Hello Loves! Thank you for the reviews and feedback. I'm enjoying being back in this universe. This chapter brings some of those case questions together and things start taking shape. The timeline *should* go a little quicker from here on. (It's taken me seven chapters to cover 36 hours of 'verse time. Might be a record for me!) Enjoy!
Chapter Seven
Bishop looked at the blinking light on her phone again and practically growled. She didn't know what else she could tell Jake. She picked up the phone and found the text button.
- -I'm so sorry to leave you in a time like this, but they're sending me to Los Angeles. I'm catching the last flight out tonight. I don't know when I'll be back. I could be there for a day, could be a week. Are you going to be okay?
Bishop sighed in relief. She loved her husband, and work had kept them apart a lot lately, but if he was safe in L.A. then she would have space to work uninterrupted.
-I'm fine. The NCIS teams are hunting down a lead. I'm sitting in their office with one of their people going through our documents to see if we can find anything. Are you still working their wiretapping drama?
- -I don't even know what I'm working yet. All I know is that they need me there and it will be explained upon arrival.
Bishop smirked. –Ooo… sounds all secret agent!
- - Haha! Not my speed. I'm probably going to pull my hair out as soon as they tell me what I'm there for.
-Be safe, try to have fun, and I love you.
- -I love you, too. Keep me in the loop. I hate that you're not working with our people on this. I don't trust other agencies with our data, so imagine how I feel about them with you. Are you sure you can't come back to the office? At least while I'm gone so I know you're safe?
After some serious eye rolling, Bishop responded.
-I'm ten times safer here. These people trust me, and they've taken me under their wing. At the office I'm a suspect.
- -A suspect? Why?
-Because I knew Mark's schedule and have some of the skills and access required to know critical pieces of this case.
There was a long pause between texts, to the point that Bishop had picked up her report and resumed combing it for information.
- -I'm sorry. I hadn't thought of that. I don't want you in harm's way. Maybe you should ask to be relieved of the case completely.
A scoff this time.
-I can take care of myself. Besides, I need to be here. I need to clear myself, and I need to find who did this to Mark. He was my partner and my friend. No one will understand him like I will. And after working with these people, I believe that they are our best chance at finding out who did this. I seriously had no idea they were hiding this powerhouse of skills. We *will* find Mark's killer, and when we do, he'd better be ready.
- -You're scaring me Ellie. This doesn't sound like you.
-I feel more like myself than I have for a long time.
- -We should talk when I get home. Or before then. I have to go for now. Got a plane to catch.
-Okay. Safe travels.
- -Thanks. Good luck with the case.
Bishop sat as far back as she could from her perch on top of Tony's desk, and crossed her arms.
"What's up?" Ned asked.
Her arms came uncrossed and she turned to Ned. "It's Jake, my husband. He's being all weird and protective, like he's afraid I'm going to be abducted by you guys and never come back to the NSA. And he's trying to talk me out of being a part of this case altogether because he's afraid I'm in danger. I tried to tell him that I'm perfectly safe, but he doesn't get it. I have to do this, Ned. I have to find Mark's killer."
Ned was taken aback somewhat by the passion his new friend was demonstrating, but he understood it. If something happened to someone on his team, he'd be acting the same way. However, he'd gotten the impression that the NSA people weren't that close.
"You and Mark were really close, huh?" he asked.
Bishop nodded. "Yeah. He was senior analyst, and he picked me as his partner. Not all analysts have partners. I didn't before Mark. Most of our team knows that this position is really training to take his place one day, and he chose me. I tried to tell him that I wanted to be in the field more and that I wasn't sure if this is what I wanted to do with my life, but he said that I would be surprised at how important the job was."
"Well," Ned started, thinking through what he was being told and what he'd learned of Mark so far. "If Mark was working on a side operation, he probably chose you because he believed that out of the analysts you had the best potential to continue with those kinds of projects."
Bishop looked from him to aimlessly scan the room as she thought of that, her mouth half open. "I hadn't thought of that," she said softly.
"If that's the case, what has he been teaching you that doesn't fit exactly in with your work?" he asked, feeling like there was a string there that needed to be pulled.
Bishop's gaze fell on him again, this time much more alert. "You may be on to something there."
"What are you thinking?" he pulled gently.
"He's taken me to the range with him a couple of times. I already knew how to shoot, but he told me it was a skill I should never let get rusty."
Ned started scribbling things in his notebook and encouraged her to continue.
"He made me sit through all of his vacation photos. I wonder if there's something there I'm missing."
"We should check with Abby on the photos," Ned suggested. "She's got the computer and thumb drives."
"Yeah, but there were other things. Like, he practiced his Spanish with me. I took it in high school and he would make me practice with him, saying it kept him "linguistically in shape" for his trips. Now I think he was trying to keep my Spanish skills polished and comfortable."
Ned continued writing, "Good. What else?"
"We'd sit in sometimes on briefings for other departments. He said it was to keep us fresh. We needed to understand where the organization was going, and that his style may not work for me one day so I needed to pay attention to the others to piece together my own style. He wanted me to know the analysts from the other departments, though he never really gave the impression that he had any special relationships with any of them."
"If you were running an undercover operation with another agent, and no one could know, would you do anything that could make you seem like you had a special relationship with any of them?"
