The storm clouds had grown darker than I thought possible, but seemed to be subsiding in one direction as sunshine warmly touched me from the south, where I thought to be heading to. However, the cold waters still raged around me, threatening to drown me in their embrace just as the boat passed me. The winds pushed me around, wanting to sink me under the whirlpool of disaster surrounding me as well. What seemed like three ships sailed past me, waving goodbye, its children inside crying out for righteousness.

In the meantime, Austin was screaming out of his newly broken window, shaking a fist and his gun at me. Above him on deck (as if ordered to in an instant), men were aimlessly shooting into the water, missing me as I ducked in and out of the water and swam out of the way quickly, before the boats passing by could pull me down. However, my arms were rapidly becoming sore from the effort, especially after using them to break and then jump out of a window. I had to find some dry land and decide where to go from there. I had no paperwork, no identification or anything that would get me anywhere, but I could still claim sanctuary as soon as I explained to the authorities who I was and where I needed to go.

Great going, Lyddy, just great! You pulled off a pretty stupid stunt, worthy of a Gibbs smack, even if it was the only way to get out alive. You're facing death. You could have taken the shot to the head from Austin and make it quicker. You could have died there instead of the waters of the Gulf. No, you HAD to jump into the ocean and drown, didn't you?!

Either way, the odds were against me. Land seemed so many miles away, albeit in sight at least. The storm was heading to the north towards the US coast, where Felix, Austin and those children with the Black Crusade were heading. Southward, there was some better weather and perhaps some beaches to wash up on, but I was not sure if I could make it with the wind and waves and a sore body and mind.

Just as the last ship sailed past and was some distance away from me (as well as those bullets), I thought. I don't have a choice. I have to swim, no matter what. If I grab a hand and head back to Austin, my death is sealed. If I swim, I stand the chance of drowning, either by the elements or by my own body giving out. But I stand the better chance of leaving and getting back to Gibbs if I swam to shore.

Slapping myself in the back of head just for Gibbs as I treaded water, I allowed my legs to float to the top and pushed off, starting my long swim to shore. My face felt hotter than hell and the dim sun ahead felt like it was burning a hole in my head, but I had to push on. Many people out there depended on me, and it wasn't just those children out in the boats.

~00~

Luckily for me, even without papers, I landed right back in Haiti, on the shores of Corail without knowing where I was or what I was doing, I was that tired from pushing myself to safety. I didn't even know, through the haze of my mind, that the authorities across the country were apparently looking for me. My picture was everywhere in Haiti, being part of NCIS and all, and knowing that Assistant Director General Roy was the one that had me kidnapped did not help matters. Not to mention, the National Police were now on the lookout for the Black Crusade since NCIS was around, being briefed on the organization and posting posters everywhere, demanding information despite the leaks in their own institute.

However, when one officer from the National Police, on alert on the borders, noticed me on the beach, struggling to breathe as the waves pushed me onto the sand, he called a few channels, from what I could tell. Afterward, pushing civilians and tourists aside, he came over to me, staring up at a sun that kept darkening before my eyes. I felt myself being pulled up the sandy dunes as hair met dry sea life and towels, but could not tell who my savior was. I was relieved, to say the least, that I was at last away from Henry Austin and his goons.

"If you are who I think you are, then you're in the right hands," the man above me said slowly in English as he stopped at a spot away from the beach spectators. "Can you tell me who you are? How did you get here?"

I could barely get my mouth to work, but when I did, all I could say to him was, "Lydia Sullivan, out to kill those in the Black Crusade."

~00~

For three days, I slept at the hospital at Corail, special guards from the National Police posted at my door and orders from the doctors not to be disturbed unless it was an emergency. Because I was suffering from severe heat exhaustion, I was given water whenever possible (and ordered to drink down several glasses slowly) and a lightly air conditioned room, complete with shade and covered windows. Not to mention, I had annoying nurses who tended to me day and night and spoke a language I could not understand. I tried the best I could to emulate them and somehow communicate, but they laughed and continued to coo over me.

