AN: Alright so as you can tell this is a new story. Shocker I know, you may have noticed that I tend to start a story...and kind of stray...I'M SORRY! But this story, as well as my others, at total of too many to count, will get finished. Sooner or later. Anywho, anough with this note, on to the story. Oh yeah, and for all the people who were disappointed in Who Are You? for Alex not mingaling with the crossover part. Look no further, the first chapter to this story. And the crossover will only grow as time goes on. So I will be greedy and say that I want a few reviews, how this story is going, how long should I keep the chapters, any suggestions, anything really. A huge thanks to my beta: DarkRook! This would be filled with grammar errors without him. Finally on to the story.
There was little traffic that night, strange considering it was only ten o'clock. The mid-November wind was biting and frosty; nobody was outdoors. The full moon was shining behind barren tree branches and most of the lights in the neighborhood had been extinguished. However, the lone gas station was an exception. The bright neon signs posted on the outside windows contrasted with the night. One specific "open" sign kept blinking. Going on and off, as if it were broken.
Everything was silent; the only noise was a few crickets off in the distance, making their own music. A truck pulled up into the parking lot. It was an older Ford design, but was in good shape for its age. The glossy green paint only had a few scratches, and there were few instances of rust.
The driver parked the car at a pump and got out. His hood was up, his face concealed in shadows. He filled the truck, the sound of metal against metal breaking the silence, echoing into the night. Putting back the pump, he held his hands up to the small light produced from the machine.
His hands were stained in blood and dirt. Looking down at his attire, he saw that his gray sweatshirt also had blood on it. Taking his hands, he wiped the evidence of blood off on his pants. Red now smeared both his hands and jeans.
Turning around he pulled out a wallet and walked into the store.
The teller was reading a newspaper when the door bell chimed; few people ever visited the gas station, especially at night. He glanced up to see a person who stood at about 5'7". His hood hid his face, but the thing that stood out to teller was the blood. All over him.
The teller took a deep breath as the stranger walked in the store, heading straight towards the back. His first thought was that if this person pulled a gun on him, he would be done for. He wouldn't see his family again, who was quietly sleeping at home while he worked. Expecting him to be home not much later.
If he died, he wouldn't be home at all.
He struggled to control his breathing as the person walked up with a bottle, but made no move to set it on the counter. He pulled money from his wallet, and set that on the counter instead. And as if nothing had happened, he turned and walked out the door. The clang of the bell heralded his departure.
The teller watched as the figure walked past the truck, and went out of sight. He glanced at the counter and saw a hundred dollar bill, smooth and crisp. He yanked out his phone, and dialed a number, all the while staring at the truck that had not moved.
The lights were low in the N.C.I.S. building. Most of the agents went home, but there were a few exceptions. One of the cubicles had three people in it.
At the far desk in the cubicle was a pudgy man with a simple brown hair cut. He was wearing a suit, and typing on computer. At the desk beside him was another male. He had nice casual clothes on and he was texting on his phone. The desk opposite to his was where a woman sat. Her black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she was wearing a red sweater. She was organizing something.
The guy who was texting shut his phone and set it on his desk. "Where's Gibbs at?"
The woman shrugged. "Perhaps he went home."
"Don't joke like that, Ziva. He wouldn't leave this early."
Ziva sighed and nodded her head. "I was just making a suggestion."
"You know she's right, Tony," the other man said as he typed on his computer. "He could have walked off. After all, we just finished a hard case."
"Fine, McGee, you wanna be like that? How about we place a bet." Tony smirked.
Ziva shook her head. "You guys do whatever you want, I am not dealing with this right now."
"Game on," McGee said and pulled out ten bucks. He set it on his desk, and Tony did the same.
"So, if Gibbs didn't leave, I get twenty bucks. But if he did, which is highly unlike Gibbs, then you get twenty bucks," Tony told him as he leaned up against a filing cabinet.
They waited, and waited, much to Tony's disapproval. Tony swung around in his chair, staring at the ceiling, bored.
"Where is Gibbs? He should have been here by now," Tony asked, to no one in particular.
"Maybe he did leave," Ziva said as she moved more papers around.
"Very funny, Ziva, now let's be serious here. O.K., never mind, if he's not here in five minutes then I'm leaving."
Five minutes passed without incident, and no Gibbs. Tony looked at his watch and saw that it was ten twenty five. He ran his hand through his hair and stood up.
"Well I'm leaving." He threw on his coat, and was about to make his leave when a smack on the back of the head stopped him. He winced, knowing exactly who it was.
"Hi-ya boss. Where have you been?"
"Talking to the director to try and get us off of this next case," an older man with gray hair said as he walked over to the only desk not occupied.
"Gibbs, isn't it too early to get a new case?" Ziva said as she looked over at him. "We just finished a huge murder investigation."
"I know, Ziva, that's why I spent the last half an hour in Vance's office trying to get him to take this case back."
"What type of case is it?" McGee asked, his typing halting momentarily.
