I'm so excited about this chapter. I'm sorry it took so long. Just a reminder that when you see text in [brackets] that's italicized it means that the speaker is speaking in Arabic. You'll have to tell me if you like it. I'm all nervous about it!
Chapter 9
Sommers tossed his keys on the kitchen table and headed for his room. He was dead on his feet and his head was pounding. He felt stupid. He didn't know why he'd just told Ziva all of that. He shook his head at himself as he undressed quickly, and then tumbled into his bed, phone in hand. He groaned at himself in frustration and then ran his free hand down his face. He sighed heavily and turned to plug his phone in next to his bed and set his alarm. Three hours of sleep was going to go by in the blink of an eye at this point. He needed to let himself sink down into it, but his mind was racing.
His dad has been his hero as a kid. All he'd ever wanted to do was to make him proud. And Aaron always did everything better than him. It wasn't that he was a bad kid or a dumb kid. He did well. He just didn't meet the same standards that Aaron met. And he loved his brother, and his dad, but they had a bond that he was never offered. His mom had cheated on his dad when they were younger, and his dad had gotten custody of them in the divorce. He'd sacrificed a lot to raise them. Being a single military father was hard, and both he and Aaron tried their best to make it easy on him. It didn't always work out, but they tried.
His dad never seemed to understand him though.
There were days where he felt like he'd never make him happy, and those days caused him so much depression that he withdrew from the world. He'd be moody for days, hiding in his room with his computer and music blaring. His girlfriend would try to console him, try to talk him up, but he knew that he was just mediocre. His dad didn't hate him, he just didn't love him as much as Aaron either.
At least he didn't until he became a federal agent.
Now his dad called often to see how he was doing and ask him about work. He wanted to know if he'd been on any serious cases, or any cases that had to do with someone Aaron might know. When he was a floater agent, just going on protection details, he'd get to tell him that he was protecting some high-profile people, but he couldn't disclose who they were. That sounded mysterious and important enough that his father approved. He was even prouder of him though when he told him he'd been selected to be a part of the Major Case Response Team. If he was kicked off the team his dad would be so disappointed in him.
He thought about what Ziva had said in the car that morning. His teammates annoyed him. Their big happy family made him gag at the content little perfect vibe they gave off. But Ziva's story about her background had him thinking that maybe there was more to them than they seemed. He knew she was from Israel, but he didn't know that her dad was head of Mossad. That was pretty intense shit. And the thought that she'd leave that behind to be a part of this team piqued his interest.
And what was the deal with the two GIbbses? He shook his head and rolled his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling in the morning light. Talk about the perfect little family. They both had their teams and their little girl and were off on their honeymoon having the perfect life. He couldn't imagine either of them ever understanding the inadequate feeling he constantly felt.
He got an awkward feeling in his stomach at the memory of Ziva making him interact with the team in the lab. They all looked at him like he had three heads; like they forgot he even existed. A little voice inside of him said that he couldn't blame them. He tried to stamp it out, but Ziva's condemnation of his character in the car started playing ultra-loud over and over again in his head.
"I still can't believe she called me a dick," he whispered to himself. He was suddenly assaulted with all of the examples over the past ten days where he'd been just that, and he groaned loudly, rolling over and pounding his pillow. "Damn it!" He flung himself over on his back in frustration. "Yes, I can."
As he laid there thinking an even more awkwardly painful memory came back to him. He and his high school girlfriend had dated for over two years and broke up when they went off to school because they knew they'd be too far away from each other to keep up a relationship. He'd totally and completely loved her, but he didn't want to stand in the way of her dreams. She had the chance to go to school at Harvard, and he wasn't going to be the thing that held her back. So, he told her to go.
It killed him inside. He became cynical of relationships when he found out that she was already dating someone new two months later. He started a series of college flings and one-night stands that was epic even for a fraternity brother. He changed a lot that year. He knew it. And when he ran into Anna the next summer when they were both home, they decided to hang out. An hour into the evening she got up to leave, telling him that she didn't know who he was anymore, and that she didn't like who he'd become. She had some choice words that hurt a lot more than being called a dick, especially coming from her. He particularly felt the sting of "egotistical douchebag".
He sat up and turned so his feet were on the floor. He bent over, resting his elbows on his knees as his hands went to his face and sat like that a moment. Agent Parke's verbal takedown of him on Friday after he opened his big mouth was very reminiscent of that night. He heard his own whiny words over and over again in his head like a shameful round, the damning syllables overlapping each other until they threatened to pull him apart. He didn't know why he'd said it. He just thought that when he made it to a team he'd finally feel at ease with this job. And he didn't. What was he going to tell his dad when he called to ask about his week? Oh, I spent the whole week typing up cold cases? He couldn't tell him that.
Now here they were in the middle of what was actually a very interesting and high stakes case and he felt stupider than ever for his spouting off in the meeting. Especially since he knew he'd inadvertently attacked the relationship of the two team managers, and he knew more than anything both teams were for some reason unquestionably loyal to them and were heavily invested in that relationship. Hell, Parke had even gone so far as to call him homophobic. And he really had never considered himself homophobic. He just wasn't used to being around any gay people. At least not knowingly, which he had found out very quickly once part of the team was a surprising distinction. There were suddenly all sorts of gay and bisexual people at the office, and he'd never noticed it before.
He couldn't let them kick him off the team though. His dad's disappointment would devastate him more than anything. So, he was going to have to do what Ziva had told him to do and make nice with these people. Ziva said they'd been supportive of her. He didn't want them all into his business like that.
