To Keep Me Warm
by channeld
written for: the NFA Paranormal challenge
rating: K plus
pairings: none (well, a surprise one at the end)
genre: crack!fic/humor
spoilers: a few very mild season 8 references
disclaimer: I still own nothing of NCIS. More's the pity...
The cold December day in Washington, D.C. was complete with falling temperatures, falling snow, and lowering clouds. It was as cold as a congressman's heart. Cold enough to drive out of their lairs the creatures of nightmares (not just congressmen), and this is the story of one such one that headed for the pivotal point of the District: the Navy Yard.
It was just another day at NCIS. Just any old bitter cold, the-heat's-off-again, oh-please-don't-send-us-out-in-the-field-Boss day.
"Boss, I'm not usually one to complain, but…can't we wait until it's a warmer day to go out to fight crime?" Tim pleaded. "Boss?" He looked around. Gibbs had vanished, again.
"That sounds like a plan, Timothy," said Ducky, coming up to them, rubbing his cold hands. "I see no immediate need to go out. Any bodies will keep just fine in this weather." He left to go back to Autopsy, leaving his associate, Jimmy, to linger.
"Adding to that, it's dark. It's as dark as night," Tony remarked.
"That is because it is night, Tony," Ziva countered. "It is 1 a.m. Where did the time go? I do not feel like I have been here that long…"
"No, it's 1 p.m.," Tony retorted. "It's just…as dark as night. Strange things are happening."
Wolves howled. "Stop that, Tony," Ziva said, trying to concentrate on her work.
"I didn't say anything."
"You made a wolf noise."
"No, I think these guys outside the window made the wolf noises," said Tim. He beckoned to the others who joined him, looking out at the ground below. There four wolves wearing flashy suit coats over their pronounced hairy forms loitered under a streetlamp, standing on their hind legs and whistling at the women who walked by.
Ziva dismissed that with a wave of her hand. "I see them every night. It was not them that I heard. I heard a wolf howl, not whistle. Like this…" She threw back her head and howled, loudly.
"That's rather high-pitched," Tony tried to say over her sounds. "Are you sure it wasn't more like this?" He, too, began to howl, his deeper voice complimenting hers.
"A real wolf sounds more like this," said Tim, joining in with the howls." Jimmy, too, howled, as did a few of the other personnel around them.
"What on earth is going on down there?" thundered Gibbs, standing beside Vance, on the balcony.
"There's, uh, there are wolves outside, boss," Tim explained feebly.
"I've seen them. They're harmless."
Suddenly, a horrible sound rumbled the windows and echoed through the building. "What in the name of Rod Serling was that?" Tony yelped, scrambling to get to the window. He was just in time to see the wolves run off, leaving two approaching women looking miffed at not getting whistled at.
The sound came again, and it was even more horrible this time. Strong men in the room fainted, and strong women clenched their teeth. "One more time," Ziva muttered. "One more time…"
As if whatever was making the sounds heard her, it screamed again. Ziva closed her eyes and smiled, and then let loose a good copy of the roar.
"Probationary Agent David!" Vance cried, his hands over his ears. "What do you think you're doing?"
She smiled in fond memory. "Where I grew up, Director, we did not have mockingbirds. But we had heard of them. So my sister and I would pretend to be mockingbirds. We became quite good at imitating sounds of all kinds. Shall I demonstrate again?"
"No!" everyone around her shouted.
"That doesn't answer the question, though," said Tim, "of what is really making that sound?"
Ducky appeared then in the squad room. "I could hear the noise all the way down in Autopsy! I haven't heard a sound like that in a very, very long time…"
"Do you know what it is, Duck?" Gibbs said, looking out the window. The wolves still had not returned to the streetlamp. No one could be seen outside. Darkness and cold retained their grip.
"Yes, I think so," Ducky mused. "It was long ago and far away. I was the medical officer on an expedition in the merciless depths of winter; just like now. Our leader was a strapping, muscular young man; just out of Cambridge. He had a lot of confidence in his abilities. Misplaced confidence. He—"
The unearthly scream came again; louder this time. The men who had come to after fainting fainted again.
"The shorter version, please, Ducky," Tony begged.
"Yes. Well, we were on the trail of a beast never before documented; only rumored. It was the…yeti!"
"The yeti? An abominable snowman, in the UK?" Gibbs raised an eyebrow.
"Well, the leader was better at being handsome and muscular than he was at raising funds, so we couldn't go to Asia. We had to search close to home."
