Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bethany DiNozzo strode into the NCIS bullpen, her boots clicking softly against the polished floor. She had dressed practically — fitted jacket, tailored pants, blouse tucked neatly, and boots sturdy enough to sprint after a suspect if needed. Professional, put-together, but entirely ready for action. In one hand, she balanced her phone against her shoulder, the other hand clutching a fresh cup of coffee she hadn’t had time to drink.

“…and Tali’s sleeping through most of the night?” she asked into the phone, scanning the familiar room as she walked. “You’re sure she’s adjusting okay? Paris is huge for her little routine.”

Tony’s laughter came through the receiver. “Kiddo, she’s fine. Honestly, she’s probably adjusting faster than you or I could. I swear, she already misses your sarcasm more than you realize.”

Bethany smirked. “Don’t flatter yourself. A few weeks without me, and she’ll survive. But seriously, Tony, how are you two doing? New apartment, new routine?”

“Getting used to it,” he said. “Paris is… Paris. Busy. Exciting. Exhausting. But Tali’s happy. And you know me — keeping up is a full-time job.”

Bethany rolled her eyes. “Good. That’s all I wanted to hear. And don’t forget — we’re video chatting later this week. So I can make sure she’s not plotting world domination yet.”

“Of course,” Tony said fondly. “Almost a month on Gibbs’ team now. Feels weird not working with you there. I had really been looking forward to it since you said you wanted to join NCIS. My little sister the probie,” he teased.

Bethany laughed softly, shaking her head. “Well, you can be relieved. I’m not getting under your feet. And don’t think I won’t keep you honest from Paris, big brother.”

“Noted,” he said, chuckling. “Have you talked to Dad recently?”

Bethany’s storm-grey eyes softened, lips curving. “Actually, yes. I have lunch with him scheduled today. As long as work doesn’t get in the way.”

“Of course,” Tony said warmly. “You know I’m proud of you, right? Ten years younger than me and already holding your own in that bullpen. Don’t forget — little sisters are my responsibility.”

Bethany rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smile on her lips. “Yeah, yeah. I know, big brother. But I’ve got this. You two enjoy Paris, try not to get yourselves banned from any cafés.”

“I’ll do my best,” he said warmly.

She ended the call and set her phone down, finally allowing herself to focus on the bullpen. She headed to her desk — Tony’s old desk — and slid into the chair with a sense of familiarity mixed with determination. The space felt quieter than it had when Tony was here, a stark contrast to the month he had spent filling it with jokes, teasing, and endless energy. Now, the space felt open, a little expectant, as if waiting to see if she would fill it in her own way.

Her gaze scanned the team. McGee hunched over his laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard. Bishop sorted through files with calm precision. Torres leaned back in his chair, smirking at some private joke. And Gibbs, ever silent, stood near the board, coffee in hand, observing.

She opened her laptop. Almost a month in, she had settled into the team’s rhythm — the unspoken rules, the nuances of Gibbs’ leadership, the way the others operated — but she still carried the edge of independence that defined her style. Her attention to detail, calm under pressure, and ability to see patterns others missed had already drawn subtle acknowledgments from the team, even if Gibbs’ approval was quiet, measured, and slow to show.

McGee glanced up. “Morning, DiNozzo.”

“Morning, McGee,” she replied, smirking. “You’ve got a new email from the lab. Maybe this time it won’t crash your system.”

He groaned. “Hey, that’s not fair…”

Torres laughed. “Come on, McGee. Admit it — she’s good.”

Bishop glanced up from her files. “Fast, too. Almost a month in, and she’s already keeping pace better than some agents who’ve been here years.”

Bethany raised an eyebrow, smirk tugging at her lips. “Goal isn’t to blend in. Stand out enough to keep Gibbs from thinking I’m just another desk ornament.”

Gibbs’ voice cut across the bullpen: “Team, call. Navy Yard. Body found. All units, gear up.”

