Disclaimer: not mine. length: 5,700+ genre: crossover rating: PG13.
Fandoms: newBattlestar Galactica, NCIS.
Set: BSG, post-s3 (vague spoilers, though not all of them); NCIS, s4 ish.
Warnings: language, Kara Thrace/Sam Anders cuteness, snark of some sort, het, murder
Notes: I suppose this can really be blamed on Aella_irene, for her request for "Kara, Sam, Earth, NCIS". I have taken liberties, and there's one bit that I couldn't help but leave in there, despite how, ah, bad it is. Oh well.

Unfortunate Circumstance
by ALC Punk!

She knew what rooms like this were for. Kara Thrace sat in the chair, breathing in and tasting the stench of stale sweat and fear at the back of her tongue. The room was empty, a table and two chairs, a utilitarian mirror across from her. Probably two-way, with the people who'd grabbed her watching her every move for something.

Rooms like this were a dime a dozen, in the colonies. And Kara had been in more than one in her stint with the military. Hell, she'd been in worse--that time on Picon, when she and Helo had been mistaken for a pair of bank robbers, for instance. The officers had kept the two of them in dank rooms, with bright lights, questioning them for over twenty hours, trying to get them to break. If Tigh hadn't missed them when the crew checked back in after their little weekend pass, they might still be there, rotting.

She just hadn't expected to find this sort of thing on Earth. The place was a cross between a dream and a fable, and the reality was bringing it home to her (and Roslin), that their leap of faith might have been nothing but a pipe dream. Cynically, Kara wondered if the survivors still trapped in their ships would ever find a new home, or if they would wander the rest of their lives, rootless.

The door opened, and a silver-haired man stepped in. Kara pegged him as the Agent Gibbs one of the goons had said would be by to question her. He was carrying a file, and Kara almost asked him if it was hers--it would amuse her if he tried to claim that it was, considering she'd only been on Earth for a day and a half (Lee, of course, would probably tell her she could get a record on Earth in only an hour, but he'd be wrong... probably. Sam, of course, would be getting that record right along with her). She wasn't impressed with the way he sat down, fidgeting with the folder, like it would set her on edge.

Not really interested in whatever he would ask, Kara continued absently picking at her cuticles. Leoben had slapped her hands when she'd pick them on New Caprica. Kara really didn't miss him all that much.

"Are you going to tell me what you were doing standing over the body of a dead marine?" Gibbs finally asked, looking up to meet her gaze.

The cold and flinty look wasn't lost on Kara, but she didn't think he'd appreciate being told that Leoben had it down better. "Finding him," she said, her voice clipped. Breaking the silence felt good. She was actually a little surprised at how long she'd stayed silent. Two years ago, she would have been standing on the table, singing arias, or something. Anything to break the silence. Maybe she really had learned something while being dead. Or maybe she'd just grown up.

"We have a witness who says you shot him."

Kara blinked, and then laughed. "I shot him? Oh--" she stopped laughing, seeing the banked anger in the man's eyes. "Oh, that's good. It is. But, uh, I didn't shoot him. He was already dead when I got there."

"You were holding the gun."

"I was afraid someone might try to take a shot at me," and she'd been right, too. The arresting officers had nearly blown her head off.

Gibbs slammed his hand on the table, glaring. "A dead marine isn't a laughing matter."

"No, I suppose it isn't." Kara replied.

On the other side of the glass, Ziva David was standing next to Tony DiNozzo, watching the interrogation. She'd been tasked with interpreting the woman's body language. Ziva wasn't an expert profiler, but she sometimes had a knack for reading people. Tony, on the other hand, was simply watching her body, and both of them were waiting for her to inevitably spill her guts for Gibbs. The man had an uncanny track record, when it came to interrogations.

Sometimes, Ziva wondered if he kept a tally of how many men and women he broke in the confessional atmosphere in the room. Perhaps it was something he notched into his boat, as men were wont to notch such things.

Tony waved a hand, like Houdini with his wand. He was intent on the rhythm of Gibbs' interrogation, knowing how things went. He'd been a member of Gibbs' team for nearly five years. "And now," he started, his voice smug and confident, "Our hot little murderess will spill her guts."

