A/N: A million thanks once again for all of the reviews, PMs, and alerts! I am truly, truly humbled! Between work, writing and reading so many other great stories I may not have responded to every review. I try to answer each one, and I do read them all, but lately my inbox has been overflowing with great fics and reviews! If I did not respond personally, a big thank you!

Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable characters or places and I am making no money from this work of fiction. No copyright infringement intended.


Ch 29:

The next morning, dressed conservatively in a dark blue suit, starched white dress shirt, striped necktie, and spit-polished shoes, a clean-shaven Stan stood before a federal judge at his arraignment and offered a plea of not guilty. If not for the shiny metal cuffs binding his wrists, Stan could have easily passed himself off as one of the attorneys.

He had spent a mostly sleepless night in a cold, drafty holding cell staring up at the ceiling and trying to make sense of what was happening to him. None of it made any sense. Aggravated murder? The idea that anyone who knew him would think him remotely capable of committing cold-blooded murder was unfathomable. He had no criminal record to speak of except for a few drunken misadventures when he was in high school, but his juvenile record had been expunged. Other than a few traffic citations, his record as an adult was spotless.

Now it looked like thinking with his dick again had gotten him into serious trouble, and truth be told, he saw no way out. With no one to verify his alibi of being home alone at the time of the murder, he knew his situation was dire. He simply could not fathom being accused of the brutal murder of a United States Marine. Not just any Marine, but the very one he had casually hooked-up with the night he was murdered. The autopsy photo that Fornell had laid out in front of him was etched in his mind. James? Jason? No, his name was Josh, right? Stan's only guilt was that he couldn't even remember the poor guy's name.

As he finally succumbed to a fitful sleep, Stan had an epiphany of sorts. Tony! God, he had been such an idiot thinking that after all of the pain and heartache he caused with his selfish act of betrayal that Tony would even give him the time of day. Gone forever was the inexperienced young lover who had so sweetly and willingly placed his heart and trust in his hands. Losing Tony, or more accurately throwing him away for a quick meaningless fuck, would forever be his biggest regret. Tony's love and faithful devotion had been a wonderful gift, and Tony deserved to be cherished, not taken for granted. Stan found it oddly comforting that Tony's heart was now safe and belonged irrevocably to Gibbs, who he knew would protect it no matter what it took.


After 30 years on the bench, The Honorable Margaret P. Elliott had heard every conceivable excuse and argument, along with countless assurances that each defendant brought before her was "a pillar of the community and completely innocent of the charges" against them. She was personable and well-respected for being a tough but fair jurist. There were only two rules in her courtroom, which were strictly enforced: No "Perry Mason" theatrics, and proper courtroom etiquette and decorum were to be observed at all times.

As expected, Assistant U.S. Attorney Lange argued that the defendant should be remanded into federal custody until trial. "Your Honor, the defendant is charged with aggravated murder, with the victim being a decorated United States Marine. DNA evidence links him directly to the crime. He also has contacts worldwide and should be considered a high flight risk," Lange stated.

Hart countered with an impassioned plea for leniency. "Your Honor, my client has served honorably as a federal agent for the last fifteen years. His service record is impeccable. I would like to call into question the alleged DNA evidence the prosecution intends to present to this Court. What Mr. Lange fails to mention is that DNA from a second as yet unknown person was also found on the victim's body. That alone creates reasonable doubt. We are agreeable to reasonable bail, and my client is even willing to submit to electronic monitoring."

Judge Elliott was not easily moved and did not hesitate when making her ruling. "Sorry Ms. Hart, but due to the heinous nature of the charges before this court bail is denied. The defendant is hereby remanded. However, considering the defendant's law enforcement background, I am ordering that the defendant be placed in protective custody. Counselors, I will see both of you in my chambers in one hour. I will hear any motions you have at that time. Let's get this matter set for trial. We're adjourned," Judge Elliott ordered before bringing her gavel down with authority.