Bethany slid on her jacket, immediately scanning for potential angles as she followed him toward the elevator. She received a subtle nod from Gibbs — faint acknowledgment — as she fell into step, her mind already asking the questions that would guide her through the case: what happened, who, when, and why.

---

The Navy Yard was tense. The victim, a young sailor in uniform, lay in a maintenance corridor. Blood pooled beneath his head, but there were no defensive wounds. Bethany crouched near the body, careful not to disturb anything, and began asking herself questions as much as examining the scene:

“Did he die here, or was he moved after the fact? Could the blood patterns suggest staging?”

Jimmy Palmer adjusted his gloves. “You think he was targeted?”

Bethany glanced up, her storm-grey eyes sharp. “It’s possible. But was it personal or professional? Someone he knew… or someone who had planned this?”

Gibbs’ eyes lingered on her — measuring, evaluating. She didn’t flinch.

She scanned the floor and walls for scuff marks, footprints, or anything out of place. “Did he struggle here? Was he incapacitated elsewhere and brought in? Does the pooling suggest a move?”

Ducky leaned in quietly, placing a gloved hand on the edge of the body. “Ah, Agent DiNozzo, excellent questions. Answers will reveal themselves once he is on the table. Only then will we know what was premeditated and what was incidental.”

Bethany nodded, jotting down notes and continuing to scan the scene. Bishop and Torres exchanged impressed glances. McGee scribbled furiously, trying to keep up.

---

Back at the lab, Abby’s music pulsated through the room. “I ran the fibers. They’re definitely not from the Yard.”

Bethany leaned against the counter. “Could someone have killed him elsewhere and moved him here? Or is the location incidental, convenient for the killer? And if moved, how confident are we in the timeline?”

Ducky smiled, eyes twinkling. “Ah, Agent, all reasonable questions. Answers will reveal themselves when we have him on the table. For now, we gather evidence, follow the trail, and keep our minds open.”

Gibbs didn’t comment. When she looked up, he met her eyes — quiet acknowledgment, subtle approval.

---

By mid-afternoon, leads began to form: interviews, security footage, registries. Bethany moved through them seamlessly, continuing to frame her observations and hunches as questions:

Could the sailor have been on someone’s radar for days, weeks?

Who had access to this corridor?

Did anyone see him after hours?

She teased McGee, Torres, and Bishop with sly humor, but never harshly like Tony might have — a balance of charm and respect.

Her phone buzzed with a message from Tony in Paris: “Tali says hi. Are you keeping Gibbs from yelling at someone yet?”

Bethany grinned and typed back: “Just warming up. Don’t worry, she’ll love it when you call later.”

Late evening found the bullpen quieter. Bethany stayed behind, reviewing notes, tracing timelines, connecting patterns. Gibbs observed from his desk, ever silent. When she glanced up, he gave a faint tilt of his head — approval that needed no words.

For the first time in weeks, Bethany let herself feel it: she belonged here. Not as Tony’s little sister. Not as a replacement. But as Bethany DiNozzo — sharp, sarcastic, capable, and exactly where she was meant to be.

Chapter Text

Bethany DiNozzo pushed open the door to the quiet, sunlit café downtown. The scent of fresh bread and brewed coffee greeted her, and for a moment she let herself relax, letting the hum of the lunchtime crowd fill her senses. She had arranged this lunch weeks ago, and now that it was here, she realized how much she had missed this — a normal, ordinary interaction that didn’t involve investigations, crime scenes, or lab reports.

At a corner table, a familiar figure already waited. Anthony DiNozzo Sr. — her father — stood when he saw her, offering a stiff but genuine smile. His dark hair was flecked with gray now, and the lines around his eyes spoke of the years he had carried silently, of a life filled with work, distance, and more than a few regrets.

“Beth,” he said warmly as she approached. “Good to see you.”

She smiled back, letting herself feel the small weight of relief that came with being called by her nickname. “Hi, Dad.”

