Alive
An NCIS oneshot
by mew-tsubaki
Note: The NCIS characters belong to Donald P. Bellasario, not to me. I finally have my 1st NCIS idea in a long while…and it's not for whom you'd expect. :3c Read, review, and enjoy! *Note: This contains minor spoilers for season 16, episode 13, "She."
- ^-^3
"So…I noticed that empty jar is no longer on your desk."
Thank God for potholes on this residential road. If it weren't for the one Torres had just hit and had they been out on, say, the highway or even the street to NCIS, he definitely would've swerved with notice. At least this way the pothole covered for the tight way he gripped the wheel. And, if that weren't enough, he forced a small chuckle. "Eagle-Eye Ellie notices everything, huh?" he teased, just as happy to crane his neck to search for oncoming traffic at a four-way stop as he'd been to hit that stupid pothole.
Bishop "hmm'd." He knew that meant she was pursing her lips in that "I'm not judging, but…" way. Even without looking, he knew there'd be that dimple on her chin for half a beat before she continued. "Look, I'm just saying…I hope you found a good use for it. Kasie would notice if you threw it away."
Now he scoffed and risked a glance at her before he rolled through the intersection. "No, Kasie wouldn't. Kasie has a good memory for the things we say. Abby never missed a thing she saw."
"But they both have an uncanny ability for knowing things, Nick." She raised her eyebrows and waited for him to catch her expression.
Torres rolled his eyes and groaned. Curses his abuelita had taught him and his sister—accidentally—as children came to the tip of his tongue, but he bit them back.
Bishop ducked her head and squinted out the windshield. She pointed left, to the street sign coming up past a sickly looking grayed chartreuse house. "There's our turn. The petty officer's family lives in the house at the end of the lane."
He signaled and rolled onto the dead-end street, which wasn't in nearly as rough shape as the one they'd been on. Well, as long as their conversation was over, he could stop wishing for distractions…
"All I'm saying is—"
…but of course he had no such luck, because Eleanor Bishop could be like a dog with a bone at the best of times.
"—it was a gift. Even if you don't like it, you shouldn't throw it away. Maybe keep a box somewhere. Like in your closet. Unwanted gifts can stay there, out of the way, but they're still a nice reminder someone was thinking about you."
"I didn't throw it away, Ellie," he corrected with another groan, turning the second syllable of her name into a whine.
This time she cocked one eyebrow. "You didn't?"
"It's at home. I put it to good use, scout's honor."
"Somehow I can't picture a tiny Torres in the Boy Scouts." Regardless, she cracked a blinding smile. "But I'll believe you about the jar."
"Thank you," he mumbled. He sincerely prayed for a change of topic.
"Hey, you know that case last week?"
Finally, a stroke of luck. "Yeah, the Morgan Burke abduction. What about it?"
They pulled in to the driveway of Petty Officer Nowitski's family home, a cozy little ranch with an add-on and a big front yard, the perfect place for Mr. and Mrs. Nowitski to raise their five boys…well, four now. Bishop glanced at it before putting her hand on Torres' arm, keeping him in the car for a moment longer after he cut the engine. "It's kind of sticking in my mind."
He turned to her, and they locked eyes. "Bishop, you saved her life. That's a good thing. Why's it bugging you? Something feel off after the fact?"
Bishop shook her head and, surprisingly, smiled. It wasn't on the same level of happiness as when she ate her favorite shrimp chips, but it was pretty close. Not even happiness, just—vibrancy. "Not bothering me. More like…" She gestured with her hands, as if plucking the thought straight from her brain. "I'm feeling pretty alive right now. Pushing Hill out of the way to jump into the water, bullets zipping past me in slow motion, heaving Burke out…"
"We get shot at all the time."
"True, but how often can we say we get shot at while underwater?"
Torres shook his head and grabbed the door handle, getting out. "Still wouldn't say getting shot at is cool."
"And I wasn't saying that," Bishop corrected. She pulled her hair free from her scarf and coat's collar and straightened her jacket. Then she jutted her chin to the Nowitskis' front door. "Do you want to do the notification?"
"As if I don't have enough practice under my belt," Torres grumbled.
"…it gets easier."
"No, it doesn't."
"No, it doesn't," she agreed quietly.
A part of him wanted to make a joke, wanted to end their new topic in a light-hearted manner. Maybe tease her for the excitement in her tone—"What, is Goody Two-Shoes Bishop going to be a thrill-seeker now? Take down ninjas with her bare hands or something?"—but all ideas died on his lips. Because it wasn't even excitement Bishop was expressing. It was confidence. It was the same confidence he'd developed while being a deep-cover agent.
And it was the type of confidence that could tip over all too easily into over-confidence. And over-confidence would get an agent killed.
As they walked up the faded, cracked path to the front door, he prepped himself for the notification—"Mr. and Mrs. Nowitski? I'm NCIS Special Agent Torres; this is Special Agent Bishop. May we come in to talk with you? … Thank you. … What is this about? When is the last time you heard from your son, Petty Officer Thomas Nowitski? … Five days ago? … Mr. and Mrs. Nowitski, we're sorry to tell you that we found Thomas' body at the edge of the Potomac late last night…."—but his mind wandered elsewhere, back to his and Bishop's chat about that godforsaken empty jar Kasie had given him for Random Day.
