See Disclaimer and Author Notes in Part One

Part Two

Don handled the drive back to the entrance of the park, fully intending to let one of the others take over from there, and wondered just how 'smart' it might have been to leave his agent alone with a woman, albeit a fellow federal agent, who seemed to regret having spent any time with that particular FBI agent.

"Megan, I know you were joking when you asked Agent Dunbar not to kill Colby…"

"Was I? David, did you not see their body language?" Megan asked as she turned in the front seat to face Sinclair in the back a little easier.

"Yeah, I saw it. Read it as merely 'tense' - was there more to it than what I saw?" Don nodded, one thing Sinclair had always been good at was adding more skills, or honing them when he was already experienced, to his résumé.

"Don, what do you think?"

He'd not been expecting to be pulled into the conversation, but since he had been, Don did his best to answer the behaviorist's question. "I think we saw what can happen when two federal cops, who just happen to start dating under circumstances outside the realm of law enforcement, don't tell each other what they do for a living."

"Well, d'uh." Megan quipped. "David, your assessment?"

Don looked up to watch David's face in the rearview mirror as the younger agent responded. "Let me put it this way … if those two can work past that little faux pas, and it's a doozie, then there's a chance that Agent Dunbar may just be a little too much for Colby to handle and we'll end up picking up the pieces."

Megan nodded in agreement with David, but Don shook his head as he guided the SUV along the barely discernable, barely drivable, park road. "I don't know about that. Yeah, they pretty much accused each other of hiding their professions from each other, and then proceeded to avoid each other at the scene. However, did either one of you notice how well they moved in tandem when Agent Keynes let out that scream?" He waited a few minutes, listening for the breathing of the other two to change ever so slightly, before continuing. "So you did notice. Good. I've seen very few people, even agents who've trained together for years, sync up that quickly and efficiently. So if, after only a week of seeing each other, those two are already coordinating like that--" He shrugged instead of finishing the thought, leaving the other two to draw their own conclusions.

David snorted in disbelief. "Right. You heard Dunbar - her mistrust, hatred, what-have-you for our agency seems to be genetically ingrained. There's no way she's going to forgive and forget that little omission from Granger."

Don decided to ignore David's remarks, but Reeves apparently wasn't going to let things lie there and picked up on the challenge just as Don turned onto state highway 195 - that cut through the national park - and headed south toward Interstate 10. When he climbed the access ramp onto the Ten, the two were placing bets and trying to get Don to join in. Megan was thinking the relationship would at least get started but then end after a few weeks. David, on the other hand, thought there was a good chance the team would be picking up little pieces of Granger and swearing out a warrant for Agent Dunbar come morning. Don, however, was sure the relationship would work out. Maybe because he recalled how unstable his own, current, relationship had started out.

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

"Mike, did the boss seem a little more tense than usual at the scene to you?" Leonard Goldblum asked of Doctor Michael Meese as they followed the FBI team out of the park with the intention of following them all the way to their offices in Los Angeles.

"Lenny, you've worked with Yelena for what? Six years now?" Goldblum nodded. "So you know how she feels about the Federal Bureau of Investigations and why. I'm sure that's all that was bothering her at the scene. After all, she did seem to relax once Rick took the bivouac kit up to her."

Goldblum shook his head. "You know, that's one thing I never understood … if the powers that be at NCIS headquarters knew training officers - like the one Dunbar had - instilled their personal disdain for other federal agencies into their trainees, why do they keep assigning him new recruits?"

"Because despite that one little issue, he's the best at teaching intensive investigative skills and for shaking out which ones have the stones to be field agents and which ones need to be kept out of the field."

"Well, that's one skill he passed on to Dunbar in spades … I think after this case, she's going to send Keynes packing."

Meese nodded. "Oh yes. Most definitely. The poor girl might be a crack academic, but she's a walking disaster in the field. If Sunny hadn't been foisted on us a full two months before Yelena was due to come back from the Stennis Group, she wouldn't have lasted past the initial interview stage."

"I'm surprised Rick didn't show Sunny the door when she showed up. He was in charge for the five months Dunbar was exiled on sea tour."

"Probably didn't want to ruin Yelena's 'fun' … watch it!"

Goldblum stepped on the breaks, then maneuvered to regain his close distance on Eppes' SUV as the FBI agent spun gravel and debris out from under his tires as he exited Joshua Tree National Park and jumped up on the Interstate. "Man drives like Dunbar, Doc. Sorry about that."

"No worries. You didn't hit him." Meese looked out his side mirror to see that Rick Stringfield and Agent Sunshine Keynes were still behind them. "And you avoided getting smacked in the rear by Rick."

The drive was quiet for a little while and Meese had been close to dropping into a catnap when Leonard spoke up again. "Doc … you think Dunbar is going to be all right back there until the FBI can get a forensic team out there in the morning?"

"Are you worried about the local fauna or the FBI Agent she allowed herself to be saddled with?"

"Both."

Meese sighed. "I asked Agent Eppes about that … seems the two of them have more experience than even myself at body removal from crude graves." He pointed back out the front window when Goldblum turned to look at him. "Do keep your eyes on the road, Lenny!" Meese squirmed in the passenger seat and, finally, realized his seat belt was twisted and untangled it. "Anyway, Agent Granger spent some time in the Balkans, years after Yelena did, working the mass graves from the conflicts in the area. He even went so far as to build his own field kit for such things, with his boss' approval. So, yes, I think Agent Yelena will be quite all right back there. Even if she's having to put up with an FBI Agent."

