A/N: The implausible ridiculousness continues.


Typically Gibbs had the ability to read emotions on people as easily as if they were books. Not even books; tabloids. That's how easy it was. It was just a gift you picked up after so many years of interrogating people. He'd never admit it, but in particular he prided himself on his ability to know what his agents were thinking, often before even they did themselves.

That's why it troubled him so to see Kate looking at him so blankly. So unreadable. Just to be safe, he repeated what he'd just told her.

"Jane Rizzoli. Boston Homicide."

Kate opened her mouth, then clamped it shut again. When she did speak, her voice was low and trembling. "What do you want me to do?" At the question, Gibbs raised his eyebrows, which only seemed to aggravate her more. "What should I do?"

"About what?"

"Jane Rizzoli! She just asked me on a date!"

Gibbs' voice was curious, but betrayed no other emotion. "Do you want to go?"

Wait, this face he could read: flabbergasted. "What?"

He couldn't help smiling a little at her expression—which was, frankly, adorable. A word he had not ever associated with Caitlin Todd. He repeated the question.

Still flabbergasted. A little panicked. Wary of saying the wrong thing.

"She's—well, th-this could be awkward, Gibbs. I mean, we're taking over her case. She's BPD. We're—you know! And…" Gibbs was giving her that look, the one usually directed at Abby or McGee when they went rambling on too long with their technical jargon. Her voice was weaker, even as she tried to make a definitive stance, like her last point was the strongest. "Besides, Gibbs …she's a… a woman."

Quietly, one more time, somewhere between impatient and exasperated: "Kate. Do. You. Want. To. Go?"

She squirmed under Gibbs' direct gaze. He didn't usually make her feel this nervous. "It's always nice to feel wanted, isn't it?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

Gibbs smiled encouragingly, and it was disarming. "Yeah?"

She braved a cautious grin. "Yeah."

Gibbs' smile disappeared instantaneously. "No."

Kate's jaw dropped. "Gibbs!"

"Has Abby gotten the results of the DNA yet?" From the computer, Abby was sorry to answer negatively. "Well, wait to hear back. You can't date a suspect, Agent Todd; I don't care how much of a stud Abby thinks she is."

"And if it turns out we have no reason to suspect her?" Kate asked.

Gibbs shrugged. "Your choice, Kate." And he headed out the door.

Once he was gone, Kate turned back to the computer. "Abby, Gibbs is right. She could be a suspect. And besides, like I said, it's…" Unconsciously she pulled her crucifix necklace out from under her shirt and started playing with it. Nervous habit. "She's a woman!"

"Yeah, a hot one who's totally into you! And it kinda seemed like you were into her, too."

"I am—I was—but what if it was a fluke?" Kate asked anxiously. "I mean, I was in a lesbian bar! There was mood music and low lighting and alcohol—"

"Um, which you didn't drink…"

"—yeah, but the mood was set! The dating mood! So don't you think that could be part of this?"

Abby shrugged and frowned thoughtfully. "Well… yeah. I mean I guess that that's happened to me. You go to a bar, meet a cute guy, fool around a little. But then you wake up the next morning in his Batmobile-shaped bed, and you're like 'whoa, cool bed! Whoa, tool of a guy!' Or you didn't go home with him for whatever reason, but you liked him. But then he texts you the next day you're just like 'ew.' You know?"

"Right, so…"

Abby held up her arms in a gesture that relayed how do you not get this? "So? When you saw that Jane Rizzoli had gone to the trouble of finding your profile and hitting you up for a date, were you like 'ew,' or… 'ooh'?"

Kate had to laugh at the little shoulder shimmy Abby had done on that last word. "Well…"

She looked up when she heard a scuffle at the door. Her first instinct was to reach for her gun, but she huffed in annoyance when it turned out just to be Tony and McGee. Sounding as if he had run a mile, Tony asked, "So? Kate, you a lesbian yet?"

"Dammit, DiNozzo, keep me out of your sleazeball fantasies!"

Tony batted his eyelashes with faux innocence. "Why do you think being a lesbian is sleazy, Agent Todd?"

"I don't. You do. Someday maybe you'll realize that the lives of same-sex couples revolve around sex just as much or as little as heterosexual couples do—and while I realize that yeah, Tony, sex is the only thing that matters to you, it is incredibly demeaning and inappropriate for you to keep cracking jokes about this at my expense. And I'm not going to tolerate it anymore."

