McGee silently stands at attention by Tony where they're standing behind Amidala's uncle, aunt, cousins, siblings, and parents. The closed casket in front of all of them is a stark reminder of why they are here. Had it only been a week since that awful day. And why do her relatives look annoyed more than upset? He's not familiar with the Duchy's funeral practices, hell, he hadn't even known that Danbury Estates was a country before meeting Amidala but this isn't a chapel or other religious practice building.

The sound of swearing in a familiar voice and multiple languages has him jerking and staring around, sure he was hearing things. But no, the others bar Tony, Director Vance, and Gibbs are looking amused.

“Amidala Marie Amderson, you're still not too old for me not to wash out your mouth with soap, young lady.” The Duchess bellows.

“Give me a break, Aunt Maria. I was fucking shot and just woke up to my own burial.” The door of the room they were in opens and a very much alive and well Amidala walks in muttering very rude comments under her breath. She opens the casket for McGee to see that yes, the body she sees every time he closes his eyes is in there. She looks at the others and a baggie of personal effects is passed over by one of her siblings. “Yes,” She says in disgust. “I know it is not the first time I've been killed but I still don't enjoy it.”

“At least you didn't bury your own dead body with your bare hands thanks to somebody else's oops.” Maleficent says in disgust as the casket is interred in the bottom floor of Amidala's workbuilding in Danbury Estates. Among others McGee is alarmed to see. And some of them are disturbingly small.

“I'm sorry to have it shown to you in this way, but Sparks have an alarming tendency to come back from the dead.” Amidala sighs as she settles into a seat at the Tower and starts filling her plate at the funeral/she finally showed up again dinner.

“Which is why the others are more annoyed than upset?” McGee asks quietly.

“Yes, we're used to this.” Her uncle sighs.

“Which is why Ducky and Jimmy quickly hurried you out of the morgue and to the Embassy without alerting anybody else.” Director Vance sighs. “Your purse and other personal belongings are still in your office and I expect you back to work at your regular time.” Amidala had looked in the baggie and her keyfob and NCIS id card were in there.

“Okay, what time is is and what day is it?” Amidala asks dryly. Then squirms in her chair. “Dammit, I itch. Coming back from the dead always leaves me with dry skin. And can I ask. . ..what the fuck happened?”

“That's what we're still trying to find out.” Gibbs says quietly. “We suspect the target was either Ducky or Palmer since they're the ones who are normally there. It might be something to do with Ziva and her father. It might be something to do with another case. The fact that somehow they go through security is . . .alarming.”

“Alarming?” Director Vance snorts. “It's damn criminal. Even if they came in through the garage there should have been a trace of them. One of my people was killed, damn it.” He turns his attention to Ducky and Palmer. “I don't know how the hell you managed to clean up the evidence of her death both in the morgue and the cameras.”

“No blood, it was a clean shot that didn't bleed out and we made it appear that she had fainted and we carried her in the office to lay down.” Ducky says quietly. “This isn't my first time covering up a a death and I doubt it will be my last.” Once again Vance and Gibbs are reminded that the kindly, slightly doddering ME is a trained killer.

Amidala shows up at her usual time at NCIS headquarters, deflecting questions about by why she collapsed and been away as the damn flu that's running around. Since so many people are out sick they nod in understanding.

“Are you. . ..okay?” Kasie asks quietly, touching her arm. She pats it absently. “Yes, the bloody flu is going around and the doctors say that this strain isn't one that's in the flu shots so there's no real protection against it.” Kasie nods. She'd been off nearly a week from the flu herself. “At least working by myself here and with the proper precautions at the Embassy nobody else is sick.”

To cover her story, she sees that there's a large bottle of hand sanitizer in the restroom off her office, one of many around the building. Along with multiple cans of spray sanitizer.

Turning her attention back to the files she'd been working on after starting a new mug of tea and staring at the wall for a few minutes she gets to work. She's not worried about the files, not with so many people off at the agency and she's giving secretarial a break.

Security nods in agreement when they see the partial cart when they pick it up. Every area of the agency is losing people right and left to the flu and everybody is working more hours to keep everything running.

The next few weeks are quiet as people start coming back to work or getting sick and taking time off. She sends off the files and life goes on.

“Are you sure you want to know this, my dear?” Ducky asks one day after work.

“Find out why I died. . . .again? Yes, just for my own peace of mind. Coming back from the dead doesn't stop the nightmares.” She says quietly. He sighs and pats her on the shoulder. She's so young and shouldn't have to deal with things like this.

“As Director Vance suspected, it was indeed tied to Director David's machinations. The young man who sneaked into the building knew that he had shot and killed you. When he saw you walking around later he realized that you must be a Spark and would stop at nothing to hunt him down and destroy him at the subatomic level. And then arrange for his soul to be tormented for all eternity.”

“Was I the intended target?”

“No, you were merely collateral damage as it were.” He says quietly. “Director Vance used the somewhat tarnished reputation of Sparks to get all the information he could out of the man before he was sent off, including the others in the operation. Hopefully this is the last of the fool's machinations, finding out what he had ordered had him taken from prison and summarily put in front of a firing squad by the Israeli government.”

Later that night after yet another attempt at a good night's sleep is interrupted by a nightmare Amidala finds herself working in her forge, hammering on a blade. It might seem like another backwards thing in her country but she's very well familiar with knives and swords thanks to tutors.

The next day Ducky nods seeing a look of peace in her eyes at their morning break. Oh, she'll probably have a few more nights of interrupted sleep but its now like any other time she was killed through no fault of her own. Almost as if she'd read his thoughts she solemnly nods.

“Are you getting more files done?”

“Yes, more people are back in secretarial so I don't feel like I'm punishing them for being short staffed.” The others nod.

“Isn't it late for the flu?” McGee asks.

“No, flu season is October through May though you can get the flu anytime of the year.” Jimmy says. “Though the worse of it is the later in the season.” Ducky nods. “Which is why you should get your flu shot as soon as possible when the new one is available, it takes a few weeks to build up the immunity.”

“Assuming the strain running around is the one in the shot, its a crapshoot whether the strain the docs think will be the prevalent strain actually is.” Gibbs rumbles. Ducky sighs but nods as the embassy cell phone rings in Amidala's pocket. She quickly answers it and hurries off, yelling over her shoulder that there was an incident at the Embassy.

She arrives back at NCIS visibly annoyed and muttering rude comments under her breath the next morning.

“Ms. Amderson?” Director Vance asks as she settles in her office.

“Some bloody fool in the FBI did not like the fact that I repair devices, both those that are rescued from the landfills and those brought in by the owners. He was convinced we .. . “ She growls softly in annoyance at not being able to find the words. “Were running a burglary ring?” he asks quietly.

“Yes, because he saw all those trucks coming in full and coming out empty. He was stunned when he saw we were an embassy, the fool had managed to miss that bit of information. More trucks arrived while he was there and he crowed at the sight, throwing open the doors and being confronted with boxes of recycling. And his boss. Who was not amused at his actions and drug him off calling him several kinds of fool. I believe you are familiar with the fool in question, Sacks?”

“Not personally but he's been involved in cases here before I was brought in.” He says quietly.. “But Gibbs's team has had dealings with him in the past.”

Tony is braying with laughter at the news at the morning break, Ducky looks like he wants to chide him for it but is silently agreeing with him. “Yeah, that sounds like that fool Slacks.”

“Insulting nickname both from his last name and because he takes the easy route instead of actually investigating the evidence.” McGee says as her opening mouth. She nods and closes it. “The poor dear is heartbroken at the case that would make him somebody turned out to be a bust. He's being yelled at by everybody in his office including his fellow agents and the President is praying we don't turn this into an international incident after the Embassy Row attack and don't stop our recycling. Because our processes are both cleaner and more efficient.”

“Really stupid, what the hell did you think was going to happen?”

“I. . . .I didn't know the trucks I saw coming in monthly were full of recycling. I just saw boxes being offloaded into a building and the trucks leaving empty.”

“Did you not see the embassy plaque on the wall by the gates?”

“I. . ..I didn't think it was real. After all, who ever. . .” his voice trails off as his boss does a government search for Danbury Estates, the information being put on the screen in front of him.

“Hey.” Fornell says from the top of the stairs leading down to the basement at Gibbs's house where he's working on a boat.

“Hey yourself, see where your man Sacks fucked up. . .again.”

“Not my man, unlike you I know when I've had enough and took the retirement they've been threatening me with. Gods Jethro, we both passed the cutoff when any other agent has to retire years ago. Why are you still hanging around the office?”

“Got nowhere else to go.” He says, putting away his sanding block. “Drink?”