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

Yelena had spelled Colby down in the cramped crevice and was working on clearing debris from around the deceased's upper shoulders, or what was left of them, when the first leg cramp hit. She came up out of the fissure biting her lip and trying to not to trip over her own two feet. It didn't quite work. The charley-horse got worse and she ended up toppling into Colby, who'd dropped the screen he was working with to catch her.

"'Lena, what's wrong?"

"Cramp!" She couldn't change the harsh tone of her voice and didn't resist when he helped her over to an a nearby outcropping of rock, sat her down and - after seeing which leg she was favoring - started to assist her work the cramp out of her calf.

After five minutes, the cramp finally eased up and he handed her a bottle of water as he sat down beside her. "Guess we could use a break. This is not proving to be an easy extraction."

Yelena nodded as she sipped on the water, and then closed it back up before she dived back into the purple and tan pack Stringfield had left. When she found what she was looking for, she shook two of the larger tablets out and swallowed them with a big gulp of the water. "Want some?" She asked as she showed him the bottle and it's label. He looked at it, then reached out for it and shook two tablets of his own out.

"Thanks." He flipped the container back toward her.

Catching the bottle, Yelena stuffed it back into the bivouac pack. "You're welcome. I didn't think it was bad enough out here to warrant taking them earlier, but after that cramp--"

"Better to be safe than sorry. It's not every one who carries around bottles of salt and mineral tablets, pretty smart."

"I've lived out here long enough, and love hiking the high desert so much, that being prepared has become almost second nature."

"So how come you ended up with the cramp instead of me?" Colby's tone was light and teasing and Yelena took the ribbing in the good nature in which it was intended.

"Maybe I just wanted an excuse to get you to lay hands on me?" The surprised expression on his face, a little shocked too, was worth the pain caused by the cramp and Yelena started to laugh.

"Funny, 'Lena, funny." Colby groused as he stood up and started to walk back to the crevice of the cadaver.

She reached out and managed to catch his hand before he got out of easy reach. "CeeJay … I wasn't joking." She pulled him back to their make-do bench and kept the pressure up on his arm until he sat back down beside her. "Okay, getting a cramp wasn't in the plan, but I wasn't joking about wanting your hands on me."

He shook his head. "Yelena Dunbar, you are one seriously screwy chick." He pointed over to where the body was stuffed into its makeshift grave. "We're working on prying Johnny Doe over there out of his hole and you're playing games--"

"It's no game, Granger." She interrupted him. "I will admit, my timing is off, but would you rather that I had jumped your bones in the Library that first day or wait until around now before I told you that I am seriously attracted to you and--"

It was his turn to interrupt her and he effectively shut her up by placing a kiss on her lips. She leaned into the kiss and felt his arms come up around her shoulders and pull her in closer to his body. Before she was ready to let him go, Colby ended the kiss and slowly pushed Yelena back to where she wasn't leaning so hard on his body. His right hand came up and lifted her chin with a gentle pressure so she had to look into his green-gray eyes.

"Now, we both know that as pleasant as that was, we have other things we really need to get done before sundown so … consider that a promissory taste of things that might happen, 'Lena." The half-smile that graced his face in the late afternoon light sent shudders down her spine and caused something to stir in the deepest part of her soul.

"Granger, I'm going to hold you to that." She stood up and walked back over to where John Doe was resting, undisturbed by the suddenly warmer atmosphere, and bent her mind and body back to the task at hand. Yelena could hear Colby setting back to work on the sifting screens behind her and found herself hoping the bivouac pack was one that at least had a couple of tarps. Otherwise, John Doe was going to have to risk being exposed to the elements overnight.

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

Once again, Colby was down in the deepening crevice, but this time he was slowly and painstakingly removing the bits and pieces of the cadaver and handing them up to Yelena who was carefully wrapping them and placing them in a smaller-than-usual body bag. They had a limited amount of daylight left, but Yelena had pulled a small battery-powered, white LED lantern from her bivouac pack and it was waiting to be switched on if they didn't finish in time. Just before the fissure was plunged into darkness, he managed to hand the last bone, the mostly intact skull, up to Yelena and she packed it away.

He accepted her offer of a hand up out of the hole after she'd finished securing the last bit of evidence. The sun was barely visible above the horizon and, back to the east, Colby spotted the first of the evening stars putting in their appearance. "What a waste."

"Excuse me?" Yelena asked from where she was unpacking something from the pack.

"The sunset. It would've been better if it was just you and I and we were out here willingly. Instead, we're working a case and it's you, me and John Doe here." Colby smiled in the deepening darkness as Yelena let out a small laugh.

"Funny, CeeJay. Shield your eyes, I found what I was after." He followed her advice and within a few seconds the area was lit with the bright white light of the camping lamp. "Now we have enough light to set up our camp."

He agreed with her, stumbling around on the rocks and sand in the dark was not his idea of fun. "You need any help with the tent?"

"Tent?" Yelena laughed again. "No tent. Not needed tonight. Just a tarp, a couple of lightweight blankets, some insect repellant and a few food supplies."

"No tent?" Colby wasn't sure how he felt about that. Even in his days in Afghanistan and Iraq, there were always tents, even if they were just the lousy two-man pop tents. He watched as she pulled out a fairly large tarp, walked over to where their natural stone bench was and spread the tarp flat. She dove back into the pack, came up with a mini-MagLite and used that to find something else, which she handed to him with a couple of clanks. It only took him a second to realize what Yelena had handed to him. A single burner camp stove. "Great. Guess I just got volunteered for KP duty?"

