Characters are not my own. Thanks to NCIS writers.

Chapter One

"Leon, we don't need D.C.'s help," she coolly responded, momentarily forgetting it was her boss she was speaking to. Not her mentor and close friend of the past seventeen years.

Gripping the phone tighter, she continued, "I already have five agents working the case, along with every outside agency in California supporting us. I know we can get this guy, Leon. Please just give us a little more time," she pleaded, which she never did, but right now, she was desperate, feeling her case pulled out from under her.

"Jack, listen," Leon explained, "It's still your case. I'm simply sending you another Special Agent, to hopefully give you a different perspective on what you have so far. I want you to run what you've got by him; you never know what you might discover working together."

Although his tone softened, there was still steel behind the words, letting her know she was talking to the Director of NCIS and not her friend. Still, she was not one to back down when she felt she was in the right.

"And what makes this agent so much more special than my special agents? We passed the same evals to earn the special in our titles," she barked, unwilling to have all the hard work for the past six months taken away and given to some East Coast "Special Agent."

"His names Gibbs, he's the best agent I've ever worked alongside. He has a way of seeing things that few others can. Similar to yourself," he added, trying to soften the blow with the truth.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs?" Jack asked in astonishment.

"Yes. You know Gibbs?" he asked.

"No," she hastily replied, unwilling to mention the time long ago they had met. "I just know of him, Gibbs has a bit of a reputation Leon, as I'm sure you are well aware," she added pointedly.

Unwilling to waver, Leon responded, "He'll be at the L.A. office by three, so be ready."

"Come on, Leon," she tried one last time.

Cutting her off, he put an end to the conversation, "Jack, I've given my orders. Hand over your files and evidence to Gibbs, and work with him to stop this serial killer. I don't want any more dead sailors due to this psychopath!" With that, he hung up the phone.

"God, I hope this works," Leon muttered to himself, "and help those poor agents that are going to get caught in the hurricane that's about to hit." He could only hope the turmoil of having his two best, but at times bull-headed agents, working together, would result in the capture and end of these murders.

Jack sat back in her chair, staring up at the ceiling.

"Leroy. Jethro. Gibbs," she whispered in disbelief. I doubt he will remember. It has been years; there's no way he's going to remember, it was so brief. Our paths barely crossed. Has it been fifteen years?

Fifteen years ago, Leon had failed at convincing her to leave sunny California and move closer to him, where he was working in D.C. However, he had been successful in convincing her NCIS would be a good fit, and she should join. He was her rock during those years, still was, and so, she had headed his advice.

It was 2005, and she was in Glynco, GA, at the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center. She was finishing up her NCIS basic training, while Gibbs was, well, she wasn't exactly sure what he was doing there that day. She wished she had just kept her thoughts to herself all those years ago. It would've saved her years of anxiousness over not knowing. Now, it was sure to be, for her anyway, a slightly uncomfortable working situation.

He's coming here, and I'm supposed to work with him, she thought, chewing on her thumbnail. She simply wanted to forget that first "meeting" she had with Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Gibbs had made a name for himself within NCIS. Recruits worth their salt had heard the stories and read the reports that went with Leroy Gibbs and his team. They had a class dedicated to his cases for goodness sake. Shaking her head, she marveled, I still don't understand how I didn't, in all my time in Georgia, see a picture of him. I know I would have remembered if I had seen one before, no way I would have forgotten.

She had been doing well in her training; the Army had made sure of that. After quickly finishing the field courses, she had taken a series of evaluations to see where she would best fit within the department. No surprise to her Commander, Jack had done very well in profiling and psych.

"Sloane, we are going to have you do a psych analysis for a case the D.C office is working on," he had told her, handing her a nameless file.

Excited at the opportunity to prove her worth, and start real work, Jack had spent the next sixteen hours working on the profile. To her embarrassment, she found herself slightly admiring the suspect, both in looks, intelligence, and personality. Hoping he wasn't wanted for anything too serious, Jack finished her report and sought out her Commander to hand-deliver it. She found him in his office.

The Commander was surprised to see her so early the next morning as she came in and set the file down next to the coffee he was drinking as he was checking his emails.

"That was quick work," he said, opening the profile. Scanning it, he hid a smile at the accuracy; his boss was going to love this. The Special Agent, probably not as much. Probably should keep the author of the report blacked out, he thought.

"Thanks, Sir. Any chance I can know what the suspect is wanted for?" she asked, trying to keep the curiosity from showing in her voice.

With a chuckle, her Commander responded, "Actually, it's not a suspect." "He's an agent," he supplied, with a shrug and a hint of remorse at his deceptiveness.