"She is not going to break," Ziva objected, her tone quiet as she watched the woman through the glass.

"How do you know that?"

"I know the type--Gibbs does not scare her." And the woman had broken long before. Ziva recognized that quality, too, but didn't add it to her reason.

Tony had to point something out, as though making some sort of coup. "Gibbs scares you."

"I am not the woman in the interrogation room," replied Ziva. She flashed Tony a sweet smile, "And Gibbs scares you more than he does me."

The woman behind the glass glanced at them, as though she could hear their conversation.

Ziva was right: Gibbs scared Tony--not that Tony would ever admit that aloud. He shifted, "Let's keep watching, as per our orders, Officer David."

Having scored her point, Ziva smirked, eyes never leaving the other side of the glass. "You are the one who spoke first. And I can talk and observe at the same time. Apparently, you can not."

"Who are you?"

Kara blinked, since the question came out of nowhere. He'd been pounding at her about the gun and the dead man. "Captain Kara Thrace." It couldn't hurt for him to know that. They might not believe her when she told them where she came from, but her name wasn't out of the question. In fact, it would be kind of funny to see if their records on Earth included her.

"Captain in the army? Navy?"

Shit. She hadn't thought of that, "It's, ah, more of an honorary joke among friends, y'know?" Colonial Fleet, serial number three-five-five--she could go on, in her head, but it wouldn't matter.

Gibbs made a notation, then got up, "We're done here."

"I didn't think we'd even started," Kara said, her voice sarcastic. She had limits for how much people could push her. Besides, she was bored.

He paused at the door, as though waiting for something. Kara figured he was good at this, that in the normal course of things, she'd be spilling her guts about now. But she hadn't killed that man, and there wasn't anything she could tell him about the person who had--she'd only heard the shot, not seen it.

"Hey, guys--" Timothy McGee stuck his head into the observation room, "Is Gibbs done with our mystery woman?"

"Says her name is Kara Thrace, might wanna run that, Probie," suggested Tony.

"I will, just as soon as one of you tells Gibbs we've got another one like her. Well, another person. This is a guy, not a girl--" McGee broke off, and then continued, "Guy who won't give his name, has no ID. Says he's just looking for his wife, but he walked right into the crime scene while the secondary unit was packing up."

"I am not interrupting him," Ziva objected. She pointed at the room's singular occupant, "But we're in luck, Gibbs is finished with her, for the moment."

On the heels of her statement, Gibbs came into the observation room, looking bland. Ziva figured that was better than him looking frustrated. "You get anything?" he asked them.

"She is holding something back," Ziva confirmed, "But I do not believe you will be able to drag the cat out of the bag."

"Boss, we've got another one, though," interrupted McGee. He quickly filled Gibbs in, almost babbling worse than he had before when Gibbs turned to look at him.

"Where is he?"

"They're holding him in the room down the hall."

"Good. Get on her name, find out where she's from. And tell Abby to hurry up with matching her prints and GSR test results."

"Yes, boss."


"I'll be tracking down anyone else who might have known our marine. I'm on it, now," Tony confirmed, before he could get thrown an assignment.

"Ziva, take the keys Ducky found and check out his apartment. Take someone with you."

She didn't need backup, but she let it slide. Besides, Gibbs had a thing for making them work in pairs when they went into the field, and Jenny--director Shepard had once explained how field agents needed corroborating evidence from their partner when giving testimony.

"I'll see if Agent Lee is available." Ziva replied.

"Well, don't just stand there--"

All of them fled the room for their jobs while Gibbs glared. Obviously, he had not had enough coffee yet that day.

They'd cuffed his hands behind his back after taking his finger-prints. Sam Anders could have resisted, and probably gotten away, but he didn't think being a fugitive would work out real well here on Earth. The admiral and the president would be displeased if this was how first contact went. Still, he was worried about Kara. She'd been in front of him when they'd heard the shots. They'd split up without a word, assuming the shots were aimed at them. Sam figured their paranoia had now come back to bite them on the ass.

