Disclaimer : If you recognize it, I don't own it. All characters remain intellectual property of CBS and their creators.
Title : Culper
Summary : During a routine investigation, the team uncovers a piece of evidence that links their murder to a Revolutionary War mystery. What happens when the past collides with the present? Set mid-season 4. Teamfic. Casefile. No spoilers, no ships. Rated T for language and violence.
Author's Note : Please be aware this story contains some language and minor violence. I've tried to keep that and the descriptions to be no worse than what we see in the show. I still rate it to be a T/PG-13.
This story is almost complete. It's looking to be around 25 or so chapters, plus an epilogue. Most of it is written and edited. I'm just lacking the motivation to finish it, so I hope that posting will force me to get it done. Updates will be sporadic until after the holidays. Early next year, it'll probably go back to Tuesday/Friday updates.
I have taken liberties with this story, so please bear with me. Some of the history is factual and a bit I have fabricated to fit the story. There's been a fair bit of research that's gone into this story for both locations and history. If anything is factual inaccurate or against protocol (especially military stuff), PM me and I will make any appropriate changes.
Even though this story ended up slightly Tony-centric with McGee playing a strong secondary character, it is still a team fic. I've tried my best to portray Tony as the competent investigator that we haven't seen for several seasons.
Any feedback is always appreciated, please just keep it constructive.
Well, that's enough out of me. Let's get on with it.
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Tuesday, November 14, 2006 - 1:05pm - Rock Creek Park, Washington, DC -
Grinning to herself, Annie Dobson could barely contain her excitement. Earlier in the morning, she'd placed a call to her employer's human resources department. After a well-rehearsed fake cough and froggy voice, the woman on the other line was quickly convinced that Annie was indeed ill. She'd rationalized that she needed the day off for her mental health, more so than her physical. The clientele at the bank had been draining her lately.
Thus far, her "mental health" day had been absolute perfection. After a lazy morning at Starbucks, she had the afternoon free to walk her husky through Rock Creek Park's trails. At a time when she'd normally be starting her afternoon shift, she strolled down a thickly forested path just off Beach Road. Pausing momentarily, she let her pet sniff a spot in the dead leaves. As she pulled on the leash to get the dog moving, she watched the bright afternoon sunlight filter through the leafless branches of the trees. It was amazing how much fuller the sun was on a fall afternoon than in the evening after work.
When a cold wind blasted through her light jacket, she closed her eyes and shivered. Choosing that moment for an opportunity at freedom, her husky bolted and Annie lost her hold on the leash.
"Tyson! Get back here!" Watching the furry tail disappear, she sprinted into the forest after him. "Tyson!"
Moving through the trees, she glanced around nervously. Somewhere nearby, the dog emitted a low growl and fear tightened her throat. "Tyson?"
Suddenly, a grey shape bounded at her and she screamed. When her dog rubbed against her leg, she let out a relieved laugh and grabbed the leash. It wasn't until she ran her hand over his head that she noticed the black object in Tyson's mouth.
"What do you have there, Ty? Let it go." When Annie pulled at the object, the dog released the black men's dress shoe. While she tried to figure out why her dog had a shoe, Tyson pulled at the leash again and bounded back into the woods. As she broke into a run after him, an ominous feeling spread through her. When Annie caught up to her dog, he was in a small clearing, sniffing a large, brown mass on the ground.
Transfixed, she approached the object. The lump looked almost human. Wait, it was human..
For several seconds, she stared slack-jawed at the young man wearing the khaki uniform. Face peaceful and tiled towards the sky, he lay on his back with his legs twisted underneath his body. He looked almost peaceful. Wondering why the young man chose to nap here, she stepped closer to study the his ashen face.
When she noticed the bullet hole in his forehead, she started screaming.
She was still screaming minutes later when Metro police arrived.
-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-
1:42pm - Bullpen - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC -
"Cold cases," Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo grumbled, clicking something on his computer. "So many cold cases."
Since crime around the Navy had been painfully slow lately, the team was scheduled a few precious "off" weeks. Under normal circumstances, DiNozzo would be ecstatic for the time to relax and recharge. The team's typical overnight and weekend shifts took their toll on his morale and anemic social life. Though after two weeks with no new case, he had found something even more detrimental to the team's drive than long hours. Cold cases.
After the novelty of leaving early enough for a proper dinner wore off, the cold cases began to wear down everyone on the team. With his days filled with mind-numbing paper trails and reconstructing unsolved murders, DiNozzo had stopped enjoying his work for the first time in his career.
With a pained sigh, Tony turned his attention back to his computer. He was supposed to be reviewing a ten-year old case involving a young ensign.
"What are you complaining about, DiNozzo? It's not like you're even working." An annoyed Special Agent Timothy McGee glared at him from the opposite corner of the bullpen. On the surface of the junior agent's desk, an open file's contents were strewn haphazardly. As the younger man put his pen on his desk, several sheets of paper fell to the floor and he made a face.
Tension always seemed to run high between the team whenever cold cases were involved. The age of most cases left a dearth of technological and computer evidence which rendered McGee nearly useless. Since Ziva was a woman of action, files and paperwork were slightly outside of her lethal Mossad training. Cold cases always left DiNozzo bored and craving more. After years of being filed away, leads dried up and witnesses vanished. There was no thrill left in catching a murderer years after the act.