“Yeah, but a actual cup, not a mason jar.” He says. “What a mess. If the idiot doesn't get fired I don't know why. He's so damn cocksure of himself.”

“Idiot thinks he's all that. Doesn't have the skills to back it up.”

“Yeah, and jealous of everybody else who does.” He sighs. “Not my problem anymore. Hopefully this gets his ass bounced out of the agency.” He looks at the other man. “Got a meeting with the Ambassador Friday afternoon, hear she's working at NCIS?” Didn't they learn from Ziva is not said but plainly understood.

“Scanning the damn files that keep cropping up here, there, and everywhere. She does good work except when things go sour, like those damn fool kids who took over her office then destroyed it.”

“Yeah, I see where they finally got what they actually deserved when they tried attacking your building. Idiots. What's she like?”

“Calm, level-headed. Tries not to swear because her aunt keeps telling her she's not too big to get her mouth washed out with soap.” Fornell blinks at him and starts cackling. “Not afraid to do the same work as the others at the Embassy. Unless you knew her, you'd never know she was the Ambassador. Only reason there's an embassy at all is the previous president thought it was beneath him not to work with one. Actual embassy building is only in use maybe once a year by them, the rest of the time its sitting empty or being rented by charities or other Embassies after the incident last year.”

“Heard that. One of the reasons the fool tried to say he didn't know they were an embassy. Because he never heard of somebody doing something like that.”

“Because he's a damn fool and never heard of political dinners or fundraising events for charities?”

“Yeah, he had to duck his head at that because he's fucking been there for some of them as extra security.”

“Friday?”

“Works four ten hour days, alternating Friday and Monday off weeks so she has four days off for Embassy . . .stuff.” He waves a hand. “It's usually very light, more often than not she says she just holds a meeting in the hotel and they talk about their plans for the next few months. Last meeting like that was last fall when she was making sure everybody was ready for winter since their country has bad winters.”

“Is her last name really Amderson?”

“It is, everybody tries correcting it to Anderson but that's really an M as the second letter.”

Friday afternoon Fornell is waved through the gates after showing his ID and telling the guards that he was there for a meeting with the Ambassador. They'd exchanged amused looks and waved him to a parking space in front of what is obviously a hotel.

He's let into the building and his first impression is quiet. A woman is sitting across from him at what was the check in desk when the hotel was operating with a status board behind her. He walks over to the desk. “Tobias Fornell to see Ambassador Amderson?”

The woman in front of him smirks. “You've done your homework. Gibbs told me you had asked him some questions about me, among them making sure of my last name.”

“You're Ambassador Amderson?” he not quite shrieks. Amused looks from everybody around him.

“Yes, I'm covering the desk for Monica, she had a call about an important communique from our country.” More amused looks. “There is a bet going on whether or not said communique is my cousin is bored and is on her way.” A few minutes later two other women enter the lobby. “You know where my workroom is,” Amidala says, waving a hand at the brunette.

“Thanks, some damn fools are whining to dad about. . .something or other.” She flops a hand in a 'whatever' gesture every teenage no matter what country they're from seems to know instinctively. Tobias chuckles, recognizing that gesture from his own daughter Emily. “And I'm caught up on everything back home.”

He's led to a couch in the lobby. “I don't have the need for an official office and I doubt you truly have anything to say besides passing along apologies from the president for the onerous actions of your former underling.”

“You did your own research I see.” he chuckles.

“Gibbs told me you would be coming out and that you had been friends for years. Beyond sharing a wife.” She says in amusement.

The others look at him. “I married Gibbs first ex-wife and we had a child together before she left me and married another guy.” They shake their heads and go back to what they'd been doing. “Yes, most of our work happens here in the hotel lobby unless we have the need for specialized equipment.” A muttering from the front desk has her looking that direction.

“The supply closet of paper has been refilled, there's one more ink cartridge in there, and the company is coming out Monday to pick up the others and drop off refilled ones.”

“Thank you Amidala, whatever happened to the idea of a paperless office?” She brings out another ream of paper and refills the printer tray, putting the rest under the desk. “One damn piece of paper, I just needed one damn piece of paper.”

“Doesn't exist, that's why I work ten hours four days a week scanning decades old case files. I asked the same thing when I started working at NCIS last year.” She shakes her head. “Has it been a year already, it doesn't seem like it.”

“You weren't kidding, level-headed young woman you'd never peg as an Ambassador.” Fornell shakes his head when he walks down the stairs to the basement. Gibbs looks up from his spot at the table working on something and smirks.

“Yep.”

The following Tuesday she signs in at NCIS and fills the cart with files for a few days of work. Sipping on her tea she turns on the computer and starts to work. Mel had headed back home a couple days after she arrived when an amused guard had passed along the 'all clear, the boring old fools are gone' message.

“Gods.” Director Vance moans, looking in the doorway and seeing the still partially full box of files in the room. “And we're still not through a box yet? How many files has she gone through?” He heads up to secretarial, asking if they know.

“Not quite eighty thousand, I don't know how the hell they got all those files in there.” The head of secretarial moans. “Because I've seen pictures of both the box when she started and last week because we couldn't believe it was still just one box. And cussed when I realized there were so many more boxes like that. Forget getting this all done is six months, I'd say six years.”

“Yeah, that was my thought too when I realized how many more files were in that box. They must have emptied an entire room or two. If not an entire building.”

“Looks like it. They must have been filling those boxes for days, if not weeks.” Everybody in the room nods.

Amidala nods in agreement at the Director's thoughts when he enters her office. “Nothing that can be done about it.”

“No, we knew this was going to take decades and it will take decades. There's no hurry on getting the files in the servers and we're not the only Agency dealing with this mess. Just the largest.” The others nod as the story is repeated at the morning break. “And the open case files are twice that many, especially with teams that have longer investigations.”

The others nod. “Which is why many jurisdictions have their own units that deal solely with cold cases.”

“And why so many police officers have cases that haunt them.” Tony sighs. The others nod.

The day the last file from the box is scanned, Amidala takes the cart up to secretarial herself. The others blink. “Last files from that box.” They are quickly counted and the numbers added to the total. “One hundred eighteen thousand and twenty-five.”

Amidala quickly does the math. “At a minimum of eight more boxes in that room, that will be over a million files in that room alone.” The others sigh but nod because everybody knows there's more files where that came from.

Security looks at her when she comes back to her office. “I took them up to secretarial myself to celebrate the finish of the first box. The total was 118,025 files in that box.” They moan, silently doing the math.

Security drags the now empty box from the room, putting it up in the room filled with bags of files to be recycled. The others who hadn't seen the pictures of the boxes moan or swear.

“How long did it take to empty that thing?”

“Nineteen weeks, give or take. Ms. Amderson was out with the flu for a week and she went easy on us when she got back because we were shorthanded with so many out with the flu themselves.”

She walks into the morgue, holding her arms up in triumph. “I just finished that first monster box of files. A hundred eighteen thousand and twenty-five files if anybody is interested.” More moaning or swearing.

“Didn't you have to replace that new scanner?”

“Yes, Director Vance agrees with me I will no doubt go through two or three scanners a year.”

“At least.”

“How old are those files?”

“Not that old, secretarial was complaining that they should have been on microfilm already. . .if anybody had known where they were or if they existed.”

“Sounds about right for the government.” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “I wouldn't be the least bit surprised to find out they were on microfilm, the files were just put back instead of being destroyed.”

Nods from the others. “But at least this way they're not going in a landfill and will be reused.”

After lunch she opens the next box and fills the cart, settling behind her desk and starting to work.

A couple weeks later Pieter moans at the size of the box. “I knew Amidala said the boxes were huge but. . . “

“Yeah, not that huge.” One of the men helping empty the bags says as the box is propped in a corner for the others to see.

The blubbering fool complaining that it had taken nearly five months to finish a box quickly shuts up when confronted with the size of the box and number of files it had contained. And is icily reminded by his boss he can't finish one box of less than a hundred files in a day so shut his fool mouth and keep his attention on his own work instead of complaining about somebody else.

He runs off sobbing, the others laughing at him. At him. Fucking moron is said by everybody who knows him.

“What the hell did you think would happen when you went complaining about somebody who works at another agency, you goddamn idiot?” Is asked by his boss when he's dragged back to heel by the other man. “You were just looking to cause trouble for somebody else and got your ass handed to you for your stupidity.”

“But I didn't know the boxes were so big. Wh hy hy hy hy are they so big?”

