Disclaimer: I do not own the works of geniuses that belong to Hart Hanson and Don Bellisario (Bones and NCIS respectively) but someday I hope to have that distinction... :)
Right, so this is a crossover of NCIS and Bones. Takes place during the 7th season and the 5th one, respectively. Was inspired, but am uncertain about the future of this fic. Like McGee, I tend to write in the present. But I do have a good success rate at finishing stories! Even if I haven't actually posted a new one in 2 years...Too busy watching Bones and NCIS, I suppose.
-----
Jared turned his head as he ran, trying to see if his attacker was still pursuing him. But it was dark and the alcohol was numbing his senses. He really shouldn't have downed that last beer, but it was hard to find a decent Sam Adams these days.
Puffing, Jared kept walking slowly, craning his ears for all senses as he wished desperately that he had a gun, a knife, any kind of weapon. But unfortunately, as Joe 'Dishonorably Discharged' Citizen, Jared Booth was unarmed and someone was hunting him down. He could feel it in the air.
'Sniper' His mind screamed and he ducked instinctively. Like that, Jared was gunned down. The subsequent splash of the puddle became coated with his blood as it dripped down to the sewer. Moaning softly, Jared cursed his slow thought process. If he'd been thinking faster, he could've figured out it was a sniper faster.
But now there was only one thing he could do. Die. But he wasn't going to die without a fight, that was for sure. Grasping his abdomen and trying not to black out with the pain, Jared's naval training told him he had only seconds. Pulling out his phone, there was no service, something the sniper knew-which was why he wasn't bothering to gun down Jared again-much to Jared's consternation.
But Jared had a grim smile on his face, determined to at least do this thing. He had to, in order to die with a clear mind. Damn that Catholicism.
Groaning, he shut his eyes, his hands tightening around the bloody wound which seeped past his broad fingers. His phone was tight in his other hand and Jared intended to make damn sure that the right man got the message.
At three minutes before midnight, Jared Booth died with the blanket of the moon's translucent rays on his stained clothing, and the cold comfort of a bloody puddle on the ground.
The hitman stood over his body, eyes gleaming in the moonlight as he smiled at his fresh kill. He'd been tracking the ex-navy man for two days and was disappointed by how easy he'd been. Drunks were always the easiest kill. But if Jared hadn't ducked at the last minute, the shot would have been clean through and out into the Dumpster. Easy enough to retrieve by replacing the Dumpsters again.
But at least the duck would throw off the perimeters of the shooting back to his original base. No one would think to calculate his ducking. The wrong people would look in the wrong places. Made it harder for them to catch a lucky break.
"You have to make it hard on me, don't you?" The sniper muttered, shaking his head at the sloppy mess. The bullet was probably still in the fellow and he'd been trying to contact someone with his cell. Not that it'd do any good on in alley with no bars.
He had to preserve the scene as much as possible while getting his bullet back. He didn't dare shoot the injured Navy man again. Not when he knew that the first shot was fatal anyway. And now the damn blood was everywhere. No way of switching crime scenes on the feds.
Gritting his teeth, the sniper stood up to think, taking care to only step in the puddles, where he would leave no prints. These puddles were both a godsend and a damned nuisance. He'd have to throw the boots away too, as they had the target's blood on them now. And he loved these boots. Got his first kill in them.
However…The killer paused, squinting all around him at the abandoned street. Fire was a nice option. Butane left no traces. He could pull the bullet out, sprinkle gasoline everywhere around the restaurant and leave slurs on the front walk. It was an Israeli place. Decent hummus, but the falafel left much to be desired. The hit thus, would be impossible to trace to him and his clients. They'd be barking up all the wrong trees. The guy would light up almost right away from the fire. He reeked of alcohol after all.
And that cell phone message to the living, if the guy managed to text one, would be gone. Excellent. A ghost of a grin lit up on the sniper's face as he started making arrangements for his next kill, somewhere north of Guadalajara.
---
Tony drummed his fingers on his desk, eagerly waiting for Ziva to arrive. Not that he'd ever admit that to anyone. But he was bored and Ziva always amused him. More so then McGee, though Tony never could figure out why Ziva liked McGee more than him. It was annoying because he was Anthony DiNozzo and McGee was, well, McGee.
Sure enough, Ziva arrived with orange cap placed prominently on her head and a reticent expression on her face. Something was on her mind, but she wasn't going to tell anyone. Not Ziva who was more private then a Swiss bank sometimes.
"Good morning." Tony told her, with a DiNozzo smile for her benefit.
She nodded at him absently, before sitting down, "I have a feeling." Pulling the hat off, Ziva shook her hair out, running her fingers through them.
"A bad one?" Tony asked, curious. His mind was pulled back to that fateful day in LA when Ziva wouldn't shut up about Jenny and he hadn't listened to her.
"I've had small ones sometimes, but nothing like this since…" Ziva trailed off and glanced at Tony as if debating something inside her head, "Where are McGee and Gibbs?"
"Coffee duty and Gibbs is up in MTAC." Tony rattled off, leaning back in his chair, "You ever have it about me?"
The same internal debate was still running behind Ziva's eyes, "Yes. It is a good thing that Jeanne saved you that time." Ziva said lightly, darting her eyes back to the screen.
