Sadly, this chapter is not as long as chapter twelve, but it's close! And I have to say, I like how it turned out, got a lot of grief coming in here. But, I have to apologize for A.) taking so long to get this up. I'm trying guys, I really am, and hopefully I can get chapter 14 up sooner than a week (it's already written), and B.) because there isn't any Gibbs/Tony interactions in this chapter. Sorry, again, but a few things have to happen between then and now.

On a completely unrelated note, I was very depressed recently, my best friend told me about three days ago that the Backstreet Boys are playing in Pittsburgh, next wednesday. It's heartbreaking because I can't make a roadtrip on such short notice. The last time I saw them in concert, I was fifteen, and I'm about to turn 21! Now granted,I actually got to meet Howie last concert, but still... I'll be quiet, but I was very upset about this news. Please cheer me up. Read, enjoy, maybe leave a little review. Knowing you guys like this story always puts a smile on my face.

Thirteen

The first thing that Dennis noticed when he walked downstairs was the incredibly loud sound booming through the hallway. The door to the forensics lab wasn't shut, so there was no barrier to drown out the noise. He felt his ears bleeding already.

He remembered Abby Scuito incredibly well even though he barely knew her. The last time that he saw her was to do a composite sketch of their two killers in February. It was a difficult experience for him.

Back then there had been no music when he entered. He just saw a panic stricken woman arguing with a scientist on loan from Baltimore, Clay. Clay was a decent guy, but he was always more partial to Tony than Dennis. Most people were.

"Abby!" He yelled above the music. At least, he thought it was music.

She swiveled around and stared at him, wide eyed and her jaw to the clean floor. Without taking her eyes off him, she picked up a remote and turned the music off. "Detective Morgan?"

He just smiled. "In the flesh." Before he could say anything else, Abby bounded towards him and wrapped her arms around him in a giant bear hug that knocked all of the air out of his body. "Abby," he gasped.

"It's so great to see you!" She squealed. "Oh my gosh, what are you even doing here?"

"Abby!" He kept trying to pull air into his lungs, but Abby wouldn't let him. "Need," gasp, "air!"

"Oh!" Abby finally pulled away and gave him a long look. "What are you doing here?" Her gaze turned skeptical.

Dennis ignored her for a while as he tried to focus on breathing again. His throat burned with the mouthfuls of air he breathed, but he didn't care. That woman had a death grip! "Didn't Gibbs tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"We're working another joint investigation."

Abby shook her head. "But Gibbs is working the Jamie Taylor case."

Dennis just nodded.

He watched as she processed everything. Slowly her skeptical gaze turned to one of complete shock. Eventually, she grew angry. "Why didn't he tell me that earlier? I mean here I am, locked up in my lab and I wasn't even told that we were working a joint investigation. With you! Of all people." She stopped mid-rant and whirled around on him. "Where's your partner?"

Dennis wasn't sure why that was important. "At a hotel, getting some shut-eye."

"But he's working the case too?"

He rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah." And just like last time, he was spending all of his time with Gibbs. Dennis had to call his sister in order to do a single canvas, but Gibbs snatched Tony almost immediately after he arrived at the precinct.

Abby groaned. "That's why! Gibbs knows that I don't like that little weasel, DiNozzo, so he didn't want to tell me that he was working with you because that meant working with your partner too."

Dennis watched on as she kept rambling to herself. He shoved his hands in his pockets and cocked his head to the side. He knew from past experience that Abby could talk a lot. And for some reason, he felt that it would be best to just let her ramble on without interruption.

After maybe five minutes, she finally stopped. She turned to him with a strange look on her face. It was a mix of a glare and curiosity, and possible happiness. "So what can I do for you, detective?"

His eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Gibbs sent me down here. I'm supposed to go over everything from the Chike murder."

"Oh!" The strange look left her face as she bounced towards her computer. "Well, I don't really have anything just yet. I just started looking. But you can help me. You ever do forensic work before, detective?"

