A/N: In wake of the news of Cote de Pablo's departure, something which might tie together that with the ending scene from last season. Inspired by the scene in The Crow.

Fornell pulled the hammer back on his weapon. As the gun clicked, confirming it had been cocked and was primed to go, he let out a deep breath.

How could it have come to this?

He couldn't worry about that now. He had a job to do and he damn well wasn't go to fail it.

"Sacks?"

"Sir?" His agent saddled up to him, weapon out and also ready to go.

"Guard the entrance."

"Sir?" The man's voice was confused. So were his eyes, staring back at his boss. "We already have agents posted at every-"

"Not going to repeat myself, Sacks." Fornell's voice was strained and irritable. "This isn't the time for it. We need to make sure the suspect has no way out of that alleyway. Understood?"

"Sir," Sacks persisted, and Fornell silently cursed himself for passing off his own attitude onto his agent. "I can't just let you go in there all by yourself."

"You can and you will," Fornell snapped. "Or you'll be out a job faster than you can blink."

Sacks straightened up."With all due respect sir, I don't give a damn about that," he said firmly, standing his ground. "The rules of engagement-"

"Screw the rules. They went out the window the moment this whole sorry mess began." Fornell raised his pistol. "You either cover the the alley or you hit the road. But if you do that, don't bother coming back. Ever." With that he began walking away towards the alley.

"Sir?" Fornell stopped and looked at Sacks. The younger agent had a different look on his face, one he couldn't quite place. "It is a real mess, isn't it?"

Fornell gave another sigh. "More than you know."

He began the long walk down the alley. The warm summer night was already more than he was used to. The inky black sky was filled with bright stars twinkling over the tall, lit buildings of Houston, but they did little to comfort him.

He reached the end of the alley and approached the L-shaped turn cautiously. Passing his weapon around the corner, he saw a large dumpster along the far side of the wall illuminated faintly by the light high up above.

Then he spotted him – sitting next to the dumpster on a stack of wooden crates. Sitting there, calmly, not a care in the world, legs crossed, an almost serene look on his face. The dim light prevented him from seeing his face clearly, but it was him. His hair was longer and tussled and his clean cut face was now scruffy; neither of those, nor the heavy overcoat he wore could fully disguise him.

Fornell aimed his weapon directly at the man. "FBI! Let me see your hands!"

The man didn't seem surprised at all, nor intimidated by the fact that a loaded gun was now being pointed right at his head. His lips curled. "I thought it was the police who always said that."

"Don't play games with me. I know who you are."

"Do you?" The man cocked his head sideways. "You know only what I allowed you to know. That's to say, nothing whatsoever."

Fornell kept his gun unwavering. "I want to see... your... hands!"

The man smirked and slowly raised them to chest level, palms facing upward, open just enough to show there were no weapons in either of them.

The FBI agent fixed him with an unblinking stare. He had only question for him, one thing he wanted to know. "Why?"

The man feigned confusion. "Why? Why what?"

"Why do it?" Fornell's voice was calm and even, thanks in no part to his inner turmoil. "What makes a man turn on his own so easily? Fifteen FBI agents in Virginia - dead. Six in New York. Eight in Alabama. Three in Texas. I want to know what made you do that."

The man's lips curled again, this time much bigger. "Oh, that's just the beginning."

"What are you talking about?"

"You ever hear of a man named Gibbs? He had a beautiful colleague who shouldn't have played with knives." He slowly opened up his right hand. "Like my new bracelet?"

Fornell felt a surge of bile rise up his throat. Dangling from the man's wrist, he could see a flash of gold. In the dim light, he could just make out the necklace attached to the tiny Star of David – soaked red in blood.

"You..." Fornell said slowly. "You killed that NCIS agent. You were the one who..."

"Yes. And quite a good job I did on her too, don't you think?"

Fornell struggled to keep his emotions in check. "Who the hell are you? Where'd you come from? What's your real name?"

"You wouldn't recognize it. And it is irrelevant. My job is done."

"And that is?"

"To set things in motion. To lay the groundwork for your own demise." His eyes flashed with malice. "You're all dead. You just don't know it yet."

"Why?" Fornell growled. "Tell me why you're doing this!"

"It doesn't matter."

"The hell it doesn't!"

"If you were really that smart you'd already know – I'm not the one making the decisions. I just carry them out. It's my actions and someone else's words."

"Who?"

The man smirked. "You'll have to work that out yourself. Maybe you'll be surprised. Maybe..." he paused for a moment. "Maybe she did it to herself."

