It was dawn when I arrived back at my father's house, safe and away from the media and traffic. Thankfully not in the hospital overnight (I was about to sign off with the paramedics too, saying that I didn't want medical attention, but was relieved to hear that I could go), I had Gibbs and Tony (he kept insisting that I call him that instead of Very Special Agent DiNozzo) follow me back home to Alexandria. Technically in Virginia and not Maryland, just over the Woodrow Wilson Memorial Bridge and into the suburbs, I didn't try to lose Gibbs and Tony, especially since both were keen on being on my tail.

Being threatened to be tracked down by someone I was told was a sniper wasn't encouraging either. There were tracking skills involved with those and I had to give up trying to hide. I just didn't like them being in my business though and was afraid that Dad was going to try and kill me…and right in front of people too.

Worried, I pulled into the driveway, Tony and Gibbs behind me, I didn't seem surprised that Dad was outside, waiting for me, thinking about beating me and how, most likely. He had a cell phone in his hands with the house phone in his pocket (not charged, most likely), talking to someone. He was asking for help or for information, I could tell, and only had to see me to tell the person on the other side that he was all set.

"I'll talk to you later, Corporal," I heard Dad as I pulled in and put the car in park. "Tell them to call off the search. My daughter's home, safe and sound, it seems."

Mara popped her head out of the door too (back from her trip early, it seemed), a baby monitor hanging from her jean belt. Before Dad could yell at me about something, she banged the door open and ran past him and ripped open my car door before I could turn my engine off. She ignored Gibbs and Tony behind us, eager to see me alive and in her arms.

"Oh, Lyddy, we feared the worst!" Mara cried, dragging me up from my seat as soon as my seat belt was off. "We heard about the shootings at the Love and Felix called the house and thought that you were one of those people who –"

"As you can see, Captain, your daughter is fine." Gibbs (with Tony behind him) had come up from behind me after their car was safely parked, my father glaring at him with disdain as he stood behind Mara. "She was doing her job."

"And what might that be, Agent Gibbs?" Dad yelled, not caring about waking up Sammy inside or even the nosy neighbors. "Lydia works at the Georgetown Park part time. Her job is working at a retail store, folding clothes and ringing up purchases. I got her that job a couple of years ago, so that she didn't have to look for a job by herself. I helped her set up a bank account and taught her that she shouldn't be wasting her money. No, Gibbs, Lydia's job is to earn her living."

I exchanged looks between Dad and Gibbs, not knowing what to say. I didn't expect this lecture so early in the morning either, but a fight was about to begin. Mara looked to me and inquired without saying a word what was going on. I shrugged my shoulders, agitating my neck, and mouthed that events would be explained later. She even wanted to question me about my red skin, but left it alone.

"Either way," Gibbs replied, disregarding my father's comments, "Captain Sullivan, you've now become the last surviving member of the group of Marines that originally went to Haiti in 1996 to investigate the child sex trade."

"Wh-what?" Dad sounded like he couldn't quite get any words to come out of his mouth, he was that shocked for once. Mara and I just exchanged confused looks once more, she again wanting to know what was going on and I not knowing what it was about.

"Captain Richard Henderson was killed in 1995, as you know," Gibbs continued, without even showing that he saw the stunned look on Dad's face. "Colonel James Henderson, Major Vincent Flanders and Lieutenant Kyle Tellington have all been murdered by the same people recently. Captain, you're going to have to come with us for protective services. We believe that this murderer is targeting those who went to Haiti, amongst others involved in the case."

Mara spoke up. "Agent Gibbs, what about –?"

Gibbs turned to her. "Mara, you and your son are going to have to come with us as well."

"Are you telling me that I have to pack my bags, take my son away from everything he's ever known, and go into protective services for NCIS? And all because my father was involved in some investigation for a 'child sex trade' in Haiti that he never told us about?"

"Mara…" I began softly.

"No, Lyddy," Mara interrupted. "Look, I've been fed up with this military stuff for a while now. It's gotten too dangerous. It's cost four Marines' lives, plus more, and almost yours. I have a son now. And I've found out too much information to last me a lifetime, things that I thought I could never imagine and things that would threat us. I don't want to be a 'military family' anymore. I just want to be me, Mara Sullivan."

Tony snickered, about to say something sarcastic to woo the lovely elder Sullivan sister (who, by the way, looked pretty cute when she was angry). Gibbs, on the other hand, just glared in his direction and the Very Special Agent DiNozzo shut up.

"Mara," Dad tried manipulatively, petting her black hair as he stood in front of her, "you need to follow what these special agents say. Now, why don't you go inside and pack everything up? I'm sure that you can wake Sammy up and get his portable crib ready and put in the car. I don't think he'll notice a thing."

"Don't touch me!" Mara screeched, pushing Dad away and storming into the house.

I was at a loss for words as I sat there in my car, watching the action. I didn't know what to do, whether it be comforting my sister or helping her pack everything or what. If I punched Dad for what he did to Mara (like I've been itching to do for years), then there'd be a fight that Gibbs and Tony would have to break up (if Metro wasn't going to stop by for the domestic disturbance call and pick us both up). If I went inside with Mara, Dad will be on me like flies on shit, demanding that I'd tend him.