Like that, Tony felt himself pull away. Jeanne always put him in a bad place and he brooded along with Ziva. McGee entered the bullpen with three coffees and a wary look on his face as he felt the grim moods of his two usually-easygoing co-workers.
"Who died?"
"Former navy lieutenant. Grab your gear." Gibbs took one of the coffees as he swept past the group toward the elevator. They followed him quickly, a cloud of anxiety coating Ziva and affecting Tony, whether he knew it or not.
Gibbs smacked Tony, "Snap out of it, DiNozzo. I don't need two agents wandering off in the clouds today. Agent David, are you fit to work today?"
"Yes Gibbs." Ziva said, turning to him with a stubborn look on her face as if daring him to force her to go home.
Gibbs glared back at her for effect, though they both knew he wasn't going to push it today.
"Fine then." He said heavily as the doors open, "But I see you acting like DiNozzo a few seconds ago and you're off duty for today, Probie."
Ziva nodded. Gibbs had the last word.
Her father had called her today, asking her to come home for the holidays. Rosh Hashanah was coming and it was always her father's favorite time of year. Though Ziva had a very small nuclear family, the Jewish New Year brought out the whole David clan. Cousins, aunts, uncles, and Zayde, Ziva's grandfather. However, she couldn't go, as she couldn't leave the country while her citizenship papers were still being processed.
Her father had not taken that well, calling her a traitor to her country. Just like her half-brother.
Ari was never at the Rosh Hashanah festivities. Papa didn't like the rest of the family seeing Ari. A throat rose in Ziva's throat as she tried not to think of Ari. It hurt too much.
She blinked in confusion when she heard their destination in the car-Sebaba. It was a kosher restaurant with some of the best hummus she tasted outside of Israel. The falafel was awful, but Ziva enjoyed the pita bread and the Israeli-imported Coca-Cola, not to say anything of the kindly couple that ran the family-owned restaurant. She used to come here all the time with Michael.
In fact, the last time she'd been here was the morning of his death. He wanted her to pick up some pita bread that morning and he was going to 'surprise' her with dinner that night. Of course, it is hard to surprise a Mossad agent, a fact Michael knew which was why he was so upfront about it.
Michael who she knew since her early days at Mossad and Michael who she loved. Ziva always knew there was a day when Michael would cease to exist, but she had expected it to be in some foreign country Tony couldn't pronounce. She would, of course, go after the killer in such a likely case.
But that all changed. Lines crossed and blurred beyond belief when Tony began to color inside and outside of them. The emotions that raged through her as she saw his panicked face stare up at her, with eyes that held no regret for the shooting but something Ziva never did identify. It was a foreign element. She had not seen it on Tony's face since.
She had found an engagement ring in his suitcase later. No one seemed to know about it and Ziva hid it inside her underwear drawer, not wanting people to know about that detail. But she was certain that if Michael had asked, she would have agreed.
"What is wrong with them?" Ziva asked, confused as she saw the charred building and her mind struggled to comprehend the slurs in America of all places. America, melting land of the pot or however the saying went.
"Arson," Gibbs explained, "Someone hates Israel over there, but we're here to pick up the body in an alleyway. No connection to the fire yet."
"Coincidence?" Tony asked
Gibbs growled everyone into silence as he parked the car. Everyone knew just how he felt about coincidences.
Ziva quietly read the Arabic and English slurs, her heart pounding as she inwardly raged against the horrible man who wanted death to Israel and all Jews. Her neck felt empty without the Star of David, but Ziva didn't know if she could wear that particular one just yet again. Her father had given it to her.
Ducky pulled up next to them, shaking his head as he descended from the car, "It's a shameful thing, isn't it my dear?" He addressed her with a warm smile, "Come along, let's go and see this navy officer."
"Okay," Ziva nodded, gripping her bag. Tony was taking pictures of the damage and the slurs. He was shaking his head at an English one that brazenly read, "Jews Are Pigs."
The owners were crying and speaking in rapid Hebrew, too upset to converse in stilted English. McGee was getting nowhere with them and finally called Ziva over to his side. She smiled warmly and hugged both of them, conveying her sympathies. They were old friends from what felt like a lifetime ago now. Yuval and Miriam Sharansky, who always made a point of greeting Ziva whenever she showed up at the restaurant and wanting to know everything new in her life. They did not deserve what had happened.
"Ma Slommech?" Yuval asked her warmly, delighted to see her despite the occasion. They had, after all, two unmarried sons. Ziva laughed weakly,
"He asked me how I am." She explained to McGee before turning to the man.
"Ain li boker tov, k'atem. Aval, ani szareek l'daya eem atem yodeem…" She paused, "B'angleet, eem atem yodeem al ha'eesh mi..." She left her sentence unfinished, trying to find the right words for an adjective lost in translation. How to describe such a person who would do such a thing?
"This man who pissed on our heritage, that is what you mean," Yuval declared with feeling, an older Israeli with gray hair and a wisp of a beard. He was grasping his wife, Miriam, who didn't seem to have any words in her mind. Odd, considering that usually she was full of words.
