Clef notes and crime scenes, or to put it even more accurately, music and murder, that is the sum total of my life. I am not so sure it's good to be able to sum your life up in two words, especially when it's those two words. Well, actually the word murder. It usually means you are committing it, or you're cleaning up after it. Both are nasty propositions. I still, however, given the choice, prefer to be on the cleaning crew.

The word music is another kettle of fish altogether. Music is my release valve, my escape. We all have them. Gibbs has his boats and his bourbon. Tim has his pseudonym, Thom Gemcity, able to leap tall writer's block in a single bound. Then there's Ziva, with whatever she does. I have no idea, and I'm not sure I want to know. But for me, it's always been the music. It's not a…pastime I readily admit to having. Most people think all I do is watch old movies in my spare time, and I'm fine with people believing that. Music is…personal. It's mine. I play from my heart. I sing what's inside. I expose my feelings. I bare my soul. I put it out there to be heard. You either like it, or you don't. And, in all truth, that's not the point. In a way I don't care if it's liked. It's not for anyone else, and I'm not concerned with how it's received. But…on the other hand, I guess, I am…vain enough…. I like it when people tell me that I play well. I like it when people tell me that I have a nice singing voice. I appreciate it. I really do.

But, I don't always sing or play to an audience. Sometimes it's to an empty apartment or to an empty elevator. And I have, on those rare occasions that it happens, performed to an empty bullpen. Though, I'm sure, Frank and the other guys in security have definite opinions about my musical prowess. I sing almost anywhere I can. It's just about…that moment. What I need to do to get through that day. What I need to do to get past the horrors that human beings commit on one another.

I used to believe it would be better to have/develop a heart of steel when it comes to this job. That was when I first came to work at NCIS. I got so angry at myself. I would find myself crying at home, late at night, over women and children getting beaten, tortured etc. I couldn't see how or why it affected me so much. I finally came to the conclusion that I couldn't let another's inhumanity affect my own. If I ever got to where it didn't bother me….

Like there are different clefs, there are different types of crime scenes. The hardest to deal with are the ones involving children, and the really bloody ones. I look at those tiny bodies and wonder what they would have made of themselves. And the smell of blood always gets me, after all these years and all the crime scenes I've been to. That smell is sharp, distinctive, and horrible.

I tend to play longer and with more…conviction when we are asked to handle those types of cases. It's so easy to get lost in the moment, which, I guess, is the whole point. I lose all track of time. I come out of my musical abyss, sometimes, hours later. I emerge in a better frame of mind, with a kinder, gentler view of the world. I mean, how bad could it really be when you have music? It's the one thing that can influence moods and change attitudes without the use of prescriptions or syringes.

I manage murder with music. I deal with horror with humor. I use clef notes at crimes scenes. A slightly…skewed view of the world… but then, there is only ONE Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.

THE END

It's a little…departure from my usual. But I hope it was still enjoyable.