Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS.
A/N: This story was written for the 2013 WEE on NFA. I used this prompt for inspiration: Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around. -Leo Buscaglia
~~~NCIS~~~
"Finneus Templeton?"
Tim sighed the kind of sigh that he only reserved for Tony. The one that he pulled out when Tony was in one of those moods. The kind of mood that was grating, yet so completely Tony, that Tim could do nothing else but breathe and go along for the ride. Tony would get it out of his system soon enough.
"Yes, Tony."
"Finneus. Templeton," Tony repeated slowly, licking his lips afterwards as if he were tasting the name.
"He used to go by Finn, actually," Tim recalled, not that it mattered. Tony was on a roll with this one.
"Finnn-neee-us-"
"Tony!" Ziva suddenly shouted from behind them, causing the two agents to spin around precariously on the narrow dock. "Let it go already."
Tony opened his mouth as if to continue, but a well-timed glare from Ziva put a stop to it. Tim only shrugged when Ziva threw a look his way, but was relieved that it lacked the same amount of heat bestowed upon Tony. She somehow managed to squeeze between the two men without knocking them into the water, her boots echoing softly on the wooden planks.
"Who names their kid Finneus Templeton, anyway?" Tony continued once Ziva was out of ear-shot.
Tim stopped himself from rolling his eyes, but he couldn't stop himself from keeping his voice as low as Tony's when he responded. Ziva had been unusually reserved ever since the call about the dead Petty Officer came in, and he didn't particularly feel as though now would be a good time to get on her bad side.
Not that any time was a good time, he thought with a shrug.
"Mr. and Mrs. Templeton, apparently," Tim pointed out.
"Ah, yes. Of course. Parents who clearly didn't mind their kid being picked on in school," Tony added as an afterthought. "Although he's done well for himself, I suppose, owning a 125-foot yacht."
"Yeah, with a dead person on it," Tim reminded him.
"Details," Tony dismissed with a wave of his hand.
They strode side-by-side until they reached the end of the dock where the yacht in question was moored. White, large and extravagant, it did not stand out among the hundreds of other vessels which were housed along the Washington Channel. Four floors, wrap-around windows, and a large sundeck spoke volumes about the kind of life Finn had been living since graduating from MIT. He knew his old classmate had done well for himself, but this? The amount of money he'd had to have spent…
Then again, Tim had owned a Porsche at one point, so who was he to judge?
"Take your Dramamine today?" Tony asked with a smirk, his eyes reflecting the amusement over Tim's discomfort of stepping foot on anything afloat.
"Tony… the boat is attached to the dock. Not out at sea. I'll be fine."
This time Tim did roll his eyes when Tony sidled up next to him, his face barely a few inches away from his own. Why did Tony have zero concept of personal space?
"If you say so, McSeasick," he whispered before quickly bending over, his pouting face hovering somewhere close to Tim's navel. "You be nice to Timmy, okay Timmy's tummy?"
Then, standing, Tony winked at him and boarded the yacht. Tim shook his head before slowly climbing aboard behind him. And yes, he had taken some Dramamine before he left the office, thank you very much, but he was not about to admit that to Tony.
Over the sundeck and through the main deck aft area, Tim followed behind the senior field agent. Deeper they went into the yacht, passing through the galley and crew quarters, before reaching their final destination: Finn's room. The familiar voices of Ducky, Jimmy and Ziva mingled with those of the Metro officers already on the scene, and Tim took a moment to survey the space.
It was clean and organized, decorated sparingly with mementos and other items that might have had some personal importance had they not seemed so generic. Three small ports centered on one wall, while the others were lined with bookshelves, drawers and a full-length mirror. Two doors branched off to what appeared to be a his and her bathroom, and a walk-in closet finished it off. The only thing that gave any indication of who occupied this space was a wooden frame, which Tim noted held Finn's diploma. There were no personal photos. No souvenirs. It was oddly sterile and formal, as if it were a photo from a catalog.
"All done perusing, McGee?"
Tim nearly jumped when Gibbs' voice rumbled from behind him, and he turned so they were face to face. He blushed.
"Yes, Boss."
A moment passed before Gibbs raised his eyebrows expectantly.
"Photos, McGee?"
