This is turning into a monster of a story, the characters are all insisting that I keep typing till my fingers fall off. Not that I'm complaining, I'm enjoying where this is going. Hope you all are, too!

There is a spoiler for the episode Chinese Box during this update :-)


Fighting against the urge to throw up, Charlie looked around the room he was in. There was the chair he was tied to, concrete floor – which was freezing on his bare feet – with a small rug by the door, and a window close to the ceiling. Considering how far it was from him, Charlie estimated that should he get free from the ropes, he had a 61% chance of making it out the window. Not very good odds. Charlie sighed, and then remembered why that was a bad idea. The men who grabbed him had kicked him a few times in the ribs, making breathing slightly more painful. He jumped slightly as he heard voices coming towards him, then the door opened.

"Dr. Charles Edward Eppes," the man in front said. "Professor at the California Institute of Science, and also consultant for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, correct?"

Charlie nodded slightly. "That is correct," he said.

"How long have you been working with NCIS?" he asked.

Shaking his head, Charlie objected. "I have never worked for NCIS," he started, and one of the guards came forward and punched him hard on the mouth.

Charlie tried not to scream as blood filled his mouth. He spat out quickly to make sure he still had room to breathe.

"Do not lie to me," the man said. "I shall ask again, how long have you worked with NCIS?"

Charlie let his head hang a little, blood dripping out. "I did a project once, a joint effort between CGIS and NCIS, about five years ago. But I have never worked solely for NCIS."

The man sighed. "My name is Asaf Sayar. I know the amount of consulting work an individual such as yourself does on a regular basis. Therefore I must ask myself why you would be in the company of two NCIS agents and a liaison if you are not consulting for them."

Charlie raised his head. "I am in DC to visit an old friend who happens to be an NCIS agent. We had agreed to meet for dinner, and his team decided to join us."

"And the name of your NCIS friend is?"

"Timothy McGee," Charlie answered, and was rewarded with another punch, this one on his eye. Charlie gasped as white lights danced in front of him.

"Dr. Eppes, if you do not start answering my questions correctly, I will start to get very upset with you," Asaf told him.

Charlie shook his head to clear it. "My friend is Agent McGee; we met at MIT several years ago and have stayed in touch since."

Asaf sighed again. "Is there anyone else on that team that you recognized?

Charlie took a deep breath. "No, no one."

This time, the punch brought with it blessed darkness.


Tony stopped the car a block from the restaurant that the team and Charlie had eaten at the night before. Had it only been that long ago? It seemed like a lot longer than that. He motioned to Agent Eppes to follow him, and started walking towards the restaurant.

"Agent McGee and I were headed towards our cars," Tony said, pointing down the road where they had parked. "Ziva had offered to take a cab with Charlie, so we left them in front of the restaurant. Not five minutes after we'd left, Ziva called me and told me that Charlie was kidnapped, and that there were shots fired, so McGee and I took off for the restaurant."

Don nodded, his eyes sweeping the scene. "And you couldn't hear the shots?" he asked, examining the bullet holes in the wall.

Tony shook his head. "No, we had passed a club that is notorious for playing its music loud enough to register on the Richter scale. We never heard a thing."

Don traced a bullet hole with one of his fingers when something struck him. "Why would Ziva take a cab with Charlie?" he asked. "I mean, she lives in DC, doesn't she have a car?"

Tony shrugged. "We were thinking about that, too. But she probably just wanted to talk to him, find out why he seemed familiar."

Don nodded again, only partly paying attention. He noticed a drop of blood not far from the entrance to the restaurant. At first, he dismissed it as being Ziva's, but then noticed another drop a few feet away from the first. Walking towards it, he saw a trail of blood leading away from the attack; clearly Ziva never would have gone this way. "Tony," he called.

Tony looked over at Don, who seemed to be examining something on the ground. "Yeah?" he asked, walking over.

"Any reason to think that Officer David would have gone this way?" he asked, trying not to get excited.

Tony looked at what the FBI guy was looking at, and grinned. "Nope, she went the other way. So did we."

Don grinned. Finally, something new. "You happen to have a kit on you?" he asked.

Tony nodded. "Didn't think I'd need it, but working for Gibbs, you learn to come prepared," he said, kneeling and getting the kit out.

Don stood, seeing that the agent had it under control. "I'm going to see where this leads, though it's probably a dead end."

Tony nodded to him, concentrating on what he was doing. He had just finished packing it all away into a plastic bag, when he heard Don call his name again. That's going to get old, he though as he hurried over to the FBI agent. But that train of thought immediately left him when he saw Eppes kneeling by a body. Don checked, and found no pulse. "Dead," he told DiNozzo.


