old as the doctor, but fairly up there in years. She guessed that he was around fifty. He had dark brown hair and soft brown eyes that were currently hardened in pain and rage. The other was a woman. A black eye darkened a beautiful face, where light blue eyes shone out of- but they'd lost whatever spark they'd held. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a bun, and she kept her head down.

"Are you here to interview my wife?" The man asked quietly, in pain.

"Yes." She said, standing a bit taller. "I'm Special Agent Mary Crawley. I'm with-."

"NCIS." The man said. He moved with a bit of a limp. His accent was soft, almost unnoticeable. "You're Robert Crawley's daughter."

"Yes." She said, surprised. "How did you know that?"

"He and I served together… years ago. When you and your sisters were small."

Mary simply nodded. "If you don't mind sir, I would like to interview your wife."

"Certainly." He said, moving over, and sitting down by the bed. He reached for his wife's hand. "Anna?"

She flinched away at his touch, her eyes opening wide, her head snapping up in fear. "Don't touch me!" She gasped. "I am spoiled. I can never be unspoiled."

"My love…" Bates was obviously pained in this encounter. "This Special Agent just wants to ask you a few questions."

The young woman was tense, tenser than she needed be. Her eyes darted around wildly, constantly seeking an unseen attacker.

"I'm Special Agent Mary Crawley, NCIS." Mary asked, trying to be gentle. She didn't want to push PO Bates any more than she had to. "What were you doing before your attack?"

"I was upstairs, watching the performance." The woman said quietly.

"Why did you leave?" She asked, watching the woman's reaction.

"I had a headache. I went to get some medication from my bunk."

"What time was this?"

"2103 last night." PO Bates whispered.

"And what happened when you got downstairs."

"Someone- I'm not sure who- tased me, and when I fell over, he grabbed my hair, and ripped my clothes off of me… then he- he-." The woman broke down sobbing, burying her head in her hands.

"Thank you, Petty Officer. I don't think I need to ask anything else." She stood up, nodding to Lt. Bates. He nodded back, but stood up, and followed her to the door of sick bay.

"Find out who did this, Special Agent Crawley." He said, his eyes hard.

"I will." She replied.

She turned to the doctor. "Dr. Clarkson, did you get a vaginal swab?"

"Yes."

"You understand we'll need to send it back to the lab for a DNA test?"

"Yes."

"The DNA should match, because… if he was on this ship, there's no doubt he's in the Navy. His DNA will be in his file."

"Of course." He handed her the test tube containing the swab.

"Thank you, Doctor."

He nodded. "I hope you do find out who it was."

"Of course." She said, slipping the test tube in her pocket, vowing to send it back to Sybil.

Tom

Tom was sitting in the bullpen, talking over the phone with the ME's assistant, William Mason, when he saw the director, Director Carson, walking down the stairs. He bid his goodbyes and hung up, as Carson walked into the bullpen.

"Is Special Agent Crawley still away?"

"On the USS Falcon, sir. You can talk to him in MTAC, I assume?" Tom knew it wasn't smart sassing the director, but he couldn't help it.

"Yes, Branson. But that's not what I asked." His eyes were sharp. "Is it?"

"No. No, sir it wasn't."

"Do you not have any work to do?"

"Why would you ask that, sir?"

"I had Gwen pull your search history. You've been on several writing sites." Branson bit his lip, nervously.

"Sir, you can't blame me." He protested. "You should see some of the sites that Grey goes on-."

"I know." He held up a hand, eager to stop Branson from continuing. "I wanted you to know that your boss is sending back work soon, and I want you down in the lab, helping out Miss Crawley. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir."

"As the most recent transfer from Norfolk, I assure you, it would be wise to do your job- and anticipate. Unless you'd rather not be a field agent."

"No sir, I love my job." He replied.

"Head down to the lab then." He said. And with that, Carson left. Once he was gone, Tom breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't mind heading down to the lab at all… but he didn't really know Sybil Crawley, their forensic scientist.

So when he arrived down at the lab, he was stunned to be greeted by a woman with startling blue eyes, and long dark hair swept into a ponytail. She was tall, and her lab coat dwarfed her.

"Hello Branson." She said, barely even showing any emotions.

"Hello." He replied cautiously. "You can call me Tom."

A man walked in. "I have some DNA sent from the ship."

She grinned. "Excellent! This is what I love about this job- fibers, hairs, DNA… I get all the fun work!"

Tom grinned. "This is my first official case as a field agent."

"Which means you got to help me. My sister had to do the same thing."

"Your sister?" He asked, confused.

"Mary." She replied, grinning at him, eyebrows raised.

"Oh… Oh!" He smacked a palm to his forehead. "I should have seen the resemblance."

"Yeah."

"Grey called me, said your dad was CPO on the USS Falcon." She looked at him, surprised. Then she grinned and nodded.

