Gibbs, merely raised an eyebrow; he knew better than to stand in the way when Ducky was on a warpath.

Ziva walked out of the elevator, her eyes scanning the bullpen to see Tony dozing at his desk and McGee asleep at his. "Did either of you ever go home last night or were you too busy burning the midnight wax?"

Tony shook his head without bothering to raise it from his fists, his eyes still closed. "It's 'midnight oil' and no, I ended up chatting with some of Ducky's old friends in England thanks to the time difference and Probie was getting Ducky's military record."

"Either of you get any sleep?" Ziva asked, dropping her bag behind her desk.

"Probie finally fell asleep," Tony shifted his head to rest on his right fist so he could look at his watch, "about an hour ago. 'Bout time, I was getting tired myself."

Ziva paused as she processed what he said and then looked in alarm at McGee's desk. "You didn't do anything to him, did you?!"

"Ziva, do you honestly think so little of me?" Tony asked.

"Yes."

Tony smirked and gestured to McGee's desk. "Take a look."

Wary, Ziva approached the younger man's desk, noticing a folder that he was using as a pillow. She inched forward, her ankle snagging on something. She jerked her foot back but the tripwire had been, well, tripped causing a weight to land on an air horn. Ziva flinched as the horn sounded for full ear-numbing second, making Tony jump and McGee jerk awake.

"TONY, you're NOT pranking me!" McGee snapped still half-asleep, his jacket littered with doodle covered post-its, one of them stuck to his cheek. McGee blinked owlishly up at her. "Oh, morning Ziva."

"Morning, McGee," Ziva said, acid in her tone as she pulled the post-it off of his face before she turned and glared at Tony.

Tony blinked, looking a little worried. He gave a semi-guilty smile. "Who wants breakfast?"

Ziva's eyes softened as they slid past him and Tony turned in time to see Gibbs escorting a well put together visitor towards Director Vance's office. Gibbs must have sensed eyes on him as he called out "Three hours" without turning to the team.

Tony turned back to Ziva and McGee. "You heard the man, we've got three hours."

Ziva nodded taking the folder from McGee's desk. "Then we better not waste any time."

"Coffee then campfire," Tony agreed, gathering his notes.

"What are we doing with coffee?" McGee asked still not quite awake.

It was nearly noon when Fornell opened the door to Director Vance's office, letting DeForest escort Ducky through first. Fornell scanned the room out of habit, his attention drawn to the conference table and the two sitting at it with Gibbs standing next to it.

Vance looked up and nodded at the table. "Un-handcuff Doctor Mallard and have a seat."

DeForest studied the room. "He's still in our custody."

Gibbs moved forward towering over everyone with ease, he caught Fornell's look of jealously over their height difference.

"Don't make me say it again," Vance warned.

DeForest planted her feet. "You don't have the authority-"

"Agent DeForest, no one is impressed," A woman wearing a good suit, with red hair and an even tone said, "The CIA has jurisdiction over anything having to do with Illya Kuryakin. Un-cuff Doctor Mallard and Sit Down."

DeForest held her ground for a second longer, glaring at Gibbs as she fished out her key and released Ducky. Gibbs pointedly pulled out two chairs from the table, DeForest never breaking eye contact as she sat down and Fornell sat down next to her with more grace. Ducky stood hesitantly for a moment before Gibbs pulled out a chair father down from the FBI agents and the ME sat down. Gibbs sat between Ducky and Fornell.

"I don't think you've been introduced," Vance gestured to the red-haired woman, "Agent DeForest, this is April Dancer of the CIA. Ms. Dancer, Agent Kelly DeForest."

"Yes, your actions precede you," Dancer said, "Alright, let's save everybody some time. Stop looking into Kuryakin."

DeForest blinked. "What?"

"As I said before," Dancer explained with patience, "Kuryakin falls under our jurisdiction, so you don't have to look for him."

"Just because you have jurisdiction doesn't mean he doesn't need to be found-"

"Found? The CIA never lost him." Dancer corrected. "I know exactly where Kuryakin is right at this moment."

Everyone but Gibbs and Dancer looked at Ducky with various degrees of subtly.

"Your commitment to your misguided theory is admirable," Dancer said, drawing everyone's eyes back to her. "Because I've seen your evidence and it is woefully lacking. So, what in the world makes you so sure that Doctor Mallard is Kuryakin?"

"What is your evidence that he's not?" DeForest demanded.

Fornell covered his mouth, resting his elbow on the table as he shot Gibbs a look. Gibbs gave a small grin and tilted his head to the side.

Dancer sighed. "Agent DeForest-"

The door of the office burst open as Abby entered like flood, with Palmer, Albert, and the rest of Gibbs team washing in after her.

"Miss Sciuto-!" Vance said only for Abby, still dressed in yesterday's clothes, to talk over him.

"You can't arrest Ducky for being a Russian Spy, because he's NOT and we can prove it!" She all but slammed her laptop onto the table and opening the lid. "I wish you guys had like, told me about this, so I could make it, you know, understandable, with like graphs or something, but you know what, it's okay, because Ducky is worth not sleeping, and running facial recognition on Albert's entire photo album!"

