Disclaimer: See chapter 1 for the disclaimer.

NCIS Headquarters/September 15, 2010, 1617 Romeo

Abby felt, more than heard, Gibbs and someone else enter the lab. She turned to see her feelings confirmed, for before her were, in fact, Gibbs, Fornell, and most importantly of all, a fresh cup of Caf-Pow.

"Gibbs! You are not going to believe what I've got for you," she said as she started machine gunning commands into her computer. "That brass in the air conditioning vent had been down there ever since the shooting, which was about three days ago. In that time, your usual microscopic layer of dust had accumulated on it, but not only that, there was also the matter of all the dust, gunk, and grime it'd rolled over once it landed and settled. After all that, any forensic evidence on that casing other than the weapon and bullet striations should've been nonexistent."

"But it wasn't?" Gibbs asked as he and Fornell took place on opposite sides of Abby and watched the info on her screens. As usual, they were trying (and failing) to discern what the mumbo jumbo meant.

"Exactly! In fact, what I found was so pristine and perfect, it might as well have been mere minutes old! I mean, the likelihood of that happening is, like, one in fifteen-million, and it happened! Do you know how lucky we are? We could've had squat, and-"

"Abby."

"Right, sorry." Finally, an image of the casing with a distinct black collection of lines in a noticeable and familiar shape appeared. "I got a thumbprint off the casing. It must've come from when he loaded the round into the magazine, but it's there, and I got a near-perfect match off it. I say 'near' because it turned up two matches. To be fair, these guys have near identical prints, the kinda thing that would make doctors go crazy and debate over it in a lotta science journals. And even weirder than that? Both matches come from the Navy database! I know you don't believe in coincidences, Gibbs, but I can't think of anything else to call that!"

"Abbs! The guys the prints came from?"

"Oh yeah," More commands, and then two pictures appeared onscreen. "One is Fire Controlman Third Class Doug Boulder, stationed on the USS Colorado. Isn't that hinky too? A guy named 'Boulder' on the 'Colorado'? That's like-"

She stopped when she saw the look Gibbs was giving her.

"Controlman Boulder," she resumed, as if the moment hadn't happened. "Has been at sea for three months of a six month deployment cruise. The other match comes from a retired SEAL, which would explain the pro-ness of this guy when he kills people, and the Wellco boots too, though, I guess you'd already figure that out. Anyway, his name is-"

"Vince Hauser," Gibbs answered for her, his eyes never leaving the image of the man on the screen before them.

Click

The plasma screen between McGee and DiNozzo's desk now showed the Service Record Book of the MCRT's only suspect. He didn't quite look his forty-years of age, even with the black stubble that looked to be on the verge of full beardhood.

"Chief Special Warfare Operator Vince Hauser," McGee began from his desk, his eyes more on the small quarter circle formed by the MCRT and Agent Fornell than the screen. "Enlisted in the Navy right out of high school at age eighteen in 1988, went right into SEAL qualification and training immediately afterwards by means of the SEAL Challenge Contract. Spent the next twenty-eight and a half months earning his SO rating, then became a full-fledged SEAL and was assigned to SEAL Team Three literally two days before it was deployed to the Middle East in 1990."

"After serving in Kuwait and Iraq," Tony picked up. "Hauser remained in Team Three until 1993, when he transferred to the Naval Special Warfare Development Group. We don't really know anything about what he did there because…well…"

Another click brought up other pages of his SRB, with lines upon lines of text rendered unreadable by black ink.

"They're pretty serious about 'classified,' Boss."

"Whatever Hauser did," Ziva interjected. "He did it for fifteen years before retiring in 2008 at the age of 38. He then moved to Alaska and, for the most part, has remained isolated and secluded away. So much so, in fact, that no one even knows where his home is."

"A regular Bob Lee Swagger," Tony said. "Only he's a SEAL instead of a Marine Scout Sniper."

"Any way we can get access to his DEVGRU info?" Gibbs asked.

"Well…not legally," McGee said, shifting in his seat as he did so.

"Why don't you get it, Fornell?" Tony asked the odd man out of the group. "We know how much you love to throw your FBI weight around, since it gets oh so much more done than our wimpy NCIS weight."

"Yeah, fat chance DiNutso," Fornell replied. "I'd be lucky if I could find out the name of at least one of his teammates. My director might be able to get something, but he and I don't exactly rub elbows."

Gibbs turned and started leaving the bullpen area, heading for the stairs toward MTAC.

"McGee, find out what you can about those committee members Cress told us about," he ordered. "Start with Merdetzky, can't be many of those in the CIA. DiNozzo, try to contact his family, then find out as much about Hauser's time in Team Three as you can. Track down old teammates, get some thoughts. David, track down where Hauser lives. Start with the locals of the nearest town, he's probably been there to get supplies, and maybe someone's made a delivery."

"And what are you gonna do?" Fornell asked sarcastically, having to raise his voice to be heard by the man now almost entirely up the stairs.

"Rub elbows!" Gibbs replied from the balcony, his voice equally raised.

