AN: Okay, writers block is killing me, so the next chapters are mostly filler and fluff on reader request! Oh, I can't believe I forgot!!! I DO NOT OWN OR CLAIM TO OWN NCIS!!! I do however own the first season on DVD: ) Enjoy y'all!

"McGee! Tell me you've got something!" Gibbs barked

Gibbs was in rare form today. Whenever the lives of his team members were in jeopardy, he would fight to the death to protect them. However this time was different. He felt as though he had failed them. He hadn't been there to protect Ziva from the oncoming vehicle, and he hadn't been there to protect Tony from taking a bullet. The doctors had assured him that with time and proper care, both of them would in all likelihood make a full recovery. But that was beside the point. He didn't regret not being there to protect them nearly as much as he regretted the fact that McGee killed the bastard before he could get to him. No one messes with my team.

"Um, yeah. We got a hit on the BOLO. A used car dealership reportedly has a navy blue H3 sold to them by a mechanic three days ago. License plate matches out missing rig." McGee reported

"I want that vehicle in Abby's garage within the hour!" Gibbs commanded as he marched toward the elevator.

"Already on the way here, Boss!"

Halfway down the elevator shaft Gibbs flicked the emergency brake on. He paced the interior of the metal box several times like a caged lion. After a few laps, he lashed out and kicked the wall, leaving an appreciable dent in the chrome paneling. How could this happen? If he hadn't hit Ziva, Tony wouldn't have been shot trying to arrest him. And Ziva wouldn't have been hit if that bastard hadn't gotten behind the wheel of a stolen rig for a joyride. It all could have been prevented. Should have been prevented.

Finally, his boiling rage cooled to a simmer and he headed down to Autopsy to check up on Ducky. He and Palmer were still in the early stages of the autopsy, so Gibbs knew Ducky probably had no answers for him yet. "Well Duck, you got anything yet?"

"Please Jethro, the dead tell their tales, but not all on one breath. Or so to speak." Ducky replied, "However we do have quite a predicament."

"I don't like hearing that, Ducky" Gibbs cautioned

"No, I didn't think that you would. Have a look over here." Ducky said, indicating the illuminated tooth X-Rays on the wall, "Here are Mark Wallace's known tooth structure, from his dental records. Here are the teeth of the young man on my table."

"They don't match." Gibbs stated

"They aren't even close! Abigail also checked his DNA and fingerprints to verify my theory. This man is not Mark Wallace." Ducky replied, "I have no idea who this man is, or why he would want to shoot Anthony, but what I can tell you is that we may still be looking for a suspect."

"What do you mean 'may'?"

"We have no proof that Mr. Wallace was the driver of that vehicle. All we have is testimony, reasonable suspicion and your gut."

"Since when has my gut been wrong, Duck?"

When Gibbs entered Abby's lab, he had expected to be blasted by her latest album blaring at an unreasonable volume. However her lab was deathly silent. There was no music, no clicking of keyboard keys, nothing. Also absent, was Abby. He searched around her sanctuary and found her curled up asleep on the futon behind her desk.

"Abs." he whispered, tapping her shoulder

Her eyes opened at once, "Sorry Gibbs. I haven't slept in, like, 36 hours. I tried taking a bat-nap, that's what Ziva calls them, but I can't sleep without Bert! I miss him Gibbs! But when I try to tell myself that Bert's needed more by Tony and Ziva, I just keep reminding myself that they're hurt and I can't help them! And if I try to convince myself that they're okay, I want my Bert back! Does that make me a bad person?"

Gibbs sighed and sat next to her not the futon, allowing her to lay her head on his shoulder. "Abs, this isn't really about Bert, we both know that." he told her, "Right now, the best thing that you can do for them is to solve the case for them. And if not that, take care of yourself. Go home. Sleep. Be back here at 0800, and we'll start over with a clean slate. Okay?"

"Okay, but first," she said standing with a little difficulty. Platform boots were unstable footwear at any time, but when sleep deprived, she could barely stay standing. "We have the wrong guy. Well, sort of. We know he shot Tony, but we don't know if he had anything to do with the hit-and-run. Dental records, fingerprints, and DNA all say this is not Mark Wallace."

"Well, then who is the son-of-a-bitch?" Gibbs asked, still sitting on Abby's futon

"Patrick Henry. But I don't think he's the type to say, 'Give me Liberty, or-"

"Abs! American history later, case now!"

"Sorry, couldn't resist! He's a Dutch citizen here on an expired work Visa. Immigration has been trying to get a hold of him for like a month now. He's suspected of bank robbery in New Jersey, other than that, his record is squeaky clean." she reported, "And before you ask, I have his last known address, and I sent it to McGee."

Gibbs gave her a quick peck on the cheek, "Good work. Now go to bed."

"Yes sir!" she saluted, knowing full well that he despised being called "sir."

He corrected her British style salute before he too, retired for the evening. He walked into Ducky's morgue, grabbed one of those foam pillows, and lay down on a vacant table. "Goodnight, Jethro!" he heard Ducky call from the next table over

"'Night Duck!"

AN: Yes, there is a MAJOR difference between British and American salutes. Not in the way it looks really, but don't do a British salute in America. Just don't. Next chapter will be up in a few minutes, sit tight! By the way, does anyone know what those foam things that are used as pillows for the cadavers (and occasionally Gibbs) are called? I'm just curious.