The Big Blow Up
By SherryGabs
Rated: K+
Summary: Gibbs has finally had it!
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine. Just borrowing them for a time for absolutely no profit.
Warnings: Minor language. Not beta'd.
Author's Notes: Instead of working on the huge fic I've been toiling over for months, I decided to vent some steam with this. Do any of the characters have quirks or histories that you're tired of? For instance, I swore if I saw another story where Tony gets sick or talks about his abusive childhood I would scream. Well, I did and I screamed! The dog jumped up and looked at me like I was crazy, one cat flew behind the couch and the other up the stairs. (Okay, kidding about the cats.) I just thought it would be a fun thing to write something about each character. Hope you think it's fun, too. It's not meant to be taken seriously. Enjoy!
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One could feel the ominous thunder-like energy in the air before the silver-haired man even walked into the bullpen. His day had been off to a bad start since waking up. Not only did his old trusty coffee maker decide to make today the day to finally kick-off, his father had called just to rub it in how his old nemesis, Chuck Winslow, had been named "Man of the Year" in Stillwater. Not only for overcoming great emotional trauma following the arrest of his son-in-law (Gibbs almost puked at that, thinking good ole Chuck should be in prison, too) but also for his most profitable year to date in his coal mining business. The rubbing in part was Jackson's dig that if Leroy had just gone to college instead of joining the Marines he might have been a success, too… instead of a sniping killer.
As much as he wanted to, Gibbs just couldn't bring himself to point out that he made double what his father made in a year. The old goat would just find something to insult me about that, too!
Having missed his pot of pre-work coffee, Gibbs stopped and got two extra large cups from his favorite coffee vendor. Unfortunately, a brat on a skateboard bumped into him and made him drop one of them. So, by the time he stalked into the bullpen he was grumbling under his breath and had a scowl to match an angry gorilla stuck on his face.
Ignoring the 'good mornings' from his three subordinates, Gibbs slammed his cup down on his desk and threw his coat over the wall behind him. "What the hell is everyone working on?!"
Three sets of wide, shocked eyes stared at Gibbs for a long moment. His own eyes narrowed in anger when he got no response. "WHAT THE HELL IS EVERYONE WORKING ON?!!" he repeated loud enough to get the whole floor's attention.
Ziva jumped and had to think a second or two to get the words out. "Finishing up reports from yesterday, Gibbs."
Tony almost fell out of his chair and scrambled to get his papers straightened. "Me, too, boss!"
Gibbs looked over at McGee with less than patient eyes. Tim's mouth opened and closed, but no words were forthcoming. Gibbs walked over to McGee's desk, placed his hands down and leaned forward into McGee's face and sighed deeply and loudly. Tim paled and couldn't help but stutter his answer.
"F-F-Finished m-my re-re-report, B-B-Boss. N-Now I'm s-st-strengthening the f-f-firewall on t-the s-s-system and up-updating the v-virus protection."
"Wow, McGee," Gibbs gave a sarcastic stare. "You managed not to stutter six words in one sentence. I'm impressed!" He pushed himself away from Tim's desk and went back to his own, dropping down in the chair heavily.
Tim, used to Gibbs's frequent bad tempers, tried not to let it get to him on a personal level. He looked over at DiNozzo asking accusingly with his eyes, Did you do something to piss him off?
Tony shrugged with a confused expression. Don't look at me, I didn't do anything this time! he stared back.
All four got involved with their work as the morning went by. Gibbs went out twice for coffee. The others seemed to forget about his earlier mood and were more relaxed and acting more like themselves.
Abby had come up and was helping Tim with his computer upgrading since she didn't have anything better to do. In between working on reports, Ziva and Tony were bantering back and forth flirtatiously and throwing small office supplies back and forth in mock anger.
Gibbs was trying his best to ignore what was going on around him. His mood had not improved, but he just wanted to keep silent and to himself. Too much caffeine was making him jittery and he was having trouble concentrating on his work and the voices of the people around him just seemed to get louder and louder in his mind.
Abby and McGee were using tech terms that Gibbs would never even want to understand, and Abby's childlike bouncing and prattling was really grating on his nerves.