"No," Bishop said, tapping her fingers on the desk. "I'd steer completely clear of them."
"But if you were an agent that might get paired with you one day on said undercover mission, would you watch and observe from afar, or would you take the opportunity to meet you and get to know you?' he prompted.
"I guess that's personal choice. I don't particularly remember anyone watching me, but there were a dozen analysts that would want to talk to us when we came over to their meetings."
"Well, were they a bunch of nerdy guys, because no offense, you're young and pretty, and you know…"
Bishop laughed. "There were a couple that fit that, but many analysts are communications people, not tech geeks. They know how to talk to people. A lot of them choose not to, but they know how if they need to."
"Point taken," Ned kept scribbling. "So… did any of them talk to you in particular?"
"Of course. I've got friends at work. We just aren't super close. I spent most of my time with Jake and Mark, sometimes Hadley. There's Angela, too. She's in Eastern Europe communications though, not Middle Eastern or anything to do with the Caribbean. We share some technique tips from time to time, but she's more of the kind of friend I go get my hair done with and talk about our husbands."
They sat in silence for a minute while Bishop thought. She looked at Ned, chewing her bottom lip as she thought about something. She tilted her head to the side a little and considered it. Ned waited patiently.
"Hadley introduced me to someone once. Hadley used to be my and Mark's supervisor, then he moved into the role he's in now. But when he called me in a couple of years ago to let me know that I was going to be Mark's pick for his partner and eventual protégé, he was in a meeting with someone else. I walked in, thinking I was going to find Hadley alone, but he was with a man about ten years older than me. He was introduced as simply Devon. And Mark informed me of my new position with Mark by explaining to Devon who I would be working with and what I'd be doing."
Bishop got lost in the memory, trying to pick it apart. Hadley had smiled up at Devon and said, "This is Ellie Bishop. She's going to be Mark's new analytic partner and he's going to bring her up to take his place one day as Senior Analyst of Middle Eastern Communications."
Ellie had been honored, but was also daunted by the responsibility. She'd met with Mark, but only because she was asked to, not because she was sure that was what she wanted to do one day. She'd even expressed as much to Mark when they talked, but he'd just smiled and nodded and told her that she'd be surprised by everything it opened the doors to.
"Devon," she told Ned. "I never saw him again, but Hadley introduced me to him like he was an old friend of his, like he had his complete trust. I may as well have walked in on them talking baseball with how casual the meeting went. Devon was really laid back, cheerful… he shook my hand, congratulated me, and gave me a once over. He was kind of cute, but he saw my wedding band and asked me if I was married. He glanced over at Hadley with a… look. I couldn't place it at the time, but thinking back it was with concern. Once I explained that Jake was an NSA lawyer, his expression changed back to the cheerful one. I thought he was just bummed that I wasn't single, but now that I look back at that… it looks completely different."
"Do you think Hadley had set Mark and Devon up on whatever operation was taking Mark to the islands?" Ned asked.
"I may be reading too much into it, but if anyone was partnering with Mark on these trips, I would bet money that it's Devon."
"We should go check out those pictures with Abby. Maybe Devon is in one of the photos."
"Let's go." Bishop hopped down from her roost atop of Tony's desk. Ned locked down his computer and put the files in his desk drawer, locking them up as well. Then he led Bishop towards the elevator. He felt like he was going down the rabbit hole, and he didn't know if he should be opening this Pandora's box without talking to McGee and Elly. Their purpose wasn't to expose an NSA operation, but to find out who killed Mark. If Mark was killed by Crow, it may not have anything to do with the operation, but he had a feeling that it was too late. The box was open.
********WDYG?********
Tim looked at the scene before him and swallowed. This is not what he expected to find. He needed answers, not more problems. He sighed and stepped closer to the body hanging from the ceiling and shined his flashlight on it.
"Somebody try to find some light in here," he shouted over his shoulder. He could practically feel the people behind him scatter with how sensitive his nerves were at the moment.
The man hanging from the chains attached to the rafters looked pale and deflated. Tim looked down and realized belatedly that the man was missing his feet, and there was a pool of blood that he followed until he realized it was under his own shoes. He grimaced. Abby was going to kill him. He almost wished Gibbs was there to smack him upside the back of the head. He hadn't watched where he was stepping. He tried to console himself that it was really too dark in the room to realize that the blood pool had spread that far out. He shined the light on it and wondered how, and if, there was any blood left in their victim.
He stepped gingerly out of the pool of blood as Elly came to stand next to him. He reached his hands out, stopping him just in time before he too contaminated their scene. Elly looked confused and then Tim shined his flashlight on the ground.
"Oh, that's gross," Elly said. "Thanks for the warning."
Tim just nodded. Elly moved around a large piece of machinery that was covered with a clear tarp and then Tim heard him curse.
"Fuck," he said softly. "We've got a second victim," he shouted through the building. Suddenly all the lights came on.
"Found the lights," Sommers shouted.
"Figured that out, genius," Elly muttered to himself and crouched down next to the victim. "Hey, McGee?"
"Yeah," Tim said, still unwilling to move as to not spread the blood everywhere, cringing at the knowledge that he would never be able to wear these shoes again because they were now evidence.
