It was quiet day in the bullpen.

Abnormally quiet. There was no ongoing case, the ringing of telephones no where to be heard, the usual hum of computer monitors lacking in the air. More notably, no Gibbs to be found, a detail more alarming than the slowness of the day. And while the team was thankfully for an easy week, none voiced it aloud in fear of jinxing themeselves.

Tony, who had chosen to occupy his self with anything other than the stack of case reports needing done, decided to go over with Ziva the semantics of American football, a subject she still didn't know much of despite her time in the United States.

"I still do not understand why they call it football, you use your hands, not your feet!" Ziva said, shaking her head slightly.

The elevator dings just as she finishes her statement, McGee stepping out between the doors when it does, "That's not necessarily true Ziva."

Abby pops out behind him, bouncing towards them with every step she takes. "He's right," the Goth says, "you can kick a field goal."

"I do not understand," Ziva says, "I thought you only had to get the ball to a certain...yard? Yes, that's it, Yard. I don't recall there being goals."

Abby locks eyes with Tony, the two shaking their heads dramatically when they do.

"Looks like we need to take you to a football game." says Abby, directing her attention back to Ziva, "Probably easier to understand if you watch it."

Tony shot her a mischievous grin, "Or we could play a good ol' game of tackle football."

Ziva raised an eyebrow, "Tackle football? Is there another kind of football?"

"Flag football." McGee answers as he situates himself at his desk, turning his computer on in the process of doing so.

"The bossman told me he played in high school," Abby says, "I don't remember if he ever told me what position. Running back, I think, but I can't be sure. I know that he still watches college ball from time to time, but he doesn't bring up his years in sports much, I just know he played. Speaking of which, where is my silver fox?"

Tony shrugs, pulling out a sheet of paper and begins folding it into the familiar shape of a paper football, "Haven't seen him, which is very un-Gibbs like."

Abby goes to comment on the absence of their leader, but is stopped when he hears the elevator behind her ding once again.

While they all had expected him to step out when the doors opened, as he had an uncanny knack for appearing whenever he was the subject of conversation, they were surprised to find out that it wasn't him after all.

Instead stepped out a girl, noticeably a bit too young to be an employee at the building. Her red hair had tangled itself into a mess of curls from the breeze outside, an oversized black jacket hanging loosely around her shoulders, the pockets of which played home to her hands.

Just as the doors behind her began to slide close, a hand reaches out from inside the elevator, catching them before they can and opening them once more.

Out steps a second girl of the same age, the highlights in her hair making her appear a strawberry blonde, though it was clear her by her roots her natural color was the same as the girl before her. While the other had donned a jacket in result of the chill in the air, she had nothing more than a set of shorts and a t-shirt on, her shorter hair braided loosley behind her.

It didn't take a skilled investigator to know they were sisters. The resemblance was uncanny; twins if the team had to guess, though not quite identical the more you had looked.

When the second girl catches up to her sister, they both pause, eyes scanning around the half empty room before landing on the team.

"Ziva!' One of them exclaimed, taking a few hurried steps forward towards the mossad agent.

All attention was simultaneously turned to Ziva, the team watching as she intently stared at the girl in front of her, her features changing from confused to surprised in a matter of seconds. To say she looked caught off guard would be an understatement.

"You two," she says, eyes darting between the two as she rises from her seat, "What in the earth are you doing here?" She asks.

"I think you mean 'what in the world', not earth. And can't we just drop in to say hi to our dear friend?" The other one says, placing her hands on her hips.

"I don't know what you two consider friends to be, but I do not think we qualify as such."

The second girl rolls her eyes, "You're breaking my heart, Ziva. I thought we were closer than that."

"I would say not," she replies, "Barely knowing one another does not typically categorize two people as friends, certainly not if they haven't seen one another in over a decade. So I'll ask again, what are you doing here?"

The second girl, who still stood by the doors of the elevator went to answer, but was cut off by her sister before she had the chance, "Not for a pleasure visit, though you already knew that. Like you said, why drop by to see someone you haven't spoken to since they were kids? We're really here to see Agent Gibbs, is he available?"

The elevator dings just as the statement escapes her lips, and the man in question steps out, a cup of coffee clutched in one hand and he jacket in the other.

"Who's asking?" He says, taking a sip from his coffee and tossing his jacket on the back of his chair.

He eyes up the two younger women, each staring back at him with a stony expression.

"Is there a place we can speak," one says, making her way towards Gibbs, "Somewhere a little less...open?"

Gibbs looks to Ziva, who didn't offer anything but a stare back. In wake of her silence, he directs his attention back to the redhead in front of him, "Little young to be here on business, aren't you?"

She smirks, "Perhaps, but this is personal business." Her arms cross in front of her chest, her patience wearing thin.

He would be lying if he said that the idea of this twenty something year old showing up out of the blue claiming they were here on business didn't make him curious.

He turns on his heel, nodding his head back towards the elevator when he does without another word.

She rushes to catch up catch up with him, slipping between the doors just before they close.

Once the doors of the elevator had completely closed, Gibbs flicks the emergency switch, kicking off the lights and bringing them to halt between floors.

"That can't be good for the elevator." She says, though she doesn't look surprised at his actions. If anything, her tone gives off the impression that she's already bored with his antics.

"Did you come to criticize how I do my meetings, or did you come to talk?" He asks.

The redhead leaned against the wall, "I traveled a long way to find you, Agent Gibbs. I've known about you and your team for a good while now. Most of my life, if the stories I've been told are true. How successful you guys have been in your cases, all the people you've helped, and I knew you were the person to come too."

"With?" He takes a sip of his coffee.

She takes a deep breath, "Seven years ago, Director Jennifer Shepard died in a house fire, only it wasn't a house fire she died in, was it? It was a shooting in California, but you see, thats not quite the truth either."

Her gaze momentarily drops down to her feet as she releases the breath she was holding before jumping back up to meet his eyes again, "You see, Jenny Shepard isn't really dead."