A/N- OK, so, this was the chapter that wouldn't end, I think it's too long - but I needed all of this to happen so I could move the story forwards. I promise the next part won't be so, procedural. Thanks for the reviews for the previous chapters, it's great that people are staying with this fic.

Seeing Red – part 4

Gibbs looked across the table in the interview room, the Lt. stared back at him, the bravado he'd been hiding behind since Ziva and DiNozzo brought him in fading fast. He'd been at the lecture; he could have followed the Director to the opera and everywhere else. His description just about fit that of the person who had purchased a custom made red wig, but with every moment that passed the excitement at having a credible suspect was fading. The good Lt. might have run when approached by NCIS – but Gibbs was increasingly certain that he wasn't their guy.

He took a sip from his rapidly cooling coffee and let his victim stew for a little longer. Abby and McGee were still looking for anyone whose movements matched the events described in the letters, they were going to find something. It was just a question of when.

Last night he'd roamed restlessly around his house for a couple of hours – not even working on his boat had calmed him. Finally he'd given up and returned to the base, where he could see and know everything that was going on. Jen had probably got more sleep on the couch in her office.

All day he'd been pushing the team pretty hard, but the threat in the final letter had been clear. His gut told him they were running out of time, that their guy was spiralling out of control, consumed by his determination to make Jen surrender. He might stop being careful – but there was no knowing what damage he would do before they could stop him.

If the rest of NCIS had expected their Director to take cover when the news broke that she had a dangerous stalker, then they didn't know her very well. Instead of hiding away in her office or in MTAC she'd been highly visible and in kick ass mood. Gibbs hadn't seen her, but he knew she'd cut a swathe through some of his colleagues. She'd clearly had enough rest and space to rebuild some of the walls that had seemed in danger of crumbling yesterday. She was tough, she'd be fine – and if she wasn't she'd make sure everyone believed otherwise. He was one of the few people who might see through that act, though it was anyone's guess whether he would decide to call her on it.

He looked across the table again and decided if he left it just a little longer, their suspect would be ready to spill his guts. A few minutes later he emerged from the interview room to find DiNozzo and Ziva waiting, they'd no doubt witnessed the brief interrogation he'd just conducted.

"Do you believe him?" Tony asked.

"About the smuggling – yes?" Gibbs looked back through the one way glass, something niggling him. "He knows something, or thinks he does. He's scared."

"You think someone else got him to collect the wig?" Ziva said, Gibbs considered that. He was increasingly sure that the lecture was important, the moment when this all began.

"Let him stew while you run some more checks. Find out how he got into that lecture, you couldn't exactly buy tickets at the box office. It was staff, current students, alumni and invited guests only. See who he knows who was there."

"On it boss." He watched them go and then turned his attention to the man who had watched the interaction without commenting – which was unusual.

"You got something for me Ducky?"

"No, I came to see how you were." He scowled, already tired of being asked that.

"Well, I'm in the middle of a complicated case, searching for a killer who I'm fairly sure is mad. There's little in the way of evidence to help me track him down, the Secret Service decision not to investigate at the outset means the trail is pretty cold and if I screw up NCIS is going to need a new Director. Other than that I'm fine Ducks, how are you?"

"You've been known to take cases like this personally, Jethro."

"Not this time."

Abby was delivering a lecture on the typology of stalking. It wasn't clear what had prompted her outpouring, but Jen suspected McGee had said or done something. Leaning against the doorway, close enough to overhear, but not to be seen; it was hard not to be impressed by the sheer amount of information the scientist had managed to absorb on the subject. Although, having once been stalked herself, perhaps Abby was making use of an earlier review of available literature.

She'd had Cynthia pull some information together earlier today, so the content was familiar. Hearing it presented like this almost made it, clinical. She'd like to convince herself that this was about someone else's rapidly unravelling life. But no matter how hard she tried to retain some sense of distance, she knew the life in question was hers. "It can take over 10 years for an obsession like this to burn out," Abby concluded, "10 years McGee, can you imagine that?"

"I suppose, no, not really." His back was to her but Jen could imagine McGee's frown as he sought a rational explanation for something that was far from rational. "But, he thinks its love, in some twisted part of his mind at least. If you love someone you don't just stop."

"It's not love Agent McGee, not even in some deeply twisted form." She couldn't let that pass, even though her voice sounded just a little too strained. "It's not even close." He jumped a mile at the sound of her voice and she tried to take just a little pleasure in the knowledge that she was still intimidating. At least to McGee.

