The Big Index

Updates

Home Angel Avengers Babylon 5 Big Wolf on Campus CSI: New York The Dead Zone Heroes Highlander Homicide: Life on the Street House Jurassic Park 3 Kiss Kiss Bang Bang Law and Order: Criminal Intent Man From U.N.C.L.E. Mortal Kombat NCIS *NSYNC Numb3rs Once a Thief Profit Real Ghostbusters The Secret Adventures of Jules Verne Smallville Stargate: Atlantis Stargate: SG-1 Star Trek: Voyager Star Wars: The Phantom Menace The X-Files X-Men (Movieverse) X2

Intersections and Investigations

by Nix
(crimsonquills AT crimsonquills DOT com)

---

Author's Notes: This series is set in the same universe as the Horses of Different Colors series by James Walkswithwind and Wolfling, which you can find at http://gila.fakingsanity.net/horses.html -- I have, however, written it with the intention that it will still make complete sense to people who haven't read that series.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Thank to James Walkswithwind and Wolfling, who let me play in their world. Thanks also to skripka, who discussed Catholicism with me to help me improve Kate's characterization. Recognition also goes out to Aurelia Priscus, who always helps me when I get stuck on plot points. But most of all, I have to thank , who stepped into the breech and betaed a 46,000 word story in less than five days after Real Life made it impossible for my original beta to focus as she needed to. Thank you all!

---

Tony breezed into the squad room, high on life and ready to take on all comers. He'd finally been released from the hell of physical therapy, he was off desk duty, and last night a little judiciously applied persuasion had secured a promise from Gibbs that they'd head up to Jameson's place come Friday. Neither one of them had been there since before Tony's unfortunate encounter with a couple of rattlesnakes; Gibbs wouldn't let him skip even one therapy session and the stubborn centaur refused to go by himself.

To be honest, Tony was kind of glad Gibbs had stuck around in the city. Sweating his way through rebuilding the muscles that the venom had attacked was bad enough. Doing it knowing he was missing out on a chance to go riding with Gibbs would have been pure torture.

But it's over now, Tony reminded himself. Five days and it'll be just you, Gibbs, and a pair of brushes. He grinned at the thought and slid into his desk chair with an extra flair. He shrugged out of his jacket and turned on his monitor before stretching broadly, folding his arms behind his head, and leaning back in his chair. "Life is good," he announced to the world in general.

"You're in a good mood," Kate commented, rounding the corner and heading to her own desk.

"Any reason I shouldn't be?" Tony asked languidly. "No more desk duty, no more physical therapy..."

"No more loafing at work," Gibbs interjected as he walked by, coffee cup in hand.

"Desk duty is not loafing," Tony said primly, but he straightened up a little and pulled his keyboard into his lap.

"And yet you somehow manage to make it look that way," Gibbs said, dropping into his own chair.

"It's a talent. Makes people underestimate me." Tony opened his e-mail and watched it download. Spam, spam, spam, spam, message from requisitions, spam, spam, message from Abby, message from Abby, message from Abby--God, she must have been bored--spam, spam, who knew, spam, more mysterious mail, spam, spam, spam. And to think, they supposedly had a filter. "At first glance," Tony went on, scanning through the e-mail, "I appear to be a lazy, sex obsessed product of nepotism, but one quickly discovers the razor sharp crack investigator I truly am."

Twin snorts greeted that statement, but it was no less than he'd expected.

McGee hurried in at barely a minute to seven and flopped down behind his desk with an audible sigh of relief.

"Late night, McGee?" Tony inquired.

"I'm not even late," McGee said, putting his things away and flicking on his own monitor.

"Of course! How could I have made such a terrible mistake, thinking maybe you'd actually managed to score." Tony sighed and shook his head theatrically.

"I notice you were early."

"I don't think I like what you're implying," Tony said, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

"I don't think you got any luckier last night than I did," McGee shot back calmly. Tony suppressed a grin. He swore McGee had gotten better at playing the game since he found out there wasn't any substance to it anymore.

Across the aisle, Kate looked faintly...well, constipated. Tony could imagine what she was thinking. Him, Gibbs, getting "lucky". Oh, to be able to play on that...but even if they hadn't been in public Tony wasn't sure what her reaction to a little teasing would be right now, and he couldn't afford to alienate her. So he just smirked at McGee and drawled, "I'll have you know that the ladies enjoy playing Florence Nightingale with me."

"Not playing doctor?"

Tony leered. "Same difference."

"Actually," McGee said, his voice taking on a slightlysuperior. tone, "Florence Nightingale--"

Gibbs's phone rang. He snatched it up off the cradle and barked his name into the receiver. All three junior agents watched silently as he pulled out his notebook and jotted down a couple of things, making attentive noises into the phone every now and then. "Got it," he said finally. "Our ETA is just under an hour." He dropped the phone back into the cradle and opened the drawer holding his gun and badge. "Gear up, people."

Tony was already hooking his weapon onto his belt. "What've we got, Boss?"

"Dead JAG out in Ballston." Gibbs knocked back the last of his coffee and tossed the cup into the can by Tony's desk as he went by.

Tony grabbed his jacket and quickened his step to keep up. "Lawyer or staff?"

"Don't know," Gibbs said. "ID wasn't accessible without disturbing evidence."

The four of them crowded onto the elevator. "I hope it's not a lawyer," Tony said, glancing up at the highlighted floor numbers automatically. "I hate dead lawyers."

"I'm not too fond of dead anyone, DiNozzo," Kate rebuked.

"Well, sure," Tony said. "Except maybe serial killers and terrorists. But dead lawyers are the worst."

"Funny," McGee commented. "Most people joke about dead lawyers."

"Most people don't have to investigate their murders," Tony grumbled.

"I still don't get it."

"Too many suspects, McGee," Gibbs explained.

"If she's a lawyer, we're going to have to look into every case she's won or lost for the past year. And if none of those pan out, we get to go back further." Tony paused as the elevator arrived and they stepped off. "Most people, we only have to look into three or four suspects. A lawyer? We're going to have dozens of options. Dozens."

"Why not just look into cases she won?" McGee asked. After a moment he frowned. "If she's a prosecutor, that is. Lost, if she's a defender."

"Because when you send someone to jail, the perp's family gets pissed off," Tony said as they headed for the truck, "and when you keep someone out of jail, the vic's family gets pissed off. Ditto for if you fail to do either."

"Oh," McGee said, and sighed a little. Tony had to feel for him. McGee might not be a probie anymore, but he was still comparatively new to investigative work. There were things you didn't get a feel for until you'd been through them a few times, and those things didn't tend to crop up all that often.

As they neared the truck, a brief scramble ensued between Tony, Kate, and McGee. This time, Tony and Kate were triumphant, claiming the two passenger seats and leaving McGee to climb into the back. Gibbs ignored the brief commotion, settling behind the wheel and glancing at the fuel gage to make sure the truck was gassed up.

"Although," Tony said, grabbing for the 'oh shit' handle as Gibbs pulled out of the parking lot, "the last lawyer case I worked, it ended up being personal. She was JAG, too. Still had to do a shitload of research, though."

"What, you couldn't pawn it off on the junior agent?" Kate asked, smirking.

Gibbs snorted a short laugh. "Tony was the junior agent," he said. "Just barely off his own probation."

"Oh, come on, Boss," Tony complained. "I was a seasoned detective. That was just a formality."

McGee's face appeared in the little window to the back of the van. "So who was the senior agent?" he asked curiously.

Tony glanced over at Gibbs just in time to see his expression go stony. "Vivian Blackadder," Gibbs said shortly. His tone did not invite further questions.

***

The vic had been shot in the street out front of her apartment building. The local LEOs had taped off a good-sized perimeter that included the front entrance of the building and a dozen cars parked on the far side of the street. Tony ducked under the tape and glanced back at the crowd of gawkers, wondering which ones were cursing the temporary loss of their vehicles. He couldn't blame them, really; he hated taking the transit to work. But a dead body took priority, so Tony put the unfortunates out of his mind and looked over the crime scene.

The dead JAG was wearing a long, navy blue overcoat. The sleeves had ridden up a bit and the hem was crumpled to one side, displaying bits of her uniform. With no ID, that must have been how the cops had known to contact NCIS. Given that the victim was sprawled face down, the only other detail Tony could take in at a glance was the short cut of her black hair. The color was a little too flat. Probably dyed. A black leather briefcase lay near her left hand, a set of keys near her right.

Tony looked up to see that Gibbs had located the officer currently handling the scene and extended his stride a bit to catch up. "Officer Victor Brown, sir," the man said, nodding politely at Gibbs.

Gibbs nodded back. "I'm Special Agent Gibbs. These are Special Agents DiNozzo," he paused just long enough for McGee and Kate to join them, "Todd, and McGee. What've we got, Officer Brown?"

"Single vic, female, gunshot wound to the chest," Brown said crisply. "Looks to me like a through and through with the exit wound in her back, but you'll want to double check. Body was found by the newspaper guy around a quarter after six this morning. I've got someone checking the last couple of stops on his route, but he's pretty well covered. Still, he's over there with Officer Leeds if you want to talk to him.

"We got an ID from one of the neighbors a minute before you arrived. Pamela Fitzpatrick, lives in 5F. Apparently she has a roommate, one," Brown checked his notes, "Gena Debowski, but the neighbor says Ms. Debowski leaves for work pretty early in the morning and comes home a little after three."

"Point me towards the helpful neighbor?" Gibbs asked, already half turned to survey the watching crowd.

Brown nodded at a young woman--twenty-something, Tony figured--standing next to another uniform. "She's waiting there with Officer Schnell. Name of Kelsey Byrne."

Young, relatively pretty girl, shaken up from losing a neighbor, needing gentle handling... Tony shot Gibbs a blatantly hopeful look. Gibbs, as expected, ignored him completely, instead nodding his thanks at Officer Brown before assigning his subordinates' duties in clipped tones.

"I get no love," Tony muttered as he went to walk the perimeter of the scene. Gibbs shot him an amused look, the kind that most people would chalk up to satisfaction at having thwarted another one of Tony's much-discussed attempts at mixing business and pleasure. And there probably was an element of that in the look, but Tony was pretty sure that most of Gibbs's amusement stemmed from the irony of the comment, given what they'd spent most of yesterday doing.

McGee was probably noting down the license plates of the cars parked along the street in his sketches of the scene, but Tony wrote them down himself anyway. Redundant information was better than missing information and they were along the perimeter. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be much else in the area. The street was asphalt, the path to the front of the building was concrete, and the strip between building and sidewalk was uniformly grassy. Nothing to hold a decent foot impression. Tony took a moment to wish it had snowed recently. He collected some detritus from the gutter, but it was all pretty standard stuff.

It was Kate, working outwards from the body, who hit the jackpot. "I've got a shell casing," she announced, bagging the little bit of brass.

Tony looked up from the evidence bag he was labeling, but Gibbs was still talking to those residents of the building who were lingering at the scene. The Arlington County PD, he knew, would be going through the building, taking statements systematically. "Gibbs is going to want the bullet," Tony said, grimacing. As he watched, there was a slight disturbance in the crowd of people gawking at the crime scene. They parted after a moment, revealing Ducky and Palmer. "On the up side, Ducky's here."

Straightening up from his crouch by the gutter, Tony followed Kate over to the truck and stowed his evidence in the back. Together they turned and watched Ducky bend over the body, Palmer hovering a few steps away. "You want the north or south side of the street?" Kate asked after a moment.

"We could wait and let Ducky tell us where the bullet is most likely to be," Tony suggested.

Kate pursed her lips. "She could have turned as she fell. There's no way to be certain that the position of the body has anything to do with the trajectory of the bullet."

"Her ankles aren't crossed and her legs aren't twisted or bent," Tony pointed out. "She probably fell straight down."

"We don't even know if the bullet exited her back, like Officer Brown thought, or if it exited her front," Kate said.

Tony unleashed a smug grin. "Which is why we should wait for Ducky."

Kate let out an exasperated breath. "I have no idea how Gibbs puts up with you."

Leaning back, hands braced on the floor of the truck, Tony quirked his eyebrows a little. "I'm worth it."

"I meant at work, Tony," Kate said, grimacing a little and dropping her eyes.

Tony sighed internally. He'd kept his distance for the past week, giving Kate space, in the hopes that all she needed was time to adapt to the knowledge of both Gibbs's nature and his relationship with Tony. Wishful thinking, Tony told himself regretfully. At this rate, not only was Kate not going to be any good at covering for the two of them, she might actually give them away with her awkwardness. Tony was going to have to talk to her, and he got the feeling it wasn't going to be nearly as painless as his conversation with McGee had been.

"So did I," he said aloud. Dropping the grin, Tony tilted his head, trying to meet her gaze. "Gibbs and I are both pretty good at compartmentalizing, Kate. You never noticed anything before and if we hadn't told you, you wouldn't be reading deeper meanings into anything we say or do now. We're still the same people we were a year ago."

