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It was five hours after Jethro had left Ducky with instructions to get the autopsy reports for Jenny and Todd Gelfand, and Gibbs was sitting at his desk glaring up at the Directors office. Cynthia had told him about Vance's conversation with McGee, and so he had sought the young man out to talk about it, and tell him his loyalty was appreciated. Well, he had seen the young Computer tech unable to speak for nerves before, who hadn't? However, he had never seen him unable to speak from anger. The young man had spent a good few minutes trying to describe Vance in a way that conveyed his fury, but wasn't obscene. In the end, Gibbs had let him go for an extended lunch to cool down, and he still wasn't back yet. He couldn't blame him really. What Vance had apparently said about him and how he would hurt Abby and Ziva with his recklessness was making his own blood boil, never mind the veiled threat to McGee's job. This was one of those times were he hoped Vance would give him a reason to shoot him, because he would do it without hesitation. He shook his head sadly; he had already upset Abby by telling her to test the swabs of bourbon, without telling her that it was Jenny's. He had gone to see her, had even brought a Caf-Pow with him, but she had sealed the doors to her inner lab and had been hugging her hippo and ignoring him. Her tear stained face had been glued to her computer screen and the pictures of the team including Jenny, from the first (and last) Halloween party she had been allowed to organise. Jethro had been there, McGee's dog had taken a shine to Jenny and she had been gushing over it with Abby for most of the night. They were some of the last pictures taken of her prior to her death.

A couple of folders suddenly slammed down on his desk and he looked up, shocked that he hadn't heard Ducky's approach. Surely he wasn't losing his touch so badly that even an old friend could sneak up on him? He could usually sense when someone he knew was close, the sound of their footfalls gave away more information than people realised, and yet this time Ducky had been able to walk casually right up to his desk without him noticing. The M.E. grinned down at him and tapped on the folders, drawing his attention to the name 'Dr. Todd Gelfand' which was on the top, and Gibbs suppressed the urge to move it so he could see Jenny's beneath.

"Five hours Jethro, how about that?" Gibbs returned his smile and chuckled.

"You'll sprain something one of these days by being so charming." Ducky straightened his bowtie and leaned towards Gibbs so he could whisper conspiratorially.

"Dr. Hampton and I are anticipating a rather pleasant evening in Palena's tomorrow night." Gibbs grinned and stood, clapping his friend on the shoulder in congratulation and picked up the folders.

"How about we keep autopsy business down in autopsy?" Ducky nodded in agreement and they walked to the elevator, taking it down to his domain. The ride was quiet, no words necessary since both knew that the answers to their questions lay in the two file's Gibbs was clutching tight to his chest. Jethro's heart seemed to have relocated to his head, the beat loud and irregular in his ears and his throat seemed dry. Anticipation of finding out his hopes were well founded was consuming him and he struggled to tell himself he could be wrong. His gut wasn't infallible, and he wasn't even sure if it was his gut telling him she was alive, it could just be wishful thinking, brought on by a horrific nightmare, a nightmare which just happened to have elements of truth to it that he wasn't aware of until after he'd had it. Upon entering the empty room, they walked over to Ducky's desk and the older man sat, pulling the folders in front of him. Gibbs watched him look between the two and he reached over Ducky, flipping open Todd's first, his courage to look at Jenny's failing him, and Ducky began to read through it.

"Alright… hmm… Ok, he had begun to decompose by the time the authorities found him, in fact he was tracked down by a dog, which ran off the lead and started to scratch at the garage door. Its owner was able to smell the decay once he got close enough and called the police." Gibbs rolled his eyes in slight irritation and cut him off.

"Interesting Duck, but how did he die?" Ducky, who was far too used to being interrupted by Gibbs to let it bother him, answered him promptly.

"A single gunshot wound to the head. Death was instantaneous." Ducky pulled out a close up picture of the bullet hole and Gibbs swallowed reflexively. It didn't bother him, death and decay, but he had known this guy. To see him so… rotted was disturbing. Ducky inhaled sharply and then pulled out a pile of pictures looking through until he found one of the man's hands. He studied them, but there was nothing to see. "Oh, I could have sworn…" he dropped his hands and looked at Gibbs. "The bullet wound is in exactly the same place as the one that killed La Grenouille and Jasper Shepard. The same type of gun, too, although there was no bullet or casing. The entire place was said to be spotless. Unfortunately this one has no bruise on the hand. It's very likely that he was killed by the same person, though the lack of bruise is interesting."

"It's a disarming move Duck, he was a doctor. I seriously doubt that he was armed." Jethro was disturbed by the thought that the same gun had killed La Grenouille and Todd; after all, it was Jenny's gun. Ducky nodded.

"I don't think La Grenouille was armed either, but the bruise was still there. I think it is more of a pre-emptive strike. They cannot move or retaliate once they have been thumb tapped. The doctor is the only one that I think couldn't defend himself through other means so it wasn't necessary."

