A/N: Sorry for such a late update, everything got in the way these last weeks, but now I'm back. Hope you enjoy! Darling, once more, thank you.

"For how many centuries have the people in this base been throwing things into this room?" Ziva asked the moment their torches illuminated the store room. The shelves were so full of every sort of boxes and material that it was impossible to see the other side. The floor wasn't very different either. Some of the boxes had probably fallen from the shelves during the years and its contents were now spread on the floor. The broken light switch clearly indicated there was no light.

"What a sty! And it probably has rats!" DiNozzo grumbled while the light beam of his torch wandered through the room.

"I guess you'll need thicker gloves then," Gibbs deadpanned.

Both Ziva and DiNozzo grimaced at him.

"I believe there are some in the van," he added, switching off his torch and heading for the doors, leaving his two agents looking at the shelves in disgust.

"No way I'm going through all that marine garbage!" DiNozzo exclaimed the moment Gibbs disappeared.

"I guess you have to, Tony."

"Where's McGee when you need him? This is a Probie's work, not a Senior Agent's!"

"Examining that broken down camera."

"Nice. I hope it has just a quarter of all the bacteria stuck inside this room."

"You are a mean man, Anthony DiNozzo."

"Nah. Did you hear that?" Tony's eyes wandered around them.

"What?"

"I could swear I heard rats moving!"

"It's just your imagination."

"Like it was in that ghost ship, you mean?"

"I always said there was something else on that ship, remember? Oh, go to hell. No, hang on. Go get the thicker gloves instead."

"Who's the Senior Agent in here, Officer David?"

"Who's got the combat skills?"

"Fine. Let's decide this as grown-ups. Rock-Paper-Scissors!"

Jenny had found a wonderful way of entertaining herself while waiting for Abby to show up with the results. Report reading had been pushed aside, since it only made her stare at the clock every time she reached the end of the paragraph. Gibbs would certainly be grumpy if he knew that she was muscling in on his case, but she didn't care. Investigation had always been her favourite work in the agency.

In front of her, spread onto the desk, was a Quantico Base blueprint she had printed earlier, marking the three bodies' dumping areas. A big red triangle united them and she was now concentrated on the area inside it. But it covered a large part of the base and very diverse facilities, offices and even a garden and part of the training area.

"The places must be significant…" she muttered to herself. "You wanted them to be found, didn't you? That's why you dumped them with such audacity… Nice, now I'm talking to myself. Whoever said that this job would get me insane was right."

Distracted, she reached for a pencil in her desk and bit the end of it. Her other hand fetched the case file and she took out the victim's photos, placing them on top of each crime scene marked on the blueprint.

The outfits were intriguing her and she was certain that there weren't picked randomly, but she couldn't figure them out. A question crossed her mind and she turned to the file, looking for the answer. She turned the pages quickly until she found the analysis of the victim's clothes. She read the description and grabbed the nearest photo, looking at it closely.

Moved by a hunch, Jenny turned to her computer and ran a search in both Google and NCIS search engine.

"C'mon Ziva, give me a hand here!" Tony shouted, trying to stop a large box from falling onto his head.

"What, again?"

"The damn place is falling apart!"

Ziva rolled her eyes and jumped off the shelf she had been hanging from, trying to reach the top.

"Look on the bright side. I'm sure all your dear mice have fled by now, scared by all this noise." She placed her hands on the bottom of the box, securing it.

"Right, now help me put it on the floor."

Ziva was about to do so when she felt her gloves getting wet. "Damn, it's leaking someething!"

The box hit the floor with a small bang as Ziva removed her hands.

"Be careful, it could be evidence!" Tony admonished.

"Switch your torch on."

He did as she said. The light beam illuminated her face.

"Point it there."

"What's that?" he asked as he saw some liquid in her now discarded gloves.

"Don't know."

"Better go wash your hands, no? We've got no idea of how long that crap's been stored here."

"Or what that crap is. Back in a moment."

As Ziva left, Tony turned his attention to the box. Luckily, it wasn't leaking at the top, just at the bottom. He opened it and pointed the light inside. A smell of old materials and humidity quickly reached his nostrils.

"Lovely…" He slid his glove-covered hand and grabbed the nearest object, bringing it to the light. At first sight it looked like a package but the years had faded the letters and the colours, forcing Tony to take another one from the box. This one was pretty deteriorated as well but at least he could read the label, and he recognised it at once.

"So, what have you got?" Ziva's steps echoed in the store room as she came back.

