A/N: Gosh, I can't believe I haven't posted in almost two months… Usual excuse, work and studies... Once more, thank you very much for your reviews, they're greatly appreciated. Cheers love, for the beta-reading and the patience!

"I'll never, ever complain about your driving again, Ziva." Dinozzo leant against the car's door just for a few seconds, waiting for his stomach to settle down. "After all this racing, you seem to drive like a rural old granny."

"Don't push it, Tony." Ziva's eyes searched for their boss. "Let's go, he's already ringing the bell."

Tony grimaced and walked around the car, following Ziva into the building. Gibbs was already at the doorstep, ringing the doorbell insistently.

"That won't make us very popular, Boss," Tony pointed out as the screechy bell filled the air again for about twenty seconds.

He was saved by a voice coming through the intercom. "Yes?"

"NCIS," Gibbs replied hastily.

"You'll probably have to explain what it means, Boss…" Tony whispered.

"No need!" Ziva exclaimed as the door unlocked. She pushed it and they entered, ignoring the lift and climbing the stairs all the way up to the third floor.

An old woman was waiting for them at the landing outside her doorstep, looking quite puzzled about why three federal agents had decided to pay her a visit. She remained silent as they arrived at the last steps.

"Special Agent Gibbs, this is Special Agent DiNozzo and Officer David, NCIS." Gibbs flashed his badge, quickly followed by Tony and Ziva.

"That stands for Naval Crim-" Tony began.

"Naval Criminal Investigation Service, I know. Although it didn't have the 'C' back then."

"We're looking for Mr Peter Rosenberg," Gibbs cut in impatiently.

"He's… he's just arrived. What's the matter?"

"May we have a word with him… Mrs Rosenberg?" Ziva risked.

The woman nodded.

"So, was it really a prank, honey?" A man around the same age appeared on the doorstep, wearing a dressing gown over a casual shirt and trousers. Seeing them, he moved near his wife, landing his hand on her shoulder.

"No… they're the real thing."

"Peter Rosenberg?"

"Yes?"

"Come with us." Gibbs uttered, making Ziva and Tony exchange discrete but quite surprised glances.

"Where?" The old man eyed him confusedly.

"Our headquarters, Washington Navy Yard."

"On what grounds, may I ask?"

"We've got a few questions regarding a murder enquiry," Ziva asked before Gibbs become too temperamental.

"What?" Mrs Rosenberg gasped.

"I'm sure you got the wrong person, I know nothing about-"

"That's for us to decide." Gibbs stepped forward.

"Ok! But I'm pretty sure you'll figure out very soon I'm not the person you're looking for. Can I at least grab a coat?"

"Make it quick."

"Peter…" Mrs Rosenberg handed him a coat hanging near the door and grabbed the dressing gown that he was handing to her.

"Calm down, Helen. I'll be back for dinner, I'm sure. This is just a big mess."

"Helen?" Ziva stared at the old woman.

"Yes…?"

"Could you tell us your maiden name, Mrs Rosenberg?" Tony asked.

"Becket. Why are you interested?"

"Did you happen to live at Quantico Base?"

"Yes, I did. Until I got married. Can someone please ex-"

"Bring her too," Gibbs rushed, making sure Peter Rosenberg was following him down the stairs. Still exchanging discreet glances, Ziva and Tony conducted the perplexed Helen Rosenberg right after them.

"Found it!" McGee reached for his mobile phone, speed-dialling Gibbs' number.

"DiNozzo speaking."

He stared at the phone's screen just to make sure he had dialled the correct number. "Tony, why're you answering Boss's phone?"

"Because he tossed it at me. What do you want?"

"I've traced Helen Becket and you're not going to believe this. She married Peter Rosenberg and is in Manassas-"

"Wrong. She's right here in the car's backseat, heading over there."

"You found out that too? Ok… Hang on! Why are you bringing her here?"

"Because Boss thought it'd be better this way."

"Right… I'll prepare the conference room then."

"Ducky? May I?"

"Come in, we've finished already." Ducky removed the latex gloves and moved towards the sink, washing his hands. "Mr Palmer, would you deliver these papers to Agent Lee when you leave? Yes, Abigail? Oh, and please, store Petty Officer Lopez before you go, Mr Palmer."

Abby walked by him, her heavy boots echoing all over the autopsy room. Behind her, Palmer was moving a body into the fridge. She leant against the wall near the sink.

Palmer closed the fridge's door and grabbed some papers from the desk. "On my way, Dr Mallard."

"What can I do for you?" Ducky asked again.

She made sure that Palmer was no longer in the room. "What was that in the meeting?"

"What do you mean, my dear?"

"You know. The Director. The floor. The Director almost hitting the floor. How's she?"

"Oh, that…" Ducky grabbed a piece of paper and dried his hands. "She's alright."