"So a simple distraction would have done the same job."

"Exactly, and what better to distract a doctor with, then a patient?" He lifted an eyebrow and Gibbs' furrowed.

"You think he was there to look after someone and was killed for his trouble?" Ducky inclined his head slightly.

"I think it is a very real possibility that there is someone out there that is or was injured, and hasn't been found yet."

"We may have a kidnapping on our hands or an injured gang member, and Todd was killed to keep him quiet either way." Ducky sighed and closed Todd's file, swapping it for the one underneath.

"Yes. Now on to Jennifer's report. Are you sure-?" Gibbs cut off his question, tired of hearing it.

"Yes Ducky, I'm sure."

"Very well." He opened it and read over it, nodding. "All of the information is correct."

"Did they find evidence of the drugs? Or an illness?" Ducky's mouth made an 'o' and he flipped around, looking for any mention of either. When his mouth set in a grim line Gibbs felt he already knew what he was going to say, but his rapidly beating heart wanted him to say it anyway. When Ducky replied, his voice was hard, anger dripping from his sentence.

"It says here that they found a tumour the size of a golf ball in her brain." Jethro's eyes met Ducky's, their mutual rage at the false information written in the report, that they had already disproved, simmering beneath the surface.

"An M.E. that Vance knows? Can I look at the pictures Duck?"

"Just because they lied on the report about her illness doesn't mean she isn't dead. Anthony and Ziva both saw her body, Jethro." Gibbs ignored his words and picked up the pictures, walking over to an empty autopsy table to arrange them in a body shape. He worked in silence, with Ducky rearranging the ones he put in the wrong place, until they had an almost complete body.

"No head, Duck?"

"It would appear not, Jethro. I assume they didn't want the press to get a hold of the report or any of the pictures. It's for anonymity."

"You can say that again." He groused, looking over the 'body' carefully, scouring the skin for any identifying marks. He sighed heavily as he passed his blue orbs over the pictures once again. There was nothing. No marks or blemishes, the pearly white skin was just as perfect as he remembered it to be. Of course the last time he had had her laying on a table had been in the first few days in Paris, and she had been waiting for him to join her. He smiled sadly in remembrance, he had undressed her and laid her on the table because her leg had been particularly painful, the bullet wound had healed but the deep tissue wouldn't let her forget she had been shot. His smile froze on his face and his picked up the picture of her thigh, where the scar would be, but wasn't. He held it out for Ducky to look at and the older man took it from him, his brow creasing in concentration, and Gibbs waited for it to click in his mind. The three of them had been on the mission to the Czech Republic and Ducky had been the one to look after the wounds they suffered throughout their time there. He should remember the bullet wound too. After a few seconds Ducky's expression cleared and he moved forward to look over the pictures himself.

"There's no scar. It's not a trick of the light either, the skin here is all the same colour and it shouldn't be." He traced a circle on the picture of the thigh, where he knew the bullet had torn its way through Jenny's leg. "This is not her leg."

"Anonymity again, Duck? Or did they really not have Jenny's body?" The undisguised hope on Jethro's face and in his voice made the old M.E. tread carefully. If her body really was in the plot, he would be completely devastated.

"The only way to know for sure is to exhume the body in her plot at Arlington." Gibbs agreed, but one thing was now bothering him.

"Ducky, the gun used to kill Rene Benoit was-"

"Jennifer's back up weapon, yes." Ducky recalled telling him that some things should be left unknown, the day she was killed.

"You said the same weapon was used to kill Todd."

"The same type of weapon, Jethro. Without a bullet or casing there is no way to be sure." He trailed off and looked hard at Gibbs. "What are you suggesting?"

"Jenny could have been the one that killed Todd."

--

Jenny slung her bag over her shoulder and slipped out the door, closing it gently behind her. Trent had been true to his word and they had gone on a tour of the city, as well as locating the houses of her enemies. He had finally given her the targets in NCIS too, though he believed she didn't need to know their names. He had shown her pictures of them and she had been surprised to find two of them looked incredibly… incapable of subterfuge. The two computer geeks had thrown her for a moment but Trent had reminded her that geek's make good cover because of the stereotype that makes them seem harmless. She wasn't going to be taken in by appearances. Only one of the entire bunch worried her; the Hamas operative. The woman promised death with her gaze, even the smile on one of the security photos showed her ability to disarm her target with a simple gesture. Well Jenny wouldn't let her try it on her, she would shoot her from afar and make sure she couldn't get back up before going anywhere near her. She smiled and took out the little pile of pictures. She couldn't pick them out of a crowd without some way to identify them, so she had borrowed the clearest of the photos from Trent. He wouldn't mind once she reported the successful kills she was going to make tonight. She flicked through them again, trying to commit their faces to memory and then put them back in her bag and buttoned up her thick, black fleece jacket, pulling the bag strap tighter to her. She was planning to surprise Trent with at least two deaths and she knew exactly which two she was going to start with.

