"A field agent's crime scene sketches should portray both the scale of the crime scene, as well as relative distances and positioning of evidence," the toupeed, bespectacled little man droned. "Any questions? No? Next we will discuss collecting and cataloguing physical evidence…"

Kate's cell phone vibrated urgently against her hip and she started slightly; the older agent's soporific voice had put her in that half-doze state familiar to all lecture recipients. Glancing around surreptitiously to see if anyone was paying attention to her, she pulled it out discreetly and checked the caller ID. The small screen displayed a number she had become quite familiar with over the past few weeks. Whatever Mr. Tompkins was calling about this early in the morning had to be important. Looking up again briefly, she slipped out the back with only Gibbs giving her a slight frown.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Kate? It's Randy Tompkins," his warm voice floated over the line. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No," she reassured him, "just a really boring seminar. The lecturer is a cross between Ben Stein and Donald Trump."

He chuckled. "Good. I just called to say that all the paperwork has gone through and you are cleared to take Grace home. When would you like to pick her up?"

"Oh," Kate stammered, caught off-guard. "Um, is Saturday okay?"

"Saturday would be wonderful. I'll let her know, and her uncle. Anything you need?"

"Not right now, thanks. See you Saturday, I guess."

"Indeed. Goodbye, Kate."

She flipped her phone closed, breathing deeply. In the three weeks since Mr. Tompkins had first called her about Grace, she had prepared her home as best she could for a teen. She knew, though, that the reality had not quite sunk in yet. The transition from free-range bachelorette to single mom would not be hers until Grace actually moved in, if then. It was an attitude, she reflected. Would she ever be able to be a mother to this girl?

People were beginning to trickle out of the room, the seminar apparently over. Gibbs spotted her and raised an eyebrow.

"What was that about?" he asked quietly. The volume didn't disguise the faint accusation in his voice.

"Nothing," she said quickly. "Important call." She wasn't about to tell him it had been about Grace. He had been quite adamant when he told her that her new position in life would not interfere with her work.

His eyebrow quivered slightly, as if it couldn't make up its mind about whether or not it should appear incredulous. Giving her one last squint, he apparently decided it wasn't important right now and turned to go back to work.

By the time Saturday rolled around, Kate was more nervous than a shell-shocked cat. She rushed around the house, straightening and dusting, waiting for the appropriate time to leave. When she finally got on the road, she drove almost as erratically as Gibbs and incurred almost as many angry honks. Gathering her wits enough to slow as she approached her destination, she checked house numbers with an increasing apprehension. What had she really gotten herself into?

She sighed audibly in relief as she recognized Mr. Tompkins' car in the driveway. At least this part she wouldn't have to do alone. Parking the car, she hesitated before opening the door. Slowly she walked up the path to the front door and, very slowly, knocked.

The door swung open to reveal a tall, well-built man in his mid-forties. Kate found herself reminded strongly of Gibbs as his piercing eyes (albeit brown) examined her closely in the brief moment before letting her in.

"Ah, Kate!" Mr. Tompkins called when she entered what she assumed had been the living room. "Welcome. We were just finishing up the last of the boxes."

Kate saw him kneeling on the floor next to a large box, Grace helping him tape it shut. There were two other similar boxes in the room, which was otherwise empty. Kate suddenly had a disturbing thought.

"Um, who's selling the house?" she asked worriedly, hoping desperately that the answer would not be her.

"That would be me," the man said from behind her, a touch of amused sarcasm in his voice.

"Grace," Mr. Tompkins grunted as he struggled with a piece of tape. "Would you like to introduce Kate to your uncle?"

"Oh, right," she responded. "Uncle Jack, Kate Todd. Kate Todd, Uncle Jack. He's – was – my dad's brother."

Kate nodded politely at "Uncle Jack". He returned it, still scrutinizing her. From what little Kate had seen of him, he was extraordinarily protective of his young niece and determined to make sure she would be going home with someone reliable. Just what I need, she sighed inwardly. Another Gibbs on my case.

An awkward silence was settling over the room. Kate wasn't sure what to do or say but she had to break the stillness.

"Um, can I carry anything to the car?" she asked.

"That box there," Grace directed, not looking up. Kate grabbed it, grateful for anything to do, but she had underestimated the weight.

She was still grappling with the box when it unexpectedly lost a good bit of poundage. Surprised, she looked around and noticed Uncle Jack on the other side, lifting with her. Together they maneuvered the heavy container into the trunk of her car.

"Thanks," she said appreciatively, breathing heavily.

"You're welcome," he grunted.

"You know," she began hesitantly, "I really do want what's best for Grace."

He gazed at her again, a look she was so familiar with from a different silver-haired man, and nodded slightly. "I know. You think I'd be letting you take her if I thought you didn't?"

After getting all the boxes in the car, three of them stood in the living room and stared at the floor while Mr. Tompkins rattled off a few final reminders.

"Well," he finished, "is everyone ready?"

Grace, tears in her eyes but determined not to cry, nodded. She hugged her uncle fiercely and he kissed the top of her head lightly. Kate stood with Mr. Tompkins, looking on as uncle and niece said their goodbyes.

"Kate?" Mr. Tompkins asked quietly.

She nodded, tears in her own eyes. It was time, she realized, to face the reality. She was the mother of a fourteen-year-old girl who had just faced an enormous trauma. No one said this was going to be easy, she reminded herself.

"Everyone ready?" Mr. Tompkins repeated.

No, Kate thought desperately. But she said,

"Yes."

Grace nodded again, hugging her uncle one last time, and they all headed out the door. As she and Grace got in the car, Kate was assailed by a sudden onslaught of maternal worry.

"Seatbelt," she ordered automatically. Grace gave her a look as she drew the strap across her body. Kate cringed inwardly. This was not starting well.

"So," she tried, forcing a cheerful tone, "what do you like to do?"

"I don't like to talk in the car," the girl muttered stonily.

Nosiree, Kate thought. No one said this was going to be easy.