That's because you're ashamed of your business, that voice inside of him said. He waved his hand in front of his face like swatting a fly in an attempt to shut the voice up. He felt the bitter anger building up inside of him. "Shut up," he said aloud. "Fuck off and go to hell."
He couldn't shake the guilt that was suddenly consuming him of every snide comment he'd made to these people, and all of the bullshit he'd gotten into at the office over the past couple of years. He shook his head and laid back down, determined to go to sleep. He laid there for twenty minutes as he thought about all of the seriously dickish things he'd done since he came on board. He wasn't liking what he was seeing. When he finally fell asleep, it was fitful and restless.
********WDYG?*********
Parke had come back to the bullpen looking like death worn over.
"Hey man, what's wrong?" Elly asked, taking his expression in with concern.
"It's Tiffany. She's not feeling well and I'm here and not there, and I'm just so damn frustrated."
"That sucks. What's going on?"
"Well you know that she's on bedrest for the remainder of her pregnancy. She can't go further than around the apartment, and she's going stir crazy."
"Which she in turn takes out on you," Elly said, understanding what was happening.
Greg sighed. "Yeah."
They sat in silence for a minute, then Elly had an idea. "Why don't you see if Breena can go check on her? I mean, Jimmy's here anyway. Maybe she's available."
Greg perked up at the idea. "Great idea! I'll run down and check with Jimmy about it."
"Cool," Elly said with a smile. "Bishop emailed us the list of potential Crows from the NSA. We're just going through them. They'll be here when you get back."
"I'll hurry," Greg said, taking off for the bullpen.
Elly felt like he'd helped, and that was the first time all day he'd felt like he had accomplished something. He shook his head and started to look through the names of the NSA staff that were in the spreadsheet. There were over 50 of them. He tried to think of a plan of attack and tapped his fingers on the top of his desk. He hadn't had to tackle a whole list of people like this since his days in the financial task force. Since he'd come to NCIS, even when he was in the basement, he had tackled only a few people's bios at a time.
He looked through a few folders on his computer and then smiled. "Aha! There you are! Suckah! Trying to hide from me in my own folders. I knew I still had you," he said softly to himself. He reached down into the inside pocket of his messenger bag and pulled out his iPod. He knew the tech was becoming outdated, but it was just used to store his music these days and couldn't imagine giving up the storage on it to a microSD card in his phone. He'd have to cut his track list down substantially. He slipped the headphones in his ears and turned the small device on, cranking up his tunes, and got to work.
The program had an algorithm in it to take each name and run it through a series of searches. It just needed to be tweaked to run the searches through the NCIS databases rather than the Minnesota State Sherriff's office databases. Ten minutes later and he had the edits done. He had updated the databases and added a couple of new ones to cover Interpol and ensure that no one on the list had been skipping the country on a regular basis and causing havoc elsewhere.
He immediately realized that he'd underestimated how often NSA staff travelled. He raised an eyebrow at how often each name pinged the travel notifiers but didn't see any associated incidents with it. Of course, it was going to take a long time for the program to search for any correlating news articles, BOLOs, and case files associated with the words "murder" and "torture". He monitored the results closely, picking and choosing different ones to look deeper into on a separate program. It was ridiculously slow because of how much memory and data stream his priority program was sucking up, but he worked through it. He wanted to be home with Ned, and he wasn't going to be until he found something, so this was his highest priority.
********WDYG?********
Ziva got home and smiled at Dion as she came through the door to find him drinking a mug of coffee in the kitchen of their apartment.
"Ziva!" he greeted with a bright smile. "I didn't expect you to make it home before I left, beautiful! What a great surprise." She came up to him and he sat his coffee down to bend and kiss her lightly, wrapping his arms around her and feeling her hug him back.
"It is a short relief. I will need to be back in by 1300."
Dion nodded his understanding. "I should let you sleep then, no?"
Ziva nodded. "Unfortunately. Is everything going well?"
"Very," he said. "What about you? How is the case?"
"It is very distorted. We are missing a large piece of the puzzle. We can't seem to put our finger on it, but half of the team is going to continue to work while the other half sleeps and bathes, and then switch out."
"I am glad that you get some time to rest. I shall let you get to it," he said. Ziva didn't let him go for a moment, instead resting her head on his shoulder. "Unless you'd rather me make you something for breakfast quickly?" he tempted her, getting the feeling that she was some kind of weary.
She simply held him tighter, and he held her back, kissing the top of her head. "What is wrong my love?" he asked softly.
She sighed. "This case is ridiculous, but that's not really it. I just had a talk with Sommers, the agent I am supposed to be partnering with now, and I just don't know if I am ever going to get through to him."
Dion's hair smoothed Ziva's hair, silently urging her to continue. She pulled back just enough to look up at Dion's eyes.
"He said some things that reminded me too much of myself. He is in this line of work for the wrong reasons. He's doing it for his father's approval." She shook her head and looked down at Dion's tie for a minute, taking in the pattern, then looking back up. "I was once in those shoes. I know I acted differently because of who I had to be in that role. Colder, impersonal… I mentioned my past, and he was surprised. He did not know it. And there's a part of me that really liked that, and a part of me that felt sad. I have taken on a new identity by being a part of this team. I am very happy with that identity, but it reminds me that my father may not be as proud of me as he could have been, and that's…"
"That's his stupidity," Dion said with a quiet edge. "If he sees the intelligent, talented, beautiful, loving woman that you are, and for some reason is not incredibly proud of you, then he is an idiot."
