A/N: RL has been brutal for the last few days, so I apologize to all my readers for making you wait so long for this! I sincerely hope you'll find it was worth the wait. A very special thank-you is due here to Schmaltzy for the lovely rec on your LJ site, and to Scousemuz1k for your steady support as I plough ahead with this most ambitious story! And to all my lovely readers - whether or not you choose to leave a review, I hope you are enjoying it.

Disclaimer: Canon characters belong to DPB and CBS. No copyright infringement is intended.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010 10:50 a.m.

"Damn!" Tony cursed, as the elevator doors glided shut in his face.

Gibbs was determined to keep him out of the loop, just when they were getting close to clearing Louisa. The logical part of Tony's brain understood this. There was no doubt he was biased, and would not examine the evidence as objectively as his teammates. He'd known it was coming. But that didn't make it any easier to accept that he wasn't allowed down there in Abby's lab.

With resignation, he headed back to his desk, wondering what he could do to distract himself until Gibbs deigned to let him in on what was going on. He wished he could call Pete, let him know how close they were to proving his sister innocent. But Gibbs would kick his butt to the other side of Sunday if he so much as dared pick up that phone. Gazing out the window at the view of the Anacostia River, his thoughts drifted back to the image of Louisa in that cold, stark jail cell. Little Louisa. Why had Pete never talked about her? He knew practically nothing about the younger Penachetti.

Absentmindedly, he called up the personnel file they'd used for her initial interview. It really didn't tell him very much. What was she like as a kid? What kind of friends did she have? What schools did she attend? What kind of boys did she date in high school? What about her first kiss? Her first time...? He gave his head a shake – best not to think about THAT.

He started a more in-depth background search on his computer, hoping to find something, no matter how small, to add to his understanding of this woman who had captivated him for some inexplicable reason. There wasn't much, but he did find a few high school photos, with captions. Then-Captain Hank Penachetti had been Commanding Officer of the Naval Air Station Joint Reserve Base New Orleans from 1994 to 1999. And there was Louisa, posing with the rest of the cross-country team at St. Mary's Dominican High School, an all-girls college-prep school. So, she was an athlete. Like him. He smiled as he took in the likeness of the young, fresh-faced kid, all spindly arms and legs.

There were also snapshots of her with the Foreign Language Club... the Color Guard... the Computer Club... and the Mu Alpha Theta Club. She'd been on the Mu Ciphering Team, placing 3rd in the 1995-1996 State Convention. She looked so cute in that little skirt and sweater combo! Strange... there didn't seem to be anything after December 1996... halfway through her Junior year... it was as if she'd moved to another school entirely. But she was listed among the graduates of 1998, so he knew that could not have been the case. Why had she seemingly abandoned all her extra-curricular activities at the age of 16?

10:55 a.m.

Abby was not at all surprised to see Gibbs and Ziva arrive in her lab. Gibbs had a way of appearing just at the moment when she had something major to tell him. And today was no exception.

"Gibbs! My baby has spoken, and I have major news!" Abby greeted him excitedly. "I was just about to call Tony – "

"DiNozzo's off this case, Abs. Whatcha got?" he queried, handing her the Caf-Pow that he'd dashed out for on the way down. He took a sip of his Starbucks coffee, and glanced at Abby, eyebrows raised.

"Mhmmmm..." Abby nodded knowingly. "I guess it would be a conflict of interest to be working on your girlfriend's murder investigation."

McGee, who had been sitting quietly in a corner puzzling over the trace results, suddenly glanced up with interest, eager to hear more. Ziva shot Abby a look that was half-assassin, half-wounded puppy. "Girlfriend? I think not."

Even as she denied it, the events of the past few days quickly replayed in Ziva's mind, and she wondered if Abby could be on to something. Tony had been acting strangely ever since their follow-up interview at the Petty Officer's apartment. She'd chalked it up to him being uncomfortable treating his best friend's sister as a suspect. But perhaps there was more to it than that? There had been plenty of innuendo in Tony and Ziva's relationship over the years, but nothing had ever been spoken. And then, of course, there was Rule # 12.

"Today, Abs?" Gibbs prodded impatiently.

"Ok, Gibbs, here's the deal. I found a strange residue on several of the items we lifted prints from – the wine glass and the bottle, and also on Halden's computer. So I decided to take some samples and run them through Major Mass Spec. And I found... this..." She keyed instructions into her computer, and the chemical composition of the substance appeared on the screen. "Rubber, protein, water, sterol glycosides, resins, ash and sugars... ammonia... calcium nitrate... hydrolyzed corn starch..."

