"Now, let's see here then... Oh." Ducky, in the course of examining the body, had paused upon reaching the dead man's left hand. "I must apologize to you, Mr. Palmer; it seems I was remiss to so quickly dismiss your theory."

"My theory, Doctor?"

"Yes, you had suggested that it was suicide."

Palmer blinked. "But, the murder weapon..."

"I would have to check with Abigail, but I would hazard a guess that the scene was tampered with after our dear J.G.'s demise." Here he took hold of the left arm and held it indicatively for Palmer's benefit. "You see the flex here in the wrist? It indicates he was gripping something when he died."

"But he wasn't holding anything," Palmer put in, confused.

"Precisely. Which means..." Ducky prompted.

"The scene was tampered with," they said together.

"Excuse me?" came a female voice close by, jarring McGee from his thoughts. He looked up to see a young blonde woman, apparently in her mid-twenties, standing nervously by his desk, a visitor's badge pinned to the lapel of her suit jacket.

"Can I help you, Miss?"

"Are you... Agent Gibbs?" she asked uncertainly.

"Uh, no. Um, he's... somewhere." McGee shook himself out of his stupor and apologized quickly, "Sorry. What did you need him for?"

"I'm Laura Knight. I was told to come here; it was something about Paul. Is he okay?"

McGee stood awkwardly. "Please, come with me. So we can discuss this in a more comfortable setting."

Laura bit her lip but followed him as he led her into a conference room.

"Come on, come on, what's wrong with you?" Abby complained.

"No good news, I take it?" Ducky asked as he walked into her lab, a Caf-Pow in hand.

"Ooh." Her eyes lit up as she took the cup from Ducky, sparing him a smile before turning back to the monitor she was telling off. "No, it's this scene reconstruction; it won't make sense," she explained absently as she took a long draught from the straw. "I mean, according to this, the only realistic way for the scene to match up with these photos is if a hurricane blew through the room at the exact moment that he shot himself in the head."

"I see," Ducky offered. "If that's the case, I believe we've discovered the most probable reason for him to do so."

"We found evidence that he had liver cancer," Palmer cut in.

"I can confirm that," McGee spoke as he entered behind them. "His girlfriend just told me about it. Well, ex-girlfriend; apparently it had spread and he was terminal so she broke up with him earlier today."

"How much earlier today?" Abby wondered aloud. "If she was there with him–"

"Maybe she did it!" Palmer exclaimed

"Again, jumping the gun," Ducky lamented with a sigh. "Mr. Palmer, kindly quiet your wild imagination while we try to get to the bottom of this. Rationally."

"It was this morning when she last saw him; she had stopped by on her way to work," McGee informed them.

"So if anyone saw her there around the time of death..." Abby trailed off.

McGee nodded. "She was giving a presentation today, so her alibi is airtight."

Danielle glowered at the man she despised more than any other in this world as he pulled out the chair across from her, a file folder in hand. Taking his seat, he flipped open the folder on the table and glanced at the information. "Danielle."

"Yes."

"Yes, sir," he corrected her.

"There's no need to call me 'sir', professor," she quipped, snickering to herself as she wondered who in observation would get the reference.

"Do you think this is a game?"

Danielle leaned back for a moment, her teeth snagging her lip as she tried to hold back a smile.

Vance took her silence as a refusal to answer and switched tack. "Why are you here?"

"To get my cup," she replied immediately.

"What cup?"

"The one they found at the crime scene."

"So you were there."

"Not until after."

"Then how did it get there before you?"

"Palkia."

"What?"

Danielle rolled her eyes. "I'll tell you the same thing I told Gibbs: if you want to get any of it at all, you should really have Agent McGee in here. You may have his technical know-how, but you do lack a couple of things... like a teaspoon and an open mind." Here she couldn't suppress a grin.

"What do you know about my Agent?"

"Not your Agent."

"Excuse me?"

"Agent McGee is not yours, he's Gibbs'." Here Danielle crossed her arms, daring him to contradict her, though her gaze drifted to the mirror behind him. Vance noticed the shift in her attention and leaned to the side to block her view, causing her to huff in annoyance. "Can't deny it. You tried to break up the family once. No way they'd let you claim one of theirs."

"That's not your concern. I am the director of NCIS, and the decisions I make are law. And if you think that you can come in here corrupting my best agent–"

"Corrupting?" Danielle interrupted Vance's tirade, sitting upright as she bristled. "You're accusing me of corruption? You?" She leaned forward across the table to whisper for a few seconds before her voice rose in pitch to be clearly audible, "on the day of Jenny's funeral?!"

The agents gathered in observation were dumbstruck as they watched Vance rise and silently exit the room, leaving Danielle visibly shaking with rage and emotion.

A/N: Yeah, I know, another year gone and still only one chapter added. Sorry again. I'll probably fiddle around with the author's note here (and maybe add one at the beginning) later, but I need to post this chapter before MysteryFan17's birthday is over in a couple hours.

What did you think? :D

Edit - 5/22: navygeek101, thank you so much for pointing out our mistake! Mysteryfan17 facepalmed when I showed her your review. We have since edited the few mentions of the late Paul Brown's rank to more accurately reflect his standing.