As for Gibbs, well, he wasn't allowed to be bothered. Whenever he read about a previous agent's ineptitude, it left him more pissed than usual. To save themselves, the team always prevented him from reaching the file box with inane missions to nowhere. For the past two weeks, he'd divided his time between Abby's lab, the director's office or calibrating the cameras in MTAC. At the moment, he was discussing DiNozzo's denied food expense reports with the director.
"Tony, the sooner we get through these, the sooner we can do something else," complained McGee, voice dangerously bordering on a whine. When he motioned to the open file on his desk, another page fell to the floor.
Rolling his eyes, Tony shook his head at the younger man. "Like what? Organize the evidence garage again?" Shuddering, he tried not to remember the last time they organized the garage. A small spat with Ziva over the correct way to log evidence had led to the male agents being locked in the evidence locker for several hours. They hadn't been released until McGee managed to rig a few pieces of evidence into an antenna so they could contact security.
"Well, something more exciting than that." Popping up from his desk as he retrieved the fallen papers, the junior agent shot DiNozzo a knowing smile. "But you should be working."
"I am working!" Tony exclaimed, gesturing to the case file on his desk.
"You are not! You're playing that movie trivia game you made me install last week," McGee stated, gesturing towards Tony's monitor. As more papers fluttered to the floor, he sighed and disappeared under his desk.
"I am working. As senior field agent, I'm monitoring the efforts of my underlings." Across the bullpen, Mossad Liaison Ziva David glared at him lethally. Picking up her pen, she managed to make the innocuous object appear menacing. DiNozzo laughed nervously and loosened his tie. "Underling. I'm monitoring my underling. That means you, McGoo. Any progress in the case that you're reviewing?"
Pressing his lips together, McGee shook his head. "There's a reason it's cold. Though if you don't get back to yours, I'm telling Gibbs about the game."
"You wouldn't, would you?" When he met his junior agent's eyes, Tony knew the younger man meant business. Sighing, he turned his attention to the open file. Unable to focus, his eyes glanced first at a now occupied McGee, then to his computer. The question : Who said 'I am big! It's just the pictures that got small?' sat in front of him in huge red letters.
Damn, he should know the answer!
While he racked his brain for the source of the quote, he flipped through his file. The case involved a young ensign, home on leave for a few weeks. On the day of his murder, the victim was at his home. Witness statements revealed only his wife knew he was there. Conveniently, the wife had been visiting her sister in Virgina while her husband bled to death. Following a hunch, he ran a quick background search on the wife. Aha, only child. Figures the wife did it.
Writing a note on a Post-It, he slid the file on top of the other three that comprised his 'solved pile.' Across from him, Ziva exhaled loudly. DiNozzo's eyes met McGee's wide ones. Any emotion from the regularly reserved assassin was surprising.
Slamming her case file closed, Ziva growled. "What is the point of all this pencil pounding?"
DiNozzo shrugged, unsure what English reference she attempted. Apparently catching onto her misused euphemisms quicker than Tony, McGee smiled tightly. "It's paper pushing, Ziva. We're trying to solve old cases that teams before us weren't able to. Sometimes, fresh eyes and a little technology can close an investigation."
"I know, McGee," she stated, sounding strained. "But some cases do not get solved due to severe mistakes. This one," she pointed to her file, "the agent left the DNA evidence in a car in July."
"Yeah," Tony said, looking back to his game. "That guy probably got fired."
When she let out a resigned sigh, Tony figured she was speaking for the three of them. Reaching into the box behind his desk, DiNozzo fished out yet another case file. As he plopped the manila folder on his desk, he laughed quietly to himself. He never thought he'd see a day where he was looking forward to a murder.
Without warning, the hairs on the back of Tony's neck rose and the smell of burnt coffee assaulted his nostrils.
"Find something funny in that file, DiNozzo?" Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs growled, his head appearing above the partition by Tony's desk.
"Not at all, boss." Knowing it was too late, DiNozzo minimized the game screen anyway.
"Grab your gear. We've got a dead Petty Officer in Rock Creek Park." Heading to his desk, Gibbs pulled out his weapon and badge. As Gibbs started to march towards the elevator, the rest of his team began spring to life.
Oh thank G-d.
To DiNozzo's surprise, he watched McGee rise from his desk, face thoughtful. "Boss, isn't this one of our 'off' weeks? I thought Barrows' and Stetson's teams were active."
At that moment, everyone in the bullpen froze and DiNozzo thought he even saw a passing agent pause. A look of surprise at his own stupidity passed over McGee's face and he closed his eyes, bracing himself for what he knew was coming. Not wanting to watch the scene unfold, DiNozzo busied himself by digging through his backpack. Adios, Probie.
"Stetson's team is in Norfolk investigating a drug ring involving Navy personnel and Barrows' team is in West Virginia, following up a lead on their murder," Gibbs growled, face inches from McGee's. Eyes still closed, the junior agent screwed his face as the team leader landed a heavy headslap on the back of his head. Unconsciously, DiNozzo rubbed the back of his own.
"We're never off, McGee."