"Somehow knowing I never really knew either of you at all doesn't help." Kate's voice was quiet and she still hadn't looked up. "I'm supposed--"

"DiNozzo! Todd!"

Tony's head snapped around to find Gibbs passing them as he left the watching crowd and made a beeline for Ducky. "Yeah, Boss!"

"You find my bullet?" Gibbs came to a stop just behind Ducky's shoulder, not even looking at his agents as he tendered the question.

Tony exchanged a glance with Kate. "We were just discussing where to start looking," Kate said, lifting her chin.

"Discussing it isn't going to get you any closer to finding it, Agent Todd. You and DiNozzo take the south side of the street. McGee can check the north." Gibbs, meanwhile, kept his attention on the body. "What've we got, Duck?"

Half an ear still on Gibbs and Ducky, Tony turned to the south side of the street. The side with the apartment building and the grass, damn it. That's what you get for trying to take the easy way out, he reminded himself. You'd think I'd know better by now.

"Single gunshot wound to the chest." Ducky's voice drifted toward Tony from behind as he and Kate headed down the concrete path to the front of the apartment building. "Medium caliber bullet. It was a through and through, exiting the young lady's upper back. Lividity suggests she died in this position and, given the size of the blood pool, I expect the bullet did considerable damage. She died before she could bleed out."

There was a pause. Tony strained his ears as he and Kate worked their way from the front doors of the building towards the corners, looking for the bullet. "That's it?" Gibbs asked.

"I'm afraid so, Jethro." Ducky's tone was regretful. "Not every case comes equipped with the fantastic."

Tony snorted to himself. "You wouldn't know it by our track record," he muttered. Quietly.

"Time of death?" Gibbs prompted.

"Her liver temperature is still fairly high and rigor mortis has yet to set in. I'd estimate not more than three hours ago."

Around five a.m. at the earliest. We were called in about seven, after the cops had secured the scene, Tony noted with interest. Though really, in a neighborhood like this one it would have been more unusual if a body sprawled in the middle of the street hadn't been found quickly.

The front of the apartment building, unfortunately, yielded no bullets. Tony turned after he'd reached the corner and glanced first at Kate and then McGee, but both of them just shook their heads. No bullet there either. Tony turned a dejected expression on the expanse of wet, and therefore muddy, grass and reluctantly dropped down to hands and knees to start looking. It was fucking cold, too. "Times like this I wish metal detectors were standard issue in the van," he muttered. If they weren't able to find the bullet on their own they'd go back for the detectors, of course, but Gibbs wasn't the type to waste time retrieving extra equipment just for their convenience. They were here and they had eyes; he'd expect them to find the bullet.

By the time he'd been over a strip of grass two feet wide Tony's slacks were wet through to the knees and the moisture was starting to wick further up his leg. Fingers ruffling the grass, he kept looking, trying to ignore the moments when he swore he could physically feel Gibbs's gaze touch down on him.

Something dull and gray caught his eye. Holding his breath, Tony pried it up, hoping it wasn't another pebble. He brushed the dirt away and sat back on his heels, grinning triumphantly. "I got the bullet, Boss!" Dropping it into an evidence bag, Tony filled out the label with a black marker before climbing to his feet and plucking at his slacks to pull the damp material away from his skin.

Tony crossed the lawn and met Gibbs at the curb. The senior agent took the evidence bag out of Tony's hands and held it up, squinting a little at the bullet within. "Looks like it's in pretty good shape," he said with satisfaction. Kate and McGee joined them as Gibbs turned to regard the crime scene. "The killer was between the vic and the cars. They were facing each other when she was shot, but it doesn't look like she tried to run."

"Someone she knew, maybe?" Tony suggested.

"Or someone with a concealed weapon." Kate walked over to where she'd found the shell casing and looked back at the body. "They were a fair distance apart. Even if she knew her killer, she'd have had at least enough time to turn, once she realized they were serious."

"That shell wasn't very far from the cars," McGee added. "Maybe she was shot from inside one of them?"

"If that was the case, the killer would probably have taken the car with him," Tony pointed out. "But the shell doesn't seem to have been disturbed."

"Check the cars for GSR anyway," Gibbs said briskly. Turning, he considered the front of the apartment building. "McGee. The building probably has security cameras. See if you can get the manager to volunteer the tapes."

"Got it, Boss," McGee acknowledged, heading for the lobby at a brisk walk.

Tony sighed. He and Kate got stuck testing cars to check McGee's theory. Sometimes life just wasn't fair. But he jogged over to the truck to retrieve a handful of swabs without complaint. Gibbs wouldn't tolerate a complaint. Tony split the swabs with Kate on his way back and the two of them got down to business. A gurney rattled by them as they worked, Palmer shepherding it along. Tony paused, glancing over his shoulder as Palmer and Ducky tucked the body into a body bag and lifted it onto the gurney.

It was all very routine. Maybe that's why it seemed to hit so close to home.

***

It turned out that Lieutenant Pamela Fitzpatrick was a lawyer. Tony managed to contain his groan of dismay when they found out, which, he suspected, was the only reason he was working up her background instead of nagging JAG to release all her case files for the past year. Kate got stuck doing that instead. McGee was down in the lab with Abby, working on the crime scene reconstruction while she processed the evidence they'd delivered.

Tony wasn't quite sure why McGee had to be down there to do the reconstruction, instead of at his desk. Maybe the software was there. Softly, Tony snorted to himself. Yeah, right. More like he prefers the company.

Still, despite any perks McGee might be getting out of the arrangement, it was the best use of the team's resources. Gibbs was a master when it came to managing his people, even if not everyone agreed with his methods. Tony smiled a little to himself as he wondered if that skill was common to every centaur stallion or if it was something particular to Gibbs. It seemed like a necessary attribute for an individual who was born to command and care for a few dozen people. On the other hand, not every male centaur made it as herd stallion.

Tony threw a quick glance at Gibbs. He was intent on his computer screen. Reading, it looked like. Tony knew he'd be tracking down Fitzpatrick's posting and reading up on her coworkers, boss, and roommate. Gibbs's interrogation skills needed a foundation, after all.

Hopefully, he wouldn't get the bit in his teeth over this the way he did over so many of their cases. The weekend was starting to look further and further away; a good night at home would help tide them over.

You're getting domestic, DiNozzo, Tony told himself, shaking his head silently as he focused back on his work. Since when is going home and having a quiet night more appealing than working a murder case? A small smile curled the edge of his mouth. You know when.

Still, for all his thoughts of home and bed and Gibbs, Pamela Fitzpatrick's history was interesting. Tony loved this: following the thread of someone's life and watching it grow into a tapestry.

Except if Fitzpatrick's life was a tapestry, it was one worn distinctly thin in places. Or perhaps it hadn't been woven all that tightly the first time around. There was nothing precisely missing, but Tony wasn't seeing the level of detail he'd come to expect from years of researching backgrounds like this.

He found the names and address of her adoptive parents, but when he tried to find her biological parents he came up even more blank than was usual with adoptions. It was like she'd just been left on someone's doorstep. He found medical records...which showed no history of illness or trauma prior to eighteen years ago, although the usual immunizations did appear. Even after that point her medical records were spotty. It was as if Fitzpatrick had a phobia of doctors, going to them only when forced to.

She had a high school diploma, but was listed as home schooled, which meant that there was none of the documentation a formal high school would have provided. That detail only appeared later, when she'd started college and then law school. Maybe her parents were obsessively controlling, Tony mused. That would explain the thinness of many of the records, and the apparent lack of contact between her and her family now. Fitzpatrick's roommate was listed as her contact, beneficiary, or next of kin on all the paperwork. Without exception.

The thinness of Fitzpatrick's history, and the reason for it, might or might not be pertinent to the investigation, but right now they didn't know anything, which meant everything unusual had to be checked.

Tony blinked, rubbed at his temples, and glanced at his computer's clock. Everything should be checked...after lunch. It was past one o'clock already and he never concentrated well when he was hungry. He leaned back from the screen, rolling his shoulders, and pressed his hands to the top of his desk as he stood. "Boss, I'm going for lunch. You want me to bring you back something?" Gibbs grunted, which Tony took as a yes. "Kate, you coming?"

Kate paused in reading whatever was on her screen and looked across the aisle at him. "You buying?"

That was code for How much do you want me to come along? "Sure," Tony said easily. "But if I'm buying, that means I'm choosing."

Hesitating for a moment, Kate finally pursed her lips, nodded, and grabbed her purse and jacket. "As long as there is something on the menu not exclusively made of grease."

"Hey, it takes a lot of calories to maintain a body like this," Tony said, smirking as they headed for the elevator.

Kate looked over at him and rolled her eyes ostentatiously. "There's a difference between having it and knowing how to use it, DiNozzo. I can put you on the floor more than half the time."

"This body is multipurpose," Tony said, waggling his eyebrows. "I make love and war."

The momentary pause before Kate's response was painfully awkward. "Particularly accurate given how many of your encounters seem to make the transition. Your car has been egged how many times?"

"Just the once." The elevator dinged its arrival; Tony waited for the occupants to step off before he stepped on. "And that was an exception. A freak occurrence."

"That's not the only freakish thing going on around here," Kate shot back.

This time it was Tony who fumbled the return quip, but at least they were safely ensconced in the elevator. "Sorry," he said after a moment, sighing and reaching out to press the button for the ground floor.

Kate grimaced briefly. "This is why we're going to lunch, isn't it?"

"Aside from being honestly hungry and tired of staring at a computer screen, yeah." Tony shook his head. "I don't know how McGee does it. He even stares at a computer for fun. By all rights, his eyeballs ought to shrivel up and roll out of the sockets."

"That's disgusting, Tony." Kate wrinkled her nose. "Could you get any more graphic?"

"Sure," Tony said easily. "But I thought details on how they shrink and get all white and kind of gummy looking and end up hanging out on his cheeks like--"

"Stop!" Kate held up a hand. "Rhetorical question. Thank you." She shuddered just as the elevator chimed its arrival and the doors slid open.

Tony grinned broadly and followed her out, nodding cheerfully at the confused people who had been waiting. "I'd think after three years of this job you'd have developed a stronger stomach."

"The fact that I can handle the gross details when necessary doesn't mean I want to hear about them when I don't have to," Kate said, shoving her hands into her pockets. "Do we need the car to get to lunch? I don't want to walk too far in this cold."

It was only a little below freezing, but Tony restrained himself from ribbing her about it. "I figured we'd go to that place on the corner. I can have a burger and you can get a salad or something."

Kate nodded her agreement and set off at a brisk pace. Tony jogged a couple of steps to catch up with her and settled into a walk at her shoulder. They were quiet for awhile. It would have been more comfortable if he'd kept the conversation going, but they could trade barbs for hours without really saying anything and for once Tony was resigned to actually talking. But that didn't mean he had to start; he'd already made the first move by asking Kate out to lunch.

"I am trying," Kate said, sighing heavily.

"What's so hard about it?" Tony turned his head to look at her, but she wasn't meeting his eyes. "You never seemed to have much of a problem with gay people when we ran across them in our cases. Well, except when they were the killers."

A wry smile twisted Kate's lips. "It's a lot easier to live and let live when you don't care about the people you're let living. No matter how much you piss me off sometimes, I don't want-- I still worry about you."

"This is why I'm a lapsed Catholic," Tony muttered. He resisted the urge to rub at his forehead, shoving his hands into his pockets instead. "Do you seriously think I'm going to go to Hell for being with Gibbs?"

"I didn't say that," Kate said quickly. "But..." She shrugged helplessly. "All my instincts are telling me that you're making a mistake. That you'd be better off with a woman. I can't help feeling that, no matter how much I try to think it through and tell myself it's better for you to be committed to someone than it is for you to be sleeping around."

"If that's the only argument you've got in favor of my relationship with Gibbs, we really do need to talk," Tony said dryly. "What did Gibbs tell you and McGee, anyway? He only told me that you knew."

They arrived at the restaurant and the conversation was put on hold while they were seated and served drinks. Tony pushed the menu aside, already knowing what he wanted, and let Kate make her choice before he raised a prompting eyebrow.

She sighed and poked at the ice in her diet coke with the straw for a moment. "Just that you were lovers," she said, lowering her voice just a little, "had been for nearly a year, and were exclusive. And that you two got together after you found out about him."

"Pretty much in those words, too, I bet," Tony said, shaking his head. He took a long sip from his own drink, wishing for a moment that the coke were a beer instead. A little alcohol would make this conversation a lot easier to handle. Finally he met Kate's eyes. "Would it help if I told you that this isn't just about sex?" She squirmed uncomfortably, but Tony pressed onward. "Because it isn't. I've never felt like this for anyone before. Not even close."