"We know nothing except sadness today." Miriam finally told Ziva, "And you." She smiled sadly, "You don't come anymore." Her warm eyes showed that she remembered a once-frequent customer.
"I don't. I am sorry." Ziva apologized, "I have been in Israel for the last few months. I meant to come soon." That was a lie, but the couple didn't need to know that. Her heart ached too much when she came and saw the familiar surroundings where she and Michael had spent time together.
"V'Michael?" Miriam pressed, glancing at Ziva's ringless hand, "Hoo eesh tov."
Tim blinked, surprised by the conversation's turn. He wondered what Ziva had said to them in Hebrew.
"Michael was a good man." Ziva agreed softly, shuttering her eyes. The woman seemed to know Michael's fate and didn't press further. She hesitated, before turning to her husband.
"Yuval-"
"Ah, ah, ani lo yodah mah b'rosh shelli." Yuval countered softly
"He doesn't want to know what is in her head." Ziva explained with a chuckle, "Yuval, Miriam, my friend needs you to answer his questions now."
"Of course. You will find man who pisses on us?" Yuval turned to Tony
"We will," McGee said politely, glancing at Ziva with an obvious question on his mind. Ziva would answer it later for him.
Ziva headed out to the scene to see this ex-navy man. Gibbs was listening to Ducky drone on. Tony came up, pointing to a spot by the Dumpster.
"Tags I.D him as Lt. Jared Booth, boss" Tony reported, surveying the rest of the remains. "Someone wanted to make sure we knew his identity, since they put the tags away from his body." Tony held up the bag with the tags in them,
"There's also a phone here." Ducky added, pointing to his left hand, "It's melted into the skin now, but I'll retrieve as much of it as I can for Abby."
"Time of death?" Gibbs asked, crouching down to peer at the half-charred body.
"Impossible, as his liver is charred beyond any recognition." Ducky shook his head with annoyance, surveying the burnt half of Jared Booth. His face was still intact, and handsome though tragically so. He also reeked of beer, a strong American ale from the smell of it. Ducky looked over at Gibbs, "I'll be able to tell you that once we take him to the lab."
"Fire stared around 0100, according to the firefighters. They're pretty sure it's arson right now." Tony added, taking another picture.
"He was dead prior to the fire." Ducky spoke, inspecting the former officer's charred hands. One was gripping his abdomen, just below his ribs. Classic sign of a bullet nicking a fatal artery. First reaction was to put pressure on the wound and rigor mortis often set in that way.
"I'm guessing a bullet," Ducky added with some authority, "And he bled out before his remains became charred. Jimmy, you have a sample of the puddles?" He called out, "Abby will want them."
Jimmy nodded, taking another picture of the man's head, "Looks like he was killed here, but the blood's everywhere." Jimmy held up his boot, as if demonstrating how much the blood had stained the various puddles throughout the alley.
"The rain was good for the fire, not so for our body." Duck said, shaking his head, "Most of the evidence is compromised, but I'm sure I can work a miracle or two, Gibbs."
"Bag and tag everything." Gibbs called out, "Ducky, is there an exit wound?"
"Not that I can see." Ducky shook his head, "It's probably half melted inside the poor fellow. We'll find it." He assured Gibbs, shaking his head, "You had a difficult death," He addressed the corpse, "Bleeding out and then burnt postmortem. Not a pretty way to go. But then, is death ever pretty?" He mused thoughtfully
"Bag and tag," Gibbs called out, surveying the alley with distaste.
Ziva went to go grab another evidence bag out of the truck when she caught sight of another familiar face that made her smile.
"Ziva!" Nadav called out, running over to her with an easy smile. Nadav Sharansky, the oldest of Yuval's unmarried sons, was a good friend of Ziva's in DC. Even so, she hadn't seen him since Michael's death either. Seeing him now, with his lanky brown hair and warm green-gold eyes, she regretted that choice. Nadav had always been a nice guy, after all. He reminded her of all the good things about Ari.
"Nadav!" Ziva laughed and hugged him, delighted to see him, "Your mother called?"
"Yes, she said that she had seen my old friend, Ziva David." Nadav explained, "I had to see if it was true." He shook his head, looking at the damage to the restaurant, muttering a curse in Hebrew, "I did not think it was this bad. I'll have to call Pavel and Yair."
"Better see your mother first," Ziva told him lightly, "The good news is that it is not too bad on the inside. The only real damage is to the right wall and the front exterior. Your mother can still cook."
"Only reason why she's still living and demanding to know why I haven't married a nice Jewish girl yet," Nadav joked, eyes twinkling, "Wanted me to get over here and propose before I let you slip out of my fingers."
"Nadav…" Ziva said warningly
"Don't worry. You know I never listen to my mother." Nadav assured her, "So you will have to find a different man." He glanced up casually toward where Tony was eying him, "Perhaps the one that looks like he wants to kill me right now?" He suggested with a chuckle, "Although I don't think he's Jewish."
Ziva turned to look at Tony and laughed, "You would be right." She hesitated, "I need to go, since I'm on the job. But let's meet up later for drinks."
"Still have the same number, elusive Mossad officer?" Nadav teased her
"Ex-Mossad now," Ziva said lightly, "So you will have to call me elusive NCIS agent. And yes, it should be the same number." She nodded before walking off toward the crime scene and Tony.
