Look at this with a healthy dose of 'everything will eventually be explained'. This chapter is meant to be slightly more humorous, along with a dose of what you get if you startle Jay awake and how Tony reacts to Jay being hurt. Oh, and C-Cl-4 is Carbon tetrachloride, a toxic cleaning agent, and I'm sure we all know what ammonia is.

I looked over at where Jay had settled into a chair in what looked to be a very uncomfortable position. Her neck was rested on the top of the backrest, her feet were on my desk and her upper back and shoulders weren't touching anything. Her eyes were closed, and she was obviously going for another catnap. Gibbs walked in and kicked the base of the chair causing it to scoot backwards and Jay to slip from it and end up on the floor. She glared up at my boss, and with the swift change of facial expression, I nearly missed her grimace of pain.

"You're evil," she stated firmly. "That wasn't nice."

"Now's not the time to be napping," Gibbs pointed out.

"Why not?"

"You're not the one with an assassin after you!"

"Meh, Samurai's second-rate. He got complacent after he joined O'Reilly. You could beat him up with one hand."

"I didn't do so well against him the last time I met him."

"You weren't expecting him. You'll be expecting him next time. Besides, I always have assassins after me. Wanted by a lot of people. Doesn't exactly make for easy sleeping, I figure a federal building is probably the best place. Unless…are you intending to kill me?" Jay's look of comical innocence crossed with a distinct watering had Gibbs blinking.

I tried not to burst out laughing, I really did, but the way Jay's glance flicked to me and her eyebrows shot up in another comical expression did it and I fell out of my seat to join her on the floor. She aimed a casual punch at my arm, settling against the side of my desk gingerly and stealing my cap from the bottom draw of my filing cabinet to pull low over her eyes.

"Besides, there's not much I can really do. I'm not an investigator. I generally get my intel from snitches, or from spending hours on cliffs or rooftops with a sniper rifle and a radio. And right now, my snitches are avoiding me thanks to O'Reilly being in town, and there's no-one I can stake out."

"Of course," Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Seeing as we don't have a clue where O'Reilly and his lackeys are."

Jay gave a non-committal sound and crossed her arms over her chest, slumping further down the side of the desk.

"Trade the cap for a Stetson and you could be a cowboy in the old west," I noted.

"Yup, but there's no Stetson here to use, so I'll settle with the cap."

I grinned at her as I retook my seat and went back to trying to figure out where in hell's name O'Reilly and Samurai were. I had a feeling Jay knew more than she was letting on, but she wasn't talking so I was stuck with good old fashioned detective work. Gibbs snarled down at her as she seemed to drift off into sleep. I focused on my computer, ignoring the assassin asleep beside my desk.

Half an hour later, chaos arrived in the bullpen, courtesy of McGee forgetting Jay had her legs stretched across the gap between our desks, and tripping over said legs. This startled Jay into action as she came up, grabbing my gun, and her own knife, knocking McGee from his feet with a sweep of her legs and pinning him down with one knee, her knife at his throat and the gun resting on his forehead. Gibbs moved forward, clearly intent on pulling Jay off McGee, which sent Jay into a roll back off McGee to come to her feet in a guarded position, knife arm held tight to her body, gun pointed at the new threat.

"Jay," I stated, not bothering to really look up. "Stand down. NCIS. Federal agency. They're not about to kill you."

"I bet they probably want to though," Jay pointed out shakily as she obeyed. "Sorry. Force of habit."

"Do you generally do that to people who startle you awake?" Kate asked.

"It's why I normally have at least three locked and deadbolted doors between me and the outside world if I'm sleeping. Makes it harder for people to startle me awake. Be thankful I was semi-aware. If I'd been on full auto-pilot Probie and Cancrach would both have bullet holes in them right now."

"That was you controlled?"

"You don't want to see what a distracted assassin can do when startled," I offered. "It looks like a Bosch painting plus blood." I leered. "Either that or you end up in bed with them."

