Warnings: Slight spoilers for "Judgment Day"

A/N: Happy Sunday!

E- Wedding isn't happening for a few chapters.


Tony leaned over a laptop he'd borrowed from the FBI team that had come out to assist them, and looked at the files that McGee had emailed him. The operation that Decker had worked on with Gibbs and Jenny was an assassination of three Russian operatives in Paris. Decker and Gibbs had taken out their Russian targets, but apparently Jenny did not. Was that target seeking revenge on the NCIS agents for their fallen colleagues?

He couldn't be sure at this point, but Gibbs seemed to know more than he was letting on, which was probably the whole reason that Gibbs had taken off without Tony or Fornell. Since Gibbs had left they'd discovered tracks from another car near the diner, probably Jenny's rental car... there was another shooter they were looking for. FBI was taking the bodies back to L.A, Tony was running facial recognition on all of them, even sent the photographs to McGee to see if he could clean them up for better results. But they still did not have a lot of answers.

"Anything?" Fornell asked, coming to stand next to him.

"Botched assassination," Tony said, glancing at the other FBI agent. "I'm going to need to really sit down and read this file. Lots blacked out."

"Heard from Gibbs?"

"No. Have you?"

"Not a word. Not that I anticipated getting one."

Tony shook his head. "I'm starting to get worried. If this was a hit on Jenny... Decker's already dead... Gibbs is the next target."

Fornell looked in the direction that Gibbs had driven off in. "He figured it out and high tailed it out of here so you wouldn't be caught in the crosshairs."

"Why do you assume that he left to protect me?"

"I'm not the one getting married in two months. Not sure if he ever really liked me either."

Tony didn't feel like arguing that Fornell was the only FBI agent that Gibbs had been able to work alongside—until Tony had left NCIS for the FBI. There were just more pressing matters on their hands at the moment. Like checking in with your fiancée that you have not talked to since arriving in Los Angles. Pulling out his cell phone he hit the speed dial for Leah. "Listen I'd love to debate why Gibbs ran off... but I have to check in... with the future wife."

Fornell chuckled. It was clear that Leah had Tony wrapped around her little finger, and it appeared that Tony was fine with that. "Probably best if you start off on the right foot—so you don't end up like Gibbs and I, sharing an ex-wife," he said, as he walked away to join the other agents.

He watched him walk away and patiently waited for Leah to answer. Tony hadn't bother to check the time... she might be in class or out for a jog... finally he heard the tale-tell click that someone was answering the phone.

"Hi honey, Copper and I were starting to get worried about you," Leah said, happily when she picked up.

"I'm fine. Just... hot... word to the wise do not wear jeans to the Mojave Desert," Tony told her, smiling.

"Mojave Desert? Why are you all the way out there?" Leah questioned.

"Following leads," Tony lied to her. She didn't need the added stress of Jenny's death and a possible hit out on Gibbs and anyone associated with him. "I'm probably going to be here a few more days."

Leah sounded disappointed. "I miss you."

Tony sighed and observed the bodies of the shooters and Jenny as they were taken out of the diner in body bags and loaded into a van. "I miss you too, bella, you have no idea how much I miss you." He looked up to see one of the agents approaching him. "Sweetheart, I have to go. I love you." He hung before she could reply and took a deep breath as the agent came closer. "What's wrong?"

The agent glanced over his shoulder for a second before speaking. "A red Ford Mustang was found abandoned at that gas station fifteen miles up the road. The clerk said that a man matching Gibbs' description pulled up, pretended to be filling the tank, when another car pulled up. A man got out, they chatted, and Gibbs left with him. Keys in the ignition and everything."

His gut tingled. "What did the other man look like?"

"Gruff, tall... figured he was more than a pack a day smoker..."

"Damn it, Gibbs."

"Is something wrong sir?" the agent questioned, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Tony shook his head and sent him on his way. Pulling out his cell phone he dialed McGee. "Probie. I need you to track Mike Franks for me. NOW."


Mike Franks was not at all surprised when the red Ford Mustang blocked his exit from his motel in Los Angles. He watched as DiNozzo got out of the car. "Heard you were with the FBI now, DiNozzo," the former agent said in his gruff voice. "Gibbs is proud of ya, kid. How did you find me?"

DiNozzo didn't look to be in the mood for talking. His green eyes were angry. "McGee. He has access to all the aliases you travel under, he found that one of them made a little trip up to Los Angles right around the time we tracked Jenny here. Fess up, Mike. You were with Jenny at the diner. I bet it was your gun that finished the other shooters off, the ones that had managed to kill Jenny. Gibbs figured it out. Did he tell you to get the hell out of here too?"

"Jenny died protecting him, Tony," Mike said, sadly. "She was dying from that tumor. She knew she had wronged him—wronged you."

"If she had wanted to make it up to me, she shouldn't have fled and gone to jail," DiNozzo snapped.

"Wouldn't have made it until then I'm afraid."

"Where's Gibbs?"

"Finishing what Jenny started," Mike pointed out. He leaned against his rental car. "Promised him I wouldn't tell you where he was going."

Tony clenched his fists at his sides. "He needs back-up, Franks!"

Mike reached into his pocket to pull out his cigarettes and lighter. He lit one up and puffed on it for a second or two before speaking again. "Doesn't want you to get hurt, Tony, told me that you were finally settling down... had a chance to make something more of your life besides a federal agent."