"Old boyfriend?" Tony asked casually, taking a picture of her as she squinted her eyes at him in annoyance.
"Nadav is a friend." She said lightly, looking up at the phone wires, to where a pair of boots were laced together and thrown over the wire, "What is that?"
Tim answered her query, "That's a pair of boots tied to each other and thrown over a phone line by a bully who didn't want some defenseless little boy to have his shoes. So the kid had to walk home in his socks on a rainy day and nearly turned his toes blue."
Ziva looked at McGee who turned a light shade of red before clearing his throat,
"Or so I've been told." He said lightly
"Bullies do this?" Ziva asked, "To children?"
Tony nodded, "It's fairly common."
"Children do not wear black combat boots." Ziva commented, "I think our killer was trying to hide evidence in plain sight."
"DiNozzo, go get that. Good job, David." Gibbs said, coming up behind them. Ziva smiled to herself as Tony groaned inwardly and took a picture of the boots, not looking forward to retrieving them. He'd have to wait all day for a cherry-picker while everyone else was all nice and warm inside the office.
"I can stay," Ziva volunteered, "I have not had the opportunity to use a cherry-popper."
"Cherry-picker." Tony corrected lightly, "And I have opportunity with both things." He said with a grin, already regretting his untasteful joke. Gibbs slapped him for it.
"DiNozzo, stay here. David, I need you at the office telling me about this man." Gibbs said clearly, sticking with his first choice. Both nodded without protest, wanting to live.
Ziva nodded, packing up her toolbox as Tony snapped a few more pictures. He handed the memory card to McGee, who gave him a fresh one.
---
"Here, Daddy?" Parker asked, one eye closed and his hands too far up on the bat. Seeley Booth chuckled,
"Little lower, Parker." He watched his son grip the bat handle lower with the happy-go-lucky smile that Rebecca claimed was 'all Seeley.'
"Okay. Ready, son?" Booth asked, holding the plastic white ball, slightly bigger then a baseball and unlikely to damage even a toddler. But Booth made Parker wear a helmet for the practice. Parker always complained that his ears itched.
"Ready Daddy." Parker bent lower, his eyes dancing as he waited for Booth to throw.
Booth chuckled and lightly pitched the ball over the plate. Inhaling a large breath of air, Parker exhaled it as his bat connected with the ball and it sailed easily over their fence. Booth laughed and Parker, throwing off his helmet in victory, yelled out,
"Grand Slam!" He ran across the bases, but Booth tackled him lightly before he hit home and assaulted Parker with a tickle attack that had him in giggles.
"No fair, Daddy!" Parker cried out, still laughing all the same, "You promised!" He wriggled around, trying to get away from Booth's masterful fingers.
"Well-" Booth started when the doorbell rang. Smiling, Booth released Parker and let his son dart over and touch home base.
"I win!" Parker yelled, dancing around the base.
"Yeah you do. Now let's go inside and get you cleaned up. That's probably your mother with these clothes." Booth said, "Unless she's already on the plane…" He mused. Rebecca was with Dan, her boyfriend, flying to some secluded fancy vacation destination while Booth spent the week with Parker. Parker, in typical Parker fashion, had forgotten about half his suitcase and Rebecca had been too lovey-dovey with Dan to realize it at the time.
"Okay." Parker sighed and tromped inside, "I like our house better then our old apartment, Daddy." He added as they tromped inside the two story house.
"Me too." Booth said, ruffling Parker's head. It'd been an impulse buy, but he hadn't regretted it since the house was dirt cheap and it was the sort of house that was perfect for raising a family in.
Only, he wasn't exactly raising a family as a bachelor in his late thirties with an eight year old son that spent most of his time with his mother. But it'd been too tempting to pass up. And the lease on his apartment had gone up to highway robbery.
Plus Bones liked it here.
Booth opened the door, expecting to see the mother of his son. They looked so alike with matching blond hair and babyfaces. Only Rebecca usually seemed to have an annoyed expression on her face half the time.
However, Booth saw a woman with brown eyes darker then his own, a beautiful tan, and ebony hair neatly braided down her back. The man next to her didn't look like he could shave yet, though he was quick to pull out his badge.
"NCIS," They explained in tandem and Booth nodded, recognizing the acronyms.
"My daddy's FBI," Parker declared impudently, "Can I show them your badge, Daddy?" Booth could see the woman smiling despite herself.
"They know I'm FBI, buddy," Booth said lightly, "Let's just let these nice NCIS agents in."
Parker nodded, "What's NICS mean?" He asked, Booth sighed and opened the door wider for the two agents to come in, which they did so.
"NCIS. Naval Criminal Intelligence Service," Booth casually glanced at the way that the woman's hips swayed. Clasping his hands on Parker, he smiled embarrassedly at the agents, "Sorry, I didn't catch your names."
"Special Agent Ziva David," The woman explained lightly
"Special Agent Tim McGee," The man added, putting away his badge.
"Well I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth as I'm sure you know and this-" Booth ruffled Parker's hair, "-Is Parker, who needs to go do his homework."