He gestured to the chair across from him. “Sit. You look… well.”

“Thanks,” she replied, settling in. “You too.” She paused, studying him. “I mean, I don’t see you often enough to really gauge.”

Anthony Sr. chuckled softly, a low, familiar sound. “Fair point. You’re growing into quite the woman. I hear the team at work has taken a liking to you.”

Bethany tilted her head, smirking lightly. “You mean they tolerate me.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Beth, you’ve always had a sharp tongue and a sharper mind. I think they’re enjoying the challenge.”

She let herself smile at that, but quickly masked it behind a playful roll of her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you’re my dad.”

“Maybe,” he said with a glint in his eye. “Maybe because it’s true.”

The waiter arrived to take their orders. They both kept it simple — salads, sandwiches, nothing too fussy. Once he was gone, silence fell between them for a moment, comfortable in a way that only took years of distance to cultivate.

“How’s Tony?” Anthony Sr. asked gently, stirring his coffee.

Bethany felt her lips curve slightly. “He and Tali are settling in. She’s… adjusting well. You’d be proud of him. He’s a good dad, actually. Hard to imagine, but… he is.”

Her father nodded thoughtfully. “I figured he’d surprise me sooner or later.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “He’s always been full of surprises.” She paused, watching him carefully. “How about you, Dad? How have things… felt lately?”

He leaned back, exhaling slowly. “Better. Talking to you, seeing you take your own path… it’s a relief, Beth. I’ve been thinking about the past a lot lately, about mistakes I made, things I didn’t do right. But seeing you here… it’s… good. Better.”

Bethany studied him for a long moment. Her storm-grey eyes softened. “I know, Dad. I know it wasn’t easy for either of us. And… for a while, I think we both just tried to survive the gaps.”

He reached across the table, resting a large hand lightly on hers. “I’ve missed so much, Beth. I… I’m trying to do better.”

She allowed herself to squeeze his hand gently. “I know. And I appreciate that. Really.”

A brief silence followed, punctuated only by the soft hum of conversation and the clatter of cutlery from nearby tables. Bethany watched him, recognizing both the man he had been and the man he was now trying to be. She saw the care in his eyes, the quiet weight of unspoken apologies, the steady rhythm of someone attempting to rebuild a bond.

“Do you… ever regret it?” she asked finally, her voice low. “Sending me and Tony away, leaving… all those years?”

Anthony Sr. sighed, the lines on his face deepening. “Every day, Beth. Every single day. But I thought it was what was best for you and Tony at the time. I didn’t see it then, but… it created other gaps, more than I realized.”

Bethany nodded slowly. “I get it, Dad. I really do. I just… wish we’d had more time before life got so complicated.”

He smiled faintly. “Me too. But we have this now. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” she admitted. “More than you know.”

They spoke of lighter things next — mutual memories of Tony’s antics growing up, funny family mishaps, the odd quirks that seemed to define DiNozzo men and women alike. Anthony Sr. teased her gently about her sarcastic streak; she retorted with playful barbs. There were laughter and smiles, a sense of normalcy that had eluded them for decades.

When the meal ended, Bethany felt a subtle but significant weight lift. Walking out of the café with her father, she realized how rare and necessary these moments were — a reminder that even amidst the chaos of her career, the bonds of family could hold, repair, and sustain.

Anthony Sr. smiled at her before they parted. “Let’s do this again soon, Beth. Not enough of this. Life’s too short.”

Bethany nodded. “Agreed. I’ll hold you to that, Dad.”

They shared a brief, lingering hug before she stepped into the sunlight, feeling the warmth on her face and the quiet strength of connection with her father. For the first time in a long time, she felt like the distance between them — both literal and emotional — was narrowing, one meal at a time.

---

Returning to Work

The afternoon sun had shifted across the streets as Bethany drove back to the NCIS building. Sliding into her office, she found the bullpen alive with its usual rhythm: McGee bent over his laptop, Bishop sorting files efficiently, Torres leaning back and smirking at some private joke, Gibbs standing near the board, coffee in hand, quiet and measured.