"An agent?" she repeated, trying to understand why he had asked her to do a profile on an agent.

"Yes, my boss is new to her post. She asked me to show evidence that would support my recommendation for L.A's new Forensic Psychologist. Sorry for the secrecy, this was the quickest way I could think of to convince her you are the right fit."

Not wanting to get her hopes up at the prospect of getting to do what she loved, in the city she loved, she asked, "How do you know that will be enough?"

"Believe me. You have provided Director Shepard a blueprint on how to best reason with Agent Gibbs. Trust me; it's enough," he finished with a laugh and a shake of his head. He couldn't believe the agency's fortune at getting Sloane on their team. He needed to make sure he thanked Leon for sending her their way.

"That file you gave me was on Special Agent Gibbs?" Jack stuttered out. Raising her voice, she continued, "You had me analyze and profile Special. Agent. Gibbs?" she accused, forgetting momentarily who she was speaking to, and that his office door was open.

"What's this about Special Agent Gibbs," a terrifyingly calm voice asked, swiftly bringing Jack's and the Commander's discussion to an abrupt end.

Spinning around, she collided with, at this particular moment, the last person she wanted to see. Pictures and gossip about that glare don't do you justice, Jack thought, trying to ignore the steel blue look he was aiming at her. Slowly, to show she was unfazed by his presence and proximity, she turned back to her Commander. Eyes pleading with him to get her out of this situation, she asked, "Did you need me for anything further, Sir?"

"Ah, Gibbs, just the agent I was getting ready to look for, do come in," the Commander smoothly covered. "Lieutenant, you're dismissed. We'll finish up on the rest of your assignment at sixteen-hundred hours," he added, giving Sloane a nod of his head, her cue to leave.

Unable to catch much of the conversation that followed, she quickly took her leave of the Commander's office.

"You gunna tell me what that was about, Commander?" she heard him ask as she rounded the corner of the long hallway. Out of earshot, she was unable to catch the reply.

She tried to get information on how the conversation had ended when she met up with the Commander that afternoon. But, he was tight-lipped. Instead, he merely handed over her first assignment and told her not to worry about it. Jack had her doubts. She was sure, by now, Gibbs had seen the profile she had written and was not happy about it. The question was, did he know who the author was? If she had to guess, Jack would say he would want to know who to blame for the new Director giving him trouble at work. Currently, she had her own issues with this new Director.

She didn't like being lied to and disliked it, even more when it was her new employer doing the lying. Were it not for Leon; she probably would have told the Director just where she could shove her report. She was disappointed at the probability that her profile would leave Gibbs with a negative view of her before she had even officially met him.

Already, she had a high level of respect for Agent Gibbs, thanks to the cases she had read about him and his team. And now, having delved into the psychosis of what made him, the man he was, she held him in even higher esteem. The pictures in his file, and getting to see him up close and personal didn't hurt, Jack admitted, with a small smile.

Sighing, she looked down at her desk. This office was practically a second home to her after all these years. She had told herself years ago that it would be okay. She was going to be working in California. Gibbs and the Director were in D.C. She wouldn't need to worry about their paths crossing. It would be fine.

And it had been, for fifteen years. Yes, she had followed his career throughout the years, what decent agent wouldn't? But, it was always from a distance. From time-to-time, she got called to support the D.C office with a profile, but her communications went through Leon or Dr. Mallard.

Now, in a matter of hours, he would be here, in her office, wanting her simply to hand over her files. Stuffing down the admiration she felt for Gibbs and the embarrassment she felt thinking about him, she took a deep breath, "This is my case. He doesn't get to take it," she grumbled. All-the-while, heading towards her office to put together everything the team had on the case. I may be letting him in on the case, but I sure as hell won't be giving him the lead, she resolved. She was the team leader, and she was going to make damn sure he was aware of that when he arrived.

Chapter Two

Gibbs was in the air by noon, having received Leon's orders to head to L.A. shortly after arriving to work that morning. There had been a short "discussion" over who was going to be the agent to help out in California. He was in the process of telling McGee, his most senior field agent, to pack a bag for the trip, when Leon stopped him, giving an order of his own.

"That's not who I had in mind, Gibbs," he interrupted, giving Gibbs a knowing look.

"Who, Torres?" he asked, doubtfully. "M'Gee will do better with a new team, he'll also be able to help with the FaceChat and InstaTweet stuff," he argued.

"I have no doubt McGee would do just fine in California, but I need my best agent there, and he's not it."

"Com' on Leon, No," Gibbs responded, having caught on to who he was intent on sending.

"California, Leon? I'd rather go to Afghanistan," he grumbled, knowing he wouldn't say no to a direct order if Leon gave it.

