What Do You Got?

by HidingLight

What do you got? As the group struggles to navigate the murky waters of career vs relationships, the Gibbs' teams realize that what they really have is something worth holding on to for dear life. A sequel to Out of the Basement and As It Seems. Tony/Gibbs Abby/McGee Dorneget/Elly (OC) Ziva/Dion (OC) SLASH!

3. Chapter 3

Okay, so I feel like I'm getting very brave here. Things aren't going to go according to cannon, but I hope you like it! And I had to make a change towards the end of the previous chapter, so if you didn't see that, you may want to check on it.

What Do You Got: Chapter Three

Tony was exhausted as they dragged their luggage through the airport at 0500 the next morning. He knew the early flight was sensible since they had a long journey ahead of them, but their honeymoon kickoff the night before had them both wiped out. Even as they started in on round three Tony knew it wasn't a good idea, but he couldn't resist Jethro at his most delicious. It was an hour of sleep he didn't regret missing, but at the same time was currently wishing he had.

Jethro was fairing a little better, but not much. He'd had multiple cups of coffee before leaving the house, and as soon as they got through security and to their gates he was going in search of another one. He knew they could sleep once they got on the plane, but they'd arrived early because they knew what the check in process would look like that early in the morning. Thankfully their clearances had them TSA prescreened, and they were able to roll right on through with the small carry on Tony had packed with necessities for their long flight.

Jethro had told Tony that he wouldn't need much but a good book, but Tony had insisted on packing a change of clothes for each of them in case their luggage was lost, as well as some things to keep them occupied. There were crosswords, Sudoku, their tablets, spare charger packs, some candy, a couple of breakfast bars, and two toothbrushes with a travel size toothpaste. He wasn't leaving anything to chance. It also had their backup documents in case something happened and they lost their passports.

An hour later they were boarded and sitting in their first class seats, an upgrade that Jethro had gotten just to spoil Tony. They had blankets and pillows, and Tony was sipping a complementary mimosa while Jethro finished a cup of coffee. The rest of the passengers were shuffling past them as they took their seats, and soon the attendant came by to take their empty cups before takeoff.

The two men looked at each other, a smile on their lips meant for only each other, and without a damn given, they linked hands and settled in to get some sleep.

********WDYG?********

Tim groaned as the phone next to him rang on the night stand. It was only 0600 in the morning on a Saturday, and he was not looking forward to what was on the other end of the line. He sat up, answering the call that made him feel the mantle of responsibility like no other. Not only was this going to be a rough case, but it was a joint case with the NSA. A Marine and an NSA agent were found shot point blank on the banks of the Potomac, and there were signs of torture.

He took notes from the dispatcher, and then turned to see Abby partially awake and rubbing her eyes. As he hung up she got out of bed. "I'll call Sierra and get Amira ready," she said. "I'll see you at the office."

"You're amazing Abby," he said as he got up to throw clothes on. He was dialing Ziva already as he pulled a pair of pants from the closet. She answered with the same low energy he felt. He quirked an eyebrow at that since he knew she was an early riser every day of the week. He didn't have time to think too deeply about it as he ran down what he had with her.

"I will call Sommers, and see you at the office," she said quietly, and then hung up. Tim continued getting dressed, and called Elly at the same time.

"Oh, hell no," the younger man answered the phone. "Are you serious? Have our bosses even taken off down the runway yet?"

Tim's mouth quirked up in a smile at that. "Afraid so. We have a Marine and an NSA agent killed, and possibly tortured. We need to hurry."

"I'm with Ned, and I'll call Greg."

"Great. See you in twenty."

Elly rolled over and shook Ned. "Baby, we've got a case. Come on, we gotta get up. Bad news bears. Dead Marine and NSA agent, and McGee says they've been tortured." That got Ned's attention, and he sat up.

"Seriously?" he asked.

"Yup," Elly got out of bed and headed for the closet, his phone to his ear to call Greg.

"Fuck," Ned said through a yawn, then got out of bed himself. Elly turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. Ned's more colorful vocabulary usually only came out at more erotic times. Then he saw the morning wood his fiancé was sporting, and realized that it was a fitting expression. The things he'd prefer to be doing almost distracted him from Greg answering the phone. Ned made his way into the bathroom to relieve his bladder, and then joined him in the bedroom where they were pulling clothes on in a hurry.

Elly finished first, and headed for the kitchen. There wasn't time to make coffee, but there was a six pack of 20 ounce Mountain Dews in the fridge. He grabbed one for each of them and a pack of Poptarts, then met Ned at the door. They grabbed their NCIS windbreakers from the hooks along the wall and hoped that it was a little cooler out than it had been the past couple of mornings. Otherwise, the windbreakers would be stifling.

As they jogged towards Ned's car, they were grateful to find it was actually somewhat chilly for an August morning. The rain that had come through overnight had helped with that. However, that rain would probably have ruined their crime scene.