Hart turned to a deflated Stan and patted his arm as he was cuffed and taken into custody by two U.S. Marshals. "Don't worry. This isn't a big surprise. I'm not done fighting. I'll see you when we're done in chambers," she said trying to offer a modicum of comfort.

Stan nodded his understanding then requested desperately, "Make that call for me, will you? Please?" Hart nodded solemnly in response.

As the Marshals steered Stan away from the defense table, Hart packed up her briefcase then strode down the aisle on her way out of the courtroom. She pulled her phone from her small clutch handbag and was about to make a call, but stopped short when she looked up to find Gibbs standing at the back of the gallery leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"Mr. Gibbs! My, this is a surprise. I was just about to call you," she said with one delicately penciled eyebrow raised as she purposefully strode up to him.

"I was in the neighborhood," Gibbs responded with a dismissive shrug.

After a brief staring contest Hart huffed then asked, "Can we talk? Outside?"

Gibbs said nothing as he pushed the massive polished walnut door open then followed her out into the rotunda. It wasn't until they were past security and midway down the massive granite courthouse steps that Hart stopped and turned to face him.

"He wants to talk to you. As his attorney I must advise against it, but he insists. Mr. Gibbs, no matter what you think of me - or him, he deserves a chance to prove his innocence," Hart announced.

Surprised by the unexpected request, Gibbs furrowed his brow and cocked his head. "And after everything he's done, you expect me to help him," he asked incredulously. "Counselor, the last time your client had something to tell me, it was a pack of lies. So what can he possibly have to say now that would make me want to do a goddam thing to help him?"

Dropping her head to avoid the steely look of contempt leveled at her, Hart replied in an uncharacteristically soft tone, "He won't tell me. Whatever it is he says he'll only talk to you. Please, Agent Gibbs."

Narrowing his eyes, wary of the apparent genuine show of concern, Gibbs stated coolly, "I'll think about it, but don't hold your breath." Gibbs pinned Hart in place with an accusing glare before abruptly turning and descending the stone steps.

Hart stood holding her briefcase and slowly blew out a breath as she watched Gibbs get into a dark blue sedan and drive off.


"Hey Boss! Where you been?" Tony greeted cheerfully after hanging up his phone. He smiled up at Gibbs when he appeared in front of his desk. "We were about to go grab some lunch. You wanna come with?"

"I was just at the courthouse," Gibbs stated matter-of-factly.

"And," Tony asked softly and warily, his smile morphing into a deep frown.

Noticing that McGee and Ziva had stood and were also paying rapt attention, Gibbs announced, "The judge denied bail. He'll be locked up for the duration."

"Oh thank God," McGee said as he dropped back down into his chair with a heavy sigh and a hand over his heart.

"This is good news," Ziva stated, a hint of relief evident in her voice. Satisfying as it had been to witness Stan's arrest, she had been prepared to take any steps necessary to protect Tony, and Gibbs by extension, in the event Stan made bail.

Blowing out a nervous breath Tony stood and came around the desk. "Well that's good I guess, but there's more - isn't there?"

Gibbs nodded then jerked his head and tugged Tony's arm. "Yeah Tony, there is. Come with me."

"Meet you guys out front in a minute," Tony called over his shoulder as he followed Gibbs to the semi-secluded area behind the stairs. He waited patiently while Gibbs appeared to struggle with his thoughts.

Finally, Gibbs sighed and said, "Stan wants to talk to me - alone. Whatever it is he won't tell his lawyer. Says he'll only talk to me."

Tony frowned again but nodded and stood tall. "M'kay. When?"

"This afternoon. I wanted to talk to you about it first before agreeing to see him. Tony, I won't go see him if you don't want me to," Gibbs stated, reaching for and then abandoning his intent to grab and hold Tony's hand.

Tony smirked and stepped closer until he was dangerously in Gibbs' personal space. "You know, we could have taken this little chat into the elevator. More private in there," he purred as he brushed the back of his hand against Gibbs'.

