Tony hadn't forgotten his chat with Ziva on Christmas Day about getting in touch with his father.

But even by the time they returned to work after vacation was over, he still hadn't called. Not yet.

Procrastination really was his own worst enemy.

One thing was growing steadily clearer by the end of the first half-hour on their first day back at NCIS after the holidays. No sign of their intrepid leader was to be seen. It was unsettling.

Ziva cast a look at her boss' desk. It was yet empty.

"How odd…"

McGee seemed to be reading her mind. "You know, I'm not even sure if I saw Gibbs' truck in the parking lot."

"Same." Ziva nodded. "I did see the director's car and they do live together now, but something is just…"

"Off…" McGee finished.

"Correct."

McGee looked over at Tony. "What about you?"

Tony looked up distractedly. "Hmm? What's happening?"

The younger man set aside his papers altogether and fixed his partner with a suspicious expression. "Okay. What's up with you?"

Tony leaned back in his chair. "I've just been thinking, pr—"

But his words were cut off when his desk phone began to ring.

"How the hell…?" Tony said softly when he registered the name on the caller ID.

"Answer him!" Ziva and McGee said together.

Tony did. "Boss!"

"Dead body this morning, DiNozzo." greeted Gibbs.

"Yep. Another day, another dollar. Where are we going this time?"

"Adams House Hotel. Third floor."

Tony blanched, but didn't immediately say anything. His companions both noticed.

Gibbs, too. "Did I stutter?!"

Tony jumped. "No, boss. Dead body at The Adams House."

Around him, Ziva and McGee immediately sprang into action with collecting their field gear.

Gibbs went on. "Call the morgue. Grab your gear."

"Yes, boss." Tony nodded even though Gibbs couldn't see him. "We'll see you soon."

"Alright." Gibbs hung up.

Tony followed suit and went through the motions for getting his own field gear. A long day was already ahead.

Because dollars to donuts… They would bump into him.

For once, D.C. traffic patterns were on their side. Good time was made.

But McGee's concern for Tony had only increased. Why? Because he had let him drive.

This act, in and of itself, was extremely unusual. Tony always took any chance to remind him of his title as the 'Senior Field Agent.' (Or even as the alpha) So something had to be bothering him. Right?

And Ziva obviously knew. But it was impossible to get information out of her these days when it came to Anthony DiNozzo Junior. So McGee wouldn't even try.

But something was absolutely up.

Gibbs pounced the moment his team was within his view range. "Do all of you have lead in your boots? Where have you all been?"

McGee checked his watch. "There weren't any delays on the Beltway today, boss. We actually made good time."

"Our dead sailor would probably beg to differ. Come on."

Tony, Ziva, and McGee followed Gibbs into the hotel room.

It had all the trimmings one would expect. A bed. A closet. A bathroom. One window that offered them a view of the street below. Somewhat nice paintings on the walls. Attractive bedside decor. Pleasant lighting. Even a handsome business desk by the window.

All of it was on point for the vibe of The Adams House Hotel.

What wasn't in the usual vibe was the dead body on the bed.

Ziva immediately took steps to compartmentalize what she was looking at. But then she set about to sketch the scene. McGee photographed it. Both of them actively listened while Gibbs filled Tony in.

"John Doe," he said. "Early to mid twenties. Cause of death appears to so far blunt force trauma to the head. We know until he's been to the morgue."

Tony gave a cursory examination of the man in the bed. He was indeed quite young. And… the gash on his head was inescapable. Someone had taken something heavy to the spot. No coming back from an encounter like that. Unless they were superhuman.

He continued surveying the immediate area surrounding the bed. Not far from where they stood, he spotted a sailor's uniform and hat. Even the man's own skivvies.

"Well," Tony said to Gibbs. "Now it's clear why NCIS was called in. I wonder i—"

He had intended to ask about the likes of any form of identification, but from across the space, McGee cut him off before he could get anything out.

"Boss!" McGee held aloft an evidence bag with an item inside. "Found his wallet!"

Gibbs turned to him. "And…?"

McGee investigated the ID. "We've got ourselves one Owen Peters, from Silver Spring. He was twenty-five."

"Anything about a USMC connection?"