Giving him a shove to get out of her way, Kate stomped out of the room. Tony whistled. "Is it just me, Probie, or is Kate acting a little sensitive about this?"

"Sitting down and eating my sandwich now," McGee said. "Oh, Kate forgot to get—" He looked up when Kate banged the door back open, stalked over, and snatched the sandwich out of his hand. "Uh, Kate?" he said feebly as she was already walking back to the door. "That one was actually mine."

"Tell it to someone who cares, McGee!"

"Don't take it personally, Timmy," Abby said once Kate had slammed the door behind her. "She's um, got a bit going on."

"Apparently," McGee sighed, opening the box that held the Caesar salad Kate had ordered.

"Any hits from the DNA yet?" Tony asked.

"Nada."

"Well darn it! Kate may have to just keep going back to that lesbian bar until we find a match!"

"We knew it was a long shot going in, Tony," Abby said with a smile.

"Yeah, but does that mean we should give up? I don't think so. Justice waits for no man, Abby. Or lesbian."

Gibbs came barging through the door next, and Tony tossed him a sandwich. "DiNozzo, you and I are going to BPD to get a copy of the file they started on this case."

"Is Kate comin'?"

"That depends," Gibbs said, looking down at the computer. "Abs, have you gotten anything back about Detective Rizzoli's DNA?"

"Not yet," Abby said.

"Wait," Tony gasped, looking at the tab which still had Jane's profile open. "Is she—she's a cop?"

"Oh yeah, you weren't here for that conversation," Abby chuckled.

Tony straightened up. "Boss, I'd like to volunteer Kate to continue her undercover operation, possibly pursue a date or two with Detective Rizzoli. She seemed mighty suspicious to me the other night. All… you know, shifty and everything. She could be dirty. If she's kept in the dark about Kate being a cop, we could maybe get some useful information. Or—or, she could be really upset that we're swooping in and taking this investigation away from her. What if she tries to hide something, just to press her advantage on this case? Maybe she'd divulge to a girl she was trying to impress."

Gibbs stared at him, knowing full well Tony just wanted an excuse to be privy to a date between Jane and Kate. "You finished, DiNozzo?"

"You…don't think it's a good plan."

The response came from Abby: "Definitely not. Detective Rizzoli's DNA isn't a match."

McGee, who had been quietly at his computer in the corner resuming the work he'd started that morning, said, "Uh, boss? You might want to see this." Gibbs and Tony crossed the room to look at McGee's screen (and Abby craned her neck in attempt to see, before remembering she couldn't get a glimpse unless someone carried the laptop over). "See this guy?" McGee said. "Patrick Doyle, a pretty tough Irish mob boss, famous in Boston."

"Pretty tough?" Gibbs asked, his raised eyebrows an unspoken request for more information.

"He's wanted for several brutal murders," McGee said.

"Aw, you mean he isn't one of those gentle mob boss murderers?" Tony asked.

Gibbs slapped them both upside the head. "Point, McGee?"

"Detective Rizzoli put him in jail a few months ago, but he broke out. One of his first orders of business was to regain control over the docks where Petty Officer Barnes' body was found."

"What's this guy's M.O.?" Gibbs asked.

"Ice pick."

"We never found the murder weapon used on Barnes."

"Doesn't look like he's ever killed women before," McGee said. "Maybe he didn't want to broadcast it by using his M.O."

"Well if he's never killed women before and his signature wasn't there, maybe he wasn't involved," Tony said, using a tone that might have indicated he was talking to a five-year-old.

"Maybe he's never killed a woman because he never had to before," Gibbs. "Don't rush with absolutes, right Abs?"

"Right!" she chirped from the other side of the room.

"One more thing," McGee said, opening another tab. "There was a big blow-out when Rizzoli put Doyle in prison, because it um… it turned out Doyle was the biological father of her best friend, Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner."

Tony and Gibbs both leaned closer, and Tony's eyes went wide. "Um, Probie? Did you really just take the time to Photoshop a picture of Kate with blonder hair? For why?"

"That's not Kate, it's Maura Isles," McGee insisted. "I know they look kinda similar—"

"Kind of similar?" Gibbs scoffed. "They're twins!"

A new voice startled the special agent, emanating from a blocked window on McGee's computer. "Oh, I assure you, Jethro, Agent Todd and Dr. Isles are not in any way related."

