Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. However, 10x01 did air on my birthday, so I can pretend that TPTB gave it to me as a birthday gift. ('Pretend' being the operative word, of course.)
A/N: 10x01 wasn't quite up to the quality of Season Seven's premiere in my opinion – it felt a little rushed – but it was still very good. I loved all of the team bonding moments we got. Your thoughts?
1. Leon Vance
Gibbs can talk all he wants about not letting Dearing win, but that doesn't stop Leon from knowing that this is his fault. If he hadn't driven his car right up to the Yard, if he hadn't played so perfectly into Dearing's hands, the NCIS building would still be standing today. Innocent people would still be alive.
He gets a phone call from a frantic Jackie shortly after the story hits the news, and manages to reassure her that he's alright. Yes, of course he'll come home as soon as he can. But first he's needed here to catch the bastard who touched his people.
"You're needed at home, too," Jackie says fiercely. "The kids need to see their dad. I need you."
But he's the director. And that has to come first.
Still, Jackie's a good woman. Maybe more understanding than he deserves.
"Then go do what you need to do. Catch that bastard, Leon. We'll be waiting."
-–- -–- -–-
2. Donald "Ducky" Mallard
It is rare for Dr. Donald Mallard to feel as useless as he does at the moment. But his age is finally catching up with him, fight it though he may.
Laid low by a heart attack of all things. How terribly ignominious.
He itches to leave this monochromatic, germ-ridden petri dish of a hospital room.
Still, he has rarely been so proud of his protégé. He has no doubt that NCIS' dead are in fine hands with Mr. Palmer.
And until he can get out, at least he has the lovely Breena to keep him company.
"Did you know, my dear, that hospitals were once…"
-–- -–- -–-
3. James Palmer
You go, without me. You have to. […] They need you more.
Dr. Mallard's words keep circling through Jimmy's head as he identifies body after body.
It's always harder when it's one of our own, Mr. Palmer. But that is when our work is most important. We owe it to them.
So he does autopsy after autopsy, honoring their fallen. (Trying not to worry too much about Dr. Mallard. Trying not to worry too much about Gibbs' team. Trying not to think too much about all of the lives cut short. Trying not to think too much about all of the people that he recognizes on this slab or the people that he knows are left behind mourning them or–)
At the same time, though, he owes it to the dead to remember them. So he does.
This is Agent Nina Vasquez. She always smiled and said hi when they ran into each other in the elevator. She has – had – two kids, ages four and eight, and a wife. She was on her way out of the building (probably to grab a late lunch) when the bomb went off. She died almost instantaneously in the blast.
This is William McGell, Assistant Director of Human Resources. Jimmy recognizes the tattoo on his forearm – Will had been showing it off to everyone just last week – which is lucky, since the man's face is shredded beyond recognition. In his file, Will has – had – a brother and two parents down as his emergency contacts. He was down in the Armory when the bomb went off, and was fatally punctured by flying broken glass; when death came, it was probably a relief.
This is Probationary Agent Jennifer Woo. She just started working at NCIS last month. Jimmy only saw her around once or twice, but she always seemed nice enough. According to her file, her next of kin is one David Thomas, her fiancé. Like Dr. Mallard, she suffered a heart attack shortly after the bomb went off. Unlike Dr. Mallard, she wasn't lucky enough to survive it.
He blinks his eyes furiously and continues working.
The day has only just begun.
-–- -–- -–-
4. Timothy McGee
Tim winces as he types quickly on the computer.
Nothing a Band-Aid wouldn't fix, he'd told Gibbs earlier, but that wasn't strictly true. He'd left the hospital against the doctor's strong recommendations and refused any extra-strength pain meds.
They need him at NCIS, and he won't be of much use if he's drugged up to the gills.
The phone rings.
"McGee," he says, picking it up.
"Timothy, sweetheart," his grandmother's familiar voice says, "how are you holding up?"
"I'm fine, Penny," he tells her patiently, trying not to let pain come through in his voice.
Penny must hear something, though, because she says – rather sharply – "No you aren't. Don't you think I don't know when you're lying, Timothy McGee! You may be a Special Agent, but I know all your tells. Maybe I should come back. It's only a cruise, after all, and frankly, none of the men on the boat are all that attractive anyway. I can –"
"Penny, you don't have to come home early," Tim cuts in. "I know it's just a cruise, but you're in Europe."
"Are you sure?" Penny asks.
"Look, I'm fine," Tim says.
"Are you going to call your father?" Penny asks, and he can almost see her raise an eyebrow.
"No, I'm not gonna call Dad," Tim sighs.