"This one is really young. We'll be lucky if he's 18."
Tim sighed heavily and closed his eyes. "Guess Dorney and Parke's theory about them being kids was right on."
Elly stood up and looked past the machinery at Tim. "Gunshot wound to the head. Small caliber, thankfully. I'm no expert, but it doesn't look like the blood he has on him was from previous activities. Must've been an observer."
"Could he have been kidnapped, too?" Tim asked, wondering if maybe he wasn't a part of the group since he was dead.
"No signs of defensive wounds, no markings around his wrists or neck, no other damage to him than the gunshot wound."
Tim nodded. "Can someone get me some booties please?" he shouted, feeling like his nerves were going to jump out of his body at any moment.
"Coming," Ziva said from behind him, handing him two plastic shoe covers and taking out the camera to get pictures of his shoes.
Elly was joined by Greg, and he bent to look at the young man more closely.
"Shaggy hair. Scruffy beginnings of a beard. Wasn't even old enough to grow one properly yet." He shook his head and reached into the kid's pockets with a gloved hand. He found his wallet and flipped it open. "Samuel Kroger. Just turned 19. Lives, or at least did at one time, in Newark. He's a little ways from home."
"This is insane," Elly said quietly. "We've got children terrorists killing and torturing Marines and NSA agents."
"We don't know if the kids did all of this. Like we said earlier, they were probably under the control of Crow. He may be the knifeman."
Elly nodded, not convinced. He walked away from the young body and circled the crime scene, taking in the backside of the hanging man.
"Aw, hell no," he said, shaking his head.
"What?" both Tim and Greg asked. Even Ziva and Sommers stopped to look at him.
"Assholes left a message for us."
Greg got up to come around to look at the man's back as Elly read off the words, "They're mine now." Elly's eyes looked up to meet Tim's as Greg started snapping photos. "It's carved into his fucking back, McGee."
Tim nodded. "We know we're working with some really sick individuals, whether they're adults or children. Everyone stay alert. We don't know what kind of traps are set in here. They obviously wanted us to find this place. There could be something dangerous here."
Everyone nodded, and Ziva left McGee to grab Sommers and start a search of the building for any booby traps. Greg looked at the two chairs from his position behind the body and stared thoughtfully.
"Whatcha thinking?" Elly asked softly. Greg turned his head towards Elly though his eyes remained on the chairs.
"Remember what Ned said about how they might have tortured Piper to get to Davis?"
"Yeah?"
"I think they were doing that with this man. They were torturing him with the other two tied down to the chairs. Look at them." Elly and Tim looked at the chairs as closely as they could without getting into the blood. Tim noticed that there was blood all over one of them. It reflected in the florescent overhead lights.
"Piper was in that one," he pointed to the one on the right. "It's covered in blood from where they carved him up. So, Davis was in that one." He gestured with his head to the one on the left.
Greg and Elly both nodded. Tim shone his flashlight at the man's arm as he squinted, and the other two men looked at him curiously.
"What do you see?" Greg asked, starting to come around the blood pool to stand with Tim.
Tim's expression was thoughtful, his mouth hanging open as he put the pieces together. "He's got a tattoo on his inner arm. Can you tell what it is?"
Greg moved to a position Tim still couldn't as he wiped down his shoes and shone his flashlight on the arm. "It's a wolf or a dog with the words Semper Fi, I think."
"How much do you wanna bet this guy is Carmichael?" Elly asked crossing his arms across the puddle from them. The other two both nodded, looking grim.
"Torturing Piper wasn't enough heartache for Davis so they tortured his Marine buddy in front of him?" Greg asked, his hands on his hips as he looked back and forth between Tim and Elly.
"But didn't Carmichael give Davis up? Isn't he supposed to be one of the bad guys? Why did they torture him?" Elly posed.
"Why did they shoot a 19 year old kid?" Greg asked. "This Crow guy is jacked up."
Ziva and Sommers came to join them. "We did not see anything that appears to be a trap, but I suggest we remain vigilant."
"Alright folks. Let's get to work," Tim said, his eyes on the man they believed was Carmichael. He shook his head at his luck to get assigned such a messed-up case while both Gibbs and Tony were away, but finished wiping down his shoes enough to walk in them with booties on without slipping.
The rest of the team started in on fingerprinting whatever they could without going into the blood, as well as taking pictures of anything and everything while sketching. It didn't take long for Ducky and Jimmy to arrive.
"Oh, dear," Ducky said as he entered the building, causing everyone to glance up at him. They could all see Jimmy visibly swallow as his Adam's apple bobbed. They walked up to the scene and sat their things down. "Looks like this poor fellow has had a rather bad time of it."
"There's another body over here, Ducky," Greg called from next to Kroger. "Be forewarned, he's pretty young."
"How young?" Ducky asked as he came around the machinery to find the body.
"He's 19," Greg answered.
"Much too young to be involved in something so gruesome," Ducky said with a sideways glance at the youthful face of the man.
"Might have been what got him killed," Greg answered.
"How do you figure?" Jimmy asked, joining them.
"I have a feeling he started protesting the torture and got silenced permanently."
"Mr. Palmer, if you would, the liver probe."
"Yes, Dr. Mallard," Jimmy said, moving to get the device from the bag.
