Disclaimer: NCIS does not belong to me, neither does the characters. They are the creation of the ever brilliant Donold P. Bellisario and Don McGill. If the show were mine, I would use the mustang as company car... hohoho...


Chapter 2

"You know," the teen said, lying on the mattress, stared at the ceiling of his cell in the precinct. He continued after not receiving any response, "no matter how hard you stare, I'm not gonna disappear. I ain't David Copperfield, Agent Gibbs." The agent in question shifted his position outside the cell bars, thinking to himself, pondering the actions of the youth. The teenager in the cell had propped his legs up; the angular position of them made the kid looked even skinner. The youth looked relaxed, but the trained agent could recognise the anxiety through the jiggling of the legs and fisted hand under the kid's head. Gibbs thought he could figure anyone out, but this street kid was confusing him. At first glance, the street kid was just a street kid. But throughout the interrogation, the agent knew that the kid was more than what he seemed.

"Why are you on the streets DiNozzo?" the older man asked in a sign. The hazel eyes' attention shifted from the ceiling to the man who asked that question. Gibbs was surprised at the youth's aged eyes as DiNozzo answered in a near whisper "as if I wanted to be on the streets." The youth shifted his attention back to the ceiling before his eyes betrayed his emotion. DiNozzo's poker face was back on when he said in a matter of fact tone "my father kicked me out when I was twelve." Gibbs frowned at the revelation.

Gibbs wanted to change his opinion on the kid, but he had to remind himself that he was talking to a murder suspect, not a lost child. "Why the streets?" the agent continued asking, disbelieve at such a young and brilliant kid had to live on the streets. Swiftly sitting up, the youth looked at the agent and asked "what was I supposed to do? Report myself missing?" the tone was hard and angry. Hearing a shuffling behind him, the agent looked behind and saw a precinct officer, followed by McGee. "Ah, Officer Johnny Walker" the teen's tone switched to playful. The agent looked back at the teen and saw the confident swagger that the teen had taken to adopt to portray ease, as he walked towards to cell bars. DiNozzo looked at the younger agent standing next to Gibbs and said excitedly "his name is really Johnny Walker" as he grabbed the bars. "Ain't that right, officer?" said the kid poking his face between the bar whist addressing the officer in blue.

"It's Nathan" said the officer with a frown. The man looked to be in his early thirties and supporting a thick moustache. DiNozzo didn't let up, continuing "yah, but that's short for Jonathan. Right?" Officer Walker rolled his eyes as he settled into his guarding stance. McGee spoke to the senior agent, "DA is charging and he is to be brought to state prison." At that, the older agent frowned and walked out of the room. McGee shifted on his feet as he pondered whether to follow his superior. Then his ingrained training brought him to the precinct lieutenant's room.

"He's seventeen." McGee caught the last bit of his boss' demand as he walked into the room. Ziva was already there, leaning on the wall, arms and legs crossed. She looked relaxed, but McGee knew that if push came to shove, she would leap into action with a blink of an eye. Gibbs stood in a firm stance with his hands pressed on the lieutenant's desk. The lieutenant, Frank Gazelle was a pot bellied man supporting a cigar, as he tried to ignore the heated situation. "DA's charging him as an adult" he stated. The senior agent asked again "doesn't he get a lawyer?" Lieutenant Gazelle answered with a puff of his cigar and shrugged "didn't ask for one." Gibbs looked down frowning, his gut knew something was wrong, but he could not place what it was. "Doesn't he get a councillor?" the voice leads the two older men to look at McGee. The younger agent shifted on his feet, uncomfortable at the twin glare. Gibbs' training taught him to tough it out as he voiced his opinion further, "he is a minor after all."

Lieutenant Gazelle looked at the young agent incredulously "he's seventeen, not seven." The pot bellied man puffed his cigar and placed it on his cigar holder. He raked his hair through his thinning white hair and signed "look, he confessed. He didn't ask for a lawyer." The lieutenant look straight into the eyes of the senior agent opposite him and continued "his testimony fits the ME's report." Before he could continue, Ziva intercepted "preliminary report." Sparing a glance to the female agent, the lieutenant chose to ignore the statement "also, the kid had and always have been a pain in the ass." The lieutenant leaned back and picked up his cigar, took a drag and huffed out "causing trouble for my officers."