“Back from lunch, DiNozzo?” McGee asked, glancing up.

“Yeah,” Bethany replied, removing her jacket. “Lunch was… productive.” She didn’t elaborate. That part of her life was personal, not professional.

Gibbs’ eyes met hers briefly. He didn’t need words — her presence back at her desk, alert and ready, spoke volumes.

She opened her laptop and pulled up the latest reports on the Navy Yard case. The victim, a young sailor, had been discovered earlier in the day, and Bethany had already begun piecing together the scene in her mind: questions about the location, potential motives, and timing filled her thoughts as she scanned witness statements and security footage.

“Could he have been followed?” she asked quietly, more to herself than anyone else. “Or is the corridor just where it ended?”

Torres leaned over, curious. “Thinking someone moved him after the fact?”

“Possibly,” she said, reviewing the timestamped footage. “But did anyone see him after hours? Who had access here? And the blood patterns… do they suggest he was moved, or did he collapse here?”

Bishop raised an eyebrow. “You always have the best questions.”

Bethany smirked. “I’m just asking the questions that need answers.”

Ducky appeared at her side with Jimmy Palmer trailing behind. “Ah, Agent, your inquisitive mind is doing its work. Remember, some answers come when we examine him on the table. For now, continue to follow the trail.”

She nodded, diving back into reports, evidence logs, and the intermittent notes from Palmer and Abby. Every detail mattered. Every anomaly, every timestamp, every shift in witness testimony could lead to the truth.

Hours passed. By late afternoon, the team had mapped potential leads, cross-checked security footage, and begun interviews with personnel who had been in the corridor. Bethany asked questions, posed theories, and refined possibilities with her colleagues, never claiming certainty, always framing her thoughts as inquiries — exactly the approach Gibbs respected.

Her phone buzzed softly. A brief message from Tony: “Tali says hi. She’s trying to draw on your sarcasm for inspiration.”

Bethany allowed herself a small smile. “Tell her I’ll keep the training sessions short.”

As the bullpen settled into a quieter rhythm that evening, Bethany leaned back in her chair for a moment, absorbing the controlled chaos around her. She was exactly where she was meant to be, balancing family, work, and the unspoken legacy of her brother’s shoes. And she was ready for every question, every answer, and every challenge that Gibbs’ team could throw her way.

Chapter Text

The hum of the bullpen had shifted into a predictable rhythm by mid-morning. Abby’s lab had been alive with her usual energetic focus, tubes clinking, instruments humming, and the faint smell of chemicals wafting through the air. McGee sat at his terminal, eyes scanning through data feeds, Bishop methodically checking witness logs, and Torres quietly reviewing security footage on a secondary monitor.

Bethany opened her laptop at her desk — Tony’s old station, still personalized with small trinkets and pictures, which she had left mostly untouched — and reviewed the compiled notes from the previous day. The Navy Yard case had layers she hadn’t fully anticipated: a young sailor found injured under suspicious circumstances, conflicting statements from personnel on duty, and security camera footage that raised as many questions as it answered.

She had only been on Gibbs’ team for just over a month, but her methods — asking pointed, open-ended questions rather than leaping to conclusions — had quickly earned respect. Her storm-grey eyes scanned the latest timestamps, and she murmured aloud, “If the victim was alone in the corridor, who had access before and after the shift change? And why is there a discrepancy between the log and the badge entries?”

Torres looked up from his monitor. “You thinking someone slipped in during off-hours?”

Bethany leaned back slightly, tapping her pen against her notepad. “Maybe. Or maybe the log itself is inaccurate. Someone could’ve keyed in a false entry, intentionally or not. It’s the pattern that matters — what’s consistent, and what’s off.”

Bishop added, “We’ve got two eyewitnesses saying they saw him leave the mess hall at different times. If either is mistaken, the timeline shifts dramatically.”