"I've never ended up in bed with you," Jay protested, then paused. "Wait…that's bullshit, there was that one time…but we were both drunk…and Indy was there as well…and just as drunk as us…that was a good night…"

I reached out and hit Jay upside the head.

"What was that for?"

"Now is not the time to be discussing that."

"There's a bad time to discuss sex?"

"There is when it's involving you and I'm sober."

"Ouch! I think there might've been an insult in there somewhere!"

I could tell that Jay was baiting me. I stood up, leant forward and brought my hand down on the centre of her back. I was completely expecting the fist to the face that I didn't get, not the pained grimace and wince, her eyes flickering closed and her teeth cutting into her bottom lip that I actually got.

"We're going to see Ducky," I stated, stepping around my desk and grabbing her arm to drag her down to autopsy. We made it into the elevator before she yanked her arm away from me.

"Not happening," she growled at me. "I'm fine."

I reached out and hit the emergency stop. "Uh-huh. You know I'm not going to believe that one. I know you Jay."

"You're still not dragging me down to Autopsy. I'm not dead. …not yet anyway…"

"It's the last part of that statement that worries me."

"Dear, my death risk equals incredibly high. My survival risk is considerably lower. I'm avoiding morgues like the plague. I figure I'll see it soon enough anyway, so I'm not seeing it any sooner than I have to."

"At least let me take a look at your back?"

"It's fine. So long as people don't start beating up on it."

"And if someone does?"

Jay shot me a look, and then stretched. "Then I guess it's up to you to get my ass outta the fire."

"That's if I'm there. What do you do if I'm not?"

"Die."

It was said with a finality that I would've found chilling if I hadn't already figured that to be her answer. She shrugged and reached out to haul me into a hug. I hooked my arms around her lower back, pulling her closer and burying my face in her shoulder – her top smelt faintly of gun oil and sweat. It was a strangely comforting mix, reminding me of the old days.

"I'll be fine," she whispered, one hand stroking the back of my head, the other drawing soothing circles on my shoulder. "We both knew I didn't have a long life expectancy. Leaving the O'Reilly's just means it got a bit shorter for me. But I'm good. You know I'm good. I'll be fine."

She kept up the soothing mantra until I pulled away, at which point she smiled at me.

"Let's just avoid the morgue huh?"

"Agreed," I nodded. "Let's get back to the bullpen before Gibbs sues me for copyright infringement."

"Copyright infringement?" Jay blinked at me, confused.

"He's the one who always uses this lift as a conference room."

"I see…"

I frowned as I hit the emergency stop. "At least…I think that's what him and Fornell are doing in here, I hope it is…"

"Gibbs and Fornell, up a tree," Jay sang, "K, I, S, S, I, N, G. First comes-"

"Stop! Just stop now!"

"-Love, then comes marriage-"

"Please stop Jay, for the love of-!"

"-Then comes a baby in a gold-"

The elevator doors opened at that point and I shoved Jay out of them, following her. "You and me are going to spend some quality time in the gym, comprendi?"

"Ooh, I'm so scared!"

"After I go and scour my brain with C-Cl-4!"

"That's a bit dangerous dear…"

"Don't care, got to get these images out somehow!"

"What?" Jay offered with wide, innocent eyes. "I was just offering a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why…"

"You finish that sentence and I will force-feed you ammonia!"

Jay was wise enough to take my word for that one and shut up, but the infuriating smirk on her lips told me I hadn't heard the last of it. Gibbs, Kate and McGee were staring at us. We looked back at them, then at each other, then back at the three stood watching us.

"Think we should tell them that the easiest way to get most of this information would to be going back to Murphy's and threatening the bartenders?" Jay asked in an offhand tone.

"Not happening," Gibbs snarled. "There's no-way in hell you're going back there, and certainly not to threaten someone."

"You threaten people all the time," I offered.

"I suspect," Jay mused, "that he probably doesn't then carry those threats out regardless of whether he got what he wanted."

I hit her upside the head. "What do you need me to do boss?"

"Your job," Gibbs growled out. I shared a quick look with Jay and headed for my desk.

"I'm going to hit the gym," Jay replied. "Need a quality workout if we're going to be going up against the O'Reilly's."

