A/N: Another ficlet written for the NFA Help Haiti auction. This one was to star Stan Burley and Tim, Gibbs and/or Kate. Shockingly, I didn't use Tim. It's set in season 1/2. I didn't have a specific moment for it. The prompt was "landlubber". I've always liked Stan (and I enjoy having him pop up in other fics), and this was a chance to make use of a plot device I used in T.A.D. It's not canon, just my own interpretation of a conversation he and Gibbs had in High Seas back in season 1.
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS. I do not own the characters. I have not made a red cent off this (nor any other color).
Finding Place on a Cloudy Sea
by Enthusiastic Fish
"Hey, Gibbs. Nice of you to meet the ship," Stan said as he headed down the gangplank, carrying his duffel bags. "Not often I have someone waiting."
"I know. The director mentioned that you were supposed to meet with him."
Stan gave Gibbs a look. "So...you came here to give me a ride from Norfolk to DC?"
"Yeah."
"That's a long drive, Gibbs. What's up?"
"Thought that maybe you could use the company."
Stan gave Gibbs a sharp look, but he didn't say anything else, just took one of Stan's bags and walked off toward the parking lot. Stan watched him and then followed after.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"You heard about what happened, didn't you," Stan said about an hour into the drive back to DC. "That's why you made the trek."
"Yeah."
Stan nodded and then sighed. "That's what the meeting is about. I'm sure that I'll get in trouble for hiding it."
"Not necessarily. Morrow's a good guy."
"I know...but the fact remains that I knew I could get a panic attack at any time and hid it from my employers."
Gibbs smiled slightly. "You didn't hide it from me."
Stan laughed. "Well, I could hardly do that with you in my face every five seconds. ...but none of us ever made it official." He swallowed and then let it out. "Gibbs, I think I'm going to get fired."
"If Morrow does that, he's an idiot."
"Idiot or not, he's well within his rights to do it...and he might. The skipper wasn't too upset, but he still didn't like being kept in the dark about his Agent Afloat's medical condition."
"Maybe they'll just keep you from the program and put you on land somewhere."
"I think I'd rather be fired, to be honest. I like where I've been, Gibbs. I don't want to have to give that up."
"Would you quit?"
"I'd consider it."
Gibbs nodded and kept silent. Stan was happy enough to let the silence remain. It had been years since he'd had a panic attack. The last time had been when he'd been on Gibbs' team. ...well, and once or twice when he'd been promoted to a team leader. It had almost been as much of a surprise to him as to his shipmates when it had hit him so suddenly. A report had been filed, of course, and Director Morrow had ordered him to report to Headquarters as soon as the ship docked. He didn't actually say it to Gibbs, but Stan was scared...scared of losing the job he loved, afraid of being confined to dry land when the sea was what called to him most strongly.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"Man, I haven't been here for years," Stan said, staring around the bullpen.
"Wait a minute here, Stan, I have to talk with the director."
"It's no use, Gibbs," Stan shouted as Gibbs started up the stairs, but he just shook his head and dropped his duffel bag on the floor, hitching one hip on the nearest desk while he awaited his turn.
"Stan?"
Stan turned quickly, a little startled.
"Right? It is Stan."
"Kate...Todd, correct?" Stan asked, as he held out his hand.
Kate smiled and nodded, returning the handshake.
"Got it in one. What are you doing here? I thought you were somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic."
"Just put in this morning."
"Is that where Gibbs ran off to?" she asked. "I couldn't believe it when he left Tony in charge. What brings you here?"
"I have a meeting to discuss my future at NCIS."
"Oh, that doesn't sound good. What's up?"
Stan shrugged and then looked up. Gibbs was there, gesturing for him to come up.
Kate grinned. "Hey, you can tell me about it tonight. Dinner?"
"Something to look forward to," Stan said and nodded before running off.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Stan sat at the table in Director Morrow's office. Morrow was on the other side and Gibbs didn't leave. Morrow looked at him and rolled his eyes.