They hopped in, Elly behind the wheel, and took off towards the Navy Yard. Ned opened the Poptarts, and handed one to Elly. They ate and slurped down their Dews as Ned found a song on the CD in the player to get them energized. He knew that Elly appreciated a good beat in the morning to get him going, and he knew which songs they agreed had that kind of power. They were soon bobbing their heads and tapping their fingers to the music, silent themselves as they headed into the quiet Navy Yard. A quick flash of their badges at the gate, and a couple of minutes later they found themselves standing in the evidence garage.

McGee was packing the truck, and briefing Ducky and Palmer on their situation. Ziva came in looking just as tired as the rest of them, which wasn't unnoticed by any of them. Greg finally came rushing in looking like he had been up all night, and not for fun reasons.

They were about to load into vehicles when Tim realized that they were missing Sommers. He shook his head and pulled out his phone. As he hit dial they heard a ring tone start chiming in the hallway, then Sommers appeared. He sauntered in casually, and looked at everyone staring at him. Tim simply shook his head and said, "Let's go."

"What?" Sommers asked, moving to get into the rear passenger of the Charger. Ziva looked at Tim from behind the wheel, then glanced surreptitiously back at Sommers, asking Tim's permission for something. Tim raised an eyebrow, and reached for the handle above his door. Three seconds later they were pealing out of the garage, the other charger with Elly's team and the two evidence trucks driven by Ducky and Palmer pulling out much slower after them.

Thankfully, they weren't going far, because Tim's stomach was rolling within two minutes of takeoff. Sommers was being tossed around the backseat. Tim was tired of reprimanding him for not wearing his seatbelt. One would've thought Ziva's driving would've been enough to scare the moron into putting it on, but his stubborn idiocy won out, and he slid here and there. When Ziva eventually slammed on the breaks he was pitched into the back of Tim's seat face first.

"Damn, Ziva! Get a grip!"

"Do you have your seatbelt on?" Tim asked, a cold chill to his voice.

"No, but she-" Tim cut him off.

"Put your damn seatbelt on, or get out of the car," he said. The tone of his voice was enough to make Ziva nervous. She'd never heard Tim use that tone of voice on a coworker, if at all.

"Fine!" he said, throwing the belt across him for all of a two year old's temper tantrum.

Ziva continued, a lot more subdued than before, but still mildly reckless. They were at the crime scene a few minutes later, and the four vehicles lined up next to the police and NSA vehicles.

Tim and Elly met up and walked side by side to the incident commander of the moment. He greeted them, and announced himself as Agent Terrence Hadley from the NSA.

"You have to understand," he said quietly as he led them to the bodies that were taped off. "This guy was one of our best analysts. He was supposed to be on vacation, so we weren't missing him. It's like the person who kidnapped him knew that he'd be overlooked."

Elly put his hand on the man's arm to stop him. He looked at McGee and then leaned in. "Are you saying that you think this is an inside job?" he asked.

"Either that or we have a mole," the man said, quiet anger in his voice. The gravity of the situation grew heavier, and all three of them knew this was an incredibly time sensitive situation.

They arrived at the bodies, and McGee snapped on gloves and pulled out his fingerprint scanner. He bent over to get a positive ID on their Marine, but the tags around his neck didn't lie. The man was Sergeant Raphael Davis. A few more clicks, and they knew he'd been stationed in Norfolk. The other man they were told was NSA Analyst Mark Piper.

McGee tried not to blanch at the weird angles each finger of the man's right hand were bent at, and focused on trying to be the leader he needed to be. The rest of their teams were standing around waiting for directions.

"How many people do you have working this?" he asked Hadley.

"I have two agents on the way in. One worked very closely with Mark, and she's going to be devastated to learn it's him. The other doesn't know him at all, and is a trusted friend of mine. Neither really have crime scene experience, but they're the only two I can trust right now."

"Understood," Tim said with a nod. "Do you want us to take the crime scene and autopsies? We're prepared to do so." Hadley looked behind him to see all of the NCIS agents and staff standing at the ready.

"Wow, I'd say you are. Might as well, but we'll work side by side in case anything triggers an idea."

"Makes sense," Elly said, glancing at Tim. Tim raised his hand and waved the rest of the team down to join them. They all came forward, some with packs, some with kit boxes, and two stretchers. They wasted no time in getting to work.

Tim stood with Hadley. "I know it's probably sensitive information, but what can you tell me about what kind of research and analysis Mark was doing?" He had his pen poised over his notepad, and Hadley sighed.

"He was a Middle East analyst. I don't know what files he was specifically working on, but he and Bishop worked together. She may know when she gets here. They were each other's professional yin and yang. Putting those two in a room together could accomplish feats unbelieved. And they are different as night and day. Just wait until you meet her." He paused and sighed. "But I guess you'd have to have known Mark to know."

"What was the last project they worked on together?" Tim asked.

"I don't know. I'm not their supervisor, though I used to be a couple of years ago. I'm in the field more now. Starting to wish I was back behind a desk."