"Sorry, Gibbs, that's an order. Your flight leaves at noon. When you get to the L.A. office, you're going to want to find Agent Sloane," were his final words on the matter.

Glaring up the stairs as Leon headed into his office, he allowed himself seven seconds to be 's full of fake people with egos the size of their houses. I've been there twice, and that was two times too many, he thought. Settling on the fact that this was the way it was going to be, he grabbed his keys. He needed to stop at home to bring some clothes that would be suitable for California. His typical go bag wasn't going to work in this situation, who knows how long I'm going to have to stay there, damn California! I can't believe I'm going back.

Arriving at the airport with twenty minutes to spare, Gibbs boarded and settled in for the six-hour flight. The time allowed him to look over the files Leon had sent with him. Leon had told him there were more files and evidence in L.A., and that he should ask for Sloane when he arrived. This Sloane must think mighty high of himself. Why would Leon ask me to find him first, a profiler, instead of the team leader? I wouldn't want some West Coast agent coming and stealing my case, wonder how Jack feels about his profiler? Bet they don't like Sloane either, Gibbs thought, deciding he probably wasn't going to be new friends with this agent.

He knew from Ducky that Sloane was a profiler. Valuing Ducky's view, and having a low tolerance when it came to psychologists, he had left communicating with L.A.'s profiler in Ducky's capable hands over the years. I don't know much about Sloane, but his team leader, Jack, sure is thorough. Some of the best damn case notes I've ever read, he thought, going back to the files.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please put your trays and seats in their upright position," the flight attendant began their announcement to the cabin.

Pulled from his studying, he glanced down at his watch. He was shocked to discover he'd been looking over the files for the majority of the flight. Scribbling a note to himself, thinking, I'd like to talk to Sloane about his profiling, there's something familiar in the tone of em'. Feel like I've read one. Having an excellent memory, he was irked that he was unable to place when or where he would have come across a report by Sloane. He knew he had helped D.C. out with profiles over the years, but he couldn't remember ever reading one. For their cases, he had always gone off of Ducky's notes. At least it seems L.A. has some competent people working for them; maybe I won't have to call my team here to help; after all, he thought as he put the files away, getting ready for landing.

Thinking about heading to the hotel first, Gibbs changed his mind when he realized it was past 4'oclock. It had taken an hour to find his way out of the maze of LAX and get his rental car. He wanted to be able to put faces to the team he would be working with for the foreseeable future. So, despite being exhausted, and a bit grumpy, he headed his small rental car, sure am going to miss my truck, towards L.A.'s NCIS headquarters.

Merging on to I-5, he soon realized it was unlikely he would be reaching the office before five. Reaching for his phone to let Sloane know he was going to be late, he glanced in his rearview mirror to see a red Porsche speeding up behind him. The moment before impact, the Porsche whipped over into the left lane. "Damn West Coast drivers," he grumbled, releasing the tension in his shoulders and his grip on the steering wheel. Shaking his head, he decided to leave his phone on its clip and focus on not getting run off the road.

Frustrated, Jack scribbled down a note, taped it to her office door, and left. The past two hours, she had nervously been awaiting Gibbs's arrival. Wanting to get their first official meeting over with, she had decided to play nice, as best she could. First, sitting waiting patiently, with the files and evidence in her office. She was now agitated that he not only was late but had failed to call and let her know. She had sent the team home at five after it was clear Gibbs would not be showing up. Jack recognized she had only waited as long as she had because of her desperation to stop the killer. Her need to give the victims' families closure, trumped her small problem. Damn East Coast manners, she thought. An hour later, she was done. She was frustrated, tired, and hungry as she got into her car and started her drive. She was comforted by the thought that she would soon be at the beach. It was the beach that kept her composed as she sat in the horrible L.A. traffic.

Located between the NCIS offices and her home was Seal Beach. Seal Beach was not only a beach; it was the name of the small town Seal Beach resided. It was known for having the second-longest wooden pier in California, fantastic surfing, and great beach-side restaurants. It was a favorite place for Jack to go after work to unwind. Some of her favorite things to do at Seal Beach included; enjoying a stroll down the pier, a run along the beach, and good bourbon at Clancy's. However, her favorite part of Seal Beach was when she could grab her board from Joe, at Surf Shack,(he is kind enough to let her store it there) to do some sunset surfing. Yes, Jack loved Seal Beach. However, lately, a different reason was bringing Jack to her beloved beach.