"Agent Gibbs, I told you already that this is a private meeting between Agent Burley and myself. You will please step out."
Stan suppressed a smile but was almost relieved when Gibbs did leave.
"Now, Agent Burley, I'm sure you know why I asked you here."
"Yes, Director. I do. It's about what happened on board. My panic attack."
"Yes. This is not a new problem for you, I am given to understand."
"That's correct. I've had them since I was in high school."
"And yet you never let anyone in on that fact? ...besides Agent Gibbs who, I am sure, would be able to trigger panic attacks in anyone if he wanted to." Morrow almost smiled.
Stan did smile briefly. "Yes, Agent Gibbs knew and did not report it at my request. He didn't feel it adversely affected my work."
"And yet it did during your latest assignment."
Stan took a breath. This was something he'd been thinking about a lot the last few days.
"Only insofar as people were surprised by it. I was still able to do my job, sir."
"The next time, you might not be so lucky."
"It's not about luck, Director. I have specific triggers...and I have never had a panic attack in dangerous situations. It's almost always in one-on-one conversations with a specific feeling to them...generally my own feeling of failure, of not being good enough. The attack I had was a surprise but it shouldn't have been."
Morrow was silent for a while. Stan was smart enough to wait for him to speak.
"Have you been treated for this?"
Stan shook his head. "Not for years. When I first started getting them, I saw some doctors. They put me on a bunch of different drugs. Most of them didn't help and the ones that did left me feeling like a zombie. I just...learned how to deal with the attacks when they came. They're not especially common. The one last week was the first I'd had since being an Agent Afloat."
"We have a problem, Agent Burley."
"I know, sir. You have no guarantee that I won't have an attack in a life-or-death situation."
"Exactly...but, as Agent Gibbs saw fit to inform me, you have an exemplary record."
Stan didn't respond. He knew what his record was.
"Are you aware that the methods used for treating panic disorder have changed quite a bit in the last few years?"
"Sir?"
"Medication is not the first, nor even the best, method used now in treatment."
"How do you know that, sir?"
"I make it a point to keep up. Now, Agent Burley, I am not going to terminate your position here."
"Thank you, sir," Stan said with relief.
"However, I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to go back to Agent Afloat, nor even act as a field agent until you have begun a new course of treatment for your disorder."
A new course? Stan thought in surprise.
"Yes, Agent Burley. Agent Afloat assignments only last for six months. I am making it mandatory that you have a report from a psychiatrist, preferably one on our list, that your condition is well in hand before I'll even consider putting you back out to sea."
"Is there a chance that I won't, sir?"
"There is a chance...but it is entirely contingent upon you. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now, I expect to have a report from you on the incident as well as the information about your therapy when it begins. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
Morrow stood and Stan followed suit.
"You're a good agent, Stan...but this can't happen again."
"I understand, sir."
"Good. Dismissed."
Stan nodded and walked out of the office. Gibbs was there.
"Well?"
"He's not firing me...but I'm being confined to land for a while."
They walked together to the stairs and began to head down.
"You going to quit?"
"No...but there's no guarantee I'll get what I want."
"Maybe you'll have to change what you want," Gibbs said. "Land isn't so bad."
Stan smiled and then came around the corner to see Kate sitting at her desk working assiduously.
"Being moored around here does have its advantages, Gibbs," Stan said and walked over to Kate.
"How did the meeting go?" she asked.
"Can I tell you tonight?" he asked.
Kate's smile turned playful. "I suppose. ...as long as I'm not the Agent Afloat equivalent of 'any port in a storm.'"
"Absolutely not. Pick you up at seven?"
"Can you sailors drive?"
"Oh, yeah."
Kate laughed. "Then, seven it is."
Stan headed toward the elevators and, as he left the building, he decided that being a landlubber for a while might not be too bad.
FINIS!