She nodded. “Exactly. And if the timeline shifts, the window for potential suspects opens differently. We need to verify every single access point. Every camera. Every swipe card.”

Gibbs entered the bullpen, coffee in hand, eyes scanning the team. He paused briefly at her desk. “Find anything new, DiNozzo?”

Bethany looked up, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Patterns and anomalies, Gibbs. Nothing definitive yet. But I’ve got questions lined up for the personnel — timing, access, behavior before and after the incident. It might help us map the real sequence.”

Gibbs gave a curt nod. “Good. Don’t speculate. Facts first.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

---

On Site at the Navy Yard

By late morning, the team was on-site at the Navy Yard. The corridors, normally sterile and bustling with activity, were quieter now — cordoned off, with investigators moving efficiently but cautiously. Bethany moved deliberately, notepad and pen in hand, scanning the scene. Her eyes caught subtle details: a slightly ajar locker, a scuff on the floor, a faint smudge on a door handle.

“Was he pushed, or did he trip?” she asked aloud, addressing Ducky, who was crouched near the scene with gloves and examination kit.

Ducky looked up, his eyes twinkling. “Ah, Agent, the truth is rarely simple. From the bruising and the angle of impact, I suspect he may have stumbled into something — but I won’t know for certain until we can examine him thoroughly.”

Bethany nodded thoughtfully. “And the smudge on the handle — fingerprint or residue? Could it tell us if someone moved him?”

“Precisely my point,” Ducky replied. “We shall know more once he’s on the table.”

Her eyes moved across the corridor, cataloging every detail. “Timeline is critical. Who had access during shift changes, and were there gaps in supervision? Even small inconsistencies matter.”

Torres leaned closer, whispering, “You ever sleep?”

Bethany smirked, not missing a beat. “Sleep doesn’t solve crimes. Observation does.”

---

Back at NCIS

By mid-afternoon, they were back in the bullpen. Abby had processed the samples from the corridor, and McGee had cross-referenced the security footage with access logs. Bethany reviewed the combined findings.

“Look here,” she said, pointing at the monitor. “The timing on the swipe card entry conflicts with the camera timestamp by almost ten minutes. Someone either entered without swiping, or the logs are off. Either way, it’s a clue.”

Bishop leaned over. “We could interview the shift supervisors again. Maybe they noticed something minor at the time.”

“Exactly,” Bethany said. “Even minor observations can reveal discrepancies in perception, which can help reconstruct the real timeline. It’s all about connecting small dots to form the larger picture.”

Gibbs appeared at her desk again, arms crossed. “What do you see?”

Bethany pointed at the monitor. “A pattern in the access logs — gaps that shouldn’t exist, areas that weren’t covered by cameras. And a potential witness discrepancy. I don’t know which piece is most important yet, but each is worth following.”

Gibbs studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Follow it. Don’t let small details slip.”

“Already on it,” she said, opening the folder with personnel statements and camera screenshots. Her pen flew over the pages as she jotted notes, drawing connections between seemingly unrelated pieces of information.

---

Observations and Theories

Later, she gathered the team in a small conference room. “I don’t have definitive answers,” she said, “but I do have questions that could guide our next steps.” She laid out a series of bullet points:

Access discrepancies and unsupervised gaps.

Conflicting eyewitness accounts and timestamps.

Smudge on locker handle that could indicate movement of the victim.

Pattern in security logs suggesting someone bypassed protocol.

“Could someone have staged the scene?” Torres asked.

Bethany shrugged. “Possibly. Or it could be unintentional. My questions aren’t conclusions — they’re tools. Each one can narrow down possibilities when we follow up with interviews and re-check every detail.”

Bishop nodded, impressed. “You’re thinking like Gibbs.”

Bethany smirked. “I ask the questions he wouldn’t always ask out loud.”