"Oh? Why not?"
"Because there's no reason to," he says, barely reigning in his exasperation.
He takes a deep breath and tries not to wince at the pain that this causes his ribs.
Penny knows perfectly well why he doesn't want to call his father. She knows the lay of that land. She's just being her usual interfering self.
He covers the phone's speaker for a second, and asks the nearby Jimmy – half-rhetorically – "Why did I tell my grandmother about the explosion?"
"Eh, she's worried. It's normal," Jimmy says.
"Yeah, nothing's normal about my grandmother," Tim mutters dryly before returning to his phone conversation.
Penny and Jimmy both mean well, but they don't really get it.
The Admiral doesn't need to hear from him. It isn't as though Penny or Sarah won't fill him in, after all. Besides, things are just starting to get back to normal at work. The last thing he needs is the added stress of dealing with his dad right now.
Shrugging thoughts of his father away, he continues with his typing.
There's work to be done, and that's all that matters right now.
-–- -–- -–-
5. Anthony DiNozzo, Junior
How messed up is it that Ziva's dad – the guy who sent his daughter on a suicide mission and left her to die in a godforsaken desert – called to check up on her, but his dad hasn't called him?
The old man probably hasn't heard about it yet, that's all. Anthony DiNozzo Senior isn't one for watching the news. He gets the newspaper every morning, though; seems to think it's classier.
Still, the silence stings. (Even though Tony knew better than to expect anything. Which doesn't stop that familiar twinge, of course. (It never has.))
Ziva's dad called her and he's glad for her. Really.
And Tim's grandmother and sister called him. Which is nice. Tim refuses to call "The Admiral," though. Something to think about later, when he has the energy to spare.
Gibbs talked to his dad.
Jimmy has Breena when he goes home at night.
Only he, Abby, and Ducky are without external anchors, it seems.
Except for the fact that Abby is Gibbs' favorite and Ducky is Gibbs' equal. Gibbs will always make time for them.
What does Tony have?
An empty apartment and an empty bed.
He looks at Gibbs across the bullpen and suddenly he sees his future.
A man whose work is his life. A man who is too proud, too afraid, to make a simple phone call to a certain woman. A man who is alone despite being surrounded by people.
He doesn't want that.
Only thing worse than being scared is being scared alone, Jimmy had said.
He thinks, fleetingly, of the warmth of Ziva's hand against his and of her understanding eyes. Of a shared glance.
He doesn't want to be alone.
He glances over at Ziva, who is sitting at her desk across from him. Ziva looks up, catches his gaze, and gives him a small, questioning smile before returning to her work.
He doesn't want to be alone anymore.
Change, Ziva once said, requires action. He absently pats the bucket list hidden in his jacket pocket.
If he doesn't want to be alone, he needs to do something about it. And soon.
Looking covertly at Ziva once more, he swears to himself that he won't end up alone; he'll make sure of it.
-–- -–- -–-
6. Ziva David
It has been… a long day. Or is it days? She cannot keep things straight at the moment. Tony was right on the dollar when he said that they wouldn't leave HQ for a while.
That's the 'stay up all night, no sleep, take one for the team, I've got a plan' look.
Ziva understands – perhaps better than anyone – the importance of sacrifice. And she is willing to sacrifice a great deal to catch the man who has harmed her new family.
And yet…
She lets out a sigh, rolls her stiff neck and glances at the clock impatiently.
It is now four in the afternoon. They still have not heard from Gibbs.
When he'd first left, she had paced the floor of the building like a caged beast. After doing that for twenty minutes or so, she'd finally settled down at her desk to attempt more work. It has not been working well.
"He is being a stubborn, selfish fool!" she exclaims at last, slamming her stapler down on the desk to emphasize her feelings.
Tim's head jerks up in surprise at her outburst, but Tony – Tony has been staring steadily at her on and off ever since Gibbs announced that he was going after Dearing. He seems to have been expecting something like this.
"Did he not stop to think about us?" she continues, voice rising to a near-hysteric pitch. She is aware that she is behaving poorly, yet cannot seem to stop it. America has definitely weakened her in some respects. "But no, the Great Leroy Jethro Gibbs listens to no one. And what was Vance thinking, letting him go in without any backup?!"
The two men remain frozen, listening to her rant.
She feels tears coming to her eyes as she adds more quietly, "It sounded as though… as though he was saying goodbye to us, yes?"
Tim shrugs awkwardly, and ventures, "He's come out of worse, right?"
"Yes, of course," Ziva murmurs. "I am being foolish. He will be fine."