David looked over at Ziva as they were pounding away at the computers. "So, when did you come to NCIS?" he asked conversationally.

Ziva turned and smiled at him. "Two years ago. I was sent to liaise with NCIS, and ended up staying. I would not have it any other way."

David nodded. "Your team certainly does seem close," he commented, double checking each of the parameters for the search.

Ziva laughed. "My team? What about yours?" she asked. "I do not know of many teams that will come clear across the country for a consultant, or even for a boss's brother."

"We haven't thought about Charlie like that in a long time," David told her sharply. "He earned a spot on our team. His work has saved each of our lives at least one time." Here, David paused looking into space. "You know, there was a case, less than a month ago. I was stuck in an elevator, I had traded myself for the hostage the gunman had. Everyone was going crazy trying to figure out how to get me out of there alive, and I was just trying to deal with being the only one the guy would talk to, but not being the shotcaller, since Don was. Later, after everyone had gone home, I found out that Charlie was the one who had convinced Don that giving me the power to make decisions was the smartest move. And it was, since I was able to get us both out of there alive. If Charlie hadn't intervened, I don't know what might have happened." He stopped again, and looked at Ziva. "I know that my team will do anything we have to in order to get him back alive."

Nodding, Ziva turned to look at him. She could tell that he meant every word. She was about to say something when David's cell rang. He hurried to grab it, and answered. "Sinclair."

"David, its Don. Forget about the prints. Turns out Ziva hit a little hard. We found the guy dead less than a block from where the attack took place, down in an old alley. Guy had an ID on him, though it might be a fake. Passport IDs him as Ben Oded. Tony said they have a good ME at NCIS, so we're on our way with the body now. Can one of you let the ME know?"

David was shocked. "Will do, Don. See you in a bit," he said, and hung up, then looked over at a very confused Ziva. "Forget about the prints," he told her.

"What?" Ziva demanded.

"Don and Tony found the guy dead about a block away from the attack. Don said that they're bringing the guy back here, and to tell your ME."

Ziva nodded, still shocked. She would not have thought that her hit was that hard. But she pulled her mind back to the present. "Autopsy is this way," she said, leading the way. They took the elevator down, and walked through a set of glass doors. David wasn't sure what he was expecting, but this man wasn't it.

"Ah, Ziva. How are you feeling?" an older man asked, coming forward to look at her.

Ziva smiled. "I am doing ok, Ducky. This is Special Agent David Sinclair; he is with the LA FBI team that is here."

David stuck out his hand. "Just call me David," he offered.

The man smiled. "Then please, call me Ducky. Now, what is it you came in here for?"

"David just got a call from his boss and Tony saying that they found a body, and told us to let you know that they were on their way."

Ducky smiled warmly at them. "Well, then I should get Mr. Palmer in here, and start getting ready. Thank you, my dear," he said to Ziva.

The two agents left Autopsy, and Ziva led the way. "We will go see how Abby is doing on those casings," she told him, and David nodded.

He didn't know what he expected when he walked into Forensics, but it certainly wasn't this. Music was blaring, and a Goth girl was running around between different machines. Ziva took a quick glance at the expression on David's face and grinned.

"Abby!" she called.

Abby turned around, then grabbed a remote and turned the music down. "Ziva!" she said with a smile. "And who is your tall, dark, and handsome friend?" she asked.

Ziva laughed. "Abby Scuito, meet David Sinclair of the LA FBI office."

"Pleased to meet you, Agent Sinclair," she said in a sultry voice, and David had to choke back a laugh.

"You as well, Ms. Scuito," he said, shaking her hand.

"Please, call me Abby," she said, then laughed. "Very good, Agent Sinclair. You haven't laughed at my attire, nor have you said that I don't look like a forensics expert."

David smiled as he shook his head. "If the last few years have taught me anything, it's that you can't always judge a book by its cover. Just because you have a different sense of fashion than I do doesn't mean that you don't know your stuff." Then he remembered why he was there. "You have anything for us yet?" he asked.

Abby nodded. "Some, but not much. The gun that Ziva brought in doesn't help us much, because its number was filed off, but we did manage to lift a print from the magazine, probably when he was checking his ammo. The casings that were used to fire at her were from a Glock. Without the gun itself, I can't run down the owner, it's a pretty popular gun to use. If you get me the gun, I can definitively match it to the casings."

David nodded. He had hoped for more, but at this point, there wasn't much. "Thank you, Abby," he told her, and he and Ziva left. "Wait," he said, stopping her.

"What is it?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"Don gave us a name for the guy, but he thinks that it might be a fake name. Let's run down the name, see if we can come up with any other aliases for the guy."

Ziva grinned. "I like the way you think, David." She led the way back to the room they had been using, and the two got back to work.