"But why Gibbs?" Kate asked intently.

Tony shrugged. "Why not Gibbs?"

Dryly, Kate responded, "Second B for bastard?"

"People call him that because he demands the best from everyone around him and doesn't waste time playing nice," Tony said. "And yeah, sometimes it's a little hard to take, but he also gets results like no one else. When our cases are over and done with, aren't you glad he pushed?"

"'You might not like his methods, but you gotta love the results,'" Kate quoted Gibbs. "You two have a lot more in common than it seems, sometimes."

"Answer your own question?"

"No," Kate denied. She pushed a lock of hair behind one ear and leaned forward on the table confidentially. "There's a difference between respecting someone professionally enough to put up with their shit and choosing to spend your down time with them. I just can't see you two in a real relationship."

"Me and Gibbs specifically, or any two men?" Tony asked.

Kate snorted. "Let's stick to you and Gibbs," she said wryly. "Abby is working on the other already."

"So what constitutes a 'real' relationship? Living together?" Tony raised his eyebrows. "Making babies? Holding dinner parties? 'Cause my parents did all of that and I'm not too interested in duplicating their relationship."

"I don't know!" Kate scowled. "I'd know it if I saw it."

"What, you want me to invite you over to Gibbs's place for dinner some time?" Wouldn't that be an interesting night. Not.

"God, no," Kate said fervently. "That would be impossibly weird."

"Then I guess you'll just have to take my word for it that it's a 'real' relationship." Tony paused as their server arrived with lunch and went on as he arranged the toppings on his burger. "We spend most nights together these days. And I'm not talking about sex. Well, not just about sex." Tony had to grin at Kate's expression. "I'm talking about having dinner and watching TV or reading or watching Gibbs work on the boat," he went on. "We've taken weekends off together. We've even been on a couple of honest to God dates." Tony took a bite out of his burger and studied Kate as he chewed. She was staring down at her chicken Caesar salad, poking at the lettuce but not actually consuming it. He swallowed and wiped his mouth quickly. "And none of that helps at all, does it?"

Kate grimaced. "Sorry, no," she said. "I don't know if anything will, except time. I just need to get used to the idea."

"I don't think time alone is going to do it," Tony said reluctantly.

"It's only been a month since I found out, DiNozzo," Kate said, exasperated. "A week since you came back to work. Can't you just let me take this at my own pace?"

Damn it, I didn't want to push. "No. I can't." Kate opened her mouth and Tony shook his head sharply. "Gibbs and I can't afford to be found out, Kate. It's bad enough that you and McGee and Abby and Ducky know. Two people can keep a secret if one of them is dead. Six? We're gonna need all the help we can get."

"I told Gibbs I wouldn't tell on you." An edge of offense sharpened Kate's voice.

"I didn't say you would," Tony shot back. "But the way you're acting around the two of us, you don't need to."

"All I can do is try, Tony." The line of Kate's jaw was firm. Unyielding. "And I am trying. I'm not like Abby and McGee. This didn't just slot neatly into the way I see the world."

Tony sighed and went back to work on his burger and while he thought. After a moment it occurred to him that this conversation had been oddly one-sided in content. He swallowed and took a long sip of his drink. "So what about Gibbs?"

"What about Gibbs?" Kate said sharply. Defensively.

Tony could feel his eyebrows fly up. "What, did he chew you out or something?" As far as Tony knew, Kate hadn't screwed up badly enough lately to warrant the kind of dressing down that might prompt that reaction.

"No," Kate said shortly. After a moment she sighed and intently stabbed a piece of chicken and a lettuce leaf, chewing with determination.

Tony waited for her to elaborate, but she just kept working at her lunch, apparently not interested in talking. Well, Tony wasn't about to let her get away with that, not after the way he'd all but spilled his guts. "If you don't explain, I'm going to ask Gibbs," he said casually, taking another bite of his burger.

"Oh you are just like a little kid, running to daddy," Kate said, tossing her fork into the bowl with a clatter.

Oh, I shouldn't, I really, really shouldn't, but...it's just too perfect. "Actually, age play is one thing I'm not into." Tony grinned as Kate sputtered wordlessly. This was definitely an unexpected benefit of being with Gibbs. And to think, he'd always thought that Kate's love life provided the best leverage. "Come on, Kate. Spill."

She glared at him. "It's not your problem."

Tony had to suppress a frown. If I was a woman, she'd have assumed that anything to do with my partner was my business. But then, a relationship with a woman would be a real relationship. "You've got a problem with me being with Gibbs, but you haven't said a word about it from the other side of the fence. If there's a reason for that, it sure as Hell is my problem."

"It's got nothing to do with you," Kate said, picking up her fork and stabbing at the remaining salad with it. "I've got bigger problems when it comes to Gibbs than who he's sleeping with."

Tony blinked. "Bigger problems than whether or not he's going to Hell? Since that's what you seem to think about me."

Kate blew a harsh breath out through her lips before looking up and meeting Tony's eyes reluctantly. "I have to figure out whether or not Gibbs has a soul before I worry about the state of it."

Whether or not...? "What the Hell?" Tony said, not angry, just kind of stunned. "Did you really just say what I think you just said?"

"You've got good ears, Tony," Kate snapped, stabbing her food again but not eating any more of it.

"Yeah, I just can't believe what I heard." Tony shook his head, put his burger down, and wiped off his hands. Somehow it didn't seem right to talk about this while holding onto a half-eaten meal. "Why on Earth wouldn't he have a soul?"

"I thought you were a lapsed Catholic," Kate shot back. "Why do you care?"

"I care that you seriously believe it might be possible that the man I respect above all others is souless," Tony snapped. "Jesus. It doesn't matter what I believe; I know what that means to a Catholic."

Kate dropped her fork and rubbed at her temples. "Then you ought to know why I'm not sure. Tony," she paused and lowered her voice, whispering, "he's not human!"

"Who says that humans have a monopoly on souls?" Tony hissed back. "He's a thinking, reasoning being. What more evidence do you need that he has a soul?"

"I don't know." Kate grimaced in frustration. "They don't exactly cover this sort of thing in Sunday school. As far as I know, centaurs don't even appear in Christian mythology. Surely if they were creatures of God they'd be mentioned somewhere."

Depends on which god you're thinking of, Tony thought wryly. But he didn't say anything--bringing Zeus into this wouldn't help, whether or not Tony believed in him personally. "The Bible isn't exactly an infallible record," Tony pointed out instead. "It was written by men. Centaurs are a pretty private species. And from what Gibbs has told me, until a couple hundred years ago, they pretty much stuck to Greece. And it's not like the Bible accounts for every species on the planet; some of them just weren't known at the time. No one assumes that that means those species aren't part of God's plan."

Picking up her fork again, Kate seemed to think about that as she made a dent in her lunch. Tony forced himself to be quiet and wait for her to think. "I wish it was that easy," she said, not looking up from her salad. "Like you said, centaurs are thinking, reasoning beings. That's a little more important than accounting for every species of lemur. I can't just assume that something that important was overlooked, because then what else got overlooked? It could break down a big chunk of the foundation of my faith and I'm not ready for that, Tony. I have to assume that there's some other explanation.

"I just-- I haven't got a framework for making sense of this. And frankly," she looked up at him, "I don't understand how you can be so calm about the whole thing."

Tony wished he could tell her he'd just had more time to get used to it, but even the first time he'd seen Gibbs change he'd hadn't been this thrown off by the discovery. He finished off his burger while he organized his thoughts. "I don't know what to tell you," Tony said finally, taking a sip of his drink. "Maybe the difference was in the circumstances. I had a chance to just look my fill, to touch him and make it real." Tony paused, remembering the moment when he'd laid hands on Gibbs for the first time. The fine grain of his coat, the heat of him under Tony's palm, the way his skin had twitched, the flush in his face... "And then he kissed me and I had more important things to worry about," Tony said, smirking.

"I thought you two got together after you found out?" Kate asked, brow wrinkling.

"We did," Tony confirmed. He grinned suddenly. "By a couple of days. That was our first kiss. Gibbs kicked me out about ten seconds later."

Kate still looked confused. "So, more important things were...?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Getting a repeat of that kiss, to start."

"That took precedence over dealing with the fact that the man isn't human?"

Resisting the urge to thump his head against the table was a minor triumph. "Yeah, Kate, it did. Maybe you didn't have a chance to absorb this when you saw him change, but Gibbs is still very much himself in centaur shape. Hell, sometimes I think he's more himself, if only because he stops holding back." Tony stopped himself there, just. Dominance was another thing this conversation didn't need to get into. "The most important thing about Gibbs changing in front of me was the fact that he'd let me into a pretty serious part of his personal life."

Kate didn't answer, instead intently forking up the last fragments of her chicken Caesar salad. Tony made himself wait, scarfing down French fries to stop himself from filling the silence with more commentary. It wasn't until Kate polished off the last of her food and sat back in her seat, her drink held between her hands, that she spoke again. "Do you think Gibbs would change for me? Just to give me a calm moment to sort of...absorb things?"

Would he? Tony doubted it, but it was worth asking. "I'll ask him," he said, shrugging. "But don't hold your breath."

"When it comes to Gibbs?" Kate smiled ruefully. "Never."

***

Tony was stepping off the elevator before he remembered that he'd meant to bring back lunch for Gibbs. Sure, the man hadn't said he wanted food, but he'd probably be expecting it anyway. Wincing in anticipation, Tony turned the corner into their aisle of desks and opened his mouth to deliver God knew what excuse.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked, standing and donning gun and jacket. "Get your gear."

Blinking, Tony closed his mouth and scooped his gun up out of its desk drawer. "What's up, Boss?"

"Interviews," Gibbs said shortly. "Kate!" Her head snapped up attentively even as she sank back into her chair. "You'll have those files by the time we get back."

Kate grimaced but nodded. "Of course."

Then Gibbs was off again and Tony was trailing along behind him. "We interviewing co-workers or neighbors?" he asked as they stepped into the elevator.

"Roommate," Gibbs said. "The PD called to say they'd finished with her. She should be getting home just as we get there."

Knowing the way Gibbs drove, Tony suspected they'd get there first. But then, Tony was pretty sure that was part of the plan. She'd be less guarded in her own home, more likely to let something slip, if there was something to let slip. And while Gibbs worked on that, he could be taking a look around. Silently, Tony cursed himself for not studying a photo of Gena Debowski when he'd started working up Pamela Fitzpatrick's background. It would have been nice to know who she was when she showed up.

The crime scene tape was still up around most of the street out front of the building, but now that the body had been taken away the gawkers had dwindled to the occasional pedestrian rubber-necking as they went by. Gibbs and Tony flashed their ID at the cop who was keeping an eye on the scene and headed into the apartment complex.

Gibbs paused in the lobby and pulled out his cell phone. Glancing at his watch, Tony could see it was exactly three o'clock. Gibbs dialed, waited, phone to his ear, and nodded in satisfaction after a moment. He flipped the cell shut without speaking. "Ms. Debowski isn't home yet," he announced. "We'll meet her here."

Tony bobbed his head agreeably and took the time to look around the lobby while he waited. It was a pretty nice building, although not really high end. The front doors were glass. A dark gray, ribbed runner led straight from the front doors to the elevator at the back of the lobby, presumably to reduce wear on the rest of the carpet, which was pale blue with dark purple flecks. The walls were painted a pale gray. Most of the right hand wall was taken up by a bank of stainless steel mailboxes. Tony did a quick count of rows and columns and came up with a total of forty-eight apartments. The elevator had eight floor indicators, which worked out to six apartments per floor. That meant that 5F--Pamela Fitzpatrick and Gena Debowski's home--was an end apartment.

The left-hand side of the lobby featured several nondescript art prints and a door with a brass plaque that read "Building Manager". Gibbs didn't even give the manager's office a glance. Maybe he'd already talked to the man that morning. Depending on what Ms. Debowski said, Tony figured they might be knocking on that door on their way out.

It was ten past three and Tony had been reduced to staring at the art prints by the time he spotted a shift in Gibbs's body language. Taking a couple of steps to put him back at Gibbs's side, Tony followed his gaze to find a woman in a long, pale lavender rain jacket pausing half way through the glass doors. She was partially turned, looking back at the crime scene even as she stepped into building.

She didn't pause to extend the look, though, just continued on through the front door, turning toward Gibbs and Tony as she let it go to thump shut behind her. Seeing them watching her, the pain in her expression took on a wary edge.

"Ms. Debowski?" Gibbs inquired.

"Yes?" She turned and almost casually reached out to lay one hand on the front door handle behind her. Tony could feel his body tensing, his heartbeat picking up, preparing for a chase.

"I'm Special Agent Gibbs, this is Special Agent DiNozzo. We're with NCIS." He paused.