Tony frowns slightly and tells her, "Hey, it's not foolish. He's… he's Gibbs. I'd be worried if you weren't worrying. But, y'know… he's Gibbs. He'll make it."
Ziva nods, trying hard not to picture Gibbs' dead body. Every time she blinks, however, she sees sparks beneath her eyelids from sheer exhaustion, and this starts the process all over again. Dearing is smart. He has already killed several teams sent to capture him; what chance does one man – however incredible – stand against him and his explosives?
"OK," Tony says, clapping his hands. "I have an idea. McGee, man the phones for a few minutes, will ya? Ziva and I will go raid the remaining vending machines for food to bring back."
"Will do," Tim says. "Get me a couple of Nutter Butters if you see any."
Tony nods.
Ziva gets to her feet and follows Tony out into the hallway.
In the alcove where the vending machines once stood, there is chaos. The machines lie face-forward on the floor, broken glass scattered about.
"We're gonna have to work as a team to extract the food," Tony says after gazing at the mess for a long few seconds.
It is foolish – these are only machines – yet Ziva acutely feels the loss of their upright presence. And if she misses the vending machines, how much more will she will miss Gibbs' presence if he –
"Turn it over on the count of three?" she asks, shoving the dangerous thoughts from her head.
He nods and bends into position to shift the vending machine over to its side.
"One, two…"
"Three!"
Together, they carefully turn the vending machine over so that they can pull out snacks.
"We make a good team, yes?" she says, as she loads her arms with candy and crackers.
"The best," he says simply, pausing his scavenging to fix his eyes on hers.
There is a warmth to his gaze that half reassures, half terrifies her.
Then his phone rings.
Promptly dropping the snack food on the ground, Tony grabs his phone, flips it open, and barks, "DiNozzo."
After a few seconds, his shoulders droop in relief.
"Got it, Boss," he says.
"He is OK?" Ziva hisses urgently.
Tony nods and Ziva relaxes minutely.
Returning to his conversation with their redoubtable leader, Tony adds, "And, uh, for the record? Ziva's glad you're alright. Uh, we all are."
Pause.
"Yeah."
He shuts the phone and meets her eyes again.
"What happened?" Ziva asks.
"Gibbs got Dearing; stabbed him with a knife. The bastard won't hurt anyone ever again," Tony says. "As for Gibbs… not a scratch on him, or at least so he says."
Ziva lets out a breath of relief and gives him a watery smile.
He smiles back and suddenly she aches to reach out to him.
But it is too much for the moment, so she says, "We should go tell Tim. He will be wondering."
Tony nods in agreement and starts walking back towards the bullpen.
"Do not forget his Nutter Butters!" Ziva calls, grabbing them from the ground and hurrying after him.
Things are not alright yet. But they will be.
-–- -–- -–-
7. Abigail Scuito
Abby is fine. She's fine. Really.
The team is alive and Bert is OK.
Harper Dearing is finally dead.
So is Mass Spec, though. The building is half-rubble and people are dead. And her lab is a mess.
Nowhere feels safe any more. Harper Dearing invaded her sanctuary, her home. He hurt her family.
But he's dead now. Dead. Gibbs got rid of him.
So she's fine.
(She just wishes her subconscious mind would listen to her.)
Abby, if anyone can find the good, it is you. I have no doubt.
She has to be fine. She has to.
If she doesn't act cheerful, who will help keep the team's spirits up? No one, that's who.
So she's fine.
Really.
And where the hell is her Caff-Pow, anyway?
Right, the Caff-Pow machine broke when the bomb went off.
She grits her teeth into a rather fixed smile.
She's fine.
-–- -–- -–-
8. Leroy Jethro Gibbs
It has been several months since Gibbs finished off Harper Dearing, but things have not fully returned to normal at the Navy Yard.
But maybe that isn't entirely a bad thing.
As he glances at his team – his family – interacting in the warm sunlight, a small smile crosses his face.
Abby hugs Ziva and then strolls off with a chatting Jimmy Palmer and Tim. Ziva and Tony stand – perhaps a bit too close to one another – talking by the coffee cart. Vance strides briskly along the path talking into his cell phone.
Life goes on.
He sees Ducky sitting on a bench a short ways away. Ducky gestures to him, and Gibbs starts walking in his direction.
They've all been closer ever since the bombing; they take less for granted.
Gibbs glances briefly back at the memorial.
A day of loss, it says. A day of sorrow. A day to remember and vow this will never happen again.
Sounds about right to him.
But today is for the living, not for the dead.
So he walks forward and lives.