"Director, I didn't know you were there. I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" She waved his apology away, more interested in results. Abby looked as though she was trying to decide if a hug was in order and Jen really hoped she concluded that now was not a good time.

"Do you have anything new?" She asked, hoping to distract Abby for long enough for the moment to pass.

"I think that's supposed to be my question." Of course Jethro chose that precise moment to appear behind her, though she'd been trying to stay out of his way for most of the day. He handed Abby the inevitable Caff Pow; Ziva and Tony trailing in his wake. They looked slightly wary – perhaps wondering if having caught her interfering in the case, a disagreement was inevitable and were trying to work out how not to be caught in the cross fire.

"The gangs all here," Tony observed lightly, as though humour was going to have any impact on the tension in the room.

"Your suspect?" She asked, ignoring the looks they all seemed to be shooting her. Checking she wasn't about to fall apart, she thought ungenerously.

"Freaked out because he thought we were pulling him in over a smuggling ring." Tony shrugged, "he might know something – but he isn't giving it up."

"Which brings us back to your schedule and the letters," Abby said, all business now. "McGee and I have been taking a closer look. We have managed to rule out over 150 of the people who attended the lecture – most of them are posted overseas or on the other side of the country, and yes Gibbs, we have checked they aren't on leave," she added forestalling his inevitable question.

"I've been looking at the letters as well," her eyes met Jethro's for a moment, but she looked away first, his scrutiny too penetrating. "The trip to the opera was organised by Sec Nav – entertainment for some overseas VIPs. But the point is, he must have been there." No one questioned who the 'he' she referred to was. But no one was looking at her as though she had said anything revelatory either. She glanced at Abby, who she thought might see it. "How did he know I was going to the opera? I'm assuming we don't think he hacked into our systems to read my schedule?"

"He didn't hack in," McGee sounded certain, "we checked – there hasn't been a security breach."

"So he followed you," Tony said, "saw you go inside, realised it was the opera." Jen opened her voice to disagree, but Abby got there first; her eyes wide as she processed the implications.

"No, guys, he was there, he had tickets. Director, you're right, he was close to you! He knew what you were wearing – it's in the letter. He talks about wanting to touch your back." Jen shivered and silently vowed to give the backless dress, which she had actually been very fond of, to charity. He'd been close enough to touch her – but she wasn't thinking about that today, she was thinking about catching the bastard.

"He couldn't have seen you earlier?" Gibbs asked, and she dragged her memory back to that night.

"It was April – I was wearing a coat when I left home. He might have seen the dress, but not that it was backless."

"He does seem to have access to your schedule." Gibbs remarked, "and if our systems are intact – the question becomes where could he have got it from? He could be on your detail, or an agent here?" He threw the idea out as though it were a challenge, checking that she was still thinking. She lifted her head and stared back, saying coldly,

"I hope I'm not wrong in assuming that was one of the first things you checked."

"About 10 seconds after we realised you were at risk," he took a sip of his coffee and then, surprisingly, handed the cup to her. She took a long swallow, wrinkling her nose at the strength of the brew, but grateful for the kick it provided. "So, we know he's close – but he's not here. Why not?" It was McGee who answered, seeing the logical progression in the question.

"Maybe he was turned down in the application process?" He hit some keys on the computer; "I'm checking the names at the lecture against a list of applicants of open slots here."

"And who here thinks the Director isn't going to be a good recruitment tool," Tony said, almost under his breath. She smiled at him, although Jethro didn't seem too amused at the remark. She took another sip of the coffee and then offered it back to Gibbs – who shook his head.

"Things must be bad if you're letting me keep the coffee," she commented.

"Got something," McGee was scrolling through a list of names, with pictures. Abby leaned close, reading over his shoulder.

"Looks like you are good for recruitment Director, applications were up following your lecture."

"Which doesn't really help." Ziva pointed out, although McGee didn't seem to hear.

"Hang on – OK, only a couple of people who applied after the lecture were turned down and one application was withdrawn."

"Withdrawn?" Gibbs looked interested in that, "he get a better offer?"

"You could say that," McGee read the data before him, "Captain Bradley Fraiser – he's currently attached to Sec Nav's office."

"Well, I guess we know how he managed to get to the opera," Tony drawled.

"Let's pick him up." Gibbs was already moving when Jen came to her senses and shook off her surprise.

"Agent Gibbs!" She followed him out of Abby's lab and he paused before turning back to her. Around them, the rest of his team skittered to a halt.

