Eleanor Bishop was visibly upset, wondering if she made the right move—leaving the NSA for NCIS. Quirkiness worked at the former. It clashed with her 'Life is not a popularity contest,' mantra. During troubling times and instances, her methods, beyond the traditional, were overlooked. At NCIS, she just wanted to blend into the cohesive unit, to be accepted by peers. Instead, she continually clashed with colleagues and became the whisper and hearty laughter of others.
Her name was no longer Eleanor, even Bishop. It was "Probie—probationary agent." The title echoed through her mind. She saw a grinning, torturous Tim McGee, giving orders, basking in the moment where he enjoyed the 'good-natured' NCIS orientation. Gibbs bypassed her names, calling her Probie as well. The tears welled in her eyes, as Ellie held her anxieties inward. It was a twisted, parallel universe where Anthony DiNozzo assumed the tormentor role; instead, he was an advocate, the reasonable one.
"I'm going downstairs for coffee. Excuse me." Ellie arrived to the "bottom"—Bottoms Up Café, to grab a cup of coffee, perhaps something sweet.
"So many choices…" she mumbled, looking through the dessert tray. Ellie spilled the cup.
"Just great…" She muttered and groaned in frustration. Ellie stopped for a moment. An unexpected hand joined in the cleanup.
"You know, my nickname for you is Southfork-from the TV show, Dallas? Miss Ellie? Eleanor Ewing Farnsworth? The Mama?" Ellie stood there, quiet instead of talkative, and confused with the classic TV reference.
Enter Suzanne McNamara.
"Honey, I give everyone nicknames. I chose Miss Ellie, because you sure as hell got a soap opera going on upstairs!" Suzanne chuckled.
"I'm sorry about the mess."
"It's okay."
Suzanne was an agent's best friend at NCIS. One of the unspoken but understood rules was to get along with the person who feeds you-Rule 23b. She worked in the cafeteria, or craft services, for several years and always offered beverages and made-to-order sandwiches for the employees at peak and off-peak hours. Suzanne was also the welcome wagon of the team, knowing everyone's name, preferences, and a little personal information just from listening and observing.
"I'm Suzanne, by the way. You must be Ellie Bishop."
She nodded.
Suzanne McNamara's name was spoken before on the NCIS floor. Tim called her a 'Goddess' while Tony referred to the twenty-something as an 'exotic fish'—lively but sometimes cold. She was seldom seen. She was easy to recognize—tall, dark-complexion, and darker, mysterious eyes behind bifocal glasses. Her work uniform—polyester pants, denim shirt—did little to stir attention. Ellie noticed at work once or twice, couldn't make of her overall personality. Suzanne's responses were often two ways: soft—
"Would you like some more?" She would smile and pour that Southern charm for others, refilling coffees.
Or she was to-the-point.
"I don't like you!"
That was her usual response to Tony DiNozzo.
"Susie, let's go to a movie." Tony suggested. "They're having a Spike Lee festival at the Atlas."
"Why can't we see John Ford, or Kurosawa? Howard Hawks?" While Tony stood speechless, Suzanne delivered a zinger.
"And I told you my name is Suzanne. Clown!" She rolled the cart back to the service elevator.
Generally, the people described Suzanne as a very nice person.
"I just brewed tea for Dr. Mallard and prepared a sweet tray of scones, cookies, not that they deserve any of it…" Suzanne said. "Not the way they've been dogging you…"
Ellie's sigh was heavy.
"Listen, let me get this while you sip the Brodie's Tea and have a scone." Suzanne pulled a small cloth from her apron, dabbed and wiped the surface. "Sit down for a while, just relax."
Suzanne carried a phone in her apron pocket. She pulled out the cordless phone, punched in Gibbs' extension and explained the nature of the call.
"Don't worry about Gibbs; I'll tell him you're downstairs." Suzanne assured.
"Hey, Ellie: use the China cups, if you don't mind. There's something magical about using actual china cups…"
"You trust me?" Ellie laughed quietly.
Suzanne nodded, chuckled at the response as she watched Ellie prepare the setting, listening to the gentle clanging of the saucer and cup.
"Hi. It's Suzanne down in the bottom… Ms. Bishop is keeping me company." It was her personal way of informing Gibbs the whereabouts of his employee.
"I'm doing set up and we're having a little girl-talk…we'll arrive shortly."
"Thanks, Suz." Gibbs replied.
"I'm glad you're here. I'm closing the downstairs area and setting up stations." She shared, pulling the gate, twisting the locks. "You can keep me company while I do set up."
"I can help you." Ellie offered.
"I got this. Just relax." Suzanne smiled. An appropriate tune for the afternoon, You've Got a Friend started.
With Ellie sipping her tea and easing back, Suzanne continued her chores inside the cafeteria. Slowly, she relaxed and listened to the background music.
"I've been doing setups and breakdowns alone 5 years now…I can do this in my sleep…." She moved quickly with the portable floor sweeper.
"I didn't know about the 'Bottom' until today." Ellie continued preparing the tea.
"The best kept secret around...Everything's homemade." Suzanne chimed, reaching for the remote to adjust the music volume. "The best part…you can relax." She hummed along with the singing, washing tables and rearranging the place settings.
Suzanne poured her heart into the singing. Her head swayed, eyes closed…
Suzanne sat down, closed her eyes and shook her head. "It's been a James Taylor type of day." She exhaled noisily, opened her eyes and faced Ellie. Suzanne smiled and repeated the lyric for reassurance.
"It seems like you need one today, one of those days where nothing seems to go right." Suzanne said. Ellie nodded in agreement.
"This is delicious tea." Ellie clasped the cup. "Much better than the coffee…"
"It's a Scottish tea—decaffeinated—still has a little punch. It lifts your spirit." Suzanne offered to pour, while Ellie held a hand, signaling only a small amount.
"What's going on?"
"Suzanne, I don't belong here." Ellie sighed. "I don't fit with the organization."
"Why would you want to fit? Sitting on the floor, papers spread all around, recalling details without notice…Honey, that's your personality, your niche at NCIS." Suzanne continued, finishing the thorough wipe down.
"Listen, Ellie, you belong here just like than anyone else." Suzanne concluded. "Don't let anyone else say different. Okay?"
Suzanne turned to find Ellie nodding, smiling.
"Do you mind me asking what your niche is, other than good coffee and pastries?"
"Mine?" She emitted a guttural laugh, pushing the elevator button. "I'm just an overpaid barista."
"I think you're more than that."
"Maybe." Suzanne nodded in agreement, counting money and matching to daily receipts. "But, I have some talents, many I don't easily disclose. You need to stick around to see what they are, Miss Ellie." Suzanne pushed the cart inside the elevator, grunted slightly.
"Who knows? Maybe the two of us could solve problems of the world in a 30 minute break."
Suzanne continued bopping around the building, double-checking the equipment and supplies. She flashed the lights, tapped Ellie on the shoulder.
"Time's up, Sister. We're going to the Penthouse-MTAC. Then, I'm going to class." Suzanne directed Ellie to the service elevator.
"Feeling better?" Suzanne asked.
"Thank you, Suzanne."
"I told you. Drinking from fine china will do that." Suzanne smiled. She snapped her fingers, quickly darted out of the elevator into the office.
"You know, I am constantly reminded by Gibbs…" Suzanne grabbed her backpack, jumped beside Ellie. "Rule 5: You don't waste good." Suzanne quoted, patting her bag. "He's been encouraging me with this school nonsense."
"You know the rules?"
"Sweetie, I know everything that goes on at NCIS." Suzanne grinned. "I won't always be your friendly, neighborhood coffee girl."
The elevator chimed and door closed.