Ziva was once again threatening Tony with a paper clip, referring back to her Mossad days and the many ways she could kill a person. Tony was telling her it wasn't much different than what his parents threatened to do to him as a poor, defenseless child, and then went on about how he almost died from pneumonic plague and his father didn't care enough to visit him. Ziva rolled her eyes and shot a rubber band at him, bragging on about how she could make his father disappear for good.
Their whispering voices began rising as they argued back and forth. Gibbs couldn't tune them out any longer. Nor could he ignore the nonsensical technobabble Tim and Abby were spewing back and forth as Abby bounced up and down in excitement.
The voices kept getting louder and louder in his mind. He could feel his blood pressure rise higher and higher. He was so sick of them! So sick of their day-in day-out behavior. Sick of the same thing every day! Why won't they just shut the hell up?! He could feel himself ready to explode. It wouldn't take much more to push him over the biggest edge of his life.
That edge came sooner than expected, in the form of Director Leon Vance.
"I need those reports to sign off on, Agent Gibbs. They ready yet?"
Gibbs slowly looked up and his eyes locked on the toothpick hanging out of Vance's mouth. How it moved slightly every time Vance moved his lips, or tongue, or teeth. He could see in his mind how every mouth part made the toothpick move. He couldn't get the vision out of his head. Nor the voices from the others that were loud and now running together in a nonstop chant.
He couldn't take it anymore. It had to stop.
"ENOUGH!" Gibbs yelled getting to his feet. All sound and motion stopped instantly. You could hear a pin drop… or a paper clip… or a toothpick…
"Gibbs?" Vance questioned after staring a moment. "Something you need to get off your chest?"
Gibbs just looked back with a half-crazed look on his face. "Get off my chest? Yeah, I got some things I need to get off my chest." He reached up and yanked the toothpick out of Vance's mouth. "First this. You know what I'd like to do with this? I'd like to shove it down your throat every time you stick your nose into my work! I'd like to see you choke on it every time you accuse me of wanting your job!
"Number two? Abby…" He tossed the toothpick over his shoulder and looked at the Goth woman. He could see her cringe in fright as he approached. "Abby, you dress like a horny teenager, you act like a five-year-old, you wear your hair like a three-year-old!" He flicked her pony tail with his finger for emphasis. "When are you going to grow up and act your age?! For God's sake, you're pushing—"
"Don't say it, Gibbs!" she shouted in a panicked voice, bouncing up and down again.
He smiled evilly. "You'll be forty this year! Forty!" He could hear the others gasp in shock; they had no idea she was that old. He glanced over at them. "Hah! And you all thought I was old enough to be her father. Well, think again!" He turned back to the now sobbing, closing-in-on-middle-age woman. "And don't think for a moment that I believe all those hugs you give me are all innocent. I've been married enough times to know the difference!"
Abby, blushing profusely, wailed in anguish and hobbled as fast as she could in her platform boots to the stairs.
Gibbs then turned on Tim, who paled and looked terrified. "Ma-Gee! How many years have you worked under me and still cannot grasp the concept of just getting to the bottom line? Of speaking plain English instead of computer jibberish? When are you going to not stutter when you're nervous?"
Tim could only stare into the bright, much-too-bright-to-be-sane, blue eyes of his boss and think that the only times he stutters anymore is when Gibbs is ticked. Or, in this case, completely losing it. Tim dared not utter a word as Gibbs rambled on.
"When the hell are you going to grow a set and stand up to idiots," he pointed to DiNozzo, "like him?"
"Hey, I resemble that remark!" DiNozzo spoke up in defense.
Bad decision.
Gibbs bore down on DiNozzo like an eagle to a squirrel; ready to grab his prey in his sharp talons. Tony pushed his chair as far back in the corner of his cubicle as he could get it, but the boss man still got right in his face.