“Because an idiot like you didn't stop to think, 'hey, the reason why these are being moved to another building is so they can be scanned onto the servers' and instead of multiple small boxes,” she waves a hand at the pile across the room where people can grab a box as needed when they finish one, “They found those somewhere and filled them in the building. At least thank god once they're on the server they can be recycled.”

“What?” he screeches. “No, you can't.”

“What the fuck did you think we're scanning all these files into the system for moron?” His boss asks in disgust. “Yes, as the files are scanned and double counted to make sure they're in the system correctly, the boxes are gathered up and taken to a secure place to be recycled.”

“But. . .but . . .but don't you need these?”

“Why the fuck do you think they're going onto the servers asswipe?” a coworker asks in disgust. “So we can have them but not have boxes everywhere with no way of knowing what is where/”

“ohhhhh, yeah.” he slumps. “I. . .I thought they were just going back to another building. They used to do that.”

“Yeah, and that's why we're looking at millions of files nobody knew what and where they were.” Another coworker says in disgust as they finish their box and set it aside so it can be doublechecked. Grabbing another box she starts to work.

“So keep your mind on your own damn business instead of trying to look down on somebody else's work. She routinely completed ten boxes a day before she got to those fucking monster boxes and her boxes held more files than ours.”

“So in other words, sit down, shut up, do you own work, and quit thinking you're better off then people you don't know shit about. Because you ain't.”

“Exactly. And quit dawdling. Get in at least two boxes a day or you can go join the maintenance team and I'll replace you with somebody who actually wants to do this work instead of screwing around.”

Amidala comes back from lunch with the others, settling another pile of folders on the side of her desk. Picking up the first one she types the case number into the file, double-checking it on the pages inside to make sure it's correct and not actually a different file before putting the pages inside in the slot to be scanned, making sure there's nothing on the back of the pages and putting it in the cart on her other side.

A knock on the door has her holding up a hand and finishing the last file before security takes the cart off, grabbing her purse and heading out. This was her last day before being off for the american's Fourth of July and she sighs as she slumps into the seat of the car and it drives off.

She passes the location where the embassies are being rebuilt by the Israeli government as a 'good will gesture' though everybody knows they're trying to appease the other governments involved.

“What are our plans?” She asks after dinner that night.

“There will be a 'cookout' the 4th itself, we've invited the people we deal with more often.”

One of the embassy workers holds up a hand and she looks at him. “I've been contacted by the mayor of the local town, they're hoping we'd be willing to help volunteer to help out with work on low income housing in the area if they can get in the supplies.” She waves a hand. “You know you can do anything you wish during your free time.”

The fourth comes and vehicles arrive in the parking lot.. Amidala is introduced to Director Vance's wife and children, Mr. Fornell's daughter who calls Gibbs uncle Jethro, and McGee's girlfriend Delilah. They shake their heads but settle at the tables with food.

“Amidala, were you kidding about the loan you were talking about?” McGee asks quietly.

“I wasn't, but you might wish to ask your boss if it is a conflict of interest.” Director Vance looks over at them when his name is called.

“Agent McGee, Ambassador Amderson.” She makes an acking sound and grabs at her chest in dismay, some of the others cackling. “We are on your embassy grounds after all.”

“I offered to loan Agent McGee money to buy a new car and a house if he found something he liked since he is still working weekends to put money aside for those purposes.”

“Car nickling and diming you to death?” Gibbs asks.

“Yeah, it's getting worse now and with the judgments, even overturned, my credit took a hit and any loans will be more interest. I could afford a new car payment or a house payment, not both. And my apartment building is going condo.”

Director Vance sighs. “Do you have the money to loan him?”

“Easily, as I told him the embassy has funds for just such an occasion. We can also loan you the money for your children's future education if you needed it.” Kasie looks down the table at her. “And pay off your student loans at a much better interest rate so you have more money for seminars you wish to attend when you don't have paid time off. Or depending on the specialty we could pass along any information since we have a list of professional seminars our people attend.” The others nod in agreement.

“Talk to me back at NCIS Ms. Hines, there is no reason why you should be having to take time off to attend seminars. I see I really have to talk with HR again.” Vance sighs. “Get Ambassador Amderson any paperwork you have. . .here. This way I can truthfully say this all happened off US government property.” He looks at them. “And it will be NOT be an interest free loan, am I understood?”

“Understood, but it also won't be paying years of interest with only a penny or two on the principal.” Amidala says sourly. The others sigh but nod.

A couple of weeks later Kasie and McGee hand over the paperwork, it's looked over and taken to another room. A few minutes later the folders are returned along with paperwork to sign, after they're signed they're copied as well and returned, with them are checks made out to them.

“Just how rich is their country?” Kasie asks quietly as they walk out of the hotel.

“Very. You wouldn't know it from the official records but very, very rich.”

“I'm surprised that they were so familiar with 4h of July cookout food.”

“From what I understand they take pride in being familiar with many types of cooking styles.”

At NCIS Amidala signs in and starts a pot of tea going before taking the cart down the hall to fill for the next two days work and returns, finding Director Vance waiting on her. “Did Agent McGee and Ms. Hines come to you?”

“Yes, and they have signed the paperwork and received the checks. The paperwork tells them how much interest they will pay. . .not monthly but one amount added to the loan and amounts they should be paying monthly. If they wish to pay extra to pay it off sooner that's fine and if they pay less because of other bills that's fine too. We have money program files for each of them to show both their payments and the amounts they still owe.” He nods in satisfaction. “Did you talk to HR about Kasie having to take time off to attend Seminars?”

“Yes, they didn't know that it was part of their duties to attend seminars for the lab personnel and had to go hunting through years of paperwork to find out when it had been changed. I was very upset to find out my predecessor had done it to punish lab techs for disobeying her insane wishes and had it put back in place. HR is going to be in contact with every tech who has had to pay for seminars on their own and take off unpaid leave time to see if they can get at least part of that money back. Especially if it was required for their position.” He sighs. Amidala pretends not to hear him calling her a malicious bitch under his breath.

Kasie throws her arms around Amidala a few days later. “Thank you. I just got the official confirmation that my student loans are paid off.”

Amidala looks at McGee. “I'm trading in my car for a new one next week and put down a down payment on a house. The owners are asking two to three times the price of the units and not many people are making offers on their apartments.”

“Idiots.” Tony shakes his head. “I was looking at buying a unit in your building but they want too much money. I'd never make the money back on my investment.”

“No, you wouldn't. Most of the units need work, I think that's one of the reasons they're trying to go condo now, try to make it somebody else's problem.” The others nod.

Amidala sighs as she looks at the rain pouring down the window of her suite at the hotel. The weather had been wet and miserable for nearly a week thanks to a hurricane that had brushed the coast and she is tired of being indoors all the time. She's not the only one, the major crime unit is getting hammered thanks to the weather making everybody miserable and she'd been eating lunch by herself for nearly two weeks now.

“Thank god that is fucking over.” McGee moans. “I don't know how the hell officers who have to deal with foul weather more often deal with this shit.”

“Bad weather brings out the worse in people.” Gibbs says quietly. “You're too young to remember it, but Ducky can tell you about blackouts and looting.”

“Indeed.” Ducky says dryly. “We are fortunate not to be in a location that has hurricanes and/or tornadoes on a more frequent basis. Now my dear,” he turns his attention to Amidala who holds up a hand. “Tony dragged me away from my office to have lunch with him and his associates a few times while you were busy since he wasn't. I know Ned Dorneget from functions I've had to attend with my family since his mother is State Department.” Tony nods. “Dorneget was able to get me in contact with Emily Prentiss from BAU since she works there and we've been exchanging information on some cases.”

Ducky nods in satisfaction. “How are you coming along on the second box?”

“Like the first one, done when it's done. Secretarial is keeping the count, they can tell me when I'm done with this box just like the first one. Especially since I suspect that one was the last one and not as full as the others.” The others sigh but nod. “The truck is still coming out every other week to have the files recycled and I will probably be done with this box by the time we break for Christmas.” The others nod.

“And if there are more complaints?”

“Director Vance didn't hire me, the government did. He doesn't want to fire me and neither do they. They know how much work I do and the whiners can go away or do the job themselves.”

“Yes, much to the horror of the fools who think they're all that.” Jimmy snaps his fingers and the others nod.

Jimmy sighs as he opens the check from the district court that's the next payment towards what Abby owes for trying to steal from him and deposits it by his smartphone. He's sent back every letter letter she's tried sending via his lawyer and he now has a permanent protective order against her. He didn't have the heart to tell Tony that the authorities have stopped no less than five attempts by her to try to have them killed for putting her in prison and she will probably never get out of prison because of additional charges against her. Though he suspects the others know.