"Yeap. At least heat up some water." She handed him a smaller pack from inside the large tan and purple bag. "Food supplies are in there. Pick out what you want. Though I'm not sure what's in there, but there should at least be two MRE's and maybe a couple of e-rats."

Colby watched as she wandered off out of the range of the lantern with just the miniature flashlight and a small survival shovel in hand. "'Lena … I'm more than willing to handle latrine duty!" Her 'Nah, I got it' drifted up to him and he set about setting up the stove to boil the water.

Reaching for the food supply bag, he reached in and found only one MRE and two high-calorie emergency ration bars. Glancing at the label on the MRE, Colby felt his insides freeze. He didn't even hear Yelena come back into the camp area until her hand was on his shoulder and caused him to flinch.

"CeeJay, what's wrong? That MRE out of date or something equally impossible?" Her tone was light, even teasing, but he couldn't share in the humor.

"I'm all right. You want this? I just realized I'm not hungry." He tossed the MRE to her and moved to settle on the tarp with his back against the stone bench. It still surprised him how, every now and then, little things reminded him of events he thought he had put behind him.

Yelena reached down, turned the flame under the pot of water off, and then walked over to sit down beside him. "Colby, don't fib. You've been doing the lion's share of work today so I know you've got to be hungry. Something about this ready-to-eat meal in a bag put you into a funk." She laid a warm hand on his forearm, "Is it something from overseas?"

It was a nice way to ask if he was having a PTSD flash back and he was thankful he could honestly deny that. "No, nothing from my Army days … I like MREs. It's just--"

Yelena used the mini-MagLite to read the label. "It's just that you have something against Macaroni 'N Cheese mixed with dehydrated tomatoes, peppers and other things?"

He shook his head. "'Lena … I nearly died because of Mac 'N Cheese."

"You've got food allergies?"

"No, a crazy neighbor who poisoned me with arsenic."

"What?!"

"It's true. Happened about five months ago and made the national news … you sure you haven't heard about the dumb FBI agent who allowed himself to be poisoned?"

"Colby … five months ago I was at sea on the Stennis. What the hell are you talking about?"

"At sea?"

"Yes, if I explain will you please tell me about this poisoned Mac 'n Cheese incident?" He was a little startled that there was someone in California based law enforcement that hadn't heard about the case against Harriet MacPherson, so he Colby agreed and Yelena launched into her explanation. "Okay, you know that JAG has a habit of embedding attorneys into large battle groups?" He nodded; Army JAG also did the same thing with their attorneys. "Well, NCIS also tends to put a field investigator on the flag ship of a battle group. I was sent to the USS John C. Stennis after she'd already put to sea because the assigned NCIS agent had to haul off and break the jaw of the flagship's CAG."

"Why would the agent do that?"

"Because his wife wrote and told him she'd been having an affair with the CAG."

Colby couldn't hold back the snicker. "Okay, I can see that. Justifiable assault."

"Right. Except the CAG and the NCIS agent had to be flown back to Diego for trial and NCIS-West had to assign another agent to the post, on a temporary basis, until Headquarters back in DC could get someone else to take their place."

"Let me guess … you got the assignment?"

"Yes, it was supposed to be for two, maybe three, weeks. Or so I was told."

Colby nodded. "They extended the assignment, didn't they?"

"Nope. A replacement agent relieved me within two weeks. However--" He had to move as Yelena switched from sitting beside him to kneeling in front of him, her face in silhouette from the lantern light. "Colby … I am on 'temporary duty assignment' to NCIS from the United State Marine Corps. I'm actually on Reserve status."

"You're a Marine?" He sat up; a little surprised that Yelena - who was clearly a feminine female - was a Teufelhund. A devil dog, as the Germans called them. Somehow, now that he'd seen her in action during an investigation, he wasn't a surprised as he thought he should've been. "Cool. You're a Marine."

"You don't mind?" He still couldn't see her face, but her tone was clearly one of shock.

"No. At least I know I will never have to worry about you being able to take care of yourself." He saw it coming, but didn't duck the friendly slap to the upper arm. "Ouch! You trying to hurt the Army, Marine?"

She laughed and shook her head. "Not yet … but I will if you don't come clean about the arsenic. Anyway, after the new NCIS agent showed up, some puke back at Marine HQ decided it was 'past time' for me to catch up on my Reservist duties and had me reassigned as a supernumerary with the Stennis' security attachment. Now, your turn, tell me about this crazy, arsenic brandishing neighbor of yours."

The lighter atmosphere of the camp disappeared as Colby told Yelena about Hattie MacPherson. How he'd never realized he was being poisoned until he woke up in the hospital and how Mad Hattie - the nickname Megan had given the woman had stuck - had done it in the name of research and was now sitting in the Federal Funny Farm in Texas.

"So, now you know how I was too blind to see how a little old lady was off her rocker and poisoning me right under my nose."

"CeeJay Granger! You quit wallowing in that loathing pool right this instant." The tone was unexpected and, if he really could stop hating himself for allowing himself to be a victim, Colby would've stopped right then. The sheer command in her voice was … impressive. "You are NOT responsible for what that old bat did to you. You said Agent Reeves, a trained profiler and behaviorist, hadn't seen what Mad Hattie was up to until she actually confessed. How in the HELL were you supposed to see it when you liked Hattie and she used that against you?"

