Substitute Agent-in-Charge

by channeld

written as: a tag to 9.24 Till Death Do Us Part
rating: K plus
genre: drama, angst

author's note: This is a one-shot, though it may be expanded into a longer, multi-chapter story.

disclaimer: I still own nothing of NCIS.

The streets around NCIS were crowded with rescue vehicles…seemingly, everything in the District that could be spared, and some borrowed from Maryland and Virginia as well. The flash of so many red and blue lights was dazzling, particularly as it stained the smoke and dust that still rose from the building.

"How many people do you think are still in the building?" a fire chief asked.

"I don't know," said an unhappy man, as they stood across the street in Willard Park. "I just work in HR, I can tell you how many people are stationed here, but as to how many would still be inside…?"

"Okay. You just looked calm and I thought you might know. Who would be in charge here right now?"

"To be honest…I haven't seen a single member of management."

That was bad. Very bad. Extrapolating that spoke of a terrible number of casualties.

Rescue personnel learn to tune out distractions and the cacophony of noise accompanying rescues, difficult as it was when your gut told you to listen for clues. For sounds of a building weakening. For cries for help.

His second ran up to him. "Chief; the entrance fire can be contained, but the whole front of the building is unstable. We can't go in that way. Not until a building inspector looks at it." Smoke lined her face, and she looked grim.

"Where are the other entrances?"

"There are emergency exits on the back. Those are our best bets for access. There's also a vehicle entrance on Paulding Ave. East side of the building."

"Thanks, Champlain. The sub level may be aflame. We'll try the back first,"

An older man appeared; slightly breathless, as if he had run a few blocks. Maybe he had. The man held out his badge. "Fornell, FBI. What can you tell me?"

"Car bomb, went off right in front of the building. Witnesses have said they only had a few minutes' notice."

"Everyone accounted for?"

"No."

"Agent Gibbs around? Director Vance?...Who's taken charge?"

"We haven't found anyone to do so."

"Dear God. Then management's still inside…Okay; pick me, then. I have some rank at the Bureau and I know a lot of these people. I've worked with them often."

"How about the Secretary of the Navy?"

"He's in Brussels for that NATO conference. I know that much. He's bound to hear shortly. Has anyone gotten inside yet? Any deaths that you can confirm?"

"We can't go in the front entrance yet, but we can see a couple of bodies there. Guards, it appears. Poor devils."

Fornell bit his lip. NCIS had always hired good people for that position. Those guards wouldn't have left their posts until everyone was out.

Someone signaled the fire chief and he turned to go. "Okay, Agent Fornell, We'll come to you with developments."

"I want to help inside."

The fire chief shook his head, but looked sympathetic. "No can do. Let us do our job. Give me your phone number; I'll keep you informed."

Defeated, Fornell nodded. The place was a crime scene, but right now it was more important to let the rescuers do their thing. The crime scene wasn't going anywhere, and it was more important to keep the rubberneckers out. He collared an agent he recognized and got him to grab some of his buddies to keep the gates closed to the press for now. Policemen were already closing off the nearby streets with yellow tape.

All Fornell could do now was wait for a phone call…no, on second thought, there was one he could make, to someone who he knew was in Florida right now…someone who would be needed here. He pulled out his phone.

That call done, he was glad that Ducky would be there within a few hours. He wished he hadn't had to hang up on the garrulous guy so quickly, but the likeable coot would go on and on if given an ear. By the time Ducky arrived, they would know how many bodies they had, more or less. He prayed that it would be less instead of more.

Since the rescue people wouldn't be coming out of the front entrance soon, Fornell trotted around to the back of the building. By the time he got there, the first of the walking wounded were being led out. He recognized one woman. "Agent Hall! Can you tell me what happened?"

He was practically right in her face, but she only held her head and didn't look at him. "She can't hear you, sir," said the rescuer on his arm. "The blast has left her at least temporarily deaf. Lot of people are going to be that way."

Of course. He should have known that. It was sobering. He wanted more than ever to get in and look for the people he considered his friends…but that was selfish; no one's life was more important than anyone else's. Where would they likely be? Ducky and Palmer were safely in Florida. Vance may have been in his office…too close to windows, unfortunately. Abby was probably in her lab…not good. The MCRT must have been in the squad room. Why the hell hadn't they gotten the hell out of there? Unless they'd had too little warning. That was most likely it. Fate often turned, he knew, by just not being able to move fast enough.

How many people had said, "Just let me get this done."? How many thought that doing something for their job was more important than getting themselves out? He'd done his best to drum that nonsensical thinking out of the Bureau. Sometimes records were lost, yes. But he would take human lives over records any day.

Word seemed to spread quickly that he (for better or worse) was the one In Charge. The ranking police official came to him. So did the higher ups from the nearby offices of JAG, the Marine Corps Commandant's office, and the head of the Navy Yard. It was as if he was the face of Homeland Security, and this was a known terrorist act, and Homeland Security would soothe things over and make it all better. He wanted to vent. He wanted to say, "We don't know anything yet!" Yet too many people who had made it out were willing to state that someone had told them there was a bomb outside the building. That there apparently had been a bomb where the crater was now.

Now they were starting to bring out wounded on stretchers. Uninjured employees gawked and started to crowd in, Fornell turned to one of the police officers. "Get the non-rescue people back behind the lines! This isn't a side show!"

This was something that none of them should want to see. There was a lot of blood. If there were any people with really bad wounds, or missing limbs, they might be tended to inside for a while yet, but what was coming out to waiting ambulances was bad enough.

He thought he recognized one person, and ran forward. "Leon!" This made the stretcher-bearers halt for a moment.

The Director turned his blood-streaked head toward him. "Tobias. What's the FBI doing here?" he asked weakly.

"Sticking our collective nose in, like we usually do. Do you know where Gibbs or any of your other management is?"

"No. They aren't out?" He looked pained.

"Not yet."

Vance closed his eyes for a moment. "Take command, will you, Tobias? Take care of my people…until I can…"

"Sir, we have to go now. The ambulance has to get you to the hospital and then come back for someone else," said the EMT.

"I'll do it, Leon. Rest easy."

As the EMTs took the Director off and wounded were brought out of the building, Fornell straightened up. Not my agency. I only cane because I heard the news. Yet they need me, so I'll do what I can.

It was what a fella did for his friends.

-END-