Screams were heard all the way around our ears as we ducked our heads with the noise and dove under the small tables we could hardly fit under. The lava lamps shook their lights around the room, but stayed put and ignored our shaking, scared bodies. I said nothing about the holes in the door and the narrow escape we had, but I knew something had to do be done and done pretty soon…before more people were hurt or killed.

"As if this will help us!" I yelled without meaning to, knowing that a gunman can see and smell fear. And, for once in my life, I felt safer in my father's house than under a small table holding a lava lamp above my stupid head.

"It's better than nothing," Felix replied in a panic, his voice hushed like a gentle wind and, for once, pretty calm, although there was some shaking in his voice. "And shut the hell up! The shooter will hear us. Remember, we have holes in that door, where we nearly died? He can hear us and possibly see us, you dimwit."

"Geez, how could I forget?"

Hearing people outside moan as more shots were fired, screams for it to stop and whispered pleas through nine-one-one calls, I thought of an idea that will help us in the long run for maybe a little bit of time. I took out my cell phone from my pocket and thought of a number that I remembered sat on Gibbs' desk as I walked out of the Navy Yard the last time I was there, before Felix picked me up. The number was on a business card that I knew was his.

Thanking God for my good memory (even through a heat exhaustion haze), I pressed the buttons and listened to the phone ring. It rang several times, so I thought that I was going to hit the voice mail until I heard Gibbs' voice on the other end. I must have disturbed him from his sleep either at home or in the office (without coffee too, which I knew would be the death of me if I deprived any Marine of it) because he sounded irritated, groggy even.

"Yeah? Who is this?"

"Gibbs, this is Lydia –"

Gunfire was heard outside of the door, deep breaths huffing in and out, screams being cut off as shots rang out. Footsteps walked past our door, but I saw no figure I could discern as anyone. It was a shadow, a man out to kill.

"Lydia, where are you?!" Gibbs yelled when he heard the interruptions outside the door.

"Shh, Gibbs," I hissed. "I'm at the Love Club and there's a shooter and –"

"Get the hell out of there!"

"I can't. He's outside the door, in the hallway. Jesus, I don't even know if he's the only one."

"Are you armed?"

"Yes, but I'm not –"

"You do it to defend yourself and others. Don't hesitate again. I'll be there with backup as soon as I can."

And with that, Gibbs hung up. I stared at my phone for a second before deciding that maybe his advice was the best I was going to get…and possibly the only boost of confidence I'll ever have in a while.

"Now what, genius?" Felix asked me in the same hushed tone, his hands gripping the sides of the table in a white-knuckled clutch. "What are you going to do now?"

"I'm not going to be some sissy and sit around, waiting for backup," I replied without the great coolness behind it, getting up and bumping my head and knees against the table in the process. "Thanks to Mom, I have a license to kill with my weapon. I'm as close as you're gonna get to a cop."

"Are you serious? Lydia, are you crazy?"

"No." I got up, taking my pistol out of my purse, tossing the latter aside. "It's time to catch this bad guy."

I ran out the door, listening to Felix yell stupidly, "No, Lydia! Wait! Don't go out there!"

~00~

I took a deep breath, stalking up and down the third floor hallways, spiraling this way and that. My pistol up and ready to use, I constantly looked over my shoulder and around corners, always checking for a shooter. In the meantime, I checked out doorways and closets and even made sure that everybody was aware that help was on the way when I saw people. Some pointed out dead bodies, others dizzily shook their heads for help or pathetically walked away, stunned. I pointed wounded people in a safe direction, issuing instructions on how to get past the shooter if he or she happened to be by again.

I could do nothing but find that killer otherwise, scared as I was.

Taking deep breaths, I kept a mental count of bodies in my head, dead or alive. I had seen two dead people in my life before that moment and now was seeing many violently mutilated ones in the hallways of the Love. Trying desperately to keep my cool, I felt that my blinders seemed to be on. My eyes and concentration, as lessons went through my head without meaning to, were only for that man running around with a gun. And my mind in motion wasn't quite registering dead, shot-up bodies and wounded people just yet.

I heard a crash behind me (where I had just checked) and turned around, my heart pounding in my chest hard, my fingers just itching to shoot somebody who killed innocents (stupid as some of them were). When I found the source of the noise, a mop and buckets were on the floor, toppling out of the closet behind me. I lowered my weapon for a moment, thinking that I was the idiot that misplaced objects and caused them to stumble without meaning to.

Then, a shot flew right through my hair behind me, just missing my neck…barely.