The room was silent whist they waited for the senior agent to respond. "He's going to federal prison" stated Gibbs as a fact. The lieutenant twitched an eyebrow and retorted "bring that up with the DA." Gibbs frowned and demanded "contact details." The lieutenant nonchalantly shuffle through his cardholder whist mumbling through the cigar "ADA Lisa Connelly" and held a card to the impatient agent. As Gibbs took the card, the lieutenant held on to the card, obtaining the senior agent's attention. "Good luck contacting her, she's a busy girl" he smirked as he let go of the card. The agents shifted to move out of the room, the lieutenant puffed his cigar and offered "the kid stays here until it's all sorted, ok?" The senior agent stomped out of the room, seemingly ignoring the sergeant.

~N~C~I~S~

"Call her again" Gibbs demanded as the federal issued sedan swerved through the traffic. "But, boss" McGee did not have a chance to finish his sentence as a sudden movement of the car nearly caused him to lose the phone in his hands. Glancing at the rear-view mirror, he caught sight of his superior's glare from the driver's seat. "Calling again, boss" stated McGee as he started to dial for the ADA for the fifth time. At the same time, Ziva picked up a chirp on her mobile and reported to her colleagues as to whom the caller was "it's Ducky." Gibbs nodded for Ziva to receive the call as he turned the wheel to change onto another lane on the highway; receiving a honk from a car left behind.

"Ducky" Gibbs' firm tone informed the ME to report. "Ah! Jethro, Abigail is with me" the elderly man informed the agents as the shrill voice of their forensic specialist rang through "hey boss-man! How's Baltimore?" McGee answered gloomily "miserable and cold," as he ended his call to the ADA's answering machine for the fifth time. At the same time, McGee clutched desperately to the roof handle at a particular horrifying car stunt pulled by his superior. "What have you got for us?" asked Ziva plainly, McGee thought internally 'trust the ninja to remain calm in this rollercoaster ride'. After a slight shuffling heard through the speaker of the phone, the duo on the other side of the phone decided to let the Goth speak first "well, petty officer Bradley isn't as squeaky as we thought." Ziva frowned at the term and asked "squeaky? Was he a mouse?" McGee offered an explanation "squeaky clean, means he's dirty." The young agent seated at the back paused to quench a particular bout of nausea as Gibbs swerved to overtake a truck "and I think you meant a rat, not mouse."

"Abs," Gibbs ordered, bringing attention back to the forensic specialist. "Gibbs, Ducky had to bring me my caf-pow today. When you coming back? Are you going to bring me something from Baltimore? Better not be a pen, or a baseball cap Timmy." the Goth rambled on, possibly due to her x number of caffeinated drink. Gibbs grinned slightly before stopping the excited Goth "Abs, what have you got?" The Goth muttered "oh, right, Bradley. I tested his blood and found traces of narcotics. Also Ducky found the lining of his nostrils to be inflamed, possibly coke boss." Nodding as the trio in the car listened to the report.

"Also, I found something interesting with the stab wound" the Englishman intercepted before Abby had the chance to go on. "This reminds me of a case I heard from my friend in Leicester. He found" and before he had the chance to fully recount his story, the senior agent demanded "Ducky." The elderly man noted "oh right." A slight shuffling was heard before the coroner spoke again, sounding to be further from the phone "originally, when I examined the stab wound, I found it to be in the lower left abdomen of the victim. This coincides with being stabbed from the front by a right handed person." Pausing as the medical examiner shuffled, the trio on the other side of the phone could only guess that the elderly man had moved around the body as he tended to do. "However, when I re-examined the skin around the stab wound when I got the body here, the bruising caused by the hilt indicated something different from my initial examination. So I got Mr. Palmer to cast the wound site and it seemed to prove my hypothesis."

Impatient as he was, Gibbs hurried the medical examiner's methodical explanations "Ducky. What did you find?" The trio heard a visible sign as the ME seemed to be discontented to be rushed to revelation "well, my examination showed that our petty officer was stabbed from the back by a left-handed person, instead of from the front by a right handed person." The trio in the car immediately picked up on the clue and looked at each other. "That means" McGee stated, "the teenager was wrong" Ziva finished. Before they had a chance to say anything else, the driver pulled the car to a 180 degree turn and sped back to the precinct.


A/N: The whole thing about Tony being transferred to federal prison or normal prison and all those thing, I'm not sure whether it is true. This is because (judging from L&O), the state charges a suspect at first. Then throughout the trial, the suspect could then be brought with federal charges and stuff... That's why in real life, a case taken through the court could take years. That is what I understood from the various shows I've watched... So any lawyers out there could correct me if I'm wrong.