"Yep. He's always away. That's why Mary and I were raised by our grandmother and our dad's sister."

"Not your mother?"

"She's dead." Sybil said with a sad smile. "Died when I was born."

"I see. I'm sorry to hear it."

"Thank you." She said, as her computer dinged. She seemed to remember she had work to do. "Would you be an angel, and check my email?"

"Okay." He said, walking to the computer, as she put the DNA into the system, to look for a match. He watched in awe, as she looked through search parameters.

"What's the email?" She asked.

"It's from Special Agent Crawley."

"Matthew or Mary?"

"You get away with calling him Matthew?" Tom was surprised.

She put her hands on her hips. "I'm the one he likes." She grinned. "Didn't you know that?"

"No. It's a list of names of the crew members on the USS Falcon."

"That'll help narrow down the search parameters." She replied. "Do me a favor?"

"Sure." He replied, startled that she was already asking him favors, having known him only a few days.

"Can you got get me an iced tea? There's a machine that makes the best ones in the world..." She blushed, sheepish. "I'm rather an addict, it's my English blood."

He grinned back. "Sure."

"And I'm not asking out of wanting a man to do favors for me. I'm asking because Matthew will kill me if I don't get it done."

"It sounds as if you support women's rights." He replied.

She grinned back. "I suppose I do." She said back, staring at him with her intense blue eyes.

"Because I'm quite political myself." He replied.

"Really?" She asked, surprised. "It seems unlikely. A revolutionary NCIS agent."

"Maybe. But I'm a Socialist, not a revolutionary. And I won't always be an NCIS agent."

She smiled. "My tea please." She said, allowing herself to slip into a high-class British accent that she clearly had fought from the moment she'd arrived in America.

He left, and by the time he returned with the bottle of iced tea, she was cartwheeling around the room, eagerly waiting for the results. "Come on, come on, my babies, work faster!" She was begging the DNA registry.

He couldn't help but smile. And as he stared at her, he said. "Milady."

She didn't turn around. "Mr. Branson, how kind of you." She finally accepted the tea as he set it down next to her.

"You're welcome… milady." He murmured.

Together, they waited for the results.

Levinson

Edith was starstruck with the handsome agent from Washington. Matthew Crawley that was his name. He was questioning about the events of the previous night.

"DO you know of any enemies that PO Bates might have had?"

"No, as far as I know, she was well-liked."

"No one had any grudges against her?"

"No." Edith was confused. Why was he asking about grudges?

"What about Lt. Bates? Would anyone have a grudge against him?"

This time, she hesitated. "There is one person. But she's dead."

"Who?" He asked.

She stuttered. "Sir, she's- she's dead, it doesn't matter."

"It does. Who?!" He demanded, and she was taken aback by his curiously unfeeling manner.

"Vera Bates… his ex-wife. Tried to frame him for her suicide a few years ago. She's dead, and he was proved innocent."

"I see.." he trailed off.

There was a knock on the door to the office. Edith stood up, as the door flew open. It was Agent… she couldn't remember his name.

"Grey, what are you doing here? I told you to report back when you had something!"

"I do have something, actually, boss." He replied, grinning. "I've been wondering about how about we unpack the UV lights and see if we can find traces of blood at the scene?"

"Why?"

"Because." Agent Levinson was shocked to see that behind Larry was Agent Crawley. The female agent of course.

Matthew immediately stood up. "Special Agent Crawley, I want to apologize for earlier, I was only joking."

"Of course." She replied coolly. "I agree. This whole thing is a complete joke."

Edith almost winced at the barbed words.

"So why do we need the UV lights?" he demanded of Special Agent Grey.

"Not only was her lip bleeding pretty badly, but she also had stiches in her scalp. Head wounds are notorious for bleeding." Edith said, contributing. She offered a smile at Matthew, but he was unruffled. "I'll take you to the crime scene. It was the boiler room."

He nodded. She watched as the glittering blue eyes became distressed. He seemed concerned. He reluctantly got up, and the three agents followed her down the halls and through the bulkheads down to the boiler room, and as they unpacked their gear, she couldn't help but wonder why she had such distaste for Mary Crawley.

It was the fact that she was jealous, Edith knew that. Knew that she couldn't. As they finished, Matthew handed her a pair of glasses. Their hands connected, and she blushed at his skin brushing against hers. But the moment was short lived, as he turned to hand a pair to Mary. Thankfully for Edith, Mary glared at him the entire time.

"Grey. Get the lights." He ordered, waving the UV light wands over the room. As the lights went off, a story of horror was instantly revealed to them. And then as Matthew, Grey, and Mary walked around the room, more of the story was told. Not only was blood found in one particular section, but also-.

"Semen." Matthew murmured, bending down.

But Grey was staring at another image of horror. "Boss!" He called.

Edith turned to look, and saw the message written in the wall, in poor Anna's spilt blood.

Hello Matthew. This is a warning: anthrax.