"A 'yetee'? That is a little yet, yes?" asked Ziva. "Now, what is a yet?"
"It's an abominable snowman," Tim said.
"An abdominal snowman?" Ziva was clearly perplexed. "Remember, where I come from, we do not have any snowmen; much less ones specific to portions of the body."
"No, abominable. That means something loathsome."
"A lonesome snowman. Ah, I begin to understand. But McGee; a snowman is not alive. How can it scream?"
"Ms. Sciuto should hear this," Vance speculated. "She probably knows all about these things."
"No, please don't tell Abby!" Tim begged. "She'll make a pet out of it, and then foist it on me! One hairy creature in my household is enough!"
Again came the terrible, terrible sound. Ziva joined in one more time, smiling, before seeing guns drawn on her from all directions. She then stopped, and murmured, "Sorry."
"We can't have…whatever that is, a yeti or a settee, disrupting our work day. Night. Whatever," Vance snapped. "You! MCRT! Go out and deal with that thing."
" 'Deal with it'? And what if it does not want to play cards, Director?" asked Ziva.
"You need more protein in your diet," said Tony. "You're really scrambled today."
"Just go," Gibbs waved a weary hand.
Having bundled up in all the layers of clothing they could find—including double layers of gloves, and Tony borrowing Ziva's orange touque to wear over his swoop cap—Tony, Ziva and Tim headed outside. Jimmy tagged along after them.
The Yard was hushed in the dark. You would expect to see people out in the middle of the afternoon, but none were about.
"I don't like it," said Tony. "Isn't it around now when creepy music starts playing and then the danger—do you hear that?"
Ziva headbutted Jimmy and snatched the oboe from his hands. "You are not helping!"
"Sorry. Doctor Mallard doesn't like it when I play this during autopsies, either."
"What are you doing out here, Palmer?" Tony demanded.
Jimmy flung his gloved hands wide, almost hitting Ziva and Tim. "I don't know. Someone wrote me into this!"
Tim peered out into the gloom that was the reading audience, his face large and pale. "Do you mean…someone is watching us? Maybe lots someones?...Do you think that that some of them are…female?" He smiled a little.
"Bwah! Dream on, McGamble," Tony scoffed, but nonetheless, straightened his coat on his shoulders as he looked out in the same direction.
Music came again. "Jimmy, I told you to—"
"I'm not! Ziva, you have my oboe, still!"
"Then what—"
No sign of the music could be found, but the horrible wail came again, much louder! There was also a smell of something…something very dead.
Tony bolted for the front entrance of NCIS. "Let me in!" he cried. "Tony doesn't want to play anymore!"
"No, you don't," said Tim, grabbing his shoulder. "Gibbs told us to get this…snowman thing, and that's what we're going to do."
"Oh, thank you, McMountie," Tony sneered. "Always get your snowman; is that your motto?"
"Think, Tony! If it's a man; it would be after Ziva, anyway. Not you or me."
"Oh." Tony seemed a bit mollified, and turned away from the door. "And Ziva is more than able to take care of herself. So you don't need me out here." He spun and pounded on the locked door. "Let me in!" The security guard on the other side only smiled and waved, and then went back to reading his copy of Monsters in the Military Monthly.
Tim noticed. "Wow; the new issue's out! Cool!"
"Uh, Tony…"
"Yes, Autopsy Oboe? Or is that, Otopsy Aboe?"
"I think it's too late to try to get inside."
"What makes you say that? The five of us can…uh…" That didn't seem right. He counted again, and tried to make sure he wasn't counting himself twice. "One…two…three…four…five…Uh…" He started again. "Stand still, everyone. You're messing up my counting. Me, Palmer, Ziva, McGoo, and Hairy Thing…Hairy Thing?" With a shriek, Tony jumped into Ziva's arms for protection.
"Raaaoowwrr!" screamed the hairy thing.
"It's the beast!" Jimmy yelled.
"The abdominal snowperson!" said Ziva.
"Ziva, if this is the guy you met in Florida, I swear I take back everything I said against him!" Tony whimpered.
"What the crap is a yeti doing in Washington?" Tim wondered. Although terrified, he decided to try reasoning with it. "Look; we deal with just the Navy and the Marines, and I doubt you're a member of either group. And you're a long way from Asia, which is your home. See; I can probably show you a map on my Blackberry." He pulled out his smartphone and brought up the app. The creature looked on, interested and nodding.