An idea went through my head, but I ignored it. I didn't want to bring up the past.

Tony cleared his throat as I climbed out of my car. "Captain, would you mind telling us about Haiti?"

"Not here," Dad replied quickly, looking left and right at the few passing cars and jumping a mile up when he heard a truck make a load noise down the road.

"Dad, it's just a truck," I finally blurted out, seeing my father visibly shake for the first time ever. Even his eyes looked wild, frantic, as if he was searching for something, a way out…

"No, it's not, Lyddy," Dad babbled, unsure of himself and where he was. "They're com–"

"Captain, are you all right?" Gibbs asked him worriedly.

Dad crumpled to the ground on his knees, his knuckles in his eyes. Then, his hands posing as if they had a radio in his hands, he kept repeating to his hand over and over again, "Zulu Alpha Yankee, we have Vietcong, I repeat, we have Vietcong coming this way. Do your read me? Dammit, are you listening? We have Vietcong overrunning our base –"

"Dad?" I went over to try to shake Dad's shoulder to wake him up, but Gibbs stopped me immediately, his eyes telling me not to do anything drastic.

"Boss, need me to call a VA?" Tony asked.

Gibbs waved his hand, as if to tell everyone to hold up a minute, and went over to Dad, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Marine, stand your ground. Stand –"

"They're surrounding the base and there's no way out!" Dad continued to yell. "We're going to be overrun by the Gooks –"

I put my hands over my ears and closed my eyes, not believing I was seeing and hearing. My abusive father, having a post-traumatic episode? I've never seen it before. He usually held his cool, using his training for his own purposes. He held this country's enemies as dead men and has always said that. Hell, he even said that if I was working against this country, he'd kill me the same way he would if I was disobeying him. It was all one and the same to him.

But to witness him go back in time, to a place where the best thing that could kill you was a poisonous snake or spider, was disturbing. And it all started when a truck bounced on the road, making a noise akin to an explosion. It almost reminded me of Mom when she heard certain songs from the time she was my age. All she would say was that it reminded her of gunfire and she turned the music off, staring blankly out without moving. It was just as disturbing even, to see your own parents with faults and flaws.

Gibbs couldn't calm him down after a few minutes of trying to talk Dad out of his nightmare. It was beyond his reach.

"Call the bus, DiNozzo," he finally said, walking back to his car and starting it up. "Get him on it and escort the children to the Navy Yard. Director's orders."

Children? Director's orders?

"Yeah, on it, Boss," Tony replied, dialing his phone and ignoring the writhing form of Captain Gregory Sullivan, a veteran of the Vietnam War and Desert Storm, as he called the VA bus.

~00~

With our things packed, Mara stuck Sammy and herself in the back seats of my car, the baby in his car seat, both sleeping peacefully and without fighting to leave. While I reversed the car and then drove back to DC, Tony took the passenger seat, poking and prodding at me until I was blue in the face yelling at him to stop. He almost acted like Jay in that way. It was the brotherly teasing that Mara and I always countered, but it was bound to get him into some serious trouble, especially if Sammy woke up crying.

I wasn't in the mood for anybody bothering me either. I had other things on my mind other than Keith, my crappy car and upcoming babysitting duties (Sammy). So, I turned the car radio on, aimlessly listening to anything that would offer me comfort, but found nothing of interest. So, I left it on a news station, not paying attention of the Iraqi War news or what President Bush was going to contradict today. Jay and his escapades in the Marines were far from my thoughts.

Tony saw it as soon as we hit traffic on the Woodrow Wilson Bridge, turning off the news as Mara snored lightly behind me. "You wanna talk about it?" he only asked me.

I sighed. "No, Tony. I'm fine."

"You know, in the Mel Gibson movie, Lethal Weapon 4 –"

"I know what F-I-N-E stands for, Tony," I interrupted. "I've seen all the movies."

"Anyhow…you know, I'm sorry about back there. It's sometimes a bit disturbing to see the failings in your parents. You think they're invincible, but they're not. There's always a chink in their armor."

"I never thought of my father as a 'knight in shiny armor'." I admitted quietly. "I always thought of him of an abusive, demanding drunk who pushed his kids around and controlled them. Oh, did I mention that he drove my mother to her death?"

"You know, I was wondering where she was."

"Been gone for a year now, Tony, and I wish I could see her everyday."

"I miss mine too. My father sent me away after she died. Been to a bunch of boarding schools since then before I escaped."

If I didn't have a good footing on the brake pedal as we slowed towards the block of traffic, I would have let it go and let the car hit the one in front of us. I was shocked, hiding it as I stopped the car behind the ridiculous wall of metal in front of us that wasn't moving. Tony opening up to me like that was surprising. It almost made me feel sorry for the man in a way. He understood something much better than I did and was able to empathize.

