Chapter 1
It was a quiet day at NCIS and Special Agent Gibbs had just wrapped up a fairly simple theft case with his team. As he worked, he listened with one ear to his team, who were chatting with Dr. Jimmy Palmer, their resident Medical Examiner.
"So this guy felt underappreciated and overlooked, and that made him decide to steal confidential files from his supervisor?" Jimmy asked, leaning against Special Agent Eleanor Bishop's desk wall.
"E-yup," Bishop said. "Pretty stupid stuff, like supply lists from various companies that would have given a rival company a leg up in bidding, private emails that would have been a bit embarrassing, stuff like that, nothing really serious, just really stupid stuff that could be a bit embarrassing, especially some of the emails between Commander Everson and her husband."
"Lovey-dovey?" Palmer guessed.
"Sexually graphic, which would have ruined her straight-laced image," Special Agent Timothy McGee said.
"Bet she fixed that problem," Palmer guessed.
"She won't be using her work email for that kind of stuff again, I'll tell you that much. Either way, Ensign Cogsworth is facing some serious jail time, because JAG thinks it could be considered blackmail as well as theft," McGee said.
Gibbs' cell phone rang. He glanced at it; it was a number he didn't recognize.
"Gibbs," he said, answering the phone.
"Gibbs, it's Mac," a female voice said, sounding on the verge of panic.
"Who?" Gibbs asked, confused, as he tried to place the name and the voice.
"Mackenzington. Did you ever nail that suspect who hit your Marine?"
A memory came to mind, one of a woman with dark hair and a quick smile. He chuckled. "Yeah, yeah we did, thanks to you."
"Good. Well, you remember that favour you said you owed me?"
"I do."
"I'm calling it in," she said. "I do homecare work now, and one of my clients is a retired four-star admiral, and I just found him at the bottom of a flight of stairs with a broken neck," Mac said, her voice hitching.
Gibbs eyes went wide. "Accident?" he asked.
"Oh, I very much doubt it."
"Why?"
"Because I'm his nurse and I know he hasn't been able to climb those damn stairs for about a year, that's why," Mac shot back, starting to sob. "He can't even lift his foot past the first step, never mind high enough to break his neck!"
Gibbs' eyes went wide. "Stay there. I'm on my way," he said, grabbing his gun, badge, and coat.
As he tore out of the building, Special Agent Nicholas Torres stared at his friends in confusion. "What just happened?"
"I don't know, but you wanna bet we're going to get a call in a bit, telling us to gear up?" Bishop asked.
"I'll check the van," Torres said, referring to the MCRT van that was used to help process crime scenes.
"And I'll get Autopsy ready," Palmer said easily.
As Gibbs tore through NCIS on the way to the motor pool, his memories went back.
2006, Bethesda Naval Hospital
Special Agent Jethro Gibbs watched the tv from his hospital bed, trying to catch up on fifteen years worth of world events. He didn't want to admit it, but his head was swimming. So much had changed. It couldn't have been fifteen years. Really?
There was a knock at his door and he looked up, expecting to see his nurse, but it was a young woman in a grey uniform he didn't recognize. Outside was a black and yellow cart. She had dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, fair skin, and brown eyes that matched the smile on her face.
"Good morning, sir. I'm the housekeeper for the unit today. Would it be okay if I came in and tidied up a bit?" she asked. "I won't take long."
Gibbs grunted. "You don't need my permission," he said.
She smiled wider. "True, but it's nice to be asked, especially when it's someone you don't recognize."
Gibbs conceded she had a point. He watched as she went to her cart and snapped on a pair of gloves then grabbed a few cleaning supplies. She quickly emptied out the garbage bins and cleaned the bathroom. Then she started wiping down around his area.
"That seems like an awful lot of work for a room that's usually pretty clean," he said.
"True, but this is nothing. The areas I'm cleaning are what's known as high-touch areas, areas that are commonly touched and have a higher risk of transmitting a possible contagious infection, which is the last thing we need," the housekeeper said. "Besides, if you think this is bad, you should see what has to be done with an isolation discharge. PPE, bleach wipes, everywhere, everything. This takes me ten minutes. An isolation discharge can take up to an hour."