Three quarters of an hour later, I went up to join Jay in the gym. She'd drawn a crowd as she kick-boxed the crap out of a punching bag. I smirked to myself, quickly wrapped my hands and moved in, grabbing her and relocating her to the mats. She moved away from me and ducked into a guarded position.

"This that quality time in the gym you promised me?" her eyes were alight, a playful smile on her lips.

"You bet it is," I replied watching as she bounced easily on the balls of her feet, waiting for her to move.

If you ever want lessons on how not to telegraph your moves, go to an assassin. It doesn't matter whether or not they're melee combat trained, they're still damn good brawlers at worst, and bloody good fighters at best. They also know how not to telegraph their moves – having learnt either the easy way or the hard way. The easy way: watching other people get the crap beaten out of them when they telegraph a move. The hard way: getting the crap beaten out of them for telegraphing a move.

We circled each other, and I gave Jay a quick once over and noticed she was bare knuckle, bare foot, in other words, she was all in. Looked like I'd be doing this at the peril of revealing more than I wanted to. She moved, aiming a kick for my ribs. I danced to one side and threw a punch towards her face. She blocked easily, knocking my hand to one side and going as if to jerk her head into my nose. I backed off quickly and aimed a second punch towards her side. She reacted by grabbing my wrist and twisting, throwing me to the ground. I rolled backwards, flicking my wrist to free myself from the hold. She retreated, darting back across the mat and settling into a lower stance, beckoning me towards her. I smirked and shook my head, choosing to circle. Jay circled with me, waiting for me to make my move.

The crowd had grown – now that we'd taken it to the mats, and now that we weren't really doing any specific martial art, but a mish-mash of all the fighting forms we knew. We weren't pulling our punches either, throwing them out as hard as we would if we were in a real fight, not a training one. Jay moved in close, grabbing my neck to start grappling, throwing a punch into my stomach and following it up with her knee before hauling my head down to try and knee it. I grabbed her knee before she could make contact and used it to throw her. She went into a backwards roll, coming back to her feet far enough away to recover before I could get close enough to throw a punch. So I kicked at her, she ducked under my kick, coming up directly under my leg, her neck catching my ankle, throwing my balance and sending me onto my ass. I was back on my feet in an instant, a low growl emanating in my throat. Her eyes lit up with eager anticipation. I circled again, taking the time to pull the wraps off my hands, they were just getting in my way. Jay had settled into a stance that was half bare-knuckle boxing, half something else as she circled me. I adopted a similar stance smirking at her as I knew I out-powered her. We were pretty evenly matched, but she was more used to evasion tactics, and cheating moves that used her opponent's strength against them than full frontal assaults and carefully powered blows. For a while we moved around one another, Jay doing her best to avoid my blows, and offering lighting fast jabs to my back as she danced behind me. Finally, I threw a punch that knocked Jay backwards, making her head snap up as it caught her jaw.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs' voice cut across my thoughts and the next thing I knew, Jay had me on the floor in a rather secure strangle hold, putting enough pressure that spots were starting to dance in front of my eyes.

"Sloppy!" she chided in a quiet tone. "Never get distracted, not by people yelling at you, not by anything. For crying out bloody loud. You taught me that!"

We split apart, and Jay climbed to her feet rather than rolling like she normally would. She offered me her hand, hauling me upright and grinning.

"You got me good, gonna have a right good bruise on my cheek this time tomorrow."

"You would if you bruised," I pointed out, flexing my shoulder gingerly. "I think you pulled something out of joint!"

"Man up Tony! You want the world thinking I'm tougher than you?"

"You are," I commented as we came to a stop in front of Gibbs and Ducky.

"What did you two think you were doing?" Ducky demanded. We shared a look before looking back to the Doctor.

"Training?" Jay hazarded.

"With that punch Anthony just threw? And the strangle hold you put him in?"

"That strangle hold was a training hold! I didn't knock him out! And as for his punch, I take worse from some of the guys I train with on a regular basis. They actually leave bruises!"