Tim tried not to sigh in frustration. He knew there were things he wasn't going to be told during this investigation, but he couldn't tell if he was being played, or if it was true that Hadley didn't know anything about the current assignments his former agent was working on.

Another vehicle pulled up, and he watched as two people got out. One was an older man that reminded Tim a little of Mike Franks, and the other was a petite blonde woman. They came down the slope towards the scene, and just as they approached the floodlight Ziva was setting up turned on. Tim's eyes locked on the woman's face as she realized whose body was along the water's edge.

"Oh my God," she said. He saw her put her hand on her stomach and hold back whatever was trying to come up. He moved towards her, and Hadley joined him.

"Bishop, I'm so sorry," the older man said. "I didn't want to tell you on the phone, and I didn't have anyone else I could trust on this case."

She covered her mouth a moment, and shook her head as she visibly breathed deeply to control herself.

"What happened?" she finally choked out, her voice surprisingly calm.

"He's been tortured and executed," Hadley said quietly. Bishop nodded slowly, then moved past them to go to the dead man. They followed her, and the rest of the team stopped to watch her approach. She moved to stand next to him, then crouched. She squinted at the wounds, and her head tilted to the side.

"Doctor?" she asked Jimmy who was probing the body for time of death.

"Oh, I'm not a doctor yet," he said with a blush and a smile. "Just an assistant. Please call me Jimmy."

She nodded at him. "Jimmy, can you pull back his collar for me?" she asked.

He pulled it back gently with his gloved hand exposing a deep carving of some sort in the back of his shoulder.

"I've seen this before," she said. "Or at least read about it. There's a sect of home grown terrorists that use this kind of carving as a calling card. It's supposed to prevent the soul of the man from escaping and trying to find peace, trapping it in the body for eternity."

Greg knelt down next to her, and looked at it as he took a couple of photos. "Interesting. Despicable, but interesting."

Bishop sighed. "Yeah, but it strays so far from the religion they claim to be following that it's laughable."

"I'm Greg Parke," he said with a small smile.

"Ellie Bishop," she said, nodding at him and snapped a picture of the cuts with her phone. "Mark was my partner."

"Oh! I'm so sorry," Greg said, standing. He waited a moment and then decided to go back to focusing on the case rather than her emotional state. She seemed to be handling it surprisingly well. "So how do you know the carving?" he asked, trying to keep her mind on the technical.

"It's documented. Mark and I cover Middle Eastern communications, and that includes their liaisons with American-made terrorists. It's more particular with a sect in New York, though a case was heard of in Baltimore." Ned happened to move close enough to hear that, and he looked at Elly.

"Has anyone let the Director know what's going on here yet?" he asked him quietly.

"I'm pretty sure McGee has, but I'll check with him." Elly got closer to Tim who had just hung up his phone, and spoke softly. "What did the Director have to say about this?"

"That he wanted to see how well you play with the NSA," he said, standing up and moving a mere breath away from Elly. "He wants you to be an interagency liaison for this case."

Elly's eyes got wide for a moment before he blinked and nodded. "Okay then," he said. He looked at the older man standing with Agent Hadley and moved to join them. The men looked up at him as he approached, and he tried to project as much maturity as possible.

"Hi there," he greeted, a grim line to his lips. He reached out his hand for the older man that had arrived with the blonde. "I'm Special Agent Elijah Critten, NCIS." The man shook his hand in a firm shake, and nodded.

"I'm Agent Evan Spalding, Threat Analyst. I take it you've met the illustrious Terrence Hadley."

Elly quirked up the corner of his mouth in a grin. "Yes, momentarily. I know Agent McGee asked a couple of questions already, but I have a boatload more. Would you prefer to talk here or somewhere else?" He didn't give them the option of not talking, but gave them the illusion of choice by asking where the talking was going to take place. A political effort he'd learned years earlier, and was excited to see worked here.

"Would you want to come back to headquarters with us, or do you have a lockdown room at NCIS?" Spalding asked.

"We do have rooms that can be locked down. The bodies are coming back to our building. If anything is found, we'd be close enough for a quick response, but any paperwork and files needed are probably at your place."

"True," Hadley said. "NSA it is then."

Elly thought quickly. He should probably bring someone with him. He thought through the entire combined team, and though it was a hard call, he picked Greg. He needed to know if he was being played, and if this Bishop chick was really friends with their victim it wouldn't hurt to have someone with a psych background on hand. Not to mention it would keep Ned free to do his research unhindered if he wasn't tethered to them.

"Let me grab my partner, and we'll follow you over."

"Sounds good," Hadley said. "Hey Bishop!" he called. The blonde stood up, and turned around at the older man's beckon.

Elly walked past her with a grim attempt at a smile, and tapped McGee and Greg.

"Hey. I'm going to steal Greg, and go follow Hadley and his people back to NSA to go over things. I'll be in touch as I find out more info."

