NOTE: Thanks to my writing savvy wonderful new beta, Lou. An awesome and intelligent beta. Who could ask for more?

The world of the NCIS OSP came to a crashing halt one Thursday morning when their junior agent walked into the Mission wearing only a pair of boyshort underwear and a white tank top… covered in blood.

Before Kensi Blye walked into the office and turned the team on their head the day had been nothing special. Nate was sitting downstairs at Kensi's desk, cradling a cup of coffee and reading a comic book when Eric walked, or skated in.

"If Hetty catches you, you're dead," the psychologist quipped to the younger man, barely glancing up from his comic.

"She has a conference call this morning with some Spanish general. She'll never know," Eric threw back as he strutted in with the posture of a man confident he was breaking the rules and wouldn't be caught doing it. He smirked at Nate and did some sort of move on his roller blades.

"I think you spoke too soon, Eric," Sam said as he and G walked in. He threw a box of doughnuts on the table for the team to snack on.

Eric pivoted, looking for Hetty and tripped over his own skates. He scowled from the floor as he realized Sam was just messing with him. The three men laughed at their computer tech even as Callen walked over and helped the blond off the floor. Once Eric was back on his feet, Callen handed him a chocolate crème doughnut.

"I believe Sam is correct, Mr. Beal. Rollerblades are for outdoors, not for scuffing up my floors." Hetty had the uncanny ability of always being at the right place at the right time, or wrong time depending on who you were. No one was sure how she knew, but the woman had an eerie sixth sense that creeped out even their former SEAL.

"No, Hetty! I'm sorry. Won't happen again. I promise," Eric said, beginning to sweat and looking nervously around for an out.

"Of course you are dearie. And I thank you in advance for your assistance in cleaning out the wardrobe room this weekend. It hasn't been gone through in months." Hetty smirked to herself as she headed in the direction of her office.

Eric, having exchanged his rollerblades for his customary flip-flops, joined the rest of the men at the table. He wore a resigned look at the prospect of spending his weekend clearing out clothes with his boss. Hetty knew the best punishments. He turned his attention back to his teammates and joined in the current conversation. They spent some time joking around and talking about last night's Lakers game. Callen glanced at the clock and noticed that it read 9:35am.

"Hey. Where's Kensi? It's after nine," he asked.

The four men looked at each other, shrugging, not sure where the female agent was this morning. Hetty must have had the same question as she walked out and looked at her team.

"Has anyone heard from Ms. Blye this morning," Hetty asked, with just a trace of worry in her voice. The life she'd lived meant that even small deviations from her agents' usual routines worried her. They meant trouble, and she didn't like trouble.

"She's not sick?" asked Eric, knowing the answer, but feeling the inexplicable need to speak.

"Kensi would die before she called out sick." Realizing his bad choice of words, Nate, always vigilant towards the team's emotional well-being, told a story to keep the team from focusing on Kensi's whereabouts.

In this job, coming in late could mean anything from a one night stand, to a broken alarm clock, to having been kidnapped and tortured. "Don't you remember the time she was running a fever and had spent a week coughing? We couldn't get her to a doctor. Finally, Sam picked her up, threw her over his shoulder, and he and Callen forced her in the car."

"Oh yeah, she kicked me the entire time," Sam said, laughing at the memory of his teammate and his friend.

"We got her to the doctor and found out she had walking pneumonia. She had the audacity to show up to work the next day. I thought Hetty was going to kill her."

"We all got to spend the weekend babysitting Kensi making sure she didn't attempt to escape."

The team smiled at their recollection of the incredibly stubborn Kensi Blye. Never one to show or admit weakness.

They were still chuckling at their recollection when the subject of their discussion walked into OPS. Wearing a vibrant blue pair of boyshorts. No pants. No shoes. A formally white tank top that was now covered in blood. Blood caked her dark, curly hair. She had nothing else on her but a pair of keys in her hands.

Later, when this was all over and they were left to deal with everything that happened, each member of the team would remember something different.

Eric would remember the lack of dress. Kensi, while never prudish, was uncomfortable showing lots of skin. It wasn't that she didn't love or appreciate her body, but as she had once confided to the tech guru not long after she started and was struggling to fit in, she didn't like the team thinking of her as the girl. Men typically wanted to protect females. She wanted to be their equal, wanted them to trust her with their lives. While they did, and could do so while still looking at her as feminine, she was still self-conscious about her gender. The fact that his friend stood before of all of OPS in her underwear is what affected him the most. Something was terribly wrong.

Sam would remember the noise. The silence as the entire building seemed to stop moving. All he could hear at that moment was Kensi's labored breathing. Everyone just stared. His heart broke for this woman who was his sister. He didn't know why, but he knew this moment would change the team. All of a sudden there was a rush of noise as Hetty dismissed the gawkers, actually screaming at them. He remembered the sound of Nate's coffee mug hitting the floor and shattering into tiny shards as its owner bolted and ran towards Kensi. He remembered the gasp that came from Callen, the scared and questioning "Kensi," that slipped out of Eric, and the quiet desperation emanating from Kensi herself.

Hetty would remember that her gut told her something was off. She had been waiting for a phone conference; not with a Spanish general, but rather someone else. The phone call she had been waiting for never came. She would remember how different the team would have been had she only received that phone call. The woman in front of her would not be standing, covered in blood, if that call had come through. Because of that, Hetty turned her energy and anger into clearing out the hall and screaming at the gawkers. The last thing Kensi would want was her team to see her breaking down, let alone random strangers and co-workers.

Nate would remember the frantic effort to find the source of the bleeding. He was a doctor. A psychologist, yes, but he had gone to med school just like any other doctor. He began moving his hands over her body, searching for what had caused so much blood loss. She shouldn't be standing. He found some scratches and bruises, but no openly bleeding wounds. He stared at her blank face, knowing she was going into shock.

Callen would remember looking at her mismatched eyes and seeing desperation and devastation. It was a look that had graced his own face many times. Seeing it on this woman broke his heart.

Kensi would only remember the blood.