[A/N] Hey there. Okay, this idea just popped into my head the other day. These are probably my two favourite stories right now, so this idea just came naturally. Give it a shot, see how you like it :)

This is set after SK, but Dimitri was never turned...so the time frame is the same as when SK ends. The NCIS part is set after S703 - Inside Man. I just loved the ending of that episode so I decided to base it after that.

Enjoy:

She snuck around the side of the ship, sheathed in darkness. The long silver knife hung on her waist. The wind whistled through her long hair, drawing attention to herself.

She scampered up the short ladder, trying to avoid detection. On the upper deck, she paused and surveyed her surroundings. Perfect. Her target was just coming into view, strolling out of a room below, slightly drunk. Her eyes zeroed in on the nearly-empty beer bottle in his hand. Probably not his first.

Making sure he was alone, she jumped stealthily off the deck. The man's eyes widened as she approached, and a sloppy grin crossed his face. She grimaced. Of course he'd notice her looks. She hadn't bothered to hide her looks. It wasn't necessary.

She drew the knife from her black belt. The man clumsily staggered back as she approached. She slapped a hand over his mouth, warning him with her eyes not to scream. He sagged in defeat. Unluckily for him, there was a party going on. They wouldn't hear a thing.

She admired the wicked gleam of the blade in the moonlight. Faint crimson stains ghostly covered the blade, showing the work of its past. She stepped behind him, keeping her hand over his mouth, placing the edge of the knife at his neck. Without pausing to think, she sliced his throat. His muscles tightened with the scream that wouldn't come.

As she watched the body thud to the ground, she stared with horror at what she had just done. Letting the blade clatter to the floor, she shoved her ungloved hands into her pockets and quickly walked away.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, diving off the side of the ship.

Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs sat in his basement, sanding the skeleton of a boat that sat on his table. The dim golden light reflected on the unfinished boat, causing the pieces of wood to glow like golden whale bones.

He sipped his Starbucks, sighing in content. He had signed the papers yesterday that deemed ex-Mossad officer Ziva David one of his team, an NCIS Special Agent. He grinned at the thought that she was legally a part of the team.

His phone buzzed on his table. He sighed and reached for it. Could he not receive some peace in his basement? Especially after their previous case – there had been a lot of drama with that one.

He flipped the phone open lazily. There was a missed call from an unknown number. He frowned, puzzled. Who would have his number? He wasn't one to post it publicly, and the few that had his number were ones that he had as well.

He couldn't be bothered to go to the NCIS base and trace the call, so he did what any curious person would do. He called the number back.

"Hello?" asked a frantic voice. Gibbs' frown deepened.

"Yes," he answered. "This is NCIS Special Agent Gibbs. How may I help y–"

He was cut off by a relieved shriek. "Special Agent Gibbs! Thank god!"

"Who is this?" he asked. What did this person need him for?

"Lieutenant Marshall aboard the Mary-Anne. Agent Gibbs, there's been a murder on our boat."

Gibbs sighed. Not another case? "We'll be there," he said, hanging up. He grabbed his car-keys and headed to base, annoyed.

"So, what were you doing last night, McGee?" asked Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo Junior, typing aimlessly on his computer. He was so bored with nothing to do. Work was always like this, he decided. Unless there was a case, it was utterly boring. Of course, annoying the hell out of McGee was a good pastime.

Special Agent Timothy McGee sighed. He would have retaken his polygraph test, but since Gibbs told him not to, he had gone home, watched some TV, had a light dinner and gone to bed. Oh, and he'd read up on which computer was the most popular these days. But he wasn't going to tell Tony any of this. He didn't need any new material.

"Nothing interesting," he said vaguely, trying to dodge the question.

Just then, Ziva walked into the room. Tony noticed the slightly different badge on Ziva's belt. "Ziva," he asked, curiosity coloring his voice, "what is that?" It couldn't be what he thought it was.

"What is what?" asked Ziva. Tony noticed that she seemed slightly happier than usual.

"That badge," said Tony. "You didn't steal it, did you?"

She laughed. "Gibbs signed the papers yesterday. I am now an official NCIS Special Agent." She smiled, happy to finally feel a part of the team. No one could take that away from her now.

Forensic specialist Abigail Sciuto stepped out of the lift. "Did I hear correctly, Ziva?" she asked, grinning. "Are you now one of us?"

"Yes," said Ziva.

Abby squealed and tackled her teammate. "I'm so happy for you," she shrieked, hugging her tightly. Ziva smiled at the younger girl's easy acceptance.

McGee looked up from his desk. "Yeah, congratulations Ziva." He grinned.

Gibbs had been listening to this whole exchange. He loved the easy way his team interacted with each other. They were like one happy family, really. They helped Gibbs deal with his loss.

He stepped into the midst of them all. "Hate to break up this happy gathering –"

"No you don't," mumbled Tony. Gibbs smacked the back of his head.

"I deserved that," he said, wincing. Gibbs nodded.

"– but we have a case," he continued, looking at them all. "Grab your gear and let's go."

Gibbs left as swiftly as he'd come.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" asked Ziva, grabbing her NCIS suit. McGee and Tony followed suit.

The team walked into the elevator after their boss.

Flash. McGee shielded his eyes with his hand as Tony grinned, pointing the camera at him. "Can you not, Tony? We're in the middle of a case," he protested.