Ziva smiled up at him, taken aback by the intensity of his response. She loved that Dion was a quietly passionate man. It showed in his words, but even more so in the expression on his face. She reached up on tiptoes to kiss him gently. "Thank you," she said.
"It is his loss, but not one he hasn't earned," Dion said, pushing her hair behind her ear.
Ziva nodded. "I think maybe some English muffins with fruit and preserves may do the trick."
Dion chuckled as he bent to kiss her forehead. "For you my love, anything."
********WDYG?********
Tim was incredibly relieved to be able to run some search protocols on their list of suspects. He knew that Elly was probably going to go above and beyond across the bullpen, but he didn't care. Just the simple task of trying to come up with something through his preferred means was refreshing and comfortable, which was something he certainly hadn't been for the past 48 hours.
"Hey, Elly!" He called.
"Yeah? What's up?" Elly called back.
"What kinds of searches are you running?" he asked loudly to be heard over the divider.
"I've actually pulled my old Minnesota financial package out and am running it through for financial flags on travel costs and deposits, as well as Interpol hits. Cross referencing with the words "murder" and "torture". What are you running?"
"I haven't started yet, but I think it's going to be property and international bank accounts. Probably cross reference BMV and toll road records for anything showing frequent trips to New York."
"Want me to expand my search for trips to the west coast?" Elly asked. "In case there's any involvement with Only?"
"That would be smart," Tim said. "What financials are you pinging for?"
"Rental cars, pawns, gun stores, large purchases, plane tickets, airport purchases, train tickets, deposits over $2500 in the past year, boat purchases, and travel agencies, though I wouldn't expect them to use a travel agency for this kind of trip."
"Yeah, but the whole internet booking thing…" Tim said, typing away at his computer.
"Yeah, the travel agency merchant code and whatnot. I don't know how they get away with that. They have their own category."
"Don't get me started!" Tim said. "I'll see if any of them have bought any property that could be used to store anything. I have a bad feeling about this."
"Yeah, me too," Elly said.
Tim went back to his searches, his fingers flying as his brain took in what passed across the screen more quickly than he could fully process, but knowing the steps to get his searches started so well that he didn't need to. It was all robotic. He fell into it like he was starting to beat his drum in time with his computer's symphony. It made sense to him. It worked.
Greg came back up and joined them. He'd gotten Jimmy's okay to call Breena over to help with Tiff and she jumped on the chance. It was a big relief, and an even bigger relief when Tiffany loved the idea. His nerves calmed considerably.
He sat at his desk and opened up the file. There was a list of potential culprits, and he wasn't really sure what to do with them. He was a little lost. He knew Elly and Tim would be doing the heavy lifting on this. He wasn't good at the technical searches, and they excelled at it. He looked up at Tony's desk and wondered when Bishop would be back. He could ask her details about each one. He had a series of questions he'd like to pose to each of these people and about them.
He opened a blank document and started typing them out so that when she got up there they could do a quick questionnaire for big red flags, and if those were tripped there were qualifying questions underneath them. That took about twenty minutes, then he thought about the information he needed and how to ask for it.
"So, Elly," he started. "What do you think the chances are that Hadley would be willing to give me access to these folks' personnel files and project history?"
Elly looked at him and shrugged. "We'll only know if we ask, right?" he asked. "What are you thinking?"
"You know the search program you built to scan files for certain keywords for the database project? I'd like to sick that on them. I have a few words in mind, and I'd like to see what I can unearth."
Elly nodded and pulled his cell phone out. "Hey, Hadley," he said almost cheerfully. "Yeah! We got 'em. Thanks for that! I was just talking with Parke and he was wondering what it would take to get his hands on the files for your people."
There were a few moments of silence on their end as Hadley responded. "Well, like their project histories, their personnel records, maybe psych evals, that kind of thing. He's a profiler," he finally admitted. "He and Agent Dorneget have been profiling Crow from the beginning of this case, and he has some things he wants to look for."
Another couple of moments of silence. "I think that's completely fair," he said, nodding at Greg. "Great! I'll tell him to look for your email. Thanks Hadley!" Elly hung up with a bright smile. "You'll have an email with a link to give you access to some things shortly. However, you and Ned are the only ones who are allowed to have access to the files. You can share information you find, but you can't let anyone else access the databases."
"Beautiful!" Greg said with a grin. "That will help a lot."
He waited as he stared at his inbox until the new mail notification popped up. He got into the email and followed the instructions to the employee files. There was much more information than he thought he'd have access to, but it had already apparently been pulled together by their teams, and there were people analyzing it from the NSA.
He tried to narrow his searches to things that they wouldn't be looking for, taking his psychologist hat and putting it on tightly, honing his focus on the sadistic trademarks they'd seen so far. He didn't want to scare his team, but Ned had eluded to it already. This Crow guy sounded as evil as they come. Demented, and from what they'd seen in that warehouse, enjoyed his work a little too much.
But it also seemed like he wanted to be caught. He was interacting directly with the teams, leaving them the message on the body, leaving the bodies on the river's bank, and carving the symbol into their backs to mark his kills. He noticed that Carmichael didn't have that. Was it sloppy, or was it intentional? And where in the hell were the guy's feet?
He prepared himself, because he knew these searches were going to take him to a rather cynical place, but he also knew it was completely necessary. He put his headphones in his ears and dug in with determination.