Stepping back and seeing a mix of desperation and determination in the icy blue eyes he loved so much, Tony consented.

"Okay. I'm sure he has another fascinating story to tell you. Just promise me you won't be too long? And then when you get back, we can get the hell out of here? It's Friday, we're off rotation this weekend, and I really want to get you alone as soon as possible."

Gibbs grinned back and waggled his eyebrows. "Oh, I think we'll have plenty of alone time this weekend. I'll give him one hour – tops," he crooned in Tony's ear.

Feeling bold, Tony made a show of looking around to make sure they weren't being observed. Seeing that the coast was clear, he planted the quickest of kisses on Gibbs' lips then backed away with smoldering eyes. Poking a finger in the middle of Gibbs' chest, he replied, "One hour, well, plus drive time, of course, and then you are all mine."


Gibbs tossed a thick manila folder containing McGee's report on the table and lounged back in the hard plastic chair with his arms crossed over his chest. As much as he dreaded hearing whatever fanciful tale Stan had to tell, one thing was going to be made perfectly clear: He wasn't going to leave until he got some answers. As he waited, Gibbs closed his eyes and listened to the symphony of sounds – the jingling of keys, metal scraping and clanging against metal as cell doors were slid open and closed, and hundreds of comingled voices – that were the soundtrack to a day in the life in prison.

He sat up when he heard the distinct sound of a key turning the tumblers of the heavy lock on thick steel door of the relatively private cell-like room. Hart had arranged for him to meet with Stan in the room ordinarily reserved for confidential attorney-client meetings instead of the large, open common visitor's room.

"Thanks for agreeing to see me, Gibbs," Stan said tiredly as he shuffled into the room escorted by a tall, bald headed, guard.

Gibbs was taken aback by the full complement of wrist and leg irons attached to a heavy chain cinched around Stan's narrow waist. Seeing someone who was once considered a trusted colleague and friend wearing bright orange prison scrubs and full-body shackles hit Gibbs harder than he wanted to admit. He felt a sudden pang of regret and sympathy, but he tamped that down quickly.

"Unless you've got more than another bullshit story to tell me Stan, this is gonna be an awfully short visit," Gibbs replied impatiently, crossing his arms again and kicking out the chair across the table from where he sat and waited.

Stan took a seat and rested his bound hands on the cool stainless steel table top. "I need you to look into a guy named Jeremiah Zacek. He's a veteran; a green shirt on the Reagan. He was one of the guys I told you about; the ones who beat the shit out of me."

Huffing at Stan's nerve asking him for a favor, Gibbs pulled out the 8x10 glossy photos of Zacek and Walters and slapped them down on the table along with his copy of McGee's report.

"Yeah, I know all about him. Had McGee look into that little sob story you laid on me and Tony. Zacek was one of XO Willmont's enforcers. He and this guy were into all kinds of shit. So what? Most of your story was bullshit, so what's the point of looking this guy up now?"

Stan sat back with a sigh. Brushing the photos to the side, he picked up McGee's report and skimmed over the summary and the first few pages before tossing it back on the table.

"Yeah, I figured you would – if I left enough holes. Isn't that one of your rules? Always verify? Not everything I told you was bullshit though. You just need to dig a little deeper. Gibbs, I think Zacek set me up," he exclaimed, stabbing his finger on Zacek's picture for emphasis.

Gibbs' eyebrows shot up and he leaned forward to look Stan directly in the eye, looking for any sign that he was being played. "What? Why?" he barked.

"I caught him beating up on a couple of newbie blue shirts. Walters was just standing there as a lookout I guess. I'd just gotten back to the carrier after spending six months working an op with a team in Cairo. I'm thinking the newbies saw something they shouldn't have. Of course, they were scared shitless and refused to press charges, but I decided it was time to put a stop to it. When he was alive, Willmont kept those two idiots in line, but with him gone it was anything goes. Hell, for all I know Zacek could have been the one to put a bullet in Willmont's head! Jesus Christ," Stan shouted as he shot out of his chair and started pacing.