"You look good, McGee," Ziva observed, checking the photo over Tony's shoulder. "The sunlight reflects nicely on your hair."

Tony and McGee shared a glance. "Um thanks, Ziva," said McGee awkwardly, taking a photo of the abandoned knife. Why someone would leave behind evidence was anyone's guess. Perhaps they panicked? Perhaps it was a first murder?

Doctor Donald Mallard and his assistant Jim Palmer crouched beside the body. Ducky was busy estimating the TOD, with Jimmy watching intently. "Got a time yet, Doc?" he asked jokingly.

Ducky raised his head. "Patience, Mr. Palmer, and all will be revealed," he said, as the instrument in his hand gave a little beep.

"Ah-ha," he said, raising it. "According to this, the time of death was approximately eleven hours ago," he said surely. Jimmy nodded and left to inform Ziva, McGee and Tony.

Gibbs crouched beside Ducky. "11 hours, huh Duck?" he asked. Ducky nodded.

"I was speaking with the other occupants of this ship," informed Gibbs. "They said they couldn't hear a thing outside because they had a party going on."

Ducky looked at the man sympathetically. "And that party cost this poor man his life," he said sadly, staring at the face contorted into an expression of horror. The blood had run from his throat, coloring his uniform.

A distraught woman ran toward the team. Her face was tear-streaked and she looked rather disheveled.

"Can we help you?" asked Tony, eyeing the woman up and down. He caught Ziva staring at him disapprovingly and he grinned.

A fresh wave of tears cascaded down her pale cheeks. "Oh, just f-find his killer for me!" she sobbed. "I d-don't want his killer out-out there."

McGee looked at the woman kindly. "We'll do our best," he assured her.

"Th-thank you," she said weakly, wiping her eyes and running back inside.

"We better be getting back," said Gibbs' gruff voice from behind them. "Abbs'll want to see what we've got, and Ducky wants to do his autopsy."

Ducky stared at the DNA results in front of him, puzzled. It couldn't be right. This was impossible. It went against the very laws of nature. A creature like this shouldn't exist.

"Everything alright, Doctor?" asked Jimmy, removing his autopsy gloves and washing his hands. The case had been exactly how it had looked. Nothing too dramatic.

"Yes yes, Mr. Palmer. I'm alright. Would you mind fetching Jethro for me?" he asked, unable to look away from the results in front of him. "I have a feeling he will want to know what we have found out."

He vaguely heard the door creak as Jimmy stepped away. Two sets of footsteps returned shortly after. Jimmy, followed by Gibbs, entered swiftly, Gibbs striding over to the autopsy table where Ducky was currently at.

"Duck? What've you got?" asked Gibbs bluntly.

Ducky finally looked away from the white piece of paper and ran his finger over the scratch on the throat. "The cause of death was quite simple, Jethro. Running the knife along the throat slices the carotid artery and the windpipe, and the victim dies either of lack of oxygen or loss of blood."

Gibbs nodded. "Thanks Duck." He made to leave but Ducky stopped him.

"However, that's not why I called you here. You see, these results are rather strange. The all seem to point in one direction, but that would be impossible."

Gibbs grunted impatiently. "Spit it out, Duck."

Ducky's brow creased in concentration. "What I'm trying to tell you is that this person, this thing, is not human."

Abby was amazed at the carelessness of the murderer. It appeared that they hadn't even bothered to wear gloves, and had left behind the bloody knife with fingerprints all over it. It was as if the murdered wanted to be found, but that was stupid, because no two people shared a fingerprint.

McGee was currently sitting opposite her, watching her intently as she prepared the fingerprints to be put into the machine for recognition. At last, they were ready. Her face tensed in anticipation as she put the prints through the system and waited for a match.

McGee stared at the screen with her as it flashed through hundreds, then thousands of faces. He frowned. It was taking a lot longer than usual to find a culprit.

When the database finally came up with no match, Abby pounded the table in frustration. "Why won't this damn thing work?" she complained.

"Maybe we're just looking in the wrong range," McGee suggested. He was annoyed too.

Abby humphed and extended the range from three states to the whole of the USA. "We can't miss the murderer now," she grumbled, staring impatiently at the screen.

Finally, the screen stopped on a face, and Abby wished it hadn't. The familiar face stared at her through the screen. Her breath shortened and her eyes widened. It couldn't be.

"Abby?" McGee asked tentatively. He'd never seen Abby react like this to a match.

"Find – Gibbs," she panted, her eyes never leaving the screen. McGee, concerned, went to find Gibbs.

Gibbs hurriedly followed McGee to Abby's lab, seeing Abby in the hyperventilating state that McGee had described. He was by her side in a flash.

"Abbs? Who's that?" he asked, immediately linking the face to her troubling reaction. Abby didn't respond but continued to pant.

Gibbs considered getting Ducky but promptly dismissed that suggestion. "Abbs," he said again, shaking her shoulders.

She finally tore her eyes away from the screen and focused on Gibbs' face, but she still wore that wide-eyed, panicked expression.

"Who. Was. It?" Gibbs asked again, his voice gentle but firm.

Abby stared at the two and calmed down a little bit. "Rose," she murmured. "Rose Hathaway."

[A/N] Gasp! Why does Abby recognise Rose? And I bet you weren't expecting the machine to show that answer (sarcasm).

But, tell me what you think, guys! And readers of You Did WHAT? - the next chappie is coming, bear with me :)

Luv u ppl ;)