Seal Beach happened to be home to the Naval Weapons Station Seal Beach military base. It also is the crime scene for six murdered Navy men and women over the past six months. Jack's profile of the killer described him as a psychopath that has a vendetta against the Navy. There was a reason the bodies kept getting dumped on the same beach. As of yet, they were unable to figure out why. What they had discovered was that not a single victim worked at the weapons base. They were from all over L.A., but not one victim worked, lived, or had any other connection to Seal Beach.

The salt-filled wind flung Jack's hair from her face as she ran down the beach, allowing her time to process through the day's events. Breathing in the sea-filled air, Jack felt the ache she had been carrying in her shoulders all day, begin to dissipate. Wanting to be where she said she'd be, Jack decided to keep the run short, in case he showed. Filling her aching lungs with another deep breath, she headed over to the pier. Walking the long pier helped put all her thoughts into perspective. Do a mental sorting of them. Standing at the end of the pier gazing at the pink and purple hues in the sky, she listened to the soft crashing of the waves. Jack couldn't help but relax and be comforted.

She came here not only to enjoy the beauty of the beach but to remember that there is still beauty after pain. She'd learned, through years of therapy, to process her pain from all those years ago correctly. The anxiety, and learning to let it in, had molded her to the agent she was today. This pain was different. Jack was a problem solver. Not being able to end the suffering for all the families was taking its toll on her.

With each new body showing up, the pain grew. Through her team's hard work, they thought they had figured out the killer's schedule. Today was the 23rd. With no new body today, that meant she had until the 29th before the next murder would 's if he does his dumping the same day as his killing, she thought, grabbing her notepad to remind herself to check her files tomorrow.

Her grumbling stomach pointed out that all she had eaten was the hardboiled eggs with her morning coffee. With a sigh of disappointment that he was not going to show up, she decided it was time to call it. The excellent food at Clancy's and bourbon were calling her name. As she turned to leave, she paused. Not twenty feet in front of her, she saw him. He seemed to be studying something in her direction as she had turned. From twenty feet, she could feel the pleasure in his smile, as it transformed his previously stern face. Meeting his gaze, she returned his smile with one of her own and a wave as she headed towards him. She was relieved to be able to meet Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs finally.

Chapter Three

Arriving at the office at half-past six, and irritated, Gibbs was unable to locate Jack or Sloane. The agent he had run into while looking, told him Jack had sent the team home at five and had then left around six.

"Well, can you tell me where Sloane's office is? Maybe I can still catch him," he asked the confused looking agent.

"The office is upstairs, but as I said, left around six," the agent answered. Having heard stories about Gibbs, he was unwilling to question his seeming confusion.

Damn, missed them both. What kind of lazy California hours do they run here? Thanking the agent with a curt, "Thanks," and a tip of his hand to head, he headed for the stairs, deciding he'd take a look around anyways, learn the layout. Seeing the office door with a letter taped to it that had his name on the outside, he figured it must be Sloane's. Grabbing and quickly scanning the short note, irritation flashed over his face as he realized he had just missed him. Heading back downstairs, he hoped to find the agent to get a little more information from him.

"Can you tell me how far away Seal Beach is?" Gibbs asked.

"Not far, bout ten minutes on I-5S to HWY-22, from there, you will see signs."

Thanking the agent again, he returned to his car. He figured even if Sloane had left by the time he arrived, it would still be a useful trip.

As the agent said, the drive was fast. Arriving at Seal Beach, he reluctantly gave credit to California. He couldn't help but relax a little at the view in front of him. The Pacific Ocean was a sight to see at sunset. Achingly beautiful, a mixture of fierce reds and soft purples, filled the sky. A brilliant ball of orange hovered just above the horizon as it tried desperately to hold on to the last moments of daylight. It left him momentarily frozen as he took in the beauty of California, I'll give you one for that. What else have you got? He questioned, walking towards the pier where Agent Sloane had said to meet.

Surprised that there were so few people out on such a beautiful night, he had yet to see anyone that could be Sloane. There was a couple with two kids playing fetch with their retriever, and a few couples sitting on the beach enjoying each other and the sunset. Besides the odd fishermen, it seemed like no one else was out tonight. Heading down the pier, he stopped, noticing another person standing at the end.

It definitely wasn't Sloane, but she caught his attention. The rays of the setting sun bounced off her golden hair as she leaned slightly back from the railing as if welcoming all the warmth the rays would give. Her sudden laughter took him by surprise. He had been a bit intense of his appraisal of her, and her body language a moment ago seemed to suggest she was not having the best day. The sound of her laughter was all he needed to convince him he should approach her and introduce himself.

Walking the length of the pier, he was about twenty feet away, when she suddenly turned and met his gaze. Wanting her to feel comfortable, he dazzled with a sideways grin as a way of greeting. He was delighted when she not only returned the smile with one of her own that matched the brilliance of her hair; but also waved and started walking towards him. California, point two, he thought, efficiently closing the distance between them.

