AN: So once again, school has proved to be a wonderful inspiration for a new story. This time, it was my History teacher, talking about his basement or something. Anyway, I spent most of last night writing this and have now probably failed my Arts Exam this morning.
Alright, English still isn't my first language, I can still only write in the middle of the night and I still don't own NCIS

They waited until the lights in the Major's bedroom went out.

Petty Officers Sachs and Sullivan both released a sigh of relief. It was about time. They had been sitting in Sullivan's old, dented, sad excuse for a car for several hours now, waiting for the Major to hit the rack.

Sachs had been rubbing his hands together, desperately trying to get some warmth into his fingers, for the last hour or so. Petty Officer Sullivan was getting annoyed with his incessant pleading to turn on the heat. He couldn't turn on the heat, because he couldn't start the motor, because he couldn't risk Major Donaldson noticing his car on the other side of the street. He had thought even a brainless heap of pure muscle, like Sachs could understand that. Well, he had thought wrong.

They waited another ten minutes or so, just to make sure the Major was asleep. Then they exited the car and walked across the street, right up to Major Donaldson's door.

"What 'bout those, Eric?" Sachs muttered, motioning with his chin towards the footprints, they had left in the snow.

Sullivan shrugged. Snow was falling heavily. He was confident their tracks would be covered up, by morning. Truth be told, he didn't really care either way. He was done with being cautious. The only reason they had to get rid of the Major was that he was being too cautious, what with the investigation going on an all.

Sullivan had tried talking to him. He had told him how this new deal couldn't possibly go wrong, had told him all about his ingenious escape plan, but the Major had refused to listen. So he had to go.

Petty Officer Sullivan fished the key to the Major's house out of his pocket. He had taken it a week ago. Snatched it right out of the Major's suitcase, when he hadn't been looking. Sullivan allowed himself a small, twisted smile, as he thought about the irony. Major Donaldson had only made him part of their operation, because of his excellent skills as a pick-pocket. Now those skills would be leading to his untimely demise.

The Major was fast asleep, when they entered his bedroom. Now it was time, for Sachs to show off his special skill. Wordlessly, Sullivan handed his friend his gun. Sachs went up to the Major's bed, pointed the gun right between his eyes and without so much as a second thought, fired a single shot.

Tony looked up from the heaps upon heaps of old evidence, piled up on his desk, just in time to see Special Agent Nelson rushing past him towards the ladies room, desperately trying to hide the tears running down her face, muttering something about "that bastard". Tony didn't have time to wonder what had upset the young woman so much. While he was still staring in the direction, Special Agent Nelson had rushed off to, someone had kicked his desk (causing several of the awkwardly balanced files, to drop to the floor), thrown a new folder in his lap and hurled not one, but two cups of coffee into his trash can.

There was no doubt about it. Leroy Jethro Gibbs was pissed. And he wasn't making the slightest effort, to hide it.

It had taken Gibbs all of ten minutes to figure out just how crappy a day this was going to be. The streets were covered with snow and he was sure that by the time they got out of the office, traffic would be chaos. Of course, he had been in a bad mood, long before the day even started. He had been barking orders and giving out more head slaps than usual and generally riding his team for pretty much the entire last two weeks. Ever since they hadn't been able to get any kind of lead on their last case.

After a small terror group in southern Sudan had been destroyed, US forces had discovered that a large percentage of the group's weapons arsenal was in fact US Navy issue. Due to the sheer number of weapons that had apparently been bought by this foreign group, the case had been handed to the MCRT.

It hadn't taken Abby all that long, to figure out how the weapons had been smuggled. The serial numbers confirmed that almost all of them had previously been reported damaged or malfunctioning, most of them from Norfolk. The Navy had disposed of them, but somebody must have made sure the containers were sent abroad, instead of to the local landfill.

But after they had discovered the how, the bigger mystery remained. Two weeks after they had started investigating, they were no closer to figuring out who was behind the plan. And with every passing day, Gibbs' mood had dropped another couple of notches. He wanted answers and results and he didn't take kindly to being disappointed.

Three coffees into the day, it looked like he had been right. They couldn't find a single new lead. How the hell were they supposed to find leads, anyway? It wasn't like they had come up with a specific date, the weapons had been stolen at. So there was no way to check for suspects' alibis and without that, they couldn't get a single warrant to search any of their houses.

Gibbs looked up from the frustratingly long list of possible suspects, just to see McGee relaxing back into his chair, gazing at the ceiling. Within seconds, he had positioned himself in front of the junior Agent, towering over him. McGee looked up at him, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

"It's...uhm...I was just..."

Great. Apparently he had become intimidating enough over the last couple of days, to make McGee revert back into Probie-mode. Still, he wasn't just gonna let this slide.

"You were just what, McGee? Dreaming up a new plot for your next novel? Cause it sure as hell didn't look like you were doing your job!"

He was just about to rip into McGee even more, when he was interrupted by his Senior Field Agent.

"Aw, come on boss! Don't go all Mr Burns on him. It's not, like we have any job to do, really. It's not McGee's fault that you noticed him. Let's face it: not everybody can be as good at fake working, as me."

Gibbs closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. He knew what DiNozzo was doing. It was the same thing he had been doing for the last couple of days. Whenever he felt that Gibbs was living up to his second B too much, he stepped in, tried to make him take out his anger on himself, rather than the rest of the team.

Gibbs could tell that he was trying his hardest to get McGee off the hook. Lounging in his chair, his legs resting on his desk, chewing on some chocolate candy and that goddamn DiNozzo grin plastered onto his face. He had even thrown in some movie reference (or was it a TV show?), just to make absolutely sure Gibbs would notice how his work ethic was even worse than McGee's.