********WDYG?********
Jethro sat down his cup of coffee, staring back at Tony over their empty plates. The meal was delicious. They'd finished it with tiramisu and cups of coffee to polish it off. His soft smile and happy eyes made Tony smile back as he leaned forward, elbows on the table and his mug in both hands.
"It's a gorgeous day. I'm excited to go explore the market. We should go soon though before it starts wrapping up. Street vendors are closed by sunset."
Jethro nodded and motioned for the check as their waiter came by. Tony smiled up at the young woman, responding to her questions about whether their meal was satisfactory. Jethro watched him intensely. He loved the way the Italian language sounded coming from Tony's mouth. It sent a slight warmth through him. When Tony looked back at Jethro he saw the look in his eyes.
"Hold that thought cowboy," he said with a wink.
"I'm holding it," Jethro said calmly. "For now."
Tony cocked a playful eyebrow at him but was interrupted by the waitress bringing their check. Tony handed her cash for their meal, telling her to keep the change, and then motioned for Jethro to join him. They got up and made their way towards the door.
Once outside Tony looked around getting his bearings. The historical architecture surrounding him was like stepping back in time. The colorful buildings, built long ago, were inviting and warm. The streets were roughly cobbled. There was a smell of saltwater on the breeze and his blood sang the song of his history. He breathed deeply, then Jethro took his hand as he leaned into him from the side, resting his chin on Tony's shoulder while talking softly in his ear.
"So glad I'm here with you," he said. Tony turned to him and smiled at the affection.
"Likewise, Jethro." Jethro stood up straight again, and Tony leaned in for a quick peck on the lips, then turned to guide Jethro down the road with a smile so bright he could feel his cheeks ache.
They soon came to the Napoli Mercato. Awnings stretched out over the sidewalks and cobblestone to provide shelter to those selling their wares and goodies. Tony was both glad and disappointed that he was so full. They'd have to come back down this way again before they left just to taste test everything from the local vendors.
Tony found a silk scarf that he thought Ziva would like, and Jethro found a shop that sold handmade figurines and nativity scenes and spent time with Tony's help picking one out for Abby. Other than the creepy crypt, the nativities were another thing she'd mentioned. Jethro was smart enough to take the hint and they'd gotten a small one for her.
"I was thinking I'd get McGee a belt when we go to the leather shop. He's got an appreciation for the finer things. I have no idea what to get the guys though, and I wanted to find something while we were here to give Elly and Ned for their wedding. Or at least look for something. I just can't see myself getting them something like a popcorn maker or whatever."
Jethro snickered. "If you really want to surprise them you can get them their own set of cuffs from the leather shop."
Tony's jaw dropped and Jethro broke out laughing. Tony turned bright red and shook his head. "You did not just say that!" he exclaimed.
"I think I did," Jethro said, trying to rein in his laughter as they stood in the middle of the market.
"I never needed the visual I just got in my head at the thought of that. Never. You'll pay for that. Anyway, I'm pretty sure that would be a better gift for Abby than Ned and Elly."
Jethro raised an eyebrow at him. "Should I take the nativity back?" he asked, only making Tony laugh again. He looped his arm in Jethro's and they walked arm-in-arm down the narrow street together.
"I'd already planned on getting her a collar while we were there," Tony said casually as they strolled along. "Or at least keeping my eyes open for one that would be calm enough to wear at work."
Jethro groaned. "I did not need to think about Abby's collars being a sexual thing with McGee… oh god…" He looked at Tony and glared slightly. "That was revenge, wasn't it?"
Tony shook his head no. "No, just general conversation. Our little goth wears collars to work all the time. To think that she and McGee aren't… well that's just the definition of denial."
Jethro groaned again and sighed as he shook his head and decided there was a topic change in their near future. "How about some coffee?" he asked, seeing a café and the much needed out.
"I could do some espresso," Tony said with a raised eyebrow. They let go of each other's arms and moved towards the small shop. They entered and took in the smells. There were homemade baked confections and a menu of coffee creations written in chalk on the wall. "Do you trust me?"
"Yeah," Jethro said, watching as Tony browsed the menu spread out before them.
"Then I'm ordering for you," Tony said with a smirk.
Jethro watched Tony order their drinks, and then watched them being made. It was only then that he noticed that there were liquor bottles behind the counter as well as the coffee grinders and machines. They sat at a small table, and Jethro raised an eyebrow at him.
"Just a little… punch," Tony said with a smile. "Caffe corretto," he explained, "is espresso with a shot. Good way to unwind. Meant to be sipped."
Jethro smirked at him. A young brunette woman came over with a tray and four drinks on it. She sat down two small espresso glasses in front of each man. "Correttos, shakerato, e caffe grande."
Tony thanked her, and then explained the other two drinks. "Iced espresso," he said pointing to his tall glass. "Regular coffee." He nodded towards Jethro's mug.
Jethro picked up the small glass of espresso and sniffed it. "Cognac?" he asked, a raised eyebrow. Tony smiled and nodded as he flashed back to the drinking game their team and company had played around the table at Dion's restaurant months before. Jethro's knowledge of liquors was extensive, and it always amazed him that with such a broad spectrum of tastes he stuck to cheap bourbon.
Tony sipped at each drink as they sat and took in the atmosphere. It was very quiet and peaceful, but not stifled. There was a small group of friends laughing at a table twenty feet away across the shop, and their tempered but joyful demeanor echoed what Tony was feeling. He noticed that Jethro was staring at him with a soft smile. "What?" he asked, smiling back.