"Ouch!" I protested, punching her arm hard. "I'm sorry if I didn't want to give you a concussion!"

"Concussion? I think my brain's asking why I don't have one!"

"Children!" Ducky snapped at us. "Can we both focus for a moment? Anthony, what's wrong with your shoulder?"

"I wrenched something in it," I shrugged – then regretted that as pain shot through my shoulder. "A couple of painkillers and all will be well…"

"Hm, well, I want to check it out before you finish getting changed."

I noticed that Jay followed us into the men's locker room and perched herself on one of the sinks while Ducky got me out of my shirt.

"Leave," Gibbs ordered Jay curtly.

"I'm not one of your lackeys Agent Gibbs," she retorted coolly. "You don't get to order me around. Hades had trouble doing that, why would you be any different?"

"Did you just call me a lackey?" I asked her. She considered it.

"Yeah, think I did. Problem? When he tells you to jump, you're three foot in the air asking how high."

"Within reason."

"Fair point, I doubt you'd shoot someone just because he told you to. You'd want a decent reason."

"Most the times he's telling me to shoot people there is…ow! Ducky that hurt!"

"Did it?" Ducky asked innocently as Jay chuckled quietly. "Dearie me, well, I think some painkillers should do the job…"

"You're not related to a Francesca Western-Summers are you? I mean, she's one hell of a mean Doc…runs our Med-Centre, takes alarming and sadistic pleasure in putting pressure on any wounds I receive…"

"I don't derive any pleasure out of young Anthony hurting my dear."

"I see…that's what Demeter says as well…"

"I thought you said her name was Francesca Western-Summers?" Gibbs frowned over at Jay.

"Yeah, but I'm not supposed to know that. She is one of high command."

"Then how do you know?"

"I steal personnel files. I like to know who's poking and prodding at me. And seeing as I'm one of Sector Three, Dee generally does all the work on us unless there's been a turf war…"

Gibbs shot her an odd look.

"Sector Three's the smallest, and unless we've been in the middle of a warzone and there's heavy casualties, Dee can normally patch us all up herself. And even when she can't, there's a limited number of her staff she'll let near us when we're injured. Most of them are actually black-belts in one or other martial art…" Jay blinked at Gibbs. "What? Injured assassins really don't like being touched. We're too paranoid. You're too vulnerable, too open when you're injured, so you fight back. So Dee makes sure the people we're fighting can respond in kind. We're generally pretty thankful for it."

"How so?" Ducky asked curiously.

Jay grinned. "It means Dee can't yell when we accidentally beat up one of her staff. It tires her out."

"Miss Carson," Ducky looked up. "Take a seat, I want to take a look at your jaw."

"Why?"

"Because Anthony here didn't pull his last punch."

"Neither did I, hence the chokehold."

Ducky gave her an even stare and then looked pointedly at the bench where I'd just been sitting, before returning his gaze to her. After about three minutes she gave a tiny 'meep' and scuttled over to the bench.

"You are related to Demeter. And if you're not, remind me to never introduce the two of you. The world would be doomed. Or at least…people who don't like medical care professionals… It's not anything personal Doc, it's just that we don't take too kindly to people poking and prodding at us. Ow!" She snapped the last bit as his fingers pressed to strongly on her cheekbone. Her fingers had caught into the belt hoop on her jeans.

I smirked at Jay. "Not laughing now are we?"

"Of course not."

"Stop talking," Ducky ordered, and Jay obeyed meekly, her head almost ducking. After a few minutes prodding, Ducky pronounced Jay's jaw fine, told me to rest my throat and shoulder, and gave us orders to go back to mine and get showers. Gibbs started to protest, but quickly quietened down after Ducky shot him a particularly spectacular glare.

We made it back to mine with no trouble and I offered Jay the use of my en suite – an offer she took gratefully, mumbling something about tense muscles, and the need for a bath. I shook my head fondly, grabbed what I needed from my en suite and headed for the hall shower room.

Ten minutes later, it occurred to me that the feeling in the shower room was off.

Dun-dun-duuh!