Find it or else. –T.B. and N.

Hint: cold air.

"Oh my God." He said, immediately turning to Edith. "Find the Skipper- now!" He barked.

Edith ran out of the room, and up to the bridge, knowing that anthrax was quite possibly the worst thing to happen on a ship.

"Skipper!" She cried, bursting into the main control room. Her hair was down, and she was out of breath from the running, but she gasped out. "Anthrax. Anthrax threat." Regaining her breath, she called out. "We have to evacuate the ship."

He turned, and started barking orders. "Shut down the air conditioning and prepare the lifeboats and choppers for possible evacuation."

One of the Petty Officers nodded, and they were all working.

Edith ran back downstairs, where she found Matthew pacing back and forth in the boiler room.

"Is there anyone with the initials T.B. on your ship?" He asked angrily.

"No." She said, shaking her head, mentally going over the crew lists. "No one."

"Damn it." He murmured.

Mary looked concerned. The sound of chopper blades whirring many decks above theirs gave it away. Something big was up.

"Who's T.B.?" Edith asked, concerned.

"I can't say. I really can't." he replied sharply.

Matthew's phone rang, and he immediately answered. "Crawley."

He seemed intensely focused on the conversation, turning away from them. His words were short, his answers sharp. He finally hung up. "That was Sybil. She got us a match on the DNA."

"She did?" Edith was amazed. "Was it the husband?"

"No. It was a Petty Officer, Nigel Green."

"Green?" She asked, surprised. "But he seemed so charming?"

"Looks can be deceiving."

"We have to tell the Chief Petty Officer. Or the skipper." Matthew said. But then the Chief Petty Officer ran in, interrupting their thoughts.

"Special Agent Crawley, the third helicopter is waiting topside for you."

"The third one? Who was on the first two?" Edith demanded.

It was the answer they all dreaded. "Anna and John Bates were on the first. Several Petty Officers were on the second."

"I want names." He demanded.

"Petty Officers Gillingham, Blake and Green."

"Are you aware you just let a rapist get away?" Matthew asked angrily.

"No, I was unaware." He said, in shock. "Who-?"

"Petty Officer Green."

"I'll radio the helicopter. Meanwhile, I want all of you to get on the next chopper. Including you, Special Agent Levinson."

Edith was shocked at the warmth, not even masked at the urgency of his voice, when he spoke to her. But she nodded, following Matthew, and his team to the deck, where they all climbed onto the helicopter. As they flew away from the ship, Edith prayed.

Sybil

She was more than a little tired, and it was late. But she knew they'd be arriving back from Norfolk any minute. That was why Sybil was waiting in the bullpen, along with Tom, who was reading aloud from his book that he was working on.

They were greeted by Larry. "Probie, did you miss me?" he asked, running in. "I didn't miss you."

"Nice to see you too, Larry." Branson grumbled.

"Larry!" Sybil cried, hugging him, grinning. "I heard about the anthrax. Are you okay, is Matthew okay? What about Mary?"

"Easy there." He grinned back. "We're all good. Well, I mean, Matthew is grumpy, but that's normal right?"

Sybil didn't continue, she merely raised her eyebrows at Larry, who sighed.

"He's right behind me, isn't he?"

"He is." Matthew said, before delivering another vicious whack to the back of Larry's head. Sybil couldn't help but giggle.

"Do you have any more information about our rapist, Nigel Green?" Matthew asked. "He officially went on the run, so we have a fugitive situation here."

"Put 'er up on the plasma, Tom!" She called out, and with a click of the mouse (and the muscles contracting) Tom did as she asked.

"Nigel Harmen Green, born in 1984, enlisted in '01, 13 years ago. No outstanding problems, not even a speeding ticket. Born and raised in Downton, Yorkshire, England, moved to the US when he was seventeen. Has US citizenship. No family, no wife, nothing."

"He seemed to stay below the radar."

"Or he never got caught." Matthew said, staring at the plasma.

"Or he never got caught." Mary agreed.

Sybil was surprised. It seemed like her sister and her boss never got along, no matter what the circumstances. Personally, she thought she could see them together, but she knew Matthew's rules. Never date a co-worker, was number 12 on that list of rules.

"What about the two others who were on the chopper with him?" Matthew asks.

"Petty Officer Charles Blake- he's clean. And Petty Officer Anthony Gillingham. Who as we learned, happened to have enlisted with Green." Tom said, glancing up at the plasma.

"Does that make him a potential suspect as an accessory to rape and being on the lam?" Grey asked.

"No it just makes him screwed. Crawley, get him into interrogation now. Grey, get a BOLO out on Green."

His phone rang, just as he picked it up, and Grey answered it. "Very Special Agent Grey."

He hung up. "Boss, I don't think that BOLO will be necessary."

"Why not?" Matthew asked, concerned, Sybil could see it in his eyes.

"They just found his body."