Colby blinked, then sat back against the still warm stone. Nothing Yelena had just said was new to him, he'd been hearing the same thing, or similar, from his teammates, to his parents and siblings and even Doctor Bradford since Hattie was arrested. However, this was the first time it really sank in. He wasn't responsible. But it also didn't stop him from asking The Question. "How could I not have seen it, 'Lena?"

She leaned forward, almost curling up in his lap as she gently placed her forehead against his and her voice lowered into a soft, almost 'furry' tone. "Because she was nuts and didn't want you to see it, CeeJay. Crazy people will fuck with your head in a heartbeat and leave you wondering what the hell happened. I'm just glad she failed."

"So I am. I can honestly say I was never so scared and confused as I was when I woke up in the hospital with a tube down my throat." He felt Yelena tremble against him even as his own body shuddered at the memory. "My dad was there, I think that alone shocked and scared me more than the tube … but I was also glad to see him."

"There's nothing as calming as a parent's presence when we're sick."

"Yeah, that's true enough. Dad tried to hide it, but I think I scared ten years off his life. I know that when he took me back home to Idaho, he and mom barely let me out of their sight. Even my brothers were a little insane about me wandering off on my own." He shifted Yelena in his lap until she was laying beside him, her head cradled on his bicep. "My teammates were great too. Falling apart trying to figure out what happened to me, but everyone came through and nailed the crazy bitch to the wall."

"So why are you having trouble putting Hattie behind you, CeeJay?"

"I don't know." He held her a little closer to him, grateful for her warmth even though the desert hadn't started to lose the heat of the day yet. "Maybe I just need to work through this slowly. Doctor Bradford tells me I can't push, but I don't want this memory anymore."

Yelena's head shifted and he tried to peer through the dim lantern light at her. "You're always going to have the memory, CeeJay. Hopefully, one day, it won't piss you off as much."

"God, I hope you're right."

"Of course I'm right. You just need to learn that right now and we'll get along just fine." Her body moved a little closer to his and he felt her breath tickle his ear before she spoke again. "You know what really scares you, Agent Granger?"

"What?"

"You're worried that if you missed seeing what Hattie was up to, that you'll miss something else - maybe something more important."

Once again, Yelena's tone was soft and furry and … there was something else there; some intangible quality that caused his guts to tighten up. He decided to take a chance and moved - just a little - to turn his head and kissed her. Just as her body started to mold against his, his stomach decided it had been ignored long enough and let out a mighty rumble.

The mood was broken and, after they both laughed themselves silly, Yelena got up, rummaged through the pack for an emergency ration bar and dug up a couple of packs of Crystal Light On-The-Go and added them to two bottles of water before rejoining Colby on the tarp. They shared the e-rat bar, washing the not-quite-sawdust flavored with synthetic peanut butter so-called-food stuff down with the lemon-flavored drink before Yelena showed Colby how to scoop out a depression in the sand under the tarp for their hips.

After their bed was as ready as they could make it, Colby reached over and turned off the lantern. He then settled back down to watch the diamond-like stars move slowly across the black velvet sky, with Yelena curled in his arms.

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

Lenny Goldblum had followed Agent Eppes' SUV all the way from the national park into downtown Los Angeles and into the parking garage at the local FBI headquarters. Inside the garage, one of the agents, Sinclair, pointed out where he could park the van and then escorted Doctor Meese, himself and the victim to the Morgue.

The autopsy bay and offices for the medical examiners was actually, according to Doctor Claudia Gomez - maybe the 'real' reason Agent Sinclair had offered to perform escort duties, a remote office for the Los Angeles County Coroner's Office. They handled federal cases as a priority but also helped out the main Medical Examiner's staff by taking in a few city and county cases when the main morgue was overwhelmed with bodies. Doctor Claudia showed Doctor Meese to a free autopsy bay, then left to take in a new body coming in on a city case … after she apologized to Sinclair for having to 'bump' their rendezvous to a much later date.

Lenny helped Meese get the body out of the bag and onto the table before starting to explore the room. It was much nicer than the one the Marines had set up for the Doc back at Camp Pendleton and Lenny found himself fighting his own consciousness. Yes, the FBI morgue probably wouldn't miss too many of the supplies from their nice, shiny and well-organized cabinets and drawers, but in the spirit of interagency cooperation Lenny felt that thieving supplies wasn't a good way to start.

"Lenny, I could use your assistance here, if you don't mind?" Meese called out from where he stood over the body, scalpel in one hand and the other, apparently, already inside the cadaver.

He grabbed a disposable surgical gown from a box near the doorway, a pair of gloves from a counter top dispenser and a pair of shoe covers before getting too close to the table. "Mike, you do remember that I'm not trained in this sort of thing, right?"

"Yes, yes." Meese waved him over, then grabbed his hand and used it like a retractor on the victim's ribcage. "Hold that right there … there's something I need to ask Doctor Gomez for." The Navy Doctor sped from the room just then, leaving Lenny holding a ribcage by a rib and the bottom part of the sternum.

His hand was just beginning to spasm a little when Meese returned with what looked like bolt cutters. "What are you going to use those for, Mike?" The answer became all too obvious when the doc reached into the body with the working end of the cutters, positioned them carefully on a rib and snapped the bone in half.

"Just a few more to go and then you can lift the breast plate out, Lenny."

The NCIS agent had two choices; ignore the glee in Meese's voice and try not to puke or just swear vengeance on the medical examiner for doing this to him. Lenny swallowed the bile rising in his throat and started to breath through his mouth and smiling like a loon. After all, smiling, he had heard, dampened the gag-reflex.