“Amidala?” He asks quietly the next day.

“Need a loan too?”

“My car is dying and I'm afraid it's going to leave me stranded some day. The mechanics agree it's not fixable. I can't afford to pay off my bills from medical school and buy a new vehicle.” She shakes her head. “Come out to the Embassy with all the paperwork.”

Jimmy sighs a few days later as he takes the check to pay off his student loans and buy a new vehicle and deposits it at the bank before heading to the dealership with a copy of the check he'd just deposited and leaves an hour later with his new vehicle.

“I take it this was needed?” Director Vance asks calmly after he got the alert that Dr. Palmer was there with a new vehicle.

“My old one was dying and the mechanics say it couldn't be fixed. It died just as I made it to the dealership after depositing the money in my account.”

“And you went to Ms. Amderson?”

“I couldn't afford a new vehicle and pay off medical school.” Director Vance moans. “I see I need to talk with HR again, you should have been reimbursed for that as part of your job. No doubt something else Sheppard got rid of because nobody kissed her ass.” He walks off muttering as security finishes the paperwork for his new parking tag.

“Oh dear heavens.” Ducky says when the person in the new vehicle everybody had been looking at in the parking lot turns out to be Jimmy.

“Old one nickling and diming you to death too?” McGee asks.

“Dying and couldn't be fixed. As it is, it died just as I pulled into the dealership.” He sighs as they walk into the building.

“Amidala?” McGee asks quietly. The quiet look in his eyes is the answer.

“What do you mean NCIS never paid for schooling? None of it?”

“Not unless it was something like fletc as part of their hire, no. Not continuing education which included refresher courses, learning a new skill needed for the job, or med school in Dr. Palmer's case. Most employees already had the education they needed before the joined NCIS.”

Vance shakes his head, disturbed that his employees are once again not getting everything they need to do their jobs. “Damn it, we've got money in the budget. How can we use it for our people's needs?”

“Case by case basis, either a partial scholarship or full pay depending on what's needed.” One of the older women in HR says. “You know now and things are getting a lot better than they were under Sheppard.” Her name sounds like a curse word coming from her and he has to agree.

“Thank you.” Jimmy pulls Amidala into a hug when he taps on the door of her office for their morning break. “My old vehicle died on me just as I pulled into the dealership to pick up the new one. I couldn't have timed it any better if I tried.” She chuckles and follows him down to the morgue.

“I can't believe it's the middle of October already, where has the year gone?” Kasie can be heard complaining as they walk through the door.

“How was the seminar?”

“Good, I brought back tons of information for myself and the others.”

“Is it is just me. . .”

“No, I'm afraid they're predicting we're going to have a long, cold winter this year.” Ducky sighs. “I would suggest everybody stock up on supplies before the rush. Including canned food in case there's bad storms that leave you unable to go grocery shopping.” He looks at Amidala. “The outside crops are in, the indoor hydroponics areas grow year-round. Our snow shovels, snow blowers, and plows were new or nearly new last year and will be inspected again before this winter. We stock up on non perishables all the time.” He nods in satisfaction, Amidala lives the farthest out of them all. But then all her people are used to a normal Danbury Estates winter.

The week of the American Thanksgiving she settles on the couch in the hotel lobby.

“Are you still going to be finished with this second box before you're off until New Years?”

“No, I'm only about three quarters through it and already well over the number of files from the other box.” Amidala sighs and yawns at the rain covering the windows that will most likely be turning to snow by night.

It's nearly February when Amidala finishes the last file and takes the cart upstairs.

“Last of this box?” Amidala smiles as nod as everybody who can stops what they're doing and starts grabbing bunches of files and bags and starts counting.

“Two hundred ten thousand, eight hundred and two.” She says when she returns to her office with the cart. Security blinks and moans.

Whimpering or swearing from the others at lunch.

“How?”

“The other files were larger, these took longer because they were only one or two pages per case.”

“Yeah, a lot of the time it was only one or two people teams. Or even people working by themselves.”

“Just like most police departments.” Nods from the others. “At least all this crap isn't going back to another building to molder for another fifty years, or a landfill.”

After lunch she opens the third box and fills the cart, making a note of the fact that this is another box on the computer before she starts to work.

“What the hell?” She asks a few minutes later. Grabbing more files and now she sees envelopes from the cart she starts looking through them and moans. Going upstairs to Director Vance's office she drags him down to her office by his sleeve and waves a hand at the cart. Giving her a look he grabs a file and opens it, staring and grabbing more.

“Are they all fucking empty?” He moans.

“Certainly looks that way.” She says from the couch in the corner of her office.

“Take the rest of the day off. . .Tomorrow is your normal day off anyway and it will take us a few days until we figure out what the hell is going on. You might end up starting another room.” He escorts her out once everything is shut off and then goes up to his office. “Cynthia, hold my incoming calls and expect people to come running in wondering what the fuck is going on. Ms. Amderson just started that third huge box after lunch. . .the files and envelopes inside were empty.”

Cynthia moans. “Indeed. You can tell whoever comes up here wanting to know where Ms. Amderson is that I gave her the afternoon off while we try to figure out what the fuck is going on. She'll be back at her normal time Tuesday.”

Cynthia holds up a hand when Ducky rushes into the outer office. “Director Vance gave Ms. Amderson the afternoon off because when she started the new box after lunch, the files and envelopes were empty. She'll be back Tuesday morning her usual time.”

“Oh dear lord.” he moans.

“Yeah, right now Director Vance is.. . .He's expecting you gentlemen, go on in.” She waves a hand at the people coming into the office.

“The folders and envelopes were empty?” Can be heard through the door before it shuts.

“Amidala was sent home by Director Vance, the folders and envelopes in the new box she started after lunch are empty.” Ducky announces when he returns to the morgue. The others blink and moan or swear. “No doubt they will be investigating the contents of the box while she is away and possibly the others in that room as well.”

“Back in the early days they would reuse folders and envelopes.” McGee says slowly. The others nod. “And never threw them out because they could still be used?” Kasie asks. Nods again.

Stunned look and brays of laughter greet her explanation of why she's back so early. “Sounds like government nonsense.”

“I should expect to have them make a special trip to have them disposed of?” Pieter asks.'

“More than one, they were so wore out that the folders just tore open on me. And the envelopes had been reused as well.”

Director Vance is waiting for Amidala when she returns to NCIS. “Start a new room, we're still going through the box and will probably be making a special trip out Friday to get rid of all that shit.” he says. She nods in understanding and joins Kasie and Tony at the elevator.

“The folders and envelopes were empty?” Kasie shakes her head in dismay.

“And old, used and reused for years probably. They were covered in crossed out or erased names and case file numbers, falling apart as I opened them. They were probably never thrown out because, we're the US government, we might use these again someday.”

Tony nods. “Especially in smaller offices where the budget for supplies didn't stretch that far. That's what I do miss about being Agent Afloat, so much more of this was electronic because they didn't have the room to store everything.”

Security nods at her as she walks down the hallway, looking in she sees a bucket brigade of people grabbing files and folders from the box, checking them and tossing them in bags that go in a cart.

“Need me to start on the room off my office so I'm not in the way?”

“No, you won't be coming down the hall but twice a day and we can get out of your way.” The man in charge says. The elevator bings behind them and more people come rushing down the hall. And moaning or swearing.

“So that's it.” She says at break. “They're working down the hall checking everything that was in the box and possibly the others. I am working on the next room and finally feel like I am making some progress again.”

Pieter moans at the seemingly unending bags of folders and manila envelopes that are being brought out bucket brigade style and tossed in the replicator, the bags being handed back. “And this is just a portion of the box. We're nowhere near done with it and haven't started on the others yet. I don't know whether to be upset or glad if they're full of junk too.”

The box is finally emptied two weeks later and the last of the bad files and envelopes tossed in the replicator at the Embassy. Taking a deep breath a person climbs on the pile to push against the top box with his feet to slide it off the bottom one, the others grabbing the sides as they're exposed and pulling it onto the floor.

The sound of swearing has Amidala looking up from the computer in her office. “Not my concern.” She tells herself firmly. “Though I don't doubt other agencies are now looking through their own back rooms or storage areas to make sure what is being found is actually items that needed to be saved.”

The others agree with her thinking at their morning break, agreeing that the government never threw anything out that they didn't have to.”

“I never asked my dear, but what do you do about mail?”

“A driver comes once a week from the post office to deliver it after it is scanned for threats. Not that there's that much since most of our communications is electronic, formal or otherwise. Outgoing mail is handled by whoever's away from the embassy at the time.”