"Well, hello there!" she beamed at him. "Jacqueline," she offered, extending her hand. Why did I just call myself Jacqueline, and not Jack or Sloane? She thought. You want him to see you as a woman, Jack, she self-analyzed.

"Gibbs," he offered, shaking her hand. Smiling, but surprised at her friendliness. He didn't know if all Californians were this friendly, but he was thrilled that the beautiful brown-eyed, Jacqueline was. He continued, "It's nice to meet you," "Have you been enjoying the sunset?" he asked, nodding out to the sea. Seeing surfers speckled in the water, he added, "Does everyone in California surf?"

"I don't know about everyone, but I try to get my board out at least twice a week," she answered, eyes twinkling at the appraisal she saw in his eyes. "Do you surf?" she teasingly asked.

Laughing, he responded, "Nah, I'm sure the knees wouldn't be able to handle that anymore, they've seen enough action already." Regrettably, he realized that he would need to cut the conversation short. Putting business first, he asked, "I'm meeting a coworker out here, thinkin' he may have already left. Have you happened to see a suit around here? Probably looks a little full of himself," he added.

A little full of himself? Him? He doesn't realize who he's talking to and thinks Sloane is a he! What would have given him that impression? She was pulled from her thoughts as he cleared his throat.

"Sorry," she began, "You said you are looking for a coworker? You don't know what he looks like, though?" she asked, trying to find understanding in what he was saying.

"That's right; I'm just in from D.C and was supposed to meet him here," he replied.

His answer confirmed her suspicions. "I can't think of anyone fitting your description around here. People here tend to be fairly relaxed, no suits," she cheekily finished. As an afterthought, she added, "However, I did see someone that looked like they might work for the Army or Navy at the end of the pier."

He has no idea who I am, but maybe that's a good thing, I can start fresh, she realized with a smile.

"Oh? I didn't see anyone else on the pier." "I was slightly distracted, though," he smiled impishly. It looks like I'll be meeting Sloane after all. I was ready to see if Jacqueline wanted to grab a drink. With regret, he continued, "I hate to cut this short, but if you can point me in the direction you last saw him, I'd like to see if I can catch him."

Jack recognized she needed to come clean sooner rather than later. After all, he didn't seem like the type to enjoy games.

Still finding the situation amusing, she asked, "You're looking for Sloane, right?"

It was amazing how swiftly his body language shifted; soft and flirtatious one second, business and intense the next. "How'd you know I was looking for Sloane?" he demanded.

"I happen to know her," she answered, hoping he'd hear the importance of the statement.

Know her? Gibbs thought that couldn't be right.

Holding her hand out again, she smiled, "Let's try this again, it's nice to meet you, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. I'm Special Agent Jacqueline Sloane..."

Wait! Jacqueline...Sloane...She's, Sloane? Sloane is Jacqueline...the profiler? And, Jacqueline, shit, that must be Jack, the team leader. Damnit, why didn't Leon say? Why didn't I ask? How the hell did I get this so wrong?

Returning to what she was saying, he caught enough to realize that yes, he had indeed made a first-rate ass of himself.

"….Forensic Psychologist, and Team Leader of the best NCIS team in L.A," she finished, unsure how much the stunned man had heard.

"Jack. You go by Jack?" he managed to ask, desperately trying to work through what she had revealed.

Taking in his shocked face, she took pity and decided she needed to give him a few moments to process and compose himself as she further explained.

As kindly as she could, she elaborated, "I have a dual job at NCIS. Emails are titled to Sloane when I'm working a profile, and Jack when it is about a team case. It makes things easier for everyone in the building. Jacqueline became Jack some years ago. We are all so used to it; we didn't think of the potential confusion it could lead to in the agency," she finished.

Slightly tilting her head and offering a small shrug of her shoulders, she waited, giving him time to process all that she had shared. They weren't kidding; he doesn't give anything away, she thought, studying his face to see signs he was ready to talk. Walking over to the nearby bench, she sat, attempting to give him space.

His thoughts were a jumble. The way Leon spoke of her, hadn't he mentioned their time in the military together? Some sort of military raid, in which they took part? I assumed since women weren't allowed to do ground combat until 2013, she was a he. Duck! Ducky had referred to her as his charming Californian twin, made it sound like she was a man too! But I recognized the style of her analysis on the serial killer. Where would I have read that? Have we met before? No. No way, I forgot a meeting with her. I must have seen one of her reports from Ducky or Leon throughout the years.

He'd sworn to never read another psychologist's analysis after my only time reading one. It had been years ago, but after the trouble, it had caused him with Jenny, he wasn't going to be soon forgetting.

