Thanks to my wonderful beta Kristen! I now have a car! And an NCIS hat (I may have opened some of my presents early...).

Chapter 7: Too Clean

Lily watched as Ducky took the liver temperature.

She did not like being back in Boxall's neighborhood, but she could live with it. The nightclub next door was already open and loud music was pounding out. She was sorely tempted to shut the place on national security grounds. Arbourne wouldn't be happy, but Arbourne was never happy.

LJ was waiting on a confirmed time of death before he blew up at anyone. Lily suspected it would be either her shift or his, and seriously hoped it was his. She wasn't afraid of him yelling at her; it would be nice if she could yell at him over this.

Neither she nor LJ nor Tony had seen anyone entering or leaving. Of course, it hadn't been easy to see through the crowds of people outside the nightclub. Boxall had not made a single appearance. Possibly because he was dead, but was he waiting for someone? Was he murdered?

The body on the floor appeared to have committed suicide. Lily didn't care what it looked like. She'd come across enough supposed suicides to last a lifetime, and she'd faked a few herself. The only thing amiss here was how obvious it appeared.

Boxall had been shot in the head. The gun was still in his hand. There was a big wad of cash in an envelope on the side.

It was too clean for Lily's liking. Far too clean. If this were a real suicide, the money would still be hidden. The gun would be askew and the shot would not have been so clean.

As far as she was concerned, this was murder.

She kept her thoughts to herself, allowing the other agents to come to their own conclusions. She did not want to disturb Ducky until he had finished. She was also curious as to what the other agents thought. Keeping quiet was the best idea.

Ducky sat up and pronounced the verdict. "Some time between 2230 and 0130."

Slap bang in the middle. She hoped it would be angled more LJ's way.

"You can't be any more specific?" LJ checked.

"Time of death is only a rough estimate," Palmer interjected. "There is an allowance made to be safe with the estimate, but –"

"If I had to guess," Ducky interrupted. "I would say around midnight. But, as Mr. Palmer so helpfully explained, it is only an estimate, which is why time is added to either side."

"We can all blame Tony," Lily smirked. "He was the only one on stakeout between those times."

LJ ignored her comment. "Did you see anything suspicious?" he asked her.

"Nope. I'm just the spare pair of hands, mind. Or, in this case, eyes. It was very crowded out the front, so it is possible someone slipped past."

"How busy does next door get every night?" LJ grumbled.

"I rang a friend and checked," she added. "Apparently last night was an average night."

"The club is under surveillance?" LJ questioned. "You could have mentioned this before!"

"The club is not under surveillance," she corrected. "I have a friend who comes most nights. She wasn't present last night, I already checked."

LJ only rolled his eyes.

Lily observed as the rest of the team searched the apartment.

Ducky and Palmer had carted the body away, leaving the others to do the rest of the work. If this was a suicide, the stolen software should be hidden somewhere.

Of course, this somewhere could be anywhere. There were literally hundreds of places something so small could be hidden. Lily had counted 97 in the bathroom alone. Not everyone was as smart as she was or thought like her. It did narrow the options down somewhat, but everywhere needed to be checked.

She had pointed out at the start that she was only along in case they learnt anything top secret, not to search places. She had curled up in an empty corner with Boxall's cat, Mya. Mya was a very cute black and white kitten, who was enjoying the constant attention Lily was lavishing on her.

Lily liked cats. The Great Aunt had always had one. Dogs simply stank, in her opinion, although they were useful in tracking someone down.

McGee did not like cats. He had started sneezing whenever she was near. Lily found it partly amusing and partly upsetting. She liked McGee as he was, not with a red nose.

The whole place was being turned upside down by four agents. Considering the state it was in before they had arrived, Lily suspected an elephant could have been hidden in the mounds of rubbish. The kitten had only appeared when Tony had moved a broken TV set, making him yell in shock. Lily had found this very amusing.