"A pointless one," Gibbs told him.
"Let me take it boss, it won't be that bad," Tony said with a smirk on his face. He caught the file that Gibbs chucked at him. Opened it, briefly glanced at it, then tossed it on Ziva's desk. "Here Ziva, this case is perfect for you."
"What do you mean?" she asked as she opened it and read it. She paused briefly, "What does a 'follow up meeting' mean?"
"Not mine," McGee said as he went back to his computer.
Tony walked over towards McGee's desk and snatched the money off of it. He pocketed it and ignored McGee's glare as he listened to Gibbs explain what the case meant.
"When a Marine goes into witness protection, we have to check up on them from time to time. And since we missed the last visit, this one is a week long."
Ziva looked at him, and threw the file across the room so it hit Tony on the head. "There you are Tony, you requested it, did you not?"
"Funny, Ziva," he smiled at her before slamming the file on McGee's desk. "McDork, as your senior field agent I order you to take this case."
"What? No fair. You should take it as seeing you're the senior field agent."
Gibbs's phone started to ring. "I don't care who takes it, just stop fighting and decide." He opened the phone and spoke into it, "Gibbs...," his face went very serious. "Alright, I'll be there," he hung up the phone. Grabbing his coat he stalked off to the elevator.
"Change of plans," he said to his team, who was staring at him. "Tony, with me," he waved his hand as he pushed the down button, and Tony smirked as he ran over. "McGee and Ziva, go check out that Marine."
He barely heard a head smack against a desk as the elevator doors shut behind them.
The air was stale as the Tony stepped out of the car. He glanced at Gibbs who pointed over towards the street. Tony squinted as and he saw a person sitting there on the curb. He nodded and made his way over towards the street while Gibbs went into the store.
Tony zipped up his jacket; the breeze was beginning to make him shiver. He walked up to the person and sat down. "Cold out, huh?"
The guy didn't answer; in fact, he didn't even look as though he had registered Tony was there. Tony sighed as the man took another drink of whatever he was drinking. "What are you doing?" The person didn't answer "Hey, what's your name?"
He just shrugged, and Tony frowned. So that's how he was going to be. He glanced at him, and sized him up. 'I could take him, he's a shorty anyway,' Tony thought.
"What are you drinking?" Tony asked, and a second later the bottle was shoved in his hands. He tried to read the label but there wasn't enough light. So he tilted his head back and chugged.
He started to hack and cough. It was whisky, straight up too. His throat was burning as he struggled to catch his breath. The person took the bottle from him. He swung his head back, and the hood fell off of his face. He drank for a few seconds before he pulled back. He ran his hand through his blond mangled hair.
Tony looked at him in shock. This was a kid, no older than himself. He also noticed the blood in his hair. Tony froze, and squinted through the night. He saw blood on his sweatshirt, and some on his face. This kid actually killed someone?
He was about to arrest him, when the kid just stood up and started to walk towards his truck. Tony jumped up and followed him. He was trailing behind a ways before he saw Gibbs inside. Gibbs nodded his head once.
He was about to take the kid down, when the shorty dropped the glass bottle. It shattered all over the concrete the pieces glistening in the dull light. And the kid took off.
All hell broke loose.
Ziva and McGee walked up the driveway. The house was a simple two story and belonged to the Marine. The Marine was Colonel Lawson. He and his daughter went into witness protection because while he was overseas he ran into a drug smuggling ring and got caught in the middle of it. Fortunately, he was saved by his comrades, but that didn't change the fact that people would be after him. So after he got discharged, he went into protection to save himself and his daughter from any harm. They got new names and moved across the country. For the past year, they've been living well.
"McGee, knock on the door," Ziva told him as she looked at a crow in the tree.
McGee sighed and knocked on the door. The noise scared the bird, and it swooped down onto something. Ziva watched it, and looked at the thing that the bird had perched on. She froze as she saw an arm.
"Ziva, he's not here," McGee said as he turned around and watched Ziva pull her gun out. He did the same as she titled her head and started to walk forward. They walked cautiously towards the backyard. They peered over the garbage can, and laying on the ground was a child.
She was wearing a dress, covered in a combination of grass and blood stains. The blood was pooling around her, coming from her stomach area. Ziva did a quick sweeping motion, making sure no one was there. The backyard was empty as far as she could tell.
McGee shifted his head towards the house and Ziva nodded at the silent order. They made their way towards the front door. Ziva stepped back, her gun ready, while McGee kicked the door in.
The door broke under the pressure, the small wooden pieces scattering across the floor. They ignored them and walked into the house. McGee swept the living room, while Ziva went into the kitchen. Ziva came out of the kitchen to find McGee standing over something. She glanced around and walked towards him.
McGee made room for her. She loomed over the body. It was a male, the height could not be identified. But he had blood around his chest, and some smeared on his face. She moved so she could see him better, then looked up towards McGee.
He nodded, while glancing at the body. She sighed and shook her head. "Looks like our Marine was home this whole time."