With Her Head Tucked Underneath Her Arm
by channelD
written for: the NFA Weekly Writing Challenge #4—prompt: Did they or didn't they?
rating: T for dark-humored gore suggestions
genre: crack!fic or just plain weird
characters: Tony et al.
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disclaimer: I own nothing of NCIS.
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"Doctor Mallard—do you really believe that this woman charged at Gibbs' team in a threatening manner?"
"It would seem unlikely," said Ducky, not looking up from the Autopsy table where he worked.
"That's what they are claiming happened."
"So I've heard. But although they claim she was very much alive at the time, the evidence shows that her head was severed well over 24 hours ago; and, judging by tissue decomposition, has been carried by her underneath her arm, for at least…20 hours."
"So she has been dead at least 24 hours."
"That is true."
"Yet she came at them less than three hours ago."
"That is also true."
"That is insane." Vance pulled out his cell phone. "Gibbs—get down to Autopsy, now!"
- - - - -
Gibbs came, and met Ducky's and Vance's harsh stares. Jimmy Palmer, he noticed, lingered in the background, silent.
"Is that the woman who came at you?"
"Well, she had a head on her shoulders when last I saw her, but…" He even sounded a little puzzled.
"This head?" Ducky turned the face more clearly into the light, but didn't unclench the dead fingers from the hair.
"No."
"No?"
"I would have remembered a pretty redhead. Our attacker had mousy brown hair."
"So where is her mousy brown head, then?"
"Search me."
"I hope you don't mean that literally, Agent Gibbs," Vance said coldly. "Right now you and your team have to answer to the death of a Navy petty officer, and you can't possibly use self-defense in your argument."
"What was the time of death, Duck?" Gibbs asked calmly. His blue eyes, however, betrayed a hint of concern.
"At least 24 hours ago, as I was telling the Director."
"Then…we're in the clear."
"But how could you have killed a dead woman??" Vance snapped.
"I don't think it's possible to kill someone who's already dead, Leon," Gibbs said smoothly.
Vance again went for his cell phone. "DiNozzo—get down here to Autopsy right now. And bring David and McGee with you."
"Since when are my team on your speed dial, Leon?" asked Gibbs in genuine curiosity.
"Around the same time that I doubled my antacids prescription," Vance retorted.
- - - - -
"Is this the woman who came at you with a scimitar, Agent DiNozzo?" Vance demanded.
Tony's lips curled back in some disgust. "No, the woman who attacked us wasn't headless."
"Neither is this one."
"Ick. And I say that with all reverence, Ducky. Ick."
Tim was wide-eyed. "I saw that she had something under her arm…but I thought it was a football."
" 'She has her head tucked underneath her arm'…was that not a song, long ago?" Ziva mused. " 'The sentries think that it is a football that she carries in.' "
"Never heard of it," said Tony, and the rest also shook their heads, except for Ducky.
"Is this, then, Jane Seymour, Anne Boleyn, or Katherine Parr?" He smiled at Ziva and she smiled back. Obscure, shared, knowledge.
"So we have one torso, and one head, and we're missing a torso and a head," Ducky continued.
"And we still have witnesses that say that an NCIS team mowed down a mostly unarmed—"
"Are you sure that wasn't 'unheaded'?" Jimmy piped up, and laughed at his own joke.
"Mister Palmer!" Ducky scolded, and Jimmy slunk back to a far wall.
Vance continued. "Mowed down a mostly unarmed attacker. Shot her."
"Are there gunshot wounds on this body, Duck?" asked Gibbs.
"None that I've found."
"You four will surrender your weapons for ballistics tests," Vance barked. "You are all confined to desk duty until further notice."
- - - - -
Back at his desk, Tim grimaced. "Can't we bring in those so-called witnesses, boss? For questioning?"
"We can't leave the building, McGee," Gibbs said with a sharp enough look to make Tim lower his eyes.
"So…we're just supposed to let some 'witnesses' railroad us, without any chance to defend ourselves?"
"Boss, we were all there," said Tony. "A petty officer, in uniform, came at us with a scimitar. And she had her head on. Her shoulders. Whether it was really on straight or not, I didn't check."
"Halloween was over months ago," Ziva sighed. "Were we the victims of a mass hallucination?"
Gibbs snapped his fingers. "Vance is doing ballistics tests. We can demand blood tests."
- - - - -
"I hate having blood drawn," Tony griped, sitting on a stool in Autopsy. "Ouchie."
"Don't be such a wuss, Tony," Tim scolded. "If this will clear us, I'm all for it."
"Yeah, well, what if it doesn't, McGoodtimes? Then we're still out some blood."
"Ducky, can you arrange to transfuse some of my blood into Tony? He sounds anemic."
"Knock it off, both of you," said Gibbs, sitting on a table. "I'd headslap you if I could reach you from here."
"That should do it," said Ducky, finishing up with Ziva. "What do we have for our guests, Mister Palmer?"
"A piece of dark chocolate for each of them," Jimmy said, handing around candies.
"Are there nuts in these?" Tim asked.
"Too many nuts in this room already," said Gibbs.