"You're cracked."

"No, Agent Fornell. The whole damn system is cracked. I'm just fixing it – one crack at a time."

Fornell saw the glint in the man's opposite hand. He saw the knife come up just as the man rose up towards him. The FBI agent didn't hesitate and put three slugs into the man's chest. He went flying backwards against the wall, landing on his back; he gave one final gasp of air and then lay still.

Fornell slowly lowered his gun and stood still, staring at the body. He only reacted when he heard the sound of footsteps run up beside.

"Sir!" Sacks burst on to the scene, weapon in hand.

Fornell looked at him warily. "Thought I told you to stay put."

"Are you alright?"

Fornell waved him off. "Fine, fine. Better than the other guy."

Sacks looked over to the motionless form by the dumpster. "Is he..."

"Yeah." Fornell breathed heavily. "And it's him, no question about it."

The two men stood silent for a moment. Then Sacks noticed a tiny glint on the ground. "Sir? What's this?" He went over to the object.

"Hold on, Sacks." Fornell walked over to where his agent was standing and bent down. Pausing for a moment, he reached down and took hold of it.

"Uh, are you sure you should be doing that?" Sacks asked. "What about the evidence?"

Fornell's mouth formed a thin line. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"What do you -" Sacks cut himself off when he saw the object in his boss' hand. The mixture of gold and red caught him off guard for a moment. "Is that...?" He whispered.

"Yeah." Fornell nodded heavily. "It's hers."

"That's good news, isn't it? We can tell Gibbs that-"

"We'll tell Gibbs nothing."

Sacks blinked. "Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"But why?"

"What are we gonna say, Sacks?" Fornell fixed his young agent with a serious look.

"The truth, of course."

"The truth..." Fornell stared off into the distance for a moment. "What is the truth?"

"I don't understand."

"What truth are we gonna give him, Sacks?" This time Fornell's stared at his agent directly. "The truth that a man managed to pass himself off as a good, decent FBI agent – right under my command? The truth that he was able to get the names and locations of all agents we have stationed everywhere in the country? That he was able to kill thirty-two of them before I finally caught on? How about the truth that I didn't know until two minutes ago that this same man was responsible for the death of an eight year NCIS agent under Gibbs' command? Is that what I'm supposed to tell him, Sacks? Huh?"

Sacks seemed taken aback by his superior's outburst. He was silent for a minute, eyes moving all over the place. Finally, he said slowly, "So what are we going to do?"

Fornell's mouth tightened. "We aren't going to do anything?"

"But-"

"You are going to say exactly what happened up until the moment you saw me bend over and pick that up off the ground. You were standing guard outside the alley, making sure the suspect wanted for the murder of more than two dozen federal agents did not get away. You heard the gunshots, you came into the alley and you saw that the threat had been neutralized. What you did not do was see your superior find the stolen property of a slain naval agent near the body – the body of the man who reported directly to said superior."

It took Sacks a minute to process this information. When he did, he looked thunderstruck. "Sir, you can't possibly mean..."

Fornell nodded grimly. "I do."

"But why? Why not just explain what happened?"

"It's not that easy."

"Yes, it is!" Sacks practically shouted. "It's that easy!"

"Watch your tone, Sacks."

Sacks ignored the remark. "Is this a matter of pride, sir? Is that what this is?"

"You think this is gonna be easy for me?" Fornell all but snapped. "I'm all but throwing away any friendly relationship I have with Gibbs away for the rest of both our lives. Probably throwing away a good chuck of my entire life, whatever's left of it. So yes, I'm perfectly aware of the consequences of my actions!"

There was silence for a few moments. The two men stood, listening to the distant sounds of traffic under the Texas sky.

"You know Gibbs isn't going to just let this go," Sacks said quietly.

Fornell sighed. "Yeah. I know. But..." He looked down at the Star of David in his hand. "It'll just have to be." He turned back to Sacks. "Go ahead and call it in. I'll wait here. Don't think I can screw up the scene any more than I already have."

Sacks didn't laugh at the attempt at a joke. He turned to leave the alley, stopped and turned back to his boss. "He'll come after you, you know. They all will. Gibbs, DiNozzo, McGee – all of them."

Fornell managed to twist his mouth into something resembling a smile. "Well, look on the bright side. If Gibbs gets to me first, I probably won't see it coming."

Sacks merely shook his head. "You were right, sir. This is a real mess."

As he walked away, Fornell looked up at the sky and let out another sigh. "No," he murmured. "It's a goddamn nightmare."