"Thinking about a time not even a year ago when I sat in the bullpen watching you drink your coffee I brought you out of the corner of my eye as we worked on paperwork and thinking about how nice it was. How familiar. Just me, you, our work. It was comfortable. You can both energize me and comfort me at the same time. It's…"
"Mutual," Tony said as Jethro tried to find his word. "Mutual, and amazing. Incredible. Beautiful even."
Jethro cocked his head a little to the side and looked into Tony's green eyes. "Beautiful."
Tony blinked shyly as he realized Jethro meant more than the feeling was beautiful. It was oddly sweet, and he sipped his shakerato as he smiled. When he sat the glass back down, he cleared his throat and looked back up into Jethro's blue eyes that were taking him in thoughtfully.
"I really am a lucky bastard," Jethro said softly.
Tony shook his head. "Nope. I'm the lucky one." This was a long-fought battle between them, the parry of phrases that they always came back to, neither willing to budge on who was luckiest between them to have found themselves in their position. The past couple of months found them quietly exchanging those words time and time again, always in a personal moment that no one could take from them.
"Whichever," Jethro said, picking up his small clear glass with coffee and cognac and raising it as a toast. "May we continue to be the two luckiest bastards in the world."
"Here, here," Tony said with a smile, raising his glass to clink against Jethro's. They took drinks from their glasses and smiled at each other happily.
*********WDYG?********
Bishop woke up on Abby's futon to the older woman shaking her lightly. "Ellie?" Abby said softly.
"Hmmm?" she asked, getting her bearings.
"You told me to wake you up in an hour. It's been an hour."
Ellie sighed as she sat up, covering her mouth as it gaped with a yawn.
"Thanks, Abby."
"Sure," she said.
"Did you have any luck finding anything?" Bishop asked.
"Yeah, but you're not going to like it."
"Have you told the guys yet?" Bishop got to her feet and followed Abby into the lab.
"I figured you could tell them. I've been going through the photos of the various footprints in the blood, and there are five distinct footprints."
"Five?" Bishop asked, wondering about the significance of that.
"Mark's, Davis', and three others, one of which I assume is Carmichael's."
"Okay? We already knew that there were other people in the room. Kroger was there, so there was probably someone else there, too."
"But Kroger doesn't have any blood on his shoes. Examining the blood pool and the pattern of the footprints we can see that there's two particular sets that have a much higher print ratio than the others. I think we have two people doing the torturing."
Bishop squinted her eyes at the screen, then up at Abby. "That… sucks."
"This means that either Crow has another adult working with him, or one of these… kids… is getting trained in the fine arts of torture techniques," Abby said, taking it much harder than Bishop expected. "I mean, do you know how evil that is?! And what if it's one of the really young kids? He's dangerous, Ellie! If our teams confront them they may have to take out a kid! That's like, really, really bad!"
Abby paced back and forth for a moment while looking at the ground as she talked.
"And then an alert came in that an FBI agent is in critical condition after one of the kids in the Only group shot him after they tried to arrest him in California. That's like a big gigantic warning from the Universe that things are out of control! They need to be careful."
Bishop started to see the core of Abby's concern. She tried to imagine what each person she'd met on this case so far would do if confronted with a kid pointing a weapon at them. The various results rushed through her head, and none of them were good. She needed to bring it up.
"Thanks, Abby. I'll talk to them. Anything else?"
"Ducky said that the words carved into Carmichael's back were done post mortem. The feet… weren't." Abby twisted her fingers as she grimaced and turned her feet inward slightly as she rose up on tiptoes and came back down.
"Oh, that's bad. And gross. Poor guy." Bishop sighed and grimaced at Abby.
"We're looking at the same knife used for all of the carvings, but the feet were done with something else. It looks like it was started with the same blade, but it was finished with something much larger with a serrated blade, large tooth. Large chef's knife or handsaw."
"Lovely," Bishop said, tilting her head as her eyebrows rose while squinting.
"That's all we have so far," Abby said.
"Let's hope anything else you find isn't as gruesome."
Abby just nodded as Bishop turned to head out to the elevator. She felt rumpled and she wanted a shower, but she felt like they were getting closer and closer to their prey. She couldn't stop now.
She headed upstairs and made her way to the desk she'd been using. Elly and Greg both took headphones out of their ears to greet her. She stood at the desk and turned to Tim.
"Abby found some things," she said, chewing on her lower lip.
"Oh?" Tim said, getting up to move behind Gibbs' desk and be closer to them.
"According to Ducky the feet were cut off before Carmichael died, but the message was carved into him after he died."
"Oh god," Elly said with a disgusted face. Greg hissed and they exchanged a look.
"That's just fucked up," Greg said, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms after dropping his pen on his desk.
"Yeah, well it gets worse," she said grimly.
"How?" Tim asked incredulously but quietly.
"Abby said that the footprint pattern in the blood indicates that there were two people doing the torturing."
"Huh?" Elly asked, cocking his head in disbelief, his mouth hanging open.
"And if there's a second person, there's a good chance it's one of the kids. Apparently, a kid in Only shot an FBI agent today. She's worried with their violence levels that if you encounter them in the field you may find yourselves with the possibility of shooting a child."