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

Rick Stringfield and Sunny Keynes made it back to Camp Pendleton before sundown and after he had insisted on taking her by the dispensary to have her ankle checked out - it had swollen up to the size of a softball on the drive back to base - Sunny sat at her desk, chewing on a thumbnail. Rick had gone over to the nearest mess hall to grab some dinner for the two of them, but she wanted to have something to show him when he came back. So she propped her leg up on a trash can, to keep the ankle elevated like the medic told her to, and started typing in what little she knew about Seaman First Class Ignacio Ramirez. That had been the name, and she had a service number too, printed on the dogtags on the first dead body so she decided that was probably who they were dealing with, at least until and unless Doctor Meese came up with someone different.

When Rick came back with a couple of Styrofoam containers and two bottles of soda, Sunny had found Ramirez's service records and had put them up on the large plasma screen as well as printed them out. "Rick … I think I've found our dead squid." She explained as the senior agent handed her the container holding her tuna salad sandwich and chips.

"Already? Sunny-girl, I wasn't even gone fifteen minutes… show me." He sat down on her desk, already pulling his sandwich out and munching on it even as he turned to look at the plasma screen behind her.

"It's not confirmed - that will depend on Doctor Meese - but according to the doctor's preliminary estimate for Time of Death, this very well could be the right man." She grabbed her soda, took a swig from the bottle, then continued. "Ramirez was to have reported for duty on the Reagan 10 days ago, only he didn't and his CO put out the AWOL squawk on him." She grabbed her notebook from the scene off her desk, flipped a couple of pages back, looked at her notes and nodded. "Yeah, see here?" she handed Rick the book, "Meese estimated our John Doe Squid has been dead about 10-12 days … if it is Ramirez--" she didn't finish, just let her sentence end there with sort of a leading trail off.

Rick smiled at her as he finished chewing, took a drink from his own Pepsi and then really grinned at her. "Probie, I think you may be on to something here. Send that report to Eppes' team and ask them to get it to Meese. You may have to rethink that whole 'Dunbar's going to get rid of me' thing … work like this, done on your own initiative, is exactly what she's looking for in a future NCIS field agent."

Sunny just stared at Rick as he got up off her desk, taking his dinner with him back to his own desk, not quite sure if she believed his words of encouragement. Shaking herself out of her reverie, Sunny dug into her pocket for the business card Agent Eppes had handed her, found the email address printed on there, but opted to call instead. After all, if she wanted to be sure Meese got the report tonight, then she had to fax it directly to wherever the doctor was. Or at least make sure Leonard Goldblum was around to hand-carry the report from Eppes' fax machine to Doctor Meese.

The phone rang four times before a slight click sounded over the line and someone other than Agent Eppes picked up. "FBI Los Angeles, Agent Eppes isn't available at the moment, how else can I direct your call?"

"Is Agent Reeves or Sinclair available? This is Agent Keynes from NCIS-West at Camp Pendleton calling."

"One moment, Agent." The female voice asked nicely before putting her on hold. A few seconds later, the voice was back. "Agent Keynes? I'm sorry, it looks like all three agents are … wait a minute. Okay, Reeves and Eppes just checked back in. Let me switch you back to his phone."

"Thank you." Sunny said, but was pretty sure the woman hadn't heard her before routing her call back to Eppes' phone.

"Eppes!"

"Agent Eppes, Sunny Keynes. Sorry to call you before you had a chance to settle, but do you know where I could fax a report for Doctor Meese to look at?" The FBI agent rattled off a long string of numbers that Sunny wrote down before asking one other question. "Thanks, do you have a reliable printer that will print out a clear copy of a ten-card?" Eppes rattled off an email account and promised that if he had to, he'd bother the I.T. Techs for a decent printer if it would lead to confirming who the dead sailor was.

Sunny thanked the FBI agent for the information and promised to fax the file ASAP and include the fingerprint ten-card. She hung up, turned back to grab the file she'd printed out, only to see Rick smiling at her. "What?!"

"Careful, Sunny-girl. You may have just stumbled into your area of expertise for NCIS." He stood up from his desk and wandered off down the hall, leaving Sunny wondering what the senior agent meant. Shrugging, she got up to walk over to the fax machine, only to hiss as the pain from her sprained ankle shot up her leg, forcing her to sit back down. Since she was the only person in the office, she felt no shame in using her office chair like a wheelchair and rolled over to the fax machine. She added the ten-card to the stack as an afterthought, then pushed back to her desk to send the electronic file to Eppes.

That done, she got up and hopped - one-legged - over to Rick's desk to take a look at the Minolta camera that Agent Dunbar had dropped. Sunny was removing the film canister when Rick came back. "Don't bother trying to repair that old thing, Dunbar's been trying to trash it for at least four years. Now she can get the Canon film camera she's been lusting after."

Sunny nodded, put the film in her pocket and then, without thinking, dumped the camera in the trashcan beside Stringfield's desk. "Whoops!"

Rick shook his head and started to laugh, even as he pulled the camera back out of the can. "Can't toss it yet, Probie. We've got to show the damage to Headquarters before the bean counters will approve our getting a new one." He placed the camera back on his desk. "But I like the way you think."

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

After dropping Sinclair off in the garage so he could lead the NCIS Medical Examiner and Agent Goldstein to the morgue, Don and Reeves had headed up to their desks on the 14th floor. Don waited until he and Megan were the only ones on the elevator before he started to talk. "Can you believe that Dunbar? I realize the first body is, by her definitions, under her jurisdiction, but the second one?"