"And you!" Gibbs voice got deathly quiet and his eyes bore into Tony's, who cringed. "How many times I've wanted to shoot you every time you bring up that plague business. Milking it for all it's worth!" He grabbed onto the arms of DiNozzo's chair. "And your poor—" he sarcastically acted as if he were about to cry, "childhood." His voice and eyes hardened again instantly. "Well, boo hoo, sob sob! You think you're the only one whose parents were losers? Suck it up and be a man, DiNozzo! Stop whining! And while you're at it… Grow up, act your age, and behave like a federal agent instead of a college frat boy! GOT IT!"
"Got it, boss!" Tony squeaked. Was Abby really going to be forty?
Ziva, figuring her turn was next, actually thought about hiding under her desk; or running away as fast as possible. Very few things scared her. An angry Gibbs was one of them.
"Miss David…"
Her big brown eyes slowly looked up into his bloodshot blue ones. "Yes, Gibbs?" she asked meekly.
"You consistently go on and on about how things are done in the Mossad. How easily you can kill. How we should all do our jobs more like they do it in Israel. Always trying to prove what a tough little ninja warrior you are. What we do doesn't seem good enough for you, yet you want to become an American citizen!"
Ziva only shrugged, not knowing what to say.
"You better get your shit together and make up your mind, David! If you want to be an American agent, you had better follow our rules. If they're not good enough for you, get your sorry ass back to Israel and beg Daddy dearest to take you back!"
Ziva's chin quivered and she nodded. Where's my damn paper clip?!
Gibbs couldn't stop the roll he was on. It felt so good to get it all out. "All of you!" His maniacal eyes took them all in; except Vance who seemed to have disappeared. "You are the most pathetic group! If Mike Franks had had you, he would have kicked all your asses into the next state and left you there!" Gibbs started rubbing his hands through his short hair, spiking it up messily. "You are the most childish, irresponsible—"
"Jethro! What on God's green earth has gotten into you?"
The demanding Scottish voice stopped Gibbs's diatribe and he turned toward the angry medical examiner. Vance stood next to him, his arms crossed in front of him. Obviously, he'd gone for reinforcements.
"Ducky!" Gibbs strode over to him with a strange smile on his face. "Good ole Dr. Donald Duck Mallard. Quack! Can't keep his beak, or bill, or whatever the hell it is out of everybody's business. Can't let a person have any privacy. Noooo! He has to know every little thing about everybody. Always trying to get into their heads!" Gibbs poked his own head to emphasize.
"Jethro, that's enough!" Ducky eyed him unperturbed. "You're making quite a spectacle of yourself."
"Oh, no I'm not!" He waved his arm to the group of agents behind him. "I'm just trying to make these people see themselves for who they are!"
Ducky chuckled. "This coming from a man who mainlines caffeine, has been divorced three times, builds boats in his basement, passes out drunk underneath said boats, puts hundreds of hours of work into them and ends up burning them! Not to mention you have the ability to be the most boorish of all bastards!"
Abby suddenly poked her head out from behind Vance. "Makes you sound pretty crazy, doesn't it, Gibbs?" She just as quickly hid back behind him.
Gibbs did a double take and scrunched his eyes, wondering if he'd actually seen that.
"Agent Gibbs," Director Vance spoke up, "I think you need to take a little time off."
"What?" he scoffed. "No way!"
"Jethro, it's for your own good. You obviously need the rest." Ducky started forward slowly.
Gibbs started backing away. "No, I don't. I'm perfectly fine!" His head and hands started twitching slightly.
"Please don't fight us on this," Ducky implored as he still closed in. Vance was right behind him.
It was like hungry wolves closing in. "Duck, don't make me hurt you!" Gibbs warned, his voice rising alarmingly. He was becoming panicky and he breathed only short gasps. "I'm just fine, really!" He kept backing up until he came up against the immovable force of three younger agents. Each grabbed a twitching part of him, pushed him down into his chair and held on. "Let me go!"
"Now, Jethro, you'll feel much better in just a moment," Ducky said with a smile as he pushed Gibbs's jacket off his shoulder and pushed up his short shirt sleeve. "Abigail?"
Abby once again stepped from behind Vance, with a wicked smile on her face. She held up a syringe filled with a clear liquid in one hand, and an alcohol wipe in the other.
