Disclaimer: I've checked EVERYWHERE- it turns out, I really don't own anything related to NCIS. Go figure!

Chapter 2, Part 1: Greed.

AN: I want to apologise to everyone who read (and enjoyed) the first chapter of this fanfic. I am really sorry for not updating sooner. I promise to add the rest of this chapter soon (there will probably be two more parts to it). Since I've decided on the case (and who-dunnit!) I think the writing will be a lot faster.

Once again, I'm really sorry.

As always, comments are welcome, along with suggestions and criticism (it helps me develop my style).

Enjoy!


"Be careful with that equipment, Mr. Palmer." Dr. Mallard said for the fifth time, as his young assistant stumbled, once again, on a wayward piece of furniture.

The living room was a mess. So was the hall. In fact, the entire ground floor of the two-storey suburban house was in ruins. There were broken furniture and broken glass everywhere. But this wasn't what had sickened the first officer on the scene. No, what had shocked him to his very core was the blood. Blood everywhere- smeared on the walls, dripped on the wooden floors and pooled on the carpets.

Who would have thought that the old man would have so much blood in him? The Shakespearean quote came unbidden to Dukkie, as he bent over the retired naval commander. The poor man had indeed taken quite a beating- if that was the word for it. Bludgeoning was more like it. He took the thermometer from Palmer, and hunkered down: "Now Commander, it's time for you to tell us when you died."


Outside, Agent Jethro Gibbs was talking to the two police officers who had responded to the 911 call of the deceased's wife- well, one of them anyway. The younger of the two was bent double, retching into the bushes. His superior eyed him with an expression of pity mixed with distaste.

"It's his first murder case." Officer Jacobs said to the NCIS agent, as though trying to excuse the lack of professionalism of the young officer.

Agent Gibbs nodded with a faint smile: he knew what it was like working with probies. Hell, he'd been one himself.

"So, what can you tell me, Officer?"

"The wife's inside," the cop began, "She found her husband when she got back for New York this morning. She's…eh, quite upset." He paused for a moment, remembering with embarrassment his inability to deal with her hysterics. Upset was definitely an understatement. Distraught was probably more like it. But then, who could blame her, given the condition she had found her husband in? Gibbs had sent Kate to calm her down.

"Anyway, she put in an 911 call to us as soon as she found him. And then when I got here, I realised that you had jurisdiction."

Gibbs knew the way things worked, and he was curious to find out why the police were eager to get rid of the case. "Any particular reason that you guys are handing this case over to us?"

The cop leaned slightly closer, and lowered his voice: "Just between you and me, we've got enough on our plate without this kind of thing," he gestured towards the house behind him, "It's the kind of case the press'll be all over. Frankly, we just don't need that. Nothing worse than a bunch of hacks thinking they know how to catch a murderer better than the police do!" He laughed at his joke.

Gibbs nodded, dryly thinking that the press was hardly likely to spare NCIS, and that all the police were doing was passing the buck.

"Besides, it's not like you guys at NCIS are all that busy anyway. We figured you'd be glad of the chance to get out into the field."

Gibbs kept his temper with difficulty. He doubted that anyone outside the Agency had any idea of what he, and the rest of the agents, actually did. They seemed to imagine that they spent their time investigating frauds and compiling evidence for court marshals, instead of investigating murders- which is all he seemed to be doing these days.

"Thanks officer, we'll take it from here." He turned to go into the house, but before he could get inside, Tony had come rushing out. He crashed into his boss, nearly sending his coffee flying. Gibbs righted himself, and glared at his subordinate.

"DiNozzo, you'd better have a good reason for charging around like an elephant." He snapped.

"Sorry boss," he apologised, and then remembered how much Gibbs disliked apologies: he hurried on, "I just got off the phone with the Director."

"Why the hell is the Director calling you?"

"He said you weren't answering your cell. Maybe the ringer-thing was off." Tony added helpfully.

Gibbs gave him a look that dared him to continue.

"Ok. It's not important. Anyway, we're not the only ones that the cops called." He paused for effect.

"Any time this century, DiNozzo."

"The Director told me that they're already on their way. Boss, they called-"

"The FBI." Gibbs finished as he watched three of their trademark black cars screech to a halt in the drive. He turned to the younger agent, "DiNozzo, find out what Dukkie's estimate for the TOD is- and let him know that we've got company. Tell Kate to get out here and update me on the situation with the wife. Then I want you to start processing the living room- bag and tag as much as you can."

"What are you gonna do?" he asked his boss curiously.

"I'm gonna keep the Feds out of our crime scene." Tony paused to watch the approach of the agents. "I mean now, DiNozzo."

"On it, boss." Said Tony as he rushed inside.


Kate made her excuses to the newly widowed woman and left her in McGee's care.

The first thing she heard as she stepped outside were two familiar voices raised in argument.

"I don't care who you got your orders from. This is an NCIS crime scene. So you're gonna have to tell your boss that this is our case, and that we're not leaving." Gibbs was saying angrily.

The taller man spoke authoritatively, "I've heard about you, Agent Gibbs. I know that you're good at what you do. But so am I. We don't want to take over the case- we're going to work it together. If you don't like it- take it up with your Director. You have your orders. I have mine."

Gibbs felt a grudging respect for the FBI agent. As a general rule, he hated feds. But this agent hadn't backed down: he'd stood his ground. And he didn't want complete control of the case. He was offering a partnership. He regarded him, considering his offer, but the FBI agent wasn't looking at him: his gaze went over his shoulder to someone standing in front of the older man, an expression of amusement on his face.

Gibbs turned to see what he was looking at: it was Agent Kate Todd.

She was walking forward, an amazed smile on her face. "Greg Adams. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Did you miss me Katie?"

She rolled her eyes as she reached him, "Well, you haven't changed a bit."

"You'd be disappointed if I did."

Her smile widened: he was right. It was one of the things she'd always loved about him. "Are you on the case?"

Agent Adams' eyes went to Gibbs who was regarding them in silence, a close expression on his face. He nodded faintly. There was nothing else he could do.

"Yes, I think I am." Greg grinned at Kate.


"I told you Tony," she said, yet again, as they rode back to NCIS in Gibbs' car. "I know him from when we worked in the Secret Service together."

"Sure Kate, I believe you. Because he was definitely looking at you like you used to be a…colleague." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and then yet out a yelp as Kate smacked him on the arm.

Gibbs said nothing, and kept driving.


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