Gibbs entered, observing silently for a moment. “Good. Keep asking. Keep looking. Facts first, then conclusions.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

---

Evening Reflections

As the bullpen began to quiet down, Bethany reviewed her notes one last time for the day. Her mind pieced together what they had learned, considering each anomaly as a potential lead. She glanced at her laptop — a brief text from Tony popped up: “Hope the team isn’t driving you crazy. Don’t work too hard. Tali says hi.”

Bethany smiled faintly, typing a reply: “Tell her I’m on it. The team keeps me busy — don’t worry about me.”

Her eyes returned to the case files, scanning for details others might overlook. She thought about the questions she hadn’t asked yet, the lines of inquiry she could pursue tomorrow. Her approach wasn’t flashy; it wasn’t immediate. But it was precise. And that, she knew, was exactly what Gibbs wanted.

As the office lights dimmed, Bethany allowed herself a brief moment of quiet satisfaction. She had returned from family to work, bridging the gap between personal and professional worlds, and in doing so, had found her rhythm — in observation, in inquiry, in the subtle art of noticing what others might dismiss.

For now, the Navy Yard case was far from over, but with every question she asked and every pattern she observed, the truth moved just a little closer.

Chapter Text

The bullpen was buzzing more than usual. Phones rang, keyboards clicked, and Abby’s excited voice carried over from the lab. The Navy Yard case had intensified overnight, with the coroner confirming the sailor had been assaulted prior to the fall, and new video footage had surfaced showing possible suspects entering and leaving the area.
Bethany sat at her desk, reviewing the footage on her laptop. Her storm-grey eyes narrowed as she traced a shadow moving in the corner of a hallway. “Pause,” she muttered to herself. “Right there… that movement. Does anyone else see that?”
Nick leaned over from the adjacent monitor. “I see it. That’s just before the timestamp for the security log discrepancy you noticed, right?”
“Exactly,” she said, pointing at the frame. “Notice how the shadow hesitates near the locker? Could be nothing, could be someone waiting, or… could be staging something. We need to track every second of this corridor.”
Tim, leaning against the edge of her desk, raised an eyebrow. “You’re suggesting someone intentionally manipulated the scene?”
“Not suggesting,” Bethany said, lips pressed together in concentration. “Observing the possibilities. That’s the difference.”
Ellie approached, holding a stack of newly printed reports. “Beth, the witnesses’ statements are slightly conflicting again. Same two people we talked to yesterday — one’s recollection of the timeline doesn’t match the other, and the entries for the access logs are still off by at least seven minutes.”
Bethany’s pen flew across her notepad. “Perfect. That’s exactly what we need. Contradictions, gaps, anomalies — the things that push us toward the truth.”
Gibbs appeared, coffee in hand, silent until Bethany looked up. “What have you got?”
Bethany gestured at the screen. “A window of time that doesn’t match up, and footage showing potential activity at the scene that doesn’t correlate with any logged personnel. I’m questioning who else had access during that shift and what actions they may have taken.”
Gibbs nodded. “Good. Keep following it. Facts first. The rest comes later.”
By mid-morning, the team split up. Gibbs stayed to coordinate interviews and verify security logs; Bishop and Tim focused on witness statements; Nick assisted with technical review; Abby and Palmer remained in the lab. Bethany grabbed her coat and followed Gibbs to the Navy Yard, ready to take observations in real time.
The corridors were tense with activity. Security personnel were busy clearing paths, investigators moved swiftly, and the occasional patrol echoed in the halls. Bethany moved deliberately, cataloging subtle details: scuff marks on floors, the angle of light from overhead fixtures, slight smudges on lockers.
She stopped near a junction. “If he fell here,” she murmured, “would the trajectory match the injury pattern Ducky reported? Or is there a second point of impact we’re missing?”
Ducky, crouched near the scene with gloves and tools, adjusted his spectacles. “Agent, until I examine him directly, we can only hypothesize. But your observation is astute. Something doesn’t line up.”
