Title: Undercover, Ch. 2

Rating: K+, possibly T

A/N: So, here's the latest bit of my oh-so-cliched undercover story. This chapter's a bit long, but I thought I might as well go ahead and set up the case. I'll warn you in advance--I have no clue if Kate's profile of the killer is in any way an accurate psychological portrayal. I just write stories--I have no background in psychology. So take it with a grain of salt. Other than that--do let me know what you think, and enjoy!!

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"So why are we sharing a case with the FBI, boss?" Tony queried, puzzlement written all over his face. He was actually almost afraid to ask. Nearly all morning the office had been incredibly and inexplicably tense. Kate had been unusually quiet, her head bent over her paperwork, and Gibbs was growling at everyone and everything like a badly wounded bear. Tony didn't have the faintest clue what was wrong and had no intention of asking, but Gibbs' sudden announcement of a new shared case was too shocking to pass unnoticed.

The ex-Marine in question peered up at him over the rims of his reading glasses, eyes piercingly blue.

"Since the Director hauls me into MTAC and tells me to, DiNozzo." Then Gibbs clamped his mouth shut and went back to whatever he was doing on his computer.

Tony gulped slightly, his eyes darting from side to side as he tried to figure out how to get more information out of Gibbs without earning himself another glare—or worse, a head-slap. Suddenly his eyes lit up as a brilliant idea popped into his head. Stealthily, he snatched a paper clip from the mess on his desk and flicked it at McGee, waggling his eyebrows suggestively when the other man looked up.

"Ask him, Probie," he mouthed, evil intentions written plainly on his face. McGee's mouth dropped open as he looked from one man to the other, his inner conflict evident as he weighed the dangers of ignoring Tony or of annoying his boss. Clearly deciding in Gibbs' favor, he glanced at Tony and resolutely shook his head.

Murder glinted in the senior agent's eyes at his subordinate's refusal. Scooting his chair back, he started to get up and exact revenge on his co-worker when the sound of Gibbs' voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Sit down, DiNozzo." He pushed back from his desk and strode over to the plasma screen in the middle of the bullpen. "I'm gonna tell you about the case. Without any encouragement from McGee."

Stopping in front of the screen, he flicked it on and then glared at the blank blue square staring back at him.

"How the hell do you make this thing show up, McGee?" he growled irritably.

McGee scuttled over to his boss's desk and hit a few keys, sighing audibly in relief when an image flicked up on the screen. He remained behind Gibbs' desk, eyes wide at the three pictures that had popped up side by side—crime scene photos of three couples, all very clearly dead.

"All right," Gibbs grunted, throwing the screen's remote to Tony and sticking both hands in his pockets. "Class time begins now. Here—" he stabbed a finger at the screen "—we have the six victims. Three Marine officers from Quantico and their wives. Captain Paul Tracey and his wife Linda, First Lieutenant Todd Johnson and his wife Carly, and Lieutenant Colonel James Matthews and his wife Sara. All three were killed at high-end hotels in the D.C. area. In all three cases the wife was strangled, seemingly with the killer's bare hands, and the husband was tied up and shot once in the forehead, execution-style."

Tony whistled, eyebrows going up a little in surprise.

"Isn't that just a little…weird, boss?"

He cringed slightly at the glare he got in reply.

"I don't know, DiNozzo. Personally, I run into three dead officers and their wives every morning. What about you?"

Tony glanced over at Kate for support, and was slightly shocked to discover that she was sitting at her desk still doing paperwork, not paying any attention to Gibbs at all. Before he could get her attention, Gibbs' voice cut through his distraction.

"DiNozzo! Pay attention. All three officers were on leave, taking the weekend off to spend a little time in the city. In two of the three cases, they had tickets for the theatre the next night and dinner reservations at nearby restaurants."

McGee piped up, looking nervous but determined to prove himself.

"Did the killer steal anything, boss?"

"No, McGee. And he left no evidence at the crime scene. No prints, no fibers, no DNA. And—"

"Which proves," Tony cut in, "that this wasn't a random burglar or a an angry bellboy. This guy was watching their every move before he made the kill." Then he realized that he'd cut Gibbs off in the middle of a statement and cringed in anticipation of retribution. "That is what you were going to say…right, boss?"

Gibbs turned the famous death-glare on his senior field agent and continued his discourse.

"Each of the crime scenes is constructed in exactly the same way. The woman is lying on the floor, strangled, and the man is sitting in a chair with his hands tied behind him. From the times of death, it appears that the woman was killed a few minutes before the man in each case."

Tony's eyebrows went up again.

"He makes the guy watch? That's cold, boss. Really cold."

"That's why he's a killer, DiNozzo. Now this is the part where it gets interesting."

Gibbs flicked the remote with a wary eye and looked rather pleased with himself when the correct image flashed onscreen. He stabbed a finger at the photo of the back of a man's head, discolored with a large and painful-looking lump.

"Each of the men has a similar lump on the back of his head, probably inflicted by a blunt object like a baseball bat. The blow wasn't hard enough to cause permanent damage, but from what Ducky tells me it would have knocked him out for a good five to ten minutes."

"Enough time to tie him up and start strangling his wife," McGee speculated soberly.

"Right, McGee."

"So does he rape the wife first or just strangle her?" Tony wanted to know.