Greg watched Tim and Elly's expressions to see what they were feeling about that. The way they had both frozen told him what he needed to know. He spoke up. "I don't know if I can do that," he said. "If they appear really young… I might not be able to take the shot. Not right now with everything going on with my own baby."
Greg swallowed and all of them looked at him. "I need to disclose that. I…" He shook his head and swallowed, but he knew he was doing the right thing by telling them.
"I don't know if any of us can, Greg," Tim said. "I think we'd all have a hard time with that."
"I don't want Ned put in that position," Elly said, looking between them. "I'd rather do it myself than have him deal with that."
Something in Bishop broke at hearing his voice saying those words. She could feel the love and protectiveness coming from him, and it amazed her. She couldn't imagine feeling that kind of love from someone. The kind of love where they'd be willing to take out a kid if necessary. She knew Jake had her back, but there were certain lines you just didn't cross, even in their fields. Those that had to deal with the death of a child at their hands in law enforcement often didn't make it back to the field, and if they did it was after incredibly extensive counseling.
"We just have to keep in mind that this may be someone young, but they have been a part of unspeakable acts of torture," Tim said quietly. "They helped cut off a man's feet, slice up another man, beat and broke a Marine, and god only knows what else."
"We need to only send people out to arrest them that feel like they can handle this possibility," Greg said calmly. "I know I can't. You two may be able to. I can stay back with Ned and use coms or something to help profile them, but I don't know if we should go out there. Ned just had to take his first life a couple of months ago. He shouldn't be up against this so soon. And I don't know if Sommers should be in that position either. I don't know him well enough to know which way he'd go on this, and we can't take the chances that anyone would freeze up in that moment."
"I'll talk to Sommers and Ziva about it when they get back. They're my team anyway. My responsibility as their SFA to know their limits. I know what Ziva's capable of. The fallout is one thing, but I agree that we should only take people into the field on this one who can deal with the situation in the moment."
"Please don't bring it up to Ned," Elly said. "I don't want him fighting me on this decision. It's both personal and professional. To say anything different would be a lie, but I don't care. I need him in one piece, and I won't be able to focus in the field if I'm worried about him and the possibility of one of us having to shoot a kid."
Tim nodded slowly. "I think I can make that work."
"Thank you," Elly said with a relieved sigh.
"I think I'm going to run downstairs and take a nap for an hour or so while my searches run. I'll set them to ping you if anything catches," he said looking at Elly.
"Sounds good," Elly said. The five of them exchanged looks, and then got back to work. Elly and Greg started explaining what they were looking for to Bishop, and she started looking through the lists. She was able to start crossing off names for them right away.
"Looking at this list I can see why everyone was at each other's throats at the NSA," she said lost in thought as she read over it. "We've profiled it down to being a man," she said. "With what we've seen I'd say that our profile is correct. We can eliminate fifteen of these names."
"We noticed that, too," Greg said.
"We put them at the bottom of the priority lists for the searches we're running and the files we're going through," Elly confirmed.
"What files?" Bishop asked, looking up from the list.
"Hadley gave me access to various files from the NSA with the explicit instructions that only Ned and I are to have access to them," Greg said. "But I have a series of questions I'd like to ask you about the people on your list. You probably won't know half of them, but let's see what we can dredge up, shall we?"
"Yeah, let's do it," she said.
They spent the next three hours asking each other questions and running searches until they were brain fried, and regretfully they hadn't gotten anywhere. They couldn't cross off too many more people, and each person they investigated together as a group took at least fifteen minutes. They weren't making any headway.
Bishop got a text from Jake and she sighed.
- I was recalled to DC. I guess they think it's too dangerous in L.A. right now with everything going on.
- - Well I think what we're dealing with is a little more important than the wiretapping case.
- That was my argument before they sent me out there. I didn't want to be away from you while we're dealing with all of this.
- -We? I can handle it myself. Did you get yourself sent home so that you could get involved in this case?
- I just wanted to be close in case you needed the support. This is big stuff, Ellie! Your name is on a list of people that could be a mole in the agency! I don't know how to feel about this. I just want to help.
Bishop growled and dropped her phone on the desk.
"What?" Elly asked.
"Jake! He got himself sent home from his wiretapping case in L.A. to butt into this investigation! He can't handle that I might be happier working with another organization for even one weekend! It's like he's terrified that I'm going to want to leave the NSA or something!"
The two men on their side of the bullpen froze in what they were doing, the only thing moving their eyes as they gave each other a brief glance and then stared at Bishop.
"What?" she asked.
Both men looked a little hesitant to answer, shrugging and nodding their heads a little. "It's just that from what you've said, you don't sound very happy there," Greg said tentatively.
"Annnnnnd…" Elly drew out, glancing at Greg for a moment before looking back at Bishop. "You really do fit in here."
Bishop sighed. She rested her head in her hands as her elbows landed on Tony's desk in front of her. "I know." She shook her head and looked up at the two of them. "Losing Mark is devastating, and I know it's going to hit me hard later, but right now, doing this, a real investigation, is more invigorating and simply right, ya know?"
Both men nodded and provided sympathetic looks. "I definitely know. I used to be a part of the tech team here, and before that on a finance taskforce. I'd done a little beat cop work, but this stuff is a whole other level, and it's the level I belong on."
"And I used to do inmate profiling for the prison system in California before I came here. It was a big jump, but I haven't regretted it for a moment," Greg said.