"Is she? That was so… weird. And not 'weird' in a good sense, 'weird' in a… weird sense."

"You know how our Director is. Too much work and not enough rest."

"Is she really ok? And besides her…? Is it ok too?"

"I'm not sure about what you're referring to… Abigail." The doctor took off the disposable coat covered in blood stains.

Abby looked to her side and frowned while trying to find a better way to explain, although doing it without revealing too much was a bit of a challenge. "You remember the blood sample I had in my lab? The one with no identification?"

"Yes, I do."

"You've talked about it… with her, haven't you?"

"I have. Oh, I see... 'It' is fine too."

"Is it?" Abby smiled broadly. "Oh my gosh, I was so scared! It'd have been so sad if something bad had happened!"

"No need to worry anymore."

"Whew, thanks a lot, Ducky! Now I can work properly. I must go back to my lab. See ya!"

"Bye, Abby."

The Goth scientist turned on her feet with a lot of noise coming from her bracelets and necklaces. She had barely reached the door when she turned back.

"Ducky?"

"Yes?"

"Please tell me it's a Gibblet. It has to be a Gibblet!"

"That goes beyond my knowledge, Abigail." Ducky meant to drop the subject but Abby had no intention to do so.

"Oh come on, you weren't there when McGee ran Gibbs and the Director's photos on that morphing program to create a daughter. She was way too cute!"

"I believe she was-"

"Ducky! Red hair and blue eyes!"

"Yes, Abigail. I believe you."

"Here are the files you asked for, madam."

"Thank you. You may leave them here." Jenny looked up at her assistant over her spectacles.

"And Agent Gibbs and his team are back already."

"Are they? So soon? You sure?"

"I asked security to phone me as soon as they crossed the entrance door, madam. As you had requested."

"Yes, yes. Alright then. You may go, Cynthia. It's past 1900."

"Thank you, madam."

Jenny waited until she left. She took her spectacles and massaged her tired eyes, preparing herself for what was coming next. Carefully, she leant down in search for her discarded shoes. After stepping into them, she rose from the chair, her hands still going to the edge of the table for support.

The high heels made it all more complicated. Despite not feeling so weak anymore, her entire body was sore and her legs tired. But at least she wasn't wobbling anymore. Feeling confident again, she walked to the door in small steps.

"So… what's the situation?" McGee asked as he took his place behind the one-way window next to the interrogation room.

"No idea," Tony answered at his side.

"He's a suspect?"

"No idea."

"Can't you clarify the situation, Tony?"

"I'm afraid I can't, Elflord. Boss looked like he was on a rush to get back so he dragged the oldtimers from Manassas to here. The wife is downstairs having a heart attack with only Ziva as company. Quite a sad way to go…"

"She's calmer." Ziva appeared on the doorstep, entering the room.

"What've you done to her?"

"Nothing, Tony. Just a glass of sugared water. Has he started already?" She walked near the other two agents and stared at the interrogation room. "Where's Gibbs?"

"He shoved Rosenberg in there and made a disappearing act on me," Tony elucidated her.

"After all that rush?"

"Yeah. Go figure…" Tony made a small pause. "So, what the hell was that in the meeting? For a moment I thought Jenny was going to smash herself on the ground!"

"She lost her balance. She said that," McGee answered.

"I heard her too. All the same, she was too hard on Boss. He was just… worried. And it's certainly not like him to even show it that way."

"She never liked people worrying over her," Ziva said.

"Heck, even I was worried."

"You don't resent her anymore?"

"What do you mean, Ziva?"

"You know. Jeanne."

"It's all water under the bridge. And that's a saying, by the way."

"You haven't answered my question though."

"Maybe I don't want to."

Jenny turned towards the narrow corridors that led to the interrogation room. Everyone in the bullpen had informed her that Gibbs and his team has been seen taking someone there, which had surprised her at first but now she was eager to know what had they found.

Someone collided quite painfully into her as she was passing by the corner. While massaging her abused shoulder and arm, she recognised the other person.

"Jethro! Why the rush?"

"What're you doing here?" he asked promptly, not hiding his irritation.

"I work here."

"Why aren't you not in your office, resting? Want to fall again, Jen?"

"Of course not! I'm fine now. Who did you bring in? Peter Rosenberg?"

He trapped her against the wall. "What the hell was that, Jen?" he asked almost in a whisper.

"I lost my balance. How many times do I need to repeat myself?"

"That wasn't just dizziness. You weren't even able to stand on your feet. And why did you kick me out like that?"

"I didn't kick you out. You had work to do-"

"Work that could've been done by my team."

"… and I wasn't as bad as you thought so. There was no point in you staying."

"Not even the fact I care for you? That you're carrying my child? Damn it Jen, did you really have to throw me out as if I didn't matter at all?"

She looked around, trying to spot someone else in the corridor apart from them. Relieved not to see anyone, she turned her gaze to him.