"Ducky?"

"Timothy got in touch to see if I had received Dr. Isles' autopsy report yet," Ducky explained. "I went to pick it up as you and Tony were, I take it, discussing other items of business with Abigail."

"Did you see a picture of this Dr. Isles?" Tony asked. "It's kinda freakin' me out. Like Kate's doppelganger or something."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Tony," Ducky said with a chuckle. "Doppelgangers refer to spirits of people, typically those who have passed on. No; what we seem to have here is a case of a lookalike, an interesting but not altogether uncommon phenomenon. Did you know that Charlie Chaplin once lost a Charlie Chaplin lookalike contest in 1922? He didn't even make it to the finals!"

"Or wait," Tony said. "Like Dave? Kevin Kline, Sigourney Weaver? President's assassinated, so they hire a lookalike to step in."

"Or Star Wars: Phantom Menace?" McGee offered.

"Excuse you, McGeek. As far as I'm concerned, that movie was never made."

"I'm just saying—they didn't just use Natalie Portman twice in that. She played Queen Amidala, and when the character was supposed to be the double, she was played by Keira Knightley."

"What?! No way. How'd you know that? Did you actually sit through that movie with a director's commentary or something?"

Gibbs slapped the back of Tony's head. "Or he read the credits, DiNozzo, stay on point here. Both of you!"

"Right—boss, I was just thinking here," McGee said. "It looks as if Rizzoli was investigated after Doyle wound up in prison. She may've known Dr. Isles was Doyle's daughter, and kept quiet in the past when she knew he was in town."

"A-ha!" Tony cried. "So she might still know something!"

"Who might still know something?"

The three men turned around to see Kate had joined them again. "Your ears burning, Kate?" Gibbs asked. He nodded at the screen. "You may be going on a date tonight after all."

"With Detective Rizzoli?" Kate asked, trying to keep the hopefulness out of her voice.

"Do you think she likes being called Detective in bed?" Tony asked McGee. "Do you think she uses handcuffs? OW!" he yelled, when Kate kicked his foot. "What?! That wasn't speculation about you, Puritan Polly, it was about Rizzoli."

"It's still fetishizing someone based on their sexuality," Kate pointed out.

"No, her job."

"Which isn't dissimilar from your job, Tony. How would you like it if people jumped to conclusions like that about you based only your line of—you know what, never mind. I think I know how you'd feel about that." She sighed and turned her back on Tony, facing Gibbs. "What's this about a date?"

"Read that," Gibbs said, pointing to the online article McGee had pulled up. "Just the headline."

"Wait," Kate sighed. "Are you serious? What, you want me to go out with her in the hopes that, on a first date, she'll tell me she's on the payroll of one of Boston's most notorious killers?"

"Not on the first date, no," Gibbs said casually. "So make it a good one. You're a trained investigator, Kate. Trained profiler. I don't care if Rizzoli's been cleared by her own people, I want her checked out by mine."

"Oh I think she's already been checked out by one of your people," Tony said.

Kate elbowed him in the gut.

Gibbs continued: "You'll find a way to bring up Doyle. Maybe through his daughter. Get a read on Rizzoli's reaction. In the meantime, DiNozzo and McGee will be helping me scare up some other leads." He nodded at Tony. "You two. Get your gear and bring the car up." They left at once, and Gibbs closed the laptop before crossing the room, saying goodbye to Abby, and closing that one as well. "Kate. Call Rizzoli and take her up on that date. It'll make our jobs easier if she's in a good mood when we get to BPD. Afterwards, I want a full report on Patrick Doyle—anything you can find besides his dock that could make him a suspect in this case."

"On it," Kate sighed, picking up the slip of paper where she'd jotted down Jane's number.

With his hand on the doorknob, Gibbs said, "And Kate."

"Gibbs?"

"No need to mention you're NCIS."

She grinned at him. "Never would've guessed you wanted me to keep it under wraps." He smiled and rolled his eyes before walking out the door. Kate's smile fell a little with nerves as she got out her phone and dialed Jane's number. Because it's my job. This is what I have to do.


"Hey, Maura, got a second?"

Maura checked her watch. "I have approximately three hundred and sixty seconds, actually. Before my meeting with Lieutenant Cavanaugh, that is. How can I help you, Jane? Is it about the kooks?"

