Between Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Anthony DiNozzo and Ziva David and Timothy McGee and Abigail Sciuto and Dr. Donald "Ducky" Mallard as siblings.
The day began like any other at the Naval Criminal Investigative Service headquarters; a steady buzz of activity as agents poured over case files and the clatter of keyboards punctuated the early morning stillness. Gibbs strode through the bull pen with his customary coffee in hand, giving a brief nod to his team, each engrossed in their tasks.
Anthony DiNozzo looked up from his desk, a playful grin crossing his features. "You know, Boss, one of these days, I'm gonna switch out your coffee for decaf, just to see what happens," he teased.
Gibbs shot DiNozzo a look that could freeze coffee mid-sip. "You value your life, DiNozzo?" Gibbs replied dryly before turning his attention to Ziva David, who was quietly reviewing a file. "Anything on the Dennison case?"
Ziva looked up, her eyes serious. "No, Gibbs. It is as if he has vanished into thin air."
That's when Timothy McGee entered, slightly out of breath, a sheen of frantic energy about him. "Boss, we've got a situation. Another body has turned up. It's... it's exactly like the Roberts case from '09."
The team's concentration snapped to McGee. The Roberts case had been a brutal one, a perpetrator that had managed to evade capture and left a trail of victims that had haunted each of them.
As they all geared up, Gibbs' phone rang with a tone he had designated for only the most urgent of calls. The display read "Ducky," which meant it was either a medical emergency or something exceptional had been discovered in autopsy.
"Gibbs, my dear fellow, I believe it would be in your best interest to come down here this instant," came Dr. Mallard's solemn voice. There was a weight in those words that sent a shiver down Gibbs' spine.
Gibbs arrived in the morgue to find Ducky standing over a body, covered by a sheet. With a grave look, Ducky pulled the cover back, revealing a strikingly familiar face—one they hadn't seen for a long time, yet none of them had forgotten.
"This is impossible," Gibbs muttered.
"Unfortunately, Jethro, the impossible has a penchant for becoming possible," Ducky replied solemnly.
In the midst of trying to wrap their heads around the latest victim's identity, the team received a new piece of the puzzle. A young man was brought into the squad room—an FBI transfer to NCIS. His eyes, a haunting shade of blue, met Gibbs' with a discernible intensity.
"Agents, this is Special Agent Nicholas Hunter. He comes highly recommended from the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit," Director Vance announced.
As greetings were exchanged, Hunter's gaze lingered on Gibbs with an unspoken familiarity that did not go unnoticed by DiNozzo and Ziva.
It was at the end of the day, after exhausting field work and evidential dead ends, that Hunter asked to speak with Gibbs privately. "I think it's time you knew, there's more to my transfer here than professional reasons," Hunter said, his voice steady but fraught with emotion.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Gibbs asked, his tone guarded.
With the burden of years resting on his shoulders, Hunter handed Gibbs an aged, wrinkled photograph. It depicted a young woman, weary but smiling, cradling two infants in her arms. "That's our mother, Jethro... and we're the babies she's holding," Hunter revealed, a storm brewing in his eyes. "I'm your brother."
The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of the revelation crashing like waves in a tempest around the hardened NCIS team leader, leaving even Leroy Jethro Gibbs at a loss for words.