"Right. Sorry, Boss."
The scene was gruesome, forcing Tim to clench his teeth in hopes of staving off the bile threatening to rise in his throat. He hid behind the protective lens of his camera, even though each photo he took captured the Petty Officer's final moments in graphic detail. Ducky and Jimmy were assessing the body, and Tim maneuvered around them as they cataloged his injuries.
It appears to be blunt force trauma to the head, Ducky was saying. Of course the autopsy will give us a clearer picture of how he met his unfortunate demise.
The Petty Officer lay slumped on his side, body and legs sprawled parallel to the bed. Below the neck, his body was unmarred. But above…
There are skull fragments everywhere, doctor, Jimmy helpfully pointed out.
Tim closed his eyes as nausea suddenly threatened to throw a party on his shoes.
What he had told Tony earlier was basically correct… with the boat being docked, Tim was less likely to experience seasickness. However, the waves lapping against the yacht combined with the horrific images in front of him were causing Tim's stomach to flip. Tim swallowed hard as he continued photographing the scene.
The man's face… or what remained of it… wore a surprised expression, as though getting his skull bashed in had not been on his agenda for today.
Lack of defensive bruising suggests he knew his attacker, Jethro.
Tim leaned down to photograph the victim's hands.
Time of death, Duck?
Being this close to the body, Tim could smell the blood, and his stomach did another summersault. Standing too quickly, he felt his blood rush away from his head. He threw a hand out against the wall for support.
I'd say between four and six hours ago.
Tim hated that he was having such a bad reaction. He tried to tell himself that he'd seen worse crime scenes than this, but conjuring up images of past victims did nothing to help his sudden barf or flight reflex.
McGee…
Maybe it was because it was Finn's boat? Not that he and Finneus had been that great of friends at MIT, of course. But he wasn't too keen on having another person he was connected to be potentially tied to a crime…
"McGee!"
Tim snapped his eyes open to see everyone in the room staring at him. "Yes Boss?"
"Go check on Ziva," he said with an ounce more understanding than irritation.
Thank goodness for small mercies. Tim didn't need to be told twice; after giving Gibbs a grateful smile, he high-tailed it out of the room in search of Ziva, and hopefully some fresh air along with her.
He found her alone on the sundeck, and Tim took several calming breaths before approaching her. He watched as she concentrated on her task, scanning the deck with a keen eye. He marveled at how gracefully she moved, somehow seemingly right at home, both among the million-dollar yachts and the bloody carnage that was below.
That was the beauty about Ziva, he supposed. Sophisticated and deadly.
Yet today, she was tense. Tim could see her rigid posture, the slight frown to her lips, the number of times she checked her watch. There was something… preoccupied about how she was going on with her work today. Tim followed her gaze as she stared out at the open water, but there was nothing but the waves and water and a few white dots of sail boats on the horizon. Ziva didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular.
"Ziva?"
She didn't respond, nor did her gaze falter.
Tim frowned. Ziva was always aware of her surroundings; Tim had never seen her distracted like this. He took a few tentative steps forward, reaching out and putting a hand on her arm.
"Ziva?"
She jumped, pulling her arm away quickly and taking an instinctive step back.
"What, McGee?"
His frown deepened at her tone. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, I am fine," she said evenly, but Tim could see the reigned in emotions and thoughts turning behind her calm front.
"You seem distracted." When Ziva didn't answer, Tim's heart clenched. "Oh man, Ziva… you don't know the victim, do you?"
"What?" She looked at him, confused. Then, realizing what Tim was asking, she smiled, though it seemed forced. "Oh no, McGee. No, I do not even know the victim's name."
"But I do!" Out of nowhere, Tony's hand whacked McGee on the back, causing him to nearly drop the camera he'd forgotten he'd been holding. "Got it right here in my handy dandy notebook."
"Well?" Ziva asked. "What is it?"
"We'll get to that in a minute," Tony said. "McGoo is right. You've got a bug up your butt about something. Do tell."
Ziva scowled. "I do not even want to know what that means, Tony. But if you must know, I had plans for this evening with some friends, and I am worried that this case will prevent me from going."
"Friends, huh? From Israel?"