Gibbs gave her a questioning glance.

"Latex, Gibbs. As in, latex gloves."

"Well, isn't that kind of obvious, Abs, since we wear gloves at the crime scene?"

"Ah, yes, but no-one on the team touched those particular surfaces – they had prints on them, so you wouldn't want to contaminate the evidence. Besides, these weren't the kind of gloves we use. See here" – she pointed to a couple of ingredients on the screen – "sodium hypochlorite and hydrochloric acid. We use powdered gloves, but these didn't have a powdered lubricant, they were chlorinated instead, giving them a slippery surface."

"I think I might know what this is," Ziva stated thoughtfully, staring at the screen. Abby and Gibbs both turned to her expectantly, and she continued. "Before I left the Mossad, around 2003, I remember being briefed about an experimental method of duplicating fingerprints using a small piece of latex attached to one's fingertip. The idea was to circumvent biometric security systems."

"Yeah, I remember reading about that!" Abby exclaimed. "These two German hackers presented it at the Chaos Computer Camp in East Berlin. With the right equipment, you can do it pretty much on the fly. You take a graphically enhanced digital image of the fingerprint, print it onto foil, and then transfer it onto a photosensitive printed circuit board. You expose the board and etch it to make a 3-D structure of the fingerprint, then you dip it in liquid latex, let it cool, and voila! Fake fingerprints. Very James Bond!"

"Abs, can you tell if anyone other than us accessed Petty Officer Penachetti's personnel file in the last few days?" Gibbs took a final gulp of his coffee and hunted around for a garbage can. McGee had by now abandoned his computer station and was standing directly behind his superior, taking in all the intrigue. He took the empty cup from Gibbs' hand, but didn't make a move toward the trash, instead watching intently as Abby navigated through the NSA computer systems. About five minutes later, she found what she was looking for.

"Someone hacked into her file at 18:10 hours on May 30th. I'm trying to trace it..." She furrowed her brow. "Whoever did this really covered their tracks... wait... got it!" They examined the plasma screen, and Ziva nodded. It was just as she'd expected. The hack had come from the Israeli Embassy, right here in Washington, D.C., a mere 1.5 hours after the encrypted transmission had been sent.

McGee remained standing there, transfixed, thoroughly enjoying watching Abby do her thing. He'd never admit it, but he still had a terrible crush on her, and he cherished every moment of the time spent working with her in the lab. He wasn't expecting the head slap. "McGee! Am I gonna get an answer on that trace sometime this century?"

"On it, Boss." Tim jumped back into action, tossing the empty Starbuck's cup into the trash next to the desk at which he was running a new program on the NSA communications system. They still had the link-up, and he was trying a different subroutine from the one Cyber Crimes had used, hoping to come up with a different result.

Abby anticipated Gibbs' next question, and began comparing the DNA from the short, blonde hair they'd found in Halpern's apartment, so far unidentified, against their database of known Mossad operatives. Ziva watched in fascination as the faces of her former compatriots flashed across the screen. She'd been on assignment with many of these people; she wondered if she herself might have been in this database at one time. It gave her an eerie feeling, and she shuddered involuntarily.

It didn't take long to get a hit. "I think we've found our killer," Abby declared victoriously. A very attractive, hazel-eyed blonde woman appeared on the plasma. She had long hair in the photo, but this didn't surprise Ziva, as it had been taken over a year ago. "Noreen Jessop," Abby read aloud. "Specialist in U.S.-Israeli relations, fluent in 10 languages, trained assassin."

"How tall is she, Abs?" Gibbs inquired.

Abby scanned the screen. " She's 5 feet 11 inches. Why? Is that important?"

Gibbs smiled. "Yeah. It's important. Now, if McGee ever gets his piece of this investigation finished, maybe we could actually let our Petty Officer out of that jail cell. Thanks Abs." He turned and headed back towards the elevator. "Ziva – "

"Put out a BOLO on Noreen Jessop. All ports of entry. I'm on it." She already had her cell phone pulled out and was dialling, as they stepped in and the doors glided shut.

"And send her photo over to the gun club, see if they I.D. her as the person who checked out the Glock."