He wasn't comfortable in his chair, but he was bored. Luckily, the door opened before he could get truly annoyed and a man walked in. Sam straightened, recognizing the same unconscious authority Adama wore. Agent Gibbs, probably. Given the short conversation he'd overheard between the man's flunkies, he was probably supposed to be scared now.

"What were you doing walking into a live crime scene?"

"Looking for my wife," Sam replied, knowing that was the truth.

"Your wife have a habit of playing with dead bodies?" The man sounded like he didn't believe a word Sam was saying.

And maybe he didn't. Sam ignored the provocation of Gibbs' rhetorical question and said, "Is there a reason I'm being held, other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

Sam hadn't expected to walk into something as formal as a crime scene. Three years of being on the run from the Cylons had left their justice system a little more slap-dash. Besides, Caprican crime scene units used blue tape and had guards posted at the periphery. He'd walked right through. He was also so used to the stench of death that it hadn't occured to him that the area was off-limits or out of the ordinary. He really needed to start going to better parties. Preferably ones that didn't include Cylons.

"You tell me. Why were you looking for her there?"

"We got separated earlier, I was just starting to look for her when the second person I asked said they'd seen her headed that way."

"Your wife get lost easily?"

"Look, we're both new here," were they frakking ever new here, "and I'm afraid she's not exactly used to a big city like this."

"Where you from?"

A question Sam couldn't answer. He decided to go on the offensive a little, "Look, why am I being interrogated, with my hands shackled?"

Gibbs glared at him before he replied, "You got a name to go with that ego?"

Reminded way too much of an old coach of his, Sam shrugged as well as he could. "Name's Sam Anders," not that it would do him any good. Sam had the feeling there were no databases containing his name. Or Kara's, either, but unless the man asked, he wasn't volunteering hers.

Gibbs was trying to look intimidating. Sam might once have been at least scared that he would shoot him if he didn't get what he wanted. But Sam had been married to Kara Thrace for nearly two years, and fighting the Cylons for four. Only President Roslin scared him, at this point.

"And your wife?"

"Kara Thrace."

The man didn't do a damned thing in reaction, but Sam knew. Knew, like he used to know when the other team was about to make a break to play an offensive that would get through. He'd seen Kara, maybe even had her. Sam didn't move a muscle as he stared back at him.

"Got any pictures? Maybe we can help you locate her."

"Nah." Sam shook his head. He knew where one picture of Kara was, and damned if he was going to take it off the frakking memorial wall. "I can describe her, though."

A picture was tossed at him, skidding slightly on the slick surface of the table. Sam eyed the dead man on it, as Gibbs asked crisply, "Do you know this man?"


"Take a good look."

Sam did, but he shook his head, "I'm sorry, but I've never seen him before."

It seemed to be the wrong answer as Gibbs stood up, heading for the door, his body language angry. "Think about it while I get myself some coffee. You want any?"

Coffee was a gesture of something. Possibly coercion. Sam didn't want to be extra paranoid, but for all he knew, they'd drug him. Shit, he wondered what the Earth justice system was like, although he was getting the impression it wasn't all that different from Caprica's. "No thank you. Could I have some water?" he asked.

"I'll have some sent in." Gibbs said, his tone short as he left.

Sam had the sudden thought that maybe the man wasn't normally that annoyed. Maybe he'd encountered Kara. She did tend to bring the worst out of people.

"McGee?" Gibbs demanded, striding into the bullpen.

"Nothing, boss. No hits on Kara Thrace." The youngest member of the team replied. He looked earnestly at Gibbs, "I took the liberty of grabbing facial shots from both interview rooms and I'm running them now, but that could take a while. And if you have his name, I can start--"

Gibbs threw a balled-up piece of paper at him. "Start."

"Right, boss."

"How long?"

"How--oh, the facial recognition? Uh, maybe a day? Two?" McGee hedged. More like a week, possibly a month. He wasn't running them against any sort of international database yet. Just the local, FBI one. And maybe a CIA or NSA cache he might have found.

