FORTY | family

                                    

                                          
"Well, good morning to me." His tongue darts out to wet his lips. "Is it Christmas already? Because Santa knew exactly what I wanted."
                          
I roll my eyes, insistently tugging on the end of my skirt. "Everything else is at the dry cleaner's, and it's the only thing I could find on short notice."
                          
"Hey." Tony throws his arms to the side. "I am not complaining. Not one bit." His eyes hungrily rake over my exposed figure.
                          
"Would you quit gawking at me like some sort of animal?" I hit him across the shoulder with the back of my hand.
                          
"Come on. We better head up to attend the stupid sensitivity training." His fingertips skim the small of my back. "And is there something wrong with me wanting to enjoy the sight of my beautiful girlfriend?"
                          
Lost in thought, I answer. "I suppose not." And I kiss his cheek.
                          
"Double homicide at Quantico. Marine wives." Gibbs enters the bullpen, blocking our path. "Grab your gear. Sensitivity training's gonna have to wait."
                          
Once his back is turned to us, Tony and I silently high-five at the tragic yet well-timed case.
                          
"Today, people!"
                          
The crime scene. . .horrific, to say the least. Blood is splattered against the couch and the wall behind it. Tony's in charge of pictures, Ziva and McGee check the rest of the house — inside and out. Jimmy and Ducky examine the bodies, and Gibbs waits for an update from them.
                          
I, however, am left with the woman who found the bodies.
                          
And her infant.
                          
"It's alright, kid. I know exactly how you're feeling." I sway my body side to side, her little head pressed against the crook of my neck. "Sometimes you just have to. . .cry it out."
                          
Fortunately, her painful cries have softened to whimpers every so often. Her mother, Yoon Dawson, struggles to find the bottle and formula buried inside a diaper bag.
                          
"Do you mind if I ask you a few. . ." From the other room, I see Tony walking around with his camera. Although, he stops as soon as he sees the baby in my arms.
                          
Mrs. Dawson waves a hand in front of my face. "Agent Giudice?"
                          
"Right." I clear my throat. "Do you mind explaining what happened while making her bottle?"
                          
"N-No." Her voice shakes, continuing her search for the bottle.
                          
I switch from swaying to bouncing up and down.
                          
"We were going into Koreatown shopping. I'm the only one with a car. Sun asked me to come pick them up." Her fingers slip as she tries to open the packet. "If we had been on time. . ."
                          
"Here." I take the packet in one hand and pass her the little girl. "I can make the formula, and you can continue talking."
                          
She takes over with tending to her daughter as I prepare the formula.
                          
"Sun's husband, do you know where he might be?"
                          
Mrs. Dawson shakes her head. "No. He's never here when we come over. I don't think he likes Sun having friends."
                          
I finish making the rest of the bottle, helping Mrs. Dawson with the burping rag before passing her the fresh bottle. Yoon's husband, Mr. Dawson, soon arrives to comfort his traumatized wife.
                          
Ziva finds empty shell casings in a safe in the master bedroom, which leads us to believe Sun's husband is the murderer.
                          
So we bring his drunk body into Interrogation.