He was just about to oblige him, when he was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. Shooting one last warning look in the direction of both his agents, he went and answered the call.

Two minutes later he entered Autopsy, to be greeted by the sight of Ducky trying to persuade an obviously hung-over Abby to drink her morning Caff Pow!.

"What you got for me, Duck?"

"Why, good morning to you too, Jethro."

Normally, Gibbs would have smiled at the M.E.'s insistence on proper etiquette. These days, all he could do, was grunt and hope that he had been called down here for some reason, other than to force-feed Abby her much needed caffeine boost.

"I've found something really cool" Abby chimed in, resting her head on one of the autopsy tables. "I come in here, right? And Ducky is doing this autopsy…which isn't the cool thing I discovered. It's pretty much normal really. Finding Ducky doing an autopsy….he's really good at that…"

Gibbs had trouble deciphering the last part. Abby's speech was still slurring and her words were muffled by her talking into the crook of her arm.

Realizing that the lab tech wasn't going to continue her tale, Gibbs turned to Ducky, raising an inquiring eyebrow.

"Well, you will have to excuse her demeanor, Jethro. The young like to go out and have a little fun every once in a while. There is nothing wrong with that. In fact, I was quite the avid partier myself, while I was – "

"The 'cool thing' she discovered, Duck?"

"Of course."

Ducky led him over, to another set of tables and uncovered one of its occupants.

Gibbs stared at the corpse before him. It was the dead body of Major Peter Donaldson, the commanding officer of the Norfolk Naval Base Armory. They had worked closely together, trying to find the people involved in the illegal trading.

He had also been one of their many suspects.

"I am so sorry you were not called to the crime scene." Ducky shook his head. "He was found at the kerbside, early this morning. Naked, I am afraid, so there was really nothing to suggest that NCIS should be notified. Once the police had run his fingerprints, their Medical Examiner handed the body over to me. But still, I had no idea, the poor fellow could be connected to your case, either. It was not until Abigail recognized him – "

"That's because I really liked his photograph, when I ran his prints the first time...great bone structure."

Abby had woken up again. She really did look like hell. She seemed to still be wearing her pajama bottoms (with a seasonal print of vampires building snowmen), her hair was sticking out in weird angles and Gibbs was sure that beneath the smudges of mascara, there were dark circles around her eyes.

"He's still handsome, though. Even as a corpse. I mean…not, that I find him attractive as a corpse. I'm sure some people would. Actually, I know several people, who would, but not me."

Gibbs picked up the untouched Caff Pow! and offered it to the yawning Goth.

Abby looked appalled.

"Gibbs! I can't! I had that one drink last night. I ordered it, because it had Caff Pow! in it...and egg nogg...I think. Actually…I had more than one of those…anyway, now I can't even look at that" – she scowled at the cup Gibbs was holding – "without feeling sick."

With that, she let her head drop back onto her arms, smearing some makeup on her top in the process.

"Donaldson's dead" Gibbs announced, when he entered the bullpen.

Three heads shot up at that revelation.

"Major Donaldson? From Norfolk?"

Gibbs nodded in McGee's direction and started giving out orders.

"McGee, go through the Major's files again. Look for possible murder suspects. Call Washington P.D. for their findings at the crime scene. Ziva, make sure Abby stays awake, while she's doing her tests. DiNozzo, you're with me!"

The ride to the Major's house took them long enough. Like Gibbs had predicted, people lost their ability to drive during that kind of weather.

"I'm just glad it's not rush hour." Tony commented, looking out the window. "Few hours from now and it'd take us twice as long. You know, always look on the bright side of life."

Gibbs spared him a sideways glance, bemused by his Agent's cheerful attitude in the face of an epic traffic jam.

Two hours later, they had almost reached the Major's home. Gibbs called McGee from his cell phone, to inform the rest of the team about their delay.

He put the phone down, just as Tony parked the car.

Together they approached the house, glad that they finally had a reason to search any of their suspects' houses. Even if that reason was the murder of said suspect.

Predictably there was a spare key hidden under an outrageously ugly china turtle. It was the kind of thing his second wife would have bought, Gibbs mused.

Once the door was opened, Gibbs turned left, checking the living room and sent Tony off into the opposite direction. Once he had secured the living room and gotten Tony's shout of "Clear" from the bathroom, he went on to check out the kitchen.

A large steak had been placed on the counter, but apart from that the kitchen was empty as well. Shouting out another "Clear", the lead Agent opened the last remaining door. He was greeted with a steep stairwell. Drawing his gun, Gibbs descended the stairs, to find himself in a small basement. The walls were covered in cardboard boxes, piled up to the ceiling.

Gibbs opened the box nearest to him. He stared at the contents of the box for a moment, then he called for DiNozzo to get the camera. They had found their illegal arms dealer.

Just as he was about to open the next set of boxes, he heard the commotion. First there were Tony's characteristically light steps approaching the kitchen. His were suddenly followed by one, no two sets of much heavier steps.

Somebody yelled, there was the sound of a heavy object connecting with a human skull, the door above him opened and Tony practically flew down the stairs.

A bulky man stood in the doorframe, holding some sort of kitchen utensil. Before Tony even hit the floor, Gibbs had put two bullets right through the guy's heart. The impact of the bullets sent the man stumbling down the stairs and seconds after Tony's head hit the floor with a sickening crack!, his attacker landed on top of him.

The door fell shut and somebody turned the lock.

*****

Wow, this turned out longer than I expected. Next chapter will be up some time next year I think. Merry Christmas everyone and hey, why don't you leave a little christmas present for me and press that little button right below ^^