Ziva nodded. Her mind was racing with questions, most of which she supposed would never be answered. How did the Mossad know that Louisa would be an appropriate scapegoat for the murder? Where did they get her hairs in order to plant them in Halpern's apartment? How long had Jessop been in the country, and was she still here? Did Halpern know her? (It seemed that he did, since they had apparently shared a glass of wine together).

Her stomach turned as she reflected on what had been done to Louisa. Setting aside momentarily the tinge of jealousy she felt for this woman, she was nevertheless revolted by the methods used by the Mossad in covering their tracks. They had come very close to ruining an innocent woman's life, simply as a device to buy time while they attempted to escape capture. Had it not been for Gibbs' persistence and instincts, their investigation would have looked no further than the Petty Officer, and Louisa would have been facing 20 years or more at Leavenworth. She hoped they would be able to stop Jessop before she got out of the country, so she'd have the opportunity to interrogate her.

12:33 p.m.

One by one, NCIS agents stepped aside as two Naval officers, father and son, marched purposefully towards the Interrogation room, visitor's badges prominently displayed although they had left their official escort in the dust. Rear Admiral Hank Penachetti stood 5'9" tall, was thinning on top, and had the same muscular build as his son. And he was on a mission. Only an hour ago, he'd learned that his daughter had, in fact, spent the night in a jail cell, and he was determined to find out why she was still being held. For his part, Captain Peter Penachetti was anxious to learn what 'new' evidence Supervisory Agent Gibbs had uncovered.

The phone call had been cryptic – Gibbs hadn't tipped his hand at all to indicate whether or not the latest revelations would help or hinder Louisa's situation. Pete would have to hear him out, and then decide what action could be taken under the circumstances. He wasn't holding out much hope of leaving here with his sister.

Tony was nowhere to be seen – Pete assumed he was now officially off the case. Gibbs met them in the hallway.

"Admiral."

"Where the hell is my daughter?" the elder Penachetti bellowed. He was tangling with the wrong man, and Pete knew it. Tony had been regaling him with stories about Gibbs' encounters with authority figures for the past five years, and he was well aware that his father was not going to win any battle he started with this man.

For his part, the former Marine remained perfectly calm. "She's right in there, Admiral," he stated matter-of-factly, nodding his head towards the door.

"Where's Vance? I want an explanation. On what grounds are you holding her?"

"She's been charged with unauthorized use of naval computer equipment, as well as sending false information to the government of Israel. Serious crimes. Unless and until we obtain additional evidence to the contrary, we'll continue to hold her on those charges."

Pete decided to jump in at this point. "Agent Gibbs, on the phone you told me you did have new evidence."

"We do. But it's not related to the charges. We've been able to prove that Petty Officer Penachetti was not responsible for the murder of Jake Halden."

Ziva had e-mailed the photo of Noreen Jessop to the Fort Meade Rod & Gun Club, and the desk clerk had identified her as Louisa Penachetti, confirming that the biometric scanner had been tricked by the small piece of latex attached to her index finger. Jessop had checked out the Glock on Monday morning, and returned it less than two hours later.

"Murder?" The Admiral quizzed. Gibbs raised his eyebrows at Pete. Noting this, the Admiral himself glanced over at his son, realizing that he hadn't given him all the details of the situation.

"Yeah. I didn't see the point in telling you about that, since they hadn't laid any charges yet. Didn't want to worry you any more than necessary, sir."

Gibbs smiled at the formality the younger man adopted with his father and superior officer. "Captain, I have a couple more questions for Louisa. I assume you want to be present..."

"Absolutely." Pete followed Gibbs into the interrogation room, leaving the Admiral sputtering in the hallway. "Don't worry, Dad, I'll do everything I can to get this sorted out," Pete reassured him.

As soon as her eyes lit upon her brother, Louisa stood up and threw her arms around him. "Pete!"

"You ok, sis?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. You here to get me out?"

"We'll see."

Her face fell. This was not the response she'd hoped for. They sat down, and Louisa locked eyes with Gibbs. She no longer felt threatened by him; his gaze seemed gentler than it had late last night.

"Petty Officer... have any of your personal effects gone missing lately?"

She pondered the question for a long moment. "Well... I lost my hairbrush." By the expression on Gibbs' face, she could tell this must be important, so she continued. "I always keep it in the top drawer of my desk. The other day, I went to get it, and it was gone. I thought I was losing my mind – obviously I've misplaced it, but I have no idea where."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe someone took it?" Pete straightened up in his chair. He could see where the line of questioning was headed, and he was encouraged. Louisa, however, was puzzled.