Bishop shook her head again then spoke quietly. "I don't know if we'd survive it if I left. So much of our relationship has become about our mutual work-lives. We used to try to keep them separated, and then about two years ago Jake's security clearance was raised to match mine, which meant we could talk about our projects with one another. It was like suddenly everything was better. If we don't work together I'm afraid that we're going to come apart at the seams. We're stronger now than we've ever been."
"That sucks," Elly said sadly.
"You know, Ellie," Greg said softly, "that a relationship based on something that can be taken away so easily, that can change literally overnight, isn't a healthy relationship. You need to get back to the roots of why you fell in love with each other. You also need to have your autonomy from one another."
"We both have friends and interests outside of work and we're both very independent outside of work. But those three years where my clearance just kept going up a level higher than his were frustrating. He could tell me about his work, but I couldn't tell him about mine, and I guess that mutual exchange and his involvement with my world is important to him. I don't really know what that's like because he was always able to tell me about his cases and projects. I don't know. Let's table this discussion for after we catch Crow."
"Fair enough," Greg said.
"Definitely coming back to it though," Elly said with a crooked smile. "This sounds like something you need to talk though, and if Sommers gets fired like he's slated to next week… well we may need a new agent to fill that spot."
Bishop looked back up and blinked blankly at him. "Uh- I-" Her jaw dropped as she looked back and forth between Greg and then back at Elly.
"We'll talk about it later," Greg said with a smirk and a glance at Elly.
Bishop only nodded.
********WDYG?********
Ned strolled into the bullpen. He had a tray of coffee cups for anyone who needed a good jolt. He'd sprung for the good stuff, loaded with caffeine. His nap was worthless without Elly there. They'd gotten so used to sleeping next to one another that he wasn't sure if he'd ever have a good night's sleep without the other man for the rest of his life. His shower felt wonderful though and wearing clean clothes was a gift he didn't know he'd wanted so badly.
"Oh, yes please!" Bishop said when she looked up and saw Ned with the tray. "Please, please, please!" She was reaching out her hands already as Ned chuckled and came around the side of the desk to her. She grabbed a cup and lowered it to her nose to take a deep inhale with her eyes closed.
"Do I get one?" Elly asked.
"No. You're to go straight home and sleep!" Ned said with a rather parental tone.
"But Ned!" Elly whined playfully, everyone smiling at their goofiness.
"Come on, Elly," Greg said, picking up his stuff and locking down his computer. "We're out of here."
"Just a second. Ned, I just set my searches to hit both you and McGee up with the results. Just login and I think you'll figure it out. I set you up with a username and password to match your work email and home password, since I obviously don't know your work password."
"You guys know each other's email passwords?" Bishop asked with a raised eyebrow before drinking from her cup.
Both men looked at her and shrugged. "Yeah?" Ned said.
"We got nothing to hide. You know, except-"
"Not one word!" Ned said with a glare.
"Of course not," Elly said, waiting for Ned to look back down before mouthing the word "porn" to Bishop who snorted coffee out of her nose.
"Ass," Ned said, picking up the stress ball from his desk that Tony had given him as a joke to have something to throw at Elly other than a Lysol wipe tub. He took advantage of that now and without even looking beamed Elly in the side of the head as he bent down to slip his iPod back into his bag.
Elly only laughed and Greg tossed the ball back to Ned once it was retrieved from under his desk where it had rolled.
Ziva came into the bullpen as the two younger men started heading for the elevator. "Hello," she greeted.
"Goodbye," Elly said with a smile. "Nap time!"
Ziva smiled. "Enjoy," she said. She went to put her stuff down at her desk, then came over to join Ned and Bishop. "What do we know? Any new information?"
Bishop realized that it was up to her to brief them on what had happened since their departure. She nodded.
"Coffee?" Ned asked, offering Ziva a large cardboard cup and handful of half and half.
"Yes, please," Ziva said with a smile, then used Ned's desk as a table to pour in creamer. Bishop told them of everything that Abby and Ducky had found, then what they had done so far with the list. She didn't go into the questionability of taking out a kid in the field, but alluded to the fact that if they went out after Crow that Ned and Parke would be responsible for running profiling and coms.
"We have to figure out who we're going after first," Ned said, sighing as he brought up the list they'd been working. "You said you narrowed this list down already? Can you send me the copy with your notes?"
"Sure. You should also have an email from Hadley with a link to our people's files. Only you and Greg are allowed to get into them."
"Hmmm," Ned said with a raised eyebrow as he opened the email.
"Where is McGee?" Ziva asked.
"He went downstairs about an hour ago to take a nap in Abby's lab." On cue the staircase door opened and an exhausted looking McGee came through it. He headed for his desk with a yawn.
Ned got to his feet with a cup of coffee and made a beeline for McGee's desk. "Since I know there's no way you're coming home," he said as he handed Tim his cup. "Vanilla nonfat latte, extra espresso."
"Don't tell Abby or Elly but I think I want to marry you right now," Tim said, his shoulder slumping as he took the cup. He put it to his lips immediately and took a long gulp.
"Sorry, happily taken," Ned said with a smirk. "Bishop just briefed us on what you've found so far. Anything new from Abby?"
"Knife type for dismembering Carmichael is something called a Wusthof? Supposed to be for cutting bread."
Ziva and Bishop had followed Ned to that side of the bullpen, and Ziva's eyebrows went up. "That's a very expensive knife. We have them at the restaurant. Well over $100 each."
"Do you think we could track the vendors or put out word through the restaurant community here in DC to see if any of them are missing a knife like this?" Tim asked hopefully.