Parker sighed, "Fiiine," He walked off, "But Daddy, if they found a finger I wanna see it!"
"I'll think about it!" Booth called back, having no intention to let Parker do that, "Can I help you folks?" He asked, assuming this had something to do with his Army Ranger days.
"We have a body that has been positively identified as Jared Booth," Ziva explained to him softly, knowing he'd need a few minutes to collect himself before he could answer any questions.
"Are you sure?" Booth was stunned, "How was he murdered?" His brow furrowed, "Who would want to murder him?" Booth frowned, "Are you sure it's Jared?"
"He was found with his tags, and our medical examiner confirmed from the fingerprints." McGee explained to him, "We need to ask you where you were last night between 2300 and 0100."
The woman, Ziva, only looked at him with these almost catlike eyes of hers, not saying anything.
"Asleep in my bed," Booth said coolly, "And let me tell you right now that I didn't kill my brother." He shook his head, "Jared had his demons, especially alcohol…I didn't even know that he was in town." He muttered, kicking himself for not paying more attention to Jared.
His little brother was dead? Booth couldn't believe it.
"Why? His primary residence is this address." Ziva spoke, frowning
"I've been living here for the last two months. Jared helped me move in, but that was about it. He lives on his Harley these days. But that explains why I always got his mail though." Booth pointed over to a table at the end with mail piled up for Jared.
"We'll need to take that." Ziva said softly, walking over to collect the mail and put it in an evidence bag.
"When was the last time you talked to him?" McGee asked
"Just before Parker's mother dropped him off yesterday morning." Booth said, "Jared said he might drop by in a month or two. Wanted to know how I was doing, mostly. I didn't ask where he was. I just assumed he was still in…" Booth paused, thinking, "Philadelphia. That's where we grew up. Jared likes the bars there so I assumed he was going to be smashed for a few more weeks before driving again."
McGee nodded, scribbling things down.
"I'd like to identify Jared for myself and see how your team is doing on this case." Booth said quietly, "Just for today, of course, since I have my own work tomorrow. I'm impressed that you do weekends."
"Weekend shifts." Ziva corrected him lightly, as she crossed back over to where McGee was standing, "And we will have to run it by our boss." She wasn't being rude, but it wasn't quite friendly either.
"I'll take care of that," Booth said, pulling out his phone, "Jared's my only family." He said quietly and he saw that his statement had an effect on Ziva. At least she seemed to sympathize.
Booth dialed a buddy of his within the FBI. Most folks were afraid of Tobias Fornell, but Booth had nothing but respect for the senior officer. He was all but lauded by field agents in the FBI for being something of a maverick and charming enough that even administrators couldn't find fault with him.
"Booth, this is a surprise." Fornell said lightly, "I'm afraid Emily's at Melissa's house today for a doll party. But bring Parker by and we'll have a man's party. Steelers vs Colts,"
Booth laughed. It also helped that Emily and Parker happened to be in the same grade and good enough friends that Parker hadn't called 'cooties' on her yet. And Fornell liked the same teams that Booth did, having grown up in Pennsylvania.
"We'll have to do that another day. I just found out that my brother was murdered and NCIS is investigating."
Tobias was silent for a few moments. He knew what Booth was angling for, "My condolences, Seeley. Who's the lead agent?"
"I'm speaking with Agents McGee and David." Booth said, glancing at them
"Good. Your brother's murder will be handled by the best of the best then." Fornell assured him, "I'll call Agent Gibbs for you and you should be able to work as an observer. Understand?"
"Oh yeah." Booth said coolly, "Thanks Tobias."
They hung up and Booth smiled fakely, "That was uh, Agent Fornell. He's given me the all clear to observe your team for the day."
"You are on first names with him." Ziva noted
"We've never worked on a case together, but our kids are good friends." Booth explained lightly, "Your boss will call any second with the news and you should probably explain that I have to bring a charming eight year old with me."
Sure enough, McGee's cell rang and he picked up, walking out of earshot. Booth turned to Ziva and smiled warmly,
"Can I get you anything to drink?"
She shook her head, "You were a sniper." She stated coolly
"Army Ranger sniper, yes I was." Booth nodded, "I was in involved in special ops, but that's not me anymore." He flickered toward Ziva's hands, "And you?"
She did not respond, but only curved her face in a small smile, "I did many things on behalf of my country, Israel. And now I am becoming a citizen to honor America, my new country."
"I'm impressed. I don't think there's any country in the world as patriotic as Israel." Booth said with authority, "America's lucky to have you."
"Thank you, Agent Booth." She smiled warmly, "It is very hard, this new allegiance." She made a little squinty face that triggered his mind to a memory featuring his favorite woman: Bones, doing that same exact squint. Only she looked cuter doing it.
McGee came back in, "Gibbs gave him the all-clear."
Ziva nodded, "Then we will go. You know where our headquarters are, Agent Booth?"
"Call me Booth, I'm off duty. Parker!" Booth called out, grabbing two jackets. One for him and a smaller one for Parker.
Parker skidded in, eyes bright, "You're taking me to see a finger, Daddy?"
"No fingers today, buddy. I'm taking you to go see the NCIS building." Booth said, helping Parker get into his jacket, "Where you are going to behave like the little gentleman that your mother is raising you to be,"
Ziva stifled a chuckle
"Okay." Parker said enthusiastically, "What are we going to see?"