"Who would want to steal a hairbrush?"

"I have a couple of theories. Can you describe it?"

"It's brown, with black bristles. About 10 inches long. Oval. And the handle has finger grips."

Gibbs pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed dial. "Ziva? You on the scene? Good. Look for a woman's hairbrush, brown with black bristles." Ziva had been dispatched by Gibbs to Halpern's apartment to give the evidence a final once-over, this time with the probable linkage between the transmission and the murder in mind. He snapped the phone shut and turned back to the two siblings. "One more question... why did you never report Petty Officer Halden to your superior officer?"

1:12 p.m.

McGee came bounding into the bullpen like a Jack Russell terrier chasing after a Frisbee. "Where's Gibbs?" he demanded of Tony.

The Senior Field Agent didn't even look up from his computer screen. "Interrogation," he muttered distractedly. Suddenly it dawned on him what Tim had been working on, and why he might be so excited. He glanced up. "Why? You find something?"

"I might have..." McGee answered cryptically, giving Tony a sideways glance that told him he wasn't likely to get much information out of the junior agent. Tony raised his eyebrows and motioned with his hand for McGee to cough up the information, but Tim shook his head. "No way, Tony. Gibbs made it crystal clear, you're off the case, we're not to share any info with you... besides, why should I tell you, when you never warned me about that damned cat?"

Tony was genuinely surprised at this comeback. He'd completely forgotten to mention the cat when they'd debriefed for the first time. It hadn't dawned on him that Tim would have an allergic reaction when he went to Louisa's apartment, and he had not (for once) intentionally left out this vital piece of information. He was contrite. "Sorry about that, Tim. I kinda had other things on my mind... was it bad?"

"Well, I went through half a box of Kleenex and six Benadryl... you honestly forgot about it?" McGee wanted to stay mad at Tony, but he was finding it difficult, given his atypical behaviour.

"Yeah... Look, McGee... I'm really worried. I don't want Louisa to have to spend another night in that holding cell. So if you've got something that could exonerate her – "

"Why do you care so much?" Tim interjected, deciding he might as well broach the question that had been on everyone's mind. "Abby referred to Louisa as your 'girlfriend'. Something I should know?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "She's not my girlfriend, all right?... " He glanced back at his computer screen, avoiding Tim's gaze, and muttered softly, "... but she is special to me."

McGee was taken aback. He'd never seen Tony this serious when talking about a woman. Any woman. Not even Jeanne. He wasn't even trying to hide his cards, and Tim took pity on him, sensing that whatever was going on inside Tony DiNozzo's head and heart, he didn't have complete control of it. McGee had a kind soul, and he couldn't bring himself to continue torturing his partner in the face of his obvious discomfort.

Tim licked his lips and gave a furtive glance around the squad room, subconsciously scanning for any sign of the Boss. "All right, but don't you dare tell anyone I told you this before Gibbs." Tony sat up eagerly, and Tim continued. "I re-ran the trace using a different algorithm. It kept hanging at a certain point. When I tried to get it going again, I realized the problem was a consistency error in the random number generator."

"In English, Probie."

He ignored the barb, and carried on. "Someone re-programmed the random number generator, after the fact, in order to alter the apparent source of the signal when the trace was conducted. They made it look like the signal came from Petty Officer Penachetti's workstation. But when I corrected for the programming change, and re-ran the trace, I discovered that, in fact, it came from Halpern's computer. Looks like Mossad was doing a bit of clean-up after the fact, to hide the fact that they had a sleeper agent embedded at NSA."

He proceeded to fill Tony in on the details of Abby's discovery regarding the fake fingerprints. They now had all the pieces of evidence needed to prove Louisa had been an innocent victim of a highly sophisticated frame-up job. DiNozzo felt about 10 pounds lighter upon hearing this news. Tim was heading down to give the news to Gibbs, and soon Louisa would be released. Tony would make sure he was there waiting for her.

"One more question... why did you never report Petty Officer Halden to your superior officer?"

She lowered her eyes. "Halden would have ratted me out. He knew I'd sent that video, he knew I was scared of getting caught. I guess I'm lucky all he did was send me rude notes and blow a few spitballs."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at Pete. "He did far more than that, I'm afraid." He pulled out one of the photos from the little 'shrine' they'd found at the crime scene. She gasped at the sight of it, and Pete muttered Oh my God! "Jacob Halpern was a stalker," Gibbs continued. "I'm guessing his behaviour would have escalated if he hadn't been killed. You were fortunate, it looks like the Mossad got to him first."