"Let's get inside now," Tony hissed through clenched teeth. He grabbed Jimmy's oboe from Ziva and prepared to use it as a battering device on the door. "McGee will take one for the team. It's a shame, but these things happen. We'll have a nice wake for you, I promise, McGee. With your favorite donuts and Nutter Butters."
"Give me back my oboe!" cried Jimmy, socking Tony in the jaw. As Tony reeled, Jimmy tensely put the instrument to his lips and in his nervousness, started to play.
The yeti looked up and stared at Jimmy, and then made a new sound…one like a loud purr.
"Uh…" Jimmy backed up.
"Don't stop playing, Jimmy!" Tim urged. "I think it likes it."
Ziva dropped Tony. "More than that, McGee. I think it is a she!"
"An abdom—abominable snowwoman? Is there such a thing?" Tony asked.
"Where do you think little abdominable snowchildren come from?" Tim chided, and then shook his head. "Look; none of this is possible! These creatures don't exist!"
"Help! Help!" Jimmy cried. The big hairy beast had pulled him into an embrace.
"Thank you, Palmer! We owe you our lives!" Tony once more leaped for the door.
But Tim and Ziva had their SIGs out. "Unhand that Autopsy assistant," Tim growled. "Or it'll be you on the Autopsy table!"
The yeti shook her head firmly. She was clearly taken with Jimmy.
"Help me, guys!" Jimmy pleaded. "I don't want to have lots of hairy children! Besides; I have a girlfriend already! Blecchhhh!" he said, as the creature gave him a big kiss.
"Stop kissing, or I will shoot!" ordered Ziva. "Oh, and I am a federal agent, so you should freeze! I am supposed to say that."
"I'm the one who's freezing out here!" Tony grumbled. "That thing is wearing fur about 15 inches deep!"
"Release Jimmy," Tim added, ignoring Tony. "Release him now, or you'll be…you'll be in big trouble. You know," he said now to his friends, "Why do people always do this? Speaking to a creature like this? As if we're sure it understands English?"
"Fine," said Tony, still scratching at the door. "Speak Klingon to it. Or Hebrew. Knock yourselves out."
Jimmy had managed to pry himself loose from the yeti's grip. Once again, he started playing his oboe…
…and then, to everyone's surprise, the yeti pulled out from somewhere in her fur a piccolo, and started playing along, harmoniously matching his song.
They played to each other for a few minutes, and then walked off together into the darkness, lovely music flowing in their wake.
Now, this is the point in a story where you expect time to jump ahead, and then show off a series of postcards from the places these two lovebirds would travel to: Jimmy and yeti at the Grand Canyon. Jimmy and yeti at the Eiffel Tower. Jimmy and yeti in swim suits on a beach on the Riviera.
But that's not what happened here. Not long after the others made it inside, muttering about who could replace Jimmy in Autopsy, and more to the point, who was going to tell Ducky that his assistant had run off with an imaginary creature…
Jimmy came back.
"We realized we had our differences," he would say. "I thought she had too much hair; she thought I had too little. I don't want to think about having to clean out the shower drain. Daily."
"But what about the howling?" Ziva asked. "Is she going to stay in the area?"
"No. She's headed back for the Himalayas, where she can howl in peace. She wants to meet a nice yeti boy and settle down. Have a lot of yeti kids. Which I probably couldn't give her. Cross-species barriers, you know."
"Franken-yetis," Tony nodded. "Her people might not accept you."
"Yes, but even worse: they hate oboes. Can you imagine?" He looked distressed, but also tearful.
Ziva patted him on the shoulder. "You still have us, Jimmy."
"Thanks. I'm cold. It's good to be back inside. Where I don't need 15 inches of fur. She was nice, though. Her name is Becky."
"Now you are making that up," said Ziva, having noticed the twinkle in his eye. "Come on, Jimmy. I will fix a cup of soup for you."
The snow is snowing, the wind is blowing
But I can weather the storm!
What do I care how much it may storm?
I've got my love to keep me warm.
I can't remember a worse December
Just watch those icicles form!
What do I care if icicles form?
I've got my love to keep me warm.
Off with my overcoat, off with my glove
I need no overcoat, I'm burning with love!
My heart's on fire, the flame grows higher
So I will weather the storm!
What do I care how much it may storm?
I've got my love to keep me warm.
-Irving Berlin,
I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm
=END=