“Wish the hell NCIS took similar precautions.” Tony says sourly. The others pat him on the arms or shoulders and Amidala realizes that he must be talking about the incident that damaged his lungs.

“How long did the damn agency hang onto this shit?” Director Vance asks as another truck of recycling makes a special trip to the Danbury Estates embassy.

“Lord only knows. I think they just threw whatever they didn't need in another building in a not my problem anymore move and things got buried. It's only now that all the agencies have to sort through millions of files they never realized they had that things are coming out.”

“And people just moved it around again instead of looking through everything because . ...not my job.” The SECNAV says. “All the other agencies and bases are finding piles of shit that should have been got rid of years ago. Thank god for Danbury Estates recycling all this shit.” A tap on the door has them turning to look as Commander Bud Roberts walks into the room. He salutes and SECNAV tells him as he were. If you didn't know the man had lost a leg you wouldn't know it from his gait.

“How is JAG coming along?”

“Well, we didn't have all the backlog of cases the other agencies did.” He says. “We still did a lot of cleaning and found junk everywhere.”

“Out of sight, out of mind.”

“Yes sir. We emptied three rooms in the sub-basement that haven't been used in years. If not decades. Despite the whining of fools who thought it might be useful some day. And thank you Director Vance for allowing us to piggyback off your trucks when you take your stuff out for recycling.”

“You keep ahead on your files being moved to the servers and don't keep moving stuff pillar to post until somebody finally opens the box and realizes it could have been got rid of decades ago.” SECNAV says. Vance nods. “We had to make multiple special trips out when we realized those big boxes meant nothing to put the completed files in as they were scanned, it wasn't that big a hardship to stop to pick up yours as well.”

“Okay, what plans do we have this weekend?” Amidala asks back at the hotel.

“The local animal shelter is holding a fundraiser in the embassy building, they really need to work on their building.”

Amidala nods. “Local businesses and others have donated items for an auction after the meal.” Amidala walks back to the hotel after the dinner with the few items she'd purchased in the auction, security smiling and locking the doors behind her. The local animal shelter is a favorite charity for them and they've adopted multiple animals as well as donated money to them as well as supplies.

The next day the group comes out to clean the building after the dinner since it had been so late the night before, setting everything back to right. The temporary code they'd been given to access the building those two days is removed from the system after the building is inspected by security.

Meanwhile a couple of trucks arrive at the embassy, parking by the replicator building and starting to bundle boxes and bags into the building.

“Is that everything for now?” Monica asks when Pieter comes in from locking the doors and seeing them off.

“I believe so. This was a mixture of the old folders and envelopes nobody realized was still around, case files that are being put on the server, and what Amidala has been working on.”

“How long do you see them still making special trips out?”

“Through the end of the year. They're still working on the first box on the other side of that room and there's five more boxes after that.” Amidala says. “I can't believe that fool filling the boxes didn't realize the files and envelopes were empty.”

“He wasn't being paid to think.”

“And he doesn't do it for free either?” somebody chuckles.

“Sounds about right.”

“How is the embassy? I understand you had an event last weekend.” Ducky asks at the morning break.

“Local humane society rented the building for a fundraising dinner and live auction.” She says absently, yawning. “Is it just me or is this been a cold, wet spring?”

“Not just you. People are blaming it on everything from Climate change, a supervillain plot to make us miserable to buying the wrong brand of toilet paper and everything in between.” Jimmy says. “People were complaining about my gas guzzler truck until they realized I got better mileage than their small economy car since I could get everything I needed in one trip.”

Amidala snickers. “Yes my dear, I am very aware you have excellent gas mileage because your vehicle doesn't take gasoline, it runs off the power source at your embassy and never needs recharging.” Ducky says dryly.

“No actually, I was thinking about all the extra trips NCIS has had to make to recycle all this shit and wonder if the so-called experts would say the recycling was reducing their carbon footprint.”

“I'd say they'd be more pleased that this . . .dreck is being recycled and despite the fact that the bags themselves are only half-full, the truck itself is full.” Ducky says dryly.

Mel is waiting for her when she returns to the embassy and she stares at her. “No, it's good news. We've located three planets and five dimensions we can move to. Right now the scientists are looking at the climate of the dimensions for at least a year and making plans for both growing and scientific bases. It will be a few decades but we're looking at the start of our colonies.”

“They did tell us that the 21st century was a time of change.”

“Yes.”

“Do they know yet if any of the dimensions have solar systems of their own?”

“That's something they're going to be investigating.” Mel says “Probes in orbit, manned satellites, and possibly in the future space ships.”

Amidala pulls Tony, Ducky, and Jimmy into her office and lays a device on the her desk. “Yes, that will block any cameras and recording devices for ten minutes. You three need to start thinking of what you want to do in the future. We will always need doctors but. . . “ she looks at Tony. Who simply nods. “Now, the reason I am bringing this up now. We have found three planets and five dimensions where we will be starting scientific and agricultural bases on in the next couple of decades.”

The three men sigh and nod. “Gibbs ignores it, but the mandatory retirement age for a NCIS agent is 57. I'm going to be hitting that sooner than I like to think.” The others sigh but nod. “Okay, another question. Kasie and McGee.”

“I don't hate him, hate him. Not anymore anyway. He's pulling himself up by his jockstrap. But he's got to learn more skills, He's a one trick pony when it comes to his computers and thinks it's be all, end all there. Now Kasie, I can see being interested. Not Gibbs though, he doesn't have the right mindset.”

“I don't know, he's got more depths than you think and I have the feeling he's looking at leaving NCIS. Like you said, mandatory retirement is 57. He's well past that.” The others nod. The device beeps and she tosses it back in her purse. “Anyway, as I was saying we're going to be having both the outside gardens and expanding the hydroponics growing areas.” she says as the door rattles and opens. “Let me know if you guys want to come out and pick tomatoes, peppers, corn. . .”

“Are you growing extra because of the bad weather we've been having?” Ducky asks as Director Vance comes into the room.

“Yes, we're used to our growing seasons in Danbury Estates and every year's growing season has been different here. I'd like to know what to expect in case we have to expand the crops. . .again.”

“You and every other farmer and home gardener.” Director Vance says, rolling his eyes. “That's all you hear about at the local community garden is complaints about the weather and what if anything they'll be able to grow this year.

“Oh Amidala, do you have any wool yarn from the sheep and other livestock from Danbury estates?” Ducky asks.

“Tons, along with some yarn we've purchased from animals here. Let me know what colors you want and I'll bring it out. Nothing better to keep your feet warm in slightly loose boots than proper hand knitted socks. But then you have to wash them by hand. Otherwise they shrink horribly.”

Ducky makes a sound and waves a hand. “Leave them to soak in a pail and hand wash them. Wring them out by hand and toss them over the shower rod or door to dry. They last much better than those you find in the stores six pairs to a bag. And it's a nice relaxing hobby after a long day at work.”

“You knit Dr. Mallard?”

“Of course, back when I was a lad we all knit socks for the boys on the front lines. Thankfully I was too young to be one of those poor souls during world war II and after medical school I was kept back with the other doctors behind the battle lines.”

“Is anything you were really talking about going to cause an international incident?” Director Vance asks dryly after the others have left and he's helping her fill the cart for today's work.

“Only eggs on certain faces when they realize a small country nobody has heard about has. . .gotten a leg up on your NASA and has serious plans for their own space colonies?” She asks with a smirk.

“Nope, none of my damn business then.” He says with a quick nod of his head. “Not the first time NASA has ended up with egg on its face since they are doing nothing in the space program anymore.”

The news explodes all over the airwaves less than a week later, that a small European country most people never even heard of not only has their own space program but have found worlds and other dimensions they plan to colonize. And have all the data to prove it. People quickly get up in arms trying to take them and are told to grow the fuck up and get a life. Attention then turns to NASA and serious questions of why aren't we doing the same thing is asked. And can't be answered.

“NASA has been resting on their laurels for years. Hell, the Russians not only got Sputnik first they have the space satellite.” Kasie says in disgust. “NASA has all these plans and yeah, they've been getting satellites and space telescopes out but manned missions? Exploring new planets? Pfft.” The others nod in agreement, all but Ducky who is calmly knitting a sock from the yarn Amidala had brought him the other day.

“Are you actually trying to do anything other than making plans?” The president asks the head of NASA later that day. He puffs up for a moment to start with the platitudes he has been spouting since the news was verified but the 'don't give me that shit' look from the president has him slumping in his chair. “No sir, we have ideas but no actual plans. This news caught us with our pants down.”

“Why haven't you made an effort to come up with realistic plans?”