Megan snorted. "Don, the pissing contest between you and Agent Dunbar isn't what's bothering you. Just spit it out and quit beating around the bush."

"What?"

She got off the elevator first and used that as an excuse to led Don into the deserted break room. "You're worried. About Dunbar, about Granger, about the case … just admit it and try to figure out why."

Don brushed by Reeves and grabbed a disposable cup from beside the coffee maker but instead of filling it with coffee like he would've in the past, he walked over to the bottled water dispenser. "It's not Granger or Dunbar's 'safety' I'm worried about, Megan. He's a former Ranger and Dunbar is probably a Navy gal or a former Marine, I am pretty sure they can handle anything that comes their way." He took a swallow from his water before continuing. "It's not even Dunbar's team being the lead in this investigation."

"Then what's crawling around in that brain of yours, Eppes?" She moved past him to get her own water.

"I'm not sure. Maybe it's that young agent of Dunbar's, Keynes. I can't believe an agent of Dunbar's position hasn't drop kicked her back to the academy for re-evaluation."

Megan shook her head. "Don, don't judge Keynes by what little you've seen of her so far. Or what you might have heard from Dunbar herself. Sometimes it's the agents that start off on the bumpiness road who end up the best field agents, it just takes a little longer to hammer their rough edges smooth."

Don drained the last of his water, crumpled the cup and tossed it in the trash. "You talking from experience, Megan?"

"Maybe." She paused to sip on her cup before speaking again. "All right. Yes. My first assignment out of Quantico was a near disaster. Thankfully, I had a senior field agent who pulled me up by my bootstraps and realized I had untapped talents and helped me get further training. Keynes may just be having the same problem." Megan topped off her water and headed back out to the bullpen.

Don followed her, recalling how his first assignment out of Quantico - with a robbery unit out of Duluth - had not been one of his stellar moments. He approached his desk, pulling a piece of sugar-free gum out of his shirt pocket and popping it in his mouth, prior to noticing that the incoming call light was flashing on his phone. Before he could answer it, the light stopped blinking, indicating the switchboard had pulled the call back and was probably taking a message. He reached out as he sat down and flipped the switch on the side of the phone that would allow the FBI switchboard operators know he was back on station.

The phone started ring out loud before he could boot up his computer. "Eppes!" he answered, not exactly in a happy mood, the switchboard must've just been waiting for him to go 'back in office' so they could send a call his way. He listened as NCIS Agent Keynes explained what she had found, that the dead sailor might be one Ignacio Ramirez and as he listened Don realized that, maybe, Agent Keynes had the skills to become a real federal agent after all. He gave her the information she requested, namely a secure fax line and email account to send her information to. After hanging up, he sat for a minute in silent contemplation before he heard Megan calling his name.

"Don, what was that about?"

Don let a smile cross his face as he stood up to go to the fax machine he'd given Sunny the number to. "Would you believe me if I told you that Agent Keynes may have already identified the dead sailor?"

Megan looked at her watch. "Already?! Stringfield must have drove like Andretti for her to have pulled up the information by now. We've not even been back fifteen minutes … Wait, how can she be sure she's I.D.ed the victim?"

Don stood over the fax machine as it started to chitter and chatter, signifying an incoming fax. "She said she wasn't sure, but that the parameters she put on her database search - including the man's service number and name from the dogtags - pulled up a possible match to a sailor who missed his launch date on the USS Ronald Reagan. Ten days ago." The fax spit out the last page and Don picked up the papers to look over the quality of the ten-card as well as the only photo Keynes had found in the man's service files. It wasn't good. "Megan, call I.T. and tell them I'm on my way down and that I'll need access to their highest resolution printer. After that, call over to the morgue and ask someone there to tell Doctor Meese I'm bringing him a file to look at."

As he left the area, he placed the faxed information on Megan's desk. The fingerprint card and photo might not have faxed through clear, but the rest of the Seaman First Class file did and, Don knew, that's all Megan needed to start a behavioral profile on the victim. That Reeves was already looking over the file as he was heading out and she was calling the Information Technology department just proved - once more - that Megan Reeves was damn good at multitasking. Something that, in the future, would stand her in good stead for a team leader position if not an actual office of her own to run.

Before he got down to the I.T. department, Don stopped by the hole the FBI had stuffed their Forensic teams into while their usual office space was being renovated - read: demolished due to an infestation of some unidentifiable nasty. Finding Shelly Montenegro pissing and moaning about her team having to share space with other, less organized, teams, Don asked her to see if she could assign a crew to go out first thing in the morning to process the scene at Joshua Tree National Park. What he hadn't expected was her enthusiastic response that it would be her merry band of criminalists who would take on the assignment. He wondered about that until he was standing outside of the sacrosanct domain of Information Technology. Overtime. Shelly and her fellow criminalists were after the all mighty overtime dime.

Don was still chuckling over Montenegro's dedication to duty when he asked Dieter Smith, the current shift leader in I.T., for access to the high resolution, color laser printer. From Dieter's reaction, an uninformed observer might think Don had asked the man to sacrifice his first-born child on the altar of some bloodthirsty deity, but after helping the Tech Weasel stop hyperventilating Don got his request granted without asking Assistant Director of Agents Wright to step in. Though he had been seriously contemplating that action while looking for a paper sack for Dieter to breathe into.

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

Yelena woke up, not sure at first what had awakened her, but aware something wasn't quite right. First off, she'd actually fallen asleep at a crime scene. Secondly, she was using Granger's chest as a pillow and while he didn't seem to mind, she didn't want to become too comfortable with that idea. Not yet anyway. She was trying to move out from under Granger's arm when the silence of the area slammed into her awareness.