Gibbs really started fighting when he saw the syringe. He hated shots! Vance and Ducky both had to help hold him down as Abby approached.
"This is for telling them how old I am!" She said angrily as she wiped a spot on Gibbs's upper arm and plunged the needle in. "You meany!" she added for emphasis before pulling the syringe out.
"Ow!" Gibbs howled, trying to break free. He shot murderous looks at both Ducky and Vance. If looks could kill, they'd be toast.
"Don't let him go till it kicks in," Ducky warned the others breathlessly. "Should only take a moment."
They were all realizing just how strong Gibbs was as they held on. In less than a minute, however, his struggles began weakening until they ceased altogether. Each slowly let go and stood back.
Tony wiped his brow. "What was in that, Ducky?"
Ducky laughed. "Something that will make him feel very, very good."
Gibbs's eyes glazed over and a goofy smile lit up his face. "Heya, Ducky! How ya' hangin'?" To Abby he said, "Hey, gorgeous. You dress up just for me?"
Ducky smiled indulgently, shaking his head. Abby blushed again and instantly forgave him. "Awww, he's so cute when he's stoned!" she cooed.
"What do you think could have caused this?" Tim asked Ducky, worried about his boss.
"Stress, exhaustion, caffeine overdose, maybe a combination of several things. I'm surprised it hasn't happened before now. I think he just needs a long vacation and he should be fine."
To all of them, he added, "Please don't hold it against Jethro as to whatever it was he told all of you today. Obviously, he wasn't exactly in his right mind and lashed out. I'm sure he didn't mean it."
The three younger agents nodded. Each one admitting to him or herself that maybe some of what Gibbs had said had a ring of truth to it.
"What should we do with him, Doctor?" Vance asked, trying to hold back a chuckle while watching Gibbs stare in wonder at his computer's screensaver.
"I think a few weeks off in a nice quiet location would be best. I'll call his father and see if I can bring him there. Jethro would probably love working in the old store again." He turned towards the drugged out man. "What do you say to that, Jethro? Want to go visit your father?"
Gibbs's brow furrowed. "What if he makes stroganoff? I hate his stroganoff."
"I'll ask him not to make stroganoff. Or I'll make my own recipe and see if you like that better."
"Oh, okay." He thought some more. "What if he brings up Chuck Winslow? He's always comparing me to Chuck Winslow. He keeps saying if I'd gone to college, I might have been successful like Chuck Winslow. I can't stand Chuck Winslow!" He whined like a child.
While Ducky barely managed to keep a straight face, the others couldn't and giggling was bursting forth from all directions.
"I will ask Jackson politely not to mention--" he really did not want to hear the name repeated again "--him at all. Shall we go and pack some clothes?" He held out his arm to help Jethro out of the chair and upright.
Jethro stood up on his own, though, if a bit too quickly. His head started spinning wildly and his eyes saw every bit of it in technicolor. "Oh, wow!" His goofy grin returned. "Can I do that again?"
The background giggling became more of a guffaw.
"No, Jethro." Ducky found Gibbs's coat, laid it over his arm and guided Gibbs toward the elevator. "Let's go downstairs for a quick check-up, then we'll leave."
"Sure thing, Duck!" Gibbs grinned, put his arm around Ducky's shoulders and squeezed affectionately.
As they disappeared behind the closing elevator doors, Vance shook his head and grew serious again. He stuck a new toothpick between his lips, crossed his arms, and faced the four remaining people in the bullpen.
"DiNozzo, you're in charge for the time being. If I hear you being whiny about anything, abusive with your authority, or for being just a jerk, McGee will take over. David, you will not threaten anyone with any bodily harm, you will follow American NCIS rules and regulations. McGee, you will not take crap, in any form, from DiNozzo or David.
"Does everyone understand?" His voice was low and authoritative.
"Yes, sir," chorused three voices simultaneously.
"What about me?" Abby asked timidly.
Vance looked her up and down, having no idea of what to do with her. "Just go back to your lab and keep busy."
"Yes, sir!" she saluted and skipped towards the elevator.
It was going to be a long few weeks!
THE END
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