They worked on the younger man while Tim worked with the others to clear a path to the man chained up.
"How did they get him up there?" Elly asked.
Everyone turned to look around, and Ziva's eyes fell on a folding ladder. "Perhaps that?" she said, gesturing to it.
"Probably," Sommers said, surprising everyone as he moved towards it. Instead of bringing it to them though he broke out the fingerprinting kit and started dusting it. Tim and Ziva exchanged a look with a raised eyebrow that said they didn't expect that from him. They patiently waited while he took a few prints, then he folded up the kit and brought the ladder over to them after tucking away the kit in his bag.
Ducky joined them and they looked at the dangling man like a puzzle. "Would you like to examine him up there or down here, Ducky?" Tim asked.
"I'll begin up there, and then we'll take him down." They watched as he called the time of death as approximately 24-36 hours before. "I'll be able to get a better time for you once we get him home. Same as our young victim. I think it's fair to say that it was shortly before our previous victims were taken to their drop point."
"Ducky, can you please?" Tim asked, holding up his fingerprint scanner.
"Certainly," he said, holding the man's shriveling finger against the small device. It beeped that the scan was complete, and he handed it back to Tim.
McGee set the search parameters and hit go. It only took a minute for the results to come back that it was indeed Corporal Carmichael.
"It's him. If you all could continue in here, I'm going to call the director and update him. He should probably get the message to Staff Sergeant Melbourne that the women aren't safe."
"Do you want me to update Hadley?" Elly asked.
Tim thought for a moment. "No. Not yet." If Bishop wasn't willing to completely trust him anymore, then he wasn't either.
"Does anyone know where the poor lad's feet have run off to?" Ducky asked, not realizing his pun until it was too late. Jimmy stifled a chuckle, and everyone else looked at Ducky with slack jaws. "Oh, please do forgive my choice in expressions. You know what I meant though."
"No, Ducky," Ziva said, trying to shake off her shock at the thought that Ducky of all people would make such a heartless joke. "No one has seen them."
"Well, then. I do believe we have another mystery."
********WDYG?*********
Vance saw McGee's name on the caller ID before he heard the phone vibrate. He was anxious for some movement on this case. He was trying not to micromanage, but such a high-profile case landing in his peoples' laps as soon as they were left without their leadership was cringeworthy, to say the least. Homegrown terrorists being led by an unidentified NSA mole that had taken down a Marine and NSA Analyst. He couldn't have written a worse scenario to be dropped on McGee for his first time in charge without Gibbs to back him up. Without either Gibbs to back him up. It was a nightmare.
"Vance," he answered, trying to sound stern but collected.
"Director," McGee answered. "I have good news and bad news."
"Okay?"
"We got Carmichael."
Vance squinted at nothing in particular while waiting for the "but".
"But?"
"He's dead."
"Of course he is. What happened?"
"We searched one of the warehouses that work with a rare wood Abby found traces of on our victim's shoes. We found Carmichael chained to the ceiling, missing his feet. We also found another body. A nineteen year old man named Samuel Kroger. Carmichael had been tortured. Kroger had not. There was a message left for us."
"Which was?"
"They're mine now" was carved into Carmichael's back," he said, suppressing a sigh.
"You think he meant the women?" Vance asked, looking at the door, thinking he was about to make a trip to MTAC.
"I'm pretty sure. The room was set up with chairs aimed at Carmichael. We believe he was being tortured as a way to get to Davis and Piper. Make them talk or Carmichael suffered more."
"Sadistic bastard," Vance said. "I'll alert Melbourne."
"I'll be in touch if anything else happens. Otherwise we're heading back to the Yard."
"Come find me when you get here."
"Will do."
Vance hung up the phone and got to his feet. He went to the railing, looking down to find that Dorneget was sitting alone in the bullpen.
"Agent Dorneget," he shouted down. The younger agent's head snapped up to look at him. "With me."
"Yes, sir," he said, jumping up and shoving some papers in his desk before grabbing his notebook and heading for the stairs. Vance was waited for him at the top.
"Has McGee filled you in on what he's found?" he asked.
"No, sir?"
"Carmichael is dead, along with some kid. There was a message left for us."
"Uh oh."
"They're mine now."
"Damn," Ned whispered as he looked towards the MTAC door. "We're going in there?" he asked.
"Yes, we are," Vance said, turning to scan himself in. "And we're not coming out until we have answers."
"Right behind you, sir," Ned said, straightening his spine and feeling determination flood his body.
Vance stopped before crossing the threshold into the room and turned to look at Ned. "Don't pull any punches."
Ned set his jaw and nodded. Game on.
********WDYG?********
Abby and Bishop were scanning through all of the photos that were on Piper's thumb drives and computer. There were thousands over the course of years' worth of trips. It was getting frustrating. They'd been looking for twenty minutes and Bishop already knew that they weren't going to get anywhere using the method they were trying.
"We need a way to narrow this down, Abby. What kind of programs do you have that could eliminate all of the photos that didn't have a face in them?"
Abby smiled at her. "I like the way you think! Let's use some facial recognition to narrow it down. What can you tell me about the way Devon looks?"