"We could ask," Ziva said with a shrug. "The chances are slim, but I would not turn down any possibility at a lead right now. I will text Dion. Have him put the word out."
"That reminds me. I should probably text Jake back." Bishop sighed.
"Why? What happened?" Ned asked.
"He got himself kicked off the wiretapping case to come home and butt into this one. He can't leave me alone to take care of this! He makes me feel like he thinks I'm incapable, but this kind of work feels right. I don't know. Maybe he's right to worry. The more I do this, the less happy I realize I am at NSA. I'm just afraid that he won't be able to take the change if I go to work at an agency. We're great right now. I was telling Elly and Greg that we weren't so great at all a couple of years ago because we had different security clearances and I couldn't talk to him about my work. It really aggravated him. I don't get it."
"Maybe," Ziva said tentatively. "Maybe this is a conversation to have in person. If you tell him about what he's making you feel and what being a part of this investigation is making you feel, and he sees how passionate you are about it, he'll understand."
"I agree," Ned said with a nod. "If Elly wanted to do something else, it would suck. It would. We've gotten so used to having each other at work. But if I knew that what he wanted to do was something that he was more passionate about than what he's doing here, if I could see that glow in his eyes, then I wouldn't hesitate to support him. Whatever it took."
Tim nodded, too. "Same with me and Abby," he added.
"This is obviously bothering you, and you really need some rest," Ziva said, reaching out to squeeze her arm. "You should go home for a few hours. Talk to him, sleep, shower, and then come back. You cannot afford to be distracted right now, and this is obviously bothering you."
"I hate that you're right, but thanks," she said, smiling at Ziva sadly.
"And if you want to bring clothes when you come back I can show you where the locker room is in case we're all stuck here overnight again and you want a shower," Ned said with an encouraging smile.
"Okay, I'm going," Bishop said, turning around and heading for her belongings. "It's 12:45. I'll be back by 4:30," she said over the wall.
As she waited for the elevator she thought that despite how much she hurt from losing Mark, she was completely satisfied with the work she'd been doing over the past couple of days. It felt right, and she was suddenly afraid that she was going to be stuck behind a desk at the NSA for the rest of her life. She needed to talk to Jake about it. As much as she liked working with him, she wasn't sure if this was the right place for her to spend her entire career.
The dark, rainy drive home was spent thinking about what Jake would say if she applied to work at the FBI again, or even the CIA. She was sure that Keo would give her a good reference, and that could be helpful. And she'd worked with a number of FBI and CIA agents in the past few years that she could call in a favor from. And then Elly and Greg had insinuated that they'd like to have her at NCIS. But Jake loved the NSA. She didn't think he would understand why she wanted to leave. She admitted to herself that she really wanted to be an agent, not an analyst.
She pulled past the front of the building and saw the light on in the bedroom window of their apartment on the second floor. She pulled into the garage under the building, and descended into the cavernous, florescent lit abyss. She hated the garage. It gave her the creeps.
With her bag over her shoulder she dragged herself up the stairs to the second floor hallway. She was exhausted, and she wasn't sure if she should nap first or confront Jake first. The fact that she saw it as a confrontation told her the answer. She needed to get this off her chest. At the same time Greg's words of wisdom were running through her head.
You need to get back to the roots of why you fell in love with each other.
One of the things that Jake had always told her that he loved about her was her spontaneity. He was such a serious and grounded man, down to his schedule and cereal choices. Maybe he needed to be reminded of just how spontaneous she could be. They always made passionate love when he came home from trips, almost feeling like they'd been apart for years when it was only mere days. Bishop smirked to herself as she decided she'd start this little reunion by taking out her frustration on Jake in the hottest way possible.
She turned the key in the door quietly and opened it with stealth. She was about to close the door behind her when she heard Jake talking to someone. Or at least she thought it was Jake.
She listened closely and tried to make out what was being said. She took a couple of steps closer towards the partially open bedroom door and stopped before she hit the squeaky floorboard.
Is he talking in Arabic? I must be losing it. This case is getting to me. But the more she listened, she heard that it was Arabic he was speaking in. That sneaky bastard! They have him working on the case too, just from this end! What does he know that I don't?! Maybe that's why he wants me out of the case. The NSA has found something out that they haven't told me yet because they don't want it shared with NCIS. She took another step towards the door, ready to barge in and demand answers, when Jake raised his voice.
She was able to make out what he was saying now, and it sent a chill through her bones.
"[Leave her out of this! My wife is not a bargaining chip! You wanted access to the brats, and I have them wrapped around my finger. They'll do anything I tell them to do. You tell me the targets, I take them out in my own special way, the kids take the fall, and you deposit the money.]" Jake was quiet a moment. "[X isn't a problem. He's practically in love with me. He'll rein it in for me if I ask him to.]
Bishop backed up slowly, her hand over her mouth. She quietly made her way out of the apartment, not sure what to do. She locked the door back behind her with the key silently and ran down the hallway towards the stairwell. A minute later she was in her car and racing out of the parking garage, hoping that he didn't see her driving by outside of the apartment window.
Her fingers shook as she dialed, unsure of why she was calling him instead of Hadley or Keo or even McGee, but Ned's raspy voice was a tether to reality when she answered.
"Special Agent Dorneget," he greeted.
"Ned!" she practically screamed.
"Ellie?" Ned asked, immediately alarmed and on his feet. "What's wrong?"
"It's Jake! Jake is Crow!"