"See if you can't make it go faster," Gibbs turned to fire his next round at Tony. "DiNozzo--"

"I think I may have found someone who had a better motive for killing our marine than the blonde hottie, boss," Tony replied from behind his computer. "Petty Officer Cartwright was receiving large sums of money at regular intervals, and they weren't the sort of thing he was reporting to the IRS, if you know what I mean."

"Blackmail? Anything to back it up?"

"Nothing yet, boss, but Ziva said his hard drive had been wiped clean before they got there. She's having Lee take it down to Abby now."

"McGee, track down where the money was coming from. Hack his bank accounts if you have to."

"On it, boss." A little illegal hacking never hurt anyone. Besides, that was totally why back doors were created in security systems. Tim had to tell himself things like that, otherwise he had strange nightmares about Steve Jobs stealing his clothes and leaving him naked on a tropical island with a Windows box that only had ME on it.

"I'm going to see Ducky."

Kara had gotten bored with her chair and moved to the floor, stretching out on her back. She'd counted the ceiling tiles twice before giving up and trying to sleep.

When that failed, she got up and moved to the glass mirror, poking at it and wondering if she'd be able to tell if there was anyone on the other side. She shrugged at the thought, decided it didn't matter, and moved to the door. It was locked.

Kneeling, Kara studied the lock, finding it pretty standard, as door locks went. She grumbled about stupid Earth customs that required them to lock up visiting officials (not that she was an official, she was supposed to be on a quiet recce...) before pulling a piece of wire from her boot. It took three minutes to pick the lock, and she wondered if her skills were getting lax. Listening, she hoped there was no one in the hall before she opened the door.

With a pleased sound, she stepped out and pulled it closed behind her.

Wire in hand, she considered her options before checking the room that observed her cell. There was no one there, though the equipment she saw seemed similar to the stuff D'Anna Biers and her team had used when they were annoying her on Galactica. Kara started checking every door off the hallway, trying to find a way out. The fourth door let into another observation room, and Kara was shocked to see Sam sitting on the other side of the glass.

It took her way less time to pick his lock, and Kara pulled open the door, asking, "Miss me, baby?"

Sam looked at her and half-laughed, "I should've known you got yourself arrested."

"Not arrested. Held for questioning. At least, that's what they said when I asked where the frak I was going," Kara patted his shoulder and eyed the cuffs, "Huh. Those look kinda good on you."

He tipped his head back, "Are you going to admire my handcuffs or let me go?"

"Can't I do both?" Kara purred in answer before she knelt and got to work on the lock. It sprang open quickly, and she helped Sam out of them. Deciding they might come in handy later, she shoved them in her pocket before getting back to her feet.

Standing, he rubbed his wrists, wincing, "How come they didn't cuff you?"

"I look cute and innocent."

"You got one of those right," Sam noted. He moved to look out the door, then glanced back at her, "Ready to leave?"

"Very." Kara breathed from behind him.

"Good thing I remember the way, huh?"

"Stop showing off and move."

"Our young petty officer was shot three times in the chest at point-blank range, Jethro," their resident medical examiner, Dr. 'Ducky' Mallard informed Gibbs, once Gibbs had interrupted his reminiscence about a case he'd once worked in Aberdeen. "I've sent them up to Abby, of course, but I imagine they'll match the weapon you've already got in custody."

"Thanks, Duck--"

"Jethro, wait," Ducky said, his words pausing Gibbs as he neared the door. "There's something else. Our young man had recently had sex."

"I'll keep that in mind." His brain turned to the young woman they'd arrested. He wondered how the swabs they'd taken had come back: if she showed GSR on her, she was their girl. Maybe it had been more of a lovers' quarrel, and the blackmail had nothing to do with the end result.

He stopped in Abby Sciutto's lab, "Tell me you have something, Abbs." There were times when they only solved a case because of the forensics evidence Abby unearthed.

With her love of caffeine and cheerful grin, Abby was far outside the norm of what one would expect of the classic goth type. But then, Gibbs prided all of his people on rising above their idiocy. "Gibbs! I'm working as hard as I can, but I've got--"

He cut her off, "Do you have something?"