"African American male in his late 30's. Probably about 5' 10". When I saw him he was bald, clean shaven head with short, cropped beard. Muscular like he worked out, but not really body builder kind of muscular. Perfect smile."
"So, a total hottie?" Abby asked, smile never fading.
"Pretty much," Bishop said. "But a total hottie that could've turned on his partner, if he was indeed his partner."
"It must really suck to not be able to trust anyone you've trusted for years now. I mean, I've dealt with people on the team suddenly revealing that they've been working an undercover operation without me knowing for months, and that sucks. So, I totally get you there. When Tony was undercover I usually was able to sniff it out, or he told me so that I could help him with things, but it felt like the biggest betrayal when he fell in love undercover and didn't tell me. I mean, we tell each other everything!"
"Wait, Tony is Ned, Elly and Greg's boss, right?"
"Yeah," Abby said, looking from the computer screen to Bishop and back again as she programmed the software's search parameters.
"He fell in love with Jethro while undercover?"
"Oh! No. It's a very long story. Tony had always wanted Jethro. It's so weird to call him that. We just call him Gibbs. So, Tony had always been in love with Gibbs, but he didn't think he could ever have him. When he started falling for Jeanne, it was more like settling, and when he had to choose between her and the team, he chose the team. For obvious reasons. He was in love with the boss man. And even them revealing their relationship was kind of a shock to everyone. I mean, Tony had never told me that he was into guys, so that was a shock in and of itself, but- okay, not so much a shock, because he's like totally trendy and into designer clothes and stuff- but anyway. It's a long story. You should meet them if you get the chance. They're incredibly amazing, and you won't find a cuter couple."
"Are they cuter than Ned and Elly? Because they give Jake and I a run for our money."
"That is a pretty hard choice, but I'm still going to go with the Gibbses. Knowing their sad histories and how they finally came together gives it the power up over Ned and Elly, but I definitely know what you're talking about. If you think they're cute now, you should see them once the case is over. Actually, we're throwing the Gibbses a surprise post-wedding shower when they get home. You should come! They'd love you!"
Bishop was somewhat taken aback. She didn't know what to say to that kind of invitation. "Maybe?" she said. "Hopefully we know who the bad guys are by then and I'm able to get a good night's sleep."
"Oh, we'll know soon. I can feel it." Abby gestured with her hands in the air. "I know things seem scattered right now, but you can trust these guys to find the answers and put all the pieces together. They're like the masters of all puzzles. They won't give up on you."
Bishop gave Abby a genuine smile. "Thanks, Abby. I needed to hear that."
"Are you okay?" Abby asked, ignoring the computer now that it was running the search.
Bishop shrugged with one shoulder. "I think? I don't know. It's just that this is an awful situation, and I've lost my partner, my husband is hawking over me like he thinks I'm going to get snatched by NCIS forever, and yet… I can't help but feel like I'm finally doing something… right. Like working on this case is more my speed than analysis is." She shook her head and looked back at the screen in front of her. "Never mind. It's nothing. I'm just… stressed."
Abby blinked a couple of times. "Have you thought about becoming an agent?'
Bishop gave her that sad smile again. "I applied a long time ago for multiple agencies. I didn't get in anywhere. I was pigeonholed for the NSA. I could never figure out what I was doing wrong, or if it was because I'm so small that people thought I couldn't hold my own. Then I see Ziva, and I'm like, see! I could do it! It's just frustrating."
A plan started hatching in Abby's head. She knew Sommers was getting the boot soon, and she liked the idea of Bishop taking that spot. She was friendly and super smart. She was contemplating how to approach the topic when her phone chimed. She looked down to find the group chat window blinking and opened it up.
Tim: We found Carmichael. He's dead. His feet are missing. We also found the body of a 19 year old boy named Samuel Kroger from Newark NJ.
Elly: Carmichael had the words "They're Mine Now" carved into his back.
Ned: Just informed Melbourne in MTAC. The Director is pissed. He told me I'm not leaving the room until we have some answers. He's flooding the lines trying to get ahold of Director Spots. We're about to tear into Hadley.
Abby looked over at Bishop with a grimace, and then chewed her bottom lip. She looked back at her phone and joined the fray.
Abby: Bishop and I are using facial recognition to try to locate Devon in the photos we pulled from Mark's computer and USBs.
Greg: Who's Devon?
Abby: Someone Bishop thinks might have been partnered with Mark for his Caribbean adventures.
Greg: Got it. We're coming back with two bodies and a ton of evidence. Get ready.
Elly: Hey Abby? Do you think you could put a pot of coffee on? I'm dying.
Abby: Sure thing! Anything for you guys!
"What's going on?" Bishop asked. "That's not a good look. What did they find?"
Abby handed her phone to Bishop so she could read through the texts.
"Damn," she hissed when she read what they'd found. "Samuel Kroger?" She kept reading and her eyebrows rose when she saw that Vance was going to tear into Hadley. She wanted to be there, but she hadn't been invited. She handed the phone back to Abby with a grim expression.
"I'm going to put some coffee on. You want some?" Abby asked.
"Yes. God yes, please! You wouldn't have any snacks to go with it, would you?"
Abby held up a finger and retreated to her office. She came back with an extra-large box of Cracker Jacks and a bag of trail mix.