"Great," McGee said, grateful that he wouldn't have to play the politics. "Parke, give me your camera and go with Elly."

Elly looked up at Ned, and gave him a private smile. Ned smiled back, and returned to sketching the scene. Elly and Greg walked slowly so they could chat for a brief moment.

"What's going on?" Greg asked quietly.

"Vance wants me to play interagency liaison apparently with the NSA. I need someone who can see through the bullshit. If you smell something funny, pull on your ear."

Greg chuckled, then realized that Elly was serious.

"And if I'm in need of reining in, kick me or tell me," Elly said as they approached the three waiting for them up on the hill. "Folks, this is Agent Greg Parke." They all introduced themselves, and Elly realized that Bishop's first name was Ellie as well, and he made it a point to try to comment on it when the timing was better. Meanwhile, Greg noticed that Elly didn't mention anything about his profiling background, and he wondered if it was strategic or situational.

"Stay close," Hadley said. "Your badges won't be enough to get you past the gate. I'll have to vouch for you coming in behind me."

"Will do," Elly said. They all piled into their vehicles and caravanned out of the lot, leaving the rest of the team to take care of the bodies.

And deal with the bodies they did.

Photos were taken and sketches were drawn. The time of death was called at shortly before midnight. A little early for a body dump, which Jimmy announced less than elegantly, but Ned pointed out that there was a bad storm around that time, so it probably was the perfect cover, and probably washed away the best of the evidence. Though with the carvings, and the fact that the bodies never made it into the actual water, it was obvious that they were intended to be found.

They packed up and headed back to the Yard. It wasn't a long trip, thankfully, and Tim decided to drive this time. They bounced ideas off of each other in the car, both Ned and Sommers in the backseat this time.

"Do you think it would help if I reached out to any of my contacts?" Ned asked.

He noticed Ziva shaking her head no slightly, but it was Tim that answered. "Not yet. We need to find out what the NSA knows first. However, if you have any way of covertly putting your ear to the ground to find out anything about those carvings, that could be helpful."

"Oh, I can definitely do that," Ned said, trying to hold back his glee at the thought of being useful in a big way. He had just the place to go to see if anyone knew about the carvings without ever actually asking. He suddenly regretted taking his deep web apps off his phone. He rarely used them, but it was moments like this one that he needed them. They'd be to the office by time he got them downloaded again so he decided to wait. He made a mental note to put them back on when he had a minute though.

Sommers watched the three of them, and Tim saw it in the rearview mirror. He needed to figure out something he could sick their problem child on that would be both productive and out of the way. He didn't trust him with the victims' families. General backgrounds and finances then. He started handing out the assignments around the vehicle, and they all nodded their agreement, even Sommers.

He took it upon himself to take the evidence to Abby. He knew that she'd have a pot of coffee brewing, and he needed a cup badly. Sure enough, when he walked into the lab, he could smell its tantalizing aroma.

"Hey Abs," he said, plopping the box down.

"Shhhhh!" she said, holding up her hands. "Amira is asleep in my office on the futon."

"Sierra hasn't come to get her yet?" he asked.

"She had a flat tire. She'll be here soon. She had a spare, but the spare hadn't been used in so long that it was flat too and needed air. Roadside assistance is coming."

"Okay," Tim said, wishing he could do something for her, but knowing that they had bigger worries right now. "I need some coffee."

"I figured you would," she said with a smile. "I have cups, sugar, and creamer waiting for you and anyone else you'd like to send this way. Except for Sommers. If you want to take him some, that's fine, but I don't want him in my lab."

"I wouldn't wish that on you, Abs," he said with a raised eyebrow to himself as he poured a cup of life.

"Not if you ever wanna get laid again," she said with a smirk as she looked over the box of evidence. Tim chuckled and joined Abby, drinking tentatively from the cup to make sure it wasn't too hot. "What have you brought me?"

"Not too much, unfortunately. The rain last night washed away most of the good stuff. But I got their clothes from Ducky, and we have their shoes. The NSA analyst had indentations on his nose that looked like he wore glasses on a regular basis, but they weren't anywhere to be found."

"Could be just the slip up you need if they fell off somewhere in transport inconspicuously. Could be intentional if the agent knew he wasn't going to make it. Breadcrumbs."

"Good thinking," Tim said, pulling a bag from the box and holding it up. "They didn't take any of the stuff in this, unless there was cash in it." It was a simple black leather wallet. "Found it on our Marine. All of the cards he has in there makes me think he wasn't much of a cash person, but I could be wrong."

"If they left that behind then they really wanted to make sure there was nothing that could be traced back to them. Did the analyst have his wallet?"

"No," Tim said, his eyebrow rising again as he connected the dots.

"Then he may have gotten rid of that at some point as well. He's leaving breadcrumbs. You need to find that wallet."

"That's not all we need to find if he's leaving a trail behind for us." He picked up a bag that only had one gym shoe. "He only had his right one on. His left was nowhere to be found."

