Chapter Eight: Ambiguous Donuts

"I got you a present."

McGee glanced across his desk. A generic cardboard coffee cup sat on the edge of his desk, still steaming. He looked up, and found Emily smiling down at him, a similar cup in her own hand.

"Colonial Donuts?" The brunette's curly ponytail bounced perkily as she nodded. "Is it flavored?"

"Hazelnut, with a packet of sugar, and half a cream." She wrinkled her nose. "Your coffee is strong! Yuck. I tried a sip."

Tony sauntered over to the desk, sensing good coffee. "You didn't get anything for me?" he asked, looking hurt.

"You didn't drive me home last night, Tony," Emily retorted, turning back to McGee. "Actually, they changed the name again. Now, its just 'Donuts.' They removed the 'Colonial' from the sign. I don't know why. Maybe it has to do with the location." She furrowed her eyebrows thoughtfully. "It's sort of behind a used car dealership."

"That might explain it," McGee replied, chuckling and taking a sip of his fresh coffee. "This is amazing! Where's this place again?"

"A few blocks away from my apartment. They have a drive-through."

"And it's just… Donuts? Ambiguous Donuts?"

"Yeah," the brunette giggled. "Ambiguous Donuts." She smiled down at him fondly. "Tim McGee, you make me laugh."

"What about me?" Tony asked, sounding hurt. "Don't I make you laugh?"

"You keep me young, Tony," Emily stated, patting him on the arm comfortingly. "You keep me young." This seemed mildly ironic, since, at twenty-four, she was the youngest in the group, and it was obvious.

Raster and Gibbs marched into the bullpen shoulder to shoulder. "Where's Keller?" Raster asked, turning her cold gaze expectantly to Emily. A few locks of curly hair tumbled into her eyes as the young woman hung her head.

"He told me not to pick him up this morning," the brunette whispered. This statement hurt her. "It was my day to drive." It seemed like such an inane thing to be upset about, but Emily Saunders life he virtually been defined by the inane things in it.

"Why would he do that?" Gibbs asked sharply, recognizing the incongruity in this action, after having known the three FBI agents only a few weeks. Emily and Matt always drove together; it was never different. "Is he driving on his own?"

"I don't know! I don't know if he's sick or…" Emily shook her head and realized that everyone within the space was staring at her. "Why are we making sure a big deal out of it? It's no big deal. If Matt wants to skip out on work or whatever, that's up to him. I'm sick of caring!"

"Who said he was skipping work?" Gibbs asked, stepping closer to her. The brunette's mouth clamped shut guiltily. "That's what you think, isn't it? Tell me why you think that."

She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Tim had told her not to worry, and now everyone was getting her worked up about it again. "Can we stop talking about this, please? I always get nervous when people start grilling me."

A very fortunate distraction came in the form of Gibbs' cell phone ringing. It was Abby.

"Gibbs, I found something!" she declared, and it sounded like she was running. "Don't make everyone come down, though. I'm coming to you." Three seconds later, she appeared from behind a divider. "Hi, everyone," she began nervously, holding a paper out towards Gibbs. "Um, I ran those fingerprints you found, and cross-referenced them with the database that McGee came up with…"

"Emily made it, too," McGee stated.

Abby ignored him. "… and I finally got a match. The thing is, we weren't getting a hit because the FBI was blocking us from the records." She shot a glance in Emily's direction.

"Why were they blocking us?" Tony asked.

"Because the person who's a match died a little over three weeks ago."

It was one of those shocking moments where everyone gasps or sighs heavily and looks at each other. The last victim had been killed just under three weeks ago – there was no way the man, whoever he was, could have killed the woman.

"There's no way that's possible."