This last bit is a little shorter than usual (and I definitely used a cop out at the end…) BUT it's up! AND I can finally get to the main plot and out of the endless holes of dialogue that are interviews. Thank y'all so much for your super nice reviews—they brought a huge smile to my face and definitely pushed me to get this done!

Not super important, but I made sure to use plants that are actually common/native to the DC area (it's actually a huge pet peeve when people mess that up; I love gardening and am maybe just a little bit a lot anal about that sort of thing). 4247 Jay Street is also actually for sale, although I definitely added my own twist to the house.

Gibbs' black Dodge Charger quietly pulled up to 4247 Jay Street. The grey-painted siding was faded and smudged, in need of either a thorough scrubbing or a new coat of paint. The ground floor windows were barred as well as the front door, and the awning covering the front door was crooked as if drunk. To the left of the door (and perhaps the reason for the leaning awning), was a wisteria vine climbing up the side of the house. While not in bloom, the spindly green leaves added warmth to the house's otherwise bleak visage. Complementing the wisteria, the front yard was bursting full of shrub rose and butterfly bush, both of which were still managing to bloom spectacularly despite the start of fall. The delicate white blooms and thick purple clusters bobbed in the breeze and were complimented by the low-lying flowers spread throughout the yard, some in bloom and some simply waiting for the coming winter.

It was clear that the house was well-loved and well-worn. Gibbs approached with reluctance.

Gibbs climbed up the concrete path with measured steps and gave the door two solid thumps before stepping back to wait. His knock was answered with a muffled "One minute!" and the sound of crashing kitchen pots and indistinct cursing. The door flew open, revealing a flustered Suzanne O'Malley, six months pregnant with her dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail, the fly-aways framing her round face. Her eyes were big for her face and hazel, framed by thick brows and high cheek bones. She had a nose that was just a bit large for her face and a soft, pouting mouth. Her generally delicate features were contrasted by her short stature and broad frame. She came up to a whopping 5'1'' and was of a sturdy build. She was wearing maternity-wear jeans and what would have been a loose top.

"Hi, do I know you?"

"No, ma'am. I'm special agent Gibbs from NCIS," here Gibbs flipped open his badge. "May I come in?"

Suzanne's eyes widened, obviously surprised to have a government agent paying her a visit, "Of course. Why are you here? Did something happen?" Even as she asked, Suzanne stepped out of the way, gesturing for Gibbs to enter her home.

Gibbs entered into a small entryway, with what appeared to be a simple but comfortable living room on the left and a kitchen straight ahead. There was a staircase across from the kitchen and a door leading to a closet or bathroom next to it. Suzanne led him into the kitchen. The tope walls and hardwood of the hallway shifted to a soft sage green and clean white tile. The window over the sink had a delicate white lace curtain and the sink was clear of dirty dishes. The white linoleum countertops were cluttered with assorted pots and pans, and other various cookware. The light brown cabinets were open and empty of their usual contents.

"Sorry about the mess, I was cleaning out the cabinets when you knocked. Scared the bejesus out of me," Suzanne commented with a slight blush. "Do you want something to drink? I have water, tea, coffee…"

"Coffee sounds great." Gibbs stood to the side of the kitchen, keeping his face carefully neutral.

Suzanne turned to dig out the coffee and coffee maker, "You never did tell me why you're here, Agent Gibbs."

"I just have a few questions about your husband, Andrew O'Malley," Gibbs carefully responded.

"Well," Suzanne managed to extricate her coffee maker and now moved to fill the pot with water, "he should be home any minute if you want to wait. He should be able to answer your questions better than I can."

"I'd like to hear what you have to say first, if you don't mind."

Suzanne cast him a concerned glance, "Okay… Fire away I guess."

Gibbs pulled out a pad and pen, "Do you know what your husband's plans for today were?"

Suzanne's brow scrunched up as she thought, "Well, he spends most Sundays around the house, when the shelter doesn't need him. But he got a call this morning, early—I was still in bed! He said that he needed to meet up with D, that it was important. He didn't say where though…"

"D? Who's that?"

At this Suzanne's face shifted into a smile, "D's not his real name—obviously. It's more of a nickname actually; he gives a different name every time you ask. They always start with a D though…. Andrew met him at the shelter and really bonded with him. He's a good kid, maybe 16; been here a few times for dinner. He's even stayed the night once or twice. He's polite, helps clean up the dishes, and snarky as hell. He's a riot!" Here Suzanne seemed to catch up with herself, "Why do you ask? Did something happen?"

"We'll get to that in a minute. Has Andrew been in any fights lately? Any threats or odd behavior?"

Suzanne's concern visibly grew. "Not that I'm aware of… Everyone likes Andrew. He doesn't have any enemies." The coffee pot beeped shrilly to indicate that the coffee was ready to serve. Suzanne grabbed a couple of mugs and filled them, handing one to Gibbs who muttered a quiet "thanks."

"We've had a bit of a hard time the last month or so; we lost half of our funding for the shelter thanks to some business mogul with friends in high places. But that's nothing personal…. Please, Agent Gibbs, what's wrong?"

"Mrs. O'Malley…"

"Suzanne, please."

"Suzanne. I'm sorry to inform you that your husband, Andrew, was found dead this afternoon."

The coffee mug smashed against the white tile.