- - - - -
"Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!" Abby bounced as she spoke on the vidlink phone. It looked like an earthquake was in progress. "You've got to come down and see this! It's great news! No, wait—I'll tell you. I'm so excited."
"What is it, Abbs?"
"You and the entire team were drugged! I found hallucinogens in your blood samples. You must have only thought that the petty officer was attacking you!"
"Abbs, that makes us look guilty, then."
"Uh...Let me get back to you."
- - - - -
The next day, tension hung over Gibbs' team as they toiled at their desks, working on cold cases. In mid-afternoon Gibbs hung up his desk phone with a sigh. "The Director wants to see us in his office," he announced. "There's news of some sort."
"We're being arrested," Tim said gloomily.
"Am I the only one who thinks that nothing here makes sense??" said Tony.
"We will have 25 to life to figure it out," Ziva said sadly.
- - - - -
But arrests were not in the wind. "You've been exonerated," Vance announced as they sat down. "We found another headless torso, carrying a woman's head—with mousy brown hair—underneath her arm. It's believed that the two women, who have some connection, staged a duel to the death. End of story."
Tony gaped. "That still doesn't make any sen—"
"Save it, Tony," Gibbs said, a hand on his arm. "We're not guilty."
"But what about the scimitar? And the drugs?" Tim pressed.
"Hallucination," said Vance. "It never happened. All you found was the petty officer's body."
Ziva frowned. "What about the witnesses?"
"Hallucination, again. You had lunch at the same diner as the witnesses, where the mushrooms served turned out to be Psilocybin mushrooms. Highly psychoactive."
"I don't even remember stopping for lunch," Tony said, scratching his head. "We've never done that en route to a crime scene."
"DiNozzo, are you trying to prove yourself guilty?"
"No, Director; I just—" Tony let it fall silent.
"Good. I'll assume it's still a bit of the psilocin in your system. Take the rest of the day off. Get some rest. It'll be back to the field for all of you tomorrow."
"Thanks, Leon." Gibbs shook his hand, as did they all, and they then left.
- - - - -
Tony came into NCIS with a spring in his step the following morning, only to find none of his team at their desks. He frowned, looked at the wall clock, looked at his watch, and checked the time on his cell phone. He was never the first one there.
Vance came down the stairs. "DiNozzo! There you are! Your team went out last night—said you weren't answering your phone…"
"Sorry, sir. I guess I can sleep through almost anything when I'm tired enough." Still, Tony wondered. This was the first time that had happened.
"Apparently. Anyway, the case has been solved. It was just as was surmised yesterday."
"But how do two people manage to behead each other??"
"There are some things that can't be explained. Ah, here comes your team now." Vance actually smiled and waved to Gibbs, Ziva and Tim before heading back to his own office.
"We missed you last night, Tony," said Tim.
"I didn't know you were aiming at me," Tony replied automatically, still feeling a bit off-kilter. Oh, well. Chalk it up as an unexplained mystery, and move on. He busied himself reading the agency email that had come in in the last 24 hours.
He didn't look up until Tim made a sharp (meant to be funny) remark and Gibbs gave him a headslap…causing Tim's head to fall off and roll forward on his desk. Blindly, Tim groped for it. Ziva calmly came to his rescue, and with Gibbs' assistance, reattached his head properly. Gibbs gave Tim a comradely pat on the shoulder to show that no harm was meant, and Tim seemed okay with that.
Tony, meanwhile, was sure he was screaming…
- - - - -
"Come on, Tony! Wake up! Open your eyes!"
Tony did so, blinking. He was lying on the ground, in the dust and dried grass of January. Ziva was looking at him with concern, as was Ducky.
"What happened?" Tony asked, his throat dry. An unpleasant taste was in it, as if he'd been on the verge of vomiting.
Ducky seemed to read his mind, and dug out a bottle of water for him. "The petty officer, whom we thought was dead, rose up and came at you. Knocked you down with her scimitar. You have a minor chest wound, but you'll survive. I can't say the same for your NCIS jacket, though."
"My jacket? Oh, man…" This would be his third new one this year. Accounting would have stern words for him. Then he remembered. "Was she headless?"
"Headless?" Ziva chuckled. "Tony, she is not a chicken. She could not rush at you if her head was cut off."
"She had a bright red scarf at her throat," said Ducky. "It might have appeared like a neck wound, but…"
"And she wasn't carrying a head underneath her arm?" Tony persisted.
Ducky and Ziva looked at each other. "Tony," Ducky said at last, "I think you've had a nasty shock. Lie still; the ambulance should be here shortly."
Ziva got up and walked to where Gibbs and Tim were stowing the handcuffed suspect in the back of the NCIS MCRT truck. "How's DiNozzo?" asked Gibbs.
She shook her head. "He thinks the petty officer was carrying a head underneath her arm. Ducky is concerned for his mental state."
"Well, he almost got it right," Tim said, holding up an evidence bag. "She had this."
Ziva laughed. "A head of lettuce. But why?"
Gibbs shrugged. "She was going to make a salad? Who knows? Let's go."
It would take time for Tony to be convinced that events had not happened the way he thought they had…and longer for him to stop looking at his team's necks for cut lines. Quietly, he just added scimitars and lettuce heads to his small list of phobias.
-END-