"Wow…" Abby said, taking the bag from Tim. "Those are… certainly conspicuous!" The shoe was neon yellow and green, and they stood out against the metal evidence table. They pulled a couple more bags out. "I take it this is his shirt?" A green shirt with yellow Hawaiian print flowers on it was desecrated with blood.

"Yeah," Tim said. "NSA Agent Hadley said that their guy was supposed to be on vacation."

"Ah," Abby said, quietly wondering if he dressed like this all the time, or if it was situational because of his holiday. "Well, I got this stuff, but I'm going to put the blood covered stuff back in the box until Amira leaves. Shouldn't be much longer."

"Good call. I'd forgotten she was back there. Moments like this I'm really glad she's not a morning person!" he kept his voice down, but his expression conveyed the extent of that relief.

"Yeah, really. Refill before you go," she said. Tim nodded and took the lid off his cup. A minute later he was walking out of the lab.

"Love you, Abs," he said casually.

"Love you, too, Timmy." She smiled at his retreating back, then shook her head as she dove into her work on scraping trace materials off the bottom of the gym shoe.

Tim took a deep breath as he got onto the elevator and thought about what needed to be done next. Quick backgrounds on the two men should be ready for him when he got up to the bullpen, and that would decide which path he took. His mind ran in circles as he thought of where each possibility led. It was still running when he entered his side of the bullpen and called everyone to brief.

Ned came to join them on their side of the bullpen, and they reported out on what they knew. Ziva had tackled the profile of the NSA agent, and Sommers was doing the profile of their Marine. Ned was anxious to share what he'd found out, too.

Sommers started, giving a blasé rundown on Davis. He was 38, single, just got back from a tour in Iraq, and didn't seem to have any connections to the deceased NSA agent. No friends or family connections, and from what he could see, no work connections, but that was going to take more digging.

"What about his finances?" Tim asked.

Sommers shrugged a little. "I'm waiting on warrants to get into his bank accounts." Tim raised an eyebrow, but decided not to indulge Sommers with the secret of their constant trend of hacking as the warrants are being written. He didn't trust him not to raise chaos.

Ziva took the clicker from Sommers, and started in on her more indepth description of NSA Analyst Mark Piper. He was divorced, two kids that were grown, and a penchant for taking island getaways. He travelled two or three times a year for a week at a time, and there was no pattern to the locations. Most recently, a few months prior, he'd been in the Dominican Republic. Before that it was Costa Rica, and before that it was the British Virgin Islands. He was currently supposed to be in St. Thomas, but obviously he never made his flight.

Ziva noted that she'd seen his most recent plane ticket was booked by a travel agent, and she had left a voicemail at the agency for a callback. His finances weren't spectacular, but they weren't suspicious either. She noted that the ex-wife and son lived in California, but his daughter lived in New York. She finished it up by stating that she hadn't reached out to them for questions, because she figured the NSA would be doing that.

Tim nodded and Sommers gave her a look that indicated he thought she was brown nosing by having more information than him. Ziva paid him no mind, but Ned had to restrain himself from punching the guy when he saw. He was distracted from his anger by his glee though when the clicker landed in his hand and he presented his discovery. As predicted, it wasn't hard at all to find information on the carvings found on the body.

"This is a snippet of what I've found out. There are at any given time hundreds of people on this message board." He clicked and brought up the screen capture he'd done of the message board. It was in Arabic, and he looked at Ziva to see that she was taking it all in, being the only other person amongst them that could read it. There was a picture of a somewhat similar, yet simpler, carving as the one on their victims, only it was in a wall on a house in a desert town.

"This is the Arabic letter nun. It's like the English N. There have been rumors for a long time that these are being put on the houses of Christians in Iraq, but this thread shows people bragging about doing it in this village. The village then tells the people to convert to Islam, pay a really hefty tax, or die. Whenever our troops try to confirm this activity, it's denied, but there are villagers begging for help. The village leaders insist that the nun is placed on the house by the occupants as a symbol of pride, announcing themselves as Nazarene, or followers of Jesus of Nazareth.

"Now, what's on our victims is a bastardized version by a group of homegrown terrorists. They've made up this myth that carving the nun with the shortened shahada over it will trap a non-Muslim's soul in their body. This homegrown group is trying to connect with ISIS, and they're not at all organized. Real jihadists laugh at them. Imagine a group of teenagers getting together under a cause just to feel like they are a part of something, and then making up their own rules, trying to develop or design something cool enough to be noticed by the big bad ISIS so that they'll let them into their club."

Tim and Ziva nodded at him but Sommers just looked bored. "These guys are trying to find something big enough to be let in to play with the big boys. They're contacting anyone and everyone to try to find their way in. This thread here is a running compilation of criticism of the "baby jihadists", and some go as far as to say that the carvings are actually desecrating a person's body, and that by trapping the soul, if the carving does, keeps the soul from being taken to the afterlife for judgement."