"My father just told me to stop hiding in my room after Mom died and had me come visit Colonel Henderson with him," I said carefully, trying not to trend into dangerous waters. "I was the one who found her after school, hanging from the ceiling. She was listening to music and I thought that she wasn't drunk for once, but she left it on long enough to drown out the noises she made as she died."

"Mom! Mom! Wake up! Where are your clothes?! No, please, wake up. Mom? Mom! Oh, God, Mom, you can't be dead. Don't be dead, please…"

"That must be tough," Tony replied sympathetically as the image disappeared in my head.

"You don't know the half of it," I replied softly, wanting to get off the topic.

"I know some of what it feels."

I ignored his last comment, asking instead, "So, can you tell me about the Marine officer that was murdered last night? Now, what was his name again?"

"Lieutenant Kyle Tellington," Tony answered instantly, glad to be off the subject as I was. "Now, I don't know what I can tell you. I don't know if you'll change the issue on me purposely again and –"

"Ok, ok, Tony, if I promise not to change the subject on you again, do you promise to tell me all you know about the lieutenant?"

"Maybe, if you can tell me how you got such beautiful red hair…"

"Tony! Do you want to deal with a jealous ex Air Force bomb tech?"

"Was it dyed? Ooo, do I see some grey hairs in there?"

"Tony! I'm serious!"

"Well, my questions are legitimate." Tony frowned, almost pouting as we both heard Mara moan behind us. "If you answer my questions, I can answer yours."

I sighed with frustration, knowing that we weren't moving anytime soon and that I was kinda cornered. "Ok, ok. My hair is its natural color. It wasn't dyed or anything. My mother had red hair, almost the color of a carrot. There, satisfied?"

Tony thought for a moment, but I knew he wasn't done yet. "So, how does your sister end up with jet-black hair with the shine?"

"Tony! You promised to answer my question. I answered yours. A deal's a deal."

Really, now? We made a deal?"

I screamed in aggravation, punching my car horn with all of my strength. But instead of getting the satisfaction I wanted, I ended up with cars blowing theirs at me. Mara's snoring turned up in volume and Sammy whimpered a little. While talking with Tony was becoming agitating, it was also grating on my nerves, especially with traffic this bad.

"Ok, ok, Lyddy…can I call you Lyddy?" Tony looked apologetic, but I knew better. In the few days that I knew him, I noticed how much he loved to aggravate and pull somebody's leg. It seemed like this time was no different.

"Tony, you have two seconds to tell me about Lieutenant Kyle Tellington or else I'm gonna have to give Gibbs a good reason why I threw you out of the car in the middle of the Woodrow Wilson Bridge traffic and into the waters. And he's going to be blaming you for losing us. You understand? Are we crystal clear now?"

It took those two seconds for Tony to sober up and realize how serious I was. "Yeah, yeah, we are. Now, about Lieutenant Tellington, before you throw me out of your car. We found him on the second floor, near the men's bathroom. He was the only casualty on that floor. All the others were on the third floor. Well, there were wounded people from the second floor up, but there were seven people we found dead at the Love, one of them in the barrel you were just hiding behind."

I pressed the unlock button on my car, readying my foot to brake and hand to put the car in park. I beefed myself up for throwing him out.

"Ok, ok, Lydia. I get it," Tony said, seeing the seriousness on my face. "Now, Tellington's hand looked poised to open the door, as if to hide, but he missed, and his hand remained like that postmortem. He was like the other Maine victim, shot in the head and chest several times and hung by on the ceiling by his feet. There was something different about this scene though."

"What?" I started tapping the steering wheel with my hands like a drum.

"It looks like, before he died, he wrote in his own blood on the wall. His right pointing finger was covered in his own blood, like he cut himself there to tell us something."

"Well, what did he supposedly write?"

"There isn't quite a message. It just looks like an O or a C or something. Nobody can tell."

My hands froze on the steering wheel. "You think he was trying to leave the name of the shooter or something?"

"My gut is telling me that."

"Uh-huh." I shook my head, scattering the shock that locked itself in my head, laughing. "Tony, do you realize that you've indulged the specifics of a case to a civilian? What do you think Gibbs is going to do when he finds out?"

"You mean, when Madame Director finds out what I've done," Tony replied miserably, his head hung low in mock shame.

"Madame Director?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Well, we're not supposed to be calling her that, but she's fine. She's cool with it."

"Uh-huh." I didn't believe him. "So, Gibbs doesn't care, but your 'Madame Director' would. Why? I'm not really helping with this case."

"No, but you've been volunteered," Tony corrected me. "Gibbs picks and chooses who he wants to put on his team when Madam Director becomes interested in someone. And seeing the way he seeks you out and has you do things, well…you're looking like our new Probie."

"I didn't 'volunteer' for anything though, Tony," I only said, still not accepting what Gibbs told me the night before.

"You don't 'volunteer' for anything, Lydia," Tony amended. "Gibbs finds a way to get you to do what he wants. It's all for the better. Trust me. You'll be fine. You'll do well."

"I only wish I could live up to his expectations then," I replied quietly, putting the car into motion once more as traffic finally moved forward.