"Believe it or not, Tony, I do have friends in the United States," she scowled before continuing. "My friend, Lital, is taking the train from New York. Her twin sister and a few of her friends flew in from out of town last week, and we are all meeting for dinner this evening."
The notepad Tony was fiddling with suddenly stilled. "I'm sorry, did you say twin sister?"
"Yes, they are twins," she confirmed. "But do not get any ideas, Tony. Lital is happily married, and her sister, Mali, will be also very soon. She is here vacationing before her wedding day."
"Oh, I see." Tony grinned and waggled his eyebrows, mock-seductively. "Bachelorette party?"
"It is not a bachelorette party. Jewish tradition encourages couples to limit their time together during their engagement." She paused to give Tony a sultry look. "This, of course, serves to… amplify the wedding experience."
"Oh yeah?" Tony's grin grew even wider.
Ziva smiled the first genuine smile Tim had seen all day before returning her focus back to the task at hand. Leave it to Tony to bring Ziva out of her shell…
"So," Tim prompted. "The victim's name?"
"Not now, McGee. Less about me, and more about Ziva's twin friends."
"Tony!"
"Fine!" Tony pouted, flipping open his notebook with a flourish. "Petty Officer, third class, Ernest Barker. Twenty six. Born and raised in Mobile, Alabama," he finished with a thick, southern drawl.
"Oh God… Ernie?"
The shaken voice caused the agents to turn, noticing for the first time that they were not alone. Tall, with a slender build and light brown hair bleached by too much time in the sun, it took Tim a moment to recognize the man as Finneus Templeton.
"Finn?"
The man blinked slowly a few times, his gaze settling on Tim as a wave of recognition washed over his face.
"Timothy McGee!" he exclaimed, only somewhat subdued, the shock of death momentarily forgotten. He strolled forward to shake Tim's hand. "I don't believe it. It's been ages. Last I heard, you were at Johns Hopkins."
Tim shifted the camera he was holding to shake Finn's hand. "Yeah. I'm with NCIS now. We're investigating Officer Barker's death."
Finn raked a shaking hand through his hair at the reminder. "Ernie… I can't believe it. When Metro called me… I just… how did he die?"
"That has yet to be determined by our medical examiner," Tony said, inserting himself into the conversation.
"Right. Of course. This is just… such a shock."
"How did you know Barker?" Ziva asked from behind them, and Finn's eyes lit up at the sight of her.
"Oh, he was a consultant for my company, RadSim Technologies," Finn took a few business cards out of his pocket, handing one first to Ziva, then to Tony and Tim. "I develop integrated bridge and navigation systems for mega yachts."
"And Mr. Barker did what, exactly?"
"Radar, mostly," Finn answered, tearing his eyes away from Ziva to look at Tony. "Helping with the integration of the AIS and ECDIS, as well as the SENC-Data controls."
"Uh, right," Tony nodded, not bothering to take notes.
"He's good… uh, was good. He had so much potential…"
"When was the last time you saw Barker?"
Finn looked back at Ziva. "This morning. He stopped by the office."
"Was he upset or did anything seem out of the ordinary?" Tim asked.
Finn shook his head. "No, I don't think so. We didn't really talk long. Just some minor details on his latest project. I had some meetings to get to, and when I was done, he was already gone."
"Where were you between the hours of 2 and 4pm today?"
Finn looked surprised by the question, but only for a moment before a thin, poised smile was back on his face.
"Am I a suspect, Agent…?"
Ziva remained silent, her sour mood apparently returned and unabated by Finn's attempts at flirtation.
"David, Agent David," Tony answered for her. "And I'm Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo."
"And I'm Gibbs. You Templeton?"
Tim somehow managed not to jump this time as Gibbs, once again, appeared out of nowhere. Finn, however, was startled and some of his cool façade fell away when face to face with the gruffness that was Gibbs.
"Why don't you answer the question?" Gibbs prompted after Finn's nod of affirmation.
"I, uh, was out looking at the fleet we currently have docked," Finn began. "We have yachts moored here, as well as James Creek and the Gangplank. I've done some upgrades recently, and I wanted to check on their installation."