"NCIS?" Ms. Debowski asked, filling in her part of the script perfectly on cue.

"Naval Criminal Investigative Service." Gibbs explained without any apparent annoyance and displayed his badge for her. Tony followed suit. "We'd like a word with you in private."

"Naval Criminal..." She trailed off and glanced back at the crime scene that currently dominated the front of the building. Her shoulders slowly slumped and she hung her head for a long moment. When she looked up again she took her hand off the door and turned to face them squarely. She swallowed visibly before speaking. "We can talk in my apartment."

Gibbs nodded and turned, gesturing for her to precede him to the elevator. She nodded, as if to herself, and strode down the runner. Tony followed her and Gibbs. They rode up to the fifth floor and turned right down the hallway. 5F was, as Tony had expected, an end apartment.

Ms. Debowski pushed the apartment door open and hung her purse and jacket on a pair of hooks by the door. Her keys went on a smaller hook just outside of the kitchen area. From there she took a couple of steps into the living area, stopped, and turned, her arms wrapped around herself, elbows clasped in either hand.

Tony could see now that she'd been wearing a blue and red waitress's uniform under the coat. Nothing fancy. "Rosie's" was embroidered on a breast pocket. Diner, Tony concluded silently.

Ms. Debowski waited until they'd stepped into the living area with her before speaking, as if it wouldn't be polite to chat in the short hallway. "This is about Pam," she said, voice breaking just a little.

"Yes," Gibbs said neutrally.

Her hands fluttered a little aimlessly. "I've... I've been at the police station," she said weakly. "I had to leave work early to...see Pam. Give a statement. I thought... Why can't that be the end of it?"

"This is a murder investigation, Ms. Debowski," Gibbs said flatly. Harsh, but her reactions would tell them more than her words.

A small, pathetic noise escaped Gena. She put a hand up to her mouth as if to still it and a pair of tears broke free and ran down her cheeks. "You don't think...," she said, hand trembling in front of her mouth. She took a visible breath. "I'm sorry, I know you have to talk to everyone she knew. " Her hand dropped and she laced her fingers together, clinging to herself. "You know, when the police told me," she ducked her head, "I wished she'd been the suspect, not the...the victim. At least then she'd still be...be here. Is that wrong of me?"

"It's understandable." Gibbs's voice was infinitely gentler now. It was obvious that Gena hadn't killed her roommate. "I'm sorry, but we need to ask you some questions. Maybe have a look around."

"Of course," Gena said. She raised a hand and wiped at her eyes. Her mascara smeared. "Damn it," she cursed softly, looking at the black streak on her hand. She looked up and smiled sheepishly, eyes still watery. "I must look horrible. Pam always tells me I ought to buy--" She broke off. "Oh God. Please, I just need to--" She turned and fled, presumably to the bathroom, without finishing the sentence.

Tony paused to make sure she wasn't going to return quickly and cast a glance at Gibbs. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Depends on what you're thinking, doesn't it?" Gibbs returned, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm thinking that that was kind of an extreme reaction for a roommate."

Gibbs smiled and shook his head a little. Tony shrugged internally. Okay, so maybe they were really close friends as well as roommates, but he generally had good instincts about these things. He'd see what he found in the bedrooms.

While they were waiting for Gena to return Tony explored the kitchen. Almost all the counter space was taken, crowded with appliances: a food processor, a toaster, two slow cookers, an electric frying pan, a George Foreman grill, and a coffee maker. All things designed to make cooking and meals easier or faster. The fridge and freezer were smallish. There were a few photos tacked to the freezer door: a group picture that looked like Gena with her family and several pictures of the two roommates somewhere that looked tropical. Their arms were linked and they grinned at the camera so broadly it must have hurt.

Strangely enough, there also seemed to be a picture of Fitzpatrick with her family. Tony would have thought that someone who hadn't been in touch with her parents for years wouldn't be too inclined to keep their picture around. Maybe the older couple were friends or mentors and not her parents at all.

At the sound of footsteps Tony returned to the living room. Gena seemed calmer now. She'd wiped off all of her make up and her skin was a little pink from scrubbing. Still, her eyes were puffy from crying and she kept taking steadying breaths.

"You wanted to ask some questions," she managed after a moment.

"That's right," Gibbs nodded. "Do you mind if Agent DiNozzo looks around while we talk?"

Gena looked over and met Tony's gaze. "Go ahead," she said, tucking a lock of hair behind one ear. "No secrets here." Tony got the strangest feeling that she'd been about to add something to that comment, but just nodded and started looking over the living room, half an ear trained on Gibbs and Gena.

The furniture was IKEA, but it was decent stuff and it all matched. The color scheme of the apartment was lavender and dark gray, from the drapes to the furniture to the carpet.

"Can you think of any reason someone might want to hurt Pam?" Gibbs was asking.

Gena laughed, as if at a joke, but it was thin. "Pam was a lawyer. But...well, her cases didn't usually go to trial. Pam wasn't really high profile. When she did end up on a trial case, she rarely made the arguments. She was a part of a team and that part of it usually fell to other lawyers."

"Did she have a problem with that?" Gibbs asked.

Two doors opened off the living room; one was open and the other was closed. Tony stepped through the open door and into a bedroom. It was a good-sized room, for an apartment. The bed was pushed up against the wall underneath the window. A desk and several sets of bookshelves lined the other walls. He leaned over and began poking through the papers on the desk, keeping half an ear on the conversation in the other room.

"No. Pam likes...liked flying under the radar. She wanted to do a good job. She was proud of what she did. She always said she could do without the stress of making the trial arguments. She was a wreck when, rarely, that job fell to her; staying up all night, spending hours getting dressed, practicing the arguments on me..." Gena trailed off.

Everything on the desk belonged to Pamela Fitzpatrick. Most of it was work related, but there were a few post-it notes with reminders on them like 'laundry' and 'dinner, Thurs, 6pm'. There was no computer on the desk, but there was a printer and a roughly square space free of paper. Tony poked his head back into the living room. He caught Gibbs's eye for a moment, then looked to Gena. "Ms. Debowski," he said, "did Pam have a computer?"

"Yeah," she replied. "A laptop. She takes...took it to work in the mornings and brought it home at night."

Damn. It would have been a much better lead if someone had taken it. Still could have been, he supposed, but he thought it was more likely that it had been in the briefcase Kate had bagged at the scene. "Thanks," he said aloud and ducked back into the bedroom.

"How were things at work for her lately?" Gibbs went on. "Did she mention anything about stressful cases or arguments? Anything could be important, no matter how small."

The two bookshelves immediately next to the desk were all legal reference. Some of the titles alone made Tony's eyes cross. The rest were all fiction, the books in alphabetical order by author. It was quite a mix, from what Tony recognized. Historical fiction, mysteries, romance, some fantasy, a little science fiction. No horror that Tony could see. No gaps in the shelves, either. There was a neat stack of books on the floor next to the door. Tony had to shake his head at the thought of running out of shelf space.

There was a small freestanding wardrobe at the end of the bed. Opening it, Tony found pressed uniforms and carefully polished shoes lined up in rows. There was no casual clothing at all. Not even underwear.

Tony closed the closet door thoughtfully and turned around to take another overall look at the room before he moved on. The bed was neatly made. The open blinds let sunlight into the room. It spilled over the bed but, thanks to the angle, didn't reach the computer. There was no bedside table, but the desk was close enough that Tony supposed it could double as one.

Listening with half an ear to Gibbs's questions--how were things at work for Pam? did she have trouble with her co-workers? had she seemed upset by anything in particular recently? did she seem worried?--Tony went back into the living room and opened the closed door. There was a pause in the flow of words behind him, but when he glanced over his shoulder at Gena she just shrugged and waved for him to go in.

It was another bedroom, smaller than the first. The queen size bed made it seem even smaller than that. There was no desk and no bookshelves, though there was an ancient beanbag chair in one corner and a reading lamp bent over it. Two dressers took most of the rest of the space, leaving just a narrow aisle between them and the bed. That piece of furniture was unmade. Clothing was draped everywhere. It looked like someone had gotten dressed in a hurry.

Tony picked his way around the clothing to the bedside table. Notepad, pens, pencils, hair accessories--the first drawer was full of all sorts of odds and ends. The second drawer, when he pulled it out, held two vibrators, a magic egg with a variety of sleeves, and a small bottle of lube. He couldn't help a grin and a shake of his head.

Tony's examinations of the room's closet and the bathroom just off the front hallway were cursory. He'd already found what he was looking for.

Back in the living room Gibbs had perched on the edge of the couch. Gena was seated awkwardly in an armchair. She looked like she wanted to curl up in it, but her uniform skirt wouldn't allow it.

Seating himself next to Gibbs on the couch, Tony waited until she finished her sentence before interjecting his own question: "Gena. How long have you and Pam been together?"

She froze for an instant. "We've been roommates for three years now," she said after the moment had passed. Watching closely, Tony could see the tightness around her eyes, the slight glitter of tears threatening to spill again.

"You know that's not what I meant," he said quietly. "That isn't a bedroom." He lifted his chin towards the first room he'd examined. "That's an office."

"Just like a man to think that if two women are close, they have to be sleeping together," Gena said, one corner of her mouth turned up into something that wasn't really a smile. Tony could see the tension in her jaw.

As it turned out, so could Gibbs. "Ms. Debowski," he said firmly. "If you and Lieutenant Fitzpatrick were lovers, that could be the motive for her murder."

Gena's hand flew up to her mouth at the word, but a choked sound still escaped. She swallowed, then took a deep breath behind her hand before lowering it again. "We weren't--" She broke off.

"Under the circumstances," Gibbs said, very softly, "I don't think Pam would mind."

Gena rubbed at her eyes, smearing away tears before they could fall again. "I don't... We... That can't have been why," she said finally, looking down at her hands. "We were so careful. We were good at keeping secrets. I don't think anyone knew for sure."

Tony felt a tiny thread of tension ease somewhere deep inside at her words. He'd been right. They were lovers.

Like he and Gibbs were.

This could be me. Tony knew he was nodding in the right places and looking attentive, because Gena wasn't giving him any strange looks, but he couldn't really hear a word either she or Gibbs were saying. If we aren't careful enough, this could be me. How careful is careful enough? Gena thought they were okay and look at her now.

You always knew what you were getting into, Tony reminded himself. You've been a cop long enough to know what the risks are. You can't freeze up every time it gets thrown in your face.

Gibbs was standing. Tony did the same, then followed Gibbs out the door and down in the elevator and into the car. Gibbs slid the key into the ignition but didn't start the car right away, instead turning his head to give Tony a look. "Tony."

Tony grimaced. "Sorry, boss," he said quickly. "Won't happen again."

Gibbs turned the key, the engine coughed to life, and they pulled out into the street. "This isn't the first case like this we've worked."

"It's the first case exactly like this we've worked since you and I hooked up," Tony pointed out.

For a long moment Gibbs was silent. "So it is," he said eventually. He shot Tony a sidelong glance. "That going to be a problem?"

Tony waved the question off. "Like I said, it won't happen again." He wished he could say he was just surprised, but he'd had his suspicions from the moment they broke the news to Gena. And it wasn't like he wasn't aware of the potential consequences of his relationship with Gibbs, but looking those consequences in the eye had been harder than he'd expected.

Shifting in the seat a little, Tony leaned against the window and watched Gibbs as he drove, reminding himself why he was taking the risk Gena Debowski had.

"So where're we headed now?" he asked after a long moment, reaching out to turn up the heat in the car. The cold December weather was seeping in through the window glass.

"To interview Fitzpatrick's co-workers. Find out if--"

"--they had any idea about her relationship with her 'roommate'," Tony finished. "Does this mean we have to interview the JAG again?"

Gibbs shot him an amused glance. "You've worked with plenty of Navy lawyers in the past four years, Tony. And it'll be a different JAG; Admiral Chegwidden has retired."

"Somehow, I don't think the new one will be any friendlier when he realizes that his people are our prime suspects," Tony argued. "Again."

"We exonerated Rabb," Gibbs pointed out.

"You exonerated Rabb," Tony muttered. Gibbs just smiled.

As expected, neither the JAG nor his people were particularly pleased to see them, despite the fact that many of the personnel who had worked there nearly five years ago had since retired or been reassigned. But in spite of their displeasure, they cooperated fully and willingly.

Unfortunately, none of them had anything to say that helped at all in the investigation. Every one of them had expressed surprise at learning of Fitzpatrick's relationship with her roommate and Tony was pretty confident that they were being honest. Even if that seemed an unnatural state for a lawyer.

Nor were Fitzpatrick's current cases anything special, according to the JAG. They'd all have to be interviewed again once Kate had completed her research into Fitzpatrick's caseload, but at the moment they were running out of leads fast.