"You're just as amazing as everyone says, Abby! I haven't had Cracker Jacks in years." Abby handed the box to her with a grin. "Thank you!"
Bishop moved to the end of the counter and pulled her laptop out of her bag. She opened the box of caramel popcorn and started her research on who Samuel Kroger may be. Soon the smell of coffee was in the air and there was the soothing sound of both women clacking away on their keyboards to do their research, punctuated by some crunching.
Abby stopped for a minute and texted the group.
Abby: Did you really say that his feet are missing? Like, cut off, nowhere to be found, missing kinda missing?
Elly: Yup.
Abby: Is there a BOLO out for two runaway feet?
Greg: Heh, I see what you did there.
Jimmy: That's so bad it's hilarious!
Elly: You should've heard Ducky slip up and make a bad pun earlier. He asked where the feet had run off to.
Abby: NO HE DIDN'T!
Jimmy: Yes he did.
Ziva: I've alerted the LEOs. Everyone is on the lookout.
Elly: Why would they take the feet though?
Greg: Trophies?
Jimmy: Fetish?
Ziva: Confirmation, most likely
Abby: Why are we having this chat via text? Aren't you all together?
Greg: Yeah, but McGee is on the phone so we're staying quiet.
Abby: Oh, okay. Who's he on the phone with?
Elly: Fornell
Abby: Is he having any luck getting us that information he was scrounging?
Greg: Sounds like it, but maybe just chunks and pieces
Jimmy: Is that another mutilated body pun?
Greg: NO!
Elly: There may be someone on the radar for this Crow business, but I can't hear everything.
Abby: Okay. We'll see you soon. Coffee is on in the lab.
Elly: You're amazing Abby! 3
Abby put down her phone and went back to the search. She was tired, but this was what she lived for.
********WDYG?********
Tony woke up to Jethro nuzzling his jaw in his morning doziness. They were wrapped around one another thoroughly, and Tony smiled into the sunlight coming through the curtains. It felt so good to be so close to Jethro, with the plush bed and pillows around them and not a care in the world. He hummed to himself then turned to plant a kiss on Jethro's temple.
"Mornin'" Jethro said huskily.
"Good morning," Tony whispered back. Jethro snuggled in even closer and Tony smiled even brighter, holding him tightly against him. "Do we have to get up?" he asked.
"Nope," Jethro said softly.
"Good," Tony said, closing his eyes to simply relish their closeness. He fell asleep again to the sounds of Jethro's even breathing in his ear.
********WDYG?********
Hadley came up on the screen, and he looked worn for the wear.
Good, Ned thought. If we're not resting, he shouldn't be either.
"Good evening, gentlemen. Or is it technically morning yet?"
"Not 'til the sun rises," Vance said. "We need to talk."
"Conversations that begin with those words never go well," Hadley said with a sigh. "What's happened?"
"Another Marine is dead. We've located the site our men were tortured. A young man was found dead with them. A kid. He was only 19 years old."
"That's… well shit." Hadley rubbed his eyes, trying to get the exhaustion out.
"Yeah, it is. I need to know what your people are playing at. I can't get ahold of your director, and my people are over here chasing ghosts that I'm willing to bet are your people wearing sheets."
Hadley shook his head, then looked across the room. He got up from the line of sight of the camera, and then they heard the conference room door close. He held up a finger and watched a spot on the wall until a light came on. "Okay. We're locked down. What do you know?"
"No," Ned said, his voice like rough steel. "That's not how this goes. You tell us what you know. The things we should've known from the moment this investigation began."
Vance felt prickles of pride for the man standing next to him. Sometimes he had a hard time believing that he was the same man that stumbled his way up into the bullpen from the evidence lockers just a few months earlier. He reminded himself to thank Tony.
Hadley's expression was a little taken aback by Ned's tone, but Ned didn't care. He was tired, he was cranky, and he wanted this Crow bastard's head on a stake. It was coming between him and snuggles with his Elly. All niceties were out the window. Besides, the director had to play politics; he could get away with being a little gruffer. In this game of good cop/bad cop he was glad to take the bad cop role.
"We've known about Crow for a long time, but we didn't think much would ever come of him. The groups that he's been working with, The Children of the Prophet and Only, are both pretty disorganized. We didn't anticipate him having the power to organize their chaos so soon, but here we are. Both groups have gained ground in the past 24 hours. Only is out on the west coast, and in the past couple of days they've taken great pains to recruit. We're hearing reports of people literally being walked up to in the streets asking to convert and join their jihad. They're preparing for something, but we haven't figured out what."
"We're not seeing much about them through the message boards," Ned said, making sure not to look away from the screen at Vance and give away how much that news blindsided him.
"They're in a private chatroom using an app called Kik. It's kind of like the old AIM instant messenger. There's chatrooms and texting," Hadley explained, waving a hand in a mindless gesture as he did so.
"Yeah, I'm familiar with it. You can search for groups on there though. How are they getting away with being so open?"
"They simply don't care! They're reckless. And your Agent Critten told me about your theory that The Children of the Prophet are possibly actual children, and we went back over the analysis for the Only, and we think they may be, too. Same demographics. 16-24. Technologically immersed."
"Why didn't Bishop know about Only using Kik?" Ned asked.