'Too quiet. Even in the hottest weather, there's always some sort of insect noises in the desert country.' Forgoing the stealthy approach to extricating herself from Granger's grasp, Yelena Dunbar sat straight up and scanned the horizons. The light of a quarter moon helped illuminate the landscape with a dim silver glow … especially the eastern horizon. "Shit! Granger, wake up!" She wasn't exactly gentle as she shook his shoulder to wake him, but his reaction time still caught her off guard.

Yelena ended up flat on her back, looking up into Granger's face even as his hand was tightening on her throat. He'd told her he had been in the Army, now she was certain he'd been in Special Forces, it was always a mistake to rudely awaken Spec-Ops guys. Thankfully, he woke up enough to realize who she was before the pressure on her throat got to the level that would leave bruises. "Crap! Yelena!" He let go of her, standing up as he did so, pulling her up with him. "I could've killed you! Don't do that again. Ever!"

She coughed, loosening up the tightness in her throat before she replied. "Fine, next time I'll leave you to the tender mercies of the approaching storm." Yelena pointed over his shoulder, back to the East. "Unless you'd rather get sandblasted, I suggest we find cover in the next three minutes or we're both going to have very interesting stories to tell our teams."

Granger looked to where she was pointing and even someone not trained in desert survival could miss the roiling, almost surreal, wall of advancing dust and sand as it steamrolled across the desolate landscape. "Three minutes? Hell, looks more like two to me, 'Lena."

They moved to pick up the tarp they'd been lying on, grabbed and placed the compact body bag with the remains of the second body under the bench-wall they'd been using as a back-brace, then made their way back to where they'd worked all afternoon to dig Johnny Doe up. The hole wasn't deep, but it was protected on two sides by hard sandstone walls and, with the tarpaulin as a cover, they might just weather the intruding storm. Just before Granger pulled the tarp over their hidey-hole, Yelena darted back out to grab the large backpack and dragged it back to form a third wall. She also dove into a pocket and grabbed another bandana and a bottle of water.

The noise from the wind was so loud at this point that verbal communication was out, and stumbling around in the dark was becoming dangerous; however, Yelena managed to soak the scarf she had been using as a bandeau as well as the newest one, and made sure Granger understood to use the soaked material as a breathing filter. She was just settling down beside him in the hole, practically forced to lay on top of him, when something struck the tarp and the back of her head, stunning her.

- - - - - - - -

Colby struggled with the tarp, using his body to anchor one end and planning on having Yelena use her body to pin the other end down, effectively creating a cocoon. He didn't protest when she darted back out of the hollow to grab the large backpack - her idea of using it as a third 'wall' at the end of the canvas-made tube would help keep some of the dust and sand out. When she handed him the water-soaked bandana he nodded that he understood and took a few seconds to secure it around his nose and mouth.

When they were finally as prepared for the storm as they could be, he handed her an end of the tarp and watched as she settled down. Her lithe body practically lying on top of his did wonders for distracting him from the potential danger they were in from the tempest. Yelena had just stopped squirming around, her body providing an anchor for her end of the cover, when Colby heard the 'clang' of something metal and heard her let out a gasp just as her body went suddenly lax.

"'Lena?!" He pulled her in close so he could hear if she responded, but nothing. Carefully, he wriggled one arm free around so he could gently cradle her head, and check for bleeding, when he came across a slight bump on the back of her skull; a bulge that was rapidly growing even as he used only his fingertips to try to discern the potential damage in the darkness of their rough shelter. 'This is just great. First I damn near kill her with my combat reflexes when she woke me up to save me from this sandstorm, and now she's gotten clocked on the noggin' because she insisted that I take the bottom of the crevice.'

Knowing there was nothing he could do at the moment for her, Colby held onto Yelena and waited for one of two things to happen. Either the storm would blow itself out and he could then recover their camp light and inspect her injury and decide, then, if he needed to use the radio to call for an evac; or she'd regain consciousness on her own before the storm blew out and would be able to respond to some down and dirty assessment questions.

As he held her, Colby felt Yelena's breathing pattern change and she jerked back to awareness rather abruptly.

"Fuck! That HURT!" The swiftness of her return to consciousness, and so irritably vocalized, made Colby chuckle. Which may have been a mistake, for she must have heard - or possibly felt - him laughing as there was a sudden poke in his ribs as she leaned in closer to ask, "What the HELL are you laughing at, Granger?"

"I was…" He stopped, realizing he had to raise his voice a little higher to be heard over the howling wind. "I was going to ask if you were all right, but … where did you learn to cuss?!"

"Where do you think?!"

The two of them chuckled at their situation before calming down to wait out the sandstorm. The closeness of their bodies would, under other conditions, be more than an open invitation to Colby's mind to let his hands explore Yelena's curves. As it was, he decided that it wasn't the best time to even think about such a thing, even though he did think about it, and kept his hands still where they lay across her back.

He'd had a chance, in the scrambling around to prepare for the arrival of the storm, to glance at his watch's iridium dial and when the wind finally stopped blasting their makeshift shelter, and Yelena lifted the tarp off them - dumping a large amount of sand down on top of their bodies - Colby got another look at his watch and realized they'd been huddled together for well over two hours. And, really, the storm wasn't over, the air was still filled with fine dust particles but the sandblasting part of the tempest was done.