Gibbs cringed. "You been doing it long?"
"About three years now."
"Must be fun."
"It can get pretty boring sometimes, especially if I do the same unit for several days in a row. I like doing the ER the best."
"Yeah? Why's that?"
"Because I never quite know what's going to happen, and there's always something new to learn. Thanks to my shifts in the ER, I can strip an IV pole, empty out a used catheter bag, and I don't even cringe at the sight of a bloody floor anymore."
"That bad, huh?"
"Amazing how much of a mess nurses and doctors can make when they're trying to save some guy who forgot to put his seatbelt on and went headfirst through the windshield," she said sourly.
Gibbs laughed. "Yeah, that would be a bit of a mess."
"I'm sure you've seen your fair share," she said.
"A bit yeah," he admitted. "Probably look like one too."
She came closer, studying him, then shook her head. "I've seen worse, trust me. One time I was in the ER, I had this one guy, his face was an absolute mess because he and his buddy had gotten into a fight and used broken beer bottles instead of their fists. According to one of my favourite nurses, when the paramedics brought him in, he was drunk and still fighting. Thirty-six stitches and that was only after they knocked him out. Seems his buddy wasn't much better; forty-two stitches, three guards, and two line-backer porters. Fun times." Gibbs couldn't help but cringe. "Anyway, onward and upward. Is there anything you need?"
Gibbs shook his head. "Thank you."
She smiled. "No problem. Go easy on yourself, and if there's anything else you need, like towels or stuff, and I'm around, I'll do what I can."
Gibbs nodded and watched as she left.
She was back the next day, around the same time.
"You're back," he said.
"Looks like this is my unit for the rest of the week," she said easily.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Mac," she said.
"Really?" he asked sceptically.
"Really," she said sarcastically.
"Mac's short for something," he said.
"Yes, it is, and no, I'm not telling you."
"Why not?"
"Because I hate it?"
He grinned. "It can't be that bad."
"Wanna bet? Put it this way; Daddy Dearest wanted a boy so he could pass on a male name. He didn't get a boy."
"He got you instead and you got stuck with a god-awful boy name that starts with Mac," Gibbs guessed.
"You gotcha." She looked at his breakfast tray, which he had barely touched. "You need to eat, buster."
"I hate hospital food. Even the coffee sucks."
A gleam came to her eye. "Make you a deal."
"Listening."
"If you eat your lunch, without complaining, I will bring you a cup of the good stuff," she said. "I know where there's a coffee shop that the Navy officers frequent, and I've been told by a few reliable sources that even the Marines approve of the stuff that's there."
Gibbs lit up at that. "If I eat dinner without complaining, you'll tell me your full name."
She groaned, but couldn't resist smiling when Gibbs grinned at her. "Fine. If I hear it from the nurses, personally, that you didn't complain about dinner, I will tell you my full name."
"Deal."
"What's yours?"
"Leroy Jethro Gibbs," he said, offering her his hand.
"Nice to meet you," she said, accepting his hand.
He later accepted the coffee she gave him, and true to her word, it was very good.
The next day, she handed him a note. "Mackenzington Adian Wilbur," he said, reading the note. He grinned. "You're right; that is bad."
"And I will personally put you back in that bed, in a lot more pain, if you ever tell anyone here what my full name is," she threatened.
"Eh, can't be any worse than what Nurse Ratchet has threatened to do to me," he shot back.
"How about bribery?"
"Bourbon?" he asked hopefully.
"Give me a day," she said.
"Deal."
She was back later that day with a small bakery box.
"What are these?" he asked, looking at the sparkling iced cookies.
"Bourbon-laced sugar cookies with bourbon icing," she said sweetly. He looked at her. "At least this stuff won't interfere with any medication you're taking!" she shot back. He couldn't help but laugh.
Before she left, he had a question for her. "If you know so much about nursing, why aren't you one?"