"Good point, DiNozzo." Tony beamed. "The first you've made all morning." Gibbs smirked as the agent's face fell. "The killer does not rape the wives; they aren't sexually assaulted in any way."

"Which is unusual given the extremely hands-on and violent nature of the crime, right, boss?" McGee queried.

"Kate can answer that," Gibbs said gruffly, turning to the female agent. "You got that profile ready?"

She raised her head from the file on her desk, her eyes guarded as they met his. She rose slowly, picked up the file, and moved out from behind the desk to join the rest of the team.

"McGee's right," she said coolly. "It is unusual for the killer to employ strangulation—a very personal and emotion-driven method of execution—without some sort of sexual motivation. However, from the evidence we have I theorize that the killer is motivated by sexual trauma, probably stemming from his childhood. His father probably abused him and his mother either failed to stop the abuse or didn't seem to care."

"So you think he's identifying with the male victim as his father?" Tony asked.

"Yes—he sees the officer he's killing as a father figure. He's still frightened of his father and has to prove that he's in control. That's why he ties the man up, rendering him powerless. He strangles the woman in front of her husband so that the man will plead for his wife's life—again putting him in a position of power."

"But he won't rape the woman because he identifies her as his mother?" McGee questioned.

"Probably. He either sees her as his mother or simply views her as a pawn in the game he's playing with the father figure. If he does view her as his mother than he's getting revenge for her failure to stop the abuse."

"So why doesn't he make the father figure suffer more if he was the one who perpetrated the abuse?" McGee wanted to know.

"I think it's because he's still afraid of the father figure. Tying him up and making him plead for the woman's life puts the killer in a position of power. But getting too close or engaging in further physical contact would bring back memories of the abuse. He wants to obliterate the father figure as quickly as possible once he's achieved a sense of vindication."

"And the fact that they're all Marine officers?" Tony asked.

"The killer's probably ex-military, had some sort of run-in with his C.O. while he was in the service. That conflict with a male in power brought back memories of the abuse he suffered as a child. Now he identifies officers as the father figure who hurt him and he seeks to revenge himself and re-live the memory on his terms."

The two agents nodded, satisfied with the information they had just received. Then Tony piped up.

"I still wanna know why we're sharing the investigation with the FBI, boss."

Gibbs, who had remained behind his desk during Kate's lecture, shifted his reading glasses to the end of his nose and peered over the tops at Tony.

"Two of the three officers were involved in top-secret, classified operations," he said calmly. "The FBI did not see fit to involve us until the third murder, which did not involve any sort of special ops. Fortunately our old friend Fornell has been kind enough to brief me on the investigation and has agreed to turn the bodies and forensic evidence over to our lab."

The three agents grinned, knowing Gibbs' deep hatred of shared investigations, especially with the FBI. And if Fornell was involved, there were sure to be some interesting moments. He and Gibbs bristled like two dogs fighting over a bone whenever they got within twenty feet of each other.

Eyes lit up in expectation of the fun to come, Tony plopped into his desk chair and spun it to face Gibbs.

"So what are we doing next, boss?"

His boss gave him a single sardonic look from beneath a raised eyebrow.

"Well, DiNozzo, I haven't told you to gas the truck, get Ducky, or go down to Abby's lab. What do you think we're doing?"

Tony's jaw dropped and his eyes opened wide at the implications of that statement.

"That can only mean one thing, boss. We're going undercover!!"

He spun to face McGee.

"Ah, it's been too long, Probie. I love undercover ops! Makes me think of 007—perfectly mixed martinis, beautiful women, cool accents…"

Affecting Sean Connery's Scottish burr, he lowered his voice an octave and rasped, "The name's Bond…James Bond."

Grinning from ear to ear, he bounced out of his chair and over to Gibbs' desk.

"So when do we start, boss?"

Gibbs looked up at him again, his face unreadable and his eyes a stony blue.

"We are not going undercover, DiNozzo," he said flatly. "You and McGee will continue the investigation from headquarters and keep us informed over the video feed."

In the shocked silence that followed, Tony's eyes flicked from Gibbs to Kate and back again, noting the blush that had suddenly filled her cheeks and the sudden tension in his boss's body language.

"Wait—you and…Kate? Going undercover? As a…a…"

"There's an officer's gala being held this weekend at the Four Seasons downtown. We'll be checking in this afternoon as Lieutenant Colonel and Mrs. Patrick Moore," Gibbs informed him expressionlessly. "Abby's fixing the IDs right now."

Tony looked from his two very embarrassed colleagues to McGee, whose mouth was opening and closing repetitively like a fish's. Then he tilted his head back and guffawed loudly.

"I can't believe this!" he crowed. "You and Kate are going to pretend to be married!! Ah, this is great! How many times does this make, boss? Four or five?"

Gibbs rose to his feet, eyes flashing.

"DiNozzo, if I hear one more word outta you…" he threatened, his voice lowering in a menacing growl. Tony prudently retreated out of range of a head slap, making every effort to appear appropriately contrite.

"Sorry, boss, just got a little…carried away. You know…" he apologized. Then his eyes lit up as he turned to Kate, delighted with his new victim.

"You know, Kate, you should really invest some time into making this a convincing cover," he said, an evil smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "There's a little lingerie shop over in Georgetown—sells the best bustier-garter combo I've ever seen. It's got these little bows strategically placed all over the front…"

Kate slumped over until her forehead thudded onto the top of her desk and groaned.