"Do they have a name?" Tim asked.

"'atfal Alnabii, or Children of the Prophet. I'm seriously wondering if this group might actually be teenagers. If it wasn't for the fact that they took down a Marine, I'd put money on it. But to subdue two grown men, one with military training? And Piper wasn't helpless. He's had FLETC training. As you could expect from an analyst though, his fighting scores weren't that great."

"What if they used their childlike innocence to lure them into an ambush though?" Ziva asked.

Tim nodded. "True. One is a Marine, and one has kids of his own. There's a good chance that they both could have easily been told by one of the kids that their friend was hurt, and then ambushed. We'll have to wait for Ducky's autopsy reports to see if they were hit over the head or drugged."

"Have you heard from Elly yet?" Ned asked Tim.

"Which one?" he asked with a small huff of air.

"I know! That's so weird!" Ned exclaimed. "Did you two catch that the NSA chick was named Ellie, too?"

Ziva's expression told him that she had not, but Sommers ignored the question. Ned thought that he looked like a petulant child standing there, too cool to be bothered with the world around him. Funny, he thought. That's exactly what I'd expect from one of the kids we're talking about possibly being in this terrorist group. If we can extract his opinion, it may actually be worth something on this case. He tucked the thought away for a time where it might be needed.

"But no, I haven't heard from Elly yet. I was going to text him after this and see if they could meet me in MTAC. Ziva, take Sommers and search our Marine's home. Let me know when you're finished. We might need you to meet at the NSA agent's house to search that as well. It looks like neither of their agents have any crime scene experience. Analysts typically don't."

"What am I doing?" Ned asked.

"You're coming with me into MTAC."

"Of course. MTAC. My very own dark cave," Ned turned, and headed to his desk. He started printing off things that he might want to take with him as he listened to everyone else doing their thing. He was ready to go upstairs before Tim even said his name. He had two folders and a notebook, and of course, his favorite pen.

They made their way up the stairs to the room, scanned in, and headed down the ramp.

"Hey, Evelyn," Ned called.

"Hey, Dorney!" she said with a smile. "What brings the two of you in?" She turned back around to her boards as something lit up in front of her. "Would this call from the NSA be for the two of you?" she asked.

"That's us," Ned said with a smile.

"Lock us down please, Evelyn" Tim said.

The screen came up in front of them showing the lockdown protocol activating for the room, then an image appeared of a conference room with the expected agents.

"Hello everyone," Ned said, his MTAC persona falling into place like a perfect brick. "Our room is on lockdown."

Hadley took point on their end for the conversation, and Elly was glad. Ned in MTAC was a completely different Ned than shared in the bullpen. It was much more like the Ned he was in the bedroom, and suddenly Elly's mouth had gone dry. They hadn't really thought this through. He was going to have to pull himself together. He suddenly realized that he was being a different Elly right now than the one in the bullpen. He was Elijah here, and a liaison for the agency with the NSA. It was even more important that he keep his cool.

"We're on lockdown as well," Hadley replied. "We've been discussing what we can about the most recent files that Mark was working on. Ellie has been cleared to read all of us in on the data they've had to a certain point. It's fairly enlightening."

"Great," Ned said. "We've uncovered a little bit of information ourselves. It's probably not much compared to what you have though, so would you like to share what you've put together first?"

The small woman was sitting cross-legged in the seat closest to the camera, and she began briefing them all on the most recent communique that she and Mark had been working through.

"We've noticed that there is an uptick in chatter about using vulnerable US jihadist groups as a means to obtain needed information. They're considered dispensable, and they're always desperate to prove themselves. The larger terrorist organizations in the Middle East have been hesitant to use them though because they're so unstable. Not only that, but many of them don't subscribe to true Islamic teachings, as they see it. A lot of the communications we're finding are saying that there's some kind of information that they need badly enough to be willing to branch out and use these groups."

"You say "groups", Ned said. "How many are you talking about?"

"There's really not as many as you'd think. There are only about three recognized organized groups, and even then, organized just means that there's a leadership structure in place. They are as small, or smaller, than an urban gang, and they have very similar roots. There is one bigger, nationwide organization, but it isn't being targeted in these communications because they're already tied into ISIS and al-Qaida. They're not considered dispensable."

"You're right. I would've thought there were a lot more," Tim said with a raised eyebrow.

"There are a lot of individuals that consider themselves jihadists, but they're usually loners. There are also a number of disorganized groups that start and then crumble because it's more about power, and they can't develop a leadership structure.

"The biggest draw in the US for homegrown terrorism is actually white supremacy and extremist Christianity. And of course traditional gangs are very terroristic, but since they are usually based on neighborhood or racial divisions and criminal activity, not political, ethnic, or religious zeal, they aren't considered terrorists by most agencies, or individuals for that matter."

