Author's Note:

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm a horrible, horrible person, leaving you guys hanging like I have! Really I am. After Spain, everything just got so crazy, but finally things seem to have settled down a little, and hopefully I can post with more frequency.

Please read and enjoy, and don't forget to let me know what you think. Thanks for all the reviews so far. I love to hear from you guys.

"Why are we even bothering with this? The minute the FBI gets wind, they're going to swoop in and steal it off us anyway."

James Middleton's voice rang out through the suddenly bustling police station, the senior detective pretending to struggle up out of the deep chair into which he'd sunk only minutes before, before collapsing back, far too 'tired' to move. He supposed it wasn't the biggest deal in the entire world, getting called in this early on a Wednesday morning. He knew he probably would have been thrilled by the sheer nerve it took to dump a body on the steps of the J Edgar Hoover building had it not been for that fact that the case would be stolen from them in less than a minute when the city awoke to this new travesty.

"Come on! Get off your ass and do your job!"

His young partner, Detective DiNozzo, had been working there for only four short months, and already he was bossing the rest of them around like he was in charge. Granted, he was damn good at his job – the reason why the force had jumped at the chance hire him in the first place – and he certainly knew his way around a crime scene. Points against him... Well there was the fact that he'd left NCIS, but despite the fact that from what he'd gathered it hadn't been the easiest parting of ways – he could still remember the chill they'd all experienced the first few weeks after that encounter with his former boss – the Chief knew the particulars and didn't seem overly bothered. In fact, he and DiNozzo were practically the best of mates already, which considering their gruff, hard to please boss, was something of a miracle...

... or a sign of the apocalypse.

"Okay, okay! I'm coming," he grouched, dragging his ass out of his chair and following the younger man from the room.

"Time of death is between approximately nineteen and twenty one hundred last night," Ducky informed the taciturn statue he called his boss, eyes moving to find those of the other man. "By the looks of it, I'd say gunshots to the chest as the cause of death, but the others are just as likely so. I won't be able to be sure until after we get him to autopsy."

"Get the Petty Officer out of here, Ducky."

Ducky just nodded, shooting a brief glance at Tony, a detective now, standing with his partner by the police cruiser, the older one gesticulating wildly, and obviously recounting his feelings on their being replaced on this investigation. Tony kept his cool – though he refused to look over at those he'd once worked with – nodding his head at whatever his partner was saying, speaking calmly to the man and managing to soothe him with whatever words he'd chosen to speak.

"Are we ever going to get him back, Jethro?" Ducky asked on a sigh, sad eyes watching the former Special Agent.

Gibbs glanced over his shoulder at his former colleague, before turning back to his medical examiner. "I don't know, Ducky," Gibbs offered, his tone blank, emotionless, as it always was.

"We all miss him," Ducky offered. "Abby most especially." He turned back to the body of the petty officer that lay sprawled to one side of the building's main office doors.

Abby Sciuto had been the most vocal about Tony's leaving, and it was clear that she laid the blame for the event solely at the feet of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Where once she had been animated and vivacious around the older man, she now barely gave him the time of day, and several times had refused to acknowledge his presence at all, and Gibbs' gruff denial of any responsibility for the situation was doing nothing to mend the once close friendship.

"She'll move on."

Ducky just gave his long time friend a look of wry seriousness. "If you believe that, Jethro, then clearly you've misplaced those instincts you're so well known for."

"He doesn't want to come back."

Ducky sighed, shaking his head. "He does. You just have to give him a chance."

"It's a good way to get attention real fast," Tony was saying to his partner, studiously ignoring his old team as they bustled around the crime scene that had been in the hands of the MPDC a short half an hour ago. "Or a really pointed way to let the FBI know you mean business."

"Who do you suppose he is?"

Tony pretended to think about it for a moment. "Judging by those on site, I'd guess someone in the Navy."

James laughed at that, shaking his head at the younger detective. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

"I try."

"What's going on here?" a new voice entered the conversation, and both detectives turned as one to assess the young woman who approached, her eyes flickering between the two detectives and the NCIS team that were just now beginning to wrap up their investigation. "This is hardly in your area of jurisdi..."

But her voice, like her walk, faltered when she saw the man being carefully wrapped in plastic by Ducky and Palmer. "Oh my god!" And her hand flew to her mouth, her dark eyes wide in horror as she struggled to gasp in a few quick breaths. "Billy!"

"Billy?"