"Call me Dennis," he said automatically as he roamed over everything he bagged back at the house. Most of it was covered in blood. He was not looking forward to pulling it out of bags. "And no, but according to Tony I'm damn good at schlepping."

That earned a small smile from the Goth woman. "Good, I could use somebody to schlep." She moved over to the table and started grabbing items. "So, standard tests are DNA, fingerprints. Hopefully our killer left something behind. Then we can catch him—"

Dennis cut her off. "And find Jamie. Hopefully while he's still alive."

They each put on a pair of latex gloves and got to work. Abby had absolutely no problem touching and grabbing everything that was covered in blood, but Dennis was extremely grossed out. Something that Abby took great pleasure in.

"How is it that a homicide detective is this squeamish about blood?"

"Blood doesn't bother me. It's the fact that I'm touching the blood that bothers me."

"What? You've never touched blood before?" Abby chuckled as she inserted a set of prints into her computer.

Dennis shrugged. "Not like this." He picked up another bag to cut open. This one contained a high school yearbook, although he wasn't sure if it belonged to Julia Chike or Sam Huntington. It too was covered in blood.

"Well, when was the last time you touched blood then, Mr. Homicide Detective?" She was smiling.

Dennis tensed. "February." He refused to look up and look at Abby's face. She didn't say anything. Dennis supposed it could have been shock, or it could have been a sign to continue. He didn't really know. "When Tony and Gibbs came out of that butcher shop, they were both covered in blood. Most of it was Tony's." He rubbed his eyes as the images came back to his mind. "I ran up and I grabbed him when he passed out." He couldn't say anymore. That day was the scariest moment of his life.

Sure, Tony was all smiles when Dennis arrived on scene. Cracked a joke. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he was falling to the ground. Gibbs had cried out in pain and fell over too. Stan and Dennis ran forward. Dennis tried feeling for a pulse in Tony's wrists, but they were too carved up.

He didn't know when, but Abby moved closer to him and put her hand on his shoulder. Her smile was now gone, in its place was a look of sadness and pain.

He shook his head. "After that day, Tony changed. He's not the same guy he used to be. He's always angry, he," he paused, unsure if he should continue. It was a detail that could very well destroy Tony's career. But for some reason, he couldn't stop the words from spewing from his mouth. "He drinks every night. Even if we have to work in the morning. He'll screw anything in a skirt. I mean," he closed his eyes and shook his head, "Tony's always been a player, but it's worse. He'll pick up women he doesn't even like just so he doesn't have to be alone. And I don't know how to help him."

He had absolutely no idea where all of this was coming from. Or why he was even sharing all of this with Abby. It wasn't like any of it had anything to do with her question. But he just couldn't stop talking.

"I'm not sure that you can," said Abby, absently rubbing soothing circles on his jacket. "Not until he wants to be helped."

Dennis chuckled bitterly. "Yeah, but that's the problem. Tony doesn't ask for help. Not until it's too late."

Abby's brow furrowed in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means he already tried to kill himself once." He didn't need to look to know that her jaw had dropped.

.

Once again, Jethro stood in the observation room. Only this time, it was a woman who was about to be interrogated, and Burley was the one doing the questioning.

Corporal Pam Darklin was a pretty girl with big blue eyes and dark brown hair, pulled back in a tight pony-tail. She was dressed in a simple v-neck shirt. And she looked terrified. Jethro smiled. Just what did she have to be so afraid of?

Burley leaned back in his chair and stared at her. Darklin fidgeted. "Am I in trouble, sir?" She asked.

"Why would you think that, Corporal?"

She laughed nervously. "I'm sitting in an interrogation room, sir."

It was Burley's turn to chuckle. "Yeah," he leaned forward, "I'm trying to figure something out. What exactly happened the night Jamie Taylor disappeared?"

Darklin's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I already told you, sir."

"Yeah, yeah you did. But I don't think you're telling me the whole truth here, Corporal."

"I don't know what you mean."