"Mark knew, but Bishop's focus was specifically The Children on this assignment. There were other analysts who were working the Only route. Mark's job was to consolidate the information and he didn't feel the need to include them. Only didn't look like even a little threat until yesterday, and now we're tracking them down in the streets with the FBI. Haven't caught any of them yet, slippery bastards, but we're working on it."
"Mark knew about Only? I have a feeling there's a lot more to Mark than you've been honest with us about." Ned tilted his head to the side as he looked at Hadley with as much accusation as he injected into his statement, which was as sarcastic as he could politically get away with.
Hadley shook his head in frustration. "Not because I didn't want to!" he practically yelled as he slammed his open palm on the table. He took a deep breath. "I've been trying to track down Director Spots to get the clearance to share what I know, but I can't get in touch with him."
"Are you saying that your director is missing?" Vance asked, his voice blatant in his disbelief at the possibility.
"Not missing. Just… entangled in the fallout of what's happening. God… I can't tell you this. I shouldn't tell you this. But I'm gonna tell you this, because I'm alone here, and quite frankly, I need help." Hadley looked up into the camera and shook his head, then began to slowly tell them the story. "Okay. Mark wasn't just a Senior Analyst. Before he came to the NSA, he was CIA. It's why he was chosen for this special project. He got out when he got married and found out his wife was pregnant. He wasn't with them for very long, just about five years. Those were his younger days.
"These days, he's an analyst most of the time, but he will go a few times a year to connect with informants undercover in various tropical paradises. Very high-level informants from other governments. He meets with them at some point during his trip, but the rest of the time he's simply another middle-aged guy that likes to take beach trips in flipflops and straw hats and come home sunburnt like a lobster."
Ned glanced at Vance with an unconvinced raised eyebrow, then dropped his bomb.
"Who is Devon in relationship to Mark?"
The look on Hadley's face was incredulous. "How much do you people know?!" he exclaimed in exasperation. "What has Bishop told you?! How much does she know?!"
"We've all worked hard at trying to put the pieces together. Most of what you're saying we figured out together already, with the exception of what the beach trips were actually about. We knew that they weren't what they claimed to be. And we know that Devon is somehow involved. We think he's Mark's partner or handler."
Hadley scoffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, he is. He's CIA and he's Mark's handler when he goes on these trips. He arranges them."
"Is there a chance that he's Crow?" Vance asked, snatching the words out of Ned's mouth.
"It's possible, but not likely."
"Why not?"
"He already had access to a lot of the information they would've tortured our men for. He wouldn't have needed to go to those kinds of lengths."
"Forgive me, but I'm not very fond of the CIA right now," Ned said. "He's going to have to prove his innocence to me."
Hadley shrugged. "The CIA has their purpose. They're coordinating an exodus of all of the people that Mark may have given up under torture, and the rendezvous is in Spain."
"Why Spain?" Ned asked, simply curious.
"The Director has a second home there."
Ned tossed his head to the side casually as he notated the information. "Doesn't mean someone from their team isn't involved."
"Yeah, but if they were, they'd just take out the target Mark was going to meet themselves. Make Mark disappear on the trip. Easy enough to do. Whoever it was wouldn't have dumped him on the banks of the Potomac just to rub it in our faces. They'd be discreet. Maybe even frame Mark for the murder."
"This comes to our hardest question yet," Vance said. Hadley took another deep sigh, he knew what was coming. "Who was Mark going to meet?"
Hadley nodded. "Milaj Hahmar, Director of the Iraqi National Investigative Service. They've worked together before, and she trusted Mark. Requested him specifically for this conversation. She's leading a project of a special force of female spies being trained within the INIS. She personally recruits young women who are shown to be driven and bright who have little to no family ties. They were going to meet to negotiate an exchange of sorts. Uninterrupted flow of communication in exchange for the CIA training twenty brand new recruits."
Ned played it cool and calm, not batting an eye at the news. He hoped that the Director didn't either. If Hadley didn't know about the group of women that Davis was involved with relocating, he wasn't going to let him in on it. He'd been hiding plenty that they should've known from the beginning. Not only did it cause them a headache to figure out, but Ned felt really irked that Hadley had kept Bishop out of the loop. He realized that he'd become protective over her in the short time he'd known her, and he tried not to growl to himself.
"Now that we have this information we can start looking at new angles into how it means our dead Marines are tied in. It would've been very helpful to know earlier," Ned said, getting in his dig.
"I couldn't tell you. I still shouldn't have told you, but we're not getting anywhere with the investigation. Everyone around here is a suspect, and they're terrified of being accused, not to mention they're all suspicious of each other. There's a traitor in our house, and we have no idea who it is."
"You should've told Bishop," Ned said. "She's in danger, and she had the right to know."
"I knew she'd be safe with you guys. Safer than she would be here. It's a witch hunt right now, and I needed her focused on this case. She's honestly out best hope at finding out who Crow is. We have high hopes in her, and for damn good reasons. Mark was eventually going to bring her on board to the project. He really wanted to bring her on this trip with him, but we wouldn't let him. It's never been about not trusting her, it's been about her not trusting us."
"Trust is earned," Ned said, his voice ringing cold and clear.
"Not sure what else we could've done," Hadley said.