"I'll catch up with you," he said sending them on their way. "Don't tell me to tread carefully Jen, we aren't playing politics on this."

"You've got nothing to link him to the murders." She reminded him.

"Fine, we'll tell him we're checking out everyone who was at the lecture and who is still on the east coast. I'm sure Sec Nav won't mind."

"And you'll be your normal subtle, respectful self?"

"I don't have time to be subtle – and don't even think about calling ahead to give your boss the heads up. We don't know what systems this guy might have set up to monitor calls from you."

"Do you really think it's him?"

"Who the hell knows – I'm trying to find out."

"Be careful," she said quietly, but he was already out of ear shot. She leant back against the wall and closed her eyes, just for a moment. She knew what this meant, that his gut was telling him he was onto something – and heaven help anyone who got in his way. She sighed and then opened her eyes, almost jumping at coming face to face with a concerned looking Abby. "Hi Abby," she said weakly, knowing that her moment of weakness and her conversation with Gibbs had just been witnessed.

"Are you OK?"

"I've had better weeks."

"When it happened to me," she looked down at her feet and Jen was surprised at how difficult the younger woman was finding this. "It took me a while to realise that it wasn't my fault. Director - this isn't your fault, OK?"

"OK," she managed a small smile, which apparently gave Abby the courage to continue.

"Gibbs is – he's worried and getting angry is his way of showing it." She'd almost started to point out that actually Gibbs didn't treat everyone the way he treated Abby when she added, "he won't let you get hurt, he won't let anything bad happen to you." She knew that he would do anything to protect a member his team, but she wasn't sure where she stood with him these days and she wasn't comfortable about needing his help and protection.

"I know you believe that Abby, but the truth is, bad things have happened already."

"Talk to me McGee," they were standing outside a nondescript apartment building in late afternoon. Tony was lounging against his car wearing an expression of boredom that was likely to earn him a slap on the back of the head quite soon, Ziva was scanning the perimeter – probably calculating potential threats and McGee had just come concluded a phone call.

"Boss – Fraiser left work at lunchtime today, he said he'd had bad news about his family." None of them believed that, it was far more likely he had realised they were coming for him. Gibbs glanced to his right. "DiNozzo?"

"Fifth floor boss – he's lived here for a year, apartment's a rental and the landlord says he's quiet, keeps himself to himself."

"They always say that. Car?"

"Jeep. It's not here." Gibbs looked around him; this was a perfect location for someone who wanted to go unnoticed. Most people who lived here were out at work during the day and wrapped up in their own lives when they were home. That told him something already, choosing to live somewhere like this was a statement of sorts.

They'd gathered other information before heading over here and though he'd been impatient, the effort was worth it. They knew that Fraiser was part of the team within Sec Nav's office handling Congressional liasion – and that he was good at it. His evaluations described an intelligent, driven man who had trouble connecting with others. He'd attended the Naval War College for a semester before this attachment, where he'd come across the Lt. who was still residing in their secure area and who wasn't talking. They had also learned that over the last two months Fraiser had been increasingly absent, claiming medical treatment for a busted knee. Something else none of them believed.

"There are no red flags on his record" McGee said, "there's nothing to indicate that he'd…"

"Kill 3 women because of an obsession with our Director. What were you expecting probie, lifetime membership of 'psychos are us?'" Gibbs knew what McGee was looking for, but he didn't think they could spare the time to try to work out what had turned Fraiser into a monster and he wasn't sure he cared.

"Let's just find him shall we – you can ask him what made him do it when we have him locked up."

Fraiser wasn't answering his front door, which wasn't entirely shocking. Gibbs thought it was unlikely that Sec Nav would let a threat to the Director of NCIS pass without requesting frequent updates. Which meant that up until recently their suspect had access to a lot of information about the state of their investigation.

"No one home." DiNozzo looked over at him, "we going in?"

"Do you hear something" Gibbs enquired of his team, "maybe a scream?"

"Definitely a scream," Ziva agreed, never one for waiting around.

The door gave way after a couple of good kicks and they moved swiftly from room to room, determining that the small apartment was indeed empty. Only when they were satisfied of this did they look at their surroundings.

"I think we've found our guy," DiNozzo said, and if the photographs of the Director of NCIS covering one wall were anything to go by, he had a point. "How the hell did he get this close to her, this often, without someone noticing?" It was a question Gibbs didn't want to think about right now, instead he issued instructions – making sure the team searched thoroughly, they couldn't afford to miss anything.

