Part two and the true beginning of Those Who Wander. ~ SamayouTamashi


The boy with no name sat in a chair by Gibbs' desk. Instead of spinning idly in half-circles, asking pointless questions or complaining about the cold, he was silently observing everything and everyone. This was what Ziva noticed at six in the morning. Despite the incredibly early hour and the dark circles beneath the teen's eyes, he had refrained from yawning or napping.

McGee, the smallest of the group, had given him a shirt and jeans to replace the blood-stained ones he had been wearing. They were a little big, but he didn't appear to mind in the least.

His hair was long, the former bangs now hanging in his eyes, as if he hadn't found the time to get it cut yet still had the time to wash it thoroughly.

Despite the unusual environment within the NCIS building, he wasn't nervous or fidgety. Other agents who sparked up conversations with him were surprised to find that he did not speak or think like any other teenagers they had met. He could carry on full debates with many of them over politics and win, making it appear that the boy had spent much of his time around people much older than him.

Yet Ziva still couldn't get over the most obvious spikes in his character.

Upon greeting all the agents at the crime scene, it had appeared as if he analyzed everyone before speaking to them. He easily smiled at both Dinozzo and McGee, meeting their questions with subtle moves to change the topic, but when Ziva moved to shake his hand, he met her eyes with a calculating gaze. Ignoring the outstretched hand, he gave a half-bow and said, "Shalom, Ms. David."

"How did you know my last name?" she angrily demanded.

The easy-going manner subsided into confusion once again. "I…I…your eyes were familiar, I think," he stuttered, backing away from her.

She wanted to ask him more questions, but Gibbs laid a calming hand on her shoulder. "Don't scare him more than he already is."

"I'm sorry. It's just-" she cut herself off. Frightening him off wouldn't answer any more of her questions.

This innocent teenager was not what he appeared, she concluded. Something in the way his eyes pierced to your soul and glinted with everything from sorrow to bloodlust wasn't natural. No teenager has eyes like that.


Gibbs had told McGee to drive the boy back to NCIS and get him a change of clothes and shower. He was in desperate need of both, by the looks of him. When all the work at the crime scene was finished, he would have Ducky take a look at him and assess how he could have gotten the memory loss.

For now, however, his crew-minus McGee-was currently working.

The dead man had been a marine by the name of Henry Rodriguez, judging by the dog tags around his neck. Ziva was reporting no signs of a struggle based on the appearance of the dirt around him. All that marked him as dead were the two bullet holes cleanly marked between his eyes. Tony was speaking with the local PD cops about the times of the reports that had come in. Comparing his results with Ducky's, it was evident that death had only come for this man about two hours ago.

As for the signs of the shooter, there were none. The sole footprints in the park were those left by Lieutenant Rodriguez and the boy with amnesia. Based on the evidence, the conclusion was fairly obvious. All of them knew, but none could believe that the teenager could possibly have done such a thing.

With the plane ticket in hand, Gibbs rounded up his crew and returned to NCIS.

They found McGee waiting outside the restrooms for the boy to change and wash off in the sink. The boy came out in clothes a little big on him with a guilty expression on his face as he walked over to Gibbs. "Did you find the weapon used to kill the guy?"

"No," he replied slowly. "Why?"

From his ankle, he pulled out a gun and handed it to Gibbs. "I found this holster around my ankle while I was changing, and the gun was still sort of warm." To the team's surprise, it didn't stop there. "I also found these." A holster from under his shirt held another gun, though it hadn't been fired recently. From the side of his leg were a long combat knife and a pair of throwing knives. "I think that was it."

Tony blinked before muttering, "The hell?"

Gibbs slapped him upside the head. "Language, Dinozzo," but he picked up the combat knife. "I know this make. Some of the SAS divisions in England carry these while they're in war zones in case they run out of ammunition."

Ziva took note of another one. "Those throwing knives are awarded to high-performing Mossad agents and aren't given lightly."

The boy was suddenly looked at in a different light. "Maybe he had a father working undercover, or something," McGee thought out loud.

He was left to sit on his own as Gibbs sent the rest of his agents to work on the case, giving them all assignments but leaving Ziva to make sure their witness didn't wander off. Ducky came in and out, taking the body down to autopsy and sending Palmer to Abby with the samples she was asking for. Despite the early hours that they all hated, a certain buzz of activity was making itself heard already. There was a sense of purpose in the agents' steps, the teenager noticed, even as they complained of all the work in front of them. Almost like...the memory faded as he frowned, trying to remember the person that had just come to mind however briefly.

Gibbs waved Ducky over as he came up from his examination room. "Duck, I need you to give this boy an exam if you wouldn't mind."

"Ahh, you must be the witness with amnesia then." The medical examiner's eyes lit up in that way that signaled an incoming memory as they shook hands. "That reminds me of this one young lady I met in-"

"The exam, Duck?"

"Right you are. Just come along with me." Ducky left with the teenager close on his tail. As the elevator doors closed behind them, Gibbs turned back to the rest of his crew. "McGee, what do you have for me on the lieutenant?"

