Author's Note: This kinda of long-ish, but the next one I a bit short (if I remember correctly!), so if your eyes get a little sore (XP), remember it won't always be like this! Or maybe you like long? Who knows…

Disclaimer: -shoves the NCIS cast into her closest and closes the door before turning to face everyone- Don't look at me like that. They're mine, all mine. Well... I'm borrowing them. But I'm giving them back. Sometime. Eventually. LOOK, I DIDN'T STEAL THEM, OKAY?!

I love all my reviewers! Thank you guys so much; I can't believe I got so many reviews for one chapter! Y'all are amazing! :D


"The Communist"

Part Two

As soon as Gibbs barked the order to go, the five other people in the room literally jump-started, racing off in all different directions: McGee headed for the stairs that would lead to the director's office; Ziva and Ducky both headed for the elevators; and Tony and Abby both stood still, looking thoughtful.

The race between Ziva and Ducky to get to the elevator first might have been bad, but just then Tony called out: "No, wait! Ducky! Could you come back here?" He took a hesitant step forward, and Ducky stopped to look back at him. Ziva continued on to the elevator.

"I need to talk to you," Tony said pleadingly. Ducky gave a long sigh and looked in the direction of the elevator doors, but then he nodded.

"All right," the elderly doctor said, "come along with me." The two went off together where they couldn't be overhead or spied on.

Abby watched everyone disappear, wondering around idly in her own thoughts; she watched Gibbs watch everyone go, and then sit back down at his desk to wait. She tried to concentrate on her clue.

Find the one person in the building smarter than special agent Gibbs.

"Shoot," Abby muttered. How unhelpful was a clue like that? Smarter how? She and McGee were both better with technology and computers; Ducky knew more about the anatomy and the human mind; Ziva was scary-good at inflicting pain and violence, especially in interrogations; Director Sheppard was the closest thing he had to a boss—"But does that make her smarter?" Abby murmured quietly—and Tony was…well, Tony…

Really, though, none of them—herself included—really compared to Gibbs. This really sucks, Abby thought. She didn't think she could solve her clue. Was anyone really smarter than Gibbs?

But wait…

"Oh!" Abby gasped as a thought occurred to her. Maybe, she thought, just maybe. She turned around and ran back the way she'd come. "Gibbs!" she said in a whisper-scream, sliding to a standstill in front of his desk.

"Hello, Abby," he said casually, looking up at her without blinking. "What can I do for you?"

The gothic scientist was breathing heavy from excitement. She looked over both shoulders to make sure no one was around that might be listening, then whirled around. "My clue—'find the one person smarter than agent Gibbs'," she began, talking quickly. "Well, I was thinking about it, and I was kind of wondering if there was anyone here actually smarter than you. You know, like maybe the clue was just saying there was someone to throw me off, but really the answer was you, that you were the only person smarter than you—what?"

He was laughing at her.

"Good work, Abbs," he said, still smiling slightly. He reached into his desk drawer and handed her a folded piece of paper. One look at it and Abby could tell she had the paper that allowed her to blacklist any one person in the game.

"Woah." She looked down at the paper in her hands and then looked up at Gibbs. "So that really was the answer, then? That no one's smarter than special agent Gibbs…" Abby shook her head in disbelief, pocketing the paper. "Big-headed, much?"

Gibbs just smiled.

-o0o-

Safely alone in the elevator, Ziva ran through her clue one more time in her head: to help find the red, pay a visit to the dead. She knew that a "red" was another name for the communist, but was that all it meant? Perhaps the communist was wearing red… As this thought occurred to her, she immediately tore off the red jacket she'd been wearing overtop her shirt.

"I would not want to be mistaken for a communist," she murmured to herself. She balled the jacket up and planned to hide it somewhere in autopsy when she got there until the game ended. So, the communist may or may not be wearing red; and after that, the rest of the clue was relatively easy—pay a visit to the dead had to mean the autopsy room. The clue must be there.

The elevator doors made a slight ding! sound and opened, and Ziva stepped out. She had been assuming that it would be empty, with Ducky upstairs, but she hadn't realized Jimmy Palmer, Ducky's assistant, had yet to go home.

"Jimmy," Ziva said breathlessly, surprised. "I did not realize you were still here."

The young man looked up from whatever he'd been doing and smiled. "Yeah, I'm still here. No real reason to stay, but no real reason to go home either. Can I help you with something? Dr. Mallard's upstairs, if you—"

"No, no, I am perfectly aware of where Ducky is," Ziva interrupted. "And as a matter of fact, I could use your help. Gibbs has all of us…looking for something. I think it is down here. Would you know where it would be?"

Jimmy looked all around him. "What are we looking for?"