Burley shrugged. "Well, your story didn't change. At all. After four months, something should have been different. But when I talked to you earlier, you gave me a word for word recount of what you told me four months ago. Do you see my problem?"

The confusion left the Corporal's face, to be replaced with anger. "I don't know what you are implying, sir, but I assure you everything I told you was the truth."

"So you just spent a lot of time rehearsing in the four months since I last spoke to you?" Burley scoffed.

Through the window, Jethro could see Darklin turning purple with anger. "I did not hear, nor see anything that night."

"But the witness at your house says that she saw something."

"I did not have visitors that night, sir. I was alone."

Jethro clenched his fists tight. He didn't want Burley to tell Darklin that Chike was dead just yet. He wanted her to slip up first.

"Or maybe you don't want to admit that you were with a whore that night." Burley said it so nonchalantly. Darklin's jaw dropped. "A female whore, at that."

It took nearly a full minute for her to pick her jaw back up. "Are you accusing me of being gay, sir?"

Burley laughed again. "Nah. And I don't care if you are. What I care about is finding Jamie Taylor alive, and you are not leaving until you tell me everything you know."

"But I don't know anything!"

Whatever was said afterwards, Jethro didn't hear. The door to the observation room opened. He turned around to be faced with Special Agent Chris Pacci. Pacci was a bit on the shorter side with a prominent forehead and thick eyebrows set low over his eyes. He was younger than Jethro, but a couple years older than Burley. "Hey, Gibbs."

"Pacci, what do you need?" Normally Jethro liked the other man, but right now he was trying to watch an interrogation. Pacci usually knew better than to interrupt.

"There's a guy here who needs to talk to ya. Says it's about Jamie Taylor's case."

Well, that was a good reason to interrupt. "Who?"

"Corporal Graham?" Pacci shook his head. "He said it was important."

Jethro checked his watch. It was three in the morning. "Yeah," he mumbled, "it better be." He followed Pacci back to the bullpen. He was still annoyed about leaving observation. But he bit his tongue. For now. If Graham told him something useless then they were going to have problems.

Jethro had to admit, Graham looked terrible. His clothes were rumpled, as though he literally climbed out of bed and drove over here. There were thick bags under his eyes, and his normally tanned skin was white and slightly pasty.

"Corporal Graham," he said by way of greeting.

The Marine turned to him with worry filled eyes. "Is it true, you brought in Corporal Darklin?"

Jethro glared at him. "I thought you were here to talk about Jamie."

Graham rolled his eyes. "Did you bring in Corporal Darklin?" He asked desperately.

"She's in interrogation."

"On what grounds?"

Jethro just continued to glare. This was wasting time. Time that they didn't have. "Why are you here, Corporal?"

Graham eyed him for a long while. If Jethro had to guess, he was probably trying to decide if he could trust the agent. It was aggravating. He had things that he could be doing, instead of trying to earn this man's trust when Jethro barely trusted him.

He was about to turn around and head back to the observation room when Graham finally spoke. "Pam lied."

Jethro stopped in his tracks. "Lied about what?

"She wasn't home the night the Jamie disappeared."

The agent paused. His first thought was that Graham was telling him that Darklin was responsible for this mess. Was she the one who kidnapped Jamie? Did she kill Chike? Why didn't Graham come forward sooner? "How do you know?"

Graham hesitated for another moment. Jethro was about to leave again when he said, "She was with me."

Jethro shook his head. "With you?"

Graham sighed heavily. "We've been," he paused, obviously ashamed, "we've been sleeping together. For a couple of months now. She lied to protect us."

Damn, Jethro thought. Now it all made sense. Darklin's story hadn't changed because she was protecting her own secret. But that still didn't explain one thing. "Why did you lie to me?" When they first spoke to Graham, he claimed that he was at a retirement party for his former CO.

Graham shook his head. "I didn't. I was at the party. But I left early and went to meet Pam. Nobody noticed when I slipped out."

"Why would Julia Chike say that she was with Corporal Darklin?"

The Marine shook his head. "I honestly don't know. That's something you'll have to ask her."