"Drop your weapon!" I yelled, turning right around and holding my weapon up again and seeing nothing. I felt I had no authority still and the fright came back, but like I told Felix, I was closest one to power and with the ability to shoot back.

Another crash behind me had me turning, frantically searching for the source of the menace and finding nothing. But the hallways were becoming emptier except for the dead bodies here and there. Wounded people were walking out towards me after the shooter left the hallways around me, contaminating crime scenes and calling for help even though I pointed them in the right direction. I swear, as I sought for whoever was knocking over things, that there were at least twenty something calls to nine-one-one dispatchers since I left Felix…and many more to come, I was afraid.

And yet, the shooter was nowhere in sight except through deed. He had yet to show himself without shooting and running away from me.

Outside, lightning suddenly flashed, getting me to jump as Professor MacNara's lessons went through my head once more. Thunder was heard in the distance a short time later. A few minutes later of searching later, the rain started coming down, down, down…

I whistled an old song with this in mind, something Mom and I sang along to a long time ago. I wanted to get the shooter to come out, painting a target on myself to do it, but that was a stupid move too, even though it got people to safety.

Will you stand over me,
Look my way, never love me?
Rain keep falling,
Rain keeps falling,
Down, down, down, down, down…

Gunfire erupted behind me, causing me to duck and roll behind a trash barrel that had been knocked over, a dead body locked inside of it. Damning myself as I picked my head back up slightly to shoot (and wishing I had another plan to lure the shooter out), I saw a large man in black. I mean, he wore black everything. He even had a pitch-black ski mask over his head, so I could not describe him well. All facial features – anything recognizable – were covered, except the shape and figure were that of a male.

This man saw me returning fire and aimed lower instead of over my head. After popping several holes into the plastic trash barrel and missing my knees and the body by millimeters with more lodging in the dead body, I reloaded (I forgot about the extras usually in my pocket) and shot again, trying to disable him temporarily, before Gibbs and his team came up here. And I needed them as soon as I could. I was quickly running out of ammo for my weapon, knowing that it was supposed to be used for a few shots, nothing more.

"Dammit, come on, give me a good angle," I muttered to myself, knowing that seconds had passed as the two of us had gone back and forth firing our weapons and him with the better one, at that. "Come on, come on, come on…"

"Federal agents! Drop your weapons!"

I thought I would die hearing those words. I thought I would jump for joy to hear Tim McGee come to everybody's rescue.

"Federal agents! Drop your weapons! I repeat, drop your weapons now!"

I dropped mine quickly, thinking that I was supposed to as well. I ducked back behind the barrel and went into a ball, surrendering myself (and the body in there) to the authorities. It was probably safer that way, even if I acted like them before arrival.

However, I didn't think our black-clad intruder would want to do the safer route of things. For a few minutes, he exchanged fire with McGee and another agent (I could not see who) before another random shot stopped the killer or else another situation got out of hand. When I looked up from my hiding spot, I saw that it was Gibbs who remained standing, his gun still pointed to where the killer was standing. Very Special Agent DiNozzo was standing next to McGee and Ziva David was coming up the back.

And there he was, the killer, dead on the floor. A red hole now decorated the middle of his forehead, a tribute to his dead and wounded victims.

"Everything clear," Ziva confirmed.

"Ambulances outside, last I saw," McGee added as he put his weapon away. "Rain isn't making anything better."

"How many dead?" Gibbs asked, putting his weapon away. The others followed suit.

"So far, I saw four, included a Marine," Tony said. "We haven't been through this whole scene yet."

"What happened to the Marine?" I asked, coming out of my hiding spot, pointing out their fifth body before they saw it.

"What happened to you?" Tony asked.

"What do you mean?" I volleyed back, oblivious to what he was talking about. "I'm more concerned about the Marine officer. I happened to be stopped by one earlier. What happened to him?"

"I think what Tony means is that, why do you have dirt and soot on your face and blood on the front of your shirt?" McGee pointed out.

The soot and dirt I expected, from firing and rolling and ducking. But when I looked down at my shirt, I noticed for the first time that I had been hit, albeit lightly, like a scratch. The real throbbing was on my neck, when that bullet went through my hair and missed running through my neck. It might have hit the back of my neck briefly before the showdown began between me and that dead man on the floor. But I could not tell when it happened…

"You still didn't answer my question," I only replied as I looked up again, ignoring McGee and DiNozzo. "What happened to the Marine lieutenant that was here?"