The woman tore her eyes away from the body of the man she had once known, turning to look into the eyes of the young detective standing by the patrol car. Hurriedly, she shook whatever thoughts had been in her head away, before taking a few steadying breaths. "Petty Officer William Frederick Harborough," she offered; her breath shaking as she attempted some semblance of calm. "A witness in one of our cases."

"You are?"

"Agent Mikaela Thornton," she offered quickly, shaking her head as though to clear it, before extending her hand to take Tony's. He was about to accept he gesture when she was interrupted by another cool voice.

"Agent Thornton."

She turned to greet Gibbs, made nervous it seemed, by the cool tone of his voice and the obvious suspicion in his eyes. "Sir?"

"You'll direct all you information towards me or my team. Detective DiNozzo is no longer a part of this investigation."

Looking back and forth between the two, Agent Thornton noticed considerable hostility in the eyes of the younger man, and watched in silence as without another word, he turned and nodded at his partner, both of them sliding back into their patrol car.

It was clear to Gibbs, from the look Tony gave him as they drove off, that he had only made things worse.

"It's not our case anymore, DiNozzo. Let the Feds fight it out."

But Tony was already shaking his head. "No. There's something here. Something we're not seeing. Why did the call come to us? The body was on the steps of the FBI building, for god's sake. Why didn't they call the FBI?"

"Because nine one one dials us?"

Tony shot him a dry look, before shaking his head again. "There's more to this case than what's on the surface."

"NCIS says we're not involved, means we're not involved, Tony. Let it go."

It was clear from James' attitude that he thought Tony's determination was purely due to his old boss stealing the case from him. "Think about it," he argued, turning to the Chief when it was clear he'd lost James' interest long ago. From the Chief's expression, he wasn't that much keener on sticking with the investigation than Tony's partner, but at least he was still listening. "Think about what we found. The shots, all grouped together. Three in the heart, three in the head. Eyes and tongue missing. Who does that remind you of?"

"You think Carlos did this?" The Chief was sceptical at best. "You realise he's in prison right? You should, DiNozzo. You put him there."

"And yet a copycat murder comes in, three in the morning, and for some reason, out of everyone in the precinct, it's forwarded through to me."

The Chief shrugged broad shoulders. "You're the only one guaranteed to be awake enough to deal with a murder at that hour of the morning."

"Chief," and Tony's voice was stern, trying to get his point taken seriously. "What are the chances of a copycat killer murdering a man exactly as Carlos Nazziri might have, and then my number, out of everyone else here, being called? Tell me."

The Chief sighed. "Slim." He shook his head, reluctance in his every action. "We're supposed to be off this case, so you'll be sticking your nose where it doesn't belong and isn't wanted."

There was a flash of white teeth at his boss' capitulation. "It's what I do best."

"Agent Thornton," a casual tone greeted her as she picked up a peach from the tray in the store, her dark eyes moving to discover the handsome detective she'd seen a couple of days previous. "Small world."

"Small city," she corrected him, turning back to the fruit and picking two from the selection on offer, before turning from him and moving off into the store; hopefully to get rid of him.

"Hey, look..." and Mikaela wanted to sigh in dismay when she found the guy tugging lightly on her arm in order to get her to face him. Turning slowly, she dutifully fixed her eyes on his, nodding to acknowledge that she was listening. "I just... I wanted to apologise for the other day. I was a little... unfriendly, and honestly, it had nothing to do with you."

She studied him in silence for a long moment, dark eyes studying those blue ones opposite her, remembering well the tension between the NCIS agent and this man before her, something within them, deep down where she couldn't quite read it, caught her attention, and a slight frown tugged at her lips. "What is it that you're hiding, Detective?" she asked quietly, as though to herself, before she shook her head and extended her hand to take his. "Very well. Apology accepted." Then she offered him a brief smile of farewell, before turning once again and strolling off into the store; not once looking back.

"A fan of the sliced meats, Agent Thornton?"

Mikaela turned again in surprise and annoyance to face the man standing beside her. "You obviously don't know a blow-off when you encounter one."

Tony just shrugged, his expression mildly offended. "And you obviously don't know the difference between a man commenting on sliced meats and a guy making a pass at you," he offered back with a short shrug, before turning away from her and nodding briefly at the young man behind the counter when his number was called. "I was here first, Miss Thornton," he added with a pointed expression, stepping forward to order.