But as they worked he found his attention drawn back to the photographs. The more he looked at them the more he realised that it wasn't just a random assortment of images. The choices had been deliberate, catching Jen in every possible mood – including a shot of the two of them, when her mood was one he personally described as, 'I'm pissed at you Jethro, but I'm not going to let you have the last word.'

Perhaps these images had been enough for Fraiser, at least for a while. But they had also fed his hunger and obsession. He'd call it love, of course. Maybe even claim that being prepared to kill for her was proof of just how much he loved her. Gibbs knew that while he would catch this guy, sooner or later, there was nothing he could do to prevent Jen from being damaged by this. It was already too late for that.

He cast one more look at the photograph; there they were, a moment frozen on the wall of a madman. He couldn't even remember what they had been arguing about. But this time, when he looked at her, he noticed what he hadn't seen with his first glance. She was beautiful. He couldn't remember the last time he'd looked at her and simply seen a beautiful woman. She was the Director – sometimes his ally, more often his enemy. She'd been his partner and had lived through any number of dangers with him. The charred remnants of their relationship could still cause him pain – like a dull ache in his knee when the weather was cold and wet.

He seldom looked, really looked at her. And now he knew why.

"Boss?" How long had DiNozzo been standing at his shoulder, "you OK?" He didn't even bother answering that.

"Let's get on with the search," he said brusquely, as though it had been Tony he'd caught day-dreaming.

It took almost two hours before they found anything. Tucked away in a file of utility bills McGee found photographs of half a dozen other women, all of whom bore a hint of a resemblance to Jen. There was no identifying information with them, but it didn't take much to conclude that Fraiser had marked them down as future victims.

"You think he's taken someone else already?" Ziva asked, as they looked at the photographs spread out across the desk.

"He must know we're looking for him. He'll be angry, he doesn't think he's done anything wrong. The Director's the one resisting him, she…" He stopped, seeing the puzzled looks of the others, but not caring at this precise moment. He found his cell and dialled Jen's number. He needed her to be at NCIS – because he suddenly had a very bad feeling. Her cell phone was off and he didn't even bother leaving her a message, punching in the speed dial number that would get him through to her office. "Where is she!" He demanded for the second time in as many days.

"The Director left about 10 minutes ago, she said she needed to collect some clothes and papers from home and…" He cut off whatever she was about to say, too intent on what his gut was telling him.

"McGee, stay here – secure the apartment. Get help with shipping this stuff back to Abby. You two, with me." Ziva and DiNozzo followed him out, both running to keep up with him. "The Director's gone home. I'm sure she has her detail with her, but Fraiser's going to be mad if he thinks she sent us after him."

Gibbs moved carefully, pushing open the front door that he had already established was ajar. It was dark outside and there were no lights on inside the house. He reached for a light switch and wasn't surprised when nothing happened. He took another step forward and glass crunched under his foot - which explained why the lights weren't working. Since arriving to find a agent with his head blown off just outside the Director's car, this was the first indication he'd had that Jen was alive. He'd seen her shoot out lights on streets, in dilapidated buildings and once, memorably, in a very expensive hotel. And he was the person who'd taught her the tactic.

They'd been a few minutes away from the house when they'd received word that the emergency alarm in her house had been activated. Back up was on the way, but one member of her two agent detail was dead, the other was missing. They couldn't wait. He'd sent Ziva round to the back of the house; DiNozzo was to his right. He shifted the gun in his hand – knowing that now they needed to find Jen.

"Identify yourself," her voice was low and quiet, but the instruction was clear. Something in her tone made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"It's Gibbs." There was a long silence and then she said,

"He blew Crosby's brains out right in front of me Jethro. I couldn't do anything."

"Is he still here?"

"I'm not sure, he was waiting for us in the driveway. Is it him, the guy from Sec Nav's office?"

"Looks that way."

"He did this to teach me a lesson, didn't he? So I know that he has control."

"He doesn't have control Jen." She turned on a flashlight and he saw that she was sitting on the stairs, her gun on her knees. He had no doubt that she had identified this as a good, defensible position and he guessed she'd used her superior knowledge of the house to knock out the lights, leaving her opponent blind, while she went for the emergency supplies. Smart, very smart. But this wasn't the moment to compliment her on her tactics.

There was a smudge of something on her cheek and as he stepped towards her he noticed a large stain in the centre of her shirt. It was blood.

TBC