"We've got a dead lesbian military lawyer," Tony said as he and Gibbs stepped off the elevator and into the mostly dark squad room. Kate and McGee were nowhere to be seen. "You'd think our problem would be too many suspects, not a total lack of them."

"It's early yet. We haven't even got the forensics back." Gibbs picked up his telephone and dialed.

Tony checked the time. 5:38pm. "Everyone's probably gone home, Boss."

Gibbs grunted and dropped the receiver into the cradle. He checked his own watch and paused for a long time. Long enough for Tony to begin to wonder if he was going to call the rest of the team back in, but eventually he started gathering his things in preparation for going home. Tony let out a silent breath of relief and went to his own desk to follow suit.

They left together, went to their separate cars, and drove to their separate homes. Tony walked in through his front door, dropped his car keys on his kitchen table, and made his way back to his bedroom, where he changed into black jeans and a near-metallic blue shirt. He rolled up the sleeves of the shirt before slipping into a black leather jacket, stuffing his wallet into his back pocket, and calling a cab. He winked at one of his neighbors on his way down the stairs.

The cab took him to a popular club. He paid the cover charge, wormed his way through the crowd to the bar, and bought a bottle of water. He finished it, forcing himself not to hurry, before he pushed through the crowd to the back door, where he slipped out again. Tony paused in the alley behind the club before turning to the left and setting out briskly. Six blocks later he ducked into a restaurant and had the host call him a cab. It dropped him off three blocks from Gibbs's home. He walked the rest of the way.

Up until this afternoon, he'd thought the precautions were excessive.

Despite all his care, Tony paused at the back door of Gibbs's home and knocked, waiting for a moment before turning the knob and letting himself in. If someone ever did catch just the tail end of this journey, it would be a lot easier to justify a polite, announced visit than it would be to explain why he had the right to just walk in like it was his own home.

Tony smelled the food before he got to the kitchen. Blue cheese and horseradish and steak and the warm scent of butter and the sharper scent of salad dressing. Tony's stomach growled as he stepped into the kitchen behind Gibbs.

"Next time we're going to your place," Gibbs said without turning around. "And you're cooking."

Grinning, Tony walked up close to Gibbs and peered over his shoulder. He was frying potatoes in butter. "I can live with that." The blue cheese and horseradish sauce was sitting on an element on low heat and the salad was on a counter, already drenched in dressing. "Steaks in the oven?"

In answer, Gibbs stood back from the stove a little, leaving Tony room to retrieve the broiler pan and its two steaks. Two plates were already laid out, so he transferred the steaks and set the broiler pan in the sink, cursing softly as his forearm brushed against the hot metal.

Gibbs shook discs of fried potato onto each plate while Tony ran cool water over the burnt patch of his arm. "How're you doing?" Gibbs asked eventually, moving the plates and the salad bowl to the kitchen table.

"I'm fine," Tony said, examining his arm. "I don't think it's even going to blister."

"Tony." Tony looked up to find Gibbs leaning against the kitchen counter, watching him seriously. "That's not what I meant. Today was your first day back in the field."

Tony rolled his eyes. "And all I did was pick up evidence and talk to a few people," he reminded Gibbs. "I've had more physically demanding days grocery shopping."

Gibbs snorted and pushed off the counter, heading back towards the table. "That mean you're not hungry?"

Quickly patting his arm dry, Tony crossed the room and slid into his place at the table. "I didn't say that." He started in on the steak intently. Gibbs was actually a pretty good cook, although he didn't have an extensive repertoire.

"We're going to have to interview Ms. Debowski's coworkers, too," Gibbs commented after they'd had a moment to quiet their stomachs.

Tony nodded, swallowing quickly. Homophobes weren't exclusive to the military, after all. It was entirely possible someone thought they were 'saving' Gena by taking her lover out of the equation. And then there was the old classic, jealousy. "I'm pretty sure Rosie's is a diner," he said aloud. "Probably the greasy spoon type, and if Gena works an eight hour shift and gets home at three, it's probably an all night place. I'll check it out in the morning."

"After we get the forensics back," Gibbs corrected.

Shrugging, Tony took another bite of steak before replying. "I can't imagine they'll help much. We didn't find much at the scene aside from the body and the bullet." He raised the hand holding his fork to stop Gibbs's comment. "I know, I know. It's the stuff we can't see that's most important."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Gibbs said mildly. A sudden glint came into his eyes. "To you, anyway."

Tony eyed him warily. "You wouldn't."

"You sure about that?"

"Gibbs, Abby would skin me alive if she knew I'd said something like that," Tony said plaintively. "Have mercy."

"Then you shouldn't have said it," Gibbs said, shaking his head slowly.

"Sure I can't persuade you to silence?" Tony leered at him.

Gibbs laughed. "Like I wouldn't be getting 'persuaded' anyway?"

"Well, yeah," Tony said easily, "but I could throw in a little something special."

"I've seen all your tricks, DiNozzo. You really think you can still surprise me?" Gibbs challenged.

Tony grinned, thinking of the last present he'd brought to bed with them. "I surprised you last time, didn't I?"

Gibbs's eyes went dark. "Maybe," he allowed. "But I surprised you right back."

Tony couldn't look away from Gibbs's gaze. A flicker of heat ignited low in his belly. "Does that mean you're going to throw me to the wolves?" he managed.

"I think Abby is more of a black widow than a wolf," Gibbs responded lightly, and the moment faded.

Tony quirked an eyebrow. "So I'm safe as long as I don't sleep with her?"

"You sleep with her and Abby isn't the one you'll have to worry about," Gibbs said dryly.

"There is something vaguely bizarre about the fact that I like it when you get all possessive," Tony commented, lips turning up at the corners. "I used to hate it when someone would get clingy after we'd gone to bed."

"You never used to plan on sticking around, either."

Tony snorted. "There's more to it than that." He dropped his eyes to the table. There was something about the fierceness with which Gibbs held onto him--both literally and metaphorically speaking--that let something inside of Tony relax. Gibbs had tapped into that, to a degree, even before they'd become lovers. No one else had even come close, and Tony had been looking.

"Tony," Gibbs said quietly. Tony looked up and found the centaur leaning forward over the table. "There's nothing wrong with enjoying being wanted. With enjoying being mine."

"I didn't say it was wrong. Just bizarre." Tony shrugged and pushed his food around his plate a little. "You don't think it's strange that a commitment-phobe like me would want to be owned?"

"No." Gibbs paused. "Tony, giving yourself up like you do for me isn't an easy thing for humans. Most aren't comfortable with it at all. Most of those who are don't let go as thoroughly as you have for me. So no, I don't find it the least bit strange that you would need to go through so many people before you found someone you could trust with that part of yourself."

Oh. "Put that way, it makes sense," Tony said sheepishly. He thought suddenly of his conversation with Kate. "At least, it does to me."

"Kate?"

Tony nodded. "I've been avoiding the dominance thing, but she's still having some issues."

"Why do I suspect that's an understatement?" Gibbs said dryly. "She decided whether or not I have a soul yet?"

"She's still working on it." Tony hesitated. "Gibbs, she asked me to ask you... I think it might help if she had a chance to have a really good look at you in centaur shape. The first time...well I don't really remember, but I'm betting there wasn't much time for her to even absorb what she saw."

Gibbs scowled. "I'm not interested in putting myself on display."

"Yeah, I know," Tony sighed. "To be honest, I'm not too hot on the idea myself. But if it'll help her deal, I think it's worth it."

Gibbs shot him a curious glance. "So what's your problem with showing me off?"

Tony blushed. Then he blushed harder at the knowledge that he was blushing. "It's not important." Gibbs just raised an eyebrow. Tony shrugged awkwardly. "I kind of like having that to myself."

Gibbs sat back in his chair, setting fork and knife down on his now-empty plate. "You get a lot more than that to yourself."

Tony set down his own utensils and scrubbed a hand through his hair before pushing back his chair and standing. "Yeah, I know," he said, gathering up the dishes from the table. It didn't mean he didn't want to hold every one of the bits of Gibbs that were his alone.

The dishes piled in the sink, Tony turned and found Gibbs standing behind him, watching silently. "C'mere," Gibbs said when he saw Tony was done for the moment, holding out one hand. Tony took his hand and let himself be drawn into a soft, slow kiss. A little too soft. Tony curled one hand around Gibbs's neck and deepened the kiss insistently. Gibbs didn't seem to mind, judging by the way he sucked heavily on Tony's tongue. Tony grinned--internally, given that his lips were otherwise occupied. Okay, Gibbs. I can take a hint.

Pulling back from the kiss, Tony took Gibbs by the hand and hauled him into the bedroom. "Something on your mind?" Gibbs asked, a laugh lurking in his voice as Tony intently unbuttoned his dress shirt.

Tony grinned and pushed the shirt off of Gibbs's shoulders. "Maybe," he said, tugging Gibbs's undershirt up. Gibbs raised his arms cooperatively and Tony pulled the shirt off over Gibbs's head and sighed happily at the skin his action bared. He spread his hands over Gibbs's chest, palming the firm muscles and rubbing his thumbs teasingly over Gibbs's nipples. Gibbs caught his breath in a thoroughly satisfying way at that caress. Tony grinned and met Gibbs's gaze before pushing him gently back towards the bed.

Gibbs yielded easily, backing up until his calves hit the bed and climbing up onto it when Tony kept advancing. Tony crawled up after him, kneeling astride Gibbs's legs, and went to work on his belt buckle. Stripping off Gibbs's pants and underwear in one go, Tony slid back off of the bed to toss them aside and dispose of Gibbs's socks.

Standing at the end of the bed, he paused a moment to drink in the sight of Gibbs sprawled naked on top of the comforter. The centaur was completely unselfconscious in a way that not even people who were honestly proud of their bodies could manage. Tony loved that Gibbs could just lie there and let Tony look at him and not squirm uncomfortably or pose prettily.

The smooth chest, the salt and pepper hair scattered around the rest of his body, the lean strength of arms and legs, the slight softness creeping into his belly, the nest of curls and the cock rising thickly from it... Tony's own dick hardened in response. God, but Gibbs was incredible.

"You're not going to get very far if you don't get naked yourself," Gibbs said dryly.

Tony flashed him a grin. "Depends on what I'm planning, doesn't it?" But he quickly discarded his clothes and joined Gibbs on the bed, settling down on top of him and claiming his mouth for another slow, heavy kiss.

Eyes closed, Tony lost himself in the warmth of skin pressed against him, in the slick movement of Gibbs's mouth against his. He undulated slightly, moving just enough to feel the slide of skin on skin.

After a moment warm, broad hands settled on Tony's back, slowly drifting down to stroke his ass, then sliding up to palm the muscles of his shoulderblades before repeating the motion. Tony hummed happily into their kiss and nibbled on Gibbs's lip for a moment before touching Gibbs's tongue with his own and drawing it back into his mouth. Gibbs lifted his head a little, pressing the kiss deeper. Tony cradled the back of Gibbs's head in his palm, taking some of the strain off his neck, and kissed back hard.

Gibbs moaned, pushing his hips up to rub his cock insistently into the crease between Tony's thigh and groin. Tony ignored the implied request, instead pulling back from Gibbs's mouth and tucking his face into the curve of Gibbs's neck, nibbling at his throat.

Gibbs's hands migrated up to Tony's shoulders, massaging them unconsciously as Tony slowly worked his way down Gibbs's throat to lick, slow and soft, at the line of his sternum. Tony rested his forehead against Gibbs's chest for a moment, enjoying the heaviness of Gibbs's touch. He had great hands.

"You keep doing what you're doing," Tony said, a little roughly, sliding down to sprawl between Gibbs's thighs, "and I'll keep doing what I'm doing." And then he bent and let the head of Gibbs's cock slide between his lips.

Gibbs groaned and his hands briefly tightened almost painfully on Tony's shoulders, but he didn't stop rubbing. Chuckling internally, Tony rubbed his tongue over the slick head of Gibbs's cock in reward. The somewhat bitter taste exploded across his tastebuds. Tony's mouth watered even as he slowly relaxed and took more of Gibbs's shaft into his mouth.

Swallowing convulsively, Tony drank in the sound of Gibbs's harsh pants and sucked a little harder, feeling his cheeks hollow out. The hot flesh of Gibbs's cock rested against his tongue, heavy and solid. Tony had to struggle not to grind against the sheets.

Gibbs's hands were drifting from his shoulders to stroke at the base of Tony's neck, ruffling the short hairs there. Tony let out a muffled moan and shivered. Apparently taking this as encouragement, Gibbs slid his hands into Tony's hair, fingers playing over his scalp.

Tony's cock throbbed heavily where it lay trapped between his belly and the bed. His jaw was starting to ache and his lips were stretched tight, but Tony moaned eagerly. More. He sucked a breath in through his nose and relaxed, taking Gibbs in deep, burying his nose in the coarse curls at the base of Gibbs's cock. The scent of musk overwhelmed Tony. He whimpered helplessly and swallowed hard.