Jacqueline! Holy hell! It couldn't be. Could it? Trying to slow the racing of his thoughts, he brought his attention back to Jack, only to realize she was no longer standing next to him.

Looking over to where she sat, he was struck by her peaceful composure and instantly felt calmed. She didn't seem to mind that he needed time to process. She was looking out at the ocean, allowing him to enjoy her beautiful profile. Appreciating her thoughtfulness, he realized he needed to say something to move past the awkwardness that was wholly his creating. He was unable to stop the slight smile before he masked it with a stern frown and headed towards the bench.

Taking a seat, he looked over at her, "Yes, let's try this again." Extending his hand, dimple showing, he began, "Nice to meet you, Special Agent Sloane, and according to Duck, Forensic Psychologist extraordinaire."

Taking the compliment for the olive branch it was, she shook his hand, not even trying to hide the amusement she was feeling about the entire situation. Offering an olive branch of her own, she replied, "Now that we have that out of the way, why don't we talk about why you're here."

"Let me start by saying those are some damn fine reports you and your team have put together," he praised. "Looks like an intriguing case we have."

"Case we have?" she questioned as her angst over jurisdiction instantly put her on edge.

"Well, yeah, that's why I'm here, Sloane," he answered, unsure where she was going with the remark.

Standing and squaring her body in front of his, she looked down at him and defiantly laid her claim. "This is my case, Gibbs. I'm happy to have you support us, but I'll be damned if I let someone come and take it from me." "I don't care how special of an agent you are," she finished, eyes clashing with his suddenly amused looking ones. What the hell is he laughing at? She inwardly fumed.

Well, California won't be boring, he thought, as he was now the one unable to mask their amusement at the situation.

Refraining from yelling at a man she had met only ten minutes ago, there was ice in her voice as she calmly asked, "You want to tell me what part of this is funny?"

"Jack, stop," he answered, holding up a hand. "Rule thirty-eight, your case, your lead," he finished simply.

Well, damn. That's not how I envisioned this conversation going. All the rumors I've heard, I was ready for a fight. And what the hell is rule thirty-eight? I don't know how this is going to end up, but it's for damn sure not going to be boring, she thought, sitting back down with a sigh of relief and as much grace as she could muster.

His bumping into her shoulder pulled her from her thoughts. Looking over to meet his attentive eyes, he offered further assurance to his understanding of his position on the case with his next question.

"So, Boss, what did you want to show me?"

Getting to her feet, she gestured for him to follow her down to the beach. "As you know—every victim we have found has been dumped here, most in the same general area. I'd like to show you, see what you think," she finished pointing at a spot down the beach.

As they walked, Gibbs remembered his earlier confusion about her name and the familiar-sounding profile. "Say, Jack," he began. "Before I forget. Your profiles, you always sign them as Sloane, or was there ever a time you used Jacqueline?"

Suddenly stopping, "Shit," was her reply.

Chapter Four

"Jack?" her sudden halt had him jumping out of the way to avoid tripping over her. "Jack, you okay," he asked again, as she still hadn't moved from where she'd stopped.

Years of negotiations and three failed marriages, he had taught Gibbs how to get information from someone. Some needed gentle prodding. Others, a steel glare and silence, was all it took. Then there were those, like his fourth wife, where you prayed they didn't have any weapons on them when you "talked". Jack, it seemed, was a mix of the first two. Still not responding, he tried for the firmer approach. "Hey, Jack! Where you at?"

"Yes, sorry, I heard you. The question took me by surprise is all," she managed, the tension in her stomach instantly reemerging. "What made you ask about that?"

"I was reading your profile on the killer, which is not something I normally do," he started. "There was something about it, I don't know, it just caught my attention," he shrugged, then continued, "Like, I had seen the style of writing before. Only, I don't typically read psychologist reports, leave that to Duck." Smirking, he concluded, "Lawyers and Psychologists." "No, offense."

Voice dripping with sarcasm, she responded, "Oh, why would I be offended?" "It's not like you're implying my life's work is useless." Turning, she continued down the beach, muttering to herself, "What an ass, fifteen years, and my report is still just as accurate, unbelievable."

"Ha! I knew it; I knew that report was yours," he yelled after her in vindication.

"What if it was?" she yelled, turning back at him, eyes daring him to challenge her. Waving her hands, she continued, "What if, God forbid, Agent Gibbs." "I did my job, and wrote a report on an unknown person, under the orders of my Commander?" she finished hands on her hips, eyes defiant.

"The Commander… It was you, in his office that day," he accused. "Do you know the living hell you created for me?" he glared down at her as they now stood toe to toe.

