Gibbs blanked for a minute, taking the picture in his suddenly trembling fingers. "Jim?" His voice took on the volume of hers; just a mumble.

Mrs. Evenson's wet face cracked a small smile. "He doesn't go by that name anymore, but yes. That is my husband."

Disbelief wrapped its cold, clammy fingers around his insides, freezing them until it was hard to breathe. "But… he looked so different on his I.D."

"There was a bombing in Iraq—" her voice hitched and a fresh wave of tears rolled down her cheeks. "—he s-survived, but many oth-thers d-didn't. The blast scar-red him f-for life. I-I don't… he w-was nev-ver… th-the s-same…." A sob ripped through her chest.

Gibbs barely registered her words, so lost in his own bewildered thoughts. Right in front of his face. Right under his nose. All this time, he'd been searching…. Right under his freaking nose.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Jim Tommy Evenson.

How could he not have known? Of course Jim went by his middle name; it's what he himself had done. A memory forced its way into Gibbs's mind's eye, lost too long ago for him to recall on his own.

HR (line thingy)

One by one, the senior class proceeded across the stage in the high school gym, practicing for the actual graduation. Leroy flashed a grin at Jim as he stealthily snuck back to where Leroy had been positioned.

"How's life back in the G's?" Jim smirked mischievously, cutting ahead of Leroy.

"Suckish," Leroy replied simply.

"Well, I'm leaving then." Jim moved to return to his spot but Leroy grabbed his arm before he could.

"Hey." His voice caught and he tried to disguise the fact that he was emotional. Guys weren't supposed to be emotional. How lame.

"Yeah?" Jim didn't think anything of it; he never did.

"Promise me something."

"Oh, Leroy, it's just so sudden…." Jim placed his hand over his heart. "Yes. I'll marry you."

Leroy smiled, but brushed the comment off. "I'm serious."

"I know." They stepped forward.

"Promise we won't separate after high school?" Jeez. How gay did he sound right now?

Jim lifted his hand and balled it into a fist. Leroy followed suit. They touched knuckles and then clasped their hands around each other's, pulling their chests together with a familiar thump.

"Promise," Jim said, the playfulness totally absent from his eyes.

"Promise."

HR

Two weeks later, they'd been shipped off to separate bases, and it tore Gibbs apart. They'd been best friends since childhood. Never left each other's side. And now that he had a chance to get that back, he wouldn't let those bastards take it from him!

"Agent Gibbs?" Mrs. Evenson said anxiously, wondering what could make him stare so intently off into space.

Without removing his eyes from the spot on the wall they'd been glued to, he spoke with such rigidity that Mrs. Evenson felt like she'd misbehaved in some way.

"Jim was taken by a group of Madagascar terrorists. Their car was located a little while ago; it was a rental vehicle. After turning it in, they caught a flight to New York City. There were five people, including your husband." Finally, he brought his eyes to her, his expression so stony that she couldn't look away. "And I promise you. We will find him. Alive."

HR

Lunch time! DiNozzo's favorite part of the day. As the case had taken most of his lunch hour, he had only thirty minutes to walk the block to Starbucks and back.

"McGeek! Lunch time!" Tony patted McGee's shoulders playfully and headed for the door.

"Not now, Tony," McGee frowned, concentrating hard on his computer screen. "I'm on to something."

"What about you, Zi—?" He swiveled around like a dog chasing its tail.

She was gone. Again.

"Where'd she go?" he cried in befuddlement for the second time that day.

This time, Tony was bound and determined to uncover what was up with her. She'd been looking disturbed all day, and her stubborn self wouldn't tell him why! She must've gone out somewhere, he thought resignedly. But she couldn't have gone too far. Since he was headed there anyway, he decided to start his search at Starbucks. It wouldn't hurt. Leaving McGee to his nerdy self, Tony strutted outside, headed for the tan coffee shop down the street.

Golden rays shone down on his neck, warming his skin pleasantly after the chilly air conditioning in the office. He tilted his face upward to point toward the sun, letting its warmth bathe over him like a hot shower. Resenting the shade the instant he walked into Starbucks, he pouted a little and shuffled to the counter. After placing his order, flirting a little with the pretty blonde cashier, and tossing a twenty near the register, he leaned on his elbow and scanned the shop habitually. A startled cough hacked up his lungs and the cashier offered him a glass of water that he turned down with a wave of his hand.

How did she do that so fast?

Ziva sat in a far corner, way out of the public eye, grumbling some more into the speaker of her cell phone. So wrapped up in her conversation, she hadn't noticed Tony walk in. He sauntered smoothly away from the counter and slid into a chair right behind her, leaving Ziva completely oblivious to his presence. He tapped his fingers patiently on the table top.

"Daniel, there is nothing in me for you," she insisted pleadingly. "Please do not make this any harder than it already is."

Well, at least I got a name, Tony thought with satisfaction. Daniel, eh? Mossad, maybe. Pretty sure. Yeah, or else she wouldn't have been talking in Hebrew before.

After a long pause she responded, anger flaring up in her voice.

"If that is the way you want it, then fine. I will talk to my father, and everything will be clear. Shalom." She spat the last word at him and slammed her phone shut so hard that it flipped back open again. Closing it softer the second time, Ziva slowly turned around, a prickling feeling on her neck inherited from Mossad training alerting her of someone watching. There he was; Tony sitting right behind her. She restrained the urge to throw her arms around him and decided to be angry instead.

"Tony!" she cried.

"Tony is not available at the moment. Please leave a message after the beep. BEEP!"

"Are you following me?" she screeched.

"No, Zee-vah. Lunch time, remember? I merely came to get myself a nice cup of coffee, dear lady." He spoke with a deep, gentlemanly voice.

His playfulness made Ziva's insides glow, but her outsides grew tough. Mossad training had taught her not to show emotion, no matter what the situation. But she found that the longer she worked with NCIS, the weaker she became.

"So…." Tony spun in his chair so that his legs straddled the back and he leaned his arms on the very top of the black metal, grinning mockingly. "Who was that?"

She brushed her wispy black bangs out of her eyes and angled her face away from him, acting as if she needed something from her purse to avoid looking at him. "That is none of your business, Tony," Ziva replied, ice encasing her words.

His face fell into a very serious frown. "C'mon, Ziva. We both know there's something bothering you. You can tell me." Tony leaned forward and craned his neck to have a better view of her face, touching his fingertips gently to her jaw and guiding it to his. "You can trust me," he breathed softly, gazing at her with such sincerity in his eyes that she couldn't doubt him.

Still, she drew her bottom lip in with her teeth and bit down, hard. Inhaling through her nose, Ziva pulled away from him and got lithely to her feet. She snatched up her bag and turned away, glaring at the wall as she spoke. "Tony, there is nothing wrong. Just talking to an old friend. That is it."

She clutched the plastic cup of coffee and moved to the door, followed silently by Tony. The walk back to the office was shadowed by an uncomfortable quiet, like a cloud had descended on them and only them. Tony didn't attempt to bring sunlight through the cloud, because it wouldn't help at all.

Next time, he thought, scowling in grim determination.