"Abby, would you like us to start while you get that set up?" McGee asked.

"Yes!"

Vance gave McGee an unamused look. "Yes, why don't you precede, Agent McGee?"

McGee had the decency to look nervous. "Uh, well, I have, uh, I have Doctor Mallard's records from his birth to now, including his military record."

"And according to my research," Ziva added, flipping open her file, "multiple sources place Kuryakin in Amsterdam asking about stolen diamonds in 1964 while his military record places Doctor Mallard in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean as one of the ship's doctors aboard the HMS Hermes."

"I found at least eight people who knew Doctor Mallard, three of whom served with him during Sixties and Seventies," Tony said.

"AND," Palmer said, laying a hand on the arm of the older gentleman next to him, "We have his second-cousin, Albert, right here."

"Oh, the cousin you were supposed to have dinner with?" Fornell asked Ducky.

"Yes, I appreciated the call by the way." Albert said.

"SO DID I!" Abby said, flipping her laptop around for everyone else to see, "Cause then Palmer called him, and he brought a GIANT photo album with him. I can say, with a hundred percent certainty that NONE of the pictures of Ducky Mallard match Illya Kuryakin!"

"Wait, none of them?" Fornell asked. "Then what about the one you gave me?"

"That is BECAUSE it's actually a picture of Kuryakin!" Abby said bouncing in excitement, "I ran that one against the ones that Gibbs and Albert gave me and they don't match. When Albert and Ducky were in Germany, Kuryakin must have been there too and since they look so similar Albert took his picture thinking it was Ducky!"

"Oh, it was you," Dancer said, looking at Albert with mischief in her eyes. "I remember Kuryakin telling me about the time he had to follow someone for three hours after they took his picture. You're lucky he didn't kill you."

Everyone looked at Albert, who looked mildly surprised at the story.

"Whoa," Abby said.

"How long have you been working on this?" Dancer asked.

"'Bout a day and a half," Tony answered.

"Verses your, what, month?" Dancer said her eyes on DeForest.

"…Three weeks."

"I must say, Agent Gibbs, I'm impressed with your team. But to be perfectly honest, you didn't need to bother," Dancer said, "Kuryakin has been granted Immunity, Amnesty and Pardons in the U.S. and many other countries."

There was a pause as everyone looked at each other.

"Like," Tony asked, scratching his ear, "how many countries are we talking about?"

Dancer thought for a moment. "How many countries are currently in the U.N.?"

The whole room seemed to blink. "Oh."

McGee licked his lips. "That's…"

"Quite a lot," Palmer finished.

"A lot? That's like, ALL of them!" Abby exclaimed.

"Hm, all but six I believe," Ducky corrected.

"So, we did all of this for nothing?" Tony asked.

"Looks like," Gibbs said with a half smirk.

Vance leveled a look at the senior agent. "Why do I get the feeling you knew this would happen, Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs just smirked and shrugged.

"Gibbs, why didn't you say anything?" Abby demanded.

"It would have saved us a lot of phone calls," Tony pointed out.

"And a bottle of aspirin," McGee added bitterly.

"Agent Gibbs is not allowed to say anything in regards to Kuryakin," Dancer said, and the team looked at Gibbs in surprise.

"Let me guess: The redacted paragraph in your file about the six months in Russia has something to do with Kuryakin?" Vance said.

DeForest stiffened looking at Gibbs in surprise. "You know what happened to Kuryakin and Solo?"

"Comrade Kuryakin," The bigwig said, dropping a loaded gun onto the desk. "Shoot that man."

The Uniform, Kuryakin, picked up the gun, pointing it at the tied up man. His eyes widened as a KGB pulled the hood off. "Napoleon…"

Solo looked around the room and eyed the gun in Kuryakin's hands warily.

"Somewhat," Gibbs answered off handily. "And it doesn't explain why you're so interested in them."

"It's…" DeForest worried her lip.

When the FBI agent didn't speak again, Dancer looked across the table at Ducky. "You are free to go if you wish, Doctor Mallard."

Ducky nodded, laying his hands on the table as he stood up.

"This case is dealing with diphenylpicrincyanicchlorasine," DeForest finally said her eyes closed in resignation.

Ducky froze halfway out of his chair causing everyone to pause.

"What is that?" Palmer asked, watching as Ducky slowly sat back down.

"Well, it's a mouth full. And here I thought I'd never be able to pronounce Carry-on-kin right." Tony said.

"You still can't," Ziva noted sharply.

Albert's eyes scanned the room, as though he was reading the tension in the air. When their eyes met, Gibbs nodded in Ziva's direction. Albert gently took the file from her and laid it by Ducky's elbow before gently squeezing the ME's arm. "I believe this is our cue to leave."

"But wait, what's-?" McGee started only for Albert to seemingly herd them all out of the room.

When the door shut with a resounding click, Ducky turned to DeForest. "In what way does this case involve that gas?"

"How do you know it's a gas?" DeForest asked.