"Our blackmailer wasn't very sneaky. He was sending his demands using his Navy email account. I downloaded the bulk of it from backups on the Navy servers." Abby typed away on one of the many keyboards that littered her workspace. She then moved quickly to point at a box which popped up on the larger screen, "As you can see, the person he was writing to is a little less obvious."

Gibbs couldn't decipher the mix of letters and numbers, and gave up, "Abby."

"I'm working on tracking down her real name, Gibbs. But for the record? After seeing the things he was saying to her, I'm kind of glad our mystery woman shot him. Not that she killed him, of course, but he needed to be shot, Gibbs." Abby amended.

"We don't know that she did. Have the results come back on the GSR test?"

"Yes, and they were mostly negative. Whoever she is, she's shot a gun in the last few days, but probably not within the last day."

"And the other?"

"He's shot a gun a little more recently, I'd say. The amount of powder is consistent with sometime today, though it could have been this afternoon. Was he wearing a jacket at all?"

"Nope, no sleeves at all."

Abby frowned, "Hrmph, that could account for the lower amount--if the jacket absorbed most of the blow back, and he dumped it."

"So, I need to ask him where his jacket is," said Gibbs. Though given their previous encounter, he doubted the man would be able to give him much. Whether he was hiding something or not, Gibbs hadn't been able to get much of a read on the guy. Other than that he was mostly honest, and was a little worried about his wife. He left Abby to run more tests and headed back to the bullpen. Maybe DiNozzo had found something by now.

As unlikely as that could be.

"Are you sure this is the way you came?" Kara hissed from behind Sam.

He rolled his eyes, and whispered back, "Yes, I'm sure. I recognize the desks." Having checked, he could see at least three people in the room they needed to go through. The two men had been his escorts, earlier. And he was pretty sure they would notice if he and Kara just casually walked through. In most cases, you could pretend you owned the place and no one would notice (that tactic had worked far too well more times than he cared to count, when he'd faced off against the Cylons). These people, though, they would notice. And Sam wasn't exactly keen on returning to that interrogation room.

Aside from the fact that he and Kara were probably causing some sort of interstellar incident, there was the fact that he just plain didn't like being locked up.

"Sam," Kara poked him, "Hurry up and think of a plan."

"You think of one," he shot back.

"I fly planes, Sammy, I don't think up strategies."

"Not what I heard."

"Lee lies like a dog," she hissed.

"Actually, I was reading the after-action report that Admiral Adama wrote up," Sam retorted.

"Excuse me, can I help you?"

Sam jerked and turned to look at the woman who'd caught them. She was about Kara's height, with short red hair and a look that told him anything he said would be considered a lie. "Uh, hi, we're kind of lost."

"Lost?" She didn't even have to raise her eyebrows to give the firm impression of disbelief. Raising her voice, she called, "Jethro, these two think they're lost. Now, is that true?"

Behind them came the somewhat annoyed voice of agent Gibbs. Either he was pissed at the woman for calling him by his given name, or because Sam and Kara were out of their respective cells. "No. Now how the hell did you two get out?"

Kara grinned cheerfully at him, "Luck?" She could be cheerful, Sam decided, he was between her and Gibbs. If the man decided to shoot at them, he'd go down first.

"I don't believe in luck. DiNozzo! McGee!"

"Jethro." The woman looked at him, then smiled at Sam and Kara, "I'm director Shepard. Is there a problem here?"

"No problem--" Gibbs started to say.

"Yes, boss?" The two men joined them, totally negating any need for Sam to come up with a plan to sneak past them.

He swore internally, but kept his stance loose, waiting to see what would come next. These people hadn't exactly harmed them, but they had locked them up. And even if director Shepard looked like she might be on their side--at least, she hadn't pointed a gun at them. Though Sam had the feeling she might be the most dangerous person in the hallway.

"Did you search our two guests before putting them in interrogation?"

"Uh..." DiNozzo leered at Kara, "I did, boss."

McGee looked confused, "I assumed he'd already been searched, boss."

"McGee, what does assuming do?" Gibbs demanded, looking cranky.