Henry Rodriguez's files all appeared on screen as McGee listed off the information he had found. "Rodriguez has served in the Marines for twelve years now, about to reach thirteen. He has no immediate family, never married, and no apparent personal life except that he has a gambling addiction. As of September, he should have been stationed in Afghanistan."

"Then how did he wind up dead in D.C.?"

"I can't find any information that allowed for an early leave. All these documents," he gestured at the screen and his computer, "say that he is still in the Middle East."

Gibbs decided to switch routes and try the other side of the mystery. "And the plane ticket?"

Using the information on the boy's ticket, McGee had determined the time of arrival and the passenger list. "He arrived through Ronald Reagan Airport from Heathrow over a week ago. There were four boys on his flight, all of them accompanied by a guardian. Only one of them matched him however." A passport appeared on screen. "Alexander Rider. He was traveling business class with another man."

"Who was with him on the flight?" Gibbs asked.

A second passport popped up. "Benjamin Daniels, but based on all these documents here, boss, Daniels isn't his legal guardian."

"Then who is?"

"I-It's blocked. Someone's keeping me out of anything connected with the names Rider or Daniels."

Gibbs sighed. Another dead end. "Do you think you can make it through?"

"No. This would certainly take months, if not years, to get into and this is just the front door."

"All right. Dinozzo!"

"Yes, boss?" he stood up quickly, barely catching his coffee as it tipped forward. "Have Abby check the ballistics on Alex's gun to see if it's a match with the two bullets in our dead marine."

"Of course!"

Gibbs' phone rang as Tony left for Abby's subterranean lab. "Yes?"

"Jethro," a distraught Ducky answered. "You are going to need to see this."

"What is it?"

"It's…not something I can easily explain. Have Ziva come too. She may be able to explain some of what I'm seeing."

"I'll be right down." He hung the phone up and called for Ziva to follow him. "McGee. Find out where Rider and Daniels went after they got off that plane. Maybe this Daniels can explain some of this for us." The elevator doors clinked shut after he stepped in.

The two were met by the sight of a nervously pacing Ducky and Alex standing out of his way. "Alexander John Rider," Gibbs told Alex, who turned quickly to meet his eyes. "We believe that is your name."

"It sounds right," he smiled, "and I'm happy to know something about myself."

"But there's even more than we could have guessed, Jethro," Ducky spoke up as he stopped pacing. "Could you take off your shirt again, Alex?"

With a slight hesitation, he slid the borrowed shirt off over his head. Gibbs felt as some of the shock registered on his face, and Ziva took a hesitant step back. "Is that…?" Alex refused to meet any of their eyes, looking away almost shamefully.

Ducky stated the fact they couldn't voice for themselves, "That is a bullet scar. Not only that, but it was a professional sniper, and an excellent one at that, who almost got him straight through the heart. This was no accident, but an assassination attempt we are looking at."

Gibbs found his voice again, as he asked, "What did you need Ziva to look at?"

"These," he pointed to fainter scars lining the remainder of Alex's torso and arms. "As far as I can tell, none of these are left over from surgeries. Two of the smaller ones on his shoulder are from gunshots as well. This one," a long jagged line over his stomach, "would appear to have been from a medical scalpel, but not for health purposes. Someone tried to gut him. A couple of the thin ones are from sharp objects as well. This one, however, I cannot identify."

He had Alex turn so that Ziva could see the reddish bruise-like patterns running along his spine and shoulder blades. She got close enough to see the circular markings deeply ingrained in his skin. "I've only seen these once, but I must be mistaken."

"What do you think they are," Gibbs asked curiously, but realizing it wasn't going to be pleasant based on the previous scars.

"Brandings. They almost look like brandings I've seen in torture camps in the Middle East, but the skin wouldn't have healed this neatly if he had been branded."

Ducky nodded suddenly as a revelation struck him. "Unless of course skin grafts had been put on over the wounds to allow for a faster and cleaner healing. It would account for the slightly paler skin."

"Can I put a shirt back on?" Alex murmured quietly.

"Of course." Gibbs covered his both horrified and sad expression with one of understanding. "You and Ziva go ask about the ballistics report while I finish up here."

Alex was fingering the hem of his shirt as he peered nervously back at the two before following Ziva to meet Abby.

Gibbs turned back to Ducky. "If you had to do a psych evaluation on him, how would you put it, Duck?"

"Jethro…he's beyond traumatized already. I would have to place my bets on that whatever happened in the park shut him down entirely. The amnesia is his mind's last line of defense, erasing his memories when he could no longer deal with them."

Gibbs turned away, indecisive about where to go now. He pinched his nose and looked to the ceiling. "Then what do I do, Duck. I need to know who he is to finish this investigation, but what if I bring back those memories he needs to forget? Neither way is right or wrong."

"You follow your heart, Jethro, as you've always done," the medical examiner consoled him. "With the right help, the memories won't destroy him. Rather, they will help him grow."

"Thanks, Duck."