LJ had taken the kitchen area, and was busy emptying out every packet, tin, box, and so forth in the hope it had been stashed inside. Ziva had taken the bedroom. Judging from the smell, the job was not going to take too long. McGee had chosen the bathroom, simply to be away from the cat. He probably had the easiest job, as the room was tiny. There was not room to swing a cat in there.

Lily laughed at her own joke.

Tony had chosen the living area. It was the biggest, but she was sitting in the corner, giving helpful suggestions every now and then. He had thrown a cushion in her direction so she could sit on something comfortable. They had tried to have a cushion fight, but LJ had noticed and threatened to get Tony to go through the trash outside.

Lily guessed he really wanted her to do it, but he couldn't force her. She would have Arbourne out so quickly it would be untrue. She briefly wondered if she was supposed to update her boss regularly, but remembered that he hadn't mentioned it in her briefing and decided not to. If he wanted details, he could ring her.

After several hours, the team reconvened in the living area. Lily stood up from the corner and put Mya on the floor.

"Anything?" she asked.

McGee shook his head.

LJ rolled his eyes.

Ziva snorted.

"Nope," answered Tony.

"Did anyone find a digital camera?" she checked.

Again, everyone shook their heads.

"Great," she grumbled. "Guess I'm sitting through an autopsy."

Autopsy was cold, Lily thought. Colder than it should be. Perhaps if it were a little warmer, people would feel more welcome.

It was hard to feel unwanted when Ducky rambled through another story, but it was hard to feel wanted when someone was being cut up in front of you. Lily understood the need for autopsies, but never particularly liked seeing them.

As far as she was concerned, they knew how Boxall had died. It was an obvious gunshot wound to the head. She was more interested in proving it a murder, which was more Abby's job. However, she felt she needed to be present for one main reason.

If Boxall had stolen the tech, it had to be hidden somewhere. It was not in his apartment. If he had been murdered, there was a good chance he had swallowed the tech to stop someone else getting their hands on it. If she was cornered and had no way out, she would have swallowed the tech herself. It would be safe inside her for a few days, or until someone did an autopsy.

Her job was to protect the secrets. Nothing more, nothing less.

Therefore, somewhere in Boxall's body, the tech could lie waiting. If it was, she wanted to be around when it was found. She also wanted to serve as a visual reminder that the tech could be present.

Ducky continued his story about another time when a beautiful lady had swallowed something important to keep it a secret, and how he had discovered it in her autopsy. Lily tuned him out easily. She liked Ducky, but she didn't need to listen to his stories. They only distracted her.

How Palmer could cope with the medical examiner's ramblings was beyond her. If she had to listen to Ducky every day for years on end, she would be plotting a murder. Ducky was a mine of information, but did not seem to realize he could go on a bit. More than a bit.

When Ducky sent Palmer out of the room to visit Abby, she wandered over to the body.

"Bowl's over there, if you need it," Ducky commented.

"Huh?"

"You've turned an interesting shade of green," he pointed out.

"I wasn't born to stare into people's innards," she complained. "I'll be fine."

"Were you aware that during Jennifer's first autopsy –"

"She vomited all over LJ's new shoes? I heard it from both of them. And you told me as well."

"I did?" Ducky stopped poked around with his scalpel and tried to think back.

"In Calais," she prompted.

Ducky continued to look confused.

"Okay, change of topic. Have you found the tech?"

"I can categorically state that he never swallowed it," he replied.

"I'm beginning to suspect he didn't steal it."

"That is not my job," he smiled.

She smiled back. "You can keep your job."

He laughed for a moment before becoming more serious. "How are you coping?"

"You mean after shooting my father?"

"Patricide, or any other killing where you have to kill someone who means a lot to you, is always very difficult."

"He meant a lot to me. He didn't anymore."

"But still."

She considered. "I've been focusing on my job, I guess."

"You need to stop blaming yourself."

"I shot him in cold blood. It wasn't self-defense; it wasn't to save a life. I murdered him, and that isn't going to change."

"As I see it," Ducky remarked. "You killed a very dangerous man. You did your job."