Jane glanced around to make sure nobody else was there before shutting Maura's door. "They're called spooks, Maura, and it only applies to CIA agents, not all feds," she chuckled. "Anyway, it's not about that. You um, you've been taken on—uh …I need a recommendation for a restaurant."

"What kind?"

"A nice one. I mean, not like too nice, but one that doesn't use paper napkins, y'know?"

"Expanding your culinary catalogue?" Maura asked. "What's the occasion?"

"Um… I've got a date. And I wanna go someplace … someplace nicer than I usually go, I guess."

"You're choosing the venue?" Maura sounded surprised. "Well, that's refreshingly against stereotype; generally men are the ones who do the asking and therefore the choosing when it comes to deciding where a first date should be. And I'm going to hypothesize that this is a first date, as you haven't mentioned seeing anybody lately." She raised her eyebrows when Jane averted her gaze, kneading her hands. "Is he someone I know?"

Jane breathed out quickly. "Uh, no."

"How did you meet?"

"At a bar. Last night."

"Oh."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Maura…" Jane leaned over Maura's desk, putting her hands down on either side of the folder Maura was pretending to be extremely interested in. "You 'oh'-ed. Tell me why you 'oh'-ed."

With a sigh, Maura leaned back in her chair. "I noticed you seemed unusually, well, chipper this morning. And not even putting up a fight when NCIS asked to take over the investigation of Petty Officer Barnes? I was wondering if something had happened last night to put you in a complying mood."

"Hey, if that's some crack about how I'm usually not compliant—well, okay."

Maura waited for more, such as who this mystery date might be, but Jane said nothing else. "Well," she said slowly. "You could try Le B—"

"No. Nothing French."

Rolling her eyes, Maura muttered something that sounded like you are so prejudiced. "Jane, why don't you just do an Internet search? Our tastes are so dissimilar, you're bound to find something just as easily yourself, and something with your ideal price range and napkin material."

"Yeah, but anyone could just google. I wanna tell her that I…" She felt her face drain color when Maura's eyes shot back up to her, wide and shocked. "Um, I wanted to—uh, we… I…"

"Jane?" Maura said, her voice a little strangled. "Did you ask a woman out on a date?"

Quick. Tell her you misspoke. Tell her you met a nice guy somewhere. Tell her it was a joke! Ha, ha! But Jane remained silent as her face, unbidden, started to get red. If she'd really wanted to keep a lid on this, she would have been able to. These weren't feelings she could keep pinned down anymore; she'd crossed that line by going to the Merch. Those one-night stands hadn't been flukes physically, they just hadn't led to Jane finding someone she wanted to really try asking out yet. Kate was that first person, and it felt like an exciting step. If things went wrong—hell, if they went good—it would be great to have someone she could talk to about it. Someone who wasn't her mother.

"Promise not to say a word to Ma?" Jane asked. "Or Frankie, or the guys, or… anyone else?"

"Of course," Maura replied, her voice soft, even as her heart was racing. "I would never betray your trust, Jane."

"I, um…" She didn't need all the details, maybe not yet. One step at a time, Rizzoli. "I met this woman last night, and uh, we really kinda hit it off. And so I figured, I dunno, what the hell, give it a shot. And she said yes. So here we are." She shrugged. "Might be something, might be nothing. I just figured maybe I'd give it a go."

Maura smiled. "Well! Jane, I have to say, I applaud your continental approach to this. It's very admirable."

"Not yet," Jane snorted. "Not till I feel like I can tell my parents about it. Or Ma, anyway. Not like Pop checks in anymore."

Nodding to herself, Maura got to her feet. "Yes—well, um. All right. I need to go."

"What? I used up my three hundred sixty seconds already?"

"I need a hundred and twenty of them to get to Cavanaugh's office, so yes," Maura responded, already at the door. "Open my top drawer, Jane, and you'll find a local Zagat guide. I've dog-eared the pages with my favorite restaurants, and there are notes in the margins detailing what I liked about each place."

"Sweet!" Jane laughed, jumping around to the other side of the desk. "You're the best, Maura! Seriously though, thanks."

Maura nodded, understanding it was a thank you for her discretion as well as for help with the restaurants. "Of course, Jane. What are friends for?" She twisted the knob, but before opening the door asked, "Would you tell me her name?"

Jane looked up from the Zagat guide, a crooked grin on her face. "Kate. Kate Todd."