"True," Parke said from behind them. "And the targets tend to be different. Gangs usually stay localized. They like to control their area and all of the people in it, and they like to control their trade. Though they tend to rule with fear tactics, they aren't about destroying the major government or instilling fear into the heart of the nation. Terrorists groups are."

Bishop and Hadley turned to look at Parke as he spoke, both with a look that said they hadn't expected that commentary from him. Ned put the pieces together immediately that he'd been a silent watcher so far in the conversations, and he was keeping his background on the down low. He made a mental note not to give him away.

"So there is someone communicating with a group in particular?" he asked Bishop. She nodded.

"In a way. There is a go-between. An individual known as Ghurab."

"Crow?" Ned asked, trying to remember if he had the word right in translation.

Bishop nodded, and she and Hadley exchanged another look. That one conveyed that they shouldn't take these NCIS folks for granted. Their talents were unexpected.

"Doesn't the crow have some kind of symbolism with death in Islam?" Ned asked.

"Yes," Bishop answered. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Parke spoke up.

"Two brothers, one kills the other, doesn't know what to do with his brother's body, and a crow demonstrates by burying another crow."

Bishop raised her eyebrows, then turned back to the screen. "Basically," she said. "We haven't been able to figure out who Crow is. We're suspecting he's our possible mole."

"What kind of steps have you taken so far to ferret him out?" Tim asked.

"We've been tracking him for months, but we didn't think he was local, nonetheless an NSA agent," Bishop said with a tightlipped expression of worry and embarrassment. "Our reports get sent on to other agencies that do the actual investigations. We track what we can, but the FBI or CIA usually takes over."

"Who have you been using to locate Crow?" Ned asked.

They could already see Elly nodding in the background. "The FBI," Hadley said. "Since we believe this person is domestic."

"What was your analysis of him before?" Ned said. "Can you share the documents?"

"I wrote the report. I'll be happy to share it with you. I've already had someone look at it to confirm any redactions that had to be made."

"Do you have any research related to this situation at all that Agent Piper was working on?" he asked her.

"Yes, but they are being checked for necessary redactions right now. I'll send copies as soon as I can."

"Thank you," Tim answered for them. "Agent Critten told me that you're searching Agent Piper's house. Are you questioning his family for any information?"

Hadley nodded. "We have agents in New York and San Diego who are reaching out to Mark's family to see if there's anything they can tell us. They're grieving right now, so it's not going anywhere."

Ned nodded and noted this in his notebook. "So who is Crow communicating with?"

"A small band of misfits in the New York area. We haven't been able to track any of them. They're very technologically savvy, and they've been able to block everything we've done so far to look for them. Agent Critten said he and Agent McGee may be able to take a crack at seeing if they could find anything useful. I'll provide what I can."

"Is this group in New York called 'atfal Anabii?" Ned asked, looking up just in time to catch whatever reactions he could.

Bishop's was obviously confused and surprised. Hadley looked over at her in concern. She leaned in, her arms on the arms of the chair and her mouth slightly open as she squinted at Hadley then back at the screen. "What do you know about them?" she asked.

"Just what we've been able to scrounge off of a message board this morning," Ned said casually, making sure not to give away his discomfort at her reaction being slightly accusatory.

"Which board?" she said.

"Well, there's a couple of them," he said honestly, keeping his spine. "If you want to come over I'll be glad to show you."

"Yeah, I'd like that," she said, looking at Hadley and getting the nod. She got to her feet immediately.

"We'll pack up whatever documents we can, and we'll see you all in an hour," Elly said, getting to his feet. He was relieved to be getting back on his turf. He'd been playing the role as well as he could, but it would be much more comfortable to be behind his own desk doing what he loved the most- tracking these bastards with his tech skills.

"Before you go," Ned said, speaking up and interrupting their departure. "Who is the FBI agent you've passed this intel on to?"

"Jo Keo. She's a specialist in this kind of thing," Hadley said. "She's been contacted. She was going to meet here this afternoon, but we can arrange to meet at your building instead."

"Might as well have everyone make themselves at home," Elly said with a grin.

"We'll see you all soon," Tim said. Once the screen went blank he turned to Ned who was scribbling furiously in his notebook. "You certainly know how to make an impression." His smirk assured Ned that the comment wasn't sour.

Ned shrugged. "They need to know that we don't mess around," Ned said. "I've learned over the past couple of months from sitting in on briefings in this room that a lot of the other organizations look at us like we're the baby brother of the alphabet soup. The Director certainly knows how to change that opinion quickly, and I've picked up a couple of things."

"I'll say," Tim said with a small chuckle. "When you mentioned the Children of the Prophet, in Arabic nonetheless, I thought Bishop was going to crawl through the camera to get a better look at you."

"She did look a little surprised," Ned said, still scribbling in his notebook as he turned to head for the door. "Thanks Evelyn!" he called. Tim went to follow him and as they approached the door he realized that Ned was writing his notes in Arabic. He raised an eyebrow at that and decided to ask him about it later. Now didn't look like the time since he was so intent on his note taking.

