I'm Thinking About You Now, a ncis fanfic

TITLE: I'm Thinking About You Now
CLASSIFICATION: Humor

RATING: PG
CHALLENGE Amnesty 2007 – Self-Insertion
SPOILERS: Lost & Found from Season 5
DISCLAIMER: Me owning NCIS is about as likely as my grandmother having a torrid affair with Ducky.

SUMMARY: A post-ep added scene for Lost & Found for NFA's Self-Insertion Challenge. The title is from Split Decision, and was too perfect not to use.

A/N: The name Lucy is one of two nicknames my mom used to call me as a kid (the other being Molly). Neither of them have anything to do with my name; they were about my favorite characters in two series of books I was reading at the time.

"Oh, come on! Give me a break!"

Okay, DiNozzo. You think you can look any more like an idiot? You're sitting in your apartment, alone at a quarter of three in the morning when you have to be at work at 7:00 and you're yelling at the computer. Well done. Maybe you really did get brain damage from all the boss' headslaps.

Of course, what the frig else was I supposed to do exactly? Go back to bed and try and sleep for the few hours I can? Yeah, right. Like that worked at 12;00 when I tried it. I spent the entire time lying there, unable to quit thinking about that one freaking word that screwed my Box Office Trivia score beyond all recognition.

So instead I'd gone back to my computer to try again. And again. And again. And then for variety...well, I lost count after that. The first time I got nailed at Question 7 about the star of some horror flick named Michael Weatherly. Who? Yeah, that's what I said. Never heard of the guy or the movie. And I'm sorry, but when someone who watches as many horror flicks as I do can't even answer the question, it's got no business making it onto a quiz like this.

The next time I made it to Question 3, but I didn't feel quite as bad about missing that. I mean, come on, Steel Magnolias? I love Julia Roberts, but we're talking about Depressing Chickflicks 101 here. The kind your girlfriend wakes up crying about during the middle of the night. Any self-respecting male has self-induced dissassociative amnesia after seeing it — it's like the only way to survive.

And Number 11 on the quiz after that? Something about A Midsummer Night's Dream. As in Shakespeare. As in the one with guys walking around in tights, wings, and donkey's heads. If I'd have answered that question correctly I'd have shot myself then and there.

But the one after that — oh, now that burned. Last question and it was about The Lord of the Rings. I love those movies. Watched 'em a million times. Bought all three DVDs, both theatrical and extended editions. Even went to the marathon screening the night Return of the King premiered. And yes, I can spell all of the names. There was no question in the world they could ask me about those movies that I wouldn't be able to answer.

Until they asked for the first thing Arwen says to Frodo...in Elvish.

Elvish? Hello, we're talking the movies here, not the books! There's subtitles on that movie for a reason!

I don't remember what went wrong on the other rounds, nor do I care. All I can think is that I can barely see my computer screen and if I'd only checked my spelling the first time this wouldn't have happened. If I'd only taken a little more time...

Oh, does that bring back memories.

It was the end of September, freshman year of high school, and we'd just been given our first unit tests back in math. I'd pulled a 69, no surprise there. Math was never my best subject. What was a shock was that Lucy, the girl who sat across the aisle from me, looked like she was meditating on self-induced mental butt-kicking.

I'd heard a few things about Lucy from asking around. Truth be told, I'd been planning on asking her to the Thanksgiving dance. According to my friends, she was quiet, rarely in trouble, spent a lot of time reading, stunk at Physed — especially Track & Field — and was considered pretty good at math. For her to have the look on her face she did, she'd had to have had a really crappy grade. Which meant that this was probably a good time to offer some sympathy and maybe cheer her up with an invite to the dance.

I caught up with her on the way out of class and offered my best understanding grin. "Well, he sure didn't welcome us back with an easy exam, did he?" She smiled and shrugged, but didn't answer. "What did you in?"

"Remember that question from the first week's assignment that he told us would be on the exam?"

Did I ever. It was the only reason I'd managed to get it right. But I winced anyway. "You too, huh?"

She shook her head, looking madder than I'd ever seen her. "I was going to spend some time working on it last night, but my other assignments took longer than I thought and besides, I figured I knew the rest of the material well enough that it wouldn't really matter if I got that one wrong. I'd still manage a pretty good grade. Reasonable, right?"

Oh, man. Now I really did feel sorry for her. How do you explain something like that to your parents when they're signing your test paper? I just nodded and sighed. "Too reasonable. I did the same thing." I reached out and put my arm around her shoulder. "Think they'll give us cells next to each other on Death Row?"

Lucy sort of giggled at that, but her face quickly went back to frustration. "It was the only question I got wrong!"

I dropped my arm and stood still in the center of the hall, only to get shoved forward by about three juniors who couldn't stop in time. I scrambled out of the way, muttering apologies, before just staring at Lucy, having no idea what to say.

"I can't believe it. It would have been my first perfect mark in math since sixth grade and I blew it! And I basically blew it on purpose." She shook her head again. "I should be locked in a lunatic asylum."

I had to agree with that, but not for the reason she was thinking. I backed away, muttering something about being late for French, before bolting down the hall. No freaking way was I asking this whackjob out anywhere.

Mad at herself for getting one question wrong. Oh yeah, no doubt about it, this girl was definitely unstable.

"I get it now, Lucy." I just about snarled the words as I hit the "Play again" button for what felt like the fortieth time. "Oh, do I get it now."

A/N: By the way, that mistake with the test really did happen, but I didn't tell anyone, classmates or otherwise, until years later, when my mom and I were going over perfectionist tendencies on a personality quiz.