Ducky leveled an unimpressed look at her. "Gibbs is not the only one with a redaction in his military history. And I don't believe you are in a position to being the one asking the questions anymore."

"I have one," Vance said, "What is this gas?"

"Diphenylpicrincyanicchlorasine is a powerful depressant that induces immense anxiety in those who are under its influence," Ducky explained. "It was originally developed to replace nerve gas for World War Two. However the gas was easily defeated by a standard issues gas mask and the effects wear off in about two hours' time."

"And Kuryakin's connection?"

Dancer spoke up. "He had been asked to investigate some people who planned to use the gas for their own ends. They had been planning on flooding military instillations with a higher, more stable form of the gas and take them over before it wore off."

"They still are," DeForest said.

Everyone in the room froze.

"Excuse me," Fornell practically demanded.

DeForest pulled a USB drive from her pocket and slid it onto the table. "I have information that a group is planning on releasing the gas on certain military, specifically, Naval bases."

Gibbs slid the drive down to Vance while Fornell stood, towering over his own lead agent. "And you are only telling us this now?"

"I couldn't say before," DeForest said.

"'You couldn't say before'? When you clearly have hard evidence on this but some half-assed photo evidence was enough to bring Doctor Mallard in for questioning!?" Fornell demanded.

"Spouse or child?" Dancer asked, watching as Vance searched the drive on his computer.

"My son," DeForest admitted.

"Of course!" Fornell rolled his eyes.

Gibbs gave him a look.

"I didn't say we're not getting him back," Fornell defended, "I'm just saying…of course."

Vance pulled the pictures from the drive onto his plasma and everyone stood to look at them. It looked like the kind of generic shot that some tourist might have taken of Navy personal going about their day, if it wasn't for the fact that all the pictures were taken pass the security check points of Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling. Vance looked at DeForest, "Did you take these?"

"No, these were sent to me as the potential targets."

Gibbs shook his head pointing to a woman at the bottom right of the screen. "Not potential, she's our jumper."

"From yesterday?" Vance asked. "You think she's involved?"

"Duck?" Gibbs said, turning back to the Doctor.

"Well, theoretically, a constant low dose of the gas could create an artificial anxiety disorder. If that is the case we should see traces of diphenyl sulfide in Ensign Kimberly Jones blood in a tox screen. But…"

"But?" Gibbs prompted.

"The scars Ensign Jones had on her arms were at least three months old. If she was exposed to the gas on base…"

"We'll need to evacuate the base," Vance said.

"Is that a good idea?" DeForest asked.

"I don't think you have the right to question what is and is not a good idea," Fornell said sharply.

"You are the one with a reputation for taking over cases because someone looked at you funny. I've been running this investigation so sloppily I would have thought you'd take it over two weeks ago!"

Gibbs looked at Fornell out of the corner of his eye. Fornell held up a finger without turning around. "Not one word, Gibbs. And you," he said, his full attention on DeForest. "There were other ways of handling this than just hoping that someone would take this off of your hands."

"What did you want me to do?" DeForest snapped. "They have my son!"

"Rule twenty-eight: If you need help, ask." Gibbs said, deceptively calm, "We can't help if we don't know."

"Why do you need Kuryakin?" Dancer asked.

DeForest glanced at Fornell, who was still glaring at her before she turned to Dancer fully. "The demands are for Kuryakin and/or Solo to deliver a million dollars to the Washington Monument by the end of the month."

"Pretty low amount for a terrorist group," Vance noted.

"What happens if it's not Kuryakin or Solo who does it?" Dancer asked.

"My son dies, and they flood the military bases with the gas."

"Gibbs is right, I wish you had said something sooner," Dancer said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "It'll take weeks to go through the proper channels to contact Kuryakin, and even if he says yes, it'll take time to set up the exchange so that we don't have to relocate him afterwards-"

"I'll do it," Ducky said.

Everyone looked at him.

"Wait, are you saying…?" Fornell almost asked.

"That I apparently pass a close enough resemblance that I can pretend to be Illya Kuryakin for a day? Yes."

"No, I don't like it, it's too risky," Vance said.

"This won't be the first time I went undercover for NCIS," Ducky reminded the Director.

"Ducky," Gibbs said looking at his friend.

Ducky held up a hand. "Jethro, a young man's life hangs in the balance. And this gas is not something to be trifled with. All I need is some advice from Miss Dancer, some of Kuryakin's old reports and perhaps a few hours to perform Ensign Jones's autopsy and we can settle this."

Dancer nodded. "Very well, give me a few hours to put together a briefing; that should also be enough time to preform your autopsy."

Ducky nodded. "Thank you, if you excuse me."

Vance held up a hand. "Stop."

Ducky turned back to Vance.

"The autopsy I'll give you. But I don't like the idea of you going undercover. You're a doctor, not a spy," Vance said firmly.

Ducky took a deep breath and looked Vance in the eye. "I believe, in this case, I must be both."

Vance looked at Gibbs as Ducky left the office. Gibbs, merely raised an eyebrow; he knew better than to stand in the way when Ducky was on a warpath.