She smiled to herself and walked through the streets towards a coffee shop, where her first target was a regular customer. The walk was quite a long one but Jenny didn't mind. She enjoyed the time alone in the crisp, cool night air, hoping some sort of memory would resurface. Trent seemed to be getting more worried about the fact she couldn't recollect anything from before her accident, his probing questions about her past were becoming more frequent and his expression was always carefully controlled when she replied negatively. She tried to remember things, she really did, and she was too old to be looked after by her brother. She should be helping him and her country by killing these people, but she couldn't even manage that anymore since she had lost her memory.

She spent the rest of her trek with her head down, ploughing through any other pedestrians that happened to share the pavement with her and ignoring her surroundings, her depression at not remembering anything preventing her from looking too closely at anything until she almost walked through the door to the coffee shop her target was going to be in. she stopped dead in her tracks and wandered across the road to be opposite it. She ducked down the alley beside the shop opposite the coffee shop and began to scale the fire escape, pulling a bin to the foot of it so she could reach it. She felt giddy all of a sudden, knowing that she would be making Trent so happy with her. He would stop doubting her after this, her ability to do her job would be self explanatory. Maybe he would spend a little more time with her and help her with her knife throwing. She had been right when she had thought she would be terrible at it. Only one knife out of ten had stuck in the target and that had missed all vital organs, instead embedding itself in the target's groin. Trent had laughed, actually laughed at her so much he had slipped to the ground and turned bright red in oxygen deprivation, she had been so humiliated.

She reached the top of the building and pulled up her hood to conceal her face and blend in better with the darkness, belatedly realising she should have done that earlier, and then pulled out her gun, well Trent's gun. She crouched and snuck slowly closer to the edge of the building so she could see over the edge, and into the coffee shop. She took out a silencer and screwed it on to the end of the gun. She would be testing her skill to the extreme now. She adjusted the sight on the small custom gun and settled herself down on the lip of the building. She steadied the gun and looked through the sight, the inside of the coffee shop clear and bright. She grinned and moved the sight, looking around the shop, searching for him. Ah, there he is. The male computer geek sat by the window with his back to her and his laptop open, writing something lightning fast, stopping occasionally to take a sip of his coffee. She centred the sight on the back of his head, merely watching for a few moments to make sure he wouldn't move at the critical moment. This was it, the moment she had been waiting for. She began to squeeze the trigger when suddenly she wasn't on the rooftop anymore; she was in a large, open plan room, with desks in little mini wall compartments.

She was standing behind the computer tech, looking over his shoulder as he typed away on his keyboard. She realised she was talking and concentrated on her words.

"Everything Tim. If La Grenouille is in DC this could lead us to him."

"Or DiNozzo" a grey haired man replied to her, moving away from her, his face hidden from her view.

"Well obviously DiNozzo is our first priority." She agreed with him, despite the fact his statement had made her seem heartless, even though she wasn't. She didn't feel like arguing with him over his tone when he was already blaming her for the current predicament.

"Ziva start with the hospital. Find out when DiNozzo left and with who." The man rounded a desk in front of her but instead of looking at him, she turned away.

"And who was driving his car. Got it." The young Israeli woman picked up the man's train of thought and began to make calls.

"Director Shepard." She turned to see the undercover CIA Agent and handler for La Grenouille, Trent Kort, walking purposefully towards her, radiating irritation, why he was in her building she could only guess, although it probably wasn't going to be good for whoever it concerned.

"Mr Kort. An unannounced visit by the CIA usually means someone's in trouble. I trust it isn't you." He gave her a tight, clearly pissed smile and demanded to see her in her office privately, which she refused. She had kept enough secrets from the team; she wouldn't talk to him in private if she could help it. She didn't trust him and she knew the feeling was mutual.

Jenny gasped in shock as her vision blurred and then cleared, and she realised she was back on the rooftop, the sounds of screaming in the air. What the hell had just happened?! How could she remember being in the same room as most of her targets? Why had she seemed to not know Trent very well? He was her brother for Christ's sake! She tried to stop herself from hyperventilating by taking deep breaths, the sound of screams finally registering in her mind as something potentially dangerous to her. She quickly looked through her sight and saw that she had pulled the trigger while she had been in the memory. There was a small smoking hole through the young man's laptop, the man himself was unharmed, had his own gun out and was slowly making his way out of the coffee shop and across the street right towards her. She panicked, jumping up from her hiding place and stuffing the gun in her bag before taking off towards the fire escape, even though she knew she would never get to the bottom before he reached her. She was correct in that assessment, as she looked over the side of the building and saw he had run across the road to take cover in the alleyway below her. She was stuck, and worse, she didn't know anymore if she should kill the boy or not.