Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: In the previous "chapter" remember the blood transfusions.

And a fun little note- in my novel, the FBI agent's name is actually Jacob Cross, his partner, who in this is Tony, is named Alexander "Alex" De Laurentis, Director Wilcox in my novel is Director Vance in this, and Gibbs- well, when I wrote the leader of the team, Agent Monroe- he was almost a carbon copy of Gibbs in personality. I just... never realized how much until now...

Maybe posting this isn't such a good idea... actually, maybe I should just scrap the whole thing and not even consider sending it to my agent/editor. I mean, I wrote it when I was ten, I knew virtually nothing about... any of this, and it was more for my own enjoyment. It even reads like a ten-year-old wrote it! I thought back then that I had better writing skills than that. Oh well, guess not.

I wrote it in 1999, for crying out loud!

Sorry, minor meltdown...

Thanks to Reader for reviewing 2.

1981, Late November, NCIS Headquarters

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the news. On every channel, every station, was something about the bombing that had taken place in the Northern District of Israel the day before. The papers were filled to the brim with the subject, and the agent couldn't help being reminded of the 'Canadian Caper' nearly eleven months earlier, when Canadian and American efforts were combined to free the fifty-two hostages taken by the Iranians at the American Embassy. Just as soon as everyone was beginning to breathe a sigh of relief, this had to happen.

"Morning, Tim." He looked up from the paper as Leroy Jethro Gibbs entered, a cup of coffee held tight in his grasp.

"Morning, Boss." Gibbs took a seat at his desk as Tim returned to the paper, casting a glance towards the older man. Gibbs was known for being a man of very few words, and even fewer emotions. A bitter, nasty divorce two years prior had ripped the man's children from him; the courts ruling in favor of his ex-wife and her new husband to raise the former couple's two children. So he chose not to get close to anyone but Jack and Evan- two of his favorite guys, simply for the fact that they didn't try to ruin his reputation like his wife had. It was a well known fact that Gibbs kept a small flask of Evan Williams on him at all times; only occasionally swapping Evan out for Jack Daniel's.

Tim glanced at his boss again; the older agent's head was bent over something on his computer. A sigh escaped his lips, and he sat back, the paper momentarily forgotten, along with the news splashed across the front. Gibbs had always been a mystery to him- and the rest of the agents at NCIS- one that everyone was a little afraid to solve. With his greying hair- turned, the rumor was, during his combat days in Korea- and those piercing blue eyes, the man cut a menacing figure, despite his average height. "Something you need, Tim?" Gibbs had raised his head, blue eyes locking on Tim.

"No, Boss, just thinking."

"About?" Tim bit his lip, before glancing at the TV in the corner of their small bullpen office, where news of the bombing at the Inter-Peace Conference between the Israelis and Americans had been taking place. After a moment, he got up, going towards it, crossing his arms as he watched the goings-on onscreen. "Terrorists, they think. Possibly members of the PLO."

"The ones responsible for Munich?" He turned, meeting Gibb's gaze as the man joined him. The Korean vet nodded. "I thought Mossad took care of all of them." Gibbs shrugged.

"Not even Mossad is perfect, Tim." As Gibbs returned to his desk, Tim turned his attention back to the screen. So far, from what the media was reporting, the death toll was around fifty, but would no doubt climb towards the hundreds by the time the smoke cleared. As the elevator opened and Tony walked out balancing three cups of coffee and a bag of pastries, Tim grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.

"Morning, McGee." The younger agent turned as Tony joined him, holding out a cup of coffee, bought from the coffee shop around the corner. With a silent nod, he returned to his desk, gaze going back to the newspaper he'd been looking at before Gibbs had shown up. Tony settled at his desk, cracking his neck as he turned his computer on and waited for it to start. But instead of snapping at him to stop it like Tim did most mornings, he let it slide, the normalcy of the action bringing comfort that he knew wouldn't last.

American Navy personnel had been killed in this attack; sailors, admirals, captains, as well as several diplomats and various military personnel. It was only a matter of time before NCIS was called in to investigate the attack, and bring those responsible down. An hour passed with only cold cases passing over their desks; the clicking of computer keys and the constant reporting of the attack playing over and over again on the TV.

Eventually, however, the team was called up to the director's office. They stood before Vance's desk, waiting for him to give his orders; he watched them, studying each, seeing the heartbreak in their eyes that he was certain were in his when he heard the news of the attack. Silently, he stood, pulling out a file and handing it to Gibbs. Then, without any sort of flourish, he broke the silence.

"Pack your bags. You're going to Israel."

Tim and Tony shared a startled glance, but silently slipped out of the room with a nod to Vance. Once they were gone, Gibbs spoke up. "Why us, Leon?" The director perched on the edge of his desk, folding his hands.

"You're the best team I have, Gibbs. I wouldn't trust anyone else on this mission except for you. I know you'll get the job done, and that you'll take into consideration the lives lost, and make sure none of them died in vain. And I know, that despite your reservations, you'll work closely with Mossad, because you'll need each other on this case. I wouldn't turn this case over to anyone but you, Gibbs."

Meeting Vance's eyes, the Team Leader glanced down at the folder and then slipped out of the room, silent.