"I'm going to see a dead body and you are going to see the coffee machine, buddy." Booth said, "And tomorrow after school, I'll take you to the carnival if you don't tell your mother where Daddy took you."
"Deal!" Parker said, bounding down, "Who died?"
"No one you know." Booth said lightly, "They just want some input from me." He zipped up Parker's jacket and looked at the two agents, "Right?"
Parker didn't wait to hear their response, already outside inspecting Ziva's Mini-Coop and demanding to sit in front. Ziva laughed at Booth's pained expression,
"You both can come with us." Ziva said cheerfully, "McGee can sit in back with you."
"Actually," McGee hesitated, thinking of Ziva's driving, "Your son might be more comfortable with you. Agent David drives like there's IEDs on the road."
"After my trip to London, I swore that I wasn't getting back into one of these things." Booth admitted, eying the car, "But I don't mind if Parker goes with you as long as he wears his seatbelt."
"In that case, I should go with you," McGee countered, "For directions and my own sanity."
Booth chuckled, "Fine then. Parker! You mind if the pretty lady drives you?" He called out, "Daddy's taking his own car."
"Your car is boring." Parker sniffed as if that settled it and Ziva laughed, walking away with the same delectable sway that Booth couldn't help but notice. Damn, it'd been a while since he noticed any girl but Bones walking around.
"Er, Booth?" McGee probed, knowing what he was doing.
Booth snapped out of it and sighed, "Right then, Agent McGee. My car's in the garage."
---
Tony sat at his desk, holding an ice pack to the back of his chest. That was the last time that he was using a cherry picker. He had fallen off again, because the damn machine stopped a foot before ground-level and he hadn't noticed. At least the evidence was already bagged and the blood at the bottom of the soles looked promising as a match to Jared Booth.
"FUN!" Tony heard a little kid declare as the elevator doors opened. A blur of blond came into the offices, with big brown eyes craning toward everything and talking too fast for Tony to comprehend in his compromised state.
"Oh Tony, what happened to you?" Ziva asked, her worried eyes on Tony
"I fell," Tony said manfully, "Just a little bump, nothing worse then when Gibbs smacks me." He glanced toward Parker, "Who's the kid?"
"I'm Parker Booth and when I grow up, I'm going to be an FBI agent just like my daddy. But maybe I'll marry an NCIS agent like Ziva." Parker said, gazing at Ziva with reverent admiration. Ziva laughed,
"You are too charming, Parker." Ziva told him indulgently, "Do you want to buy a candy bar?" She added, handing him a small bill and showing him where the vending machines were. He sped off, just as he had entered: a bundle of energy.
"He's the nephew," Ziva explained lightly, "And his father hasn't explained that it's Jared Booth in autopsy. Insisted on coming in himself to see and Parker wanted to drive with me." Ziva shrugged, "He enjoys my driving." She added smugly
"Of course. The kid has a death wish." Tony said lightly, "Ducky hasn't found the bullet, but he's certain that it was a sniper who shot him down, though an inexperienced one, probably, considering where the bullet ended up."
"Unless the sniper wanted him to suffer." Ziva said quietly
"Velocity of the shot shows that it came from a building about 100 yards away from the alley." Tony continued, looking through a file, "Abby's calculating the trajectory of the bullet, based on where it entered the victim and I'm looking at Seeley Booth's file. Impressive sniper in the Rangers."
"He did not do it." Ziva said firmly, "But I want to canvass the local bars. See if any of them saw our victim before he died. Booth says his brother had an alcohol problem."
Tony groaned, "Ziva, that area is Bar Central. There's twenty bars all within spitting distance of that alley."
"Spitting?" Ziva frowned, "That is not more then three feet and I do not think that is an accurate measure of distance."
"It's an expression." Tony said, sighing.
"I do not like these expressions." Ziva said in frustration, "They do not make sense and no one understands my expressions?" She muttered something in Hebrew and went to her desk. Parker came back, munching on a candy bar. Instead of bothering Ziva, he went over to Tony,
"What do you do?" He asked, curious
"I'm the Senior Field Agent here at NCIS, so I solve crimes with my team here." Tony said lightly, turning to look at Parker. He was a cute little kid with tumbling blond hair and an almost mischievous expression on his face.
"My daddy's an agent too at FBI. He solves crimes with Dr. Bones. She lets us use her pool." Parker said knowledgeably, "He can also eat steaks the size of my head."
"So can I," Tony muttered, quickly losing interest in what Parker had to say.
"My parents never got married. Are you married?" Parker pressed
"Nope." Tony said, "And I don't plan to be, buddy."
"Do you have a girlfriend?" Parker asked, "My daddy doesn't. Or if he does, he never tells me because we're not allowed to talk about that stuff until I have armpit hair." Parker checked underneath his arms as if to see. Ziva stifled a chuckle.
"No girlfriend, Parker." Tony said quietly, hoping that Ziva wouldn't hear the admission. She probably had with her bat-like hearing.
"Why?"