"How's your hands?"

"Fine, it didn't get through the gloves. What's that?"

"A lot of old Mark I NAAK. Do you know what that is?"

"Those antidote kits, right?"

"Yeah."

"Haven't they been replaced already?"

"Yes, these are probably rotting since Basic Instinct came out. What a mess…"

"Tony…" Ziva called, suddenly seriously.

"Yeah?"

"What kind of drugs was in those kits?"

"I don't know… What, you think that…"

"Call Abby now and ask her."

The phone rang as soon as the printout was ready, giving Abby no time to read it.

"Yeah? Tony?"

"Abby, I need a favour."

"Of course you do. Fire away."

"The Mark I NAAK kits, you know them?"

"Yeah, I do. What about them?" Abby secured the mobile phone between her chin and her shoulder, freeing her hands to get the printout.

"I need to know what they're made of. The components."

"Alright, give me a few moments," she dropped the phone and the paper near the computer and reached for the keyboard, typing hastily.

"Nerve Agent Antidote Kit, better know as Mark I NAAK, show me your secrets… eh!" she grabbed the phone again. "Tony, you there? Right, there are a lot of components in the kits medicines but I'm sure you only want to hear about one. Atropine sulphate."

On the other side of the line, Tony whistled.

"The atropine sulphate is used against some toxic chemical substances."

"Or innocent marine's wives."

"Bring me a sample. But are you sure you've found the right atropine? Don't forget that the one I took from Clarice Murphy was rotten."

"You don't get more rotten than this one here, trust me."

"Sample me then." Abby's eyes finally wandered to the paper next the computer, grabbing it.

"I will. See ya, Abs."

"Tony, wait!" she called, staring at the paper in front of her.

"Yeah?"

"Add fifty bucks to my bet."

Gibbs frowned as his mobile phone rang for what seemed like the Nth time that day but a quick look at the caller's ID softened him. Leaving McGee busy with the camera, he exited the building.

"Gibbs. I hope you just called to say that you miss me."

"Actually, no. But I do miss you."

"So whom am I talking to? Jenny or the Director?"

"Don't mock me, Jethro. I have information for you. About the case."

"What?"

"I'll go straight to the point. In 1957 a young woman was found dead at the base."

"And what does it have to do with my case?"

"She died of atropine poisoning."

"What're you suggesting? That we have fifty year gap in these murders?"

"I don't know. But something tells me that they're related. Somehow."

"Tell me about that murder."

"Christine Andersen, aged twenty three, found dead at her own house. The picture took in '57 is old, but I could see a resemblance to your victims."

"Wait a minute, what was that name again?"

"Christine Andersen. Ring any bells?"

"Not particularly, but I know someone who might."

"Good."

"And, Jen? How did you get to this?"

"I read in the case file that the clothes found on the victim's, besides not being theirs, were pretty old. I just wondered if they belonged to someone else, someone the killer knew and was important to him in some twisted way. It lead me to think that these might not be his first murders, so I just ran a search about occurrences in the base from 1950 to 1970. This was the only one that struck me as similar."

"So you've been muscling in on my investigation?"

"Bye, Jethro. See you later."

Jenny put the phone down. So typical of Gibbs, to complain instead of thanking her.

A knock on her door called her attention. "Yes?"

"It's Abby. Madam."

"Come in." Jenny felt a sudden turn in her stomach.

Abby appeared in the doorway, holding a file.

"Don't just stay there, come inside." Jenny pointed her to one of the chairs across her large desk. "Just close the door behind you."

Abby did what she said. "I have your results, Director."

Jenny accepted the file and promptly opened it.

"I… have to go back to the lab, madam," Abby stammered.

Jenny just nodded, barely hearing the door being closed. Her eyes were wandering through the paper. Since she had been tested for just one thing, it didn't take long to find what she wanted.

She read it twice, just to make sure. And then a third time. Only then did those few words seem to make sense. 'Positive for Human chorionic gonadotropin.'

A wide smile appeared in her face and she leant back in her large chair, suddenly feeling such happiness as she hadn't felt for a very long time. Her first impulse was to phone Gibbs and tell him, but soon she realised it would be worth the wait just to see his expression. And she wanted to savour the moment just for a little longer.

Her hand reached for the discarded printout and she read it again, just to make sure she hadn't been mistaken. Relieved that she wasn't, Jenny let her mind wander to things that she had been denying herself for the past fifteen years.

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