Even as he scrambled over to where they'd placed Johnny Doe's body bag to make sure he weathered the storm with no major ill effects, Colby heard Yelena break out the military radio Stringfield had turned over and she contacted someone, probably the Marine flight-ops running the exercises the NCIS agent had told him about.

"Lima Flight - Palms, can you read me?"

"Top? Is that you?"

Yelena let out a laugh before keying the radio again. Colby knelt down beside the stone bench and started to shift sand with his hands that had accumulated around the body bag.

"Yeah, it's me … that you Sergeant Harkess?"

"TopBar! You managed to survive the storm? How about the Fed who's with you?"

"We both made it through the storm, Sergeant. How soon before you and Camp Penn resume your logistical flight-ops?"

"You requesting extrication to Camp Penn?"

"Roger that."

"Give us til sunrise to get the birds dusted off, checked over and prepped and we'll be right there. Can you pop smoke for an LZ?"

"No smoke … watch for an alternate LZ marker."

"Roger that, Top. We'll be over your last known shortly after zero-six-hundred. Lima Flight - Palms, out."

He'd just managed to free the body bag of it's sand tomb when Yelena came back to stand over him. "Colby, we should have a ride out shortly after dawn. Hope you don't mind choppers?"

"Nah, I like chopper rides ... the more turbulent the better." Colby brushed sand off his Dockers as he stood up and faced Yelena. "By the way, I couldn't help but over hearing … 'TopBar'?"

"A shortened combination of Top Sergeant, just one of my ranks in my Corps career, and my last name. Sergeant Harkess and I go way back and he's the one who hung the nick on my when I crossed over to the reserves and NCIS." She reached up and used her hand to brush more dust and sand out of his hair, enveloping them both in another cloud of particulate. "Damn, we definitely need a shower after this."

Colby nodded, already feeling parts of his body chaffing where sand or dust had gotten caught between him and his clothes. "Yeah, but that will have to wait until I get back home to LA."

"Why?"

"No change of clothes in my field kit, that's why."

Yelena shook her head. "Army, you ain't thinking straight. We're hitching a ride on a Marine bird, back to a Marine base, where there is a Post Exchange where we can pick up a change of clothes for you and, if you don't mind a little more closeness, I do have a fully equipped guest bathroom back at my quarters."

He looked down at her; the pale moon had finally emerged from the clouds and was filtering through the last of the airborne dust, and shook his head. "I should probably refuse the offer, but truth be told, I hate sand in my clothes so I accept your proposal, Yelena Dunbar."

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

David Sinclair woke up in his apartment, his hand automatically reaching for his sidearm on the bedside stand before he even started to try to catalogue what woke him up. The soft ticking of the Baby Ben® alarm clock whispered through the dark gray stillness of the room, lending no clues to his sleep-muddled senses or Morpheus messed up mind. Stealing a glance at the face of the clock, David slipped from bed knowing there was no way he was going to be able to get back to sleep until - and if - he figured out what woke him in the first place.

Sliding into a pair of pajama bottoms, he wandered out to the living area in the dim light from the streetlamps that barely filtered past his blinds and curtains. As he neared the entrance door, David heard a car door slam shut, just as a larger sized engine cranked over and a door on the lower floor crashed closed. Glancing out the front door, he saw what he expected to see … the huge red and white, older model Ford LTD that belonged to the couple downstairs was roaring out of the parking area, which meant the Yancys were fighting. Again.

Closing the door, David banged his head lightly against the heavy structure. "I really need to get out of this complex." He engaged the deadbolt once more and, after taking care of a little detail in the bathroom, padded back out to the kitchen on bare feet, looking for something to drink. As he crossed the living area, he grabbed up the television remote and clicked it, automatically switching the channel over to the Weather Channel.

He'd just pulled a small bottle of orange juice from the fridge when the weather-girl, she really couldn't be a meteorologist - not with that body, started talking about how cold air above the Mojave and the hot air at ground level had caused one of the largest dust storms of the last four years. David turned the volume up as he walked over to stand in front of the TV, just as a graphic of the affected area flashed on the screen.

"…as you can tell, the areas of southern California affected are some of the lesser populated regions, but according to the FAA, many commercial and military flights have been postponed until this storm blows itself out. That can be anywhere from another hour to two more days. This time of year, with the current weather pattern we're tacking, the duration is pretty much up in the air. We'll be back with the Sand and Sun report, right after this."

David cursed as he realized the hardest hit area was right where they'd left Colby and the NCIS Agent. The east end of Joshua Tree National Park, and with the military having canceled flight operations, the one 'emergency' way of evacuating Granger if there was a need was gone. Marines were nuts, skilled and talented nuts, but not even United States Marine Corps Aviators would fly their birds through a sandstorm.

Reaching for his landline, David dialed up the forensic lab at headquarters, only to find out that Shelly Montenegro and her team had already left out for the park. According to the lab tech manning the desk, Shelly had heard the first reports on the sandstorm over her not-quite-legal police and military scanner and decided the best way to tackle the situation was to leave and hope to get to the scene before the winds blew all the evidence away. Not to mention, they might be needed to dig Granger out of whatever hole he and the NCIS agent had, hopefully, managed to crawl into.

David hung up the phone and debated whether or not he should call Don. He finally opted against it when he realized there was nothing any of them could really do except worry and he was doing enough of that for everyone on the team. "Here's hoping you found a nice place to hole up in Granger and that Dunbar doesn't decide to leave you to get sandblasted." He drained the last of his orange juice and, seeing that it was close to four in the morning, decided he'd had enough sleep and getting ready for the day would be a good way to keep from worrying, too much, about Granger.