“It's not that easy sir.” The president gives him a disgusted look. “If goddamn billionaires can have their own spaceships and take people into orbit, why not NASA?”

“Frankly sir, all the people who worked hard to make Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo possible have died and with no current space programs on the books, they weren't replaced. That's why people like Musk, Jeff Bezos, and Richard Branson get all the attention.”

“They're getting the attention because they're actually doing the damn job.” The President snorts. The head of NASA looks sullen a second but has to drop his head in agreement. “If your agency made a damn effort to try to do something you might be able to hire people interested in space.”

“Sir, the loss of Challenger and Columbia. . . “

“Was tragic, yes, but not the be all end all. Life goes on, that should have been the kick in the ass you needed to revamp the program so nothing like that happened again.”

The president tears down every excuse the head of NASA tries to give and leaves him nearly blubbering. “And I want to see some real plans, not blubbering attempts to make yourself look good. We are supposedly to be a first world country and we got shown up by a place most of the United States has never heard of. Yes, going back to the moon is out since the Justice League have their base there and Mars is the home of the Martian Manhunter but there's the other planets. But the first thing yo have to do is design a functional spaceship for longer trips. Months or even years. No more short hops around the planet.” He starts to complain and the President holds up a hand. “I.don't.want.to.hear.it.” He says slowly. “If you need to build a satellite in space where the larger ships can be built, make the plans. If you need to figure out a better power source, make the plans. You need to figure out how to grow food in space and how much will be needed on a trip to another planet, however long you intend to be there, and back to Earth.”

“Fucking moron.” The president says in disgust when the fool runs off wailing about how everybody is being mean to him. “Do we have anybody who can take over NASA and turn them around?”

“Unfortunately no, the agency has been on life support ever since the Columbia explosion and hasn't made an effort to turn their attention to new things. This is just bringing their shortcomings to a head.”

“Okay, do we know where the Danbury Estates Ambassador is?”

“Where she normally is, working ten hour days at NCIS trying to get that fucking mess of old case files they've been finding all over DC scanned into the system. More than NCIS has hired people specifically for that purpose, they were just the first.”

One of the men in the room does a spectacular spit take, the man across from him giving him an et tu Brute look as he dabs at the water as the other man coughs. “Amidala? Amidala Amderson, the queen of I don't give a shit is the Ambassador?” He finally chokes out.

“Ummm, yes?” Another man says quietly. The first man starts cackling. “I take it from his reaction she's not likely to be agreeable to the fool coming whining to her demanding they hand over everything to NASA?”

“Amidala will kick his ass up around his shoulders without pausing in whatever she's doing. Not that any of the others would let him get that far to annoy her. You'd be finding the fool being tossed out of a car being told to keep him on a leash.”

“Do you think she knows anything about the space program in her country?”

“She sure the fuck would, I have no doubt that she and her cousin Maleficent are right in the middle of it. They're both Sparks, I'm sure half the shit involved in the program was created by one or the other of them, if not both.”

“Sparks don't work together.” A man down the table says pompously. How dare this upstart act like he knows what he's talking about.

“Bull fucking shit. That's one of the biggest lies told about Sparks in an attempt to dehumanize them. The girls are cousins, grew up together, and have been working together for years. They've got several dozen patents each and just as many the two of them have worked on together.”

“What about Luthor?”

“What about the egomaniac? He's not a Spark.”

“Are. . .are you sure?”

“Yeah, he's never been a Spark. He's one of them who looks his nose down on them but would be more than happy to steal anything they created. He might be a genius but he's not a Spark. It comes naturally for Sparks.”

Amidala signs in at NCIS, not surprised to find Director Vance waiting for her arrival on the catwalk. “Understand you had a little excitement?” Kasie and McGee pause in their tracks and look at her. She rolls her eyes.

“Some bloody fool from NASA tried demanding all of our information and space ships be given to him because they haven't done a bloody thing in years and the President . . .I believe the American saying is chewed him a new asshole for not doing his bloody job? He's sobbing that he can't bring in the best and brightest anymore, then had to admit that yes, their having no firm plans or even ideas might be the cause of people going elsewhere.”

“Yeah, if that goddamn fool Musk can launch his own rockets why isn't NASA getting off their asses.”

“Let alone the two guys in a dick measuring contest about being the first to have a civilian spaceship go into space.” Someone else snorts.

“I can just imagine a crime scene in space.” Gibbs mutters.

“Already happened.” Everybody turns to look at the speaker. “It happened in Miami a few years ago. One of those space planes that move around, not just go up and come back down. Meteorite got a hose supplying their air and they shot one of the guys in an airlock to conserve the air until they could return. My cousin works in their crime lab and passed the story along.”

“Why the hell didn't they just return immediately and not have to worry about conserving air?” Vance asks dryly. “That's something the President wanted NASA working on, plans for an extended space trip to another planet, not just orbiting Earth. He's not happy at the supposedly best and brightest being shown up by a country not many people knew existed before the announcement.”

“Which is something we are looking into as well. I didn't know the fool had tried ramming the gates to talk to me since I was busy working on blueprints for the next step in our space program.”

“Next step?”

“Our first step was small one man ships. The second step was larger vehicles but were still meant to be explorers. Our third step was again one man vehicles, but they were meant to be harvesting asteroids in the belt for materials to make larger ships. This next step is larger vehicles and satellites in orbit where they will be put together.” The others nod. “Unlike NASA our space program is always planning for the future.”

“NASA is like one of those school jocks trying to relive the glory days because they haven't done a damn thing with their lives.” McGee snorts. Nods and laughter from everybody not even pretending they weren't both waiting for Amidala to arrive and listening in on the conversation.

“I'd ask if you're stupid, but your actions fucking proved it. What the hell did you think would happen when you went screaming to the Embassy demanding they hand over their space program to you? Moron.”

“But we're NASA.” he blubbers.

“No, you're a damn fool.” He snorts. “An unemployed damn fool now.” The former head of NASA stares at him at horror. “I told you to start turning your agency around and actually planning on new space missions, not try to steal the hard work of another country.”

He runs off wailing his life is over.

“Goddamn moron, do we have anybody to take it over?” The president sighs at a meeting later that day.

“Yes, three former astronauts who left the agency when they started coasting instead of actually doing any work. They're already making plans and asking for results from the people still at the agency and if they don't see them, they're out.”

“They don't produce, they deserve to be out. We had to do the same thing with other agencies, why should NASA be the exception. This,” he waves a hand at the news station still showing footage from Danbury Estates's spaceships. “Was the kick in the ass most of them needed to actually start working again.”

The others in the room nod, they've had to do the same with their own businesses or agencies to turn them around.

The fool tries to go running to the media wailing about how it wasn't fair that he'd been fired but video of him trying to ram the gates screaming that they have to turn over the county's space program to him has everybody calling him a goddamn fool who should have been shot for being too stupid to live and he blubbers again everybody is being mean to him. And looks so hurt when somebody yells at him to find somebody who cares.

Meanwhile at NASA people are being called into the big office and asked about their work. Most of them had actually been excited about their work and they quickly get told good job, some are given hints at other directions they might branch out into, and some are quickly shown the door because they were part of the good old boy network and didn't have anything to show for their paychecks.

“Fucking morons, they should have been shown the door years ago if we had somebody actually competent in charge.”

“So many people left after Columbia and the death knell of the shuttle program.”

“The shuttle program was decades old by then, they should have been working on different space ship designs before then. Especially after Challenger instead of coasting along.”

The other two men nod. “Okay, do we really need to talk to support personnel who have nothing to do with the space program?”

“We should, just so we can find out if they need anything to do their jobs. I wouldn't put it past that fool to have cut corners on areas he didn't feel necessary so he'd have more money.”

And they're sad to find out that's the truth. From mops and brooms that should have been replaced years ago to having to dilute cleaning supplies with tap water to make them last longer.

“Christ, thank god we don't have any space programs running. I'd hate to see what that bastard would have done there.” One of them mutters.

The others nod.

The news makes its way to all the federal agencies and the fool who'd only thought people were being mean to him before realizes just in much trouble he really is now. Because he can't explain where that extra money went to.

In his own pocket is snorted by more than one person. Or his butt buddies he kept around as yes men is said by others.

Amidala sighs as she takes the last of the boxes out of the room she's working in, not at all surprised to find Director Vance walking down the hallway. He nods in satisfaction at the now empty room. He looks at her and she points at the next room and he nods as he walks down the hall to see the progress in the other room. They'd finished one box and were working one the next one. More than one person had asked how much shit had been saved but the bags were going out half-full of envelopes, folders, and other stuff to be recycled.

