Disclaimer: I do not own anything from NCIS, be it the television show or the actual federal agency. One can wish for character plushies, though...
Author's Note: This is, admittedly, not my first attempt to write a story, actually finish it, and continue on with sequels. But I hope that this one will be the one that I do it with. The mere process of thinking it up has been fun.
And I do hope all my readers are understanding with the fact that this is a "Post as I get it done" fic since I am in the process of moving. If I suddenly go a very long period without posting, it's because I've finally moved and have yet to reestablish an internet connect via computer.
With that, read and enjoy!
Timothy slouched slightly in his seat with a heavy sigh. A quick glance around the ballroom told him that, apparently, everyone else was enthralled by the speaker. It was moments like this that make him happy that he didn't attend every convention Lyndi threw his way.
"Bored?" He jumped, snapping his head to the right to look across the round table he sat at. A young woman with a curious face sat there. He hadn't hear her sit down.
"I'm starting to be. This isn't the first time I've heard Fisherman's speech. He hasn't updated it at all." Tim let out a small laugh as he straightened himself properly in his seat. "You would think he'd take new and upcoming authors into consideration each year he's asked to attend."
"Alex Fisherman wouldn't know a true writer if one bit him in the ass." The woman whispered back, looking up at the stage as she spoke. This pulled another chuckle from Tim. He turned his chair so he could face her straight on, finding her much more entertaining than the older man at the microphone.
"I don't believe I've seen you here before." Tim's eyes took in as much of her as they could, from her fiery red hair to the sparkles of her strapless black dress. Freckles sprinkled her face and shoulders but something told Tim they wouldn't be anywhere else on her body. At first glance her eyes appeared to be blue, but lingering on them a few seconds made Tim realize that they were a bold gray. The only jewelry he saw was the diamond pendant necklace delicately gracing her neck. A smirk on her small mouth told Tim she felt his scrutiny despite not looking at him. "Are you new to the convention circuit?"
"In a way." The woman returned her gaze to Tim, caressing her drink glass lightly. "I'm one of those new authors you mentioned."
"Really? Where did you stake your claim? Mystery? Science fiction? Romance?" Tim's rapid questions made the woman laugh. It was a throaty sound that he hadn't expected from a female as slender as her.
"Psychological thriller. What's your day job? A lawyer? Feels like I'm suddenly in an interrogation." Tim had enough decency to go slightly pink in the face.
"Law enforcement. Sorry. The questions are a hard habit to break once you start." The woman smiled widely, oddly in understanding.
"That's ok. I'm a forensic psychologist. I know what it's like." She reached her hand across the table to offer it to him. "I'm... Lynn Price."
Tim recognized her name. He had read her book two months previous when the team was taken off rotation because Ziva had to retake driving lessons. He had trouble putting the book down, earning it a place next to his beloved typewriter instead of on his shelf. Tim was quick to accept her hand and shake it.
"Thom E. Gemcity. I've read your book. Couldn't put it down. I think my boss even had to yell at me once or twice to do so." Tim smiled, enjoying the turnabout and making her blush instead. He could suddenly see why Gibbs was so attracted to red heads.
"Th...thank you. I've read your book as well. My old boss recommended it when he retired." She took a sip of her drink. "He has good taste in novels."
A sudden explosion of clapping made them both jump. Fisherman finished his speech without either of them noticing. Clearing her throat, Lynn took another sip.
"I see you're just as good as I am at picking nom de plumes. Or did your publisher pick yours?"
"I picked it. Though, I admit I've had it a while." Tim looked around when people started to get up and mingle. A break must have been called. "How are you liking the convention so far?"
"It's significantly less enjoyable when you aren't old enough to partake in the open bar. People tend to think you don't belong." A sour look appeared on her face as Tim looked at her in shock. He had guessed she was young but not that young. Her outfit made her look like she was in her mid-20s.
"How..."
"I'm 18." Lynn quickly interrupted before Tim could finish his question. "19 in a few months."
Tim looked her up and down again, still not seeing such a young age in her. Lynn shifted uncomfortably under his eyesight, looking down in a sudden drop of confidence. "Look, I understand if you feel odd with interacting with someone as young as me. As a psychologist, I know. People..."
"I'm fine with it." Tim quickly blurted out before Lynn could get on a roll. "You wouldn't be here if you were some immature little twit."
Lynn opened her mouth to say something but shut it quickly when a group of what appeared to be college students walked too close to the table. In the semi-formal setting of the convention, their college student sense of fashion made them stick out like a sore thumb. Lynn sighed in irritation when they stopped walking to just stand and chat, their excited conversation of being allowed to attend the convention to cover it for their school paper filling the air around Tim and Lynn. Tim frowned at them when it became clear that Lynn wasn't going to speak with possible eavesdroppers so close by. Given their sudden change in topic discussion, he guessed she had been burned quite a few times at events like this because of her age.
"Why don't we head to the eatery here in the conference center? The next presentation is more for aspiring writers, not published authors. I think sitting through 90 minutes of review would make even Fisherman sound interesting." As soon as the suggestion completely left Tim's mouth, Lynn was standing up. A torn expression on her face showed she was having second thoughts, debating whether to go ahead with Tim's idea or to run for it. Tim was saddened by the fact that it took one simple question from him to turn the mischievous commenter who greeted him randomly into a skittish rabbit. Tim could already tell Lynn was by far one of the most intriguing people he's met at a convention. "Don't worry. It's not like I'm the reincarnation of Jack the Ripper or something."
"God, I hope not." Relaxing slightly at his attempt to joke, Lynn pushed her chair in and walked around the table to join Tim as he stood up himself. He couldn't prevent an amused snort when she stopped next to him. "What?"
"Nothing." He looked down at her with amusement clear on his face. Even in her high heels, Lynn was still at least half a foot shorter than he was. She must have realized what he was thinking about because her eyes thinned out.
"Well, Mr. Law Enforcement, let's go. This was your idea." Raising an eyebrow at the nickname, Tim made a show of waving for her to go first, prompting an eye roll. He followed her closely so as to not lose her in the crowd, opening the door for her and quietly leading her in the direction of the eatery.
