A/N! A big thank you to melonkitty who is the only reviewer I have left on this lonely journey called Rosie. The answer to your question will come in few chapters.

This would be more aptly named The Adventures of Rosa White, but I may break my plot up into several different stories. Yay! A series!

Enjoy!

Rosa stepped cautiously into Dr. Mallard's mansion-like house. It was decorated in an old-fashioned, yet tasteful way, and she found it homey.

She was startled out of studying her surroundings by his old, gentle voice. "There's a quest room available upstairs, first on the left, if you want to put down your things, my dear."

"Thanks, Ducky," she said as she trudged up the stairs. The guest room was feminine, all flowers and some lace, and Rosa wondered who had decorated Ducky's house. It was a nice room, even if it wasn't her taste, so she set her bag down and dug out her pajamas, toiletries, and a change of clothes and set them on the vanity. With the vague thought that she should probably wash Ziva's clothes before she gave them back, as a silent thank you, she pattered quietly back down the stairs.

She silently ghosted through the manor-house, figuring out which doors led where. She ended in the kitchen, where she found her host busy making dinner. It smelled wonderful, whatever it was. "That smells divine, Duck," she said, startling the poor man. He hadn't heard her come in.

"Ah, my dear! You're as quiet as Jethro! Give an old man a little warning! And thank you, I thought I'd make something a little special sense I have a guest. It's fettuccini alfredo. That reminds me of a time I met a chef who didn't know the names of his most famous dishes! When asked for a certain dish, he'd simply stare blankly and…" Ducky was off on another one of his stories. Rosa had been warned he often did this, but she found it endearing. She smiled tolerantly and listened, helping Ducky here and there. They enjoyed a quiet dinner, broken up with quiet conversation and hums of appreciation on Rosa's part. She loved pasta, and Ducky's cooking was excellent.

When they were through, Rosa wordlessly picked up the dishes and took them to the sink. Ducky was not expecting this, and the manners he was raised with demanded he, as the host, do the clean-up chores. When he opened his mouth to tell her this, she shushed him and said, "I'll wash, you dry." She smiled charmingly at him, and he found himself laughing. He nodded and found a towel.

She was scrubbing on a particularly sticky spot on a pan when Ducky asked, "So tell me about yourself, my dear. Anything you're comfortable with of course."

She paused her scrubbing and looked sideways at him. What do I tell him? How much should he know? She wondered. "Well, Duck, my life was not a hard one, at least not until three years ago." She turned back to the task at hand and started scrubbing again. "I was born in Iowa, and grew up in a little town called Deer River. The population has been around 1300 since the 1800's. Word travels faster than scuttlebutt in the bullpen in a town like that. Not that I actually lived in town. I lived about ten miles west on a farm." She smiled sadly at him. "I'm no more than a country bumpkin, Ducky.

"My family was fairly well respected. We weren't rich but we were well off. And we very rarely missed church on Sundays. I was a sheltered little girl. Carefree, sweet, and wild. I miss running barefoot in the summer… Anyways, the summer before my senior year in high school, my mother found out a… secret… that I had been hiding. It wasn't harmful, and it still isn't. But she couldn't stand that a child of hers could be like I am. She turned the whole family against me. So I left. I loaded up the truck and I hit the road. Headed east 'til I hit D.C. and… I wish I could say I never looked back. It would make things easier. I was seventeen then."

Ducky didn't know what to say. But eventually his curiosity got the better of him. "And the past three years…?"

She sighed and handed the last dish to him, before leaning heavily on the counter. She studied the suds in the sink before looking at Ducky. "Padre Del Dios looked like a savior to me. Which is awful. I have a Savior. Jesus.

"He took in a very grungy, scared, and desperate teenager, Ducky. That bastard turned me into an escape artist and priestess. I was always spiritual, and he used that. And I can drive." A wistful smile curled her lips.

"Oh?"

"I can take a corner on two wheels and still be in control, I can drive in all conditions, on all surfaces. I love driving – it's like, I don't know, flying."

Ducky chuckled. "Well, Rosalind, I'm not letting you near the car anytime soon." She laughed along with him. "I will be reading in front of the fire in the sitting room." He continued after a moment. "Care to join me?" It was a strange request, but Rosa could tell that sometimes Ducky felt lonely in his big house. So she agreed. She could do with a little down time anyway.

(Scene change here)

Gibbs roamed restlessly around his home: through the kitchen, to the living room, in and out of the bedrooms, glancing in the bathrooms and closets. He had tried to settle down with his boat and a mug of bourbon, but the normal winding-down methods weren't working. He kept glancing out the windows, expecting to see someone, whether it be one of his team, Jenny, Ducky, Rosa, or even one of Rosa's old hermanos with a gun. What was wrong with him? What was driving him up the wall? Eventually he figured it out: he hadn't offered Rosa a place to stay. How had he forgotten about her? Probably, she seemed confident and sure of her abilities. So? What was really so different about her? It wasn't a bad different, but she was on his team now. He didn't want secrets to be a difficulty. Damn it, what was so different?

(Scene change)

Ziva wandered idly if she should have offered the girl a place to stay. She knew, though, that she was tough, and that she'd be ok.

(Scene change)

Tony didn't go clubbing that night. He tried to turn in early in fact. He wanted to be fresh and alert the next day. A protective instinct had made itself known. He felt the same feeling towards Rosa he felt towards Abby. The big brother's need to protect, but tease. And he couldn't do that if he was tired from the night before.

(Scene change)

Tim sat before his typewriter, staring at nothing. Suddenly, his fingers sprang to the keys, tapping out a staccato rhythm. Click, click, clack, click, clack, clack, clack… clickity clack. He paused every now and then, almost savoring the ballad that he would never sing. But he was singing it with his fingers, to a girl with long blond hair and kaleidoscope eyes.

(Scene change)

As if she knew she was being written about, Rosa smiled. She felt comfortable with Ducky. Should she tell him? She should. Here goes nothing…

"Hey, Ducky?"

"Yes, Rosalind?"

"The reason Mom drove me out of the house is… I'm a Christian Wiccan."

Ducky raised his eyebrows. "I'm not going to throw you out because of your religion."

"Thanks, Duck. That's more than my own parents did for me. Don't tell the rest of the team, Ok? I want to tell them on my own."

"Of course, dear girl."