"A piece of paper, with a name on it, I think." Ziva scanned all four of the walls to make sure it wasn't taped somewhere in plain sight, where no one might look. They were all bare. She took a step farther inside the room, looking all about her helplessly.

"Would it be this piece of paper, maybe?" Jimmy reached down into the pocket of his lab coat and pulled it out of his pocket, waving it in the air tauntingly.

Ziva raced over to him. "Did Gibbs give you that? For the game?"

"Yep," Jimmy said.

"Well, hand it over, then." He raised his eyebrows at her, and Ziva added, "Please?" Smiling, Jimmy placed into her hand.

"You got sooooo lucky, finding this first." He laughed.

Ziva smirked. "I know. Because now I know who the communist is." She pocketed the paper and started to leave, but an afterthought stopped her. "Jimmy, can I hide this down here so no one sees I have it?" She held up her red jacket.

"Sure. Just put it…er, over there with my stuff. So everyone will think it's mine if they come in. I hope it doesn't look too feminine for that…." He eyed the jacket warily as Ziva threw it down and promised to be back for it later.

"Thanks. Oh!" she said, another thought popping into her mind making her pause and turn back around; "and if anyone else comes down here looking for something, please do not tell them I found the paper or that you had it, okay? Please?"

Jimmy nodded willingly. "No problem. I won't tell a soul."

"Thank you so much!" With a final smile, Ziva left and headed back up. Once more in the safety of the elevator, she pulled out the paper and read it. She wasn't surprised by the name; but she decided she'd keep this to herself, and just make sure she wasn't in an alliance with the communist.

On her way out of the elevator, she met Tony and Ducky getting ready to get in. They looked suspiciously at each other, and then Tony asked, "Did you find anything?"

Ziva shook her head and sighed as if she were very disappointed. "No," she lied, "this is so frustrating!"

-o0o-

McGee hated his clue. It didn't make any sense at all! Find the one person in the building smarter than special agent Gibbs. What the heck did that mean—who was he supposed to be looking for? He couldn't think of anyone just by thinking about who was smarter than Gibbs, so he tried to think about it scientifically: it couldn't be anyone in the game; they wouldn't have the clue. But everyone but Gibbs was in the game, and he couldn't be smarter than himself.

Wait a minute! The director wasn't in the game! McGee didn't stop to think whether or not she was smarter than Gibbs, only ran off towards her office. "Director!" he called out, knocking on her door.

"McGee?" Jen Sheppard opened the door to office and let him in, looking surprised. "What is it?"

McGee looked all around her office, but didn't dare actually search. He didn't see anything immediately, but he supposed something could be hidden under something. Or maybe the director had it. He turned to face her. "Did Gibbs give you anything earlier? Like a piece of paper?"

"No, I don't think so," Jen answered slowly. "Why, what's this about?"

"A game… Gibbs is making us play a game. I thought maybe you had the clue," McGee said, shifting awkwardly. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all. The director just looked at him strangely. McGee continued, "Did he ask permission to hide something in here, maybe?"

Jen gave him a small smile. "Do you really think he would ask permission if he had?"

"Good point." McGee looked all around him again, more out of a reflex than actually looking for something. "So can I look for it in your office?"

The director's smile grew bigger. "I don't think so, agent McGee. I really don't think your paper is in here, I'm sorry. What even made you think it was in here?"

"There was a clue on my paper."

"What does it say?"

McGee cleared his throat uncomfortably; he wasn't actually sure what made him feel so embarrassed, but right now he just wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible. "Find the one person in the building smarter than Gibbs."

Jen laughed and McGee started to relax a little. "And you thought of me? I'm flattered, McGee. But if that's what the clue really says, then I'm positive your clue isn't here."

-o0o-

"CONGRATULATIONS, YOU ARE NOT A COMMUNIST."

Tony wished more than anything he still had that little slip of paper Gibbs had handed him, just so he could rip it to shreds. What sort of lame "clue" was that?! Gibbs had said some papers had helpful clues and others didn't…but that was a load of crap. What good could he do with that? So he wasn't a commie; big deal! He knew that when he saw "AMERICAN" written on his paper…

The only thing he could hope to do is pair up with someone and work out their clue. But who to team up with? Any one of the other four could be the communist…and he didn't want to associate with them. He soon realized he had no choice, however, and so on a whim he called out to Ducky—if he was lucky, he'd be an American, and Ducky would believe him when he said he was one as well.

Ducky turned away from the elevator and they walked off a bit on their own. "What can I do for you, Anthony?" the elderly doctor asked.

"I…want to help you figure out your clue. If you're an American, I mean," Tony said.

"I most certainly am an American. How can I be sure you're one?"