"Too busy solving crimes like your dad." Tony explained lightly
"I don't get that. They're already dead so you can wait an extra day without worrying about them dying." Parker said logically, "Unless it's a serial killer. My daddy puts serial killers in jail all the time." He boasted, "He carries a gun, but I'm not allowed to touch it or talk about guns until I get armp-."
"Parker!" Booth's voice boomed and he sighed with relief, picking up an unhurt Parker as he glanced toward Ziva,
"Man, I thought your Agent McGee was exaggerating. But that was a very well executed three point turn. I've never seen anyone do one so fast in the middle of a traffic intersection."
"Thank you." Ziva said, modestly, "I'm afraid Parker's enthusiasm got to me a bit."
"He does have a lot of enthusiasm doesn't he?" Booth set him down with a chuckle, "Okay, could someone take me to Autopsy? Parker can behave himself for three seconds."
"But not five." Parker added, giggling
"Sure. Come on, Parker, I've got a game on my computer that you might like." McGee said kindly and Parker nodded cheerfully
"No guns!" Booth added quickly before following Ziva. After an initial hesitation, Tony leapt up to join them while Parker played McGee's car game and McGee made a few inquiries with the arson inspectors over at the local firestation.
In the elevator, Booth felt something shift. There was a charged air around him and he glanced toward the two other people in the elevator. They were on either side of him, not talking, but Booth felt like he was intruding on something all the same.
"So uh," Booth spoke out, "Seeley Booth," he introduced himself to the man, who was slightly shorter than he, though no less formidable.
"Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo," Tony introduced himself, shaking Booth's hand. From the way he eyed Booth, Booth was fairly certain that Tony was all but positive that he was shaking the hand of Jared's killer.
"How much do you know about Jared?" Booth asked coolly, tucking his hands into his pockets.
"I know he sacrificed his career for his big brother," Tony said off-handedly, as if mentioning a football game.
"You got something to say about how I take care of my family?" Booth asked sharply
"Tony," Ziva spoke quietly, her eyes soft, "Booth, we know he saved your life. I still cannot believe that you had the energy to even make it off that ship." She smiled warmly at him and Booth glanced toward her, his anger quickly dissolving,
"Yeah, I wasn't supposed to die that day. Made it off with that thought in mind." He explained heavily, "I tried to get Jared a job, but he just wanted to go off on that stupid bike and…" Booth paused, "I probably would've joined him if I didn't have Parker." And Bones, his mind added instinctively, "Uh, he started his trip about six months back. Sent me postcards if I didn't get the hotel bills." His voice broke off, "God, I can't believe this. He's my kid brother."
"I know how you feel." Ziva said quietly, handing him a tissue that seemed to come out of nowhere.
A nerve of irritation ran through Tony as he noticed how well Ziva and Booth got along. It only served to cement Tony's belief in two things. A: FBI agents were the messengers of Evil. B: That Seeley Booth killed his brother.
"Maybe I should just get off and let you two continue this conversation in private." Tony suggested lightly and Ziva glared at him for his insensitivity. Booth appeared to have no response.
"Booth." Tony said it out loud, "Like the guy who killed Lincoln, huh?"
Booth sighed, "Not that it matters, but he's a distant relative. But unlike him, the only people I've ever assassinated were for the good of my country."
"Me too," Ziva said lightly, and her eyes sparkled, "How many?"
Booth's grin broadened and he tilted his head, looking at Ziva with interest, "Guess." He raised an eyebrow and Ziva let out a burst of laughter before putting her searching look on him. Tony did not like this. Not at all.
And thankfully, the doors opened before anyone could respond to Booth's dare.
Gibbs was on the other side, and nodded seeing them. The three filed out of the elevator, Booth looking at Gibbs. Neither said anything before Booth broke the silence by nodding at Gibbs,
"I know you: Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Desert Storm. Our commander told my unit how you saved him while managing to take out ten insurgents in a kill zone."
Gibbs chuckled, "Not as dramatic as Matthews makes it sound." He pauses, "How's his family?"
"His wife re-married last year and Ellen's graduating high school this year." Booth said softly, "We were taken out in the same attack. Only I didn't come home in a body bag."
"You're an FBI agent now?" Gibbs asked, raising his eyebrow, "Former military career?"
"Used to be a sergeant. However, I'm not fit for military duty, so I joined FBI." Booth explained lightly, "Special Agent Seeley Booth."
"Shame. I could use a man like you on my team." Gibbs glanced at Tony and Ziva, "Fornell vouches for Agent Booth and so do I." He paused, "And the little boy I've yet to meet is not allowed in autopsy, Agent."
"Of course." Booth nodded soberly, "I don't want my kid having nightmares about dead bodies. That can really mess a person up." He pauses, "Thank you, Gunny." He says kindly, using Gibbs' former military nickname.
"Call me Gibbs," Gibbs told him quietly, "I haven't been a gunny since I was nearly sent home in a body bag myself."
Booth nodded.
"David, come up with me. DiNozzo can escort Booth to Ducky." Gibbs added, walking into the elevator. Ziva followed him, glancing at Booth with a small grin. No one else had won over Gibbs quite that quickly after all. Certainly not Tony.
As the doors closed, Tony stared at Booth, "You are just full of good ol' boy charisma, aren't you?"