"Jacob Halpern...?" the Petty Officer queried in confusion.

"... was Jake Halden. He was a Mossad operative... a sleeper agent."

"Uh, Boss, could I have a word, please?" McGee's voice floated into the interrogation room, and Gibbs glanced over at the one-way glass with a scowl. "It's very important," Tim added meekly, as if this would absolve him of the horrid crime he'd committed by breaking Rule # 22.

Gibbs pulled back the crime scene photo and slid it back into the file folder, slamming it shut and rising from the table. "Excuse me." He left them alone, and marched into Observation. "This better be good, McGee."

"It is, Boss. Jacob Halpern sent that encrypted transmission, not Louisa Penachetti. Someone tricked out the system to divert the IP address trace. They probably wouldn't have known, until they did it, who it would end up pointing to instead. I'm guessing that's how they determined she was the one they would frame for the murder."

Gibbs smiled, at which point the tension visibly left McGee's shoulders. "Someone, meaning Mossad."

"Most likely. It's technically impossible to tell."

"Thanks, Tim." The supervisory agent patted McGee proudly on the back, and headed back into Interrogation. McGee stood in awe, but part of him was uncomfortable – for once the Boss was not taking his computer skills for granted, but, rather, was showing genuine appreciation. Why was he behaving this way? This was not Gibbs. He'd been acting a bit funny all day.

Tim shook it off, and headed back out towards the bullpen, running into DiNozzo along the way, going in the opposite direction. They exchanged glances and nodded at each other, sealing an unspoken deal to keep mum about the informal debriefing Tim had given Tony.

The door to Interrogation opened, and Gibbs leaned in, announcing, "You're free to go, Petty Officer."

"Agent Gibbs?" Pete queried.

"We're dropping the charges. We have new evidence pointing to Jacob Halpern as the sender of the transmission."

"That's it? No apology?" Pete was incredulous. "After everything you put my sister through –"

"It's ok, Pete. They were just doing their jobs." The last thing Louisa wanted was to make a scene, especially when she didn't know who might be watching on the other side of that glass. She approached the doorway, and Gibbs backed out of the room to let her pass. She ran straight into the arms of her father, who was much-relieved to note his daughter was not wearing handcuffs. "It's over, Daddy!" she exclaimed, and he hugged her tight, lifting her off the floor as she giggled with delight.

Tony appeared just then around the corner, ostensibly heading for the bathroom, but in reality his arrival was timed with Swiss-watch precision. As Louisa pulled away from her father's embrace, she caught sight of DiNozzo.

"Tony!" she squealed, running to him and wrapping her arms tightly about his torso. She buried her face in his chest, and he pulled her to himself, tucking her head under his chin and closing his eyes. He was beaming from ear to ear, and Gibbs could tell that, somehow, Tony already knew what was going on – someone had spilled the beans. Then again, did it really matter at this point?

They held each other for a long moment, until finally Tony opened one eye and caught Pete Penachetti staring at them, mouth agape. The Admiral also appeared to be supremely interested in the touching reunion unfolding in front of him. Instinctively, DiNozzo pulled back from the embrace, and took Louisa's tiny hands in his own. She smiled up at him. "Thank you."

"I didn't really do anything," he shook his head, glancing over at McGee, who now had emerged from Observation and was standing next to Gibbs in the hallway, wearing a wide grin that told Tony that Abby's theory about his love life was gaining traction.

"You never gave up on me. You kept the investigation going. I'd be looking at years in prison if it weren't for you."

Tony shook his head, and glanced over at Gibbs. He knew full well that, even without his own misgivings, Gibbs had had enough doubts of his own that the investigation would have gone the same way regardless. He couldn't take credit for something that wasn't his doing. "It was a team effort," he demurred, and Gibbs nodded his approval. "You must be exhausted. Why don't you let me take you home, so you can get some proper rest?"

She nodded. It would be so lovely to dive under the fluffy covers of her goose-down duvet and let all her cares of the past 48 hours drift away, the nightmare finally over. With a nod to Pete and the Admiral, Tony took Louisa's hand and escorted her to the elevator. Moments later, the doors slid shut and they disappeared from view, leaving two confused Naval officers and two bemused NCIS agents to compare notes about what they'd just witnessed.