Gibbs sat back and silently watched Stan's every move as he became more agitated. He gave nothing away even though, so far, Stan's explanation was backed up by McGee's report.

Stan shook his head and snorted in disbelief. "I was tired of their bullshit, so I took a chance and went straight to Commander Liddell. He took over when Stovic retired. Anyway, word got back to Zacek. He apparently decided to get payback and paid me a little visit after chow a couple of nights later. I was expecting it and made sure I was ready for him when he showed up. Thankfully, the Air Boss came looking for him and broke up the fight. I wanted to keep it quiet, but Liddell got wind of it anyway and filed his own disciplinary report. Zacek got busted down in rank and pay and swore that somehow, someway, he'd make me pay for it."

Dropping back in his chair, Stan met Gibbs' eyes. "Look Gibbs, this guy hates gays. I've had a lot of time to think about everything that's happened since the day I stepped off the ship. I'll bet my last fucking cent that Zacek and Walters are the ones who took off with that kid in San Diego and beat the shit out of him. Wouldn't surprise me if they didn't do the same to this guy Markham! Zacek is crazy and I wouldn't put anything past him. Gibbs, think about it; same ports-of-call, same M.O. What are the odds that I happen to fuck a guy and right afterward they end up getting the shit beat out them and dumped in the middle of nowhere? C'mon Gibbs, even you have to admit that's one hell of a coincidence?"

"So you admit that you did have sex with Joshua Markham the night he was murdered? Where? Tell me, Stan – all of it, and don't leave anything out," Gibbs demanded. He then sat back listened intently as Stan ran down everything he did the night Markham was murdered.

"I hung out at Max's Pub for a while then decided to head over to DuPont Circle. Needed a distraction so I went to this club I heard about called "Jazzie's". I was there for maybe half an hour when this guy comes up to me at the bar and starts flirting. I bought him a drink. We talked for a while then danced to a couple of songs. It was pretty obvious he was looking for the same thing I was – just a quick hookup. I could tell right off the bat he was a Marine, or at least military. We found in an empty booth back in a corner and started making out. After a while he suggested leaving. Said he wanted to have sex in the park across the street. I thought it was kind of kinky, but whatever – I've never had a problem with sex in public. I spent about an hour or so with the guy. I sucked him off then fucked him on and over a picnic table. When we were done, he offered me a smoke. We talked for a while, but didn't exchange numbers or anything. Hell, I couldn't remember his name until you just mentioned it. It was a casual hookup, that's it! Anyway, it was getting late so we went our separate ways. When we got to my car I kissed him, then got in and drove off. He was still standing in the parking lot waving at me. That's the last time I saw him Gibbs, I swear to God!"

Gibbs has remained stoic throughout Stan's recitation. When Stan was finished, Gibbs leaned forward until they were nearly nose to nose over the table. With a dubious growl Gibbs asked, "So you're telling me you have no idea how he ended up dead on the confidence course at Quantico?"

Stan looked Gibbs dead in the eye and barked, "Of course not! Jesus Christ, Gibbs! All I can tell you is we fucked, had a smoke, and talked. That's it! Whatever happened to him after I left, I have no fucking idea!"

Gibbs was incredulous. "Well then why the hell haven't you told your damn lawyer any of this? Why didn't you say anything to Fornell?"

Stan groaned and let his head fall back. "Two reasons. One, she wouldn't let me say a damn word, and two because she'd go off half-cocked and get herself killed. Look, if you don't want to help me then talk to Agent Fornell. From what I just read of your boy McGee's report, he's turning into a damn good investigator. He got a good start, now you just need to dig deeper into that asshole Zacek. I know you hate me and would love to see them stick a needle in my arm, but I'm not fucking around here, Gibbs! I may be a lot of things, but I am not a murderer!"