When Director Leon Vance's door opened and Gibbs came strolling in, unannounced and unexpected, he wasn't surprised in the least.

"Sometimes I consider putting a keypad lock on that door," Vance said as Gibbs closed the door in question, then walked to and sat in one of the chairs before his desk. "Then giving everyone the code but you."

Gibbs shrugged. "I'd just get it outta McGee."

Vance just snorted and shook his head before getting down to business. "How's your joint investigation going?"

"We've got a connection and a suspect," Gibbs replied. "Our victims were part of a joint SOG-JSOC committee responsible for force deployment in the Middle East. We're thinkin' our suspect is killing them as payback for a mission he was a part of that ended badly. The committee had withheld reinforcements for political reasons, and our suspect was the only guy in his team to make it out."

"Sounds like a movie," Vance remarked.

Gibbs looked around. "Heard that one before."

Vance leaned forward, found his trusty toothpick before placing it in its rightful spot in his mouth, and leaned back. "Who's the suspect?"

"Retired SEAL Chief Petty Officer Vince Hauser. Not just any SEAL though. The last three-quarters of his twenty year career are heavily classified."

"How classified?"

"'Tier One Operator' classified."

"Please don't tell me you need access to that information."

"Don't feel like lyin' right now, Leon."

Vance sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Is what you need to know critical to your investigation?"

"Maybe," Gibbs replied. "That's why I wanna take a look and find out."

Another sigh from the director. "I can maybe get the part of the file pertaining to the mission that went south. Don't expect too much, Jethro."

Gibbs shrugged as he stood. "I'll take what I can get, Leon," he said before taking his leave.

NCIS Headquarters/September 15, 2010, 1720 Romeo

Gibbs strolled into the bullpen with a cup carrier holding five cups of coffee and an empty slot. He was pleased to see his three agents working quietly, a departure from Tony's usually sophomoric attempts at delaying said work.

Gibbs came to stand before Ziva's desk. She was, at first, oblivious to his presence, having thrown herself fully into the search. Finally though, he saw her nose twitch, and she looked to him and the elixir he held.

"Whadduya got?" Gibbs asked.

Ziva intertwined her fingers and raised her hands high above her head, as high as her arms could stretch. The popping from the small of her back explained the reasoning of this before she settled into a normal stance. "Chief Hauser lives somewhere near Ruby, Alaska. He occasionally purchases canned goods in town, however the people I spoke to have the impression that, if he really wanted to close himself off from the rest of the world, he would have no problem at all surviving off the wildlife. As for the location of his home, all they know is that it is somewhere 'down west of town.'"

"Has anyone seen him lately?"

"He did make one shopping trip for canned goods, various beverages, and other supplies four days ago. He has not been seen since."

Gibbs nodded before taking a cup from the carrier and placing it on her desk. Leaving Ziva to enjoy her reward, he moved to Tony's desk. The younger agent was just hanging up his phone.

"Chief Hauser has no family," he said. "He was disowned by his father when he enlisted, and any chances of reconciliation ended when the old man put him through a bar-front window when he came back on leave. All he got was a gash on his head that needed stitches, but it basically ended any connection to someone outside the Navy that Hauser had. He basically made his team his family."

"What kind of SEAL was he?"

"By all accounts? A born natural. As the Leading Petty Officer of his platoon put it, 'grass grows, birds sing, the sun shines, and brother, he hurts people.'"

"So why'd he take retirement?"

"Dunno. The LPO didn't keep in touch with him after he was transferred, hell he didn't even know that Hauser ended up in DEVGRU."

Gibbs nodded before setting a cup before him and moving to McGee's desk.

"Whadduya got, Tim?"

"Well, there are actually two Merdetzkys in the CIA," McGee said without looking away from his screen, or even stopping typing. "One's been in the agency four years and is stationed as an intel analyst in Moscow. The other, Stan Merdetzky, was formerly a ranking member of the SAD, and resides in McLean. That's all I've been able to find with my clearance level."

"I might be able to help with that," Fornell said as he walked up beside Gibbs, reached around his arm, and lifted a cup of coffee from the carrier. He opened the top, checked it, then returned the top and enjoyed a nice long sip through the mouth hole. After letting out a very pleased sigh, he continued. "I've got a guy back at the Hoover Building who's done a lotta computer work for Langley. He can probably find a lot more about this than anyone in this building."

"Even the director?" McGee asked incredulously.

"Even the director," Fornell replied with a nod.

"Alright, bring him in," Gibbs said before handing McGee his cup. "Is Merdetzky's name in the phonebook?"

"No, Boss, he's a private listing."

"Alright, that means Hauser doesn't know where to find him yet. I want you to head to McLean, pick him up, and get him to a safehouse. I'll get with the director and have one set up, then call you to let you know which one to head to."

"On it Boss," McGee replied as he took the coffee and began gathering his things. He had just started to step from behind his desk when Gibbs tossed him the keys to the sedan, which he caught. And so Tony and Ziva resumed their work, Gibbs went to Vance's office, and Fornell made his call, all while McGee strode to and entered the elevator before taking it down, thankfully unaware of just how different things would be the next time he returned.