"Me?" she accused, jabbing a finger in his direction, not letting his height or the intensity of his glare intimidate her. "I wrote the truth; they are your damn characteristics. I can't help that you tend to be a first-rate ass, that's on you," she finished, face now flushed with anger.

For several heated seconds, his intense scowl mirrored hers as they stared at each other. Jack's large, expressive eyes read like the headlines of a newspaper. Gibbs saw how rapidly her anger melted. In a matter of seconds, her wrath changed from black storm clouds to a glassy lake. Although she had calmed down, she had not backed down and seemed to, yet again, be waiting for his response.

Her fierceness and unapologetic nature had taken him by surprise. But why should it? Look at the positions she holds at NCIS. You stepped in it this time, he thought.

"Ah, Jack," he conceded, shoulder dropping slightly, "Why'd you have to go and write such a goddamn thorough report," he stated bluntly.

Voice tinged with remorse, she explained, "It was my job, Gibbs. I honestly didn't know who the subject was until after I turned it in. I was not happy about it."

"That's right," he replied, surprised at the sudden memory, "You and the Commander, you were arguing about something when I stopped in that day."

Relief washed over her as she realized his anger at her seemed to be melting, "Yes, it was my first profile; it's what got me hired into NCIS. The Commander and I, we were disagreeing on the deceptive nature of The Director's plans for using my work. Then you came in and put a stop to the conversation."

Offering an apologetic smile, he answered, "Sure would have made my life easier if you weren't quite so good at your job from the start. Guess I'm thankful that the report's now destroyed." "The only way Director Shepard could keep me from retiring was to promise to destroy it," he smiled, recalling the memory of his small victory.

That's not why it got destroyed, Jack thought. Oh well, might as well let the Director have this one, no harm in her taking the credit.

"I'm glad it got destroyed. Although, I think I might have a copy floating around in one of my file cabinets," she teased. "If you give me any more trouble while you're here, I'll be forced to go dig it out," she added cheekily, causing a frown and narrowed brows from Gibbs.

"If that's the case, you might as well find that report as soon as you're back in the office," he grinned, unapologetically.

"Ass," was her only reply as she effectively ended the conversation turning and continuing down the beach, not looking to see if he was following.

"Proud of it," he laughed, picking up his pace to catch back up with her, no shame in the view he was enjoying as he did.

Reaching the spot where they had discovered the last body, she stopped.

"This the place?" he asked, walking up behind her.

"Yes, the last body was discovered here. All the others, within a hundred yards, give or take."

"No one's seen anything or reported anyone unusual in the area?" he asked, scanning up and down the beach.

"Nothing. A couple reports of bonfires on the beach, and some rowdy surfers, but they haven't led to anything," she supplied, as they turned and starting walking back to the parking lot.

"How long have you had the beach under surveillance?" he asked, knowing, at this point, it wasn't a matter of if, but how long.

Jack's eyebrow arched, impressed with his questions, "Almost two months now," she answered. "I was convinced we'd catch him last month when we figured out his pattern." Rubbing her forehead, not attempting to hide the anger at their failure, she continued, "Then, on the 14th, we got a call that there was another body."

Shifting his body to lean against his car, he offered truth, "Not your fault Jack, sounds like you've been doing everything you can."

"Yeah, well, it isn't enough, is it. Why do you think Leon sent you?" she responded, tight-lipped, kicking the gravel from under her foot.

Taking in her exhausted state and knowing his own, Gibbs put an end to the conversation, "It has nothing to do with your ability to lead your team. You know Leon better than that." Narrowing eyes, adding, "Think I got an idea for how I can help, got to think on it, though." Nudging her shoulder, he finished, "Let's call it a day, pick this up tomorrow."

"Yeah, okay, sounds good," she answered, heading to her car. Calling over her shoulder, she added, "Bring the coffee tomorrow, Probie. I take mine with lots of sugar." At the sound of his laughter, she finished, "See you at seven, none of that East Coast tardiness crap you showed today."

Grinning, Gibbs pulled out of the parking lot towards his hotel, and sleep. He was feeling slightly guilty over his enjoyment of the last few hours. After all, he was in California to help catch a serial killer, not fall for his temporary boss.

Come on, rule 12 Gibbs, he chided himself, giving a mental head slap. Not really a coworker, he argued, unsure who he was rooting for to win the argument.

Forcing his thoughts to return to the case, and not Jack, he recalled the idea he'd had of how they might be able to catch the killer. In his tiredness, it seemed like a plausible idea. However, he wanted to sleep on it, mull it over before he mentioned it to her. His feelings for her might make his plan a little more complicated. Also, he wasn't sure how she would respond to doing undercover work, especially since it would be with him.