Abby was, of course, a very huggy person. The minute Alex took the last step down, he suddenly found himself incased in a strong pair of arms. Instincts he didn't remember told him to get out, but he suppressed them as fast as they came.

"You must be Alex!" the chipper voice of Abby said. "Tony didn't tell me how absolutely adorable you are!"

"Abby, you're going to suffocate him," Tony spoke up, with a trace of laughter in his voice.

"Sorry!" She stepped back, and Alex could see the Gothic forensics analyst more clearly. Her long black hair was swept into two pigtails on each side of her head and she was wearing a black lace shirt with black jeans. A spike collar around her neck seemed almost normal with the outfit.

Ziva stood with her arms crossed beside the pair of computers in Abby's lab. "What do you have, Abby?"

"I can't tell you guys yet," she complained, "or then I'd have to repeat it again for Gibbs!"

"Already here Abbs," came a voice behind her. She spun around to catch the Caf-POW! he handed her.

"Right on time, as usual." She sat down in her chair and pushed off to land perfectly in front of her computer. "So the ballistics report came in, and it's a perfect match to the gun you gave me. So all we have to do it pull the prints off it and…" she trailed off as everyone looked somewhat guilty. "What? Isn't it great that you have an easy open and closed case?"

"It's okay," Alex touched her shoulder. "They just didn't believe that I could have killed someone."

Her eyes widened and he noticed that it didn't appear she believed her own results either. "But you're really sweet and adorable and you couldn't possibly hurt someone!"

Another flash of memory seemed to come to him and he shook his head sadly. "I don't think that's true."

"Aww, don't give me those puppy dog eyes. Someone needs a hug!"

He sighed, sensing a trend, but complied as she put her arms around him.

"What else do you have, Abbs?"

"Oh!" She scooted her chair back into place and tapped at a couple keys on her keyboard to bring up the particles she had been inspecting. "Not only has your lieutenant been in D.C. when he wasn't supposed to be, but based on some of the particles I found in his shoes and hair, he's also been in Japan, North Korea and Russia within these past few months." She spun around to look at Gibbs. "The one place he hasn't been recently is Afghanistan. I doubt he was ever there at all."

"Good job, Abbs." Another Caf-POW! appeared mysteriously on her desk and he gave her a peck on the cheek.

"He likes me best," she winked at Tony and Ziva, who were already painfully aware of this.


As the elevator released the team plus Alex on to the main level, Gibbs was already handing out assignments.

"Ziva, tell me what Rodriguez was doing in Japan, North Korea and Russia when he should have been in Afghanistan. He had to have purchased plane tickets or something to get back and forth.

"Tony, check the contacts on his cell phone. If he has no family, then tell me who he did contact. Give me friends, enemies, and anything in-between.

"McGee, what do you have for me so far?"

"Not much, boss, but I might have the hotel Daniels is in right now. He's listed as Matt Hamer, but his credit card is registered to Joseph Wiles which is connected to a bank account registered to Benjamin Daniels."

"Give me the hotel he's staying in. Dinozzo, you and McGee are with me. Ziva, find what Rodriguez was bouncing around so much for." Tony grabbed the keys Gibbs tossed his way. Letting Gibbs drive was a sign of the end of the world and Ziva's driving could very well bring on the apocalypse. Neither of them liked to pay much attention to the little things, like road signs and stop lights. It could make for an interesting ride.


Daniels was apparently doing well off, with a hotel in the nicest part of D.C., and a room on one of the top floors.

Gibbs flashed his NCIS ID badge to the receptionist at the front desk, who was quick to give them her master key. Tony pounded on the door, shouting "NCIS, open up!" as he did. There was a shuffle of feet from the inside as a voice called out, "Hold on, I'm coming," followed by the rapid coughs of a silenced gun and a sharp cry.

"Dinozzo, get that door opened now!" Tony stumbled to get the card in and unlock the door as McGee and Gibbs got their guns pulled out and aimed straight ahead.

To Tony's surprise, the door opened on its own before he had finished pulling the master card out. "Sorry about that," a tall lanky man with hair ruffled from sleep apologized in a wry tone. "I didn't expect to have so many visitors at the-" He stopped and looked at the teenager partially hidden behind Gibbs. "Alex?"


A/N: To start, an imaginary cookie to SwedenBabe, who correctly guessed that the title is derived from a poem in the Lord of the Rings (LOtR).

Next, I'm so happy that everyone likes my storyline so far. Ironically, my twin is working (but not yet publishing) a similar story for Fullmetal Alchemist with NCIS. We've split credit for the idea between both of us since we can't remember who thought up the plotline first. Personally, I think it was me, but with our telepathy, we have no proof one way or the other. Once she begins posting hers, I'll put up a link on my profile for anyone interested in how hers goes. A hint: It's going to be hilarious!

Lastly (is that a word?), I am here to inform you that this one will be much longer than either Safehouse or Favor. I can't even plot out this entire story yet, and already I've laid out the next two chapters. For those who demanded a longer story, here you go!