"Dead," Gibbs answered for everyone, rubbing his forehead, as if remembering something from a short time ago. "Strung up like the rest of them. Are you satisfied now?"

I nodded (my curiosity quenched), knowing what happened to him. He was shot in the head and chest and hung up by his feet someplace. He most likely had semen in his mouth as well.

"What was his name?" I asked. "He stopped me when I was looking for Felix. He kept saying that he had a message for me and Mara. He had separate messages for us and kept harassing me about it before Felix took me away. Said it was important, he kept asking me which sister I was and –"

"How about, we get you out of here so that you can get some help?" Gibbs sighed with relief, walking towards me. He was deliberately ignoring me and trying to divert me elsewhere.

"I don't need help," I replied harshly, brushing him away as he tried steering me in the opposite direction away from the three other agents, ignoring his orders to his team to start processing scenes, shouted in his usual manner. Instead though, I had Gibbs take me by the shoulders and glide me down the hallway, smooth as can be.

And I didn't even bother protesting…quite yet.

"Yes, you do," Gibbs replied just as cruelly. "When becoming a forensics expert, a law enforcer or an agent, you learn to follow orders. This isn't a suggestion, Lydia. This is an order. I want you out by an ambulance and I want it done now."

Gibbs stopped (me along with him) and put his hands on my shoulders when we reached a corner in the hallway, staring at me. I mistakenly looked into his blue eyes and saw something I had never seen in this agent before: fear. He was frightened by and for everything in his life. He had seen a lot in his years and was accounting for everything he had ever done, without turning back.

Then, I heard Gibbs sigh, turning away from me momentarily, but I saw what he accidentally let loose in front of me. I saw what piece of himself Gibbs had left with me and it wasn't exactly something that everyone had in their lives. It came with the territory, of course, but it also came when something tragic happened in your life.

Sorrow…Gibbs was suffering grief.

"Lydia, please come with me." Gibbs turned back to his normal self, tugging at me to get moving with him. "You need some help. Then, we can find your car and I'll follow you home."

"What? Are you crazy? I'll head home alone. I'll be fine." I was conceding to Gibbs and medical treatment, but I wasn't going to let him help me handle my personal problems when trouble came knocking on my door again.

"And let your father instigate another argument?" Gibbs asked, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think so. He'll undo everything that's been done."

"What do you mean?" The question seemed popular this night. That must have been the second time I asked it.

Gibbs stopped us both again. "Did you notice the rashes on your arms or are you that dense?"

"No…"

He then felt my forehead and cheeks with the back of his hand, almost in a fatherly fashion, as if he had been a parent before. "Yeah, just as I thought. Keep running around and playing the eager investigator when you're supposed to be resting and you'll relapse again."

"What are you talking about, Gibbs?"

"After the adrenaline gets out of your system, you need to rest. Period. No compromises. You understand me?"

"Again, I'm confused."

I received a slap to the back of the head as a response, so this was something I needed to pay attention to.

"What was that for?" I asked, still confused and my head aching.

"Rule number eight," Gibbs replied quickly. "Don't take anything for granted."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's exactly as I said it. Don't take anything for granted, even me. You need to think for yourself and get out of anything, especially if you're going to be going in the direction that you're in. You also need to take care of yourself and your family. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir." I almost mockingly saluted him, to match the sarcastic attitude, but I thought against it…this time.

"I have about fifty or more of those rules to teach you."

My heart seemed to have stopped and worked its way up to my throat. What is he talking about? Is he trying to be a mentor or something? Is he going to my boss?

"Is that a job offer?" I asked, afraid of what I was going to hear.

"When you graduate, it is, according to my boss," Gibbs affirmed quietly (like that had been something he was supposed to tell me anyway), leading me towards the stairs to the public chaos. However, as we started inching slowly to the flashing lights of the media and the police and medical crews all out in the rain, he added, "There's another. Rule number nine: never go anywhere without a knife."

I felt honored to be taught by one of the best NCIS agents out there. At that moment, from then on out, I vowed to do the best I can be in my field of study, even if it meant staying out of this case and adding a knife to my fledging collection of weapons. From that moment onward, I knew that my life would change with this opportunity and more. The planets seemed aligned with this turn of events (tragic as it was) and my dreams seemed to be coming into reality now, all in thanks to my wonderful mother, who helped me get back into a direction I needed to be in after high school.

But there was still treachery about. There was still a murderer out on the loose and the media wasn't going to be the only ones looking into it.

Above lyrics are from the Simple Minds' song, "Don't You Forget About Me" from the The Breakfast Club soundtrack.