"I know this one," Kara piped up. "It's kinda like assuming, because I'm the one holding the gun, that I shot someone."

Sam tried not to laugh at that, since, in his experience, if Kara had a gun, she'd probably shot someone or something. "Kara, why did you pick up a gun?" Not that he was surprised by that. Kara picking up guns was almost as natural as Kara shooting Cylons from her cockpit.

Glancing up at him, she shook her head, "Sammy, if you have to ask that, I'm gonna lose faith in you."

"That's enough. McGee, DiNozzo, separate them, get them back in their rooms and search them for lock picks. NOW."

"Gibbs! Gibbs!" Abby burst onto the scene, then stopped as she spotted Sam and Kara, "Whoa." Tilting her head, she moved closer, staring at Sam's right arm. "That is an awesome tattoo. Where did you get that done?"

Several trillion billion light years from where they were right then, Sam thought. He considered saying that, but didn't think that would go over so well. "I was drunk, I'm not sure I remember."

"You whined like a bitch, too," Kara informed him cheerfully. "And no matter what you say, mine took longer than yours."

It was an old argument, and one that Sam figured they'd still be having when they were old and gray. Opening his mouth to reply, he noticed that Shepard was simply standing there, watching them all with interested eyes. Either she worked in a very boring office, or he and Kara were far more entertaining than he'd thought. And they weren't even drunk.

"Wait, you have one, too?" Abby demanded of Kara, "Can I see?"

"Abby!" Gibbs snapped, "These two are--"

"Innocent. Yes, I know, Gibbs."

Kara shrugged out of her sweatshirt, displaying her arm for Abby.

"Oh, sweet--these are--" Abby stared at them, eyes darting between the two designs before she clapped, "Oh my god! These are so awesome. I have got to see them together."

"Uh, Abby--"

"Not now, Tony. Please?"

Sam chuckled and turned Kara so she was facing him. When Kara had first proposed the idea of the tattoos, he'd thought she was drunk. He'd been right, but she'd also been perfectly serious. She stepped into him, sliding into his arms like she was supposed to be there. "Hi."

"You're enjoying this way too much, Sammy." Kara informed him, crossing their arms and shifting to get it right.

It wasn't exactly like clicking into place, but they'd checked out the design in mirrors enough to know when it meshed correctly. And Sam wasn't about to deny that he was enjoying holding his wife. He tried not to lie to her, even if he sometimes lied to himself.

"ABBY!" Gibbs finally succeeded in getting her attention. "Now that you've finished monopolizing our guests--"

"Right!" Abby spun away from admiring the black ink on Kara and Sam's arms. "I tracked down our blackmailee, and her name is Melissa Ross."

"Wait--" started DiNozzo.

Gibbs smacked the back of his head, "Put these two in a room, then go get her. Now."

A snicker escaped Kara, "Gee, Sam, whatever are we gonna do in a room?"

"Separate them," suggested director Shepard, her tone calm.

That, decided Sam as he and Kara were led to different rooms, was really adding insult to injury. He sighed, and held still as the younger field agent searched him. McGee found nothing, of course.

Neither did DiNozzo, especially after Kara kneed him for groping her.

Melissa Ross was sitting where Kara Thrace had been three hours before. Ziva watched her through the glass, noting the way her hands fidgeted ever so slightly. This was a woman who would break. Ziva felt sorry for thinking it, but she imagined that even Tony could break her. She was on edge, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. The contrast to Thrace couldn't have been more striking. Especially when Gibbs stepped in and the girl actually flinched.

"I can't believe our witness was the shooter," muttered Tony, "She seemed like such a nice girl."

"She must have dropped the gun and turned to go when Thrace walked onto the scene," Ziva mused.

"And it gave her the perfect alibi." Shifting, as though his groin were still paining him, Tony huffed out a breath, "I'm not clear as to why Thrace picked up the gun, though."

"Abby says she appears to have gun-shot residue that is several days old. Perhaps she shoots them, on occasion." Some people did, after all, find shooting at targets relaxing. Not that Ziva would ever admit such a thing to Tony. Though she generally preferred jogging to shooting, but sometimes, beggars couldn't be choosers.