Well that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. "Julia Chike's dead." He watched as Graham's face filled with shock and his jaw dropped.

"When?"

"Tonight. Know why anybody would want to kill a hooker?"

Graham shrugged. "She was a prostitute, a lot of the wives didn't appreciate her staying on base. But I can't imagine any of them killing her over it."

"Would you tell me if they would?"

Graham's silence was all the answer he needed.

"Do you think she could've been murdered for talking to us about Jamie?"

"I honestly don't know, sir. But I suppose it's possible." Graham's face was full of guilt, like the death of that woman was on his shoulders only. Jethro had to agree with that.

He stepped forward into Graham's personal space. A glare on his face, he growled, "Is there anything else you failed to tell me, Corporal?"

"I'm sorry sir—"

"Don't apologize. And don't call me sir."

The Marine huffed. "I was trying to cover my ass. It was wrong, but I thought it was necessary. But I won't throw Pam under a bus like that, Agent Gibbs. I'm trying to do the right thing."

Jethro scoffed. "You should have thought about that four months ago." They were chasing leads that wouldn't go anywhere. It was a waste of time. And damn it, did it piss him off. "If Jamie dies, it's on you." He turned and walked away.

What he said could very well be a lie, but he was too pissed to care. Four people were murdered, quite possibly for the same reason. Because they knew something about Jamie.

No, that wasn't true. Gloria Smith had been killed because of what Jamie told her. He saw a woman get killed. Now whoever did that was covering his tracks.

He headed down the hallway towards Interrogation Room two. When he opened the door, Burley stopped whatever he was saying and stared at him like a confused dog. "Need you," was all Jethro said.

"I'm a little busy boss."

"Got a new lead."

Burley jerked his head back in surprise before he stood up and followed his boss out the door. Neither man said anything to the questions Darklin was throwing at them.

They headed back to the bullpen with Jethro in the lead, Burley right behind him. "What's the lead?" He asked.

Jethro shook his head. "Don't got one."

"But you just said—"

"Jamie Taylor witnessed a murder. I want to know what he saw."

"We don't really have a lot on that, boss. He saw a woman get killed."

Jethro stopped and glared at his Senior Field Agent. "Then find me every unsolved homicide near Quantico from around four months ago." If they found the killer, then maybe they'd be able to find Jamie. "Or should I start looking for another Senior Field Agent?"

Burley ground his teeth together. "Well, you already found who you're gonna replace me with." He started walking again.

Jethro grabbed his arm to stop him. "What did you just say to me?"

The blonde man gave him a glare that could have rivaled Jethro's. "Jackson told me that you already offered DiNozzo a job."

"What's your point? We're a man down."

"Yeah, well, we weren't back then. Why'd you let him go sleep?"

"He's no good to us half awake."

"He's not the only one running on coffee and adrenaline, boss." Burley kept his voice low, like a snake's hiss, even though Jethro could tell he wanted to scream.

"You wanna nap, Stan? Then take one. After DiNozzo gets back."

Burley pulled away, still seething. "Whatever happened at that butcher shop clouded your judgment, boss."

Jethro stepped forward, his rage boiling through his veins. "Would you have rather been there, Stan? You think it would have made us closer," he said the last word with a sneer. "Would you have liked to have been the one cuffed to a chair, unable to do anything while those bastards were stabbing you, slicing you up? Beating the hell outta ya till you could barely see your own nose?" He stopped. He was revealing too much. He could tell by the way the anger faded from Stan's eyes. In its wake was pure shock and surprise. He wasn't used to Jethro talking that much. Especially not about something so personal. Jethro never felt so embarrassed.

"Boss—"

"Find me those cases, Stan." He walked away.

So? What did you think? Now I'll admit, it was probably a little OOC for Gibbs to reveal that kind of thing with Stan, but he was angry, and traumatized. And he was pretty close with Stan. Ok, I'm making excuses, sorry.

Next chapter is all Tony. And he does something really stupid on his part. Any guesses? Talk to me!

Bob