Gibbs gasped, his hips jerking as he struggled not to move, and moaned long and low as he came, spilling his seed down Tony's throat.

It was all Tony could do not to come himself with Gibbs's hands hard on his head and the taste of Gibbs in his mouth and the scent of him, thick and rich, in his nose. But he clung to control until he could crawl back up Gibbs's body and kiss him again, hard and almost desperate with hunger.

Gibbs kissed back just as aggressively, his hands cupping Tony's head and holding their mouths together as they all but devoured each other. Moaning into the kiss, Tony rubbed his aching cock against Gibbs's belly. Even with the slickness of pre-come, the friction of flesh against flesh only added to the hot, tight knot of need that made Tony pant and gasp into Gibbs's mouth. Shuddering, Tony ground hard against Gibbs and strained towards completion.

One of Gibbs's hands left Tony's head, though he didn't let up on the kiss at all. For a moment Tony thought he would worm that hand in between them and grip Tony's cock. But instead Gibbs palmed the curve of Tony's ass and pulled his hips even harder against his belly.

His lips slipping from Gibbs's, Tony pressed their cheeks together and thrust roughly against Gibbs. He sobbed as he came. Come slicked both of their bellies and waves of heat and release and lassitude washed through Tony. He gave into it, sprawled bonelessly over Gibbs.

Eventually Tony pulled himself together a little more, though he still wasn't in any mood to move. Gibbs's fingers slid through his hair again. "You don't have to share anything if you don't want to," he said softly.

"Doesn't seem fair to Kate," Tony muttered, curling himself a little closer about Gibbs.

"She'll figure it out. If it takes her a little longer than it might otherwise, then it takes a little longer."

"I'm not sure we can afford the time," Tony said reluctantly. "We're pushing it already, Gibbs. We're gonna need her to help cover for us soon."

Gibbs's touch was calming. "Soon. Not right this moment."

Tony sighed. "I know you're fine with letting them work through this on their own," he said, focusing his gaze on his hand where it lay on Gibbs's chest, "but I want to squeeze as much out of the time we've got as I can. Kate and McGee can help with that, but only if they're on board with us."

"Hey." Gibbs covered Tony's hand with his own and gave it a slight squeeze. "This doesn't mean any less to me than it does to you. But we've got a little time, and I know you've got them taken care of."

Tony wished he felt as confident as Gibbs sounded.

***

Tony was the last one into the office the next morning, thanks to the necessity of going home to change and grab his car. He had a few things at Gibbs's place, scattered throughout the drawers of Gibbs's own clothing, but there was no point in using them when he had to go home for his car anyway.

The boxes clustered around Kate's desk revealed that Fitzpatrick's files had finally been cleared and had arrived from JAG. McGee seemed to be helping her with them; he had a similar box open in front of him.

Tony put his things away and moved around to perch on the outside edge of his desk. "Heard from Abby?" he asked, watching Kate retrieve a thick file from one of the boxes.

"No." Kate said. She glared at him briefly and thrust the file in his direction. "You could--"

The phone on Gibbs's desk rang. Tony, Kate, and McGee all automatically turned towards him, pausing in what they'd they been doing. "Gibbs," he barked. A moment passed. "Be right there, Abs."

Tony grinned. Saved by forensics results. He waited until Gibbs had passed between them, but he couldn't resist sticking his tongue out at Kate. Just for a moment. He had just enough time to register her eye roll before the head smack landed. "Hey!" Tony rubbed his head and threw a token scowl at Gibbs.

"Concentrate, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, not even looking back on his way to the elevator.

Making a face at Kate's smirk, Tony followed after Gibbs. The four of them crowded into the elevator and rode down to Abby's lab. She was already wincing when they got there. Not a good sign, Tony thought, sighing internally.

"What've you got, Abs?" Gibbs asked briskly.

"Not a whole lot," she confessed apologetically. "This was a really generic murder. I can tell you that, based on my reconstruction with a consult from Ducky, she was headed towards the cars when she was shot."

"The license plate of the blue Volkswagen came back in Fitzpatrick's name," McGee interjected.

"And whoever killed her was definitely between her and the row of cars," Abby went on. She hit a key on her computer and a reconstruction came up on the plasma, illustrating her words. "Standing, not in one of the cars, according to the bullet trajectory. Besides, all those swabs you took came up negative for GSR."

Tony caught McGee's eye and shrugged. It hadn't been such a bad theory. Worth checking, anyway.

"Anything on the bullet?" Gibbs asked, frowning at Abby's reconstruction.

"Traces of blood, grass, and dirt." She shrugged. "Just what you'd expect."

Gibbs grunted, still studying the reconstruction. "Which one of these was Fitzpatrick's car?" he asked after a moment.

"Second from the right, Boss," McGee said quickly.

A clatter of keys and the outline was highlighted. "The shell casings aren't between Fitzpatrick and her car," Gibbs observed.

Abby glanced at the plasma. "Nope," she said cheerfully. "That mean something?"

"Maybe," Gibbs said. "Kate, McGee, head back up to those files. They're our best bet for the moment." He turned, strode over to the elevator, and hit the down button.

In the absence of any other directions Tony shrugged and followed Gibbs down to autopsy. Ducky was studying a set of X-rays. He looked up as the doors slid closed behind Tony, his face lightening. "Ah, Jethro, Tony, I was just about to call you."

"Tell me you've got something, Duck," Gibbs said, coming to a stop next to Pamela Fitzpatrick's body. Face up, she wasn't bad looking, although her features were a little sharper than Tony preferred in a woman.

"Just a confirmation of the cause of death and some evidence of a surgical procedure that most likely is unrelated to your investigation," Ducky said regretfully. "I imagine Abby has already told you about the bullet. All I can add on that front is that it glanced off a rib and passed through the heart before exiting just to the side of her shoulder blade."

"And this surgical procedure you mentioned?" Gibbs prompted.

"Ah, yes," Ducky said. "This young woman has had a total hysterectomy and a bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy." Catching sight of Tony's blank look--Gibbs was just waiting--Ducky clarified, "Removal of both ovaries and both fallopian tubes."

"That unusual in a woman her age?" Gibbs asked. Fitzpatrick was 38.

"Hysterectomies are the second most common major surgery performed on women," Ducky said. "So not particularly. A bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy is somewhat more unusual. Given the severity of the procedure and the side-effects, however, her condition must have been serious for her to resort to the surgical solution."

Tony frowned. There hadn't been anything like that in her medical records as far as he could remember. "What kind of condition?"

"Hmmm. There are a number that might be responsible, but cancer and endometriosis are the most likely culprits for removal of ovaries, fallopian tubes, and the entire uterus." Ducky waved a hand. "Her medical records will tell us for sure."

Gibbs cast Tony a frown. "You didn't think that might be pertinent background information?"

"Hey, I checked her medical records," Tony said defensively. "There was nothing in there about cancer or endomit-meet-- Whatever."

Ducky frowned. "This is a rather involved procedure involving six to eight weeks recovery time. I can't imagine she had the operation and came through it safely anywhere other than a hospital, which means that there ought to be records."

Tony spread his hands. "I'll look again, but I'm telling you, I didn't find any sign of it."

"Why on Earth would someone want to conceal such a procedure?" Ducky asked, puzzled. "There's no stigma attached."

"I think we'd better figure that out," Gibbs said, but he looked almost distracted. Like he was thinking about something else. Tony narrowed his eyes but waited until they'd bid Ducky goodbye and left autopsy before calling Gibbs on it.

"You've got an idea about this hysterectomy thing," he said after the elevator doors closed behind them.

Gibbs shot him a brief glance. "I do," he allowed. "But I'm hoping I'm wrong."

Tony sighed. "You failed sharing in kindergarten, didn't you?"

"I didn't go to kindergarten," Gibbs said blandly. "Or public grade school."

Which made sense, although Tony had never thought of it before. Centaurs generally didn't mix with most of the human population until they were fostered out, if they were stallions. He wondered for the first time what happened to the women. Gibbs had never mentioned fostering female centaurs, but Tony couldn't imagine they were any less protected. "This explains so much," was all he said aloud.

The head smack was just a formality, it was so light.

Back in the squad room Tony pulled up the background he'd put together and double checked it, but, as he'd thought, there was nothing in it about either medical procedure Ducky had mentioned. Tony started digging deeper, looking for any hint of when Fitzpatrick might have had the operation, but couldn't find so much as a two week leave either from JAG or from the schooling she'd done beforehand. When Tony looked up to inform Gibbs, he found his boss staring at his computer screen with a stony expression.

Must have been right about whatever it was he didn't want to be right about. "Boss?" Tony called across the aisle. "You find something?"

"Aren't you supposed to be interviewing Gena Debowski's coworkers?" Gibbs shot back, not even looking away from his computer screen.

Tony blinked. "Yeah, but--"

"Then why are you still here?" Gibbs snapped.

"I'm going, I'm going," Tony said, standing and donning jacket and holster. He just barely managed to bite back the phrase 'hold your horses.' Now, he suspected, was definitely not the time.

***

Sure enough, Rosie's was a greasy spoon, but it was a more or less clean one. Tony showed his badge to the woman behind the counter. "Gena working today?"

The woman shook her head. "Took personal leave. Said her roommate had died suddenly. You here about that?"

"Yeah," Tony said, tucking his badge away. "You her supervisor?"

The woman nodded. "Can't tell you much about her, though. She's in on time every night and out as soon as her shift's over. Never volunteers to pick up overtime first, though she'll take it if we need her. The regulars like her. They leave her bigger tips than the rest of the servers, but we pool them, so it works out." Gena's supervisor shrugged. "She kept her private life private, you know?"

"She had good reason to," said a voice from behind Tony. He turned to find a woman in a Rosie's uniform standing behind him with a coffee pot in one hand. Her mouth had a sour tilt to it. "Can't imagine she'd be proud of what she was doing with that 'roommate' of hers." Tony could actually hear the quotes.

"That's loose talk and you know it, Susan," the supervisor said sharply.

Susan rolled her eyes. "You've seen them here sometimes. If you think they're just roommates, you're blind." She turned more completely to Tony and leaned forward confidentially, propping the hand that wasn't holding the coffee pot up on her hip. "They met here, you know."

"Really?" Tony said, hoping he sounded inviting.

"Really. The roommate came in for coffee one night around two a.m., back when Gena worked the overnight shift." Susan sniffed. "I don't know who those two think they're fooling with the way they touch each other. Anyone could tell there's something wrong with them."

Tony clenched his jaw until it ached and forced himself to keep listening as Susan poured out a flood of vitriol laced gossip. By the time she was done he was so furious his stomach was roiling. He exited the diner with relief and sat for a moment in his car, trying to calm down.

If Gibbs sent me out here for no good reason, Tony thought, turning the key in the ignition, he owes me one. Hell, he owes me several.

Susan had such a complete and utter lack of regard for Lieutenant Fitzpatrick that Tony could easily imagine her blowing the lawyer away, but he couldn't think of any reason why she'd bother. Certainly not to 'protect' Gena. Plus, from what he'd seen, Susan might be mean spirited, but she was also lazy. Besides which, she got far too much satisfaction out of raising herself up by putting Gena down to want to do away with that twisted ego boost.

The rest of the staff, from the short order cook to the bus boy, had echoed their supervisor's words. They knew Fitzpatrick only as Gena's roommate who sometimes came in for a coffee or to pick Gena up.

Back at NCIS, Tony found Kate and McGee missing, presumably interviewing Fitzpatrick's coworkers about some of the cases she'd been working. Gibbs was nowhere to be found, not in the squad room or Abby's lab or down in Autopsy or in MTAC. He could be in the Director's office, but Tony didn't think so. This wasn't a high profile case.

He was working his way back through Fitzpatrick's background again--something about her social security number was bothering him--when a barked, "DiNozzo!" brought his head up and he found Gibbs standing impatiently next to the elevators. Grabbing his jacket, just in case, Tony scooted obediently into the elevator with Gibbs. He was less than surprised when Gibbs stopped it.

"I take it you were right about whatever it was you didn't want to be right about," Tony said.

"Yeah." Gibbs scowled for a moment. "Pamela Fitzpatrick was a centaur."

Tony blinked, stunned. A centaur? "I thought you could just...tell about that."

"When they're alive, DiNozzo," Gibbs said dryly. "A dead centaur doesn't produce recognizable pheromones. Given the removal of her ovaries, I might not have been able to tell even before she died."

"Wait a second," Tony said, remembering what had started Gibbs in this direction. "Why would a female centaur have all her parts taken out? I mean, you did say that you had an idea about that."