“How much more of this shit is there?” Director Vance asks as people continue working and the cart of half-full bags is replaced by another one. Instead of going up to a room now they're put in a truck to be sent off when its full.

“Fifteen more boxes, who knows what is in them. I really don't want to think about how much crap the agency hung onto.” One of the men working says. The others nod as they keep working. A woohoo is heard as the last of the box is emptied and they drag it out into the hallway to be taken off.

“Take a break people, nothing there that can't wait until next week.” Director Vance says. “I'd say you earned a couple days off. I'm seeing the damn envelopes and folders in my dreams and I'm not working with them all day.”

“Hey, did Amidala finish that other room?”

“She was taking the last boxes out as I walked down here.”

“Good, I know she's glad to actually seeing some progress after finishing two of these boxes. I know how she feels.” One of the workers snorts. The others all nod. “You're not the only ones seeing these damn folders and envelopes in their dreams.”

“More like nightmares, you finish the room and find another door full of more boxes. Oh wait, that's what Amidala is actually going through because as soon as she empties a room we have to refill it because the government keeps finding more 'lost' files.” One of the maintenance men snorts. The others laugh but nod.

“And fools are wondering why the warehouses aren't being emptied as fast as they want.” Director Vance says in disgust. “One of them came running here and was stunned to find an entire fucking floor full of boxes being worked on one room at a time. He ran off sobbing he didn't know we already had so many boxes of files here to work on. He. . .he guesses that it's okay the damn warehouses aren't being emptied as fast as he'd like.”

“How magnanimous of him.” One of the security guards drawls. “Jerk.”

“But we're not making him look good.” Another one drawls as they walk down the hallway. Director Vance opens the door of Amidala's office, getting a look at him over her glasses. “I just gave the others the rest of the week off since they finished that third box.”

Amidala smiles and repeats the news when Jimmy looks down the hallway after tapping on her door for break. “I can understand that. Gods knows they've been emptying those boxes for months. If that one box was over 200,000 folders, the others had be even more full.”

The others nod in the morgue. “I know everybody is clearing out their personal areas after seeing all those files and envelopes in those boxes.”

“And it's long overdue.” Ducky says calmly. The others nod. “Even here in the building there are closets that haven't been fully emptied and sorted out in decades. I'm sad to say I had to give ours a good going over as well”

“Same here,” Kasie says. “I took the lab over from Abby and did a good cleaning and sorting but things pile up, especially when supplies are ordered automatically so you're still using the old stuff when the new stuff arrives.”

“Would ordering it when you need it work better?”

“No, they tried that and couldn't get it in fast enough.” Gibbs sighs. “You weren't here yet McGee but Ducky can tell you the horror stories about people counting out how many pieces of paper you were supposed to have that day and god forbid if you went over and had to get more. You had to take it with you to show why you needed it.”

“Oh yes, the woman in charge of supplies at that time was an absolute Harridan.” Ducky says with a chuckle. “I sometimes wonder if all the crap we're finding now is from her time since the woman insisted on everything being used, used again, and so on until it couldn't be used anymore.”

“And this was from the time before computers so everybody was using typewriters. Unless you double and triple checked every key you touched you easily ruined a piece of paper. That's why so many older agents keep checking between the screen and keyboard even though they can go back and correct mistakes before printing a document.

McGee shakes his head, he grew up with computers. But he has to admit, he can still find mistakes in stuff he's sent to the printer because he was distracted or too sure of his own importance.

Amidala silently nods.

“And that's why Tony always double-checked everybody's reports. How many times did he find a problem with yours?”

“Too often boss, I was in too big of a hurry or didn't bother to look. I thought I knew everything and let Ziva, Abby, and Director Sheppard lead me around by the nose. It's only when Tony left and I got into so much trouble with my book that I had to grow up.”

Gibbs looks at him and nods in satisfaction. “And don't forget it.”

“I won't boss.” Gibbs looks at him. “I'll try to remember boss.”

“See that you do. We won't be around forever to pull your ass from the fire you caused with your own stupidity.”

“And for gods sake, expand your horizons a little. You're a one trick pony when it comes to computers, you bring nothing to the team otherwise.” Tony says in disgust. “You worked with the other teams and didn't pick up any other skills?”

“And you do?” He says absently. Then slumps. Dammit, he's trying not to do this. He slumps further when Tony and Gibbs snort and begin listing off all his credentials. “There's plenty of classes at fletc available online you can dl and watch at home to expand your horizons without getting a degree. Just resting on your laurels is stupid, NASA case in point. They got caught with their pants down and their ass blowing in the wind because they didn't fucking expand their horizons. Yes, Columbia was the end for the space shuttle program but they were 25 years old, in that time somebody should have been working on something new. Let alone the nearly 20 years after that.”

“Indeed.”

“That's why you see so many old agents coasting along in out of the way offices, they don't want to learn anything and are just counting the days until they have to retire.”

“And most of the time it's they have to retire, not that they want to retire.” Gibbs snorts. “Because they don't have a life outside work.”

Amidala leans back in the passenger seat on the flight home, bone tired from the change in the weather.

She'd been yawning all afternoon and even without a window she'd known it was raining. She'd just nodded and summoned her car to the front of the building, getting in and flying off.

“How long is this supposed to last?”

“Three days, its another hurricane brushing us as it moves up the coast.” Monica sighs. “At least we won't have to water anything outside for a few days and the shield cuts down on the wind.”

“And it keeps the morons off the property who are only here to whine because we have a functional space program and NASA has been resting on their laurels for years. Now they look like the fools they are and they're sulking. And whining to their friends who are sure we're lying even slapped upside the head with the proof.”

“Of course, because nobody but them should be allowed in space. Never mind Richard Branson, Jeff Bezos, and that idiot Elon Musk have been doing it for years.”

“But they don't count, they're not another country.” Pieter mock blubbers. “Idiots. Go try telling the Soviet Union they shouldn't have a space program, see if you get any more satisfaction than you do with us.”

“Any problems?”

“Not when federal agents arrested the ones who would not take no for an answer. Including that fool, the former head of NASA.”

“Oooooohhhhh, from what Horace said the President was not happy with his actions. The fool blubbered they couldn't bring in new blood because they went elsewhere but there was no new projects that would want people to come to NASA.” The others nod. “The saying is gotta spend money to make money.”

“And you need to plan for the future.”

“What the fuck is this?” A man asks the next week opening the box and holding up a page of. .. . something.

“Christ, is that copy paper? I haven't seen that in years.”

“Copy paper?”

“Carbon paper?” somebody else asks. “Fuck, that hasn't been used since the agency got rid of typewriters.”

“Carbon paper, you wrote on this?”

“No, it was slipped between two pieces of paper so you could make a copy as you typed something. If you made sure you had it facing the right way, otherwise it was on the back of the piece of paper you were typing on.”

“Thank you fucking god that I joined the agency after that.”

“Can this be recycled?”

“Doubt it.” He holds the sheet up to the light. “Christ, is this used carbon paper?” a moan from the doorway is Director Vance. “Let me ask Amidala. If not, separate it into another bag for disposal.”

“Carbon paper? I haven't heard of that being used in decades. No, it's not recyclable. Put it in another bag and we'll dispose of it like we do the rest of the garbage.” Amidala asks down the hall where's she'd filling her cart. She detours past the room and shakes her head.

“At least the folders and envelopes weren't empty in this one.”

“Not helping, that's just more work as we sort through this shit as recycle and garbage.”

“Carbon paper?” Ducky asks incredulously at the morning break. “Dear god, how old must the stuff in that new box be if there's carbon paper in it?”

“Used carbon paper at that.” Director Vance moans from the doorway. Ducky facepalms. “Good heavens, I haven't thought of that in years.

“What. . .?” Pieter asks when a truck and van arrive at the Embassy.

“This is all garbage, Amidala said you could take care of it.” The man driving the van says at his bags.

“What is it?”

“Used carbon paper, dried up typewriter ribbons. . .nothing that can be recycled.” Pieter shakes his head. “How much?”

“Five bags.”

“Bring it in and we'll dispose of it before the recycling.” Pieter sighs. He starts typing on the replicator and the bags are dragged in. “Okay, ready to go.” The bags are opened and dumped in and he shakes his head. “Yes, we wonder why all this shit was saved. It's all been used, it's not like it's new. It's been used and used hard.”

Pieter shakes his head again as he resets the replicator and nods, the recycling being dumped in over the next two hours bucket brigade style.

“And there's still fourteen more boxes after this?”

“Yep.” one of the maintenance men sighs.