"Keeping secrets and lying to her probably didn't help," Vance said, cocking his head a little to the side.
"I guess everything is out in the open now."
"Don't worry agent Hadley," Vance said, staring into the eyes of the man on the screen. "We're not going to reveal our source. We're trying to get information out of the FBI as well. It could've just as easily come from them."
"Well…" Hadley said, eyebrows rising. "Probably not, because they don't really know everything either."
Ned and Vance looked at each other and Ned rolled his eyes. "Can you send us the list of agents that you've narrowed down your internal investigation to? All of the potential Crows?"
"I'll send them through to Ellie's email."
"We'll be in touch, Hadley," Vance said.
"Agent Dorneget?" he said, stopping Ned's note taking. "Can you tell Bishop that I'm sorry I couldn't tell her earlier and have her call me?"
Ned nodded, but couldn't bring himself to say anything as he ground his teeth.
"Thank you. And thank you both for taking her under your wing on this and keeping her safe."
"She's not only intelligent, but capable of handling herself. I think you underestimate her. She's keeping herself safe." Ned knew this was getting too personal and cut it off. "We'll be in touch if we have any further questions."
He took a deep breath once the screen had turned dark again, and then looked at Vance.
"This Bishop seems to be making a big impression on people around here," Vance said. "Between what I've heard from McGee and Critten, and now watching you defend her, vehemently I might add, I feel like I'm missing out on not getting to know her."
Ned nodded. "You should. She's pretty kickass."
Vance smiled and chuckled.
"We got what we needed." Ned was not only ready for what came next, but eager for it.
"Yeah, we did. How much do you want to bet that Milaj Hahmar's newest recruits are the women from the school that Melbourne's unit transferred?"
"I think we need to wake Melbourne up again," Ned said, a bit of evil glee to his voice at rousing the man who had been hiding critical information from them this whole time.
"I don't think he'll mind, do you?"
"Nope," Ned said. "Doug, can you please get Staff Sergeant Melbourne back on screen for us?"
"Just a moment," the older man said dozily, seeming to be completely unfazed by the information he was just privy to.
"You ready?" Vance asked.
Ned looked at him with an emphatic nod. "Oh, yeah."
********WDYG?********
Jethro woke up with a gasp. His hips jutted up off the bed, and he fell back down onto the pillows with a moan as Tony's warm mouth woke more than his body, but his every sense. "Damn…" he groaned.
Tony palmed Jethro's balls with his hand as he took him deep in his throat and felt pride at the sounds doing so elicited from his husband. He knew Jethro loved to be woken up like this, but he was such a morning person that Tony never woke up first, so it rarely happened. He was thrilled to be able to start the first full day of their honeymoon doing something special.
Jethro's fingers entwined themselves in Tony's hair, which allowed him to feel even more immersed in the sensation of the up and down push and pull Tony's lips and tongue were doing along his shaft. His hazy eyes opened halfway to watch Tony's eager bob and he chewed his lip as he thought about how his lover was using the opportunity to simply pleasure him, not himself. He'd make up for it later, obviously, but for the moment it was all about him and he felt enthralled in that gift.
He held off for as long as he could. Tony's technique was masterful though, and with being surprised from sleep he didn't have quite the wherewithal to make it last. He knew there would be plenty of other opportunities throughout the week, if not the day, so when he felt his orgasm descending on him he arched his back and Tony took him all the way to swallow the spurts of cum offered him. Their eyes met at one point and Jethro felt himself pulse again, making Tony grin around him.
Once Tony had licked Jethro clean, he crawled up to his husband's side, taking his limp hand in his as he bent over him to kiss him. Jethro kissed him back hungrily, eager to taste himself on Tony as if a marking of his territory. He's mine, world. You can't have him. All mine.
They eventually pulled back and Tony smiled down on him. "Good morning," he said softly. "For real this time."
"That makes it a very good morning," Jethro said with a smirk.
"I never get to do that! You always wake up before me. Or…"
"Or Amira wakes up before either of us."
"Exactly," Tony said, his expression saying enough for the both of them. "It's evil. The mornings we need her to wake up, she won't. The mornings we don't want her to wake up, she's up at the crack of dawn."
"Yeah, but you love watching cartoons with her on Saturday mornings while I cook breakfast," Jethro said with a smirk.
"Okay," Tony said, "That may be true, but that's not the point. The point it, morning wood head isn't usually an option."
"What can I do for you?" Jethro asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You can make it up to me later. I want to get to the bakery before all the good stuff is gone! It's after 10."
Jethro chuckled and reached up to pull Tony's head down for another kiss. It was sweet, and tender, and full of joyful love. They pulled part of the way back and looked into each other's eyes. Tony's forehead fell against Jethro's and they stayed like that for a moment.
"I don't think I could be any happier right now," Tony said softly.
"Me too."
Tony lowered himself so that he was laying halfway on top of Jethro. He wrapped his arms around him, and Jethro pulled Tony close and held him back. "We can do crostata tomorrow. I just want to stay like this until we want to get up. Nothing rushing us, no expectations. Just me, you, and this feeling."
"I am perfectly happy with that," Jethro said, kissing Tony's head and then resting his chin against it as they held each other in the quiet morning bliss.