"Apart from the uniform, no. There's only a D.C. identification card. Nothing else. He was cleaned out. Cash, cards, everything. I won't be able to investigate that angle until we get back to HQ. Unless we bump into any useful witnesses first."

Gibbs nodded. "Alright. Keep looking."

McGee wanted to say that he and Ziva had already scoured the room. But… He wisely elected against it when he could see that Gibbs already staring him down.

So he just went back to work.

Gibbs told Tony, "Any idea on when our friends from the morgue will arrive?"

But almost at once—

"Here we are!"

Ducky and Palmer had finally made it to the hotel.

"Excuse us, everyone." Ducky said to the group at large as they entered the room. "Somebody must learn about the meaning of the word 'shortcut.' And it isn't me."

All eyes fell to Palmer.

He rolled his eyes theatrically. "One day I'll show all of you that I really do know the district."

Ziva said dryly, "Perhaps in a decade or so?"

Tony looked back at Gibbs. "Hey—dare we ask why you were already in the neighborhood?"

Gibbs rewarded him with an absolute death stare.

"Forget it." And Tony quickly left to help McGee when he called out.

Ziva continued to examine the writing desk for any more clues. Leave no stone unturned. Even Mossad training had instilled this critical value.

Drawer by drawer, there was nothing.

And then…

"What is this?" her words were to no one but herself.

In the very last drawer she had found a piece of small white rectangular card-stock, with vital information printed on it in a bold typeface. This was a person's business card.

Ziva quickly put it into an evidence bag and catalogued the information.

But then her heart leapt into her throat as she took in just whose information was on the card. Why did her life have to be so complicated?

Ziva excused herself out to the hallway so could regather her bearings. And calm the baby. Rivka Faith was kicking up a brutal storm. It wasn't fun.

Gibbs waited for a beat before following her out.

"You okay, David?" he asked her when he found her some feet away from the door. "Looks like you've seen a ghost."

"Incorrect." Ziva responded. "But… I have been given quite a turn."

"How is that?"

Ziva handed Gibbs the bag to hold. "Why is this my life?"

Gibbs examined the card. "Oh, boy…"

"My exact thoughts."

Before either of them could say anything further, they noticed a man hurrying towards them from the other ends of the hallway. Security Chief Resnik. They had already met him earlier.

"Is there something we can help you with?" Gibbs asked when he drew level.

"Yes." Resnik said. "There is an elderly gentleman downstairs who is insisting on talking to NCIS. His tone read as urgent."

Ziva looked at him curiously. "Just what did this man say?"

"Other than that he made the connections himself after spotting your official team vehicle outside, nothing. Just an extra please."

Gibbs gave Ziva a gentle nudge. "Go. This guy could be useful."

Ziva bit back a hollow laugh. But all the same, she gave Gibbs a nod of understanding before speaking with Resnik once more.

"I am all yours now." she told him. "Please show me where this man is."

Resnik lead Ziva to a hallway on the hotel's main floor. It was full of nothing but conference rooms. They stopped in front of one door in particular.

"He's through here now." Resnik then indicated from where they'd just traveled. "Please ask for me at the front desk if you need anything."

Ziva said graciously, "Thank you, sir."

Resnik bobbed his head as he took his leave.

Ziva quickly prepared herself to talk with whomever it was on the other side of the door. Perhaps having a witness this early on would be a good sign.

Only one way to find out.

She let herself into the room.

Nothing was too remarkable about it. But one man sat at the conference table. Staring into space. He seemed a million miles away.

Ziva cleared her throat. "Hello, sir. I am—"

"Ziva? You must be Ziva!" the man perked up and rose from the table, walking around to it to greet her. "Hello!"

Ziva shook his hand, but felt dazed. Hardly anyone outside of the NCIS word recognized her. Even less people outside of Jenny Shepard's world did. What was happening?

But… The main reason Ziva felt dazed was because she had only just seen his name upstairs. What were the odds?

"I do not believe that we have met."

Ziva let go of the man's hand. Her head began to swim with dozens of questions. But her next inquiry was her own way of pinching herself. The last thing she wanted was for this all just to be in her head.

It was a miracle she even got her thought out. "What is your name, please?"

"Anthony!" he chirped merrily. "Anthony DiNozzo Senior!"