It was a few minutes later that he'd ordered fifty grams of triple smoked ham – he'd be having a fabulous lunch, whatever else happened – and was in the process of strolling off through the store, when a short call caught his attention.

"Detective, wait!"

He turned back to see her holding up a finger, as though telling him to stay exactly where he was, before she turned and ordered. A minute later she was standing in front of him again, holding her shopping basket in both hands in front of her and looking up at him a little sheepishly.

"Sorry. I'm just far too used to guys..." and she shrugged, informing him that he should be able to guess the rest.

"Hitting on you?" Tony offered with one of those charming smiles he was well known for in the female community of this great city.

She nodded with a rueful laugh at his words, her eyes sparkling up at him in amused embarrassment, before she stepped around him and began walking. The slow, almost purposeful manner in which she did so indicated that he should feel free to fall into step, and he did, looking down at her from his taller height as she continued.

"Yeah. It's hard to be taken seriously as a federal agent when you look like I do," she explained with a smile, glancing up at him momentarily before looking away again. "I guess when people see me they think that I'm just some hopeless bimbo who joined the FBI to hook up with hot guys carrying guns and handcuffs."

Tony had to chuckle at that. "And did you?" he asked teasingly, knowing he'd hit the mark when the woman laughed, her eyes sparkling in amusement.

"Maybe in some small way," she offered with a shrug and a wink, shaking her head in dismay at her admission. "But the boys at work don't need to know that, right?"

"Right," Tony agreed, one corner of his lips tugging up into a rather lopsided smirk that – if Mikaela had to be entirely honest with herself – she found rather charming; and yes, attractive too. Then he glanced pointedly down at her basket, deciding to change the subject from work. After all, he didn't want to push too hard too fast; he didn't want her getting suspicious and closing off before he'd discovered any information about this case. "So... Planning a party, are you?"

Her brows rose in question a moment before she noticed the direction of his gaze and her own eyes fell to her basket, crowded as it was with chocolate, chips and biscuits. She shrugged. "Not really. Just a few of the girls coming over for movie night."

Tony's brows rose in instant interest at her words. "Pyjama party, huh?"

She grinned at his reaction, shaking her head at the obvious hope in his expression before shrugging once again with a wicked grin pulling at her mouth. "That's right. Running around the bedroom wearing ridiculously skimpy pyjamas having a pillow fight; what else is there to do on a Friday night?"

He chuckled at her obvious exaggeration. "I see. And how does one get invited to such an event."

She grinned teasingly up at him, and he knew that he'd succeeded in gaining her attention. Perfect. Now to make her feel comfortable. Feel like talking. Feel like spilling those facts about the case that he wasn't supposed to know.

"Being a girl would certainly help; it's actually a prerequisite."

"Ah, disappointing," and Tony sighed exaggeratedly, putting on his best 'disappointment' face. "I've always wanted to see one of those."

"Now that I believe, Detective," she replied, looking halfway between dismay and amusement at his admission. Then she fell silent, looking back to her basket, walking beside him, her eyes darting around the store as though she was fighting for something to say.

He decided to lay out the clincher.

"Well, it's been great, Agent Thornton, but I suppose I'd best let you get back to your party shopping. After all, I've got to head for the salads, and you," and he glanced back at her basket, another smile tugging at his mouth. "Well... One can't have a party without endless litres of carbonated drinks..."

She laughed softly at his words, nodding her agreement and looking back towards the soft drink aisle they'd passed earlier. "No you really can't," she agreed, before pausing a moment and shifting her basket to one hand, she offered the other one. "Mikaela Thornton."

Tony paused momentarily, observing her hand as though it might be a trick, taking it seconds later when he received a laugh for his antics. "Anthony DiNozzo. Tony to my friends, co-workers, and... well... really just about everyone for that matter."

Mikaela laughed at that, shaking her head in amusement. "Well then, Tony," and she stressed the name, her eyes sparkling up at him. "It was a pleasure to meet you again. You make a better second impression than your first."

Tony just returned her smile, his eyes sparkling in amusement. "Thanks. I try."

"Got it, Chief," Tony spoke in a cheerful voice as he strolled back into the precinct and collapsed into his high-back chair with a weary sigh, his feet propped up on his desk.

"Got what, DiNozzo?" the man asked, brow raised as he looked at the younger man, waiting to hear exactly how it was he'd made any kind of progress with two groups of Feds fighting over this case.

"Her number, Chief, and a dinner date."