"Ducky, I didn't have a clue on my paper. That's why I'm doing this—why else would I team up with a potential commie? But I have no choice; all my paper said was 'congratulations, you are not a communist'." Tony's brows furrowed and he kicked at the air moodily.

He was well aware of the older man study him, analyzing his body language and movement. Surely Ducky would be able to see he was telling the truth? He would let him work with him, he had to—or else Tony was screwed.

After a long moment, Ducky sighed. "Well…all right," he said, and Tony brightened. "I suppose you can take a look at my clue. It's fairly easy, however; 'to help find the red, pay a visit to the dead'."

"The autopsy room," Tony said automatically.

Ducky nodded. "Exactly right. But I think there's more that can be taken from that clue—for example, 'help find the red'. A red is a communist, but could it not mean something else?"

"Like what?"

"Gibbs said he'd picked out who was to be the communist for a certain reason. Maybe he picked someone literally wearing red today." Neither of the men acknowledged it, but they both scanned the other as quickly as possible.

"Great idea!" Tony said once it had been established neither were donning any red clothing. "Let's go see what everyone's wearing," he suggested, and the two of them went back they way they'd come. Ziva was already long gone, but Abby was musing alone in a corner. Her attire was the gothic style she normally wore; but nothing was red.

"Ah," Ducky whispered, and pointed something out to Tony. "Timothy's tie." DiNizzo looked over to where McGee was just knocking on the director's office. Before he went in, they saw his dark red tie.

Tony and Ducky exchanged looks. "It's possible," Tony said.

"Well, let's definitely remember that. Shall we go down to the autopsy room now?"

"Right behind you." Tony followed Ducky to the elevators, where they met Ziva just coming up—Tony looked her up and down and saw she wasn't wearing red either. She also said she hadn't found anything, which gave them hope—maybe whatever they were looking for down there was still there.

They exited the elevators and Ducky greeted his assistant with, "Mr. Palmer, Tony and I are looking for a paper and we believe it to be down here. Can you help us?"

Jimmy looked up once and met his gaze, then carefully lowered his gaze, feigning preoccupation. "I'm sorry, doctor, but I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "I don't know where any paper is."

"Did Ziva come down here?" Tony asked him.

Jimmy held their gazes this time. "Yeah, she was. She was looking for a paper, too, but she couldn't find it. I don't think it's down here, sorry."

"But it has to be!" Tony protested.

Jimmy shrugged. "Just look around for it, that's probably the best you can do. Good luck," he said, and went back to work.

"We only have a few minutes," Ducky said, with a quick glance at the wall clock. Their hour was almost up, and soon they would have to be back upstairs to form an alliance. "We'll search quickly."

They looked all around and under the tables of the room; Tony searched all the corners where a small piece of paper could be taped, and Ducky went through all the drawers in the desks. They found nothing.

"This is hopeless," Tony said, "we'll never find it in time now." He ran a hand through his hair and blew through his lips. "I give up."

"Giving up is never the thing to do," Ducky disagreed, "but in this case we'll have to make an exception. Our hour is up; we have to get back up to Gibbs now."

"Sorry you didn't have more luck, Dr. Mallard," Jimmy said sincerely, standing off to the side near his own bags and jacket. "Good luck with your alliance!" They nodded their heads in agreement and left.

"DiNizzo!" Gibbs barked before the two could even get out of the elevator; Tony cringed. "Glad you could finally join us." Peering past him, Tony could see that they clearly weren't the last here—McGee hadn't even got back yet. Why was Gibbs scolding him then?

"Hey, Duck," Gibbs greeted his friend casually, kindly even; he caught Tony's eye and looked slightly smug at the younger agent's infuriated expression at this unfair treatment. While Ducky stayed behind with Gibbs, Tony went to sit next to Ziva and Abby, silently muttering curses.

"So are you the commie, Tony?" Abby asked as soon as he sat down, leaning towards him and narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

Tony rolled his eyes, remembering his dud clue. "Hardly. But, you know, what about Ziva?" He turned to his partner and said accusingly, "COMMIE!"

Ziva whacked his shoulder. "Stop accusing me to get the attention off of yourself. That is what all communists would do."

"You would know, wouldn't you, Zee-vah?" Tony popped the 'vah' in her name in that infuriating way of his. Ziva scowled and opened her mouth to reply, but just then McGee came out of the director's office, looking disappointed, and Gibbs beckoned them all over to his desk.

"Get over here," he ordered. Everyone gathered around close as he continued, "This is the most important part of the game. Even if you found your clue, it would mean nothing if you pair yourself with the communist. You must be in an alliance of at least two." He paused abruptly then said: "Five minutes to group together, go."