Of course he remembered the Burke case from last week. It had only been six days since they found her and reunited Morgan with Lily and Ben. It had only been six days since Torres had panicked and yelled for Bishop when he, Gibbs, and McGee had arrived on the scene only to find no trace of her.
It had only been six days since Torres had collected some of that lake water in his new empty jar on an impulse, because he needed the reminder.
The others hadn't seen him filling the jar with the water, and, if they had, he might've turned sentimental and said it was a weird memento of a weird case that was a job well done.
But, in truth, Torres hadn't quite figured out the impulse, not until the following night when, at home, alone, an equally weird nightmare woke him.
It'd been five days of Torres trying to brush it off, convincing himself his subconscious had gone overboard. But here he was, delivering a notification to a family, just as someone had come to a version of himself in his dream, delivering a notification…
Mrs. Nowitski was crying now, her husband leading her to a nearby chair to collapse into in the living room, and the pain felt a little too tangible, a little too real this time. Torres winced when they and Bishop weren't looking.
He wished he could laugh off the idea of him having a family. But…what Dream Nick had didn't look so bad.
Two-level house, not even a fifteen-minute drive from the naval base.
A wide yard with one of those gaudy birdbaths sitting out front—which he'd insisted on, of course, because why not?
His sexy little weekend car…parked in the driveway in front of a more sensible family-sized SUV.
A son with his dark hair and winning smile and his mother's dimple-prone chin and insatiable appetite.
Dream Nick's life was pretty well thought out. His sister and brother-in-law were still gone, but his niece lived with him and his son…and his adventure-loving wife.
A wife who didn't come home from work one day.
A wife who was a fellow special agent.
A wife whose skills and brains weren't enough just once—but one time was all it took.
It'd been five days of Torres trying to convince himself that his dream—nope, nightmare—wasn't only overzealous but completely outrageous. Him and Bishop? A family? The two of them? What an absurd idea. That was stage one of coping with a weird dream.
Stage two was making excuses. It had to be completely normal to have the odd dream about being that close to a coworker, to a friend, right? Like—like—like how some people dreamed of having to give a speech and forgetting every word. Or going to work and facing their boss, but it turned out they hadn't gotten dressed that morning and went to work naked. So, yeah, some people just dreamed about marrying their colleague and having a family with them.
There weren't five stages, unfortunately, and Torres had been hung up on the third and final stage for the past two days. The third stage scared him most, however, and his mouth went dry from more than just the realization his and Bishop's interview with the Nowitskis had concluded and he hadn't registered a damn thing.
Stage three…he'd started going along with the premise.
What if that future were a possibility? What if he did capture the bubbliness that was Ellie Bishop? What if she did tame the swagger that was Nick Torres?
What if they did make a life together and either one of them faced this inevitability?
Torres gave a jerky shake of his head as he and Bishop left the house. If only such a shake could rid him of scary thoughts.
"Hey." Bishop waited until he looked at her over the roof of the car. Her brows were knit together. "You okay, Nick?"
He frowned. Scary thoughts…he really was being ridiculous. McGee had told him, in bits and pieces, about Tony DiNozzo over the years, and also about Ziva David, and also about Tony and Ziva. Tony, who'd genuinely been searching for someone to have in his life, who'd gained a family but still lost so much when Ziva died. Tony, who was nothing like Torres—Torres, who played the field and had fun and simply was a damn good agent. Why risk that for the kind of pain Tony had or McGee or Delilah might face one day?
"Earth to Nick~" Bishop prodded. Now her eyebrows were raised.
He forced a smile and ducked into the car. "Sorry, that's a long-distance call," he managed to joke. His chuckle almost sounded genuine, even to him.
She playfully shoved his arm, but she smiled at him. "And that's a call I'd happily pay for."
For once, Nick Torres had no witty retort, and he couldn't find it in him to be annoyed when Bishop laughed, realizing she'd made him speechless.
The kind of pain Tony had…maybe it was worth the risk.
- ^-^ 3
8DDD Well. XD It's been five years since my last NCIS fic (whoops), and I confess I've struggled a lot in the post-Ziva era. I'm not a Bishop fan, but! I've really liked a lot of charries who've come in recent seasons, especially Torres and Reeves. Torres has really had his moments, and I love the boy. :3 And any combo of Bishop, Torres, and Reeves, even as an OT3, does make me smile. So the little moments Torres had in "She" (as well as those in earlier season 16 eps) have just been yanking my heart in all different directions, and Torshop is deffo a new ship I can get behind (altho I confess I think there were some season 15 moments that got me like whoa, *lol*). NCIS is a fandom I do enjoy coming back to from time to time, so here's hoping I'll get some more Torshop ideas in the near future…otherwise I'm gonna hafta get cracking on a large Tiva idea my parents and I were working on. :O
Thanks for reading, and please review! Check out my other NCIS fics if you liked this. (And, for my fans on AO3 and on tumblr, keep an eye peeled for edited, newer versions of my old NCIS fics, coming soon! :D)
-mew-tsubaki =w=