"Bull! He's going on one of his personal crusades! Again!" Tony snapped. "Where did he go?"

"He headed back to D.C," Mike said, frowning. "That's where Svetlana will be waiting for him."

Tony reached back into his memory of the operation in Paris. "She was Jenny's target, the one that Jenny couldn't kill."

Mike nodded. "Decker and Gibbs took their targets down, but Jenny had issues with killing, with how to live with what she had done."

"She got over that real fast," Tony snapped.

"Benoit," Mike stated. "She's lucky no one came after her for that."

No, they came after me instead, Tony thought, thinking about Jeanne spending time in jail for attempting to kill him. "Listen, I'd love to stay and chat... but I need to get back to Washington before that Russian kills Gibbs."

Mike clicked his tongue. "Gibbs has hours and hours on you, DiNozzo. You think you'll make it back to D.C in time?"

His fingers twitched, a heated glare came into his eyes and Mike noted how dangerous DiNozzo looked at the moment. "So what if I don't? Isn't that better than sitting around here, in L.A, waiting for something to happen?" The younger man squared his shoulders. "At least I have the decency to not let my former partner take a bullet. Never figured you for a coward, Mike."

"Whoa, hold up there, cowboy," Mike snarled. "Do you think I like the idea of Jethro doing this all on his own? Hell no! But I know better than to get involved!"

"Yeah, that's why you helped Jenny, huh," Tony snapped. "I should arrest you for aiding and abetting a fugitive."

"Didn't know she was on the run from the law. I live on a beach in Mexico!"

"Get out of here, Franks. Better believe if Gibbs dies... I'll becoming down to your little slice of paradise for you."

Mike watched as DiNozzo jumped back into the Mustang and sped off, rather recklessly, and he thought, don't worry, you'll never have to deal with me again.


Roaring thunder shook the apartment and woke Leah up from a nap on the sofa. Quickly she sprinted across the living room and managed to shut the window before the angry skies opened up and rain began to pour down.

Leah turned, looking for Copper. The dog had not left her side—well when she was home anyways—since Tony had gone to Los Angles. She teased the pup that he was really taking Tony's order to take care of her a little too far. But, right now the dog was laying in front of the door, head raised, ears back slightly, listening to the sounds of the storm and probably deciding if it was a threat to his human.

She watched then as the dog's ears pressed flat against his head and he growled, turning about in his spot getting ready to nip at the door. Leah had never seen this kind of reaction out of him and she felt a bit of danger in the air as someone pounded on the door.

Copper barked and paced. Leah wasn't sure she wanted to open the door as she approached it, grabbing a hold of Copper's collar. The dog was a bundle of energy though and she could tell that if he went after who ever was on the other side of the door, she was not going to be able to stop him. Gently she unlatched the locks, opening the door only slightly.

Greg Henderson was looking at her, perplexed. "Leah?"

Leah sighed. "Sorry. Copper its just Greg! You know him!" she exclaimed as she opened the door all the way to reveal Ziva standing there. "Officer David?"

"I see he still does not like me," Ziva replied.

"He's been jumpy since Tony left," Leah said with a shrug. She didn't need to tell Ziva that dogs could sense things about people that people could not. "What's going on?"

"Leah, when was the last time you spoke to Tony?" Greg asked.

"Last night, why?"

"FBI has lost contact with him. Tobias said he—."

Leah gripped the dog's collar and interrupted, "What do you mean the FBI has lost contact with him?"

Greg stepped back slightly, concerned her agitated state would make Copper even more jumpy. "He boarded a flight back to D.C last night, the red eye, but no one has been able to get in touch with him and his car is gone from the Dulles parking garage."

Ziva ran her tongue over her lips. "We think that he is going to find Gibbs. NCIS hasn't had much contact with him in three days."

"If he comes home, Leah," Greg said, softly, "Will you call me?"

"Yes... of course," Leah whispered. She watched as Greg and Ziva turned away. "You'll... you'll call me if you hear from him?"

Greg sighed and nodded his head, but as the two law enforcement officials walked away, and Leah went back inside the apartment—all three knew that Tony wasn't going to contact them until whatever it was he was doing was finished.


Gibbs picked the lock in Jenny's house and stepped inside. He knew the alarm code by heart and punched it in. It was dark in the house, quiet. Most of Jenny's things had been sold to pay for her treatments and the downstairs den was now—or was—her room as stairs had become difficult for the woman to climb.

He flipped a light in the hallway on and made his way down to the study. There were many nights he had spent with her in that study, arguing, drinking—making up from their fights with sex. It was empty now except for a few personal items and Jenny's supply of Scotch. With a heavy sigh he lowered his body to the desk chair and turned the light on over the desk.

One single piece of paper was on the desk, Dear Jethro clearly written but nothing else. He wondered what she was going to say to him...

It didn't matter anymore. Jenny was dead. And he needed to finish this before anyone innocent got hurt. Gibbs had made sure that Tony and Tobias were not caught in the crosshairs by leaving the pair in the desert. He figured that Tony and Tobias had made their way back to D.C by now, but if he had played his cards right they had not figured it out that it had been Mike with Jenny when she died...

He heard the front door open, footsteps in the hall and Gibbs grinned, calling out, "Hello, Svetlana. Nice of you to drop by."