Gibbs' eyes narrowed, and Tim knew that look. The one that he used when sizing up someone, somehow determining their trustworthiness by just a glare. Tim wasn't sure what Gibbs thought during this process of his, but he was sure his brain was somehow communicating with that infamous gut, somehow calculating Finn's honesty.
Finally, Gibbs nodded to Ziva. "Take him down to Ducky. Confirm the ID."
Ziva did not look pleased at the idea of having to spend more time with Finn, but she silently led the way. Before they left the fading sunlight of the deck, Finn turned to address McGee one final time.
"We should have dinner tonight, Tim. Catch up. Are you free?"
Tim looked uneasily from Finn, to Gibbs, then back to Finn again. "Uh, I'm not…"
"You have my card," he said with a smile. "Give me a call."
Tim didn't get a chance to respond before Finn turned around and followed Ziva's retreating form. Tony came up beside Tim, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Wow. That's Finneus Templeton?"
"Yup," Tim said stoically.
"He's not what I pictured at all."
"I know."
"Was he like that at MIT?"
Tim made a non-committal grunt as he shrugged his shoulders. He and Finn had been enrolled in several of the same courses, but had minimal contact outside of the classroom and the occasional study group. He had been somewhat popular with the girls (and rumor had it with the guys, as well), but Tim didn't recall him having this much confidence before.
Though he appeared to be genuinely shaken by the death of his employee, he had shrugged it off easily enough. And now, as Tim watched him follow Ziva into the yacht, Tim found he agreed with Tony. Finn wasn't as Tim pictured him either.
Gibbs walked over to where Tim and Tony were standing, and pierced him with that look. Great…
"Why don't you go to dinner with him tonight?" It was an order disguised as a suggestion.
"Boss?"
"Go out with him tonight," Gibbs repeated.
"Do you want me to question him about the case? See if he's lying about anything?"
"Go out. Have a few drinks. Catch up on old times." This time it was an order not disguised as anything. "Come back into the office tomorrow morning."
"Uh… okay. But Boss, Ziva had plans for tonight. Maybe she…"
Gibbs cut off Tim with a smile. "Don't worry, Tim. Ziva will make her plans for tonight. Tony and I can handle the case for now."
As Tim climbed down from the yacht and headed toward his car, Tony's grumbling about missing any of his potential evening plans far behind him, he realized that Gibbs hadn't really answered his question. It was going to be an interesting evening.
~~~NCIS~~~
"What about you, Ziva? When are you going to find a man and settle down?"
Ziva nearly choked on her drink.
The evening had gone really well so far. She was thrilled that Gibbs had given her the evening away from the case so she was able to meet up with her friends. It had been far too long since she had seen Lital, and even longer since she'd visited with Mali. The sisters were lively and carefree, sharing stories and long-winded anecdotes from their childhood. Lital, along with Mali's other friends who had come along for the trip, gave marital advice ranging from very serious to hilarious.
The conversation had stayed mercifully away from Ziva's solitary life up until this point. She was painfully aware that she was the only one at the table tonight who was not involved in a serious relationship. She figured it would come up eventually. It usually did when she was around her married friends.
She looked around from one expectant face to another. Clearly, they all felt that her life was not complete without a husband to go home to and a child to care for. She had a career she was proud of. Friends that she would die for. A place to finally call home after too many years of floating around like an empty, plastic bag. Why could they not accept that she was happy the way she was?
She forced a smile on her face and tried to think of an answer that would satisfy her friends.
Nothing immediately came to mind.
"I am quite happy with my life as it is," she said carefully.
"But you need a man, Ziva! Someone to make you even happier… more fulfilled!" Mali said with a smile. "I was also very happy in life, but then I met Berel. And now I cannot imagine my life without him."
"He completes her," Lital said with a smirk, and Ziva half-heartedly joined in the laughter before succumbing to the need to step away from the conversation altogether.
Pushing her way to the bar, Ziva leaned forward, practically having to shout at the bartender to get his attention. She usually wasn't a heavy drinker, but if she was going to have to put up with more interrogations on when she was getting married and having babies, she was going to need to be sufficiently tipsy first.
"Ziva?"
She was yanked away from her melancholy thoughts and she spun around to see McGee seated at the bar, leaning around two beefy gentlemen that sat between them.