Bethany nodded. “We follow every anomaly.” She scribbled notes, taking photos with her phone for reference. Her mind moved in sequences: what she saw, what the coroner reported, the witness statements — all connected through patterns that weren’t yet obvious to the rest of the team.
Nick approached, lowering his voice. “You always seem to notice the little things. Makes the rest of us feel lazy.”
Bethany smirked. “I notice them because I ask questions. Don’t assume. Question everything. That’s the difference.”
Nick laughed, though there was genuine respect in his expression. “Yeah, yeah. Question-master Beth.”
“Don’t start nicknames,” she warned lightly, though the hint of a grin betrayed her amusement.
By mid-afternoon, Bethany returned to the bullpen with updated observations. “We have a potential sequence,” she said, pointing at a timeline chart she had constructed. “Assuming the shadow movement corresponds to the suspect, it suggests someone entered after the last logged personnel but before the victim fell. That matches the seven-minute gap in access logs. We need to identify who had unsupervised access.”
Bishop raised a hand. “We can cross-reference with personal devices. Anyone using phones, tablets, or security equipment around that time.”
Bethany nodded. “Exactly. And we check for minor inconsistencies — fingerprints on handles, any disturbance in equipment. Those small things tell the story the logs can’t.”
Gibbs observed her, silently approving her line of thinking. “Good. Follow it. Keep asking questions, Beth. Don’t let assumptions get in the way.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, already compiling the cross-references for access and personnel logs.
Tim leaned over her shoulder. “You’re really diving deep this time. I mean, I know you’ve always been meticulous, but this… this feels intense.”
Bethany glanced at him, smirking. “I’m doing what Gibbs expects. Besides, it’s not intense — it’s detailed. You’ll catch up.”
Ellie chimed in, “I like the way you’re framing everything as questions instead of conclusions. Makes it easier to argue against assumptions without clashing.”
“Exactly,” Bethany replied. “Assumptions are dangerous in investigations. Facts, observations, and questions — that’s the path to truth.”
Even Nick nodded, impressed. “Alright, question-master, I’ll admit it. You’ve got a point.”
Gibbs moved toward the whiteboard. “Update me on findings. Start from the gaps and go forward.”
Bethany stepped up, her notes organized, timelines precise. “First, we identify all access discrepancies. Second, we cross-check with observed movement — both shadow patterns on footage and witness sightings. Third, we combine anomalies in logs with physical evidence — scuff marks, fingerprints, and the locker smudge — to establish possible paths and timing. Fourth…”
She paused, letting the team absorb the data. “We test each scenario against what Ducky has confirmed about the injury pattern and what Abby has confirmed in the lab. Only then do we know which leads are viable.”
Gibbs nodded. “Good. Proceed.”
Hours later, the team reconvened. Abby had completed chemical analysis on residue found on the locker; Palmer had prepped samples for further testing; Tim and Ellie had double-checked interviews and witness accounts.
Bethany reviewed the compiled data, asking small, precise questions that pushed the investigation further: “Did anyone notice irregular badge activity? Are there discrepancies in the logs we haven’t yet addressed? Could the trajectory of the fall indicate a second point of impact?”
By the end of the day, they had narrowed potential suspects to a small group of personnel with unaccounted-for access during the critical window. It wasn’t conclusive, but it was closer than the team had been in the morning.
As she closed her laptop, Bethany allowed herself a small sigh of satisfaction. The Navy Yard case was still unfolding, still complex, still full of unknowns. But she had carved her space within the team, contributing insight, asking the right questions, and steadily moving them toward answers.
Her phone buzzed briefly — a message from Tony: “Bet the team’s keeping you busy. Don’t forget to eat. Tali says hi.”
Bethany smiled faintly, typing back: “Tell her I’m on it. And yes, I’ll eat… eventually.”
She looked around the bullpen. The team was working seamlessly — each member in their rhythm, each part connecting to the others. And in that rhythm, she felt her place, confident in her questions, her observations, and the small but significant role she played in uncovering the truth.