"I prefer to think of it as charm, but we can go with your word, Agent DiNozzo." Booth said lightly before chuckling, "How long have you loved her anyway?" His brown eyes bore through Tony's with a knowing look.
"What?" Tony asked
"Never mind." Booth shrugged, "Where's my brother?" He asked and Tony led him to Ducky's, not wanting to ask Booth what he'd meant by that last innocuous comment.
Booth sucked in a breath, seeing Jared. He was naked and lying on the stainless steel table like a slab of meat. He'd seen dead bodies before. Bodies of babies and young women. Bodies of men like him and old people. But this was a body among the bodies.
This was the body of his baby brother.
"Choke up on the bat, Jared."
"Like this?"
"No, you're still too short. Two fists higher, Jer."
"Here?"
"Good job, Jer. You ready, little brother?"
"Make it fast, Seel. I'm a-gonna hit it."
"Open your eyes first. You can't hit anything if you don't open your eyes."
"They're open!"
"Good. Okay Jer, here we go…"
---
"Yep, I recognize him." The bartender said, squinting his eyes at the picture, "Jared's a regular."
Ziva smiled, "When did you see him last?"
"Well, my memory might be better if you bought a drink. Sales have been slow lately." The bartender said, pushing the picture back to Ziva, "His best friend is Sam Adams, though I can tell you that."
Having heard this previously from a different bartender (who knew Jared but hadn't seen him in months) Ziva knew that Sam Adams was not a person but a drink. A drink that the man expected her to buy in exchange for information on Jared.
Ziva sighed. She had already bought five drinks, none of them drunk (as it was the middle of the day and she was on the clock, as Tony would say). But she was looking for a lead and this was the closest she would get. And she wasn't allowed to use her usual techniques after the Legal Department sent her a memo detailing how to properly question her prospective witnesses for the third time. She did not want to have to pay that stupid penalty again. A beer was cheaper.
"Fine." She handed over the money for a frothy mug of Sam Adams beer that she would never drink. The bartender pocketed her money with a beam,
"He came in yesterday, didn't feel like talking. He just sat there and had three of my Sam Adams before I had to chase him out for groping a few lady customers." The bartender pointed up to the camera, "You can have the tape."
"Thank you," Ziva said, brightly and as a small celebration, she took a sip of her drink. Her eyes brightened, "This is good."
"It's the best Sam Adams in town, I like to think." The man boasted, his eyes sparkling, "Jared usually comes in once a month or so to enjoy it. Hope he hasn't gotten himself into too much trouble this time."
"He's dead," Ziva explained softly
"That's a shame. Better take this then." The bartender went underneath the bar and came out with a cold beer of Sam Adams, "He'll need this for his grave, Agent David. Wouldn't be fitting otherwise."
"Thank you." Ziva said, surprised and accepted the free beer. She took another sip of her beer before leaving with the tape and Jared's after-death drink.
She got back into the car with McGee and held up the tape,
"He says Jared was in his establishment last night, groping women."
"We'll go back and see." McGee nodded, and set down his phone, "Firefighters finally confirmed that it's the work of an arsonist, but a sloppy one at that. Only one point of origin and in an odd place for someone aiming to flameball the restaurant."
"He was trying to burn Jared." Ziva nodded logically, "The restaurant arson was a cover for a screw up the man made. Sloppy cover-up. Something happened to him that the killer burnt away. What's Abby got on the boots?"
"We'll know when we get back." McGee said, putting the car in ignition, "Oh and Tony says that you've got a thing for Booth. The alive one."
Ziva scoffed, "Tony says many things. You should know that McGee."
"That's true." McGee admitted, "So you aren't going to ask him for a drink after this is done?"
"I may." Ziva shrugged, "Booth is very appealing, but…" She paused, "I think he is in love with someone. You should not tell Tony anything except the first part of what I have said."
"Well that seems fair." Tim mused thoughtfully.
Ziva laughed as McGee put the car into drive. They both enjoyed messing with Tony's head too much sometimes.
---
Tony was eying Booth silently as Booth read the case file on Jared. He hadn't said a word since they had left Ducky's lab.
"I need to go make a call." Booth muttered and his eyes softened, seeing Parker asleep under McGee's desk. Poor kid had tuckered himself out after running around the whole office. Booth shrugged his jacket off and covered Parker with it, smiling sadly.
Parker had loved his Uncle Jared who told him armpit-hair things. That's what uncles were for anyway. Especially uncles like Cool Uncle Jared. Booth still had the picture of when Jared hoisted Parker up on his Harley and made motor noises for the kid, both of them laughing.
It was going to be difficult to tell Parker, but Booth was determined to keep it from him for now. Parker would find out later. Much later.
Standing up, he walked over by the window, looking at his cell phone. Sighing, he flickered through the different numbers before pressing Call. Pressing his phone to his ear, he glanced outside at the view of Washington DC, trying to see if the Jeffersonian was within eyeshot.
"Hey Bones," Booth spoke casually, feeling anything but casual right now.
---
I so don't get this whole double space policy, but w/e. I'm proud of how it's coming out. Feels a little longish though...
Even though it's been two years, a girl still loves to get reviews---*hint*