Gibbs sighed. "A mare almost has to have all her 'parts taken out' if she wants to leave the herd," he explained. "It helps them control the obedience instinct and it stops them from going into season every year. There are a handful who've managed without the operation, but most mares need that extra edge of control. On top of that, when they come into season...," Gibbs pursed his lips. "If a mare comes into season and there isn't a stallion around to take of her, she could get extremely sick. Sick enough to be at risk of dying. If a mare insists on leaving, it's safer for her to have the operation. Virtually all of them choose to err on the side of caution."

"Does that happen often?" Tony asked, fascinated. He supposed it ought to have been obvious that a herd stallion would have...well, a whole herd to rule over. But somehow it hadn't occurred to Tony what that meant for the herd. He'd been concentrating on figuring out what it meant to the stallion.

"Not often, no. A stallion knows his whole life that he's going to have to leave the herd he was born into, but the mares take the opposite for granted. The herd is everything to them. They aren't even in the system--no birth certificates or social security numbers or anything like that. Everything that has to be official goes through the herd stallion." Gibbs shook his head, though Tony wasn't sure if it was in disbelief or disapproval or something else. "Leaving the herd would have been a serious effort of will and determination for Pamela."

Tony hesitated. The situation Gibbs described had some disturbing parallels in human culture. "If the herd stallion wasn't too happy with her leaving," he said carefully, "could that be why--"

"No!" Gibbs glared at Tony. "If Brian didn't want Pamela to leave the herd, she wouldn't have been able to leave. He'd have had to use his resources to give her a history, an identity, money to get her started. Not to mention the operation."

"Hey, don't bite my head off, Boss," Tony said. "I had to ask. You know I had to ask."

"I know," Gibbs said, but he didn't sound like he cared.

If he jumped down my throat over that, he's just going to love this, Tony thought, steeling himself. "You also have to know that the situation you're describing sounds an awful lot like abuse. The inability to leave, the control..."

"I treat you the same way a herd stallion treats his herd," Gibbs said coldly. "Do you feel abused?"

Tony set his jaw. "You know I don't. But you don't control every part of my life, either." Gibbs raised an eyebrow and Tony flushed. "I still get a choice," he argued. "I still make independent decisions."

"And so do the mares in a centaur herd," Gibbs returned. "There isn't some neat human equivalent you can use to sort this out, Tony. We can pass, but when you get right down to it centaurs think differently."

"And what happens if we find out that the reason Pamela Fitzpatrick was killed had something to do with what she was?" Tony asked, raising his eyebrows. "Just bury it? If we even can bury it; that hysterectomy is in Ducky's report and I can't exactly fabricate medical records for Fitzpatrick even if I was convinced I should."

"We don't know that's why she was killed."

"So what, we're just going to assume that the fact that she wasn't human had nothing to do with her murder?" Tony asked incredulously.

"Of course not," Gibbs snarled. "I just spent the last hour and a half on a payphone arguing for permission to visit the herd. I'll question them and we'll hope that Fitzpatrick's nature was one hell of a coincidence, because if it wasn't I don't know how the fuck I'm going to cover this up."

Tony raised his hands. "Hold up a second. Did you say permission? Since when do we ask permission to question someone?"

"Since that someone is the local herd stallion," Gibbs said tightly. "If I went out there unannounced, Brian would assume I wanted control of the herd. I doubt I'd have time to convince him otherwise before he challenged me."

Tony blanched. "Right. Okay. But there's no way you're going out there without me."

"I'm not taking you with me," Gibbs said flatly.

"Why the hell not?" Tony demanded.

"I'm not taking you into another stallion's territory."

Realization dawned, but Tony didn't let it show in his face, lest Gibbs think it was some sort of concession. Instead he met the unyielding blue gaze and summoned up all the stubbornness at his disposal. "And I'm not letting you go into another stallion's territory without someone to remind you why you're there and what you have to come back to."

Gibbs's expression eased a fraction. "I'm not going to abandon you for the herd, Tony. I made my decision."

Maybe. But you've never been faced with what you lost, either. "I'm going with you or neither of us are going at all," Tony insisted. "If I have to follow you, I will." For a long moment they just glared at each other. "Would you let me go into a dangerous situation alone?" Tony finally asked quietly.

Gibbs let out a harsh breath. "Not knowingly."

"Then don't ask me to do it."

"Brian is expecting me," Gibbs said, reaching out and flicking the stop switch. The elevator slid back into motion. "We'd better get going."

***

The 'local' herd, the herd that Gibbs had been born into and subsequently been forced to leave, was in West Virginia. The drive there was tense and quiet. Gibbs wasn't the least bit inclined toward conversation and Tony was pretty sure he'd used up every ounce of good will he'd accumulated just convincing Gibbs to bring him along. The moment when he could push was long past.

There was no boundary marker to warn Tony that their long drive was coming to an end, that they'd come to the herd's land. One moment the government sedan was rattling painfully down a dirt road for which it had definitely not been designed, accompanied only by a cloud of dust, and the next Tony glanced out the window and found a young boy with red hair and freckles and the gangly legs of a colt running alongside, his tail streaming out behind him.

Tony blinked, turning and looking as the car left the boy behind rather more slowly than he would have expected. He could just make out another centaur galloping up to the youngster in their wake. Settling back into his seat, Tony took a quick look at Gibbs and found his gaze fixed firmly ahead of them. Tony wished he dared reach out, remind Gibbs of what he had, but who knew how the centaur would react to a gesture like that right now?

Eventually a sprawling ranch house resolved itself in the distance. Gibbs slowed, letting the dust cloud settle, and stopped the car a good distance away from the house. They sat in the car for a long moment, looking through the windshield at the figure standing just in front of the steps that led up to a porch that wrapped around the house.

Tony waited until Gibbs had opened his door and stepped out of the car before he followed suit, quickly walking around the back of the vehicle to stand behind Gibbs's shoulder.

"You stay behind me," Gibbs said quietly. His voice was as hard as steel, leaving no room for argument.

"Yes, Boss," Tony murmured, eyes fixed on the centaur that stood waiting for them.

Gibbs took a couple of steps forward, but froze into stillness at the sudden sound of pounding hooves. Tony glanced to the side just in time to see a mare go flying past them, the red-haired boy caught up in her arms. She circled around the back of the ranch house without even glancing over her shoulder.

When the dust had settled, Gibbs finished his approach, though he stopped a good six feet away from the stallion that waited for them. "Brian," Gibbs greeted him.

"Gibbs," the other centaur responded. He had to look down a little at them from his current shape, but he didn't seem inclined to change. Maybe he was making a point--this was the herd's territory. His territory. Or maybe he was ready for a challenge. "I told you you could come. I didn't say anything about a human."

"Tony is mine," Gibbs said coolly.

"You're pushing your limits already, Gibbs. Push me too hard and you'll regret it." The statement should have come across arrogant and threatening. There was certainly a threat inherent in it. But Tony could hear an edge of warning, too. Brian didn't want to make an issue of this.

But he will if he feels he has to, Tony knew. He hadn't thought it was possible for anyone to come across as intense, as powerful as Gibbs in centaur form, but Brian was every bit Gibbs's equal, from the gray-threaded brown hair on his head to the tip of his matching tail. Studying him closer, Tony saw something that made his stomach go cold. Crescent shaped scars, marked by white hairs rather than brown or gray, showed on Brian's coat in several places. Stallions fight to the death for control of the herd. This centaur had held onto his herd for thirty years.

"Would you rather I backed off and let some other team come out here and question you?" Gibbs asked. "All of you."

Tony concealed a wince and wished that Gibbs could back down. Just a little. But he wouldn't. He couldn't. Not this time. Not while he literally stood between Brian and Tony. Now you think of that, Tony berated himself. Just a fucking liability.

Brian's jaw hardened and his tail twitched, his eyes raking over Gibbs assessingly. But in that look his gaze caught on Tony, hovering behind Gibbs's shoulder. Tony froze and forced himself not to drop his eyes, not for someone other than Gibbs, but under the weight of Brian's regard he couldn't help shuffling forward a quarter step to press physically against Gibbs.

Gibbs didn't so much as tilt his head, but he reached back and wrapped his hand around Tony's wrist and squeezed a little. Brian's gaze flickered downward, taking in the small movement. Tony let out a silent breath as the focus of the centaur's attention shifted.

When he looked up, Brian was visibly calmer. He even relaxed enough to shift his weight and cock one leg like a human forced to stand too long might do. "Ask your questions," he said, "but only of me."

Standing as close as he was, Tony could feel a thread of tension ease in Gibbs. "At least fifteen years ago, a mare left your herd."

Brian nodded. "Eighteen years, actually. Pamela. She was one of the last of Murphy's foals."

Murphy's foals? Tony dug through his memory. Hadn't the centaur who'd visited Gibbs when he and Tony first got together mentioned a Murphy? She did. He was the herd stallion before this guy. For the first time it occurred to Tony to wonder if Murphy had been Gibbs's father... which would make Fitzpatrick his half sister. The possibility made Tony's head spin.

"What happened?" Gibbs asked.

"Why do you care?"

Tony heard Gibbs make a tiny, impatient noise, but he suspected Brian missed it. "I told you I had to come out here to question you in connection with a criminal investigation," he said calmly, not a hint of his impatience showing in his tone. "She's involved."

Brian's eyes flashed. "If she's in trouble, it's my responsibility to sort it out."

"She left," Gibbs bit out. "Declared she wasn't yours anymore. And then she joined the Navy. That makes her my responsibility."

Both centaurs were silent for a long, tense moment, just staring at each other. Brian kicked shallowly at the ground. "Shortly after she came of age, she realized that she preferred a woman's touch to mine," Brian said finally. "She thought she could handle it. She came into season twice and got through it twice before she decided she'd rather leave the herd than be subject to me."

Tony fought down a frown. There were nuances he was missing here. He added half a dozen more questions to the list he had for Gibbs.

"Have you had any contact with her since then?" Gibbs asked.

Brian shook his head. "The deal was, I'd give her everything she needed to get on her feet in the human world, but she wasn't ever to have contact with the herd again. Not a phone call or a letter."

"Can you think of a reason someone might want to kill her?" Gibbs asked blandly.

"Is she dead?" Brian asked, expressing nothing more than mild curiosity.

"Shot outside her apartment building," Gibbs confirmed. "It's her death we're investigating."

"Can't help you there," Brian said, shrugging. "I imagine she became a very different person after she left the herd." He paused, and now he looked troubled. "Unless..."

"Unless?" Gibbs's voice took on a slightly sharper edge.

Brian frowned irritably. "I'm getting old, Gibbs. I know there are a couple of young stallions keeping an eye on me; the sentries have run into them once or twice, but they never hung around long enough for me to get out to confront them myself."

Old? Tony was certain Brian was younger than Gibbs. Maybe not by much, but-- But centaurs don't live as long as humans do, Tony remembered, his heart plummeting into his stomach. A centaur in his late forties might still be strong, but he was definitely past his prime. Put him up against a young, aggressive centaur with nothing to lose and everything to gain... Tony couldn't help but remember Gibbs's brief battle with Don, and that hadn't even been in earnest. Put a herd in the balance and shave ten years off Don's age...

"You think they'd kill Pamela?" Gibbs asked. "Doesn't seem to make sense. She had no connection to you. D.C. is hours away."

"A young stallion with an ache for a herd would easily take offence to a mare living on her own," Brian pointed out. "Besides which, young stallions frequently don't make sense."

Gibbs nodded. "Names?"

But Brian shook his head. "I can't have their identities cropping up in anything official, especially not anything official which is both criminal and connected to other centaurs. If one or both of them ends up dead it can't come back on me, and if I end up dead the herd won't do well with a stallion who's drawn that kind of attention."

"Would it help if I promise to keep everything off the record if something concrete develops?"

Tony bit his lip but kept quiet. This was Gibbs's area and they'd be covering up a hell of a lot more than a couple of names if it turned out the murder had had anything to do with centaurs--including Fitzpatrick.

Brian considered for a long moment. "If one of them is involved, you tell me," he said at last, "and I'll take care of it. Your suspect turns up dead, you close your case, and the herd stays out of it."

"The two stallions aren't from this herd?" Gibbs sounded like he was just confirming. He can't seriously be thinking of taking this deal, Tony thought.

"No," Brian stated. "They're not mine."

Gibbs nodded sharply. "Agreed."

Tony jerked in surprise. "Boss--!"

"Quiet," Gibbs hissed, turning his head just a fraction.

Tony subsided, mind roiling. Gibbs had a sense of justice like no one else Tony had ever known, including all his compatriots from three police departments and every agent in NCIS. He couldn't be willing to hand his suspect over to vigilante justice.

Not unless the alternative is them escaping justice altogether, Tony admitted to himself, reluctantly. Gibbs was never obvious about it, but Tony had worked with him too long not to understand that the convenient deaths of a couple of scumbags had been a little too convenient. Tony was certain that it had never been Gibbs's finger on the trigger, but he was just as certain that the centaur's influence had been little more than a step removed from the action.