Inside the interrogation room, the young woman suddenly broke down into tears, her voice nearly indistinguishable as she admitted that the Petty Officer had been bleeding her dry, and she'd seen no end in sight.

"Y'know, I almost feel sorry for her."

"She shot and killed a man, after having sex with him, Tony." pointed out Ziva, her tone harsh. She had little love for anyone who betrayed someone who trusted them. Though she knew that a blackmailer had probably not trusted his victim in quite the same way.

"Yeah, but she's so obviously at her wit's end. It's just sad, Ziva." Tony gave her a strange look, "You should try a little compassion for your fellow man, one of these days."

"I will, when my fellow man isn't killing innocent people in the streets."

"The Petty Officer was far from innocent."

Ziva tsked, the sound glottal as it escaped. "Semantics."

"You know," Sam said as Kara wandered into the room he'd been put into, "We have got to stop meeting like this."

Kara snickered and came over to lean against the table and leer at him. "Think they're watching?"

"Probably." Sam settled his hands on her waist and pulled her onto his lap with a sigh.

"Do you care?" she teased, kissing his neck.

"Yeah." He admitted.

A sigh escaped her as she leaned against him. "Yeah. So do I."

"We could leave." Sam suggested, holding her lightly, wondering when she'd get tired of their proximity and pull away.

"They'd catch us again," Kara groused. She shoved at the table, moving it slightly, then brightened, "We could move the table, you know."

A laugh escaped Sam, "I had no idea you were so hard up, baby."

Kara elbowed him, making him wince. "I'm not. But I'm tired, and I'm not taking a nap where anyone can shoot me."

McGee was finishing up his notes when Tony threw a spitball at him. He knocked it off of his keyboard and glared across the room, "Tony--"

"Hey, just keepin' you on your toes, McGee."

"Oh, so adult," Ziva mocked from her desk.

"Hey!" Glaring at them all, Gibbs laid down the law, "Finish your reports."

"Oh, hey, boss. What do you want me to do about Anders and Thrace?" McGee asked. He had several pages of notes on them, and absolutely no clue where to file them. The two had no identities, as far as he could find.

"Are they still here?"

Ziva nodded, "Unless they succeeded in escaping again, but Tony assured me he searched Thrace very well, this time."

"Maybe you should've let 'em go?"

"Uh... we were waiting for you to tell us to, boss," Tony said.

Gibbs stared at them for a moment, then got up and headed back to the hallway. The others followed him, if only because watching Gibbs apologize for detaining innocent people would be entertaining. If he apologized. McGee kinda doubted he would. He'd probably make director Shepard do it.

There was no one in Kara Thrace's room. Tony raised his hands, "I swear, boss, I searched her."

"Not well enough, apparently," Gibbs muttered, leading the way to the observation room attached to the second room.

They could see through the glass that someone had figured out how to unscrew the light bulbs, save one. The table had been turned on its side, and behind it, Anders was leaning in the corner, Thrace curled against his chest. They appeared to be asleep.

"Do you think we should wake them?" Tony mused. "They're kinda cute like that."

"Like puppies," agreed Ziva.

Gibbs smacked them both on the back of the head, "Get 'em up and out of here, and apologize to them for detaining them this long. And Tony, don't try groping her again." He added as he stalked from the room.

"Yes, boss," Tony replied, rubbing the back of his head.

Ziva glared at him, before turning and heading out into the corridor. She knocked on the door.

"Why knock?"

"It is polite."

McGee was still in the observation room, a little fascinated by the tangle of Thrace and Anders. At Ziva's knock, they both jerked awake. Then they were moving, scrambling to their feet and falling into combat stances before Anders shook his head and reached out to touch Thrace's shoulder. She relaxed as the door opened to admit Ziva and Tony.

Wondering a little at their instinctive responses, McGee checked the recording equipment over, then decided to send himself a copy of the tape. If nothing else, it could be interesting to see if they'd done more than cuddle. Not that he was a voyeur or anything. But Tony was right about one thing. Thrace was hot.