They headed down the stairs, Ned finally looking up from the notebook, but his pen was still poised in the air, ready to resume when the danger of the steps had passed. They went their separate ways, and Tim went to his desk. He thought for a moment about what to do, then decided he was going to have to forgo the online sleuthing to play Gibbs and go check in with Ducky and Abby for any updates. He wanted to be armed with as much information as possible when the NSA team showed up. He sighed and got to his feet. This was going to be a long case.

*********WDYG?********

"What do you mean Mark's dead?!"

Ellie sighed as she talked to her husband on the phone from the small office she never spent any time in. She hated it because it was soundproof and silent, which made her feel like she was suffocating. She only came in when she absolutely had to for important conversations. This was one of them.

"He's been executed and tortured. First glance showed multiple cuts, broken bones, and bruises. I'm heading over to NCIS now to work with their team. The other man executed with him was a Marine."

"And you're trusting Navy cops to lead you through this investigation?! We have our own agents! Agents that are much higher up the clearance ladder than theirs! We can't chance the wrong information getting into the general public."

"You think I don't know that?!" she snapped. Her fingers went to the throbbing at her temple as she began to work on the headache. "I'm actually really impressed with them so far. They have access to information that I had no idea they could possibly know. They seem to be keeping up without us, and if I'm not there with them they just might pass by us. I need to keep my finger on the pulse of the information, and right now, they're able to get into the field and find it. So for now, I'm with them."

Jake sighed. "I just want you safe."

Ellie smiled. "I know. Which is why I'm not biting your head off for not trusting me to know the limits of what I can and cannot share."

"I'm a lawyer. That's just the job coming out. You know that I trust you more than anything."

"Yeah, I do."

"So who is doing your redactions?" he asked.

"Marion and Hadley. Though I have some raw files with me I may need to redact myself. I'll call you if I run into a conundrum."

"Are these your only copies?"

"I have the digitals."

"Okay. Just promise me that you'll stay safe."

"I'll do my best," she said as she slipped the files she needed into her bag. "I'll be home when I can."

"Text me and let me know tonight where things stand. I may have to head to L. A. in the morning for an issue they're having out there."

"Okay. Will do. Got to go. Love you."

"Love you, too."

Ellie slipped her phone in her back pocket and headed for the door. She was anxious about what these NCIS people seemed to know about. A lot of that stuff on the 'atfal Anabii was seriously classified. The group was loud enough though that she guessed they could've heard something through some kind of communique, but she thought they'd squashed all of that so they could follow the group back to Crow. She was a little freaked out that they knew. Hopefully their source would be exposed soon. She would feel much better when she knew. The idea that their leak may be putting information out there on a public level had her stomach tied in knots. Something felt wrong in her gut, and she knew she wouldn't rest until it worked itself out, for better or worse.

*********WDYG?*********

Tony had switched seats with Jethro halfway through the flight. He'd stated he needed a change in scenery. Jethro just smiled and looked at him with laughter in his eyes. Now he sat with his book on the aisle as Tony looked out the window at the ocean, snapping photos with his phone. There was nothing below them except water as of yet, but soon they'd be over France where they'd transfer planes for a much quicker flight. The sun was setting though and it was beautiful. He watched it for a minute before Tony leaned his head against the wall and stared out the window with a sigh.

"Penny for your thoughts," Jethro said softly.

Tony turned to him with a sad smile. "Just missing Amira."

Jethro chuckled. "You've only been apart from her for a day."

"Exactly! A whole entire day!" Tony exclaimed quietly. "I'm still a fairly new father, and though we've been separated before, I knew I could just get in my car and be to her in twenty minutes. This is different."

Jethro laid his hand on Tony's thigh. "It's going to be okay."

"I know, but I still miss her." Tony smiled and laid his hand on Jethro's.

"I do, too."

"You do?"

Jethro nodded with a smile. "But I know she's perfectly safe with our family."

Tony nodded back, but sighed. "Yeah. With everyone protecting her she's never going to have to worry about so much as a splinter without getting the royal treatment."

"We can handle splinters on our own," Jethro said with a chuckle, letting his thumb caress the back of Tony's hand.

"But we're not there. So if she gets a splinter-"

"She'll have Abby and Tim there expertly extracting it with a pair of tweezers," Jethro said with a bright smile.

"Can you just imagine Abby wearing her goggles, latex gloves and holding a magnifying glass over her little palm?"

Both men chuckled.

"It's going to be okay," Jethro reassured. "You should try to get some rest."

"Why? By time we get there it will be time for bed."

All Jethro had to do was cock and eyebrow at Tony and he understood that yes, it would indeed be time for bed, but there would be no sleeping. Tony's eyes widened in understanding, and then he smiled as he pulled the blanket back over him and reclined his seat.

Jethro chuckled and tried to go back to his book, but all he could think about was the little girl they'd left behind with their teams and how much he was going to miss her that week.