Ducky walks down the hallway, Amidala's door opening and a man come running out with Director Vance following him. Director Vance nods and opens the door again. “Dr. Mallard's here.” Amidala walks out of her office looking totally innocent. He doesn't believe that look in the least.

“What did you do now?” He asks.

“Did the fool go running off?”

“Yes, Director Vance caught up with him at the elevator.”

“Little fool told me if I smiled more I might get ahead in life.”

“So you gave him that creepy look of yours that makes the rumors about Sparks look to be the truth and that you're going to eat his soul? With or without ketchup?” Ducky asks in amusement.

“Indeed.” Amidala purrs.

Jimmy shakes his head when he hears the story. “You're a billionaire in your own right, I sincerely doubt you even touch the money you're making from the government, you're an Ambassador, and the fool told you if you smiled more you might get ahead in life? Idiot.”

“Always going to be fools who think they're all that.”

“And leave them the fuck alone.” The boss of the fool who'd come running out of the room bellows. “What the Hell did you think you were going to do getting involved in the matter? It's none of your damn business what she does.”

“But she's only a file clerk.” he whines.

“Who happens to be a fucking billionaire in her own right, the Ambassador from her country, and guaranteed decades of work since NCIS is finding millions if not billions of old case files that were just shoved everybody over the years.”

“She's somebody important?” He whimpers.

“Yeah idiot, she's somebody important.” Unlike you is unsaid but clearly heard. “Now go do your goddamn job and stop bothering people. The entire goddamn second floor of NCIS is full of boxes of case files or other crap people are sorting through and throwing away or recycling. And yes it is crap,” He says at the other man's opening mouth. “We're talking goddamn dried up ribbons from typewriters, used sheets of copy paper. . . Shit that was moved pillar to post for probably decades and anybody with a brain who looked at them would have said would never be needed.”

He runs off sobbing like his heart is breaking.

“Goddamn moron. Why the fuck is he here in the first place?”

“His daddy's cousin is a senator. From before they had term limits and got him this job. He's miserable he doesn't have the power he thinks he should.” Somebody snorts and the fleeing man honest to god stops in his tracks and pouts. Everybody gives him a disgusted look and he skulks off. He knows he never made any friends here and nobody will support him in his actions trying to tell others what to do anywhere else.

“Fucking moron.”

Pieter and the others sigh or laugh when she returns to the Embassy. Always going to be fools. A dog pushes his head under her hand and she automatically pets him then realizes. . .

“Well, hello, you're new here aren't you?”

“Yes, the local humane society brought him over because he was overlooked thanks to . . .” Monica waves a hand and she's sad to see he's missing a leg. “Nobody cares here.” The others nod.

Nobody is surprised when the fool is arrested for drunk and disorderly a couple days later wailing everybody was being mean to him by not kissing his ass. He's tossed in a drunk tank to sober up because nobody will take responsibility for him and when he does sober up he's told to grow the fuck up by the judge. “Nobody cares about your opinion and the fact you got royally drunk because nobody will do what you want just proves you're a miserable human being. Grow up and leave other people alone. Or find yourself under conservatorship.”

He gulps silently. Conservatorship will have people telling him what to do, not the other way around. And he can't have that.

Moron is the kindest thing said about him when he quietly makes his way into work. And is summarily shown back out as having been fired for being arrested for drunk and disorderly. . Again... He tries to sue NCIS and Amidala for getting him arrested and is laughed out of the lawyer's office. He ends up drinking himself to death for the disgrace of not being able to bully anybody anymore and nobody misses the old fool.

“At least the goddamn moron had prepaid his burial so nobody else had to be out the money.”

“Well yah, if he didn't pay for it himself he wouldn't have the magnificent funeral he wanted.” Another person snorts. “Of course everybody would flock to his casket sobbing at his loss. People were flocking to his casket to make the the little bastard was actually in it.”

Nods from everybody else in the room.

His doctor gives the officer a disinterested look. “No, he's been an alcoholic for years. This last arrest wasn't his first and he was told repeatedly to stop drinking because his liver was destroyed from years of abuse.”

“So his rambling letter trying to claim somebody had forced all the booze down his throat and left him to die?”

“Oh dear god, that again? He's done this at least three times previously before he became my patient. He was put under psychiatric care the first time, the second time he spent time in a mental hospital, and the third time he went under conservatorship.”

The officer nods. “He was facing it if he got arrested for drunk and disorderly again. He also got fired from his job for the arrest.”

“No doubt why he tried that nonsense again.”

“Dear god, did we really have to investigate that nonsense?” His superior officer asks in disgust. He gives a new lieutenant a disgusted look. He's not the only one. His own boss is giving him a similar look and he realizes his big case was nothing more than the ramblings of a miserable little fool trying one last time to destroy somebody else to make himself look the victim.

Amidala slumps onto the couch in the morgue, waving a hand at the others. “I was invited to some nonsense to commemorate the reopening of the other embassies. Too much rich food, too much annoying talk, and too many drunk fools bothering me. I liked it better when everybody looked down on us before the news of our space program broke. Director Vance and some others were there too and we exchanged 'is this over yet' looks most of the night.”

“Yes, yes we did.” He sighs from the door of the morgue. “And we were just as annoyed as you were. But sometimes you have to schmooze when you're the boss.”

“I remember very well my Aunt's 'oh thank god that nonsense is over, somebody help me out of this damn dress so I can relax' outbursts after she's had to attend parties with my uncle. My father would usually be there as well as my uncle's senior guard and my mother would watch both myself and my cousin.”

“Are you okay?”

“Tired, the party did not end until after two and by the time I got back it was time to get a two hour power nap and get ready for work.” Director Vance nods. “Same thing here. I slept on the couch in my office since it was closer.”

“My dear, that's not good.”

“No worse than long nights in an emergency.” Amidala says, waving a hand. “I'll sleep tonight. I have got to figure out Mel's trick of sleeping with my eyes open that she uses to survive these infernal dinners.” she mutters under her breath. Jimmy snickers. “Yes, especially if you're invited to any more of them.”

“I will shoot somebody.” She says fervently.

“Okay,” Amidala asks around a yawn after dinner when she calls a meeting. “I'm going to make this quick. Maintenance and Security.” She looks at the heads who stiffen and look at her. “Do we need extra personnel now that people know we have a space program?”

“I can see a military group coming out.” Another person says slowly. “We have the units that we can trigger the shields in an incident, there's also that long driveway before you get to the gates so we know somebody's coming.” Nods from the others. “Things are quiet now but I'd like to have extra personnel in case of an emergency.”

“Yes, but I also think that none of us want to live in an armed camp.” Everybody nods. “Two more people per shift? For maintenance, Security, and the cooks?”

“We can work with that.”

“And we can call in a military group in case the shit hits the fan, with the portal it will only take a few minutes once the alert goes out.”

“Weapons?”

“I'd like to get a larger supply to have on hand. Yes, they can bring their own but if it's a drop everything and run here moment that will take up precious seconds unless they have weapons and go bags of ammunition on hand.” The others nod again. “Okay, cooks.” She looks at the head of the group. “If we do get in more personnel, both now and in the future, are we going to have to order extra?”

“No, I already plan for double the number of people a fully-staffed embassy would need when I order.” She says. The others nod. “But I do see the need to expand hydroponics.” Amidala nods. “Mel is coming out this weekend with the supplies, we'd already planned on putting units in the rooms on both sides and possibly expanding it to the rest of the building in the future. Now, the vat-raised meat? We've been going back and forth on whether we need to right now or wait. The one problem with expanding the meat is adding a second field of soy beans.” The others nod. “And with how different each year was for growing crops, I'd rather have a few more years experience we can tell what kind of year it's going to be and adjust the crops as needed.”

“I do have a question.” Monica asks. Amidala looks at her. “What if. . .god forbid the Duke changes his mind and replaces you as the Ambassador?”

Amidala chuckles. “I own the land, he'd have to both find land and build an embassy. A real embassy. If anybody wanted to switch they could but you'd have to find your own lodgings. Unless the land was large enough to build an apartment complex for the embassy staff.”

“Which is one of the reasons the Embassy is here?” Nods from the others. “Now unless things go south at NCIS, I would still be working there so this would still be my home. Once that is over, we will see if things change.”

“We don't really need an embassy.”

“No, nor a consulate. But the former president thought it beneath him to deal with a private citizen.”

“We're here as Amidala's support staff, not Embassy personnel.” Somebody says after Amidala has headed up to bed. The others nod.

The next morning a cold shower wakes her up and the cooks look at her as she fills her tray for breakfast. She's yawning but it's spitting rain and everybody is yawning.