She shrugged. "I've had several people in my family tell me it would be a waste of money because I wouldn't be able to handle the demands of nursing and family."
"What do you think?" Again she shrugged. "Do you want to be a nurse?"
"I would love to. I'd love to do more than just clean up people's messes," she admitted. "But when your own family doesn't think you're cut out for it..." She shrugged again, smiling sadly. "Always been that way with them. Girls don't really count for much in my family. The whole male thing is kinda predominant there, and according to my dad and my lovely brothers, I'm supposed to be taking care of my family and having babies, not taking care of other families."
"Your family's a bunch of selfish chauvinists," he shot back. "If you want to be a nurse, be a nurse. Don't let them stop you. Hell, I think you'd be a damn fine nurse, but that's up to you."
She left shortly after that, promising to think about what he said.
And shortly after, Ziva David showed up.
And Gibbs retired from NCIS after watching PinPin Pula blow himself and a ship up in an act of selfish terrorism, despite his desperate warnings about the man.
Before Gibbs left Bethesda to get on a flight to Mexico, though, he left Mac a note.
"The only person stopping you is YOU."
2009
Gibbs was frustrated. They had a suspect in a case, but they couldn't get near him because the bastard had lawyered up. All they wanted was his finger prints and a DNA sample, but the suspect, a guy by the name of Leon James, was being a jerk about exercising his rights.
As he moved to storm out of the hospital unit, where his suspect was, he was stopped by a tap on his arm. He turned to glare at the brunette who was now standing beside him, then froze.
"Agent Gibbs?" the nurse asked, starting to smile at him.
His brow furrowed, and then he saw her identification badge. "Mackenzie," he read, "LPN."
"Mac?" he asked, confused.
She nodded happily. "I took your advice. I quit letting my family tell me what to do, got a student loan, and graduated as an LPN last year. Bethesda hired me the day I graduated."
Laughing, he hugged her, a hug she returned. "That's great. Is this your unit?"
"It is, yes. What's going on?"
"One of your patients is a suspect in my case, and the bastard's lawyered up."
"What's his name and what's the case?"
"Leon James. I have a Marine who was hit by a truck while out jogging. Found the truck, but the registered owner says he lent it to his buddies, one of which has a known history of drinking and driving. I need his DNA and I need his prints."
"Why him?"
"Because he's the only one in hospital with a broken collarbone and stitches from shattered glass," Gibbs shot back. "The other two buddies aren't."
"If he's got a known history of DUI's, why isn't he in the system?"
"Because the bastard's never been caught. He's been suspected of a few hit and runs, but they were never proven."
"And your Marine? How is he?"
"Looking at possible career-ending injuries."
She nodded thoughtfully. "You need to go get a cup of coffee. I'll be right back; I have to check on my patient. I think he needs something."
"The coffee here sucks!"
"So does your attitude, but we can't all be perfect angels, now can we?" she shot back.
And with that, she grabbed a binder from behind the desk, a binder that had his suspect's name on it, before bustling off down the hall.
A short time later, Gibbs left the hospital, grinning. Hiding under his jacket, wrapped in a garbage bag, was a used drinking cup and a used thermometer. Abby was going to be very happy, and the best part? James' lawyer wasn't, and it was all perfectly legal.
Three days later, a delivery company dropped off a very nice bouquet of roses for Mac. Tucked in the roses was a business card belonging to NCIS Special Agent Gibbs. On the back was a message.
"I owe you a favour."
Back at NCIS, Director Leon Vance stared at the bill from the florist. "Two dozen roses? And you're sending the bill to NCIS? Why?" he demanded to Gibbs.
Gibbs smirked. "Confidential informant. Helped me nail a suspect who had lawyered up."
"Legally or?"
Gibbs just smirked and walked out of Vance's office. Vance continued to stare at the bill. "Eighty bucks for a dozen long-stem roses. Must be some informant," he muttered.
Present:
A four-star admiral was dead, and his nurse was adamant that it was murder. Gibbs could only hope he got there in time, because if he didn't, then his absolute best lead in a possible murder case could disappear.