"McGee? What are you doing here?"
"Meeting Finneus. Well, I was, but he called and canceled just a few minutes ago, and..." Ziva could hardly hear him over the din of the bar, but she smiled as McGee rambled on anyway.
"…figured I could have a drink before heading home," he finished with a shrug of a shoulder. "Are you here with your friends?"
"Yes, they are… oh, McGee, hold on a moment."
Ziva grabbed her drink order and wove her way around the large men to get closer to McGee. It was no less noisy over at this end of the bar, but at least she wouldn't have to shout.
"This is better," she commented with a smile. "Yes, my friends are here. But what of your friend? Is everything all right?"
McGee shrugged. "Who knows. He isn't really my friend. Gibbs asked me to meet with him tonight, so I'm sure his cancelling will only make him look guilty in everyone's eyes. That's just what I need," he said with a sigh, slightly slouching in his seat. "Another friend involved in something illegal."
"And what of you, McGee? Do you believe he is involved?"
McGee shrugged again, taking a long drink before answering.
"He's involved," he said quietly. "Even if he didn't kill Petty Officer Barker, it's his company. His yacht. He's involved whether he avoids me or not." He took another drink before he straightened. "I'm sorry, this isn't really that important. I'm keeping you away from your friends."
Ziva looked back at the table where the ladies were sharing a laugh. She frowned a moment, realizing that she was not very eager to rejoin them.
McGee caught her look and put a hand on her arm. "Hey, is everything okay?"
Ziva pulled her arm away quickly, feeling a small pang upon realizing that this was the second time today she had rejected his simple way of comforting her. She smiled apologetically.
"Yes, McGee, of course. You will be alright alone?"
McGee smiled. "I'm fine, Ziva. I'll be heading home after my drink."
She nodded, they exchanged farewells, and all-too-soon she found herself back at the table with her friends.
"Who was that, Ziva?"
"What?"
"That man up there you were talking to," Lital clarified, casually pointing at the back of McGee.
"That is McGee… uh, Tim. We work together."
"Maybe I should go talk to him," she said with a wink. "Ask him to join us."
Ziva was unsure if she could handle her friends doting upon McGee, grilling him for answers about who-knows-what, impressing upon him their insistence of how Ziva should get married and have children and oh, by the way Tim, do you want to get married and have kids?
"No," Ziva said with a shake of her head. She was certain she could not deal with that conversation right now.
"He told me he was heading home after his drink," Ziva responded firmly, and silently prayed that Tim would hurry up and finish his drink before her friends took matters into their own hands and convinced him to stay. Remarkably, Tim stood in that moment and after flopping a few bills down on the bar, turned to leave.
His eyes caught hers and he smiled warmly before he turned away and disappeared into the heavy crowd.
Lital elbowed Ziva lightly. "He's cute."
Ziva said nothing, and soon enough, the conversation turned away from Tim, and back to Mali's upcoming nuptials. And while Ziva was grateful for the reprieve from being the center of attention, she felt her thoughts constantly going back to those questions, and what she imagined McGee's answers to be. She was well aware of his desire to find someone special in his life… and his seemingly never-ending string of bad relationships. Yet he seemed to maintain a positive attitude about it… insisting that there was someone out there for him. She could only imagine that once he found that special woman, they would settle down and have children.
As she absently picked at the wet bar napkin nestled under her drink, she tried to imagine little McGees running around the bullpen. They all had his startling green eyes, of course. She smiled when she imagined McGee setting a little girl on his lap, letting her play with his keyboard, her dark black hair up in pigtails the way her mother used to do her own hair…
The rest of the team would spoil her rotten, keeping her more than entertained until her mother arrived. McGee would smile in the same warm way he'd smiled at Ziva tonight, when she would step off the elevator to meet him for lunch or bring him home after a long day. The perfect family…
It was what McGee deserved…
…and what Ziva would never have, she realized with a pang of sadness.
Ziva's eyes refocused on her surroundings. Stealing a quick glance around the table to make sure no one had somehow read her mind and was aware of this personal revelation, Ziva was happy to see that the conversation continued to flow around her, uninterrupted.
Yes, she thought with a sigh, taking another long drink. Happy…