Gibbs was still fuming at Alex, and Tony and Ziva sat awkwardly in the car as the tense silence covered them all. Gibbs was driving more recklessly than normal, and Tony was doing all he could not to scream as his boss made a 45 degree turn. Ziva and Alex sat in the back, both calm and unaffected. Alex made no attempt to try to smooth things over with Gibbs, which left Tony wondering how things would turn out.

Tony knew that Boss was only this mad because he was worried about the safety of the kid, but the kid wasn't worried about his own. Gibbs hated cases that involved children because he felt that they did not deserve to have their childhood taken from them. And, since Alex was way more involved than most kids, Gibbs' outrage at his predicament spilled over into anger when the teen disobeyed orders and managed to get himself hurt, as evident by his swollen face and bleeding lip.

Once they got back, Gibbs still ignoring Alex, Tony and Ziva relayed the information they found to Dick. They explain how only the night clerk had seen Deathstroke and Damian, and the room had been paid for with cash and was empty the next morning. No one had seen anything and the room was clean.

"So, nothing, right?" Dick asked tiredly. He sighed and sat down in the chair he pulled next to Ziva's desk. Tony hesitated and nodded sadly.

"But don't worry, Boss, Dick," Tony added quickly, "we'll keep digging."

"I have something," Alex nonchalantly commented from his spot on the floor between McGee and DiNozzo's desk.

"What!?" the team practically all shouted at him, with the exception on Gibbs who just glared at him.

Alex grinned up at them as he pulled a crumpled piece of paper and a key from him pocket. He held them up like they were the Holy Grail. Tony came over and snatched both objects from Alex's hand.

"Hey," Alex protested, but he was ignored. Tim took the paper from Tony, and studied it.

"Boss, I think it's an account number," McGee said already walking over to his desk to run it through the system.

"What does the key unlock?" Ziva asked, looking down at Alex, who shrugged.

"How should I know? Why don't you ask Deathstroke?" he responded and Gibbs whirled around to face the teenager.

"These were Deathstroke's?" Gibbs thundered.

"Yep," Alex replied casually.

"How the hell did you get these, kid?"

"Nicked 'em," Alex told the lead agent as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He sighed and rolled his eyes at the shocked expressions on the agents' faces. "You people really doubt my spy skills," he muttered, huffing and crossing his arms in annoyance.

"How did you steal from a guy in spandex?" Tony questioned. "Wait, do I even want to know…"

"Sod off Tony," Alex testily shot back. "He wasn't wearing spandex; he was in black jeans and a collared shirt. So it was quite easy, for the record."

"When did you steal it?" Ziva inquired, impressed at the boy's skill.

"When I was in a head-lock and trying to get out of it," Alex answered, now fiddling with a pen he had snatched from Tony's desk. Dick sighed and threw up his hands.

"Of course you did," the Officer muttered. "God, no wonder you and Damian are friends—he'd probably do the exact same thing." Alex shot the adults a twisted smile.

"Is he going to know you stole it?" Gibbs sternly asked, calling attention to the possible trouble Alex could be in. The teen shrugged, indifferent, which only served to make Gibbs angrier. "Do you have any idea how much danger you could be in? Did you even think of the consequences?"

"I did, actually," Alex interrupted Gibbs, staring at him straight on. "He already knew what I looked like; he probably thinks I'm dead. The things I stole burned with the rest of my body. Look, problem solved."

Gibbs stared at Alex before storming off with an "I'm going down to Abby's." Dick looked around and noticed the three NCIS agents glaring at Alex.

"I'm going to outside to call Alfred and Tim for and update," Grayson announced hastily. "Be back soon." He walked off, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

Once the elevator doors closed, Tony sighed at Alex, "Nice job kid."

"I didn't do anything wrong!" Alex protested.

"You disobeyed orders and ended up almost dying," Tim explained. "How is that 'not doing anything?'"

"When you're a spy, you take risks," Alex defended himself.

"I did not take as many risks as you claim to," Ziva argued back. Alex rolled his eyes at her.

"Yeah, but since you were Mossad, you were probably sniping people left and right," Alex harshly replied. "No need to get your hands too dirty."

Ziva turned red, "You take that back!"

"Look," Alex jumped up and short to his feet, "I don't want to hear you complaining! I've almost died dozens of times! The only way I survived was by being reckless and risky. Besides—I got the information, so why do you care?"

The three agents were taken aback at Alex's anger. Hesitating, Tony finally spoke, "You were on the roof of a burning building—of course we care. Weren't you worried?"

"Escape from a burning building? Been there, done that," Alex told them as he tossed the pen back onto Tony's desk.

"Ha ha, that's funny," Tony retorted but paused in his mocking when Alex didn't respond but only proceeded to head toward the elevators. "Wait, you weren't being serious were you? Alex? Alex!" Tony called as the elevators closed on Alex giving Tony the finger with a wry smirk on his face. Stunned, Tony turned to face his teammates. "He wasn't being serious, was he?"

Ziva nodded solemnly, "I do believe that he was Tony."

"That kid isn't normal!" Tony exclaimed, throwing himself in his chair.

"What clued you into that?" Tim questioned sarcastically. "Was it when he snuck into the NCIS building, when he admitted he was a spy, when Vance recognized him, when he pickpocket a madman, when he—"

"Enough Probie!" Tony shot back. "I just wanted to make a statement…and make sure I wasn't crazy for thinking the kid's…unique."

Ziva made an un-lady sound, similar to a snort, "Unique is one way to describe him. I think he's been train to be like this since he was a baby. They have done it in the Mossad before."

"But he's not Mossad," Tony protested.

"I agree with Ziva," Tim began. "And I—wait, better get Boss, I have the account information."

"Calling Abby now," Tony announced, already dialing the lab.


Again, I apologize for the wait.

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