That didn't mean he had to like it.

"Elliot Parker and James Stephenson," Brian supplied after a moment. "Take care of your people, Gibbs."

Gibbs's spine stiffened at the obvious dismissal, but all he said was, "I'll be back if I have more questions."

Brian lifted his chin. "Don't come unannounced."

Gibbs half turned and opened the driver's side door, nudging Tony. Tony blinked, slid into the car, and paused only a moment behind the wheel before climbing awkwardly over the gearshift and into the passenger seat. Gibbs slid smoothly into the driver's seat and shut the door, eyes still fixed on Brian. He didn't look away until the engine was started and the car was turning in a tight arc.

Tony waited until they were well away from the house before speaking. He wished he could know when they were off Brian's territory, but he hadn't seen any sign of where it started on the way in and he didn't imagine he'd see one on the way out. "You're not seriously going to stick to that deal, are you?"

"One or both of those young stallions is going to turn up dead anyway," Gibbs said bluntly, not even glancing at Tony. "Maybe Brian, too. We can't change that."

Swallowing heavily, Tony took a moment to wrap his mind around that. Knowing how stallions decided control of the herd and knowing it were two different things. He felt like he was racing through that hotel looking for Gibbs and Don all over again, heart in his mouth, trying not to think of all the ways everything could go to hell. "The killer wouldn't be dead if he were in prison."

Gibbs shot him a look. "He's the one you want to protect?"

Tony grimaced. "I don't want to plan on anyone turning up dead, Boss."

"This is the way it works for centaurs, Tony. Parker and Stephenson understand the risk they'll be taking if they challenge Brian, just like Brian understood when he challenged Murphy." Gibbs paused for a moment. "The herd needs a leader willing to take that risk and to accept the responsibility he inherits if he wins. They're all obedient to the herd stallion; they need a stallion who's earned that obedience."

"But you wouldn't--" Tony cut himself off. What had that female centaur--mare, he guessed--said a year ago? We always thought you'd eventually challenge Brian, regardless of how strong either of you were. The herd has been expecting for years now to lose you both, you know.

"I had every intention of coming back and killing Murphy," Gibbs said harshly, underlining the memory. "I joined the Marines specifically to learn how to lead, how to fight, and how to kill. I intended to take that herd for my own."

"But you didn't," Tony said quietly, studying Gibbs.

The muscles in Gibbs's jaw twitched and the skin around his eyes tightened. "By the time I came back to make my challenge, Brian had already taken over from Murphy."

"So why didn't you challenge Brian?"

"I thought about it." Gibbs was driving with fierce concentration, but Tony didn't think he was actually paying much attention to the road. Fortunately, they were still out in the middle of nowhere. "I wanted to."

"But you didn't," Tony pushed.

Gibbs shot him an irritated glance. "No. I didn't. Brian was young and strong. He'd been leading the herd for a year. They were...settled. Taking out Murphy would have been in the natural order of things. Taking out Brian would only have been selfish."

"From the scars Brian is carrying around," Tony said, "I'm guessing not all stallions are quite so rigorous about 'the natural order of things.'"

Gibbs snorted. "There are good and bad centaurs just like there are good and bad humans."

"The idea of leaving this up to vigilante justice doesn't sit well with me, Gibbs." Tony let out a slow breath and shook his head. "This isn't even some dedicated scumbag too well protected to go to trial. The killer shouldn't automatically earn a death sentence."

"It wouldn't be automatic," Gibbs denied. "He'd have his chance."

What chance? If Brian was going to... Oh. Shit. "And what if he wins the challenge?" Tony asked. "Then there's a murderer leading the herd."

"There'd be a murderer leading the herd regardless," Gibbs said dryly.

"Not what I meant," Tony snapped.

"Do you think I'm happy about this?" Gibbs shot back impatiently. "No matter how it goes down I'm going to be swearing to bald-faced lies in official reports. But I won't put every centaur in the whole damned world in danger of exposure for the sake of my career. Not even for my life, Tony."

Tony swallowed and looked away for a moment. Was he going to be on the brink of losing Gibbs every time they ran into another centaur? He knew what it would mean if they were exposed, but Goddamnit, the secrecy complicated things all to hell. And here he'd thought it would get easier now that the team was in on it. "So what do we do if Fitzpatrick's killer does end up in charge of the herd?"

This time Gibbs did sigh. "I don't know, Tony. We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it."

And in the meantime they'd both be hoping someone other than Elliot Parker and James Stephenson had killed Pamela Fitzpatrick. Tony had never wanted to clear a suspect so badly in his life. So much for impartiality. Maybe Kate and McGee would have something from Fitzpatrick's case files when they got back.

Which reminded Tony... "What do we tell Kate and McGee?"

"Nothing."

So not surprised, Tony thought wryly. Gibbs would want to protect his people from a shit storm like this could turn out to be. "They can't back us up if they don't know," Tony pointed out anyway.

"They also don't have to lie if they don't know."

"We can count on them, Boss," Tony insisted quietly. "We might need to."

Gibbs was silent. "I'm not so sure of Kate," he said at last, reluctantly. "She's already got problems with me; I don't want her opinion on 'vigilante justice' to tip the balance. And McGee is still inexperienced, even if he isn't a probie anymore. He's got his whole career ahead of him."

"He's also got the right to make his own choices."

Gibbs shot Tony a wry look, reminding him that, as far as Gibbs was concerned, he had every right to make a decision concerning McGee's well being. He was a member of Gibbs's 'herd', after all. "Which we'd be making for him, if we told him."

"You know what he'd say," Tony shot back.

"I'm not bringing either of them into this," Gibbs said flatly. "It has to be my risk--"

"And mine," Tony interjected.

"And yours," Gibbs went on as if he'd never been interrupted, "but it doesn't have to be theirs. It won't be."

The finality in Gibbs's voice made it clear that any further argument would be an exercise in frustration. Tony subsided into his seat and tried not to pout. Given how little impact all his arguing had had, he wondered just how much of this conversation had been Gibbs humoring him. Hey, a year ago he wouldn't even have humored you, he told himself sourly.

They left the back roads and merged onto the highway in silence. Tony's mood lifted a little as the car picked up speed, their progress taking on the edges of Gibbs's usual style again. "You mind if I ask a question?" he asked eventually.

"You didn't seem to have a problem a little while ago," Gibbs said dryly.

Tony hunched down in his seat a little, vaguely embarrassed.

"So ask," Gibbs said, marginally softer.

"Brian said Pamela was one of Murphy's foals. So..." Tony trailed off, not sure how to phrase this, but Gibbs didn't seem willing to fill in the rest of the question. "Did you know her?"

"Pamela Fitzpatrick was 38," Gibbs said. "She was born two years after I left the herd."

"But Murphy was your herd stallion when you were there," Tony said.

Tony swore Gibbs was suppressing a smile now. "Yes."

"So was he...were you..." Tony grimaced and just forced it out: "Was Fitzpatrick your sister?"

"Took you long enough to spit it out," Gibbs said, smiling a little. "Yes. She was. Most likely my half sister, actually. The chances that we had the same mother are relatively small."

Tony blinked. "You don't know for sure?"

"Why would I? Like I said, she was born after I left the herd." Gibbs's tone was casual, as if they weren't speaking of anything of consequence.

"But, wouldn't your mother have told you?"

Gibbs shot him a frown. "I didn't have any contact with the herd after I left, Tony. You know that."

"Yeah, I know," Tony said. "But...I mean, I haven't exactly got a warm and fuzzy relationship with my parents, but they'd have told me if I had a brother or a sister or if someone in the family died. Important shit like that."

"I didn't leave on particularly good terms," Gibbs said. "Actually, I told Murphy to enjoy the time he had left, because when he next saw me we'd be 'talking' about the herd." He was quiet for a long moment. "They probably would have kept in touch if not for that."

"Regrets?" Tony asked quietly. Gibbs hadn't known they'd never be his again. He'd meant to come back for them.

"Everyone's got regrets," Gibbs said after a moment. "That doesn't mean I'm not happy with what I've got."

But if you could trade, would you? Tony didn't ask the question aloud. He wasn't sure he'd like the answer.

***

When they got back to NCIS Kate and McGee were at their desks, intent on their computer screens.

"Anything in the case files?" Gibbs asked briskly, heading for his desk and sliding smoothly into place. Tony settled into his own chair and woke his computer up. The windows he'd had open while working on Pamela Fitzpatrick's background were still open. He closed them, not bothering to save his notes.

"We've got a possibility," Kate reported.

Tony's head came up attentively. As she scooped up a file and walked over to Gibbs's desk it was all Tony could do to bite back the questions: Who? How strong a possibility? Why? They have an alibi? Gibbs would ask soon enough.

Gibbs waved his hand eloquently.

"Jason Tangiers," Kate said. "Petty Officer. He was accused of and arrested for rape and seems to have a history of battery, though none of that ever made it into an official statement. Not a high profile case, but he's violent and Fitzpatrick's coworkers said he threatened her repeatedly."

"Location?" Gibbs prompted.

"Right here in D.C.," Kate said with satisfaction. "Missed shipping out while he was being held. His case came up for trial a week ago and he got off on a technicality." She pulled a sheet out of the file folder and held it out to Gibbs. "His address is there."

Gibbs didn't take the paper, just nodded at Kate and McGee. "You two run with it. DiNozzo and I are chasing another lead."

"Fitzpatrick say something to her family?" Kate asked curiously.

"Nope." Gibbs was cool. Casual. "She hasn't been in touch with them since she left home, but they say there were a couple of guys poking around, asking about her."

"Names?" McGee asked, hands hovering above his keyboard.

"DiNozzo's got it covered," Gibbs said. "Go with Kate. Interview Tangiers."

"Got it, Boss," McGee said agreeably, but he shot Tony a curious look as he passed his desk.

Tony just shrugged. It wasn't like Gibbs hadn't deliberately mixed up their assignments before. When the case wasn't too hot he was inclined to force his people to build experience in the areas where they were the weakest.

Elliot Parker and James Stephenson were in the system, but only just. They had driver's licenses, social security numbers, and high school diplomas--though Tony noted that both of them were home schooled until grade 7. But neither of them had attended college or ever held a job. So what do they live off of? Tony asked himself. The foster parents? That doesn't seem to wash. Have to ask Gibbs. Later.

Parker was originally from Wyoming and Stephenson from Georgia, which made sense given that Brian had said they weren't his. Not his sons and not from his herd. Tony couldn't help but be relieved by that--this case was getting complicated enough without bringing more inconvenient familial relationships into it.

Inconvenient familial relationships...shit. Tony quickly pulled Fitzpatrick's file back up and scanned through it. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found the line he was looking for. Murphy Gibbs wasn't listed as her father. Apparently when she'd cut all ties, she'd cut them as thoroughly as possible. Fortunately for one Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Tony went back to Parker and Stephenson's profiles. Both of them were a ways from home, though Parker was certainly the furthest. Just wandering, Tony wondered, or were they looking for something specific? Like a herd with an aging stallion. Gibbs had never mentioned it, but there couldn't be that many centaur herds wandering around. Maybe Brian was the only herd stallion old enough to make a good target.

Of course, if that's true, it doesn't make a very strong case for them as suspects. Tony thought. If they'd go to the trouble of travelling hundreds of miles to find an older stallion, it seems unlikely that they'd kill an independent mare just to show their colors. Tony tried not to feel too encouraged by that.

Parker and Stephenson were staying in two difference cities, both about midway between D.C. and the herd's spread in West Virginia. Tony guessed it wasn't smart to set up home base too close to the stallion you were interested in taking out. Whatever their motives, they were far enough out of the way that Tony doubted he and Gibbs would be going out to interview them today, so he bent his attention to scraping up whatever detail he could while Gibbs read Kate and McGee's report on Fitzpatrick's case files. At least, that's what Tony assumed he was doing. Here's hoping there's not some part of this he's cutting me out of.

As five o'clock approached Tony couldn't help the way he started watching the clock, wondering when Kate and McGee would return, and whether or not they'd be bringing Tangiers's alibi with them.

They got back at about a quarter after; Kate was looking particularly strident. "Report," Gibbs ordered briskly, flipping the file on his desk closed and leaning back in his chair.

"Tangiers is definitely sexist and violent," Kate said, lifting her chin a little. "You might be getting a complaint, but McGee and the building manager can witness for me." Gibbs lifted his eyebrows. Kate scowled. "He made repetitive, insistent, and increasingly aggressive passes at me," she elaborated. "And he only seemed encouraged when I started questioning him about Fitzpatrick. So I shut him down. Firmly."

"He said he was home alone, probably still sleeping, the morning the lieutenant was killed," McGee interjected when Kate paused. "So no alibi."