Nobody visited me during my stay but the nurses and doctors, so I had no contact with the outside world save for knowing that Gibbs would need me as soon as possible and he knew that I was safe. I had lost my cell phone and my paperwork in the limo when I was with Roy, but it was quickly retrieved and given back to me by my third day at the hospital, when the National Police found it. The official paperwork seemed like it was burnt at the ends and saved from harm, but the cell phone showed me several missed calls and text messages.

Some of the calls were from Gibbs or Tony without a voicemail (both of whom gave me their numbers earlier just in case something happened), but the one that caught my attention was a number that I had not seen since Mom's funeral. The text messages were from the same number, asking me to call back as soon as possible and at which numbers, in case I missed him at one spot.

It was my older brother Jay. He had somehow found a way to get through to me from Iraq.

Oh, Jay, did you just hear? Did you just hear that Mara is murdered and dead and Dad is at the VA clinic, probably now declared insane?

I had a few hours before I was released to Gibbs and his team, but this phone call could not wait, even if it added to my bill to call internationally. Sitting at the edge of my bed, with my hands shaking wildly, I dialed the first number, Jay's cell phone, which he took overseas with him. I waited patiently, letting it ring a few times before it went to voicemail. I tried again. This time, it picked up, but I was hearing a voice that I didn't recognize.

"Hullo? This is Lance Corporal Uriah Heep reporting from the sandbox of hell known as Iraq. May I ask who is calling Corporal Jay Sullivan's number?"

Whoever it was on the other line is about to be mentally slapped if I don't get Jay.

"Hi," I replied calmly enough, trying not to get my temper flaring. "This is Special Agent Lydia Sullivan, NCIS. I'm trying to reach my brother. Seen him around?"

"Oh, my lady in black, now a special agent and calling? Oh, my darling lady, your brother talks about you nonstop and –"

"Hell's bells, Michael, give me the damned phone!" I heard Jay yell over some sudden wind. "If that's my kid sister, you better hand that over to me or I'll be spewing out more Charles Dickens than David Bryon for the next twenty-four hours and making sure you're annoyed as hell. Got me?"

"Yes, Sir," Michael replied military-like, immediately handing the phone over to Jay.

"Little sister, I don't have a lot of time," Jay quickly explained as he came on, without a greeting or anything similar. "There's a sandstorm coming here and I need to wrap up and take cover soon. It looks like it'll be pretty bad."

"Do you get them a lot?" I asked, worried.

"About three a month, on average," Jay confirmed lightly. "You picked a pretty bad time to call me and I'm not mentioning that I'm also several hours ahead of you. I can't even tell what time it is now, but I'm sure it's some time before dawn."

"Well, you picked bad times to call too Jay. What's going on?" My heart clenched tightly and then released, thinking that he knew about Mara finally.

"I'm coming home on leave soon." Jay's voice took a turn downhill, proving my deepest fears. "I don't have a clue when, just that I am. I heard about Mara and –"

A strong wind suddenly blew harshly, cutting us off for some minutes. I thought for a second there that I had lost Jay.

"Jay?! Jay, are you there?!" I yelled frantically, causing some of the nurses outside to look in with worried glances. I waved them away, motioning that I was fine and on the phone, which got them to leave me alone without their cooing, luckily for me.

"I'm still here, Lydia." Jay's voice sounded distant and sad, coming in a minute later. "It's coming pretty soon. I've got no more than ten minutes before we get blown over and buried in sand."

"How long do you have?" I then asked, trying to get answers from the limited time we've had. "I mean, how long are you staying home?"

"I don't know, Lydia. I don't know this time around. After basic training, they cut me some slack before my final training and sending me to this God forsaken sandbox I'd rather forget existed. This is Mara we're talking about though, not Mom. They could give me a week, maybe two, if I'm lucky. Or I'll have a couple of days, be there for the funeral and leave for Iraq again."