Don't think I imagined the interest I saw in her eyes. Suppose it could have been anger, Gibbs thought. He'd seen both emotions so frequently with his exes that sometimes the two emotions became one. I'll find out tomorrow, were his final thought as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Thankful to finally have eaten, Jack left Clancy's and headed home. She'd thought about inviting Gibbs, but decided against it. Now was not the time to go down that road; they had a killer to catch. Besides, she needed time to sort through those feelings.

Seeing several missed calls and knowing he was anxiously waiting on an update, she called Leon. Even though it was past midnight for him, she laughed when he picked up on the second ring.

"Yeah, Leon, he arrived… Yes, he figured it out rather quickly actually," she answered, smiling at the ridiculousness of the past few hours. "Honestly, it took him longer to realize that who he was talking to was his boss than it took him to place me as the author of that damn report."…. "It's not funny, Leon! Do you know how embarrassed I was?" she scolded, unable to hide the laughter from her voice. "In any case, we've hashed it out; I think we understand each other, shouldn't be any more problems."… "Leon, stop, that was not a joke."…. "Yes, we will be picking things up first thing in the morning. He mentioned that he had an idea; I'll let you know if it leads to anything."…. "Okay, thanks, Leon, you too." she hung-up the call just as she was pulling into the parking spot in front of her condo.

Heading for bed immediately after showering, desperate for sleep after the long day, Jack took a few moments to reflect. Pleased with how the night had ended, she figured she'd finally be able to sleep. Leon seemed happy too that they both had made it through their first meeting relatively unscathed. She was disturbed by Leon's prediction about how she and Gibbs would get on and strength of her sudden feelings towards him. It's just the case, she told herself, relieved to have someone with his abilities helping. I don't care what Leon says. I'm not attracted to Gibbs, were her final thoughts, before sleep stole her away.

Getting off the elevator the next morning, Jack was not surprised to see Gibbs already making himself at home with her team. Nash was wildly waving his hands as he retold one of his stories, no doubt, with a few embellishments. Jamal shook his head at Nash's ridiculous claims and had Gibbs smirking as the two reminded him of his agents back in D.C.

Grateful, he had taken her order on the coffee seriously; she grabbed the cup sitting on her desk, giving him a thankful cheer with it. "So, what do we have today? Anything new?" she asked the room.

Three eyes met, deciding who would be the one to share their idea, "Yeah, boss. We think Gibbs might have an idea of setting up a sting," Jamal stepped up and shared.

"Oh, yeah?" she asked, eyebrows rising, "Do share, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs took a breath; he was unsure how she would respond to the suggestion and didn't want it to come off as railroading her investigation. "We talked yesterday that you've been surveying the beach, but from a distance. I thought it might be time to put eyes on the beach, a more direct approach."

Trying not to be defensive, she explained, "We can't increase our presence Gibbs, or we will scare the killer off. That beach is our best lead."

"Yup, know that, Jack."

Her understanding was quick, "You're talking undercover work, aren't you?"

Jamal and Nash exchanged glances, finding it hard to believe this was the first case Jack and Gibbs had worked with one another.

Smiling, he asked, "Now, can you think of anyone you know that has done extensive undercover work?"

"I'm not sending you in there alone, you're too new to the case," she argued, seeing where he was going with this.

"Right. It would probably be a good idea to have someone that has detailed insight on the case and understands the mind of the scumbag." Tilting his head, he asked, "You know anyone that would fit that, Jack?"

"I think I might," she answered, meeting his scrutiny.

"You two decide all this last night?" Jamal asked, looking between the two agents, interrupting the close looks Gibbs and Jack were giving each other. "Cause you know, it sounds like you have already planned this all out."

"No," she answered, "but Gibbs is right. It makes sense. No offense Nash, Jamal, I don't think anyone would buy we were a couple. This seems like the best bet we have of catching him. Today's the 24th, and we know he dumps the bodies within 24 hours of the killings, so that gives us three days to set up and be ready to go. I want Gibbs and me to be in position by the 27th," she finished giving her orders, looking around the room for the team's agreement.

"Sounds good," "You got it, Boss," her team replied, both leaving the squad room to get started.

"You okay with this, Jack?" he softly asked, now that the room was empty.

Showing full confidence, she answered, "Of course, why wouldn't I be?" "It's a solid plan. And hey, I'll be able to surf while on the job, that doesn't happen every day, does it?" she finished, turning back to her computer to hide the emotions playing out on her face.

Undercover with Gibbs? What the hell did I just agree to? She thought as she began an email. This had better work. . .