Gibbs cocked his head and stared at Stan, who never broke eye contact. "And if Zacek is the killer, then what? You get off and make another move on Tony?"

Stan slumped back in his chair and said softly, "No. I swear to God if you and the feds can make a case against Zacek stick, and I manage to get out of this mess, I'm gone. I give you my word, Gibbs, as a friend. You just tell me how far, and I'll go."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes and again crossed his arms over his chest. "And if we can't pin anything on him, just how far are you and that bitch Hart willing to go? You know as well as I do she's gonna drag me, Tony, Abby, and anyone else at NCIS she can think of into court."

Stan's head shot up and he looked at Gibbs with impossibly wide eyes. "I won't let that happen. Look, there's time to at least start an investigation and dig up more on Zacek and Walters. I'd start with Walters. Scuttlebutt is he's short; only four months and he'll be out. You just might get him to roll over on his old buddy. From what I know, he never did anything without Zacek calling the shots. When that asshole wasn't around Walters seemed like a pretty okay guy most of the time. Don't get me wrong, he was a major dick, but I think he's as scared of Zacek as anyone. Just talk to him, please? I'll be fine here, Gibbs. They're putting me in protective custody."

Gibbs put the file back together then stood to leave. He studied Stan for a minute then leaned over the table and pinned him in place with a glare. "You know, Stan, a lot of people are going through hell right now because of you."

Looking suitably contrite, Stan bowed his head and replied softly, "I know, and I'm really sorry. I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you – and Tony, Abby, who I'm sure is royally pissed at me, and even Agent David."

Refusing to acknowledge Stan's apology, Gibbs reached the door and was about to call for the guard but stopped and turned to ask one parting question.

"Why did you make up all that bullshit about being Willmont's sex slave?"

Stan groaned but fessed up with a nonchalant shrug. "Truth? Sympathy. The part about Zacek and Walters beating the shit out of me was true, and so was Zacek forcing his cock down my throat. Walters actually just stood there and didn't do anything. I think he was disgusted by the whole thing. Willmont did rape me just like I said – hell, more than once. The rest of it – I guess it really doesn't matter anymore. Believe what you want."

Gibbs banged on the door and called for the guard. Looking back at Stan sitting slumped in his chair, he scrubbed a hand down his face.

"I'll talk to Fornell and Vance, but I'm not making any promises."


Gibbs purposefully strode from the elevator to the stairs, shouldering his way through a pack of slow-moving agents and shouting to his team to follow him. He had called Vance from the jail adjacent to the courthouse to request a meeting to brief him on his visit to Stan. The team dutifully followed, and within minutes the four of them were standing at attention in front of their esteemed Director's desk.

The scene was eerily reminiscent of the day he made the terrible but necessary mistake of breaking up the team, so Vance directed the group to sit around the long conference table. He had a nagging feeling that this meeting was not going to be a pleasant one. Thankfully, the ever-efficient Cynthia had made sure to set out plenty of fresh coffee and bottles of water.

Sitting back and chewing on an ever-present toothpick, Vance yielded the floor. "Okay Gibbs, you called this little meeting, so what's on your mind?"

When the meeting wrapped up forty minutes later, Tony was the first to jump up from his seat and leave. Vance, McGee, and Ziva traded questioning looks then turned to Gibbs, who simply stared at the shiny metal door Tony had thrown open on his way out.

"Keep me posted, Gibbs," Vance called out as Gibbs bolted for the door, followed by Ziva and McGee.

When they arrived in the bullpen a few minutes later, Tony was nowhere to be seen. His computer and desk lamp were switched off, and his backpack, badge, and gun were gone. Gibbs flipped open his phone and called the guard house at the main gate and wasn't terribly surprised when Ed told him that Tony had just peeled out of the parking lot leaving a cloud of tire smoke in his wake.