Author's Note: Sorry the chapter is so short. The next one is longer. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


FBI Special Agent Tobias Fornell smiled gently as he watched children pour out of J.F.K. Elementary School. It was the second Friday of the month so he would have the whole weekend with Emily. He was looking forward to being able to spend time with his daughter, and the smile did not leave his face until he realized that no more students were leaving the building, and the tiny blond was not among the waiting faces.

Images of all the crime scenes he had seen involving children, images that still haunted his dreams, flashed through his mind. The body of his little girl replaced those of the victims. He calmed his ragged breathing and rapid heart rate. There's no reason to panic. She's probably just inside talking to someone. She's fine. She has to be. He parked the car and put on his controlled special agent facade as he stepped into the school's lobby. Glaring at the young man sitting at the entrance desk, he barked, “Where's Emily?”

The secretary jumped as his tone jolted him out of his daydreams. “Um. I'm sorry sir. Wha... what was that?” he managed to stamper out.

Fornell's glare intensified, “My daughter, Emily Fornell, where is she?”

“Um, right, Emily Fornell,” he pawed frantically through the logs, terrified that he'd done something wrong.

“Here we are, sir. She was, uh, checked out early, sir.”

“What, by who?” I swear if her mother is trying to pull one over me again... he let that thought trail off never to be completed as he heard the words that came next.

“By her aunt, sir”

“Her aunt,” he choked out letting his calm exterior mask slip and panic overtake him. “Emily doesn't have any aunts.”

“I don't see how this could have happened, sir. There are protocols that must be followed,” the principal protested for what seemed like the hundredth time, “We don't just let any old person waltz into our school and waltz out with a child that's not their's.”

Fornell finally turned away from the security video playing on the screen at FBI Headquarters. “Well, obviously, your imbecile of a secretary didn't follow your precious protocols, did he now? And you know why? 'Cause he was thinking with his balls instead of his brains.”

Leaving the man to sputter in indignation, he turned back to the screen, which was once again showing a dark-haired young woman lean on the desk and address the secretary. You could clearly see the man was concentrating so fully on the view that he barely glanced at the note she handed him or at the telephone as he called Emily's classroom. Neither did he notice the look of confusion on the little girl's face as the woman led her away. Fornell noted vaguely that she made sure to give a final twitch of her hips as she walked out the door, towing his helpless girl after her. Probably to keep him from thinking to much about anything else for a while. That way she could be far away by the time someone figured out something was wrong, he thought spitefully, and it worked to. He was still daydreaming when I came in three hours later.

“Besides, she's not just any old person,” he muttered more to himself than to the principal, who was now trying to think of ways to salvage his reputation.

“Sir, do you recognize the kidnapper?” asked the video/audio tech.

“Yeah, I recognize her all right,” he mumbled, “And I recognize what she's capable of as well.” He'd only caught a glimpse of her once almost exactly three years ago, but he had never forgotten her face, nor the look she had sent him as she watched him lead away her older brother. It had been clear to him then that she had vengeance on her mind. But after a while he'd let that thought, that fear, fade into the background of his mind, replaced by more immediate concerns. But the image was always there waiting, silent except for a few nudges in the rare moments when he let his mind stray too far from the present. Just as she herself must have been waiting, patient as she looked for vulnerabilities in his life, waiting for a single moment of weakness on his part.

Suddenly he turned around and stalked out of the lab, ignoring the protests of the principal, the lab tech, and his supervisor. Giving a moment of thought to his situation he turned around to confront his supervisor, “I don't care what you say...” he began.

The older man cut him off, “I know you better than that, Fornell. I haven't even bothered considering ordering you off this case,” he said in resignation, “However, you can't do this alone. I am ordering you to take a couple of agents with you.

Fornell sighed, “That's fine as long as I get to chose the agents myself,” He wasn't going to let his daughter's fate rest in the hands of some half-witted, straight-laced, fool of an agent.

“Take whoever you need. Where were you going in such a hurry anyway?”

“NCIS Headquarters. I need to talk to Gibbs.”

His supervisor blinked in surprise, “What does Agent Gibbs have to do with this mess?”

“Oh, just about everything,” he tossed over his shoulder as he walked out the door.