"You talk about this as if it was business." I was bitter and Jay knew it in my voice. "This is Mara, a human being we knew, loved and grew up with. She isn't some inanimate object that we can just toss away. She's our sister, a mother who was taken away from her son. And Sammy –"

"Lydia, listen to me." Jay sounded serious for once, the real for his interruption. "Mara wouldn't have wanted us to grieve, even if we feel that way. She lived her life, she did what she had to do and she died in a brutal way, from the rumors I've heard. There's nothing we can do about it other than wait for the proper authorities to find her murderer, who's bound to stand trial, and be done with it. We have to move on."

"You don't understand me –"

"Yes, I do understand you and this situation more than you think. I discover bodies every other hour, sometimes even whole families. I have to shoot and kill anyone who threatens the base, even little kids with bombs on their backs. I have to wipe my boots off of human flesh and blood every night and call it a good day's work. Lydia, war is dirty work and so is this new job you're seeking, as I've been hearing. You look for justice in a place where there is no reform, no sanctity for the helpless and you're trying to change it. We're alike, kid sister. We're alike in more ways than one."

I wanted to cry for everything, hearing Jay talk that way, but with the wind blowing so hard on his side, I had to let him go and stay tough, without my tears. He had a job to do and so did I. After all, we are a Marine family and we're stronger than we appear to be.

"I'll call you when I reach the States," Jay faithfully promised me, hearing no response out of my mouth. "I'll let you know how long I'll be there and when I'll leave for Iraq. Does that sound good to you?"

"Yeah," I automatically replied. "That sounds about right to me."

"I love ya, kid sister," Jay then yelled when the wind picked up stronger again. "Remember the words I said to you at Mom's funeral? Something she always said when she was down?"

"With you, I will grieve," I recalled nostalgically. "She always said that she would mourn with us, through the best and worst."

I could almost see Jay's smile, even though we were worlds apart, hours away. However, before he could say anything else to me, the phone line went dead, the sound of wind still blowing in my ears, whispering a very sad song.

I then sat back down on my bed, locking my phone together and turning it off. I pulled my knees to my chin as the phone wedged itself in-between my fingers, my arms wrapped around my legs. After that phone call, I didn't know what to think, what to say even. All I discerned was that Jay was right. We both had jobs to do. We both were supposed to bring justice to a system that found itself corrupt and correct it, even if one was considered wrong in many ways. And there wasn't any time for tears and grief, but only determination and force.

However, with the Black Crusade in mind (and hopefully not in Jay's, granted that he did not know), I found my job harder than his in more ways. While Jay was in this so-called "Operation Iraqi Freedom" mission, I was still finding out who I was supposed to trust and who might or might not be guilty in this international case involving dead Marines, abused children and dishonorable men and women alike. He had an idea on who was responsible and innocent because it was easily in front of him while I could not see beyond the evidence in front of me.

Me? Ha! I was following my gut mostly, for sure, but the theory that someone was innocent until proven guilty seemed too distant to me. And I, for one, was still connecting the dots to a puzzle that remained just as mysterious as the day it was discovered, on that faraway day when Dad and I visited Colonel Henderson in his apartment.

Uriah Heep is the name of the insincere and dishonest (yet humble) "Yes Man" character from Charles Dickens' series book David Copperfield. It's also the name of an English rock band, formed in 1969, of which David Bryon was the lead vocalist from 1969 to 1976. Although still functioning today, the band Uriah Heep was said to be along the same line as Led Zeppelin.

The mention of the lady in black is in reference to the Uriah Heep song, "Lady in Black". Credited to Ken Hensley (keyboardist and guitarist of the band from 1969 to 1980), it talks about a man at war meeting a goddess-like entity, who consoles him and draws him into the light. Hensley himself said that it was a philosophical parable almost, which cautions that evil cannot be overcome by more evil.