"You know you do."

"Do I?"

"This is hardly the place to have this conversation. We'll finish it later, back at my house."

"You can be sure we will."

Jenny stepped away from the wall, forcing him to let her go. "Where were you going in such a hurry anyway?"

"To your office. To see you."

"Well, I'm here now. What did you want?"

"Ask you how you were feeling."

"I'm fine. See? Fine. Now, who's in the interrogation room?"

"Peter Rosenberg. And Helen Becket is in the conference room."

"Where have you found her?" she asked surprised.

"Same place as Rosenberg. They're married."

"Are they? I didn't see that one coming."

"No-one did."

"You're going to start the interview?"

"Yeah."

"Good, let's go then." She meant to walk towards the room but was halted on her tracks by a grip on her wrist.

"You're sure you're ok?"

"I am. Now let's go, already."

"Bosses coming," McGee alerted from the doorstep, entering back in the side-room.

"Did I detect a plural in there?" Tony asked.

"You did."

"Excuse me." Jenny entered the room almost at the same time as Gibbs appeared in the interrogation room. She took her place between McGee and DiNozzo.

"Er, you're ok, madam?" the younger agent asked.

"I am. Thanks for your concern."

"You gave us quite a scare, Jenny. I mean, Director," Tony corrected himself.

"There was no need. But thank you. So, what've we got so far?"

Tony was cut by Rosenberg's voice in the other room.

"May I finally know the reason why am I here, Agent Gibbs?"

"Four reasons, actually," Gibbs grabbed the plasma remote and switched it on. "Laura Carlson, Holly Davidson, Clarice Murphy and… Christine Andersen."

The old man's eyes opened wide at the last photo.

"Christine? What…? She died a long time ago!"

"Yes. But we have reason to believe she can be connected to some recent murders."

"Fifty years later?"

"Yes. Apart from Andersen, do you recognise any other victim?"

"She was a lovely girl. Quite bright and intelligent, I dare to say."

"Get Ducky here, Agent David," Jenny said, stepping forward towards the mirror as if trying to get near the two men.

"Ducky?" Ziva repeated.

"Yes. Ducky."

"Ok. Back in a minute."

"Did you know her?"

"'Course I did. Her family lived right across us. We were childhood sweethearts."

"And yet you end up marrying her best friend."

"Helen? Yes. Christine died before marriage even crossed our minds."

"Must've been quite a shock, no? Her death."

"It was. To everyone who knew her. Are you investigating her death after all this time? Is that it? I thought, we all thought it had been an accident…"

"Mr Rosenberg, we believe her death might be connected to a row of recent murders occurring at the base. These women were found dead in the las-"

"You think she was murdered too?"

"You sent for me, Director?" Ducky entered the room, followed by Ziva.

Jenny turned towards him.

"I need your professional opinion."

"Sure. In what field? That's Mr Rosenberg, I presume."

"Indeed. There's something bothering me, Ducky."

Tony, McGee and Ziva exchanged a curious look,

"Jethro's tried twice to focus on the recent victims and Rosenberg ignored him, changing the subject back to Christine Andersen. There was absolutely no reaction to the victim's photos apart from-"

"Christine."

"Yes."

"That's interesting," Ducky examined the man in the adjacent room.

"Is it? I find it a bit creepy. The woman's been dead for fifty years and no-one shuts up about her. Almost like that movie Rebecca. All that's missing is the crazy housekeeper," Tony blurted out, earning looks from everyone in the room.

"If only Jethro tried to call his attention again just for us to sure…" Ducky continued.

"He kills everyone who interrupts him," McGee recalled.

"Maybe there's no need," Jenny remarked as Gibbs formed his next question.

"Given the way the bodies were arranged and disposed-"

"There was some scuttlebutt… rumours about her death not being accidental back in the day. Not that I gave them some credit. Poor Christine was gone already, there was nothing else we could do for her."

"Denial is a powerful weapon, Director."

Jenny nodded, her mind ticking around the case.

"What's he denying though? Her death or the three recent victims?" McGee asked.

"I'd risk saying… both. In different ways. He's obviously ignoring the recent ones, like they didn't matter at all. And about Christine… I think her death affected him more deeply than he's saying."

"Can you tell all of that just by staring at the man for a couple of minutes?" Tony asked, frankly curious.

"It's not carved in stone, Anthony. But I dare say, in the end, we're all much more similar, much more textbook than what we like to think."

"Do you think it can be him?" Jenny asked.

"Denial is a mechanism of defence, Director, not exactly a motivation for murder. We all suffer from it to a certain degree in our lives."

"Yes, but do you think it's possible?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. I can't really tell yet."

"His wife is downstairs. I think a few words with her are in order. Dr Mallard, Officer David, follow me. Ziva, bring a copy of the case file, please."

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